#alien parasite sun

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

*throws confetti* alien parasite dca au yeehawwwww

i wanted to wait until i had a solid idea for the design of these guys before posting but i'm lazy and its been forever since i posted anything so uh. here ya go ig

and before anyone says it YES OBVIOUSLY THIS IS BASED ON VENOM and im sure someone else out there has made a dca venom au but the bad news is i do not care and im gonna draw them anyway lmao

[radio-crow]

UB-01: SYMBIOTE

Doing an experiment to see if the algorithm likes my Pokemon stuff because my first pokemon post got a lot of activity 🧍‍♀️

SHINY VER.

[feral-void-creature]

Day 27: Beast

Really wish Pokémon would do more with the Ultra Beasts, alien Pokémon is such a cool concept and it was just tossed to the side along with the rest of the cool concepts in gen 6 onward

[gingerteaonthetardis]

every time bg makes me too stressed, i start thinking about the xfiles instead so i can be even more stressed

[possessedmen]

Beware of cycling in the forest

Jack’s legs pumped the pedals in a rhythmic churn, tires humming softly over the dirt path winding through dense forest. The air was crisp, scented with pine and damp earth, the afternoon sun filtering through a canopy of leaves in shimmering fragments. He wasn’t in a hurry—this was his escape from the grind.

Then came the sound—wet, slithering. Subtle at first, like a snake sliding through leaves, but growing, taking on a slick, deliberate pace. Jack glanced to his right, brow furrowing. Nothing but trees and the underbrush. A shiver ran up his spine.

Suddenly, a sharp snap echoed behind him, like a branch breaking. He whipped his head around, heart pounding—but the trail was empty, stretching back in a harmless ribbon of dirt. He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “Get a grip.”

His focus returned to the road ahead just in time to catch the blur of something lunging from the bushes. Before he could react, a tendril—thick, dark, and pulsing with an eerie sheen—lashed around his ankle and yanked him off the bike.

Jack hit the ground hard. The air punched out of his lungs in a wheezing grunt. Dazed, he twisted to free his leg, but the thing tightened its grip, pulling him toward the trees with relentless force. His fingers scrabbled in the dirt, but it was useless—he was dragged over roots and stones, his cries swallowed by the suffocating silence of the forest.

Panic clawed at his chest. “Help! Someone! Hel—”His scream cut off as the tendril whipped him onto his back, slamming him against a mossy rock. Towering over him now was it—the source of the tentacle. An alien.

It wasn’t humanoid, wasn’t anything close to a recognizable creature. Its form was amorphous, shifting—like liquid trapped in flesh, constantly in flux. Black and viscous, with eyes—hundreds of them—blinking in and out of existence across its surface. The tentacle that gripped him was merely one of many, writhing from its body like restless serpents.

The thing leaned closer, tendrils stretching toward his face. Jack thrashed. “No! Get the fuck away from me!” A tendril slithered up his chest, coiling around his throat. His pulse pounded beneath its slick touch. It wasn’t squeezing—not yet—but he felt the threat in its grip.

Another tendril wormed its way toward his mouth. Jack clenched his jaw tight. “Oh, no. Fuck no.” The tendril hovered, waiting, patient. Then another snaked around his head, pinching his nose shut. Jack struggled, lungs screaming for air. He fought the urge, but survival instinct took over. He gasped, mouth falling open — and the tendril surged inside.

It tasted foul—metallic and bitter, like rotting fruit soaked in rust. He gagged, eyes watering, but the alien pressed deeper. It wasn’t just invading his mouth — it was burrowing. He felt it push down his throat, spreading, crawling through his insides.

His limbs spasmed, but the tendrils pinned him down, holding him still as the alien wormed its way further inside. His mind screamed, but his body betrayed him, muscles twitching under the creature’s control.

He staggered to his feet, no longer in control. The tendrils retracted, vanishing beneath his skin. His body moved without him willing it—arms, legs, even his breath no longer his own.

Jack—or what had once been Jack—blinked slowly, head tilting as though testing the movement. His body swayed on unsteady feet, like a newborn fawn, until he found balance. His fingers flexed, curling into fists, then stretching wide, fascinated by the mechanics of human joints and sinew.

The alien, nestled deep in Jack’s core, stretched through him like a parasite tasting its host. Every nerve, every muscle was a new frontier to conquer.

Jack’s lips curved into a crooked grin—a grin that should have been his, but there was something off about it. Too wide. Too deliberate. Like someone wearing a mask and pretending to be human.

The alien leaned down to pick up the fallen bike, turning it over in its hands. It ran fingers along the handlebars, tracing the curves with eerie precision, as if mapping the tactile sensation. It swung a leg over the frame and perched on the seat, wobbling, testing Jack’s muscle memory.

“Balance,” it murmured, Jack’s voice sliding out in a flat monotone. It laughed—a rough, stilted sound, wrong in its timing, a parody of human amusement. “Yes… I see.”

Pushing off the ground, it wobbled down the path on the bike. Jack’s legs pumped the pedals, but the motion was awkward, jerky—like a puppet on strings. The alien swerved wildly before crashing into a tree, the bike clattering to the ground. Jack’s body folded over, breath rasping.

The alien cursed—harsh and guttural, Jack’s voice unfamiliar with the word’s weight. “Fuck,” it repeated, tasting the syllable. “Fff—uck.” It stood, brushing dirt from Jack’s clothes, lips twisting in a grotesque approximation of frustration.

Jack’s hands touched his face, exploring the contours. They pinched the skin, tugging at his cheeks, prodding his teeth and lips. It crouched, peering at its reflection in a muddy puddle, eyes narrowing. Jack’s brown irises gleamed briefly with an unnatural black sheen. The alien stared back at itself, enthralled by the power of human expression. It bared Jack’s teeth in a feral grin, then softened the face into a disarming smile — a mask. A predator wearing prey’s skin.

Satisfied, it began walking down the path, mimicking Jack’s gait — stiff at first, but quickly smoothing out into an easy stride. His shoulders rolled, hands tucked into pockets, a picture of nonchalance. But inside, the alien was coiling, studying, learning.

Jack’s memories bled through, images flashing like static: His apartment. His job. Faces of friends. Lovers. Jack’s voice sounded smoother now, more natural. The alien’s grip on his personality was tightening, molding itself to him. It walked faster, more confident, testing boundaries.

It got back on the bike and started cycling back to the city — to Jack’s apartment.

Jack or rather the alien then arrived to the front door of his apartment with the ease of routine. Keys jingled as they hit the counter, his shoes kicked off without care. By this time the alien had absorbed enough of his muscle memory to make the movements seamless — but beneath that facade was something far more deliberate. Every step, every gesture, was driven by a dark curiosity.

Jack’s reflection caught the alien’s attention as it passed the hallway mirror. It stopped. Turned. Stepped closer.

The dim light from the living room cast shadows over his features. Jack’s face stared back, but his expression held none of the warmth or humanity it once had. The alien tilted its head, studying itself.

Slowly, it peeled off Jack’s lycra suit and let it drop to the floor. Jack’s torso was lean, muscles defined but not bulky—a runner’s build. The alien ran its hands over the exposed skin, tracing the faint lines of his ribs, the curve of his collarbone. It pressed its palms flat against his chest, feeling the thrum of a heartbeat beneath.

A grin split Jack’s face, sharp and unsettling. The alien’s fingers drifted lower, under the suit. The lycra slid down his legs, pooling at his feet. He stepped out of it, now standing in nothing but his boxers. The creature inside him admired the form it had claimed.

Jack’s hands—its hands—smoothed over his thighs, up his abdomen, fingers lingering on the taut skin. He flexed his arms, watching muscles ripple beneath the surface. There was fascination in every touch, every exploration of this human vessel.

The boxers came off next, discarded carelessly. Naked, the alien stood before the mirror, basking in its own reflection. It turned, inspecting every angle—the curve of his spine, the lines of his shoulders, the way his body shifted as it moved. Jack’s voice slipped from his lips again, low and slow. “I wear you well.”

Jack's eyes gleamed as he stood fully naked in front of the mirror, admiring every inch of his borrowed body. His hands moved slowly over his chest, down his abs, before settling again around his length, giving himself a slow stroke as he watched his reflection.

"I'm such a fucking hunk," he said, voice dripping with self-satisfaction. His tone was smoother now, the alien perfecting its mimicry of Jack's speech patterns. It smirked, running a hand through his dark hair, flexing his arms and chest.

Every movement dripped with cocky confidence. He gave himself a playful shake, watching his cock sway with a pleased laugh.

"The guys... oh, they're gonna love my cock," he chuckled, lips curling into a devilish grin. "Bet they won't be able to keep their hands off me."

The alien inside reveled in the way the words felt rolling off his tongue, the way the human body responded to touch, to desire. Jack's hands moved with a practiced ease now, sliding along his shaft, squeezing just enough to make his hips twitch.

"Fuck," he moaned as he came, his seed coating the reflection . His brown eyes glinted with hunger, a flash of black rippling through the irises before disappearing. "I get it now. I see why humans are obsessed with this."

He licked his lips, savoring the image in the mirror. "I'm going to have so much fun in this body."

[reveryfics]

Warmth of the sun and a Parasite

Pairings: Eddie Brock & Venom x Male reader

Summary: You wake up sandwiched between Eddie and Venom, neither of which want you to get up

A/n: Back on my Eddie Brock fics. Something short and cute mainly because I'm in a writing block and this is all I can think of. Please send ideas

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The morning sun streamed through the partly opened curtains, casting a warm glow across the sleeping figure. A soft sigh escaped the man's lips as he stirred, trying to stretch and roll over. But his movements were halted. Strong arms, one human and one alien, held him firmly in place.

"Not yet," a familiar voice murmured, a hint of a growl in its tone.

He opened his eyes to find himself trapped between Eddie Brock and the symbiote Venom. Their faces were mere inches from his, a mix of contentment and possessiveness in their gazes.

"Come on, guys," he protested, trying to wriggle free. "I've got stuff to do.”

Eddie chuckled, tightening his grip. "Not today, sweetheart. Today, we cuddle."

Venom, ever the dramatic one, hissed in agreement, his tendrils tightening around the man's waist.

The trio had settled into a comfortable routine. On days when Eddie and him were off, a peculiar dynamic would unfold. The two men, and symbiote each with their own unique quirks, would indulge in a shared sense of camaraderie, often bordering on chaos.

"You two are insufferable," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes as he feigned annoyance. He playfully punched Eddie's chest, a gesture of affection masked by a gruff exterior.

"Hush," the other two replied in unison, their voices blending in harmony. "You love it," Eddie hummed contentedly, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

He chuckled, a sound that was both weary and amused. He attempted to wriggle free from the affectionate grip of his companions, but their hold was firm. The scene was a testament to the deep bond they shared, a bond forged in the crucible of countless battles and shared experiences.

As the morning light danced across their faces, the trio basked in the warmth of their shared affection. The tension of their daily lives seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment. It was a simple pleasure, a quiet moment of intimacy, but it was a moment they cherished.

After a few more moments of playful struggle, the man gave up. He was outnumbered and outmatched. With a resigned sigh, he leaned into the warmth of their embrace. The weight of their bodies pressed against his, a comforting weight that soon lulled him back to sleep.

And so, the three of them drifted off, a trio bound by love and a shared desire for morning cuddles. The morning sun continued to stream through the window, bathing them in its golden light, as they slept peacefully, their dreams filled with the promise of a new day and the comforting presence of their loved ones.

[whimsywilde]

Astarion's Mirror

I couldn't get this out of my head after seeing the idea mentioned somewhere. (A TikTok comment maybe?) I haven't written fanfic since DAI. How am I back at this again? I'm not 100% satisfied with it but if I fiddle too much, I'll lose interest and it will disappear in the WIP folder. lol Enjoy!

Thank you Larian Studios and Neil Newbon for this incredible, beautiful, heartbreaking character!

Recommened Listening: THE FEELS by Labrinth

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

“Astarion…” she paused, hesitating, uncertain if the thought that had just danced across her mind would actually work. Sometimes she forgot he was a vampire. His lack of burning up in the sun tended to put his condition out of her mind. The mirror in his hand, however, had brought it back in stark relief. But… what if?

“As adorable as you are when thinking, I can’t help but feel there was more you wanted to say than just my name.” He smirked at her.

She resisted the urge to fall back into their playful banter. “What if you could see yourself… I mean, sort of.”

“What?” It was more of a whispered plea than a question. “How?”

“I’m not sure if it will work. But, the parasites… they’ve let us see into one another's minds before. It makes sense that we could see more.”

She hadn’t really been looking at him while she spoke, her eyes focused on some invisible point in the distance. Turning her attention more directly to him, his expression caught her off guard. She’d never seen him so vulnerable.

“We don’t have to. I’m not even completely sure it would work. I’ve never really tried to use it before. I just thought….”

“Would you try?” He interrupted, his voice still unnaturally hesitant, absent of the bravado she was used to. “Please.” It was almost an afterthought but may have been the most sincere she’d ever heard him.

She smiled tightly, worried now she’d be unable to connect that way, before closing her eyes and reaching for that alien presence within her mind. She hated the feeling of the cold shiver in her skull as she consciously connected to it and then, taking a breath, eyes tightly shut, reached out to where she felt she’d find Astarion. 

At first the connection was light, barely perceptible, like cobwebs in the breeze. After focusing on it for a few seconds, reaching out to it with uncertain hands, it seemed to expand. With her eyes still tightly closed, it was the tide of emotions slowly rolling up in the shore of her mind that hit her first. The anticipation, hopeful expectation, fear and worry. She resisted the urge to retreat from the intensity of his feelings and the jumbled, wordless thoughts that came with them and, again, focused past them. After several seconds, she was surprised to suddenly find herself looking through Astarion’s eyes at herself. She stilled to allow the image of herself solidify in her mind. 

Her eyes opened slowly. She allowed her gaze to linger near Astarion’s feet as gained confidence in the connection. The impatience he was feeling rushed to greet her through the bond.

“Look at me.” It was something between a command and a plea.

She opened her mind to him as completely as she could, wanting him to know that she had no motivations behind her actions and lingering gaze other than to allow him to see himself clearly, to be a mirror. She took a deep breath, centered herself and began to slowly lift her eyes up his body. Her gaze was gentle and curious, more that of an artist studying their work, rather than the lusty intensity of a lover. She followed the narrow slope of his hips up his chest and across his shoulders, her eyes lingering for mere moments before moving on. As she reached his neck, there was a brief glance to the scars that had made him the creature he was, before following his perfectly coiffed hair around his face. 

Part of her still wanted to tease him, to play. They’d been having fun, taken next to nothing seriously while they traveled and fought together. Even when she allowed him to drink from her, always standing since him hovering over her had felt too intimate, she typically pushed him away afterward with a joke on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes. It was easy and had been so natural to keep him just close enough without letting him in. The intensity of his feelings pouring into her now was more than she bargained for and she had a moment of regret for offering to even try. She didn’t want to feel so much. It left her vulnerable. Opened her up to much more than she wanted to be aware of. Her eyes had frozen at the base of his throat. Why couldn’t she bring herself to look up? She didn’t like the answers her heart was trying to give. His fingers curled lightly under her chin, lifting her face upward, pulled her attention back. 

Her eyes snapped up to his suddenly and he gasped. The light from the campfire flickered and flashed across brilliant crimson. My eyes. Those are my eyes. His thoughts came through their link in sharp clarity. Her attention refocused on allowing him to see his face after so long in the dark and allowed the intensity of what he was feeling to drown out her own heart. She didn’t need to exist for this moment. She was giving this gift and she allowed herself to fall back within to the place of an observer. With her surrender, it allowed him to direct her eyes across his features. He took himself in fully and they stood in hushed stillness, eyes and minds locked together. 

With their minds so fully blended, she almost didn’t notice her hand absentmindedly reaching out to rest lightly on the side of his face. He didn’t pull away. She used her thumb to pull gently at his bottom lip, exposing his fangs to her gaze. 

They passed several seconds that way before her hand dropped, her vision swirling and darkening. She felt her body sway heavily and would have fallen if Astarion hadn’t caught her. Her head was pounding while her stomach churned. She sent up a silent prayer, to whatever god may be listening, that she wouldn’t vomit.

Astarion supported her body against his gently. When she tried to push away from him, he lifted her carefully and carried her to her tent, laying her down on her bedroll. 

“You pushed yourself too far. You need to rest,” he scolded. She wanted to protest; to throw out some snarky remark in an attempt to catch him off guard so that they could go back to the superficial game they shared, but she couldn’t seem to measure out enough strength to respond. Sleep was quickly overtaking her. She was never sure if he’d actually turned to look at her before leaving the tent and whispered a strangled thank you or if it was just part of the fevered dreams of the night.

[8um8le]

So the earth is infested with hostile aliens, Humans migrated to a megastructure that could house millions, a bishop ring (not sure what name to give it yet hahah) as humanity’s attempt to preserve itself

They still have to fight off the parasite-like aliens from trying to destroy their new home too. These three contribute to the task force of defending humanity, their days consist of endless hours exterminating aliens, and are sent to search earth for survivors and bring them back to the bishop ring.

Moon isn’t a big fan of his job, feels it’s boring being pest control, and has a secret resentment towards humans for their lack of gratitude for their work, and how their seen more like simple weapons than actual individuals.

Sun enjoys his job, he tries to convince himself he is doing good, that he’s saving people by doing what he does. He sees the humans as weak little specimens that deserve protecting.

[francesderwent]

My 25 Most Reread Books

an updated list with correct answers

Queen’s Thief series, Megan Whalen Turner. (started reading it. had a breakdown. been rereading it non-stop ever since) guessed by @contagiousgrace

Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. (infinitely rereadable blueprint for life love and everything) guessed by @contagiousgrace

Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett. (phonetically spelled accents are your friend) guessed by @contagiousgrace

Two Princesses of Bamarre, by Gail Carson Levine. (sisterful) guessed by @scrunchie-face

Sorcery and Cecelia, by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer (epistolary) guessed by @lovesodeepandwideandwell

The Hero and the Crown, by Robin McKinley. (here there be dragons) guessed by @cakeyouareoh and @drharleyquinn-medicinewoman

The Black Stallion, by Walter Farley. (the entirety of my horse girl phase) guessed by @iamfitzwilliamdarcy

The Goose Girl, by Shannon Hale. (fairy tale retelling) guessed by @contagiousgrace

Alanna: The First Adventure & the Tortall series, by Tamora Pierce. (second wave feminism fantasy) guessed by @cakeyouareoh

Discworld series, by Terry Pratchett. (sprawling) guessed by @sparrowposting

The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien. (the road to hell is paved with my good intentions to reread the sequels) guessed by Maria @itspileofgoodthings

Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card. (only sci-fi on the list) guessed by @cakeyouareoh

The Raven Cycle, by Maggie Stiefvater. (infects you with an unkillable parasite which requires rereading once a year) guessed by @leyezahmae

Folk of the Air trilogy, by Holly Black. (it’s trash but it’s pure fairy story) guessed by @iamfitzwilliamdarcy

Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow, by Jessica Day George. (fairy tale retelling) guessed by @imissthembutitwasntadisaster

Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott (more sisterful) guessed by @scrunchie-face

Inkheart, by Cornelia Funke (oh no we’ve been captured…again) guessed by a lot of people!

The BFG, by Roald Dahl. (personal favorite from classic children’s author) guessed by @iamfitzwilliamdarcy

Spinning Silver, by Naomi Novik. (fairy tale retelling) guessed by @sparrowposting

Flip, by David Lubar. (technically might be sci fi actually. aliens and history and high school) guessed by @recalcitrantlycaffeinated

Macdonald Hall series by Gordon Korman. (Canadian pranks) guessed by @cakeyouareoh

A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeleine L’Engle (shit is this sci fi too damn it) guessed by @tapferhills

Warrior Heir & Wizard Heir, by Cinda Williams Chima. (everyone knows there are three types of boy: fighty magic and slut) guessed by @iamfitzwilliamdarcy and @lovesodeepandwideandwell

The Hunger Games trilogy, by Suzanne Collins. (recently re-obsessed) guessed by @contagiousgrace

The Penderwicks series, by Jeanne Birdsall (even more sisterful) guessed by @casa-anachar and @peregreen

[captainmalewriter]

All Uri wanted was to take a little vacation in the beautiful land of Singapore. He had planned to spend his first day of vacation near the ocean. Uri had arrived at the beach and immediately marveled at the crystal blue waters. He also noticed that although he had gone to a popular tourist beach, there was nobody there. Aside from two- maybe three other people walking by, Uri was all alone. Not that he truly minded it. He was more than happy to spend a quiet day at the beach, tanning his smooth, pale body under the blazing sun while listening to the waves of the ocean.

But while Uri was enjoying his beach day, there was an ongoing nationwide crisis. All of Singapore's beaches had been closed away from the general public due to a parasite outbreak. The parasites were of an unknown species. They loved using humans as their vessels and for some strange reason, their host's body grows bigger and hairier when they take over a vessel. The news never reached Uri due to the language barrier. Uri was right in the belly in the beast as he laid asleep on the warm beach sand. It was too late for him.

As Uri slept, several worms began crawling out of the sand, aroused by the scent of his male pheromones. The parasites varied in size. Some of them were no bigger than a grain of sand while others were as big as a cucumber. All of the worms slithered towards Uri.

The smaller parasites charged ahead first. They crawled up Uri's legs and towards his groin area. They then started slithering down Uri's soft cock through the slit. The worms invaded his hardening one by one and as they did so, Uri squirmed and groaned sensually due to the sensations. He flipped over, which gave the larger parasites easy access to his ass. The worms slithered over to his virgin asshole and began pushing their way inside, stretching his tight rectum as they went up Uri's body. Uri was thrashing around and moaning loudly as the worms continued their invasion over his body. His body inflated and fattened until he had a stocky build. Black hair also began growing in spurts all over his body. By the time the worms were finished, Uri was no longer a smooth twink but a hairy cub. Uri opened his eyes and smiled, unaware he had become the host for a colony of alien parasites.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Happy Groundhog Day! I think it is so wonderful that there is an entire holiday dedicated to a specific burrowing rodent. Americans love this thing! And who wouldn't? Their burrows aerate soil, and provide homes for many other critters!

A lot of people wouldn't love the groundhog, actually. In 1883, the New Hampshire Legislative Woodchuck Committee put out a statement calling groundhogs "wayward sinners" whose grooming habits suggest good manners, but who in reality have "not made any material progress in social science". You think the Discourse is bad today? They used to form committees to complain about a squirrel's moral character!

However, this is not the extent of the disrespect toward groundhogs. It happens to this day, and we all take it for granted, and most don't even bother to realize it has to do with a marmot in the first place! Let's talk about...

Name: "Mole"

Debut: Whac-A-Mole

Sorry this picture is not very good. There are just not many pictures available that show that weird old "mole" figure that I have in mind specifically! Here's a green one.

Anyone familiar with the "Mole" series of animals will know that this is very much Not A Mole! The distinct head, the visible ears, the blunt nose, the buckteeth... this, my friend, is 100% Ground Squirrel! And this game is FAR from the only instance of moles and burrowing rodents being mixed up.

It actually makes sense that this mistake would happen, though! Moles are synonymous with burrowing, to the point unrelated burrowing animals are named after moles (including Mole Cricket, perhaps the ORIGINAL mole). But moles spend ALL their time burrowing, rarely if ever coming to the surface, so even though we all know moles, we are rarely blessed with SEEING moles. I have never seen a mole in person... yet! I would love to! Ground squirrels, such as groundhogs and prairie dogs, are also little burrowing critters, but these ones are commonly seen on the surface, ever alert. I think it's reasonable to mistake them for "moles"!

Alas, the popularity of Whac-A-Mole has cemented Ground Squirrel as essentially the "canon" Mole design for this context. And what a context that is! A classic, even GENRE-DEFINING game, all about whacking critters as they emerge from their burrows. So rude! They're not posing any danger, and the player isn't hunting them to eat, either. This is simply a game of spite. How DARE that rodent try to see the sun! This is just like Undertale.

Whac-A-Mole is one of the most straightforward types of game for any device with a touch screen or anything similar. Just gotta tap a thing! Very easy. This has led to such variations such as Whack-a-Monty from New Super Mario Bros., where the player bonks Monty Moles (more like Monty Gopher am I right) while sparing the many, many Luigis. Obviously, the Luigis must surface in order to initiate courtship, ensuring future generations of Luigis.

Now that I think of it, Mario is one of the only times I've seen the ethics of Whac-A-Mole called out, through the endangered Whacka from Paper Mario! I'm surprised the genre is not deconstructed more often (I love that this sentence is about Whac-A-Mole).

I think this is where I will end the post, because this silly game has so permeated human culture that I could go on and on and on! So strange that an entire animal now has a reputation of "pops out and gets bonked on the head". Conceptually, I certainly prefer the "parasitic aliens emerging from an astronaut's body orifices" aesthetic for this kind of game, but obviously kids aren't going out and bludgeoning real rodents because of this game, so whatever.

But still, what if instead of moles, the whacked entities were something humans have no problem attacking with a second thought...?

Get ready for an action-packed new game set in the Bowling universe!

[aenor-llelo]

I've only ever written love stories but the thing you have to understand is that to Me Specifically love is not a romance, it's a genre of eldritch, irrevocably religious horror.

love is an alien. love is humanity. love is a parasite. love is everything, love is terror. love is the most radical, most spiritual, most mindlessly fucking insane thing to think about for more than five seconds, it is a monstrous birth on this earth. holy and sacrilegious all at once. to love and be loved, to birth and be born, to eat and be eaten, to worship and be worshipped, to kill and be killed, to rebel and be rebelled,

my son MY SUN my brother MY MURDERER my lover MY HUNTER my friend MY ALTAR my lord MY ANGEL my shield MY SWORD

it's all chance

it's all chemicals

it's taking the most beautiful thing you've ever seen and dashing it against the ground to see how it bleeds

it's killing anyone who stops you from trying.

I will only write love stories as I know to love humanity and if that sounds like a threat it is, I am going to tear

the

HEART

out of you

so be loved, beloved, be loved still. the story doesn't stop til the blood runs out.

[alienpossession]

Who would have thought that something could survive in this desert? This young biologist studying the desert could not exactly imagine that a new species would come to him in the afternoon when he decided to sunbathe. He felt in this desert like a fish in water, just like a parasite, although there was no water around.

As he dozed under the hot sun, the sand near his head began to shudder, something like a snake crawling under him. The sand was pouring, but the biologist did not care, a strange noise of sand movement was heard here all the time.

By the time the parasite jumped onto his muscular chest and grabbed his head with tentacles, it was already too late. The guy waved his arms like a swimmer without air, but in his hands there was only sand. His mouth widened against his will, something entered, scratching his throat and robbing him of air. He rolled on the hot sand, his body and face flushed as he tried to grab the slippery body actively cramming itself inside him. In the slime-covered palms, only sand stuck to it. The head arched back and the body rose as if possessed, uncontrollable hands flailing up and down in a desperate attempt to resist. A second later, he again plopped down on the sand and fell silent. The fingers on the hand clenched and straightened, the arms arched, and the body opened its eyes again. The sensations were new, he could feel the strength and heat spreading through his new body parts. The heat was coming from everywhere, and although the body was overheated and barely able to cope with the temperature, he lifted it up without much trouble and stood barefoot on the sand. He was practically standing on the coals and could feel his feet being baked, but he didn't care. Brain scans showed that there are still a lot of such bodies around. He spread his arms out to the sides, feeling the sun's rays warm him from all sides.

The biologist's mind was switched off from overheating, but the parasite was strong and the body was under its control.

The sunset prevented him from staying longer, he watched the orange circle disappear over the horizon, knowing that a new day would follow.

The staggering body climbed back into the tent and passed out, in the morning the parasite forced him to drink all the remaining water and move on. He walked like a ghost in the desert, nothing could stop him. His body darkened with a tan, his weather-beaten lips turned yellow and dry, but he kept walking.

The sandstorm scratched the withered body to the blood, but he walked. Someone else's inexorable desire moved him against his weakened and suppressed will. He felt something alien growing inside him, but he couldn't do anything about it. The slow trembling body looked much worse when he reached the first settlement.

Luckily, the first body he came across was another muscular young man.

When the process was completed, the body of the biologist was left lying on the sand, and the parasite moved on. He again felt strength and heat in himself, and thought that he definitely liked fresh human bodies and the parasite is ready to feast on more human bodies to control and to use

Note: This is a story submitted anonymously with additional pictures (the last two) from me

[pursuitseternal]

“Tempting:” nsfw update to “Our Blood is Thicker:” ETL Astarion x Tav (OC)

Astarion x Fem OC | E | 5.2 K Astarbation and longing

Summary: Bloody from their battle, Cordehlia tales her party across the river, to wash away their scent and to wash away the stains of her violence. And while she wishes to bathe, Astarion has other ideas. Other, more tempting, ideas.

CW: Astarbation, romantic voyeurism, caught with his hand down his pants literally, lost memories recovered, shared night watch with feelings, trauma dumping (mutual), hurt comfort, ear stroking, How To Pet Your Angsty Vampire ™️

Previous Chapter | AO 3 | Astarion Masterlist

Chapter 3: Tempting…

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“Who knew you were so bloodthirsty?” Astarion purred as the party paused to catch their breath and clean their weapons.

There was no more threat. And it felt good for him to be free, to be spattered from the fruits of his labor. Well her labor too. He looked at her glorious form. Her pale skin was blood spattered and sticky. Her chest heaved under that light armor, but she knelt by the monster hunter’s body, praying for his speedy passage from this life. However misguided it may have been.

Cordehlia gazed at her hands, red and tacky as she tried to wipe them in the dead grass. “It isn’t a thirst for blood. When you’ve battled as many armies as I have… when you have made it to victory by the sheer force of your will, you learn to try to find some sort of…”

“Pleasure?” Astarion guessed.

“Healing?” Gale offered at the same time.

The she-elf’s lips quirked at their replies. “Both I suppose.” She avoided the wizard’s eyes. He looked so… concerned, worried.

“I’m sure your battle-wisdom saw the Gur’s death as the only solution,” Gale whispered, bending down to crouch near her, wiping his own bloodied hands on the grass, even if he had seen little blood against the Gur. “I worry though, if your… attachment to the vampire can influence your choices.”

She gave a smirk. “Of course he’s an influence,” she chided, a bit defiantly. “But as are you all. I haven’t stained my hands for centuries with the blood of Orcs, Humans, Sorcerers, and Aliens to ignore the lesson of never abandoning one of your own. And besides, Astarion is not a monster…” she spat the last words. As if the allegation were aimed at her… perhaps it was. Perhaps her pride bore the wounds from long ago, from giving so much to someone who… she shuddered to think of it more.

“It is reassuring to hear of such fierce loyalty,” Gale grinned. “I’d like to think you would do that same for me… for all of us.”

“Of course,” she nodded, a hint of gravity to her tone. “Now, perhaps we get away from the stink of bloodshed and make camp, I’m sure I’m not the only one starving and needing to bathe.”

“There is a narrow river nearby,” Shadowheart joined in. “Good for both washing and losing the stink of blood.”

“Good work,” Cordehlia smiled. “Lead the way then.”

The cleric smiled, heading deeper into the trees.

They moved quickly, pausing only once they heard the soft rushing of water. It was easy to cross, shallow and narrow and clear in the faint sun. But Cordehlia couldn’t help but notice Astarion’s hesitation before planting his feet in the running water.

Hesitation that melted to joy the instant he stepped in. He was… elated. Giddy. Speeding in his stride to join at Cordehlia’s side.

“You seem happy,” she smiled.

“Another gift of the parasite, it would seem,” he crowed. “It doesn't burn like hellfire. I haven’t stepped into a river since… well,” he looked at her from the corner of his crimson eyes, flashing his fangs down at her. “You know.”

“More than you probably do,” she gave him a sad smile. “You loved the water.”

He fell silent, nothing but the sounds of the water’s gurgle and the splashes they made trudging to the opposite bank. The forest was dense, thick, leafy bushes, wide-trunked oaks, so lush and fertile and green.

It made Cordehlia long for home.

It made the longing in her heart for her past all that more painful.

Numbness crept around her, making her skin itch with her victim’s blood. Making her soul crawl with shame at … the monster she had become. Her cheeks burned, every word the wizard had whispered at her… he knew. He saw it in her soul, and Astarion only drew that creature out to play all the more.

The reflection of the same temperamental, vicious, thirsty beast that clawed beneath her skin. For the good of her kind, she had fought. For protection, freedom, for a land of their own again where they could dwell in the light and dance beneath the stars.

It had been… selfless, she had thought, becoming a fighter, a commander, skilled with the blade and graced with the wisdom of her years.

But as she watched Astarion lingering with his boots in the rushing waters of the river, a wide smile on his face as he watched the foaming bubbles swirl at his feet… her heart tore in her chest. Aching.

Being a vampire didn’t make him a monster.

Not any more than being blinded by rash judgments made her.

He hadn't chosen his fate. But she… she did. To escape the pain and grief and loss.

And as she looked at her blood spattered hands, her stomach soured. “Don’t you have anything better to do, Astarion?” She snipped at him.

His giddiness irritated her. Infuriated her. And he rounded with that coy, insufferable smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he purred back loudly, “what, too many clothes on for a romp in the river for you? I’d be happy to shed a few layers if you wish to join me…”

He plodded up the bank, stopping short. He threw of that heavy doublet, letting it land gods knew where.

Hells, his shirt was soaked. Sweat or river water, it didn’t matter. It was sheer, clinging to the rises of his chest, every definition of his hard stomach….

But she was not in the mood. “Go be helpful, you rake. I need to bathe,” she snapped, pointing in the direction of the others, where the sounds of chatter and clattered chests and unpacking echoed.

“Alone?” he crooned, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“Yes,” she bit, roughly unclasping the buckles of her armor from her chest to toss away as well. “Gods, yes alone.”

“If that is what you wish,” he purred, eyes sweeping over her own bloodstained chemise. That crimson gaze paused where she felt it stickiest, where it hugged her hips and clung to her breasts. “But since we are alone, it seems… Perhaps you might allow me a bite?”

“What?”

“Just a little, it was so taxing, that fight. You know he wanted me dead… it is a miracle I’m still standing, you know….” Oh how his voice dripped with the honey of manipulation. That sweet edge of guilt softening his ask. “A little of your blood goes a long way for me, you know. And as a spawn,” his teeth flashed, that leering smirk that made her hot in places she wished it wouldn’t, “I’m always, always hungry.”

She hissed a breath, exasperated. “Be quick,” she shushed.

He was quick. Quick to hold her to him with a single arm around her back, hand pressing just above the rise of her ass. The other cradled her chin, turning her perfectly, so softly with a caress of his fingers before he sliced those razored fangs into her neck.

She shook, breath catching and not in just pain. It was still so wonderful, her body stretched and pressed against his. Missing the way it had always felt against her flesh. Hard where she was soft. Tall where she was shorter. Lithe where she was sturdy.

And before she had wished for its ending, he pulled away, licking his lips of her blood. “Just as delicious. I doubt I will ever tire of tasting you, my darling Cordehlia.”

“Leave,” she hissed, wiping her hand over the red wetness that trickled down her neck. “Please,” she added as a single tweak of hurt twisted his brow. As if he really had meant what he said. As if she spurned something that was true. “I feel disgusting. The sooner I wash, the sooner I’ll feel more inclined to a… delightful disposition, I’m sure.”

“You look far from disgusting,” he smiled softly, his eyes losing that lurid sharpness. “Blood spattered… heart racing with the thrill of the hunt… a hint of excitement to have me near, I would even guess. It made you taste all the more wonderful.”

“Please leave…” she sighed. Tired. Her hands fumbling with the rest of the pieces of her armor.

“As you wish, my darling,” he nodded, the tones of a perfect gentleman in his voice, as he turned to head up the bank. Pausing only to grab his coat from the ground before heading into the thick forest.

But there was more than mere reluctance that seemed to compel him to stay.

It was her.

And now, with her blood in his belly, coursing with its fire and flavor and passion in his veins. He throbbed.

In a way he didn’t remember experiencing.

He stopped behind the foliage. Frozen by the sounds of splashing in the river.

And that throbbing grew worse. Lower… prominent. Hard.

Just like last night. The only other time he felt this. That blessing of consuming living blood for once. Her blood rushing right through his muscles, hardening his cock with need. He had been determined to ignore it last night in the dark, his belly too hungry for thoughts of sex or self pleasure. Only thoughts for more blood to fill him.

But now, he wasn’t so distracted. Not from the sweet splashing of water as she swam so close.

Those sounds were… tempting. She was tempting.

For once, he wasn’t hard because he had to be. Wasn’t compelled to seduce or flirt for any reason other than he wanted something.

Someone.

He stopped, crouching into the greenery, slipping soundlessless to the edge of the water. It was so easy. So tempting.

Why not indulge… why not let himself find pleasure for once for himself. Not for his master.

The river was so close, the ripples lapping the shore even at this distance from their source.

From where she rose from its surface. Her skin so pale, hair darkened and wet. One knee into the earth, he crouched with all his stealth and felt his cock pulsing. As if her blood was calling back to its mistress.

By the hells… he had never wanted anything more.

It would be so easy still, just a few laces holding him in where he was so well concealed.

Fuck it, he decided. Fuck it, if he couldn’t fuck her.

And she was so enticing. And frustrating. So stubborn and soft and defensive of him and accusatory of him. All of it. It made his teeth set on edge, made his muscles long to push her against the nearest tree again. To put a blade to her throat or sheath his cock between her legs, he didn’t know which drive was stronger.

But it didn’t matter right now. He could finally do something for himself.

And what was the harm… he would bring her under his charms soon enough. It was what he did best.

Gods… he twitched the second his fingers gripped around his own cock. A spasm of pleasure rippling right to his groin. It would take long, he chuckled to himself as he slowly stroked up and down. Palming the seeping seed from its head, he spread it around a bit. This would be rough, but he couldn’t remember the last time he sought his own pleasure.

This was long overdue.

That’s it… he groaned, watching her slowly rise from the river, watching the water droplets trickling over her pert breasts, running like a stream between them as she stood. He grit his teeth and beat faster. Jealous of the water.

She rinsed her hair, fluffing it to catch in the beams of sun. If she wasn’t a nymph… a goddess of the waters herself the way she moved just as fluidly, as elegantly. He closed his eyes, pressing that image into his mind forever.

Her creamy skin and fiery hair… the thrill of having watched her for so long… of finally seeing more of what laid beneath the cursed swatches of fabrics and yards of gowns that clung to her curves. She was so close, he could hear her breathe… if he strained his hearing. Hoping he was far enough away that the water splashes would hide the dry rubbing of his cock in his fist… He would promise a million lifetimes just to make her his. His for a million lifetimes…

He was close, that tug of climax digging at his groin as he watched her bathing.

Until he heard the sound of boots too close.

Astarion gasped, his cum spilling into the dirt, his cock pulsing and twitching as more seed dripped and shot before him. So good… so very good. He couldn’t remember when he last felt so… happy. Sated.

And then, he gasped again as the cool kiss of a blade caught along his jaw.

“What’s this… a rogue caught sneaking?” Cordehlia hummed in amusement, drawing around from behind where he crept in the undergrowth.

Astarion laughed, low, quiet and tired. “Don’t tell me you’re not flattered, darling…” He glanced to how his cock still stood proudly in front of him. Long and pale and achingly hard in his hand. “…tell me you’re not impressed.”

“Impressed to find my rogue caught literally with his hand down his pants?” She scoffed, “please.”

He looked her up and down as he began shoving it back inside the band of his breeches. That dirty tunic of hers was haphazard, hastily thrown on. And nothing else, he noted with a pang in his groin again. Her mouth may be turned down at the corners, but he watched her pulse in her neck race, observed how her eyes dilated as she looked him over as well. “My my, Cordehlia,” he purred, standing from the ground, arching a single brow, his voice twisting in mischief as well as his mouth. “You’ve seen this before haven’t you?”

She smiled. The minx smiled, casting her eyes away as she resheathed her blade. “A lady doesn’t speak of such things, Astarion.”

“Ah, but you are no lady…” his smirk flashed to show his teeth, “least ways not for me, isn’t that right?”

“You know,” she chimed, clearly changing the subject. “You’re not as creative as you might think.” She just kept smiling like a fool. Swallowing a laugh. Like this was terribly funny. “I suppose you don’t remember,” she giggled. “But this isn’t the first time you have been caught with your weapon out watching me down by a river….”

Those images… she had looked so young… and he… he felt the same. When he had heard the sound of boots in the grass behind him… “Something strangely similar, no coincidence if it happened twice,” he crooned. Her smile faded as she looked into his eyes. “But… wasn’t it your father that caught me last time? I see you’re just carrying on your family legacy.” He smirked as he stood to square his body, daring a step to close the distance between them. “Unless there was something else you were just too tempted not to see…”

He leaned in, creeping in on her, close enough to glance down the collar of that wet chemise. “So, my sweet, what happens next?” He murmured, tempted to wrap his arms around her, to pull her flush against him where she could feel how she still made him hard. And he wasn’t so sure if it was only because of her blood in his body.

“Next?” she hummed, crossing her arms over those pert breasts. “For us?”

“You read my mind…”

“Oh, that’s simple,” she crooned, arching back slightly to look right up into his face. Her lips pouted, her eyes batting those long lashes at his smirking, arrogant, conceited grin. “We go to camp and finish helping, and then you are taking first watch since you haven’t lifted a finger helping in the slightest.”

“B-but...” he sputtered, a whine in his voice as she turned and began to walk away. “I do need rest too,” he fairly whimpered.

“I understand,” she threw a grin over her shoulder, finally breaking back from the forest onto the path. “Which is why I will rest first and come relieve you tonight.”

That’s when she reached the rest of her discarded clothing and armor. Astarion held his breath, watching as she bent over to pick it up from the ground.

“Sweet hells,” he sighed. That hem of her shirt sliding up the backs of her thighs, barely covering the swell of her ass, teasing around what laid between her legs. He forced himself to look away. Not for her sake. For his. One second longer, and he was sure something would be staining the insides of his trousers with cum.

And all he could do was keep his eyes on the grass and listen to her soft giggle as they kept moving.

—————-

Night was quiet, even if the evening had been eventful. Another member of the party appeared out of nowhere. A human warlock come for one of her own, but with her charm and her persuasion and her insight, Cordelia managed to convince the newcomer, Wyll, not to return to his mistress with Karlach’s head in hand.

And now, the Blade of Frontiers had joined the company. One more mouth to feed, Gale had grumbled, lightheartedly, but still a little grieved.

Of course, Astarion had been quick to point out that he didn’t count, of course. A joke that sent everyone giggling nervously, no one more than Cordehlia who avoided the heated look he flashed at her through the mirth. But aside from that near little slip up, he had not made any mention of their agreement. Instead he made a big show of heading out to hunt before his turn at first watch.

By a little after nightfall, as the rest of the party began milling towards their beds, he returned. And not empty handed. With a smile, he handed a pair of rabbits to Gale, some whispered something of a joke that made the wizard laugh quietly.

An unfamiliar sight. An unusual exchange.

And then he sauntered over before where she sat on her bedroll by the fire. “You look so deliciously surprised. You know, I can do something thoughtful from time to time.”

“I knew that,” she taunted in reply. “I just didn’t know if you did.”

He giggled. High pitched and bubbly.

At once, the sound filled her heart with joy. And pain. “I’ll relieve you soon,” she cleared her throat, sliding her legs into the warmth of her bed. “Don’t get yourself… or us… into any trouble.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He withdrew a single step before he paused again. “You know, you don’t have to sleep out here, if you do not wish it.”

She said nothing, turning her back towards him as she rolled onto her side.

“I have a perfectly good tent, comfortable, luxurious even in comparison, you would be more than welcome to occupy.”

Still nothing from her.

“After all, if we are sharing watches, it would only make sense to share more than just a duty. It’s not like I would be there with you while you slept...”

“Good night, Astarion,” she replied. Conversation ended.

He sighed. Continuing on his way back towards that aforementioned tent. And soon, Cordehlia fell into that less-than-restful sleep.

She woke to darkness, a night thick and starless. The fire still crackled, but it seemed faint. Weak.

Soft.

Stretching out her aching legs, her sore back, she slipped from her bed. Finding him at the edge of camp, perched comfortably on the pillows that he had set in the entryway of his tent. His mouth turned softly as she drew before him. A smile as she approached. “Cordehlia,” he whispered her name.

“You better rest,” came her terse reply.

“When there are so many other wonderfully tempting things to do in the dark, my sweet?” he purred, patting the cushion beside him. Beckoning her to sit.

Cordehlia bit her lip. Gods, after sleeping on the earth, if a pillow under her ass didn’t make her body cry and make her mouth water. Carefully, slowly, she sat. Giving enough space between them.

“Nice to see you do indulge yourself from time to time,” he whispered, sliding his body to view her. Simultaneously closing that distance between them just a bit. “I doubt I shall rest for an hour at least,” he drew closer as he spoke. His breath cold on her neck. “Any suggestions for how to pass the time?”

She twisted to face him.

Oh, mistake.

She thought herself ready for something like this, but… the way his hair shimmered in the distant firelight, the way those full lips of his parted and tweaked in the gentlest of smiles…. The way he was so very, very close.

She wasn’t at all stealed over in body, heart, or soul for such a feat as this. She closed her eyes, shutting them firmly as he gave her that soft, low giggle.

Not helping.

“Talk,” she cleared her throat, “ahem. We could talk. Or you could ask me questions of what was from … before.”

Her eyes opened to see him withdrawn. Those hard lines returning to his face, his shoulders stiff and squared as he gazed into the dark behind her.

“I suppose it would help you to know more… given that I’ve already had one monster hunter sent on my trail. I’m sure my old master will be relentless…” then he fixed the intensity of his eyes into hers.

Fear.

Loathing.

Panic.

“Cazador won't stop until he has me back.”

She froze. Careful not to fidget. And yet, he trembled. Eyes wide and voice pressed with rage.

“Of course he would send the Gur after me… that was why I… died. The case that would launch me into power and fame and rise to popularity. Banishing them from the city, making them keep their kind beyond all the walls of Baldur’s Gate, as far as my jurisdiction would allow. That night, I was attacked. Beaten. Left to die in the streets.”

It was Cordehlia that now shivered. The chill of death seemed to steal over her heart as she listened. It was… worse than she had ever imagined. The facts of his death, those she had found all those centuries ago. But this…

“That’s when… he found me. Cazador Szarr… he offered me eternal life, to keep me from bleeding out in the sewer of the street. Little did I know just how long eternity would be as his spawn.”

He fell silent. Chest heaving, throat choking as he tried to swallow. Then he began to shake.

“Shh, Astarion,” she instantly reached for him. As she had a thousand times in their lives.

But he hissed, flinching. “Don’t,” he panted. “Don’t touch me.” His voice little more than a hiss. “Not now… not right now…”

“It’s alright,” she poured her low, soothing voice over him instead. “I’m here,” that made him look up at last. “You’re here…”

His eyes were wide. Wet. Gods, what had they done to him.

“Shhh…” she cajoled again. “If you let me, there was always one thing I could do to help you when… you would feel like this.”

My love. Her heart wanted to add.

He still shook, but he managed a nod. “Gently,” he pleaded.

“There was never another way between us before, Astarion,” she whispered. Slowly she raised her hand, letting her fingers, lighter than air, trace their touch behind his ear. The soft pads of her fingers rubbed over that pointed edge of his ear, softly held between her thumb and finger.

Instantly he stilled. His shaking ceased. His shivers dissipated. Her touch was warm, calming and tender as she caressed his ear.

Slowly.

Lovingly.

His mouth hung open but no words came out. They just couldn’t.

“I can’t even recall how many times you would be worked into a frenzy… by your parents… by my parents… by your overwhelming need to be praised…” she continued quietly, her voice ringing with remembrance. Those soft memories that she had buried deep inside her, finally sliding out as she whispered them for his ears alone. “I tried it once, when you were…” she swallowed, the edge of pain now in her throat as he watched the same contorting her beauty, “when you were resting your head in my lap…”

His eyes flickered, that same sultry fire returning behind their crimson color.

Holding her breath, he did what she most feared… lowering those thick, unruly curls over her thighs.

That same weight pressed into her lap, that same comforting heaviness his body always gave her. Her hands continued to play around his ear, twirling and stroking into his hair.

The night breeze around them… the faint flicker of firelight… if it weren’t for the chill of undeath on his skin, the lack of pulse in his neck as he laid on her legs… she could close her eyes, savoring the balm of him. As if no time had passed. As if they both hadn’t bloodied their hands and dived into the darkness.

He rolled onto his back, eyes closed, breath steady. And her hands couldn’t help but to share the same soothing attentions to both sides of his devastatingly handsome face.

“I…” he started before swallowing. “We…” he tried again, almost pushing back against the way her hands caressed into his hair. But the spell was broken, having worked its charms. He sat up, those eyes narrowed again, peering at her with that pretense of rakish flirtation. “You’re full of surprises aren’t you?”

Her mouth twitched. As if she had a million flirtatious things to reply. But instead she just patted him on his cheek and smiled slightly. “You really should be getting some rest, our kind does still need some sort of …”

He caught her hand in his, his fingers gripping her firmly, keeping her body close to his. Crimson eyes scanned over her, heavy-lidded and lustful. “Resting at night is still such a novelty. Creatures of the dark aren’t used to… resting after sunset.”

Cordehlia smiled, carefully trying to slip from his grasp. But he held tight. She hummed, a nervous smile on her mouth. “Then indulge me and try it. I need you strong come dawn. Druids and Tieflings will abound, and I’ll need a rogue who is sharp in his mind and strong in body.”

His smirk widened, predatory and bright as she held her breath to see those fangs so close. “If you wanted me truly strong you would offer me more than just rest,” he rasped, gaze flickering where her pulse raged in her veins.

She swallowed, “More blood? What was earlier then?”

“Oh that? That was just a little treat… from my little treat,” he leaned closer, his breath so close she could feel it inhaling the skin of her neck.

“You are insufferable.”

His body went rigid, every muscle taught as he barely brushed against her arm, her shoulder. “Well, since I can’t be inside you, darling, the least we can do is for you to be inside me….”

Gods, her belly dropped to her knees, every nerve inside her catching fire and melting, pooling her desire to gather between her thighs.

“I don’t think I’m quite recovered from earlier,” she managed to reply. Only to feel a small, cool bottle shoved into the hand he still held. “What’s this?”

“You know your potions, She-elf,” he chuckled as she looking at the faintly glowing ruby liquid. “Nicked a potion of healing off the Gur’s body.” His brow arched, adding just that little darker edge of wickedness to his leer. “Can’t say I won’t take care of my treat…”

She opened it, instantly swallowing it down. Instantly feeling that hazy ache in her head clearing from his continued feeding.

Only to have him pull her flush against his chest, to have him place a gentle kiss on the bend in her neck before slicing into it with his fangs.

She groaned, subtle, letting her body arch against his, letting his hands cradle the back of her head, fingers knitted into her hair. Her eyes fluttered shut, her mind swept away by the feeling of his lips on her skin, the press of his body against her breasts, and then there was that new sensation. The dripping, pulsing of her blood as he swallowed her down, the way she could feel how her essence fed him. Strengthened him. Sated him. Pleased him.

She groaned again, this time she just couldn’t hold back the sound of how much she enjoyed this. It was… lewd. Pleasured. And instantly, he broke from her veins to smirk at her. Just for that moment, before he returned his mouth to her skin.

This time, he lapped at her with his tongue, tracing wet swirls with his spit through her blood.

She began going limp, but not from blood loss, he realized, from ecstacy. From pleasure. Her body couldn’t hide behind her barbs or anger or deflective questions.

She wanted this. She wanted him.

And gods, as her blood filled him, he felt alive, aroused by its strength, its potency. How it filled his aching stomach, soothing his hunger. How it hardened him in the groin again, making every little shiver and shift of her body as it brushed his lap all the more agonizing and tempting.

He gripped into her shoulders, pushing her away. Lest he take too much. Of her blood. Or her body.

And he didn’t want that.

“Thank you, Cordehlia,” he spoke, steady, even tones. “I enjoyed that immensely, and by the sounds of it… you did too.”

She said nothing, just gazing at him with those large, bright silver eyes. He could get lost in their brilliance. Warm and inviting. Like he had stared into them for a hundred years already. Maybe he had. “I… I think I will rest now,” he stood and began to draw inside the flaps of his tents, ignoring the way she trembled as he left. Ignoring the way his breeches were far too tight with how hard she made him.

“I trust you are no longer hungry,” she bid after him. He paused in the middle of the little gap in the doorway.

“Oh, don’t underestimate yourself. My hunger for you will only deepen,” he smirked down, a slight bow to his head, where she still lounged on his cushions. “Good night.”

For as much as he didn’t want to leave her alone, he didn’t want to go too far. And it was just too tempting… with the nearness of her body, the scent of her skin… like spring rain and meadow flowers, like all that was golden and shimmering and good in the woods.

He laid down in the dark of his tent, praying that at least those pillows would smell like her before dawn.

[elliesgaymachete]

the interesting thing about alien: romulus is how the original alien movie was about how one of the most terrifying things for a man would be the loss of bodily autonomy akin to pregnancy with an alien gestating inside of you and eventually being born from you in a way that kills you (which CAN happen with human pregnancy) and then alien: romulus decided to bring it all the way back around and said what if a woman was pregnant and wanted the baby but instead accidentally turned it into a humanoid alien parasite that she had to give birth to and while she survived the birth she was eventually killed by her own alien child when all she wanted was for her baby to see the sun

[optiwashere]

lily of the valley with lae’zel please and thank you. i love her so much i wanna see her miserable and crying

Ugh, this is a difficult one lmao. I also completely understand and respect your opinion, so here we go. Thanks for requesting, hopefully I managed something close! 💜

---

Lily of the Valley: a tear, followed by a sob

This battle is won, she thinks while sitting on a slanted, fire-blasted roof of charred tiles. I am free of the parasite, yet I question what’s next.

The sun bathes Faerûn in sparkling hues of orange and gold. Pierces Baldur’s Gate with the cruelest shade of red. Blood is darker, and dries darker still, but it doesn’t plunge into her heart the way this crimson stabs at an unbroken people.

Lae’zel paints this memory a permanent corner in her mind as something trails down her cheek. More follows. She chokes out an alien sound, and she glories in knowing it.