𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗿𝗯 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗿𝗼𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗲'𝘀 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆. And it is excruciating. On his chest, one can trace its ugly mark, the brand less discoloration and more, unfortunately, a deep-grooved scar. It is unavoidable and impossible to ever miss. Similarly, the way it eats at him is obvious, too. Gale, especially at the start, when his condition, fresh and disorienting, was still abundantly new, the effects of the orb were frighteningly worse. At that time, he little knew how to quell it, that feeding off the Weave would balm the pain, and so for all those days and weeks of panic, he rotted and ached at a terrible pace. He had decayed. And he had bled. Gale's body oozed black, skin, especially at his casting arm, rupturing like cracks in terracotta. He tasted filth always, the bitterness of wasting flesh thick in his throat, nose perpetually leaking with the ink-dark of bleeding. He'd labored to breathe, a feeling like devouring maggots pulsing in his chest. In fact, at the lowest point by then, wallowing and stuck in his tower, Gale began to lose hair, his nails loose and cracking as he scrabbled at the floorboards, knees weak and pain bolting when he collapsed to the floor. He was a pitiful sight. And a worrying one. And even now, with the consumption of magical artefacts, one can still see the way he bows to the blight, heaving for breath when it takes his chest again, sweat at his temples and mouth gone dry. It's all-encompassing. The agony is chronic. It feels like being eaten, being hollowed to his barest self right from the inside. He's a vessel of magic, and the orb means to consume him down to his every last molecule, teeth bared, hackles raised, and appetite crushing. It's like--dying, stolen away to be but swallowed down whole, surrendering to the suck of a hungering vortex. He's unsightly. As well, too, as a burden, he thinks, to the very naked of his bones. But when someone hangs back, touches him despite his rot, he thinks, you shouldn't have to handle something like this. This mere shamble of a graveyard--he's so sorry to dirty their hands.
for the people saying gojo should've just been permanently injured/sidelined I think ultimately death was the better option because imo nothing would've satisfied gojo short of death. he's been looking for an all in fight his entire life!!! he got it!!! he knew there was only going to be one survivor. he said it himself he's glad it wasn't old age. I still think it should've been kenjaku though smh now THAT would've been yaoi
Minsc (to ascended Astarion, warning stupid sexy vampire lord Astarion that he isn't fooled): Do not think your twinkly-eyed wiles will work on us, vampire lord.
Astarion: Oh, I know I could never tempt you, but maybe your little friend would like to perch on a more elegant shoulder?
Minsc (Scandalised, but also way too specific about Astarion's hair for someone who hasn't thought about it before): Do not look into his eyes, Boo! Think not of nesting in his thick and downy mane!
Astarion: You'll never know unless you try. Just once? Maybe you'll like it.
i know i headcanon Foul Legacy to have pretty sparkly wings instead of a cape but consider: if he does have a cape, do y'all think it would be detachable? mostly because i wanna snuggle in it so baaaad :,D
just imagine Foul Legacy finding you when you're so exhausted that you fell asleep at your desk, papers scattered everywhere and pen still in your hand. he whines so softly, looking anxiously around the room- he doesn't want to move you since you've had trouble sleeping at all lately, but you're bound to get cold once the sun sets. so he does the first thing that pops into his head, unhooking his shimmering cape and placing it gently over your shoulders. you shift instinctively and snuggle into the fabric, grasping it in your sleep, and Childe has to hold himself back from cooing in adoration.
he leaves for a moment to fetch more blankets, draping a couple more over you and fashioning a makeshift nest beside your desk so he can curl up next to you. carefully he tugs your limp hand into his hair, purring with delight when it settles in his ginger locks. Archons, you're not even awake and your presence alone comforts him so- past Childe would've scolded present Childe silly for being so head over heels in love, but he doesn't care. Foul Legacy burrows into his little nest with a soft croon, drifting off with the knowledge that you were right here and not going anywhere.
when you wake up, it's dark outside, the thought of all the lost hours making you groan. idly you turn your head to the side and your gaze lands on a slumbering Foul Legacy, curled into a tight ball next to your desk. when you stand something slips from your shoulders, the blankets and night-colored cloak pooling at your feet, and with a small smile you pick up the cape and sit next to Childe, petting his hair. he lets out a sleepy rumble and shifts closer, and you wrap his cape around yourself once more, snuggling into Childe's embrace.
formerly an essay in tags but - billie lurk. half-nameless, misremembered woman. her powers derived from the things taken from her, without any catharsis or empowerment. the rat charm, tied with deidre's hair, her lover's voice in the mouth of rats. her arm and eye, taken, given back only to cause her chronic pain, then lost again. foresight seems a cruel gift for a woman who botched the timing of her takeover of the whalers, and bet wrong when it came to delilah.
she never bore the outsider's blessing; his first visit to her was more like an assault. every other dishonored POV character gets the choice to be selfish, and for that selfishness to mean something, but billie's actions have no effect on the world at large, either, in a game without a chaos system.
some say that corvo is the ghost, but he can reach out and change things. billie's buried herself twice and come back and nothing she does seems to matter - she is less a protagonist, more a convenient full stop in the narrative.
try this: open doto, start a new game. sit in her cabin. notice how little of billie there is. even the woman she loved more than anyone has the face of another named character.
she sits amongst the assets of other games: empty canvases and a dressmaker's mannequin that wears nothing.
Shiro's gone so I decided to self destruct and go on a spoiler binge via TikTok 😌✨. All I've accomplished is give myself even more anxiety about Shiro 😌✨. So I'm doing this whole self destructing thing perfectly 😌✨.
So Lili, my 8 y-o, is spending the night at her grandma's
and they get ice cream after dinner
and she has one with chocolate and nuts and it's delicious and she really enjoys it
and then she learns that the tasty bits are Turles
and apparently she's never seen Turtles candy, so she thinks she has eaten turtles and they were delicious and she's so upset she's almost in tears, and demands to call home
So grandma, who is trying to reassure her and not getting through at all, calls us, and Lili tearfully confesses with GREAT GUILT and then we have to contain our laughter long enough to assure her that no, she hasn't eaten Donatello, those aren't actually made of turtles.
She was crying in distress, I'm crying laughing, what the fuck-