18+ only. DM to plot. // Fandom and fandomless muses written and loved by @helga-heason . // Here be chaos, disorder and a bunch of people who really shouldn’t work together.
Here be chaos, disorder, and a bunch of people who really shouldn’t work together.
You must be 18+ for me to RP with you. I will not respond to any DM requests or post interactions if you are under 18.
I am 24, I live in the United Kingdom, and I go by she / he / they.
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Also, feel free to contact me at @helga-heason for general fandom madness! Happy RPing! 💜
Ilya snorted as Firecracker gave his name an experimental utterance, then again as she asked about his nationality. This was always a fun one to explain, especially to Confederates or those allied with a similar mindset.
“By location of birth, yes, I’m American,” he started, fighting back a grin. “But by parentage, no. My birth mother - who I’ve never met, she could be dead or alive and I’d have no idea either way - was Russian, as is my name. My adoptive father, the man who raised me, is German Jewish. My mother named me, apparently, before they took me from her.”
He was very much an open book, and willing to answer any questions anyone might have about him. Honesty and openness didn’t scare him, nor did sharing basic aspects of himself. What scared him was the darker parts, the things he’d read Vought had done to him, the pain from some of their experiments that sometimes felt fresh. They had saved his life as a baby, but they had created something else: a child with an eagle’s cry. A baby with a banshee’s wail.
And oh, how he wished things could have been different. But for better or for worse, this was who he was. And this was what he would fight for: for his right to exist, and for the right of all Supes everywhere. Very few of them asked to be this way, and they deserved to be recognised as independent and autonomous people in their own regard.
Vive la Révolution.
He zoned back into the world, and nodded as Firecracker explained what she’d heard of banshees. He snorted as she said she’d thought he would’ve been more akin to a bat.
“I have a hypersonic scream,” he answered, “it functions like an EMP, if you know what those are. Extremely strong waves of energy and sound that can topple buildings with enough force. My scream can kill, and they call me Echo because it... Well, because it echoes. It bounces off walls if in an enclosed area.”
He sighed a little.
“Sometimes I wish I was more like a bat. Echolocation would be fun. I’m scared of heights, so I’m not sure about the flight aspect.”
Firecracker listened carefully with raised eyebrows and parted lips, obviously having not expected to receive such a thorough answer. Immediately she could tell she wasn't dealing with the average Supe. Most of them had an attitude and a fragile ego which led to hostility and defensiveness. Being a Supe brought the worst out in people quite often. Ilya, at least on her first impression of him, didn't seem to have that mindset or outlook.
"Well, dang, you don't even have to create an interesting origin story. You came with a real one. Why did they take you from your mother? Did you ever find out?" She had no problems asking probing questions. It came with her job essentially, but this was also just pure Misty Tucker Gray coming out. When someone intrigued her, she wanted to know details.
The interest was clear in her voice as she spoke. "An electromagnetic pulse, oh yeah, I know. So basically you could destroy anything, and with the echo effect...if the first doesn't get you, the bounce back will?"
She let out an amused snorted.
"Boy, did they shave your power down to one teeny little aspect to find you an alias. Sometimes the marketing team around here isn't so smart. Just pray Homelander doesn't get stuck on it or else you'll be dealing with the same thing Sister Sage is: a name you hate."
She paused in her steps just a moment to adjust the holster attached to her thigh, straightening it out. When he asked about her power, she gave him something of a forced smile. This was always fun.
"My actual power isn't of much use, I'll be the first to admit it." She stood up straight and held out her hand in front of her. She snapped her fingers to elicit a few lackluster sparks. "Now, it was real cute when I was little and did pageants as a kid, I worked it into my routine and went by the name Sparkler." She tried to make it sound like something that was funny now, but there was a pain to it all underlying her chuckles.
"What I actually do is...sell purpose and propaganda in this war between Homelander and Starlight. Have you never seen my show, Truthbomb?"
What probably helped Ilya grow into a more well-balanced individual was likely just the way he was raised - like a normal child. He was informed he was special, he was taught how to control his scream and how to speak without triggering it, but he was never treated as different. Never anyone’s weapon. Never a pawn in a twisted political game. He could have razed entire buildings to the ground, but he was taught differently. He was raised with empathy and kindness, something oddly lacking in Supe circles, even among parents who were themselves Supes.
So instead of inherent anger, rage, pain - he grew up with humility, grace, and the ability to remain mostly in control of his emotions. That alone probably made him dangerous.
“I was born premature and desperately ill,” he started, slowly, “and they were looking to use me as an experiment anyway. What better to use than a dying infant? If their experiments failed, well, they’d had nothing to lose anyway. They realised I wasn’t going to survive longer than about half an hour at best, so injected me with Compound V and then realised what a horrible idea that had been, because I killed a bunch of scientists a few days later by complete accident.”
He sighed.
“They took me because they wanted to use me. Their newest weapon. My mother never saw me again.”
Although it was hard to put into words, to verbalise and actually acknowledge what had happened and how very evil Vought had been, he found it... Helpful, to get it out, to someone. Firecracker seemed genuinely interested, and while she was known as a bit of a bitch and Confederate-adjacent, she hadn’t done anything overtly heinous yet.
Well, aside from those accusations, but he was doing his best to ignore those. Teamwork never really worked if you detested eachother. The Seven kept dropping in numbers because none of them could get along. He didn’t need to add to that.
“They wanted to call me ‘Banshee’ at first. I threatened to walk and they changed it to ‘Echo’. I still don’t like it, but it’s miles better than Banshee.”
He laughed a little, shrugging. What could he really do about it? These names seemed oddly arbitrary, and while he wasn’t a fan, all he could do was try and get them to choose a name that didn’t sound like he was going for gold in the nightmare Olympics. That was Homelander’s job.
He nodded at Firecracker, with a small smile.
“Pretty much,” he answered. “If you somehow survive the scream, the echo will finish you off. It’s kinda cool, but the... Well, y’know, I do have a pretty high bodycount from my childhood, because babies scream a lot and that was never really ideal.”
He snorted.
“First baby to have a bodycount, maybe. Go me.”
He watched the sparkles in a strange, childlike wonder - it was cute. Maybe completely useless unless in short-range self-defence movements, but cute. Dazzling, too. Perhaps good for mesmerisation in small doses. There was potential there for something great, even if Firecracker didn’t quite see it herself.
“I saw a few episodes, they made me watch them before I came out here,” Ilya said, slowly. “But, ah... You don’t seem to be enjoying it, if you’ll forgive the observation. Still, you have the energy for it. The charisma is good. Maybe that’s why they called you ‘Firecracker’ - outspoken, bold, and unapologetic. They’re not bad qualities to have.”
A silvery-white bodysuit, adorned with an eagle’s head crest on his chest, and Vought’s logo as a small charm on his zip, covered the newbie’s body - though it seemed like a strange choice, given his jet-black hair. Like Starlight’s disaster of a swimsuit costume, or whatever that had been. The newbie himself didn’t seem too bothered by the colour scheme, nor did he really seem phased by the judges infront of him.
He appeared oddly calm. Almost like he’d been prepared for this, or like he’d been through far worse. Perhaps he was just one of those people, capable of staying level-headed in stressful situations. God knows the Seven needed someone like that, someone who wouldn’t crack under the mounting pressure of Homelander’s growing delusion.
When he was excused, he bowed his head and left quietly, turning on his heels swiftly and making a graceful exit to the hallways where the lifts were - though didn’t make it far before he heard a set of footsteps behind him, and slowed down to accommodate the secondary presence.
Firecracker. Southern Belle and by all accounts a bit of a bitch.
Cool costume, though, he had to admit.
“Please just call me Ilya,” he said, sighing. “I really don’t feel like an Echo. It works, but I don’t like it.”
He thought for a moment as to how to best word his abilities. It was like a scream, but one that could literally melt someone’s brain out through their ears. It functioned as an EMP, lethal and very, very loud. But that was quite hard to explain to most people, because to them, ‘I can scream very loudly’ just made him sound like he was prone to tantrums.
"Ilya," she repeated, as if she needed to taste the word, see how it felt on her tongue. "What kind of name is Ilya? Are you American?"
Inside these walls, inside the super suit, she lost the line between Firecracker and Misty Tucker Gray. It all blended together, and not always for the most palatable of personalities. Right now was one of those times. She knew when to crank up Firecracker but not always how to turn her back down until she was out of uniform. A shield for her vulnerability.
She waited though, quietly and patiently for him to find his words, blue eyes turned in his direction. She had been a teensy weensy impressed by his ability to keep a cool head inside the conference room with the eyes of the Seven staring back at him. Not even an awkward shift or a nervous look. Even Homelander unnerved her at times, although she would never let that show or admit it.
"A banshee? Sure, I've heard of banshees. My mamaw used to tell us that we were screaming like banshees whenever we got loud." A slight smile played at her lips. "But lots of wailing and shrieking."
She glanced ahead briefly. "With a name like Echo, they made you sound like you had bat powers or something. So what, you shriek? Does it cause damage?"
Ilya snorted as Firecracker gave his name an experimental utterance, then again as she asked about his nationality. This was always a fun one to explain, especially to Confederates or those allied with a similar mindset.
“By location of birth, yes, I’m American,” he started, fighting back a grin. “But by parentage, no. My birth mother - who I’ve never met, she could be dead or alive and I’d have no idea either way - was Russian, as is my name. My adoptive father, the man who raised me, is German Jewish. My mother named me, apparently, before they took me from her.”
He was very much an open book, and willing to answer any questions anyone might have about him. Honesty and openness didn’t scare him, nor did sharing basic aspects of himself. What scared him was the darker parts, the things he’d read Vought had done to him, the pain from some of their experiments that sometimes felt fresh. They had saved his life as a baby, but they had created something else: a child with an eagle’s cry. A baby with a banshee’s wail.
And oh, how he wished things could have been different. But for better or for worse, this was who he was. And this was what he would fight for: for his right to exist, and for the right of all Supes everywhere. Very few of them asked to be this way, and they deserved to be recognised as independent and autonomous people in their own regard.
Vive la Révolution.
He zoned back into the world, and nodded as Firecracker explained what she’d heard of banshees. He snorted as she said she’d thought he would’ve been more akin to a bat.
“I have a hypersonic scream,” he answered, “it functions like an EMP, if you know what those are. Extremely strong waves of energy and sound that can topple buildings with enough force. My scream can kill, and they call me Echo because it... Well, because it echoes. It bounces off walls if in an enclosed area.”
He sighed a little.
“Sometimes I wish I was more like a bat. Echolocation would be fun. I’m scared of heights, so I’m not sure about the flight aspect.”
Just as it had been with her introduction to the Seven, the new member was paraded in front of them while everybody else sat in judgment of them. Firecracker had grown up in the pageant circuit until she was about 13, so this kind of thing hadn’t been new to her during her own moment in the hot spotlight - it was just a whole new group of judges she had to impress. However, now it was her turn to be the judge. There was a small thrill in it for her to be on this side of the table.
Their newbie was shorter than Deep and didn’t seem to be a complete musclehead. He was introduced as Echo, no doubt a Vought brainchild. She sat up in her chair and looked him over with a tilt of her head. What kind of presence would he bring to the team? Would he last? Homelander was never one to extend these things out into meet and greets. He said what he needed to and left.
On the way out, Firecracker caught up with her new teammate, falling into step with him. He was just a little taller than her, but she was also wearing platform boots. “Hey, just wanted to welcome you to the team officially,” she spoke with a thick Southern twang, ruby red lips wearing a smile though. “So…Echo, huh? What are your powers?”
A silvery-white bodysuit, adorned with an eagle’s head crest on his chest, and Vought’s logo as a small charm on his zip, covered the newbie’s body - though it seemed like a strange choice, given his jet-black hair. Like Starlight’s disaster of a swimsuit costume, or whatever that had been. The newbie himself didn’t seem too bothered by the colour scheme, nor did he really seem phased by the judges infront of him.
He appeared oddly calm. Almost like he’d been prepared for this, or like he’d been through far worse. Perhaps he was just one of those people, capable of staying level-headed in stressful situations. God knows the Seven needed someone like that, someone who wouldn’t crack under the mounting pressure of Homelander’s growing delusion.
When he was excused, he bowed his head and left quietly, turning on his heels swiftly and making a graceful exit to the hallways where the lifts were - though didn’t make it far before he heard a set of footsteps behind him, and slowed down to accommodate the secondary presence.
Firecracker. Southern Belle and by all accounts a bit of a bitch.
Cool costume, though, he had to admit.
“Please just call me Ilya,” he said, sighing. “I really don’t feel like an Echo. It works, but I don’t like it.”
He thought for a moment as to how to best word his abilities. It was like a scream, but one that could literally melt someone’s brain out through their ears. It functioned as an EMP, lethal and very, very loud. But that was quite hard to explain to most people, because to them, ‘I can scream very loudly’ just made him sound like he was prone to tantrums.
The group’s eyes widened as they watched the bear go on what was essentially a killing spree, tearing through goblins as if they were mere rats, fragile things without much resistance. Hardened warriors fell at its feet, overpowered in an instant and unable to fight back against the monster of their own making. There was a quiet, muttered “I like its style,” in the back, from Astarion, but Gale and Eden stayed quiet, Gale going pale as the carnage continued.
Sir Quacks-a-lot quacked loudly in panic as the bear approached where he was standing, to which Eden wiped her bloody palms against her clothes, then knelt down and whistled - the duck was clearly used to it, as he immediately turned his head and rocketed over into Eden's waiting arms. She readjusted how she was holding him, ensuring he was facing forward, then stood back up at her full height.
When, at last, it was over, and the bear switched forms, Gale’s jaw dropped and Astarion made a victorious noise in the back of his throat.
“I told you he was probably Halsin! But does anyone listen to me? NooooOOoooOOoOooO.”
He drew out the last word, but both of his companions seemed to ignore him, so he rolled his eyes and “ugh”-d quietly. Eden seemed to be in mild shock, seeing a bear turn into an elf, mouth slightly open as the duck in her arms wriggled slightly in surprise. She blinked, coughed, and returned to herself.
“Um,” she said, eloquently. “No, um. The- I think he said his name was Rath? A druid in the... In Emerald Grove. He said you were missing, you’d disappeared up this way, so I said okay, I’ll go and look for him. I mean, I didn’t think you’d be a bear, but you’re very handsome, for a bear.”
Astarion snorted behind her - she genuinely believed he was actually a bear who’d taken elf form, what an idiot - and Gale finally managed to pick his jaw back up off the rather grimy floor.
“An honour, sir,” he said, in lieu of any other explanation.
“I’m- I’m Eden,” the minotaur finally managed. “And these are my companions Astarion and Gale, this is my duck Sir Quacks-a-lot, and I feel a little light-headed.”
Her heartbeat had rapidly sped up while watching the carnage, and she wasn’t sure why, because she’d been the cause of many a goblin bloodbath and hadn’t had this happen - but she also hadn’t slept much on the way here, so maybe the sleep deprivation was starting to affect her in weirder ways than she thought. She looked a little light-headed, but she gave her companions a thumbs-up anyway. She wouldn’t go down that easy.
“It’s good to know we’ve found you,” she continued, with a small smile, trying to ignore the heartbeat in her ears. “Rath will be very pleased to see you back. Kagha seems very... Set on the expulsion of the Tieflings.”
Halsin nodded to each adventurer as the woman introduced them, though his congenial smile faltered when she mentioned light headedness. Without a word, he extended an arm out toward her, a sunny glow encasing his hand as his magic reached out to her. His frown deepened when he found two concerns: a mind flayer parasite burrowed within her head and an irregular, too quick heartbeat fro her resting state. Granted, perhaps the latter accelerated with the excitement of his escape or it served as a side effect from the parasite. However, he ticked off the latter immediately when the pair beside her did not exhibit the same symptom.
" Do you normally experience light-headedness and a rapid heart rate? " he asked her, the glow around his hand fading as his hand returned to his side. " That does not appear to be caused by the parasite in your head, which is its own concern. Especially since those that have them appear to be in the thrall of some deity they call the Absolute. You three do not seem to bear such blind fealty, however... "
Another mental note to compare with the physical when he returned to the Grove. What made these adventurers different? Sheer force of will? A different breed of parasite or type of magic used on it? In all this, he felt he might come away from this botched trip with more questions than answers...
It was no shock to him that at least Rath would send someone to discover his whereabouts, but his frowned deepened and his brow furrowed when Eden offered the other part of the news concerning the Grove.
" I apologize that you all have found yourself caught up in the business of the Grove, grateful as I am for your rescue. " He breathed a sigh and folded his arms. " I cannot say the news of Kagha surprises me; she...was not the most open to the idea of offering the tieflings refuge. All the more reason to leave this place sooner rather than later. But I cannot do that without ensuring the safety of the Grove and this region, and, though it pains me to say it, there is no other way to do so than to eradicate the three leaders of this band: Gut, Ragzlin, and Minthara. "
Eden blinked and stepped back slightly, eyes squinting with the sudden magic, but she recovered quickly enough, just watching as Halsin seemed to assess her physical form like he was trying to catalogue every minor flaw.
“Whu- what are you doing...?” she asked, confused, ears wiggling. “I don’t-”
Upon the revelation of her erratically quickened heartbeat, Astarion made a small, venomous noise in the back of his throat, and muttered something along the lines of how he thought it sounded a bit quick, but it went unheeded.
The parasite wriggled in Eden's brain, mildly disturbed by the magic, and she winced, but she nodded at Halsin.
“My heart has always been like this. When it gets too fast, I start feeling light-headed, and that’s usually my indicator to sit down, but...”
She trailed off, gesturing around them.
“I can’t take a break in the middle of a fight. It’s bad etiquette.”
The trio, and Sir Quacks-a-lot in Eden’s arms, all looked at eachother in recognition with the mention of ‘the Absolute’ - they’d heard several mention this strange deity on their travels. A dying dwarf in the forest and his siblings, a large orc in a ruined village, then everyone in this camp. But who was it, and what strange magic possessed these tadpoles to hold them all under the Absolute’s command? They exchanged looks, a conversation without words, then Eden turned back to Halsin.
“Who is the Absolute?” she asked, carefully. “We’ve heard them mentioned, but we don’t know who they are.”
And then, with the request to rid the goblin leaders, she smiled a little, ears flicking backwards and then forwards, tail flicking to the side. She knelt down carefully, letting Sir Quacks-a-lot wriggle and walk out of her arms, then stood back up to her full height. He seemed happier now his wings weren’t being held to his sides to prevent him slapping anyone, and he quacked, hopping about in the blood puddles on the floor.
Strange duck.
But the leaders... They were two-thirds of the way there. Two had been taken down out of necessity to reach Halsin, and one eluded them - likely because they hadn’t yet found where he was hiding. The camp was strangely elaborate; labyrinthine, almost.
Eden pushed her shoulders back a little, trying to ignore the slight stinging in her skull from the tadpole squirming about, and the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears.
“Gut is dead,” she started. “Minthara- was she the very pretty Drow? A Paladin? I felt too bad to kill her, but she isn’t a threat anymore. She won’t be waking up for a while. Maybe we can talk to her when she does? Make her see the error of her ways?”
LANGUAGES SPOKEN: Mimicry, debatable as to if he understands Common
[loud, annoying quacking]
EMPLOYMENT: Certified menace
EDUCATION: N / A
ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
RELIGION: N / A
NEUROLOGICAL DISORDERS: Yeah, can’t help you here. Probably something. Hell if I know what.
APPEARANCE
FACECLAIM: N / A (duck, but see below)
HAIR COLOUR: N / A
EYE COLOUR: Could probably be called ‘cruel yellow’
BODY COLOUR: Snowy-white, with dark blue tips to his wings and tail
HEIGHT: However tall a duck normally is
SCARS: None, surprisingly
FAMILY
FATHER: N / A
MOTHER: N / A - unless you count him as Eden’s fur (feather?) baby, in which case she’d function as his mother figure
SIBLINGS: N / A
SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): N / A
CHILDREN: N / A
PREDOMINANT PERSONALITY TRAITS
- Sir Quacks-a-lot is a Mimic, and as such, cannot be spoken to using Speak With Animals. Eden speaks to him in Common, and while his intelligence level is debatable - thus also impacting his understanding of her - it’s believed that he likely doesn’t actually understand her and instead has learned to associate several words / gestures / actions with their respective actions / gestures. This means, that despite his lack of understanding of English, he is still intelligent enough to pick up on commands and follow them as necessary, as well as being intelligent enough to assess and deal with threats as needed.
- He seems to hold a great love - and fierce protectiveness - of Eden, as gratitude for her constant love and affection over the time they’ve been together. This bond manifests in him protecting her from outside threats as best he can, such as distracting goblins so she can escape or get a job done, and blinding any goblins in the nearby vicinity.
- He can and will judge you for no reason. Don’t provoke him, or you’ll get pecked. He has a nasty bite.
- He will peck anyone who tries to pet him without warning, or whom he doesn’t like. He will warn them first, in the form of an angry quack and a wing flap, but if that isn’t heeded, they may lose a finger. Or two. Or several.
- Once a Mimic, always a Mimic. He is a chronic shiny-things stealer. And no, he doesn’t put them back. Eden has to do it for him.
- If a hat that fits him can be found, he will gladly wear it. It probably makes him feel valued and important. He seems to wear them with pride.
[more loud, annoying quacking]
OTHER NOTES
INTERESTS: Seems to be quite interested by the vast array of shiny things in the world, almost like he can’t quite believe there’s so many. Also interested by the strange strays Eden keeps picking up - there’s a lot to be learned about her friends, even if he’s not too fond of them sometimes.
HOBBIES: Stealing shiny things. Stealing things in general. Quacking loudly for no real reason. Scaring people shitless by creeping up behind them and suddenly quacking and flapping about. Wait, what’s that over there? (Is that your sandwich? Not anymore!)
SKILLS: Has perfected the art of pecking goblins right in the eyes, throat, nether regions and ears. He can also slap things with his wings with startling accuracy. Strong swimmer, decent flier.
SLEEPING HABITS: Sometimes tries to keep everyone else awake (or one person in particular, if he’s in a particularly aggrieved mood), but when he sleeps he’s out like a light, with his head curled against his body.
PROMPTS FOR ORDINARY THINGS THAT FEEL INTIMATE
* inspired by this post. these don't have to be romantic - you can specify romantic or not when you send them. in essence, these are simply intimate, affectionate moments to share with someone you love and care about. adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt
[ lean ] sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder
[ shop ] sender and receiver go to the grocery store together
[ brush ] sender brushes receiver's hair
[ tie ] sender helps receiver with their tie, either by putting it on or adjusting it
[ necklace ] sender helps receiver with the clasp of their necklace from behind
[ zip up ] sender assists receiver with zipping up a piece of clothing
[ unzip ] sender assists receiver with unzipping a piece of clothing
[ shoelaces ] sender bends down to tie receiver's shoelaces
[ swipe ] sender notices a smudge of something on receiver's face and gently wipes it off
[ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair
[ jacket ] sender takes their jacket off and hangs it on receiver's shoulders
[ puddle ] sender hurries to stop receiver from stepping into a puddle
[ drinks ] sender brings receiver a drink from a bar/their kitchen
[ feed ] sender feeds receiver's pet/s for them
[ cook ] sender and receiver cook a meal together
[ feed ] sender allows receiver to try a bite of their dish, holding their fork out for receiver to taste
[ teach ] sender, an expert at something, takes time to teach receiver how it works and how they can get better at it, too
[ readjust ] sender comes up behind receiver and readjusts their stance (maybe holding a gun, holding a golf club, aiming for something, etc.) to help them
[ makeup ] sender fixes receiver's makeup for them
[ bathroom ] sender and receiver go to a public restroom together and have a normal conversation in between the stalls
[ aloud ] sender reads aloud to receiver
[ refill ] sender refills receiver's glass without asking
[ massage ] sender notices receiver looks tense, steps up behind them, and massages their shoulders
[ listen ] sender listens to receiver explain something they're passionate about
[ silence ] sender and receiver comfortably exist in silence together, both of them working or reading or focusing on something different
[ food ] sender brings food over to receiver's house
[ hum ] sender hums along to a song receiver is singing
[ see ] sender sees something that reminds them of receiver and texts them a picture of it
[ admire ] sender stares at receiver across a room, silently admiring and appreciating them from afar
[ win ] sender lets receiver beat them in a game
[ puzzle ] sender helps receiver solve/put together a puzzle
[ carry ] after receiver falls asleep in an inconvenient place, sender carries them to a bed and tucks them in
[ kneel ] sender finds receiver sick in the bathroom ("tossing their cookies"), and kneels beside them, holding their hair back and cleaning their face
[ clean ] sender helps bathe receiver
[ wash ] sender helps receiver wash their hair
[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds
✱˚｡⋆ ↪ THE 𝐒TAGES OF 𝐈NTIMACY. a collection of various action prompts centered around the varying stages of intimacy. feel free to adjust as desired. heavily mature content, dni with this post if you are under 18, & DO NOT use these prompts for non-con scenarios. )
SETTINGS.
[01.] finding privacy in a cramped dressing room.
[02.] cramming into the backseat of a car together.
[03.] slipping into the lonesome alleyway behind the bar for "time alone".
[04.] pulling them away from a party after hours of relentless teasing.
[05.] getting handsy under the table at a fancy dining establishment.
[06.] taking the long way home and pulling over on a dark stretch of road.
[07.] staying behind at the venue after everyone else has left.
[08.] the hotel room door barely clicks shut before hands are on them.
[09.] a tent in the middle of nowhere where no one can hear anything.
NEW TERRITORY.
[10.] finding yourself staring at their mouth and getting caught.
[11.] pulling back from a kiss to look at them, then immediately going back in.
[12.] memorizing the shape of them for the first time with your palms.
[13.] that exploratory first kiss, reserved and shy.
[14.] a gentle first kiss that morphs into intense want.
[15.] feeling the shape of their body through their clothes.
[16.] asking for permission to remove one of their garments.
[17.] finally succumbing to the thick tension & colliding feverishly.
[18.] fumbling with buttons or zippers because your hands won't stop shaking.
[19.] admitting out loud that you've been thinking about this for a while.
HEATING UP.
[20.] pulling them into your lap in the midst of a heated kiss.
[21.] discovering that they're wearing [ GEAR / LINGERIE ] under their clothes.
[22.] kissing away from their lips, down the length of their neck.
[23.] desperately grinding on them through layers of clothing.
[24.] dirty talking directly into their ear to turn them on even further.
[25.] pushing them onto a piece of furniture before straddling them.
[26.] lifting them onto the countertop while making out.
[27.] tugging their hair to expose more of their throat to your mouth.
[28.] the wrecked way they say your name for the first time.
[29.] fabric tearing because neither of you has the patience for buttons.
[30.] removing an obstacle of clothing with your teeth.
UNRAVELING.
[31.] biting down on their shoulder to muffle how good it feels.
[32.] the sound they make when you find the spot that undoes them.
[33.] begging without any trace of pride left and meaning every word.
[34.] their composure cracking for the first time, they finally stop holding back.
[35.] repeating "don't stop" like it's the only language left in their mouth.
[36.] leaving possessive marks in places only they'll see.
[37.] whispering "look at me" right before you take them apart.
[38.] trying to be quiet and failing, so they clamp a hand over your mouth.
[39.] flipping positions so fast neither of you remembers who initiated it.
[40.] their nails dragging down your back hard enough to sting later.
[41.] being told to open your mouth and doing it before the sentence is finished.
[42.] having your hands pinned above your head.
[43.] the desperate scramble to get closer when there is no closer to get.
COMING DOWN.
[44.] fingers lazily tracing the marks they just left on your skin.
[45.] pulling the blanket over both of you without being asked.
[46.] that silent, dazed smile when they catch your eye across the pillow.
[47.] the shaky laugh when neither of you can remember where your shirt is.
[48.] going to get water and bringing a glass back for them without asking.
[49.] lying chest to chest, feeling their heartbeat slow back down against yours.
[50.] the quiet "hey" that means something completely different now.
[51.] "come here" said softly — not urgently. just wanting them close again.
Eden’s eyes widened with the roar, and she and her group scrambled back quite quickly, she and Gale tripping over their own feet as they did. He caught himself, she landed on her butt in the blood, but far enough away from the bear that she wasn’t injured in the breakout. Where she should’ve been scared, angry, upset, or even shitting herself in fear - she just looked amazed. The beauty of nature was something that she couldn’t quite put into words, and seeing one of its animals was breathtaking.
“Or it could just do that,” Astarion said from behind her, sounding faintly annoyed. “That works too.”
Eden managed to get back to her feet, hooves clicking on the stones below her, hands and body smeared with blood from where she’d pushed herself back up - and the fascination on her face was hard to hide. It was such a childlike wonder, written all over her features. She turned around briefly, pulling her pack from her shoulders, digging around, then placing a small slab of meat - a sheep shoulder, or pork chop, something of that ilk - near the bear with a small smile.
“Good gods, you’re beautiful,” she breathed, quietly. “That’s for you. I’m sorry about the goblins.”
Loud quacking rang out from somewhere beyond the pens, but didn’t come any closer. Sir Quacks-a-lot was still running about with the goblins, keeping them all distracted from the attempts to free the bear in the pens. The group looked over at the doors, then at the Worgs, sniffing around them and growling like they had spotted their next targets.
“That... Should probably be dealt with,” Gale said, voice quiet. “They sound hungry. Maybe it’s best to give them the meat.”
“I have more, I think,” Eden replied, checking through her pack, “we seem to be finding limitless supplies out here, I doubt we’ll miss a few steaks.”
Whatever conversation the adventurers held, whatever the minotaur attempted to place at his feet, went wholly unnoticed by the bear. With another roar, he sped away from the group and tore up the stairs, sprinting toward the commotion. Between a rampaging bear and a duck, the goblins at last turned their attention to the real threat.
Unfortunately for them, they did so all too late. Mercy, in that moment, lost its meaning.
Claws and teeth shredded through goblin flesh with a vengeance, red-hot rage driving him. Pain caused by any blow that managed to make contact fizzled in the wake of pure adrenaline and survival instinct. He paid no mind to the blood and viscera coating his fur, but did avoid turning the duck into a pile of feathers. When the last goblin fell to the swipe of his massive paw, he stared at the doors, teeth bared and front legs spread wide and ready to spring.
When little but the squeak of rats on the other side met his ears, Halsin finally allowed his bulky body to relax. His heartrate slowed, and his breathing leveled. Reason fought its way to the forefront of his mind, the memory of personhood and standing on two legs and speech drawing him back to his elven form in a shower of golden light. He flicked blood from his hands and blinked once, twice, thrice as his vision and other senses readjusted to a form he abandoned for days.
The Archdruid at last descended the stairs. " My apologies. I did not wish to risk any of them calling for reinforcements in the wake of my escape. " Forest-hazel eyes shifted between each of them, refamiliarizing himself with the faces he saw from behind bars and placing their voices to each one. Then, he bowed his head. " I am Halsin, Archdruid of the Emerald Grove. I hope this is a rescue mission on your part and not simply a new band of guards paid to ensure my captivity... "
The group’s eyes widened as they watched the bear go on what was essentially a killing spree, tearing through goblins as if they were mere rats, fragile things without much resistance. Hardened warriors fell at its feet, overpowered in an instant and unable to fight back against the monster of their own making. There was a quiet, muttered “I like its style,” in the back, from Astarion, but Gale and Eden stayed quiet, Gale going pale as the carnage continued.
Sir Quacks-a-lot quacked loudly in panic as the bear approached where he was standing, to which Eden wiped her bloody palms against her clothes, then knelt down and whistled - the duck was clearly used to it, as he immediately turned his head and rocketed over into Eden's waiting arms. She readjusted how she was holding him, ensuring he was facing forward, then stood back up at her full height.
When, at last, it was over, and the bear switched forms, Gale’s jaw dropped and Astarion made a victorious noise in the back of his throat.
“I told you he was probably Halsin! But does anyone listen to me? NooooOOoooOOoOooO.”
He drew out the last word, but both of his companions seemed to ignore him, so he rolled his eyes and “ugh”-d quietly. Eden seemed to be in mild shock, seeing a bear turn into an elf, mouth slightly open as the duck in her arms wriggled slightly in surprise. She blinked, coughed, and returned to herself.
“Um,” she said, eloquently. “No, um. The- I think he said his name was Rath? A druid in the... In Emerald Grove. He said you were missing, you’d disappeared up this way, so I said okay, I’ll go and look for him. I mean, I didn’t think you’d be a bear, but you’re very handsome, for a bear.”
Astarion snorted behind her - she genuinely believed he was actually a bear who’d taken elf form, what an idiot - and Gale finally managed to pick his jaw back up off the rather grimy floor.
“An honour, sir,” he said, in lieu of any other explanation.
“I’m- I’m Eden,” the minotaur finally managed. “And these are my companions Astarion and Gale, this is my duck Sir Quacks-a-lot, and I feel a little light-headed.”
Her heartbeat had rapidly sped up while watching the carnage, and she wasn’t sure why, because she’d been the cause of many a goblin bloodbath and hadn’t had this happen - but she also hadn’t slept much on the way here, so maybe the sleep deprivation was starting to affect her in weirder ways than she thought. She looked a little light-headed, but she gave her companions a thumbs-up anyway. She wouldn’t go down that easy.
“It’s good to know we’ve found you,” she continued, with a small smile, trying to ignore the heartbeat in her ears. “Rath will be very pleased to see you back. Kagha seems very... Set on the expulsion of the Tieflings.”
If I fail to respond to you, or message you saying I can’t respond to you, this is why. I can no longer view blogs flagged as mature due to UK age restriction laws, and there isn’t a chance in hell I’m giving them my ID.
If this app had better security and the UK ID database hadn’t already been breached a few times, I would’ve considered it, but as it stands, I’d prefer to keep myself safe.
I apologise profusely for any inconvenience this may cause.
I’ll start this off by saying: hi, I’m Helga, I’m 24, and I was diagnosed with epilepsy aged 8. I medically relapsed at 12. I have suffered approximately eleven seizures in my life, and it took me until the age of 23 to say the word ‘seizure’ without flinching.
My closest friend had a seizure that same year, and a few months later, I decided: fuck it. I have this disorder, it won’t go away, why not educate people on it? It’s that or wallow in self-pity, and frankly, I’m done wallowing. That helps no-one.
I’ve put everything under the cut, so you can keep scrolling without interruption if you aren’t interested.
It’s also important to note that there are several different types of seizures - the main ones are tonic-clonic (characterised by rhythmic, full-body muscle spasming and jerking), absence (like hardcore disassociation), and focal (characterised by confusion, repetitive limb movements, impacted speech and memory, and / or shifty eye movements). There is also tonic, which is similar to tonic-clonic, but has a quicker recovery time and is less ‘violent’ in appearance. I suffer with tonic-clonic, and from what I can tell of Kiri’s seizures, that is the type she suffers too. Hollywood likes using that type.
So, before we get into the nitty-gritty, what exactly is a seizure?
According to The Epilepsy Foundation, a seizure is defined as thus: seizures involve sudden, temporary, bursts of electrical activity in the brain that change or disrupt the way messages are sent between brain cells. These electrical bursts can cause involuntary changes in body movement or function, sensation, behavior or awareness.
Seizures involve sudden bursts of electrical activity in the brain. This can cause spasms or changes in awareness. But not every seizure mea
To put it simply, a seizure is caused by parts of your brain backfiring. It lasts a few seconds, but the fallout can be nasty, ranging from brief staring spells, to full-body convulsions.
Seizures can be either epileptic or non-epileptic, and the difference is in whether there is an electrical indicator in your brain - according to the Cleveland Clinic: Functional seizures (FS), also known as psychogenic nonepileptic seizures (PNES), are episodes that look and feel like seizures caused by epilepsy. But they aren’t caused by abnormal electrical activity in your brain. Instead, these seizures are a physical reaction of your nervous system [...]
Functional seizures are attacks that look and feel like seizures. They’re triggered by stress, not abnormal brain activity.
This likewise goes for seizures caused by infection, illness, an inherited condition, fear / hysteria, childbirth, and / or high blood pressure. Many seizures caused by fear, hysteria, and childbirth are simply the result of an extremely high or sudden blood pressure spike. Some people may have a seizure (or more) after taking drugs, consuming alcohol, and / or combining both.
So now we have that out of the way, let’s move onto Kiri.
Kiri appears to fall unconscious and suffer a seizure (lasting over three minutes) after connecting with Eywa. From what I have seen of the seizure itself, it is shown somewhat correctly - it’s the way it’s treated that is the main problem. And... There are more than a few problems at play with how The Way of Water treats this seizure. This is already a long post, but it’s going to get much longer, so strap yourself in.
1. The length of the seizure
While it’s ‘only’ (I hesitate to use that word) shown for three-ish minutes onscreen, the seizure probably lasts a fair deal longer for Kiri. Most tonic-clonic seizures last 1 - 3 minutes, so what we see on-screen is not inherently problematic. What isn’t shown is the issue - if a seizure lasts longer than 5 minutes, this is known as status epilepticus, and is a severe medical condition that carries a 12 - 44% risk of death (after a period of time).
Status epilepticus (SE) is a neurological disorder that affects to the high mortality risk. Several studies reported predictors of mortality
While it is not properly shown, it is highly possible that Kiri actually enters status epilepticus during this seizure, which is extremely dangerous - to herself, and to those watching the film. It’s easy to dismiss this as just being hand-wavey storytelling, which I imagine it is, but there are genuine ramifications to seizures like Kiri’s that do not stop on their own, or last longer than they should.
2. How everyone reacts to the seizure
Apparently the characters in Avatar have never heard of leaving people alone. It sounds harsh, but the best thing to do for someone who suffers a seizure is to leave them alone. You never touch someone who has a seizure, nor do you forcibly try and wake them up after one has subsided.
Steps to take to provide seizure first aid.
Everyone and their mother appears to be trying to wake Kiri up after her seizure, which, well, you don’t do. She falls unconscious and is out for a while, but this is normal - this is known as the ‘post-ictal’ stage and is the person’s brain recovering from the seizure. Interfering with this will only hurt the person, and may in some rare cases impact recovery. People who suffer seizures may be unconscious for several hours following the event, but this is normal and even expected with certain types of seizures. I was unconscious for a good few hours after the ones I suffered, and everyone left me to wake up on my own, which is what you’re supposed to do.
3. Why she has the seizure
Kiri suffers this seizure after connecting to Eywa, the deity of Pandora. I hope I don’t need to explain this part, but I will anyway, because it might not be that obvious.
Seizures have historically been seen as signs of possession, or as a sign that “the Holy Spirit flows through you”. This is frankly incorrect and extremely harmful to those with epilepsy, and who suffer with non-epileptic seizures. While I don’t believe in demonic possession of any kind, that isn’t the point - religion often ignores actual medical conditions in favour of blaming an external force or saying that prayer will help, which it won’t. There are videos from churches in the southern US - still, to this day - that show obvious seizures (almost always tonic-clonic) and say it’s good, because it’s either “a sign that someone is possessed”, or it’s “the demon leaving their body”.
This is not true.
Most of these seizures in exorcisms are caused by an extremely sudden blood pressure spike, typically caused by fear or hysteria - because the church instills such fear of the ‘evil’ and / or unknown into people, the thought that they could possibly be possessed (for various reasons, ranging from acting differently due to a mental health condition, or for being gay) is so terrifying that being confronted with it may well cause them to be so scared it causes a seizure. It may also happen during the exorcism as the body’s response to hysteria.
Emotional stress can lead to changes in seizures. Feelings of fear, anxiety, & anger. There are ways to manage feelings & decrease seizures.
Having Kiri suffer this seizure while attempting to communicate with a deity only - however unintentionally - reinforces the belief and stigma that seizures and epilepsy are related to faith and possession, and that those who suffer them are not actually ill. I doubt James Cameron intended to cause harm with this, but unfortunately this is a very harmful depiction of seizures, and of epilepsy as a whole.
Some Victorian accounts (usually in works of fiction) also equate epilepsy and / or seizures to inherent wickedness of the self - which also isn’t true. It makes for a pretty lie and an easy way to avoid tackling the actual problem, but only adds to the stigma already present regarding seizures.
Please be warned: there is a sequence of photos of a woman having a seizure in this article.
From scarred outsiders in literature to the cold voyeurism of medical films and photography, people who experience seizures and epilepsy are
This belief may have stemmed from a bastardised version of the original Scripture, which equated epilepsy to immoral behaviour.
4. Kiri’s diagnosis
This is a minor nitpick on my part, but Kiri is diagnosed by a human as having epilepsy after she suffers a single seizure. In reality, it does not work like that at all - you cannot tell, from a single seizure, if someone has epilepsy.
Diagnosing epilepsy requires several tests to monitor the brain, alongside witness accounts of the seizure and the person’s behaviour afterwards, and electrical indicators within the brain. Unless Kiri was tested repeatedly and had more seizures offscreen that displayed the same (or similar) behaviour every time, she cannot (at the time of The Way of Water) be positively diagnosed with epilepsy. As of Fire and Ash, it is a more plausible diagnosis, but one that still carries connotations of possession due to the fact her seizures are caused after communicating with Eywa.
Find out about epilepsy, a condition that causes seizures, including symptoms, treatment and how it affects your life.
I was diagnosed after about the sixth seizure, at the age of 8 - my diagnosis involved multiple brain scans (EEGs, ECGs, all that good stuff), and the witness accounts of my family and friends who had witnessed the seizures.
Additionally, many people may have a single seizure in their life - this can be caused by almost anything, and it is not normally an indicator of epilepsy.
In conclusion:
With all of that said, Avatar is not the first or only production to display seizures this way (far from it), but it is one of the most prominent productions, and it’s disheartening to see it depict seizures and epilepsy in such a way. While I doubt James Cameron meant harm by it, it is - as stated - a very harmful way of depicting seizures, and as someone who has lived with epilepsy for 16 years, I honestly believe we deserve better.
You can easily brush this off as me being too sensitive, and you can easily tell me that I should get a grip and move on, but nothing will change if we don’t speak out. Be the change you want to see in the world, and all that.
Avatar is not real, but seizures are. Epilepsy is. Kiri is not real, but what she suffers is. If it must be shown, let it be correctly and with respect. That’s all I ask.
Hopefully this helps at least a few of you. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! I’m always open to them.
Addendum: rest in peace, Cameron Boyce. I’m so sorry.
Vesperyn started from the beginning, strumming his lute more confidently, with the effortlessness of someone who’d been doing it for years, then paused, looking up at Nan with narrowed eyes. Did she just say ‘dong’. Nan of Baldur’s Dong? Gods above. Maybe a little education wouldn’t go amiss, if they had time to sit down and take a few moments to review a few things.
Sure, he’d come up with some... Questionable, rhymes in his time (not including that one), but he’d never tried to rhyme anything with any word for genitalia. He did know someone who’d managed to rhyme ‘penis’ with ‘hubris’, and then quite fittingly gotten mobbed by the audience for it.
“When a humble bard
Graced a ride along
With Nan of Baldur’s Gate
Along came this song
Of when this High Elf fought
With a silver-tongued Tiefling
And an army of goblins
At our feet, did they revel...”
He trailed off, thinking, and looked over at Nan with a grin. That rhymed. Check and mate, eh? He nodded in answer to her question about whether or not he ate meat, and snorted at her description of vegans. He’d known a few, and they’d been insufferable. Their terrible life choices weren’t his problem, and he certainly didn’t take kindly to being told he was a terrible person for eating the flesh of an animal that would otherwise be wasted.
“Yes, I eat meat,” he said, plucking a few strings, like trying to find some more of the song there. “My older brother used to make an incredible pork bone broth. He spiced it, added some vegetables. The soup was my favourite part, but the meat was lovely too. I’ll have to make it for you someday, if we come across the ingredients for it.”
He nodded, conclusively, like he was sealing a promise.
“... Why?” he asked, after a moment. “Do I look like a pacifist veggies-only kinda guy? I just whacked a bunch of goblins over the head with a lute.”
Nan blew a good-natured raspberry. It was no great feat to recognise Vesperyn's intelligence far outclassed her own, especially when it came to the structure of a good song, but she thought she'd done pretty good. That deserved a prize, at least, so she snatched up an apple to bite into as Vesperyn sang, and offered polite applause as he trailed off. "Very nice, fancy man," she offered through half a mouthful.
Oh, but the spiced pork bone broth... Nan's mouth watered at the very idea of it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a proper meal like that -- which, of course, wasn't saying much -- and she'd give anything for a hearty stew. Rabbits and game fowl could only go so far while traveling, where even the most common of spices felt like a rarity.
"Alright, alright. Some of that fuckin' violent veggies-only business." She snorted a laugh, and sat down. "Just making sure. It's better if we can hunt for some of our meals. Meat's gonna keep our strength up better than a bunch of apples anyway." She still planned to take the bushels with them, of course. For all she knew, something about the Nautiloid crash might have sent all the local wildlife fleeing and they'd yet to come back. "Suppose I could catch us an owlbear or two..." she muttered idly. Did they even taste good?
"Your lute doing alright, by the way? 'S not exactly meant to be a bludgeoning weapon." Not that Vesperyn needed her to tell him that. "You held your own pretty fuckin' well back there. Not your first time in a fight, clearly, but you're not a real fighter. Guess I'm gonna have to keep the gobbos off your back next time, too, yeah?"
Vesperyn nodded at Nan a few times, but fell silent, thinking through the dishes he knew - those he’d cooked himself, those his brother had taught him, those his sister had learned from elsewhere. His brother’s spiced pork bone broth was a favourite among the entire family, and everyone who lived near them. His sister had her own speciality, too - an upbeat, peppery dish with mussels soaked in a carefully seasoned paste and then laid on saffron rice.
And he himself had his own speciality. A delicate boar stew, simmered over high heat until the meat fell apart (which took about half a day, so he had to start it early), with cherries, onions, some milder spices, and vinegar. He couldn’t whip that up while they were out in this wilderness, they didn’t have the ingredients - or, indeed, the time - but he could still make a mean boar steak.
“Oh, gods, no,” he said, zoning back into the conversation. “Owlbear tastes disgusting. The eggs, though... There’s a lot you can do with an Owlbear egg.”
He thought again, through various recipes, then settled on one he thought (or hoped) Nan might like.
“Can you see a nest nearby? We just need an egg, a few potatoes, some herbs... And heat.”
Who didn’t like a good omelette with wedges? He could season both and make it worth her while. A thank you for having his back thus far.
And then, he grinned again.
“While you go looking for a nest, allow me to continue...”
He paused, and nodded at Nan briefly, confirming his lute was alright - showing her where it was reinforced in the back with steel or some other heavy metal, making it a pretty decent instrument with which to bash a goblin’s head in - before strumming it and continuing his strange little song.
Tajiri emitted a small noise of pain - something halfway between a shriek and a sob - as the tadpoles forced a connection, then recoiled as what he saw weren’t his own memories. These were someone else’s, these were days from a blighted life. A large sword, swinging in a wide arc, heads rolling away from whoever’s memories these were. Blood spattered on walls, floors, grounds, clothes - and there was so much of it. It could’ve been used as paint.
And then, the subject looked into a mirror, eyes hazy and face pale underneath the blood spatter.
Nan.
The tadpole released them both, and Tajiri took a few steps back, processing what in the hells he’d just seen. So that was why she looked so wild. It wasn’t the tadpole, it was whatever she’d been doing before this. Was she a barbarian? He’d heard their rage could basically turn them into a feral beast if left unchecked. Or was she an agent of something darker? Did she make a deal with a devil, perhaps?
“Me?” he asked, incredulously. “What did you do? What the hells was that?”
He readjusted the pauldrons on his shoulders, pulling his staff - wood, grit, blood and sweat - back out of its holster, holding it loosely infront of him incase Nan tried any sudden funny business. He was right not to trust the two-legs, and this one would really have to work to prove she wasn’t a threat to the Great Order.
“You are a cursed creature,” Tajiri said, lowly. “What is it? What are you? A barbarian? A consort of a devil?”
There was nothing in her head. Holes upon holes, a red mist in place of true memory. Gory dreams, violent imaginings, but nothing solid. Bloody sand slipping through fingers, grasping hopelessly at air. But Nan couldn't brood. Not here, not now with an entire centaur glaring down at her like she was a killer. Which, to be fair, she was, but she wasn't going to kill him. Not if she didn't have to, anyway.
"'S not gonna fucking work on me, big guy," Nan says, scowling at the staff. It's not a threat, just a statement of fact -- though it was hard to imagining anything coming out of her mouth that didn't seem threatening, considering the amount of viscera painting her now. "Couple of gobbos got me in the head. Should'a shattered my skull and killed me. Didn't." That wasn't the entire story, but it would do for now. Her skull had shattered. She'd felt the bone crack and crunch under the blow. Nothing but a headache remained, only a touch more blinding than usual.
She snorted, frustrated at the lack of answers for her own questions, much less for his. "I don't fucking know what I am. Squiddies scrambled my brains or some fuck when they stuck their thing in my eye. All I got fuckin' left is my name and this guy." She raised Corpsegrinder, a maul as vicious as its name, though she held it like a regular tool rather than a weapon. For now.
“Yes, well, the ‘squiddies’ scrambled my brain too, but I’m not the one with memories of mass murder.”
Tajiri looked down at his staff, then back up at Nan, with a sigh. He didn’t trust her one bit, but she deserved to know that he wasn’t there to kill her - that he couldn’t kill her unless it was deemed absolutely necessary, and even then it was a grey area. How could people justify murder? He supposed goblins didn’t really have much going for them, but they were still sentient beings with thoughts and feelings, still something to be honoured under the will of Silvanus.
“It’s not meant to kill you,” he said, reluctantly, after a pause that went on a little too long. “None of the goblins I dealt with are dead. They’re just incredibly unconscious.”
That wasn’t really an answer, and he knew it, but it was much as he was willing to give for now. If she proved herself more trustworthy, he’d give her more of the story, but for now? A vague insinuation would have to suffice.
His gaze flickered across the blood, the small pieces of guts and bone clinging to her skin, across the small wounds and gashes he could see from where he was standing. There was more to her than this tadpole and those extremely bloody memories - which, if he failed to erase from his memory, he might hand himself over to the tadpole willingly just to stop seeing them - but it was far beyond him to try and comprehend what.
Briefly, he considered suggesting just going their separate ways, but then how were they supposed to get rid of the tadpole? She was the first he’d met to have one too. He closed his eyes, sighed deeply, and nodded at her when he reopened them.
“Whatever cursed objective you have in your wretched life,” he said, slowly, “I don’t want to know. Leave me out of it. But I will concede that our chances of finding a cure are better together, so I will stay with you, provided you don’t start killing everything in sight.”
It was a fair deal, he thought. He could hold his own, he’d been doing it for a while, and a good hit to the back or side of the head could take something down for days or even weeks. He was also large enough to take several blows from larger opponents without much trouble.
Plus, he was a centaur. If all else failed, he could just kick them.
Initially I didn’t have many other than “please be 18+ and please don’t be a dick”, but now I’m actually using this account for more than just OC infodumping, I should probably have actual guidelines.
I am somewhat selective, though not mutuals-exclusive.
- please be 18+. I am 24, I will not write with minors.
- please respect that I am a person, as we all are, and I do have varying degrees of activity and ability to write, due to multiple mental and physical health issues. I will do likewise for you.
- please don’t control my characters.
- please do not spam my inbox (or get annoyed) if I miss something. I have severe amnesia and I’m also very stupid - I don’t know how the inbox / following / dashboard thing actually works between different sideblogs, but I’m learning slowly. I also have a habit of completely forgetting about things. Just poke me gently every now and then and I’ll get back to it.
- if you require a specific post length, please let me know, otherwise I will respond with what I feel works best.
- I am not my characters. Some may be absolute bastards or morally dubious at best, this does not mean I condone their actions.
- if you are looking to write Ascended Astarion or a similar character, we may not be a good match, due to personal circumstances meaning I avoid characters like him. I may, however, be willing to discuss a plot if we have been talking for a while with a different character.
- you are more than welcome to send askbox memes and prompts! I’ll do my best to get to them as soon as possible, and I’m willing to build a plot from them too.
- I am still very new to the Tumblr RPC, so I ask for your patience as I navigate it at a pace and in a way I understand.
- I am an individual with C-PTSD and severe emotional disregulation, this may come across in some of my characters and is a way of me trying to understand myself through them. This, however, does not mean they are self-inserts. They have their own lives and personalities outside of a few small aspects of myself in them.
- don’t be a dick.
- I may write triggering content, this will always be tagged with ‘tw [trigger]’. If I write something that alludes to a potential trigger, but does not directly mention it (or if I’m unsure if it needs a warning), I will tag it with ‘cw suggestive’.
- I know my formatting sucks. I don’t know how to use carrd. Sorry.
- I don’t bite, feel free to chat to me anytime (unless I have specifically requested for you not to).
- I may follow back from this blog or from @helga-heason (primarily because I tend to forget which blog I’m actively using - it’s confusing when your home blog and your messages / notifications blog are different) - the second is my main account.
- I have epilepsy, I was diagnosed at 8, so I avoid all forms of demonic possession (as most tend to mimic the symptoms and appearances of seizures, particularly the type I have), and cannot be persuaded to write it, either.
- smut is on a per-muse basis depending on compatibility and threads we have already written. Romantic ships are fine from the get-go, sometimes it’s fun to jump into things.
If I’ve missed anything, please feel free to let me know!
