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bearwithegg · 5 months ago

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Fight Like a Girl || B. Blackwood ||

I can change it to Davos once we get further confirmation. Ig?? Lmaooo lord help me. I cbf putting this on my main writing account because of how inconsistent I am with writing kjhdfhg

Mulan Inspired scenario. Original House, i just made that shit up bro lesgoooo. I hope my mass effect enjoyers like this <3

Kieran Burton!Benjicot x f!reader.

Warnings: None? Swearing?

Word Count: 2.8k

PART 2

For @spider-stark ( they write the best damn benjicot oneshots go READ RN)

***

“Keep your voice down, Garrus.” You hiss, eyes darting around the makeshift battlements, rows upon rows of tents more dense than the woods surrounding the legion of men, banners separating them only in name. War was here. Yet men were merry, roaring with laughter, cheering and jeering each other on when sparring amongst themselves. You were well in over your head for this.

“Apologies my lad— lord,” Garrus, a tall, gangly gentleman who not only represented your noble house but also remained your closest confidant and sworn protector. From the moment you were plucked out of your mothers womb, he had encompassed your upbringing with a chassis of care and love like a father would a son or a mother would her babes. Though he might’ve been neither, he was the only person you could call home.

Stylguard. Might’ve been home once, when you and your brother ran a muck in the courtyards instead of tending to important studies with the Maester. When the summers meant that hours were wasted making chains of flowers and clovers. Only ghosts remain, painful visages of a different lifetime, warning those who dare contest the cruel threads of fate the war beget.

The false King must die.

You swore this oath, quietly in whispers of red hot anger, no witnesses to hear it except for the phantoms plaguing your mind and the gods of old. A lady alone could not put an end to a war — men however, could.

“There,” Garrus raises an arm, forefinger steady on a muddied pit in the distance. The epicenter of clashing swords and men shouting. “I might suggest watching them first, Little Clover.”

Little Clover. You were neither little nor the girl who picked clovers in the farmlands anymore. A mere remnant of the past, a pet name that forces unwanted memories of before the Dragons had begun their pointless infighting. Hurtful as it may be, it was the best way to keep unnoticed amongst the thousands of men without arousing suspicion of your true identity.

Some of the men barely meet such a description, boys no older than ten and one pick up swords and join in a brutal pastime against men thrice their size. These were no noblemen, not boys who wielded swords long before their voice stopped squeaking, no. These were commonfolk, some under sworn protection from minor houses, but most of these boys and men were farmers. Steele farmers. Blackwood farmers. Tully farmers. Fray farmers. All united for one cause — and not a single one of them were proficient enough with a sword.

“None of these men are fit for war,” you whisper, turning to Garrus, a sullen swept look on his face mirroring your own. It was hypocritical to comment, considering you could count on one hand how many times you had picked up a sword. Though it was not a slight on their ability to go to war, it was the tragic reality that loomed over the realm.

“They fight for what they believe in…” Garrus answers softly, a hand firmly wrapped around the pommel of his sword, as it had always been since the murmurings of war rippled through the Seven Kingdoms. His eyes look ahead at boys throwing their swords away and opting for fists, pools of blue express his kind and somber nature, reflecting his true age, yet the crows feet around them betray such a thing.

War is cruel to those who bear witness.

The dogpile is quickly dispersed, a lithe and commanding presence tears the boys off one another and reprimands them. “Benjicot Blackwood.” Garrus murmurs, eyes casting a weary look down at you, “you’d do well to learn from him. He’s spilt more blood in this war than the dragons.” A jest, you think, but hearing of the Blackwoods fearsome reputation it could quite possibly yield truth.

Benjicot is shouting orders, or perhaps insults, you couldn’t tell —he had mud pressed hard into his tunic no doubt from rigorous sparring in the sludge pit, a stark contrast to the green fields of untouched grasslands the contingent temporarily inhabited. His feet sunk into the ground with each step, the man made bog had been many of the boys’ downfall during sparring and a cause of frustration by the looks they all shared across their faces.

“You there, boy.” He points at you — sword tip singling you out and all.

Eyes wide and body rigid, you felt as though you’d forgotten how to speak or move. Had it not been for Garrus gripping the scruff of your ill-fitted tunic and shoving you forward, you might’ve found yourself at the ire of the boy before you.

Not boy. Man.

Barely so, not even the young were spared from the cruel and aging touch of war.

He regards you carefully, a stormy gaze looking at you from head to toe. Eyes stopping at the sigil adorned on your chest. Even bespeckled with sweat and mud you couldn’t help but think how handsome he looked, though it was far from an appropriate thought. It helped ease the nervousness that rippled through your being as you stood in the centre of a circlet of men.

”Lord Steele found himself sober enough to finally choose a side did he?” Benjicot’s words were severe, a low growl not too dissimilar to that of the black cats and Direwolves of the nearby forests. There was a primal, animalistic quality in his movements, sizing you up like a predator would when deciding if something was prey or not.

You resist the urge to look at Garrus, he could not help you, not now. Instead, with a chin held up you shake your head, nudging it back toward your confidant, “we came alone, Lord Blackwood.”

His eyes flicker behind you and tilts his head to the side, “hm. Idiotic yet admirable of you two. Going against the word of the House that protects you.” There was a glint of something in his eyes, wild, untamed and real compared to many of the other pairs of eyes you had come across in the camp. He swipes the sweat from his upper lip and nods over to the handmade rack of swords, “show us what House Steele defects are made of then.”

This was about to be nothing short of a complete humiliation, you were certain. Yet, with a steady breath and the ignition of hatred bubbling in the back of your mind to remind you of why this path was the one you chose — you pick a short sword, albeit the smallest of the array of the newly smithed weapons.

Despite its small size it was still made from heavy ores, your wrist willing itself to relent to the weight, wanting to bend and twist. Men and boys begin to laugh, your eyes look around and it was a horrifying reflection of your own uselessness, like a childish nightmare coming to fruition. It pissed you off.

The moment you came into this life born without a prick between your legs you had always been seen as inferior, a prize to be sold to the highest bidder. The lament of a woman born in Westeros. Now, you stand on the edge of a cliff looking over an abyss brought on by the war. By two dragons ill-fitted for the power they wield because at the end of all this, the only people who suffer are the people.

You resent being born into a hateful world and you resent that loss is what has driven you to action. Just like you resent being laughed at by a crowd of men who knew next to nothing about the sacrifices you’ve made.

Benjicot Blackwood, does not laugh. He does not jeer nor does he show faint amusement at your inability to hold a mere short sword. He has since stepped aside, beckoning a boy forward who is similar in your stature but definitely not in age — he could barely be ten and four.

He was snickering, and that added more oil on top of the fire that burned your hatred and loathing — you feel yourself recede into that raw emotion. While you may be absolutely abhorrent with any real fighting skills, you had an unbridled rage to let out in recompense for all the wrong done unto you in this world.

And so you charge at him, using momentum to help raise the sword over your head because by gods alone, your strength was practically non-existent. A ferocious yowl barrels from your throat when swords clashed, the sudden stop was disorienting and caused you to stumble back slightly. He swings his sword and you double back again, the mud encasing around your boots willing you to trip, to fall.

You try to swing back but don’t have enough momentum and you feel your wrist bend under the weight of the sword and have to over-correct, stepping to the side so as to not drop the sword. Laughter rumbles through the men once again, some beginning to cheer on the boy in front of you.

Heaving forward again, you go to swing but in a split second you let go of the sword, letting it careen through the air and hitting the boy on the chest. Was it smart to willfully disarm oneself? Perhaps not, but he certainly wasn’t expecting it so you pounce. An all too familiar scene that would have otherwise delighted you if it weren’t on the grounds of war; a hand curls into his muddied blonde locks while the other goes to claw at his face.

Many fights had broken out like this between you and other girls growing up, it seemed only natural to revert back to the ways you knew how to fight. Even if it wasn’t exactly appropriate.

The two of you tumble into the mud together but the element of surprise has long surpassed and he uses simple strength, punching you hard in the gut and knocking you off him. Unsure what to expect next, you lay in the mud, chest heaving hard and conceded defeat — truthfully you had conceded defeat the second you were called out to show off your ‘skill’.

Overcast and dreary weather as it may be, the sun's light still glared through such heavy obscurity, your eyes squinted while trying to figure out if it was easier to sink into the bog beneath you or get up and swallow down what little pride remained. Eclipsing the sun in more ways than one, Benjicot stands over you, expression hardened yet there was an amused glint deep within his dark eyes.

“You fight like a girl,” he outstretched his hand, part of you contemplating hitting it away but he was the only one - aside from Garrus - to not laugh at your ineptitude. A soft groan passes your lips and you begrudgingly take the gesture of kindness, it was more than anyone had given you anyway.

“I am no knight,” you grumble back, once upright, rolling your shoulders back and rubbing the wrist that began to ache from holding a sword. The crowd of men had begun dispersing, you wonder if in your post fight daze if Benjicot had shooed them away.

”Aye, any idiot with two eyes can see that,” he jests, picking up the sword from the mud, “any daft cunt can pick up a sword and swing it around — but you’ve something else… I see it in your eyes, boy.”

At first you think he’s undermining you, but after a moment, it was clear he was paying you a compliment.

He returns the sword amongst the rest, a hand resting on the pommel of his sheathed dagger. Something about his stature, the way he commanded the space he inhabited was so interesting. He was unlike any other Lord you met before, perhaps it could be that he was a warrior first, then Lord second. A sentiment only emboldened since the war began.

“It may be pertinent that we train at night Little Clover, you have much to learn,” Garrus whispers, coming up behind you and putting a hand on your shoulder proudly. He may have watched you get bested without question, and sure, behind the confines of the tent you two shared later he would no doubt say how proud he was, there was not a single thing you could do that he wouldn’t support.

He should have trained you up sooner — be it if the departure from Stylguard wasn’t swift and last moment.

Benjicot approaches the two of you, watching as you whisper conspiratorially. He was as intimidating when he was quiet as he was when wielding a sword. A perceptive gaze looking between Garrus, clad in armour of your house and you, unevenly cut hair and dressed in little more than a squires tunic. He gives a weary look around, many of the men had long left the sludge pit.

”I must thank you, for joining the efforts even if they go against Lord Steele’s,” He says formally.

“No matter, my Lord.” Garrus smiles, a thin and forced one out of mere politeness, “Lord Steele grows weary the longer the war persists, a conflict averse man such as himself cannot continue to lock himself away in the wine cellars while war is brought to his doorstep.”

There was a pause, a silent mediator among the three of you, as much as it would pain you to admit; Garrus holds truth in his words. You love your father you really did but he stopped being a present figure the moment the raven arrived with word of your brother's death.

“Aye, The Greens have done irreparable damage to his family yet he cowers in his fortress.” Benjicot says quietly, mulling over his thoughts. His tongue pokes the inside of the cheek, protruding it out before moistening his lips with a twitch of a smile, barely perceptible, “is that why his daughter fled? To find retribution for the unlawful death of her brother?”

You tense up, swallowing hard and don’t dare look to Garrus lest suspicion is raised. The lump in your throat is hard and stubborn, even as you clear it, part of it remains to jeopardize the weight of your words. “That is.. what many believe to have happened… A few of us stable boys overheard she had plans to flee to Essos.”

Benjicot hums, nodding in response and looks around at the tents, the men, all the heart and blood of war. You follow his gaze carefully, how deeply entrenched in the throes of war the realm had become. In the middle of a field at the edge of the Riverlands of all places.

“This doesn’t look like Essos to me, my Lady.”

Before you had a chance to stumble back, Garrus had put an arm in front of you, an instinct to protect, to guard. Though falters when he hears the young Blackwood laugh.

”Do not think yourself in danger. It is admirable, truly. To go against your fathers wishes, but you cannot simply cut your hair and wear the clothes of a boy and call yourself a warrior.” He chuckled, a deep and soothing sound that made your cheeks burn, though that was partly due to being caught. He was impressed in truth, unable to find what the wild spark in your eyes was initially, though it made sense the moment he saw your delicate unmarred hands. Nails well kept and not a single grain of dirt underneath them.

“I wish to learn, I want to fight.” You step forward, voice pleading because if you didn’t have this then what remained? A hallowed home with vestiges of pain luring anyone stupid enough to hear their call? An empty father, nothing but a shell of what once was a person who mirrored life and happiness? It was fight or die and even death wasn’t as cruel of a fate as returning to nothing, to be nothing.

“And you fight like a girl,” he smiles, not to insult or belittle you, nothing more nefarious than a simple observation. He inches forward, shifting his weight. It shouldn’t have made you as nervous as it did, but he was close enough to crowd your senses with his natural musk. “Many men believe women to be bad luck in times of war, these men are no different.”

Those men were stupid, you think.

“And what say you, Lord Blackwood?” You swallow.

“I say that not many of them have had the pleasure of meeting my Aunt.” He whispered, eyes swirling similarly to the darkened storm stricken skies above. “Women aren’t welcome by some around here, do well to keep discreet. And if you cannot manage that, then be ruthless.”

On his retreat, you feel yourself turn to look at Garrus, who looked caught between a look of utter bemusement yet partially pleased all things considered. He looks down at you and clears his throat, “let us retire for the afternoon, my lad— Little Clover. Trust that the Lordling does not speak to many about your arrival.”

Your eyes remain in the direction Benjicot disappeared in, sighing heavily. Perhaps in a different lifetime he would have been a delightful consort, though for now it is barely a thought, passing through your idle mind as you slowly turn to rest for the day.

#house of the dragon #hotd #benjicot blackwood #benjicot x reader #bloody ben blackwood #hotd one shot #house of the dragon one shot #ben blackwood #bloody ben x reader #benjicot blackwood x reader #fanfic

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art · 8 months ago

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Creator Spotlight: @chaaistheanswer

Hi everyone! I am Clara, but you can also call me chaa! I am a digital artist based in Auckland, New Zealand, with a bachelor’s degree in Creative Media Production. After graduating from uni, I moved out to pursue my art career and I’ve been a freelance digital artist ever since. I love concept art, especially character design! Creating characters influenced by my love for fantasy is what I live for. Thank you for stopping by, and I hope you enjoyed my art! And thank you, Tumblr, for this opportunity!

Check out our interview with Clara below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I specialized in art in high school and have a bachelor’s degree in Creative Media Production from Massey University with an animation pathway. For our thesis film, which I worked on with several of my classmates, I took on the role of producer, art director, and concept artist. Our short film was featured in the Wellington Film Festival Terror-Fi in 2020. After graduating, I went on to become a freelance artist, but my goal is to work for the gaming industry as a character concept artist. Ever since I first picked up a pencil, I knew I wanted to become an artist!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Art block is quite common among artists, and unfortunately, I too have fallen prey to the affliction. I have several ways of overcoming art block: watching movies, playing games, reading, or going out for a drive with my sister. These are just a few things I love to do to help keep my creative juices flowing!

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

I tend to obsessively research about completely unrelated topics while I draw. I find learning new things helps improve my concept designs, especially in creating backgrounds for my characters.

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

Video games and anime were my biggest inspirations! Anything with a captivating story that’ll send me to the edge of my seat, and loveable characters. I’m particularly drawn to high and dark fantasy.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

Technology has made a huge impact on us artists over the last few years. I used to draw a lot on paper, but since getting a tablet, I find myself searching for the undo and redo buttons and even trying to zoom constantly while I draw on paper. I used to only draw for myself as well, but after posting my art online, I now have an audience to whom I can share my art. Because of this, I am able to earn a living doing what I love by creating illustrations for clients.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I am very proud of this recent commission I’ve done for a client! Fortunately, the piece turned out exactly how I wanted it to look, and my client was very happy with the result. I am also in the process of working on a Webtoon, which is going as smoothly as I hoped it would be before its re-release!

What advice would you give to younger you about making art that's personal or truthful to your own experiences?

The best advice I would give my younger self is to never hold back! Try not to think about the negatives of creating and sharing art that you believe in. Embrace vulnerability, and don’t be afraid to dig deep into your own emotions and experiences. Always explore, and don’t limit yourself to your own bubble. And most important of all, stay true to yourself! Stay true to your values and beliefs, and never compromise your own authenticity for the sake of pleasing others. Your art is a reflection of you as a person.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@yuumei-art has been an inspiration to me since my early Deviantart days. I admire how she uses her skills to focus on environmentalism and cyber activism. @nipuni is another inspiration of mine. I found her when I was in the process of recovering from Dragon Age Solavellan hell. I admire how she manages to capture faces well while also sticking to her style. Her paintings are so beautiful and very pleasing to my eyes!

Thanks for stopping by, Clara! If you haven't seen her Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here. For more of Clara's work, follow her Tumblr, @chaaistheanswer!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #chaaistheanswer

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scribeofmorpheus · 13 days ago

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Veilguard Review: Doom Upon the World

Warnings: Spoilers for Veilguard, very political review (considers race, gender, religion and choice consequences centred around established Thedas).

Another long post: 4k words

In my first review (Love, Wisdom and Pride), I focused on the relationships most pivotal to Solas’ arc reaching resolution: Inquisitor and Mythal (though heavily Solavellan inspired, I tried to be aware of how the Inquisitor’s role as a rival/friend outside of romance was still considered as an important relationship in his story). This review, on the other hand, will focus on the worldstate and what we lost [x], as well as my speculations on which story beats/companions/advisors I feel should have been integrated into the story for a deeper emotional payoff for past Dragon Age players (and overall story cohesion).

N.B: This review is definitely a critique of something I love, born from love, because—yes, I had expectations; yes, they were high; no, I don’t think that’s a problem; no, I do not hate the game we got, but I mourn for what the devs clearly were building towards with the last 3 games in the series, and from what we know from the internal struggles with Bioware under EA’s helm (as evidence from the development time, layoffs, staff’s disappointment, and the differences between the final game and the concept art) the only thing getting in the way of a truly epic game was corporate meddling and greed.

Spoilers below the cut.

Without further ado, the primary criticism I have is that Varric should not have been our advisor! I read a post somewhere that succinctly surmised the that Varric was chosen as our Advisor so that:

Solas would make an “irredeemable” mistake for all the Solas haters to use as an excuse to simply view him as an antagonist, simplifying the goal of the game to: stop the elf from bringing down the Veil.

Varric was used for marketing purposes rather than story depth choices; he’s popular, beloved and an easy carrot for the EA stick to dangle in front of loyal fans.

His writer has literally been trying to kill him off for the last 2 games! Varric was supposed to die in Inquisition! (lol)

I firmly believe he should have been holding the blight back in Kirkwall, and that his position as Viscount of Kirkwall should have affected the outcome of the blight spreading in the South!

Advisors in the North

Right off the bat, the two best choices for advisor, (excluding the Inquisitor out of favouritism) should have been Dorian and Morrigan.

Dorian: because we’re in the North, the Shadow Dragons are by far the more “grassroots organisation against imperial power” kind of organised body the Inquisition started out as. Since we don’t have a calling to fight against like the Wardens in Origins or a family to try and keep together in a city on the brink of implosion like Hawke, or a pseudo religious-political body to inspire Hope in the faithful like the Inquisitor, Valour, Love and Hope cannot be at the heart of this story. It has to be JUSTICE [x].

Justice for the culmination of Anders’ story; for Merril and everything she endured to repair the eluvian; for Fenris, the origin of his lyrium tattoos (which according to GhilDirthalen’s post, there was a plot point linked to elves whose lyrium bodies did not possess latent magical prowess) and the slaves in Tevinter; for the rebelling elves that should have formed factions as the Dread Wolf’s Agents like the Trespasser epilogue hinted at; for misunderstood spirits hurt by mages like Cole; for the ancient elves like Abelas; for the templars who saw the corruption in their ranks but had no way out because of lyrium addiction like Sampson; for those corrupted by red lyrium that was spreading throughout Thedas with no cause or cure; for the dwarves like Branka, obsessed with the answers held in the Anvil of the Void, or Harding, or Shaper Valta who saw a Titan and witnessed the death of the Legion of the Dead; for Sandal’s prophecy!; for the qunari oppressed by the Qun, turned talvashoth, searabas, hisraad like Bull! Justice for two decades worth of worldbuilding on the part of the writers and the devs who loved telling these stories.

Morrigan: is self-explanatory to the story they were crafting between Solas and Mythal. And what would have been even better is if they actually just explained away the Well of Sorrows’ choice unaffecting the Inquisitor because Morrigan eventually had to assimilate the essence from the well to keep the Inquisitor from going mad—like the anchor had to be tempered by Solas in Trespasser. Easy as that!

The best part is that pitting Morrigan and Dorian as foils of each other further allows the game to have greater stakes and tension because Morrigan (changed by Mythal’s righteous anger and need for justice for what was done to her by the Evanuris) could champion making choices more detrimental to Thedas but ultimately in line with Solas’ plans. And Dorian could make choices that put the safety of Thedas’ citizens at the forefront by sacrificing headway in stopping Solas and his Agents from advancing with their plans!

Best yet, we could have had a hardened vs softened Dorian depending on whether you recruited him in Inquisition, and/or did his quest.

[Inquisitor concept art by Matt Rhodes]

Favouritism Bonus Round: The Inquisitor (or alternatively Morrigan) should have been the voice to champion Rook to seek out the wolf statues, and they should have been present when discussing the memories, as it would have given them more gravitas when uncovering the literal story of "Solas is Andrastian God creating the Veil" or "the Dalish Dread Wolf is being proven to be a saviour" or "Elves originally being spirits in the beginning", or "Titans were at war with the elves" beyond comments like: “Oh, Solas regrets this” or “They were doing it”. (This is the issue with having a “couch setting” for a “war room”—discussions feel less intellectual, factions don’t necessarily bring their own unique viewpoint into the interpretation of Solas’ decisions/Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain’s presence, etc.) Everyone is not digesting the material given like it’s a clue to stopping the world from ending but rather like gossip. With the Inquisitor, as either a friend to Solas, a rival or a romanced Lavellan, finally finding the Dread Wolf’s Achilles Heel after vowing to stop him would have rung true, closed the loop.

Sigh.

This is also why I feel the Inquisitor should have been the one in Varric’s place—like literally. I mean recovering from an injury after failing to catch up to Solas in ACT 1, possibly dispatched by Agents of Fen'Harel! Because they could then be forced to pass the mantle to hunt down Solas to “Rook”. Not dead. Or a blood magic illusion. Just, Inquisitor, wounded, making small talk, sometimes bringing up plot points from Inquisition—your Hawke on the battlements in DA:I or Alistair in the gardens with Morrigan and Keiran.

It would also make more sense for the Inquisitor to be able to use the eluvian to travel between Skyhold and the Lighthouse, allowing for believable absences during plot points where their lack of action inspite of their presence wouldn’t make sense. Not to mention more gut-wrenching if we heard about the South from Inky rather than reading 4 letters!

Previously, I stated how the Inquisitor’s presence needed more weight in the non-Solavellan endings! Some people’s Inquisitor befriended Solas, some hated him, either way, the Inquisitor should have been present for the final showdown beyond a passive observer! If the Inquisitor ended up being the last friend/former love that Solas destroys (in a bad worldstate end where you don’t collect Mythal’s essence), which then prompts Rook to fight him because Solas’ last tie to empathy failed to redeem him, that would have added so many layers! The Inquisitor falling is the last straw for Solas too, whether friend, lover or foe, he fought beside them, stopped Corypheus with them! The Inquisitor was partially his making of a hero; his first “good” mistake! It would then make sense for him to snap, choosing to be a villain in the hopes of being stopped because he can’t stop himself, he’s come too far! Rather than the ‘I am a God’ ending they gave us.

Agency of a “Rook” on an Empty Chess Set (Factions and Backstory)

Personally, from both a writing and a viewer’s perspective, I think our protagonist should have always been linked to the Shadow Dragons (and the factions choices shouldn’t have been incorporated). This is more because, framing one’s backstory as being a member of a faction—not a people with established political positions in Tevinter—siphons the narrative of personal stakes. Imagine being a mage who could have begun with higher approval in Tevinter but lower elsewhere, maybe they’d be saved from the Venatori’s thrall that was linked to Neve’s companion story—again linked to Ashur and the Dragons. Or an elf mage could begin a storyline like that of the city elf in da:o but focused on the Shadow Dragons’ tackling slavery’s presence in Tevinter. A Qunari origin could explore being a refugee aided by the Shadow Dragons as they flee the Qun because they don’t fit in the dogmatic religion. A warden could be a criminal in Tevinter, showing us what is considered ‘rules for criminality’ in a city that corrupt and extremist.

Overall, the factions don’t add much diversity to Rook’s background, backstory, dialogue tree or influence on the world state beyond a last name that doesn’t really matter. With a Shadow Dragons’ background, the very ethos of “Rook” would have been about overcoming oppression, and then the nickname makes sense too, a name to stay concealed, to keep loved ones safe while DAV’s protagonist battles politics, blood mages and blighted gods. It would have been even more meaningful if the nickname “Rook” paralleled “Dread Wolf”, in that it was bestowed by your origin-based backstory antagonist and then used as a call to freedom (we wouldn’t even need a cutscene, this could have been revealed in part of their banter/dialogue). This simple choice would have allowed us to focus on Treviso and the Antaam’s occupation and Tevinter and the Venatori’s rise to power on a more personal level. It would also place our Rook in a position to be a foil to Solas’ “do what is necessary for the greater good” vs “be better than those that came before” plot lines. Building off this, the hardened companion status between Neve and Lucanis should have formed a parallel, with one tilting towards understanding Solas’ extreme efforts to stop the Gods, whereas the non-hardened character should have taken the role of foil. Both of whom would add balance to the tension when discussing Solas’ memories or even in exploration banter during missions (one the “devil” on your shoulder, the other your “angel” depending on where Solas’ actions stand for you since Inquisition).

Finally, the Shadow Dragons' should have been linked to Dorian more directly, potentially created with backing/support from the Inquisition’s advisors/Inquisitor directly (since their default attire is the Shadow Dragon apparel).

Companions: Cole for Compassion; Briala for Rebellion and Revenge

Cole

In my review Love, Widsom and Pride, I briefly touched on the fact Cole (whether recruited, not recruited, kept spirit or changed human) was absolutely necessary as a companion. Because it doesn’t matter which version was present in the world (RIP the tapestry), every iteration of Cole works synergistically with appealing to Solas’ spirit side:

If he wasn’t recruited in Inquisition, he could simply have his default origins as a compassion spirit that ‘follows’ the greatest pain in the Fade that yearns to be healed, giving a compassionate viewpoint to Solas’ folly.

Recruited-to-the-Inquisition Spirit Cole could have a greater connection to Solas than even Varric, seeing as Cole was most likely a literal representation of Solas rewriting his own history of corruption by preventing a spirit from becoming something against its nature.

Human Cole would have a deeper connection to the world of Thedas, and could have been a great tool to prove how change was inevitable, not always a bad thing, and inevitably out of even Solas’ control. And he could still offer insight into Solas' mind via 'remnants' of the time he was more spirit.

Briala

What I enjoy about this companion head canon is that Briala is literally Solas’ direct parallel story-wise:

She’s in love with Celene, the ‘best’ choice for ruler in Orlais even though she burned Briala’s alienage. They share a great power imbalance, with Celene able to affect the fate of all elves in Orlais, yet is unwilling to free them, return the Dales, or concede power even though she claims to love Briala, too. Briala is a rebellion upstart, raised by Felassan for crying out loud. She controlled the eluvians and knew how to get around the crossroads, she has more of a bone to pick with Solas than any other NPC not close to the Inquisitor! (Celene and Mythal share many similarities as well, with Celene seen as the more benevolent of rules when compared to Gaspard the Warmonger; and if Gaspard is in power but controlled by Briala, her being dethroned from her seat of power by Agents of Fen’Harel when she lost access to the eluvians would have been a great story arc to explore).

Sidenote on DAV's Romance, Companions and Choice Consequence

Building off having either Cole or Briala as a companion, I do think it would have been nice to have them as non-romanceable too. Don’t get me wrong, I know it's great to have options, but I do feel making everyone “pansexual” wasn’t the right way to go for all the companions. It takes away character choice, personality, taste and individualism from the companions. Dorian’s story would not be nearly as impactful if he could have been romanced regardless of gender. Solas being unwilling to romance any race/gender besides female elf (though a direct correlation to the developers being afraid of the ‘evil bisexual’ trope that was popular in the 2010s) also adds to his story; where he’s reluctant to see the world as real, to accept non-elven people as having agency, because that would mean he wasn’t walking through a see of Tranquil, but instead, he was the Forgotten One out of time.

I also firmly believe that a possible reason Cole wasn’t a companion despite there being plans in place that he’d return (Trespasser epilogue slide, I remember you), is because I can 100% see an EA big-wig being like: “He’s unfuckable. Give us someone hot and brooding and slap a demon in them and you’ve got fuckable-Cole” and then we got Lucanis.

I like Lucanis. I’m not crazy about him, but I enjoy the Machiavllian family drama. Very Renaissance Medici story beats. I adore Mary Kirby as a writer, too, but I feel the introduction to the Crows of Antiva should have been Zevran’s mantle, or he should have at least haunted the narrative and missions related to the Crow factions (of which there should definitely have been factions within the Crows). Considering the fact I romanced Lucanis, I couldn’t shake the fact that a lot of his “acceptance for being bound to Spite” beats paralleled a Human Cole having been ‘cured’ from Compassion.

The romances seem less… memorable to me than past games. The importance of choice means you have to accept the story unfolding based on the consequences of your choices; and gender-locking at least one companion would show the cause and effect of beginner choice. Taash is actually written to prefer women over men, which is vital to their arc around gender dysphoria and being non-binary, they would have been a perfect candidate! I imagine their story would also be a great way to explore how being one race attempting to romance another could have a slower progression rate (again, because of Taash’s multi-cultural background, and their complex feelings at having been raised by a mother so tied to the Qun, them being cagier around a qunari Rook romance would also have added layers!) But with everyone available to be romanced, and having no initial repercussion for early game choices despite which character model would have bruises or cuts (Neve or Harding), genuinely roleplaying as Rook, and not as someone using Rook as a stand-in for ourselves, is more disconnected than previous games. This is why the romances feel off to me. Doing the romanceable companions’ storylines seem like I’m the one trying to date them, not Rook. Maybe it’s because Rook’s established personality is the direct repercussion of a sanitized worldstate!

Foibles of being ‘Unproblematic’: A Sanitised World

The issue with trying to make a game that won’t touch on difficult topics, is that, when you make that game a sequel to a series that was literally built on the backs of tackling real world politics, it makes a lot of the world seem plastic. A poor imitation perhaps.

The World of Thedas book actually tells us that Thedas is a fantasy setting that uses the real world as its backdrop for conflict and world building. Andraste is Joan of Arc. Andrastian faith is Christianity founded by a woman. Orlais is the French bourgeois era. Fereldan is more Highlands/Celtics region if it never had a chance to expand because of the blight. Elves are the disenfranchised (and a direct parallel to popular elven cultures that were often portrayed as the pinnacle of advanced magic/civilisation). City elves live in alienages (literal ghettos). Dalish elves (native to the land) are being run out of their homes, the Orlesian’s are trying to claim the territory for their Empire, and their numbers are dwindling, their culture and language a poor imitation of what it had been, barely surviving colonialisation! Dwarves have a caste system that determines everyone’s future! Dagna had to leave her home! Harding grew up on the surface. Varric’s whole plot thread anchoring him in act 1 of DA2 is helping his brother discover Deep Roads riches so they can get their family’s title again.

And through all 3 games prior to Veilguard, we’re told the Ventaori are monsters, the Imperium is crueller to its elves/slaves than any place in the South! The best option beyond turning Feynriel tranquil in DA2 (one of the few Dream Walker mages) is to send him to Tevinter. What becomes of a half-Dalish mage in Tevinter? Neve, our first companion beside Harding, is determined to make Dock Town a place worth living! So, to walk into Veilguard and have no slavery storylines in a place called the fucking TEVINTER IMPERIUM (modelled after the fucking Roman Empire close to collapse) is so jarring. So unbelievable. What injustice is Neve battling? What woes has Dorian been dealing with in the Magisterium?

The closest we get to seeing the darkness that exists in the world (besides the hanging corpses lining the streets of Dock Town if you save Treviso) is the side quest where a father makes a deal with a demon to keep his child alive by sacrificing so many innocents.

And then there's Tevinter's "savage" neighbours, the Invading forces of the Qun! Frightening, right? But from the blasé manner the Qun's rigidity is discussed, it is framed as though anyone can simply up and leave the Qun if they so wished it, according to Taash’s mom. Yes, Taash is being hunted, and their mom is taken prisoner, but it was all in service to a tablet that discussed fire-breathing, not about returning to the Qun. Iron Bull being deemed hisraad holds less severity when the consequences of leaving a subjugating, dogmatic, religious-political society are simply... nothing. There's no anchor to Taash being raised in Rivain for safety reasons beyond keeping their fire-breathing secret. And what of all the elves that commit to the Qun? Why are there no elf converts among the Antaam? What about the fucked-up stuff the Dwarves of Kal-Sharok were doing before Veilguard? Kal-Sharok dwarves apparently were changed by the First Blight, and are supposed to have a ‘tainted’ appearance according to the World of Thedas concept art book. Why are they just... normal dudes in booby armour (lol)?

[Imshael! A demon/spirit of choice & Calpernia as potential companions is insanity>>!]

I possibly wouldn’t have these strong opinions if the games gave the companions more… just more ‘controversial’ stories with harder choices! Veilguard in a way feels like playing a game with child-lock on. Yes, what happens to Tevinter or Treviso looks awful when you see it, but the side-quests, companion stories, NPC dialogues and world around the ‘mise-en-scene’ don’t reflect this--it's like set dressing. The “I can’t believe the Venatori are evil” side comments by Rook in Tevinter when the Venatori takes over become whiny, child-like and “hopes and prayers” coded. Do something then, Rook. You are the hero of this story, are you not?

I am forever grateful that Lucanis is actually hardened and removed as a romance interest if you sacrifice Treviso (finally, good old dragon age consequences).

Now onto good criticism of our companions!

Companions: The Good, the Balanced and the Essential

Good: Neve and Davrin.

Neve is our eyes and heart to Dock Town, our humanising presence for the Tevinter Imperium. She is also written in a way that I find her to have the best agency as a non-romanced character than most.

Davrin is a breath of fresh air for the reputation of the Grey Wardens, he’s the genuine article. Him owning up to being young and foolhardy when he rejected the Dalish ways in search of adventure, only to be battle-hardened and then become more appreciative of the fact he was taught to live in harmony before he was exposed to the discord of the Deep Roads is such a good character growth moment.

Balanced: Harding. Harding grows into a much more invaluable story piece when she unlocks the Stone Sense and uncovers her people’s history. It’s a rather short-sighted choice to have her be one of the Ultimate Sacrifice characters because what becomes of the story of the Stone? Who hears the song? Who will speak of the Titans to other dwarves if she is chosen to go on the final mission?

Essential: Antoine and Evka! No notes, they should have been conditional companions in a side quest! They’re fleshed out so well, and their relationship is real and built into their character, but it’s not all they are! Antoine is smart, hopeful and also tortured by the new blight. Evka is powerful, pragmatic and also caring.

The Red Herring that should have been: Bellara as an Agent of Fen’Harel! Her storyline would have worked with the concept of being found ‘suspicious’ by players if the Agents of Fen’Harel were an active group. A Veil Jumper in Arlathan whose brother got entabgled with a Forgotten One? Someone who is an outright believer in the elven pantheon? O, Bellara, the power you would have had as a possible double-agent in our midst, only for us to have been wrong in doubting her and having it be someone else! Race and position to power should have inforced so many story beats in this game, man!

Finally: Religion, Where?

I’m a little exhausted, so I’ll wrap this part a little quickly. Religion is paramount to understanding the decisions and states of mind of so many characters in Thedas. Leliana’s arc alone is one of the most intimate insights into Andrastian faith! The Inquisitor is literally responsible for appointing the Divine! The Divine can call for an Exalted March! The Black Divine is a huge plot point when discussing the differences between the Southern and Northern iterations of the Chant. Tevinter’s Old Gods (Archdemons) are blighted dragons linked to the Evanuris that whisper the will of their masters to humans. Archdemons are responsible for the Blight, our first “save the world kiddo” moment in da:o! So where is the disbelief in the streets that Elven Gods exist? Why is it always “Our Gods” are back? What about city elves who believe in the Chant of Light? Where is the Black Divine? Why is everyone okay remaining Andrastian when the fact Solas made the Veil is revealed? Where is the politics and religious civil war in the streets between NPCs?! Between companions? Why isn’t there a cultish, zealous group of extreme Andrastians following Solas around? Why isn’t there another version thinking of Solas and all elves as the second coming of Maferath? How are city elves fairing compared to Dalish elves at the reveal it’s their pantheon gunning to end the world? Again! RACE AND POLITICS MATTER! They always mattered in Thedas before, yet here they are anecdotal at best.

The Veil Should Have Come Down

It’s apparent to me, and numerous others, that Veilguard was stunted by its attempts to be an entry piece that wasn’t alienating to new players of the RPG game format, but it was also haunted deeply by it’s very EPIC tapestry mechanic (chocies mattered!). Ironically, Veilguard served to be a soft re-boot of the series. This, I think, was the grandest mistake. If they meant to reboot the series for future instalments, we should have fundamentally changed the physics and rules of Thedas completely to allow the next instalment to start from the literal ground up. By bringing down the Veil, we’d finally free the Titan’s, introduce the concept of Dwarves with magic, awaked the Forgotten Ones and maybe allow for new species/lore/concepts to shape the future. And to work around the tapestry, they could have simply set the next sequel 200 years later. Sent our heroes to rest. Ended with a new canvas.

It should have concluded with the very ending that was prophesied by Sandal in DA2:

“One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, the skies will open wide. When he rises everyone will see.”

Bonus: Anaris should have been a DLC boss with Fenris involved!

Why, you ask? Just this data-mined codex entry still present in the game:

Truth be told, like they did with Corypheus in the Origins DLC, I think they could very well bring him back as the big bad of DA5—which I think should have always been about fleshing out the war between the Titans / the Forgotten Ones / Evanuris!

Anaris and a waking Titan?! That would have been beyond amazing!

Which… again, is why the Veil should have COME DOWN!

P.S.: I know a lot of these criticisms seem like unhappy nitpicks, but I did enjoy Veilguard, I got an ending I could live with. BUT I am so angry by how many roadblocks are placed before game devs with a clear story in mind--as is obvious with the concept art book. Obvious threads were leading to Veilguard having always been the end of the Dragon AGE! We kill the last Archdemon! The last dragon linked to the Gods and the blight! The game developers have even alluded to having fought tooth and nail with EA's suits, but could only manage to give us the game we got. And I'm beyond grateful. But MAN does it hurt!

Remember to say thank you to the writers/artists/voice actors on their socials, they deserve a little love too.

Fin!

#dav spoilers #datv spoilers #veilguard spoilers #dragon age #rook #dragon age critique #veilguard review #solas #varric tethras #cole dragon age #felassan #morrigan #zevran #mythal #da2 #dao #da inquisition #dorian pavus #thedas

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yanderes-galore · 2 months ago

Note

Fandom: HOTD

Character: Aemond Targaryen

Pairing: Romantic

Type of fic: Concept

Extra info: I was thinking reader could be Rhaenyra's daughter, whether she's the oldest child or not is up to you, but she's definitely related to Jace and Luke (thought that her being a bastard could be a way to have Aemond conflicted about his feelings, at least early on).

Also, to add insult to injury, I thought she could take Rhaenyra's side instead of the greens- that way Alicent would definitely never allow him to marry reader lol,, but that's just a suggestion of course

-🥝 anon :P

Side note: your posts are what got me into hotd in the first place🤎🤎

I love Aemond sm. I may not write him the best, but he is a favorite Targaryen of mine. Here you go! Also, I'm so happy I got another person into HOTD ^^ I love ASOIAF a ton.

Yandere! Aemond Targaryen with Rhaenyra's Daughter! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Targcest (You're both half Targaryen), Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Violence, Murder, Blood, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Angst, Swearing, Mature themes, Forced relationship.

What comes to mind is definitely you being around the same age of Jace, if not a bit older.

You're a Strong bastard like your brothers, you were never blind to the idea.

Your mother may say it isn't true, but you are aware of your true parentage.

Maybe you're the older sister of Jace and Luke, or maybe even a twin of Jace.

Either way, there's a natural animosity between you and Alicent's children.

Especially with Aemond and your brothers.

When you were younger, you were aware your brothers would pick on Aemond.

Hell, Aemond's older brother Aegon even picked on him for not having a dragon.

Such a thing hurt the young prince's ego.

After all, even Rhaenyra's bastards got dragons.

Including you.

There's so much angst that can come from a pairing like this.

Maybe you didn't necessarily hate Aemond when you were younger.

Not until he took Vhagar, at least.

While Aemond knew what you were, you seemed to be the only one not to bully him.

Maybe it was because you weren't a boy, or because you were older and knew better...

But Aemond never fully hated you.

When you were all living in the Red Keep, you two playing with one another was a common sight.

Even though your mothers hated it.

You two originally got along... Aemond might've even experienced puppy love towards you.

As said before, he knows you're the eldest bastard daughter of Rhaenyra...

He shouldn't love you.

You're no pure Targaryen and he can tell your father isn't Velaryon.

But, being young, he felt you were the nicest lady he knew.

There's no big animosity until the Vhagar and Luke incident.

You were away at the time, unaware of the trouble the boys got into.

Only to hear Luke slashed Aemond's eye out... and Aemond took Vhagar as his dragon.

You no doubt wanted to check on Aemond, worried for him.

However, Alicent refuses such a thing.

Rhaenyra also keeps you from Aemond and Aegon.

There's a ton of volatility in your family... The safest option for a lady like you was Dragonstone with your family.

It's there your mother marries Daemon, and you're left to interact with just Jacaerys and Lucerys.

You may have even tried to send ravens to speak with Aemond.

Yet even those were intercepted.

As you can tell, Aemond being obsessed with you is... problematic.

Your mothers keep you away from each other due to what happened with Luke.

Pretty soon you may even adopt the animosity your brothers hold towards Aemond.

You haven't seen him in years and Jace is adamant on hating him.

After all, he hurt Luke, and he has no respect for your mother or the fact you're bastards.

Eventually... You accept those ideals.

Even if Aemond's feelings for you... weren't quite what you expected.

Aemond would feel conflicted when he notices his feelings haven't died down.

It's been years since you followed your mother to Dragonstone and his puppy love... isn't puppy love, it seems.

It's mostly conflicting because it isn't as easy as 'ask mother and father for a betrothal'.

His mother hates Rhaenyra and her children.

She wouldn't understand why Aemond has adoration for the sister of his attacker.

He should hate you.

Perhaps, in a way, he does hold resentment.

Although it's less towards you... and more towards everyone else.

I feel at first, there's rumors of a betrothal between Aemond and you.

It's all a way to mend the cracks in your family.

Originally marrying you to Aegon is discussed, eldest to eldest.

Yet that idea is shot down, leading to the possibility of Aemond marrying you.

It's no doubt discussed over a family dinner you're invited to.

Aemond may even try to encourage his mother to marry you to him.

Bastard or not... Aemond's loved you since childhood.

He tried to ignore it for a long time.

He even wondered if he wanted you close for revenge against your brothers.

Although, when he saw you enter the dining room in that dress no doubt picked out for you...

It only reminded him that you and him were once close... when no one else was.

You knew him when he was young, vulnerable, always picked on with no dragon in sight.

Now Aemond is a skilled swordsman and dragon rider, meant to protect his elder brother.

He didn't need your protection anymore...

Yet he still craved your comfort.

He doesn't care if his mother or your mother looks down on it...

He wants you.

The idea of betrothal between you and Aemond is considered briefly.

Viserys likes the idea, Rhaenyra is willing to go through with it... yet Alicent refuses.

The news sends Aemond into a... brooding mood.

To the point he even picks a fight over Jace and Luke at dinner.

He calls them bastards, both out of hate for losing his eye...

Along with the fact he never got to have you, all while you look all pretty in front of him.

All the young princes and princesses are separated and you begin to hate Aemond more...

Yet he continues to love you.

Even when you sit in the royal gardens to clear your head, Aemond can't help but watch you from the entryway.

He no doubt knows you hate him.

You've always been protective of your siblings... and Aemond outed all three of you as Strong children.

Maybe Aemond even tries to approach you, to talk to you.

It's been years yet you meet him with a glare.

His fault, really.

He sits by you, admits he missed you, he never meant to hurt you specifically...

He may even admit he wishes the betrothal went through.

You ignore most of his words, even when he tries to sit closer.

He's sorry... to only you...

He wants you as his.

He wants his mother to change her mind.

But you merely say you're not meant to be...

Making you leave soon after, as Aemond watches you through his one good eye.

Why won't you love him again... Is it because of your family...?

Did you ever truly love him?

Things only seem to get worse when Vhagar kills Luke, and war efforts begin.

While Aemond is The Greens most skilled warrior and dragon rider, he's vulnerable when it comes to love.

Like Aegon, he can be vulnerable in private.

He thinks of you often alone in his chambers.

Truthfully... He craves your comfort, the same comfort you gave him when you were young kids.

He wishes you would have joined him in matrimony... then you could be a Green.

Yet instead, like the loyal daughter you are, you believe mother knows best.

So you stay beside your mother and Jace, looking at The Greens with disdain.

You ride a dragon of your own, much smaller than Vhagar, but a dragon nonetheless.

Imagine if sometime after he fights Rhaenys and burns his brother... He finds you.

He finds your dragon on an escort mission, riding above men sided with The Blacks.

Imagine if Aemond decides, if he wants you, he's going to have to catch you.

Your dragon isn't as strong as Vhagar, it's an unfair fight, really.

The men you're escorting end up being burned alive by Vhagar.

The smell of burning hair and screaming comes from horses and men alike.

Much to your dismay and fear... as you know this beast killed your brother.

Aemond is careful when dealing with you.

He makes Vhagar knock you off your dragon.

Your dragon screeches as Vhagar's large head rams it in the air.

You end up falling off your dragon, thinking you're going to fall to your death...

Only for Aemond to capture you.

He catches you on Vhagar's back, securing you to him with an arm.

You can struggle... but that's a long drop.

"Hello, love..." Aemond purrs, his eye watching you with desire. "It's been a while...."

Your dragon will only be spared if you behave.

You become a prisoner of war, your dragon locked in the Dragonpit.

Aemond originally has you kept in a cell while he plays the role of king for his injured brother.

However, eventually, you see him enter the dungeons with a proposition.

"Be mine... and I'll let you out."

You can hold out as long as you can...

But you never had much of a choice.

Aemond will make you his bride this way.

His mother may protest, but she can't fight him this time.

The Greens need another dragon rider.

With you tied to Aemond through marriage... He'll get what he's wanted for years... and another dragon to command.

Aemond seems intimidating, especially in power.

Although, in private, when he encourages you to sleep in his chambers.

He's soft.

He treats you like he did when you were kids.

He commands you to lay on his bed, while he curls up in your lap.

Aemond loves you more than any other.

You may be his prisoner, this may be forced...

Yet he's his happiest when you two are finally married.

He's gentle as he can be during your eventual consummation...

But his grip is tight enough to remind you of your position.

Aemond tore you from your family, made you his bride...

Now he wants you to bear his heirs.

You're unhappy, you hate this and miss your mother.

Unfortunately, This will be your fate sooner or later.

Despite Aemond's soft affection and loving words while he cuddles you close... You know better...

You're a trophy, a prisoner of war, a hostage...

You're a possession now bound to him through marriage... all his, forever and always.

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #yandere asoiaf #yandere aemond targaryen

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demigod-jack-hearth · 6 months ago

Text

THIS IS A SELF INSERT PJO OC RP BLOG

Please don't send donation asks because 1, I'm a minor and can't donate, 2, I feel guilty that I can't donate and 3, I can't tell whether they're scams or not

Moodboard by @reyna4ever

TWs

(mental health issues, SH, suicidal mentions, SA, occasionally gore, swearing)

Family is the most important thing

Name: Jack Hearth she/her

Age: 17. Birthday= 16th December

Sexuality : pansexual

Height : 6"2 (WOOOO, growth spurt)

Gender : female (jack's gone fully fem)

Pronouns : she/her

Godly parent: none/adopted by Hestia @unproblematic-hestia

Legacy of @bast-the-best26 (Egyptian goddess of cats)

Relationship status : single

Patrons

warm orange eyes, swimmers build, celestial bronze hand

Fatal flaw: low self-esteem + personal loyalty

Backstory :

parents died in a car crash, and she was chased by hellhounds, this is where Hestia found and saved her life, she then named her, her champion even if she is mortal, she then helped her get to CHB where she stayed for 6 years, before moving to CJ after the second giant war. She now moves between camps quite often

Powers : fire manipulation, can heal with fire, fire immunity, can summon food, charmspeak, manipulate love, enhanced agility, enhanced senses, partially immortal, plant manipulation, emotion manipulation, can communicate with cats, hydrokinetic, can speak with snakes, can sense monsters, can shapeshift, can control the winds, heals from moonlight, more energy from the moon, can cause someone to go insane, can communicate with dragons, can slightly control dragons, can create hallucinations

Parents : dead

Adopted by

@unproblematic-hestia = mom

@damiedantediane = dad

@mache-of-greece = mama

Siblings :

@thegroovydaughterofhestia

@unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia

@iceweavercatlover

Kids

Face claim :

Cat form

His weapons

There's 2 of these ⬇️

Important starters

Few occ notes

I also run the blog @in-this-together-forever @jacks-best-kid @snowflake-spawn @the-olympus-assassin

OCC is gender fluid - please use they/them unless I've specified

Occ is pan - I will make a lot of jokes about it

A lot of British jokes will be made - I am British

Fanart ⬇️

#intro #oc #pjo oc #pjo rp #rp blog #Spotify #tw #tw self harm #tw suicide #TW #TW sh #self harm #suicide #self insert #SA

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lairofsentinel · 16 days ago

Text

Since this user's posts seem to have been deleted in previous opportunities I copy-paste their words here because they express exactly what I feel about this game. Dragon Age has died, unfortunately.

I'm a big time Dragon Age lover and have enjoyed every game in the series. Personally, I think Inquisition is the best in the series. And I was excited for Veilguard right up until I actually began playing it. Now, I want to clear things up at the start as to what I look for and believe makes a good Dragon Age game. To start, I DON'T CARE ABOUT COMBAT. I. Do. Not. Care.

You can make it Origins tactical. DA2 fast tactical. DAI hybrid. God of War action, I don't care. Dragon Age has always had combat that was...fine. A nice distraction and breakup in between the bits I actually care about: narrative ROLEPLAYING, story, characters, and exploration. I don't give a crap how great the combat is if the narrative roleplaying and writing are poor, I'm not playing BioWare titles for amazing gameplay. I am here for the story, the characters, and the roleplaying. Truth is, for a time I considered DATV's combat to be the best in the series.

And this is why I feel the game is a terrible Dragon Age, because it lacks or fails to respect those elements concerned with narrative roleplaying, story, characters, and exploration. Now, in many reviews and online videos you'll hear some reference often to the drop in writing quality. And a lot of time people will incorrectly say that the writing with the characters is to "modern" or "Marvel quippy" or not "dark" enough. I think these people are wrong, they recognize there is a drop in writing quality from previous games but aren't able to articulate why that is.

Dragon Age has never adopted any sort of faux medieval speech and vocabulary (though we'll get into this more later). This is a series that used "epic fail" as a thing someone uttered in the very first game. It's always had anachronistic dialogue and banter. So why is it such a drop then? Why is it considered poor? Simple. This is a game that does not believe in the world it has setup for over a decade. It does not believe in or engage properly with its own world and lore. I mean, look no further than the title "The Veilguard" a phrase that is never uttered by anyone in our group, and further proof it was a last minute marketing change. Compare to Inquisition where the title is apparent from the start in the game and has actual meaning.

You see, characters in DATV do not feel or react to events the way they should based on the lore. Why is no one constantly asking what the hell the Inquisitor is doing? The Inquisitor is kind of a BIG DEAL when it comes to Solas and Elven Gods, my Inquisitor drank from the WELL OF SORROWS! So why are we sitting around thinking at the start, "hmm lemme think who I can contact who might know more." The Herald of Andraste! They know more Rook, the guy that is technically your boss. The Inquisitor! Who else have you been working for this entire time? Who do you think told Varric to recruit you?!

But even removing the Inquisitor, the Elven Gods being real and also near synonymous with the old Tevinter Gods is kind of a BIG DEAL. It was only a theory fans crafted long ago that slowly revealed itself to be true. And it completely upends known religious dogma on all sides. Yet, why aren't people we meet going through a massive existential crisis? For instance, the Veil Jumpers we initially meet were presumably told off-screen about Fen'Harel, and are seemingly cool with this massive knowledge alone. But then we talk about those two other Gods being released and they're like, "well, shit those two aren't good." As if they have any clue if the fables about those Gods are real when we previously just upended everything they thought about the Dreadwolf! Why are you acting like this is another Tuesday?! Your entire religion is wrong. In that same conversation, Strife notes "Solas might be a bastard, but compared to the Evunaris? Let's just say they weren't know for being kind rulers."

My brother in Anduril, what are you talking about! Elven religion teaches that Elgar'nan was so beloved by the Earth that it "the land brought forth great birds and beasts of sky and forest, and all manner of wonderful green things." And that he fought the jealous Sun that tried to burn the land and all beasts away. Custom says that he and Mythal, "created the world as we know it" after defeating the Sun. He is literally described as one of the "good" Gods. WHY ARE YOU ASSUMING HE IS EVIL! It's like finding out Satan is real, but not as evil as have come to believe and then being told Jesus Christ is back and a devout Christian going, "well shit, that can't be good." WHAT?!

The same goes for Andraste and the Chant of Light, it took me 30 hours of playing before ONE character mentioned Andraste and the implications with the Chant and it was never brought up again. Our entire party is seemingly made up of unphased atheists. Now compare to something like Inquisition which explored this aspect HARD and was amazing for it. You'd get into great debates with religious figures and party members about the implications of Corypheus actually being a Tevinter Magister of old. And you'd talk about what it means towards the religious dogma preached and how much is true. And these intense political and religious discussions are present in every previous game, and not confined to a single conversation with one party member where it is seemingly resolved.

These conversations do not happen in DATV because there is no depth to the writing or engagement with the world. The Elven Gods are evil and need to be stopped. That's it. We don't need to think about the implications this has on Dalish customs and religion. Fuck it, all the Dalish are going to still wear their Vallaslin slave brand tattoos. Let's forget about Trespasser implying Solas was removing them from followers coming to join him. Let's even forget they were likely all told at this point that they are slave brands, nope still going to wear them yet speak blasphemy with every sentence against our Gods. No one cares about Andraste or The Maker or the Chant. Big deal if these Elven Gods contradict the overwhelming majority religion in Thedas. Not a single party member has religious or cultural objections to killing the Elven Gods; not a problem. Not one single elf wants to join Solas in tearing down The Veil and getting immortality again?

Again, let's forget about Trespasser setting up Solas gathering MANY Elven followers from Dalish clans who would be super inclined to join him after experiencing CENTURIES of discrimination and slavery by humans. The better question is what Elves wouldn't join Solas at the start? And what Elves wouldn't look at the other two Gods and go, "meh, maybe we should give them a try. They can't be worse than humans, right?" In DA2 you had elves joining The Qun to escape the discrimination of humans, but not ONE ELF wants to join Solas or Elgar'nan? Those Ancient Elves in the Temple of Mythal? I guess they all died, right?

This extends to EVERY single element of Dragon Age that previously had depth to it, it now has been completely removed. Those murdering Antivan Crows? Oh, they're just good Italian Mob Family that protect their city. Tevinter? Yes, it has poor people, but we're trying to do better. Oh, slavery? No, no we don't show that here. The Qun? The what now? No, they are all Antaam now, and so that means they are all generic evil warlords. No, they don't even attempt to follow their own hardcore view of The Qun like when Templars split from the Chantry, they're just warlords now that like plunder. Dwarves and their rigid Caste society? We don't do that here. Elves and racism across Thedas? Elves used to experience racism? News to me, what's a Shemlen? Never heard of that term, we like all humans. Pirates? That is insensitive, we are Lords of Fortune and we are sure to return any cultural artifacts found to their rightful owners; it belongs in a museum after all. The fucking Fade and spirits? Wait, you mean its different than generic fantasy spirit world? I'm sorry, that's too complicated here.

This either intentional disregard of the lore or plain ignorance also extends to environmental design. The asset reuse from Inquisition is particularly hilarious and must speak to the developers not having time after the switch from MP. Why are the same statues found in Val Royeaux in DAI also in Tevinter and Antiva? Why are those stupid Fen'Harel Wolf statues EVERYWHERE? Even in the catacombs of other Elven Gods! There are no statues of Elgar'nan or Ghilan'nain. Nothing for June or Anduril. Dirthamen. Falon'Din. Nothing. No, the only Gods that seem to get statues are coincidentally the ones who already had assets created for DAI or past titles that could be reused. Hmmm.

This continues into character designs too, why do the Veiljumpers and Shadow Dragons all dress richly? They are supposed to be poor as fuck. There's a codex entry about Veiljumpers finding a lost cache of old ancient elven armor and weapons and so boom they all get to dress like High Elven Lords and not the dirty, poor, wandering Dalish clans they are supposed to come from. Why do this? There isn't even an attempt to explaining why the Shadow Dragons, an organization supposed to be secretive, has branded clothing in bright rich colors and fabrics for all members. Naturally, it must be incredibly difficult for Tevinter authorities to not identify them.

This lack of depth and verisimilitude, naturally, affects all the characters. Because in this game you cannot roleplay and you cannot ask questions. In Dragon Age Inquisition, once you started the game, you could immediately interrogate Varric about what happened to every DA2 character despite the Inquisitor never meeting them, you know because it respects its players. You could speak to shop keepers, blacksmiths, your horse master. You could interrogate every single person to learn more about them and the world. The same goes for your player character in DA2 and Origins. You show in Denermin and find yourself knee deep in a quest to help Wade the Blacksmith craft the perfect armor. Here you can't actually speak to a single shopkeeper to ask questions and get some lore bits. You can't ask party members questions about their background, religious beliefs, upbringing, their factions, etc. You can't ask any returning characters any questions either about what they've been doing. Enter a brand new area? Great, you're not asking anyone questions about this never before seen place.

How does a lost Dwarven thaig survive every single blight? How are their immortal lichs in Neverra? How long has that been a thing? Why haven't they told anyone about the Elven gods or any other knowledge they've accumulated in an immortal lifespan? If immortality is so "easy" why can't Solas just do that to restore the Elves? Why are the Venatori, Tevinter Supremacists, following Elven Gods? Wouldn't that be a major identity crisis? Why would Antaam, who still preach the Qun, follow an Elven God that speaks blasphemy with ever breadth? Sshhhh, no questions. You get what is directly told to you and that's it, no follow-up questions.

Party members do not conflict with each other or interrogate each other's beliefs which is why their banter feels inconsequential and meaningless. Lucanis is a assassin, he kills people for money. The same organization that marked Zevran for death for failing a contract. The same one that took him as a kid and trained him to murder, often brutally, for coin. And yet no one really seems to care. He's just a nice Italian assassin from a nice assassin organization. Who cares. Let's instead talk about cooking, at length. Harding, a devout follower of Andraste, has no qualms with Elven Gods wreaking havoc on known religion. We get one conversation you can tell her to believe what she wants, and that's the end of that debate. Bellara also gets about two whole conversations about the conflict concerning her Gods wreaking havoc, both easily resolved. We don't need to think about any larger implications or doubt her loyalty when the Elven pantheon are seeking to restore her people that have been discriminated against since forever. Emmerich, a necromancer of Neverra, apparently has no religious belief. A codex entry even states that those of the Mourn Watch don't know where the soul goes after death. They don't like to think about it. Buddy, Mortalitasi belief is literally that our souls return to the Void alongside The Maker, but to keep balance a exchange must be wrought with The Fade to allow a spirit to house the now empty vessel. How do you not know the religion and customs of your own faction and land? This man has a whole quest line about funerary rights, yet not ONCE mentions religion and what he believes happens after death?! Sshhhh, no questions. No thinking.

Hey, remember The Fade? Remember how mages go to dream there every night. Remember how The Black City is always visible there? No? Well, we don't either. You won't see The Black City in The Fade. You might see it in The Crossroads in a closed off section, even though it is NOT The Fade. Oh, we're going to have you physically enter The Fade in multiple quest lines and no one will think it's a big deal. No, you still can't see The Black City. Now, The Fade is reduced to nothing more than your generic fantasy spirit world. It has none of the previous rules and lore that bound it before. Demons can bind to non-mages and we won't attempt to explain it. Solas fucks with The Veil and not a single mage notices a change in their dreams when they sleep at night. No biggie.

Lastly, let's return at last to the actual minutiae of writing. I stated at the start the writing isn't bad because of Marvel quippiness, which the series has always had. I was partly lying. Yes, the series has always had anachronistic dialogue. It has had meme language in its own previous titles. But, it was just that, a small joke here and there. For the most part the series actually tried to use it's own sort of "older" speech patterns. I think a perfect example has to do with Taash, she eventually finds her own identity and declares she is proudly "non-binary." Literally stating, "so, I'm non-binary." I have no issue with this sort of inclusivity in Dragon Age, it's what the series is known for. Yet, why does that sound wrong? Simple, it's far too anachronistic. It doesn't belong in Dragon Age. In Inquisition, Dorian let's us know he's gay. But he doesn't say, "I'm gay!" or "I'm a homosexual" those terms would not exist in his world. Instead he says, "I prefer the company of men."

And it's these little subtle changes in writing that makes it feel all the more different. We went from "I once ventured in to The Fade to serve the Old Gods of Tevinter in person. I found there only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. Now I shall return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world gone wrong. Pray that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the Gods. And it was empty."

To: "Well, shit. That can't be good."

So, what do we have when all is said and done? Well, we have a decent generic fantasy action game. An intentional attempt by the developers to remove every edge from the world of Dragon Age in place of a very simple, easy to understand world with not much depth beyond what you see. You don't need to think, just play and have fun. This is beyond turning a MP game into a SP game, which so blatantly obvious in this game. DA2 was developed in 16 months, but is carried strong by its writing. You see, nothing prevented them from just acknowledging their own world they created. It costs very little to write around what already exists. Even if you can't make no assets or redesign the world. Writing is cheap and having characters voice these elements is not as costly as a redesign. No, they chose to remove the edge in every element because this was design intentionally for the masses with easy to understand world and zero depth.

But I wanted to play Dragon Age. I wanted to get into intense religious debates with party members as known lore is completely upended. I wanted to debate Elvish clans deciding to join Solas or the other Gods due to their treatment by human society. I wanted to debate the ethics of necromancy with the Mortalitasi of Neverra's Crypts. I wanted to engage in intense debating with Solas on the ethics of his goal. I wanted to see Tevinter react to a real push for anti-slavery and actually see the slavery in the slave capital of the world. I wanted to butt heads with the Antivan Crows and call them out for the murderers they are. I wanted to see the Black Divine and debate the Chant of Light with them. I wanted to speak to the Archon of Tevinter and see how he felt about the Venatori's past efforts in Inquisition. Hey, what happened to Meredith Reborn in Kirkwall and her idol and Red Templar worshipers? Forget about it.

We got none of this. I got a game that is pretty much disrespectful of its own world. I waited 10 years for this? Why even bother if this is the result? They may as well have just killed every previous character we ever knew, including Solas, offscreen and started anew with this game. Because as a Dragon Age game and sequel, it's terrible and no returning character is how they should be.

And when we get to the ending, that's pretty much what they did. Everything you did in all the past games? Well, that was pointless. Everyone is probably dead. King Alistair. Gaspard. Celene. King Bhelen. The Arl of Redcliffe. The Divine. The Circle of Magi. The Templars. The Seekers. Everything, everyone, and every organization that existed in the South is likely dead and destroyed. And now Dragon Age can become what they wanted, a generic fantasy IP.

But I just wanted to play Dragon Age.

#dragon age #dragon age critical #dragon age spoilers #I finished this game... and now just mourn the end of a fantasy world that was so much and now is nothing

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aclassitag · 6 months ago

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Announcing Krem Week!

#kremweek2024 — 22-28 July 2024

background art credit: @xfreischutz [link to original post]

*text prompt list under the readmore

This year will mark 10 years since the release of Dragon Age: Inquisition! In celebration of that anniversary and the game that gave us our first trans character, here is a prompt list - and dates - for any who would like to participate! All sorts of creative content is accepted so long as they are not A/I generated. (See examples below)

*If you want to portray Maevaris Tilani instead, that is also fine!

Please read the guidelines!

If you have any questions, reply to this post and I will do my best to answer :)

Prompt list:

1 — Anniversary 2 — Euphoria / Expression 3 — Casual / Formal 4 — Family / Love 5 — Respite / Fight 6 — Play / Satiate 7 — (Free space!)

Guidelines:

Use the tag: #kremweek2024 (@ this blog is fine too) — If you want to portray Maevaris Tilani instead of Krem, that is also welcome! Please @ me so I can rb :) For non-Tumblr folks that somehow got here: You may post submissions, please link your socials. You may choose one of two prompts in a day or do both. You may also combine as many prompts as you want from any or all of the days into a single work, just mention it somewhere.

Types of content allowed:

Illustration and writing are the most obvious forms of art allowed, but they're not the only ones! Literary arts fanfics, drabbles, poetry, plays, lengthy headcanon/meta posts (for headcanon and meta posts, minimum of 100 words+) Visual arts doodles, paintings, graphic design, photoshop memes, photography, animation, tiktok skits, abstract, fiber arts (embroidery, knitting, etc), ceramics Audio art fanmixes(curated playlists), original or cover songs Other crafts are also welcome! e.g. culinary, resin, woodworking, etc etc ..essentially, whatever type of art it is, I'll accept it so long as it falls within rules and is related to Krem or Maevaris :) For things that are more abstract, do include an explanation of your thought process on how it relates to Krem. E.g. you made Krem's Seheron Fish Wrap or Rice Pudding, take photos of your cooking, and post that (with the explanation that it is Krem's recipes) - that's an acceptable submission! You're allowed to explore different mediums everyday! You don't have to stick to one form of art for the whole week. I will be attempting to schedule reblogs in the 'prime time' for engagement, and in the interest of fairness, things like headcanon posts, fanmixes, and WIPs will not take priority in that time slot over fully rendered illustrations or complete fanfics. They will still be reblogged, but scheduled for other time slots.

Content Rules:

No A/I generated content. (Specifically GenAI content) As above, any and all forms of art is welcome. It must be human made, and by you. The whole point of working off a prompt is to explore a creative process, anyway - do yourself a favour and just enjoy making something! It doesn't have to be pretty! No reposting of other people's works. This must be your own creation. Obviously, no transphobic content. No harrassing others over their specific headcanons - be it in regards to any trait or quirks that come with being a person. People come in all sorts of wonderful variety, please respect that. In addition to above: No whitewashing, racism etc. Please note that Krem is not pale-skinned in canon, and I will not be reblogging content of him being portrayed as pale. 18+ works need to be labelled. On this blog, its tagged as "#adult art". Please add content warnings as appropriate. (E.g. portrayal of binding with bandages should have a warning label of "cw: unsafe binding", etc.) If your post/submission is lengthy, please insert a read more. This helps readability on the dashboard. Progress / WIPs are fine too!

General tips:

First and foremost, do what you are able to! Don't feel pressured to complete a full week if you need to take care of yourself first. Some people work on the prompts before the week even begins, and only post it day of. You are not required to do this, but if you really want to fill something for each day, this helps reduce stress day of.

Mod things:

The mod isn't from the Americas, so due to timezone differences, there may be a delay in reblogging people's works. Either way I will not reblog the moment that it's posted in order to screen properly. Posts will be queued between 30mins-1hr apart, if there are multiple entries being submitted at the same time. All submissions will also be requeued after a week for later perusal :)

#cremisius aclassi #kremweek2024 #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #bull's chargers #iron bull #also i am. running out of krem posts. help #krem aclassi

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acealistair · 1 year ago

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RPG Character Development Questions!

Trying my hand at making one of these, specifically aimed towards D&D characters but it should also work for other TTRPGs and video games like Dragon Age.

Send me any number of emojis for any of my characters! Anyone is welcome to reblog! 😊

~*~*~CHARACTER DESIGN~*~*~

👀: Describe their physical appearance in as much detail as possible. Facial features, colors, height, build, etc. 👄: How do they talk? What's their vocabulary like? What does their voice sound like? Any accent, verbal tics, etc? 👃: Do they smell like anything in particular? Why do they smell like that? 🏷️: What is their full name? Do any of their names have any special meaning? How did you come up with them? 🌳: What physical traits did they inherit from their biological parents? Do they look more like one parent than the other? ♦️: Are there any motifs you associate with them? What do those motifs represent thematically? 🎨: What is their color scheme? Or at least colors you associate them with? 🔮: If they were to feature in the art of a tarot card, which one would it be and why? 💭: What was the original concept for your OC? Has it changed at all since then? 📺: Is your OC inspired at all by characters from other media? Which one(s) and what traits do they have in common? 🛡️: How does their class inform their characterization? How does their personality match or clash with the stereotype for that class? 📖: Describe your ideal character arc for them. How do you envision them changing by the end of the story?

~*~*~SKILLS/HOBBIES~*~*~

📊: What is their best stat? What is their worst/dump stat? How do these affect how you roleplay as them? 🗡️: What type of weapon do they normally use? Is there a particular reason for it? ✨: Are they a magic user? If so, how did they come to learn it (born with it, studied, acquired, etc.)? What does their magic look like when cast? If not, what is their attitude towards magic? 🖌️: What is their go-to hobby? When did they start learning it? Why do they like it? 🔨: Do they have any practical skills they wouldn't consider a hobby? What sorts of skills and how/why did they learn them? 🍳: Are they good at cooking? Do they like to? Why and how did they learn to cook, or, if they didn't, why didn't they? 🎵: Are they any good at singing? What situations do/would they sing in? Would they sing in the shower? 🎻: Do they know how to play an instrument? If so which one(s)? Do they enjoy music in general? 💃: How do they feel about dancing and are they any good at it? Do they prefer solo, partnered, or group dancing? 🚗: In a modern AU, what kind of job would they have, if any? 🎁: If they needed to give a friend a gift, how would they go about choosing one? Would they buy it, make it, or do something else? Would others consider them good at gift-giving? 📚: Do they like to read books? If so, what sorts of books do they prefer to read? If not, why don't they like reading? ✍: What does your character's handwriting look like? Do they write letters often? What other contexts do they usually write in, if any?

~*~*~PERSONALITY~*~*~

🙂: What are three of their personality traits that others would generally consider positive? 🙁: What are three of their personality traits that others would generally consider negative? 😱: Do they have any irrational fears/phobias? How do they cope with them? Has a phobia ever impacted the game you play them in? 😭: How easily do they cry? Do they ever cry in front of other people? When was the last time they cried? 💢: How quick are they to anger? What is a surefire way to piss them off? What do they act like when angry? 😄: How can you tell when they're really happy? What sorts of things make them happy? How often do they smile? 😳: How easily are they embarrassed/flustered? What sorts of things catch them off-guard and make them lose their cool? 🏁: What do they consider to be their main goal in life, the thing that motivates most of their actions? 🤲: Do they have any deep desires that they don't talk about and/or don't even realize they have? Do these desires conflict with their main goal at all? 🗣️: How social are they? Do they speak to strangers because they like to or only when necessary? How differently do they act with strangers vs. friends? 🐾: How do they feel about animals? Do they have/want any pets? Do they have a favorite animal?

~*~*~BACKSTORY~*~*~

😬: Did they ever make a major decision in their past that they regret? How are they handling it now? 🙏: What are their feelings on religion? If they are religious, what do they practice? How much of an impact does it have on their daily life? 🎓: What was their education like? Do they have any favorite subjects? What is their preferred learning style? 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦: What is their family like? Are there any family members that are particularly influential and/or important to them (whether in a positive or negative sense)? 🛝: Do they have any childhood friends? If so, are they still in touch with them? What is their relationship like now (or why did it end)? 🧸: What was their favorite childhood toy and why? 🚸: Would they consider their childhood to have been a happy one? Why or why not? Does their perception of that differ from yours as their player? 🌹: Are they experienced romantically? How many romantic partners have they had? How has this affected their view of romance? 😡: Do they have any enemies and/or rivals from their past? How serious of a threat are they to your OC?

~*~*~RELATIONSHIPS~*~*~

💘: Do they have a "canon" romantic partner? If so, who is it and what is their relationship like? If not, what kind of person would be the optimal romantic partner for them (the most interesting narratively, not necessarily the healthiest/what they think their preferences are)? 😍: What traits, physical and/or mental, do they find attractive in other people? 💒: How does your character feel about marriage? Have their feelings on marriage ever changed? 🎉: Who are their party members/companions? Describe each of their relationships with your OC (however brief or detailed you want). 💍: Among their current companions, are there any that are narrative foils to your OC? How so? 🍼: How do they feel about children in general? Do kids get along with them? Do they have/want kids of their own (now or down the line)? 🤝: How do they express platonic affection? When does an acquaintance become a friend for them? 🥰: Who do they currently consider to be their best friend and why? Has their best friend changed over time? 🫂: How are they with casual physical touch? Do they have different boundaries based on how well they know a person? Is there a specific reason behind their comfort level?

#been working on this for a while! i'm certain i'll think of more questions after posting but at this point i just gotta post it #u can find my characters in my pinned post if u'd like to send me any! :3 cosette is who i'm fixating on atm since baldy gate lol #but finch is always a hit too #and of course feel free to reblog for urself!#oc ask game #oc ask meme #oc ask prompts

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bharv · 29 days ago

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Listen I’m sorry that I veer wildly between seeming excited and negative. It’s not important in the context of the horrors of rest of the world. It’s not important compared to other things in my life. It’s not even important to other fans and wider fandom.

Dragon Age has just for better or worse (worse, it’s worse) been my hyperfocus since I was 22 years old and what it’s seemingly going through is not an isolated thing but a shift in all media which is making me feel isolated and hopeless as a consumer but also as a creator.

I’m not an Origins was perfect person. But I’m also not really here for people swinging in the other direction and saying that we shouldn’t want to keep anything from the birth of the series. The move of everything into needing to be this quippy, light, surface level bundle of tropes is killing me.

Of course Origins wasn’t all doom and gloom, and I think that’s one of the things it does so well (as does 2!) There is darkness abounding but it tells a story of people coming together, both at a human level of a group of people trying their best to save the world but also allies coming to your aid to defend their flawed society and try, in some small way, to make it better. It’s not a “gotcha” to go hey you think origins is so serious what about Alistair and all his silly lines. That’s the point of what makes it good! Alistair is facing grief and horror and decides to stay who he is, unless you actively harden him against it!

But that kind of storytelling is only earned if you’re not afraid to have the darkness. If you’re not worried about spoonfeeding every bit of information to your audience. You have to trust us and I’m. Not convinced any creators do anymore. And it’s not just happening in gaming. It’s happening across media, publishing, even creating music where artists have no real need to create a song longer than a minute or so for use in a tiktok short.

Anyway. Days away, and I’m just hoping I like it. That’s my hope. I hope I like it enough that I find my hook, even if that hook is just turn brain off at the door and enjoy some little bits of character. Because the greatest heartbreak for me would be indifference.

#long post #sorry lads

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gojou-violin · 2 years ago

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oh, little brother~

family ties collab with @killsaki

| pairing: younger!brother!meguru bachira x fem!reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. dead dove, do not eat. incest. dub-con. virginity loss. corruption kink go brrrrrrr. slight manipulation. cum eating. blowjob. vaginal fingering. vaginal penetration. feeding cum. guys. guys. it's really perverted..... listen...... i-

| wc: 5.9k

| taglist: @aylitgirl , @sailewhoremoon , @justanotherpasserby-blog , @lyteatus , @bakugosgorl , @unknownspecies , @bleuboyfriend , @theyluvizzy , @drakensdarling , @itoshis-after-dark , @alekstraszas , @mimic-of-hysy , @garden-variety-skeleton , @daddyisyourmommy , @dragon-chica , @princesssofiyuh , @skiagrafia , @pr0dkang , @erenslver , @nemjun

| a/n: if i hear one person complaining about this when the warnings are very clear............. also. if i have to make this obvious....... bachira is aged up to be over 18. 'k, cool.

Some people were so adorable that you could just eat ‘em up. You take one look at them, see how small and precious they are, how lost they can seem, how they clearly need someone to guide them through every small part of life because all they know how to do is sit there and look pretty. Most people got jealous if they saw someone like that, but not you. No, no. The cute and innocent ones were those that you could scoop up to hide in your pocket, and that made you content. Patting them on the head, telling them they’re doing great. Taking their hand to lead them. Watching their faces turn a bright red color whenever they’d get embarrassed of themselves because of something you’d say or do just to get them riled up. Fuck… How perfect the innocent could be.

For the longest time, though, you had to ignore that heartstring-tugging urge whenever you were around one person specifically. It was a shame, relly. Out of all the blushy and small ones you’d seen, he was by far the most ravishable. But no one would understand. No one. Perhaps not even him. You had to observe from afar while pushing the envelope a bit here and there just to test the waters for reactions out of him; Like how he’d panic and blush whenever you’d compliment him for passing an exam with flying colors. Your favorite bone to throw him was whenever he’d do so well in a soccer match, you’d hug him tight— Despite how sweaty he’d be— and praise him to Hell and back for being the best striker in the whole world. He always melted in your arms. That was the highest praise he could ever receive from the person who’d always looked after him and loved him. Whenever he’d smile up at you, thanking you for the compliments, you were always on the verge of breaking, of snatching him up and stealing him away, but he’d always end it with, “Big Sis,” and reality crept back in. Observe from afar. No matter what.

Meguru had been in love with soccer since the day he was born. In fact, you could vividly remember how your parents bought him toy soccer balls even as a baby. As you two grew up, he’d beg you to kick the ball around with him in the backyard— A task that originally started off as a nuisance, but as you got older, you began to enjoy it more because you got to spend quality time with your brother outside of talking about school and complaining about your parents. In high school, though, he took soccer so seriously that it became his entire life. He’d wake up early to train, go to school, train between classes, train after school, eat, train, sleep, repeat. He hardly had any time for you anymore. His own sister! Who could believe that! But, fine, if that was what he wanted, you could support him, because that was what siblings did.

In college, things slowed down for him. He played soccer for the team at university that gave him a full-ride scholarship so he hardly had to worry about his studies. You continued to watch from afar. Again, cheering him on at each of his games, praising him for passing the exams he studied for (or didn’t— you’d never admit it to your parents). In between all of that, though, Meguru spent his time with you. Whenever you would get lunch together, he’d pick at his food while reflecting on how he could still get better at soccer even after all these years; or he would stare at you so… longingly… whenever you would be talking about your own courses and how they were getting harder now that you were close to graduating. You always told him to appreciate how easy the first year could be.

But it was those looks that made your heart tug. His eyes could get so big, his pupils dilated so much that you felt like you could read his thoughts that were screaming: “How magnificent you are, Big Sis.” And how you hated that. How wicked he was for teasing you while you could never have him… It could have been so easy for you to lure him in with the praises and leading if he had been anyone else in the world, but with Meguru, you had to be careful. His big eyes were a trap. His red cheeks were akin to the voice of a siren.

“Are you okay?” he asked you suddenly.

You snapped out of your trance to look up at him. “Y-yeah—”

Meguru had just finished another match that you attended and he won. After celebrating with his teammates for about an hour on the field, everyone dispersed to do their own things, which usually meant the two of you would go out to get food. Your sudden and interrupted trip down memory lane had been triggered by Meguru coming out of his bedroom, slowly struggling to pull his shirt over his head while trying to avoid his wet hair since he had just showered; and you had gotten caught up in staring at his abs and V-line that was quite revealing due to his low-hanging sweatpants. His midriff made you freeze up. The shirt he was wearing must have been about an inch or two short, because even as he was reaching up to tie his hair out of his face, you could still see his flat stomach…

He smiled oh-so-innocently at you. “Where to, then?”

“I…”

Usually you had your act together. Observe from a distance, remember? Never be too obvious. Don’t let anyone ever assume that you were staring at your younger brother who was now kneeling down by your feet to tie his shoes.

He was right there. Within reach.

That innocent look. The lost puppy who needed to be told where to go and what to do. The fact that he’d tease you with how he dressed and behaved around you.

Be careful. Don’t be stupid.

“Megu… Why don’t you change into something else before we go out?”

He furrowed his brows. “Why?”

“Well it’s a bit cold for something so…”

Every bit of reason you had left went flying out the window the second he started rolling the waistband of his sweatpants so that they could hang even lower on his hips without him dripping on the bottom hems.

You grabbed his hands to stop him from going any further, yanking him towards you so that he stumbled forward, falling onto your lap, his shirt riding up, his face buried in your shoulder. He yelped as it happened. It was all so sudden, the way you went from the kind and caring big sister you’d always been, to someone acting all on instincts that had been building up for far too long. He tried to push himself up by supporting his hands on your knees, but you caught him by the wrists again to keep him right there on your lap, his face daringly close to yours so that you could see every bit of confusion and panic in his big eyes.

You giggled at him. “Oh, little brother…” you cooed sweetly. “What to do with you.”

He blushed under your intense stare.

“What is it? Cat got your tongue?”

That confidence you knew you had in you instantly returned to you once you knew you had the upper hand once he could no longer tease you. If only he knew the consequences of playing with your emotions like that… Someone so innocent should have never been pushing his pants that low while wearing a shirt one size too small.

“Were you hoping to catch someone’s attention at lunch?”

He tried to push off again, yet you held steady.

“Some other college girl you have in mind, Megu?”

“No…”

“No? Then why’re you showing off so much?”

Observe from afar. Don’t let anyone know.

Your cold palm slid over his abdomen, working down, down, down as you felt his muscles contact until you were resting right over the waistband of his sweatpants. Meguru relaxed a bit on your lap as he anticipated your next move. You tsked your tongue while gently scratching his stomach with your nails. He squirmed.

“You don’t feel embarrassed when dressing like this in front of your own sister?”

In the most adorable way imaginable, he actually mewled and wiggled around to get you to touch him more— Your own brother! Begging you so pathetically to do more. Perhaps you should have expected him to be so needy and responsive when you knew for a fact that he’d never dated anyone, or even made out. Despite being the star soccer player in both high school and college, he always ignored the girls that fawned over him, then he had the audacity to always complain to you about how lonely he was and how he was certain no girl would ever want him as much as he wanted them. You assumed he was just incredibly picky. Never in a million years would you have guessed that he just needed someone to teach him what to do. You could have taught him everything he needed to know if he would have told you sooner! Talking to girls, flirting with them, asking them out… Making out with them… Fucking them…

“What is it, Megu?” you teased, payback for his post-shower display.

As he maneuvered on your lap to sit on you completely so that he was comfortable with his back pressed against your chest, you couldn’t help but drift over his crotch— It was an accident, of course. You hadn’t meant to go so far after years of promising to not go so far; but he’d done it. Maybe it was on purpose. Maybe he didn’t know better. Whatever the case was, it happened, and you could suddenly feel just how hard your little brother was in his sweatpants.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

You swooned mentally.

Every bit of what you loved about the small and cute type was right in your hands, quite literally falling onto your lap. The opportunity was too good to give up or go back now. Pushing off the little voice in the back of your mind, you finally slipped your hand under his waistband.

“Need to warm up my hands somewhere, Megu, I’m sorry.”

He turned to hide his face in the crook of your neck. Whether it was to hide his shame or excitement, you honestly couldn’t be sure, yet that didn’t deter you from using your thumb to swipe over his tip to get a feel for what you were working with. What had your little brother been hiding from you all this time? Pre-cum was already dribbling onto his pubic bone, coating your thumb. Poor thing needed someone to get him off so badly. You couldn’t give in so easily, though, not when this delicacy was something that would likely only ever happen once, and if he was too uneducated or inexperienced, he could be easily spooked off your lap and out of the room. You had to keep luring him in the same way you would with any of the other lost puppies you came across. So you pulled your hand back out and brought your thumb to his lips.

“Taste yourself, Megu.”

He looked up at you warily, his big eyes pouting.

“Look, it’s not that bad.” You licked your thumb while staring at him, your heart skipping a beat. “You taste good.”

He watched as you slid back down to gather more pre-cum from inside of his pants, not even touching his erection this time. So pathetically needy. And as you came back up, he willingly opened his mouth for you, sticking his tongue out and everything.

“Look at me while you do it.”

Those eyes of his fell in love with you the second your thumb made contact with his tongue. You could felt how slick and gentle he was with it, how he first wanted to try it before leaning in all the way, wrapping his warm lips around your thumb entirely, all while still staring right at you like you told him to.

With a pop, you pulled your thumb out of his mouth, catching him off guard fast enough to lean down and in to kiss him. He sat on your lap, unsure of what to do. You knew that if he regretted it, he would have pushed you off again and run off— He had the strength for it from soccer— but instead he waited, trying to see what you were doing and how you were doing it. So you taught him. Without a single word, you kissed him harder, hoping that he’d catch the hint and kiss you back. It took another second for him to get the hang of it, understanding that all it took was leaning into you while trying to kiss back the best he could. He wasn’t good at it by any means, but it was his first time, and you appreciated his eagerness to try and learn with you.

“You’d never lie to me, right, Megu?”

“Never,” he insisted.

“You’ve never been with anyone, right?”

For as much as you two talked, maybe there was a secret hiding in there that your younger brother never felt comfortable sharing with you; but now that you were doing something that you’d have to share as a secret for the rest of your lives, so of course he could fess up if he needed to. However, Meguru shook his head. It was true, what you’d always known about him, that he was so oblivious to everything you’d been thinking, otherwise he would have caught onto the other girls who all thought the same things about him. Your little brother. A virgin. You were even his first kiss. You wanted more. How could you stop there? You were already knee-deep in trouble, anyhow…

“Are you scared?” you asked calmly.

He nodded. “We shouldn’t do this.”

Your touch left him, despite his pitiful complaint via another whimper. “You can leave, Megu, I’m not gonna stop you.” For a moment, you hesitated to see if he’d actually take you up on the offer, until you were content with how he stayed glued to his seat on your lap. You grinned. “Or you can stay with Big Sis,” you whispered in his ear, “and I can teach you anything you want to know.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention when you began to kiss his jawline, hands grabbing his hips, your feet squeezing between his so that you could hook his legs around yours, forcing him to spread open for you.

“Is that something you’d be interested in, Megu?”

Your hand drifted over his erection, your palm grinding back and forth to create some fiction for him. Much to your surprise, he turned slightly to face you before attempting to kiss you sloppily. Your own little brother, trying his absolute best to now impress you, someone who took much pride in how much experience you had in ruining sweet things like Meguru.

“Tell me what you want,” you mumbled against his lips.

He pulled away. Those dark eyes bore into your soul as he told you, deadpan, “Everything.”

Your grip on his hips tightened. “Careful what you wish for.”

Despite how fit he was because of soccer, Meguru had always been small enough for you to pick up whenever you were teasing him— And while you couldn’t get far with him anymore, you could get exactly where you needed to go: Right back to his bedroom. A few stumbling steps with him in your arms, you managed to make it, quickly “tossing” him, for lack of a better term, onto the bed.

He scrambled onto the mattress, almost like he was creating a cautious distance between the two of you. Was he scared now? The door was right there, wide open, anyone could walk in on you at any moment if they had a spare key, or if they knew where the extra was hidden outside of his apartment. It would be so embarrassing for him to run out if he wanted while hard because of his big sister. It would be even worse if someone did happen to catch the two of you. Part of you liked the exhilarating feeling that gave you the courage to climb onto the bed; Meanwhile the other part of you was warning you to be careful. The neighbors knew you two were home together because they congratulated Meguru on his win when you ran into them in the hallway. If they heard anything suspicious, they’d surely know immediately what you two were up to. But you wished so desperately to ruin your little brother. You could imagine what the next few minutes could potentially look like based on your past experiences. Him whining your name while on the verge of tears was up there on your wishlist. Seeing him get red with embarrassment while he would be cumming because of you was another dream.

Without a word, you slid between Meguru’s legs, leaning down to kiss him while cradling the sides of his head to hold him steady. Your pelvis grinded up against his. Still as hard as he’d been out in the living room where he’d been teasing you. Did he do it on purpose? You were certain that he must have been. Did he expect that things would go this far? Was he hoping that you had the balls to finally leap at him? Was he playing with fire all because he liked the attention and knew that you’d never do anything to him, your little brother? If that was what he thought, the poor thing was in for the shock of his life.

“It didn’t take much to get you hard for me, Megu.”

His breath hitched against your lips as your hand crept between your bodies and you found his dripping tip again. “S-stop.”

“Stop?”

He shook his head. “No, don’t stop— Fuck— Just— D-do something…”

You laughed at how distressed he was and all you’d done is touch him a few times here and there. You wondered if he would stay like this forever or if his firsts would change him as a person, giving him the confidence you carried with you. Fuck, you hoped that he would never change. If he stayed like this forever, melting under you, begging you to touch him, you knew that you could live the rest of your life happily, because even if nothing ever happened again, at least you could feel victorious in having been your little brother’s first.

Without much convincing, you easily pushed his low-riding pants down to his knees, allowing his erection to spring free, finally giving you confirmation of what you had always known about your sweet little brother who was oh-so-picky about his women. One day, he’d make someone very happy with what he had to offer… Very, very happy. He just had to learn how to use it all first.

“Like this, Megu?”

As you took his length in your right hand, his back arched. He hissed at the feeling, his toes curling, hands grabbing desperately at his sheets. You slowly pumped your hand from base to tip.

“Breathe.”

He let out a heavy sigh while forcing his body to relax.

“Tell me what you want to learn.”

“Everythin—”

“Tell me very specifically.”

Meguru tried to hide humiliation by grabbing a pillow and putting it over his face. A muffled moan left him as your fist did another slow pump along his length.

“Tell me, Megu.”

Through the pillow, he croaked, “Stop it… I don’t— I don’t know— I—”

“Oh, sweet thing,” you cooed.

Virgins were the cutest things in the entire world.

“How about this?”

You shifted downwards until you could start pushing his shirt up to his collarbone with your free hand, kissing his bare skin as it was exposed inch by inch. His abs tightened to the point you saw the clearest definition you’d ever seen from them— Not even soccer pulled this reaction out of him.

“Tell me, how does it feel?”

“Cold,” he quietly replied.

“Cold?” you questioned. “What about this?”

You lowered yourself entirely, wrapping your lips around his cock.

The pillow flew off his face in an instant as Meguru jolted up, his hands quickly finding their way to your hair for him to grab onto something, and he bucked upwards, fucking your mouth so suddenly, you let our a surprised moan. He moaned in response to the vibrations rolling through his body through the most sensitive part of him.

“Fuck, sis—”

You melted when he called you that. All this time, whenever he called you “Big Sis,” you got sad because it was a reminder that he was always out of your reach as a forbidden fruit, yet now he was moaning about it just for you, the only person in the entire world who could really relish the way he said it.

You pulled off to ask, “Still cold, or—”

But his grip on your hair tugged down, which forced you to take him back in your mouth, going as far down as you could before he tapped the back of your throat. You tried to push off, and while he gave you a little wiggle room, he didn’t let you escape him all the way. You got the hint. With you gaze following up his abs and to his own big eyes, you continued to suck him off the best you could. You worked your tongue around him, licking up his pre-cum, all while thinking about how he was so perverted enough to actually be convinced into trying it himself… What else would he do if you asked? How far would he go just for you? He was a quick learner when trying to kiss you, perhaps he’d be a quick learner for other things, too.

Meguru’s breathing picked up into a short-winded pant that let you know that only after a few seconds of having a warm touch on him was enough to get him towards the edge. It wasn’t like you were unfamiliar with that kind of reaction. So many of the cute ones couldn’t hold themselves back. They were usually selfish with you, though, refusing to admit that they were close out of fear that you would stop before they’d get to soar on Cloud Nine; but not your little brother. He was sweet enough to warn you— Maybe it was worry about cumming too soon, or maybe he was scared that he was cumming because his older sister was getting him off, or maybe he wasn’t scared at all. Maybe he wanted it.

“Shhh…” you cooed while hovering over him again, your hand on him to replace your mouth. You kissed him gently before moving to his neck. “Deep breaths, little brother.”

He moaned like an angel that fell from Heaven.

“There’s still more to learn.”

With curious eyes, Meguru silently questioned your next move as you quickly kicked off your shorts before grabbing his left hand.

“I made you feel good, didn’t I?”

He nodded urgently.

“Don’t you wanna make me feel good, too?” you asked with a pout.

“Y-yes— Anything— I’ll do anything—”

It was like he was drunk on lust. Blinded by seduction from a woman. Wholeheartedly in love with you just for touching him. It took so little to get your little brother wrapped around your finger, and now that you had him compliant to do anything, as he said, then you could move to use him for your own selfish gain, which was all you’d ever wanted from him since you first started observing from a distance. So you stuck two of his fingers out before holding him by the wrist to angle him at your entrance. His eyes widened. It was like he never expected it to feel like that— Wet and warm. You drifted his fingers along your slit until he found your clit.

“Feel that?” you asked him. He nodded. “Whenever you want to make a girl feel good, just play with this…” You started moving his hand so that his fingers flicked your clit back and forth, meanwhile your other hand continued to play with the top of his cock. “Try it yourself.” You released him.

Meguru couldn’t help himself any longer. That monster that always lingered inside of him whenever he played soccer suddenly leapt out to convince him to flip you over onto your back, tearing your hands away from his body so that he could inch down to see everything he was working with. His fingers played with your entrance a bit, as that was where he was familiar with as his starting point. He dipped in slightly. As you moaned, he glanced up at you with worried eyes, but once he realized that it wasn’t a painful moan, he grinned and pushed two of his fingers into you.

“So tight,” he noted to himself. “Does it always feel like this?”

You gulped. “It depends on the person.”

Meguru was invested in discovering all the possibilities imaginable, so he curled his fingers inside of you. He twisted his hand until he found your sensitive spot, forcing you to moan again. An evil smirk took over his face.

“And this…” He used his other hand to search for your clit, but he was struggling, so you decided to help him. He sighed at the feeling of it. “This makes you feel good?” His index finger drifted over your clit the same way you’d been playing with the tip of his cock. He really was a quick learner. “Is that right, Big Sis?”

“Faster—”

He didn’t hesitate to heed your command. The two fingers buried inside of you worked faster and harder to fuck you and curl against your g-spot that he magnificently found all on his own; and his index finger circled your clit at a pace you were so unfamiliar with. Most boys you’d been with didn’t understand how much work needed to go into fingering a girl, yet somehow Meguru knew.

He leaned down to stare at you as you fell apart under him. “I’m not oblivious, Big Sis. I’ve watched porn religiously forever… I had the general concepts down, just never had the opportunity to explore…” He smiled as you tightened around him. “I thought you’ve let every man you’ve laid eyes on fuck you. How can you still be this tight? Hmmm?”

How could your little brother be mocking you! Surely he had more respect for his older sister than that—

“If I make you cum, what will you do for me?” he asked. “Will you suck me off again? Will you teach me about eating you out? Will you teach me how to get better at kissing? What will you do, huh?”

It was your turn to reply with, “Anything!”

“I get it now,” he whispered teasingly, “why you like having someone whining and wiggling under you. It’s hot… Doesn’t matter who it is…”

You had to assert your dominance again. Meguru was getting too cocky for someone who barely knew how to find the clit, you had to knock him down a peg, reminding him that this was all happening because he pushed you too far with the teasing. This wasn’t happening because he asked. It was happening because you wanted to ruin him, not the other way around. So you propped yourself up on your elbows, kissed him, then whispered back that if he made his older sister cum, you’d make him see stars. And somehow that did the trick. With a bunny-like tap to his foot, he set to making you cum quickly. He kissed your neck, attacked your g-spot relentlessly, and added another finger to your clit for more pressure and speed. Soccer always taught him how to be a good team player while still outshining the rest of the team as their captain and lead striker— You could see that the monster in his eyes was bringing that same energy to making you cum. The goal was ahead. The trail had been set. All he needed to do was send you over the edge.

“Fuck— Right there, Megu—”

As you came around his fingers, your fingers found his hair, grabbing onto what you could while it was still tied back into a small ponytail. He sighed happily at the image of you. Glowing and shaking because of him.

“Like that?” he asked, unsure of himself.

You nodded as you caught your breath. “Like that.”

Meguru’s fingers slowly retreated from you. For a moment, you stared at each other in bewilderment, but the monster in him had something to say, which compelled him to hold his wet fingers up to your mouth.

“Look at me while you do it.”

So you obeyed. Carefully taking his fingers into your mouth, you sucked on them the same way you had sucked his cock— Your tongue swirled, your cheeks hollowed, you swallowed.

“M-My turn…”

Meguru took his fingers out of your mouth so that he could collect more of your wetness for him to taste. Spit mixed with your cum melted on his tongue. He moaned. Your sweet, innocent brother was turning into a pervert, all because of you. You weren’t sure if you should have been proud or disgusted.

“We should probably stop…” your voice of reason came out.

He furrowed his brows at you. “But you made a promise.”

“Megu…”

“Just the tip,” he begged. “Please… I wanna know what it feels like…” He grabbed your hip with his left hand and wrapped his right hand around his erection. “Just the tip, I promise.”

“Megu—”

He let out another obscene moan as his tip made contact with your dripping entrance. “Fuck.”

“Megu, we shouldn’t.”

For a moment, he hesitated, staring down at you, his eyes pouting to the point you nearly grabbed him by the hair just to throw him onto his back and ravish him— But that damn voice of reason was causing you to rethink everything. It was a shame. If you hadn’t been knocked into seeing some sense, you would have broken him completely…

“Do you think I’m a weirdo, sis?”

Your face dropped. Growing up, that had been his biggest fear: People considering him to be “weird.” He hated the idea of being ostracized simply for who he was, so he always found safe haven with you, his big sister who would never turn your back on him or consider him to be odd. Your brother was your brother. He was perfect. The bullies he faced as a kid were little shits who ruined how Meguru would see himself for the rest of his life; but you were set in showing him that he was amazing.

You pulled him down by the hair to kiss you. “You’re perfect.”

Both of you moaned when he excitedly rolled his hips.

“Just the tip, little brother, okay?”

With an eager nod, Meguru very carefully pushed in— Just the tip. He forced himself to stop short once he felt the slight pop through your entrance; and for a minute, he relished the feeling.

His arms buckled weakly, his body too overwhelmed to keep himself propped up above you anymore, so he fell to his elbows, pushing his cock into you a bit more. You hissed and pushed at his chest. Just the tip! Any more than that and you surely would be the weirdo siblings that fucked each other.

“Feels so good,” he whimpered in your ear. “Please.”

“Megu, don’t—”

But he didn’t hear you. Or maybe he didn’t want to listen. His hips pulled back to where his tip was barely in you again, and for a split second you thought that he would comply, but right after he’d tricked you into believing it was over, his hips fell down on you completely, every inch of him sliding in so easily. You pulled on his hair as you moaned his name.

“Harder,” he begged you.

Reason could go to Hell. You pulled harder at his hair to earn a groan and a swerve of his hips.

“So tight!”

You pulled harder. “Go faster. Pull out, then push back in. Go as fast as you can.”

With Meguru’s face buried in the crook of your neck, he pulled back before thrusting back in, discovering the type of rhythm he could gain with his hips before he could figure out what speed he was capable of. He played with how he could move around. Could he move his hips this way? Absolutely. What about this? Do it again! And what if he played with your clit while he did it? You cried out his name again.

The egoist in him came out.

A boost in his confidence that he was only ever seen carrying with him on the field, suddenly was over you. He did what he pleased with you. He fucked you fast and hard with no regards for the noises you two were making. It came to a point that neither of you cared if the neighbors heard because Meguru’s sweet moans in your ear was enough to claw at his back as you tipped over the edge.

“Pull out,” you begged him as you came, worried that he’d go too far.

Meguru whimpered. “Hold on.”

He overstimulated your clit without knowing it, all while he chased after his orgasm. He was right there. You could tell. The way he was breathlessly panting through every moan, how his hips were losing their rhythm. You grabbed onto his ponytail. The touch itself made him cry out your name, but as you pulled on the strands gently, he was finally there— With every bit of self-restraint he had left, Meguru pushed himself up, pulled out, and came on your stomach, jerking himself off so that he could ride his entire high out. You kissed him as he did it. You wanted him to savor the feeling, to remember what it was like getting to lose his virginity to his sister— So you kissed him hard, letting him test how he could force his tongue into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he croaked.

You pet his hair gently to make up for all the rough pulling. So your sweet, innocent brother liked it when you hurt him a bit… You blushed. How cute.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Meguru slumped, rolling onto his side until he was laying beside you.

You wrapped your leg over his waist to pull him close. “You did so good, Megu.”

In response to the praise, he turned such a bright shade of red, you thought he was about to explode.

“That was…” He sighed heavily.

You swiped your index finger through the cum on your stomach, collecting as much as you could, before bringing it up to his lips again, waiting to see if he’d initiate anything or just stare curiously at you again. To your elation, he gave in. Meguru stopped second guessing everything that had just happened so that he could suck on your finger. He lapped his tongue around it like you had done to his cock— He really was learning— and he swallowed so easily.

You laughed and fed him more. “Oh, little brother… I’m gonna have so much fun with you…”

#op #bachira #blue lock #fanfic #bachira meguru #meguru bachira smut #bachira smut #meguru bachira #meguru smut #bachira meguru smut #blue lock smut #blue lock fanfic

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dragonageruinedmylife · 6 days ago

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The phenomenon of how the dragon age fandom (and to some extent, Bioware fandom as a whole) views its content is honestly one of the most interesting things I've seen in fandom spaces.

I was introduced to dragon age in 2011-2012, Played Origins and then II, enjoyed them both enough that when I learned about Inquisition, I got really excited. The consensus back then, by most people I talked to fandom wise seemed to be: Origins is great, II is good but struggles because of its short development. When Inquisition came out, the reception seemed to be super positive. It won GOTY after all!

Cut to now. In the last few years as things led up to Veilguard, it seemed that there were these little camps of fandom that had cropped up. Groups like "Origins is the best and everything has been trash since" or the shift that seems to have taken over where II is looked back on as a favorite for a lot of people. As well as pop-ups about people saying they didn't enjoy Inquisition that much for whatever reason, but don't think its a bad game.

Veilguard has been out for less than a month, and while I do think it's fine and healthy to critique the media we enjoy and consume, it feels like people are quick to try and compare it to the previous games and make it fall short. And the irony of that is, that nearly any critique I see about Veilguard could be applied to its predecessors.

While I don't think there's necessarily anything wrong with this cycle, people are going to enjoy or not enjoy what they will, I hope that Veilguard does not suffer Mass Effect: Andromeda's fate. Where any critique about it drowns out what was good (and there were great things in Andromeda) to the point that it ruins the chance for another dive back into that world.

#rambling thoughts #I just don't want EA to be able to kill my favorite RPGs #basically #Dragon Age #Dragon Age: The Veilguard #datv #also like I said if you have critiques about the game that's fine!!#but this does seem to be a pattern #and they often echo each other and it was just something I noticed

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sipsteainanxiety · 2 years ago

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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

#mybigbangacademia #so we're cool with ignoring how late this is right? right #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #and now yall know why i was so sad when ppl got confused at the p2 ending LMFAOOOO #BC GDI!!! HE WAS LEAVING IN THIS PART!!#WEWEWORIEWRW #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #crossing my fingers tht everything makes sense n tht there are no mistakes

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