#knife wielding hero

[dark-elf-writes]

For the AssClass AU, what kind of Izuku ships are we looking at?

Aandjsj I don’t even know. Like I would love someone from E Class but the thought of a single person in UA looking at the absolute terror that is Izuku Midoriya and not being afraid (and tbh kinda into it?) is very funny to me. Also the shovel talk would be a thing of fucking nightmares okay

[ndyp-thot]

Well look what day it is. And who better would celebrate it.

Our lil knife wielder, Psy.

Animation by: Dennis Buara

[lil-mr-slipstream]

-Voices-

A collection of portraits depicting the voices from Slay the Princess, taking inspiration from the style of the video game Disco Elysium! The Voice of the Hero, a knight, an iconic silhouette against a luminant halo. A color palette of black, blue, and teal.

The Voice of the Hunted, a beast trying to protect its heart from danger, represented here as a crosshair.

The Voice of the Smitten, the knife wound letting loose lovely streams of swirling bodily juices into the air.

The Voice of the Cold, dark, and angular. Something completely unafraid to kill.

The Voice of the Skeptic, attempting to fly, tearing himself away from chains and what looks like his own body.

The Voice of the Paranoid, Frantic and multi-eyed, clutching at a wound.

The Voice of the Contrarian, flying in stark contrast to the others, glowing instead of secluded, a mischievous fairy or will o' the wisp, instead of a grotesque figure.

The Voice of the Broken, shattered and leaking. A humanoid figure is no longer recognizable.

The Voice of the Stubborn, Fiery eyes, and big meaty claws. The brushwork is chaotic.

The Voice of the Cheated, smoke leaking from puncture wounds still embedded within him. He's holding a cigar, too; probably where all the smoke is coming from.

The Voice of the Opportunist, carrying multiple masks on his person, and wielding a poorly concealed knife.

And finally (for now) The Long Quiet itself, the night sky, swirling sigils blurred in the dark.

[writers-potion]

Writing Weapons (2): Knives and Daggers

Dagger vs. Sword

In many situations, daggers might be more plausible than a sword fight.

Dagger are eaiser to carry and conceal, lighter, faster, good for spontaneous action, suicide bids, self-defense and assassination.

Dagger vs. Knife

No clear distinction; terms used interchangeably

Dagger is more for thrusting with 2 sharp edges

Knife is more for cutting (slashing) with 1 sharp edge

Concealment

Carried in a leather sheath on the belt

Can be concealed under a cloak, in a bodice (sheath sewn into the bodice), in a boot, behind hari ornaments

Bodice daggers (popular in the Renaissance) had no cross guards.

Connotations

Beside its combat value, the dagger has lots of emotional and sexual symbolisms.

The closeness need to attack with a dagger creates intense personal connection. They are often used in fights where emotions are running high: gang warfare, hate crime, vengeance.

Due to its shape and the fact that it's usually worn on a belt made it a symbol of virility in many cultures and periods.

Sometimes it was the hilt rather than the blade: like in the case of bollocks daggers with two...balls on either side of the hilt.

Fighting Techniques

Stabbing:-

The dagger with long, thin blades are made to stab a vital organ like the kidneys, liver, bowel, stomach or heart.

Stabbing directly at the chest seldom works, since the blde may glance off the ribs. Position the dagger below the ribcage and drive it upwards, through the diaphragm and into the lungs. If the sword is long enough and your fighter is a professional, you can get to the heart.

If no professional, just keep going for the stomach and you'll get one of the vital organs eventually.

Slashing:-

When describing a slash wound, show a lot of blood streaming, or even spurting.

Slashing dagger fights are bloody - show your MC's hands getting slick with blood, grip on the weapon slipping.

The aim is to cut the opponent's throat or cut tendoms, muscles, or ligaments to disable. Slashing the muscles in the weapon-wielding arm is the most effective; insides of the writst or back of the knee is also critical.

Assassinations:-

Show good knowledge of the humna antatomy

Use a stabbing dagger

A single, determined, calculated and efficient stroke, probably below the ribs.

Self-Defense:-

Disable the attacker by slashing their weapon-wielding hand (elbow or wrist)

Quick, multiple stabs wherever the MC can get the blade to land; the attacker won't give time for careful positioning

If the blade is too short to do any significant damage, maek up for this by stabbing so ast that the pain and blood loss distracts the opponent.

Vegeance and Hatred:-

Someone who is motivated by raging emotions will stab the victim repeatedly, even after he is already dead.

The attacker may stab or salsh the victim's face, disfiguring it.

Contemporary street fights and gang warfare usually involves these.

Duels:-

If both fighters are armed with daggers, include wrestling-type moves as they try to restrict each other's weapon hand.

Show them trying to disable each other by slashing insides of writes, elbows, the back of the knees, etc.

Dagger + Sword

If the character is expecting a fight, they can hold a sword in their right hand, and a dagger in their left to fight with both

Sword + mace combination also common.

Blunders to Avoid:

Direct stabbing at the chest wouldn't work.

Hero cannot cut his bread with a stabbing sword

adapted from <Writer's Craft> by Rayne Hall

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp prompt #13: Hell to Pay

They say there are only two things certain in life: death and taxes. That’s why even the Joker doesn’t fuck with the IRS.

However, unfortunately for the Joker the other certainty is death and he has yet to pay his dues. Just like how he could only get away with tax evasion for so long, there are only so many times the Joker can dodge death.

Death is coming to collect, with interest.

And the Joker will have hell to pay.

~ A dark green cloud swirls over the city. From it, emerge three oppressive figures:

The one on the far left with flowing hair like white-hot fire. His vambraces made of (what appeared to be) molten glass stopped under his fingers, which then extend into into claws that seemed to drip lava. He had spiked obsidian pauldrons on his shoulders, fastening a luminous, stark-white cape to his shoulders. He wore a coronet of lightning and wielded a flail that appeared to be made of coal chains and a shrunken Red Giant star.

The second on the far right had a helm of dark iron wreathed in a plume of purple flame. His gauntlets and sword flamed with green hellfire. A pure black sheath seemingly made of void and a silver hunting horn were tied to his waist. He wore an armor forged of shadows and proofed with fear. He rode atop a mighty stead. An inky dark stallion with a curved horn and bat-like wings. His form was constantly slightly shifting depending on the angle which you viewed him making him appear larger and more slippery than he was, enhancing his disquieting nature.

The third stood in the middle, smaller but no less terrifying than her companions. Her hair was wild with movement, only just visible because it appeared as if someone had bound the winds to her head. She wore a tiara made of storm clouds and pearls. She carried with her a spear, the shaft crafted of amazonite and the tip of a clear quartz, almost reminiscent of sea salt. At her hip lay a whip made of a restrained gale and a sea glass knife. She wore armor that appeared to be Greco-Roman in origin: a chest plate made of some sort of coral-like material and a battle skirt decorated with metallic bronze feathers.

They slowly descent on the city, bringing down a sense of power and dread. They paused at the top of Wayne Tower, where the city's vigilantes had all gathered in an attempt to create and feasible plan of action to discern what these beings want. The young woman in the middle speaks and the wind carries her voice. She is not loud but it the whole of Gotham hears her words.

"Greetings, Heroes of Gotham. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Spirit, Princess and Head Diplomat of the Infinite Realms. This is Samhain, the Fright Knight, loyal knight to the king,” she gestured to her right before switching to her left “and this is Prince Wraith, current General in Chief of the Realms. We come to you as the King’s Guard and entourage. We have official business in your city and wish to civilly notify you of our presence. The King will be arriving shortly and your cooperation would be great fully received.”

Batman moved forward to shake her hand and address the situation.

“I’m afraid that we prefer not to have unknowns operating within the city. Would you be able to tell us what business you have here? Perhaps we could reach an agreement?” Batman tried to negotiate as politely as he could. He did not want to risk offending the evidently powerful beings.

Princess Spirit’s smile sharpened as she thrummed her finger against her knife. She spoke again with an unnervingly pleasant tone.

“It appears you do not understand. We are not asking for your permission.” Her grip around his hand tightened. “ We are informing you.” She finished releasing his hand.

Batman withdrew his aching hand and regarded her with the beginnings of a protest on his lips. She didn’t allow him to speak.

“ This is out of your jurisdiction Batman. This is a matter of the Realms and the Afterlife. Whatever worldly rules or morals you wish to impose on those who enter this city do not apply to us. We will do our best to work within them, so as to appease you and to attempt to maintain a friendly relationship but in the macrocosm of the multiverse and afterlives you have no official power over us. Additionally, we have direct permission to operate here however we see fit from the City Spirit herself, Lady Gotham.”

Batman’s shadow seemed to fluctuated. His and his team's shadows moved from beneath them, closer to the Princess. Lady Gotham, though not manifesting, was making her presence and approval known. Batman could not deny what he was seeing. His team shifted uncomfortably behind him. He appealed to her once more.

“ I see that we can’t stop you. We don’t want to get in your way either. Could you at least tell us why you are here?”

She smiled as if telling a joke, “All will be revealed in time”

Suddenly, there was a loud noise that sounded like tearing fabric. The green clouds mixed with purples and blues and began to churn faster. The cyclone emitted a flashes of bright light. In unison all three of the King’s Guard lifted up from the roof and took place underneath the eye of the wind storm.

Spirit holds her spear aloft. With one swift, commanding move she slams the butt of her spear down, creating a platform out of solidified air.

Wraith bellows out smoke and ash onto the platform to discolor it. With ferocious and precise movements his claws to carve in a sigil, leaving a soft orange glow against the black and gray.

Samhain sheathes his sword and pulls his horn from his waist. He wills his dark stead to rear up as he blows the horn, letting out one loud prolonged cry.

The three warriors stand at attention and Princess Spirit calls the winds to project her voice once more.

“ Now introducing the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, High King of the In-Between, The Great One, The Benevolent King, The Peace Maker, The Guardian of Souls, The One with the Cloak of Stars and the Crown of Frozen Light, The Perfect Balance, Ancient of Space and Reality, The Infinite King: Phantom!”

With a flash of white light a figure appear in the center of the platform. Simultaneously, the three knights bow in reverence.

The King has arrived.

As the Heroes of Gotham regain clear vision they are met with a striking figure.

There stood a toned young man appearing both boyishly young, yet wisened and weathered. He had side swept hair the creeped to the bottom of his neck. His skin was pale with an icy blue tint. He opened his eyes to reveal they shone an electric green. Upon his head rest a crown made of a crystalline material, reminiscent of an aurora. He wore a navy blue cloak that had a rich purple hood lined with stark white fur. The underside displayed a shifting galaxy pattern. His under suit was the same midnight black as Samhain’s. He donned golden arm bands and a gold chest plate in style quite similar to Spirit’s. His hand were covered in snow white gauntlets that matched Wraith’s vambraces.

They all stood in awe, beholden to the almost divine figure.

The king sent them a gentle smile. It was warm and comforting yet sent a chill down their shoulders.

King Phantom began to fly down toward the center of the city, his entourage fell into step behind him. He hovered several hundred feet over Wayne tower and looked down at the city. He then spoke in a booming voice, his tone kind but commanding.

“ I humbly greet the Lady Gotham, her champions, and her citizens,” the shadows curled toward him appreciatively. “ I am grateful for your cooperation in our effort to rectify a great injustice. As High King of the Infinite Realms it is one of my duties to preside over the afterlife. To bring guidance, peace, and justice to the souls under my jurisdiction. Recently, it has been brought to my attention that there is a soul among you who has not only dodged death, but caused great strife to a vast number of souls who call for justice.”

On the roof of Wayne Enterprises Jason and Damian both stiffen, but remain firm in their gaze toward the king. The king looks out at the city and sparing them the quickest of glances. He continues onward.

“ The man formerly know as Jack Napier, now called The Joker. He has avoided death on many an occasion but his life should have ended moment he fell into a vat of chemicals. Since then he has sent hundreds more to the afterlife. He has long yet to pay his dues. That is why on the behalf of justice, restoring balance, and of my subjects I officially condemn Jack Napier.”

“Jack Napier, you have been allowed 24 hours turn yourself into our custody in order to be put on trial for your crimes in the Infinite Realms. Should you fail to turn youself in, we shall take that as an admission of guilt and acceptance to be punished for your actions. After the 24 hours are up, Samhain shall use his horn to summon The Hunt and we shall track you down.”

His gaze passed specifically over Red Hood, one of the Oracle’s drones, Nightwing, Signal, Red Robin, and Batman before he spoke his next words.

“All those souls who have been wronged by the Joker, both living and deceased, who wish to have a hand in their justice have been invited to join The Hunt if they so choose.”

The king lifted his hand, calling the swirling green clouds to his gather in his palm. The clouds swiftly rearranged themselves into a smokey timer hanging in the sky.

An impish smirk graced King Phantom’s face as he let out a malicious laugh and gave his final decree.

“ Your time begins now!”

[corseque]

Transferring a twitter Dragon Age 4 theory to tumblr:

This is a theory about the very latest DA4 information that people were upset to learn about because they want to wait for the game rather than hear too much, so look elswhere if that is you. I suspect that Rook is called "Rook" for a reason. I suspect their color is purple for a reason.

Rook is associated with trickery and death, a bad omen.

Hmm.... that reminds me a little of a "dread wolf."

I, for a long time, thought the game was called "Dreadwolf" because the main character would be taking on the trials and tribulations and responsibilities of the Dread Wolf onto their own shoulders. This suspicion has expanded hugely in my mind when I think about DA4 because what exactly is the story set-up, here? What is the Dread Wolf?

Solas, who is playing the role in the story of Dragon Age of an ancient trickster deity, has claim and power over the functions that trickster gods. Namely, power over doorways, thresholds, boundaries.

It doesn't matter what Solas thinks about godhood if he has all the trappings and power of godhood. There is no material difference in a fictional story.

(I love that Solas in the prologue is demonstrating exactly what you would expect from a Trickster God in this situation - manipulating boundaries, and then being Just a Little Guy.)

So the game prologue opens on Solas, a trickster god, delicately manipulating the magical boundary between worlds, which is something that you would expect a trickster god to do. Then unfolds a scene in which a tiny figure (Rook) causes a larger-than-life god (Solas) mischief and, with Rook's foolish meddling, undoes the very fabric of normalcy, trapping the trickster god and throwing the world into chaos, upsetting the very balance of power between the gods, threatening the end of the world.

Rook then recieves power over the Veil the trickster god has, the sacred knife that the trickster god wields, the ability to traverse back and forth between the boundaries only easily traversed by the trickster god, the magical mirror teleportation network of the trickster god, the magical floating Lighthouse home of the trickster god, the responsibilities of the trickster god, etc.

Rook also recieves the advice of the trickster god, whether they want it or not (it seems).

Do you see what I'm saying?

"They call me the Dread Wolf, what will they call you when this is over?"

I think this game may be about Rook becoming a trickster god.

As Felassan tells Briala in The Masked Empire, "[Becoming a god] is for the stories to decide."

Tricksters in folklore are very often mortal, human heroes. Very often, they act stupidly and foolishly (like we are said to do by interrupting Solas in the prologue) and somehow win anyway.

And what more powerful figure could there be, to fight with gods? Only a little guy like Solas or Rook, could hope to fight multiple gods and win. A little tiny trickster hero who makes foolish mistakes but is unkillable like Bugs Bunny is actually the perfect challenger to all-powerful deities.

Anyway, so if we get all of Solas' powers and his responsibilities, if we're, in a way, in training to become a trickster god. We may be stepping into myth and doing his job for him, disrupting things the way he does, and there will be comparisons. (the articles tell us that Solas is comparing himself to Rook, and that he doesn't like what he sees of himself in Rook). People always acted like Solas' situation was incredibly easy, but imo we could never actually understand what his story was, or see it from his point of view, enough to judge him. But if we actually walk in his shoes, then maybe we can actually have a part of the conversation. And later, maybe part of the myth.

The little Rook-bird that tugged the Dread Wolf's tail and let the creators free again, the little trickster Rook that destroyed or saved the world. I wonder what kind of trickster they will call us, when it is all over?

[pinklayla123]

Is it a coincidence that three seemingly normal human sisters are now Fae? Is it a coincidence that one of them is mated to and is the High Lady of the most powerful High Lord the land has ever seen, and rivals him in power? Is it a coincidence that one of the sisters stole from the Cauldron, the bowl of Life and Death, and was then blessed by the Mother herself? Is it a coincidence that she is mated to one of the most fearsome warriors the land has ever seen, who is often likened to one of the original heroes who gave his life defending his people against the Daglan? Is it a coincidence that the third sister, blessed by the Cauldron despite its corruption, is able to wield the knife of that long-ago warrior? Is it a coincidence that the male who now bears that knife, a mighty warrior in his own right, has powers resembling those of the Fae who fought against the Daglan, and is unable to stay away from the third sister? Is it a coincidence that the Dread Trove of the Daglan has resurfaced and is in the hands of one of the sisters, who can wield it with little effort? Is it a coincidence that Gwydion, lost for fifteen thousand years, has been returned and is now in close proximity to its dark twin, Narben, both Made in the Cauldron? Is it a coincidence that the history of the Fae who originally took a stand against the Daglan has been rediscovered after being forgotten for millennia? Is it a coincidence that three Illyrian boys, born around the same time despite their long life spans, ended up growing and training in the same war-camp, forming an unbreakable unit the likes of which the world has never seen? Is it a coincidence that each has been inexplicably drawn to one of the once-human sisters since the beginning? Is it a coincidence that there are three sacred sister peaks in the land, barren because of the darkness tainting them, to match the three sisters? Is it a coincidence that the world seems poised on the brink of something that will send ripples across the cosmos? Is anything a coincidence?

[neverpathia]

I'm just assigning weapons to the voices and vessels because I am a fantasy nerd like that. [WARNING: LONG ASS POST]

(alternative title: watch nevvey lose his mind over random blades and not-blades, and lie about being esoteric for who-knows-how-long minutes straight. gets exponentially both longer and worse the more you read.)

(@/phospolipid-bilayer influenced too many of these things by accident thanks to their lobotomy corporation series thing going on)

(this is also mainly for my AU, I guess)

-- -- -- -- --

Hero - basic ass yee yee sword

Hunted - a kinda primitive cross between a mace and a spear? but it's really more like claws and teeth grafted to a sharpened stick. lord of the flies core and all.

okay i can also see him using a crossbow and bolts, or perhaps tribal darts. i don't really think he'd want to approach a potential threat up close. he'd prefer to shoot from beneath the concealments of foliage instead. singular fangs attached to splintered branches, whittled to straight implements of death, of defense. i kinda like this one more to be honest.

Beast/Den - no shit sherlock she already has pre-ordered weapons. claws. fangs. hack and slash and gore and tear.

Opportunist - switchblade. one that's small and easily concealed up his sleeve. the hilt is gilded with gold and embedded with emeralds because he's flashy like that. the thing's probably also soaked with some sort of venom for added inconvenience, though the blade is probably too small and thin by itself to actually be majorly dangerous.

(someone on discord suggested that he'd use a stiletto or cinquadea hidden up his boot instead and that's a pretty valid take, fuck that's cool as shit you brilliant brilliant fella, but i'm still kinda attached to my own take lol.)

Witch/Thorn - I mean she does canonically use her claws but I feel like I wanna lean more into the magic-user aspect of her. probably a sort of wand, that's also small and easily concealed up her sleeve like oppy's knife. greatest affinity with trees and roots and grass and the like. also easily smacked in someone's face and shoved down their throat or nose if needed. probably bladed at one end too, even if it does cut her a little when she's hiding it.

side note: she's definitely going to be amazing with poisons. would be able to pinpoint every single one of them, and she knows more specimens and symptoms than even the resident para(noid)medic. why? no reason. she's just a witch.

Wild - do I even need to. nerve root strangulation???

Skeptic - I mean he's a detective, so honestly?

OH. okay. good cop, I see you. cold harsh logic in the absence of the supernatural, I see you. LET HIM HAVE GUNS. specifically, revolvers, because I wanna stay loyal to the high fantasy aesthetics we have going on. he dual wields (something about covering every eventuality, blah blah).

(sigh now i'm getting an idea for a scene with stubborn, cheated, contrarian and broken playing russian roulette with skeptic's revolvers while the peepaw detective remains oblivious and wonders where the shit his guns went.)

Prisoner/Cage - GARROTE. GARROTE WIRE. YEAHHHHH BABY, ASPHYXIATION FOR THE WIN. like. she'd be a natural with the thing, she already strangles you with chains anyway. perhaps the thing is made of thin yet heavy chain-links with hooks at the ends, kinda like the chains in cage? a bit like a surujin, perhaps? maybe spiked? at this point i'm letting rule of cool drive all this.

although to be honest i'm also slightly enjoying the image of her using clinical instruments like a scalpel. she can share that with paranoid as a side thing, i guess.

or i can also see her using a weighted flail, because prisoner. god too many options

Drowned Grey - dunks you with water balloons and a super soaker. nah I'm just kidding, but I can see her using a sort of harpoon, perhaps?

at this point my brain is veering into Off Topic Land and proposing the headcanon that prisoner goes fishing. great. no thanks.

Smitten - for all his knight in shining armour rambling and shambling and garbling and warbling, fine. sword and shield. specifically, a grand broadsword and shield, both carved with very elaborate depictions of flowers and maidens and chivalry and the like. don't ask me how he's carrying both at the same time, each with one hand. he's probably freakishly strong, he's smitten after all.

Damsel/HEA - as damsel she's probably going to rely on smitten to protect her, but i like to think she picks something up after HEA. perhaps she gets a little rapier hidden up her skirts. plain and undecorated, unlike her opulent garments. sharp despite its small size. honestly i don't even think it'd be practical to get it out of there but i might also decide to redesign post-ending HEA for the sake of this thing. i do plan on redesigning the vessels anyway.

(also it took me this long to realise that technically she does have a weapon, and not a weapon, the weapon, the dinky little knife itself resting beneath her neck- nah. fuck it.)

I also love the idea of damsel with one of those crude little fairy godmother cartoon wands that's pretty much just a rod with a star on top. the one that's in all those transparent pngs and kindergarten textbooks. would be funny. wonder if she'd know how to actually cast with it, though? well, if it makes you happy.

Burned Grey - look, i absolutely adore the image of her just throwing around a flamethrower like there's no tomorrow. but i'm staying loyal to the high fantasy aesthetic so we sure as fuck can't have that. allow me to propose... yeah actually? i have no fucking idea. i'm going to google.

and one train of research and distractions later, i have been led to the handgonne which is pretty much a medieval flamethrower-esque kinda thingy. seems a little impractical. but hey, what with burning down both LQ and herself, which is sure to cause a LOT of inconvenience, the burned grey is all about impractical.

Stubborn - fists. do i even need to explain

Adversary - fists. do i even need to explain

okay but we do know that advy sort of has claws, but we don't really see her use them, though. and i like to think that stubborn attaches blades to his knuckles for maximum impact.

but in all fairness, when they don't use their fists, i like to think that they have matching sledgehammers. big and messy and violent. heavy. bloody. they love it.

Eye of the Needle - this is another one has who pre-ordered weapons free with her hands. claws. I'm not gonna bother. she probably retains the sledgehammer from advy though. or perhaps a gigantic battleaxe? don't know. probably has an entire arsenal because of how dang bloodthirsty she is.

Broken - would smack you upside the head with a bible while wailing and weeping. not funny, nevvey.

okay, he's probably the least combat-oriented of all the voices and I kinda see him as a sort of cleric? he's likely gonna be another magic-user like witch/thorn and paranoid. I can sorta see him wielding a staff like DnD-

WAIT. ALTAR KNIFE. ALTAR KNIFE. A FUCKING ATHAME. the thing's not even intended for genuine cutting, it's just there for ritual and channeling purposes. broken, I'm looking at you. PERFECT. and it's probably set in ivory and cracking porcelain and there's a bit of gold thread wrapping around it oh fuck yeah

Tower/Apotheosis - she would tell you that she doesn't need one, because her compelling voice is already enough. however, she is a girlfailure and you should never take her word for it.

I can low-key see her using a sort of scepter. something simple yet elegant carved from ceramic, radiating divine energy. yeah that's it. I don't really know. and she wouldn't stoop so low as to use a close-range bladed weapon, or anything that really uses a lot of physical effort at all. apothy's gonna need a HUGE one though

Fury - she can literally reduce you to subatomic particles. what need does she even have for a weapon? although I am SERIOUSLY digging the idea of her using a brutal bloody terrifying spiked club. way too large and way too many spines, perhaps ivory or bone. a bit of grisly membrane coating the material; a few fleshy tendrils travelling down its length. yeah. glances warily at body horror demon lady. would.

actually i can also see her using a meat cleaver because that would be kinda cute

Paranoid - FUCK YEAH I WAS WAITING FOR THIS ONE. staff. he wields a mage's quarterstaff. no question.

he definitely uses it for a ton of healing. the 'heart lungs liver nerves' mantra as a sorcerous incantation, fuck yeah. but paranoid is also really powerful and can probably use the same staff for minor transformative or conjuring spells.

now this one's probably been engraved all over with protective runes and symbols, to the point that you can barely even tell where one stroke ends and another begins. otherwise it's quite plain, but there's an orb at the top for better channelling. sometimes he uses it in conjunction with a grimoire.

it's also really handy for whacking annoyances upside the head as required.

side note: he uses a scalpel too. but he hates close-range, if he even needs to fight at all. he prefers to let hero or cold handle it while he plays support.

Nightmare/MOC - organ failure. why would i even need to elaborate.

well apparently i felt like elaborating anyway so i think she'd use...god, actually, this one is pretty hard.

OH, HOLD ON. Nightmare with oversized scissors/shears like a horror movie doll, all guro-lolita core. huh. that might be interesting. bonus points if the scissors are comically sharp. the handles are bone porcelain, smooth yet chipped, and painted with black-and-white patterns like her mask (so that I don't stray too far from the fantasy motif, because if i do, that would just completely break the rule of cool.)

Cold - well. phospo's (absolutely amazing beautiful splendid divine) cold wields a scythe and i am very extremely tempted to steal that concept from them. however, that would be plagiarism. and i am trying to avert plagiarism.

my original idea was always for cold to have a series of throwing knives and daggers like an assassin. i kinda see cold as someone who operates on stealth, shrouding himself in the shadows just as he shrouds his emotions. so he's just. throwing these things at you from out of fucking nowhere with deadly intent and precision. and he has excellent aim.

then again, this is probably really unoriginal but fuck cares

Spectre/PatD - does. a ghost. even need. a weapon?? how would a ghost even wield a weapon????

i'm gonna steal the flail from pris because she already has her nice little garotte and give it to spectre because it seems fitting enough. plus, i'm running out of ideas. sorry spectre.

although i like to think that patd gets a few avian features like talons and feathers in her hair, thanks to the switcheroo. so she can use those talons too, i suppose.

Wraith - OH. NOW THIS ONE. SPOOKY LITTLE SCYTHE, LIKE THE GRIM REAPER. no question. no question at all.

Cheated - so i apologise in advance because i am DEFINITELY committing plagiarism here. phospo, if you don't like me using your cheated-with-a-bayonet idea then i utter my sincerest regrets but. cheated. would use a bayonet.

i won't even talk about the fact that it's cool. but he'd also get it for the sake of maximizing his chances and for its versatility and, well, the fact that it is cool...and razor would still skewer him. not to mention it's not easy to use. so he'd probably attempt, and fumble, and attempt again, and just rage quit and smash the damn thing everywhere in combat like a berserker.

and it's probably just as fucked up and rusted and tattered as he is, but he still keeps it close, out of spite more than anything.

Razor - what are you talking about, she definitely isn't going to need a weapon, it's not like she's going to stab anyone anyway, it's definitely not like she's the weapon

discord said she'd use one of those disappearing trick knives. funny. nah, i think i'm giving that to...

Contrarian - you get the disappearing trick knife. and a nice rubber mallet. and a goose.

okay jokes aside i think he'd probably dual-wield as well, with weapons that have been specifically designed to be a pain in the ass for opponents.

personally i would give him a scimitar or khopesh because 1. i am OUT of ideas and 2. he's gonna have a lot of fun deflecting with the curved blades and using them to hook the opponents' weapons, then disarm them, then throw their blades out the window. then again, giving him a blade's a pretty bad idea. he'd throw it out the window himself-

wait. it's more like him to use a weapon that's not even designed to be a weapon. but that could be literally anything.

okay nevermind, contrarian is too hard to decide for. hell, he's a literal contrarian. fuck it, i won't be giving him a fixed weapon. he'd probably swap them out every two seconds and throw them out the window when he's done.

Stranger - oh shit. all five of her identities gotta have different weapons. this is the part where i'm getting lazy so i'll just steal from minecraft and go:

nondescript - bow

gentle - pickaxe

harsh - sword

evil - axe

depressed - spade

there we go. i suppose you can say she's multi-armed.

-- -- -- -- --

man this took way longer than i thought it would. what the fuck induced me to do this for like every single voice and vessel-? oh well it was worth it, especially now that i've given myself even more drawing and writing ideas especially for adventuring and fight scenes. yay.

[wickedholl0w]

An eternal bond.

Fandom: Baldurs Gate 3

Pairing: Astarion/F!Tav

Rating: 18+, mature, explict

Summary:

After Astarion's ascension, you had one last night together, but you didn't want to be transformed into one of your lover's vampire spawns, causing your relationship to end and after saving Baldurs Gate, you decide to live new adventures, but months after signs of a Pregnancy begins to emerge and you need your ex lover's help.

Notes:

Sooo, we all know that the ascended Astarion is a bad guy, okay? But after reading that he could reproduce, I came to this painful idea of what it would be like, in a subtle way.

warnings: mature content, unprotected sex, unexpected pregnancy, a lot of angst, fluffly?, blood play, bittersweet.

P.S: English is not my first language, I apologize in advance if I make any mistakes.

**********************************************************************

Baldurs Gate was safe and sound thanks to you, Faêrun was safe thanks to you and your group. You was a hero now, and even though you had dark choices on you journey you never stopped being one, and that's why you made the hardest choice of your life days before the final battle: ending everything with Astarion.

You loved him, without a doubt, you loved him so much that you felt it in her bones, but after he ascended... Everything changed, that Astarion who loved you so deeply and frantically had become the thing he said he hated, repulsed.

You even accepted at first that he would transform you, you spent one last night making love madly in each other's arms, but when the time came... When you read his mind, when you realized that you would be just another object in the midst of sugar-coated lies, he turned his back, ended everything and just kept minimal contact until the final battle.

You didn't stay long in Baldurs Gate, perhaps because you knew that Astarion's dark plans were now directed at the city, but also because you knew that he was right there in that dark castle in the upper part of the city. You got everything you could need for a journey, a new adventure alongside the owl bear cub and Scratchy.

The beginning was light, common, you passed through places where had already fought, villages being rebuilt, temples being rebuilt, it was good to see that, to see how life would now continue, but, you could see much more than Faêrun, so,  you left to a long journey through unknown lands, until something began to change.

The morning sickness began, dizziness, extreme discomfort and nausea, but the most aggravating thing was that now all the food had to be as raw as possible so that it pleased your taste, and the hunger seemed to never end and when you caught a small squirrel, cut his throat and drank his pure blood that your mind finally began to come to terms with what was happening.

Your cycle was actually late, but you ignored the chance of being pregnant, after all, Astarion was a vampire, even if you knew that vampires could reproduce if they were well satisfied... But he had taken a lot of your blood in your last night together.

Becoming aware of what was happening to you at that exact moment made you feel fear, despair, terror... And without thinking twice and with the light of the camp fire illuminating you, you grabbed a knife and were ready to stab yourself in the belly, you would end the existence of that being that was growing inside you and with yourself, if you needed to... But you couldn't.

Your hand wielding the knife began to shake, a tearing pain took your chest as memories with Astarion before his ascension took over your mind... His sweet voice, the kisses, the caresses, the way you loved each other for the first time that day in the clearing,  the day he admitted he loved you... The one in your mind was the father of the child now growing in your belly.

Defeated, you dropped the knife in tears, a painful and cruel cry, you placed both hands on your stomach and soon the two animal companions approached after scaring the entire scene. The owl bear cub and Scratchy cuddled together, an attempt to soothe that intense pain.

You ended up falling asleep next to the two of them and the next morning you need to started thinking about what you should do, how you should continue since was now pregnant with a dhampir, what would your diet be like so that both you and he were satisfied? How could you fight without worrying about the child? How would you raise him?

You didn't have the answers and so, for that reason alone, you decided to get to where you are, to the door of Astarion's huge palace, your child's father... You thought he should know about the child and that he could help. A foolish and innocent idea, you knew that might end up having a fight with him, or he would kill you, but for the sake of the little seed that blossomed in your womb, you would try.

When you enter the palace you see that some things have changed, but everything is still just cold, cold and terrifying like the last time you were here. You stops in the middle of the huge hall looking around, you doesn't see anything, doesn't see anyone... Did he already have vampire spawns?

“Astarion? “ you call and your animal companions join you closer, afraid.

“Well, well, well,” his voice echoes through the space like an echo leaving you on alert, you don't see him, but you know he's here. “Look who knocks on my door, the ungrateful one.”

“I didn't come to play your games.” you say discreetly, placing your left hand on your stomach under the dusty cloak that covers you.

“Then why did you come? Regreted?” he says and feels like he’s closer. “Well, it's a shame, my dear... I won't change you even if you beg me...”

Quicker than you can think, you turn back with a dagger in hand and place the blade at Astarion's throat who looks down at you, as if you were an insect to be crushed by the expensive boots he wears.

He gives a vile smile and your animals become agitated, growl and leave their feathers and fur up, and in an attack position.

“You look terrible,” he says mockingly.

He grabs your wrist tightly, making you moan in pain and pulls the blade away from his throat, you try to stop him, but he's strong, much stronger than the last time you saw him.

You let go of the dagger that falls to the floor, Scratchy barks and you look at the now useless weapon on the floor.

With an absurd speed, Astarion grabs your neck forcing you to look at him, you grab his wrist with your calloused hands and look into his eyes, widening yours, the air almost no longer reaches your lungs.

“That's very audacious of you,” he says. “What should I do with you?”

He brings his face closer to yours and all you can say without voice is please, in a way so low that only he himself could hear.

“Do you want me to have mercy? Why? To you ho turned your back on me?...” he got closer and you tried to breathe, however, he stopped squeezing your neck.

The blood-red eyes widen after his nostrils flare, his gaze is trembling, he raised eyebrows wrinkle the forehead. You take advantage of the moment and move away from him quickly, and he remains still and when you bend over, placing your hands on your knees and pulling the air forcefully into your lungs, your animals come to your side in an attempt to protect you.

“There's something different,”  Astarion says and you look at him, still trying to catch your breath. “You...”

“I'm pregnant,”  you say, still panting and Astarion's well-shaped lips part. “And yes... It's yours.”

His eyes dance over you, looking you up and down.

“Mine?...”

“Yes” you say, resuming your posture. “And that's why I'm here. I need help to know how to deal with... Him, or her.”

Astarion says nothing, not a single word, he remains motionless, looking lost, completely in shock.

“Just tell me what I should do, what I should eat and how I will raise it...”

As you speak he approaches, eyes glazed over the area of your belly.

“That's all I...” you see him kneeling in front of you. “Astarion?”

The ascended vampire opens your cloak, taking in the view of your belly. He takes his cold hands to you tunic and opens the buttons until your swollen belly is visible.

“My gods” he says in a whisper and puts both hands there.

Your body shivers with the cold and familiar touch, but you is also alert, rigid.

Astarion then touches the side of his face there, making you start slightly, you doesn't know how to react, but you looks at him, sees the curls of white hair against your skin, feels the skin of his face against you warm belly and he touches his face against there.

“I can hear…” he says, smiling broadly. “I can hear him.”

You give a shaky smile and take your hands to Astarion's hair, stroking him and he gives a long sigh, closing his eyes.

“I need help,”  you say and he turns his face away from you, looking at you. “I'm getting sick, weak... I don't know what to do.”

He looks at your belly again and brushes his fingertips over it and then gives a warm, long kiss.

“I will do whatever I can for our heir” he says with his lips still close to your stomach and turns his gaze upwards, to you.

You nod, you know that he doesn't see you now as anything more than an incubator, so you have to be quick, smart, you need his knowledge and then disappear.

**

Astarion placed you and your two animal companions in his room, then said that he would do some research and that at that time you could enjoy the luxury of his huge room fit for a king. The solid and dark colors beautified the environment along with the red, the room itself was huge, you could get lost in there. The four-poster bed made of fine red fabrics is gigantic and takes center stage in the dark room lit by torches and candles.

Your animals soon took over a space for themselves, Scratchy lay down on a sofa and the owl bear cub lay down on a pile of fat pillows with thin pillowcases, with fabrics that would no longer be so immaculate.

You explore the room, go to the closet where an exuberant collection of exquisite clothes on golden racks and a huge mirror takes up an entire wall, even though he can't see himself, he liked mirrors, that hadn't changed.

The next room you entered was a luxurious bathroom made of red marble, with a huge bathtub with waterfalls coming down from the mouths of gargoyles. You know you doesn't exactly smell like flowers, so you find the valve to open and fill the bathtub and while you wait for the warm water to fill the container, you find bath salts and scented oils, throw them into the water, which then foams.

You remove your worn boots and dirty clothes, become completely naked and let go of your long hair making it fall over your shoulders and back, your own image reflected in the mirror in front of you draws attention, you had not yet seen your early pregnancy body, and when you sees your once flat and defined swollen belly your blinks your eyes a few times and a silly smile takes over your lips to say the least. You approach the mirror and when you get closer, you look enchanted and bring your hands there, starting to caress the skin and letting out a low laugh, biting your lower lip. It's perfect.

After admiring yourself  you go to the three red marble steps that lead to the bathtub and entering the warm water making your skin crawl, without delay you sit down and then hold your breath dipping your head, wetting your hair. Then you begins to wash your body with the help of a natural loofah and scented soap, your washes your hair and after rinsing you decides to stay in the bathtub for a little longer, leaning your back against the edge resting your head and placing your hands your his belly, in a few seconds, sleep weighs down your eyelids and they close, allowing you to sleep after so many sleepless days and nights.

**

Little by little your eyes open, you feels your skin wrinkled, you must have slept a lot and when you looks to the side sees Astarion sitting on the edge of the bathtub looking at you, which makes you startle.

“Fuck!”  you scream. “What are you doing here?!”

“What rude manners, is this how you intend to raise our child?”  he says with a charming smile. “And, I finished my studies, I came to tell you what we can do and I didn't find you in the room... When I saw you here, I didn't want to wake you up.”

“And you decided it was better to stare at me sleeping like a maniac”  you say, adjusting yourself in the bubble bath, leaving part of your breasts visible, and Astarion looks directly at them.

“Yes,” he responds, looking up at you. “You slept all afternoon, my dear, I had time to finish my research and also recruit people to take care of you.”

“What?”  you ask and Astarion gets up, going to a fluffy white towel and opening it, keeping it open in front of him.

“As I'm a vampire I don't have the supplements you need” he says and motions for a towel, motions for you to get out of the bathtub and with a long sigh you obey.

He looks you up and down as you stand on the edge of the bathtub, the water and foam running down your skin, you go down the steps to the floor and he approaches you, wrapping the towel around you, drying you.

“So, what did you do?”  you ask as he grabs another towel and starts drying you long hair.

“You'll see” he says, moving away and taking an elegant red silk robe with gold embroidery and putting it on you, but you notice that he hesitates when he reaches your bare shoulder and you notice that his face gets closer.

“No,” you say coldly.

Astarion doesn't answer, he just finishes placing the robe over your shoulders and turns you towards him, closes the piece and ties the silk straps, looks at you belly marked in the fabric and runs the back of his fingers over it.

“Come on” he says, walking away and you follow him back to the room.

You are surprised to see a medium-sized table served with delicious food and next to that table a half-elf whose face is already showing signs of age, he is wearing cook's clothes and next to him are two women, a tiefiling with pink skin and beautiful horns and a dwarf.

“Meet the team that will help you,” he says. “Our cook and his assistants have already cooked a beautiful meal, following the menu I chose.”

“We hope you like it, my Lady” says the cook and you shake your head.

“You don't need to call me Lady” you say and Astarion looks at you with disdain.

“Oh!” he says and you look at him. “They will also provide the feeding of your two irrational friends” you look at Scratchy and the owl bear cub who is already eating in their bowls, which to your surprise are made of silver.

“Thank you” you say and Astarion looks at the three now servants.

“Dismissed,” he says and the three bow to him as they leave the room. “Well, my dear, sit down.”

You go to a chair, pull it out and sit at the table, the food looks good, it doesn't look poisoned. Astarion sits at the other end of the table and settles into the chair.

“Do you want to eat first and talk later?” he asks.

“I can do both” you say, starting to serve yourself and he watches you.

“Well, I've read lots and lots of them in my vast library about dhampirs,” he says. “The answer to your weakness is that our little devil is literally sucking you, even though he doesn't even have a mouth yet,” you look at him while eating the rare, almost raw meat. “And I highly doubt you was taking blood to help his needs.”

“I ate raw meat and killed a squirrel,” you say. “I drank his blood.”

Astarion laughs briefly.

“Honey, this will never be enough for our little one,” he says. “You need blood, real blood.”

You swallow the food, which is undoubtedly delicious.

“Blood of rational beings, you say?”

“Humans, elves, drows, tiefilings, dwarves, half-elves...” he says. “Any of them to satisfy my heir's hunger...”

“He won't be your heir”  you say, making him frown instantly. “All I need is to know how he and me are going to be okay at this stage, that's all, and that's why I'm here, because you'd be the only one who could help us...”

“So, if it weren't for that, I would never have known that you would be expecting my child?”

You stay silent and look at the food on your plate.

“And do you believe that I will allow you to take him from me?”

“You don't need to allow anything,” you say, standing up. “You may have given your seed, but you are not the father of my child.

Astarion punches the table causing the dishes and food to jump due to the shock, the action caught the attention of Scratch and the cub, but they remained in the same place.

“You come knocking on my door, you cry out for my help and say this?” he also stands up.

“My son's father is Astarion, yes, but not you.”

You look at him with resentment, remorse and the vampire's gaze disappears, the enraged look on his beautiful face changes to one of painful surprise.

“But that's still me...”

“No, it’s not still you,” you say with a choked voice, eyes burning. “The man I fell in love with, the one I gave everything I had, is not you... It is not the being who became what he hated and disgusted most...”

“Don't you dare...”

“What?” you start to walk around the table. “Don't I dare what? Astarion? To say that you have become exactly like Cazador?”

In the blink of an eye he was in front of you, eyes glowing red, pure anger and fury aimed at you, teeth and canines exposed, but you weren't shaken, you didn't lower your head as you stared at him.

“If you think I'm going to allow you to raise my son, you're very mistaken,” you say. “I don't want you to corrupt him with your cruelty and I know very well, Astarion, that the first opportunity you have to kill me and be with him, you will do it...”

The fury in the bright red eyes had faded and the expression on the beautiful face changed.

“I would never do that to you” he says softly.

“I don't believe a word you say,” you retort and it seems like you hit a stake in the vampire's chest. “I should never have believed you”  tears begin to fall down your face. “I should never have loved you...”

An expression of pain invaded Astarion's features.

“Do you think everything we had was a lie?” he asks.

 “You tried to manipulate me from the beginning!” you say.

“And my plan failed” he says. “I may have committed sins against you, but the feelings I had were true...”

“Yes, they were, but they aren't anymore,” you say. “If you loved me, you wouldn't have turned your back on me when I didn't agree to transform.”

“And you abandoned me too” he says. “I waited for you.”

“After everything you told me, did you really think I would come back?”

“I had my hopes” he says with a wide, shaky smile. “That you would walk through my door and beg to be transformed, to stay with me, to be my consort, to take everything with our power...”

“Our power never existed,” you say. “You wanted me as a possession, not as an equal, as a companion. So don't blame me for wanting a different life for our son”

A low, disbelieving laugh leaves Astarion's lips, he looks at your belly and an expression of disgust appears on his features.

“Well, good luck, you'll need it” he says, slowly moving away and then disappearing into the darkness of the room.

Your heart is heavy in your chest, broken, shattered again and all you can do is cry, holding one hand over your mouth while the other rests on your belly. Gods, why did you still have to love him? Why didn't you remove that love from your heart? Why did you have to create an eternal bond between them?

**

You're lying in bed, your animals sleep together on the pile of pillows, but you can't sleep, even though you have all the comfort of the huge bed hugging you, your eyes don't feel heavy, your mind doesn't go blank, the discussion from earlier returning every minute reminding you that it had been a bad idea to seek Astarion's help.

“Can't sleep?” his voice echoes through the room and you sit on the bed looking around.

“I thought we were done with our conversation” you say and he emerges from a dark corner into the candlelight, in his hands a golden jar and a large crystal glass.

“We're done, I came for... Your son,” he says, approaching. “You've already fed, now it's his turn.”

You look at the jar with wide eyes, there can only be one specific thing in there and the thought turns your stomach.

“Remember that you need to drink it” Astarion says, filling the crystal cup with the red liquid, with the essence of a life that had certainly been taken.

“Whose blood is this?” you ask as he offers you the glass.

“I don't know, my spawn who went to get it,” he answers without the slightest remorse or regret. “Now come on, drink.”

You swallow the nausea and disgust, take the glass with both hands and place it in front of your mouth, the pungent and iron smell of blood invades your nostrils and quickly the disgust turns into desire. You turn the cup into your mouth and begin to drink the blood, long and slow sips, your body seems to light up and something like internal tickling begins in your womb. You finish the cup and looks at Astarion, who arches his pale eyebrow.

“Give me that jar” you say, handing him the cup and he hands you the jar.

You begin to drink the blood straight from the jar, taking desperate sips and sips, turning the object over as if more blood would fit into your mouth, but the liquid starts to run down the corners of your mouth, down your chin, neck and now your chest, making dirty the partially open robe that left the curve of your breasts exposed.

When the blood in the jar runs out, you can still send your hand inside, scraping the walls, collecting more of the liquid and bringing your hand to your mouth, licking your fingers and palm. You hear a laugh coming from Astarion and look at him.

“What a mess, my dear” he says, approaching, placing one knee on the mattress and removing the jar from your hands, and even though you tries to take it back, he doesn't allow it, placing it next to the glass on the bedside table.

“He wants more” you say in a voice that doesn't sound like yours, as if another hungry personality took over your body.

“But it could hurt his mother's stomach” says Astarion, taking your face in his hands and you look at him. “Ah... Look at those pupils, so dilated...” he brushes his thumbs over the blood that smears his face. “You look even more beautiful covered in blood.”

You part your blood-stained lips and he bends down there, licking your mouth.

“But you made a beautiful mess” he says, whispering and smiling broadly.

Your heart flutters in your chest, having him so close... The desire that grows for him from between your legs to your bones and mind is taking you over.

“Should I clean it?” He asks, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

“Yes...” you respond softly, as if afraid of him hearing.

Astarion gives you a wide smile and gives a light kiss on the corner of your mouth, and goes down to your neck where his cold tongue begins to glide over the dripping blood, licking every millimeter and going down to the chest, opening the robe and revealing your body.

The vampire's greedy tongue slides along the path of a drop of blood that stopped just before your navel and when it gets there he places a kiss on your belly and lets out a low laugh, you know it's because he smelled your arousal, your excitement.

“Sweetheart” he says and looks up at you. “You want something more than blood, I suppose?”

He stands up and you swallow hard, it's impossible to lie about your desire at the moment.

“And do you want something similar?” you ask, tilting your head to the side and resting your body weight on your hands on the mattress.

Astarion smiles wide, his red eyes shining full of lust and passion.

“I dreamed of the day I would be inside you again” he says, taking off his immaculate tunic and revealing his beautiful defined pale body, then the pants followed the same path as the first piece and now he was naked, beautifully naked and with his erection It already lasts.

He massages the length of his member while you finish removing your robe and position yourself on the bed. Astarion gets on the mattress and crawls between your open legs, he bends down and kisses your swollen belly.

“First of all, I want you to know that nothing we talked about has changed,” you say and he hesitates for a moment. “I will still leave after my strength is recovered.”

“I know,” he says, placing a kiss on your belly again and moving down to the middle of your legs. “Now I just want you.

He tells you to then lick the entire length of your wet sex, making you moan a sigh, it would have been dangerous to leave someone with such sharp fangs close by, but Astarion knew how to give you pleasure without hurting you, how to suck you, licking you without causing even a cut and at the moment you had to admit... The feeling of his mouth, cold, against your hot and wet sex was unique and you missed the feeling.

You moan softly and take one of your hands to the pale curls of his hair, grabbing the strands and pulling as he pleasures you, he sucks your clit and licks your sex, penetrates you with his tongue, fucking you with it and you roll your waist against his mouth.

Pleasure takes over your entire body, hot sweat begins to flow through your pores and drip onto your skin, the peak is near, you can feel your entire body giving you warnings, but your bed partner liked to tease you, make you beg for orgasm and he soon moved his mouth away from your sex, leaving you frustrated to say the least, but seeing him looking at you from between your legs, his curls falling over his forehead, his eyes full of desire, his mouth smeared with your wetness and swollen... He was so beautiful.

You bring your hand to his face, caressing it there and Astarion closes his eyes, kneels between your legs and holds your hand against his face, rubbing it against the palm and placing a kiss there.

“How I missed your taste,” he says between kisses. “Your smell... The touch of your skin.”

He opens his red eyes and looks at you guiltily.

“I miss you too” you say with tears filling your eyes.

Yes, you miss him, but you won't be able to be with him and you both know that.

Astarion gives a brief nasal laugh and leans over you, supporting the weight of his body on his hands and bends down to your mouth, giving you a kiss, the taste is irony due to the blood you both tasted just now, but it's his kiss, his tongue slowly dancing against yours, in no hurry, with no end in sight, deep and full of confused and troubled feelings on both of your sides, which makes the tears contained in your eyes flow down to the pillow below your head.

You break the kiss by taking your hands to his back, you feel the scars against your fingers and he tenses his back slightly, but he doesn't order you to move them away, he just puts your forehead against his while he takes one of his hands to his hard penis, positioning it in your soaked entrance and slowly penetrated, causing an expression of pleasure to appear on your face.

He kisses you again as he starts to move slowly and deeply, he doesn't take his mouth away from yours, he just holds your chin with his hand as he increases the pace of his thrusts, but you almost can't breathe, so you move your lips away from his and the hugs him, keeping your gaze against his, your noses brushing with each thrust. You intertwine his hips with your legs, a signal to go faster, harder, he knows how to read you completely and obeys the silent request.

You moan louder and louder, your nails dig into the skin of his back, the sound of your sweaty skin slapping against each other fills the entire huge room as do your moans and brief screams of pleasure. He holds your face, turning it to the side and places his mouth against there, teeth exposed, he is thirsty to bite you, but you know he won't do it without your permission.

His name comes out in a moaning scream through your lips as the pleasure becomes more intense, making you arch your back off the mattress, bringing your body closer against his. Astarion takes the opportunity, passing his arms under your back and gets on his knees, pulling you against him, making you sit on him. You hold his sweaty face between your hands and kiss him again as you begin to roll over his lap with him fully inside you.

His cold hands slide down your sweaty back and between the strands of your long hair that stick to the sweat, they go down to your ass, squeezing it hard and he gives you a hard slap that makes you moan against his mouth and increase his pace.

Stars begin to appear in front of your vision, tremors begin to take over your bones and muscles and the orgasm arrives, simple but powerful and deep, causing your vision to go completely white as you moan and scream his name as he sinks his face against your chest holding you tightly against him as your inner walls contract tightly against his cock that spends his semen inside you.

Slowly, Astarion lays you on the bed even with you clinging to him with him still inside you. He kisses your hot, flushed face, your body is completely limp, you can't think about moving, all you can do is take your hands to his face and look into his red eyes. The vampire's white curls fall over his forehead and he gives a small smile.

He withdraws from inside you and lies down next to you, he supports the weight of his body on one elbow while he admires you in silence, his free hand goes to your face and his fingers stroke it with affection and then that same hand goes down to your belly and rests there, his gaze seems dull when he says:

“Do what you think is the best for him.”

You give a small, tired smile and lift the back of your fingers from his face and Astarion looks at you, puts a kiss on your fingers and in that moment you can see that there could still be that same Astarion you fell in love with, even if very deep down of this ascended and cruel vampire, your love was locked there.

**

She left as soon as her strength was recovered, without saying a single word, without looking back, she left while Astarion was busy with his new spawns, all that was left in the room were some feathers from the owlbear cub and the smell of the mother of his son... From the one who was the first and only person he cared about in 200 years of existence.

Astarion didn't bother going after her, no, he wouldn't, he wouldn't crawl begging for that being to return with his heir, she had left and it was already done, now, he busied himself with his plan to put Baldrus Gate under her power, creating his legion of offspring who blindly obeyed his commands, they would take that city and soon he would take all of Faêrun, so far everything was going well after two years of execution, it was not long before he sat on his throne and gave orders to his dark legion of the night .

However, something made him change his focus... His most obedient, most promising spawn, had been sent on a mission and that mission was to find the whereabouts of his son's mother and she had been found. Just the information should have been enough, knowing that his heir was well, enough... But an urgency to at least see his face took over his being and he left for the remote place in Faêrun.

A clearing in the middle of the forest, green and flowering grass, a simple house with a thatched roof from which smoke came out of the chimney, some farmed animals in enclosures.

Hidden in the shadows of the forest, Astarion watches the little boy with curly white hair playing in the mud puddles with Scratch and the now almost adult owlbear on his heels. The boy looked like him, but he wasn't pale, his skin was like his mother's and his eyes... His eyes weren't red.

The little one plays and laughs with the dog, the small canines are evident as he laughs while lying in the mud... In the mud, it is outrageous that his heir is having so much fun covered in mud with two pathetic animals playing with him.

"Astarion!" her voice echoes across the clearing and he becomes alert.

How would she know he was there?

He sees her leaving the house, wearing a simple peasant dress with a dirty apron over it, her long hair tied into a braid that fell over her shoulder. She stops in front of the house, hands on her hips and stern gaze looking at her heir.

“You two had to keep an eye on him, not make him dirty!” she says, walking towards her son who laughs, laying down in the mud.

When she approaches, his dead heart appears to tighten in his chest, she is even more beautiful than the day he lost her.

“Mud, mommy!” the boy says and she smiles widely and crouches down to him.

“Yes, I saw it, dear,” she says. “But it's lunch time, so let's take a bath before eating,” the boy pouts and crosses his little arms over his chest. She laughs and takes him in her arms even though he is getting mud and kisses him on the face, making the little boy laugh. “Without making a face, Astarion!”

Surprise takes Astarion at that moment, she had named the boy after him.

She walks back to the house followed by the two animals and Astarion's legs move on their own trying to follow her, making him come out of hiding. She stops and then turns partially towards him as Astarion, her son, tries to jump from her arms to the owlbear.

The Vampire Lord has no reaction, he can't move, a hand tries to reach out to her and the boy, but he retreats. He looks at her with pain, regret and she seems to understand, she also feels it when she sees him.

Astarion looks once again at his son stuck to the feathers of the owl bear, swallows hard and looks at the boy's mother one last time, and this time his look wanted to say something before returning to the shadows of the forest.

I love you.

Part 2 👇

[iamnotshazam]

TES III Morrowind post -

A Nerevarine that, for all their humility, does not escape the power of the Heart. They wielded the Tools. They touched it even closer than the Tribunal or Dagoth Ur ever did, as the Nerevarine removed the Dwemer spell barrier channeling the power through the Tools. The Heart of the world, that was made to satisfy the other, that laughed at destruction and loved existence too well to cease. The same Heart that changed the spirit of Voryn Dagoth into Dagoth Ur merely by proximity.

A Nerevarine that chooses to not become a god. Not because Vivec never revealed the technique, nor because Indoril Nerevar chose not to in the past, nor because Azura is watching. But because they see the wreckage it made of people that might have once been true friends, Nerevar and House Dagoth and the Tribunal, and how the blessings the Tribunal thought eternal were, in the end, as impermanent as their underlying mortality. The Heart and its power was not theirs, but the world's.

A Nerevarine that touches the Heart, twice-insulated by Dwemer gauntlet holding knife and hammer, cutting at the pericardic seal on its overflowing power. And a Heart that "sees" a little mortal creature who chooses to accept the struggle given from their shared creator, Lorkhan. The Heart does not have a will of its own, but it is made to satisfy the other.

The Nerevarine changes. Perhaps it's the echo of dying near the Heart in a past life, perhaps it's because they chose to follow what others tried to force into a destiny, perhaps it's dumb luck. Mortals cannot stop change. Not even ageless mortals pretending to be gods, nor thrice-loyal stewards become devils, nor a hero healed of the divine disease and given accidental agelessness. The Nerevarine changes.

Are they Nerevar, or did they become a Nerevarine? Were they tricked, or have they tricked everyone else? Is this Nerevar a true rebirth, a reincarnation through sympathetic Azura reborn unaware? But would that also not leave them as processed through another's will as Trinimac was to become Malacath? Or would that be Arkay of death and birth, or even Akatosh of time, who ate and changed them? Does it even matter? It seems not to, right up until they are standing next to a power that makes death of immortals and eternal life of mortals. A known aid to Mantling. Hell of a time, when the Sharmat is breathing down your neck, to start remembering the trusting face of Voryn Dagoth. Or are the memories like dreams, and the Nerevarine has been sleeping this whole time?

The Nerevarine awakens, and changes.

Maybe now they always hear their heart and the hearts of others, beating away. Or they feel the current location and status of the Heart, locked away in magma flows and safe from tampering. Maybe they can change swiftly between Chimer and Dunmer, and Azura smiles and does not say if it's her power or their own. Or they can change between Mer and Man, or even Beast. Maybe it's only between their reborn shape, whatever species it may be, and that of Indoril Nerevar.

Whenever they look at the Imperial merging of Akatosh and Shor in tapestry or stained-glass window, the back of their skull aches and their heart feels ready to beat out of their chest. Sometimes they feel stabbing pains through the chest and their feet go numb and their face feels slack. The robe brushing their skin, the candle-smoke wafting into their nose, the chanting words pouring out of their mouth: it all feels like betrayal. Other times they feel ready to break into eight pieces, or like they might reach into their enemy's chest and pull out the heart without breaking skin.

(They tell none of this to Vivec when they return, or Almalexia when ensnared into her new scheme. They are surrounded by people in these cities named after gods who do not deserve it, people celebrating the defeat of Dagoth Ur and the return of Nerevar. Which the Tribunal now says they always knew was coming, but had to play the part.

And the Nerevarine wonders why they find themselves wanting to ask Sotha Sil for advice, when he is the enemy, and might even have been the first traitor of the three. Then they come upon his mechanical corpse, and before they realize the full implications, they think, Ah. Ayem went after the least resolute, the most likely to help me . . . Wait. Oh shit-)

Maybe they can feel where - although it's more like when, but sideways - time almost broke again, in the heart chamber. Was that the second time they were in there, if counting past lives, or merely the first? They can feel a . . . a something, a somewhen, a different time in which Vehk, Seht, and Ayem were gods from the beginning, or the Dwemer properly ascended, or the Nords overran Resdayn, or Nerevar believed Voryn and together they killed his teacher, his friend, his wife-

Time flows and they can sense the eyes of the gods looking at them through the veil. Either they go crazy and scream at them all like the Whitestrake did, or they choose - choose, again and again - to continue acting of their own power and volition. It's all a mortal can do.

[dreaming-of-lu]

Continuation to this ask

CW: Self-deprecation (in Sky’s part)

Part 1

Part 2 of 3 (Warriors, Four, Sky)

Warriors

The captain usually kept his head high on his shoulders, never once drooping or faltering. He was a proud man, sometimes occasionally getting in over his head, but it was inevitable since he was just like the other men who all shared the same namesake and wielded the triforce of courage on the back of their hands. Brothers in arms that he admired for their strength in places he lacked, which they made up for.

Chosen hero or not, he was still a Hylian; there were days when he didn't want to listen to others. Consistently, he wanted to not exist as the captain and be a stranger to all so he could breathe. There were regrets, deep ones indeed. Ones that scarred harshly, but were invisible to the eyes.

"Ya know," a form blocked his view of the sun, "looking directly into the sun for too long can destroy your retina." “Oh?” he blinked away the dryness that took place, splotches of colors danced in his vision; his voice limp, “I hope so.” “...Hey, what’s wrong?” The frown was evident in their voice, making him wince lightly at the worried tone. He shifts in his spot, avoiding the question as he faintly picks at the scar on his left arm. Warriors jolt when they softly grabbed his hand, pulling it away slowly and carefully that made him huff at the gentleness they gave him. He kept avoiding their eyes, not once looking in their direction, “Don’t wanna talk about it...please,” he muttered.

“You don’t have to at all; want me to leave?”

“No,” he swallowed thickly, “stay here with me?”

“Of course, darling.”

Sky

“I honestly don’t want to be here right now,” Sky looked up from his carving at the sudden proclamation that left your lips. His brows furrowed when you didn’t say anything else after that; he never thought words like that would ever leave your lips, it sort of scared him a little and he felt a cinch in his chest. You were, well, not new that’s for sure to him, but to the others, you were new to the group.

He knew you all too well on the back of his hand, your likes and dislikes. Your dreams and hopes. He knew it all and he cherish them as much as he cherished you. Though, seeing you like this and hearing you sound so...broken, made his lip quiver.

“Why...why’s that?” He asked softly, keeping his voice calm to hide the wavering in it.

You weakly shrugged your shoulders, “Just felt like it. I could be too much in my head right now or hell, overthinking a bunch of dumb shit I said in the past. Ma’s probably pissed at me right now, deeming with the words that she said in the letter to me. Don’t get me wrong, I love being with you guys and all, but there’s only so much shit I can handle at this point and- look at me, complaining about this to you.”

You covered your face with your hands, a helpless watery laugh left you, “I’m fucking pathetic, aren’t I?”

Sky sets the carving and knife aside; settling his body down next to you while taking his sailcloth and putting it over you. His hand ran through your hair as he struggled to keep himself in check for you,

“You aren’t pathetic at all. You’re so strong whether you realize it or not. I get how you feel in a sense; it’s okay to feel, you know? It’s okay to cry. I- We don’t expect you to carry the entire world on your shoulders alone that’s what we’re here for.” “But it’s not fair to co-” “I’m going to stop you right there,” Sky interrupts you, “you are human. Your feelings are valid.”

He breathed in through his nose and slowly exhaled out his mouth, “I don’t expect you to be a hero at all, you know? You’re such a talented, beautiful and kind soul that I’ve ever met in my life. I love hearing the stories you paint to us, I love the songs you sing that I never heard of before. I love how you feel and- and just being honest to us while lending an ear. You don’t give yourself a lot credit than you realize.”

It’s silent between you, save for the chirping of birds and the running of water nearby. You piped up,

“Sky?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’re such a sweetheart.” “So are you.”

Four

Four usually wouldn’t share his mind with anybody within the chain, he kept more so to himself. While yes, he shared ideas or theories with the others, the rest? Hidden. Locked under key and away from sight. Though when it came to you? It’s a dam spilling over; you don’t got to understand what he’s saying, just listening is enough to make him goop.

He could ramble all about the different metals and hijinks that exist all day to you if given the chance. He would flush slightly under your gaze and attention that stayed on him as he continued to shoot off thoughts to you. He always wanted it on him; selfish a bit? You could say that. Yet, why did he curl today under your sight on him? 

He tried so hard to avoid you, not once even glancing or speaking in your direction; just curt answers to others and putting up a wall to distance himself from the group. He was tired, not willing to mentally argue with himself as flashes of dark memories rose in numbers in his mind. There was bags under his eyes that’s for sure from the sleepless nights, the slump in his shoulders were more visible than ever, and for this, he failed at dodging you.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” you sounded timid when you settled next to him.

“...There are none,” he shrugged.

“Oh...i-is it something I’ve done or have said that might’ve upset you?” Goddesses, you were picking at your fingers; a nervous tick he figured out, but seeing you be anxious at the thought of him being upset at you? It didn’t sit right with his stomach.

“Goodness, no!” he splutters, “it’s just...been a rough time, I guess.”

You slumped in relief, “how bad?”

“...bad enough,” he mutters.

“Do you want me to give you some alone time?”

“No, just you is enough for me.”

[anti-kawaii-daily]

Anti-Kawaii Character Archetypes You'll Probably See Here Part 1

Yandere: Arguably the most well-known "Anti-Kawaii" character archetype in pop culture. The word "Yandere" is a portmanteau of the Japanese word yanderu or 病やんでる in the original kanji (which is another way to say that you or someone is mentally sick, not to be confused with Menhera), and the word deredere or デレデレ in it's original kanji (this word basically means "lovey-dovey").

This archetype consists of character who when they fall in love with someone, they fall harder than most normal people. By that I mean that they obsess over their love interest in ways ranging from mildly unhealthy all the way to destructive to themselves or others. The most known type of Yandere is the type that hurts or kills anyone who may try to "take" the love interest away from them, but Yandere behavior is more of a spectrum than a one-size-fits-all type of situation. And despite most people associating this archetype with unstable, knife wielding, boy-crazy girls, Yanderes can be of any gender identity and sexual orientation.

Here is an example of some characters that fit into this archetype:

Left to Right: Yuno Gasai (Future Diary), Kotonoha Katsura (School Days), Himiko Toga (My Hero Academia), Alex Forrest (Fatal Attraction) and Eobard Thawne/Reverse Flash (DC Comics)

Yangire: Other than the Yandere archetype mentioned above, whenever someone thinks of crazy and violent characters in Japanese media, they tend to refer to the Yangire archetype. The word is a portmanteau of the word yanderu or 病やんでる but unlike the archetype above, the "dere" is replaced by the word gire or ギレ in kanji and gire basically means "to snap".

This archetype consists of a character who may be a decent or maybe even a nice person, but if they were to snap in a mental breakdown, then they get very aggressive, violent, dangerous and unpredictable. There are commonly two types of Yangire characters: they either A, have a split personality or any other mental illness that makes them act violent; or B, they just happen to be cruel and deranged people. But occasionally there are characters who are a mix of both. What truly separates Yangires from Yanderes is that Yanderes tend to do messed up things out of love, while Yangires do messed up things because they can.

Here is an example of some characters that fit into this archetype:

Left to right: Kurumi Tokisaki (Date A Live), Rena Ryugu (Higurashi: When They Cry), Yoshikage Kira (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure), The Postal Dude (Postal series), and Agatha Trunchbull (Matilda)

Dorodere: A lesser known "Anti-Kawaii" character archetype, this term's name is a mixture of the word "dorodoro" (ドロドロ in the original kanji) which translates as muddled or confused, and the word deredere or デレデレ.

This is a character archetype that refers to characters who are mentally disturbed, or has lots of bad feelings (such as grudges or resentment) towards people like their loved ones, but they hide all of that behind a sweet and friendly façade. In western countries this archetype was misunderstood as describing a character that has violent thoughts but who doesn't act on them, but Doroderes while mostly malicious, they can reach a level of violence similar to a Yandere or a Yangire once their true nature is revealed. In most cases there are two types of a Dorodere; type 1 Doroderes have the character genuinely liking their love interest/best friend and type 2 Doroderes who feel a mixture of love and hatred. What separates these two types is that with type 1 characters their "doro" side is hidden by the "dere" side, while with type 2 characters their "doro" side has a small amount of "dere" in there.

Here is an example of some characters that fit into this archetype:

Left to right: Luca Trulyworth (Air Tonelico), Nagito Komaeda (Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair), Makima (Chainsaw Man), Billy Loomis (Scream) and The Other Mother (Coraline)

[merymoonbeam]

Shadow and seer-Fionn-Elriel

Hofas spoilers

This is just a speculation but in hofas Silene gave this information.

My mother eventually trusted only Helena and myself to seek the truth. She knew we could be of great use to her, because we bore the shadows as well as starlight.

Helena and Silene both have shadow and starlight power.

Theia= starborn

So they got the starlight power from Theia. They must have gotten their shadow power from Fionn then? Bc he is their father.

So this made me think...in mythology fionn is a seer.

Fionn mac Cumhaill often anglicized Finn McCool or MacCool, is a hero in Irish mythology, as well as in later Scottish and Manx folklore. He is the leader of the Fianna bands of young roving hunter-warriors, as well as being a seer and poet. He is said to have a magic thumb that bestows him with great wisdom. He is often depicted hunting with his hounds Bran and Sceólang, and fighting with his spear and sword. The tales of Fionn and his fiann form the Fianna Cycle or Fenian Cycle (an Fhiannaíocht), much of it narrated by Fionn's son, the poet Oisín.

So what if...fionn in acotar was also a seer? What if that's how elain and azriel are also connected?

Bc that would mean...

Fionn: a seer and shadow powers

Elain: a seer

Azriel: shadowsinger

Is that how they are connected? Is that how elain could use the tt? 👀👀

Bc we know tt and gwydion are twin to each other. And Gwydion was Fionn's sword. Tt was his friend's—Enalius.

And in acowar elain used tt. Maybe bc that's the reason why. Maybe being a seer has some kind of connection to it. Just like being a starborn is connected to wielding the gwydion and its powers.

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

And we know from Bryce that knife has some kind of shadow powers.

Bryce threw her power into the Starsword, light ripping through the black blade, willing it to tear this fucking monster apart—She willed it into Truth-Teller, and shadows flowed—

So that's all.

[justheretoposttrash]

day 12 of the final endhawks: endhawkspocalypse:

the adhd side of my brain has taken over and decided that consistency can No Longer Happen, so i've decided to make this my last day of posting, at least when it comes to sequential daily posts. i'm still unhinged-ly working on endhawks-related things for the foreseeable future though, and always happy to talk about the ship!

here's a final hodgepodge of thoughts!

part 1 - more ch430 positives

the continued use of a ranked *number system* in particular is silly imo (ig the masses do love a catchy numbered list). but at the very least, i gotta appreciate that the main characters didn't get top rankings straight outta school--when i think about how old they are post-timeskip compared to hawks, especially! bbygirl got #2 at 22 but was child-soldiered into it and was absolutely breaking his proverbial back. it's really not an aspirational thing to beat, and it's not something the main characters have to achieve to be "cool" or fulfilled narratively. they focused on their happiness, instead--shoto on finding his own identity and balancing his life thanks to his support system, bakugo on getting his boyfriend/whatever/queerplatonic-died-in-each-others'-arms-on-a-battlefield-in-a-past-life-and-now-they-keep-reincarnating-together soul-partners/rival back at his side so they can keep pushing each other, etc.! mirio's ascent notwithstanding, it's a healthy nugget from the final chap.

another cute thing from 430 is when hawks jokes that nagant is a villain. this joke has layers to it, considering both had to take on the villain label because of the commission, also contributing to their respective traumas under the commission. (they both even had someone cradle them in their arms shouting that they were still a hero despite them being at their low points--and physically very crispy. one of those someones being hawks himself, ofc.)

next, i gotta appreciate how unfettered hawks's facial expressions have become (also, his under-eyes are already thicker and darker, bro needs to sleep 😭) compared to how subdued they were in the twice fight (and to be clear, his expressions still screamed volumes then. i love how they're drawn to convey so much nuance in his emotions). once he was cut free from the commission, he stopped putting on a smile while doing hero work (there wasn't much to smile about post-raid, but pre-raid i'd argue things were bleak for him already, so at least he doesn't feel the need to put on as many airs). he also started actively sweating and showing fear, but without losing more genuine displays of confidence and happiness. (all this makes me very curious if his speech patterns have also changed in the original japanese to any extent compared to how they were at his introduction)

part 2 - dabi=endhawks truther?!?! *not clickbait*

i remember it being kinda hilarious that dabi tossed out hawks's history as an extra "fuck you" to endeavor, but i forgot how direct he is about his intentions.

he's just like, "yeah, i specifically wanted to drag hawks (and reveal his betrayal and hopefully shake your faith in him) to hurt you, dad. even though you two have hung out, like, maybe twice (may he rest in peace) in your whole lives. trust me, i knew this would be devastating for you. don't ask me how i know." like. touya my man. what are you doing. also thank you. almost makes the angst-lover in me wish he'd added a "don't worry about hawks, dad. you'll be joining him soon" right before attacking him with prominence burn to twist the knife, though understandably that would've convoluted the spotlight when the focus was meant to be on family and the touya reveal. but goddamn, just imagine.

he basically did the exact same thing to hawks by telling him his identity. in revealing a name that could only hold any significance to hawks through its relation to endeavor and what touya's existence implies about him, touya wielded a secret from endeavor's past to psychologically hurt hawks and shake his faith. it's just wild that he did it to both of them, pulled off flawlessly and with maximum drama, in rapid succession. legendary.

anyway, ppl tend to portray dabi as an endhawks anti, when funnily he's kinda more on the side of enjoying the fact they have a connection--granted, mainly as a thing to leverage to hurt them, bc he fuckin despises them (and granted, hatred in dabi's eyes is a complicated thing)--but still! he ain't in denial about endeavor's and hawks's relationship, he's an og! he's first in line! this makes his daddy issue allegations so much worse, but he doesn't care! and honestly i owe my life to him for his service in unearthing the truth; he's doing canon, in-text work to forcefeed the public endhawks crumbs that they didn't even want, and he deserves our utmost respect 🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡

part 3 - our hero academia ft. protective enji

my mind was too wrapped up in The Plot to notice the subtleties of when Press Conference Lady yells at endeavor post-raid--for one thing, i realize on a second read that she's actually kinda yelling at hawks. so much of the emphasis is on endeavor's past actions that i didn't pick up on a few key details. for one, when hawks discusses his murder of jin, the visual centers endeavor's reaction, solemn but accepting/calm.

secondly, Press Con Lady speaks up right after hawks is done talking. thirdly, what she describes--not looking sorry, empty-seeming apologies, incompetence in the face of villains--apply as criticisms equally to hawks as they do to endeavor (notably not to jeanist, as he doesn't have a past or scandalous behavior to answer for).

it's also at this time that endeavor looks more angry (just look at his frown in the panel above!) and actually gives some pricklier-sounding pushback, when before he was mainly resolved and remorseful.

notably, he's translated as saying "we" and "our". ofc he's paying respect to his colleagues at large as well, but considering Press Con's criticisms are pointed most specifically and apply most to hawks and himself, he's strongly implying and acknowledging the pain that hawks has been through.

as he goes on to speak, the word choice shifts away from "us" and "we" to "me" as he claims responsibility for what happens next and urges peoples' slings and arrows to aim at him alone--again, for the sake of his colleagues and family at large, but particularly for hawks in this moment.

the undercurrents are so understated in this scene, but the degree to which endeavor shifts the language and focus away from hawks and onto himself is profound. throughout mha, we've got plenty of thought bubbles showing how hawks feels about endeavor in outright terms, but not as many from endeavor about hawks, especially after all their dirty laundry gets aired out. but even without thought bubbles, how he feels about hawks even at the worst of times becomes perfectly clear.

(god they drive me insane lmao)

[casanovawrites]

FROM season 1 sentence starters

you're like a poem. you know that? you make everything around you beautiful. 

we can't take any chances.

this, unfortunately, is going to be the worst conversation of your life.

do you believe in monsters?

if you climb high enough, even a nightmare can look like a dream.

i can’t find any more bodies. i just can’t.

let me go first. it doesn’t have to be you.

they know there’s only so many places we can go.

i feel like i’m hanging on by a thread here.

what are you looking at?

denial is a major part of our family tree.

i wish you had the luxury of grief, but you don’t.

people are scared. the edges are starting to fray.

you need to be the one to tell them it’ll be okay.

you need to use me as a punching bag? need a place to put all that anger, that regret? fine.

i don’t just sit around accepting the world as it is.

you’re gonna be the hero.

this is how we go home.

if you’re in that much of a hurry to fucking die, you should just go and do it.

you have no idea what it’s like being smarter than everyone you know.

you’re connected to this place in a way no one else here is.

it’s about celebrating survival. reminds me that anything is possible.

you need to get over it and be the scary hard ass we all know you to be.

the second we stop looking for answers, that’s when we lose. 

get the fuck out of here before people start thinking we’re friends.

i’m gonna say something to you that might make you hate me, and if it does, that’s okay.

i found something. something i think is going to help us.

there’s no way you could’ve survived out there. not if it was real.

it’s time to wake up. it’s time to wake everybody up.

i’ve been trying to find the courage to say something.

can you kiss me?

we could’ve died. there’s no way we could’ve survived that.

i’ve just been so angry for a really long time.

it wasn’t your fault.

i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i’m sorry.

i just didn’t want you to leave without saying goodbye.

this is not goodbye, okay? you hear me? this is not goodbye.

just come back.

we’re in a tight spot. no one is going to pretend otherwise.

the least we can do is keep ourselves together.

we’re a community, so we can do this together.

how do we go back now? after the things we’ve seen, the things we’ve done?

how do we go home? we’re not the same people anymore.

this is the only place we’ve ever known together.

i’ll go find a sharper knife. this one’s just taking forever.

how do you know we won’t just walk and walk and walk back to where we started?

i’ve seen this town make good people do bad things.

let’s just keep moving.

when we get home, i’m gonna call my friends. i’m just gonna call them.

when we get home, i want to just be happy.  

we’re all going home, right? we don’t need this place anymore.

it’s not a home anymore. it’s a fucking tomb.

if we push too hard, then something will push back.

i can hear them! i can hear them!

this isn’t some grade school softball game where everyone gets a participation medal.

you wanna know what i’m grieving? i’m grieving the loss of what we almost made this place.

this place almost felt like something that could work.

you can’t see what this place is gonna become when you fail.

what are we supposed to do? sit here and not try to go home?

at least here, the monsters have the decency to show you what they are.

it was more than that. it was special.

all those people from different places, different lives, living together. there was something. there was joy. 

you have to be prepared for the fallout if it doesn’t work.

i think you’re gonna find there’s more to miss about this place than you thought.

that kinda day, huh?

she knows how to wield an ax. i’ll give her that.

i’m not gonna stand here and pretend that it was a great day.

i just need you to promise me, if it falls apart, if you fall apart, just promise me, you’ll come to me.

you have no idea how much pressure it is to be the one everyone assumes can just fix an unfixable problem.

you’re a pretty bad liar.

what’s got you feeling so optimistic?

what if we were supposed to come here?

back home, we never talked anymore. now we’re together again. like, we’re really together. 

i wasn’t sure you’d wake up.

there are things out here that are worse than the monsters.

i’m sure you would’ve figured it out eventually.

where do you think we are?

i don’t even remember anymore who i was before i saw you.

i don’t wanna find out who i am without you.

you are the love of my life. and we could be anywhere, i mean we could be here, we could be there, we could be anywhere in the world, but it would not matter, because you are my home. and i would really like to be yours.

you brought me out here because you thought i could help. look where we are.

doing this is our part.

there is no way out. is there? 

this fucking place! fucking makes you think that you’re doing the right thing, it gives you hope, then it takes it away like it’s feeding on your pain.

you want my pain? you want my fucking pain? come on, get it.

we have to keep moving. towards the light. we have to get towards the lights.

the voice you heard in your head is right, we’re gonna die out here.

i know how offensive you find my proclivities! 

i don't know what to do. and that really freaks me out.

i don’t feel guilty.

we’re going in the right direction. we just need to keep going.

if you don’t go, we are both going to die.

this place is angry now.

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

May... may we get info on the super au? 👉👈

"Monsters", in local dialect, can refer to any being that wields magic and/or is made of magic

SOULs are a culmination of magic, not self

tw/cw (trigger warnings/content warnings)

long post

medical system neglect/trauma

eating disorder (kind of)

food difficulties

knives

violence/murder/death (all implied/mentioned)

body horror, sort of

Killer

first to join the gang

hand arthritis because you're not allowed to enjoy your remaining arm (but you get an arthritis glove so)

mask

transhumeral (above elbow)

knee disarticulation

only character who gets a prosthetic

weird soul shape is the power

very stable

very unstable

Cross

second to join the gang

hood

mask

hasn't lost any limbs (yet)

knife summoning

"scarf"

saw Dream ACCIDENTALLY crush a metal beam with one hand and now screams at the top of his lungs anytime Dream gets close to grabbing him

Dust

third to join the gang

motorcycle-esc helmet

and they were roommates

literally

the economy is in shambles

Doctor: well actually we can't give you prosthetics unless we do a procedure to ensure you're actually missing your arms

Dust: ...but i was born without arms

Doctor: the procedure costs over a thousand dollars and i don't have the authority to diagnose you if you don't do the procedure

Dust: what

Doctor: im sorry

when the medical system is useless you have to improvise

bad for teeth probably

adjustable length grabber tool

whoopee cushion probably

villain outfit

scarf

ankle length

got blue to cut off the arms of a morphsuit and sew the holes up

GASTER BLASTER

Random Civilian: WTF

glowy eye

has a lot of magic to burn

Horror

fourth to join the gang

villain outfit fits him when he grows to a specific height

hasn't lost any limbs

motorcycle-esc helmet

least scared of Dream (because he can run away fast enough)

sharp teefers

Dream

was originally meant to be a manipulative government-working hero who's fake personality reflected canon Dream's while the real personality reflected canon Nightmare's

psychologically broken from spending 500 years in a statue

the constant hunger pains don't help

huge lidless eyes and permasmile tend to disconcert people (uncanny valley)

head is always slightly tilted to alleviate neck pain (making it worse in the long run)

little-no fine motor control

anything in his hands will be held with every ounce of strength he has (which is a lot)

Swap

was sweet and relatively innocent when he started working as a hero (and was a bit squeamish about even hitting villains a bit too hard)

naturally black hair, dyes it constantly to match outfit

prone to trembling violently when angry

blurred for violence

Karen: <- interrupting Blue while he's trying to do his job

originally tried to replace screams with laughter to trick his brain into not panicking during high-stress moments and now ends up laughing hysterically when startled/scared

Villain 42: boo

Past Blue: hahaa! you missed!

Villain 42: boo

Current Blue: AHAHAHA

Villain 42: hey man wtf

Current Blue: i don't know why i did that

Villain 42: it's ok

sledgehammer

mental stability is stretched thin from constantly supervising a murderous human-eating being with the psychological state of a severely traumatised child and a paint-eating psychopath with severe memory issues

Ink

travels the aus where he's human and technically doesn't actually belong to the super au

dislikes water (makes him start dissolving)

likes this au because he doesn't have to hide his supernatural abilities

Ink: wh.. where are my vials

keeps mixing up the definitions of hero and vigilante because it's different from au to au

supposed to have a tragic backstory but he's always forgetting it

legally diagnosed with traumatic brain injury and ASPD despite never taking the tests