#it is so easy to see all gurs as just like the ones who hurt him and/or take it out on all of them

[esterigermaine]

Astarion needs so much therapy.

[umbralsong]

Racism in Astarion's Writing

There is a fascist takeover happening in Europe. Again. With pogroms targeting racialized and marginalized groups. Being at all silent about how media affects our perception of reality would be irresponsible of me. I stand in solidarity with you all. I will polish this as I go along, but this is for anyone who wants to understand.

Block, report, and move on from the inevitable racist shitheads. We have work to do.

Donate to Gaza here: https://gazafunds.org/ Support good causes with a click here: https://arab.org/ Ceasefire Now: https://ceasefire-now.com/ Donate to the [Sidewalk School] [Pay your rent], settlers. [KOSA Resources]

There is a... let's be charitable for a moment and call it "knee-jerk" reaction to discussions of racism in fandom. To call it character assassination, exaggeration, slander - anything but to acknowledge the dehumanizing system of power that underlies every part of this imbalance. It's only scary if you don't understand it, and as part of another group under siege for half a millenia, I am intimately familiar with it.

There are Romani perspectives on Astarion's storyline I would encourage everyone to read before mine. I don't wish to link them in case this post gets targeted. Please lend them your kind support and sincere gratitude for their contributions.

I do not "forgive" a character for questionable biases. I wonder why the writers put it there. I question its purpose in the narrative and the effect it has on the story and audience.

Let's discuss the effect:

The racism in Astarion's storyline serves no purpose, but the effects are harmful.

I've played evil (poorly). But I also have a very fucked up sense of humor and understand the appeal of a well-written fucked up little dude. Take, for instance, this Warlock from a BG3 playthrough:

Absolutely vile, but a clearly theatrical/satirical look at a classist piece of shit, you know, that sort of character. Take it as a palate cleanser after reading, and then gather your strength.

This is not a post about liking flawed characters. Please take your strawman, dust behind you, and move along.

I often find the trouble with depicting racism is the inherent unfamiliarity with the subject in a majority-white writer's room and company. There is an idea of what it entails, but not its purpose, and not its day-to-day application.

There is a veritable treasure trove of knowledge out there that I've ended up having to take in small parts. It is not easy hearing about the ways people have hurt others, systemic and otherwise. I genuinely want us to learn from this and be better for one another.

So when I see depictions of people who are Indigenous and Romani and Sinti, I wonder... why? And why were these writers chosen for this character/storyline?

In Astarion's storyline, from what I can tell, he makes light of stealing the Gur children. I can tell this is meant to be a depiction of guilt and deflection. What sucks is the fact that he's ultimately a white man making light of the fact that's... historically what they do.

The point, I believe, of him "following Cazador's orders" is to invoke the Nuremberg Defense. The tragedy is that Astarion, by D&D logic, literally couldn't do anything but follow his command. It's implied because he's defensive as hell, but he feels exceedingly guilty regardless. For all we know, it's earned.

Is Racist Magistrate Astarion still canon? If so, his "grudge" against the Gur is motivated by racism. Is that something we are prepared to confront with more than a line? Was he just a (maybe recently?) privileged asshole exercising his newfound power? In that case, his use of systemic power over the Gur may be read as a parallel to his storyline. But then the Gur need autonomy as well.

There is something to be deconstructed here, but I would not know its intimacies from my perspective. Others would. They may restructure it altogether so that it makes sense for their experience.

Here is what I know, and it should not be on this group alone to point it out: The inappropriate misuse of these tropes has encouraged racism in the fandom at large.

Performing a script well is not the fault of the voice actor, nor is the twisted logic of fans the fault of the writers. I am pointing out that reckless inclusion of certain ideas can have very unfortunate implications:

So stealing their children, expressing little remorse, and then "sparing" them the pain of executing stolen marginalized children is a good ending? I'm adding some untagged comments here for emphasis:

I find it interesting the game recognizes the complexity of the situation regarding the spawn and doesn’t punish the players or Astarion whatever the choice as long as they aren’t doing it for selfish reasons. Some good, thoughtful writing there.

Wow, even as a dedicated Astarion romancer, I was beginning to feel like it was a little unfair how much more recognition Neil is getting over the rest of the cast, but now I’m reminded of why. I’ve finished the game 3 times and never even considered not sparing the spawn, because if he deserves a chance, why don’t they? But the conviction he has behind his words in this makes me think I’ve been making the wrong choice.

Person 1: I really dislike Ulma. She’s such a judgmental Monday morning quarterback. Person 2: same, no matter what you do she'll blame Astarion for things that were outside his control

Spawn Astarion sparing their children as spawn is better and in line with his story, but for some reason, that isn't acknowledged through commentary, dialogue, or mechanics... thus, again, unfortunate implications:

To the spawn Astarion, Greetings from the family of Ulma, hunters of monsters and keepers of peace across Faerun. We know this letter finds you well, for although we hunt you no longer, we do sometimes keep a watch. Your restraint and control over your bloodlust has been admirable. Indeed, it has been an inspiration for our children, who have struggled with their own hunger. These last months have been a difficult time for our people. We have protected and nurtured our children as best we can, and we have learned much. Herbs we once used to dull our foes' minds are now sedatives to ease hunger and pain, restraints built to hold the undead now protect them from themselves. There has been a lot of pain, but a lot of progress too. Our children learned discipline and control, while we learned compassion and patience. There was a time when we would have destroyed any undead creature, our own blood or not, and called it a mercy. But then we met you. Wer saw that redemption was possible. Difficult, yes. Painful. But possible. You saved our children first from Cazador, and then from us. For that, we thank you. We will watch you still, but with more admiration than fear. Walk in peace, Astarion.

And, according to these commenters, it's better to kill them because the marginalized Elder is never satisfied with the man who stole their children?

It sounds so casual, I think. Perhaps they don't know what stealing children from a community really means.

60s scoop/residential school/reeducation camps trigger warning:

(The Scream by Kent Monkman. Alt text in link.)

Look at this painting.

Take it in with me for a moment. It is a scene taken from many memories and one. Look at how these families fought to stay together. Look at how they fight priests, nuns, and state officials - ones who my friend assured me are very friendly - how they grasp at their children with such painful desperation on their faces. It is a way for one to bear witness to unfathomable love and heartbreak.

When genocide deniers play their games, this is what they want you to pretend never happened. Don't mind the tens of thousands of child graves, or the stolen land. Just pretend these people are criminals out to swindle you, or steal your wives.

Growing up, listening to survivor testimonies, and the sweet reverberance of the remnants of survivors of slavery, you appreciate what you have. You remember every kindness. You love what you lost, and what you gained through gritted teeth.

And, you remember the unfathomable pain. It's why you promise to stop it from ever happening again, to anyone.

It is very sad. A heart is a heavy burden. Embrace it. To love is to live again, and to live again means you understand Never Again. Because people deserve to be happy. And that's worth a fight. That's why it's worth depicting with care and love, even when the subject matter threatens to choke you.

Let's get into Cazador Szarr.

I've played the game and understand that he has a backstory and some depth. What disturbs me is that an Asian man has the bloodiest, most brutal scene in the game with a white man killing him.

I can't let this be undiscussed as sinophobia rises in a pandemic. I am no authority, but I'm not ignorant. These posts are found in discussions of racism in BG3 and I would, again, prefer not to put a target on their back. Instead, show them support.

In terms of diverse storytelling, casting, and roles, I would only ask that a historical and sensitive look be applied. Hire people from these communities to act, direct, and write for that role. Writing is never easy. There is a weight and responsibility to it, but it's worth it to touch as many souls as possible.

I respect this history. That is why it is not something I believe should be thrown in as flavor text. It's why history needs to be respected as a great backstory to everything we create. We need each other, and we need art we create together.

The debt is yet to be paid.

[fourteenfifteen]

ok kalvin brnine analysis hours under the cut cw for talk abt suicidal ideation and also for pld31 spoilers

adding some more words so this won’t appear in my popular posts yadda yadda yadda blah blah blah ok so.

there has been fandom discussion of brnine’s relationship w martyrdom ie the way it seems to have impacted them to have known several people who were true believers and who died in pursuit of that vision of a better world. like it was already easy to interpret their recklessness with their own safety as like seeing that as their own endgame and that’s especially true in light of their new hook (something along the lines of “i’m living on borrowed time and need to ensure that they can continue their mission” oof ouch my bones)

BUT i’ve also been thinking about their kind of preexisting ambient self loathing and their history and the interview segment in pld28. i feel like even going back to pzn brnine is like a person who can’t take ownership of things ykwim like there is a shirking of responsibility of the things they’ve done that have caused people to suffer. and really it seems like all of the feedback that they get from people is either saying that they’re horrible and a fuckup and have hurt people needlessly or that they’re yk brilliant and valuable and are aiding the cause. sometimes at the same time from the same people !

there seems to be a tension for them there: their faith in the ability of millennium break to change lives, their dedication to the cause and their crew, but also that they can’t own that fully because they still have the things they did when they only cared about themself hanging over them. and then on the flipside they’ve done horrible things but can’t stand to own up to that fully; they want to be good, they want to help people, that isn’t them anymore

so my real read on kalvin brnine suicidal ideation by martyr fantasy is like. an inability to imagine themself outside of the war bc a dedication to the cause is how they deal with the guilt and self loathing. they want to stop people from getting hurt but that is like the end of the line in terms of their own redemption. so yk the best they could do is do everything they can and then die for it like valence and gur and si and phrygian all did a brnine who survives it is a brnine who has to live with the weight of it all and try to figure out a cohesive self concept that can include both saving several dozen planets and gassing civilians

this is also an interesting train of thought in relation to their response to dahlia’s anime sicko forever war scheme: brnine wants the war to end and thinks it’s immoral to support its continuation (and they’re not yk always one to be calling out the morality of actions so that’s real shit) but there is not an after the war for them. i mean there wasn’t one for valence and there wasn’t one for phrygian but there is like. an imagined future still out there for someone. just they have seemingly put themself in the category of people who aren’t going to get there.

millennium break can change lives but can millennium break make up for the wrongs you did when all you cared about was making it to tomorrow? millennium break can change lives but will you deserve the new life that it builds for you? millennium break can change lives but does that mean the losses in its name have been worth it? and what do you do if they weren’t? millennium break can change lives but who are you when its gone?

[loviatars]

The Highwayman

pairing: astarion x female npc (reader, not the mc!) warnings: vague references to abuse and torture that will become less vague in future parts rating: teen for the above reasons, for now <3 word count: 1,388 notes: so i think this’ll be my first astarion mini-series, as this’ll definitely have another part (and hopefully soon)! i just wanted to toy around with what might happen to astarion should the mc sell him out to the monster hunter... part two. ao3.

You are scared to touch him. You think he will cry out in pain.

He might be warm, you continue to think. Like skin. Or cold from the night seeping between the bars of the cage. His doublet looks frayed and unloved. The man is hungry behind the eyes, but also afraid. But also angry.

“You,” he spits, “who are you? Where am I?”

With troubling speed, the man hurls himself against the side of the cage. The metal rattles and shakes under his pale hands but they do not budge. You watch, wide-eyed and horrified as he grits his teeth against an unseen pain.

You’re stunned to silence, slack-jawed with fear. With a grunt and a mournful sound, the man behind bars slumps down away from them. His palms are singed red, you notice. Whatever the cage is made of is poisoning him.

“Outside the Dying Gull,” you whisper. The man driving the covered wagon didn’t look too friendly, you’d rather he not know you’re speaking to his travelling companion. Or captive. “It’s an inn on the highway, about a week’s hard ride from Baldur’s Gate.”

The man sounds flat, pressing his injured palm to his forehead and being careful not to touch the bars with the back of his neck.

“Well,” he sighs, “I’ve heard far worse news in the past three days. That just leaves who you are.”

“Just the barmaid,” you admit. After a pause, you continue, “If you don’t mind, can I ask a question now?”

“Were I in your position, I may have a few,” the man says. He’s still slumped over, you’re beginning to worry. His hand now covers his eyes, like they hurt. However, his tone is oddly sarcastic for his apparent exhaustion. “By all means, ask.”

“What’s happened to you? Why’s that man got another man locked up in the back of his wagon?” once you’ve opened your mouth you can’t quite stop. The man huffs, either in amusement or annoyance.

“That is two questions, in fact. So now you’ll have to pick just the one,” he says.

“I answered two,” you reply. But you’re inclined to take pity. “Fine, the second one.”

“I am in the company of a very incompetant bounty hunter,” the pale man begins, “who has wrongfully determined my identity to be that of a criminal.”

“Oh,” you tilt your head to the side. Looking into the cage, you see two red eyes swimming in the centre of his pale face when his hand moves. “A criminal might just say that. Are you lyin’ to me?”

“Of course a real criminal would lie, but I am not one in the least,” he insists. He seems to gain a little energy defending his morality, either that or he’s a capable performer. The man sits up until he’s moved away from the bars at his back. “Whatever that Gur says, I am not who he thinks I am.”

You say nothing for a moment, peering through the dark at those deep-red eyes. You decide that he’s lying. But to his credit, he’s a man in a cage. And you find something other than pity welling up in your chest once more.

His anger seems mostly gone now that he knows it was misdirected. The creature looks tired and gaunt, hungry and in pain. Your heart lurches.

“One more question?” you ask. He heaves a sigh.

“Very well, what was it?” he starts, “Right, what in the world has happened to me, well--”

“No,” you stop him. “Not that one, I don’t really want to force you to make up more lies. I just want to know your name. Can you tell me that?”

He seems stricken for a second. And only then does it occur to you that he’s begun to peer back. It’s what sways you to find him innocent, you decide. He looks at you, stares at you and tries to decide if you’ll be the third person to hurt him in as many days.

“Astarion,” he says. “My name is Astarion.”

“Good to meet you, Astarion,” you say. He seems troubled by your good-natured smile, not the least bit comforted by it. But it’s better than a grimace or a look of fear, he seems to reconcile.

Especially when you put your hands on the cage. Then, it appears as if hope’s caught in his eye. The bars don’t burn you, you notice. And you frown. But only for a moment, only as you’re thinking. 

“This won’t be easy to open,” you say. You bring your knuckles down on the metal, eliciting a hollow sound. “Were the whole thing pure silver, it’d buckle under its own weight. But it’s platin’ somethin’ sturdier--”

“And how do you know that?” Astarion asks. You look down at him, your eyes are no longer sizing him up. 

They’ve decided he is neither predator nor prey, as he has with you.

“Da was a goldsmith, he worked with all sorts of precious metals,” you explain. “Means I can identify ‘em, but I’ve not the strength to rip the door straight from its hinges.”

“And I’ve been starved for days,” he confesses, “so I’m far too weak to be of any help.”

The look of empathy on your face is unprecedented. It seems to make Astarion uncomfortable, so you stop it. You turn instead to the door that’s locked tight. A cruel, rusted padlock bolts it shut.”

“Could nick the keys off ‘im,” you muse. You’re not watching the stranger’s face, but it’s more expressive now that it’s been since you tugged the curtain covering the cage aside.

“You would do that for me?” he asks. “You believe me, you would free me?”

“Please,” you huff, “you’re bein’ treated cruelly. And I’ve no reason to trust the man who’s keepin’ you hostage, either. I won’t aid him.”

“Good to know that there’re still a handful of decent souls to be found,” he says, “even if I’ve only noticed a dearth of them.”

“But I don’t believe you in the slightest,” you add. Astarion squeezes his eyes shut.

“I swear to you that I am innocent, what more--” he starts, you cut him off with an unexpected smile.

“I know you’re innocent, I’m choosin’ to believe that. But I also know you’re far from honest,” you say. He cocks an eyebrow.

“Then we have an understanding,” he says. He sounds relieved and you nod.

“I’ll need the key, but I can steal it. Once you’re out, I’ll take you to the barn behind the inn. There’s cattle there,” you tell him. But Astarion bristles with feigned disgust.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” he snaps. 

You try your best not to roll your eyes. Lying, it seems, comes too naturally to him. With the plan laid out before you, you drop the padlock.

“I’m not stupid, Astarion. And you’re a poor liar,” is all you say. And it’s all that he does, too.

When you move to tug the curtain back over the cage, however, Astarion sits up. Panic is back in his eyes, you dislike the sight.

“No. Don’t, please,” he says. He holds his hands out, perilously close to the silver that burns him so badly. “I-- I haven’t seen outside in days. Leave it.”

“Of course, I wasn’t thinkin’,” you say. “I’ll be back in an hour or so, try to stay out of sight of any passers-by.”

You make a point to tug the curtain a little further back, giving Astarion a view of the Gull after dark. He watches you turn away.

The inn glows, light spilling out of its square windows. The Gur inside is still boasting, drinking himself into a stupor that he’ll have to sleep off eventually. But whether he’ll do it here is what worries you, what pushes you back inside and in search of the key that fits the padlock.

As you walk, you can hear the awful voice rising above the din. Part of you wonders if the vampire in the cage is lying to you about everything, for he is a liar at heart. Another knows that either way, what’s being done to him is evil. You pause before you open the door.

It’s time again to commit theft, which calls for a different arrangement of the face.

[hypexion]

A Pile of Fanwalkers (Part 2)

Part two of me posting a bunch of “OCs“, since actually working out a better way to organise and present is this information is clearly too much effort. Despite the fact I’m putting what could be charitably described as an amount of work into these posts.

The basic format for each planeswalker will be a Name/Colour Identity/Pre-Ignition Typeline/Homeplane blob of information, a quickish description of them and some “fun“ facts, and then some hits and misses for extra flavour. Also, I’m going to split this into three posts - “Heroic“, “Okay“ and “Villians“, for I believe I have the moral authority to judge my creations.

Also some of these are going to be from fanplanes, which will go undescribed beyond whatever tidbits come out the character flavour. Others will just have a ?, representing a lack of knowledge and/or sufficent worldbuilding. With that out of the way, let’s go!

Okay

Not everyone is actively Heroic, and that’s okay. Generally, this lot might not want to help you out, but they’re unlikely to ruin your day just for the sake of it. Of course, some might offer to help if their skills are a match for the situation, or if they stand to benefit. And some of them might be a little rude, but they generally won’t murder you.

Ferroxi - BGU, Faerie Artificer, ? - While other fae are luring you around in circles, trapping you in an eternal sleep, or stealing your name, Ferroxi is probably rummaging through your recycling looking for useful stuff. Born on a plane piled with interplanar scrap, she learned at a young age the value in taking things apart and occationally putting them back together again. Ferroxi sees the wastefulness of other planes as her gain, and is always on the look out for anything that can be fixed up, melted down or repurposed. This doesn’t stop at the physical, either. With a bit of work, she’s managed to keep a few Infinite Consortium cells spinning, as a way to provided access to resources she’d otherwise have trouble obtaining. Ultimately, Ferroxi brings her finds back to her clan, where she is considered a peerless salvager, able to seemingly conjure resources from nothing.

Ferroxi has hair she self-describes as “rust coloured“ and brown skin. Being a Faerie, she’s just over a foot tall. But don’t underestimate her. Just because her weapon of choice looks like a sewing needle, it doesn’t mean it can’t hurt you. Of course, she also has access to all the various fae tricks, so getting into a fight with her is generally going to end her favour. Just let Ferroxi have your old lightbulbs, okay? When she planeswalkers, she disappears into a puff of rust dust. Don’t breath that! (Generally you shouldn’t breath planeswalking auras, but the metal oxides to be especially avoided.)

Hits: Recycling, Izzet technology, Moxen, white and gold bordered cards. Misses: Izzet security, large animals, things that can’t be repaired or reused.

Mazamat - UB, Human Wizard, Akkyria - For Mazamat, death is merely a setback. After each defeat she rises again, a new body forged from mana in her ziggurat. As a mortal scholar, her fame was not enough to enjoy the immortality Akkyria offered it’s most renowned. So through careful research, she discovered an alternative, a way to tie her life force to the leylines that shaped her world. She divised a ritual, and performed it to perfection. And in seeking eternal life, she found something far greater. For Mazamat was born long before The Mending. Her ignition gave her powers beyond bound. Even with a fractional of her strength sequestered as an anchor for her soul, Mazamat was a force to be reckoned with. She mastered lifetimes of magics, slew gods, and accidentally created a few highly dangerous artifacts. Unfortunately, even without meeting Urza, Mazamat was affect by his ruinous influence. The Mending weakened her. Enough that it was now the majority of her strength that anchored her to Akkyria. This made planewalking fatal. But for Mazamat, death is merely a setback. No Lich forgets their Phylactery, and Mazamat did not forget the mechanics of her undeath. While the first sucessful test walk only worked because of the Interplanar Beacon, it provided Mazamat all she needed to write a new ritual, and continue her endless study.

Often, Mazamat isn’t hard to miss. It’s difficult to ignore the walking corpse with glowing purple eyes, even you’d prefer to. She could put more effort into looking presentable, given her wide magical knowledge, but generally considers it optional. When she does wish to tidy up her appearance, she tends to appear as she did in the middle of her mortal life. In this case, she has brown skin and grey-black hair, which she ties back into a bun to get it out of the way. She also dampens the eye-glow effect, although they still take on a purple hue. Mazamat tends to dress in the classical “Robed Wizard“ look, ardorned with various magical symbols. Mazamat’s planeswalking effet is a pulse of pale blue light, occationally leaving behind short-lived inscriptions on nearby surfaces.

Hits: Mastering skills, advising adventurers (who bring the appropriate tribute), a kind of savory cake served with honey and dried fruits. Misses: Dying (it’s still not fun, even if you come back), Nicol Bolas, Urza, whoever started the rumor that flying snakes could be found near her ziggurat, because now she can’t get rid of the things, being stuck on a plane.

Pyrolas - R, Dragon, Ithmorne - Many planeswalkers are subtle. Many are careful. Pyrolas is neither, because Pyrolas is a red dragon. When presented with a problem, they consider fire and fury to be an acceptable solution. As dragons go, Pyrolas is considered implusive and quick to act. This is good for the non-dragons living with their domain, as it means Pyrolas tends to deal with problems such as bandits within a week. Meaning you might actually have a home to go back to. Pyrolas is also less than interested in the ever-shifting politics of the Draconic Confedracy, prefering to get their excitement from visting other planes, or comissioning sweet new artworks. Like many dragons on their homeplane, Pyrolas graciously allows non-dragons to use the singular they when referring to them. This is nice, because in Ithmorne Draconic, pronouns are also honorifics, and using the wrong one can range from “slightly rude“ to “mortal insult“ (it’s also nice because some of them are very hard to pronounce if you aren’t a dragon).

Dragons on Ithmorne tend towards being more slender, and Pyrolas is no exception. However, unlike a certain dragon whose name has been misplaced, they all still look dragony. Pyrolas has red scales, except on the underside of their wings, where they are a more goldish colour. Since they’re a dragon, they don’t carry weapons. Rather, Pyrolas is the weapon, capable of spewing flame, clawing rocks to pieces and able to crush puny humanoids in their grasp. Thankfully, Pyrolas is a kind of “take it easy“ dragon, so you need to try pretty hard to provoke them. When they planeswalk, flames pour from their mouth and engulf them, followed by Pyrolas disappearing. This takes a little while, so they tend to do it while flying out of the way of danger.

Hits: Flying around, treasure, the fine arts, hosting tournements. Misses: Really cold places, dragon slayers, missing out on the chance to claw Bolas in his stupid dumb face, that time they went to Ixalan.

Tanzor - GUR, Shapeshifter, ? - Do you ever wonder how the multiverse fits together? Tanzor does, and they've embarked on the most ambitious planar cartography projection in the multiverse to work it out. Of course, along the way, they’ve picked up a number of other projects. These include subjects such as planar topology, monitoring aether currents, and tracking planes that have been inflicted by Phyrexians (thanks, Karn). Most recently, Tanzor has been investigating the aftershocks from the deaths of Kozilek and Ulamog, and the appearance of temporal anomalies around Tarkir. And with the possibility of more Planar Bridges being constructed, they could soon have a whole new set of issues on their hands. Or claws. Or tentacles. When you’re a changeling, it’s sometimes hard to keep track. When in doubt, check what the person you’re reflexively copying has. (When in a group of three or more people, Tanzor generally exerts concious control over their shapeshifting, as not to freak people out).

Describing Tanzor’s physical appearance is difficult, since as a changeling, it tends to shift around a lot. When changing form, it appears that their underlying changeling colour is dark blue, however. For simplicity, let’s just say they’re friend-shaped. When Tanzor planeswalkers, their form dissippates, and they appear to collapse into a single point.

Hits: Being able to be anything, wings/fins/toxins on demand, high vantage points, advanced eyeball techniques. Misses: Being asked why they can’t shapeshift into a form that isn’t injured, Phyrexians, whoever was the latest one to screw up the multiverse (currently: Bolas, previously: Gatewatch, Ugin/Sarkhan, and others).

Xand - BR, Human Rogue, Ravnica - Xand likes to introduce himself as a cultist of wealth and taste. Which is not entirely inaccurate. He’s a member of the Cult of Rakdos, he’s got money to burn, and he’s very concerned about food. But don’t mistake Xand for some regular glutton, looking to gorge on endless plates of substandard junk. Xand has standards. Out of a dozen recipes, even after days of refinement, only a few will make it to the menu of his bar - which is an unusually “classy“ environment for a Rakdos run business. Sure, you won’t find any Azorius, Selesnya or Ozhov patrons there, and higher ranked guild members tend to avoid the it, but it’s a decent place to grab a meal or a drink. And for the fancier members of Ravnican society, there’s always Café Xand, which features table cloths, a wine list and a krasis of the day. And with the countless flavours of the multiverse available to him, Xand is always looking to expand the menu.

Xand has pale brown skin and shoulder-length black hair. Like any self-respecting Rakdos cultist, he dresses in loud, colourful robes, often patched together from previous robes that didn’t survive whatever manic Rakdos event Xand was last at. He also has a surprisingly well kept set of chef’s clothing, as likes to ensure only the right ingredients get used when he’s cooking. For personal defense (and offense), Xand carries knives. Lots of knives. Too many knives, perhaps, even when you factor in his excuse that “you never know when you might need to cut a cake, or dice some vegetables”.  He’s also pretty good at using Rakdos “hype magic” to disorient his foes, since it turns out that feeling a bunch of conflicting emotions at once is really distracting. When he planewalks, Xand disappears in a burst of dark flame, which leaves a pleasant, yet unidentifiable scent.

Hits: Good food, fine wine, various parties, visiting Valor’s Reach. Misses: Canibbalism, bar fights in his bar, Orzhov insurance rates, not being able to get the right spices, people calling him Alexander.

Look at all these nice...ish people. None of them would be into Gatewatching, but they’re also not making things worse. Tanzor might be willing to help out if they’re in the right place, and if you can appeal to her self-interest, Mazamat might teach you something useful. But with the others, their self-interest is probably going to overcome their altruism most of the time. Of course, the multiverse also has some rather more... antagonistic planewalkers, but that’s for next time.

[lendmeyourpower]

     Guren smiled when he heard Mahiru’s voice, she was right in the room with him. As he turned he let go of just one more person that had been in that way of what was going to happen tonight. He didn’t even care that he had blood on his lips, he was just ..... glad she would be here in the end. She probably couldn’t hear him from where he was, but he spoke anyway, “Mahiru. My sweet Mahiru. You came after all.” 

     Tears were in her eyes, as she took in his appearance, hands on the hilt of her katana. Shinya was right next to her....comforting her. “Yes Guren, I did. Let us save you. You know we all care about you. We need you.” 

    Guren laughed a little at that. As he watched the distance close so that they could hear him now. “You can’t save me. I asked you time and again Mahiru to join me, but time is up. Sadly there is no more time to mess around with anymore.” 

     “Master Gur-” Sayuri started, but Mahiru cut her off. 

     “We can.”

     “You can’t! But I am glad you came,” he said with a smile that always made Mahiru’s heart flutter. 

    “I said I would!”

    She was right next to Guren than. He saw it like it was in slow motion. Every attack they made. It was so easy now that he was a vampire to dodge everything. He even knew the Fuda spells wouldn’t hurt him somehow, so he didn’t waste energy moving and didn’t feel anything when they went off. He could tell they were trying their best, and if he was his old self, he would be almost on par with Mahiru, maybe a little slower. But now he didn’t even have to fight. 

     “Sorry Mahiru,” he said softly. In the next second he grabbed her arm, and tossed her into the others. Smelling blood told him he had done his job at, at least pacifying them for now. Maybe now they would hear reason, and stop trying to fight him. But knowing all of them, they wouldn’t. His old bodyguards wanted to get him back, Shinya and the other two he figured were following Mahiru to save the world or for some other reason. 

    But Mahiru.....she was here due to him. He wanted her here. He could tell she loved him still, just like when they were little. At school she came to see him when he was hurt, even though he knew it would heal soon enough. She was the whole reason he had undergone this entire madness. 

     He wanted to give her, her wish. 

     He started to laugh at little. Watching all the mighty saviors on the ground, unable to even lay a hand on him. It was sad really. In the end, he was just as screwed as the day he was born. 

     “What the hell is so funny, you crazed Ichinose?” Shinya asked, finally able to get up, blood going down his mouth. 

     “Shinya!” Mahiru said worried. She moved to clean his mouth, but stopped when a deep growl came from behind her. 

     “Are you jealous Guren?” Shinya asked, in a mocking tone.

     Guren paid Shinya no mind. He had his eyes locked on Mahiru’s. “How long are you going to stick around these people? One is a stud horse we both know you don’t want, two are from a sect the Hiragis would rather see squashed, and the other two...just hanging onto due to your name. They don’t know you like I do. So why?” 

     So many emotions were filling the air of the room. Sayuri and Shigure seemed as if Guren had slashed them open and said that they were better off dead. Mito, who was still laying injured on the floor, was giving Guren a glare that made it seem her red hair was fire that would burn him if he got to close. Goshi was shaking his head and silently saying, not cool man. 

     The worst reaction out of Guren’s friends, was Shinya. He was standing there torn between crying and wanting to run over and punching Guren. They seemed to always have a connection for some reason, even now Guren could tell that his words had stung him so deep that he wanted to hate him beyond words. He was even shaking, and it wasn’t from the built up tears. Even so, there was a part of Shinya deep down, that couldn’t hate Guren for some reason. And that was going to be his down fall.

     Suddenly a voice broke the awful silence, “It is what you would have done.” Mahiru’s voice tore his crimson eyes away from the scene in front of him, to only focus on Mahiru. “I know you Guren, you need people. That is why you keep asking for me right. These are your friends too. They are worried about-”

     Shinya cut off Mahiru with a chuckle. “He knows he has us beat, and yet he doen’t do anything, but talk about friends. Well I will tell you one thing Mahiru I don’t think he needs friends. All he cares about is power.” 

     Guren growled again, his demon coming to the front of his mind. Sure he had power, sure he had to get it. He had his reasons, and things had to happen. Shinya however wouldn’t understand, he just saw the Ichinose teen that went on adventures with him, trying to get ahead of the families, even though Guren was working for both sides. 

     Shinya walked closer. “I’m right, are’t I. You once told me you wanted to save your clan and someone you cared about. What happened to that?”

    In an instant things could change. Guren had learned that when he was six. Shinya and the others were learning it now while Mahiru was screaming. One moment Shinya was just standing there, the next Guren jabbed his hand into Shinya’s chest, through ribs just to get to his heart. It would be so easy to rip it out, but instead Guren held back. He wanted Shinya to live a little longer. Which is why he was looking at Guren confused.

     “You don’t understand anything stud horse. My struggle has everything to do with them and Mahiru. If you and the others had just stayed out of the way, this would have ended differently.” 

     Shinya opened his mouth to try and answer but only blood came out. Guren only let the adopted Hiragi drop to the floor when he heard the lady of his heart crying his name over and over to stop and let Shinya go. 

     In that one moment no one did anything. The only noise besides the fans, was the blood dripping down Guren’s hand. He looked down at Shinya. There was a hurt and confused look on his face, the moment that he died. They would all wear that look soon. After all he had fought this to get to Mahiru, not to hurt her, but to......

     But it was too late. The least he could do is remove the fake friends that she had. The people that only used her for her name. The ones that didn’t know her as, her. The sweet, loving girl that just wanted to be normal. 

     It only took on tick of the clock, not even enough time for Siyuri to call out for her Lord to stop. For anyone to say Guren’s name. Soon only bodies remained, all headless, apart from the one Guren had in a head lock right now. It was Shigure. One of his most trusted friends and bodyguards once. Now in his madness, he just saw her as someone that was a threat between him and Mahiru. Someone that wasn’t really a friend. 

    “Guren, no!” Mahiru finally got out. 

     “”If he wishes to kill me than so be it,” Shigure finally said. “Master Guren is-”

     But what he was Mahiru would never know, Guren broke her neck, before fully taking her head off. Guren dropped her, as he did the others. Before walking over the bodies to come closer to Mahiru. 

    “There, no more fake friends. Just you and me. Like you wanted when we were kids.” 

    Mahiru at that point was crying, eyes fixed on everyone on the floor. She looked as if she was about to scream, as she pulled out Noya. Guren pushed her arm down and pulled her closer. “Hey, there is time for that later. Right now just know you are-”

      “Gggg tttt, your arm off of her.” 

    Guren growled as he saw that Shinya was still alive. Mahiru stabbed her cursed gear into the ground and ran to him. He pulled it out of the ground and held Noya, remembering when this was made, and when he gave it to Mahiru after they had a night together, ignoring Mahiru and Shinya talking. Mahiru was begging him not to die, Shinya was saying he was going to have to disappoint her yet again. But his last words caught Guren’s attention,

     “You’re lucky he loves you so much. You know why I came along, I guess I will have to tell him in person, I’m sorry I failed. Do it.....for me. Just don’t cry.....or let the demon win okay Mahiru.”

     Mahuri nodded, “Okay.” She kissed Shinya’s forehead. But the light had left his face and eyes by then. She shook him a few times and he just stared blankly at her, with his smile on his face, that got him through life.

     “What was he talking about?” Guren asked darkly, Noya over his shoulder.

    Mahiru stayed by Shinya, wiping her eyes. “He cared deeply for you. He said he wanted to save you since he made a promise to your father that he would. Now I have to do it, since I promised him.” When she got up and turned around she saw Guren holding Noya as if he was inspecting it. 

    “You can’t, not this time Mahiru. All you can do it this,” he said, handing her the hilt of the katana the housed Noya. She looked confused, but did as she was asked. “Noya thanks to you has drank a lot of blood from demons and humans, he is the last piece to the experiment that is happening tonight. Are you ready?”

     “Ready for what Guren?” she asked, afraid of what else could happen.

     What happened was worse. Worse than Guren killing their friends, worse than what had been happening over the last few days, worse than anything she could think of. Guren ran himself through with the blade so deep that he came right to her and hugged her. 

    “Guren!” Mahiru screamed, as Guren’s knees buckled and she had to lower him to the floor. She moved to pull it out. 

    “Don’t. This needs to happen, I am bound to your demon now.”

    “Why? Why are you doing this?” 

     “I said it before,” he said softly, when she moved to put his head in her lap, “to save you. This was meant to be you Mahiru. I took your place a long time ago. I found out you and your sister were born with demons, and I took them both.” 

    “The cursed gear you gave my sister?” 

    Guren slowly nodded his head, a few tears going down his face. “I wanted you and her to have a normal life, like you wanted.” 

    “What about you?!” 

    Guren was turning translucent and even though he seemed solid to hold, it was clear something was wrong at the point of contact of the sword. There was black lines coming out like veins, as if the sword was feeding on him.

    “I won’t be here very soon. I am becoming one with your demon.” He closed his eyes for a moment, when he spoke with his eyes closed he sounded more like his normal self. “Mahiru this place is to conduct the Seraph of the End experiment. The world will only end if someone activates it.”

    “What is it Guren? You never fully said.” 

    Guren opened his eyes, one red eye was already black. “It is stepping into a realm man should not go. It is the punishment to man when they bring someone back from the dead.”

    “Guren you are not making any sense,” Mahiru pointed out. 

    “I don’t have much time. I left you enough information Mahiru, no one is watch us. Take your sister and go, you don’t have to do this. You are the only thing keeping the world from ending. The experiment was meant for today can be stopped thanks to you.” He took in a deep breath. Looking up at her, he smiled, and Mahiru knew it was Guren and not the demon in that one moment. “I do love you, and I will be with you.” 

      Mahiru started crying. She bent down and kissed Guren. “Please don’t go. I love you.”

     But in that moment, she wasn’t holding him anymore, she was holding a katana sword, with a letter fluttering to the floor. Inside it was not Guren nor Noya, but a newborn demon, that had all the memories of Guren. 

    Outside Mahiru had made her choice, deciding that she was going to bring her and Guren’s friends back. As she strapped on her cursed gear she noticed the letter, gently opening she noticed Guren’s handwriting.

     My dear Mahiru,

                 By now I know that things have reached the end and I am going to die soon. I just wanted to sit down and write something while I still had a clear head. 

    I know what I am doing doesn’t seem fair to you, but it did save you from growing up just to die at sixteen. This was my way to save you like I promised when we were kids. I also wanted you to know that my choice was part of some Hiragi plan. So i would ask yourself, how do the Hiragis stay so powerful. 

    I would ask that you take care of my clan since I was the head and I had no heir at the time, and they had to use dad against me and I couldn’t come in they executed him for their own sick games. Since I was not fully sticking to their plans. I was at least grateful for the funeral, and that you came. 

       Guren didn’t sign it, but he did put a crimson lotus inside the letter. 

    Mahiru shook her head and called him her stupid prince. 

    When the world died at the hands of Mahiru Hiragi, the demon inside her blade awakened. 

    That demon’s name, Guren-Aku-Ya  

[unerringherring]

ASOIAF! (which tbh isn't the kind of fandom where me, and probably most people, think about shipping a whole lot, but im very interested in most bullet points)

Name a fandom and I’ll share tell you some things

So, I’m six weeks late with Starbucks, my bad. I started re-reading bits of the books to make sure I remembered things right and kinda sorta got sidetracked by that.Anyways, answers finally! (TWOW and onward spoilers in ROT13)

Favorite Male Character

These questions are absolute hell to answer given the sheer volume of interesting characters in these books. There’s the obvious picks with Tyrion, Jaime, Jon and etc. who I do love, but they’ve never really gotten to the point of favourite if that makes sense. Well, with the possible exception of Jaime.

I’m gonna rep one of my less popular favourites though and choose Mance. Bit of a strange choice, but he was one of the major things that got me invested in the stuff going on beyond the wall. If there’s one thing I love in these books, it’s the shades of grey, and the introduction of Mance pretty wildly shifts the perception of the wildlings as whole to be more sympathetic. After all the nastiness we saw with Craster and the diatribes of Qhorin, it was easy enough to write off the wildlings as “generic brutal tribe people #543”. Ygritte started to change that, but Mance got me really questioning how justified the Night’s Watch really were in this conflict.

Favorite Female Character

Same issues as above, there’s just so damn many well written and interesting female characters it’s hard to pick just one. Cersei and Asha (not Oaha, though I love her too) were some of the front runners here. In this case though, there is one who I’m slightly more fond of than most, and that’s Brienne.

There’s just something earnestly charming about her and the way grows throughout the books, I always knew I was in for a treat when one of her chapters came up. Remember how I said that Jaime was a possible runner for favourite? That’s pretty much solely because of his co-development with Brienne. Given the grim tone present most of the time, it’s hard not to love the unadulterated spirit of chivalry that makes up the core of her character.

Least Favorite Character

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh Quentyn Martell I guess? I don’t remember him doing much other than get burned alive, so I’ll go with him.

Favorite Ship

Whichever one Victarion is on, that boat is bound to be a barrel of laughs.

Jokes aside, I’ve never really thought about it. I used to kinda like the idea of Dany/Jon before I realised the implications. I kinda like Jaime/Brienne (basic taste, I know). I feel like throwing in JonCon/Rhaegar, but the tragedy of that is kinda a big part of JonCon’s character. I also like the contrast in Roose/Fat Walda, but we all know that’s not ending well. Not necessarily a romantic ship, but someone I know suggested the idea of Theon and Jeyne just settling down in a cottage to recover together after everything calms down, and I kinda like the idea.

Favorite Friendship

Oof, tough one. Gonna go with Stannis and Davos. The way they bounce off each other is always a fun read, and I’ll never stop being amused at the idea these guys are BFF’s after one of them literally cut off the guys fingers.

Favorite Quote

Just one? You’re killing me Ainara. It feels like a copout given basically everything he says is gold, but I gotta give it to Tyrion:

“Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.”

Worst Character Death (if any)

Funnily enough, most of the big deaths didn’t have a huge effect on me. Ned, the Red Wedding, didn’t upset me overmuch. I guess Jeor Mormont was a bit of a shock? Idk, I kinda went in expecting people to die so I’m not too sure how to answer this.

If we’re talking who had the most painful death though, I think I’ll give it to Quentyn. Surviving that long after that kind of horrific burning……. makes me uncomfortable just thinking about it.

Honourable mention to Jaime’s hand.

This made me so happy you have no idea Moment

Insert comment about Joffrey dying here.

Jokes aside, I absolutely loved when the dragons actually hatched in the first book. See, I had no idea this was a series of books at the time, given the name of the show I thought it was based on the one book. Because of that I thought Dany was legit gonna fucking die in that fire and we’d have a real tragic ending to her arc. Colour me shocked when it turned out she was alive and now had goddamn dragons.

Saddest Moment

Hasn’t technically happened yet, but I’m gonna be real sad when xvyyrq naq mbzovsvrq. Urer'f ubcvat gurer'f n jrr ovg zber rzbgvba jura vg unccraf va gur obbx.

Favorite Location

I feel like I’d be cheating by saying “Beyond the Wall”, but it’s kinda the truth. The idea of such a bleak and deadly landscape that his its own wild beauty about it? That’s my jam, 100%. It helps that a lot of the weird supernatural shit is also happening up there.