#Morally Conflicted Characters

[joncronshawauthor]

Why We Love Characters Who Walk the Line Between Hero and Villain

The most compelling characters aren’t those who walk in light or shadow. They’re the ones who stride the razor’s edge between. There’s something magnetically human about watching someone navigate that precarious balance. Perhaps it’s because it reflects our own internal struggles with morality. Soren’s Transformation in Guild of Assassins My novel Guild of Assassins explores this tension…

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

💀 Making Your Villain Make Sense (Without Making Them Right™)

("because if I see one more war criminal with a sad diary entry get a redemption arc, I’m gonna throw my laptop.")

Here’s the thing: your villain doesn’t need to be redeemable. But they do need to make sense.

And I mean sense beyond "they’re evil and they monologue about it." Or “they have a tragic past, so now they do murder <3.” Or “they were right all along, the hero just couldn’t see it 🥺.”

Let’s fix that.

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🧠 STEP ONE: BUILD A LOGIC SYSTEM THAT ISN’T OURS Your villain shouldn’t just be wrong, they should have their own internal system that works for them. Morally flawed? Absolutely. But coherent.

Ask yourself:

What do they value more than anything? (Power? Order? Loyalty? Vengeance?)

What do they believe about the world, and how did they get there?

What fear drives them? What future do they think they’re trying to prevent?

The villain doesn’t need to know they’re wrong. But you should.

Make their logic airtight. even if it’s awful. Give them cause and effect.

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👿 STEP TWO: STOP GIVING THEM THE BETTER IDEOLOGY Listen. I love a “morally gray” moment as much as anyone. But if your villain is making all the good points and the hero’s just like “no because that’s mean,” your arc is upside down.

If your villain is critiquing injustice, oppression, or inequality, make sure their methods are the problem, not their entire worldview.

✖︎ WRONG: Villain: “The ruling class is corrupt.” Hero: “That’s not nice.”

✔︎ RIGHT: Villain: “The ruling class is corrupt, so I’m burning the city and everyone in it.” Hero: “So you’re just… committing genocide now?”

Your villain can touch a real issue. Just don’t let them be the only one talking about it, or solving it with horror movie logic.

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🔪 STEP THREE: GIVE THEM POWER THAT COSTS THEM The best villains lose things too. They’re not just untouchable horror dolls in sexy coats. They make bad choices and pay for them. That’s where the drama lives.

Examples:

They isolate themselves.

They sacrifice people they love.

They get what they want, and it destroys them.

They know they’re the monster, and choose it anyway.

If your villain can kill a dozen people and feel nothing, that’s not scary. That’s boring. Let them bleed. Let them regret it. Let them double down anyway.

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🧱 STEP FOUR: MAKE THEM PART OF THE WORLD, NOT OUTSIDE IT Villains shouldn’t feel like they were patched in from another genre. They should be part of the world’s logic, culture, class system, history. They should reflect something about the setting.

Villains that slap:

The advisor who upheld the regime until they decided they deserved to rule.

The noble who’s using war to reclaim stolen legacy.

The ex-hero who thinks the system can’t be saved, only reset.

The priest who truly believes the gods demand blood.

They’re not just evil, they’re a product of the same world the hero is trying to save.

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👁 STEP FIVE: SHOW US THEIR SELF-JUSTIFICATION You don’t need a tragic backstory™. But you do need to show us why they think they’re right. Not just with exposition, through action.

Let us watch them:

Protect someone.

Choose their goal over safety.

Justify the unjustifiable to a character who loves them.

Refuse to change, even when given a chance.

A villain who looks into the mirror and goes “Yes. I’m correct.” is 1000x scarier than one who sobs into a journal and says “I’m so broken 🥺.”

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🧨 BONUS ROUND: DON’T MAKE THEM A HATRED MEGAPHONE Especially if you’re writing marginalized characters: don’t let your villain become a mouthpiece for slurs, abuse, or extremism just to make them “evil enough.” That’s lazy. And harmful.

You don’t need real-world hate speech to build a dark character. You need power, consequence, and intent.

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TL;DR: Good villains don’t need to be right. They need to be real. Not a vibe. Not a sad boy in a trench coat. Not a trauma monologue and then a sword fight. They need logic. They need cost. They need to scare you because you get them, and still want them to lose.

Make them dangerous. Not relatable. Make them whole. Not wholesome. Make them make sense.

—rin t. // thewriteadviceforwriters // villain critic. final boss consultant. licensed chaos goblin

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lines drawn, teeth bared.

[Ko-fi members can check out the behind-the-scenes thumbnails for this comic!]

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[aventurineswife]

Hello! First time requesting! Can I please request Aventurine, Anaxa, and Dr. Ratio with a Mobius inspired reader? Mobius is a scientist from HI3, obsessed with immortality and evolution. Heavy snake imagery, like Jade just less domineering and more Eldritch Horror. But! My main interest is how Mobius/Reader acts sweet and seductive in order to fulfill their ambitions(getting volunteers, funding, and such for experiments), despite hating every second of it. Also how they're willing to experiment on their own body for the sake of longevity. Though under this they do genuinely care for the people close to them, but just can't(or won't) give up their ambitions for anything. And only go fully mad scientist if those people end up dying. Sorry if this got really long! Mobius is my favorite character ever and HSR is quickly approaching favorite game territory. Have a nice day!

“Darling, You’ll Decay Before I Do”

Synopsis: In a universe where brilliance borders madness, an alluring researcher obsessed with immortality weaves through politics, passion, and peril—ensnaring the minds of a strategist, a scholar, and a logician. Seduction becomes a tool, affection a liability, and ambition an ever-consuming flame. But when bonds are tested and mortality intrudes, the question remains: how far will one go to defy the end?

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Anaxa x Reader, Mobius based Reader, Mad Scientist Reader, Slow Burn, Morally Grey Characters, Seduction As Manipulation, Emotional Repression, Psychological Tension, Eldritch Themes, Found Family, Obsession With Immortality, Mutual Manipulation, Tragic Romance, Experiment-Driven Plot, Light Body Horror, Philosophical Conflict.

Warnings: Emotional Manipulation, Scientific Experimentation On Self And Others, Existential Themes, Body Modification, Survivor’s Guilt, References To Trauma, Mild Gore, Loss And Grief, Obsessive Behavior, Intense Psychological Tension, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

A/N: Forgive me if this isn't written well—I based the Reader's personality solely on the information provided (I was too lazy to read Mobius’ backstory and other details).

Aventurine had seen charm weaponized before.

But never like this.

You weren’t just persuasive—you were designed for temptation. Your words were nectar, your presence slithered like silk over flesh, and your smile made gamblers forget they were already bankrupt. To others, you were a seduction. To him, you were a mirror.

"You're looking for funding," Aventurine drawled one evening, swirling a glass of amber liquor. "Or a donor?"

You tilted your head, eyes gleaming. “Same thing, really.”

He laughed, teeth flashing. "And what will I get in return? A patent? A serum? Immortality with side effects?"

"An opportunity." You leaned closer, and the scent of sterile steel and crushed jasmine laced the air between you. “To bet on something bigger than stock markets. Evolution. Ascension.”

Aventurine’s pulse thrilled at the danger in your voice, the madness humming under your skin. You were chaos in a lab coat, elegant and terrifying. And yet, he couldn’t look away.

He’d seen people fake passion. He’d faked it himself. But the way your hands shook after injecting yourself with your latest serum—the tremor you tried to hide behind a flirtatious smile—that was real.

And when he caught you alone, vomiting blood into a sink lined with snake-scale etchings, he didn’t say a word.

He just stepped behind you, placed a steady hand on your shoulder, and said, “Let me guess. This version didn’t work either?”

You laughed softly. Hollow. Haunted.

“Still worth the gamble,” you whispered.

In you, he saw something more dangerous than deceit: conviction. You’d sacrifice everything—even your body—for evolution’s altar. And if he were honest, that terrified and thrilled him in equal measure.

So he stayed close. Not to stop you. Not even to save you.

But to witness you.

Because some bets? You take for the sheer thrill of the risk.

He knew what you were the moment you slithered into his office.

Not literally, of course. But in the way your eyes gleamed like distant galaxies, the way your voice wrapped around syllables with reverence and venom. You didn’t knock. You didn’t wait. You simply arrived, as though you’d always been meant to.

"You're the one experimenting with soul coils and regenerative genetics," Anaxa said, voice slow, curious.

"And you're the one who dissected a dying god for 'truth'," you purred.

He chuckled, brushing a stray hair behind his ear. "Touché."

The two of you danced in dialogue like dueling philosophers. He spoke of forbidden knowledge, and you offered him blood-soaked notes in return. You craved evolution—no, transcendence. You stitched together truths the universe tried to hide, wore perfume to mask the formaldehyde, and smiled with lips painted in venom.

You were beautiful in the way stars were—distant, deadly, inevitable.

He found you once in your lab, sobbing silently as you held a failing graft in your hands. One that had once been human. One you hadn’t meant to lose.

"You said you didn’t care," he whispered.

“I don’t,” you snapped. But your voice cracked like breaking bone.

He didn’t press. Just sat beside you, his gloved hand finding yours—blackened with ink, blood, and promise.

"You remind me of who I could have become," he murmured.

"Better or worse?"

"Neither. Just... inevitable."

From then on, he visited you often—not to restrain your madness, but to temper it. And when your eyes burned with divine hunger, he matched you stride for stride.

In the end, it wasn’t about love.

It was about understanding.

And that was rarer than either of you cared to admit.

Dr. Ratio admired ambition.

But your ambition unsettled even him.

Your lab was a cathedral of horrors and hypotheses. Tubes of unnatural serum lined the walls like stained glass; the stench of formalin danced with lavender oil to fool weaker stomachs. But Ratio wasn’t weak.

He stepped over your failed clones. He listened to your proposals with arms crossed and eyes narrowing.

"You altered your own neural framework to accommodate an artificial limbic inhibitor," he said flatly. "Is that… wise?"

"It stopped me from crying," you replied sweetly. "Or from screaming, depending on the day."

He exhaled slowly.

You didn’t manipulate him. Not successfully. But you tried. With every tilt of your head, every seductive breath laced in careful cadence. And Ratio let you—because he wanted to see what you’d do when it failed.

And yet…

When you fell unconscious after a particularly aggressive auto-experiment, he stayed.

Read your logs.

Held your hand through seizures.

And whispered, just once, “You fool. You absolute genius.”

You awoke hours later, blinking past synthetic retinas. You saw his expression soften—a fraction.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmured. “I chose this.”

“I know,” he replied coldly. “I just wish you hadn’t.”

He offered you funding. Mentorship. A place among the Intelligentsia.

But never affection. That was yours to steal, if you could.

And when he finally touched your face—one gentle, gloved thumb tracing the grafted seam of your cheek—it wasn’t as a lover.

It was as an equal.

“Promise me something,” he said.

“What?”

“If you must become immortal… don’t forget how to feel.”

You smiled, cracked and stitched together.

“I already did, Dr. Ratio.”

But you knew he would never stop reminding you.

[randomness-is-my-order]

you know, there’s this idea sometimes when talking about wei wuxian’s displays of violence in the novels as if they were indiscriminate, unmeasured and excessive when in truth, that was never the case. every single time wei wuxian employed more drastic methods to deal with an opponent—be it at an individual or collective level—there was a buildup and reason behind it. this includes his torture and killing of wen chao, which was literally just payback for the months of prolonged torture he had suffered at wen chao’s hands. using every trick up his sleeve during a war is fair game—it is not criminal to practice ghostly cultivation, however dubious it may seem for some, because the alternative is potentially losing against the wen clan who had already slaughtered countless people on their side before the war ever began.

similarly, wei wuxian defending himself against the assembly of cultivators during the nightless city massacre is not excessive violence. why should it be his prerogative to exercise restraint when the ones attacking him are coming at him with the intent to kill? i maintain the same position about the ambush. it’s very important and a deliberate detail that in these two instances, wei wuxian is NOT the one who instigates the violence, since these take place in a non-war setting and as such, the culpability of the losses suffered is actually on the party that initiates the full-fledged fight!

again, these were extenuating circumstances and wei wuxian had been pushed and pushed and pushed till he finally decided—not to go HAM and rage without sense—but to dish out fully deserved tit-for-tat consequences on the ones who first chose to harm him. this is not indiscriminate violence (and no, even jin zixuan’s death isn’t an argument for the contrary; momentary loss of control in extremely harrowing conditions ≠ a needlessly bloodthirsty, violence-for-violence’s-sake situation).

want an example from canon of indiscriminate violence? look no further than the lotus pier massacre or the wen genocide during the first siege. look no further than jin guangyao’s various murder plots. look no further than jiang cheng’s torture and murder of numerous cultivators who had done nothing to harm him. it’s just, when the text provides so many different instances of violence enacted, and makes a bifurcation between those scenes where a mutual battle takes place and wei wuxian just happens to have the upperhand vs scenes where defenceless and/or innocent parties are subjected to harm and are victimized, we’ve got no excuse to conflate the two and try to portray wei wuxian’s actions as something they are decidedly not.

[bevsi]

some of the Arcane takes I’m seeing… maybe u should stick to The Owl House 🩷

[pidgeony]

what genuinely drives me ever-so-slightly insane every time i see people being like "why doesn't x batfam character kill, that's so hypocritical/ selfish/ whatever reason of them" is when did we ever need a reason *not* to kill??

everyone is justified in not killing. yes, some characters (bruce and cass for example) have very clear reasons (parents died in front of him, killed a man and saw what he felt), and some are less fleshed out or seemingly don't have a reason at all, but that doesn't mean that they are like, obligated to kill (or like/ forgive characters who kill)??? is this not obvious????

they chose this. they are vigilantes held by their own standards and codes and they choose not to kill. they've seen terrible things, tragedy befalls their everyday lives and they wake up and decide: no, life is precious, no, i am going to save lives, not end them, no, i will not be judge, jury, and executioner. if that's not important and significant about the batfam (excluding jason for obv reasons) then i don't know what is.

no, you don't have to agree with their code, but please for the love of all that's holy stop acting like bruce wayne is the worst man to grace the planet because he won't murder criminals or twist tim/ dick/ cass/ anyone basically into some morally gray anti-hero because you don't like their no-kill moral code.

[berryispunk]

Haunted by You

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: ANGST, heartbreak, conflicted feelings, kinda love confessions, exes to????, NO CHEATING, did I mention angst?, husband! Frankie, daddy to be! Frankie, regrets, alcohol mention, longing

summary: You almost forgot the pain he's caused until you unexpectedly meet him again in the bar.

notes: Don't ask me any questions. A quick idea after I saw the quote that's in the moodboard. Don't send me your therapy bill :')

this is part 1/2

part 2 here

word count: 1,8 k

Seeing him here, out of all places, out of all the times you went to this bar, feels like a sick joke from the universe. It feels like the cosmos pointed its finger at you, laughing heartily at your misfortune. Because of course, it had to be him.

You almost think you're imagining it—the way your breath catches, the way your chest tightens like an old wound being pried open. But he’s real. Too damn real. Frankie Morales, in that worn-out mustard jacket you’d recognize in crowds any time, hunched over a whiskey glass, looking just as wrecked as the last time you saw him—except now, you’re no longer the reason for it, or maybe you still are.

He hasn’t seen you yet. Not yet. And for a split second, you consider leaving. You should. You should. But your feet stay rooted, fingers tightening around the damp glass of your half-finished drink. The past is sitting just a few feet away, and for the first time in a long time, it feels alive—gnawing at the bars of its enclosure, warning to be freed.

The bartender slides another drink in front of you, giving you a knowing look. "Rough night?"

You huff out something that isn’t quite a laugh. "You have no idea."

Then, like a magnet drawn to its opposite, Frankie finally turns. When his eyes meet yours, it’s like nothing has changed. Except everything has.

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second—a flicker, barely noticeable unless you’ve spent years memorizing the way he looks at you. And you have. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. His expression shutters, closing you out the way he always did when he thought he was protecting you. Like that ever worked.

Your stomach twists. You should have left. Instead, you sit there, trapped in the weight of his stare, in the silence between you, in the ghosts clawing their way up from the past to wrap their fingers around your throat.

Frankie shifts, his fingers tightening around his glass. He looks down at it, then back up at you, something unreadable in his gaze. His eyes, dark under the cap he always used to wear—another one of his trademarks that are etched into your memory, impossible to erase. Just like everything else about him.

"Didn't think I'd see you here." His voice is rough, like he’s been drinking for a while. Or like he hasn’t slept in even longer.

You swallow against the lump in your throat. "Yeah, well. I could say the same."

A humorless huff of laughter escapes him. He glances away, rubbing the nape of his neck—something he always did when he was nervous.

For a second, you let yourself look at him—really look. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders sag like he’s been carrying the weight of the world alone. You wonder if he even tries to set it down anymore.

It shouldn’t hurt, seeing him like this. But it does. God, it does.

You turn back to your drink, hating the way your fingers tremble against the glass. "Didn’t think this place was your scene," you say, just to fill the silence. Just to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

Frankie exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "It's not, well not since—" he doesn’t have to finish the sentence. You know what he’s implying.

"Then why are you here?"

He hesitates. For a moment, you think he might lie. But then he lifts his whiskey to his lips, takes a slow sip, and says, "Looking for ghosts."

Your heart stutters. Because you know what he means and you're terrified you might still be one of them. His words linger between you, thick as the whiskey in his glass.

Looking for ghosts. Well, congratulations, Frankie. You fucking found one.

You open your mouth—maybe to snap back, maybe to say something that hurts—but then your eyes catch it.

A glint of gold.

Something sharp and awful coils in your stomach, twisting deep. For a second, you think it’s a trick of the dim bar lighting, but no. It’s real. Solid. Sitting there on his left hand like a goddamn brand. Your throat is suddenly dry, but you force the words out anyway. "When?"

Frankie doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. He glances down at his hand, flexing his fingers slightly before curling them back into a fist.

"A year ago."

A year. Not right after you. Not right away. But soon enough that the breath in your lungs turns razor-sharp. You nod slowly, like it doesn’t feel like your ribcage is collapsing.

"She knows you’re here?"

Frankie’s jaw tenses. That tells you everything you need to know. But you press anyway, because if he’s gonna haunt you like this, then you’re taking him down with you. "Is she home waiting?"

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. "She’s… she’s due next week."

That does it. That rips the air from your lungs, knocks the glass from your hand. It doesn’t shatter, but it might as well have.

"You’ve got a kid on the way?" Your voice is a whisper, but it might as well be a scream.

Frankie exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "It’s not—fuck, I didn’t come here to—"

"To what, Frankie?" Your laugh is bitter. "You didn’t come here to see me? Then why the hell are you sitting in our bar drinking like a man with regrets?"

He flinches, just slightly, but enough for you to notice. And that’s when it hits you, that deep, festering thing in your chest you’ve been ignoring since the second you saw him tonight.

It doesn’t matter if it’s been years. If he’s married. If he’s about to be a father. If your story ended.

Because it was still a story. Unfinished—the book slammed shut, but the ending was written somewhere else. Just not in yours.

Frankie stares down at his drink, like maybe he’ll find answers at the bottom of the glass. And for a long, agonizing moment, he doesn’t say anything.

But then, barely above a whisper—like it’s the only real thing left in the world—he says it.

"I still think about you."

Your breath catches.

"Every fucking day."

You hate how much you want to believe it. Hate how much you want it to be enough to change things between you.

"Even when I’m with her."

It’s a confession, a wound ripped open and bleeding all over the fucking floor.

"Even when she’s sleeping beside me."

Your stomach twists.

"Even when I touch her, it’s you I see."

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

"I wanted it to be you." Frankie’s voice breaks, and it’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard. "I wanted it to be you I built a life with. You I had a family with. I swear to God, I—"

"Shut the fuck up, Frankie."

Your voice isn’t loud. It isn’t sharp. It’s shaking. Your hands tremble at your sides, fingers curling, not in fury but in something worse—something raw and aching, something that feels like it might split you open.

"Do you hear yourself?" you spit out. "Do you have any fucking idea what you’re saying?" It’s not anger that clogs your throat, it’s everything else.

Frankie drags a hand over his face. "I know it’s fucked. I know I shouldn’t be saying it." His eyes flick up to yours, wrecked and desperate. "But it’s the truth."

"No," you snap. "The truth? The truth is you left me. The truth is you moved on. The truth is you’re about to have a kid with another woman, and you don’t get to sit here and tell me it should’ve been me just because you feel guilty tonight."

"It’s not guilt," he says, and the worst part is—he may mean it.

You shake your head, laughter bubbling up, sharp and jagged. "Oh, it’s not? So what the fuck do you want from me, Frankie? You want me to say it back? You want me to tell you I still think about you too? That I still wake up expecting to find you next to me? That no matter how hard I try, no one else ever—"

You choke on the words before they can escape, swallow them down with the bitterness in your throat. His face is pure devastation; he looks like you just shot him.

"I just…" He trails off, eyes flickering to his glass. "I just needed to see you."

And God, that’s the worst part. Because you needed to see him too. But it doesn’t fucking change anything.

And you don’t want to feel it—this, what’s happening between you both. But it’s impossible to ignore. The pull. The gravity. The familiarity that fills the air between you. It’s like no time has passed. The years just slip away, and here you are again, inches apart, breathless, with so much unsaid between you. Before you even realize it, you’re leaning in. Just a little. Just enough to catch the warmth of his breath, to inhale the scent that once clung to your skin. The same scent that lingered on the one shirt he left at your place. The one you held onto like an anchor, drowning in your tears for weeks, refusing to let go.

His fingers twitch like they want to reach for you. His eyes are dark with something you shouldn’t want, but still so heavy with meaning. You almost let him. All the feelings, all the longing you buried so deep, start bubbling up again, rising to the surface.

But it’s too much. It oversteps every line you swore you wouldn’t cross. But right here, right now, it feels like the easiest thing in the world to fall into him. To forget everything else. To pretend there’s still a chance. Another reality for you both. Another life where you aren’t the end of each other.

But in the last moment of clarity, you stop and pull back. And the distance between you feels like a chasm.

"No," you whisper, almost to yourself. "I’m not doing this."

His face twists like you’ve slapped him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move.

"You’re about to ruin all of this," you say, voice shaking but resolute. "You’re about to ruin everything you have—everything she’s about to give you—for some stupid fucking nostalgia. You don’t get to chase the past, Frankie. You don’t get to fuck up your life just because it’s easy to be here, with me."

Your voice breaks as you say it, but you’re too angry, too hurt to stop. "You made your choice. Don’t make me the one who gets hurt again."

He doesn’t answer. Froze in an endless loop of time stretching between you. His hand hovers in the air like he’s trying to reach for something he’s already lost.

Then he swallows, his voice rough. "I wish I didn’t have to choose."

But the words hang there, unanswered.

You turn, tears falling—silent and heavy, burning down your cheeks—as you take a steady step away, each one a little more certain than the last. Maybe it’ll eat you alive, knowing he’s about to be someone else’s family. But you can’t let him ruin you again.

You leave him there, probably just as conflicted as you—suffocating in his own mess of emotions. But he deserves to feel this. He deserves to suffer too, just like you. You won’t let him break you again.

You won’t.

my masterlist - in case you're hungry for more :)

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[labannori]

Nightmare nightmare nightmare

[carlyraejepsans]

Thoughts on Toridyne and Alphoriel? Yuri stocks so low I don't even know that their ot3 name is so i figure the resident Toriel account would have opinions

alphoriel has potential and is quite cute in deltarune, but i have to admit alphys is just a tad too perfect as an asgore foil/parallel for me to get super invested in that hypothetical dynamic. at least in a romantic sense.

there is a private secret toxic yuri toridyne dynamic that only exists in my brain for the empress undyne ending because there are few things more homoerotic than personally throwing a queen off of her throne. it's one of the neutral endings where undyne reaches some untapped extremes in her character, i think she deserves an insane yuri psychosexual complex to match. the weird ass power dynamics at play. the way their every interaction is colored by her grief and (pardon the pun) undying loyalty to asgore, but also her inheriting his struggles to manage the kingdom and toriel being the only one she can crawl to for guidance IF!!! she can swallow her pride and sense of justice (can she? can she do that for monsterkind?) it's toxic, it's violent, it's spiteful, and the moment undyne even mentions the role asgore played in her life toriel is 100% going to see her as the child asgore got to raise, in spite of everything he did. humiliating. absolutely wretched experience for both of them. but alas, I'd definitely had to write that myself

[sskybooks]

MASTER POST!

These are character development prompts 1-100. There are some funny, some serious, but all of them to help flesh out your character. (I also screwed up the numbering somewhere soo... things may or may not be out of line."

#1 What if your character was in a zombie apocalypse?

#2 What would your character do if they got everything they wanted?

#3 What would your character do if they were evil?

#5 What would your character do if they saw a tyrannosaurus-rex?

#6 What would your character do if accidentally hurt someone really badly?

#7 What would your character do if a cult member asked them to join them?

#8 What would your character do if they met the Grinch?

#9 What would your Character do if a gun was put to their head?

#10 What would your character do if they were kidnapped?

#11 What would your character do if they were deserted on an island?

#13 What would your character do if they met the Batman?

#14 What would your character do if they got reincarnated as a child?

#15 What would your character do if they met the hulk?

#16 What would your character do if someone slapped them?

#17 What would your character do if there was an earthquake?

#18 What would your character do if the world flooded?

#19 What would your character do if the president suddenly showed up at their front door?

#20 What would your character do if they where told “you can’t come.”

#22 What would your character do if they owned a Walmart?

#24 What would your character do if they could only eat one food for the rest of their life, what food would it be?

#25 What would your character do if they were a superhero? (And what would their powers be?)

#26 What would your character do if they were forced to perform on stage?

#27 What would your character do if they were a ruler of the world?

#28 What would your character do if time machines existed, what would be the first thing they’d do?

#29 What would your character do if the mailman handed them a baby?

#30 What would your character do if they were homeless?

#31 What would your character do if there was a serial killer on the loose?

#32 What would your character do if their wanted poster went up?

#33 What would your character do if they turned into a monster? (like their body turned into a monster form)

#34 What would your character do if they went to a farm?

#35 What would your character do if during of of the biggest battles of their life their mom called them?

#36 What would your character do if they discovered their sibling/friend was abused?

#38 What would your character do if they could be granted three wishes?

#39 What would your character do if they got magic powers? (or if they already have them, what would they do if they have none?)

#40 What would your character do if they were deaf?

#41 What would your character do if they couldn’t speak?

#42 What would your character do if they can’t feel anything?(physically)

#43 What would your character do if they were blind?

#44 What would your character do if their hair fell out?

#45 What would your character do if they were imprisoned?

#46 What would your character do if every time they said a mean thing a disfiguring tattoo appeared on them?

#47 What would your character do if their best friend died in front of them?

#48 What would your character do if a loved one turned evil?

#49 What would your character do if they got a surprise kiss?

#50 What would your character do if they met Jinx? (From arcane)

#51 What would your character do if they were placed in front of the end of the world button?

#52 What would your character do if they couldn't use their legs?

#53 What would your character do if they where stabbed?

#54 What would your character do, if didn’t have a phone? (Or if they already don't have one;) What would they do with one?

#55 What would your character do if a lost child came to them?

#56 What would your character do if they where shunned?

#57 What would your character do if they where handed drugs?

#58 What would your character do if they couldn’t talk

#59 What would your character do if someone stalked them?

#60 What would your character do if someone had a crush on them?

#61 What would your character do if can't use their arms?

#62 What would your character do if they found treasure?

#63 What would your character do if they met Thor?

#64 What would your character do if they where called ugly?

#65 What would your character do if their car was hijacked? (Or their mode of transportation)

#66 What would your character do if their home was invaded?

#67 What would your character do if they were stalked?

#68 What would your character do if they were treated as property?

#69 What would your character do if they witnessed a murder?

#70 What would your character do if they were paralyzed from the waist down?

#71 What would your character do if they lost an arm?

#72 What would your character do if they were failing at school? (or if they already are what if they suddenly got an A+)

#73 What would your character do if they failed at their goal? 

#74 Bird talking to a sea fish goddess and ask to turn into a fire breathing dragon and to have multiple different pastries shops.

#78 How does your character do with a discriminatory world, culture, or home life?

#79 What would your character do if they became allergic to their favorite food?

#80 What would your character do with wings (or without)?

#81 If your character was a ghost who/where would they haunt?

#82 What would your character do with a key that unlocked any door?

#83 What would your character do if (in universe) they found a book written about them?

#84 How would your character react if faced with their greatest fear?

#85 What would your character do if they found out they only have a year left to live?

#85 What are some favorite headcanons and fan theories? or small details about them.

#86 "What would your character do if they met an AU version of themself"

#87 "What would the OC be like without trama (or with trama)?

#88 What would your OC do if a person they knew was dead. Was chilling at a cafe.

#89 What would characters think of Bob Ross?

#90 what would your characters do if they started turning into a tree?

#91 what would your character do if someone told them they looked like an in-universe celebrity/famous person?

#92 what would they do if someone stuck a spoonful of mayonnaise in their face and told them to eat it?

#93 What would they do if they woke up and their hair was a different color?

#94 What would they do if a donkey started following them around (or any other animal)

#95 how would they react to a dancing chicken (with music coming from who knows where)

#96 What if they fell off a very high cliff?

#97 What would your characters do if suddenly they couldn’t understand what each other were saying? Then had to communicate other ways?

#98 what would your character do if they got turned into an animal?

#99 how would your character respond to back hugs?

#100 How would your character respond to scalp massages?

[lordgeneralsix]

local guy claims intellectual superiority by declaring people who criticise veilguard just haven't played long enough and don't really know what bad writing is. it must be very peaceful to have such an empty head.

[devilsskettle]

wait wait wait the OTHER reason i don’t like the “it’s spring … come back to the world” quote being singled out from we have always lived in the castle (and why it bothers me to defend that choice by saying the character who says it is objectively right and we’re supposed to agree with them because merricat is bad and/or crazy) well okay but maybe let’s consider the reasons WHY an author who felt alienated from her small community and personally experienced agoraphobia and health issues that severely limited her later in life might portray the character saying this to a person suffering from severe agoraphobia in a small community as a ridiculous and inconsiderate person imposing on the characters and meddling in their affairs while perpetuating the same classism that people (rightly) criticize merricat for…… there is an underlying conflict between her high society worldview and the blackwoods lifestyle and reputation that creates the humor in this scene but also establishes another source of tension between merricat and the rest of the world and i think that might be going over people’s heads a little bit in terms of like. tone? i guess? this is not real advice lol. it also makes me feel like you read maybe the first chapter and gave up on reading the rest of the book maybe

[adelinamoteru]

its kinda crazy that yall will apply real world politics and situations to gotham when it comes to jason and his ‘vigilantism’, but never choose to take that angle when analyzing any other bat character’s

brother eye from batman? hello? does constant nonconsensual surveillance seem like an ethical way to keep an eye on supposed allies or stop crime in real life? does beating people up until they comply with u (under fucking duress) seem like the ethical way to produce testimonies and confessions?

but nah, one speech from jason in utrd and yall are up in arms about how nothing he’s saying is actually conducive to lowering crime rates.

at the end of the day, it doesn’t fucking matter who’s right and who’s wrong regarding these morals in real life because the dc universe is so fucking far from reality in the crime that the justice system has to deal with. there is no point in arguing a reality standpoint if its not going to be applied to vigilantism in the bat comics as a whole.

and on the topic of fiction, the willful ignorance as to how jason’s story also portrays a victims revenge/justice is just boring at this point. how are themes in a narrative not coming through to you. especially when doing literature analysis for any of these comics.

[realbeefman]

say what you will about svu and copaganda but the consistently repeated theme that olivia benson was fundamentally born Wrong and the way the violence of her conception radiates out and impacts every single relationship she has. she cannot conceive of an existence that does not render her as an agent of justice rather than a complex person and it infects her interactions with anyone who is able to balance that responsibility. the way law & order manages to successfully recast the police as superhero-esque christ figures is genuinely incredible and like. even the way the show itself oscillates as to what her exact fate is episode to episode. does it get better? worse? can she ever prove herself worthy? is the past ever really past? is this thing she’s been justly burdened with her burden to carry at all? in the eyes of the Law. Our Father who art in heaven. i wash my hands of this.

[juaneloriginal]

silly thingy

@blackkatdraws's sillies