#fic: nepenthe

[thepaintedlady00]

Nepenthe

Character Intro | Chapter 2

Chapter One: The Hanged Man

TW: blood, gore, some very intrusive and vividly dark thoughts about murder killing and so on, this ones gonna be a dark fic so if that's not something you're into steer clear y'all! But, all in all, first chapters pretty tame for the Dark Urge character. I'm going with a Durge that slightly differs from game Durge as she always has a hesitancy to killing and actively "fights" her dark urges from the start which isn't how I feel the in-game character was potrayed, but it's how I wanna do this series so 🤷‍♀️, I also really wanna let everyone know I'll be taking some creative liberties with the story and I'll be making the villains a bit more "redeemable" (mostly Gortash) they'll all still be the villains and they'll still do the evil shit but with Gortash in particular I wanna add some hints of regret and remorse for his wrong doings so I can give the asshole a happy ending! Because I am a whore for redemption arcs and happy endings! 😅😂

nepenthe • \nuh-PENTH-ee\ • noun. 1: a potion used by the ancients to induce forgetfulness of pain or sorrow; 2: something capable of causing oblivion of grief or suffering.

I had been called many names. Thief. Urchin. Whore. Murderer. Assassin. Monster. Demon. They all held some modicum of truth; after all, how else was one such as myself supposed to live? I bore no family name and held no lands or titles. All I had was a dagger and the blood on my hands. All I had to guide my path… To help me understand who… What I was was but an ember. A word whispered on hushed, fearful tongues.

Bhaalspawn.

It was a myth. Some horror story told by parents to keep their children in line. I knew there could be no truth in it… knew there could be no chance of it being a reality. I'd hunted down every piece of evidence I could over the years, and all of it told the same story. The spawn of Bhaal were long dead - all of them.

I could not be this. And yet the word echoed in me, rattling against my skull almost as loudly as the call for blood. And so, I continued hunting this rumor to the ends of Faerun. Hunting and hoping and killing and running. It was a hideous, pathetic life, but it was all I had. All I'd ever have if I stopped searching now.

Most would find the prospect of being some murderous creature horrifying. Most would have stopped searching when it became possible, but they didn't have this hunger. They didn't feel their skull burning, their whole being screaming for blood. They weren't like me.

From my rooftop perch above the city, I watched the people live their boring little lives. The marketplace was full of bodies, bags of flesh and bones and blood, hurrying and shouting and laughing without a care in the world. Sheep. A pen of them, mindlessly baaing to one another, completely unaware of the wolf lurking above them.

How I longed to leap down from that roof, to slither in what shadows I could find and circle them. My mouth went dry as my heart began to race in my chest. All sound faded, replaced by the symphony of rushing blood and beating hearts. I'd pick the one furthest from the group, the blacksmith. He smelt of salt and metal, a large man with a round belly that was practically begging to be sliced open. The edges of my vision darkened as I stared into the forge. He looked strong, but he'd be slow - much slower than he'd need to be to kill me before I did him. It would be easy.

My body drifted forward, leaning over the ledge of the rooftop. Every inch of me hummed as my fingers wrapped around the hilt of my dagger. So easy… Giggling children broke me from the dark fog. They ran through the streets together, playing whatever games normal little children play, as their families watched with a bright look. I'd studied that look often, how they smiled and their faces creased with joy. It was a look I had never known.

I remembered then the simple house with the green door. I remembered how it looked splattered with their blood - blood that oozed between the floorboards and dripped down the steps. The humming of bloodlust ebbed inside me as I pictured the bodies that littered the cobbled path to the house. Their eyes were dull and lifeless, not a spark of that bright thing… Not a spark of anything. The last one still breathing had crawled back inside, not strong enough to run but still not weak enough to just lay and die.

When I'd followed after her, dagger in hand and blood dripping from me like rain, she'd looked at me with a dark expression. Disappointment mingled with fear and disgust. That was the look I knew, the one she'd always looked at me with. As I got closer, the woman who called herself my mother spat her blood at me and growled out one last word before I watched her bleed out, "Monster." 

That house - my house - had been the first. The first time, I'd let the hunger, the insatiable thoughts of bloodshed, win. The family I massacred that day had been my own, but I never regretted killing them, not for one moment that followed. They'd only been the first of many… Too many.

My rancid blood whispered to me: kill, kill, and kill again. This body of mine craved only death. Not my own, but that of others - everyone. In the beginning, I'd hoped it would fade, yet with each death, each lifeless body I left behind, the hunger only grew. The longing to kill again was never far from my mind, and it terrified me. 

What kind of person… What sort of thing had this urge? A dark, twisted urge so powerful it consumed me, possessed me until I satisfied it with the blood and death it craved. My lungs filled with the cool city air, and the blurred edges of my vision slowly faded, replaced by the pain at the base of my skull growing as the urge festered, unsatisfied.

A heavy sigh echoed beside me as the rooftop shingles shifted under the unpredictable steps. "Restless already, young Master?" 

"I just…" My mouth tasted rancid, the intrusive desire to snap my teeth down on my own tongue making the words difficult to get out.

"Which of the lovely little sheep calls to you this time?" He hummed, turning his head to look out into the crowd with an almost gleeful smile. "The baker?" He giggled, jumping in excitement. "No! The shopkeep! He looks like he'd make a particularly fascinating corpse!" Turning, his beady eyes bore into mine again as he examined my expression. "Not him either? One of the children, perhaps?"

"No!" I bit out, trying not to linger on how that prospect appealed to me. "The blacksmith."

The Butler turned his head eagerly and wiggled his fingers, clacking his claws against the shingles. "Oh, excellent! He'll be no match for you, my dear Master. So big and slow, with a copious amount of blood and viscera to work with. A most excellent choice indeed!"

My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides as I forced my lungs to fill with the fresh air. "I'm not killing him. I'm not killing anyone."

"Not this again," The Butler chided. "Young Master, you must–"

"You do not tell me what I must or mustn't do!" My voice was low but a whisper in the wind, but Sceleritas heard it. He heard it as though I'd screamed it at the top of my lungs. For a fleeting second, it looked as though he'd been hurt by my words and my dismissal of him. With a sigh, I shook my head and knelt beside him. "Sceleritas…"

He made a tsking noise and combed his claws through my hair, delicately brushing it back into place. "I live to serve you, young Master. Whether it leads to glorious blood and viscera or not, I live to serve."

I held his hand for a moment. "Thank you."

"I do wish you'd be true to yourself," he said carefully. "But, if you wish to fight your urge, I'll bite my tongue and let you make your own mistakes."

"Sceleritas," I scolded with a half smile.

He quickly shut his lips tightly and bowed. "Since we're not killing anyone, may I inquire as to what we're doing among the sheep?"

Rolling my eyes at his theatrics, I looked back out to the crowd. "Rumor has it this city has been plagued with worshippers of Bhaal. People -" Sceleritas gave me a confused look. "The sheep," I clarified, earning a toothy grin from him. "Are saying there's an old temple somewhere nearby."

"And you intend to find it?" He asked, pride and mischief filling his tone.

"If anyone will have answers for me, it'll be them." I looked down at the odd little goblin-like creature that had been by my side since I first woke, covered in blood. He had leathery skin and a small hat lined with the bones of a snake I'd killed. He kept his clothes neat, even amongst the blood. Sceleritas was still quite the mystery, and everything about him, right down to how his beady eyes watched me with that sparkle of darkness and his claws clicked together as he idly thrummed his fingers together, making it seem like he knew more than he let on. "Unless you, dear butler, know anything about this temple?"

His hands splayed across his chest as his mouth fell open in surprise. "Why, me? Young Master, I've been ever at your side! I know only what you do."

Narrowing my eyes, I watched his lips turn upward in a grin. "Hmm, we'll see."

"Enough chatter!" He plopped down on the rooftop, kicking his feet over the ledge. "You hurry on with your questioning. I'll be waiting right here when you're done."

"I'll be back before nightfall," I assured him, lifting my hood.

"Of course you will. Unless… perhaps, you find a worthwhile distraction," he said, eyes turning away from mine to stare down at the blacksmith, whose full belly jiggled as he laughed.

That longing hum… That dark urge made my head swim for a moment. Kill him, it demanded. Break his bones! Bathe in his blood! Take his life, for it is yours to take! I shook my head and quickly turned away. "I will be back before nightfall."

"As you say, dear Master."

I dropped into a dark alley, my ill-fitted boots doing little to save my knees from feeling the force of the ground solidly meeting my feet. The alley stank with piss and rotting food, a stench that hung over the poorer districts. It was stripped bare of the fragrant roses and perfumers of the upper city. Stripped of everything, with people still demanding more be taken in the name of their lords and ladies and their fine parties and expensive silks.

Baldur's Gate. A beacon of hope and second chances. So many poured through the city gates with those big eyes, spilling with joy and relief, and it would be those eyes I'd see months later devoid of all that sparkle. Joy is a difficult thing to nurture when you're starving and flea-ridden. Baldur's Gate. The city where any and all are welcome to live and create a new life for themselves. A lie.

As I stepped over the multitude of beggars that no longer whispered pleas my way or anyone else's, I held onto that bitter feeling that had festered since I'd stepped foot here. My hands bore the blood of thousands, innocent and guilty alike, but even I was above the cruelty of this city. I was a killer, to be sure, but this city… The cursed Baldur's Gate was just as much a killer as me. At least I didn't pretend to be something else.

I moved among the crowd, ignoring that tingle that sent shivers up my spine at the sight of so many opportunities to slit someone's throat or tear their stomach open. Keeping my head down and my hood high, I kept my feet steadily moving. "You hear about this, uh… Shipment… That arrived late last night?"

"Which one?" The butcher replied, trying not to seem so interested. I slowed, lifting an eye towards them as they stood beneath the canopy of the butcher's stall.

"The metals," the twitchy man continued. "The ones that went straight to that abandoned church."

In one quick slash, the butcher's blade buried into the wooden board before him, slicing clean through the thick red meat. "What 'bout it?"

The twitchy man scratched his neck. "Rumor has it one of the smugglers is a madman. Er'yone that's seen 'im says he's makin' some kinda beast."

"A beast 'O metal?" The butcher laughed, waving off the man with a slab of meat in his hand. "Yer nutty if you believe that! Now get out me stall! Scarin' away payin' folk with yer twitchin'."

I watched them bicker for a moment longer before the twitching little man scurried away. Gossip and rumors were prevalent on the streets, necessary for anyone with no money to their name. Information was just as valuable as gold, but using such currency often required more than one's word. Proof came in various shapes and sizes. Eyewitness, a crumb of physical evidence, or even mentioning names… People higher up on the social ladder than anyone dwelling here. This system served me well. Though plagued by the constant urge to maim and dismember, my mind held information like a vault.

As I walked the streets, it quickly became apparent the well of gossip revolved around some useless arms dealings. I half listened, filing their names and the vague details away in my head while changing my path. If I wanted more than the current babblings today, I'd need to go to the source.

Baldur's Gate held many rivers that information flowed through. The servants working in the Upper City would flow down from those rich establishments and find whatever little pocket of people they belonged to. Taverns, inns, brothels, all little wells collecting information like buckets. Wells that I found most useful in my hunt for the truth. Past the layers of boring city gossip of who fucked who or who wore what lay the drops I required - the drops that would finally satiate my thirst. It was a simple matter of extracting such.

The Elfsong Tavern was bustling with people and flowing with drinks. It was a gem of the Lower City, though its outward appearance did not reflect anything grand or unique. It had ale and wine and clean rooms, which was enough for most people. The chatter that met my ears was akin to that of insects. I brushed past everyone else and quietly stood beside the bar, waiting for a cleaning to speak with the elf behind it.

The barkeeper and owner of the tavern was a soft-faced half-elf, Alan Alyth. He had dark hair and light in his eyes, still hopeful of his future within this city. Unlike the other patrons, he heard everything and saw all, and he wouldn't waste my time with idle chatter. Alan knew nothing about me, but he knew how much I hated talking.

Our eyes locked as the bodies cleared away from him, and he sighed. "What can I get for you?"

"I heard a rumor about Bhaal worshippers and a ruined temple."

Nodding, the elf wiped up a spill. "Few nights ago, two men came in spouting about it."

I set a single coin down on the bar. "I need the details."

Alan examined me for a second but took the coin and continued to speak, "Dunno much, but they said they believed the entrance to this temple or whatever was somewhere near the docks."

Without a word of thanks, I turned and exited the establishment, my feet moving quickly and my heart pounding steadily in my chest. I longed for this to be the one - for this rumor to lead me somewhere. The docks were even busier than the tavern, with shipments coming in and out, people selling fish right out of the barrels, and captains and crews inspecting their vessels. 

I could catch a ride on one of the ships, I thought. It would be easier to sail away from this horrible city and find a secluded place to live the rest of my days alone. Still, the nagging feeling wouldn't go away no matter how far I sailed. I would still always wonder what I was… If I belonged anywhere.

I remained near the docks, listening, watching, and even searching for hidden doors or loose stones that could have contained a clue, a hint even. There was nothing. No talk of Bhaalists or odd symbols. Nothing but the stench of fish and the annoying voices of the sheep. As the sun set, it became increasingly clear that this had been another dead end.

Waste of time, I scowled as I walked the now clear paths of the dark city. It'd been foolish of me to believe that anyone would have anything of substance. Why would idle gossip lead me to some long-lost hidden temple? It was foolish. Hopeful. 

My body roared with disappointment and anger. The feeling of it made my skin itch and my limbs ache. Curse that damned hope, I thought as I neared the rooftop where the butler would be waiting. I felt more breathless with each step, a sickening feeling washing over me as the edges of my vision swam with shadows. 

Don't fight it, that dark part of me urged. The bellows of nearby fire sparked in my ears, accompanied by the clash of steel. I sucked in a deep breath, halting my steps to try and regain control of my thoughts - of my own hands as they shook. Give in. A tang of ash and a tingling of metal filled my mouth. Give in to yourself. I stumbled, my feet shuffling of their own accord away from the rooftop towards the hazed orange light. 

Kill.

My fingers curled around the hilt of my dagger.

Kill.

My body hummed as the heat of the fire washed over my face.

Kill.

My lips curled up in a happy, satisfied smile.

The stone ceiling of the blacksmith's workshop was coated in billows of dark smoke and embers. They danced along the top of it for a moment, sparkling and crackling before being swept up in the midnight breeze and lifted out the tall open windows. My chest heaved with each breath, the air tasting sweet as I drew it deep into my lungs. I felt lightheaded, exhilarated, and satisfied. My mind felt clear for the first time in weeks, and my skull didn't throb. 

The sensation of thick, sticky liquid rolling down my neck pulled me from the enjoyment and relief. I lifted my hands to touch it but found them to be wet. All at once, my mind became my own again, and the sweetness of the air suddenly became heavy with blood. My fingernails dug into the skin of my neck as quiet whimpers filled my throat.

"Oh, how inspired!" Sceleritas purred with gleeful claps. "Artistry as always, my dear Master!"

My neck strained as I lowered my eyes to the corpse I straddled. The blacksmith lay lifeless beneath me, utterly unrecognizable. His eyes, filled with playful mirth and pride this morning, were now raw pits of exposed blood and muscle. The dark hair that once filled his head was scorched off, still smoking and singed with embers. One of his arms had been torn off, hanging from his anvil where the hand had been bludgeoned until the bones turned to dust. Long, intricate cuts lined his remaining arm and torso, leading to the gaping hole in his stomach. His insides were strewn about the room, hanging like dripping vines. And there, plunged into one of the many stab wounds in his chest, my dagger gleamed in the firelight.

I wanted to throw up, to scream and deny, but all I could do was sit there and stare. A prideful feeling simmered in my gut, finding beauty in the gore surrounding me. It was wrong… Beyond wrong… It was demented, deranged, sickening. Yet the feeling remained just like it always did. Sceleritas dug my dagger out from the blacksmith's chest and smiled as he held it out to me with a bow. Then, he noticed my grip on my neck and quickly tutted.

He placed my dagger back in my sheath and gently pried my hands from my skin. He dabbed the angry welts left by my fingernails with a small cloth. "I'm a monster…" I whispered.

Sceleritas' claws poked my cheek as he forced me to look at him. "You are perfect, Master." He combed his fingers through my hair, tucking it from my face. "Absolutely, positively perfect."

I closed my eyes, fighting back tears as the surrounding houses awoke, likely coming to see what the noises had been. They'd come, they always did, and they'd find me covered in the blood of an innocent man, a friend even. From there, things would be exactly as they always were. I'd be forced to flee, vanish, and always be apart like the rest of the monsters.

"Come, we must go," Sceleritas whispered, moving to check the streets.

With quivering breaths, I blinked away tears. What was the point of fighting if the urge would win out eventually? What was the point of any of this fucking life? Pushing myself to my feet, I wiped my hands on my shirt, as if it'd help clean them of blood, before turning to follow Sceleritas when a blink of movement caught my eye. 

There, standing in the doorway to the home attached to the workshop. His eyes were fixed on the body, the guts that hung from the room, filled with fear and despair at the sight of the larger man's lifelessness. Guilt and disgust warred within me against the satisfied bloodlust and pride. The child's lips quivered as tears began to stream down his cheeks. "Pa…"

Sceleritas' hands gently wound around my arms, tugging me away from the pitiful scene I had orchestrated. "Away, young Master. Come away."

The streets blurred together as I followed Sceleritas' sure-footed steps. I could hear the angry shouts and the calls for justice as the sheep turned to wolves. Tears burned my eyes as I considered stopping and submitting to my fate. I deserved it. I deserved to be torn apart just like I'd torn the blacksmith apart or any of the others before him. I was a monster.

Sceleritas turned then and slid to a halt just beneath an old archway. He scrambled, clawing the debris and dirt away from the small sewer cover. "This way!" He hissed. "We will find safety with the others!"

"With the others?"

"The worshippers of the Lord of Murder, of course!"

 "You knew where it was from the start," I bit out, glaring at the creature. 

"We haven't the time for this conversation, Master. Quickly! Come!" He screeched, desperately waving me towards the sewer entrance.

The ground shook with the rushing footsteps of the mob, a thundering anger filling the air like lightning. Grinding my teeth together, I slid through the small, dark opening and landed in the muck. The butler followed close behind, closing the opening just as quickly as he'd uncovered it. I could see the shadows of the mob pass overhead.

Sloshing through the putrid liquid, Sceleritas kept moving forward. I glared at him, using my anger to ignore how the smell burnt my nose and threatened to choke the air from my lungs. "Where are we going?"

He turned, teeth glistening in the low light. "You wished to find the temple, did you not?"

I followed him a few feet forward, watching as he flicked his clawed fingers, and an array of resting magic forced the stones ahead to part, revealing the ruins behind it. Sceleritas bowed, gesturing towards the opening. "After you, young Master."

The dark path forward appeared to be part of the city once, blocked off and locked away… Left to crumble and decay. The air hung heavy with a feeling of hopelessness, death whispers filling every crack and corridor. I followed what paths I could, weaving past fallen stone and broken statues. What had it looked like in its prime? I wondered as we passed through one intact doorway.

Stones shifted beneath quick feet, alerting me to the presence of others surrounding me. The darkness had eyes that watched me as I continued to the second door. If whatever creatures took issue with my presence, they didn't make it known. I could feel Sceleritas' excitement. "Friends of yours?"

"Friends of yours, Master," he replied. "Soon to be subjects if all goes to plan."

I turned my head to glance at him, so many questions wanting to rise from my throat, but none of them could. How many years have you led me astray? I wondered. How long was spent pulling at my strings for this plan?

A shallow river of sewage split the large room in two, forcing me down the right-hand path that looked to have been patched up with wood scraps. Whoever it was that had taken up residence here had clearly put work into trying to remain inconspicuous. The twists and turns should have confused me, but my feet felt steady… Like I already knew the way.

As I stepped out into a larger clearing, the stench of sewage faded slightly. Water trickled from cracks above, and the ruins grew more solid. "This was the Undercity," I observed, peering up the old stairs that had long been barricaded off. 

Sceleritas stood beside a circular platform, flicking his fingers again and lighting two hanging braziers. "A wretched place." He hummed carefully. "But, like most ruins, it wasn't always such." Waving his hand, I could see a marvel in his eyes. "It was a glorious temple once. A place of the highest caliber! Worshipers would come from near and far to pay homage, and many found a home here."

"What happened?" I asked, a wave of solemn sorrow softening my voice.

Sceleritas shook his head with a bitter sneer on his lips. "Many things. The worshipers of Bhaal have been culled many times throughout the ages."

"Like the Bhaalspawn." I shook my head and looked at the butler with teary eyes. "Is that what I am?"

"You are-"

"Perfect," I interrupted him. "I know, you've said that before. But answer me this, please, Sceleritas?"

With a humble nod, he finally replied. "You are one of the last living Bhaalspawn. The Lord of Murder's flesh and blood."

My teeth ground together. All this time I'd spent searching, looking for answers, and the one person that had been with me from the start had them all along. "Why not tell me this from the start?"

"You were not ready then," he replied with a sigh. "You may still not be ready."

"Well, what happens now?" I asked.

Sceleritas only grinned. "You open the door."

The tall door blended in with the surrounding stone, only really noticeable but the too-perfect cracks where the two sides met, tightly sealed. As I approached, I had an itching feeling that this would not be as simple as my loyal companion made it seem. Pressing on them with my hand, nothing moved, but a voice echoed around us in a soft but powerful whisper.

"Do you have proof of your faith to our lord?"

"Proof?" I questioned with furrowed brows. "How does one present proof of faith?"

Sceleritas cleared his throat and pointed to my still-bloody dagger. "You've all the proof you need, dear Master."

I unsheathed it, grimacing at the sight of the blacksmith's blood. The image of the weeping child filled my mind. I didn't utter a word nor lift the dagger higher than my eyes, but the door saw it as if it had looked through my eyes. "A small thing, but a show of faith nonetheless. Walk in blood."

The door cracked, and the path forward appeared before me, along with a choice. I could turn back and face what I'd done. Or I could continue on this path, wherever it led me, and finally learn the truth. Sceleritas took hold of my hand and squeezed. "The choice is yours, Remora, my dear Master. I can only urge you not to run from what you are." He smiled. "I can only assure you that you are perfect, just as you are."

Bloodshed, death, murder… None of it appealed to me beyond that itch of my darker urges, but I'd killed so many. My hands were forever stained in blood, and nothing, not even facing judgment, would clean them. I'd kill again. I knew it to be true. What choice is there? I asked myself. Nothing will change unless you see this through. "It'd be a waste to turn back now." I smiled down at him and squeezed his hand back. "Besides, what would I do without my most loyal butler?"

We walked hand in hand down the decrepit staircase where the abandoned stone building came into view, nestled overtop a straight drop into nothingness. Sceleritas led me over the bridge of fallen pillars and through a low archway. I held his hand tightly in mine, using his presence as some reassurance to ease the fear and hopelessness rising in my chest. No matter what I found here, Sceleritas would be beside me. He always was.

Bright red lights illuminated as we traversed the winding, bloodstained path. Statues spoke to me, but I couldn't grasp their words beyond the sound of my heart hammering against my ribcage. The bridge stretched across, lit with fire and dark magic. Up a small set of stairs, another door stood closed. Sceleritas released my hand and skipped up the steps, turning to bow before me. "Oh, my Master! Welcome! Welcome to your royal home!"

The doors opened behind him as if on their own accord. Now or never. I ascended the stairs and walked through the doorway with my head held high. From the high ledge, I could see every corner of the room, the lights and the bodies of people gathered, but what I noticed most was the large pool of blood that stood on the opposite side of the room where a skull with bleeding eyes had been carved into the stone. 

Bhaal. My father, if Sceleritas had spoken the truth. With another deep breath, I moved past the robed figures and down towards the center of this congregation. As I passed, the cultists whispered praises, words of great joy at my arrival. Sparing Sceleritas a glance, I quickly asked, "They were expecting us?"

"You, Master," he happily replied. "They've been expecting you for quite some time."

"Praised be the Lord of Murder!" One of them softly exclaimed. 

An odd feeling of warmth suddenly erased the fear from my body. Never before had I been waited on… Met with soft words of joyous welcomes. They wanted me here. They felt some kind of love for me, and I enjoyed it. "They… like me?”

Sceleritas scoffed. "They adore you, Master!"

At the bottom of the steps, all the cultists bowed their heads. "Welcome home, Bhaalspawn. We have waited a very long time for this day."

"What day?"

The woman, who seemed to be the eldest, chuckled. "For you to ascend and take your place as Bhaals Chosen, of course!" She turned, gesturing to the pool of blood. "Go on, submerge yourself, and all shall be revealed."

By my side, Sceleritas urged me to go forward into the blood. My dark, featherless reflection hovered over the thick liquid. There was a moment of hesitation, a moment where I knew deep inside me that this wasn't what I wanted. Sceleritas' voice was soft as he seemed to answer my deepest fears. "Do not deny what you are, Remora. For it is beautiful, beloved, holy. You are perfect, just as you are."

I took the first step, giving into the deepest desire to be loved and accepted. Maybe this was the only way for something like me to achieve such. Maybe this was always what I was meant for. As the blood enveloped me, I felt warm… Safe… Powerful. Flashes of bodies torn apart and skulls growing from trees filled my vision. "Child of blood, go forth with divine purpose."

When I emerged again, the first thing I heard was Sceleritas clapping. Then, all that stood before me bowed. "All hail Bhaal's Chosen!"

This was my future - my life. All the years I'd spent trying to be anything other were wasted. Thief. Urchin. Whore. Murderer. Assassin. Monster. Demon. All those years of fighting, scraping, bowing, resisting… It had all been futile. This was what I was, who I was. Bhaalspawn.

Bhaal's Chosen.

[hislittleraincloud]

Marilyn Thornhill, studying Nepenthes plant species, c. 2005 🌿✨

[lostdrarryfics]

Hello! Hoping you can help with this semi-odd ask! I saw gorgeous art in the LCD fest this year (The Shape of Us by Fantalf). In my mind, there was an accompanying fic, or maybe a past fic, based on the same movie (The Shape of Water). I truly don't know if I imagined the fic based on that evocative art, but I figured this was the place to ask. Thanks in advance!!

Hello! We couldn't find anything that matched your description, but your ask reminded us of Silver Scales In Pools of Green by Archaic_Nepenthes (26k, E). Could that be what you're thinking of?

[amarmoria]

Nepenthe

꩜.ᐟ Qimir x Padawan! Reader

Why would your master want a padawan like you when he has his acolyte?

Notes: I've seen fics abt padawan reader and none can quench my thirst eugh😫pls note i have nooo idea what goes on in the star wars universe please don't come for me😣

"Hand me that one, fast" He gestured to the purple fruit just beside you, not daring to glance at you. "Yes, sir"

You curiously peeked over your master as you handed the fruit, what was so important it had him rushing like this?

"It's for Mae," he says, the squelching fruit making you frown, you forget he reads minds as easily as breathing. Your frown deepens as you remember. Mae. His acolyte, he took you in a few months before Mae came, that first few months felt like heaven, it was just you and him, in this unknown planet, training, practicing.

Yet, after Mae came, it almost felt like you were some kind of servant for the both of them, he trained with her day and night, leaving you to fend for yourself, he told you it's because you've already been trained by him, that you don't need to anymore, you didn't mind, you got along with Mae... on your perspective that is.

Mae was a fast learner, you were proud of her, now you have someone to share your training with, converse like a normal person, but later you realized that him and her were two sides of the same coin, quiet, mute, they don't like conversations, although you made an effort to be friends with Mae, than you ever did with your master since she was the lesser evil, you're quite proud of yourself when your conversations with her turned from smalls nods and no's to simple phrases.

You didn't care that your master had two Padawans under his belt, that is until he taught her some things he never even told you about, every now and then he would drop hints about what he would teach you next, to prepare you, but this one was unknown to you, you thought, maybe, maybe he forgot to tell you since he was so engrossed in trying to make Mae catch up to you, but Mae didn't just catch up to you, she had already passed way above you, while your stuck on the pedestal she was weeks ago.

"Something on your mind, little bee?" That nickname, he never once gave an explanation on why he calls you that. "No, uh, nothing.. master"

You focus on his muscles grinding the stone bowl.

"I don't think that's nothing"

"I'm fine, really." You bite the inside of your cheeks. "Hm"

You blink, fiddling with the hem of your robes, you let a few seconds pass before speaking up.

"Why.. why does Mae need it?" He halted his movements, and right then and there you almost regretted asking, almost. "She's having nightmares"

He resumed his cooking, although his brief answer didn't provide you with anything, so what? You were having nightmares once too, and he told you to suck it up.

And as if he read your mind, which he did. "I don't want it to hinder her performance, we don't want any distractions during this time of her training."

What about my training? You wanted to yell at him, what about me? Why can't you make me one of your anti-nightmare potions too?

You could only clench your fists, making sure he doesn't hear some of your thoughts, which is hard considering he didn't teach you to, only Mae, along with healing your body by using the force, all her, and your left in the dust.

Your master said using negative emotions is the best fuel for people like them. Them. He told you, him and Mae obvi, you're nowhere near the equation, like an addition symbol in a multiplication question, makes no sense right? Because you make no sense being there when he clearly prioritizes Mae.

"—are you still listening?"

"I, huh," your eyes flutter up to him, frowning when he says nothing but look at you. A few seconds pass with only the both of you staring each other down, I mean, him staring you down with his creepy mask, he suddenly lets go of the pestle, the tool colliding with the mortar loudly.

He was now towering over you, and you realize then how big he was compared to you, it's like a dwarf next to a willow tree. (Guys no matter how big you think you are, Qimir is always bigger✋)

"I can't hear you, but I feel you" oh fuck, you forgot about that. "What is this plaguing your mind?"

Before you could answer, Mae comes running.

"You're back" He focuses on her, you let out a deep breath, for once your relieved Mae came in just a nick of time. "The ship's ready, master"

"Good, let's go" he grabs his robe from behind you. "Finish the potion before we come back"

"Whe, where are you guys going?"

"Nothing of importance, now go." He gestures to the stone bowl, his menacing helmet buzzing in your ears. "Yes, master.."

"Good girl." you couldn't hear his last few mumbles, only registering everything when they left the cave, leaving you alone.

-

You decided that you're gonna make an anti-nightmare potion for yourself too, because why does only Mae get it when you can make one in case you get nightmares?

And the best place to buy ingredients was with the best apothecary in town.

"Qimir?" You knock on the door. "I need to buy things for him, are you there?"

No answer.

"Hellooo?"

You pouted and turned around, now everyone's busy when you're not, you wanted to wait for a few more seconds but people might think you're crazy for trying to buy from an abandoned pharmacy, your master told you Qimir was there anytime you needed something to use for missions, but now that you don't go to missions, you love to annoy the clumsy pharmacy owner.

"Hey, wait!"

You tried to stop the smile creeping to your face when you hear the door bust open.

"I'm here!" He yelled, you turned around and waved, a big smile covering your face. "What took you so long?"

"What do you mean?" He playfully shrugged. "Been here since forever"

You felt more comfortable with him, you don't have to have to tiptoe around him unlike with the other, you liked to tease him about not taking a bath and for looking like a ragged hobo.

"What are you doing here though?" His eyebrows furrowed as you skip to him, you gave him a warm smile once again before making your way inside. "I need some things for him."

He frowned.

"Things? He didn't tell me he needed anything when they passed here."

"Well he told me, so go fetch it for me, servant" you chuckle and hit him on the bicep, he fakes a cry before hesitating to open the shelves.

"Here's the list of his majesty needs"

"His majesty?" He laughs, you just love making him laugh, maybe it's just you, or maybe you're just alone, but if there's anyone in the world you're going to survive an apocalypse with, it's Qimir.

"Uh huh, he keeps barking orders, finish this, finish that before we get home nyeh nyeh nyeh"

He chuckles once again. "Are you sure about telling me that? I might just snitch and get a promotion."

You feign an insulted look. "You don't dare"

"Oh but I do"

You both sat there laughing, forgetting about what you were here for. You clutch your tummy and struggle to inhale air.

"I can't— stop—" you burst out laughing once again, your face heating up, the tears in your eyes now brimming full.

"No no don't die on me" He jokes, you can see him staring, you wanted to look at him like that, shameless, but you can't stand looking at him for more than 3 seconds without blushing.

"Really?" He mumbles, but you heard him, clear as day. "What?"

"I, I mean, really h-huh? You can't stop laughing?" He waved both his hands in the air.

"You weirdo"

"Oh so now I'm the weirdo?"

"Uh huh"

"Since when?!"

"Since we met"

"Says the person who keeps barging in my shop"

"You like it though right?" You look up at him expectantly. "Like w-what?"

You gesture with your hands. "This?"

"This what?"

"You're always alone here, you must be grateful that I always visit."

"Yeah, always"

"What does that mean!" You put your hands on your waist. "It means you're always here, so you're like an everyday occurance by now"

You roll your eyes as he finishes up the list.

"Here's the last one—" you frown as he pauses. "What?"

"Isn't this," he picks up the list again. "It's for.."

You gulp, your fingers fumble with the wooden seat.

"N-no, no, it's not" you avert your eyes from him, the floor looking a little more interesting today.

"It's for nightmares isn't it?"

"I don't know, he only gave the list, nothing else."

"It is for nightmares, why do you need these?"

"I don't know, it's not for me." You clench your fists. "If it was for him he'd tell me himself"

Your eyes try to find something, anything, to tell him.

"I think it's for Mae okay? Maybe, maybe she's having nightmares and, and maybe he doesn't want it to distract her.."

"But I al—" he pauses, his jaw flexing. "I already gave him these."

His eyes narrow on you, like a deer in the headlights you could only look away.

"Tell me?" His soft voice lures you to him. "Are you having them?"

"No.." you sigh, do you tell him you're making the potion out of spite for your master? For making one for Mae and not for you, ugh it all sounds childish now, before you left you had a plan, and now you look like a child caught.

"Just—" you let out a deep breath. "Give it, and I'll be on my way"

He stares at you for a moment, before placing everything in a small pouch. You thanked him and left the credits on the table before hurriedly leaving, you could still feel his stare at the back of your head.

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ DEFINITIONS OF MUSIC.

fandom. formula one

pairing. charles leclerc x professional pianist fem!reader (fc: none)

about. y/n y/l/n is one of the celebreties who has gone viral during lockdown. when she publishes her first album, she raises a few eyebrows with a featured artist

content warnings. social media au, not edited/proofread

notes. this is a very self-indulgent fic... so you all better love it or else 🫵

YOURUSERNAME AND 3 OTHERS

liked by zendaya, hanszimmer and 14'083'874 others

yourusername and 3 others we're proud to announce the album DEFINITIONS. each of the 26 original composed pieces embrace the title itself, the feeling of these words. they're defined by our language and passion, a gift from us to you.

yourusername so happy our baby is finally out, thank you adrian, charles and jamie, for this partnership. i couldn't have done this without you!

hanszimmer This is music.

charles_leclerc And it's finally here! I had so much fun working on this, thank you @/yourusername for allowing me to be part of your project🥰

jamieduffyy absolutely incredible!! stream definitions now!!!

zendaya I'm sobbing over the whole alphabeth, who would've thought... this is 🤯🤯

user holyyyyy shittttttt

user 26 SONGS??? AND MOST OF THEM ARE OVER 4 MINS LONG WE'RE GETTING SPOILED FR

haileybieber listening this on repeat and still getting shivers, this is incredible work 💗

user the butterfly effect is so real here...

⤷ user if you told me i'd follow this one tiktoker because she went viral with her piano only to become a fan of men who drive in fancy circles...

⤷ user SO I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO'S NOW AN F1 FAN??

user sobbing over nepenthe on repeat

user CHARLES WITH LEMAN?? HELLO??? AND THEN ALSO PHILOCALY??? MY MAN STAND UP AND STOP WRITING LOVE LETTERS

⤷ user what.

⤷ user for the love of god, please look up what the words mean... charles really thought he was slick with this one

⤷ user oh my god.

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Y/N Y/L/N SHOCKS MUSIC WORLD WITH CLASSICAL ALBUM AND FEATURED ARTISTS! FIVE PIECES OF THE 26-PIECE ALBUM ARE IN THE INTERNATIONAL CHARTS. EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT 'DEFINITIONS'.

From Viral TikToker to Record Holder, Y/n brings Classical Music back in Trend.

By Sara Ristan | Published February 24, 2024

If you know anything about music, you know the current trends. Pop and Rap is what the current generation likes, with a few outliners. From the very beginning, Y/n seemed to be one of them as well. Her first release, 'A Sailor's Wish', has been trending along with 'Solas', by her fellow artist Jamie Duffy for many weeks.

Her other composed pieces never hit the same numbers, that was until she released a full album. 'Definitions' has 26 original composed pieces, mixed with piano and full orchestra. It's an album full of masterpieces, fully deserving the high praise it has been receiving the past few days.

Every piece in the Album is named after a rare word, each one of them beginning with a letter of the Alphabet. Most of them were composed by Y/n herself, her signature moves regognizable, if you're familiar with her music. If you wish to read a full analysis of the whole album, click here.

Notable, besides the mindblowing compositions, are also the featured artists. We have Adrian Berenguer, Charles Leclerc and Jamie Duffy- each of them well known in their niche. What has raised eyebrows however, is that unlike Adrian and Jamie, Charles himself. He's an athlete, a Formula One driver in fact and very well known. While his fans knew about his releases, singles and even an album with Sofiane Pamart, no one was prepared for the partnership with Y/n.

Especially the titles of the pieces, two of them speaking about love, one is even titled as 'Leman', which means lover. Are these two trying to give us hints?

Beside that, five of the 26 pieces are currently in the charts, having already gathered millions of streams within days. Absolutely mindblowing!

click to read more

CHARLES_LECLERC

liked by yourusername, zendaya and 3'099'738 others

charles_leclerc P1 in Driver Championship Standings, P1 in International Charts, P1 in your heart... I love you, mon amour

yourusername ugh, ugly sobbing crying rn, no one talk to me

yourusername i love you too you sap

⤷ charles_leclerc Guilty hehe

⤷ charles_leclerc Doesn't stop me from loving you, cherié

⤷ yourusername i never told you to stop

jamieduffy fucking finally

zendaya @/tomholland2013 why don't you write you love songs for me??

⤷ tomholland2013 you're the one who sings?

user WE WON!!! Y/N NATION WE FUCKING WON

user if you squint you can see me fucking dead BECAUSE WTF IS THIS THEYRE ACTUALLY TOGETHER I CAN NOT IM DEAD OH MYGOOODDDDDD

⤷ user lmao felt

user now we know how charles even agreed to y/n asking for a collab... he has always been down bad for her

⤷ yourusername you're so right

⤷ user OH MY GOD???

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taglist. @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @lupicalbestwolf , @akiraquote , @lpap , @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @namgification

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

[4unnyr0se]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :haikyuu masterlist: :;

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ fics | smut

❥ nepenthe | kotaro bokuto

➥ bokuto's in a slump because he's missing all his spikes, and the only person who can cheer him up is msby's prettiest manager

❥ meddle about | kenma kozume

➥ kenma is forced to attend a work-related party. he runs into a model that works closely with lev, and she's into him

❥ que linda | shoyo hinata

➥ homesick, hinata jumps on the first plane to japan and hits up his old manager that he had a massive tiny crush on

❥ elysian | koshi sugawara

➥ sugawara and the art teacher bond over cleaning up glue and macaroni, which blossoms into something more

❥ ohmami | hajime iwaizumi

➥ iwaizumi runs into his high school best friend at the gym he works at, and it's too dark for her to walk back home all by herself. so obviously he's a gentleman and drives her

❥ moth to a flame | toru oikawa

➥ oikawa hates ushijima with every bone in his body. turns out his ex-girlfriend feels the same way. why make him furious by making a sex tape?

❥ shameless | kei tsukishima

➥ you and tsukishima have been enemies since high school. you enroll in sendai university thinking that you have finally escaped him and his stupid good looks. you were wrong.

❥ apple cider | tobio kageyama

➥ tobio is failing his biology class, specifically struggling with the human anatomy unit. who's better than to tutor him than the annoyingly smart hot nerd girl?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ fics | fluff

❥ young love at fukurodani | kotaro bokuto

➥ boktuo and his schoolboy crush

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ drabbles | smut

❥ tsukishima plays the waiting game | part i | part ii |

➥ tsukishima has a crush, but he bides his time

❥ tsukishima and asphyxiation

➥ tsukishima's little girlfriend likes his hands around her neck

❥ kuroo as your boss

➥ kuroo and his sexy new employee

❥ matching with haikyuu captains on tinder | part i | part ii | part iii | part iv |

➥ captains match with you on tinder

❥ pretty and possessive

➥ possessive! oikawa meets you at a party

❥ eat it from the back!

➥ kenma and akaashi eat it from the back

❥ til your teeth rot!

➥ how akaashi, osamu, kenma, and bokuto eat it

❥ morning breath

➥ morning sex with kenma and suna

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ drabbles | multiple | smut

❥ caught ya!

➥ catching you masturbating

❥ fuckin with the pretty setter squad | part i

➥ how the members of the pretty setter squad fuck

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ smau | smut

❥ spicy insta post reaction | part i | part ii |

➥ reacting to you posting a spicy pic on insta

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ headcanons | smut

❥ yuu nishinoya & morisuke yaku

➥ sfw & nsfw

❥ tobio kageyama

➥ sfw & nsfw

[zaldritzosrose]

Aegon Targaryen

Lose Control (Aegon x Niece!Reader) 🗡🔥

Make Me Want To Sin (Aegon x Betrothed!Reader) 🔥

Lessons In Pleasure (Aegon x Reader x Harwin) 🔥

I Could Be Your King (Aegon x Wife!Reader) 🔥🗡❤️

Aemond Targaryen

Sanguine Obsession (Vamp!Aemond x Human!Reader) 🔥

Rȳbās (Aemond x Wife!Reader) 🔥

A Banquet of Consequences (Regent!Aemond x Wife!Reader) 🔥🗡

Nepenthe (Aemond x Wife!Reader) 🗡

Disease (Aemond x Witch!Reader) 🔥

Jacaerys Velaryon

Lessons Well Learned (Jace x Twin!Reader x Aegon) 🔥

Criston Cole

Bring Me To Salvation (Criston x Whore!Reader) 🔥

Multi Character

Sell Your Soul (Vampire!Aemond x Mortal!Reader x Wolf!Aegon) 🔥

(Any collaboration, celebration or OC series fics will be in their own or my main writing masterlist)

🔥 smut

🗡 angst

❤️ fluff

[littlest-xb]

@electricpentacle calling it like it is

Me, Absolutely Unable To Function In My Real Life If I See My Fictonal Little Ones Are Having A Bad Time In Any Capacity: Yea, I Like 'Em A Normal Amount.

[highlynerdy]

"Aithusa has seen her father's mate in his memories and smelled him on her father's skin when he comes to visit, but this is the first time she gets to meet him for herself."

Nepenthe and Lavender by @0hheytherebigbadwolf

My latest fanARTifact is an entirely handlettered, handbound, and illustrated book of this beautifully fluffy fic (and it has actually been in various states of progress since March 1, 2021.) More below the cut!

So as I said above, I actually started planning this fic over two years ago. Which, yeah, I don't really want to talk about because adhd is a hell of a thing. I love love love this fic (and this entire series) and I was inspired by The Black Hours and other gorgeous manuscripts with metallic on black paper.

I ordered some black paper from Canson for the text block, used Arabic gold finetec paint mixed with water and gum arabic as my ink (I used three pans of the gold paint...), and a Nikko G nib with a straight pen holder for the calligraphy. I really wanted to use one of my broad tip nibs, but I just couldn't my Uncial letters small enough with it. I used Uncial since that was technically the alphabet/font they used in the Arthurian time period.

The paper was cut down and folded into signatures of three and then I drew out light pencil lines for the text and for the margins. Every single letter was done sooooo slooowwllly because if I messed up on one page there was no way to erase it, which meant I would have to do basically four pages worth of lettering again since they were all connected.

And I did mess up.

More than once.

I think the most heartbreaking mistake was at the very end when I was trying to erase my pencil lines and I just ripped a page completely in half. The tears were real, folks.

Once I finished lettering - which took hours and hours and hours over many weeks - it was time to assemble the text block and sew it. I used gold silk thread I had leftover from Arthur's scarf (which is also used as the backdrop for the photo shoot) to sew the block together and I love how it gives just another little peek of gold to the book.

I painted the end papers in a vaguely floral pattern with the same gold and also some silver finetec paint, glued them all together and put them in my book press and then promptly didn't work on it again from October 2022 to July 2023. Sigh.

But once I committed to getting it done, I asked @swanfloatieknight to help be my accountabilibuddy and make sure I finished it this week. I tested out so many different cover designs, from fabric and thread, to paper, to finally settling on this all over design done by my cricut. Historically accurate?? Nah. I'm about as historically accurate as BBC Merlin.

I tried my hand at gold foiling and that was a disaster so I just used a gold silk ribbon to give the color a little bit more color. Once it was bound, I painted in a triskelion and Aithusa on a double page spread I left intentionally blank.

And it was finally done!

All in all, I'm pleased with how it turned out. Was it an exercise in patience? Yes. Did I learn a lot? Also yes. Mostly that handlettering an entire fic is madness and also this is far too small to case bind, but I'm a stubborn ass and it was happening regardless.

All total, I probably worked on this for about 50+ hours. It was most definitely a labor of love and I'm so happy that it's finally done.

Thank you for inspiring me to take on such a project by writing such wonderful fics, @0hheytherebigbadwolf! And thank you for everyone who reads these long fanARTifact posts. 💛

[itoshiexx]

the garden of your heart

you are now reading... LENA'S 1K MILESTONE EVENT FIC!

↳ isagi yoichi + nepenthe (n.) - something that can make you forget grief or suffering

synopsis: when the weight of loss threatens to crush your bones, isagi yoichi becomes the solace you need.

notes: hi guys. i wasn't planning on posting this so soon, but then again, i wasn't planning on my dog dying and experiencing grief first hand either, so this flowed out of me as a form of comfort. thank you for requesting @popponn, love you dear <3

event masterlist

grief came in a wavelength of darkness; one that covered every seam and corner of your skin until it swallowed you whole. grief carved its way deep into your heart, leaving behind a hole that burned every time your chest expanded to try to breathe. grief had an iron grip on the base of your throat, choking down the words of disbelief and the acute sorrow of your cries that insisted on keep coming out, despite the irritation on the skin of your eyes. 

grief, you thought, was kind of like facing death one on one, shivering upon its wicked smile, watching helplessly as it takes away something you cherish and treasure with all your heart.

“baby, have you eaten yet?”

you can barely register the words coming out of yoichi’s mouth, too engrossed in staring at the white ceiling and reliving the last 24 hours on an endless, torturous loop. you try to blink away the images of your loved one dead, but they keep coming and opening the dam that releases your infinite tears. you’ve lost count on how many of them you have already shed.

(it seems like it could fill the pacific ocean).

“baby?” he tries again, gently poking your body. with great strength, you manage to look at him. 

grief took away the sparkle of life in your orbs, almost as if you were the one who passed — because, in reality, a part of you did die with them. grief made you feel incomplete, sensing an emptiness that was never there before, but that would perpetually be from then on.

yoichi smiles, and it feels like a beam of light on your little dark bubble. 

“there you are. my pretty baby.” he runs his fingers through your hair, trying to soothe the fresh wounds of your soul, even for just a moment. “what would you like to eat? i’ll cook for you.”

you feel the tears once again prickle your lash line, but you fight the quiver of your lips and the cement block lodged in your throat. “i’m… ’m not hungry.”

grief made you lose your appetite. it made you lose a lot of things.

(ironic, considering it all began from loss itself).

your boyfriend frowns, “you know you need to eat, honey. at least a little bit.”

guilt starts gathering in your guts. you don’t want to worry your boyfriend — your sweet, kind boyfriend who is always by your side — because what if you lose him too? what would you do with another hole in your life, in your heart? how could you bear the weight of another loss without letting grief take over you completely?

“hey, hey… don’t cry, pretty. i’m sorry,” yoichi is quick to say, turning until he’s face to face with you. he sits on the edge of the couch and brings your face to his warm chest, drawing circular motions on your back to try and calm you down.

you didn’t even realize when you started crying again, but you let it flow. although everything in the world seems fragile and scary, you know you can always count on isagi to be your safe space. 

because your lover’s heart is like a garden — a place where the birds chirp and the flowers continuously bloom, even when they are faced with drought. a spot where the breeze gently blows your hair and kisses your wounds, no matter how deep they are. a space where you can rest and recharge, allowing yourself to be vulnerable. 

(you don’t have to be strong all the time).

yoichi’s heart is the one slot of the whole universe where you know you can find peace from your worst nightmares. 

“what do you want me to do, pretty? how can i help you feel better?” he asks, voice slightly shaken with concern. it makes your heart swell, and maybe, just maybe, you think you can be alright. 

“just hold me,” you murmur. 

because it’s love that fills the holes and makes you forget grief. even if it’s just for a little while.

© 2024 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[lively-potter]

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ᥕᥱᥣᥴ᥆꧑ᥱ ₊˚ˑ

— moon struck ; jjk - intro - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 -

— nepenthe ; jjk - intro - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9

— trials of athena ; jjk - intro - teaser - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

— limitless ; jjk ( completed on WP, coming soon )

— grey ; OT7 ( coming soon )

— masochist ; jjk ( coming soon )

— beg ; jjk ( coming soon )

— penpal ; jjk ( coming soon )

— his submissive; jjk ( coming soon )

note ; most of my works are on wattpad, so if you wanna read ahead, feel free to go onto my wattpad to start reading!

Wattpad

Academy Info for my fics ( please read )

As always, I thank you all so much for reading my works and I’m so grateful ✨💜

[nastylittleghouls]

Nepenthe(s)

Relationship(s): Aether/Dewdrop, Mountain/Dewdrop

Rating: Teen

Words: about 2.1k  

Summary: Lucifer is more benevolent to his children than God. Dewdrop has always been a firm believer in that. That doesn‘t make existing without his mate any easier.

Warnings: Major Character Death, grief, mentioned Drug use, religious lore, unhealthy coping mechanisms, weed-induced weirdness about pre, implied disordered eating, unintentionally funny metaphors

Notes: Special thanks to @askingforthesun for allowing me to borrow elements of their fic (also MCD, be warned, but so good. Go read! ) and general lore so I could release this little thing into the wild. Hopefully, you won’t regret letting me into your sandbox. 😉 I recommend listening to the song I used as an intro during the second half of this fic (It'll be linked there) Unbeta‘ed as usual.

AO3 link for the so-inclined

You taught me the courage of stars before you left How light carries on endlessly, even after death With shortness of breath You explained the infinite And how rare and beautiful it is to even exist I couldn't help but ask for you to say it all again I tried to write it down, but I could never find a pen I'd give anything to hear you say it one more time That the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes - Saturn- Sleeping at last (or, Dewdrop reminiscing about Aether)

Plants behaving badly: murder and mayhem is playing on the TV. The still ongoing consequence of a shared joint, Mountain lamenting the lack of variety in his collection of carnivorous plants, and a turned too serious debate about which ghoul is the most alike to any of the aforementioned plants. Mountain can‘t let shit like this go. He has to be right and he’ll present proof. 

Therefore, sometimes things that happen in the greenhouse don’t stay in the greenhouse. They occupy the common room in the ghoul wing. 

Mountain has their enormous pack blanket wrapped around them both, Dew‘s head resting partly in his armpit and halfway on a pec, his legs across Mountain‘s thighs. Mountain’s hand is absentmindedly rubbing over a weirdly raised stitch on Dew‘s knee. Courtesy of Dew taking care of rubbed-through fabric himself.  It’s actually kind of nice to feel the thread pressing into his skin. 

Dew’s only half listening to Mountain explaining why this is his favorite documentary about carnivorous plants and how it‘ll show Dew why he‘s right.  His attention is a mess on a good day. If he's not holding his guitar or praying, his memory is even worse. Now the weed does the rest to scatter his mind all over the place. 

Mountain squeezes Dew a little too hard when the sundew finally makes an appearance. It’s uncomfortable. Even so, it helps Dew to fully focus on the right now. „See? That’s you!“

Dew narrows his eyes at the screen. He still doesn’t see his point. „And I repeat, the fuck? How?“

„With your pre. It‘s like, extra thick. Little pearls all over the red tip of your dick when you get all needy. Smells and tastes delicious. It’s a ghoul mouth trap“, Mountain emphasizes with a gesture at the screen, a dopey weed-induced grin on his face, barely managing to duck his head away when Dew half-heartedly swats at him. 

„You‘re a fly then, the way you always buzz around me despite the threat of certain death, begging for a taste.“ 

A faint blush appears on Mountain‘s cheeks and his eyes drop down between Dew‘s thighs, licking his lips. Intention clear. His nostrils flare to see if he can catch that sweet scent. If Dew‘s in the mood to indulge him. 

There is- nothing.  Not a hint of arousal.   Not even Dew’s natural smokey aroma. Yet, he’s not disappointed. The fact that Dew is here with him, willingly allows himself some mundane enjoyment, already feels like so much. 

Even more so when Mountain thinks about how often Rain had gone to the cathedral to check on him throughout the last months, how Mountain had found him earlier, sleeping surprisingly peacefully in the pew after missing yet another meal. His prayer beads wrapped so tightly around his hand that the indents were still faintly shimmering on his skin now. And Mountain had had enough. He had scooped him up and carried him into the greenhouse where this whole thing had started and now; it almost feels like a usual night before their world had been tipped upside down again. Almost. 

It’s a silver lining. 

„If anything, I‘m a bee. I only go for the tasty shit and sleep with the prettiest of flowers“, he counters, so confidently with his flat chest puffing out and everything, it‘s making Dew snort. That‘s truly his earth ghoul right here.  

“I can’t tell if you’re calling me pretty or just want to fuck your plants”, Dew teases with feigned thoughtfulness, flicking his fingers against the space between Mountain‘s eyebrows. It earns him a light pinch in the thigh and a mumbled: “fuck you”.

When the earth ghoul looks up again, he expects another snarky come back but Dew sends him a look that is not quite regretful but close to it. Dew’s hand moves up to pet Mountain’s hair, using it to pull him down to peck his lips. 

„Not tonight.'' 

Those words should sound like a raincheck. What Mountain hears is an apology when there shouldn’t be one. His love for Dew is not tied to conditions like Dew sharing his body with him. Now less than ever.  He wishes he had the means to let Dew know somehow without making a big deal out of it, for the fire ghouls sake, when he feels a small red rose bloom at the bottom of his horn, coming to his aid. He nods and leans in for another peck. Turns it into a proper kiss because he can and Dew lets him.  

„Another time,“ he agrees and plucks the rose with a small wince, tucking it safely behind Dew‘s ear, “my pretty flower”. 

The gesture makes Dew frown up at Mountain, and for a split second, it seems like the next swatting is imminent. Mountain would endure that and more. What matters is that Dew knows he is loved. But it doesn’t happen. Dew just settles into his side again with a huff. 

Then the narrator moves on to another plant and the moment is over. „That Butterwort is Cumulus,“ Mountain states, in a tone that indicates he expects Dew to disagree again. Instead, Dew nods, agreeably, and even adds, „Aurora too.“

As soon as the credits roll, Dew untangles himself from Mountain’s arm and the blanket and slips to his feet, brushing his lips affectionately over the earth ghoul’s hairline and the base of his horns. His smile is weary when their eyes meet again.  

„Gonna hit the hay. Night, Evergreen“.

Mountain gives him a bewildered look but eagerly meets him halfway just the same when Dew moves in for a hug. It has Mountain holding him tighter than he probably should, his face tucked into Dew’s neck. He just missed this more than he had let himself think about and it feels too soon to lose it again. 

“Night, Lilypad. Don‘t let the bed bugs bite.”

He watches Dew walk out of the common room until he‘s out of the door and almost swallowed by the shadows in the hallway, his mind still mulling Dew’s words over. No one has called him Evergreen since….

Clarity hits him like a well-aimed sobering punch in the gut. The almost overwhelming feeling of nausea follows suit. It‘s here. The moment he dreaded, they all dreaded, may happen. In hindsight, the signs were blatant.  Dew not even trying to bargain with him about leaving the cathedral, the overly sudden surge in willingness to be social for such a long period of time when Dew had been shying away from it. All that combined with the missing natural scent, the most obvious one of them all, is unmistakable. A sure sign that fire ghouls are on the verge of leaving the physical plane of existence. 

All right in front of him. The very last one left from his old pack. Eventually, he will accept it as the honor that it is. Right now, he‘s reeling. 

He gives himself a mental shove and manages to call an „I love you. Sleep well“ after Dew just before he’s out of his sight.

Then his eyes turn back to the screen. Stares at it until his vision blurs. Stricken. Chest so tight he can barely breathe. His claws pierce through the thick fabric of his self-assigned greenhouse overall he hasn’t bothered to change out of yet. It takes all of his willpower to keep himself sitting on the couch right there, to not let his selfishness win to try to stop the inevitable. It’s not his right to interfere, if he even could, as painful as it is. As it will be, for a long time.

So he just sits there, helpless in his decision. 

A weeping willow. 

Dew ghosts through the corridors of the ministry, on a whim taking the long route to pass through the Ghouls' living quarters. The urge to hear their voices before he retreats to his hideaway is stronger than usual tonight. To lock another piece of each and every one of them once more into the respective places in his heart. 

There’s a thud behind one of the closed doors, followed by Swiss’ cackling. Aeon and Aurora complain about being bullied. That exasperated yet fond sigh? Cirrus. 

Rain‘s room is quiet except for the sound of running water. It draws Dew in so he pauses, lays both palms on the wooden door, and listens for a breath, maybe two. Sends a wave of affection Rain’s way before continuing his path. 

He can still hear Sunshine’s laughter, after their caused chaos went either according to plan or wonderfully wrong, when he passes her abandoned room, as faded in his memories as it is. He gives her door a little salute, not trusting himself to linger there. Knows that Cumulus finds solace in sitting in there for a while during this hour, singing to her lost ray of light. 

Treasures, all of them. 

He takes all of them up the stone stairs into the attic with him, the soles of his shoes scruffing over the sandy surface as he recites another prayer under his breath. As if to absolve himself for his absence in the pews. The beads around his neck feel heavier with each word, making him briefly consider turning around and visiting the cathedral for a second time today but he has to admit to himself that he wouldn’t be able to get far tonight. It’s late and the call of the stars promises a little more comfort.

Rain would be thrilled at that amount of self-reflection. 

The old oil lamp he grabbed on the way flickers as he lights up an incense stick with a press of his fingerpads, setting both up on the floor in front of him. 

After, he settles comfortably into Aether‘s old armchair, right in front of the window. Hidden amongst Aether’s other belongings that he couldn’t squirrel away into his own room, the stars in the night sky welcoming him back through the glass. One brighter than the others, brighter than Sirius he likes to think, his very own guiding light. 

Watching over him. Waiting for him. 

As he recounts the constellations to himself in soothing murmurs, he traces the scar on his palm, swallowing heavily when he reaches the end before lacing his fingers together. A sad imitation of what used to be Aether’s hand engulfing his. His mind shifts to the moments he had been curled in Aether‘s lap in this very chair and played idly with his hands. Twisting his rings up and down his fingers. Tickling his palm. Relishing in their size difference, their thrumming bond, and Aether’s pleased chuffs. At times, simply lost in sharing their respective tribes’ folklore, awed at each other's way with words. At others, well…

He needs it more than ever now. That certain kind of warmth. That fullness, first and foremost in his heart. 

He yearns for it with every fiber of his infernal being. 

To be home.

Dew sinks further into the chair and a forgotten sense of calm washes over him. No longer is that sob stuck behind his sternum that burned as hot as the unshed tears in his eyes. No longer does he feel the urge to fight it when his eyes fall shut on their own accord. Slowly. Unhurried.

The strange coldness, coming from deep down inside him and radiating through his bones like an ache, starts to dissolve. Imperceptible, his charred skin lightens and his scarred gills heal from the fire damage.  A gift of appreciation by the Prince for his unwavering devotion. Not only to the seven but to his mate as well. 

Unbidden, he remembers the last time Aether prepared morning soup for him, is sure he can taste the perfection on the back of his tongue, and for once it doesn’t twist his insides into knots. 

He is too tired. So very tired and giving in feels so right like nothing has for too long. 

His star in the sky flares up fleetingly, and Dewdrop smiles softly to himself, the first real smile in what seems like an eternity, when he feels familiar, weightless hands rest lovingly on his shoulders. His head tilts instinctively towards the touch, dipping slightly into the sun-faded brocade of the chair cushion beside him. The merest hint of Aether‘s scent, and the salt of tears still lingering in the fabric, fill his nose. 

His prayers are granted at last.

Above the stars, below the flames; finally reunited. 

The affirmation of love Dew hasn‘t uttered out loud since, leaves him with a long, blissful sigh. 

„I belong to you, my starlight“

Akin to a kiss, barely there, floats a caress over Dew’s lips, making good on a promise. 

“Oh, my Firefly….I adore you”

With his mate’s awaited response, Dew’s chest falls peacefully for the last time. The last glowing ember turns gray. His soul follows Aether’s into the night.

Home. 

[senkus-cola]

i doodled eepy little guys :)

drawn for my mini-fic nepenthe but i also just felt like drawing these guys teehee

[yohanseyebrowmole]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 About me! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Hey, hey , hey! I'm Yor and I hope you have a nice stay ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 (she/her), slytherin, daughter of apollo, music lover, kpopie, bookworm, anime lover, INTP-T, Certified simp, Certified procrastinator.

ᡣ𐭩Dark Haired Targaryen lover (Crown Prince Jacaerys and Crown Prince Duncan, I'm talking about you guys!)

𐙚 STATUS: active

𐙚 REQUESTS: open

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 This blog may have 18+/mature content; please do not engage with these works if you're a minor; please proceed with caution! You will be blocked if I put my detective skills to the test and realise you are a minor!

[I don't have limits to my asks as of yet, but nothing too extreme, please. I will add anything that I am uncomfortable with onto here (and dont make them too long!]

𐙚 DMs are always open <3 (im in desperate need of friends)

To join tag list ⋆.˚ My wattpad ⋆.˚

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖊𝖝𝖕𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖜

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 [🌼 - Fluff] [🫦- smut] [⭐️ - Fav]

All of my fics are posted to Wattpad first as it is my main writing site. If anyone wishes for any book to be transferred over, please tell me so I can cross-post if necessary.

One-shots will likely be tumblr exclusive!

House of the Dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon

Moira ♧ The crown princess of Dorne and the crown prince of Westeros abhor each other until they don't ♧

Link to Wattpad

Aesthetics & Summary

This fic is being written on wattpad. Will likely be transferred over soon.

Nepenthes Aelora Targaryen was doomed. She was doomed from the moment she was born, for the mere fact that she was born a woman.

Link to Wattpad

Aesthetics & Summary

This fic is being written on wattpad.

Indelible I One Shot 🌼 ☆ Jacaerys realises he should have listened to you and told everyone about the two of you too late… Or was it too late? or in which Jacaerys breaks up with you two years after secretly dating you, and you get wind of his potential engagement to your cousin, the heir to your family's company.

Link to Fic

(More coming soon...)

Percy Jackson & The Olympians

Luke Castellan

Dum Spiro Spero The son of Hermes and the daughter of Apollo were always enough for each other. What happens when one of them starts yearning for more? Luke x Daughter of Apollo Star-crossed lovers

Link to Wattpad

Aesthetics & Summary

Prologue: His truest love and his greatest regret

Percy Jackson

Veni Vidi Vici In which, Lorelei Astra Cessair Irvine loved him first, but he would always love her more. Percy x Daughter of Thanatos TLT - TLO Full length fic

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Aesthetics & Summary

TLT: completed

SoM: currently writing...

This fic is being written on wattpad. Might be transferred over if people wish it so.

Cathartic Helena Alexandra Azara Colette gets thrown head first into a deadly quest with her boyfriend, Percy Jackson. Will they find happiness, or will they be forced to watch as their love crumbles before them? Percy x Daughter of Ares BOTL - TLO Full length fic

Link to Wattpad

Aesthetics & Summary

BoTL: completed

GCA: currently writing...

TLO: TBW

This fic is being written on wattpad. Might be transferred over if people wish it so.

Mon Amon Cara Asteria Callisto was the daughter of the moon and a huntress of Artemis. She knew of the world of the gods, the fates had always favoured her bloodline, not even the gods know why. She knew firsthand how cruel the fates could be but she never thought they would be as cruel as this. Percy x Daughter of Selene TTC - TLO Full length fic

Link to Wattpad

Aesthetics & Summary

TTC: completed

BoTL: currently writing...

TLO: TBW

This fic is being written on wattpad. Might be transferred over if people wish it so.

(More coming soon...)

Currently writing for:

Percy Jackson

Luke Castellan

Jason Grace

Jacaerys Velaryon

Lucerys Velaryon

Cregan Stark

Jake Sim (enhypen)

Others to be added

Random fics

(coming soon...)

More fandom/content to be added!

Made by Yor on the: 14/08/24

Last updated: 24/09/24

Dividers are Softcore Royalty by @thecutestgrotto

[cakeandruin]

Nepenthe (Jikook, E, 81k)

jikook fic

omegaverse (a/b/o dynamics)

one (1) werewolf (it's JK)

slow burn

strangers to friends to lovers

wild hearts falling in love

STORY COMPLETE!

Jimin is, without a doubt, the strangest omega in his pack. He doesn't want an alpha, he lives alone in a cave in the mountains far from the village, he doesn't listen to what he's supposed to do, or want, or need. But when a chance encounter leads to friendship with a real, actual alpha werewolf, his entire world is turned upside down in the blink of an eye - and he finds himself at the mercy of the threads of fate, and all the dangers they bring with them.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54819211/chapters/138949036

[fieri-sentio-et-excrucior]

writing pattern tag game

Yay, a fun new meme game! Thank you to @deathbyoctopi for tagging me!

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 posted fics and see if there’s a pattern.

Song Lan approached the house wearily. (from The Tell-Tale Art, a xuexiao fic)

Xiao Xingchen had never set foot in an establishment like this before. (from One Satisfied Customer, a xuexiao fic)

It was a spur of the moment robbery. (from Priceless, a xuexiao fic)

Nie Mingjue’s thighs ached. (from The Turn of the Season, a Niecest fic)

A musty smell hung around the coffin house, a long-brewed perfume with notes of damp and dust and decay. (from Nepenthe, a xuexiao fic)

It felt wrong, slipping the rope over his omega’s wrists. (from Too Late For Turning Back, a songxuexiao fic)

The sun was beating fiercely over Jinlintai, the smooth paving stones in the main square glinting in the bright light. (from The Tamed, a xuexiao fic)

He had eaten a lot of sweets. (from Blind Man’s Bluff, a xuexiao fic)

Song Lan had lost track of how long he had been searching for Xiao Xingchen. (from Wearing The Face Of My Enemy, a xuexiao fic)

In Jinlintai he had had everything he needed - unlimited test subjects, a large laboratory with plenty of storage space and, of course, lots and lots of jars. (from Waste Not, Want Not, a xuexiao fic)

Patterns: mostly short and to the point; the most flowery language was at the start of Nepenthe. Also I seem to mostly start with a character's POV; only Nepenthe and The Tamed start with a more general introductory description of the location. Hmm, interesting! Which catches the reader's attention and interest more, I wonder... I don't know.

Not tagging anyone specific, but if anyone reading this would like to have a go at the meme, please go for it! :)