#iii. STARTER. ( closed. )

[starcunin]

closed starter | @asangel

Astarion moves through the camp with the languid grace of a predator, his sharp eyes taking in the familiar sights of their haven: the crackling fire at the center, the bedrolls arranged in a loose circle, the quiet murmur of his companions engaged in hushed conversation. Yet tonight, his focus isn’t on them. His attention is drawn to the new addition—a figure whose presence has stirred more than mere curiosity in the vampire spawn.

Azariel sits apart from the others, a spectral figure of divine elegance beneath the pale light of the moon. The blue hues of his skin catch the firelight, shimmering like the surface of a twilight sea. His wings, now unfurled and free, stretch out behind him in a display of celestial power, the kind of power that hums just beneath the surface of his flawless skin. Astarion has to admit, there’s a certain allure to the demigod—a beauty that’s almost too perfect, too radiant to be of this world. But it’s not just the aesthetics that draw him in; it’s the scent, faint but distinct, of divinity that lingers around Azariel. The tantalizing thought of what his blood might taste like—rich with divine essence, an ambrosia few, if any, vampires had ever known—makes Astarion’s fangs ache with a hunger he hasn’t felt in some time.

But hunger alone isn’t what propels him forward. There’s something else, a shared understanding buried beneath the years of torment that they both endured at the hands of merciless captors. Astarion knows the pain of being reduced to nothing more than a tool, a means to an end. He knows the bitterness of having one’s freedom stolen, the endless days of suffering with no promise of escape.

Perhaps that is why he approaches Azariel now, with a practiced air of nonchalance, his lips curling into a faint smile as he steps into the demigod’s space. ❛ I imagine it must be quite the relief, ❜ he begins, his voice smooth and unassuming, ❛ to finally stretch those magnificent wings of yours after so long. I, for one, have always found that freedom—however fleeting—makes the world taste just a bit sweeter. ❜ His crimson eyes gleam with a mixture of curiosity and something darker, as he waits for the demigod’s response.

[h8fuckk]

closed starter | @lordgortrash

The streets of Baldur’s Gate are quieter than usual as the succubus approaches the grand estate. Shadows cling to the corners of the city like lurking memories, and the weight of her own failures presses heavier with each step. The stone path leading to Gortash’s domain feels endless, each footfall punctuated by the ache of her unresolved longing and the gnawing terror of what she is about to do. Her thoughts race, dark and stormy as the sky that looms overhead, full of threats she can neither predict nor avoid. Weeks have passed since she last saw Gortash, since he cast her out with a fury that sent a chill through her —— and a shame she hasn’t been able to shake since.

She had failed her patron. Her father——ugh, that fucking bastard. Failed him by not killing Gortash when she had the chance, and now? Well, she either needs a miracle or Gortash’s help and the two are practically one and the same.

Nepharia stops a few paces from the towering door, her breath shallow, her heart a reckless thrum in her chest. She hates being here, hates the sensation of vulnerability coiling in her gut like some venomous thing. She had walked these streets with the confidence of a predator, but now? Now she stands before Gortash’s gates with the bitter taste of defeat on her tongue. She hates that too ——— that he had made her feel something she couldn’t define, something that had shattered her resolve when she was so close to ending him. She had wanted to sink her claws into him, claim his soul as her own, deliver it to her patron and be rid of this mess.

But she hadn’t. She couldn’t.

Her clawed fists tighten at her sides as she watches the Steel Watcher, its cold, unblinking gaze locked on her, waiting. She could almost feel Gortash’s eyes through it —— studying her from the safety of wherever he watched, probably considering whether he should order it to tear her apart where she stands. Would he? She wonders. Does he still want me dead? A flicker of fear runs down her spine at the thought, but she crushes it quickly. She can’t afford to be afraid —— not of him. Not now.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she reaches into her bloodied cloak ( still damp with the bhaalspawn’s gore ) and pulls free the two Netherstones —— Orin’s and Ketheric’s. The weight of them is strange in her hands, a terrible power she feels thrumming beneath her skin. Power enough to stand against Zymimor? Power that could grant her the freedom she’s always craved. She holds them up to the Steel Watcher, the dim light from the estate casting a faint glint over the stones’ dark surfaces.

This is her offering. Her truce.

Nepharia swallows her pride, though it feels like swallowing glass, sharp and jagged in her throat. She waits, eyes narrowing in defiance even though desperation gnaws at her bones. She wonders if Gortash will laugh at her —— if he’ll even open the door at all. Maybe he’ll leave her to rot in the shadow of his estate, let the cold take her, or worse —— send her crawling back to her father in chains.

Damned and powerless, forever bound to the Abyss.

She suppresses a shudder and forces herself to stand taller, the Netherstones held steady before her. She has no choice but to come back to him now. She’s betrayed everyone else. Stolen the artefact, left her companions to whatever fate the Absolute has in store for them. There’s no one left for her to turn to, no one who could understand her hunger for freedom, for power, like Gortash. If he doesn’t take her in, if he doesn’t listen to what she has to offer, then she has nothing. And nothing terrifies her more than being alone with the crushing weight of her failures.

[riprachel]

the blonde's steps into arcadia bay's cemetery were feather light, unfathomable to the human ear, and with them she brought herself an arms length away from her friend. intrigue shows in narrowed eyes, which she fixed on the back of her friend's head and from there, surveyed the rest of them.    “ is this place ever going to move on? ”    she questioned, effectively breaking the silence amongst the headstones. however ally remembered her, is how she appeared. not a day over eighteen yet at the same time there was a maturity about her.

“ you're wasting your time crying to me—because i'm not even there. ”

@ncvabcrn ♡'d for a starter.

[lasplaga]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 ⇏ Encounter during the era of Umbrella Corps ( 2012 - 2013 ).

「𝔖」 SACRIFICE! The price to pay for resurrection must be drawn in the blood of the innocent! Humanity must atone for their ancient sins!

Hallowed spirits to replace the fragmented, the torn, THE DYING, so that the Everlasting God may finally be reborn. It was a sickly cycle of rebirth, but natural for a parasite who inflicted mass suffering, who drew power from leeching upon CELLULAR revitalization. --- Valdelobos, on behest of the calling of a dead martyr, a true descendant of Adam, demanded offerings. Bodies piled in the rot-afflicted region, but the flyblown mounds piling in the hundreds did not sate his hunger. Human informants were ordered to scout the globe for lambs to lead to the altar. Mercenaries that invaded were strewn of their armor & casted to the growing pile. Despite governmental interference, victims continued to disappear across Spain & beyond The Mediterranean. All lost to biohazard sanctions were deemed irretrievable by the local police, to not contribute to the slaughter --- but not for private agencies.

𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐂 was one of these aforementioned agents, soon to be unknowingly casted for the lot, to be part of a unified, ABOMINABLE 'whole'. Rescuing personnel from quarantined Umbrella Europe & Paris Laboratories drew him unfortunately close to the fray, Los Iluminados raiding the dismantled corporations for abandoned equipment --- & on rare occasion, human researchers who lingered where they were no longer welcome. Being transported to Rockfort Island for trespassing was no longer a concern after the prison was forsaken & overtaken by mutants. Now, being picked off by infected scavengers, enemies of the pharmaceutical company was the growing concern in the 21st century.

A quintal of flesh was his demand to end the bloody banquet. No longer would Osmund be incomprehensible in form, but remade into something that vaguely appeared as human. The consciousness that faded would resurface to the forefront, an amalgamation of departed spirits & persistent survivors which held a collective purpose. Though he did not thrive ( yet ), necrotized militants on his behalf swarmed the abandoned facility in France for search of fresh prey. By the shattering of glass & incoherent mumblings in Castilian, the presence of animalistic, cyanosis-ridden Ganados were made known. Needing their hunt to be delivered ALIVE, lethal means of execution were traded with tranquilizers.

[risenrage]

" i don't want to leave ," the past few days had been exactly what louis had needed. a quiet moment away from the madness that had torn apart his life. all the lies. they were blinding him, smothering the vampire into a place where he wanted to scream and tear the world apart ... find the very core and burn it until there was nothing left.

CLAUDIA WAS DEAD.

what did anything else matter. and he had been playing happy families with the one who had done it. blaming himself for being so very in love , still with lestat. maybe this was the way his life was meant to go , riddled by guilt. forever haunted by every mistake of his past. he knew nothing else , there was nothing else.

but lestat. maybe it would always be lestat , always finding a way back. even after they had torn each other apart. destroying one another from within , nothing left but them.

swallowing heavily , he wanted to figure himself out , something louis had never managed to do. always too lost in a relationship , romantic and familiar. never just having the chance to be louis. and maybe , he was okay with taking it slow. if it meant he could stay by lestat's side.

" i want to work on us ." finally he admitted , gaze falling wearily onto @unheald taking the smallest steps closer. still entirely unsure of where his love was inside his own head. hoping this was something they both wanted. " taking it slow. finding ourselves , and each other. all over again. "

maybe it was silly to think but , he wanted all the modern-day dating with lestat. learning exactly who this version , of his beloved was.

[stxrfclls]

𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 : @wnterreign​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ( sebastian manderly )

"  i  miss  acadia.  "  comes  the  voice  of  the  princess  as  she  gazes  up  at  the  ceiling  of  her  rooms.  it's  far  too  hot  to  be  outside  ,  in  her  mind  ,  and  while  her  mood  has  improved  the  stark  still  does  not  wish  to  traverse  halls  filled  with  people  angry  at  her  family  for  actions  outside  of  their  control.  "  but  she'd  be  miserable  here.  "  as  was  she  ,  training  in  dorne  had  sounded  incredible  ,  in  practice  it  was  miserable  and  the  wolf  longed  for  a  chill  of  cold  air  to  soothe  her  skin.

[edgecfeden]

closed for @bitingdcwn​ !

"come onnn, no one's going to care," paris insisted, pink lips pursing in a pout at felicia. she was trying hard to get her best friend to blow her, which usually wouldn't be a problem—but they weren't exactly alone. the beach was packed with a million other college students on spring break, or so it felt. anonymity in numbers, though, and all that. "you can't come out of the ocean looking all dripping wet and hot like that and expect me not to get turned on. besides, look, there's people actually fucking—" paris grinned as she nodded at a couple down the beach who clearly had zero inhibitions. "i'm just asking you to suck my dick." so far, but she felt like that was written between the lines.

[addolais]

when a boy has no life , it is a painful joy to watch the lives of others continue around him. the petty troubles of teenhood , the toll of daily work , the ache of love on the heart. trivial pains that the boy only now realised he had craved before. before was now so long ago. now was the present and the future , the spectral plain of his existence stretching out ahead with no defined ending. sometimes watching became too much.

away from monmouth , away from blue , away from the ley lines , his figure grows sullied ⸻ smudgy , as gansey was prone to noting. but the power of henrietta appeared to inhabit more than the gangsey. for some time he’d seen another ethereal character around town. she was not him , not another ghost , noah had established that. but what ? he did not know. perhaps in some distant past , he would have asked whelk. but that was the past and this was the present , the future.

the time had come to speak to her , building courage from the energy he grasped from the earth , to inhabit a corporeal form lest not to scare the stranger.

“ i’ve been watching you— ” dude , that’s fucking creepy. “ i meant ⸻ i’ve seen you around. henrietta. and … and the forests. you smell of cabeswater the forest. ”

starter ⸻ @appleyed

[achespink]

@2kyears : ❝ you’re going off road on the hiking trail, you know that ? you can’t be over here, mister ❞

[sparsilelove]

closed for now!! open to older men (30+) who bottom / orion has been trying to get your muse to sleep with him for a little while now, with your muse's most recent excuse being "you're not even old enough to drink yet" / assume any connection (talk to me about taboo options)

as the clock ticked over to 12:05, orion flicked off the tv and reached for his phone. his plan was cheeky, arrogant, and likely not going to work, but that was half the fun. he smirked as the line rang and his call was picked up. "hey, you. i'm officially twenty-one. what's your next excuse gonna be?"

[cheernerds-a]

@wiredsmile liked for a starter !

laughs   fell   out   of   plump   lips,   followed   by   the   call   of   suzie’s   name   as   the   cheerleader wrapped   her   arms   around   the   other,   leaning   her   chin   on   her   shoulder   and   smiling   just   from   being   this   close   to   her,   ❝   suzie,   let’s   go   do   something   fun   !   like   .   .   like   let’s   see   how   fast   we   can   drive   my car   before   the   cops   come   !   or   maybe   we   can   travel   to   another   place   that isn’t   this   shithole   !   ❞

[h8fuckk]

@sunderdust 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. ˎˊ˗

the   deep   ,   tattered   scars   on   her   back   have   long   since   healed   ,   scars   she   reveals   more   and   more   lately.    they’ve   been   facing   far   tougher   threats   here   in   baldur’s   gate   ,   and   she   wasn’t   helping   anyone   by   sulking   and   refusing   to   shift   ,   because   whether   her   grief   stricken   brain   allowed   her   to   believe   it   or   not   ,   she   was   still   a   lot   more   useful   in   her   true   form   in   combat   than   not   ,   with   or   without   her   wings.    and   though   finding   her   footing   ,   and   maneuvering   was   infuriatingly   difficult   at   first   ,   she’s   been   getting   the   hang   of   it.

she   stands   with   her   back   to   him   in   the   mirror   ,   completely   nude   within   the   privacy   of   their   room   at   elfsong tavern.    she’s   comfortably   nude   ,   for   once   just   existing   in   her   body   without   feeling   the   need   to   use   it   for   nefarious   reasons   or   even   sexual   ones   ,   at   least   —   not   in   this   moment.    she’s   contemplating   herself   ,   in   her   true   form   ,   glowing   hues   following   the   trace   of   her   sharply   clawed   fingers   along   the   ridges   of   her   hips   ,   tilting   her   horned   head   to   the   side   in   consideration.    she   misses   them   ,   so   much   —   but   ,   it   definitely   doesn’t   hurt   quite   as   badly   anymore   ,   seeing   herself   without   them.    her   eyes   meet   solomon’s   in   the   mirror   from   where   he   rests   on   the   bed   ,   and   she’s   reminded   of   how   the   thought   of   him   seeing   her   like   this   once   made   her   cringe.    but   he   looks   at   her   now   ,   and   she   doesn’t   ever   want   him   to   look   away.    she   feels   safe   and   adored   within   his   gaze.    somehow   ,   even   after   everything   she’s   done   ,   he   makes   her   feel   real.    he   makes   her   feel   alive.   after   years   of   feeling   so   mind-numbingly   empty.    gods   ,   she   doesn’t   deserve   him.   

❛   you   still   think   i’m   intimidating   ,   right   ?   ❜    she’s   teasing   ,   as   a   smirk   tugs   at   the   corners   of   plump   lips   and locking   onto   his   gaze   in   the   glass   of   the   mirror   ,   but   there   is   a   correct   answer   —   the   correct   answer   is   to   stroke   her   ego��  and   tell   her   what   she   wants   to   hear.    only   this   time   ,   the   threat   of   not   saying   what   she   wants   to   hear   doesn’t   rest   behind   an   icy   ,   monstrous   stare , ❛ i’m still the meanest , scariest bitch in faerûn ? ❜ she wants him to play along , but she also hopes that he doesn’t think it of her personally — she hopes never to make him personally afraid of her again , if she can avoid it.

[riprachel]

“ once again, fate throws us together. ”

@scarletcursed ♡'d for a starter.

[lasplaga]

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 ⇏ The outsider has trespassed the village & awaits judgement.

「𝔖」 ALL WERE GIVEN A RIGHT TO FAIR TRIAL, but the tribulations began at the iron works, imprisoned in the depths below. Encased behind unyielding bars of steel & shackled with heavy chains --- few choices remained : To fight for survival against this nigh immortal army of undead, retrieving weapons & ammunition, littering the grounds of Valdelobos RED. Scavenging stolen gear & attempting to escape the mountainous region alive. Or, as the presence of their FALSE GOD grew closer with gut-wrenching steps down the stairwell, entertain the possibility of being set free, unharmed, by their own volition. If not BARGAIN A DEAL, depending upon what circumstances landed Jill in this nightmarish Hellhole. Was she seeking The Cult DELIBERATELY?

Lord Saddler had no formal knowledge of Jill Valentine & the description of her infringe upon his Kingdom left much to the imagination. Parchment papers in regards to her prowess & organization were uncomfortably BLANK. Whatever the cost, he intended to gather information on the reasoning of her intrusion. This fine religious community was isolated from the rest of the world, & FOR GREAT REASON.

Humans --- he assumed of her biology, were a danger to them, & continuously proved to be a danger. But on the occasion an unknowing tourist happened to trip their way past barbed wire, cement blocks & metal snares, two possibilities were presented depending if lots had been casted : Swift ritual sacrifice, or deliverance to the outskirts of the forest. Outsiders who sought them WILLINGLY out of good faith were such a rarity, they could not put their continuous survival as a species to chance.

As the existence of mutants were stifled under the public eye to prevent mass civilian panic, there was not much of a concern if kidnapped victims broadcasted their unfortunate experience ; Being ambushed by Ganado with tranquilizers & then jailed in the decrepit factory ( for now ) beyond the quarantine marker. The reality of demons, or possessed spirits, were seen as nothing more than conspiracy theories or folk legends. Those who perpetuated such stories were dubiously believed, or seen as kooks.

The outsider was bound to wake up soon, if not awake already, Lord Saddler in tow with an olive branch : Scraps of fresh food & a bowl of clean water. Humans, as he understood, perished in days if not provided --- & the only good use of a human corpse was for eating.

[gunsmiths]

𝚃𝙰𝙶 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌 : 

[stxrfclls]

𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 : @wnterreign ( katerina blacktyde ) "Do you really want to put yourself through this?"

hugo  knows  they'd  yet  to  really  talk  ,  despite  having  crossed  paths  several  times  at  this  point.  he'd  been  afraid  to  broach  anything  else  ,  to  question  if  she  was  comfortable  with  the  arrangement  and  what  their  future  would  be.  but  it  seemed  the  little  ironborn  was  set  to  surprise  the  bear  today  ,  her  question  being  met  with  surprised  eyes.  the  lord  takes  a  moment  to  respond  ,  not  wishing  to  mistake  his  thoughts.  "  if  i  were  not  willing  ,  i  would  not  be  attempting  to  get  to  know  you  ,  katerina.  "  he  begins  ,  uncertain  if  even  that  was  the  right  thing  to  say.  gods  ,  he  probably  should  have  asked  hugo  and  mav  for  help  with  this.  "  we  are  quite  some  way  from  all  of  that  ,  but  i  think  we  could  have  a  peaceful  future  together.  "  did  that  even  sound  good  ?