#beast mimicry

[everykiba]

[quirkwizard]

There are some pretty horrific quirks in the series, tongue web, meatball, dupli-arms. So if you were gonna create the most horrific Nomu what quirks would you give it? More for terrorizing opponents than quirk synergy.

You know, I was always questioned if people were trying to turn me into a super villain by asking me to make Nomus. And with this one, I am certain you are trying to do that. Regardless, I will be sticking to Mid End Nomus and give a few options to give out different kinds of terrorizing.

Beast, Centipede, Steel, Tool Arms: For your more traditional horrific. While this does work fine on it's own, essentially being a giant tank with various ways to hurt people, this is basically working as the combination of every other generic horror killer. You got your giant beasts, your insectoids, your automatons, and your dudes with generic murder weapons.

Invisibility, Foldabody, Mimicry, Vitality Stealing: This one is for more subtle horror. It can be anywhere at any time, hiding inside of anything or anyone without being noticed or giving it's target a way to effectively fight back against it. You don't realize where it is until it's too late when you feel it's cold hands and it's already draining the life out of you. Maybe it was all in the target's head.

Super Regeneration, Meatball, Dupli Arms, Muscle Augmentation: This is for your eldritch horror. A mass of every changing flesh constantly splitting off and growing more extremities. Any attempts to harm it is next to futile as it's constantly shifting and healing. And if it touches you, it can mold you into horrific shapes, barely recognizable as human. It's like all the worst parts of the Thing.

[mimicry-works]

Antagony

I got the recent Legacy Inferno and started thinking about the possible repaint.

[harpylady]

im really having so much fun watching naruto

[shirecorn]

Changelings! Six legged insectoid beasts grown to the size of ponies, their target mimic species. Rather than evolving perfect physical mimicry, changeling imitation is a two-pronged process. In addition to a color-shifting carapace, magic distorts and twists the silhouette to match the mimicked subject. The spell is weaved with a rapid beating of the the wings, which creates a delicate network of invisible magic threads that tie the changeling's physical form to the projected mirage to make it move. After casting the spell, the changeling needs to recast it periodically, so if you doubt your friend's identity, listen for the buzzing of wings.

It takes a lot of concentration to keep the illusion in place, and changelings are naturally much taller than ponies when standing at their full height. Inexperienced or agitated changelings may forget to crouch, which breaks the illusion in a terrifying way. Because the features of the mirage are bound to the underlying insect body, moving wrong will distort the perceived form before it reveals what lies beneath.

The reason changeling bodies are so much longer than their target species is to allow a changeling to mimic creatures many times their size, provided they have the wingspan to reach the entire length of the target individual. A full wingspan is the sign of a healthy changeling, one that has enough magic to cast their illusions without much effort. Without sufficient magic, a changeling must constantly refresh their spell, and the ceaseless beating tears their delicate wings to shreds.

There is one changeling with enough magic to spare: The Queen. Drones store magic in their tails and bring it back to feed her. The queen of years past has been bleeding them dry and soaking up all their magic, leaving what should be a healthy reservoir in their tails as a withered pocket. This new style of ruling could possibly have started as a response to the ascension of the Goddess of Love, and the resulting magicification of feelings of romantic and platonic love.

For millennia, changelings evolved to feed on emotions directed at them (or rather the being they mimic) and convert it into magic. Positive emotions were the most stable, but any emotion worked. But when Love started to feel an entire meal, and gave the drones strength to subsist on their own, their queen demanded every drop of intoxicating love for herself, leaving them in a constant state of starvation and desperation.

Just a little love can go a long way. Changelings are forbidden from changing their colors or illusions to express themselves, as they must be seen as "mindless drones" and part of a single hive mind, despite their potential for individuality. Instead, they remain black unless imitating a pony or other creature. Each section of a changeling's carapace has a clear top layer with liquid suspended above the actual armor layer beneath. Microscopic grooves display different colors and shades based on how much of the liquid fills them, and how much pressure it's under. With the base colors set, wings spin the illusion of form to completely disguise the changeling beneath.

But what if they didn't have to save all their energy for disguises? What if there was enough love to go around?

The Changeling Revolution is an ongoing battle, but it has a hopeful, vibrant spark. Led by a mild-mannered former "drone," a growing faction are discovering peace, safety, and individuality by feeding off love directed not at illusions they cast, but to the people they truly are. It's a scary, vulnerable first step to allow others to see your true nature, but the rewards of loving and being loved are worth it.

Revolutionaries are not "reformed" so much as healed by embracing individual love. It turns out when each changeling allows themself to have their own color, preferences, and name, then the love felt from one changeling to another can be converted into magic, and a hive can become a thriving ecosystem within itself.

Nymphs, once destined for a viscous cycle of deception and starvation, are now able to bask in love given to them by hivemates, and they grow up stronger and kinder than any generation before. Though they can only shift into pastel colors until their carapace fully hardens and darkens, they still express by choosing their own look, name, and destiny.

The healing of the changeling population is as varied as their prismatic colors, and as beautiful as their glittering wings.

[wanderingsorcerer]

APPALACHIAN FOLKLORE 101

Appalachia has a rich history in the united states, which goes farther back than most tend to give it credit for. The Appalachian mountains are millions of years old, and humans have only lived in the region for 16,000 years or so, which means the mountains are bound to hold some mysteries and legends.

Many of these stories, and folk practices originate from the Native Americans, specifically Cherokee, and are mixed in with the superstitions brought over from the old world specifically English, Irish, and Scottish. As well as the practices brought over from the African Continent During the Slave Trade. The Native population assisted the early settlers in Appalachia with ways to survive the area, grow food, and even forage for one of Appalachia's staple foods, RAMPS!!!

Let's delve into the history of Appalachian Folklore and the origins of everyone's favorite stories.

Cryptids and Myths

This is one of the most famous aspects of Appalachian folklore and one which outsiders know the most about, Appalachian Myths and their Cryptids that follow. Below I will go over a few of the more famous ones, which many have learned about, either second-hand or through living in the area.

The Moon-Eyed People

There was a group of humanoids called the Moon-Eyed People, who were short, bearded, and had pale skin with large, bright eyes. They were completely nocturnal due to their eyes being extremely sensitive to light. Although not mythical, they were considered a separate race of people by some. The tribes viewed them as a threat and forced them out of their caves on a full moon night. They were said to have scattered to other parts of Appalachia as the moon’s light was too bright for their eyes. There are some early structures that are believed to be related to the Moon-Eyed People, dating back to 400 BCE. Some theories suggest that they were early European settlers who arrived much before Columbus discovered the Americas. Other theories suggest they were people who had Albanism.

Image of The Moon Eyed People Statues in Murphy, North Carolina

Spearfinger

Spearfinger is a Cherokee legend of a shapeshifting, stone-skinned witch with a long knife in place of one of her fingers. She often was described as an old woman, which she would take the form of to convince Cherokee children that she was their grandmother. She would sit with them, brush their hair until they fell asleep, and then kill them with her “spear finger.” She had a love of human livers which she would extract from the bodies of those she killed. It was said she left no visible scars on her victims. She carried her own heart in her hand to protect it, as it was her one weakness. As the legend goes, she was captured and defeated with the help of several birds that carried the information to defeat her. Though she has been destroyed, sometimes you can hear her cackles and songs throughout the mountains. 

Image of SpearFinger Cherokee Legend

W*ndigo

This spirit is said to go to where its name is called allowed so since most of us already know the name I won't be writing it out in completion. So out of respect for some of our native readers, it will remain censored

The W*ndigo is a creature, sometimes referred to as an evil spirit, that is said to be 15 feet tall with a body that is thin, with skin pulled so tight that its bones are visible. Many native legends view it as a spirit of greed, gluttony, and insatiable hunger. It is a flesh-eating beast that is considered most active during the colder months, and its presence is easily felt and smelt. It has been described as having a distinct smell of rot and decay due to its skin being ripped and unclean. It produces an overwhelming urge of greed and insatiable want. Most notably, it is not one to chase or seek after its prey; instead, it uses its terrifying mimicry skill. It often mimics human voices, screams, loved ones, or anything that might entice its victim to come to it. In some cases, it is believed the W*ndigo is a spirit that can possess other humans and fill them with greed and selfishness, turning them into W*ndigos as well.  

Appalachian Folk Practices

Many of the common Appalachian folk practices stem from things the Native Americans and Enslaved Africans taught them mixed in with cultural practices from Europe. Here I will go over some of the most common practices done by the Appalachian people

Water Dowsing

water dowsing is a practice that has been done for hundreds of years in many different cultures. This practice was brought over by the European settlers and was how many people of the time found where to dig for their water. The practice itself is simple in nature, you take a forked branch from a tree and hold it in both hands and walk around once the stick points down due to the electromagnetic current that's where you dig your well.

this isn't exactly the best way to find water but many people still do it to this day.

Image of Someone Using A Dowsing Rod

Bottle Trees

This practice originated in the Congo area of Africa, in the 9th century A.D. brought to America by the slave trade, in the 17th century. Bottle Trees, were popular in the American South and up into Appalachia, the spirits are said to be attracted to the blue color of the bottles, and captured at night, then when the sun rises it destroys the evil spirits.

This is still practiced in the modern era by many Appalachian Folk Practitioners

Image Of Bottle Trees

SIN EATING

This practice originates from the Ancient Greeks and Egyptians, it branched to many different cultures and has been practiced since antiquity by many Christian and Catholic tribes. And later making its way to America via immigration. The process was once a profession in Appalachia, in which food was placed on or near the deceased and a person dressed in all black would eat the food absolving the dead of all of their earthly sins. This essentially cemented their ability to get into heaven. The practice while sparsely done any more as a profession, it can still be found in many peoples funeral services to this day around the world.

Many cultures still do this practice and the sin eaters usually choose to hide their identity as the practice is seen as taboo to this day.

Popular Herbs To Forage In Appalachia Folk Practices

Wild Leeks or RAMPS!!!

Allium tricoccum, are a species of wild onion native to North America. They are a delicacy, and hold a special place in the hearts of many Appalachians. Native Americans such as the Cherokee ate the plant and used it medicinally for a variety of purposes including as a spring tonic. Early European settlers learned how to Forage from the Indigenous People and continued to eat and use ramps medicinally. Ramps provide many nutrients and minerals and historically have been used to nourish people after harsh winters.

*RAMPS poisoness Look Alike

False hellebore (Veratrum) is a highly poisonous plant that can be mistaken for a prized wild edible, the wild leek, or ramp (Allium tricoccum)

Chicken of the Woods

Laetiporus sulphureus. Chicken of the woods is a sulphur-yellow bracket fungus of trees in woods, parks and gardens. They are delicious and are loved by many foragers, Native Americans, and Appalachians alike. The Native Americans taught the early settlers that these were edible and have been a favorite ever since. Chicken of the Woods is most likely to be found from August through October, but it can be found as early as May and up to December depending on where you live.

*These have a poisoness look alike, Jack O Lantern mushrooms

The Jack-o'-lantern mushroom should not be eaten because it is poisonous to humans. It contains toxic chemicals that can cause severe stomach upset accompanied by vomiting, diarrhea and headache

PawPaws

The Pawpaw Asimina triloba, is well loved by Appalachian locals as a native fruit with a tropical taste. Pawpaw fruit is the largest tree fruit native to the United States, and its custard-like flesh has been said to taste like a combination of banana, pineapple, and Mango. The pawpaw has been used by Native Americans for centuries for both its fruit and its medicinal properties. Many tribes, including the Osage and Sioux, ate the fruit; the Iroquois used the mashed fruit to make small dried cakes to reconstitute later for cooking. PawPaw season is late summer, look for the smell of rotting fruit, eat the ones that are squishy to the touch.

*They resemble mangos on the trees, many options to eat the ones that are on the floor already as they usually have ripened, but you can also ripen them at home.

Appalachia has a rich and beautiful history filled with magic and delicious food. But the only real way to learn about Appalachia is to visit it. Go and speak with locals, learn about the history, their delicious foods, and powerful Grandma magic, and you too will fall in love with Appalachia.

Thank you for sitting down and having Tea with me on the Other side of the Great Divide

[sadoeuphemist]

If in danger of being captured, the Cuarrion will take on the appearance of its last victim, assuming it has already consumed enough of their body to facilitate the transformation. It will speak with its victim's tongue, show recognition in their eyes, throw wide their arms in embrace and cry out with all their heart, having been rescued naked and quivering from the beast's den.

Thus discovered, the Cuarrion will allow itself to be led back to civilization to be embraced and wept over and tended to, steadily convalescing, wearing its victim's footsteps to trace out their old habits. As the attentiveness of its companions wanes, the Cuarrion will take the first opportunity to escape back into the wild, taking on its true form again, usually claiming another victim along the way.

If, however, the Cuarrion is kept under constant scrutiny, it will find no opportunity to revert and instead will settle deeper and deeper into its disguise. It no longer needs to hunt: it bears its victim's stomach and intestines and so can subsist happily on their diet. The gestures of familiarity, rather than being second nature to it, will simply become its nature. There are stories of Cuarrion who have lived for decades in the same village, borne children, presided over local festivals, lived to bounce hosts of grandchildren on their knee, been interred in the village cemetery with all the honors befitting an elder of their repute.

There are also stories of Cuarrion who, after decades of peaceful cohabitation, have reverted to their monstrous natures for seemingly no reason at all. When a reason can be located, it is usually some sort of violent shock to the self: a stroke, an assault, an infidelity, the death of a loved one, the uncovering of another Cuarrion.

The ethics of keeping a Cuarrion in captivity are hotly debated. It is difficult to blame the family of a child slain by the Cuarrion, who, having recovered a child in the exact image of theirs, calling out familiar names in a familiar tongue, miraculously alive and whole, will insist on treating it exactly as their child.

Scholars of the Cuarrion's anatomy maintain that even if some vital portion of the victim remains within the beast, it will be inevitably digested over time, as evidenced by the fact that victims who have gone missing weeks prior are found gibbering and semi-feral and must be rehabilitated back into their previous states, if ever; whereas a victim who has gone missing just that day will be found talkative and spry and seemingly unharmed. If the Cuarrion can copy a person identically, the scholars say, it is only through habit and mimicry, blood congealing into the shape of its mold.

If the Cuarrion themselves are asked for input, opinions vary. Most are circumspect. Many prefer not to discuss it at all. The elders among them, who have lived out their lives, tend to speak more freely. "Yes, I consumed the child I was to become who I am, a long time ago, a long time ago," says one, eyes clouded and distant, remembering. "A tragedy, yes. But, eh, so do we all."

[everykiba]

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: alligator snapping turtle

This will be a shorter WBW than usual, as I forgot to prep a post in advance and am writing this on short notice. Today's topic is the alligator snapping turtle, a beast from the bayou almost looks like a dinosaur. Macrochelys temminckii is the only member of its genus and, along with the three members of the genus Chelydra, is one of the four living snapping turtle species. Some scientists suggest splitting it into three species, but this is still a matter of debate. Snapping turtles are large, predatory turtles known for their very sharp beaks, extreme bite forces, and alleged aggressiveness.

(Image ID: an alligator snapping turtle sitting on gravel. It is a large, brown turtle. Its shall has three spiked ridged running down it. The head is large and angular, with a very sharp beak. It has small, brown eyes. Its mouth is open in a threat display. End ID)

The alligator snapping turtle is one of the largest freshwater turtles in the world, surpassed only by a few species of rare Asian softshells. The alligator snapping turtle can be distinguished from the common snapping turtle, whose range overlaps with that of the alligator snapping turtle, by the three spiky ridges going down its shell. These ridges, along with its powerful jaws, are often compared to those of an alligator, hence the common name. The turtles grow through their entire lives and can reach truly huge sizes. In the wild, adult males (who are larger than females) range between 35 and 80.8 cm (13.8 to 31.8 in) in caprapace (top shell) length and weigh between 8.4 and 80 kg (19 to 176 lbs). Sometimes, a true giant will be found, usually an old male. Reported weights of giant males include 113, 107, and 135 kg (249, 236, 298 lbs). The tail is longer and thicker than in most turtles. The head is large and thick and can deliver bites with a force averaging 159 newtons. This is less than the bite force of the common snapping turtle, but still enough to bite someone's finger off. The inside of the mouth is brownish and the tongue has an appendage that looks like a worm on it. Unlike most turtles, the alligator snapping turtle cannot withdraw into its shell. The plastron (lower shell) covers less of the body than in most species and cannot cover retracted limbs, heads, or tails.

(Image ID: a close-up of the head of an alligator snapping turtle with its mouth open. The tongue is visible, which has a pink, fleshy appendage that looks like a worm. End ID)

Alligator snapping turtles live in the southeast USA in rovers, streams, and lakes, preferably with deep water. They spend most of their lives in the water, only leaving if in search of a new home or when laying eggs. They are nocturnal, but may still hunt during the day. The turtles are passive ambush predators who sit perfectly still with their mouths open and tongues exposed. The worm-like appendage on the tongue is used to attract prey, which the turtle will bite down on quickly and with extreme force. This is a form of aggressive mimicry. You may be wondering what they eat and the answer is just about anything. Fish, amphibians, and snails appear to be the most common prey, but they will also feed on crayfish, insects, snakes, worms, birds, small mammals, other turtles, and even small alligators. Basically if it can fit in the turtle's mouth, it will be eaten. While not active predators, they will dig up burrows in search of food. They also feed on carrion and will sometimes eat aquatic plants. A turtle can go 50 minutes between breaths and they sit still so much that most individuals will have a thick layer of algae growing on their shells. The algae helps them camouflage as rocks when not moving. Fishermen tales often say that alligator snapping turtles can depopulate all of the fish in a body of water, but this does not appear to be true. Adult alligator snapping turtles have no natural predators while juveniles are eaten by fish, birds, raccoons, and other snapping turtles.

(Image ID: an alligator snapping turtle underwater in an aquarium. Picture from the Smithsonian's National Zoo and Conservation Biology Institute. End ID)

Mating takes place in spring, earlier in the season in more southern climates. Laying takes place around two months later. The females will leave the water and travel around 50 meters inland. The distance is to prevent the eggs from being flooded, which would kill them. She will build a nest in sandy soil and bury the eggs. No further care is provided. Clutches consist of between 8 and 60 eggs at a time. After 100-140 days, the eggs hatch. The hatchlings are fully independent and must make their own way in life. The sex of the hatchlings is determined by the temperature of the soil they are incubated in. Soil of 29-30 degrees C (84.2 to 86 F) results in primarily females, 25 to 27 C (77 to 80.6 F), results in primarily males, and anything in between results in a mix. Individuals become sexually mature after about 11-12 years. The maximum lifespan of wild turtles is unknown, but individuals in captivity can live over a century.

(Image ID: two baby alligator snapping turtles held in a person's hand. They are smaller than the person's palm, but otherwise look no different than the adults. One is on its back, displaying the small plastron. End ID)

(Image ID: alligator snapping turtles hatching in captivity. The eggs are small white spheres that look like ping-pong balls. The number 19 has been written on them in what appears to be sharpie. Several of the eggs have already hatched. In the middle of the picture, a turtle is pertially emerged from its egg. End ID

Alligator snapping turtles are classified as vulnerable by the IUCN. Their primary threat is habitat loss as wetlands are drained and dammed. They are also hunted and used as food by humans. This is common enough that some states have had to pass laws protecting the turtles. Despite being characterized as aggressive, alligator snapping turtles rarely attack humans and only in self-defense. Because they cannot retract into their shells, the turtles defend themselves by facing a potential threat with their mouths open as a warning. This has furthered its reputation as an aggressive animal. Because the turtles take so long to reproduce, restoring populations is a very slow process. Alligator snapping turtles are sometimes used as pets, though they need expert care due to their sheer size and the potential danger of handling them. Use in the pet trade has resulted in the turtles being introduced outside of their native range. They have become an invasive species on some places, notably in southern Africa.

(Image ID: an alligator snapping turtle next to a human man. The human is holding it up by the front of the shell to show its size. End ID)

[bg-brainrot]

As @cosmicchocomuffin suggested!

Which class/subclass each BG3 character would play in D&D (with a little explanation):

Astarion: Draconic Sorcerer - he would pick a character that comes with power innately, no god, no pact, no strings attached, and he would pick draconic for the eventual flight. Also he would want a high Cha character so that he can attempt to be the face of the party.

Gale: Artillerist Artificer - he would pick another Int based class of course, and, as for Artillerist, he still enjoys being useful, so he'd like the fire power this subclass affords. He would take time every day to ensure his infusions are prepared for the day, not allowing the party to proceed without them.

Karlach: Circle of the Moon Druid - she loves animals and nature and would love to transform into them, but wouldn't want to deal with all of those pesky spells, hence the Circle of the Moon. She would definitely be the cause of half of the chaotic druid wildshape memes online.

Lae'zel: Way of the Astral Self Monk - she would pick monk because they're respected martial warriors, pick the subclass because of its potential to reach enlightenment. But to the surprise of no one, she actually gets really into her character to the point of drawing a blade on the DM (Withers).

Shadowheart: Assassin Rogue - the classic lone wolf class and given all of her Sharran training, she would pick this subclass for the ease of roleplay it offers, with its disguise and mimicry. She starts out aloof, but quickly divulges the entire 12-page backstory she created for her character.

Wyll: Monster Slayer Ranger - he heard people looked down on rangers and decided to give them a chance, then he saw Monster Slayer was an option and knew he picked right. The actual face of the party, simply because he's the only one capable of staying on track-- however, put him in front of a cool monster and you've lost him too.

Non-Origins:

Halsin: Nature Domain Cleric - as someone who loves to help others, he would pick a class with a greater lean to the healing side of magic and with a bit of the same druid utility, then pick the subclass to still have that connection to nature. He will happily go along with whatever the party wants to do, and has ended up in jail a few times for it.

Minthara: Order of the Profane Soul Blood Hunter - she would love a class that's willing to go to any extent to defeat their enemies, like a blood hunter, and the order of the Profane Soul just cranks that up all the more. She would be the classic murder hobo of the group if left unchecked, but she will back off when the rewards are good enough.

Jaheira: Battle Master Fighter - she would go for a classic, reliable class like fighter, with a subclass that utilizes her battle knowledge like Battle Master. She is definitely a guest player, who the DM taps in for a difficult boss fight or arc, so she somehow still ends up the mentor figure in the game.

Minsc: Path of the Beast Barbarian - he wouldn't play something too complicated, hence the Barbarian, and he would love to understand Boo better, so he'd pick the subclass for the Beast abilities that come with this subclass. He would never quite know what he's doing, but makes the best accidental one liners at the table so no one minds helping.

Disclaimer: I only picked stuff I at least have the sourcebooks for. While some extra stuff looked cool, I wasn't familiar enough to get the vibes properly.

[sky-kiss]

You want a sinning prompt, ill give you a sinning prompt *cough*Ascendedform!usingyoutomakBloodofRaphaeltieflings*cough*

A/n: /checks the time Ok. It’s sin o’clock. I'm hiding everything under the cut. Because it's...well. You know.

___________

Ascended!Raphael x Reader 18+: Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of your actions.

___________

"Look at you," Haarlep breathes the words against your ear, nose tweaked against your cheek. There's a scrape of teeth, and you shiver, screwing your eyes shut against the sensation. Sensitive, so sensitive. Every nerve in your body feels alive. They lick across to the corner of your mouth, turning your head to kiss you deeply. The incubus' tail curls around your thigh, urging your legs to fall apart for him. Fingers circle your clit, a lazy series of strokes meant to build you higher but never break. He chuckles, a mimicry of affection, as he kisses you again. "Such a pretty mess you make. Even Raphael couldn't fault my work."  

You gasp, head lolling back against their shoulder. His right arm is a vice holding you back against his chest. The warmth of them helps. Haarlep smells like summer fires and vetiver, fresh and burning; it suits them. You're burning. 

Their fingers dip lower, pressing into you and scissoring. You whimper, and Haarlep swallows the sound, pushes their tongue into your mouth, and makes you taste, drink, and welcome him. The fever is almost unbearable. The incubus has stretched and stretched you. All you feel is empty.

"Good girl," they coo. Haarlep wipes your slick on your thigh. They smile against your skin. "So good for us. So ready. Say it, sweetling. Say you're ready." 

"Please."

"Ah, ah, that," they nip the tip of your nose, "was not what I asked: are you ready, pet?" 

"I'm ready. Gods, please!" 

"Oh, darling," he shifts, dragging fingers down your sternum, your belly, down to the apex of your thighs. "After tonight, not one of your gods will have you. All ours. Always." Haarlep hums, leaning their head against yours. "Isn't that right, Raphael?" 

Raphael waits, kneeling. The ascended fiend tilts its head to the side, tongue lolling from the center mouth. Its eyes burn with animal intelligence; part of it is weighing Haarlep's words, tasting them. Its wings fan out to the side, brushing the tile, braced for stability. The clawed hands rest on either side of the pair of you. 

The beast noses your chest. Scents you. And purrs. You groan, shifting back against Haarlep, lifting your hips. 

How lovely you'll look, he'd said, as conversational as he might have been over brunch, full of my seed. That's what you want, yes? To be good for me? Serve me? 

You wanted it more than your next breath. The fiend tastes you first, its growl vibrating through your body. The heat makes you shift, panting, glancing over your shoulder for help. The flat of its tongue covers the whole of your cunt with flat pressure, warm and wet; Haarlep leads you in a lazy rock, cock still pressed against your ass. You clench at his thighs, searching for purchase, anything, as the fiend works itself up. The more it laps at you, the wetter you get. The better you taste. The more it wants. Up, and up, and up, and there has to be a breaking point, there has to be a ceiling, there has to, has to, has to…

Your back bows, thrusting into the creature's touch. There is enough of Raphael in there to delight in this naked affectation, and it howls its pleasure, tongue pressing inside your clenching hole. It's being filled with heat, stretched, and you can't help but fuck yourself onto it, welcoming more. You want him. You wish you could put into words how badly you want him. 

You're lucky, you know, he'd breathed the words against your lips, skirt rucked up around your hips. His hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he thrusts into you. I've chosen you, little mouse. My treasure…what pretty spawn you'll give me.

And, oh, it's too much. Too much, the head of its cock pressed to your soppy cunt. Haarlep spreads your legs wider, angles you, purring filth in your ear until you're grinding down, desperate. They want to see you speared on him, want to listen to you babble, want to watch you come and come. Raphael pushes, and you jolt, feeling your body finally relent. 

You could never take all of him, but you take enough. It lowers its head, licks your cheek, and howls. It fucks without grace or concern, pulling you where it wants, its head thrown back, taking. In the back of your mind, you're vaguely aware of Haarlep laughing, lifting your hips just enough to let the fiend slide deeper. Air is an afterthought. You're screaming, and it's sharp, everything: the heat, the pain, the pleasure. Sweat tracks down your body in lazy rivulets. You're coming apart, but your body won't stop. It's rocking with him, hungry. One of the fiend's hands snakes around your waist, jerking you away from the incubus and into it. 

You belong to Raphael, his, his, and you shake, one hand tangling in your hair, one reaching out for Haarlep. He leans over you and kisses you just long enough to leave a fresh swell of intoxicating pleasure rocketing through your system. And then leaves you to the fiend. 

You lose track. You're exhausted. It flips you onto your front, up on your knees, filling you again. You ache, but it's good. Its folded over you, panting, screaming, and you break again, clutching at its cock. And when Raphael finally comes, you want to sob; forehead pillowed on your arms—filled with him, full of him. Its spend drips down your thighs. 

Fingers, oddly gently, card over your lower back and thighs. Raphael, your Raphael, leans over you, pressing a kiss to the small of your back. He gathers his seed with a chuckle, pushing it back into your cunt. You moan. 

"Look at you," he mumbles. "So beautiful. Eternally mine." 

[pxnsneverland]

Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 7)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 2838

warnings/notes: blood, murder, pain

Chapter 7: The Breaking Chains

Austin stood motionless as the shelter door slammed shut, the echo reverberating through the concrete walls. Victor's smirk and knowing words clung to him like the chill of the night air.

"He knows," Austin thought, jaw clenched. The secret he had fought so hard to protect now lay exposed under Victor's cunning gaze.

Bonnie's snarls permeated the tense silence, her wolf form still straining against the chains. Austin's eyes lingered on her a moment longer, taking in the wild fury that had replaced the gentle empathy he loved. She would come back to him, he knew this - but for now the beast ruled her mind.

With a reserved exhale, Austin turned to face Victor. His piercing eyes narrowed, ice-blue shards that cut through the dim lighting. This was an unforeseen complication, one he'd have to handle with care.

Victor's lips curled into a grotesque mimicry of a smile, his eyes alight with the kind of manic glee that sent shivers down one's spine. He circled around Austin like a shark scenting blood in the water, relishing the power he now wielded with the knowledge of a secret so destructive it could topple the alpha from his throne.

"Never thought I'd see the day," Victor taunted, his voice laced with venomous delight. "The great Austin Butler brought to his knees by a ghost. Oh, I almost wished Bonnie had stayed dead—or at least kept herself hidden away in whatever grave she crawled out of."

Austin's jaw clenched tight enough to crush stone, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The air between them crackled with tension, an invisible current charged by the looming full moon and the weight of unsaid threats.

"Careful, Viper," Austin growled lowly, the threat evident in his voice, though his words remained unspoken. "Some secrets are best left buried."

"Or what?" Victor stepped closer, his sneer deepening. "You'll unleash the big bad wolf? Please."

He danced just outside of Austin's reach, every word a sharpened dagger meant to provoke, to pierce through the cracks in Austin's carefully constructed armor.

"Bonnie Barlow, alive..." Victor mused aloud as if savoring the taste of each syllable. "The deserter, the weak link, your—what shall we call her? Your Achilles' heel?"

"Watch your mouth," Austin warned, his tone a low rumble of brewing storm clouds, a prelude to the violence he was capable of unleashing.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?" Victor’s eyes gleamed with malice. "This is rich, really. Little Bonnie, back from the dead, and here you are, ready to throw it all away for her. What would the pack say?"

"Enough," Austin snapped, struggling to rein in the fury that threatened to spill over.

"Or you'll what, Austin?" Victor prodded, stepping dangerously close, within striking distance. "Lose control? Is she worth that much to you?"

"More than you could ever understand," Austin hissed, the muscles along his jaw working furiously. His piercing eyes, usually so steady and commanding, now blazed with an intensity that could set the world ablaze.

Victor's laughter sliced through the tension, a discordant note that spoke volumes of his disdain. "Is that supposed to scare me? Come on, Alpha. Show me what you're made of."

"Remember this moment," Austin said, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of an unsheathed sword. "It'll be your last mistake."

The lunar brilliance seemed to ignite an inner fire within him, casting a wild light in his eyes that danced like flames licking at dry timber. With each breath, Austin's chest heaved, betraying the effort it took to keep the beast within at bay.

"Listen to me very carefully," Austin began, his voice low and deadly, the words slipping between clenched teeth. "You will bury what you think you know deep down. Bury it so far it never claws its way out."

Victor, unfazed by the palpable danger emanating from Austin, cocked his head to the side, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He leaned in, feigning a conspiratorial whisper. "Or what, Austin? You'll tear me apart? Right here, right now?"

Austin's hands curled into fists, knuckles whitening as if they were stones meant for crushing. His body vibrated with suppressed rage, the call of the moon exacerbating his struggle for control.

"Always the protector," Victor sneered, undeterred by Austin's looming threat. "But let's ponder this, shall we? Is a deserter worth the throne of the Alpha?"

"Enough!" Austin's voice thundered, echoing off the walls, a clear warning of the tempest gathering force within him. "Your life hangs by a thread. And I won't hesitate to sever it."

Bonnie's body thrashed violently, her wolf form a blur of sinew and fury. The chains that bound her rattled against the concrete wall with each ferocious jerk, the metal links screeching in protest. Neither Austin nor Victor noticed the subtle give in the ancient stone, the way fine dust whispered to the floor with each movement, portending the imminent rupture of her restraints.

"Even if I wanted to," Austin said, the words ripping from his throat like the snarl of an animal cornered, "I couldn't abandon her." His gaze never left Victor, but the intensity of his declaration seemed to stretch, to reach beyond the confrontation and envelop Bonnie in a silent vow.

Victor paused, his eyes flicking between Austin's rigid stance and Bonnie's frenetic struggle. "Your mate?" he echoed, the notion so incredulous it drew a half-laugh from him, a sound devoid of any true humor. "You bind yourself to a deserter, and you expect me to believe she is your destined other half?"

The muscle in Austin's jaw ticked as he suppressed the urge to lunge, his voice low and edged with ice. "Believe what you will, Victor. Cross me on this, and you'll find yourself prey to consequences you can't begin to fathom."

"Consequences," Victor scoffed, yet there was a glint of something sharp and calculating in his eyes. "I suppose we all have our chains to bear, don't we, Alpha? Or should I say, former Alpha?"

Austin's hands clenched, but his posture remained controlled, a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He could feel the pull of the full moon coursing through his veins, urging him towards violence, but it was the bond—the unyielding connection to Bonnie—that held him rooted in place.

In the background, the metal clink of the chains grew more erratic, more desperate. The wall shuddered with Bonnie's relentless attempts at freedom, the cracks around the anchor points widening, nearly imperceptible to the human eye, but a silent testament to the inevitable.

Victor's laughter echoed through the cavernous space, each chortle a sharp jab at Austin's resolve. "You cling to fairytales, Butler? I would've expected more from you."

Austin's piercing eyes began to shimmer with an otherworldly light, a clear sign of his barely contained fury. "Think whatever you like," Austin growled, his voice laced with a dangerous promise. "Lay a finger on her, and I swear, Victor, your end will come at my hands."

The air around them seemed to crackle with tension, the unseen energy of the supernatural world colliding with the gritty reality of their human forms. Bonnie's whimpers blended with the sound of weakening metal, a haunting melody to the standoff unfolding before her.

Victor's smirk was a slashed canvas of hubris, carved across his face as he squared his stance. "So be it," he hissed, the words slithering out like a challenge long-awaited. Muscles coiled beneath his skin, he launched himself at Austin, a viper striking in lethal silence.

But fate, it seemed, had a taste for irony. Just as Victor's shadow loomed over Austin, poised to eclipse him in combat, an audible snap cracked through the tension-laden air. Metal links once bound to stone now surrendered to ferocity incarnate. Bonnie, her form a blur of primal instinct, surged forward with a force that spelled retribution.

The impact was a symphony of snarls and flesh, a dance macabre choreographed by the wild heart of a wolf scorned. Bonnie, driven by raw survival, became the storm, the embodiment of nature's unchecked wrath as she collided with Victor. Her jaws found their mark again and again, the symphony reaching its crescendo as Victor's calculated bravado crumbled into cries lost within the cacophony of the struggle.

Austin stood, the alpha within him stirring, witnessing the untamed justice that unfolded before his eyes. Bonnie's ferocity was a testament to her strength, and yet in every movement, every desperate thrash from Victor, Austin saw the unspoken bond that tethered him to her—a bond that defied the very logic of their brutal world.

The scent of blood and fury filled the air as Bonnie, a tempest of fangs and claws, unleashed the full measure of her newly awakened power. Victor's taunts were silenced by the guttural snarls ripping from her throat, each snap of her jaws a sentence of retribution upon his flesh.

Victor's voice was shrill with panic, his words gurgling through the torrent of his own blood. He thrashed beneath her, his attempts at defense pitiful against the onslaught. Bonnie’s teeth, like daggers honed by nature's hand, sank deep into the sinew of Victor's arm, tearing through muscle and bone with the ease of a hot knife through butter. A symphony of cracks and wet rends accompanied the visceral chorus as she bit down again, her primal instincts dictating the dance of death. Victor's screams became a ragged litany of pain, the sound of his agony mingling with the thud of his body against the unforgiving ground. His fingers clawed at the floor, seeking purchase, seeking escape, but there was none to be found.

"Bonnie, enough!" Austin's command cut through the frenzy, but it was the thunderous growl that followed which stilled the bloodbath. It was a growl that spoke of ancient authority, that resonated with the primordial essence of the alpha wolf.

In an instant, the dynamics of power shifted. Bonnie's ears flattened against her skull, a whine escaping her as she backed away, eyes downcast. She slunk to the corner, her form shrinking under the weight of Austin's dominance. Her once ferocious energy now tempered, subdued by the spectral chain of hierarchy stronger than any forged by man.

Austin stood over Victor, breaths coming in heavy torrents, the beast within him pacing behind the bars of his human restraint. And though the alpha had roared, it was silence that fell upon the scene—a silence punctuated only by the labored breaths of the living and the soft whimpers of the subdued.

Austin's chest heaved, the rush of the fight still surging through his veins as he fought to cage the alpha wolf within. His nostrils flared, taking in the coppery scent of blood that now painted the derelict shelter with its grim strokes. The air was thick with it, a visceral reminder of the violence that had just unfolded.

"Bonnie," Austin's voice was a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the ragged gasps that filled the room. He dared not look at her yet, not until he had fully reined in the beast clawing beneath his skin, begging for further release.

A shudder rippled through him, a final struggle before the beast acquiesced, retreating into the recesses of his soul. With every fiber of his being pulsating from the exertion, Austin turned slowly, his gaze falling upon the ruin that lay before him.

The sight that greeted him was grotesque—a tableau of carnage. Victor's body, or what remained of it, was a mangled mess of torn flesh and exposed bone. The once slicked-back hair was now plastered with blood, the silver tongue silenced forever amidst the garish red.

"Damn you, Vic," Austin muttered under his breath, a complex swirl of emotions churning within him—anger, sorrow, regret. He knew this moment would leave a permanent scar on the fabric of the pack, an indelible mark on his own soul.

"Should have listened," he continued, speaking to the lifeless form as if expecting some semblance of a response. "Should've known better than to corner a wolf."

He took a step closer, his boots sticking slightly to the pooling blood beneath him. Victor's eyes were vacant, a stark contrast to the maniacal glint they'd held just moments ago—a glint that had sealed his fate.

"Could've been different, brother," Austin said, the words catching in his throat. It was a title he had once bestowed upon Victor, one of kinship within the ranks of their kind. But that bond had been severed, cleaved apart by greed and ambition.

He turned away, unable to stomach the sight any longer. The silence seemed to swallow him whole, leaving a bitter aftertaste of the chaos that had reigned. This was the harsh law of their world—the unforgiving nature of pack life where only the strongest survived.

The stillness of the bomb shelter was oppressive, the silence a stark contrast to the chaos that had reigned moments before. Austin's breath came out in heavy gusts as he turned back to Bonnie, her delicate form lying crumpled on the cold concrete floor. Moonlight streamed through the narrow windows, casting an ethereal glow over her body, revealing the crimson stains marring her hands and mouth—the damning evidence of her violent passage into their world.

"Bonnie," Austin murmured, his voice a low rumble filled with a cocktail of emotions. He knelt beside her, his large, calloused fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her peaceful face. The sight of her like this—so vulnerable yet so inherently powerful—sent a twinge of protectiveness coursing through him.

He reached out, hesitating for just a fraction of a second, before gently scooping her into his arms. The warmth of her against his chest stirred something deep within him, but it was quickly overshadowed by the weight of the responsibility now resting on his broad shoulders.

Austin's jaw clenched at the thought of dealing with the fallout. Victor's ambition had been his downfall, but the consequences were now Austin's to bear. He'd have to move fast, cover the tracks, make the death look like another casualty of the gang wars that ravaged the streets above. But first, there was the matter of Bonnie and the truth she would have to face when she awoke.

"Can't hide this from you, Bon. Not this," he whispered, though he knew she couldn't hear him. His heart twisted at the thought of her eyes—those deep pools of innocence—looking up at him in horror when she realized what her claws had done. The confession loomed over him like a specter, a truth too gruesome for words, yet one that could not be kept in shadows forever.

"Should've protected you better," he continued, his voice thick with regret. The burden of leadership weighed heavily upon him; the knowledge that he had allowed her to be thrust into this dark reality pained him more than any physical wound ever could.

With a last lingering look at Victor's body, Austin adjusted Bonnie's light frame in his arms and moved toward the exit. The shelter, once a place of safety, now felt like a tomb—one he was all too eager to leave behind. As he stepped out into the night, the cool air hit his face, and he steeled himself for the journey ahead. There were miles to cover before they reached the sanctuary of his cabin—a place where he could shield her, if only for a little while, from the monstrous truth of her new existence.

His eyes roved over her features, searching for the girl he knew before the beast had awakened within her. She seemed peaceful now, a deceptive tranquility that belied the violence of her transformation. He allowed himself a small, pained smile. The torment that had racked her body, causing bones to break and reforge, was finally at an end. She was light in his arms, her head lolling against his chest as if seeking the comfort she was unconscious of needing.

The forest stood sentinel around him, an audience to the drama that unfolded under its watchful boughs. Austin moved with purpose, each step carrying Bonnie further from the horrors of her first transformation and closer to the sanctuary of his cabin.

"Sleep now, Bonnie," he promised into the silence, "I've got you."

The woods opened up to a narrow trail, the path familiar under his feet even in the dead of night. His cabin, hidden from prying eyes, awaited them—a haven where he could tend to her needs and postpone the inevitable revelations of dawn.

"Everything's gonna be alright," he spoke again, not sure if the words were meant more for her or for himself. The weight of her in his arms was nothing compared to the burden of the secret he harbored, but for now, he focused on the rhythm of his stride, the feel of her breathing, and the promise of safety found only within the walls he called home.

Stay tuned for part 8!! Click HERE to view!

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

ajax with dimples and foul legacy with two dips carved into either side of his intricate lil mask face

*holds mic up* YOU. KEEP TALKING

you met Foul Legacy before you meet Ajax, somewhere out in the mountains of Liyue when he's finishing up a training session, the sight of a giant Abyssal monster making you freeze in your tracks, blood turning to ice when his faceted gaze lands on you. your heart drops, squeezing your eyes shut as heavy footsteps approach you- only to blink when something solid and slightly cold bumps gently against your forehead. the creature whines quietly, sitting on his heels to make himself seem smaller, less threatening, and slowly you reach out and set your hand on top of his head, your finger sinking into his fluffy hair. the beast brightens, odd, gem-shaped eye gleaming as he promptly leans in and begins sniffing your jacket and bag, letting out curious chitters and leaning against your palms with happy purrs. all you can do is laugh in surprise, fingers tracing the edges of his mask-like face, eventually falling on two small divots where his cheeks might be, serving seemingly no purpose. you poke them, and tilt your head, and your new friend simply tilts his head in mimicry and trills

it's not until you meet Ajax, or Childe as he goes by when doing his Harbinger work, that you understand. he's loud and boisterous and a bit playfully rough, almost the exact opposite of his Abyssal counterpart you come to know as Foul Legacy, always greeting you with a tight squeeze or a pat on the head and swinging your hand cheerfully as you walk. there's a certain charm to him when he spontaneously twirls you around or lifts you off the ground to carry you, like today, and you stare down at him with a good-natured smile as he grins up at you, oceanic eyes creased shut. you blink, then gasp, and Ajax's eyes fly open as he looks at you worriedly, but you merely laugh and poke his cheeks in delight, your fingers nudging familiar divots, except in soft skin rather than a tough mask

"Ajax! You and Foul Legacy have dimples!"

[prince-kallisto]

End of the TWST World: A Deal with the Devil

Indulge me a bit with this theory, but what if Yuu was summoned to instigate the end of the TWST world?

Yuu was never brought in with the purpose of saving the world. Think about if- I’m assuming that Crowley is both the summoner and the culprit behind the Overblots. These motives together make no sense, because why bring Yuu to save the world if he’s also actively causing the end of the world?

Grim is eating the Overblot crystals.

That’s the key- and the Overblot crystals can ONLY be made if the Phantom is separated by the Magic User. It’s a waste product. Meaning, the SSR Epic Troublemakers HAVE to be saved from their Overblot form. In Book 6, it’s revealed that the Overblotters are valuable specimens BECAUSE they overcame their Overblot forms, meaning it’s a rare occurrence.

I firmly believe that the Overblots are caused on purpose, and I think that the crystals are meant to be eaten by Grim. None of this would be possible without the “beast master” Yuu, whose able to bring people together to defeat the common enemy. While it seems like they’re saving everyone, everything is falling into place with how Crowley wants it. Slowly but surely, Grim consumes more and more blot crystals. I’ve recently been thinking that Grim is Crowley’s phantom, and I realized: If Grim becomes “the most powerful mage in the world,” CROWLEY becomes the most powerful mage in the world.

Additionally, the more blot phantoms consume, the more “POW Bonus” they get. Grim is slowly becoming more powerful right under our eyes. But if this was the case, why did Crowley beg us for help in the prologue?

It’s a lie. Or rather, a lure. We discover in Book 6 that Phantoms can talk, and several phantoms “mimicked” humans are were crying out for help. Beasts and BIRDS use vocal mimicry to lure their prey- which is Yuu.

This whole time, we’ve been under the assumption that Yuu was brought in to be the savior, but everything involving Grim and Crowley just don’t add up until you consider this angle. Additionally, the Dark Mirror calls Yuu “utterly vacant.” As if they’re a vessel. And by taking Crowley’s (?) hand in the mirror in the prologue, you become the unknowing vessel for Crowley to take over the TWST world. It’s metaphorically a kind of “deal with the Devil,” as Yuu has literally no way out, so they have to save everyone- until they find the truth out too late. I don’t have a concrete guess for his motives, but I’m thinking that the TWST world is cursed somehow for the villains to always lose. But by taking the world and reshaping it into his own, Crowley can ensure a “happy ending.”

[infinite-hearts-333]

Smiling Critters Cartoon- Ouřa Thorn

I view the cartoon as the like. OG source of all other aus, even though the toys were probably made first, as well as the experiments, BUT I DO WHAT I WANT RWAH. So this is like. OG Thorn.

This is my explanation of where Thorn lives, and how they came into existence within the cartoon universe.

First of all, this story actually starts off with Bubbles. Although she wasn’t known as Bubbles back then- rather by her species, the Giant White-Tipped Wandering Tarantula- or ‘Big Blue’ as called by the rural farmers that would sometimes see her.

Wandering Tarantulas were a massive but mostly passive species of spider- known for patrolling expansive of land for food and water, and their freakishly good mimicry skills. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d see them clamber along the sides of wheat field, ever careful to not flatten any off the plants. They are tenders to the forest- a guardian to ward off any thing that threatens the beasts that reside inside.

One concept that I love and have burrowed is that there are ‘Critters’ aka Dogday ect, that are human like- and then ‘Beasts’ that are animals. And on some rare occasions, if a beast earns an emblem, they can become a critter, like Bobby bear hug from @novalizinpeace (who has a new blog now for their au, go check it out!!!!)

Bubbles was a beast- a very smart beast, just like how animals of our world can be very intelligent.

The way Thorn was born, was just like any other critter- by stork. And in this situation, by pure luck, fate and the animal intelligence that Bubbles possessed.

Litter happens. And sometimes, critters loose things. So whilst one fine morning, when Bubbles is wandering through the forest, they step on a paper, that had blown in, smudging a foot print on the bottom half. This note, was actually a letter- a half finished letter for a child that a parent must have lost.

Not that Bubbles knew that.

Unsure what to do with this paper, the tarantula did what most animals do- copy the creatures that normally have it. By watching the Critters, Bubbles witnessed Critters putting paper in a big red box. So they did the same. And, effectively, mailed a baby request, signed with their foot print.

Now I think there would be a little bit of slack in the Storks since in Nova’s au, King Canv(ass) got Crafty, and apparently Crafty and Dogday wrote a drunk letter and accidentally got another kid, so I’m gonna say that the storks are flexible, in case in more rural places were education isn’t the greatest, writing is a little hard.

And in the topic of rural- some farms just. Do not have addresses, and come on, it’s a magical place and babies come by storks- I’m allowed to bend the rules a little. So for rural places, you leave your finger print on the paper, and the storks use magic to track the print to exactly where you are! Hence why normally, the parent that leaves the print stays at home until the baby comes, cause you don’t want to get them like, at work.

And sometimes, since it’s such a tradition, the parents will leave the finger print instead of their name.

And well…… I feel sorry for that poor stork.

It was a first ever- that a Beast had ever snuck into the stork system. And after checking their equipment four times- nope, the letter was 100% from the Giant Tarantula. Also, there was no rules for this. Was the stork meant to leave a baby with this massive spider??? Take it back? Leave it at an orphanage? (Which was probably didn’t even exist if birth control wasn’t a problem if you get what I mean)

The stork contact their boss, and ofc, he/her/they, didn’t believe it at all. So the stork. Sat the baby down, and watch from afar, pray this animal would take the child.

And she did! The little spiky thing smelt weird, but when Bubbles pressed their pedipalps into the little things softer underbelly, it curled around them with the tiniest little purr ever. And well. Bubbles was therefore convinced that this little thing was their spiderling.

Between the half baked (defiantly a draft) writing and the crinkled, weathered paper with the dirty print- Ouřa Thorn turned out with some issues- the most prominent being that one of their horns had snapped. Whether the horn was to weak and broke, or if it never fully developed- no one knows- but it dreadfully impacted Thorns hearing, and therefore, their volume of their voice when they started interacting with other Critters.

Bubbles also being the Best Mum Ever tm, also was proven when it came to Thorns emblem- mainly because she found it. Thorns emblem is of course, the image of the world serpent- or Ouroboros.

Bubbles had found it deep within the forest, in a tiny old ruin- and well, knowing that their spiderling hoarded shinies like no one’s business, they took it back for them.

To Bubbles knowledge, they love it so much they wear it everywhere they go!

[monstersdownthepath]

A collection of Nascent Demon Lords (plus an extra)

(Pic source; it’s not 1 to 1 what I have in mind, but it’s close enough! and certainly eye-catching)

I’ve done daemons and sahkil, so here we have a trio of nascent demon lords. And also, as an extra treat, an especially disgusting Qlippoth Lord! These aren’t my only concepts for nascent lords, but if I put all of them in a single post then I won’t have any to post later!

As always, there’s significantly more lore for each of these horrors than I put in their little blurbs. Feel free to ask! If one or another gets enough attention, I might write a full article like I’ve done for bigger divinities.

TW for alcoholism mentions in the second entry, and body horror and major unsanitary themes in the final entry.

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Caerbannog, the Deceptive Death Chaotic Evil Nascent Demon Lord of Aggressive Mimicry and Camouflage

One of many wicked children of Lamashtu, Caerbannog has risen above his lesser kin and maintained a hold on a small but stable kingdom of labyrinthine tunnels which link into the realms of various other Abyssal powers, which he constantly steals from. Petitioners, territory, treasure, whatever he can claim for himself without risking immediate retaliation. While this audacious behavior would get any other creature slaughtered for their impudence, Caerbannog remains under the radar of beasts such as Jezelda, Angazhan, and Zevgavizeb by sticking to a simple but fairly effective gimmick: Appearing very, very small.

Able to hide his presence to a degree that even True Sight cannot pierce his disguises, Caerbannog masquerades as harmless animals, demon larvae, or lowly creatures such as quasits to creep unseen in the lairs of his betters, taking from them what he can as part of a strange ‘game’ he plays with himself. Patron of all manner of beasts and killers whose appearance belies unholy strength and hunger, Caerbannog is overjoyed when he is found by some guardian or predator which mistakes his taken form for his true one. Exploding forth from the body of a quasit, kitten, or--his favorite--a rabbit, he becomes a whirlwind of shredding teeth and claws that can quickly dismember beasts of any size, leaving him to frolic adorably amongst the gore until he grows bored and moves on.

Domains: Animal, Chaos, Evil, Trickery Subdomains: Fur, Demon, Whimsy, Deception Favored Weapon: Claws Symbol: The head of a herbivorous animal with bloodstains around the mouth. Sacred Animals: Rabbits and kill kittens Sacred Colors: White, brown, gray

Obedience: Attack a creature that saw you as harmless or friendly. Preferably this leads to the creature’s death.  Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to Disguise and Bluff checks.

Boon 1: Harmless Form Boon 2: Beast Shape II Boon 3: Veil

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Vodani, the Demon at the Bottom of the Bottle Chaotic Evil Nascent Demon Lord of Intoxication and Misdirected Anger

Among the most human-looking of any demon, Vodani’s sickly yellow eyes and shark-like teeth betray the truth of his heritage, forcing him to take pains to hide them when he walks among mankind. Appearing as an innocent vagrant, Vodani finds groups of beggars and paupers to infiltrate, gaining their trust and sympathy with gifts of alcohol and stories stolen from his past victims. Over time, he will learn everything he can about them and their lives, what decisions or foul luck brought them to this state, and it’s then he will begin to work to twist their innocent desires for a better life into hatred for foes real and imagined.

There are some who mistake Vodani for a benevolent figure, the Patron (or Prince) of Paupers, uniting the destitute and broken against everything that brought them low, but while his cultists may have their own ideas of revenge, Vodani himself cares little for any true justice; he whips his unwitting victims into mobs united against scapegoats and other innocents, and any long-term good he ends up doing is purely accidental. So long as something or someone is destroyed by the end of the resulting riot, he considers it a success, leaving the poor souls he deceived behind to drink themselves to death and rise again as his children to perpetuate the cycle of violence.

Domains: Chaos, Community, Evil, Trickery Subdomains: Revelry, Riot*, Demon, Espionage Favored Weapon: Improvised weapon Symbol: Two beaten flasks, tankards, or cups toasting. Sacred Animals: None Sacred Colors: Yellow, brown *Followers of Vodani can modify the Community Domain with the Riot Subdomain.

Obedience: Find one or several drunkards and spend one hour conversing with them, weaving in purposefully inflammatory statements against targets of ire, be it yours or theirs. Alternately, spend at least one hour drinking alcoholic drinks while ruminating on everyone that has ever wronged you. Many followers of Vodani perform either obedience by accident. Benefit: Three times per day as a standard action, you may cause a bottle of ale, wine, whiskey, beer, or other mundane, low-quality alcohol to appear in your hand. Each bottle contains enough for two servings. These bottles and their contents disappear after 24 hours, or if you fail to perform your Obedience, though having the drinks on-hand allows you to easily perform it.

Boon 1: Rotgut Boon 2: Malicious Spite Boon 3: Song of Discord

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Galroscul, the Hunger Sealed in Steel Nascent Demon Lord of Cannibalism and Gluttony

In his prime, Galroscul was a terrifying figure to behold. A towering horror in the shape of an anthropomorphic boar with the scales and tail of a dragon, six unblinking eyes on either side of his head, his tusks and claws as powerful as adamantine and his stomach as bottomless as the Abyss itself. He became a Demon Lord by literally eating his way there, legends claiming he consumed an entire Abyssal layer along with every demon and demigod within it to fuel his ascension, and if the stories are anything to go by, he wasn’t nearly close to finished. He had his eye on the throne of gods, hoping that if he drank the blood of Lamashtu, he would stand alongside her and, eventually, devour her as well.

He didn’t even get anywhere close to enacting his plan before he was ambushed by the forces of Zura, lord of cannibals, and Xoveron, lord of gluttons, who both saw his existence as a threat and formed a rare union against him. They drained and consumed what they could of him, leaving him pitifully weakened and, knowing that if they slew him he would simply return to life at full strength, set into motion a plan to humiliate and imprison him with the aid of greedy mortals. On a far-off world, Galroscul has been sealed inside of a great and terrible machine by a cabal of meat-mongers hoping to make their products fiendishly addictive. He rages and starves within this machine, processing countless carcasses but unable to truly eat a single bite, reduced in power to a Nascent Demon Lord and losing more of his sanity with every passing day.

Domains: Animal, Chaos, Destruction, Evil Subdomains: Fur, Demon, Rage, Cannibalism Favored Weapon: Bite Symbol: A boar skull trapped in a metallic diamond. Sacred Animals: Boars and goats Sacred Colors: Red and brown

Obedience: Begin eating a creature while it’s still alive. Alternately, consume a limb taken from a creature within the last 24 hours. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to your AC versus bite attacks and to your CMD against grapple attempts.

Boon 1: Enemy’s Heart Boon 2: Hunger for Flesh Boon 3: Extended Hungry Pit

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Lormlecht, the Dung-Eater Qlippoth Lord of Filth and Sepsis

There are creatures considered disgusting, vomit-inducing, or putrid, and then there is Lormlecht, whose nauseating habits put all others to shame. Once nothing but a harmless scavenger scarcely as large as a finger, the Dung-Eater has gone from vermin to hazard to a lethal danger the size of a sea serpent as it has slithered through the sewers and muck of the Abyss, feasting merrily on the leavings of these twisted civilizations and dragging unwary victims into cesspits to ferment to perfection. Many attempts to destroy the filth-eating abomination have been made by mortal and immortal alike, but on the rare occasions these attempts succeed, they’re tragically short-lived as Lormlecht reforms within the bowels of a living creature infected with Filth Fever.

Lormlecht possesses a unique relationship with the wasting disease, able to cause embryonic qlippoth (especially Chernobue) to form within the bodies of any creature infected with even a mild strain. Any minor contact with its form is capable of causing a full-blown infection, to say nothing of the horrifying fate that befalls anyone who suffers even a glancing blow from its alarmingly equine, filth-slicked teeth; such victims are infested not only with a nearly incurable variant of Filth Fever, but a menagerie of other diseases which resist magical cures and can cause an agonizing, septic death within hours. It’s quite telling that even demons consider being bitten by the Dung-Eater a gruesome and miserable fate.

Domains: Chaos, Death, Evil, Water Subdomains: Caves*, Plague, Corruption, Flotsam Favored Weapon: Club Symbol: A piece of rotted offal impaled on a stick Sacred Animals: Rats and otyughs Sacred Colors: Brown *Followers of Lormlecht can modify the Chaos or Evil Domains with the Caves Subdomain.

Obedience: Spend no more than an hour contaminating an area you expect other creatures to pass through with filth and waste. Benefit: Your body harbors Filth Fever, which does not harm or inconvenience so long as you’ve performed your Obedience within the last 7 days. Any creature which ingests your blood is exposed to the disease (DC 13 negates, as normal).

Boon 1: Mud Buddy Boon 2: Tenacious Stinking Cloud Boon 3: Plague Storm