#CROOKEDREDEMPTION

[avernusfuries]

@crookedredemption asked: "i wouldn't mind getting second degree burns from you."

Karlach let out a small huff of laughter, jaw jutting almost playfully. "Careful, soldier, when the time comes I may hold you to that."

[crookedredemption]

𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆. - 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝐤 𝖀𝖗𝖌𝖊

#𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍﹔ private ⅋ selective 20+ minors ⅋ personal blogs do not interact. executed by 𝚝𝚘𝚔𝚒. ⁽  they/them ,   24  ⁾

[recitedemise]

@crookedredemption asked: "i am not sure i can be what you want me to be." / Royal, Fantasy Romance, and Spice: still accepting.

Gale looks to her. In the dark of the night, her words carry like a storm. They crackle and roar, trembling in the shadows like some bogey man's coo, but it's little for the volume or some fear's foul inklings... But rather, he deduces, for her dark and doom. He eyes her in study, no frown pulled soft at the purse of her mouth. She had said it like a whisper, like he's hardly even there, and he imagines what eats her is caught eating her insides. She looks reluctant to slumber--and so, too, does he.

Both are reckonings. Both bring death. Gale, with a conjured flame, lights these Shadowed lands.

"Oh, I'm sure we've all had enough of hearing about Gale of Waterdeep," he jests, tone low and teasing, watching the fire glow soft along her jaw. "As it were, admittedly, I fail to see how it is my opinion matters. Regardless of circumstances, what stands is that you and I are both here. Unmoored, perhaps, and with hardly a compass to guide our feet, but we've no longer leash or lead to go mindlessly following. All those roads stretched before us are ours to take."

How sweet. And sick. Casting, the ember Gale stokes feels to give chase to their unsaid worries. It feels figurative somehow, as though he alone can smother the shadows of their fate. Had only he'd such power to go and do so... Eying her, Sylmae's profile gleams both marble-sharp and fine.

"No one should soon rob you of them, me or otherwise. If you don't mind my saying so, I believe we should be far more interested in what you would like to be."

[bloodsalted]

@crookedredemption || send 🛑 to clean blood off of my muse after they protected yours. || accepting!

arms that feel too heavy rest at dean's sides. head back against the tree that's supporting him upright. he's come out the winner. from a fight that didn't do him any favors in the unscathed department. blood trickles down the side of his temple from a cut running along his eyebrow. he can smell the crimson-rust that gathers and beads along his right nostril. his lip? busted open and throbbing. the rest of his body aches. bruises that spawn bruises litter his torso and arms. feels like he's been to hell and back. only not quite. he knows what that's like. maybe a close ALMOST.

tired green eyes meet hers as she draws near. a cloth held delicately in her hand gets pressed to the worst spot on his brow. "you didn't make that easy. when i said to stay back?" he grumbles--voice like whiskey poured over gravel. strained from shouting.

oh that feels so good, though. the blood comes off and stains the cloth brown and red. it's gonna take some time, but he'll heal up. the most important thing is--they lived. thanks to the blade he's gripping so tight in his hand (even still) that his knuckles are pale white. trembling. until he notices and goes about tucking it away. into a dirty coat and the sheath that's waiting for it inside. his fingers ache and refuse to unbend from the gripping position they were frozen in.

dean's gotta use his left hand to rub them loose as his eyes meet hers. "i meant it..."

[alphateamsfinest]

"oh my god, you act like you haven't seen somebody kill right in front of you before." 🙄🙄

Friends, combatants, and those asking her for help, all have been executed while she was within arms reach. When someone's reaching for her, asking for help and to be stricken down-

Most people don't have the guts to be so unbothered about killing and it sets off all of the alarm bells. This woman isn't someone to be trusted and the sooner Jill gets any weapons off of her, the better. It's not often that Jill genuinely hated someone from the moment they opened their mouth, but it seems that the other had a unique talent.

"Your nonchalance about death makes you sound pathetic. If this is all you have to say, keep it to yourself."

[zalimbane]

@crookedredemption : "i dream of gods and monsters . . . and of the man who knew i was both." ( 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 )

𝔽𝔸𝕄𝕀𝕃𝕀𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕋𝕐 . something they both had in each other . this understanding and RESPECT like no other 𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 . unspoken oaths and unsigned contracts . a trust and exploration in each other . secrets half privy enough to 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒅 each other . and a reliance on one another so dependant on their AMBITION .

❝ oh yes i know you , ive studied you . just as you studied me . we may be 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜 of gods , but we are not MONSTERS , we are prophets and we will be worshipped too . ❞

[gothamsaved]

` 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭,  𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬   —   𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐝,  𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲.

[ … ] Sharp,  pale eyes remain firmly pinned on the woman   — Sylmae,  as she hums,  a low,  knowledgeably confident tone wiring itself along her offered words,  giving them such a worrying stability,  all he can do is furrow his brows with a frown tilting along his lips in careful note.  Barely a trace of a waver as @crookedredemption stands by them,  back straightening as she moves to stand to her full height in a comfortably languid pace.

Not at all unlike their first meeting.  The scent is the same    —   more remnants of her work.

` “Ending lives…”

Hardly something he’d call a strength   —   the memories of when he’d needed to train with blades flicker,  but he easily shoves it aside,  stays steady.  He parrots back her words softly,   voice a gravely sound that carries its way through the air like a thunder’s distant rumbling   —   the warning is easy to catch.  But she isn’t afraid   —   no,  she’s far from it.  Rather,  she’s perfectly within her element even with the fresh decay of a scene the silent detective has yet to fully piece together.  His hackles remain raised,  unsure just how much of a potential threat she currently poses.

The scent of the aftermath is a strong one,  all too familiar from all his nights spent scouting through Gotham’s darkened streets for so long.  Intimate,  grim.  The scent of fading lifeblood   —   spilled,  taken.  There’s still the glistening glint of wet scarlet drying along her face,  her hands as she turns to partially face the Bat.

His jaw strains as he swallows,  meeting her curious,  vaguely amused stare head on with a gruffened hum in response.  From what little he’s managed to dig up on her since their last encounter   …   there’s still a lot left unknown.  He recognizes some of the people strewn about   — stray goons,  hired help from varied factions among Gotham’s Rogues.  Continuing on,  his hawkish attention flits back over,  thinly keeping the judgement,  the frustration free from his voice.  He stays cold,  keeps as still as a dead lake.

` “To that end,  I agree.  Though I’m not so sure about what you’d see as truly strong.”

A moment of silence passes,  the edge of his lip curls in a faint snarl,  a baring of teeth as his nose wrinkles.  He jerks his chin towards the nearest fallen man,  glacial gaze remaining connected as he fails to stop the growl tethering along the end of his pushed question — blunt, cutting directly to the chase.

` “Why are you here? Why Gotham?”

` ❛ TRANSMISSION RECEIVED ˒﹚) ↳ "there are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade &&. end lives."

[maimedaffair]

@crookedredemption ↳   LILITH &* SYLMAE

❛ you're back quite late. ❜ a sausage is currently being roasted over the open fire. everyone else is asleep , but she's waited on her. wide lavender eyes flicker away from the flames , focusing on the other. ❛ oh. ❜ brows raise as she examines the blood splatter. ❛ ━━━━ ARE YOU HURT ? ❜ a frown pulls her lips down as she stands , concern the only discernible thought flickering across her expression.

[spiderwarden]

the slayer approached minthara late at night. it's talons dug into the ground as it lowered it's large head towards the paladin. a low vibration rumbled underneath it's red scales, a non-verbal request for minthara to put her hand upon it's skull.

Exquisite. The air always grew heavy when Sylmae's true form takes over. A fearful reverence settles over the entire camp as dread intertwines with every companion from end to the other. Well, most. Minthara did not fear the slayer, no, her culture had always found admiration within them; duk-tak... slayer.

The Drow steps forward while the beast lowers her head, a red gaze lit with fascination and adoration as she closes the distance between them. Free of armor she is free to slip between those two horns as the it clicks and rumbles near her face. Her chest swelling with pride and affection as she presses a hand along the front of it's skull and rubs her palm along the space there. Her other hand dragging along the hard shell of horn above her eyes. "Oh how exquisite you are ..." And she scritches her fingernails down the front of her face and then dips her head to press a kiss right between the eyes. Brushes her lips there and then pecks her kiss on her one more, again and again ...

"My slayer."

@crookedredemption

[facesblind]

@crookedredemption

"i want to know you."

          𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸  𝗼𝗳  𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗺  &&.  𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲  𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀  𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱  𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲  𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲  𝘂𝗻𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗿  𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵  𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘀  𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲 - 𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗱  𝘄𝗶𝘁���𝗵  ;  most  persons  would  be  taken  aback  by  the  nothingness  of  the  woman's  countenance  and  her  gaze  deprived  of  any  emotions     ⸻     thus,  understanding  what's  inside  her  head  is  a  task  one's  destined  to  fail.

          on  top  of  being  forced  to  be  here,  in  a  plane  unknown,  there's  also  the  problem  of  the  tadpole.  fortunately,  it  doesn't  affect  any  of  fate's  abilities  ;  unfortunately  though,  it's  impossible  to  predict  what  would  occur  upon  returning  to  the  homeworld  of  hers in her current state.

          the  decision  of  sticking  to  others  infected  is  one  fate  regrets  perpetually,  albeit  there  wasn't  any  other  &&.  better  choices  to  be  made.  smarter  to  hang  with  those  who  are  in  a  similar  situation  and  also  look  for  a  solution.

          it's  gale  who  annoys  her  most  ;  she  considers  astarion's  behaviour  entertaining.  shadowheart's  pouts  would  earn  a  roll  of  her  eyes  at  best  (if  she  cared  to  fabricate  it),  but  sylmae?  a  mystery  for  whom  fate  paid  no  mind  —  up  until  she  was  spoken  to  directly.

          ❝  there's  nothing  interesting  about  me,  ❞  fate  says  plainly  ;  a  polite  way  of  responding  with  no,  you  don't.  a  year  or  so  ago,  she  would  be  walking  through  faerûn  in  sneakers  &&.  a  graphic  tee.  now,  however,  she  blends  in  —  with  black  robes  &&.  a  staff  on  her  back,  she  looks  like  any  other  magus.  ❝  don't  you  bother  your  pretty  little  head  with  me.  ❞

[bloodsalted]

@crookedredemption || meme catch up! || working through it bit by bit!

"So look, uh, I'm not a grief counselor, but if it's any consolation, I have had to kill and bury loved ones before. A bunch of times, actually."

"that counseling shit's for the birds anyway.. but if you're going to sit here and try to give it? at least join me for a drink." doesn't take him more than a bit of eye contact with the bartender before she slides another shot glass over. the shitty bar in the middle of nowhere just sat the bottle on the bar when he kept ordering more. town's like this? don't pay much mind to how drunk their patrons are getting. long as there's money going in the til. stolen credit card money. but it's money. yeah?

"not a single problem gets completely solved by talking about feelings," and his breath smells like the bottom of that bottle he's working on. he pours two. one for her. one for him. jawline dusted with way more than a five o'clock shadow is scratched before he plucks up the glass and toasts her. "you can call bullshit but we both know that'd be bullshit.."

[archivestarlyht]

❛ the next time i open up to someone is my autopsy ❜ to sol'rys from sylmae

various things spoken in an adventuring party pt.3

sol'rys shrugged,   though the absurdity of the image elicited the faintest hint of a bemused smile.  “what do you expect me to say?”  he asked.  he was not a soft man.  if she sought words of comfort or gentleness for her predicament,  there were far better in their camp to turn to.  the wizard particularly seemed in possession of a faint,  pathetic heart.  

“you remember nothing.  what does it matter to me,  really?”  yet despite the cold carelessness of his words,  the faintest hint of fear lay buried away in the tightly locked chest of his heart.  it must have been the parasite that caused it.  how much longer did he have,   did any of them have,  before he too forgot himself?  or had her parasite simply burrowed in too deep,  clamped its hideous little maw on something that wasn't meant to be fed on?  or was she simply closer to becoming illithid,  warning the rest of them with the hideous clarity of the sun in the sky?  

his garnet eyes glistened keenly in the firelight.  “now and tomorrow is much more important than then,   no?”

[zalimbane]

"they're a 10 but . . . they didn't look for me when orin pierced my skull...."

ℍ𝔼'𝕊 𝔸 𝕋𝔼ℕ , 𝔹𝕌𝕋 ...

❝ Our OATH was to stay out of each other's business . ❞

[voicestm]

"keep those fangs away. i'm afraid you won't like what you taste."

"I'll have you know.. My fangs and I had no plans of making any advance towards you."

The vampire huffs out, arms lifting to cross over his chest. He doesn't even know where such an outburst came from. It wasn't as if he was even looking. He had been minding his own business. And he still was. "And who's to say where my tastes lie."

[maimedaffair]

@crookedredemption ↳   ❛ if i didn't know any better , i'd say you were jealous. ❜  ▐ SYLMAE &* ORIN

❛ 𝐉 𝐄 𝐀 𝐋 𝐎 𝐔 𝐒 ? oh , my darling , i am full of rage. rage that you hold no regard for our craft. rage that you were chosen when murder means so very little to you. rage that you could annihilate everyone who has ever been a flicker of life in this realm &* every other world , &* yet you play friends with those ------- ❜ a sneer is earned as her mind flickers to ketheric &* gortash. wastes of time ; of space.

❛ the call is getting louder , sylmae. i know you can hear him. feel him in your veins. i trust in our father , which means i trust in his choice of you. ❜ her jaw tightens just a bit , but she rolls out her shoulders. ❛ you are going to do great things in father's name . . . or i will gladly do his bidding &* send you to a beautiful , bloody grave. ❜ piece by piece. she'd scrape every last bit of her from her dagger &* bathe in the blood spilled. THE MOMENT COULD NOT COME SOON ENOUGH.

[spiderwarden]

"this is boring. can't we just kill them and call it a day?"

The comment inspires an amused chortle in the Drow. A shift of her eye between Sylmae and the very long dialogue that they were listening to. Minthara could see the impatience wrought in her form, what with folded arms and weight shifting from one foot to the other. Really, it was a sight to behold. And so her answer was simple and excited.

" AhA! Yes!" Arms outstretch to welcome the prospect, "Let us paint the ground with their entrails!"

@crookedredemption said lets murder.