#takes from 200 years later

[istanbulite]

when Astraeus says he s never had someone like the mc he means he s never been with a woman achtually

[lunarharp]

lazy scribbling of my baldur's gate 3 characters

[rosymorns]

being obsessed w ur dnd character is so taxing. literally five people in the world know about her and only half of them care.

[maddy-ferguson]

i spent two hours (two hours) with my "friends" from school today and i'm MISERABLE roman voice you need to stop this (@ me)

[james-stark-the-writer]

I love being insane and rambling/loredumping for over an hour in a voice note about a niche thing in the lore/world of my nonexistent book that will probably never come up and is probably not important to the story at all that I know of because I haven't really started writing it yet besides two chapters and some snippets that were like a few years ago because I cannot be bothered to do research for a different WIP that is not even past the basic stages (the real inciting incident hasn't even happened) bc it's not a current priority before finishing the first draft that I have been working on for the last four years or the first draft of the other WIP I've been working on since the year two thousand and sixteen.

[askshivanulegacy]

/rant ahead

You know, I'm a suuuper lazy person. When I order stuff in the mail, I don't care when it arrives, just that it DOES. I'll wait months. It's fine. I love Kickstarters and I don't care how long it takes them to start shipping stuff out. I love independent crafters and sellers and I know people have lives. All I want is my stuff while I still remember that I ordered it.

I draw the line at two. fucking. years.

And this isn't even a Kickstarter, you know, because for Kickstarters I don't care. This is. A normal fucking website, where you place an order like a normal person. Like Etsy. Like Amazon.

It had hands-down, THE nicest, prettiest, most gorgeous selection of ultra detailed enamel pins I have ever seen. These were ART. Dragon pins. Fantasy pins. Pokemon pins. All the pins! Not just one or two, no, I'm talking the PIN MOTHERLOAD of GORGEOUSNESS.

I placed a very generous order and was looking forward to new releases and going back for more.

And then they proceeded to string me along for two years. Every time I turned around, there was some other "emergency." And it's not even like I was bugging them about it. I waited for holidays. I waited solid MONTHS between reaching back out. But every time, it was something new.

Meanwhile, other people were receiving their orders and they were still sending out website updates and advertising their Patreon, and the website constantly said "still taking orders!" across the top.

I'm sorry. Going on two years for my single order and you're still accepting payments from people and fulfilling their orders, but for some reason, you can't do mine??

Maybe you need to stop taking people's money if you can't keep up, and fulfill your existing obligations.

I WAITED for any kind of apology. I waited for them to say they would give me a discount. Or a refund. Or throw in some freebie pins.

I have the entire email trail and not a single time was I offered any kind of apology. It's just a pure string of excuse after excuse after excuse. Like, at some point, as a business person, it literally doesn't matter if you feel sorry or not, but you are obligated to say it. If you actually care about your customer service, if you actually care about your customer being sympathetic to your life events.

These people clearly did not.

So, after two years, I finally opened up my package and got my lovely two-year-old pins. Do you think there were any freebies thrown in? Pins? Stickers? Prints? Cheap apologetic garbage???

No. There was nothing. And not once was I offered any kind of a discount. At this point, you know, 5% would have been expected. 25% would have been realistic and reasonable. PLUS one or two free pins, especially if they ever wanted me to come back, given my sizable order in the first place.

Anyway. I thought about calling this shop out just to warn people off of it, but the pins are just that good that even if I did, it would only give them more business. Which I don't want. I even went back and browsed their entire website and there are whole handfuls of premiumly priced pins that I would throw money down for right now, if I hadn't just had to wait two years for them to find their own asses and deliver after constant lies.

So I'm not going to say who they are. If you ask me to name them, I cannot in good conscience tell you. But if you see an independent pin website out there with a "hiatus but still accepting orders!" banner across the top, then order at your own risk. You can privately send me the name of a place and I will say yes or no.

But that's it. This shop is dead to me. I wish it wasn't. I would order again. For any sellers out there, take note: if you screw up THAT royally, you need to be acknowledging it, and you need to be offering freebies and/or discounts. I would have come back if they had just thrown me a damn bone. I wanted them to. I was waiting for it. It was so, so, so, so obvious that, two years later (!!!!) maybe even a small kind word would have been warranted!

But they didn't.

[oldbookist]

I was working on a history paper today and found a book from 1826 that seemed promising (though dull) for my topic, on an English Catholic family’s experience moving to France.

And it ended up not really being suitable for my purposes, as it goes. But part of the book is actually devoted to Kenelm, the author’s oldest son…and man, his dad loved him.

Kenelm seems to have had a fairly typical upbringing for a young English gentleman, although he is a bit slow to read. At twelve he’s sent to board at Stoneyhurst College—often the big step towards independence in a boy’s life, as he’ll most likely only see his parents sporadically from now on, and then leave for university.

When he’s sixteen, however, his father moves the whole family to France, so Kenelm gets pulled out of school to be with them again. Shortly after the move, his dad notices that he seems depressed. Kenelm confides in him that he’s been suffering from “scruples” for the last eighteen months—most likely what we’d now call an anxiety disorder.

And his dad is pissed—at the school, because apparently Kenelm had been seeking help there and received none, despite obviously struggling with mental health issues. So his dad takes it seriously. He sets him up to be counseled by a priest—there were no therapists back then—and doesn’t send him away to be boarded again, instead teaching him at home himself.

And his mental health does improve. His dad describes him as well-liked, gentle, pious, kind and eager to please others; at twenty he’s thinking about a career in diplomacy or going into the military—which his dad thinks he is not particularly suited for, considering his favorite pastimes are drawing and reading. He’s excited about his family’s upcoming move to Italy, and he’s been busy learning Italian and teaching it to his siblings.

Henry Kenelm Beste dies of typhus at twenty years, four months, and twenty-five days. That’s how his dad records it. That’s why his dad is telling this story. It’s not an extraordinary story—Kenelm’s story struck me because he sounds so…ordinary, like so many kids today. And he was so, so loved. His dad tried hard to help him compassionately with his mental health at a time where our current knowledge and support systems didn’t exist. You can feel how badly he wanted his son to be remembered and loved, to impress how dearly beloved he was to the people who knew him in life.

I hope he’d be glad to know someone is still thinking of Kenelm over 200 years later.

Anyway, that’s why I’m crying today.

[feathered-serpents]

Lmao my TikTok was too long to upload here so I’m just gonna retype it all out

Chester and Norris: Are they really Jon and Martin?

Wrong question imo! The BETTER question is: How MUCH of Jon and Martin are Chester and Norris?

The fact is these programs have SOME link to Jon and Martin, Jonny and Alex would not be voicing them otherwise, so what it comes down to is how much of a link?

Because it could be that it’s ONLY their voices. Annabelle explained to Jon that the tapes belonged to the Web, and that by “taking his voice” Jon was therefore bound to the Web and the other fears by extension. It’s entirely possible that when the Fears left Archives’ universe, they brought Jon (and Martin as he was also on the tapes) voices over with them, but JUST the voices. Nothing else. It’s just a coat of paint over the entities methods of collection, Chester and Norris aren’t Jon and Martin anymore than glasses are the person wearing them

But I’m not sure that’s the case. There’s a lot of holes there. The main one being: why? If it is just hollow voices, then why? What’s the purpose of the fears using them? It’s only been two episodes, so it might be answered later, but let’s talk about the second possibility

Chester and Norris ARE Jon and Martin, they just aren’t aware. When Martin “cut the tether” in episode 200, he didn’t cut the Fears away from Jon, he cut the Fears away from the world and at that point, as the Pupil of the Eye, Jon was part of the fears. Since Martin was in the panopticon when they went, he went too.

And now we have a disembodied Jon and Martin existing in a dazed but still hungry state. They seek out whatever’s familiar and since there’s no Magnus Institute, they go to the OIAR, get into their system, and read out any “real” statements they can find. Feeding off of them.

In this possibility, Jon and Martin are effectively asleep. They aren’t aware of what they’re doing really, just going by their new instincts/nature. But I think the more they feed, the more conscious they’ll become, and we’ll start to Chester and Norris break script. Stutter over a word. Add words. Things that a text to speech program simply CAN’T do even if glitched to shit

What complicates this possibility is the fact that Alice said they only showed up a year ago when it’s implied the OIAR has existed much longer than that as well as the fears in this world. It could be they move from place to place feeding off what they can, and when that’s bled dry, they move somewhere else? If they’re as intertwined with the fears as this theory implies, they could exist across infinite universes, staying alive like this

I’m not sure! It’s super interesting tho. I think the saddest ending would be if it’s never really answered, and Jon becomes, at least in some ways, a mystery

[thedevilssinner]

I wanna share something because I don't want to suffer alone with my thoughts 😅

It's one of the scenarios where Tav knew Astarion before he was turned, but I've never read anything where it played out like this.

I apologize if something is wrong, English is not my native language.

Imagine that Tav is an elf and Astarion's lover before he was turned.

They're devastated when they finds out that Astarion has been killed. Mourning his death for a very long time and even moving away from Baldur's gate because everything reminds them too much of Astarion.

They know that all their happiness and love are gone. No one can fill the void that Astarion's death has brought them.

And now, two hundred years later, they stand on the beach, the sun beating down on their head, the burning Nautiloid at their back and before them... Astarion?

Only it's all wrong, his eyes are red and he's pale... paler than he's ever been.

Anger rises up in Tav. How dare some shapeshifter even take on Astarion's form after their beloved has been dead for 200 years?

And do a bad job at it!

Before the pale creature could even call for help again, Tav lunged at him with an angry cry, surprising the imitation and truckling it to the ground, dagger pressed to it's throat while they straddled his body. "How dare you?! How dare you to take his form?! Show me who you really are... now!" They command, surprising even themselves with their actions. But they couldn't stop... not when someone is using Astarion's face for gods knows what.

"Darling, there seems to have been a little misunderstanding. I don't know what you're talking about, and I'd appreciate it if you'd remove the dagger from my neck." The shapeshifter replies, his voice smooth and flirtatious and so unmistakably Astarion's that it hurts, and Tav presses the dagger a little harder against his neck.

"Shut up, shapeshifter!" Tav shouts at him, gaze anchored on that so familiar yet different face. "Where did you even get his face?! His voice?!" They ask angrily, the hand holding the dagger starting to shake. "You have no rights to pretend you're Astarion when he's... when he's gone. And to do it badly!" They continue, still angry but deep seated sadness linger behind.

The shapeshifter's eyes widen, opening his mouth as if he wants to say something, Tav noticing the fangs there and even worse idea that him being a shapeshifter, starts to creep into their mind.

"Tav?" Fake Astarion finally speaks, saying their name as if he were saying it for the first time in a long time, tasting it on his lips. The previous flirting gone. Instead he looked confused and as if just now he remembered something that was hidden in his mind. "You are them, aren't you? Gods, how could I forget... so beautiful." His red eyes glide along Tav's face, his voice nothing than a whisper. He's clearly lost in his head and Tav swallows thickly, realisation slowly grasping their mind but they fight against it.

"No, stop! Stop it! You can't be him. You can't... he's dead and your eyes are wrong. You're wrong." Tav says, their body starting to shake all over, threatening to cut him by mistake with the dagger still against his neck.

But now it's easy for 'the shapeshifter' to take Tav's wrist and move their hand away from his neck, easily wrenching the dagger from their fingers and tossing it aside. His lips stretch into a sad smile.

"That's what vampirism do to you, my love." Astarion says ever so softly, the deepest pain and sadness etched in his voice and Tav knows, feels it in their soul, that he is telling the truth.

So that's how Tav meets Astarion again, this encounter more painful and bittersweet than anything else.

They stay on the beach for a little while, Tav crying their heart out and Astarion trying to hold back his own tears. Both of them not expecting something like this to happen.

(Sorry if Astarion seems ooc.)

[tiredandlonelymuse]

My therapist once told me, “You are the guiltiest feeling person I’ve ever met” and just to prove her right, I took it to heart. An astrologer said, “You have so much water in your chart. What is it like to feel the emotions of every single person alive, everyday?” and I wept because I sensed he was displeased. A teacher told my parents “She’s very sensitive. Far more than the other kids in her class.” I took my SATs at 9 years old, but they encouraged my mother to hold me back because of how my eyes glistened when I heard the word no. She told them to go to hell. So I cried my way through my education until high school when they said “You take everything so personally, you’ll never survive in a company environment. You wouldn’t make a good employee.” So I employed myself (out of spite or…necessity) and then later, I hired 200 people. A boyfriend told me “Don’t be so dramatic, everything isn’t a movie.” Fine, so it’ll be an album then. The doctor said “This shouldn’t hurt a bit.” I tread daily on a minefield that leaves me classifying the variations in footsteps, the tonality in voice, a change in breath. “Is everything okay? You seem mad” is my pledge of allegiance to this tightly wound bundle of flesh. I am cut open, butterflied and flayed, with every single nerve exposed like live wires and, yes, they all hurt to touch. Each interaction is a litmus test of how well liked I am, and therefore how worthy to live. I wake up every morning and the moral barometer resets, T-minus 12 hours to prove to myself that I am not the bad person I believe I must be. Sleep, repeat. An amnesiac nightmare. Prometheus on a rock and the gull in my guts is myself. I once envied those with greater armor, but not anymore. “Why do you care so much?” Guard yourself from the little grievances, but the shield does not differentiate. The space where I am vulnerable to the pain that passes through is an entry point for the microscopic good that others may miss. I live in technicolor torment. If I could do it over again and choose the comfortable grey, I would seize a knife and cut the little keyholes back into my every limb. So the light can get in.

[foone]

So here's how the story goes. Four young adults are teleported away from 1940s earth, where it turns out they're the last descendants of the great sages who defeated evil all those years ago, but with his last breath banished the sages to earth. Now, 200 years later, evil has risen again: a vile sorcerer has raised an army and is threatening the peaceful kingdoms of a fantasy world, and only the Divine Bloodline can weild the Weapons of Light and defeat the rampaging hordes. The heroes take up their weapons and fight the good fight, leading the armies of man and elf and dwarf and beast against the evil orcs, who are vaporized by their touch. They cut a path through the horde and defeat evil's greatest champions, who were guarding the Gem of Control, an ancient artifact that gave the terrible wizard control over the orcish population. Just as one of them swings their hammer to shatter it, the wizard intervenes, and uses the last bit of his control to destroy his army, lest they join you in their freed state. As the pieces of the gem hit the floor, already losing their sickly green glow, they see the attacking orcs fade into mist. They'd killed hundreds in your crusade, sure, but he just killed all of them. They later learn, against all fervent hopes, that this extended to the orcish homelands. Men, women, and children, cooking in their homes, planting the crops, raising brutecows and hunting in the dark forests... All gone in an instant. The scouts report a silent land with tools lying in workshops, food left uneaten at dining tables, and bursting into tears at entering a house to find it was a schoolhouse: Quills lying in all the seats, with rough parchment next to it showing the first few letters of the orcish alphabet.

They redouble their efforts, now fueled with genuine hatred for the evil sorcerer. He shifts his tactics, relying on darker magics to summon undead minions, which don't need the Gem of Control. They don't go poof when a holy weapon touches them, but are still no match for the divine warriors. With a skeleton the size of a zeppelin smashing down towers around them, the warriors reach the wizard and drive a broadsword of light through his chest. The skeletons collapse back into their eternal slumber in little piles on the floor.

The warriors put aside their weapons as they're received with great cheer. They're invited to join the royal families of the four kingdoms, marrying into the human, elf, dwarf, and beast royalty. They spend the rest of their long reign ensuring peace returns, monuments are made for the fallen orc nation, and the remaining undead who fled are not allowed to prey on the peasants, only taking up arms again to fight a den of vampires left behind.

In their old age, the wizard who brought them here reappears. It's taken him decades to develop the right magics, but he can finally send them home. They abdicate, letting their hybrid offspring take control, certain in their ability to run a kingdom with wisdom and justice. They leave behind their holy weapons, in case evil rises again. The wizard warns them that much may have changed in the world they left, as 80 years has passed there while it was only 40 for them, but they still want to see if London still stands and if their families or their descendants are alive.

They appear in the modern day, 2024. They're amazed at the technological progress, of course, but then there's a bigger shock. This isn't just an isekai story: this is a reverse-isekai story.

The holy weapons were forged using the same magics that brought them to the fantasy world in the first place. When they vaporized orcs, they didn't die, they were teleported. Teleported here. Every mind-controlled orc warrior that tasted their blade woke up uninjured... in Portsmouth.

And when the sorcerer tried to wipe them all out as the Gem of Control shattered, all he did was transfer that magic to every one of them. None of them died, except for a few elderly orcs who dropped dead from shock at ending up in England, Earth, 1943.

It's now 2024. The Orc population of London is 3 million. There's twelve orcs in parliament, and another in the house of lords. The world has changed a lot since they left, for the better, the weirder, and the greener.

[aha-chuu]

Here's the thing. "Renheng but Blade is immortal and nothing goes wrong" goes totally against the themes set up in HSR. But it's so fucking funny.

So, Dan Feng loves Yingxing whatever. They decide to make Yingxing immortal together and then BAM no one finds out (so no big crime to be arrested for) but there's two ways to play it. Either they have to slowly gaslight everyone into believing YX was a long life species this whole time, or they have to somehow pretend this is not YX, this is some other 100% naturally immortal dude and Dan Feng just has the Most specific type ever, to the point that he basically got his exes twin but immortal with a cooler haircut.

And with the gaslighting idea - I think it could work. No one's gonna notice that YX isn't aging for at least a few years, probably more since everyone they know is long-life and they likely have a warped perception of how regular aging works. So DF & YX just gotta wait like 5-10 years, slowly dropping hints that "oh yeah can't wait till our 150th anniversary!!" And Jing Yuan is like "... Hmm is that normal? That's probably normal?".

Cos also. Who's gonna mention it? Like it's gonna take so long for anyone to notice, is Jingliu gonna eventually sit them down like "you did a big sin didn't you" and then YX and DF just play dumb: "what??? Jingliu what are you on about? Is Mara eating all your memories of YX definitely being immortal this whole time?" So that's not good for Jingliu's mental health but whatever.

Anyway so Dan Feng and Yingxing have successfully scammed everyone but DF is still definitely the High Elder and absolutely no one wants him to be dating this guy. Also the dragon heart is missing cos it's in YX's chest and surely the Preceptors would check up on that? Like a renewal service? Some sort of 200-year check-up? Does DF have to take his bf with him so the aura is nearby? It's just a game of "how dumb are these guys?" Until all those preceptors reincarnate into ones who DF can convince "oh no the High Elder is supposed to give the dragon heart to their beloved. Yeah it's a ritual. Oh the immortality uh no Yingxing had that forever obviously".

Eventually YX is gonna get stabbed and he's definitely more immortal than everyone else. More gaslighting ensues probably, cos otherwise it's like?? He's just an abundance monstrosity (Jingliu is seeing red rn) and Jing Yuan has sussed it out at this point but yknow he likes YX; he prefers him being alive than dead. Jingliu is gonna stab YX for being an undying monstrosity and JY steps in - "nooo don't you know I mean ig your parents never told you but if uhhhh you suck enough dragon dick this is totally normal -" and anyway Sanctus Medicus get a lil fetishy sex crazed from that conspiracy theory.

Then later DF has to be reborn which is sad, but I like to think YX just takes like. A gap year from their relationship. He's a divorced old man he deserves a mid life crisis while DH gets the "plss don't fall in love this idiot guy again" speech from the other Vidyadhara but it's working like reverse psychology, DH is all "pshh I'm way too put-together for that!!" And anyway YX is still a hot piece of ass so DH fails immediately.

One day DH gets a dream memory about the whole sinning part of their relationship and has to come to terms with That™ meanwhile YX is sipping a mimosa while he's having a moral dilemma. "No babe it's fine it's like. Yeah it is a hellish sin but it's cute that you're so worried about it. No they can't try us for crimes we did so long ago don't worry" meanwhile JY is still dealing with the paperwork nightmare from YX's birth certificate definitely not being that of a long-life person's but ehh.

Basically fluffy unproblematic renheng where no one gets amnesiaed or tortured is great and good even if it laughs in the face of canon.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝓈ℯ𝓉𝓈

This is so self indulgent, i luv Ducati’s <3 soft!Rafe my love. No warnings just tooth rottin fluff (:

Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Dude, that thing is fucking amazing.” His friend said, admiring Rafe’s new motorcycle.

“I know.” He said, a grin on his face. You stood next to him, already having heard about it all over text and calls and even over your date last night. Ever since he got it he hasn’t stopped talking.

“And it’s a damn ducati. How much did that shit cost?” Topper asked him.

“This baby cost me 50,00.” Rafe replied, looking at it, his hand caressing the seat. You rolled your eyes, Jesus he looked at that thing like he was in love with it.

“We done now?” You asked him, he turned to look at you now, your helmet in your hands.

“In a minute, sweetheart.” He said, turning back to his friends now. “It can go up to… 200 miles per hour.” He tilted his head to the side, remembering it.

“Damn! So it’s 1000cc?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” They continued to talk for a little until you let out a sigh, he knew it was time.

“Well, we should get goin’ now. I’ll see you guys later.” He said, saying goodbye and hopping on the bike. You got on after him. Wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, you both putting your helmets on.

He started it, and you both were on the road, tour grip on his waist tightening, your body flush against his.

He decided to take the scenic route, which was actually just past an old trail that no went on , driving past it and the setting sun.

He looked in the back of him and saw no one was behind him, so he slowed down a bit to look with you.

He glanced back at you, watching you flip your visor up to get a clearer view. He had a small smile underneath his helmet.

You looked at him back, noticing his eyes even through the helmet. You gave him a small smile, and he mumbled a ‘fuck it,’ parking on the side. It was an empty road next to an abandoned trail , no one would be here anyways.

He flipped up his visor, now turning his body to look at the sunset, still sat on the bike. You turned around to, putting your head on his shoulder, the bulkiness of your helmet making a raspy laugh escape him.

“I love you.” He mumbled quietly, suddenly feeling the urge to say it.

You turned to him now, your head lifting from his shoulder to look at him. In your many years of being friends and dating, he’s never said it.

A smile made its way onto your face, you grabbed his helmet, your eyes looking into his now.

“I love you.” You said back, he smiled back and you leaned your head back onto his shoulder.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, you both watching the sun dissapear from behind the trees. You stayed like that for a while, in the comfortable, beautiful silence.

[richiehugs]

Just a countryboy

Richard was an ordinary country boy. The oldest of four siblings, he had learnt early how to take responsibility in his life. He grew tall very fast as a teenager, being the tallest in the family at a height of 6'3" / 190 cm. As a result of his rapid growth in height, he had his abs out, though he was really thin in the arms and legs. He was severely underweight to his height, with about 150 lbs / 68 kg.

As time passed by, he dropped out of high school early, and started to work at a local facility. The job included lifting heavy objects, so he got his appetite worked up as well. With his growing appetite and regular drinking with the colleagues, he gradually started to gain weight, but for a countryboy, he didn't have anyone to judge him.

At some point, he met a beautiful girl at a party, visiting from abroad. They got immediately in love and decided to move in together. Thus their life together began. They were just a young couple, enjoying life. Though Richard started to seem rounding out… a bit more.

It turned out the girl didn't mind her boyfriend not being thin as a stick. As a matter of fact, she was a rather good chef, and got later a job at a local snack bar/restaurant. Richard was in heaven. He had a beautiful, hard-working, great cook at the house. So he decided to takes things to the next level, and got married and started a family.

But Richard was soon to realize that a family comes with greater responsibility. They got really surprised when instead of one kid they got triplets right away. He must work really hard to feed his family and himself, but after all, he got a raise and their family was thriving. And so did he. For with the dad-roll, he got a thick dadbod.

Remember? He was already in a careless-thickening-phase before he became a father, but then his weight really started to pile on. Twenty pounds in a couple of months wasn't a joke. So he met up with an old trainer friend to stop his weight gain - but after a couple of sessions he gave up his goals for summer. He wanted to spend more time with his family, and having to work hard, with triplets at home - there was no time for gym.

So he rather kept eatin' than gymmin'. In the end, he never lost his moobs and gut, ballooning up to be fatter than ever. And considering that his kids are barely three years old - who knows what the next fifteen years will bring?

This is the ten year story of Richard, a young countryboy to a fat dad . You can tell how the different phases of life has affected him: 2013 to 2020 to 2023, 150 lbs to 200 lbs to 240 lbs, single to pre-covid dating to post-covid dadbod, 5% to 15% to 25% bodyfat.

(Disclaimer: the numbers are rough estimates.) Do not reuse any of the pictures.

[rawrsatthetree]

Yes the reason romanced Astarion doesn’t react when durge is laying dead on the floor of the Bhaal temple and just gives a generic companion response is because the game developers only had so much time and budget so scenes that definitely should’ve had something got overlooked.

However consider this. Astarion doesn’t react because he can’t. After 200 years of being constantly subjected to horrible shit he just doesn’t react to horrible things. In the past reaction would either lead to punishment or just encourage Cazador to push him further. It takes him at least 5 to 7 business days to process traumatic events.

Imagine he doesn’t react much at all and your other companions that were with you and saw what happened are just constantly like “are you ok???” Maybe they're even mad at him accusing him of not caring or not loving them enough. Even durge tries to make sure he’s ok but they know him well enough to not push it or assume he just doesn’t care.

Then a week later maybe they’re all out shopping or down at the tavern just trying to relax for a moment and it hits him. All at once all the terror, all the grief, all the anger he felt as he watched Bhaal take the blood from their veins comes crashing down.

[byoldervine]

Motivation For Writing

Getting Off Your Butt:

1. Aestheticise it. Let the light in through the curtains, turn on your fairy lights, lay a blanket over your lap, light some candles, whatever you need to do to feel like a writer. The right vibes can go a long way

2. Picture that one scene. There’s almost always a moment you’re super excited about that basically inspired the whole book. Picture it, play it out in your head in full cinematic fanfare, gush to yourself about how cool it is and how everyone will love it, picture a future fanbase going nuts for it. You might get excited enough to go back to writing

3. Set a word count goal. During NaNoWriMo this year I think I wrote more than I ever have in one go. The thing that kept me coming back was the desire to not fall behind. I ended up with ~45K words after some complications irl caused me to drop off in the final few days, and that’s all just because I was adding up the 1667 a day word count goal and realising where I needed to be at to keep up. I definitely can’t stay as rigid as I did with 1667 words every single day, but seeing that you’re only a few hundred words off of a goal is super motivating - just be sure to set realistic, easy to achieve parameters for just general use, like 1000-2000 words per week. I know 200 words per day is a popular one for people trying to establish a writing routine that can’t dedicate forever to the craft

Maintaining Motivation:

1. Writing sprints. Writing sprints are a godsend for me, I like to set myself up in the living room with Abbie Emmons’ writing sprint video on. The video lasts two hours and is broken up into two parts; 25 minutes to write and 5 minutes for breaks between writing, so four 30 minute sprints overall. Having the timer and countdown with peaceful music and an aesthetic background is both relaxing and encouraging, as well as giving me a specific time for how much longer I have to push through. It’s easier for me to say “Okay, only ten more minutes, then you can take a break” then it is to say “Just keep going, we’re not stopping until I say so” which is too arbitrary for my brain to accept

2. Give yourself a choice. If you’re struggling to keep your focus, come up with a finish line and tell yourself you don’t have to do any more work once you’ve reached that point. Finish the paragraph, go for another five or ten minutes, keep it up until your next scheduled break. Whatever sounds realistic and doable without being overwhelming. And once you’ve met this goal, ask yourself if you still want to stop. With any luck, you’ll have gotten back into the zone and will choose to keep going. Maybe you’ll want to take a quick break but you’ll come back later on. And maybe you’ll decide that now actually is a good stopping point. Just remember that, if you do still want to stop, don’t force yourself to keep going. You can’t strike deals with yourself if you know you won’t keep your word and all you’ll end up doing is burning yourself out, which will lead to even less writing getting done

3. Try a new angle. If you can’t be bothered to write anymore, is there anything else you can do for your book? Plotting, editing, worldbuilding, character sheets, one-shots all that sort of thing can still be productive for your book while still being different enough to give your brain a slight respite. It also means less work in that particular area later on

Afterwards:

1. Organise. Clean up your workspace and put everything away so it’s nice and neat for when you come back to it. Or if you don’t need to pack things out the way, set it up in an aesthetically pleasing way so it will tempt you back next time. Let it give you the writer vibe

2. Take care of yourself. Get a drink, have a snack, walk about, stretch your limbs, take a breath, cuddle your pet. Something that gets you away from straining your eyes looking at text for a bit. This is also a good time to reward yourself if positive reinforcement is something you use on yourself. If you always feel shitty after your writing sessions, you won’t want to go back to it

3. Positive reflection. Make sure to tell yourself you did good, even if you didn’t get as much done as you would’ve liked or it isn’t up to a standard of quality you’re aiming for. That can all be fixed later on, and you’re infinitely better off than you would’ve been if you didn’t do it. Be proud of yourself. Tell yourself you’re proud of your hard work and your dedication and your effort. Remind yourself that this is a fun thing you like to do. Marvel over how insane it is that you’ve gotten this far - not many people do - and that you’ve got all this tangible work to prove you’ve accomplished something so many people wish they could pull off. If this isn’t fun overall, there’s no point