A Unique 3D Morrigan YouTube

An interesting series of 3D Morrigan figurines that I found on YouTube this time on the Tale. I’ve always found the interpretations of Morrigan to bring different aspects of her character and form, this video being a unique tangent to see.

If you cannot see this video on the Tale, please try this link.

Here’s a screenshot of the model of Morrigan as well.

Morrigan Aensland by Damien Dozias

Morrigan Aensland by Damien Dozias

You’ll have to watch the entire short video to see some of the different outfits Morrigan is seen in. That said, this is a somewhat more mature look for Morrigan overall I think, It’s different and gives a quite unique look to her. The shift in her look I thought brought an aspect of Morrigan that I really haven’t seen. Just something different to share and I think that’s wonderful.


Warm Remembrance by TeraS

It is November 11th, which means, at 11 am today, a story is meant to appear. For this year it is a …

Warm Remembrance
By TeraS

The weather is unseasonably warm this year. We expect that at this point on the calendar the skies will be grey, the winds brisk. They would bring the cold of November to chill those who gather on this day.

It seems somehow odd, perhaps not right, whatever that word might be referring to. We should expect to be bundled against the frost and freeze, the snow and ice. Again, there is that feeling of it feeling wrong somehow to behold this weather for this gathering.

Scarves give way to sunglasses meant for warmer moments in the year prior. Long coats are passed over for lighter windbreakers for some, sweaters for others. The heat cast off from the sun is surprising in how it manages to take the edge off the cool; there’s a reminder of the summer past in that. Again, there comes the feeling that perhaps it’s not right to be thinking of that in this moment.

The gathering this year matters a bit more. Last year, we remembered alone more than together. Those we honoured seemed that bit further away. Those that we saw many times before are lessened with the passing of another year, another life, another memory stilled. The fingers of fate and time past, present, and future bide their time as they eternally do.

Still, the leaves turned colour, falling from the maple trees onto the neatly trimmed grasses surrounding those who gather here. The red leaves swirled in the winds for weeks before, being sent here and there, scattering them to bring colour to the green below and the white obelisk which marks the centre point of the gathering this year.

It stands in this place alone much of the time. Being part of the world that the statue carved into the leading face can see at a distance, but not close enough that it might, if it could, hear the lives that pass by on the other side of the iron fence protecting this place of honour. The white marble is carved carefully to bring into focus a far-too-young man, his posture straight and true, eyes cast over the marker plates buried into the grass to mark resting places of honour.

He stands in place as those left behind to remember file by, time and age making their bodies ache. Some march with purpose, others stand or are positioned to watch the ceremonies unfold. The cold does not come to them this year, being held at arm’s length for a time, no matter how short that well be. They think about the past that was, the purpose they had, the results of their labours, and all that beyond. The warm weather brings memories of being young, seeking adventure in the spring, the experience of the summers, falls, and winters until their work was done.

The sun shines brightly as the speeches are made, the words telling of gratitude and thanks never said well or fully. It’s a ripple of time mixing with the lives left in the past and those that who continue onwards till they meet their comrades once more. Perhaps it’s the glare of the sun, or it might be the wind that tosses hair, moves jackets, causes ribbons to flutter and flags to snap to attention.

From time to time, those being honoured look across to the cenotaph, and something flickers across their weathered visages. It’s hard to describe the expression. : A a wry smile perhaps is the best explanation; something that only those few can understand, for the experience can never be truly explained fully.

The weather has brought a warm remembrance, the recollection of those days long ago when they were young, their voices strong, their hearts brave. We are unable to resolve what their mind’s eyes see in the glare of the sunbeams behind the one standing vigil in marble. A moment in time, not frozen but glowing with the lives remembered by those who do; forever young in their moment, looking across the years in return, visages of those who are connected in their fellowship eternal.

A Heart’s Place by TeraS

Today is my heart’s birthday. That really doesn’t say anything close to how much it means to be able to say the words. I’m unsure if I could ever express fully what him being there means. Sometimes we just can’t find better words than to explain there is …

A Heart’s Place
By TeraS

There is no greater gift than the first hello.

From the smallest of words, something is planted. Perhaps tentative in their nature, the words themselves are sometimes collected to point towards the greater things to be. They become the tapestry woven into the moments that bring with them a settling of one’s soul. It is knowing that the words matter, they are not just the words themselves.

It cannot, however, be expressed simply as the words themselves do. Yes, they communicate across the space between, the fence by which the hellos were first spoken is but a trifle for the words themselves to cross over. Understanding begins with a single word, it opens the mind, soul, and heart to things they know of, but never expected to have reflected. Those reflections are considerations, ideas, expressions of delight in the telling of the words; not of what they are meant to be, but rather what they could well be.

I can recall the first hello shared, the connection in that moment. I remember the first time we said hello: the conversation, and the moment when the world called and we said our till-next-times. Perhaps Goddess had a hand in the words, the greeting shared and the see-you-soons.

How wondrous it was to know the words where right, would always be. The hello being the same with each meeting by the fence shared, the closing words being right as they were meant to be. The telling of what had been in the day, the thoughts about the here and now, the possible future that might be. The better things shared with a smile, those somewhat less so expressed too.

It’s the telling of these moments which bring one heart to another. The giving of one’s own self to another who is there to listen to the flaws within. This is not simply the telling of things as they are. It’s more of offering thought expressed and where that leads the conversations.

Call it a place wherein the heart dwells, listening, considering, offering, and that brings the comfort and familiarly sought. What follows is the joy in the time given and received, the stories told and the wonders shared. Most of all comes the promise of tomorrow and the tomorrows to be. It is that which matters most, is cherished in the moments between. Knowing the first gift was followed by the next and others beyond still to be.

There is no greater gift than the next hello.

Succubi Image of the Week 770

In the Realm universe there is a particular angel who a particular red-tailed Queen of the Realm calls her Angel Love. I mention this because this week’s Image, while not about that particular pair, reminds me of then, their love and more…

True Love by Shimeri

True Love by Shimeri

This work of love and passion is by the artist Shimeri on DeviantArt and you can find the original page here.

There’s many things that I could muse about, their expressions, the way they are posed together. The lovely detail in the work itself. But really it’s a reminder, at least to me, of two souls in love regardless of all else in the presence of Goddess…


It’s cute, but there’s a catch

Women's Devilicious Gossamer Corset Costume
Occasionally I find a costume that’s cute. It might not be the most amazing thing ever, but if it gets away from being trashy, that’s a plus. But even with something trying to be good, there’s something that will make it a bit less so.

This is the Women’s Devilicious Gossamer Corset Costume and it comes with the corset dress and matching sleevelets, and the clip-on horns. The red fishnets and garters, which you would really need, along with the shoes, are not included and it sells for $40 US.

Overall this is cute, The horns, though they are clip on and I don’t really care for them, do work. The dress isn’t a complete mess and the addition of the armlets, stockings and shoes I think reveals that someone was actually looking to make this look attractive. Mind you the model is very cute, and she’s really making the entire outfit work. Most of all, no dreaded lousy pitchfork.

It’s a shame that everything, save the shoes, isn’t included. Really that’s the catch here, as it is with many costumes. But overall, the added expense I think would be worth it.

Three out of five pitchforks.

It’s a fun look which just takes things just slightly away from trashy and that’s something…


A Review of Succubus Rage by Thaddeus Black

Succubus Rage by Thaddeus Black

Succubus Rage by Thaddeus Black

It’s interesting to note the different mythos that authors create about succubi and incubi. Perhaps one the rarer concepts is that of their nature and what effects it has on what drives them to seek out what they need. In that need comes the realization of what they can do because of their physical abilities.

In that wildness within themselves there is a danger of course. It puts them on a knife edge which can be something so very passionate, but also so very dangerous as well.

  • Title: Succubus Rage
  • Author: Thaddeus Black
  • Published By: Amazon Digital Services
  • Length: 186 Pages
  • Format: eBook
  • Publishing Date: July 1, 2022
  • This work in Kindle Format at Amazon.com

The work tells of:

Jonnie just discovered what he was, he’s an Incubus, and it’s now it’s his job, to bond with a harem of Succubuses. It turns out not to be as easy as he had first hoped. Succubuses are the most powerful of the paranormals, and the bonding rage that they go through, incubuses are the only ones that can survive the violence of the bonding.

Jonnie has a problem, and it has everything to do with him being an incubus and all of the succubi that want a piece of him. It’s not all fun and games, and it’s going to be a pain in his ass, and other body parts, but it really can’t be all that bad, can it?

The work is mainly a harem adventure with some erotica. It’s very focused on Jonnie and through him the story is told. Overall, there is some heat that appears as each of the succubi appear. But there is a lot of violence which took away something from the overall heat and storytelling.

The concept behind the need that drives the succubi is interesting, the means to try to control it is quite unique. There are some points at which things get really out of hand and Jonnie suffers for it. It’s those parts of the story that just didn’t appeal to me. They aren’t really erotic and don’t care for a character being abused by others over and over. Yes there’s a point to it, but I just don’t care for the moments as a whole.

The work also uses succubuses and incubuses rather than succubi and incubi, which also kept taking me out of the story. The work could use an editing pass to clean up the dialogue and storytelling as well. It’s a bit odd, the dialogue seems lifeless at times and adding more emotional connections would have helped.

Two and a half out of five pitchforks.

I really couldn’t get into the story because of all of the abuse that Jonnie goes through. The story overall is interesting and has a unique mythos which has its appeal. Perhaps more time spent in the details of the relationships, of the succubi beyond what’s told could have made this a lot better than it is. I understand why there’s the focus as it is, but it doesn’t appeal as much as I wanted it to.


Gongshow – Part VII by TeraS

Tina’s story travels a bit further along the path this time on the Tale. We’ll eventually get where things are going, but before we can do so there’s a stop along the way that needs to be made. After all, you should know where to turn when everything is becoming a …

Gongshow – Part VII
By TeraS

For Justin, for always…

The Wicked One’s laughter faded away as Tina ran over hill and dale racing away from her. She didn’t dare stop or look behind until a fork in the golden cobblestone path that carried her far away from the castle brought Tina up short. Looking back, the young yellow-tail could just make out the tip of the tallest silver spire in the distance.

She’d managed to run away from that wicked silver-tail … and from Miriam. That really bugged her most of all. She knew what was going to happen to her cousin, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. She should have stayed no matter what Miriam told her, should have dragged her out of there with her … shoulda’ … woulda’ … coulda’ …

For the first time, Tina really understood what her brother, Lance, went through, and she didn’t like it at all. It sucked, and not in the way that her sister, Monica, had fun with. She kept running through what happened in her thoughts and tried to figure out some other way things could have gone. Frumping loudly, Tina found a patch of blue-green grass to rest and watched the clouds far above. She wished she’d been older. Then she woulda’ done something. The frustration was pushing Tina to march right back and save Miriam when she heard her great-grand-uncle’s voice: “Don’t be in a rush to get to your future. It’ll be there when you get there.

Sitting up, she looked all around for him, but all she saw was the fork in the road waiting for her and no sign of him. Sighing, her eyes fell upon the silver heels that kept tripping her up, and Tina yanked them off and threw them as hard as she could into the distance. Stupid things anyway–runners were so much better–and she had no idea how all of the other succubi managed to do things while wearing them.

Wiggling her sock-covered toes, she looked at the paths leading away and considered what she could do, not what she could have done. She had to think things through and find a way to save her cousin from that wicked silver-tail. Miriam had said to find Auntie Tera, but not how to do that exactly. She didn’t have a map of this place; she didn’t know where Auntie would be.

All she had was the two paths in front of her and where they might lead to. One path was sort of a black stone that curled off towards a dark and forbidding forest. The other was made of greyish stones and seemed to be going in the direction of a wooden rose-coloured bridge that passed over a wild river and whatever lay beyond that. Neither seemed that appealing, Tina thought. She wished that she remembered all of the fairy tales that Mom had told her years ago; there would be a clue there. On the edge of picking using “eeny meeny miny moe,” having no better idea, Miriam’s warning that this place was very stereotypical made the choice a simple one. Standing on her socks, Tina shook her yellow-tail out and made up her mind: “A bridge over troubled waters. That’s so stereotypical that Auntie has to be that way.”

Starting off, Tina quickly decided that getting rid of the cursed shoes might not have been the brightest thing she’d ever done. The stones weren’t exactly kind as she made her way, but the alternative was a worse one. She’d gotten halfway to the bridge when the sound of heels clicking on stones made her look over her shoulder. There, in the middle of the path, were the damned shoes … and they were getting closer by the second. Deciding to make a run for it, Tina rushed towards the bridge, hoping that somehow the shoes couldn’t follow her to the other side.

She’d just gotten halfway, the river roaring in her ears, when she stumbled and fell, skinning her knee. Curling up and wincing from the pain, she didn’t see the shoes jump into the air and land next to her and then pounced back on her feet. Rolling over, Tina went to pull them off again, but before she could do so, they glowed brightly and then shifted into silver ankle boots, without a zipper, too tall heels, and there was no way she was going to be pulling them off. The river and bridge were both treated to a long series of hockey curses that Tina had learned that, while not turning the air blue, certainly would have made her mom ground her for a week, maybe longer.

Close to tears, the young yellow-tail directed her anger at the boots she was stuck with and whined, “The only thing you’re going to do is make me break my neck!” Tina didn’t expect anything to happen–this was the Wicked One’s doing. But then she had a thought. Digging out that pain-in-the-tail of a hockey puck from her jean pocket, she slapped him against the boots in anger: “Gimme me a break and at least make it easier for me to walk!” The shift to wedge boots wasn’t exactly what Tina wanted, but this was better than the stupid point heels they’d been before.

Deciding not to press her luck, Tina got back on her feet and finished crossing the bridge before the path meandered it’s way to a house that made Tina stop and stare at for a long time: a red brick house, with red brick horns sticking out of the roof and a red brick tail poking out the side. There was no mistaking the red colour, either. There was only one succubi with that shade of red tail. It sort of made sense, in an Auntie sort of way, though. She loved her tail, red was always her colour, too. It was a really weird looking house that Tina was still trying to figure out when she heard a gaggle of giggles and ducked behind a shrub that was trimmed into the shape of a book, hiding her from view.

It wasn’t long before a group of young succubi and incubi appeared, rushing down the path which lead to the front door of the house. The hyperactive group all wore red jumpers, even if their tails and horns were all sorts of different colours. The group all milled around the front door, pointing at each other and trying to decide who was going to knock. Still peeking out from behind the shrub, Tina was surprised by a young voice: “Hi!” Turning about, Tina found a very young purple-tailed incubi looking up at her. Her gasp of surprise caught the attention of those nearby and it wasn’t long before those who had been playing around the door were now gathered around Tina, looking at her with big eyes and swishing tails.

A bit overwhelmed, Tina managed to wave her fingers: “Um … Hi.” The brave little purple tail waved shyly: “Hi! Are ya’ a Tailkin, too?” A blue-tailed succubi considered Tina and mused: “Nah, she’s too tall to be!” Tina felt a little bad about that: “I’m just a little older than you are! Doesn’t mean that I’m not!” What followed was the group of younger tails arguing among themselves if Tina really was or wasn’t before the door to the house opened and a very familiar voice carried to them all: “Come along, little Tailkins!”

Tina found herself carried along in the rush of tails running towards the achingly familiar figure who stood at the doorway holding a basket of cookies. It was Auntie Tera! That ebony hair, red tail, and those horns were unmistakable. Her clothes, however, were something that Tina would have never expected Auntie to ever wear. But the latex, of course, and red, of course, were her style. The rest of the look really wasn’t, though it was really familiar: the stockings, dress, and look were completely fairy tale story. Tina decided that her Auntie looked like Snow White’s older and sexier sister, which made sense, considering Auntie was sweet, kind, cheerful, and everything that the Wicked One wasn’t. Being placed front and centre by the Tailkins, Tina asked her not-quite Auntie: “Are you wicked?”

Tera giggled at the question before hugging Tina in such a familiar way: “I’m not wicked. I’m the Naughty One.

Wrapping her tail around her Auntie, Tina couldn’t argue with that. Auntie Tera was anything but wicked, no matter what.