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mahiiimahiiii · 9 months ago

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its here!!!

An:/ will I ever finish a fic that I start? We will never know. Trying to keep this short and saucy. Maybe it will become a series…? Modern au Baldur’s gate, this is bisexual cat dad gale I mentioned earlier this week, feedback would be appreciated. (first time writing gale woohooo!!)

Tdlr: you thought that I was feelin’ you? Nah that rizzard’s a munch.

word count: around 4k

(this will have a named durge :9, her name is wynne and I post her often, but shes a brown drow with shoulder length curly hair and heterochromia due to her glass eye.)

Cw: cunnilingus, light consciousness, sleepy sex, breakfast in bed? More like breakfast and headdd. Possessiveness, previous substance usage, previously established relationship, durge is mentally illest, slight cervix brusing, hurt and comfort, biting/claiming, we must take it easy so gale doesn’t blow up.

Smothered in a deck of pillows you laid at the prodigal wizard’s bedside, a career you thought merely extinct in the modern era. A purveyor and ever the pioneer he was- integrating his magic into online technology, now consulting other businesses on its integration; Gale Dekarios was always ahead of the curve.

You didn’t think of him a fan of minimalism, his rooms each eggshell white with delicate paintings in dark oak frames. The only things maximalist was his collection of ancient tomes lining the walls of his cozy apartment, a certain fire hazard for one too prone to burning things.

He had worried, inviting you into his home. At one point you had invited him to stay at your home, a shabby apartment in disarray nestled in the lower city of Baldur’s gate- the political district. You hadn’t taken your meds in months, too busy to fill out a prescription- you snapped. It was terrifying and beautiful all together.

He called the pharmacy after that, setting alarms and reminders in your phone to take them. You had slept soundly with a little coaxing, your face softened into peaceful smile, surrounded by sensory items galore. He kissed you when you woke up and cried and apologized for your behavior. Your lips were salty from tears, but that made them sweeter.

He told you not to apologize, he promised he would take care of you.

“It’s rotten work” you had cried, and he laughed.

Not to me. Not if it’s you.

That was the first time your lips uttered an “I love you.” His heart sang- he gushed to tara when he got home afterwards, plucking out stacks of classical romance.

He had much he wanted to share with you. How he admired you.

He had told you as much.

His bedroom now, had touches of your presence. A couple of sweaters hung in his closet, perfume and soaps on his counter, meds, cup of water, and eyedrops on his bedside table. The door creaked open revealing the multi-colored tressym, the lady of the house, Tara. She chirped in acknowledgement before hopping onto the bed, noises from outside the door got a bit louder. The smell of coffee wafted in, notes of vanilla and cinnamon hit the air.

Tara began to purr loudly, nestled in the cleave of your thighs; she nipped at the hand closest to her. “Have you taken your meds yet?” she inquired, her voice was stern and motherly.

“jus’ gonna’ now.” Your voice slurred, the sleep obvious from your voice. You groped for the pill bottle, holding the tab down and twisting off the lid. You pulled out one and a half tabs, washing them down with water. you grabbed the eyedrop bottle, filled with a tonic gale made for you, compatible for a magic eye. You laid back, dropping the liquid into your eyes and rolling it around in the socket.

Your vision opens as you rub at your eyes, adjusting to sit up in bed. You combed a hand through your hair, knots popping through your anxiety ridden strokes.

“Was your sleep alright dear? You look rather vexed.” Tara was busy grooming, but kind enough to check in with you.

You laughed softly “vexation is a constant state of my life, but I appreciate the thought. Yes, it was fine, thank you. Just distant thoughts about previous me’s.” you rubbed your eyes again, “have you seen our wonderful gale?”

She tutted, stretching out over your legs and flopping to the side “he has requested you stay in bed. But- he is busy as a bee, as always. She began to purr again, rubbing her nose against the sheets. “Consider me your roadblock from getting up.”

You sank back into the pillows staring at the swirling texture of the ceiling. It was stuck with small glow stars that never got charged. Near the head of the bed was a small planetary mobile, little bells sang out from the room’s small fan. Gale likes his white noise.

A rap at the door broke you from your thoughts. Gale’s curious eyes peered over the door, crinkling as he broke into a smile. “Good morning my star, I hadn’t realize you had woken up already.” He wore a loose crew neck shirt, embroidered with flowers at the hems, his pants a taught cotton blend- ones he would call cozy dress pants, and ones you’ve seen him fallen asleep in. his hair was tied half up half down in a spikey bun, strands of steel grey hair glowed with he light of the sun. He held a mug in his hand, one of his kitsch collections. “I got a dig bick” it read.

He set it on the nightstand, caging you in for a sweet kiss. His thumb stroked the outline of your chin mindlessly, savoring the warm way his chest tightened at your tired and happy eyes. He tasted of caramel coffee and apple slices. He pulled away from your grasp, slightly breathless.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have come checked in on you sooner. I didn’t want to disturb your sleep. You could compete for the most beautiful creature in the heavens.”

“Certainly not compete- I am the most beautiful creature.”

He chortled heartily, kissing your lips gently once more. “You don’t know how right you are, my love.” Gale absentmindedly drew patterns onto your skin, his gaze gentle, yet longing. “Rest a bit more- I have some surprises planned.” With a kiss to your brow he pulled away, your skin felt flush with warmth.

You settled into your pillows, cupping the mug gingerly. You took a few sips. Brown sugar, ¼ milk and ¾ coffee. He always noticed the small details; it was comforting on your tongue. A small sigh of delight escaped your lips. For what good you did to deserve this- you don’t exactly know. Perhaps the gods favored you somewhat to be blessed with such a partner like gale.

The humming resumed from the kitchen, a hiss and a gentle swear as you heard the oven door click shut. Then the tap ran as he sighed out. He snacked on something as he gathered dishes, a bowl set to the floor, Taras’s breakfast. She stretched against your leg’s wings flapping out, and tail flicking idly. She chirps a couple of times before hopping off the bed.

The gentle music of plates approached your door, along with your beloved wizard, tray in hand.

“ta daaah!!” he lifted the tray in a slight ‘come see’ gesture. You took another deep sip of coffee before setting the mug down.

“Gale- you really didn’t have too.” A slight pout formed on your lips, setting the mug aside you placed your hands in your lap.

“Nonsense. It gives me great joy to make your life easier.” He paused, setting the tray down on the small desk in the corner. “It frustrates me, occasionally- that you wouldn’t deem yourself worthy of that sort of love, that sort of worship.” He crawls towards you on the bed, his tossed hair and neat beard framing his chin and cheeks. “I adore you.” He gently cupped your cheek, straddling your settled legs. “Let me worship you in the way I was made too”

Selune take the wheel, how your heart fluttered at his honeyed words! You tilted your head squinting slightly, processing in a way you only knew how to. “This may seem impulsive, or the urges doing the talking but forgive me. Worship me with sinew, carrion, and pools of warm blood…?”

He chucked gently, tilting your head up slightly. “Less bloody, though it can be dependent on your moon sickness.” He was gentle and patient, only activating at your confirmation. His gaze soft on yours, deep and inviting. “Let me know, I will only do so at your words.”

His breath smelled like cinnamon and caramel, skin scented like warm patchouli and rose. He kissed the insides of your wrists, your knuckles, and tips of your fingers.

“Yes, id like that.” The words were out of your mouth before you’d known it. Warm lips met your skin, kissing his way down your arm, his lashes brushed against you with every kiss. Warm pride surged through your belly, you were his, and he was yours.

You grasped at the back of his head, pulling him into your embrace. Gales legs shifted under yours, bending at the knee to allow you to rest your legs around his waist. He braced a hand behind your head, careful about dropping his head on yours. Your lips moved sloppily, he still kissed like an awkward teen- which ultimately you found endearing. His stubble brushed against your skin. one of hands cupping your jaw, he separated slightly breathless. “Sorry, orb. It’s getting a little tight in my chest. Mind if I…take it a bit slower?”

“You needn’t apologize my love.” You ran a finger against his bottom lip, “I’m always willing to go slow. Your company is something to be savored.”

“I was hoping id be more sweet.” He giggles at his own bad joke, lips returning to yours. He hummed into the kiss, the wizard’s tongue ran over your teeth gingerly, asking for entrance. You obliged parting your mouth slightly, he tilted his face his nose brushing against yours. You ran your tongue against the ridges in his mouth, he let out a low groan his tongue retreating into his. Gale’s breath was wonderfully heated.

“You are quite delicious my dear.” He grinned shifting his weight to move about. “I would like to- taste you a bit more if that’s alright.”

“oho!” you grin twirling a piece of his hair around your finger. “Shall I be finding out about your most practiced tongue this morning?”

“The very same” he beamed, crinkles forming around his eyes, he bends down kissing the column of your neck, his teeth gently grazing and nipping at the skin. “That is- if you’d like.”

You gave him a quiet nod, a little nervous to fully admit what you’d like. His lips trailed further down over your night shirt, his hands found the edge of the hem, gingerly pulling up his eyes flickered back to you again to check in.

you nodded once more.

The blissful sting of his teeth at your sides, he favored biting you around your hips and waist, a gentlemanly move and to lay proof of claim. Bites upon the neck were simply too gouache for him. You could feel the squeeze of your walls as he kissed his way back down your sternum, lips soft as ever he was a tease. You sighed when he made his way back to your thighs planting a kiss on each of them. He adjusted so he was under the covers, the top of his head tenting the blanket. His eyes claimed yours again, a swirling of questions in his deep brown eyes. You smiled, his gaze then relaxed and lowered.

He ran his tongue on the outline of slick in your underwear, electing a low whine from you. He smiled, hooking his fingers into your rubber band and kissing your skin as it was revealed. His glasses slid down his nose, the lenses fogging up from his breath. He pulled off the garment, a groan rumbling through his chest.

“By the weave… you are absolutely stunning.” His padded fingers grazed against your cunt, sweeping the juices onto his digits. He sucked at his fingers; eyes clamped shut to savor your taste. He exhaled, lips forming a delicious pout.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia…” his voice was soft, almost bashful. “I am blessed to be continuously surprised by the joys of the mortal realm.” His hands found the side of your thighs, hair fanning in front of his face. You reached out brushing it behind his ear, carefully running a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his head. The tip of his tongue traced shallow outlines around your clit, hot velvety breath layered against your thighs. He began to kitten lick up your sex, soft sighs of delight as he tasted you. He hovered over your clit, mouth latching onto the sensitive bud, his eyes caught yours again, the corners crinkling in delight at your slightly disheveled state. Breath catching in your throat, hand on his head, and heel of your foot braced against his back. The sunlight made your skin glow, eyes dark and pupils blown. Silver hair danced along your cheeks, perhaps this is what the visage of an angel looked like.

He swirled his tongue around you, mindful of suction and teeth. Using a hand to push up his glasses, glancing up occasionally. He let go of your clit, listening to the rush of air from your lungs. He muttered an incantation under his breath.

You watched as he worked, his strong nose pushed against your clit, his thick tongue dipping into your core. His hands cupped your hips and ass like he hasn’t eaten in a week, letting out a soft groan as he rutted against the mattress. Then you felt it, a cool touch on your inner thigh as he came up to breathe. His beard was stained with you, a signal to your arousal. You shivered under his gaze; the cool grasp felt wonderful against your puffy clit. It trailed down to your folds, gently prodding at your entrance. You groaned at the intrusion, cool invisible digits spearing your insides.

“Mage hand” the prodigy hummed, kissing the sides of your chin, fingers idly rubbing shapes into your clit. You groaned into his mouth as he peppered kisses onto your lips, his hands left your clit to pull off his shirt and pants, an obvious tent present in his boxers. He took off his glasses and untied his bun, his hair falling against his shoulders. It had gotten a bit longer, just dusting over his shoulders. Your lashes fluttered as the digits curled inside of you, stretching you gently.

“You are a work of art, my love.” He palmed his crotch, fingertips tracing against the swell of your breast. The hand works in tandem with his; slow tantalizing pumps against your inner walls. You squeezed down against the phantom feeling, the wizard sighing with delight. He kissed down your skin again, mouth back against your clit working to free you of the taught knot in the base of your stomach. One hand balanced on your hip the other under his waistband tugging at his shaft. Gasps escaped your lips, as you melted into his hands. He seemed smug and utterly pleased when his eyes met yours again.

The stimulation against your walls faded, a whine ripping though your lips. He gently shushed you, crawling back up your body, kissing every freckle or mole he came across.

“Now, my love, are you ready for me?” his words ached in the right places, dripping with arousal and tinged with need. He clumsily slid out of his boxers, tossing them somewhere in the room. His body has softened from time sat still, less definition from his college days and a soft slope of a belly coated in a fuzzy happy trail. He was slim- certainly, but he wasn’t fit either- Being cared for has that effect on people. You slid a hand down his hip, squeezing his muscular thigh on its way down back to your side. His hips canted slightly under your light touch, biting his inner cheek. “Oh, the things you do to me, my star, my precious little love.” His words flushed as pink as his cheeks.

“I’m so glad only I get to view you like this, your beauty- in the most natural state- forgive me a moment- I must- “he let out a shuddering exhale, catching his breath. “Ah. Can’t speak much when focus goes somewhere else” his eyes were apologetic.

“Would you prefer…being on bottom?” your concern evident from your voice.

“That would be wise.” He shifted to the center of the bed amongst the clouds of pillows, his hair settling haphazardly as its own halo.

You ran a hand down his chest, admiring your lovers’ body. Your hand cupped his hip as you clambered over him. His knees knocking together as you used them as leverage onto him. Gently you tested him against your entrance, beads of pre-cum welling from his slit. Every muscle of the man beneath you tensed in anticipation. Your hips shook slightly at the awkwardness of the position, head of his member broaching your folds. The insides of you felt plush and velveteen, as you took him inside of you, the most pathetic sound ripped its way from your throat, hanging in the air. Your toes twitched, a sigh shared in tandem at the hilt, one hand over his quick heart.

The outlines of the dark round tattoo glowed faintly, he spasmed underneath you, thighs tensing and untensing. This felt sweeter than any sex before it, each time you burned anew for him. Each ridge upon him your body memorized, cream and pink his skin ran. You kissed his adams apple as it bobbed, his breath ragged from adjusting. He screwed his eyes shut; face crinkled like crepe paper. You cupped his chest, testing a roll. It stung beautifully against your walls; warmth flooded your sides as you clenched down on him. His hands found your sides, pinching and cupping your ass, gentle to assist your bounces. He exhaled again muttering several incantations, cool slow buzzing ran over your clit.

“Oh, my love- how immaculate you look- “he sighed pushing up onto his toes, cementing you further onto him. His thighs wobbled as he speared you, aching to get every inch of himself into you. The head of his cock pulsed against your cervix, finding spongy spots within you. Your brain bubbled, cheeks flushed and radiating heat, a slight ring to your ears.

He stared at you with eyes you could never get tired of, pools of honey browns devouring your figure. Every flash of your image- ingrained into his memory.

He pulled you onto him, lips too quick to clamp down on yours. Your breath vanished between his teeth, nipping at your lower lips. His thrusts were desperate, earning a few moans from your lips. He captured them in return, his lips greedy for your sound. Your legs wormed around his, toe to toe. He set a bruising pace; his tip gently nestled against your cervix. You clamped and fluttered around him, cupping his chin and hand clamped in his hair.

He gasped for air, lips bruised “bhaal below- I can feel you- “he bit his lip, “gods your so close- so close and so good to me.” His hips pulsed erratically, tips of his toes sliding against the mussed sheets. “Beautiful- my star you are excellent-!”

No words fell from your mouth, just a coagulation of sighs running from your throat. Your core felt ironclad and taught, your cup overflowed with him around. The base of your hips ached from the muscle usage. His warm hand settled on your hips, his dulled nails digging into your plush flesh.

“Your so close- my darling, my love- “his words slurred, head tilted back to gulp back air. “Gods- come for me my star- I need you so bad-!” his voice slightly broke. Your mouth found the base of his throat clamping and sucking at his favorite spot. Quickly, he shoved you down as you crumbled into him, noses pressed together. Waves of heat pulsed through your core, sending his spent seed into you. He twitched and pulsed as he pulled you close, his chest gently glowing purple.

And then there was silence, blessed waves of relief as the shocks ran through your body. He deflated, sweat sticking to his forehead, curling the baby hairs around his scalp. You ached. Again, he was the first to stir a hand gently combing through your scalp. A gentle laugh erupting from his chest.

“Well, my dear- you are a gift that keeps on giving.” He hummed, closing his eyes. “I am spent- I don’t think id like to move for the rest of the day- I mean, if you’d like to, that would be our plan for today.”

You hummed in response, shifting your hips. “We forgot a towel.”

“No need to fret my dear…” he reached towards a drawer in his nightstand, pulling out a rag. “Always prepared.”

He helped you up, a whine ripping through your chest at the removal. Settling you back onto his chest, the rag settled comfortably between your thighs. He ran his hands up and down your back, tracing the dimples of your thighs, each ridge of bone and settled muscle. He stretched, reaching for his kindle on the bedside. Bracing an arm on your back. His skin smelt like lilies, soft and smooth under you. You listened to his dull heartbeat, peacefully drifting off in his arms.

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everybodyloveshippos · 1 year ago

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Hey^^

I saw the post in Artemis gives Jarlaxle a perfume and I didn't want to spam it but

I have a quite refined scent-memory and always associate certain scents to fictional characters too. It may be funny but I imagined the exact scents of Jarlaxle, Kimmuriel, Rai'gy, Artemis and almost all of them and I literally can smell it while reading about them/drawing them.

I wonder what scents/type of perfume you associate to certain drow (and Artemis) if you do any.

That's really cool! i'm not super great at identifying scents but i do like perfume. I wish i would say like 'he smells like sandalwood' or something but im not rlly 100 on what that smells like tbh. i will do my best. so i'd love to hear what you imagine.

I'd have to mull over the rest but for jarlaxle i imagine he wears perfume but something uncommon, not floral, something very unique. (hence the idea for the comic of artemis giving him some) in session we decided that he wears expensive perfume, smells of the sea, a bit like gunpowder, something unidentifiable, and some kind of oil (my dm mentioned this). before that he probably wore some kind of unique underdark perfume. jarlaxle's need to differentiate himself extends to this too.

as for artemis I dont think he would ever wear perfume as it would have the potential to give away his presence on a job when he worked as an assassin. however im sure he's good at identifying the smell of various ones for the same reason.

kimmuriel i think would find any surface perfume sort of cloying and distracting, and would find no need to wear it himself. I don't think he minds when someone like rai'gy wears something more familiar though. I imagine wizards (well, he's a priest but still) have interesting scents due to all their spell components. I think rai-gy's preference towards fire means he always smells sliiiightly like matches.

idk!! i wish i could identify scents a little better tbh :)

#asks #legend of drizzt

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magua-vida · 10 months ago

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Oh, I've seen those posts being against romantic Astarion (even though he does have a lot of romantic moments in the game).

Here, have some pics of him being romantic:

I also saw people snarkily say his definition of romance is sleeping with you on top of his grave, but they missed the part when he pours his feelings out and confesses how he's been faring. Also, idk if they ever know what "lovemaking" means or ever experienced it, but sexual intimacy can be romantic too, you know? I forgot to mention that a vampire confessing his love to you on top of his grave is very Mary Shelley.

Yeah, he says he hates flowers, but this is said by a gaudy fop who likes making his own perfume and embroidery. He also likes drow aesthetics. He assumed at first that being a "better person" just means "petting bunnies" and stuff like that, but post-Cazador, he realizes that he likes and does sappy things too. Even if he still hates flowers by the end, he's still the type to say that it's cute of you to lay a symbolic flower in front of his tombstone.

There are other moments that I didn't include, but not without going through another round of digging and screenshotting. Idk, maybe go reblog w/ your own screenshots of Astarion being romantic. A lot of it is very sweet and touching.

“Change”

I am so much more than what you made me. — Astarion

Long post in coming…

Initially started this with the feeling of spite because some fools on Twitter said he can’t be romantic and proceeded to dog pile on someone’s harmless headcanon of Astarion giving Tav a bouquet, saying that it’s better suited for Wyll.

But along the way, I started processing my own feelings and why I fell for Astarion in the first place. He was relatable for me as a survivor and as such, it’s incredibly limiting to be labeled as “you can’t be this or that”. We are capable of being romantic. We can also be mean and sarcastic and sassy. But we are all also capable of growth and change.

And Wyll is a fantastic character. If Astarion gives you a bouquet, Wyll Ravengard will take you to a field of flowers on top of a hill while serenading you. There’s no need to pit them against each other by shoving one trait to another. It’s not an erasure of Wyll’s charms and personality and neither is it racist (bc they’re accusing others of putting a black guy’s trait to a white guy like,,, that’s too much of a reach but ok)

And the real Wyll Ravengard wouldn’t even hesitate to help Astarion buy a bouquet for Tav. He’d be so excited and he’d give tips and tricks to Astarion about setting up romantic dates. He’s just that much of a nice guy and I’d love to see more of their friendship.

#is it still spoilers at this time?#spoilers?#baldur’s gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunín

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ambrosialwitch · 2 years ago

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Hey!

I might delete or update this later, but as I've reblogged a lot of content from my old account by now and feel I've imported the kind of aesthetic I want for this one, I thought I'd briefly introduce myself to peeps in the relevant tags.

So, hi, I'm Aelia! 💕

I'm

a millennial in her 30s

using she/her pronouns

living with my wife, our cats and 6 cockatiels

a witch

a hellenist/follower of hellenismos/hellenic polytheist

healing

My main focus in hellenism is definitely Aphrodite, and she also heavily influences my life as a whole. Additionally I worship Hermes and Hades "a bit more" than the other Gods. However, I do worship and pray to (more or less) all the Gods, actively mostly to the Olympians and a few minor deities; for some that includes more elaborate rituals or crafting offerings, for others it might only be devoting a small and short activity to them.

Concerning witchcraft, I mostly do spells to help with feeling good, whatever form that might take. I like glamour magic a lot, but workings for feeling more calm/peaceful/pretty/balanced/strong/lively/andwhatnot are up there, too. My specialty are probably deity candles and ritual oils, as well as perfumes and basically anything that has to do with fragrance.

Aside from that, there'll also be other things on the blog, including but not limited to

photography, mostly aesthetic nature photos, flowers, the sea and rain, and cozy or bright inside photos, especially with beds and baths

occasionally fandom-related content, mainly les misérables, star trek and community

animal content

food & especially coffee photography

art

words - which contains poetry and beautiful text posts, book quotes, aphorisms etc.

things I consider funny. Please bear with me, I like puns. A lot.

funny or comforting things I expect to be helpful for me on bad days

occasionally mental health stuff, feminism, lgbtqia, environmental issues etc.

posts I relate to or feel represented by (I tag them as same and/or spencer if you're curious)

Because I'm used to it from older blogs, I tag

food or food //

underwater and drowing

smoking //

alcohol //

mental illness (usually in posts tagged with mental health as well)

insects

and I will always tag sensitive topics like child abuse, se*ual assault, r*pe, animal abuse and so on with the respective uncensored word

as potential triggers. If you need me to tag anything for you, don't hesitate to tell me!

If you're still reading, thanks a lot! In case you want to do me a favor, please tag clowns for me.

And I think that's it for now?? If you have any questions, feel free to send asks ♥

#introductory post #witchblr #hellenic polytheism #hellenism #hellenismos #witchcraft #hellenic witch #hellenic polytheist #hellenist #witch community #witch life #meet the witch #personal #personal post #introduction #intro post #blog intro

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vahnity · 3 years ago

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* 𝐄𝐌𝐌𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 .

is that EMMA VANITY stepping out into diagon alley? ministry records tell us that they were born on AUGUST 12 and are a TWENTY-FOUR year old, PUREBLOOD who works as a CAPTAIN & CHASER FOR THE MONTROSE MAGPIES. some have said that they can be described as being CLEVER, CAPTIVATING & TENACIOUS, however, they also see themselves as being DEBAUCHED, SELF-SERVING & GUARDED. apparently, SHE look(s) a lot like BRUNA MARQUEZINE, whoever that is, and if they had to pick a side in the war, they would choose to REMAIN NEUTRAL.

hi besties ! i’m mar , she / they prns , and i’m so excited to be here <3

before you read , please be aware that this intro includes trigger warnings for / mentions of : trauma , misogyny , substance ( ab ) use , mental & physical parental abuse , torture.

𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑺.

full name : emmanuelle victoria vanity.

name origin : emma’s name was anglicized alongside the rest of her family when they moved to the united kingdom. “emmanuelle” — god is with you, “victoria” — latin word for victory.

nickname(s) : em, ems, emmie ( she will bite you ).

birthdate : august 12th, making her a leo sun & scorpio moon.

gender & pronouns : identifies as a cis woman and uses she/her.

sexuality : bisexual, demiromantic.

positives : clever, captivating, tenacious.

neutrals : capricious, ambitious, opportunistic.

negatives : debauched, self-serving, guarded.

education : hogwarts, slytherin house.

occupation : captain & chaser for the montrose magpies, socialite.

current residence : her parental estate & an apartment in london.

𝑨𝑭𝑭𝑰𝑳𝑰𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.

mother : daphne vanity ( anglicized ).

father : joseph vanity ( anglicized ).

siblings : none, though not for lack of trying.

family : the ancient & splendid house of vanity ( formerly vanità ).

extended family : possible cousins, tba.

relationship status : possibly betrothed, tba. currently single.

allegiance : currently neutral, facing pressure to join the death eaters.

𝑴𝑨𝑮𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑭𝑰𝑳𝑬.

patronus : the cheetah, though emma’s managed casting it only once.

boggart : herself, in a pair of shackes & looking like a stepford wife — symbolizing being trapped in a life of her parents design.

wand type : cherry wood, dragon heartstring core, 11 1/2″, slightly flexible.

amortentia : the smells of broomwax, cinnamon-spiced firewhiskey & expensive perfume have the biggest presence, but a hint of petrichor can be noted too.

𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀.

raised in opulence & splendor, emma vanity has always had a seemingly perfect life. a notoriously old money family, the vanity’s made an ambitious move from their home country brazil to the united kingdom, only a few months after emma’s birth. they blended in with pureblood society quite well, despite their newcomer status, but a perfectly pure lineage & obscene amounts of wealth will do that for you. to emma, things have always come easy — that’s what the world seems to think, at least. a pretty face, a large collection of friends, and even a quidditch career waiting for her. but pictures can be deceiving. aside from being old money, the vanity’s were also old guard — which meant traditional views regarding pureblood supremacy, and most importantly for emma, the role a woman should play. the only child in a family desperate for more, emma committed the terrible crime of not being born a male heir, something that dictated her parents treatment of her entire life. she was to be seen, not heard. she would not speak back. she would behave herself perfectly at any given time, all so she could catch the perfect husband and live her happily ever after.

once she reached hogwarts age, emma realized the world was not all her parents had made it out to be. there were more options than what she’d been taught, and like a kid in a candystore, she wanted to try them all. even at such a young age, emma fell into a problematic pattern that included constant rebellious behavior, and later on, straight up debauchery. she still knew how to behave herself, she was raised by etiquette - focused parents, after all, but she craved fun & adventure like nothing else. to her surprise, her parents turned a blind eye for multiple years — and emma started to think maybe, just maybe, she had a shot. quidditch quickly became her greatest passion, bringing home the cup for slytherin at least four times whilst she was captain of the team. she was a hellkite on the pitch, and a riot off it as well. she lacked care for what her parents or other authority figures wanted, whatever she wanted, that was what mattered now.

of course all good things must come to an end, and emma’s was quite abrupt. she refers to it as “ the intervention ” whenever explaining her changes in character, but it was much less soft than that. being subject to her parents mental & physical abuse for weeks on end, locked in her rooms, they broke her down bit by bit, and then offered her a chance to get back up. as the only child, she was the heir now, and as the heir, she had to represent their family with the pureblood community, and if the option arose, the dark lord. emma could keep her life. most of it, apart from the bits they disliked too much. she could even play quidditch, as long as she quit after they found her a suitable husband. but she would have to work hard & become a valuable piece of her family in return. the vanity’s wanted to be on top of the wizarding world, and emma — pretty faced, popular, but also tough & filled with grit, would be their tool. desperate for escape, she took the deal, and has been walking a terrifying tightrope ever since. not one for pureblood supremacy, or true cruelty for that matter, she’s found herself surrounded by friends from her family’s circles, all intent on ridding the world of “ tainted blood ”. she’s pushed her opinions down, silenced her feelings, and moved on. her leash is tight, but she has to learn & live with it, because if she doesn’t, the consequences for her could be much, much worse.

𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑫.

fair weather friends : emma is, simply said, fun to be around. she’s fairly well - known due to her quidditch career, but is also massively social — in the most superficial way, that is. i assume she likely has a lot of friends who know her well enough to call her that, but not enough to know what goes on underneath the surface.

drinking / party buddies : it started with a young girl who’d never been allowed to indulge rebelling against her parents through alcohol, parties, and sex. while that is still part of her, emma’s indulgence has been more focussed on drowing out the trauma lately — though the people she indulges with likely don’t know any better.

ex-lover / relationship, currently antagonistic : emma’s focus on what her parents would call the “right” kind of people used to be something she cared less about, but since her intervention, she’s been more secretive if someone she hangs out with wouldn’t be approved of by her family. this person would likely be either not a pureblood or considered a current blood traitor, and their relationship was likely blown up by emma post-intervention, leaving them both with hurt feelings.

partner-in-crime / mentor : since her parents would like her to fall more in line with those supporting the death eaters, this person came into her life & became a permanent fixture. they likely teach her in more dark arts and are possibly even working to recruit her into the actual death eaters.

other : rivals, betrothed, lovers, co-workers, former friends, first loves, frenemies, work-out partners, ex-somethings, childhood friends, neighbors ( apartment in knightsbridge, london ), friends with benefits, secret friendships, ( distant ) cousins.

#* ╱ 𝐄 . 𝐕 . : 𝚁𝙴 › introspection.#/ idk if theres an intro tag somewhere i think i missed it #/ also if anyone has issues with double space txt pls let me know #/ it helps me read personally #/ but i know other people with visual impairments have the exact opposite problem with it rip

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artemis-entreri · 6 years ago

Text

Sellswords Self-Care, Part 2 (complete version)

[[ So Tumblr ate a big chunk from my post last night. :’C I’ve deleted the original post. This should be the correct version of the story, assuming Tumblr behaves this time. ]]

"You reek!" said Jarlaxle, crinkling his nose and adopting an exaggerated expression of disgust.

"I do not." replied Artemis Entreri, standing (though it scarcely seemed possible) a tiny measure straighter than he already was.

"Perhaps you've been mired in your own filth for so long that you can no longer smell yourself."

"More likely that you douse yourself with so much perfume that you can't stand breathing in anything not similarly slathered."

Despite his complaints, the assassin allowed the mercenary to lead him down the busy city street. Jarlaxle was wearing his ridiculous human disguise again, and Entreri scowled at the dark, wavy strands that bounced against his companion's back.

At least he's decently clad, Entreri thought to himself, and winced as his mind inevitably painted for him the selfsame scenario, but with Jarlaxle wearing only bandoliers and smallclothes again. The assassin suppressed a shudder and reflexively surveyed their surroundings, but found none of the pairs of eyes glued upon them from his imagined scenario.

Indeed, the citizens of Waterdeep were all busy tending to their own affairs. Merchants issued their final offers of unbelievable deals, couples hurried their children home, and street-lighters rushed from pole to pole. None spared more than a passing glance at the pair of "humans", even with the distinct scalawag appearance of the one in the lead. However, the handsome man was too finely-dressed and well-groomed for the self-respecting citizens to decry him as a pirate, and his companion was so nondescript that there was hardly any point to sparing the latter any attention.

Nonetheless, Jarlaxle tipped his fabulous hat each time a wandering pair of eyes met his own, and by the time that they'd reached the bathhouse, Entreri had lost count of how many times the feather had bobbed on his companion's head.

"I strongly wish not to do this," the assassin grumbled as the mercenary opened the door to the establishment and stepped inside.

"Fear not, my abbil, I shall be with you every heartbeat." Jarlaxle beamed as he held the door open.

"That's precisely why I fear." Entreri stepped past the threshold to find himself in a large antechamber. A large, empty antechamber. "Wait, where is everyone?"

"Everyone?" Jarlaxle quirked an eyebrow.

Entreri's brow furrowed as he looked around. The establishment was respectable, and he didn't dislike it, but because of its well-earned reputation, it was never without patrons, even in the early (or very late) hours of each day.

Yet, all the baskets that would normally hold the possessions of the patrons were empty and stood in neatly-stacked piles. All the towels were clean and similarly stacked, with not a single one discarded in the laundry hamper.

The assassin covered his face with one hand. "You've bought the place?'

Jarlaxle's laughter lifted Entreri's eyes from underneath his fingers. "Of course not, my abbil! I am not that much of a spendthrift, nor am I imprudent enough to attract unwanted attention, given what I'm trying to accomplish in this city."

"Why is it so empty, then?"

"I rented it for the night!"

"I see. Yes, very frugal of you."

Barely had the quip left Entreri's lips did the assassin realize that the seeming spontaneity that led Jarlaxle to drag him out was actually yet another one of the drow's machinations. Entreri’s arm dropped back to his side, his chin snapping against his chest as his head hung in defeat. "You'd been planning this all along."

"But of course, my abbil! After all, are you not the one who does not believe in coincidence?"

"With you, there is never coincidence," Entreri intoned sarcastically.

Jarlaxle dipped into a quarter-bow. "You do flatter me so."

The assassin snatched the hat from atop Jarlaxle's lowered head and stalked to one of the doors leading to the next room. The transformed drow's skin instantly reverted to its usual ebony, the dark locks disappearing and the ridiculous mustache disintegrated from view just in time for him to catch the hat that the human tossed back at him. He set it upon his head again, but his appearance didn't change.

"Let's just get this over with," Entreri said as he entered the steamy main area, instantly regretting his words as he did. Floral scents saturated the thick air, but amidst the countless exotic notes was the distinct scent of lavender.

The assassin reflexively began to backpedal, but his progress was impeded by a pair of delicate yet strong hands set against his back.

"No." The assassin's tone was firm, but it wasn't steel in his eyes when they gazed back at the mercenary. Jarlaxle resisted a chuckle and willed away the recollection of a girl he'd seen attempting to bathe her cat. His eyes had met with the feline's, and the resemblance between what he'd witnessed then and what he saw now was too striking to not remember.

"Don't be so stubborn," the drow chided as he pushed against his companion's back. Despite Entreri's best efforts to dig his heels in, the smooth floor was slick with moisture, and the human could find no purchase.

"You will not release me unless I submit to your ridiculous request?" The assassin was trying to back-step now, to no avail. It hardly surprised him that Jarlaxle's boots locked against the floor while his did not.

"I will not." The mercenary finally stopped pushing, for they were but a few feet away from the largest basin in the room. Entreri felt the drow's arms encircle his neck before he saw the ebony digits work at his cloak clasp.

The assassin slapped the delicate fingers away. "I can undress myself."

Jarlaxle touched his slapped hand to his heart and feigned a hurt look. "You do wound me so!"

Entreri snorted as he shed his cloak. "If a gentle blow so wounded you, perhaps you should rethink all of your ambitions and how frequently they put you -- put us -- in harm's way."

"Ah, but I simply wished to pamper you a little!"

"Jarlaxle does not 'pamper' anyone but himself, not without costs too high for my appetite," Entreri retorted with a mirthless chuckle. He kicked one boot off, then another, both shoes landing sequentially next to his cloak. His shirt followed, then his trousers, the last to land on the pile his weapons belt, both blades falling upon the makeshift cushion with naught but a soft "fumph".

The mercenary shrugged, turned to retrieve two baskets, then pulled the assassin's shed attire into one of them. His naked companion was kneeling by the side of the largest basin, a palmful of water held up to his nose. The ruffling of cloth drew Entreri's attention, and when he glanced behind himself, he was surprised to see Jarlaxle disrobing as well.

"What are you doing?" Entreri scowled.

"Undressing," Jarlaxle answered without pause.

"I can see that!"

Jarlaxle halted. The corners of his lips turned up impishly. "If you're going to watch, I could make it more interesting for you."

Entreri's head snapped forward, but not before allowing the drow to see a roll of his dark eyes. Entreri then focused his attention on lowering himself into the hot water, resisting the urge to plunge himself in over his head so that he didn't have to listen to his companion's musical laughter.

By the time that the assassin had fully immersed himself, the soothing hot water already chased the flamboyant mercenary's antics from his mind. Entreri hadn't realized how tense his muscles were until each fiber relaxed, the heat permeating his body and lifting the strain away. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the edge of the basin, his throat as bared as his any of his victims' when he'd tugged their head back by the hair to press his dagger in. Yet, right then, Entreri didn't feel vulnerable so baring himself, and he lifted both arms onto the edge as well, so that his body could float within the calming water. He lingered there for he knew not how many heartbeats.

A sudden abrasion against his forearm snapped the assassin’s eyes open, and he withdrew his arm with a mighty push away from the edge. From the center of the pool, Entreri glared at the mercenary with narrowed eyes, one hand rubbing the abraded forearm. Jarlaxle was kneeling on one knee, a porous object held in his hands. Although he pouted, merriment danced in his ruby eyes.

"What is that?" Entreri demanded, still rubbing his assaulted forearm.

Jarlaxle blinked and tilted his head. "This?" He held up the porous object.

"Yes."

"A luffa."

It was Entreri's turn to blink. "Is that not the name for a vegetable from the far east?"

Jarlaxle nodded. "Aye, this is one and the same."

Entreri held his forearm closer and squinted. "Why were you rubbing me with a vegetable?"

Jarlaxle chuckled and set the porous object down. He pulled a basket from around behind him, from which protruded other porous items, but these were items that Entreri recognized. Corals, lava stones, and other bathing implements that he'd seen in the Pashas' palaces.

"I imagine that you're more familiar with these," Jarlaxle explained as he lifted a piece of coral, "But I've never been fond of them. Too coarse, suitable for a woodworker to rough-finish a beam perhaps? Hardly appropriate for cleansing skin!"

"It was good enough for Pashas and nobles."

"I am not a Pasha, nor am I a human noble. You are neither as well." The drow gestured at his companion to return to the edge. "Come. You'll like it, I promise."

"When you put it that way, it makes me even more uneasy," Entreri grumbled as he dubiously waded toward his companion. Upon reaching the mercenary's toes, the assassin was instantly filled with regret, for the drow, kneeling as he was at the edge, towered over the human from the elevation granted to him by his perch. As Entreri met his companion's eyes, his circumspection took in more details than he'd intended, and he wasn't able to stop himself from observing that Jarlaxle's skin was smoother and silkier than that of any of his former lovers.

And then, there were those ruby eyes. Deeper than blood, warmer than melted wax, more tantalizing than the richest velvet... the assassin felt lightheaded, and wondered if craning his neck back to look only at his companion's face was restricting the flow of blood through the rest of his body. Or, perhaps it was the blackness of the drow's skin, juxtaposing strongly against the light suffusing the room, causing his eyes to strain.

"I'm getting out, it's too hot," Entreri decided aloud, and pushed himself up onto the landing next to his companion. He started heading for a stack of towels, but a dry hand on his arm stopped him.

"Not yet," Jarlaxle bade.

"'Yet'?" Entreri echoed.

Jarlaxle nodded, smiling with an innocence that Entreri couldn't help but wonder if it was false.

"What now?" Entreri asked, worn and exasperated.

"Sit," Jarlaxle instructed, pointing at the floor.

Entreri raised an eyebrow.

"Or you could stand, although that would make it more difficult for me."

"That makes me more inclined to stand."

"Oh, do sit, my abbil. The quicker you do, the quicker we can be done with this."

Entreri lowered himself and crossed his legs. "What are you going to do?"

"Pamper you, of course!"

Entreri snorted. However, he only looked on curiously as Jarlaxle lifted the same arm that he'd been working on before, and began rubbing it with the luffa. Entreri wasn't surprised to see suds rise with each stroke, and although the friction made him want to retract his arm, the disciplined human held still, repeating Jarlaxle's promise to be done with it all as a calming mantra.

By the time that the mercenary had finished with the other arm, and was applying the vegetable to his back, Entreri was relaxed again. He didn't want to admit it, but the drow's ministrations felt good. Furthermore, his soak in the hot water allowed the scrubbing to lift the dirt, oils and dead skin that he knew had accumulated in his negligence, and the thorough cleansing made him feel almost as though he were being born anew. His tight-fitted leathers had begun to feel more than a little uncomfortable, just on the cusp of threatening to distract his perfect focus, but after this treatment, Entreri suspected that he wouldn't need to worry about the possibility of such a distraction for some time.

A bucketful of water suddenly emptied over the assassin's head. It shocked him, but Entreri didn't grouse. The water was drawn from the basin next to them, and Entreri could guess readily enough why Jarlaxle was pouring bucketfuls of water over him. Even had he not, the return of his companion's attention to his back fully explained the situation.

"How did you think of using a vegetable as a bathing implement, Jarlaxle?" Entreri murmured, the softness of his voice surprising himself.

"I learned it from another," the drow cooed, "One of the people who also employed it in delectable dishes. Versatile, is it not?"

Entreri chuckled. "I know how much you enjoy versatile things."

All that the assassin received in response was a soft push on his back. He understood his companion's meaning, and scooted to the edge of the pool. It took some time to lower himself in again, for despite the steamy air, he'd cooled, and had to readjust to the perpetual heat.

Finally managing to re-submerge himself, Entreri lifted both arms onto the edge and began to tilt his head back to re-assume his earlier floating repose. He was surprised when the back of his head met with something higher than he'd expected, a soft something that wasn't the hard floor. The surprised man opened his eyes, only to find the ruby gaze capturing his own. He instantly understood from the way that his companion hovered over him, as well as the smooth incline pillowing his head, that Jarlaxle now knelt with both knees, and sat back upon his heels.

"Jarlaxle..." Entreri began, but a soft "shhh" quieted him. One elegant ebony hand swept over the assassin's eyes, and Entreri obediently closed his eyelids. His lips parted when he felt ten delicate digits press lightly against his scalp, but their soothing massage stole the surprised utterances from his mouth. Jarlaxle's fingers worked in unison, deftly stroking, kneading, and -- Entreri realized -- scrubbing, as he felt foam grow out from underneath his companion's digits.

The assassin's eyes fluttered, and he might've been embarrassed for it, if not for the last of the strain departing his body. He knew not for how long Jarlaxle worked at his scalp, but a regretful tinge pricked his chest when he felt his companion's fingers disengage from his short locks, which they'd pushed into disordered spikes. Feeling the foam beginning to spill over his forehead, Entreri moved to swipe it away before it got to his eyes, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. The hand then moved to tug on his bicep, and Entreri compliantly lifted himself out of the pool. The suds had now drifted over his eyes, forcing the assassin to keep them closed, but Jarlaxle's hand was still on his arm, and he trusted in his own careful footing.

The assassin allowed himself to be led away from the main pool to where he guessed was one of the auxiliary pools. The scent of lavender was stronger here, but he paid it no mind, figuring it to be an effect of the concentration of smells in the edges of the room. Entreri was surprised to hear the splash as, he guessed, Jarlaxle entered the basin. He crouched, then sat, dipping his legs into the pool, and felt the drow take his hands. He allowed himself to be pulled in, for the heat of this pool was similar to that of his body. However, as he slipped in, his feet didn't immediately touch the bottom, and a momentary panic seized him as his head dipped below the surface. Entreri shoved Jarlaxle away as he beat his arms to bring his face to the air, and when he opened his eyes, again, they were again captured by his companion's ruby gaze, which was regarding him curiously.

"I did not know that you feared water," Jarlaxle quipped.

"I was surprised," Entreri admitted before realizing the words had escaped him, and his face heated, but not from the water.

Jarlaxle simply smiled, and caught a wooden bowl floating nearby. Entreri paddled quietly while Jarlaxle lifted scoop after scoop of water to rinse the last of the suds from his hair.

His task completed, the mercenary leaned back and allowed himself to float away like a leaf on a quiet pond. Entreri regarded the drow curiously.

"What are you doing now?"

"Replenishing my scent."

"Replenishing your scent," Entreri repeated quietly to himself. "Replenishing..."

The assassin's eyes grew wide. He sniffed at the water, but he couldn't discern whether the concentration of lavender originated from it, or hung in the air. Turning swiftly, Entreri kicked at the water fiercely until he was at the edge, then lifted himself out with a single swift heave. His expression filled with dismay as he sniffed his forearm, shook it off, then sniffed it again.

"You'd planned this all along!" Entreri shouted at the languidly floating figure.

"Perhaps," the muffled voice responded.

Shaking his head with disbelief, the assassin stalked to the main pool.

"Don't do it, you'll regret it," sing-songed the voice from across the room.

Entreri plunged his entire body into the hot water.

"I told you that you'd regret it. There's good reason for cooling baths, especially as autumn draws to a close," Jarlaxle chided as he pulled the warm wet cloth from Entreri's forehead and replaced it with another one that he'd just wrung the water from. The mercenary straightened his companion's covers, and not for the first time, for the shivering man kept bunching it up around his smallish form.

"Shut up," was all the assassin could manage from between his chattering teeth.

[[ I was apparently more tired than I thought I was when I posted this, to have completely missed that they went from fully clothed to naked without the in-between, when I’d written out the in-between. =_= Hopefully it all hangs together better now.

This is a companion piece to both the unnamed Sellsword Self-Care Part 1 and The Color Between the Lines. The plot of Waterdeep: Dragon Heist takes place 5 years after Timeless, and, if I’m being serious, I don’t see this level of comfort between Artemis and Jarlaxle in the current novel timeline, but I think it’s definitely plausible to get there in 5 years.

Otherwise, it’s just some warm, intimate, soft and whimsical Sellswords shenanigans. o: ]]

#Artemis Entreri #Jarlaxle #Entreri #Jarlaxle Baenre #Forgotten Realms #legend of drizzt #Waterdeep: Dragon Heist #Jartemis #fanfiction #self-care

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