#I don’t do dragon age but WOW

[rain-harmonia]

With DF confirming that Merithra is to become the Aspect of the greens, we’ve seen more than half of the original Aspects replaced. Nozdormu also seems pretty certain that his time is close to an end too (what with Murozond and such).

Which could potentially leave Alexstrasza as the only remaining original Aspect, quite soon.

I vote we kick her out too.

[iridescentleaf]

Just finished the veilguard and wow.phew.

[another-rogue-trevelyan]

Playing dragon age origins be like

Damn I don’t wanna go to ostagar

Damn I don’t wanna go to redcliffe

Damn I don’t wanna do the mage tower

Damn I don’t wanna go to orzammar

Damn I don’t wanna go to denerim

Damn I don’t wanna do the forest

Damn I don’t wanna do the temple

Damn I don’t wanna do the final battle

*finishes game*

Wow what a fucking phenomenal game

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” you utter with each step, the pinch of Floyd’s-- Lloyd’s hand digging into your neck.

“Shut up,” he growls as he as good as drags you.

You walk on your toes, scurrying to keep up. You cling to his wrist to keep your balance as the witnesses turn their heads away. What the heck? What is going on? No one’s going to help you?

“Get in,” he opens a car door and push you so you nearly ding your head on the side.

You catch yourself on the metal and carefully duck down, only for him to shove on your head and slam the door. You compress yourself in the seat as he stomps around the hood. Jeez, that sort of anger isn’t good for you.

He drops into the driver’s side and hits the steering wheel, his anger brimming through flared nostrils. You watch him nervously, waiting for him to explode. It’s like you can see the fuse burning, getting shorter and shorter as he tries to calm himself.

“I’m done talking,” he snarls and sits back heavily. He pulls at his belt buckle as he lifts himself above the seat. “You’re going to use that mouth for something good. I don’t wanna hear another word.”

He pushes his fly open as the buckle tinks and you cringe as he shoves down the elastic of his sleek leopard print briefs. Wow, very 70s of him. He rolls the fabric down his thighs as his dick springs free and you put your hand over your lips, hiding a smile as you snort.

He lowers himself and snarls over at you, “are you laughing?”

“N-no. Well, yes, but I just think... they kinda look funny, don’t they?” You poke your finger up to mimic his hard length. “Boing.”

“What is wrong with you?” He sneers. “How many have you even seen?”

“You know, I’ve been on the internet. I’m a child of the digital age so... probably too many.”

“Jesus, shut the fuck up,” he grabs the back of your head and jerks you towards him, “look, sweet lips, do yourself a favour and stop resisting.”

“Um, favour?” You reach out to grab the steering wheel, fighting to stay away from his lap, “I... I got dry mouth. I can’t--”

“Just open up,” he grunts, shoving on you. He’s strong.

Your arm bends and you collapse onto him, headbutting his dick as you do. You shake your head as you raise it and he suppresses a whimper. He fists your hair and pulls you up, jarring your head back violently.

“Fuck off,” he grits out, “open your damn mouth. And no teeth.”

“Look, I really am not in that kinda mood--”

“I’m about to break your teeth, cupcake. Are you gonna keep arguing?”

You blink at him and weigh a life time of smoothies and broth. His eyes narrow and you gulp. You squeeze your lips tight and try to dip your chin down. He slackens his grip just enough for you to make eye contact with his tip.

Whew, okay, right, you’ve seen some things on The Hub. It can’t be that hard. Figuratively. Literally, it does look pretty hard.

You shudder and suck in a breath. Well, here goes nothing. This isn’t really how you saw your first-time but nothing’s really gone to plan, has it?

You lick your lips and open your mouth as you bring your hand around to grip him. Thick, you think. Looks and feels like it. But the skin, so smooth. You didn’t expect that. You face down the great dragon, throbbing up at you, you will vanquish your foe.

You lower yourself down and hover your lips above his swollen head. You stick your tongue off and flick it around his tip. He twitches and lets out a hiss. You try not to laugh. So sensitive. You press your lips around him and continue to swirl your tongue. You’re not super sure of what you’re doing but it feels right, even though the circumstance is very wrong.

You stretch your lips around him until your jaw aches. He’s gotta be big. Thinking about it, maybe thinking too much, he’s a lot like the men you see in your incognito searches. You’re no prude, you just haven’t found the right person. He’s definitely not the one but well... let’s not think about that.

You ease onto him, feeling him quiver as his breaths puff out slow and long. You take him deeper and deeper, pausing as he grazes the back of your throat. You inhale through your nostrils and try to rear back. He keeps a hold on you, urging you down.

Your throat strains around him as he forces his dick deeper. You nearly gag, your foot kicking the interior. You’re bent over the console, half-twisted, your shoulder bearing too much pressure for comfort. Your eyes water as you find yourself suffocated with his intrusion.

He holds you there until your quaking. He lets up and you pull off of him, coughing and hacking. He chuckles and releases your hair, petting your head.

“Go on.”

You close your eyes and tremble as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, the other still circled around him. You pump then put your lips around his tip. You flick your tongue around and around, taking him in gradually. You reach your limit then back up, dragging your hand in tandem with your mouth.

A saltiness spreads over your tongue and you press it along his base. He growls and his hand spreads across your crown. He leans back into the seat, extending his legs as far as they’ll go in the cramped space. You hear the leather of the steering wheel creak as he grips it tight as you pick up the pace. Hopefully if you go fast, it will be over soon.

“Slow-- sweet lips, hold up,” he rasps, “slow--” He yanks you off of him and hisses, slamming an open hand on the horn as he spasm and curses, “fuck! I said slow--” He lets go of you and contorts as he cradles his sack and squeezes his dick tight, a gush bursting from the tip, stringing down his knuckles and onto his pants. Those look expensive. “What the fuck? You went too fast.”

“I... I didn’t mean to. I just... I did my best,” you stick out your tongue and wipe it on your sleeve, “I never did that before so... my bad.”

He gapes at you then his eyes drift through the windshield. He shoots a passerby the finger as his little honk drew the attention of curious eyes. He growls and opens his hand, examining the sliminess across it.

“You made this mess,” he snarls, “better clean it up.”

Your brow creases and you shake your head, “you got kleenex?”

“With your goddamn mouth,” he barks and sits back. “Hurry up.”

You keep from looking out the window as humiliation seeps in. The realisation that a very private moment is on display makes you nauseous. You bend over his lap again, once more taking him in your hand.

“Good girl,” he purrs as your lips touch his skin, “gotta say, those hands are a lot quicker than that head.”

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

I hate those Daenerys is going to sacrifice herself/die theories so much it genuinely makes me tweak and I have never been the type of person to get upset at all over fiction or any type of media, but this irks me so bad because not only is Daenerys my absolute favorite character of all time, it’s upsetting how the female character is always the one who has to die for others sakes and never achieve anything for herself. Yes, it’s her destiny as AA to fight the Others, but that doesn’t mean that she has to die doing it. Like, seriously, after we got F&B and saw how many Targaryen women struggled with misogyny and being passed over for the throne, it feels upsetting to me if the one who is supposed to break the wheel will never have a chance to do so. I do love Bran but I do not see him fit to sit on the throne, not to mention how young he is and will be at the series end unless George does a massive timeskip, and after the whole world is in shambles after the Long Night, who is more fitting to sit on the throne and help mend things and lead the people forward? A well experienced ruler and fighter who will bring along a new age of change, or a child with no such experience? Perhaps it’s just me being salty but I just really want the best for my favorite character who I believe deserves to have her shot at having a home and being able to rule and change the world together with the other characters. Especially after the end of GoT, which no I don’t ever believe that George will go that route, but with how everything happened in the show, it looked like Westeros was a completely and utter mess and there was nobody capable left to pick up the pieces, Bran’s ascension to the throne was so random too and didn’t even feel satisfying or like a good conclusion (not that those two incapable idiots could ever produce a satisfying ending, but yeah). What are your thoughts on this? I just feel sad that fellow Dany fans are literally enthusiastically waiting for her death in the upcoming books as if there isn’t a better destiny for her :( The female character who managed to rise to power and become a ruler in her own right dying or giving that up to the men in order to “settle down” leaves such a bad taste in my mouth and doesn’t look like the subversion George has done with her character at all.

I definitely agree with you anon, Dany dying/sacrificing herself really doesn't seem to fit with her story. Yes, Dany certainly would be willing to die to save the world, but that doesn't seem to be where GRRM is writing her.

Dany's story is saturated with life; which is pretty ironic since she's been called "Daughter of Death". She's closely tied to themes of fertility (mother of dragons, helloo), rebirth (Azor Ahai, entering the pyre), and survival/endurance.

Dany's story shares very little similarities to characters who have been set up for death. For example, Robb. Dany may share some superficial similarities to Robb, but the signs of Robb's impending death are not shared at all. GRRM always sets up the deaths of his major characters from their introductions. That hasn't happened with Dany; if anything we see a set up to her surviving.

You're so right about how people are foaming at the mouth for Dany's death. Her dying after everything she's been through and everything she stands for is just...no. It feels so gross and has some really concerning undertones.

The woman who actually fought for change and made a massive upheaval in the status quo, who genuinely cares for all her people, who understands the responsibility of ruling, who demonstrates incredible wisdom, who only wants to make the world better dying for the sake of the story is just wow.

[severinageto]

“About you and the arcades” — ONE SHOT

Another day, another dollar. Who cares? They're all the same. Breakfast, training, lunch, training, dinner, training, and bed.

“And don't even think about staying up reading manga, okay?” said his mom every night.

“And don’t even think about bla bla bla” mimicked an adult Satoru, remembering those times.

He hated them. Sure, his strict upbringing had made him who he was, but they were still bad memories. Formative years, they say. Every time he bought a Shonen Jump, his mind went to the pre-bedtime scolding or, worse, to the time his mom found his stash and burned them.

“And I had the whole first arc of Dragon Ball, for fuck’s sake” he said, dumping six sugar cubes into his tea.

“What about Dragon Ball? My husband was Vegeta” said Shoko, just entering the kitchen.

“That's like the hundredth time you've said that.”

“Wow, someone's in a bad mood. What's up? Did Megumi get suspended again for hitting his classmates?”

Gojo slumped into a chair with a sigh. Yep, Shoko was right. He was in a bad mood. Megumi had indeed hit his classmates, and he’d have to deal with the principal (an activity he despised), but more than anything, it was the day that bothered him. A beautiful spring morning, ready for the first cherry blossoms. Only he could be annoyed by such a scene. But it made sense. A lot of sense.

On a day like that, he met him.

*

He'd been feeling bored for weeks, no, months. The lessons were dizzying, the training exhausting, and nothing amused him anymore. Wandering endlessly through the forest surrounding the Gojo clan estate wasn't exactly thrilling either, at least not since he turned fourteen. He was anxious. Next year, he would start his studies at the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, which meant not only perfecting his skills but also something he'd been denied his whole short life: meeting people his age. It wasn't far off, really. Nevertheless, Satoru couldn't wait. So, it only took a small slip-up with his mother to bolt.

It was the third time he'd run away from home. The first time, at six, he'd decided to play snail hunting in the forest, an activity he kept up until, at dusk, one of his hysterical guards dragged him back. The second time, at ten, he took the train to Tokyo. He wandered aimlessly, attentively observing the eccentric passersby, listening to the loud noises, and smelling the various food aromas only a big city like that could offer. Until he realized, disappointed, that he still drew the attention of minor sorcerers. And there were plenty. He returned home before they noticed he was gone, convinced that perhaps no one would ever understand what it felt like to be a freak.

But this time would be different. He knew exactly where to go. And not only that, but he'd discovered how to mask his cursed energy for a short time. That, plus a good cap, guaranteed him a few hours of forgetting his boring, routine life Gojo clan.

“Fuck the sorcerers” he muttered with a giggle as he boarded the train.

Upon arriving at his destination station, he ran up excited. He knew exactly where he wanted to go: the arcade with games from the late '80s and early '90s and, specifically, one game: Street Fighter.

He didn't expect a guy dressed in karate gear with a meter-wide back to be using it.

But Satoru wasn't one to give up. He knew he couldn't keep his disguise and low energy for long, so he had to make the most of it.

He approached the guy and patted him on the back.

“What do you want? I told you I'd help...” he said, turning around. “Oh, sorry. Thought you were someone else.”

Satoru, seeing him, could only think one thing: "bangs." He was facing a boy around his age, with violet eyes and dark, shiny hair, highlighted by a suspiciously untamed tuft.

He stared at him, mouth open. Not only did he have an intimidating demeanor, but he also emitted cursed energy. And strong energy at that.

“Well? Can I help you with something?”, the boy asked when Satoru didn't respond.

Gojo snapped back to reality.

“I want to use that machine”, he said, standing tall and speaking authoritatively. He'd grown a lot that year, probably about ten centimeters. He had to use that to his advantage.

“Good for you, but I'm using it. Feel free to wait over there”, he pointed to the door.

Confused, Satoru quickly glanced outside and then back at the boy. "What a rude jerk," he thought. Gojo wasn't used to being told no. And, although he hated himself for it and it contradicted his plans for the day, he played the clan card. After all, the boy with the ridiculous tuft was a sorcerer.

He removed his cap and glasses, locking his blue eyes on him.

“Do you even know who I am?”

The boy looked him up and down.

“An idol? Sorry, not into that stuff”, he said, turning back around.

Flabbergasted, Satoru stepped in front of him.

“I'm Gojo Satoru”, he said, indicating his eyes.

The boy, now annoyed, pushed him aside.

“What a rude introduction. Move, please.”

Satoru, even more perplexed, significantly increased the levels of cursed energy he was emitting. This caught the boy's attention. He widened his eyes and, after a few seconds, said:

“You have...that?”

“Yep. Told you I'm Gojo Satoru.”

“Your name still doesn't ring a bell, but”, he stood up and offered his hand. “...I'm Geto Suguru.”

Suguru had spent years unsure of what to make of his strange gift. He saw people and entities where there were none, heard horrible whispers in the dark, and smelled scents that would scare the vilest pirate. He'd intuitively learned to swallow curses, but he knew very little. He didn't even call it energy. To him, it was just "that." The only person he'd met with the same ability was the teacher from the Curse College who had come to recruit him. But he hadn't really explained anything. It would all come later, he'd said. So, meeting a boy his age with the same thing for the first time was incredibly intriguing.

He observed Satoru for a long time. He didn't want to forget his face.

“Are you gonna let me play or not?”, Gojo asked impatiently. He didn't want to be rude, but no one changes overnight.

“Wow, no manners," thought Suguru as he stared at Satoru, puzzled. Normally, if someone treated him like that, Suguru would either ignore them or tell them off. However, something told him it wasn't time to part ways with this strange albino and his frog-like eyes just yet. He felt their cursed energy made them, on a peculiarly intimate level, comrades.

After a few seconds, he said:

“There's another arcade two stations away with two Street Fighters. Want to go?”

“Why would I need two?”, Satoru asked, raising his eyebrows.

Suguru blushed.

“So we can both play.”

"Idiot," he added to himself.

Gojo stared at him for a moment, blinking as if he were being drenched by a thousand raindrops. This was new for him. Not only had he met a sorcerer who didn't know him, but one his age who was polite enough to invite him to play.

He stood up and walked to the door. Suguru looked at him questioningly, and Satoru turned his head.

“Aren't you gonna lead the way?”

Suguru nodded and hurried. They walked to the metro together in silence, but contrary to what one might expect from such a situation, they both felt strangely comfortable. As if they'd known each other forever.

*

At the next arcade, Gojo noticed he wasn't feeling so great anymore. He checked the time. He didn't have much freedom left. He had about fifty minutes before he’d collapse from the effort of hiding his energy. Plus, it was nearly time for his boring History of Clans and General Sorcery class.

“Ugh, school sucks”, he said, not realizing he’d spoken out loud.

Suguru pointed with a smile at the two Street Fighter machines. They were empty, almost waiting for them.

As they sat down, he said:

“School's not so bad if you focus on your studies and join a club. Which school do you go to?”

Gojo eyed him from under his glasses. Of course, this martial arts student had to be a star pupil. "The shoujo manga class rep stereotype," he thought, continuing to scrutinize him.

Taking his seat, he replied:

“I’m homeschooled.”

Now it was Suguru's turn to scrutinize. "So that's why he has no manners," he thought, watching Satoru pick his nose.

“Too bad. Thought we might run into each other in a tournament.”

Satoru eyed him suspiciously. Too bad? Why was this guy being so nice to him? He didn’t know who he was, so he couldn’t be a kiss-up. And Gojo couldn’t fathom that he was simply dealing with someone genuinely nice. He was too used to cold, sarcastic manners.

“I don’t like sports much”, he said curtly. “Don’t talk to me, I'm starting my game, okay?”

"Yeah, he's an idiot," thought Suguru as he stood up and walked over to Satoru. "I should go study and stop wasting time with this annoying brat, but..."

Suguru hit the button to cancel the albino’s game. Satoru looked at him like he had just heard a dog talk.

“What the...?”

“I brought you here so we could both play. You have...that thing, same as me, and I think...I don’t know. You intrigue me. Can you play with me for a bit?”

Suguru was surprised to say those words and blushed like never before.

Satoru didn’t know what to say. No one had ever asked to spend time with him. People were always around him just because of who he was. Asking for permission to share his time was unheard of.

He didn’t think about it. He was intrigued by this Geto Suguru too. And in a way he couldn’t explain, he wanted to spend time with him. But they were short on time. He checked the time and clicked his tongue.

“I have half an hour. Then I gotta go or I’ll be half-dead.”

Suguru laughed loudly. He had no idea what Satoru meant, but it was funny anyway. And not just anyone could make him laugh like that.

“Alright, Cinderella. I’ll beat you in five minutes.”

He had no idea that Satoru played, hidden under his covers, for four hours every night. That, plus his exceptional brain, made him a whiz at everything he did, including ‘80s fighting video games.

After losing three rounds embarrassingly, Suguru thought it was best to throw in the towel. Not only that, but looking at the time, he realized his parents expected him for dinner in fifteen minutes.

“I think it’s time for me to go”, said Geto, a bit hesitant. He didn’t want to leave. He was having a good time.

Satoru looked at the time and was surprised to feel sad. He had to leave too. Standing up from the machine, he said:

“I have to go too.”

The two boys stared at each other like they were seeing their reflection.

“Wanna walk together?” asked Suguru suddenly.

Satoru nodded. He’d walk to Kyoto with this stranger, honestly.

As they left, Suguru headed to a vending machine.

“What do you want to drink?”

The albino panicked. He’d never had any of those neon-colored drinks before. They were forbidden to him. The strongest had to follow a strict, low-sugar diet.

“The same as you”

“But I haven’t chosen anything yet”, said Geto, confused.

Satoru just looked away. He felt a bit ridiculous, which was new for him. He had been raised to never feel less than the rest of the simple mortals.

Guessing what was happening, Suguru got a Sprite for himself and a Coke for Satoru.

“Hey, heads up!”, said Suguru, tossing the soda to him.

Satoru instinctively activated his technique. Geto watched in amazement as the can was repelled from his body.

“How’d you do that? That was awesome!”

Gojo blushed. No one ever praised his achievements. Being the strongest was his duty. And no one gets praised for simply doing their duty.

“It’s...I was born this way”, he replied, scratching the back of his head. “It’s because of that...thing you have too.

“Can you teach me?”, asked Suguru, his violet eyes wide with hope.

“No. You’d have to be born in my clan and with these”. He took off his glasses and pointed to his eyes as he sat on the ground.

Noticing Suguru’s disappointed face, he added:

“But you’ll learn other things at the school.”

Suguru smiled resignedly, looking at the ground as he sat next to Gojo. He didn’t dare tell him the things he could already do with his technique. For some strange reason, swallowing curses felt dark and ugly, and not just because of their taste. Sometimes he felt something ominous came with keeping so many inside him. Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, seemed beautiful, bright, and natural, as if no one else in the entire universe could carry it with such grace.

Since Suguru wasn’t saying anything, Satoru, a bit nervous, asked:

“You know about the Curse School, right? If not, I can talk to them about you. Next year, I’m starting my first year.”

Geto smiled at him. There was something endearing about what he’d said. His words made him feel welcome at the famous school, even though he hadn’t set foot in it yet.

“Yeah, they came to recruit me a couple of weeks ago. I’m supposed to start my first year too, but...”. He hesitated. “...that day, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go. I said I’d give them an answer by the end of the month.”

Gojo felt disappointed. He had really started to like him. He could get used to those violet eyes and that flamboyant hair. No, he knew he would get used to it.

Playing it cool and while looking at his nails, he asked:

“And now? What do you think?”

Geto smiled at him. Gojo Satoru had become annoyingly charming to him. Maybe leaving traditional education wouldn’t be so bad. At least that curious boy would be by his side. And something told him he wouldn’t regret sharing his teenage years with him.

“Now I’m sure I want to go.”

Satoru felt a smile spreading from the tips of his toes to the ends of his violet hair. He never expected to smile at someone he’d known for less than two hours; it just happened as naturally as breathing.

He took a sip of his Coke and, besides instantly getting addicted to the sugar, felt the familiar twinge in his head. He didn’t have much time left. He had to lie down, or he’d end up passing out. He sighed and glanced at Suguru. He never thought he’d have such a good time that afternoon. He wanted to stay there, not just that day, but all week, month, year. But it was impossible.

Although, he thought, they had four years ahead of them. And who knows how much fun they’d have then. He smiled again. He felt that it would be alright. Very alright.

He stood up and, before leaving, extended his hand.

“See you next year, Geto Suguru?”

Suguru took it and, without letting go, replied:

“See you, Gojo Satoru.”

And so it would be. Even when he was out of sight, out of reach, and out of his life, in the countless memories of their days together, Satoru would see him. He’d see the photographs, the books, and the hair ties he’d leave behind. He’d see his smile, his eyes, and the way he said his name. He’d see, in short, into the intricate and gray soul of that boy who, thanks to ironic fate, he’d come to love inexplicably.

Unbearably.

Infinitely.

And he’d keep seeing him, until his last breath.

🕹️———————————-

Illustration by @ahresprite 🖤

[ohnoitstbskyen]

you say the new DA game had a disastrous first trailer - i don’t keep up with AAA game news that much, what was so bad about it?

i swear i’d google it but it’s unusable these days especially for opinions sorry

Basically, the reveal trailer took a very sorta Marvel-esque (a lot of people compared it to Guardians of the Galaxy) movie trailer tone focusing a lot on "wow look how cool all these badass cool characters are doing cool things ha ha ha jokes and mild self-aware irony!"

Which, to longtime dedicated Dragon Age players, was not quite the tone they were expecting for a game about the Dreadwolf tearing open the veil between worlds in his sorrowful but selfish obsession with a dead civilization. People were expecting the buildup to a dramatic final showdown with Solas, so the tone of the trailer felt entirely out of step with the game that had been built up in the community's imagination over the last many years.

Which, y'know, again, it really looks like BioWare is trying to pitch this game to John Gamer™, so it's neither a surprise nor necessarily a bad move to market it more broadly, but in combination with BioWare firing multiple incredibly key developers responsible for creating the Dragon Age series, industry rumors that Dreadwolf had been in development as a Game As A Service game for a long time, and the new aesthetic which pulls more towards a mainstream stylized fantasy aesthetic and away from the high camp of something like Inquisition... it basically just made a lot of people absolutely terrified that their favourite game series was about to get Anthem'd.

It was a huge overreaction from a lot of people with a lot of anxiety and fear about Dreadwolf being bungled and a lot of feelings bound up in getting a satisfying resolution to the Solas storyline.

[zweetpea]

Chapter 1: Prologue the stardust family

Summary:

This is somewhat a mix of Sagau and genshin Cult AU with some isekai elements thrown in for fun. Key - { } translations and pick is time skip/scene transition.

The broke college student started up their third genshin account. “Hmm, who should I choose this time? Ugh, I wish there was a way to choose both! Hmm, maybe I could hack the code in the game and try to glitch it.” They pulled up the source code and started to mess around “Kate Kaslana? I’ve never heard of her.” Trying to click on the code just brought them back to the game it started to glitch and their screen started to warm outward and inward. 

They reached toward the screen to see what happened and their hand warped straight through. As they tried to pull out their hand got stuck something, or maybe someone, was trying to pull them inside. “No no no no no! Shit!” They fell through and struck the sustainer of heavenly principles. “I’ll deal with you two later!”  She seals the twins and throws them out.

“Now who do you think you are?” 

“Please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry! I was just messing around, I didn’t mean to come here!” 

“You insolent little vermin! I should- I should… I can’t even touch you. Fine, I’ll leave you with this then if you want so badly to experience the world then you’ll have to see it through to the end. I can’t have you dying through, there would be no resets for you. So i bestow my immortality upon you. Rest now, for when you wake you’ll have the glory and debauchery which you desire. You’re also getting a makeover, I’ll match you with the stardust twin.” 

Meanwhile in Tevat the twins woke up 500 years after the fall of Khaenri’ah. 

“Lu? Surge. Age! Surge!”  {Lu? Wake up. Come on! Wake up!} 

(This is Latin, Author-Senpai has made the executive decision that the twins originally spoke Latin [we’ve also decided to be a weeaboo cause this story’s already crack enough why TF not!]<3 as the queen Casey Aonso once said “this is for the Netflix charts, not the art.”) 

{What in the dark realms are you doing} 🤍 

{Thank goodness you’re okay!} 🖤 

{Yeah now get off me stupid!} 🤍 

{Okay, wow screw you too. We should find something to eat.} 🖤 

{No shit, I’ll look for berries and meat. You try to catch some food.} 🤍 

{Alright, I’ll see if I can set up a campfire as well.} 🖤 

{Sounds good.} 🤍 

Our hero (you) watches in an almost lucid dream state as the twins meet paimon and they learn the language of the world. Happy tears fall from their eyes as they see the twins laughing and teasing each other and Paimon. “These two are going to be alright. No matter what happens I did it, they can travel together. I just… wish I could go home, back to my friends and family.” They thought. 

Over time our hero woke up and looked upon themself in the reflection of the ocean. The sustainer of heavenly principles had given them baggy black pants, a white dress shirt with a black tie, a white zipper hoodie that resembles a dragon with gold sparkles around the top and wrists, black combat boots and fingerless gloves bedazzled with stars. They muse to themself, “This is pretty cute.” 

And with that they run after the travelers.

[sipsteainanxiety]

holding out (just for you) [3] || katsuki b.

pairing: dragon!bakugo katsuki x reader

word count: 12.9k+

mentions: female reader, fantasy au, near death experience, descriptions of injuries (blood, some light gore, nausea, poisoning wrt reader), not completely revised akhdfg, aged up chars (24+), sfw, second pov, part of the bnha big bang collab!

with art drawn by the talented @your-fellow-passerine!! here is a link to the original post (give it some love!!!!) <33

side note: there had been some confusion wrt the ending of ch2 when i had posted it so im here to say that bkg did not leave LOL.

masterlist part two

You had a feeling for a while now that Bakugo didn’t like being indebted to you. 

You picked it up from some of his more subtle mannerisms whenever you brought him food or spent hours on end healing him. You didn’t mind, you really didn’t, and you tried telling him as much. But well, if there was one thing you learned about him over all these months, it was that he was a stubborn bastard (and he knew that, too). He could be grumpy all he wanted, though—it wasn’t like you were going to stop.

One day, you were just finishing up on healing the wound near his eye when he decided to puff a small bit of smoke directly into your face. Your nose scrunched slightly as you waved away the cloud with a hand and looked into his eye expectantly. He was lucky his smoke smelled kind of good; you don’t think you would have tolerated him doing it so often if it didn’t. “Need something?”

He made a deep rumble and lifted his head up, your hands dropping away from it as he jerked his chin towards his back. You looked at it curiously. “Oh, do you want me to heal—” 

He cut you off with a light growl and shake of his head. You could only watch him dumbly, not quite understanding even as he appeared to get a bit irritated. He gestured to his back again and gave his wings a little flap, then looked pointedly down at you with another huff. 

“Oh!” You brightened as his actions seemed to click together in your head. “You wanna go somewhere?” He let out a snort and lowered his head to give you a gentle nudge with the tip of his nose. “With me?” A puff of caramel-scented smoke and quick nod was all the confirmation you needed. “Sure, we’ve got time.” The sun wouldn’t set for a while. You stepped around him to tug on your bag and head over to his back, your eyes moving to look for somewhere you could sit atop him. It wouldn’t be an issue if he didn’t have all those spikes in the way. 

Just as the thought crossed your mind, though, Bakugo lowered himself closer to the ground. After a short moment that had you raising an eyebrow at him, he retracted his spikes completely into his body. You stared at his smooth back for a second, then looked at him with bewilderment painted across your features. He avoided your gaze a bit, then flicked his eyes towards you. “Wow! Since when could you do that?!” He only snorted as a response. 

It took a bit of shimmying to crawl your way up Bakugo’s back—his scales were warm like an hearth under your palms and slightly slippery as though coated in a light layer of oil—but you eventually managed to nestle yourself in the crook where his neck met his back. Your legs dangled down from the sides of his neck in a way that reminded you of riding a horse—except your thighs were forced to spread apart much wider. You were going to be sore as all hell tomorrow.  

You rested your hands lightly on his neck in front of you and looked up to see him peering back at you, one slitted, crimson eye sharply trained on your form. You gave him a thumbs up, doing your best to ignore the butterflies fluttering away in your stomach. Were you really about to do this? “Ready!” You guessed you were.

Bakugo chuffed and turned back around as the muscles in his back rolled beneath you. It was an entirely different experience being on top of him as he prepared to take off. Part of you kind of preferred to be on the ground—watching—instead. Your heart shot up to your throat when his wings gave two massive flaps somewhere behind you, and you leaned forward to wrap your arms around his thick neck as much as you could, practically cementing your body against him. 

“Ohhh my goddd,” you choked out, holding on for dear life as he leapt up into the air in a sudden, quick motion and flew up, and up, and up. Your stomach lurched, your hair whipped around sporadically. You almost didn’t want to look down, but you did, and you gaped in amazement as the clearing got smaller and smaller. The forest turned into an indecipherable ocean of green and if you looked to your left, you could see the small houses and buildings that made up Yuuei. 

Bakugo eventually leveled off and started heading in the direction of Mount Kamino. Since his movements were less rocky than they were while he was climbing up into the air, you were able to somewhat let go of his neck to sit yourself up. The wind pushed your hair back and stung at your eyes from being this high, but it wasn’t unbearable. You breathed in deeply, the crisp air filling your lungs, then exhaled it all in a relieved sigh. The warmth of the gleaming sun to your left and the coolness of being at this altitude contrasted against each other, but you felt nothing but the heat radiating from the dragon beneath you.

You stared around in wonder, the vast expanse of blue that stretched on until it reached the silver lining of the horizon. You felt like you could get lost in all that blue, unable to tell left from right or forward from backward. The thought made you suppress a small shiver and you turned your attention to the puffy, white clouds that Bakugo soared by—you couldn’t help but reach out to them, humorously imagining that you could just snatch a chunk off to hold in your hand. 

If you peeked down at the Earth, you could see the moment when the grey of Mount Kamino met the thick forest that surrounded it. Some distance away, you could see Lake Might—a mirror in the ground that felt like a portal to another universe. That you could fall through and end up in another sky not unlike this one. Your eyes moved to skim over the face of the mountain, locating a familiar dark cave atop an equally as familiar slope.

You felt, more than heard, the rumble that quaked through Bakugo’s chest. You raised your head to look at him; he’d turned his head slightly to peer at you from the corner of a glowing, ruby eye. 

“This is amazing!” You laughed out, a silly grin on your slowly numbing face. He snorted and returned his gaze to the front. Where you both were going, you didn’t know, but you trusted him.

You got so lost in watching the green ground pass below you—the way Bakugo’s shadow drifted across the clouds he soared above—that when he started to decelerate and tilted himself downwards, you blinked in surprise. There was a large clearing atop a plateau that he circled around once before he dropped himself down onto it in a smooth landing. You hardly felt yourself get jostled around. He puffed out some smoke and crouched his legs so you could slide off his back, your thighs only slightly sore for now. 

You straightened out your clothes and looked around to see where he’d taken you. It really was just a regular clearing. You wandered away from him and crouched down by a flower sticking out from tall blades of grass. A familiar, cerulean-colored flower, with petals shaped in the form of a star and leaves that reminded you of the hearts Denki would sometimes doodle on the sides of your drink containers. Your jaw dropped open. 

“Zeniths!” you exclaimed as you picked said flower and jumped to your feet so you could spin around to face Bakugo. He was watching you quietly, his eyes flicking down to the Zenith as you scurried closer to him to brandish it eagerly. “You found a clearing!! Shit, look at all this!” You waved your hand out at the seemingly endless field covered in cerulean flowers. “This is enough to last me years!” You turned back to look at him with a wide smile that made the apples of your cheeks hurt. “Thank you! Truly.”

For a moment, all he did was stare down at you. Then he snorted out some smoke into your face and turned his head to look away in a random direction. You only laughed at his reaction and jogged off to start collecting as many Zeniths as you could. You’d have to remember where this clearing was for the future—maybe you could come back on your own.

You took your time to carefully pluck and bundle the Zeniths, wrapping their stems together with string so you could stash them in your bag. At one point, you looked around to see what Bakugo was up to and saw that he’d taken to the skies again—you hadn’t even noticed when he’d lifted off, so absorbed in your work. He was steadily circling around the plateau, clearly enjoying himself, in his own way. 

You wandered over to a particularly rough, bumpy, patch of the plateau and knelt down to gather the Zeniths there. But you paused, for a short second, as you felt a faint tremor through the soles of your shoes. You slowly stood up and waited to see if there would be another, your eyes latched onto the gently swaying grass and flowers below you. One second, two seconds—a faint shake. Three seconds, four seconds. The ground shifted. You furrowed your eyebrows.

And then the Earth erupted beneath your feet.

You let out a yelp as you tumbled backwards onto the grass and dirt, your brain not fully processing what was happening. Your reflexes kicked into overdrive when you noticed a large, dark shadow shoot towards your disoriented form, and you were just barely able to toss yourself to the side to avoid it. A large jaw snapped near your head, missing it by inches. You rolled, heart picking up a frantic beat when you heard a low, raspy hissing. From your periphery, something grey and scaley—covered with flecks of brown and green—gyrated at your side and sunk back into the ground. You stared at where it had disappeared, the Earth a mess of overturned soil that quivered for a second before it stilled. 

You swallowed thickly, breaths bated, and slowly picked yourself up from the ground. You kept your eyes locked on the area around you. And you listened. And you waited. You were scared to take a further step for fear of disturbing the odd silence that had befallen the field, but you forced yourself to slowly inch away from your spot. You licked at your dry lips, a foreboding feeling settling in your chest. Your fingers trembled into fists.

This time, when the ground exploded in a monstrous plume of dirt and grass, you let out a piercing scream and whipped yourself around so you could run. 

Keep your gaze low, you panicked to yourself as you pumped your legs as fast as you could. The terra basilisk let out a hiss that you could hear over your palpitating heart. Its large shadow lunged towards you again. You yelped and dove to the side, a pain bursting along your upper right arm as your hands scraped against rock and rough patches of soil. Still, you couldn’t stop, you couldn’t. You scrambled up and sprinted off towards some trees you could see in the distance, not giving yourself the time to rest for fear of what would become of you if you did. 

You could hear the way the basilisk snaked across the ground after you, the way it dove deep into the soil once more to leave you for a terrifyingly quiet minute. The ground shook minutely behind you, before all went still. You didn’t dare look back to see where it was, keeping your eyes locked on a point in front of you. A crisp pain was starting to manifest itself in your side, just under your ribs. Your breaths came out in quick gasps. 

Still, you ran. 

A column of dirt burst forth into the air to your right. You yelped and ducked down as you lunged to the left to avoid the dark, snapping maw that descended upon your head like the hand of death itself. But just as you pivoted to sprint in a direction opposite of the hole the basilisk had emerged from, your foot slipped on something—made it twist sharply and suddenly. You barely had time to throw out your hands to catch yourself as you went plunging towards the grass. Before you could hit the ground, however, something slammed into your side. 

Hard. 

It threw off your momentum—knocked you into the air—a choked gasp leaving your chapped lips as you soared blindly in a direction you couldn’t make out. Your hair whipped around your face, your eyes scrunched closed as though to brace yourself. You hit the ground with a rough thud and rolled through grass and dirt that tangled around your hair and limbs. Sticks and stones scratched at your clothes, your skin. Your head swam with the motion of skidding across the Earth in a seemingly never-ending whirlwind. A rough grunt escaped your mouth when you finally, finally, felt your back collide with something rough. It forced the wind right out of you—caused a throbbing pain to radiate across your torso. You crumpled into a heap, the energy sapped out of you like a sponge wrung dry.

And through the pounding of your heart in your ears, you heard a thundering, soul-encompassing, roar. 

It reverberated through your very bones, sunk deep into your chest and made your heart skip a beat. You could barely even move. The hammering in your head, along your back, was debilitating. Your lips trembled with the pained groans you wanted to release. The dirt felt cool against your overheating cheeks. You kept your eyes shut tightly, unwilling to look up for fear of meeting the yellowed eyes of the basilisk. All you could do was curl into a ball and listen to the snarls and growls in the near distance. Feel a sudden, sweltering heat that washed along your exposed skin—accompanied by a deep, deep rumble. You bit at the inside of your cheek and pressed your forehead further into the Earth in the hopes that it would swallow you whole.

A shrieking hiss. A vicious snarl. The sound of flesh tearing apart. The steady flapping of large wings that got fainter and fainter and fainter, until all you could hear was the gentle rustling of leaves above you. Peaceful, almost, in a way that made you feel sick. Grass tickled at your neck. Your back throbbed at the slightest of movements.

In the far, far distance, there was a faint crack that was followed by the shrill chirps and caws of birds as they fluttered up into the sky. 

You don’t know how long you lay there, your consciousness flickering in and out like a candle fighting to stay lit in a storm. Your eyes fluttered as you struggled desperately against the encroaching darkness that threatened to pull you under. Eventually, you were jolted awake by a thud somewhere near you that you could feel through the ground. For a moment, your heart stuttered in your chest, worried that the creature behind the impact was one with grey, scaly skin and yellow eyes. But then something gently nudged at your right side. Hot air fanned out over your body, ruffling your hair. There was a familiar, quiet rumbling sound that only became more insistent when you didn’t move. 

You released the groan you’d been choking on and started to shift so you could push yourself up. Your back immediately protested, practically screaming at you to lay down once more. But you couldn’t—you knew you couldn’t, no matter how much you wanted to close your eyes and simply rest. You needed to check the stinging pain you felt on your upper arm, the tenderness in your ankle.  

With muscles tenser than you’d ever felt them before, you propped yourself up on your palms and moved your legs until you were in a crawling position. You blinked hazily down at the dirt and grass beneath you, your chest moving as you took slow, steady breaths in the hopes that they would get rid of the spots of black that lingered across your vision. Bakugo let out a chuff near your head and nudged you again until you shifted, painstakingly slow. God, everything hurts. 

You managed to sit yourself up and lean back against the tree you’d slammed into, your legs extended before you. Just doing that simple action made your head swing dangerously. Inhale, then exhale. You shivered at the gentle breeze that drifted through the air. You closed your eyes for a second, then reopened them to gaze blearily up at Bakugo hovering in front of you. Worried, it seemed, if the way he was chuffing close to your face was any indication. Something dark burgundy was smeared across his mouth, coated his fangs. You swallowed thickly and forced down the sudden nausea you felt crawling up your throat. Bakugo watched you carefully for a moment, then his pink tongue darted out to lick at his maw in a quick motion. You let out a quiet sigh. 

“Did it nick you?” you croaked out once your nerves had settled, your tongue like lead in your mouth. Bakugo huffed out his irritation and nudged your shoulder pointedly. You let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, I should… focus on myself, huh?” Your left hand reached across your chest to press your palm against the stinging part of your upper arm. When you pulled it away, it was coated in crimson—though it was much darker than you’d expected it to be. And when you turned your head in an attempt to peer at the wound, you saw that it was tinged with an inky black. Your stomach dropped. No wonder you were feeling so lightheaded and clammy. 

“Fuck, it got me,” you rasped and pressed the back of your hand to your forehead. It felt warm. You needed to do something, and you needed to do it fast. Bakugo made a low whine as your eyes darted around the grass surrounding you. There were a few Zeniths swaying lazily back and forth a few feet to your left. Perfect. You took a deep breath to brace yourself, then shifted back onto your knees so you could crawl closer to the cerulean flowers. Your back pulsed hotly—you winced and struggled to push through the pain for the brief seconds it took you to reach out and snatch them up in a clumsy hand. 

Bakugo followed you with his head, puffing near your body as he kept an eye on you. The light around you was starting to… look strange. Almost like you were underwater. That couldn’t be good. You sat on your calves and promptly stuffed the Zeniths into your mouth, your jaw working furiously as you chewed them into a paste. It wasn’t the best method of execution to get them to the state you needed, but well, it would have to do. They tasted like… nothing, really. Maybe the vague hint of something that reminded you of honeydew.

You were lucky—really fucking lucky—that you were surrounded by the right flora to aid in healing your injuries and slowing down the spread of the basilisk poison. You dared not ruminate on the dark implications of the plateau housing other… less useful plants. 

You did your best to wipe the blood on your palm on the grass near your knees. There was no time to waste—you couldn’t spare the minutes it would take to get your arm to stop bleeding. As you spat the murky green mush in your mouth onto your left hand and smoothed it roughly over the gash on your upper arm, you felt Bakugo insistently nudge the side of your head. The puffs of air from his nostrils fanned gently against your cheek and tickled your neck. You glanced over to him with an inquisitive hum. Once your attention was on him, he lowered his head so he could nose at the hand clutching at your arm, pointedly huffing at it. His scales felt cool, almost, against your hot skin. That definitely couldn’t be good. 

“What?” you asked confusedly when Bakugo continued his actions. He let out a low rumble and nudged a bit harder at your hand, but you were lost as to what he was trying to say. “I don’t…” you trailed off, blinking heavily at him. You felt tired. You didn’t have the time for this. Bakugo huffed out his irritation and lifted his head away from you so you could see the white glow of his fire at the base of his neck. But instead of releasing it, he let the glow fade and exhaled a cloud of dark smoke. He then leaned towards you again so he could nose at your hands. 

“Your… fire? My hands…?” you mumbled to yourself, trying to get your foggy brain to work enough to piece things together. What did they have in common? Was there anythi— “Oh!” you exclaimed as things clicked together. “My— my magic?” 

Bakugo rumbled and leaned away from you so he could give you an expectant look—though there was something to it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Something that made your insides twist with guilt. He was antsy, you realized, as you spotted the way his tail undulated almost frenziedly behind him. The way his unsheathed spikes bristled along his tensed spine. You bit at the inside of your cheek and turned your gaze away from him so you could inspect your wound. The Zenith mush was just enough to cover it entirely. Good. It wouldn’t take too long for the Zeniths to take effect—but you needed to get back to your cottage soon. You had more effective treatments you could administer there that would help get rid of the encroaching fever and chills. 

You cleared your parched throat and finally looked back at him impatiently waiting. “I ah, forgot to mention that my magic… it doesn’t really work on me.” You didn’t think your avoidance of telling him such information in the cave would come back to bite you in the ass, but here you were. You grimaced when he let out a low growl, his eyes slitting into thin slices. “You were being defensive when you saw— What was I supposed to do? Look”—you took a deep breath in an attempt to reorient yourself—“never mind that. We— We have to get back to my cottage.”

Bakugo made a sound from deep within his chest as you looked away from him and down at your shirt. You still felt lightheaded and your body felt like you’d just stepped out of a funeral pyre. It was exhausting. Focus, you had to focus. After doing your best to wipe the Zenith mush off of your hand, you made quick work out of tearing off a piece of the bottom of your shirt. You wrapped it around your upper arm as tightly as you could, wincing as you used your teeth to help you tie a knot that rested on top of your wound. Fuck, it was sloppy, but it would have to do until you got back home. At least the pain had simmered down to a dull throb.

“Okay.” You nodded to yourself and slowly shifted your legs around until you were in a crouching position. Leaning most of your weight on your uninjured ankle, you paused to take a small breath, then pushed yourself up. 

Immediately, your back spasmed—a sudden and ferocious thing that made you yelp and lurch forward in a reflexive attempt to curl in on yourself. You caught yourself on something in front of you that shifted underneath your torso and poked your stomach. It felt like you could hardly even move. Once you blinked away the darkness that tinged the edges of your vision, you found yourself hanging off the shimmering gold of Bakugo’s snout—practically leaning your entire weight on top of him. Slitted crimson eyes zeroed in on your perspiring face. 

“Shit, sorry,” you gasped out, eyebrows scrunched together as you waited for your back pain to settle down to a dull ache once more. Bakugo let out a rumble and a small puff of smoke that you felt caress the sides of your face. It was strangely… comforting, you guessed. Once you’d managed to collect yourself, you eased yourself off of him, one of your hands delicately resting on the scales of his left cheek as you grimaced down at your ankle. 

The boots you were wearing were thick enough that you were certain your ankle wasn’t dealing with an injury that was too dire. But still, as you tentatively shifted some of your weight onto it, you couldn’t help wincing as it gave a sharp throb. Broken, no, but it was definitely tender—maybe sprained. You sighed. 

“Les’go,” you told Bakugo as you clumsily stepped forward in the direction of his wings, your back hunched slightly to stave off any more spasms. You raised an arm to wipe it across your warm face. If you didn’t make any sudden movements and kept your back tilted, then you could somewhat hobble around. Somewhat. Bakugo puffed out some smoke and lowered himself so that he was resting flat on the ground, his spikes retracting once more. He kept a slitted eye on you, warily watching as you approached his shoulder. 

It took you longer than you would’ve liked to admit to shimmy your way onto his back. The slightest movements in the wrong direction would cause your back to pulse or your ankle to twinge. Bakugo rumbled an anxious little sound as he attempted to help you, the muscles of his back and front leg shifting underneath your scratched up palms to make the incline up his side easier to crawl across. 

As soon as you settled on top of his nape, he gave you one last glance before immediately taking off. You nearly tumbled off him with the force of his jump, your grip around his neck tightening. His wings moved at a rapid pace. The wind stung at your eyes. You grimaced when your back throbbed and leaned forward until your front rested against his neck. His scales felt a bit warmer now where they were pressed against your cheek—that meant the Zeniths were working. Good.

In the far distance, away from the plateau, you caught a glimpse of something long and grey laying on the ground. Terrifyingly still. It made something foul twist its way through your chest. You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the beating of Bakugo’s wings.

You woke up abruptly, your body jostling harshly in a way that made you bolt upright. You regretted it once your back protested angrily, a pained hiss escaping your lips as one of your hands pressed itself somewhere against your lower lumbar region. You felt groggy—sluggish—but at least you were cognizant. A rumble somewhere in front of you made you look up to see Bakugo watching you carefully, his pupil flicking to your hand pressed to your body. And it was then that you realized you were both on the ground—not in the sky. That was fast. 

He’d taken you straight to your cottage instead of the forest clearing, you noticed, as you glanced around. The space you had around it wasn’t large enough to accommodate him. He was mostly standing on top of the soil you used for your garden—you’d cleaned out the area a long time ago. You just hadn’t had the chance to plant anything yet, with all the medicinal responsibilities you were in charge of. He’d tucked his wings close to his body and made himself as small as possible—though even then it was barely enough. It certainly didn’t seem comfortable.

By now the sun had started to creep its way to the horizon, its light painting the walls of your cottage a rich honey color. Slipping off Bakugo’s back was certainly easier than the whole ordeal of clambering on top of it, though once your feet hit the ground you grimaced at the simultaneous waves of pain that radiated through your back and ankle. You mumbled something to Bakugo—a thanks, maybe, you weren’t quite sure—and stumbled your way towards your front door. 

As you reached behind you to grab your key from your bag, you startled slightly when your hand met nothing but air. A quick glance around you let you know it was nowhere in sight. You slapped a hand against your face and let out a groan. You hadn’t even noticed it was gone. Bakugo made a questioning sound in reply—you could hear him shifting closer behind you, feel the hot air that left his nose as you turned around to see his head hovering over you. He’d curled into an even tighter ball, now that you’d gotten off his back. 

“Dropped my bag back at the plateau,” you told him wearily with a sigh. You already didn’t particularly like the prospect of going back there, but well… you really needed those Zeniths. It didn’t help the bubbling, anxious feeling in your gut, though. This was a problem for another day, you decided. “We’ll grab it later,” you mumbled offhandedly and turned back around so you could clumsily swipe the spare key you kept hidden in a flower pot to the side of the door. 

You shuffled inside once the door opened, making a beeline for one of the wooden chairs you had by the table of salves and creams. You collapsed onto it heavily and grumbled when your back gave a sharp pang. There was the sound of huffing and shifting from outside that you paid no mind to for the time being, instead focused on easing your boots from your feet. A groan escaped your lips once you managed to free your aching ankle and a quick inspection of it after you slipped your sock off showed that it was swollen. Great. 

You were lucky that you had some supplies on the table from the last person you’d treated earlier in the day—just thinking about needing to walk over to your bedroom closet to grab them made your ankle pulse with another wave of pain. 

But first—the wound on your arm. 

You made quick work out of unwrapping the bloody piece of cloth from your upper arm, grimacing when it peeled wetly off your wound. You had to awkwardly twist your arm towards you and crane your neck so you could inspect it. The Zenith mush had mostly been absorbed already, eradicating the black tinge of the poison and leaving nothing but the fresh red of blood. You pressed the back of your hand against your forehead and slumped your shoulders in relief at the steadily decreasing temperature. You felt marginally better, certainly, but there was still work to be done. 

You began the tedious process of cleaning your arm up and slathering a poison-specialized salve over the gash to ensure that it wouldn’t still be in your system. You craved nothing more than to just lay in the comfort of your bed, to sleep off the aches and pains—or attempt to, at least. But you couldn’t, not yet. You let out a sigh as you tightened a roll of bandages around your arm and fastened a knot directly over the wound once more. At least you felt cleaner—albeit marginally. 

From outside, you heard Bakugou make a low whining sound that pulled you out of your focus. You lifted your gaze to see him peering at you through your open door. He couldn’t fit his head through the entryway—it was too big—so he had to settle on watching you through one of his eyes, the pupils slitted to make way for gleaming crimson. Once he saw you were looking at him, he chuffed and glanced up and down your seated form. 

“Almost done, it’s okay,” you murmured—to reassure him or yourself, you would never know. You shuffled through some of the ointments on your table until you found a pale pink one. Uncapping the jar, you swiped your fingers through the paste and lifted your shirt slightly so you could spread it lightly across your back. It was a bit cool—room temperature, you knew—and you did your best to cover all the areas that twinged and panged whenever you moved in the wrong way. Bakugo rumbled again and shifted outside your little cottage. Antsy still, you assumed. 

It wasn’t until you were finished coating and tightly wrapping up your ankle that you finally breathed out a sigh in relief. You wiped your hands off on your shirt—you’d need to trash it anyways, with how it was ripped at the bottom—and tentatively stood up from your chair so you could test how much weight you could place on your ankle. It still ached, and your back protested when you straightened up, but they were both much more manageable than they were before. At least you could walk without limping too heavily. 

You made your way over to the open doorway, painstakingly slow, and stopped just before it, bracing one of your hands against the frame. Bakugo huffed out a bit of smoke and raised his head up and away so you could step outside slightly and look up at him. 

“I’ll be fine,” you told him when it became apparent he was waiting for you to say something. He snorted and lowered himself so he could inspect your arm. The hot puffs of air from his nose fanned out along your exposed skin and made a shiver run down your spine. He gently nudged your side until you lifted a hand to rest it on his nose. Your thumb smoothed over the scales there, as though you could make them gleam brighter than they already were. He let out a quiet sound—soft enough that it nearly blended in with the rustling leaves and chirping insects.

You glanced up at the sky—the deep navy that intertwined with the last bits of tangerine from the sun—then at Bakugo, who still looked way too large for your little garden space. “It’s getting late. I need to rest and you need to head back to your own clearing for the night.”

At that, Bakugo made a low rumble and pulled away so he could properly look down at you. He seemed to curl himself into a tighter ball—nestled himself more comfortably in front of your cottage. You raised an eyebrow at him. “You can’t stay here,” you said slowly, but even then he only let out a huff and curled his tail around himself like he was going to sleep there. “No, Bakugo, seriously, you’re too big for this clearing. There’s no way you’ll be comfortable for the night.” 

He didn’t agree with you, it seemed, for he bared his teeth at you in a move that you supposed was to be threatening—but it wasn’t anymore. Not to you. He growled, but you only crossed your arms over your chest and lifted your chin as you held eye contact with one of his slitted, gemstone-like eyes. 

Stubborn bastard, you thought sourly when his gaze didn’t waver after a few moments of silence. Believe it or not, it was actually rather difficult to uphold a glare with a dragon—who knew. But you couldn’t be mad at him for wanting to stay, not really. His intentions behind it made your gaze soften as you let out a halfhearted sigh. 

“Okay, fine,” you acquiesced, your shoulders slumping. “But we really can’t stay here.” He wouldn’t be comfortable and you didn’t want to risk him getting caught camping out in front of your cottage—it would be too much to deal with if you had to explain. You chewed on the inside of your lip as you weighed your options, then tiredly rubbed the bridge of your nose. “Hang on.”

Bakugo made a rumbling sound as you turned around to shuffle back into your home—curious, perhaps, as to what you were doing. You slipped into your bedroom and grabbed a spare blanket from the closet that you tossed onto your bed. Then you rummaged around for some clean clothes and headed over to your bathroom so you could clean up. You grimaced at your reflection in the small, dinky mirror you had—dirt was smeared across your face, scratches littered your skin, and your hair was a mess of bits of grass and leaves. You’d seen better days, that was for sure.

You were quick with doing your best to scrub away all the dirt and tending to some of the deeper scratches on your face and palms. The clean clothes you tugged on made you feel better—fresher—and you swiped away the hair from your face as you tossed your ruined clothes in a corner of your little bathroom to deal with later. You grabbed the blanket you’d dropped onto your bed and shuffled back to the entrance, casting your gaze around the small space of your cottage before you closed the door and hid the spare key back in its flower pot once more.

“Alright,” you said once you turned around to look at Bakugo. He eyed the blanket overflowing in your arms like a cascading waterfall, then puffed out a cloud of smoke. “Let’s go, then.” 

You’d been prepared to make the painstakingly slow journey to his clearing on your own—a process that likely would’ve gotten more difficult as the last vestiges of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon—but it seemed like Bakugo had caught on to what you were doing. He snorted and lowered himself down to the soil-covered ground in front of you, tilting his body so you would have an easier time clambering atop his back. You gave him a smile and did as expected, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck with the blanket smushed underneath you.

His clearing wasn’t far from your cottage—it felt like you’d arrived within two or three flaps of his large wings. Bakugo landed smoothly on the ground and lowered himself so you could clumsily slide off of him. Your back gave a slight twinge, but at least it was much more manageable than it had been before. You patted his side as a thanks and picked your way over to the center of the clearing.

Seems comfy enough, you thought to yourself as you spread your blanket over the ground, patting down any particularly lumpy areas. Then you eased yourself onto it and let out a sigh as you crossed your hands behind your head and stared up at the inky sky. Splatters of white winked at you through the heavens, intermingled with specks of blood red and sunshine yellow. It was just light enough to be able to see, though the moon had yet to show its full face. You could sense the steadily cooling air as it settled across your skin. Maybe you should have brought another blanket.

You could feel, through the ground pressed against your back, the heavy steps Bakugo took as he circled around you. The vibrations made the hairs on your arms stand up—seemed to reverberate through your entire body. You craned your neck up and to the side to watch him settle around you in a crescent moon. He yawned widely, then nestled his head somewhere to your right atop his front legs. You lifted yourself up partially to look at him lying behind you—if you shimmied yourself back by a foot or so, you could rest your head on the smooth scales that made up his underbelly. 

So you did, awkwardly shuffling backwards until your upper body came into contact with the hearth-esque warmth that he radiated from his stomach. He chuffed gently as you made yourself comfortable, wrapping your blanket snugly around yourself like you were the filling in a flaky pastry. From the corner of your vision, you could see something dark curl closer towards you in a manner that made you tense up—his tail (not a snake, no, you breathed easily). 

You relaxed into him and stared up at the sky that was soon obscured by one of his large wings as it sloped over your head. “Happy now?” you murmured, quiet in the open clearing, but loud enough that he heard and made a soft rumble that you felt through his chest. You listened—for a moment—to the sounds of his gentle breathing, the rustling leaves, and the chirping insects, then closed your eyes.

And there—surrounded by the chilly night air, the cold grass that tickled at your skin—you felt warm.

There was a noticeable shift, in the following weeks, regarding the way Bakugo behaved around you. It was so stark—so different—from the way he’d previously been that it was impossible to not pick up on it.   

He started hovering over your cottage during the day—you noticed him through your little window more often than not. He sometimes landed upon the barren area of your garden while you were tending to things inside and peered a giant, crimson eye through the front door you left open for him. You let him so as he pleased for a day or two, but he couldn’t keep lingering around your home—you often had visitors, and you knew it would not bode well for you nor him if he stayed. You worried about the unspoken consequences. 

You told him just as much, but he was still unbearingly stubborn. However, he seemed to understand, albeit reluctantly, and toned down his visits… not by much, though.

In fact, he started flying around Yuuei more—looping around it in a massive circle whenever you were conveniently there for medicinal work or errands. You wondered how he knew when you were in the village, but figured it was easy enough for him to fly over your cottage and see if you were home or not. You did find that you still had a difficult time walking around properly—you were sore and had to use a spare cane in your closet for long treks. You supposed he was just keeping an eye on you, but well, you think you preferred him lingering around your cottage more so than this. It was startling—and a bit ominous to those who didn’t know him (that is, the entire village)—to see him flying so close. Especially since he hadn’t bothered to beforehand. He was not a bird in the sky, but rather he was close enough that you could see the way the tangerine and black markings on his scales absorbed the sunlight that gleamed off him like a shiny coin.

You had to admit, the shadow he cast upon the Earth—large enough to block out the sun and cover people in a darkness that felt just a bit too cold—was more than a bit terrifying. You were sure the villagers were uneased by his presence; you saw the looks on their faces, the way they would keep glancing up at the sky. Wonder and amazement had been replaced by anxiety and trepidation with a beat of his wings.

(“Is it scoping us out?” one villager whispered to another as they lingered under the awning of a shop—hoping the covering would conceal and protect them. “What does it want? My kids think it’s cool but they don’t understand the danger.”

“Mmmh, I don’t know,” the other replied, fidgeting with the bag they grasped in white-knuckled hands. “I hope it’s not… hungry…”) 

You grew antsy—nervous—at the whispers, but you knew if you told Bakugo to stop for the reasons you were thinking of, he would brush off your concerns. He was a dragon—he was strong enough to handle himself but… you knew he would not be unscathed if anyone particularly powerful came along. His still-healing wounds were evidence enough.

Something, however, that struck you a little odd was when you encountered Izuku whilst heading over to treat one of your patients in Yuuei. 

He’d been carrying what seemed like half of the village’s record collection when you—quite literally—ran into him. A waterfall of leather-bound books and scrolls tumbled to the paved ground. You stumbled back a bit, fumbling with your cane and bag of herbs and salves. Apologies spewed out of your mouth until you realized they were being mirrored by a rather familiar voice. Looking up, you were greeted with the sight of curly green hair and flushed, freckled cheeks. 

“I-I’m so sorry!” he stammered out, his hands hovering awkwardly over you as he glanced over your figure. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

“Izuku, I’m fine,” you told him with a small laugh as you straightened up and brushed away his hands. You hadn’t seen him in a while—he was awfully busy nowadays. With what, you weren’t privy to, but you supposed it wasn’t any of your business, not really. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m good— I ah”—he looked down at his feet and stooped down to start picking up his papers—“I should have been paying more attention to where I was going. Sorry—“ 

“It’s okay, really,” you soothed him again. He had a nasty habit of endlessly apologizing for things that weren’t even his fault. You bent down carefully so you could help him gather his things. One of the scrolls you grabbed had a golden seal that looked rather familiar. But before you could observe it more carefully, Izuku had grabbed it from your hands to stuff into his arms once more. 

“So, what—” Izuku cleared his throat as you stacked some books together. They looked handmade, now that you were close enough to see, and a bit worn from use. “What… happened?” 

“Hm?” You raised an eyebrow at him, then saw he was pointedly looking at the bandages around your ankle that poked out from the bottom of your pants. “Oh! I fell. Got my foot stuck around a tree root, sprained it pretty badly.” There was no way you were going to tell him you got injured while running away from a fucking basilisk. It would bring up the question of how you had escaped and, well… You still didn’t want to expose the odd friendship you had with a dragon. Not even to Izuku—and certainly not in public like this. 

“Ouch.” He grimaced and steadily rose to his feet once he’d picked up his belongings—the ones you didn’t grab, anyways. You used your cane to support most of your weight as you gingerly followed him up and meticulously stacked the books in your own hands onto his arms. “Thanks. Hopefully you feel better soon! I imagine being a healer yourself has its benefits.” 

You chuckled and adjusted your bag over your shoulder—it was a spare. “Yeah it does. I’m at least able to alleviate some of the pain with the salves I have. But anyways, where are you off to with all of that? I could hardly see your face poking over all those scrolls.” 

Izuku brightened, as though he was glad you were curious enough to ask. “Ah, turns out Yuuei’s got an amazing historical archive! Did you know All Might used to live here?” 

“Really?” You knew there was a tribute statue to him at the center of the village, but you didn’t really know much else about the swordsman other than that. He’d been a significantly powerful magic wielder, you think. Pretty unheard of for humans, though his time had been quite a while ago, so you weren’t all too sure. You didn’t care enough to do research.

“Yeah! There’s not really a lot of information about him here, though. I found a singular scroll and a few—“ 

Izuku abruptly cut himself off when a dark shadow passed over both your heads, momentarily dousing you in a coolness that was honestly a bit of a reprieve from the midday sun. You looked up to see Bakugo making his usual rounds about the village. His wings leisurely beat up and down, a sound that seemed so pronounced amongst the quiet bustle of the villagers that surrounded you. If you squinted up at him, you could see his giant, crimson eye surveilling the ground beneath him—it didn’t seem like he had spotted you yet. A small smile pricked at your lips. 

Izuku hummed and called your name, prompting you to look back at him. There was a rather contemplative look on his face, to your slight intrigue. Very ruminative. He was quiet for a moment more, then opened his mouth to speak. “You’ve lived here for a while, right? Have you… ever seen dragons around here before?” His voice was low and sounded… distant. Like he wasn’t exactly with you at the present day. 

You shook your head. “Not really. Why’re you asking?” 

Izuku stayed silent—to the point where you considered leaving him and seeing if he would notice—then seemed to snap out of his thoughts. He blinked a few times, then looked back at you with wide eyes. “Sorry! Gotta go! Can’t keep the missus waiting!” 

You were bemused, but waved him off all the same. He scurried away from you, occasionally glancing up at the sky as he left. Izuku certainly was… quirky, that was for sure. You sighed and looked back up at Bakugo to see him circling around Yuuei once more, a bright, crimson eye trained on your significantly smaller figure. You huffed lightly through your nose and set off to your intended destination. You brushed off Izuku’s strange behavior easily enough. Besides, you had more pressing matters to deal with…

Bakugo was worried, you knew he was. What had happened at the plateau was something you tried not to ruminate upon too heavily, but well, it was hard when your back still ached and your ankle still twinged. If you closed your eyes for too long, you could picture the grey scales of the terra basilisk, hear the slithering sounds it made as it chased you. But you didn’t let it affect you—tried not to. You pressed on and drowned yourself with work—with healing the rest of Bakugo’s wounds and tending to your duties as village healer. It worked, most of the time. You didn’t dare linger—didn’t dare let yourself be on your own in the silence for more than a few moments. 

And maybe Bakugo could see right through you—maybe he could tell you were avoiding addressing things. Maybe that was why he didn’t really leave you alone. 

Now that he knew you were fine with sleeping in his clearing with him, he often wanted you to go there when evening fell. You didn’t mind, not particularly, though you definitely couldn’t go there every single night—you had things to do back at your own cottage. You sometimes got visitors for illnesses that onsetted or exacerbated overnight, so it was always best for you to be at home and ready. You entertained him when you could and drank a special tea you purchased at the market to help you have a dreamless sleep. But it could only work for so long, you knew. It was a problem for the future.

You did, eventually, have to face part of your fears. Bakugo took you back to the plateau a week or so later to retrieve your bag. It was inevitable and you were aware that he had been patiently waiting for you to approach him the entire time. You were reluctant and dragged your feet for quite a while, but eventually you steeled your resolve. You would be fine, you told yourself. You would be fine.

And you were… for the most part. 

The moment your feet came into contact with the grass of the plateau, you felt unsteady. Disconnected. You knew the basilisk had been taken care of and yet, you still felt stifled. Like there was a pillow pressing into your lungs, filling your throat and mouth with cotton. You took a deep breath and picked your way over to your bag, avoiding the overturned patches of grass and dirt. Bakugo trailed behind you like a large, deadly shadow. His head hovered just over your shoulder—so that you could feel the warm puffs of air from his nostrils. It was grounding. 

You wasted no time in snatching up your bag and checking to see that it contained a decent amount of Zenith flowers—there was no need for the entire experience to be a waste. It would make you feel even shittier than you currently did. After stuffing a few more Zeniths into your bag, you clambered back atop Bakugo and let him take you home. That was enough adrenaline to last you a lifetime. You definitely wouldn’t be returning anytime soon… 

He made you stay with him that night again, curling around you as you rested on the ground and stared up at the inky sky. You spent some time pointing out some of the constellations you knew of to him, the cool air hardly noticeable from your position surrounded by the warmth he naturally radiated. You lost yourself in telling him stories that you scrounged up from the deepest depths of your brain, hoping that they would serve you well in distracting your mind from the darker path it wanted to veer towards. 

“—so when Vivithia gave her life to guide those crossing the border to safety, the Gods took the dust from her remains and scattered them across the sky,” you told Bakugo quietly, not daring to break the tranquility of the clearing, “forming the stars we see today. At least, according to legend. It is ultimately a tale of sacrifice—and love, if you think about how her lover was able to survive due to her actions.” 

Bakugo snorted out a puff of dark smoke that you watched dissipate towards the sky, spreading amongst the stars. “There are different versions of the story that I’ve heard, but they all end the same way.” You craned your head back so you could peer at him curiously. “I don’t suppose you have legends like that, do you?” 

He rumbled idly in a way that made you wonder if he was tired. The moonlight gleamed off his scales in a way that made them look opaque—pearly, almost. His eyes, half-lidded from where his head rested on his front legs, were like a pair of smoldering coal, ready to be put out for the night. You returned your gaze to the glistening sky. “Yeah, you probably can’t tell me anyw—” Something caught your eye. 

It was stark against the twinkling whites and deep navy of the night sky—a burnt golden speck that kept getting larger and larger. Bakugo made a noise and shifted when you didn’t say anything else, curious. You tilted your head and sat up, squinting at the speck until it got close enough that you could reach a hand out to touch it. 

“Oh!” you said in pleasant surprise when you felt something graze your fingers. You pulled your hand back closer to your face to inspect the little insect that sat on it. “A lightning bug!” 

The bug was a small thing that radiated light from underneath its fuzzy body. Two large eyes peered at you, its antenna twitching slightly as it crawled along the back of your fingers and hand. It kind of tickled. 

Bakugo huffed in a manner that caused you to look up towards him. It seemed like a small swarm had ventured into the clearing: there were more lightning bugs flying around his head—little specks that brought along some warmth to the coolness of the surrounding forest. Some of the bugs had settled atop his nose and were crawling up along it. You grinned; he didn’t look all too amused. 

“Careful,” you warned him when his lips parted to bare sharp teeth at the insects that scattered around him. “They’re called lightning bugs for a—” One of the bugs grew brighter and brighter until a small bolt fired from it, hitting Bakugo’s nose with a small zap! He jerked his head back—almost in offense—and puffed out a cloud of dark smoke. You bit your lip to keep yourself from laughing. “…reason.” 

You smiled and looked around at the dots of warm, honey-colored light that floated around the area. You lay back down on the ground with a sigh. “It’s nice being able to come out in the forest and encounter different kinds of magical fauna, you know?” Your eyes followed a lightning bug as it bumbled across your field of vision. “It’s different from the capital,” you murmured, then frowned, “though actually I… haven’t really seen many fairies around recently. They usually like to cause mischief. I wonder…” 

Bakugo snorted in response and you looked at him to see him resting his head back on the ground. He yawned widely—content with ignoring the lightning bugs for now. It was getting pretty late. You wrapped your blanket around your body and slid closer to his warmth. You spent a moment just watching the flickering golden lights before your vision was obscured by a large, ombré wing. Well, that was a sign as any. You decided not to dwell on things for now. 

“Yeah, time to sleep”—you yawned back at him and closed your eyes—“Good night, Bakugo.” 

A few weeks later, you were out in the village running your usual errands when you noticed something… strange. 

You would like to say that some of the tension at having Bakugo constantly circling around the village had dissipated by now. Or, at least, you didn’t see as many people nervously glancing up at the sky anymore. It seemed they had just needed to see that he wasn’t much of a threat and in fact didn’t really… do anything to anyone. You supposed time had a hand with easing nerves, but you were sure they were still present—just not as prevalent. 

That being said, it came as a surprise to you when you saw people murmuring to each other in little groups—looking around them as though afraid they might be overheard. You were curious as to what they were conversing about—but well, they weren’t really looking up at the sky so you supposed it wasn’t in relation to Bakugo. He had eased up his circling around the village by now—seeing that you were doing quite better. Your back only twinged when you did sharp motions and you were walking around with just a slight limp—barely noticeable, really, unless someone was looking for it. Though, you were sure Bakugo would be flying around you if he could—you saw him circling around Mount Kamino earlier, perhaps for a change in scenery.

You finally understood what the whispers were about when you passed by the Blacksmith’s shop. 

He was there talking to Aizawa—a tired man with a nasty case of dry eye whom you visited on occasion to supply with special eye drops. It was hard not to notice him, with how heavy-built he was. He loomed significantly over Aizawa, who exchanged curt words with him whilst bathed in his shadow. He looked prepared for a fight, decked out in thick clothing with just as thick silver armor covering every part of his body. A large sword—the blade wider than your head and thrice as long as your own arm—lay sheathed across his back. It made a shiver run down your spine. 

When you walked past them, you were able to see a bracelet strapped to the man’s right wrist. It was made of leather, and sitting atop it was a large jewel. Mellow tangerine in color and very… vibrant. There was something… odd about it. Something that made you feel like a hand had grabbed your insides and twisted them about. But you couldn’t exactly put your finger on it. 

A chanced glance up at the man’s face allowed you to see the pinched glare settled across his features—the scar that marred the left side of it. You averted your gaze before he could notice your staring and scurried down the stone path to a familiar pub. 

The moment you entered through the doors, Denki looked up from where he was cleaning the bartop and dropped the rag in his hands. 

“Did you hear the news!?” he instantly shouted at you, then quieted down significantly at the looks he got from some of his customers lounging around in the booths. 

“Hear it? More like I saw it,” you whispered as you slid onto a stool in front of the bar. You leaned in closer towards him. “What the hell is King Enji doing here?” 

“I have no idea,” Denki whispered back, his golden eyes peering widely into your own, “but Hanta told me he’s staying at his inn, so he’s definitely planning to be here for a bit.” 

“When did he get here, do you know?” You didn’t remember seeing him when you were in the village a few days ago. 

“Earlier today, I think.” He shrugged his shoulders. “That’s when I started hearing people talking about it, anyway. Is it true he looks like he’s about to go to war?” 

You nodded. “Yeah. I just saw him talking to Aizawa about something.” 

Denki snorted. “Aizawa’s not gonna tell him shit, he hates any and all royal families.” 

You let out a pfft. You didn’t blame him, honestly. From what you’ve seen of the royal family of the capital—King Enji’s, in fact—they were… not quite regarded in a good light. “Do we even know what he wants?” 

“No idea,” Denki replied worriedly. He picked back up the rag and started cleaning at a stain—perhaps for something to do with his hands. “But it can’t be anything good.” 

You hummed your agreement, then fell quiet as you ruminated. It was quite odd to see someone like King Enji this far from the capital. He didn’t seem like the type to make such a voyage recreationally; there had to be a reason. The way he was dressed only made that twisted feeling in your stomach more pronounced. You didn’t know how fast news spread across regions, but, well… You weren’t stupid. His appearance—his awfully weaponized appearance—said enough. 

You worried, more than you should—and you knew this worry was not unfounded. You glanced out of one of the windows of Denki’s pub and frowned at the hazy sight of Mount Kamino. Dread seemed to pool in your gut.

You left with a quick farewell to Denki and an excuse that you had more shopping to do. The trek back to your cottage was a bit of a long one, but it went by faster than usual as you hurried down stone paths and kept your eyes peeled for any more glimpses of King Enji. He had disappeared elsewhere—you didn’t know whether to feel relieved or anxious. 

You wondered if Bakugo would even be in his clearing, if he had even gotten back yet from his leisurely roaming, but you heard him even before you broke through the tree lining. He looked up as you walked towards him, your eyes automatically sweeping across his wounds to make sure they were fine (they were), then looked away to continue idly stretching out his back and wings. 

“Hey”—you cleared your throat—“I’m gonna preface this by saying I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself,” you started as you stopped in front of him. He tilted his head towards you with a chuff to let you know he was listening. You bit at your lower lip for a moment, then released it. “But I was in the village earlier and King Enji was there talking to peop—” 

His head snapped towards you so fast you wondered if he got whiplash. You cut yourself off abruptly at the snarl he released, your eyes widening as he reared his head back and exhaled a plume of dark smoke. You blinked at him in surprise and stepped back when his wings fanned out behind him, his spikes bristling angrily. “Whoa! What? Something wrong? You don’t like him?” You hadn’t seen him react this viciously to something in a… while. 

Bakugo hissed, his eyes shrinking into carmine slits. He gave his wings a few pointed flaps, then stomped his hind leg—the one that had a wound close to it. You stared at the tender scarring on his flank for a moment, your jaw dropping open. 

“Oh shit,” you whispered, “is that how you got those?” A rough growl was all the confirmation you needed. 

Your heart sank; there was only one reason why King Enji would be in Yuuei. It seemed like your worries had come to fruition. You rubbed at the bridge of your nose, suddenly tired. “He’s so power hungry that I’m somehow not surprised. He must’ve heard the news once you started flying around.” You had questions that could not be answered, but that was the least of your worries. Your main concern was what now? You took in a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to deal with an irate dragon. 

“I don’t think,” you started slowly, “it would be a good idea for you to… be here, right now.” 

Bakugo didn’t seem to particularly like what you were saying. He looked taken aback for a split second—if you hadn’t been carefully watching him you wouldn’t have noticed—then bared his teeth at you in a snarl. He moved so that his head loomed over your significantly smaller form, slitted eyes daring you to say another word. You held your ground. “Look, I already said I know you can handle yourself, but I really think laying low or— or even going somewhere else might be the right thing to do here.” Bakugo snapped his jaw in disagreement. “Your injuries are mostly healed, but not fully, and I worry that anything… strenuous might tear them open again.” 

The growl he let out was nearly thunderous. He reared back on his hind legs, fanning out his wings to make himself appear larger. He gave them a singular, large flap—purposeful. Powerful. You raised an arm up to cover your face as it sent pieces of grass and dust swirling about in the air. He huffed out a plume of smoke that washed over your body and filled your nose with the smell of burnt caramel. When he landed back on his raised legs, you felt the impact shake through the ground. You frowned. 

“I know you’re strong,” you told him again gently, “but it’s okay to run sometimes, y’know? It’s not worth dealing with him—“ 

His snarl bordered on a tumultuous roar, his tail lashing out behind him with a fervor that made you only a bit uneasy. He was getting really angry—was what you were saying that unreasonable? Or was there something else at play here? You didn’t know, you didn’t know.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him again, worry tinting your voice. He made a deep rumbling sound from his chest, his body tensing. “Why are you acting—”

He didn’t even wait for you to finish your sentence. With two large motions of his wings he’d taken to the skies, the generated wind whipping your clothes and hair around like you’d been caught out in a deadly storm. 

“Bakugo!” you called out helplessly, your voice getting lost in the repetitive flapping of his wings as he flew further and further away—towards Mount Kamino. There was a moment where all you could hear was the rustling of the trees around you, the occasional chirp from the wildlife that frolicked within the leaves. Your shoulders slumped and you ran a weary hand down your face. 

There was something wrong and you had no idea what.

You made the slow trek back to your cottage, heavily contemplating Bakugo’s reactions and what they may mean. You didn’t have a single clue, unfortunately, and his clear anger left you in a funk. You couldn’t really concentrate on anything. You kept an eye on your windows and often went outside to look up at the blue sky for a hint of gold, but Bakugo kept to himself. You spotted him flying around Mount Kamino on occasion—disappearing beyond it at times—so you knew he hadn’t left, but it still bothered you. Surely he wasn’t pissed at you for showing concern, right? You couldn’t be entirely certain. Everything just seemed to spiral out of your control.

You didn’t see him for the rest of the day and your restlessness carried into the night as you lay by yourself on your little cottage bed. You supposed he just wanted time on his own, maybe to stew in his own frustrations and whatever the cause for them may be. You understood, you did, but still… 

Stupid dragon, you thought to yourself as you rolled over and buried yourself in your blankets. 

The following day, you went about your usual routine with as minimal distractions as possible. You kept an eye out for King Enji while you were walking around in Yuuei and spotted him talking to a few more villagers here and there. You were caught between feeling relieved and nervous, though you didn’t let yourself linger around him for more than a few moments. 

It wasn’t until evening was about to fall that you heard familiar flapping just outside your cottage before the ground shook nearly imperceptibly. Your heart seemed to jump up to your throat as you paused from cleaning up some dishes. Was he—? You looked over at your windows and wiped your hands on your clothes before you speed walked over to your front door to open it with surprising vigor. 

“Finally back, huh?” you murmured with a raised eyebrow, trying not to show exactly how relieved you were that he had specifically approached you first. Bakugo rumbled as he curled himself in front of your cottage, his head lowering slightly so he could look at you properly. You reached out to rest one of your hands against his nose and smoothed over the scales there with your thumb. “Calmed down?” Being on his own must have worked wonders if he was no longer as angry as he had been yesterday. 

He snorted out a light cloud of smoke into your face and gently nudged at you with his head—his own little way of apologizing. You exhaled through your nose. “You’re really a piece of work to deal with, you know that?” He snorted again as though to say I know, then drew his head away and gave you a steady look. You tilted your head in curiosity. “Something wrong?” 

There was a moment where all he did was stare at you—a prolonged gaze that made you feel like you could be sucked into the deep carmine of his eyes. It was strange; like you were being analyzed or assessed—stripped down to your very soul. Then, he made a click from his chest and lifted his head higher. Your gaze was drawn to the base of his neck—watching as it glowed angel-white in that familiar way when he had roasted the food you’d brought him. Except, it just kept growing brighter and brighter and brighter—to the point where you had to shield your eyes with your arm, a confused “what?” escaping your lips. And as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Your eyebrows were furrowed when you lowered your arm. Then they shot up in surprise. 

There, gripped in the claws of one of his front legs, was a gem. 

It was a deep, iridescent crimson that matched the color of his eyes—a glimmering pool of blood that radiated a heat like no other. There was something electrifying about it, something that made the soft hair on your arms stand up straight. It seemed to pulse with power; gleamed brightly even in the steadily darkening environment. The gem was about the size of your head, maybe smaller, but it was gripped easily in Bakugo’s claws like he was holding a ripe apple. You were dumbstruck staring at the gem—it was like you couldn’t pull your gaze away from it. Like it was sucking you into its core, demanding that all your attention stayed on it. You swallowed thickly. You understood, at that moment, why dragons were so powerful—why they were hunted. 

“That’s… You’re…” you trailed off as you stared—mesmerizingly—at his gem. You had to steel your resolve and tear your gaze away from it to look up at Bakugo. He nudged your arm with the claws holding onto his gem, purposely. You blinked, wide-eyed. “You’re… giving it to me?” Suddenly, your mouth felt like it was coated in cotton. Your heart seemed to still in your chest. 

He was waiting, patiently, for you to do something. Your movements felt stiff as you looked at the gem, then back at him. Once, twice. And you found the strength somewhere within you to reach out and grasp the gem in clammy hands. It was heavy—like a sack of flour—but you held on tight and brought it close to your chest. It seemed to hum in your palms; made you feel like you were standing next to a large bonfire. Confusion plagued your thoughts—sent them racing around your head. 

“But— but why…” You tore your gaze away from the gem once more to look back at Bakugo. He was watching you carefully, a gleam to his rounded eyes that you couldn’t quite make out. “Why are you…” It was then that you noticed he had shifted: his wings had moved to fan out behind him, his legs were tensed like he was a breath away from jumping into the air. Something seemed to click in place and you went still. “Wait— you’re leaving?” 

He rumbled a noise that only made your heart sink. This, you feared, would not be like the previous day where he’d simply needed time to himself. No, this was something more. Something that you worried would not leave him unscathed—that was perhaps inevitable. And maybe it was something in your expression, your stance, but he lowered himself back down until his head pressed against your front. You cradled the gem in one hand—near your heart—and used the other to hold his head closer. 

“You’ll be back, right?” you asked in a quiet voice. Bakugo nudged you gently with his head and puffed a cloud of smoke at the gem in your hand—a reassurance, a promise. You didn’t know why you were so… affected by everything. Why your chest ached like it was full of water. Deep down you always knew he would eventually have to leave—but you didn’t think it would be this soon. That King Enji’s presence would be the catalyst of it all. You loathed him for it like you loathed him for all the bastardly deeds he had no doubtfully done as king. You thought you had more time. 

And—not for the first time—you wondered why. Why was he doing this, why was it important that he did? Why, why, why. You didn’t have any answers and it didn’t seem like you would be getting them anytime soon—if not ever. It all just… seemed so much bigger than you. Like it had always been from the moment you’d encountered Bakugo in that dark, dark cave. He was a dragon and you were, well… you. 

But you knew what you had to do. 

You would protect Bakugo’s gem—keep it safe for him to avoid having it fall into the wrong hands during… whatever was about to happen. This, you could do with utmost certainty. 

You let out a shaky breath, then stood on the tips of your toes so you could press a kiss to Bakugo’s forehead. It was like kissing a stone smoothed down from the elements, a warm mug filled with hot tea. It was the last thing you could give him, for now. You don’t think he had expected it, for he made the smallest of sounds, then seemed to press further into your touch. 

“Stay safe, okay?” you whispered to him once you’d pulled away. He leaned back so you could stare into his eyes. “I never got to fully finish healing you, after all. You should be fine but, well, I don’t wanna have to patch you up again.” You kept your voice light to let him know you were teasing him. 

Bakugo snorted and with one final, long look at you, he spread his ombré wings and took off. You watched, squinting against the wind he generated, as he rose into the sky in the direction of Yuuei. He disappeared beyond your line of sight once he passed over the trees—but you still heard the loud roar he let out. Felt it reverberate in your bones; a declaration of war. You gripped onto the gem more tightly than before and stood there watching the darkening sky as it transitioned from burnt mandarin to royal purple. It was a moment before Bakugo passed back overhead—a dark shadow against the twinkling whites of the galaxy—this time in the direction of Mount Kamino. 

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh that only the stars could hear. Then you turned around and headed back inside your little cottage, closing the front door behind you with a small click. 

part four

[cruel-acid]

BIRTHDAY BOY OC CARD

A birthday is the perfect chance to introduce a new OC to you, right? This is Raud, he’s a first year from Scarabia and he’s twisted from Hookfang from How to train your dragon! Yes here I am making OCs inspired by Dreamworks for a Disney game hehe

Voice lines below the cut

When summoned: Wow, a party just for me?.. Yeah, no. Sorry, not good at playing pretend.

Summon line: I don’t have much experience with birthday parties. Is it always this crowded?

Groovy: You want to give me a…present? You didn’t have to. But, I’ll take it. Thanks.

Home: Are birthdays really that big of a deal for people our age? I’ll keep that in mind then.

Home idle 1: I know Kalim wanted to make this a “surprise party”. But he planned it so loudly I knew about it a whole week before.

Home idle 2: I don’t like sweets, so I usually skip on them. Ruggie was happy to have my share of the cake.

Home idle 3: Ace and Deuce almost got in two fights already during this party. What muttonheads.

Home idle - login: You here to celebrate my day, too? Enjoy the party, I know others put a lot into planning it out.

Home idle - groovy: I’m not used to high class dishes. Nice that Jamil prepared something familiar and simple.

Home tap 1: The Hunter gave me the skull of Cinnyris loveridgei. Should I be more concerned on where he got it from or how he found out I wanted to add it to my collection?

Home tap 2: I don’t understand the purpose of inviting so many people. Isn’t it supposed to be a celebration with your closest? I can tell at least half the Scarabia students here don’t like me….

Home tap 3: This origami looks complicated. Must have took a lot of time and effort. I should thank Evan… Later. In private.

Home tap 4: Back home, we weren’t able to get any celebration with the previous chef. Sad I can’t have my second birthday party there with family.

Home tap 5: Jamil gave me a new axe. That’s a good present. Very practical.

Home tap - groovy: These fancy clothes don’t look like they’re worth wiping the oil from my hands… Do you have a tissue I can use?

[devilheartsblog]

I watch World of Winx,this is what I have to say about Season 1

Before anything I’m considering WoW it’s SEPERATE CANON. No Alfea, no Dragon Flame, no Black Circle, no Earth Fairies. But I will touch on the connections to the show in a later point.

Let’s start with the things I like. The concept is alright, I was doubtful but after watching the show it made more sense. Some new characters like the talents, Ace, the Queen and Shaman were fun and I like the variety for the talents. Roxy was quite enjoyable too (until she went on a mission with Bloom and it felt like she was her apprentice again despite them seeming to be the same age). The way the Winx use their powers outside of battle was refreshing and it’s nice to see how they can read different auras, and I love Aisha using water, I just like elemental magic a lot so yea. I also quite liked Bloom arguing with ace and the build up to her getting fired, but the toupee thing was stupid.

Now the things I don’t like which there is a LOT. So brace yourselves guys. There are a lot of plot holes such as Bloom not revealing her fairy form to Jim but Naoki (the talent geek) is okay because I guess he likes comics?? Also Detective Evans and Gomez aren’t a main focus despite being important, and it’d be more interesting if they were Anabelle’s friends as her flashback shows a blonde woman and brunette guy. Some other plot points are references to Winx Club such as Bloom coming up with the name, the girls only being on Earth for months, and Roxy and Bloom having relations outside the club. Which, guys girls and nbs, makes me wonder WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE WIZARDS? Ogron get yo ass over here and capture Roxy you stupid f- It seems like the show wants to be its own thing but has to be like “hey remember they’re the Winx Club” which makes even less sense. There’s also the travelling problem with how going from Paris ro Beijin is a van drive away and Beijing to London is a 2 minute walk. And going from California to Switzerland is just around the corner. Makes you wonder how Jim got to all those places so easily.

Other than that Crocodile man was annoying past the 3rd episode, like please someone turn him into a purse. And while the Winx use their powers in unique ways outside of battle, in battle they suck hard. Flora uses the same vine spell on Crocodile Man 4 TIMES, is she stupid? And honestly a lot of the plot feels dragged out because of the battles if you ask me, especially Crocodile getting away with the watch about 3 times.

I’m dedicating Dreamix to its own section because where do I start. First off, I don’t like the designs. The outfits are too glam for battle and the wings are so over-detailed it’s gross and would be better fit for a live action effect. The transformation sequences are also pretty bad. The girls just sit around as magic dust gives them accessories, which just makes me miss season 1-4’s transformations. And the way they earn them is so…like why bother showing them earn it? Dreamix just happens out of nowhere, they didn’t do shit why should they get Dreamix? At least Mythix and Butterflix are earnt.

I think I’ll stop here otherwise the post will be a bible’s testament worth of complaints. Show’s okay. First half of season 1 was good but then someone invited a season 4 writer and now everything’s about Bloom. So yeah, see you guys on the flipside!

[gamerbearmira]

(I forgot about Winx AU)

The grandkids were looking around awed and curious as they were ushered into their seats with the teachers during the Day of Royals.

"Remember. Always stay with an adult you know. If you need or want to do anything just tell one of us." Faragonda was assuring her grandkids and she noticed Saladin was staring at them.

"These must be the mysterious and beloved grandkids I've heard about." Saladin said grinning at them and they all looked at him.

"Wow you're older than granny!" Camilo said and was promptly elbowed by his older sister while Isabella and Mirabel snickered.

"Actually. I'm the same age as her and Griffin and Griselda." Saladin said smiling and amused, he missed blunt children.

"Tia Griselda?" Dolores squeaked surprised at that.

"I was Faragondas roommate in school." Griselda admitted amused.

"But you look younger than mama!" Mirabel gaped at the woman who smirked and patted the girls head.

"Right well...are you looking forward to the events?" Faragonda asked as Griffin tried to smother her laughter while Griselda radiated smugness.

"I wanna see the dragons!" The children were near cheering in unison at that, their little faces alight with eager glee.

"Not the sword fights?" Palladium asked from in front of them.

"Who wants to watch a bunch of dumb boys hit each other with sharp sticks?" Isabella asked confused and Saladin choked at how she described it.

"She's got a point." Griffin grinned at that and Faragonda sighed.

"Stop trying to corrupt and steal my grandkids!"

"Never!"

So did I 🌚 TIME TO RUN IT BACK‼️‼️

The kids being excited about the dragons though is so real. Shoutout to all the teachers/headmasters being cool with the kids. I mean they don’t really have much of a choice but like it’s the thought that counts 💀💀

But like who would wanna watch sword fighting. It gets boring if it drags on, at least with fencing it’s pretty quick. Unless that swording fighting is to the death, you best believe them kids is going to see dragons instead, given the opportunity 🙏

[dreadfutures]

Fan Work Friday

Rules: If you’re tagged, MAKE A NEW POST to showcase one fanartist and/or fanfic for any fandom you recommend (with links), and tag someone to give their recs next! Don’t forget to reblog the rec you were tagged in, and include these rules! :)

Bonus: Choose works by people you aren’t super tight with, or choose older works that maybe haven’t gotten some love in a while. :)

Fanartist: @kiivg

The first time I saw one of kiivg's pieces, I had the thought: I've never seen anything like this. Then I did a double-take, because even though I can't pinpoint it, this style strikes me as quintessentially storybook. It should be on the cover of a comic, or it should be a bonus chapter illustration in your favorite novel--both because of the striking style and the amount of STORY King packs into each single standalone piece.

The first of King's works I saw was one that I consider really KING now: oriented so that I had to tilt my head to get the full picture. I find it only pulls me in deeper, looking really closely at every detail before I get the full picture. Here's one of my favorites (give it a reblog!):

Definitely give King a follow. When they do post art, they have plenty of Dragon Age, Cyberpunk, and BG3 art to wow you with!

Fanfic: its free son - SlinkySpiders

The note I had in my bookmarks was: "there are elotes in gotham and this author is my hero"

SURPRISE this is a fanfic for the Robert Pattinson The Batman film, which I think is a nearly perfect hopepunk movie, and the first Bruce Wayne I've ever seen on film who NEEDS A ROBIN. So here, have a batdad and his kid.

I love an awkward man trying his best to be a parent to a kid who has the same problems he did. Let's parent our inner childs through real children, that's my weakness. Also, Dick gets to be childhood friends with Barbara Gordon, so that's great.

It's "unfinished" but I think it does just fine for what it is, and I hope people enjoy!

Rating: G Pairing: Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne & Alfred Pennyworth, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne Chapters: 2 (unfinished) Length: 11,678 Summary: Three years after the events of the Riddler, Bruce finds himself taking care of an eleven-year old, completely out of his depth.

That's my post for this week! I'm excited to see what everyone tags me in. It's been great to find new artists and fics through this game. :)

Tagging:

(again, for any fandoms! let's spread the positivity <3)

@thedreadblog | @noire-pandora | @wolfsskull

@demarogue | @thevikingwoman | @anneapocalypse | @fiadhaisteach | @victoriousscarf

@kiastirling

@warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @bluewren | @breninarthur

@ar-lath-ma-cully | @inquisimer | @crackinglamb | @theluckywizard | @nirikeehan

@oxygenforthewicked | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @melisusthewee | @blarrghe | @delicatefade

@leggywillow | @about2dance | @plisuu

[anneapocalypse]

DAI Companion Styles: Josephine

Dragon Age Companion Styles Series

Next up by special request from @magneticmage is the lovely, the gracious, the refined, the stunning Josephine Montilyet, Ambassador to the Inquisition. (And yes, Josephine is an advisor, not a companion; yes this series is called “Companion Styles”; yes I’ve decided to just lump the advisors in with them and not change the name, and we’re all just going to have to live with it. 😉)

Disclaimer: I am not a fashion expert, dress historian, or professional designer! I'm just a gamer who likes to sew and has a casual interest in historical fashion, and a great interest in fantasy worldbuilding and the implications thereof, and that's where I'm coming from on these posts. I'd also love to hear thoughts from fans who have a more in-depth background in historical dress, textiles, and armor.

Also, we’re going to be talking about gendered clothing, so let me state for the record that I don’t believe clothing has any inherent gender. However we’re going to be talking about fashion in a cultural context here, and in the context of Thedas (and specifically Orlais), fashion is heavily gendered, and how characters engage with those gendered expectations can be personally and socially interesting.

As with Sera, I’m going to be focusing mostly on Josephine’s style from an in-universe perspective because that’s what I think is most interesting!

Much appreciation to @dragonagegallery, whose posts have made the canon review for this post much easier! The Art of Dragon Age Inquisition was also a great reference.

(Look at her. She even looks good in the Haven Chantry lighting. Nobody looks good in that. Iconic.)

Josephine is an Antivan-born noblewoman educated in Orlais, who trained and briefly worked as a bard before becoming disillusioned with that life and turning to a career as a diplomat instead. She has been working as the Antivan Ambassador to Orlais up until the point she joins the Inquisition as its Ambassador. Josephine is well-versed in the Grand Game and the culture of the Imperial Court and the upper class. If I were to say that Josephine is fashionable, I don’t think most people would disagree with me.

Yet her signature outfit is quite different from what we see on the fashionable upper class ladies of Orlais. There is a fair amount of Renaissance influence in Orlesian high fashion, but as others have pointed out, there's actually quite a lot of variation in sleeves, collar, and understructures (things like crinolines or panniers that give a skirt a certain volume and shape), drawing inspiration from centuries of European historical dress. Yet Josephine still stands apart from the fashions for Orlesian noblewomen, in some very interesting ways.

I should note at the start here that I am working at a bit of disadvantage with Josephine because we've never been to her country of origin in the games, and basically every Antivan character we've met so far has either been wearing armor, or the same styles as the country they're in at the time. (Also, most of them have been Crows, which Josephine is not.) So I can't comment on how Josie's look compares to what is fashionable in Antiva at the moment, because we don't know. Instead, I'll be talking about her style in the context of Orlais, which I think is fair since she went to school in Orlais and has been living and working there for quite a while now. Just bear in mind going forward that there is a whole sphere of potential influence that we can't really examine here.

But I do think there's also good reason to assume that Josephine takes inspiration from Orlesian fashion, starting with her color scheme. One of the first things that strikes me (and I think many viewers) about Josephine's outfit is "Wow, that's very gold." And it is! It's very gold and blue—colors directly associated with Orlais and with the nobility especially. We see gold and blue all over Orlais, from the capital to the countryside, and Josephine has deliberately chosen to dress herself in the colors that signify power and influence in this nation.

So let's take a look at the specific pieces she wears.

Josephine is wearing what appears to me to be a blouse of gold-colored silk satin with puffed sleeves and a tie-neck or possibly a matching scarf, dark-colored breeches ending just below the knee, a heavier sleeveless overdress or vest in blue brocade or damask (possibly even fine tooled leather; it's really hard to say) that ends at the knee, gold stockings, and black flat shoes. She wears a wide leather belt at the waist, with a gold satin sash tied over it. You can see some better images of Josephine's outfit in concept art and her character model in detail on @dragonagegallery.

This outfit is fascinating to me, and if you've read my post on Sera's style, you might have already guessed a few reasons why.

Given Josephine's basic silhouette, it's easy to look at her and assume she's wearing a dress, but she actually isn't. Even if she was, it would be a break from the Orlesian high fashions of the day, which favor floor-length skirts. But this isn't a dress at all. I would actually compare the blue vest to the leather vests we see in some of the Inquisitor armor variants, for mages and for rogues. The detailing on Josephine's makes it look finer, but it's a similar style, with a similar utility: it's easy to move in. Josephine's vest even has large visible pockets on the sides! And this goes all the way back to her concept art.

I think it's easy to get distracted by the big shiny gold sleeves and miss the fact that Josephine's outfit is actually very practical. In fact, you know what else it reminds me a little of?

Variants of this outfit appear in both Dragon Age 2 and Inquisition, and it's always been a non-gendered look. Note the knee breeches, the vest, and the puffed sleeves (though with much less extravagant gathers than Josephine's).

Josephine wears flat shoes, easy to walk in, comfortable for all-day wear. The wide leather belt echoes but does not exactly mirror the popular underbust corsetry seen on gowns; it is of a more practical style and material, and I'd imagine it could be good for back support for those long hours she spends at a desk. And in fact, the way Josephine wears it over her vest with the sash tied over the belt is not unlike the way a rogue Inquisitor wears their armor:

Though Josephine has left behind the life of a bard, I feel it's undeniable that that life has influenced her style. This is rogue fashion—practical but still stylish, easy to move in, easy to carry items you might need. Josephine is dressed as a rogue, but adapted to her current profession and personal tastes.

It’s all an intriguing choice for a diplomat! Because despite the clear Orlesian influence, Josephine’s look does not very much resemble any of what is fashionable for Orlesian noblewoman at the moment. No long full skirts, no outer underbust corsetry (though her belt does offer a cinched at the waist look), no deep V neckline (though her blue vest does create a similar shape over her blouse). When we compare Josephine to these looks, it’s a very different silhouette with mostly very different shapes. Even her puffed sleeves are puffed in different places than the fashions of high noblewomen (which seem to have the most volume at the elbow or lower right now).

But you know what we do see in Josephine’s outfit?

Breeches ending just below the knee. An outer garment that ends at the knee. Knee-high stockings. A flat black shoe. A shirt with sleeves puffed at the shoulders.

While Josephine’s look is ungendered in the context of a rogue, in the context of a noble this look is undeniably gendered, in a way that might not immediately register to our modern eye.

In the context of Orlesian culture, this is a Menswear-Inspired Look.

Now, unlike Sera, I do not believe Josephine to actually be wearing clothing designed for a man; given her station, this was all likely custom made for her. But in the context of Orlesian high fashion, there is some undeniably masculine styling going on here! And this isn’t about “women don’t wear pants”; many women in Dragon Age do, in fact, wear pants, all the time or in certain contexts; see above about rogue looks. Cassandra and Vivienne both have a skinny pants/leggings thing going on, and they both read more feminine in their styles to me, but they’ll get their own posts! With Josephine, it’s the specific styles of the pieces she’s wearing that bear similarities to men’s high fashion in Orlais. In a modern context, think a woman with long hair in a deliberately feminine style, wearing makeup, some statement jewelry, with a custom-tailored suit. Maybe with a few feminine accents on the suit itself; still definitely a suit. Josephine’s sleeves, for example, are not simply a copy of the male sleeve style; they’re taking inspiration but kind of doing their own thing. And of course, her hair is worn in a style that is practical, but still very elegant and feminine. It’s a Menswear-Inspired Look.

And I just love the fact that both of our F/F romance options in this game are kind of playing with gendered clothing in their personal style, but each very much in their own way.

I'm also fascinated by this one set of concept art called "Displaced Pilgrims" in The Art of Dragon Age: Inquisition, meant to represent "Fereldan and Orlesian refugees who arrived in Haven on a pilgrimage and were unable to leave following the disaster" (p. 75). One piece depicts an Orlesian woman dressed in what is from the hips up the same silhouette we see at the Winter Palace: exaggerated underbust corsetry that emphasizes the hips, a plunging V neckline with scalloped embellishment, a slightly puffed half-sleeve. But below the corset, the skirt has been cropped to mid-thigh and the woman wears a pair of breeches, stockings, and flat shoes with a rounded toe—strikingly similar to Josephine's lower silhouette. I can't recall ever actually seeing any NPCs wandering around Haven looking like this, which is a shame, because I love the concept of an Orlesian noblewoman blending masculine and feminine fashions in order to dress more practically for a journey into the mountains, while still appearing fashionable. I think this may be what Josephine is doing.

Josephine’s necklace is of interest to me as well, as it doesn’t bear a particular resemblance to anything I’ve found in Orlesian fashion; while we see a lot of necklines trimmed in gold, and a few necklaces, there’s nothing that looks like this piece. After a bit of research, I don’t think this is just a flashy piece of jewelry. Given the size of the chain and the way Josephine wears it draped over her shoulders, I think this might actually be a livery collar, also called a chain of office, that denotes her position as an ambassador!

Josephine’s whole look is very distinctive, and very put-together. In my opinion, this is a Choice. This is the kind of outfit that says, “I look like this on purpose,” and this from a woman who knows that a first impression may decide the course of a conversation that will affect the fate of nations. She is wearing a chain of office that immediately announces her station. She’s wearing expensive fabrics—again, I am interpreting that shiny gold fabric as silk and that is not cheap. Her vest shows fine detailing. Her clothing immediately says that she is both a person of means and holds a position of respect. Her color scheme speaks to her Orlesian connections. Her clothing conveys power and status. Yet her divergence from the styles of an Orlesian noblewoman also sets her apart. The practical elements of her look say, “I am no idle lady of leisure; I am capable; I am prepared for every occasion, even the unexpected.” And the roguish elements hearken back to her bard training, saying, “I know how the Game is played; I can be dangerous if I must be.”

Above all, I think this outfit speaks to Josephine’s self-assurance. She knows and understands social trends, but she is not beholden to them; she bends them to her tastes, rather than being bent by them. She acknowledges her past and what she has learned from it. She knows herself, and is in control of her own image.

I think this outfit does some pretty brilliant and inspired visual storytelling about Josephine Montilyet. I wouldn’t change a thing.

[babumakeanart]

Here are some of my thoughts about Dragon age Veilguard. There is of course spoilers so read on your regard

I’m so excited we got another Dragon Age game! But do I adore Veilguard as much as the others in the series? Hard to say—I have very mixed feelings about it.

First of all, a lot of the lore we learned in earlier games feels erased or brushed aside here.

For instance, the choice of who drinks from the Veil of Sorrow seems diminished. Seeing Morrigan again wasn’t as thrilling as I’d hoped. Mostly, I kept asking, “Why are you here?” and “What do you mean you have Mythal in you?” She was relieved she didn’t drink from the Veil once she found out Mythal would control her if she did. And now, out of nowhere, she has that power anyway? Generally, I feel like previous choices don’t really matter. Everything feels so predetermined, even scripted, in terms of what will happen, what’s canon, and what isn’t. I get that BioWare had a lot of issues with this game’s development, especially shifting from multiplayer to single-player. But it still feels like many important choices from earlier games didn’t matter. For example, if Morrigan has a child with an archdemon’s soul in him, wouldn’t that mean—by the new lore—that the elven god bound with Urthemiel would still be alive? Didn’t the archdemons make the Evanuris immortal?

And while Rook is a fun and well-written character, I feel like the story should have continued with the Inquisitor. After all, we should get the chance to finish what they started. Even though it is said at the end of DA:I that Solas knows everything about us, the Inquisitor could still choose a new group to surprise him, but they should still lead them.

I did, however, love the ending for Solavellan. It brought closure, which was very very.. damn.. I cried. :’)

When it comes to our companions, I loved a lot of them—they’re all really cool. Yet I do have a few complaints that may be just my personal view but still. 

First, I’m not a fan of how Taash’s nonbinary identity was handled. As a nonbinary person myself, it felt somewhat disrespectful, as if it were written by someone who didn’t understand the experience. Initially, I was excited, but after reflecting, it started to irk me. I cant write all my thoughts well to say what all bothers me about it, other people put it much better into sentences than I would do so I am just leaving this.

I also wish there were more scenes to get to know these characters. There are a fair number of scenes, sure, but everyone seems overly friendly from the start and it didnt feel that they naturally get to know the main character, but that we already know each other for years. 

Despite the conflicts among some companions, there’s this vibe that everyone is just too nice. Does that make sense? Like, even during the Blight in Origins, some companions didn’t like each other and wouldn’t be buddy-buddy over a coffee date. In DA2, companions had strong beliefs that many times clashed, which made them unique. Veilguard feels too friendly—and not just the companions, but Rook and other NPCs as well.

Another minor issue: the romances are too short, which is sad. :(

But enough negativity! 

There’s still a ton of things I freaky love about Veilgaurd

The visuals! When first peek of this game came out I know some people didn’t like the look of it at all, but GOD is freaky stunning! The characters look great, with tons of little detail movements that make them feel alive. Mostly in expression.

 Every location you travel to is unique and beatutiful. I love running around just to take pictures. The cutscenes? Chef’s kiss. WOW

The fighting style was surprisingly enjoyable, too. I’d just finished DA:I

when Veilguard came out, so the adjustment took a minute, but I got into it quickly and ended up loving it. :)

And then, there’s SOLASSS. My poor man, my poor little egg—I love him, and I would die for him!

I loved all the companions’ personalities and stories. Just wish there was more of it.

Honestly, I cried multiple times during this game. :’D The ending was epic, the final battle gave me chills, and it was just...so cool! I could eat every pixel of these scnes.

One thing I would love to see: what would happen if you sided with Solas and tore down the veil. Even with different endings, the veil stays intact. I’d love to know what happens if it’s actually torn down. Would it end the world? Kill tons of people? Actaully realease the blight in full speed?

-

So far, that’s all I’ve got. I’m tired, and my brain’s fried, but I wanted to get my thoughts down. I know I wrote more criticisms than praise, but I really did enjoy the game. What did you all think? Because honestly, Veilguard has hyped me up to replay all the Dragon Age games again! And created all the ideas I have for my ocs in these games.

[shinystealingbirb]

I have SO many thoughts I don’t know where to begin: genshin 4.2 thoughts under the cut

Firstly the guy who said “wouldn’t it be funny if Skirk was even weirder than Childe” was on POINT that chick is just like him but more chaotic she’s just hiding it for the sake of being polite to an “equal”

Secondly Neuvillete, who despite his stolen power, is furious on behalf of furina for her purposeful ignorance and frankly horrid treatment in the face of Celestia.who grieves when focalors, who has so ardently worked in the shadows just to upset Celestias balance and uphold justice, completes her existences mission.

Wow that one really hurt to watch, especially as you can see Neuvillette acting more and more human in that scene, more so than oceanic focalors.

Third: WHAT THE FUCK. your telling me a recently created human was given a burden that prematurely ages most leaders and stressed them to the point their lifespans generally shorten… and she’s been doing it for five hundred years without telling anyone. She’s been mentally broken for half a millennia. She’s been crying and spouting insane shit for probably a hundred years before we meet her and… that final cutscene. Where she looks over the land and said “the prophecy.. is wrong?”

She believes still that her long life of suffering has been for naught. That the woman in the mirror intentionally lied to her, and five hundred years later sends a two sentance apology. She does not know the whole story.

I hope her life outside of Fontaine is filled with wonder. I hope she never again encounters us. I hope she either finds peace eventually or dies quickly, so she does not have to suffer anymore. A human brain is not made for five hundred years of agony, and she most certainly will never recover… but I hope she finds a measure of peace somewhere out there.

And then she’s given a vision, I haven’t see the story quest…but this is most certainly the prettiest revenge celestia has exacted to date

That brings up my next question: what will celestia do? Focalors has followed through nahidas bluff: destroy an aspect of Celestias control. How will celestia respond now that there are only six archons? Will the others feel it? Will the other archons begin to prepare for war? Venti, doubtlessly, knew the instant it happened. Zhongli, the old god of war, is probably talking to the adepti and forming a plan of defense. Who knows what Ei’s doing, and nahida os probably safe let’s be honest. Celestia does a lot of things but they’re not gonna fuck with Irminsul’s protector.

Now. The third descender. I thought it’s our sibling.Yes, yes, she-I play as Aether- is “of this world.” I don’t have any evidence to back it up… and I’m honestly pretty sure it’s wrong, given that we arrived much later than the gnosis were formed, but the Third Descender was most certainly like us. Possibly humanoid. Elemental resonance. Likely a Traveller who offended celestia, given their body was crushed and made into trophies to house massive amounts of power. So those trophies were made at the end of the dragons era, meaning the third descender was much older.

Last thing I swear: Paimon has a similar color scheme and star-effects as the whale. We sure she’s not a descender who’s lost her memory? Cause we’ve seen there’s multiple ways to block memory in Teyvat, and outsides can certainly be subject to them…

Kay bye