#shemurder
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"Your shirt has to go, but you can stay." @shemurder ⇢ flirty prompts
He eases back so he's propped on his elbows, and his brows crinkle in mock offense —— though he also can't quite keep the grin away no matter how hard he tries. " —— are you objectifying me? I feel objectified. "
—— and then he grins, teasing. " Hells, objectify away. " And: he waggles his fingertips at her from where he's propped up, showing that he's plainly too pinned down to do something as profound as taking off his shirt. " I need some help here, though. 'm trapped. "
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@shemurder asked: ❝ i got my eye on you. you got the look of a troublemaker. ❞
The warning is met with an expression of feigned innocence—brows knit together over wide brown eyes, warm and naturally disarming. “Such conviction! I wasn’t aware that trouble had a look. Please—” he gestures with a jeweled hand, rings glinting in the sunlight as his long fingers unfurl in her direction. “—Educate me.”
She’s right, of course. He’s trouble—and the evidence rests carefully hidden under the sole of his boot. Maybe it’s just another piece of correspondence scattered from the bag of the dead courier they found down the path. Or maybe someone’s just angry enough with him to spread word of his bounty far and wide. Either way, he wasn’t expecting to find a poster bearing his name and likeness this far afield—notably, with a price. Three thousand gold for a meddling wizard: he’d rather keep that information to himself, lest his companions find themselves tempted.
He shifts, pressing his weight more heavily on his left foot, grinding the poster into the mud. “Would that look be… handsome, perchance? Dashing? Devilishly charming?” Without missing a beat, his face splits into a broad grin. “Some people have a taste for scoundrels, you know. Don’t worry—you can admit it. Your secret is safe with me.”
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no one asked, but here are some of fable's favorite things about her shipping partners ( part one ) :
@shemurder : how much goodness she has inside her, and how strong and resilient she is. and even when she's breaking down, fable can't help but admire her. she also adores morgana's smile, and hearing her laugh. it's probably one of her favorite sounds. @oathwilled : how safe paerin feels first and foremost, like a warm bed that you know will hold you up. but also, how much depth there is to him, as well. also, his voice. his voice is soothing and sexy all at once. there's also something to be said about his abilities as a fighter and a horse-rider that appeal to her, as well. @vampiyrus : how delightful astarion is to be around. he can always make her laugh or smile or blush so easily, and can make everything feel like an exciting journey to go on together. oh, and his eyes. they're bewitching, in a word. @stargroved : she adores amalthea's many sides. how she can be playful one moment, and then serious the next. also, her hair, for sure is a thing she loves playing with and running her fingers through. @scarbound : she loves how much astarion can understand and relate to her, and her to him. it feels like they're on the same wavelength often. and how gentle he can be with her, when it's so rare to see with anyone else. also, fable loves astarion's voice, and will ask him to read to her whenever she can.
#stargroved#oathwilled#shemurder#vampiyrus#scarbound#my favorite thing to do is gush over everyone's characters personally#shipping w me is just me fangirling over ur muse forevr#・゚ . 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𓆱 ooc.
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@shemurder 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 ﹕ ❛ you wanna ask me something. i can tell by the look on your face. ❜
was he really that conspicuous ? he wasn’t going to ask , he hadn’t wanted to. he still can hardly believe morgana agreed to it the first time. but gods , he can still taste the 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 , the blood of a sentient , thinking , intelligent creature— a taste that has been forbidden to him for two hundred years. a heavenly taste , and oh how he longs to taste it again ﹕ 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚.
his expression stiffens for a moment , along with his entire body , as if he’s been caught red - handed , ❛ i — ❜ there’s a fleeting look of malaise within vermillion hues , before quickly regaining his feigned confidence and holding his chin a bit higher , and his lips curl into a faint smirk , ❛ i just … can’t stop thinking about the other night , and the generous gift you bestowed upon me , ❜ crimson eyes now half - lidded , voice a low lull within his throat , astarion leans in just slightly closer , ❛ and i wasn’t going to ask , in fact , this is still not me asking , however— if you ever do find yourself in the … 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥 again , just know i’m more than happy to be the receiver , darling. ❜ his smirk widens , fangs peaking from beneath hungry lips , he can already feel himself salivating at the memory alone.
#shemurder#answered.#ok i had to at least get one out tonight lol#before i could sleep soundly#bc this was rattling in my brain and would not let me sleep#i’ll make some icons tomorrow xD
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@shemurder liked for a starter
"We're going to be SPLITTING FIFTY-FIFTY." A statement — the words left her lips firmly. "Nothing more , nothing less."
#shemurder#[ thread :: the job is never done ]#[ main verse :: rolling through thick and thin ]#// thanks for liking the starter~#queuing for a roll
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@shemurder // for dammon
stars are exploding in the tiefling's eyes — it's the only way to describe that awe-filled expression he wears — as hell-roughened hands cradle the ore as if it were a babe. mithril. a rare beauty, one that dammon had only ever dreamed of working with. "oh, I'm going to have so much fun with you." he murmurs softly, fingers tracing the cragged edges of his treasure. ah — of course! a bit embarrassed, dammon lifts his gaze and offers a small smile, now remembering the very company in front of him. "and how much might I owe you, morgana? I can't just accept something like this for nothing."
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Minthara thought to kill the dog first, no doubt he would catch her scent and alert the others to her arrival. But careful maneuvers discovered the canine's nose sluffed into the feathers of a small owlbear - of all things. Now that intentions remained she pushed deeper into the camp. Seeking the leader - to slit her throat in the name of vengeance before moving onto her companions.
Of course , the leader was a tiefling. The dagger was slowly drawn from it's sheath, as the crouched drow made her approach. What Minthara doesn't count on is the touch of their minds - the connection between their tadpoles. She could feel the second their minds touched - could feel what she dreamed, what she thoughts. Yet the moment she senses that link. Minthara lunges forward with the slashing down of the weapon.
@shemurder / gets a starter.
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@shemurder : i didn't even realize i was bleeding.
" you know, for some reason that doesn't surprise me. " a smile tugged at his lips, his words meant to tease as he sat himself opposite morgana, wet cloth wrung out into the bucket beside his leg. he shifted himself forwards to close the gap between them some and fingers reached to push the hair from her face away from the wound to her forehead. he brought the cloth forward, gently dabbing the sore skin around it to clear it of any dry or fresh blood - careful not to touch it directly.
fingers hesitated for a second as he worked a little closer to the wound. " i'm not hurting you, am i? just hit me if i am. i can take it. " they gently pressed again as he spoke with a little playfulness in his words. he'd much rather be hit than have her remain silent if he was hurting her. he didn't have a gift for much asides from his own craft, but he was well versed in tending to wounds whether they were small or not - a knack he'd developed by helping his mother on occasion when she tended to the sick. " there. there's not a lot i can do about the second head you're growing but i did my best. "
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@shemurder : liked for a starter.
❝ that was quite the surprising resolution, ❞ rachel muses as the group departs auntie ethel's teahouse none worse for the wear. ❝ I'd expected it to immediately devolve into violence. ❞
the miserable swamp awaiting them outside turns the world gray and green. their shoes make this awful schlep-schlep-schlep sound with every wet step through the muck and mud. still, the priestess smiles distantly at the tiefling before her. ❝ I know you've already got a full house with you, but if you're pursuing this tadpole situation too, I'd really like to journey with you too, if you don't mind. ❞ her expression evolves then, a tad bit more troubled. ❝ In fact, I should tell you –– I'm... something of a diviner, and recently I had a pretty intense vision. I'm not too sure, but... I think you were in it. ❞
#me making u write with me everywhere i go#✧ 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 . . . threads.#✧ 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 . . . bg3.#shemurder
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@shemurder inquired: ❛ why don’t you come a little closer? ❜ ahem / sexual tension
He doesn't have to be asked twice. It's late, it's dark. The campfire burns in the distance, but it's scarcely needed; the evening's warm enough as it stands. " If you're about to ask me to a dance, " he says, low, sidling over with hands outspread in neutral open offering, " I warn: I have two left feet. "
Though: there's also an understanding to the ask, an easy acceptance without much questioning —— and a little grin follows, the firelight a flickering backlight 'round his form. " Though there are many other kinds of dances I'm much better at. "
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@shemurder asked: ❛ i’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me. ❜
Gentle fingers strum lightly over the skin of her bare back as she sits in the bed, tracing the pattern of light ridges that converge at her spine. His palm smooths downward, greedily drinking in her form, covetous of every dimple and curve. Whatever it is she’s trying to read, he doesn’t especially care. All she gets is a quiet, “Mm,” as his lips follow the line of her shoulder to her neck.
Sex is good. Sex is fantastic. But there’s something special about the liminal space in its wake, when the afterglow takes hold and he gets to bask in his partner’s company. He shifts closer to her in the tangle of sheets, taking in the scent of her skin as he trails kisses down over her shoulder blade. It’s the most delicate of sensations—the barest brush of lips on skin—a spark kindled between hot breath and her drumming pulse. It’s unapologetic lust, he knows. The raw magnetism of one body wanting another, not only to fuck, but to touch. Feel. Possess.
She is soft and warm. And right now all he wants to do is kiss every inch of her body.
“I can’t imagine what you mean,” he finally says, smiling as he plants a kiss on the ball of her shoulder. “I’m never distracting. I’m a well behaved, perfect gentleman all the time.” He hovers there, dark eyes half lidded as he studies the gentle curve of her profile, the soft slope of her nose, the perch of full lips. He sweeps the dark tangle of hair across to her opposite shoulder so that he can more easily access her neck, and this time when he kisses her, there’s the flick of a hot tongue just below her ear.
“Distraction is such a subjective thing, anyway,” he murmurs, his voice a rough purr as his beard grazes her cheek. “Maybe I’m not the problem—maybe you are. Maybe you should try to focus a little harder.”
He drifts down again, kissing the crook of her neck—and this time he doesn’t stop. His lips latch onto the warm, tender skin, and with the wet heat of his mouth comes the sharp prick of gentle teeth. If she’s truly determined to discourage him, he’s not going to make it easy for her.
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@shemurder : ❝ i’m just saying, murder is an option. ❞
solstice turns her face hungrily up to the sun. she rakes her fingers through her long hair as though drinking in the sunlight through every pore in her skin. her eyes are closed when morgana's voice cuts through the pleasant silence. ❝ murder? ❞ she glances over, a lopsided smile already on her lips. ❝ I guess that depends on who we're killing right? evil cultists who want to take over the world? fuck yeah, cowgirl. ❞
digging through her pack, she pulls out a few folded pieces of parchment, using them to fan herself. the day is hot and they've been walking for an hour already. her stomach turns over, eating itself. sun and stars, but she's starving. ❝ not that I don't love murder-talk, but you know, that was sort of out of the blue? are ya' still having those uh... urges? ❞
RANDOM DIALOGUE : accepting.
#me realizing solstice is 6'6' out of heels like... she's TOWERING over morgana right now im crying#⋆ 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭 𖤓 answered.#⋆ 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘴 𖤓 bg3.#shemurder
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appreciation post for farrah / @shemurder because i objectively have the most threads with her and every single one is a DELIGHT. and I am in love with morgana and I adore everything we write together, and fable is head over heels for her tiny tiefling girlfriend ✨ 💜
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@shemurder — high elf au starter call / accepting!
“Have you ever done anything to properly care for those things?” There is a note of genuine concern in the sorcerer's voice as they eye the horns atop Morgana's head. “I know it's difficult to find the time for self-care out here, but—well, I also know a lotion that would have them so lush and shining you'd feel like a whole new Tiefling.”
#in which anais has spent years carefully lotioning their own scales#!ic; starters.#shemurder#.01; shemurder#!blaze with light. ( v; high elf )
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—— @shemurder gets a random thing .
‘ i know you’ve got a fucked up memory and everything, but— ’ there’s a pause as the devil ( who is currently lounging at last light inn within her tiefling form, not wanting to cause any uneasiness in her demon form amongst the the harpers and others here ) leans against the back of her chair. there is a faint look of despondency in her abyssal - marked features, much different from the usual look of devilish mischief or annoyance that graces her expression at all times, ‘ do you think you’ve ever killed somebody you loved before? ’ she asks because she has, and that guilt and sadness still lingers, even decades later.
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@shemurder / the streets outside the elfsong are too bright for istvan's liking at the moment. he spares only a cursory awareness for the surfacers on all sides - enough that he might catch a dagger, were it to fly his way ( without bleeding overmuch ) but the likelihood he will make any useful observations is low. he wonders if he ought to bring attention to the problem. but no - best to simply overcome it. he can force his own focus, if he tries.
he moves to catch up with her. " do you know if it is rare, " he asks, " that wine tastings involve poison on the surface? "
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