dirty in every direction.

multi rp. nsft & private. 21+ only. sideblog.

[bloodblame]

fantasy multi-muse rp blog. nsft & selective. 21+ only. follows from @sunmad.

affiliated with @soulspoil

Currently featured:

the witch of izalith (dark souls)

lord gwyn's firstborn (dark souls)

old hunter father gascoigne (bloodborne)

maekar targaryen (akotsk)

[beastlyidiocy]

PLAGUE HIS HOLY BODY

[shisasan]

Colette Gauthier-Villars, The Collected Stories of Colette

[cheddar-baby]

Im pregnant and its mine #illhavewhatimhaving

[nobodyschnobody]

You wouldn't know my name she goes to another school

[wolfythewitch]

the view between villages (odyssey animatic)

[bridalshowerss]

the look on his face. the disbelief and morbid fascination and fear and understanding and disappointment. chills.

[absolventiia]

@bloodblame (maekar) liked for a starter in aurane's akotsk verse.

while aurane did bring armor to the tourney -- it was expected, as a prince of the realm -- he did not expect to do anything more than watch the others. but he also did not expect aerion to break a woman's finger and then get bested by a hedge knight.

this visit with family has brought more surprises than aurane could have asked for, including -- " you wish for me to fight with you. in the trial. " it is a statement, not a question. maybe he should have expected it, and was stupid to think that he could escape such a thing. they would want a united front to back aerion, and that, of course, included daeron and aurane. there is no escaping it now, but the prince does try. he keeps his voice low, his hands clasped behind his back as he stands in front of maekar. " father, i have no true experience with such things. " he begins, but his voice is weak. he knows it is a losing argument. " i may do nothing more but be a hinderance, and in matters such as these, it should be important that aerion have the best of men at his side. " but was aurane not one of those ? or, more of a failure in argument, even daeron is participating. should he not join, as well ? aurane swallows. " kostilas, kepus. i have no wish for this. aerion should not mind if i abstain. "

[bloodblame]

His father’s disapproval glowers back at him like a fortress wall, portcullis and moat. Despite being several years younger than Baelor, Maekar’s face is lined and furrowed, the embers of frustration always glinting, ready to burst into an inferno. Not since his wedding night has his jaw ever unclenched. He is a frustrated man, the prince. And one need not wonder long as to why.

“I care nothing for your wishes,” he retorts. “You will ride in the trial and that is the end of the matter. I am saddled with drunks and cowards for sons, is that the truth of it? You will fight because Aerion is your brother. And because you will be honored to have this chance to prove your loyalty to your family.” This is hardly a prediction; it is a command.

Maekar fixes his son with a grim stare before he finally lets his broad shoulders sag. It isn’t as if he doesn’t know of the absurdity of this entire affair. If Aerion wanted satisfaction paid by the gallon, he should have dispatched the hedge knight himself in proper combat. His son chose spectacle over principle, and this is the way of it now.

“Blood bids us, Aurane. You cannot be seen standing aside when our House is insulted. You have no experience, you say. Then it is high time you glean some. And, gods willing, your participation will absolve us of the shortcomings that Daeron shall deliver.”

[dekutree]

*dad voice* absolutely not

[nobodyschnobody]

If I were perhaps more prone to the nonsensical, I would describe my life as one so absurd it could only be fiction-- a bard's tale to be passed on through generations. What a thought! Alas, it is just the gods that conspire against me and my own shitty luck

[catilinas]

oh hey um we kinda damnatio memoriae-ed your boyfriend. yeah we chiselled his name off all the inscriptions and everything. he’s ███ ██ ████ ██████ now. sorry.

[anchovy]

Everyone got that one friend that was a failed vessel for something greater 🤣🤣🤣

[weusedtobegiants]

My story gets told in various ways: a romance, a dirty joke, a war, a vacancy.

Rumi, from The Essential Rumi tr. Coleman Barks

[thunderousmemes]

  𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒 — 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

(obsession, ruin, twisted devotion, and the kind of love that bruises)

POSSESSIVE • “MINE EVEN WHEN YOU RUN”

• “Walk out that door and I swear I’ll drag you right back.” • “Don’t look at them. Look at me.” • “You’re not leaving. Not without me.” • “You knew I was dangerous when you touched me.” • “Keep pretending you don’t want me. I like watching you fail.” • “If you run, I will find you.” • “Come here. Now. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

OBSESSION • UNHEALTHY DEVOTION

• “I’d destroy myself for you… isn’t that what you wanted?” • “Tell me you hate me—say it like your hands aren’t shaking.” • “I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s becoming a problem.” • “You ruin me, and I still crawl back.” • “We’re wrong together… but gods, we fit.” • “If you leave, I’ll follow. I always do.” • “You’re the only addiction I never tried to quit.”

MANIPULATION • POWER GAMES

• “Call it manipulation if you want. I call it control.” • “Careful. I know every lie you’ve ever told.” • “You don’t trust me? Good. You shouldn’t.” • “I never said you couldn’t leave. I just said you wouldn’t.” • “You’re trembling—don’t pretend it’s fear.” • “I like watching you try to resist me.” • “You depend on me more than you think.”

PUSH/PULL • CAN’T STAY, CAN’T LEAVE

• “Every time I get close, you run. Yet here you are again.” • “We’re toxic… but I can’t breathe without this.” • “I should stay away from you. So why am I here?” • “Hate me all you want—you still want me.” • “We destroy each other, slowly.” • “Tell me why you always come back.” • “Push me one more time and see what breaks first—me or you.”

BETRAYAL • LIES • PAINFUL LONGING

• “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me. You lied.” • “Don’t act surprised—betrayal is how we communicate.” • “You used me… and I let you.” • “You weren’t supposed to fall for me. That wasn’t part of the deal.” • “You stabbed me in the back and still expect to be forgiven?” • “We lied to each other. And we’re still here.” • “If you want the truth… I never planned on letting you go.”

TOXIC SOFTNESS • DANGEROUS COMFORT

• “Stay with me. Even if it ruins us.” • “I hate how gentle you are with me.” • “Don’t look at me like that… I’ll break.” • “You make me want things I shouldn’t.” • “I should push you away. I won’t.” • “You feel like home—and that terrifies me.” • “I’m bad for you… but you keep choosing me.”

 DAMAGE • BREAKING POINTS

• “If this burns, then let it burn all the way down.” • “We’re killing each other softly.” • “Tell me when to stop. I probably won’t.” • “If you want me gone, you’ll have to shove harder than that.” • “Maybe we’re not meant to heal.” • “You bring out the worst in me.” • “Let’s ruin each other properly.”

[shetheyslain]

I’m pregnant and it’s no one’s

#selfish

[bloodblame]

By his stillness, she knows. The silence that precedes his words is as heavy as an iron lock upon his mind. Whatever he does not say is the truth, and what he does is careful flattery. The dying of the Flame has left the Witch colder, suspicious. It stands true: Gwyn's conspiracy has stained her further. She hoards all her riches to her, counts her treasures as a dragon upon its pile of gold. this is no time for mercy and benevolence, no time for good faith. She marks those that follow in her train. She digs her nails into the armrests of her throne all the harder for every breath of hesitance.

Now she must look on as the Commander absconds with a crown jewel. It is him her ire meets head-on, but he is not deserving of it. She knows, she knows. Still eyes watch him sweat, melt into his armor. If he had been anyone lesser, of no status and standing, she could have turned the arrangement around. —Give me that man of yours, and I shall see him treated like royalty as my daughter's groom, in my halls. But Gwyn is shrewd and for all his regard for her, withered and wilted, he knew to yank the chain. Her daughter shall be taken from her, and held as collateral, while she kindles her beloved Chaos anew.

"A tale, indeed," She drones back, sinking into her high seat as she stares down at the knight. "'Tis not I who need be reminded. Thou'rt proud and noble and I've no doubt that thou art rightfully so. Thy deeds are many. This shan't be a deed of that sort, Commander. Thou thinkest of my daughter as a fine prize that thou wilt be worthy of by her joy. 'Tis to thy credit that her joy should be so brilliant, as thou hast not yet done what ritual demandeth." She lifts a hand to prevent any startling on his part. "I have heard much and more. Thou'st not lain with her in my realm. Thou'st not felt her flame." It isn't a question.

"Once thou'st been bedded, once this love of thine groweth hotter, thou mightst forget what I tell thee now, but I shall tell thee all the same: She is not thine. She shall ne'er be so, as long as thou heelst to thy master. She is Gwyn's. He hath bought her. And he hath seen fit to bestow her 'pon thee. Know that he should just as easily take her from thee again. She shall never be safe in thy beloved Light, no matter who standeth at her side. And yet, it shall be thee alone who wilt answer for her suffering and all her pain, as if thine own hand dealt it. This is my warning to thee. Thou shouldst do well to heed it, good knight."

[confessthysiins]

Make no mistake: though it is ice-cold, antithetical to the very world whose bowels they meet in, this is Her fury. Her impassive face, hewn not from obsidian but vein-streaked marble, does not betray the frigid venom of her words. Yes, this is Her realm, sweltering with flame; but it will be made as winter should She wish it so. And indeed, though this room is wreathed in an endless occult blaze, the Commander’s divine blood cannot help but run cold.  A shiver climbs decisively up the nape of his neck, freezing every beading drop of sweat on his skin. Every ounce of defiance in him freezes. Not because of Her great ire, but because of the sharp astuteness of her admonishments - for as incensed as the Witch’s heart might be, She is not so weak as to let such a base thing cloud Her godly judgement, not so desperate as to speak of the hypothetical, of perceived slight or mere rumor. No, every viciously articulated word, every warning She imparts to him is Truth. 

But the Commander is confident; in the love he bears for his betrothed, and that which she bears for him in turn. And so he does not falter.

“ You are magnanimous to advise me so, O Lord, though I am but Your lesser. ” He places a hand upon his silver breastplate as if in oath. “ I shan’t neglect Your humbling guidance, and will keep it unneringly in heart and mind both. ”

How could he forget? Even should he try, the Witch’s tongue has sowed it’s miserable little seed of doubt. Though behind Her pale lips lie viper’s fangs that, he is certain, long to sink into his soul, Lord Izalith is not cruel - at least not in this moment. The hesitation She sought to lay upon him blooms in his psyche like briarthorn precisely because it is right. It is true that though the bond he and Miriam have forged throughout the three nights they have spent together in this underworld’s chambers is one of sincere affection, there remains aught he knows he must do. And it is true also, though Oswald is loathe to admit it, that his beloved is not a prize, a gift from his benevolent Lord, but a prisoner of almighty machinations which neither of them can hope to fathom. As quickly as they were bound, so they could be parted, the tender shackles of their matrimony severed without a second thought by their celestial masters.

Oh, how unjust a fate, that they should be mere pawns to aeon-lasting schemes! If only he could take his cherished Miriam away, to a place beyond the reach of the Earth, the reach of the Sun. But there exists no such place, and from their fate no salvation. Still, this thorny dread, this naïve hope, all but proclaim one thing: their love, too, must be just as true. For why else would the thought of sacrificing it fill him with such distress?  Enlightenment slows the Silver Knight’s movements as he rises to his feet. The fear-full serpent in his throat is made to slither back to its black nest; decorum must be maintained, and his pride prompts him to conceal even the barest token of weakness.

“ My Lord commands me to bring Your dear daughter to His domain in sunlit Anor Londo, that we may be wed in the fashion of His subjects. I must beseech You, though I know well it is not my place to do so, not to hold in Your wisest of hearts excessive displeasure with me. ”

The onyx halls click beneath his greaves as he takes a step back, the echo repeating in the throne room just as Izalith’s warnings echo in the Commander’s mind. “ So my Lord Gwyn has decreed, and I must obey. But I give You my word, O Lord, that no harm shall befall Your most precious daughter, and that all who would dare but speak ill of her will incur my most bitter wrath. ” For the last time, the Iron Raven bows before the great Lord Witch. “ I am grateful for the boon of Your audience, and remain forever Your servant. ”

[weusedtobegiants]

We had no time for death. The war plus the Apocalypse plus eternal life made death ridiculous. Death/life. What did it matter as long as you had your soul?

Jeanette Winterson, from Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal