#moonlight glaive
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woodspurg · 1 year ago
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I decided to do Temperance for Karlach's card. She's by no means temperate (figurately or literally, har), but I thought of the card in terms of tempering metal in a forge, of pounding and folding under extreme temperatures until the result is something stronger. Her cups are crucibles and her corona reflects the spikes of the Grymforge helm. I kept the wings from the card but posed her like Michael as she descends into Avernus to defeat death.
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quinn-of-aebradore · 1 year ago
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I think I’m gonna respec Shadowheart to be a light cleric now that she’s forsaken Shar. Was already planning to multiclass her paladin for that (considered Oathbreaker since it fits in name but mechanically it doesn’t, so probably gonna go Ancients instead) but a cleric subclass switch also makes sense 🤔
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baldursheart · 1 year ago
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freya favours the moonlight glaive for three reasons:
pretty
helps chase away the nightmares & dark thoughts in the late night
never has to carry a god damn torch ever again
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husband-steve-cortez · 2 years ago
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Also this doesn't matter but I've decided Alim could just as easily do a pure intelligence build as a dragon bleed build.
Dragon spells are really, really cool and powerful and showy and the whole "bloodflame" vibe is very Alim, and I think weapons like the uchigatana, the grave scythe, regalia of echoiad and in particular Eleanora's poleblade (thought that's more dex/arcane) really fit him.
But also, on an int build moonlight greatsword is like, the most weapon ever to a point that you barely need your spells, and the sheer power of it and the general vibe of being a moonlight sorcerer channeling the power of the stars is also really appealing. And the showy devastation of like, meteor of astel (which I only just got and haven't played around with too much), the potential you can get from comet azure if the stars align, the gintblade sorceries, all are good and I think fits the dragon age arcane warrior vibe of mostly being a mage who can melee.
(This is reminding me that in bloodborne I made Alim a bloodtinge/arcane build lol)
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marlowe-art · 9 months ago
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shadowheart & the moonlight glaive
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eldritchelfwriter · 3 months ago
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Chapter 19 of Shadowheart Begins now out
Sleep does not come easy that night. Shadowheart lays awake for a long time, thinking of her parents, what she will say to them when they meet, what condition they will be in … wondering if they will even want to see her.
She walks the animals in the morning, just to keep up a small semblance of normality before her life changes, yet again.
Then she dons her armour and gloves, and picks up the moonlight glaive, turning it over in her hands. It will be Selune’s divine power that she will wield in the heart of the Sharrans cloister today, along with Selune’s own weapon. It feels strange, but … right, somehow.
“Shadowheart!” a voice calls, and Shadowheart is surprised to see Isobel rushing toward her, and suddenly enveloping Shadowheart in a hug. “Good luck,” Isobel whispers. “I’ll be thinking of you, and if your parents need any help when they return with you, I’ll be right here and waiting.”
“Thank you, Isobel,” Shadowheart says, touched by her thoughtfulness. And then Florwyn is at her side too, looking slightly unprepared when Isobel, whom Florwyn doesn’t know very well, gives her a brief hug and a whispered “good luck” too.
“Isobel …” Shadowheart says quickly to stop the cleric before she dashes off again – and before she loses her own courage. “Could you … say something, before we go?”
“Like what?” Isobel says, frowning.
“Just something to …” Shadowheart clears her throat. “… your goddess.”
Isobel blinks, and Florwyn looks at her sideways, but neither make comment.
Isobel touches her arm while Shadowheart’s face burns, and says softly: “Let the moon be your light, and your glaive be a shining symbol of Our Lady in the dark. Moonmaiden, bring Shadowheart and her parents home, the gods know they deserve it. May your light guide Shadowheart and her friends and bring them all safely back.”
“Thank you,” Shadowheart breathes, when the prayer ends.
“The Moonmaiden guide your steps, dear friend,” Isobel whispers, leaving them to prepare for their departure.
READ MORE:
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the-journey-was-the-point · 4 months ago
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Elladan's Prologue
A short snippet about my OC Callonduin, but told from Elladan's POV.
Summary: Elladan has been restless ever since the disappearance of a particular Elf. His brother decides to check on him. Relationships: Elladan & Elrohir, implied (onesided)Elladan/Callonduin
“Still worried about Callonduin?”
Elrohir scaled the last few steps uphill to reach his brother who stood on the highest peak in Imladris, his sharp elven eyes scouring the surrounding forest. Elladan had been in a melancholic mood as of late. No one knew what troubled Elrond’s eldest son, no one but Elrohir, for he knew his brother better than anyone. 
Following his brother’s silence, Elrohir spoke once more. “Come now. You can’t think I don’t see the connection between his disappearance and your sudden interest in scouring the Trollshaws on your own?”
In all honesty, though Elrohir was confident in his theory, he couldn’t see why Elladan would be so invested in Callonduin of all people. While it was true they grew up around each other, the twins of Imladris had never been particularly close to the ellon in question. Furthermore, though Callonduin was a skilled warrior, he was also known to be a bit unstable– often inebriated, repeatedly disregarding orders, and prone to reckless behavior. 
But then again, in all honesty, Elrohir got the feeling that Elladan recently became more secretive. 
“Callonduin is… known to be a bit, er, eccentric,” the younger twin tried once more. “It’s definitely not the first time he’s gone off on his own. Why, I’m certain if we ask around Bree we’ll catch wind of a rowdy ellon–”
“I already searched Bree, Elrohir,” Elladan cut in, impatient and agitated. “He’s not there. And it’s been a month. The seasons are changing, the cold will be upon us soon and Callonduin is traveling alone–”
Elladan abruptly restrained himself. He stilled and set his eyes once more upon the forest, searching for any sign of orcs or a glaive-wielding elf who laughed. 
Elrohir observed his brother for a moment before placing a hand on his shoulder.  “Callonduin is a trained warrior, just like you and I,” he said. “He’s resilient. He won’t be felled by a bit of snow.” Then in an attempt to lighten the mood, Elrohir added, “If he’s not in Bree, then he’s probably asleep under a table somewhere else, passed out from all those tankards he likely downed.”
In all honesty, Elladan preferred it if that were the case. Better Callonduin be blacked out in some human inn than captured by the foul beings that ran amok throughout Middle Earth. This was because Elladan knew what others didn’t: that Callonduin’s reckless behavior was much worse than the rest of them thought, for the elf had, for quite a while now, a tendency to sneak out of Rivendell at night to take down entire orc camps alone. 
And in all honesty, Elladan knew this because he had the same tendency. Things had been difficult since his mother, Celebrían, was tortured by orcs. The twins developed a terrible lust for slaying orcs, and though they promised their father to stop, Elladan found it was too difficult and continued to do so in secret. 
One night he left to take down a orc camp he'd scouted. Callonduin was already there when he arrived, and in the moonlight, Elladan saw that he was laughing.  Unrestrained, soaked in orc blood, and laughing.
Elladan closed his eyes.
“I heard from Lindir that Callonduin was supposed to meet his father and brother in Lothlórien next spring. I certainly hope he doesn’t mean to cross the Misty Mountains alone.” 
Elrohir’s expression turned somber. “I’m sure Callonduin is not so reckless as to attempt that," then as if he just heard himself, Elrohir quickly amended, “How about this: I will help you search for him. It is better than letting you do it alone.”
Elladan hesitated for a moment before turning to face Elrohir. “Are you sure?”
Elrohir smiled, wrapping a comforting arm around the elder twin. “Of course. Don’t carry this burden alone, Elladan. Your family is here with you.”
Elladan allowed himself to smile and relax in his brother’s hold. 
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spyridonya · 1 year ago
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i will be an enabler. “ may i have this dance? “ for sophus and raphael could be fun maybe? 👀
oh my god i have an enabler than enabled me to write over 1500 words for the first time in months, thank you romeo! ❤️ first time trying to write in 2nd person, which normally isn't my thing, but we'll just blame the game's narrator.
sacred romantic raph being an ass moments meme
The uncanny stillness of the eternal gloom seeps into flesh and bones, even under the shelter of lacy moonlight. The sensation of coiling vastness would disquiet any soul, yet you find yourself reminded of the antipeak hours of your home when the wane of the luminescence leaves all to lantern light. This is not an unknown concept to the singular tadpole that remains coiled just behind your eye; you are both creatures of the planes on the most molecular level. The lapping sounds of water are still alien to your ears despite its gentleness, it's the strumming of Alfira's lute from far away that puts you at ease, the lazy notes falling like snowflakes upon your nerves, and the bard none the wiser.
The sound of teleportation makes your tadpole jump, though years of training that keeps you from the startle from rolling down your body, and keeping you still as a stone as the notes continue to waver in the air, the commotion too far for Alfira's attention. But that moment of panic is brief, you recognize the sound of this particular user.
It's not that uncommon of a skill, most arcane weavers can attest the sounds of a teleportation spell are based from it's point of origin. You wouldn't know the difference between the sounds of the Elemental Plane of Water from the Heavens, but you know the sounds of the Lower Planes. You won't ever forget the horrific timbre that aches like a soul shredded between rusty gears. 
You knew it long before the cambion set eyes upon you and yours upon him.
You don't give him the satisfaction of turning to him, presenting the solid wall of your back to him, a move that would have your comrades in the Cage mutter as if you had gone addled in the brain-box. An action that would make your current comrades mutter as if you had gone mad. 
The cambion’s steps are slow and purposeful against the ancient wood, making Raphael sound heavier than a man his size should be.
It's an old rage that makes your hand move, and your arms follow as the glaive swings. The weight feels sluggish in your hands, though the powerful muscles of your arms and the twist of your torso carry the motion until the blade just stops at the cambion's throat. Above the blade, Raphael grins, his teeth white against the copper of his skin.
You hate acknowledging how fetching that smile is, as if he were not your elder by millennia in truth and decades by appearance. That coyness is so strange and you find the pulse in your throat is throbbing as if you're the one with blade point against skin.
"Such unfathomable treatment of a guest, my dear boy. One would think you're displeased to see me."
"Whatever made you believe that, princeling?" You grit out; you know he's a cambion but not his sire. But cambions do not become this powerful without some false pride of their mastris on their tongue. You have your notions, but don't speak them.
"Ah, Sophus, you wound me- or have attempted at the least." Raphael chuckles lightly, his hand gently pushing the pole of the glaive from him in a slow arch, and you allow him to do so. Those heavy footsteps creak against the planks of the old dock once more, “You seem most eager to create of me an adversary.” Your gaze is hard as it narrows down upon the human form of the cambion, despite how you lower your weapon.
Raphael stops at his comfortable distance, a sentiment not entirely shared by you as your muscles tense. The cambion does not bring a rhyme to the curl of his lips nor show the flash of his teeth, he merely studies you with that coy gaze of his as darkness shrouds his amber eyes. “What are you here for?” You ask, knowing his old enemy is dead and in the Hells. Suddenly, you remember the child and your hand tightens on your weapon, “Not the girl, not Mol.”
“For all your sharp teeth, little mouse, you forget yourself and your mind. You know as well as me that such investment in a child would never mature so rapidly.” He lifts his arms in a shrug, the motion muscle under the doublet that he wears is noticeable, “Let her grow, let her learn. Isn’t it far safer for her to know the dealings of the law than the grind of the Abyss?” A striking motion of his hand, and his amber gaze meets your steel. “No, no. Do not think that of me. Rather, I came to offer something else.”
You mutely realize that your back is to the water while the cambion’s to the Last LIght Inn. And yet Alfira’s music still floats about you, defying the stillness of the gloom and the tension of your body. Yet, all Raphael does is smile, offering his hand. His fingers look refined, straight, the tendons perfect and nothing like a man approaching his 50th turn of the spire, much less his possible 2500th.  “May I have this dance?”
There’s no humor in the high cheek bones nor his knowing smile, only a curious tilt of his brows. And he holds this pose for a moment, and you think you will out wait him when he realizes what he’s begun. Your mind flickers to Wyll and the rejection on his face as you turn your head from his dance. You rejected a good man, a good person. 
Your arms lift over your head, to return the glaive to it’s strap on your back and carefully you take Raphael’s hand. 
"I dare not ask if you are aware of any Calimshite dance,” Raphael responds and to his credit, he does not leer at the small triumph he’s won, “Such a question would be an insult to us both. However, a Havana based box step may be unfamiliar in name, but perhaps not in motion?"
The cambion's hand is warm in yours, his hand steady on your hip, yours upon his, and blood hammers in your ears as you follow his first step all the while your mind screams to stop.
In no time at all, you are led into a dance as Alfira continues to play to her unknown audience of two. Raphael is right, you may not know the name, but you know the motions and the damnable cambion knows each step - practiced until perfect. 
“In terms of asking a question that would insult either one of us, what are you getting at, Raphael?” You ask quietly, not sure what the tieflings above you in the inn would think of such dance or the intimacy of a cambions warmth not quite against your body. You try not to think of it as well, your mouth straight, your eyes narrow - even if old shames creep into your mind - a moment of wondering if the cambion truly likes what he sees. 
Or what he can harvest from you. 
“A planer-touched greeting to his fellow kin, even if we’re not entirely neighbors.” He replies with that charming grin as he leads you from the length of the dock that stretches over the water and closer to to the shallows that lead up into the Inn. “What is after this grand, heroic gesture of yours? Do you perhaps have a faction in the Cage that would approve of such?” The cambion’s grin stretches, seeing the line on your face, the lowering of your eyes. “I could help you get home… if you wish to go home.”
That is when you stop, that is when you pull away, your heavy steps creaking under you, not trusting the way your body reacts to the question and the way you breathe through your nose. 
Raphael does not look insulted, not ashamed, not even smug with that little curve of his smile. Rather he stands straight and tall, though he barely reaches your chin, and regards you in a way that makes you feel small despite your being far taller and larger. 
You find you want to wipe this expression of his face, hold him down and-
“I do not take silence as a no, little mouse,” The irony of that nickname isn’t lost, “Nor a yes… but an aasimar hiding as a half elf can only keep the ruse for so long, if only to himself. This is not your home, Sophus Firesbane. This place is so alien to your senses and to the powers that call themselves gods offend your sense of fairness.” The cambion takes a step back, then another, and this time you don’t follow, “Perhaps even more than you are offended by me.” And his tone becomes rumbly smoke, “Though I don’t believe you’re as offended by me as you wish you were.”
You don’t strike this time, though your arm aches to move. Once more you glare, “My oath is far more important than your promises.” From all that you’ve learned about fiends, you know how prized a paladin soul truly is to fiendkin. Including cambions with powerful sires never spoken.. 
“That oath of yours,” Raphael shakes his head, the dark mahogany of his hair almost tumbling from its perfect coif. “You’ve a long way in the darkness ahead, little mouse. Perhaps this will be a conversation for another time, if you survive.”  There is a scent of brandy, cherries, and sulfur that sours the sweetness - and the sound of souls being torn by rusty iron gears. “I hope that you do.” 
Once more you find yourself almost alone in the darkness, save for your silent and comfortable tadpole.
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undeadorion · 1 month ago
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BG3 update: Broke into House of Hope. Crawford doesn’t undress on command so he fought the incubus instead. I had to do the fight multiple times because I kept accidentally blasting him off the balcony outside and I needed his key. Got the hammer. It’s weaker than the moonlight glaive, but I guess it’s necessary. Freed Hope. Fought Raphael. Kept everyone alive except for Crawford at the very end. Wyll does the most damage out of everyone with a single cantrip. Gale is still in his stupid gay cowboy outfit.
Raphael is so narcissistic that not only does he literally fuck himself (as multiple genders), he’s involved in his own fight music.
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bluheaven-adw · 1 year ago
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Eclipse, Moonlight, Shadow Portal, KLEB 😊
I had this all typed out and accidentally hit something and lost it 😭
Eclipse: angor rot. I got this one previously.
Moonlight: gnome chompsky!
Shadow portal: heartstone trollmarket, but a side trip to Stuart's taco truck because I want to try a diablo maximus breakfast burrito and some tacos
KLEB
yay! Ok... Jim surfs and is halfway decent at it. Not in any serious capacity, like he doesn't own his own board or anything, but Arcadia is close to the coast and it's probably something they did on summer break. Because you can't tell me that this kid who rode his shield down a steep and bumpy rock wall with easy skill and perfect balance while summoning and then throwing his glaives at Nomura, has never once been surfing.
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wlwaerith · 1 year ago
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shadowheart having a crisis of faith post gauntlet:
me putting her in selûnite leathers, equipping her with the moonlight glaive and putting the charm of the moonmaiden on her: hehe
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consultingpacha · 1 year ago
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After a long hiatus due to work and some mental health ups and downs, I resurfaced through Baldur’s Gate 3. DnD has become one of the few things to keep my metaphorical head above the proverbial water, and so I’ve been sketching once more one of my Tavs, because I have grown fond of him enough that he’s living rent free in my mind, firmly cuddled in a sandwich between Halsin and Astarion.
(I will go back to my usual Bagginshield business soon enough, but the reprieve is being most welcome, so bear with me for a little)
I thought introductions might be in order, since yall might see him around, so. This is Adar’el, a Selûnite cleric + oath of vengance Paladin tiefling, in a mission to avenge the selûnite woman who took him off the streets and cared for him since he was a teen, murdered by sharans.
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As a companion, he would have an owlette called Lûar, which belonged to the selûnite elf that took him in. He would also get a bamf scythe (in game there are none, sadly, so he goes for a long sword or the moonlight glaive)
In game, he romances Astarion in a very “if you insult my boyfriend you will taste the might of the gods” kind of way, and most of the time will tank the fight and get all damage on him so the rest of the party can go around killing baddies.
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I might be posting more stuff about him in the future, because the grip this game (and Adar’el) has on me is honestly shameful 😅
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commander-diomika · 1 year ago
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Fandom - Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing - Shadowheart/Lae'zel Wordcount - 1730 Tags - Kinktober 2023, Scent Kink, Blood, Cunnilingus, Finger Sucking, Hate Sex, Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Shadowheart never really says yes she just doesn't say no, you know? that kind of dubious consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot Summary - Lae'zel wants to be the one cleaning the blood from Shadowheart's skin after battle.
*** Minthara had died bloody yet silent. That was the part that Shadowheart kept coming back to. She hadn’t even screamed as Lae’zel’s glaive whipped through a goblin and came screeching back up in an arc, cleaving Minthara from navel to throat. Shadowheart had been on the other side, holding steady with Tav behind her. She hadn’t flinched when the spray of drow blood splattered her shield, her face, her hair.
She had been trained not to flinch.
Her mace and shield leant against a tree behind her, moonlight soaking into the red-black spray of Minthara’s dying moment. She would clean those later. The armour, already doffed and carefully polished, took priority, but there was still blood in her hair. On her hands. It had splattered onto her face, dripped down her neck…
The rivulet the party had camped by would be cold, but bathing under cover of darkness in a cool river was as easy as breathing. She peeled off her undershirt and pants. Standing naked in the moonlight, Shadowheart took a moment to breathe, and to open her heart to Lady Shar.
The fire, the heart of her strange crew’s little campsite, was well behind her through the trees. It was just her and Lady Shar out here, and she’d wandered far down the path to find solitude. Astarion was already out hunting. Karlach was on watch. Tav knew to respect her privacy. Gale and Wyll, she suspected, were still afraid of her. They thought that forbidden Sharran ideals might infect them should they come too near to her moonlit bathing. Superstitious little boys who didn’t understand anything past their own fields of expertise.
That meant the soft, leather-shod footfalls behind could only be one person. She took a deep breath in through her nose.
“What do you want?” She didn’t turn, and the footsteps didn’t falter.
Shadowheart could have lunged to snatch up her mace. She envisioned it clearly, a scene in high contrast under the harsh light of the moon. The weight of the handle, comforting in her hand as she attacked, the blood-encrusted flange crunching into that smug face.
“You know what I want.” Lae’zel replied, now close enough to Shadowheart’s back that she felt the hair on her neck shift with the gith’s breath.
Maybe not the mace then. Maybe the dagger set down with her clothes, another spray of blood for an already red-drenched day. Her eyes stayed closed and her breath didn’t hasten as her mind's eye was briefly filled with another arc of startling red.
As tempting as the vision was, deep in her heart of hearts? She knew she would lose that fight. Did the gith bleed red? She’d yet to even see Lae’zel take a wound that would answer that question.
So Shadowheart didn’t lunge for the dagger, or the mace, as Lae'zel shifted her heavy braid onto one shoulder, and leaned into the other.
Lae'zel took a slow, deliberate breath in through her snub nose, and it sent prickles washing over Shadowheart’s pale skin. “It would be a shame for the river to be the only one to taste my kill on your skin.”
She shifted closer, tongue darting out to touch the side of Shadowheart’s neck. Lae'zel’s mouth was warm, but the cool night air chilled the wet spot left behind by her tongue. Shadowheart shuddered.
Lae'zel returned to the same spot, this time mouth opening wider, lips forming a seal and tongue lapping against the skin, and with a lurch Shadowheart realised there was a bloodstain there, splattered in a furious burst, where it had dripped down her face and dried, only for a fervent tongue to moisten it. To take it in.
“Your hands.” Lae’zel commanded. Her voice was icy and Shadowheart thought of resisting, for one short moment. She could walk away from this feral woman, this animal, lapping blood off her neck and demanding more.
Shadowheart turned away from the watching eye of the moon; the cool light washed Lae’zel’s golden eyes out. There was a luminous grey flash of stars reflected, before her gaze dropped to Shadowheart’s hands. Blood and ichor stained them from wrist to fingertip, worn into the grooves of the knuckles, in the dry riverbeds of her palm lines. Lae’zel took in the sight, her pupils tightening in sick anticipation.
She licked those filthy hands like a woman starved. Holding one in a bone-creaking grip she laved her tongue over the back, ravenous, tongue finding the spaces between fingers and- it was disgusting, riveting, the sensation of wet meat drawn across her sensitive palm.
Lae’zel was making little growling sounds as she guzzled the blood off every place her tongue could reach. Her eyes were closed; it was like Shadowheart wasn’t even there. Teeth scraped the skin of the big muscle of the palm, like she was trying to scrape every last piece of gristle off a chicken leg.
Shadowheart felt… dazed by it. If anyone had ever been so hungry for Shadowheart’s skin before, she could not remember it. She was sick with something like want, stomach swooping at the feeling of a tongue rolling over the pads of her fingertips.
Lae’zel sucked two fingers all the way into her mouth, and Shadowheart moaned.
She gasped, shocked at the noise that escaped her, her free hand flying to her mouth, wet with smudged blood and spit, and Lae'zel’s eyes snapped open. Beautiful golden eyes. They pinned her in place like a dagger through the palm.
Lae’zel was feral, delighted, as though she’d caught an opening in an enemy’s defense. She leant in closer, mouth red and shining, and licked a long stripe up Shadowheart’s cheek. “I want to smell you. I want your scent. I want your sweat in my nose, down my throat.” She pulled Shadowheart in close, gripping her wrist hard. “Are you going to stop me?”
“You’re disgusting.” Shadowheart didn’t meet her eyes, or pull away.
“Chk. That is not an answer. Do you want me to stop?” Lae’zel’s eyes were mocking.
She didn’t respond, and that was enough of an assent for Lae'zel to press her advantage. She turned them both in an elegant mockery of dance, pushing until Shadowheart’s back was flattened against a tree. Without pause Lae'zel lifted Shadowheart’s hand above her head, and jammed her face into the revealed armpit, inhaling deeply.
Shadowheart squirmed against the rough bark, biting back a shriek at the invasion. She could fight back. She could. Lae’zel’s tongue licked through the hair there – like a cat grooming itself – Shadowheart thought desperately, but something about the sensation of a tongue in her armpit shot arousal straight through her, and the shriek in her throat turned into a moan, her legs to goo beneath her. If not for the hand around her wrist she may have collapsed all the way to the grassy ground.
Lae’zel tasted her fill, and Shadowheart didn’t resist as her other arm was raised. Lae’zel worshiped, drawing in deep, satisfied breaths as she made a wet mess of the aroma, the tastes, that she found there.
What defiance might have been left in Shadowheart was draining away, pooling into lust, throbbing in her belly. She could feel the slickness between her legs as Lae’zel moved her again, pushing her to a flat rock by the riverside.
Demanding, overwhelming hands shoved her down, pushed her thighs apart, and when Lae’zel’s bloody mouth found her slit she didn’t fight. She didn’t fight Lae’zel, or the moan rising desperately from her throat. When that determined tongue licked her from asshole to apex, she let out a shriek into the dark night.
Lae’zel mouth was merciless, hands finding a grip on the plush curve of Shadowheart’s hips and fastening there, holding on to prevent an escape she was no longer capable of making. Lae'zel plunged in, sucking all the soft flesh into her mouth and moaning, those sounds of delight and dominance indistinguishable from those that she’d moaned around bloody fingers in her mouth.
Shadowheart was lost in it. Unthinking, her hands scrabbled against the rock, tangling in Lae'zel’s hair, yanking against the hands and their pinprick of nails against her skin. But Lae’zel was all sinewy muscle, as immovable as the boulder they were splayed upon. Her tongue was relentless, flicking and laving, lips sucking and squeezing the flesh between them in an agony of pleasure.
Shadowheart didn’t want her to stop, but she also didn’t want her to win. Pinned down with a sharp mouth buried in her cunt certainly felt like a losing position. As her thighs began to shake with the building pleasure, she felt that defeat looming, Lae’zel pressing one advantage after another.
Shadowheart’s hands stopped their desperate roaming, and her hips rolled and bucked into Lae’zel’s hungry mouth. Her orgasm stalked up behind her despite her attempts to evade, roiling waves overcoming her.
As she came, her head dropped back, eyes finding the unblinking eye of the moon. Forgive me, Dark lady. For what, she wasn’t sure.
Lae’zel eyes were pinpricks, mouth shining and chest heaving as she clambered up Shadowheart’s body and straddled her. She grabbed a fistful of Shadowheart’s hair and yanked their faces together, sealing her victory with a kiss.
Shadowheart tasted her own arousal on Lae’zel’s tongue. She tasted blood, and she opened her lips helplessly to Lae’zel’s salty, biting mouth.
**
The sound of Shadowheart’s pleasure, a pained, defeated yowl, was easy enough to hear back by the fire, where Karlach and Wyll kept watch in companionable silence.
The noise might have been cause for alarm if it wasn’t familiar by now.
Karlach looked sidelong at her friend. “Should we… do anything about that?”
Wyll gave a helpless shrug. “What, go bang pots at them like a pair of stray dogs?”
Karlach gave a bark of laughter, then tilted her head to say, fair point. “That’s exactly what it sounds like.”
“I’m just glad they’re not fighting anymore. If this is the alternative to the whole “knives to throat at midnight,” business, I’ll take it.”
Karlach nodded. “Hey, maybe next time they stalk off like that, I should go watch.”
“For their own good, of course.” Wyll’s eye glinted devilishly in the firelight.
“Of course.”
His mouth twitched in a desperate attempt to thwart a smile. “Alright, but I’m not protecting you from either of them if you get caught.”
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aemcroberts · 4 months ago
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🌟✨ Chapter 32: The Death of Eternity ✨🌟
This chapter marks the poignant conclusion of Silver Millennium: Forbidden Bonds. Witness the desolate aftermath of Saturn's Silence Glaive, as entire worlds are left in ruins. In a final act of love, Queen Serenity sacrifices everything for her daughter's future, sending her star seed on a journey to the Galaxy Cauldron—a testament to love that transcends time and space.
Join me in this emotional farewell and explore the complete ebook for free! 🌙
👉 Download your free copy
But the adventure continues! Dark Kingdom: Shattered Moonlight starts on August 16th. 📅 New chapters will be released every Tuesday and Thursday, promising fresh perspectives and thrilling narratives.
Thank you for your incredible support and for being part of this journey. 💖 Stay tuned for more exciting stories!
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hunterwritesstuff · 6 months ago
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Voice headcanons? Like normal voice hcs lol
Oooh! Good choice!
Boombox: Wally Franks(BATIM)
Biograft: The funky robots from Mitchels vs the machines.
Medkit: Red Guy(DHMIS)
Banhammer: I DON'T KNOW, I CAN'T FIND TOO MANY GOOD VOICES WITH A SOUTHERN ACCENT :(
Subspace: Medic TF2.
Scythe: Rye Cookie(English dub)
Vine Staff: Betty Adventure time, I think. Or Fionna Adventure Time. One of the two.
The Broker: Spamton, THIS ONE SPECIFICALLY.
Rubberhose: He TECHNICALLY has TWO because his voice changes slightly between forms. Phighting form: Transmutate from transformers beast wars, Calm form: Hunter Owl House
Bitcrusher: Scout TF2? Scout TF2. But older. Obviously.(Not final, Bitcrusher is hard to nail down because I have a SPECIFIC WAY he sounds in my head)
The Butcher: Exposing my music tastes here, but he sounds like the male singer in "Shoulder boulders" or Tan's animated series Batter, EPISODE TWO SPECIFICALLY
Dolly: Lottie(Princess and the frog)
Venomshank: TFA Blitzwing, Icy SPECIFICALLY.
Snowy: Princess Celestia
Reeler: Nathan Arch(BATIM)
Ballete: Fluttershy
Cam: Captain Haddock from TinTin the animated series. Trust me.
Reporter: Mirror Man from Opal but he's not a shitty dad.
Knitter: Moonlight Cookie(English dub, duh)
Smoker: Zuko
Cueball: King Dice(Cuphead animated show)
Butterfly Knife: Princess Cadence, assigned with love <3
Pool Noodle: Jay ninjago, sorry pookie </3
Glaive: Gabriel Ultrakill.
Siren: Adagio Dazzle
Miniaxe: Dick Grayson BTAS
Cutlass: Lake Infinity Train
Shotgun: Millicent Elden Ring
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seluniite-archived · 1 year ago
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Eira always has a quarterstaff or glaive equipped (she eventually acquires the moonlight glaive as her main weapon) but she mostly relies on magic because she's clumsy to fight. But she will bonk an enemy's legs so they lose balance and fall prone.
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