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phoenixmuses · 7 days ago

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♡ Continued from here ♡ For @devildungeondm

Adrian had been taking a walk near the woods when he had picked up on some sort of commotion. He had heard about Eddie Munson through the grapevine — it wasn't hard in a town like Hawkins — although he hadn't spent time around the guy personally before. Mostly, he had interacted with him at Camelot Music, the record store Adrian worked at. However, some of the things that Adrian couldn't stand were religious zealots and bullying — two things which seemed to go hand-in-hand whenever Jason Carver was involved.

When he spotted the familiar yellow and green, the flash of a bat, then heard the taunting echoes off the dense forest, he knew it couldn't be anything good. Probably against his better judgment, he picked up his pace and changed directions, heading toward whatever they were following. He had been careful to avoid being seen by them, looming along the edges of the trees and keeping an eye out. Then, he recognized the figure in the distance — Eddie Munson.

He was already moving before they caught up to the metal head, and just in the nick of time, Adrian had leapt in front of Eddie. White-hot pain shot through his upper arm, accompanied by a sensation of weakness and intense tingling, then total numbness. There had been a yelp from both him and the guy that had swung, who had gotten an elbow to the face in the exchange. Adrian was certain the bat might have broken his arm if it hadn't been for stunning the jock, causing him to falter at the last few moments.

The impact had forced him to his knees, his other hand already clenching at the injury with a sharp inhale. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he hissed under his breath, his pain shifting into rage as he processed the situation. His typical laid-back demeanor had dissipated, leaving behind a sense of ferocity in its place. Adrian didn't waste a second, however, leaping back onto his feet and snatching the bat from the guy; despite his arm being stiff and the pulsing he felt in it, begging him not to use it, he clutched the handle tightly with both hands, gaze boring into them intensely.

"Get up — hurry up," he instructed Eddie firmly, gently nudging him with his foot, his focus still on the two guys in front of them. When he was on his feet, Adrian began to back away from the jocks, keeping the metal head close to him as they put distance between themselves and Carver's friends. Addressing them, his voice was laced with an edge of warning and danger, "Follow us and I'll make sure you regret it." With that, Adrian turned suddenly, grabbing Eddie's wrist and quickly leading him in a different direction, toward a semi-hidden, abandoned cabin he knew about.

Upon their arrival, Adrian immediately pushed the bat into Eddie's arms and locked the door. He lit one of the lanterns and set it on a large dining table in the center of the main entrance, wincing as he continued to move both arms. "What'd you do to get their attention, man?" he questioned, a sliver of curiosity and annoyance in his voice, although the latter wasn't caused by Eddie. Pulling out a handgun, he loaded up the chamber, put the safety on, and slid it into the waistband of his pants against his lower back.

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deliciouskeys · 5 months ago

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I threatened to write something for Butchlander week and well... I have written, uh, something. *skulks back into the abyss*

Written to accompany this wonderful art I commissioned from @semains whom I love dearly-- thank you for indulging my requests for setting and exact pose as well! Commission them!

Butchlander Week NSFW Saturday prompt: Roleplay/Roles. Because it might be the role of a lifetime for Butcher, but you know Homelander is having the time of his life pretending he can't escape / pretending it hurts sooo much.

(yeah, double dipping) Cozy Corner Kinktober prompt #5 Buttplug (sort of. I can't explain myself. I have no excuses. It might be disturbing, so apologies in advance. Pure Id, aka wtf).

My header is getting longer than the ficlet, gdi

"Harder." Homelander's tone is haughty and whiny all at once– so grating that Butcher wishes he could deliver on the request. Who'd have thought that this grandiose straightedge little cunt would get so hard having a stranger smack him over and over? Who'd ever guess that this supe celebrity– maybe the world's most famous person, and definitely the darling of the American public– would be into this kind of shit behind closed doors? That he wouldn't be bloody ashamed of himself whisking Butcher off to his bizarrely decorated apartment every single night. Bypassing all of Vought security, so that Vought's public enemy number… if not #1 then at least top 10… could make himself comfortable sitting on his bed. Not all that comfortable, since the bed is a strange upholstered leather number and stiff as hell, but Butcher supposes a supe might not feel the difference between this and a Tempur-Pedic.

He brings him here every night, and every night the script stays largely the same. Homelander plies him with some alcohol, sometimes a glass of whiskey, but more often just a bottle of Heineken. Butcher sits down, Homelander eagerly drapes himself over his lap, pulls and folds his cape underneath him, as if he doesn't trust Butcher enough to spread it out next to him. wiggling his hips, insisting Butcher pull down his pants and spank him. And Butcher obliges every time, even though it's clearly hurting his hands much more than it hurts Homelander– they alternate sides every night but Butcher suspects he already has stress fractures that don't heal because his hands ache all the time and never quite recover between sessions. But despite the pain, and despite the very little to no pain he's actually inflicting on the spoiled brat who always asks to be hit harder, there's just something irresistible about it. About finally being allowed to take out his aggression on the man he hates most in the world. The man he hates most in the world, who also happens to have a surprisingly perky ass that jiggles hypnotically if you hit it hard enough and just right, so Butcher hits him with his full strength not because of the cunt's whiny demands, but because he just wants to see the flesh wobble.

"I said harder!" Homelander's voice cuts through Butcher's thoughts, and Butcher can't help it any longer.

"You want me to hit you harder, you're gonna have to find a paddle."

Homelander's breath hitches and he says nothing in reply. No, this sick cunt clearly craves skin on skin contact to get off, Butcher already knows this, which is why he knew what to threaten him with to get him to shut up.

But he does wish he could hurt him. The achy joints of his hand plead he stop. Butcher stares down at the well defined muscular globes, skin turned a nice blush color where he's been hit but Butcher wishes he could turn it black and blue. Purple and green. He wants the cunt to really feel the intensity he's supposedly asking for, just to prove how wrong he is.

"I'm waiting," Homelander reminds him.

"Just taking a breather, alright? Enjoying the view." Butcher tries to squeeze a handful of flesh, but it's never as soft as it looks. "Look like one of 'em marble statues you got out in your lounge area."

Butcher hears Homelander's breath hitch and sees him take a peek at the mirror above, clearly checking himself out. This is all a game to him. It flatters his vanity that Butcher does this for him. Butcher would like nothing more than to turn this around on him, make it less of a game and more of an actual punishment.

A strange idea creeps in. Butcher leans back to reach for the Heineken bottle he emptied earlier and put on the nightstand, always on a coaster Homelander insists he use. God forbid he get a water ring on the antique looking furniture, with the creepy little cameo portraits of people who died last century. The beer is mostly just to take the edge off before Homelander lies down over his legs– he and Homelander mutually figured out the session goes better if he's slightly buzzed and maybe just a little numb to the pain in his hand. And they figured this out because Homelander happened to whisk him away right after he stumbled out of a bar on a late Saturday night, after which point Butcher understood that Homelander would come and find him wherever he was– even if he wasn't at home past midnight. It's sexual slavery, is what it is. Butcher would resent it more if he didn't somewhat enjoy getting to beat this cunt on a nightly basis before being dropped off at home.

Homelander shifts, growing impatient while waiting for another round of spanking to start after the breather. "Come on!" he says through gritted teeth, and he sounds angry, and fucking self-righteous, as if he's complaining about customer service he's paid for. It's not Butcher's fault that the cunt only seems to come after he's gotten spanked for minutes straight, at some point his body finally deciding that this is such an enjoyable moment that his hips start grinding forward into Butcher's leg and he comes, the same pathetic little hitched moan escaping his lips every time, the same toe-curling Butcher can see because the cunt does take off his boots to lie on the bed. Thank god he never pulls his pants far down enough, because he never gets any jizz on Butcher's jeans. Homelander seems to think Butcher doesn't notice, or at least they both pretend they haven't. As if Butcher can avoid noticing his leg being humped violently, wondering if this is the night the cunt breaks one of his limbs out of pure excitement. As if it's not clear what just happened from the flushed face and glazed over eyes the supe has when he rises off the bed, finally satisfied. But if no one tells and no one asks, it didn't necessarily happen, and both seem content to keep it at that. Homelander takes a quick shower and suit change before dropping Butcher off at his apartment, without any further ceremony or pleasantries, and by morning Butcher is half in denial about any of it even happening.

"Are you fucking deaf? Why did you stop?" Homelander says and starts to turn his head to look back at him, but Butcher shoves his face back to face forward.

They have an unspoken agreement not to look each other in the eye when they're doing this, ever. Homelander almost broke the agreement, but obediently looks away again after the lightest push.

"Shut your fucking trap already. I heard you the first ten times just fine," Butcher growls under his breath, and his mind is made up about what he was hesitating to do. He forces the neck of the empty bottle into the cunt's tight crack, moving it around, looking for give.

Homelander's back arches, clearly not expecting the sensation. "The fuck are you doing?"

"GIving you something harder, like you were whining for, you spoiled brat." Butcher gives up doing it blindly and pulls one of the cheeks towards him. "Now where's your fucking chocolate starfish? You even have one?" And as if to punctuate that last word, Butcher finds the place and breaks the initial resistance resistance, the bottle neck beginning a slow slide in.

Homelander breathes harder. "I don't like it," he mutters, and his ass flexes in protest.

"You better like it and accept it, or else you're going to end up with a pile of glass shards inside you."

Butcher is skeptical that glass could really do anything to this supe's internal organs, but it seems Homelander wants to avoid the mess anyway, and his muscles relax.

"That's right. Now stop whining and take your punishment."

He tries to push the bottle in even further, feeling more and more protest.

"I don't like it," Homelander repeats, sharply this time, as if it means something.

"You ain't supposed to like it," Butcher says and decides to finally smack him on the ass with his other hand after keeping him waiting. Butcher doesn't anticipate that Homelander's body will convulse, shatter the bottle, grind into him, and come all at once.

"The hell was that?" Butcher asks, pulling back the jagged bottle's bottom half that survived. Homelander's body is still twitching underneath him and he's panting. Maybe this was going to be it. Butcher overstepped the line. Homelander was probably immersed in some unresolved childhood trauma or fantasy or whatever the fuck about having a father figure who would discipline him with a firm but loving hand. This must have ended the illusion for him. Maybe enough that Butcher is about to meet his end– sometimes it's hard to remember that the whimpering quivering pathetic mess draped over his knees is the selfsame terrifying force of nature that can take out an entire army if he ever just chose to do so.

But the cunt won't even pick his head up. He's buried his face in the crook of his elbow. Is he fucking crying? Butcher wonders for a second if it's possible that he's actually fucking done it. Actually hurt him. Maybe a plug of C4 won't kill him but maybe it'll make him feel the hurt? A whole assortment of images races through Butcher's mind. He wants to try everything now. His crowbar, a bat studded with rusty nails, maybe the same bottle but a Molotov cocktail this time. Payback for thinking he can just force Butcher to indulge him, to make every night about getting him off. This opens up a whole new world of possibilities.

But Homelander stirs and starts to sit up, and Butcher winces and his teeth are set on edge when he can hear the crunching sound of glass grinding against glass, and tiny green shards start dropping out of him as Homelander tilts to sit back on his heels.

"That was— amazing…" Homelander whispers, breathless. His hands are folded demurely in his lap as if he didn't just orgasm to being diddled with a bottle of Heineken. "You want another beer?"

"No!" Butcher says, sounding more emphatic and more disturbed than he intendedto let on. "No, you sick fuck."

"Does your hand hurt?" Homelander asks, and it's without any impatience in his tone, maybe even a note of real sympathy, completely ignoring the insult just lobbed at him. Before Butcher knows what's happening, Homelander leans down and licks the hand that had just been spanking him. Butcher jerks it away defensively, but Homelander follows it licking it, laving each finger with his tongue before leaning into it with his brow ridge, then his nose, rubbing himself into it. It feels soothing and takes away some of the sore feeling, Butcher is loath to admit.

But he needs to regain what little control he has in this arrangement. "You want me to pet ya? Then lie back where you belong," he says. It's gratifying to see the supe cunt immediately obey him. He stretches himself back into his former position, and Butcher kneads the flesh of his ass.

"We can do the bottle again if your hands hurt," Homelander says, sighing contentedly and breaking the rule– looking back at Butcher with a look that is disturbingly similar to fondness.

"We can," Butcher agrees, trying to ignore the glass that's spilled out on the sheets and forget the crunching sound the bottle made when it snapped in half at the neck.

(AO3 link)

#butchlander #butchlander week #cozy corner kinktober #fanart #billy butcher #homelander #tw .... glass?#unsafe you-know-what practices #the boys tv #the boys #commission #written on mobile please excuse any errors #cozy corner kinktober 2024

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prpfz · 10 days ago

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hiii! i am on my hands and knees BEGGING for some lovely angsty dead dove plots with moonjo x jongwoo from Strangers from Hell. PLEASE, i am begging 😔✊🏻

i loooove dark plots riddled with angst and nsfw, with a sliver of soft comfort…

please be 18+ and i only rp on discord! if you’re interested, then like this post and ill message you ☺️

give a like and anon will get back to you

#strangers from hell roleplay #strangers from hell rp #fandom rp #fandom roleplay

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drdemonprince · 1 year ago

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Is "safe sex" even real? Never done it so idk but you mentioned risk profiles once. I feel like demographically I've got a higher risk profile and the anxiety about that really prevents me from going and trying anything. Do you think that's overly anxious in a negative way?

"safe sex" is a really misleading and binary term. There is never any guarantee of safety in anything we do. Every choice we make comes with risks. Hell, choosing not to connect with other people sexually (if you have any desire to) does ITSELF come with its own risks and costs over time.

The chase after perfect, guranteed safety will only lead to us feeling powerless and afraid, because it is an impossibility. All that we can do is inform ourselves of the risks, mitigate the risks we are the most concerned about and that affect others, and then knowingly accept what risks we still face as the cost of leading a full, enjoyable life.

When we inform ourselves about risk mitigation, we learn there are certain steps that we should probably take to protect ourselves and others if we are engaging in behavior that carries risk. If you're having sex with a complete stranger, it's probably smart to use a condom. If you have sex regularly you might want an HPV vaccine or to be on PreP to prevent HIV transmission. When you meet up with people you should get tested for COVID. You should get vaccinated against COVID. If you want to get suspended in rope from the ceiling don't use a hardware store $3 carabeener, get the good shit from the rock-climbing supply store. Things like that.

But even if you use a condom, you might get herpes or HPV or crabs or a yeast infection. Even if you never have sex, you might already have herpes or HPV or crabs or a yeast infection. I've had several of those things, including some of the "scarier" sounding ones, and they're really not that big a deal. They're just a thing that happens in life. Most people have them. You pop a Valtrex when you have symptoms, you shove a suppostiory up your vulva when it itches, you sleep without underwear on, you communicate with partners, you move on with your life.

Sure, I do what I can to avoid the risks I am most concerned about. I take PreP right now because not getting HIV would be preferable to me. But I could still live if I got it. I am informed about the realities of living with HIV today, which makes that fear more manageable. It is easier for me to make carefully considered and yet realistic decisions surrounding my risk profile because I can confront the realities that scare me and learn more about them.

The body is not separable form its environment. We are connected to our surroundings and the people around us, and our bodies get sick, catch viruses, grow old, get messy, and die inevitably and return to the earth. With our one life, we each have to choose what is most important to us and what potential costs we can stand. But with each year that passes, a cost to our bodies is already incurred, and there's nothing we can do to prevent aging and death from coming our way.

So what would you like to do while you are around? Would you like to have sex with condoms? Go on PreP? Get the HPV vaccine? Take random loads in a glory hole? Make out and dry hump with a cutie at a party and catch her cold sore? Cross the street in the dark after looking both ways? Go out dancing so late that your sleep is disrupted for the whole week? Get your heart broken? Have a great all-consuming love? Have children? Endure a torn labia while giving birth? Try psychedelics? Go on a swinger's cruise? Get a UTI from spermicide? Roleplay online instead of meeting in person? Fuck people with a strap-on?

The choice is yours. And no choice you make will be perfect or come without risk. No life is safe. Accepting loss is one of the necessary tasks of leading a life. But you can educate yourself, reflect on what you most want out of life and what you fear, and then take steps to demystefy your worst fears and mitigate the risks that loom largest to you and the people you care about.

Whatever you decide, I hope you have some fun.

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saltstarzz · 8 months ago

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“ 𝐋𝐚𝐩𝐝𝐨𝐠. ”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: cultleader!geto x AMAB reader, SFW + NSFW. SFW: dark themes + stalking + manipulation + brainwashing + extremist ideology + cult activities + violence + mentions of violence + minor gore + possessiveness. NSFW: cock warming + leashes + extreme edging + BDSM + brief spit play + slapping + bondage + riding (power bottom!geto) 𝐚/𝐧: this one is hella freaky, and god bless bottom!geto.

・❥・ 𝐒𝐅𝐖

it starts off normal at first.

let’s say you’re like a grade two sorcerer who’s never even heard of cultleader!geto. you’re strong enough to be considered a sorcerer, but not strong enough to be respected by your peers. people don’t outright call you weak, but the suggestions to consider becoming an assistant manager are hard to ignore. you fight curses non-stop, and still can’t get any respect…

now imagine this handsome young man with the prettiest black hair and sharp golden eyes comes to you one day, singing your praises. you’re so distracted by his smile and the way he carries himself that you don’t even notice the groups of strangers that have been tailing you for close to an hour now.

“you’d be better off with me, where your talents would truly be appreciated.” and just like that, he’s got you hook like and sinker.

cultleader!geto has a way of making you feel special. hushed little whispers and tasks he entrusts specifically to you. quick smiles and sweet praises. you’re feeling so appreciated that you hardly even notice how he’s begun calling you “lapdog”.

and about those tasks… oh boy. you find very quickly that cultleader!geto has no interest in peace when it comes to “monkeys”, or non-sorcerers. one minute he’s preaching to a crowd, and the next there’s a room full of corpses aside from the three or four sorcerers who might have been able to fight him off. they’re usually indoctrinated and cultleader!geto tasks you the job of cleaning up his mess.

it’s okay though, it’s cultleader!geto. your talents are needed here. why else he keep you around?

soon enough, you’re his most devoted follower. you’re not the strongest, nor the fastest, nor the smartest, but you’re his and cultleader!geto protects what’s his. soon you’re his shadow, always by his side.

the only time you ever have second thoughts is only when cultleader!geto leaves a village near the coast of Japan is ruins. hundreds of people deceased in absolutely vicious states. men, women and horrifyingly, children. he barely bats an eye, and it keeps you up at night.

you confront cultleader!geto one evening. probably not the smartest thing, you know he could kill you easily for this kind of insubordination. but he doesn’t. when you rant and tell him how jealous you are, he smiles. the same exact smile he gave you all those months ago.

“they’re meaningless insects, you know that." he’d say. you know he’s telling you what you want to hear. you should leave, but he’s pulling you in.

“they mean nothing to you or i. you’re my champion. i need you, and you want to leave me?"

WARNING: NSFW AHEAD: MINORS DNI, Thank you.

・❥・𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

unsurprisingly, being cultleader!geto’s number one follower inevitably gets you into his bed. Such devotion should be rewarded, and cultleader!geto is an absolute freak.

absolute bondage warrior. red or black ropes, i don’t make the rules. cultleader!geto’s got you tied down, hands and feet to each bedpost, absolutely naked.

and all that praise cultleader!geto gives you during the day? gone. you go from his little ‘champion’ to ‘lapdog’ real quick.

“how pitiful, even in bed you’re nothing but a lapdog. aren’t you ashamed of yourself?"

and I feel like cultleader!geto is no stranger to roleplay, I mean this dude is freaky as hell, are we surprised 😭😭? he’s got this expensive black leather collar for you, equipped with a silver nametag with your name on it and an expensive matching leash. he tugs on the leash to hear you bark, whine and gasp for air like the lapdog you are.

and the edging… lord save you, he is a nightmare when it comes to edging.

cultleader!geto’s not the kinda guy to edge you with foreplay. sure, he’s got a cute little bullet vibrator nestled inside of you, but that’s not even close to enough.

no, this man is evil through and through. sat nestled on your cock, all the way to the hilt, and cockwarming you for hours at a time. cutleader!geto soft and warm and he knows he’s fucking tight and he takes advantage of that.

“oh, poor thing. look at you tearing up. you want to fuck me so bad, but you can’t. what a dilemma…”

and when you do get to cum, cultleader!geto makes a game out of it. in the hours that he’s sat on your throbbing cock, he’ll pound himself onto it, babbling hushed nonsense while you’re practically melting into the bed. just as you’re about to cum, cultleader!geto will slam himself down and look back at you as tears trickle down your cheeks.

absolute menace. life without parole!!

and finally, when a shred of mercy enters cultleader!geto’s heart, he finally lets you cum. facing you, riding your cock so hard the bed is creaking, he lets you cum. of course not inside him. never inside of him, you’re not worthy of that. no, he pulls off just as you’re about to cum and lets you paint your own stomach white. a mess.

“to think you’d last longer. a shame.” he’ll say, his own cock throbbing. such a liar.

there’s no aftercare. cultleader!geto is a busy man and these few hours together should be treasured. he’ll put his clothes back on, undo your bindings and leave you there like he’d never been there in the first place, fucking you silly.

“Please…”

You can hear the blood thrumming in your ears, and your bodies strung tight like a spring. How much longer is he going to toy with you like this? Bouncing on your cock, fucking himself down onto you like a toy, keeping you hard enough to touch every spot he fucking loves. While you’re suffering, Geto’s got his hands on your chest, mewling at how your cock stretches him, his hips moving on instinct, fucking himself onto you.

“Please, Geto, please—”

YANK!

The air in your lungs is forced out of you, your head lurching forward with a sharp tug as Geto pulls the leash back, sharp golden eyes trained on you like an insect crossing his path.

“Who said you could speak, dog?” he laughs, incredulous.

“No one,” you breathe. Anything to get this man to go faster. To let you cum deep inside of him like you’ve been dreaming of. If only your hands weren’t bound and getting bruised, you’d grab his hips and fuck him down onto you. Maybe fuck the cruelty out of him if you were lucky.

“Open your mouth.”

Your fingernails dig into the red ropes binding your wrists, and you peer up at him. He’s sparkly with sweat, just like you, his cheeks flushed and his lips bruised and raw from biting at them. Fucking sexy. If you could commit him to memory, you would in a heartbeat.

You open your mouth, watching him lean forward. And with little warning, he spits into your mouth, his fingers digging deep crescent marks into your cheeks, his other hand holding your leash.

And you cum like you never have before. Rope after rope leaves you, burying each pulse of his cum into him. Geto jumps, his eyes wild and alert. He pulls himself up just as you paint your stomach and his ass with your cum. You’re so dizzy from the heat, you don’t even realize he’s speaking to you.

“Consider yourself fortunate, Lapdog."

His hand slaps against your cheek, leaving a stinging blow that brings you back to the moment.

“Next time you cum inside me, we won’t be having a conversation…”

#jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #jjk smut #geto suguru #geto x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #tw: dark content #tw: cults

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scaredyspooks · 6 months ago

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BG3 Kinktober 2024

Because I'm a perverted conduit that the void speaks through, I'm doing a Baldur's Gate 3 themed kinktober this year on here and AO3. As I publish the fics I'll be updating this list with links to them, and so y'all can gauge your interest here's the list!

Astarion (spawn) - roleplay - what's an innocent magistrate to do when his assistant propositions him when they're staying late at work?

Gale - pegging - growing bored of the wizard's endless accounts of how he and his goddess' bodies once intertwined, you notice there's one pleasure she never showed him.

Shadowheart - sensory depravation - life's greatest pleasures can be found in loss and darkness.

Lae'Zel - leather - peeling the leathers from your lover's body are one of the greatest rewards of battle.

Wyll - chastity - just because he wants to take things slow, doesn't mean you can't torment him a little.

Karlach - temperature play - attempts to cool her down end up having an interesting result.

Minthara - bondage - an interrogation goes south as you try to get to the bottom of the Absolute's cult.

Halsin - olfactophilia - after almost a tenday of not having time to bathe you head to the river, only be blocked off by a large elf.

Mizora - public - shrouded in the cloak of the hells atop a secluded pedestal, only to find it is in fact a stage.

Rolan - electro - someone's ego boost at getting a new tower has him coming out of his shell.

Zevlor - glory hole - the commander and the cleric need a release, things get interesting when the stranger behind the wall ends up being far too familiar.

Ikaron - semi-public - tensions are high in The Hollow, but you think you can help.

Raphael - naked platter - the devil has made a patisserie of you for his guests, though they seem to fade from existence as he grows distracted by the meal he's making of you.

Haarlep - size difference - the succubus is shocked that you want to see their true form, turns out they're a lot bigger than their master.

Rugan - impact play - the Zhentarim seeks to punish you for trying to skip out on your deal, he doesn't get very far.

Gortash - power play - your relationship has always been somewhat of a dance, one that you're determined to lead.

Dammon - edging - the forge's flames illuminate more than the smith realises, but you're happy to "help" once things quieten down.

The Emperor - hypnosis - the ilithid believes he can still get through to you, with one last attempt.

Aradin - hate fuck - your competitor, the thorn in your side, but damn if he doesn't have good stamina.

Abdirak - sado-masochism - two priests of Loviatar aid in each other's prayer.

He Who Was - free use - his ability to travel the shadowcursed lands unhindered has him popping up everywhere, making you pay for his insatiable desires.

Lia - wax play - after the first few drops, it's hard to tell what's blush and what's burn among the giggles in the Elfsong.

Cal - play fighting - a little extra training won't do any harm, though the proximity may prove... challenging.

Gale - findom - what starts as a simple shopping trip to Sorcerous Sundries takes a turn as you drag the wizard to more and more shops.

Astarion (ascended) - biting/marking - your last night as a mortal will be one to remember.

Shadowheart - human furniture - god's favourite princess needs a throne.

Wyll - roleplay - the son of a duke has a duty to mingle at these important events, though it usually shouldn't lead him to a cupboard with a handsome stranger.

Lae'Zel - predator/prey - your heart races, your breathing to quick to catch, and you know the more you sweat the easier it'll be for her to catch you.

Karlach - human ashtray - she's been making fun of you all evening for your drunken confession about her cigars, but once the other's go to bed she's happy to indulge you on the Elfsong's roof garden.

Halsin - breeding - ever the beast of nature, with your perils finally at an end he lets himself run loose with you and you realise it’s going to be a long night until he’s done filling you.

Minthara - body worship - the drow isn't keen onbeing nursed after but with injuries so severe you need to make sure she's alright.

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monabee-draws · 4 days ago

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Character Motivation, Inciting Incidents, and Veilguard Backgrounds

Okay, big title for what will likely be a short post but I hope this draws out some cool idea-generation from the fandom. [Spoiler, it got long and out of hand, apologies.]

One crucial aspect of the origin stories in Dragon Age Origins is that it answers the question "Why the hell is the protagonist out here?" in an incredibly definitive way. None of the warden candidates start out wanting to be a warden. Many of them are full-on coerced into it at the end of their storylines by Duncan, and the choice is taken away from them as part of their narrative. They aren't presented with any other option. This is echoed in both Hawke and the Inquisitor's 'inciting incidents' even if we never see their background play out before the tale begins: Hawke is running from the Blight and not only has to leave home, but is actively corralled into going to Kirkwall and staying there by his deal with Asha'bellanar. There is no other option for them - Carver says so outright ("The Wilds are to the south, that's no way out.") The Inquisitor is faced, similarly to a Warden Tabris, with the threat of being hunted down and killed if they don't accept the protection that comes along with playing Herald. You begin the story in chains, and the condition of your release is effacing yourself to become what the Inquisition needs you to become.

None of these stories offer any kind of meaningful alternative to the direction the protagonist must follow to begin the narrative. If Hawke tries to sell or lose the amulet, it reappears. If someone refuses to drink from the chalice at the Joining, Duncan kills them. The Inquisitor has to play along just long enough to prove their innocence to the wider world, and by that point it's impossible to get out of it.

By contrast, Veilguard assumes Rook wants to be here without offering us any reason for them to be (positive or negative.) Now, I'm sure you want to say 'but their backgrounds!' but please, hear me out first. "Rook is a heroic character, they're a good person who wants to save the world and hey the world needs saving!" is a very 'Guardians of the Galaxy' character motivation: Greg lives in the universe so they would very much like said universe to continue existing. From one perspective, this supports Rook's characterisation as (almost) too selfless. Of course they jump onto the Solas bandwagon with Varric and go off to save the world! They're a hero, that's what heroes do. However, this is true of literally everyone in Thedas (except for some reason the Venatori and Antaam, though I guess they want the world to survive in a very specific way, so.) What makes Rook's heroism special? The lack of ability to insert nuance here harms Rook's 'Realness' as a protagonist. We cannot actively roleplay the kind of motivations that would push someone to travel with strangers away from everything they've ever known in pursuit of quarry they're not even sure they understand (Rook is confused in the introduction about Solas' many names, which I read as poor explanation on Varric and Harding's part of the true nature of their quarry; additionally, Laidir's letter from Isabela implies that Varric hasn't really explained Solas to Rook yet in the 'Six Months Ago' letter.)

Yes, each backstory justifies why Rook cannot go home, but why does Rook go with Varric? This aspect of the story is written around - Varric is there and Rook always cares about him. But why? Why not lay low somewhere until your faction drama blows over? For certain backgrounds leaving isn't even required, just suggested, and you could easily relocate your operations for a little while (GW, SD) or stay home away from work (MW, VJ.) Only a Crow and LoF Rook could reasonably expect to be hunted down and killed even if they laid low, maybe Shadow Dragon at a push. The backgrounds are written in such a way as to justify why Varric might see a spark of good in Rook, but give little to no reason why Rook would consider following that spark to work with Varric. I reiterate here: Taking a hard stance and writing Rook as a heroic character IS FINE, but even heroes have motivation. We as the audience NEED to see that to become invested. Not everyone is willing or able to make things up to fill this gap.

This is why, like many others, I think we should have had the opportunity to play through our origin missions rather than merely reading them in character creation/having information drip fed to us (if you're lucky and play a MW or Crow Rook) or not be expanded upon at all during the game. [Disclaimer: Yes wardens absolutely get the most reactivity but not in a way that explains who Rook was, which wardens they knew or areas they worked in, or anything beyond them knowing Antoine and Evka from before.] Show us how we meet Varric, and why we should care about him. Plenty of Tabris' probably hate Duncan, plenty of Broscas and Aeducans probably love him. But all origins give the player the groundwork to decide how that dynamic is going to play out before the character exits the narrative. So when Duncan haunts it - through Alistair, through Loghain, through Wynne's dialogues about duty and sacrifice and through the Landsmeet decisions - it actively draws out an emotional connection.

Veilguard gets away with handwaving a lot of emotional investment because it trusts players have played at least one game with Varric in it already - and if you have, of course you'd love him and follow him to save the world. It is practically impossible to not be friends with Varric in DA2 and Inquisition (unless you make very erratic, specific decisions on purpose.) Would Rook be any different? But there's the rub - Rook doesn't get to decide if they are any different. There is only one option - to travel with Varric to help stop Solas. But because that is never defined - we never see the lack of alternatives, we are never faced with the Blight or the Wilds - the motivation along this single path never arrives. All Wardens have to stop the Blight. All Hawkes have to survive. All Inquisitors have to become the Herald. But we get to see the moments in which that non-choice is made, and it is a crucial moment to understand who a character is, and what kind of narrative they live in, and why they maintain forward momentum along that path. Rook's story is a hero's story - specifically the kind where they actively decide to be that hero - but we never get to be there when the difficulty of that choice occurs.

All that to say, in the end, that I am deeply curious why YOUR Rook decided to try and save the world. What is their relationship with Varric? With the task at hand? If you had to write the recruitment mission or Inciting Incident to reflect your Rook's morals, beliefs, motivations and relation to Varric, what would it look like? These are big questions I wish we could have played out even basically in Veilguard proper, but I'd still like to know. It's a question I struggle with for all of my Rooks, and there's great fanon out there. It would have been nice to not have to rely on that.

#dragon age the veilguard #dragon age meta #veilguard critical #i think its a nuanced take but i know some folks would prefer not to see crit on the dash which is cool #rook dragon age #datv #veilguard #varric tethras #dragon age origins

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