#smiles. im in pain

[faereun]

THE FEYWILD. ( arc. i, pre - baldur's gate )

you're still a young'un when your mother becomes cold. she stays locked up in her temple for days at a time, drowning herself in worship and prayer. your father is oft away at war, but he still is more present than she. he visits you and your sister whenever he can, ruffling your spring - soft hair and kissing your forehead, bringing you all manner of toys and trinkets. you and your elder sister find solace in one another; she comforts you when your mother leaves her temple to find you playing house instead of studying scripture, her cold hands   a  cruel  sting   across the pink of your summer - warm cheeks. you take the blame for her when your mother finds tomes of worship for a goddess other than her own, that which she believes to be the only true god. heretic, she cries, when you can take the fall for your sister no longer. heretic and dissenter, she calls your most beloved friend, as her hand cracks down like thunder 'pon her trembling visage. she's your older sister, but in the wake of your mother's booming rage and unkind hands, she's never looked smaller. if the nightsinger is the path to your salvation, you wonder, why is it the moonmaiden's magic that salves the stinging wounds left by your mother's rings?

still, you are nothing if not a diligent child. you keep your head down, lest provoked otherwise  —  you find that you cannot keep quiet when your mother's fury is directed at your sister, your dearest efru; your protector and closest companion. you practice your archery, ready yourself to heed   the  nightsinger's  call   should it ever come. should your mother ever call upon you to   spill blood   in her lady's name. your sister and you grow distant, for a time, though not of your own volition. efru buries herself in her studies, surviving off of scraps of selunite scripture and tomes their mother thought had been lost to time, buried within the recesses of their estate's library. she only wishes for your safety  —  every time she sees you suffering at your mother's hand in place of her, another scar is carved into her soul. she cannot exist with you as her   living  voodoo  doll   any longer. especially not when her rebellion has grown tenfold; mother ripping up the floorboards of her quarters to find tome upon tome, scroll upon scroll of selunite worship. she confiscates most everything, but it's pointless, anyways. she's nearly memorized everything she's ever read, and that which she hasn't is copied down in her journals thrice over.

still. as hard as things are at home, things are … okay. your father comes home to visit more often these days, off fighting whatever stupid war your mother seems to be raging in the depths of the feywild  —  spilling blood merely for the sake of spilling blood, you're sure. his smile is warm and worn, the skin around his eyes crinkling up like crows' feet when he sees you and your sister. for an archfey, he looks so old. too old. it would seem that the feywild agrees, for one day, when he comes home  —  well, perhaps it is that he doesn't come home at all. not really. you're with your sister, head in her lap as she murmurs hymns to you under her breath, when you both hear the solemn thundering of marching boots and a moaning, melancholy tune :    a  funeral  march   . you scramble to your feet, racing through the halls and down to the dining hall, where you know you'll find what you fear most; you're sure of it, a sick, sinking feeling that eats away at your stomach. your father, laid bare before your mother, with only the barest breath of life still on his lips. she does not weep. tears are already gathering in the corners of your eyes, dropping to your knees as the truth sinks in. the air is acrid with the stench of blood , a trail of it already drying brown against the white of the marble floors. 

your father is going to die. and there is nothing you'll be able to do about it. except  —  efru pulls out her staff, the mutterings of an incantation humming to life with ancient, glowing magic. she's a naturally gifted cleric, always has been, and a sigh of relief catches in your throat when your mother hisses a counterspell under her breath, flinging efru's staff from her hands, where it clatters against stone; it is a hollow, thudding sound. you feel your heart crack like glass.   'please. mother, this is ridiculous, i can save him—'   she begs, but to no avail. your mother spits at her, gathering your father up in her arms.   'silence. your craven, tainted magic will not touch him. not so long as i live and breath, and am the sole lady of this house,'   she hisses, every word dripping with venom. like efru is nothing but a gnat to be swatted from her line of sight, a spider to be crushed underneath the heel of her boot. efru moves to reach for her staff, hands trembling with desperation, but a booming wave of thunder knocks her prone, the carved willow rolling well out of reach. you feel it in the marrow of your bones when his heart stops beating. a gut - wrenching cry tears through your chest, ripping out from your throat and past bleeding lips, ones you'd been gnawing at so fervently you hadn't even noticed when you'd broken skin. 

slowly, verdant green curls are awash with an aching azure storm, streaks of white tickling the nape of your neck where sage flesh has gone death - blue, the freckles adorning your cheeks like speckles of moss suddenly blindingly white, like specks of snow across the bridge of your nose. it feels as though your heart has frozen over, succumbed to the harshest feywild winter you've ever known. you don't think you'll ever smile again.

[hinamie]

just looking at these hand poses was enough to give me carpal tunnel and that's how u know they're prime megu material

[yrsonpurpose]

It's so interesting to try and add to this story and not tarnish the wonderful work that's been done.

[sholmeser]

vlr out of context compilation

[spiritoast]

my favorite coming-of-age teen sitcom

[anonymoosen]

AIDEN’S SO SILLY WHAT

[charpim4ever]

i was tweaking the whole time drawijng these, I ROCKED THROUGH IT BRU🙏🙏🤧💔

[valtsv]

i need to start practicing facial expressions in the mirror again so that i can perform emotions with confidence

[noname-404s-blog]

[frogintheair]

HAPPY PANDREO (AND PANETTE) DAY IN FEH!!!!! 🍞✨

[holmsister]

Unpopular almost blasphemous labru opinion time: kabru would so be into getting flavour profiled actually hed be like. Oh citrus notes interesting. And then he'd have a small crisis about not being able to do the same for Laios BUT he can tell him how quickly he would die if he stabbed him in whatever part he's kissing and that's just as sexy

[littledeathh]

He's fully clothed btw

[hinamie]

Your face in profile, with a look I'd never seen

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[yrsonpurpose]

NICHOLAS GALITZINE This Morning promoting Mary & George

[gayfortheplot]

I know we're ignoring canon right now, but can. Can we just talk about Dabi's ending for a second? Because like. What the fuck? This guy's been suffering his entire life. From being abused by his father, to being kidnapped and experimented on while he's in a coma, just to escape and go home to find out his worst fears have come true, his family abandoned him, they never really cared. Then, he spends the next 8 years homeless, where he damages his body so much to the point he's being held together by staples? How painful was his daily life?? No wonder he wanted to die. His life was hell. And now, he spends his last days alive trapped in a fucking fish tank, in excruciating agony (you cannot tell me he isn't in any pain. He has no fucking skin left, along with his other injuries. Not to mention the emotional and psychological trauma once again inflicted on him). He doesn't get to choose whether or not he wants to keep living through this nightmare. He doesn't get to choose whether or not he wants Endeavor to visit him every day. No one asks him his opinion on any of this. They decide for him, and he doesn't have the strength left to protest. He can't move, can't talk, can't do anything. All he can do is sit there, watching on helplessly, with the knowledge that after his death, his family will once again leave him behind and forget all about him. He'll never see the League again, the only people in the world who actually loved him unconditionally and never saw him as a problem or a mistake. He has to die with the knowledge that he failed. His family won't ever truly see him as a person, and he never, not once in his life, got to be happy.

[art-o-gant]

my fucking les mis brainrot is back can you believe it.

marius jumpscare under the cut

marius be upon ye