#alrik angel

[elisegravesbondageliberation]

"Heaven Sent" featuring Alrik Angel

Some angels are benevolent celestial beings that act as an intermediary between heaven and earth. Others are sexy beings with incredibly sculpted bodies, enhanced with fetish wear that benevolently dish out the perfect sensual domination experience. The latter (and quite possibly the former too?) is the case with Alrik Angel. He mysteriously shows up precisely when I am feeling helpless and vulnerable, restrained in a straitjacket with my legs bound. Alrik Angel caresses me with his impeccable flogging skills, soothes my pussy with his fingers, rescues my asshole with his tongue, and nourishes my face with his angel ejaculate. All the while, he looks insanely hot. Alrik Angel is a testament to going your own way, doing your own thing. Don’t let anyone tell you that a dom/me must look or act any certain way - do whatever you want.

[alucardrakul]

Regardless of what happened here today, their lives were indelibly headed in a single direction. They would win this war, one way or another. With it came a toll, one that was indicative of great sacrifice.

"Ten took the Joining, nine survived." Some would call that a miracle. "Eight died after." Alucard wasn't sure if he could call that noble, but that was what they'd signed up for. "I'll lead what remains of us into the mountains, to hunt whatever creature is puppeteering these beasts." Old God, general, something had these darkspawn organized. For what had been taken from them, Alucard was prepared to do whatever it took - even if that meant killing them.

Aventia resembled her homeland as it fell under heavy fire from the invading Darkspawn, no person ought to suffer from home and lives lost as those who suffered through war. Luna couldn’t understand the cause of it as it only led to darkness but there were some who strayed from the light, who wanted to see the whole cast into flame and to be as broken and beastly as the followers of the dark.

She wanted to feel useful, as if she had a hand in turning the tides for the good, to fight against the blight that snaked underneath the Earth and turned everything it touched into rot and disease.

This was how she did it, by readying her bow and arrows, and steeling herself for any close contact with her hatchets. Battle Axes were a heavy and powerful instrument, one that she had yet to work herself up too but she had the muscles from wood cutting for so long and as she grew in her combat abilities, she one day wished to harness the power of them.

The Hurlocks with their numbered kills emblazed on their skin roar from the collapsing wall and yet she doesn’t cower, waver or wane. They had made this her fight when they took her that night at the Nornwatch Keep and once she got a taste of the Broodmother’s blood, it awoke a desire for vengeance and transformed her into the Lycan she was.

Others were bound to join them in their efforts of the Legion of the Dead, it was a life sentence one with a promised death by the Blight but it gave purpose and reason agaisnt a dark fight. Luna was proud to stand beside Alucard, lending her blade to the fight.

A smile crept upon her face which was stained with grime and blood, undiscovered yet if it was hers or another, the day had been bloody with kills. Knocking her shoulder agasint his, she readied her bow. “Until death, we’ll fight. Honored to have you as my brother in arms, let’s give ‘em hell."

[labstrakts]

Mistress Iris with Alrik Angel Photo by Fadli Rahman

[tsuraiwrites]

Fic: An (Un)Civil Debate

@kyogre-blue prompted: ' ....Dragon Age. Something to the tune of "fuck the Chantry"’

set sometime during the 2nd act of DA2

-

“Fuck the Chantry!”

A silence descends over the room in the wake of Hawke’s shout. Varric places his cards facedown on the table, ready to heave Bianca over his shoulder at a moment’s notice, because Hawke’s tone is nearly violent. 

This outburst has been coming for a long time, and damn it but Varric wasn’t paying attention to the remark that broke the drake’s back, too busy fending off Isabela’s attempts to peek at his cards. 

Sebastian sputters, “W-what-” 

Hawke growls at the stunned man, standing up to lean over the table in Sebastian’s direction. Merrill, seated beside Hawke, takes Hawke’s daggers from the back of his chair and puts them on her other side, just out of his reach. 

“Fuck. The. Chantry,” he enunciates, just as angrily as he had the first time, but not nearly as loud. 

Varric’s just glad they decided to play Wicked Grace in Hawke’s mansion instead of the Hanged Man; this definitely isn’t suitable for listening ears.

Hawke tries to play his cards close to the chest, always speaking around his true feelings on the Chantry, mages, the aristocracy, and the various soirees his mother drags him to that any idiot could tell Hawke hates. That is, Hawke tries, but Varric long-ago noticed the way his shoulders tense anytime someone so much as brushes against those topics. 

Sebastian opens his mouth, likely to protest, but Hawke cuts him off again. 

“I’ve tried to be diplomatic about this, but I can’t listen to another word about the ‘will of the Maker’ and the good the Chantry does.” 

Hawke’s voice has crept to a lower register, but it no longer looks as if he’s readying to spring across the table to strangle Sebastian. Varric moves his hand away from Bianca, suddenly itching for quill and ink. He settles for memorizing the conversation as best he can. 

“The Chantry has giant golden statues and marble tiles while people starve in the Alienage, Darktown, in broad fucking daylight in Lowtown. The Chantry is the reason my family had to flee our home in the night, three times. The Chantry is the reason my sister is locked in the Gallows with the likes of Ser Alrik, under threat of Tranquility at any time! And that’s naming just a few of their sins.” The last word is almost wry. Hawke pauses and sucks in a breath, leaning his closed fists on the table. 

He hasn’t broken eye contact with Sebastian the whole rant.

Varric meets Merrill’s wide eyes when he glances around, but Fenris and Anders are both focused on the interplay between their friends. Isabela leans elbows on the table, chin her hands and obviously enjoying herself. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Hawke dares him. 

“Hawke,” Aveline starts, probably to try to defuse the situation, but Sebastian is quick to respond, his shock melting into bafflement. The accusation has obviously unbalanced him; this is the first time he’s been the subject of Hawke’s anger. 

“Ser Alrik was an anomaly-” 

“Now you’re just repeating Elthina! ‘The right of Tranquility saves lives!’” Hawke practically spits, his face flushing. “I find it interesting that’s the first thing you argued. Not going to tell me it’s the Maker’s will that the poor are dying in the streets? That the Chantry can’t use a portion of their shitload of gold to actually spread that Maker’s love to the ones who need it the most?” 

“The Chantry does a great deal of charitable work for widows and children. I know you’ve seen this, Hawke,” Sebastian tries, tone conciliatory.

Varric winces when Hawke scoffs. “Fat lot of good that charity did for my family when we were eking it out in Lowtown. The Chantry sisters still won’t look a refugee in the eye unless they come with tithes in hand. The only public clinic in the entire city is Anders’ and Darktown is crawling with homeless orphans. I haven’t seen much of that charity.” 

“...No institution is perfect. The sisters do what they can with what they have, but they can’t be everywhere. I don’t understand, you’ve never been this vocal about your issues with the Chantry-” 

This time it isn’t Hawke that cuts Sebastian off, but Anders. 

“Just because he doesn’t say anything doesn’t mean he agrees with the Chantry propaganda you spout all day!”

“Neither of them were talking to you, mage,” Fenris interjects, his gaze bouncing between Hawke and Sebastian. 

The Chantry brother, apparently thinking Hawke can be reasoned with, starts to speak again. 

Isabela blows a raspberry, loud enough it cuts through the growing tension like one of her knives. “As much fun as I’d have watching you dig yourself a deeper grave, Sebastian,” she gestures at the small pile of coins in the center, “we do have a game of cards I was winning – I’d like to get back to emptying your pockets.” 

Sebastian’s jaw clenches, but he relaxes again an instant later, with a calm expression Varric can see right through. He obviously wants to say more – though whether platitudes or arguments Varric can’t tell.

“Very well,” he says. “I am willing to drop the subject.” 

For now, is largely implied.

Hawke finally straightens, turning to walk away from the table for a few paces before he spins on his heel and marches right back. Dog doesn’t so much as twitch when Hawke steps inches away from where the mabari drools on the rug. 

“Fine,” Hawke says, finally sitting down with a huff. He picks up the cards he dropped and stares at them, not quite calm but no longer blazing with anger.

Awkward silence only hovers in the air for only a few moments. 

“Well, that was interesting!” Merrill chirps, leaning toward Isabela. “I can’t remember, is it better to have two angels and three knights, or two knights and three angels?” 

Most of the table groans and folds. 

 edited 10/9/2020

[kittenshift-17]

Scorpius and Aurey are the cutest little guys ever!!

Awww, thanks. You should meet Etamin in Better Dig Two. He’s a bit of a cutie, himself. And Lucian, Dmitri, Alrik & Ranulf in Devils’ Angels. These precious babies need love!

[r0dpest]

❝ Just let me go. It’s not that difficult. ❞

HARD-HITTING LYRICS PART 1/? // accepting!

Such was the song caged birds always sung. They did not understand their value to their captors; truly, what did they know of difficult? Still, by Alrik’s standards, he had been relatively kind to her. Rather than immediately send her to the laboratory or dungeon, he had her sit in his office with both Hands flanked at her sides. Neither Petri nor Vas spoke a word, nor looked in her direction. They were there as backup if Alrik needed help, nothing more. 

Alrik blinked slowly at her plea, dug his fingertips into the leather arms of his chair. Were it not for the prominent wings on her back, to be fair, he would have imprisoned her for the crime of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. If he let her go now, she could disclose his location to the authorities: she would likely do it without a second thought. Best never to put ones faith in angels.

“Frankly, I don’t understand why you’re so anxious. I’m giving you something I rarely give my guests.” The chance to speak for herself. “You ought to consider yourself lucky; it’s not like I intend on torturing you.” Not straight away at any rate, though he would not say such things aloud. He crossed one leg over the other and peered at her with a near bored expression. “I asked you two things: your name, and why you were in Tiveden. You have yet to answer me...I don’t appreciate being kept waiting.”

[catachan-jungle-fighter]

Muses of The Mad Wolf

John Geist (Mad Wolves)

Jane Geist (Mad Wolves)

Dario, The Broken Thorn (Harlequin)

Kosta The Unbroken Son (Emperor's Children)

Tyvonis The Spirit Caller (Thousand Sons)

Ferritus The Ashamed Son (Death Guard)

Black Anthony, Pirate Lord

Bert The Squat (Mad Wolves)

Lone The Possessed (Space Wolves, possessed by soul of one)

 K'imia Blood Drinker (Inquisition prisoner)

 Bloody Bulwark, Slave Warrior (Tau)

 Nox Geist, Daughter of the Sixth

Alrik, Mountain Born (Former Guard)

 Ton, Daughter of Death (Death Cult)

 Zevrice, The Unbelieving Son (Word Bearers, Atheist)

Daevos, The Creator of Beauty (Iron Warriors)

 Sofona, The Peaceful Knight (World Eaters)

 Sevrys, The Healer (Independent, but is called upon to heal John)

Javok, Forgotten Lord of the Shadows (Night Lord)

Habriel, Hunter of The Despoiler (Luna Wolf)

Nel’Garas, Second Borne of Khorne and Healing Angel

Black Fang, Beast Man Auxiliary Commander for the Mad Wolves

Mara Aloca, upcoming Slanneshi Daemon of Joy

Hopegiver, Forsaken of Tzeentch

Norot, Daemon of Nurgle who claims only things at the end of the Circle of Life.

Talak/Fralak, The Broken Lord (MW)

Iron Cage, The Unproven (MW)

Tolo, Guardian Of the Old Wolf (MW)

Captain James, The Searcher of the Lost (independent)

Evar, Forsaken Undying of Chaos (Chaos Undivided)

Foreman, Lord of the Mad Dogs (MW)

Bonesaw, Healer of the Lost (MW)

Yalaestra, Farseer of the Wolves (Future Muse, Half Eldar daughter of John)

Crawler (MW)

Silent Preacher, The Holy (MW)

Hirex, The Matriarch's Judgement (MW)

Mars, Guardian of the Faithful (Independent)

Red Geist, The Blooded One (MW)

Matthias Grevas, Tech Adept (Mun)

Vasilyeva, Cavalry Lord with a Secret (MW)

Esra, Patchwork Man (independent)

[little-purple-thundercloud]

D&D Class: L’yhta Mahre.

Sorcerer

You are a sorcerer! Your power comes from an ancient magical bloodline or from an event that changed the makeup of your very soul. Many sorcerers gain their powers through the blood of a magical creature - such as a dragon, angel or elemental - that simply manifests as a natural capacity for magic. Others might have survived a terrible magical fire or been born during a magical storm, which left magical marks on their souls. In either case, a sorcerer's magic is as natural as breathing and results not from study, but the ability to call on an innate magical power within themselves. Since their magic comes so easily to them, sorcerers can bend and manipulate the effects of their spells in a way that no other spellcaster can. A sorcerer is an instinctive and potent mage who despite not having the broad magical knowledge and spell repertoire of the other classes manages to unleash powerful and unpredictable spells to destroy their foes.

I’m pretty sure this is the result of two answers: one, where she believes academic study isn’t necessarily the best way to comprehend magic, and the other, where she said she was reasonably charismatic. Sorcerers are intuitive Charisma-based casters, after all. If I were to put L’yhta in a D&D game, she’d be a multi-class Wizard/Sorcerer. In Pathfinder, she’d be an Admixture specialist.

>> Take the test here. <<

Tagged by: @celestial-opposition‘s open tag. Thank you! :)

Tagging: @tiergan-vashir, @dmlynx, @lalaliya, @lyhia, @fancy-hat-cat, @pale-eastern-star, @poe-lhyzeal, @kimkomotska, @korlynn, @steelcarbuncle, @alrik-dotharl, @sasha-rochester, @garudafangirl, @girlwhorpsalot, @sorcanborlaaq, @rexsahashin, @cliodhnaeoghan, and anyone else who wants to do it! Just please tag me so I can read it!

[subetei-noykin]

Subetei Noykin

Appearance -

Gender: Male

Race: Au Ra, Xaela

Height: 7′0

Eye Color: Sky blue, left eye is glassy and damaged

Hair Color: Steel blue with blonde tips, likely dyed for effect

The Facts -

Name Day: 32nd Sun of the 4th Astral Moon

Occupation: Mercenary Lieutenant, Hunter

Sexual identification: Heterosexual

Romantic identification: Bisexual

Alignment: True Neutral

Criminal History: Suspected murder of Gridanian Wood Wailer and Twin Adder personnel, suspected poaching and trespassing, incidental mercenary infractions, suspected murder of Temple Knights, assault, disturbing the peace, unsanctioned spectator combat participation, unsanctioned dueling, assault of city officials, reckless endangerment of bystanders

Relationship Status: Mated

Sweet on: Below

Favorites –

Favorite food: Roast Eft

Favorite drink: Chilled Mead

Favorite artist: The Gleam Of Steel

Favorite scent: Mixed Herbs

Favorite person: Neyuki Utaura, a literal angel

Randoms –

Ten facts about your muse:

While rarely displaying it he is adept at toolwork. Leatherwork and sewing are learned talents for him and he is able to work a forge and hammer capably. 

Still speaks fluent and flowing old Auri tongue but hides this fact on most instances, especially around others from the steppe.

Due to his extensive mercenary history and complete lack of deep vices to spend money on, Subetei is secretly quite wealthy. He spoils Neyuki but otherwise lives frugally. Even if he stopped taking jobs entirely he could support them for years to come on his current savings.

His damaged eye is still able to ‘see’, but in an incredibly blurry and unfocused way. Bright lights cause it intense pain and will leave him debilitated, hence the eyepatch.

Despite his high alcohol tolerance and hobby of brewing, Subetei has not gotten drunk more than a handful of times and rarely drinks more than a cup.

With no aether control or understanding to speak of, Subetei is utterly devoid of spellcasting talent or the ability to use aetheryte. It is suspected that during his battle rages his internal aether is activated by his emotional state, empowering him, but this is unconfirmed.

Subetei has not forgotten the Noykin’s lessons of training and taming animals, but has a style of his own that produces more independent, aggressive animals for battle. His personal red chocobo, Valdhur, is a product of such training.

While not exactly the sentimental type, Subetei has kept and maintained all of the axes gifted to or created for him in his life. He has given several names. He has given one to a Qestir named Ulan, signifying heavy respect.

Despite his implied lack of interest in his physical appearance, Subetei does maintain himself with inordinate amounts of exercise to keep himself fit.

Subetei takes pride in his reputation and personal prowess. It is one of his few vanities, he refuses to allow others to see him as weak or vulnerable when he can. Save Neyuki, who has pulled him from the edge of bleeding and broken more times than can be counted.

Five Things -

5 Things they like:

Neyuki

Crisp, Cold Water

Combat

Rowdy Taverns

The Wilderness

5 Things they dislike:

Overly Formal People

Gridania (Fuck The Elementals)

Snow and Ice

Raging Fires

Fuck Giant Frogs

5 Good Habits:

Breathtakingly devoted to Neyuki

Hardworking and unafraid of challenge

Honest, if blunt

Uninterested in holding grudges

Loyal to his friends and allies

5 Bad Habits:

Easily provoked

No respect for those who do not earn it

No interest in opening up to others

Does not back down; Stubborn as hell

Little trust in others, does not open up easily

5 Personalities they gravitate toward:

Friendly, quiet people

Passionate and hardworking

Survivors, tough men and women, warriors

Devoted; Religious or to a cause

Rogues and underworld workers

5 Personality types they avoid:

Cowards and outright backstabbers

Self-centered types, narcissists

Stuck up unamused types

Intellectuals who shove your nose in it

Gridanians, usually

5 Fears:

Losing Neyuki, through his own actions or those of another

Secretly, that he will weaken and fall under with age

Abandonment

Paissa, probably

Losing his remaining eye

Tagged by: @oneangryhyur

Tagging: @alrik-dotharl @tarot-dancer @xsynergia @lorythas @berrodtherapscallion @uurkhilen @jadestormbrand @nathanielgraves @mildmanneredmercenary @zensuke-shirogane @muffinsandglasses and literally everyone who is interested!

[kittenshift-17]

****Sneak Peek at Chapter 9 of Devils’ Angels****

“You’re not supposed to break promises,” Lucian said.

“No, sweetheart, you’re not,” Hermione said, smiling gently at him. “Are you still angry? You can put away your fangs and your claws now, you know?”

Lucian winced a little.

“No, I can’t,” he admitted. “They won’t go away until after the moon, now. They stay out once they come out on moon days. They’ll get longer and more wolfy when the sun goes down.”

“Do they hurt?” Hermione asked him worriedly.

“No,” he shook his head. “Can we go outside?”

“I… of course we can, darling,” Hermione frowned at the boy, releasing her hold on him and watching him make a beeline for the backdoor into her yard.

“It’s nice out here,” he said when they were outside in the sun.

He walked slowly over to the day-beds and the small table that looked out over the lake, stopping next to one until she joined him.

“Will you tell me about your transformations, Lucian?” Hermione asked the boy quietly when she followed him over and he gestured that he wanted her to sit down.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, turning at look at her with wolf eyes for a long moment.

“What can I expect this evening when the sun goes down? Do you know what happens to you at the full moon?” she asked gently.

Lucian’s mouth twisted like he didn’t want to tell her.

“Are you going to give me back to the Ministry if you don’t like what happens to me?” he asked, scowling.

“Never,” Hermione vowed solemnly. “Until the day I die, Lucian Greyback, you will be welcome in my home, no matter the effects of your transformations. I promise it.”

Lucian eyed her seriously, as though taking measure of her seriousness before he nodded once.

“I don’t always remember what happens,” he confessed quietly, fidgeting a little. “It hurts when my fur grows in. I get really itchy. And my ears hurt a lot when they turn to wolf ears and move up to the top of my head. My hands and feet ache when my claws get longer, and my face hurts from the way I have to hold my jaw, so I don’t cut my lips on my teeth when they get bigger.”

“Do you get cranky?” Hermione asked him.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I feel… not like me, anymore. But still a little bit like me. I feel like there is a wolf inside me and he takes control when the moon is full, but he lets me watch and sometimes he listens to what I want. Dad says that doesn’t happen to him when his wolf takes control. He says when the rest of the pack go wolf, they can’t make any decisions or sway their wolves to do what they want.”

“Everything I’ve read and witnessed suggests that under the light of the full moon, the werewolf forget who he is completely,” Hermione nodded.

“Forgetting doesn’t seem right,” Lucian shook his head. “I don’t forget who I am… I just… I’m not the one in charge, anymore.”

“Do you ever feel the need to bite people when your wolf is in charge?” she asked, wondering if she would need to isolate him when the moon rose.

“Yes,” Lucian whispered truthfully, his eyes gold as he watched her. “I want to bite things. I wanted to bite the Pup, and Alrik and Dmitri every full moon when we were in the Ministry. But they’re so little, and they were scared of me when I had my fur and my fangs… I didn’t like it when they were scared of me, so I made my wolf not bite them.”

Catch up on the rest of the story here:  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12437426/1/Devil-s-Angels

[kittenshift-17]

I LOVED THE NEW DEVILS' ANGELS AND I WILL CHERISH THIS CHAPTER UNTIL THE DAY I DIE BECAUSE IT WAS PERFECT AND ADORABLE AND SUPER CUTE AND LOVELY AND GKFOEOSOSKSNFKDKSKSKKDS 💖💖💖💖💖 Only something to point out: Alrik and Dmitri are, if I'm not mistaken, two and three, or something like that. You don't give knives to toddlers unless you want them to cause a disaster or kill themselves or something 😅 A fork and a spoon, yes. A knife, a real one... Not a good idea.

I’ve seen plenty of toddles using plastic knives. But thank you for the love and the fangirling. I’m pleased you liked the story. 💖💖💖💖💖💖

[r0dpest]

“I don’t know anything about you, and I want to.” || Verona.

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina S3 Starters @fabulumn

His good eye - wide with shock and disbelief - betrayed him more than his body ever could. The woman he saw could not be real. It was a trick: it had to be. Never mind the way her skin seemed to glow for a moment, or Gods above those impressive wings that moved so naturally...Alrik gulped louder than he would have liked. Ever so slowly he managed to rise, his feet planted firmly into the grass.

He did not need to ask. He knew exactly what she was.

He grew up with them as fables from times long past. Angels of war, guides to the Great Hall of the afterlife, they were warriors of the Wandering All-Father himself. As a child he dreamed what it may be like to live as a Viking, see one fly through the bloodstained fields over countless corpses and pull souls from flesh like a simple task. To meet one in battle or to have one guide him...what an honor. Age and knowledge did not quash those hopes completely, though the tiniest doubt remained that he would be so fortunate any time soon.

Yet there she stood in all her glory before him. A Valkyrie, without a shadow of a doubt, who sought him personally. Alrik kept his jaw clenched firm to keep it from slamming into the ground in awe. She wanted to know more about him? That had to be a cruel joke, but he was so shaken he could not bring himself to care. What could she have to gain from him when he had not yet ascended? Could he find the words necessary to ask her?

“...Why?” Well, it was better than nothing. “Surely you have more interesting matters to attend to, my lady.” It was important to be polite; he hoped he had not insulted her by mistake.