#stripes are a spawn from hell

[brain-rot-central]

Possession

A/N: This is pure filth. I'm so sorry.

Word count: 2.8k

Rating: Explicit. Please read the warnings!

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x FemaleHuman!Tav (the reader is Tav)

Warnings: 18+, fingering, cum play, cunnilingus, PiV sex, religion kink, praise kink, breeding kink, corruption kink, possessiveness, slight bdsm?, slight DD/lg (if you squint enough), cock drunk, pussy drunk

Summary: Astarion hasn't had anything in so long, not even himself.

Until you.

Astarion sighs above you with a great heave of his chest, his head dropping low enough to rest his forehead against yours.

You unhook your legs from around the small of his back as aftershocks of your orgasm rock through you. Your legs come to rest on either side of your vampiric lover, his cock still buried within the warmth of your sex. With every rhythmic contraction of your walls around his length, you feel it twitch from within. The head of his cock is nestled at the base of your cervix, and you let out a pleasured mewl knowing he's dribbling the last of his spend directly into your ripened womb with each pulse of his shaft.

Gently, Astarion pulls his length free from your warm nest. You whimper at the sudden loss of feeling full, and his seed begins to seep from entrance. It trickles down your folds and pools under you, causing you to shiver as the night air cools it quickly against your heated skin.

“Tch, such a waste,” Astarion says with a click of his tongue. He's looking down at the apex of your thighs to survey his handiwork, disappointed seeing all of his effort lay in vain.

The blush on your cheeks was finally subsiding when a new wave of warmth rushes to your face again as his eyes study your cunt. Astarion runs a finger up your swollen sex, catching some of his spend and bringing it back up to your entrance. He pushes his finger into your thoroughly stretched hole, languidly pumping the digit in and out.

“We simply cannot have that,” Astarion comments. He removes his digit from your cunt and begins to slither down your torso, littering your sternum in chaste kisses as he goes. “In fact,” he states with a silken tone, “one cannot accept such poor conditions.”

Your nipples harden to stiff peaks as his tongue dips into the valley of your navel. Your legs bend at the knees almost instinctively as Astarion’s lips kiss the curls atop your mound. 

Every memory cell in your body responds to Astarion autonomically, as if his touch has been seared into each of your nerve endings. It is intoxicating, and you can never get enough.

This man has dragged you into the depths of the Hells themselves. You've fallen out of favor with the Morninglord and have been shunned by your entire clergy as a consequence of succumbing to Astarion's advances.

It started as a simple favor; a quaint exchange. His continued vigor and vitality, all for the small price of occasional sips of your blood. You were hesitant at first, but you inevitably agreed.

You had no idea it would lead to you being on all fours in the cellar of an abandoned ruin, Astarion mercilessly pounding into you from behind as he grips your hair for leverage. You forfeited your honor to him, and your maidenhood, all too enthusiastically.

And you would do it all over again, for as long as he would allow it.

“We certainly need to rectify this unfortunate predicament,” he says. He kisses the soft skin of your inner left thigh, and you squirm at the stark temperature contrast of his cool lips against your heated skin.

A whimper escapes you as you feel the tip of his nose rub against your clit. Astarion licks a wet stripe up your center and you spread your legs wider, grinding your pelvis down onto the wet muscle.

His hands come up to wrap around your thighs as he suckles on your swollen nub, languidly stroking it with his tongue. You grip the sheets of the bed below you and pull as a strangled moan rips from your throat.

“A-Astarion,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper, “g-gods, please, it's so d-dirty…” Your voice trails off into a moan as he drags his tongue up your taint, collecting the remnants of his spend in a small well.

“F-fuck-!” you yell as his tongue pushes past your entrance, fucking himself back into your hole. Astarion hums into your cunt as he drives his tongue deeper into you, moving his head in just the right way for the tip of his nose to rub deliciously against your clit.

“The Gods are dead, my darling. There is only us,” he speaks into you. The vibration of his voice travels up into your pelvis and spreads across your abdomen, causing an obscene contraction of your walls around his tongue.

Your hands fly up onto his head and grip fistfuls of silver locks, bracing your feet on the bed as you grind yourself over his face. You cast your eyes down between your thighs to inspect the scene below, your breath coming in short gasps.

Smoldering red eyes meet yours, Astarion's eyelashes fluttering as he continues to hum into your sex. He meets your gaze once again and your heart begins to beat wildly inside of your chest.

This man was beautiful, so godsdamned beautiful.

And he was yours.

All yours.

Suddenly, he pulls himself away from your center and you whine in protest. You exchange glances and you see the corner of his mouth pulling upward into a crooked smile. Astarion pulls himself up and over your body again, bracing himself on his elbows on either side of your torso.

You moan softly as you feel his reawakened lust now resting against you, thick and heavy between your folds. The thought of using the small of his back as leverage to glide yourself against the weighted appendage crosses your mind, and you throw your head back with an exasperated sigh.

His hips twitch in response to your wanton display of pleasure and he groans, driving his hardened length through the slick heat of your swollen sex. He glides himself back and forth, smearing your arousal with slow rolls of his hips. 

Once again, body almost possessed, your legs come up to wrap themselves around the small of his back, and you wrap your arms around his neck. The pre-cum leaking from his tip provides additional lubrication, and you mewl as the head of his cock teases your clit with each canting of his hips. He continues this torturous routine as he drops his face mere millimeters away from yours.

“I want you to taste us, my love,” Astarion coos as he pulls at your bottom lip with blunted teeth. “I want you to savor how well we complement one another.” 

He skirts his tongue across your lips, seeking entrance. You open your mouth to accept him, and you immediately groan in pleasure at the taste spreading over your tongue.

Bittersweet yet mellow, with a distinct note that hits the back of your throat. Your whole body convulses, your back arching off the bed, chest pushing into his. It was debauched and utterly sinful; it was absolutely divine.

“Do you taste it, my darling?” Astarion asks as he pulls his mouth away from yours. His head dips to the nape of your neck and you shiver as he kisses your tender skin. “Can you taste how well we complete one another?” 

Your hands travel up the back of his head and you tilt your neck off to the side, allowing Astarion better access to the column of your neck. His tongue worries the two small scars beginning to develop over your jugular vein, his favorite place to feed on you, and you grip fistfuls of his hair.

“Do you know what else I taste, pet?” His mouth closes over the ghosts of your scars and your body convulses, wanton moans spilling from your lips as he nibbles the soft flesh.

“W-hat, else?” you breathe out, words separated by huffs.

“Your arousal.” He licks a stripe up the side of your neck, mouth close now to your ear. “Your excitement.” He nips at your earlobe, pulling gently. His voice drops into a low growl and he speaks into your ear, “Your fertility.”

Your whole body arches off the bed, your breasts pushing into his chest, and you writhe under him. A bolt of lighting shoots across your pelvis as the walls of your cunt clench around the memory of your first time. 

You think back to your coupling in the cellar, you on all fours as he slams into you repeatedly from behind. There was no other sound in that cellar aside from the wet squelching of your sex as he drove his length into you repeatedly.

You recall how thoroughly full you felt, how thoroughly mated. Your body willfully opening to him, beckoning him to claim you further. His hands on your hips held you steady as he filled you to the brim with his seed. You'd never cum harder in your life, your walls milking every last drop of his release.

Your clergy be damned; you knew there and then that you wanted Astarion on a carnal level. You want your womb to be desecrated by the sowing of his undead children.

“You want this, don't you?” he moans into your ear, accentuating his words with a drawn out thrust between your legs. Astarion braces his weight on one arm, snaking one hand up and over the delicate column of your throat.

You moan and lift your chin up just as his fingers wrap around your throat. “Tell me how much you want this, little love,” he says to you.

“Do you still want me?” is the silent question wrapped within his words.

Your hands release their hold on his hair and come to grasp the one on your neck. “A-Astarion,” you breathe, voice hoarse as his palm pushes against the center of your throat. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you continue grinding your hips against his length, the head of his cock teasing your soaked entrance.

“What do you want me to do, Tavaria?” Astarion huffs out, voice desperate as he tries to resist the urge to sink himself into your warm, inviting center.

“I want… Gods…”

“What, do you want, Tavaria?” His voice is stern and demanding as he growls into your ear. “Tell me, now.”

Do you still want this, all of this? Us? …All of me?

Your head is swimming. You can think of nothing else but depraved, carnal lust.

“Fuck me, please, Astarion…” You open your eyes, hooded in lust, and meet his gaze. His mouth is slightly agape as he sucks in ragged breaths, his pupils blown wide. “Please, Astarion,” you beg.

The hand on your neck now rises to clasp your chin, holding your head steadfast. “Again,” he growls out, “say it again.” He grinds his hips further against yours.

You moan loudly into the night air, hoping no one from the nearby town hears. “Mark me, Astarion,” you manage to breathe out. “Fill my womb until the entire world can see what you've done to me.” You bring the hand holding your chin up to your mouth, placing soft kisses on the tips of his fingers. “Please,” you whine.

Astarion peels himself away from you in an instant, sitting up on his knees. “Turn over,” he growls out through gritted teeth.

It takes a second for the words to register in your brain, but your body inevitably moves as he commands. You turn yourself over on the forest floor, supporting yourself on your hands and knees. His palms sink into the plush flesh of your hips and he pulls you back toward him, his cock brushing up against the cleft of your ass.

You look over your shoulder to see him spit into his palm, working it over his length with urgent strokes. Suddenly the head of his cock nudges against your entrances and he sinks himself in. Your arousal provides enough support for him to fully sheath himself within you, and he hisses as his tip pushes against the end of your cervix.

Your arms give way and you lean forward onto your elbows, head dropping between your arms as your hips move of their own accord back and forth over his length. Your cunt throbs with each pass of his cock against your walls, and you sigh as it rubs against the spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

“Gods, you are so fucking warm,” he growls from behind you. Astarion reaches forward and grips a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back up. His other hand is sunken into your hip in a vice grip, holding you in place as he continues careening you both toward completion. You know you'll have a bruise come tomorrow, but you didn't care. You want him to mark you, to claim you.

You desperately push yourself back up onto the palms your hands, your muscles struggling to support your weight as your pleasure builds. Your whole body is shaking as you continue to meet his thrusts with your hips. Astarion adjusts his angle ever so slightly behind you, the head of his cock now pushing directly into the spot that turns your vision hot white.

“A-Astarion,” you mumble as saliva pools in your mouth, “d-don’t stop-!” You feel your thighs quaking, your cunt fluttering wildly over his length as you draw closer and closer to the edge.

Astarion catches onto your rapidly approaching crescendo and increases the pace. The clearing is filled with nothing but the wet sound of your arousal and skin slapping against skin. He lifts his chin up toward the sky and his mouth hangs open as he moans incoherently into the night air, hips never faltering in their assault.

“My sweet girl,” he says to you, voice thoroughly and completely wrecked, “you always feel so good around my cock.”

You feel yourself clench around him in response to his praise, pleasured mewls escaping your lips. His hand releases its grip on your hair, coming to rest on your hip as his fingertips sink into the supple skin beneath them. He's spearing himself directly into your cunt, directly into that spongy spot inside you, and your arms falter once again. At this point, you're not going to last much longer.

You cross your arms in front of you, resting your head on your forearms. Your brain has ceased all logical thought as he fucks into you mercilessly from behind. You mumble a mantra of “please, yes, please, oh, there, keep going,” from under him. 

One particular thrust has you seeing stars explode behind your vision and you spill over the edge into oblivion. You think you scream, the pleasure ripping through you so intensely that it obscures your other senses, but they're muffled by your face buried in your forearms.

His hips still as your walls contract around him. He sucks in a deep breath through gritted teeth, uneven pants escaping his mouth. He begins to move behind you again, his hips stuttering in short bursts into your wet heat. “I'm going… I'm going to…” he pants from behind you, chest heaving.

You manage to raise your head enough to look briefly over your shoulder. He looks thoroughly debauched; damp strands of silver hair are plastered to his face and beads of sweat drip from the tip of his nose.

He is devastatingly handsome.

“Do it,” you reassure him, softly. “It's okay.”

Astarion’s mouth drops open, a raw, guttural growl rupturing from his throat. His bottom fangs glint in the moonlight and his eyes roll back into his skull as hips finally cease. The grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you further into him, and then you feel it.

Thick ropes of heat coat the inside of your cunt and you moan, feeling some of it slip out between the place where you're joined and drip down onto the forest floor below.

With a drawn-out sigh, he slumps against your back, the added weight causing you both to collapse onto the soft earth below. You feel him mouthing softly against your back, leaving absent-minded kisses across your skin as his brain performs yet another hard reset, the second one of the evening.

Astarion’s senses finally return and he pulls himself free, rolling off of you and onto his back. You reposition yourself onto your side and slot yourself against him. His arm comes down over your shoulder, and you tuck your head against his chest. You feel Astarion kiss the top of your head, and you sigh in contentment at the warm gesture.

Neither of you speak another word, thoroughly spent. As your eyes fall closed, you nestle your cheek against his chest and hear the slow thud of his heart as it lulls you to sleep.

Within his arms, you are safe. 

You are loved.

You are home.

[reverseexorcist]

★ 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝 ★

"If it's alright could I request Carmilla Carmine x a fem reader who's a fallen angel? Like maybe they met during extermination and got their wings ripped off for not wanting to kill Carmilla's kids or they were already in hell with Carmilla for some time before the extermination? If you don't want to do this that's totally fine, and sorry if this isn't how to request stuff :)."

Honestly, with how this ended, I'm really tempted to write a much fluffier part 2 to this

Part 2 ↫ Right here

➲ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 Carmine + !Fallen Angel!Reader

➲ Romantic ☐, Platonic ☒

➲ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 Count; 3,462 Words

➲ Warnings/notes; Female reader, descriptions of gore/blood, canonical Lute slander (sorry Lute), romantic or platonic wasn't requested so I went with platonic to fit the story more (if the requester wants romantic just feel free to ask me), mother mode Carmilla (she might be a bit ooc because of this),

Oh wow.

Oh wow were you shaking.

You couldn't tell if it was from the excitement or the nerves - Probably both if you were being honest with yourself, but you couldn't shake off the vibrating feeling tingling beneath your skin that made you want to fly laps around heaven. Your stomach was doing flips, but you led mask only reflected your nearly psychopathic grin and twitching eye.

Even after your lieutenant Lute shot you a stern look, no doubt pissed off because you couldn't sit still for five goddamn seconds, you still couldn't resist fidgeting with your spear. It was sparkly, and somewhat heavy, and a murderous weapon that was entirely yours! It was also cold, freezing almost. Even against your gloves it made your palms feel numb and seemed to shine in sync with your own valiant excitement.

Baby's first extermination, basically. While the name certainly sounded scary, you'd been waiting for this day for six months (you and the other forty-five cadets in your platoon) and you were ready to do your best! Sure, you were still technically a rookie, hanging around the flock and bringing up the rear of the exorcists, but this was how you proved yourself to rise the ranks, right?

Your heart stopped beating in your chest when you finally reached the front. Holy shit, that was the high seraphim! Sera, right? Oh wow, she really was much much taller in person, towering above the clustering sea of black and white murderous intent. Her outward vibe was motherly and caring, but you could see the glint of distain, guilt and regret sparking in the deepest depths of her eyes. Which was confusing, because you were doing a good thing, right? Ridding the divine planes of sinners irredeemable souls.

The thoughts crowded your mind - Evil, twisted monsters crawling around like bugs in the brimstone crowded crevices of hell. You could only imagine the satisfaction of killing your first hell spawn.

It would have to be cool no doubt. Something big with lots of teeth and claws and that could breathe fire! You had to come home with a cool story to brag about. You'd heard the tales from all your superiors. From everyone including the first man Adam himself, your respectably awesome (if a little terrifying) lieutenant Lute, to the other lieutenants like Michael and Gabriel. You'd have to off a demon built like a mountain to get their attention.

And by the big man himself, you were going to do it. Even if it took you a hundred years, you could already see yourself commanding a group just like yours, bearing a helmet with horns big and curved and bold, black stripes stippled along your ivory wings.

With a very particular pep in your step, you saluted the high seraphim Sera respectively, head cocked up just so you could regard her kindly warmth in fullness. Her smile didn't reach her eyes, and although she swiftly sent you on your way with the rest of your platoon, you couldn't help but let your nerves sway your resolve ever so slightly.

It didn't matter though! You unfurled your wings with perhaps a bit too much of a dramatic flair, but with your spear in hand and helm polished so it shined with malevolent glory, you kicked off without a second thought, tailing right behind where you were supposed to be.

Your first impression of hell was the heat.

With the extermination already well under way, raging fires were already burning up half of the city sending whorls of smog up into the air. You easily battered it away with a few strong flaps of your wings. With your head on the swivel, your eagle-eyes peered around the desolate land for the forms of the sinners struggling to thrive below, silhouettes hidden by the thick layer of smoke and ash blanketing the landscape.

Lieutenant Lute furled out her wings below you, a screeching war cry echoing throughout the battlefield as she all but left your rookie platoon in the metaphorical dust. The sound itself only spurred you on, itching for the blood of a demon on the blade of your angelic spear. Without a second thought, you tucked your wings to you sides and dived below, headfirst into the fray.

Billowing flames licked past you harmlessly, though they burned like hell (which seemed rather apt, considering where you). You didn't falter, flying through the embers like a goddamn phoenix ready to cleanse the realm sprawled out beneath you. The solid wingbeats of two of your fellow cadets only strengthened your resolution, a holy fire burning in your soul - An itch to clear the filth of devil scum away. This was the chaotic strength that your captain had sought to build in you, and now you were finally able to act on it.

But everywhere you looked, you only found simple, humanoid souls running and screaming in terror. Eyes wide, half-dead or bloodied beyond belief as they scrambled to find shelter from the onslaught of exorcists like yourself. Nowhere could you see the mangled forms of the demons you'd been taught to slaughter. Descriptions from your seniors before you passed through your mind - 'gleaming eyes with with wrath and lust', 'gangly limbs twisted to an unholy form', 'mouths filled with rows of sharp teeth, and claws like knives'.

You faltered, confused. The words of Lute rang out in your mind.

"Of course, it's not like they can actually hurt you. You're all warriors, the toughest, just use your spears to stab the shit out of them!"

You were alone now. You couldn't hear the comforting sounds of your fellow rookies behind you anymore. They were well in front of you now, peering around with a similar confusion to yours. But to your absolute horror, they simply shrugged their shoulders and dived forward with bloodlust evident in their glowing white masks. Silver points of spears were jammed through the heads of the terrified demons below. But were they demons? They didn't look like them at all. Every single book you'd seen depicting demons drew them as eldritch monsters with too many eyes to count, tentacles and claws and fangs with nary but bloodlust and vile thoughts hidden within their slitted eyes.

But the demons in front of you looked just like people. You could see the way their faces contorted in terror. You could see them scrambling to help what you could only assume were friends and family, pulling them along and carrying the ones who couldn't run for themselves. You could only feel your heart fall as you watched one of your best friends land on top of a sinner already crushed by rubble, turquoise skin stained red. The begged and pleaded and cried, but their voice was silenced as the spearhead sunk into their skull.

You flinched. The world around you ignored you completely, and for once, you were completely happy to go unnoticed.

Shakily, you touched-down in a nearby street. It was littered with already oozing corpses, but other than that it was peacefully empty. At least here the sounds of violence and pain and terror was muffled, far away enough that you could at least try to distance yourself and get your breathing under control.

You barely reeled in a gag as the smell of blood invaded your senses.

Was this really what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? You could still see yourself in your mind's eye, a model exorcist like your lieutenant now leading her own platoon into another extermination. Maybe this would be a one off, just a shock to the system that would get your mind reworked into killing mode. But, the more you thought about it, the more your heart clenched in pain and terror that seemingly matched the suffering souls around you. You were an agent of heaven, you thought you were killing mindless monsters, not those with human souls! Sure, there were probably shitty people fucking around down here, but what about all those who had to sin in self defence?

A chorus of startled gasps startled you out of your panic ridden stupor. Your wings flared up, trying to make yourself look bigger, more threatening as you wheeled around. The spear in your hands looked more like a prop at this point, and it was clear that you had minimal idea how to use it inside a proper battle. But still, you fumbled with it and pointed it threateningly in the direction of the two demons that had appeared right behind you.

They clutched each other, stumbling backwards and further away from the danger of your angelic weapon. One of them placed an arm in front of the other, her eyes narrowing behind her red-tinted glasses as if she was both terrified by you, but was daring you to do something about it.

But still, you could see them shaking from where you stood. They both seemed rooted to the ground, the one with platinum blonde hair refused to take her eyes off of you, but the demon behind her (maybe her sister? A friend?) was looking around nervously.

You could see yourself reflected in those crimson specs, and for once it made you freeze. You'd seen yourself in uniform plenty of times before, the steel boots and guard gloves and the led, horned helmet, but it always seemed almost comforting before. When you were surrounded by your cohorts, it made you fit in. Out here, you realised, you were the monster.

The ever-present smile on your mask shrunk, falling into a grimace as your grip on your weapon tightened. Your wings drew in, you shrunk backwards, almost stumbling over your own feet in the process of trying your hardest to get away. You never wanted to scare people.

So drowned by your own confusion and fear and reckless thoughts of worry about the future that you didn't notice the confusion growing the faces of the demons in front of you turn into abject horror as a far more ominous silhouette grew behind you.

"I thought I taught you not to hesitate," Lute growled in your ear, placing her free hand on your shoulder and digging her fingers in till your were sure a bruise was marred into your skin. You didn't respond, couldn't even if you wanted to. The trembling that rattled you only grew stronger, and you fumbled as your hands cramped painfully. With a resounding clatter, your spear dropped from your grasp an on to the brazen brimstone floor.

Lute growled.

She didn't say anything, but she knew. The both of you knew by now. You couldn't kill a sinner.

Lute didn't even hesitate before shoving you to the ground. Your head collided with solid stone painfully even with your helmet on, stars shining behind your eyes as her words blurred together as she pressed her foot firmly between your shoulder blades. Your wings shivered and spread involuntarily, and you feared the moments that would come next. Lute was unpredictable, but this could only end with bloodshed.

The two girls still hadn't moved, transfixed in horror as they watched the scene in front of them play out.

Asphalt stung your hands and you tried to claw your way to freedom, fingertips digging into the scorched Earth as you started crying. Lute, however, was stronger than you. Of course she was, she'd been doing this for centuries, and you were still a fledging on her first trip out of heaven.

You never thought it would end like this.

Lute dug her fingers into your wings, tangling into your still downy feathers before she yanked with all her might. The scream she tore from your lips was hellish, agonising, yet the blended with the sounds of violence all around you. You were sure you blacked out several times throughout the process, but by the time your old lieutenant was done with you, barely anything but feathery stumps and golden blood remained of your wings.

You could only curl up, cry and watch as Lute tossed clumps of feathers aside as she stalked toward the two demons that still hadn't had the thought to run. And for the first time in your life, you felt sorry for the sinners that populated hell's ring of wrath.

She would make them suffer, that was for sure. If she was happy enough to tear of another angel's wings, you could only imagine what she would do to a sinner. You didn't want to imagine, and your mind was fuzzy enough that you thankfully didn't have to.

The sound of something sharp rang throughout the air. It made you groan in pain, the sound piercing your ears and making your brain rattle in your skull. Sharp - 'Tink tink tink tink tink.' If you could see the look of relief coming across the demons faces, a part of you might've urged Lute to run. Only, she had just torn your wings off with little qualm, and now you had no shits left to give if she lived or not.

The exorcist never got the chance to strike, her weapon torn from her hands and thrown across the street till it collided with a bloody body. Lute herself barely had time to react before she was struck over the head once, then twice in rapid succession. A whirlwind of white and angelic steel and pure fury launched herself in the path between the two demons and the exorcist. It was almost exhilarating to watch, seeing Lute strike out with her fists in a pathetic attempt of hand to hand combat against her new foe. Whoever they were, they were really fucking fast, almost too fast for you to keep up with.

The fight was over before it started. Without her weapon, Lute couldn't do much against the sinner she was pitted against, and as ruthless as she was, she knew when a battle was lost. In a flurry of black and white feathers, she fled. And then the newcomer's attention was shifted to you.

At this point, you would've welcomed death. The pain alone was making you drift slightly, and you didn't even have the energy left to groan when whoever nudged you slightly with something hard and cold.

"Mother.." The words were so soft, floating away from your ears.

"We need to leave." It was undoubtably her. That voice was the one who beat Lute into the ground.

"What about..?" That was the one who called out for mother.

"Won't she tattle?" So that had to be her sister.

Those words sent a dose of adrenaline through you. With as much strength as you could muster, you clawed yourself into an upwards position. You could feel the clotting blood running down your back, but if you were going to die, you at least wanted to do so with some dignity.

Shakily, with much more effort than was really desired, you reached up and peeled your helmet off.

It clattered noisily like glass against the floor, and suddenly the world was much brighter, much more red and the air was laced with more sulphur and death than you could imagine. But what really surprised you was the look of shock written across the sinner's face.

She was tall. Really tall. The only person who could really compete was Seraphim Sera or maybe Adam, but you really couldn't tell with how delirious you were.

"Una niña?" They all looked surprised.

The one called mother took a few steps forward, confusion and anger clearly present in her eyes. But, as she kneeled down in front of your comparatively tiny form, you realised the anger wasn't directed at you.

"Did she try to hurt you?" She turned back to face her daughters. They both shared a look, but ultimately shook their heads no. That right there, was your saving grace.

She looked back at you, hair pinned into high horns, and took your helmet in her large hands. She passed it off to one of her daughters, before gently scooping you into her hold.

You whined, writhing minutely in her hold as the searing phantom pain of your wings being torn off returned. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, and yet the demoness tutted softly, shushing you like you were a baby.

Her daughters followed without a word, and you and the family unit moved swiftly through the desolate roads. So many questions were running through your mind, and yet you couldn't find the answer to any of them, your thoughts to lost to the fog of blood loss to ever truly return.

"You better not betray me," Were the last words you heard before promptly passing out.

The plushness of a soft blanket was the first thing you felt waking up. For a moment, you felt nothing but relief realising the entire thing had been a horrid nightmare, but when you tried to rustle the numbness out of your wings, the relief was replaced with horror when you realised that your wings were just straight up missing, only two feathery stumps remaining in their place.

That made you shoot up in horror. You didn't even care about the sharp sting that ran down your spine and into your very being, you were a bit too concerned about your current predicament.

"You're awake."

That made you promptly scream before ducking under the covers like you were a nestling again. A soft sigh reached your ears, but you dared not to venture out from the warmth of the thick covers.

Not like you had a choice, though, as you were soon pried away from their safety. It was her, the demoness with the high-pinned buns. She looked down on you, red eyes glowing in the low light, and yet, you couldn't sense a smidge of hatred towards you. Only distrust and sadness laced her expression.

"How old are you?" She asked after the silence had gone on long enough.

"I'm a fledgling," Is all you said. You didn't really fancy giving too much information. Although, the look of horror the crossed her face maybe suggested that you'd already given away plenty.

"Obligan a los niños a hacer esto?" She raised a hand and carded it through her snowy tresses, locks of white hair threaded loose as she paced back and forth. You only watched her, slowly sinking back into the comfort of the warm blankets.

"You're still a child." It was a statement.

You hated being a child. You didn't want to be a child, at least, you hadn't wanted to be a child in the past. You wanted to join the ranks of the exorcists, and to do that you at least needed to be juvenile. Hell, you were lucky enough to make it into the cadets while you still had baby feathers decorating your wings. But now, the fact that yes, you were still technically a kid made your saviour look upon you with more than just disdain and hatred like any other exorcist, but rather she looked upon you with an emotion that you'd never seen before, and not one you could really name.

"You are a child, and now you have fallen," She eyed your mostly healed wing stumps, and you couldn't help but reflexively flex them anxiously. The literal weight off your back made you want to cry.

"Was this your first extermination?" She gazed upon you with a guarded look. You nodded.

"And you didn't hurt my daughters?" Another nod from you. That seemed to make her relax just a tad.

"Could you ever hurt someone?" That made you pause, the memories of the extermination rushing back to you full force. Tears grew at the corners of your eyes, and still, you answered with a simple 'no'.

She exhaled a sigh of relief before closing the distance and kneeling down to your eye level.

"Carmilla Carmine." She reached a hand out toward you. So that was her name.

You clutched your hands close to your chest, fearing her touch, but gave her your name anyway.

"What are you gonna do with me?" You asked, voice cracking. Her gaze softened, finally letting her guard slip for just a moment.

"Well, you weren't going to make it out there by yourself. You'll be staying with me," The words took a moment to sink into your mind. Well, at least it was better than death.

Gently, like she was working with a scared animal, Carmilla coaxed you out from the comfort of the bed, slowly ushering you to her side. With your wings missing and their remains bandaged, head bare and missing your exorcist helmet, it felt like the safest place in the world.

"Welcome to Hell."

Rules + Info,

Masterlist,

[queenimmadolla]

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You surprise Eddie with your baby's first trick-or-treat costume. Spoiler alert: she's adorable.

a/n: for maisie 🩷

more penny and Eddie here

“I’m waitiiiiiiiiing.” Eddie sang out from the couch, tugging at the neck of the cream colored turtleneck you’d guilted him into wearing. It wasn’t as bad as the sweater he had to wear with it. Truly the ugliest thing he had ever seen. 

  It was so ugly, it offended him and he was a little grumpy about it, which you teased was appropriate considering he was supposed to be dressed as Bert from Sesame Street. 

  Yeah. Sesame Street. 

  The (totally) gay puppets.

“You’ll have to get close.” Eddie had threatened when you pulled out eyeliner, not to line his eyes like you did before one of his shows or a date night, but to link his brows together in the most unrealistic looking unibrow ever. 

  Once upon a time, up until like two Halloweens ago, Eddie had used this day to be completely and thoroughly chaotic. Messy. Well, as messy as the social pariah could be on Halloween. So just really drunk, maybe high—sometimes both—making out with someone who wouldn’t acknowledge his existence the following day (and he was very grateful for you for breaking the curse on that last carefree Halloween). But that was the old Eddie Munson.

  Gone was the Eddie Munson that either went all out–in leather, eyeliner and fake blood–or barely tried with some devil horns and a bad sense of humor for halloween to deal weed and drugs, smoke weed and drink til he threw up, or get fucked. Granted, he wasn’t going through this change alone. 

  Your opportunities to party on Halloween night with your friends–having all gotten ready together for the big, slutty night out–drinking ‘til you were stupid only to wake up on your bedroom floor (sometimes not even yours and on one year, the top of your neighbor’s car) with no real repercussions were no more.

  Your days as primarily careless teenagers and now young adult were over, replaced with enjoying the night in a way you were both surprised to find that you didn’t hate, even as early twentysomethings. 

  Hell, the both of you were eager–even if Eddie had to wear a lame costume. He’d wanted to be Ernie, at least.

  “Shut up!” You called back from the bedroom. Eddie snickered at the amusement hidden under your voice and shifted until he was lounging on his side, arm propped up with his hand.

  “Still waitiiiiiiiing!”

  You’d been hiding a certain costume from him for the past three weeks, and the anticipation was killing him.

  “You are the most impatient man I have ever met.” 

  “I just gotta have you, baby.” Came his immediate response and his grin widened when he realized he didn’t even have to think up replies for your quips, it just came natural now. He knew you that well. Still made him giddy and want to kick his feet in the air.

  He loved being married to you. Sue him.

  “Okay, here we come!” You announced and Eddie scrambled to sit up straight, eagerly leaning forward to get an early peak. 

  You walked down the short hall, dressed in a striped sweatshirt, jeans with the bottoms rolled into cuffs and a pair of red converse. Ernie. But Eddie already knew what your costume was, it was a couple’s costume and you were indeed a couple. 

  It was who you were glancing back at, just out of his line of sight, that held his curiosity. 

  “C’mon, baby. Go show daddy!”

  At your prompting, your baby–just a couple of months over a year old–came waddling out, footsteps awkward as she got used to the orange duck feet covering her own and the padding and stuffing of her yellow duck costume, clutching a bottle you’d given her to keep her from fussing while you got her dressed. Her curly little head and chunky cheeks were framed in the hood of the costume, with the duck’s  head resting on hers.

  “Are you kidding me?” Eddie asked, mouth dropping open as his eyes darted from his cute little spawn in her adorable costume to your smug expression and back, “Are you joking? OH MY GOD!”

  Eddie reached his arms out to Penny, fingers curling into his fists as he made grabby hands, “You are so precious, my little baby, come to daddy!”

  Penny was delighted with his praise, drooly mouth dropping open and big brown eyes sparkling as she rushed forward. Her lack of coordinated motor skills paired with the duck feet and the padding of her duck bottom throwing her equilibrium off meant she immediately lost her balance and you and Eddie both inhaled sharply, quickly rising to attention as she wobbled forward briefly, then fell back on her cushioned tail feathers.

  It was far from a dangerous fall, so you and Eddie stood frozen, waiting for her response so as to not sway her to have a certain response, having taken her to the doctor’s after a fall once only to learn she was perfectly fine and had only started crying because you had. 

  You both learned real quick to wait for her response after falling, sometimes she cried and had a boo boo that Daddy and Mommy could fix with some first aid and a kiss, and other times she'd run right into the wall, get up, and walk away (albeit while muttering in angry baby gibberish).

  Penny blinked once, eyes flying from your face to her dad’s before she wiggled her bum against the floor, set her bottle down next to her and tried to stand up. 

  You both let out matching sighs of relief before Eddie darted forward to scoop her up.

  “Are you rubber ducky?” Eddie asked once he had her situated in his arms. All she did was give him that big, beautiful smile of hers (no longer gummy with the teeth she had coming in but thinking about that made Eddie teary eyed) before her attention strayed to his long curls and her chunky little fist flew out to grab some of it, staring it down before she put it in her mouth.

  “Say, yes, baby.” You encouraged her after picking up her bottle, hand tucking in one of her curls peaking out.

  “Yesh.” She parroted, mouthing aggressively at the hair in her fist. While she was distracted, Eddie took the opportunity to press kisses into her cheek, smothering her in them until she grew annoyed and snapped her head in his direction, mouth wide in protest.

  “Sor-ry!” He huffed, still grinning as he pressed another one into her soft cheek. She was all talk  and no bite. Mostly.

  “What does the duck say, baby?” You asked, trying to prompt her. She could do some of the animal sounds and she’d gotten the duck right a few times.

  “Moooo.” And sometimes she moo’d.

  “That is one interesting duck.” Eddie commented and you shushed him.

  “No, baby. Quack.”

  “Cack.”

  Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Okay, that’s a little too close to–we’ll stick with moo.”

  You grabbed her trick-or-treat bag, a disposable camera and a couple of other things you thought you might need to take her trick-or-treating for the first time, while Eddie continued to coddle her, only putting her down when you were all ready to go. 

  Penny was little miss independent until she caught sight of the steps outside of the trailer. Then she whimpered, dropped her bottle and turned to Eddie, shoving herself at his legs as she reached her little arms up to him.

  “Up! UP! Up!”

  It was mean of him, really it was, because Penny was genuinely afraid of the steps but that also meant she demanded her daddy hold her in his arms, and that wasn’t really a loss for him so he hoped she’d hang onto that fear for a while before she got inventive and found another way to climb down them without him.

  Eddie picked her up and she curled into his chest, chin on his shoulder as she clung to him with the duck head on her hood hitting the side of his face. He was trying to hide his smile but it was much too large to conceal and you glared at him with no malice, more amused with Eddie than anything.

  “It’s okay, sweetpea. Daddy will protect you from those big, mean steps.”

  He cackled as you shook your head with a smile. 

  “You are so messed up, capitalizing off of her fear.”

  “Hey–it’s easy for you, she still demands and needs your boob. Did you see her refuse my kisses in there? I’m fighting for her affection here. And I’m gonna keep doing it, as soon as she gets over her fear of steps, I’m telling her a monster lives underneath them. Now, let's go get some candy I’ll also eat on her behalf.”

  He bounded cheerfully out the door, Penny bouncing in his arms while you locked up behind him and called out in your laughter.

  “And using your baby for candy–oh, you’ve got to choke tonight. I’ll save you, but you’ve got to choke.”

  Eddie paused, waiting for you to catch up as his lips curled into smirk in a very Grinch like manner and you groaned, eyes squeezing shut as you realized what he was implying without having to verbalize it. 

  “I mean, I’d be happy to arrange that–”

  “Keep walking, Bert. We only have an hour and a half so we’d better get a move on if you want a decent amount of candy to steal from your own baby.”

  “I’m not above taking candy from any baby.” He confirmed leaning down just as you leaned up to meet in a kiss, the both of you smiling into it. It was brief, ending when Penny accidentally pecked the both of you with the head of her costume.

[georgiapeach30513]

Down On My Knees, Part 3

Summary: One. Two. THREE.

Pairings: Jax Teller X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  dark, explicit language, explicit sexual content, mentions of punishing oneself, degrading language, violence, death, sex in a chuch, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Jax sits abruptly in bed, scratching his neck, and stretching the twinge of pain in muscles. The night was a living hell. Your scent lingered all in his bed. Your sounds haunted him. He can still taste the kiss of your mouth. It’s like you wanted to inflate every part of his mind and body with you.

He takes a deep breath as he massages the crick in his neck. You felt too good. Your body is sin incarnate. You are a demon to him, and he can’t stop. There isn’t a stopping point now. He has begged with every fiber of his muscles for this ache to have you to stop, and still it continues. It continues to seep into his soul, and he’s gone too far now. He’s tasted and had you.

He grabs a cigarette, and lights it quickly. Staring out into the alleyway at the brick of his nightmares. The flashes of that night. Did he see it happen, and did nothing? Or worse. The compelling thoughts he has towards the swell of your belly. The soft curves that accompany the changes to you. All he wants to do is hold you, and your stomach.

Growing up poor, you don’t have many chances of what you can do. Continue to stay poor, or join the church. He remembers the feeling a woman’s flesh under his fingers. The way their bodies become pliable because of his movements. The soft begging sounds in their voice. He didn’t have to take, they gave freely. It couldn’t have been him in the alley. He was just a coward that didn’t stop a series of misfortunes. He’s a coward. Not a monster.

Jax clenches his eyes close when he hears the rustling of the paper. He prolongs a pull of his cigarette. Trying to avoid whatever devil message awaits him. He misbehaved last night, and his back normally paid for his sins. He would stripe the cords of muscles as he punished himself. But he would prefer your fingernails. He didn’t make his skin pay for his sins. It just didn’t feel right.

“You’re no saint. You’re no angel,” a gruff voice says at the door before loud booms of a man’s gait disappear down the hallway. He knew he wasn’t either of those. He filled your cunt with so much of his seed, he watched it drip down your legs as you hobbled to your room.

Today you were going to be examined by a doctor. Obviously to check and make sure that everything with the baby was growing correctly. He didn’t want the babe to be taken somewhere else, even if he knew it was for the better of yours and the child’s life. You wouldn’t have to live with the shame, and neither would your child. Jax runs a hand harshly down his face before turning towards the door.

He picks the paper up slowly. His eyes fill with rage as he reads the words. A fucking game. A sick, slow, tortuous game.

Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Proverbs 11:2

He crumbles the paper, and lets it fall to the floor. He’s either a madman or a man that will have his soul damned to hell for the things he’s done. And will continue to do. Popping his neck, he determines it’s time to get dressed. He’ll have to escort you to your appointment. He will be the only one with you from now on.

“Jax,” you whisper, and wish you could yell. His hand smooths over your stomach so gently. He dips his fingers low, grazing the digits over your exposed cunt. And his eyes have an eerie emptiness. As if the only thing that mattered were you, and the spawn growing in your belly. An obsession bubbling within him.

“Father Teller,” you speak softly, and those crystal blue eyes turn to look towards you, but his pupils block out most of their beautiful color. Seeming like he’s in a stupor. “Don’t touch me here, and I’ll let you cleanse me again. Right before the eyes of God,” clearing his throat, his pupils fade back to normal, and he yanks his hands away from you.

“You are a filthy little lamb,” you keep your eyes looking forward as he leans towards you. Putting his mouth right on your ear, “My little lamb,” your eyes flutter close with his emphasis of my. Jax flattens his tongue and llicks up your neck, and you purr. “You don’t even know what pleasure is. You don’t even know the ways that I can fuck that tight little cunt,” but he did. He is no angel. And he’s definitely no saint. But he can make you see heaven.

“I want to look at you this time,” his laughter is husky against your sensitive column, and slick pools to your core in the most humiliating way, “Jax, we can’t here.”

“What are they gonna do to me? A priest. They’ll think you’re the one tempting me. And you are. You are a siren, and I am weak to your calls. Look at you with your legs spread open for me. Growing our — your miracle,” a rumble vibrates his chest, and you look up at him. Peering up at him with the most innocent doe eyes, “Don’t be a tease,” he jerks away from your body, and the moment the door opens.

You clear your throat. Fiddling around, and avoiding the doctor’s eyes. He looks between you and Jax before settling himself in a chair. He has to know. Whatever this is between you and Jax is palatable, “Any bleeding?”

“No,” you answer shortly. Keeping your eyes on the ceiling. You don’t think. You don’t feel. You hate feeling invasive people around you, and this doctor wanted to know everything about your body. Growing up you always had someone poking and prodding you.

“Well, it seems your mother won’t have to marry you off. Such a disappointment,” gritting your teeth, your eyes roll closed as a single tear falls from your eyes. Like it was your choice. They were all the same. You’re sure this doctor is far from being an innocent man. Rumor has it he enjoyed his title, which is why Jax didn’t leave you. This doctor wouldn’t hesitate to pressure you into pleasuring him. Acting like he was the epitome of an upstanding citizen.

“That’s enough,” Jax answers, and starts pushing the doctor’s hands away from you. Between his harsh words, and him having his hands on you, Jax has had enough. “That’s enough! Get your fucking hands off her!” The doctor stands abruptly, pushing away from you, and Jax rushes to him. Towering over the sniveling doctor, and he presses his forearm against his neck.

Jax’s neck twists and pops at an awkward angle. Staring wildly at the doctor. He’d said the wrong thing. You lurch up on the table, pushing your dress down and begin cowering away from them as Jax bangs him up against the wall.

“Do you even know who you’re talking to? What is growing in her belly? Do you know who we are?”

“A bastard priest, and a bastard,” Jax slaps him across the face. “In her belly,” grabbing the doctor’s shoulders, he knees him hard in the gut. Letting his groaning body fall to the ground. “I’ll have you arrested, boy.”

“Jax!” You shout, covering your ears. He was going to be thrown under the jail. He was going to leave you, and then you were doubly shamed. His fists pound into the doctor with sickening thuds, “Stop it! Stop!!” Jax stands, panting. And brushing his hair back with bloody hands. He smirks down at the doctor before spitting on him.

”I want to go home now!”

“Does the slut even have a home? Or is she keeping your bed warm, Father Teller,” his laugh is gurgled in blood, and Jax kicks him while you jump off the table. “He will use you, princess.”

“Haven’t you heard?” You stand tall with your chin tilting upwards. “I’m already used up,” you click out of the office. Holding onto the dignity that you have remaining. He can talk about you like you’re nothing more than an object for greedy men. But you’re not. You’re so much more than that. You have a choice.

Jax remains, and he leans down to the doctor’s ear, “Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.”

His eyes go wide as he stares up at him. “No. No!” A revolting crunch stops his screaming instantly. Jax’s head quivers with intense rage before he screams at the limp man on the floor. Disgusting. Vile.

“It isn’t complete!” A nurse screams as she walks into the room. Horrified as she stares at the deceased man. “If you have a problem, you can contact The Society,” she shakes her head, running away from Jax. Jax knows that they will clean this up. They’ll make it all disappear. He didn’t care. But you would not be disrespected. You would not be made to feel less than when you are carrying a miracle.

You would change it all.

Jax runs his fingers through his hair. Slicking back each strand as he watches you cry and pray on your knees. So devout. And yet, you were cast aside like filth. Made to feel that you weren’t being used as a grand design. You were a goddess. Something that people seemed to forget. But he couldn’t forget it. He’s felt your power mingling with his own.

Now all they cared about is the babe in your belly. They didn’t even see you. You are only the vessel, and the couldn’t understand how important you were. Jax sees. But he also knows who you belong to. And it’s not them. Neither does the baby belong to them.

Taking a deep breath, you sit back into the pew. Your hand rubs over your stomach as you stare in awe at the altar. “I never put much thought into religion,” you gaze up at the paintings, sculptures, lights, all the grandeur of the church. Those judging eyes looking at you. Determining your eternal life, “But they’re wrong for casting me out. I didn’t ask for this.”

“You were to be married?” Wiping away your tears, you nod your head, “Did you love him?”

“I didn’t really know him. But I was to lay in the bed while he filled me with his seed, and I produced heirs for him,” you chuckle. What a life this was. You were expected to be the most pure thing, while also becoming a broodmare for the man with the most money. Men that bargained for your virtue like some prize pig.

“I wasn’t anything to my family. Useless really. I can’t carry on their name. I can’t rule over their kingdom. I can’t do anything but incubate a child for a man. And then when the worst thing someone could imagine happens, I became impure. Carrying my shame right under my heart.”

“Do you love the baby?”

You shrug. There is judgment all around you. But what judgment did your family face for throwing you and their grandchild away? “I don’t know. I feel this odd detachment sometimes. But I don’t hate him. Or her,” you chuckle as you rub your hands up and down the baby’s home. Such a small human changed so much. “How many lashes did you give your back for what we did?”

Jax slowly stands up. He turns towards the aisle, and walks right up to the altar. He doesn’t bother with any rituals. He surpassed that when he had you. He doesn’t serve a god. He’s become one. He undoes the buttons of his shirt. Letting it fall on the floor. The shirt is heavy with grief, but Jax is now free. Free from all the humanly bonds that kept him contained.

His eyes flutter closed when your fingers start caressing his scars. Your precious unblemished skin skims over his gnarly back, and you whimper, “None are fresh,” you whisper. His scars look more like the cut wings of a fallen angel. “You’re not sorry for having me in that way?”

“No,” his voice is animalistic. Nostrils flaring as the sanctuary’s candles flare to life. “And I’m going to have you again,” you yip as he pulls you in front of him. His hands coax you to lay flat, and he stalks around your body. Looking around at all the eyes that have judged both of you so harshly.

“She. Is. Mine!” His arms spread out wide. Pacing around. Making eye contact with every saint. “And you can’t do anything about it,” a roll of thunder vibrates through the building, and you inch your dress higher. If sinning was so bad, why did it feel so good? You’d go to the pits of hell if it meant keeping Jax.

“You can’t touch me now! I did this. I did it for all of you!” He rips open his slacks, and steps in between your legs. “I’m going to have you properly this time,” leaning forward, he rips open your dress. Giving you nothing to hide your transgressions. Your sins on display for all the marble eyes in the church. And when you’re bare before him, his hand flattens on your tummy, “And he’s mine, too.”

Kicking his boots aside, he yanks down his pants, revealing his own sins to you. Marks of which you’ve never seen inked on his skin. Runes decorate so much of his body, and you are curious as to what they mean.

“You’re mine,” you nod. Gulping as he kneels to the floor. His cock glistening in the diffused light. Yours. All yours. He could ravish you, and you’d thank him over and over again. You actually study his member for the first time. Desiring to kiss upon the head while you look up at Jax. You had him inside of you. “Growing inside of you” he nods as he settles himself lower.

“Do you hate me?” You shake your head no as he crashes into you. Setting your body on fire as you arch into his embrace. He spreads your cunt so wide that it stings. And you deliciously take every veiny inch of his steel rod, “You could never hate me. I saved you. I saved us!”

You didn’t understand. It feels as if it’s a fever having him like this. The flashes from that night confuse your mind, and you push them away. Replacing them with something completely different. Hand held out for you. Asking if you want to rid yourself from the pain of your family. Break the cycle of being a tool to further men.

“Can I save you?” Your eyes glaze over. Melding tonight with that moment. Was it Jax? Was it your choice? “Do you want your first time to be taken from you? Do you want to live to serve a man that doesn’t love you? I can save you.”

“Save me,” you beg. Jax’s thrusts become harsh as he smiles down at you. He snaps his hips into your body, while all the saints and sinners view everything. You hide nothing now. “Save me!” You screamed as the rain poured down. He covered your mouth, but nobody could hear your screaming. Nobody cared for you. Jax offered you a way out. You just didn’t realize. He was your saving grace. Your sanctuary when there was no other way out.

“Oh god,” your back is so arched that your head tilts backwards. “Oh. God!” This is unlike either time. This is cleansing. It’s heavenly. It’s taking you to a different plane of existence. Finally realizing the divine plan all along. He had you. He had all of you. It was always him. Always your choice. You have him just the way it was intended. The two of you doing what is natural. What your body craves, and is intended to do. The difference being, you want it. You want him. You want this depraved feeling with him.

“I am god. I’m your god. And I will serve you, princess. Mine,” blinding pleasure ripples through your body as Jax takes control. Repeating those four sentences over and over again. “My goddess. Nobody can touch us. They need us,” what God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.

Your pleasure-addled brain fuses the statues into hooded people. Circling around the sanctuary as they watch a heavenly bond between you and Jax. You made this choice. The choice was him. Sinfully it was him. You are free. Free of the life you were bred into.

“One.”

Your eyes close as your body reaches a new peak. A peak you have never been before. The journey wasn’t traditional, but you willfully and blindly followed Jax.

“Two.”

Stepping right to the ledge. You take a deep breath. Readying yourself for the plunge.

”Three!”

You dive into the murky waters as your body sets sail to new heights. And you come undone. Your velvety walls putting Jax in a chokehold. Screaming out, “Oh god,” as Jax’s warmth fills your body, and he pants down at you. Chest heaving as he kisses around the perimeter of your face. Holding himself inside your heat while you come to.

“Shh,” he whispers on your skin. “I won’t let anyone take you from me. Keep your eyes just on me. Just on me, Princess,” that title has never felt right. But it did now. You were his. His princess.

The cloaked man tilts his head as the final hooded figure comes out of the church, and right up to him. Giving him a single nod. “Four, five, six, seven,” he says with a smirk. Then the man cracks his neck as he gets into the carriage.

“She’s ready to meet me. Wonder how Father Teller will react to her attraction to me?” Opie turns and looks at the man. “I’m sure he’ll be green with envy.”

“Where to, Mr. Levinson?”

“Let’s stay close. I’m sure those two are going to be fucking all night long. I do enjoy watching,” with a crack of the whip, the carriage pulls off. “It’s almost done.”

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@theinheriteddutchess @thedreadandthefugitivemind @rainydayandmondays @welp-heregoessomething @distractingbeth

[anonymouscheeses]

Vaggie and Valentino are connected and no one has been talking about it (I think 😭)

Brutha. I've always known this but like these two are surface level similar yet so SO SO SOOOO different its terrifying.

Question might be, why tf am I comparing the r*pist and the beautiful, gorgeous, fantastic, inspiring, humble, generous, smeggsy, former angel?

Simply because they are both moth demon's that speak Spanish. It's a bit too specific. And rlly that's kind of all I have right now. Sure, you could say "erm actually, Vaggie isn't a moth demon 🤓" and ur probably right. But if she's not, why is it that in her redesign for the show they lean into the moth hair? It's look much MUCH more moth than in the pilot. So if Viv wanted to stray away from the moth theme, why make it look more like that? She may not he exactly a moth demon but she does have intentional moth features. Perhaps Vaggie just disguised herself like that, either way, still a connection..

I would get it if one of them were in helluva boss jst as a way to recycle and make room or whatever. But no, they are in the same show, same world, same ring of hell, same city(I think). It's a weird connection and I kind of don't want it to exist. Like at all. Because if they are connected I can't think of any other way they are except that Val could be a fallen angel. Which I CANT imagine. Unless Vaggie is like, a winner that became an exterminator, but genuinely that would be a bit complex. But what isn't in this show. Then again, Adam said he created her, or that could be a metaphor for that Vaggie was never noticed as a human and just brushed off to the side so therefore Adam "created" her (created a name and image/status of her). But that's unlikely, I don't they would be that smart lmao.

Personality wise, they both have anger issues. Pilot Vaggie and show Valentino are more alike but show Vaggie is still somewhat spicy. They also both have hot voices, sorry not sorry, like fuck Val (not literally) but his voice is BAZINGA 😍 and I'm a simp for Stephanie Beatriz. I'm a simple gal.

Design wise they have rare commonalities. They are both heavily red but thats everyone in the show it make my eyes bleed. But. A weird thing someone pointed out in a slideshow on tiktok is that show Valentino has white stripes on his hips. Me personally I'm not sure what to think about it really. Like I mean it IS a new detail that spawned AFTER the pilot and it is like... on the EXACT place. But like, it's such a weird thing to include when it's such a common pose yknow?

Also the X's on the boobs are so sensual I cannot be the only one. And ykno Val is the king of sensual (🤮)

Maybe you could be asking, "if Val and Vaggie r connected jst because they are moth demons then that jst means that anyone that are the same species are somehow tied to eachother huh? 🤓" like Angel Dust and Zestial. But what I think differs from that is the fact these two have actual big similarities apart from jst the fact they are moths. Like what I just explained, personality, design, both speak Spanish. While Angel Dust and Zestial are only just both spiders. Angel's reason for being a spider is due to the ykno, "web of crime" thing. And Zesty man? Idk he probably got bit and fucking died by a poisonous spider. I mean, health shit wasn't exactly great back in his ye olde time.

For Val and Vaggie we have NO idea why they are moths

But I did find this! From google AI.....? (I didn't even know that was a thing..) but, I think it's true. It explains the dynamic with Angel alot and I think that's an interesting detail.

Which could also apply to Vaggie because of her hyper-dependency on Charlie.

Plus this fits Vaggie so. SO much. If my theory that Vaggie just disguised herself as a moth to blend in then that would be a good connection to the entire moth motif. Love, I don't even need to explain.

It can fit Val too if you think abt the disguise part a bit. Like he disguises himself as this charming and calming figure to avoid suspicion and lure victims... fucking creepy 🤮

Also in Vaggie's past designs she was more moth.

Here is like. ONE image I could find that wasn't too blurry. Like I wouldn't say it's heavy moth but I think if you asked me what insect she was based off I would guess moth in like a few minutes. The colors being dark, the fluffy legwarmers. Yum, that's a mothy. (THIS DESIGN YHO KINDA PISSES ME OFF. WHY IS THERE THE FEMALE SIGN OK HER SHIRY I THOUGHT SHE WAS STRAIGHT IN THIS VER??? also str8 vaggie scares me don't ever bring up that thing around me. They are NOT the same. #notmyvagina)

From what I know there aren't any previous old beta designs of Valentino, so he was likely made for the show specifically.

Overall, they are both sexy Spanish speakers who are moth demons, in the same show, oddly specific connected design choices, and have some anger issues.

Oh also they both hate Angel Dust 💜

[maegalkarven]

I just thought of the most hilarious next protagonist of Baldur's Gate saga.

(Note what most of the outcomes used as background info here come from the characters' "good" endings. Proceed with caution.)

A child of Durge and Gortash, killed inside their parent's womb when Durge denied Bhaal, resurrected alongside them by Jergal.

A child any of The Dead Three can lay a claim on because they are:

A child of previous chosen of Bane

A child of Bhaalspawn, a bhaalspawn themselves, albeit striped of that when Bhaal took his essence from Durge, killing them instantly.

DIED before even being born, so clearly Myrkul's subject.

Resurrected by Jergal, so there's ties to that as well.

Can be compelled to follow any of The Dead Three paths, or try to play them and set them against each other, or follow Jergal, or forge their own path.

Essentially a child with no fate.

Can look either as Durge (and be any race Durge presented as) or as Gortash.

The last possibility bringing unique encounters and dialogues and character never knowing they can use being Lord Gortash's child to their advantage or ppl they meet were their father's enemies and they need to dash.

Having ties to different fractions depending on who Durge romanced or if Durge not romanced anyone.

Being raised in Underdark if their parent ended up with Minthara.

Same with unascended Astarion, + lots of acquainted spawns in the Underdark.

Being raised in Hell if their parent went to Avernus with Karlach.

Being raised either in Waterdeep if Gale is their stepfather or with Duke freaking Ravengard as a step- grandfather.

Having ties with Selunites if Shadowheart is a woman they call mother.

Being raised in the nature and having Druids call them their own if Durge and Halsin were involved.

Being raised amongst githianki revolution if Lae'zel was their parent's choice of heart. Having their mother leading a rebellion against a god.

Having lots of unique content regarding that.

Possible companions include:

Arabella

Mol

Yenna

That girl who was kidnapped and eaten by auntie Ethel.

Mayrina's child.

A child of lady Janneth and Oscar.

One or several of Jaheira's grandchildren.

[thegreatpapaya666]

Vox Headcanons

(I was working on these with a friend :3)

- Vox is a transgender man. - He has 11 sharks named Victor, Veronica, Vivian, Vincent, Viera, Victoria, Vance, Veer, Valkyrie, Vanessa, and Vark. - He is dating Valentino, though it is an explicitly stated "open relationship." Valentino often gets jealous of Vox flirting with other people, though, and the "open" status is subject to change on a dime. - Vox forgets to eat and sleep until either Valentino and Velvette remind him, or he passes out from exhaustion. - He puts his work before everyone else in his life, even himself. - He was friends with Alastor for a long time and gained most of his current power from working with Alastor. But after confessing his love to Alastor and his feelings not being returned, Vox didn't take the rejection well and fought him. He almost lost the fight, but Alastor chose to spare him and Valentino found him hours later. - The fallout was also caused by Vox changing as a person, being corrupted by the technological advances he was making with VoxTek. After partnering with Valentino, changing his own head from a CRT TV to a flat screen TV, using mind control to manipulate his viewers, and neglecting the quality of his products, Alastor felt like Vox was a different person. - Vox still has a crush on Alastor, though he hides it behind a facade of hatred and disgust. - Vox is an ENTJ. - He's touch starved. - Vox is horrible with kids, but connects with children on the autism spectrum. - Vox can open internet tabs in his brain, as well as view security footage and send messages. Everything he sees is recorded with high-quality video and audio. - Every interaction he's had with Alastor is saved in a folder buried deep in his files that he only opens during "alone time." - When Vox dreams, they're projected on his screen for anyone to see. He doesn't know about this. - Vox's screen gets a pink tint when he blushes. - His antennae twitch when he's overwhelmed or flustered. - Vox can show pictures and videos on his screen. - He can play piano and guitar. - When asked the question, "ass, tits, or thighs," he always picks ass. - He's somewhere on the aromantic spectrum. - Vox is always up by 5 AM and never sleeps in. - He can turn his pain, auditory, olfactory, and taste receptors on and off. - Vox had a traumatic childhood with a verbally abusive mother and a physically abusive father. - He had a brother who also went to Hell, but he hasn't been able to locate him. - Vox is a switch but prefers to top because of how much he likes being in control. - He's autistic. - When he was alive, he had a wife who he would frequently cheat on, and two children named Alice and James. - The first time Vox had sex with a man was drunk with Valentino, who was his bisexual awakening. - Vox was popular in school. - When he spawned in Hell, he changed his name from Mary to Vox as a fresh start. - He sleeps in shark themed boxers. - During game night with the rest of the Vees, when it's his turn to pick the game, he always picks Monopoly. Valentino and Velvette have yet to beat him, but they have an evil plan to cheat and make Vox cry and are going to enact it next game night. - He wears rainbow striped socks. - Vox sometimes listens to musical soundtracks while he's working. - His favorite drink is bourbon. - His favorite color is red, but he always lies and says it's blue. - Vox's favorite food is Alastor's jambalaya, but he'll never tell anyone. - He's from New Jersey. - He owns a shark onesie he wears for sleepovers. - You know those Terms of Service nobody reads when you make an account on a new website or agree to a new setting? Well Vox manipulates the fine print to be used as a soul contract if you own your soul. That's how he rose to power so quickly, because millions of unsuspecting sinners were unknowingly giving Vox their souls by signing up for Sinstagram and other apps.

[crusherthedoctor]

It really is not just annoying, but also somewhat sad, that IDW characters can never have a meaty role without shamelessly upstaging a game character. It's the ultimate play of insecurity.

Tangle gets touted as the Sonic Female of All Time while the crewmembers drag the game females through the mud.

Whisper gets randomly fawned over by Silver and Jet of all guys.

Lanolin humiliates Silver and treats him like a child.

Rough and Tumble are too much for Cream the OP to handle.

Starline was hyped up for an extended period as Eggman's superior (no, his final fate did not undo sitting through his agonizing "Sonic VS Eggman is routine" soapboxing).

Surge is being hyped up for even longer as the most badass villain and the most badass character period, despite having absolutely nothing of merit to show for it.

Is it really that hard to find a middle ground? I get you want your character(s) to do big things and be a legitimate part of the cast instead of sitting in the background with their thumbs twiddling, but this is not the way to do it. Trip was only recently introduced to the series, and she found her place just fine. She didn't need to effortlessly beat up Sonic in concept art in order to earn her stripes. She didn't need her creators to brag that she would improve Forces through her mere presence in order to cement her value.

Look. I talk a lot about Trudy. I talk a lot about her role in my fic, her interactions, her dynamics, her abilities, her quirks, all that good stuff. I take her role in the story quite seriously, and in an age where it's become taboo to have your OC do literally anything with the game cast (because overcorrection), I've stuck to my guns and made her a big part of the fic.

But - and this is a big but - none of this comes at the cost of the other characters, or the story as a whole. Sonic is still Sonic, and acts as you'd expect from him. Tails is still Tails, and isn't dismissed by the narrative as a mere sidekick to prop up Trudy as the "true" hero by comparison. Amy is still her bubbly self, not morphed into a Sally clone. Cream is still capable, despite her youth and innocence, and her bond with Trudy doesn't reduce her to literal baby. Eggman treats Trudy no differently from the rest of the cast, and he sure as hell doesn't show any fear at the prospect of facing her. Stellar is not little more than The Trudy Show: it's Sonic's latest adventure in a new land that Trudy happens to be tagging along for, and how he leaves an impression on her. Just like Unleashed did with Chip, and Secret Rings did with Shahra, among other examples.

Even Sonudis, for as Never Going To Happen In Canon For Very Obvious Reasons as it is, is still made with the mentality of not only what Sonic himself is actually like in canon, but the others too. It's not a shallow bait that exists solely to exist, it's something I took seriously in regards to how it could potentially work without sacrificing Sonic's official characterization. Is it a fanfic cliche? Is it self-indulgent? Maybe, but writing fanfic in general is inherently self-indulgent. The sooner you accept that, the better. But as fanfic-y as some concepts may be, I still try to portray them as naturally and as faithfully as I can in respect to the games that spawned this franchise. That includes not reducing Sonic to a lap dog with no independence or backbone.

You can make your character important, and even give them a risky role if you're daring, without disrespecting the game cast and what they contribute to the franchise.

[hobbysognodilibri]

Okay okay okay

My brother made the biggest brain take on my OC

He’s giving Paladin of the Sun God

His name is up in the air *but* I’m very partial to Caladin which is very funny to me

White blonde hair, tall, dark toned and sun kissed skin, bright gold eyes

Naturally acquired Resonance ability

*Is* the big scary dog privilege-

He looks like he came straight out of an ancient world where dragons must’ve roamed- it’s giving Paladin of a Son God

As for his play style, he feels like an on field DPS *or* an off field sub DPS with some kind of grouping or AoE ability-

Very light color schemes with whites and golds- and probably black or a deep blue as a base color for some contrast???

Some defining features- probably his gauntlets looking weird as hell- either very ancient tech or something lost in the CoS. And a diadem. Couldn’t tell you why- but I bet he’d wear one. Very Paladin coded of him.

Model size would be similar to Yhan??? This man is big. Has a very strict moral compass but no one can figure out what the fuck it is. Very soft with kids but an utterly terrible influence. Calls children “Littles”, “Little ones”, or “Spawn” exclusively. Hand him a baby and you will watch a full grown man look visibly pained. He does not know how to hold babies. Please don’t trust him with your kids. He will give them knives and encourage they pursue vengeance.

Tacet Mark location: vertically striped from cheek bone to jaw

Holy shit you have him!!!

Dude that sounds insanely cool! The vibes, the color palette, the CoS, (the in-game model cough cough), the love kids but do not leave him with one unsupervised

Love the tacet mark placement it feels perfect

"has a very strict moral compass but no one can figure out what the fuck It Is" that's such a mood and such a vibe love it

Oh how I'd love to see a design for the gauntlet... So I'm assuming he'd be a limited 5* with his signature

Do you have any idea yet on how to link him to the Court of Savantae? What about his birthplace? Do you know that or are you leaving it blank bc mystery? Uuuh other questions... Oh yeah since he's a natural resonator... Does he know how his forte awakened and do you have anything in mind as to how his control over it changed as he grew up?

Ofc feel free to ignore the questions, they're there if you ever feel like answering

[theblackbookofarkera]

Daralazha

In the sacred mythology of the Pamarang pantheon, there exists a divine duality in the form of twin goddesses: Lahza, who rules the ever-changing moon, and her sister Daralazha, whose unwavering vigilance protects the boundaries between worlds.

Where Lahza embodies the fluid grace of moonlight and the eternal dance of lunar phases, Daralazha stands as immovable as the mountains. Her visage, though bearing her sister's celestial beauty, is marked by eyes that have witnessed countless ages of warfare between the realms. She wears armor of obsidian scales that never reflects light, but seems to absorb it into depths unknown.

Daralazha's choice of celibacy sets her apart from the often-passionate deities of the Pamarang pantheon. While her sister Lahza's tales are filled with love affairs and divine unions, Daralazha took an eternal vow of solitude, believing that to guard the gates of hell requires a focus undiluted by worldly attachments. Some myths whisper that her commitment to celibacy came after witnessing how love had weakened other gods, making them vulnerable to the temptations of the underworld.

As Keeper of Devils, Daralazha's primary domain lies at the threshold where reality frays into nightmare. The gates of hell under her watch are not mere portals but vast cosmic wounds in the fabric of existence, eternally threatening to tear wider. Here she maintains her endless vigil, accompanied by her legendary army - one million winged she-tigers whose roars can shake the foundations of both heaven and earth.

These fearsome guardians, known as the Rasha-vihi, are said to have been born from Daralazha's own shadow. Each bears distinctive striped markings that glow with an inner fire, and their wings are formed from the same dark metal as their mistress's armor. They possess both the cunning of tigers and the tactical minds of divine warriors, making them the perfect sentinels for both upper and lower realms.

The goddess's stern nature serves a vital purpose in the cosmic order. While other deities might be swayed by prayers or offerings, Daralazha's judgments are as absolute as the laws of nature themselves. She permits no negotiation with the damned, no bargaining with devils, and no corruption of the boundaries she protects. This unwavering dedication has earned her many titles among the Pamarang faithful: the Unyielding One, the Night's Shield, and the Empress She-Tiger.

Yet despite her harsh aspect, or perhaps because of it, Daralazha is also seen as a protector of justice and order. Her presence serves as a reminder that some boundaries must never be crossed, some rules never broken. Temples dedicated to her are sparse and austere, typically built at crossroads or city gates, where supplicants come not to ask for favors but to seek the strength to maintain their own vigilance against darkness.

In Pamarang artworks, Daralazha is traditionally depicted in three forms: as a solitary warrior with a spear of starlight, as a robed judge weighing the souls of the dead, or as a magnificent field commander leading her army of winged tigers against waves of chaos-spawned horrors. In all representations, her expression remains the same - a mask of divine determination that neither wavers nor weakens, eternal as the stars themselves.

[bucketspammer4life]

Punch out boxers and what pet(s) they would have

hey bestie, exam season is almost over so im recovering a bit so why not give this to you all??

Glass Joe - small, fluffy and cute white cat that is the spawn of satan, knocking shit over, eating your food, wrecking the couch, massacring the toilet paper, all while looking adorable, named "Bouffon", sometimes called bonbon because of it

Von Kaiser - a doberman thats scary as shit but a complete angel, very loud barks when scared but very cute otherwise, named "Turm"

Disco Kid - an african grey parrot that never shuts up, really cool but still the spawn of hell to a certain point, always singing or quoting stuff,named "Angel"

King Hippo - a capybara & a turtle, he lets the capybara on his bed and the turtle has its own pond, both of them are pretty chill and the most evil they do is just bumping into doors, the capybara is named "coco" since Hippo made a hat for it using a coconut shell, the turtle is named "Reef" since he ran out of ideas

Piston Hondo - some koi fish & a praying mantis, he has a pond for his fish and decorates it, meditating there when the weathers right, the praying mantis has its own terrarium and doesnt let it out unless he has to change up something since hes paranoid about crushing it, the koi fish dont have names but the praying mantis is named "リーフ" (Leaf) since he found it fighting some bug on a leaf

Bear Hugger - besides the squirrel (we dont count mrs bear since shes more of a friend and it would be rude to call her a pet)he has a pet snail and a rabbit, the snail is one of his first pets and he got it when he first started his boxing career and found it in the showers after a match, its named "squeaky" because of that, he actually found the rabbit not too long ago after feeding it some dandelions, it just came over to his house on a daily basis after a while and he accepted it, the rabbits named "Dandy" since bear hugger saw it eating a dandelion and ran with it

Great Tiger - has a pet snake & a gecko, the snake has a pattern somewhat reminiscent of a tiger with its Orange & Black stripes, despite its fierce appearance, its pretty shy and hides a lot, the gecko is the opposite of that: it may look not very intimidating but its a menace, the snake is named "tiger" (how creative) and the gecko is named "Woob", aran came up with the name after taking a glare at it and just saying "woob."

Don Flamenco - other than the spider that carmen owns, he has a pet goldfish named "Fish" that he he just feeds and fucks off, he has 0 emotional attachment to it, he could see it dead and he would go "damn sucks to suck" And move on, hes not the one for pets

Aran Ryan - a mountain lion he thought was just a really big cat, he gave it a bath, fed it some meat and just adopted it, it doesnt really mind but its like... really confused, aran named it "princess", the way he found out was him inviting bear hugger over and seeing him go "IS THAT A FUCKING MOUNTAİN LION" the moment princess walked out of the bathroom after eating the toilet paper again

Soda Popinski - a husky thats absolutely running from place to place 99% of the time, its sometimes a bit mishievious but pretty well behaved, its named "soda" since thats pretty much his idea of a cute name

Bald Bull - a lazy fat ass street cat that sleeps most of the time or just eats food, its mishievious but not enough to bother moving, its suprisingly good at opening cabinets and eating to its own hearts content, he really has no way to stop it, named "Tombili"

Super Macho Man - a shi tzu named "puffy" that likes to nibble on wood, its very fluffy since he takes great care to brush it

Mr Sandman - Not the type own a pet since hes indecisive about it, had a few pet goldfish before but thats about it for him

[bethanythebogwitch]

It’s once again time for me to talk about the real-life inspirations for every fish Pokémon. Today I’ll be covering generations V and VI. For previous generations check here and here.

The Unova games were the first ones I played and so a lot of the gen V Pokémon are special to me. This is not the case for Basculin. These stupid fish made any time spent on the water a living hell and they don’t even have the decency to evolve into something good like Zubat. Basculin was added to the Unova dex last minute to fill out the fish archetype and they really shouldn’t have bothered as this Pokémon is pretty garbage. But wait, what’s this? BAH GAWD IT’S HISUI WITH AN EVOLUTION! Basculegion redeems white-striped Basculin as a concept by giving it a pretty awesome evolution. Only white-striped Basculin though, red and blue still stink since they can’t evolve. Anyway, they’re bass, most likely largemouth bass as they are large, predatory, and the dex entries say they put up a hell of a fight when hooked. Largemouth bass are a very common predatory fish in north America and have been introduced to freshwater systems around the world due to them being incredibly popular amongst anglers for the fight they put up. This has led to them becoming invasive species in many regions, which could be why Basculin can be found in every region since Unova.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH (image: a largemouth bass)

Basculin’s aggressive nature could be based on common misconceptions about piranhas (see the gen III entry for more info about that) and their different colors and habit of fighting each other could be based on bettas, which are famous for being colorful and ready to throw down at the drop of a hat. The color differences of the Basculins could be based on allopatric speciation. This is when a population gets split by some geographic feature and the populations on each side start developing differently to each other. If that is the case, all I can say is that the Shellos line did it better. White-striped Basculin takes the same inspirations as red and blue and adds in salmon. Like salmon, they swim up rivers to spawn and their jaws have points like kypes, those weird jaw hooks that male salmon get.

Puberty hits the salmon the way Godzilla hit Tokyo (image: a male salmon in breeding season)

Basculegion continues the salmon trend of white-striped Basculin, while also adding some Ainu inspiration. Ainu legend has the ciray, a gigantic salmon or taimen (a salmon relative) that can eat deer and boars. It also drawn influence from a type of Ainu boat called the itaomacip, hence its use as a ride Pokémon in Hisui. The Ainu are indigenous people hailing from Hokkaido, the Japanese island that inspired Hisui. Basculegion status as a combination of fish souls may be inspired by schooling fish, though in this case the whole school is one fish. I also think it has some definite inspiration from decorative carp streamers. The color differences between male and female Basculegion is inspired by the sexual dimorphism in salmon and relatives. Both sexes change color during mating season, but males become much more vibrant than females. Wow, I did not think I would have this much to say about Basculin.

Alomomola should be the long-needed evolution for Luvdisc, but it isn’t. Hell, the devs know it should be an evolution and teased us by putting Luvdisc in Alomomola’s Paldea pokedex picture. It’s a mola mola, also known as the ocean sunfish. I mentioned these previously while discussing Sharpedo. They are gigantic and weird animals that look like somebody chopped the back half off of a fish.

(image: an ocean sunfish)

like Alomomola, the mola is a gentle giant that moves slowly and is basically incapable of actually hurting anything. The sunfish’s diet consists largely of jellyfish, which is why Alomomola lives in the same places as the Frillish line. Its fins look like hands and its body looks like a heart, making it a possible reference to the Claddagh ring, an Irish symbol consisting of two hands clasping a crowned heart, representing love, loyalty, and friendship, fitting for a defensive support Pokémon. Alomomola’s tendency to wrap itself in a protective membrane is likely a reference to parrotfish, who incase themselves in a  protective mucus cocoon when sleeping. Alomomola’s role as a healer fish may be inspired by cleaner fish (who clean parasites and dead skin off of larger fish, something that molas often need) and the red garra, a fish often used in spas to eat dead skin off of people’s feet.

What’s this? A non-water type fish? Yes, it’s the Tynamo line. Anyway, these fellows have an interesting inspiration. They’re based on lampreys and electric eels, two animals that are often called eels but aren’t. Electric eels are a genus of knifefish while lampreys aren’t even fish. Maybe. This gets complicated. Starting simple, electric eels are famous for their ability to generate electricity, though this isn’t unique to them. The ability of an animal to generate electricity is called electrogenesis and it is usually used to detect prey by creating an electric field and then sensing changes in the field. A few animals take this farther by generating enough electricity to stun or kill prey and potential predators. Electrogenesis and electroreception are mostly seen in aquatic animals as water is a much better conductor than air. Electric eels are easily the most famous electric fish, capable of delivering very painful shocks to humans. Studies on it appear to have influence some very important inventions in the study of electricity. Electric eels are also obligate air-breathers, being incapable of breathing water. This could be a reason why the Tynamo line live outside of water.

More like EELectric, am I right guys? ...Guys? (image: an electric eel)

Lampreys are also capable of electroreception, though they can’t generate shocks like electric eels. Lampreys are some of the only surviving agnathans, a group commonly known as the jawless fishes for pretty self-evident reasons. Most agnathans went extinct due to competition from jawed fish (gnathostomes) but the lampreys and hagfish managed to hold on. Lampreys are famous for their conical mouths, which they use to suction onto things. While the Tynamo line are based on the more famous parasitic lampreys, who suction onto other fish to drink their blood, the majority of lamprey species are harmless algae-eaters.

Gimmie a kiss (image: a lamprey, mouth toward the camera)

Tynamo is distinct from its later forms in that it looks like a leptocephalus larva, a type of fish larva known for a body plan that looks like a transluscent leaf with a head on one end. Leptocephalus larvae are found in fish of the superorder elopomorpha, which includes eels among others. So an eel larva evolves into a combination of to animals that are often called eels but aren’t. I love it.

(image: a leptocephalus larva)

Tynamo may also be based on early lightbulbs like the Crookes tube. The lamprey brings up to the complicated question of “what is a fish?”. From the standpoint of a fisherman, a fish is any scaly thing with gills that lives in the water, but when you look at things from a taxonomic viewpoint, it’s much more complicated. Because you can’t evolve out of your ancestry and belong to any categories your ancestors belonged to, any attempt to classify all scaly things with gills that live in the water in the same clade results in every vertebrate falling under the fish classification. This is why, to taxonomists, there is no such thing as a fish. it’s simply not possible to put bony fish, cartilaginous fish, and jawless fish in a category together without making that category so overly broad it isn’t useful.

It’s flat fuck Friday and I’m talking about Stunfisk. Its biggest influence seems to be the flounder, the most famous of the flatfish, though flounders lie on their side and stunfisk lies on its underbelly.

(image: a flounder)

Because of this, it likely also draws influence from stingrays, particularly the electric rays, which can release an electric shock to stun prey similarly to the more famous electric eel. This would explain the electric typing.

It's shocking! (image: an electric stingray)

Both Unovan and Galarian Stunfisk live in wet, muddy areas but don’t necessarily live in water. This makes me think of fish that can live both in and out of the water, like walking catfish, mudskippers, and lungfish. These fish can often breathe air and can spend much of not most of their time on land, though they generally must stay in wet environments like beaches and mud puddles. Both forms of Stunfisk are ambush predators, but they employ different strategies. Unaovan Stunfisk simply buries itself under mud and waits for prey to step on it before delivering a shock. Galarian Stunfisk is somewhat more active as it uses aggressive mimicry to actively lure prey in. Disturbingly, it uses a mouth colored like an item ball to lure in prey, suggesting it may be specialized to attract and prey on humans. Because Galarian Stunfisk doesn’t have the electricity generating organs of its Unovan cousins, it relies on strength to take down prey, clamping shut with modified fins that are based on a bear trap.

Moving on to gen VI, we have the Skrelp line. These are based on the weedy seadragon, a relative of the seahorse and pipefish. Like its inspiration, Skrelp relies on defensive mimicry for survival, camouflaging itself as seaweed to avoid predators, and its tail is not prehensile like a seahorse’s would be. Once it evolves, it becomes more of a leafy seadragon, another seahorse relative of seahorses that uses the same defensive mimicry, but it much more elaborate in appearance. However Skrelp and Dragalge are poison-types and I could find no examples of poisonous or venomous seahorses or sea dragons. That being said, there is a possible inspiration for their poison typing. The line is specifically stated to live around rotting seaweed, which emits hydrogen sulfide and ammonia, both of which are toxic to humans and many other animals in high enough doses. Like with Kingdra, Dragalge’s dragon tying comes from the Japanese word for seahorse: “tatsu-no-otoshigo”, which means “dragon’s child”.

(image: a male weedy sea dragon carrying his eggs)

(image: a leafy sea dragon)

Next time I'll cover gens VII and VIII. Gen IX will probably get its own post as there are a surprising amount of fish in Paldea

[aladaylessecondblog]

Mother pt. 5 (raphael x tav)

Author's Note: Ascendeded Astarion is mentioned to have killed a kid but there is no description of the act itself.

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

There were four requirements in the contract Tav signed with Raphael that were constantly on her mind.

One, that souls slain in her name, be they abusive parents, bandits, or any stripe of child-harmers belonged thereafter to Raphael.

Two, that she was to offer aid and assistance in his ongoing war to conquer the hells.

Three, that she had agreed to become his consort once he achieved the status of Archduke - which he now had, since Zariel had been put down.

Four, that every so often she would be required to participate in the torment of a soul of his choosing. As Hope had been freed this was usually one of the debtors that hung around the House of Hope, but today...today was different.

Today the soul in question was Astarion, ascended, recently slain by one of her paladins.

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

"You're late," Tav said, hearing footsteps behind her. "What reason could you have for that?"

"My dear, I've brought you a treat."

Raphael's smooth voice was absolutely diabolical, even more so than usual. Never a good sign.

"And what might it be?"

There was no reply. Tav realized he intended not to speak until she saw for herself what it was. She stood and turned--and instantly, her eyes widened.

Astarion, the same as he had been when he had ascended, stood before her. Oh, perhaps a bit bloodied, and most definitely dead dead, but lookswise...

"How?" she asked, "What did you do to him?"

"Tell her, vampire," Raphael prompted, "Tell her why you stand here beside me."

"I only wanted your attention, darling," Astarion started.

"You--" Tav started, but was interrupted as he went on, almost--fearfully? She couldn't be entirely sure.

"You're a hard woman to get ahold of, and the boy was going to die anyway--"

Her fists burned instantly.

"One of your paladins took the wrong idea about the situation, you see...really, if you hadn't been so aloof, if you hadn't stopped visiting, there need have been no drastic measures taken."

"You killed a boy to get my attention," Tav snarled, "Consider it YOURS."

"Tell me, my dear mouse," Raphael said, in a tone that put her in mind of poisoned honey. His eyes were on her, in eager anticipation, as he walked behind her, "What shall we do with him?"

Tav started at the face that had once been loving, and now only seemed to think of power and control. That face which had accused her of wanting him to stay weak, the face that had said he should have made her a spawn. The face for whom love had not been enough.

"Shall we have him chained up like Hope? Tormented by imps. I'm certain Yurgir would love a turn at someone so full of himself."

"No," Tav said, "None of that."

"Then what?" he went on, and whispered in her ear, "How shall we punish this man who killed one of those you called your own?"

It was in moments like these that she was least detached in the godly way. Moments like these that brought her back down to the ground.

"Nothing bloody. Blood doesn't scare him." Tav paused, "He thinks himself above what he used to be. He thinks himself better than he was. Perhaps...instead of tearing him apart, we might try something else."

"I'm all ears, wife."

"Have the debtors craft a coffin," she looked back at Astarion, whose eyes had widened, and went on, "And lock him in it."

Astarion opened his mouth to protest, but on a spell from her found no sound would escape.

"But when shall we let him out? Never?"

"When Yurgir needs a punching bag, perhaps."

"That could be a while."

She could almost feel the smirk spreading across Raphael's face.

"I'm sorry, star," she said, "But you should have known better. I told you this would make you a monster...and now, I shall treat you as one."

[monstersdownthepath]

God, imagine some poor sap from a village that got attacked by a troll deciding to move to the nearest city for 'safety' only to run into this thing.

How many monsters do you think might be roaming around inside of a major metropolis like Almas or Absalom? On the one hand, big cities tend to have better guards and native adventurers running around. On the other, big cities are big, with plenty of spots to hide in - especially in the slums and sewers. And of course, now I'm reminded of the Witcher series of games, especially the first one that had drowners, a cockatrice, and worse in the sewers, ghosts and wraiths and ghouls in the cemetery, demon dogs just out in the outskirts, and kikimore bursting out from underground in the streets. Good lord Vizima was a nightmare.

first off, how the hell did you put a link into an ask

Secondly, there's unfortunately more than a few. While some are relatively harmless when left alone, there's a generous handful of city-haunters that are actively malevolent, and creep around alleyways in search of prey. Any creature that can reasonably pass itself off as human absolutely loves living in big cities where their predations can go unnoticed by the population at large; two people disappearing in a village is big news everyone will talk about. Two people disappearing in a city of thousands will basically never be noticed.

Gremlins of all shapes and stripes as a rule basically spawn near humanoid civilizations, the bigger the better.

[lesser-mook]

Let's Talk About Deku's girlfriend--- Re: What girlfriend?

Ain't nothing baddie status about momo, she's designed specifically for one purpose, best thing about her is she takes leadership roles from time to time (when ironically she wasn't shy at all in the first season), so this myth that her costume & her coming into her own as a leader is what Horikoshi meant to do but what really happened- is Momo was a snob, and loosened up.

The shy bits happened at random times when the cringe "uwu kawaii" gags had to happen.

But one of her first lines is checking Deku infront of everyone, there was nothing shy about her lmfao.

So when you really look over what actually mattered in these fights- she's filler.

Balsa Yonsa, Ema Guzman, Lila Rira (look em up youngins) those are baddies.

Momo is a bad oc made canon, the most she got to her was giving orders, spawning plot devices, and serving her actual purpose as the token 17yr Senpai-big sister waifu.

Horikoshi really tried to dodge the cap and give a reason as to why a school let this child wear that bullshit costume (and didn't upgrade to anything better neither, just added some stripes lmfao) and the most she got for a winter alteration was a goddamn cape.

LMFAO. Yeaaah, nice try buddy boi. All the studio mandated assshots, cleavage, crotch shots below perspectives- i'd respect the man more if he just admitted he doesn't respect most of his female characters. At all tbh.

Mirko's annoying ass showed up later but she got way more to do than ANY of the 1A girls in terms of badassery. I'll give mirko credit for being a plot-armored up beast, but how does that make any sense? That some random furry shows up & gets more clout in like what? 2 fight scenes than the 1A girls in 2 goddamn movies.

Trying to rationalize it with in-world reasons, EVEN SO FAR as to have that pos Midnight go on a talk show and justify it--

just looks desperate, too desperate to justify 1 guy's need to dehumanize his female characters no matter the cost. Could easily have her evolve her power to spawn portals like Elizabeth Comstock through her hands only or learn to expand portals on the ground via a circle vector like Full Metal Alchemist or expand on where exactly are these objects coming from- give her some unique lore

cause in the manga it looks like she's organically mutating these materials out her skin

in the anime it looks like she's pulling them from an alternate dimension.

See THOSE details, would make her a baddie, amping her power level, giving her more control over her quirk, instead of quirk dictating how she presents herself to the world.

AUTONOMY. But you see, the more a character has that, the less likely they are to be exploited like a piece of meat or an NPC.

And Horikoshi can't have that.

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

As for Ochako? Like i said on another post, her & deku's relationship peaked in Season 1 when their dynamic had actual conversations without a lot of interruption.

The other 18 extras shut the hell up and weren't given too much dialogue yet--- thus the story wasn't a clusterfuck and it felt more focused.

And Horikoshi was fresh, and wasn't panicking thinking "oh shit? I don't know how to actually write a couple what do i do? OH I KNOW, I'll have Ochako overthink her stake in Deku's life & then bottle her feelings for no reason"

AND THEN i'll establish that U.A. forbids students to have relationships which is just...THE LAZIEST method to guarantee that you can have your cake & tease 24/7 but and eat it too without having to develop anyone's relationships

Lazy lazy lazy.

So when the two were interacting in S1? the likelihood of a bullshit distraction was minimal, because the extra's were non factors.

Their little convo in Episode 6 S1 is still one of the most meaningful ship moments in the show for them.

But all you see in those bullshit wholesome compilations is the crap Horikoshi fed you for 6 years to distract you from the fact that AFTER Season 2-- those two not only didn't get any alone time to actually be further closer friends, but because the man refused to commit and develop their relationship....whatdoyaknow? They didn't have a relationship to speak of that would justify being a couple.

Ochako didn't even meet Inko, that cringe speech is technically the closest she got, Deku didn't meet her parents. They never had lunch together, played video games, trained together NOTHING nothing nothing.

BASICs.

So (rhetorically) tell me, what exactly Do.They.Have?

What girlfriend?

Deku was closer to Todoroki in terms of talking & how much time spent, (OVA's, Seasons, Movies) Todoroki has more of a relationship with Mdioriya and guess what?

He showed up AFTER Ochako in the show. Why couldn't Ochako be part of that trio? Despite having one of them most prolific powers in fiction? (tactile telekinesis)

Why is it the boys get upgrades after upgrades but Ochako's main/major quirk upgrade after that plane feat is in the goddamn finale of the ENTIRE story. ....because she talked about love with someone she has zero stake or obligation to, who was cutting her up trying to kill her.

Despite the contrary of my reply. I'm going to be honest op, there's literally nothing to talk about with these two or any of the girls. They're decoration, a wide variety for the rule-34 warriors & bottom feeders to take their pick.

That's their relevance to the fandom, who they like, and what they look like.

Who they are? When has that ever mattered.

Hence referring to Momo as a "baddest bitch", and I'm pretty sure that descriptor has nothing to do with who she is as a character.

The most you can say is: WASTED potential.

Or they "look cute", which is more honest to reality. Their reality of relevance to the fandom.

(Will space out the paragraphs & add more visual another time, this is just a last min dump)

[radioiaci]

Miles' desire for things to 'work' as much as Alastor did was probably not equivalent. He kept that to himself, however, seemingly accepting of the situation with a slight shrug before he was snapping fingers. Using a bit of that Hell magic to conjure up a useful glamour on Miles. He looked a little too human. So Alastor was going to grant him a nice pair of black and white horns to go along with red flesh and white-striped limbs that ended in claws on both hands and feet. Complete with a nice, pointy tail and yellow eyes to bring it all together.

"There we go! Can't have you standing out too much, now can we? Now, you look like any other imp. Less likely that one will find it prudent to snatch you up like a child from the crib that way!"

No, he had not prepped Miles for that at all. Expected him to take it in stride. Because he would not give him time to adjust to his new appearance before he was suddenly, and possibly comically, POOFING them from the living world right into the chaotic streets of the Pentagram. Only not immediately relocating them to the hotel to very graciously at least give Miles a moment to adjust to a new reality as a whole.

"I would not try to take in everything at once," he replied. Watching, with some dull interest, as a few Sinners across the street where they'd spawned began to tussle and fight. Until one ended up being rather viciously stabbed to death by the other.

"It's an acquired taste."

There was a small bundle of nerves and fear, though Miles was doing his absolute best to stomp it way down, especially in front of the radio demon. Didn't want to let blood in the water, so to speak. And besides! He was prepared and knew how to somewhat handle himself! It would all be forgotten briefly as he prickled at the casual insults though, his tone coming out curt as he jabbed a finger in Alastor's direction, "I know ya probably don't deal with religious types often, but I ain't an idiot or arsehole. I wouldn't even dream o'preachin' t'people who are alive, much less dead ones in Hell." Couldn't really defend himself about that last part, however. Miles knew he had some biases. That was one of many reasons he had agreed to this little venture. Not to mention, that ever-present smile and cutting eyes did allow for some of his anxiety to creep up. "Look, man, I got a lotta pre-conceived notions but m'gonna try m'best, okay? I want this t'work as much as you do."