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haru-sen · 6 months

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halsin and zevlor, the first time/moment they are something more than diplomatic allies (maybe fluff, maybe their first sex time together, feel free!) before halsin has to go with aradin to the goblin camp (ada-melodies!)

I uh...short fiction LMAO. (It's only 3,250 words)

The Nature of Guardians

Set pre-Tav and the events of Through the Gates of Horn and Oak. SFW

“They’ve been following us for the past hour,” Tilses said quietly. “Some of the guards are getting nervous about the wolves.”

“Remind them to hold their fire,” Zevlor said, his voice carrying. Damays already warned him that this was druid territory. So when a group of large bears, wolves, and badgers started to follow from a distance, he understood that these were no ordinary animals. Maybe some were simple wild beasts, but there were likely familiars and several wild-shaped druids in the mix, and it would not do to court their anger.

Zevlor stayed in the front while Tilses and Asharak went down the line, reaffirming orders. Cerys was at the tail of it, making sure no one was left behind.

“We’re taking the Risen Road to Baldur’s Gate,” Zevlor called out to a dire wolf that lingered close to the road. “We are refugees from Elturel. We are just trying to follow the Risen Road to Baldur’s Gate. There are children here-”

The wolf locked eyes with him, a disconcertingly sentient intelligence on that lupine face, before it darted off. Zevlor exhaled, crossbow still slung across his back.

They made it another fifteen minutes before an enormous cave bear lumbered out of the grass. It trundled straight toward him, not charging, but its intent was clear.

Zevlor halted and resisted the urge to reach for his sword.

There was a shimmer of golden light and the bear stood upright and became the biggest, most solid-looking elf he had ever seen.

“Oak Father’s blessings on you and yours. My name is Halsin, the Archdruid of the Emerald Grove. You look like you’re in need of some assistance.”

Before today, Zevlor had never paid Silvanus much mind. And yet, that was the god he was thanking when he and his people bedded down in a real shelter for the first time in weeks.

“My apologies, Archdruid. The young man in question was trying to aid in kitchen duties, however-” Zevlor pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to think of the foul smoldering mess Danis created. “He is, at best, a novice.”

“You can just call me “Halsin,” Zevlor. We don’t stand on ceremony here,” Halsin said, sitting on the stone table Zevlor was using as a desk. “I came to apologize for Marcoryl’s outburst. It was an overreaction. Granted, the scent was foul, but accidents happen and druids should be made of sterner stuff. He’s just…” Halsin stared off to the side. “High-strung.”

“I think it would benefit everyone if we limit who’s on mess duty to a...trustworthy few,” Zevlor said, mustering a small smile.

“I have no complaints. I appreciate your people helping to clean up the Hollow.”

Halsin might not have complaints, but his second, Kagha, certainly wasn’t pleased by their extended stay and she was not alone in her feelings.

“I know our presence is a burden,” Zevlor said quietly. “I’ve sent scouts out to forage, but some haven’t returned. I’m...concerned.”

Halsin stroked his chin. “There are some troubling developments in the region. Some of our familiars are reporting goblin movements. You might want to limit your people’s range. I know ogres have been spotted in the area.”

Zevlor swore under his breath. “My scouts aren’t equipped to handle ogre marauding parties.”

“Most of my people are not either,” Halsin said, shaking his head. “We’ll have to monitor the situation closely and share information.” He smiled ruefully. “You might be sick of my face by the end of this.”

“No, I don't think that will be the case,” Zevlor said hesitantly, meeting the wood elf’s green eyes.

Halsin’s smile widened, a little too knowing.

Heat stirred in his blood, and Zevlor forced himself to look away.

“I think we’ve finally retrieved the last of Loic’s belongings,” Zevlor said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Cerys took point on that one. It was best if he minimized contact with Mol, for both their sakes.

Halsin leaned against a stone table, skimming some ancient tome while measuring out dried herbs.

“Loic’s a big whiner,” Nettie said cheerfully as she bandaged a squirrel. It was scowling at him, Zevlor was certain. “Can’t believe a couple of bairns pinched his pouches. He’s only making a fuss because he’s so ashamed.”

Zevlor managed a small smile and a grateful nod to the healer. “I...don’t disagree. But some of the children have had rough upbringings. All this time on the road hasn’t been good for their social graces.” Though thieving to survive was something Mol knew long before they left Elturel. He was keenly aware of the fact that his people had a reputation for being criminals, and he spent his entire life combating that viewpoint. But times changed. Now he would rather they break the law than die for it.

Halsin nodded absently. “The matter was hardly worth bringing to our attention,” He set the book down and finally looked up at Zevlor, and his smile widened into something more personable. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I-” Zevlor looked away. Supplies were dwindling too quickly now that the scouting expeditions were halved. The children and the other workers received priority rations.

Three scouts failed to return, and Zorru spotted ogres, as well as some other creatures he did not recognize patrolling the nearby roads.

“Of course not,” Halsin said, shaking his head. “Hold on.” He left the library.

“You know,” Nettie said, turning to him. “He really enjoys your conversations. Your knowledge of the history of the pantheon is impressive. I didn’t realize the relationship between Umberlee and the Oak Father was so...nuanced. I admit that I didn’t expect a soldier to be so well-read, no offense.”

“Ah, well, I suppose that’s fair. Many are not,” Zevlor said, looking down. “I received some...liturgical training in my youth.”

“Ah, a cleric of Helm then?” Nettie asked.

Zevlor shifted back and forth on his heels, tail winding tightly around his leg. “I was once a paladin.”

Nettie nodded amiably.

“Will you stay for lunch?” Halsin asked as he returned, carrying a large bundle wrapped in leaves. It smelled like smoke and meat, and Zevlor felt his stomach clench.

“I couldn-”

“No, I have to train Apikusis and Rath on advanced wound treatment techniques,” Nettie said briskly. “Enjoy yourselves.” She gave Zevlor a cheeky wink, before hurriedly exiting.

Halsin began to unwrap the leaves, the scent of herb-roasted venison filling the room. “Join me.”

“I should really g-” Zevlor began.

“I got up early and hunted it myself. I might have borrowed some herbs from Inwe, but she is getting a portion for her help,” Halsin said, his smile placid and inscrutable. “You are not taking anyone else’s share. You haven’t even been taking your own.”

Zevlor exhaled slowly. “Is it that obvious?”

“No, but I know the state of our storerooms and I know what kind of man you are.” He clicked his tongue. “Eat with me, please. Meals are better shared with friends.”

Nodding in resignation, and not a little enticed by the smell, Zevlor sat down with the Archdruid.

“Tilses has done wonders for organizing the stockrooms,” Halsin said, grinning up at him.

Perhaps because there wasn’t much left in the stores to organize. But Zevlor did not say that. He sat by the fire with Halsin, sipping the too sweet tea that the Archdruid preferred. The wood elf was stretched out on the grass, back resting against the split log that Zevlor sat atop.

“Tilses is excellent at logistics. If things had not gone the way they did, she would have made a fine quartermaster for our division.”

Halsin sighed sympathetically. “So why the Hellriders then? Why not the Order of the Companion? Seems more suitable for a paladin.”

Since leaving Elturel he had often asked himself the same thing. He did not regret joining the Hellriders, merely how he left them. But his path would have been much simpler if he had been a Companion.

“Some of it was reputation. I was an idealistic cadet with a young man’s pride,” Zevlor said hesitantly. “The Companions were a newer order and lacked the prestige of the Hellriders. And I suppose on some level, the Companion itself, while a wonder...never sat quite right with me.” The Companion, the heatless second sun over Elturel was called Amaunator’s Gift, and it was meant to prevent darklings and other corrupt creatures from assaulting the city. It was raised after the events fifty years ago, when the former High Rider was discovered to be a vampire and the Hellriders fought a losing battle against the undead. It was also the device Zariel used to drag Elturel down to Avernus.

“Prescient,” Halsin said softly.

“It was mostly a young man’s vanity,” Zevlor said. “And the desire to show them that an untrustworthy tiefling could be just as good as the rest of them.” He smiled thinly.

“You made Commander.”

“And lost it all anyway,” Zevlor said, waving his hand dismissively. “No matter, my priorities changed, as they needed to.” Zevlor stared at the fire, impressed by how easily the lie slipped off his tongue. Of course, his priorities changed. But the sting of his exile was not so easily dismissed. He worked for this his entire life, and what did he have to show for it? A broken oath and a dwindling population of civilians. “I shirked my duty once, and paid the price.” He stared at the fire. “But I will not make that mistake again. I am here for my people’s sake.”

“Admirable.”

“A necessity, Halsin. Not a virtue,” Zevlor said sharply.

“I did not want this role,” Halsin said quietly. “After my predecessor fell to Ketheric’s Dark Justiciars, someone had to bring our people home. The details differ, but the sentiment remains the same, don’t you agree?”

Zevlor nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Halsin procured a pipe from his pouch. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I used to enjoy a pipe on a rare occasion.” Halsin carefully lit it and took a puff, the fragrant smoke drifting up into the sky. He sighed heavily and then extended his arm, offering the pipe.

“No thank you. I gave it up.”

“Why?” Halsin asked mildly.

“It contributed to an image unbecoming of a Hellrider,” Zevlor said, recalling the High Rider’s words.

“Hellriders can’t smoke?” Halsin asked, a little incredulous.

“A tiefling one should not,” Zevlor said, bitterness twisting his smile.

Halsin snorted loudly. “Your commanding officers were bigots and fools.” He extended his arm, offering it up again. “It’s just us out here. Indulge yourself, Zevlor.”

Zevlor hesitantly accepted the pipe, relieved that Halsin very kindly did not say, “but you are no longer a Hellrider. Those rules do not apply to you.” They both knew it, but some things did not need to be spoken aloud.

He accepted it, taking a small draw. He held the smoke in his mouth, a pleasantly aromatic herbal taste, accentuated by the lingering sweetness of Halsin’s lips. It was almost a kiss. He glanced over at the wood elf and blew out a mouthful of smoke, wondering if the other man would taste just as good.

Halsin smiled at him in the firelight. “You look very regal ringed in smoke, Hellrider.”

“Thank you for sharing, Archdruid,” Zevlor said, returning the pipe to him.

Halsin just brought the pipe back to his lips and closed his eyes, taking his next breath with obvious pleasure.

The evening meetings were becoming a habit. If they did not see each other at dinner, well then Halsin would often seek him out later. When asked, Zevlor would merely tell Tilses that they were sharing intelligence and addressing the concerns that came from communal living.

Tilses and Kagha did not have a good working relationship, so it went mostly unquestioned.

“I...overindulged at one point. It is best that I do not partake now.” Halsin leaned back against the stone wall, and next to him, Zevlor was very aware of how much bigger the other man’s body was. He sipped his own glass of mediocre red. “I much prefer tea and honey anyway.”

“Don’t you mean honey diluted with tea?” Zevlor asked, the wine loosening his tongue. It was easy to get comfortable with Halsin.

Halsin’s answering laugh was a deep rumble that resonated in his core. The man had a dangerously disarming sort of charm. People underestimated him for his cheerful rustic attitude, something Zevlor was guilty of. But Halsin had all the cunning of his multiple centuries, he just hid it better than most.

Zevlor’s tail twitched and he took another sip of wine, determined not to overindulge in Halsin’s presence. The druid made him feel too relaxed, too comfortable, too sloppy. And that was something he could not afford to be right now. His responsibilities were to his people. He had already let them down so many times. Allowing himself to be distracted by Halsin’s considerable charms would be irresponsible.

“You look grim, my friend,” Halsin said, reaching over, that rough hand warm on his arm.

Zevlor stared at him, trying to muster a convincing smile, but he had never been good at feigning happiness. It was much easier to be a stern commander, but that approach would not work with Halsin.

“This is my face, Halsin,” Zevlor said, dropping the false smile. “My apologies if you find it disappointing.”

“Not at all,” Halsin said, leaning closer. “It’s a good face, handsome, distinguished even.” He slowly examined Zevlor with a painstaking thoroughness that held the tiefling frozen in place. “This face has character, much like its bearer.”

Zevlor stared wide-eyed at the other man. “I-” His breath caught. Who said things like that to a man like him? Halsin was...He didn’t know what Halsin was. Halsin was not one of his people that he needed to protect. Halsin was not his subordinate. Halsin was not easily defined. “That is quite the compliment,” Zevlor said, his throat suddenly dry. “You’ve rendered me speechless. I can’t remember the last time someone remarked on my visage in such a fashion.”

Halsin frowned. “Truly?”

“I-I was a military man, Halsin,” Zevlor mumbled.

“I’ve heard several of your own people comment on what a fine figure you cut,” Halsin said cheerfully. “You have quite a few admirers.”

“The folly of youth,” Zevlor said, waving him off. “They idealize a former Hellrider, and fail to see him for his many shortcomings. It is something they will grow out of soon. Likely on this very journey.”

“Live long enough, and you will realize that you have many shortcomings,” Halsin said, fingers lightly stroking Zevlor’s arm. “What matters is how you seek to compensate for them.”

“A commendable mindset,” Zevlor’s breath caught as his tail snaked along the back of the druid’s hand. His eyes widened at his own slip, and he hoped that Halsin would not notice-

Halsin chuckled, lightly flicking the tip.

Zevlor gasped, and turned his head, the heat of that touch traveling up his spine. When was the last time someone had played with his tail like this? When was the last time someone made his pulse race in frantic anticipation? Back in Elturel? Before the Descent?

It had to be a mistake. Halsin was just being friendly. Halsin didn’t mean to-

Zevlor looked back, to see Halsin watching him with those hooded eyes.

“Too much?” Halsin asked his voice husky.

Zevlor shuddered.

No, Halsin was too old not to know what he was doing.

“Perhaps I’ve had too much wine. I find myself unfocused,” Zevlor murmured, refusing to address the issue.

“Is it really the wine?” Halsin asked innocently. “I find myself distracted as well, but I haven’t had a drop.”

Zevlor’s breathing grew ragged.

“I’ve seen how you look at me, Zevlor. How your tail arches toward me when we’re alone. I’m not ignorant of tiefling body language.” Halsin’s fingers rubbed his tail and Zevlor gritted his teeth, realizing the treacherous appendage was brushing against the other man’s thigh. “I’m just letting you know that the interest is not one-sided, and if you wish to act on it, well, that is an option.”

Zevlor shut his eyes. “Halsin, that would be unwise.”

“As you say then,” Halsin said, his tone friendly and relaxed. “I have no desire to pressure you.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that,” Zevlor said. He opened his eyes to see Halsin staring wistfully at his mug of tea, still smiling, but the expression held a melancholy that he recognized intimately. Halsin led his circle much like Zevlor led his people. And it would be an imbalance of power to take a lover from those who depended on him. Halsin had similar views. Neither man was alone, but there was a certain kind of solitude that came from the position.

The poignancy of Halsin’s expression struck a chord and Zevlor’s chest tightened. He looked away for a moment, wondering when he had become so timid? Had he lost his spine alongside his oath?

Gritting his teeth, Zevlor, reached over, his hand resting on Halsin’s arm, savoring the feel of bare skin. “If we were going to pursue anything personal, we would have to be very careful,” Zevlor said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Halsin’s eyes widened. “I see.”

“Do you?” Zevlor asked dryly.

Halsin lifted Zevlor’s hand to his lips, his smile bright once more, like the sun shining through the trees. The druid kissed his palm gently, the warmth spreading along his shaken nerves and up through his chest. “I will be very careful with you, Zevlor.”

“It’s not me you have to be careful with,” Zevlor said. “It is those who rely on us.”

“Well, they are not here right now,” Halsin murmured, reaching out to run his fingers along Zevlor’s jaw. “And I think you deserve a great deal of care. I think it has been a long time since someone treated you with the thoughtfulness you deserve.”

Zevlor’s breath caught, the gentleness of Halsin’s touch taking him off guard. The damn man was too insightful, or perhaps he was too obvious in his infatuation. Still his arm moved on its own, trapping Halsin’s hand against his face.

Halsin smiled then and leaned closer.

There came a grinding sound as the chamber doors began to open. Zevlor hissed, dropping back as Halsin released him.

“Sir, the guards report mercenaries wandering around outside. They’re making so much noise, they’ll bring something down on us!” Tilses scowled as she stormed into the room. “We need to infor- Oh.”

Zevlor sipped his wine, eyes on the ground as he leaned away from Halsin.

The Archdruid sat a respectable distance away, also drinking his tea.

Tilses regarded them for a moment. “Oh good, you’re both here. I don’t know what you want to do, but there was no immediate threat, so we weren’t going to act without your permission.” “Thank you, Tilses,” Halsin said, sounding as unbothered as ever. Zevlor envied that skill. “I suppose we better go see what they want.” He climbed to his feet. “Would you come with me?”

Nodding in resignation, Zevlor rose.

“We can continue our discussion afterward,” Halsin said, his tone casual.

“That isn’t necessary,” Zevlor murmured.

“On the contrary,” Halsin said, smiling at him. “I find it a subject of great personal interest, one that requires my full attention.”

Still reeling from that declaration, Zevlor followed the Archdruid outside, to see what misfortune had come knocking at their gates.

#halsin x zevlor #bg3 #fanfiction #writing #zevlor #light spoilers for lore #light spoilers for character backgrounds

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starsphaeart · 4 months

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but i kept runnin for a soft place to fall

and i was runnin far away, would I run off the world someday?

but no, take me home

take me home where I belong

i got no other place to go

#Y’all when i tell you i WEEP every time I finish Eden #It literally never gets old omgggggg #When your artblock is so bad you resort to drawing backgrounds and general art instead of characters #sky cotl #sky children of the light #sky fanart #eye of eden #Spoilers? Kinda?#starsphaeart

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coern-art-very-cool-and-nice · 27 days

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the end is so, so close, you can almost taste its sweetness on your tongue

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tinkkles · 1 year

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I think the only mildly inoffensive way Amanda could come back as a guardian is if she comes back with all her memories and we all go "huh isn't that interesting, I guess the traveler is all muddied up w/ the darkness now bc of the witness' tomfoolery, wonder what that means for us' and then all of her existing relations just kinda continue along from where they were in a normal and ethical way

#like i do not want her to come back as a guardian bc i don't think theres a way to handle the crow situation in a good way from there #so the only choice would to have her be a background character w/ no interactions at that point which is also not great!!#idk im just sitting here crankily waiting to see where they're going w/ this i guess #season of defiance spoilers #also like zavala did suggest the traveler would not be raising any more guardians. or at least not giving the light to any more enemies #and like idk maybe he doesnt know shit but it was said ig ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

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enchanted-twisted-dream · 2 years

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~ GAME OVER ~

CG redraw with Yume of one of Tei’s bad end CGs! I hate lighting 🙃

#Tei #nameless the one thing you must recall #Nameless #OC #original character #self insert #otome #otome game #cheritz #cg redraw #redraw #Dreamarian #male yandere #yandere #nameless spoilers #I HATE LIGHTING I HATE LIGHTING #I took so long to do that background so many books like eck #*THROWS MORE DUST SPARKLES AND LENSE FLARES ON THE PIC*

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helaenahightower · 2 years

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really love that they're giving mysaria more of a presence than she had at this point in the book

#in f&b after the whole dragon egg debacle she kinda just disappears for like DECADES until blood & cheese happens #and even after that she's mostly in the background. i like her being an obviously significant side character this early on #wish her one scene this episode didn't have such horrible lighting for giffing though :|#hotd spoilers

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prettyboykatsuki · 5 months

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— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

#bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x reader #wyll x reader #gale x reader #shadowheart x reader #karlach x reader #lae'zel x reader #writing tag #waah. i love them all

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philip-the-nickel · 11 months

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Marketing did Elemental DIRTY

Just saw the movie, it was well worth the watch. The trailer made the movie look like some half assed race metaphor Zootopia ripoff with a canned, rehashed love story you've seen a million times.

Let me be clear, Elemental was none of the things the trailer made you believe it was.

First things first, The Romance:

There's a reason aro/ace people are flocking to this movie. The main couple falls in love without having to rely on any passionate kisses or hand holding; they fall for each other based on who they are, their personalities, their interests, their appreciation of the other's uniqueness. The central hand holding comes at a point in the movie well after the two are established as a couple, and have gone on many dates together. This movie makes their characters fall in love over mutual appreciation, not physical chemistry, and its such a genuine, sweet, wholesome romance to see play out

On top of that, this movie goes into a lot of aspects of immigrant life and the expectations that come with being a first born in a new country. The romance does not shy away from this or sweep it under the rug. The romance blossoms as the two learn more about each other, and come to understand and respect those differences.

Second, the movie isn't about romance, its about being an immigrant.

I came into this movie expecting zootopia 2: now with elements, and what I got was a heart-wrenching look into the life of a first generation child in a new land, born to immigrant parents. The movie absolutely does NOT sugar coat things, showing not only an ellis island moment of having your name changed, but also a number of topics ranging from having to navigate in a city made for people who are nothing like you, being denied housing, micro-aggressions, and straight up being denied entry to public places based on who you are.

The true heart of this movie is about the child of immigrants realizing the life she wants for herself, struggling with disappointing people who gave up everything they had so they could give you a better life, repaying that sacrifice and what a burden it feels like, and somehow facing the truth of who and what is staring back at you from the mirror.

Third, and lastly, the movie is absolutely beautiful

The trailers did this movie dirty. You never saw the refracting lights from firelight streaming through water, you didn't see the glassblowing, or how the fire dies down to barely a wisp when Ember is sad to burning like a wildfire when she's angry. You didn't see the scene underwater with the tree and |Spoilers|, you didn't see the world building or the character design that went into the background characters. This movie is absolutely beautiful, and uses light as both a visual treat and a metaphor for the movie's themes. Its absolutely gorgeous.

So, if you're wondering whether to skip this movie or watch it, I'm telling you now: ignore the trailers and go see this in theaters.

#elemental #elemental pixar #pixar elemental #ember lumen #wade ripple #asexual #aromantic #aroace

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theribbonmarkedroom · 1 year

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No spoilers but I never thought anything could top the animation, color palettes, and the overall visuals of Into the Spiderverse but Across the Spiderverse absolutely did without a doubt in my mind. Just gorgeous animation and compositions all around and I can’t wait until it comes on dvd so I can pause and admire every single frame. Everyone who worked on character designs, backgrounds and lighting etc should be so so proud of the work they’ve done.

#across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider man across the spider verse #into the spider verse #miles morales #gwen stacy #so visually pleasing #can’t wait for the art book I need to take everything on #the movie was really good too #consuming a piece of media that makes your heart so full and inspires you is an otherworldly experience that doesn’t happen often for me #spiderverse team I love you with all my heart

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cowboybabeop · 29 days

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Vault-Tec Vaults; Game Origin & Location

Hi I'm going to back to my "Fallout Blog" roots. Here is a summary of all of the vaults and experiments (starting with a timeline) because I'm insane ^_^ I had to add a weird break bc I literally hit the tumblr character limit, but I used it to section off the major spoilers for the TV series :)

Timeline

The Great War: October 23rd, 2077

Fallout Bible: Compendium of added lore by the creators.

Fallout 76: 2102

Fallout 1: 2161

Fallout Tactics: 2197

Fallout: Brotherhood of Steel: 2208

Fallout 2: 2241

Fallout 3: 2277

Fallout: New Vegas: 2281

Fallout 4: 2287

Fallout TV Series: 2296

Corporate Vault - Fallout: Brotherhood of Steel - Texas

A control group vault meant for Vault-Tec employees to continue research, primarily on FEV (Forced Evolutionary Virus) during the war.

Vault 0 - Fallout Tactics - Colorado

A control group vault with geniuses kept in cryogenic stasis, with their minds interlinked into an entity called The Calculator.

Vault 3 - Fallout: New Vegas - Nevada

A control vault. Residents ended up opening the vault doors when the lower levels flooded. Eventually the vault was overrun by Fiends.

Vault 4 - Fallout TV series - California

A test vault that was filled with residents prior to the bombs dropping. Experimentation on human subjects led to most of the original residents being killed in a revolt. In 2296 the vault is still thriving, while kidnapping surface survivors and continuing to experiment on them. The vault offered refuge for many inhabitants of Shady Sands.

Vault 8 (Vault City) - Fallout 2 - Nevada

A control group vault that remained closed until 2241. Instead of receiving two G.E.C.K. (Garden of Eden Creation Kit) devices, Vault 8 received just one and a replacement water chip that was supposed to go to Vault 13.

Vault 11 - Fallout: New Vegas - Nevada

Every year the residents were told to sacrifice a fellow resident, with the threat of everyone's death if they did not. In reality, the system would praise them for NOT sacrificing an individual and the vault door would be unlocked. This message finally played after only five residents remained.

Vault 12 - Fallout 1 - California

A seemingly normal, safe vault with an ulterior motive to study the effects of radiation on the inhabitants. The door never fully sealed, and in 2083 the ghoul residents left to found Necropolis.

Vault 13 - Fallout 1 & Fallout 2- California

Your home vault as the Vault Dweller. A rather normal vault, however due to a shipping mishap Vault 13 received an additional G.E.C.K. device (that was supposed to go to Vault 8) instead of a replacement water chip. Thus, leaving the Vault Dweller to leave the vault in search for a replacement when their only water chip breaks.

Vault 15 - Fallout 1 & Fallout 2 - California

A vault that experimented with incredibly diverse ideologies and backgrounds. The vault became severely overpopulated in 2097 and the dwellers decided to open the door. Shady Sands was created using Vault 15's G.E.C.K. and the local raider gangs all have origins from this vault.

Vault 17 - Fallout: New Vegas - Mention Only

Inhabitants were kidnapped and transformed into Super Mutants. Lily originates from this vault.

Vault 19 - Fallout: New Vegas - Somewhere in CA/NV/AZ/UT

Paranoia was induced by noises, lights, and segregation. The vault was divided into two sections, Red and Blue, with a separate overseer for each sector.

Vault 21 - Fallout: New Vegas - Nevada

An almost normal vault, with the exception of a culture and society built around gambling. All major decisions were made through gambling, with the decision to open the doors and become part of New Vegas being "won" in a game of Blackjack.

Vault 22 - Fallout: New Vegas - Somewhere in CA/NV/AZ/UT

A vault dedicated to studying agriculture. A fungus designed to kill pests on plants became capable of infected human hosts. Vault 22 is curiously green on the outside by the time The Courier arrives at the location.

Vault 24 - Fallout: New Vegas - Mention Only

Remnants of a Vault 24 jumpsuit are found in the FNV game files.

Vault 27 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

A vault designed to be deliberately overcrowded with not enough means to sustain the inhabitants.

Vault 29 - Fallout 76 - Mention Only

Only children younger than 15 were allowed in this vault, with their parents being sent to other vaults. Harold is believed to originate from this vault.

//TV SHOW SPOILERS//

Vault 31 - Fallout TV Series - California

Part of 3 interconnected vaults, serving as cryogenic home for the managers and higher ups of Vault-Tec.

Vault 32 - Fallout TV Series - California

Part of 3 interconnected vaults, serving as a healthy breeding pool for Vault 31 and 33. Somewhere around 2294, Vault 32 failed and the residents resorted to murder, cannibalism, or suicide.

Vault 33 - Fallout TV Series - California

Lucy MacLean's home vault. Part of 3 interconnected vaults, serving as a healthy breeding pool for Vault 31 and 32.

//END OF TV SHOW SPOILERS//

Vault 36 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

The only food in this vault consisted of thin, watery gruel.

Vault 34 - Fallout: New Vegas - Somewhere in CA/NV/AZ/UT

The vault was purposefully overstocked with guns with the overseer being able to give/deny access to residents. This inevitably led to it's downfall, and those who revolted and raided the armory relocated above as The Boomers in 2231.

Vault 42 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

No lightbulbs over 40W were provided.

Vault 43 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

A vault containing 20 men, 10 women, and one panther.

Vault 51 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia

A vault with a supercomputer as the overseer. Interference from the computer led to most of the residents being murdered by other residents.

Vault 53 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

Most equipment was designed to break down every few months in order to stress out inhabitants.

Vault 55 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

No entertainment tapes were provided.

Vault 56 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

The only entertainment tapes provided were of one terrible comedian.

Vault 63 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia

The inside of the vault remains sealed, with the outside door being all that is accessible to the player character. Other parts of the vault are revealed through cut content.

Vault 65 - Fallout 76 - Mention Only

Remnants of the vault remain in Fallout 76 cut content.

Vault 68 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

The vault contained 999 men and 1 woman.

Vault 69 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

The vault contained 999 women and 1 man.

Vault 75 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

A secret experimenting in refining human genetics through selective breeding, genetic modification, and hormonal treatments. The vault's concept was made by Stanislaus Braun.

Vault 76 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia

The home vault of the player character in 76. It was a control vault, set to open after 25 years. This is when the player character leaves the vault.

Vault 77 - Fallout 3 - Mention Only

Mentioned by slavers in Paradise Falls, this vault was rumored to only contain one man and a box of puppets.

Vault 79 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia

A vault dedicated to hoarding the country's gold reserves.

Vault 81 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

Designed to develop a cure for every possible sickness or ailment. Residents were unknowingly sprayed with diseases by nozzles hidden in their rooms. The first vault overseer had thought this to be cruel, cut off the scientists from the rest of the vault and cut the nozzles from spraying residents before the experiments could begin.

Vault 87 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD

The original vault experiment for 87 was scrapped, and it became a research center for FEV, leaving the vault wildly radioactive and inhabited only by super mutants by the time you access it as the Lone Wanderer.

Vault 88 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

An unfinished vault inhabited by ghouls.

Vault 92 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD

The best musicians were sent to this vault to "preserve musical talent", but truthfully residents were subjected to subliminal messages mixed into white noise. Eventually some of the musicians went into random, murderous, psychotic rages that led to the end of the experiment.

Vault 94 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia

A vault with non-violent faith-centric inhabitants. The vault opened one year later to search for survivors. The vault became overrun by wastelanders and raiders that destroyed their G.E.C.K. and their nuclear reactor. The vault was swarmed with radiation and is now overrun by mirelurks.

Vault 95 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

A vault designed to get people clean and sober. After a successful 5 years, a Vault-Tec agent brought out a hidden stash of drugs for other residents to find.

Vault 96 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia

A vault with a focus on agriculture, animals, genetics, and mutations. The original residents were killed in a failed escape attempt, and the vault was then used by West-Tek scientist Edgar Blackburn to continue research on FEV.

Vault 100 - Fallout 3 - Mention Only

Remnants of Vault 100 can be found in game files and cut content.

Vault 101 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD

The home vault for the Lone Wanderer. This vault was meant to never open and Vault 101 did not receive a G.E.C.K. However, the overseer of the vault pretty quickly broke this rule and occasional survey teams were sent to the surface. Several residents of Megaton are the result of these survey teams. Daddy James found the vault after the birth of the Lone Wanderer and negotiated his doctoral services in exchange for shelter.

Vault 106 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD

Psychoactive drugs slowly released into the air of Vault 106, causing the vault to be filled with psychotic survivors by the time the Lone Wanderer visits.

Vault 108 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD

A slew of experiments occurred in this vault. The elected overseer was dying of cancer, the primary power supply of the vault was scheduled to fail after 20 years, the backup power supply would not be enough to power ALL of the vault, the vault was given three times the normal amount of weapons, and the vault was not given entertainment. With a majority of scientists, one of the inner experiments involved repeatedly cloning the same man... Gary.

Vault 111 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

Your home vault as the Sole Survivor. All residents were meant to unknowingly stay in cryostasis, with scientists overlooking them. However, conflicts arose among those unfrozen, leading to the vault door eventually being opened.

Vault 112 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD

Residents lived in a virtual reality simulation to create their "perfect life" with their overseer, Stanislaus Braun, a scientist who proceeded to use the residents as playthings. Braun continuously murdered residents, then wiped their memories and reset the simulation.

Vault 114 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

An unfinished vault meant for only the wealthy. Vault-Tec exaggerated the luxury of the vault, gave residents very small rooms, communal bathing and dining areas, and a homeless drug-addicted overseer named Soup Can Harry.

Vault 118 - Fallout 4 - Maine

An Unfinished Vault meant to house both a handful of ultra-rich and hundreds of working class individuals to observe how they would interact within the same space.

Vault 120 - Fallout 4 & Fallout 76 - Mention Only

The vault itself was meant to mimic the underwater atmosphere of Bioshock. The game was cut from Fallout 4, but remnants can be found in Fallout 76 game files.

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ghibli-collector · 6 months

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For anyone who’s already seen Boy and the Heron i found this really interesting article where Ghibli Boss/Producer Suzuki was interviewed recently by indie wire and explains the background of the characters from the new Ghibli film, I’ve copied the full article below or you can click the link to go to the interview but once again it contains so many spoilers

‘The Boy and the Heron’ Is So Personal, Hayao Miyazaki Needed a Year to Grieve Before Pivoting in a New Direction

Miyazaki came out of retirement for his first film in a decade, about his friendships at Ghibli with the late co-founder/director Takahata and co-founder/producer Suzuki.

When Hayao Miyazaki pitched “The Boy and the Heron” (GKids, now in select L.A. and NYC theaters) to Studio Ghibli co-founder/producer Toshio Suzuki in 2016, he asked permission to make the story about himself. This took Suzuki — his friend of nearly 40 years at the time — by surprise; the legendary anime director isn’t known for getting so personal. And yet this aligned perfectly with the notion that Ghibli films are devoted to reliving memories.

“I agree that it is Miyazaki’s most personal film because he actually told me,” Suzuki told IndieWire over Zoom through an interpreter. Not only is “The Boy and the Heron” inspired by Miyazaki’s childhood (he endured the firebombing of Japan during World War II and his father was director of the family’s aircraft manufacturing factory), but also his career at Ghibli with his two closest friends: the late studio co-founder/director Isao Takahata (“Grave of the Fireflies”) and Suzuki.

“Miyazaki is Mahito [the 12-year-old protagonist voiced by Luca Padovan in the English-language version], Takahata is the great uncle [voiced by Mark Hamill], and the gray heron [voiced by Robert Pattinson] is me,” Suzuki added. “So I asked him why. He said [Takahata] discovered his talent and added him to the staff. I think Takahata san was the one who helped him develop his ability. On the other hand, the relationship between the boy and the [heron] is a relationship where they don’t give in to each other, push and pull.”

Collectively, it’s a lot to unpack: Miyazaki came out of retirement for the second time after “The Wind Rises” (2013) to make his 12th feature — the semi-autobiographical, hand-drawn fantasy for his grandchildren. It’s about destruction, loss, and rebuilding a better future through imagination, inspired by the novel he adored as a child (“How Do You Live?”).

Mahito loses his mother in the firebombing of Japan and relocates to the countryside, where his father (voiced by Christian Bale), who runs an air munitions factory, marries his sister-in-law, Natsuko (voiced by Gemma Chan). Traumatized, angry, and confused, the boy encounters a talking heron (part bird, part man), who tells him that his mother is still alive and guides him to an alternate world in a magical tower shared by the living and the dead. There he encounters his great uncle, the architect of the tower, and reunites with both his mother (voiced by Karen Fukuhara) and Natsuko.

At first, Suzuki resisted green-lighting “The Boy and the Heron” because of Miyazaki’s age (he’s 82) and the great expense (it is arguably Japan’s most expensive film but has made the equivalent of nearly $80 million at the country’s box office). Yet Miyazaki wore down his resistance with his enthusiasm and impressive storyboarding. The film took seven years to complete, and Suzuki needed to hire some of Japan’s most talented animators outside of Ghibli to handle the task (including supervising animator Takeshi Honda of “Neon Genesis Evangelion” fame). With diminished stamina and failing eyesight, Miyazaki was unable to oversee the production in the same manner as when he was at the height of his creative powers and relied on Honda to draw, redraw, and review under close advisement.

But with the death of Takahata in 20018, a grief-stricken Miyazaki was forced to scale back the role of the great uncle in the story, who had previously been more central to the boy’s life. “After Takahata passed away, he wasn’t able to continue with that story, so he changed the narrative and it became the relationship between the boy and the Heron,” Suzuki continued. “And in his mind, initially, the Heron was something that symbolizes the eeriness of the mansion and that tower, even ominous, that he goes to during war time. But he changed it to this sort of budding friendship between the boy and the Heron.”

Miyazaki first toyed with the idea of exploring the theme of friendship in “The Wind Rises” (inspired by real-life fighter design engineer Jiro Horikoshi during World War II) before abandoning it. “So this time around, when the Heron became the centerpiece of the story, and he came with the storyboards, I was careful for him to not portray me in a bad way,” Suzuki said. “Having said that, I’ve known Miyazaki for 45 years. I remember everything about him. There are things that only I know. There are things that only the two of us know. And he remembers all these small details, which I was very impressed with.”

For example, when Mahito and the Heron sit and chat at the house of Kiriko (voiced by Florence Pugh), a younger, seafaring version of one of the old maids, it is a recreation of the way Miyazaki and Suzuki would meet. “The place that we do our meetings, where we have our conversation is at his studio, his atelier,” he added. “And he has this like large table, but we don’t sit facing each other, we sit next to each other, and we never look at each other when we talk. And what we discussed was very similar.”

During production, Suzuki became impatient to see the new storyboards with the great uncle. It seemed Miyazaki was intentionally stalling while grieving about Takahata. “My question was: ‘So when is the great uncle going to appear?'” said Suzuki. “He built this great character, but he never appears in the storyboards that he would bring me. But it took him actually about a year after the passing of Takahata that he was able to draw that character into the storyboards in the second half of the story.

“And the most surprising thing for me was when I saw the storyboard where Mahito was asked by his great uncle to carry on with this work, this legacy, and he says no — he declines the offer. Miyazaki was someone who followed the path of Takahata for so many years, and I thought it was a huge thing for him [to follow a different path].”

Meanwhile, Suzuki confirmed that Miyazaki has not retired. The film has given the director renewed confidence to keep working on other stories. However, Miyazaki can’t focus on new ideas while “The Boy and the Heron” remains in theaters. “He needs to empty his mind again,” Suzuki said, “and then when he’s emptied his mind with a blank canvas, he usually comes up with new ideas. So we have to wait a little more.”

#studio ghibli #ghibli #hayao miyazaki #spirited away #boy and the heron

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eliotbaum · 11 months

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Them³.

Some people expressed interest in the backstories & relationship between these characters so it’s under a cut. Beware, it’s full of Vallaki spoilers and. very long…….

Lydia Petrovna/Fiona Wachter/my pc Father Dunant

Alright so, a not-so brief overview of each individual’s background and where their stories meet. Mind you, that is everything I currently know about the characters, and I'm pretty sure Lady W is still hiding something.

Lydia Petrovna has always been a frail, meek-hearted woman, but with a kind soul. For what she lacked, her best friend from ever since made up for it; Fiona Wachter was everything she ever wanted to be. Strong, assertive and with force of will.

But Lydia also desired her in a different way, one that went beyond friendship and admiration. Fiona was not aware of those feelings and pursued Nikolai, while Lydia fell for Vargas, despite Fiona’s warnings and wishes for her not to do so. It fell on deaf ears, as Vargas seemed like a genuinely kind man. Suffice to say to those who played the game: the good qualities Lydia loved disappeared over time and he ended up emotionally abusing her, smothering her in a way where she completely lost who she was. Lydia was always desperate to help others despite her constitution and lack of powers or influence, so she thought putting on a bright face and encouraging the "all will be well" ideology would suffice. But she suffered greatly under it, too, coping with solitude and drug/alcohol abuse. Regardless, she kept holding onto hope, believing a better tomorrow will come one day.

Vargas growing more paranoid of everyone ended up manipulating Lydia into believing Fiona and her husband were not to be trusted. And with Lydia’s facade steadily replacing what Fiona loved about her, ultimately drove the friendship to a breaking point after decades.

Fiona Wachter received a prophecy from an oracle (Madame Eva) while she was a young lady. The prophecy foretold of an outsider coming into Vallaki to bring great ruin, but his blood would also bring back sunlight to the town. She believed in this prophecy ever since, all the while pledging allegiance to Ravenloft as a family tradition, which earned her conflicting powers. On one hand, she could perform miracles and harm with radiance, on the other she received darker powers from her pledge. As such, she is also caught between two fronts — wishing for sunlight to shine upon the lands again while serving Ravenloft as is her family tradition. (This is something my PC challenges her with a lot)

This was all kept secret from her best friend as Fiona had always been a cautious woman. Fast forward to her strained relationship with Lydia that broke apart during Nikolai's early death. 2 years before the campaign starts, he died of an illness, and when Fiona turned to Lydia for comfort she didn't receive it. Lydia pretended like everything was fine still, and tried to deflect any mourning or sadness with Vargas’ messed up ideology. Suffice to say, Fiona felt betrayed, bereft, in more ways than one. And then, her daughter, who was to be betrothed to Viktor Vallakovich, Lydia's son, went mad after prolonged contact to Viktor. Fiona went scorched earth and planned an assassination on Vargas ever since.

In comes my lil guy! Father Kasper Dunant, a humanitarian priest always striving to be virtuous, to be of help, but who leaves calamity in his wake for whenever he tries to do good. Up to a point where experimentations with blood healings destroyed his hometown, (if this sounds like Bloodborne. big inspo haha) and he fled — only to get trapped in another ruinous and cursed place. In Vallaki, he helped with the St. Andral church and Father Lucian, Lydia's brother. Vargas also took a liking to him, which resulted to Kasper and Lydia growing closer. He was attracted to her gentle heart, her kindness he found beyond her facade. They became light in each other's darkness.

Meanwhile, Fiona Wachter invited him & the party, intrigued by hearing of outsiders. She had hoped they could be part of her prophecy, and she intended to more or less rope them into her assassination plans. Now this being conflicting with many values and relationships our characters built, the party took a "safer" angle, in which we removed the biggest threat (general Strazni) from town and saved townspeople during riots following the assassination; Lydia being among those saved, who they hid away at the Martikov’s tavern. Lydia, who had fallen for Kasper early on, held onto him as she had lost almost everything (Vargas assassinated, Viktor teleported away) and they both found new hope, comfort and love in eath other.

And in a way, Fiona also freed Lydia of the shackles of her abusive marriage.

Fiona would've taken charge of Vallaki had it not been for Kasper's suggestion to establish a council instead of a single ruler. Consisting of him, Fiona, Vasili (completely different character in our game and not secretly, yknow), a homebrew NPC and Ireena. Fiona and Kasper started to develop this dynamic of push and pull, feeling for how much they can trust and work each other with their opposing views in terms of politics and Ravenloft. But they had one moment where they forged a bond; Kasper, a blood cleric, summoned a mock sun through 'Daylight' for her (my flavor is that he spills blood for some spells).

Voila, exactly what her prophecy foretold. She understood it wasn't real, but Kasper promised her to bring true sunlight back to Barovia. In a moment of fervor, Fiona suggested they could rule the town, the country together.

They are still very cautious but enjoy the tension and mystery they have about each other. Lydia, in the meantime, has been growing conflicting feelings about Fiona. While she was certain old feelings have been put to rest, the things Kasper tells her of Fiona seemingly awakened something again. There's a lot of guilt and hurt there, though, muddled with affection, and Lydia is sorting out her feelings still.

Meanwhile, Fiona still resents Lydia for her weakness. It was always clear how much Fiona cared for Lydia, repeatedly challenging her to put down this mask, to be herself again. And being hurt by seeing her friend lose herself so easily. It's bitter, but Kasper has been meekly trying to calm the waves, to little avail so far.

It is, A Mess to say the least, and Kasper together with Lydia have been growing concerns and worry for Fiona’s safety and ultimately, herself, since she changed so much, became so much darker since her husband’s death. But those two idealists hope there is still a chance to save her 🥺💦

tl;dr young outsider priest becomes entangled in noblewomen’s personal drama while both believe the gods and fate has sent him their way as he tries to mend a broken relationship

#curse of strahd #curse of strahd art #fiona wachter #lydia petrovna #kasper dunant #lydia vallakovich #if you managed to read all this #congrats and i love you #our dm puts a ton of work and thought into npc backstories and connections #bless em #i am so normal abt this game and npcs 🥴

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artist-issues · 6 months

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I Saw Wish

And it was the worst animated Disney movie I’ve ever seen. I have to watch it again before I can get into the nitty gritty details. But I don’t need details to sum it up, because my dad actually said it perfectly as we left the theater:

“It was like someone who didn’t really understand Disney movies tried to make a Disney movie.”

Both the form (the technical arts of filmmaking) and the content (the morals, values, and themes of the movie) were totally horrible.

I don’t know who’s fault it was. Jeremy Spears was in the storyboard room and Mark Henn and Eric Goldberg did some 2D animation. But they must have gotten outvoted, or they must not care anymore.

Because holy cow. Here’s some stuff that’s just off the top of my head.

SPOILERS. Not that it matters, because nothing interesting happens in this movie.

The writing? Terrible. Ninety percent of it feels like the characters are filling time with quirky one-liners that are trying too hard to be appealing, then failing, then taking you out of the movie. The jokes aren’t funny. The characters just respond to each other in conversation to check a one-liner box. The other twenty percent is whole conversations repeating tell-don’t-show exposition that has already been covered, usually twice, in previous scenes. Like if in Tangled, every scene had included some variation of Rapunzel saying to friends and enemies alike, “I have to see the floating lights so I’m sneaking to the castle with this thief who wants a mysterious tiara I hid from him. Don’t tell my mother, she’s a bit overprotective!” Over. And over. And over.

The character motivations are way too broad. Asha? Her dream is just “that everybody around me gets to be happy.” That’s it, in a nutshell. No deeper exploration of that. Nobody asks, “why do you care so much?” Nobody tries to convince her she should look out for herself, and then she proves she was right all along. The King? We are told (not shown) that he doesn’t want anyone else’s dreams to be “destroyed.” But he in no believable way expresses that that motivation is still what’s driving him during the movie—what’s driving him is just a plain old lust for power, no nuance.

By the way, the whole premise of the movie? Undercooked. Half-baked concepts strung together with no definitive meaning. Therefore, it’s not believable. Example: The characters act like the wishes are beautiful—well, actually, no, this movie doesn’t know how to show, so there’s not a lot of meaningful acting—the characters just tell us that wishes are “the most beautiful part of someone,” and that’s why it’s worth going through this adventure to give their wishes back to them. But there’s no proof of that in the movie. In fact, it directly kicks it’s own legs out from under that idea, because it has every character who gives up their wish forget that part of themselves. Asha’s grandfather has forgotten his wish, but that doesn’t make him any less “beautiful.” She, and everyone, still treats him like he’s this wonderful old man who deserves the world, who everyone loves…but why is he so appealing? If he “gave up the most beautiful part of him?” The only character who is changed by their lack-of-wish is the Sleepy-analogue character…who is just sleepy, which is described as “boring.” But nobody else who’s given up their wish in the whole kingdom acts like that. It’s just him. Also, the King acts like it’s so important to protect the wishes from destruction. But what does destroying a wish look like? That actually happens to Asha’s mom. Her wish-bubble is broken, literally, and she just says she feels grief. But like. Why? She never remembered it in the first place; it had been missing from her life for years. Also, what the heck is a wish?! It seems to range from broad concepts like “inspire people” to “fly.” Just “fly,” like a bird. The desire to levitate off the ground is the most important, beautiful essence of one background character. Like, what?! But no character ever has the why behind their wish to make us care.

I could go on and on about that point. Like, think about Disney movies that wrote the book on how to make movies about characters with wishes. If Ariel were in Wish, her bubble would look like “dancing and learning and exploring on the Surface with someone who understands her.” But we believe that that is her real, genuine wish, and that it matters to her, because we are shown why being understood is so important to her. Because it’s missing from her life. There’s a scene where she explores a boat alone, and even her best friend doesn’t get excited about it with her. Her dad won’t listen to her point of view. Her siblings don’t ask her about her life even when they think she’s in love. She wants what she wants because of pieces of her life that we are shown.

We are never shown why Asha’s grandfather is obsessed with inspiring people, so we have no reason to believe it, or care whether he gets it or not. We can’t feel disappointed when his wish is said to “never come true,” like we did when Quasimodo was abused by the people he wished to join. We can’t feel elated when he finally “gets” his wish, like we did when Simba smiles on Pride Rock remembering the same way he used to as a cub and claims the crown with a roar. We don’t have anything to hang on to, nothing to relate to, nothing to grasp and feel with the characters. So we don’t feel, because they didn’t put the work in to help us feel. They just say, “the mom’s feeling grief. Feel grief.” And expect us to do the work ourselves. I have to stop harping on this point and move on.

But The main point of the movie is very broad because of that lazy premise, and it’s barely reinforced by any kind of appealing storytelling. If I had to guess, the point would be “Keep wishing for more even when it’s hard.” But the story they told to communicate that meaning was so unimpactful. Asha doesn’t have a dream of her own that’s such hard work to accomplish! (Neither does her grandfather; his wish is “to inspire people.” And at the end, we’re supposed to see him strumming a guitar and believe it’s inspiring? We were never shown how he worked hard to learn how to play the instrument. Or that he carved it with his own hands, or anything like that. So there’s no meaningful demonstration of working hard for it or achieving your wish even if it’s far out of reach.) And nobody except the king is trying to take wishes away from anyone, and he just does it literally, after they voluntarily give them to him, so there’s not even any impactful demonstration of “don’t let anyone tell you your wishes are dumb or unachievable, or stop you from reaching them.” Even when he takes them away, it’s just because they…could, someday, be used to threaten his kingdom in a vague, really unlikely way. There are so many things you could do with “keep wishing for more even when it’s hard.” For instance; you could say the main character has always been afraid to dream (wish for more), because maybe when she was a kid something wonderful almost happened but ended in tragedy, so she keeps her head down and doesn’t want much because if you don’t dream you’ll never be disappointed. She takes no risks, and has to learn that sometimes trying and failing is worth more than slogging through life all self-protective. I mean, the pieces were right there. She has this line about her dad, and how she wished he would get better but then he died. She has lines about how nobody should have to live with grief?? Then that’s never addressed again! It’s just a throwaway emotion-moment with no buildup or follow-through to tie it to and support that main theme.

The compositions of too many shots were so terrible. Characters got cut off in weird places. One shot has Asha dead center, with her grandfather on the left side of the table and her mother on the right, having a family dinner with a super exposition-heavy conversation that is meant to be emotionally charged. But despite everything else being perfectly centered, half of her mother’s body is chopped off. The movie’s shot like someone’s mom who doesn’t understand technology tried to take a video with her phone.

The charm of the art “style” wears off basically immediately. I know what they were going for. I see the sketch lines and watercolor textures. This is maybe the first time Disney ever failed to accomplish a visual “look” that turned out good. Everything looks dull. Muted. De-saturated. Slightly out of focus, but not in a cool Spider-Verse way. The sets or backgrounds are lazy; at no point does the scenery look complete; big, empty, boring spaces that do not create any kind of “stage” for impactful moments. The rendering looks unfinished. When Asha’s hair moves during her belting of the “I Make This Wish” song, it’s bad. It’s unnatural. It flops in a way that doesn’t make sense for the weight of her hair. The most impactful visual moments come from the villain, and they’re moments when he looks way too unhinged for the kind of line he’s saying.

There is no interesting character development. Asha goes from believing everyone is basically good and their wishes deserve the chance to come true , to….that, again. That would be fine, she could be a static character, if she proved contrast-characters wrong, in a believable way. But she never does. Because no other characters argue with her except the King. And it goes no deeper than “everyone’s wishes are basically good and they deserve the chance to make them true” vs. “nuh-uh, because I get to decide what makes them deserving.” The King doesn’t have any kind of interesting development, either. They don’t expand on his tragic backstory—it consists of one drawing of him near a broken boat, and a few images of the corner burned off of his family taoestry. They never say “King Magnifico wished for _____ and it was taken away!” They literally never tell you what his wish or dreams were, or what motivated him to create the whole kingdom that the movie’s premise sits on. So there’s no convincing sense of progression, how he got this way, why he’ll keep going “so far.”

The pacing is weird. It undercuts every moment that could have any kind of emotion behind it. One minute Valentino is suavely bouncing around, then he’s given a two-second beat to blubber with badly-animated tears that he’ll miss Star—then he instantly gets to have another funny one-liner so we forget he might’ve been sad a second ago. We’re clearly supposed to believe that the King and his wife are devoted to each other, and his turning evil was such a big betrayal, but there’s no time and no impactful evidence for us to believe either of those things. And even if we did, the moment he’s defeated and trapped in a mirror, and begs to be let free, the Queen kind of shrugs it off, makes a forgettable one-liner, and tells them to throw him in the dungeon. And he doesn’t look remorseful. And we don’t even get to assume he’s embarrassed or emotionally devastated that he’s come to this—because the last thing he says is “nooo, the dungeon is so smellyyy!” Like this is a half-baked LEGO short that can’t get emotionally deeper than what an actual 3 year-old’s parents might be okay with.

And that’s the worst offense: The movie is not genuine. It works hard for nothing, and it has no vulnerability. It just uses old Disney standbys to pretend to be vulnerable. Have the music swell and the characters gasp and the songs drip emotion when characters are meant to be saying or doing something emotional.

But truthfully, think of all the Disney movies you’ve ever seen with the hardest emotional moments. The sheer joy of Genie when he realizes he’s free. The anguish when Elsa thinks Anna’s been frozen forever, or when Anna thinks she’s dead. The trauma when Simba loses Mufasa. The longing and dreaming of Ariel when she reaches up out of her grotto. The sense of foreboding when Mother Gothel says “fine, now I’m the bad guy” or the heartbreak in Rapunzel’s eyes when she thinks Flynn has abandoned her, or the shame on Aladdin’s face when Jafar reveals he’s a street-rat, or the horror of cruelty when the stepsisters rip up Cinderella’s dress, or Kala’s tears when Tarzan leaves her in the treehouse, or Sarabi’s tears when Simba comes back, or Mulan’s father tossing aside the sword and token of the Emperor to embrace Mulan, or heck, even just Lilo pushing Stitch in the woods and telling him “get out of here.” This movie has no moments like that. It has moments you can tell that the filmmakers wanted to hit like that—but they don’t.

Because no work is put into building them up. You know how much Simba loves Mufasa, because you’ve been watching their chemistry more than any other character all the way up till he dies. You know how much Mulan wants to please her family because she spends all of Act I desperately attempting to do that. You know Quasimodo believes the world below is beautiful and wants them to accept him because he has interesting things like—talking to gargoyles, convincing us that he’s lonely; building a scale model of the townspeople, convincing us that he sees them in a beautiful way and wishes he were beautiful in more ways than one like them, too.

Right down to the facial expressions, none of them are as anguished, happy, sad, excited, silly, in any convincing way like all of Disney’s other movies. Asha’s “low moment” when she’s afraid her “wish” hurt everyone else (still vague on what that wish ever was) lasts two seconds, she’s not crying, she’s barely sitting with slumped shoulders, and her family barely spend two seconds comforting her. They basically just say, “aw, no, it’s not y fault, it’s the king’s.” And she’s like, “yeah okay” and that’s that. It’s like the animators we’re afraid to animate really intimate emotions on the characters’ faces. The voice actors, too.

And the whole movie is peppered with Easter eggs to past Disney movies. But all that does, if you really know Disney beyond the visuals, is make you think of how hollow this movie is in comparison. How much you wish you were watching Cinderella or The Little Mermaid or something with depth and vulnerability instead of Wish.

#I’ll talk more in an organized fashion later #wish #disney’s wish #wish Disney #wish 2023 #critique #spoilers

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syneilesis · 5 months

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[fic] if only for a moment

if only for a moment

Love and Deepspace | Rafayel (Qi Yu) x Main-Character!Reader | T | 3.6k words | ao3 link (with correct formatting)

Rafayel waits. And waits. And waits.

A/N: Another LaD fic!! This time it's Rafayel. Several elements of this fic are inspired by and loosely based on his story anecdotes and bond story, plus that Deep Sea card line backdrop. So more spoilers in this one, I'm afraid. I think you need to be aware of them in order to follow the flow of the fic. But if not, here's what you need to know: basically Rafayel accepts a visiting professorship at the University of Linkon to reunite with the MC/you. And the prose poetry interspersed are loosely situated in the Deep Sea card lineup setting (you can search in YouTube for the scenes. This one is a brief glimpse of the scene). That princess/knight(??) dynamic is yum yum.

If possible, please read the version on AO3. I formatted the prose poems there as if they're really prose poetry, so I'd appreciate it if you check that out. (Though there isn't too much difference between the formatting here and there, I did make the effort of coding a little 🥺)

Anyhoo, hope you enjoy, and I am sO STOKED FOR THE OFFICIAL RELEASE. rip my wallet 💸😭

JUST LOOK AT THIS MAN AND BELIEVE

There’s a type of berry in a distant land that produces a rare shade of ink that matches the color of your eyes. It takes a hundred of them to create the right hue and volume for the art that he wants to make. It comes to him in a dream: endless desert, then fireworks of verdant sparks that coalesce into stem, leaf, and, finally, fruit. Rafayel remembers that land, so much different from the iridescent blue of ocean underwater, and the acrid gold of the barren desert. His mouth filled with the succulent sweetness of the dream, the lingering sandpaper roughness of the berries on his fingers. He already knows the name of the artwork even before he’s begun—Waiting, Missing. The ache in his bones gaining form, an intangible thing taking flesh.

Under the ocean surface, time is muted, a deafening thickness that surrounds you with its ambiguity. On land, however, it is linear, and fast, and in a matter of blinks, Rafayel’s visiting professorship nearly wraps up.

He’s only glimpsed you once or twice. Thrice at most. The university is big, but not big enough to warrant a dearth of fateful encounters. The first time he saw you it was at a coffee shop: walking along with your friends outside, your voice mellifluous and festive wafting through the trellis of the café entrance. You were talking about him—well, about Lemuria to be specific, but these days any talk of Lemuria inevitably draws in his name.

He’s committed your schedule to memory, and yet it just seems impossible to capture a moment with you. Even just a brush of shoulders, or of sleeves—an asymptote of contact. Just navigating around your orbit, but never truly meeting.

What would it be like—finally talking to you? You in front of him, face to face? Rafayel imagines the ache of waiting fading into the background until it’s completely gone. He yearns for that feeling, the release of it. A conclusion—or maybe even a beginning.

i. take my hand, he told you under the glow of the lustrous moon, the only source of light that contoured the secretive valleys of his face. i want to show your highness something. there was a country, he said, beyond the undulating monochrome of the desert, blanketed by lush trees and shrubberies and flowers that buildings were made in betwixt and around them—a nation of trailing and winding architecture, a marriage of the natural and the manmade. you wanted to ask why he’d planned on taking you there, and the only answer you got was a curt turn of his head and the profile of a masked man layered by shadows and distance. it would have been nice, you thought, if the moon poured light upon his hooded gaze.

Eventually he begins to frequent the café. Twice a week at first—he doesn’t want to come off strong right away, of course—and then making his way up until he’s hanging out there more than his own studio. He schedules his visits around your classes, always during the ones when the probability of you dropping by the café is high and he can ‘coincidentally’ be around the same area. It’s gotten to a point that Thomas calls him out on it, and nags at him to focus more on his painting. The next exhibit is immediately after his visiting professorship after all.

“From where I’m standing,” Thomas says, “you’re not painting at all.”

Rafayel ignores him.

Five minutes later, he says, “Not painting is part of the painting process.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, but he leaves him to it.

At the café, Rafayel attracts curious looks. A few attempt to approach him, but he pretends not to see them. They linger around the periphery, like moths to flame.

And then something happens: the entrance door chimes, and you swan into the coffee shop, earphones and denim overall skirt, the kind of rosy-cheeked image Rafayel finds on teen magazines, wide-eyed and earnest. You fall in line and order when it’s your turn, and your eyes sweep across the packed café searching for a vacant seat until they finally land on him.

Rafayel’s heart stumbles.

Up close, the baby fat on your cheeks still gives you the appearance of being younger than you actually look. You turn a polite smile his way, and his heart stutters again—but this time it is taken as a warning.

“Hi,” you say, tentative. Any hint of recognition absent. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

ii. you're counting the steps of your inevitable parting. you're at the edge of the desert, far away from your home and its familiar scents, oriented towards a direction that promised a future sad memory, the gentle warmth of his hand, the downward denial of his gaze. this longing that grew out of your bones, aching during cold, aching during heat, aching when he looked at you with such tenderness he had to hide it through the sharp tug of your joined hands, the long strides that opened up a lonely distance. intimacy was dangerous, knowing was dangerous, the bowels of his heart like a solitary flower on a high peak. what would you do to such loneliness?

Memory isn't always an infallible thing. The human brain cannot hang on to every moment of your life, though Rafayel wishes it were so. But still—to think that you would forget him, and it hasn’t even been a century. You were like a phantom thief stealing his heart in the night—no recourse, no resolution.

To wait is to be in agony, the burn of yearning locked within the heart. Rafayel has been waiting for a long time, and the only memory scorched in his heart is fire, the blaze and its blinding, all-consuming want.

What would you do to such want?

You have a blurry childhood, Rafayel discovers. After the first Wanderer descended on Earth, the incident strummed your memories like a stringed instrument that tired of the same chord, over and over. It had bothered you at first—not being in control of your own memories—but eventually you had learned to live with it.

“Grandma and Caleb—my childhood friend—helped me through the process,” you tell him, stirring your iced mocha with its straw. “I owe them a lot.”

Eyes cast down, but still the melancholy shadows remain in your expression. Rafayel folds his arms on the table, and leans closer.

Around them only a few people occupy the coffee shop at this time. How fortunate for Rafayel to catch you during your break while every other student is trapped in class lectures.

“There’s no use in dwelling upon what's already happened. Even sharks have to give up when their prey escapes. When you remember, it will be all the more joyous, no?”

The smile you give him is crooked, disbelieving.

“If I remember.”

“You’ll remember.” Because there’s no other choice, for you and for him. Rafayel cannot bear being shelved in the history of your smile and happiness. Waiting can only be endurable if there’s an endpoint.

In his studio, Rafayel begins his next painting.

iii. the berries tasted sweet, with an edge of sourness that clung to the bottom of the tongue. it had the exact shade of your eyes, a detail that rafayel brought up the moment he plucked it from the shrub. raising it to align with your eyes, comparing them with his artist's meticulous gaze. maybe when this is all over, i'll go back here again to extract ink from these berries, and paint a portrait of your highness using these to color your eyes. he never showed you any of his paintings, merely mentioned them in passing, and you constructed a dream of him from the throwaway words that left his covered lips. i'm not used to sitting for so long, you reminded him, and he glanced at you, then at the berry between his fingers. my memory is enough, then handed you the fruit.

In the few weeks of meeting with you Rafayel forgets that his visiting professorship is ending soon and he has to give out his last lecture. Thomas had asked him what his topic would be. At that point Rafayel had no answer. But now he has.

“I’ve been hearing you talk about Lemuria every now and then with your friends.” He props his cheek on his hand, tilting his head slightly and giving you a charming smile. “Interested?”

You blink. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I’ve seen you a couple of times here, and I happened to hear your friends chat about my lecture. Your points were almost accurate, I’m in awe.”

“The visiting professor—that’s you?!”

Rafayel pauses, the slosh of his drink nearly spilling on his frozen hand.

“You didn’t know?”

Sheepish, you say, “Honestly, I didn’t make the connection. Is that why plenty of people have been glaring at me as of late?”

He releases a frustrated sigh, eyes rolling heavenward.

“In any case, my final lecture is on Friday next week. It’s titled “Memory and Meaning in Lemurian Art”. Why don’t you drop by and listen, and you can tell me what you think afterwards.”

You retrieve your bullet journal to check your schedule. It’s colorful, filled with stickers and doodles that Rafayel finds endearing. Then the excited moue on your face drops into a frown, and Rafayel can foresee the next words that will come out of your downturned lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say guiltily, “but I have a major test that day, and I need to get a high score in order to pass the course.”

Rafayel exhales, long and weary, but ultimately shrugs off the apology. “What a shame, but I forgive you. Just don’t fail your exam or else my magnanimity would be all for nothing.”

He calls Thomas that night.

“I’ll disappear for a while once the professorship is over.”

“Hey, wait, what do you me—”

“You’ll be happy to know that this is for my next painting.”

A beat. “Okay … but for how long?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Then he hangs up.

He’s trying, he really does. The lecture ends to a resounding applause, and it’s mechanical how he answers the questions posed by the audience. But he’s trying, he’s trying. There’s no specter of you in the sea of faces in the auditorium. You’re at the other end of the university compound, sweating your way through your exam. He genuinely hopes you’d pass, for your sake.

Thomas had booked his flight to another country, where he’ll traverse to a land that he’d visited many times in his dreams and had woken up with a filmy, sweet-sour tang at the roof of his mouth. He’ll leave the morning after the closing dinner party the faculty has prepared for him. There isn’t time to pack much, and no time to tell you goodbye.

Rafayel guesses that it’s only fair: how would you feel waiting for him at that café, the chair across you empty, only the sunlight pooling from the window as your companion?

iv. parting, somebody once said, is such a sweet sorrow. much like those berries in that ever-green nation, a lingering sourness remained underneath, the sting of it reminding you every now and then. he was already mourned for even before he left. tell me what it's like—the ocean. he was elusive, untouchable in his grief. you'd heard through whispers, the story of his migration, the drowning before the drying, the unwanted journey. grief brought him to you and grief would steal him away from you, you knew, down to the cells of your body and the hopelessness in your blood. —and yet. and yet you wanted to have a taste of it, anyway.

The ever-green land is no longer green, or lush, or alive. Time corroded it into memory, sepia-faded, wizened. Past. The berries he’s searching for don’t grow here anymore. Everything here is empty, barren, helplessly so.

Rafayel hasn’t accounted for such development, but he should have known. Disappointment stings at his chest, and bitterly he turns away and stays at the next town over. At a family-run restaurant situated near the outskirts, he looks over the wide windows, across the highway road, beyond the jagged horizon. The painting won’t be finished, then. Another tragedy, pressed flat next to the forgetting, to the waiting, and his home.

The chef personally serves him his order and, after a shuffle of hesitation, brings up a question.

“Young man, you came from the direction of the old country, yeah?”

Rafayel meets his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, why?”

“It’s been a while since we had someone visiting that place. There’s nothing in there anymore, it’s been that way for years. Why did you go there?”

Rafayel is reluctant to say, but at the guileless set of the older man’s face, he concedes.

“I was looking for berries. The ones native there. They produce a shade that I need for my painting.”

At the mention of the fruit, the chef’s expression lights up. “Oh! I see, I see. You’re in luck, son. We grow them here at the farm. Plenty of those for everyone. How about I give you some? It’s rare meeting someone who still remembers the old country, it’s almost fate. How many did you say you need?”

Fate. Just like the time of your first meeting, as if the universe had gifted you to him. Just like the time of your parting, of your forgetting, of his waiting. Fate as a connection from you to him, red and burning brightly.

He doesn’t want to seem eager, but he knows he’s failed from the way the chef toothily grins at him.

“A hundred or so.”

The chef falters at that, jerking slightly back. But he accepts it with a nod, an avuncular smile making its way across his kind, powdery features.

“That sure is a huge number, but I think we can work something out.”

His painting takes a month to complete, inclusive of the time spent making the ink from the acquired berries. Sometimes, Thomas watches him paint, quiet in the background. His stays usually don’t last—a quick flash that Rafayel nearly misses, or deliberately ignores. But during the final stages of the painting process, Thomas hands him the exhibit details.

“I’m just thankful you’re on time for this one.” He sighs, relieved, then leaves.

Alone, Rafayel creates. Brushstroke after careful brushstroke, each varying by pressure and angle. He lets each layer of paint dry before moving onto the next. The berry ink—the color of your eyes—the solely different element of this painting. Center, central. The focal point. The beating heart. The years and years of waiting and longing. The form and the flesh. Alive.

This, too, is an endpoint.

v. can i see your face, just this once? your hands grazed his mask like a ghost wanting to touch. rafayel stayed still beneath your desirous fingers, observing, waiting, his own fingers twitching towards his dagger. even in the parting he could not let go of this distance. hopeless, hopeless. your highness would get nothing out of seeing my face. he's wrong, his eyes never left your face, and he's wrong. he didn't stop you from your grasping of his mask, and him—finally—bare and beautiful yet a little sad. you're wrong, you said, tracing his slightly parted lips with a trembling finger, you're wrong. it is everything to me.

The gallery is packed. No surprise there. It’s almost boring, in a way. Waiting, Missing hangs at the farthest hall in the floor, special and intimate as it should be. Thomas knows him well; otherwise, Rafayel would have whined at him to hell and back just so he could be granted this demand that is in reality a mandate.

He’s hiding from the throngs of journalists and art critics alike and sequesters himself in a corner that has a clear view of the painting. Loosening his collar and tie, Rafayel breathes and closes his eyes, leans tiredly against the wall. A few more minutes, and he’ll slink out of the building, reputation be damned.

He melts into the shadows whenever somebody passes by. He has neither time nor energy interacting with people today. Watching them through half-mast eyes, Rafayel stays in his secret place and studies with weightless detachment the people looking at the painting.

He’s made a bet with himself about the opinions of his followers and admirers. Who thinks what and why. It makes for great entertainment. The last time, a fresh-faced critic praised Rafayel’s technique as “innovative and a soul-rending reflection of the prodigy’s character.” He had laughed and laughed for hours until he couldn’t breathe any longer.

Another walks by, and before Rafayel retreats further into the corner, he glimpses a familiar gait and a familiar face.

His heartbeat races. He’s never told you that he’s holding an exhibit today. After the professorship Rafayel failed to maintain communication with you, convincing himself that it’s for the best that he protect you from afar that day onwards. It didn’t help that he had to leave as well. At the same time, you never made an effort of reaching out, and Rafayel thought that it was back to square one again, that waiting, that yearning.

But here you are right now, elegantly dressed, like someone gliding out of a dream. Rafayel swallows, his hands shake. You do not have someone else with you, and your eyes are brightly focused on Waiting, Missing, and for a fleeting moment your expression flickers into longing, strange and old and battered and sad, that it compels Rafayel to take a step forward—to you.

“Hey.”

The curious look vanishes; left no traces in your delighted face, as if it wasn’t there in the first place. “Rafayel!” you exclaim. “Long time no see! Congratulations on the exhibit; these are all beautiful.”

Outwardly he smirks, belying the torrential emotions he’s currently going through. He cants his head a little, works his charm on you. “Impressed? No need to hold back your compliments.”

Laughter, prismatic and crystalline. “Yes, yes. Especially this one—Waiting, Missing. What an interesting title. At the center, what paint did you use?”

Ah. Rafayel inhales before answering. “It’s actually ink. I had to make it from a hundred berries. It was a tedious process, but I wouldn’t use anything else. It has to be this, you see.”

“Whoa, no wonder you’d been radio silent all this time. You were creating this masterpiece.”

He hums, afraid that, if he speaks, he’d reveal too much.

“Well …” You throw a playful glance at him. “Shouldn’t we celebrate your success?”

His breath catches. “I—”

Before he manages to finish the sentence, a journalist calls out to him and that summons plenty more, swarming him with no chance of escape. It pushes you out of his peripheral vision, and Rafayel wants to shout your name, but you smile and gesture at him to entertain them first. You mouth, I’ll be back, and wander around other paintings some more.

When he finally succeeds in shaking the journalists off, he seeks you out and stumbles upon you near the exit, where there’s fewer people to pile on him.

“Excellent,” he says, sidling up beside you. You turn to him and smile, and there’s that lightning-flash of something again. For one unbelievably surreal instant, Rafayel thinks that despite your hazy memories, maybe you’d been waiting for him all this time, too.

And that thought emboldens him, moving closer and closer until your bodies almost touch. An asymptote of contact. But this time, he has mustered the courage to close that unbridgeable gap.

Rafayel offers you his hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

You stare at his hand then at his face, his eyes, and a meaningful moment stretches between you and him. But even before the idea of retracting enters his mind, you grab his hand joyfully, grinning ear to ear. His heart warms, full with everything.

You squeeze his hand, ready to go. “Lead the way, then!”

vi. a kiss is a greeting and a goodbye, and rafayel tasted of ferocious tides even if you'd seen them only in dreams. his eyes closed, as though savoring his last moments with you, guarded till the bitter end. would that i could ask you to stay—with me. but he shook his head—a final rejection. maybe in another life. there was nobody to watch you cry, in the after.

Rafayel is working on a new painting—a portrait this time. The model squirms on his couch, obvious about the discomfort of posing for too long. He huffs a laugh to himself, hidden by the canvas strategically placed between them.

“I heard that,” you grumble.

“Shush, you’re breaking my concentration.”

“If that already breaks your focus then I pity the rest of the art community.” A beat, then: “Is it done?”

“Patience, my dear muse. You need endure it a little more.”

“Hmph, fine. But after this you’re treating me to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“All right, all right.” He shakes his head, fond. “My muse, so demanding.”

Something sweet touches the edge of his tongue, succulent with a hint of tartness. Like longing. Except now, it’s layered with something new and exciting. Something like a new beginning.

In the far distance, the sea murmurs, lit fire by the setting sun.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #lad rafayel #lad qi yu #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace qi yu #fic #my fic #rafayel x reader #qi yu x reader #lad rafayel x reader #lad qi yu x reader #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace spoilers #it's near midnight again i shall now sleep

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jymwahuwu · 8 months

Note

GIRL I JUST HAD THE MOST DAN HENG SHAMING BRAINROT 😭 Again, inspired by your writing of Dan Feng finding us in another lifetime. Darling's immortal bc you can't meet the reincarnated version of your yandere if you're short-lived.

We all know that Dan Feng's outfit is ✨conservative✨ while Dan Heng's IL outfit gives your grandparents a heart attack. So imagine him gaining memories of you, the darling he kidnapped in his past and also regaining the old obsession. And the first thing you do when you met Dan Heng IL is judge his outfit bc why is he dressed like...that?? Where's the honor and pride of the high elder?? He's trying to kidnap you again, in THAT outfit??

CW: hsr spoilers (dan heng companion mission), yandere, kidnapping, conservative attitude (maybe seems a bit sexist), (implied but not described) non-con

😂Love Dragon boys’ different attitudes towards clothes!! Dan Feng’s conservative attitude towards you and his clothes is something I definitely won’t shut up about 🤭

In order to answer, I studied Dan Feng and Dan Heng's clothes-

Dan Feng's clothes are darker in color, the collars on both sides are higher, and there is a gemstone in the middle of the chest. And there is a picture of a crane on the clothes, which symbolizes nobility, elegance, longevity, luck and other positive meanings, suggesting his background and personality. In the animation trailer, Dan Feng sat quietly, even though he was locked by all the chains (implying the reincarnation fate of High Elder/that sin), he still closed his eyes quietly, without any sorrow, anger, or sadness on his face, like he doesn't care at all. And refer to the few clues now:

1) Dan Feng is described by Jing Yuan as "powerful", "beyond control".

2) When he communicated with Yingxing in the past, he had a strong and calm tone here.

At least it can be deduced that his character is a confident, powerful, charismatic, and even a bit tough dragon. As for Dan Feng who appears in the "Ichor of Two Dragons" animation, that "him" is the version Dan Heng understands. This may be much tougher than himself. As you can imagine, Dan Feng’s current fashion style is relatively conservative💕

As for Dan Heng, we all know what kind of character he is 😚 Let’s talk about clothes. In contrast, the colors of his clothes are brighter, showing that he is breaking away from the cycle of inheritance. Moreover, Dan Heng's clothes are much more revealing- his shoulders are exposed, and then his back and the middle of his chest are also exposed. The theme of his clothes is lotus, not Dan Feng's crane. The lotus is equally beautiful and elegant, but rises from the mud without stains (still looking at the light in the darkness). This is their different style.

In the past life, Dan Feng bound you to his side. No matter what style of clothing you like, the High Elder has ordered you to change into this style- like this Vidyadhara Lady NPC. Traditional Xianzhou style clothes. If you expose a little bit, like these Xianzhou girls (Sushang, Yukong, Tingyun, Qingque etc), exposing shoulders, thighs, calves, Yandere! Dan Feng is not happy with this kind of dress. In his eyes, it is immoral - why most people in Xianzhou dress appropriately, you have to learn from those few people who dress like this.

Not to mention you plan to wear clothes from other planets/space civilizations💀💔What? Are you going to expose some skin on your chest? You don't even have any fabric on your waist! Those clothes disappear from your closet (um, they appear every time you act sad, but Dan Feng said it has nothing to do with him). Don't you notice that people are looking at you? Some people want to flirt with you.

Over the long centuries, the few exceptions were in private. For example, that time you bought a dragon tail and a cute revealing outfit and wore them to please your angry dragon husband. Dan Feng gently stroked your tail and pursed his lips.

After Dan Feng's reincarnation, you escaped from Luofu, took a spaceship, and traveled around various planets. Dan Feng has always forced you to stay with him. Now that you are free, you should be happy, but loss and sorrow haunt your heart.

The dragon who once said that no matter which reincarnation will find you...is it really gone?

Until you meet the boy. Those eyes that are as bright as the ocean, and similar dragon horns and tail.

"Found you."

It's been a long time since you've felt that fear of being captured. In panic, you pushed his chest and noticed his clothes, which turned into another kind of shock. Wait, where's the honor and pride of the High Elder?? Indecent?? The middle of his chest is even exposed.

This might be an odd focus for you about to be kidnapped, but you really haven't seen Dan Feng like this in hundreds of years. Dan Heng puts you on the Astral Express and selects a room for you. He will stick to your side at night, curl up with his tail and sleep with you. You realize the difference between him and Dan Feng, especially in your clothing attitude. He allows you to keep wearing whatever you like, March and Stelle discuss fashion trends with you, have a slumber party, laughing.

Sometimes, you miss Dan Feng and recall what they brought to you. You know they are two people. The changes they bring to you are etched deeply in your heart.

#yandere dan heng x female reader #yandere dan feng x female reader #yandere dan heng x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you

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okthatsgreat · 2 months

Text

did anybody see the newest episode of danganronpa 52 lollllllll

#there is something deeply wrong with team dr im afraid #A DEATH SO SOON JESUSSSSSS where was the ult cardiologist at......... #dr52 liveblog #dr52 spoilers #lee chat

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🐻 dangronper Follow

Gonna try getting into the new season lol, I stopped watching at season 37. No spoilers please

🐻 dangronper Follow

Okay wow a lot has changed! Everything is so high tech now??? I kinda miss when they just kept it more simple and had them all locked in a school ngl but maybe thats just me liking season 1 lol. Im really liking Jiro so far Im hoping he at least makes it to chapter 3 because I really wanna know more about that guy

🐻 dangronper Follow

You've gotta be kidding.

#CHAPTER ONE? HE DIED CHAPTER ONE? #THIS IS WHY I HATE ALL OF THE NEW SEASONS SO FUCKIGN BAD #THEY ONLY CARE ABOUT SHOCK VALUE AND THEY DONT CARE ABOUT STORY #THAT DEATH MAKES NO SENSE THERE ARE YOU ACTUALLY JOKING #Im logging off.

4 notes

💀 youvegotthatrite Following

12,433 notes

🫖 nagitosleftleg Follow

just a reminder that wishing death on any of the danganronpa writers makes you a terrible person and all of your favorite danganronpa characters hate you if you do that! 🤗 this is danganronpa so a lot of them will die 🤗 that doesnt mean you get to be a dickhead to team dr 🤗 get over it! 🤗

🍳 naeggieggin Follow

oh my god can anybody in this fandom just be normal and not use this weird passive aggressive tone for every single post. the writers do not give less of a fuck and neither do the actors theyre all dealing with their own shit

#i hate this fandom istg. and stop calling them characters the flashback light doesnt make them entirely fake #theyre still actual people #with feelings #danganronpa 52

769 notes

🍀luckyguy Follow

this is NOT what ultimate hope makoto naegi would have wanted

#dr52 spoilers #lucky student killed first chapter <;/3 #shut up you [txt]

4,013 notes

🔧 sorryiwasbornstupid Follow

kazuichi sighted in the new post-season promo video he looks so g.ood .... . id let him do anything to me

🌸 neverminded Following

@kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial @kazuichisodaofficial

🔧 sorryiwasbornstupid Follow

HELLO?

34 notes

🔪 danganronpa Following

Puhuhu! New episode of DANGANRONPA 52 out TODAY at 1pm JST! Make sure to bring your popcorn and your bagels, this episode sure gets.... despairful 👀You won't wanna miss it!

🍀luckyguy Follow

🔱 ultscubafan Follow

🎆 chickencoopexplosion Follow

🫖 nagitosleftleg Follow

🎸 lightmusicplayer Following

9,012 notes

🍳 naeggieggin Follow

can early season purists please get their heads out of nagito komaedas ass. he does not want to fuck you

106 notes

🎞️ kirigiririririri Follow

Waiittttt Jiro is so cute actually XD He keeps tripping over his shoelaces in the background of scenes LOL he's so smol ..............

🎞️ kirigiririririri Follow

I'M GONNA KILL MYSELF

#he's DEAD?????????????????????????????????

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🍳 naeggieggin Follow

keep in mind the danganronpa actors are still real people and they can see all of you thirsting over them ok. please be normal. just because they went through the effects of the flashback light doesnt mean its ok to be a fucking weirdo to hajime whenever he walks outside

🧊 kokoroicebox Follow

They're celebrities. People are going to find celebrities attractive, especially if these are people they see on screens and billboards every day. If you pick up the nearest magazine you find you're probably going to find Junko Enoshima in it. And maybe you should consider that those "weirdos" who are walking up to Hajime are simply fans that want to greet him. We've watched these people fight through hell, cry, laugh, and find hope along the way. Of course we are going to get attached to them, especially to those of us who have been keeping up with them for a long time now. You're basically asking a bunch of teenagers to close their eyes and pretend their favorite media doesn't exist.

🍳 naeggieggin Follow

i literally did not say that

🌀 cageofdeath Follow

have you maybe ever considered that maybe some people get hyperfixations??

🍳 naeggieggin Follow

oh my fucking god.

🎸 lightmusicplayer Following

anybody in this thread smoke weed

1,034 notes

🍊 hinataorangejuice Follow

OKKKKK WAIT WHY IS RANTARO KINDA 👀👀👀

#the way he got so serious while investigating.............. #wasnt a huge fan of him at the start but he's growing on me lowkey #dr52 #danganronpa 52 #dr52 #orange speaks!

29 notes

💀 youvegotthatrite Following

JIROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#FUFUUUCUCKKCKCCKKKCKKCKC I REALLY LIEKD HIM!!!3!@!#(!# #FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK #ORUUGH WHY COULDNT HAVE BEEN MOMO #dr52 lb

8 notes

🍧minimarruuuu Follow

no chapter 1 death is ever gonna beat sayaka imo #girl

#it just really started the series off so well and no other chapter 1 victim has impressed me tbh #ugh but idk shes kinda annoying now with all of her interviewssss like girl its ok to not smile sometimes lmfao #sayaka maizono #dr52 critical #maru.txt

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🎸 lightmusicplayer Following

guy ists ok hes not actually dead hes just sleeping guys

#guys #danganronpa 52 #danganronpa 52 spoilers #<- ??? just in case

🔍 kirigiri Following

🍊 hinataorangejuice Follow

ok queen speak your truth i guess

🌸 neverminded Following

THIS MIGHT BE A CLUE THIS MGIHT BE A CLUE TO JIROS KILLER IM LOOKIGNGGGGG SO HARD AT AKEMI RIGHT NOW

🎆 chickencoopexplosion Follow

i think she might have just accidentally posted a draft lol

🌸 neverminded Following

I dont know............. team dr has done this before where they leave littel clues in places and this seems a little TOO coincidental

🔍 kirigiri Following

I hit the post button too early.

🌸 neverminded Following

KYOKO KIRIGIRI?

43,033 notes

🐰monomini Follow

okkkkk im kinda over rantaro already lmao. heres hoping we dont get another season of him

1 note

#today i would like to present to you: what if danganronpa actually was a tv show and we all had tumblr #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #lee chat

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