Red
It’s the smell of blood dragging you from the darkness. Up, up, up towards consciousness. Away from instinct and towards reason.
Blood, sickly sweet, stinking in your nose, thick on your tongue; it cakes beneath your nails, sticky between your fingers, and over everything. The hunger never fades, but this, the carnage, helps.
Screams echo in their memories and blend into a discordant song. And it should horrify you, shouldn’t it? The bodies? The stench? It did once. You know it did. There used to be another voice, a conscience maybe, but it’s gone.
Now, there’s only red.
Red, red, red. Passion and blood, Orin.
The Red Lady flits between her kills, pressing the flat of her blade against her hip. It leaves a swathe of blood in its wake, no better or worse than the rest of the carnage painted across her flesh. Orin is messy, a somehow inarticulate way of describing her ‘work.’ Her knives are viciously sharp, you know this better than most, but you’d never guess it. Sometimes, she hacks into the flesh, shattering bone and bruising. In her lighter moments, nearly coy, she takes her time. Her hands are steady; she flays, reveling in the screams and the wash of blood. It soothes her. And you.
She traces your cheek with the knife, leaving a cool sting in its wake. Mischief (madness) dances behind her eyes. Something screams inside you, that primal voice, that other. Father or the Slayer…it wants her but doesn’t know how. Wants to kill, take, own, unify.
And it’s that last urge, stronger than all the others, that chokes you. You want to crawl inside her skin. Father says you are one, twinned, incomplete. It hurts. It hungers.
“My blood-kin,” she coos the words, breath warm against your cheek. “My only.” She laughs as she says it. Pleased by your pain. Orin presses her lips to your cheek and licks her way to the corner of your mouth. Not quite a kiss, tongue tracing along the cut she’s made. Evaluating her work, tasting you. Torn between the pleasure of the hunt and wanting to be whole again. It’s as near to restraint as she comes.
You feel the darkness stretching out again, soul-deep, and hungry. It’s so much worse when she’s close. Like your skin is tight, something else is clawing its way out, ready to burst from your ribcage. You are halves of one awful, bloody, whole.
Some nights you hunt, a twinned plague roaming the city outskirts.
Some nights you turn on one another, tearing through flesh and bone.
And perhaps one night this will end. It must end. Father demands it.
But not now. Not yet. For now, there’s only red.
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Sorry to announce this bg3 fandom but Orin the Red the chosen of Bhaal is not above incest (Durge x Orin tbh I won't even call this ship a real incest, they are only related by faith to Bhaal)
She has no moral, worshiper of Bhaal has no morals. The dark urge themselves is canonically into necrophilia, Larian put a lot of effort into this psychopathic woman and some people try to water down her nastiness... Show some respect man
People like this doesn't actually like a villain, they only like villain aesthetic
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Chapters: 1/2
Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: The Dark Urge/Orin the Red (Baldur's Gate)
Characters: The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Orin the Red (Baldur's Gate), Bhaal (Dungeons & Dragons)
Additional Tags: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Blood and Gore, Smut, Shapeshifting, Ritual Public Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Wing Kink
Summary:
It is a sin for Orin even to consider turning down the opportunity to become one with Father. To deny the chance to run her hands along flesh carved from the very will of Murder Himself?
What more can she ask for? What more could she even want?
To rake her nails across that pallid throat. Guzzle down the river of crimson until she's fullfullfull. Stretch and unhinge her jaw wide—so wide and massive.
Devour her whole.
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I am thinking abt durgetash + Orin woundfucking I think gort would be in the middle tbh but my durge is also such a fucking masochist and I want to draw his lungs and viscera rn so I might draw him torn open for them. On display in the most violent and carnal way, how much of the red is blood and how much is healing potions poured into the heart to keep it beating. How quickly does your body turn cold when there are hands keeping it warm.
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With his sweetened breath, and his tongue so mean
He's the angel of small death and the codeine scene
With his black-cursed blood, his arms hard and lean
He's the angel of small death and the codeine scene
@architaciturn
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happy birthday!!! i hope your day is lovely and that you get spoiled! 🐟
i definitely have been so far bc i have the most amazing fiancee (@monstraduplicia gotta promote him ofc) and mother in law in the world!! 🥰💕 and thank you so so much!! 🥰🥰💕💕💕
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i think my main brainworms blorbo character in bg3 isnt even any of the companions or npcs its just durge. like the default dragonborn durge and my own custom durges who i have designed and developed a headcanon/backstory/personality for, or just the durge that is all of them, all the durges that can be or could have ever been. their storyline in general you know. their dynamics with all the characters. but also specifically durge/gortash is my current comfort ship because why the fuck not. but i also spend my nights reading durge/astarion fanfic as a bedtime story and am writing my own too and i think i need to go write some lae'zel/durge also bc that's the playthrough im doing right now and im obsessed with everything about them and why the fuck is there so little content they're so powerful.
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We are going down an irreversible path to degeneracy but lets do it. BHAALCEST BHAALCEST. Do you think papa Bhaal approves? - Shadowheart
Anon. Bhaalcest has existed since baldur's gate one
Imoen romance was modded out of pure thirst for bhaal kids to commune with each other.
Papa bhaal not only approves, but papa bhaal is a proud papa!! He has like a million kids every 100 years, makes them kill/fuck/betray each other and then the couple left standing are the bhaal lottery winners.
Also, it's a god. They don't actually share blood or anything with the living. Comparing Bhaalcest to something like the sharess's caress incest twins would actually be laughable. At least the drow twins had the balls to be related, while the bhaalspawns only have their divinity link to a murderous god and no blood relations.
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