#ooc: or it simply makes sense to do it Like That in the context of this character. i like when it happens

[dr-jonathan-fanshawe]

This whole shit is a melodrama i swear. Who keeps coming up with these plot twists??

I'd like to know that, too.

[babyb1ues]

A little something about Xavier and his display of jealousy

It’s not even the first time we’ve seen him come across as bitchy, jealous or stand off-ish with other people when it comes to the MC, but regardless of that, I think the reason one might think it’s OOC or weird of him to be /this/ jealous is simply because it’s never made clear where it’s coming from, as in, the root of it all—granted, it shouldn’t have to be spelled out, it’s right there for one to read if you sit with the context, his character and try to understand the situation beyond just what you’ve been presented.

I don’t see it as lack of confidence—I do not believe even for a second that he feels inferior to others, humans or not, I think, for him, this sort of jealousy is a very complex thing that comes from a deep need and fear, which in turns spills into a certain type of dominance that he already naturally seemed to carry, but that’s a very different subject.

I’m talking about the physical need of being with someone he already lost twice, the years of missing and yearning, that’s why I also believe there’s something so very carnal about the way he behaves and, well, wants. He thrives on being with the one he loves, he’s clingy like that. The perceived notion of someone he loves being taken from him, in any way, I think, sort of puts him in fight mode—he’s snappy, pouty, bitchy, sometimes. He’s already been in a position of abandonment before, one time unwilling and another one where he saw no other choice but to leave, but it’s not just about that, but also about the loss of no longer being understood, of not being seen as who he is, since that’s the beginning of this connection for him—and now that he’s found her again, by some sort of miracle, I feel it makes sense for his hackles to be raised. Here he is, trying to make up for lost centuries, and someone comes and wants to whisk her attention away? In his head, he won’t have that. Also, I don’t know if he believes other people have pure intentions (probably not) so I wonder if he’s also protective about that.

This article does a good job in explaining different types of jealousy and where they come from, so with all of that, I think we just have to understand the basis of his character, the trauma and history, and how all those past experiences manifest into strong emotions that he’s kept to himself for so long, also another reason why he’s generally intense. For the first time, he’s been living since he’s been alive, and now, well, he’s running out of time :p

[krowlovesinazuma]

Hi! 🪶 anon back at it again for my Kujou Sara BS~

Can I ask for Yandere!Kujou Sara and Raiden Shogun (Separate) (And yeah, the Shogun) HCs? When you said you did soft yandere, that's the type of yandere I like best anyway, so it works out! Thank you for reading!

-🪶

Read this prologue for context! Also sorry if I made the puppet too OOC, it's hard to write for her ;-;

Scenario: Soft Yandere

Characters: Kujou Sara, Raiden Shogun (Puppet)

Sara as a yandere would be complicated, but believable if you're a holy being. She already worships the shogun, so it would be no surprise if a mythical being of legends and tradition suddenly shows up in the flesh.

However, it would be complex thanks to her previous devotion to the shogun. Yes the two of you are allies and formed a pact of sorts, but would it still not count as a betrayal if she worshipped you as well as her archon? These thoughts trouble her often.

Of course, being a general, she knows better than to reside in inaction just because of confusion, and so she shows her loyalty while her heart remains unsure. Bringing you gifts, safety in travels, and simply being a reliable partner, she stays by your side.

The answer to her dilemma honestly depends on how you treat her, both before and after your reincarnation into the world, but no matter what her decision is, she'll remain your dutiful follower, and trusted cohort.

If you used her plenty in gameplay, and showed her attention above others in the world, she'll succumb to her own desires, but it'll be hard and awkward. Get ready for some stiff hugs, and a lot of blushing, she's trying her best.

Give her time though, and her showings of affection will get bolder and bolder. Offering you dates, gifts, and everything in between, she's ready to show how much she loves you, even if it might not be enough to truly show her devotion.

If you don't show her that much attention however, surprisingly, she's one of the few people that manages to suppress her intense desires, and instead inserts you into her life in a more subtle way, treating you highly, yet distantly.

It may lead to her being a little more workaholic and devoted to the shogun for a while, but she does eventually get over it, even if her desires are still within her. Her will is strong, and her mentality is even stronger!

"Please, do not apologize for gracing me with you presence, creator. Even if you're correct, with it taking away time from my duties, your comments about taking needed breaks are also important, and I see every moment speaking with you as an opportunity to relax. So please, don't be afraid to visit more."

This would definitely be an obsession that doesn't spark in an instant, but builds up over the years that she spends as a ruler. When she was created, Ei made sure to include you in her mentality, to make sure she didn't treat the myths and folklore of you as nothing.

That's why, knowing about your legends, yet only that and not much more was a slow burn of desire to meet you, and obey you directly, much like Ei silently prayed and hoped that you could perhaps bless her region.

Her priorities were still quite screwed when it came to governing over the lands, but much like she made sure to mantain festivities alive, she made sure that the belief in your legends and stories was still alive, even if may be against her complete rule.

When she felt the signs of your coming through the traveler and the other Inazuman folk that were growing stronger, and seemingly ignoring her complete rule, she knew it must have been a sign from you. In fact, she was probably knew about your presence before Ei.

That's why, when it normally should've been time for her end, she showed a strange sense of regret, as she came to realize just how against you she was in the end, and that was enough to convince the others to keep her alive, especially if you spare her through your screen.

I won't divulge into what her role would be now, but she'd have a strange sense of regret and shame lingering in her soul, even though she believed to have listened to her commands to perfection. Did she do something wrong to have both Ei and you against her?

Even if you show up in her world eventually, I could see her being troubled with her actions and your reception to them. Would you accept her? Would you even like her after what she's done? Did she deserve be grazed with your presence at all?

That's why she'll remain hidden from sight, away from the judging stare that you may use towards her. Ei is much more deserving of your attention, and she understands that. It may be up to you to face her yourself...

[yoonkinii]

Waiting...

Based on Fluffleboo's post Warning(s): death, mentions of death, hopelessness, murder, kidnapping, grief, depressive episodes, panic attacks, throwing up, mention of attempted su!c!de. Masterlist I hope I did a good job with her idea.

Note: I did change some of the events that take place but this idea and writing was heavily based on Fluffleboo (@fluffleboo) and their brain from coming up with this. Thank you for allowing me to use your idea and to create something with it. 

Reader is female (sorry I have not mastered being able to write with no gender yet), no use of Y/N, reader is of the elf lineage (makes astarion being gone for 200 year and the reader not being dead or super old make sense) 

I should also make it known that the reader and astarion didn’t live in Baldur’s Gate at the beginning, it wouldn’t make sense if I didn’t change it so lets pretend they just lived in another major city. 

LOTS of flashbacks, I’m sorry if it gets confusing but I wanted to write it in a way where there’s backstory to everything. If you need any clarification, let me know and I’ll do my best to explain it. It sort of gives context before having a flashback tied in with the context before it leads up to the main point with no more flashbacks.

Astarion has Green eyes Pre-Vampyr Spawn. Astarion is a little OOC cause teehee. 

I did include parts of the song “Will you fall in love with me again” in here, don’t be surprised if you see them. 

She remembers the night he vanished - the way the stars burned bright, oblivious to the absence that would soon consume her. She had woken to an empty bed, the sheets cold where he should have been. At first, there was no panic, only reason. He had told her he would be late, something about unrest in the streets, disputes over the new laws he passed. 

So she simply sighed, turned over, and let sleep reclaim her. 

It wasn’t until the next evening, when the sun hung high and the space beside her remained untouched, that the panic finally set in. 

“You’re staring again.”

His voice was smooth, warm like the golden light slipping through the curtains, casting his skin in a soft glow. He sat against the headboard, silver-framed reading glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose, a stack of parchment resting in his hands. 

She shifted beneath the sheets, the fabric rustling as she propped herself up on her forearms. The blanket sliding down, baring the curve of her back to the morning air. 

“Can’t help it,” she murmured, tilting her head with a smile. “You’re absolutely enchanting.”

He snorted, amusement flickering across his face as he glanced at her over the rim of his glasses. “Enchanting?” he echos, setting the papers aside on the dark wooden table beside the bed.

She moved with him, closing the space between them, her body molding against his as if drawn by an unseen force. A sigh left her lips as she rested her cheek against his shoulder, letting herself sink into the warmth of him, of the moment. 

She hummed. “Of course. You practically glow in the sun - like a feline.” 

A sudden pinch at her hip makes her squeal, laughter bubbling from her throat as she tries pushing him away, her hands pressed against his chest. He only tightened his hold, pulling her even closer, silencing her giggles with a kiss that stole the breath straight from her lungs. 

Their lips hovered, teasing, their words nothing more than whispers against the soft curve of each other’s mouths. 

“Are you calling me an enchanting feline?”

Her fingers found his hair ,carding through the silken strands, untangling the knots sleep had left behind. His eyes, green as polished emeralds, gazed at her like she had hung the stars themselves. 

“Of course not,” she said, voice softer now, reverent. She let her fingers trail down, curling at the nape of his neck. 

“You’re my enchanting husband.”

“Your husband is dead.” 

The words were distant, muffled, as if spoken through water. They echoed in her mind, looping over and over, a cruel, inescapable refrain. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

Your husband is dead. 

She falls apart in the parlor room of her house. 

She collapses in the parlor, the weight of those words tearing her apart at the seams. 

She searched - Gods, she searched. Every alleyway, every dim-lit tavern, every shadowed corner of the city. She scoured the streets until her boots split at the seams, until her hands were caked in filth, until grief hollowed her cheeks and darkened her eyes. She pleaded with the Flaming Fist, her voice raw from desperation, begging them to look harder, to do more. 

Weeks dragged into months. And then, one day, they stopped looking. 

Bile rose in her throat, spilling onto the floor in a sickening splatter as she doubled over on the couch. The room spun, too loud, too quiet, too dull. Through blurred vision, she barely registered the subtle grimaces behind the thin veil of sympathy. 

Hands settled on her, cradling her like a wounded thing, whispering empty comforts. Hollow reassurances that everything would be alright. But how could anything be alright when everything was lost? 

The words didn’t feel real. They were an ill-fitting mask over an unbearable truth, easier to swallow than the vast, gaping unknown. Bandits. Wild Beasts. A moment of misfortune that stole him away. But there was nothing. No body. No proof. Just a verdict, wrapped in empty condolences. 

The home they had built together became a mausoleum, haunted by laughter that no longer filled its halls. Days blurred together, each one as lifeless as the last. Friends told her to grieve, to let go, to move on. 

But how could she, when there was no grave to mourn over?

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. 

The hearth bathed the room in golden light, its warmth chasing away the lingering chill of the night. The fire crackled and popped, filling the silence with its steady rhythm, its flickering glow bright enough for her to make out the inked words on the pages of her book. 

She nestled deeper into the maroon velvet of the chaise lounge, the fabric soft against her skin. A cotton blanket draped over her frame, cocooning her in comfort. It was a quiet night, peaceful. Or at least, it had been.

The ornate wooden doors of the manor opened with a soft creak, followed by the unmistakable sound of his groan echoing through the halls - frustrated, tired. The noise grew louder as he made his way toward her, his presence a storm rolling in to disturb the calm.

She didn’t look up when he rounded the couch, didn’t shift her attention from the book in her hands even as his briefcase hit the floor with a muted thud. 

“How was work, my love? She asked, voice lilting with amusement. 

Rather than answer immediately, he slotted himself between her legs, resting his head against her lower stomach with a dramatic sigh. His groan vibrated against her skin, and she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. One hand fell from her book, fingers threading lazily through his hair. 

“I take it that it went well?”

He scoffed, shifting just enough that she could feel the eye rolls that accompanied it. 

“Oh, of course,” he drawled, “If you consider imbeciles squabbling over meaningless matters without reaching a single useful conclusion, then yes - today was absolutely splendid.”

Her shoulders bounces in silent laughter as she flipped the page. Before she could read another word, the book was plucked from her hands, stolen in one swift motion. She barely had time to protest before he spoke again. 

“Let’s go somewhere.”

She arched a brow as he propped his chin on her stomach, gazing up at her. Absentmindedly, her fingers trailed from his hair to cradle his cheek, thumb sweeping gently across his cheekbone. 

“And where exactly would we go?” 

He sighed as if the answer should have been obvious. “Anywhere.” His brow furrowed, lips pressing into a soft pout. Looking up at her through his lashes, he murmured, “Let’s just leave. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere it’s just us. I want uninterrupted time with you, away from- “ he groaned again, “gods-damned idiots.”

She hummed, feigning contemplation, “Anywhere?”

His eyes brightened, brimming with something she was sure she mirrored back at him. Love. He looked like a child promised a long-awaited treat, excitement shimmering in his gaze. 

“Anywhere,” he confirmed, nodding eagerly. 

She exhaled a quiet laugh. “I suppose we can- when we get the chance.” 

His grin was instant, sharp and boyish, his joy utterly unrestrained. Before she could say more, he pushed himself up, leaning in just enough to steal a kiss- brief but lingering, leaving her chasing the ghost of it as he pulled away. 

“It’s settled, then. I’ll handle things at work, and once it’s all arranged, we’ll go.”

Tilting her head, she watched him, bemused by the way he practically glowed with anticipation. “You make it sound as if this trip is going to be enchanting.”

He dropped to his knees before her, fingers curling around her hands with reverence, as if she were something fragile, something sacred. Her heart stuttered, warmth rushing to her cheeks. 

“Oh, it will be,” he murmured, lips curving into something sly. “As enchanting as a feline.”

She huffed an incredulous laugh, ready to tease him, only for the words to die in her throat as he lifted her hand to his lips. His mouth pressed softly against her knuckles - against the delicate band of silver circling her finger. 

His voice was barely more than a whisper, a vow spoken against her skin. 

“For you, I would do anything. Any chance I got.”

But they never got their chance. 

The carriage swayed with the uneven rhythm of the dirt road, jostling her body with every dip and rise. She barely noticed. Her fingers twisting her wedding band absently, rolling the cool metal over her skin again and again as she gazed out the window. The forest stretched endlessly beyond the glass, its foreign trees casting long shadows in the fading light. 

She had left everything behind. Sold everything she owned in pursuit of a ghost. The acceptance others spoke of never came, nor did the quiet surrender that grief was meant to bring. How could she believe he was gone when there was no proof? No body, no grave - only silence. Her heart had never settled. Her future had become a weight, a chore she carried rather than a path she walked with purpose. 

So she had set out, wordlessly, determined to reclaim what had been stolen from her.

Two hundred years.

Two hundred years of searching, of chasing whispers across the vast expanse of Faerûn. She scoured city after city, hired investigators, pleaded with mercenaries, begged the gods themselves. Each inquiry ended the same.

“Sorry. We couldn’t find anything about your husband.”

Again and again, the words repeated until they were carved in her bones, hollowing her out with every rejection. Slowly, hope had withered. And with it, her very soul. 

Then, when she had nothing left - when she had stood at the edge of a balcony, staring down the yawning abyss below - she overheard the murmured conversation of tenants beneath her. A city saved. Heroes who had risen from the darkness to pull Baldur’s Gate back from the brink. 

It was a city she had never searched, one she had long dismissed as too distant, too unlikely. But hope, weak and flickering, ignited once more. If he wasn’t there, then perhaps these so-called heroes could help. 

She had stepped away from the ledge and set out that very night. 

“We’re here, My lady.”

The driver’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She barely acknowledged him as she stepped from the carriage, pressing the fee into his hands without a word. He thanked her, but she was already walking.

Before her stood the great gates of Baldur’s Gate, scarred by battle, the remnants of war still etched into the stone. And beyond them - a sight unlike any other. 

Fae, humans, tieflings, githyanki, orcs, halflings, dragonborn, dwarfs, drow - so many walking the streets, their lives intertwining in a way that made the city feel more alive than any she had visited before. But beneath the movement, beneath the rebuilding, there was a quiet grief that settled over the people like dust. She recognized it well. 

No one spared her a second glance. Not for her sullen expression, not for the way her clothes hung from her frame, weathered by wind and rain. The rich burgundy fabric of her gown had dulled with time, its once - soft texture long since roughened by travel. But she had never cared for the stares, nor the whispered opinions of those who thought a woman should not cross the realm in such impractical clothing. 

Her dress had been tailored for survival - sturdy linen layers beneath flowing skirts allowed for swift movement, hidden slits cut along the sides ensuring she could run, ride, fight if she needed to. A wide leather belt cinched her waist, pouches filled with coin, letters, maps, herbs, and the one thing she never parted with. 

A single, tattered parchment. 

Her fingers brushed over it through the fabric. She never unfolded it anymore - couldn’t bear to. Time had stolen most of the image, leaving only the faintest remnants behind. But his face remained. Always. Smiling down at her blurred form, forever untouched by the years that had worn her down to nothing.

A deep-hooded cloak, midnight blue and heaving with the weight of travel, draped over her shoulders, shielding her from both the elements and prying eyes. Her boots, laced to her knees, were scuffed but strong, having carried her across cobblestones, through forests, over mountains. The only ornament she still wore was the one that mattered most. 

Her wedding ring. 

Cheers and applause rang through the streets, drawing her attention. A crowd had gathered in the square, their voices an excited hum of anticipation. She approached on instinct, weaving through the bodies, catching snippets of conversation.

The heroes of Baldur’s Gate. 

Then, with a flourish, the massive linen covering the crowded monument was pulled away. 

A statue stood beneath it, towering over the gathered crowd, the figures carved in stone were unfamiliar - strangers cast in heroism. But then her eyes caught a familiar curl, a detail so small yet unmistakable. 

The world shifted. 

Her breath came short, uneven, a trembling exhale past her lips as her hands fumbled for her belt. Her fingers found the parchment, carefully unfolding the delicate edges, barely breathing as she held it up beside the statue. 

Her vision blurred, darting between the image in her hands and the face carved in stone. 

It was him.

“Wow! That drawing looks great! Where did you get that?”

She jolted, nearly dropping the parchment at the sudden voice. Her head snapped to the side, meeting the keen, amused gaze of a tiefling woman, 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced her voice to work, though it came out broken, trembling. “You…You know this man?”

She clutched the image close to her chest, as if afraid it would be taken from her.

The tiefling grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Who doesn’t? That’s Astarion!”

A sob tore from her throat before she could stop it. 

The tiefling’s expression shifted from amusement to alarm as she stumbled back slightly, uncertain how to react. Awkwardly, she patted her shoulder, offering hesitant comfort. 

But nothing else mattered. 

It was him

It was Astarion. 

“Doesn’t this whole ordeal seem rather…unnecessary?”

Astarion’s voice dripped with amused skepticism as he stood beside her in the grand wedding hall, his arms loosely at his side. His wife-to-be arched a brow, tilting her head to look up at him, arms crossed over the intricate bodice of her gown. 

“Are you telling me that wanting a painting of this moment is pointless?”

Astarion blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His lips parted, the sharp edges of his teeth flashing as he realized his misstep. 

“No!” The word shot out of him in haste. “I just don’t see the appeal. Why capture us in paint when you can gaze upon my magnificence whenever you please?”

He puffed his chest with theatrical pride, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. 

She clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes as she playfully smacked his chest. “I want a painting to remember this day, Astarion. It’s not as though I can wear a gown like this every day.”

His gaze flickered to the silent painter, whose brush moved in steady strokes across parchment, capturing their every detail. Then, inevitably, his eyes found her again. 

She was radiant. 

The gown she wore was a masterpiece of moonlight and devotion, woven from dreams and stitched with quiet reverence. Soft ivory fabric rippled with her every movement, delicate yet unyielding - much like the woman who wore it. Silver embroidery curled along the bodice like ivy climbing an ancient trellis, glimmering under the light, a quiet tribute to the stars beneath which they had once whispered their vows. 

The sheer sleeves draped over her arms like mist rolling over the sea, tapering into fitted cuffs embroidered with ancient runes of love and protection. The skirt cascaded around her in layered waves, each panel split to allow freedom - because she was never one to be caged, not even by tradition. And beneath it all, the faintest glimpse of deep red silk peeked through every step, a secret only the wind and her beloved would see. 

Astarion’s arms slipped around her waist, drawing her closer. She turned easily in his hold, gazing up at him with an expectant look - waiting for him to redeem himself. 

His fingers trailed along the line of her spine, his voice lowering to a teasing murmur. “I wouldn’t be opposed to you wearing this every day.”

She hummed in mock consideration, her hands smoothing over his shoulders, tracing the fine fabric of his own wedding attire. “Really? And would you wear this every day?”

His coat was a study in elegance, the deep midnight hie reminiscent of a sky on the cusp of twilight. Tailored to perfection, it framed him effortlessly, the silver embroidery tracing the high collar and cuffs like constellations mapping the heavens. It was a quiet nod to the night he had first whispered his love to her beneath the stars. Beneath the coat, a dark crimson waistcoat clung to his form, the color rich yet subtle - like aged wine, like the bloom of roses, like the depth of passion he could never quite put into words. His trousers, dark as shadow, were tucked into polished leather boots, completing the look as man both regal and untamed. 

Astarion looked skyward in feigned contemplation, biting the inside of this cheek. “Even though I do look devastatingly grand,” he admitted, “I suppose it would be a terrible inconvenience for everyday wear.”

She laughed, and the sound sent a ripple of warmth through him. It was music - an immortal melody he would never tire of. 

His grin widened as he pulled her impossibly closer, reveling in the mirth between them, in the love that bound them tighter than any vow ever could.

The painter, silent and steady, allowed himself the barest of smiles as he etched the moment onto parchment - a portrait not of nobility or grandeur, but of devotion, of adoration, of a love that would endure beyond the confines of time.  

She had spent the entire day tearing through the city, asking - no, begging - for someone, anyone to tell her where she could find Astarion. But no one knew. No one even seemed certain where the other so-called heroes of Baldur’s Gate were, or if they still lingered within the city walls. 

Her heart felt heavy as if it were a stone in her chest. There was no way this was a coincidence where a man that looked just like him happened to be the hero of Baldur’s Gate. Questions flooded her mind, swallowing her head whole. Where had he been this whole time? Did he simply just leave her? Why did he never reach out to her? Was he alright? 

With every unanswered question, her heart sank deeper, heavy as a tone lodged in her chest. It couldn’t be coincidence - there was no way. A man who looked exactly like him, standing among the city’s saviors, bearing the name she had whispered a thousand times in her loneliness? It had to be him. It had to be. 

By the time night had fallen, the bustling streets had emptied, lanterns flickering along the roads in a warm glow that did little to ease the cold settling within her. The city, once alive with energy, had quieted, its liveliness slipping into shadows. And she - she felt just as empty. 

She wandered without direction, cursing the gods for filling her with hope only to rip it away once more. 

A harsh breath shuddered through her, and she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes until she saw stars, willing the rising grief back down her throat. She needed to stop. Needed to find a place to rest. Needed- 

“I had heard a woman was looking for me all day…but to think she was so persistent she’d still be out this late into the night.”

Her entire body went rigid. The voice came from behind her, smooth, familiar, yet laced with something…different. 

Slowly, she turned, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and lips. 

And there he was, standing before him, but it wasn’t him all the same. 

The night clung to him like an old lover, and he had dressed to match its embrace - sharp, elegant, and just dangerous enough to make it thrilling.

His coat, deep as the void between stars, fit his frame as though sculpture for him alone. The high collar framed his jawline, silver embroidery curling along the lapels and cuffs, catching in the dim glow of the lanterns. He had never cared for unnecessary fastenings, and it seemed like he still did not - the coat remained open, revealing a waistcoat of deep crimson silk, rich and smooth as spilled wine. Beneath it, his shirt was a whisper of pale linen, barely fastened at the collar, as though formality had never quite suited him. 

His sleeves were fitted, stopping just as his wrists, where rings of silver and blackened iron gleamed against his pale fingers. His trousers, dark as shadow, moved with him, fluid and effortless, allowing both grace and lethality in equal measure. They tucked neatly into polished leather boots, laced tight to his knees. 

He was still beautiful. Still striking. Still- 

Her gaze dropped to his hands.

She stopped breathing

Among the trinkets and rings, among the trophies of a life she did not know, sat a single band of silver. 

Her wedding ring. The one she had placed on his finger all those years ago. 

She swallowed hard, her voice barely more than a whisper against the night.

“Is it you?”

His ears twitched at the sound of her voice, his jaw tightening as he met her gaze, recognition flashing in his eyes. A single, sharp breath left him as he bit down hard on his lips, willing the emotions away. 

She took a step forward, hesitant but unable to stop herself. He was different now - so painfully different. His skin was pale, too pale. His eyes, once warm, were now an unnatural shade of crimson. And at his throat, the scar of two puncture wounds sat like cruel reminders of something stolen..

Yet she kept walking. Closer. Closer, until only a breath separated them, until all she had to do was lift her hand and- 

“You look different,” she murmured, her voice softer than she meant it to be. 

Astarion inhaled sharply. 

He fought the instinct to reach for her, to pull her into his arms and never let go. Fought the urge to grasp onto the one thing that had ever made him feel human. The woman who had saved him time and time again without ever knowing. 

His memories had been fragmented, buried beneath time and centuries of torment. But her - her touch, her voice, her scent, like the first breath of spring - he had never truly forgotten. Not even when everything else had slipped through his fingers like sand.

Yet now, standing before him, she looked…broken. Her clothes were tattered, her body worn with the weight of grief he knew all too well. She had searched for him. For two hundred years, she had searched. 

And what had he done?

He had let her believe he was gone.

Her hand lifted. Slowly, cautiously. He hesitated, uncertain - until, finally, he let her take it. 

The moment her fingers curled around his, she flinched.

His stomach churned.

She hadn’t expected his touch to be so cold. And gods, how that realization twisted something deep inside him.

He wanted to run. Run from his guilt, his sins, the weight of what he had become. But he had promised himself - when he finally killed his tormentor, when he freed himself - that he would stop running. 

Even if it killed him. 

“You eyes are tired,” she murmured, searching his face. “Your frame lighter. Your smile torn.”

A lump formed in his throat. 

He could hear her heartbeat, rapid and uneven, like a caged hummingbird. 

Then came the question. Soft. Fragile. 

“Is it really you, my love?

His breath hitched. His voice - gods, his voice, usually so smooth, so full of confidence - shook as he answered. 

“I am not the man you fell in love with. I am not the man you once adorned. I am not your kind and gentle husband. And I am not the love you knew before.”

He turned away from her. He couldn’t beat to see the pain in her face, the way her hope cracked like glass beneath his words. 

Shame clawed through him. Not just for the past she did not yet know, but for the time he had wasted, for never trying to find her. He had been free for months now, and not once had he tried. Perhaps, deep down, he had feared what he would find. Feared what his absence had done to her. 

A hand touched his cheek, warm against the cold.

His eyes fluttered shut. Instinctively, he leaned into her palm, the way he had so many times before. 

When he opened them again, she was smiling. Soft. Loving. 

Tears brimmed at her lashes.

“I still think you look rather enchanting,” she whispered.

A shaky scoff left him, something akin to a laugh. “As enchanting as a feline?”

She let out a broken laugh of her own, inhaling sharply. “That’s…weird. That’s something only my husband would say.”

He didn’t think. He just moved, pulling her against him, arms tightening as though she might vanish if he let go. 

She sobbed into his chest, body shaking with the force of it. He buried his face in her hair, and for the second time in centuries, he let himself cry willingly. 

She pulled back just enough to cradle his face in her hands, thumbs wiping away his silent tears. 

“I will fall in love with you over and over again,” she swore, her voice trembling. “I don’t care how, where, or when. No matter how long it’s been, you’re mine. Please…” she choked on her own breath. “Don’t tell me you’re not the same person. You’ll always be my husband. And gods, Astarion, I have been waiting for so long.”

His lips parted, but no words came. 

So he held her again. 

He had so much to tell her. So much she needed to know.

But for now, he would hold her. 

Because after waiting for two hundred years���

She had finally found him. 

[prof-peach]

Bit ooc but I have a question. How you do go about planing out your PLA comic? Like how do you actually turn your ideas/ storyline into comic form? Is it chapter to chapter or do you have the whole idea already planned out? Trying to find my own way in comic making so I’m just wondering if you could give any advice. Feel free to ignore if you don’t feel comfortable answering

So, at first this was al i could think to send.

because its incredibly accurate to my process.

Jokes aside, a lot of how i work is back and forth chaos, fighting with ideas until im happy with them. I will start with a list (usually not written down because im unhinged and keep a ot of it in my brain) and organise it in a way that makes sense to the situation, in this case workign with a game with an established plot...not that its a very strong one.

with a set of ideas, and a game to work around i will ramble and rant to a few choice people who i bounce well off, and also stare into space for hours on end building the ideas. This process can be days, it can be years. For context, i have some notes from 2019 about things i wanted to include that are still relevant. I have been scheming how to break and rebuild this OC for ages. Theres no correct time frame, so long as you simply do the work.

Once i have a fairly loose plan, i start to solidify the benning and the end. What is required to make a character compelling, what makes them believable, what makes them human in a way that we recognise. this isnt always a positive thing, people like to call characters who do bad things problematic, but its human nature to make mistakes and be damaged or difficult, the process of the story is not always rainbows and sunshine. For me, this hits even harder, as im trying to tell a story from the perspective of someone fundamentally broken, so showing those breaks and cracks has to be done wisely.

This is the point where i make notes about things that need to change from the start to the end. And ill say one thing, this story in particular, I have not solidly planned the middle. I am allowing space for me to come up with new ideas at points. Being locked into a dead set of ideas can be quite limiting, and as creators we consume and process things constantly to generate new stories. Id be a fool to make a plan and stick to it. everything i do is vague guidelines.

However, I know exactly how the story ends in Hisui, and where it goes to from there. And i think me personally knowing the end goal makes it easier to plot steps towards that, and some of those steps are anything but progressive.

If nothing else, the end was the only thing i saw clearly, and it has only become more complex and loaded and emotional as the rest of this has fallen into place. If you can see the goal, you can work out how to get there with time.

Regarding the chapters, i tend to draft plan up like 3-4 of them at a time, and then go in order to sketch out one after the other, so i have plenty of time to change things while i adjust. its constantly a process of seeing what you make, seeing issues, and scrapping whole parts just to redraw something better or new, unique even. I dont think a single page ive posted has resembled the very VERY first draft thumbnail ive made, and thats just how i do. Every panel, how big they are, the angle you hand the viewer, the way you light things, the expressions, this all dictates SO SO much.

Taking time over it is kind of the job, and let me stress, this is normally a job done by a team, especially the highly popular comics. one inks, one colours, one shades, one handles text, one edits, theres so many people behind it, so dont be bothered by the pace at which things are made if youre working alone like i am. One person means longer production times, if you can, spread the workload out, but its not required. Its why i always say it doesnt matter how long it takes to make, so long as youre still making.

I think its also worth noting, comics are consumed quickly, the bakcgournds and small details can be lost in the ace of the storytelling, pick and choosing your battles is wise, save your time on panels where you want the reader to shift along quicker, keep that pace high, and add in more detail and depth to panels you want to champion or get the viewers to hang around on more. its ok to let go of a "perfect" image in favour of getting content out, if youre being driven nuts by it. Again, time be damned, be happy with it. And if you can let go of petty details, id suggest doing it when possible, so long as it doesnt effect the storytelling.

I mean what else can i even say. This work is a passion project, I love it, more than i can even put into words, and i think you kind of have to, to make comics without monetary motivation. sure you can get lucky and find ways to make it big, but for most of us, its the love of the story. So maybe try not to be your biggest hater, its easy to slip into the behaviour, so try be gentle on yourself and the process. I should take that advice myself haha! but i really do mean it. This is HARD work, so be kind to yourself over it.

anyway, with a rough idea, a bunch of sketches, and time, they get inked and fussed over, i make a billion changes to layout and story, and eventually posting can happen but not after fighting with the monster that is creating. Idk what else i can say. This is not work for the feint of heart, but anyone can learn to do it.

Good luck, comic artists can always use it!

[natsmagi]

i know i draw naru with differing hair lengths and in skirts/dresses, but it's simply because i like it and think it's cute; i still draw her in pants but sometimes skirts and with short hair and long hair. i think she would experiment with styles for the fun of it. i don't read many of the stories so i might be misinformed, but i genuinely love naru and find comfort in her character and how she expresses herself. i don't see her just as a trans girl, as a trans person i know what it's like to be reduced to my gender identity/assigned gender. she's just a character i love to draw and dress up. sorry i might just be trying to justify myself as i have drawn her in pink, long hair, and dresses before qq

AWHH NO THATS TOTALLY FINE!! we were kind of speaking on the subject using blanket terms, but there are exceptions to everything. if you wish to explore your own femininity through arashi you are more than welcome to do so! please do not feel dismayed!

my main gripe was when people start acting like happyele is ignoring arashi and her gender identity because shes not portrayed super stereotypically feminine. what i love about enstars is the nuance that comes with every character and their relationship with gender. its fine to project and indulge, it just makes me upset as a nonbinary person when trans people and characters are constantly forced into boxes. i think it would be LOVELY for arashi to experiment more with her wardrobe, especially as she enjoys both masculine and feminine clothing. so its not like her wearing girly stuff would inherently be OOC or anything like that. its all about the context surrounding it! so please, make all the little outfits your heart desires!

please do not take my little ranting as me saying youre not allowed to draw arashi in skirts or dresses or with her hair grown out, you are more than welcome to explore all of these aspects! especially if you yourself are trans and it makes you euphoric! again, my issue lies not with people drawing her in cute clothes or with longer hair, but with people feeling like thats what she Needs to look like if that makes sense? and i get upset when other androgynous characters get to have their fun little feminine outfit only for people to complain that it shouldve been arashi wearing it instead, ignoring the significance of that outfit to the character wearing it.

either way, my post was made in a heat of the moment, and we have been discussing it in a rather generalized tone, but i hope this clears it up a little bit. if youre doing something for yourself there is nothing wrong with being as indulgent as you want! i literally draw femstars after all, so know it was never my intention to come across that way. i love using these characters as my little dress up dolls too! and know theres no need to apologize for having fun ❤ especially as my complaints were not directed at u.... and i again apologize if it came across that way. i never want to demotivate anyone from drawing what they love, so please do not stop just because i got a little mad over takes i saw....... sending u all the love 💕💕

[infernaltenor]

maybe im just a super salty person bc its 5am and im Still not sleepingn and Still thinking about it but i cant help but feel that qtubbo fans are some of the most hypocritial people ive ever seen. this is like. full of generalizations and just observations ive made as a crow and im. typically defensive and salty so im gonna try to be objective but at the very least im not trying to neg on the characters or the ccs, since im directing this towards the fans. its also like a solid two months of build up .so. oops?

but uh. how to start explaining this. well for one im taking this as a recent fan who is a phil watcher pretty much only. but i tend to chronically read posts about other characters since when im into things i like to be informed on all cases (idk constant instinct i have lol). like i said im gonna focus on qtubbo here, if i go into qphil stuff its purely as a comparison point. i cant speak much on interactions with other fanbases since i simply am Not informed enough but yknow.

for one, i think both tubbo and phil ahve similar things when remembering lore that is Not their own. not a neg on either one, since i dont expect them to remember it, but both have forgotten major stuff recently, ie. fred's kidnapping (phil) and the birdhouse (tubbo). both things happened before purgatoryand the subsequent forgetting happened after so even in character it makes sense (they had more to worry about), but i also think reactions in character tends to fuck with audience perception. ie, tubbos very visceral reaction to the ill timed fred joke phil had made (and it was ill timed, and thats all that i feel was criminal about it. tubbo and phils friendship is very much based on banter and friendly barbs, lots of teasing from either side. phil simply shot back on a smilar level as tubbo had originally, making his joke about "phil and who?". other people have spoken on that so im not gonna rehash about whos comment was worse, since imo they were both just shy of being insensitive, had tubbo not been dealing with freds presumed death at the time. im not gonna talk about the funeral, becasue if i do i'll get mad.). likewise, when tubbo forgot birdhouse phils reaction was much less outwards. he just said a birdhouse wouldnt be slaying- given the imprisionment he had, it makes sense that phil would associate it negatively, especially since it catalzyed all of his future derealization episodes. both of these are simply ooc things imo, from their original standpoint. i dont think either is in the wrong for forgetting. but what annoys me is the fandom perception.

this is a problem im going to link back heavily to purgatory. im not sure if it was present beforehand, as i only really got into qsmp the last two-three weeks in october (bad timing) and had only really been watching vods in order to catch up. that being said, i think the bolas and soulfire rivalry had widened the gap between the fans, which in turn affects negative perception. later weeks in november had full bad faith interpretations of phil because he was critical of tubbos choices or simply didnt understand sunnys character perfectly. and there were. a lot of those. purgatory had happened just a few weeks prior, so i liken it to that. maybe it is just my expierence, but the phrasing of a lot of character crit and analysis between the two has wildly different interpretations of a character (to wildly different results)

you can get qphil fans explaining against a bad faith interpretaiton, and people will (and have) called them excuses to defend against character analysis. i have noticed, however, when qtubbo fans do the same thing (and they have) it seems to be more of a matter of adding context to the conversation. thats.... exactly what qphil fans are doing however? when talking critically about qtubbo not communicating with other parents and friends both his and sunny insecurities, its all that hes younger and in a bad mental state. but you have something about phil not understanding sunnys character perfectly, and hes a cruel stepmother and such; and when an explanation is added to why hes not a bad father nor a good father, just an imperfect one trying his best, its simply a "mindless defense against a crit of his character". are these not the same things? providing context to a percieved bad faith interpretation? idk. i cant tell if its the age or the percieved roles theyre supposed to take, but why is tubbo allowed to be imperfect and doused in outward angst, especially when interacting with other characters (ramon had to take the initiative to communicate with tubbo. and yet. age age age.) phils just as complex and imperfect and unwell. all of qsmp is unwell. it is an explanation, not an excuse.

anyway. i think i was thinking about this because of the flightless bird/ostrich dna joke. ill timed, just like the fred one. but phils reaction speaks volumes doesnt it? if its an age one maybe he'll overdramaticize, but he laughs it off mostly. theres a lot he laughs off. he doesnt. "if your kid wasnt here id kill you". tubbo doesnt know about phils failed flight. he probably wont for a while (i cant help but think qphil is embarassed. he was knocked unconcious from hitting the water too hard. and he knows how to fly? fuck, man). i think its wild, however, that one fred joke gets the entire fanbase ready to deface and mischaracterize the whole character. but one wing joke gets maybe shocked laughter and about two posts complaining? idk. maybe im just complaining about nothing, im tired as fuck.

tldr is that tubbo fans are so wildly hypocritical that they cant see when theyre doing the same thing as everyone else. im sure im being hypocritical in this post, its human. but its annoying as fuck when its everywhere, and i think purgatory made it worse.

[sketch-guardian]

Hii! Can I request the RAD classmates with an MC who looks and acts like Azrael from the Obey-Me-Angel-Bros blog by simply-yulia

I’m the biggest fan of that blog and the artist so the crossover would make me so happy 🙏🙏

If you’re not comfortable with the request then I understand!

So, I had never heard of that blog, now I feel stupid for not having known about it before🙈I had to do some research to understand what you meant and in addition to admiring the ideas and drawings of the blog in question, I hope I understood their version of Azrael well enough, since I didn't find much about his character😖I hope it's not too OOC😭

Furthermore, I also hope that the request doesn't make Azrael's creator uncomfortable, since I don't know them, so to be safe, even if I'm not sure if they're still active, I'll tag them ( @obey-me-angel-bros by simply-yulia), to specify this Azrael is their version. Now let's start with the ask:

"RAD CLASSMATES WITH A MC THAT LOOKS AND ACTS LIKE AZRAEL FROM OBEY-ME-ANGEL-BROS BLOG"

DEMYA

To be clear, as long as MC gives Demya her freedom, isn't intimidated by her feral side, and lets her eat to her heart's content, then MC could be the scariest being in all of Devildom and Demya would still cling to them, nuzzling against their arm and tagging them along around for shopping. Demya, not really having an opinion about celestial beings, would find MC's appearance to be quite ethereal, however she would prefer to see MC without bangs if they're comfortable enough, because in Demya's opinion, mates should accept each other and show their true self, both good and bad, for example MC with their several eyes in full view with Demya with blood dripping from her mouth. Demya might initially tease MC in a witty way for their quiet and hardworking nature, it's also likely that every now and then she would try to drag MC into some reckless adventures to make them loosen up, much to their dismay. As for the paintings, Demya would be interested and would even model without any problem for MC, albeit sometimes in dirty poses, just to see their reaction. Demya would also get a lot of fresh red paint just for MC (don't ask where she got it, it's as bad as you think-)

DOMNRA/MOBIM

The angelic appearance might initially destabilize Domnra a little, because it would remind him of his days as a soldier in the celestial army, so it would take some time for him to get used to MC's presence (nothing personal, even with Simeon and Raphael was like that-). Domnra would understand the reason behind MC's act of covering their eyes, since he has a quiff, the only difference is that Domnra does it because he is blind from that covered eye, in fact in a rare joking or sarcastic moment, he would ask MC to lend him a working one. MC's calm nature would be a balm for Domnra's often mad soul, so listening to some music while they draw would be ideal, or even training (the idea of ​​being drawn in that context would embarrass Domnra). Mobim would at first be intimidated by MC's appearance, but sensing their good intentions, the little curse would come out of its shell and sit on their lap or shoulder while they paint, even dozing off sometimes

AZUL

Fortunately (or unfortunately, since it can result in a big headache-) Azul is quite a charismatic conversationalist, so despite MC's awkward attitude, he would do his best to engage them in conversation and get them to talk more freely about their interests, especially because they both have a passion for art. Azul wouldn't show it outwardly, even if his colors would betray his true thoughts, however having an MC that reminds him of his past as an angel would disturb him quite a bit, at least at first, given how badly he had coped with his fall from the Celestial Realm. When Azul was an angel, he didn't have ordinary wings, but rather butterfly wings that he was proud of and that he misses terribly sometimes, so if MC made a portrait of him at that time, it would be one of those few times in which Azul would cry quietly. During some of his mood swings, Azul might let out a few jokes, like comparing himself to a butterfly that fell into the spider's web stretched by MC, as a metaphor for their fall in love (corny, I know-). Azul would also return any paintings by making some himself, with MC represented with their eyes in plain sight, since Azul considers them part of MC, therefore beautiful. MC's gentle presence would help Azul stay calmer and avoid his mood swings

ZURI

Even Zuri, like her other two fallen angel friends, would be a little hesitant to interact with an MC who reminds her of her past as an angel, however she would be much more mature and professional about the situation and would quickly get used to the idea. Zuri would appreciate MC's calm nature and wouldn't be bothered by their awkwardness, since she would be perfectly able to speak on behalf of both of them (basically: they asked for no pickles-). Noting that to hide their different eyes MC seems to be uncomfortable sometimes, as if they would prefer to keep them uncovered, Zuri would propose to build some tailor-made masks to make their life easier and more comfortable in general, she would also recommend being careful not to get dirty with paint during their paintings, even if Zuri would take care of arranging and possibly modifying their clothes in the end

ODON

Odon would be intrigued by this version of MC, especially because they would notice similarities in their hair style, however the reason why MC does it seems to be to not make others uncomfortable or out of shyness, while Odon does it for the mental health of others' sake and to prevent them from dying in a atrocious existential suffering, the only way for Odon to be seen without bangs would be to shapeshift their face into something more bearable. Considering their past, Odon would be surprised that they caught MC's attention, pure as they are, but they wouldn't complain. Odon in demon form has several arms and several eye-like creatures fluttering around them, so some might jokingly compare Odon to a spider. Odon and MC could spend a lot of time in a cozy silence without getting bored, while MC draws and Odon sips a cup of tea reading a book, even out loud, if upon request. Besides, Odon is a bottomless well of knowledge, so if MC ever needs inspiration for new painting ideas, they can ask Odon

[deusvervewrites]

I've received a transmission from my Beta Reader, weighing in on the issue

I think, as I ponder a wide swath of fandoms I've been in, and that I've seen these discussions before, the other thing is skill level and age of authors. BNHA is aimed at teenagers. I don't have any kind of data on who is writing fics for it, but I know many of my first fics were full of the tropes of more popular fics (not all well written but being recommended to me). I was 13. I didn't know how to analyze media the way I do now. And some people in fandom don't want to learn to analyze media. Fandoms as a whole have glorified to some extent, the idea that the author delights in reader's torment. And yeah sure I love people screaming over a cliff hanger, I'm not beating the allegations either, but I primarily write fluff because so much is just angst that ventures into torture porn. Ursula K Le Guin was not wrong about how we have romanticized suffering. But what does that all mean in this context? New authors think the correct way to write is stuff that devestates the reader, and the easiest answer, the popular answer is right there. It's the same idea that every sentence has to be a banger. It's a rookie mistake but one some people have to make to learn. And not everyone wants to learn. Some get what they want out of it, no matter how ooc it is, and there's no sense or reason to debate with them. Simply move on. But I have seen, in multiple fandoms, some infamous trope or plotline that makes no sense if pushed past a surface level, but pervades fics. I think, some people also fear the work of analyzing, of asking "what does this change, where do the ripples actually go?" You know me, I wrote a crack fic that turned into a serious love letter to many things because I pushed at it. We like to analyze. Do you have the time to toss something in the microwave or make a full course meal? And are you afraid of failure? That's another thing I think scares people, even more than when I first got in, the idea that they'll be shredded if they go against the fandom perceptions.

[themattress]

I mentioned it in a recent post, but I'm usually OK with character deaths in fiction. And by that I mean I can feel a wide range of feelings: sadness if it's a character I loved, happiness if it's a character I hated, indifference if it's a character I didn't have a strong opinion on, frustration if I think it was poorly written/executed, and morbidly amused if it crosses the line twice into being funny in how weirdly done it was. But whatever the feeling, I still accept the death.

....BUT there are at least 10 occasions I can recall where my feelings went beyond usual frustration from a writing standpoint and were genuinely repulsed and upset about it, to the point where I'm not so forgiving and will harp on it whenever given the chance. They aren't just bad choices, IMO - they actively harm their stories. And those 10 occasions were....

Asuka Langley Soryu (End of Evangelion) - This is a movie where practically everyone dies, and I knew that going in, so you'd figure I wouldn't get upset. But something about Asuka's death just rubs me the wrong way. It feels especially mean-spirited in a way none of the others do. This girl has already been through the ringer, then finally finds her resolve again and has a badass fight sequence, only to then get beaten down, mutilated, and driven mad by excruciating pain before expiring. And then Shinji strangles her in a hallucination on top of that. And again at the end where she's sort of resurrected maybe? I don't know, it just feels so excessively cruel, to the point where it even put Yuko Miyamura herself off of Asuka and Evangelion for years. It's just one of many reasons I prefer the manga, which lacks it.

Euphemia Li Britannia (Code Geass) - Another mean-spirited death, as Euphie gets forcibly mind controlled into committing a massacre of the very Japanese people she was trying to help, then put down and publicly demonized by her killer...who is also the one who mind controlled her. But what is worse than that is the context of that mind control came completely out of nowhere, amounting to an OOC joke; the circumstances had other alternative means of resolving it without killing her; and it makes no sense that she, a Britannian princess, can die from a single bullet when a rando like Mao who was riddled with them can be saved through "modern Britannian medical science". Nothing about this death adds up logically. The manga does it a lot better due to several alterations, but I still prefer that it not happen.

Graham Humbert (Once Upon a Time) - Strangely, it wasn't the death itself that pissed me off this time. I was fine with the death, it was perfectly fitting for the story and characters. The problem comes with the fall-out of the death....or rather, the lack thereof. Emma takes his place as Sheriff of Storybrooke...and that's it. Graham never receives justice. It is never discovered that Regina killed him, she never admits to it, and he is barely ever mentioned again across the rest of the series. He doesn't even show up in the Underworld even though he should have unfinished business! In the last episode, his murderer is crowned Queen of the Multiverse and a montage of past scenes plays...with Graham's death being one of them, as if the show is rubbing it in that his death received no closure. It is simply infuriating.

Kaede Akamatsu (Danganronpa V3) - This is the death mentioned in the recent post which sparked this one. We get a refreshing, interesting, likable female protagonist for a mainline Danganronpa game...and then she ends up being the culprit from Chapter 1, passes the torch to Shuichi who is the same breed of male protagonist we've had twice already, and is fridged to give him man-pain via an intensely graphic and painful execution. This "twist" was completely misaimed and caused the story and my personal investment in it to crumble.

Kairi (Kingdom Hearts III) - I'll just let this video do the talking. Re:Mind and the manga both did things to make it better, but like with Euphie, such fixes shouldn't have been needed at all.

Nia Teppelin (Gurren Lagann) - She is taken out of the show for an extended period of time due to being possessed, has the possession shown as unpleasant Mind Rape, and then after being rescued gets to marry Simon just in time to fade away during the wedding in an out-of-nowhere gut-punch. Thanks, I hate it. I'll stick with SRW’s version of the ending instead.

The Magical Beings (Star vs. The Forces of Evil) - Star Butterfly's character arc is destroyed at the last minute as she prevents a genocide by causing a bigger genocide, which includes killing all of her sentient spells. The Magic High Commission's deaths being played off as a joke and what they deserved - save for Hekapoo just because she's popular despite having done just as much bad - is especially insulting since it ignores all the nuance and likable traits they used to have and the fact they were only going along with what Moon was doing yet Moon gets to be a Karma Houdini. A bad choice from a notoriously bad finale.

The People of Earth (Dragon Ball Z) - OK, all the nameless extras being killed by Super Buu was fine. Chi Chi being killed by Super Buu was pointless but I can let it slide. Damn near everyone else on the Lookout except for Dende was pointless and an unnecessary downer. Goten, Trunks, Piccolo and Gohan dying while unconscious as the planet is destroyed!? NOPE. That was a bridge too far. Toriyama clearly wasn't even trying anymore.

Rodrigue and Fleche (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) - BYLETH. YOU HAVE TIME REWIND POWERS. USE THEM!!! NOBODY HAS TO DIE HERE! WTF ARE YOU DOING!?

Tara Markov (Teen Titans) - Like with Graham, it wasn't the death itself so much as the inadequate fall-out. But possibly even worse than that was the stunningly ableist, victim blaming narration placed over the death as it transpired, and the whole misogynistic vibe around the character’s usage, especially compared to Deathstroke, the adult man who masterminded the scheme Terra took part in and who committed statutory rape on her. It doesn’t even make internal sense: one moment we have Raven moralizing that Terra was born evil and cannot truly feel love or hate, but then the next the narration is moralizing that she made herself evil by choice and taught herself “how to hate”. Marv Wolfman has talent as a writer, but he’s a really gross person, and I can never forgive the way he treated Terra.

[darkpoisonouslove]

1, 2, 5, 7, 12, 19, 26, 33, 39 for yet another writing ask game (I tried to pace myself, believe it or not 🤪)

(Mhm, I can see that! XD)

yet another writing ask

1. Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

Why would you do this to me? Don't I already have enough WiPs on my plate? You know this is only ever going to end one way.

I'd say Prey on the Heart. I do like the descriptions of the setting and the worldbuilding but *pinches bridge of nose* Valtor is SO OOC, I'm in literal pain. I don't know what was going on through my head but oh, boy! Then again, it's been almost three years since then and my understanding of the characters has definitely improved plus my headcanon game has evolved too!... Now I feel the need to add that to the pile of WiPs. I. Am. Mad. at. You! 😤

I'm also definitely touching up the three chapters of Gifts Are Given To Be Taken if I ever get to writing the rest. And same for Have No Name for My Heart. That one is such a downer. 😅 I need to rework the tone completely.

2. Anything that you'd like to write but feel like you're unable to?

In general? Murder mysteries. I LOVE murder mysteries (though I'm somehow way better at identifying the red herring (as such) than the actual culprit)! But they require way too much research and that's literally the bane of my existence. So, uh, yeah... that Scream AU for Winx is probably not going to happen.

In particular I feel that I'm unable to write the Winx rewrite. Like, I want to! I have so many cool ideas that I'm excited about! But I lack the motivation and the sheer size of it scares me. Besides, there are so many rewrites out there that it feels like a waste of time to do that when I can be working on Griffin x Valtor (or a Griffin x Faragonda or Marion... or anyone really) fics, which are... mostly my niche (not to monopolize the ship but *looks at the Griffin x Valtor tag on AO3*).

5. What's a tag you never want to use for your works even when it applies?

I can't think of one? If I don't want something associated with my account, I just don't post it. But I guess, generally speaking, I wouldn't want to tag something if it's spoilers. AO3 luckily has the "creator chose not to use archive warnings" and you can write an additional tag to the same effect if it's a trope you don't want to tag rather than an archive warning.

7. Your favorite ao3 tag.

I was gonna say I didn't have one but I'm afraid that if my answer here isn't angst, you will hunt me for sport. XD You know I love my pain and tragedy.

12. If you write in more than one language, what's the difference?

I write in Bulgarian very rarely anymore. I think the last time was in the beginning of last year and I have only written down a few ideas since then. But the key difference I feel is that I have a much easier time describing things in Bulgarian because the language itself is more descriptive. It's possible that I simply understand it a lot better than English since it's my mother tongue but I have also analyzed some Bulgarian texts and their English translations and while translations can rarely capture the full spirit of the original, I still feel that the Bulgarian language just offers more when it comes to how descriptive words are. Idk if that makes sense.

Another one is that I have a much easier time with varying sentence structure in English. Though, that might be because I've paid special attention to that while I haven't practiced it in Bulgarian... at all.

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

I want you to know that I have to try so hard to restrain myself from saying at least five different things about this:

She slid a hand between her breasts to touch only flesh instead of her monad necklace that was usually nestled there. Its shine was replaced by the gold she’d threaded into the plunging neckline of her nightgown with her own powers, all on Valtor’s insistence it would bring out her eyes. Despite the darkness trying to creep over her form, a smile was curling her lips at how right he’d been.

A draft disturbed the room, the air moving as if with something shuddering.

Griffin whispered his name. Only once. Like it was some cursed, forbidden knowledge. The power it held was immeasurable – greater than any spell.

Her fingers dipped under her neckline to trace a path for him directly to her heart.

As if offended by its thundering, a lightning tore through the blanket of clouds enveloping the castle.

The flash of light revealed in the mirror a pair of glacial blue eyes, pale skin and maroon fabric that would blend together with her nightgown perfectly if not for the gold threads distinguishing where her form ended and his began.

The darkness surged over the room once again a moment later, greedy, great enough to swallow even him, making it look like she was a lonely island surrounded only by empty air and the hazy glow of her magic. Yet, even that omnipotent cover failed to hide him from her.

He was silent, motionless, not even a gasp of breath coming from him to make the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The magic that had clung to her day and night had evaporated, leaving only a hollowness behind, a cold that made her shiver as if she’d been thrown out in the storm.

It didn’t matter.

She was dressed for him, in her favorite nightgown she hadn’t worn for anyone else – a tribute to him. She’d only needed to call his name once and he’d come running. He wasn’t leaving here until she was ready to let him go, until all the cards were on the table, everything revealed. No more distant voyeurism and half-lies, only naked truth.

26. What would you describe as OOC?

A behavior or action that isn't properly supported by the previously established characterization. For fics specifically, a character isn't OOC if the story took the time to take them from their canon self to the person that they are in the fic but there has to be a hint at least of why they are the way they are.

33. Give your writing a compliment.

You know, I'm starting to like my descriptions more and more! I'm learning to focus more on the vibes and that makes it easier to pinpoint which parts I need to describe. I was panicking about this one description I needed to do recently and then I ended up getting it almost perfect right away!

39. Wildest AU scenario you have written?

I answered this here.

[bycode]

NAME : dee

PRONOUNS : she / her

MOST ACTIVE MUSES : my most active muses can be found at @venustrape. i'm juggling 4 blogs because i like to complicate my life<3 but my mumu is my main blog.

EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS : i've only written on dumblr and allison is actually my oldest muse 🧡 i was around 12-13 when i started writing so i spent half my life on this website. 😂 i had many many blogs and it unsettles me that some are still active to this day with no way for me to delete them because who knows what emails i used //: anyway, i've been writing allison on & off since then but i only recently placed her in the s.pn world<3

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT : it's all very mood / inspiration dependent but i promise i enjoy writing all of these equally. my comfort in writing smut only depends on some ooc communication beforehand and upon us having an established ship already.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES : i kind of exist in the middle of long & short replies ?? but while you won't usually catch me writing novellas, i'm perfectly fine with one-liners every now & again. dialogue is kind of my favorite part about writing a character, so that might have something to do with it, but usually you'll find me toeing the in-between when it comes to reply length. one-liners are fun, but thread longevity needs some substance.

PET PEEVES : i'm only basing these on personal experience, but best believe there's a lot of dubious behavior in the rp community that i don't love. god-modding ; needless to say, in a thread we should only go off what we give each other. if i send a meme & there's not a lot to go on, i'm okay with you establishing context & making sure my muse superficially fits it. this is not where my issue is. my issue is when my writing partner assumes details about my muse's background / likes / dislikes / overall important character information when nothing on my blog, in our conversations or even in canon confirms it. if you need to know where she stands with something, simply ask. force-shipping ; don't spring a ship on me unless we're mutuals and have had some ooc / ic interaction. i love shipping & i love testing chemistry but deciding our characters are in love after 0.2 seconds of following me isn't cute. continuing to push after i've expressed that i don't see our characters interacting that way is also not cute. nagging for replies ; i'm an adult with a job & a life who does this for fun. i don't think this needs further explaining. again, there's much more gross behavior in the rp community, but being selective & protecting your space is the gift that keeps on giving, so i'll end this here.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE : pls i could never dream to be this badass OR this physically active. but i feel like i share her sense of justice, her kindness & her wit<3 plus, yk, i also have a dead aunt & a complicated relationship with my mother that fills me with guilt ( that got dark i'm sorry- ) anyway, alli is definitely confrontational & brave in a way i struggle to be when needed. on the long list of muses i write who are the same & who teach me to stand up for myself, she is by far the OG<3

TIME TO WRITE : honestly, whenever i have the time & energy. i used to be most active late at night, mostly because i live in no one's-gonna-fly-that-far eastern europe & this place is most fun when i normally go to sleep, but now if i do any writing past 10:00 pm it's a freaking miracle

tagged by : @kindofuneven mwah tagging : @mskwtz @serendpitous @webheadedhero @ourcharade @wantdead @milleroptimism @lilyspaintedred + you !!

[the-glorious-evolution-fanart]

hi, do you mind people using the surname you've given viktor for fanfiction purposes or roleplay???

Hi! The particular surname I use, I made it up (it doesn't exist irl) so I'd be ok ONLY with fics which I read and approved.

I don't want to dictate how any or all Viktor fan content is made, only my own; there might be confusion about how pedantic and agonized I am about interpretation (analysis) of 2011. lore and what canon characteristics Viktor has according to it - that is a separate thing from personal depictions, alterations and so on! Of course everyone is free and deserving of their own version (!!!!) On the other hand, if some stories or roleplay use the surname I designed within vastly different contexts or with actions I'd consider OOC for my depiction of Viktor, then those things would get attached to my portrayal without me wanting that and then I'd be like, Panik!!!

I hope this explanation makes sense. Realistically, I would only allow "Naletevski" in collaborative stories, to put it simply. I am always open for collaborations, even if I'm working slowly. This is also due to the fact that I can use it in my original works, as it doesn't exist anywhere else!

[aquaburst3]

I saw another post in the TWST tag where someone sent an ask to OP about incorporating honorifics into their fics to "be more accurate". The OP was happy about it thanks to making posts wishing the game and novel translation would use those. I seen others say similar things in this fandom. I completely and politely disagree with that. To be frank, I think adding those in to any English version would be terrible writing and would do the opposite of what these people want.

The game heavily implies that the story takes place in their version of the west and are actually speaking that world's version of English, so they wouldn't be using honorifics in universe in the first place thanks to that language lacking those. That's why I think things like the White Day Cards, all of the maps and Azul's contracts are in perfect English instead of Japanese—they are actually speaking that world's version of English and the game is just translated into Japanese so it's comprehensible to the audience. Even the Light Novel mentions a similar translation spell happening on Yuu.

The Japanese version using honorifics makes sense. English works translated into Japanese add honorifics, too, and the same would apply here. The same can be said for scrapping them in the English versions, because they would be unnecessary thanks to how that works as a language.

Bringing them in would also cause more issues. For one, randomly tossing them in now would come across as super jarring. If everyone started spouting out honorifics in ANY English version of the story, it would automatically turn the whole cast into giant weeaboos (a westerner who idolizes Japan to a weird, unhealthy and fetishistic degree, especially if the person is white), which, in turn, would make the whole cast super OOC outside of just Idia, especially for ones like Vil and Malleus.

As for the "it doesn't state the character's relationships well enough without honorifics" statement these people spout out, we don't define relationships in English directly with language outside of addressing people we don't know or those in positions of power, but with context clues—attitudes and actions. That still shines through the English versions, simply because of how the characters behave and treat each other.

If you are wondering why I forgo this in my own writing outside of Deuce spouting them out when he's tired and not thinking straight, there's your answer. Normally, I would use honorifics or at least call characters by their surnames when I write fics based on manga/animes to be more accurate to the setting. In this case, the opposite is true, since the story is set in a western analog instead of a Japanese one. If some people have a problem with that, too fucking bad. I don't care. I think handling like this makes the most sense.

[skaruresonic]

You know what this Lanolin and Silver situation reminds me of? How not so long ago the comic had Whisper do basically the same level of smacking and smack-talking to Jet. Yes, the context there was more "comedic" I guess because they also have him be an excessively annoying fanboy for her, even after she smacks him. But I do remember that the "fans" were for the most part making memes like "lesbian on gay twink violence lmao" about this. Same thing but it's now happening to a more "well-received" character (though looking through both tumblr and twitter, you'd think babylon rogues have about as many fans as any other character).

But I do remember that the "fans" were for the most part making memes like "lesbian on gay twink violence lmao" about this. ah yes, such fantastic representation IDW has: - one lesbian who exists just to suffer forever from her woobie backstory, one she will never be allowed to move on from, - another who has the IQ and emotional intelligence of a potato, who makes her friend/gf feel like she was in the wrong for being triggered by her insensitive remark, - yet another who is bossy at best and a bully at worst, - a possible trans character whose pain and trauma get dismissed by Sonic in the name of his principles, and who never receives proper closure with her creator, - a gay man who suffered a brutal mental breakdown before getting his head caved in by a steel girder and eulogized as "big oof" by Mr. Principles not an issue after the latter said he'd have been willing to give "even" him a chance, - an edgy traitorous murderer, - and two background OCs whose names nobody can remember.

---

Yes, the context there was more "comedic" I guess because they also have him be an excessively annoying fanboy for her, even after she smacks him. ...I haven't read that part. Why are my OOC senses tingling. somehow I can't picture Whisper doing that. peak writing

And this, kids, is why framing is important. There's a difference between "hurting" a character for Rule of Funny (the critical difference being that they're not actually substantially harmed) or for cartoonish effect... and playing it so painfully straight that it reads like disciplinary abuse.

The art doesn't seem to make it terribly clear, so in hindsight I realize I may have probably misread this panel. But to me, this initially read as Lanolin smacking Whisper repeatedly about the head. Maybe that's not the case, but even so, wouldn't you get that vibe with how stuttered Whisper's speech is? It's as if she's trying to speak between blows but Lanolin won't let her. Look at the crowd. They're either gawking or uncomfortable. One background character is covering her eyes. The Wisps look like they don't want to be there. The overall feeling this one panel emits is just all sorts of "ugh" BECAUSE it's played so painfully straight, without a hint of irony. Even more uncomfortable is the fact that Lanolin could have simply shrugged Whisper off when she grabbed her arm, or at least told her to knock it off like she told Silver, but no, she had to make a scene out of the situation for Drama. Or something.

Please excuse me using my own work to provide a counterexample, but just to demonstrate what I'm talking about:

Sonic gets hurt throughout the VN as part of a running gag. It's played for laughs, emphasized by the cartoonish amounts of squash and stretch. With the possible exception of Eggman, no one hurts Sonic with any real malice, and unlike Whisper's case at Lanolin's hands, it isn't treated like a public flogging intended to put him in his place.

[runes-menagerie]

Astarion Headcanon

Do Vampires and their Spawn have souls?

This headcanon and analysis contains spoilers for the Pale Elf questline of Baldur's Gate 3 and will contain my personal answer to the question above.

As always with my analysis post, I welcome any comments and discussion anyone has on the topic.

The short answer for those who don't wish spoilers is that yes, I do believe they have souls. At least within the context of the game.

This question recently came up in an ooc discussion with one of my rp partners. At first I looked for an official answer within D&D 5e, the tabletop role playing game that Baldur's Gate 3 is based on, for an answer. Only to be unable to find a definitive answer in any of the official sources I found. The less official sources stated that it is generally up to the individual running the tabletop session.

Since I found little guidance there, I turned to the official Larian site and found a heated discussion on the topic of if Astarion specifically. I read pages of this discussion but saw no definitive conclusion with both side providing compelling evidence.

At this point I feel that I have done my due diligence of research on the topic and come to the conclusion that there is no definitive canon answer to this question. If someone does know of anywhere official that states an answer one way or the other, I would love a link to that source.

Now that I've explained my research findings here is what I have decided will be my official headcanon on the matter and the evidence from the game that I feel supports it.

I believe that Vampires and Vampire Spawn do have souls.

The key reason I believe this is the fact that the Rite of Profane Ascension exists and the wording of the Rite itself. The Rite is essentially a deal with the demon Mephistopheles and involves the sacrifice of 7000 Souls in order to gain the power of the Ascendant. Not lives, Souls.

In game, Cazador uses his seven main Spawn which includes Astarion to gather victims for the Rite. Victims which Cazador turns into Spawn as well.

If the Rite truly does call for Souls, rather than just lives then Spawn must possess Souls or else Cazador's entire plan wouldn't work. And we do know it works since Astarion is able to complete the Rite and Ascend.

Given that the Rite was created by or at least is connected to a powerful demon I find it much more likely that souls are involved rather than simply mass death. Now if we were talking about one of the Dead Three; Bane, Myrkul, or Bhaal. Then my assumption would be the opposite. But as it stands there is no reason given in game to think that Mephistopheles is more interested in death than the souls of those sacrificed for the Rite.

In conclusion. I believe that Astarion has a souls because otherwise the Rite of Profane Ascension wouldn't work and it clearly does since he is able to Ascend. So within the context of Baldur's Gate 3 I believe it makes the most sense for Vampires and their Spawn to have souls.

If I have missed or misunderstood something then feel free to let me know. I'd love to have a conversation about this and any of my other headcanon/analysis posts.