NIXX
independent dragon age oc penned by klaus semi-selective // 18+ // GMT also at @pcrseverance

Janaina Medeiros


Origami Around

shark vs the universe
d e v o n

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JVL
Sade Olutola
One Nice Bug Per Day
we're not kids anymore.

Love Begins
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

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Misplaced Lens Cap
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@swcrdhand
NIXX
independent dragon age oc penned by klaus semi-selective // 18+ // GMT also at @pcrseverance

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[worship.] sender worships receiver's body / chest / thighs / arms / back with touch, kisses, and praise.
|| intimacy action prompts
There's a certain clumsiness behind Alistair's eager touches that shows his inexperience, and Nixx finds it surprisingly attractive. He isn't used to inexperienced lovers, the sort of people who seek him out are usually those who've tried out what's available and are looking for something new. But Alistair-
Alistair, hair tousled and shirtless, the leather of his trousers stretched over his behind and spread thighs to accommodate the width of Nixx's lap. Alistair with his greedy hands that sweep over the contour of Nixx's muscled arms, his chest, the edge of his ribs where he shivers at the tickle.
Alistair has Nixx's cock hard and pressing against the ties of his trousers with just a few touches and Nixx is becoming increasingly appreciative of inexperience. There's nothing preplanned about the touches, there seems to be barely any regard as to what might feel good to Nixx, and he likes that too. How Alistair takes what he wants from him without fully realising it. He can take too. His hands flex against Alistair's arse and he coaxes him into a shallow grind against him because he doesn't need words to show him how much he likes those touches, his body says it just fine and he grunts softly at the contact.
“ i think there’s more inside you than everyone else would believe. and i think that’s how you want it. you like to be underestimated. ”
|| misc. memes
Thinking about what might be inside me for a reason? His first response reads, a pointed look at Alistair, then a further pointed look down at his royal crotch. Just to see if he can make the king fluster. He's so easy to fluster, much to Nixx's delight, and his pale skin only makes the fluster more obvious.
But Alistair deserves a better answer than that, maybe an answer that doesn't immediately provide proof to his claim, and he scuffs it clean.
Easy to let people think I'm stupid, people talk more if they think I don't understand, he offers. People forget my ears work too, even if my voice doesn't.
“ i don’t need anything from you. i’m here because i want to be. ”
|| misc. memes
He gives a soft cluck of his tongue, doubt evident in his expression because everyone needs something. Those something's just vary, and usually they're something's he's willing to give. There's not a lot he wouldn't do in exchange for a kind word, if it sounded interesting enough.
Nothing?? his slate reads, the word underlined twice for extra emphasis. Muscle? Sword? Sex?
His eyes narrow a little, considering as he looks her up and down then adds another note.
Boost up somewhere high?
☾ intimacy action prompts.
some prompts exploring the affectionate side of lust. mature audiences only; do not interact if you are a minor. add +reverse to reverse the roles. combine prompts by sending multiple at once. only use these prompts to portray consensual scenarios.
[mwah.] sender kisses receiver slowly, keeping their mouths joined even while moving inside them.
[stroke.] sender gently runs their hands through receiver's hair during sex.
[nestle.] sender buries their face in receiver's neck, planting kisses against it mid-fuck.
[safety.] sender and receiver experiment together as friends.
[held.] sender intertwines their fingers with receivers while having sex.
[steady.] sender holds receiver's trembling hands down gently against the sheets.
[comfort.] sender makes love to receiver after a rough day.
[borrow.] sender wears receiver's shirt/sweater while they have sex.
[confession.] sender murmurs "i love you" against receiver's skin.
[tease.] sender peppers kisses at receiver's stomach before dipping lower.
[worship.] sender worships receiver's body / chest / thighs / arms / back with touch, kisses, and praise.
[tender.] sender gently traces their fingers along receiver's scars.
[guide.] sender moves receiver's hand where they need it most.
[check-in.] sender pauses every few thrusts to ensure receiver is handling things okay.
[grind.] sender ruts against receiver through their clothing.
[first.] sender, being more experienced, guides receiver through their first time.
[cup.] sender holds receiver's face in their hands and kisses them tenderly.
[hurried.] sender hikes receiver's clothing just far enough to push inside of them.
[savor.] sender deliberately slows their rhythm, intent on lasting as long as possible.
[vice.] sender holds receiver close while finishing inside of them.
[stay.] sender plays with receiver's hair while being cockwarmed by them.

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well that's enough for that for the night, moving to mobile and disco - klaus9541
come tell me whether your muse wants to climb nixx like a tree and figure out whether his dick is in proportion to the rest of him
also RIP to the first human nixx ever stitched a wound for because he's used to qunari skin being THICK and his stitches went wayyy too deep for human skin
nixx wears eyeliner because he thinks it makes his eyes pretty.
and when i say 'wears eyeliner' i mean he slaps more on every few days and never takes it off it just smears about and fades away.
@swcrdhand sent: [ carry ] sender carries receivers muse to safety after finding them injured. Injury Starters | Accepting
"This is embarrassing, you know," Alistair mutters, trying very hard not to look at how far off the ground he's currently lifted. Being carried like a sack of grain - a very carefully held sack of grain, but grain none the less - by somebody who could probably lifted ten more of him really wasn't doing his dignity any favors. "A twisted ankle. Not the terrifying slash of a blade, not an exciting assassination attempt, not even a poorly placed trap. I stepped in a hole."
He can feel the heat on the back of his neck, and it doesn't help that Nixx appears to be grinning bemusedly at him. Of course the qunari finds this amusing, especially the part where he's bridle carrying the King of Ferelden.
"I don't think this is what people mean when they've been swept off their feet," he whines. The words come out more petulant that he intends them, but he thinks that it's completely fair given the circumstances. "And before you go thinking it - Yes, I know I should have been watching where I was walking. You won't need to point it out, since my ankle is doing the job just fine."
He shifts slightly, looking for a dignified position in the other man's arms, but it's not possible and he winces with the effort instead. "When people find out about this…" he considers, "Maybe can we make it sound more impressive? I don't think my fragile ego can take this hit any more than it already has."
His grin broadens with every complaint that comes from the King in his arms, both amused and delighted by how indignant the man is, how the monarch of a country whines. Nixx can't much reply with his arms full of his royal burden, but Alistair fills the gaps his silence makes in a way that feels natural, no intent stares trying to find answers or any foolish requests that he attempt to simply mouth words instead.
Nixx sets him down a short while after Alistair attempted to shift his weight, just in case he was uncomfortable and just in case he did actually want to move. There's plenty of rocks and fallen logs in the Hinterlands, and one proves to be suitably cushioned with moss.
How many bears should we have fought? Nixx offers his slate to Alistair as he kneels before him, gently taking his leg in hand to check on the state of the ankle. He's not well trained in tending injuries aside his own, he knows how to stitch a wound and how to ease swelling, but intricate things like ankles? There's no bones poking out, he deems it good enough.
What isn't good enough, however, is how pristine Alistair still looks. And it won't do if he wants to try impressive. A hand ruffles the kings hair to muss it, then Nixx thumbs under his own eye to gather some of the kohl smeared there and brushes it over Alistair's cheekbone in lieu of dirt.
Look like you tussled with at least one.

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“ you want to tell me something— i can see it. so you might as well speak. ” (Jasper - poor choice of words there)
|| misc. memes
He raises his brow, giving the Inquisitor a considering look.
After a pause his mouth works, manipulating the air into soft breathy noises. How he assumes people speak, he's not actually sure about the technicalities of it himself.
When the result is, predictably, nothing he heaves out a put upon sigh and shakes his head, snagging his slate from his belt.
Looks like the mark is only good for rifts, Inquisitor, he offers up.
“ it’s not something i usually talk about, because it’s not something most people can understand. ”
|| misc. memes
There's something about campfires at night that brings out the vulnerable in people, like it's easier to confess to flames in the dark than it is to people in the daylight. Nixx has been on the receiving end of many confessions, all his life people have entrusted their secrets in him believing they can't be shared, and admittedly they're not. Usually.
It's Alistairs turn now, it seems. Nixx is seat on the floor beside him, using his bulk to shield him from the nights chill, and he looks at the King as the King looks at the fire.
His words take longer to come than they usually do, resisting the urge to tap his pencil against his slate as he thinks about the best way to phrase things but there probably isn't a best way.
Don't need to understand to listen, and I've been told I'm a good listener, the slate says when he offers it up. But maybe I'll surprise both of us and be able to relate to royalty.
one of the most expensive things nixx owns (aside his weapons) is a gem enchanted to glow, set into a clip that can either be attached to his clothing or his slate to illuminate his hands or writing. he can't talk in the dark otherwise.
cullen habit that i'm awarding to nixx too- when next to people they both position themselves in such a way to shield the other person from any chill / breeze / less desirable weather
“what was that— you got this look in your eyes just now and then pushed it back down. tell me what you were thinking. ”
|| misc. memes
He blinks at her, startled for a moment- no one usually comments on his facial expressions unless he's emphasising them as he signs and the subtleties are often overlooked. But here he finds himself caught and his bemusement is consumed by a broad grin of delight.
I was thinking about what might be under your mask, he admits, in neater writing on his slate, she's a lady after all. Realised it might be rude.
He's encountered the people in masks before, the fancy masks- not the scraps of fabric people hide their faces with to remain anonymous. Although Orlesians weren't people he regularly came across they made it around Thedas as much as everybody else, and their insistence on hiding their faces always fascinated him but he never had a chance to ask why.

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"Sounds like me." She was picked up when the Inquisition came through the Fallow Mire. She didn't go into the field often with the scouts or main circle, preferring to stay behind where she was the most useful, though she did like to get out and see the world. There was so much she'd missed being in the Circle.
"Yes, but if the skin around it starts to get hot and raise, come back. It might be infected."
Thank you, he signs, scuffing his slate clean to write.
Thank you- you're a very gentle healer, quick too, he tells her. He brushes his fingers over the newly healed skin just to see how it feels, and gives a pleased grin when there's barely any difference to the rest of it.
Need someone to fetch you lunch? Be a pleasure to do a favour for a kind woman.
His staff is at the ready in an instant, but for a brief moment, Thilfonir freezes; like a deer hearing the snap of a twig and stopping to scent the air for a predator. When the qunari doesn't show immediate signs of hostility, he forces down the instinctual fear and returns his staff to its sling on his back as his own sign of good will. He didn't want to fight anyone if he didn't have to.
Even still, there is tension in the Herald's posture, ready to flee at the first sign of the stranger changing his mind about keeping things peaceful. Silence lingers for a few moments, giving each of them a chance to fully absorb each other's appearance, before Thilfonir ultimately speaks.
"...Are you with the... 'Valo-Kas?'" he asks, tentatively. He hoped he was pronouncing that correctly.
Nixx isn't particularly good with silence as his coughing sputters out, he's certain if he could speak he would never shut up, but he lets it sit without reaching for his slate for the moment. Anything to ease how tense the elf looks to be.
But then a question, and one he can answer. Yes, he signs with a bop of his fist, adding a more generic nod to it as well. Nixx taps a finger to his throat, then his mouth, and shakes his head. The elf seems like the clever sort if they managed to remember the mercenaries, he's hoping they can understand what he means.
He reaches for his slate, making his movements pointed in case he makes the elf twitch again, and jots out a message.
Collecting skulls to return to families- too many, might just take horns, he offers by way of explanation, sliding the slate across the floor to them.