#da: fanfic

[kmackatie]

Codex: The Chess Piece

[found on a table in Emmrich's room in the Lighthouse after a visit to Dock Town] A note from Rook, attached to a worn scroll yellowed with age: Professor, Overheard you discussing Dalish funerals with Bellara when I was speaking with Rana at the Wall of Light. I remembered a scroll that the Veil Jumpers unearthed that had sat in storage waiting to be catalogued correctly. I’m no translator, but my ancient elven is half-decent and I happen to have an interest in and personal connection to Falon’Din. —Rook P.S. Don’t tell Bellara where you got it from. I’m in enough trouble with Strife as it is.

After deep-diving on some codex entries for a different fic, an idea lodged in the back of my head to attempt to write a fic made up of codex entries that would add into my Rook's journey. Thus, this was born, in which I lovingly spent even more time deep-diving into codex entries and taking a crack at writing some.

Also spending over an hour creating a mock-codex entry in Procreate.

read on ao3 here

Rating: T Fandom: Dragon Age: The Veilguard Relationship: Rook / Emmrich Volkarin Characters: Rook, Emmrich Volkarin, The Veilguard Companions and NPCs Additional Tags: Character Study, Canon Compliant, Worldbuilding, Epistolary, Codex Entries (Dragon Age), Codex Entries for Rook, Male Rook (Dragon Age), Dalish Rook (Dragon Age), Mage Rook (Dragon Age), Developing Relationship, Dragon Age: The Veilguard Spoilers, self-indulgent expansion of Rook's character, Discussions of Past Relationship Words: 6,865

[bakedbananners]

that one homie with an air of profound vexation about him

[sparemoon]

RELEASE THE DA2 VARRIC ROMANCE ENDING BIOWARE

[thepetulantcat]

Leute, es ist canon!

(x)

[fangbanger3000]

we need to talk about The Silence and The Song

[PLEASE READ] edit to add: i realise that this post has been reblogged far and wide and that there is not a lot i can do about it now, but this is me trying anyway.

posting examples from the fic about my issues with its repetitive structure was careless of me, and i apologise to those of you who read it and became insecure about your own writing style. as someone who has worked with ai in academic settings, it's incredibly difficult for me to explain to you how the tone and structure of ai-generated fiction works and how, after reading enough of it, you can simply just tell. i do also realise that this is an incredibly weak argument, which is why i didn't include it when i originally wrote this post.

all that to say: there is an enormous difference between "beginner's writing" and ai writing. being repetitive as a new writer (or a seasoned one who just likes using repetition) is so normal. as is flowery/purple language. i've read hundreds of books and fics and the difference between these traits in ai-text and actual works is starkly clear. please don't feel anxious over the examples i've used in this post.

again, i apologise for any distress i have caused.

as per my last post, i have received a lot of encouragement to go public with this, and the more disappointed people i have in my dms, the angrier i get. so i will.

the silence and the song is an ancient arlathan au DA fic on ao3 by luxannaslut, and it is partly, if not entirely, written by an ai. i have no wish to be involved in any kind of fandom drama or witch hunting or bullying, but as a writer myself there are few things that piss me off more than watching people steal the work of others because they can't be fucked to write. it's disrespectful to your fellow writers, it's disrespectful to your readers, and it's disrespectful to the authors of the works the ai is stealing from.

ai is a plague that has no business being in creative spaces and you must do better.

the writing pattern

there was something very odd and monotone about the sentence structure of tsats that i couldn't quite place, so i fed chatgpt a prompt along the lines of "two people in a fantasy novel hate each other, but they secretly desire one another, and they kiss", and the screenshots above are the results. the third one is an excerpt from chapter 40 of tsats. the writing pattern is identical and it doesn't seem like the "writer" has even bothered to pretend they wrote it. if you're going to use ai, at least be sneaky about it. you know, paraphrase a little.

nonsense descriptions

"her nimble fingers worked with quiet precision" (ct. 1), "his grip firm but tender" (ct. 33), "her gown pooling around her like embers" (ct. 1).

fingers don't make sound, so what does quiet precision mean? as opposed to what? her joints cracking with every movement? how is a grip firm but tender? what does that mean? since when do embers pool?

the entire fic is littered with these adjectives that contradict each other or just straight up do not make sense, because all an ai does is generate descriptive language with no understanding of what the words it's spitting out actually mean. i could spend hours picking out examples from the seven billion pages worth of text, but i quite frankly have better things to do and would simply challenge you to try getting through a chapter or two without noticing the pattern.

repetition at structure-level

all the scenes in this fic are described in pretty much the same way. they open with purple prose vomit of the surroundings; solas is standing somewhere looking "unreadable as ever"; ellana's fiery golden molten fire copper ember ginger red hair is flowing this and that way; there's some dialogue with whoever is present and it leaves ellana feeling different variations of "something she couldn't name". this is, once again, a blatantly obvious sign of ai. below is the result of me feeding chatgpt the line "write me a scene from a fantasy novel where a woman with red hair is sitting on the ground in a magical garden at night", and side by side with that is the opening scene of the fic. make your own judgement.

repetition at word-level

this one speaks for itself. we fucking get it. her dress is orange, her hair is red, mythal's presence is heavy in the room, solas looks unreadable, compassion is sitting on her head like a crown, solas' ears are betraying him and ellana's move with every thought she thinks. we get it. the issue here is that an ai remembers the info you feed it, but not necessarily the info it shits out. if it's being told to write scene after scene of an elven woman with a gown that looks like fire doing xyz, it's going to do so with no regard for how many times the reader has already been informed of these details.

lastly: the breakneck speed

359,6k words in four weeks by a person who allegedly is employed and married and hasn't pre-written anything? no. any writer will tell you that this simply isn't possible. it absolutely infuriates me to see how much praise this "writer" gets for posting up to three full chapters in a day without anyone calling bullshit. i am pulling out my hair, you guys.

why i'm not going to live and let live this one

perhaps i would be less angry if the fic was some silly bullshit court intrigue Y/A stuff, but this is a text that handles very heavy and triggering topics such as SA, coercion, domestic abuse, and other things of the same vein. to sit back and put your feet up while having a robot write these extremely sensitive and very real human experiences with words it has stolen from texts written by actual persons is fucking heinous. the "writer" should be deeply ashamed of themselves and i'm sick and tired of watching people eat up their bs.

and on that note: the amount of people in my dm's telling me that they feel stupid and naive for not clocking this has infuriated me more than anything else. you're not foolish for this. being fed ai-generated bullshit is not what is supposed to happen on any creative platform and much less a fandom-centred one, so of course no one approaches a fic through that lens. fandom and fic writing is supposed to be about passion and the only person in this situation who needs to do better and change their behaviour is luxannaslut. polluting our creative spaces, wasting the time of your readers, and minimising the effort of actual writers who are working hard to provide content for us all to share and enjoy is vile and so, so lazy. i beg of you: do better.

[ayamikasai]

Come back to me, Vhenan

Love the angst in this one 😭✨

Commission for @zevswarden done ✔️✨

❤️ Discord (junyami) for commissions!

❤️ Buy me a coffee!

❤️ Buy my prints!

❤️ Timelapses!

[mail-me-a-snail]

TRUE BLU v.

Are you there? Say something.

the final chapter of true blu is now UP!!! it's hard to believe we've finally made it here ;u; when i set out to write this fic, there were plenty of times when i wanted to throw in the towel and call it quits...but im really glad i stuck to it :'3 im proud of this fic and all y'all's support made it possible !!

so here we are at last. as always, comments are appreciated <3

[poppitron360]

100% not thinking about how Jason spent months looking for Leo after the explosion and never stopped believing he was out there while knowing full well that NOBODY looked for him when he went missing from Camp Jupiter.

[talesofesther]

sweet serenity

Lucanis Dellamorte x Rook

Summary: After it all, Lucanis finds his serenity.

A/N: I wasn't planning on writing something for Lucanis so soon, but this sweet little thought came to my mind, and I couldn't let it slide. No spoilers ahead. I hope you enjoy it. Do let me know if you want to see more of him here! Requests are open, as usual.

Masterlist

An air of serenity engulfs Rook's meditation chamber, all quiet and calm. It's late into the night, or at least, what would be the equivalent of it in the fade. The large aquarium that covers an entire wall created ripples of liquid light on the floor and over Rook's skin. She watches for a moment as the fish swim lazily in the water, wondering still, in the back of her mind, how exactly they came to be in the fade.

Her attention wavers quickly, however, when her lips brush against raven hair. A smile comes to Rook's lips, one of her hands gingerly tracing shapes over his naked back. Her fingertips feel over a few bumps, some small, others not so much. Each scar on his skin had already felt the touch of her lips, too.

Lucanis is lying with her, or rather, on her. His head nests snuggly on the curve of her neck, facing away from the aquarium. One of his arms is over her stomach, and a steady and warm grip keeps her as close as humanly possible to him. He'd refused to leave her side, ever since he nearly lost her. Once is enough—the Crow had told her, his eyes glinting with pools of unshed worry, hurt, and longing.

Rook doesn't mind, much on the contrary. It feels almost healing to be so tangled with Lucanis, not knowing where he ends and she begins. She nuzzles onto the crown of his head, laying a chaste kiss there. It makes him shiver, she feels it in the goosebumps that rise on his skin.

He'd reacted the same way on their first night together, too; She had taken his cheeks between both her hands, only so she could touch his forehead with hers, noses bumping together while her fingers buried into his hair with the care of someone holding their world in their hands. And from her touch, she felt something wet drop onto her cheeks, once and then twice. His hands trembled where he held onto her waist. She had opened her eyes to find tear tracks down Lucanis' face. It had worried her, but in the same breath, he clutched at her hand like a lifeline and placed it more firmly onto his skin. On that night, she leaned forward again, her lips then tracing a path from below his eye, down to his cheeks, and until she found his lips again. There had been a distant salty taste to it as she kissed his tears away.

His goosebumps under her fingertips tonight bring the memory to the forefront of her mind, and she smiles, all sweet and adoring.

Everything is all too new for him, she knows. He even tried to deny his own feelings in the beginning. Rook still remembers the words Lucanis had told her not that long ago. You deserve better than to deal with my mess. Many times, he tried to give her an out, to keep her away; in his mind, it was safer that way. She deserved better, and Lucanis feared the possibility of him, or Spite, ever hurting her.

She'd convinced him otherwise. Showed him otherwise. She always did.

And now, Lucanis can happily drown in her embrace. He fears though, that it's without it that he might suffocate.

The quietness lingers, and Lucanis feels faint with the way she loved on him. Her touch is all too gentle and tender, he can't remember a time before her that he'd ever felt something like it. Perhaps never. He buries his nose further against her skin, a shuddering breath passing through his lips. There is a burning in the back of his eyes, but this time it doesn't come from Spite, for the demon has been blissfully quiet for a while now.

Lucanis felt her kiss, her fingers brushing over his scars—as delicate as rose petals on his skin. And he could crumble. He would get on his knees and promise her the world over and over if it meant she'd keep touching him with the gentleness of her hands.

"You're quiet tonight," Rook's soft voice says. It's a mere observation, as she selfishly missed the sound of his voice.

Lucanis hums, all sleepy, as his thumb traces the skin of her hip. "For too long," he holds a pause, they have the time all for themselves anyway, "I've wished for this… peace." The crow can feel her hand wandering, his eyes remain closed but her presence is intoxicating and he can't help but be aware of it. She's fidgeting with his hair, he feels the gentle tugs on the long strands.

"Spite?" Rook inquires, a little distracted.

"Is silent," he sighs. "With you, he's always calm." Lucanis' accent is heavy on his words and Rook smiles again. "I think… you are stuck with me now." There's the slightest bit of hesitation as he says it, still. Lucanis holds onto his breath, a little more awake now.

"Good. I was hoping to be." Warmth and affection drips from Rook's words, and the crow eases the air in his lungs.

Silence engulfs them again, but Lucanis is mindful of her movements. He senses her touch on multiple strands of his hair, working one over the other in a neat, small braid. He assumes as much, at least. It's more than welcome, he nearly purrs at her ministrations. Lucanis' hand lays flat against her stomach, drawing a pattern over her ribs, down to her hip, and back again.

Rook smooths one hand over his hair, fingers burying between soft dark locks, careful of the little braid now resting beside his ear. She picks out three strands and begins anew.

"What are you doing there, mi amor?"

Rook's cheeks become warm, a sheepish tilt to her lips as she bites back a smile. "Hmm, nothing."

She feels the shape of Lucanis' own smile against her skin, though, before he gives a kiss to the skin of her collarbone.

"I am not taking them off, you know," he mumbles, referring to the little artwork she's been doing to his hair.

She buries her nose against him to muffle a chuckle, and Lucanis can't take it anymore. He pushes himself up on his elbows, looking down at her with something that could only be described as adoration. All blown pupils and flushed cheeks.

He kisses her, over and over. He feels privileged.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Lucanis' taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[thewinchestah]

"PREY" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: One-Shot, 18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, begging, overstimulation, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink,

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: i lost count. it's big.

  | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: Helloooooo!!! I write a lot but i never publish it! My lovely friend and also biggest inspiration for this fic @smallershorteranduncut ordered me to post this and i'm nothing but her loyal servent! I hope you guys enjoy the fruits of me writing 10 google docs pages today while i was enraged. Also english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here yadayayfayada! enjoy &lt;;3 (UPDATE!) Part 2 is now up!

-

Everything about the Radio Demon seemed to be designed to make you desire him, want him. Many times in ways you weren’t even ready to admit to yourself. You haven’t been in Hell long, that’s true. But ever since you manifested here you felt like someone had picked your brain open to make Alastor the perfect bait to lure you into even more sinful, sinister paths. 

He had an inexplicable magnetism around him, a piercing presence that made your eyes stuck on him when he worked a room. He had you bewitched and you hadn’t share more than polite pleasantries with each other since you became a guest at the hotel.

Today, again, you were transfixed in his gaze. Sitting in the corner of the hotel lobby, trying to make your embarrassing attraction to him go unnoticed while Alastor waltzed across the room explaining more of his wicked plans to Charlie. God, how you wish he had his wicked way with you. 

He seemed more… on edge today. His red eyes  glowed a little brighter, his nostrils flared a bit more, static filling the room more often, he was smiling with almost barred teeth, and everyone seemed to be avoiding him. Even Charlie was trying to politely dismiss him, the general feeling of uneasiness inside the hotel  just growing larger when Angel stationed himself near your little corner of the room. 

“Don’t go near that creepy motherfucker today, he’s about to lose it.”  Angel alerted, almost whispering, a pair of his hands making the “crazy sign” near his head 

“Isn’t he always creepy and about to lose it?” Husk added, staring at the exchange between the radio demon and Charlie.

“I’m telling you toots, I know that guy definitely isn't normal, but today he is borderline a mass extinction event. I swear, he’s just waiting for someone to give him the excuse” Angel replied, confirming your suspicions. Something was off.

“Uh. Well, about that, I think it’s time we rescue Charlie” 

As if on cue Charlie turned to the corner of the room, gesticulating really hard to be taken away from the small commotion her conversation with Alastor was becoming. 

“Hey Charlie, do you remember that thing with the hotel’s… personalized stationery you asked me to help you today? Let’s do it!” Said angel gently guiding Charlie away from the Radio Demon.

“Guess that’s my cue Alastor! Greaaaaat chat! As always! Have a nice day!! Byeee!” Charlie’s overly chirpy tone giving away her uneasiness. 

Suddenly it felt like all the air was taken out of the room. Alastor’s neck turned into an ungodly angle, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Static grew around the group, almost suffocating. As your vision went blurry from the sheer power that was being evoked, you contemplated if there was another afterlife. Preferably one where you didn’t inherit a death wish from your previous ones.

And as quick as it started, it was over. 

Alastor just said a creepy “hm” turned on his hell, and walked away. 

It almost felt like it was all in your head, but your friends standing perfectly still and dead silent next to you gave the reality of the situation away: everyone just had a near death-death experience. Maybe it would be a good topic for Charlie’s bonding exercises, who knows with this place. 

“I told ya’ll. Mass. Extinction. Event. Stay out the psycho’s way”

Angel’s voice became background noise in your head, your eyes focusing on the spot where Alastor just threatened everybody’s life without saying a word. As the voices dissipated around you and normalcy slowly returned to the hotel, your mind sank deeper and deeper into the mystery that was the Radio Demon. 

-

They were so oblivious, so naive. Thinking he wasn’t listening what they said about him behind his back. Thinking he was unaware of him being the topic of the discussion when he wasn’t looking. He could bathe in the smell of their fear, and he was relishing it. 

Alastor stared at the new pretty little thing that arrived at the hotel. Oh how pathetically sweet and innocent she was, thinking she was being subtle about her infatuation with him. Thinking she could hide her interest in him, when she was nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes. Oh, she was just the perfect prey for him, wrapped in this lovely red bow she wore on her hair. 

Angel was right, he was just waiting for an excuse, and she just offered him one on a silver platter. And alastor was everything but a coward. 

-

You cursed a little bit louder than you intended when you saw the blood dripping from your finger. “Stop. making. a. spectacle. of. yourself” you mentally screamed. You still could not figure Charlie’s “special stationary stapler” out, so stapling your finger was bound to happen. 

Even though it was not much, the silly little cut was stinging like a bitch, and your best efforts to stop the bleeding were futile, considering the mess on the hem of your skirt. Still high on the adrenaline from earlier, your shaking hands searched for something, anything to put on your finger so you could continue your work without anyone noticing. Everyone already had enough for one day, it was fine. 

“My dear, did you just hurt yourself?” Alastor’s voice invaded your ears. Oh, fuck. That’s it, he was going to murder you for being so incompetent with the damned stapler.

Turning to face him, you meet his piercing gaze, not sure if you should run and scream for help. “Oh no worries alastor, it’s just a small cut, i can manage!” you give him your most confident smile. 

Alastor’s head tilts, eyes burning red as he watches the small droplets of your blood make their way down your index finger.  

“Nonsense, I can't have my staff running around with injuries and bloodied clothes. We are in hell, but we are not savages, dear” He seems transfixed by the blood, and you are too scared to move, too scared to anything other than hold the weight of his gaze and hope for the best. Your lizard brain is screaming for you to run, ask for help. Maybe Charlie isn’t too far away, could you make a run for it? Somehow your survival instincts override your brain, maybe all those hours watching true crime back on earth weren’t in vain, and you decide against running. Let him initiate first. 

He catches your wrist, trapping it inside his deadly claws. His face, towering over you, comes all the way down to inspect the offending finger. You can feel his breathing on your skin. 

Your breathing stops. You swallow an imaginary lump. He’s gonna bite off your fing-

“Would you be a doll and let me take care of it? Blood being unnecessary wasted truly abhors me” 

You must have said yes at some point, you don’t really remember, now you are holding the red handkerchief he handed  you, answering his request to “please follow him”. Trailing behind the Radio Demon, both of you walk through the large corridors. 

This might be the time to scream for help. the voices inside your head warn. With every step of his feet you hear his microphone going tsk tsk tsk where it touches the ground. You are walking the death row, the paintings on the wall chanting “dead woman walking, dead woman walking”. 

“Keep pressuring the wound darling, we are almost there” he gently commands you, too gently… it feels almost… soft, pleading. The way Alastor goes from 0 to 100 is giving you whiplash. 

He slows down, reaching for the door knob of an unknown room. Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to enter first.

the door locks behind you.

 if i’m being murdered, at least i’m being murdered with class. 

“Don’t be silly, I’m not going to murder you” Alastor says, almost singing the last part of the sentence. 

“Oh fuck, i said that out loud, didn’t I?” you blurted out 

“Yes you did. And yes, I also noticed your lovely doe eyes on me every time i’m in the room” 

Your brain short circuits. That 's it. You are dead. He’s not going to murder you (apparently), but you are going to die of embarrassment. It will feel like murder. He knows, fuck, he knows. He knows about your crush (?) and he’s going to drag you for it. You are going to be so dragged the angels will pity you and bring you to heaven. A creative way to be redeemed, Charlie should know about this. Your thoughts are going downhill as a big snowball, there are too many of them and you can’t follow a single coherent train of thought. You don’t even want to know how you look in the middle of this. You must look pathetic, truly like a doe caught in headlights. And then you hear your name once.

Twice now, in a sing-song voice.

Your eyes fly open towards the sound, breaking from the anxiety induced spell as you realize the Radio Demon had just called you, by name. He knows your name???

“Ah hahah! You’re back.” Alastor says, as he starts to circle you like a predator. Your eyes, as always, follow his across the room.

 “I don’t like to repeat myself, little doe. You heard what I asked?” 

Again, you don’t really remember answering, your brain is going AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA as you watch him pace around you, eyes burning red, demanding your attention. Teeth slightly barred, voice on the edge of something. Was that “X” on his forehead always there?

“I asked if you know what you are doing to me” static fills the room as he finishes speaking. Alastor’s clawed hand trapped your bloodied finger dangerously close to his grinning lips. Your brain is doing flips as he stares deep into your soul, and when your thoughts land you make the connection. Alastor is horny. Alastor is horny for y-

“You see, little doe, I know what your eyes hide when you desperately lower them everytime I come near you. I know how you feel you can hide in plain sight if you stay quiet enough. But I can taste it. Your fear. Your lust. In the air. In your blood.” He has a white knuckled grip on your wrist now, same with his microphone. You lower your guard, eyes going from startled to lustful. “Good thing right now there’s nothing more i want in this godforsaken pit than your lust, pet”

You want this. There’s no point in lying to yourself. You want Alastor to fuck you. You’ve fantasized about the Radio Demon taking you more times than you can count. More times than you would like to admit to yourself. This feels deeply wrong, but you crave it. 

Fuck it, you are in hell, there’s nothing to lose. Alastor is still watching you, impatiently. For the first time today you realize you actually forgot to say something. He’s waiting. Alastor is waiting for your permission. 

“Take my breath away, Alastor” 

Your permission might have been really loud, it felt like you were screaming the words. But you can’t be sure, it might have been a whisper. Either way he didn’t miss it, what happens next is fast, angry and delicious. 

Alastor pounces and licks the blood on your finger, something clicks inside him as he tastes the red liquid, because he lets go of his microphone instantly and his arms grab your waist aggressively, so forceful you wouldn’t be surprised if it breaks skin. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, by the sight of a psychopathic demon drinking your blood. But you are, and there’s no going back. 

“Strip” he orders. You want to say to him that you can’t take your clothes off your person with him holding you like this. He must have realized the conundrum: if he wants you naked, he has to let go of you. To Alastor, letting go of you right now is simply unthinkable. So he doesn’t: you feel his claws cut the bodice of your dress open, sending the most delicious shivers down your spine. Another claw rips your skirt apart, and you are almost fully naked in the Radio Demon’s arms, pressing your body hard on his still impeccable dressed body.

It’s humiliating, it’s dangerous, it’s hot, it is delicious, to be at his complete mercy, just how you always wanted.

Somehow both of you made your way close to the enormous bed in the middle of the room. Alastor cornered you, so the only way you could escape was walking backwards towards the bed. The brilliant bastard. 

You feel your calves hitting the edge of the bed, and Alastor breaks away.

 Pity, your mind complains. Get him back to touching you again. right. now,.

“Now now, we should establish some rules for this, pet” Alastor’s hands might have stopped touching you, but his piercing eyes never did. He knocks you on top of the bed, you lay there sprawled open just for him. His hands move up to do a quick work of his bowtie

“Rule one: you will take what I give you. Nothing more, nothing less. What I give you is enough. You might feel like you can’t take anymore, but you can. You will take it, I will make you take it” He takes his tailcoat off, his frame towering over you, even with your body completely flat on the mattress and his in front of it. 

“ Rule two: every ounce of your pleasure is mine and mine only. Mine to give, mine to take. And you will give me everything. I want to hear every sound, to feel every touch, to know every nasty thought that runs inside that pretty little head of yours. You will not suppress anything, I wanna hear your moans when you make a mess of yourself as I take everything I desire from your delicious body. I will relish on your desperate screams of pleasure.Nothing outside these walls matter” He is climbing on the bed now. You hold the weight of his gaze, underneath your demonic lover’s eyes your skin burns.

“Rule three: don’t you dare cum without my permission, good girls earn their orgasms and you will be a good girl. Or else…” static starts to pick up around the room, you are seeing the blackest black that ever was, his shadows enveloping you both. Nothing outside these walls matter. “Understood?” Alastor says as he pins your hands on top of your head, against the fancy headboard. His hand cups one of your boobs and he is worrying your nipple between his sharp claws. finally finally, your mind sings. You feel a surge of magic binding your wrists in green chains, attached to the headboard. It’s overbearing, it’s ridiculous. His magic feels like him, another part of him for you to take.

He pinches your nipple particularly hard and you moan softly, pleasure and pain consuming any other sensation. You forgot to answer him, you realize. You’ve barely started and you are already being bad. “yes alastor, yes.. but please don’t stop” the soft whimper leaves your lips.

“lovely.” he replies, and with that his mouth is on your nipple, sucking it while he administers his wicked ministrations to your other one. His sharp teeth prickling on the edge of breaking skin, and you already feel like you won’t be able to take all of him. 

His hand trails down to aggressively grip your thighs, his tongue sucking the neglected nipple his fingers left. Your moans become frequent and messy, if he’s already making you go insane with the beginnings of foreplay... You might pass out and die when he starts fucking you, but you don’t care. Let him show you the true meaning of la petite mort.

“My my, what do we have here” his hand leaves your thigh to trace the wetness of your panties. A clawed finger rips it apart, the last barrier between you and total consumption by the Radio Demon. He takes the finger between your glistening lips, not entering, just teasing 

“I don’t think i will get enough of this pretty little body of ours anytime soon, pet” he says as his finger finally enters your sex, He moves his digit with an expertise you didn’t really know he had in him,  making you whimper his name, ooohs and aaaahs, your hips start threshing from the pleasure. If you continue at this pace, you will be  begging for permission to cum too soon. Pathetic. you think to yourself. Because you know how hard this building orgasm will be,you don’t know if he will grant you more than one orgasm. And will you murder you yourself if you don’t feel his cock inside you tonight. You take a deep breath in between your moans and will your hips to stay in place, your nerves to calm down. 

Alastor adds another finger, and it takes all of your willpower not to become a puddle of wetness right there. You bite your lip so hard you taste blood. 

“you do make a mess of yourself, don’t you? you just can’t help it” he says as he curls his digits inside you. Your hips start thrashing hard again, and you sink them deeper into the bed. The chains on your wrists shake with the effort to hold back. As if alastor wasn’t going to notice. “no no no what did I say?” he snaps angrily, he’s eyes flash red at you and he takes his fingers out with a wet “pop”, you feel like crying at the emptiness. “please please alastor, don’t stop” you plead. His hands leave you entirely, you are left with just his piercing gaze, the one that makes your skin burn. “did I say you could hold back? don’t pretend like you aren’t a common whore for me, that you love how pathetic it feels that you are creaming yourself and we haven’t even really started” 

his condescending tone just makes everything even more sublime. It’s so wrong how good being told you are nothing more than a common whore by the Radio Demon feels. But you never felt anything close to this. “please Alastor” you beg again, nothing but a small whisper

“I would love to taste this pussy, so red already for me, but since you broke one of the rules… i’m afraid I will make you understand that are nothing but my pretty cockslut the hard way” 

Punishment? His punishment sounds ever better than his praise right now. You moan at his voice. He laughs. 

His knees cage you, as he lifts his upper body from you and starts undoing his zipper. He is taking his cock out. Oh fuck, he’s gonna fuck you without anymore foreplay. And he’s not going to be gentle about it either. You shiver. 

Alastor pumps himself a few times, his cock is big, thick, and an angry red shade, flush red like that, because of you, just for you. He’s gonna make you pay: pay for holding back from him, pay for making him feel like an animal and almost losing his hard constructed control. 

The look on his face says it all, he’s gonna take it out on you and you can’t do nothing about it.

You don’t have much time to think about the repercussions, in one swift motion his tip is already inside you, stretching you deliciously. Your brain short circuits again, the feeling of his cock inside you is everything you imagine and more. Depraved, heavenly, delicious. You struggle in your binds again, you want desperately to touch him. To feel his skin beneath your finger, to scratch him, mark him. But oh well, he’s the Radio Demon, he’s the one in charge and you are his prey.

Alastor starts to slowly enter you, he’s trying his best to hold back. He knows if he does this too fast it will hurt in a way he doesn’t want you to feel. And by the look on his face going slow is as torturous for him as it is for you. tantalizing inch after tantalizing inch he spreads the walls of your cunt apart. You understand now why this is punishment, it hurts in a perfect way, it hurts even more that he is doing it slowly, and not just thrusting like you imagined  he would, if he had more time to work on you. 

You become a mess of moans and incoherent words. His cock is halfway inside you now “HoLY FUCK ALASTOR” you scream. It’s already too much. 

“There’s nothing holy about this my dear. I’m going to breed you. I’m going to break you” and with that he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Now you truly scream in pleasure and pain “you won’t be able to walk straight for days, you will feel me in every step, and you will thank me for it”. His thrusts pick up at breakneck speed, the bed shakes from the sheer force that Alastor is using to fuck you. Every snap of his hips you moan more and more. 

The sound you make when he takes everything out and enters you at once is so obscene that it would make Angel Dust blush. He’s growling now, his antlers growing bigger as he fucks you like his life dependend on it. As he fucks you like he hates you. 

Alastor pushes your hips higher, and suddenly he’s even deeper. His other hand holding your waist in a bruising grip. The strain on your pinned hands will bruise too. His lips graze the skin of your collarbone, he looks so feral you are scared he will maul, the thrill of not knowing adding to your fucked up sense of pleasure. 

He seems to pick up on your fear, and bites down on your collarbone, hauling as he tastes your blood and buries himself inside you again and again. Moans turned into screams, and the only thing coming out of your lips is his name, spoken like a profane prayer. You would give everything you have to Alastor, and he doesn’t even have to ask.

Your orgasm has been building for a while now, the coil on your belly becoming tighter and tighter, like a supernova about to be born. “Alastor, please please let me come” you beg. His unfocused eyes stare down at you, as he takes a moment from feasting on your sweet blood to address your desperate, sweet pleas.

“Don’t. You. Dare” he says, punctuating every word with a sharp thrust. As much as you want, you are not sure you will be able to hold any longer. “I beg you alastor, please let me cum, i will let you do anything you want. but i need it so badly, please please”

You sounded so desperate when you begged, so beautiful.

“Don’t strike deals you don’t know you can fulfill, pet” his voice is low, a warning. You ignore it. “I promise Alastor, anything”. Alastor laughs.

 his finger touches your clit as he finally allows your sweet relief “you may come now, sweet doe” and that’s it, you are off, you are dead. You see stars, you see the entire universe as you scream out and climax. Walls tightening around Alastor’s monster cock, eyes rowling, his name a scream on your lips. You ride out your wave slowly, but Alastor is not slowing down.

Instead he is picking up his pace, maneuvering your hips even higher, your chains are stretched to the limit. You can feel them start piercing your skin. Thrust after thrust the sensation becomes too much, you are too overstimulated to go through all of this again.

“i can’t take it, i can’t take it!”

Alastor doesn’t care. “I told you not to make deals if you can’t hold them, didn’t I?” You don’t answer, you can’t. you can’t to anything but let him fuck you as hard and as much as he want. “but you are such a little cockslut for me that you can’t help it. What a shame” 

He is gripping your hips so hard it breaks skin, tiny trails of blood on his claws. “you will take it. You better take it, or I will make you take it” static picks up as he threatens the last words. You know you are spent, you know how bad it hurts, you know how bad his words sound, but the lines between pleasure and pain are so blurred that you can’t think coherently. Even this  pain of being broken feels good. 

Still, tears fill your eyes and you start crying, from pleasure, from pain, you don’t know anymore. What Alastor is doing to you has no precedent. No one can do this like he does. He knows torture too well, and he is tortouring you in the most decadent, delicious ways possible. “alastor i want to, i want to so bad but i just can’t” the tears sting your eyes and stain your face. 

Alastor sees it. He slows down just a bit, his voice softening “oh my dear doe, but you can. Just this once more, just for me. One more” his voice is so maddening soft it acts like fuel to your tears. Your skin tingles and you feel giddy, somehow your throbbing hot, wet cunt seems to find the right amount of relief, and you can feel only pleasure again.

Alastor continues to fuck you, your moans returning to normal, you are being so loud now, making a mess of yourself, just like he said, and a big hand comes to cover your mouth. 

“Oh we can’t have you being this loud can we?” his voice goes to that delicious mocking tone. His thrusts are slower now, but as deep as they can go. “what would you friends say if they found out that you moan like a common whore for their feared radio demon.. hum,.?”

You start to feel the pit of your belly tightening again, and alastor doesn’t stop humiliating you. The degradation feels just the right amount of perfection. You are exactly what he says you are. A common whore when it comes to him. “weren’t you ashamed just a few moments ago? trying to hold back the sinful sounds you make when I touch you? I already gave you one orgasm. I’ve been way too generous for my liking. I should stop right now since you feel so conscious about this”  Alator’s breathing is becoming erratic, his thrusts sharp, hard, and out of the breakneck rhythm he was torturing you before.You start moaning even louder through his hand. “ungrateful little pet. You are just so greedy for one more orgasm, you don’t even care that everyone downstairs can hear you hm??”

You can’t think straight. you feel on the edge of glory, this orgasm threatening to be harder than your previous one, as if it is possible. “alastor i’m so sorry, i know i don’t deserve it” you muffle behind his hand, he hears you speaking and takes if off “but can you please let me cum? just this once? just for you. Please Al” his thrusts are truly erratic now. He’s close too, even though you are too wrapped up on your own sensations to notice 

“please” you beg, nothing more than a whisper. Already making peace with the fact that you are going to come without his permission and he will probably never fuck you again

“Good girl, you can come now”

instantly as you are granted his permissions your world explodes, blinding hot pleasure takes over your body, the waves of pleasure making your heart beat so fast you feel like it’s going to stop. The petit mort is coming, and her sweet embrace envelops you, specially now that you feel Alastor’s cock twitching and spilling his seed inside you. You scream his name. Maybe you hear him screaming yours too. You don’t know anymore, your nerves are singing from pleasure unheard of back  when you were alive. Pleasure so great it could only be found in hell. The most heavily, depraved way of torture. 

You come down from your high, still dizzy, your body going limp. You are not dead, but you are positively spent. You give in into the warm and fuzziness of sleep. 

The last thing you remember is the softness of a blanket, a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Oh my dear, I knew you had one more on you,spending yourself this way just for me! What a truly precious thing, doe”

You might be dreaming now.

-

You weren’t dreaming. Alastor praises you, knowing his words will be the last thing you hear before a night of peaceful, deep dreamless slumber. He makes sure to put the softest velvet blanket he owns on your body, not to make the damage you gladly allowed your body to take for him an inconvenience. Tomorrow you will wake up to fancy letters of praise and sweet chocolate covered strawberries. And no one will know how Alastor found the perfect doe to breed as he pleases during the height of his mating season.

[rawranansi]

eh heh so uh...anyone still on this ship

[kmackatie]

on the subject of mornings

Rook has buttoned up many shirts in his life, despite the running joke that he doesn't know what a shirt is based on the casual outfit he wore around the Lighthouse. They all work largely the same, button through hole and move to the next one until they are all in place. But he has never buttoned up someone else's shirt while they are wearing it.

Finished Veilguard, needed to process. Bon appeite!

Rating: M Fandom: Dragon Age: The Veilguard Relationship: Rook / Emmrich Volkarin Additional Tags: Male Rook, Dalish Rook, Mage Rook, Unnamed Rook, Post-Game, Established Relationship, Comfort, Forms of Intimacy, Slice of Life, knowing someone by knowing their routines, building a shared life, Character Study, mild sexual references Words: 3,996

[pixelscutz]

boyfriend kenji sato headcannons ✶⋆.˚

boyfriend kenji sato ✶⋆.˚ - will need you to help release his feelings since he’s known to keep them to himself until he bursts

boyfriend kenji sato ✶⋆.˚ - doesn't have a clue about what he’s doing while cooking

boyfriend kenji sato ✶⋆.˚ - worried about where you are 24/7

boyfriend kenji sato ✶⋆.˚ - huge keshi fan

boyfriend kenji sato ✶⋆.˚ - belives in the “dating to marry” rule

boyfriend kenji sato ✶⋆.˚ - loves making you two tea and ramen, as those are the only thing he knows how to make

boyfriend kenji sato ✶⋆.˚ - loves taking care of kids, especially getting to spoil them with random toys

boyfriend kenji sato ✶⋆.˚ - secretly wants your approval over everything he does

boyfriend kenji sato ✶⋆.˚ - extremely patient with you when it comes to sex, and will listen towards what you do and don’t feel comfortable with

boyfriend kenji sato ✶⋆.˚ - a huge fan of small gestures, like cooking food for you after a long day or buying you chocolate for your period cramps

boyfriend kenji sato ✶⋆.˚ - loves when the screen turns towards you during his baseball games

boyfriend kenji sato ✶⋆.˚ - answers you texts right away, even while he’s busy

[girlwithadragonheart]

hey i’m obsessed with lucanis (and spite) as well! I’m wondering if you would be interested in a mourn watcher elf rook x lucanis and have it be the week (or weeks i can’t remember) of rook being trapped in solas’ regret prison. i feel like spite would be pissed and confused as to why rook is missing! thank you and best wishes :)))

Lights Out

Pairing: GN!Rook x Lucanis (x Spite)

Summary: Rook is gone. Lucanis is grieving. Spite is restless.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Really depressing shit, spoilers obviously

A/N: I’m sorry this isn’t longer! I felt like dragging it out too much takes away from the visceral gut punch it is.

DATV Masterlist

Death was all Lucanis had ever known.

It clung to him like a shadow, a constant presence in his life as a Crow. It was his trade, his art, and his curse. The blood he spilled lined his pockets but left scars on his soul, marks he carried with him even when he tried to move beyond the life he once embraced. But death had always been something controlled. Until now.

Rook was gone. You were gone.

He stood in the doorway to your room, once petrified by the thought of how it reflected the Ossuary, now only drawn to what was left of your presence. His hands flexed at his sides, his chest feeling hollow.

The night was heavy with silence, the Lighthouse mourning the loss of its leader. Spite stirred uneasily in the recesses of his mind, his voice a low growl that rippled with confusion. “Where. Is. Rook?” The demon hissed, each word sharp as one of his daggers.

Lucanis didn’t respond immediately. He had no answer, and the truth stung worse than any wound.

Spite pressed on, his voice gaining a harsh edge. “Where. Is. Rook?!”

Lucanis could feel Spite’s frustration growing as he was ignored. Your absence was a gaping void, a wound that bled frustration and fear and loss. There was nothing he could do. The Fade was something so far out of his understanding, even with the demon possessing him. Still, he’d spent days searching, combing every lead, every thread of information he could grasp, only to find himself standing here, fists clenched in futile rage.

“Lucanis!” Spite snarled.

All he heard was you screaming his name as you were pulled into the Fade. He relived that moment every time he closed his eyes. What could he have done different? You had survived against impossible odds, and he had gotten his second shot at Ghilan’nain, somehow killing her. That high was quickly dashed as he watched your wide eyes, saw you reaching for him, screaming for him as you were dragged out of his reach.

“They’re gone, Spite,” Lucanis whispered, barely audible. 

“Where?” He demanded, pushing against the boundaries of Lucanis’s mind as though searching for you.

“I don’t know,” Lucanis’s voice was ragged as he huffed, taking a step further into your room and closing the door behind him. He ran a hand through his already-mussed hair. “They’re gone,” he repeated.

The faint scent of Nevarran spices drifted around the room, and the lingering smell of your oils. The things you had on a day to day basis haunted him. The Nevarran urns around the room and hastily scribbled notes on Elven architecture and the runes you’d found during the group’s travels. 

Lucanis didn’t have the heart to go any further in the room, his back pressed firmly against the door. His chest was tight, and he was finding it almost impossible to breathe, but all he wanted was to drink in your scent as long as it lingered. It was all he had left of you.

He had fought his way through countless battles, defied impossible odds, endured the Ossuary, and survived Ghilan’nain’s wrath, but none of it mattered now. The one light in his life had been extinguished. Every breath hit him like a blow to the chest, the tangible reminder of your presence that made his breath hitch. Every object in this room screamed your name, echoing in the silence that now filled the space.

Lucanis pressed harder back against the door, his legs threatening to give way beneath him. He forced himself forward, gripping the edge of the chaise lounge as he sat down heavily. His head fell into his hands as the weight of his grief threatened to crush him. He had dared to hope. After years of blood and shadows, he had begun to believe he could have something more---someone more. And now, that hope lay in ruins.

Spite stirred uneasily in the recesses of his mind, his presence a simmering heat that was neither comforting nor intrusive. The demon was quiet at first, an uncharacteristic stillness that only deepened the ache in Lucanis’s chest.

The room seemed to shrink around him, the walls pressing closer as the grief threatened to suffocate him. He reached out, almost without thinking, and picked up one of the notes you had left on the desk. The parchment was worn, the ink smudged in places, but your handwriting was unmistakable. His thumb traced the curves of your letters, his hands trembling as he clutched the note like a lifeline.

“You were my freedom,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. Tears blurred his vision, spilling over to streak down his face. “The only thing that made all of this worth it.”

Spite’s presence shifted, his usual arrogance subdued by something almost… mournful. “Rook…” the demon murmured, his voice a low growl that trembled at the edges.

Lucanis’s grip on the note tightened, his teeth clenched as guilt and rage swirled within him. “I failed them,” he hissed,his voice trembling with self-loathing. “I should have done more. I should have saved them.”

Spite didn’t argue. Lucanis wasn’t sure he was listening at all. The demon was restless, his silence heavy, a shared grief that settled over them both. “Rook.” Spite said again, pushing against Lucanis’s skull. He wouldn’t settle. He couldn’t. Spite wouldn’t stop moving, stop searching, looking through Lucanis, looking through the room, searching for his Rook.

“Spite…” Lucanis said wearily. “Spite, they’re gone,” he repeated, his voice cracking.

“Rook!” Spite pounded against Lucanis’s mind, screaming as though it would do anything to bring you back.

“Spite, enough!” Lucanis yelled finally, hands tangling in his hair. “Rook is gone! Gone! The one good thing---” His voice broke, and he couldn’t finish. The anguish in his chest was too much, a wound that refused to heal.

Lucanis pressed the note against his chest, his shoulders shaking as he fought to contain the sobs threatening to escape. For a long moment, he simply sat there, the silence of the room broken only by his ragged breaths. The scent of you lingered, faint but persistent, wrapping around him like a ghostly embrace.

Spite shifted again, his presence like a smoldering ember in the back of Lucanis’s mind. “Lucanis…” the demon growled quietly.

Lucanis’s hands stilled, his breath catching. “I know…” he whispered. “I know.”

You were gone.

And he didn’t know if you could come back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I'm not crying, you're crying ;-;

Let me know if you want to be on the Lucanis Tag List <3

Tag List: @cirillabelle

[circlemagemal]

[ - Magisters Sidereals - ]

And each was promised Power and glory beyond all reckoning If they would only come to the feet of the gods and ask. And so they joined in secret, telling none Who were not of the temples of their designs. And in Minrathous, in the heart of the Archon a sliver of fear grew, Stabbing like a wound. Though he knew not why. —Silence 1:1-1:17, Dissonant Verse

They'll be featured in some Fade/flashback scenes later on in my fanfic 'Nothing but ambition where hearts once beat' so I decided to come up with some fun designs for these 7 bastards ♡

I was definitely going for that "you're playing with the big boys now" vibe from Prince of Egypt, lmao.

[spatort]

Ok aber sind wir uns alle einig, dass Adam und Leo im nächsten Teil aneinandergeraten, weil Adam seit der Explosion insanely overprotective ist und irgendwann platzt ihm der Kragen und er sagt: "Weißt du eigentlich, wie das für mich war, nicht zu wissen, ob du lebst?!" und Leo sagt ganz ruhig: "Ja. Weiß ich.", weil er fünfzehn fucking Jahre lang dachte, Adam wäre tot

(and then they finally kiss about it und vielleicht küsst Adam ja wirklich Leo zuerst, auch wenn zumindest ich immer dachte, dass es andersrum sein würde, weil Leo ja derjenige ist, der eher mal seine Gefühle zum Ausdruck bringt anstatt sie runterzuschlucken, aber ich glaube, wir sind an einem Punkt, wo Adam mal zeigen muss, was Leo ihm bedeutet, von daher...)