#I never was to much into the Battle Tower in any game

[georgescitadel]

George R.R. Martin on the process of creating A Game Of Thrones (1/3)

You hold in your hands the second volume of A Song of Ice and Fire… but not the second volume as originally intended. Although I wrote the opening of A Game of Thrones back in the summer of 1991, as related in my introduction to the Meisha Merlin edition of that volume, it was not until October of 1993 that I drew up a proposal for my agents to take to publishers. There is no mention of any book titled A Clash of Kings in that proposal. In 1993, I was under the impression that I was writing a trilogy.

Trilogies had been the dominant form in epic fantasy ever since J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings had been broken apart by publishers and released in three volumes. And the story that I wanted to tell divided quite naturally into three parts; much more so, in fact, than The Lord of the Rings, which is actually one fairly seamless narrative, and not a trilogy at all. I planned to title the books A Game of Thrones, A Dance with Dragons, and The Winds of Winter. I knew right from the start that they would all be large books. Huge books, even. But there were to be only three of them, and…and none were to be called A Clash of Kings. Sometimes the author is the last to know.

As I write this, I am halfway through the writing of A Feast for Crows, the fourth volume of my ‘trilogy.’ There is no mention of that title in my 1993 proposal either. These days, when pressed, I confidently assert that A Song of Ice and Fire will ultimately run to six books… but behind my back I know my lady Parris is smiling knowingly and holding up seven fingers. She may be right. Though I may dream of six books, plan for six books, work toward six books, the only thing that truly matters is the story. And the story needs to be as long as the story needs to be.

In Hollywood, the suits will tell you how long that is. A television show has to fit within its allotted time slot, of course, and you cannot beg, borrow, or steal an extra minute, no matter how much the story needs it. Running times are somewhat more flexible for films, though not as much as one might think. For the most part, the studios still want movies to run about two hours, so they look for screenplays of 120 pages or less, and demand cuts in any scripts that come in longer. My own screenplays and teleplays were almost always too long and too expensive in first draft, so in my later drafts, along with addressing the inevitable notes from studio, network, and producers, I was constantly trimming. In the end, I would deliver a shooting script that was the right length and under budget, but it was never a happy process… and I often went away feeling that the earlier drafts were the better ones.

The size of A Song of Ice and Fire was in no small part a reaction to ten years of trimming. I wanted to do something epic in scale, something at once grand and sprawling and complex and subtle, with a cast of thousands, huge battles, mighty castles, gorgeous costume, lavish feast, great rivers, towering mountains, vast fields… all the things I could not do in television. In short. I wanted to make a world. And for that you need a bit of room.

In my original proposal, I estimated that each volume of the trilogy might run as long as 800 pages in manuscript. The novels that I had written during the 70's and 80's, before Hollywood, had generally come in at 400 or 500 pages or thereabouts, so an 800 pages book seemed very lengthy indeed. The three books of the trilogy would be structured around the long, slow seasons of Westeros. A Game of Thrones would be summer’s book, A Dance with Dragons would take us through autumn, and The Winds of Winter… well, the title says it all. Even in the Seven Kingdoms, where a season can last for years, 800 pages ought to give me enough room to reach the end of summer and conclude the part of my tale, I reasoned.

‘Twas a lovely plan of battle… but no plan of battle ever survives contact with the enemy, it has been said. Writers know the truth of that as well as any general, though our wars are fought on blank white sheets of paper and empty computer screens. For the map is not the territory, the blueprint is not the house, the recipe is not the dinner… and the outline is never ever the book.

- George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings Limited Edition Introduction (2002)

#Ned Stark #Catelyn Stark #Sansa Stark #Arya Stark #Bran Stark #Jon Snow #Tyrion Lannister #Daenerys Targaryen #The Outline #A Game Of Thrones #George R.R. Martin #ValyrianScrolls #ASOIAF

[midnight197]

This 3 are my favorites of the shinys I own so far! I wish Scarlet and Violet actually had something like the Battle-Tower. I would love to fight with them. Or at least Gym-Leader/Elite4-Rematches. Fighting in the School-Tournament is getting boring after a while ngl x'D

#Pokemon #Pokemon Scarlet #Pokemon Violet #Shiny Pokemon #Driftblim #Weavile #Jumpluff #rambling #I never was to much into the Battle Tower in any game #Mostly because you were able to do a lot of other things in postgame #here you only can do the school tournament and shiny hunt #there's not a lot to do except maybe raids and wifi-battles #but I'm not to interested in these #I hope they add some sort of battle tower or something similar in dlc

[banana-milk-enthusiast]

Was playing some youkai watch 3 today since theres plenty of post game stuff I havent done and apparently Hailey/Inaho's dad can actually come home to his family?! This game always surprses me with lil extra content; like her family was so happy to see him home 😭. Dr. Nocturne sent him back for Inaho so thats super cute 🥺

#yw as a series never fails to impress me with the sheer amount of content and extra events #the whole reason i enjoyed the series more than pokemon was that after the main game is done theres something for me to actually do #with pkmn once the game is done i lose interest quickly cuz outside of legendaries nothing happens and i personally dont enjoy battle tower #outside of contests pkmn cant keep me entertained post game but on the other hand #yw just has tons of seperate post game questlines whether big or small and that excludes rare youkai #not to mention random overworld events occasionally like theres so much to do and the cast and writing is so much fun #sorry didn't mean to rant but the fact that i still pick up my 3ds to play yw games while i haven't touched any pkm game since completion #im still so sad about the ahitry reception it got in NA i really wanted yw4 #youkai watch #yokai watch 3 #yw3 #yokai watch

[kafus]

please let me introduce you to NeverHappy, my most beloved pokemon ever.

i found her as a budew on someone else’s save file after buying a used copy of pokemon platinum. the name “NeverHappy” was a pretty obvious joke about how budew evolves from happiness, and since the previous owner was going to keep her in a box forever, never use her, and never evolve her, she would never be happy. this activated some feral response in my brain and i decided no. she WOULD be happy. i was still replaying through all my old gen 4 games at the time but i traded her off to my other gen 4 files for safekeeping until i could do stuff with her.

oh trust me game. i would.

so you might have thought my plans were to simply evolve her and beat the game with her, get her to level 100, maybe even EV train her - but i had much bigger plans. i was going to ribbon master her. the ribbon master challenge, or the process of “ribbon mastering” a pokemon, is getting every single ribbon possible on a pokemon from the game it was caught in to the most recent game it can be transferred to. if you weren’t aware, that’s a LOT of ribbons. there are 40 in gen 4 alone. i had a lot to do.

(the above clean screenshot was taken by backing up my cartridge save and screenshotting a battle video in emulator. however, i did all of this on my actual DS! i don’t like playing on emulator. not as fun)

i had to beat every contest (normal-master rank in all 5 categories) and do a bunch of other random stuff but my favorite part of the process was defeating the battle tower... 6 times. the battle frontier contains the most challenging battles in gen 4 by far, as opponents have good stats and competitive movesets. there’s 6 battle tower ribbons in gen 4 - two for singles at different points in the win streak, one for doubles, one for multis /w NPCs, one for multis /w another player (i just played with myself on two dses), and one for ranking up in the wi-fi room, which is now accessible again due to fan servers restoring internet functionality for gens 4 and 5.

NeverHappy was randomly caught in the wild and did not have a competitive nature or stats, so i figured that she would just be tagging along in the back while i took out all the win streaks with 2 good pokemon, but she ended up clutching out wins in times of dire need... multiple times. she even ended up being necessary in the wi-fi room to stall out prevalent hacked pokemon like no guard sheer cold machamp, which hits 1 hit KO moves every time, with a gimmicky and convoluted leech seed + substitute strategy.

i could go into all of my team members and the excessive lengths i went to get them all (don’t even get me started on my shiny competitive latias from pokemon emerald) but that’s a story for another day.

by the end of gen 4 i was extremely emotionally attached and she was already becoming one of my favorite pokemon, now with 40 whole ribbons after days and weeks of effort.

i have ribbon mastered pokemon before, so all of my save files in gens 6, 7, and 8 were already set up to transfer neverhappy into and grab all of the ribbons. i had a lot more battling and little tasks ahead of me. it’s really cool how ribbon mastering forces you to interact with pretty much every feature of every pokemon game.

and so i transferred her! gen 5 doesn’t have any ribbons, so it was just an intermediary to transfer into gen 6. at this point, i had also acquired a shiny luxray from pokeradar chaining in platinum named Nightlight, and i was ribbon mastering them together, but once again, a story for another day.

first into gen 6... getting the super training ribbon was really annoying but the battle maison was pretty easy. i had a team in multis with terrakion and a whimsicott with beat up that could 1 hit KO all of the boss battle’s legendaries in one hit LOL

then gen 7... this one went by pretty quickly but i opted to get the best friends ribbon here instead of in XY or ORAS because it was really simple to get with rainbow pokebeans, since all you have to do is max out affection and it only takes a couple rainbow beans to do that in USUM.

and gen 8! you can see nightlight to the left in this picture. by far the hardest part of gen 8 was getting the ribbon awarded for winning a battle in master rank in online VGC against other players. i definitely had to grind that one for a while.

then, she even got an award in BDSP for being a pokemon originating from the original diamond/pearl/platinum games, which was really cool.

oh, and since i had cloned neverhappy back in gen 4 with a glitch so that i would always have a copy of her in her origin games, i was able to take this neat picture! how the times have changed LMAO

luckily she was even a part of PLA’s roster and i was able to take a picture with her there, too... which actually might end up being important since there’s an invisible flag somewhere in the game’s code that gets turned on when you take a picture with your pokemon in the photo studio, which could potentially become a ribbon in the future in another game.

so, trainer Platina from 2016, you were wrong! NeverHappy is in fact happy now and has done more than most people’s pokemon have seen in their entire lifetime. she is my most cherished pokemon and i love her more than i love myself. i think i would die for her

i abbreviated this story a lot because i didn’t want to make this post longer than it already was but i was randomly inspired to talk about this today since SV is coming out soon and there will be more ribbons to collect for any of my ribbon masters that can be transferred into SV, which got me thinking about her. my journey with ribbon mastering has taught me more about pokemon games than any normal person should ever know and if you were interested in any details i left out or how i accomplished certain ribbons (including battle frontier strategies) feel free to shoot me an ask! :D i love talking about pokemon at any time any day of the week.

#pokemon #pokemon platinum #budew #roserade #dppt #long post #kiki was here #probably no one will see this but i was in an infodumping mood ok #kiki.txt #kiki plays games

[cxsmiicc]

fucking florida - emily prentiss x reader

word count - 1950

warnings - smut, eating out, vibe, office sex, alcohol, mommy kink, begging

first em fic so sorry if it sucks

cr @storiesofsvu for the vegas line i read a dangerous game all in one sitting the other night and it was stuck in my brain

------

“Fucking Florida,” you muttered on the way to the coffee machine for your third cup of the night. It was already after twelve and the mountain of paperwork didn’t seem to be getting any smaller. You began the permanent battle to get the ancient machine running and picked out a mug, savouring every second away from the towering files and microscopic print. Almost immediately after the overwhelmingly strong scent whipped through the bullpen a certain unit chief emerged from her office, silver hair dragged back into a haphazard ponytail and top three buttons undone. To say you were obsessed with this woman would be an understatement. Yes, she was your boss and yes, she was majorly off limits, but there was no telling your body that. There was no helping the shiver that ran down your spine when she spoke, the goosebumps that revealed themselves whenever she brushed against you on the jet, the way every little hair on your body would stand on end when she singled you out. In short, you had it bad for Emily Prentiss, with no end in sight.

“Didn’t know anyone else was still here,” she drawled.

“Everyone sane went home hours ago.”

“And who can blame them, look at us. Relying on far too much caffeine just to get us through the paperwork.”

“When in Quantico,” you said with a small smile.

She laughed slightly, picking up the coffee pot and pouring two mugs, “It’s too late for your bad jokes.”

“You’ll have to excuse my lack of comedic genius, I'm exhausted and working on an empty stomach,” you replied, taking one of the mugs from her.

“What! Why?” She asked.

“I’m not a breakfast person to begin with and then with all the chaos this morning and the flight and the paperwork I just haven’t had the time to breathe.”

“I just ordered food, you’re having some of it.”

“Where did you order from this late?” 

She chuckled, “A lady never kisses and tells.”

God you wished she would kiss you. You simply raised an eyebrow and took a sip of your coffee in response.

“It’ll be delivered to my office soon, grab a file and come wait.”

“Exactly what I’ve been craving, yet more blindingly dull reports,” you deadpanned, already heading back to your desk to sweep the top folder into your waiting bag and follow Emily to her office.

Of course you had been in there before, but never so late and never for an extended period of time. It was different, strangely exhilarating, walking through that door and being directed to the low table in the corner, sitting on the carpet and working this closely to another person. The two of you typed in comfortable silence until a knock came and a sheepish college student walked in with a huge brown paper bag.

“Finally, thanks so much,” Emily said to the poor boy, handing him the cash.

“Quick, move the case notes. Just dump them under the table for now.” You did so, pulling them all into a rough pile and quite literally dumping them on the floor under the table. She wasted no time in delving into the enormous bag, pulling out a burger, two boxes of fries and the biggest soda you had ever seen in your life.

“Good job I was hungry,” she joked.

“Fries.” You reached over and snagged a box, grease seeping through the bottom and onto your fingers before you even opened it. “Oh my god that’s good,” you said around a mouthful.

“I have an idea..” She swerved around the table, snatching a fry on the way and walked right out of the room. A minute later she came back in, bottle in hand.

“Rossi’s finest I presume?”

“Only the best for you,” She finished with a devilish grin.

“Glasses?”

“On ne fait que commencer.” And she took a sip straight from the bottle.

Fucking French. You reached over and stole the whisky from her, upending it and barely blinking when the amber liquid hit your throat. 

“Someone has a tragic backstory just waiting to be unlocked.”

“The years of greasy food and crushing loneliness have numbed me to the mundane sensations of everyday life.” 

“Preaching to the choir honey.” She raised the burger to her mouth and took a bite, sighing in content as she did.

The two of you kept eating in not quite silence, the crunching of fries and occasional clinking of the bottle providing the nights soundtrack. Only once all the food had gone and you were both sufficiently tipsy did you come up for air.

“Remind me to tell you I'm starving more often, this is the best time I've had in this building to date.”

“Anything to make some half decent memories in this place, all the bad we see deserves a little alcohol and fast food every now and then.”

“I know something you could do to make this memory more than half decent,” you muttered.

“Oh? Now what, pray tell, could that be?” She feigned confusion and came to sit on your side of the table, resting her head in one hand and looking up at you through her lashes.

“Fuck it.” Both of you leaned in at the same time, lips crashing together and a breathless gasp escaping from you, her hands drifting to your waist and tugging you onto her lap. It was desperate and clumsy and everything you expected it to be, everything you needed it to be. Her tongue pried your lips apart as you explored each others mouths, too desperate for contact to bother with technique. You fumbled with her buttons and she smiled against your mouth, breaking the kiss to pull your shirt over your head and undo the few buttons of her own that you had been unable to access. Breathing hard, you pushed yourself off of her and sat on the table, legs wide and one hand splayed behind you for balance, admiring the view in front of you. Not every day the unit chief of the BAU was shirtless in front of you after all.

Reaching for your belt, she asked, “Can I?”

“God yes.”

She made quick work of both the belt and your jeans, tossing them aside before slowly pulling your underwear all the way down and dropping it, slipping both hands between your thighs and slowly separating them. Lowering her face, she met your eyes and slowly kissed a teasing path from your inner thigh to your clit, stopping just before she made contact. You let out a whimper, already soaked for her.

“Desperate, are we?”

“Less talk more tongue,” You demanded.

Luckily for you, she obliged, wasting no time in wrapping her lips around your clit and sucking hard, dragging a savage groan from the base of your throat. Loosening her hold on your clit, she focused her attention lower down, flicking her tongue briefly in and out before delivering a broad lick to your cunt, finally setting for alternating between the two motions whenever your moans peaked in volume. Bringing her hands into the mix, she drew slow circles around your clit, successfully driving you to the edge as your breathing became faster and faster, the only coherent word coming from your lips being her name over and over in an increasingly high pitch. Her relentless pace never slowed, even as you finally came with a breathy gasp, fucking you through your high.

Dropping back down onto her heels, she smiled at you before reaching behind her back and unclasping her bra, throwing the purple fabric to the corner before grabbing you by the thighs and pulling you back into her lap for another searing kiss, easily parting your lips this time and taking full advantage of your post-orgasmic confusion. The haze clearing somewhat, you became aware enough to dive your hands downwards and play with her chest, flicking her nipples between your fingers and relishing in the soft whimpers falling into your mouth. It was you that pulled away this time, taking one of her breasts into your mouth and swirling your tongue around, eliciting a delicious moan from Emily. You bit down, hard enough to leave a mark, and she let out a squeal of pleasure, pushing you to do more.

Switching your focus to the other side, you repeated the movements, teeth pressing into her soft skin as your tongue worked overtime. Just as she released a particularly loud moan, your fingers forced their way into her waistband and found her clit, jerking it back and forth to the same pace your other hand was setting on the side of her chest not currently in your mouth. She was a mess, to put it nicely, grinding on your hand in a desperate attempt to get herself there. Feeling just how wet she was, you decided to forego any teasing and simply go faster, push her harder, anything to get her over that edge. Twisting your wrist for better access, you pushed both your fingers and tongue to the same brutal speed, stirring raw sounds from the woman above you as she peaked, ruining her formerly perfect suit trousers once and for all. 

Wordlessly, she pushed you off again and crossed to the desk, rummaging in a drawer until she came up with a small silver key. Bending down to where you couldn’t see, she fitted the key in the lock of her bottom drawer and yanked it open, retrieving something without bothering to close the drawer behind her as she walked back towards you, hands behind her back so as not to reveal what she had. The second she was close enough you stood and grabbed her trousers by either hip, meeting her eyes as you removed them. 

“So what is it that you keep locked away in that desk of yours?” You asked.

In response, she smirked and lifted up a bubblegum pink vibrator.

“Let’s see just how many more we can get out of you tonight sweetheart.”

She flipped you around and forced you onto the desk, pushing your legs apart as you whimpered in anticipation. Laughing at your eagerness, she pushed the toy into you, flicking at your clit as she turned it on at the lowest setting and you let out a groan. 

You glared at her. “More.”

“Manners, or mommy won’t do a single thing more. Besides, I bet you look so pretty begging for it.”

Breath hitching at her words, you felt the vibrator slip as you grew wetter, reaching to push it back in only for Emily to grab your wrist. 

“Please…” You muttered.

“I know you can do better than that baby, now come on, tell me what you want.”

“Please mommy please turn it up I need more god just please.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” She trailed off, pausing for a second before pushing the vibrator deeper into you and setting it to max, pulling a guttural gasp from the recesses of your throat.

“That's it princess, let me hear you.”

You held nothing back, letting her tear sounds from you that you didn’t even know you were capable of making for hours until you were both spent, collapsed on the office floor as the first threads of sunlight came through the blinds.

“Fuck Em it’s getting light outside.”

“Shit.”

The room was a blur of motion as both of you hunted for your clothes, her sighing when she saw the state of her trousers and rummaging through her go bag for a fresher pair. 

“Anyone finds out about this and we’re both royally fucked, capisce?”

You beamed at her. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

#s16 emily i cannot #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #cm #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fic

[soapoet]

How do they express jealousy?

requested by anon.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Gives you hell by All-American rejects

You might not expect this person to be as vulnerable and sensitive as they are. They appear very sure of themselves, may even have quite an intimidating presence, and don't let their emotions show externally. Until they are behind closed doors with their trusted allies, that is. When it is safe for them to break, they collapse. Jealousy is a feeling they are well acquainted with, and theirs is a battle between life and death. They hold trust and loyalty in high regard, and any slight against it done on purpose is met with an instantaneous crumbling of the tower where they keep and guard their beloved. They grow suspicious and anxious, and can delude themselves in finding enemies everywhere.

They grow resentful and begin a horrid cycle festering resentment and desperation to not lose their partner. They love you, they hate you, they deserve better, they deserve to suffer. And so it goes, round and round, and the wound is one only time can heal, but the scar will mark them forever. They can forgive, but never forget. Even if disaster is avoided and things go back to normal, the betrayal will forever haunt them and any future hiccup will make them suspicious or immediately be brought back to the past, and they will succumb to the fear of abandonment once more.

Without purposeful attempts to make them jealous, they are still akin a wolf guarding their territory. They keep a watchful eye for any potential threats and hold their partner extra close or go out of their way to showcase their commitment to their partner and their partner's commitment to them, often whilst staring threats dead in the eyes as an intimidation tactic and a way to silently yell "back off". I would sincerely advise everyone to never play games with their partners, but especially this one, as they've known the pain of neglect and betrayal closely throughout their life, and have unhealed wounds all across their aching heart and the damage you could do would never again heal and the commitment would bleed out to its inevitable end without mercy.

02.

Shufflemancy: Lost on you by LP

This person has a rather straightforward relationship with jealousy. Though they do not easily fall prey to it, if caught, they tend to spiral into a desperate act of self-improvement. Convinced that their tinge of jealousy is evidence of lack in them, they raise the standards they hold for themselves to even greater heights. Tunnel vision keeps them from seeing anything clearly and they hyper focus on their attempts to measure up to the perceived bar suddenly raised out of their reach. Because to them, jealousy so easily means they are not good enough, and as somebody already at war with perfection, they do not take it lightly.

Whether their jealousy is triggered on purpose or arise naturally, they instantly find themselves at a crossroads, and must choose which way to go. The strict duality of their mind in these situations keeps them from seeing the path which lies between the two, and they only debate between proving their worth or accepting defeat, wiping their tears as they take the road which strays from the one aligned with their partner.

They can appear quite cold when they simply choose to give up, as though the river of love suddenly runs dry and they decide that it, to them, is objectively the best to cut you or them loose when the two of you are hanging off a cliff and either one of you must let go. Even if they are upset they remain calm on the surface and do what they think is right. Behind them may lie many shipwrecks they abandoned when the leak appeared much too difficult to mend.

03.

Shufflemancy: Sinner by Trevi Moran

Oh boy. They will not openly admit to jealousy, but will meticulously eradicate any threat as though they're pest control. Few things get under their skin as they are at least outwardly very secure in their own self-worth and simply dish out stupid prizes to those who dare play stupid games. For some, however, I must say that they may actually hold themselves in this high regard and play the role of somebody big and strong as a ruse because they deeply fear the fall from their throne.

They could easily flip the script or rewrite it on the spot, altering the play in their favour. When slighted they quickly make sure the whole audience gets on their side and point and laugh at whoever triggered jealousy in them, now the villain of the tale they get to tell. Depending on how delicate the situation is they may instead move in the shadows and whisper in enough ears and shake enough hands to assure the eventual downfall and demise of whoever dared challenge them and their partnership.

I won't lie, for some of you I'd advise that you err on the side of caution because this can easily become toxic. They're very protective and may worship you and keep you safe from the wolves, but some can easily slip into maddening possessiveness, which is unhealthy. Their jealousy, although kept under lock and key, shows itself in a very cold, unaffected way which can be quite jarring to witness as their eyes feel hallow and suddenly speak to you as though you're a complete stranger. The worst of them may very well have angry outbursts when pushed too far and I hope you know you deserve better than that.

04.

Shufflemancy: Fred Astaire by Ghost the jukebox

This sure is somebody you may even feel outright compelled to attempt to make jealous, because they appear so unbothered and nonchalant as though they have no care in the world. And that is the truth of the matter, because from their perspective you are either commited to them, or you're not. They trust their partner to not play with them or allow any advances from others, and if that trust is broken then c'est la vie.

For some, this apparent lack of jealousy altogether can mean that they are open to non-monogamy, whether or not they themselves are interested in opening the relationship for their own sake. As an example, they could be open to their partner seeking fulfillment of needs they cannot tend to themselves. They are a good communicator and live by and follow whichever boundaries and rules have been set in their relationship and may be open to change should their partner have any suggestions. I wouldn't really fear unfaithfulness with this person solely due to how easy-going yet frank and honest they are.

If anything, instead of jealousy this person could quite literally suggest you chat somebody up, and their inquiries about other people some would be concerned about seem genuinely curious and are without malice or suspicion. They're trusting, though some of their loved ones may call them naive and wonder when the day will come that they get hurt as they don't quite understand this person's simple views. It's reminiscent of the time Aladdin said "do you trust me?" because to this person you or they either do or don't and that's that.

05.

Shufflemancy: Style by Taylor Swift

This person seems to have very little to worry about and seem sure in their own worth. So much so, in fact, that they may use jealousy as fuel for passion. They could feel excited and amused by jealousy as though it is a challenge for them demanding they rise to the occasion and prove just how worthy they are and claim their partner as theirs time and time again so that they may never stray.

They tread cautiously the fine line between playful and damaging, pushing the envelope in search of the sweet spot that triggers just enough anger to provide some friction. One need not worry much of their true intentions as there appears to be a permanent glint in their eyes full of lighthearted mischief as they simply desire for you as their partner to show them that desire earnestly, just the same as they do for you when you too decide to play little games to see the chemical reaction which follows.

It really does take outright betrayal for them to reach damaging levels of jealousy, at which point they don't go out quietly and make sure their feelings are known. Just to be sure the two of you are simply playing, they may inquire more candidly about the people around you or openly question their intentions, as though they are so very playful and appreciate the fun and games they are also a little territorial and need it known by all that the two of you are spoken for.

06.

Shufflemancy: Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo

Easily distraught, this person sinks fast and deep to the very bottom of the depths of agony when they feel jealous. They struggle with their worth and have an intense fear of abandonment which leads them down dark paths in their mind as they begin a search of how or why they do or do not deserve love and commitment. There in the depths of their undoing they easily come to find that rock bottom has a basement, which they crawl into to hide away in the assumption that what is theirs will be taken away and if what is theirs is going at their own accord they must then be flawed and wholly unworthy after all.

Their primary means of showing their jealousy is withdrawal, as they have trouble voicing these vulnerable feelings or may simply not know the right words to use to express themselves clearly. They may even fear that expressing jealousy will only make matters worse or invite retaliation of some kind, and thus say nothing at all, which invites resentment to fester.

Jealousy mortally wounds them, and I'd never encourage anybody to play games with people to begin with, but certainly not somebody so frail and fearful. This is somebody who would step in front of bullets for their loved ones, so any chance that those same people, and especially you, their partner, would in essence be the one to pull the trigger would truly destroy them.

#pac reading #energy reading #intuitive reading #tarot reading #love pac #pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarotblr #soapy.post

[winxanity-ii]

𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏

╚»★«╝ 𝐇𝐱𝐇 𝐌𝐞𝐧: 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐚 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐚!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╚»★«╝

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: angst/fuff-ish

‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌: non-explicit

🇵‌🇴‌🇻‌: 2nd person; You/Your

🇩‌🇪‌🇸‌🇨‌🇷‌🇮‌🇵‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌: in which, fate hears your prayers of hurt and pain and you're saved in more ways than one.

🇼‌🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌: 4.6k

🇦‌/🇳‌‌: Lololo I lowkey wandere how long it was gonn a be before i pop out with a HxH one-shot.

★·.·´🇭‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ × 🇭‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You're a shadow among shadows in the 247th Hunter Exam, another face in the crowd, but with a secret that sets you apart.

Behind the dark glasses you wear lies a secret—your eyes, usually a simple shade of brown, transform into a deep, vivid crimson when your emotions surge. This striking change is a remnant of your Kurta heritage, a beautiful yet haunting reminder of a past steeped in tragedy. You're a lone survivor, the massacre by the Phantom Troupe a scar that never fades.

You've learned to hide your eyes not only to blend in but to shield yourself from unwanted attention. The fluctuation in color from brown to red is a giveaway of your emotional state, a vulnerability you can't afford in situations that demand composure. These glasses are your armor, concealing the turmoil within and helping you maintain an air of normalcy amidst the chaos of the exam.

You watch them from a distance. There's the boy with the innocent face and spiky black hair—he exudes an unmistakable aura of purity. Beside him, a silver-haired kid, his demeanor screams 'trouble', but there's a hint of loyalty in his eyes. A tall guy in a suit, barking louder than his bite, is impossible to miss.

And then, there's him—one who unknowingly mirrors a part of your hidden past.

You don't know his name yet, but he's different. He has hair like sunlit gold and eyes of a striking gray, eyes that don't miss much. He moves with a certain calculated precision, every step, every gesture steeped in purpose.

You feel an inexcusable urge to go over and make friends with the group, but you don't. Sadly, you've learned the hard way—trust is a luxury, and solitude is your best friend. So, you watch and listen from a distance, absorbing fragments of their conversations as much as you could—their dreams, their fears, their determination to win. Despite the bustling environment of the exam, you're like a ghost—always there, unseen, unheard, yet moving through the exam with a silent vow to keep your identity and your pain securely locked away.

☆

☆

In the suffocating confines of Trick Tower, you're caught in a psychological battle, the air thick with tension. Your adversary is no ordinary opponent; he's a prisoner, his smile not just cruel but dripping with wicked intent. The game's rules are simple, yet twisted in their own way: he has five minutes to provoke you into attacking him. The rule is clear—the quicker you lose your cool, the more hours you'll owe. If you somehow manage to withstand the full five minutes without lashing out, you'll escape any penalty. But this guy knows exactly how to push your buttons.

At the start, his insults are mere jabs, testing your defenses...

"Look at you, trying to act all tough." he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. "Why so quiet? Afraid you'll break a nail, sweetheart?

...however, as the clock ticks, his words turn increasingly vile and misogynistic....

"Aren't you going to entertain me? Don't be shy. Come over here so I can show you what a real man is."

You feel a twitch in your jaw, your calm facade beginning to crack. You scoff as you lift your head in defiance, your glasses slip, revealing a flash of crimson. It's only a moment, but he catches it.

He falls silent, and for a moment, you think he's done. But then, slowly, almost thoughtfully, he speaks again. "Never thought I'd see the famed Kurta fire in person," he says, a twisted awe in his voice. "Bet the Phantom Troupe had a field day with your kind getting those." His words crawl under your skin, each syllable laced with malice.

The timer hits around 5 minutes and 30 seconds when he crosses the final line. "Man, I should've bought a pair off the Phantom Troupe before landing in here. Would've made a nice trinket to gaze at and pass time," he smirks.

That's the last straw.

Your restraint shatters. You're on him before you know it, driven by a surge of raw, unbridled fury. Your fists are relentless, each strike a release of years of pent-up anger and grief. The world turns a shade of red, both from your eyes and your rage.

As the guards pull you off, his laughter turns into a painful gasp, a sound that echoes in your mind long after. "You lose," he chokes out, his twisted grin the last thing you see before he passes out.

Your short victory is hollow as you're given a swift verdict by the Tower Guard for losing he game—a penalty of ten lost hours, ten hours of isolation. Forced into isolation, you find yourself in a room shared with the very individuals you've been silently observing.

It's a bizarre twist of fate.

You learn their names in snippets of conversation. Gon, with his boundless energy. Killua, always cool and collected. Leorio, loud and passionate. And Kurapika, his voice a soft, determined thread in the tapestry of their chatter.

Oh, and this weird fat guy named Tonpa, as well.

The room feels smaller with their presence. You curl up on the other side of the room, a silent, watchful presence. Your body aches from the fight, your heart heavy with the weight of your past. As sleep tugs at your consciousness, you drift off, missing Kurapika's confession about his own quest for revenge, his own clan's tragedy.

Coming to, you're gently roused by Gon's voice, tinged with his usual cheerfulness. "Hey, your time's almost up!" he informs you. Gratefully, you murmur a soft "thanks" and sit up, stretching out the stiffness in your muscles.

Your gaze drifts across the room, taking in the scene. Killua is by himself, idly fiddling with Gon's fishing line, lost in thought. Leorio and Tonpa are sprawled on a sofa, an amusing picture with their feet comically entangled in each other's faces. Kurapika sits in quiet repose, absorbed in a book.

As your eyes linger on Kurapika, he seems to sense it, lifting his gaze from the pages to meet yours. Despite your shades, his piercing look makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. Quickly, you shift your gaze away.

Turning to your side, you notice Gon still sitting beside you, a slight blush on his cheeks. "Sorry," he begins hesitantly, "I was just wondering... why do you always wear those shades?" His finger points innocently at your glasses.

You reflexively reach up to your shades, ensuring they're in place, covering your revealing eyes. With a reassuring smile, you answer, "I have sensitive eyes. The shades help protect them from bright lights."

Gon's response is full of childlike wonder. "Like vampires?" he asks, his eyes wide.

Your laughter is soft, a rare sound amidst the tension of the Hunter Exam. "Yeah, kind of like vampires," you agree, amused by his analogy.

As you're chuckling, the Tower God's announcement interrupts, declaring the end of your penalty. Standing up, you gather your things, including a hoodie draped over a chair. You nod to Gon in appreciation. "Thank you... Gon, right?"

"Yup! My name's Gon! What's yours?" he asks with an infectious enthusiasm.

"Y/N," you reply with a smile. "Thanks again, Gon. Hope to see you in the next phase."

Gon's giggle rings out as you pat his head gently. "You too, Y/N!" he replies, still chuckling.

As you step out of the room, leaving behind the peculiar mix of companions, a sense of readiness fills you. The next phase of the Hunter Exam awaits, and with it, new challenges and opportunities. But for now, the brief interaction with Gon leaves a small, warm glow in your heart amidst the trials ahead.

☆

☆

Sweat trickled down the side of your face as you raced through the dense underbrush of the forest.

C'mon Y/N! You got this! Phase 4! You've come so far! You kept repeating the mantra in your head, pushing yourself harder.

Phase 4 of the Hunter Exam, taking place on Zevil Island, was unlike any challenge you had faced before. Each participant was assigned a target, their badge the key to progressing further. Your assigned target: number 405.

Gon.

As soon as you saw the number, recognition flooded you. The thought of hunting down the boy and taking his badge didn't sit right with you. Besides, you knew better than to underestimate the solidarity of his group. So, you chose the alternative route—gathering three badges to compensate for not pursuing Gon's.

So far, you had managed to collect two other badges. But your success had drawn unwanted attention. A mercenary, furious that you had inadvertently taken his target, was now hot on your heels, seeking both vengeance and the badges you carried.

You pushed through the forest, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. The sounds of the island were a distant blur, the rustle of leaves and distant animal calls fading behind the adrenaline-fueled pounding of your heart. You had to lose him, had to be smart. This wasn't just about survival in the exam anymore—it was about surviving period.

You glanced back, catching a fleeting glimpse of your pursuer weaving through the trees. His determination matched your own, but for vastly different reasons. With a deep breath, you surged forward, your mind racing as fast as your feet. You needed a plan, and you needed it fast. The stakes were high, and failure wasn't an option.

Your legs burned with exertion, each step more labored than the last. Realizing that running wasn't a sustainable option, you made a split-second decision. It was time to face your pursuer head-on. The alternative—constantly looking over your shoulder for the next three days—was a prospect filled with dread and uncertainty.

You veered off the path, heading towards an open field nearby. There, you turned to face the direction you had come from, your breathing heavy, but determined. This was it—a confrontation was inevitable.

Moments later, the mercenary emerged from the break in the trees, his approach confident, almost cocky. He sauntered into the clearing, a sly grin plastered on his face, clearly thinking he had the upper hand.

As he stepped into the open, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the field, creating an almost surreal backdrop for the impending battle. The air was still, the usual sounds of the forest seemingly holding their breath in anticipation.

You stood your ground, eyes fixed on the mercenary. Your hand instinctively reached for your weapon, gripping it tightly. The tension was palpable, a tangible force in the air between you two.

"You think you can take me?" the mercenary taunted, his voice a low hum in the heavy air. "A nobody thinks they can best me for a badge?"

"I don't think," you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of nerves inside you. "I know."

The battle commenced without another word. The forest became an arena, the trees pillars in the hall of combat. As you weave through the forest, the battle intensifies. The mercenary's knives are more than mere steel; they're extensions of his will, each strike aimed with deadly intent. You can almost feel the air parting as they whistle past, a mere hair's breadth from your skin.

"Can't touch me," you taunt under your breath, your voice a mix of bravado and focus. Your feet barely touch the ground as you dodge, pivot, and retaliate with a series of calculated blows and kicks.

The forest, with its towering trees and dappled sunlight, transforms into a blur around you. You're in the eye of the storm, where every breath is measured, every movement a dance with destiny. The mercenary lunges, and you hear the sharp intake of breath, the rustle of leaves underfoot—a symphony of survival.

Suddenly, pain sears through your shoulder, a sharp, hot line where his knife finds its mark. "Gotcha," he hisses, a shadowy figure with a smirk that chills your blood.

You grit your teeth, feeling the warm trickle of blood, a stark reminder of your mortality. You're a whirlwind of motion, each step an intricate part of this deadly dance, but the mercenary is a step ahead, his knives a blur of silver and shadow. You hear the slicing of air, feel the sting as one blade after another grazes your skin, leaving behind a trail of shallow cuts; blood beading on your arm creating a vivid contrast against your skin.

"I'm impressed," he taunts, his voice a low rumble in the chaos. "But not enough."

You dodge another swipe, the air humming with the missed connection. It's a relentless assault, and you're pushed to your limits, each movement driven by sheer willpower. The forest around you is both arena and witness, the rustling leaves a hushed audience to your struggle.

Then, a sharp pain seizes your side—a knife, lodged deep. You gasp, the shock almost buckling your knees. Your vision begins to blur, edges fringing with black. You hear your breathing, ragged and wet, each inhale tainted with the metallic tang of blood. It's like drowning on dry land, the taste of iron filling your mouth, a stark reminder of the blood you're losing. Your head spins, the forest around you swaying in a nauseating dance.

The mercenary looms closer, a shadow preying on your weakened state. "Looks like I got you, again~" he smirks, already reaching for another blade to finish the job.

The pain is intense, a burning fire in your side...but in this moment of despair, something within you stirs. A distant echo, the cries and shouts of your clan, resonating through the haze of pain. Their voices, filled with courage and defiance in their final stand against the Phantom Troupe, ignite a fire in your soul. It's a call to arms, a call to honor their memory.

You shake your head, clearing the fog of pain and despair. Your heart pounds in your chest, a drumbeat of survival. "For my clan," you whisper, the words a lifeline pulling you back from the edge of defeat.

Time seems to slow, each second stretching out as you summon the last reserves of your strength. With a deep, shuddering breath, you focus. The pain is still there, a constant companion, but now it fuels your resolve. You grip the hilt of the knife in your side, a grim determination setting in your features. With a swift, decisive motion, you pull it out, ignoring the fresh wave of pain that threatens to overwhelm you.

The mercenary pauses as his eyes widen, a flicker of surprise at your unwavering spirit. You can see the calculation in his gaze, the reassessment of his prey. But you don't afford him the luxury of time. With the last of your strength, you launch forward, using his momentary hesitation. Your movements are a blend of instinct and desperation, a final stand against the inevitable as you channel your pain into action

There's a clash of steel, a grunt of effort. The mercenary staggers back, his knife clattering to the ground. You stand there, breathing heavily, the pain in your side a constant throb, but you're still standing.

"You're... not bad," he concedes, a grudging respect in his voice as he eyes you warily, reassessing you at a closer distance as he tries to puts a few feet between the two of you.

You don't have time for words. You're wounded, every breath a battle, but this fight is yours. With a last effort, before he can gather his bearing and attack you once more, you advance, your own blade steady in your grip. The forest holds its breath, the final act about to unfold.

In a blur, you twist, your foot sweeping out in a calculated arc, knocking his legs from under him. The world tilts as you both crash to the forest floor. With a desperate, precise thrust, you drive your blade into the side of his neck.

The mercenary lets out a choked laugh, a grotesque symphony of pain and disbelief, as blood blooms from the wound and stains his lips. "Good luck, doll. You're gonna need it," he gasps, his voice a gurgling whisper.

Stiffly, you snatch his badge off of his shirt before staggering back, your legs shaky and unreliable. The forest spins around you, trees blurring into indistinct shapes as you bump into them, each impact a jolt of pain. Your vision dims, the edges closing in, a tunnel of darkness encroaching as blood loss takes its toll.

You push forward, each step a battle against the relentless pull of your injuries. The forest, once a vibrant tapestry of green and gold, now seems muted, the colors fading as your strength wanes. Your breathing is ragged, a harsh symphony punctuated by the throb of your wounded side. You can taste blood in your mouth, the iron tang a stark reminder of the price you've paid.

The ground beneath your feet feels unsteady, as if you're walking through a dream. You lean against a tree, its bark rough under your palm, seeking a moment's respite. The texture under your palm is a reminder of that you're still here, despite the overwhelming pain that roars in your ear. You close your tightly eyes, willing yourself to stay conscious, to keep moving.

In the haze of exhaustion, your mind drifts, not to the pain or the blood you've shed, but to the deeper meaning of your struggle. You realize—even in this weakened state—that your victory extends beyond the physical realm. You've honored your heritage, upheld the values and legacy of your clan. Their voices, which once echoed faintly in the recesses of your memory, now resound within you, clear and strong, filling you with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

And in this quiet moment, if you focus just enough, you can almost sense the presence of your parents. It's as if their voices whisper in the wind—congratulating you—their words a soothing balm to your battered spirit. You imagine the warmth of their hands enveloping you in an embrace of love and approval. Their presence, though intangible, is a vivid sensation that momentarily lessens the physical pain, filling you with a sense of peace and the strength to persevere.

You reach into your pockets to fetch the source of your physical pain—those stupid badges. And since your recent victory with the mercenary, you know had all the points needed to succeed to the next phase.

"...you're gonna need it..." The mercenary's last words rings in your ears, haunting you; a prophecy or a curse, you can't tell.

You clutched the badges like a lifeline as your vision blurred, the edges darkening, and in that encroaching shadow, you saw him—Kurapika.

At first, you thought he was a figment of your imagination, but his gasp cut through the silence of the forest, a soft but sharp intake of breath that seemed to pierce the veil of your pain.

"Your eyes..." Kurapika's voice was a thread of sound, woven with shock and a dawning realization as he approached cautiously, his footsteps barely a whisper on the forest floor. "...Kurta?" Kurapika murmured, the word laced with uncertainty and disbelief.

As your eyes met his, a visible change overtook him. His gaze intensified, the hue of his eyes deepening into a vivid red, mirroring the tumult of emotions within as he recognized the truth before him.

Your state was dire, a vivid canvas of your recent battle. Blood was smeared across the side of your face, stark against your skin, and your eyes were unfocused, hazy with pain and the effort to remain conscious. Kurapika's steps faltered, a mix of shock and concern etching his features as he kneeled beside you.

You couldn't help but look into his eyes—praying that your mind wasn't playing tricks on you. And there you saw it, a reflection of your own—a crimson shade that told a story of loss and of a lineage almost erased from the world. The sight of his crimson eyes ignited a glimmer of hope within you. You weren't alone; another Kurta still walked this earth.

His hands hovered over your broken form, trembling slightly, betraying his inner turmoil. He was mumbling, words lost in a stream of consciousness, as if he were trying to piece together the reality before him.

You attempted to speak—to express your happiness—but the effort was too much. Blood trickled from the corner of your lips, and a pained sigh escaped you as you tried to shift away from your injured side. Kurapika's reaction was immediate, a soft, soothing coo escaping him. "It's okay, don't push yourself; you don't have to saying anything. I'm here," he reassured, his voice a calming presence in the chaos of your agony.

But the darkness was calling, an embrace that promised respite from the pain. You leaned into it, even as Kurapika's voice became the anchor trying to hold you in the light. "No more worries," he whispered, his hands warm against the cool touch of your skin. "You'll be safe with me."

With the last of you strength, you whispered a faint, "...okay..." before falling unconscious.

As the shadows embraced you, Kurapika's world became a whirlwind of emotion, and you slipped into unconsciousness, cradled in his arms. His hands, now protectors, held you close, your head against his chest. His fingers grazed your skin, feeling the rise and fall of your labored breaths, his touch a silent vow against the dark.

"No, not again," he murmured to himself, a haunted lullaby for two souls intertwined by fate and tragedy. His arms tightened around you, as if his embrace alone could shield you from the world's cruelty. "I can't... I won't let it happen again."

The memory of his clan—of crimson eyes dimmed forever—flashed in his mind, an echo of the past threatening to repeat itself. He rocked gently, a motion born from an instinct to comfort, to soothe, even as his own heart screamed in anguish.

In the quiet forest, he leaned back and beheld your face—brown skin illuminated by the moon's touch, your hair a soft crown of twisted locks framing your peaceful expression. His fingertips traced the contours of your face with reverence, a silent apology to every moment he had unknowingly left you alone in a world that had taken so much from both of you.

"You're here," he whispered, more to himself than to you, a prayer in the solitude. "You're alive, and as long as I breathe, I will fight for you... with you. I will not let this light go out."

Kurapika's breath was a warm whisper against your skin as he nosed the side of your face. His hands, trembling with an intensity born of fear and love, cupped your cheek gently, as his eyes fluttered closed, savoring a fleeting moment of bliss amid the chaos.

A rustle in the underbrush broke the stillness, and Leorio's voice cut through the quiet. "Kurapika? What happened? Are you—"

His words hung unfinished as he stumbled into the clearing, his eyes landing on the two of you. Kurapika's head snapped up, his eyes glowing fiercely, a reflection of the turmoil within.

"Kurapika, your eyes..." Leorio's voice was thick with concern and confusion.

"They are the eyes of my clan," Kurapika stated, the flames in his eyes not dimming but burning brighter with resolve. "And she shares them. She shares my pain, my burden. She is Kurta, and I will not fail her as I failed... the others."

Leorio stepped forward, his intentions clear and his resolve unshakable. "We'll help her, Kurapika. We're going to get through this. Together," he stated firmly, ready to extend his hand and offer his strength.

But Kurapika's reaction was immediate and sharp, a sudden tension seizing his body. "No," he said quickly, almost vehemently, his voice low and possessive. "She's mine to protect. She's a Kurta—my responsibility." His words cut through the air, a clear boundary drawn in the wake of Leorio's offer.

Leorio halted, confusion etching his features as he assessed his friend's guarded posture and the fierce, protective glare that seemed out of place on Kurapika's usually composed face.

"Kurapika, we're all friends here," Leorio tried to reason, his concern growing with each passing second. "We want to help—"

"No, Leorio!" Kurapika's interruption was firm, brooking no argument. "She's not just anyone. Our pain is shared, our past... our vengeance." His arms instinctively tightened around you, his movements a physical manifestation of his unspoken vow to protect you.

Leorio's brow furrowed, the weight of Kurapika's isolation dawning on him. Yet, he understood the unspoken language of trauma that seemed to emanate from Kurapika's every pore.

There was a silent promise exchanged in the look that passed between them, a pact made under the witness of stars and stillness. With a slow nod, he stepped back, giving space and respect to the silent plea for solitude and stewardship that Kurapika was asserting.

"We'll be here... when you're ready," Leorio conceded, offering support in his retreat, an acknowledgment of Kurapika's unyielding will to be the shield, the keeper of the last of his clan.

In the quiet that followed, Kurapika's gaze softened as he looked down at you, his demeanor shifting from defensive to tender. "I will keep you safe," he whispered, as if the words were a talisman against the world. "You are mine to defend, and I will lay down my life before I see this light extinguished."

He gently cupped the back of your head, drawing you in closer, until your head nestled securely beneath his chin. The side of his chin acted as a shield, a subtle yet powerful barrier, symbolizing his determination to guard you against any harm.

He would keep you safe, no matter what storms may come, for in you, he had found a piece of hope—a precious echo of a home lost to whispers and to time.

🙈🙈hehehe just me being delusional as usual, carry on

#hunterxhunter x reader #hunter x hunter #leorio #hxh x reader #hxh 2011 #hxh killua #kurapika kurta #kurapika #kurapika hxh #kurapika hunter x hunter #kurapika headcanons #kurapika x reader #kurta reader x kurapika #hxh #hxh gon #hxh kurapika #hxh leorio #yandere kurapika #yandereish #‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-kurapika kurta

[crossdressingdeath]

The Warden's story is basically about someone who is supposed to die and refuses to do so. They should die in their origin, but Duncan saves them. They should be killed by the Joining, but they survive. They should die at the Tower of Ishal, but Flemeth saves them. And if you take Morrigan's offer the main game ends with them looking at this situation that everything the Wardens know says should be absolutely, 100% fatal under any and all circumstances and saying "This is not going to kill me".

The Wardens as an organization have a whole thing about heroic sacrifice, giving their lives for the cause and all, to the point where every single Warden who lasts the full thirty years the Joining gives them is expected to end their lives with a suicide by darkspawn. The idea that their deaths should always be a sacrifice is in their motto. It's never put in the same frank terms as the Legion of the Dead, but in a way the Wardens are also a group that is "already dead"; their fate is sealed, whether they die immediately from the Joining, thirty years on from the taint, or somewhere in between in battle they are doomed. So it's interesting that our introduction to the Wardens is a character who depending on choices can just refuse to accept the inevitability of their own death. And it gets even better in Awakening, because the Warden can choose to sacrifice Amaranthine rather than leave their Wardens to die. The "correct" decision for a Warden would absolutely be to save the city! If the Amaranthine Wardens died so the city could be saved, that would be "right"! But the Warden can say "No, my Wardens are not expendable". That is very much not the choice a "good" Warden should make, but the Warden can do it!

I don't know, there's just something so good about the way a Warden who chooses not to sacrifice themselves to slay the Archdemon looks at the obsession with heroic sacrifice that permeates the Wardens as an organization and just refuses to be a part of it to the point where by Inquisition their goal is to ensure that no Warden needs to go on the Calling ever again, and I really hope that DA4 confirms that they succeed.

#dragon age origins #hero of ferelden #i should replay dao honestly

[lucrezianoin]

Wyll and Astarion banter (2/2)

Collection of banter between Wyll and Astarion (you can find part 1 here). In case I will add more in the future I will use the tag "wyllstarion banter".

This one has a lot of dialogues I literally never heard of, so I wonder if some of them are not in game anymore (tho they are act 3 specific).

Astarion: I hardly saw you at the party. Did the honest and true Blade sneak off for a little fun? Wyll: No! Nothing like that at all. Astarion: Oh, but you protest too much. Now I know you were practicing your swordplay.

---

Wyll: Ah - the memories. The Blushing Mermaid's where fifteen-year-old Wyll snuck his first kiss. Astarion: You didn't kiss anyone until you were fifteen? Gods, what a tragic, sheltered life... Wyll: Sheltered? Not at all. I was exposed to all manner of riot and revelry. Hells, my father even urged me on once or twice. But I've always been a bit old-fashioned on these matters. I find more pleasure in a courtly dance than a loveless fling.

---

Astarion: I lived two centuries in this city, but it can still surprise me. Wyll: Baldur's Gate harbours many a secret. Even the longest-lived explorers have yet to uncover them all. Speaking of - what were you getting up to all those years? Astarion: Let's not get into details. If Baldur's Gate can have its secrets, so can I.

---

Wyll: Astarion, I was wrong about you. Truly wrong about you. Astarion: Let me guess - you thought I'd suck blood, but actually I just suck? Was that your witty jab? (devnote: a little tired of Wyll's bullshit) Wyll: No, I mean it. There's little between us we share. But you've fallen in love and stood by your lover. That is something this dreamer's heart can appreciate.

(this is a spawn astarion romanced dialogue)

---

(more under cut)

Astarion: Well, it's no Baldur's Gate, but at least it's some kind of civilisation. Wyll: I do miss the Gate, though. The Elfsong Tavern! Sunset over Grey Harbour! Fried fish at the docks! Astarion: Drunk young patriars, naked in the fountains! Ah, civilisation... (note: whistfully)

---

Wyll: Finally, we're approaching Moonrise Towers. Astarion: Nothing escapes the Blade of Frontiers' keen senses, I see. Wyll: Mock me all you want, Astarion. We could use a little comic relief. Astarion: Yes, that's why I'm mocking you - to keep our spirits up. No other reason...

---

Astarion: You know, I've never seen this place in the daylight before. Wyll: I always loved this park. Spent a lot of time here as a boy battling imaginary monsters. Astarion: Oh, I was going to say it looks wretched. The dark hid all the kitschy details.

---

Wyll: Astarion, I just want to say - I judged you wrongly. I'm sorry. Astarion: Really? And how - specifically - have you misjudged my fine character? Wyll: You aren't actually insufferably randy. You're just insufferable.

---

Astarion: Marriage, Wyll? I thought you'd have learned not to get trapped by devious contracts. Wyll: I was planning to invite you to the ceremony, but I'm having second thoughts. Astarion: I'd love to come! As long as I can sit with someone fun. Mizora, perhaps?

---

Wyll: I'd watch yourself, my friend. I don't know if our pale rogue has anything good in his heart, or even a scrap of it left for you. Astarion: Excuse me? That's just mean - we're all adults here. Wyll: Your heart's cold as ice, Astarion. I'm just making sure no one slips and gets hurt.

---

Wyll: As much love as I hold for Baldur's Gate, these frontiers delight me as much as any bustling street. Astarion: You can't be serious? This is a howling wasteland! I haven't even had a bath since the abduction. I must reek of ilithid slime. Wyll: Sure, but think of the stories you'll be able to tell.

---

Shadowheart: So. A vampire spawn and a monster hunter in the same group. We're not going to have trouble, are we? Astarion: Excuse me? Since this tadpole, I'm barely a monster at all. I just want to survive, same as you. Wyll: I don't see a problem, as long as mister fang there keeps his appetite in check.

---

Astarion: A question for our master monster hunter: how would you approach killing a vampire? Wyll (he knows Astarion is a vampire): A full-on vamp, you mean? Lure it into the sun, drive a stake through its heart. And that's not the end of it. The suckers are wily. No offence. Astarion: None taken. Wiliness keeps me alive. More or less.

Wyll (he doesn't know Astarion is a vampire): To start? Lure it into the sun, drive a stake through its heart. Why? Astarion: Just curious.

---

(this is about the Moonrise Oubliette)

Astarion: Admittedly, I don't care for most people, but this is a terrible waste. (note: referring to all the wasted blood) Wyll: Because their lives were cut brutally short, you mean. Astarion: I - ... yes, that. That's clearly what I was referring to. (note: pretending he wasn't referring to all the wasted blood)

#wyllstarion #bloodpact #wyll ravengard #wyll #astarion #wyllstarion banter

[short-honey-badger]

Shore Leave

Summary! Captain Lasky orders the Master Chief a two week shore leave. Overwhelmed by his lack of armor and unused to the flow of civilian traffic, he parks himself on a bench and meets you.

Pairings! Master Chief x Reader

Set after the events of Halo 4 and influenced from my love of the game and how good season 2 of the TV series. I wanted to try my hand at something new. I hope you enjoy.

Part 2 -> HERE Part 3 -> HERE

Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra 117, or John to his friends - the few he had left, cautiously strode through the throngs of civilians. Captain Lasky had ordered him a full two weeks shore leave, no combat, no weapon, no MJOLNIR. Lasky had suggested he take some time to himself, grieve if he needed to after fighting for so long with little reprieve in between battles. To be honest, John wasn't sure what he should do with his time. Despite being one of the last of the original Spartans, the chief had hardly ever been completely alone.

Cortana. She'd always been there, a soft hum in the back of his mind, and John wasn't proud enough to admit that he felt a little lost without her.

Even though the armorless spartan towered above the crowd, he began to feel surrounded, overwhelmed with how densely packed the city was. He wasn't used to being out of his armor, and it made him feel naked, vulnerable in a way that John didn't like. Luckily, he spotted a bench not too much farther away, situated at the beginning of what looked like a small park. John sat heavily, back straight and blue eyes casting around as he took deep breaths to regulate his breathing.

No one bothered him, and John took the time to watch the hoards of civilians go to and fro. He watched couples hold hands, and families carefully guide their children along the sidewalks, each man and woman heading to whatever their destination may be. After a while, and now that John had been able to relax a little, he realized that he enjoyed watching the flow and allowed his mind to wander.

Could he ever have something like this? Such a mundane and easy life, never worrying if the next battle he faced would be his last. If he would ever see his brothers and sisters again? Would he ever live such a simple existence where his only fear is missing the train? The Master Chief doesn't think that he could, not when so much of himself has been lost to war and death. Not when it was his duty to protect the civilians here so that they could have that life.

“Sir, you've been sitting here a while now. Can I help you with anything?”

John is brought out of his thoughts by the soft voice. He turns his head and sees that you have somehow snuck up on him, and he silently berates himself for not noticing. However, you had asked him a question, and the Chief didn't want to come off as rude.

“No, ma'am. Just…watching,” He says slowly, and he feels his cheeks heat up a bit. Was that odd to say? John didn't know, but he felt reassured when he spots the smile that curled your lips.

“Well, good. I don't think I’d be strong enough to haul you anywhere if there was something wrong,” you say, and huff a little at your own words.

John doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't have any kind of experience with civilians, not like this, anyway. He wracks his brain for something to say and wishes that Cortana was still here to walk him through this.

However, you don't seem to mind his silence. Instead, you sit back on the bench and look out at the busy stream of people. You are quiet for a while, but the spartan is prepared when you speak up again.

“I like to people watch too. Makes you feel a little less alone in the universe, ya know?” You say and grin again, suddenly scooting down the bench to sit beside the big man who seemed far too lonely when you'd seen him outside the café across the street.

John tenses, not expecting to have you so close, but he doesn't deny that feeling the heat from where your arm is pressed into his feels…nice. He nods slowly, agreeing with your quiet statement.

“It makes you realize that you aren't the only one out there having a hard time, or becoming successful, or even falling in love. We are all human, and even if it doesn't seem like it, we're all in this together,” you pause, and then your smile becomes a bit mischievous.

“And it's kind of fun to make up stories about them.”

John blinks, a bit confused about that. He turns and looks down at his guest, feeling his cheeks heat up again when he sees you looking right back, eyes cheerful and face far too close to his own. He looks away quickly and sits up straight from his slight slouch.

‘What do you mean?”

Bravely, you lean into his space and gesture subtly at an older couple that are walking down the sidewalk, a heated discussion going on between them. The man looks annoyed as his wife babbles on about who knows what, and you giggle softly and say.

“She's probably upset because her husband - they are definitely married, by the way - forgot to take out the trash. Look at him, he's heard this a thousand times.”

John takes in the look of fond exasperation that paints the older man's expression, squinting his eyes to try and see it the way you are. It doesn't make much sense to him, but he thinks he understands.

You poke your new friend in the arm and nod your head at a gaggle if girl's who are giggling and fawning over a data pad.

“They're probably looking at the cute boy who invited one of them to prom. Or maybe a famous celebrity crush.”

You point out a few other civilians, and one or two of your little stories get the stoic man to crack a tiny smile, and eventually relax again, even with you pressed so close to his side. It feels good to have someone near. Someone who can so easily take up the quiet space that he still isn't used to feeling. The Master Chief finds that he rather likes your company and would like to know more about you.

John finally speaks up again when there is a lul in the rather one-sided conversation, turning to face you completely.

“Do you think you could show me more?”

You take in the careful way he asks, the soft timbre of his voice, and you find yourself nodding easily, and you offer your hand, introducing yourself properly.

“I'd love to. My name is _.”

The Spartan carefully takes your offered hand and marvels at just how small it is compared to his own. He meets your gaze, his blue eyes striking in the city lights.

“My name is John.”

#reader insert #fanfic #fluff #halo #halo tv show #halo universe #halo 4 #halo combat evolved #master chief #john 117 #john #master chief x reader #john x reader #people watching #emotionally stunted #reader

[kilisia]

Why are More People not Talking about Isobel Thorm

ACT 2 SPOILERS AHEAD

Larian Studios really outdid themselves with this one in my opinion. From the surface when you meet her she seems like just any other character. Just Selûnite cleric that uses her moon magic to protect the last light inn.

(Isobel Selûnite cleric)

In my first playthrough I ran headfirst into the enormous battle that follows having no idea how important her character was. I let her fall and Fist Marcus took her. All hell broke loose and I fought my way through hordes of turned harpers. I continued to play the game as normal after said battle until a friend actually recommended that I backtracked on my saves and actually saved her. (best choice on god)

(Isobel doing her moon magics to protect The Last Light Inn)

Not much is revealed about her character after saving her. You don't find out to much about the character until saving Dame Aylin and also until you explore Moonrise Towers (if your thorough here). You can find an item that links her to Aylin within the towers, though this is quite subtle.

(Selûnite Brooch embossed with 'A + I')

There are several more hints towards this through letters, notes etc. Isobel does end up telling you after a while but I think this letter was the biggest punch in the gut for me

(Note found on Ketheric Thorm's Body that reads " Papa, I love you. LOVE FROM IZ")

Her whole story is so tragic, as is Aylin's, and Ketheric's. Playing though the act and learning about this set of characters made me emotional on a level that characters from previous videogames never has.

Despite everything, Isobel is still comes across as a ***MOSTLY*** happy character.

(Isobel Smiling)

Oh and of course I can't forget to mention... LESBIANS

(Isobel and Dame Aylin smooooching)

(Gif of Isobel)

So, to sum this all up... I think Larian really put a lot of thought into this character and the story is just so heart wrenching I cannot.

(Writers notes: I am perfectly normal about Isobel and totally don't want her to absolutely crush my skull with her thighs akldfhjblkadfjhkldfjhkl)

#isobel thorm #bg3 isobel #isobel #bg3 #baldurs gate #baulders gate 3 #i would let her do unspeakable things to me #please kill me #mommy af #i am so normal #ketheric thorm #bg3 ketheric #dame aylin #aylin x isobel #bg3 aylin

[kooldewd123]

Back in August, we had the anniversary of Ash’s famous Kalos League loss. It's a battle you see talked about time and time again. It's often held up by fans as the one big stain on XY, a disgraceful way for the writers to end Ash’s Kalos journey.

I beg to differ.

I want to offer a different perspective on this loss, because I don't really agree with most of the criticisms levied against it. I don't think it portrays Ash in a negative light, or goes against his development, or anything like that. In fact, I think it’s quite the opposite. I planned to make a post talking about why I feel the loss fits Ash’s character arc back when I started seeing posts commemorating its anniversary, but I had so much to say about Ash’s characterization in this series that it took me until now to write it all down (also i procrastinated).

First of all, I want to address one of the most common critiques of the loss, since it leads nicely into the main point I want to make. This take essentially boils down to "XY had an Ash that was stronger than ever before. Losing goes against that." It's not a wrong reading of the series per se, but it does feel a bit… reductive to me. Yes, XY is about Ash getting stronger. But so are DP, SM, BW, and all the others. Ash becoming stronger over the course of the series is just something we can expect by default. A good Ash story needs to do something else on top of that, and XY especially needed to find an extra angle to his character since he starts the series already near the top of his game. It's actually a similar situation to DP: he came into that series fresh off his victories in the Battle Frontier, and so rather than simply coasting with a story about how strong he is, the writers brought in Paul to challenge him not just in battle, but in terms of philosophy as well.

So with all that said, what is Ash's story in XY actually about, then? Well, the comparison is often made that Ash is the "Brock" of the XY gang, and it's not an unfounded one. He's the most experienced member of the group, as well as the most well put together. The others look to him for leadership, guidance, and inspiration even more than Ash ever did for Brock. More than in any other series, XY Ash is defined by the way he interacts with his friends, and the reverse is also true for them. Let's take a detour and try to quickly run down their character arcs so you can really see what I mean:

Serena starts the series aimless. She’s discontent with her life, wanting something more. Recognizing Ash on TV and remembering his words to "never give up" is what gives her the push to finally take the first steps of her own story. However, those first steps are all she takes. She wants to get away from her mother, but is once again adrift as soon as she meets Ash. She bounces from activity to activity for a while, only deciding to become a Performer after meeting Shauna and having the sudden realization that she doesn't have a long-term goal like Ash. Wanting to be as determined as Ash is, she finally has something to actively work for and even confronts her mother with her newfound passion. She thinks of Ash to give her strength as she starts her first Showcase, and after she messes up, she remembers his advice to "never give up" and continues onward, even incorporating a ribbon she had received from Ash into her outfit to signify her resolve. Ash is at the center of every stage of Serena's journey. Nearly everything she does can be somehow traced back to Ash in one way or another.

That's all well and good, but it's just one example, and Serena's a bit of an extreme case, anyway. For more evidence, let's look at Clemont. The first time he meets Ash, Ash gets thrown out of Prism Tower, immediately brushes himself off and challenges Clemont to a battle, fights off a group of Pokemon thieves (which is apparently a regular occurrence for him), goes after a rampaging Garchomp with his bare hands, and ends the day off by jumping off the top of the fucking Prism Tower with literally zero hesitation. Following that buck wild first impression, Clemont harbors an immense amount of both admiration and intellectual curiosity for Ash. He constantly praises Ash for his unique battle style, and wants to study it so he can become an even better Gym Leader. He begins taking cues from Ash's style as early as his confrontation with Clembot, as he has to think of unorthodox ways to outsmart the robot programmed to act like him. Following this battle, he and Ash agree to have their Gym battle once Ash has obtained his fourth badge. Ash becomes Clemont's goalpost: having seen what Ash is capable of, he wants to be a Gym Leader worthy of fighting him. And when we finally reach this battle, he proves that he has absolutely succeeded, incorporating everything he's learned from Ash and more into their climactic showdown. 

While Ash’s companions in other series generally have stories that run parallel to his, XY stands out by placing Ash right at the center of both Serena and Clemont’s personal journeys. Ash permeates XY in a deeper way than any series before or since. This might be a weird thing to say, but XY isn't really about Ash per se. It's about the idea of Ash. To Serena, Ash is the representation of all the personal qualities she desires, yet lacks. To Clemont, Ash is a new way of battling, something that can help him improve his own abilities even further. So then, what is Ash… to Ash?

I know I just set that up as a big question, but the answer’s actually fairly simple. It's pretty clear that Ash recognizes the effect he has on his friends, and so he leans into it for their benefit. He's constantly trying to improve both himself and Clemont for their eventual battle, and is incredibly encouraging towards Serena every time she takes another step towards her goal (in fact, Serena is possibly the female companion that Ash is least sassy towards, although he’s also just less sassy than usual in this series anyway). Even with his Pokemon, this trait shines through. Froakie was a trouble child for every Trainer that Sycamore had given it to before, yet it respects Ash nearly instantly after seeing him in action. Ash’s encouragement and support is what gives Goomy the strength to grow and take back its home. He acts more parental towards Noibat than any baby Pokemon he had before, but also steps back enough to let Hawlucha take the lead raising it since he sees how strongly the two of them bond.

So here in XY we have a strong, self-assured, mature Ash who takes on a leadership role among the main cast. It’s an Ash that truly feels like he’s been through years of journeys and growth. But if he starts out the series so well-developed, where can his character arc take him?

Enter Sawyer. Not long after Ash has his battle with Clemont, he’s introduced to Sawyer, a rookie Trainer who had lost to Clemont shortly before. On the surface, this doesn’t immediately seem like the makings of a particularly compelling rivalry: an experienced veteran Ash versus a novice with only a single Gym badge to his name. Ash is undeniably the superior one in this dynamic. But once the two of them begin interacting, it becomes immediately clear how much heart there is to their relationship. Ash, ever the older brother figure, sees how much potential Sawyer has and wants to watch him unlock it. Sawyer, the analytical battler, takes notes from Ash’s battles and studies him in a manner not unlike Clemont to learn how to improve himself. Sawyer’s notes pay off in a big way, as he improves at an astronomical pace, winning four more badges in the time it takes Ash to earn just one, and even reaching his eighth before Ash does. Ash and Sawyer have one last battle before Ash heads to win his eight Gym badge, but for the first time, Sawyer manages to surpass and beat Ash. Although he’s glad to have won, his victory shakes both of them. Although they don’t say it directly, they can tell that something’s wrong. Sawyer decides to follow Ash to Snowbelle City to watch him beat Wulfric, but again, Ash loses. Between these two losses, as well as his struggle to master the Bond phenomenon, Ash begins to spiral, and it’s the first time we truly see him grapple with self-doubt in this series. Sawyer looks up to Ash, yet he had failed to live up to Sawyer’s vision of him. And if he’s failed Sawyer, who else has he failed? His companions? His Pokemon? With the image of himself as a mentor and an inspiration thrown into jeopardy, he begins to act uncharacteristically, running off into the woods alone and lashing out at Serena when she tries to help him. After cooling off a bit, he helps some Spewpa trapped in a tree and is saved by Greninja when the branch breaks. One of the Spewpa is blown off a nearby cliff, and when Ash and Greninja both jump into action to save it, they perfect the Ash-Greninja form for the very first time. The entire experience causes Ash to realize that the image of himself as someone everyone could count on had been weighing down on him much more heavily than he had thought. Because of it, he had been placing too much responsibility on himself. He needed to master the Bond phenomenon to become stronger for his team. He needed to beat Wulfric to prove himself to Sawyer. But in the end, he couldn’t do it alone, and ultimately ended up caving under the pressure without even realizing it. It’s only with the help of his friends and Pokemon that he’ll be able to move forward and actually accomplish what he’s set out to do. With that in mind, he’s finally able to reach synchronicity with Greninja, beat Wulfric, and make his way to the Kalos League.

In the semifinals, Ash finally comes face-to-face with Sawyer once again. As the two of them clash, Sawyer recognizes Ash once again. The cloud that had covered him in Snowbelle is gone, and the two of them can have a proper battle. Sawyer can truly show Ash just how far he’s come (and maybe even surpass him for real), and Ash can prove that he won’t falter again. That he really is the person everyone thinks he is. And with Ash-Greninja’s final Water Shuriken, Ash does just that. This battle, not the finals match against Alain, is the conclusion of Ash’s arc in XY. The Trainer that everyone looks up buckling under the weight of those expectations, and yet still managing to prove them right by coming out the other side stronger. I feel it can often get sadly overlooked in favor of the finals, but it’s a satisfying way to encapsulate what XY Ash is all about.

So what’s the deal with the finals, then? Why go through all of this just to have him lose in the end? Doesn’t that undermine the whole message? Well, no, actually. In a vacuum, it might seem that way, but I feel that removing it from the context surrounding it (as you often see in discourse about it) is doing it a disservice. The most important thing about the finals match is that it isn’t really Ash’s battle in the way the semifinals were. Ash’s arc is finished. This is Alain’s battle. Alain’s arc throughout the series effectively boils down to the idea that he wants to gain power in order to protect the people he cares about, first to defend Professor Sycamore’s research, and later to heal Chespie. He’s drawn to the Kalos League by the promise of many strong opponents to train himself against, Ash chief among them. This relentless drive for power, while good-intentioned, leads him to work for Lysandre, blinded to his true motivations. Alain’s victory in the Kalos League is the tipping point of his arc. He’s won the League, proving himself to be among the strongest Trainers in the entire region. And yet, at his moment of victory, when he’s achieved the strength he desired, Team Flare attacks, threatening the entire region. Key to Team Flare’s plans are Z2, whom Alain had helped capture, and the Mega Evolution energy he had helped them study. I often see people upset about Ash’s League loss trying to spin it into a story about Ash learning that winning isn’t everything, but it’s actually the opposite. Alain is the one learning that winning isn’t everything. In his quest for power, he had inadvertently brought danger to the very people he was trying to protect, with Sycamore and Chespie both being directly in Lysandre’s crosshairs.

And all of this eventually leads us to a scene where Lysandre, Alain, and Ash are on Prism Tower together. Alain is paralyzed by his emotions, distraught at what he had unwittingly brought about. Lysandre imprisons Ash and tries to force him to work for him like Alain had, but Ash refuses and breaks free using the Bond phenomenon. And for one final time, we see Ash inspiring people to be better. Seeing Ash act without hesitation, never for a second even considering forsaking his morals and working with Lysandre the way he did, Alain snaps out of his stupor and finally confronts Lysandre. Alain may be the stronger Trainer, but Ash is the better Trainer. Captured, outmatched, and weary from the League, Ash still chose to fight. Win or lose, Ash is still the best, like no one ever was.

#pokemon #pokemon xy #anipoke #ash ketchum #greninja #pokemon sawyer #pokemon alain #koolmathgames.com

[redlittlefoxari]

To The Ends Of Faêrun: Chapter Fifteen: Shadow Purge

This series is book two of a fanfic I have already written called Astarion Epilogue: An Adventure in Making Life

Master List Here for Books One, and Two

*List includes a prequel that is essentially one-shots of their adventures over the fifty years after the battle at the end of the game*

Warnings: Blood, Sex, Violence, NSFW 18+, Smut

Summary: After a week's journey, the party finally makes it to the Last Light Settlement to meet Halsin.

A trip that would typically take more than a week took only five days on horseback. Tav recalled when they had made the trip from Moonrise to Baldur’s Gate over fifty years ago, and how they nearly collapsed from exhaustion, racing to beat the armies of the Absolute. This trip was definitely more pleasant than that it was, as the roads were empty primarily due to the cold weather, and thus, they were left undisturbed the whole trip, which had Tav sending up thanks to whomever was watching over them. 

She had been on edge with Apple, keeping to the back of the line with Gale in the middle and Shadowheart leading the charge. Tav watched for any signs of danger and constantly had to tell Apple to keep her head down or, at the very least, put up a protection spell. Astarion sat behind her on the horse they shared, and Tav received more kisses on the back of her head and gentle rubs against her armor than she could count over the last five days. He, however, was just as tense as Tav was. Late at night, the two would sit up, holding each other until Apple fell asleep, and then they would take shifts watching for any sign of danger. 

Gale taught Apple almost every night for two hours so that she wouldn’t fall behind when she finally returned to her classes. Giving Tav and Astarion the opportunity to hunt for something to eat. It was primarily for Astarion to eat, but no one complained when they returned with rabbits or other animals that filled their bellies. They still kept where the blood came from away from Apple, who just thought it came from the bag of holding that Tav carried at her side. 

After five days of being on constant high alert and watching Apple on rotating shifts, Tav and Astarion were thrilled when they caught sight of Moonrise Towers. What was once a dark and desolate place had turned into something that resembled the glory it once held before Shar and Ketheric had destroyed it. Now, there was the sound of children playing in the streets, people laughing, and so much color everywhere they looked. 

“Gods, it doesn’t even look like the same place.” Astarion looked around in awe. 

“It looks like the shadow curse never touched this place at all.” Shadowheart dismounted from her horse. “If we didn’t know what happened here, I would be hard-pressed to believe it.” 

“Truly, we did the right thing.” Gale misty stepped off the back of his horse. 

“If we didn’t, I’m not sure we would have ever found Astarion’s ring.” Tav grabbed his hand and squeezed. 

“So it all worked out in the end to benefit me.” Astarion flashed a smile to no one in particular. “Can’t say I’m unhappy with how it all turned out.” He leaned down to whisper in Tav’s ear. “It led to the best thing that's ever happened to me.” 

“What would that be?” Tav leaned into him, turning her head slightly to get a better look at him.

“Our wonderful family.” He kissed her ear, and she smiled at his comment. 

Apple stayed in the cart, not daring to leave until Tav or Astarion told her it was all right. “And you all, including Auntie Karlach and Uncle Wyll, broke the curse?” Apple looked at Tav and Astarion. 

“Yup!” Tav jumped down from her horse. “And Grandpa Halsin… speaking of which…” She looked around for the big wood elf. “Where do you think he is right now?”

“I’m sure he’s off somewhere pretending he’s a real bear.” Astarion motioned for Apple to get out of the cart. “He did always prefer that form over having to wear clothes.”

They all looked around in wonder at the change only just over fifty years had done. Where there was once death and darkness, there wasnow light and happy people going about their day. Halsin hadn’t been boasting when he had talked about turning Moonrise Towers into housing for others and that the settlement looked utterly different from what the party would remember. Even when Tav and Astarion had come through the settlement in search of the ring that allowed him to walk in the sun, it was nothing compared to what it looked like now. 

“I like clothes just fine, Astarion.” 

A large booming voice came from behind the group, and as they all turned, knowing exactly who it was: Halsin came into view. The now over four-hundred-year-old elf looked much the same since the last time he paid Baldur’s Gate a visit. A little more tired around the eyes, but still full of strength and wisdom from years of hardship and leadership. He stood wrapped in furs and carrying a bundle of firewood tied together with some rope, allowing it to stay together for more accessible transport. 

Over the last six years, Hasin had come to visit them in Baldur’s Gate many times, bringing Apple gifts that he had hand-made or found along the way. She had so many wooden ducks, cats, owlbears, and other animals that it was hard to keep track of them. Halsin had become the grandfather that Apple lacked since Astarion didn’t know where or if his parents were even still alive and had no intention of finding out, and Tav only had her mother. Though if her father were alive, she wouldn’t let him near Apple. Tav would have killed him on the spot if he had even tried if Astarion hadn’t gotten to him first. Luckily, they didn’t have to answer that question as Tav’s mother had killed him a long time ago. So no,w Halsin had taken up the role with great pleasure and was the perfect fit for Apple. 

“Grampa Halsin!” Apple broke from the group and barreled towards him, arms stretched wide to wrap him in a bear hug. 

“My little Apple!” Halsin dropped the wood and knelt down. She collided with him, and he took her into his arms, standing and spinning her around in a circle. “How have you been, my sweet little cub?”

“Good!” She giggled. “Well, I got into trouble, but we are fixing it.” 

“I know a little about the trouble.” Halsin looked at Tav and Astarion. “Let us get inside. We have set aside some rooms in the inn for you all.” He nodded towards a young man. “Grason will ensure your horses are housed and fed for the night.” He moved Apple so that she sat on his shoulder.

A thin teenager appeared and started gathering up the reins. “I’ll be sure they are taken care of, and no one messes with them.” He bowed and walked away. 

“Thank you!” Tav called to him. 

“He is a good boy, and I have told him that he is to take care of the horses before he gets to join in on the festivities this evening.” Halsin signaled to follow him. 

“Festivities? Are you throwing a party?” Tav looked around and just now noticed the decorations being strewn about. ”I hope you’re not throwing a party on our account.” 

Halsin laughed. “No, but your arrival did match up perfectly.” He turned slightly to speak. “With everything going on, I’m not surprised that you don’t know what day it is.” 

“Are you going to tell us, or do we get to guess?” Astarion had a small bite to his words. 

Tav looked around to see strings willed with dried cranberries and citrus fruits. Cinnamon, pinecone, and evergreen wreaths hung from every door and post that was physically possible. Large vats of mulled wine, hot apple cider, and food of every kind littered tables as they passed. In the almost two weeks that had passed and with everything that had happened, Tav had forgotten what celebration was coming up. 

“Midwinter?” Tav said as she looked at Astarion. 

“Correct. I’m not surprised Tav figured it out just by looking around.” Halsin smiled at Tav and then returned to where he was going. 

Grasping for Astarion’s hand, Tav laced his fingers with hers as the rest of the party made small talk for the remainder of the walk to the inn. On the way, Tav looked around in wonder at just how much everything had changed and the life that had been breathed into everything around them. The thought that they had done this was something that filled her with wonder and pride that they had done good. 

After a ten-minute walk, they made it to the Last Light. What was once a broken-down beacon of hope was now completely restored. The outside stone looked like it had been polished and cleaned, but spots still had moss staggered, which Tav could only guess was because of Halsin. As they crested, the stoop of the inside front door looked like a lodge. Gone were the holes in the floor and the smell of decay. Now it looked new with the smell of pine and citrus, no doubt from someone making spiced cider for the party later tonight. 

“Gods…” Gale's breath hitched as he took in the sight. “It doesn’t even look like the same place.”

“It’s not.” Shadowheart touched the wall. “They have gone and made it anew.”

“You have the room right there to your right.” Halsin pointed towards the large room that had once been used as the infirmary. “We have put some walls up so that it is a little more private.” He walked towards the door and opened it. It led into a hallway with multiple rooms tucked away. “I’ll let you get settled before we talk about the matter at hand.” 

“Thank you, Halsin.” Tav gave him a large smile as he put Apple down. 

“It’s nothing after what you did for this place.” Halsin gestured for Tav to go. “I’ll be waiting at the table when you are ready.” He pointed to a set of tables and chairs by the fire.

Tav walked down the hall and looked in every room to see what was available. Several rooms had single beds, while only one in the back housed a bed large enough for two people. She looked to Astarion, a question in her eyes. Are we taking shifts? He gave her a slight nod before placing his bow down in the corner and leaving the room. Tav longed to feel him against her skin at night and missed snuggling up to him as she fell asleep. They just feared that they needed the added protection just in case something happened. There were several times on their adventures both while fighting the Absolute, and on the adventures afterwards that they had been woken up by a stranger leering over them in their sleep. Tav chuckled as she remembered that, one of those times, it had been Astarion.

Everyone picked their spots and quickly made their way out to Halsin, who had a small gaggle of children around him, begging for him to come and play with them. Tav could feel Apple vibrating with energy beside her. Her eyes filled with the desire to go and ask to play with the children. It had been almost two weeks since Apple had seen any of her friends, and Tav could tell that she missed them terribly. Tav looked to Astarion, another question in her eyes, and as he looked from her to Apple, he melted a bit and mouthed the word okay.

Tav smiled at him. “Apple.” 

Apple turned towards her. “Yeah, Mamma?” 

“Why don’t you ask them if you can play with them while we talk to Halsin.” Tav patted her head. 

“Really!?” Apple’s eyes lit up with excitement. 

Tav felt a pang of worry. “Just stay where we can see you.” 

Apple ran off toward the other children and expressed her interest in wanting to play with them. It’s not as if Tav didn’t want Apple to make new friends. She was just worried about introducing Apple to strangers that she did not know. Astarion and Tav needed to meet the parents back home before letting her go to their houses. The same went for if Apple wanted to have friends over to the house. Tav let out a long sigh of resignation, knowing that she needed to loosen her leash on her child. Otherwise, the next few weeks would be torture for everyone. 

As Apple ran off with the other children, going to play in the square right outside the Last Light Inn, Halsin motioned for everyone to sit. “They really are good children.” He gave Tav and Astarion the largest smile he could muster. “I would be more worried about what she would do to them.”

“We’ve just never taken her this far out of the city before, and traveling with her on the road...” Astarion paused. “You know all too well what can happen.”

“I do, but there is nothing to worry about here.” Halsin leaned forward in his chair. “I keep everyone in line for the most part.”

“The most part?” Tav could feel fear rising in her chest. 

“Again, nothing to worry about.” Halsin leaned back. ��Mostly teenagers who have a rebellious streak in them, and again, I’m sure Apple can put them in their place.” He looked to Gale. “She attends your school. Do you not teach them how to defend themselves?” 

“It is true Apple knows a few offensive spells, like Fire Bolt, Magic Missile, and Thunderclap, but she knows far more defensive spells as she is only six.” Gale stroked his beard. “She is extremely bright for her age, but that often doesn’t equate to common sense.” 

“Which is how we got into this situation in the first place,” Tav cut in as her fear was replaced with pride as she heard all the spells her daughter knew. “We need to ask you a few questions about the local forest and if anything strange has happened.”

“Ask away!” Halsin seemed delighted to be asked anything about nature. “You should start from the beginning so that I am in the loop.” 

“Of course.” Tav nodded. 

Over the next thirty minutes, Tav explained everything that had happened. The goddess, the quest, what they knew about Mielikki, anything and everything that could help them locate her. They didn’t know much about Mielikki, the goddess of the forest, only that she didn’t like to stay in one place for too long. She had her favorite spots, to be sure, but they needed to know if any of those locations had been acting strange. It would do them no good to just wander around with no clear direction to random forests that would eat away at too much time. This time, they did know how long they genuinely had. 

“That is quite the tale.” Halsin fell into silence as he absorbed all that he was given. 

“It is…” Tav took a deep breath and looked over to check on Apple, who had summoned dancing lights for her new friends. “We need to find Mielikki and return her to Angharradh before something horrible happens.” Tav turned back towards Halsin and the others. “I will not let Angharradh take Apple.” Tav straightened her spine. “It will happen over my cold, dead body.” 

“If we could avoid making Apple an orphan, that would be nice,” Astarion cut in. “Because I would be right next to Tav, fighting tooth and nail.” His eyes dilated. “I’ll rip out Angharradh’s throat myself.” 

“That might be a little harder than you think.” Halsin gave a sad smile. “She is queen of all the elves and is the reason for our very being. If the lore is to be believed, if she is slain, so is all of elvenkind.” 

“That could just be something she made up so no one would try.” Astarion waved his comment off.

“If it is true, then tell us if you know anything about where we can find Mielikki?” Tav Looked into Halsin’s eyes. “Any dying forests? Sightings?” 

Halsin thought for a few moments before replying. “A couple of high elves came through here the other day with their son, telling a tale about how Evereska forest was dying.” His face changed into something serious. “That the great trees that many homes and buildings were built into have dried up and started dying, and that even the surrounding forests have started to do the same.” 

Evereska was a major city where elves and other fair folk came to mine and produce great healing potions from its waters. It was one of the only places where elves and dwarfs got along due to it being a refuge. If it was dying despite thriving for centuries, it was highly suspicious. It was a place favored by many gods, particularly Mielikki, due to the harmony the locals shared with the wildlife, who chose to live with the trees instead of cutting them down. Building many of their homes in the giant blue-leaved trees that covered the city. 

“Alright then, I say we head there first thing in the morning.” Tav gave Halsin a smile. “Thank you, Halsin.” 

“Don’t thank me just yet.” He stood, his tall frame towering over everyone at the table. “I wish to join you.” 

“I don’t know if that is a good idea…” Tav thought about the poor horses. “We don’t have a horse large enough to carry you.”

“You are large enough that you could carry one of them,” Astarion put in. 

“I am only a little over four hundred years old!” Halsin bellowed. “In my bear form, I can keep pace with any horse in walk or a trot.” 

Tav considered what he was saying. He and Shadowheart were middle-aged by all rights. Elves typically lived for around seven to eight hundred years. Him being just over four hundred placed him in the same position as Shadowheart, and Tav was letting her come along. Her only argument was his size, and he had already thought of a way around that. With breaks to eat and rest along the way, he wouldn’t slow the party down due to his size or age. 

“I have no more excuses for why you couldn’t come.” Tav shrugged. “Plus, it would be nice having another elf. Astarion and I have been taking shifts watching at night.” She looked to Astarion. “Maybe we can actually get to sleep next to each other again.” She gave him a small smile. 

“The two of you have been sleeping separately the whole time you have been on the road?” Halsin looked appalled. 

“Well, we can’t really ask the old wizard and Shadowheart to watch the gods know they need all the sleep they can get.” Astarion gave the two in question a long look.

“You know words can hurt, correct?” Gale placed a hand over his heart. “And you have no room to talk; you’re older than Shadowheart and I combined.”

“I’m also an eternally young vampire, sooo.” Astarion drew out the last word and tilted his head as he gave Gale a cocky smile. 

An argument ensued between Gale and Astarion about respecting your elders and who demanded more respect. Tav just sat back and watched the two throw insults back and forth, trying to laugh at the absurdity of it all. As she felt eyes on her and not on the men bickering before her, Tav turned to see Halsin assessing her with the eyes of someone with wisdom well beyond her years. She gave him a small, nervous smile, and motioned towards the epic word battle, rolling her eyes to emphasize just how ridiculous they were. Halsin, however, still didn’t move his eyes from her, and instead looked as if he had made a choice. Tav had no clue what that was, as he didn’t share it with her before speaking again. 

“So it is decided!” Halsin sounded cheerful as he switched gears. 

Gale and Astarion stopped their bickering at the sound of his voice. 

“And what’s that?” Astarion asked. 

“Tomorrow, we set off to Evereska, but tonight!” Halsin paused for dramatic effect. “Tonight, we celebrate.” 

Tag list:

@ofmyth-andmagicart @lunaredgrave @littlekidsteve @omnia--mea-mecum-porto porto @ayselluna @myreadingmanga123 @kismet-of-the-divine @nicalysm @justlilpeaches21 @five-salty-bitters @lenarosic88 @caydevakarian @supervrgnsokay-blog @ravenswritingroom @kalypsoox @foxiecelery @wisteriaofthegraves

#astarion #astarion fluff #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #astarion dad #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #fic writing #fanfiction #fluff #fiction #fanfic #third person #bg3 tav #tav #astarion ancunin #astarion and tav #astarion angst #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #smut

[odinsonslut]

Reformed pt. 1.

⊹ genre: fluff mostly

⊹ pairing: draco malfoy x female Hufflepuff reader

⊹ themes: slow-burn 

⊹ summary: reader returns 6 years after the war. To her dismay, draco is her new supervisor while she trains as an auror. He had also managed to integrate himself into all her closest friends’ lives, making him unavoidable. Also unavoidable is the building tension between the two.

⊹ warnings: mentions of death, the loss of close friends, nothing explicit.

⊹ word count: 1.9k

⊹ a/n:  eternally terrible at writing summaries, but this is a storyline I like way too much to leave as a standalone. It might be a two-part situation, maybe even a mini-series!! I don’t have solid plans for it yet; just trying to perfect building tension without moving too fast or being too overwhelming. 

-

It had been 6 years since the war, and since you didn’t complete your last year of study with your graduating class, you ended up going back to school after the war with a few of your classmates, being a small group of students, it gave you the opportunity to connect with Hermione and Ginny. You really hadn’t seen much of either of them before the war being a Hufflepuff with barely any classes paired with Gryffindor. 

The three of us found comfort in each other during the difficult period of readjusting to school life and feeling alone as Ron and Harry went on to be Aurors, and I was only able to keep in touch with Madeline, my best friend, who was in Ireland practising extensive herbology research to come up with more effective antidotes to those still recovering in St Mungo’s. The rest of the group just sort of dispersed. I’d have thought fighting alongside each other and experiencing shared trauma would have brought us even closer together, but the rest of them couldn’t stand any memory of Hogwarts or us as a whole, and I really couldn’t fault any of them for that. Losing our friends was difficult, and we couldn’t just be a group of fun-loving kids hotboxing in the astronomy tower’s store room anymore.

The girls took me in early on. Ginny and I bonded immediately over quidditch. As my team’s chaser for the past 3 years, my affinity for the sport nearly matched hers. We’d spend hours practising on the open field together, preparing her for the scouts attending the games this year. She was a shoo-in for the Holyhead Harpies, and while I’d have loved to pursue a similar career, I wasn’t nearly as talented as she was, despite her efforts to help me succeed alongside her. 

Hermione was pleased to learn that I shared her excitement for learning and punctuality. We’d spend entire nights discussing, sharing, and reading books together in my single-occupied dorm, and since we were N.E.W.T students, we shared most classes, making long nights of studying in the Gryffindor common room all the more convenient. We grew closer the more comfort we grew to find in each other. We’d bake together in the kitchens with the elves once in a while. We spent a great deal of time mapping intricate policies that could be implemented one day in favour of the house elves’ rights movement we aspired to achieve. The three of us would often spend nights in each others’ dorms playing exploding snap, some muggle games Hermione and I introduced to Ginny, doing our makeup, and just being the young, carefree girls we never really got to be. It was freeing to heal parts of me with them. We had been inseparable ever since

-

It had been four years since you graduated from Hogwarts. You achieved exceptional N.E.W.Ts results but were never able to keep a job for longer than 4 months. You’d finally set out to Germany, where you’d spent the last three years in the Aurorial Appraisal program once you finally discovered your passion, and since you fought in the battle of Hogwarts, you were accepted with little difficulty. Upon completing the program, Hermione, as the deputy head of the department of magical law enforcement, whom you’d kept in touch with over the years, managed to secure you a job at the Auror office. You were to be a trainee appointed to a practising Auror for the first 6 months of the job. 

Since the couple planned on moving in together but couldn’t quite afford the rent of an entire apartment on their own, Ron and Hermione invited me to move into the common room of the unit, to which I graciously accepted. 

After a week spent unpacking and finishing our apartment came my first day. Hermione and I travelled to the ministry together since we both avoid apparition outside of dire situations. We bid our goodbyes as I made my way to the Office whose Auror I’d be shadowing for the next six months. I knocked on the door twice and stepped back, expecting the door to open for me. I waited two minutes with no response. I knocked again and again, no response. I huffed in annoyance, pulling open the door for myself to be met with a slender man sitting at his desk, the newspaper open, shielding his face from me.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m here for the briefing and introduction to my supervisor. Didn’t you hear me knock?” You couldn’t help but include the last sentence to what would’ve otherwise been a perfectly suitable first impression. 

“I heard, just wondered how long you’d spend standing around wasting time before taking action”, replied a smooth, steady voice.

I scoffed. “Just thought I’d practice decent manners, but it looks like you’re out of touch with the concept enough not to recognise it.”

He chuckled softly in response, seemingly refreshed by my blunt responses. Finally setting the newspaper down, he extended his right hand towards me as he introduced himself. 

“Draco Malfoy, a pleasure”, he spoke with a friendly smile. I was shell-shocked. His gentle aura seemed so unfamiliar to me. His eyes seemed to convey friendliness. His cheeks were lightly contoured with smile lines, and all I could think about was how it was possible for a man like him to form them. The only thing that looked familiar to me was the way his nose scrunched when he smiled, as it contorted into the same position when he sneered, which is predominantly how he addressed me throughout our years at Hogwarts. 

“I remember”. I spoke harshly, allowing his hand to float awkwardly in the air as mine stayed glued to my sides, refusing to meet his palm.

He dropped his hand eventually, his eyes leaving mine to stare at the floor, hoping to think of something to alleviate the tension. My demeanour softened. Even the aversion of his eyes seemed like such a vulnerable display for someone like him whom, before this, I had only seen cling to his pride and perception. I softly told him how he should address me, and he nodded curtly in response, not wanting to say the wrong thing again.

My day was spent in the ministry itself. Draco took me through the theoretical aspects of training to begin with. Our conversation didn’t stray much from the work discussion after our initial friction at his conversational attempts. 

-

Hermione got back home 3 hours after I made it home due to the additional responsibility that came with her position, I deduced. 

I bombarded her before the door even shut behind her. 

“You will not believe whom I’m training under for the next 6 months”, I practically shouted at her.

She kicked me in my shin with her sharp heel. I immediately keeled over, ready to over-exaggerate the pain I was feeling, when I realised her reasoning. Malfoy walked in behind her, straining his signature awkward smile that really only seemed to make its appearance whenever I was around him. I returned the uncomfortable smile before turning to Hermione with a pointed look.

“I figured the two of you would have bonded today. Guess assigning you to each other with no warning didn’t turn out the way I had hoped,” She spoke apologetically. 

“Draco works directly under me, which is why I trusted him with you. We all get together every Monday for dinner. Tonight’s our’s since we’re breaking into the new kitchen; Malfoy makes a solid saffron-infused risotto.” She continued.

I could barely process any information when even more people walked into our now cramped entryway. Ginny ran into my arms as we both fell onto the floor, where we settled in a tight hug gushing over seeing each other. 

Draco shuffled into the kitchen with groceries and a fresh baguette in hand, the rest of them piled into the newly furnished living room, and Ginny and I settled on the floor, refusing to detangle from our now loose hug while we caught up.

-

“It’s so surreal to me like you guys actually hang out with Malfoy? Sure you don’t keep him around as a makeshift house elf?” I asked, motioning to the kitchen. 

Ginny and I had finally made our way to the living room to join the rest. After greeting Harry and the twins, I joined Hermione on the only beanbag she begrudgingly allowed Ron and me to tarnish her architecturally detailed living room with since it was a neutral tan. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He’s changed a lot as a person, and you better get used to being around him. You’re still due to be partners after your training program, you know.” 

I groaned immediately. “Why couldn’t I have been put under Harry or Ron?” I whined to Hermione 

“They’re already partnered with each other”, she consoled. “Plus, you two have a lot in common. His food’s even better than yours,” she joked.

I gasped and smacked her arm. “I know where you live, Hermione Granger”, I fake sneered at her. 

“You should join him in the kitchen”, Ginny spoke from the couch beside us “at least make an effort with the man before deciding you can’t stand him”.

-

“Though I’m sure this makes for a priceless view, you could make yourself useful. It is your kitchen.” He spoke, jolting me from my fixed position at the doorway.

“You haven’t left it long enough in the water,” I said as he lifted the saffron-infused water. 

“Take over for me then”, he smirked as he took a step back from the stove.

I was taken aback by his newfound confidence but refused to let it overpower mine, so I walked up to the stove directly in front of him, taking the wooden spatula from his hand on my way over. I lowered the heat and allowed the dish to simmer to deglaze the wine, entranced by the warmth of his breath down my neck, the heat of his body just millimetres away from touching mine.

“Are you actually going to do anything?” He whispered just above my ear, tickling the skin surrounding it, the feeling moving all the way down my spine.

I failed to respond to him. “Looks about done.” He poured the saffron mixture in and picked the spatula back out of my hand. He stirred the saffron in, not moving from his spot behind me.

He moved, and I immediately exhaled at the blow of cold air that came with his absence. I didn’t miss it for long before he was right back, just a hair strand away from me. He dipped a small teaspoon into the dish and put it up to my lips, I tilted my head up, looking at him questioningly.

His soft fingers took hold of my chin, moving it back down and tapping my lips “taste”, he said. My mouth immediately opened in response. I nearly moaned at the soft, rich, perfectly seasoned risotto. He chuckled a breathy laugh.

“I’ll plate these. Why don’t you tell everyone dinner’s ready” he instructed, once again detaching from his spot behind me.

I went to do just that when I was cut off mid-announcement. 

“What on earth did he do to you to leave you such a breathy mess?” asked George almost incredulously

“breathy and positively flushed” Fred chided

I heard Draco’s hearty laugh from the dinner table

I glared at the pair, ignoring Hermione’s inquisitive smile

-

End

#Harry Potter #harry potter series #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter Smut #hogwarts au #hogwarts legacy #harry potter hogwarts game #hogwarts mystery #Harry Potter Hogwarts mystery #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #george weasley #george weasely smut #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x fem #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley smut #fred wealsey fic #ron weasley #dramione #drarry #hermione granger #harry x ginny #draco x ginny #ginny x tom #tom riddle

[fallershipping]

What Anabel is and never was

She is (was) the defacto leader or symbolic head of the Hoenn Frontier. In Masters she feels a familiarity with fellow Tower Tycoon Palmer, who in turn is also the defacto leader of the Sinnoh brains. Pokespe and Ihara's Pokemon Battle Frontier mangas both show off Anabel as the 'final boss' that was built up over their separate arcs... Plus this is probably a good reason why she became an Interpol Chief way later on in life. Leadership skills go far.

Her starter Pokemon is confirmed to be Snorlax, a Pokemon that stayed with her through every single battle she's ever had; Silver Symbol, Gold Symbol, Interpol, a choice she can have in the Battle Tree, and now Masters. Masters has dialogue that solidified Snorlax as her first Pokemon that she ever obtained.

The team of Pokemon she carries is varied and not restricted to one type. She seems to like to change her playing style based on her situation and often rotates her party. She only uses her legendary Pokemon for special competitive battles however, not seemingly using them for Interpol missions as far as we are currently aware. (Only two of her Pokemon are psychic type, being Alakazam and Latios)

Despite being quiet and aloof, with a very mysterious past involving amnesia, dimensional travel, and intense amounts of Ultra Energy, Anabel is just a normal human woman. She does not have any special and/or psychic powers, and the bond she has with her Pokemon is something she compares to the deep bond anyone can form with their own partner 'mons.

It's important to note that the practically ancient anime appearance of two episodes disregarded everything in her game appearance due to how little there was to her character, but continues to create lots of confusion over who she is to this day. Pokeani, notorious for rewriting game characters almost completely, rewrote her to be the equivalent of a Psychic type gym leader, with psychic powers, only with a team of Alakazam, Metagross, and Espeon as her ace.

The reason for this was probably because she heavily resembled the Psychic NPC character from the Hoenn games and probably her lack of dialogue, but even her implied personality of being bored with the usual boasting attitudes and blunt about how unimpressed she is even if you're a champion until you prove her that you're worth a damn is... Completely gone. It sucks really. She is truly wonderful and gets excited when she finds a true, honorary challenge even to her adulthood. And even with none competitive focused trainers, she has great respect for her fellow Interpol partner Looker and her retired superior Nanu after seeing them in action.

tl;dr god i hate what the anime writers did to anabel so much, and with official SM/USUM/masters devs having to make so many statements to explode that characterization into smithereens i honestly feel like i'm not alone in this lol

#/OH and Masters confirmed her legendaries as 100% canon! I mean they were in her party in the SM/USUM Battle Tree #/People also thought 'oh no she lost all her original pokemon now she had to start from scratch' #/Naw she has them and she never lost them. she uses her og snorlax and Entei's presence implies everyone else is here

[powdermelonkeg]

Tears of the Kingdom: A Scene-by-Scene Analysis

Tears of the Kingdom: A Scene-by-Scene Analysis

At long last, we've gotten our title drop for the sequel to Breath of the Wild. No longer will I have to call this Bo2W in my tags. No longer shall I agonize over fake title leaks.

But I digress.

You're all here for one very specific thing, and it's time I delivered.

This is our opening shot, a Zonai carving of someone...important. We don't know who, but there are some interesting details to extrapolate here.

The eyes, for starters. A broadly-stroked circle with three triangles underneath.

Already, we can see some parallels.

But the rest of this face is...more intriguing, to say the least.

The ears, to start. A stylistic choice? Whoever this is, they have way longer ears than we usually see on Hylians. Key word there being "usually."

Princess Zelda tends to have much longer ears than other Hylians, even Link. OoT Zel has the longest in full 3D modeling, but compare Skyward Sword Zel to Link and Groose:

Hers are longer, narrower, and usually without earlobes.

On top of the strange ears, we also have this...I believe it's a third eye. That's something I've never seen outside of things like bosses.

Moving on to the lower body-

It's a little hard to figure out, exactly, due to how angular and stylized everything is. But from what we can tell, our mysterious figure has long, flowing hair, a triangle at chest level, and a robe that reaches their feet.

I was trying to figure out what this ensemble looked like, when I remembered a specific line in Skyward Sword.

And then it hit me.

A tall, magnificent figure baring a triangle, with a flowing cowl and robes that meet her feet.

Even the strange dots on the figure's robe.

They bear a rather striking resemblance to the chain on Skyward Zelda's ceremonial outfit.

Given the prevalence of Skyward Sword references in Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom both, and the Hylia statues everywhere, I think it's not a far stretch to say that this is a Zonai depiction of Hylia herself.

The shot changes to show a battle underway, next:

This gives us some more recognizable faces—the onslaught of Malice, a legion of Bokoblins and Moblins both. Interestingly, though, the Moblins carry a weapon I can’t identify.

My first impression is a double-bladed scythe, but it could just as easily be wind marks behind a club, or a flag to herald their side. With the stylization, it’s hard to tell.

Against them, we have our armies, bearing shields with an interesting crest on them.

A stretched version of Hylia’s insignia?

Looking closer, we can identify these soldiers, at least, as Hylian (or some other similar pointy-eared race, like the Sheikah):

Our next shot is a full view of our strange deity.

And THIS gives us a lot to work with. We have Zonai writing we can analyze-

What looks to be either a Sheikah tower or one of the dragon pillars in Faron

Clouds-

-and an island

Which neatly parallels the floating isles we saw in previous trailers.

Our new god(?) has their hands outstretched in offering

Which is an...unusual pose. It’s once I’ve never seen on any of the Goddesses—Hylia always has her hands together, at her chese, while Din, Nayru, and Farore tend to be holding something-

-have their hands to their chests-

-or be posed like muses.

But do you know where I have seen this arms-out pose?

Hmm. Interesting.

But what intrigues me most of all are the symbols above our figure’s head.

They’re all identical, seem to be giving off some sort of light, and most importantly, there are seven of them. And in the world of Hyrule, the number 7 in legend usually refers to one thing:

In Breath of the Wild, we saw up close and personal how Zelda’s destiny shaped itself. We saw her trials and struggles at the beginning, and the game ended with her finally realizing the power her birthright grants her. But that’s far from what her ancestors, historically, have been capable of. And, seeing that Ganondorf is returning...

Speaking of Ganondorf, our next shot appears to be him, from the regalia to the posing.

Though, it is worth noting that the figure in the effigy has pointed ears, not rounded like the prince of darkness in the corner.

Also interesting to note, we can start to see malice creeping towards this figure at the bottom, in the form of red lines.

We then go to a much more alive figure.

This, from what I can tell, appears to be Zelda. Her hair flows, her dress has a sash around the waist, her arm is bare, and it looks like there’s a bracelet around her wrist, though it’s hard to tell for certain.

But there are some other important details here, too. First of which, we have the Zonai text.

It looks to be vertically formatted, like traditional Japanese would be. Looking close, we can see that these aren’t just random drawings to look cool, either; there are repeating symbols.

What this means is that this is meant to be read, rather than just an environmental effect. And given the frequency of repetition and the message being so short, we could be seeing a departure from A-Z translations that Hylian has, and shifting more towards the alpha-syllabaries of OoT and Wind Waker with the Zonai text.

Moving on, up in the corner, we see a doubled version of the marks above the strange deity’s head.

And then the Zelda carving is holding her hand out to another.

Another larger than hers, with bracelets about the wrist, pointed claw-like fingers, and markings up the arm.

My first thought is that this must be Link. It’s Zelda and another in legend, of course it must be, right? But in that case...why hide it? Why keep that side of the bond in shadow?

Of course, Link isn’t the only person to sport a hand like that in this game.

And then, we get to the actual game footage.

Starting off, we have Link pushing open a seat of double doors, with twin dragons on them.

The handle looks to be eye-like

And there’s faded writing on the circle.

We see Link run out onto a platform, one of the strange shrine isles we saw in the original trailer ahead of him.

I feel like these are going to have as much bearing as the Sheikah shrines in the first game.

We get a glimpse of the building Link just came from in the background, big enough to be a dungeon. Then...

What ARE those? Scrolls? Catridges? Whatever they are, they occupy the spot held by the Sheikah Slate, so we can assume they're powerful.

Then we get a slightly-more-enhanced view of Link's corrupted hand. It looks like there's a slot in the top, maybe what the cartridges plug into?

I’m going to continue this in a reblog because Tumblr keeps deleting new additions I make to this post. I’ll update this with a link (ha) when that happens. Stay tuned!

#loz #zelda #totk #botw2 #analysis #theory #long post #seriously though tumblr has deleted two essays now in the span of the past few hours