#this is v long hehe

[14dayswithyou]

💖 Day 3.5 is now available! 💖

For the last couple of months, only Server Boosters had access to the 3.5 update... Buuuuut now it's available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord — and soon itch.io once I'm happy with the QA and state of the game — so please don't feel pressured to join unless you want to!!

The full devlog + even more screenshots are under the cut ^^

What's been added to the 3.5 version?

📺 Streamer Mode!

I've been told that it's difficult to stream and monetise age-restricted videos on YouTube and Twitch, so I added an option to remove the sexual content and strong language used in the demo.

Now y'all can invite Ren into your bed for cuddles without putting your streamer career on the line /silly /lh

This won't affect the 18+ rating or dark themes/elements of the game, however! Although Streamer Mode will prevent you from seeing any "gruesome" CGs in the future, most of the core elements of the game will still be tied to the choices and decisions you make. So you won't miss out on the overall experience by using streamer mode!!

⚙️ Custom Pronouns!

It only took me one entire year to get around to it, but you can finally choose your own preferred pronouns (or use a set of pronouns instead)... At the cost of being able to change them mid-game ^^;

Since the original pronoun screen wouldn't update until a new scene was displayed, I temporarily disabled the feature. But once I find a workaround, I'll bring it back!

💗 Choose how others perceive you!

You can now choose how the cast and narration perceive you! Originally, the narration was kept strictly gender-neutral (outside of pronouns and genitalia picked by the player), but this will soon change in future updates.

For more clarity: you don't get to choose the words specifically, but you can choose between masculine, feminine, and androgynous terms!

📋 Separate top and bottom genitalia!

You can now choose your tatas and pps separately! >:3

Alongside that, you can also choose your preferred body type!

I removed the "both" genitalia option because a few players still assumed it was an obscure version of "intersex". That wasn't my intention and I don't want to mislead anyone, so I took it out for now ^^;

I also didn't want to include a screenshot of the new genitalia choices in action (because it's NSFW), so y'all get the same character menu screen for the nth time instead lmao

📱 Relationship Screen Overhaul!

You can now change your own status for more immersion, and long-term Server Boosters will eventually be able to submit and use their own icon within the game as well!

Stalking finding your friends has now become easier by using "Buddy Maps"; a new app that allows you to see the location of all the cast members!

I want to offer players more incentive to check the relationship screen since they tend to miss the status updates, so hopefully this might help ;v;

It also says it "updates every few hours" so folks don't go overboard and check every 5 seconds to see where Ren is gdsghf (also keep in mind that he's a hacker lol)

🖤 Additional Scenes Update!

Day 2 received a brand new CG!!!!! Originally, I planned on only adding a few CGs sporadically throughout the game, but it didn't feel right to leave Day 2 so... empty... so I added a brand new CG to (hopefully) make things feel more balanced and natural!

If you decline Teo's offer on Day 3, Leon will now call and try to convince you to reconsider. However, players are still allowed to decline, and if they do, they'll reach a dead end.

After listening to feedback on itch, I changed some of the dialogue during Days 1-3 to make it seem more consistent! They're only small changes though, so it's honestly not worth looking for sdgjssga

🎶 Updated BGM and SFX!

I wanted to try out a different style of music to see if it fits the vibe of 14DWY more! The BGM features more acoustics to suit the "beachy" theme of Corland Bay, though I made a conscious effort to include piano elements as well to stay true to the original!!

I figured it'd be better to give players a live example before I make a poll (to see if they prefer the change or not) and publish it to Itch.

Some new SFX have also been added, though it's very minimal and honestly not that noticeable.

How to download and play the update?

(warning: clicking on the following links will open Discord!!) To download the Day 3.5 update, simply join the 14DWY Discord server, verify your age, and visit the "14dwy-updates" channel!

Alternatively, you can also wait until the update is publicly released on Itch to play it as well!! (It normally gets released shortly after a round of QA testing/getting feedback from the server, though I may release it earlier if I feel like it hehe ^^)

Enjoy!!

[emry-stars-art]

Have you ever heard the noises axolotls make? its kinda quiet blub!, when they reach the surface of the water to gulp down some air. Anyway any time i see JellyNeil my mind immediately goes to Neil just making that noise

I HAVE NOW. wow I made a reel for the first time in forever just so I could get this across properly, here you go

(Audio from this YouTube video)

Find the mer au masterpost here 💕

[judasisgayriot]

[aquaticflames]

“Look over there!” Cody said. Obi-Wan turned his head over his shoulder to follow where Cody was pointing. “There are ducks! Can we go look? Obi, please!”

ty kit for writing such an adorable piece for this!! 🦆🐸💕

[oreonyu]

too many sacrifices

[vimbry]

[ryuusea]

🔍🎩🎀 Making of 『Hidden Region』

Happy TRIGGER anniversary 🎉

I hope you all have fun looking at and finding all the little references in here! 🤫🤭

Yes I still am obsessed with this music video.

[dragon-spaghetti]

The O'Neil Siblings

RAMBLE POST TIME WITH ART!! Okok so; in this au, Donnie is found by April and her family just after a storm. Splinter was out looking for supplies and was on his way back when the storm suddenly hit, but unfortunately his three remaining children are swept away when the alley kinda floods. A 2/3 year old April spots the squirming little turtle, and she gained a brother from there ✨

They grow up very close!! Their parents absolutely adore both of them, and they both attend school together (though in different year groups). To prevent as many questions about Donnie, he is just said to have some genetic conditions and wears many layers to hide as much of his skin as possible; hoodies, trousers, gloves, socks, scarves, the iconic purple mask, etc etc:

He's just a lil guy!! A fun fact that's a tangent for another day is that they were both actually friends w the purple dragons as kids :) but anyways

They've always been close. However, as they learn of the Hidden City etc at ages 14 and 16, things start to become tense as secrets are kept

Again, a tangent for another day, but they meet Mayhem, Draxum, Mikey, and most importantly here Raph all on the same day. Donnie and Raph then keep in contact and, despite knowing April would probs be fine with it, he.. finds himself keeping it a secret. This leads to many a misunderstanding as he starts sneaking around, meeting up with Raph to investigate wtf is happening

April is irritated by the secrecy, especially because she is not stupid. She can guess who he's hanging out with and what they're doing, and doesn't get why her brother is tryna keep it hush hush. So, tension. She actually meets Splinter after an argument with Donnie 🥲

It's around the time of Shadow Of Evil that everything kinda comes out, and they reveal everything to each other; Raph, Splinter, how Draxum is the turtles' creator, it's all out in the open finally and they both feel like a weight has been taken off their shoulders; no more secrets. It is from this moment that Splinter also promises to train them, as unbeknownst to the teenagers shit is really about to hit the fan as the Dark Armour is being rebuilt. However in the meantime they're back to being silly lmao

They aren't keeping things anymore, however there are still problems and fears; most notably, April is worried that Donnie has now found his 'true' family, that he'll leave her and their parents behind. Meanwhile, Donnie's fear of never being quite good enough is hitting harder after Many Unhappy Returns, scared he won't be accepted by Splinter and his brother(s) and also afraid that the family he grew up with will encourage him to leave now that he's found his 'own kind'. It's all paranoia obviously on both their fronts, none of that is an option for even a second, but it is haunting them

[ccaptain]

   heavy curtains are pushed aside, and the bright light of the sun pours in the bedroom.

   ' Good morning, Dr. Wuchlock! Rise and shine! '

   from the blankets, slowly and cautiously, rouses a figure: tousled salt-and-pepper hair first, a confused face with an opaque right eye second, a wrinkle in the pillow having been stamped in the skin of his cheek. nn hand clenches almost convusely at the bedsheets, the other hand confusedly going for his glasses-

   the stump of his forearm clashes with the wooded nighstand, making him jolt and groan in pain.

   ' Steady now, ' the young nurse is at his side in a moment, gently steadying the arm away from another trouble. glasses are placed on the man's face, hair carefully brushed away from his forehead.

   the man sighs. ' Thank you... Melany, ' he struggles to remember her name as if his mind was shrouded in fog. ' No matter how many years pass, sometimes I still like to pretend I have my hand... it's a bit frustrating, at times. '

   ' That's alright- very normal, doctor. Do you remember what this phenomenon is called? You taught me yourself! '

   another minute or so of silence. while Melany busies herself with straightening the blankets, the man slowly utters ' Phantom limb Syndrome? '

   ' Exactly! Nothing you can do about it, now- it is a persistant condition, after all, ' she chirps, pulling the blankets back from frail legs. ' But now, out of bed. I'll make you a nice breakfast, and then we'll see about the day, hmm?

   there's a somewhat sad smile on the old man's face now. ' Ah, Melany... what would I do without you? '

   ' Not much, doctor! ' she chides him motherly, playfully, an hand gently tapping atop of his head. ' And this is precisely why I'm here to assist you! '

 ' Steady now, ' Melany repeats, holding the old man by his forearms as she guides him to his deambulator. after a small intake of breath, she supervises him starting to move, and claps her hands once to express how proud she is of him for this simple, small feat. ' Now, slowly- to the table. Once you're about halfway through the room, I'll go make you breakfast, and still keep an eye on you! '

   ' Melany, ' he reassures her, legs gaining steadiness with each step. ' That's most unnecessary- this small walk doesn't tire me... '

 ' Just to be on the safe side, ' she answers back, keeping a watchful eye on him. true to her promise, once the item has carried him halfway across his goal, the living room table, she vanishes into the kitchen to start the food.

   as frail as he is, there's still some leftover determination in his old bones: steadily, step after step, he's almost there-

   a movement in the corner of his sight catches him off guard.

   there's a young man sprawled on his couch.

   cobalt hair have been woven in an high, elaborated ponytail, posture relaxed: a leg is elegantly crossed under the other, the realization that he's reading a familiar book and taking his time to read through the pages making him blink in confusion-

   blink. gone.

   the man is gone. the couch is unoccupied, uncreased.

   Melany's name is halfway out of his lips before he stops himself.

   there's part of him that grows scared of an home invasion- but interrupting Melany and worrying her is something the dying ember of his pride prevents a possible call for help. he's not yet victim of hallucinations- perhaps it's something else. perhaps he hasn't been sleeping well, and it's catching up to him. just that.

   with a sigh of mild frustration, he gains the upper hand on the table, safely landing in his chair as the scent of sizzling eggs fills the air.

   the vision fades into the back of his fogged mind, forgotten in favor of the promise of a good breakfast.

   ' Are the eggs good as every morning, Dr. Wuchlock? ' Melany asks, a cheeky smile on her face telling her that the answer is going to be the same as always:

   ' Excellent, and perfectly well-done as every morning, ' the old man confirms to her with a tremulous smile. ' you are very gifted: not a single time you have overdone them- though, I'd still eat them if you did, dear girl. '

   she laughs, cheeks coloring red with the carerfree sound. ' You're such a flatterer! Since I'm this much of a good cook, you better lick your plate clean, mister! '

   and how could he not? eggs and bacon, with a precisely toasted piece of bread. it's simple and filling, and delicious to boot. the old man has no need to be told twice. the plate is sparkling clean, having used the bread to scoop up the bacon-flavored oil from it.

   life can be good, sometimes. he leans back in his chair, listening to the familiar sounds of Melany humming and cleaning around the house, buzzing like a bee-

   ' Every time I come here to look at you, I don't know how to feel about it. '

   the foreign voice makes him jump, the fork clattering on the plate hard before it disappears under the table.

   the young man with cobalt hair abandons the couch, the book in his hand dangling between two slender fingers before he drops it to the ground. 

   an home invasion. for a moment, the old man is paralyzed to the core with fear- he isn't in his prime, and can't protect her from an ill-intentioned stranger. 

   the stranger moves towards his large cabinet, the one containing a myriad of colorful, differently shaped bottle of liquor. it has been a long while since his eye rested on it, and an even longer while since he sampled one- Melany strictly forbade him to drink anything other than water and some very diluted soft drinks to not aggravate his condition.

   the cabinet is locked- yet, with just a pressure of his finger over the lock, the glass door creacks open. gloved hands start rifling through the various bottles, an hand under each one with an unexpected care to not drop the heavier ones.

   ' My dad tells me that if I keep coming here, I'll never heal. ' a pause, the sound of words making the doctor tense up, on guard. ' But maybe I don't want to heal. I don't know. I'm conflicted. '

   stress turns into perplexity, an anciently buried doctor's instinct: the surviving eye scans the young man for any of the injuries that he claims he's not wanting to heal from, and finds none: no tears in the skin, no bloody gashes. no bandages. the unharmed home invader appraises a skull-shaped bottle, studded with little Swarowski diamonds, and blinks at it with what Wuchlock can only call curiosity. he has not stolen anything... yet. But it seems that the alcohol has his full attention. he could do without a few, for all those were worth-

   ' Perhaps... ' he starts, throat dry. a little cleaning of it helps. ' Perhaps you should listen to your father...? Surely, he's well intentioned... '

   the man stops any movement, going still as stone. it's the sudden expressionless, hard stare that pins the frail man to his seat, makes his surviving hand shake. 

   and suddendly the fog in his mind dissipates-

   his forearm grows numb and burns like liquid fire all the same. a trail of thick blood left behind him- a young, blond woman ishelped out of a septic tank, wrapped up in an unfamiliar dark robe, is tackles by a small, brown-haired boy as they both cling to eachother like lifelines. bloodshot, blue eyes look at him with nothing but hatred and contempt, judge him like many before.

   ' I hope this hurts, ' she hisses, holding her son close.

   Jakob has escaped their clutches. all hopes to the grasp they had on the blonde being to test on is now lost.

   all because of him.

   the demon with mismatched, empty eyes staring at him as he bleeds out on the floor- an expressionless face, hair wild and loose around it. an hunting, bloody knife in his hand. the one that hacked away his forearm, that still has his blood on it.

   ' Damn you and your kind, ' the wounded man hisses, tiles cold against his cheek before he lifts his head with the last of his strength. ' You ruined EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING, do you understand?! '

   it says nothing. it simply stares, unforgiving and unbothered by the explosion of anger, the other members of its group escaping behind it. and then, just as its about to turn, it utters the words-

   ' an average human male can die by losing from two and half to four liters of blood, ' it coldly informs him, before closing the heavy metal door of the experiment room with a calm that's deliberate.

   effectively trapping him in a grave of his own making.

   a familiar face...

   a voice reaches past his memories. ' No good morning for me today, Doctor? '

   another pang of recognition: they had this conversation before. one in front of the other, the biologist bubbling with barely contained anger and the being, indifferent and sarcastic. it feels like this stand-off happened ages ago.

   the name comes to dry lips almost automatical, familiar. ' Alberich? '

   Alberich stops his rifling through exotic bottles, turning to look at him. there's a faint, sourly satisfied smile on his lips that doesn't reach his eye. ' It always takes you a while to remember. But I'm patient- I have all the time in the world. '

   there's a whimper coming from the man, hunching down in his chair, preparing for the worst: a lash out, another one of his limbs being removed by force- but the young man simply stares at him, long lashes blinking before he resumes rustling in his private collections.

   Wuchlock doesn't know what to make of it. every muscle of his body is taut, trembling with every fever of his being. ' What do you mean- that it takes me a while to remember? '

   ' I come here every month, ' he explains, a shrug of bare shoulders as he perouses to his liking. ' Sometimes, you remember as soon as you see me. Sometimes, it takes you half a day- but I don't mind waiting, as I said. '

   this is the end of the line, is it? there's a sense of finality that Wuchlock can perceive, that makes his bones shake until his teeth are chattering from pure fear. he used to not feel fear, before meeting the being that was Kaeya Alberich. 

   ' Why are you here? ' he asks, pitifully trembling like a leaf. he's no match for him. he was never any match, and he should have expected it. 

   what he doesn't expect is for the Emanator of Enigmata to stop his actions. it turns to stare at him, seemingly lost in thoughts.

  ' I am familiar with the concept of revenge. ' it starts, then stops, and starts again. ' It implies that the person who has done a terrible deed gets... comeuppance. is this the word I could use? retribution. But I'm not a Galaxy Ranger, so the deeper meaning of it escapes me. Perhaps, one day, I'll ask one of them about it, and I'll have a more precise answer. '

 a non-answer. Wuchlock doesn't understand if he'll be executed, or if he gets to live another day. the insecurity and fear fuel his frustration. ' Alberich! ' he barks, and frosty diamond settle back on him at the display of the familiar tone. ' Enough of these verbal enigmas of yours! Can you never give a straight answer? Would it kill you to? '

   there's a long pause, eye leveling the other as Kaeya seems to have come to a decision on what to pick: a large bottle of whiskey, coloring it gold, one of the least elaborated ones.

   ' Schadenfreude, ' he speaks in a perfect German accent, almost as if another person was speaking. ' The emotional experience of delight at one's misfortune. '

   and then, he starts laughing.

   chuckling, more like. something rumbling in his throat, dark and foreboding with a slight curl of soft lips. he shakes his head, letting cobalt bangs hang from his forehead before he speaks again. something damning:

   ' Hannah has no intentions on forgiving you, ' it's explained to him, the curl fading from his face. no myrth or amusement left on it- just an hard stare. 

   ' But it doesn't matter how much I try to force you to aknowledge this; even when mutilated and lucid you're still convinced that you're the misurestood hero of the situation. ' another, dry chuckle. ' Then, this is the end that awaits such an heroic soul. '

when Wuchlock tries to respond, his throat is dry and tight with anger. he's shaking, his disabilities forgotten. 

   for a moment, it's back to the middle-aged biologist standing in front of a being with an hospital gown on, towering over him.

   Alberich seems so pleased with himself: his posture has relaxed considerably, pale diamond full of unspoken mockery. ' Cheers to the hero of the world, Edward Wuchlock, ' he lifts the stolen bottle, lips revealing a snarl of pearly white teeth. 

   and then, just as he has appeared, he's gone.

   he finds himself alone in the room, wobbling in place as the mental fog envelopes him once again: with numb surprise, he realizes that his hand is fisted impossibly tight and that his joints hurt, hurt even more when he slowly releases his grip on nothing and everything creaks and cracks.

   ' Melany? ' he calls, helpless and suddendly scared, terrified. ' Melany! Melany, please... '

   ' Oh! ' the girl turns to stare at the living room where the desperate, frail call is coming from, fingertips pressing against her lips to stifle a grin. ' You really put the fear of God into him! Last time he was just confused by the time you were leaving. '

   no answer from the cobalt-haired fellow on the open door, almost on his way: just a mischievous smile, a tilt of his head, and a better tucking of the bottle under his arm.

   she eyes it curiously, an identical tilt of her head mimicking his. ' Not that it's my business, but- why do you always steal one of his bottles? '

   a small chuckle does come out of him. ' It's fine to ask. Let's say that I have... a friend that really enjoys it. And it's not like the doctor will drink or miss any of this. It's less bottles for you to clean, ' he teases, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

   ' Oh, shush, you! ' a swat over his bare arm makes him laugh harder. ' Being his personal maid is a favor I'm doing to you- plus! I'm curious if you'll end up killing him, one day. The least you can do is damn right make things easier for me! '

   ' Okay, okay, ' hands are lifted in playful surrender, ' I will do just that. See you, and thank you very much for your help. '

   after a scoff from Melany, the door slowly closes behind him, his shadow being thrown clear across the living room.

   and, for just a moment, Kaeya Alberich towered tall as a king.

ITEM OBTAINED: The Bushmills '84: 'Even Dead Men Can Sing!' Dark Oath Single Malt Whiskey A collector's item originating from a far away planet, worth thousands of credits if left unopened. It is said that the punch it packs could reanimate a corpse and make it sing an old ballad as an ode to the taste- this is precisely what is named after. There are currently only 6 bottles scattered across the galaxy- one of which purchased by the famous doctor and biologist Edward Wuchlock, for the modest price of ████,███ credits.

[4m4zing-gracie]

[ N, Uzi, J and V are are in the cafeteria of a prison, seated at their own table. Many different prisoners, human, alien and robot alike, are minding their own business around them. ]

Uzi: If we're gonna get out of here, we're gonna need to get into that watchtower. And to do that, I'm gonna need a few things. The guards wear security bands to control their ins and outs. I need one.

N: Leave it to me.

Uzi: That dude, there. I need his prosthetic leg.

N: His leg?

Uzi: Yeah. I mean, I don't need the rest of him. Look at him, he's useless.

N: All right.

Uzi: And finally, on the wall back there is a black panel. Blinky yellow light. Do you see it?

N: Yeah.

Uzi: There's a quarnyx battery behind it. Purplish box, green wires. To get into that watchtower, I definitely need it.

[ In the background, V is walking towards the watchtower, the rest of the group being completely oblivious to her plans. ]

J: How are we supposed to do that?

Uzi: Well, supposedly, these bald-bodies think you're cute and huggable. So, maybe you can work out some sort of trade.

J: ....You must be joking.

Uzi: No, I really heard they think you're cute and huggable.

N: Look, it's 20 feet up in the air, and it's in the middle of the most heavily-guarded part of the prison. It's impossible to get up there without being seen.

[ As N explains, V climbs and sits on the small railing in front of the watchtower, and uses her tail to reach said battery. ]

Uzi: Well I got one plan, and that plan requires a frickin' quarnyx battery, so FIGURE IT OUT!

[ V takes the cover off the battery and throws it away, and it hits some guy in the head and knocks him out ]

Uzi: Can I get back to it? Thanks. Now, this is important. Once the battery is removed, everything is gonna slam into emergency mode.

[ In the back, V is attempting to pull the battery off the wall with her tail. ]

Uzi: Once we have it, we gotta move quickly, so you definitely need to get that last.

[ V gives a sharp tug, and the lights turn off, an emergency alarm sounding in the back. Uzi, J and N turn to see V holding the battery with her tail, a smug smile on her face. ]

Uzi: Or we could just get it first and improvise!

[tearfest]

ㅤㅤpenelope rather enjoyed playing the role of doting step-mother, whether her disgruntled step-son appreciated it or not. it must be weird, though — being close to age with your new step-mother than your own father was. and the fact that she was so hot definitely mustn't help. but she didn't really care all that much; marrying rich had left the thirty-one year old with nothing but time on her hands, and what better way than to pass it than becoming a hockey mom? and it definitely didn't hurt that she'd found herself some sweet, new eye candy.

ㅤㅤcurves were hugged by a leopard print juicy couture tracksuit that she'd taken in herself, having cinched in the bottoms and cropped the tight and half unzipped jacket. the black lacy frill of her bra peeked out from behind the now visible cropped white tee, an outfit specifically picked to try and attract wesley's attention. even the visible band of her thong made visible by the low rise waistband of her tracksuit bottoms, hips swaying when she entered the locker room that she'd so conveniently left her newest flip phone behind in. whoopsies.

ㅤㅤ" jake? " she called out, fully aware of the fact that he'd already left for food with a majority of the team. " have you seen my— oh, wesley. " cue the faux surprise as she gazed up at him with her siren eyes. " i thought you'd already headed home. have you seen jake around? " one hand held at the leather strap of her purse, the other coming to rest against his jersey as she tilted her head up at him, unable to mask her smile as the diamond in her wedding ring glinted on his chest. " i've lost my phone. you wouldn't be a doll and give me a helping hand, would you? you're just so good with them on the ice. "

closed starter for @velvetrogue.

[waterfallofspace]

9, 42, and 45 for a sick, sneezy vash please, if that’s okay? 😄

Thank you for the ask, of course that's okay!! (it does feature a hint of W/olfwood action too, just a smiiidge, hope that's alright hehe~ It's also a V/ashwood story since, well, I figured that would be alright~!) 1.9k words, prompts 9, 42, and 45, story under cut! 9. “You’re trembling.”  42. “Baby, you’re all sniffly.”  45. “Your nose is literally twitching.” (Brief mentions of anxiety just incase anyone doesn't like that!)

~~~~~~~

“hn’chh-! hh’keshh-! ‘Scuse me, sorry.”

“I told ya, no need for the ‘pologies.” 

“Y- you did but it’s a hahh... habit. hek’ishh-! Sor-”

A dark look from Wolfwood cuts off the apology, Vash being reduced to stuttering out some nonsensical syllables in his effort to recover. His leg is still, but there’s constant movement in his hands as they attempt to find something to grab onto. Anxiety was never a stranger to the man, despite apparent lack of concern for his own safety most of the time.  

The town they find themselves in doesn’t have a motel, which isn’t that unique in these parts. They’ve grown quite used to sharing a room, or even just a bed, wherever they could find one. For instance, they’re currently sharing a guest room above the town bar. Not an awful crashpad, a couch, nice radio, their own bathroom. 

It’s secluded from the rest of the bar too, giving them a bit of privacy. Sliding onto the bed, Wolfwood motions for Vash to join him. Surprise crosses his sharp features as the request is denied. Instead, Vash points himself towards the couch, offering a wave over his shoulder as he spins away. ‘Well that’s new…’ 

“What, suddenly too good to share a bed with me, Blondie?”

“Wh- what? No, not at all! I just… I figured you’d- en’chh-! ih’tshhie-! Excuse me, sorry. Where was I..? Oh right, m- maybe you’d want it to yourself this time and I don’t mind t- taking the couch.”

“‘Cause of your cold? I don’t care, now get over here.”

“Because of my- what? I’m… I’m not sick?” 

Wolfwood doesn’t reply, instead he lets the uncomfortable silence settle over the room as he watches Vash. ‘Either he’s playing dumb, and doesn’t want to admit it, or the needle noggin really didn’t notice. Gotta know which before I make my move.’ Under the weight of tension starting to spread through the air, Vash gives a heavy sigh. The breath comes out shaky as his body vibrates, hands starting to rub his arms.

“You’re literally trembling. You tryna tell me that ain’t shivers?”

“It’s not! Well okay… I mean it is shivering, but not from sickness, it’s just cold in here, that’s all! ennchh-! Sorry, excuse me.”

The sneeze brings a fresh round of shudders as Wolfwood raises a brow at the display. ‘So denial it is then. If it was cold in ‘ere I’d’ve noticed long before him.’ A blessing almost slips out, but that’ll just lead to a new round of apologies. Right now it’s more important to get an admittance and go from there.

“Blondie, we’re in a fuckin’ desert. It’s not cold anywhere.” 

“W- well they must have the air on! Or… or something… probably the air, b- because it’s so hot out, so they uh… they want it to be cool indoors.”

“Guess I should go ask ‘em to turn it off-”

“Hey- wait no, uh… it’s- it’s actually starting to uh… warm up..? D- don’t bother them. hk’ishiee-! Sorry. They let us stay here, I don’t- I mean we don’t want to be a burden on them-”

A hint of pride starts to break through Wolfwood’s mind as he grins. ‘And there it is. Gotcha.’ Vash has always been hesitant to be a burden. Not a horrible mindset to have for most people, ‘Hell, a few could use more of it’. The problem is that his definition of ‘burden’ includes things such as eating, sleeping, breathing, or simply existing when he’s not actively helping in some way. 

Sickness was high on his list of ‘things that make me a burden on everyone I come in contact with’, despite Wolfwood’s constant reminders that he doesn’t mind. However, there is something above it, and that’s ‘bothering someone else’, especially when it’s for a made up reason. Given the choice between admitting sickness or waking the bartender to ask them to turn off the ‘air’ that doesn’t exist, well…

“-Okay fine. I might be… a little bit sick… but- hh’ishh’iee-! hehh- en’chhh-! heh’kshh’iew-!” 

“Blessin’”

“Thank you, sorry, it’s really not that bad!”

“Then get in bed ‘fore it gets worse.” 

“I uh… I really don’t think that’s-”

“I’ll even read from the book I’ve been finishin’. But that's a limited time offer, Blondie. Goin’ once, goin’ twice-” 

Before he can start the next word, Vash hurls himself towards the bed, an excited set of vibrations starting to replace the shivers. Wolfwood chuckles, lifting the blanket from his legs to wrap it around Vash, giving his shoulders a light squeeze. In response the huddled form leans into his lap, head resting against his chest. 

“Ready?”

“Yehh… yep!” 

“Alright. The second reason he realized she was gone was from the smell. The air had lost a sweetness. One he’d grown so used to he hardly recognized it anymore. That is, until it was gone. -----” 

Wolfwood continues reading, his focus being drawn away from the world once more. ‘Would’ve thought romance books were more Blondie’s thing, but… well… after he gave me that one about the garden love story… I guess I could understand the appeal… But only because Vash likes it when I read them. That’s all.’ No one else can hear him, but Wolfwood still feels the need to justify the surge of emotion starting to creep through his heart. 

Maybe it was the fact Vash had given him them. Maybe it was the fact that blondie was gazing up with a hazy adoration as each word leaves his throat. Doesn’t really matter why. All that matters is how the words seem to glide off the page, through his deep voice to dance around their heads, playing out each scene as he reads them. This sensation is short lived though, as soon he feels himself snapping back to the bedroom where a soft sound has begun.

“hkk-! guhh…” 

“Brushing the branches from his uh… from his face, he starts to cut through the dense forest.”

“heHh-! hhh… Snnff-”

“T- the branches, oh wait read that already, ah here we go. The dense forest. Eyes seem to be peering at him through the-”

“hahHhh- snff- hkIH-! hehh…”

“Through the, uh, the-”

“hhih-!”

“Christ, Blondie. Just sneeze already.” 

Vash’s head pops out from its blanket cocoon against Wolfwood’s chest, a pink tint spread across his cheeks that has nothing to do with his cold. Bringing up a single finger to lightly rub his nose, Vash tries to offer a sincere smile. What instead crosses his face is a look that just screams itchy. Wolfwood feels a sympathy tickle through his own nose. 

“Wh- what?”

“Your nose is literally twitching. You’re makin’ me itchy from the look of it. Jus’ sneeze, it’s okay. I’ll even pause my readin’.” 

“I- I don’t… okay yehh… yes I do- I’m so sorry ehH-!”

“Don’t ‘pologize. Nothin’ to be ‘shamed of.”

“eH’tmmfshh-! hh’mmshhii-! hk’ishh’ieee-!” 

He attempts to muffle the first two into his hand, the third escaping with a pitch that sounds incredibly unsatisfying. ‘No wonder he always has these long drawn out fits. Those sound like they do nothin’ to relieve the itch.’ Pausing his analysis, Wolfwood leans towards the nightstand, grabbing a handful of tissues and pressing them into Vash’s unused hand. 

A timid smile meets the gesture as Vash brings them to his nose, humming a sigh. The action seems to bring a new level of irritation, his breath snaring as the tissues are gripped tighter. It teases him for a minute, Wolfwood choking back a laugh at the whimper the tissues barely muffle. Finally, after what seems like a lifetime, a desperate “hnnchh-! ih’tishiee-! keshh’ii-!” break through. Wolfwood lets a knuckle crush his own nose, sympathy waves running through it again.

“Blessin’.” 

“Thanks. Sor-”

“You’re only welcome if you don’t finish that apology.” 

“-So are you gonna keep reading..? hih’ishhiee-! hk’ieshh-! Excuse me.”

“Blessin’s. Good save, Blondie. Remind me where we were?”

“Eyes in the- eh’kshhiee-! forest.”

“Blessin’, alright. So- wait… hold on a sec.”

Wolfwood lets the book rest on his knees, staring up through his sunglasses at the ceiling. Vash attempts to follow his gaze, but can’t notice anything worth staring at. Deciding to ask, Vash leans up to meet his eyes. Hardly a noise escapes before Wolfwood holds up a finger to silence him, tilting his sunglasses down and blinking through the brightness. 

“huh’yIEZzshh’oo-! ai’GNZSHhh’oo-! Whew, that’s better.” 

“Oh- bless you! Did- did I get-”

“No you didn' get me sick. My immune system ain’t nearly as fragile as yours.”

“Hey! Well then, is- hh’tieshh’ii-! Excuse me. Is something bothering you?”

“Nah, jus’ a tickle. Think it was ‘cause of the itchy look you were wearin’.”

“Oh, okay! S- sorry…”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, Blondie. Now, back to the book?"

"Yes!"

"Eyes seem to be peering at him through the darkness. Watching his every step, daring him to come closer. Daring him to betray his heart alongside his kingdom. What did they know? Surely not his heart. That was something that couldn’t be known by anyone, not after her. ------.” 

Wolfwood feels the words flow from him once more, almost before his eyes can trace their forms on the page. Figures begin their dance, chasing each other in beautiful patterns through the humid air. The only thing pulling him from the daydream that he finds himself in far too often with Vash is the sound of constant sniffles. 

There is an outright refusal to address the noises, so instead Wolfwood continues reading, making it through another two chapters before giving in and setting the book back down. Vash looks up with an innocent gaze, absentmindedly rubbing his palm against his nose as another sniff breaks free.

“Baby, you’re all sniffly. You can blow your nose.”

The pet name gets the reaction it was meant to, Vash suddenly laser focused on Wolfwood’s every word. ‘Alright, easy now with this next part. He’s jus’ about there, gotta be delicate. Which… has never really been my strong suit.’ There’s a hint of unease beneath Vash’s smile, palm crushing against his face again. 

“I know you’re sick, Vash. You told me that earlier. So you can drop the ruse.” 

“We- well…”

“It’s just us.” 

Vash flushes as Wolfwood passes him another handful of tissues, but brings them to his nose anyways. He turns away, ever mindful of others, and blows a couple times. The first seems unsuccessful, but by the third he manages to get a semblance of airflow through his sinuses. 

Giving a heady sigh of relief, Vash turns back to Wolfwood, mouth open as if to form words. He never gets the chance, the next breath through his sensitive nasal passages bringing his hands up to his face by instinct. Wolfwood chuckles, letting a hand drop to rub his back through the fit. 

“hH’ieshh’ie-! keshhh’iee-! hihh- tnnshhii-! Ih’tieshhiee-!”

“Blessin’s. Heh, you’re awfully adorable at times, Blondie.”

“I am no- heH’ishh-! hk’ishh-! tieshh’iee-! not!” 

Humming out another laugh, Wolfwood brushes the hair from Vash’s warm skin, planting a kiss on his forehead. Vash responds with a sigh, airy and light, before he sinks back into Wolfwood’s chest, wrapping himself deeper into the blanket. A smirk crosses Wolfwood’s face, ‘Not cute, huh?’ before he lifts the book once more.

There, in the safety of Wolfwood’s embrace, Vash finds himself drifting off to sleep, figures dancing through his mind as the deep voice fades off into a peaceful darkness.

[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.

[natasha-in-space]

Just wanted to let you know I've been scrolling through your writings and I'm so in love. <3

As for my request.. GE Saeran or Ray planting flowers/ tending the garden with MC? I need a little more fluff in my life. :)

"Y/N? What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, Ray!" You immediately perked up at the sound of the voice you knew so well, jumping up onto your feet from the small patch of soil you were crouching in before and turning to face him fully, a giddy smile slowly forming on your face as you took in his curious gaze. It was akin to an instinct that you couldn't control. The sight of him there made you feel so happy that it was hard to contain your excitement. "Sorry. Were you worried for me? I knew I should have texted you..."

"No, no, it's quite alright... You're one of us now, and Magenta is your home. I'm just... surprised." He smiled sheepishly at you, his shoulders relaxing little by little as he took in your cheery demeanor. It was apparent to you that your new status was a strange change for him, despite his efforts to make you feel comfortable. After all, he has grown so close with you in the last couple of weeks... It was probably hard for him to view you as a fellow believer now, rather than his precious tester.

You quickly dusted yourself off before picking up a plastic water can that you were busy working with before. "Well, I wanted to plant some flowers! It was supposed to be a surprise for you, but... I'm, uh, actually kind of struggling here. The gardener I saw acted all antsy around me for some reason, so I didn't want to bother the poor guy. Say... if you, maybe, have some free time on your hands... could you help me out? Just a little?"

After all, it was worth a shot trying to ask him.

"Well, of course! You've done so much for me ever since I came here! I simply wanted to repay the favor. After all, I know how much you love your flower friends. So, can you lend me a hand so that I don't kill any of these poor innocent seedlings?" You chat with him in a lighthearted tone, eager to keep the mood pleasant and comfortable between the two of you. Ray had a tendency to get lost in his own thoughts at times! And, you wanted to distract him a bit from the recent mess up with the Savior that has kept him stressed and anxious throughout the last week.

Ray's eyes practically lit up as you said that, revealing a pale blush on his cheeks in a matter of seconds. He seemed to be rather taken aback by your invitation... in a good way, from what you could see. "A... A surprise? For me...?"

"O-Of course. I'd love to." Although there was a slight stutter in his soft voice, he took a small step towards you. His eyes locked onto yours with an emotion that was a mix between gratitude and admiration. It appears that he was ready for the task after all!

"Great! So, uh, I'm actually unsure of how much water the soil needs, so could you help me with that? Those are white camelia seedlings... I read up on the right way to plant them, but it's not as easy as I thought." You explained to him with an awkward chuckle, crouching down next to the small spot of fresh soil you've chosen to plant in and gesturing around all the gardening equipment you managed to bring out with you. Although the gardener believer was anxious, he was willing to carry all the heavy stuff for you, and you were grateful for that.

He made it look so easy... like it was second nature to him. You only wished he could have more time and freedom on his hands to pursue these small activities that actually brought him joy... but, since you didn't want to ruin the moment, you never brought up this forbidden topic at hand.

Soon, you were both working in comfortable silence, nothing but the gentle rustle of greenery and the evening melody of crickets interrupting the sound of your gradual progress. Although, by this time, you spent more energy on ogling Ray than actually gardening. You couldn't help yourself! He looked so graceful as his hands placed each tiny seed in its respective hole... You never knew something like gardening could even look graceful! But, oh, what you liked most of all was seeing how... peaceful Ray's gaze has become the longer you worked. He appeared completely relaxed at this moment, enjoying doing something he loved and not worrying about anything. For this brief magical moment, at the very least.

"Oh hey, that one looks like a kitty!" You called out, pointing out the specific cluster of clouds you were talking about, with a silly snicker falling from your lips. There was something so... relaxing about doing this with him. It's possible to forget the huge imposing castle made of white marble towering behind you and, for a brief moment, find yourself free as a bird amidst these fluffy clouds. It was bittersweet, in a way.

The initial plan was to help you with your gardening effort, but it turned out to be cloud-watching as you sat next to each other on the lush grass, your arms barely touching. The closeness is just right to make your heart race, but not too much to cause anything prohibited within Mint Eye. Sort of like a secret date.

"I'm afraid I can't really see that, but your imagination is something definitely worth of admiration." Ray chuckled quietly, shaking his head a bit as he glanced at you with amusement before returning his attention to the rosy evening sky above.

"Y-Yes?" He stuttered, his gaze now glued to you, even as his cheeks grew redder and redder as he inevitably took notice of just how close your faces truly were now that you laid your head on his shoulder.

As you laid your head on his shoulder, sighing with a sense of peacefulness that enveloped you like a warm blanket, he jolted and made a tiny adorable squeak at your sudden touch. You were aware that he didn't object to this. Ray was someone almost as touch-starved as you... although, it took you some time to realize that his jumpy reactions weren't made out of discomfort, but rather unfamiliarity with such gestures of affection. "...Ray?"

"Do you know the meaning of white camelia?"

"That's right. You're adorable." You whispered affectionately to him, as if it were a secret meant only to be shared between you, then leaning in and leaving a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose.

Your question caused his flustered mind to scramble and his eyes to grow wide. It wasn't long before a shaky gasp came from his lips, making you giggle in response.

[putrid-tongue]

— STARTER FOR @prvtocol (⤻ Lady Brianne of the Dorwiniodhrim)

shakh  zigûrû  hurnash  hoir—  the  dark  lord  is  gone.  his  hordes  scattered,  his  mannish  devotees  following  the  grains  of  sand  and  the  flow  of  time.  mordor  lays  quiet  once  more,  as  no  foulness  or  wretched  creature  will  remain  honorbound  in  pious  awaiting.  a  spell  broken,  a  tentative  peace  achieved.  yet  in  the  dark  lord's  entourage  are  also  those  of  grander  designs  and  minds  of  their  own,  and  mordú  is  amongst  them.  while  his  master  dwells  in  dol  guldur,  he  is  content  to  further  his  influence  'ere  it  wanes  entirely.  and  in  his  heart  he  thinks  that  HE  DOES  IT  FOR  HIS  FELLOWS,  for  all  adûnai  bereft  of  love  and  higher  calling.  THÛ  is  pain,  and  he  is  terror—  but  he  is  also  freedom  &&  knowledge.  has  there  ever  been  a  path  worth  pursuing  that  would  not  test  those  wandering  it?  the  time  for  Men  has  come,  and  mordú  will  labor  for  it  to  be  greater  than  all  that  came  before.  too  fresh  is  the  pain  of  seeing  the  great  sea  heave  akin  to  a  beast  come  alive,  for  the  skies  to  darken  in  a  fury  befit  of  the  end  of  the  very  world.  and  beneath  him  the  earth  had  groaned  and  wept  &&  without  being  there  he  had  known:  his  home  is  lost,  and  would  never  return.  broken  by  petty  fury  over  children  who  yearned  for  something  they  would  never  have.  no  part  of  mordú  regrets  his  hand  in  sauron's  bloody  designs  upon  westernesse,  let  it  be  a  wound  upon  the  hearts  of  uncaring  gods.  would  that  it  tarnishes  their  crowns,  and  make  heavy  their  hearts.  they  have  not  shown  love  to  his  people,  and  would  be  granted  no  love  in  turn.

indeed,  he  will  carry  the  spark  of  sauron's  wisdom  to  the  south  and  the  east,  and  will  teach  those  with  the  minds  to  listen  and  the  courage  to  follow.  many  already  worship  sauron,  and  they  name  him  marec,  dasata,  vâtra  &&  countless  more  names,  for  he  is  ancient  and  has  been  with  the  tribes  of  harad  and  khând  &&  the  daen  since  the  DISTANT  MISTS  OF  THE  FIRST  AGE.  mordú's  mind  is  now  set  upon  green  and  fertile  lands,  home  to  an  industrious  and  worldly-wise  people  whom  will  be  a  rather  brilliant  jewel  upon  thû's  crown.  dorwinion  may  yet  become  the  breadbasket  supporting  mordor's  limping  economy,  and  secure  trade  with  western  regions  and  more  distant  places  such  as  umbar  or  the  proud  cities  and  moving  settlements  of  the  khârai  peoples.

from  dol  guldur,  dorwinion  is  merely  a  few  weeks  to  the  east  with  a  fast  horse,  and  mordú  takes  great  pains  to  avoid  the  further  reaches  of  greenwood  that  is  most  unfriendly  to  him,  as  well  as  the  running  water  of  the  celduin—  its  sound  enough  to  churn  his  stomach.  though  he  would  arrive  in  those  friendlier  lands  at  last  without  noteworthy  incident.  it  is  a  great  no  man's  land  between  greenwood  and  the  sea  of  rhûn,  and  neither  man  nor  elf  traverses  it  with  a  light  heart  in  fear  of  veering  south,  where  the  haunting  dagorlad  plains  await.  the  peoples  of  dorwinion  suffered  greatly  all  those  years  ago,  when  their  gardens  burned  in  the  pyres  of  war—  destruction  wrought  without  reason  or  mercy.  and  even  though  this  is  now  so  many  cycles  of  the  sun  ago,  mordú  has  little  doubt  that  the  memory  of  it  yet  prevails  in  their  hearts.  it  may  complicate  matters,  though  he  will  not  shy  away  from  the  arts  of  deception  if  he  has  to.

mordú  appears  to  the  people  as  a  sage  of  his  own,  now  dúnedain,  in  colorful  clothes  of  red  and  blue  and  green.  lacquered  beads  tell  tale  of  his  studies  &&  the  layered  cloth  hiding  his  brow  and  head  a  sign  of  deference  to  the  wisdom  of  the  cosmos.  he  is  kindly  and  patient,  easy  to  take  to  despite  his  wondrous  height  keeping  others  at  a  distance  upon  a  first  meeting.  KNOWLEDGE  he  would  share  freely,  and  he  is  wont  to  spend  the  night  on  invitation  within  various  settlements,  to  tell  tales  long  forgotten  in  the  comfort  of  firelight.  whispers  of  a  wise  wanderer  precede  him  within  the  span  of  mere  weeks,  though  he  is  not  always  met  with  friendliness  and  curiosity.  many  remain  weary  of  him,  and  they  will  trade  with  mordú  but  not  let  him  into  their  houses  or  their  inns,  instead  bidding  him  to  be  on  his  way.  a  fact  that  evokes  in  him  no  great  ire,  as  his  purpose  here  is  to  learn  all  there  is  to  know  about  the  dorwiniodhrim.

his  findings  would  lead  him  to  the  dónu  dales,  a  rich  and  fertile  area  called  deneral  in  their  tongue.  mordú  learned  of  a  family  inhabiting  these  parts,  their  shared  blood  with  both  the  gargath  and  the  donathig  making  them  uniquely  influential  in  his  assumption.  and  he  had  spoken  before  the  council,  and  he  had  been  granted  audience.  as  nothing  but  a  humble  sage,  a  scholar  &&  teacher  they  would  have  nothing  to  fear  of  him.  mordú  would  like  that  to  be  true.  wills  it  to  be  true.  in  his  heart  there  is  yet  a  space  for  love  and  admiration,  however  shadowed  and  misguided  it  may  be.  dorwinion  is  breathtaking,  and  its  people  uniquely  skilled  in  all  things  that  would  grow.  there  is  beauty  here,  and  he  would  not  love  to  see  it  wasted.

closing  his  eyes,  the  tall  adûna  lifts  his  face  towards  the  midday  sun.  around  him  the  air  smells  sweet—  of  dew  and  flowers  &&  vines  in  their  bloom.  he  looks  to  be  not  a  day  above  his  fortieth  winter,  though  there  are  dark  circles  beneath  his  piercing  blue  eyes,  and  no  warmth  in  his  cheeks.  the  long  hair  laying  upon  his  chest  is  streaked  in  grey,  though  it  remains  thick  and  has  yet  to  lose  its  luster.

❛  i  am  rather  glad  the  realm-master  has  deigned  to  hear  me  out,  and  that  it  is  you  who  is  willing  to  show  me  this  labor  of  love.  never  have  i  laid  eyes  upon  a  garden  so  bountiful.  it  makes  me  wish  i  had  arrived  later  this  year,  only  so  that  i  may  see  the  vines  heavy  with  grapes. ❜  his  gaze  is  directed  back  at  brianne,  searching  and  heavy  &&  like  he  may  see  more  than  merely  her  outward  appearance.  ❛  i  do  hail  from  down  south,  not  far  from  harondor  and  the  basin  of  the  great  river  anduin.  not  much  grows  there,  though  we  have  found  ways  to  coax  life  from  even  brittle  and  dry  earth. ❜

kohl-rimmed  eyes  crinkle  with  a  kind  smile,  showing  merely  the  barest  sliver  of  teeth.  ❛ i  truly  hope  that  trade  will  eventually  prosper  between  our  peoples,  though  i  have  heard  talk  of  you  being  an  industrious  woman.  perhaps  my  worries  are  unfounded. ❜

[plushievash]

did i see a while back that vice has a daughter? please elaborate :-)

yes !! vice is indeed a dilf <3

unfortunately, hes a dilf in mourning bc she is gone </3 but she was a sweet little girl who was an excellent thief like her dad shes his reason for multiclassing into vengeance paladin she was his source of true happiness and purpose so when she was snuffed out he vowed to avenge her and find a way to bring her back no matter the cost, he mainly blames himself though, and his vow was to kill all those responsible for her early demise, so he counts himself as the final target to fulfill his oath hes an assassin but hes also looking for a way to basically take her place, so that she could live the life she never got to :( hed do anything to "make it right" he doesnt let anyone in on that last part because he doesnt want to be stopped, its only until you forge a truly unbreakable bond with him does he reveal his end goal (to which, with a bond that strong, if you play your cards right, you just may be able to convince him that hes repented enough) :') ive thought a lot abt him as both my silly little guy i play and also how hed work as a companion with a quest and all hehe