#to acquire horns and a tail

[maranull]

I have, once again, used the 60€ picrew and made myself in bg3, but on the more accurate race this time (cause tail, horns and other more personal things)

shame we can't edit the face structure though :/

[tsukii0002]

My demons' periods cycles. By Mc

Note: these are purely my headcanons at the moment, they are based on animal ethology and behaviours that I think would suit each character depending on their personality and Lore. I would love to read your headcanon in case you have them.

Warning: Long text. Possible grammatical errors. It's written as if Mc was writing for themself.

Hey, it me Mc, the best human. Here is a compilation of the behaviours of my demons during their periods, cycles, for practical day to day use. It wasn't easy but I sat them down and got to talk to them, with a little effort I now know what they need. So now I am ready to assist them during these complicated times and be prepared in case I find a dead goat on the porch as a tribute.

Lucifer, Mammon & Levi || Satan, Asmo, & Beel || Belphie, Barbatos & Diavolo || Simeon & Raphael

Satan

Light damages his eyes, and during his period he does not sleep at all.

During his cycle, the plaques that extend from his tail to his entire body become more pronounced and acquire a bioluminescent coating. As do its horns. Beware, they prick.

Some parts of his body grow feathers (I think this is a "side" effect of his birth). He aggressively plucks them out, help him not to hurt himself.

His teeth grow continuously, he has to be sanding them (biting things or his own tail). Other than that he doesn't groom much.

Satan doesn't have a fixed place to spend his heat, and although he likes to "nest" he doesn't know how to do it well, which frustrates him a lot. Help him, you already have experience (I think that's why he has chosen my room as his favourite place)

Depending on the weather he may make something more like a nest or a burrow.

Satan is terribly territorial, even with his siblings. He has had a run in with Cerberus from time to time. Please don't let that happen, the house won't hold.

Satan does not have a pre-heat period as such, but you can tell it is coming because he becomes more taciturn and solitary.

Raw meat is his main food, which is what he goes out to hunt very often because he needs a lot of it, but make sure he doesn't eat more than his capacity or it will make him sick. One way to do this is to feed him yourself (I think he thinks you have hunted for him if you do this).

Satan is the only one who haunts other demons and even souls of the condemned.

It is the only one that has fought other demons. Any living thing within 100 metres of him is encroaching on his territory, which is a problem because he moves so much for hunt.

Satan becomes non-verbal. But he does not use noises to communicate, only physical contact.

Growls and roars are reserved for threats and warnings (in other words, to communicate with everyone but you).

He likes physical contact, but is afraid to get close in case he hurts you (his tags and tail), you won't deny him comfort so be careful and that's it.

Satan produces pheromones, but does not usually mark.

His way of courting is to offer you resources, especially prey (he wants to prove he can feed you), it's not the first time he's brought you a live demon. Once he brought you a Little D, the poor thing kept shaking.

Satan's senses are heightened to the extreme. Many stimuli upset him and he has fits of rage. talk to him, so that he focuses his attention on your voice, that will calm him down. Lucifer's voice calms him down a lot too (but it's a secret)

All these changes (hormonal, behavioural…) are not good for his anger, the poor thing gets very angry without knowing why.

Satan's temperature is a reflection of his activity, when he is on the move it increases and when he stops it decreases.

During periods of low activity he curls up next to you, holding your hand (for fear of hurting you) with his pupils fully dilated, don't be fooled, he is fully alert and ready to attack.

Satan purrs? YES! It's the purr that most resembles a cat (that will make him happy, but don't tell him, the avatar of wrath has his pride).

Mc: *in their bedroom helping Satan* Here is ok?

Satan: *looking at them and nodding*

Mc: Making a nest is complicated… are you sure this is okay?

Satan: *standing next to them and rubbing his cheek with their cheek *

Mc: *smiling* Okay, let's go to the next part.

Satan: *grunting at a demon that's approached the house*

Mc: Satan!!! Satan stop!!!

Demon: *paralyzed with fear*

Mc: *hugging* Satan now, let him go, he's going, he's goi- agh!

Satan: !!!

Mc: *cut themself with his tail* It's okay, it's nothing.

Satan: *guilty look*

Mc: *taking him by the hand* Don't worry, this heals fast.

Satan: *nodding still guilty, squeezing their hand*

Demon: …. I thought I was dying!!!!

Satan: *purring as he presses his chin on Mc*

Mc: *talking to him to calm him down* And remember you don't have to go out every day, there's plenty of food here….

Satan: *purring more loudly*

Mc: But if you see my great uncle's soul, the one from the village, it's all yours.

Satan: *nodding with a smile*

Mc: *laughing* How trustworthy, you're awesome Satan.

Asmo

Although he spends most of his time awake, he needs to sleep.

He can be just as active during the day as he is at night (like arachnids).

For him to sleep, you have to be right next to him or he won't sleep.

Asmo needs to nest completely under cover, underground, but prefers the safety of his home to going outside. So he improvises a burrow in his room.

During his period the scales of his exoskeleton become shiny and velvety coated, as do his wings and horns.

Them take on a more striking fuchsia colour than usual. It will be one of the few times you will be able to see Asmo's tail with its sting.

He preens himself a lot, moistening its wings, polishing its scales... At first he is a little reluctant to be helped, but later he will be constantly asking for your help.

More than territorial, Asmo is possessive. He doesn't want you to leave his side, sometimes with his siblings too. If he smells a scent of someone else in his tribe, good luck to that individual.

Asmo doesn't have pre-heat, you'll just wake up one day with all your clothes gone and you'll know it's started.

Asmo's diet during its cycle is varied, although its consumption increases, ranging from fresh meat, fluids of all kinds, to poisonous substances such as flowers, mushrooms or other live animals. Be sure to allow some time to pass before he kisses or bites you.

If you get him a rare poisonous plant, he will be happy and content.

He can talk normally, but he will also make clicking sounds to indicate his mood.

Lots of pheromones, Asmo produces lots and lots of pheromones during his period, pheromones that he will use to mark his territory. Often his siblings can't be near him. You don't have that problem

Asmo is very needy to contact, hug him, give him kisses, caress his wings, his hair. He will be happy to let you.

And he will return the gesture, he will bite you too (always have your first aid kit handy). He will always try to be on top of you or for you to be on top of him.

Asmo's courtship consists of exsivating while performing a dance (like scorpions), this dance is complex and elaborate, and during it he releases a large amount of pheromones.

He gets very confused when you don't react to it, Asmo I'm sorry but I can't smell your pheromones, sometimes he even gets sad.

His senses are very developed, especially his sense of smell, which is more developed than any of his siblings. Make sure the flowers in his room are enchanted so that they don't emit odour and with perfumes and other fragranced products the same or he can get hurt.

Asmo's temperature will generally drop, but he will go through periods of very high fever (due to his sin) which will leave him tired.

During fever peaks he will become very active, and will devote most of his time to courting. To balance this out you will have to COURT him yourself, you'd better improve that dance.

Because of his temperature, he will spend most of his time hiding in the burrow, demanding your cuddles.

He purrs? , yes, in an adorable and soft way. It is easy to make him purr, with a simple praise.

Asmo: Kiss? *with Mc sitting on his lap*

Mc: Not yet Asmo.

Asmo: *with teary eyes* Don't you love me anymore?

Mc: *sighing* Asmo, my life, my heart, you just ate three nightshade roots.

Asmo: *almost crying* And?

Mc: I love you very much but I also want to live.

Asmo: My nose itches.

Mc: Wait a bit longer, I'm finishing enchanting the flowers.

Asmo: *sad * It would be less trouble to remove them…

Mc: But you like them, don't you?

Asmo: Mc..

Mc: *hugging him* I'm here to help you and to make you comfortable, if you like the flowers, the flowers stay.

Asmo: Love you so much!

Asmo: *dancing with a very high fever*

Mc: Asmo, you are so beautiful… you can rest now.

Asmo: *staring at them non-stop*

Mc: *blushing while standing up * You leave me no choice *starts dancing and grabs Asmo by the waist*

Asmo: ?! Are you courting me?! * excited*

Mc: *Grabbing him in their arms to take him to rest* Yup, it worked?.

Asmo: I'm all yours, Mc, from the beginning…

Beel

Light is not a problem for him, although he prefers darkness.

During his period, the exoskeleton hardens and plates of it appear all over his body, and his horns become iridescent.

In addition, its wings become ribbed in a pattern, which at first glance is very beautiful. The more complex the pattern, the more attractive it is. You always see his wings as beautiful, but you agree with him, Beel deserves it.

He does a lot of grooming, which is lovely to see, because Beel is a bit clumsy and needs constant help, he has been injured a few times and you don't want that to happen again.

There are some flies and other insects that lay their nests underground. In Beel's case he has a small gallery dug in the garden, which he uses for storage too.

Beel at the beginning of the cycle may be in the house, but as he progresses he will be in his gallery.

More than territorial, he becomes protective of you and his siblings (he once kidnapped Luke), so when he is in his gallery he feels bad, because his desire to protect them is crushed by his need to be hidden.

Beel has a very marked pre-heat, in which he accumulates large quantities of food in his small cave and his appetite doubles. All the inhabitants of the house join in at this time to cook.

In contrast, during his period of heat his activity is reduced and his appetite decreases, this does not mean that he does not eat, he eats more often but in much smaller quantities and from storage (food that does not spoil).

He will insist on feeding you constantly, prepare indigestion medicine, you will need it.

Beel becomes totally non-verbal, be prepared to become an interpreter, he communicates with grunts, clicks and buzzes his wings.

Lots of buzzing, it's not the first time you've been hit by his wings, with the different buzzes he makes all sorts of claims and they have a high communicative range, you'll just need some time to figure it out.

His pheromones are strong, and he will mark, although he does it unconsciously.

As I said, he likes to have his family around him, but when he can't, anxiety takes over, vibration and physical contact calms him down. The easiest thing to do is to lay him on your chest and talk to him while stroking his hair or wings.

Beel's courtship is complex, first he feels the need to prove he can be a good provider, so he will constantly enlarge and improve his gallery.

And then there is the display of his wings, patterning and rhythmic, synchronised movements and buzzes to impress you.

He sleeps more than usual, will want you to sleep in his arms, and usually does so perched on one of his walls, hopefully you won't develop vertigo….

His senses are not as sharp as those of his siblings, but he becomes much more agile and has much better reflexes.

Beel's temperature increases, due to the continuous movement of his wings (insects produce a lot of heat when flying), but when he is at rest he tends to cool down.

Beel's purr is a mixture of a buzz and a vibration, he will purr when he is calm and content.

Beel was a little worried about how you might react because many humans detest insects. Be sure to praise his wings and other attributes, because this demon is adorable.

Mc: So this is your lair?

Beel: Yes… I decided to keep it from period to period to not destroy the garden…

Mc: I think it's very practical!!! It must be very cool in summer.

Beel: Do you really think so?

Mc: Yes, and cosy too, you're an artist Beel.

Beel: *smiling as he blushes*

Beel: *grunts*

Mc: Beel I can't take anymore…

Beel: *holding out a piece of fruit to them* *buzz*

Mc: Really Beel, I'm going to explode…

Beel: !! *hugging them*

Mc: It's a figure of speech… but can you eat my share… please.

Mc: *sleeping hugging Beel in one of the corners of his gallery*

Beel: *caressing them with his cheek*

Mc: It's all right Beel?

Beel: *crackling with worry*

Mc: Don't worry... Lucifer is with them… and the others will take care of Lucifer for you.

Beel: …*cradling them adoringly*

Mc: And I'll take care of you, so rest…

.

.

.

If you have made it this far thanks you 🩷

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

It's DNA

I was watching Smough's video, and he featured this sacred seal from the Erdtree peoples who were inspired by the Hornsent peoples.

The Land of the Tower (Hornsent) considered helixes as some kind of divine geometry/symbol. The double helix is notably calls to mind either the Caduceus symbol of medicine (twin snakes in a double helix - wink nudge nudge) OR...

It looks like a strand of DNA.

The Crucible wasnt just the primordial form of the Erd Tree. It was the primordial form of Everything - all living beings. To be Crucible blessed like the Hornsent is to acquire a mixture of active genes that would be have been recessive otherwise- thats why you get wings, horns, tails. (We share 90% or so of our DNA with like flies or bananas!)

Everyone is technically born from the Crucible and (as Marika proves by birthing OMEN sons) the Hornsent/Shaman are the same species!! Again recessive genes that get activated maybe?

And guess what? Splicing, grafting - that could be done to trees... or DNA... Godrick's prized practice is essentially a revised version of what the Crucible does naturally to living creatures.

The Crucible = The Gene Pool

[acti-veg]

You have all just got to come to terms with how laughably simplistic it is to dismiss legitimate critiques about modern wool production with catchphrases like ‘Its just a haircut, it doesn’t hurt them!’

Wool is ‘just a haircut’ in the same way that cocoa is ‘just a plant.’ Yes, you can acquire chocolate without harming anyone, but is anyone dismissing the obvious ethical issues with modern chocolate production by pointing out that cocoa doesn’t require us to hurt anyone to acquire? Of course not, because we all recognise that because of modern production practices and exploitation it is far more complicated than that. Why can’t we do the same for animal products?

Shearing a sheep does not have to harm sheep by itself, though fast processing speeds demanded by commercial producers means that shearing injuries are very common. That isn’t the issue with wool. The issue is that wool production by itself is not very profitable, profits are subsidised by taking lambs from their mothers every lambing season, then slaughtering them for meat. The issue is that sheep will almost always be slaughtered once their profitability declines., Most farmers cannot afford to house and feed unprofitable animals.

Tail docking is an issue, de-horning is an issue, castration is an issue. The live transport of sheep for hours in all weather extremes without food and water is an issue. Breeding sentient beings into bodies that over-produce wool, eggs, or milk to the point where they require human intervention just to be comfortable is an issue. Exploiting the bodies of animals for profit is, in and of itself, an ethical issue.

The massive environmental harm caused by grazing sheep, who have converted vast swathes of formerly forested land into ecologically dead wastelands, is difficult to overstate. Grazing animals are widely acknowledged as one of the most significant barriers to forest restoration and re-wilding. George Monbiot calls them ‘the white plague’ for good reason. Just take a look at what has happened to most of England and Wales. That isn’t even factoring in the methane emissions of the sheep themselves, their resource requirements, or the fact that farmers routinely kill predators to protect their herds.

All you do when you dismiss these real concerns by pointing out that ‘wool doesn’t hurt sheep duhhh’ is show us how little thought you are willing to put into what is a far more complex issue than any of you are willing to admit. That these cringe ‘shave your sheep’ posts still get tens of thousands of shares is evidence of nothing so much as widespread ignorance and confirmation bias when it comes to discussing animal agriculture.

Honestly, so many of you have been so brainwashed by this cottagecore pastoral fantasy that you’re no longer able to apply any real nuance or analysis to animal issues. I’m not expecting you to immediately agree with us and throw out all your fleeces, but at least recognise that it’s not as simple as saying ‘shearing doesn’t harm sheep you morons.’

At the very least, you should all be able to recognise that vegans aren’t just stupid for not immediately agreeing that an environmentally destructive, ecologically disastrous industry that is breeding and exploiting sentient beings for profit is just uncomplicatedly fine actually.

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

i just love the idea of becoming less human as a result of sexual contact with monsters. like gaining reptilian eyes after mating with a dragon, or growing little horns and a spaded tail after swallowing enough of a demon’s cum, or slowly acquiring the curse of lycanthropy by being a werewolf’s mate for long enough. it just 🔥hits🔥 on all accounts from the sense of intimacy to the thematic connotations of being changed by who/what you love (and also im just big into monster transformations 🥰)

also i just. want to become a demon/succubus/imp so badly. and i want to get dicked down by demons almost as badly. and i can save time by fantasising about both at once 😎

.

[bigassmoth]

Some karlach thirst- or karlach being thirsty. This too is yuri

"You may touch whomever you please-"

Before Karlach can voice her joy, your arms are around her neck and your lips on her cheek. She stumbles only slightly before steadying herself. Her hands find themselves on your ass, holding you up as your legs wrap around her torso.

Karlachs laughter and your squeal of joy are contagious, drawing smiles and giggles from friends and strangers alike who witness the scene. You pepper continuous kisses to her face, it tickles and she cant control her expression from skrunching up at the sensation.

The wholesome happiness turned abruptly into carnal desire. Your chest was so soft as it pressed against her neck and clavicle. Your lips were heavenly against her skin, she felt the tease of your wet mouth just under each delicate kiss. Your ass in her hands, she felt the springiness of your cheeks when she flexed her fingers. It felt right for your hips to be against hers, even more tantalizing your crotch rested against her hip bone.

Karlach wanted to hold you to her thigh and make you grind against her until her skin was soaked. She wanted your hands to curl around her horns. She wanted to explore your mouth, so wet and small. She was happy for her ruby complexion for the first time since acquiring it because it hid her blush. It didnt hide the lust in her eyes. Thankfully your affections had moved from her face to the hair at the top of her head so there was no chance of you seeing the desire in her expression.

The others did, however. Karlach was in the middle of biting her lip when she caught the bemused expressions of her companions. While she normally may have been ashamed or shy, the happy feet kicks you did made Karlach press you tighter against her body. With one arm supporting your ass, the other snaked around your waist and angled your torso so that your chest pressed into her face. You happily hugged her head, giving her a faceful of boob. Karlachs tongue darted out and lapped at the sweat between your breasts, giving you a full grin when you jolt and look down in confusion.

"Oh gods its just been soooo long since I have been able to touch someone else. You feel absolutely wonderful."

Her voice is excited and sacrine- also entirely sincere. She really did miss being able to touch and be touched.

She hadnt realized how much she kissed other things. The taste of your sweat was addictive, Karlach wanted to taste it again. She wanted to lick up your neck and busy herself between your legs. She wanted you to desperately grind yourself against her. She wanted you to bounce on her fingers and whine out her name. She wanted you begging on her bedroll, she wanted you squirming under her.

"Gods I missed touch so much, I dont want to let you go." She purrs out and twitches her tail when their journeying companions giggle and scoff.

"Hey! No being mean to Karlach. Shes needed this for a long time." You scold the others, your statement correct in more ways than one. Your defense, naive but earnest, cannot be parried by anyone else. The party returns to camp, Karlach carrying you all the way.

She hopes tonight she can use your weakness for puppydog eyes to talk her way between your thighs. To roll your clit with her tongue and coax your orgasm with the rough and warm pads of her fingers. She can think of no greater pleasure than a night of forcing you to cum on her tongue.

[brokenpieces-72]

Older arctic fox reader, a good friend of Nikolai's, helps the 141 with a mission in Russian territory, and meeting our little wendigo as well.

Do what you want with this.

The reader is male, since I don’t usually do male readers. I’m definitely not imagining this guy looking like the anime KFC guy with fox ears and a bomber jacket…definitely not. Also lets access a different branch of the military with Special Investigations unit.

Fäks

You and Nik go back, and pretty far back. You served together in Russia and when he started working more “freelance” you got him whatever he needed to get whatever he needed. How did you two meet well funny story…he flirted with you. In his defence this was some time ago. Nik wasn't exactly sober either. Your hair was longer then and your body shape was slimmer than most. You’d been called beautiful by more than a few men before they noticed you were male. You started hitting on him back to see if he would pick up on your masculinity, before just asking Nik if he had figured it out yet. Nikolai saying you were very foxy for man is what cemented your relationship.

Nik didn’t tell you everything, but he kept in touch even after you parted ways. When a mission came up, and your commanding officer told you to stand down or to let it go, you reached out to Nik. Off the record wasn't uncommon for you, to the point you'd acquired a few safehouses for your own safety. You contacted Nik to see if you could get some help with your business trip, and he could deliver. When he told you the hybrids he could invite to your vacation home, your tail flicked. A wendigo, a dragon, a werewolf. You had to keep the list a little short but Nik wasn't about to just chauffer.

You stood outside the small base as the chopper landed, a smile on your face, under your scarf. Ice flecks whipped up around you, forcing you to raise your arm to protect your eyes. You didn’t approach until the rotors stopped. The rest shuffled out while Nik wasted no time coming to greet you.

“My brother.” Nik said, clasping your hand and providing a bear hug, which you return with a grin.

“Good to see you again comrade. This must be your friends.” You said, turning your attention to the newcomers.

“Captain.” Nikolai said, inviting Price over. “Meet Fäks. A good friend of mine.”

The dragon hybrid came over and shook your hand. He was bloody big, his horns making it difficult to keep a beanie on his head. You smiled, regardless of being a little intimidated.

“Welcome to Russia captain. It’s a pleasure.” You says.

“Pleasure is mine, Private Fäks.” Price said, nodding. All business this one. You were introduced to each one as friends. If there was a human who could bring hybrids together, it was Nik. Sure any human could arrange a meeting but Nik was special, looking past the hybrid while showing respect to it as well. As the soldiers filed out you noted each one. Gaz came up behind Price, shaking your hand in respect. Another human, Rudy greeted you next before going with Gaz towards the safe house. The final two exited the helicopter. A werewolf with his tail sticking out, saying to call him Soap. Behind him was a smaller soldier, with antlers and rabbit ears, calling herself Spirit. As the wolf and jackelope hurried inside, you took note of how Spirit was tagging along after Soap.

“Recruiting rather young.” You commented. Price nodded, his expression tells you it wasn't exactly his idea.

"Those two are a vision in the field." Price assured you. You looked forward to it.

Once inside and rooms sorted you wandered about, being as good of a host as you could. Nik would be sticking around to assist with extraction for this mission. You hadn’t gotten a chance to see the men with their jackets, scarves and toques off. The next day would be plenty of planning and decision making, figuring out how to break into a facility that was extracting various illegal materials and bi products from hybrids. This was a little personal for you, as you’d nearly had your own tail cut off or someone shave it for some sick mink.

There is a small lounge that could pass as a living room and you see the men have made themselves at home. You smiled reclining in a seat and immediately being asked by the harpy, about how you and Nik met. Nik loudly groaned, and buried his face in his hands, as you leaned forward ready to embarrass the shit out of him. Kyle already had a grin on his face.

“I was minding my own business whe-how old are you?” You said, interrupting yourself when Spirit walked in. She had a book in her hands, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“Uh…haven’t looked.” Spirit said. You looked at Nik.

“Not my idea.” Nik said shrugging.

“Apologies malen'kiy. Not used to such a young soldier.” You said. Didn’t mean to startle her.

“Come in Spirit, you’ll want to hear this story.” Gaz called to her. Spirit’s eyes went from wide to bright as she hurried to sit with Kyle. It’s cute how cozy she looked, with Gaz letting her snuggle up. Reminded you of someone else. You needed to focus on what was before you. Mission first, personal stuff later.

“Where was I…right I had a drink. Was enjoying some water, when Nik comes up and sits down like any old stranger.” You continued.

Originally Nik sent you a few files for the mission, since you would be leading it. Turns out he neglected to tell you what the wendigo was supposed to be. You were expecting a lanky humanoid, and when you were planning the mission that image remained.

“Wall here is pretty weak. I can find a hole nearby I’m sure.” You suggested when going over the plans. You looked up at Soap. “Unless a werewolf can?”

“I could do it.” Spirit suggested. “Wait, how much do I need to break it?”

You stood there for a moment, and looked up at the team. None of them said anything. The little jackalope just gave an expectant look. Were you missing something? You decided to take her at her word, but breaking the wall wasn't exactly what you were going for.

“On the other side is a lab. Not sure what’s in it but based on some of the cargo and shipments I’ve seen going in and out there’s a chance of explosives.” You continued.

“Door access might be easier.” Price suggested. Spirit looked a little disappointed.

“My thoughts as well.” You said.

“So breaking in from the outside is a no go?” Kyle asked. Certainly seemed more risky. So far breaking in with what access points you could reach would be more complicated with others but you couldn’t do this mission alone.

“I hate to suggest it, but could we slip in undetected?” Price asked. You considered that but didn’t like the idea.

“It would involve cages, some good acting, and a prayer.” You said. “Nik could drive a vehicle in with us in the back as cargo but the downside is we would need to either be drugged or knocked out. They won’t take “subjects” that are too active, and don’t want anyone knowing their way around in or out of the facility. Every stake out, all I could hear was breathing, no calls or cries. Overheard some drivers talkings about it with the guards.”

“Can we play dead?” Spirit suggested before looking at Soap. “No offence.”

Kyle snickered at Soap’s rolling eyes. You continued, “No, they test to ensure the hybrids are drugged. Guards will enter the truck for inspection before any of them go through.”

The young soldier seemed to shift from foot to foot. You could hear her heart picking up. When Soap put an arm over her shoulders she seemed to relax. The thought of cages made you a little uneasy as well, but it was easiest way.

“I don’t mean to devalue anyone, I have great respect for your work truly, but is bringing someone so young along a good idea?” You asked aloud.

“I’ll be fine.” Spirit said. You could hear her let out a huff, eyes firmly on the map. A strong malen’kiy.

Day before the mission you found yourself in the living space again, with Spirit sitting and drawing in her sketchbook. You had brought a sort of peace offering in the form of a muffin. She accepted it politely.

“Apologies for any offence I may have given you. It was not my intention.” You said. Spirit looked up a friendly expression on her face.

“I wasn’t offended.” Spirit said. You nodded and sat down, eyeing what she was working on. An arctic fox.

“Nik tells me you are a part of a program?” You asked. She nodded but fidgeted a bit. “Bad memories?”

“A bit.” She said, more focused on the sketch. You smiled.

“Do you need me to pose?” You teased. She looked at you smiling and shaking her head.

“I noticed you looking uneasy. While we were briefing.” You asked. When cages were brought up Spirit seemed to shift from foot to foot. Rudy would be a driver, along with Nikolai. You, Spirit, Price and Soap would be in cages and drugged. Gaz would provide overwatch. “If you don’t feel comfortable, you could always go in a cage with someone else, if it makes you feel safe.”

“You’re sure the drugs will be a lower dose?” She asked. You checked and double checked almost every hour, the doses were specific and precise, so they’d wake when they needed to, and wouldn’t be out any longer. You put a hand over your heart looking the young hybrid in the eyes.

“On my honour."

The truck is chilly but cold doesn’t bother you, nor does it bother Soap. Spirit had opted for staying in the same cage as Price who seemed a little chilly. Before the doses were administered, she curled up closer. Spirit also insisted on having her poncho. Soap was also adamant on this.

“You have a little comrade captain.” You commented. Price nodded while Spirit gave a proud and smug look.

“Always.” Price said, his wing covering Spirit. You hear a small laugh, and quiet words from Price. Gaz went to each of you, injecting the dose. It would put you all to sleep. When you woke it was go time. You and Soap would be in one part of the lab, while Spirit and Price would be in another. Horns and antlers were valuable, as were scales. Furs had value but only so much. You notice Spirit getting nervous, can hear her breathing becoming unsteady. Price was there to keep her calm.

“You got this milan’kiy.” You told her. The needle goes in, she winced and then leaned back against Price. Price adjusted her to keep her from falling before Nik injected him. Soap was fidgeting in his own box as Rudy put the needle in him next.

Then it was your turn…and you…fall……asleep.

When you awoke you were close by to Soap who was already assessing the cage. He was focused, and ready. There was an extraction team on the way, but getting the other hybrids to safety was top priority. You started to pick the lock when you heard the horrible screech of bending metal. Soap was half shifted.

“That works.” You said and hurried out leading him to some more cages to assess the situation and get some files. Import records, profiles, transactions, whatever you could do to get to the root. You lift blankets on cages to check and see plenty of younger hybrids. The program was about to have a long week. Soap was getting the security system turned off. You were a “late shipment” which meant you had some time. No one would come to assess you for testing or anything like that which made for a perfect opportunity to get as many out as you could.

“How are those cameras?” You asked.

“What cameras?” Soap responded. You gave him a chuckle as he joined you, peeking under a blanket. Another fox hybrid, shivering, and looking newly shaved. Seeing soap, fhe fox cowered. Soap backed off, as you hushed the young kid.

“Не волнуйся. Мы здесь, чтобы помочь вам. Просто держись крепче.” You said. The kid nodded, eyes a little brighter. The blanket goes back down, and you stand up.

“Aye, Fäks. Found some shipments.” Soap called over. You came up to him, seeing the crates with smaller containers. The labels were going to a few high end companies. Disgusting, all of it. There was a barking sound. The two of them turned and saw the white Cadejo. Rudy had returned, which meant the guards wouldn’t be an issue. Soap got to the door and knocked, getting a response from Rudy immediately and letting him in.

"Find everything?" He asked.

"Downloading now." You informed him seeing the loading bar come up. Of course their tech was old and slow.

"Nikolai is on the other end." Rudy mentioned standing next to you, to see the progress himself.

"How is fairing?" You asked. There was a loud bang which told you something wasn't going right.

"Soap, Rudy, stay here." You instructed immediately. If there was one thing you didn't like it was sitting and waiting, and right now there was a chance a good friend of yours was in danger. You don't wait for their response as you leave the room and see a couple guys in lab coats rushing out. You drew a knife from your boot, shanking them both with quick and simple agility. You can hear odd noises and when you get the chance to look inside, you see Spirit's wendigo form, roaring and growling at whatever guards decided to poke her with a stick. Or cattle prod. Clearly they'd taken her out of the cage, intending to do some last minute assessment or maybe to get her antlers off. Price was taking out any guards that tried to go for him while Spirit tried clawing at them. Nik still had a weapon from his disguise, firing from whatever cover he could find from the tables and empty cages.

You don't hesitate to get more primtive, your blade doing only so much when it comes to armoured gear. You claw and bite, yes you have teeth, and you aren't afraid to dive into smaller space to remove anyone wanting to use the element of surprise. Thankfully, the fighting doesn't last long and you don't have too much blood in your mouth.

"Anyone broken?" Price called, taking a moment to catch his breath.

"Good here." You said.

"Fine here captain." Nik called, as you gave him a hand up.

Spirit made a cooing sound, shuffling from foot to foot. You approached her and she looked down at you tilting her head. A jackelope wendigo hybrid. Certainly a new one. Seeing the scraps of her clothes, you understand why she wore the poncho. Spirit shifted back to her more human state, retrieving a weapon from one of the guards. Still seemed a little shaken, but ready and at attention.

"Files should be finishing up. We have plenty of hybrids to extract." You said.

"Let get to it." Price said.

Plenty of reports and paperwork to write and sign for this side mission. The hybrids were either put into a program like Spirit's or were waiting for their family to retrieve them. You checked up on Nikolai, and as always he was still holding strong. After completing your last signature for the day, you got up to go find him. Knowing him, he'd likely have a drink, and you could use one.

"Figured you'd need one." Nik said, offering you a poured glass. As always, he'd thought of everything. You took off your jacket, letting it rest on your shoulders as you sat with him at the table. "Long day."

"Indeed." You said taking a long sip. The two of you nursed your glasses.

"How are you?" Nik asked you.

"That's your best pick-up line?" You asked, recalling the night you two had met. Nik laughed. "I'll be fine."

"You see your little one at all these days?" He asked.

"I avoid it." You admitted. Nik shook his head, pouring you another.

"You should see them. Wait a little, but go see them." Nik said. You could never turn him down. Even when you two first met. He was right though. You should go see your little one. Spirit had reminded you of them, and they deserved to have you around even if you didn't think so.

"I will. They're still reading, and I've started doing it too. Plenty to talk about I'm sure." You said. Nik nodded, and you spent the rest of the evening, catching up, inviting the others to join, and remembering the good times.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving

[tribbetherium]

"What them them flyer-beasts?" asked Brightbrow, roughly and hesitantly, in the tongue of the red-people, stalling and stuttering in the still-unfamiliar language.

"Dawn-coming-flyers," answered her companion.

For some time had the refugee highbrows lived by their side, and as the days passed more words which they heard slowly filled their repertoire. The red-people saw their attempts to speak as honest and true, and taught them, with the patience of a mother to pup.

"Dawn-coming-flyers," repeated Brightbrow, now feeling less alone in her exile from her pack. Now down to but three, as far as she knew.

She was different, yet their words made her feel like she belonged.

"Dawn. Come. Fly," repeated her companion in the red-people dialect, enunciating each root word, that formed the name of the creatures. "Dawn-coming-flyers."

"Food leaders," he said to her. "Come."

The dawn-coming-flyers were not but any flyer-beast, but ones the red-people admired. They perched upon places with food they could not reach and called out for assistance to what could easily have been a predator had it so desired: yet one that meant them no harm. Indeed, to harm them was a taboo to the red-ones.

Though the strange grey one was different, and the flyers were wary.

Brightbrow gave an experimental pounce, only to be rebuked by her companion with a firm but gentle tug on her tail.

"No," he said patiently, gesturing his snout slowly to the winged creatures. "Friends."

"Dawn-coming-flyers...friends."

He was a patient teacher to what to him seemed much like a very large pup. Inexperienced and naive to the ways of their world, in need to be guided, taught. Innocent and unknowing, he thought.

Yet the painful scars of the past she bore told him a different story.

"Dawn-coming-flyers find food. Dawn-coming-flyers not food."

"Find find food. Not food."

The dawn-coming flyers alighted near an old log some distance away, and began to call out in chittering squeals, and the red-one was quick to take up their lead and begin gnawing at the bark.

To her, his thin body and slender jaws seemed ill-fitted for such a task.

"Help," insisted Brightbrow, and the red-one was willing to oblige.

Her poweful jaws, built for tearing hide and cracking bones, made quick work of the wooden surface, and soon its pale, rotted interior was laid bare, among which were scores of swarming, pale insects, alarmed by their intrusion into their stronghold.

Brightbrow was a great help in many ways to the red-people.

"Come food," said the red-one, eagerly tucking in into the exposed swarm, while the dawn-coming-flyers gathered around, feasting eagerly on the escaping insects with reckless abandon, confident in the safety granted by their alliance.

Brightbrow was less excited about the meager offering, accustomed to the abundant meals their horn-herders once yielded. Yet, in a show of gratitude, she too took a tentative lick at the white wood-bugs to share with the red-one.

She gagged and pawed at her snout. They were certainly an acquired taste.

The red-one trilled in amusement, rushing to her side and licking off some wood-bugs clinging to her snout.

"First time wood bugs?" he asked.

"Last time last," she grunted in response.

The red-people were a very strange folk. Thinner, weaker they were, yet more creative. They fed on many kinds of food whatever the land offered, and some even grew their own. They told many stories of many forms and intentions and had many spoken tongues among themselves, and they all looked different, yet were one kin.

Suddenly her old, distant life felt dull, monotonous, in comparison, to the new world opened to her by the red-one. Her constant companion for the past few seasons.

She'd grown fond of this one, distinct from the rest by the third pale spot that adorned his face, among those who welcomed her and her brothers. At a time when she had endured the most horrific savagery from her own kind, here was kindness, in the most unexpected of places, that made her feel less alone in her solitude.

He had been valuable to her in the direst of seasons. A teacher to a strange people. A mentor to a new and unfamiliar world. And a warm, comforting body to rest against when her slumber in the night was disrupted by terrible visions and sounds of the past.

His true name was but unpronounceable to the highbrow tongue, and such she had dubbed him, in affection, Smallsun. For the small yellow mark that told him apart from the rest of the red-ones.

For the small yellow mark that marked him as her red-one.

"Not like unlike wood-bugs," Brightbrow complained. "Grey-ones bigger food."

"Not eat dawn-coming-flyers." Smallsun scolded again, but this time as a more light-hearted jab. "Friends. Not food."

"Yes, yes," Brightbrow gave a bemused whine. "Us find other else else."

---------

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Love language: acts of service

Solomon is unusually eager to help you care for your newly acquired demonic features, even if you are unsure about it you accept his help

Wc: 800

"Are you sure this is necessary?" You wonder, but it doesn't seem to truly bother you Solomon could assure by how comfortable you were against lap

"Well" he takes a small brush from the care bag he managed to buy last second "unless you want to avoid windows and going out of the house until I set the spell up again this seems the most efficient"

He slowly brushes your new horns, taking care of the creases to take off the dust

" Plus, i have heard Asmodeus talk about his care routine for a good hundred years so you can rest assured that you are in good hands" it's a strange occurrence that for once Solomon's smile reached his eyes, truly enjoying this

"Couldn't you have given me simpler horns? If I didn't know best I would say you enjoy taking care of-" his nimble fingers rub just where your horns connect making a pleasurable shiver down your back relaxing your muscles and making your new wings lie flat against your back "mhm, riight there"

" Just as an overgrown cat" he stops scratching your head to try and reach a different angle of your horns, too engrossed in brushing off dust to care about your whines

" Remember you also gave this cat claws" the new long black manicured fingers guide his hand from your horns to your scalp

" Such a cuddly kitty, I'm happy Satan isn't here to steal my cat away" he kissed in between your horns " so, would you prefer devildom belladonna wax or bloody sap wax?"

" wax?" You toy with the small containers pushing it back and forth

" To protect your horns from heat, acid, chipping, snapping in half-"

" They can snap in half!? What if mines break? I have been bumping intro walls and door a lot lately"

" I wouldn't really worry, at worst it would look silly but it seems that horns don't have a lot of nerves." His words calm you down, and you pick one of the waxes to give him

He grabs a white and blue rag and pours a bit of the wax "well, It won't hurt unless you…" the rag falls around one of your horns and Solomon pulls on it somewhat roughly "pull the whole horn out from the base!"

"HICK!" As you turn around to face Solomon his hand slips away leaving your horn shiny with wax

" Jajaja. Did I scare you?" His mischievous smile and evil laugh are truly inseparable from him, huh? " Now, down again, I have to truly wax your horns"

" As if!" You grasp your horns and lift your foot again his chest pushing him away

" There, there" he pats your head like a child lightly pushing you towards his lap "this time's for real"

Scrolling through your DDD you don't mind how tenderly he seems to be, slowly rubbing the wax on the other "I wonder how the brothers would react to this" he giggles like a teenager girl with her crush

" Oh? Why so?" He keeps rubbing over the same spot over and over, you are sure they are properly protected already but you would never deny little signs of affection from him

He sighs a little, his hands now spreading your wings, checking the membrane and the bones " well, usually grooming is such a private affair that even between couples they rarely do it together. Well unless…"

" Unless?"

" Unless they pretend to mate for life" he leaves your wings alone for a little while

"Oh? But didn't you help Asmodeus with grooming before?"

" not quite~" he slowly rubs the membrane connecting the different bones in your wings "I only helped with skincare in his human form or choosing nail art. Once I tried to touch his wings in demon form and he sent me flying against the wall from the hit his wings gave me!"

You laugh lightly looking up to him through your eyelashes teasing him slightly" Well, you don't have wings or tail… Can I wash your hair or cut your nails?"

His hands slap against his cheek with a soft smack as he looks to the side, over exaggerating his voice " Oh my~ who would have told me you were such a smooth talker" looking up to him you see the slightest blush on his face but before you are able to comment on it he pushes you off and walks out of the door " I forgot the big soft bristles brush. I will go buy one"

Looking toward the fabric bag he brought from the shop you find a big headed brush similar to a newborn brush. Running your fingers through the soft strands a warm feeling creeps up your chest

Such a silly sorcerer, he teases you freely but gets so bashful when you flirt back

[corbyns-stuff]

theoretically

if one was planning a Taylor Halloween costume

what would one need to acquire apart from the hat

(you know exactly which Taylor I’m taking about)

Theoretically, one would probably need to acquire horns, a tail, and makeup capable of faking scars for physical resemblance

One would also need to acquire some sort of bomber jacket with anime pins and such, and a backpack to match.

The last thing someone would theoretically need to acquire would be a cane or a sword cane

Theoretically

[bluerose5]

A Source of Comfort

Astarion/Wyll

Word Count: 2,348

Summary: Wyll struggles with all of the new physical changes forced upon him.

Astarion tries his best to reassure him.

ao3 link

...

One thing that Astarion never expected himself to be was a source of comfort.

Even in his mortal life, he was apparently a point of strife, rather than a uniting force that brought people together. Not exactly a being that filled his days with fairytales, rainbows, and unicorns.

Comforting another in their time of need was a foreign notion, one that he was unfamiliar with. Apparently, spending years —centuries even— under his master's thumb wiped that particular slate clean of all knowledge.

Without much direction otherwise, Astarion sauntered up behind Wyll, releasing a pointed cough. 

The latter tensed at the sound of his approach, his stare fixated on the dark, glittering waters stretched out before them. The moon shone upon the river's surface, a silver beacon in the dead of night.

Yet it didn't hold a candle to the beauty that was Wyll Ravengard.

He glanced up at Astarion as he took a seat on the ground beside him, but Wyll was quick to set his eye on the scenery before him, careful not to meet Astarion's gaze.

Astarion, however, wasn't the slightest bit deterred.

Even as uncertainty festered inside him, he forced himself to don a cheerful grin.

“There you are,” he purred, his lower lip poked out into a pout. “We missed you at dinner, you know.”

“I wasn't hungry,” Wyll bit out, hugging his legs to his chest.

His tail curled around himself, but Wyll only spared it a scathing look.

“What?” Astarion asked, his brow raised at their resident hero. “Something wrong with your tail?”

“What isn't wrong with it?” Wyll countered, frustrated. “The tail, the ridges, the fangs, the horns. It's just, ugh—” His voice lowered into a snarl. “Everything.”

Foot, meet mouth.

“Darling, you do realize that all of those charming features you've listed off are simply ones that I live with on a daily basis, correct?” Astarion asked, curious.

Wyll grimaced.

“I, uh, right. Apologies. I meant no offense! Truly, you are a sight to behold.” 

“Well, keep talking like that, and there won't be anything to forgive,” Astarion interrupted in a giggle. “Plus, I think that this new look suits you. You have quite a fetching pair of horns, you know.”

Wyll gaped, blinking slowly at him until he quickly turned his head away.

He picked at bits of dirt nearby.

“I don't know whether you're trying to kick me while I'm down, or if you're being…” He trailed off in his uncertainty.

Instinctively, Wyll sank his teeth into his bottom lip, only to wince when his newly-acquired fangs pierced through the skin with ease.

Astarion watched blood bead to the surface. His mouth watered as the scent of Wyll's blood tinged the air around them. Tantalizingly sweet, yet laced with that signature metallic tang common to most creatures.

Astarion hummed at the thought of kissing him, of tasting him.

“If I'm being… what?” he asked. Leaning in close, he smirked at him. “Can't fathom the idea that I'm being genuine for once?”

Yeah, let's go with that, he thought.

Wyll chuckled nervously.

His tail unraveled, swaying from side to side along the ground.

Astarion could tell what he was trying to do long before he felt that first stroke of Wyll's tail slide against his own.

Before he could even make the conscious effort, his tail was already nudging back against Wyll's in return.

Wyll ducked his head, smiling to himself.

“Perhaps I could, under the right circumstances.”

Now, this was more like what Astarion was accustomed to.

Comfort wasn't really his forte, but flattery?

He could handle flattery.

Astarion tangled his tail with Wyll's, easing closer to his side.

He looked up at him from underneath his eyelashes. Red eyes, framed by black sclera, glowed like the embers of a flickering fire.

“Then, would now be an appropriate time to mention how devilishly handsome you are?”

“Heh.” Wyll snorted, but he straightened out his legs before him, leaning his weight back onto his hands. His tail constricted around Astarion's, his grip tight. “Now I know that you're messing with me.”

“Mmm…” Astarion hummed as he looked Wyll up and down. Bumping his shoulder against his, Astarion marveled at the heat radiating off of Wyll's body. “How could I resist?”

While Astarion cozied up to him, Wyll was drawn in like a moth to a flame.

He found himself stealing a glimpse of Astarion's lips, but Astarion only encouraged the attention, wetting them in anticipation.

Both of them leaned in until they could feel each other's breaths.

Their lips barely brushed when Wyll seemed to regain his senses.

He squinted at him, suddenly suspicious.

“You know, you're being rather nice tonight.”

“What can I say?” Astarion asked. He placed a hand on Wyll's chest, his heartbeat strong beneath his palm. “Other than you bring out the best in me.”

A little bit of the truth, a little bit of the lie, all sprinkled in.

“Is that so?”

Wyll tried to pull away, only enough to get some space to clear his head, but that plan went sideways the second he felt his horns encounter resistance.

Astarion's head jerked forward in response, and they both stared at each other with growing horror.

Their horns were tangled together.

“Don't…” Astarion warned, but the very sound of his voice caused Wyll to jolt, wrenching his head along even further. “Okay, ow! Can you sit still for one minute, please?! For both of our sakes.”

“Sorry!” Wyll yelped. “Sorry. Gods above, this is—”

“Uncomfortable?” Astarion deadpanned.

“Embarrassing.”

“For you, most certainly,” Astarion said. “Now, hold still.”

It took some maneuvering; however, with Astarion's guidance, they were eventually able to free themselves with a final yank.

A yank that sent them sprawled out onto the ground.

Wyll was quick to catch himself before he could land completely on top of Astarion, hovering over him with a sheepish grin.

His heart sang at a faster pace, as alluring as a harpy's song.

And Astarion was all too willing to answer its call.

“Well, well,” he crooned, “look what we have h—”

“Are you okay?” Wyll asked, his brow furrowed in concern. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

Astarion opened his mouth to answer, only to snap it shut, wide-eyed when he felt fingers press along the base of his horns in search of damage.

A warm, tingling feeling ran from his head to his toes.

Slitted pupils dilated until crimson irises were all but consumed in a sea of black.

He stared at Wyll's lips again, filled with an aching hunger.

“I was so careless,” Wyll muttered to himself, all while Astarion watched him like a hawk. Wyll shook his head with a scowl, switching his scrutiny from one horn to the other. “I can't believe I did that.”

“Hey.” Astarion reached up to stop his hand in its tracks. “I'm okay, you sweet, delectable man, you. Although, keep touching me like that, and we might have another problem on our hands.”

To get his point across, Astarion reached up and skimmed his fingers along the sensitive area where Wyll's horns met his skin. The nerve endings there lit up like a spread of fireworks, causing Wyll to tense at the new sensation. Just as quickly, he relaxed into Astarion's touch, pressed into it even.

His mouth dropped open into a small “oh” of understanding.

Astarion snickered, but that was nothing in his book.

He openly admired Wyll from his spot on the ground. Wandering hands trailed down the expanse of Wyll's chest, marveling at how the muscles bunched beneath them.

Gods, this man.

It was almost ironic, in a way.

Astarion didn't need to breathe, but Wyll most certainly took his breath away.

“You are exquisite,” Astarion praised. “I would say divine, but the gods only wish that they looked as good as you.”

“Astarion!” Wyll snorted.

“What?” he asked, a smirk set in place. “I'm simply speaking my mind.”

It wasn't like they ever listened to him before. Why start now?

“And what an intriguing mind it is,” Wyll acknowledged.

He rested his forehead against Astarion's, and suddenly Astarion realized how close they were in that moment, not just physically, but emotionally as well.

It was uncomfortable. It was intimate. It was everything.

It made his skin crawl, yet he wanted nothing more than to burrow deeper into his arms.

The way Wyll looked at him, one would think that Astarion was an altar in which he sought to bestow his attention upon.

Once he kneaded at Wyll's lower back, Wyll arched against him.

His tail curled up and around Astarion's arm, urging him closer with a pointed tug.

As if Astarion could deny that man anything.

He took a hold of its base. A single squeeze was enough to leave him squirming.

The next one was enough to send a shiver running down his spine.

Sharp teeth sank into his bottom lip yet again.

This time, Astarion couldn't help but to ask.

“Wyll, darling, think that you could spare your favorite vampire one little kiss?”

“Only one?” Wyll asked.

“Only one.” Astarion shrugged. “Unless you want more, then I'm sure that something can be arranged.”

“Mm-hmm…” 

“I mean, if you're as curious as I am, then why hold back? I won't object.” Astarion coaxed him forward, one hand wrapped around one of his horns, the other clenched into the fabric of his shirt. “I'll even go so far as to forgive you for having me roll around in the dirt with you.”

Wyll followed his lead.

Their lips met in the briefest of pecks.

“I appreciate your leniency, my dear, in pardoning a crime so grave.”

Their noses bumped against each other before they sealed their lips into another kiss, deeper this time, more passionate.

With a swipe of his tongue, Astarion moaned at the taste of Wyll's blood, rich and sweet.

It was pure indulgence at its finest, and it was over all too soon for his liking.

Once they parted, Astarion huffed.

“Yes, yes, I try my best,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “but come now. The beautiful, heroic, legendary monster hunter has a vampire spawn at his mercy.” All too similar to those cheesy romance novels that Wyll and Shadowheart seemed to favor so much. “Whatever will he do with him?”

Wyll stopped short at that.

He played with Astarion's hair for a moment, brushing silver curls, as radiant as moonlight, out of his face.

When the quiet dragged on, Astarion frowned, thinking through what he said.

“What?” he wondered. “Was it too over-the-top?”

“Not necessarily,” Wyll told him, “but I have to know.” He took a deep, bracing breath. “Did you mean that, though?”

Ah, yes, because Astarion would blindly agree to anything without knowing what they were speaking of.

“Mean what, exactly?”

“That you think I'm beautiful,” Wyll muttered, tracing along the lines of his face, “even now.”

“Who wouldn't think that?”

Seriously, Astarion couldn't imagine anyone seeing Wyll and claiming otherwise.

“Listen, I'm not blind to people's biases. I clearly look different now compared to what people expect when they think of the Blade of Frontiers,” Wyll explained. “Will they truly accept a devil to be their hero?”

“Oh, please, if it bothers them that bad, then they don't deserve you or your help, I say,” Astarion grumbled. “Let them save themselves in that case.”

Wyll tapped his nose, causing it to wrinkle in response.

“You know that's not my style.”

“Luckily for them, it's not,” Astarion agreed, “but underneath all of the physical modifications, I hope you know that you are still the same Wyll Ravengard that I met in the grove. Not even Mizora can take that from you.”

Wyll's expression softened.

“Watch it, Astarion,” he warned, “or I might start to think that you actually mean that.”

“I do,” he stated, “because if you're not you after a few superficial changes, then…” He paused, thoughtful, his voice small. “Then, who does that make me?”

A thought that he would rather not linger on.

“A fair point,” Wyll allowed.

Astarion sat up, so Wyll adjusted his position to make room for him, not wanting to crowd him too much.

“Look, we both have had our share of life-altering transformations, yes?” When Wyll nodded, Astarion continued. “Perhaps, shall we ever find ourselves in need of it, we can be there to remind each other who we really are underneath it all.”

“You know what.” Wyll smiled at him, and Astarion returned it with one of his own. “I might take you up on that.”

Wyll got to his feet, brushed himself off, and extended his hands to Astarion.

Astarion took the silent offer, Wyll helping him up before Astarion straightened out his appearance as well.

With Wyll so close, it was all too easy to forget about the world around them.

Clearing his throat, Astarion withdrew before he could get too carried away.

“Well, on that note,” he announced, “I think that I should go hunt for the night before my appetite is completely ruined. All of this sappy talk is starting to make me feel nauseous.” Even as he voiced his desire to leave, his feet remained planted to the ground. “Sweet dreams, Wyll.”

“Good night, my star.” His face fell at the thought of him leaving so soon. As he started to depart, Wyll reached out to stop him. “Astarion, wait.” Thankfully, he wasn't in too much of a rush to go, turning to Wyll when he took him by the hand. “I, erm— Maybe you could— I don't know.” He gestured vaguely. “Maybe you would like to feed from me tonight? You know, to save yourself the energy.”

How generous.

Nevertheless, Astarion beamed at him.

Their tails coiled around each other, Astarion dragging him closer.

“Darling, I’d be more than happy to.” Astarion offered his arm to him. “Shall we?”

Wyll wove his arm through his.

“Let's see where the night takes us.”

Turned out, maybe Astarion was better at the whole “comfort” thing than he originally thought.

[getlostsquidward]

dying in your lips is how i wanna go

pairing: demon!agatha harkness x reader

a/n: re-fucking-post because it isnt showing in the tags

summary: agatha has done well on keeping her desire to ravish you under control in fears that she might scare you away, until one day, she snaps.

warnings: 18+, agatha has a penis, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal, praise and degradation, breeding kink, overstimulation, cumflation, cockwarming, porn with a sprinkle of fluff

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

“The devil is in the details.”

“That's not the only place he is.”

Agatha has warned you from the beginning, but you kept brushing her off. Not that you don't believe her, you do, being a witch and all that. You often joked that Agatha meeting you was because of a spell you botched, accidentally summoning her, and now she has to live with you because you don't know how to send her back.

You'd keep on telling her that she is the most beautiful demon you've laid your eyes on, but you haven't seen her true form.

About her true self, and how she might lose the semblance of humanity that she'd acquired from centuries of blending in with mortals—lose control, go berserk, and heaven knows what.

It has been long since she's indulged in her diabolical desires, and with you under her, with that beautiful shade of lipstick smearing on your cheeks and her cock—she knows there's only a short amount of time until she unleashes her demons.

You were so occupied sucking her that you didn't notice the nails buried in your hair starting to grow and sharpen. Agatha herself was lost in the way your cheeks would hollow, the gagging sounds music to her ears as she fucks your throat—that she doesn't feel her tail coming forth, the appendage seemingly with its own mind, slithering towards your still lace-clothed cunt.

You moaned both from pleasure, and surprise—was that Agatha? 

Briefly, you let go of her cock, your eyes locked on to the pale purple color as it starts to bleed into her alabaster skin. Her fingers, you notice, are stained black up to the knuckles; her nails, always kept short, were long and sharp and claw-like.

When you made no move to escape, her tail began to creep towards your mouth, the pointy and tongue-like end prodding between your lips. As your tongue made contact with it, Agatha whined under her breath, telling you there's more than her fingers and cock that will have their turns inside you.

Agatha's pupils are blown, gradually spreading over her bright blue irises until her whole eyes become pitch black. It should be enough to have you run away in fear, but you stay glued to where you are, looking up at her with sparkling eyes and parted swollen lips. So small. So vulnerable. All for her to break.

Her soft spot for you has her starved, keeping herself from ravishing you wholly, only indulging in kissing and dry humping—afraid that if things went too far and she let herself feed on your lust, she'll scare you away and lose you.

But with you offering yourself on a silver platter, who is she to deny?

Curled horns start to sprout from her head, along with her pointy ears, and finally, her wings–huge and bat-like, spreading freely given the enormous space of the room.

You thought that that was the last of it until she grew taller, almost seven-foot in your quick estimate. Of course, along with the growth spurt is her cock.

Goodness gracious.

You stare at it, unconsciously licking your lips at the thought of it absolutely railing the living lights out of you.

The woman– demon in front of you could kill you with her bare hands, thighs, and wings, and you find yourself aroused beyond measure. 

Agatha caresses your cheeks with a finger, her tail slithering out of your lips. “Penny for your thoughts, Y/N.”

“Ruin me, Agatha,” mindlessly, you pleaded. Agatha smirks, the lust that radiates off of you sating some of her hunger—but she needs more. “Make me yours.”

“Mm, but you're already mine, aren't you? My pretty little human.”

Agatha leans down, pressing her lips to yours. 

Your hands fly around her neck to stabilize yourself, your knees going weak with the way she's practically devouring your mouth—her forked tongue demanding entrance and slides with yours.

She hooks her hands on your thighs as she lifts you up so easily like a rag doll. Your legs hook around her waist in turn, her cock hard and stiff against your stomach. Agatha pulled away with a whine, as she settles you down gently on the faux fur on the floor—the beds and the tables not sturdy enough for her.

Your breath catches in your throat as she towers over you once again in all her infernal glory—all that was left was her fucking you raw. You want– no, need to have that devilish cock in your cunt.

Prying your thighs apart, you watch her with bated breath as her mouth lavishes your core, her tongue licking stripes from your clit, swirling on your entrance, even reaching up to your ass. Agatha's mouth is so wet and hot and your pussy clenches around nothing as she eats you out like her last meal. Her hand crawls across your stomach, her nails grazing leaving trails in their wake. She reaches out to your breasts, her thumb and forefinger playing with your puckered buds.

Agatha rises between your legs, her smile showing her sharpened teeth and fangs—so sinister, yet so beautiful. She removes her hand from one of your nipples and replaces it with her tongue, licking and sucking and soaking your chest with drool, which quickly cools with the air.

One hand slips between your bodies, finding the warmth she so craves. Two of her fingers enter you immediately as her thumb plays with your clit. Agatha relishes the obscene squelching sound your cunt makes. She feels you clenching around her digits, and slows her thrusts. You whine when she removes her fingers, feeling so empty. “Uh-uh, sweets. I want to see you cum on my cock.”

She has no doubts that your pussy will swallow her huge dick greedily, but she licks you again, and again, for good measure. “I can't get enough of this fucking pussy. You taste heavenly, my pretty slut.”

Before you can say anything, if there's still anything/ left for you to say, her cock slides into you in one sharp thrust, not even letting you breathe for a second.

Oh well, you've been waiting for it.

Agatha lifts your legs up to her shoulders so she can reach into you deeply, your heels digging into her skin as she fucks you relentlessly. With watery eyes, you watch her wings flutter with every push.

Her cock stretches your cunt and you're sure she's reached your cervix. As she pounds into you mercilessly, you feel another appendage, her tail, creeping up on your ass hole. With the seemingly endless slick your pussy releases, it slides into your ass with no trouble. You throw your head back, eyes on the ceiling as your mouth falls open in silent screams and breathy moans.

“Look at you, so pretty all filled up…Do you want me to pump you even fuller with my cum? Gonna fuck my babies into you. I bet you'd want that, hm? My dirty whore?”

“Yes, fuck me! I want all your cum inside me, please, Agatha! Fuck– right there! I'm– please– gonna cum…” you babble out nonsense, mind heady with pleasure and desire to be bred by this painfully hot demon.

//

You've lost count of how many times Agatha made you cum—not that you were counting anyway. She carried your pliant body around as she maneuvers you in whatever position she thought of, her energy and stamina bottomless. 

Every part of your body feels sore and you think you need a whole week of sleep to regain your strength. You weren't complaining, though. Not every person can say they had such out-of-this-world sex.

Agatha's cum seemed bottomless too as she filled your womb up, your belly now bloated with all of her. She rests for a good few seconds before going again–and you wonder, why did the two of you have to resist each other?

And the way she empties herself into you wasn't a slow spurt of white hot cum, no– it was like a fucking high-pressure hose. Agatha just kept cumming, your name rolling off her tongue, with Your cunt feels so good, You're made for me–only for me along the lines.

Her words make you feel so fuzzy, and you're so ready to take all of it.

It didn't take too long before your belly rounded like a pregnant woman in her full term, ready to pop. Agatha tugged at your hair gently to whisper in your ear, “I love you, my pretty little human,” she pants in between words, and this time you feel that her endless cum finally had its end. Her cock is still buried in your pussy as she shrinks down to her human size. “Mine.”

—

tags: @midnight-lestrange @our-blood-is-our-ink @minszhuo @tr333sus @shayzulia @academiagaymess @thenazwife @p-nymph @wandakink @phattypoobutt @starrknessblog @gmtsu @inlovewithagathaharkness80

[bestworstcase]

You’ve referenced Salem’s “what they could never be” line in the lost fable in connection with a Faunus creation myth a few times. Could you provide the larger context of that line from the Text/Book you’re citing? Like a quote of the full passage or where to read the story you’re referring to. I’m trying to cook and there’s a wrinkle I want to unravel there

's from the end of ‘the shallow sea’ in fairytales of remnant (epub, if you want to read the full text. link is to the drm-stripped version in my mega archive 👍)

context: the god of animals has an island populated by all kinds of animals. they’re fascinated by humans and long to invite some into their world, but they’re also wary because they know how ruinous and cruel humans can be. so they disguise themself and go around the world seeking out outcasts, people who feel like they don’t belong, and gather them to sail to the island. there, the god of animals leaps off the boat into the shallows to reveal their true form as a shapeshifter and invites their chosen people to follow:

“This can be your home, if you want it. You’re right, this is no place for mere Humans—but you are no mere Humans. If you jump from the boat and join me, you will see.” The people with the strongest faith leapt from the boat immediately and splashed in the shallow water toward the shore. Those who stayed behind on the boat watched their brethren transform before their eyes, each of them acquiring an animal trait: ram horns, rabbit ears, cat ears, monkey tails, and more. By the time they reached land, they were something new to Remnant—both Human and animal at the same time. “This land is no less hospitable than where we came from,” the people on the beach said. “But here at least we have control of our fates, free from the influence of others.” More people on the boat, emboldened by the miracle they had witnessed, jumped next into the water. They followed the others to the shore of the island, each of them changing in the process, taking on animal features of their own: leopard spots, lion manes, lamb ears, pig snouts, crocodile scales, and more. The final group of people on the boat hung on to the railing. “What have you done to them?” they cried. “They didn’t do anything to us,” the people on the shore called. “The water hasn’t changed us. It has washed away the lies to reveal what we’ve always been, just under the surface. Our old forms were just a shallow disguise. This is who we are.” A few dozen more people on the boat were convinced. They dropped into the ocean, and though they transformed more slowly, by the time they stepped out of the water, they, too, had become their true selves and were welcomed onto the island. But the small group remaining on the boat were too horrified or afraid to take the leap of faith. “What kind of monster are you?” they shouted at the God of Animals. The god’s heart hardened against these people. “You were my chosen ones, but you have disappointed me. You may stay on the boat and return to your homes. There is no place for you here.” And with that, the ocean current swept the ark away with the Humans. “The sea revealed the shallowness of their thoughts,” the god told their chosen people. “Without them ever stepping off the boat.” From that moment on, there have been animals, Humans, and Faunus. And the descendants of the Humans who turned away from our god’s great gift have always carried envy in their hearts. To this day, they resent us for reminding them of what they are not and what they never can be.

…and that’s the end of the story. here’s ozpin’s commentary in full:

Although this fable once was among the most common stories told to Faunus children, it has never been written down before its appearance here, not by Faunus and certainly not by Humans. I gave serious consideration as to whether to include it, but as it provides a lovely, and I think necessary, counterpoint to “The Judgment of Faunus,” also in this collection, I felt it important to record. I humbly request forgiveness if I am perceived to have overstepped myself in any way; know simply that I deeply respect the rich history of Faunus and wish to represent them among stories of Remnant. As Faunus stories are generally passed down from generation to generation, few outsiders have ever heard them, and that does everyone a disservice. We must be exposed to the stories of people from all kingdoms and cultures, Humans and Faunus alike, if we hope to make progress in understanding one another. That said, we must take care not to characterize “The Shallow Sea” as a mere story, for it is so much more to Faunus. I do not wish to subject it to the literary critiques I might bring to another tale. This story is a key to Faunus’s identity, and therein lies its chief value. However, I will note that many Humans and even Faunus view this story as mere fantasy, a fanciful creation myth—and even, perhaps, a dangerous one. In the aftermath of the Great War, when Faunus settled on Menagerie, the story of a magical island made just for them has become tinged with bittersweet irony. Consequently, the story has fallen out of favor and I understand it is rarely spoken these days. This, too, influenced my decision to record it before it is lost to posterity. Here I will remind you that this story—dare I say every story ever told—may still hold a kernel of truth, even if the plot details are contrived. Whatever the criticisms laid upon “The Shallow Sea,” in my opinion it still holds deep truths about Humans and Faunus that everyone should take the time to consider.

[skipper728]

My Twilight Sparkle human and pony redesign/AU!

For her pony redesign, I wanted to focus on making her more “magical/ethereal” looking. I incorporated that into her design because in my AU, large amounts of magic/power can drastically change a ponies appearance! Of course, the severity depends on the pony’s personality, their attachment to their old life (before they were an Alicorn), and the amount of magic/power they acquire. Also, in my AU all Unicorns have curved horns, and the length is a spectrum! In most cases, the longer the horn the more powerful a ponies magic is! Obviously there are some exceptions due to genetics playing a role in the length as well (including mutations/disorders). Another trait specific to Unicorns is their tail! Like with their horns, there can be many exceptions! For example, if a filly has one Unicorn parent and one Earth Pony parent, they could have either tail, or even a mixture of both! I also decided to give Twilight some jewelry, as most royals historically have lots of gems/gold/etc. Her vision deteriorated over the years due to several reasons; 1-Reading for very long periods of time (4-10h) 2-Reading in the dark often 3-Holding books very close to her eyes. That’s why I gave her glasses! Although she probably won’t ever see perfectly again, the glasses help her a ton. As for her cutie mark, I thought making it more “magic-y” could be fun!

Her human design is very similar, except for the fact that she’s a human and not a pony of course! She has vitiligo in place of her swirly magic markings and glasses, and I incorporated her cutie mark by giving her a little star necklace! In this AU, she’s very interested in space, hence the spacey vest. She also loves skirts with built in shorts, stating that “They’re comfy and efficient!”. She says the same about her shoes! She’s always had some sensory issues, so she only has one pair of socks. Don’t worry though, she has a ton of the exact same pair! She’s very hygienic, but not a germaphobe. Speaking of germs, she loves biology (almost as much as space)! I kept her hair streaks and gave her a messenger bag! It holds all her study materials, and she takes it with her everywhere.

!!DISCLAIMER!!

Quick disclaimer, all of this is from my AU and I’m not trying to imply that it’s canon at all! It’s only for entertainment purposes, and everyone has the right to their own opinions/views on things. Also, please don’t steal/repost my art! If you wanna make fanart/use this as inspiration that’s fine! Just please credit me, and don’t use inspiration as an excuse to straight up copy my art. That being said, if you *do* make fanart/an art piece inspired by this, PLEASE tag me!!! I really wanna see how everyone interprets this!

[celestiafaerie]

FFXIV Write Day 1 - Steer

Listen, I know I am late. But I did it! My first ever FFXIV Write entry!

Characters:

Celestia Faerie (WoL) G'raha Tia Word Count: 502

Summary:

Celestia wants to make that bank and spots her favorite person whilst gathering materials.

“Ugh, sometimes I wish I wasn’t so cheap.” Celestia sighed to herself in her car. She was working on crafting a new item to sell on the marketboard. Unfortunately, in order to make that item she needed several different items that she knew she could gather herself.

It felt like she was gathering for ages and she was starting to figure out if it was all really worth the amount of gil she was going to make. The driving around on her recently acquired Regalia on her various side adventures, the searching for the materials, and all the math she needed to work out for the craft was starting to not seem worth anything. In the distance she sees a figure walking. The walking figure started looking somewhat mi’qote shaped and familiar.

“Is that..? What is he doing out here? In the middle of La Noscea?” Celestia was confused beyond belief. Why would he be here just walking about? She sped up a little to catch up and honked the horn, startling the mi’qote.

“WHA!!” The mi’qote jumped in the air as Celestia pulled up next to him. His demeanor changed from scared to relieved and then nervous. He knew she was going to be in the area, but he was hoping he could fly under her radar while he helped out. “HAHA! I got you, Raha!” Celestia couldn’t help but laugh at how spooked the mi’qote looked, fluffed up tail and all. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. What are you doing out here anyway? And why are you walking?” 

“Well, I…. I wanted to help… I knew you were gathering some things.” He paused, rubbing his arms in the cute embarrassed way that Celestia had recognized. “I just wanted to help you out.” He pulls from behind him, a bag of the materials Celestia was gathering. 

“Raha! Oh my.” Her face went from smiling to concerned. Celestia got out of the car and opened the bag of materials rummaging and seeing it was more than enough of what she needed. Tears started forming in her eyes as she dropped the bag and threw herself towards G’raha barrelling him into a hug. G’raha startled at first by the whiplash of emotions he experienced on Celestia’s face and then pure joy knowing he did good, wrapped his arms around her and hugged back.

“Okay, but you didn’t answer my second question, why are you walking?” Celestia pulling back and looking at G’raha’s flushed face.

“Well, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself in case you were near me. I was hoping I would sense you coming towards my direction and I could hide fast enough.” He said raising both arms into a shrug. Celestia backed up a step and put her arms on her hips. 

“Raha, you are so silly.” She turned towards the car and made a beckoning motion towards G’raha, “Get in the car, I gotta head back now and craft this before the numbers drop on the marketboard again.”

Thank you @bananarose for being a placeholder for me to gpose this idea. (I needed someone to stand outside of the car so Banana was my G'raha for a moment lol ) Thank you @jaysdividers for the dividers used here.

[monstersandmaw]

March's Patreon-exclusive story is up on Patreon!

Preview:

Soldiers came to Caersands in the spring, when the roads were passable again after a hard winter winter, and the rumblings of war with the island nation of Farshoal were kicking off in earnest.

At first, it had proved exciting to have company after company of soldiers — archers, infantrymen, even a small centaur cavalry-archer unit pf bonded riders and centaurs, and, lastly, an aerial squad with heavy, armoured griffins and nimble flying drakes. But after they had eaten the large sea port almost out of provisions, and caused scene after scene by getting drunk and rowdy, either with the locals or with each other during their off-duty hours, and making work for law clerks like you who had to file and process all the charges, attitudes towards them in the town began to sour.

Nobility saw them as little more than ruffians, and the traders and townsfolk found them a nuisance.

Tensions with neighbouring Farshoal put everyone on edge, and as the summer drew on and there was no sign of either diplomacy or open war, things showed no sign of improving.

Halfway through copying out the last document on your long list for the day, you glanced up when the door to your employer’s study opened, and the tall, imposing dragonborn lawyer stepped out. His long, spined tail dragged on the floor, and his usually bright, flaming orange eyes had a distinct dullness to them.

“Sir?” you asked with concern, setting down your quill. The enchanted lamp that threw steady, unwavering light around the small chamber cast the scales of his pearlescent body into starker relief than usual, and made the hollows of his eyes look deeper despite the gemstone orange of his eyes. “Everything alright?”

“Hm? What? Oh, yes,” he sighed, startling a little, as though he’d forgotten his clerk would still be out there. “Yes,” he said again, and wafted a piece of paper held delicately between his clawed fingers in your direction. “This was among the cases put on my desk today. The minotaur who allegedly attacked a group of civilians… A sad affair, I think.”

You nodded. You’d read through the summary earlier. A huge minotaur — and a soldier in the Queen’s army — had apparently gone into some kind of berserker rage and attacked a group of noblemen late at night. He had claimed it had been in defence of someone else, but the noblemen all denied it, and they never found the person he’d claimed to have been protecting. He’d been taken into custody and locked up in a cell in Caersands Castle, awaiting trial. “You don’t normally take criminal cases,” you said to Master Embershard. “Why did this get sent your way? And why isn’t it being dealt with by the military courts?”

“There are no other lawyers available to take it at the moment, and since the nobles are the ones pressing charges, it’s a civilian matter. Gods, I wish it was a simple case of property law, but as it is, I feel obliged to take it since everyone else has their plates full. Something doesn’t add up about this one though. We’ll talk to him tomorrow morning.”

Master Embershard ran a clawed hand over his muzzle and shook his head. The long, ivory horns with their rare, rainbow sheen glinted in the light, and the myriad of pale spines that ran down between them to emerge again at his tail, caught the light of the enchanted lantern. You didn’t know exactly how old he was, but you knew that the older a dragonborn got, the more thorn-like spines they acquired, and the sharper they got. Master Embershard had a lot of spines.

You read through the documents again when you’d finished your day’s work, memorising the names of the nobles involved, and trying to imagine what meeting this supposedly violent minotaur would be like. You’d never met a minotaur. They tended to live in the grasslands much further to the east of the country, and you’d grown up in Caersands; the capital of the duchy that sat on the western coast of the continent. The non-humans you were familiar with were selkies and merfolk, the orcish merchant sailors and the sylvan elves who came to the port city to trade their rich, fruit liquors from the forests to the north. Minotaurs were often found with gnolls and werebears and even hardy satyrs in the gladiatorial rings in other cities, but Caersands had banned fighting pits a century ago.

After a night of broken sleep, you joined Master Embershard and walked with the aged dragonborn through the heaving streets, keeping a close eye on your small purse and large bag.

Two burly orcs stood in fine ducal livery, guarding the bridge to the castle with halberds flashing in the summer sun, but Master Embershard handled the necessary introductions, and you trailed into the castle after him.

Caersands Castle had stood on the promontory of the curved port town for time out of mind, with high-reaching, crenellated towers and a keep at its heart that was squat and solid as a boulder. The rich limestone walls were pitted and stained with age, and the salt in the air sent blood-red rust stains trailing down the masonry from the iron bars and torch brackets, the sight of which put you in a jumpy mood before you were even near the dungeons.

The air grew cold and dank as you descended, and Master Embershard took your arm for a little stability on the stairs as you followed behind the rancid-smelling jailer. The surly man had a mean glint to his eyes and he had the look of a man who enjoyed his position. Cries and moans drifted on the air and you tried not to think about the crimes that the people down here were accused of.

At the end of the row of festering, iron cells, the jailer paused by a solid, ironwood door and unlocked the rusty lock with a massive key. “Careful now, Master Lawyer,” he said to Embershard, leering at him through the gloom with greedy eyes. “This one’s more beast than anything. I’d advise you not to get too close, even though he’s chained.” And with that, he stepped aside and stalked past you, adding, “Shout if you need me, but you’ll have to make it loud. Sometimes I can’t hear over all the racket down here!” He left, cackling at his own poor humour, and the two of you turned your attention to the minotaur in the cell.

Your breath caught when you saw him.

A single shaft of greasy sunlight filtered down through a tiny arrow-slit high in the upper reaches of the wall, and a foul stench filled the air. It was only as you saw a slime of greenish water tracking down the wall that you realised the cell window was only just above the level of water in the moat that surrounded the castle, and you cast Master Embershard a horrified look. This was one of the cells that flooded in the winter.

Master Embershard bristled, his arthritic tail lashing back and forth, then he braced himself and stepped into the room.

As he entered, the minotaur looked up and your eyebrows rose. He was huge; bigger than any orc you’d ever laid eyes on, with colossal sloping shoulders and the dense, curly mane and convex muzzle of a bison. His horns reached outwards in two short, stocky half-moons, steel grey in the poor light of the cell. He was naked to the waist, showing a thick, dark pelt that covered his whole torso, and a short little tail rested on the filthy flagstones beside him. To cover his remaining dignity, a ragged loincloth of undyed linen had been fastened around his hips. To your shock, he was chained from both wrists to a ring in the floor, and around his thick hocks, two shackles had also been secured and bolted.

Horror dropped through you like cold moat-water and you faltered on the spot, though Master Embershard had his wits about him and cleared his throat. “Ajax Heathclear?”

Read the whole thing over on Patreon right now, or join as a free member to continue reading the free stories that would have gone up on Tumblr, as I'll be taking all my old work down as AI scraping is affecting my trust in Tumblr, shall we say?