#i think this could be considered body horror

[spacebarbarianweird]

I was wondering if you have any thoughts on a redeemed durge sometime post-game having ended up having Astarion's kid since that line of Jaheria teasing durge about starting a family lives rent-free in my head at times like Astarion being shocked that he could knock someone up then only to find out that his lover is carrying a possible dhampir bhaalspawn as well.

Alright, so my Durge was a barbarian half-elf who hopefully has amnesia. I think it's a fun concept because I am not entirely sure bad genes can be transfered considering Bhaal aready took everything rotten from Durge and Withers claims Durge belongs to no one. I think Jaheira is just exaggerating.

Masterlist

Headcanons

Dadstarion x f!Durge

The terrors of your past still haunt you.

Blood, gore, rapes, cannibalism. You know you did it, your body remembers it.

Withers told you Bhaal took his foul blood away, and you are as good as new.

Even immortal.

But still, who knows.

How much is left in your systems?

Astarion knows how much you suffer. Hell, he was through a similar shit.

You are a monster who ate babies, and he is a dirty slut from the streets of Baldur's Gate. You both have a long body count list.

And children? Hell, no. Astarion directly says he doesn't want any responsibility, and you are afraid there is still something bhaalistic within you.

And you don't want Jaheira to go after your head.

But it seems like if you give Astarion drink as much blood as you want to, you can be knocked up.

Thoughts rush through your head. Maybe, terminate it? To get rid of another Bhaalspawn before it's too late?

Surprisingly despite initial shock and jokes about infidelity Astarion begs you not to terminate.

He has never had anything in his entire existence. Nothing. And parenthood is something normal, something he has never wished to experience.

The thing is the feeling is mutual.

Your life used to be a parade of perversive nightmares and ... being a mother? Having a domestic life? To get what most sentient beings take for granted?

You agree to risk it.

You have nightmares. Insomnia. You imagine the monster you are carrying within is about to gnaw through your flesh and destroy the world in the name of their grandsire.

You cry and scream. You hurt yourself, and Astarion has to hide all knives away from you.

Because of stress and horrors, you give birth prematurely. When you go into labor you expect to see a monstrous creature, half a vampire, half a beast of the nightmares.

Instead...

Twins are placed in your hands.

Identical boys with pointy elven ears and raven black hair.

Normal infants who scream at the top of their tiny lungs demanding your love and attention.

Astarion tries his best to be a good father to his sons. He cares about them, he changes their nappies, and he bottlefeeds them. He doesn't seem annoyed with their cries and never complains.

Unluckily, things can't be that good all the time.

Jaheira has kept her promise.

And now Harpers, Selunites, and all who swore to destroy the Bhaalists are coming after you.

Because your sons are a danger. They are Bhaal's spawns. And worse, they are dhampirs.

You and Astarion have to flee. It's difficult with two babies, but you have no choice.

Your friends have become your enemies. Your enemies will probably become your friends.

One day, you notice Astarion whispering to something only he can see.

You realize he mutters obscenities in Abbyssal, the language so ould it would Bhaal cringe.

And then he just disappears leaving you alone with two crying children.

This night is the worst and loneliest in your life.

Astarion is back in the morning.

He is now a warlock, and his patron is one of the great old ones whose name is so profane Astarion can't say it.

Astarion wanted so bad to be a good person. A hero. A savior. You did, too.

But all these do-gooders have made you both evil again.

And now Astarion, bounded by his pact, will stop at nothing to protect his family.

@tugoslovenka  

@herstxrgirl 

@herdarkestnightelegance  

@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress  

@fayeriess  

@lumienyx  

@tallymonster    

@caitlincat-95  

@tragedybunny  

@valeprati  

@lynnlovesthestars   

@marina-and-the-memes  

@waking-eyes   

@ayselluna  

@connorsui  

@asterordinary  

@darkarchangel96  

@locallegume  

@brainfullofhotsauce   

@coffeeanddonutscafe  

@my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen 

@queenofthespacesquids  

@ednaaa-04  

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

@nyx-knox

@jessaryss

@sillybillylia

[youredyingthatsallthereis]

"bug? you still there?"

roach jolted awake, nodding before he remembered ghost couldn't see him. "mhm," he hummed, hoping the affirmative was loud enough that ghost would hear.

"thought i lost ya there for a second," ghost teased. "gettin' sleepy on me again?"

just a little, but im fine, roach typed into their chat.

"hm," ghost mused into his mic. roach blinked and refocused on the stream; ghost was playing stardew valley for him again. they were quiet for a moment as ghost made quick work of harvesting some rice and jogging over to the barn his livestock were in. "if you're tired i can just cut it here, its not a big deal."

no no no, its fine! roach typed quickly. i like listening to you talk.

it was far from the first time he'd said it, but every time he said it now it felt...heavier, somehow. like there was more...something in it.

it had been a few months of this; they took turns streaming games for each other as a way to chat and hang out and over the course of their time doing it roach had found himself feeling more and more...something for ghost. he'd never had such a strong feeling about anyone before, nothing even close; he'd never felt so happy and calm and content to just listen to someone before.

ghosts accent was unique to his american ears, something he wasnt used to but that he enjoyed enormously. something lilting and calm and just distinctly ghost that made him smile every time the call connected and ghost said "hey bug." the gentle inflection, the sweet nickname, all of it just very...as much as roach felt flutters in his stomach admitting it (even in his own mind), it was just theirs.

presently ghost chuckled at the freely given compliment. "i love that you like to listen to me."

they always did it like this; a voice call for roach to listen to ghost when he streamed, and a video stream with chat when roach played survival horror for ghost. roach relied on sign and expressions/body language to convey his moods/reactions, and while ghost was still trying to pick up on some of the ASL roach frequently used (like 'why' and 'do not want') he hoped that ghost appreciated being able to see him.

ghost had told him early on that video calls made him feel a little awkward and that's why he just preferred voice, and even though he couldn't talk back roach was happy to do it this way. their way. more than anything he wanted ghost to feel comfortable and was ever grateful that he got to listen to him at all.

he smiled and cuddled his blåhaj closer, propping himself up against the wall behind his bed to try and stay awake. something about listening to ghost narrate what he was doing while he walked around his farm or the caves or even just stood and fished, wanting to get every single type of fish possible, made him feel so content and calm and frankly, safe. he felt embarrassed to even have the thought, but sometimes when he closed his eyes while ghost was talking he wondered if that was what it would feel like to have ghost really sitting next to him, talking to him close while he played maybe on a switch or on his laptop. he wondered if ghost would want them to sit close enough to be touching softly, maybe their legs pressed up against each otherwhile roach sleepily enjoyed his narrations.

"do you think i should bother with more chickens? or maybe more ducks? i like having the extra mayo for sale," ghost was musing out loud.

"hmmm," roach hummed thoughtfully. i'd go for a few more ducks as long as the hay to feed them isnt too expensive, he typed into their chat. they're cute and i love how you named them all after sanrio characters. you could call the next one tuxedo sam.

"true, kuromi the void duck was the last one i got, and that was a while ago," ghost considered. "and that big blue penguin is damn cute."

roach smiled. he loved ghost's fixation on sanrio characters, finding it as endearing as he was realizing he found just about everything else about ghost.

"are you sure you're not too tired?" ghost asked one more time. "its almost the end of the in game day and my save isn't going anywhere."

roach bit his lip. one more day? he asked. then i should probably go to sleep; its almost 1am here.

ghost chuckled over the call. "alright," he agreed. "one more day."

[inhurtandincomfort]

A Night to Regret

CW: Kidnapping, abusive relationship

“Hey babe,” Kieran answered his phone with a grin, “Yeah, I’m on my way back now. Guess what? I’ve got a job!” 

“Really? That’s amazing!” He pulled it back from his ear as Abigail squealed, “What is it?” 

“It’s a short film, an original horror I think. I don’t know all the details, Kate said she’d email them to me first thing Monday. It’s a student film, but they’ve done quite a few popular ones.” 

“You know what this means? Celebration! We should invite Mike and Lisa, I’ll see if Cameron’s free too, and Jaysen, though I think he’s busy…”

Kieran laughed softly, “Is that really necessary? I was thinking we could just have a quiet night in, just the two of us.”  

“We do that all the time! Come on, we haven’t had a get together in ages. It’ll be fun. We’ll order pizza, and if you pick up some drinks on your way home… ooh, make sure you get some of that beer I like.”  “Since when did this become about you?” 

“I’ll pay for everything!” 

He smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “I got it, don’t worry. You order some pizzas, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” 

“Love you!”

Kieran slid his phone into his pocket, making a u-turn to head towards their favoured liquor store. He shivered, hugging himself as he walked down the quiet street. Strange, to be so quiet on a Saturday evening; it was freezing, he reasoned. It wasn’t that late, but the sun set early this time of year and a starless sky made the frigid air seem bleak. Still, deserted streets always held an eerie feeling. Though they weren’t completely empty, he only saw an occasional passerby in thick coats, scarves weaved around their faces. Man, he should have brought a scarf; his lips were probably turning blue. 

A small, childish part of him wished he had stayed talking with Abigail. Past every alley, every covered stranger, a chill crept up his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. He considered calling her back. She was probably calling their friends though. You’re worrying over nothing, he scolded himself. He was a grown-ass man, he could handle walking down a street himself, the same route he’d taken many times before. Alone. In the dark. 

Abigail kept telling him he should ask his doctor about anxiety meds. Maybe she was right. 

He was relieved when he made it to the store, offering him a brief respite. There was only one other customer who seemed to be studying two bottles intently. Kieran made his purchase, making easy small talk with the grizzled cashier trying to ignore his stomach twisting in knots.

He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to get warm, an awkward motion carrying bags of glass bottles. He hummed to himself as he walked, a cheesy romance he hoped would stave off anxious thoughts. He glanced behind. A couple of men were trailing at a steady pace, scarves concealing their faces. He turned back to face forward, his pace quickening just slightly. People are allowed to walk behind you, Kieran. He told himself firmly. Learning to face your fears is an important part of recovery. Don’t let anxiety control you. 

…But he’d also been taught to follow his instincts. What was he supposed to do when every gut feeling told him to run? 

He considered stopping to let them pass. Would that just make him seem suspicious? It would probably be weird. Home wasn’t far, he’d be there soon. A black car with tinted windows was parked up ahead. Had it ever been there before? He shook his head. Paranoid. He’s just paranoid. Lukas had always said so. It was hardly an unusual car, it’s no surprise he’d never noticed it. And people were allowed to visit.

Still, as he got closer his shoulders hunched, blood rushing in his ears. His stomach cramped, tightening painfully as every signal in his body rang wrong, wrong, wrong. Something was wrong. He halted in his tracks, willing himself to move, his body frozen as his mind raced, every alarm bell screaming go back, go back, danger danger dangerdanger-

A heavy weight slung around his shoulders drawing him in. He opened his mouth to yell, a gloved hand silencing him. Something hard pressed into his back, small and rounded and fuck, this wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening-

“Don’t make a sound,” A gruff voice whispered, a voice that didn’t sound natural. They were trying to disguise it. “Come with us quietly, and there won’t be any problems.” 

Kieran nodded numbly, his heart hammering against his chest. With a small nudge from whoever stood behind, with a gun did they have a gun please say that’s not a gun he was bundled into the black car where someone was already waiting to drive away. Two men sat either side of him, blocking every exit.

“Head down,” One commanded, shoving his head to his knees before he even had a chance to do so himself. His shopping bag was placed by their feet. They’d probably take the drinks for themselves. They took his phone too, along with his wallet leaving him with no form of identification. 

“Who are you?” Kieran dared to ask, his voice trembling. “Where are we going?”

“Shut up.” 

They were going to kill him. Oh god, he was going to be murdered, his body thrown in a woods somewhere or a lake or burned and oh god. Would they ever find him? Would his mother get to bury him? What about Abi, would she blame herself? How long would it take her to grow concerned? Was she already pacing around anxiously, wringing her hands, waiting for him to come home?

When they were out of city limits, they pushed him to the floor, wrapping cloth around his eyes, binding his wrists and ankles with duct tape which they also placed over his mouth. They must have driven for miles. He was transferred to another vehicle at some point, open conversations taking place in a language he couldn’t understand. Occasionally they’d rip the tape off to pour water down his throat. He fell asleep at one point, he thought. It was all a haze, fuzzy memories leaving him unable to distinguish what’s real and what is fake. 

Next thing he knew he was being roughly dragged outside, mud staining his clothes as  he was thrown to the floor. 

“Good to see you again, Angel.” 

Kieran stilled, every hair on his neck stood on end, his heart leapt to his throat. He thought it might just stop. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Lukas jeered, his honeyed voice washed over Kieran like acid. The blindfold was yanked off his face, letting him look up to a man he wished he’d forgotten. 

Calloused fingers cupped his cheek tenderly, bronze eyes filled with such gentle warmth met his own. He used to melt under that same gaze, putty in his hands. He would have done anything to please him, debased himself in so many ways just to see those soft eyes look at him once more. 

Now they just filled him with fear. 

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it Angel? Were you afraid you wouldn't see me again? I was beside myself. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing your face, haunting me like an enthralling ghost. I didn’t know what to do, I was so lost without you.” Lukas grabbed Kierans face in both hands, leaning in so close their noses almost touched, staring deep into his eyes in a way that made his skin crawl. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some horrible nightmare, he was gone, he got out, he fled across half the country just to be safe and it wasn’t enough. He wanted to scream, wanted to yell, wanted to kick and scratch and do anything that would get him out of here, anything to never be trapped with this monster again. 

But his limbs were bound, his mouth stuffed full of cloth. Even if they weren’t, he wasn’t sure he was capable of it. He’d never fought back then. He hadn’t changed at all, not really. He was still the same meek figure he’d been back then. 

“You should never have left me Angel,” Lukas breathed, his breath hot on his face. “You’ll never leave me again.”

If you enjoyed please consider reblogging, it really helps the reach and lets others enjoy it too!

Being kidnapped by your abusive ex is bad enough - even worse is Lukas needs to make money. How will he do that? Hurting his Angel on camera, of course <3

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"Was never a doubt in my mind, red. I know how much your kind enjoys your luxuries above all else. Created us in the first place so they wouldn't have to get their hands and fancy attires stained in monster gore and muck. Or have to wade through sewers, swamps and crypts."

Eskel's low tone chuckled under his breath at the thought, knowing all too well the vanity of the mages, men and women alike. The looks of horror some had given him over the years, when he had returned to them, monster head in hand, and covered in monster blood and gore. So ready to get their hands dirty against people and during schemes, but not the true horrors of the world. Vanity personified, of which she was one of them. He considered her suggestion, knowing she was trying to find an in, seduce him into it. If he did agree to it, he knew he could take measures to make sure she didn't try anything, knowing the keep and surrounding valley far better than she did. And with her portals, nothing could stop them from going back on the Path, in any kingdom, anytime they wished to. As important as the journey was, going around on foot and horseback, there was nothing in the Witcher Codex forbidding travel by portals where possible... even if Geralt had always had his misgivings about them. Misgivings Eskel did not share, among their many similarities and differences. Someone to talk to, and far more, even if it was her, would also not be unappreciated. Conversations with his goat and horse tended to be one way... though maybe that was a blessing in disguise. Fingers still slowly moving within her, smirk on his marred features deepening, he shrugged his shoulders slightly, seemingly noncommittal for the moment.

"Hmm... perhaps, if you're on the level. Carla Demetia Crest, also of Aretuza, did have a spacious tower room made for herself at Kaer Morhen long ago... Yennefer, Triss and Keira enjoyed staying in it during their visits... reckon you Aretuza women are of similar tastes. Wouldn't hurt to have a portal summoner around as an option as well, making travels quicker, when need be. And a bit of company. We'll see. I'll consider it. For now... I can think of other enjoyable things for us to attend to... between you and breakfast. To tide me over, for the contracts ahead of me, later."

The Witcher's deep, aroused and amused voice suggested languidly as he aligned them closely atop the bed in a spooning position, hands continuing to roam her perfect, pale body. Already he couldn't seem to get enough of it, of her, even as he took the time to enjoy it... she was intoxicating and addicting, the bond between them, of magic and destiny. Rubbing against her, slowly, grinding his hips forward, he at last slipped his hard manhood back gradually and deeply within the crimson haired Sorceress's wet womanhood, uttering a low, aroused breath as her tightness encompassed him. His grip on her tightening. He began kissing her again, tongue meeting hers and tasting her as he started likewise moving his hips, moving inside of her. Not rushing any of it, taking his time. Already the heat in his blood was growing, one he intended to share with her, to make her lose further control. Making of her a breakfast before they both ate. His mouth moved between hers and her neck, kissing, biting and suckling along it, his hands rubbing both her breasts and between her legs, fingers gliding along her wet clit in unison with the movements of his pelvis. He would build her up gradually, as she did to him... there was no rush with the day ahead of them, and he wanted the morning to be as memorable as the prior evening's reunion had been.

@fallesto

“Well despite all that has happened, I have my standards and I have my tastes as well, it all means a great deal to me, to cling to the little things that bring me joy within my life, so you have my thanks then, that you like them, I don’t intend to change for anyone, despite my situation.”

She was once a revered figure within the opulent halls of the royal courts, the witch now finds herself cast out, her once-glorious life reduced to mere whispers of the past. The grand tapestries that once adorned her chambers have been replaced by the tangled vines and gnarled roots of the forest, where she seeks refuge from those who once celebrated her talents. The vibrant colors of her former existence have faded into the muted greens and browns of the wilderness, a stark reminder of her fall from grace. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a far cry from the sweet perfumes of the court, as she navigates this new, treacherous world. It was horrid, but with him here, a taste of the life she had left behind. “Keep doing that.” The movements from him, the light touches, the experience of it all, was pleasurable beyond words, to the point her concentration would break, the pans and plates would fall and shatter, clattering onto the ground as she hummed, whatever he was seeking to do, was working for the time being.

In the depths of the forest, the witch is not alone; she has him with her now, despite her being pursued relentlessly by witch hunters, men and women driven by fear and a thirst for vengeance. They roam the underbrush with torches and pitchforks, their eyes gleaming with a fervor that speaks to the age-old belief that her powers are a threat to their very existence. Each rustle of leaves sends a shiver down her spine, a constant reminder that danger lurks just beyond her sight. The witch, once a master of spells and enchantments, now relies on her cunning and knowledge of the land to evade capture, weaving through the trees like a shadow, her heart pounding with the rhythm of survival. Now with a witcher, they could be unstoppable, did he have any idea how powerful they were, how good they were, how much they could do with one another, as she would sink into his embrace, back against his own, covers over them, maybe then, breakfast can wait for the time being, as she would close her eyes and sigh, as he set to his task, touching, exploring, but at the same time, despite it all, he never said no to her sly little request, to gauge his interest, to allow her to come with him.

“Think about it, me and you, there, we can be alone and we can work, no doubt many monsters lurking there, hunting the lost, travelers, merchants, money to be made, and monsters for me to work on, could help your work, besides my enemies are looking for me here, they will not expect me to go there, they expect me to remain here and try and make a comeback, not seeking to cause issues, somewhere to read, somewhere to work, somewhere to continue my understanding, and more time together, you don’t have to worry, not plotting to take a kingdom and collect kings crowns, just need time to work without being hunted.”

[c0ntr0lledchaos]

2023 Year of Whump - Week 1 Caged

wordcount: 1120

“I am so glad you decided to come to see me, Anna!” The Queen said, walking a few paces in front of Anna and the two guards escorting her. 

The long corridor spun as Anna struggled to stay upright, only managing not to fall from the bruising grip on her arms. Anna had almost managed to slip out of the baggy green jacket she wore, but when the guards realized she was slipping they tightened their grip. She feared if she tried again they might break her arms.

Anna had never felt this sick as far back as she could remember. This was not very far at the moment considering it felt like her head was full of jello. She had a few severe fevers when she was a child, but slept through most of them, once not even realizing she was sick until she woke up in the hospital almost a full 24 hours later. Her head was pounding, and the world felt as if it was spinning around her. The fact that it was possible at this moment didn’t help her ground herself. 

She had been to the Queen's realm a few times before when she was a guest and not a prisoner. Anna didn’t know if it was magic that created this place or simply science that she didn’t understand yet. The line between those two things seemed to get more blurred as time passed. Whatever this place was, it was not made for being seen with human eyes. The walls seemed to shift and change and Anna could not tell where the sky ended and the ceiling began. The first time she was there, she was amazed at the servants and guards passing through the walls and how the scenery appeared to change around her as she moved through the castle. There was no echo no matter where you stood but if someone wanted you to, you would hear them, sometimes without even seeing them. 

The Queen herself was strange too. Her form seemed to barely be held together, her body black and slimy like oil. Her arms seemed as if they might drip right off her body and no matter how much Anna tried, she could not count how many there were. Her body was skinny and hourglass-shaped, completely impossible for a human to achieve and it reminded Anna a bit of Jessica Rabbit. She appeared to be wearing a long, floor-length evening gown but it was unclear where the gown ended and the Queen's skin began. 

“For the time being this will be your home,” the Queen said, turning to Anna as they came to a stop. The Queen’s head was a startling difference from the rest of her body. It was probably the most solid of all of her, appearing to be a bright white skeletal animal head. Anna did not have a lot of reference for what animal skulls looked like but the shape reminded her of a horse, except with a lot more sharp teeth. Her head was as if three skulls had been fused, blended almost perfectly. None of the mouths moved as she spoke. “I know it's a bit… uncomfortable as of right now but I hope that will be a motivator to work with me, my dear.”

Anna looked up, barely registering that they were not in the main hall anymore. This place was dark, and the floor felt soft and squishy, like wet moss. The Queen was standing next to a wall made out of bars and before Anna could process what was going on, the guards thrust her toward the bars. She braced herself but fell right through them and fell to the floor. 

“I do hope you will start seeing things my way darling,” the Queen said, her voice sickly sweet. “The more you behave, the more comfortable I will make your… sleeping arrangements.”

Anna sat up and groaned, holding her head in her hands. Strands of hair fell in front of her face, appearing black instead of brown in the dim cell. In Anna’s swimming vision, it almost looked like the oil that dripped off the Queen. She tried to glare at the Queen but had to quickly shut her eyes again, the spinning room being too much. The Queen chuckled, her shoulders bouncing slightly even though her faces remained motionless. The sound bounced around in Anna’s head and felt like an ice pick was being stabbed into her ears.

“Do not fight it, sweetheart. I know this may hurt right now, but after some time you will get used to it. I’ve heard humans are very adaptable.” The Queen turned and began to walk away, her guards following behind her silently.

“What do you want from me?!” Anna yelled at her, her voice sounding far away and echoing around her. The pain in her head peaked and Anna had to use almost all her willpower to keep from passing out. The Queen stopped at this and turned, looking back at Anna for a moment before speaking.

“That is a very good question,” The Queen said, turning back around to face Anna fully. “And the answer is both complicated and simple.”

The Queen approached the bars again. Anna tried to stand but found herself too off-balance to do so, settling instead to remain seated on the ground. She tried her best not to feel intimidated as the Queen loomed over her.

“You have something I want Anna. Something I have been missing, something that was stolen from me a long time ago. Do you know what that might be Anna?”

The use of her actual name was a bit of a shock to Anna. She had gotten used to the nicknames and terms of endearment the Queen always used for her. To hear her say Anna’s actual name sounded wrong somehow. 

“I don’t know what I have that you want,” Anna said, trying to reason with the Queen. She couldn’t help the desperation that crept into her voice. It was still kinda strange. Up until today, the Queen had been a decent person to Anna. Sure, she was a bit weird but she wasn’t human so Anna didn’t think much of it. She couldn’t help but wonder how many red flags she overlooked. “I haven’t stolen anything from you. I don’t think I was given anything that was stolen from you. Just tell me what it is so I can give it back!”

Another spike of pain sent Anna reeling and darkness seemed to start creeping into her vision. When the Queen spoke next it sounded quiet and far away.

"Well sweety, what's the fun in that? We don’t want any spoilers, do we?”

[solargeist]

You’ve single-handedly caused me to return to the exiled Tommy arc full throttle,, he eats the body and runs, comes back to bury it and it’s gone,,, Dream shows up later with that characteristic “Hey Tommy :) whatcha lookin’ for?” bcus they both know Tommy is coming back to hide what he’s done and now this act of desperation is just another thing for Dream to hold over him,, like “you’re a monster Tommy, but I’m still your friend. Do you think anyone else will love you if they know you killed and ate me? I forgive you. Everyone else will hate you, they’ll be terrified of you, you’re disgusting, but I’m still here”,,, GOSH I NEED TO WRITE SOMETHING NOW

Do y'think he'd still be half eaten ? Revival not taking into the account the flesh that's been ripped from him ? Lol

i think tommey grabbed from the throat and pulled, so it ripped up his face

[keeps-ache]

blood of the covenant

[catliker49]

Hello!!! I have not posted in a while!!!! I haven't had many ideas of what to draw for Welcome Home (I still Love Welcome Home with my entire heart though! Which is frustrating because I do not know how to express my passion for it, aahh!!!!) Here are two funny Wally drawings I did on Paint whilst making funny cat drawings with my friends! (The cat is called Crankenstein and it has a Scrooge outfit, so fun!!)

I might open my ask box (If I can figure out how to do that.. or can do that at all) for ideas or just whatever really! Yay!!

[godsfavoritescientist]

The whole time I've been reading Flatland I've tried to picture what a comparable version of it would be for a 4 dimensional being visiting a 3 dimensional being. I've been picturing 4d vision as being able to see the entire surface area of a 3d object all at once, but now I think that might be comparable to a 2d person thinking that 3d vision only means being able to see all of the exterior edges of an object at once, without picturing any of the planes that connect the lines. I think a more accurate description of 4d vision might involve being able to see *every single* cross-section of a 3d object all at once, from *every possible* angle at once, as one coherent visual whole. And the idea of someone being able to see every single cross-section of a body all at once, brain and guts and everything, laid out all together as if on a flat plane, is a horrifying mental image

[enkidushield-a]

to those of you who don't m.agpod this will not make sense but listen listen -

GLADIO : THE HUNT - manifesting as a man's primal strength, animal instinct, baring too sharp teeth and roaring with the mouth of a beast, a protective and possessive attachment to others, an affinity for tracking - hunting - finding, and the thrill of the chase.

IGNIS : THE EYE - manifesting as a gaze that never wavers until it does, ceaselessly watching, sensing the danger in others and the potential of what is to come, making connections that others do not, an avid need for knowledge, and plans upon plans.

PROMPTO : THE STRANGER - manifesting as being almost and not quite human, lack of self and wavering identity, being a monster underneath it all, the knowledge that your body isn't your own, uncanny valley, body horror, and the struggle to fit the mould of what you think you should be.

NOCTIS : THE END - manifesting as nightmares and dreams that haunt your waking hours, the uncaring and unstoppable cruelty of death, being born to die, sickness and illness but never death - for the world is not done with you, cataclysms and the ability to end them, sacrifice, and walking toward ones end.

[wr0ngwarp]

um. uh. hi every body. something evil and malevolent happened in my brain this month.

this is. um. a Jet Set Radio/Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Death joke AU, spawned out of a in-joke that started in a pokepasta discord. my apologies to both the pokepasta and jsr fandoms

the entire basis is the idea that Corn in Future retconned og JSR Beat as leader/founder of the GGs (is beat being leader in the og even CANON?) so Corn and Beat are the Myras. no it's not a joke funny enough to justify how many hours i sunk into drawing these. no attempt was made to change the setting, assign most of the other cast, or otherwise make this au hold up to ANY amount of scrutiny. if i tried to make this actually work somehow then i'd REALLY end up too far gone. also i keep calling myrtle!beat "Meat".

MEANWHILE, IN A BETTER UNIVERSE:,

[ehlnofay]

19 for the worldbuilding prompts + Torr?

the profound quiet of a small settlement at night

North Eastmarch is freezing cold all over, but it wears different outside the city than within.

Torr would never call Windhelm warm – not even in summer months, no matter how used to it they are – but what little heat it has it clings to with great determination. The walls huddle together, trapping the air so that it’s either still and muggy or a howling wind, like each close-knit house is breathing in tandem. The heat of the people run up and down its streets, blood through its knotted stone veins. The city is alive, an ecosystem unto itself; its snow, dark with footprints, runs sludgy down the roads; a fireplace is always burning somewhere.

Outside of the walls, surrounded by nothing but empty air and snow-laden trees, a slow-moving stream running with barely a burble – it feels dead, in contrast. Silent. Branches reach needle-sharp across the blue-black sky, the ground is gleaming white and undisturbed by anyone else’s footprints, and the nearest fire is the barely visible gleam of the Kynesgrove mining camp, up the hill and through the sporadic spindles of the trees. The breeze ghosts past Torr’s neck and whips the mud-stained snow into a flurry.

In the city, Torr’s comfortable sleeping almost anywhere – as comfortable as they ever get, anyway. Some of the buildings have great gaps under the porch where the snow can’t reach and no-one ever finds them; there’s places in the nooks of the walls, and sheds built into the side of the house that people don’t lock, and Torr knows a few people besides who don’t mind him kipping on their floor every now and again, as long as he doesn’t ask too often. The outside isn’t like that. There’s not many places to go. He’s lurking around Kynesgrove tonight – on his way back from a quick venture out to get some things done that pay better than running errands around the markets – and there aren’t many options. The inn, which he can’t afford – the mine, which would be warm but is very guarded – the miner’s encampment or someone’s house, both of which would most likely result in being chased off. Besides, there’s a performative element to meeting people, especially adults, in strange places, and Torr’s not in the mood to play to strangers. So much of his being is caught up in Windhelm’s grimy alleys, tangled in the hair and fingers of its discarded children; he doesn’t know how to be himself away from it all.

But they don’t have to, seeing as there’s the rickety old sawmill on the edge of a stream feeding into the harbour. It’s not bad, as shelter goes; no walls, so the wind rubs its fingers wraithlike down Torr’s cheeks and tangles them in his hair, but at least there’s a roof. It looks newly thatched, too, the floorboards free of rot, the water-wheel still chugging creakily along. There’s no wood to cut here, all the nearby surrounding trees too scraggy to be worth the bother. The only big ones are part of the grove up on the hill. There’s no point in keeping the mill running, but Torr is glad it is; he watches the distant firelight flickering through the scrub, and listens to the splashing of the wheel. It’s proof that people and the things they make do still exist – if not necessarily here.

It really feels dead, out in the cold, with the leafless trees and the wind that doesn’t even whisper. It always does. It’s a bit discomfiting, which is maybe why Torr doesn’t go on out-of-city endeavours as often as perhaps he could; but really, there’s not work out here enough to make it worth it. There’s always problems with bandits on the road, but Torr’s not a good enough fighter for bounty work; there’s collecting plants and things to sell Nurelion, but that’s easy enough to do on a day trip. (And, really, it’s more for Torr’s own enjoyment, besides. They never even venture far south enough to get to the sulphur pools, which is where the more interesting things grow.)

This trip, though, is an outlier. Unusually efficient. Just a quick job for Niranye, scouting a merchant’s cart on the road – almost definitely for something shady, but that’s not Torr’s business, and it was too much money too easy to turn down. And then – just earlier today, foraging out in the wilderness as best as Torr (a distinctly urban animal) knows how – they’d come across a giant’s corpse, stiff and white as the snow it lay in. Torr’s no master alchemist but they know the value of a cadaver when it comes to brewing alloys and admixtures, so they set to with their blunt-edged dagger and now they’ve got a sack full of what may as well be gold. (Long as it doesn’t start to rot before they can get Nurelion to preserve it, anyway.)

Torr’s going to be rolling in it when they get back to Windhelm. They could use that money for nearly anything – pay off a few things they borrowed, new warm things now that winter’s coming back strong, bedrolls, waterskins. Endless options – which, strangely, is more exciting than it is burdensome.

It’s all the sort of decision that would ordinarily feel life-or-death urgent but right now feels – not small. Not insignificant, not at all, but distant. A choice to be made at another time, by another person.

(Torr’s whole being belongs to Windhelm’s back streets. They’re someone else, away from it all.)

That’s the other thing about leaving the city, spending time in the discomfiting slow-paced ghost-world outside. It’s quiet. Torr sits surrounded by the wind in the trees, the lazy murmur of the stream, the creak of the water-wheel, and nothing else.

He’s been called a worrywart (mostly by Griss in a strop) but to tell the truth he doesn’t think that’s true. Torr doesn’t fuss for the sake of fussing, he just doesn’t like to leave things undone; can’t stop until he finds a solution. Out here, alone, in the empty cold, there are no solutions to find – same old problems back home, he knows, but no steps he can take at this time to right them. That’s never true while he’s in the city, so he can never stop thinking about it, every choice and action accompanied by a buzzing background chorus of everything else he really should be doing – that really should have been done by now – that should never have been left undone this long, what was he thinking? Everything is urgent when it’s doable. But here and now, there’s nothing to do.

So Torr sits hunched on the board floor of the ramshackle watermill, huddled among their heaps of bags and blankets, and thinks of nothing at all.

Not strictly true. They think of supper – haven’t eaten since an apple this morning, except for some snowberries they found around noon, and it’s been a long day. They nabbed some turnips from the garden of the Kynesgrove inn on their way to the mill. They’re fresh, if nothing else – also covered in dirt, so Torr rises reluctantly from their pile of stuff to crouch on the banks of the stream and dip the vegetables in to clean them off. It aches like hell, the frozen water turning their joints to ice – they almost drop the turnip they’re washing, so they scrub it as best they can with the frigid pad of their thumb and whip their hands out of the water soon as they’re able. They stick their fingers in their mouth to warm them back up.

Even after all that time spent warming up their hands, arraying all their belongings back around themself to conserve body heat, the turnips are still cold enough to hurt Torr’s teeth when he bites in. He eats them anyway, relishing a little in the unearthly silence and the aching of his lips and palms. They taste delicious.

With nothing else to do after, the gnawing of his stomach sated, he wraps himself in his shawl and stares up the hill at the camp’s fire until it goes out. The stars wink into brighter being. The wind whistles through the whip-thin branches of the trees. The water-wheel creaks.

Torr sleeps, but he feels like he hears it all – a silent observer, an echo, a beginning – until morning.

[cryptidcalling]

Vesper thoughts; Late Night Swim (Please read the tags for CW before opening)

Sometimes, when it's late at night and he can't sleep, Vesper will go for a swim in the Citadel's private pool. Technically it's Pansa's, but Vesper uses it far more often. He keeps the overhead lights off, just turning on the ambient lights beneath the water, setting them to a soft pink. The water is cold at night, since he never bothers to turn on the heaters. He lowers himself in slowly and launches off the side with his feet, dipping below the water and silently swimming across the length of the pool. He touches his fingertips to the opposite wall, comes up for a breath, and then launches off again. He lets himself get lost in the rhythm of it, almost meditative as each gasp for breath and soft splash fills the otherwise silent room. He'd struggled with swimming when he was young. He'd never seen so much water in one place before, and he certainly couldn't imagine being able to move your body through it. He hadn't been the only cadet who couldn't swim, but he still wasn't willing to be left behind, learning this basic skill as others got to start the real training. He took up every second of pool time he was allowed to. The number of times he'd almost drowned was over half a dozen. It never stopped him. Tonight he swims with grace, barely perceptible in the dark, pink water. On one wall of the pool room is a massive window overlooking the city of Starport. Lights glimmer from below, but up above the jagged silhouette of skyscrapers is a clear view of the night sky. Three moons shine brightly, surrounded by the pinprick light of stars. Vesper lets it interrupt his focus, gliding to the edge of the pool and staring out. The city is always alight, never sleeping, alive with the constant flow of power thanks to Stardust, the lifeblood of the Empire. He's not unlike the city, in that way. As his gaze turns up towards the sky, he gets a familiar feeling in his chest. It feels like someone is pulling him, like there are two strong hands wrapped around his ribs tugging him out toward the sky. The tightness spreads up into his neck, feeling as if there's something lodged there, words he does not know trapped in his throat, desperately needing to be called out. He tries to follow the feeling, let the words free, but there's nothing. He remains silent. Finally, he pushes away from the wall and treads water in the center of the pool. If he looks closely at the water he can almost convince himself that it's reflecting the sky. Vesper takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He lets himself sink. He can feel it when his back makes contact with the floor. He looks behind him, but nothing is there. Stretching infinitely in all directions is the cold, eternal void of space. His hair flows up above him with no gravity to hold it down. Beyond him is a field of stars, trillions all clustered together, sisters lighting up the otherwise desolate stage in a glittering crescendo of flame and color. For a moment their magnificence is all he can comprehend, and he releases the knot in his throat in a silent, awestruck breath. Bubbles emerge from his mouth and float up and away.

Their beauty reaches his soul, but their warmth is inaccessible at this distance. The void's cold prickles against his skin. His fingers buzz like static, and when he finally brings them up to his face they're a bright pink. With a twitch, his fingertips break away into shimmering Stardust. There's an odd feeling in his chest again. It's different now, not being pulled away but rather crushing in on itself. It feels tight and uncomfortable, constricting his lungs and pressing hard against his bones. He watches as more of his hand disintegrates and floats away from him. It doesn't hurt much. It's prickly and uncomfortable, but then it's just numb. Maybe it will spread across his whole body. That wouldn't be so bad really. He could stay here forever that way. The pressure has turned into pain. It's crushing his lungs, traveling up his esophagus and winding around his throat. It hurts. He wants the light to spread faster, to reach his chest and turn it to dust so the ache will stop. He'll be at rest, his body turned to Stardust, the lifeblood of the Empire. The Empire. Vesper opens his eyes. He breaks the surface of the water with a crash and is able to make his way to a ledge, resting his weight against it as he violently coughs and gasps for air. It takes him several minutes to finally catch his breath. He's tired, and he's freezing, but he feels more at ease than he had before. He gets out and dries himself off, changing into some very comfortable pajamas, a gift from Pansa. He returns to his quarters and crawls back into bed. The covers are soft and warm. Feeling cozy and exhausted, he finds it easy to drift off to sleep. He dreams of stars.

[bhaalsdeepbat]

I REALLY WANNA COSPLAY FROM BG3 but i cannot. pick. who.

it's between shadowheart and isobel rn bc those are the two that do not require bodypaint otherwise i'd be lae'zel

[musical-chick-13]

ALSO now that I'm on the Complaint Train, I would love it if I could say, "This thing might be artistically good on other levels and if you like it, good for you have fun, but the gross way it talks about/handles mental illness is too much for me, to the point where I have to avoid watching/reading it for my own well-being" and people would go, "Yeah, that makes sense, you do you" instead of "Omg, you're so sensitive, lmao just get over it."

[jackgoodfellow]

I made a new suitor for my horror-comedy dating manga concept I Escaped My Genre!

At this community cooking college, majoring in dinner theatre of course means that you must master the art of theatre AS WELL AS the art of cabaret-appropriate foods that align with the themes of whatever show you are doing!

But the college also has a vibrant student theatre scene: Phoenix is actually directing the Drama Club's production of Romeo & Juliet this spring as their end-of-year final! I wonder if Samo will try out! (And I wonder if Phoenix will end up looking romantically into Samo's eyes and finding that in that moment, all zyr carefully-curated bravado drops away, and suddenly, ze is no longer acting; ze is simply feeling, and it changes everything.)

Also, since I put so much work into this character design, Phoenix will absolutely be making an appearance in my graphic novel! (You can find my published scripts and concept art here, if you wanna make my day!)