#edgy options

[lets-picrew]

物騒な女メーカー

[nocek]

the all out boop war reminded me I actually had this in my wips that I forgot about XD

[elvenbeard]

POV: You’re very gay and problematic older men (affectionate) keep distracting you from the very pressing issue of figuring out how not to die from the problematic older man (derogatory) living on the experimental biochip in your head.

(I know River is not that much older than V probably but ssshhh, it counts)

Bonus:

[vampiricsheep]

nothing is stopping me from giving my fursona more horns

[munchboxart]

I'll get to my requests one day, it's just I'm gonna be very busy these following weeks (maybe) and that I don't wanna fuck up my hand more. I don't think I fully recovered from drawing for a zine last minute last time I did it a week+ ago LOL

[skunkes]

another thing i love about dungeon meshi along with how theres adequate time given to every character that matters! Is that like. Along with no "every single character in supporting cast gets put on the backburner in favor of MC / other character development" is that theres also no "god these characters are all so boring except that one guy who is tragic and compelling" bc they all have the same capacity for compelling tragedy (and such).

And it also doesn't feel like when ppl tack on as much Bad Things onto a characters life just to emphasize tragedy or hardship... Theres a good balance in each of em. The recent leaked izutsumi dark lore implication drop wasn't even in the main story and it doesnt feel like that quirky "i love torturing my ocs! 🤪🤪🤪🤪 (Literally just throwing everything into one pot)" sentiment i see here often if that makes sense. It doesn't feel Edgy ykwim

[buttfrovski]

"people always make *insert south park charcater* into an uwu soft baby meanwhile this is *said character*"

mf... they coulda killed my grandma then put her on a plane that'll crash into arlington national cemetery. im still gonna draw them as cutsie wootsie lemon tootsie as i damn well please

[cottonfiend]

how I imagine Astarion's facial expression when Tav jokingly calls him a cute nickname like "Star/Starry"

[storfulsten]

my silly viera wol alt bc reasons uwu

[torahtot]

if trump wins im going to im going to do something bad to every dumb fuck who's "protest voting" you have brain worms. your brain does not work. what the fuck are you accomplishing

[constantvariations]

Thinking about how Senshi always cooks in front of the party, stating clearly what he's doing with what ingredients, and how that's most definitely connected to that one soup

[dorianwolfforest]

How do you like your angst?

[aro-culture-is]

Aro culture is going to spencers and seeing only ace pride merch and no aro pride merch

.

[fangsandfeels]

I've often thought about the psychology behind romancing Astarion with a good-aligned Tav, especially with the one who instantly sees through his bullshit and is well aware that his feelings aren't sincere. Why would they choose Astarion to begin with? Why would they stay with him? What would they fall for if they aren't with him for his looks, given that his values aren't initially good-aligned?

So, just throwing in some ramblings about my Tav as I'm bracing myself to conclude Astarion's quest

As a former street urchin, rescued from the Baldur's Gate crime den by pure chance, a lucky coincidence, she knows that the world is anything, but fair. That it's a wicked, cruel place. As an Oath of Vengeance Paladin, she has lost count of times when she came too late to save a life and all left for her to do was to hunt, to chase, to punish. To be the consequence for those who want to destroy, maim, and ruin lives with impunity.

She is good at what she does. She is good at hunting, at pursuing relentlessy, at bringing death to those who deserve it. She used to tell herself that it was enough. With every slaver, murderer, cultist brought to blade, she felt she was avenging that ruined little girl she once was, the girl who didn't deserve all those things done to her, who didn't deserve to be treated as a thing, as nothing just because she was a refugee kid stripped of her home and place. She used to tell herself she didn't want anything else from life -- no sense in asking boons from such a wicked-wicked world, no point in wanting any other future. In wanting a future.

Clashing with Astarion was not just about her challenging him, but about him being a reflection of her something deep within her. So many things about his behavior resonated somewhere deep within her -- from his tiny fearful reactions (when he thought nobody was watching) to his blood-drunk ramblings. The more she looked, the more she wanted to learn. The more she learned, the more she felt the urge to...comfort? Reassure? Connect? She dared to explore this wish, indulging him in the rare moments when he spoke with sincerity, and growing to cherish the moments when he allowed himself to be vulnerable, to ask her questions he wanted to ask instead of giving her tense, practiced smiles and meaningless compliments. She found herself enjoying these hours before rest, his silly little mannerisms, his playfulness, and wide-eyed excitement, him laughing or scowling at her remarks, to see him actually think or linger on what she said. She didn't really need to do all of this to mark Cazador as her next target, to make a solemn vow to find and slay the monster.

But she wanted to. She wanted this.

Agreeing to spend the night together felt right. Not because she believed that standing bare in front of him, being in each other's arms, would mean something to him. She wasn't naive. But it was when she let him kiss her, let herself enjoy the physical pleasure, when she bared her neck to him, noticed his distant gaze, and felt the rough texture of scars under her fingertips, that she discovered yet another piece of the puzzle. The realization was sickening, bringing clarity to his behaviors, filling her with determination to survive the Absolute ordeal just so she could find Cazador and turn him into a smoking pile of ashes...and something else. Looking at Astarion, standing there, bathing in sunlight, she wondered quietly - what will he do, when free of his tormentor? What will he do if he gets a second chance?

She knew she wanted to see it. To give him such an opportunity. For she would never dare to assume that she would have turned out any different had she found herself in his place. She knew she wouldn't have become her current self if not for one fateful night when a Doombringer came to take the ring leader's head and left with her in tow.

It was a novel feeling, that sympathy that made her enjoy his presence, his company, made her roll her eyes, half-endeared, half-annoyed at his antics. She didn't expect him to understand why she plays along. She was good at reading faces and guessing intentions, to hearing out plights, and detecting lies -- but all those skills were hardly enough to undo centuries of suffering, to make him open his heart to her. She accepted that he might never do so. That this undefined relationship between them will remain vague and uncertain, nameless.

And then, Moonrise Towers made her feel new, unknown levels or rage. She knew she would hate this wretched place, this cult of control freaks who enjoyed having power over others way too much to wonder about the source or the price of said power, who tortured and butchered a good and kind man in front of terrified children. She knew she would wield this fury to cleanse the nest of the Absolute as soon as she found and destroyed the source of Ketheric's immortality. However, she barely restrained herself from showing Z'rell how much she wanted to split her in half for digging into her thoughts, for that oh-so-familiar lecherous glint in her eyes as she spoke of Astarion as if he was a piece of meat to be savored. She wanted to have Araj's head for dismissing Astarion's right to himself, for speaking to her as if she was his mistress. This place dared to threaten someone important to her, making her see red, which almost compromised her grip on herself. It was alarming.

Managing to save lives always made her feel relieved. Seeing tragedies caused by twisted beings made her feel numb, detached, reciting her Oath to focus and keep going. However, never before has she felt so strongly, so viscerally protective about someone. And oh, the irony, it just had to be a centuries old vampire spawn with all the wounds and twisted views she would have had without her mentor to pluck her out of her personal hell.

She prepared herself to work through these feelings on her own. To channel them in something productive, like she did with her anger. She didn't expect herself to confess them, open up her mind and let them pour through her shared connection - she didn't expect Astarion to be the first to initiate the conversation, starting with the words of gratitude and ending with admitting he felt something for her. She didn't expect him to reach out to her. She didn't expect for it to feel so nice, just to hold hands with him, her palm cradled gently in his.

She didn't expect to feel like she found a missing piece of herself, to realize her her capacity for tenderness went beyond handling stray dogs and orphaned feral cubs. She never knew how she craved those touches, those innocent kisses, those secret looks and subtle smiles.

She both hated and loved those little discoveries for making her hopeful. For making her want a tomorrow, giving her something to look forward to, giving her something that can be taken away from her. She knew of the choices that had to be made. She knew of the allure of power, of Astarion still being driven by his fears and the torment he endured. The world was still not fair, there were bound to be pitfalls and she could hope for a bittersweet resolution at best.

Hers was not to save, but to punish. But Gods had she never been so desperate to do both.

[birb--birb]

Savrin de Riva, spellblade crow and certified Short King

[absolutelyzoned]

dude thinking is so hard what if im just gonna be ShrapnelEater forever