#Dark Urge: Mal

[blood-bagz]

Came from a pair of testicles, call me a Ballspawn Got some inspo from @oathbreakerapologist's awesome white on black sketches. Go look at them. And his dark urge rocks

[gaylittleguys]

unstoppable force vs immovable object

[qrowscant]

dirge remembered he likes men and murdering people but forgot the fact he is transgender

[mercymaker]

ENVER GORTASH & THE DARK URGE

[bisclavaret]

favourite daughter

[re-venge]

mal tiefling bard/rogue | kieren half-drow paladin/sorcerer

i finally finished my tav and durge runs after almost a year so here. look at my fucking guys

[haemosexuality]

was talking w my cousin (not the 11 yrs old one) about bg3 and he said that in his dark urge playthrough he wants to romance karlach. no one tell him

[jarebear20]

Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.

[watcherwarden]

Normalise making edits of your own character

[icterid-rubus]

Two years later and I have finally watched the last episode of season one Shadow and Bone. Unstoppable resolve 😤

[moonstruckme]

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

steve harrington + friends to lovers maybe? definitely feeling lovesick steve rn 😮‍💨

Thanks for requesting lovely mal <3

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 698 words

The movie theater is dark, and yet Steve catches sight of you the second you step inside. His heart does a dumbass little somersault. 

“Y/n’s here?” he whispers to Robin, who’s sitting next to him and using her licorice as a straw. On his other side, Eddie’s kicked his feet up on the seat in front of him like a total asshole. 

“Oh, yeah.” Robin waves to you, and you spot them, heading over. “I invited her.” 

“You didn’t say she was coming.” 

Robin gives Steve a sideways glance. It’s tinged with a meaning he refuses to decode. “I didn’t realize I needed to check with you.” 

He huffs. You’re climbing the steps, still three rows from reaching them. “Move over by Eddie.” 

Robin turns towards him now, eyebrows raising. “You’re not serious.” 

“Go!” 

“Dingus.” She musses his hair spitefully as she stands, just so he’ll have to fix it, waving over her shoulder at you as you start shimmying down their row. 

You wave back, smiling bemusedly as you take her seat beside Steve. “Hey,” you say. 

“Hey.” He’s grinning like an idiot, and he can’t seem to stop. He wasn’t expecting to see you today. “Long time, no see.” 

You go a bit sheepish, the previews casting a red hue over your features. “Yeah, sorry. Work’s been keeping me busy lately. Three people quit at once, so everyone’s expected to cover until they can hire new ones.” 

Steve grimaces. “Yikes.” He has the urge to tell you to quit and let him pay for everything, as if that’s something he can fiscally manage or even remotely normal. “That sucks,” he says instead. 

“Yeah, hopefully it’s not for long.” You get comfy, slipping off your shoes and putting your socked feet up on the seat. Your knees lean onto your shared armrest, within a pinkie’s reach of Steve’s hand. “I actually just got off, I didn’t grab anything from concessions because I was worried I’d miss the beginning.” 

“Oh, no way.” The movie starts, and he lowers his voice but neither of you turn towards the screen. “Want me to run and grab you something?”

You give him a funny smile. It makes your cupid’s bow flatten out and Steve thinks that if he were to kiss you, he’d start there. “No,” you whisper, “you shouldn’t have to miss anything either.” 

“It’s okay,” he promises you. “I don’t even really care if I see this.” He has been looking forward to it ever since he saw the commercial, honestly, but he’s happy to miss it for you. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, “but thanks, Steve.” 

“At least have some of mine.” Eddie shushes him loudly, and Steve kicks the underside of his knee, making the other boy curse. “I’ve got coke and popcorn, that okay?” 

The movie glows blue over your face as you grin, eyes twinkling in the low light. “Classics. But I’m not gonna take your food.” 

“I’m not gonna eat it all,” Steve argues. “These are both extra-larges. You think I bought that all for myself?” He absolutely did. 

You lean in closer, your knees touching the side of his hand. “You paid for them,” you whisper. 

“So?”

“So, I’d feel bad.” 

“Then make it up to me.” Steve hopes he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. He’s never been able to lay on the charm with you like he can with other girls, he doesn’t know why. Or maybe he does. “Come with us back to my place tonight. We’re ordering pizza.” 

“So,” you murmur through a smile, “make it up to you by taking more of your food, is what you’re saying.” 

“Uh-huh, exactly.” He takes a sip of his coke and then angles the straw in your direction. “Deal?” 

You drop your eyes for a second, shaking your head like he’s silly, and Steve knows he’s won even before you meet his gaze again. 

“Deal.” You wrap your lips around his straw, sucking in a mouthful before letting go. “You drive a hard bargain, Harrington.” 

Steve grins, laying bay in his seat and totally not thinking about how his pinkie is grazing your thigh. “Yeah, that’s what they tell me.” 

[heyitsjaki]

For your other characters from Ladykillers, who would romance who in BG3?

Allow me to answer your question and also a bunch of questions you did NOT ask! SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Laszlow would probably romance Shadowheart, but never makes it past the Act 1 “sharing a bottle of wine” kiss scene. She jumps right into a Dark Urge tactician mode playthru the moment she picks up the game, and chops Gale’s hand off at the portal, kills Karlach bc that’s what Wyll’s quest tells her to do, stakes Astarion when he tries to bite her, and also kills Shadowheart in Act 2 so she can get Durge’s Slayer form, whereupon her remaining party members also turn on her (and die). By the time she faces the netherbrain it’s just her player avatar + 3 hirelings 🤣

Mal doesn’t even make a custom Tav—she plays as Lae’zel bc she prefers playing as a martial class. She skips thru all the dialogue/cutscenes because she’s mainly in it for the combat mechanics, and misses a TON of story bc she never long rests. She doesn’t even realize romances are an option before growing tired of the game and putting it down after trying it out for 2 days. (Though if she had to pick, she’d probably also romance Shadowheart)

[qrowscant]

me and my shitty fucking butler

[corpsebasil]

Prince of Fools -> complete chaos between reader and Nikolai

Warnings: daddy gets what daddy wants

The enemy Grisha had almost gotten to the hallway you and Nikolai hid inside. They were hunting for you and the prince; the Grisha with the power to speak to animals, the Disney princess of Ravka, and Nikolai, the future king.

“Saints,” Nikolai cursed, his back against the wall with you pressed tight against his front. The Grisha were nearing, them with their advanced magic and wicked intent.

“Follow my lead.” You urged, and his eyes widened when you shoved his face into your chest seconds before the Grisha rounded the corner. “OH GODS!” You wailed, loudly, and Nikolai’s startled huff of laughter was warm against your skin. “THOMAAAAAS!”

“Thomas?“ Nikolai grumbled, but you only pulled your hood up and made loud sucking noises, rocking his head violently against you.

“OH THOMAS TELL MEEEE—!”

“OH…BECKY!” He cried, and you almost smacked him. Of all the names he could’ve picked— “LEMME TOUCH YOU! FEEL ME!”

You were half a second from bursting into laughter, your face hot as you resisted, tussling his hair violently. You could feel several sets of stunned, horrified eyes on the two of you, gawking at the sight of the deranged Ravkans in front of them.

“Do you think they need medical attention?” One whispered, eyes wide.

“Maybe an exorcism.” Other grumbled.

You almost choked when Nikolai picked you up and whirled you against the wall, growling like a feral beast. You could hardly breathe, your stomach aching with the urge to laugh, especially when he clutched your Kefta in both hands and said, “Daddy gets what daddy wants.”

That’s was enough. One of the Grisha gagged as they hurried along, claiming to have spotted the prince further, MUCH further, down the hallway. When they were well and gone, you panted for breath, letting out the loudest cackle of your life into the hallway. Nikolai clamped a hand over your mouth but grinned, his own face flushed with hysteria.

“Becky?” You whispered, raising your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“You shoved my face into your tits.”

“I was going for authentic.”

Footsteps echoed close by and they turned, watching as Alina, Genya and Mal cautiously stepped out of the darkness of the hall. They’d been at the end of the corridor the entire time.

“I truly,” Mal began, shaking his head with the same level of horror that the Grisha had possessed. “Do not want to know whatever energy you two were just channeling.”

“We’re natural actors.” Nikolai bragged, slinging an arm over your shoulders. You turned your head and planted a loud, wet kiss against his cheek, making him curse and wipe at his face.

“I’m tired of your antics.” Alina said, but she was smiling, and she and Genya giggled as they looped arms with Y/N and let the group down the passage to the exit.

Do not ask I am two wine glasses in and found this hysterical

[bisclavaret]

post-adventure Mal doodle :)

[whumpsoda]

What would happen if the Sleepy Thrall got sick and needed medical attention?

-- @oliversrarebooks

WOHEO Masterlist So here’s like. My fifth? writing post of the past week… I’m just on the writing grind :3

cw: sickfic, pet whump, multiple whumpers & whumpees, vampire whumpers, captivity hypnotised/brainwashed whumpees

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“Mal…ak?” 

Nevan delicately poked his head inside the dimly lit room, the tall, wooden door creaking along. 

His vision took a moment to settle into the darkness as he looked toward the thrall’s shared mattress placed beside the vampire’s luxurious bed, fully expecting Malak to be seated atop it. 

Strangely, he was not.

“Malak?” Nevan called again softly, turning around the room until his gaze landed on the corner farthest from said mattress.

Huddled up to the wall, curled into a tight ball of his large frame Malak sniveled, nose dribbling with snot and eyes rung sickly red. He rubbed his face with his palms, shielding his vision from bright light sneaking in from the open door. “Oh.”

Nevan carefully stepped inside, shutting the door slowly behind him until it clicked. Arms outstretched in front of him he knelt before the ill thrall. “Malak..? Are you… alright?” He questioned, voice low and gravely, trying purposely to not make enough noise that may elicit or increase a headache. 

“Um…” Malak started, peeking the tiniest bit out from his legs. His eyes were wide and shaky, body trembling. “Head… feels weeeird… don’t like.” He mumbled quietly, brows furrowing in muddled confusion. “‘M sorry…”

Nevan placed a hand to his knee, rubbing lightly over his skin with a soft thumb. “It’s fine. Yes… you… you should get back in bed…” he urged, guiding Malak's gaze to the tussled mattress he had wandered out of.

“Nngh…! Noooo… no bed, please…” Malak whined, pushing his frame further into the wall behind him. At least, as much farther as he could, already shoved deep against it. 

Nevan sighed. “You… you like it here?” 

Malak only nodded weakly in response, his head swaying just the slightest bit from dizziness. Nevan lifted a thermometer between two fingers. “Okay… uh, can… Master Darius told me to take your temperature… again… can, can I?”

For a beat Malak considered allowing him to do so, before giving another slight nod of approval. “Umm… shh… sure…”

“Thank you. Say ah.”

The other man obliged, welcoming the thermometer under his outstretched tongue and accepting it by the grip of his lips. The two waited in silence, Nevan still brushing the other man’s skin as a means of comfort.

“Mm… one oh one.” Nevan read the numbers, disapprovingly. 

“I’m sorry… sorryyyy… sorry…” Malak slumped back once again, head lolling onto his buckled shoulders. “Head weird… Nevan.” He whispered, shutting his eyes tight.

Nevan wanted to help him, he really did. He didn’t remember ever having been sick himself, but from the look of how hard it hit Malak, he could almost understand exactly how gross he felt. “No… I’m… I’m sorry.” How could he possibly help? How disgustingly useless.

Malak clawed feebly at his own skin and flesh, wriggling and fidgeting restlessly in his spot and portraying his own agony. “Don’t… don’t, ummm, like it… bad. Bad.” He whined, gratingly, the sound scratching against Nevan’s eardrums.

“Well… you’re, you’re talking a lot. That’s nice.”

“Feels weird… bad…”

Nevan frowned. “Well Master had to, to make you more… awake ‘n stuff so we can help you. That’s good… right?”

Adrastus had been practically forced to ease up on Malak’s enthrallment due to his ill state, him having been doing overall far worse with it as intense as normal. Plus, they required him to be able to communicate his pain in order to aid in his recovery. It was a condition he was, as expected, still adjusting to.

“Good… goood…” Malak mimicked. Nevan grinned, just a little bit from hearing the other man still utilizing one of his common habits even when dreadfully sick.

Before Nevan could open his lips to speak again, the door was nuged open so Adrastus could enter. Their arms were full with further bedding, elegantly lush pillows and blankets gathered for their favorite thrall. “Oh, dear, I’m back.” They bumbled in, heading straight to the thrall’s bed before they took notice of its absence of a body.

The pair followed as their face flipped to further distress in a flash, searching quick for their thrall, before landing on the two. “Nevan!” They exclaimed, recoiling an inch backwards. “You mustn’t be in here, get, get! You might catch it! I know how much you care about your little friend, but we just can’t risk you getting sick as well.”

Adrastus slipped between the thralls as Nevan stood to his feet, heading to leave as the vampire had instructed, but was held back by Malak gripping the bottom of his dress with a deadly grip.

“Goodness, how are you doing, baby? Tell me how you feel. What do you need? I can get you anything.” The vampire fussed, tucking their thrall’s sweat coated curls behind his ears and out of the way of his eyes.

Malak mewled, the edge of his words shaky and cracked as the urge to cry was swelling. “Bad… ickyyy…”

“Yes, love, I know, I know. What’s bad?” They pressed, urgently and needily.

He thought for a moment, processing their wants and questions, scouring for an acceptable answer. “Mmmngh… head… my, mmn, nose…”

“Alright, what can I get you? Umm… medicine? I’ll see if we have any more blankets? Please, baby, I’ll get you anything.” Their tone was growing ever so more distressed by the second, desperate for a solution as they nodded along with his soft but pained mumbles. The edge of their words was tainted with what almost seemed like fear. 

Nevan watched their conversation unfold, stomach churning with sick and worry filled unease. He’d never seen Adrastus less than elegantly put together, never without their dignified, strict composure. The sight of them carefully trying to keep up their facade rattled anxiety in his bones.

“Want… want…” Malak gazed gently upward, meeting the other thrall with cloudy eyes that mirrored the still hazy fog of his mind. “Nevaaannnn… Nevaaaannn…!” He continued tugging at the dress flowing from Nevan’s waist, jerking him harder and harder as Nevan struggled against the much stronger man.

“No, no. No Nevan.” Their tone was devoid of anger, rather spewing with urgency. “Nevan. Leave.”

“Nooo! Nevaaann…! Need!”

His head was spinning, being called every which way. He didn’t know what to do, who’s orders to follow. His face was tainted with the scald of flattery, poorly hiding his excitement of someone, especially Malak, expressing a need of him. Him. Though, he knew such defiance was not acceptable.

“No, sweet, Master is right here. Nevan can’t help you, but master can. You could get Nevan sick.” Adrastus corrected with a strained smile, trying their very best to remain calm. “And, you like master more, don’t you? Master’s right here.”

Malak whined again, looking nearly dejected, making Nevan’s heart only hurt further with vigorous compassion. “Sorry… sorry… need, ummm, Nev… annn…”

“No! You are sick! You’re going to get him sick!” Their voice continued rising with stinging heat, shouting at their own thrall while still in a short vicinity. They had dropped any and all lingering peace in their mind, and Nevan jumped back, cowering weakly.

They never yelled at Malak. Never. Both thralls were understandably stuck in place with surprise, salty tears instinctively welling in Malak’s eyes. Nevan wished he could’ve done something, anything, but Adrastus' burning stare was well enough to keep him frozen in place.

“‘M sorry… sorry-”

“Ad, it’s okay, it’s just a fever.” Darius piped up from the back, soft and calm yet unexpected. The three huddled together whipped around to face him, Adrastus’ expression boiling with flushed anger and embarrassment. “He’ll probably get it anyway and they’ll both be fine.”

The other vampire shook their head frantically, a sight that only put Nevan more on edge. “No! N- no, he, he can’t get sick! We can’t let him get sick,

Hester can’t be sick.”

The air flipped the switch to silence, save for their quick and exhausted breaths. Nevan stared dumbly, all he really could do paralyzed by fear. He’d learned full well what happened when a vampire was upset.

Nevan had… never heard such a name before. Of course, not that he could recall, but still. It was sudden, and even Adrastus appeared disturbed that they had let it slip.

“Dear,” Darius interrupted, his voice eerily soothing and kind. He’d never spoken that way. At least not to Nevan, which wasn’t at all surprising. “You need to step away.” 

“No, no, I-”

“Ad.” Their lips zipped to a close. “I need you to take a minute.” He looked to his own thrall, who shrunk back with festering fear. “Nevan, take them to the kitchen.”

Malak erupted, moaning in aching agony. “Nooo! Noooo… I need Master! Need… Nevan…”

Adrastus instinctively curled their hands over that of Malak’s, gaze full of unbridled abd desperate saccharine. “But- but what about-”

“Malak will be fine. I’ll stay with him.”

“But, the doctor-”

“Baby, the doctor said the same. He just needs rest and the meds she gave us.”

“Masterrr…!” Malak called again, his words cut apart by thick whimpers and snivels. The sound of his suffering carved deep marks in Nevan’s ears, and even more so Adrastus’.

“But…” they paused, begrudgingly stepping back from their upset thrall. Nevan looked to the other man with sorry eyes as Malak’s face twisted in disappointment as the two headed to leave. “Can I come back…?”

“Of course, Ad. I just need you to calm down, okay?” Darius placed a hand on each shoulder, tenderly guiding them to the door before Malak could continue his outbursts and convince them to stay. “You can take a couple sips from Nevan if you would like.”

“O- okay. Okay. But I’ll be right back to your side, baby. I’ll make sure Nevan is all nice and, and safe and away from any diseases.”

Nevan gave one last small wave to his friend before leaving, Adrastus gripping and squeezing his forearm, biting their lip with unusual nervousness. He tried not to pay too much attention to it. “Thank you, master.”

Though, as the two walked out to the kitchen and he kneeled beside his master, neck craned to show off his throat, even with his brain dazing out from their strong aura, he couldn’t help but dwell on the name they’d previously let slip instead of his.

Just who was Hester?

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