#i had to work on a proper illustration for them

[loneliness-of-spring]

what if... yuu and yan! scarabia... ? book 4 but they just dont want to let you leave.... think emoji

‼️‼️‼️THIS IS A YANDERE POST IF YOU’RE NOT COMFORTABLE PLEASE SCROLL AWAY. YANDERE CONTENT BELOW THE CUT‼️‼️‼️

I DO NOT CONDONE ANYTHING MENTIONED IN THIS POST!!!

I don’t know if you meant just our two scarabia characters or the whole dorm but either way I think it’s delicious. My thoughts here are more jamil-focused because he’s like. The main instigator in the first place WHAHHAHA

Also I got so stuck on thinking of what to illustrate for my points I’m so sorry 😭😭😭😭⁉️⁉️⁉️ this is more me rambling about bullshit

ooooh jamil’s plot takes on an extra sinister motive here whehehehehhe. He’s the first one to invite yuu into scarabia originally, for us to witness Kalim “becoming a tyrant” and a recreation of the Riddle situation. In a yandere scenario, aside from his anger and hatred towards Kalim and wanting to dethrone him, he’d definitely have an added motive of wanting to scare yuu away from Kalim right into his “caring” arms.

Kalim… would be a more “magnanimous” yandere. The type to spoil you absolutely rotten, treat you to anything in the world, just not the actual proper freedom you’re asking for. Trapping a bird in a gilded cage! He’d be way more agreeable to letting yuu stay in scarabia than in canon, and way more willing to “share” and show off his darling. I’m sure jamil abuses that fact to his advantage.

Jamil would be sooo manipulative. Unlike canon, he’d be more active in personally taking care of you, aiding in your escape attempts only to be “caught”, pretending to be your one and only ally in scarabia, all to gain more favour in your eyes. He’s the good guy, trying to help you, but his hands are tied by Kalim the tyrant! He’s risking his head just for you, see?

While he hates to put you through the gruelling marches to the oasis, he’s doing it to drive home the fact that Kalim’s a tyrant. It’s okay, he’ll take good care of you afterwards in any way he’s able to! He’s soooo sorry for dragging you into the mood swings of his tyrant of a dorm head.

If Kalim weren’t being controlled, he would’ve so gotten you on the same carriage as him during the oasis march. Literally cuddling up to you while sitting comfortably on plush, high quality cushions in the cooling shade as the entire scarabia dorm worked their asses off to get to the oasis in the desert sun.

I don’t think Jamil actually expected you to escape on your own; he’s got issues with looking down on others in a “I could do better than them, I just wasn’t allowed to!” fashion (I dunno how this holds up with book 7 I’m so sorry). In this scenario, I imagine that he probably had another escape plan for you in mind that would get you straight to Crowley/ an authority figure so he’d have no choice but to shut the tyrant situation down (he wouldn’t want a repeat of the riddle overblot, would he?), but once you crashed in Octavinelle and met the trio it was over for him and his plan.

Jamil’s overblot would go a bit differently. You’d definitely be locked up or held prisoner rather than tossed out with octavinelle and Kalim (saddening). The fight would go as per usual, but the aftermath? Horrific for Jamil. He’s RUINED in yuu’s eyes and he knows it. I think Kalim would’ve cried and even begged on his knees for you to stay and give them a second chance; literally bribing you with luxuries you could never think of having while living in that dilapidated dorm of yours (tempting when in a horrific living situation), but they can’t really do much coercion with the most powerful trio from octavinelle as witnesses. Jamil’s most definitely also trying to stop Kalim because this gives octavinelle extremely valuable information; the ramshackle prefect is a large weakness for the Scarabia dorm heads.

Perhaps if jamil didn’t literally just overblot, he would’ve used snake whisper again on you for you to agree to Kalim’s begging… and maybe even to agree to doing a few more things when you’re locked away in scarabia… Whereas Kalim is the type to worship his darling, jamil’s the type to want to be worshipped. In captivity, you’d be treated so affectionately by the two; adorned in all sorts of high quality clothing and jewellery from the scalding sands by kalim, jamil taking control over every little thing in your life so you wouldn’t have to lift a finger and forcing you to praise him for all that he’s doing for you, even using snake whisper on you in private so he can get you to worship him with the sweetest, most ego-inflating words, flirtatious and touchy actions, all while putting down kalim with every compliment you give him. Things you’d never do willingly with him.

The dorm… Oughhh the whole scarabia dorm… they’re all scheming and competing for yuu’s affections. If the WHOLE dorm were yandere, the competition would go crazy.

Some would temporarily work together, agreeing with Kalim to keep you in the dorm. Some would be backstabbers and do the same as Jamil; pretend that they’re your only ally and that you can’t trust anyone, constantly “helping” you to gain your favour and drive you away from the others.

The constant backstabbing would go INSANE you can’t trust anyone for shit because the moment you do they betray you/ get found out and hurt to reinforce that if you try to escape, people will be hurt in your stead. (in reality your “allies” find out about the others and tattle on them to the others. “If I can’t have you, no one can” mentality.)

If twst were a psychological horror game this would be it on expert level difficulty

[hansoeii]

A latte with lots of love!

[art-from-the-juice-box]

sorry for the lighting but i feel like you can still tell what’s going on and it’s not like a portfolio picture so yay ya yay stuff from school now that it’s properly started :) we were doing self portraits inspired by books from the library and mine was a collection of sci fi movie posters which is something i’ve never done before :]

[welcometogrouchland]

mm. Fear

[makingqueerhistory]

":')))))))) you realise that gen AI is available to everyone though right??? Queer creators can use it just as much as anyone else??? I just don't understand this post... It really feels like a cheap way to get on the 'AI Bad's bandwagon, and coming from such a thoughtful and insightful creator that's incredibly disappointing... It's okay to not comment on subjects you're not an expert in y'know...?"

Y'all know the drill, I am replying to this publicly but that is not an invitation to send any negative messages to the person I am replying to.

Anyways, let me start by saying that the original context of the post you're replying to is discussing an event where a queer org used generative AI to steal an interview with Keri Hulme. So let's start there. To be clear I don't even know if the original interviewer was queer so let's put the identities of stealer and stolen from to the side. I want to explain the harm done in this example specifically and I hope this is illustrative of what harm generative AI can (and does) do.

The original place I saw generative AI was a queer org that explicitly says they are using generative AI "for good", and as a way to bring more queer history to light. So let's take them at their word, and assume they are not out to cause harm. This is the best example of generative AI that I can imagine, so I hope that makes it clear that I am not coming at this issue from bad faith in any way.

Here is the harm they are causing:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

The original interviewer is not paid, or given proper recognition: I get it, sometimes just copy pasting an interview doesn't feel transformative enough, but something that one would learn if they worked in the queer history field and weren't a literal robot rehashing what has already been said, is that not everything needs to be transformed. In those cases, we give credit to the person who said the original words (in this case Keri Hulme), and the interviewer who facillitated the conversation (in this case Shelley Bridgeman). This case (again a best case scenario), takes the attention and byline away from the original interviewer and gives it to an AI.

The original publisher of this story is deinsentivised from paying interviewers in the future: The original publisher of this interview has ads on their website. As a person who also has ads on their website, taking an article like this and rephrasing it for no good reason (the orginal word count was not prohibitive and the rephrasing did not make it more readable), takes money from the publisher. It's pennies, but it's also removing numbers could have been used to justify further interviews with asexual people and archiving of asexual stories. The org that stole from this publication does not interview people themselves so the money and numbers that could have gone to continue to preserve asexual stories goes to stealing them instead.

These are just the active harms that I saw in this specific case. As you said, I am not an expert in generative AI, and will not be speaking as if I am. But I will say that asking me not to speak out on active harm that is being caused in queer history spaces, is disrespectful to my many years in this field.

To illustrate this even clearer: if you were a patron, you would know I recently took down an old article. I have been rereading and editing our backlist of articles, and I found one that no longer fit my standards of sourcing. My standards had recently raised due to a video made by HBomberguy about someone in the queer history space who was stealing from other creators. I watched this video not as a work project, but because I watch most of HBomberguys videos, and this one made me think more critically about sourcing. An AI can't do that. All an AI has is what has been inputted, and it is right now impossible to input every available peice of information about ethics into an AI and get a coherent ethical basis on which it will function.

It is a distinctly human trait to absorb information and change in that way. AI can rephrase information that already exists, steal it, recontextualize it even, but it cannot create something altogether new.

Do I believe that there one day might be an ethical use for Generative AI? Maybe. Do I believe that coming into a queer history space, stealing the words of a Maori asexual author, rephrasing them, and giving the original interviewer and publication no form of compensation for their work, is accomplishing that? No.

On a more personal note: I am coming at this issue with a bias. As a queer history creator, I do not want AI in my space, because it is literally damaging to my financial prospects. It has been like pulling teeth to try and get patrons in the current state of the global economy. I don't blame anyone from that, but I feel very disrespected that I am being asked to compete with a machine now. Not only that, but I am being asked to shut up and be fine with it? No, absolutely not. I cannot and will not stay quiet as space that I have fought tooth and nail to create in mainstream discussions is taken and given to AI.

AI was not supporting me when I was sent gore to try and scare me off of discussing queer history. A person did that. AI was not there to tell me I had written too many sad stories, and I needed some happy endings to remind myself of the good in the world. A person did that. AI was not there when I was being harrassed for supporting and including asexual stories on my website. A person did that.

And after all that, I am being asked to lie down and take it when my ability to pay the people who supported me in those ways, is being threatened. Nope. Not going to happen.

An AI doesn't have to make rent. An AI doesn't understand what it feels like to have to stop holding their wife's hand in public. An AI didn't get calls from people needing comfort in reaction to the election. Pay me for my work, and get this AI nonsense out of my face.

[cosmique-oddity]

Phew, my last weeks of work are now complete >:)

I loved Dratchet and Ratchlock since the very beginning of my attachment towards Transformers, first TFP Ratchet…..but yeah….two of my favorites character….plus Keferon’s Mech AU…..I had to make my own thing about it.

A story….no…an illustration ! I couldn’t choose. So I did both :}

—————————————————

That was not the first time Ratchet came back to his private lab angry, but this time, yelling at his superiors, and at the system, and basically at evverything that could be yelled at except the pilotd while leaving the manufacture, was certainly the last. He quit. That was enough,

you don’t win a war with feelings they said

well yes,

exactly,

but you win a war with soldier, and frying their mind before they have their first fight because you want them to be more perfectionned ? That was a little counter productive.

So he gave up. They are on their own now.

The lightly humming of his car was barely enough to keep him awake, it have been a long time since he last returned home, usually, he stayed at his work place, to have more time to sleep, but then, he was sleeping even less. An endless vicious circle, things were often like that.

But all of that was over for him.

He granted these young greenhorn with his experience, and what did they do ? Ignored his advices. Sending pilots to death. So now, he had himself out of the infernal machinery. This mindless waste of human life, even where this is what they tried to save was absurd.

In the middle of his quiet and late ride, he heard a noise. Rumbling, was it the engine ? As he stopped the car backroad to check, the noise wasnt stopping. Came from the sky, military patrol ? He raised his two tired eyes on the sky and saw a shining rail approaching his forest, falling fast. Not quintesson shaped, and with the gaze of an experimented biomechanist, Ratchet identified a mech.

At this moment, its violently crashed on the ground, behind the trees at maybe three or four miles away. No matter how hard he argued with the scientist sooner this day or how bad he wanted to say fuck to all of this death industry who killed young soldiers, he could do something for the one trapped inside the mech....maybe.... the man regained his car as fast as possible and urgently headed for the crash area.

Deafened sound of tires on the damaged road. Ratchet was already projecting, mentally stocktaking the tools he took with him, and lucky enough for the poor pilot, he quit with almost all of his material, and even if it was mainly mechs repairing material, he also bought some instruments which were used for the subtle neuromedicine between human and mech. Could adapt some of it and stabilize the pilot....then he may have the time to go home and grab proper materials. If there was life there was hope.

" bold of him to crash himself just the day i insulted all of his hierachy".

He frowned. Almost there.

The trees nearby were crushed and uprooted. A flickering pink light catched his gaze.

Almost immediately, the Ratchet analyzed the mech. It was different. He didnt know in wich country it was made but that almost looks alien. The curves and shapes, busted and burned on several places were demonstrating an incredible display of genius ingeniery he could just admiring. But time was not for being amazed on plating.

Someone was trapped there.

He stopped and parked his car in front of a fallen tree, rushing to the car's trunk, taking few indispensable objets, including some of them to help a safe disconnection between pilot/mech. In case he wasnt out already. And a crowbar, the cockpit might be stuck, seeing all the damages the mech has taken...

The sound of slightly wet grass under his feet was covered by a frenetic noise of aeration. Ratchet listened to it, while cautiously approaching the unknown mech. It almost sounded like a breath, but was certainly a depressurisation issue. The mech had fallen from so high on the sky....

The damaged plating were hot, probably from atmosphere friction. He raised his crowbar and his eyes followed the curves of the chestplates, searching for a familiar shape, that could lead him to the injured pilot inside. His gaze stopped on a deep wound, that might have cut through the cockpit.

The engineer stepped on the hot metal, his thick boots preventing him from feeling the heat, and he started searching for a hint....anything that could be a mechanism, anything that could open this damn mech !

Ratchet considered the damaged chest plate he noticed earlier. The surroundings of the wound were leaking bright pink, a very unusual color for fuel. Another of these definitively strange things about the mech. Again....not the time for that. Maybe if he could widen the gap, then he would be able to have an idea of what was going on under this armor.

He tapped the plate, -it was starting to cool down- with one of his finger. It was a very little tap, but the whole mech startled. A hiss of pain, recognisible easily by an emerite engineer-but-i-fix-people-too, it had come from the head of the mecha. Was this modele controlled from the head, like Vortex ? But Vortex was insanely huge for a mech, way taller than this one. He moved careful, noticing the shaking of his support.

"You hear me, kid ? Its going to be ok. You crashed in a safe area.".

He spoke in his medic tone, wich mean, of course brusque, serious, but also reassuring and calm.

He mumbled about the mech's features and tiny words of comfort while reaching for the head.

A red light, not regular and rather epileptic was coming from the head, and while he was almost there, on all four of his limb to keep balance, Ratchet saw it.

A spectacularly humanoid face, with sculpted nose and lips was tensed in a painful expression, frowning, but the thing who trapped his gaze was the two optics....

....staring back at him.

Mechs dont stare. Their eyes are glowing, oftenly to mimick human face, after all, human are pretty prideful creature, no point in piloting big ass metal titan if no one could tell these where their creation.

What human couldnt mimick with technologie, on the other hand, was the subtle expression between trying to evualuate a threat, his own injuries, and looking rather on the verge of death but also ready to tear any enemy's limb appart with its teeth.

With just one....very long....look at the other's eye, Ratchet was suddenly understanding what was going on.

Well....probably not but he knew what he had to save.

The pilot, the pilot he had to save.

The mech was the pilot.

He was the one he had to save.

He stopped trying to -certainly- open his chest. If it wasnt good for human it probably wasnt for living technology.

The giant technological humanoid seemed in a high distress, exhaling a lot of air from his vents, his eye still intensely staring at him and the engineer doubted his usual technique -including trying to make himself as small as possible- would work.

"Its going to be okay Kid. I can help you. There is nothing here that want to harm you".

He did his best to convey all of these emotions with his facial expression and gaze, still firmly watching back at him.

"the world better wait till im home and officially retired before killing me".

The mech's gaze -damn it was so more living than ANY human made machinery- seemed to soften a bit but still radiated with suspicion.

Deadlock had been in several bad situations. It happened quite a lot when a specie of giant aliens with tendrils tried to invade your homeland, and he was ready to it.

Trained to kill, and to do it efficiently.

And he was *good* at it.

This time was just another of these ‘i went too far in my excitation’ moments, and he has crashed on a random planet he hoped was not inhabited. He landed hard, and pieces of his ship must’ve been thrown near his location.

And now, now there was an organic like no one he ever saw, and the organic was on his *lap* and he had the kindest warmest eyes he ever saw.

And these eyes were directly looking at his own eyes, and the well named ‘Deadlock’ was starting to wonder if he finally had reunited with the Allspark. His pained and tenseful grin faded a little and he tried to move his head forward, searching a better point of view to watch the singularity in front of him.

Ow.

Moving hurt.

Some sound came out of the organic’s mouth, probably a language. He didn’t had the proper tools to decode it but the tone of the language was extremely….comforting ? Soft ?

This was scary.

He wasn’t used to be welcomed like that after a fight.

Usually it was either another fight, either the yelling of a superior, either nothing at all. But this actual living being was carefully examinating his chestplates, and he recognized the gestual of someone who was used to heal. A medic perhaps ?

He tried to move something, maybe a hand, to reach for the pale organic, to be sure he was real, but his body was rather uncooperative, from what he could say, one of his legs was missing, and a lot of wound were releasing energon on the ground he couldn’t saw.

The high probabilities of bleeding out and crash was an issue.

He let his head hang, too tired to watch for every moves of the organic, and barely aware of his environment.

There must be a big problem somewhere….

He confusely thought, while watching the stars.

Must be a bigger injury I haven’t saw……..

Ratchet saw the bright light coming from the alien’s eyes slowly fading, and cold swear ran through his back. Yet, he could still say the soldier was alive, the lights of his body were shining, not a lot, but it was enough. He looked at his first aid kit with disappointment. That wouldn’t be very efficient since the form of life he was trying to preserve wasn’t a tiny human. The nearest thing he could compare the Mech to was….well their own mechs, or eventually….Quintesson. An horrible mess of organic and technology. It was partially thanks to their weird constitution that Ratchet had been able to make sense with the ‘he is alive’ thought.

At this moment and with this material, he couldn’t help the kid, and didn’t possess enough knowledge to tell if he was even dying or not.

He had already an idea of what to do….to fix him, at least trying to, but it involved several objects he hadn’t right now. Leaving to search for these so called objects was risking to let an injured alone, he couldn’t take that risk. He was trapped with the mech, and had to hurry and find something. He stood and reached for more adapted material in his car, trying to find something…. Anything.

Surprisingly, the most useful artifact he came across was his electric screwdriver and a bunch of screw along with a long metallic cabke. A parallel between human stitch, with sewing threads and the material he had with him right now. He could manage something between human fixing and mech repairing, that was what the ‘bio’ in bioengineer stood for.

The kid would be ok. He would live and tell Ratchet why he fell from the sky, and maybe if he saw his friend Jazz….out there…….

.

.

—————————————————

:)) @keferon

(I swear I’m not insane, your AU is just kinda giving me infinite drawing stamina lmao)

[dduane]

The Bad Armor Drinking Game

In the digital art dep't...

So, having just sorted out the new figure for Queen Eftgan in the Middle Kingdoms books, I spent most of last week (while continuing to recover from the household upper respiratory infection) doing preliminary planning for the visual of a scene from The Door Into Sunset in which all the MCs are out on the battlefield. The big battle (or the final one of a sequence) will be the next day, and last-minute tweaks are being made to strategy and tactics. Which means putting most of the our-side protagonists together in a command tent, bent over a table covered with maps. (The "sketch" for this scene is over here.)

But sweet Goddess in a bucket, the shopping I had to do to make sure I had those guys' armor the way I wanted nearly drove me around the bend. From the digital artist's POV, the main problem with this is realistically arming the female characters. And the reason for this is simple: Almost all of it that's currently available from Daz is crap.

There are a very few notable exceptions. In Eftgan's case, for example: she's wearing the female-fighter version of the male-fighter harness that Herewiss has on. Sickleyield and Moonscape Graphics have done good work here.

But almost all the other female-use armors available at the moment? Argh. It had been ...a few years, I guess? since I last went armor-shopping. Last week I'd hoped there might at least be some new possibilities in the Daz shop. But instead I found so much more useless crap than before that I was tempted to start day drinking. And by evening, there were enough drink-triggers to start my very own drinking game.

I am not going to illustrate the triggers enumerated below, as I don't want to embarrass the artists. But if you look at the items turned up by this search, you'll have little trouble finding the things that would have left me in a drunken stupor within an hour or two.

My baseline: if I'm going to buy digital armor, either for male or female characters, it has to be something that I myself wouldn't be embarrassed to show up wearing at a swordfight. Otherwise, I start hitting the virtual bottle.

So I'd drink when I see:

Armor that fails to cover or at least protect vital vulnerable areas. Not just vital organs, but seriously important places like the insides of thighs and arms, the throat area, etc. (And yeah, I know and enjoy the various webcomics that illustrate, for humor's sake, the idea that the more bare flesh a female warrior displays, the safer they somehow are. But I'm dealing with the "realistic" side of combat here. Yes, some of my characters are magic workers, but the reason they go out and get themselves armor is so they don't have to waste precious magical ability dealing with something that steel will manage perfectly well without them having to think about it.)

Armor that should serve a useful protective purpose but nonetheless doesn't because it's been twisted by the armor maker, for design purposes, into a shape that means it's now essentially useless. Drink, for example, on seeing an example of "Silly Pauldron Syndrome:" i.e., shoulder pieces that will not only not protect you from a shoulder cut, but will direct it toward the space between neck and shoulder. ...Drink again if the pauldron also somehow blocks your view of what's going on around you. Another drink for pauldrons, gorgets or neck pieces that poke your eye out when you turn your head.

Armor covered with decorative doodads that do nothing but get in your way or serve as something for your adversaries' weapons to catch on. The proper purpose of armor is to deflect blows away from vulnerable areas, not to catch and keep them there. No one is going to waste expensive metal (and armourers' labor time) on decorations that are a liability. Anything that would catch a thrusting sword? Drink. Drink twice if spikes are involved.

Poorly thought-out attachments to armor (loincloths, capes, etc), Drink if these would inevitably trip you or otherwise interfere with you if you tried to run in them: or that would make it easier for an attacker—especially from behind—to pull/knock you down and kill you. Two drinks if the attachments are asymmetrical. (Because, what, this is supposed to help somehow?) And drink for loincloths in general, because, FFS, why.

Boob armor. If you're a woman who's fought with the sword at all, you know that unless you're absolutely dead flat in front, you bind up somehow to get the frontage safely restrained before the action begins. Armor that purports to separate your breasts into two different casings is simply idiotic. All that it does do is signal that you're female. (And you're doing this why, exactly? On a this-world battlefield, this strikes me as nothing but a recipe for trouble.) One drink for boob armor. Another drink for conical boob armor that would make even early!Madonna look askance. Two drinks for boob armor that covers only the tops of the boobs. Honestly, WTF!!

And: Armor that just looks silly. Armor that makes you go "Oh FFS, give me a break now" and look away. Two drinks (or more) for armor that covers hardly any of your character, but for which the designer is possibly charging you even more than for an intricately made and well thought-out piece of work with a lot more protective real estate.

...(sigh) So many drinks. And so little armor worth having. ...Anyway, I got away from that series of shopping sessions with my sobriety intact. Small mercies.

But let me show you something hilarious that came up along the way.

Very, very few of the people making and selling armors on Daz betray any sign of a sense of humor in their marketing images. The rig below, though, popped up suddenly and reduced me to gasps of helpless laughter.

This, I kid you not, will come up in that "armor" search above. Let's be charitable and refer to it for the time being as "fighting gear".

I haven't shown you the best of this, though. These two figures weren't alone. There was another.

This guy should be an example to us all. He's thinking, "They're gonna make me go out there wearing some stick-on leather nipple straps and half a rug from IKEA? Fine. I'm gonna make it work." ...And he not only owns it: he rocks it. This is a badass of some kind or another, and he has my sword, or axe, or whatever.

All I can say is: Good on the product designer for doing something genuinely funny for a change: because at that point, I seriously needed it.

(sigh) And now back to work.

ETA: A quick note per various recommendations of others online doing this kind of analysis: Thanks, but I don't need to go outside the household for more of the same. I'll just yell up the stairs to @petermorwood, who probably has some that's way more acerbic than mine. :)

[violant-apologia]

the FL MtG cards are here!

this is like my fourth batch, but i haven't posted any of the previous ones, so let me show off some of the cards from all the batches!

briar and his three mr stoneses! these are the face commanders of the deck. there are alternate commanders that you'll see later, but this is the pair that i like using the most often.

more masters! (and bazaar-aligned entities). all the masters in the deck are vampires, and they also all have the seal of the bazaar as a watermark. just a neat bit of visual clarity, i think!

ocs! incuding mine. not all of them will be able to make it into the deck proper (for deck size and colour identity reasons) but i'm still so happy to have them all.

basic lands: seven of each. these gave me so much hassle back when i made them, but i think they turned out well!!! apart from the edge mountains which are like 70% black.

more lands! a triplet of creatureland which i feel work very well. the rest of them are neat too. whenever i say i have an underground sea proxy in the deck, people give me a Look, but how could i not! it's a perfect fit.

dfcs! the frames of these all had to be done by hand, which always took a while. i still think they turned out incredibly well, all things considered.

more creatures!! some legendary, some not. i made the decision pretty early that if i represent a named character with a nonlegendary card, i'd just cut the "the" from the name (see sallow spirifer and voracious diplomat). i think it works!

and noncreatures!! there's a vague treasure theme in the deck (as can be seen in the fall of london, revel in riches and spirifage (as well as a lot of the creatures)) but honestly most of the cards are flavour picks. still, artificial evolution has gotten me out of some jams. fun card!

aaaand tokens! which is everything. i reckon when i play this deck properly, i'll report back any fun scrapes that anyone's characters get into. like getting turned into a bug, or killing the god of death.

again, thank everyone who contributed OCs or art to this project. i'm very happy to have so many flumblr characters appear in the deck. all of the cards have art credits on them, but some probably aren't visible in the photos. so for proper credits (and as a ping list) i've included a list below the cut:

@alexis-royce: The Ex-Disgraced Academic; Mr Pages; Mr Stones (x2); New Blood. @anomalouscorvid: Darcy, the Appalling Artist; Furnace Ancona; Mr Transport; May, the Merry Gentleman; The Seventh Coil. @capn-twitchery: Captain Twitchery Lazaret. @ciriparipa: Mr Sacks. @dualclock: Oswald, the Decadent Parvenu. elena-illustration: M. Melchor. @esteemed-excellency: Haunted One; Hiram Hargrave. @feivelynart: Black Ribbon Duellist; The Carnelian Exile; The Grand Geode; London Ascends to the Stars; Thopter Token; Voracious Diplomat. u/Galvatyr: Poor Edward. @hells-dear-heart: Isidore Carter. @letters-of-fire: Boots the Cat; Giorgione, Crooked-Cross. @madame-butterfly-knife: Inessa Fonseca, Lyon. @milleart: Snuffer. @mledoesart: Mr Eaten. @oneirotecture: Warden, Scarred Silverer. @pinchbees: Merry Darthfellow. Sarah Warrington: Orsino Elderwood. @shazzbaa: Griz, the Efficient Commissioner; Mr Fires; Stargaze; Tragic Slip; Virginia, Lord Mayor of London. @sorrow2art: Cardiac Echoes, Spymaster. StagyTryout: The Avid Horizon @sunlessveils: Parabolan Kitten. @tears-n-tarot: Charlie and Artemis Burnet-Lin. @the-insouciant-scientist: Briar Hathaway, the Apologist; Mr Stones; Noman. @the-masterless-press: Betty Horvat, Pugilist. @the-noted-collector: Endemannus Korabl'nikov. @thedeafprophet: Harper Faraday. @thegreatyin: The Bandaged Scoundrel. @thunder-threnodies: Captain Francis Morgan Dargor. @torturingpeople: Edison, the Sybaritic Laureate; The Tender Pathologist. @velvetlinedbox: Doe, Waterlogged Detective. @viric-dreams: The Boil of Calamities; Drown in Dreams; Horiatio Digby; The Six Finger'd Scrimshander. @waterlogged-detective: Brett Heroux, Dandy Detective; Marian, Prickly Bluejacket; Namkuzu, Avaricious Meddler. @yuuuyang: Sigil-Ridden Navigator; Storm, God of the Roof; The Woods in Winter. @zeebreezin: August Shaw, the Black Rook.

and @failbettergames: Arcane Signet; Artificial Evolution; Beseech the Queen; Betty Horvat, Pugilist (bg); Black Market; Blood Token; The Cave of the Nadir; Censor; The Chapel of Lights; Clothes-Colony; Clue Token; Copy Token; Darkness; The Dawn Machine; Dreamscape Artist; The Echo Bazaar; The Fall of London; Flood of Tears; Food Token; Hecuba, Doomed Obliterator; Hideaway; Hillchanger Tower; The Horticultural Show; The House of Chimes; The Implacable Detective; Inessa Fonseca, Lyon (bg); The Irrepressible Heiress; Island (x7); Jack-of-Smiles; Khan's Heart; Laughable Reconstruction; Miniature Hellworm; Mountain (x7); The Mountain of Light; Mr Chimes; Perigee of Silver; The Prismatic Dowager; Probably a Coincidence; Revel in Riches; Rise and Shine; Road // Ruin; Sallow Spirifer; Salt, God of the East; The Scuttering Company; Shapeshifter Token; Spider-Council; Spirifage; Stone, God of the South; Swamp (x7); Treasure Token (x2); Underground Sea; Venderbight.

[garmaux-illustration]

decided to finish the illustration since you guys liked the sketch (i think it had the most notes among my most recent work thank you all `(*>﹏<*)′ )

as i just got back to school and have a lot on my plate right now l’m having quite some trouble coming up with the lore of the rest of the AU and would be more than happy for anyone with ideas to reach out via comments or asks or even dms

For Now: (under the cut so your feed is still digestible)

Viktor and Jayce are the main researchers to come up with the whole ghostbusting thing (Viktor's a Physics PhD and an engineering degree, Jayce has two masters degrees in Engineering and Biology and is an absolute expert in anything related to supernatural/ghost lore),

when they get expelled from the university because their research is considered too fringe and un-scientific (either like in the first ghostbusters movie or i have to find a way to make it fit with jayce's appartment explosion that happens in cannon) they move their equipment in Ximena's basement for a while before they find a proper place to run their business (Mel helped them find it)

Mel is either friends with or Jayce's ex depending of where we stand with shipping (i'm open to literally any interpretation from no shipping to ghost hunting polycule) and she's the one who helps them with finding funding and administrating help ? (like, building permits, making sure the facility is either up to code or exploit loopholes to keep them out of legal trouble and whatnot) she's also a bit of a ghost nerd but has no science expertise or too much theoretical knowledge besides that

which is when Skye also joins them (she was looking for a job after her own graduation and knew Viktor and Jayce through studies and the college's horror lit reading club respectively)

I would like to add Timebomb as an over enthutiastic duo of students trying to get an internship with them (to validate their bachelor's degree of course and not at all because they have an undying passion for spooky stuff and found the perfect excuse to have their mandatory internship be so insanely cool) but i'm not super sure about the details and i have no idea at all how to had Vi Cait and Heimerdinger or the council in this mess of an AU (let alone the whole Piltover/Zaun situation)

also at some point the council explosion happens and Viktor gets semi-resurrected as a ghost i guess ???

[velnna]

Do you have any advice on sticking to a project? I've got a number of different comics I want to make and eventually (hopefully) I will make them all, but my brain keeps wanting to bounce between projects. Partially because I get renewed inspiration for something I've worked on previously, or sometimes because I think it might make a better "debut" project. There isn't really a project among the small group that I want to do more than the others, the problem is moreso I want to do them all so badly but.. alas, a human with a dayjob and only so many hours in a day

I don't really have a lot of advice there other than maybe trying to gather the discipline to focus on one for a while and get some ground covered. I've personally always had at least 2-3 stories in the works (usually in case I got blocked or bored of one temporarily, so I could context switch), but one does always end up standing out or having a stronger foundation to jump to while the others stay mostly dormant

I guess if you have a lot of ideas without proper structure you could also try to incorporate things you like from other projects or ideas into a single one so that by working on a single project you're covering different basis and don't need to spread to others. This would involve killing some darlings, though, and also even more discipline to avoid overstuffing a single project. I do it sometimes but need to be careful to not let it inflate main plotlines or casts TOO much.

So for instance if I have a specific aesthetic or character that could have its own world but also isn't fleshed out enough to be a main project I may add them in the background of a main project, or as a part of that world, etc. It allows me to make them exist and be referenced to (or show up in side comics, illustrations, etc) without needing to take a whole "slot" if that makes sense

[undersprite]

It begins once again...!

Look alive, sunshine!

That's right, we're back to remind you that this party's still happening and everyone's still invited. I'm once again your gracious host @chaos-fantazy, ready to leave last year behind me and do everything in my power to make this our biggest AU contest yet. I'm joined by Differentopic owner @gonzalogamer128, co-creator of last year's winner "Knock Knock," @starlightshore, and @g0at0ad, who has too many potential claims to fame that listing them all here would take far too long.

You'll notice I didn't say "AU comic contest," though. That's because, for the first time, we will be running a second contest in parallel to our usual comic contest—an AU character design contest, the perfect way for you to participate even if you don't have the time to write a full comic. Spearheading the judge panel for that contest is @creatoonz, Flaredust and r2d2kx100. That contest will begin on Saturday, May 10th, about a month from now—but you can go ahead and start your preparations now!

If you'd like to know more, join our Discord server to find the full rules and keep up-to date on everything...or find more info under the cut!

Huh? What? AU Contest???

This contest is dedicated to celebrating how this fandom told stories to each other when it was first starting out—sprite comics, which, as their name implies, are a web comic that uses sprites rather than drawn artwork as the main means of depicting its subjects. They're commonly done to produce fan comics for video games, and Undertale is no exception—many prolific AUs, including @invertedfate, began as sprite comics.

Like a game jam, this contest invites people to produce Undertale/Deltarune AU comics (And design AU characters!). Being a contest, there are prizes and glory on the line for the winners, but in the end, what it's really about is the chance for people to get creative. If you’ve ever had an idea for a story you want to tell using these games’ characters or setting, but could never justify dedicating time to telling it…this is the excuse you need!

Sorry, you mentioned prizes?

After last year, to minimize potential complications, I've been working with the judge panel to establish our prize pool ahead of time:

The character design contest is slated to have four categories; the winner of each category will have their winning character illustrated by one of our judges. (Who will draw which exactly is still a bit up in the air, but they'll definitely be available!)

The second- and third-place comics will receive an illustration from either G0at0ad or r2d2kx100 of a character of their choice, with simple background.

The grand prize for the winning comic will be a full-scale illustration from Starlight, complete with a background and up to two characters—giving you the opportunity to see one of your favorite scenes from the comic brought to life!

Sounds cool! How do I participate?

I'm glad you asked! Our official Discord server is not only the proper avenue to send a submission, it also contains all the official rules regarding the production and submission thereof.

The character design contest begins on May 10th and will run up through the end of June—slightly overlapping with the comic contest, which will start at the beginning of June and end at the end of August. I'll make announcement posts here when each contest begins and close to when they're ending, too.

It's my sincerest hope to see all of you there!

[lewdlepoodle69]

Happy New Year! Koharu and Kanna from Love Bullet chilling with some pigeons.

The part where it’s revealed all the pigeons can understand what the cupids say + the chapter illustration of Kanna feeding them really made my heart bubble. That’s why this exists! I finished this yesterday but of course it was new years eve and I was very tired from the big ol’ year last year, so here I am.

Honestly, this feels like the first proper drawing I’ve done since September, which is kinda because it is. The Jammer Lammy drawing in between this and the Septmeber Star/Eule one was sketched and had the bulk of work done on it in July, then finished one day in Novemebr because I was bored, so it doesn’t feel up to scratch.

It feels like a breath of fresh air having finished this. I’m completely happy with it as well! Absolutely no caveats. Every thing balanced in a way that I like. A good drawing to finish the year with. Gonna have a rest now.

Hoping 2025 is a good year for us all <3 Also go read Love Bullet, it’s pretty cool.

[pixel7777]

Batstarion's New Groove: Ch. 1/10

This art was commissioned from the incredible @vetochkarowan, the single best illustrator of Batstarion in all his fictional forms ever. Check out her Modern Bat series (pinned to her page) and consider supporting her Patreon, as I do!

Work Summary: There's a time and a place to turn into a floofy white bat. This is not it.

One minute, Astarion is a suave, unflappable vampire spawn. The next, he's small, white, fluffy, and squeaking indignantly from Zelara's cleavage. While Gale scrambles to solve the magical mystery and floof-obsessed Zelara insists on calling him Batstarion, Astarion has bigger concerns—like how to chair a political summit when he can’t hold a quill. A throuple romantic comedy with spells gone sideways, bureaucracy under siege, and just a little bloodletting.

This story can be enjoyed alone (betas confirm!) but is technically a sequel to Threefold Returns (Tumblr/AO3). See the notes below the break for more info.

Canon compliance: Mostly plausible as post-canon fanfic, with some magical realism non-strict 5e magic rules.

Work Content Tags: Post-Canon, Polyamory, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, POV Multiple, Threesome - F/M/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Humor, Bloodweave+Tav, PIV sex, Oral Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Batstarion, Floofy snuggles ~32K words.

Read this chapter below the break or the full work (already completed) on AO3!

Chapters will be posted nightly on Tumblr - head to AO3 if you're impatient to finish!

Notes:

This fic happens after Threefold Returns (Tumblr/AO3) but can be enjoyed without reading Threefold first. A few points to keep in mind:

Astarion, Gale, and Zelara (Tav in the story) are in an established Throuple relationship

They live in Gale's Tower in Waterdeep, which is sentient and has a particular affection for Astarion.

The Tower connects to the Underdark, where Zelara's semi-sentient Workbench is forced to reside, since Tower dislikes being exploded.

Zelara is a Dhampir Drow Alchemist.

Astarion released the spawn at the Ascension ritual, and he and Zelara have spent time since then in the Underdark helping them survive.

I had amazing beta-reader for this fic from the Bloodweave Brainrot Discord server: domestic_cryptid and @gewhanaa. Thank both so much for your inputs!

Chapter 1 - Gale

Gale lifted his glass of wine, watching the sunset play across the rooftop garden Tower had crafted for their gathering. The space was remarkably pleasant – cushioned seating arranged in a semicircle, all self-warming despite the cool evening breeze, with potted herbs and flowering plants creating a lush atmosphere. A table laden with an assortment of foods and drinks stood within easy reach of everyone.

"To the eve of a new dawn," he toasted, smiling at his companions assembled around them.

Lae'zel scoffed but raised her goblet nonetheless. "The metaphor is unnecessary. But I acknowledge the significance of tomorrow's proceedings."

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. "Always the poet, aren't you, Gale?"

Gale's attention drifted to Astarion, who sat between him and Zelara. The vampire was uncharacteristically quiet, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun was making its final descent. There was something in his expression – a tightness around his mouth, a certain distance in his eyes – that struck Gale as unusual.

Insecurity, perhaps? The thought seemed strange associated with Astarion, who typically projected nothing but confidence, but tomorrow was no small matter. Leading the committee that would oversee the distribution of Aureum Vitae would effectively change the future for thousands of vampire spawn. Cazador's former slaves would finally have the opportunity to walk in daylight, to rejoin society proper.

"You know," Gale said quietly, leaning toward Astarion, "I believe you're more prepared for tomorrow than you realize." 

Astarion turned to look at him, one eyebrow arched. 

"The spawn respect you," Gale continued. "You've lived their experience, understood their suffering in ways none of us could. That authenticity will carry more weight than any rehearsed speech."

Zel reached over and squeezed Astarion's hand. "What our wizard's trying to say is you've got this."

Astarion's expression shifted, but not toward relief as Gale had expected. If anything, the furrow between his brows deepened.

"We've rehearsed the opening statements," Gale assured him. "The research is solid, the logistics are sound. The committee simply needs direction, and you're uniquely positioned to provide it." 

He placed a hand on Astarion's shoulder, feeling the tension beneath his palm. "Two years ago, I wouldn't have believed we'd be here – planning the integration of vampire spawn into daylight society. It's rather remarkable, isn't it?"

Astarion shifted in his seat. "Yes, quite remarkable," he murmured, rolling his shoulders again.

Gale watched him curiously. Something about the way Astarion kept adjusting his posture seemed off. Perhaps his shirt was bothering him? The vampire was notoriously particular about his clothing – the fabric might be causing some discomfort. Gale made a mental note to ask him about it later.

"I have concerns about quality control," Lae'zel interjected, pulling Gale's attention away from Astarion's fidgeting. "Your potion requires precise measurement. One mistake and we will have burning vampires in the streets."

"The dosage is quite stable," Gale assured her, grateful for her practical concerns. "We've refined the formula substantially. Any variance within five percent will still provide adequate protection."

Shadowheart cleared her throat. "It's not just about the physical safety. What of the reception these spawn will face? People have feared vampires for centuries. A potion won't erase that prejudice."

"Fair point," Gale conceded. "Integration will require more than technical solutions."

Minsc's booming voice cut through the conversation. "Boo says that all creatures deserve a chance at redemption! Even those with pointy teeth!"

Jaheira seemed less convinced. "Many of these spawn had been Cazador’s captives for generations. They have few trade skills, no understanding of surface customs. How will they support themselves? Without structure, desperate people make desperate choices."

"We've considered educational programs," Gale explained, warming to the topic. "Apprenticeships with sympathetic guilds. Blackstaff has already pledged support for – "

A sharp, abrupt movement caught Gale's eye. Astarion had adjusted his position again, almost flinching.

" – for transitional housing," Gale continued, trying not to lose his train of thought. "With proper discourse between community leaders, I believe we can create pathways for meaningful integration."

Through all this, Astarion remained notably silent. His fingers drummed against his knee, and occasionally he would rotate his shoulders as if trying to stretch out some discomfort. The behavior was so uncharacteristic that Gale found himself glancing over repeatedly, only half–listening as Jaheira and Shadowheart debated the ethics of blood supply chains.

"These challenges are significant," Gale admitted, "but not insurmountable. With careful planning and our combined resources, I believe we can address each concern methodically."

Astarion shifted again, more dramatically this time, then immediately stilled when he noticed Gale watching. His smile was tight, forced.

How strange, Gale thought. For someone who had fought so hard for this moment, Astarion seemed almost... reluctant now that it had arrived.

Gale watched as Zel interrupted the increasingly spirited debate about resource allocation with a wave of her hand.

"Honestly, you're all worrying about stuff Astarion's already thought of," she said, leaning back with the casual confidence she always displayed. "Calm down and pass the booze. Astarion's been working on this for months."

Gale nodded, appreciating her show of support. Astarion had indeed been meticulous in his planning, though his current demeanor suggested otherwise. The vampire's shoulders twitched again, more violently this time, and Gale was about to ask if he was feeling well when – 

His wine glass nearly slipped from his hand as Astarion abruptly ceased to exist.

In his place, there was a puff of mist, followed by a rush of displaced air. Astarion vanished. In his place, plummeting from chest-height toward the ground, was a small bundle of white fur.

Gale froze. Absolute stillness fell over the gathering.

Zel's reflexes proved faster than anyone else's. She lunged forward, hands cupped, and caught the creature before it hit the ground.

"What in the nine hells–" Shadowheart began.

Gale set his glass down carefully and leaned forward, peering into Zel's cupped hands. Gale gaped. The fur bundle turned out to be a small, white bat, with a distinctive curl atop its head that looked remarkably like Astarion's signature swoop of bangs. Its tiny nose and feet were pink, and when it blinked up at them, Gale recognized unmistakable ruby-red eyes.

"Astarion? Fascinating," he murmured, his mind already racing with possibilities. "I wasn't aware vampire spawn could transform like true vampires. This suggests a significant evolution in his powers." 

He mentally catalogued everything he knew about vampire physiology. Typically, only true vampires possessed the ability to transform into bats or mist. Astarion had deliberately chosen not to become a full vampire, yet here was evidence that he had somehow acquired new abilities.

"The implications are remarkable," Gale continued, reaching out a tentative finger toward the bat. "Perhaps Cazador's death has allowed for a gradual transference of power?"

But Zel wasn't listening to his theorizing. Her expression had transformed completely, her eyes wide with delight.

"Look at him!" she gasped, gently cradling the tiny bat. "He's so... fluffy!"

Gale watched, somewhat bewildered, as Zel's face softened into an expression he rarely saw on her. Her fingers carefully stroked the bat's tiny head, and she cooed in a voice utterly unlike her usual practical tone.

"You're just a little ball of floof, aren't you?" she said, her voice pitched higher than normal. "Look at your tiny ears!"

The bat stared up at Gale with those ruby eyes, and then it opened its tiny mouth and began squeaking frantically. The sound was high-pitched and rapid, almost as if it were trying to communicate something urgent.

"What's happening to him?" Jaheira leaned forward, her brow furrowed with concern.

Karlach crossed her arms. "Uh, he sounds kind of… freaked out. Did he do this on purpose?"

Gale pondered this question. It was indeed puzzling. Astarion had given no indication he possessed such abilities before today. More importantly, if this was intentional, why would he choose this moment, on the eve of such an important event, to demonstrate this skill?

"Astarion," Gale addressed the tiny creature, attempting to maintain a calm, rational tone despite the absurdity of the situation, "perhaps you could change back and explain what's happening?"

He reached toward the bat, but before his fingers could make contact, Zel yanked her hands away, pulling Astarion out of reach.

"No!" she exclaimed with unexpected ferocity. "He's mine! I'm going to love him and squeeze him and pet him and hug him and feed him and call him Batstarion!"

Gale blinked in astonishment. He'd adventured with Zelara, had been romantically involved with her for years now, and yet he'd never seen this particular expression on her face – a mixture of fierce protectiveness and childlike delight. It was as if the sight of Astarion in this tiny, vulnerable form had activated some deeply buried maternal instinct.

"Zel," he said carefully, "I understand he's quite... charming in this state, but we need to determine if he can transform back. Tomorrow's meeting–"

The tiny bat flailed in Zelara’s hands, flapping its wings furiously and screeching with all the righteous indignation of a prince whose royal decree had been ignored.

“Oh my gods, you’re so cute when you’re mad!” Zel gushed.

The bat screamed louder.

Lae'zel stood up abruptly. "This form is inappropriate for tomorrow's proceedings," she declared. "We cannot have the leader of the committee present as a rodent."

"Bats aren't rodents," Gale corrected automatically. "They're of the order Chiroptera, which–"

The Githyanki shot him a withering look, and he decided taxonomy lessons could wait for another time.

"This is clearly the work of our enemies," Lae'zel said, her yellow eyes narrowing as she surveyed the rooftop with suspicion. "A curse inflicted by those who oppose the liberation of the spawn. They seek to undermine tomorrow's proceedings by removing its leader."

"A fascinating theory," Gale replied, unable to keep the excitement from his voice, "but I believe we're witnessing something far more remarkable – an arcane anomaly that suggests evolving vampiric physiology! Perhaps killing Cazador has allowed Astarion to inherit certain dormant abilities. The timing is odd, this developing two years later but–"

The bat squeaked furiously at this, tiny wings flapping in what Gale interpreted as disagreement.

"Or it is a sign that he has overexerted himself," Jaheira interjected, her voice calm but concerned. "There are records of druids losing control of Wild Shape under duress. While Astarion is no druid, the principle may be similar. Stress can manifest in unexpected physiological responses, particularly in beings with magical natures."

Halsin blushed.

Shadowheart leaned forward, studying the small creature with narrowed eyes. "Perhaps this is an undiscovered side effect of the Aureum Vitae? The potion allows vampires to withstand sunlight, but we've only been testing it for a short time. It stands to reason that a formula powerful enough to protect against a vampire's greatest weakness might have other effects – perhaps heightening other vampiric powers, like transformation abilities."

Gale found himself nodding. "That's a reasonable hypothesis. The potion works by temporarily altering the fundamental magical essence of vampiric physiology. It's not inconceivable that such alterations could trigger latent abilities."

"He looked all itchy before it happened," Karlach pointed out, scratching her own arm absently. "Are you all using a new soap? Because I got the weirdest rash this one time when Wyll brought back this fancy Calimshan soap. Turned me bright purple for three days."

The bat in Zel's hands stopped squeaking and stared at Karlach with what Gale swore was pure exasperation.

"While I appreciate everyone's theories," Gale said, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "what matters most is determining if Astarion can transform back. The committee meeting is scheduled for tomorrow morning, and his presence – in his humanoid form – is rather crucial."

Zel clutched the bat closer to her chest. "But look at his tiny little nose! And the way his ear twitches when he's annoyed!"

Gale sighed. Getting Zel to focus on the problem rather than Astarion's admittedly adorable appearance was going to be challenging. He leaned in, examining the bat more closely.

"Can you understand us, Astarion?" he asked.

The bat nodded vigorously, its ruby eyes bright with intelligence.

"Can you transform back at will?"

The bat flailed violently, squeaking at Gale with a level of distress that could mean anything from “obviously not, you idiot” to “I refuse to dignify that question.”

Gale watched as Zelara nuzzled Batstarion against her cheek, her eyes closed in pure delight. For a moment – so brief he might have imagined it – Astarion seemed to lean into the affection, his tiny bat body relaxing against her lavender skin.

Then, as if catching himself in this moment of vulnerability, Batstarion swatted at her with one leathery wing, his ruby eyes narrowing in what could only be described as vampiric indignation.

"Please," Gale said, spreading his hands in a gesture of desperate appeal. He looked back and forth between his lovers – one transformed into a fluffy white bat, the other seemingly content to keep him that way indefinitely. "This isn't getting us anywhere."

Zel merely giggled as Batstarion continued his ineffectual protest. Gale's shoulders slumped, and he fixed them both with a pleading gaze. Was he truly the only one taking this situation seriously? They had responsibilities, obligations – and Astarion was currently incapable of doing anything more threatening than squeaking angrily.

"We need to focus," he implored, though his voice betrayed his growing certainty that neither of his companions was listening to reason.

Halsin, who had been observing the situation with quiet interest, rose from his seat. "Perhaps I can help," he offered. "I can speak with him if I cast–"

He began the familiar gestures of the Speak with Animals spell, his fingers weaving through the air in practiced motions.

Gale watched with academic fascination as Halsin completed the spell, his hands glowing briefly with druidic energy. The transformation was subtle but immediate – the bat's squeaks should now be comprehensible speech to the druid. Halsin leaned in close, his expression gentle as he addressed the tiny creature.

"Astarion, can you explain what happened? Was this transformation voluntary?" Halsin asked. 

The bat opened its mouth, but instead of answering, it closed its mouth again and went completely still. Its tiny body froze, wings pulled tight to its sides, ruby eyes narrowed in thought. Gale frowned, leaning closer to examine this new development. Had something gone wrong with the spell? The bat's chest still rose and fell with rapid breaths, so it wasn't unconscious, merely... unresponsive. Gale glanced at Halsin, whose confusion mirrored his own, then at the others who had fallen into an uneasy silence. Shadowheart raised a skeptical eyebrow, Lae'zel's hand drifted toward her weapon as if expecting treachery, and Karlach simply scratched her head in bewilderment. Even Zel's delighted cooing ceased as she studied the suddenly petrified Batstarion with the first hint of concern crossing her features.

Then the bat – Astarion? Batstarion? – suddenly launched itself from Zel's hands with surprising force. Its wings beat frantically as it first fell and then gained altitude, circling once above the gathered party before darting away toward the city.

"No! Batstarion, come back!" Zel cried, springing to her feet and reaching futilely toward the retreating form.

Shadowheart knocked over her wine glass in the commotion, Minsc bellowed something about tiny winged justice, and Boo scurried under a cushion. Jaheira was already on her feet, attempting to track the bat's trajectory, while Lae'zel muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a Githyanki curse.

Gale stood in the midst of the chaos, knowing with absolute certainty that tomorrow's committee meeting was now the least of their concerns.

[accio-victuuri]

read a book for me. 📚

inspired by people who were curious about the books featured in xz’s video, let’s take a look at what they are. i’d like to think these were pre approved by XZ and are related to his interests. i’m not removing tge possibility that one of these were chosen by someone from xzs or the director himself. i’m tagging this as cpn because there will be some cpn. if you don��t wanna go that route and just enjoy learning about the titles featured, then go ahead. 😉

1. Restoration House by Kennesha Bucks

You don't have to live in your dream house to make your living spaces feel more like home. Home is meant to be a place to belong. A place to gather and connect. A place of beauty. A place to restore your soul. In Restoration House, author and designer Kennesha Buycks will encourage you to embrace your home and your story so you can create mindful spaces that give life to you, your loved ones, and all who enter.

2. LORI WILDE

that red book just says the author’s name and no actual title but if you look her up, she’s all about that romance novel. here is her website if you wanna know what i mean. if you move a bit, the spine of it says “boy” so i think it maybe one of those books that has the cowboys in it!

3. Next is LIT UP, which is a black book. I’m not so sure if it’s a real book and when you search it, there are a couple of contenders. Tho i personally gravitate towards p2 since it’s black and the plot of the story is something i think XZ will enjoy!

it says out of the cubicle and into the real world, it’s like him getting out of his work cubicle years ago and discovering the world.

book overview:

Eddy Gilmore found himself on society’s fringe after being exiled from Corporate America. Despite years of higher education and exemplary service inside a cubicle’s pixelated world, he had no tangible or transferable skills to offer his community. Amazingly, failure was the door into tapping dreams and gifts that had long been ignored as impractical.

This true to life adventure is a pilgrimage into the real world, a place where neighbors make and produce things that sustain life and bring joy. When their eyes were opened to the talents all around them, Eddy and his wife discovered how to produce value themselves, and sank roots into the community. By working together, they are building a life they might never need to retire from.

4. The Interior Design Handbook

Frida Ramstedt believes in thinking about how we decorate, rather than focusing on what we decorate with. We know more today than ever before about design trends, furniture, and knickknacks, and now Frida familiarizes readers with the basic principles behind interior and styling—what looks good and, most of all, why it looks good.

The Interior Design Handbook teaches you general rules of thumb—like what the golden ratio and the golden spiral are, the proper size for a coffee table in relation to your sofa, the optimal height to hang lighting fixtures, and the best ways to use a mood board—complete with helpful illustrations. Use The Interior Design Handbook to achieve a balanced, beautiful home no matter where you live or what your style is.

5. Limits of the Known

A celebrated mountaineer and author searches for meaning in great adventures and explorations, past and present.

David Roberts, "veteran mountain climber and chronicler of adventures" (Washington Post), has spent his career documenting voyages to the most extreme landscapes on earth. In Limits of the Known, he reflects on humanity’s—and his own—relationship to extreme risk. Part memoir and part history, this book tries to make sense of why so many have committed their lives to the desperate pursuit of adventure.

In the wake of his diagnosis with throat cancer, Roberts seeks answers with sharp new urgency. He explores his own lifelong commitment to adventuring, as well as the cultural contributions of explorers throughout history: What specific forms of courage and commitment did it take for Fridtjof Nansen to survive an eighteen-month journey from a record "farthest north" with no supplies and a single rifle during his polar expedition of 1893–96? What compelled Eric Shipton to return, five times, to the ridges of Mt. Everest, plotting the mountain’s most treacherous territory years before Hillary and Tenzing’s famous ascent? What drove Bill Stone to dive 3,000 feet underground into North America’s deepest cave?

What motivates the explorers we most admire, who are willing to embark on perilous journeys and push the limits of the human body? And what is the future of adventure in a world we have mapped and trodden from end to end?

6. Eat, Drink, Nap: Bringing the House Home

The quintessential style, cooking, and home interior book from Soho House, the world's leading members' club.

Since the first Soho House opened its doors over 25 years ago, we've learnt a bit about what works. Contemporary, global yet with something quintessentially English and homely at its heart, this is Soho House style explained by its experts:

- From planning a room to vintage finds: bringing the Soho House look home.

- Our House curator's advice on how to buy, collect and hang art.

- The art of a great night's sleep: how to design the perfect bedroom.

- No-fuss recipes and chef's tips: here's how to make your favourite House dishes.

- Inside Babington: our take on country-house living. Wellies optional.

- Flip-flop glamour and poolside style from Soho House Miami Beach.

- All the secrets of cocktail hour: House tonics and barman's tips.

- Spa treatment at home, DIY facials and chocolate brownies.

Eat Drink Nap, a 300-page highly illustrated book, with a foreword from founder Nick Jones, and photography from leading food and interiors photographers Mark Seelen and Jean Cazals, shares the Soho House blueprint for stylish, modern living, the Soho House way.

7. Styled

It’s easy to find your own style confidence once you know this secret: While decorating can take months and tons of money, styling often takes just minutes. Even a few little tweaks can transform the way your room feels.

At the heart of Styled are Emily Henderson’s ten easy steps to styling any space. From editing out what you don’t love to repurposing what you can’t live without to arranging the most eye-catching vignettes on any surface, you’ll learn how to make your own style magic.

With Emily’s style diagnostic, insider tips, and more than 1,000 unique ideas from 75 envy-inducing rooms, you’ll soon be styling like you were born to do it.

8. The other book i’m seeing is WINTER TID then it cuts off so again it’s tricky to confirm what it is! My best guess is WINTER TIDE but if you google that — i can’t connect how XZ will read that lol.

EDIT: adding this one seen from the alternate MV,

The Tale of the Body Thief by Anne Rice

is a vampire novel by American writer Anne Rice, the fourth in her The Vampire Chronicles series, following The Queen of the Damned (1988). Published in 1992, it continues the adventures of Lestat, specifically his efforts to regain his lost humanity during the late 20th century.

=========

now let’s look at the CPN.

i see fans saying the style related books could be because of his work before. but he is more of a digital and design artist right? he does logos and stuff that can help their brand identity. i don’t remember him being an interior designer. there is also the eat, drink, nap which has topics on cooking and being a good host. these books are making me clown so hard! my head canon is xz is keeping himself busy ( as if he is not busy enough already ) with designing their home. his and wyb’s — if that wasn’t clear enough, that’s what i’m insinuating. if he isn’t traveling, i would imagine he is the type who just wants to spend time at home in between jobs. it is their home. their sanctuary. so xz would make sure that it is according to what they both want and that it’s stylish.

and when he is at home sipping wine, while waiting for Bobo, is he reading a LORI WILDE BOOK? lol. sexy millionaire cowboy you say? 👀👀👀👀

😂😂😂😂😂

or reading something like the LIT UP book which is more up his alley ( but again i’m not sure if this is the exact title )

what is out of place is limits of the known. out of place compared to the theme of the other books, but xz is someone who is into nature and climbing of sorts. but i haven’t seen him climb the way yibo did in ETU. the most popular cpn is that this is yibo’s contribution to the selection. or maybe he read it after yibo and liked it. OR he is also becoming interested in rock climbing — which is not a far off possibility.

-END.

[sillyandquiteawkward]

Do you have any tips/advice for someone doing comics? Like, shorter ones, not necessarily longer form stuff? How to plan a lil scene, set up panels, etc? Anyway, I like your comics a lot, your art is really cool and I hope you have a nice day <3

i feel like i do what you arent supposed to do, but i write a lot of my short comics from the seat of my pants. i have a general idea of what i what to accomplish, sometimes i have some dialogue and stage direction written in my notes app, and i just. draw a rectangle and start going. that tends to be why a lot of my mspaint comics tend to be talking head type deals, haha. ill try to give some proper advice, but im also just a hobbist whos taken a some classes about communication through design and comics years ago.

most comics do well if you establish a scene with a larger set piece, then you can narrow down to characters or actions. show us where we are in space, and the audience can take that knowledge and move along the other panels with a stronger suspension of disbelief. (bc comics are all about giving toys to your reader and hoping they play with you) heres the first page of my anya n swansea comic illustrating this. big location panel, then narrowing down to character moments.

you notice as i focus more on dialogue, that my scenery gets left out. this is bc theres only so much space in a panel, so i need to choose what gets shown. of course this depends on what medium you work with, but the gist is the same amongst all types. dont give your reader TOO much to play with or they might get confused, or will start skimming. not what we want!

for shorter comics, id suggest something eye catching right at the beginning to catch readers attention. if you have multiple "pages" or breaks in the comic, make sure the last panel before the next page is enticing. be it a punchline or cliff hanger, something to keep the reader interested. jingle those keys. in general most short comics need to end on a punchline or satisfaction or deep thought. something for the reader to chew on after their done reading, or to inspire rereading. makes for a satisfying read!

but it also depends on how you want to structure a comic page. this comic of anya and curly i did is very different than the previous one i showed, and i think its one of my fav recent comics. it starts with a weird piece of dialogue that makes you ask "what does that mean" which gets answered by the next panels. theres visual and spoken repetition, theres very little said, and its short and sweet. very easy to read and reread, so its easy to take in, and its easy for the reader to sit with it longer and ponder it more. and be able to draw their own conclusions. play touys with meeee

i think when it comes to planning scenes, it depends on what you want the reader to get out of it. when i was planning this comic page, i really wanted to mention that curlys tear ducts probably dont work, and anyas been wearing the same contact lenses for months! i wanted to showcase their similarities and how they mirror each other narratively and i had the idea to use the onomatopoeia of drip to stand in for the drip of saline. but i didnt have any solid ideas past that. but i do like showcasing mundane sort of events, so i thought maybe just a simple exchange of using saline to wet curlys eye, and then her eyes. initially the idea to literally copy and paste the action of applying the saline was out of ease so i didnt have to draw it again, but i found that it worked for the narrative, so i leaned into that. i flipped anya around to better convey them as on either side of the mirror, and had anya repeat her dialogue.

something else to debate about in layout, is making sure the comic isnt too unbalanced (unless thats a theme/motif youre wanting to work with) in this comic page, anya always remains on the left side, except the first panel where she is on the right. i Could have swapped her and her dialogue in the first panel, so she stays on the left and better mirrors curly in panel 3, but if i did that, the comic would be very left heavy. anyas hair and her clothes are a heavy, dark color, it takes up a lot of visual attention. i thought the comic would look more pleasant for anya to be on the right in the first panel to balance it out, as i didnt find much narrative use for her to be on the left side always. the reader would still read the comic left to right and follow the typical reading pattern regardless. to make up for this, in panel 3, curly mirrors the angle she's at in panel 1, its not an exact mirror, but its enough that i was satisfied with it.

in other comics, it might be easier to play with how the eye would move across the page. regardless, its something important to keep in mind. you have to assume how the reader will read your comic, and if youre going to be breaking the rules, you need to put in lots of safeguards to make sure the reader can understand what youre doing. too much dialogue in confusing places? work with the speech bubbles to create hierarchy and flow so the reader knows how to read everything in order. number one rule of design we were taught was people are stupid, so you have to play at their level, or baby proof your level DX designers and artists know all the rules, but readers dont have a grasp on the rules themselves, just the vibes of the rules.

the most important thing with comics is legibility. if the reader cant understand or follow the comic, it might as well be like them not reading it at all. and the worst thing that could happen is they think what youre doing is pointless. so you have to juggle what you want to accomplish, what the reader can understand, what the medium limits you to, and what rules you think you can get away with breaking.

hope this is some sort of satisfying answer! i feel like im always hit or miss with advice XD;;

[tatiejosie]

I got lazy and decided I'd just go with a minimalist look. hehe

I wrote a short one-shot where Donald cooks for Eve and I didn't feel legitimate enough to just post it by itself, so I drew this as well. like a little. advertisement. perhaps even an illustration. who knows.

a broth of bones and memories [cross-posted on Ao3]

[Just a heads-up for the contents, but it's really not serious: nutrition-oriented food talk, implied disordered eating, dissociation]

Donald moves with steady, mechanical precision, letting the ambient sounds of the kitchen anchor him. The soft hiss of oil in the pan. The quiet rattle of water just beginning to boil. These small, ordinary sounds were structured, predictable. They reached down through layers of memory and kept him grounded in the present, keeping his thoughts from drifting too far away. A generous portion of rice simmers in a pot, soaking up a deep, golden broth.

Donald doesn’t cook individual meals. Not for himself, really. He cooks meals in bulk, stores them away, and promptly forgets about them. It was just a habit, one carried over from childhood, when he spent evenings helping his mother prepare food for the week.

His memories weren’t as sharp as they used to be, but he could still recall the quiet afternoons with his mother. Him perched on a stool, watching her hands work. She peeled potatoes with swift, fluid motions, the skin falling in long ribbons onto newspaper. He used to stare, mesmerized by her hands, by how effortlessly they moved. She made it look so easy. He’d glance down at his own clumsy hands, still too small to hold a peeler properly, and grit his teeth at how slow he was. He’d try his hardest to keep up with his mom’s pace, and every slip would nick his skin, every potato left dimpled and uneven. Then, he’d get teased for his lack of patience.

His hands had grown since then. Larger. Steadier. Stronger.

Now they moved even faster than hers ever had: he was methodical, calculated. A blade felt natural in his grip, whether it was peeling vegetables or slicing through flesh. His movements were smooth and practiced. The rhythm of slicing, scraping, and tossing things into the pan was nearly soundless. Flawless. But it didn’t feel the same. There was no sense of pride in it. No satisfaction. Just muscle memory. The ease of repetition. His hands weren’t like hers. They didn’t feel like his, either.

His hands, his skills - they felt like the rest of him: mechanical. Hollow.

He shakes the thought away and returns to the task at hand.

Having a batch of broth in the freezer always comes in handy. Donald had learned to never let vegetable scraps go to waste - carrot peels, onion skins, celery ends, whatever he had on hand. Simmered down for hours, they leached out minerals and vitamins: potassium from the potatoes, vitamin C from the bell peppers, iron from the spinach stems. A little turmeric for anti-inflammatory properties. A splash of vinegar to draw the nutrients from the chicken bones.

Donald was aware that he could afford to let go of that habit. Get some high-end products, the good stuff. Hell, he could afford to have a personal cook if he really wanted to have one less chore to do. But cooking was one of these things that he held on to. He felt disconnected from a lot of things, and that included the most basic human functions. Sleeping, eating. However, he still enjoyed cooking as an activity. The act of transforming raw ingredients into a proper meal, something that will nourish a person, give them fuel for the day, get them through another mission - it felt so fundamentally human, so very intimate, he wanted to hold on to this. As a remaining way to connect to others, even when he felt disconnected from himself.

He rarely felt hunger anymore. Not in any way that counted. But Eve would.

She was probably still curled up on the couch, half-buried under the old blanket she liked, knocked out cold from the kind of nap only exhaustion could bring. Missions had been piling up. She was pushing herself hard lately. He didn’t question it - but he made sure she had somewhere quiet to land when it caught up to her. Superhero work was brutal, and Eve burned through calories like a furnace. She needed something simple but nourishing, something easy to eat. Her meal would need carbohydrates for fuel, fats for satiety, protein for muscle repair. He stirs the rice once, watching the starch thicken the broth into something creamy and rich. It needs some fat. Something to coat the stomach and slow down digestion, to give lasting energy instead of just a sharp spike. Heavy cream would do.

When he opens the fridge, he notices - again - how different it looks.

It used to be all glass containers, perfectly stacked, labeled with dates. Bottled water. Kiwi’s wet food. Nowadays, there are signs of someone else. Applesauce pouches for quick sugar. A jug of the lychee juice she likes. Seasonal fruits in a bag, waiting to be chopped and added into oatmeal. A few soda cans tucked into the door - probably some new flavors that she wants to try. (He knows it’ll be way too sweet for him. It always is.)

The carton of heavy cream sits in the corner, half-used. He reaches for it.

He pours the cream into the rice, watching pale ribbons swirl through the broth before vanishing into the heat. It smelled rich - comforting. But it needed more. Protein. Something quick. He opens the fridge again, pulls out two eggs, and cracks them into the pan. The whites curl and puff in the hot oil, hissing quietly. They bloom at the edges, yolks still intact. They need to stay soft, so they can break over the rice and mix in with the cream. The borders need to be brown and crunchy, for contrast in texture. A sprinkle of salt, a crack of pepper.

A soft thump from the living room.

Donald doesn’t even need to look. He could pick out that sound from a room full of chaos.

“Meow!”

As expected.

Kiwi pads into the kitchen with purpose, tail held high, her round frame wobbling with every step. She gives a cheerful trill as she settles at his feet, eyes gleaming with interest and anticipation.

“No,” he says, flatly - preemptively - just as she bunches her little paws like she’s preparing to climb his leg.

He doesn’t look down. He simply turns off the heat and keeps his focus on the pan. The rice goes into a deep bowl, steam curling up in fragrant ribbons. The eggs follow, their crispy edges crackling gently as they meet the heat below. He adds a spoon, not a fork. Eve eats fast when she’s tired, and the spoon made it easier.

Donald brings the bowl into the living room, quickly followed by Kiwi. The fading daylight tints the room in a dusky, blue glow. 

Eve stirs, breathing in slowly as she blinks herself awake. Her limbs stretch beneath the blanket, then flop back down with a quiet groan. She’s still in her suit; scratched up, a little bruised, her hair a wild tangle of orange that caught the light like fire.

“Ugh… how long was I out?” she mumbles, rubbing at her face.

“Not long. Maybe forty-five minutes,” Donald replies, placing the bowl on the coffee table. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” she groans, letting her head fall back again.

He nudges the table a bit closer. “It’s nothing fancy. But it’s warm, and it’ll hit the right spots. Carbs, fat, protein; you’ll bounce back faster.”

She cracks an eye open at him, huffing in amusement. “... You always pitch meals like you're writing a nutrition label.”

He doesn’t answer that. Just watches as she sits up and grabs the bowl without hesitation. She hovers over it for a second, breathing in the comforting scent. Broth-rich rice, creamy and fragrant, the eggs fried just right, golden and crisp at the edges.

“Well - this smells amazing, first of all.”

She takes a big spoonful, straight to her mouth.

“... and it tastes amazing, too!” Her words come out muffled by food, and she gives a low, pleased hum, laying back against the couch as she savors what is probably her first real meal of the day. She really needed something comforting after the utter brutality of the past few days, her ears had been ringing non-stop with new directions to follow and more missions piling up. It’s over now. She’s sore, a little disoriented, absolutely exhausted, but she’s at rest now.

She sighs, and she looks at Donald with a grateful smile.

“... Seriously. You’re the best.” 

Donald smiles in return. “Glad you like it.”

He steps back toward the table, and he directs his attention to his laptop. Of course he’d get back to work right away. “Let me know if you’re still hungry,” he adds.

Eve looks over at him again - softly, hesitantly. The kind of look someone gives when they’re not quite sure how to say thank you properly. She’s still learning how to be taken care of.

She sinks deeper into the couch, one leg tucked under her as she digs in her bowl. She was allowed to be tired here. Kiwi, who had been lurking nearby with a hopeful twitch of her tail, takes the lingering silence as her cue. She leaps softly onto the couch, a round, warm weight that nestles against Eve’s hip.

“Hi, little fruit…~” She coos with a soft smile, her hand coming to brush against the cat’s fur. Kiwi responds with a pleased purr, kneading gently at the blanket before curling up tight.

The sound fills the quiet space - low, steady, grounding. Donald watches for a few seconds longer, basking in the ambient noises that filled his home.

He used to dissociate easily when working - slip too far into tasks just to keep the noise at bay. But now, it’s different. The weight of a sleepy girl on his couch. The soft purr of a cat who chose to stay close. The smell of broth lingering in the air. These things anchored him to a reality that he, for once, welcomed. He didn’t feel entirely human most days. But this... this helped.

Caring for someone, not out of duty, but because it mattered - it had begun to stitch something back together in him.