mightyworld and I are starting a Lets Play channel. Where we play bad video games and make funnee screams. Grab your bargingos and have a boy it’s time to slime.
Disclaimer: This is actually a really terrible idea it would honestly just be me and Herny talking about cartoon boobs while Mighty yells at me and calls us fa**ots. If you actually believe that this would happen you need to seek help.
“He’ll know as soon as you start,” Merrill says, holding the knife, and Hawke doesn’t have to ask who she’s talking about. “Healing and blood magic don’t mix. Not well, anyway.”
It’s a risk. There are few talented healers in Kirkwall, and fewer still who would travel with a group of trouble prone refugees. Whatever he gets out of their arrangement - Hawke hasn’t asked, hasn’t asked any of her companions why they follow - he must have a breaking point, and Hawke doesn’t know it. One blood mage, an openly suspicious guard, and an understandably angry elf are all apparently tolerable, but to make him the only non-maleficar? That could be over the line.
It’s a risk she doesn’t want to take, but her mind is set. Twice now they’ve faced templars, and twice they’ve been hit with cleanse. Such a misleading name for it, cleanse, as if it’s something pure and delicate. As if it’s a favor they’re doing instead of slamming a mountain into and around her, cutting off a sense she didn’t even know she relied on. She knows staff work, knows how to hold her own in a fight without magic, but when the air feels so heavy and slow, she makes more mistakes.
She’s been lucky so far - Merrill has her blood magic, and whatever changed in Anders after he merged with Justice lets him continue drawing mana from some pathway Hawke can’t follow - but she can’t count on luck forever. Eventually she’ll be alone or overwhelmed or without a weapon. It’s dangerous and stupid not to have a back up plan. If her choices are to learn blood magic from a friend now or be killed later, she’ll turn to the forbidden arts every time.
“Anders will understand.” Maybe, maybe not, but she’ll address it with him later and hope he does. It’s something she’s been trying not to think about. “It’s just an optics thing, really. Mages making deals with demons makes all of us look bad. If I learn from you, it’s not a problem. All I’m agreeing to is moving some furniture later.”
“I’m not so sure he knows the difference between me and a demon,” Merrill says simply, but she rolls up her sleeve. Small scars dot her skin, but they’re old and irregular, the remnants of childhood accidents. That’s a lesson about blood magic that Hawke doesn’t need to be taught: hide the evidence as soon as you can. Heal the wounds and burn the bodies. There are enough rumors about maleficarum in Kirkwall already.
Merrill teaches it anyway. She’s a careful and gentle teacher, and her near constant anxiety fades away as she demonstrates techniques for doing quick cuts and minimal damage. Despite her assertions that she would have made a terrible Keeper, she seems happy passing along knowledge. It’s not a side Hawke sees often.
By the time she hands Hawke the knife to try for herself, the fire has burned low and shadows flicker across the walls. Without much light, the mirror’s base looks more like the thorned and twisted vines Merrill unleashes on foes than the peaceful branches she knows are there. It makes her wonder if Merrill carved it before turning to blood magic or if it was a choice made afterwards, an attempt to reflect what she wanted out of life instead of what she got. If it even is an either or thing or a decision Merrill made at all, or if Hawke’s just looking for life meanings in furniture to stall before sealing an irreversible decision. She closes her eyes just for a second, sees a barely dodged templar sword, imagines disappointed brown eyes, and makes her choice.
She uses the first heady rush of power to send the fire roaring again.
Dude, requests are back up, awesome! How about DAI companions + Krem de la creme reacting to the inquisitor being one of the last avian folk?(Like, they have big ass wings, so they always wear an even bigger cloak to hide them, and during battle somehow, they end up losing the cloak? They can legit fly with them)
Cassandra: She stares and stares before angrily demanding to know why they hid this from her. They sheepishly explain their situation, and she calms down, but it doesn’t change the fact they hid it. When she eventually gets over it, she sometimes just sits and watches them fly around (which they do for fun; they’re actually sort of relieved to be revealed for this reason). It makes her nervous, at first, worrying they’ll suddenly drop, but she’s awed by how agile and graceful they are in the sky. Once or twice, they have to pick her up and drop her somewhere else, and it makes her nervous every time they pick her up, and she hates how helpless she feels suspended in the air. If Romanced: Sometimes he takes her flying for no reason other than a good time. She likes it significantly more than non-romanced flying. Eventually, they’ll land, and have a quiet, serene place to sit together while she listens to him recite poetry.
Blackwall: He stares. That’s all he can do as he gawks with a slack jaw for a long time. He has no words– trying for speech just results in helpless sputtering. The man stands aside as the others fuss and try to make sense of the situation, and speaks last. He gets over it, though, once he hears the story, and doesn’t mind at all. “They’re like a pair of griffon wings,” he admires, “powerful and fast.” If the Herald can lift him up, it makes him supremely uncomfortable the first time they take him into the sky, but he finds that he thinks it’s fun. If Romanced: He regularly compliments her on how beautiful her wings are, and he tries to help itch and clean the spots she can’t reach easily. He brings her flowers that grow all the way up on a mountainside, and she gently teases him and says she could just fly him up there. “No, my lady,” he refuses, “it’s not the same if all the work’s taken out of it. You shouldn’t waste your time helping me get you flowers; let me do the work.”
Iron Bull: After getting past the initial shock, he’s utterly green with envy. It looks like SO MUCH FUN, taking off like a dragon to the skies. The Herald tries to pick him up (to no avail, he’s too heavy) to give him the experience of flying, so he takes it upon himself to make them stronger and faster, so they can. Push-ups with wings, laps around Skyhold, timing their speed of flight, you name it. “Just wait. You’ll go back to your people and fly circles around them! When you can finally lift me up, you can air-drop me on the enemies for an attack from above! It’s gonna be great!” If romanced: Hot. He’s 100% into this. He snickers if any feathers get ruffled or fall off after sex. “Did I ruffle your feathers, Kadan?” he teases, and he just laughs as they slap him with a wing. He ties one of the feathers that fall off to the dragontooth necklace, as long as they don’t mind.
Sera: She’s freaked out and utterly shocked. She has no idea how to react, so she just stares for a long time, sputtering helplessly. She feels bad later at how upset they seemed at her facial expression. “Aw, shite… well, your feathery ass is welcome here, alright?” she reassures. She likes tossing things at them when they’re flying to see if they can catch it, and it becomes a sort of game/exercise routine. She also talks them into using their wings to prank others. She screams the first time they pick her up and take her into the sky, but soon she realizes she likes it, so long as she trusts the Herald. Sometimes she’ll ask to be taken with them, because she thinks it’s exhilarating– and a few times, shoots arrows at people from above while the Herald carries her. “Death from above! Arrows from the sky! I even have a source of feathers for fletching at any moment! Hah!” A few times, if she needs them, she’ll just pluck a feather clean off if there’s none lying around, and sticks her tongue out as the Herald protests. “What? You still got a lot of ‘em. Your wings are huge!” Also jokingly refers to wings/feathers sticking out as “wingboners.” If Romanced: She likes tickling her wings and playing with her feathers, and sleeping under a wing when they’re in bed together. “They’re soft. And fuzzy. And cute.” she gushes. She also learns how to preen the feathers, and takes to doing so regularly out of affection, at least in the areas her girlfriend can’t reach with ease. She typically finishes it off by taking a feather or two that falls off to keep for herself.
Varric: “Holy Mother of Andraste’s ass.” he breathes, taking it all in. He comes around quickly, though, and asks a lot of questions– though few on anatomy, unlike Dorian, and more on who they are, where they come from, and about their people. He’s fascinated, and taking notes. Sometimes when he’s out of writing quills, he wryly asks them if he can take one of theirs– or may just take one if they drop off from time-to-time. He’s not a fan of going into the sky, at all. “You know, I like the idea of getting as far away from the Stone as possible,” he says nervously as he looks down at the world below, “but this is a bit too far. Dwarves don’t fly.”
Cole: He knew, and he doesn’t mind in the least. “I am sorry. The others know, and they want to help. They don’t mind the wings.” He also comments that the others are happy while watching the Herald fly, and the Inquisitor takes to doing small shows on a regular basis for the crowd at Skyhold, which always draws large numbers. Everyone is cheered by the amazing sight of them in the sky, and morale goes up. People start sitting and waiting for hours before the show starts. Cole smiles– they helped.
Dorian: About five million questions start flying from his lips as soon as he’s out of the initial shock. How fast can you fly? How many feathers do you have? What’s the bone structure of your wings? Can you stick one straight out so I can measure how long it is? Where are your people from? Why are you the only one out here? It makes them more than a little uncomfortable, and he feels bad when he realizes how uncomfortable they are. “Oh.” he says, suddenly quiet. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… if you need to talk, let me know?” He loves watching them soar through the sky, and he takes notes as he watches. He considers them and their wings utterly beautiful, and he feels honored to know them and witness their flight. He does not particularly care for going in the air, though, citing a sudden fear of extreme heights as he clings to the Herald, trying desperately to not look down. If Romanced: He loves preening his lover’s feathers, because it’s hard for them to reach behind and get them clean. He finishes it all with a kiss. He feels so safe under his boyfriend’s wings as they lay together, and he silently smirks as he imagines his father’s reaction to seeing his boyfriend.
Vivienne: She has to work to hide her complete and utter shock, and briefly scolds the Herald for not telling her before. When they’re comfortable, she examines their wings in detail. She figures out a grooming regimen. “Darling, everyone knows what you are now– there’s no point in hiding your wings any longer.” She smiles. “So use them. Preen them. Take the time and effort to make them presentable. You will be imposing, awe-inspiring, beautiful, majestic, and everyone will know it with a single glance.” She introduces them to her tailor, who manages to make them outfits that accommodate the wings– even accentuate them. Vivienne does not like being taken into the sky, but tolerates it if necessary in combat.
Solas: Their people were known to the ancient Elvhen, but their numbers were in slow decline– he’s honestly surprised that there’s any still around at all. He’s sympathetic to them, and surprises them by being the least shocked of any of the party members. He claims that he has seen their people before in the Fade, and suddenly the other party members are coming to him, asking for information. When he shakes them off, he mentions to the Herald that they shouldn’t hide their wings, for they are beautiful and proof of their ancient people. He asks them a lot of questions about the current state of their race, about their society, which befuddles the Herald. He doesn’t seem to mind being lifted into the air, if need be, and may even ask the Herald to carry him to places inaccessible by walking alone. If Romanced: They spend dates just finding places that only winged creatures can reach, and they look over the world together. They slumber and see memories previous unexplored by the remote location, and Solas feels genuine happiness that someone can understand the value of unexplored dreams. “Thank you,ma vhenan. Thank you…”
Cullen: He just sighs. Somehow this doesn’t even shock him. Maybe he’s seen too much. He’s a bit frustrated that they didn’t tell him to begin with, but lets it go readily. He asks if they know any others of their kind who would be interested in joining the Inquisition– flying soldiers would be excellent– and finds himself bewildered as they tell him that the vast majority of their people are shy and mistrustful of land-dwellers. He apologizes, and does not press the matter further. He enjoys watching them fly, and compliments them on their ability, but absolutely hates being taken off the ground and into the sky in any circumstances. If Romanced: He’s somewhat more tolerant of being taken into the sky, but he still doesn’t like it. Sometimes when he’s having bad dreams, he awakens as one of her wings gently folds over him, covering him softly, affectionately, and his heart rate slows. He’s safe, and she loves him, and he feels it. He goes back to sleep in peace, happy with what he has and who he loves.
Leliana: She’s just envious, if anything; she wouldn’t mind being able to fly. She was wondering what they were hiding, and found several stray feathers (which may or may not be in unusual colors) from time-to-time, and this explains it. She takes it pretty calmly, and asks if they know any others of their kind that might be willing to join as agents, or even airborne couriers. If the Herald ever takes her into the sky, she acts totally calm, but she LOVES it, even though she doesn’t say so.
Josephine: She’s at a loss. She tries to quickly compose herself and awkwardly make sense of the situation, but once the shock wears off, she’s endlessly curious about being able to fly. She watches them zip through the sky with grace and speed and is utterly mesmerized. Like Vivienne, she encourages a strict preening regimen– if they’re going to have wings, they might as well make them presentable. Eventually, the Herald offers to take her flying, and she squeals with a mix of delight and a bit of fright. Her hair blows loosely, and the wind’s on her face, and by the time the Herald brings her back down, she’s dazed and eager for the next time they fly together. If Romanced: They take her flying with them all the time, and it makes for interesting dates. She giggles and squeals (and on one occasion, screams as they do a loop with her in their arms) and has the time of her life. They always end it by landing somewhere picturesque, and they sit together, cuddling and admiring the world around them.
Krem: “Your… your Worship?” he asks, shocked, not sure if he’s seeing correctly, or if Bull’s pulling a prank like that time they all covered themselves with feathers– but no, it’s really them. If they don’t mind, he asks them questions about flying, and remarks that the Chargers would love having one of their kind on the team, if they know anyone looking for work. Sometimes he tosses his stuffed winged nug plushies at them from the ground, and they catch, not unlike the game played with Sera. He really likes flying, and admires the view of the world below.
Visual aids for my upcoming Modern Fantasy AU. Iwa was an angel banished by the higher powers for a crime he didn’t commit. Yet since he was one of the imperial knights guarding the kingdom, he was merely exalted from the realm of those who controlled light; also known as the realm of the untainted spirits. As a result, he was stripped of most of his powers and abilities, leaving only one of his wings, which has now turned black, and simple black magic. He lives amongst humans and leads a rather normal life, he works in a small café near his apartment with just enough to get by. Eventually he meets Tooru who is very well a human. With a lot of cheesy pick-up lines, awkward situations and eventual confessions of feelings, they get together. Tooru knows that Iwa is a fallen angel and everything, even before they got together, it was a little complicated at first, but he realises that what Iwaizumi was didn’t change his feelings towards him. There’s angst, definitely. However, I really want this fic to be fluffy more than anything. Just a list of headcanons I’m adding in. Oikawa loves running his fingers through Iwa’s wings, they’ll sit on bed together and he’ll do it for hours. Iwa can hide them if he wants, and he does because he’s a little insecure about them [Remember, he only has one, and they’re black.] Along with some freckles that glow blue in the dark because of his imperial blood. Hajime loves collecting house plants, he has a whole collection and Oikawa thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.
I allow reposts with credit, so you don’t have to ask, though I’d appreciate it :D
Summary: No one can be cold like Kim Taehyung, but no one can warm you up like him.
Pairing: Taehyung X Reader obviously
Word count: 8k
Warnings: Dirty talk shitloads, light spanking, blindfolds? Handcuffs? Feather play? And Taehyung in like, general. Yeah.
A/N:So i wanted to start my first fic off with a bang (haha get it? Jin would be so proud), and this happened. Dedicated vv sincerely, with my whole heart to @taexyla
Rain patters down hard around you, beside you, and on your head. You curse the Rain God- whoever that damn bastard is (Dude! The basic concept of timing. Please!)- as you plummet your feet into the uneven pavement, gritting your teeth as you glance from your bright phone screen back to the number on the gate again. Nope. Not this one either.
Just what sin you’d committed in your past life to deserve this remains a mystery. Just what you-
Ah! There it is.
The stone ground is hard beneath your cobbled feet as you are faced with uncountable red bricks and a rich splendour of sophistication in the air, and nerves set right into your stomach as you keen upon the ghastly mansion that stands before you. Your eyes circle around its magnificent sheen walls, zeroing in on a practically everything, thoughts widely biased on how appropriate it would be to hurl a mountain at the place right about now.
You shiver. The open streets are really no place for the chilly winter air, and you really are no person to subject yourself to these utterly unnecessary conditions, yet here you are, utterly ballistic at the opportunity to face the bundle of joy that is your boss. Again. As if seeing your employer for the past eleven hours wasn’t enough. Karma is just in love with you today…