#white vision rp

[introspectral]

Viv’s creation was accidental. When Wanda had created the Hex, she’d created Viv along with it, but Viv’s synthezoid form was a separate entity from the Hex. Her straight green hair was nicely complimented by her green sweater.

“It is just me, father,” she said simply. She’d been following him for the past few days, but she’d done well in her efforts of going unnoticed. “Miss Maximoff suggested I attempt to reconnect with you in order to preserve our family history.”

__________

Father? Vision’s head canted. Wanda Maximoff was someone known to him. He’d met her directly in Westview, and the majority of memories stored in his data banks involved her in some way. But the person before him, another synthezoid, no less, was not someone he immediately recognized. There was something familiar about her, though, and as he began to do a quick scan of his memory banks, he found those he sought.

“Vivian,” he finally recalled with a little nod. “I am receptive to interaction, however, I am not yet certain if the memories I possess are my own, or if they belong to a past life I am no longer able to continue. If you are understanding of that, we can proceed,” he said. “How did you locate me?” The question was less born of suspicion and more out of confusion, as he’d thought he’d disabled all of his trackers before leaving Westview. Was there another way to follow him of which he was unaware?

#white vision rp

[tangleweave]

Star Screams [RP]

[ @paragonrising ]

"Alert. Alert. This is the Kree Accuser Warship Venoran, transmitting a priority advisory. Our vessel has been attacked, invaded, and crippled by a cybernetic entity of unidentified composition and origin. Self-destruct measures have been disabled by the entity. Attempts to subdue the entity with conventional weaponry have proven unsuccessful. Advise any and all civilian vessels within a one light-year radius to remain clear. Kree Authority vessels, establish communications blackout with Venoran and relay priority signal to Supreme Intelligence for further instruction.

"Alert. Alert. This is…"

~*~*~*~

The Venoran had been home to five elite units, every member of them privy to their own preference of weaponry and tactics. But what good was it to be when their quarry was, by all accounts, intangible? Every blade, every slug, every blast of energy seemed to pass through the pale biped harmlessly, and did not seem to interdict it in the slightest.

It might as well have been a ghost. Perhaps it was a vengeful revenant that had attached to the hull following some prior culling, and fashioned a body for itself out of the Venoran's parts and pieces. But that would not explain its eye-straining sheen, brilliant white with gleaming neon blue in its eyes and its forehead. And the quantities of the Venoran were known elements. This being was something else entirely, that it could seem to phase out of all tangible existence with merely a thought.

Arcs of energy burst from the sapphire core in its head, lancing into Kree elites with precision to make even the likes of the legendary Minn-Erva jealous. Some were concussive, tossing them back against bulkheads and knocking them unconscious on impact. Others were not quite so forgiving, and burned holes through limbs and joints.

The entity did not stop until it had invaded the bridge, and confronted the Accuser standing defiant with his hammer in both hands.

Those hands remained attached to the hammer longer than to the Accuser.

The entity had brought the hammer down upon the nearest control panel, shattering the holographic prismatic displays and revealing the circuitry beneath. It was the circuitry that the being touched with its open hand… and moments later, the breathable air in the vessel was being evacuated into the bleak dark of space beyond.

Most of the Kree made it to escape pods and shuttles without further incident. And it was only after the atmosphere had been nullified for a full hour's time that it repressurized the vessel's interior and opened its eyes, at last, to behold the ship it had single-handedly overtaken.

It turned around, and became abruptly aware that it was not alone on the ship as it had imagined.

It was immediately intrigued. An emotional borne out by the way it tilted its head askance.

And spoke into the newly restored atmosphere.

"Captain Carol Danvers."

#rp starter #marvel rp #paragonrising #carol danvers #muse: white vision #post-endgame

[andys-muses]

//open to Billy Kaplan - Wanda Maximoff//

"Billy, I don't care that he's a man!" Wanda exclaimed, "I'm simply telling you from experience that dating a non-human isn't something you should take lightly, especially when he's your first-ever boyfriend! Your father and I are doing wonderful now, yes, but before that he became white!"

#billy not knowing about white vision: you racist towards white people ma? #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #mcu rp #marvel rp #open rp #open starter #andysmuses

[askthechaoticwitch]

What about the white vision? Any news?

"He left the day I released Westview, and since then I haven't seen him. I'm weary of the idea of looking for him due to the fact that despite containing all memories of my Vision, White Vision only sees them as data. He does not love me, he has no feelings at all. Quite the ship of Theseus, isn't it? Looking at somebody you once loved and them knowing full well who you are, but nothing in them awakens, yet your heart instinctively seeks theirs."

#sike I'm gonna cry #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff rp #scarlet witch #scarlet witch rp #vision #white vision #wandavision #marvel roleplay #askthechaoticwitch

[shiftingmuse]

Open Roleplay: {m, f, or nb} {platonic or romantic}  

“Everything that has occurred since my reawakening does not matter to my present state. I only wish to understand my former life and it’s death.” 

#the vision #white vision #open rp #open roleplay #synthezoid #synthetic human #sci-fi rp #Marvel RP #mcu roleplay

[sage-the-exorcist]

(RP with @works-of-magic )

It’s not often Sage gets a call from multiple people from the same location. If he did, well, whatever was inhabiting the grand building in front of him had to be dangerous.

His hand reaches down to land in soft white fur, caressing Atelier’s head gently. The shiny Absol barks gently under his touch, looking up at him with shining emerald eyes almost glossy under the moonlight, as if reassuring. Sage nods, hand curling tighter around his staff.

“Okay,” he whispers to himself, both a quiet prayer and a word of confidence. He had no clue what he will find, but if it’s dangerous…

The tattoos on his collarbone and shoulders begin to itch, but he shrugs it off as he pushes open the door, staff at the ready. With a deep breath, he enters, pushing open the door.

Darkness fills his vision, and, as Atelier accompanies him inside, he reaches for a talisman in his other hand. He has no idea what to expect, and, even worse, no clue about what will come.

Light blooms from his lanky frame as he brushes a piece of his funky-ass colored hair from his face-strands of blue and pink over dark green make him so noticeable it’s hard not to see him even without the light-which is currently coming from the marks along his shoulders, emanating a violet shade from his body.

“Hello?” he calls, tapping his staff against the floor. “Anyone home?”

He’s sure that’ll get whatever’s in here moving. He adjusts the leather jacket tied around his waist, his talisman beginning to glow too along with the tattoos at his shoulders, glowing through the lining of his tank top. This feels weird-even moreso than usual, and Sage is saying that as an expert of all things ghostly and weird.

#pokemon #pokemon rp #pokemon irl #pokemon oc #pokeblogging #pokeirl #rotumblr #pkmn irl #(ooc: I hope this is to your liking)

[ch1meraa]

A very heart-wrenching scene from an rp with a friend. Vic is being shown the footage of the aftermath of him being given an experimental drug by GHOST. Here’s the scene that inspired the drawing;

______

The reality of the situation hit Vic like cold water as his vision cleared, the ringing in his head died down, voices came into focus, as did everything else - including the blue-white light of the room he was in. Naturally, he looked down and began to struggle against his bonds, even despite that he had no strength left at all, his movements were violent enough that he broke one of the bonds holding him and further damaged one of his arms in the process.

“**Secure him, for fuck’s sake.**”” Lena spat at one of the masked scientists, who were clearly unfamiliar with the Cyborg. The next thing Vic felt was the strangest sensation he’d ever experienced in his life. With the push of a button, the cables in his head delivered targeted electrical signals into specific regions of his brain, completely paralysing his body from the neck down.

He blinked in shock, not even able to communicate the fear he was feeling as he could not move an inch. Victor was no coward though. He had experienced worse and he was not going to be broken easily. He regained his composure and wordlessly stared ahead as he heard them approach.

“…*’You’re looking well’*, Victor~” Lena mocked, reminding him of why she hated him so, as well as being as potently sarcastic as possible all in the space of one sentence. Vic looked deathly.

Silas didn’t seem to notice, he was too busy making note of what a shame it was going to be to *waste* such a weapon… He hardly noticed that Vic was even human at all.

“Such a feat of engineering and biomechanics~ I am pleased to meet you at last, Victor. Allow me to introduce myself briefly, I am Silas. See me and mine as ah, the clean-up crew. Don’t be alarmed, my men are well trained but nobody here is going to harm you.. That is, unless you *make* them want to harm you..”

Vic’s eyes narrowed under his brow, his jaw set and clenched as he simply stared ahead, allowing his eyes to close for a moment of intense frustration before finally turning his face toward the man who called himself Silas. He noticed Lena standing there and scoffed, allowing himself to grin as he laid his head back.

“…What’ll it be this time, Lena? What, pray tell, the fuck….” Vic lamented, almost deliriously with his voice cracking as he grinned at his pathetic, exhaustive situation.

He soon looked toward Silas as Lena circled around the bed, obviously taking her time for the sheer *fun* of seeing Victor so helpless.

“Silas, is it? Well Si, why don’t you hop up on my lap and *swivel*~ Then, you and your …heh, ‘boys’ here can show me how good of a ‘clean up crew’ you *really* are. Cunt.” Vic seethed out, the venom in his voice as cold as ice and sharper than frostbite. He coldly spat at Silas’s feet, getting him on his ever-so-shiny boots. He was fully beyond giving a fuck anymore at this point and went back to chuckling to himself.

Silas looked down at his boots, not expecting such spirit, but Lena was furious, as ever. If only she could find a way to *silence* that mouth of his…

She stormed over, closing the gap between herself and the scientist, grabbed him under his jaw and then back-handed him across the face as hard as she could.

“Now I have your attention, you *might* wanna shut the fuck up, because I’ve got a *cute* little video, you might wanna see.” Lena whispered to him, as she then turned her attention to the screen. She lifted the remote, it started playing ….the same scream he’d been hearing in his nightmares for days, the same fragments of the fight with Sky he’d also re-lived, were now playing before him in what looked like 4K…. His face changed in an instant as the sound made him jump, the piercing cries and now, *the footage* of what he did as well. Before Vic could even begin to process what he was seeing, his eyes were blinking tears that ran down his face as he watched and listened in abject terror.

____

Vic and Lena (C) me

Sky (C) Turtwap

#transformers #illustration #digital art #horrortron #art #tfe mandroid #transformers earthspark #sketch #my art #au mandroid #transformers rp #transformers earthspark au #transformers plagued horrorverse stuff #spooky cyborg scientist #my oc shit #transformers oc #oc artist #very sad #interrogation #manipulation #torture #horror art #my art stuff #rp is seriously informing my ideas nnnghhh #scary art #punk cyborg dude #transformers crossover rp #transformers tfp Silas #transformers tfp

[davi-doo]

Durgetash - RP snippet #1

Pairing: M/M, The Dark Urge (default Dragonborn) x Enver Gortash

Rating: Mature

Summary: At one point in their relationship, the Bhaalspawn's father given urge was revealed to Gortash.

Author's note: This writing came from a rp I shared with my friend. Consequently, it has no continuous narrative, as we took turn to write each character in our style. Durge's parts were written by me, and Gortash's by @mcfallen-god.

The Dark Urge:

As warm blood soaked his hand, and the body on his lap grows cold by the second, Durge watches as the human quakes, choking on his last breath. The Bhaalspawn hears himself whispers his father name, sowing the fear for the Lord of Murder in his victim's fading consciousness. Binding his soul to Bhaal's realm.

The kill must bring instant gratification to his dark urge, as it hums in his father's content silence. But sometimes is wrong. He heard the clang as his holy blade hit the cold ground, as he must have dropped it. And through his blurry vision, he recognized the face of the one in his arms.

Enver Gortash. His souless dark eyes was still staring at him in utter horror.

***

The dragonborn wakes up in cold sweat. His blood red eyes dash across the room in a familiar panic, as he tries to take in as much of his surrounds as quickly as possible.

This is not...his father's temple, with its high celling, ever echoing scream of the tortured souls. It's a regular bedroom, with creamy wall and embroidered curtains. The pale blue light from the large window tells him they still have a few hours before sunrise.

The ordinary only managed to calm his anxiety for so long. Turning aside and throwing away the cover, the Bhaalspawn discovered his bedmate buried beneath the heavy blanket. Enver Gortash. His warm skin radiates heat, snoring softly in his blissful slumber. Holding down an emotional choke, Durge shoots up from the bed and rushes to find his belongings. He must leave and seek penance. Lest their union, no, their grand design ends in the Banite's blood.

Enver Gortash:

He is delightful whenever he is lucky enough to fill his bed with the presence of his one and only.

To feel his sleep watched over like this, it allows the grand Lord of Baldur's Gate to abandon himself to the deepest and most restful slumber.

However, Enver Gortash remains a man with a light sleep, and the little changes of weight on the bed, of warmth under the blankets or from the slightest, unnatural sound in his surroundings, he would wake up.

Thus, as Durge sits up and starts to move around the room, may he be as silent as Death itself, Gortash just feels it. Growling, twitching, he moves to the side where the dragonborn was laying when they fell asleep. As he has the confirmation he is now alone between the expensive sheets, he sits up and looks with fully awake eyes at the pale silhouette.

The white scales glowing mystically under the gaze of the moon. If he was less concerned by the reason making the other man move so fast, so quietly, and so in the middle of the night… Gortash would have just admired him for a bit longer.

"What are you doing? Didn't we pass the 'leave before you wake up' stage?" He asks, teasy, his voice husky with sleep and his hair kind of messed up.

As he feels how serious the situation was - he never saw this expression on the Bhaalspawn's features - Goratsh stands up with a frown.

"Durge.. what is it? What happened?"

The Dark Urge:

The dragonborn only stops on his track for a second when he heard his lover's voice. Still determined to ignore him, Durge quickly went back to throwing on his coat. But as the same voice called his name, his sense of urgency rapidly turns into anger.

How could this ever cunning Banite allow himself to be so careless? How could he allow things between them escalated into this tangled mess? How could Durge let his touch be the rewards for defying his father's principles?

"Enver! Do you want to die?! Without accomplishing anything?!" The dragonborn lashed out "If you don't, we must end whatever this is. Right now!"

The Bhaalspawn visibly trembles with effort and labored breath after saying his bit. But despite his forceful words, he can't find the heart to hold the other's eyes. So he crooked his head and turned away, hoping Gortash will take offend with his notoriously terrible temper.

Enver Gortash:

Something is definitely off and this all looks bad.

With a firm, but still calm and careful move, the human stands and steps until he can put a hand and grabs on the other's arm.

"Hey. What happened." He asks again, less a question than a command now. "Is that … Your god?"

Gortash is far from being stupid. He knows their respective gods may appear in their dreams or whisper their commands through the night. He is also far from being naive enough and thinks that: one, Bhaal is unaware of his 'son's' situation, and two, the god is most certainly disapproving it.

No, what Gortash doesn't understand is that sudden anger, that needs to flee. Durge is not the type to flee. There is nothing that would make him run away…

A mission? He would have just said so.

Why acting like he wants to have Gortash mad?

The human mind goes full speed from one thought to another, trying to figure out.

If Bhaal had ordered to kill Gortash… Durge would have said it. He would not have run like this…

It is something bigger, scarier.

"…. Talk to me." Gortash frowns, with seriousness.

The Dark Urge:

Durge closes his eyes and grits his teeth. The voice in his head is intimidatingly silent. He can only imagine his father's watching eyes, waiting for him to define his faith.

So the Banite wants to talk. Durge let out an annoyed snicker. With the facade of pragmatism, he knows how the kind of them are always hunger for new knowledge. They will steal, bribe and kill for a piece of useful information; they must exploit all the resources to establish their control. All to gain power over their subject. Even Durge knows their alliance and partnership is no exception for The Black Hand's doctrines.

Brushing of those fingers off his arm, the dragonborn turns back and face those seeking eyes at last. Should he choose to gain the Banite knowledge of his innate condition, he must be ready to slay him to the change of the wind. But perhaps, that will be the end of his agony.

"I am my father's flesh. His bloody hand carved me from his carcass. My body is his to act on. I can't die unless it's his will." the dragonborn speaks with hushed voice but no less solemnly, looking down at the smaller human with a clear intention to intimidate.

"What do you think drives us killer's blade? Hatred? Anger? Pleasure? " He steps closer with each stabbing words, "No, it's will from the Murder Lord himself. We praise it, honor it. But we have no say over it...Not without facing His wrath anyways."

Somewhere in his grim expression, or the tension across his towering frame, Gortash can sense a faint stroke of remorse. But it passes as quickly as a breath, and the Bhaalspawn speaks again before he can protest:

"If my father wants you dead." The dragonborn put his claw over the human's beating heart, "There's no stopping me from killing you. Not my reason, nor your binding oath."

Enver Gortash:

He doesn't resist and lets go of the arm, stepping a step backward to let the dragonborn turn and look at him.

He lets him speak with the greatest and most serious interest.

Though, his expression soon shows how he starts to understand what it is all about.

His frown goes deeper and something in his body just goes steadier.

"…" He feels he has no turn to speak as Durge stressed his lineage, but it feels itchy to the human.

However, he frowns deeper, giving to his eyes - already dark in the dim light - the impression of a deep, gleaming black color.

He won't step back. He won't back off in front of Bhaal - because yes, he considers the one talking is more the god than the spawn. Though, his mind still gets ready to jump and grabs the dagger he keeps by his bedside table. Just in case.

Though, the proximity with that body he knows already way too well feels too familiar and that hand on bis chest, supposedly a thread, it feels more like a plea, an apology, and a confession.

Gortash looks with a tilted head into those eyes and beyond, then he sighs. Holding the dragonborn's hand over his chest, he speaks as much to the Bhaalspawn as to the god himself.

"I can figure out your god might feel threatened by an ally as I am, but standing under the command of another patron. However.." He stares straight through Durge now. "Your god might know I am way more useful alive than dead. As I know no one is able to do as I am. You need my influence and my power, for your goal, aren't you?" It sounds like Gortash is speaking to Bhaal, in case the god does listen.

"If a little filth and pleasure frighten Him so much.." He slides his fingers between Durge's. "He might have little faith in his own spawn and choices."

He kisses the palm.

"If he insists on having me dead, he will bring prejudice to himself first, I am just saying."

The Dark Urge:

Durges stares at his lover in disbelief. He can sense no hesitation, no fear for one's own survival. And the worst of all, no disappointment nor distrust.

And when those lips tickle his palm, he feels like there's a boulder crushing on his heart. This damned affliction that ever compels him to scratch open his chest - it only grows stronger by the days. For the longer he allows himself to gaze upon this mortal. And the more often the mortal smiles back.

"You're a cat, dancing on a too narrow fence. One day you will fall, and won't land on your feet. My blade will dive in your gut in the end, and you will curse all the days you have laid too close to death."

The dragonborn whispers, and Gortash can feel, and see his muscles relax. The hand that rejected him now seeks his face, gently caressing the scar on his chin in anticipation of a kiss.

Enver Gortash:

Gortash slides his own palm up to Durge's chest with that smile he ever only gave the dragonborn.

"I was made to dance on narrow fence, darling." He chuckles cheekily, indulging in the touch on his face.

"And even if in the end it's your blade that dives into my guts, I'll never curse the days that brought me so close to this Dark Urge." His hand move up, mirroring the Bhaalspawn's one, cupping the scaly jaw. After another moment looking into those glowing red eyes, he pulls and moves on to kiss the dragonborn. His gesture is gentle, soft, his palm caressing down Durge’s chin; yet those fingers are still holding on that jaw; demanding, possessive.

"You and I," he growls to the thin lips. "We are made to do great things." Ambition and arousal are sparkling in his eyes. Power always puts this look on his face, and they both know how Durge is the only one Gortash allows to stand beside him, rather than crushed beneath his feet.

"Now, what would you think, using that Dark Urge for something as good as killing, but far less definitive?" He whispers.

His both hands trace circles on the scaly chest, sliding up to lock the dragonborn in an embrace; he leans closer, to whisper into the other’s ear. “I could even let you be on top of me for once…” He nuzzles on the softest part of Durge’s skin; under his jaw, kissing it, biting it.

(To be continued)

#rp thread #mcfallen-god #durgetash #the dark urge #enver gortash #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gortash #durge

[pigeonwhumps]

Mouth stitched shut

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @whumpinggrounds @ailesswhumptober

AI-less Whumptober alt 21: mouth stitched shut

Aaron brings in his friend Joseph to help tend to Phoenix after they're tortured.

Joseph belongs to @i-eat-worlds. This was originally part of an rp we were doing, I wrote this up and Worlds edited it. Enjoy!

1.1k

CWs: immortal whumpee, hero whump, traumatised whumpee, medical whump, painful medical care, past medical whump, flashbacks, mouth stitched shut, caretaker new whumper, no anesthetic

"You sort their mouth, I'll do the words, we treat the rest together, and you do your very best not to show them how angry you are. Got it?"

"Got it." Joseph's dealt with traumatised patients before, it’s practically his specialty, and it's part of the reason Aaron asked for him specifically. This must be bad, if Aaron thinks that worth mentioning.

Aaron nods and pushes open the doors.

Phoenix is lying on the bed, whimpering slightly as the nurse inserts an IV port. Apparently, they can't pack the wounds and general anesthetic doesn't work on them. It's one of the curses of their version of immortality. It seems particularly cruel right now.

They're both scrubbed up, and Aaron leans over Phoenix as the nurse finishes positioning the line and exits. Joseph takes over the job of preparing the lidocaine to inject.

"Phoenix, can you breathe for me? That's it. This is Joseph, he's going to help me with some of your injuries. That okay?" Phoenix nods, and Aaron gestures for Joseph to take over.

"I'm going to give you tramadol and lidocaine through your IV before we start. Should hopefully last longer with both. Let me know when it starts to hurt again."

Phoenix freezes. Their wide, glazed eyes stare up at Joseph like he's their worst nightmare.

"Phoenix? You there?"

_

"I'm going to give you some... IV... hurts."

Phoenix isn't completely there, they know that. But they can see him.

"You know how much general anaesthetic hurts. Don't misbehave and I won't need to use it."

No... no, that's not him. That's Aaron's friend. And he has... scissors? Medical scissors. Shiny medical scissors held in a clean, white gloved hand.

"I'm going to cut the stitches in your face, and Aaron's going to work on the carvings on your torso. Hold as still as you can." He leans over Phoenix's face. They flinch as something touches their side, and Joseph pauses before pushing the scissors into their mouth, the metal depressing the first stitch, leaning against their lips, almost pressing them open.

"Bite down on this, it'll help. Or don't. Just make sure your screaming doesn't distract me."

Phoenix bites the folded strip of leather that's shoved into their mouth, vision blurring as their eyes fill with tears.

Joseph cuts through Phoenix's stitches as they grip the table tightly, one torturous thread at a time. They watch him closely, afraid, aware, distantly, that Aaron's at the other end of the table, that Joseph could do whatever he wanted and Aaron wouldn't know, if they even believed them or cared anyway.

It doesn't hurt as he tugs out the loose threads far too gently, small pieces coming out of their lips, but it starts to sting as he dabs at them. They manage to keep their face free of movement and expression until a needle jabs into their side, and then they yelp, jerking, knocking their head on the hard metal table.

"That didn't last long. Aaron."

Joseph disappears from view and Aaron appears, resting something softer under Phoenix's head.

"It's okay. I'm sorry, Joseph is giving you... take my hand while it kicks in."

Phoenix sees the gentle calmness on Aaron's face but it morphs into a harsh frown when the IV bag comes out.

Their heart speeds up and they turn their head to one side, then freeze. "Please, please no, I can be still, please don't use that, sir, I–"

"What do you think we're going to do, Phoenix?"

"Why do you think I'm doing this? If you can't stay still, I'll have to keep you still."

"Please. Please, I'm sorry, sir."

"It's just painkillers. Just lidocaine this time. Phoenix, easy, I can't– it should be kicking in any moment now. Breathe with me. In and out, nice and slow."

Phoenix does. To do anything but obey would make things worse.

As the pain recedes, their vision swims and they see Aaron and Joseph above them. Not... not him.

"Sorry, sirs," they whimper, "sorry."

"It's fine. I'll let Joseph take over with your face, and let's go again."

Joseph nods. "I'm just going to finish cleaning up your lips and then we can move onto your limbs. Hold still."

Phoenix manages it this time, locking themself up as Joseph dabs at their lips, then moves quickly onto their arm. He makes fast work of cleaning and treating their various injuries, worst first probably, and Phoenix is just about ready to let themself trust those treating them when something wraps around their wrist.

They almost scream.

"Please, don't restrain me, sir, I'll be good, just don't restrain me, please!"

"Stop being such a baby. If you didn't want to be restrained you shouldn't have squirmed so much." When Phoenix can't stop themself he slams their head into the table, leaving them dazed enough to be strapped down, leather tight enough to mark. "Calm the fuck down. I'm doing you a favour removing these pieces as fast as I am, the least you could do is co-operate."

"Easy, Phoenix." But Phoenix can't help bucking, despite the looming consequences, writhing and thrashing because they can't be that helpless again. "It's only bandages. Breathe, remember where you are. Try and relax. You're with Aaron and Joseph, you're safe."

It's hard, so hard, there's nothing they can do, but then something ice-cold lands on their forehead and they gasp.

"Come on, come back, there we are. Stay with me now."

"Please don't kill me. I know I'm, um, inconvenient sirs and it would be quicker if I were dead but please don't kill me, sir."

"We won't kill you, Phoenix," soothes Joseph, "You're not going to die, it's okay. Breathe."

"You're not going to die, don't be ridiculous. But if you keep struggling I'll just wait until you're dead temporarily and take the pieces out then. Some every time until it's done. It's your choice."

Phoenix whimpers, barely able to concentrate on words they really should be listening to.

"We'll take it in turns. One of us stays with you. Joseph, you treat their injuries first?"

"Sure."

Aaron stays with Phoenix, taking their hand. "Stay with me. Focus on me, kid, you're going to be fine."

_

As Joseph takes his turn helping Phoenix stay present, showing them his worst best cat memes to distract them, he realises it's no wonder Aaron warned him to hide his anger. There's no history of Phoenix ever working for a villain, or being held in longer-term captivity by one, which means this was more likely caused by a hero. Joseph knows there are assholes who become heroes, he's met a few, but for someone to do this...

Whoever caused it, he's going to kill them.

#whump #whump writing #immortal cannon fodder #phoenix oc #aaron oc #whumpee and caretaker #whumpee and whumper #hero whumpee #hero caretaker #villain whumper #immortal whumpee #medical whump #medical setting #ai less whumptober

[introspectral]

Vision how can you forgive that witch for what she did to Westview? She harmed all those innocent people, who knows what else she could be capable of? How can you be so sure that she’s not gonna use you?

@illbringthechaosmagic

"Because we are both the same," Vision said simply. "Damaged. Wronged. Grieving. I understand her pain and her anger. I have felt it too. Mankind creates such pain and such anger in others with cruelty and disregard for morality and then... they seek to condemn and vilify them for the results. If you seek the truth of what harmed those people in Westview, then you must look past Wanda and myself, to the source. The sources. All those over the years who harmed us, who took from us, and who made us feel as if our feelings and autonomy mattered little. They... are who harmed those people, for it is they who made us what we are today. Little by little, our pain grew, until it had to force its way out, one way or another. One cannot beat an animal repeatedly and then blame it for its aggression. This is what you have wrought in us. I trust Wanda absolutely. It is the rest of mankind I do not trust."

#illbringthechaosmagic #white vision rp

[theseventrumpets]

♪ ♫ The Seven Trumpets Sound,   ♫ ♪

In a world similar to our own, but full of magic and strange differences, groups of cats gathered by the Four Deities of the Plain are surviving on their own, living in fear of the ones who made them who they are.

After the treacherous Age of Sin, led by the late Gooseheart of the Black, the Decks are unsure of how to handle their current situation. Bodies pile high as a cat was given the task of a God, and now the Decks must suffer from what it caused. With Valerianspade pronounced dead, The White suffering from rampant raccoon attacks, and The Red's Face being struck by visions and absent in action, the only thing the Decks have to look forward to is the next Messaging and Calling, to try and find answers...

►► Zero Trumpets Sing. ◄◄

At long last, The Seven Trumpets is finally open! A year has passed since I began planning this story, and I’m happy to say that I’m finally opening it to the public. I’m excited for this, and I hope you all are as well! The Seven Trumpets is an 18+ horror Warrior Cats Roleplay based around the concept of a biblical apocalypse, inspired by the album 'Until The Horror Goes' by the band John Congleton & The Nighty Nite. It uses a lot of horror themes, though mostly focuses on psychological horror and the idea of unreality and fear, and how those can drive characters to survive, or cease surviving entirely. This RP will focus on some darker topics, and gore will be featured from time to time. This RP may not be for the faint of heart, and I encourage you to make sure you can handle psychological horror before coming into this server! Although this RP is horror themed, it will not be purely angst and hardship. As the goal of the story is to stop an apocalypse, there will be themes of hope and light coming through the darkness, and characters finding the strength to keep pushing on even when everything is against them. Don't expect this server to be purely dark with no happiness, as that just wouldn't be fun for anyone to constantly deal with anxiety and pain and suffering all the time! If you’re interested, read below the cut to see more in-depth details about the server and story, or check out the links right below to get started on reading the lore, about the Decks, and so on. To join the RP, just go ahead and click the link to the Discord server! After you’re in, wait some time for our mods to check you over, and give you permission to join. There are no applications during Trumpet 0, unless the count of people joining gets too high to handle. Anyway, have fun, and I hope to see you there!

♪♫♪► WEBSITE ► RULES ► SEND AN ASK ► DISCORD LINK ♪♫♪► SERVER ADOPTS ► ALLEGIANCES ► LORE ON TUMBLR

"To indeed be a god, to indeed the pale white horse, With you we turn the mountains, went upside down, with you it's a force."

Here’s what you can expect from this RP:

► Oh god, there’s elemental magic built into the cats. ► It all takes place entirely in a world of my own, so there’s a shitton of worldbuilding! ► Paranormal and supernatural activities, including Gods and... Mothman? ► Non-feline animals are allowed in limited quantities! ► There’s no Starclan, just Ad Infinitum and it’s subsections! ► A completely overhauled and hand-crafted Warriors ranking system! ► A mostly liquid time based RP, both in events, roleplay, and aging! ► Morally dubious and evil characters allowed in certain quantities! ► Neurodivergent/mentally ill/physically disabled characters are allowed with no restrictions or paywalls! ► Currency system to add rare traits to your cats, AND MORE! ► Fun games, like a drawing game, trivia game, and an in-character question game, which give you points for currency!

Here's a brief rundown of how the server and story is going to be run: There will be multiple arcs in the story, each defined by a trumpet. Each trumpet will be a different arc. Within these arcs, there will be a generally planned plot to follow, but it won't be completely set in stone, and things can change based on how the players themselves interact with the story and choose to make it flow. That's right baby, this WILL be player driven! There will be a lot of player-mod interaction as the players work with each other to make the story flow, and the mods will be there to make sure their RPs and adventures and questions will be rewarding in the end! Everyone is supposed to feel important in some way, and we will make sure everyone gets their time to shine--as long as they want it, at least.

There will be major events that players can participate in, and there will be special happenings that players can go through--kind of like choose your own adventure type scenarios, just as a special addition to the general roleplaying experience. We don't want anything to get boring or tedious, so be sure to let us know how you're feeling about the RP and the plot itself, as player feedback is VERY necessary in a place like this!

The RP itself takes place in southern Illinois, by the Mississippi river, and not too far away from St. Louis. The Plain of Revelation contains four Decks: The Pale Spades, the Black Hearts, the Red Diamonds, and the White Clubs. The White Clubs are a prideful and dramatic Deck based around secrets and facades, the Red Diamonds are a skill and family-oriented Deck based around pairings and symbols, the Black Hearts are a unified and empathetic Deck based around goals and achievements, and the Pale Spades are an orderly and strange Deck based on promises and vows. They all have their own unique quirks that make them special, ranging from some worshipping the food they eat, to others painting stories in caves to remember history. All are open to join, and all are happy to accept new members!

#wcrp #warrior cats rp #discord wcrp #discord warrior cats rp #warriors rp #wcrpg #wc rp #wc rpg #theseventrumpets #the seven trumpets #7trumpets #the7trumpets #open wcrp #open applications #applications open #open wcrpg #pin #important #t0

[faeriefrolic]

OC Questionnaire

ty for the tag @thefairykey !!! I'll do my witchy boy 💎 I tag: @bastardtrait,, @papermint-airplane, @bool-prop, @nikatyler and anyone else who wants to gush about ocs!

NAME: Cid Sapphire

GENDER: Trans Male

STAR SIGN: Libra

HEIGHT: 5'3 ft

ORIENTATION: Bisexual

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: White

FAVORITE FRUIT:  Blueberry

FAVORITE SEASON:  Winter

FAVORITE FLOWER:  I answered this in a rp ask once so: Favorite flower, huh? Mmmm…. I mean I have a lot of plants and shit in my room cause. Y'know. Witch and all and herbalism… [waves hands in a nonchalant gesture] all that jazz. So.. um… hm. Fav flower…. ….. Hydrangeas are nice. Always liked those. and they smell amazing during Ostara. Just need to keep Moo away from them cause uh. Toxic to cats and rather him not die? Like, look, I get its all pretty and purple or blue or pink or whatever the fuck color it wants to be but - MOO DON'T EAT THE DAMN PLANTS!!!! GET DOWN FROM THERE!

FAVORITE SCENT:  Lavender

COFFEE, TEA, or HOT CHOCOLATE: Coffee with sugar and cream, or tea to calm him

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: Depends on if he's wide awake in bed overthinking

DOGS or CATS: Cats, he loves his magic beanie baby familiar Moo and if anything happens to him he'll kill everyone and then himself

DREAM TRIP: Getting Leon to help him time travel back to a 90s Taco Bell

NUMBER OF BLANKETS:  As many as he needs to stay warm.... or for blanket fort

RANDOM FACT: Cid is blind without his glasses but has overwhelmingly powerful divination abilities when he touches things, his mother enchanted a pair to keep his vision intact and to suppress his magic except when she needed it for her own gains

#tag game #confused club

[elmhat]

// dsmp rp

A Post-Prison Endersmile Drabble

Dream fell against the wall, but remained determinedly upright. Deep breaths in. Out. He couldn’t pass out, or he could very well end up with a knife in his back.

He didn’t know how long it was since he last used the book—how could he? But it was enough for the sheer force of it to be alien again. The world spun.

In and out.

He straightened his spine, looming tall over the body laid across the stone. Slowly, it blinked, red eye glinting in the firelight, and Ranboo hauled themself up onto their knees.

Then the eye snapped to Dream, and went wide.

Ranboo scrambled back against the wall. “W-Where am I?”

Dream had handpicked the location: a shallow tundra cave, not too far from the Syndicate’s land, just warm and sheltered enough to keep them both alive. Dream shivered anyway.

“What did you do to me?” Ranboo’s eyes flicked between Dream and the exit.

“Relax,” said Dream, and talking was suddenly harder than he remembered. “I'm helping you.”

“What— No, you’re not helping me. Wait— What do you mean?”

And Dream didn’t need to explain himself, but Ranboo had presented an opportunity. “Look. I'll let you go back home, back with— to all your friends. But first, I’m gonna need you to tell me something.”

Ranboo frowned. “Tell you something?”

“I need you… to tell me where you were.”

Ranboo glanced outside. “Well, I-I mean, I, um— I don't even know where I am.” All Dream could see was a blanket of white, but then again, his vision wasn’t wholly reliable.

“Think harder.”

There it was, that fear that Ranboo had always been so terrible at hiding. Good. Fear made Dream’s life easier.

“Um. Well, um— I see we’re in the snow. Uh. I live in— in the snow. On my own.”

Dream shook his head. “You don’t have to— I already know about the Syndicate. Techno and Philza and Nihachu, right? They literally helped me escape. I don't care where you live, that’s not— What I need is for you to tell me where you were, like, five minutes ago.”

Ranboo’s face was an open book: panic to contemplation to panic again. “Wait, was I… no, wait, hold on, was I dead?”

“That’s not my question.”

“I'm sorry, I don't— So, wait. You revived me.” Ranboo weighed up the words. “You revived me. You brought me back to life. Which means— Which means I was in limbo. I guess? Is that what you mean? It was just this, um, massive ocean.”

Huh. That wasn’t right.

“What kind of ocean?”

Ranboo’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, why do you want to know?”

“What kind of ocean, Ranboo.”

They flinched. Privately, Dream smirked.

“It— Well, there was just water everywhere. That was all I could see. And I think… yeah, there was this tiny island I was on. Like, really tiny. I was just. Stuck there.”

Ranboo had died by Sam’s blade; Dream wouldn’t soon forget it. But, in Dream’s experience, that kind of death didn’t result in an ocean limbo. It could relate to the prison’s location, he supposed, or to Ranboo’s terror of the burning water.

Whatever the reason, it needed research. Dream wished he could ask Ranboo to accompany him. He would just have to test it himself by the prison’s entrance.

“Are you going to let me go?” asked Ranboo.

Dream cringed as he shifted his weight, then cringed again at the slip—it was too dangerous to let Ranboo see the state he was in. “Head south, you'll reach Techno. He should be pretty easy to find.”

Ranboo gawked. “Oh! Um. Thanks! And, I guess, thanks for reviving me.”

Flames glinted off of netherite; the sword was still within Dream’s reach. No one had come for him, as of yet, but he wasn’t stupid enough to believe it would last.

“Just tell Techno we’re even.”

#Shut Up I know this is random #I just wish we had more from these two #c!dream #c!ranboo #c!endersmile #endersmile #dreblr #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp fic #dsmp writing #drabbles #my writing

[redcr9ssnine]

Hell9!

My name is Kankri Vantas, if y9u haven't already read my 6i9graphy. I mean descripti9n. This is my pers9nal 6u66lr t9 speak 9n my 9wn life experience, t9 h9pefully defeat the claims that, 9n my last 6l9g, I was viewing things exclusively thr9ugh the lens 9f my 9wn experience. I attempt t9 stay entirely su6jective in any situati9n s9 h9pefully I will 6e a6le to 6r9aden many 9f y9ur views 9n th9se wh9 experience the less traditi9nal 6ef9ran experience. N9t that theres anything wr9ng with n9n traditi9nally, I myself c9nsider myself a 6asti9n 9f such, as s9me9ne wh9 identifies rather pr9udly as 69th celi6ate and p9ly-quad-curi9us.

I use he/him exclusively 6ut frankly y9u may use whichever pr9n9un y9u find m9st c9mf9rtable, I'm n9t exactly the m9st picky when it really c9mes d9wn t9 it. I am a male, h9wever, and that isn't in any expectati9n t9 change. I identify as hem9an9nym9us at the m9ment and while I c9mpletely understand any negative reacti9ns a tr9ll may have t9 that dreaded identity la6el; I d9 n9t 6elieve any9ne is pers9nally entitled to my caste. That said, it isn't a secret in the slightest and I am n9t ashamed 9f my 6l99d.

#TW #TW hem9an9nym0us #TW p9ly-quad #TW Hem9shame menti9n

I follow from @websitestar which is where my info/rules are.

This is an Blog-style RP account for Kankri Vantas. The au is undetermined but he's basically canon Kankri, or the closest I can get to it.

My names Jake/Cain I'm 22 I use he/him or hy/hym. I'm a white jew I'm disabled in various and have evil parents. My blog isn't mutual exclusive, no pedophiles (INCLUDES PROSHIPPERS) or racists. I block/unfollow extremely willy nilly, don't take it personally.

CW: Kankri is an asshole, he's a petty bitch and he can be extremely judgemental and socially inept. He is cowardly, multifaceted and deals with a lot of inner conflict. I can't vet every follower if they are okay with Kankri being a dickhead to their character, so if Kankri's canon ableism, sexism and general dickery pisses you off please don't follow. I promise it isn't personal, his character is just like this. If it bothers you, DM me and stop replying. We can decide if we want to stop rping together or just tone it down, but I cannot know if you don't like it if you don't tell me.

Kankri grew up in the cullee system on Beforus which has left him with a lot of scars from intense ableism, child abuse and poverty, and many of the things he says are him attempting to parrot his cullers for a sense of control and maturity that he doesn't feel secure in. He played the game for six years, was in the dream bubbles for a very long time before the beta kids/trolls won the game and they were transported onto earth as a reward, with memories of a casual earth life, with the betas, alphas and ancestors all living together in a family unit. Kankri has been struggling with visions of the signless since he was a kid but in the dream bubbles he was able to control them, and now that he's back on earth it's opened up the floodgates again, and this is basically meant to be a Kankri Redemption blog. He'll learn and get better slowly, but right now he is in ableism repression city. Most of the TW's he brings up are his own triggers he doesn't know how to ask for help for, and most of the claims he makes about other people are him projecting his insecurity onto them.

#ic #ooc #[image] #[kankri] #[face] #[mun art] #[headcanon] #[interest]

[rosecreates]

The Devil Within

On a night where Nimue regains another, rather awful memory of her past during her trance, she runs off to vomit into a bush in the forest whilst plagued by a terrible headache, and unknowingly is followed by Astarion, who isn't keen to let her completely get out of explaining what's wrong.

Word Count: 2,524

Pairing(s): Vague Dark Urge/Astarion during their friends-with-benefits phase

Characters: Nimue (My Dark Urge), Astarion, Alfira mentions

Warnings: Spoilers for Act 1 Dark Urge stuff. It's for the most part introspection into my Dark Urge Nimue. Lot's o' angst with...some comfort, sorta, it's Act 1 Astarion so he sort of does his own weird way of trying to help. Dark Urge-typical violent themes. Light emetophobia warning, as whilst it's not descriptive Nimue vomits due to her urge. Not proofread.

A/N: I wrote this on a whim, first time I've written anything BG3-related actually and first time in a long time that I've written anything outside of Tumblr RP, so forgive me if Astarion's character isn't written the best or in general if the writing isn't great. But it's mostly about Nim anyway and I wrote this for fun. Title is from the song by Digital Daggers, "The Devil Within". The song is practically Nim's urge talking to her directly.

Light pink eyes look around, the little elf they belonged to finding her vision bleary as she processes what's going on. Her head is absolutely throbbing. And red. There's so much red. All over her, all over the ground at her feet- blood. It's blood. The ground is white marble, once pristine but now positively drenched in ichor. But from what, the elven girl wonders, as her sight grows clearer, and her gaze finally finds the source.

The sea of corpses that lie many feet in front of her, before a pulpit where a priest is hunched over with a knife sticking out of his back. She recoils, horror consuming her face, screaming as she falls unto the bloodstained ground. She feels ready to vomit, and gods, her head aches so badly. And yet. And yet, there is a certain satisfaction that she feels, despite the bile that feels ready to consume her. Satisfaction?

Soon, realization dawns on her at what had transpired.

It happened again.

She had done this.

The little elf was the sole one to blame for this grisly crime.

-

Nimue snaps out of her trance with start, breathing heavily as she regained her bearings, her head hurting once more as, just like in the memory, she felt ready to puke.

Another memory of the past, it seemed, and a violent one at that. One that appeared to indicate that these blasted urges she'd been suffering from ever since she awoke on the Nautiloid truly had always been with her, even before she'd been afflicted with amnesia. And the incident with Alfira...wasn't the first time she'd ever blacked out and committed murder in her life, either.

But there were still too many questions she had about the nature of this urge, and why she was saddled with memory loss. But her infuriating butler won't tell her anything. No matter how much she tried to press him when he appeared to her the night after she killed Alfira, he didn't budge. She hated indulging her urge, but she wouldn't be opposed to letting it direct her for once against that ugly creature that called itself Sceleritas Fel.

Alfira...her mind wanders back to that night. The grief she'd suffered immediately after the unintentional murder returns- as if it ever left, because it certainly didn't. Nimue had been ready to welcome Alfira as part of her camp, to become yet another member of the group of wayward strangers united by their need to find a cure for the tadpole in their heads that Nimue found herself de-facto leader of.

Nimue had internally declared herself their protector, despite the fact you could hardly call a woman constantly fighting against her urges to kill all of them in cold blood fit to protect just about anyone. But she thought she had control over those urges. A foolish thought in hindsight, but she thought that redirecting them towards her enemies and using the urges to make her at least a decent protector was working.

In the end, she was only trying to lie to herself, and had underestimated how truly catastrophic her urges were. That underestimation of them led to Alfira's death. Sweet Alfira, who wanted to just go on an adventure with people who were nice enough to help her with her still-ongoing journey to finishing a song for her deceased teacher, who'd perished to gnolls only a short time prior. Nimue finds a slight smile forming on her face as she thinks about the tragedy of it all, of having reunited the apprentice bard with her beloved mentor through a gruesome death perhaps even more awful than the demise Lihala had faced, before shaking her head rapidly.

She hates this. She hates it. None else in this camp are any the wiser to it, thinking her to be their stoic but well-meaning leader, who tries her best to protect them whilst also helping who she can at the same time, but not without asking for compensation. What would they think, if they learned how she usually only helped others because she wanted to spite her urge? How she hasn't the faintest idea of a moral compass, only going by what would make her party happy and to resist against this vile urge hers?

How deep down, she's really just a wretched coward who doesn't even know who she is beyond what fragments of memory slowly resurface, who feels only cold apathy in face of most people beyond her companions, who doesn't even truly understand her own emotions. That is, all except for the fear that drives her, the fear of losing control, and the even worse fear of being alone. That fear is pathetic, she knows, and yet it is also part of why she's managed to continue having enough willpower to remain as she has been.

No one needs to know a thing of what a monster she really is beneath the perfect ethereal facade of a mild-mannered but good-intentioned leader she puts up. But how long can she keep it up? How long until the others start to realize what frigidity lies within the heart of their beloved leader Nim?

She doesn't want to know. If she can keep this up forever, she happily would. She just needs to keep her wits about her, to fight against her urge even harder, now that she knows it can take control of her even when she trances. She has to admit, ever since Alfira's death, she's been trancing even less, and she's been plagued by horrible memories whenever she did trance.

How was she supposed to deal with the prospect that she could trance and then wake up to find herself standing over the corpse of one of her beloved companions? They, who were all that kept her connected to whatever humanity remains within her otherwise monstrous being that hid within the skin of a High Elf?

Dammit, she really is going to be sick. With haste, she gets up from her bedroll as quickly as she can, a hand over her mouth to try to hold it back. She doesn't want anyone to hear her, to see her in this sort of state. And she retches into the nearby bush once she thinks she's far enough away from camp, shaking as her head is still gnawing at her.

"My, you look positively dreadful for once."

She freezes.

Astarion.

Of course the only other fucking elf in camp, who experienced the same sort of trances that had him semi-conscious and bore the same keen senses, would end up breaking from his trance and catching her running from camp with vomit barely held back in her throat and throwing up inexplicably. Of course he would. She has to wonder how he didn't catch her when she murdered Alfira, frankly.

But in fairness to those godsforsaken urges of hers, they weren't stupid. They had gotten Alfira a little farther from her companions before maiming the poor bard. Still, she has to wonder if the vampire knew more than he was letting on.

Or maybe she was just paranoid. Yeah, she's probably just paranoid. Because she's afraid, and god her head is agonizing right now but she can't let him know. He's certainly the one person at camp who'd perhaps make the least fuss about learning her darker nature, but she still doesn't want him to know.

No one needs to know. Nor should they. It's why she never pried into her companions' pasts unless it was truly necessary. She'd say it's because they didn't pry into her past, but she'd been frank with them that she didn't remember anything at all of it. Rather, none were all that nosy, and so she wasn't nosy either, despite her admitted curiosity.

"Had a bad trance, that's all. Sorry if I broke yours."

The icy stoicism was up in full force as she tried to brush it off, even though anyone who was at least mediocre in reading people could tell there was more than she wanted to tell. The way Astarion's crimson eyes narrowed said as much. His beautiful blood-colored eyes, that she'd love to tear out of his skull slowly and carefully to admire from up close- shut up shut up shut up.

"I saw you scurry away from camp as fast as you could and vomit into that bush there, darling."

Of course he saw that.

Her gaze remains cold as it looks at Astarion, pretending to be entirely unfazed. "...And if I did?"

"Normally? I wouldn't care much, but I've noticed you've been...how should I say this, quite disheveled lately, in comparison to that almost irritatingly perfect composure you usually have. You've only ever been anywhere near this much of a mess on that lovely night you and I lost ourselves in one another's bodies. Obviously a good kind of mess, unlike this."

Ah yes, that time where Nimue had taken up the vampire's offer of a night of carnal pleasure, all in hopes of distracting herself for a while from, well, mainly her urges, but also from everything in general. And it had worked. Kind of. The pleasure barely managed to be louder than the urges. It's not that she hadn't enjoyed that night, but it barely achieved what she wanted. And she wasn't sure how 'there' Astarion had been during it. He'd looked so...far away, even though he was right there at the same time.

Still, anything was better than nothing when it came to her damn urges. And right now, she's focused on Astarion not managing to pick at her enough to get insight into her true mental state. He may be being very...casual about this for the most part, but he clearly wanted answers. She's not exactly sure why- it doesn't matter anyway, because she won't give them to him.

"Where are you going with this?" She queries, brow raising slightly.

"What have you been seeing in your trances recently that's caused you to be in this kind of state, darling?"

At least he thinks it's just her seeing bad things in her trances. Her gaze does not move from him as she proceeds to answer with cool-collectedness.

"It's nothing, really, Ast-"

His unimpressed look makes her stop, before she weaves together another sentence to try to get him to stop.

"...It's just been some memories of some difficult battles, that's all."

He narrows his eyes at her. He doesn't buy it. "You may think no one notices, but we've all seen how you delight in spilling the blood of your enemies."

"You can enjoy killing their enemies whilst being haunted by nearly losing your life, or an ally almost losing their life."

He scoffs. "Please, your blatant lack of self-preservation is painfully obvious, as much as I loathe it."

Astarion had certainly made no secret of how he dislikes Nimue going and helping others, especially when it put her or others in danger, that's for sure. Or well, Nimue usually only put herself in danger. She'd rather die than anyone else.

They fall into silence for a few moments, Astarion waiting for her to finally tell what's going on, and Nimue not wanting to say anything. Nimue breaks it first, when she realized Astarion wasn't going to budge.

And perhaps because she wanted to take the chance that she could tell him at least a little of what's going on.

So, she sighs, and in her soft, and right now quite weary voice, she finally explains a little. "...I've been slowly getting back pieces of my memory. But the memories...aren't good ones."

Most of her trances have actually been occupied by the memory of the night she killed Alfira, but he doesn't need to know that.

He tilts his head to the side, and his face shows he just wants her to continue. Begrudgingly, she does. "Tonight, the memory I got was...of a younger me, surrounded by corpses, in...a church, I think. The memory distressed me enough that I felt the overwhelming need to vomit. So I did. And I have a headache. Probably because of not getting great rest."

Astarion evidently listens closely to each word, and nods once Nimue finishes, his arms crossing as he speaks. "Well, it's good that it seems like your memories aren't lost forever." He starts, before he seems to pause to contemplate what to say or do next.

It seems he's not really sure how to proceed, actually. Nimue silently questions why he came if he didn't even know what to do when she fessed up about what's going on. "You're aware you don't need to keep this to yourself, mm? I'm sure the others would let you vent your troubles and help you gladly."

Nimue's gaze finally falls from Astarion to the bush beside her she'd puked in earlier. "...I didn't want to trouble them." It's not a lie. They all have their own problems. Although there's a lot more to this than her simply not wanting to be a burden.

Astarion rolls his eyes. "How about you stop playing the woefully selfless hero already? You've already helped them plenty. They could do to help you a bit in return."

Nimue doesn't respond, her gaze staying on the bush. A minute passes before Astarion dramatically sighs, shaking his head, prompting Nimue to look at him once again. "Tell me, do you plan to try to trance again soon, or not?"

Nimue shakes her head. "I don't think I'll be able to, if I'm going to be honest." Astarion makes a sound of annoyance, before walking closer to her.

"Well, luckily for you, I don't plan to either."

"You don't have to stay up with-"

"Shush, darling. First, let's return to camp, yes?" He motions for her to follow him, and she follows silently, them returning to camp side by side, before he leads her onto the rock formation at the camp's center. At first, she's confused what he's doing, but he soon sits down, and pats the spot beside him, signaling for her to do the same. She obeys, and he proceeds to point up at the sky, where from here they get a lovely view of the starry night sky above.

Ah. He was getting her to stargaze with him. To get her mind off the bad memory.

And, well, she can't say she's upset about it. The stars tonight are gorgeous, she has to admit. She always did love the stars, or well, she'd loved them since she spent her first night camping with everyone. And Astarion- befitting the meaning of his name- was quite fond of them as well.

This was...really nice. Her head still hurts, but it feels like it hurts a bit less right now. And her urges had decided to be quieter now, giving her a welcome slight reprieve for now.

Neither her nor Astarion uttered another word, but simply admired the stars together. Tomorrow would surely have an endless amount of horrors awaiting them as always, but that wasn't right now.

Right now?

She felt the closest thing to peace she had in a long while.

#{writing} #{fanfiction} #{oc fic} #{bg3 fic} #{oc: nimue} #{bg3 - astarion} #bg3 #writing #bg3 writing #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion bg3 #dark urge #bg3 dark urge #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x dark urge #astarion x durge #do not ask me how i vomited up a 2.5k word fanfic between like 10 pm - 2 am i do not fucking know what came over me #anyway hurray for the first bit of writing on this blog i am going to sleep now #as previously stated this is my first bg3 fic so apologies if astarion isnt exactly written the best. again this was focused on nim so yea #i tried y'all but im not gonna go over and proofread this in my current state + this was for fun #hope y'all like this though ive been wanting to write stuff of nim for some time now #maybe when i gain enough confidence i will write what ive really been wanting to write and do something of nim from others' povs #i dunno we will see #anyways goodnight

[citizensofeggtonarchived]

Dimensional Alliance - Closed RP With fstbmp

@fstbmp

Kit was in her lab, working on a new formula that had come to mind in hopes of making progress with her work. The queen had more time to work today given how little she had to do today in terms of royal affairs. "The compound should be stable in theory, yet one misstep and it could cause rapid decomposition of the bones. Too risky to use," the fennec said, ripping out the page from the book and using some fire magic to burn it.

Kit's attention went to her ear piece making an odd buzzing sound, placing her fingers on it to see if perhaps she was getting a call as her magic glasses slowly disappeared off her face. "Hello, is anyone there?" The queen was greeted with silence while the buzzing sound continued. The fennec took out the ear piece, not seeing any damage however something else caught her attention. Thanks to her Lucky Star only she could see the change in the composition of the compounds and magic in the air, some sort of strange energy she's never seen began flooding the room.

Suddenly the room went completely white to Kit causing her to panic and fall out of her chair. The queen watched as the elements in the room began to reform in her vision, though now was looking at some bright circular object, appearing to me made out of the new energy she had seen moments ago. The fennec squinted managing to make a form walking through. She began to worry perhaps this was an attack, someone managing to force open a portal right into the castle. Regardless, of what was going on she was the Queen so had to look the part, so she stood up and had a calm expression on her face. "Hello, is there something I can help you with?" She would be cautious about this stranger, still trying to make out their form as her eyes were adjust to the new type of energy in the room.

#closed rp #fstbmp #queen kit darling #science nerd #blind fennec #rp #ic #crossover #Sonic IDW