#scent evolution | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mochinomnoms · 5 months

Note

Please share the lewd interspecies romance.

Okay so mostly I have thoughts over the Octavinelle trio, especially the twins 🫣 but i wrote a lil something for most of them! also this was not meant to be so long idk what happened

[tags] - nsfw, AFAB-implied reader, but written gender-neutral, mentions of ruts/heats, breeding, etc

nsfw under read-more, minors DNI!

If you really compare humans to the nonhuman population of Twisted Wonderland, there's are some small physiological differences between species. Fae, surprisingly, don't differ from humans all too much. Land dwellers in general don't have anything too significant, though all of nonhuman species retain aspects of their animal counterparts.

Most of Savanaclaw goes through some sort of rut/heat during various times in the year, primarily early spring and summer. There's no logical reason for them to retain that aspect of their mating cycle anymore, not for a sentient species that have skills of logic and reasoning. Unfortunately, they didn't get to choose how their evolution worked, and so they have to deal with it in anyway they can.

They get a lot more irritable, they have throbbing headaches, their abdomen hurts, and the scent of their mate is a lot more enticing than normal. Jack probably has it the worst of them, as a wolf beastmen. Not only does he have to deal with a fever-inducing rut that will put him out of commission for a week, afterwards he has to deal with the a/b/o jokes from his classmates too, oh the horror. It is really a horror though when he's able to bend you over his bed, bite marks aligned your neck and back as his dick pounds into you till his knot swells and locks you in for at least an hour. Jack's incredibly embarrassed afterwards, though he manages to be incredibly sweet even after rearranging your guts. Wolf beastmen are one of the most affectionate partners to have with a reputation providing some of the best aftercare for their species. It's most likely to make up for their week-long copulation, stretching and tiring out their sweet little mates. Ooooh, but they'll so very sweet: cleaning up the sticky mess of fluids between your legs with their tongue, careful to not overstimulate you (unless you ask), tending to the mating mark they placed on the back of your neck with soft kisses and licks, and making sure to prop your lower half up to that your chances of taking their seed increases.

Lacking the annual rut/heat that other variants of beastmen have, lion and hyena beastmen are more similar is this regard, as they don't have the same issue of long copulations as wolf beastmen. Neither will initiate sex, rather they'll rely on their mates to do so. Ruggie, in particular, is rather reluctant initiating sex, as male hyenas are typically more submissive, so if you're shy you'll have to get over it. But once you do, Ruggie is ever so happy to service you if you're happy to give him praise. Run your hands through his hair and ears as he eats you out, he'll let out the cutest whimpers and groans as you do. Just, expect to be jellyboned by the time he's done with you, as a hyena he needs to make sure his mate won't snip back at him and you can't exactly do that if your fucked out. While he may not have the same stamina as Jack for week-long fuck session, he has a particularly short refractory period and can have several short sessions in a single night.

Leona also won't typically initiate sex on his own, it happens very sporadically, and he his the image of the lazy lion. While he never wants to do anything particularly extraneous, who is he to deny you needs? You'll have to do some preparing though, as while the barbs on his dick aren't as bad as they are in his animal variant, they will hurt if you're not wet and pliable enough. Be sure to sit on his face, don't worry you won't suffocate him and it's better you cum a few times first before taking him. Unless you want it to hurt? Once you've cum enough times, you can ride him to your heart's content. He only asks that you don't mention how he rubs his head into the crook of your neck, marking you so that if everyone couldn't tell by the sounds coming from his room, they'd know you're his from his scent. Lions are quite protective with their territory and pride after all.

Merfolk have the most extreme physiological differences between them and...any land dweller really. It comes with the territory of being suited for a completely different environment. They also behave a lot more similarly to their animal counterparts, which can be both delicious and exhausting for their humans.

Moray eels don't have a set time of the year they mate, but rather the water must be warm and plenty of food must be ready to provide to their mate. When the spring time weather above the sea starts transitioning from crisp to blazing, don't be too surprised when the twins start handfeeding you meals and snacks throughout the week, they want to make sure you're happy and full for them, getting you in the mood with a sweet, dizzying underwater dance to initiate until they get the okay from you. What's that 'okay' though? You know that yawning I mentioned before? You'll get your answer from them now, as they take your open mouth yawn as an invitation rather than a sign of tiredness. Floyd, in particular, is ready to drag you into the deep part of the pool before remembering that you need to breathe somehow. Not a problem. He'll keep your pretty head above water. You'll still have trouble breathing as his long tapered tongue worms his way in your mouth. No matter, you'll be gasping for breath as he bullies this cock into your hole, large enough that you can physically feel the bump on your stomach. Morays are awfully fond of wrapping themselves around their mates, seeing as Floyd will do his best to tangle his tail around your body and squeezing you as you squeeze down his dick. He loves the physical contact between you two, and is amused how your nails try to dig into his shoulders seeing as the mucus on his skin makes it near impossible to have a steady grasp. You're completely dependent on Floyd as you drool and cry out for relief from the overstimulation, which is oh so ever exciting.

Jade is equally as cruel when it comes to mating. Unlike the others, merfolk tend to mate with the intention to, well, mate. He prefers you to be soft and pliant for him, as well as wholly depending as you two fuck. So, he'll happily brew you a water-breathing potion so he can actually drag you into the deep, where he found a secluded, warm grotto that will allow him to keep you to himself for hours, but close enough to the surface that he can continuously grab you food to eat between sessions. Not that those sessions will be short either. Like his brother, Jade is content to wrap himself around your body as he cooed honeyed words into your ears about how you'll make a wet, warm, soft hole for breeding. It's not like he'll have to do much either, his dick is prehensile and he can wrap himself around you, swiping kisses and nuzzling into the crook of your very sensitive neck while his thick cock continuously pounds into you with a bruising pace. He's so mean!! He likes seeing you cry from overstimulation too, and Jade will continuously scoot down to clean you up with his tongue, only to claim that too much of his seed was gone and he needed to fill you up again for another few hours. He's truly quite incorrigible, especially when he bites into your neck and shoulders to make his claim on you. Don't worry, most morays' bites aren't venomous, and even if they are, you have him to care for you. You're going to be depending on him in the water anyway, so there's no need to worry about it too much.

Something that neither probably won't mention, probably because they won't realize it's something you should know, is that they can change their sex under the right conditions. If you're ever so inclined in the future to test the waters out, the twins might be so generous to let you eat them out instead.

Of the trio, Azul's the only one with an established mating season, two actually: one in the late spring and the other in the early fall. Respectively, one during finals and the other during orientation. He's already so incredibly stressed, and he has the need to breed too? Downright atrocious. It's wonderful that you're so kind that he can take refuge in you and use you like a new octopot, so tell him how pretty he is and how much you love him and only him, so that you have the privilege fucking his merform. The moment you're entering the water, he'll unconsciously display mating signals by flashing soft lilacs and blues, a beautiful display of his need for you. He's rather large, even bigger than the twins, in his merform, so you'll need preparation as well; have no fear, his tentacles are wrapping and kneading the squishiest parts of you. I mentioned before that he can taste the salt on your skin and pulse through your wrist via his suckers. He can taste the slick from your walls, too, without even having to use his mouth as the suckers massage you from the inside. If you'd like, he technically could give you a full flavor profile afterward, though he'll probably be a bit mortified to do so. The biggest difference is his dick, or lack thereof. Instead of a dick, Azul has a hectocotylus, which is a modified, slightly shorter arm of his with a thicker spade-shaped tip that he can practically rearrange your guts with, with little effort on his part really. Most octo-mer variants will keep their mate at a distance, eons of instinct hard to forget. Azul's variant, though, will keep you close, almost dancing with you in a sweet, sensual twirl as he places sweet kissing and bites on your neck, arms, and chest. Octopi are, in fact, venomous, however, so you will be feeling a bit of a lustful high, paralyzed, and a bit helpless to the whims of a needy octopus. He's quite good at aftercare though, making sure you get an antidote and handfeeding you calorie-rich snacks to energize you back up (again, he's aware that you won't eat him, but instinct dictates that he keeps you full with both food and cum to make you a happy mate).

*collapses into heap on floor* thoughts....full.....ahahaha breeding kink go burrrrr. i was not meant to write this much and then it escaped me. also i hate tagging

5K notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

Note

I'm kinda obsessed lately with the concept of "human pet shops" in the monster au, horangi dragging könig to one so he can find a pet but könig it's actually the one to fall in love, how couldn't he? You look so hopeless

I love you!! I love your brain!! Omg yesss, it would fit so perfectly into a dystopian setting. Monsters take control over civilization, belittling humanity as the strongest beings in this world - there is nothing humans can do when most of them are killed, and only the prettiest, most breedable ones are left. It's really funny, how monsters completely disrupt normal evolutional progress - now it's not the strongest or smartest human who can survive, it's the most submissive and cute people, who just happen to catch the eye of their monster masters. You are just like this - adorable, pretty, perfect for some asshole of a werewolf to take you as their breeding mate...and then you get noticed by Konig. One of the worst possible scenarios - mercenary, colonel is infamous KorTac, Konig isn't the kind of monster who harboured warm feelings towards humans. He needs a warm hole to dump his eggs in and, at first, he thinks this is what you are. Sleeping on the floor, getting dragged by his tentacles constantly...then he actually took you home, placed you on his bed only to have you rolling over into a curling position and snoring softly because this is the best bed you had in months...

Besides forced breeding, he gives you too much freedom - you're only chained by a collar, but free to roam his house, you have a really nice nest where you can sleep during the day, and he takes you to his bed constantly. At first just for sex, but then he started to leave you toys and books and sweets that humans like... You're still so scared, so terrified of this big monster taking advantage of you almost every night(( your insides are constantly sore, you are tired of being bred and naked, and you just want to run away like a stray kitten, but Konig slowly introduces you into his world. You're so pathetic, so dumb, he almost feels bad every time he forces you into the shower, you hate being wet and cold(( he loves cold water, but will force through hot bathes just to make you smile, will buy you sweetly scented shampoos and little toys for the bath, so his human pet can have fun while he is washing her hair!! You're still forced to take his cocks and tentacles in your holes every night, despite your protests - you are begging him to give you a break, but he only adds more and more eggs in your tired holes(

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #monster!konig #cod x reader

2K notes · View notes

jadeazora · 9 months

Text

Dipplin's Ability: Supersweet Syrup

Dipplin's Supersweet Syrup Ability is newly introduced in The Teal Mask. When Dipplin enters the battle, the scent of its syrup spreads across the battlefield, lowering the evasiveness of opposing Pokémon.

New Move: Syrup Bomb

One move that Dipplin can learn, Syrup Bomb, is a Grass-type special attack that causes an explosion of syrup. This move coats the target in syrup and causes its Speed stat to lower each turn for three turns.

A Newly Discovered Evolution of Applin!

This newly discovered Evolution of Applin is distinct from Flapple and Appletun. The head sticking out seems to belong to one of two separate creatures, while the tail belongs to the other. Both creatures help each other out from within their shared apple.

Dipplin coat their apples with syrup produced within their bodies. The layers of fragrant syrup beguile opponents.

#dipplin #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon sv #pokemon sv dlc #the teal mask #the hidden treasure of area zero

677 notes · View notes

aziraphales-library · 5 days

Note

Hi there!

I was wondering if you had any recommendations of fics that have Aziraphale as a priest? i’m in search of some but have no idea how to find them.

only ask is that it’s 3k words and up!

Thanks so much for all you do, you are truly the foundation holding the fanfiction side of Good Omens together!

lots of love x

Hello! We have #priest Aziraphale & #priests au tags. And of course there is the priest Aziraphale tag on AO3. Here are more to add to our collection...

All The Lights That Light The Way by FeralTuxedo (E)

On the run from a disastrous work Christmas party, Anthony Crowley encounters an angel singing in the streets of Soho.

& Forgive Us Our Trespasses (Of Which The First Is Love) by ineffable_angle (M)

Fleabag-inspired AU where anthropologist Dr. Anthony J Crowley becomes friends (and then definitely more) with the hot priest Father Aziraphale Moore. They meet at their high school reunion and discover that they just can't quite stay away from one another. Mainly, they debate evolution, go to brunch, and overcome Anthony's religious trauma. Some scenes and dialogue from season 2 of Fleabag do show up, but the plot is not the exact same.

The scent of incense on his fingers by gimmewhiskey (E)

Crowley knew what was twirling on Aziraphale's tongue. “Don't even think about saying you forgive me," he whispered, then turned and strode quickly to the door. Aziraphale stared after him for a few moments longer. He slowly raised his hand and touched his lips. There was a scent of incense on his fingers. ...Or the story of how a successful lawyer Anthony J. Crowley successfully pretends to forget his old love while Father Aziraphale atones for sins for them both.

(Let's) Do it again by gagna_onni (M)

Father Fell has lived his whole life in a small town in Wales. His life is simple, the community is kind and welcoming and he does all he can to help everyone. One day a guest arrives at his clergy house. And right after his arrival, things start to change in an unexpected way.

in your own time by ineffabildaddy (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Faith, Hope, and Love (And the Greatest of These Is Love) by khh1961 (E)

A young Father Aziraphale Fell takes up his first post as a junior priest, under the stern supervision of Monsignor Gabriel (who very much likes things to run his way, thank you kindly) and meets fellow parish priest, Father Anthony Crowley. Our young Father Fell is immediately captivated by Father Crowley's handsome face, ginger hair, and dead sexy Scottish accent. This looks to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. But what else it may become remains to be seen. Love and the will of God are both ineffable.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #priest aziraphale #priests au #adult omens #mod d

171 notes · View notes

darksilvania · 1 year

Text

LEDYCEIT & LEDYCEPTIV (Bug/Poison)

This spider pokemon have evolved to mimic LEDYBA & LEDIAN which are their natural prey. They will infiltrate their swarms and separate the weakest members to devour them. They are able to mimic not only their appearance but their ability to comunicate through scent, altough the chemicals they use are mixed with a toxic substance that numbs its preys senses and lowers their ability to see through their disguise. Their "antenae" are actually modified mandibles with wich they can inject a powerful paralyzing toxin.

LEDYCEIT comes from Ladybird and Deceit (the action or practice of deceiving someone by concealing or misrepresenting the truth) LEDYCEPTIV comes from Ladybird and Deceptive (giving an appearance or impression different from the true one; misleading)

People really liked my other MIMIC POKEMON so I decided to make more, not sure if they should be considered convergent evolutions or simply mimic pokemons tho.

They are based on the Ladybird-mimic spiders (Paraplectana Sp.) and the male Ladybird Spider (Eresus sandaliatus)

1K notes · View notes

astrum99 · 3 months

Text

Do you think bugs fall in love?

Their small bodies host even tinier brains. Built to crawl through soil and rocks bigger than itself. Running on a simple software bouncing between eat, sleep, fight, flight, and copulate.

V1 is smarter than a bug. It must be. It’s a war machine, so it must be. Its programming is complex enough to fry several motherboards; the internals are heated from constant, unrelenting processing needs. If it updates its optical data intake to any greater degree than these rough, messy polygons, it’d surely perish from the overwhelming information.

V1 is built to kill first, survive second. To be fair, survival would ensure more killing, so it’d be more effective. Moving through the battlefield, culling lives, drawing blood. Perfectly aligned with its programmed objectives, then.

Gabriel is smarter than a bug. He must be. He’s an angel, so he must be. He’s one of the best soldiers in the heavenly realm. Armour and swords glistened with pride and justice. He sees all. He judges all. His loyalty and perfect track record have earned him a high rank within the order. Leaving behind the creaturely "it". His light burns hot and bright within his constitution.

Gabriel is built as a messenger of the Father, then a judge of Hell. To be fair, the role of a judge was assigned to him by the council, so he supposes that his placement can be summed up as the bearer of the divine authority to bring right to all other creatures. Perfectly aligned, then.

Bugs… Well, they’re the same. I suppose. Small beings. Running pre-programmed orders derived from centuries of evolution: eat, sleep, fight, flight, and copulate. No role. No responsibilities.

Bugs are built naturally and fully, unlike humankind; but formed and ready to go within seconds from their births, like machines and angels.

So. Do they live?

When the machine and the angel escape their chains, do they see themselves in bugs?

Bugs are born to live, temporarily, fleetingly, yet live nonetheless. Do they, then, deserve to live, freeing and meaninglessly. No role. No responsibilities.

So. Do bugs love?

Do they learn that they can go beyond their basic structures? Do they see their own reflection in each other’s compound eyes? Do they recognize each other’s bodies, scents, heat? Do they feel the desire for closeness?

To flutter wings like a dance of waltz. To brush antennae like butterfly kisses. To greet and caress and lie next to each other near their death.

To move through the sky in battle, in passion. To clash swords and fists and bullets. To greet and caress and lie next to each other near their death.

The same cells in the same blood coursing beneath the same suit of exoskeletons.

Machine, angel, bug. Boiled down to the barest essence of existence; crisp simplicity.

To live, to love.

#(im thinking abt how angels have a default pronoun of it/its and went insane – they’re so bugs; like machine)#v1 ultrakill #ultrakill #gabv1el #gabriel ultrakill #az thoughts #also if this flops im flinging myself into the sun #is this any good; is it; is it <- desperate #im just really tired rn i think; its fine #wrote between lectures; thought abt queueing but whatever its fine #got like 4 group projects and a giant assignment and no free time during the last weekend i am fine i am fine i am fine #its fine for me to write Things instead of working on stuff this is destressing its fine #i need to be spun in a washing machine and left on a hanger to dry for approximately 12 hours and then ironed for way too long #<- going insane but in a bad way #someone pls take me out (date or murder; surprise me)

154 notes · View notes

strangerstilinski · 5 months

Text

eddie the hero

summary; the holidays bring about daddy issues of the decidedly un-sexy variety, but eddie is a total sweetheart and a goofball to boot. (this is very self indulgent.) 2.6k warnings; some angst but a very very fluffy end, trauma from overly-critical parents, eddie being sweet, some blood, a brief anxiety attack maybe?, i think reader is written gn (eddie refers to reader as a fair maiden but like jokingly? so do with that what you will) a/n; turns out, a combination of being home for the holidays and listening to mean by miss swift on the drive out brought up, uh... this. shout out to my dad for being himself over this holiday season, and shoutout ruby for very delicately insisting (repeatedly) that i get my shit together and simply.. make something of this trauma dump. so here it is; a wee bit of angst with lots of fluff to round it all out.

The kitchen is in chaos.

You've got about a hundred different things going at once in an effort to get everything ready for the holiday dinner that you and Eddie agreed to host. The smell of cinnamon from your morning baking endeavors still lingers in the air, though it's slowly being overtaken by rosemary and and the earthy scent of fresh vegetables. The hair at the nape of your neck is beginning to feel a bit stifling with heat from the oven already warming house, and you make a mental note to crack a window once your friends and family begin trickling in.

It's a little overwhelming, but you're doing your best to get what you've deemed the more detailed-oriented aspects of preparation done while Eddie is busy in the shower.

You intend to be finished by the time he's done getting ready. A mental plan has been laid out. You'll have the knife in your hand washed and dried and put away before he even emerges from the bathroom— no problem.

There was a problem though: you hadn't been quick enough.

You're in a zone of sorts. So much so, that you don't notice the footfalls of your boyfriend making his way down the hallway toward the kitchen. When he speaks from the doorway, his voice takes you completely by surprise.

"What are you doing?" Eddie's voice is soft as ever, though you're unable to process the gentle innocence in the tone of his question.

The realization that you've been caught has the heat in the kitchen very suddenly feeling entirely too warm. Your collar is entirely too tight around your neck while your mind whirls with sudden anxiety.

It's as if Eddie is no longer there. Instead, your ears are filled with the echo of your father's voice, the condescension in his tone ringing sharply in your skull.

"What are you doing?"

"Why are you doing it like that?"

"It's not that hard, bud. Just do it like this and it'll be better. How many times do I have to tell you-"

His voice would toe the line between irritated and amused, narrowed eyes making you feel a fool. It would prompt a frustrated prickle behind your own eyes and a tightness in your jaw when he'd show you the way you should've been doing it in the first place.

You heart races now with that unhealed scab of your father's never ending dissatisfaction. His impossible standards. His mean little digs and criticisms that masqueraded as him merely wanting you to be better.

Because you could always be better.

Growing up it was sports, your effort in school, it was the way you putted in mini golf, it was 'why on earth would you not dry the glasses when you washed dishes? That's just stupid because now they'll air dry with spots and-' From there began the slow evolution into the way that you drove your car, the way you spent money, how often you called and what time of day you called when you did..

Nothing you did was enough. In his eyes, there here was always something wrong, something that could be improved.

It's entirely possible that the stress of the holiday is getting to you already, if the way you've very quickly begun to spiral is any indication. And though there's nothing more than curiosity in your boyfriend's question, the familiarity of it makes you flinch nonetheless.

It happens in a flash. The paring knife in your grip slips and the blade slices the edge of your thumb instead of the potato you'd been getting prepped for boiling. A sharp sting that you barely notice. The sight of the blood that pools quick from the shallow cut has your ears ringing, Eddie's soft curses sounding muffled when they curl at your ears. It's a bit like you're underwater, sounds eerily distorted and brain fuzzy with the heavy beat of your heart.

"Sorry—"

It comes out as nothing more than a murmur under your breath. With a slight delay, you have the foresight to move your hand from above the bowl of already sliced and cleaned potatoes. Wrist now clutched to your chest, you zero in on the drops of blood that have already stained a few of them, red bleeding into the starchy whiteness.

"S-sorry, I just-"

Your voice is shaking as Eddie grabs a kitchen towel, his hands gently cradling your own and dabbing the towel at the cut so he can examine the severity of your injury. His brows are furrowed beneath the wispy curtain of his wet bangs, brown eyes wide with worry. His fingers are free of their normal assortment of rings, likely because he'd come out with the intent of helping you cook. Your eyes flick between his bare fingers and his shower-damp hair, between the roundness of his chin and the frown pulling at his lips — guilt pools heavily in your gut at the sight.

"I shouldn't 've been using a knife anyway, but I couldn't find the peeler s-so I just used the knife. I-I know it wastes more of the potato, I know that's not-" Your breath comes out trembling, your whole body wracking with it as your eyes prickle and burn with embarrassment. Your words come quicker, panicked, "I just wanted to get them done so I could get them in the water and start on the beans, but now I-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Eddie soothes, wide palm coming up to your flushed face where his thumb drags slow over the apple of your cheek while his other hand works to secure the dish towel in your fist to stop the bleeding, "Breathe, sweetheart. You're okay."

"I'm sorry," You whisper, voice thick with tears, "Was s' stupid, I'm sorry-"

"Baby.. Baby, hey-" His voice is soft. He squares his shoulders and follows your movement as he tries to meet your eye, brown finally connecting with shining pools that threaten to spill over. The pad of his thumb catches the first drop the moment that it breaks free, smoothing the moisture along your skin as he repeats the slow back and forth motion over your cheek. "The cut's not bad, it's not very deep.. What's going on, sweet thing? What's got you so worked up?"

Your next breath catches and it has your whole body quaking when it eventually whooshes out of your chest, a pitiful little sniffle escaping you in response to the sudden influx of tears.

"I- I was doing it wrong. I know- And then I- I got blood all over the potatoes-"

"We can wash the potatoes." Eddie says all too easily, though his voice still has that anxious edge to it that does nothing to make you feel better.

"We can.. We can wash the potatoes.." You repeat cautiously, as if the thought hadn't yet occurred to you.

"Yeah, baby. We can wash the potatoes." He echoes gently.

A shaky breath falls past your lips as you nod, "Sorry." You say again.

"I'm sorry," He insists with a shake of his head, "I came in here like a bat outta hell while you were holding a knife, and I scared you into hurting yourself. I was just- Potatoes we're supposed to be one'a my jobs. And, uh-" A grimacing excuse of a smile pulls at his lips, his eyes drifting to the discarded knife that lay at the bottom of the sink, "Well.. You couldn't find the peeler because it's in the dishwasher-"

You have to fight back a sigh at his admission, "Eddie-" You admonish weakly.

"I know, I know. It's not dishwasher safe. I know that, I do," Eddie says in a rush, "You've told me a million times, I just forget in the moment. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

His earnest apology has you reeling a bit. The fact that Eddie's instinct is not just to apologize, but also to explain away his mistake with guilt dripping heavy from his words-

You suddenly feel a bit like a monster. A cruel, perfection-driven bully of your father's creation. It has a fresh wave of tears pooling in your eyes and threatening to well over.

"God," The word comes out a choked sounding thing, buried beneath the tightness in your throat, "I'm sorry, Eddie. It's not a big deal, really, 's just a peeler. If the dishwasher ruins it we'll just buy another one for, like, a dollar."

"Yeah?" Eddie treads, a cautious smile pulling at the corner of his mouth while his thumb continues to drag soft over the wetness spread across your cheekbone.

"Yeah," You sniffle around the word, panic and realization settling in and promoting your chest to heave with quick breaths, "Jesus. Y-You shouldn't be worried about my reaction to something so.. So stupid. Fuck. I- I'm just like him-"

"Woah, woah, woah. Baby, hey.. Just like who?" Eddie interrupts with a renewed sense of urgency, "What're you talkin' about?"

"My dad-" You sob, shoulders trembling with it.

"Oh, baby, hey. Hey-"

In a flash, Eddie is guiding your head into the crook of his neck, wetness transferring onto his skin as a dam breaks and your body trembles with a series of heavy sobs. You slot into the space below his jaw just as perfectly as you always do, the two of you fitting together like puzzle pieces.

He smells like shaving cream and the conditioner you'd bought him especially for curly hair. The combination of the rich masculine scent on his skin with the sweet citrusy perfume clinging to his damp hair makes your head spin as you try valiantly to follow his soft demands for you to calm down.

His voice rumbles soft over your ear as he shushes you, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple all the while. The towel wrapped around your fist tightens when Eddie's bigger hand encases your own, a slow sway overtaking your body as he urges your weight to shift from foot to foot in a soothing motion. He rocks you back and forth, your socked feet shuffling against the kitchen tile, your boyfriend's chest pressed tight to your own.

A wide palm smooths up and down your spine, a tune that sounds distantly familiar rumbling over your ear when Eddie begin to hum softly into your hair.

A minute passes, shuddering breaths come and less, the heaving of your chest and the tears in your eyes settling until each sniffle feels more embarrassing than anything else. A weak laugh bubbles up from your throat as you hone in on your boyfriend's socked feet nudging at yours with every shift side to side, your fist tightening around the blood-stained towel for a moment before you're hooking your own fingers around the back of his hand, palms clasped together.

"'re we slow dancing right now?" You ask a bit breathlessly, finally lifting your head from the curve of his neck to peer up at his with swollen, reddened eyes.

"Mhm," Eddie hums and drops his forehead against your own. That hand on your spine hikes you up against him, air forced from your lungs and another bubbling laugh pushed up your throat.

"You trying to woo me, Munson?" Your tease comes out a bit raspy from all of the crying, but you watch a grin pull at his lips regardless.

"Why?" Big brown eyes flick between your own, a little cross-eyed with how close your faces sit, "S'it working?"

You bring your free hand up to curl around the back of his neck, fingers slipping beneath his wet curls to ensure his forehead doesn't leave yours.

"It might be.." The words come out in a murmur.

You're feeling a bit mesmerized by his proximity, even after all this time. A sudden spin from your boyfriend has you stumbling over your feet, the only thing keeping you from losing your balance completely being the steadying hand that quickly finds a place on your hip and slides back to the base of your spine.

"It might be?" Eddie repeats with a scoff, "Oh, it might be, you say." A small huff of laughter escapes you and puffs out against his chin as he continues on, "Well I guess I'll just have to up the ante then, won't I? What shall I do, my fair maiden? What is it you desire? I could finish this lovely holiday dinner by myself, provide thee with sustenance-"

It's you who scoffs this time, "Right, hilarious. Our friends and Wayne will be here in less than two hours-"

"Or perhaps I'll wait until nightfall, pluck a star straight from the sky for you. Because what other courting gift could be better suited for a maiden who shines so bright-"

"Eddie," You can't help but laugh at his dramatics. The drying tear streaks on your cheeks are long forgotten now, the ridiculous man in front of you is nothing if not an expert in getting your whole attention focused on him.

"No. No, you're right. That couldn't possibly be enough to prove my endless love and devotion," He makes a show of shaking his head as he releases you from his hold and takes a step back. A sidestep has him bumping into the sink basin, a wide grin already pulling at his lips. "But this!" He announces as he snatches the bloody paring knife from the sink with a flourish, "This cursed object! Laced with evil, I'm sure! This blade that has brought harm upon you!"

You watch Eddie dispose of the knife with a smile pulling at your lips, and you only spare a small wince at the fleeting worry that it might tear through the plastic bag lining the inside of the garbage can. Eddie drops to his knees in a flash, dark denim coming into contact with the kitchen tile at your feet. His hands grip at the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you with wide eyes, the brown pools swimming with mischief and humor and love.

"-It is dealt with, my dear. It will never hurt you again. This I swear-"

The blood-stained towel falls to the floor as you take his head in your hands, carefully avoiding the drying cut on your thumb. You're swallowing down laughter as you guide him to his feet again. Your heart feels full enough to burst, and Eddie's expression of faux-seriousness is almost enough to push a giggle from your lips.

"Oh, my hero," You whisper with all of the dramatisation you can manage, "My big, handsome savior. Whatever would I have done without you here to protect me? How can I ever thank you?"

Eddie brings his palms up to your cheeks in a flash, and you know it must be a ridiculous sight. The current disaster zone that is the kitchen; ingredients lining every available inch of countertop space, a pot of salted water very nearly boiling on the stovetop, and the two of you standing at the center of it all — cradling one another's faces with all the care in the world.

Brown eyes flick slow over your face, the freckles on the bridge of Eddie's nose catching your attention all the while.

"One million kisses." He proposes.

A laugh does escape you now, though it's a giddy one, slightly flustered by just how sweet the man before you is. Your cheeks feel warm with it as your uninjured thumb drags soft over his cheek.

"One million?"

"One hundred million!" He counters immediately.

"One hundred million?" You repeat in disbelief, "Now, what's a guy like you going to do with one hundred million kisses should I give them to you?"

"Maybe you're right. Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Eddie nods valiantly, "We could start with just one, and work our way up."

"That sounds more than reasonable," Your cheeks are beginning to ache with your smile.

You push up onto your toes to brush your lips over his, scarcely touching. But when Eddie pushes forward, you rock back in an easy move, your mouth remaining just out of his reach.

"I am going to need that knife to finish dinner though," You whisper, the hushed words rushing over his lips in one breath, "The others are too dull-"

"Consider it retrieved and washed," Eddie says easily, "As soon as I get my kiss-"

It ends up being more smile than kiss, in the end, but there will be millions more to make up for it.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #*

274 notes · View notes

hometoursandotherstuff · 6 months

Text

There are some similarities to the crocodile cloaca, co-author Diane Kelly—an expert in the evolution of copulatory systems—told the New York Times, and the study suggests that, like the crocodile, this dinosaur cloaca may have housed glands responsible for spewing out mate-attracting scents.

Jakob Vinther, a paleontologist at the University of Bristol, realized that this Psittacosaurus's private parts were unusually well-preserved. A close-up of the Psittacosaurus cloaca, along with a reconstruction.

A rendering of Psittacosaurus, showing how the cloaca might have been used during courtship. "Psittacosaurus was surprisingly cute for a dinosaur, Vinther says, perhaps there was a glorious past where dinosaurs were strutting around and showing their cloacas off.” One can only hope.

#dinosaurs #dinosaur cloaca #other stuff #paleontology #biology #science #fossils

250 notes · View notes

gleamer · 1 month

Text

oc evolution + questionnaire

tagged by @rollingsim (for both, ily), @nepotisim, @sikoi, & @leavemetoplaythesims thank you guys sm! 🫂

name: marcus cain

nickname: marc (interchangeable with narc), novocain

gender: male

star sign: sagittarius

height: 6'5”

sexual orientation: bisexual

nationality/ethnicity: black (born in astresa aka a country kinda like the americas in gleamverse)

favorite fruit: cherry

favorite season: winter

favorite flower: whichever flower cindy likes at any given moment

favorite scent: aloe vera

coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: coffee

avg hours of sleep: 4 hours

dogs or cats: dogs

dream trip: duwan, moresia (also gleamverse... think singapore mixed with india)

number of blankets: 0 or 5, no in between

random fact: he did the split tongue procedure on himself after getting shitfaced... he passed out for ten minutes then proceeded to finish it when he woke back up

imma tag @diactrl, @oatvy, @vampiremilfs, @pixelddump, @bunmou, @honeymoonsimmer, @kazuaru, @veone, @birdietrait, @nomieindecisi, @cinamun, @levinbolts & anyone else who wants to do these two tags!

#i really do not consider this to be the same guy #but more so three separate guys with the same name and identifying characteristics #oc;marcus #g*

88 notes · View notes

inprogresspokemon · 1 year

Photo

Ivyeon (Grass/Poison)

#??? - On rare occasion, an Eevee can be affected by more than one environmental factor, and reacts to grow into a new, rare evolution. Grass/Poison-type Eeveelutions, called Ivyeon, can be found in warm, tropical rainforests, where their vibrant colors allow them to blend into the local plant life. They prey on a variety of Poison-type Pokemon and berries, with Poison-type Bug Pokemon often falling victim to their sweet-scented, carnivorous tail. Their mouth-like flower tail does not possess a brain of its own, but can react reflexively to ensnare prey that wanders too close, even if the Ivyeon itself is resting and hiding out-of-sight. By consuming the poison of other plants and Pokemon, Ivyeon are able to produce their own potent toxin, which can be delivered through a quick bite from their fangs or a large chomp from their tail, leaving their prey paralyzed. Acting as a protector, Ivyeon are very territorial and look down on strangers. Using their razor-like leaves, they will not hesitate to attack anyone who disrespects their jungle home. The deforestation of tropical areas seems to spur the evolution of these proud Pokemon, resulting in a sort of natural defense against the rainforest’s predators. Trainers looking raise their own Ivyeon don’t need to cut down any trees – feeding their Eevee poisonous berries from the tropics will also trigger this evolution!

Other dual-type Eeveelutions

Ivyeon was commissioned and conceptualized by @m1tch237. Thanks!

- - - - - - - - - -

Follow for more Dual-Typed Eeveelutions!

FAQ | Social Media | Pokemon Index | Commission Information

#pokemon #fakemon #in progress pokemon #dual type eeveelution #eevee #eeveelution #hybrid eeveelutions #dual type eeveeutions #hybrid eeveelution #grass type #poison type #commission #m1tch237 #ivyeon #named

872 notes · View notes

lomlhwa · 1 year

Text

treat me like a slut (l.sy)

pairing: bf!sangyeon x gf!reader

preview: your boyfriend sangyeon has been way too nice to you every time you've been intimate. so, you finally decide to ask him to be meaner. to treat you like a slut.

tags/warnings: fem reader, dacryphilia, fingering, orgasm denial, oral (m.receiving), hair pulling, spanking, degradation, so much begging, squirting, pet names (slut, whore, cockslut), strength kink, big dick!sangyeon, bulge kink, so much spit, breath play, tie as a restraint, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.2k

song recs for this fic: nasty by russ, scent by i.m, planet girl by jooyoung, all night by bts

a/n: i have a crush on sangyeon. he supports my daddy issues <3

sangyeon has been taking his dear sweet time with you tonight. he’s been thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a slow pace for the past 15 minutes. he’s always so nice to you; petting your hair, always giving you the princess treatment, never denying you orgasms.

he’s too nice.

today, you’ve had enough of his niceness. you’re working up the courage to just ask him to even just pick up the pace. you just don’t know how he’s going to react because you never complain about his gentleness.

“y-yeonie,” you whisper. he hums in response, looking up at you from his position; his head between your legs. you bring your finger to your mouth, nervously chewing on your nail.

“can you… be meaner to me?” he looks at you, his face a mix of shock and confusion. sangyeon? mean? to you? unheard of. he almost doesn’t know how to react to your sudden request.

“uhm… i can try,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. he wipes them clean on a tissue before tossing said tissues in the garbage can. when he comes back to hover over you, his demeanor changes completely.

he runs his pointer finger down the side of your face, faking a concerned face. he shoves his finger past your lips, your tongue immediately swirling around it. “you want me to be mean to you, slut?” he pushes his finger in your mouth farther, almost triggering your gag reflex. you nod to the best of your ability.

“okay, i’ll be mean,” he removes his finger from your mouth roughly. he grabs your head with both his hands, dragging you to the side of the bed. he makes sure your head his hanging off the end, open for use.

he just hovers around you, letting you drip on the bed and the blood rush to your head. you rub your thighs together subconsciously, desperate for friction. “please, sir, i’ll do anything,” your eyes fill with tears of desperation. he can feel his pants get tighter at the name, biting his lip.

he shimmies his pants off, tossing them to a random corner of the room. he leans down to kiss you once before lining his cock up with your mouth. “then suck,” he demands. your mouth opens almost on instinct, welcoming his length.

he shoves into your throat enough for an outline to appear, only egging him on. he sets a brutal pace in your mouth, his tip bashing the back of your throat. spit flows out of your mouth like a river, your gag reflex going haywire.

you begin crying, fully losing yourself in the moment. he doesn’t let up at this evolution. instead, it causes him to move faster. more tears and spit stain your face as he continues abusing your throat.

“fuck, baby, gonna cum. take it like a good cockslut,” the low tone of his voice sends shivers through your spine. your thighs rub together more, almost enough for you to fear them chafing.

he reaches down and plugs your nose, completely restricting your breathing. your senses explode, your eyes bulging out of your head. you writhe around on the bed, your lungs desperate for oxygen.

your throat constricts around him as you gag, triggering his orgasm. he finally releases your nose, letting you catch your breath before he wraps a hand around your neck. he releases deep down your throat. you do your best to swallow; your position makes it slightly difficult.

he pulls out immediately, rushing to get your head up and onto a pillow. “are you okay? was it too much? did i-” you wave him off and pull him to hover over you. “please, more,” you whine. he remains worried but decides to give you what you want.

he removes his tie roughy, unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt. “all fours, now,” you nod, excitedly switching positions. he grabs your arms out from in front of you, causing you to fall face first into the mattress. he ties your hands together with his tie, tight enough to keep them secure but loose enough to allow circulation.

“count, slut,” he demanded. you opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but he answered your question with a hard spank. you cry out before muttering a soft ‘one’ while trying to compose yourself.

he plunges two of his long fingers into your dripping cunt before continuing to land hard spanks on your ass. “twenty!” you cry out, tears streaming down your face, making a puddle on the sheets. sangyeon had yet to move his fingers inside you and it’s torturing you.

“please, move your fingers,” you whine. he makes a fake sad noise in your direction before giving you exactly what you asked for. he pulls his fingers out momentarily to spit on your cunt and plunge his fingers back in.

sangyeon watches as you writhe under him, your high creeping up on you with every passing moment. he feels as you clench around his fingers, your moans becoming more and more high pitched. “c-cumming-” your legs bash down onto the bed, on the verge of letting go. just as your high is about to crash into you, he pulls his fingers out, halting all your pleasure.

“fuck what is wrong with you!” you yell, your voice cracking in anger. he laughs in a sinister way, your torture amusing him. he pouts in your direction, a motion you can’t see. he shoves his fingers back into you, your lingering high coming back in full throttle.

your leg pounds on the mattress like a bunny as your high comes rushing towards you. the cord snaps and your orgasm comes gushing out of you. it covers sangyeon’s arm and the sheets behind you. you wish you could cover your face in your hands in embarrassment.

luckily for you, sangyeon makes no comment on your gushing orgasm. he moves on to remove his underwear and getting behind you. he lines himself up with your entrance, your core still sensitive. before shoving into you, he changes his mind.

he flips you over onto your back, wanting to see your face while he fucks you. it’s a little uncomfortable with your arms behind your back but you don’t complain. he pushes into you, admiring the way an outline of his cock appears in your lower abdomen.

he runs his hand over the outline, goosebumps raising on your skin. he sets a brutal pace inside you, his tip bashing against the gummy spot inside you. “god, baby. you’re such a good cocksleeve for me,” his hair falls in his face beautifully, watching how your body reacts to him.

he pounds into you for what feels like forever. orgasm after orgasm washing over you until your brain is nothing but mush. you groan lowly as another one finishes washing over you. “almost done, baby. can you take my load?” you nod, basically drooling at this point.

he uses you for only a little longer before filling you up. your body twitches as he pulls out. he reaches behind you to undo your hands. he massages your sore wrists, kissing them softly.

“did i do okay?” he asks as he gets you under your blanket and snuggles up to you. you nod, smiling. “you were perfect, yeonie, thank you,” you kiss his arm and snuggle into him more.

you fall asleep in his warm embrace, grateful for his willingness to try new things with you.

#lomlhwa #the boyz #tbz #sangyeon #lee sangyeon #the boyz smut #tbz smut #sangyeon smut #lee sangyeon smut

423 notes · View notes

8-dermestid · 19 days

Note

Hey, I'd like to request a Toby x Reader, with a story that covers the evolution of their relationship (from them meeting to becoming intimate lovers, with steamy moments, if you feel comfortable writing that kind of thing, of course) thks !

hi-hi-hi, i kind of took this idea for a bit of a joyride, i hope you enjoy this regardless of how i crashed it into a telephone pole

dirty laundry

relationships: ticci toby x reader

word count: 1.2k

links: available on ao3

warnings: scent kink, masturbation, canon-typical violence, i like my tobias like a kicked-in-the-head-dog, obsession, toby vomits

You’re fresh meat.

Toby creeps around behind you, trailing you through the non-Euclidean hallways, hyperbolic rooms that are an impossible fit within the actual shell of the manor from the outside. The few things you carried with you find homes in your new bedroom. All of your chores get done without noticing your second shadow.

Dinners, when it isn’t a fend-for-oneself type of night, have everyone in the mansion gather around a long table. Toby, whose name you learned from other people barking it at him as they shoved him aside, sits as far as he can from you (at one point, he shoved other people from their chairs to maintain his distance from you). Toby is starstruck by you, and he does not know why. When you get up to leave the table and wash up your plate, he watches you from the table, not looking away for a second.

Months and months go by, and after spending weeks trailing you and trying to understand why he’s so captivated, Toby finally gets the courage to speak to you. He’s quiet, wide-eyed, and on the verge of puking all over you, but he finally coughs up that he would like to be friends. You nod. You’re like an angel, a wonderful, merciful angel for underbelly scum like him.

After another few weeks of spending time together (where Toby wants to rip his skin off because he’s so excited to have a friend in this carved-out hole in hell), you have your first task, and Toby accompanies you. You’re chasing down a college-aged man, but he gets the bright idea of scrambling into his car and trying to run you down.

Toby pulls you away right before the hit-and-run, and you’re left panting in his too-tight grip, sweat rolling down your neck.

“Thanks.” You breathe.

It is the only quiet thing that comes out of your mouth, and Toby wants someone to carve out a place in his brain so he can keep that remark inside of him forever. Abruptly, there is a distant crash. Your catch hit a telephone pole. You beat your victim until there are brains smattered across the steering wheel. It’s the best thing Toby has ever seen.

He fingers himself that night until his clit burns.

(Deep down, at this moment, he wants you to peel him apart with a scalpel and crawl inside him. Toby would let you pull his guts out for so much as a smile. If he could crawl inside of you, it would be such an honor. He wants to surround himself with you—living, breathing, knowing everything about you.)

He feels awful as hot bile pools in his gut when he digs through your dirty laundry, your literal dirty laundry. He pulls out the shirt you wore while you were running around chasing a kill the other night and working up a sweat, the cotton steeped in your delicious sweat and grime—dirt and blood and you, you, you, you, you, you—Toby smothers himself with your bloody, dirty shirt until he’s sobbing, curled over himself like a pill bug as he holds back vomit steaming in his throat when he climaxes the seventh time into his hand. He wants to stop—he knows you’re coming home soon—but Toby can’t help himself, even though it feels worse and worse with every motion, even though he wants to puke up your smell embedded into the lining of his intestines.

He throws your shirt across the room and vomits into the corner until he curls into his bed and falls asleep.

✸ ⦻ ✸

The fragrances you wear start drying up faster than usual, and Toby stops smelling like Toby (not good, like body odor and rot). He starts using some of your hair-care products—he thinks you won’t notice, but you do. He smells like your shampoo now.

It was an accident—you forgot your fake ID and insurance in your room and had to come back for it (someone got too close but also thought they could outrun you with a car—too bad you can drive across state lines). You open the door and spot Toby hunched over your closet, panting like a dog as he digs through your laundry bin. He pulls your underwear from the pile and presses them to his nose, shuddering as he loses himself in fantasy.

You’re such a voyeur as you watch Toby’s free hand loosen his belt, fingers already digging deep to satisfy some unending craving. God, he’s howling like a beaten dog as he tumbles to the floor (smacking his head against hardwood) as he ruts against his hand.

Toby is shaking so hard you’re afraid he’s going to make himself sick, and an intense climax leaves him writhing with his back against your bed frame. He scrambles to his feet and pulls for your pillow, straddling the damn thing as he sobs into himself with a disgusted howl about it.

Just as he pulls his pants down to his ankles with a scrambled hurry so he can begin humping your pillow, Toby spots you in the doorway and freezes like you have a gun pointed between his eyes. He looks at you like a dog on the euthanasia table—or Old Yeller staring down the barrel of a gun. His diaphragm hiccups, tears roll down his cheeks thick and heavy. He’s an ugly crier—snot-nosed and loud and red-eyed until he’s dizzy—Toby pushes his hands into his sockets and scrapes his gloved palms over his eyes. He grabs a Swiss army knife to try and pull together some pathetic apology that someone as heavenly as you deserves.

He opens the blade, digging his nails between metal bits and bobs to pull out the knife, then he pushes it into your hand and then pulls your knife-wielding hands toward his belly.

“Y-You can,” Toby hiccups, sniffling as tears carve deep lines down his face, “---If you wanna. You can. I would want to if I was you.”

He keeps trying to pull your hand toward him, now trying to get you to carve out his vulva. You yank back the knife hard, losing your grip as it collides with a far wall.

He sputters and tries to cover himself (he did not think to yank his pants over his bumpy hips when he finally caught you) while trying not to puke in front of you.

“I… I’m not going to do that.”

He scrambles and tries to kick you off, dragging himself across the floor to grab the knife to try again. He begs and pleads for you to do it.

“No.” You say so flatly that he knows you mean it, and that kills him.

You keep him pinned to the floor until he quits. Toby is sobbing into his sleeve when you finally get off of him. He’s gross, he says, Gross and nasty, and he’s not quite sure why you didn’t put him down.

You don’t know why.

But, you start, if he likes you that much, he can keep the shirt—if he stops using up all your body wash. Toby sits in front of you like an obedient hound. He inhales your smell from the shirt—he’d give up cigarettes and do this for the rest of his life if he could.

Maybe one day, Toby will finally get your scent from its source. Maybe one day.

#ticci toby creepypasta #creepypasta ticci toby #ticcy toby #ticci toby #creepypasta #mecreepy #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta fanart #crp #creepypasta art #tobias erin rogers #tobias erin rogers x reader #ticci toby fanfic #crp fandom #crp fanart #toby rogers #creepypasta headcanon #creepy pasta

71 notes · View notes

hexed-padlock · 7 months

Text

“A New Type of Vampire”

AU/Headcanon where Tav was part of the party that killed Strahd.

Pairing: Hinted Astarion x Tav but mostly gen. Party & Tav

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks

Notes: A few people are mentioned, old party members of Tav: Alfvin (human wizard), Rägen (human rogue), and an unnamed Paladin.

Summary: After defeating the Orthon, Raphael upholds his end of the deal and reveals the information behind Astarion’s scars. The tale that’s unraveled reminds Tav of the mists.

————————

Yurgir put up much more of a fight than expected. Even with Karlach’s warnings, they had still been caught off guard with the Orthon’s fondness for explosives. One moment, Tav was clearing out a group of merregons, and the next they suddenly found themselves flung off an overhang with a defeaning boom. Shadowheart had to patch them up with a hasty Healing Word but couldn’t do much more as she was preoccupied with several more merregon.

Now, hours later, they were hurt and still so very sore from the whole ordeal. Shadowheart took the second most hits, while Gale was mildly scuffed up. Astarion, the bastard, somehow avoided getting hit until the end when an unexpected explosion sent him flying straight into the growling displacer beast. Needless to say, they were all happy to have that fight over with.

Tav sighed and dropped onto their bedroll with a low thud. Huntress, they’ve just about had it with fiends.

As if to spite them, the scent of sulfur began to waft through the old, stuffy air of Shar’s Gauntlet. Tav barely had a moment to clamber to their feet before a low orange glow signaled the arrival of Raphael. The rest of the party grabs their weapons as the cambion appears in a flash of brimstone and fire.

“Splendid! I should thank you for making quick work of Yurgir.” The devil was all smiles, fanged and hungry. He briefly mentioned his plans of re-educating Yurgir, which had Tav almost concerned for a moment, before swiftly turning to Astarion.

Raphael actually upholds his end of the deal and Astarion listens with rapt attention as the devil unveils what he learned. A contract, a ritual—between the Archdevil Mephistopheles and the vampire lord Cazador Szarr. Through this rite, Cazador would gain untold power and become a new type of vampire—The Vampire Ascendant. An evolution of sorts that will allow Cazador to gain untold levels of power, backed by an Archdevil of the Hells.

A dark power, a deal, and an all-powerful vampire lord, Raphael summarized.

Tav feels their hands go numb as a low ringing fills their ears. A pit forms in their stomach as a familiar fanged smile flashes through their mind.

The cambion continues speaking, Astarion giving him his full attention. Tav finds their eyes drifting over to Astarion’s and- Oh, gods. A familiar dread slowly crawl ls up their spine, the ringing growing ever louder, as Astarion’s eyes fill with fear… and hunger. Cold grips their insides and a soft caress of a familiar fog wraps around their limbs, clouds their eyes.

In an instant, Tav feels the mists around them- they wander aimlessly but there’s no way out. It’s blinding, disorienting—suffocating. A thick fog spans out in every direction, blanketing the Valley in an eternal gloom. They hear the distant howls of wolves, the eerie childish laughter, and the whispers. He was always watching, Tav knew. No matter where they went, it was never safe. It felt like a nightmare, and maybe it was—for what reality would allow such terror to exist alongside the living? All those souls lost in the pursuit of a monster’s hunger for power. Van Richten, Esmeralda-

Scenes flash through the mists, feeling all too real.

They hear The Huntress calling for them. They feel the Blood Spear echoing the land’s old magic, digging into Tav’s soul, empowering, hungering, thirsting-

They turn sharply in the mist and find a raven-haired human looking back at them, gripping onto a black dagger and clad in dark leathers. A friend. They were safe. Rägen. She was was as deaf as a rogue could be and as paranoid as a bat. Her heart was in the right place once you earn her trust. They’ve handled countless monsters together, having to rely on strangers, now family. Tav blinks and- They see her body, trapped within the amber- cold, cold, cold and alone-

“(Tav)?” … Alfvin? Alfvin. Their wizard, a brilliant arcane scholar and diabolist. A sharp mind and a trusted ally. Sharp brown eyes and black veins along the sclera, a scar running over the bridge of his nose, the familiar smell of sulfur and ash- His body hung from the gallows, the mists caressing a limp cat at his feet.

Raphael vanishes in another swirl of hellfire, descending once more into Avernus.

“Well, that was definitely something.”

Astarion’s lips feel dry as he processes the information Raphael provided. The Rite of Profane Ascension. A ritual that guarantees his death, but also untold potential. Power, freedom. He could keep himself safe, could keep Tav safe.

He expects some wry comment from Tav, but silence is all that greets him. He expected a quip or two about Raphael, maybe a seething comment about the ritual and infernal contracts- not silence.

He turns and finds the party all staring at a very much catatonic Tav. Their eyes are wide and empty, distant. They see something not there and their body shakes with subtle tremors as the air swiftly begins to cool. He flinches because it doesn’t make sense. Tav is bright and shining, someone laughs at danger and taunts fate itself. But this Tav was silent, staring but not seeing.

Astarion wants to reach out, to comfort, but the look on Tav’s face has him glued to the ground. A fear, horror, but of what?

It doesn’t take long for someone to approach Tav. Gale, sweet Gale, calls to Tav and shakes their shoulder.

—————

Someone shakes their shoulder and Tav flinches back, the tadpole responding and lashing out, overwhelmed with the sudden onslaught of memories.

Flashes of manic, chanting voices calling out. “He is the ancient, he is the land.”

A land cloaked in an eternal mist

trapped. trapped- no way out.

empty husks of people walking the streets

ravens crying out in warning

a flash- Blood red eyes, long raven hair

flames eating at a burning windmill. Ye Old Bonegrinder.

the stench of death and a lich’s grin

shadowed entities glinting within the amber that traps them

and a single man, sitting atop a throne, fangs glinting in the candlelight of Castle Ravenloft.

———

The party is flooded with flashes of memories- vivid, horrifying memories. A single name echoes above it all. Strahd.

The tadpoles grip onto the name and a final memory flashes. Strahd, astride his nightmare, plunges a black longsword through their- Tav’s- back. It’s a pain unlike any other. Shadows overwhelm them, darkness taking and taking. The Blood Spear’s tries desperately to stave off the dread plane’s magic as it takes and takes and takes.

A blinding light fills the room and Tav glances back to see a blade of radiant light pierced through Strahd’s middle. Behind him, their bloodied paladin, a Banite sent to conquer but one who’d chosen to instead save, smiles weakly.

Tav whispers, a voice unfamiliar to the party but still overwhelmingly Tav’s, “We’re free.”

They’re wretched from the visions as Tav seizes on the ground, clutching their middle the same way they had in the vision- the memory.

They blink up at the others, eyes wide, as they weakly mutter, “I can explain.”

“What in the Hells was that?!” Astarion screeches. He feels the horrible, pained cries. Sees the horror wrought by a single vampire’s will. Thousands of people, of souls, trapped in a demi-plane because of a single man’s selfish wish. He could practically taste Tav’s own fear, constant, all-consuming, as Strahd played with his new toys. Monsters clawed from the shadows as the dark gods laughed.

The whole party is shaken from the whispers in their heads.

Gale weakly pipes up. “I believe we saw some… interesting memories.” Definitely interesting. Dark magic unlike anything he’s ever seen should count as interesting.

Lae’zel hisses back, “Obviously.”

Shadowheart is silent as the memory quickly passes, echoes of a familiar shadow magic fading as the images vanish.

Wyll shudders as, for a moment, his limbs are frozen. He’s the Blade of Frontiers. He’s slain devils and monsters alike, but the power of a dread lord in his own plane was nothing like he’s experienced.

Karlach surges forward to hug Tav and moves to grab the rest of the party. There’s complaints and a lot of squirming, but they all settle into the hug.

Tav, suddenly surrounded by warmth, sobs. They’re safe.

They’ll explain another time, Tav thinks as they relax into the warmth of their party.

They all understood pain, they all shared their stories, and Tav supported them all with no judgement. They’ll wait. For now, it was time to return the favor.

(Bonus:

(Astarion very pointedly tries not to stare as the memory of sweet, darling Tav killing Strahd fills his mind. Seems like the gods finally answered his prayers.

The slayer of Strahd himself, now fighting to protect him and the rest of Faerün. His heart races at the thought and yep he’s definitely in love now.)

————————-

Hello! Sorry for taking a while to post the next reveal fic. I’m not sure how I feel about this one but it’s a scenario I had drafted up already. I tried my best bur writing really isn’t my strong suit lol.

Next fic is gonna be a lot sillier.

If anyone has some reveal ideas or prompts they have, feel free to reach out!

Tag list:

@writingmysanity @furblrwurblr

146 notes · View notes