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therealvagabird · 4 years

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Some D&D characters!

I made this adventuring party a little while ago, inspired by the idea of an “all-monster” play on the traditional D&D party. Mainly just a fun exercise in character design. I even played as one of them solo.

I might write some excerpts of various adventures of this fictional band, but no promises. They do have something of a vague story-arc to them, though.

Name: Brute

Race: Bugbear

Class: Fighter

Appearance: Very large and burly bugbear, with almost ankle-length arms. Medium grey skin, thick black fur coat with prominent beard. Gold eyes. Features strong but weathered. Has many scars.

Usually wears a sturdy breastplate with simple, dark-colored underclothes in a soldiery style – sometimes with barbute helm. Attire is overall simple, crude, and military, favoring convenience over flair.

Specialties: Polearm defence, medium armor, military discipline, mercenary attitude.

Bio: It was after the landed Lord Francis of Aquila slew a tribe of feral bugbears on a hunting trip that he decided to take one orphaned youth as a personal slave, believing it would make for an intimidating warrior. Though given the sanctified name of “Barba Molossus” (or “Hairy Dog”) in accordance with religious rites, the bugbear was most often known as simply “Brute”. Brute was trained to be a loyal soldier and personal guard of the Aquilan noble family, and steadfastly served despite the constant derision directed at him. When Castle Aquila was ultimately overrun by a rival house, Brute fled into the wilds, eking out a living before coming across a large goblinoid tribe. Once again an outcast for his human rearing, Brute learned that ultimately his brutality would earn him the respect of most greenskins regardless.

Brute is a dour and bitter man, having been exposed to the worst aspects of many different environments and cultures. He has a reputation for savagery and ruthlessness that strikes fear into the hearts of many, even if they deride him as a simple dog. Despite this reputation, Brute is actually quite disciplined and reserved, only exposing his wrath when pushed, and being an otherwise very effective mercenary most of the time.

—

Name: Wu Jinn, “White-Eyes”, “The Clever”, “The Spider” (pejorative)

Race: Hobgoblin

Class: Wizard

Appearance: Shorter hobgoblin, long limbed but average build. Very dark, burgundy skin. Almost elven features, with blunted nose. Wavy black hair with white strands, close on sides but gathered up into long, braided nest on head to be wrapped in turban. Facial hair wispy – if left unshaved will grow slight Fu Manchu, goatee, and sideburns. Black irises.

Sharp-cut purple underclothes in Eastern style. Black, hooded over-robe. Beige leather lamellar armor offers simple protection with flexibility. Black, stiff mantle on shoulders. Pointed shoes. Tight, beige turban on head. Many pouches and arcane tools carefully sorted about person.

Specialties: Magical manipulation and lore, history and general knowledge. Carries enchanted whip and sword.

Bio: There was a time when the hobgoblin mage covens of the dark East were sought after fiercely by warchiefs looking to secure magical power and sage council. Now, the respect allotted to the goblin mages has severely diminished. Wu Jinn trained in the hidden arcanums, perused the libraries of many great kingdoms, and became a learned scholar at a very young age. Now, he is stuck as the disregarded councilor to an orc chief, usually relegated to distributing medicine and conjuring fireballs when he has the knowledge of the past and future at his disposal.

Wu Jinn is a highly analytical hobgoblin, but was drawn to magic over simple scholarship due to the inherent mystery of the arcane. All knowledge is of interest to him, though this has not come without cost. Wu Jinn is aware of what terrible forces are at work in the universe, and it only heightens his frustration with people. He’s not terribly concerned with issues of power or politics, and regards most beings, even himself, as very insignificant in a cosmic sense. Regardless, he can never understand why so many would-be governors concern themselves with such things if they could just listen to him and organize everything so much more conveniently.

—

Name: Mary, “Nightingale”

Race: Tiefling

Class: Sorcerer

Appearance: Tiefling woman with almost black skin and fiery red eyes. Hair is black, straight, and usually kept around jaw length, though held back by nomad-style bandana. Rather tall, lithe but with powerful stature if not slouching. Horns have been completely filed off and hidden with bandana. Facial features strong and very beautiful, though haggard. Fangs, claw-like nails, barbed tail, and forked tongue kept hidden.

Usually dresses in light leather garb with comfortable underclothes and many bandanas. Loose, dark blue linens with tattered black hooded longcoat. Outfit always arranged to disguise infernal features. Prefers as much jewelry as she can wear without being conspicuous.

Specialties: Shadow magic, deception, psychological attacks, stealth, theft, assassination

Bio: Mary was born as the result of a dark ritual by cultists of the Lower Planes, believing she would be the Agrat bat Mahlat, or “Gift of Desolation”, destined to lead a fiendish conquest of the world. An attack against the cult and secret rescue of Mary by a kindly cleric disrupted that plan, however. Mary was placed in an orphanage when the cleric could no longer guard her, and given her current name. A rough childhood and many caretakers later, Mary took to the streets to become a rogue known as “Nightingale”, an enemy of the cruel and powerful, all while running from the remaining members of the old cult that wished to return her to her destiny.

Mary has the misfortune that evil runs very strongly in her blood. Her magical power can only be used to bring pain, confusion, and destruction even when carefully applied. For this reason, she has made it her mission to only target evil and tyrannical enemies, taking them down either directly or with careful manipulation in the hopes that good might fill the void. Nightingale prefers to remain out of sight and out of mind, disguising her infernal heritage in public and attempting to get in and out without a trace when on a mission. She is naturally attracted to many vices, and may have sudden bouts of rage or bitterness, but most of the time tries to retain a peaceful attitude in the hopes that goodness might one day come naturally to her.

—

Name: Batul Grimhand, “Hacksaw”

Race: Half-Orc

Class: Cleric

Appearance: Tall female half-orc with dark olive-green skin. Older, with sturdy figure and many minor scars. Kinky hair shaved into short tight stripe. Broad features, dark brown eyes, prominent but well-kept tusks.

Outfit includes knee-length white undercoat and clothes tucked into sturdy boots, and long leather gloves. Dark blue pants. Solid breastplate covered in all manner of medical pouches protects torso. More accessories affixed to leather belt and faulds. Keeps white bandana around neck to cover face if needed. Will don long leather cloak for bad weather.

Specialties: Field medicine, general healing, shock stabilization, combat support

Bio: Though it has been many centuries since orcs and goblins were defined as lawless and endlessly cruel raiders, the reality of the greenskin strongholds can still be exceptionally brutal in the modern day. To be born a half-breed, and a rare female at that, lead to a tough upbringing for Batul. Service in the warhost and later as a mercenary soldier abroad gave discipline and protection for Batul when there was none. She trained as a medic, seeing the violent realities of the world and wanting to make a difference. However, her clerical training only did so much, and most of the time she was only allotted the time and resources to get the injured back on their feet so that they could die fighting. Trauma and bitterness soon seeped in, and by the time she was an experienced medic, she was also a surly and iron-hard orc. Now, Batul has the respect she always wanted, at the cost of her enthusiasm and optimism. Though there are still the occasional jeers, most know not to mess with Hacksaw if you know what’s good for you.

Batul carries a genuine desire to help people within her scarred and hardened exterior. She is often the voice of pessimism and caution, always expecting the worst and never much trusting in anyone but herself. Years of belittlement and wartime shock have given her a grim disposition that earned her few friends but also few enemies. Her strength is in getting severely injured people back in fighting shape in short order, though she can’t do much more. Given time and resources, she could perhaps do a great many things, heal people body and mind, but she doesn’t hope for such high ideals anymore. Despite her negativity, she is always ready to suggest that a situation might be more than it seems – that enemies might be misunderstood, that what others call “weakness” might not be so reprehensible, and that killing and death are not so noble. Of course, if it comes down to letting a patient die or taking up her axe, she will swiftly choose the latter.

—

Name: Tash, “Tashi”

Race: Goblin

Class: Monk

Appearance: Very thin goblin, shorter than average, with skinny face, impish features, large ears, and huge yellow-green cat eyes. Pale grey-green skin. Messy mop of warm black hair. Would almost be cute for a goblin if he wasn’t covered in all manner of injuries and other old maladies.

Ragged cream sleeveless gi, and dark blue pants, with dark over-cloak and a faded burgundy belt/sash. Wears dark jika-tabi style footwear. Hands and other parts of body usually wrapped in bandages. Has many satchels for trinkets, as goblins like to have.

Specialties: Sword-and-hand fighting, danger sense, survival, dodging.

Bio: Though the greenskin stronghold Tash was born into was far from the worst around, it is still a hard life to be one of the mine-dregs. Despite being very sickly, scrawny, and cowardly by goblin standards, Tash worked in the mines until he sustained enough injuries to earn him a discharge for menial work. The misfortunes heaped upon him would have crippled or driven other goblins mad, but somehow Tash survived. Eventually his survival rate earned him a place in the Dregs’ Union, the goblin racket that allowed successful menials a chance at higher privilege. Though he earned few friends for his paranoid and self-loathing demeanor, he was taken under the wing of Master Maka, an old goblin warrior. Maka was far past his prime, but recognized Tash as “lucky” and so gifted him with the secrets of his Sword and Fist style. The martial secrets were enough to put Tash on the path from survival to possible success.

Tash is an extremely paranoid and mentally degraded goblin. Oftentimes he feels as though he was born into the wrong species. Weak, sickly, and fearful of many things even goblins would have no problem with, Tash tends to underestimate his hidden fortitude. While often the voice of fear and worry, he has proven to be adept at surviving even when thrust into the middle of battle, his fight and flight instincts somehow giving him incredible speed and clarity when they balance out. He is also very intuitive, and while often derided as stupid he has a keen eye for detail. Tash’s greatest obstacle is overcoming the pain and fear of his life to realize just how noble he could be.

—

Name: Baako, “Bomber”, “Batty”, “Blossom”

Race: Goblin

Class: Ranger

Appearance: Hale and lanky goblin with forest green skin, fiery eyes, a wide grin, large batlike ears and a batlike nose. Wide face with sharp features, and long black dreadlocks usually kept back in a ponytail.

Wears tan, sleeveless tunic and baggy tan pants tucked into tall black boots. Black leather cuirass in the style of apron overalls. Black archer’s gloves. Tattered, dark ranger cloak. Green belt sash. Many leather straps and harnesses all over body holding component pouches.

Specialties: Subterfuge, traps, ranged combat, tracking

Bio: Baako is a highly eccentric goblin whose erratic behavior has earned him equal parts distain, fear, and camaraderie from his peers. Born into the foragers, his energetic nature saw him advance quickly before joining the Union and becoming a ranger. He now runs as a scout, warrior, and hunter, wielding numerous traps and diversions to protect his stronghold’s borders. Baako is also a big fan of pranks and debauchery, however, and his constant petty theft and disruptions to his comrades and superiors has earned him as many enemies as his outgoing and driven nature have earned him allies.

Nobody knows for sure if Baako is just theatrical or suffers from some sort of split personality. He will often slip into different “personas” depending on the task at hand or even just swings of his mood. Common nicknames for himself include “Bomber” when he’s hoping to cause mayhem, “Batty” when acting as a ranger, or “Blossom” when he wants to feel cute. Most just leave him be, as for all his oddities he’s proven to be a highly competent goblin. Focused and indefatigable so long as he’s kept occupied, it’s only when Baako gets bored that trouble starts.

#dungeons and dragons #homebrew #d&d party #original character #oc

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chiseler · 5 years

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Two-faced Woman

Although one image of Joan Crawford has persisted in the cultural memory—a hard woman on the edge of hysteria, with caterpillar eyebrows, big shoulders, and burning eyes—in fact she remade her image many times, perhaps more times than any other star. At MGM in the late 1920s, she was photographed by Ruth Harriet Louise in a dazzling array of personas, almost as though she were auditioning to be a female Lon Chaney—the woman of a thousand faces. It was with George Hurrell, Louise’s successor as chief MGM photographer,that Crawford would define her archetypal look of bold, hard-edged glamour. In the earlier pictures, she hasn’t settled on an identity, and she’s so young there’s still baby fat in her cheeks. In some portraits, with her fresh face and short bob and sporty clothes, she is the twenties’ ideal of the boyish woman. Modeling fur coats, she is a shop girl on the make, eyes uplifted in hungry aspiration. In a black wig, with a handkerchief to her mouth, she tries out the tearful appeal of a wronged maiden. Swathed in a bizarre gold-lamé cowl, with her lips lacquered and her huge, luminous eyes fixed on the camera, she’s an exotic temptress. Gazing up lovingly at Robert Montgomery in a still for Untamed (1929), she’s the girl next door. She did cheesecake photos, but she also appeared as Hamlet in a pose and costume imitating John Barrymore. It’s an extraordinary picture, gorgeous and glowering and—if you look too long at her fierce, dark-rimmed eyes—rather alarming. There’s no Hamlet-like doubt or introspection in them, only implacable will.

This burning drive was always at the heart of Crawford’s screen presence; but throughout her career, the peculiar instability of her identity remained as well. If Barbara Stanwyck was driven by the determination, as she said, to “be the best of all,” Crawford’s drive seems more like a dogged, unappeasable need for approval and acceptance. She could play tough and hard, but it always feels like a brittle shell, as mannered as the refined hauteur she wears in other roles. Underneath is a strange blend of fiendish energy and quivering need. Even in her later roles, when her looks have become harsh, her face can open up in a soft, glowing plea, so naked it’s uncomfortable to watch.

One of the earliest and most interesting demonstrations of Crawford’s duality comes in Rain (1932). (In the silent flapper roles that made her a star, Crawford is radiantly confident and spontaneous in a way she would never quite be again.) This was the second of three Hollywood adaptations of Somerset Maugham’s play, which is also memorably alluded to in Scarface, when Tony Camonte takes his boys to improve their minds at the theater. The play is a scathing attack on missionaries, whose prudishness, sanctimony, and hypocrisy are contrasted with the natural sensuality of life on the tropical island of Pago Pago, and with the compassionate tolerance of disreputable Americans like Sadie Thompson (Crawford), her marine sergeant beau O’Hara (William Gargan), and the philosophical store-keeper Mr. Horn (Guy Kibbee). There is nothing fundamentally implausible about the play’s premise, in which the domineering missionary Alfred Davidson converts Sadie, a loose woman with a shady past, and then succumbs to his own lust for her. But as written, and more importantly as played in the 1932 film, the story comes across as something much stranger and more disturbing.

The problem is that Davidson, as played by Walter Huston, is so hateful, so gratingly smug, spiteful, and bullying, that it’s impossible to believe he could convert anyone. Every one of the sympathetic characters sees through him immediately and despises him. He mercilessly persecutes Sadie, coercing the local governor into deporting her back to San Francisco, where she is wanted for a crime she says she did not commit. Sadie lashes out at him furiously—and then abruptly, as though her brain has just snapped, she falls under his spell, reciting the Lord’s Prayer in a robotic, hypnotized voice. Crawford plays the converted Sadie as brainwashed, doped, pathetically clinging to the man who insists that she must be punished, even unjustly, in order to be saved. When she gazes upward with blurry eyes and intones, “I must be punished,” it becomes shockingly clear that this relationship has nothing to with religion; Crawford is playing Sadie as a masochist who gains a sense of worth through submission to a man who breaks her spirit, then grants her fulsome praise and loving approval once she is his slave. This is not a case of spiritual fervor as a substitute for sex; on the contrary. Sadie is a sometime prostitute for whom sex is just a fact of life; she is emotionally enslaved to Davidson because she believes he is a “holy man” who can cleanse her of sin, whose love for her is pure, and this bondage is only broken when he reveals himself to be just like other men. (It’s never clear in the film what exactly happens when Davidson comes to Sadie’s room—whether he rapes her or only attempts to.) By this daring move, Crawford makes some sense of a script that is otherwise unconvincing and overly schematic.

She is much more successful in this radical transformation than she is in playing Sadie Thompson as she first appears—a vulgar, earthy, good-hearted good-time gal. It’s a part Joan Blondell could have played with perfect ease and natural sympathy, while conveying the kind of secret shame and regret that might lead a woman like Sadie to be vulnerable to a soul-saver. Crawford is anything but easy in the role; her slangy, red-hot-mama act is as caricatured as her look, with so much makeup caked on her face that it’s almost a clown mask. The artificiality is not entirely wrong, since Sadie has clearly developed this persona as her way of getting by, and her forced gaiety and defiant brassiness are put on like her cheap bangles and black fishnets. She’s all nervous energy, constantly fidgeting and fiddling with her clothes and fretting about the constant pounding rain.

Director Lewis Milestone combats the staginess of a filmed play with lyrical, scene-setting shots of raindrops falling on sand and palm fronds and water; and with fluid camera movements that circle around the characters. But it is Crawford’s performance of Sadie’s conversion that makes the movie more than just an artfully crafted but flawed and heavy-handed message drama. Her transcendent and pitiful submission would reappear in future films like Possessed (1947), Sudden Fear (1952), Female on the Beach (1955), and Mildred Pierce (1945), which represents the apotheosis of her double nature: a strong and self-reliant woman martyred by abject, obsessive love.

by Imogen Sara Smith

#Imogen Sara Smith #The Chiser #Joan Crawford #Two-faced Woman

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darknesslioness · 6 years

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THE HALLOWEEN CAULDRON - PART 2

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Tonight, I have some sketches to make you all awwww at cuteness and shiver in horror.

TONIGHT, I have three posts for you.

The first, a collection of warmth and cold.

The second, an illustration of a story told.

And the third, a nightmare to unfold.

Behold, the Second.

Here, I have illustrated a scene from an role play that @freckleocalypse and I did together soon after the release of my Venom Trials sketch post. Freckle’s Abel decided to keep his symbiote, Toxin, and the two have been bonding over different things ever since.

So, here I have edited and cut out a scene from our RP that the drawing originates from. Enjoy!

NOTE: Responses from the RP (both from me and Freckle obviously) have been edited together in order to create a smoother story flow.

Context: In a forest close to the kingdom’s castle, Toxin and Abel are currently in a hunting competition with Phage, who has taken full control of Sebastian. Phage has just taken off in another direction, while Abel, with his symbiote Active around him, continue forward in search of their own prey.

“DEAL.” With a shark’s smile and fiendish glare, Phage agrees. The symbiote then vanishes from their presence, almost noiseless now, as Toxin senses it traveling farther and farther away from them at frightening speed.

Not one to be shown up, Toxin focuses on another direction, ironically along the forest ruins of its past rampage. Strictly ignoring that fact, it concentrates on the hunt, merging its advanced senses with its host’s.

Abel’s vision blurs and warps, eyes dilating in a way completely unnatural from the norm. His sight becomes sharper, clearer, and even magnifying. Clouds and shapes of gradienting colors erupt from almost every point of focus as they take in by sight and by scent the pulsing life-force and chemical output of every living thing within a large radius around them. Such a sensory overload should have been mind-breaking for any human, but the symbiote’s mind acted as a filter for his, sorting through the different signatures for Abel and merging its mind enough with his own to make it capable of comprehending the sheer amount of data.

Amazed by the new sense of sight, Abel looks around excitedly before focusing on a certain cloud that drifts past them, quickly turning to follow it. Toxic Abel jumps silently from tree to tree as they move further away from Phage and the first boar’s corpse. Roaming a bit, Abel finally comes to a stop, hidden in an oak that overlooks the forest floor. He remains silent and tries to keep Toxin as quiet as possible when they see a boar almost as big as a cow wander past, its tusks huge and chiseled from hundreds of battles and it’s hide prickly and scarred. Abel finds no trouble in keeping Toxin silent in the approach, its hunting instinct taking hold.

A wide grin tugs at their face as Abel watches the boar silently. After waiting for the perfect moment to strike, he quickly leaps down right on top of the massive beast and kills it instantly with a spear-shaped claw driven straight into its head.

The animal collapses under them, one leg breaking as it is bent at an odd angle under the sudden force of the weight upon it. Not that it mattered, as the pain center was destroyed with the forceful stab, the rest of the brain quickly dying after it.

Toxin quickly has their teeth snapping, their jaws salivating at the fresh kill, but it pauses before its instincts could drive it forward. Restrained, it eyes the glistening blood draining from the hole in the animal’s skull, growling a bit before it starts a strained request.

“IF YoU DoN’T MiNd …”

Abel shudders a little at the thought of what Toxin intended to do before smiling again.

”H-Hey, I won’t be needing the head. Go crazy.”

The symbiote had enough insight and sense to lock Abel out from all his senses before letting hungry instinct take over, jaws widening and lunging forward to quickly shatter the boar’s head with an effect similar to Phage’s. Still perched on the huge boar’s humped back, it pulls their head back, seeking to tear the top of the boar’s skull off. The neck of the hog is quickly pulled back to an unnatural angle, a snapping series of pops and cracks sounding from the boar’s neck before the skull cap finally rips free in a spray of blood.

Bone and hide start to be pulverized and liquidized between acid teeth as the boar’s head thumps heavily back against the ground, a damaged brain sliding and hanging in ropy lumps off the side of its head by the brain stem.

The drive to consume surges at the sight of the prized grey matter covered in red, and Toxin has scarcely swallowed before it snatches up the vital organ in their foaming jaws and rips it completely free of the skull. It savors the taste for a moment before greedily gorging it all down their throat. It growls loudly in satisfaction as the chemical compounds within the muscle immediately begin to sate a portion of its hunger and begin to fuel the strength and mass of its symbiotic matter.

Its predatory instinct fading a bit, it regards the rest of the head before scoffing at it, uninterested. Making a clean cut at the neck, slicing through flesh and bone just as easily as Phage had with his boar, it grabs the large snout and tosses the head’s remains into the distance between the trees, a trail of raining blood following after it. It begins licking and wiping their face and body clean of gore as it lets Abel’s mind back out of its shuttered state.

After a moment, Abel decides to speak up, his distorted voice leaving their shared mouth as Toxin finishes licking their killing claw clean.

”You didn’t have to block my senses off like that.” He smiles a little as he climbs off the boar and picks its body up over their shoulder to carry it.

“I’Ve haVe LoNG LeArNeD ThAt MoST HuMAns Are . . . SenSITiVe … To OuR FeEdInG HaBiTs, EsPeCiAlLY WheN It Is TheIr BoDY DoInG The EAtiNG.”

”Heh, thanks for considering that, Tox.” Abel smiles more before looking around.

”We should probably find Phage and see if he caught anything. Something tells me we won.”

Toxin grimaces at the notion of rejoining its pest of an uncle, barely keeping their claws from stabbing into the boar in its fierce dislike. Luckily, its gaze catches onto a cluster of distinct life signs about half a mile off, deeper into the woods. Zooming in to watch the shapes bob and strut amongst the chorus of other pulsing life, it grins. The tendrils along their back begin to snake around the boar’s body on their shoulder, beginning to wrap around it like dozens of inky, red, boa constrictors.

“WhY StOP NoW? ThErE’S STiLL PlEnTy MoRe HuNTinG To BE DONe.”

Looking over to the new life, Abel frowns a bit.

”I don’t know….I guess we could do one more before finishing up. Just remember the rules, Phage has to follow them and so do we.”

Toxin doesn’t reply as its tendrils finish completely covering the boar, the red tentacles fusing together in a seal. And then, smaller tendrils shot out of the top of the symbiote encasement, latching onto the limbs above like web-like strings. Abel can feel the roots of the tendrils encasing the boar detached from their back as the red, fleshy strings automatically pull the boar from their shoulder and into the tree above. Barely any time passes before the tendrils they lost are replaced with new ones, growing from their back to sway and writhe behind them again.

Taking the permission gladly, Toxin takes the reins, leaving their first catch behind safely in the tree and sprinting them through the trees towards their next target.

In a small, grassy clearing, fat bodies of feathered brown, grey, and black parade and bob, yelps and gobbles following them through the tall grass. Several toms and jakes occupy the little field, puffing out feathers and beards, coloring their necks, and spreading tails and wings as they size each other up and strut before the females in a show of dominance in size and grooming. The outnumbering females pick and peck between tuffs of grass for nuts and seeds, seemingly uninterested in the showy suitors.

One heavy weight rules them all, the other gobblers keeping distance and lowering their displays when his is turned to them in threat. This one flaunts its size and perfect plumage freely and radiates confidence, having already mated with half of the hens present. He sets his eyes on another prospect, a large female that had only just arrived, yanking out the roots of the sweet grasses.

He immediately starts to strut before her once he gets close enough, showing off the shine of his feathers and the width of their barb. She shows little interest over her rich feeding. He ups his game and steps to the side, circling her in a careful dance. She lifts her head and watches with mild interest at his footwork, showing that he is no amateur. He puffs up a little bit more and plays a bit of drumming in his chest for her, slowly coming closer when she doesn’t move away with his advances. Her head turns left and right as she eyes him, sizing him up for herself. She is no amateur either in this game and will only accept the best.

He sways a bit on his feet as he steps forward luxuriously and emits a series of spitting sounds to finish off his booming drum. Finally, her interest seems caught by his musical dance and she moves forward, beginning to circle him. He circles back, their spiraling bringing them closer and closer to each other until they face each other a foot away.

Long, massive claws strike the ground between them, goring the earth and shredding grass.

”MaY I CuT In?”

Toxin hisses as the two turkeys, along with the rest of their group, flutter into a startled panic, frantically beating their wings to take to the air in escape.

The symbiote holds its and Abel’s attention on the big male, watching the terrified womanizer take flight and gain some distance from them before it laughs.

”Or MaYbE CuT OFF?”

With a powerful spring of their legs, it shots them into the sky, rapidly closing distance of the head-start that the alien had given the bird. The fast, heavy beat of its wings, the cloud-dotted sky emerging over the trees, and pure terror are the last things the turkey perceives as its head spins higher into the air, suddenly detached from its falling body with a rain of red.

Toxic Abel lands back down upon the grassy earth with agility and grace, not a claw out of place as they meet the ground like a dismounting panther.

The fat, feathered body hits the ground with a heavy thud and a falling trail of blood and feathers. Even headless, it continues to flap its wings and claw at the ground in vicious twitches, staining a red circle in the grass.

With a grin, Toxic Abel crouches not far from it, watching. Then, without even having to look up, it throws back their head and parts their jaws wide just in time to catch the turkey’s falling head and neck, its teeth snapping shut as they swallow it whole, beak and all. The other turkeys had only just all disappeared into the trees that moment.

”AAaahhh, FeAr. The BeSt KiND oF SeAsONiNG, EvEn If OnlY A SpRiNkLiNG FoR ThiS One.”

While Toxin enjoys the turkey, Abel tries to keep himself from gagging.

”O-Okay … m-maybe blocking my senses when you eat isn’t such a bad idea …”

Thanks for reading! This excerpt was from a collab role play with @freckleocalypse. Give her some love!

THE HALLOWEEN CAULDRON - PART 3

#halloween #marvel #toxin #symbiote #abel #freckleocalypse #toxic abel #the halloween cauldron part 2 #rp #roleplay #writing #sketch #horror #gore #lioness draws #lioness writes #freckle writes #venom

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helvenandgrey · 3 years

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Baatezu Devils

Overview:

Standing in the lower rungs of the devil-species of hell, only above Demons by virtue of the circumstances of their births. Often considered the loyal dogs and assassins of Hell’s Elites. As they can appear to be like any fiend, Demon, Devil, or otherwise, the only method to discern Baatezu are from their light colored hair, ashen skin, and golden eyes. Since they are known for their entire forms and beings changing upon promotion to fit whatever Elite promoted them’s desires, it's simply easier to remember a certain Baatezu's name and go from there.

While a Baatezu can be born to almost any race and most young, unaccomplished Baatezu will look to be from that race, Elite Devils and Princes are able to pick them from a crowd and recognize them for what they are.

Baatezu Physiology and Culture:

Baatezu’s possess the unique ability to be ‘transformed’ into other Fiendish races, giving them the abilities and powers of those races, and often the temperaments and thought processes as well. Despite being members of these species, for all intents and purposes, Baatezu remain themselves and their own personalities, traits acquired from previous forms, and memories from those forms transfer into the new form as well. This makes the elder and more elite generations of Baatezu easier to spot, as the Pit Fiends of the race tend to be more level headed than Pit Fiends born to the Pits, or with assassins' with far more knowledge of other Fiends than their peers.

As only Princes and Elite Devils know how to make these transformations occur, it is no wonder that most Baatezu become fiercely loyal to whomever they serve, as it is their only method for promotion and to prove themselves. Most Baatezu find themselves becoming jack's of all l trades to better suit whichever Prince they end up working for, but they all have a similar goal.

To handle their population Baatezu are limited in their ability to procreate. All Baatezu are born without genitalia, and even those who get promoted and gain female genitalia remain infertile. Only those with male genitalia are capable of reproducing. While this may have been needed millennia ago, it makes them hard to come by now. A perk of being promoted is that a Prince can also use the transformation to change their genitalia or, if the Baatezu has proven themselves enough, gift them the ability to change it at will. Of course, with this gift also comes the unspoken expectation that the Baatezu shall wait for their employer’s agreeance to procreate, as furthering their line is believed to be in the employer’s court at all times.

Being seen as important enough in the eyes of a higher devil to be granted the ability to change sex at will between male, female, and no genitalia is considered the highest honor among Baatezu culture, and is only granted to the higher ranking generals and scholars in direct service to the Princes of hell. This causes most to have an innate need to prove themselves, one that even those raised outside of the culture of the lower plains find themselves falling into.

Due to their reproduction issues, most Baatezu tend to have an obsession with their lineage, even those granted the ability to change their physical sex at will become obsessed with the idea of gaining their Princes favor and a chance to reproduce within the confines most find their loyalty puts them under. Baatezu who reproduce without a princes approval are often found to be suspect at best, deemed traitors at worst and hunted down as if they had risen.

Notable Baatezu:

Kaller:

Mili's father and a pit fiend, ex-general of the an army belonging to the Prince of Wrath, Sathanas (Or Satan).

Usually hides his true form, but when seen in it he resembles a large Wrath Demon and a classic Pit Fiend, large tail, spikes, and wings and all.

Before he was ascended to Pit Fiend he had worked as a scholar, spymaster, and for a time an assassin in the Wrath plains before being changed into a war general.

Now considered a “Risen Baatezu” (AKA a Baatezu who stopped working for his Prince and chose to stop serving evil purposes). He "rose" and left a bloody mess in the pits as he left so that he could gain favor with the Tiefling Baara and form a lineage of his own without being under Sathanas' thumb. He's been in hiding ever since, and despite his children being Tieflings, he is proud they don’t have to deal with the things he did as he rose through the ranks.

Despite his hatred for the Wrath plain, he tested his daughters skills by leaving her stranded on the Wrath Plain for three years (when she was ages 13-16), waiting to see if she could access her devilish lineage and leave on her own. He was honestly surprised her lineage resembles more of her sirenic grandmother's than his, but did find comfort in how her aura resembled his along with her tail spikes and strength.

Is currently raising his son, Sage, and will occasionally leave him with his sister Mili or their mother Baara if he needs to go into more dangerous areas of the Lower Plains for his own purposes. Is not married to Baara but does consider her his and is possessive over his family.

Is aligned to true neutral, but has tendencies to perform evil deeds as he sees fit and the only thing keeping him from going full swing evil is his family. Has a penchant for cruelty towards those who anger or insult him or his.

Mabig:

Deceased. Was a young Baatezu who had only managed to change once, becoming a grunt scholar in the Wrath Plains.

Had helped Mili survive during her time stranded in the plains, and had originally planned to use her to make and further their own line of Tieflings with Baatezu blood who weren’t indebted to the Princes.

After their first transformation they became weary of Mili’s growing proficiency of traversing the plains on her own and wanted to brand her to ensure she never left and remained at their side. Made the mistake of calling her their “future breeding partner” and talking to her like a thing.

Angered her enough to accidentally trigger her accessing her Devilish heritage and became her first kill. Was the center of a “bouquet of heads” she presented to the nearest Elite Devil to their location alongside the heads of those who got in her way of reaching said Elite. The act of killing Mabig for their “crimes of pride” was what got her sent back to Midgard.

The memory of Mabig still haunts Mili, as does her act of wrath against him and how she may have over-reacted to the whole situation. They both had, Mabig had simply paid with their life. Now they stand as an example of why she needs to keep her anger on a tight leash.

#worldbuilding #demons tw #gender issues tw #devils tw #death tw #branding tw

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yeoldontknow · 7 years

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All Black Everything (M)

Author’s Note: i have seen the devil and his name is kim jongin. someone get me a fan. this is a continuation of the universe for Did You See? you can read both separately, however the impact is a little stronger at the end if you read the original story first.

Pairing: Kai x Reader (oc; female)

Genre: smut

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: explicit sex; explicit language

Word Count: 3,881

Nini[10:03 PM]: i can’t stop thinking about the other night…

Y/N[10:05 PM]: which night? lmao i’ve seen you every night this week

Nini[10:08 PM]: don’t be like that, duchess. you know exactly which night i’m talking about.

Y/N[10:09 PM]: no, nini.

Y/N[10:09 PM]: youll have to be specific.

Nini[10:09 PM]: tuesday

Y/N[10:10 PM]: what happened tuesday? we did a lot of things that night~

Nini[10:13 PM]: are you gonna make me say it?

Y/N[10:14 PM]: yes.

Nini[10:16 PM]: my hands are full.

Y/N[10:17 PM]: don’t care

Y/N[10:17 PM]: if you want me to play you have to be specific.

Nini[10:18 PM]: my fingers

Nini[10:19 PM]: stuffed into your tight, wet cunt.

Y/N[10:19 PM]: they felt so good nini

Nini[10:20 PM]: you know what would feel better

Y/N[10:25 PM]: i can think of a few things

Nini[10:26 PM]: what took so fucking long?

Y/N[10:28 PM]: i was thinking of what would feel better

Nini[10:29 PM]: are you touching yourself baby?

Y/N[10:31 PM]: yes. but my fingers dont feel as good as yours

Nini[10:33 PM]: damn right they don’t.

Nini[10:33 PM]: my fingers still smell like you

Nini[10:35 PM]: i’ve been wearing you to bed for days

Y/N[10:40 PM]: fuck nini where are you?

Nini[10:42 PM]: in jongdae’s bathroom

Nini[10:42 PM]: im at his thing.

Nini[10:43 PM]: he and the empress are all over each other

Nini[10:43 PM]: makes me wish you were here. that you came.

Y/N[10:44 PM]: you know i hate that shit

Y/N[10:44 PM]: but i could still come~

Nini[10:46 PM]: send me something i want to see you

Y/N sent a video

Nini[10:49 PM]: fuck babe. fuck fuck you look so tight

Y/N[10:51 PM]: your turn. i want to see.

Nini sent a photo

Y/N[10:53 PM]: oh my god nini what are you wearing? fuck your arms

Y/N[10:54 PM]: your cock is so thick

Nini[10:55 PM]: can i come cover?

Y/N[10:57 PM]: what about jongdaes thing?

Nini[10:59 PM]: really dont give a shit about it

Nini[11:00 PM]: rather be inside of you

Y/N[11:01 PM]: fuck nini whats gotten into you

Nini[11:03 PM]: youre fucking with my head

Nini[11:04 PM]: youre all i think about

Y/N[11:01 PM]: door is unlocked

Nini[11:02 PM]: be there soon duchess

Anxiety pulls you to your living room, sits you on your couch with shaking knees and clenched thighs. Instantly your skin sticks to the leather, damp and warm with a desire fueled by your racing heart. You wait for him here, body trembling with anticipation and imagination already pressing your breasts into his waiting palms.

For six months, it has been like this. Texts and calls leading to lust that tastes like wildfire and burns just as fiercely, but, always, he stops. For six months, you've been driven to the edge of your limit, pushed to a wanting and craving so visceral you think it's etching itself into your bones and still, he stops. He fills you with his fingers and bites the tendons of your neck to bruising, but never does he take from you the thing you desperately want to give.

Always, he pulls away from you and rests his forehead against yours. Jongin is a champion of his will, holding it down and forcing it to stay wrapped around his fingers. He says it's because he wants to take it slow. He says it's because he wants to savor you, learn you until all he has is one, final piece. Really, you know it's because he's giving you space to run.

Both of you are consciously aware you were best friends first. Both of you are aware that your lives, both as friends and lovers, are so wrapped around and bound to one another that this change in dynamic is a paradigm shift. He stops because he loves you. He stops because he refuses to let you go. He stops because every new terrain traveled is a landmark, and he wants to give you the room to step back.

He stops, and so, tonight, his explicit desire to be inside you is the first time he's mentioned it. Over and over the request has fallen from your lips, tumbled off your tongue and smeared itself over his mouth, his chest, his hard cock, but it was always met with a smile and a peck of his lips. Soon has been his answer, and soon is what you started to think kept your heart beating.

And so tonight, anxiety moved you to the couch but it's excitement and need that make you wait in black silk. You're in black silk underwear with just your robe to cover the length of your body. It's anxiety that moves you to the couch but it's excitement that spreads you open against it, left leg draped over the back while your fingers pet leisurely at your core. Eyes on the door, you wait.

You wait.

It takes him twenty minutes to get to your house, and, by the time the door opens, the scent of your arousal has permeated the room. Jongin walks through the door like he’s sauntering into paradise, eyes already dark and mouth set in a pout that makes him look both severe and innocent. You bit your lip when you see him like this, hips bucking up as if to lure him over to you. At the sight of you, splayed over the couch and touching yourself, he releases a moan that sounds like a howl breaking through the quiet of the room.

‘Stand up,’ he says, peering at your body through downcast eyelashes. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, likely to stop him from reaching for you too soon.

Eager to comply, you ease yourself from the couch and let your robe fall around your shoulders, loose and inviting. With his tongue escaping to slide along his bottom lip, he drinks you in, eyes slithering up your frame and raising goosebumps in their wake. Without even touching you, he’s taken complete control of your flesh, your heart, your soul.

‘You wore black.’ His voice is low, sensual in its raspy cadence, and it makes you drag a finger between your lips to keep from moaning.

‘I wanted to match,’ you murmur, scanning his body with equal fervor.

Standing in your living room, he’s half hard and looking proud. Lip caught between his teeth, his jaw is clenched and his chest is heaving, heavy breath making his loose vest top rustle with each inhale. His shoulders are tense, giving the muscles in his arms more definition than usual, and the sight of his lean frame dressed entirely in black sends a shock right to your core. You’re wet in a way you didn’t think you could be, not just from the sight of a person. Hands nowhere near you, you think it should be impossible to want someone this much, impossible to already feel them moving along your flesh like an extension of you. But you do.

You do.

‘Get over here,’ he says firmly, jutting his chin to beckon you forward.

Against the natural urge in your body to run to him, you take your time, take long, languid steps forward to tease him and make him wait. By the time you reach him, the air is thick, heavy around you and filled with the sound of your breathing. It’s sticky against your skin, pressing on your bodies and making it harder to focus. It feels like fog. It feels like love.

On instinct, you reach your arms around his neck while his lift from his pockets to wrap around your waist. Pulling you closer, he rests his forehead against yours, eyelids fluttering, as his hands drift down the small of your back to your ass. He cups your cheeks firmly, squeezing them with vigor, before lifting you as though you are weightless and you move to wrap your legs around his waist.

For a while, he holds you like this, sharing your breath and smelling you as his hardness rests beneath the thin barrier of fabric by your folds. Eventually, he inches his mouth forward, capturing your lips in a slow, heated kiss that sends electricity down your spine. Fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, you moan into his mouth and he laughs into yours, deep, mischievous, and knowing. His tongue fights you for dominance, thrusting against and into your mouth with a rhythm you’ve come to recognize as possessive.

He gets like this, you know, needy and ravenous for you when he’s been on edge for too long, and making him into a beastly, fiendish sort of thing. Not your shy, gentle Nini but a man who wants nothing more than to mark you, claim you, parade you as his.

Part of you thinks it’s because you had gone so long missing each other’s signals that, now that he has you, he refuses to let you misunderstand how he feels. Part of you thinks it’s because he’s making up for lost time, trying to bury every piece of himself within you, right down to your soul. All of you knows it’s because this is how he loves you, completely and with all of himself, and he doesn’t know how to stop himself from trying to merge your bodies into one, right down to the marrow of your bones.

‘How do you want me?’ you whisper, breaking away from the kiss and smiling at the string of saliva that grows between your separation.

‘Any way you want, baby,’ he says, running his nose along your cheek and exhaling into your skin, tracing kisses down to your jaw.

You shake your head, leaning away from him to run your tongue along the base of his neck up to his ear. ‘Be specific,’ you murmur coyly, before placing a chaste kiss on the lobe.

A moan rumbles out of his chest, vibrating against your body like thunder, before hitching upward into a whine. Pride swells in your chest, gleeful that you’ve turned him into a simpering, desperate thing, something completely willing to bend to your will.

‘I want you on the kitchen table,’ he grunts, glancing sidelong to the object in question. ‘So that every time you eat, you remember the way I fucked you until you were full.’

At his words, your hips buck forward into his, head falling forward to his shoulder to release a sigh. You cling to him a little tighter as he walks you over to the kitchen, his hands still firmly on your ass and his heartbeat racing alongside yours. Already, you are dizzy with desire and devotion, fragments of your synapses springing to life to make their longing known.

Placing you on the table, you hiss as the cold wood makes contact with the hot flesh of your thighs, but he doesn’t give you long to adjust. Laying you flat on your back, he’s over you within seconds, mouth buried in the crook of your neck where he takes to biting and marking you. His hands, which feel as though they were everywhere at once, reach between you to pull apart the knot of your robe, letting it fall open and exposing you to him.

He rears back just for a second to take the sight of you in, your hands needy and reaching for him to pull him back down. Jongin simply shakes his head, lips parted in awe as he looks at you, breasts revealed to him and nipples hard from the cool air; the arousal pulsing through your veins. There’s love in his eyes, love and admiration and relief - relief that you are his, relief that he has you, relief that he wasn’t too late. The sight of it all makes your spread legs slide up along his hips, where your heels press into his back to pull him back down. Stronger than you, he fights you, not ready to let this vision go.

‘You have no fucking clue how gorgeous you are, Duchess,’ he announces, his tone implying it isn’t a question or a statement, merely just a feeling he ruminates on regularly.

His praises fill you with delight and soak your center more than you care to admit, eyes closing and back arching to offer more of yourself to him.

‘I’ll never get my fill of you.’

Opening your eyes to smirk at him, you cock your head to the side innocently. ‘But you haven’t even had me yet.’

This seems to invigorate him, makes him plant his hands to your hips and growl.

‘These are coming off,’ he says, fingers sliding beneath the band of your underwear and pulling them down. You lift your hips to help him, laughing as you watch him throw the fabric to the side of the room as if their very existence offends him.

Dragging a chair over with his foot, he sits down and grips your ass, pulling you to the edge of the table in one firm tug.

He nudges your thighs further apart with his cheek, urging you to spread your legs wide for him, before he plants wet kisses to the sensitive skin. You mewl at the contact, hands pressing into the wood of the table and clit already throbbing in protest of being ignored.

‘Nini, touch me. Finger me. Do something, please.’

‘I’m nothing if not giving,’ he whispers above your folds, breath tickling you and making you moan in pleasure.

Jongin takes his time licking you, sliding his tongue along your slit before twirling delicately over your clit. Jongin takes his time, but it makes your senses completely unravel. By the time he takes two fingers to spread you apart, you think you could cry from the tension building in your thighs and stomach.

‘Fuck,’ you moan, feeling the firmness of his fingers and praising the sensation like you are worshipping the devil.

‘Soon,’ he breaths, and clamps his mouth over your clit, sucking with eagerness as though you are his dessert.

Your head falls back against the table, body writhing as he works his mouth over you. His tongue eases inside you, hot and warm and strong, stroking you as if the rule of your body was written by his hand. You lift your hips against him, trying to ride against his face, but his hands come to your hips and hold you down, keeping you at the whim of his will.

It takes all your effort not to clench your thighs around his head, and a keening whine escapes your throat as you feel your orgasm building. Each stroke of his tongue is precise, deep and tender in a way that tells you he’s devouring you not just for himself, but so that you know what it feels like to be adored. And it’s this thought that edges you forward, pushes you close to a wave of bliss, and makes your walls clench eagerly around his tongue.

It is this thought and this feeling, of the tightening of you around his mouth, that makes him pull away.

Part of you thinks you should be ashamed of the desperate wail that erupts from your chest at the loss, but the thought dies the moment you see the way his mouth glistens with your wetness. His face is coated, covered, dripping over his full lips, and he looks impish in the way he holds himself. Slowly, teasingly, he runs his wrist and forearm over his mouth, wiping your juices over his skin before, with his eyes trained on you, he licks them clean with the flat of his tongue.

‘You taste like candy, baby,’ he says, sucking on the fingers that separated your folds. ‘And you’re mine.’

‘Jongin,’ you whine, ‘fuck me. Please.’

Jongin says nothing as he removes his shirt, simply watches you with curiosity as he slowly takes off his clothes. With his lean chest revealed, you lift yourself to rest on your elbows to admire the view. His skin looks like warm honey, body firm and a thin coat of sweat at the center of his chest. He’s flushed, warm and panting from the force of his arousal, and he’s yours. He’s yours.

His hands move to undo his trousers, and your hand reaches for your swollen, ignored clit, but he instantly clucks his tongue at the sight.

‘Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself.’

Furrowing your brow, you leave your hand on your hip, testing him. ‘Tell me why.’

‘Because I want you to see.’ In this, he is firm. Just like before, the last time he said these words to you, he is firm and it sends a shiver along your body. ‘I want you to see how fucking hard you’ve made me. No distractions.’

Wanting absolutely nothing more than to please him, you remove your hand from your body and rest it gently on the table. For Jongin, you are a pliant, malleable thing, compliant to his will and eager to do nothing for the rest of your eternity but please him. And so you recline into the wood, biting your lip and spreading your legs even wider in anticipation of his size.

‘Show me.’

Pulling a condom from his back pocket, he keeps it between his teeth as he drops his trousers to the floor, letting his erection stand tall and hard.

You cock an eyebrow at him. ‘No boxers?’

‘I wanted you to see,’ is his simple reply.

‘I’d rather feel.’

Tearing the condom wrapper, he makes a show of rolling it over his cock, slowly, tenderly, as he keeps his eyes trained on you.

You have questions, things you want to ask and say: why he chose tonight to take this step with you, why he thought tonight was a night where he didn’t have to be careful, but you choose to keep quiet. Having him like this, unabashed and dominant in his own way, possessive and worshipping you completely, you think the questions really don’t matter. The only thing that really matters is that he wants you. He wants you so badly he’s pink and hard and thick, quaking with desire and slowly letting his self-control dissolve.

The questions don’t matter. This, this moment, is the only thing that matters.

He comes back to you, leaning over and taking your legs to wrap them around his back. You reach a hand between your bodies, lining him up with your entrance and closing your eyes at the sensation of his tip toying with your wet slit.

‘Tell me what you want,’ he says softly, leaving kisses along your collarbone.

‘I want you.’ You cup his face between your hands, running your thumbs along the high bones of his cheeks, and humming happily at the way he leans into your palm.

‘Say it.’

‘I want you to fuck me.’

‘How do you want me to fuck you?’ he asks, easing himself into you slowly.

‘Fuck me so hard I can’t walk.’

‘Anything for the Duchess.’

Time for teasing fully at an end, Jongin obeys your command like he is little more than your servant. He gives you no warning that he means to move, and instead buries himself in you to the hilt in one fluid thrust that has your head tipping back as a cry of pleasure tears through you. With your throat exposed to him, he brings his lips to its center where he sucks the skin, nipping with his teeth as he sets a rhythm that has your table creaking with the strain.

Your arms clutch at his shoulder blades, legs wrapping tightly around him to keep him as close to you as possible, wanting to burn with him, intensely and brightly, until you both are nothing but ash.

‘Fuck, you’re so tight,’ he moans, breaking from your wet skin. ‘Never in my dreams did I think you’d feel this good.’

You want to reply, but you can’t, the feel of his hips moving within you, deep and piercing, has your walls already clenching in pleasure. You lift your hips in time with his, working with him through every motion, and at one hard, penetrating thrust he slaps his hand to the table and chokes out a whine.

‘Jongin, shit -’

‘I’m not gonna last, baby’ he breathes into your shoulder, hips maintaining their powerful movements and starting to add in circular movements to keep you on edge.

‘You’re so fucking thick, shit Nini.’ Your fingers toy with his hair, sweaty and thick, fisting there to pull his face up to look at you. ‘Harder.’

His eyes roll back into his head at the words, hands leaving your body to grip your hips as he picks up the pace. This was how you wanted him, rough, fierce, claiming ownership of your body in every way possible. He wanted you to see how he loved you, but you always wanted to feel him.

It doesn’t take long for your body to tense, your thighs aching and walls clenching around him in pleasure. The telltale weightlessness was starting in your chest, spreading along your body and making your breath quicken.

‘Fuck, Nini -’

‘You gonna come, baby?’ he asks, lightly, playfully, as if he couldn’t tell. The sound of it makes you buck your hips in desperation.

Words die on your tongue, half-formed and barely coherent. All you manage is a low, keening whine.

‘Come for me, baby. I bet you’re fucking pretty when you come.’

To help you, he places strong fingers over your clit and starts rubbing in circles. Cock still pounding into you with hard, rough thrusts, your orgasm bursts through your chest with almost no notice. Sudden and intense, your thighs tighten, almost painfully, your hands and nails gripping into Jongin’s shoulders hard enough to leave marks. For you, this was a great unraveling, a blind white light of release that had your body shivering in his hold, walls trying to milk him clean with the force of their tension.

‘Shit - shit -’

Jongin’s hips become erratic as he comes, eyes fluttering closed and mouth dropping open in bliss. You thought he’d be loud, noisy and vocal in the wake of his love, but instead he is silent. Silent as though in prayer, you take this moment to watch him, smiling at the way he empties himself and delivers himself to pleasure as though he were delivering himself to heaven.

Hands stroking his face as he comes down, you watch him with a small smile as you both work through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

Eventually, he opens his eyes, reverting back to your shy Nini and looking at you with pure love.

‘Did you see?’ he whispers.

‘I saw.’

You saw.

You saw, and you felt.

#kai x reader #kai smut #kpoptrashtag #kwriterskollection #jongin smut #jongin x reader #kim jongin #exo au #kai au #kai scenarios #exo smut #kai fanfic #kai fanfiction #jongin fanfic #jongin fanfiction #exo scenarios #exo fanfiction

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fadingflowerpolice-blog1 · 4 years

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GoolMal

Golmaal is a progression of Indian satire films coordinated by Rohit Shetty and delivered first by Dhillin Mehta and later by Shetty and Sangeeta Ahir. All the four movies featured Ajay Devgn, Arshad Warsi and Tusshar Kapoor, with Shreyas Talpade showing up in three and Kareena Kapoor and Kunal Khemu showing up in two of the four movies. The principal film Golmaal: Fun Unlimited was discharged in 2006, the second film Golmaal Returns was discharged in 2008. The third film Golmaal 3 was discharged in 2010 and turned into the second-most elevated netting Bollywood film of that year. GoolMal

The fourth portion of this arrangement Golmaal Again, discharged on the event of Diwali on 20 October 2017.

Golmaal is presently the 6th most noteworthy earning film arrangement in Bollywood. The film arrangement has been portrayed as a screwball satire franchise.

This is the fifth Indian film establishment to have four portions after CID 999 Franchise, CBI Franchise, Major Mahadevan Franchise and Raaz Series.

A vivified form of the film arrangement named Golmaal Junior was discharged for with three focal characters: Madhav, Gopal and Lucky.

The title is a portmanteau of the names of four of the characters from the primary film, Gopal, Lucky, Madhav and Laxman.All the movies star Ajay Devgn, Arshad Warsi and Tusshar Kapoor as Gopal, Madhav and Lucky. All the movies are reboots of one another.

All the movies star Ajay Devgn, Arshad Warsi and Tusshar Kapoor as Gopal, Madhav and Lucky. All the movies are reboots of one another.

Laxman is a canny understudy who is redirected from doing admirably in school by his fiendish band of companions Gopal, Madhav and Lucky. Fortunate is a quiet in the film. The three companions utilize Laxman's inn space for their mischiefs. The wicked foursome at that point discovers shelter in the lodge of a visually impaired couple, Somnath (Paresh Rawal) and Mangala (Sushmita Mukherjee), who are hanging tight for their grandson

A wait-and-see game unfurls as Laxman's body and Gopal's voice make up Sameer. Each time the visually impaired Dadaji comes in the midst of them, amusing circumstances emerge. Enter Nirali (Rimi Sen), the saucy young lady nearby, and the gathering currently have time, spot and 'assets' to begin to look all starry eyed at. Their individual endeavors at winning the woman's heart come up short. Aside from their passionate advantages, there is a mission for shrouded treasure in the old couple's home. There is likewise a hoodlum named Babli who needs to take from the couple's cabin. Every one of his endeavors are inadvertently and unwittingly frustrated by the foursome.

Gopal (Ajay Devgn) lives with spouse Ekta (Kareena Kapoor), who is dependent on watching cleanser dramatizations. He likewise lives with sister Esha (Amrita Arora) who is infatuated with exploring official Madhav, and a quiet brother by marriage Lucky (Tusshar Kapoor). Fortunate is enamored with a hard of hearing young lady named Daisy (Anjana Sukhani). One night, while coming back from his office, Gopal spares an appealing young lady named Meera (Celina Jaitley) from some feared goons. Because of the conditions, them two choose to go through the night at Gopal's companion's yacht.

At the point when he shows up home the following day, his over-dubious spouse associates him with playing around with his female representatives and having an unsanctioned romance with his secretary. Realizing that it is so hard to persuade her with reality, he creates a tale about going through the night with an invented companion named Anthony Gonsalves. Ekta gets dubious and doesn't accept his story as she realizes that he never had a companion by that name and, henceforth, she chooses to keep in touch with Anthony to visit her and to affirm Gopal was coming clean.

Gopal meets Laxman Prasad (Shreyas Talpade) who has come to meet for a situation in his office. He is Meera's beau, which isn't known to Gopal who requests that he claim to be Anthony, and meet and persuade Ekta that he was for sure coming clean, as an end-result of a vocation. Laxman consents to do as such, and everything works out as expected until the location on which Ekta had composed a letter to Anthony ends up being genuine. In the mean time, Gopal discovers that a dead body was found at a similar area where he spared Meera from the goons. Examining Officer Madhav (Arshad Warsi), who likewise happens to be Esha's beau, doesn't coexist with Gopal.

He discovers that Gopal was absent from his home that very night and that the dead individual was Gopal's associate whom he had taken steps to slaughter over a disagreement. Madhav additionally discovers that Laxman isn't the genuine Anthony. Madhav is extremely dubious to Gopal and regularly blames him in front for his significant other, Ekta. He asks Gopal to get Meera to the police headquarters to demonstrate that Gopal had been with her, and didn't kill his worker. In alarm, his companions employ a lady called Munni (Ashwini Kalsekar) who needs cash to get her sweetheart Vasuli (Mukesh Tiwari) out of prison. However, Munni is captured by the killer.

In a fierceness, Vasuli goes to Meera's home, where Laxman and Lucky become familiar with the lady was as a matter of fact Meera whom Gopal had spared from the goons that night. After an underlying stun, they choose to go to the police headquarters. Be that as it may, Vasuli grabs Meera out of resentment, and they tail him, alongside Madhav, Esha and Ekta close by. Gopal discovers this was a plot devised by his boss, Sawant (Murali Sharma) to outline him for the homicide. The dramatization develops, as everybody endeavors self destruction, causing Sawant a deep sense of outrage. At long last, Sawant goes insane and murders himself. Ekta and Gopal reunite at long last.

Fortunate then weds the little girl of the leader of Gopal's organization who happens to be Daisy and turns into the new chief, giving a stun to the others. Gopal and Laxman are the lesser managers while Madhav is a 24-hour monitor for Lucky.

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bookwyrmshoard · 6 years

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My Most Anticipated Books of 2018

FANTASY & SF:

Tempests & Slaughter (Tamora Pierce) I’ve been waiting for the first book in the Numair Chronicles for literally years. If you’re a Tamora Pierce fan, you already know why. If you’re not, go read her Tortall books right now! (Feb. 6, 2018)

Spinning Silver (Naomi Novik) Novik rocks, whatever she writes. If this YA fantasy, which seems to be a retelling of Rumplestiltskin, is even half as good as Uprooted, it should be terrific.

The Hills Have Spies (Mercedes Lackey) Lackey has been a bit inconsistent for a while now, but I still have a strong affection and loyalty to her Valdemar series. I think this book, which begins the Family Spies series-within-a-series, continues the tales of Mags and Amily begun in The Collegium Chronicles and The Herald Spy trilogy. (May 5, 2018)

The Calculating Stars (Mary Robinette Kowal) This book and its sequel, The Fated Sky (due out later in 2018) come before and expand upon Kowal’s award-winning short story, “The Lady Astronaut of Mars.” I loved Kowal’s alternate-historical-fantasy Ghost Talkers and her regency-fantasy Shades of Milk and Honey (review) so this should be great. (July 3, 2018)

The Girl with the Dragon Heart (Stephanie Burgis) A direct sequel to Burgis’s charming The Dragon with the Chocolate Heart (review), which I loved. Burgis describes this one as “Spies! Fairies! Delicious chocolate! – And a very human heroine who’s every bit as fierce as her dragon best friend.” (expected 2018; date not set; cover not available)

Tess of the Road (Rachel Hartman) Set in the same world and kingdom as Seraphina (review) and Shadow Scale, this book follows a new character, Tess, as she runs away from home disguised as a boy. Hartman is always terrific, so I have high expectations for this book. (Feb. 27, 2018)

MYSTERY:

Island of the Mad (Laurie R. King) The Mary Russell & Sherlock Holmes series is one of my favorite series in any genre, so the 15th book in the series is cause for celebration—particularly since we didn’t get one in 2017. (June 12, 2018)

A Treacherous Curse (Deanna Raybourn) Third in Raybourn’s Veronica Speedwell series featuring a strong, unconventional, and independent-minded Victorian heroine. I loved the first two books, and I’m looking forward to (hopefully) more resolution of Veronica’s past and of her relationship with her investigative partner, Stoker.

The Woman in the Water (Charles Finch) A prequel to Finch’s terrific historical mystery series featuring Victorian gentleman-detective Charles Lenox, The Woman in the Water goes back in time to recount Lenox’s first case: that of a fiendish serial killer. (Feb. 20, 2018)

Death and the Viking’s Daughter (Loretta Ross) I really enjoy this series, which falls under the “cozy” label but is a bit more realistic than many cozies, particularly because one of the two main characters is a veteran with PTSD and a disability due to damaged lungs.

ROMANCE & ROMANTIC SUSPENSE:

Someone to Care (Mary Balogh) The “widow” of a bigamous duke finds happiness in the fourth book in the Westcott series. Balogh is one of my favorite historical romance authors, and huzzah for older heroines!

Hello Stranger (Lisa Kleypas) Unfortunate cover aside (too much pink! And the dress is contemporary, not period), I love Kleypas’s historicals, and the Ravenels series has been a good one so far. This time around, England’s first female doctor meets her match in a former Scotland Yard detective who is also a Ravenel by-blow.

The Other Lady Vanishes (Amanda Quick) A sequel to last spring’s The Girl Who Knew Too Much(review), this mystery returns to 1930s Burning Cove, California, but introduces a new hero and heroine.

The First Time at Firelight Falls (Julie Anne Long) Fourth in the Hellcat Canyon series, all of which have been terrific.

HONORABLE MENTION:

Fire and Heist (Sarah Beth Durst) – were-dragons; heist novel; YA

Skyward (Brandon Sanderson) – YA SF

Kill the Farm Boy (Delilah S. Dawson & Kevin Hearne) – humorous fantasy

Circe (Madeline Miller) – about the mythological Greek goddess/sorceress

The Rose Legacy (Jessica Day George) – MG fantasy

#2018 books #most anticipated books 2018 #2018 fantasy #2018 sci-fi #2018 romanc #2018 mystery #bookwyrm's hoard

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piano-wars · 5 years

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Chris & Heather called me several months ago to hire Piano Wars! to provide live and DJ entertainment and emcee services at their wedding ceremony and reception. They were married last Saturday, June 1st, 2019 at one of our favorite venues, Fenton Winery & Brewery, in Fenton, Michigan.

During the late morning, and even while I was setting up our equipment for the indoor reception, the area experienced fierce thunder, striking very close by. Miraculously, the fireplace patio (where the FWB hold their outdoor ceremonies) cleared up in time for Heather & Chris to be married outdoors. A few hours later, with everyone safe inside, rain returned and began pelting down, so the rain’s timing couldn’t have been much better.

The bride requested some of her favorite music to be played during the cocktail hour, including “I Want You To Want Me” (the awesome Kay Hanley / Letters to Cleo version), Tenderness (General Public), and Bizarre Love Triangle (New Order). Although most of Heather’s music requests were for music from the 90s, she clearly had a lot of favorites from the 80s, too.

During dinner, Paul Bickel and I found that the bride and groom had left us each a little gift at our table settings — drinking glasses etched with a small keyboard and the words “Piano Man.”

One song the bride requested that we play during our live dueling pianos set was “If It Makes You Happy” by Sheryl Crow. Since singalong is what we do, that seemed like a great choice to me. She and her girlfriends belted out every single chorus from the dance floor.

While we entertained, two female guests danced kinetically on the dance floor, feeding off each other’s energy. It was very entertaining for everyone watching. Early in the night, I joked in the mic, “I’d like to hire you two as aerobics instructors.” They kept dancing, hollered back, “OK!,” and we all laughed. Then they said, “We’ll be out here all night.” (Which was good for our business of keeping the dance floor busy!)

After playing what our couple had chosen for their last song of the night, we still had a little time left, so I played the only remaining request on my piano, which was for “any song by Queen.” We sang Bohemian Rhapsody, which has seen a resurgence in popularity since the recent movie about the band was released. While singing the opening lines, I got one of my fiendish and silly ideas to customize the last two words of the intro for our guests of honor:

“Any way the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to me... _______ski.”

I had inserted their new shared last name.

Congratulations, Chris & Heather!

“We just wanted to take a moment to thank you guys for everything! The whole day went smoothly and was perfect. We got so many compliments about how great the entertainment was and our guests had a great time!” —Heather & Chris

#PianoWars.com #Piano Wars!#Dueling Pianos Wedding Entertainment #Dueling Pianos Reception Entertainment #Wedding Reception Entertainment #Detroit Dueling Pianos #Fenton Winery & Brewery Wedding Entertainment

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lordkankai67 · 7 years

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Session 1

Hi there everyone! Today I bring you my write up of session one, where the players face a powerful enemy and learn what they are up against. Let’s get started by meeting our heroes.

Earendil- Earendil is a fallen aasimar paladin who lost his way and his oath to the Platinum Dragon after being tortured by a powerful black dragon with unusual features for two years. After breaking free, Earendil vowed revenge against any dragon he could kill, no matter the cost.

Lila- a protector aasimar cleric in service to Bahamut, Lila is devoted to protecting and helping the innocent people of Toril, using powerful divine magic to shield her comrades. Lila does her best to reign in her twin brother Earendil, making sure that his thirst for revenge doesn’t cost them both their lives.

Northius- A drow raider from one of Menzoberranzan’s noble houses, Northius was left behind after a raid to the surface was repelled, leaving him to the mercy of the sun and his former victims. He was spared on the condition he devote his life to the greater good and the ways of Illmater, and was taken in by the monks at the Monastery of the Yellow Rose. Trained in the martial arts and learning how to use his ki to influence the elements around him, he set out to see the world and put his skills to the test.

Sinnafae- a member of the Luminian race, a rare breed of elves with a connection to the moon goddess Selune, Sinnafae is well versed in almost any subject you can name. As a Lore Master wizard, Sinnafae can twist the Weave to her desires, substituting elements and modifying ranges. She will put her powers to the test on this journey, fighting to keep her compatriots safe.

Z3-R0- perhaps the most unusual member of the party, Z3-R0 is a Warforged assembled by a master smith and artificer from Vaasa. Thorn Blackforge, the smith, created Zero (as he came to be called) to fill a void left by the death of his family. Treating the construct as his own son, Zero soon learned the ways of the artificer, blending magic and technology seamlessly to create useful items and powerful weapons. Sadly, Thorn was poisoned by a jealous rival, and used his last word to tell Zero to “find his son.” Zero took this to mean he had a flesh and blood brother, and set off to find him. Armed with his trusty Thunder Cannon and mechanical allosaur Razorjaw, Zero set out to fulfill his primary objective.

The adventure begins with our party on the way to Heliogabalus, capital city of Damara. Traveling in their own wagon, several of them noticed the sounds of a scuffle up ahead, and Northius spotted a few winged figures fleeing into the clouds. Preparing themselves for trouble, the party soon came across the scene of a battle; a broken wagon lay in the center of the road, with several corpses all around. Six men at arms lay slaughtered, along with a elderly dwarf with snowy white hair and sunburned skin. Earendil and Northius were able to determine the victims were slain by claws rather than blades, and Sinnafae identified scorch marks on the ground as places where devils were slain and returned to the Nine Hells. Zero made a peculiar discovery, a silvery metal leg, broken clean through at mid-thigh that resembled his own construction in some ways. A thick trail of blood led to the top of a small hill, and Lila immediately set off to see if she could aid whoever left it, the rest of the group following their friend. At the base of the hill, they found a most unusual sight-a one legged man determinedly dragging himself along the road with a clawed hand. The man appeared to be an old human, who had one side completely replaced with metal. Although Lila wished to help him, sadly he was leaving bits of entrails on the ground behind him and was not long for the world. The man said his name was Dorn, and told the group he and his party were attacked by devils, seeking a Harper agent named Kara, who fled while he and the others fought, soon becoming overwhelmed. Coughing up blood, he asked them to help Kara, and to tell her that he was sorry he could not protect her better. Having delivered his message, Earendil drew Hyrm and gave Dorn the gift of mercy, as the group quickly set out for a nearby village to find this Kara girl and help- after Zero harvested Dorn’s metal parts for further study and use.

Upon reaching the village, the adventurers noticed the lack of normal village sounds. Earendil and Lila reached out with their divine senses, feeling an overwhelming sense of fiendish evil radiating from the village square. Proceeding cautiously, the twins were soon accosted by two white scaled monsters with bestial features, wings, and stinger tails. Sinnafae’s knowledge let her identify the attackers as abishai, devils in service to Tiamat herself. Quickly launching into battle, the group was able to slay the abishai without too much difficulty, rounding the corner to take in the scene before them- slaughtered villagers on the ground, three black abishai, and an enormous white dragon giving instructions. Upon seeing a hated draconic foe, Earendil launched himself at the opponent, the rest of the party scrambling to follow. Laughing at the audacity, the white called himself the Old White Death, and released a wave of magical fear at his enemies, causing Zero and Razorjaw to halt their rush until they could shake off the effects. The battle intensified; Lila, Razorjaw and Sinnafae slew the abishais, while Northius briefly fell to the white’s frosty breath, only to be swiftly revived by Lila. Sinnafae soon realized their opponent was not a typical dragon, and threw a Fireball, manipulating the fabric of the spell and replacing the fire with radiant energy. The attack badly hurt the dragon, and Earendil pressed his advantage, infusing Hyrm with divine energy and lashing out. Their foe stood defiant, and prepared to breathe his deadly cold once more, until the players heard a fierce battle anthem ring out, healing them all for 30 points. A slim dragon with beautiful, iridescent blue scales plunged from the sky onto the white, breathing a cone of crackling gas onto the Old White Death head, finally killing him.

In the aftermath of the fight, the dragon shifted to the form of a beautiful human female and identified herself as the song dragon Karasendrieth, also known as Kara. She thanked the group for assisting her, but grew sad when told that her party had died in battle with the devils. She told the group she had vital information for the temple of Bahamut, and requested they help escort her to the capital. After enticing Earendil with the promise of gold, the party agreed, and returned to their wagon, setting out for Damara after Kara gave her companions a proper burial. Upon reaching the capital, the party was escorted into the temple, and met with Kara and her superior Azhaq, a commander of the Talons of Justice, a paladin-like group formed by good dragons. Azhaq warmly thanked the heroes for their aid, and paid them both for their help and the information they then provided on the battle. He identified the white as Arauthator, a name that pricked Northius’ memory- the dragon had been slain almost a year or more ago by a monk from the Yellow Rose. Azhaq agreed, and told the party the mission Kara had been on was gathering information on the Consorts of Tiamat- five chromatic dragons who are the mates of the Dragonqueen, who had infused their souls with infernal power and returned them to Toril in mortal bodies. Although Tiamat was blocked from the Material Plane by another party of brave adventurers (at the end of the Rise of Tiamat module) it seems like she isn’t giving up that easily, and will make one more attempt to return her godly body to the realm and take over the Material Plane.

Although the Consorts are powerful, Kara revealed she had discovered their weakness- the consorts are vulnerable to holy energy, and do not return to the Hells upon death- once they are killed on the Prime, they’re dead for real. Azhaq said that the Platinum Dragon had foreseen these adventurers and considered them key in thwarting his sister’s evil plans, and Azhaq asked them to help them hunt down the consorts. Lila, a cleric of Bahamut, instantly agreed, and Earendil was eager to take the opportunity to slay more dragons. Northius and Sinnafae were eager to test their powers on a true quest, and Zero agreed if Azhaq would assist him in his primary objective.

After their agreement, Azhaq brought them to a large chamber, where he assumed his true form of a massive silver dragon. He breathed a fresh, cold blast of air over the group, granting each of them unique powers in the name of Bahamut. Lila received the ability to shield herself from the power of a dragon’s breath, while Sinnafae could evoke the power of it, as well as summon draconic allies in battle. Northius could draw elemental power to his fists, while Earendil’s blade dealt double damage against Consorts and abishai, as well as striking harder against dragons. And Zero was presented with a box of parts that he discovered he could assemble into a mechanical dragon companion. Azhaq also offered to tutor any of the group in advanced techniques of draconic magic- the Dragon Touched prestige class. After bestowing the rewards upon the group, Azhaq sent them to quarters and bade them good night- except for Earendil, who insisted on a private audience with the silver. Earendil undid his armor, showing the paladin the horrific acid scars that decorated is body. He demanded answers from the dragon about the one who did this to him, and Azhaq informed him that the black that had earned his hatred was none other than Thauglorimorgorus the Purple, the Terror of Cormyr himself. Thauglorimorgorus was also a Consort of Tiamat, and was working to conquer the forest kingdom for his queen. Azhaq cautioned Earendil against blind and burning revenge, and suggested that Bahamut still had faith in him. Earendil didn’t seem to care that much, leaving the temple to stay at an inn, uncomfortable in the holy place of his forsaken god (unbeknownst to him though, Azhaq had paid for the room.”

And that ends session one! Now our heroes know what they are facing, and are starting to learn more about the true scope of their quest. Luckily they aren’t alone, and have been uniquely gifted to combat their enemies. I can’t wait to play again and see what the future holds!

DM NOTES

If you’ve read the Year of Rogue Dragons Trilogy by Richard Byers, you’ll probably be mad at me for killing off Dorn and Rayn. Sorry bout that… but at least Kara is still alive! Hopefully she’ll have more of a role to come.

Several of my players are using homebrew or Unearthed Arcana options. Sinnafae is a Lumninan elf, found here (https://dnd-5e-homebrew.tumblr.com/post/147697395853/luminian-race-by-geekfirelabs), and Northius is playing a modified version of a Four Elements monk that I’ll post when I find the proper link. Zero is a Warforged Artificer, Lila is a Protector Cleric, Earendil is multi-classing into Hexblade Warlock, and Sinnafae a Lore Master Wizard, all which can be found in the UA material from Wizard of The Coast. I found stats for 5e abishais here (https://rpggeek.com/rpgitemversion/320074/pdf-version-next.) Finally, Kara’s stats came from here (http://imgur.com/a/C4qnH). All credit for these races and classes goes to WoTC and the wonderful hombrewers who made them!

I need to learn to be more mobile with my main opponents. It’s a weakness of mine that led to Arauthator dying quicker than I thought, and I’ll have to get a bit better

I’ll do a more thorough Meet the Players after everyone finalizes their backstory; I’m already thinking of ways to weave everyone in.

I’ll try to put up the Dragon Touched prestige class, the Blessings of Bahamut, and Arauthator’s profile up soon. Until next time, see you!

#dnd 5e #dungeons and dragons #homebrew #tabletop

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