#kin death tolls

[fictionkinfessions]

Kin death tolls?

*Glances at Chara and Frisk* *glances at Brianna Afton* *glances at Ben* *glances at Ayano Aishi* *glances at Error Sans*

Haha-

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #kin death tolls #undertalekin #fnafkin #bendrownedkin #futurediarykin #utmvkin #charakin #friskkin #briannaaftonkin #errorsanskin #benkin #mod party cat!

[pathologicalreid]

angst masterlist

main masterlist

note: italicized titles denote requests; asterisks (*) mark all retired!reader fics; plus signs (+) mark hurt/comfort.

buried alive (2), (3): in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

the archer: in which a trip to your hometown leads an exposed past and a wrongful arrest, you can't help but wonder who could stay

brilliance: in which reader goes into labor after a fight and spencer is nowhere to be found

a father's daughter: in which your father doesn't approve of your relationship, but who knows how he'll react when reid jumps into action after a threat against your life

*stuck between a rock and a hard place: you, an undercover agent, uncover a hidden secret of the country's largest operation, putting your life in danger and under the protection of the BAU.

*the space between us: the adjustment between never being home and always being home starts to take a toll on you

*this is the job: you and Spencer (almost) get into a fight about the demands of your job.

sense memory: after eight months, you and Spencer reunite after he was in prison and you were in WITSEC.

no sign of danger: when SWAT makes a mistake that puts you in danger, your boyfriend is... displeased

next of kin: disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister

perennial: unrequited love brings spencer to his death bed, unless you can rescue him

work song: no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her

can you come get me? when you manage to escape your captor, and your first call is to spencer

epiphany: a story in four parts, before, during, after, and epiphany

+resilient: in which your boyfriend lends you and hand when your own are working against you

+dazed days: your job at the FBI is hard, but life with spencer is easy

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort #margot's masterlists

[paragonrobits]

something i think about a lot in fullmetal alchemist is the textual point, implicitly from the plot in general and outright stated by Izumi Curtis, is that the Truth is entirely justified in the cruel lessons it doles out to those arrogant and shortsighted enough to think they can just force the cycle of life and death to do what they want

and other series might have denounced the Truth, in some way, for doing it to children. Something like 'they were just little kids who missed their mother' or implying that any kind of morality applies to the Truth as fundamentally a force of cosmic judgement.

But the lines more or less outright say 'yeah, no. the Truth is cruel, but the truth is always correct. They were foolish, they were full of themselves, and they suffered the consequences for it"

no for nothing is the Truth established as basically mocking Edward to his face in a curt, criticizing method, condemning him for his arrogance. A child he may be, but it is still arrogance, still the destructive hubris at work.

"You have dared to knock on the door."

"Now the door has opened."

"Quiet, child. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Now I'll show you... the TRUTH."

And a big part of it is that the truth of the world is often cruel. It's harsh, pitiless, and shows the same exact amount of cruelty to grieving mothers of stillborn infants and children mourning the loss of their mother. And it is implicitly mirrored in the other horrors of the setting's history.

The mass graves of Ishval are pretty clear evidence of that; being children won't shelter you from the evils of the world. It's there in Alex Louis Armstrong sobbing as he holds the broken body of a child he is almost certainly responsible for killing, however indirectly. It's there in the Scarred Ishvalan dedicating himself to die in a destructive rampage because with no homeland or kin left, all he has left is vengeance.

There's no wriggle room out of it, no excuse. You fuck around, you find out, and the toll you pay for knocking on the door of the truth is to have what you can least afford to lose taken from you, as cruelly and violently as possible, so every single day you wake up and you're reminded of the lesson, over and over.

Is it cruel? Absolutely. But mere humans don't get to argue with the universe. You have to simply live with the consequences. Sometimes there's a way around it, as Izumi notes.

But perhaps it was outlined in the very first pages of the manga: "A painless lesson has no meaning, because mankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return."

#queued #fullmetal alchemist

[evilvillain123456789]

My name is Brandynne. I am 38 years old and I live in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I enjoy dipping, mudding, shooting, pontooning, and hunting small game in the rail yard behind my house. I was born from a transgender lesbian and a transgender gay man having sex together, yet I am a healthy, neurotypical, white, cisgender, straight, symmetrical, southern baptist, libertarian male. However, due to a series of unprecedented clerical errors, I was clinically diagnosed with gender identity disorder multiple times, and am legally considered both MTF and FTM. Because of this, I cannot participate in competitive sports of any kind, and I was orphaned six times in six different gender reveals, each more catastrophic than the last, amassing a total death toll of 12 men, 11 women, 8 enbies, 5 dogs, 4 chickens, 2 horses, and 274 hogs. I bear no animosity to the transgender community, and fervently pray for the ban on transgender military servicemen to lift, although my chance to enlist and die a warrior's death, as I have always dreamed, has passed with the waxing of the years. My kin list is in my carrd, doubles are Ok but please be respectful.

[petergriffinjr]

don't you mock lois' struggles with your two-bit impersonation. you will NEVER have what she does

Okay I can't help but Notice rising hostilities against Family Guy Kins because I get anon asks All the time which I delete that say Bad things about me and my family And I see Mom get them all the time. You don't know me you think you do but you don't. I Know what my Mom goes through and actually I Understand what the Devil's Heart is and How it came about. I was shook to DEATH by my Dad. A man I was Supposed to trust and protect. And my name faded into obscurity as time went on. My family Have no pictures of me in the house. Meg Chris And Stewie never mention me. Mom did Once but that was enough. There is a lot of Hatred Fear Regret and Wrath there to make a soul want to Linger after death. This is the Essence of the Dark Soul (But not its entirety). I want to be Reunited with my Family or to not remain in this world any longer and to rest. I don't expect some nincompoop to show compassion or understanding Especially when they're just trying to stir up fights in the Family Guy Kin community but guess what? You Failed. You Will not lessen my Mom's Struggles with her Devil's Heart and You won't lessen mine. Or any other Family Guy Kin for that matter. I Won't let it happen. The Bell Shall Toll for You one day And I shall be its Ringer.

#family guy #anti-family guy hate #peter griffin jr #petergriffinjr

[alexanderlightweight]

that Pray to the Hunter prompt was so cool, I felt like I was in a dark epic fantasy, I got goosebumps. any chances of a follow up for the wednesday prompt?

i'm glad! i hope you enjoy this!

lumine

-

Alec stares at Fray’s mundane with a disgusted look on his face as he activates several of his runes. When Fray finally steps back, wiping her eyes and kissing the mundane on the cheek, he takes his opportunity.

There will be plenty of time to talk things out with his siblings later, there are more important things to fix.

Fray screams as Alec catches the mundane, having knocked him unconscious a moment before.

“Mundanes don’t belong in the shadowworld. This should have proved that. I’m going to get him checked over, we have no idea what a mundane could have picked up from a vamp den.” Alec ignores the little girl as he cuts his palm with a bone knife and carefully marks two runes with blood on the outside of the mundanes clothing.

It won’t kill him and it will keep him safe from the elements while Alec runs. There's far too much death energy on him after killing the vampires for it to be safe otherwise.

“Alec? Where are you taking him? Jace, he broke my wrist earlier and you’re just going to let him take Simon? He hates Simon!”

“Well technically,” Izzy says, with that smug voice that Alec just knows a smirk is stretched across her lips. “Alec has a duty to protect Simon and one to train you. I’d say Simon is the lucky one in this scenario.”

Whatever Fray is screaming next is gone, lost to the wind as Alec heads for the largest source of magic he can find.

It feels similar to the wards of the Institute and Alec respectfully cuts his palm, leaving an imprint and impression of himself to the hungry, curious wards.  It means that he’s unprepared for the High Warlock to actually open the doors.

Alec is practically finger painting with blood and he stills before he finishes the last curve of the rune. It brightens as it activates and the wards welcome its power eagerly and Alec feels ice trickle down his spine.

It’s intoxicating, like waking from a fever to a face full of frost.

“Oh, your death and blood magic are exquisite.” Alec is being told and he smirks, nodding smugly as hands — he scowls at first until they touch him, warm and strong — and then he tips into them. “I think Edom liked how you tasted a little too much, darling. Come sit hmm? And this… ah a mundane. Camille’s work by the looks of it.”  Alec means to explain how the mundane is involved, but the grip his ancestors have on his soul is finally fading.

The icy cold is receding to be replaced by an intense warmth that is warming Alec soul deep.

The greyish-white haze that’s lingered like a veil over Alec’s vision passes and the deep ache in his bones slowly starts to melt away.

“It’s a heavy burden, to bear the deaths of your ancestors.” Magnus murmurs above him and Alec shrugs, because it was never that to him.

“I want’d something tang’ble.” Alec tries to explain because the power in his family’s bones is so much deeper than his connection to Raziel. However, words are hard and he’s crashing, the toll of feeding death to his ancestors making him sluggish.

“And the closest thing you could get to tangible, was the bones of your kin.” Magnus murmurs above him and Alec doesn’t really hear him, too interested in the embrace of sleep.

A hand presses to his face and Alec can’t help the gasp he lets out in his sleep or how he pushes up and into it without knowing.

Magnus sees it though and he notes it down even as he sends the mundane through to Catarina’s ward. He’ll be put in a magical quarantine there, to ensure the vampires left no lasting damage on him and Magnus, well he has a shadowhunter to introduce to tangibility.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #pray to the hunters #malec #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood

[morningmask27]

reminiscence

I kinda wrote a little thing, not connected to anything I've done before.

It's a bit of a challenge for me to just write short stories that are not going to devolve into Massive Projects, so this is kinda just a story existing on its own and I hope you'll like it.

She entered her cave silently. It was empty aside from her; she would know if someone else was in there. Stone Claws rarely ever dare to follow her all the way in, which made her feel somewhat more safe at least. She laid down in the back and looked at the scars on her flanks. She and the Stone Claws had had many fights in the past and that she was still alive was barely short of a miracle. Each line marring her body was there because she survived. Often it did mean a Stone Claw or two died, or even a few of their followers; those small stubborn cowards. Show your teeth and they turn around with their tails between their legs. She huffed, it hurt. Last time she encountered Stone Claws they got a bad hit on her neck. It was healing nicely, but could sting at sharp movements or actions. Droplets dripped down the teeth of the cave, forming small pools on the floor. She felt tired all of a sudden, just tired. It had been many winters since she had joined this world, so it wasn’t unusual. Many winters indeed; many winters since her mom took care of her and her siblings. Back then she rarely had some alone time. She and her siblings got in many troubles and the elders often scolded them for their latest ingenious stunt, but she would never regret it. Not any of it. She had wished to enjoy this life too, of complaining about the frolicking youngsters, but she was alone. She prefers her alone time, but it had been so long since she had seen a young one, since she had seen anyone at all. It must have been a season or two at least, and they were always scared or wounded. Stone Claws on their traces. One of her old friends she did save by ambushing the lone Stone Claw on the hunt; a little overzealous youngster, just like she had been, but she had survived and they had not. Was it luck? Was it just how life works? Did they have that small bit of too much audacity that led them to their death? She would never know. Stone Claws are mysterious creatures to her, just like she must be to them. She and the rest of her kin. But since that last wounded friend of hers she hadn’t seen anyone anymore. It began becoming more and more worrying, but she had always wanted to keep that for the smarter members of her family; she wasn’t the type to worry, she’d rather live life and see what comes. The tiredness was taking more of a toll on her. She wondered if it’d be a good idea to take a nap now. Stone Claws like hunting during the day, but this cave should still be safe enough and she was hidden in the back of the cave. Stone Claws, with their miserable sense of smell, would probably not even sense her in there. She laid her head down and closed her eyes. The dripping of the droplets sounded louder until they could be mistaken for steps. Small steps of a young one. Had any of her kin been hiding in this cave the whole time? Why didn’t they join her earlier then? She tried to raise her head, but it felt too heavy. She couldn’t even open her eyes anymore, but she did feel a little shape pressing against her. It felt odd, but oddly comforting at the same time. She wanted to see the little shape, but it was all dark and heavy. All of it except the little one next to her, purring happily at the warmth she shared with them. She enjoyed the source of joy, letting it doze her off little by little until she felt her body fully fall into a deep slumber. The darkness disappeared all of a sudden. She felt lighter and freer. More than she had been in a while. She lifted her head and turned to see the small cub nestled at her flank. It smiled at her with the same starry smile she remembers so fondly. “Hi sis! You ready to play?” they asked, leaping up ready for their next exploit. Their tail swished in the air playfully and curved in that way that was so undeniably them. She smoothly stood up, leaving the dead weight she carried behind and followed her sibling out of the cave. She would probably not have a lot of alone time anymore now.

#morningtalks #morningwrites #It's really just a small thingy but I do want to share it here a bit #Hope you'll enjoy it

[scotianostra]

On January 28th 1927 hurricane force winds struck Scotland, killing 22 and seriously injuring 150 people in Glasgow.

The following day, the Larne Times told readers that practically ‘every property in Glasgow was damaged’ - with two tenements completely destroyed. Locals described the crash of falling debris in all corners of the city.

With schools shut down, trams halted, and the telephone systems down - Glasgow was chaotic. Fifty fire engines were on hand to help the city, with eight ambulances continuously carrying the injured to hospital.

On Newark Street, a repairman was crushed by a snapped tree blown down by the winds – killing him instantly. Elsewhere in the city, several of those killed were crushed by falling masonry - such as George McDonald who was rendered unconscious by a falling chimney and died in hospital two days later.

The largest death toll was caused by the collapse of a chimney head at Marlow Street in Kinning Park, with the falling wreckage killing five people outright. The gales threw masses of solid stonework down through successive flights of the homes, tearing occupants and furniture in an avalanche towards the ground.

Two infant children miraculously escaped at Marlow Street. One child, who fell two storeys, was found among the debris - with a dummy still in its mouth, crying but unhurt.

A second child, who had been sitting in a pram on the ground floor, was unscratched by the masses of stones, plaster, and stoves which had fallen around.

Across Scotland, 22 deaths were recorded - nine of these due to the collapse of buildings. In one case, a man trying to get home by way of the train tracks to avoid falling masonry was killed by a night train.

On February 1, the Lord Provost announced the opening of a relief fund for the hurricane. He appealed to Glaswegians: “Great distress has been caused to many deserving citizens by the disastrous hurricane of last week, especially those who have bereaved and rendered homeless by the collapse of their houses, and the destruction of their furniture and other belongings.”

Elsewhere in Scotland, a horse-lorry driver was killed by a flying piece of iron from a nearby building in Dundee. An East Lothian farmer lost her life when the roof of the farm hen house collapsed on itself.

The damage in Glasgow was estimated at around £250,000, which is £16million by today's standards.

Those lost in the 1927 hurricane included; Nan Dicke (12), Hugh Gallacher (44), James Brown (46), Martian McIntyre (25), Lizzie McIntyre (8), Charles Rennie (4), James Duncan (2), George Henderson, Charles Connelly (36), George McDonald (39), and George Hunter (21).

The video shows footage from British Pathé of the aftermath of the tenement terror.

#scotland #scottish #history #storm #hurricane #Youtube

[hydesjackiespuddinpop]

Probably better off a personal post, but I figured you'd get a kick out of this:

I want to believe the Founding Families of TVD's past have some intricate stories since they leave behind mysteries that we only see solved in in the 21st century. And I like to make some hidden history:

In TVD 3x17, we learn that Meredith Fell had Samantha Gilbert's journal via her grandmother. Typically we assume they (Founding Families) just took her belongings after her death or at least the Gilbert Family would've. But instead, it was a Fell (whom I called "Marjorie Ann Fell") who had it - or rather, she inherited the diary from her mother ("Margaret Ruth Fell"), Meredith's great-grandmother.

Here's what I think happened: Samantha and Margaret were in love in 1912. Samantha worked as a bookkeeper and Margaret worked as a nurse at an asylum - though her family didn't initially approve. While she worked in the daytime, Samantha was an avid vampire hunter at night and used her family heirloom, The Gilbert Ring, to come back to life. However, when the ring took a toll on her psyche after reviving many times - creating an alter ego and killing members of the council - Samantha kept a diary of her spiral & worried she'd hurt the woman she loved. Her nightmare eventually came to head 10 years later in 1922 when she nearly killed Margaret. Full of remorse, she told her about what she was going through, which helped piece together that she was the killer. Margaret convinced Samantha to reveal the truth about the ring to the council, which was how she ended up in the asylum Margaret worked at and even got assigned as her nurse. Samantha struggled from the negative side effects of the ring with Margaret by her side until one day it became too much. She has a breakdown and cried in tears, professing her love and making her promise to keep her diary safe should anything happen to her. Tearfully understanding Samantha was at her limits, she professed her love back and took her diary. That night, Samantha took the knitting needles used during the day and killed herself via forced lobotomy and died of blood loss. Margaret, as her nurse, was questioned but ultimately quit due to losing the love of her life at 36. Another 10 years later in 1932, she had her daughter, Marjorie Ann (Meredith's grandmother) at 46. She died in the 1960 and left Samantha's diary to her in hopes that if the Gilbert Rings - that was given to Samantha's next of kin despite her disapproval - ever caused the same problems that cost Samantha her life, a Fell would ensure it got to the right person to prevent it from happening again...

As it did in 2010 with Alaric Saltzman.

Now, wouldn't this romance be in Samantha's diary? I would think that, but in typical forbidden romance fashion, I believe Margaret tore out any pages implying their love. Perhaps there would be a time when people like her and Samantha would be accepted, but in the time period they lived, the risk of anyone knowing was too great.

(Heads up, in Legacies S1, the Necromancer summoned a witch to get him the knife he needed. I dated her outfit - she was very likely from the 1910s and I wouldn't be surprised if she manipulated Samantha to kill Zachariah Salvatore. He was probably related to or covered up her death and used Samantha as revenge. Yeah, that's what I'm going with!)

So, what do you think?

Honestly I don't have super strong opinions on this, but I like the idea of Meredith's grandmother being in love with a Gilbert. The way you describe their story is so compelling and giving star crossed lovers. Reminds me of Stelena. I love a good forbidden romance.

#answered #deafchild2000 #ik my answer sounds lame

[fictionkinfessions]

kin death tolls… let’s see.

as alduin? too many to count. i was world eater; i know for a fact i had lived up to my moniker at least once. that means millions, perhaps billions of deaths. not to mention the dragon war in the merethic era; so many died to me, both humans and my own kin.

so. death toll? millions. perhaps more. -alduin (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim) #🐟🦈

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #🐟🦈 #kin death tolls #alduinkin #elderscrollskin #skyrimkin #death cw #wars cw #mod party cat!

[lesbx]

It’s obvious to anyone with an ounce of sense that the Stormcloaks, Ulfric Stormcloak in particular, are not good to side with for so many reasons, fantasy bigotry being chief among them, but I feel like it’s even more obvious when delving into it in-fiction. At it’s core, the Stormcloak rebellion is a terribly short-sighted despot’s attempt at a further power grab, one that intentionally takes advantage of a larger conflict and in turn, only furthers the toll that conflict has already taken on the populace at large. Ulfric’s ideology ignores the fact that the Empire conceded itself to the Dominion for it’s own survival, not out of a willingness to bend a knee to invaders and certainly not out of a willingness to abandon Talos as a deity.

Ulfric either forgets or chooses not to acknowledge that the war between the Empire and the Dominion is not over, that it is still being waged politically and on the battlefield. His perspective cannot account for strategic decisions beyond fighting or dying, so the idea of him as High King, someone who would be entrusted to make decisions far more complex than that, would be troubling to say the least.

Who benefits from the bloodshed of the civil war but the Thalmor, the very enemy Stormcloak claims to be uniting against? The men of the north cut down their own kin, bleed their own land, all in the name of a man who cannot tell an ally from a foe, who cannot conceive of a goal beyond his own ambitions, and who cannot dream of consequences beyond his own death? *blows airhorn*

[emyn-arnens]

2 and 16 for Aragorn and Faramir?

If you're not comfortable with these characters lmk, I'll suggest others :)

2. Love

“By your leave,” said Aragorn, “I would have your father’s ashes collected from the House of the Stewards, where they have lain untouched since the day of the battle, and have them entombed within marble, as the Stewards before him, for he should receive the honor of burial and remembrance, though I fear he shall be remembered by his people only for his dying deeds.

“But with your permission, I would end the custom of building tombs and houses for the dead that are fairer than the houses of the living, and I would ask that he be buried in a simple house of stone, as will I and all the kings and lords who follow after me.”

“You have my permission,” said Faramir, “but I would ask one thing of you—that the arms and gear that my brother left in his rooms when he undertook his journey to Rivendell might be placed in a tomb next to my father’s, for Boromir was loved and revered by the people of the city, and I would have some piece of his memory remain here, though his body has passed over the waters of the Anduin and into the sea.”

Aragorn smiled and said gently, “We shall do that for him and more, for he was a brother greatly loved. It is custom, I have heard, for the horns and bells of the Citadel to toll the news of a lord’s death, and as Boromir has not yet received that honor, I would give you and the people of the city the chance to properly mourn him, as you have not been able to.”

16. Questioning

Dusk fell upon Minas Tirith in a soft mantle as Aragorn and Faramir walked among the gardens of the Houses of Healing, the silence stirred only by the splashing of the nearby fountain and the mournful calls of nightingales.

“Merry told me that you were the last to see my brother alive,” said Faramir, his voice quiet, “and every hour since I heard the distant cry of his horn and since I beheld his body pass by me and continue down the Anduin, I have longed to know of his final moments, and what he might have spoken as the light faded from his eyes.”

Aragorn was silent for a long moment, and then at last he said, “I have long kept Boromir’s last words a secret, revealing them to none so that his honor and memory might be untarnished, for he was a valiant man, and his death was honorable—but you are his kin and should know of what occurred during the hour of his death: Boromir revealed to me that he had tried to take the Ring from Frodo and bitterly regretted it, and he charged me to go to Minas Tirith and save our people, since he had failed—that was what he said to me.”

“It is as I guessed,” said Faramir, “for Frodo revealed to me that he and Boromir did not part as friends, and that Boromir had sought to take the Ring from him and bring it here to the city; it was a bitter fate that befell him that day, and bitter were his last words.”

Pausing, Aragorn turned and clasped Faramir’s forearm and said, “Boromir died having conquered his folly, and so I told him to bring him peace in his passing, and he understood and was comforted, both in that and in the knowledge that I would not let this city fall—and so I tell you: Boromir did not die in dishonor, nor did he die in vain, and because of his valor, the Uruks spared Merry and Pippin, and the Quest was saved, and Minas Tirith still stands.”

Send me a number and two characters and get a five-sentence drabble.

#in my boromir feelings today so everything is turning out sad and boromir related :') #i do like to think that faramir eventually learned about boromir's final moments and was able to finally fully mourn him after the war #and that minas tirith honored and commemorated boromir in some way #thank you for the ask! #lotr #faramir #aragorn #boromir #asks #my fic

[itsguysnightitsironic]

INDEX

Edge of Midnight, Out of context -- THE TITLE OF THE EP.

EXTRA CONTENT: . ILLUSTRATION (⚰️) . COMIC (🪦) . VIDEO / ANIMATIC (🦴) . SHITPOST (🕯️) If emojis are fuss together it's the two things ---> example: (🕯️ / ⚰️ ) SHITPOST AND ILLUSTRATION. If it's surrender by stars (⭐) it means it's an official LOA short that I was commissioned to animate.

We might not know what the mist hides, but at less we're on the right path.

🪦🪦🪦 SEASON 1: 🪦🪦🪦

EP. 1 THE OLD BLACK TRAIN

"Death approaches you, dressed in dark, light and smoke. A mechanical beast." (⚰️)

EP. 2 HOUSE OF LAMENT

You took a taxi? WHERE? IN THE FUCKING LIMBO? (🕯️/🦴)

EP. 3 CROOKED

⭐"But it was too late, she was already filling a glass of weasels" (🕯️ / 🦴 )⭐

EP. 4 TOYS IN THE ATTIC

EP. 5 MOB RULES

EP. 6 HARD KNOCK LIFE

EP. 7 JUDGEMENT OF HEAVEN

EP. 8 GATHERED FOR THE FEAST

EP. 9 WITHIN TEMPTATION

EP. 10 POUND OF FLESH

EP. 11 INFESTED

Blinded by the sun (⚰️)

EP. 12 MASS HYSTERIA

EP. 13 THE BELL TOLLS FOR THEE

EP. 14 NOT A PRISONER

EP. 15 PIGEONHOLED

EP. 16 DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

EP. 17 HAUNTING MEMORIES

"Carrying your own corpse"(⚰️)

EP. 18 REVELATIONS

EP. 19 TURNED TO SIN

🌛NIGHT OF THE CROOKED MOON - ONE SHOT🌛

🥀🥀🥀I N T E R M I S S I O N 🥀🥀🥀

EP. 20 INNER DEMONS

It's incredible the Effect of Altitude on Cognitive Performance and Mood States (🕯️/🪦) The jaws under the gums (🦴)

EP. 21 THE BALLAD OF WILLIAM VAN BRUNT

We don't need to speak of it. (For a cut tree should have a silent fall) (🪦) "And the devil is but a ram and I am only hunger." (⚰️) Changed. (🪦)

EP. 22 HER LIMBS ARE THRAWN

EP. 23 LAST RITES

EP. 24 THE FALLEN KNEEL

How many times do we have to teach you this lesson, old fey? (🕯️/🪦) ---> ft.🌹🌹CURSE OF STRAHDANYA🌹🌹

"Rent does really cost an arm and a leg, and the other leg, and the other arm, and the torso, and-" (🕯️)

🪦🪦🪦 SEASON TWO 🪦🪦🪦

EP. 25 LONELY CAIRN OF STONES

Dragon death, roses of blood, and the knight away, but his heart? His heart was in the hand of the princess where it stayed until the last kite melted. (🪦) Me and my head high / And my tears dry / Get on without my guy(s) (⚰️/🪦)

EP. 26 STUFF OF NIGHTMARES

EP. 27 SENSELESS AND INSENSIBLE

EP. 28

🌛THE CROOKED MOON🌛

An invitation for a midnight snack I PART 1 I (🕯️/🪦) ---> ft.🌹🌹CURSE OF STRAHDANYA🌹🌹 An invitation for a midnight snack I PART 2 I (🕯️/🪦) ---> ft.🌹🌹CURSE OF STRAHDANYA🌹🌹 An invitation for a midnight snack I PART 3 I (🕯️/🪦) ---> ft.🌹🌹CURSE OF STRAHDANYA🌹🌹

OUTSIDE THE LOOP.

"For Shar takes it all, And leaves nothing." (🪦) And once again the world is safe thanks to some silly freaks (🕯️/🪦) Kith and kin. /Aromantic week 2024/ (🪦) ---->ft. 🪻🪻BENEATH DARK WINGS🪻🪻 ---->ft.🌼🌼ONCE UPON A WITCHLIGHT 🌼🌼 ---> ft. 💠💠ICEBOUND💠💠 ---> ft.✨✨STARDUST RHAPSODY ✨✨ ---> ft. 🌹🌹CURSE OF STRAHDANYA🌹🌹 ---> ft. 🌻🌻PRIME 🌻🌻 The lords of everything under the moon, and soon under the sun. (⚰️) Can we get Lathander on the phone? (🕯️/🪦) Curse of the Nitghborne. (🪦 / ⚰️/🦴) ---> ft.🌹🌹CURSE OF STRAHDANYA🌹🌹 To love, to adore, to devour. (⚰️) There's some edge in my midnight… Like a ravenloft folktale even (🕯️/🪦) "Guys, it's six in the morning… The horrors aren't even awaken yet!" (🦴) back to the office, baby (the last shift looks traumatized) (🕯️/🪦) ---->ft.🌼🌼ONCE UPON A WITCHLIGHT 🌼🌼 Our lady of loss, the dark lady (⚰️) Who let the undead cook? (🕯️/🪦) ---> Just, just don't go shopping, EVER (🕯️/🪦) ft. 🌷🌷6 YEAR ANNIVERSARY ONE-SHOT 🌷🌷 "Oh love, Oh sin! I see you, I see you on unknown eyes!"(⚰️) EVIL MIDNIGHT 4: Where the bingo when. (🕯️/🪦)

#legends of avantris #edge of midnight #ol' jericho sticks #marius renathyr #briggsy “the kutlass” kratch #lethica nightborne #yorgrim #virgil (raum) #farryn of the hartsblight #tw long post

[naturalswimmingspirit]

ellanoahbancroft_

Humans are not destroying the earth. Disconnected humans are. Extractive, capitalist, imperial, hierarchical "civilizations" are. Where's all the headlines on climate, on our world being destroyed by giant corporatations. Why is the news not showing the death toll of our more than human kin? Environmentalism and sustainablily should be about protecting wild beings and wild places not about continuing "civilisation" as we know it. Green technology is not the way. It will allow us to continue this consumptive and disconnected culture for a few more years but ultimately if we want to heal the earth we need a culture change. One that stops destroying our earth. These "green" technologies are not leading us to utopia. What does it take to build a wind turbine? To make solar panels? Do you know? Mining will not stop until we change the system that demands grow, expansion and consumption. Capitalist, colonial, white culture is killing our planet. It is an illusion to believe the continuous consumption can keep going and what we just need to change the energy source? A sustainable culture is what we need to return to. We need to stop letting sociopaths make the decisions for our global community. We need a culture where we value less is more. Where simplicity becomes success. The rare earth is being extracted by giant machinary that runs on fossil fuels, on diseal. Green energy needs fossil fuels to run? Huge amount of water... Creating more mines that will become more cancers of our earth. Symbols of our greed, seen from the galaxy. Green energy is not technology that will save the planet, it's to continue our captiist energy consumption. Guess what, most of the "green energy" isn't wind and sun, it's bio mass. Bio mass energy is literally taking down our trees and burning them or planting large agricultural monocrops for fuel.. Hmmm Oh its so deforestation!! How is it carbon nuteral? Can someone please tell me how burning trees is carbon nuteral? Also most bio mass comes from USA and so bio mass creates 20% more green house gasses than coal? And then it's shipped so another 20%. That's 40% more than coal? What is going on here?

[upon-blades-twilight]

@blxxditout

It has been another rough evening of battles for this Vergil mirror.

Ever since Mundus' death Ouroboros had been blessed with freedom--but so has all of his other minions. The odd origins of this one made him a prime target for the others. After all, consuming a kin of Sparda must have granted something. If not power then certainly a wave of dopamine for claiming such a trophy.

Thankfully, he managed to find himself a break from the pestering in the form of a nearby mirror. He used it as a means of transportation into the human world. The ability was a remnant of Nelo Angelo, which his creators chose to grant him as well. Now that he was in the human world, he chose to use his glamouring abilities to retint himself into that of his mirror's; blues and flesh that actually didn't look entirely dead. Otherwise if anyone saw him his looks and crimson eyes would have been incredibly questionable.

With help of the dusk as cover, Ouroboros was able to quietly slip between the buildings where he would find further cover. Leaning against the wall there he grit his teeth. Wounds weren't suffered by much but rather it was fatigue that was taking its' toll on him. He clung a hand against his dominant right arm and slid into a sitting position. The malformed shape it was beginning to take on suggested that there was something extremely wrong with it.

"Damn it... Why now? Normally I could last longer than this. Pitiful, really."

With a quivered sigh, he tried to steel himself against the pain of the deteriorating flesh of that arm. It oozed and leaked in ivory through his sleeve.

#{⚚𝔔𝔲𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡} #||𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕪|| #starter! #blxxditout

[gurlbesimpin]

Blood and cold

(named Durge x Gortash)

Chapter three: attempted remembrance

The skies of Baldur's Gate are dark except for the occasional star illumining the night sky. Alaia's footsteps create a calming and quiet rhythm on the cobble roads of the usually bustling city. Her thoughts are a jumbled and unorthodox mixture of confusion, anger, grief and... Longing? 

Alaia continues her quiet walk through the empty streets of Baldur's Gate, each step absentmindedly taking her somewhere. 

Her steps are slow and uncalculated, her feet moving absently from her busy mind. 

The frustration of having her blood-kin <Orin> constantly on her tail is taking a toll on her and her companions; the fear and resentment all becoming a lot to bear. Alaia is snapped out of her thoughts when she nearly trips over a small pothole in the ground. This is when she glances at her surroundings, now just realizing where she had absentmindedly wandered off to. She stood in the centre of the lower city; the gate to Wyrm's Rock a few hundred feet away from her. The deafening silence is interrupted by the one of other guard wandering the streets with a torch, theirarmour creating a quiet clancking sound. Despite his previous warning, Alaia is inclined to pay the new Archduke a visit. 

<"you my dear Alaia, will find me in my office above when you return with the Netherstone. Do not return empty handed."> 

She is nervous truth be told, though she steps forward closer and closer to the grand entrance. She can sense the guards' eyes on her form; but isn't interrupted as she steps into the Audience Hall once more. Unlike earlier the same day, it's vacant of any life except the steel watchers and guards. She makes her way to the spiral staircase right outside the hall, slowly ascending to where Enver mentioned he'd be staying. When she arrives at the top, she's greeted with a beautiful view over the city, and some small traps played out across the stone flooring. She's quick and nimble, her rogue ways easily allowing her to avoid certain death until she finally stands before s great wooden door. Though strength is one of her weaknesses, she manages to push it open far enough for her body to squeeze through the gap, allowing her access to the tyrant's quarters. She is greeted with the scent of vanilla and sandalwood; the large room decorated someone ornately, not as much as she expected however. Four steel watchers stand against the stone walls alongside a handful of golden masked individuals. Alaia quickly came to the conclusion that these were banites serving their God's chosen, their eyes piercing and analysing her as if she were a threat. Towards the end of the room sits the very chosen himself, his hands carefully gliding over the piano stood near the fireplace. The tune playing is a calm and relaxing, one that isn't entirely familiar to the assassin. As if sensing her presence, he pauses his melodic playing; turning his head half in her direction. 

"I warned you not to return empty handed, did I not?" 

He inquires, though his voice isn't laced with danger as one may suspect. Instead there's amusement that resdistes from his smooth velvety voice. 

"What if I'm not empty handed?" 

Alaia retorts half playfully, stepping forward carefully to approach the man by the piano. His lips are worked in a confident smirk; eyes as piercing as ever. 

"I highly doubt you managed to strike Orin within four hours, dear." 

The bhaalspawn half elf pauses, a look of irritation crosses her features for a brief moment. Her eyes are trained on Gortash, calculating and analysing. With a faint laugh, he continues: 

"What is the reason for this visit then? Shouldn't you be retrieving Orin's Netherstone? Or have you decided to pledge allegiance to her cause instead of mine?" 

Now he's posses a hint of hostility in his voice, the mere concept of his "nearest and dearest" turning on him filling his very being with anger. 

"Not at all, Gortash. I simply took a walk and well, now I'm here." 

The lord chuckles and shakes his head dismissively, his face softer than earlier. This takes Alaia by suprise; he isn't one for sweet pleasantries. 

"One does not simply appear in my chambers, Alaia. Perhaps something or someone willed you to be here? No matter, now that you're here I wish to speak." 

Relief washes over Alaia; he wasn't going to dispose of her just yet for failing to retrieve the stone. Though, it hadn't even been a day. She presumes that could be the reason for his lacking hostility. 

"Do take a seat, we have much to discuss." 

Stepping towards the lit fireplace; she sits on one of the plush chairs, her body comfortably sinking into the the lavish furniture. She glances at Gortssh as he too takes a seat across from her, his hand neatly folded in his lap, the dim candlelight beautifully illuminating his form.

"You returned knowing you don't posses the stone, there must be a reason no? Perhaps curiosity about your past?" 

"Perhaps, I'm not entirely sure myself if I may be honest." 

She responds, her one brown and one blinded eye trained on the man before her. Even if she will not admit it; he is handsome in a unique sort of way. 

"I'm not surprised, knowing little about one's past must be frustrating. You were fierce, deadly, quick and smart. Always quite pleasant to work with. From what I can tell you've changed little."

Enver smiles, genuine adoration in his eyes as he refers to her past self and the fond memories that come with it. Alaia nods, a hint of s smile on her lips too. Though she doesn't remember, she can sense that he's telling the truth. 

"I assume I was also quite a pain back then?" 

The tyrant chuckles heartedly, his eyes glancing down for s moment before meeting hers once more:

"Especially after some dwarven ale, dear. I presume your companions have also witnessed this now?" 

Alaia with mock offense pouts and crosses her arms 

"Well, yes. The first night after arriving at the last light inn I may have had a few too many drinks. Minthara was far from amused." 

Minthara, that's a name Gortash knows from speaking to Ketheric, who's stone now is within your possession. Gortash leans back on his opulent chair, his gauntleted hand idly tapping the armrest. 

"Despite your annoyances, you were amusing. You found amusement from mere jokes, unlike Orin who butchers families as a pleasurable pastime." 

Orin and Bhaal, two things Alaia hoped this conversation could go without. She sighs.and nods as if taking pity on the butchered families. Enver knows she doesn't, but doesn't regard her feigned pity. 

"I suppose you're quite ready to reclaim your birthright, yes?" 

This is horrible, in reality she doesn't want to serve Bhaal anymore. Her newfound freedom has grown on her, and serving such a monstrous deity is not interesting to her. During her journey, another deity reached out to her; offering her unimaginable power if and only if she turns on her father. This new master could provide Alaia and Gortash's alliance with more power than comprehensible, and the choice of deity would certainly be approved by Gortash's master <Bane>. 

"I'm not entirely sure yet. But that's for another day" 

"I'm sure you're find your calling soon, dear." 

He reassures, his left eyebrow arched and words careful. As much as he desires her taking Orin's  power for herself; Bhaal's interests don't align with Bane's, and would cause mass destruction in Baldur's Gate if it comes into fruition. Alaia sits quietly, glancing around the chambers at the rugs, mounted animal heads, trophies, opulent statues and décor.  Gortash studies Alaia carefully, his eyes flickering over her battered and used black-silver leather armour. The shoulder pads are loose, leather cracked and tearing at multiple spots; overall in a terrible shape. He makes a mental note of this, but one little detail causes a faint smirk to appear on the Tyrant's lips. Aside from her golden septum rings and earrings, she wears a gold-ruby choker that he had gifted her months before her disappearance. He wouldn't tell her this, not yet at least. 

"You should probably return to your companions, they must be wondering on your whereabouts" 

Gortash comments, folding his hands in his lap as he gives Alaia a kind smile. She stands, adjusting her armour before nodding ever so slightly. She was never nervous, though now she is for reasons beyond her. 

"You are welcome here, Alaia. But do locate Orin and bring me her Netherstone as swiftly as possible, or else I'll have to take matter into my own hands." 

He adds with a half threatening tone. He didn't want to have to dispose of her, they had been close for so long. How close, Alaia doesn't remember; Gortash however, surely does. Alaia makes a small gesture with her hand to bid Enver farewell, but before she steps out of his chambers her curiosity gets the better of her. 

"What... Were we, Gortash?" 

She asks carefully, her tone neutral. The question itself makes one of the Banites turn to glance at him, but they quickly take their position again. The lord smirks and approaches his desk, fishing through some undoubtedly important files. With a subtle smirk and wink, he responds: 

"You should return to your companions, dear." 

#smut #bg3 tav #bg3 fanart #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate tav #bg3 durge #gortash x durge #durge #durgetash #lord enver gortash #lord gortash #enver gortash #alaia mar garnan