#and its freaking terrifying because

[senseiwu]

maybe a bit tmi but. I need to Scream.

[trauma-bot]

sin eater

[loadingbnha]

THE MOMENT NAOMASA REALIZED THE EXTENT OF WHO ALL MIGHT ACTUALLY IS

For refrence; a side by side comparison of how Naomasa knows All Might vs how Toshinori is when he actually lets loose

[majorasnightmare]

as a tragic doomed siblings enjoyer what are your headcannons about dirge/orin's relationship pre-betrayal? care to elaborate on what was going on with them based on what we know? when do u think the resentment from orin rly started peculating?

this is an EXCELLENT excuse to have somethin i can quickly refer to for autosarcophagy thank you 💜💜💜

so a LOT of it is speculation and headcanons with most of our canon sources being close to the end of their pre game interactions with each other. We know Orin resented Durge for taking what she felt was her spot, we know Durge demeaned her ritual murders and scoffed at the idea of fighting her for the role of Chosen, we know Sarevok essentially led Orin on by acting like she was ever anything more than a sacrifice, and we know that the cult of Bhaal isn't entirely pleased with the change in leadership. It's a fairly straightforward tale of resentment and betrayal and an unworthy upstart claiming what shouldn't be theirs out of jealousy, but I like to throw wrenches in the works and add fun complicating emotions in like genuine admiration and sibling affection

a core aspect to Dirge is that, much like real world wolves, he is deeply family oriented. upon arriving at the temple of Bhaal, he has killed his only family, and only has Sceleritas as company, who at this point is more cagey than comforting for him. hes lonely, and scared, and vulnerable, and is coming off a profoundly miserable experience roughing it in Baldur's Gate. the temple delivers on the one form of connection Dirge craves more than anything: not only is there family, there are siblings.

Dirge technically has four siblings waiting for him at the temple. Haflidi, who at this point would be either an older teenager or a young adult, an angry spiteful vindictive barbarian goliath. Ornaryn, a drow vengeance paladin, who IS invested in trying to make sure the Temple's newest additions aren't horrifically traumatized (and near immediately removed from influence and forced to travel to the other side of the continent). Zherimon, the eldest, a tiefling paladin serving as the current head of the cult (begrudgingly). And Orin. Not only is Orin close to his age, she's also the only one who's as happy to see him as he is to see her. His other siblings are all emotionally unavailable for one reason or another, but Orin is here and Orin is excited and now he finally doesn't have to be alone anymore. He latches onto her very quickly, and throughout his entire time with the cult, she's the only one he was ever close to.

Orin is canonically the youngest in the cult to ever achieve the rank of Unholy Assassin, which, given that shes close to Dirge's age, would mean she achieved that lofty goal BEFORE him, and I like to think this is another example of Orin's latent natural talents and skills that eventually contribute to her feeling ignored and overshadowed. Because for at least half of their lives together, it would've been the other way around. Dirge and his prodigy sister, who had already served as Bhaal's mouthpiece once before in the ritualistic killing of her mother. Ironically its a relationship they were both happy with. Dirge arrives at the temple emotionally distraught, but now Orin finally has a playmate her own age, AND hes going to join the temple, same as her! Finally someone she can practice murder with that isn't grandpa Sarevok!

Dirge is a crybaby as a kid, and hes quiet and deferential. This is a new place, with lots of new people (and he's never been fond of new people), and he still feels sick about his parents, but he hits it off with Orin immediately. Orin has a strong mischief streak, emboldened by her shapeshifting, and she ADORES having someone to teach and be superior to. Dirge in turn is happy to have someone who delights in teaching him, because a lot of whats going on is confusing and unintuitive and upsetting. Orin softens his early years of indoctrination into something that could even be construed as pleasant. She excels and pulls ahead, and she bullies her brother for being a crybaby, but she still reaches out behind her to help pull him back up. Orin very much takes on the role of "big sister" even though its a negligble distinction given their circumstances. She teaches him how to delight in torture, makes the doctrine of nihilism make sense, emphasizes that the two of them are special and chosen and important, that they dont have to care what other people think, because theyre stupid and wrong anyways. She diminishes the pain he feels from killing his parents by affirming what SHES been taught, that it was a good and holy and rightous thing and he deserved to be rewarded for it, just like she was (though maybe not the SAME reward because SHES going to lead the temple one day!). Sarevok and Zherimon have already decided on grooming Dirge for the role instead, knowing EXACTLY the difference between them, but both Dirge and Orin are children, whats more important is making sure Dirge is properly indoctrinated, and Orin is very useful for that.

Theyre thick as thieves for most of their childhoods, Dirge perfectly content to trail behind Orin wherever she goes, and to follow her progress right on her heels. Orin definitely has the most energy of the two, and she delights in playing leader, deciding exactly what games the two of them will be playing and where, while Dirge pads along behind her. She gets into the habit of shapeshifting into him for one of her favorite games, that being "find ways to bully and harass the other initiates in the barracks and avoid trouble by making sure no one can tell who's who". As Orins changeling nature is well known, you can never really tell if your looking at Dirge or looking at Orin, who will tell you whichever is more confusing at the moment. As changelings and dopplegangers have empathetic abilities, this also means that Orin is extremely keyed in to Dirge's emotional state. She typically uses this to lightly bully him, but also typically follows that up with attempts at genuine comfort, because a good leader has subordinates happy to follow them, and makes sure theyre taken care of well enough to serve. Theyre siblings, and theyre best friends, and theyre little hellions, and Orin knows every crack and crevice in the temple and where exactly there are spots too small for the grownups to follow them that the two of them can still crawl through. The cult is slowly but inevitably carving away their empathy for the world outside, bringing them into a miserable ideology of death dealing and slaughter, and isolating them from anyone who could ever break them free, but right now they are small and close and she is showing Dirge exactly where to stab in a rats belly to make all the guts come out, and when he scrunches his tiny face in disgust she'll call him all sorts of names, but take his tiny hand in her own and hold the knife together nonetheless

Dirge doesnt resent Orin when she makes rank before him. He doesnt resent Orin when she excels, when she grasps the knifework faster, memorizes the doctrine quicker. He doesnt resent her when she gets assignments first, or when they work together and she takes the lead. Thats the goal hes chasing, after all. To be as good as his sister. To eventually pull ahead. To play chase like they always do. But when he DOES pull ahead, when the lead he has grows but never shrinks, its equal parts pride and confusion. Proud to finally surpass her, confusion that he KEEPS surpassing her. Shes slower to catch up, angrier about it. It isnt resentment, not yet, just frustration. Theres something hes stumbled into that she hasnt gotten yet. More reasons to train together, after all, put their heads together and work it out. But when the cult finally passes down the mantle of leadership, it doesnt pass into Orin's hands, youngest Assassin, pre chosen vessel of Bhaal. For reasons neither of them understand, it goes to Dirge instead. Purest bhaalspawn, severed hand of their God let loose, the one true prophet of armageddon. It doesnt make sense, but hes trained so hard and come so far, he wont dissapoint their Father now. its a bitter pill orin doesnt swallow easily. its there the resentment starts

The gap wont ever close now, not really. Dirge is too neurotic, too anxious and obsessed. He leaves no breathing room for anyone to pick up the slack, because he leaves none, will not ever give the slightest hints of being unworthy. Its suffocating. Diminished, demeaned, forgotten, Orin falls to the wayside, swallowed within an ever lengthening shadow, and he never turns to her, never reaches back. Pushing himself to the breaking point, and then far past it, and now HIS word is law, is doctrine, when it should have been HER, she who spoke with Bhaal's voice when all he has is fleeting visions. The resentment grows, made all the more acrid by the sweet memories of yesteryear. Its like everything shes worked for means nothing, and now he wont even cast a glance her way. Seeing him less and less, and then never as himself, always acting as Leader, Prophet, Idol, everything the cult needed and more, and now when habit rears up and she takes his face to talk to him, he scowls at what he sees. Like the bastard ever had a leg to stand on, she knows what he is, pathetic weak crybaby bloodkin trailing in her wake, acting big and strong now that hes special. Now that hes chosen. Like he knows something she doesnt. Like he could ever know something she doesnt. Grandfather calls him proud, arrogant, and theres no other explanation for the cold she feels from him, inside his skin, its cold arrogant bastard pride for finally besting her at the only game that mattered.

It falls apart slowly over the years. Sarevok, and then Zherimon, instilled in Dirge the need for perfection, to serve as Bhaal's will on earth, and the need for it burrowed deep into Dirge's psyche and consumed everything else around it. He loves his sister. He misses her. But this life is hell and Bhaal's expectations for his chosen spawn are cruel and exacting. All Orin needs to do is what shes always been good at, thats enough. He'll take on everything else so she isnt choked or constrained, so she has room to flourish. He's pulling further and further away from her and it hurts but theres nothing to be done for it, because its Father's will (HIS father, not that he could ever stand to tell Orin, and take from her yet something else, another pillar she stands lofty upon). Shes more than a sacrifice, thats obvious by the way she holds a blade, and Dirge refuses to waste her potential in a single sacrifice to Bhaal, when together they could bring so much more glory to Him at each others sides. He won't take the duel. If she wants for them to kill each other, she must promise a death so glorious as to make this single murder worth more than all the slaughter they could achieve together. The idea is laughable. Somewhere in the back of his mind behind a door that wont stay locked is a treasured sentimental sin, two tiny bodies pressed together in a crevice only barely big enough for them both, outside a man about to be flogged for his failure calls out a name neither of them respond to, and all else is quiet save for the hushed giggles swallowed by the stone. No, she isn't worthy. She isn't worthy by far.

Its a mix of Dirge taking on as much responsibility as he can while leading the cult to give Orin more freedom, and Orin having next to nothing to do with all that extra time and lack of duties beyond ruminating on the discrepancy between them. It feels like she isnt trusted or considered good enough anymore, when she clearly remembers the opposite, and the more he pulls away the more she hates him for it. The resentment is tempered by religious duty and childhood memories, but even though Dirge makes attempts to try and bridge the gap, the circumstances are that there really isnt anything he can do. I like to headcanon that Dirge helped Orin make her skin suit, because he has a noted habit of taxidermy and human leatherworking, as a way to try to reach out to her, but the inertia has built up too much to stop whats going to happen. It was doomed to fall apart at the start, driven by forces neither of them could have even hoped to work against.

The love was always there, but it just made it hurt.

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Cracked Armor (Short) (Extended War Timeline)

(A/N: This devolved into Saphira and Glen quietly squeeing to each other while Eragon and Arya have a camaraderie moment completely oblivious to the possible deeper meaning of Eragon being so understanding of Arya's connection to Fäolin and Arya being so touched by it. It started out as a touching piece where Arya feels vulnerable about Fäolin and Eragon is, as said before, very understanding of it, but I had to run an errand in the middle and we ended up with this badly toned, no one is consistent with previous characterization slop. So take it with a grain of salt.

Also, if you ask Arya if she's superstitious, she'll say no. However, she finds many things the Varden soldiers do to honor their fallen friends a good way to respect the memory of the dead, so she follows some of their traditions. She also wears Fäolin's dogtags on her belt, muffled by magic ofc so they don't jangle around.)

CRACKED ARMOR

Glen looked over when Arya let out a soft curse. “Ah, damn it all.” The familiar sound of an armor release clip clicked into the still dust laden air as the younger elf undid the fastenings at her right forearm. “Fucking Wardbreakers. I can’t fix this out here.” 

The dismay in her tone was enough that Glen leaned over his battlemate’s shoulder to take a look at the damage. The bracer was dented in significantly, enough that a dark bruise was already blossoming up on Arya’s forearm as she lifted the sleeve of her combat suit to check for any bleeding. Cracks shot out from the divot in the mix of spidersilk and aramid weave, all the way down to the interior layers. The thin sheaf of spongy aerated gel peeked through in places, a shimmering, foamy white among blued steel and matte black.

Mentally mapping out the angle of impact, Glenwing racked his brain. He was sure at some point he had–

“Ah!” The medic looked down. A blob of malformed metal was embedded in the abdominal region of his own armor plates. “Was wondering where that ricochet came from.” 

“Are you alright?” That she had asked him was telling, at least in their odd little language. The round must have stung on impact, enough that she was worried it had not slowed enough to prevent him from being harmed. He would have to look at her arm, but for now he was pleased she was moving it without any wincing or restricted range of motion. 

Having made his own assessment, Glen waved away Arya’s increasingly troubled frown. “Barely felt it. Looks like your armor’s the most damaged of all of us.”

Frown eased, the disappointed air returned to Arya’s face. “Yeah. Better the armor than any of us, but…” She trailed off, fingers tracing the damage. 

“You two okay?” Eragon was tugging off his helmet as he approached. He had caught the concern in the voices of his companions and, leaving Saphira in Blödhgarm’s capable hands to finish up the final nicks and scrapes, went to investigate. “Sounds a bit depressed over here.”

Arya held up the damaged bracer. “We took a casualty.” Eragon took the armor piece and let out a low whistle. “Don’t know who the hell fired it, but it was definitely a Wardbreaker.” Her expression soured further, eyes oddly soft despite the obvious annoyance. “I can’t repair it out here. Rhunön’s the only one who can fix something this broken, and who knows when we’ll go back.” 

Eragon passed the bracer back. “You have spares, don’t you?”

The elf shrugged. “For this one in particular, yeah. I guess it’s lucky in that regard.” 

“Oh.” Glen’s voice was muffled as he slid his chestpiece over his head. Once free he gave his currently wild silver mane a good shake to clear his eyes and tilted his head in condolences. “It’s that one.” 

At Eragon’s raised eyebrow, Arya rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s…a good luck charm. It’s not my original bracer.” Glen rolled his eyes and not-too-subtly kicked the side of his battlemate’s foot. “Fine! Fine. It’s Fäolin’s.” An unexpected blush met Eragon’s gaze when he flicked his eyes from the damaged armor back to Arya’s face. “Some…old tradition a buddy of mine taught me. Even if our dead stay dead, they can protect us in a way. I might have taken that literally.” 

To the elf’s surprise, Eragon was smiling at her when she finally looked up. A genuine, gentle smile that lit his face. Shit, why did he suddenly look so much like Fäolin in that moment? Not really, not his appearance, but the feeling he was giving off, that warmth? 

“That’s a wonderful idea.” The Rider touched Arya’s shoulder. “I know I’m not much on the whole repair side of things, but if Rhunön made it, then perhaps her spells from forging Bris–my sword. From forging it could help?” 

Glen didn’t move. This was a moment. Don’t breathe, don’t move, let them have it. He could feel Saphira’s mind hovering at the edge of his, questioning, and he let her in to explain and show what exactly was going on. The pleased amusement that radiated into his thoughts echoed his own, though far less tense in anticipation. 

…These two dorks were fast becoming a fascination for the dragon and medic alike.

“Thank you.” Arya’s hand covered Eragon’s at her shoulder, genuine appreciation thickening her words with emotion. “That…that you offered means a lot. But Rhunön’s armor spells are different from her weapon spells.” 

Ah! Glen could see another hint of blush on both of them now. He shared his internal excitement with Saphira. The equivalent of a draconic high five buffeted his mental form in equal elation.  

“I see. Well, if you do want some help with it, just let me or Saphira know.” Eragon shifted his grip and gave Arya’s hand a quick squeeze before pulling back. “I think Rhunön did pack me some aramid repair tape when she was going through Saphira’s saddlebags. Would that help?”

“Immensely. Thank you!” The gentle squeeze was returned and just like that, the two separated. 

Glen hastily busied himself with unlatching the hidden clasps at his left bicep, a grunt of dismissal all Eragon got for a goodbye. The difficulty wasn’t entirely false, the armor never having been altered to fit over his prosthetic properly, and it provided the perfect cover to hide his smile.

A bit too tight still. Damn it. Okay, now he actually couldn’t–

“Oh, come here.” Arya reached up and seized a handful of his combat suit, giving the stretchy material a firm yank. Glen hit his knees with a whuff of surprise, eye to eye with his friend and giving her a sheepish grin. “If I get you out of this without taking your arm off, then will you tell me what the hell that weird look you were giving me and Eragon was?”

“What look?” He may have sounded the picture of innocence, but the open handed cuff to the side of his head made clear that his face was betraying him yet again. “It was nothing! I just hadn’t realized that you and Eragon had talked so much about Fäolin.” 

Arya rolled her eyes and, with practiced ease, teased the stubborn clip open with a satisfying clatter. “Uh huh. You looked like you had eaten some fermented mango again.” 

“I did not!” A teasing smile had started at the edge of Arya’s lips, her fingers finding the next clasp in the system out of pure habit. At the positive sign Glen lowered his voice. “Okay. I really didn’t know how you two were getting along. Neither of you mention it, but the Bloodoath is almost two years past now. You both seem…better. Even better than before.” 

A softness flitted across his battlemate’s eyes as she lifted away the medic’s bracer. “He’s really grown up. Saphira too. They’ve both matured a lot.”

“Yeah.” 

The silence between them grew until Arya had finally shimmied the armored glove off Glen’s prosthetic. She regarded the final piece with a thoughtful look before turning back to her bestest of friends and, as gently as gently got with Arya, whapped him on the side of the head with it. 

“Stop being so weird about me and Eragon, weirdo! We’re friends! Stop making it weird!”

[trans-estinien]

i am never. ever. opening instagram again.

[rebtrovert-girl]

Nothing can ever really prepare you for the heartbreak of knowing the one drama you really anticipated turn into that messy plot

[definatelymrhyde]

Guys I have something to admit; I’m scared of moths and butterflies.

Which brings me to my point, there is a moth in my bedroom right now.

How does one get rid of a moth in his bedroom?

All /hj

I will update if I catch the little bugger (haha get it?)

[loopyhoopywrites]

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[lupercals]

If dae ends up liking btd my cult will grow even stronger eheeehehee

[freebooter4ever]

dear mom, one day ill be living in a big old city and all youll ever be is mean :)

[royalreef]

(( It's been such a hot minute since it's happened, that I forget that most people who follow this blog don't know what happens when Miranda sincerely catches a crush and knows it, for once!

In short: if Miranda ever does manage to genuinely fall for someone and wants them, then, firstly, she's going to panic. Miranda is someone who, yes, is very confident in herself and believes that she has a right to every good thing in life, but that definition of "good thing" has been severely biased by the Merkingdom. The only things she really indulges in actively wanting and pursuing are things that the Merkingdom tells her she is supposed to want and pursue in the first place, things that are acceptable for a royal to want and things which are "normal" for them to want. This is why she doesn't actually mind dating, so long as she gets to treat the other party as a disposable toy for her to do what she pleases with — because it is common for royals to seek relationships like this, and because it helps to reinforce their place as royals.

Sincerely, very sincerely, wanting and caring for someone and actually feeling something for them, does not help reinforce this system. It leaves her vulnerable, either by other royals catching onto this, or through the other party not being well-equipped to handle the entire situation (in all the ways that it can go wrong). It is treating someone as an equal who the Merkingdom does not agree is an equal, and, even worse, it is giving Miranda a priority above the Merkingdom itself which she might hold greater loyalty to. That in particular is especially bad, given how much of Merkingdom politics is a reflection of their social dynamics to begin with.

This is why it takes so long for Miranda to admit it to herself. To do so is to admit she's not doing what she's supposed to do, that she's being bad, that she's failed in some fundamental level to be what the Throne demands her to be, and that's a lot of heavy stakes working against ever realizing when she likes someone. It has to get so bad and so intense that Miranda effectively has to admit to herself that she has done something that, in her mind, is severely wrong, and there's no way to avoid it or forget about it.

Thus, she tends to panic fairly bad. She is scared, she wants something and she was not supposed to do that, and every last moment of her life as Crown Princess is telling her that she very well might die because of this and that she will very much deserve it if it happens. It's very hard for her to connect this as anything other than a bad thing, and this is even harder to deny because Miranda liking someone also endangers them as well.

The Merkingdom will not tolerate such risks and threats, especially not to their Crown Princess, and other royals will innately view anyone who has Miranda's attention as a threat to themselves and their livelihoods. And if Miranda sincerely cares about someone, then she doesn't want them to get hurt because of her, which is made even worse by how convinced she is that she might be the one to hurt them too. Miranda's as much a royal as any of the others too, and all of Miranda's prior history of dating begins to work against her, reminding her of how easy it would be to dispose of them or harm them.

Secondly, this does present in a heightened and extreme want to bite her person of interest.

Contrary to what's above, this isn't actually a royal thing. It's a merfolk thing. They have many different ways to bite each other with many different connotations, and one way that they bite each other is both notoriously intimate, and tends to leave a recognizable bite mark on the other party, thus physically indicating that the two of them are close.

It's just a quirk of how merfolk attraction works then, that they focus so much on wanting to bite someone else when they're especially into them. It goes back to their social bonds, reinforcing them and helping to establish a new and closely tied bond, and helps secure it by gesturing to all other merfolk as a part of the social landscape that they all have to navigate. A merfolk who is especially down bad for another merfolk translates this idea as a need to bite them and be bitten back in return, to claim them as "theirs" and to be considered "mine" in turn. It's not really possessiveness nor territorial behavior, not in the way we'd understand it, but a deep and intense need to belong to someone, and a desire for that belonging. It's as much a physical thing as having a house that they live inside of, and is one of the fundamental desires behind merfolk building their miivt'ia and other relationship hierarchies.

This is intense for merfolk to begin with, being hypersocial and needing near-constant contact and interaction with each other. It is especially intense for Miranda, who is deeply repressed and cannot easily confront these desires and emotions in herself, and who perceives this sensation as being nearly painful in its intensity.

[revenge-of-the-assbutt]

.

[yanderespamton78]

hhngngggg why must i be doomed to forever be the Weird Kid who constantly needs things to be changed around so i dont have a meltdown and is terrified of most people and cant work in any loud or busy environments and has to be with someone i know all day or i will have a panic attack and hnnhnnghnghngggg

[endlessnightlock]

why have you become inactive?

Hi Anon, I hope you're doing well today.

Mostly, I haven't been around as much because real life requires more of my attention. Good stuff, though. Being more present with my family (I went to see the FNAF movie with my thirteen-year-old this week. Are any FNAF fans out here? I was slightly confused by the movie because it's not my thing but had a lot of fun going with her), eating better, cleaning my house, and trying to get organized so my chaotic monkey brain stays happy. Unfortunately, you have to stay on top of that stuff more as you age if you want to keep your sanity :).

Hopefully, once I get more of my shit together, I'll be around here more often. Love you guys and I miss hanging out!

[pulchrasilva]

Sigh I need to rant about certain people and how there is a background noise of discomfort with every interaction after particular incidents that made me go "bitch you live like this???" but all my typical vent spaces are ones where they might see it and the only ones that they wouldn't see it in are like discord channels that are not for this topic of vent or friends who would be uncomfortable with the topic etc like,,, what do I even do? Stew in it?