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You know, when I've remarked that a lot of the responses to my posts feel like people are just plucking out keywords they think they recognise based on the shape of them and replying to what they imagine the post says based on that, the possibility never occurred to me that this is actually how many American schools are currently teaching kids to read.
devastating when good characters are put into a stupid show. you were born to fly but that evil hag of a showrunner clipped your golden wings. be free on ao3, my little dove. be free
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There's something very melancholic about Xavier having to live such a long life and having to sever ties with people he grew close to. And it is very evident in this one with how he has to fake his own death and move on..to a new identity and new life..unable to hold onto these people and connections because he will simply outlive them 😭
Happy 1 Year Anniversary to Xavier’s King of Darknight
KoD’s poster by the amazing Shi Min beautifully depicts not only his pain as he cradles Queen MC’s crown but also centers him as the focus, portraying him as a sort of protagonist on his unrelenting quest..🤌
It genuinely feels like Valko was revealed like 3 months ago, not 1 month ago 😭
But at this point, I feel like Infold/Papergames really don't have any excuse NOT to release Valko. With all that has come to light recently, I think they would just be squandering this opportunity if they didn't bring him back.
I know there's still some negativity around that, but considering how much people have fought for Valko, donated to charities, how official media looks at him... It's like the opportunity has been offered to them with a golden plate. This is the key to get out of this. And genuinely, if Valko gets a successful release after this, I think it might be even more better outcome to Infold than that Valko would have been released without all this drama around it.
I don't want to get disappointed though anymore, so I'm just cautiously optimistic and hoping Infold/PG sees this situation.
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It started, innocently enough, within the glow of tealight candles.
“Think I’ll have the steak,” Valko said, peeking over the top of his raised-up menu.
You bit back a smile behind yours. “No shit.”
He lifted an eyebrow, and you chuckled remorselessly. It was your first date; you already had in-jokes. You quipped that the man would never suffer from an iron deficiency. He insisted you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Or, well… get it to dabble in vegetarian options.
“What’re you thinking?” he eventually asked.
“I don’t know…” You squinted at your choices, all typed out in a font trying too hard to be calligraphy. “This place is kinda pricey, Val.”
Not a complaint— just an offhand remark from a Deepspace Hunter more familiar with small numbers than big ones. Valko blinked. Then he tore away a strip of his menu: a sharp shhhick of splitting card, and the prices fluttered down to the floor beside your table, to your bewilderment. The revised menu was passed over with a grin.
It was unexpected, to say the least. Chivalrous. Snobby, but cute.
And a waiter had noticed.
For two minutes afterwards, you stifled sniggers as Valko apologised profusely. He wouldn’t do it again! It was, uh… it was supposed to be a grand gesture! He was trying to be romantic, and no, he would not, under any circumstances, try to be romantic again.
By the time the waiter walked away, only mildly appeased, Valko’s face was the same reddish hue of his hair.
“Still thinking about the steak, big spender?” you cooed, doing absolutely nothing to save his complexion.
“Fuck,” he muttered, mortified, “you must think I’m such a snob.”
“Well, you littered in my apartment the other night. And you just said ‘fuck’ in a fancy restaurant, so… jury’s still out.” Your menu was flopped down so you could look at him. Your eyes sparkled. “You’re very complex, you know.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“You’re… multifaceted.”
Valko sank his face into his hands, slipping down in his chair until most of him was hidden under the table (and he isn’t small; it was quite the feat). The waiter spotted him from across the room. He sat up straight, jolting the table in his haste, and you bit back another smile as your cutlery clattered, and your drink sloshed.
In the end, he ordered a salad.
…
It’s eleven o’clock, the same night, and you’ve traded tealights for your stove.
A steak sizzles in a frying pan as you ladle melted butter on with a teaspoon. Your kitchen is warm, thick with the rich scent of roasting meat, and Valko is trying not to look overeager, but his nose is twitching. The soft of his tail flicks behind him. He wets his lips with a dart of his tongue.
“You don’t have to—” he starts to protest, just like he protested in the aisles of the supermarket, and at the till, and throughout the walk home.
“I want to,” you interrupt, even though he hasn’t found that argument particularly compelling so far. Twentieth time’s the charm, you hope. You reach to pinch at his cheek. “You’re looking a little anaemic, y’know. I’m worried.”
He rolls his eyes, but the blush he picked up at the restaurant never did entirely fade away. His ears are folded back, flat against his hair, and when you beckon for the salt, he hands it over in silence. He must regret that silence when, a moment later, his stomach grumbles. The pink of his face deepens.
“Sorry,” he voices quietly, since he’s given up on dignity. It’s in a grave, and not a shallow one, so he’s forced to move on without it. “I’m so embarrassed. Shouldn’t have tried to show off.”
You chuckle fondly, thinking back to the restaurant. The scene is on loop in the theatre of your minds, except he’s cringing in horror whilst you munch down on popcorn; it’s your new favourite movie. “Don’t be sorry. I loved it, Valko. It was sweet. Really sweet.”
The steak has caramelised in the pool of butter and herbs, so you turn the stove down, leaving it to cook through. Valko’s still trying to keep his nose from twitching too much. You cup his face with your hands.
“Kinda a sheep in wolf’s clothing, huh?”
He mumbles: “Don’t know if I like that.”
But his cheeks are so, so warm under your fingers, and he’s dodging your gaze again, making you giggle. “You committed vandalism for me.”
“It was a menu.”
“We’ll… make it something cooler when we tell people the story.”
(You won’t. You still have the torn menu, and one day, you’ll bring it out for guests at every given opportunity.)
“I had a really nice time tonight, Val.” You ease him towards you, gently, so you can press a kiss to his cheek. “Promise.”
That tail has picked up its pace. His ears are lifting. “Mm,” he grumbles, “you sure?”
“Mmhmm.” You kiss the tip of his nose. Then his cheek again. Then the line of his jaw.
He relaxes, and your awkward evening tips into the night where, for the first time, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Kisses you there, slow and grateful, and pulls you close enough that he can hear your breath catch.
With a click, the stove is turned off behind you. Huh? “What’re you—?”
“Forget the food.” When Valko pulls back, the gold of his eyes is hot. He smirks, emboldened at last by your reaction, and a merciful lack of nearby waiters. “Got something else I wanna eat...”
You gasp.
His ears go flat. “No, I didn’t mean—!” He scrambles. “Well, I did, but not… not quite as literally as… not that I wouldn’t want to, uh… fuck. Not fuck! Not saying we should fuck, I just—”
Yeah, he’s only digging himself deeper. You should kiss him again.
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I’m going to be an Astarion apologist on main for a minute, but here’s the thing:
Despite the most common interpretation, Astarion doesn’t disapprove of all good actions and approve of all evil actions. If you try to apply that logic there are a handful of moments where his approval and disapproval makes zero sense.
Take Glutt for example. The evil thing to do would be to agree to help Glutt slaughter the Sovereign, but Astarion approves if you turn down Glutt and kill him—because the alternative forces you to take on the entire myconid colony and be put in unnecessary danger. He usually approves of you going the persuasion/deception route to get out of conflict for the same reason. Despite his gleeful “let’s go hurt someone” line, Astarion’s primary goal is to never fight unless it’s either necessary or easy.
Astarion disapproves when you make decisions that puts him (and the whole party) at risk. He hates when you take on extra dangerous tasks for strangers out of the kindness of your heart, but not because he wants those people to suffer. It’s because he has one goal: survive. Astarion has been in survival mode for 200 years and that goes into hyperdrive with the tadpole. He didn’t come all this way and have his first taste of freedom in centuries to die just because you have a hero complex.
There’s still plenty to judge him and side eye him about for that, but i do think the subtle difference in motivation makes him a much more interesting character than “i like evil and hate helping people.”
turnnoffyourmind
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