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y-rhywbeth2 · 1 hour

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Current mood: "I don't see why Ulder was a candidate for the Chosen of Bhaal, he's a dick but's he's not-"

Well now I get it. Because that is Bhaalist PR! That is a Bhaalyn MO! You do vigilante justice for public appeasement, and get people a little closer to Bhaal by having them enjoy killing their neighbours! Killing as socially acceptable entertainment that the government officially is turning a blind eye to!

It is not far off from developing into this:

"The Bhaalist/Bhaalyn observes unfolding life in the city and picks targets to be murdered, often troublemakers..." "[a Bhaalist] captures select people and “rightfully” murders them in on-altar rituals to the god (so, the slayings are not a crime, and the cult works to protect you from arrest by the Watch and any consequences of the killings). As a joining member, you get to name one candidate the cult will kill (i.e. someone you hate or owe coin to)."

Also, as said a few times prior, they tend to infiltrate law enforcement. Congrats on your accidental Bhaalist rituals that strengthen the Lord of Murder, sir.

Considering Ulder's ability to judge rationally and without bias is readily illustrated in him exiling his seventeen year old son on the spot without trying to get his side of the story or doing any investigation... I don't trust his judgement with these illegal hearings either!

#Wyll is officially MY son now.#babbling #I'd say Baldur's Gate deserves Bane and does this to itself but tbh only the Patriars do really #edgelord hours

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animentality · 6 months

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I like love stories.

I hate romance as a genre.

Fuck your happily ever after. I need love that was doomed from the start. I crave the sick and twisted and demented obsession that could only end in one way.

I yearn for love that is destructive, not healing. Or healing, but in a lopsided and grotesque way, where it might have been better to let it die.

I desire death and love tightly intertwined. I admire dark irony and the kind of endings that leave a person stunned and near crying because it's just so unfair and it's just so tragic and it just feels so delicious, it hurt so good.

It was cruel and it was horrible, but it'll stay with you, because within us all lies something wicked, and that part of you must feel seen and heard sometimes.

When I engage with art, I want it to make me think, I want it to make me feel something. I don't feel anything for those coffee shop aus and meet cutes and quirky work romance stories. They're fine and inoffensive, but I want offensive and jarring and dare I say, controversial.

No one writes essays or rants in a discord chat for hours about Hallmark movies.

Romance as a literary genre is a Hallmark movie, just with more sex, white supremacy, and tired gender roles.

How dull.

I'm a fucking edge lord and I absolutely do not care what anyone else thinks of that.

I'll never pick up a book that's marketed as a romance, because I know it'll fail to make me care.

In fact, I'll pick up any other genre than romance, because I know it'll do a love story better than a romance ever could, with that boring ass restriction.

I will read novels where I DONT know if they're gonna make it to the end, where I want them to get together, but maybe they won't.

Even if it angers me, that's still a human emotion, and I engage with art to feel things.

If I wanted to watch two straight white cis people get married and have kids, I'd go knock on my neighbors doors and ask them if I can watch them eat dinner.

That's YOUR romance.

Mine is fantastical and terrible.

#romance #edgelord hours

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freakbleeds · 1 year

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And maybe my shoulders are cracking under this weight and maybe my fingers are purple in the November chill. Maybe I do trace my eyes over this body- still so awkward, marked by growth, by birth, by scrapes with trees and concrete- and maybe I sometimes wonder why there is no scar over my liver where vulture’s beaks tear into me anew each morning, or so it seems, and goddamn I really am a drama queen.

And, and, and maybe chasing my dreams makes me a little girl again, blowing opalescent bubbles into the summer air with soap like glass from fire. I’m a dragon, breathing flame into beauty. I’d flap my arms and hiss, I’ve always been good at making believe. I’m a poet. I string clumsy words together like so many plastic beads, parading graceless strings of nonsense.

#kinda poetry #not fucking close to being poetry actually #edgelord hours

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teencopandthesourwolf · 10 months

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“Derek is socially awkward and kind of aggressive. His personality doesn't help the fact that, as the only known werewolf in a town that's suffering repeated werewolf attacks, he seems very suspicious to scott and his best friend stiles, and to pretty much everyone else.” — charactour.com

(see also: BABYGIRL WHO NEVER DID A THING WRONG EVER)

#i love you pathetic edgelord lycanthrope my beloved <3 #derek hale #babygirl #failwolf posting hours #teen wolf #teen wolf art #teen wolf fanart #derek art #tyler hoechlin #fanart #art #tcats arts #teencopandthesourwolf #sterek #eternal sterek #sterek is eternal

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fragiles0ftheart · 7 days

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I am the lord of loneliness.

#me #personal #mine #s0ftheart #lil baby #edgelord #goth girl #sad boi hours #lil needy baby

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necr0-mantix · 9 months

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// Character Study Drabble: The Meeting

“MY DECREE IS LAW. YOU BEING MY SPAWN DOES NOT EXCUSE YOU FROM IT.”

The other nephalem sheltered behind him, basking - trembling - in awe at the angel that had invaded their sanctum. The light of Inarius’s wings was blinding in the dark of the underground temple, and it seemed that Linarian was the only one who could handle his intensity. He could not blame his students, however. They were younger and had not blossomed to their potential, and Inarius was an overwhelming being to behold.

His father’s intentions were hard to sense, but he felt rage; a rage unlike any he had empathized from the angel prior. And he had felt so much of the negativity Inarius had bottled over the years. This was… new.

Lilith’s betrayal had cut what remained of his father's heart deep.

“Father, I am but a humble scholar. I-” “SILENCE.”

He would obey. For now.

Bowing his head in a show of respect, Linarian’s eyes would glance behind him, his fingers wrapped around the youngest of his student’s - a raven-haired male no more than a decade of winter’s age - to assure him of something. Anything. He could not confess, nor show, that this had unsettled him deeply as well, and to say that it would be okay was a lie he was not willing to give.

“THIS ORDER OF YOURS SHALL DISBAND IMMEDIATELY.” bellowed Inarius, his hand gesturing over the small band of students, “YOUR FOUL MAGICS ARE A RISK TO THIS WORLD.”

“A risk?” Linarian sputtered, “I-I am a healer! How is any of thi-” “I COMMANDED SILENCE AND OBEDIENCE , WHELP.”

And silent he would be once more.

News from the surface found its way underground quite swiftly, and the recent happenings after the death of the ancestors was no exception. Inarius had already spilled the blood of the First that had defied him, and should he speak out of line, he could likely be next. It was surprising that he was not the first, however. The angel held no love for him despite having helped birth him, and he could sense no love nor hesitation even now. Linarian’s stomach churned with anxiety about the angel for the first time in many circles of the moon.

“It shall be as you wish, father.” he would lie hushed. Normally, he would protest, but not at the risk of the others. This was not their typical disagreeance over the matters of Sanctuary, this was something far more dire, and he could and would only press once they were alone.

All he could do was turn to offer his followers a reassuring smile, a gentle nod. The eldest of the group would know his intention - they had spoken of potential emergencies prior - and the rest would come to know and find where to gather away from prying eyes. All that mattered was allowing them to escape, even if Inarius seemed to have no wanting for them.

The sound of metal striking stone reverberated through the sanctum as Inarius stepped forwards instead of simply flying, stopping to stand beside Linarian without expression. The holy one’s cloaked face, devoid of anything as with all angels, would glance down upon the child that clung to Linarian’s side, and he would let out an echo of a sigh — long and exasperated.

“IS THIS ONE OF YOUR BLOOD?”

A terrifying question. The child shook, and Linarian could do nothing more than hold his hand to comfort quietly. Even a mere question intimidated himself at such an age.

“No. He is not. None of my children are here. Nor my partners. I am the only one of my family here.”

“GOOD. THE RABBLE MAY LEAVE. I WISH TO SPEAK TO MY SON, ALONE.”

The communal tide of relief was euphoric.

But the sensation of goodbye? He could feel it from some of the others as their eyes met his, some with tears welling. He did not know that as he bowed his head, his too were dampened with confusion and fear. For goodbyes were not supposed to be hard for their kind, and yet, this one felt as if it could be more than so. It was so very hard to tell.

He would fight with words to ensure it wasn’t.

Ushering the child towards one of his most trusted, he would watch as they scattered. Some went the direction of the surface, and others would make their way deeper into the caverns under the temples. It did not matter where so long as it was not here. They would find their way, and so long as they obeyed his father, he would not come to harm them. Inarius, much as his mother, enjoyed their worship, at the least, and would bask in it for as long as possible.

It was once the scurried footsteps ceased that Inarius would speak once more, prompting Linarian’s mournful state to melt to a blank slate of sheer apathy, mentally preparing himself for an exchange he knew would be far more pressing than their former ones.

“THE WORLD IS MINE AND MINE ALONE NOW,” the angel would begin, his arms and wings outstretched in celebration, “AND THAT MEANS IT’S FUTURE AND YOU AND YOUR OFFSPRING’S SURVIVAL HAS COME TO MY DECISION,”

A horrific statement, but Linarian would listen without any acknowledgement.

“YOUR STUDY. I HAD PAID ATTENTION, CHILD. YOU ARE OF THE WORLD, AND THUS, THE WORLD STONE AFFECTS YOU JUST AS IT AFFECTS THE WORLD.” What had he done? There was no possible way to mask his curiosity — a brow cantered, and his head would nod just once. He had discovered that, yes. They were dirt, as Inarius had so called them several times; molded from the very clay of Sanctuary itself. It was the most basic of observations, and one of his first dealing with matters of their deaths.

“IF YOUR KIN ARE TO THRIVE IN MY WORLD, THEY SHALL NOT HOLD POWER THAT WOULD ATTRACT EYES FROM HELL NOR HEAVEN. AND THUS, I HAVE ENSURED IT TO BE SO. YOUR KIND HAS BEEN SPARED BY MY BLESSING.”

“...what… did you do?” Linarian questioned with a rasping hiss, his heart pounding with a swelling anger that rivaled the angel’s own from just moment’s prior.

“YOU DO NOT PAY ATTENTION. THE WORLD STONE. I HAVE USED IT. ARE YOU TOO DENSE TO HAVE NOT NOTICED HOW THE POWERS OF THE OTHERS HAVE CHANGED? ALL BUT YOU AND YOUR SIBLINGS."

He had noticed. And he had noticed the deaths of some his siblings as well. He had felt the sting continually through the week before the news had been relayed to him from above, but the reason had not reached him until not long before his father’s arrival. Death happened, and he mourned each time he had felt it over the years when he could not visit, but it was clear Inarius was to fault. The betrayal was not unexpected, but he could not show the pain outwardly, and suppressed it even now for his own welfare.

“Yes, father. But, what good is stripping us of our power for? That is our birthright, and all we have built is-”

“YOUR. SAFETY.”

“I do not understand. Is this about your fear of being discovered? Again, what good would having us be weak do? Are we not to defend ourselves? What is there t-” “YOU DO NOT LISTEN WELL, AS USUAL. YOU ARE ALL ABOMINATIONS. IF YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN BEASTS, YOU WILL NOT IRK THE IRE OF-”

“Who? Yourself? Are you to say that all of your kind, and all of mother’s, would find us as revolting? If we are even to be found?”

The searing heat of Inarius’s golden wing wrapped around his torso, lifting him from the ground as if he were nothing more than a doll. He could easily tear through the tendril and free himself - his strength had not diminished in the slightest - but he did not. He chose not to. There was no sense, at this time, in struggling. The nephalem’s anxiety still stirred within him, but he would not show it still, he could not.

“IF. IF YOU ARE TO BE FOUND, YOU ARE TO SURVIVE. THAT IS ALL THAT MATTERS. THAT IS WHAT YOUR DAMNED MOTHER WANTED, AND DESPITE HER BETRAYAL, I WILL HONOR HER LAST WISH AS IT IS ONE AND MINE THE SAME.”

The grip tightened. And it was a grasp far more intense than any he had been held in prior during the angel’s bouts. The crack of rib would make Linarian wince in pain and bleed from the mouth, enough to signal for the angel to drop him to his knees. There was no aura of regret for the seemingly accidental exertion; Linarian would heal, and he did as he always had. It only took seconds for him to regain his breath, and for the bone to mend under flesh. It only took a moment longer for him to resume his argument after spitting aside the blood, trying not to distract himself with the taste of it lingering.

“I understand that-” “GOOD.” “But what of my kind? What of me? Am I not to aid my kin? And of my studies, I am so close to breakthroughs! To understanding how our souls work!” “NOT WITH YOUR POWERS. TEND TO YOUR POISONS AND MEDICINES IF YOU WILL. WATCH YOUR DEAD ROT. I CARE NOT. YOU WILL DO NOTHING THAT INDICATES THAT YOU HAVE THE POWER YOU DO. I WILL NOT ASK AGAIN.”

“Bu-”

It seemed that Inarius would not debate him this time, even for entertainment and the chance of lecturing him as was in years past. Two wings would unfurl this time, one wrapping around his neck and the other his ribs again, and a sword of light would be summoned to his hand with an instantaneous flash and hum. It pointed at him, unwavering. And as the tendril seared exposed flesh, Linarian felt death approaching him, his eyes settled on his father’s blade with a dread that he had only felt through other’s before in their final moments.

Inarius fully intended to kill should he not submit. But kill him he had not. The angel kept his son in the torturous state for seconds that felt like minutes, tossing Linarian this time to the cold ground with monstrous force. It was a warning, and one that he was now listening to closely.

The nephalem felt himself grow limp; he was left paralyzed in a pool of his own blood, even if only temporarily. His thoughts grew quiet. Nobody, not even he, could continue under the duress of such pain.

“I WILL DO UNTO YOU AS I HAVE DONE THE OTHERS THAT HAVE DEFIED ME. DO NOT CONTINUE TO BE A DISAPPOINTMENT TO ME, CHILD.”

And with that, it seemed Inarius was done. The sword would disappear from whence it came, and the angel would turn his back, taking one glance back upon his child, who in turn, could barely manage to make out his father’s actions under the haze of blurring vision. Linarian would attempt to reach forwards without thought, but could not muster more than a twitch as the angel’s wings outstretched once more, propelling him forwards to leave the temple, and his son, in complete and utter silence. The debate was over as quickly as it had attempted to be began.

The first thing, other than pain as his senses began to spur once more, the nephalem could feel was more death from the far distances of their world. Inarius had gone to speak to the others.

And arguments were ensuing, and ending swiftly. One after another. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

#diablo 4 #rathma #inarius #tw: physical abuse #tw: blood #tw: typical diablo edgelord stuff #one hour unedited blorbo for working on past verse stuff #it's 6am and i'm on no sleep it's a thing of questionable quality #maybe fix this up later

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y-rhywbeth2 · 3 days

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...Did not read Vampire of the Mists expecting to walk out with the likely not Realmslore or larger D&D compliant headcanon that Bhaal invented vampirism, but here we are.

Right so there's a solid chance that this was the Dark Powers that govern the Ravenloft setting, and Strahd has multiple backstory variations (I think?) butI mean, gods can present themselves a little differently to different worlds, the slight shift in focus of murder+ isn't that odd. Bane has in fact been dabbling across the planes since pre-Time of Troubles, so the other two idiots could definitely have gotten in on it. And - in one version of this story - the origin of vampirism is a voice that sounds like death, describes itself as:

"...every nightmare every creature has ever had. I am the dark thoughts of murder and treachery, of fear and lust and obscenity and violation. I am the cutting word that kills the soul and the bloody knife that kills the body. I am the poison at the bottom of the cup, the noose around the thief’s neck, the cry of the wronged, and the shriek of the tortured. I am the lie. I am the black pit of madness. I am Death and all things worse."

(And you know, Bhaal definitely has lust, obscenity and violation going for him recently. And a little earlier, what the fuck is with the attraction spell sir.) and then says use a dagger - wielded by an assassin cult with the name "Ba'al" in it, whose symbol is a bloody skull, who run protection rackets and seek political power - and go commit a murder for me (enjoy it).

And be transformed one of the most deliberately murderous undead - the most human and able to grasp the horror they inflict, sustained by acts of murder, whose instincts work a lot like Bhaal and the Bhaalspawn, tbh.

Like, Toril is part of the background in this novel, but I don't actually think this was deliberate. I am still maybe going to keep the idea on the shelf. But Bhaal, if I find out you've been doing dimensional-temporal shenanigans and created Strahd (and thus, according to some accounts, invented vampirism itself)...

(It's also kind of funny to imagine Bhaal creating the first vampire and amusing himself watching, and then suddenly these mists descend and yoink all of Barovia off the map. "Huh. Weird. Anyway! Hey, Myrkul, look what I invented!")

#Headcanon Bhaal you owe Hexxat and Astarion - and pretty much everyone else - for emotional damages you know this right?#imo undeath suits Bhaal better as a theme than the other two. Bane is life; Myrkul is death; Bhaal stands between the two states #That description also sounds a bit Cyric-y to me #babbling #edgelord hours #the idiot three

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ruckis--rookie · 4 months

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soooo how did Gera do? is he still alive?

If this is in reference to D&D, yes! I'm assuming this is about D&D.

I'm gonna go into the gorey details beneath a cut, but to give you an idea of how scary it got...

He had to kill an undead beholder 4 times over, he killed an adult Solar Dragon with some help by literally eating its heart out, and he took down a Solar (angelic celestial being) in 1 turn.

The last fight he went up against a PC who is a bounty hunter, specifically made with the goal of being able to kick our party's ass in mind. Gera is level 22 (going into prestige levels) and the guy was CR 21. The Hunter was also made by a good anonymous friend of mine who's been doing D&D for years and has a track record of making SCARY asf characters. The only reason Gera won was because of technicality, and it changed an entire Arenth law.

He won not because he killed the guy as intended because it was a battle to the death, but because he had endured and outlasted him. The Hunter, as we've been calling him, strained himself and exhausted all of his stuff causing him to collapse. Gera had won, but just barely. He was bloodied, bruised, and had about 40 or so out of his 399 HP left. Completely ran through most of his good healing options.

Now, for the exciting details! I hope you enjoy ^^

The third round of what was supposed to be 10 consisted of an undead beholder, which admitted gave Gera more trouble than the displacer beast.

Perhaps the most annoying part was the fact that it kept succeeding constitution saves and getting back up with 1 HP. It wasn't until Gera tried wedging its mouth open with a sword to climb inside; to allow himself to be ripped apart out of sheer annoyance, that it finally went down. To which he started throwing a fit because the one time he didn't want it dead is when it finally stops moving... he was also effectively lobotomized by one of its beams and Gera is very much not happy because it ruined his pride and joy, his hair. His visage has been ruined.

So we move on to the fourth round after Naga, the king, was told that it was a stupid idea to include an undead in the arena. This time it's a space elf whom Gera attempted to be cheeky and make small talk to. At one point or another she had said that she was "just waiting for someone to kill me" to which Gera responded "perhaps I can help you out on that front". She had good reason, a Solar Dragon was attached to her. Those things can be parasites, literally eating suns. Gera swiftly made a move and stunned her, and using our battle system and certain manuevers, he stabbed her in the heart and then decapitated her.

Before her death she had warned them of the dragon and Gera was told to stop, then he had informed them that he was told to help kill the dragon. The others rushed into the arena to help kill an adult Solar Dragon.

...which we desecrated before it could even attack. The others had managed to pin it down and stun it, which Gera took full advantage of and disemboweled it. He started mowing through its intestines with his swords all the way to it's heart, where he started eating it alive from the inside out. He started with the central arteries and ate his way around, having gotten about halfway through before Solga (another one of our party members) used it's chest cavity as a punching bag and caused the heart to spill out with Gera in it like the thing was a damn cradle.

At that point Naga having unwittingly made two vital mistakes allowed Gera to skip right to the last two fights, as an apology for making him go through hell within the first 4 rounds. The second to last was against a Solar, a highly revered representative of Arenthal's evil snake god Sseth.

^^ not exactly what the dude looked like but this is official art of a Solar. The guy Gera was up against looked more like a fallen celestial and had four wings.

Now this one I nearly had a heart attack over because one hit from this guy's arrow and it took our 100+ of my HP immediately. The guy also had a sentient sword in which he placed directly below him. I'm not kidding when I say I won out of a combination of getting lucky and smart strategy. Gera cemented his role as the Deadshot of the D&D world by dismembering two wings on the same side of this guy with two arrow shots, causing this guy to spiral downward. He followed that up with a headshot while the Solar was spiraling, in before he was impaled on his own sword stake style and killed. There was utter silence from the crowd, having seen this small creature down one of their greatest defenders in six seconds. They were afraid. It didn't help when Gera snapped his neck over to look at the crowd. Eyes completely white, glowing white liquid dripping from his maw. He started giggling, which delved into mad cackling. It was at that point that Naga realized, thy quote, "That's no man... that's a monster."

Gera sauntered over to the sword that was left behind, picking it up an examining it. It spoke to him. "You're not my master." Gera just chuckled and shook his head no, responding. "I'm afraid your master messed with someone far above his pay grade." The sword replied, "I'm going to have to ask you to let me go." Gera looks up towards the nobles booth, then back at the sword. With a grin and a simple "okay" he spun around and slingshot the sword towards the booth, throwing it so hard that it stuck into the magical barrier preventing the crowd from getting hurt. Gera was ushered back to the cage where he calmly approached. Paused for a moment. Took a deep breath, closed his eyes... and when he opened them next they were back to normal. A sweet innocent smile resting on his face.

There wasn't anything too noteworthy about the last fight, a lot of it was just chaotic baloney that had us cackling. Gera knew range would either be his friend or his enemy with The Hunter, this guy was fast. If he could slow him down via nerve shots he'd be in the clear. But unfortunately all of his arrow shots didn't work out for him, the man was too quick. He tried setting up his echo and a mirror Image to protect himself... got his head kicked in, echoes destroyed and mirror images wiped. So it was clear that range wasn't at all his friend. So then Gera decided if range wasn't his friend, he would have to prevent The Hunter from getting any farther. So he clung to him like a cat trying not to touch water. Chaos ensued. Truth be told Gera didn't have a plan after that but he noticed that the more energy The Hunter expended trying to get him off the more exhausted he started to look. So he figured it was a game of endurance and he was determined to endure and outlast.

It ended up working out for him! Just barely. For the first time in Arenth history they had to adjust the rules. Gera won. And for the first time in years Sseth made his presence known to bless Gera. He healed him up for a descent amount and Gera was set free.

The first thing he did was make a beeline to get a nice relaxing bath.

#ruckis borks #mail found under the secret rock #very excited for next session its gonna be Gera edgelord and angst hours #I'm also gonna see what her commission availability is lookin like I want a Gera swt #I got that crimmy money

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freakbleeds · 1 year

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The genderfuck urge to rip the heads off pink teddy bears, listen to Slipknot, and completely ignore pointless hallmark card holidays

#diaries of a recently heartbroken skeptic #fuck off with the hearts and the bad quality chocolate and the cheesy music #i absolutely fucking hate valentines day #edgelord hours #kali rambles

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catcatb0y · 2 years

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Me, on break at work: Okay, yeah I just need a pick me up. Tumblr do your thing, give me something cute or fun to think about while I work.

Still me: But NOT leaks. Anything but leaks. I unfollowed everyone who posts about leaks, so my dash is down line forty percent of the serotonin that it had, becausd even BakuDeku and their mom posts leaks.

Me: I do NOT want to see leaks.

Tumblr, every fucking time: Oh hey! You might want to see this:

Tumblr: It's your old mutual posting leaks!!