#faereun

[ldy-lilith]

"In the darkness of night, I hear the whisper of the void in your soul, Ivett. You have no stars left, little moonlight"

Animation made by @giallandavart

It is a pleasure for me to give you a gift on my birthday. Or a curse...😈 Enjoy this Shar and wish me a happy 21 🖤

[recitedemise]

'wax poetic' for gen if u would like ... i am blowing u a little kiss ....

Send 'wax poetic' for Gale to work some poetry; his muse is you: still accepting.

She casts a long, great shadow.

Gale follows in her strides.

At once, their tender daughter of the wilds stands gingerly kissed in those hues of earth. He thinks of daisies in her hair, the spirited sprawling of aster between her toes, and they would feel so apt, their fond wizard thinks: appropriate and natural like the wind through trees. She makes streams sing her name, enticing them to croon as it smooths its pebbles, and like the ocean so great that'd sculpt the mightiest of mountains, dear Genesis, endurer, can carve their fate.

Yes. You have sowed in me hope, tempted spring to thaw my winters.

A woman Kythorn-vigorous...! Truly, you've brought my spirit to its growing season.

[woodruids]

hes a ten but...i walked by his tent and the flap was open and im pretty sure i saw him eating honey out of a jar with his fingers. like. whats up with that. okay winnie the pooh.

while i neither confirm nor deny these- aggregious accusations, i will say that this MIGHT be completely in the realm of possibility. might.

i am also once again questioning this winnie the pooh character. he must be quite the figure to be compared to, since i've gotten this so often!

[sanguinir]

@faereun & shadowheart asked : a platonic kiss on the forehead kissing meme : always accepting

𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚂   𝙰𝙵𝚃𝙴𝚁   𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴   𝙾𝙵   𝙶𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙵   𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴   𝙵𝚁𝙰𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃.   The   Mother   Superior   had   been   especially   cruel,   twisting   the   proverbial   knife   in   her   final   moments,   taunting   the   former   cleric   of   Shar   with   her   parents’   torment.   Tav   had   masterfully   slid   a   dagger   through   the   woman’s   ribs,   but   that   had   not   stopped   the   horror   that   was   to   come.   Something   that   had   been   long   dead   in   his   chest   had   clenched   and   ached   as   Shadowheart   bid   her   parents   farewell,   fangs   biting   into   the   flesh   of   his   cheek   to   distract   himself   from   the   thoughts   and   (lack   of)   memories   of   his   own   parents.  

She’d   tried   to   maintain   the   stoic   mask   on   their   way   back   to   their   rooms   at   the   Tavern   and   it   was   truly   an   impressive   effort,   but   Astarion   had   seen   the   tremor   in   her   hands   and   the   faint   quiver   of   her   lower   lip.   Masks   always   had   a   funny   way   of   cracking   when   confronted   with   the   specters   of   the   past   and   being   so   close   to   his   own   personal   hell   practically   guaranteed   that   his   would   shatter,   sooner   rather   than   later.  

The   rest   of   their   companions   had   respected   her   wishes   for   space,   but   the   elf   knew   that   there   were   times   when   people   just   shouldn’t   be   alone.     

It   had   been   easy   enough   to   wait   out   the   rest   of   their   companions,   the   vampiric   nocturnal   wakefulness   not   so   easily   shrugged   off   by   the   tadpole   tunneling   in   his   brain.   He   could   feign   it   well   enough,   sometimes   even   steal   an   hour   or   two,   but   predators   nor   slaves   were   afforded   the   luxury   of   deep   and   meaningful   sleep      —      the   faintest   of   changes   in   air   pressure   or   the   softest   of   noises   often   jolting   him   back   to   wakefulness   with   a   dagger   in   hand   and   fangs   bared.   Even   with   all   of   Shadowheart’s   training   and   skill,   even   she   could   not   stop   the   beat   of   her   heart   or   the   change   in   her   breathing   pattern   from   reaching   his   ears.   He’d   shadowed   her   through   the   still   bustling   tavern,   through   the   winding   alleys   of   the   Gate,   and   to   a   quiet   corner   of   the   park   before   a   neglected   statue   of   Selune.  

❝      𝑶𝒉,   𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕   𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍   .   .   .      ❞

It   was   when   her   shoulders   started   to   shake   that   he   announced   himself,   stepping   closer   and   doing   what   felt   natural      —      something   that   shocked   even   him      —      and   wrapped   her   in   an   embrace.   Having   someone   this   close,   this   platonically   intimate,   made   him   want   to   flinch,   but   he   beat   down   the   urge with a ruthless bite to his own cheek.   He   couldn’t   recall   if   he   had   lost   his   own   parents,   couldn’t   even   recall   their   faces,      but   he   liked   to   think   that   he   too   would   want   someone   to   hold   him   if   he   had   to   offer   them   mercy   with   his   own   blade.   Tears   dampened   the   soft   fabric   of   his   shirt,   and   he   squeezed   a   bit   tighter   in   response   and   tucked   his   chin   to   press   cool   lips   to   her   forehead. It was all a small, if awkward, comfort from a man who didn't quite know what he was doing, but he tried anyway.

❝      I   know,   get   it   all   out.   I’ve   got   you.      ❞

[weavewilled]

5 & 17!!

intimate + sexual headcanons

what are the top kinks that your muse enjoys?

so he'll claim to be pretty vanilla. and honestly, he doesn't need much in the way of extra kink or anything. but, that said, he definitely doesn't enjoy anything degrading or harsh, but is certainly willing to explore. things like teasing, edging, overstimulation, etc — definitely yes, though he'd be at a loss at actually defining it. relevant to bloodweave especially: biting him during, a+. he's also got a big danger kink and this feels new and it's a little embarrassing but damn it, there's just something about getting the blood going in terrifying situations and surviving it.

how confident is your muse in expressing their desires?

decently, though reserved outside the moment. in the moment, absolutely, if you can get him to stop focusing on his partner so much he puts himself in the back seat. but he's absolutely confident in expressing himself and what feels good and what he likes, and refuses to take any shame or embarassment in it. he'll guide. sensation and pleasure are beautiful expressions to him.

[ospraey]

꒰ა @faereun ; cont.

oh, that smirk speaks of trouble. oberon’s antics might amuse a more light - hearted sort, but maverick most certainly is not that sort. it’s clear that the rogue is startled when oberon feysteps right behind him by the way he jerks, try as he might to cover it up with a scowl afterward ; arms fold over his chest in an attempt to regain composure, but mav’s pulse thunders in his chest as he watches oberon bow before him. he’s unsure if the theatrics are an attempt to charm him or simply a part of the elf’s personality, but either way, he’s not entertained. but he supposes it’s something he’s going to have to get used to, if they’re going to be allies.

allies : the word tastes unfamiliar, but it is one mav needs to add to his vocabulary if he wants to maintain any of the connections he’s made since the nautiloid crash. as though responding to both his thoughts and the other’s words, mav feels the tadpole in his head briefly connect with oberon’s, their minds brushing against each other. it’s not enough to get a sense of what’s in his mind, but mav recoils a little anyway. the reminder of their situation doesn’t improve his mood much.

❝  i’m sure you will. ❞ a heavy sigh falls from parted lips, and maverick allows his furrowed brow to relax a little, deciding to try and be more ... civil. ❝  it’s a useful skill. i don’t doubt it’ll come in handy. ❞

[sanguinir]

@faereun & shadowheart asked : ❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜ too lazy to find and link the meme. no longer accepting.

𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝚈𝙴𝙻𝙿   𝙷𝙴   𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂   𝙸𝚂   𝙱𝙾𝚃𝙷   𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙶𝙽𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙳   𝙰𝙽𝙳   𝙷𝙸𝙶𝙷   𝙿𝙸𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙳,   flinching   violently   away   from   the   cleric   as   she   tried   to   apply   some   sort   of   herbal   (and   rancid   smelling)   paste   to   the   burns   on   his   ribs.   Close   quarters   fighting   was   fun   and   all   until   some   now-dead   idiot   with   a   magic   circlet   started   blasting   rays   of   fire   around      —      even   an   intimate   acquaintance   with   a   Sussur   dagger   didn’t   let   Astarion   escape   unscathed.   But   this   concoction   allegedly   made   of   basalm   and   rogue’s   morsel   seemed   to   make   everything   worse   and   his   fingernails   threatened   to   break   the   skin   of   his   palms   with   each   pass   of   Shadowheart’s   hand.

❝      What   in   the   hells   did   you   learn   at   that   stupid   enclave   of   yours?   Because   it   most   certainly   couldn’t   have   been   healing!      ❞

Prone   on   a   cot,   armor   discarded,   laid   bare   .   .   .   It   was   taking   every   bit   of   his   will   to   not   lash   out,   fangs   bared   and   daggers   drawn   like   instinct   demanded.   But   instead,   he   kept   the   mask   on         —      pouting   and   whining   with   a   knife   edged   tongue,   playing   the   foppish   rogue   to   keep   from   just   how   vulnerable   he   was   feeling.   ❝      Did   you   confuse   an   acid   vial   for   one   of   the   suspensions?!      ❞

[griefology]

the dark swallows everything. sometimes, shadowheart feels as though she, herself, has been swallowed. that she, herself, is lost in some kind of abyss that won't set her free. it won't let her out. memory loss feels vaguely like this : phantom taste on the tongue. a grief so profound every time you look at the moon.

she stops looking at the moon. she focuses on her hands, instead, as they warm by the fire.

❝ what is it you wish to say ? ❞ the raven - haired cleric does not need to glance at genesis to know she is being looked at. it only takes a moment to get her response. ❝ your heart has such darkness. ❞ @faereun speaks, and it causes something to tighten in shadowheart's chest. still, she doesn't look away from the flame. ❝ darkness knows darkness then, does it not ? ❞