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dramatisperscnae · 3 months

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𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄’𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 : 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 .

italic for things that sometimes. bold for things that always. strike out what never applies

『 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙰 . 』 giant feather-beds. tightening a corset. moonlit walks. killing for love. cruelty for the sake of love. love is always selfish. romantic tragedy. love to the brink of destruction. nighttime rendezvous. bloody kisses on soft skin. death was the maiden. a very strange agony. claimed by the supernatural. dreaming about your lover. sympathy for the devil. loving me to death. candlesticks lighting up the palm of your hand. a passion that wearies you. killing the one you love.

『 𝙿𝙷𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙾𝙼 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙰 . 』 a single red rose laid out to be found. sensual voices singing them to sleep. a familiar shadow attending every recital. love waits on the rooftop in the night. two soulmates holding hands. walking down long corridors. retrieving something lost. devoting one’s craft to them. making them your muse. the horror was for love. painted faces on parade. gentle touches in the dark. revealing your darkest secrets. beauty and the beast. writing messages on the mirror. kindness conquers all. letting your lover go. love never dies.

『 𝙹𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝙴𝚈𝚁𝙴 . 』 loving the escape. an impassioned affair. being consumed by love. meeting your soulmate. lace and silk. thirsting for the perfect romance. marrying for passion. losing yourself in the face of your lover. wedding veils and bouquets of pink roses. maddened by love. finding warmth in the cold. calling out for your love. starting at the bottom. the fire cleanses all. hiding your passion. your love will destroy me / my love will destroy you.

『 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙸𝙲𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝙳𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙽 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝚈 . 』 painting a portrait or sketching the face of someone you love. meeting in secret. visions of your lover dying. clutching a lover’s clothes to your chest. love so consuming you kill them. protecting their innocence at all costs. betrayal. polyamory. devotion. flowers for the one you love. remembering the name of your first love. jealousy when you see them with someone else. love so consuming you die for it. visiting the the place where you saw them the first time.

『 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙴 𝙲𝚁𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙾 . 』 letters to your lover. marrying for love. these bars can’t keep me from you. motivated by love. an avenging angel. scorching jealousy. love reborn. devoted to memory. it was all for you. going your separate ways. commit murder for me. an unstoppable hunger. death comes for us all. the strongest love eventually grows apart.

『 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚄𝙻𝙰 . 』 the holiest love. girls love wolves. the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. violence is passion. red lips, sharp teeth. love letters in a diary. unrelenting support. getting lost in the woods. coming home to you. walking backwards into hell. vengeance for my love. even death won’t stop me. we can live forever. love is an open wound. too much love to give. bestowing your favor. a never-ending thirst. beauty even in death. ravenous desire. if only death had a heart to give. a mercy killing. these violent delights have violent ends.

『 𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙺𝙴𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙸𝙽 . 』 childhood friends to lovers. they were something out of a dream. arranged marriages. learning to love. was it all really worth it? our guilt can know no bounds. vengeance, my love. dismembered body parts. my beating heart in your open palm. your death destroys me. adam and eve. crossing the mountains. an antagonist in mourning. paradise lost. the loss of innocence. abandoning your dream. the tempest on the horizon. humans are the real monsters. my love is wiser than my hate.

Tagged by: @thecreativeforge Tagging: you?

#dash games #concerning dick #[not at all shocked he nearly got clean sweeps for Phantom and Count tbh >w> A little surprised he had so many for Dorian Gray tho]

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peachypizzicato · 1 year

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turning away from the microphone no yea we’re fucked this is curtains for us

#as soon as i saw a fucking jojo i knew #oh well. made it farther than i could’ve hoped #we had a good run boys we did what we could #if dorian won’t advocate for him someone has to #mrs obama its been an honor o7 #peachyrambles #moneposting #muriel sweep

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robocops-a-christ-allegory · 1 year

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Greg Sweep fucking destroying me

#Polls to hide from everybody at DC so I can try to trick them into doing another Dorian run #All the other Vigilantes are UNDER WATER #Vic Sweep also still in progress but the charlton poll has way more votes in general so its slightly less funny #Kris is catching up now !!! Kris Sweep !!!!

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rpgchoices · 3 months

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The WINNER of the Tournament of fav tumblr rpg male romances is...

The Master of the Vollante

The Babe of Frontiers

The Heart of the Gate

WYLL RAVENGARD

Enjoy this two minute FANVIDEO DEDICATED TO HIM (don't miss the final quote, it is my favorite), I used the most appropriate song ever. Congrats, Wyll with a y!

(he is the hero, but he also needs a hero to sweep him off his feet, get it?)

With about 1235 votes, Wyll beat Garrus in the finals of the tournament. This gives him the title of best tumblr rpg blorbo and babygirl.

(more under cut about the Wyll's sweep and his character)

Wyll jumped into the tournament qualifying among 69 total characters, and being the most voted of his section in round zero! Wyll was also the most voted OVERALL in round one where he got about 6420 votes against Cullen (88% of votes). Round two saw him winning a very close competition against Zevran, and in round three he won with almost double the votes against Astarion! Again with double the votes he won against Dorian Pavus in the semifinals!

Very appropriate for him to win as his character is truly a romantic at heart and his actor even revealed in an interview that the romantic scenes were his favorite to film.

Wyll is a companion and romancable option for any gender in Baldur's Gate 3. You will meet him while he is in pursuit of a devil, just to find out that the honor and code he is trying to live by might be clashing with the path he could be choosing.

Wyll's romance has a kiss that has been nominated (and won) for "favorite kiss ever in a rpg game by me and for my opinion only and I just love it".

Man who will crack a joke when you least expect it

EVEN WHEN IT REALLY IS NOT THE TIME

Just to turn around and offer you the most heart shattering and unwavering support

Monster smasher (in all senses) hero, who truly needs someone at his side who makes sure he fights his own battles too, not just the trials of the coast!

Very happy to see he is currently (with all the biases and limitations of such polls, of course) the favorite romance in the rpg fandoms here on tumblr (for male characters)!!

Please, make sure to also jump in the female characters tournament!!

Also, CONGRATULATIONS TO GARRUS who came second in the tournament, and FENRIS who came third! (as he had more votes than Dorian, in the semifinals)

*In the fanvideo there are the seven clips that are not from Wyll games. I wanted to write them down as this is supposed to be a rec for his romance, so I don't want to trick people!

00:16 I modded Wyll into Karlach and used Astarion as player character (Karlach romance scene act 3)

00:38 Astarion romance scene, I played as Wyll but I flipped the character with the ring of metamorph mod so Wyll could pick up Astarion

00:50 Like the first clip, this is Karlach scene from act 3

00:51 I modded Karlach into Wyll, this is her scene from act 1

00:53 I modded Shadowheart into Astarion and I was playing as Wyll, this is Shadowheart romance scene in act 1

00:59 This is Astarion romance scene in act 2, I was playing as Wyll

01:07 The hug is from Astarion romance, epilogue, where I was playing as Wyll

#wyll ravengard #blade of frontiers #wyll #bg3 wyll #wyllstarion #babe of frontiers #baldur's gate 3 #poll #i conveniently have hours of wyll footage on my pc #tournament of rpg male romances #final round results

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j-nightingalesb1tch · 8 months

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things i would change about dragon age romances:

make solas romancable by both male and female elves. don't limit your biggest romance to only one specific kind of inquisitor.

i'm here for the bi rep always and forever, but leliana being lesbian makes more sense to me.

let cullen be romanced by men as well as women. let a man sweep him off his feet and make him question everything. he deserves that kind of excitement.

make it so that iron bull and dorian will always get together as long as the inquisitor doesn't romance either of them. don't make me idle for five hours to trigger it.

let my warden be in a poly relationship with allistair and zevran. zev is definitely up for it so come on.

make varric a romance option. bioware, i beg you. if i can only have one good thing in my life, let it be that.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age inquisition #da solas #dorian pavus #the iron bull #iron bull #adoribull #varric tethras #da leliana #alistair theirin #zevran ariani #cullen rutherford

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throneofsapphics · 9 months

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to be held

Manorian x f!Reader

Summary: “Manon.” Dorian snaps, his voice raising. She whirls around to him, body still stiff, posture still cold. “She’s been through enough.”

You can tell they’ll fight about this later. “Fine.” Her voice gives slightly, and when she turns back to you her eyes have softened.

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: character injury, hurt and comfort, suggestiveness

A/N: I love the two of them

You aren’t supposed to be here. It’s a classic case - wrong time, wrong place. As soon as the male realizes who you are, he flees. Just outside of the castle walls too, in a blind spot.

That still keeps you slumped on your knees, the knife digging into your side. You know it didn’t hit anywhere fatal. Still, it hurts like a bitch and you, despite the temptation, know better than to yank it out.

Breathe. In and out. Deep breaths until you gather yourself enough to try and rise to your feet. A few stumbles later and your hand braces the wall. The cool stone cuts into your palm, aggravating the scrapes already there from your fall.

Manon and Dorian seem to have a sixth sense for when you’re in trouble, and sure enough they both appeared. Even before the castle guards could find you. Part of you thinks you might be hallucinating.

“Gods,” you hear Dorian first, and he’s then he’s by your side. Real, his touch is real as he carefully holds you upright.

Manon gets one trace of the scent. You watch as she meets Dorian’s eyes. He gives a short nod and she stalks off. On the hunt, and out for blood.

“It was a mistake,” you say weakly. That stops Manon in her tracks.

She turns back. “He hurt you.” Her eyes train on the wound. “He’s going to pay for it.”

You wince, not from pain but from the fate headed for the man. He’s going to wish he’d stabbed himself - or never been born by the time Manon is finished with him.

“He stabbed you, and you still want mercy for him.” Dorian murmurs, his magic already working to heal the small wound as he examines it.

“This is going to hurt.” Dorian says, seeming to hesitate as his hand hovers near the knife handle. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to a healer?” Every time you have any kind of injury - which happens often enough considering you’re clumsy - but that’s usually scrapes or cuts - not stab wounds, you always get Dorian to heal you. Anyone else's magic feels strange. He likes it, even if he won’t admit it.

You deflect, “will you try -”

“No.” He interrupts, already knowing what you’re going to say. Try and at least make it a quick death for him - the man who hurt you. Maybe you are hallucinating a bit - the pain must be making you delirious.

You don’t try and argue with him, focusing all of your attention on breathing and staying conscious. “Pull the knife out or I’ll do it.” You say instead, drawing a dark chuckle out of him.

“Breathe in.” He instructs, and you do, preparing yourself. “Out,” the knife slides against your skin, almost hurting worse than when it went in, now that the adrenaline has worn off. But, his magic is already working and soothing the area, knitting the skin back together.

“Let’s get you home,” he murmurs, deciding it’s healed enough you can be moved. For once, you don’t protest as he sweeps you into his arms. The guards carefully avert their eyes, ignoring the glare coming from the King. Still, chaos had erupted around you - Dorian didn’t need to say a word for everyone to launch into action. They wouldn’t find him before Manon, that’s for sure. A small group of guards fell into step around the two of you while others head out to scout potential threats.

“A big fuss.” You mumble, head pressing into his chest.

“You’ve seen nothing yet.” He says under his breath, ignoring absolutely everyone as he gets you back to your chambers. You hear the underlying message - wait until Manon scares the living daylights out of them. Likely with Abraxos’s aid - and his. By the rage bubbling under his skin, as soon as they both know you’re safe there will be hell to pay.

“How could you be so stupid?” Manon comes in with a roar, three hours later, and you wince. You expected this, but it still doesn’t prepare you for it. “Alone. At dusk..”

“I was -”

“I don’t care what you were doing,” she snarled. “You’re supposed to be smarter than this.”

“Manon.” Dorian says quietly.

“Idiot.” She snaps, and tears start to well in your eyes, her lips are parted, ready to continue berating you

“Manon.” Dorian snaps, his voice raising. She whirls around to him, body still stiff, posture still cold. “She’s been through enough.”

"How are you so calm?" Her voice lowered to a dangerous level.

"I'm not." He said through gritted teeth, but jerked his head towards you. Curled up on the couch, a hand still held protectively to your side, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Maybe part of you wants to be offended that they're only holding it together for your sake, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care.

You can tell they’ll fight about this later. “Fine.” Her voice gives slightly, and when she turns back to you her eyes have softened. She sits next to you, and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Her hand hovers before fingers run through your hair. You realize how strange this must be to her. She’d admitted once, after plied with plenty of alcohol, that intimacy outside of sex is strange to her. You’d watched with cautious eyes and it felt like she was pouring her heart out to you.

“I was raised to be a monster.” The words tug at your heart, but before you can counter her, tell her she isn’t, she keeps speaking and your mouth slams shut. “I am still learning what it’s like to hold, and to be held.” In any other context the words might sound awkward but right now it fits, it slides another puzzle piece into place. One you’re cursing yourself for not figuring out earlier.

“What it’s like without …” Her words trail off, mouth pursing and brow furrowing in an entirely un-Manon like way.

“Sex.” You offer, and she nods gratefully.

“Without sex.”

You lean into the touch, melting against her and she relaxes more, her body loosening. As much as this is for you, this is for her too. Trying to show her love in different ways. You feel rather than see Dorian slide in on your other side. You don’t need to open your eyes to know he’s giving Manon and approving glance and smile. His thumb rubs comforting circles into your thigh as the day catches up with you and your breaths even out, into a welcoming sleep.

You slowly come to consciousness, but fake your sleep as you hear them arguing quietly above you.

“She needs to train.” Manon hisses.

“We can’t force her to.” Dorian counters, but you can tell he agrees.

Sure, you know basic self defense but taking up a blade is something you’ve never had any interest in. But now … now you have motivation to.

“I’ll do it.” You grumble, already knowing you’ll regret the words.

Especially when Manon says, “Good. We start in the morning.”

Dorian let out what might be a commiserating sigh, covered quickly by an “I’ll be there too.”

The next morning is hell. Well aware Manon’s visit ends in a few days, she seems determined to teach you as much as she possibly can.

“Again.” She orders, but you cross your arms.

“It’s been three hours.”

“I think you can go a little longer,” shadow hands graze your shoulders, down your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When did Dorian get here? His real hands, gently hold your shoulders now as he bends to whisper in your ear. “We’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”

He straightens, this time speaking to Manon. “Won’t we.”

“Depends how well she listens.”

With that reward on the line, you don’t hesitate to raise your arms again.

#manorian x reader #manorian x y/n #manon blackbeak x reader #manon blackbeak x y/n #manon x reader #manon x y/n #dorian havilliard x reader #dorian havilliard x y/n #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fic #throne of glass #hurt and comfort #I need to go to sleep

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bunniebubbleswrites · 1 year

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Hiya bunnie how are you?

I hope your well..I was wondering if I could request a Larissa x FemReader where reader has a lot of nightmares that keep her up so she doesn’t sleep well, really ever..so therefore our beloved principle catches her awake at extremely late hours of the night?

Thank you!!

Much love ❤️

Nightmares

Larissa Weems x F! Reader

A/N: I am doing great! This was actually super fun to write! I also have trouble sleeping so I thought this request was kind of funny!

Warnings: None it's just pure fluff

Words: 1905

5:30 am

You laid awake in your bed staring at the dark ceiling, every time you closed your eyes it was just nightmare after nightmare. You couldn’t remember the last time you had actually gotten a good night's sleep. It was always a few hours here and a few hours there. You sighed and pulled the comforter off yourself. You sat on the edge of your bed staring down into the darkness.

You glanced up at the digital alarm clock, the glowing numbers read 5:30. You had to be up in half an hour anyways. You leaned over your nightstand and turned your light on.

You walked over towards your wardrobe and pulled out a long sleeve dress that went down to your ankles. You slipped it on over your head and grabbed your tennis shoes and put them by the door before heading into the bathroom that was attached to your bedroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and the dark bags under your eyes were more evident than ever. You grabbed your makeup bag from the counter and dug through it looking for your concealer. You would hide the fact that you had trouble sleeping forever if you had to. You skillfully applied the concealer under your eyes and blended it out with your finger.

5:50 am

You walked back into your bedroom and walked over to your nightstand and grabbed your watch off your nightstand and slipped it onto your wrist adjusting it to make sure it stayed in its place. You looked down at your watch, checking the time. You walked over the door and slipped on your shoes and looked through your bag making sure you had everything for your classes that day.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray, notebook, pencil case, computer, keys. Ok I have everything.” You mumbled to yourself as you grabbed your cardigan off of the trunk at the end of your bed and slipped it on. Grabbing your bag you slipped out of your room and checked your watch once again.

6:01 am

You had plenty of time to go set up your classroom and make your way back to the staff room to get coffee. You made your way out of the hall where all the teacher’s sleeping quarters were and started for your classroom.

6:13 am

It was a quick 12 minute walk from the teacher’s sleeping quarters to your classroom. It was a walk you made every day. You knew the path by heart. You pulled out your keys and unlocked your classroom door. Once you walked into the classroom you flicked the lights on setting down your bag in your desk chair. You went over to the windows and opened up the blinds letting some natural light filter into your classroom.

You walked back over to your desk, pulling out your computer and setting it on your desk along with the book your students were reading, and your notebook and pencil case on the side next to them.

You set your bag down next to your desk and looked over your classroom and noticed that the floor needed to be swept so you went over to a closet in the back of the room and pulled out a broom and dust pan. Sweeping the floor only took about ten minutes.

6:45 am

You checked your watch once again and decided your classroom was in good enough shape. The floor had been swept, the desk cleaned off. You grabbed your keys off your desk and locked the room behind you as you left.

You walked towards the staff room hearing the chatter of your colleagues grow louder as you got closer. You walked into the room and there sat at the table was Larissa, Marilyn and Vlad. You gave them all a small smile and walked over to one of the cupboards that was above the coffee machine.

You looked up into the cupboard looking for your mug and you found it on a shelf you could not reach. Not wanting to pull anyone away from their conversation, you stood on the tips of your toes trying to reach your mug on the top shelf wondering who put it there in the first place.

You felt a presence behind you as you saw a pale hand reach for your mug and gently hand it to you, her hand brushing yours. “Thank you Larissa.”

“It’s not a problem, you could have asked for help earlier.” She smiled at you as she reached for the coffee pot.

“I don’t know who put it up there.” You laughed slightly, your face flushing just slightly. She offered to pour your coffee for you and you gladly accepted. She took the mug from your hands and poured the rest of what was left in the pot into your mug.

She handed it back to you and set it on the counter and walked over to the fridge and pulled out the creamer.

“Hey, guys I'm finishing off the creamer, I'll go out on Saturday and get some more.” You looked at the group sitting at the table.

You poured the last of the coffee creamer into your mug and threw the container away. You started another pot of coffee and went to sit down at the table with the other three people in the room.

“You seem awfully energetic today.” Vlad said as you sat down at the table with a wide smile on your face. You glanced up at the coach and shook your head bashfully.

“It’s the coffee I guess.” You laughed lightly in response while taking a sip of your coffee.

8:00 am

You sat at your desk as students filled in for the hour. The bell rang through the classroom and you stood from your desk and addressed the students.

“Okay class, take out your books and we’ll continue our reading from yesterday, after you all are finished we can have a class discussion about it.” You said giving them a smile and sitting back at your desk to finish grading papers.

For a lot of your classes it was just the students doing independent work or catching up on things they missed or had not turned in yet. Lunch came and went and then classes resumed.

4:07 pm

Finally the end of your day. You stood from your desk for the final time that day stretching out your stiff limbs. You closed your computer and packed up your things, running over everything to make sure you wouldn’t have to come back later.

You slung your cardigan over your arms as you locked up your classroom. You yawned and made your way back to your quarters. Once inside you put everything in its rightful place. You walked over to your wardrobe and pulled out some thin gray sweats and a black tank along with a hoodie you had stolen from your dad a while back.

You made your way over to the small kitchenette all the teachers had in their room. Of course you could use the big kitchen but this one was just more convenient. You grabbed out a pan from one of the bottom cabinets and filled it with water and waited for it to start boiling. Pasta again tonight.

10:48 pm

You sat on your bed with a book in your hands, you turned the last page and let out a sigh. That's the third book you’ve finished this week and it was only Tuesday. You closed the book and set it on your night stand. You pulled the comforter over you. You were determined to get at least a good three hours of sleep tonight.

12:58 am

You had been tossing and turning for hours, or that's what it seemed to be. You sat up, maybe some tea would help. You slipped on your shoes and made your way down to the teachers lounge. You had put your mug in place that you could actually reach this time.

You pulled your mug out of the cupboard along with the tea and found the kettle to put some water on. You sat at the table in the lounge just scrolling away on your phone before you knew it, it was already 1 am.

1:30 am

You were sipping on your tea and scrolling through your phone. You hadn’t seen her come in, you hadn't even heard the door open. You only noticed her presence when she had spoken.

“(Y/N), what are you doing up so late?” Larissa was leaning on the door frame, her hair was down. It was a lot longer than you thought it would be. You shyly smiled at her.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied slightly holding up to show her your mug of tea. She smiled back at you and walked over towards you, sitting across from you.

“Care to tell me why you couldn’t sleep?” Larissa asked you her blue eyes looking deeply into yours.

“This might sound kind of silly,” You stopped mid sentence embarrassed. You looked at her as she nodded for you to keep going. “I couldn’t sleep because I was having nightmares.” You let out a pitiful laugh and looked back down to the mug in your hands.

“No, it’s not silly at all,” Larissa gave you some positive reassurance. “Maybe we could go for a walk, just until you get tired.”

You nodded and pocketed your phone. The two of you stood from the table in the staff room and walked out, your mug forgotten on the table.

2:10 am

You and Larissa found yourself sitting in her office on the couch in front of the fireplace. Your head was resting on her shoulder and you just listened to her talk, you weren’ t even sure what she was talking about anymore all you knew was that you were tired.

“(Y/N), do you want to rest your head on my lap?”

“Hm?” You looked up at her in a haze of sleep. She let out a small laugh and placed a kiss on your forehead.

You put your head back on her shoulder and she rested her head on your own, her own hand slipping into yours.

6:10 am

You woke up on the couch of Larissa’s office. Your face flushed when the memories from the night before came flooding back into your memory.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Here I made you some tea.” She hands you a mug and you take it from her.

“Thank you Larissa, that was the best I've slept in a while.” You smiled up at her as she sat down next to you.

“The next time you have trouble sleeping, you’re more than welcome to come find me.”

You nodded letting out a hum letting her know you understood the offer as you set your mug down on the floor.

You both looked at each other for a moment before you pressed your lips to hers, your hands finding their way to her cheeks. It took a second but Larissa kissed back.

“Oh my god I- I shouldn’t have-”

“(Y/N) it’s okay,” Larissa flushed just slightly. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while actually.”

You let out a small laugh as you took her hands in yours. You were never happier that you had been caught last night.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #principal weems #principal weems x reader #larissa weems #ask answered

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blond-jerk-tourney · 5 months

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Honey Bracket: Round 3, Poll 1

Rose illustration by @wraith_ly on twitter!

Propaganda from submitters Under Cut

Rose Thorburn Jr.

uhh. i can't actually give or read full rose propaganda because i haven't actually. Finished reading the book. and i guarantee she does some real heinous shit when she gets back that i don't know about yet. but rose fucking sweep. rose thorburn kill them with demons.

She certainly doesn't get *less* jerkish across the story, I can tell you that

Rose is literally responsible for multiple people getting CONSUMED BY DEMONS. She was LITERALLY designed to be a Machiavellian piece of shit and it’s only by pure luck that she has any kind of heart or compassion, greatest girlboss I’ve ever seen, bless her heart (she deserves hell)

Rose thorburn was given a sapient clone of her but if she was a better person (and also a guy) to use as a sacrificial lamb slash meatshield against the assembled magical and karmic forces attempting to kill her for her family's history of using demons for Evil Shit & in response she knowingly manipulated him towards those ends while selfishly seeking emotional comfort from him, e.g forcibly hugging him despite being fully aware that he has intense trauma around touch + finds it triggering. she is a cunt. she is an icon. she is knowingly allowing herself to be possessed by the literal incarnation of conquest because it's making her better at being a cunt. and that's just in the part of the obscenely long webnovel i have actually finished thus far

Dorian Gray

Look okay every film adaptation has gotten this wrong but in the original book Dorian has blond hair and blue eyes and is described as looking "like an angel." also his whole thing is that he ends up being a hedonistic brat and is canonically so mean to he girlfriend sybil at one point that she... uh... vacates the story with some poison. he also killed his totally not gay buddy basil after he found the portrait.

the original hedonistic brat. my son that i am always disappointed in. had two shots at love and decided to be a dick about it. has a haunted portrait that gets uglier each time he sins. what a guy, really.

Dorian drove a lovely young girl to suicide and I think that's worse than men dying

Dorian killed the man that was in love with him (Basil) because he found out about the painting and didn’t want to get exposed as being the horrible person that he is. Also all the stuff with Sybil (the girl he manipulated and drove to suicide) Also Sybil’s brother is so righteously angry at Dorian for the event that he hunts Dorian down to kill him. He doesn’t succeed cause dorian destroys the painting first. Like, even his last stand was a bitch move. Dorian was a coward to the end and died alone in an attic after pushing everyone that loved him away with his terrible actions.

#honey bracket #honey bracket round 3 #polls #tournament polls #pactblr #pact #pact web serial #rose thorburn jr #dorian gray #the picture of dorian gray #blond jerk tournament

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railroad-migraine · 1 year

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hello lovely! you’re my favorite bells hells writer, you just hit the nail on the head with every post and i’m so excited everytime i get the notif that you posted

if your requests are still open and you have the time/want to, could you do a bells hells x reader with the prompt “please just hold me?”, like maybe reader had a nightmare or something and asks the party to hold them? please and thank you !!!!

Hello darling! Your words made me all warm and fuzzy, I'm honoured to be a favourite something hehehe. I did a similar post here for when the reader is afraid of the dark, if you're interested :)

~ Poet

"Please Just... Hold Me?"

-> S/O has a nightmare

Ashton 💙

Fuck- Shit- I mean, sure. Sure. C'mere. I'll keep you close.

Even though you're the one seeking comfort, Ashton initially freaks out a little bit themselves. They're not used to the vulnerability that comes with bad dreams, especially when it's being shared with someone he cares about.

Before you give him the go-ahead, his hands are hovering in mid air, clueless on whether or not it's okay to touch you.

They're not the best at words in situations like this, so they let their body do the talking for them. Toned arms pull you into their lap, one hand gently running up and down your back as you calm down.

His crystalised skull glints and catches the miniscule light in your shared room. A little rainbow makes a wobbly appearance on the headboard. Their body is strong and grounding beneath you.

Chetney 💙

Give me time and I'll figure out a way to punch nightmares. It's not impossible if it's for you. I'd do anything for you.

He's got his mind set on that end goal, and Chet doesn't give up easily. But it can wait for another day. A day where you're not trembling beside him.

Because of how smol he is, it's less him holding you and more him being scooped up into your lap with his arms around your neck. Your nose is pressed into his shoulder as he mutters soft words into your ear.

He makes teary attempts at making you laugh, something to distract you both from the water pooling in the corners of your eyes.

He keeps an eye on you in the morning, a subtle way of checking in. He doesn't bring it up in conversation - the man respects your privacy too much.

Dorian 💙

Do you even need to ask? Of course I'll hold you. You're safe with me. I won't let anything happen to you. They can't touch you now.

He feels a little helpless in the moment, his very being flooded with cautious alarm when you reach out for him blindly in the dark. He's not the strongest, nor the bravest, but he'll be your rock and help you through this as best he can.

Pretty words are what he lives on though, and he knows just what to say to make everything feel a little bit better. Sweet nothings and intimate musings drip from the lips that rest on the crown of your head.

His fingers sweep in soothing circles across your skin, and you cling to his silk shirt and silky hair as he guides your fluttering heartbeat to steady to a more restful rhythm.

Sings you lullabies of crisp apples in spring and warm sunshine that kisses the face of a dear lover. Those nightmares are easily kept at bay while you lay beside him.

Fearne 💙

Oh dear. It's just not fair, is it? Don't worry, baby, I got you. Ol' Fearnie's here now.

She's so naturally tender with you. In the daytime, Fearne teases relentlessly, pokes and prods and says sweet flirty things that make you want to curl up into a tight little ball and burn from embarrassment.

But here, she smooths back sweat soaked wispy hairs away from your forehead, presses her lips to your forehead and hushes your unnecessary apologies.

A light floral scent envelopes your entire being like a blanket while she encases you in her arms, her downy fur there feather soft and cosy.

Little Mister lifts his head from the foot of the bed and scampers up to hold your free hand, coos quiet. The other stays placed on top of Fearne's sleep dress, right over her heart. The heart that beats for you.

Imogen 💙

I know what it's like, love. Trust me, I do. I'm not going anywhere. Whatever you need, big or small, it's yours.

Of all the party members, you know that Imogen is the most familiar with nightmares. You've spent many sleepless nights sitting with her, smoothing back her hair and holding a cup of water to her lips as she calms down from vivid visions with vague meanings.

The storm can be so vast and crimson at times, unbearable even. It terrifies her, makes her anxious when it's bedtime. Even if she tries to hide it, you can tell.

But when you're distressed and whimpering under the covers beside her, she pushes those thoughts away and tries to be a bit braver. Braver for you. It's the least she can offer.

She cradles you into her side like you're some glass object that could shatter, her words and thoughts soothing you until sleep or daylight finds you both.

Laudna 💙

Those bad dreams have some nerve poking around in your head. They wouldn't dare if they knew what I could do. Lay back, precious thing.

Like Chetney, Laudna makes the nightmares out to be a personal enemy. They're cruel and unworthy of someone so good such as yourself. Just out of reach so that she can't protect you from them.

If she could, she would show them how scary-scary she can actually truly be.

But until she has the power to physically strangle the embodiment of your bad dreams, she fluffs your pillow and helps you lean back onto the mattress. She's humming something quietly, a lullaby of some sort, her fingers gingerly stroking your face once she's cuddled into you.

She asks if you want to talk about what you dreamt, and respects however you answer. Works you through what you remember and curls her fingers around your own as you speak.

Orym 💙

Hey, hey. Look at me. Hey. Hi. It's me. You're alright, okay? I'm right here. We're alright. Just focus on me.

He lights a candle quicky, and you now are able to see the concern on his face that the shadows previously hid from you. There's a sadness in his eyes, but it's overpowered by the protectiveness in his actions.

He perches at your side, cupping your face while his thumbs gently wipe away crusty sleep from your eyes, soft smile brighter than the flame on the nightstand.

A sprig of lavender grows effortlessly from his palm and he tucks it in between your pillows to help you sleep better when you feel ready to.

Orym has had his fair share of nightmares, and helps you through it like he approaches everything - with practiced carefulness and kindness that is so good in nature that the bad dreams dare not linger.

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jewels-writes · 1 year

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Kissing His Scars (Arno Dorian x Reader)

Prompt: Kissing their scars and bruises Pairing: Arno Dorian x Reader Warnings: Healed scars

The soft golden light of the setting sun spilled into the room, casting a warm glow on the walls as I entered. My footsteps were quiet, muffled by the plush carpet beneath my feet. The scent of lavender filled the air, a soothing aroma that embraced the space.

As I rounded the corner, my eyes were drawn to the sight of Arno sitting on the edge of the bed, his shirt discarded beside him. His strong, lean form was etched with scars and bruises, a testament to the battles he had fought, the sacrifices he had made.

A wave of tenderness washed over me, my heart aching at the sight of his battered body. With a gentle step, I approached him, my fingertips grazing his shoulder lightly. Arno turned to face me, his gaze meeting mine, a mix of weariness and strength reflected in his eyes.

Without a word, I knelt down before him, my hands trembling slightly as they reached for the first scar that adorned his chest. Each mark told a story, whispered of trials faced and triumphs won. I pressed my lips to the rugged terrain, a tender kiss that conveyed both admiration and empathy.

Arno's breath hitched, a vulnerable flicker passing through his gaze. He watched me intently, as if in awe of the gesture, his defenses crumbling with every touch of my lips against his skin.

Moving with slow reverence, I trailed my kisses along his collarbone, tracing the pathway of a battle wound. My lips danced over the faint lines, offering solace and comfort, as if I could somehow heal the pain of the past.

As I leaned in closer, my hands cradled his face, the pads of my thumbs sweeping over the fading bruises that marred his features. I pressed feather-light kisses to his brow, his cheekbones, each gentle touch a testament to my love and admiration for the man before me.

Time seemed to stand still as I poured my affection into every touch, every kiss. Arno's guard melted away, his gaze softening as he surrendered to the tenderness bestowed upon him.

In that intimate moment, the room was filled with a profound understanding. It was a silent promise that I would be there to ease his burdens, to heal not just his physical wounds, but the scars that ran deeper.

Finally, as I pressed one last kiss to his lips, a silent message passed between us. It was a vow to support one another, to embrace the battles yet to come, and to find solace in the healing power of love.

Arno's lips curled into a gentle smile, a flicker of gratitude and affection gracing his expression. He whispered, his voice filled with emotion, "Thank you, my love. Your touch, your kisses—they remind me that I'm not alone."

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jazzmckay · 5 months

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oh! kiss meme, adoribull, 36 :)

36. …to give up control.

excellent prompt, tysm!! it was a fun challenge :> i totally meant to write smut, because obviously, but then my brain went places and now here's this sort of abstract interpretation of the prompt. i should still write the smut tho. it's what they deserve.

so, featuring: dorian pining and sorting through Tevinter Baggage, and dorian & sera friendship because i love them your honour.

***

Dorian stands at the window of his library nook, a book balanced on one palm to act as a guise. His attention is not on the page of yet another borderline useless tome, but through the foggy glass that grants him a view of the courtyard below. The portcullis has been cranked open, where a couple dozen mounts are saddled and ready, their riders taking their places. At the front, The Iron Bull pulls himself onto his massive Frostback elk, then calls something to the others gathered around him.

Dorian wonders what Bull is saying, but it was his own decision to remain at a distance rather than seeing the Chargers off.

When subtly pressed, Adaar divulged that they would be cleaning raiders out of the Hinterlands. That’s not overly far. Better than crossing Orlais to the Wastes, certainly. They won’t be gone so long.

With a soft sigh, Dorian turns from the window, not wanting to watch them leave. He makes a conscious effort to actually read the passage that his unseeing eyes roved over and over while he was utterly distracted watching the Chargers gear up and get ready to go.

In the end, he wishes he hadn’t bothered with the book. No better than drivel. Dorian pushes the book back onto the shelf, and decides he would be better served finding a different distraction.

The first time Rilienus leaned in for a kiss, Dorian turned his face away, receiving upon his neck what was meant for his lips. He’d wanted to kiss Rilienus, he’d wanted that and much, much more—more than they could ever have together. Dorian already knew what was planned for both of them, and it was only a matter of time.

He should not get attached. (He was already attached.) He should not allow himself to consider what-ifs. (He had already wondered if Rilienus would risk as much as Dorian would for a chance at true happiness.) Giving someone so much sway over his heart is a terrifying, dangerous thing. (Luckily—or unluckily—Dorian does not scare easily.)

Rilienus didn’t push the matter. In time, Dorian still ended up learning the shape and taste of his lips anyway.

What a tragedy, that.

“Bet it takes you so long to get out of those buckles it counts as edging.”

Dorian snorts inelegantly. He will blame that on the crude southern wine they’re drinking tonight. “If you fell asleep in the stables, the horses would mistake your hair for hay.”

Sera wiggles her toes as she laughs. Her foot is braced upon Dorian’s thigh, and he’s trying his darnedest to keep his hand steady enough to paint her toenails with grace despite how sloppy they’ve gotten over the course of the night. It’s more than late; the tavern around them has emptied, leaving them to hide away in Sera’s wonderful little nest.

“Do ‘Vints take classes in school for how to be prissy?”

“As a matter of fact, we do.” Dorian carefully sweeps the brush along the curve of Sera’s nail, finishing off the smallest toe. “At least I retained something of my education.”

She huffs and kicks him with her other foot, upon which the paint is already dry. “Not a good thing! They teach you nug dung!”

Dorian chuckles under his breath as he caps the paint jar and slides closer to her on the bench, repositioning her legs across his lap. He grabs their current bottle of wine to take a mouthful of it, then rests back in the many pillows Sera has amassed over the months. It’s surprisingly comfortable. More comfortable than lying alone in his own room.

As he drinks, she waves her foot around, inspecting it. “Now I’ve gotta act like an elfy elf and walk around barefoot so everyone can see.”

“You do not,” Dorian says. He hands her the bottle back. “They should please you first and foremost, before anyone else. Or you should finally sleep with that Valo-Kas you’ve been drooling over.”

“Oi.” She nudges him with her leg. “Don’t get on my arse about drooling.”

Groaning, Dorian tips his head back into the pillows, closing his eyes. Sera was with them and Adaar when The Iron Bull so casually announced their affairs, completely shameless and lacking in tact, as if he had nothing to hide.

It should not have been stirring. But to hear a man publicly address their budding relationship, and to revel in it? That was new and rousing, even if equally frustrating, as Dorian’s inclination is still to remain quiet about such things. Being open about his affections is a fairy tale.

The Iron Bull didn’t seem to think it so complicated.

The wine bottle gets pushed against his shoulder. “Can see you tying your head into knots,” Sera says softly, half in empathy, half sleepily.

Dorian accepts the bottle and takes a drink. It’s light in his grasp—almost finished. They should probably call it a night, but Dorian is quite comfortable exactly where he is, here with Sera draped over him and the scent of wine and varnish in the air.

“It’s been a fortnight,” Dorian says. I miss him, is what he means.

“Didn’t seem too fussed about him leavin’.”

No, of course not. Despite The Iron Bull’s lack of subtlety, their relationship is still largely a secret—Dorian has no doubt that the knowledge has spread a little, but not too broadly, for which he is grateful. Having attachments, he has learned, is risky, and it is even riskier for those attachments to be known by others. He has made it more complicated by growing fond of a qunari, even if said qunari recently became Tal-Vashoth. That distinction would not matter a jot to people like his parents.

Not that he particularly cares what they think anymore, but old habits die hard.

“Bit daft, if you ask me,” Sera continues. She pauses to yawn, then burrows into the cushions. “You find someone like that, you should be yelling it from the rooftops.”

Dorian’s chest clenches, and he curls his fingers tighter around the neck of the wine bottle. If only it could be so simple to let joy override reason, to think nothing of consequences, to not only let someone have all of him, but to let the world know it to be the case. To be open about one’s affections is to invite everyone else’s opinion, to invite all manner of weakness and vulnerabilities. This is a lesson Dorian learned the hard way.

He lifts the bottle and drinks the last of it, setting it on the floor with the one they already emptied earlier. How nice it would be, to have Sera’s certainty and boldness when it comes to matters of love.

“You are far wiser than your conduct suggests,” Dorian says, as light-hearted as all their jabs at each other.

When Sera doesn’t respond, he glances over at her, finding her with her face squished into the pillows, lips slightly parted as she breathes in an even ebb and flow. Dorian can’t help but smile to himself at the sight. To think she once looked upon him with wariness.

Carefully, Dorian gathers her legs again, slipping out from beneath her and laying them back down on the cushions. He is in no rush to return to his own room, so he simply sits back down on the other end of the bench, removes his boots, and fits his legs up alongside hers, letting the wine and the soft rhythm of her breathing lull him to sleep.

Adaar and Josephine have become sickeningly sweet in recent days. They greet guests and diplomats to Skyhold while arm in arm, and Adaar always leans down to kiss Josephine before they part ways, sometimes on the lips, sometimes on the cheek. Their love is evident in how they smile at each other. Dorian is happy for them.

They make it look so easy.

Feeling wistful, Dorian imagines how it might have felt to have that with Rilienus, if their Tevinter peers cared not for the fact that they were two men, just as no one here cares that Adaar and Josephine are two women, one of whom is an Antivan with status while the other used to be naught but a qunari mercenary.

It’s still a pretty fantasy to think of what might have been with Rilienus, but Dorian knows a little something about falling for a qunari mercenary himself. His imaginings quickly turn to The Iron Bull’s large hand resting against his back, to the way he laughs deep and unrestrained, to fighting beside each other so intuitively, to how he makes Dorian feel like something precious in their private moments.

Dorian would not like to look back on this years from now with yearning, wishing he had allowed himself more. Not when the only thing stopping him from having more right now is himself.

As the week comes to a close, Dorian grows ever more agitated, wishing he knew when the Chargers would be back in Skyhold. It can’t be much longer now, he thinks.

He used to be so much more patient than this. His dalliance with Rilienus had been careful and covert—they couldn’t be seen slipping away together too often, they had to make time between their obligations, they were used to stolen moments and pretending not to care so deeply while in the presence of others.

Dorian supposes he doesn’t find the clandestine nature of it as romantic as it felt at the time. Now, he wants something solid, something he can rely on. He wants to be at The Iron Bull’s side whenever he so chooses.

He wants to let go of the lessons taught to him by his home country.

During a game of chess with Cullen, Dorian maintains a casual expression as he asks, “Is there any word on when the Chargers will be returning?”

Cullen lifts his eyes from the board to regard him, but as Dorian anticipated, he doesn’t question Dorian’s reason for asking, merely says, “They sent a raven when they finished their mission; they’re already well on their way back to Skyhold.”

As someone who doesn’t like others prying into his business, Cullen tends not to do much prying himself, unless he must as Commander. They’re friends, besides—Dorian wouldn’t even mind telling Cullen about his relationship with The Iron Bull. But Cullen doesn’t ask, and Dorian enjoys the opportunity to play at shifting his boundaries without being questioned.

He also takes the opportunity to nudge a chess piece onto a different tile while Cullen’s attention is upwards.

Cullen still takes the game despite Dorian’s best efforts. He was, perhaps, a little distracted with the thought of having The Iron Bull back in his bed before long.

Dorian is sitting in the library with a book open on his thigh when the horn sounds from below to signal a returning party. Without even considering it first, he snaps the book shut, sets it aside, and stands. He has never greeted The Iron Bull and the Chargers at the gates before, always waiting until it would not be out of place, until they can convene in one of their bedchambers for the night, but this time will be different.

He takes the steps down into the base of the rotunda, then into the main hall. No one glances twice at him, no one wonders where he’s going or why. It’s easy as anything to continue outside, into the lower courtyard, where there’s a bit of bustle as the stables are being prepared for mounts that need tending, and others merely wait to see friends return. The Chargers are well-liked. They tend to have an audience when they’re all gathered together like this.

It isn’t a long wait, blissfully. The clop and clatter of horse hooves sounds against the bridge leading into the keep, and then the Chargers—with The Iron Bull at the helm—are pouring through the raised portcullis, looking travel-worn but whole and happy to be home. The Iron Bull is always a sight to behold, but especially now, he is in his element, looking every part the strong, powerful mercenary, all muscle and assurance.

Needing to be at this side, Dorian starts forward, weaving his way through the onlookers. All of them will see him approach the Chargers, all of them will be watching. There is still a kneejerk lurch in Dorian’s stomach at the thought of losing this secret, of having to weather whatever follows, but he intends to be fearless again.

The Iron Bull dismounts and rolls his shoulders back, warding away the stiffness that comes from riding long distances. He turns, almost immediately spotting Dorian in the crowd. He smiles openly, though it’s still restrained, as he knows Dorian worries about what people will think.

Dorian smiles back. He breaks through the throng of people and continues up to the Chargers, who are starting to draw their horses over to the stables. The Iron Bull only stands where he is, at his mount’s flank, and watches Dorian intently.

“Hey, big guy. Missed me that much, did you?” he says when Dorian reaches him, low enough not to be overheard.

Normally, Dorian might make a quip rather than respond with honesty, hiding behind flippancy or even jests. Today, he says, “Very much so.”

He lifts a hand, resting it on the strap of The Iron Bull’s harness, fingertips hooking over the top of the heavy leather. Kissing The Iron Bull like this is always so deliberate—Dorian must stretch up on the tips of his toes, or else tug The Iron Bull closer. He does both, and sees the question on The Iron Bull’s face before Dorian captures his lips in a kiss.

Dorian has always been too aware of those around them during moments of stolen intimacy in public. Every time they end up leaning into each other at the Herald’s Rest, every time they catch each other’s gaze too long to be merely friendly, every gesture that can be interpreted as more—but now, he thinks nothing of their surroundings. The ache in his chest from missing The Iron Bull begins to unravel, smoothing into affection and contentment. The Iron Bull wraps an arm around his back, solid and warm.

It’s like restrictive bonds being cut loose. Like being released from a cage of his own making.

“Dorian?” The Iron Bull murmurs against his lips, asking for an explanation through tone more than words.

“Let them see; let them think what they will,” Dorian says. He cannot control how others will react, nor how this may change others’ perception of him, but he has made the choice to not compromise himself for others before. He can do it again. “Besides, they should all know you’re mine, I think.”

The Iron Bull grins crookedly, slipping his hand lower on Dorian’s back and tugging him closer by the hips. “Is that so?”

“Naturally. I will demonstrate this fact,” Dorian says, “after you no longer smell of blood and horse.”

In response, The Iron Bull nuzzles his nose into Dorian’s cheek, laughing softly when Dorian sighs.

This is the man who holds Dorian’s heart, and Dorian has no regrets, not about their relationship, nor about what others think. It’s freeing to acknowledge that. To no longer hide, to no longer fret, to no longer keep such a firm grasp on a secret that should not need to be a secret at all.

Dorian smiles and squeezes his fingers around The Iron Bull’s arm, finding himself not only unafraid of this public intimacy, but savouring it.

It’s something he’s been missing, and he’ll never have to go without it again.

#ask meme #my fic #adoribull #dorian pavus #the iron bull #sera #dragon age

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