#or its sourcing from too many places

[monosanimegenericzone]

Hunter x Hunter: language (amendment)

thank you person who commented on the first language post for pointing out two things.

one, the manga doesn't say the name of the meteoran language. we are only told that it's completely different from the standard Gelman and Jannan. I think i read it in a fanfic or something where they called the Meteoran language "Creole" which means just a combination of existing languages. in the real world it functions as a heavy dialect of a mother tongue mixed with elements of other languages- however for meteor city i believe it is a mixture of at least 4 languages since there are so many different ethnicities living in the same place. so the language name is a headcanoned name that i will call Meteoran Creole.

two, the third language chrollo spoke was Jannan which was the mother tongue of the Gelman training tape and he had to reverse learn jannan through gelman since they are allegedly dialects of each other. that one i have proof is correct. go read chapter 395 i swear im not hallucinating all of this.

and another thing that got pointed out in another rb was that bono would probably speak the language of his people which i 100% agree with. i suspect he landed in meteor city and learned Meteoran Creole and then learned gelman.

thatd be so cute actually bono learning through the same tapes that chrollo and paku learned from.

[sarenderpity]

I NEED people to understand that LITTER (the stray trash we see pile up in populated areas) and LITTERING (the act of just throwing trash willfully on the ground) are often largely unrelated. Very little litter was just abandoned on purpose. Most of it makes it's way out of uncovered trash recepticals, open car doors, imperfect delivery of trash from point A to point B, and in some areas, storm water and wind carrying trash from it's landfill destination to another unintentional location.

"Who would ever litter?" Bro YOU. Any time you've used an uncovered park trashcan on a windy day.

[necronomeconomicism]

Ok gotta talk about it.

As a Jewish historian, I fucking hate Israel in ways most probably will never be able to comprehend. I'm going to try and explain it anyways. The central creation myth of Israel is that it is Jewish, and then consequently, that Israel is a part of Jewishness. Its easy to simply state this is false, but fully comprehending this and putting it into practice in thought and deed seems rare to me.

The evil at the heart of this violence predates the recent acceleration of genocide. Israel is a colony, and more than that, an antisemitic fraud itself. After WW2, when Israel was being founded, the Jews of Europe generally did not wave goodbye to their neighbors and head to the promised land. Many were expelled from their homes. Zionism itself, as an action, was a false choice at the time. A mere excuse to place an ally in the middle east, and an excuse to complete the expulsion and destruction of the European Jew. The Zionist Jew is more than complicit in this, they actively seek the destruction and assimilation of all other Jews.

Many fail to realize, and largely because of Israel, that Jews are not inherently white, Ashkenazi, European-descended people. Our faith and culture has an immense variety that is spread all across the globe. Jewishness, in population and volume of culture, exists more so outside of Israel than within it. Israel is for a very specific kind of Jew. The kind that lets Yiddish die, that attaches themselves to European things, that makes themselves and their practices as white as possible.

And they have the nerve, the fucking belligerent GALL, to frame themselves as the necessary saviors of our people. To the Zionist, questioning Israel is to question Jewishness itself. They bake adoration for the colonial machine into their very prayers, and push them on us even as children. To *not* oppress, to *not* kill, to *not* genocide, is to invite death. This is the core of fascistic thought, of course. "Kill them before they kill us." And they KNOW this too, they really do. The truth of that irony does not matter, because as is true for all fascists, the truth itself does not matter to them. They wanted this, they wanted this even before the British saw it in their best interest to give them the land. Any excuse to RETVRN, as the neo-nazis say of Rome, or the German Empire, or whatever the fuck stupid country they want to poorly animate the corpse of. Some select Zionists even *sided with the fucking Nazis* in agreement they should abandon Europe to colonize Palestine. (Haavara Agreement)

My people have proved time and time and time again you don't need a nation state to have an enduring culture. We have protected ourselves for thousands of years without the help of these spiteful, doom-saying maniacs. I was going to post something like this on Passover, but that would be hypocritical. The state of Israel doesn't actually have shit to do with Jewishness. Hear Israel (the state and supporters, Israel the icon) I should outlive it long enough to bury it. (old yiddish curse)

Free Palestine. Donate what you can, they need it right now.

[dalishious]

The Sanitized Lore of Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Tevinter is the heart of slavery in Thedas. This lore has been established in every game, novel, comic, and other extended material in the Dragon Age franchise to date that so much as mentions the nation. But in Dragon Age: The Veilguard, when we are finally able to actually visit this location for the first time… this rampant slavery we’ve heard so much about is nowhere to be found. It’s talked about here and there; Neve mentions The Viper has a history of freeing slaves, as does Rook themselves if they choose the Shadow Dragon faction as their origin, for example. But walking down the streets of Minrathous, you’d never know. Because Dragon Age: The Veilguard, for all its enjoyment otherwise, has one glaring issue: It’s too clean.

The world of Thedas is full of injustices. Humans persecute elves, fear qunari, and belittle dwarves. Mages of any race are treated like caged animals in most places. The nobility is corrupt. Although, Dragon Age has not always handled these injustices well, mind you. Many, many times I’ve found myself frustrated with moments that just feel like a Racism Simulator. But what makes it worth it, is when you can actually do something about it. These injustices are things that a good-aligned character strives to fight back against, maybe even for very personal reasons. Part of the power-fantasy for many minorities is that this fight feels tangible. I cannot arrange the assassination of a corrupt politician in real life, but I sure can get Celene Valmont stabbed to death in Dragon Age: Inquisition, for example. Additionally, these fictional injustices can be used to make statements on real life parallels, like any source of media. For example, no, the Chant of Light is not real, but acting as a stand-in for Catholicism, through a media analysis lens we can explore what the Chant of Light communicates on a figurative level.

When starting Dragon Age: The Veilguard and selecting to play as an elf – this should be unsurprising to anyone who is familiar with my bias towards them – I was fully prepared to enter the streets of Minrathous and immediately get called “knife-ear” or “rabbit”. But this did not happen. I thought perhaps it was just a prologue thing, but returning to Minrathous once again, there was not a single shred of disapproval from any NPC I encountered that wasn’t a generic enemy to fight. And even the generic enemies, the Tevinter Nationalist cult of the Venatori, didn’t seem to care at all that I was a lineage they deemed inferior before now. This is a stark difference from entering the Winter Palace in Dragon Age: Inquisition and immediately getting hit with court disapproval and insults. Are we now to believe that Tevinter has somehow solved its astronomical racism and classism problems in the ten years since the past game? Or perhaps are we to believe all the characters who have demonstrated Tevinter’s systemic discriminatory views were just lying or outliers? Because it makes absolutely no sense at all for this horribly corrupt nation to not have a shred of reactivity to an elven or qunari Rook prancing around. But here were are, and not a single NPC even recognizes my character’s lineage. And because this is so different from every single past game, it feels weird.

As an elf, you have the option to make a comment about how “too many humans look down on us” in one scene early in the game. You can also talk to Bellara and Davrin, the elven companions, about concerns that people won’t trust elves after finding out about the big bad Ancient Evanuris… but this is presented as if elves don’t already face persecution. It’s all so limited in scope that it could be all too easily missed if you are not paying very close attention, and coming into the game with pre-existing lore knowledge.

All this made it easy to first assume that the developers simply over-corrected an attempt to address the Racism Simulator moments. And if that was the case, than I would at least give credit to effort; they did not find the right balance, but they at least tried. However, the sudden lack of discrimination against different lineages in Dragon Age: The Veilguard is not the only sanitized example of lore present.

In Dragon Age: Origins, Zevran Arainai is a companion who is from the Antivan Crows; a group of assassins. He discusses in detail how the Crows buy children and raise them into murder machines through all kinds of torture. The World of Thedas books also describe how the Antivan Crows work, echoing what Zevran says and expanding that of the recruitment, only a select handful of those taken by the Crows even survive. When you start Dragon Age: The Veilguard as an Antivan Crow, you immediately unlock a re-used codex entry from the past, “The Crows and Queen Madrigal”, that says the following:

“His guild has a reputation to uphold. They are ruthless, efficient, and discreet. How would they maintain such notoriety if agents routinely revealed the names of employers with something as "banal" as torture.”

Ruthless, efficient, and discreet. Torture is banal. This is what the Crows were before Dragon Age: The Veilguard decided to take them in a very different direction. The Antivan Crows in this latest game are painted as freedom fighters against the Antaam occupation of Treviso. Teia calls the Crows “patriots”. And while I can certainly believe that the Crows would have enough motivation to fight back against the Antaam, given that it is in direct opposition to their own goals, I cannot understand why they are suddenly suggested to be morally good. They are assassins. They treat their people like tools and murder for money. Even as recent as the Tevinter Nights story Eight Little Talons, it is addressed that the Antivan Crows are in it for the coin and power, with characters like Teia being outliers for wanting to change that. It makes the use of the older codex all the more confusing, as it sets the Antivan Crows up as something they are no longer portrayed as.

I personally think it would have been really interesting to explore a morally corrupt faction in comparison to say, the Shadow Dragons. Perhaps even as a protagonist, address things like the enslavement of “recruits” to make the faction at least somewhat better. (They are still assassins, after all.) Instead, we’re just supposed to ignore everything unsavory about them, I suppose…

We could discuss even further examples. Like how the Lords of Fortune pillage ruins but it’s okay, because they never sell artifacts of cultural importance, supposedly. Or how the only problem with the Templar Order in Tevinter is just the “bad apples” that work with Venatori. I could go on, but I don’t think I have to.

It is because of all this sanitization, that I cannot believe this was simply over-correction on a developmental part. Especially when there is still racism in the game, in other forms. The impression I’m left with feels far deeper than that; it feels corporate. As if a computer ran through the game’s script and got rid of anything with “too much” political substance. The strongest statements are hidden in codex entries, and I almost suspect they had to be snuck in.

Between a Racism Simulator and just ignoring anything bad whatsoever, I believe a balance is achievable; that sweet spot that actually has something to say about what it is presenting. I know it is achievable, because there are a few bright spots of this that I’ve encountered in Dragon Age: The Veilguard too. For example, some of the codex entries like I mentioned, and almost all the content with the Grey Wardens thus far. It is a shame there is not more content on this level.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard is overall still a fun game, in my opinion. But it’s hard to argue that it isn’t missing the grit of its predecessors. The sharp edges have been smoothed. The claws have been removed. The house has been baby-proofed. And for what purpose?

-----

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[stellophiliac]

how to build a digital music collection and stuff

spotify sucks aaaass. so start downloading shit!!

file format glossary

.wav is highest quality and biggest

.mp3 is very small, but uses lossy compression which means it's lower quality

.flac is smaller than .wav, but uses lossless compression so it's high quality

.m4a is an audio file format that apple uses. that's all i really know

downloading the music

doubledouble.top is a life saver. you can download from a variety of services including but not limited to apple music, spotify, soundcloud, tidal, deezer, etc.

i'd recommend ripping your music from tidal or apple music since they're the best quality (i think apple music gives you lossless audio anyway. .m4a can be both lossy and lossless, but from the text on doubledouble i assume they're ripping HQ files off apple music)

i also love love love cobalt.tools for ripping audio/video from youtube (they support a lot of other platforms too!)

of course, many artists have their music on bandcamp — purchase or download directly from them if you can. bandcamp offers a variety of file formats for download

file conversion

if you're downloading from apple music with doubledouble, it spits out an .m4a file.

.m4a is ok for some people but if you prefer .flac, you may wanna convert it. ffmpeg is a CLI (terminal) tool to help with media conversion

if you're on linux or macOS, you can use parameter expansion to batch convert all files in a folder. put the files in one place first, then with your terminal, cd into the directory and run:

for i in *.m4a; do ffmpeg -i "$i" "${i%.*}.flac"; done

this converts from .m4a to .flac — change the file extensions if needed.

soulseek

another way to get music is through soulseek. soulseek is a peer-to-peer file sharing network which is mainly used for music. nicotine+ is a pretty intuitive (and open-source) client if you don't like the official one.

you can probably find a better tutorial on soulseek somewhere else. just wanted to make this option known

it's bad etiquette to download from people without sharing files of your own, so make sure you've got something shared. also try to avoid queuing up more than 1-2 albums from one person in a row

tagging & organizing your music

tagging: adding metadata to a music file (eg. song name, artist name, album) that music players can recognize and display

if you've ripped music from a streaming platform, chances are it's already tagged. i've gotten files with slightly incorrect tags from doubledouble though, so if you care about that then you might wanna look into it

i use musicbrainz picard for my tagging. they've got pretty extensive documentation, which will probably be more useful than me

basically, you can look up album data from an online database into the program, and then match each track with its file. the program will tag each file correctly for you (there's also options for renaming the file according to a certain structure if you're into that!)

there's also beets, which is a CLI tool for... a lot of music collection management stuff. i haven't really used it myself, but if you feel up to it then they've got extensive documentation too. for most people, though, it's not really a necessity

how you wanna organize your music is completely up to you. my preferred filestructure is:

artist > album > track # track

using a music player

the options for this are pretty expansive. commonly used players i see include VLC, foobar2000, clementine (or a fork of it called strawberry), and cmus (for the terminal)

you can also totally use iTunes or something. i don't know what audio players other systems come with

i personally use dopamine. it's a little bit slow, but it's got a nice UI and is themeable plus has last.fm support (!!!)

don't let the github page fool you, you don't have to build from source. you can find the releases here

click the "assets" dropdown on the most recent release, and download whichever one is compatible with your OS

syncing

if you're fine with your files just being on one device (perhaps your computer, but perhaps also an USB drive or an mp3 player), you don't have to do this

you can sync with something like google drive, but i hate google more than i hate spotify

you can get a free nextcloud account from one of their providers with 2GB of free storage. you can use webDAV to access your files from an app on your phone or other device (documents by readdle has webDAV support, which is what i use)

disroot and blahaj.land are a couple providers i know that offer other services as well as nextcloud (so you get more with your account), but accounts are manually approved. do give them a look though!!

if you're tech-savvy and have an unused machine lying around, look into self-hosting your own nextcloud, or better yet, your own media server. i've heard that navidrome is a pretty good audio server. i unfortunately don't have experience with self-hosting at the moment so i have like zero advice to give here. yunohost seems to be a really easy way to manage a server

afterword

i don't know if any of this is helpful, but i just wanted to consolidate my personal advice in one place. fuck big tech. own your media, they could take it away from you at any moment

[sirenpearldust]

Found you

Baby Daddy Azriel!

Series masterlist ⋆ Part one ⋆ Part two

Pair: Azriel x Spring Court! Reader

Word count: 1.993

Warning: none

Azriel was perched high in the branches of a sturdy oak, the warm spring air brushing against his  wings. He was ordered by Rhysand to observe Tamlin’s movements, the task proving far less engaging than he had hoped.

The silver ring in his hand spun idly between his fingers, glinting in the sunlight as he surveyed the lands below. Distant rustle of leaves and the water splashing from a waterfall nearby were his only companions until a sound broke through the monotony.

A laugh, light and sweet, unmistakably a childs floated up to him. Tilting his head, he scanned the bloomy landscape for its source, curiosity piqued. A rare smile ghosted across his lips as he thought about Nyx.

Azriel shifted silently on the branch he sat on, his gaze fixed on the scene before him.

The child, a boy, chased a small cat through the tall, swaying grass.                                                   But it wasn’t the laughter or even the playful scene that rooted him in place. 

It was the wings. The boy had wings. Illyrian wings.

Azriel’s breath caught as he studied the child more closely. The size, the structure they were unmistakable, a testament.

But how? How could an Illyrian child end up here, deep in Spring Court territory, so far from their mountain homes?

He leaned forward slightly, his shadows curling around him protectively, as his mind raced.         Was this an accident? A trick? Did he get lost or was it something far more troubling?             Whatever the answer, he couldn’t walk away now.

Azriel watched as the boy’s shadow stretched across the grass, curling and mingling with his own shadows. The sight tugged at something deep within him, a faint, unshakable unease. Shadowsingers were rare.

Slowly, he stepped forward, his movements careful, deliberate. The boy turned at the sound of his approach, his laughter vanishing in an instant. Wide, startled eyes met Azriel’s and the boy’s small wings twitching as if preparing to flee.

His gaze on Azriel.

Azriel stopped in his tracks, his heart tightening in his chest. Those eyes, he had seen them before. Years ago. In this very court.

The boy’s shadows rippled as if echoing his unease, ready to attack Azriel if he made a wrong move. He simply stood there, his fists clenched, his wings half-flared. And those familiar eyes, bright and piercing, stared at Azriel with something that felt like both a question and Curiosity.

“Where are your parents?” Azriel asked, his voice soft, not to scare the child.

The boy tilted his head. “Mommy’s busy,” he replied simply, relaxing a little, kicking at a tuft of grass with his bare foot.

Azriel’s shadows stirred restlessly, their unease mirroring his own. “And your father?” he pressed.

The boy shrugged, petting the white cat that had positioned itself between them.

“Mommy said he’s gone.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched tightly, his teeth grinding together, unease blooming in him. He didn’t want to finish the thought forming in his mind, didn’t want to follow the thread of suspicion unraveling before him.

Gone. That single word hung in the air, heavy with too many meanings. And Azriel just hoped, prayed, it wasn’t what he feared.

Azriel’s jaw tightened as memories he had long buried resurfaced. 

Four years ago, in the Spring Court, he had been tangled in a fleeting, passionate affair with a noblewoman. It hadn’t meant much, not to him, at least. Their connection had ended in bitterness and harsh words. He hadn’t thought of her since.

But now, as he looked at the boy with Illyrian wings and familiar eyes, he did not want it to be true. His shadows pressed closer.

It can’t be, Azriel thought, though the pit in his stomach kept tightening with doubt. There was another explanation for this child’s existence. He hoped the boy wasn’t his son. Because if he was…

He needed answers, and he needed them now.

The boy tilted his head, watching Azriel with wide, curious eyes. There was no fear in his gaze anymore, only fascination, innocence.

Azriel’s stomach twisted as he took in the details he couldn’t ignore. The boy’s dimples, so faint yet unmistakable, mirrored his own. His skin was the same deep shade of brown and then there were the shadows swirling faintly around the boy, just as protective of him as his own.

The boy smiled tentatively. It was like staring into a reflection of himself, a reflection smaller and unshaped by the cruelty of this world yet. It was starting to freak him out.

“Amias!”

The voice cut through the stillness, edged with worry. Azriel turned sharply toward the sound, his heart stuttering in his chest as you came running into view.

The boy lit up, squealing with happiness.

 “Mommy!”

You swept the boy into your arms clutching him tightly against your chest as though you’d feared he’d vanish. Azriel stood frozen, watching as you smoothed a hand over the boy’s hair, voice scolding, soft but firm.

“Did I not tell you to stay inside?” you said, tone a mixture of relief and frustration. 

“What were you thinking, wandering out here alone?”

Amias squirmed a little in your grasp, clearly unfazed by the reprimand. Adjusting your hold on him, shifting him onto your hip you turned and began walking back toward the house.

Azriel blinked, completely thrown off. You hadn’t even looked at him. Not a single glance, not a flicker of acknowledgment. As though he weren’t standing there at all.

“Y/n”

You kept walking, your steps steady, your soft blue dress swaying in the wind. But Azriel didn’t miss the way your body tensed, the slight shudder that rippled through your frame. You’d heard him.

“Wait,” he called, his voice firm. When you didn’t stop, he winnowed directly in front of you.

You didn’t falter, stepped around him as though he were a ghost, attention fixed solely on the boy in you arms, your son. His son, Azriel realized with a jarring certainty.

His jaw clenched as he watched you, ignoring him, the way you pretended he wasn’t standing right there. As if he was invisible.

But he wasn’t about to let you slip away. He reached out, his fingers wrapping gently around your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

Your steps faltered, and  Amias looked up at him. The happiness that had lit his young face moments before drained away, replaced by wide-eyed fear. He clung tighter to his mother, his tiny wings twitching nervously. His shadows curling around the both of you.

Azriel’s  focus shifted to the sound of movement nearby. A servant stood at a distance, observing the scene with a wary eye. His sharp gaze caught the subtle shift of their hands, reaching for the hilt of a blade.

Azriel released your arm, his fingers lingering for a moment. He stepped back, his eyes finally met your angry, guarded eyes, filled with a familiar coldness he’d seen once before. The same expression you’d worn the last day he left, the day everything had ended between you.

He had never expected to see you again, at least not like this.

Without a word, you gently placed Amias on the ground, your hand lingering on his small shoulder before you spoke.

“Lex, take Amias and tell Nara to get him ready for bed.” Your voice was firm, smooth, like he had remembered. The servant from before stepped forward and ushered Amias away with a soft murmur.

Azriel watched them go, his heart sinking as the boy kept glancing back to them, eyes full of confusion and fear. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the way the child reacted to him.

He watched them disappear into the house. 

He turned back to you, you were already facing him, your eyes cold and unreadable.

“So, you’re not going to say anything?” His voice was quiet, the words sharp, but you detected hurt.

Your expression remained impassive

“Are you done trespassing into my court?”

“Is he my son?” His voice was low, strained, as he finally asked the question that had haunted him since he first saw the boy’s face.

Your gaze didn’t waver, eyes locking onto his with an icy clarity.

“Our laws state any Spring Court citizen is allowed to kill any trespassers” you said flatly.

 “Are you here to die?”

You were daring him to make a move, daring him to test your resolve. It wasn’t just a threat, it was a challenge, one he wasn’t sure he was prepared to meet.

”I am here to know if he is my son!”

You didn’t answer right away, but the smirk that crept onto your lips made Azriel’s gut twist. It was a look he knew too well, too familiar. One that reminded him too much of Eris.

You shrugged, clearly unbothered by his insistence.

“Let me rephrase,” he said. “Did you fuck another Illyrian after me?”

The laugh that followed was like a slap. It took everything in Azriel not to let his anger flare, but he couldn’t help the tightening in his jaw, out of frustration. You really had a way to make him angry.

He had hoped for answers, serious answers and instead he was met with mockery.

He had to bite back the words he wanted to say. He didn’t expect what you said next.

“He’s yours.”

He and his shadows froze, momentarily stunned, as if they, too, were caught off guard by the blunt honesty in your voice. Azriel couldn’t move for a moment.

Now that the truth was out there, raw and plain, one question still lingered on his tongue.

“Why did you hide him from me?”

“He’s safe. Do not bother caring or playing house now.”

Azriel’s heart twisted at your words.

“He’s my son. I have a right-“

“You don’t have any rights,” you snapped, your anger flaring like a sudden storm. Eyes blazing, full of fury “He’s my son, my heir, and a citizen of this court.” 

The finality in your tone struck him like a blow. Azriel recoiled slightly, his breath catching in his throat. The woman he remembered was not there, in her place stood someone entirely different.

You turned away from him, back rigid with anger. The woman he had known had been soft, kind. This woman? She was a warrior, someone shaped by cruelty and far, far more dangerous then he remembered.

You had shut him out, made it clear that any claim he thought he might have on his son was nonexistent. He had no rights here, not in your eyes, not in this court.

“He’s still Illyrian,” he continued. You kept walking, ignoring him again.

“He needs to learn how to fight, fly and control his shadows.”

Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, but before he could say anything, you waved your hand dismissively.

“Do not worry about his education,” you said, voice sharper now. 

“He’s fine and he will not be sent to the camps you were raised in.”

Azriel’s feet moved before his mind could catch up, his long strides closing the distance between you in seconds. He grabbed your arm, halting you.

“Stop this nonsense,” he said, his voice low but forceful. Your skin soft under his rough, scarred hands. 

You turned to face him, expression as cold as ever.

“What do you exactly want?” Your words were clipped, as though you had already decided this conversation was over. 

He wanted to know his son.

You could read his mind. Your lips curled into a cruel smile. 

“Fine, but you will get to know him on my terms. No discussion.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed as he followed your steps, the frustration building in his chest. 

“What conditions? He is my son I should see him whenever I can!”

But you didn’t answer him. Just kept walking, pace never slowing. 

Your silence gnawed at him, driving him insane with every unanswered question. You wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t speak beyond the bare minimum.

Main Taglist: @bubybubsters @lilah-asteria

[thegreatwicked]

This obviously needed its own post and here it is, a collection of blog posts and resources I have found and used for my own writing, I hope they help you too! Go forth and write that spice!

The Smut Writers Dictionary By @maybeeatspaghetti Seriously, how many different way are there to write cock? Does anyone else wonder if they've used the word 'lips' too many times? Well, this is a good place to start!

The Ultimate Guide to Writing Smut This is the first one I found and I go back to it frequently! There's also some great information about specific areas of sex that may not be common knowledge for first time writers!

How to Write Smut By @urfriendlywriter Another great source of information from different verbiage to use and a few tips to hel you along (giggity)

Smut Thesaurus By @prurientpuddlejumper just what it sounds like and you can never have too many words at your disposal.

6 Steps to Writing Better Sex By @chaoschaoswriting If you're at a loss or just want some more help this is antoher fantastic blog!

Writing Prompts NSFW By @seidenbros Need some dialogue? Or a story idea? Have a look!

#100 NSFW/Smut Dialogue Prompts By @a-cure-for-writers-block More? More. This is also a fantastic writing blog with lots to offer!

Intimate + Sexual Headcannon Questions By @petalsprompts Good questions to ask your characters to get to know them better and make more well rounded characters!

Smut & Mature (18+) Master List By @pendarling A great list dialogue prompts, scenarios, and helpful bits!

Poly NSFW Alphabet By @smaoineamhsalach Another great way to get to know your characters and maybe a handful of ideas for story ideas.

Kink Prompts Another from the previous blogger above and I didn't know what half of these are! I'll work on a kink dictionary next!

Writing Smut 101: Overcoming Smut Shame @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 There's a lot to be said for this particular subject! It's hard to write stuff like this, so how do you get over it? Start here!

How to Write a Kiss Scene By @youneedsomeprompts Yes!!! I still struggle with this one! There's a thousand ways to kiss, find your favorite!

Smut Oneliners By @deity-prompts you can never have enough one-liners!!

How to Write a (Great) Sex Scene Another great article for new smut writers

9 Tips for Writing Steamy Scenes More tips to help you wirte good steamy stuff!

How to Write Erotica and a Damn Fine Sex Scene A WEALTH if information on writing, structuring, and helpful tips!

@saradikahas a fantatic blog with graphics for you to use to add some fun to your posts. Things like MDNI Banners, 18+ Content Warnings, Support Your Favorite Writers and Reblog banners! They are free to use but she does ask that you reblog her stuff if you do! She's also a very talented writer and she writes some AMAZING Din Djarin stories!

Gay Sex Positions Guide This is a WONDERFUL adition and thank you so much @b7bubby for bringing this to my attention, I didn't have any resources for writing M/M fairings but this is a much needed addition to the spicy community! i've never written an M/M pairing and I feel like such an idiot for overlooking the need for a resource like this!

Writing the Perfect Kiss Scene provided by @writers-potiona fantastic little guide to writing better kisses!

If you find any other great smut writing resources feel free to tag me so I can add them to this list! Good luck with your writing! Now go write that story and LET THE SPICE FLOW!!!!

[sugarplumfairy777]

⋆˚✿˖°failure..? doubt...? limitations...? uhh...what is that?

#nonegativityinmyvocabularycuzimgodduh

♡︎doubts

there are moments when doubt clouds your mind, when you question your true nature, and wonder if it’s really possible that you are the embodiment of pure consciousness, that you are god itself. but here’s the truth: you are powerful beyond measure, and doubt is simply the ego’s way of keeping you small. remember, you are not the voice in your head. you are the one who hears it. you are not your body, your circumstances, or the labels others give you. all of those things change. you, however, are the unchanging, eternal awareness behind it all—pure consciousness. that alone is your essence, and it is limitless. it is god in its most divine, infinite form. you are that. your are god.

so why doubt? doubt arises when we identify too strongly with our limited selves—with the ego, the stories we tell ourselves about who we think we are, and the false separation we feel from the universe. but here’s the thing: that separation is an illusion. you are not separate. you are one with everything, one with all beings, one with the source of all creation. if god is infinite and formless, then that is who you truly are.

the world we live in is built on beliefs that reinforce separation and limitation, which make us forget our true nature as god, as pure consciousness.

from a young age, we’re taught to define ourselves by external things—our name, our achievements, our social status, how others perceive us. we’re told that we’re just humans, separate from everything else, living in a material world where everything seems to exist outside of us. society measures success by how much we have or how well we fit into its standards. this constant focus on the external world leads us to forget the infinite power we hold inside.

there’s also a deep-rooted belief in scarcity and competition. we’re told that there’s not enough for everyone and that we need to work hard to “earn” our place in the world. this idea of having to compete with others to survive keeps us in a mindset of lack and limitation. it makes us feel like we’re small, powerless, and unworthy of the greatness we naturally possess.

on top of that, most of us are bombarded by information and distractions that keep our attention outside of ourselves—social media, advertisements, entertainment. these things make us constantly compare ourselves to others, reinforcing the idea that we’re not good enough, that we’re missing something. when our minds are always focused outward, we forget to look within, where our true power lies.

religion, too, can play a role in reinforcing the separation. many traditional religious teachings portray god as something outside of us—an all-powerful being up in the sky, separate from us, judging us. this can make it hard to recognize that god is within us, that we are one with the divine. instead of seeing ourselves as divine beings with infinite power, we’re taught to see ourselves as flawed, imperfect, and in need of salvation from something outside of us.

the education system also teaches us to prioritize logic, reason, and empirical evidence. while these things are valuable, they often make us dismiss our inner knowing, our intuition, and our connection to something greater than the physical world. we start to believe that the only “real” things are those we can see, measure, and prove scientifically, which distances us from the understanding that we are consciousness itself.

all these systems—society, media, religion, education—focus on the material, the external, and reinforce the idea that we’re separate, small, and limited. but these are just illusions. the truth is, beyond all these distractions, we are god in human form. we are the creators of our reality, infinite and powerful beyond measure.

to overcome this conditioning, we need to remember to turn inward, to connect with our true essence. by shifting our focus from the external world to the inner, we can begin to see that the separation and limitation we’ve been taught are illusions. we are, and have always been, one with the infinite.

think about that for a moment: you are the consciousness that creates worlds.

the doubt you feel is just the mind holding on to a false story. it’s the ego trying to convince you that you need to stay small, stay afraid. but you don’t have to. you have the power to step into your true nature at any time, to realize that you are already the infinite, and that nothing can diminish your divine power. cuz ur god duh. 😝

how do you release these doubts?

shift your perspective: any time you find yourself doubting, pause and ask, “who is doubting right now?” is it your higher self, your infinite consciousness? or is it your mind, your ego, your conditioning? you’ll realize that it’s always the latter. remind yourself that the real you, the one observing, is always free from doubt.

affirm your power: wake up every morning and affirm: “i am infinite. i am consciousness itself. i am god in form.” these words are not just affirmations—they are the deepest truth of your existence. repeat them, let them sink into your being, until you feel the energy of your divinity pulsing through your every cell.

remember your unity with everything: god is not something separate from you. the universe is not some distant force. it is you. you are made from the same divine consciousness that runs through every star, every planet, every being. the same consciousness that creates life flows through you, too. you are the universe experiencing itself.

embrace your power: you are not weak, you are not small. you are the creator of your reality, the manifestor of your dreams, and the master of your destiny. nothing outside of you can take that power away from you because it is in you. it is you. every time you doubt, remind yourself of this: i am the creator. i am the source of all power.

you are limitless. the doubt you feel is just a temporary veil over your true power, but it can’t last. every time you bring your awareness back to the present moment, every time you remember that you are pure consciousness, the veil lifts. the illusion fades.

there is no need to doubt when you realize you are already everything you seek. you don’t have to strive to become god, to become powerful, to become divine—you already are. it’s always been you. it will always be you.

so, the next time doubt creeps in, breathe deeply, smile, and remember: you are pure consciousness, infinite, powerful, and divine. you are the creator of all that is. step into that truth and watch the world transform around you.

♡︎failure

we’ve all grown up with the idea that failure is something to be feared, that it’s a sign we’re not good enough or capable enough. but what if i told you that failure isn’t real? it’s an illusion we’ve been conditioned to believe in, and once you truly understand this, especially in the context of the void state, you can release the fear of failure and step into your infinite power.

here’s why failure doesn’t exist and how realizing this can change your entire perspective on life.

1. failure is just a label, not a reality

first of all, the concept of failure is something we create in our minds. it’s a label we slap on situations when things don’t go according to our expectations. society conditions us to believe that if we don’t achieve a specific outcome, we’ve failed. but who decides what failure even means? it’s not the universe. it’s not some law of existence. it’s us, based on societal norms and conditioning.

society sets all these expectations—like getting a certain job, reaching milestones by certain ages, succeeding in school, relationships, and more. when we don’t meet those arbitrary standards, we call it failure. but the truth is, life doesn’t operate according to those rigid standards. there are no universal rules that say you have to achieve a particular thing by a certain time. when we attach the label of failure to an experience, it’s just a reflection of our own beliefs—not reality.

2. the void state: where failure dissolves

now, let’s talk about the void state. the void is a place where all external ideas and constructs—including failure—dissolve. the void state is the place of infinite potential, pure consciousness, and limitless creation. when you enter the void, you step outside of the physical world’s limitations, stepping into a space where everything is possible.

in the void, there is no concept of failure, because there are no external judgments or expectations. it’s a state where you can create whatever reality you desire, free from the constraints of your current circumstances. when you realize you can access this space, the idea of failure becomes irrelevant. why? because the void is a reminder that you are always in control of your reality, no matter what happens in the physical world. failure is tied to the ego’s attachment to outcomes, but in the void, the ego doesn’t exist. the void reminds you that you are not limited by past mistakes, external circumstances, or societal expectations. you are infinite consciousness with the power to create and manifest anything you choose. when you realize this, “failure” can’t touch you, because you understand that you can always start fresh, that you’re constantly creating in each moment.

3. there are only lessons and growth

instead of seeing failure, recognize that every experience is an opportunity for growth. when things don’t go the way you planned, it doesn’t mean you failed—it means you learned. it means you grew. each experience teaches you something valuable about yourself, your path, and the world around you.

when you shift your perspective to see every situation as a stepping stone, you’ll realize there’s no such thing as failure—there’s only progress. every setback is a redirection, a guide leading you toward a better understanding of yourself and your desires. it’s the universe saying, “this is what you need to learn before you reach the next level.” from this perspective, what we call “failure” becomes just another part of the journey toward expansion and self-mastery.

4. the power of the void to manifest success

when you fully embrace the void state and recognize your power to manifest, you understand that there is no wrong path. whatever you desire, you can create it. the void is a space where you can strip away all the beliefs that tell you otherwise, a space where you can manifest new realities instantly, regardless of what has happened before.

if you ever feel like you’ve failed at something, use that as a cue to tap into the void. enter that space of stillness, of limitless possibility, and remind yourself that you are the creator of your life. nothing is set in stone, nothing is permanent. everything is subject to change based on your thoughts and beliefs. if you desire a new outcome, you have the power to manifest it.

in the void, you realize that “failure” is just another momentary experience, not a permanent mark on your life. you can always rewrite the story, start fresh, and bring your desires into reality without being held back by what others call failure.

5. you’re always winning, even when it doesn’t seem like it

when you’re stuck in the mindset of failure, you’re looking through a narrow lens, focusing only on what didn’t go according to plan. but when you zoom out, you’ll often realize that those moments were setting you up for something greater. Trust that you are always winning. every step you take, even when it doesn’t look like success on the outside, is moving you closer to your ultimate goal. sometimes things fall apart so something better can come together. in the void, you can see this clearly, because it’s the place where your higher self is always in control, always guiding you toward your best possible life.

6. failure is just part of the illusion of separation

at its core, the idea of failure is rooted in the illusion of separation—that we are separate from our goals, separate from success, separate from the divine. but in truth, there is no separation. we are already one with everything we desire. the belief in failure comes from the false notion that we’re lacking something, that we’re not enough or that we’re disconnected from our power.

but the void state reminds us that we are already whole, already complete. we are god, we are pure consciousness, and we are the creators of our reality. failure doesn’t exist in a world where you understand that everything is connected, that you are already everything you seek.

embrace your power

the next time you feel like you’ve failed, remember this: failure doesn’t exist. it’s a label we’ve been taught to fear, but it’s not real. in the grand scheme of your infinite existence, there are only experiences—some of them are stepping stones to success, and some are lessons that help you grow. but they’re all part of your journey, and none of them diminish your power.

when you tap into the void state, when you realize that you are pure consciousness and the creator of your life, failure becomes irrelevant. you are always in control, always manifesting, always creating. setbacks are temporary, but your power is eternal.

so, let go of the illusion of failure, you are god, and in your world, failure does not exist. inducing pure consciousness/the void state is literally impossible to fail. failure simply does not exist.

♡︎limitations

as a god you are limitless. no matter what anybody tells you, you are limitless that will never change because that is just the truth. you will and can never stop being god. you are not just some random human who came across loa/manifesting some random friday afternoon. you are limitless. you are pure consciousness, you are the creator you determine what is real and what is to happen.

no dream is too big no desire is too out far out of reach, you are god so might as well just start acting like it lol.

[lockefanfic]

Alarming

The following is 3.2k words of pure unedited filth that could be a part of the Business Trip storyline but could just be the product of an hour of BFH-inspired viewings of Momo’s most recent Strategy fancam but anyway here we go I put some words together I am writer I can write I swear -

---

You had a bit of a love-hate relationship with the iPhone’s alarm jingle. More often than not it was a source of frustration or anger, given its tendency to rip you unwillingly from the warm, comfortable embrace of sleep. It was too often a herald of reality, a reminder of adult responsibilities like spending the next eight hours exchanging your time for the money necessary to afford a cell phone alarm in the first place.

But these days you weren’t so upset at the familiar jingle and the way it interrupted your gaming session. How could you be, knowing what this particular alarm was for?

You quit your game mid-session, not even bothering to leave the match, leaving your virtual special operative frozen on its digital battlefield, an easy kill for some sweaty thirteen year old. Even before the console has fully powered down, you’re already on your way up the stairs to the bedroom.

Hirai Momo is waiting for you on your bed, wearing a silk robe that reached the top of her thighs and no further, leaving those long, toned legs of hers bare. She is on her phone, no doubt having just silence the same alarm notification as the one that brought you to her presence. With a wry smile she makes a few taps on her screen, likely placing her phone on Do Not Disturb. 

“Come here, then,” she says, casually, as though she weren’t inviting you into your bed dressed the way she was.

“I plan to,” you answer, earning a giggle from your wife as you rid yourself of your t-shirt and join her on the bed, crawling atop her.

She smiles into your kiss.  It is soft and intimate. Her lips are sweet and sticky and taste vaguely of the strawberry lip balm she loved so much. When the kiss finally ends the two of you stay there for a moment, faces inches apart. She smiles, and you do, and there is nothing there but love.

You kiss her again, this time more passionately. This time your tongues find each other, duelling between lips and teeth. Your arms wrap around your neck and she spreads her legs to allow you between them, your body pressing against hers and it all feels so soft and comfortable and safe. It feels like home.

You’re the one to break the kiss this time, and this time there’s no intimate, romantic eye contact. You dive instead into her neck, your lips and mouth finding all the soft, warm spots there that you knew she loved. She sighs softly, her cheek pressed against the side of your ear so the sound that leaves her lips heads straight into your ear. Wordless, breathless, hopefully the first of many.

You kiss a path down her neck, to those collarbones of hers, to the little dip between them that she’s told you the anatomical name of multiple times because you keep forgetting. Because honestly you didn’t care what some 14th century physicist decided to call it. You knew only that it was a part of Hirai Momo, love of your life, and that was it, that was enough. 

The silk of her robe stops you from going any further - a flimsy barrier but one nonetheless. You feel her hands lift your head from her upper chest until you are hovering above her, eyes finding and locking with their counterparts. There it is again, that perfect, intense intimacy; an intimacy you’d built over years of dating and a couple of years of marriage, the kind that allows you both the ability to communicate without words. She cradles your head in her hands and she smiles warmly and as corny as it might be there just aren’t any other words to describe it - your heart melts.

Her hands leave your cheeks, and without breaking your gaze she undoes the flimsy knot that keeps her robe together, pulling the folds apart to reveal her body to you.

You remember the first time you saw Hirai Momo naked, all those years ago. You hold that memory pretty close, honestly, because it was one of those moments in your life that you weren’t sure could ever be topped. She was a one night stand, then, the result of one too many glasses of old, expensive grape juice at a bar. That night you seared the sight of her in your mind because that was all she was, all you thought she would be.

Little did you know that she would be who she was, all these years later. You see her practically naked now beneath you and your reaction now is the same as it was back then - sheer, utter, awe.

She is perfect, as she was back then - all curves and valleys and muscle. She’s round breasts with tight nipples and she’s a flat, toned stomach and she’s long, perfect legs that go on forever and feel perfect wrapped around your head or your waist.

She’s as beautiful now as she was then. Even more so, honestly, because of what she is. Not some half-drunk, ill-advised one night stand with a co-worker, no, she is so much more than that. She is your wife, yes, but she is your soulmate, something you weren’t entirely convinced existed outside of fairy tales and silly romance stories written by amateur authors on the internet.

The smile on her lips turns into a giggle. “Stop staring,” she says, “and start fucking.”

It was just like her, just like Momo to turn an intimate moment into something a little less serious and a little more lewd. It was a defense mechanism of hers, you’d come to learn. She wasn’t the most open person with her feelings sometimes, not because she didn’t possess said feelings, but because she wasn’t quite sure how to articulate them. And so she often diffused those situations with humor.

You share a smile, but it softens quickly and becomes something else altogether. The humor becomes passion again. 

You dive into her body, first into those wonderful breasts of hers, so round and full and perfect. You take a rosy nipple into your mouth and Momo gasps in response, her back arching off the mattress, taken aback by the feel of your lips and tongue on her when she was expecting you to take the more circuitous route around her chest. Your other hand finds her other breast, not wanting to leave it idle, and soon her gasps turn into soft moans that fill the bedroom.

You take your time on her chest, knowing how good it made her feel, to say nothing of your own desires and needs. She had a body to die for but her chest was something special, and you had no trouble at all lavishing her round mounds and taut nipples with all the attention you both needed.

She’s a squirming, writhing thing now, her legs grinding against your crotch, searching for friction, for relief. Her thighs press against your hips and even while your mouth is latched firmly around a stiff nipple she grabs one of your hands by the wrist and brings it between her legs.

She’s wet and ready and dripping and you never, ever tired of the feel of her on your fingertips, so slick, so hot. You drag a fingertip from her base to her clit and she shudders at the feel of you.

“Fuck,” she gasps, the first full word she’s able to manage in a very long time. 

It turns into a longer, drawn out version of the same word moments later when your fingers slide inside her, only a single knuckle deep, two fingers wide. Stretching her, opening her, feeling her wet readiness on your digits. Your fingers continue the same languid pattern, starting at her base and sliding up her slit to her clit, circling the tender bud with your fingertips.

She moans, the sound soft and musical and causing your lips to curl into a smile around her breast. You release the tender bud from between your lips and look up at her, that same smile smug on your face.

“You like that, baby?” you ask - the most rhetorical of questions.

Her eyes, half-lidded in pleasure, tell you what her answer is. She backs up said answer by grasping your head again and crushing your lips with hers. If the first kiss was intimate and the second passionate the third is needy. She tells you with her lips what she cannot articulate with words. 

She breaks the kiss, and your heads hover inches apart, eyes locked on each other as your fingers play with the increasingly drenched flesh between her legs. She whimpers and sighs and moans and you watch all of it, watch every quiver of pleasure as it courses through her cheeks and lips. Her eyes shut and flutter open and remain half-lidded and sometimes her brow furrows as though she’s in pain or deep concentration but you know it’s neither, it’s pleasure, it’s wonderful and it’s taking over her body.

Her hand finds your forearm, her nails dig into your arm and it’s almost painful. 

“Gonna cum,” she gasps, eyes shut. “Gonna cum.”

“Do it, Momo. Cum for me,” you urge. You find her lips, give her a soft kiss, inhale the moans leaving her lips. Her hips buck, her thighs quiver around your hand. Your fingertips, incessant and merciless, continue to circle her clit, their pace neither increasing or decreasing but staying steady, just the way she liked.

When she cums it is a sight. Her back arches and her mouth opens in a scream that never comes, frozen open. Her nails dig into the skin of your forearm and the sharp pricks of pain are nothing compared to the pleasure you find in helping Momo find her own. You watch, enraptured, as her orgasm courses through her body. She’s quivering and sweaty and dishevelled. You never tired of it. Never would.

When she comes down from it her cheeks are flushed and her hair, her newly cut, blonde waves, cling to the side of her face by matted sweat at her temples.

“Fuck,” she gasps between her teeth. “Fuck.”

You smile. Her hand releases the deathgrip it had on your wrist and your fingers leave her aching clit. She brings your glistening fingertips to the space between your faces and she licks her slick juices from them.

“Fuck me,” she says, inbetween darts of her pink tongue that gather up the wetness on your fingers. “Cum inside me.”

“I will, Momo.”

She gives your fingers one last lick, releases your hand. The intensity in her eyes is clear.

“Breed me.”

What you would have given to see the reaction of your younger self if you’d told that poor schmuck that one day his one night stand would become his wife, would perhaps become the mother of his children. But here you are, and here she is, and you’re married and about to start a family.

You press yourself between her warm, spread thighs and bring your tip to her entrance. You slide your head up and down her slick lips and the contact rips wordless sighs from you both, sighs that turn into deep, primal moans when you finally slide inside her.

She’s wet and hot and tight and every possible adjective in the English language could not fully describe how it felt to be inside Hirai Momo. It felt amazing, better than any other physical sensation you’d ever known. Her legs close around your hips and her arms wrap themselves around your neck and you’re one being. You kiss her, deeply. Your lips leave hers and your faces hover inches apart as you begin to slide and out of her slick, hot cunt.

It’s soft and slow and passionate this time. You both loved the hard, rough sex - Momo herself had been ever keen on adding a hand wrapped tightly around her throat or handcuffs binding her wrists to the headboard - but now was not one of those times. Tonight was about more than that, and the conversation your bodies were having with each other made it clear what this night was really about.

She sighs and moans, wordless, breathless sounds directly into your ear. She loved her dirty talk, but much of it was absent tonight. Often sex in your bedroom was punctuated with filth or demands or name calling.

Tonight there are asks. Requests. Pleas.

“Fuck me, please,” she gasps. “Fuck me, give it to me.”

“I will, Momo. I will.”

“I’ve… I’ve been a good girl, right? I have. I want it. I want your cum. I need it.”

“What do you need, Momo?” you ask, another question that needed no answer. “Tell me what you need.”

“I want, I need,” she says, which were full, adequate sentences in and of themselves - but you knew what you wanted to hear. What you needed to hear.

“What do you need, Momo," you repeat, insistent. "Tell me. I need to hear it, need to hear you say it.”

“I need you to breed me,” she spits, breathless, desperate now, needy. “I want you to cum inside me, fill me up with cum-”

“Fuck, Momo-”

“-breed me, make me a mommy, leave a baby in my tummy baby, baby please-”

“Fuck,” you gasp, tearing your ear from her lips, as though you were afraid if she went on, babbling in your ear, that you’d cum too soon. But you wanted this to last, wanted to draw it out even longer than your usual sessions. You plant your palms on either side of her head and raise your upper body from hers. Throughout it all you are pumping between her spread legs, the silken, slick embrace of her cunt tight around your cock.

Detached somewhat from her, you watch with lewd fascination as her body is rocked by each thrust into her cunt. Her breasts - perfect, round mounds - bounce hypnotically, flesh soft and creamy, taut nipples still glistening with your saliva. Her abs clench and tighten, her thighs flex and work. Your gaze wanders further down, to the spread lips of her pussy, tight and wet and slick. Your cock glistens in the split seconds it spends outside of her body, catching the low light of the bedroom before it is inside her again.

When your eyes return to hers there is an intensity in them that takes you aback. Those were eyes you’d seen often twisten in pleasure, slave to her body’s whims, but now they are serious, intentional, even as they are occasionally shut or half-lidded by a sudden spike of pleasure. But they always open again, always find your gaze and hold it.

“Harder,” she says, the word half-moan and half-gasp. “Please. Fuck me harder.”

Your body moves of its own accord. Your hands, planted on either side of her head, leave the mattress. Sitting on your heels for a moment, you pull her body back towards you, embedding yourself inside her to the hilt and drawing a gasp from her lips. Then your hands find her knees, snaking beneath them and pushing her legs back against her body, folding her almost in half atop the bed.

You lean over her. She is bent in half and with her legs against her arms, knees almost touching her shoulders, she is helpless, unable to do much more than simply take your cock.

You fuck her. hard and merciless, your cock drilling into her body to the deepest parts of her. 

“Oh god,” she swears, “oh god, you’re so fucking deep, oh fuck, oh god!”

“Fucking take it, Momo,” you spit between gritted teeth. “Fucking take my cock, take my cum.”

“Yes!” she exclaims, the word leaving her mouth like some natural reaction, some primal response from somewhere in the deepest, darkest parts of her. “Fucking cum inside me, please, cum inside me and give me a baby, breed me, get me pregnant-”

“Jesus,” you hiss, your turn to swear. “God, Momo, you’re so-”

“Fuck, please, breed me, breed me, cum inside me-”

You groan then, something dark and guttural leaving your throat in reaction to the pleas of the needy young woman beneath you. Her cunt flutters and pulsates and every movement either of you make drives you crazy, chases sanity from your mind and replaces it with something altogether scary, something that makes you slave to its whims and desires - the desire to leave a part of you inside this woman, to make her yours in the most primal way possible.

“Momo, I-”

“Inside me, please, please, breed me please-”

“Gonna cum-”

“Give me a baby, breed me please-”

The sight, the feel, the sound - the connection - it’s all too much, and you bury yourself as deep as you can inside Hirai Momo’s quivering, trembling body and let go. Your cock pulsates and spills warm, hot cum inside her, filling her up, leaving her cunt slick and messy, making her yours.

You stay there, frozen, her body still folded in half, feet helpless in the air. Your foreheads touch, the contact somehow grounding the both of you, bringing you both back to Earth, back home. She is still a mess around you, the pleasure still coursing through her body. Your bodies work hard to feed starved lungs. Your sweat drips from your forehead onto hers, another mark of your bond.

You open eyes you hadn’t known you’d closed. And there she is, eyes already finding yours. The softest, most intimate of smiles finds its way onto her lips. You kiss her softly, your lips playing tenderly with each other as you slowly release her legs from her chest. She wraps them around your waist as you settle atop her, your half-hard cock still embedded inside her creamy, messy cunt.

When your kiss breaks you look at each other again, and when she smiles it’s a little softer now, a little less intense. 

“Wow,” she says, softly, thereby winning the award for the most understated reaction that night. It brings a smile to your face and it becomes a soft giggle that she returns. 

You slowly ease yourself from her body, both of you wincing at the loss of the most intimate of connections. You fall on the bed beside her and she cuddles up to your side, but not before finally ridding herself of her silk robe, now sweaty and messy and in need of a turn in the laundry machine.

You bring her close, and she nuzzles into your neck as your arms wrap around her. You feel her lips curl into a contented, soft smile to mirror the one on your own.

“I hope they’re all like that,” you say, softly, earning a soft murmur of approval from Momo.

“Me too. Doc says we should try every day for the next couple of nights, so…”

“Well if it’s doctor’s orders, I suppose we don’t really have much of a choice.”

Momo raises her head from your neck. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are tired but there is love there. There is love everywhere.

“Mmhmm,” she agrees. “I think we can find a way to make it happen, I suppose. So same time tomorrow?”

“The alarm’s already set.”

You smile. You bring her close. You tell her you love her. She does the same.

----

Author’s Note: This is completely unedited filth that you shouldn’t use as a measure of my writing skill because it’s trash but BFH! BFH! BFH!

Momo too hot.

[wriokitty]

"Is it true, my lord?" you murmur softly against his chest. It's quiet, and you're bare, the both of you. The words are forced out like they're glued to your lips, so you pry them off, ripping off the skin in the process and leaving you bleeding.

Ayato is clever. Cunningly so, you think. Something about the way his lips quirk makes you think he's well aware of what you mean. Something about the way he raises his brows makes you know he's not going to make this easy for you.

"Is what true?" he asks smoothly. Too smooth. It's like he's been waiting for this question. He glances down at you as you fight the urge to hide against his sternum.

"There is word, my lord," you say carefully. "I'm certain you are better acquainted with the rumors than myself."

"Word of what, exactly? There are many rumors across Inazuma, you know."

Ayato is also infuriating. He always has been.

You think it's the way he's so easy to disappear. He's there one second, like pelting rain. Cold. Unbearably difficult to ignore. Lingering on your skin as it rises with goosebumps and brings a shiver down your spine. And then he's gone. The harsh droplets blended with the current and carried away downstream, slipping through the cracks of your fingers like he was never meant to fit between them in the first place.

Ayato was never meant to fit against you in the first place. He does an impeccably cruel job of making you believe it's possible that he could, sometimes, though. You wonder if that's the irony of his vision—what justice is there to how he rips your heart from your chest, inspecting it closely in awe for just a moment before tossing it to your feet in indifference?

Surely, the god of Hydro does not recognize such sadism, let alone reward it. Surely, there is some form of injustice to how he toys with your feelings.

Patience is your strong suit. It has to be when loving Ayato—it has to be especially when you love him from his shadow. He faces the sun, just as any head of a clan should. You linger in the space behind, devoid of light—and, for a moment, you wonder if that's why he likes to keep you around.

Everyone who faces the light needs a shadow.

"If you wish to be coy," you say bitterly, "then allow me to be plain. There is word that the Kamisato clan seeks the betrothal of their head. Forgive me for seeking confirmation directly from the source himself."

"Ah," he drawls, so sickeningly sweet in that voice of his. You love him. You always have. You have never hated that truth more. "Yes, it is. It seems the elders believe I will be well past my prime should I wait any longer."

"And what do you believe, my lord?"

"That it is my duty to fulfill the wishes of my elders."

Your heart sinks. You already knew it would—made room for it so it wouldn't destroy any more of yourself in its path, even. You expected it to hit that place at the bottom of your guts that makes you feel nauseous and numb all at once. It was only a matter of time, of course—you're not naive enough to believe he could be yours like this forever.

You always liked to daydream, though. A day where Ayato and you faced the sun together, no longer hidden in the shadow of the moon under his sheets. No longer quiet in your affairs like they're disgustingly wrong. Maybe you are naive, though—maybe such a daydream is only proof your mind is painfully self-indulgent to the point of doom.

"Do you eye someone in particular?" you force yourself to ask. You're not sure why. Maybe masochism makes it easy to breathe when it's your heart that's bleeding and not your lungs.

"I do," he confirms. Cruel, you think—so cruel is the Yashiro Commissioner to keep you close, fighting against space itself to have your body close by night and give into its wickedness during the day. And so wicked, heartless, and brutal is space—you hate it more and more every day.

"You should not bed someone when dreaming of being betrothed, Ayato," you bite. The words are laced with venom, tasting acrid on your tongue as they flow past your bleeding lips.

"On the contrary, my dear," he hums, pulling you tighter, closer. Fighting against space just as he always does—winning so easily, you wonder if space has ever tried in the first place. "Who else should I bed if not my betrothed?"

You blanch. Something stirs in your heart—you force it down and scold yourself for having the audacity to hope. Hope is not for you. Not for someone so plain. So mundane. So outside the realm of nobility.

You swallow thickly and croak, "You should be kinder, Ayato. Such cold games are hardly befitting of a husband."

"Is that so? Then I will do my best," he murmurs. His lips find yours, pressing a delicate enough kiss against them that it feels as though the rough, raw skin mends instantly. "Rest assured your husband shall be as kind as you need, my dear."

Your eyes widen. Something in you nags in a breathlessly hopeful voice—divinity is never wrong. The god of Hydro is not mistaken. Justice is the love that seeps into your broken heart from the man who tore it in the first place, patching it together better than it ever was to begin with.

[slttygeto]

Oh no, it's Ghostface! HANMA S.

Synopsis: When you ask your boyfriend what he wants for his birthday, he tells you that it's a secret. How is it his birthday but you're the one getting surprised? You don't question his intentions and proceed with your day at work. Little did you know the kind of tricks Hanma had up his sleeve.

word count: 3,7k

pairing: hanma x fem! reader

content warning: dark content, slightly cnc (read at your own risk), slight breath play, gvn k!nk, fear play, rough oral sex (m! receiving), lots of drool, a bit of mindbreak?

The sound of heels clicking on the floor fills the hallway as you approach your apartment door. It had been a long, exhausting day, yet a smile still manages to find its way onto your face as you remember the date. October has never been your favorite month, you can’t exactly pinpoint the reason why but you’re always filled with sadness as the colder season approaches. 

Probably seasonal depression, who knows?

Inserting the key, you push the door open nothing but darkness greets you. It’s rare for the apartment to be engulfed in such suffocating gloom, especially knowing that your boyfriend preferred a dimly lit space. Still, you brush it off, proceeding to remove your knee high boots and place them on the shoe rack.

“Shuji?” you call out for your boyfriend, eyes trying to make out any details but it’s difficult. So you reach for the switch and flip it. Still nothing.

Did the power go out? 

It’s a pretty expensive apartment complex, you highly doubt that the power goes out and Hanma does nothing about it. So you try again, and again and–still nothing but darkness. 

“Shuuu,” you drag the first syllable of his name on your tongue, grabbing your phone to turn on the flashlight. Since it was his birthday, you had half expected him to stay home, but then again he was Kisaki’s right hand and it wasn’t rare for him to receive phone calls from the shorter man asking him to take care of something for him.

However, your body feels a little tense. Your shared apartment with your boyfriend was rather spacious, and there were many spots you disliked walking by during the night because of how hidden they were. You proceed down the hallway with your phone’s flashlight illuminating the path in front of you, sighing deeply when you notice that all of the rooms’ doors were closed and none of the curtains had been opened all day. 

You’re about to point your flashlight towards your bedroom door when you hear something to your left and freeze.

No way. There was no way for it to be Hanma. His shoes were gone, so were his car keys–but this area had a lot of security and no one would be able to walk in unless they had special access to the main lobby. There were no signs of forced entry and every single window was closed–your brain is running a thousand miles a second, and you’re too busy trying to make sense of the noise that you had just heard to react fast. Before you could point your flashlight properly towards that one corner, you swipe your thumb across your screen and click on ‘contacts’.

Suddenly, you’re pinned to the wall with such force that it knocks the wind out of your chest and a gloved hand covers your mouth in an attempt to muffle the scream that rips out of you. You’re dizzy–you’re breathing fast and trying to make sense of what’s happening around you. With teary eyes, you look up and your heart drops in your stomach. A shiny, terrifying ghostface mask is right in front of you and whoever’s wearing it is breathing hard. They notice your trembling lip, the tears coating your lash line and tilt their head to the side. 

Trembling, you think they haven’t noticed the phone in your hand despite the flashlight being the only source of light. Your thumb messily swipes across the screen and finds Shuji’s contact at the top of the list. Press call. 

The sound of a familiar ring tone fills the apartment, your eyebrows furrow in both confusion and fear. Was he here? Maybe he was hurt and needed your help and–

But the longer the phone rang, the deeper it sank that the sound was way close to you. Way too close. 

Your breath hitches as you watch the tall masked man reach into his left pocket. A gloved hand grabs the familiar phone and your name appears on the screen. Before picking up the phone, he pushes your hand up until you’re forced to press the device to your ear and you watch as he mirrors your actions.

“So, you got a boyfriend?” The unmistakable, chilling voice sends shivers down your spine. You recognize the unsettling calmness to it and all your body can do is melt against the wall as your knees buckle. But the tall man isn’t having any of it, and he pins you even harder against the wall. His gloved hand goes from your mouth down to your neck, and the grip is all too familiar that you can’t help but let out a strangled moan. 

Despite the fear gripping your bones, you part your quivering lips to reply.

“Why… Do you want to ask me out on a date?” Your voice comes out small and unsteady, and you sniffle, desperately blinking back tears. A low chuckle escapes the man’s lips as he feels your harsh swallow beneath the grip of his hand.

“Maybe… Do you have a boyfriend?” 

Before you could even manage a reply, you feel him push his knee between your thighs and a loud gasp escapes your lips. “I–”

“Do you?” The emphasis in his voice combined with his knee rubbing against your clothed pussy leaves you breathless. You can’t give a proper reply, not with your head tipped back in pleasure and your hips bucking up when he grazes your aching clit. Sensing that you were enjoying yourself, your boyfriend pulls away his knee and you’re immediately whining at the loss. 

“Shuji–” you can’t see his face or what kind of expression is behind the mask, but you would hope that your desperation moves something in him. However, you forget that your boyfriend is a ruthless criminal, someone with years of expertise in physical and psychological torture. And he makes sure to put it to good use. 

A pained moan escapes you when you’re being roughly pushed off the wall, only for your chest and cheek to get pinned to the cold, hard surface. Your phone falls to the ground and Hanma grabs both of your wrists, pinning them behind your back. You feel powerless as he pushes up the brown leather skirt you were wearing, hissing when he sees that you were wearing the smallest pair of underwear beneath. 

“Did ya prepare for this, doll? Knew I was gonna fuck ya senseless the moment you walked in–” he momentarily breaks character, forgetting the role he’s supposed to be playing and you feel your heart and pussy swell. Being able to distract a man like Hanma was something you took pride in. You instinctively push back against him, brushing your ass against his crotch and hear yet another loud hiss from the man.

“Fucking slut.” The plastic part of the mask feels chilling and unsettlingly hard against your ear as filth spews out of his mouth. Muffled and low, the sound of his voice alone is enough to have your mind reeling at all the things he will say.

“Answer me.” You don’t expect something hard to press against your clothed pussy so soon, your jaw drops at the cold feeling as you struggle to get away from it.

“Shuji!” you cry out for the man, but to no avail.

“Shuji,” he says in a mocking tone, pressing the item harder against your pussy as he grabs your wrists in place. “How fucking pathetic, you’ve already gone dumb just from something rubbing against your pussy?” His voice drips with dark amusement. Hanma knows how to have fun with you, sex with him is never boring simply because the way that his brain works was fascinating–but you had always wondered if you could get a glimpse of a darker side of him. 

However, up until today, he always rejected the idea. Primarily due to the fact that you were his girlfriend, someone whom he cherished with all of his cold and sheltered heart and a person whom he liked to keep away from his business. To the world, he is Hanma–a ruthless killer with a criminal background that could paralyze anyone with fear but to you, he was Shuji. Your sweet, loving boyfriend. 

Your loving boyfriend who always fucked you when he came back from a mission with blood painting his face, your sweet and doting boyfriend who let you ride his face because you found him so hot when there were a few cuts and bruises there. You suggest that he integrates his dangerous side during sex and he refuses, but the idea lingers at the forefront of his mind the longer he remembers the pout sitting on your lips and how eager you seemed with everything. 

So, the first step was to buy a ghostface mask. 

And the second was to fuck you while he wears it. 

“Yes,” you answer, barely catching your breath. “I-I prepared.”

“Oh yeah?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “You wanted me to fuck you?”

“It’s y-your birthday,” your breath hitches when the cold material presses harder against your clit, and Hanma watches as you subconsciously move back and forth against it with a wide grin. 

“Fucking hell, look at you. Do you know what you’re fucking yourself on, slut?”

You whimper, a sign of confusion and Hanma offers an amused chuckle before pressing the mask against your ear.

“My gun.” 

He sees your eyes widening and laughs loudly when you don’t pull away or flinch. Instead, you move your hips back and forth–slow and sloppy, face burning with shame. This had been a fantasy of yours–you’re starting to believe that Hanma has wanted to do this just as much as you did. 

“Didn’t know you wanted it this bad,” he’s obviously caught off guard by how needy you are, but it doesn’t stop him from pressing harder and nudging your clit in ways that have your eyes roll to the back of your head. He watches as shame leaves your body and it’s replaced by pure lust as you chase your high. You’re panting, eyes screwed shut and lips parted to let out the sweetest moans. 

“Yeah just like that–” you can feel his hard on pressing against your backside, but you’re far too distracted to care. “Use my gun to get off. Good girl–my pretty slut.” 

Pleasure courses through your veins like hot lava, it blinds you momentarily and shuts down your brain as you desperately chase your orgasm. You’re certain that the sentences you were blabbering made no sense, you could hear Hanma speaking to you and could make out that he was mocking you by saying “Oh yeah?” “Oh baby, poor you.” but none of it mattered when you were so close to your release. Your thighs tremble, your voice a pitch higher and there’s drool dripping down the side of your mouth. The knot in your stomach feels hot and tightens with each desperate grind against the gun. You’re about to cum, you’re so fucking close–

A pained cry leaves your lips when Hanma pulls the gun away, heartless and cold. 

“Why?! Why–” you sob before flinching when he lets go of your wrists to spank you harshly.

“Are you fucking questioning me?” He grips your hair harshly, pulling your head back and craning your neck at an uncomfortable angle. “You don’t fucking deserve to cum.”

“But–but Shuji–” still gripping your hair, Hanma pushes you down until you’re on your knees and you instinctively turn around until you’re eye level with his crotch. Eager and blinded with lust, your hands reach for his belt and start to unbuckle it but Hanma grips your hair tighter and you gasp at the pain.

“Didn’t say you could touch it yet, did I?” Now that you were on your knees for him, Hanma could confidently say that this was the hottest sight ever. Your makeup was smudged, mascara running down your cheeks and your eyes were blown out with lust. He should’ve done it sooner. 

“Please,” you lean forward, chin resting on his hard on and your hands rest on his ass. “Please,” you drag your nose against the fabric of his pants, before pressing a gentle kiss to his clothed dick. “I can make you feel good, Mr. Ghostface.”

Hanma lets out a muffled “fuck,” before pushing your face against his dick and you take it as a sign to get to work. You make quick work of his belt and pants before pulling down his boxers and watch as his cock springs free. You don’t waste a single second before wrapping your hand around the shaft, gripping it enough to have the man’s breath hitching. His cock was a work of art, and you always found yourself enjoying oral sex with Hanma mainly because you enjoyed having his cock in your mouth. So you kiss the balls, dragging your tongue along the shaft and don’t give the man a warning before letting your mouth engulf the tip. It’s a small move, but it makes the masked man grip your hair tightly and the silence is now replaced by the much anticipated dirty talk. 

“Fuck, do I love when you use your mouth like that,” he sounds so fucked out, drowning in pleasure that you can’t help but let out a moan yourself. The vibrations send shivers down Shuji’s spine and he is quick to remind you to take the whole thing.

“Suck.” Within a few moments, there is spit and drool everywhere. Your hand strokes the parts you can’t reach, and you pull away to spit on the tip whenever you can before bobbing your head up and down on his cock. Hanma, however, is still not satisfied. 

“You’re gonna take the whole thing.” Your eyes widen at his statement, and you pull away to complain. 

“But Shuji–” your heart stops when you feel something cold press against your forehead. 

“Come on, doll.” You look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and through teary lashes. “Don’t look away.” 

Your hands tremble as they settle on his thighs for support and you’re glad he doesn’t ask you to put them behind your back. Inhaling deeply, you look up at the man as you start to swallow his dick–inch after inch, the deeper he goes, the harder it is to keep your eyes open or stop yourself from gagging. And when you do and try to pull away, Hanma pushes the gun against your forehead. Finally, you manage to fit all of him down your throat and you’re proud to hear the muffled groan that leaves Hanma’s lips. You could’ve sworn that you saw his knees buckle as well, but you can’t afford to focus on anything else with his cock down your throat.

“Good fucking girl, oh fuuuuck,” he lets out a laugh when you pull away to breathe, coughing and trying to catch your breath before grabbing his cock again. “Oh yeah, someone’s desp–fuck, desperate.” you hum in response, taking him down your throat before repeating the same movement over and over again. Until Hanma’s hips buck into your face and he presses your nose against his pubic hair. You cough and gag, drool spilling down your jaw. You’re smacking his thigh, reminding him that you needed air but to no avail. He watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head and you swear dark dots are starting to form. You were going to pass out, you can’t breathe–

It’s not until your fingers aren’t digging into the skin of his thighs that Hanma lets go of you. He watches as you fall to the ground, a hand to your chest as you try to catch your breath and messily wipe the drool on your chin. 

“Up.” He speaks, and your body responds to his command as if it were second nature. You feel dizzy, and the longer Shuji wears the mask, the more difficult it is to remember who’s behind the mask. A gloved hand grabs your jaw, pulling you close until the lips of the mask are brushing against your own. 

“Tell me,” he says lowly, his other hand traveling down to grab your ass. “How much do you want me to fuck you?” 

“So-so much,” you admit, broken. You can no longer think straight or try to mask the lust. Your body craves Hanma like the moon needs the stars, you’ve never been teased like this–so heartlessly, without being able to look into his golden eyes for comfort and a way to ground yourself. There was no reminder that it was your boyfriend, the one who gives you the softest smiles and whose eyes meet yours when you’re about to cum. Behind this mask was a different man, and you were starting to lose your grip on reality. 

The gloved hand goes from your jaw to your cheek, and you let out a small noise when you feel him wiping something. 

Tears. 

Hanma is well aware of his sick and twisted desires, but watching you cry is on another level. It makes his cock twitch and his heart beats loudly against his ribcage.

“Beg me.” 

“Please.” You ask, desperately. 

“Again.” 

“Please fuck me–please, Shuj–please.” You start to blabber, lips quivering and fat tears streaming down your face. Hanma finally breaks. 

You’re caught off guard as he throws you over his shoulder, letting out a startled squeak when he forcefully pushes the door open to your shared bedroom. He doesn’t give you time to get used to your surroundings as throws you on the bed before grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you down to the edge of the bed. It’s still dark in the apartment, and Hanma doesn’t have enough time to turn the power back on, so he reaches for the curtains and pulls them open so that the only source of light was the street lamp outside. 

He approaches the bed again, hurried and impatient to fuck you stupid. Before he can reach for your panties, your hand goes to his ghostface mask and he doesn’t have it in him to stop you from taking it off of him. 

Finally, you can see his face. He was all sweaty, flushed cheeks and a few hair strands sticking to his forehead not to mention–his pupils were blown out with lust. This was your Shuji, your boyfriend–the ghostface mask was hot, but you preferred this side of your boyfriend. You waste no time to bring him closer to you, crashing your lips against his in a messy, tongues dancing and spit swapping kiss. It’s anything but romantic, your bodies consumed with an animalistic kind of lust for one another. Instead of taking off your panties, Hanma rips them off of your body and muffles your complaining noises with his lips once again.

“I’ll buy you new ones.” Is all he says before pushing your knees open. Your pussy is glistening with arousal, all puffy and swollen from not being touched enough and Hanma leans down to spit on it and give your clit a wet kiss.

“Fuck–” your close your eyes at the feeling, suddenly growing aware of all of the layers on your body that needed to come off. But you didn’t have time for that, and neither did Hanma. So, he pushes up your turtleneck shirt and watches as your boobs spill out. Holding the fabric, your boyfriend proceeds to push your knees to your chest line up the tip of his cock with your entrance.

He lets himself in, slowly and taking in the way your jaw goes slack and how your eyes roll to the back of your head. You had been craving this, you were practically begging for his cock and watching you unravel just from him pressing inside made it nearly impossible for Hanma to hold back.

“Come here,” he leans down to kiss your lips, sloppy and wet as he starts to move his hips. His cock slides in and out of your tight pussy, leaving creamy rings at the base that has Hanma cursing under his breath. Meanwhile, your head is thrown back and you don’t seem to notice or feel anything but the way that his cock felt against your warm walls. 

“Thought of giving me the best birthday gift–fuck, you are my birthday gift,” the tall man starts to blabber, clearly lost in the pleasure and in the feeling of your tight pussy. “This pussy is the best gift I could’ve asked for–” he bites down on your bottom lip, finally getting you to whine in response. Your hands grip his shoulders when he starts to pick up his pace, eyes widening when his tip starts to press against that one spot.

“Yes right there–oh fuck, right there!”

“I got you.” your legs are thrown over his shoulder and a hand wraps around your neck as he maintains his pace, hips remaining in the same angle that has you seeing stars. It’s not until you’re cumming around his cock, crying and shaking, that Hanma can finally lose himself and fuck you hard. He fucks you until you’re crying for him to slow down, watching as the creamy ring that forms at the base is smeared all over his pubic hair and your hand is pushing at his stomach.

“I can’t–I can’t–”

“Take it,” he says through gritted teeth. “Fucking pussy is milking me dry–holy shit.” he curses as he buries his face in your neck, feeling you squeeze around him as you orgasm again. The feeling of your tight pussy along with your nails digging into his back has the man shooting his cum inside after a couple of strokes.

You both lay there in silence for a couple of minutes, trying to catch your breath and party because Hanma knows you need this skin on skin moment. This wasn’t a moment where he could wipe you down, kiss you goodnight and go to sleep–he needed to be present.

“You okay, pretty girl?”

“Hold me,” hearing the desperation in your voice, Hanma lowers your legs and brings you closer to him. He kisses your cheeks, forehead and then your nose. There are tears in your eyes still, but the eye contact with him helps ground you. The love and warmth in them remind you that it’s him, your boyfriend and not Ghostface who had fucked your face senseless. 

“Happy birthday, Shu,” you say as you grab his face and the tall man can’t help but chuckle.

“Happy birthday to me.”

2024 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

[viridescentelf]

In your debt

Young druid Halsin x Reader

Ever since I saw the young Halsin art above by @ozumii-fucking-wizard, I have been obsessively staring at his gorgeous damn face (thank you so much for this version of him, I am hopelessly in looooooove)!

Enjoy young Halsin healing you~

Part 2

Warning: Blood, Violence, Swearing

-----

You ventured through the forest, wanting to escape the loud bustle of the city. Carrying your heavy instrument on your back, you strode through the man-made trail into the thicket, to your usual spot you decided was your permanent hideaway.

You knew the forest was home to a druidic group, who adopted young lost children. You never encountered any druids on your many trips here, but you knew they were aware of you: sometimes you found some foraged fruit and vegetables at your spot, packaged neatly with strings or in small sacks. Someone left you these gifts. You assumed they liked your music, since you often came into the woods to practice some new songs you were crafting. You weren’t sure if the children were this fond of you or if it was some druid who kept leaving trinkets. It didn’t matter really, you were grateful nonetheless.

Today, you hadn’t found anything left for you. This wasn’t too unusual; you never ventured here expecting to receive anything. You let the strand of your instrument slide down your arm, placing it next to your seat by the large oak. It was clear this spot wasn’t really used by others, the print of you sitting in the dirt only really matched yours. It always seemed undisturbed, like you left it, with the occasional gifted sack placed there.

You gazed at the lake, where fireflies danced happily over the dawn lit water. It was another pleasant morning and you took a deep breath, enjoying the lovely fresh air you rarely got to inhale. Baldur’s Gate was lively and exciting, but you were always drawn back to this place.

You started plucking the strands of your lute, absentmindedly, taking in the sunrise as the rays warmed your face. You felt the trees sway with your music, as if they were welcoming you back. The forest seemed more alive here and had a distinct personality. Childlike glee vibrated through the branches. The tranquility of this area made you sink back into the tree, leaning against its strong body.

Something boomed in the distance. You sat up with a jolt. Normally, the only sounds you heard here were twigs breaking or the wind whizzing through the glade. You looked around, trying to locate the source of the noise.

Another blast. This time, there was shouting that followed. Some sounded panicked, some aggressive.

You got to your feet, frantically, staring into the distance where you thought the brutal noises were ebbing from. There were screams now. And they sounded young.

Without really thinking, you started sprinting towards the cries. Clutching your lute in one hand at your side to keep it from knocking your hip, you darted through the brush. There were children screaming and wailing, getting louder and louder the faster you ran towards them. A loud, ugly voice was yelling at them.

There were other more distant shock waves bellowing: an ambush? Were the druids under attack?

You heard the angry voice thunder in front of you, as you slid behind a birch tree.

“Move it, you little shits! Or I’ll cut yer hands off!”, a goblin with a bloody handprint across his face snarled at a group of mixed children, who were huddled together, sniveling and trembling uncontrollably. He pointed a curved, dirty blade at their backs, as they sheepishly shuffled along.

“Can’t we just kill them and drag their corpses? They’re so fucking slow…” Another smaller goblin groaned, walking in front of the hostages.

“No, the drows say they need new slaves. We need ‘em alive,” he pushed a small tiefling in front of him, who let out a terrified shriek, “Faster! Before the stinkin’ druids catch up.”

They passed the birch tree, which was rooted opposite a cliffside. The rapids below reverberated up, making it hard to hear clearly.

Goblins were attacking the druids, the far sounds of crashing and clanging meant a fierce battle was commencing.

“They won’t be able to hold them back much longer, Izick,” the short goblin at the front was standing close to your hiding spot. You peered through the branches and saw the poor souls quivering wildly. Their faces were cut and stained with blood. You deduced whoever was watching over them had been murdered in front of them.

You weren’t a fighter. But you couldn’t let them take the children.

The small goblin turned to face the group; his back facing the tree. You grasped your lute hard, making the skin around it paler. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for guaranteed pain.

This was an expensive instrument, too.

You pounced out of the woods into the clearing and slammed the lute onto the head of the unassuming goblin. It broke over his fat head, but the velocity had done its job. He fell to the side with a loud thud, letting out a last, gurgled groan. You kept hitting him with the remaining pieces of your improvised weapon, making sure he was dead. The blood pooled around him.

Izick was already running towards you, having pummeled through the victims without care, who all fell to the ground and held their heads to the dirt, whimpering and horrified.

You dodged the first swing of his blade, but knew instantly this wasn’t a fight you could win. You had nothing to fight with, except your fists, and you dared not get close to him as she flourished his disgusting weapon.

The goblin roared as he jumped towards you. You collided and felt a scorching pain in your stomach. He had gotten you, deep in your belly. You screamed. You both fell to the ground near the edge of the cliff. The goblin tried to pull the blade back out while he sat on top of you, but it was stuck. Izick cursed at you, although no insult really reached your ears. Your entire body centered around the searing wound in your abdomen.

The children were petrified. You saw the tears roll down their faces as they watched the pathetic scuffle. If you failed, they would suffer endlessly. You couldn’t allow him to kill you, before you saved them.

He lifted his fists to pummel you. His face was etched with determination, he would beat you to death if he had to.

Your arm moved instinctively. You grabbed his collar, before his fists met your face, and leaned your entire body weight to the side, where the roaring river called to you. It was the only way.

You felt the wind whistle past your ears as you fell with the goblin in your grasp to the depths. You both crashed into the icy water and you felt him drift away, as the muffling water slowed everything. Your body was being pulled to the side, the current dragging you uncaringly down the river. It pulled you violently from one side to the other, not tiring of its new toy, pushing you up and down like a ball. Weightless, you floated and let it take control, unable to do anything else.

Your thoughts silenced. The cold of your surroundings embraced you and you had no strength to resist. The pulsating pain from the blade kept you awake, barely.

After a while, you felt yourself bob up, your head bracing the surface. The sudden blaring of the river crashed into your ears as you gasped for air. Your eyes blurred. The water seemed to settle into a lazy tempo. You didn’t know how, but you kept your head above water. You saw red puddles waft after you.

The current carried you to a small bank, discarding you there as it continued on. You lay on the muddy earth, motionless, staring at the piercing blue sky that seemed to beckon you towards it. The blade still stuck out of you, you saw it move up and down as you breathed shakily. You couldn’t keep your eyes open much longer.

Your heavy lids fell, darkening everything. The pain slowly left, too.

You were dying. And you were accepting it.

Before the complete darkness, you felt tiny hands pressing on your aching belly. That spot felt warm and kind, as the last of your wits evaded you.

Quiet. Emptiness. Nothing.

Halsin’s lips clasped yours, as he breathed into your mouth, holding your nose. The moss on your puncture was absorbing the excess blood. The vile blade lay discarded to the side, already carefully pulled from you.

You convulsed and coughed out, life filling your face first and then gradually seeping into your weak limbs.

You blinked hard and opened your weary eyes.

Halsin met your gaze and placed a hand on your cheek, as his other etched glyphs into the air.

“You’re going to be alright…”, he said softly, as a green mist appeared suddenly from his hand, which he lowered down to your injury.

“Breathe…”, he commanded gently. You obeyed and took a shaky breath. Your body felt heavy. Even breathing was difficult.

You felt his hand pressing on your abdomen. Whatever he was doing, the agony was quieting because of it slowly. You watched him as he attended to your mortal wound.

He was beautiful. A few braided pieces of his long, honey hair fell effortlessly next to his face. The jade eyes were focused, but there was an air of kindness about them. You squinted at the embroidery on his attire. This was one of the druids.  He looked young, but the elf ears suggested he might be older than he appeared.

You attempted to speak, but could only let out feeble coughs.

“Don’t speak. This will take a bit to close up”, he looked down at you and smiled kindly. You blinked as a response, taking another deep breath as you felt the pain flee your body.

There was a brief silence, the only sound was the hypnotic whirring of his enchantments.

“You did something truly courageous back there. The children told me. They recognized you, the singer in the woods…they often spoke about you at bedtime”, he chuckled briefly, “Didn’t expect I’d meet you under these circumstances.”

You watched him, as he seemed to reminisce fondly. So, it was the children who left you gifts at your spot?

His other hand swished and another cloud of green wafted out of it. He placed that hand next to the other on your stomach.

“I am in your debt. You saved the little ones, when they were not your burden. Truly, you’re a real hero.”  

You didn’t know how to respond. You were also more than confused as to how he found you so quickly. You felt like you had been drifting in that river forever. And the druids lived deep within the forest.

Who in the Hells was this elf anyway?

“You are exceedingly lucky. Thaniel found you and tended to you before I made it here.”

You raised an eyebrow, coughing again.

“Oh, haha. Thaniel is the forest spirit here. He seems quite fond of you.”

A forest spirit? Your exhausted brain couldn’t process that thought. You couldn’t really contest the idea either.

The druid lifted his hands briefly, checking how far along the healing process was. Deciding it needed more time, he repositioned his palms. You observed him for a while in silence as he concentrated on the regeneration of your tissue. He was huge. You felt like a child next to him.

“Wh-who are you…” you croaked out faintly.

He turned to you, his eyes softening with a calm smile.

“I’m Halsin,” he put one hand on your shoulder to keep you down, as you tried to sit up at the response. It didn’t take much strength to keep you there. He smiled more widely, then turned his attention back to his task.

Halsin. You had heard that name before. Whispered by folk in the area, he was famous for his incredible healing abilities and knack for getting captured. You only knew one druid by name and that was him. A druidic protégé, yes. A fierce warrior, yes. But a bit different. People in town talked about the impulsiveness of the young druid, which caused the other, older druids to scratch their heads in frustration at his unpredictability. And that‘s who was healing you right now?!

Gods, you never imagined he’d be this dreamy.

You were probably dreaming. No, you were dead. Definitely.

No being was this beautiful.

[felassan]

DA:TV spoilers under cut.

The Felassan Files (DA:TV-specific post)

Post will be updated if/when needed as I go.

More reference images of Felassan can be found at the bottom of this post.

Please let me know if you have found a codex entry or note etc that I have missed in this post.

DATAMINING AND GAME FILES

“GENERAL FELASSAN AGE RANGE: 40 CHARACTER DESCRIPTION: The second in command of a resistance army. You’ve an elf who’s fought against the tyranny of your gods, cruel despots who’ve enslaved your people. You’re practical, level-headed, and have good sense for what other people are feeling, which makes you well-suited for your role. Your leader is an elf called Solas, a powerful mage who isn’t quite the people person you are. You respect him, and are there to help him with whatever he needs - especially when he needs guidance about being the face of a resistance.”

“BETRAYAL OF FELASSAN CHARACTER DESCRIPTION: A powerful undead born from Solas’s regrets and betrayals (in this case, Solas’s murder of his friend Felassan by stabbing him in the back).”

[original source, original post]

(Betrayal of Felassan is an undead - a revenant - embodying one of Solas' greatest regrets, his murder of his friend.)

There are also some other interesting lines in the game files:

00118028,"The Felassan Rune's power grows as you complete activities within the Crossroads. Use its immense power to defeat Elgar'nan! At Rank 3 the White Revenant assists you with X" 00118029,"Felassan's Rune's power grows as you complete activities within the Crossroads. Use its immense power to defeat Elgar'nan! At Rank 2 the White Revenant assists you with X" 0011802A,"i[/i]" 0011802B,"i[/i]" 0011802C,"[TEMP] Title - Forest Island, Rev Path " 0011802D,"[TEMP] Title - Forest Island, Cathedral of Roots " 0011802E,"[TEMP] Title - Mountain Island, Village " 0011802F,"[TEMP] Title - City Island, Main " 00118030,"[TEMP] From Felassen: Relection on the launchpoint to Solas's network of eluvians. Upbeat, hope - but a hint of doubt of darkness? " 00118031,"[TEMP] From Felassen: This area was once held a sizeable pocket of spirits who took up Solas's cause. Now, little remains as it's decayed with his absence. " 00118032,"[TEMP] A dreamer/wanderer: They walk the empty streets, wondering what this place once was. " 00118033,"[TEMP] Title - City Island, City Path " 00118034,"[TEMP] Entries on the loyalists (revenants) during the path leading to the encounter " 00118035,"[TEMP] Note from a wanderer who became lost. Once had a dream of a place like this or heard word of a scary place in the Fade���should be safe up here…unless BIG SPIDERS (throwback to DAI's Fade with one too many spiders ) " 00118036,"[TEMP] Reflections of a previous inhabitant, maybe someone who lingered after Solas left and everything started to decay. " 00118037,"[TEMP] Title - Mountain Island, Revenant " 00118038,"TEMP] Title - City Island, Rev Path 2 " 00118039,"[TEMP] Title - Forest Island, Forest Path " 0011803A,"[TEMP] Title - Lighthouse Island " 0011803B,"[TEMP] Title - Mountain Island, Blight Tree " 0011803C,"[TEMP] Title - City Island, Rev Path " 0011803D,"[TEMP] From Felassan maybe: What as this thing? They were building something? For good? For…bad? " 0011803E,"[TEMP] A passerby turned corpse: A reflection of the deep roads - funny, since dwarves can't use magic. Do they dream? (jess doesn't know) " 0011803F,"[TEMP] From Felassen: what this tree used to be, was once a 'tree of life' type of thing. " 00118040,"[TEMP] From Felassan: something about Solas and Mythal? Or is that too on the nose? He built this place for her, but it's been sitting empty. Holding out hope and can't let go." 00118041,"[TEMP] A visitor who wandered here, remarking that there was no way cross the vast void to the Lighthouse obscured in the distance. Perhaps they'll rest here a while " 00118042,"[TEMP] Lost in the Fade for what seemed like weeks. Woke up and found themselves stranded on a very different type of island. " 00118043,"[TEMP] From Felassen: a sacred place to the spirits when they dwelled there. But below, something dark was brewing. Worry about Solas going down the dark path. " 00118044,"[TEMP] From Felassen: Reflection on the war, Solas. Here is a quiet place, away from everything. "

As you can see in parts of this his name is mis-spelled "Felassen". Not every line in this quoted chunk of gamefiles may pertain to Felassan. Some of these 'lines' appear to be temp dialogue or temp/placeholder codex/note text; some can probably be matched up with finished actual codexes/notes from the game, e.g. "From Felassen: what this tree used to be, was once a 'tree of life' type of thing" sounds like it became/was the placeholder text for Note: The Blighted Tree (see below for that). The "White Revenant" part near the rune stuff is interesting - it seems like at one point during development, at the medium (Greater) and top (Ultimate) versions of the rune, the rune could may have been able to be used to summon a "White Revenant" [good revenant? white holds connotations of pure, good, cleansed. the personifications of Solas' regrets like Betrayal of Felassan were also revenants, and they were Blighted/corrupt/dark] to assist Rook in battle against Elgar'nan? I wonder if the White Revenant was essentially a spirit, memory or echo of Felassan...?

CODEX ENTRIES

Codex Entry: Introduction to the Lighthouse

"Introduction to the Lighthouse Once, the Lighthouse was a place of learning, with tools to study the secret workings of great magic. When Solas rebelled against those who call themselves our gods, the Lighthouse became his center of operations, with tools to study the best ways to free ourselves from the tyranny of the Evanuris. You are safe here, both those of flesh and those of Fade. Any who wish to help are welcome. The magic of the Lighthouse will provide for your needs, see to your comfort, and even help you understand different tongues, for those who escaped here from distant parts of the empire. Should you have any other needs, ask for the Slow Arrow, and I will help. --Felassan"

Codex Entry: The Dread Wolf's Eluvian

"The Dread Wolf's Eluvian Most of us have only traveled through the eluvians at the whims of those who called themselves our gods. We know them as mirrors that always go from one to another, a bonded pair linked no matter the distance. Solas has outsmarted the so-called gods. If we used normal eluvians, they could track us to our lair. Solas has improved upon June's work by creating a mirror whose singing stone can change its tune to take us to any eluvian and not just its bonded partner. Thus, we can travel wherever this rebellion needs us, with no fear of pursuit. Travel is as safe as a normal eluvian. If you have questions, ask for the Slow Arrow, and I will guide you. --Felassan"

Codex Entry: About the Freed Slaves

"About the Freed Slaves We got word from the warding sites. Many dead, far more than the casualties we inflicted. The story being spread is that we killed everyone. Andruil's servants made examples of a few and claimed the Dread Wolf is trying to weaken Arlathan by attacking servants and destroying the wards. It's hard to tell what people really believe now. I know you're likely berating yourself reading this. Just remember the faces of the people we saved. We can't control what the Evanuris do. And yes, we have to keep playing up the Dread Wolf. The people need someone they believe is strong enough to protect them, or they'll never join us. Don't worry. I promise to mock you viciously if you ever start believing those stories yourself. --Felassan"

Codex entry: Aftermath of Disparaging the Gods

[codex entry is from game files]

"Aftermath of Disparaging the Gods You were right. The Evanuris did not like the insinuation that they need protection. The good news is that public sentiment has turned against the lyrium knights, and our agents got information that let us destroy one of the sarcophagi. The bad news is that Andruil and Ghilan'nain made a big show of putting down a protest in the east personally instead of sending the knights. Andruil left a crater where the town stood, and Ghilan'nain is using the people taken prisoner as fodder for her experiments. This isn't your fault, but still, this is exactly what I was worried about. It's not enough to be right about these things. We have to think about the consequences. --Felassan"

Codex Entry: Felassan's Concerns about the Dagger

[codex entry is from game files]

"Felassan's Concerns about the Dagger I'm keeping calm in front of the new recruits, but you've been dodging me for weeks now. We need to talk about the lyrium dagger. Yes, it's powerful. So is an erupting volcano, and nobody would try to harness that for power. (Well, maybe Andruil, but do you really want to be compared to Andruil?) We need to stop the Evanuris, but I'd rather we didn't destroy the world in the process. If you're certain you can control its power, tell me that. In those words. No equivocating. Also, you and I both know what this dagger means to you. I don't cast my best spells when my spirit is unbalanced. Do you? (That's a real question. Maybe you do!) I'm with you no matter what. --Felassan"

NOTES

Note: Mirrors Upon Mirrors

"MIRRORS UPON MIRRORS This place is amazing. June's normal eluvians function with twinned lyrium fragments. One always leads to another. Solas somehow talked the Crossroads into making Fade-eluvians that override them. His own network to run our rebellion. Provided you ignore all the old stories about holding mirrors up to mirrors and getting caught in the infinite reflections. - Felassan"

Note: An Unknown Artifact

"AN UNKNOWN ARTIFACT What are the Crossroads doing? “The spirits of the Crossroads do as they must, Felassan. As do we all.” Thank you, Solas. That's incredibly useful. Really helps your old friend pull together a rebellion against the Evanuris. - Felassan"

Note: The Blighted Tree

"THE BLIGHTED TREE This is a holy place. The tree draws strength from the earth, just as the first elves did. Some younger elves grow trees in the cities to honor their ancestors. Roots have a tendency to dig down and gnarl up, then twist around things they aren't supposed to, though. Hoping that metaphor doesn't stick. - Felassan"

Note: The Cathedral of Roots

"THE CATHEDRAL OF ROOTS When we first started, this was a safe place for spirits who joined our cause to find peace from the stress of battle. Now... I don't know. Not a lot of spirits use it any longer. Have they grown stronger, or has the fight against the Evanuris made demons of us all? - Felassan"

Note: A Refuge for Mythal

"A REFUGE FOR MYTHAL Solas always thought Mythal would join us eventually, that she was better than the rest of the Evanuris. He made this place so she'd be comfortable here once she joined the rebellion. Now it's too late. Solas has sealed this place off out of grief. He won't let me in. I'm sorry, my friend. There was something left for the war to take from you after all. - Felassan"

Note: Calm Before The Storm

"CALM BEFORE THE STORM I come here sometimes when I need to be myself. Not Solas's friend Felassan. Not the Slow Arrow of the rebellion. Just me. He hasn't been right since what happened with Mythal. He's planning something with the dagger. And if it were a good idea, he'd have told me. Damn it, Solas. I'm with you as long as we're protecting the innocent from the powerful, but you make it hard sometimes. - Felasan"

Note: The Empty Forest

"THE EMPTY FOREST This place used to be full of spirits who flocked to Solas's cause. When his ritual went wrong - when everything went wrong - he vanished, and the spirits stopped coming. Where are you, my friend? You stopped the Evanuris, but broke the world. Please tell me you didn't leave me to fix all this alone. - Felassan"

Note: Faded Note

[this note is not explicitly signed as being by Felassan, but it seems likely to me]

"FADED NOTE Look at this place. We planned a rebellion here once. Said we'd change the future of the elves, throw off tyrants, and we did. Now the path outside is fractured. It'll be hard rekindling all the eluvians. Solas, if you see this: I'll be looking for you, out in this world and in the mortal one. Don't cause too much trouble before I get there."

FELASSAN'S RUNE

"FELASSAN'S RUNE The power of Felassan's Rune is based on how much of the gods' influence you drove back in the Crossroads. Equip Felassan's Rune at the Character screen, and use [buttons] to activate it. This rune can only be used against Elgar'nan."

Close-up of the image of the rune from the pop-up above:

The rune comes in three different strengths, each with a differing design. The design increases in complexity as the rune's strength does. Image of the Ultimate version of the rune, called "The Ultimate Salvation of Felassan":

The design of the carvings of the Felassan runes btw are shaped like arrow-heads, very fitting for the Slow Arrow... :)

I think the two weaker versions of the rune are called The Lesser Salvation of Felassan and The Greater Salvation of Felassan respectively. The appearance of the "Lesser" version is the one shown in the close-up image from the pop-up. And the appearance of the "Greater" version is:

Morrigan's dialogue when she gives Rook the Ultimate version of the rune:

Morrigan: “‘Tis a difficult battle you face, but you are among more allies than you know. You have purified the Crossroads, uncovered ancient truths lost for ages, and earned the essence of Mythal. You are truly the champion of the Fade. Take this. Should your fight against Elgar’nan grow desperate, invoke the memories of the Dread Wolf’s rebels. For you, they will stand against tyranny one las time.”

Rune effects info boxes, explaining what the Ultimate version does in gameplay:

DIALOGUE AND QUESTS

The boss "Betrayal of Felassan" has the following lines of dialogue, said as combat barks during its boss fight:

“His back, turned.”

“A story, unfinished.”

“For the Wolf.”

“For freedom.”

These lines of dialogue refer to Solas' murder of Felassan as depicted in Dragon Age: The Masked Empire (and his regrets around this), Felassan's role in their rebellion, and Felassan and Solas' relationship.

Felassan himself appears during two quests in the game, The Wolf's Call and Disrupt and Conquer.

The Wolf's Call journal entries:

"When the team takes a trip into the past, they must assist a daring rescue firsthand. - Explore the past --- Free the prisoners ------------------------------------------------- While exploring the Crossroads, the team has discovered a memory focused on the time of Solas's rebellion."

[on quest completion]

"The Crossroads has retained memories of the Dread Wolf's past. The team took on the role of Solas's rebels and saw how he once risked all to save innocent prisoners from the gods."

Felassan dialogue lines during this quest:

"Glad you made it here safely. I didn't love our odds without you."

"All right. Everything's in place. We hit Elgar'nan's island fortress tonight."

"This is our best chance to free the people he's enslaved. Get in, save as many as you can, and bring them back here to sanctuary."

"Be fast and be safe. I'll meet you on the other side."

"Fen'Harel's scouting ahead. For freedom! For the Dread Wolf!"

"You: Keep moving, no matter what. Free those slaves."

"We'll take everyone else and give the guards something to think about."

"Stop his guards. We need to buy time for the captives to get to safety."

"Let the big asshole rant. Everyone we've freed is safe in the Crossroads."

Note: the subtitle says "asshole", but to my ear it sounds like the actor is British and saying "arsehole" not "asshole"

"Solas?"

Disrupt and Conquer journal entries:

"When the team takes a trip into the past, they must fight in an ancient battle that turned the tide of war. - Explore the past --- Get to the gods' fortress. ------------------------------------------------- While exploring the Crossroads, the team has discovered a memory revealing the last days of Solas's war against the gods."

[on quest completion]

"The Crossroads has retained memories of the Dread Wolf's past. The team took on the role of spirits of disruption and saw Solas's growing willingness to sacrifice his allies."

Felassan dialogue lines during this quest:

"Spirits, Fade-friends, come forth. Enter the circle. Reveal yourselves."

"Come to us and make yourselves known!"

"Spirits. The Dread Wolf asks for your assistance on a critical mission."

"You are Spirits of Chaos, Disorder, and Disruption. We ask you to disrupt the citadel's defenses. Give us the opening to get that relic."

"For freedom!"

"Disruption, lead the charge and do what you do best. Whatever champions the gods send against you, bring them down."

"Disruption fought to the last, and it was all for nothing. We couldn't take the citadel."

""Distraction?""

Felassan: "You knowingly sent all those spirits to their deaths? Solas... we're supposed to be better than that." Solas: "They died true to there nature, doing what they loved, Felassan. Let that be a comfort, that this war did not corrupt them into something different from what they were supposed to be."

MISC

Writers:

Trick Weekes on Bluesky: "Jo Berry wrote the flashback bits in the Crossroads where Felassan showed up! I loved getting to see him live in the game. (I helped with the notes a bit, but most of the Crossroads is Jo’s amazing work.)"[source] Jo Berry: "Felassan was such a delight in the Masked Empire; when the opportunity came up we just *had* to see him again 😁" [source]

Voice actor: Chris Gordon [IMDB] in English, Raphaël Cohen in French, Frank Logemann in German

Hair: I think Felassan's in-game hairstyle is available in the CC - Hair 47

Vallaslin: Mythal's (as was known before DA:TV released), specifically I think it's Design 34 from the CC

Pronunciation of his name according to DA:TV: [link]

In the cast section of the credits he is listed as "General Felassan"

Armor: I think Felassan's in-game armor is available as an appearance Rook can have for theirs. The name and description of it are as follows -

"Arlathan’s Fall (Arlathan) Appearance The harder they hit you, the stronger your resolve. Crafted from ancient Arlathan alloys."

When you defeat Betrayal of Felassan, the treasure in the chest it guards is a Unique amulet called The Burden. Description and appearance of this:

"Surprisingly heavy. It weighs you down, then picks you up."

I wonder if this is to do with the burden Solas carried of having killed Felassan..?

Reference images of Felassan from other angles, and Felassan-Solas height comparison:

Betrayal of Felassan appearance:

Throne Betrayal of Felassan sat on:

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Life Lessons || CL16

Summary: After an embarrassing secret is shared Charles accepts some help to learn a few things about female pleasure.

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fem rec oral, sex ed

WC: 2.9k

Charles - The Lazy Lover - Leclerc. That was what the wag gossip pages all shared in their stories and Charles’ cheeks grew red with embarrassment as he read the latest caption. The supposed ‘inside source’ had recounted the disappointment his past girlfriends had found in Charles’ bedroom activities. They cited him as ‘vanilla’ and ‘a missionary man’, but none of those hurt more than the sentence that described his oral capabilities as ‘nonexistent’.

He didn’t think he was bad in bed, and he wouldn’t have called himself selfish, but he couldn’t help asking some of his exes for the truth. Each of them denied sharing the information to the gossip pages, but they all replied with the same consensus.

Charles chased his own pleasure and they didn’t feel comfortable telling him what they needed to reach their own high too. He felt guilty, wondering how many of the relationships would have ended differently or not ended at all if he had paid more attention - to their sex life as well as the rest. He certainly hadn’t been the most attentive in any aspect of his last relationship with Alexandra.

“Don’t laugh,” Pierre started the conversation seriously, something that immediately caused concern for Charles. “I know someone who knows someone that can help you. She’s a private tutor, of sorts.”

“Do you know how fucked I would be if news broke I went to a hooker?”

“She’s not a hooker,” Pierre assured him as he wrote an address down on a napkin and slid it across the table. “It's already taken care of, 8pm tomorrow.”

Charles looked at the address and sighed. “This is in Paris.”

“Of course, City of Love, my friend.” Pierre finished his coffee and rose from the table, pushing a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Charles mumbled, still uncertain about the whole idea of having a stranger teach him how to be a better lover. “I guess.”

Later that afternoon, Charles received an email with a rather detailed questionnaire about his experiences in the bedroom as well as a small dining and drinks menu to select from. He figured he couldn’t be any more embarrassed than he already was and took his time to honestly answer the questions.

—

Charles debated turning around at least three times as he climbed the stairs in a modern apartment building. He had caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower from the stairwell window and paused as the lights danced along the metal, wondering if he was in the right place. He was still in half a mind that Pierre had sent him to a brothel, but this didn’t fit the stereotype he had in his head of a Parisian whorehouse. He definitely imagined more Moulin Rouge lighting and seedy alleys.

He reached the 3rd floor and found only one door on the landing, his finger barely able to aim for the doorbell with its shaking. He didn’t know what to expect when the handle started to turn, but it certainly wasn’t a bright welcoming smile and the delicious smell of fresh baking.

“Hi, you must be Charles,” you greeted your newest client. “Come in, please.”

You could tell he was nervous as he hesitantly stepped inside and his eyes scanned your home, taking in the artwork on the walls and the candlelit table with two place settings. You tried to ease his mind with a quick introduction about who you were while you poured him a glass of wine.

“Help yourself,” you said as you took a seat and waved a hand to the fresh bread and cheeses he had selected from the menu. He took a breath and sat down opposite you, the candlelight catching the sharp jawline and angular features of his handsome face. “So, Charles, what is your goal? What do you want to get out of this?”

“I, uh, to be able to please a woman?”

“You don’t sound sure,” you teased as you watched him spread an olive tapenade over the fresh toasted bread.

“No, no, I am,” he said a little more forcefully before sighing. “I didn’t realise I was…bad…in bed, until recently.”

“Well, rest assured, we will change that. But first, tell me a bit more about yourself, there’s only so much I can learn from the questionnaire.”

—

Charles began to relax the more he shared. He knew he was protected by the NDA you had sent with the rest of the paperwork and the anonymity that came with baring his ugly truths to a stranger helped to ease the discomfort of what he was doing. He still wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing but your encouraging smile kept his words flowing, like he was finally doing something right.

He hadn’t realised how quickly time had passed until the grandfather clock in the entrance chimed the hour and he saw he had eaten his fill of the meal he chose.

His overnight bag still waited on the hall table, the list of what to bring had been ticked off and double checked. His calendar had been cleared for the weekend and his phone turned off. Everything he needed to remember could be jotted down in the small journal that sat beside his used cutlery.

“So, um, what happens next?” he asked as his eyes darted to the bedroom door.

“Whatever you feel comfortable with, Charles. Come,” you rose from the table and grabbed his bag, taking it to your bedroom as he trailed behind. His feet rushed before slowing down as he caught his own eagerness and frowned to himself. It was common. There was a blurred line between of uncertainty on whether they were here to get laid or here to learn.

You placed his bag beside the large desk that covered one wall of your room and pointed to the computer chair where he took a seat. “Every woman is different and there isn’t a universal button to make us come. But, by understanding the physiological functions and anatomy, I will teach you the tools to find the right spots to make her fall apart.”

“A-anatomy?” he stammered.

You took a step back and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor and bare your nakedness. His eyes widened and he swallowed deeply as he drank in your body. A soft breath fell from his parted lips when you climbed onto the desk and spread your legs either side of him. “I could show you a textbook, but I find this much more effective.”

His throat bobbed as he tried to keep eye contact and the act brought a little laugh from your chest, forcing him to look at your breasts bouncing with it. “You can look, in fact that is exactly what this first lesson is about. Look, Charles.”

His eyes closed but when they opened he was staring at your core, his chest inflating with his deep breath. “Do I just start?” he asked hesitantly, wetting his lips with his tongue.

“Just look for now,” you said with a smile as you reached down your body. “Everyone has erogenous zones, places that feel good when stimulated, and these can be found all over your body, men and women. Thumbs, wrists, behind the knees, inner thighs, neck. Simply kissing and sucking these spots can feel just as good as foreplay.”

“Really?” he eyes widened in surprise and his eyes scanned all the places you had mentioned.

“Really, and I want you to find mine.” You bared your throat and relaxed back on your elbows. “You’ll watch for the physical reactions to confirm it. Deep breathing, moans, eyes closing, jaw slack, forehead pinched - they are some of the outward signs of pleasure.”

“Are you okay with this?” he asked as he found your bent knee the closest point to his lips and his tentative touch warmed your skin.

“I am, and I am pleased that you asked for consent.”

He smiled proudly at the praise before he lifted your leg and kissed the back of your knee, his eyes watching your face as he dragged his tongue along the tendon and crease. Your head fell back and he grinned. “There.”

“One,” you confirmed with a nod before he moved up to your thigh, trying the same thing with a kiss and a lap of his tongue. A giggle bubbled up and you squirmed away. “That’s just ticklish.”

“So not that one?” he double checked, and you shook your head. “Okay…”

The man was thorough and he made sure to find which ones were good for you and which ones weren’t. He paid attention to the signs and more than once he paused to jot down a note in the journal you had provided.

“You’re a good student,” you praised.

“I have a good teacher.”

You smiled at the compliment. “Would you like to explore lesson two tonight or rest? We have all weekend.”

His eyes gave away his answer before his lips did and you climbed off the desk. “Let’s start with the basics then. The first thing you want to do is make yourself comfortable. Craning your neck from where you lie between her legs isn’t comfortable and won’t encourage you to stay there if things take a little longer,” you explained as you moved into the bed and tossed him a pillow. “So, pop one of these under the small of her back.”

He looked at the pillow and shuffled forward. “Now?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, lifting your hips up so he could lay it in place. “Two things happen here, one, it lifts her hips higher for better access which your neck will be thankful for, and two, it tilts her pelvis down and makes it much easier to work her g spot.”

“I thought that was a myth.”

“Why don’t you find out?” you dared. “Did you clip your nails before you came?”

He looked at the short nails and wiggled his fingers with a nod. He had followed every instruction in the email.

“Good, the last thing you want is to accidentally cut a partner with a sharp nail. Now the technique most people find effective is palm up, one or two fingers, gently work your way inside - it’s all about timing, take it slow and build to begin. Once your fingers are inside, curl your fingers up and you’ll feel the tissue is softer, almost spongy. Massaging pressure over that stimulated the g-spot, and if you are good at multitasking you can then add pressure from the outside too. Just place a hand low on her abdomen, slightly above the pelvic bone - don’t press too hard though as it will push on her bladder. First though, you’d probably want to start with warming her up with some cunilingus, eating pussy.”

Charles hopped off the bed and grabbed the journal, quickly jotting down the instructions with quiet eagerness.

“You can practice if you feel comfortable,” you invited when he put the pen and page down.

“Uh, yeah, please,” he stammered as he knelt on the bed and shuffled closer.

You reached into the bedside drawer and grabbed a bottle of lube. “I don’t need this,” you said and he smirked as he saw the other outward sign you had explained - arousal - it already lubricated your slit with the thought of what Charles was going to do to you. “But you should always keep a bottle at home. All women are different, some are drier than others no matter how aroused they get. Or, it’s handy for other areas of play like anal, or even a sensual massage.”

You put the bottle back and settled among the pillows. “Use me, explore, feel the different textures and I’ll guide you if you need it. Remember to look and listen to the signs of pleasure.”

Charles nodded and settled between your legs, getting up close and personal with your pussy. His indecision held him frozen as he wondered where to begin so you offered some guidance. “Finding the clit is a good starting point and then exploring around it to find the sensitive spots. Lick, suck, kiss, try it all.”

Encouraged, he laid a tentative kiss on your slit, his eyes rolled up to watch for your reactions. Seeing nothing, he took aim and tried again, his lip brushing over your clit and a soft sigh reached his ears. More confident, his tongue flicked out and caught your clit making you jolt.

“Was that good or bad?” he asked with a frown.

“Both, that spot is very sensitive - think of the slit at the tip of your cock. When it’s primed and ready that feels amazing but straight off the bat it is a little shocking to the system. You’re in the right area though, so keep exploring.”

This time he circled his tongue around and your moan was louder. You could practically feel his smile on your skin.

“That feels good,” you hummed as warmth spread through your body and he reached up on his own initiative, massaging your breasts. “Oh, you’re a natural now.”

Inspired, he explored further, his tongue lashing along your slit, dipping into your cunt. Your back arched off the bed with a gasp so he delved deeper, fucking you with his tongue as a familiar tightening grew in your core.

“Now would be the perfect time to try to find the g-spot,” you murmured as you fought the urge to succumb to the pleasure, but the lesson wasn’t over.

His rhythm faltered with a fresh wave of nervousness and he pulled back with shiny swollen lips to drag his fingertips through the mess he had made. The slick digits started gently, dipping inside your cunt a little deeper each time until it met the resistance of his palm.

“Feel around for the different textures and then curl your fingers a little.”

He did as instructed and his lips parted in surprise as he felt the spot. “Oh, wow, I’ve never noticed that…”

Your laugh made your pussy clench and he chuckled as your walls tightened around his fingers. “I like that feeling,” he commented with a flirty smirk.

“I thought you would,” you said with a wink. “I also do lessons on male stimulation if you’re ever interested.”

“Like…gay?” he asked quietly, a frown starting to form on his brows yet it wasn’t a look of distaste.

You were intimately aware that he still had two fingers curled in your cunt but it was good that he felt comfortable enough to hold a conversation at the same time. “It’s about learning the male anatomy, like what we did here. Whether that knowledge is used for self pleasure or with a partner, male or female, that is up to them.”

He contemplated the idea for a moment before he remembered what he was doing and began to work his wrist, curling his fingers in sync so they dragged over that delicious spot. He watched your sordid reaction with fascination before he grew bolder, his tongue finding your puffy clit.

“Oh fuck, yes,” you moaned loudly as your pussy tightened in anticipation. He had read your body perfectly and flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit but this time you were primed and ready. Your orgasm began with a tingle through your hair, leading to a fine tremor that danced down your spine, it raced down your legs and curled your toes. “Oh, Charles!”

He moaned against your clit as his wrist snapped forwards and back, the wet sounds of your body filling the room as his fingers fucked you through the explosion. Your cunt clenched and spasmed around the digits and stars spotted your vision. Your head fell back into the pillows with a cry and liquid gushed over his fingers with the release.

Disoriented and overstimulated, you reached between your legs and placed your hand over his. “Please, too much,” you whispered with a hoarse voice and rough aftershocks snapping at your thighs. “That was so fucking good, Charles. I, I just need a minute.”

You threw an arm over your head, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you waited for your heart rate to calm again. A small laugh bounced from your chest as you came down from the high and you finally had the strength to prop yourself back up on your elbows.

“That was perfect, Charles, you are a very quick learner.”

He was busy staring at his hand, your release coating his palm and running down his wrist. “So that’s what an orgasm feels like?” His brows pinched as he realised he had never felt that before.

“It’s what this one felt like. They can be different based on what areas are stimulated, the intensity, intimacy, lots of factors.” You could see he was still disappointed in himself for his previous ignorance and you sat up slowly, crossing your legs as you faced him. “Just because a woman doesn’t orgasm it doesn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the experience. Does a blow job feel good before you cum?”

He shrugged, still a little unconvinced. “Yeah.”

“See, forgive yourself and move on, now you know what to do for next time.” You carefully climbed off the bed on unsteady legs and offered your hand. “Last lesson of the night, aftercare.”

He stood up and froze, looking down at his pants. “Sorry, I kind of, uh, um…”

“Why are you sorry?” you laughed, drawing his attention away from the damp patch on his trousers. “You are meant to enjoy pleasuring your partner. Never apologise for that, Charles.”

[cyn-write]

"You've Bewitched Me"

Prompt - NRC is in upheaval. A video of Yuu singing a song has been circling around the school about her being "bewitched," and everyone is trying to figure out by who. Yuu is embarrassed and upset about her private song being the subject of gossip, so she decides to hide from everyone only for her crush to find her and reveal he has been "bewitched," by her...

Pairings - NRC Students x F!reader

Warnings - Gossip, Incredibly Shy Reader with Stage Fright, Depictions of Anxiety, Not Beta Read

Song - "Bewitched" by Laufey

Prologue (Here) - Heartsyble - Savannaclaw - Octavinelle - Scarabia - Pomefiore - Ignanhyde - Diasmonia

When @/thegreatestmagealive uploaded a video of the Ramshackle Perfect singing a love song, to say NRC nearly blew up would be an understatement.

The song, the poster titled “Bewitched,” became an instant hit across campus, but also became the source of tension as everyone was asking the same question: Who bewitched the Ramshackle Perfect?

“20 Thumbmarks on Leona!”

“15 on Kalim!”

“Kalim? Really, no it has to be Vil!”

“30 DOLLARS ON LORD MALLEUS!”

“EVERYONE HUSH! Now Francis, how much on Vil?” The Halls of NRC were filled with gossip on who the song was about. There were multiple pots floating around of people betting on who it was about, and just as many heated discussions.

“Who says it’s a housewarden? She spends most of her time with the Freshies so it has to be one of them! My money is on the Red Head on the Basketball team, he is always hanging on her!” A Scarabia student chimed in at this corner table of the Cafateria.

“Ace? He’s an ass, no it has to be Spade! Anytime someone makes a comment about he at practice, he gets all defensive.” A Heartstyble student on the track team chimed in.

“That runt? Na, he has nothing on Jack.” The Savannaclaw student across from them chimed in.

“The Wolf? He barely says any words! Besides, the Perfect has more class than that, it has to be Epel!” A Pomefoire Student retorted getting glares from the Savannaclaw student.

“All of you are wrong, I ran the data,” The Ignanhyde student pulled out his tablet and showed them a chart, “Out of all the possibilities crossed referenced with the lyrics of the song, it has to be-“

Debates across the school were happening as people discussed who she was singing for. While some advocated for others, others advocated for themselves.

That night, in the midst of the debates, a poor Grim was looking for a place to stay the night. So he went first to Heartstyble.

Grim walked through the portal and saw *chaos*.

“CAULDRON!”

“DEUCE WHAT THE HELL!”

“Calm down you two! No one is going anywhere till Riddle gets back!”

Trey helped Ace out from under the cauldron while Cater tried to calm down Deuce who was red as roses. “Yuu’s private song was just released and all you can think about it YOURSELF!” Deuce called out to Ace as he attempted to wesal himself out of Cater’s grip.

Ace dusted himself off as Trey helped him up, “Well, it is pretty obvious! Who else could it be about? You Loosey Duece? Or maybe Mr. Magicam? Chef Dad? Or maybe, our esteemed leader? No. It has to be me, so I am going to go check on her-“

Deuce tackled Ace, again, so Trey and Cater had to dive in to separate the two.

It did not take long for grim to realize it might be best to come back later. So he went back through the portal to try Savannaclaw.

But his scruff was grabbed before he could step through.

“Heeeey, Sealie!!” Grim gulped as he knew that voice all too well. Floyd turned Grim around so he was facing the two most terrifying smiles in NRC. “Mind clearing something up for Jade and I? See, he thinks Shrimpy’s song is about him, but I say its bout me. And every guppy is saying a different name, so we wanted to get info from them inside fishie~”

“W-what are you talking about!” Grim said crossing his arms. He knew he was in deeeeep dodo.

“Come now Grim, you must know who she’s singing about?” Jade said with a sonically smile on his face, “Now, as Yuu’s close friends, we just want to know, who bewitched our dear friend?”

“Yeeeaaah Sealie, who?” Floyd sung melodically.

“I-I ain’t saying anything!” Grim kept his mouth shut. He had already made Yuu mad, he didn’t want to make. It any worse.

“Oh come on Sealie! Everyone has a price! What’s yours??-“

“What are you two doing?” Came the harsh voice of Vil, Grim’s savior. The housewarden meeting must have finished. Early as all seven, yes even Malleus, came into the hall of mirrors to witness poor little grim shiver in his fur.

“Heya Beta!” Floyd said and waved Grim around, “We’re just asking Sealie a question! That’s all!”

“I’m guessing it’s about Yuu?” Azul asked as he made his way over to his Eel’s. “How is the Ramshackle Perfect? We missed her at the meeting.”

“Yuu… wellllllllll….” Grim scratched his cheek and the other housewarden’s came over, all wondering the same thing, “She is kinda sorta mad at me. And kinda sorta threw me out for ‘not respecting her privacy’ which I didn’t mean to get her upset, I just wanted to show everyone she had a pretty voice and she got all mad.”

“We’ll if you need a place to stay, Octavinelle is always open to poor souls! And I am sure we can work out a pi-“

“We all know what you want Azul, just ask him now so we can clear this up!” Leona said, clearly annoyed at the Mers underhanded methods. “Whose the song about?”

“I-I don-“

“Why are we even asking this question? It is clearly me!” Vil said shaking his head.

“What makes you so sure Schoenheit?” Malleus asked, “I spend more time with the Child of Man and have more magical prowess, it is defiantly about me. I was just about to grab her the-“

“No way the songs about you Lizard!” Leona retorted, “She clearly-“

“The Song’s about Nii-Chan! I ran the-“ Ortho chimed in with Idia listening in on his screen.

“WILL YOU ALL BE QUIET!” Riddle yelled, somehow getting the attention of the others, “This is disgraceful! You are. All concerned with your own selfish needs when you should be worrying about our fellow housewarden whose privacy has been breached and is probably distraught!”

Kalim nodded and said, “Yeah, we need to go cheer her up! Besides, it was probably just a song about love, nothing else!”

Grim sighed and added, “Oh its about someone, You she hear the other songs she wrote about him-“

“About WHO!” Everyone asked.

“I DON’T KNOW!” Grim said and got the glares of everyone.

Azul sighed and said, “You just said you knew.”

“I said I knew she has a crush and wrote more songs about him. I never said I knew WHO it was.” He crossed his arms and looked at the ground, “And she threw me out before I could ask. I tried going back in but she sounded so… upset. When I asked to come back in and apologized she said she just wanted to be alone…”

The group looked dejected at this. Floyd let Grim go and sighed, “Poor Shrimpy…”

Azul looked at Jade and Floyd, “Let’s go, Lounge won’t run itself.”

As Azul left with his Eels, Leona and Kalim also branched off their dorms, “Jamil is probably wondering where I am.”

“Yeah, I gotta make sure Savannaclaw is still in one piece.”

Vil and Ortho branched off next with Vil grumbling about wrinkles and Ortho talking to Idia.

Riddle and Malleus were the last two left with Grim.

“Grim, your welcome to stay at Heartstyble. It might help keep Ace and Deuce in.” Riddle said then looked to Malleus, “The Perfect probably needs a night, but if you do check on her, please let her know I-… We are here if she needs us.”

“I will Roseheart,” Malleus nodded to his red haired companion as he and Grim walk through the Heartstyble Mirror. Malleus turns and before he can make his way to Ramshackle, Lilia is there. All he has to do is shake his head and Malleus knows what his mentor is trying to say, she needs time alone.

The next morning, the first years go to Ramshackle to walk with Yuu to breakfast as they do every morning, but when they got their, the ghost intervened and said she needs to sleep in. The three ghost refused to let any of them enter and even brought Grim’s stuff to the door.

Yuu did not show to any of her classes or reply to any text, and all of her friends quickly understood why. Yuu’s song was all everyone was talking about, more specifically, who it was about. All the pots from the nights before had tripled and almost every students had a guess on who it was about. Yuu has never felt more embarrassed.

By the time night rolled around again, Yuu had read every text, post, and comment about her song. People were making guesses and demanding she confess who. In the midst of the chaos and rumors, all she could think about was what her crush was thinking. She had liked him as more than a friend for a while now, but had no clue if he returned the sentiment. All the worse possibilities were running through her head.. ‘He probably thinks I’m some obsessed freak, this is so embarrassing, Grim ruined. everything, there is no coming back from this. our friendship is ruined, I can never show my face at school again…” Thoughts like this combined with her stage fright made her mood worse. She wrote songs and sang them to help her work through things, it was incredibly personal for her and she never intended to share any of them, not yet at least. Now she was lying in her bed, curled up in her blankets with her phone lighting up with text next to her. She could not bring herself to talk to anyone, she was too scared and embarrassed to.

The Ghost have been kind enough to fend off Grim (who she was still mad at) and her friends (who she was still too embarrassed to see) so she could have some time alone. They worked as her guards and caretakers, making her eat and get up every now and then. They were also the only ones who knew who her songs were about.

So when he arrived on her doorstep, the ghost decided to let him in.

Yuu was looking at her notebook, pouring over the lyrics again and again when a knock came at her bedroom door.

“Yuu… can I come in?” His voice carried through the door.

Yuu felt her heart stop. She held her notebook tightly and sighed, “I guess its now or never…”

She got up from her bed, notebook in hand, and stood in front of the door. She was shaking and as she stared at the door, terrified of what would happen next, when he cast a spell over her once again:

“Yuu, I… I don’t. know if that song was about me but I want you to know. You’ve bewitched me too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: This is the Prolouge to a small series! Be on the look out for each characters part and if you want tagged please let me know! Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing more characters in this scenario or these characters in different scenarios, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

[quixotical-lymbo]

Pairing: Orion Pax x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Why did you agree to join Orion on a day out which promised a 'fun' time?  Warnings/Tags: SPOILERS for the transformers one movie, cybertronian reader, running from the law, awkward first kiss, forced bonding/j, flirting, banter, humor, acquaintances to friends to…?, and fluff.  Word Count: 1300+ words 

"...find anything yet?" 

You jumped and juggled the recording in your servos. Gasping as it slipped between your digits a few times before you had a firm hold on it with both servos. You glared at the mech hanging over your shoulder, who rose his servos as he backed up from you. 

"No, nothing yet," You answered as you carefully placed the recording back in its original spot. Your optics ran over the many shelves and cases full of records, a huff left you as you turned to ask, "You?" 

"None," Orion took out a recording and discarded it carelessly. 

"...you know we should probably go," You stepped away from the shelf and approached Orion's back. You stopped just a few steps away from him, peering around his arm to see the mech filtering through the piles on the table. "Before we get caught again." 

"We won't get caught, stop being a wuss," Orion reassured with a laugh. 

"Hey! What are you two doing over there? Wait, is that Orion Pax again?!" 

The two of you shared horrified looks before scrambling from the records as the shouting officers demanded you two to stop. 

"I told you we would get caught!" You blew your top as you sprinted beside Orion. 

"And I'm telling you we won't-!" Optimus turned a corner and grunted when he slammed against a wall. 

"Dead end?" Optimus glanced up and saw the vents were boarded up. "Damn, they really prepared this time." 

"See? See? This is exactly why I should've listened to D to not come with you," You shook your digit at Orion before dropping your face into your palm. "We are going to get demoted for sure." 

"...halt!"

The approaching voices caused you to fret even more, but Orion was immune to the panic as he focused on finding a way out of this. He glanced around the corridor before his optics landed on a window. 

You felt something grab your wrist and before you could squeal you were pulled along. Your optics fell on the window that Orion was leading the both of you to and you began shaking your helm frantically. 

"No, no, no, don't you da-!" 

"Too late for that!" Orion pulled you close and shielded your frame with his as he rammed through the glass. 

A scream ripped from your intake as the two of you pummeled toward the ground, other cybertronians and the like zooming past the two of you.

Fortunately, the two of you landed on an overhang attached to a wall, the force ricocheted you both into breaking another window and falling inside of a building. Orion rolled with you in his arms for a few seconds until he rolled onto his back, then he unwrapped his arms from you. 

Out of breath and gasping for air, You and Orion gawked at each other for a moment before a giggle left your dermas. Orion couldn't hold back anymore and also broke out a fit of chuckles while you weakly dismounted from him and sat on the ground. Your optics observed the broken pieces of glass that led to the elevated window you two entered from.

It….was really high up, not even Orion seemed tall enough to reach it. 

 

"What did I say? We wouldn't get caught and here we are now! Not getting screamed at or forced to work another long hour of-" Orion faltered as did his optics observing your back. Him seeing your shoulders slump as well as the lack of your usual taunts spooked him. 

"...___? Is something wrong?" Orion got off of the ground and joined you by your side. He placed a servo on your shoulder and leaned forward to gauge your reaction. 

"Pax…" You began. "We're trapped." 

"What?" Orion's optics widened. 

"Look." 

So he did and he didn't like what he saw. 

Orion examined the building they were in and how dark it was. There wasn't any light sources other than the light streaming in from the window. Everything else was boarded up and the room appeared…abandoned to say the least. 

There were a few boxes and carts here and there, but other than those things it was fairly empty. 

"Scrap," Orion hissed. "Look, ___, I-" 

He turned to you and shut his trap up when you held up a servo. 

"It's fine, I expected things to go to scrap the moment I agreed to go on this 'outing,'" You curled your digits to make the 'quote-on-quote' gesture before dropping your arms. You turned on your heel strut and walked over to the nearest wall and slid down onto your aft. Orion watched you go, his face twisting with a flurry of emotions before he decided to sit beside you with his legs stretched out. 

"..." You couldn't find the strength to speak or entertain a conversation now of all times. You didn't hate Orion, or find him that annoying like every other bot did. In fact, you liked him, more than you were willing to admit to his face or D's (who had an inkling and brought it up one time–but you quickly shut that down before his smug ideas could land you in trouble). You curled your knees to your chassis and burrowed your helm in your arms.

"..."

"Soooo…you come here often?" 

You raised your helm enough to peek your optics out and give Orion a look.

He smiled back. 

"Yeah, I come here all the time when I want to avoid dumb idiots like a certain red and blue mech," You shot back as your tone came out harsher than intended. 

Orion halfheartedly giggled before shooting you with another ridiculous response, "I'm pretty positive that the red and blue mech doesn't mean any harm…and he's very very sorry." 

You couldn't hide the smile growing on your faceplate. Rolling your optics and making contact with the bigger mech's face, you played along with his game. "Oh, is that so? Because I don't think bringing me to a dark, scary place is an ideal first date I'd imagine us going on."

It was Orion's turn to look at you. Stunned as his cheeks flushed with a light hue. 

 "Well, I, uh…" 

You looked away and smirked at your win. Even if he laughed it off or rebuffed you, it was nice that you could make him shut up for once. 

"...I could take you somewhere nicer…for next time." 

You almost had a whiplash from how fast your helm turned on your shoulders. You studied Orion's face for any signs of this being some cruel joke, but nothing prepared you for the soft expression and heated gaze that allowed you to drink in all of its vulnerability. 

Oh….oh.

"I'd love that," You admitted, optics shying away from his intense gaze. You unfurled from the ball you curled in and placed your servos on the ground.  A relieved sigh rumbled from Orion's chassis as he turned his gaze to stare off into space, his servo slowly inching away from his side and toward yours. 

You flinched when something tapped your pinkie, you peeked down and saw Orion's digit nudging against yours. Your dermas curved as your faceplate was set ablaze, you hooked your digit around Orion's—who in turn interlocked your servos together. 

The two cybertronians glanced up from their joined limbs and stared into each other's optics. 

Time slowed as the two of you leaned forward, you could practically hear each other's sparks beating wildly as the gap sealed with a kiss.

His dermas gently pressed against  yours, his other servo cupped the back of your helm and your own rested on his chassis. The kiss was soft and a bit awkward as Orion's forehelm knocked into yours a few times. Nevertheless, it was a wonderful experience. 

As you tilted your helm to deepen the kiss-

A loud bang caused the two of you to separate and stare at the two guards who blocked the only exit of the place. 

"EW! Public displays of affection and breaking into an official building is not allowed!" 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. star banner by @enchanthings !!