ᛜᛗᛊᚺ

²³

[aforebodingomen]

OMEN - an Introduction.

“I suppose I have to be the one to say it, but does nobody find it a tad bit foreboding that we’ve stumbled upon a literal Omen in our paths? No? That’s not the least bit concerning or on-the-nose for anyone else? Gale? Just me? Alright.” -Astarion

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES IS MY WORK TO BE COPIED, REPOSTED HERE OR ON ANY OTHER PLATFORMS, OR USED FOR/INPUTTED/ INTO AI.

DROW • SORCERER • MONK

THE BIRTH OF AN OMEN. Daughter to Tsab'zen, Omen is the product of Tsab'zen’s rebellious partaking in wedlock. Succumbing to wrathful spats with her parents, Tsab'zen fell into spiteful worshipping of Myrkul; becoming one of favoured worshippers, and promiscuous consorts of Myrkul, Tsab'zen’s mind, and body were consumed. Amongst her worships, were the accompaniment of her agonizing wails of unrequited declarations of love to Myrkul, and pleas for his dedications to her and only her, she offers her womb in exchange for his monogamy. The pregnancy was agonizing - wrathful; among her swelling and spindly pains that pricked through her stomach, she grit her teeth in wrath, and woeful spite at the knowledge of Myrkul infidelity, his chauvinistic disregard for her, for her wellbeing, for everything she had gave. She left, taking refuge in a remote monastery, seeking the merciful pity of the monks. Omen’s birth was wrathful; a grey babe crying in the suddenness of it’s newly given life, and in turn her mother’s screams and wails of agony. The entire monastery shook, while Tsab'zen crowned - candles snuffed out in the temples, censers leaking muck onto the stone floors, and white sand pooled in bowls turning black. A warlock by birth, Gortirth, an elder of the monastery bathed her in the teachings of the astral self, surrounding her in idealism, wisdom of the greater self, and stoicism.

OMEN - THE AWKWARD. Taciturn and foreboding albeit a tad spunky; and stoic to a fault, Omen encompasses the quieter moments of time passing amongst this tumultuous journey. Having been raised in the rural seclusion of a monastery, Omen is meditative by nature, and frugal with words; However, if one were to squint hard enough, they'd be able to find under the phlegmatic mist, lies a curious and tender soul.

WHAT'S THE DESCRIPTION OF THEIR CAMP CLOTHES IN THE INVENTORY MENU? "Incense and other aromatic notes waft from the fabric between your hands; while a sense of tranquility wraps around you, you can’t help but feel an underlying gloom, loom beneath it. You feel the urge to sigh."

WHAT'S THE DESCRIPTION OF THEIR UNDERWEAR IN THE INVENTORY MENU? "You feel an odd presence while you hold these. Wait, does underwear normally levitate!?"

IF YOU WERE TO TRY PICKPOCKETING THEM, WHAT WOULD THEY BE CARRYING? - a variety of incense sticks. - broken pieces of onyx and jade. - ornate jade hair comb. - 3 potions of healing. - the emperor’s unique shell. HOW DOES OMEN REACT IF YOU LICK THE DEAD SPIDER IN THE GAUNTLET OF SHAR? “You give me a migraine.”

[aforebodingomen]

"my monetary was rather isolated...you're the first bear i've seen and you look so soft- " Omen felt herself stumbling over her words. perhaps if she had let the goblins kill her when they had a chance, she wouldn't have found herself in this trice of embarrassment; perhaps if the gods had any mercy, they'd have the ground swallow her whole --if not for her own sake, then so they didn't have to watch her trip over her tongue like a baffoon. The monastery she grew up in was isolated, in the hidden crevices of the high mountains; hardly any fauna flocked nearby nor wandered into its halls. So how, prey tell was she ever to resist now that she was surrounded by them? It took the strength of a dozen men just to hold herself back from guzzling a "speak to animals" potion and and petting every animal she came across in their journey; and to her credit she had maintained focus on the much larger issues at hand, but even so, could she not indulge in this single moment of weakness? was she not owed a moment permissiveness to enjoy nature's adorable creations? "-and there's that adage: 'bear hugs'. "

Ao help her, may he have mercy and may the ground beneath her give, and swallow her whole.

[natureswarden]

Halsin's eyebrow only lifted higher, the explanation offering insight into why she asked but failing to assuage his own misgivings about the request. For starters, she referred to him as a bear, as if his Wild Shape were his true shape over the elf that stood before her. A nitpick, perhaps, when she likely did not consider the implications of how she phrased her rationale for the hug. He imagined she did not view him as a bear, but that she did recognize he was simply a druid who could turn into a bear.

Though he could not deny how it inexplicably sparked an underlying discomfort. Not with the want of an embrace; he did not mind giving hugs when they were requested of him. Instead, it seemed to stem from how she seemed to perceive him versus some unspoken way in which he, perhaps, wished to be perceived.

He pushed it aside, however, because her claims and what he could only describe as naivety as a result of her upbringing did trigger another concern. " I see. I do hope you understand that wild bears are dangerous to approach. Not every bear you meet will be a druid in Wild Shape. " He breathed a sigh through his nose. " But, if this will keep you from unnecessarily risking your life to embrace a wild bear... "

Golden light engulfed the elf, and his already large frame broadened as he shifted from two legs to four. Brown fur sprouted on every inch of flesh. Teeth sharpened, and fingernails lengthened to deadly claws. The light faded, and a bear now stood before her. He sat back on his haunches, blinking expectantly at her.

[aforebodingomen]

Even in this form, the elf still seemed to tower over her. His scars just a prominent, though now buried beneath the lush brown fur and his breaths felt heavy, wet and intimidating now coming from such a sharply-toothed jaw. Sheepishness clung to her as she approached slowly. Her hands tentatively reaching toward the druid, and feeling his soft fur run beneath her palms, before his big furry arms engulfed her entirely.

And suddenly her eyes stung, and suddenly her throat tightened, and just as suddenly she felt the familiar swell taking purchase in her stomach, embarrassment following not far behind. The small reminder of softness gave her aching pause. 

He was warm, and all encompassing; she felt safe from all that linger outside his arms, if just for the brief moment he afforded her. A scattered breath escaped Omen, and then a wetness onto her cheeks. and seemingly, it felt like everything had toppled over.

It was inane. Amongst the continuum of viscera and gore that has been the past few months; finding the lingering anxieties and waves of nausea turning her into a pessimist — all seemed to finally crash against her. How long it’s been since she’s had a softness to swaddle her? or had unexpecting hands soothing her, unwanting of anything she could offer? Just merely there to comfort her until she is ok enough to stand on her own?

Omen buried her face further into the bear's chest, the sorrow hoping to go unnoticed.

[aforebodingomen]

[vivern-of-nosgoth]

POV you are Raphael's Valentine:

[aforebodingomen]

this may be the weed talking but i need halsin’s dick so fucking bad rn

[aforebodingomen]

ugh and his arms

[aforebodingomen]

this may be the weed talking but i need halsin’s dick so fucking bad rn

[silverlunarella]

Celebrate responsibly.

[jamsmemes]

(     *     BARE BONES.

a selection of headcanon questions inspired by key bones in the human body.

skull.   what memories/thoughts do they guard the most from others ?

cheekbone. what makes them smile ?

mandible / jawbone. what are they incapable of saying out loud ?

teeth. what lasting mark do they leave on others ?

hyoid / neck. who taught them to speak up, or stay silent ?

clavicle / collarbone. who/what do they lean on when they're vulnerable ?

scapula / shoulderblade. what burden do they carry on their back ?

sternum. what makes their heart pound hardest ?

ribcage. who/what are they trying to protect ?

humerus. do they use humour as a shield or a weapon ? what from/to ?

radius. who/what do they reach for first in a crisis ?

ulna. who stands by them no matter what ?

carpals. what small habits do they have ?

metacarpals. do they ask for help or clench their fists and bear it ?

phalanges. what is their relationship with touch ?

spine. when do they lose their backbone, what scares them ?

pelvis. what future or legacy are they afraid/excited to be responsible for ?

sacrum. what sacrifices have they made ?

coccyx / tailbone. what outdated beliefs do they still carry, if any ?

femur. what drives them forward ?

patella / kneecap. how compliant/obedient are they, who will they kneel for ?

tibia. who/what keeps them moving forward ?

fibula. do they ever feel overlooked ?

tarsals. what past mistakes stick with them with every step they take ?

metatarsals. if they could disappear for a day, where would they run ?

[aforebodingomen]

"i am a man who keeps his word." (you didn't have many memes so I stole one from one on dash lmao)

“oh? and how much is your word worth these days?”

Even with her flat tone, a lilt of humour could be made out in her voice; the wide glowing eyes narrow mischievously toward him. she swayed drunkenly with only a wine bottle to accompany her.

[arczism]

my favourite wizard again | nsft on my Patreon

[miurgen]

It was a good day for an unhinged Gale drawing :>

Edit: Okay, I shan't call it a doodle 😅❤️

(Twitter prompt)

[macabrebatz]

KINKTOBER DAY 7 - MONSTERFUCKING (Yurgir/Reader)

Summary: With Raphael dead, his contract null and void, and his blood running as hot as ever, the orthon wants to celebrate with the one who brought him freedom.

Author’s Note: Let’s gooo! If you’re new hear, monsterfucking is my bread and butter. It is my go to thing to write about and I am not normal about Yurgir at all, I want him BAD. So this was inevitable.

Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, reader has a vagina, set after killing Raphael, Haarlep lives and him & Hope make an appearance, teratophillia/monsterfucking, oral sex, missionary, size kink/size difference (the man is almost 9ft so it’s to be expected), he calls you “little rabbit” just like he does in the game, not beta read

Raphael was dead, the Devil and his pawns sprawled out in pools of blood on the marble floor. You were pleased for the most part. You had the Orphic Hammer, Mol's contract, and you and your companions carried an indescribable amount of hefty hellish loot.

Your companions sauntered off, walking through the portal but as you stepped closer you felt eyes on you.

You turned around to see the orthon, Yurgir, staring at you. He leaned against the large doorframe near the dead body of Raphael. His arms were crossed and he looked almost sad.

“Why the long face, big guy? You're free now,” you said.

His face shifted, lips turning upwards, smirking as he looked down at you.

“Do not mistake my expression for one of sorrow. I am quite pleased, little rabbit. I am just thinking about my next moves,” he said.

“Which are?” you asked.

“Killing mostly. There’s always a demon that needs to be butchered. But I might celebrate before I leave this place for the Blood War,” he said.

“That sounds good. I hope you enjoy yourself,” you said.

“You could join me,” he suggested. There was a hint of hesitation in his voice but your mind quickly decided not to dwell on it.

“Come back here tonight. We will raise a glass to the devil. May his soul rot,” the orthon said.

Before you could answer you heard a voice coming from the other side of the portal.

“Hey, are you coming?” Karlach’s voice rang out from the other side.

You looked back at the portal and weighed your options in your head. You had nearly died in the House of Hope and you wanted to be done with this place. But not many could say they got to celebrate with an orthon. Whatever his definition of celebration was, it couldn’t be as bad as some of the things you’ve seen in the past.

“Yeah, sure. Why not? I’ll be here tonight,” you said, smiling up at the fiend.

A low chuckle came from him, so deep that you swore you could feel it rattle in your body.

“See you then,” he said.

With that, you stepped into the portal and arrived standing amongst your companions. No one asked why you had taken so long but Karlach gave you a suspicious look as the group walked back to the Elfsong.

When nightfall came and you were sure all of your companions were asleep, you slipped out of the Elfsong and made your way through the lower city.

The Devil’s Fee was still open to your surprise. You were prepared to pick the lock but Helsik let you slip by, not caring whether you live or die in the Hells. The only thing she cared about was that her name never came up in the matter. So you made your way up the stairs, followed the ritual to enter the Hells, and stepped through the portal.

The House of Hope was quiet. With Raphael gone, the people suffering in his home had gone, their contracts gone as well. The only ones left in the house were Hope, Haarlep, and temporarily Yurgir.

You walked through the house to find all three of them gathered together talking amongst themselves. Haarlep was pouring wine into their glass, seeming surprisingly happy despite the circumstances.

“I’m surprised you came. But I thank you for doing so,” Yurgir said. He was sitting on the floor, the sofa that Hope and Haarlep sat on was far too small to accommodate someone his size. You sat down beside him, crossing your legs as you felt heat radiating from his skin. You could’ve sworn you saw the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Here,” Haarlep said, handing you a glass of wine.

It was odd looking at Haarlep. All you could see was Raphael sitting there albeit with far fewer clothes than Raphael would wear. Even with the devil gone, he lingered.

“A toast. To devils we knew,” Haarlep said, raising their glass before taking a sip.

“Cheers to that!” Hope exclaimed.

As the night went on both Haarlep and Hope got progressively more drunk and louder by the minute. Eventually, the two tired themselves out, leaning against each other as they slept on the couch. Yurgir rolled his eyes at the sight. He hadn’t had a drop all night, letting his glass sit while you had a sip, opting not to have more to keep your mind sharp. The last thing you wanted was to be drunk in the Hells while none of your companions knew you were here.

“For a man who wanted to celebrate you don’t seem to be in a very celebratory mood. Care to explain? Don’t tell me you miss Raphael,” you said.

The orthon laughed, shaking his head.

“Funny. And I must admit this wasn’t the celebration I had in mind. But I was indulging them,” he said, hand motioning to Haarlep and Hope.

“That’s…kind of you. To indulge them, I mean,” you said.

He hummed in response, not speaking. Silence fell between the two of you for a moment, the only sound being the crackle of the fire and the occasional soft snore coming from Hope.

“What type of celebration did you have in mind?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away as if he was thinking about what to say. After a moment, he spoke.

“Blood runs hot after battle. It’s still running hot now. There are a few ways I handle it, the main being killing more. But today I was hoping for something different. Something sweeter,” he said.

“And that is?” you asked, slightly confused.

“You,” he said plainly.

You felt your brows furrow as you looked at the orthon. You were confused at first but when the meaning of his words hit you, you felt heat rising in your body, spreading across your chest and face.

“Do you mean what I think you mean?” you asked.

“It does, little rabbit. The more important question is do you want it?”

It took you barely a few seconds to make up your mind, nodding your head. You weren’t sure why you agreed. Maybe it was your own blood running hot, maybe it was pure curiosity and a desire to know what it was like bedding an orthon.

Yurgir stood and in one fell swoop lifted you off the ground. The two of you exited the room, making your way to the boudoir. You were let go out of his arms, falling into the bed below.

You shoved off your clothes rather quickly, your excitement palpable.

“Look at you. Already so eager,” he teased.

He pushed you back onto the bed with his hand before kneeling at the end of the bed, leaning forward until his face was level with your pussy.

“Already so wet for me. Good. I need you nice and relaxed if you want to take me.” You felt your head swim at his words alone. When you hastily agreed to his proposal you had completely forgotten to consider his size.

Sure, you knew he was big. It was obvious. But for some reason, it was only clicking now as you lay before him that the nearly nine-foot-tall, hulking fiend would be big in every aspect. Not just his hands, one being big enough to pin down even the strongest of warriors. Not just his head which was nearly five times the size of your own. Or his horns, which could easily spear right through you if he wished. You hadn’t stopped to think that what hid under his loincloth would be proportional to the rest of him.

Almost as if he sensed your rising anxiety, he brought his thumb up to your cunt and traced along the folds, feeling the wetness that had collected across the skin.

“Don’t fret. I will make it easy for you,” he said.

You nodded, trusting him.

Needing barely any force, he pushed your legs apart as wide as comfortably possible to accommodate the size of his frame. He licked up the length of your core, flicking your clit with his tongue. There was a low rumble in his chest before he plunged into you, tasting inside of you with the split muscle.

His tusk rubbed against your inner thighs, cool to the touch. It was a stark contrast from the inferno that was his tongue, lapping against the soft skin of your inner walls before coming out and licking at your arousal.

His body was touched by the Hells, scorching as it pressed against your skin. It was nothing like your own body heat. He was truly burning hot, not a mere play on words for him. The heat filled you, relaxed you even, which was the plan all along.

You moaned as you gripped the two horns that stood at the top of his head. The other two horns that curled on either side of his head occasionally brushed against your skin.

You pulled at them which caused him to growl, not one of warning but one of arousal. His tongue swirled around your clit, rolling against the sensitive bud between your legs. Your hips moved forward, almost on their own volition, grinding against the orthon’s face.

For a fleeting second, you wondered what your companions would say if they saw you like this. There was already some concern when they realized you had sex with the incubus. What would they say knowing you took on yet another fiend from the Hells?

Those thoughts quickly disappeared when you felt a familiar feeling creeping up in your core. With the way Yurgir was devouring you it didn’t take long for that feeling to boil over, your orgasm overtaking you as you held onto his horns for dear life. You whimpered as you turned your head against the silk sheets, writhing against his lips before he pulled away.

He stood up and pulled you further towards the end of the bed. He reached down, pulling off his clothes to reveal his cock. Your breath hitched as you looked at it. It was heavy and hanging between his legs, girthy enough that you were positive you wouldn’t be able to wrap a hand around it, and ridged much like a tiefling but going further down the length. A thick bead a precum dripped from the head as he lifted it up, grinding it against your cunt.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow,” he said. His voice was low but held so much power. It made goosebumps form on your skin.

His hand guided it towards you, slowly pushing into you. The stretch, even with you relaxed and nearly dripping, was almost painful. You hissed, feeling the heat from him slowly move into you. Only the tip was in and you already felt like it was too much.

Your head fell back on the bed as your chest rose, taking in a deep breath. The sensation was odd. You felt full already but you let out a moan as he slowly pushed further in, desperate to be filled entirely. You doubted you could take all of him but by the gods above, you wanted it.

“That’s it. Take it all. I know you can,” he said.

He was true to his word, working into you slowly, occasionally pulling out and pushing back in. After what felt like an eternity he was in as far as he could go. You were right, you didn’t take all of him, a few inches still remained. But what was in you was enough to make your eyes roll back.

He held onto your waist, letting you adjust to the size of his cock. Eventually, you moved your hips against him, signaling him to move.

He pulled his hips back and thrusted into you. His movements were surprisingly gentle, fucking you like a lover after a long day. If he held any animosity towards you for sending him back to Raphael, it appeared to be gone. His thrusts were at a relaxed pace, stretching you open with every thrust.

The room was soon filled with your moans followed by the occasional grunts and groans of the orthon before you. The wet sounds of your cunt echoed throughout the room as well. You hoped that Haarlep and Hope were still asleep, otherwise, they’d be able to hear you. But then again, Haarlep wouldn’t have cared. Hell, he’d join in given the chance.

“You take it so well. You were made for my cock,” Yurgir said.

You moaned, cunt clenching around him as he spoke. You knew after this nobody would be able to satisfy you the same way again. Maybe you were destined for his cock after all.

“You like that, don’t you?” His hand was brought between the two of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb, “Maybe I should keep you right here. Keep you and make you mine.”

He moved his hips at a quicker pace and you could no longer hold back your sounds. You could feel your orgasm building as he fucked you. The feeling snapped within you, climax coming over you. You shook below him as his hips continuously met yours.

“Look at you unravel,” he groaned, his cock twitching inside of you.

Not far after you, the orthon came, nearly growling as he gripped onto you. Sharp nails dug into the skin of your thighs as he finished inside of you, filling you with even more overwhelming warmth.

He pulled out slowly, watching as his cum leaked out of your cunt on to the bed — Raphael’s bed.

“Thank you for celebrating with me,” he said. It may have been partially a joke but it was laced with sincerity.

“You’re welcome, big guy.”

[natureswarden]

The day had been particularly grating, a lurid exhaustion rested heavy over his companions as most sought to retire not long after dinner. Halsin, however, found himself far from slumber, a residual adrenaline still coursing throughout him from the prior day's battles. He kept his hands busy, mindlessly whittling away at a piece of wood, of which he had no particular shape in mind, just the need to exhaust whatever energy he had left, lest the anxieties of the battles to come start to gnaw viciously at his mind.

His mind, though thousands of miles away, was brought back to his present as he noticed a pale grey figure approach him just out the corner of his eye. Gazing upwards he met Omen's ever glowing eyes, that seems to dispel some of the dark around him, and in turn, illuminating the misshapen blob in his hands. If her presence was what the druid noticed first, then the sheepishness that seemed to wrap around her was second --a far cry from the sorcerer's usual stoicism.

"you wish to speak?"

"perhaps this isn't the best time" "my mind is far from slumber and I could use the company." "it's a rather odd request."

"Nonsense" "its, uh, I've always wanted to...hug a bear. and, if it's not any trouble, could, uh, would you...?"

A tawny, unkempt brow rose toward his hairline. An odd request indeed, especially from her. She did not strike him as the type to enjoy a random embrace from a stranger or otherwise. Nor did she strike him as the type to care much for animals...

" You wish to hug a bear? " he repeated, tone uncharacteristically flat. He folded his arms, caught between amusement and concern flickering in his eyes, twitching the corners of his lips. " Why, exactly? "

[aforebodingomen]

"my monetary was rather isolated...you're the first bear i've seen and you look so soft- " Omen felt herself stumbling over her words. perhaps if she had let the goblins kill her when they had a chance, she wouldn't have found herself in this trice of embarrassment; perhaps if the gods had any mercy, they'd have the ground swallow her whole --if not for her own sake, then so they didn't have to watch her trip over her tongue like a baffoon. The monastery she grew up in was isolated, in the hidden crevices of the high mountains; hardly any fauna flocked nearby nor wandered into its halls. So how, prey tell was she ever to resist now that she was surrounded by them? It took the strength of a dozen men just to hold herself back from guzzling a "speak to animals" potion and and petting every animal she came across in their journey; and to her credit she had maintained focus on the much larger issues at hand, but even so, could she not indulge in this single moment of weakness? was she not owed a moment permissiveness to enjoy nature's adorable creations? "-and there's that adage: 'bear hugs'. "

Ao help her, may he have mercy and may the ground beneath her give, and swallow her whole.

[natureswarden]

"You're quite large for an elf"

" I am? " He lifted his arms and glanced at each one, looked down at his chest and lifted each of his feet of the ground, right then left. Arms lowered again, and his frame shook with a good-natured chuckle. " Such a detail seems to have slipped my notice, stranger... "

[prudejudee]

I want Gale. OH I WANT HIM SO BADLY.

[ejoym]

Three Simple Questions about your OC

Thank you for the tag @teeething! I love doing these but I have a bad habit of spending weeks thinking about it and then never posting my draft LOL. This one is pretty short and sweet though so I'll give it a go!

Why is your character’s eye colour the way it is? Is it random, or not? Devlin has bile yellow eyes that look like an eclipse. The bile color comes from the putrid stew she was born out of. The eclipse in her eyes foretells of her eventual destiny to be the eclipse that blots out all light. (But the simpler answer is that I thought it looked pretty with her magenta skin!)

Who gave your character their name? Gortash! Early in their partnership they would attend social events to target marks for their schemes. Gortash felt her name as The Dark Urge would raise a few eyebrows. He insisted she use a cover name. She felt indifferent, seeing nothing wrong with her existing name, and left it for him to decide. Gortash had a habit of referring to her as a "devilish elf" so he made a portmanteau of devil + elven…. Devlin! And as they grew closer, it stuck. (I know this probably isn't how language works in DnD but just don't think about it too hard lol)

Does your character have tattoos? What do they mean? She has several. Her neck piece is a momento to commemorate that time she had sex with a beholder. The sleeve of tally marks down her arm is a record of her...... corpse brides? To put it delicately. She has some ornamental work down her spine that I haven't decided the meaning of yet... OH! And then a good old fashioned daddy Bhaal tramp stamp! (Bonus bit of lore: I had considered giving her scars but Devlin as a cleric heals herself and erases any evidence of scarring she may have inflicted on herself or suffered from others. She makes a point to erase any evidence of marks on her body. It's not for any lack of scarring but more so a refusal to display them. One part out of vanity. Another part out of hiding the truth of her pain.)

No pressure tags (and sorry if you've already been tagged 😅): @duzemine @kukichart @surgevin @fable2 @numberonedilfenthusiast @autumnlassitude @cleomigadon

Anyone feel free to join in if this sparks your fancy. And tag me too because I love reading about your OCs!!! ^^

[aforebodingomen]

Why is your character’s eye colour the way it is? Is it random, or not? Omen's eyes, or lack thereof, are hollow, empty sockets; an endless, yawning white abyss, only given shape by the vessel that harbours it. There is no shortage of theory as to why her eyes are as they are - most of which are supplied by Gale - however the answer lies in her heritage. Gods fraternizing with mortals, indulging in whatever hedonism a mortal can offer; perhaps a bastard or two coming from such hedonisms, is a tale as old as time - look no further than the camp. Though it's understood that life, even if divine, begets life; such is a different case with Myrkul. Even in all his glory, death cannot beget life, even if such death is divine. So then, what is to be made of Omen? Her vessel is near the spitting image, perhaps copy of her mother's, Tsab'zen. Her soul, however, is her father's. Though the philosophers may ponder endlessly over the soul's inhabitation of the body, in Omen's case the interpretation of the soul within the body is rather literal. If the eyes are the window to the soul, then Omen's body is merely hoisted and puppeteered by such a thing. Astarion, however, will tell you he doesn't care for the reason, stop bombarding Omen with questions and tell her come over so he can see the lock he's picking - a handy little thing when one finds themselves without a torch.

Who gave your character their name? One of the monks from her monastery. They were fairly literal in their naming but after months of oddities wrought throughout the temple coinciding with Tsab'zen's pregnancy - ancient burning candles of worship continuing to go out; windows and doors slamming by themselves; fruit rotten ner a day after harvesting; pools of drinking water opaque with dirt and muck; the gardens wrought with mold and decay; birds dropping from the skies and an eerie silence from the local fauna that never seemed to break; snow storms in the dead of summer- could you really blame them? what else were they supposed to go with? Arilyn?

Does your character have tattoos? What do they mean? No. Tattoos are reserved for religious iconography and ceremonial rites in the Astral self temple; marking the vessel one inhabits is only undergone by high ranking monks or elders. Besides, she's a drow with glowing eyes, does she really need more attention?

@ejoym saw your prompt and stole it. hope you don't mind me tagging on.

[daisyofwaterdeep]

i have a NSFW Gale/Reader thought

hear me out on this one:

You have trouble falling asleep and tend to pick up potions of sleep when you can. A few sips around bedtime knocks you out and helps you be well rested in the morning. You recently finished off a bottle so when you and the gang are looting some crates, you pocket a fresh potion of the creamy lilac concoction.

Fast forward to that night. You stayed up a bit later than you intended, looking over some new scrolls and books you'd picked up that day, and decide you need a little sleep aid. You take a swig of your new potion and settle down in your tent for bed. But sleep doesn't take you. Instead, your breasts start aching. For a few moments you think that maybe your period is coming earlier than thought, but the ache keeps growing deeper, and when you go to feel your tits, you notice that they feel uncomfortably tight...full. And as you squeeze them, you feel dampness against your palms.

Confused, scared, and fighting the first inklings of panic, you grab the potion and stumble out of your tent. Luckily, you're not the only night owl and can see the warm glow of a candle from Gale's tent.

You announce your presence and he welcomes you inside, closing a book of his own and sitting up as you duck into his tent and close the flap for privacy. His pleasant smile immedately falls as he sees your worried face.

You quickly explain about the potion, how it might have been contaminated or perhaps spoiled. Gale takes the bottle and swirls the contents before uncorking it and giving it a sniff. He frowns.

"It uses some similar ingredients to a potion of sleep, so it's viscosity and smell are quite similar...but I believe I know what this is." He looks at you evenly before asking, "Did you take it?"

You nod, and Gale sighs from his nose.

"What sort of symptoms are you experiencing?"

It's a bit embarassing to admit, but you tell him, and he sighs again. You can see that he's not happy with the development and you quickly apologize for the hassle. His face changes then and he waves his hands in front of himself.

"No, no, it's not you, dear. It was an easy mistake to make. It's just that...How do I put this."

He takes in a deep breath and motions for you to sit next to him. You do, and he continues speaking, his voice slow and careful.

"That potion is used for mothers who are having troubles... shall we say, producing. It stimulates the breast tissue and...well, I'm sure you've realized."

Oh gods. You look down at your night shirt, seeing the small wet spots around your nipples. You look back at Gale (just as he looks away--it seems he was staring at your chest as well) and you ask what you should do.

Gale clears his throat. "Massaging the area will help, but to extract everything...you wouldn't happen to know a hungry baby, would you?"

You know he's trying to crack a silly joke, but it only makes tears spring to your eyes. Gale flounders, his hands fluttering around like scared birds before one lands on your thigh.

"Don't despair, dear. I'll...I know it may be a tad unorthodox, but if you'll let me..."

You tell him you don't care what he does, as long as it fixes your problem. You see Gale's jaw flex. He seems to be calculating something in his head before he nods curtly.

"I'll take care of it, don't you worry. Here, lay down for me."

He quickly grabs some pillows and arranges them comfortably on the ground and you lean back, the pillows propping you up in a half-lounging position.

He scoots close to you, his hands going to the buttons of your shirt before he looks up at you with those big brown eyes, silently asking your permission. You can feel your cheeks flush as you nod. He begins unfastening the buttons from the bottom, and with shaking hands, you start from the top, meeting him in the middle. Your shirt falls open, and your breasts are on full display in the candlelight, visibly tight and full, your nipples hard and wet with smeared milk.

"Do they hurt?" He asks, voice a hush in the night air.

You nod, fighting the urge to close your shirt as Gale stares.

"I won't massage them just yet, then. We need to extract some of the, erm, fluid first." He wettens his bottom lip and scoots a bit closer to you. "Do you understand what I need to do?"

It seems that he's just as nervous about this as you are-- you know what he's getting at, but neither of you seem brave enough to say it out loud. Instead, you nod your head and tell him to do whatever he needs to.

He nods and starts lowering his head hesitantly. "I know it's going to feel odd, but it's necessary."

You return the nod and fight back a shiver as you feel the warmth of his breath against your nipple. You look away just as his lips meet the swollen bud and bite your lip to stop any involuntary noises from leaving you. The feeling of his hot lips closing around your nipple and then the velvet wetness of his tongue cupping around it has heat flooding your stomach and cheeks.

He starts with a light suction, your nipple gently pulled into his mouth. You can feel the milk leaving you as he begins suckling, hot spurts that provide an almost instant relief in your aching breast.

You let out a soft sigh and Gale releases your nipple and looks up at you, his cheeks rosy and eyes darker than usual.

"You alright?"

You apologize and ensure him it's fine, telling him that it feels surprisingly good before realizing what you said and stumbling over your words. You flounder and clarify that the relief of the pressure feels good, and he nods his head quickly.

"I knew exactly what you meant." He adjusts himself on the ground, "I'm relieved to hear that it's working...we'll keep going then."

But before he dips back down, you stop him. You realize that he hasn't spat out what he's sucked from you and ask if you all should grab a bowl or something so that he doesn't have to swallow.

"I don't mind," He says, "It's less cumbersome this way." He stutters for a moment before adding, "U-unless it makes you uncomfortable, of course. I'd be happy to--"

You cut him off and tell him it's fine like this. And then, shyly, you ask him what it tastes like.

"It's...sweet. But not overly so." He gestures to your breast, where a pearly drop dangles from the tip of your nipple. "Try it for yourself."

So you do. You swipe the drop onto your finger and suck it into your mouth, surprised at the sweetness, even if that's how Gale had described it. When you look back at Gale, you see a curious heat in his eyes that he quickly masks before bringing his head down once more.

This time, you watch as he latches onto your nipple. The peek of his tongue as he takes it into his mouth makes you clench involuntarily. And then comes that relief again, that lessening of pressure that has you sighing and leaning your head back.

It's almost hypnotic. The feeling of his lips suckling at you, the press of his tongue against your sore nipple, the pain that slowly ebbs away and is quickly being replaced by guilty arousal. You close your eyes and sigh again, hand coming to the back of his head without thinking.

Your eyes fly open and you quickly apologize again. Gale pulls off of your nipple but doesn't lean up, his words breathed hotly against your sensitive breast.

"No need to apologize...please, get comfortable."

You tell him that he should get comfortable too-- you don't know how long this is going to take, and seeing him leaning forward on his knees is making your own want to ache in sympathy. He laughs softly, sheepishly.

"I do admit, it's not entirely comfortable. In that case..."

He moves slowly, carefully between your legs, looking up at you for permission that you grant with an encouraging nod.

Gale lays himself gingerly on top of you, his face level with your breasts. It's how lovers would cuddle, and it brings your heart to your throat.

"There, that's much better," Gale's voice has a slight tremble as he hovers over your untouched breast, "Is it comfortable for you as well?"

You tell him it is.

"Alright..." He takes his hand and gently cups the weight of your breast, "Let's work on this one a bit, shall we?"

He begins sucking at your other nipple, just as tender as the first one. But this time, with him laying against you and your hand returning to his hair, you find yourself letting out a moan despite yourself.

And this time, he doesn't pull away to ask if you're okay--The sound was purely from pleasure, and he seems to know it. Instead, he responds with a slightly stronger suck, his eyes closed and his long lashes on his cheeks. You try not to squirm, the heat between your legs growing to a point that you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy. You wonder if he can feel the thump of it against his stomach.

You don't know how long it goes on. The gentle pull of his mouth on you, the feeling of his warm breaths against your skin, his soft hair beneath your fingers...it's all so decadently pleasurable and you lose yourself in the feeling.

He swaps between your breasts, his tongue laving at your nipple before taking it into his mouth. The feeling of it makes you jolt and shudder and moan. His hand continues cupping your other breast, gently kneading it in time with each suckle. You feel a warm trickle of milk from your free nipple and watch as it rolls down the swell of your tit before meeting his hand. He unlatches himself and goes to that breast instead, licking the cooling trail up your skin before taking your nipple once again.

His tongue is becoming greedier with each of your noises, licking your areola, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin and his nose pressing into the plushness of your breast. You hold his head firmer against you, legs closing around his body as you fight to not grind against him.

He's fully groping you now, both hands gently squeezing your breasts as his hungry mouth takes turns lavishing both nipples with his attention. His eyes are still closed and his brow is furrowed as he works, panting for air between each switch but never allowing himself to fully catch his breath.

You can feel the flow of your milk drying up. The ache in your breasts has mercifully subsided, leaving them feeling tender and sensitive. But Gale doesn't seem ready to stop-- he sucks harder at them, coaxing out each drop against his tongue.

So you don't stop him. You lean back against the pillows and run your hand over his back, through his hair, letting him nurse from you to his content. And as you watch him, you realize with a cold jolt that he's rutting himself against the ground. It's subtle, almost completely missable, but you can see the way his ass flexes as his toes dig into the ground for purchase.

The revelation finally breaks your control. You moan his name and raise your hips against him, spreading your legs as his teeth dig into your skin.

It's as if he had been waiting for this moment. He's sliding up your body immediately, his hot, panted breaths against your face sweet with your milk.

"Gods, I'm--"

Whatever he's going to say is lost as he takes your mouth, that skilled tongue that has been teasing your nipples all this time now pushing past your lips, that sweetness intensified as he kisses you desperately. His body slots perfectly against yours, his hard cock pressing against your pussy and grinding into it, starved for friction. Even through both sets of your clothes you can feel his member pulsing, and as he dry fucks you he groans into your mouth, his hands hungrily feeling over your body, your face, your breasts.

You cry out as the orgasm that has been building all this time finally breaks within you, and you cling to him as you rut madly against him. Your own passionate ministrations make Gale still, and it isn't until you hear his own throaty groan that you understand why.

Your arched back deflates back into the pillows, and Gale's body follows, as if not wanting to be apart from you. You can feel the twitching of his cock still buried between your legs, uneven jumps and shudders that have him gasping and pulling out of the kiss.

"Gods, I'm...I'm so sorry..." He pants, eyes fluttering open and worry knitting his brow. "That was...inappropriate, to say the least."

You hold the side of his face and reassure him that it's alright. And, you add with a smile, his unorthodox methods have managed to do what you sought to accomplish in the first place.

"I must say, I'm rather tired myself." Gale shares your smile, "Why don't you spend the night, in that case? Besides, it's best for me to be nearby, in case you need more...extracting."

You happily oblige.

[junocornkiwi]

i couldn't resist~ 😚

I made a sketch :3