#Fantastic Forest Fruits

[theblueflower05]

Mi Ti’ong(In Bloom)

A/N: Usually I try to keep my readers pretty ambiguous so that everyone can envision themselves, but this ones gonna be a little more distinct. If that isnt your jam, please dont read! No use of Y/N. Reader nicknamed Flora. Based on the character from Winx Club! And this art!

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: Size difference kink.Mature Language. Smut. Overstimulation. Oral sex(female receiving) Neteyams a munch, it’s canon now.

Summary: Neteyam can have anyone and yet he only wants you. A small human who can usually be found among the flowers. Neteyam x Human! Reader

Sugar, honey, iced tea. Bumble bee on the scene.

Yeah I’d give up my bakery to have a piece of your pie, ugh!

-See You Again, Tyler the Creator.

The forest is alive, the beating heart of Eywa felt in each and every leaf among the trees.

Every glowing piece of flora and fauna, every creature whose calls echo through the vastness.

This time of year is special and it's as though it is known. Deeply and primitively by all. The rains had come and gone, nearly a month of bruised skies that had bogged down the village and its daily life.

But as they always do the skies cleared, and the sun made its reappearance. Glittering and glimmering- triple rainbows breaking out in kaleidoscope like figurations. Beaming down with all of it’s warmth and vitality.

The earth is well fed and fertile, the soil rich and blooming with new life.

It’s that new life that brings the talioang(water buffalo like beasts) back. The creatures return in great migrations to the lush pastures of sweet new grasses to have their babies. The fish swim upstream, battling the roaring rivers, to spawn. The fruit hangs heavy and ripe in the trees. All around there is nothing but full bellies and joy.

This period of abundance is the Great Mother’s gift to her children.

It had always been Neteyam’s favorite time of the year.

Everything lush and bursting with life, the excitement a low constant hum amongst the tribe. The Great Hunt is coming and his father had given him the okay to take lead.

In his nineteen years, he had never been appointed with so much responsibility.

Jake tells him it will all be fine, nothing but easy smiles. This will be good. A fantastic way to show the clan that he’s ready to take on the title of Olo’eyktan once his father steps down. Although he manages to keep is calm and cool demeanor in public, he’s so fucking nervous he can barley function.

It’s why he’s here, trudging through the branches.

The village is buzzing with excitement. Everyone wants a moment of his time, their voices overlap as they wish him good luck.

Question his competence as head of the hunt.

Subliminally hint that hunters twice his age have never gotten the chance to do what has been so freely handed to him.

Remind him that their daughters are pretty. Unmated. Makes the best steamed Teylu. Are fertile and willing to give him strong children-

Fuck.

The moment he could, he’d slipped away. Disappeared into the foliage and had booked it deep into the trees, desperate for a moment alone. For a moment of silence and the peace of being away from prying eyes.

He doesn't even really know where he’s going.

Only that he just needs to be away. If only for an hour. He needs to recharge his ever draining social battery, to get his head on straight before tomorrow's hunt.

Neteyam has always performed his best under pressure.

Things that made others balk and cower ignited something in him. A need to fight. To prove himself- it’s not the prospect of high adrenaline and stampeeding hooves that makes him squirm. It’s all of the attention its garnering.

He know’s fully well that being the next Olo’eyktan means that attention comes with the territory. But that doesnt mean the thought of everyones focus on him doesnt make his indigo skin crawl.

He’s leaping aimlessly between vines when he remembers his sisters earlier proposition.

“Come with me and Flora to the watering hole today! The waterfalls are so pretty during this season- We’re going to go swimming!”

It’d been tempting this morning, and now it is even more so. He could use a dip in the cool waters and Kiri was always an ear to vent to when he got overwhelmed. He’d clear head and then leave-

He wouldn't get stuck staring at you.

Again,

No.

He can't pinpoint exactly when this happened.

It was like one night you were just another human at the Outpost. Another familiar alien face he’d grown up around. Just like Spider you’d stuck close with the Sully children. Your cheeks always flushed beneath your exo-mask and your fingernails always dirty and caked with mud from the hours and hours you’d spend tending to any and all plants that came in your line of vision. You were always so soft. Too soft for his liking sometimes. You’d cry at just about anything whether it be one of those old Tawtute movies the scientists played at the lab or the sight of an injured shimmyfly.

And then suddenly gone was that snotty, teary little girl he’d always known. And in her place was…you. A woman grown. Beautiful and bold- and there was strength in your softness now. You’d proved him wrong so many times- made it clear that you weren't another responsibility he’d have to shoulder-

“I can take care of myself, Neteyam” you’d insisted, never letting him carry your heavy baskets or tend to your scraped knees.

It’s maddening, the way that you shrug off any and all of his advances drives him fucking insane.

Neteyam approaches the secluded bank of the watering hole that his family loves best slowly, keeping in the treeline. Just out of sight. Just like he’d expected he finds you and Kiri on the familiar sands. Kiri is lounging in the sun, eyes closed and humming a pleasant tune to herself-oblivious to anything around her. He’d have to chastise her about her complete lack of situational awareness later.

You’re knee deep in the lake- tending to the water lilies that grow close to shore. Your back is to him but he bets your nose is all scrunched up, just like it always is when you’re around anything green and growing. His eyes drink you in greedily. All of your sun kissed skin is on display in the tiny faded pink panties you don for swimming.

He’d never found humans particularly pretty before you. The intense differences in their bodies had never appealed to him-

But Eywa, are you something to look at.

Time had been kind to you, and as you’d grown your body had morphed into something goddess like. You’re a real looker, his father had claimed. Would’ve been a total knockout back on Earth.

You’re all plush curves. Your breasts are pert and sit like rip hanging fruit on your chest, your hips wide and thighs jiggly and thick. And your waist…he’s sure if he put his much larger hands around them, his fingers could touch. He could cage you in his hold.

That thought has him biting his tongue, hard enough to taste metallic. You turn a bit, your laughter chiming over the glittering water like soft wind at some dry joke Kiri made.

Your hair color is light, lighter than any Na’vi’s and falls down around your shoulders in thick waves. He can only make out the side of your face but your full lips are pulled into a coy smile and your light jade eyes sparkle and all hell. Neteyam is so gone on you.

You’re like nothing he’s seen and definitely nothing he’s had.

And since his Iknimaya he’s had his first pick of the women of the clan.

He’s tasted passionate huntresses and flexible dancers alike and none of them satiate his thirst. None of them are able to replicate what he can only imagine you might taste like. It’s almost pathetic how many women he’s had and how many times he’s almost called out your name as he emptied his seed.

Neteyam’s more discreet about his romps than his brother, that’s for sure- but still. It’s a known fact that he’s an unmated male at his prime and that comes with a certain appetite. He can have anyone he wants, any Omatikayan woman would be glad to spend a night with him.

Yet somehow he’s lurking, hiding in the bush. Watching you longingly. Simpering like a pre-teen and pining over the way that the sunlight plays in the strands of your hair.

He shakes himself from his embarrassing reverie.

No one would be able to tell that just moments before he’d been debating on stroking his cock to just the sight of you, lurking in the trees like a creep. No. As he approaches its with his head held high and a sharp smile on his handsome smile.

“Brother!” Kiri grins, sitting up once she clocks him.

“What are you girls up to?” Neteyam greets. Cool as a cucumber.

“Nothing much, just been here since dawn. The waters so high this year!” Kiri picks up a fruit from beside her, peeling at its tender meat “everyone’s been out here today-on the other side, but no one knows how to get to this spot so we’ve had the beach all to ourselves”

You’re coming in from the lapping shore, beaming at him “Look at all the paysul(waterlily) that’ve bloom! I’ve never seen this many- isn't it amazing?”

“They are very beautiful. The rains were hard this year. I’m surprised the flooding wasn't worse” Neteyam tries not to focus on how tiny your chest covering- the bra as you call it- is. He turns his attention to his sister instead.

“Where’s Tuk, I cant believe she’d miss a chance to swim with you guys”

“She’s with mom, stuck on weaving duty since she tore grandma’s favorite tapestry” Kiri snorts because her baby sister had thrown a complete fit when she had been told she couldn't come “What about you? I thought you we’re too busy to hang out with the likes of us”

“I was able to make a little time for my favorite girls” Neteyam jests, amused by your eye roll and Kiri’s scoff “Plus, Lo’ak told me you need some humbling. Seems you forgot who’s the best diver in the family”

“Oh, you’re on, Teylupil(penis face/dick head)”

After stripping down to only his cloth, his cumberband and com left on shore, he slips into the cool refreshing water with a pleased “Ah”. Enjoying the gentle current against his skin-only to be tacked under the surface by Kiri and all of her bony lanky limbs moments later.

The sun soaked afternoon is filled with laughter and splashing. It’s exactly what he needs.

The three of you play in the river like children. Neteyam and Kiri go at it like the always do- careful to be gentle with your smaller form as you join in. It’s easy to forget the looming pressure of the hunt while he’s jumping from the rushing waterfalls and racing his sister, discreetly preening when he wins and you cheer him on with little claps.

Eventually you all tire.

Kiri floats on the water and goes to that place in her head that she so often does. Completely at peace to be surrounded by nature. She claims it’s when she can best hear Eywa.

Neteyam keeps a bit of an eye on her to make sure she doesn't randomly fall asleep again. Hoping she’d have the sense to get back to the beach before that happened.

Water floods his face and goes right up his nose.

His head snaps to you, spluttering and wiping at his eyes, “What the hell?”

You just giggle innocently before disappearing beneath the surface.

Neteyam’s tail flicks with interest.

He decides to let you get your little head start. His heart speeds up with the promise of a hunt before he starts his chase.He might be bigger then you but you're quick and slippery. Your mask giving you the advantage of not having to come up for air like he does.

When he grabs your ankle, so sure he’s got you, you all but kick him in the face to get away.

You little shit.

Fine.

If you want to play dirty, then he’s game.

He allows you to think you have a chance. That you may be winning the little game. You’re heading for the waterfall, planning to hide behind it.

He’s bigger and more trained than you could ever hope to be.

It only takes one well planned move and you’re done.

He yanks a hold of you, secure. He holds you then, your back against his chest and his strong muscle corded arms wrapped around you from behind before propelling the both of you through the pounding waterfall and into the small, closed off cave behind it.

“Neteyam!” You whine, squirming in his hold like a fish and he just laughs because honestly. He can barely feel it. You’re trying to escape with all his might and he’s holding you the way he might hold a child throwing a tantrum.

He leans in close, burying his face in your wet hair, close to your ear “I win, Sylaung(flower)”

He feels you shiver in his arms and it just makes him hold you tighter. He could keep you like this forever, if you’d only let him. Instead he can feel without you even saying so how hesitant you feel about this

“I think I deserve a prize” he pushes on even further and you give him a confused, side ways look. He so graciously allows you to turn in his hold until your chests meet, face to face.

“Like what?” you wonder and you’re too cute. You’re looking up at him, struggling to treading water with your smaller legs- Neteyam lifts you higher, until you’re bracing your hands on his broad shoulders and he’s holding you above the current. Supporting you totally.

“Well what can you give?” His inquiry is almost condescending and you shrug.

“I’m fresh out of gold stars” you tease and he barks out a laugh. Do you think he can't tell? That he can't see the way your cheeks flush and your pulse hammers beneath the delicate skin of your throat?

“What about a kiss” he offers offhandedly and your face scrunches up in a glare automatically.

“You don't want to?...”

“Why do you make fun of me like this, Neteyam” It’s not often he hears your voice this hard, soured by embarrassment and self doubt.

“I’m not making fun of you” he insists with a sigh “I don't know why you always say that. When have I ever given you the impression that I’d do that?”

You won't meet his gaze. Your green eyes flick, anywhere but on him. Zeroing somewhere behind his back. All too interested on the rocky cave wall.

“If it wasn't for this damned mask” Neteyam husks, low and sincere “I’d kiss you right now”

Even still, you don't seem convinced. Won't look at him until he takes your face in his hand, his fingers gentle but insistent. They grip the mask at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Why don't you believe me?”

“I’m nothing like the Omatikaya women you’ve been with” you say plainly like it's so obvious. Like it's a problem.

“I know”

“You didn't even like me growing up. You thought I was annoying”

“That isn't true-”

“It is” you insist haughtily “you’d make fun of me for talking to my plants”

He doesn't mean to laugh, really he doesn't. It’s not the time for it and it just pisses you off even more. He doesn't let you out of his arms even when you swat at him. “Listen, I’m sorry. I think it’s very sweet the way you talk to your plants. I want you to talk to me just like that, please”

That earns him a little giggle and he feels very pleased with himself.

You play with his hair often, most times it's mindless. A way to distract yourself. Your small deft fingers twirl along his adorned braids. He craves the scritch of your manicured nails on his scalp.

“How do you want me to kiss you? If I have my mask on” The interest in your hair is only just veiled. Your attempt at being nonchalant fails.

“Hmm” Neteyam feigns thinking, face screwed up “I think I could come up with a few ideas”

A few thousand more like it. You were the star of all of his fantasies. You, twisted and contorted into positions that would surely make you blush. You, with your mouth hanging slack in pleasure. Screaming his name-

But you hadnt agreed to that. You only, just barely, agreed to let him kiss you.

When he leans in its slow. Slow enough to give you time to push him away.

The waterfall roars in the background, white noise, but even it can't drown out the thunderous beating of your frantic heart.

Then his lips are pressed against your throat, gulping in the sweet scent of you. He cant kiss your mouth, but he can kiss the sweet, smooth column of your neck. Your clavicle. Your quivering shoulders. The heavy flesh of your breast. His kisses are open mouthed, his rough textured tongue dragging over your skin, leaving saliva trails in their wake-

You gasp sharpley when drags the skimpy fabric of your bra down so he can get at your pebbled nipple. He’s just about to suckle, when the moment is broken.

“Guys! Where’d you go?!”

It’s Kiri. Obviously awake from her nap like meditation time.

Your eyes go comically wide and Neteyam reluctantly releases you. Not wanting to get caught with an armful of pretty, half naked human. He’s thankful for the cold water and the way that he can hide the hardness tenting his tweng.

He catches you by the wrist before you can dip beneath the falls-

“We’re not done here, Sylaung” the promise leaves his lips fevor laced and full of heat.

You can only gulp and nod dazed, “I still owe you a kiss” your sweet voice reminds, before you’re ducking back under the water.

Leaving him dazed and buzzing for a moment before he gets it together and follows.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Days later he still hasn't gotten his prize.

Although he’s celebrated by his clan, praised for his successful hunt, he feels like something is missing.

The Harvest Season and its celebrations are well underway. Every night there's dancing and singing around the large bonfires we’re fragrant spiced tailong meat roasts. Neteyam is highly decorated; feathers adorn his freshly braided hair and he's donned his most ornate cumberband. He’s hauntingly handsome

Spider and Lo’ak are sat near the main fire, laughing heartily and sharing a leather gourd full of liquor between themselves.

Spider’s obviously drunk and eyeing Kiri hungerly as she dances with Tuk- he’d never do that sober. Not with Neytiri so near. Lo’ak is lounged out, an attractive female in his lap. She giggles madly at whatever filth his little brother whispers in her twitching ear.

Jealousy bubbles acidicly in Neteyam’s belly and again, he wonders where you are. Why you arent here, in his lap. Letting him woo you.

He figures he’ll have to go to you then, if you won't come to him.

First thing to do is find you.

“Hey, Spider!” the human man is the best place to start. Spider’s eyes are glassy under his mask and still. His friend is excited to see him, greets him with a hand shake and a small hug.

“Neteyam, man! Where have you been all night?”

“Around, you know how it is” Neteyam shrugs, sitting sown on the log, accepting the gourd and taking a swig of the thick sticky sap inside. It burns all the way down.

“This partys essentially for him- I’m surprise you we’re able to get away from dad” Lo’ak shit-talks, like he always does. It’s good natured for the most part “I thought he might throw you a parade or something. Call in the clans-”

“Fuck you, man” Neteyam chuckles, shaking his head at Lo’aks theatrics. “Don't be jealous”

“Jealous of dad? Nah” Lo’ak “Now the women you’re getting? That I might be jealous of”

“Hey!” the girl in his lap, a weaver from a modest family, squrims, pinching at his shoulder “You’ve got all the woman you need for the night, sayrip”

She squeals when Lo’ak squeezes her tight around her middle and blows wet raspberry kisses into her neck.

Neteyam just rolls his eyes and shares a little look with Spider. By the next eclipse, Lo’ak wouldve moved on. He has a knack for loving and leaving.

“Why arent you out there, bro? I saw Amitsa giving you the eyes! She’s so hot and she doesnt ever give anyone the time of day” Spider juts his chin and sure enough. The woman is giving Neteyam longing looks from across the fire. She’s a pretty thing and her sultry voice is renowned in the tribe. He’d be lying if he said he wasnt attracted to her “You’re not gonna go try to get at that?”

No. He’s not.

“Uh” Neteyam scratches the back of his neck “I was actually looking for Flora, I havent been able to find her around lately”

Of course, that sets of a exactly what he knows it would.

His brothers are assholes and have teased his merciesly since discovering his obsessive crush. Spider knocks his much smaller shoulder against Neteyam’s and Lo’ak hoots with laughter.

“How someone can be pussy whipped for pussy they haven't even had is beyond me” Lo’ak snorts and Neteyam gives him a warning growl, his lips snarled up.

It’s nothing he hadn’t heard before.

Lo’ak finds it endlessly amusing that Neteyam had his eye on you, the tiny human he’d grown up so lukewarm about. It had always been his siblings; Kiri and Lo’ak and Tuk that were close with you growing up. Neteyam had never shown a speck of interest until your figure had grown curvy and supple-

“Piss off, I wasn’t asking you” Neteyam gives his best big brother stare down. His golden eyes hard and unimpressed before looking to Spider, hairless brows raised “You know where I could find her?”

“Listen man, she said wasn’t interested in hanging out with anyone tonight” the human man starts with a sigh and Neteyam’s growl is low and warning ���-but I’m sure you can find her where she always is”

Neteyam wracks his brain for a moment “The Greenhouses?”

“Bingo” Spider nods, an almost sympathetic look in his eye as he watches Neteyam jump to his feet and set off.

Lo’ak sniggers and the girl in his lap scoffs and mutters something about “shameful, being that twisted up about a tawtute” but Spider says nothing.

Instead his plixr hazed eyes focus on the figure dancing close to the firelight. Kiri lets out a twinkling laugh at something Tuk says and yeah. Spider understands Neteyam. He understands being completely obsessed with something you’ve never had.

Instead of taking a note from his much braver brother, he lifts his mask and takes another shot of the acidic syrup.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Neteyam could make the trek through the forest to Hells Gate in his sleep..

He’d spent a good chunk of his childhood retracing these exact steps, headeded for the familiar concrete fortress that made up the last human outpost on Pandora.

Neteyam had always been far too similar to his mother, for countless reasons. But his distaste for everything industrial was one of the main reasons. As he got older he spent less and less time here. Couldnt be found in the cold echoing hallways like Lo’ak and the girls coul

But even he could admit.

There’s something beautiful about the Greenhouses.

With their dome like structure, the big glass buildings are a fortress for the humans. Inside they’re as hot and humid as the Pandoran rainforests- but circulating Earth air so that the fruits and vegetables that are native to Terra Firme can grow, even on this alien planet.

Neteyam makes his way inside, plugging in the codes into the keypad and letting himself in through the pressurized doors that slide closed right behind him. His eyes are peeled, taking in all of the foreign greenery, hoping to catch a flash of tanned skin or light hair in the cracks between trees.

The Greenhouses are huge. There’s orchards of apples and oranges and long deep garden beds full of root vegetables. Enough to feed the Hell’s Gate settlement throughout the year, to trade with the People of the Omaticaya.

No matter, he’s a blooded hunter after all.

He hones in on that training as he tracks your path. Your footprints along the cement floor are light, and really you barely leave any trace of yourself at all. You float along with light steps and Neteyam truly thinks if you had been born one of the People you would’ve made a fine huntswoman-

He finds you in the shade of the orange trees. You’re up on a stool, gathering the plump fruit and humming a pleasant little tune.

You’re ethereal in artificial sunlight.

You’re something out of the books that Norm used to read to them when they were kids. His favorite had been the one about the boy who would never grow up and the island of Neverland. And the tiny golden dust covered pixi that flitted from page to page.

A fairy.

A being not quite real. Too gentle and feminine to exist.

He likes the tawtute clothes you wear. The small top that clings to your breasts like a second skin and the flowy patterned skirt. Of course if it was up to him you’d only ever wear the garments of the People- or even better, Nothing at all.

You reach too high, strained up on your tippy toes and Neteyam feels irrational fear at that. At all of your delicate skin and breakable neck-

He’s beside you in an instant and he doesn't need a ladder to reach the high hanging fruit you’d been struggling for. He grabs the fruit with one hand while the other stabilizes you, his big palm spread out across the small of your back.

You gasp at his warm touch. Your head snapping in his direction and legs going wobbly.

“Neteyam!”

“Flora” He sighs as he urges you down from the ladder, takes the heavy bucket of fruit from your hands “You really do need to be more careful”

You splutter for a moment, still shocked at his sudden arrival “I- ugh! I was fine!” you insist haughtily “It’s not like I don't do this all of the time. You didn't need to come help me, I can manage perfectly fine on my own”

“Need to help you?” Neteyam cocks his head a bit.

“Yeah…I mean. Why else would you be here?” you ask, scratching awkwardly at your arm for a moment “Tonight's the celebration. You really should be back with the clan-”

“As should you” He cuts you off firmly. Not liking the way that you’re trying to separate yourself from the tribe. From him “I have not seen you for days. Do you not want to feast with our people?”

You sigh, looking away from him. Biting at that plump ever pink bottom lip of yours. Always shy, he knows he needs to bring you out of your shell. You’ll find a way to run away from him again if he doesn't.

“I didnt come here to help you” Neteyam admits because he’s selfish and because you’re too beautiful. Even more so, since you’ve been hiding from him. Avoiding his attention.

“Oh really?” you’re not coy by nature but there's something in your eyes. In the way you’re looking up at him “Then what are you here for?”

“My kiss”

Your pupils expand, just the tiniest bit but he can see it. He can see it all. Every inch of your pretty face, unbridled by that cumbersome mask you usually are forced to don. He can see every freckle and blemish- and the way that a blush creeps across the apples of your cheeks.

“A deals a deal” Neteyam insists at the prolonged silence. At your nervous flicking gaze.

“Okay” is your sweet reply and he can only stare at your plump lips. A man with one thing and one thing only on his mind.

You don't protest when he reaches for you. When his big hands go around your waist and tug slowly until he’s enveloping you in his chest. You fit so perfectly, right under his sternum. Stare up at him with wide eyes that flutter closed the closer he inches his face towards yours.

The kiss is wet and electric and Neteyam wants to eat you whole.

Any awkwardness that comes from the size difference is soon overcome by the desire that simmers between you. You let him lead, always so willing to go with whatever flow he may give. Let him nip at your delicate bottom lip until he can almost taste the metallic twang of blood. Let him stick his much bigger tongue into your warm mouth, and then down your constricting throat.

As you make little gasping choking sounds, he imagines it's his huge pulsing cock stealing the air from your lungs instead.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, as he trails kisses down your soft jaw. He cant stop, wants to taste you everywhere. Every inch of skin. He know it must be overwhelming- if your heaving breaths and mewls are anything to go by, he knows you’re feeling every inch of the mind spinning need that he is.

Still,

No matter how much he gropes at you with rough hands and drags spit soaked kisses over your neck and chest, youre so good for him. Such a good girl. Holding on for any ride he might take you on. Your fingers twined in his silky braids arent there to push him away, but to pull him closed.

When he grasps you by the back of your thighs and hoists- you wrap your legs around his slim waist, your ankles hooking at his lower back.

The helpless noise you make goes straight to his groin.

Neteyam lies you down on hard floor. He’d rather have you in the warmth of his Kelku, or under the stars, but at least here he can get at your maskless face. At your bare lips. Once he’s cradling your head safely and tucked in between your spread thighs he's at you again. Ravenously.

You’re so docile, so eager to let him take whatever he wants.

“Flora” he husks into your hair and you shiver.

“Yeah?”

“Flora” Neteyam brings your little body even closer.”You have no Idea. I have to have you. I need-”

You squeak needily “You can have whatever you need” and gasp when Neteyam kisses your cheek. Your lips. Your jaw. Your neck. Your nerves are on fire and your hips grind against his.

“I need this body. I need to see all of it, you drive me crazy” Neteyam armits as he tugs on your top and you help him pull it up over your head. You dont wear a bra, why would you? Your pretty rosy nipples are all on display for him. Pebbled and begging for attention, He laps slowly with his wide textured tongue at the puffy nub.

He suckles like a newborn until you’re chivalry and making hurt little sounds, until your pretty chest is covered in blooming bruises.

And then he’s dragging his wanting mouth down. Past your heaving ribs and over your soft belly. Neteyam hikes the flowy material of your skirt up high, until he can bend down and poke his head underneath.

“Oh!” you gasp, writhing a bit. Your thighs trying to close on instinct.

You’re so wet for him, the smell of it is thick and heady and he digs his nose into your inner thigh and snuffles. Its mouthwatering.

And it bit mortifying, from your end. Having the large man with his head buried under your skirt as he sniffs at your core-

When he licks a fat stripe over you, wetting up the thin material of your panties you cry out. No ones ever touched you like this and here he is, licking at your clothed pussy. Over and over until the fabric is translucent and sticky with your flowing juices.

“Please” you mewl, gathering the fabric, yanking until you can see him.

Its filthy and erotic. The sight of his hulking blue body between your trembling tanned thighs. So alien. So taboo-

“Please what, sylaung?” Neteyam taunts, his golden eyes meeting yours. They shine with mirth, and lust. So much lust. When he noses at your pink flowery panties you throw your head back, eyes squeezed closed. Unable to take the sight any longer “You want me to take care of you?”

“Yes” you sob because you’re pulsing and you can barley breathe you’re so horny “Please take care of me with your tongue”

Neteyam strips you then, out of your skirt and cute little panties and you’re lying under him. Naked and flushed and wanting.

He shoulders himself exactly back where he wants to be. Where he’s always wanted to be.

“Don't worry, I’ll take care of this sweet pussy for you”

Oh god. Your head is spinning.

You can barely think as he kisses on the jiggling fat of your thighs.

“I’m sorry” you gasp.

Neteyam hums right against your core and you can feel the vibrations throughout your entire body “What for?”

“I’m so messy” you whisper, that pink blush blooming all over your body.

Groaning, Neteyam can't wait any longer. Your flavor bursts along his taste buds. Tangy and earthy and decadently sweet. He’s had his fair share of cunt before, but he’s never tasted a humans and he’s shocked at how saccharine it is. It’s sticky and coats his mouth and throat. His lips and nose and chin as he digs in.

“Neteyam!” You wait.

“Fuck. Oh, Eywa. One Second” Neteyam sits up and adjusts himself where his painfully hard under his tweng and the ache in you deepens. You try to be good, try to be still as he leans in and licks at you again. Kisses your pussy in that same beautiful passionate way he kisses your lips.

He’s good. Too good at this. He’s had too much practice and you never had a chance againts that oversized mouth.

“Holy fuck” the words sound even more vulgar in your honeyed voice “Fucking hell, Nete. Nete. I’m almost there”

Neteyam grin is hidden between the lips of your pussy. He doubles down, letting you hump and soak his face. Then lapping back at inside of you in a repetitive and ceaseless rhythm, One that has you shaking, arching up off the ground. Your plush thighs closing, clamping around his head as you come.

Your orgasm cinches tight and rushes around you, inside of you, out of you with a gush of slick. It’s so deep. So strong, that it takes a moment for you to truly peak and it leaves you in a daze. Out side of your body as you fuck up againts Neteyams mouth like a wild animal.

You’d never come so hard in your life and it takes a while for you to recenter.

Once youre able to focus past the rushing in your ears, the first thing you notice is Neteyam’s face streaked with wet. Your blush blooms across your cheeks as you both breathe unevenly into the quiet.

“Did that feel good?” Nereyam knows it did, but still. He needs to ask. Needs to hear you say it.

You giggle, girlish and airy as your dainty hand releases his hair and cups at his cheek “So so good. I’ve never felt anything like that before”

His grin is all too feline and seeing those white canines gleam so close to the most sensitive part of you is a little alarming.

“There’s so much more to come, yawntutsyip” Neteyam promises, leading back down. His fingers play with the jiggle of your thigh- so different then any of the Omaticaya women he’s had You squirm a bit, clearly overstimulated, but keep your legs spread anyway.

Neteyams long digits prod gently at your pussy lips. You’re oddly pretty here. All red and rosy and inflamed, like that blush he loved so much on your cheeks. He spreads you with two fingers so that he can look at you inside. At your quivering pink folds and your tiny little hole that clenches when he runs his finger along it.

“You’re so small here” he whispers, completely hypnotized by it “So fucking tight. You’ll never be able to take me”

You whimper unhappily “Don’t say that. I want to- please just try”

“Shh,” Neteyam soothes your cries. Your dazed worries. He distracts you with his tongue, as it swirls over your throbbing clit. It feels a bit like sandpaper to your nerves, but you can get enough.

When his finger begins to breach you, you hold your breath.

Its big, but youre so loose from your first orgasm, so desperate to be filled that he sinks in until the hilt.

Its maddening after that and you grind the back of your head into the hard concrete under you- your eyes closed and your mouth hanging open. The sounds you make are feral and raw-

Neteyam fucks you open with one and then two fingers until its easy. Until the sweet stretch doesn't burn- instead its slippery and wet.horribly wet as Neteyam feasts on you as he fucks you with his fingers-

“Too much-Fuck” you weakly try to pull away from the assult of pleasure but he he’s too strong. Pins you down. Makes you take whatever he wants to give you.

When he lifts your hips up even higher to take a curious lick at your puckered asshole you white out.

This orgasm isnt like the first. You sink under the waves of this one. Your muscles cramp with the intensity. You cant come back to yourself, you can’t cling to anything but Neteyam. You cant even scream.

He’s everything, as he soothes you. As he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before.

“H-hurts” you whimper, eyes filling up with tears. Pussy aching.

“Just a little more baby” Neteyam huffs as he licks at you and stuffs the hand that's covered in your cum down his own tweng. It lubricates the fast and furious pumping of his fist along his rock hard cock.

He cant fuck you tonight, thats something the two of you will have to work up to. He’ll teach your tiny body to take him. To crave penetration.

But with his tongue buried in your pulsating pussy and your scent all around him its easy enough to pretend. Easy enough to imagine shoving himself into you slowly. Stretching you’re ruined. Your hole would never be the same. You’d forever gape because of him-

Neteyam comes with a roar and dirties his loincloth up like a teenager.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Later, after he’s cleaned you both up the best he can and gathered you to his chest. After he’s taken a sip from the breathing mask and nuzzled ar your wispy soft baby hairs that are plastered against the side of your sweaty head-

That he has the urge to read that book again. The one with the fairies. As he watches your slumbering face, your nose scrunching and lips pursing, he thinks the onlt thing missing is the gossamer wings,

His own little fairy.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

AAAAAAND we’re done.

First and foremost I want to give the wonderful @oakbuggy her accolades. Her Neteyam x Flora art inspired this fic 100%. A couple months ago I actually messaged her begging her to let me right this for her because I just couldn't get over this crackship of dreams. Thank you for being so patient with me. I hope you enjoy that overstimulation, baby!

PLEASE GO CHECK OUT HER ART. It’s sooooo delish.

This was a monster to write because I just had so many different ideas of what I wanted to do with the two of them and couldn't pinpoint where exactly I wanted the plot to go. Even now its a bit messy but still. I’m a fucking sucker for Neteyam x Flora and I would be more then happy to write more of them if thats something everyone would be into.

Please give me some feedback. What did we think about this writing style? Do we like the Y/N route more?

Until next time sweet honey bees!

[heaven-is-in-your-arms-series]

Fantastic Creatures in Himmapan

Part One

2022 calendar project by David Ryo

Styled by Hongsawadee

Nang Ngeuk - the mermaid

Found in stories like Phra Aphai Mani and the Ramakien.

Naga

There are four Naga families, represented by different colours: Green, Black, Rainbow and Golden.

Upsorn Srihas

half-human half-deer creatures said to live in Himmapan forest.

Makalee Pons

strange female beings, born from the fruit of magical trees only found in Himmapan forest.

Nang Tani / Thai nymphs

Born within a tree, these spirits can follow their trees if they are chopped down.

Thep Norasri

A lion-like hybrid creature, often compared to the sphinx. The upper body is human and the lower a lion although sometimes the legs are more deer-like but with a lion's tail.

Chattathahatti

A mystical animal that looks like an elephant but is silvery white and can move incredibly fast.

Khon Tun

Magical beings that live between the human world and the heavenly realm. Very fond of music.

[heartsforhiccup]

apples

hiccup x modern reader

summary: awkward pleasantries happen.

tags: httyd 1, one-sided feelings, gender neutral language, isekai

word count: 1,489

a/n: this happens before this fic, if people are interested i'd like to write more hiccup fics like this :,3 please lmk

You saw his face in bustling crowds of busybodies Vikings from afar. The rest of their faces looked blurred to you without your glasses, but Hiccup stuck out like a sore thumb, like a weed sticking out the cracks of concrete sidewalk; plain yet hard to ignore. Berk never stopped for anyone, at times it was difficult to keep up on your feet, so you never afforded time to walk up to him and say hi. What would you even say, anyway? Keeping your distance meant you were safe, free from yet another awkward encounter.

As the days carried on, the more you saw him, your suspicion rose until it was difficult to excuse it away as pure coincidence. You may have been paranoid, yet you couldn't shake that feeling in your gut, nor the ghostly sensation of something targeted to the back of your head. When you turned in reaction, Hiccup was the common denominator. His response was a gamble; sometimes he'd stare back, or wave, or straight up flee from the scene. You refrained from judging his... oddness, because you were seen as just as strange, but his borderline stalker behaviour left you puzzled.

...He wasn't really stalking you, right?

You sighed to yourself. If he were trying to harass you, he would have confronted you by now instead of ogling you from a distance. After your clumsy arrival, you blended well into the crowd. Vikings had left you alone once you found a steady line of work and settled in—nothing to warrant the excessive staring.

The only way to combat it was to ask him either to stop or stare back. There were better things to worry about, like the sheep that escaped their pens on the regular from their owner's negligence. The sheep treated you better than Hiccup did, at least they didn't stare while you worked.

...

"...Hi." You raised a brow, unable to hide the affliction to your tone, squinting down at the sheepish boy that stood in front of you.

"H-Hey," he uttered, eyes flickering behind you to look as if he were absentminded.

Finally, you caught him - nowhere to run, no broad-shouldered Vikings to hide behind. Not that you had been actively trying to catch him, you simply saw an opportunity and took it. You watched with a discerning eye as his gaze travelled from your face down the slope of your shoulders, eventually landing on the basket of apples hung on your forearm.

Apples, the only fruit that seemed to thrive here, next to clustered huckleberries tucked into the deeper parts of the forest. You’d catch glimpses of them past the shadowed canopy of tall-standing trees, filtered light that drew a clear line between you and unstopped territory. The thought of venturing further made you pause. Even in fantastical world of dragons, your worries placed in more explainable things, like a wolf eating you alive. Maybe someday.

Instead, you picked the few bushes you could reach, leaving your mind to imagine the plumper fruits that lay beyond the treeline. They did little to satisfy your cravings, the juices coated your tongue bitterly - a taste difficult to enjoy.

Mrs. Thorston requested you pick the brightest apples you could find to bake into her acclaimed apple pie. The expedition was pleasant, the wind blowing softer against your skin, rustling amongst the leaves. You stole one from the bunch for a snack.

If you got in the woman’s good graces, maybe she’d lend a secret or two for her recipe. A taste for something sweet and familiar – warm, cinnamon-coated apples baked in a golden crust left you salivating. The faster you delivered these to her, the more time you could spend napping.

“You like apples?” He broke you from your daydreams.

“They’re for Mrs. Thorston,” you corrected. “Apple season is almost over, I think. Best people start picking them now before they rot.”

The change in seasons and time were easy to observe back home, spring came the start of a new year as winter concluded the end. Even the brightest of days seemed dull – muted shades of grey and the biting chill of wind that prickled your skin. Berk edged the line of a perpetual winter; without a proper calendar or clock, your perception of time was left to uncertainty and the position of the sun.

Christmas – or Snoggletog – would rear its head soon… If things came to the worst, sleeping in the Great Hall became your best choice. You spared a glance at his face and merely nodded. Your gut feeling of staying away was right, this was getting awkward.

Your teeth caught the inside of your cheek. Should you ask him about the stalking thing? This was the second time you’ve ever talked since then, interrogating him about it would end poorly. It was likely in your head; that conclusion laid your mind to rest on the subject.

“What are you doing?” you prompted. Walking away would be rude, even if you really wanted to.

He couldn’t seem to look at you right, second-guessing whatever he was about to say. That made two of you.

“Me?” He straightened back up from his hunched posture. “Was, uh, gonna head to the forge to… do stuff.”

Having a place he could run off to when overwhelmed sounded nice, you thought to yourself. He didn't appear to be in much of a rush, he was loitering by the blindspot of a hut when you caught him. That only added to your suspicions, yet you pushed it aside.

“I see.” The tip of your boot toed a pebble on the dirt path. “I’ve seen you around town, I haven't had the time to say hi. So… hello.”

Your lips pulled into the best polite smile you could muster. He returned the gesture, his grin wry without it quite meeting his eyes. Exchanging pleasantries never came naturally to you; even worse, Hiccup was just as awkward, it took strenuous effort to upkeep a friendly face. You weren’t expecting anything less, yet you swore something was off with him.

“Hi? Hey,” He parroted your words in a rush, twisting from foot to foot restlessly and somehow uptight at once. “Crazy coincidence. Not that I was, you know, looking for you, or something..."

“Yeah,” you agreed numbly. The vowels landed foreign on your ears, certain words still lost on you past thick accents and hard constants. You had scraped by most conversations with townsfolk using context clues, Berkians were straightforward and weren't afraid to say what was on their minds. No hidden meanings or colloquial sayings with no equivalent in your mother tongue.

“I should get going, I’m sorry…” you spoke again. You drew blanks on what else to talk about. The weather, maybe, it was particularly nice this afternoon, you were eager to get your chores done to properly enjoy it. “There's still a lot of work to do.”

“Right, uh, me too.” His smile fell. “You should swing by the forge sometime, maybe? If you want.”

You considered it. The invitation sounded too personal for comfort if you were being honest, outright declining would be plain rude.

“Sure,” you chirped. The words slipped past before you realized what you were agreeing to. “If I’m around,” you tacked on.

The familiar weight of something settled at the bottom of your stomach catching the hopeful glint in his eyes. Guilt, likened more to sympathy for him. The films glossed over the gritty details of his life before meeting Toothless. This wasn’t fiction, with sure outcomes and endings with neatly tied story arcs presented in a profitable film for your entertainment – just Hiccup, a real boy trying to find his place in life, and here you were, both a stranger and a witness to it.

There was little you had to offer – only carrying the clothes on your back and an apple from your basket. Small, meaningless things, a wave from afar or words of encouragement. The secrets you held to yourself were kept for a reason; he would find his own way. If things went off kilter, just maybe you’d share your omnipresent advice.

You extended the basket to him with an outstretched hand. “Want one?”

The gesture came to you instinctively, faintly recalling the passing of snacks to your friends and their lighthearted pleas for whatever they could get their hands on. The memory loosened the purse of your lips, watching as his palm lifted, twitching by his side uncertainly, and he finally met your eyes.

Maybe sharing had different rules here. Survival of the fittest, and all. Surely offering food wasn’t that crazy of a thing to do.

“Not hungry,” he declined, his hand falling limp to his side, the other coming to rub the arm.

“They don’t have worms, I checked,” you reassured lightly.

“That’s… not what I’m worried about,” he muttered back as if he regretted saying anything at all.

[professional-yapper]

Aonung x Albino reader? 🙏🙏

Burn

Aonung x Albino! Reader

Warnings: sunburn ig?, awkward Aonung (he can't flirt to save his life this is true James Cameron told me himself), teasing as flirting, the tribe they're from is giving cult x

"This is stupid, Vipka," you huffed, ducking under a branch as you followed your twin brother's ghostly figure closer and closer to the edge of the dark forest that your tribe inhabited.

"Don't be a wuss!" he called back, flashing you a sharp grin. "We might find something cool!"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, or we'll find something dangerous, get ourselves killed, and end up in the Nothing. Eywa's word is that we stay here, in the Dark, where it's safe."

Vipka rolled his eyes right back, bounding towards you, grabbing your arms and giving you a little shake. "That's what the elders say. If Eywa wanted us to stay here, she wouldn't have made me so curious about what's out there."

You gritted your teeth, but couldn't find a proper response to that beyond a muttered, "That's blasphemous." And you relented, following your stupid, reckless brother towards the edge of the forest.

Not that you were sure there even was an edge. After all, no one besides the elders actually knew. You and Vipka were only heading in the direction that the elders went in when they left the village for reasons you and Vipka weren't allowed to know.

It really could just be the forest, going on forever and ever, and you would keep going until you went crazy.

A silent prayer formed on your lips, to Eywa, who had cared for your people even after they had been foolish enough to burn their Spirit Tree down. All that was left of the centuries-old catastrophe was a charred old stump held in reverence.

Once, your uncle had whispered a story to you of tribes far away, where the sun shone brightly and their Spirit Trees grew strong, and they could even connect with their dead through the Trees themselves. It seemed fantastical to you, who had grown up knowing upon death your people would go into the Nothing and never be heard from again. Eywa's punishment for her disobedient children.

But after all... You wondered if it could be true. If you and Vipka walked far enough, would you find a tribe with no Nothing, with a Spirit Tree that grew and flourished and kept their ancestors safe?

You didn't know whether to hope so or not. Would you even be able to return home once the elders discovered yours and Vipka's disobedience? Perhaps Eywa would punish the tribe again. Maybe your family personally.

Once again you called for Vipka, but he ignored you and his pale, slender form disappeared into the trees, running now, fuelled by the adrenaline of doing something so forbidden.

Not that this was forbidden, just wandering through the Dark. But it wasn't really the Dark, anymore. The dark green of the foliage had bled away into a lighter hue, punctuated with bursts of colours. Flowers and plants and fruits that you shied away from, eyes wary as you picked your way through this new world.

You shielded your eyes against the strange light filtering through the trees, golden and hot against your skin, which was already taking on a queer pink tint that you recognised vaguely.

The elders were often this shade when they returned to the tribe. Vipka had overheard them calling it... the Burn?

You couldn't be sure, but you covered your flushed arms with your hands and kept going.

A squeal suddenly pierced the warm silence, and you froze, ears dipping and tail waving with brisk worry. "Vipka?" you called, taking a few stilted steps towards the source of the sound.

Another squeal, but definitely not Vipka. An animal of some kind. And voices. Loud, cheerful, calling to one another as they got closer, evidently following the squealing thing.

Hunters, maybe.

Not from your tribe, for sure.

You began backing up, preparing to turn and run like hell all the way back home. Vipka could keep going for all you cared, could be caught and eaten alive by the tribes beyond the Dark.

A large animal burst out of the undergrowth and you shrieked in fright, leaping back and colliding with something or someone, falling down in a jumble of arms and legs.

The animal veered away at your cry, thundering in a different direction.

"Damn!" the thing that had fallen down with you swore, shoving you off unceremoniously. "You scared it away, skxwang!"

"Fuck you!" you spluttered furiously, climbing to your feet and rubbing your lower back. You were angry. Fucking furious.

But then the strange Na'vi stood up, and you considered that it might not be a good idea to square up with him.

He was built like a tree. Broad and muscular and a weird shade of blue. Twice your size, at least. Could absolutely crush you into dust.

You didn't want to stick around and find out.

But before you could run, he grabbed your arm, pulling you back, staring at you hard with his weird pale eyes, dark curls plastered to his brow, entire body covered in sweat. "What are you?" he asked.

You shoved him in the chest, but he barely shifted, which was a solid blow to your ego. You were one of the stronger members of the tribe, and it scared you to think Na'vi of his size and strength were roaming wild out here.

Why would the elders ever come out here?

"You're one of those white Na'vi, right? From the deep forest on the other side of Awa'atlu?" he prompted, ears flattening as you kept quiet.

You stiffened. "How do you know that?"

"Your people- what do you mean, how do I know that? Your people come and talk with my dad all the time. You should probably cover up, by the way. You guys burn real easy," he added, tone almost friendly as he released your arm, seemingly realising it wasn't helping.

He knew? He knew of your people. He knew of the Dark. He knew the elders.

"But you're, like, my age," he continued, tilting his head. "I thought your people were all old and wrinkly. That's why you're white, yeah?"

You frowned. "Only the elders ever leave the Dark," you said slowly, wondering just how much you should tell this boy.

He chuckled, a surprisingly reassuring sound, even though he was holding a spear with the other hand. "What's the Dark? Is that what you call the place you're from?"

You nodded.

"So you guys don't see the sun much, huh?" he said carefully, glancing up at the blazing white spot in the sky above.

A swift shake of the head, and you didn't bother to follow his eyes. You could feel the sun well enough as is. Your skin felt flushed, hot, and it stung when you touched it.

Though the pink was a nice colour, you had to ask. "Is it poisonous?" you asked, trying to keep the distress out of your voice, running your fingers down your arm.

Another warm chuckle, and now he was looking at you with interest, which made your heart beat a little quicker. "No, you're just burning. Sunburn, you know? Cause you don't see the sun much-"

"Ever," you interjected briefly, stealing a glance above, at the great blue mass above you that went on forever, careful to keep your eyes away from the sun, though spots still danced in your eyes when you looked back at him.

He blew out a breath, curls jumping off his forehead briefly. "Okay. So you're from a freaky tribe where you've never seen the sun and live in the dark all the time, in the forest where the leaves are so thick the sun can't get through... What are you doing here? Did you run away?"

"Kind of?" you said, wondering what he was doing as he turned and scooped up a knife off the floor, then turned and started walking. Should you follow him?

"Are you coming?" he called back, gesturing for you to follow. When you caught up, he gestured for you to keep talking.

"I was following my brother Vipka. Leaving the Dark was his idea. He wanted to know where our elders go," you continued, tongue growing looser the more time you spent with this strange boy. Which might've been a bad thing. "Eywa cursed him with curiosity."

The boy nodded slowly, absorbing this. "And where's your brother now?"

"He ran ahead and I lost him," you shrugged. "But he'll turn up, either at your village or back home, if he gives up."

"I'm Aonung," the boy said briskly.

You told him your name, and he repeated it back to you carefully, grinning like it was an inside joke between you two.

"I'll take you home with me, then," Aonung shrugged. "My mother will know what to do. I- we can look after you till your elders return to my village." The tips of his ears flushed and you smiled, pleased with the sight, though you didn't know why.

"Sounds good," you hummed.

"Are all girls in your tribe as pretty as you?" he asked abruptly, looking straight forward as if scared to see your expression.

You blinked, then smiled again, wider, flushing, though you thought he probably wouldn't be able to tell since you were so 'sunburnt'. "Dunno," you chuckled. "I'll bring you home with me one day and you can see for yourself."

"I don't think they are," he said, glancing down at you and smiling, lips curling downwards.

"You haven't even seen them yet!"

"No, but I trust my gut," he said, slapping his abs with a proud look

"Oh, yeah? Was it your gut that made you run into me, too?"

"That- that was fate. Mother Eywa intended it."

"Or maybe Eywa cursed you with clumsiness. A deadly combination with how short-sighted you apparently are," you teased.

He gave you a little push, laughing. "Shut up! Why were you just standing there, is my question!"

You pushed him back, not bothering to put any effort into it, as the results remained the same and he didn't break his stride. "I've never been this far from home! I was taking in the scenery!"

"Taking in the scenery," he scoffed. "Take in this scenery." He got close to your face, which was probably meant to be intimidating but only made your ears drop bashfully, tail curling against your calf, suddenly shy as his nose almost bumped into yours.

He lingered for a moment, then seemed to realise his theatrics had gone wrong and backed up. "I mean- sorry, that came out wrong."

"No, it's okay, I like that scenery just fine too," you grinned, and he rolled his eyes in embarrassment.

"What?" you taunted, following him as he kept walking, more than happy to tease the hell out of him. "I thought you wanted me to take in the scenery!"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

I'm patenting this tribe actually, this freaky albino tribe, because I want to write lore for it. Let me know if anyone wants to read said lore. Enjoy anon! I had fun with the world-building!

[astaroth1357]

Devildom Wedding Headcanons

I realized you probably wouldn't get a Christian wedding in Hell.

cw: lotta alcohol, Satanic themes

Weddings in the Devildom are anything but a quiet affair. They're noisy, colorful, and caked in excess.

A demon world wedding ceremony could be mistaken for a nonstop reception. The guests are always on their feet, constantly on the move by dancing, swinging, hooting, howling, and jumping. Raucous revelry is seen as a sign of support for the pairing.

Demonus flows at all points of the ceremony, though not in high concentrations so most guests can partake throughout the whole event. Food is also served plentiful and easily portable so the dancing doesn't have to stop for snacks.

Wedding venues tend to be outdoors to accommodate the movement. Couples often choose town squares, forest clearings, or parks to hold their ceremonies. It will go on no matter what weather as magic can be used to keep things dry and temperate. Thunderstorms are actually signs of good fortune as the realm is seen as adding noise to the festivities.

The decor is often chaotic and colorful. Guests are encouraged to bring their own flowers, fruits, and paints to crush and throw as they're moving. There is no coordination between parties, so all sorts of petals, juices, and colors will be mixed together by the end.

Music is bright and energetic. Swing jazz is a popular choice as it often reflects the energy of the venue. Full bands can be brought out or bands of friends and family members can partake in keeping things lively.

Fire is a big part of the ceremony. Torches, braziers, and bonfires are used for illumination - themselves alight in fantastic, magical colors. More expensive ceremonies will even opt to use shadow magic to make words and images from the shadows of the dancers.

The couple being wed is expected to be barefoot throughout the event, no matter the venue. It symbolizes willingness to tred a dangerous path together. Outfits are selected jointly, often to match in some way, to further demonstrate the unity.

The couple arrives together and enters the venue at the same time, upon which they will take their place in the center of the festivities - often marked by a large bonfire/stone/effigy. The couple dances to the music as the guests link hands to form moving circles around them.

Glasses of demonus are eventually passed to the couple in the center. The pair take turns speaking individually to their partner and the crowd, making declarative statements about their love and future devotion to one another in a form reminiscent of a toast. The crowd is encouraged to cheer or heckle if statements seem inauthentic.

A guest of the couples' choosing then brings them a set of rings to place onto each other. Once the rings are secured, they are allowed to kiss, then drink from their glasses as demonus and paint is showered onto them like champagne.

The ceremony moves right along to the reception within seconds. The guests are allowed to rest, eat, stand, and converse among themselves and with the couple. Wedding games such as Drunk Lawn Darts or Hot Coal Races are played while guests intermittently give speeches and toasts.

The reception ends when guests are too exhausted/wasted to continue any further. The couple is allowed to leave at earliest convenience to consummate the final event if they so choose to, though it's poor manners to leave before speaking to all guests.

Jobs allow two days of time off for employees to recover from expected hangovers.

[reasonsforhope]

"[There is] fantastic news for species conservation after new populations of the gorgeous ‘Skywalker’ gibbon, known to science for only 6 years, were recently found living in the politically chaotic nation of Myanmar.

Also called the hoolock gibbon, this dainty vocalist was first described in 2017 living in the extreme south of China on a mountain in Yunnan. Classified as Endangered by the IUCN, the population was estimated to number a paltry 150 individuals, but others were believed to live in Myanmar.

Even before the recent military junta usurped the president and plunged the country into civil war, Myanmar [was a difficult place to conduct field studies, especially extensive or ongoing ones, due to ongoing conflict.]

[Although they are] now in open revolt against the military junta, [the Myanmar states of Shan and Kachin] were nevertheless destinations for an intrepid team of scientists from the Nature Conservation Society Myanmar, Fauna & Flora International–Myanmar Programme, the IUCN’s ape specialist group, and field researchers from universities in England, China, and the US.

Together, they conducted acoustic surveys, collected non-invasive DNA sampling, and took photographs for morphological identification at six sites in Kachin State and three sites in Shan State. With the help of the Myanmar conservationists, the team also interviewed locals dwelling in rural forested areas, small conservation programs, and timber companies about the frequency of sightings and the hunting pressure.

Population estimates of unknown quality and scientific rigor conducted in 2013 suggested there might be 65,000 hoolock gibbons in Myanmar, but the matter became much more complicated after the classification of the Skywalker gibbon as a separate species from the eastern hoolock gibbon—where before they were confused as the same.

“We were able to genetically identify 44 new groups of Skywalker gibbons in Myanmar,” said senior author Tierra Smiley Evans, research faculty at the UC Davis School of Veterinary Medicine, and contributing author. “This is a huge resource and success story for Myanmar.”

These gibbons sing to each other at dawn for around 22 minutes, and consume 36 different plant species; choosing fruit first, and flowers later. They seldom sleep in the same tree two nights in a row to avoid predation, and can’t swim so are often confined to territories by river systems.

The team that discovered them in China in 2017 loved Star Wars, and called them tianxing which is Chinese pinyin for “heaven movement;” a nod not only to their favorite sci-fi franchise, but also to China’s ancient history. In the famous Book of Change [aka the I Ching] of the Zhou Dynasty [1046 BCE to 265 BCE], a divination poem refers to gibbons specifically, and uses tianxing as a verb to describe their movements.

The interviews were a source of great data for the scientists. For starters, nearly all individuals in both the Kachin and Shan states could identify a Skywalker gibbon by sight and by playback of its singing, lending the exercise a good degree of reliability...

“Biologists did not believe Skywalker gibbons could live in the small remaining patches in Southern Shan State before we started this project,” Pyae Phyo Aung, executive director of Nature Conservation Society Myanmar, told the UC Davis press.

“I am delighted with our field team members who have done an excellent job, within a short period of time, building community trust for further conservation actions. This area is degraded forest. It is really important for Myanmar and China to consider extending conservation approaches for the Skywalker gibbon to this new geographic area.”

Nearly 32,000 square kilometers, or around 8 million acres of forestland in Eastern Myanmar are suitable gibbon habitat, and while existing forest reserves like Paung Taung and Mae Nei Laung are quite large, they remain unprotected. For this reason, the survey team recommended they remain considered ‘Endangered’ on the IUCN Red List until habitat protections improve."

-via Good News Network, February 21, 2024

[sunandsstars]

SPIDER THE MATCHMAKER

Recom!Miles x Na’vi!Reader x Spider (Platonic)

Summary: Spider finally had enough of Quaritch’s oggling and decided to help encourage his advances towards the reader, he has a ship, and he’s determined to let it sail. Warnings: Brief mentions of abandonment/murder/existential crisis, Swearing Word count: 1.8k

It was different, being accepted into Na’vi society. He was so used to being the bad buy, the killer among men, yet now he’s just..him. After becoming a recom he felt as if he did not belong, a human mind in an aliens body is something he had to get used to. He definitely had a lot of existential crisis up until now.

The last fight he had with Jake Sully in the reefs left him severely wounded and he had to retreat back to base to seek help, his men where gone and his morale was becoming low. Luckily his son, Spider, decided to join him. His reasoning was that while the Sully’s where kind to him growing up (especially kiri who he will miss dearly) he cant ignore the fact they never went after him when he got kidnapped by the RDA, he cant ignore how Neytiri was so willing to kill him after he showed the family nothing but loyalty and he cant ignore how he felt as if he never belonged with them as human. 

So there they are, holed up in the Tawkami Clan, learning their way of life and becoming part of the people.

Surprisingly they where quick to welcome them in despite them not having a good history with men kind, Spider said they where a peaceful clan with a persistent quest for knowledge and lore keeping, they were studious and make it their mission to preserve Eywa’s ecosystem. ‘So they wanted to study me, the human turned Na’vi, how could I say no to being the centre of their learning’

Quaritch was certainly liking the attention from the people, back at base he was oggled at yes, but for different reasons. Usually the looks he received where ones of admiration for his effort in the war all those years ago, or was disgust for his newly blue tinted skin. In Greenhome it was of great wonder, oh how her yellow eyes looked into his in fascination while talking about his past planet Earth, how she spoke about the plants and the forests of Pandora with great love, how-

‘’Hey man, you good?’’

Spider waved a hand in front of his face and looked around to see what could be stealing the man’s attention, once his sights fell on the beautifal Na’vi woman picking some fruit not that far away he smirked cheekily. ‘’You know you could always go and talk to her right? She wont bite’’. Quaritch blinked and scowled, grabbing his son into a headlock and rubbing his knuckles along his head at lightning speed. Spider laughed loudly and struggled in his fathers hold, wriggling and shouting for help, and when help did come the blue mans grip became limp embarrassingly fast.

‘’And just what do you think you’re doing to him hm?’’ ___ pried the boy gently from Quaritch’s arms and placed him on the floor to run around ‘’hurting children is not something we take lightly you know’’

Well shit.

The recom felt his face flush a cute lilac shade, it spread from his nose and across his cheeks, even going to the tip of his pointed ears. How did he become so weak in the presence of a lady? The old Quaritch would have never blushed at the sight of one. But then again he isn’t the man he once was. If ___ noticed the fluster of his face she didn’t mention it, instead she grabbed the hand that was rested on his lap, intertwined their fingers and pulled him towards the fruit she was picking. 

‘’Come, I will show you how to pick yovo fruit’’ she spoke in English. Spider has been a fantastic teacher.

If the purple on his face could become any darker, it certainly has. Her hand was so warm and small…

Spider could only follow and wiggle his brows to the man discreetly. He is determined to get this ship going.

Standing at the base of the large bush ___ started to show him how to pick the berry’s, ‘’they are delicate and must be handled with care, you must not squeeze them too hard when picking’’ she picked a couple of them into her hand, threw some into the basket with the rest and gave some to both boys. Spider lifted his exopack and quickly devoured them, sliding the mask back on and chewing loudly ‘’these are good’’ he stated matter of factly with a mouthful. The outside of his lips turning purple from the pigment.

___ giggled at his antics and looked to see Quaritch’s reaction, he rolled his eyes at the boy and slowly munched on a berry. Once deemed not poisonous (he has trust issues ok) he threw the rest into his mouth. ‘’Yea, these are fucking fantastic’’ the woman could only smile in glee, happy to share more of her planet with him.

That smile..it sent his heart beating incredibly fast. He was falling in love and he knew it. How couldn’t he? When she was just so gentle and sweet with his son, when she was one of the first to help them get comfortable within the clan. He needed to invite her out, fast. He wasn’t the only one with eyes on her. He mused, eyes glancing at a small group of hunters around a fire, some of which turned their heads away quickly as they got caught.

‘’I was uh wondering’’ he coughed. This is gonna be a pain in the ass.

‘’would you like to come out with me tonight?’’ Spider swallowed the last of the fruit and blinked up at his father, smiling wide. Finally. It’s not like he’s been waiting for months.

___ blinked in surprise, not expecting this sudden offer. She wondered if he was finally asking her to be mates. Could you blame her?  A 9 ft 5’’ Na’vi warrior, recently accepted as part of the clan and was a fantastic hunter. And those muscles…

Eywa give her strength.

Her tail swished in gradual hope ‘’yes. Of course I would Miles’’ she grinned, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth in sweet shyness, the same purplish hue coating the recoms cheeks starting to spread across hers. 

Quaritch let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Fuck, why was it so hard to ask for one simple thing. Never in his life has he felt like this, not with previous hookups, not with past girlfriends and certainly not with Paz – the deceased mother of his son.

‘’alright sweetness, meet me here tonight, after eclipse’’ ___ could only swish her tail at the nickname and nodded oh so cutely. Picking up her basket she patted Spider on the head and bid them a good rest of the evening, needing to go back to her chores. 

Miles Quaritch, former human, now Na’vi, was the ultimate womaniser. He puffed his chest out and smirked to himself. He deserved a pat on the back.

Like two peas in a pod, Miles Socorro read his mind and pat his lower back (the only part the poor kid could reach)

‘’well done dad, well done’’

The sun hid behind the planet known as Polyphemus and casted darkness, but Pandora never truly sleeps.

Two blue figures where seen jumping across branches and leaping from root to root, the bioluminescent glow of the moon never ceased to fascinate the man who has never known fresh air and real plants. He looked around in awe at his surroundings and himself, lifting his hands in front of his face and taking note of all the little white dots speckled across his skin. 

___laughed joyfully and turned around ‘’Miles come’’ she beckoned him to carry on, wanting them to get to their destination as soon as possible. The recom dropped his hands and sprinted to catch up with the female, her being much more experienced with the terrain and therefore had the upper hand in their little race. 

On the way they both came across fan lizards and proceeded to disturb them, watching the light of the animal as they flew cross their faces and up into the air. Giggles sounded out throughout the forest, joyful laughs and quick inhales of breath as they finally arrived to where ___ wanted to take them. 

The tree of voices.

Both slowly crept towards the sacred space, their steps leaving glowing footprints in the grass. The tree shone beautiful pinks and purples as the hanging branches swayed ever so softly in the wind, it wasn’t the only thing that took his breath away.

There she stood, with the biggest grin on her face, eyes twinkling in the light of their surroundings and tail swinging happily. She moved to the centre of the tree ‘’this is Ultral Aymokriyä, the tree of voices’’ she whispered softly, ‘’you are a man now Miles, one of the people, you are able to hear our ancestors’’ she grabbed his hand and brought him closer to a cluster of hanging branches and connected her queue to them, inhaling as the voices of the past filled her ears.

Quaritch followed her actions and his pupils dilated at the newfound sounds, he never really believed in Eywa before, taking it up as some sort of false goddess. But this, this proves whatever he thought was wrong. ‘’They live. Within Eywa’’ the woman facing him sensed a change of air and looked up as atokirina fell slowly to land on their shoulders. She gasped and disconnected her queue, never has she thought that the great mother would bless them both tonight.

This is a sign.

Miles looked towards the atokirina and then to the love of his life and decided that she was the one for him. He walked closer to her until they where chest to chest and grabbed her face in his overly large palms ‘’___. Now that I am one of the people I am able to choose a mate’’ he felt her tense under his touch and looked straight into her eyes to look for any uncertainty ‘’you have helped me and my son in a time of need, despite us being humans, you have seen past our faults and accepted us into your arms with love’’. ___ started to tear up, not expecting this heartfelt speech.

And in such good Na’vi, thank you Spider.

‘’___.. oel ngati kameie”

The woman suddenly took his face into her own palms and connected their lips, it was soft and sweet. Both leaving them breathless and wanting more.

“Ma Miles, I see you’’

Just couple of bushes away, a little boy with blue stripes was caught lurking, watching the two blue aliens as they confessed their everlasting love. He held his breath and lifted his mask, wiping a singular tear from his eye.

His ship has finally sailed.

[heartthrobin]

round and round the garden (1)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.7k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, timeline is foggy but we’re working with s8 sam lookwise, reader is a creature, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), reader is uber tooth-rottingly sweet, highkey dumbification of sam winchester, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, destiel is canon, animals, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: literally just wanted to write something fantastical and cutesy so here it is !!! this is part 1 of (probably) 4 :))) let me know if you want to be added to taglist <33 love y’all

summary: the case was bizarre, but no aspect more so than the “witch” at the end of town with the prettiest goddamn face Sam had ever seen and the long pink scar up her arm that matched his own.

part two part three part four

The house wasn't big.

If Sam could really call it a house.

It was more like a cottage, reminding him of children's illustrated stories he never had the childhood to read. Of picnics and fireplaces.

The cottage dazzled like a water colour painting: green shrubbery seeping into every corner of the canvas, with lush pink and orange and yellow fruit speckled across the page.

Creeping around it, wrapping it's branches over the house like an arboreal hug: was the largest tree Sam had ever laid eyes on. The trunk was almost as wide as the street they were parked on and it's leaves draped low over the windows peeking from inside. It stood like a monolith against the backdrop of the forest leering behind it.

The line of trees were inched back just enough to almost convince Sam that this tree, the one engulfing your cottage, made them nervous.

A stone footpath lead to the door.

"I-- looked away for just one minute ..." the woman was inconsolable.

Jenny Perez sobbed into the arm of her couch. Her sister leered in the doorway.

Sam and Dean watched her from the couch over.

"Ma'am," Sam stepped carefully. "We know this isn't easy, but are you sure you didn't see anything in the moments leading up to Manny's disappearance? Even anything ... strange?"

Washington State. Five kids. Two months. Missing.

Each snatched out their gardens where they played.

Sam and Dean had been in Illinois on the tail end of a wendigo hunt when the news of a sixth missing kid blew far enough across the country to land a tiny column on the front page of the Chicago Tribune.

Manny Perez (7) was taken from the backyard of his home this past Sunday night in Fernglade, Washington.

His mother, Jenny Perez (38), said she heard rustling in the bushes behind their house and her son laughing before going to take some food out of the oven. When she returned, her son had disappeared.

Sure it was a terrible story, but regardless, it didn’t arouse enough suspicion out of either Winchester to make it their problem. To convince them it was anything more than a 53-year old psychopath holding children in his basement.

Not until Dean found the entry. The one in John’s journal.

He’d been looking for a passage he swore was in there on wendigo hunting seasons when the ruggedly clipped article fell from between it’s pages.

“Sammy …” he’d flashed him the clip, “look familiar?”

Several articles actually: eight kids missing from the little town of Fernglade. Every Autumn, every twenty years out of some poor mother’s backyard. John had only scribbled one lonely note amongst all the newspaper staining: THE TREES

“No! It’s like I told the police … I just heard him laughing.” Her voice came out as broken shards between the heaving and the hands clutched close against her chest. “I thought I heard another child’s voice, but that was—”

“Jenny, enough.” Sandra Perez piped up from the doorway, clearly enflamed. She turned from her sister to face the brothers on the couch. “What my sister is refusing to consider, and what the rest of us know to be true, is that Manny was taken by that witch.”

“Hermana … she isn’t a witch—”

“A witch?” Dean’s calibre had twisted to intrigued.

“She lives on the edge of town. By the forestline.” Sandra’s arms were crossed tightly. “Jenny always used to let Manny go afternoons out there, God knows why—”

“A lot of the neighbourhood kids did too.” Jenny interrupted, desperate in her approach: hands outdrawn. “She’s not a … a witch. She’s a bit strange but the kids loved her and she was kind to them—”

“And now look. All those children are gone, Jenny.”

The woman deflated back into the couch again, her tear-soaked sleeves came up to find purchase against her cheeks again. They muffled a sob.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean shrugged with a look that said “maybe?”

Dean turned to the sister, “What has you convinced that this woman is a witch?”

Sanda Perez looked affronted by the question. Like Dean had slapped her clean across the face.

“Oh! Well she’s … there’s always things burning at that house and people have said they’ve heard … like, chanting at night over there.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, grasping at the straws of gossip that had dripped down to her willing ears. “And her house is strange and she’s always in the forest at night when it’s unsafe. Who knows what … what rituals she’s doing out there!”

The brothers nodded. “Sure. Would you mind giving us that address?”

Now that Sam was faced with the house, getting his first view through the grimy passenger side window, he’d stray from the description of “strange”. He might have agreed that “enchanted” or “mystical” fit the description of the cottage better if he didn’t resent the magic clichés.

Dean’s finger pressed into the open journal page, tapping along the stained ink of John’s nearly illegible handwriting. THE TREES.

“Now that’s a tree if I’ve ever laid eyes on one.” He leaned over so his eyes could find the top of the tree from under the cover of the car.

Sam nodded. Something felt off when he watched the house, his stomach was twisting up past his other organs in his throat.

“I don’t know man …” his finger reached up to tug at the collar choking him at the neck. Maybe the fed suit wasn’t helping. “Something feels weird about this place.”

Dean scoffed loudly. He picked up the takeaway cup from the centre console, coffee long cold, and slugged the last of it down in one long sip. He surfaced again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Every place we go to is weird.” It was clear he didn’t share the sentiment. “I’m sure we’ve faced worse.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Well, come on. Let’s go meet this witch.”

Despite Sandra Perez’ less than convincing account of the “witch” at the end of town, it was still worth a visit to know who the townsfolk had decided was guilty in the matter of several counts of child kidnapping. How evil and vile of a person they must be.  

The air was crisp outside the car and the further they ventured up the path, the more delightful the aroma became. There was a thin string of smoke curling from behind the house, it carried a warm woody scent and the tussles of flowers lining the bannister of the porch was making Sam’s head spin happily. He managed a small smile.

“Nice garden.” He whispered offhand.

Dean seemed unconvinced, eyes flashing over the shrubbery with skepticism. “Yeah, well don’t get too close to anything. And don’t touch anything either.”

The door was tall, intimidating and clearly made of some fancy wood. It was slot between the white brick on the face of the house. The feeling from the car had only tripled on the walk up and Sam had his hand against his stomach. He could feel his blood rushing past his ears.

“Dean, I’m really not sure about—”

Dean’s fist connected with the door three times. Curt and professional, like a fed’s would be.  

There was an obvious shuffle behind the door, by then each beat of Sam’s heart was like a foghorn against his vibrating ribs and for a moment he was sure he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, there was sniffle by the foot of the door. A dog? And a voice, caressed gently by a giggle, ushering the animal away.

Sam’s brain was swelling too large for his head, the doorknob creaked from inside – his fists grew ice cold – with a soft grunt, the door was pulled ajar …

It stopped.

With a smile that knocked the wind clean out of Sam’s lungs, you greeted. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Warmth flooded back in to his palms and the thumping of his head cooled to a dizzy buzz. The nausea subsided to a hot bubbling.

Your frame took up the doorway. It seemed to fizzle around the edges, glimmering like light off a rippling pond.

Sam’s eyes slipped down your body like warm coffee down his throat. Your face was gentle, eyes round and wet beneath a set of suffocatingly black eyelashes. Wide-set thighs rippled all the way down to soft calves and pink painted toenails.

A cream crochet top reached over the expanse of your shoulders, sloping down where the rugged sleeve edges hung off your palms, a sparkling green skirt flirted at the top of your thighs. It’s silk ruffles shivered with your every breath.

If he was momentarily able to lift his eyes from you, which he most definitely was not, maybe he'd notice how Dean didn't seem even moderately as amazed as he was. That might have been the first sign if he did.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm agent Alice. This is my partner agent Cooper." Dean dug out the FBI identification from his jacket pocket, flashing it casually. "We just have a few questions regarding some recent--"

"Oh please," you waved your hand airily, "No need for the semantics. I've been expecting you, lunch is out in the garden."

The sound of your voice was sending waves of warmth through his stomach. Like he was sipping hot cocoa at your every syllable.

The ID in Dean's hand wobbled, his face clenched in confusion. "I-- sorry, what?"

In the shift of Sam’s gaze back up your form, he came to find your eyes set on his.

You smiled again. His tongue felt heavy and half-formed words gurgled at the back of his throat: begging to be spat out.

“I-I’m–“

“I know who you are.”

Your eyes flickered back to Dean and Sam felt hollow at the loss of their warmth.

“Not every day you have the Winchesters at your door, now is it.” You finished, stepping aside to allow them in.

“You know who we are?” Dean’s cadence dropped warily, clearly spearheading the conversation where Sam was finding difficulty. But your figure was already disappearing into the darkness of the house.

Despite his sceptic tone, Dean stepped in quickly after you. Sam trailed behind.

The cottage was warm. At least that was Sam’s first thought.

It was quickly ribbed out the way by the sheer visual of the interior.

There wasn’t a single blank wall or spot on the floor uncovered by carpetry.

Rows of paintings and stacks of photographs lined the space between wooden countertops and cherry red couches. Persian rugs and indoor plants spilled from a technicolour mirage of pots.

Desks were cluttered with books, paint supplies abandoned still wet. A dusty chandelier.

But more striking than the portraits and the vinyls and the rugs and the botany textbooks, were the creatures.

“Just watch for Goose,” she waved vaguely at a moving creature that was quickly nearing Sam’s feet, avoiding Dean’s question. “He won’t bite but he will try lick you—”

For a moment, Sam connected that this had to be the dog at the door. But the dog, Goose, was hardly a dog at all. Only once he was licking a stripe up the strip of bare skin at Sam’s ankle did he realize that … it can’t … that’s a fox.

And that wasn’t the start nor the end of it.

Draped over the couch was the largest snake Sam had ever seen. It was curled into the red frilled cushion, fast asleep. On the countertop, two ferrets were dipping in and out of sight behind the fruit basket. A gecko bathing in a sunspot on top of a stack of books. A flock of white budgies perched between the crystals on the chandelier. Three pairs of brown twitching rabbit ears peeking out from a basket of laundry.

It seemed Dean had also taken stark notice of the menagerie that was the cottage, so distracted that he’d forgone mentioning that his question had gone unanswered.

His finger pointed weakly at down at the white boa on the couch. “That’s … that’s a snake.”

You laughed again and Sam was sure he could get drunk off the sound.

“Nothing gets past you boys, hey?”

You kept walking, motioning for them to follow through another arched door out into the garden behind the house.

“Her name is Lydia. She’ll come join us when she’s awake.”

“I sure as hell hope not …” But it was muttered and Sam gave Dean a stern look for his comment. You didn’t turn back.

The garden behind the house was impossibly even more beautiful than infront. Vines creeped up the outer walls, a lemon tree grew along the underside the of the bigger tree engulfing the house. Shrubs and bushes and stark purple flowers. Your whole patch of land seemed untouched by the fingertips of Autumn that was reaching over the rest of town.

In the middle of it all: sat a small white painted table. You’d lined it with sheer cloth and platters of pastries, sandwiches and cakes.

There were three chairs around it.

“Sit, sit, sit.” You were wringing your hands, a light waft of nervousness fluttering off you. “I didn’t know what exactly you hunters eat or don’t eat … so there’s a little bit of everything–“

“Oh, hell yes.” Dean’s initial skepticism seemed to dissolve at the prospect of food and his ass was in the chair before you had chance to say anything else.

You seemed pleased. 

Sam’s face flushed red. He remembered that he still has yet to say a full sentence in your presence.

“Uh,” you turned to the sound of his voice. “T-Thank you.”

The speckles of light through the canopy of the trees drifted over your face. Sam had never noticed that on a person before.

He’d also never paid much mind to people’s hair. Not before yours. It looked like something ripped off the cover of a fashion magazine from the 70’s.

“You’re so very welcome.” Your voice was kind. “It’s more of an indulgence. I haven’t had guests in a while, not since …”

It faded off. “Well, not for a while.”

Jewels jingled around your neck, crystals wrapped in black string: dipping low down between the swell of your breasts that was just visible above the hemline—

Sam quickly swung his gaze back to the table where Dean was scarfing down an icing covered puff pastry.  

His brother was making wildly animalistic groans over the taste. For a moment, it was the only noise filling the space against the shiver of the trees in the midday gust.

Sam didn’t know where to find his tongue. He couldn’t get himself to step away from you.

“Coffee or tea, boys? I have it inside warming on the stove.”

“Coffee.” Dean responded blurrily around a mouthful. You turned to Sam again.

“I—just, I’m—coffee is good.”

You nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

He watched your figure retreat towards the house. The nausea was bubbling back into view.

“This is some fucking good cake.”

When your frame had disappeared back into the house, Sam turned back to his brother who was cleaning remnants of a second pastry off his plate with a tiny fork.

He quickly neared him, pulling out the chair across from him hastily.

“Dean, have you even considered the possibility that this food is poisened?”

Dean’s face twisted to a grimace, but only for a fraction of a moment before shrugging. “Hey. Worse ways to go.”

But Sam was shaking his head. The dizziness had returned.

“Do you feel sick? I’ve been feeling like … like off since we first step foot on this property.”

Dean watched him with hooded eyes, gaze flickering between his brother and the sliced ham and cucumber sandwich resting at the top of a nearby plate.

“Is that your explanation for the fool you’ve been acting since we walked in the door?”

Looking up from wiping sweaty palms down his trousers, Sam stalled. “W-What?”

“Exactly.” Dean gave in, reaching for the sandwich. “You haven’t been able to string three fucking words together since we got here.”

“I—she’s a witch, Dean.” Sam pressed. “I think she put like a … a spell o-or a hex on me!”

“She couldn’t have done that in the five minutes we’ve been here.”

“She knows who we are, she could’ve hexed our motel room.”

“Looks to me like someone has a crush—"

But Sam’s face was earnest. And maybe turning a little cherry red at the accusation. “Dean.”

Dean huffed. “Fine, fine, we’ll interrogate her and see what she says. If she’s a witch, we just gank her. Problem solved.”

“But—”

The sound of footsteps were reapproaching. The brothers fell quiet.

“Here we go.” Ringed fingers clinked against the side of an ornate red pot where you leaned over Sam’s shoulder. Steaming black liquid slipped into the teacup resting against it’s matching saucer in front of him.

His breath caught in his throat.

“You like the sandwiches?” You aimed at Dean.

He nodded, “Yeah, great stuff.”

You rounded the table and Sam worked hard not to make eye contact with the expanse of thigh peeking up at him as you moved.

“I have to admit, I really wish you’d brought along your angel.” You poured into Dean’s cup.

His head flickered up at the comment. “Cas?”

“I’m a big fan of his.” Your voice buzzed with eagerness, “The whole rebellion against heaven thing. I thought it was really cool.”

To label Cas "his angel" was a fair assessment. The matching fleshy red handprint on each of their chests had confirmed it a long time ago.

Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

You smiled and it made Sam’s stomach contents bubble again. He was starting to worry that maybe you really had cursed him.

The chair grumbled against the grass where you pulled it out. “Right, so I’m assuming you guys are here to question me? Kill me maybe?”

Awkward silence fell. Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

“Uh—”

“Well—”

Between another bout of laughter, you poured your own cup. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first, probably not the last.”

Dean took a long enough break from scarfing food down his gullet to look up at you. “Yes. To question you, for now.”

You nodded. Eyes finding Sam.

“What about you, Bigfoot? Here to kill me?”

Sam reached deep to find his voice again. “Uhm, just a few questions.”

Smiling, you sat further back in your chair. “Great. Go right ahead then.”

“How do you know who we are?” Dean leapt right in, repeating what had been previously left unanswered.

“Someone like me’s gotta know when hunters are moving in and out of town, don’t you think?”

“Someone like you?”

“Yep.” You nodded, seemingly unwilling to offer more than what was being asked.

Sam leaned forward. “So you are a witch then.”

You chuckled under your breath, leaning forward to stir your coffee as if he hadn’t tossed an accusation in your lap. “I see you’ve been speaking to people around town.”

Nobody answered.

So you filled the space again.

“No, I’m not a witch. Slimy bunch them, but then again, I guess you’re not too far off.”

“So what then?” Dean’s voice held that rough edge that dripped through when he was growing annoyed.

Grinning, you shrugged.

A chime, like a ringing sleigh bell, filled the space. Sam’s eyes were drawn just past your shoulders where a tall pair of opal pearlescent wings had appeared behind your head.

“No fucking way.”

Sam choked around nothing. There was a long pause, interjected with a long stare between the brothers across your table.

“Fairies don’t … they don’t exist.”

You reached for a sip of your coffee, looking unperterbed. “Dryad, actually. Give it a google.”

The wings shivered against the movement.

"So what," Dean's glare was heated over the set table, "Evil fairy godmother is that it? What did you do with the kids, eat them?"

For the first time since he'd lain eyes on you, Sam could make out a shine of something unkind crossed your features.

You set the teacup down slowly and your eyes met Dean's with the same heat of the sun glaring down into the garden: "I had nothing to do with those children going missing. I loved them."

Sam wanted to interject, but his chest was tight ... a straining grip of guilt was tightening his throat. She's cursed me, she's cursed me, she's cursed me--

"A couple of the parents said their kids used to come visit around here. Visit the witch at the end of town. That true?"

Gathering a breath and another sip from your cup, your face distorted from indignant to disconsolate. Sam could feel the tightness in his chest ebbing.

You nodded.

"Yes. That's true." From behind your seat, accurate to your predictions, the wide white outline of a snake-- of Lydia-- was creeping through the grass.

Dean's eyes fixated on her approach, all way up until she bound the foot of your chair up into your chest. She rested her head there like a lap dog. You stroked a hand over her head like one too.

"They used to come visit," you continued, "after school some days. I'd make them tea and cupcakes, and they'd come to visit my animals. I taught them about the trees."

A fond look had crawled onto your features. There was another tinkle of bells and the wings behind you disappeared.

"Now nobody comes. Parents are scared. They think I'm ... hiding their children in my basement or something."

Dean surveyed you for a few moments, seemingly deciding you were of little enough danger to dare another piece of white chocolate cake.

"Yeah, you can spare us the pity party sister." He muttered around his fork.

Sam sent him a short lived look. "Well, then if it's not you--"

"We haven't yet decided that it's not you, just by the way."

"--then what is it? Surely you have some idea?"

Lydia was curling up around the back of your neck now. Your eyes found Sam's - he momentarily felt like he was melting - and you sighed softly.

"I've heard some things, nothing definitive." Your hand stroked over the section of the snake still draped in your lap. "It's coming from the forest."

"And you heard this where?" Dean's tone dripped with skepticism.

"The trees told me."

Where Sam was sure would normally be laughter echoing from his older brother, instead, his hand stilled over his plate.

THE TREES.

His eyes flickered to Sam. It was quiet. Dad's journal.

"You can speak to trees?" Sam question was clement.

You seemed refreshed by it, watching him for a moment before nodding. "Part of the gig."

Another silence fell. You sighed. Sam could smell Dean's thoughts from across the table.

"Let me get this straight." Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "You're the garden fairy and you're telling us that the trees have something to do with this? Not really working your best angle here, if you ask me."

The garden rustled again. A white duck emerged from one of the bushes followed by a string of ducklings. You shrugged tiredly.

"I'm trying to help." Your voice was soft. Melancholic.

Your hand reached for a strawberry sitting on a tower of others just past Sam's cup, crocheted sleeve slipping back to your elbow to reveal the scores of golden, beaded jangling bracelets and--

Sam's blood ran all the way icy, turning to a slurry in his veins.

"Care to explain that?" Dean's voice came passing over him as if said from the end of a very long corridor.

Twisting your wrist to look, you shook your head. You grabbed the strawberry and brought it to your lips with the other hand.

"Oh, this?" A jagged scar peaked from the edge of your elbow up into the palm of your hand. It shone pink with marred tissue. "You think I got this from kidnapping children?"

Sam's heartbeat was ringing in his ears, he gripped the edge of his seat with whitened knuckles. His eyes chased up to the side of your face, finding the little spot by your eyebrow where ... the end was split with the mark of the edge of a blade in a fight gone wrong.

"Not mine unfortunately." You continued, dissolving the strawberry to pieces between your lips. "My other half's. I swear they're a bull-fighter or a boxer the way they bang me up."

Somewhere a bird chirped. There was a turbo washing machine in Sam's stomach on full blast and he thought he was about to be sick. At the same time, he was washed over by a feeling of inexplicable warmth. Like a cooled stream of bubbling champagne down his gullet. Like how they always said it might feel. Only now he could put a feeling to the talk.

"Listen, if we find out you've got something to do--"

"D-Dean," Sam's voice tripped over pebbles, "We should go."

The hands now released from the edges of his seat were shaking and his palms were scorching.

Dean looked at him, confusion tugging on his hardened face. Sam thought he might argue, but he nodded slowly. Maybe he noticed his brother's red, sweating face. Again, maybe he was just bored.

"Uh, yeah." He started to push the chair out, but his eyes drifted on a ham and cheese sandwich lingering on his plate. He hesitated.

You jumped up quickly, wrapping Lydia like a scarf, all in the same motion. "I've got a box you can take some food, if you'd like? I could just run inside--?"

"That would be great--"

"No, that's really not necessary--"

Your eyes drifted to Sam, waving him off with a smile that buckled his knees now that he was standing. "Don't be ridiculous. Let me go grab them."

Figure disappearing into the house again, Dean surveyed his brother. "What's up with you?"

Sam didn't answer. In fact he didn't say anything at all until you'd returned, Dean had stuffed as many sandwiches and pieces of cake he could fit into the tupperware and you packed Sam a box against his will.

Not as soon as he would have liked, they were standing at the door again out on the porch front.

"We'll be back, probably." Dean quipped officially, but he lifted the box of food all the same. "Oh, and uh ... thanks."

You were smiling again. "Sure. You know where to find me."

Not for the first time that morning, Sam was struggling to peel his gaze off your face. Your eyes were a swirling mess of colour and the light was flickering off of them at him.

"I'll see you around, Bigfoot."

Your shoulder peeked at him from under your top, a deep red welt matching his own left collarbone.

He nodded curtly, turning back down the path even before his brother. His collar was sticky against his neck and his brain was firing off signals the whole walk down, it begged him to turn back.

Dean jogged to catch up.

"What the hell is going--"

Sam slammed the door on him, crashing into the passenger's seat. He began ripping off his suit, the black jacket flung mindlessly into the back of the Impala.

By the time Dean fell into the driver's seat he was already fighting against the button securing the shirt to his right wrist.

"You have been acting all sorts of crazy since we got here, Sammy. What the hell is--"

Sam pried back the sleeve: bunching it at his elbow. He stuck his arm out to his brother.

Dean glanced between his face and his arm only once before pausing. The long jagged scar from his palm up his arm was impossible to miss. The one that sat identical on your arm.

"Oh."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths through his nose.

Dean's eyebrows rose into his hairline. He let off a disbelieving laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned."

-

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey

[strawberri-blonde]

02 - Devour Me - Neteyam

02 - eating out : gotta love October for all the horniness it brings out of us!

Photo credits to @woistmeinavocado

Summary: Neteyam gets his ears pierced and you can’t handle yourself

Warning: Smut, Neteyam devours your pussy.

Masterlist

The aroma of the freshly cooked food lingers in the air, playfully teasing your senses. The scent of sizzling meat and herb-infused bread fills the atmosphere with a mouthwatering fragrance. The forest comes alive with the cheerful chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of animals, creating a symphony of nature's melodies. The tranquility of the day momentarily shields you from the bustling village nearby.

You're not one to sit idle, continually seeking ways to ease your restlessness. With the afternoon to yourself, you channel your energy into adding the finishing touches to the tent's interior. Colorful beads adorn the entrance, and baskets filled with flowers and dried fruits are thoughtfully placed around your cozy home.

As you put the final touches on the evening meal, the peaceful ambiance allows you to immerse yourself in the moment fully. So much so that you didn't hear Neteyam's infamous whistle he let out, knowing he was close to home.

As you fluffed up the last fur pillow, a tiny squeal escaped from your lips as you felt a large hand caress the back of your head from your position on the floor. "Someone's been busy." You tilted your head back to see Neteyam towering over you with a huge smile covering his features. "Sorry, my yawne; I didn't mean to scare you."

A matching grin enters your face while Neteyam bends to sit next to you. "Here." You plopped the pillow beside you so he wouldn't sit on the hard surface.

"Thank you, baby." Your hand reached towards his thigh, needing his touch from not seeing him all day. "You really are making this feel like a home." An instant lavender hue flushed your face.

Neteyam let out a giggle, kissing your face everywhere but your lips. "Teyam." You groaned out with a pout, and it made him greedy. He loved how you both couldn't get enough of each other.

"What yawne?" He slowly teased his lips as he kissed the corners of your lips. "Need something?"

Your hand trailed up his thigh to his chest. "Neteyam, don't tease. I did all this work for you."

His fangs nimble on your soft skin before finally, captivating you in a much-needed kiss. Your breathing hitches as he pulls away, and you notice something.

"Oh, Eywa, your ears." Neteyam chuckled at your shocked expression. You continue to blush as you stare at the newly pierced ears of your beloved mate. His ears are now adorned with elegant blue beads, just like yours.

He sees you staring and grins widely, seeming quite proud of his decision to get his ears pierced. You carefully run your finger along his ear to not hurt him, feeling the rough texture of the piercings against your finger as you brush away a strand of hair. "Do you like them?" You kiss his ear gently in response and tell him how beautiful he is. Your emotions run wild, and you cannot contain yourself from embracing him tightly and covering his face with kisses.

"You look so handsome, Nete." Your eyes are still glued to Neteyam's ear, fascinated by the rough texture of the earrings against your finger. You suddenly realize that you smell the fantastic aroma of the food you made for the two of you. You lean away reluctantly and turn around to grab an empty bowl, filling it with all fruit, bread, and roasted fish. Meanwhile, Neteyam is staring at you with an adored look. You blush and hand him a bowl of the delicious meal you've prepared. "Here, Nete." You say, your eyes now trained on him as you wait for his reaction.

"Yawne, that smells delicious. I can't wait to dig in!" Neteyam's voice is a melodic baritone, and a wide, mischievous smile accompanies it. Your eyes are drawn to the tiny beads on his ears, and you can't help but imagine how his face would look wearing a lot of jewelry.

You giggle and kiss him on his soft lips before grabbing yourself a bowl as well. You both moaned as the taste. "It's so good, yawne." He reaches out and takes your hand in his. You smile at each other, and your hearts beat in unison.

You stare at Neteyam lovingly as you hear him compliment your hard work. You blush, feeling silly that you are so obsessed with his earrings. To cover up your embarrassment, you focus on the dinner you have prepared.

The warrior noticed this and laughed, "I'm glad you like them, Y/n. To be honest, I was scared that you would like them?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at the comment. "Why would you say that?"

"I don't know." He gets bashful and says, "I actually want to stretch my lobes, like my mom."

You wipe the corner of your mouth, then lift your intertwined fingers, pressing kisses to his blue skin. You are surprised to hear him ask about stretching his ears. You thought the little studs he has on now looked sweet, but you are open to the idea and think it would make him look even more handsome than he already is.

"Really? I think it would suit you." You offer him a smile and watch him take another bite of the food. You tell Neteyam that he 'looks even more handsome with the piercings in his ears.' The little blue beads highlight the color of his skin and bring out his robust facial features.

Neteyam grins cheekily at you, delighted to hear you say he looks good. He finishes his dinner quickly and leans over to kiss you again. There is something more passionate and intimate to this kiss compared to others you have shared in the past; perhaps it is the new look and style to his ears.

You did like how he looked with them—just seeing them made your insides tingle. You enjoy the new look on your mate and are eager to show him your appreciation.

A moan escaped his lips as you nibbled on his top lip. Hearing his response, you pulled back, mumbling, "So sexy, yawne." You captivated his lips onto yours, crawling into his lap.

Neteyam's hands gripped your thighs almost greedily, but you didn't mind. "Y/n." The warrior groaned, making you break the kiss to his eyes and see the same fire and desire in them.

You can't contain your feelings any longer, and you grab Neteyam in a tight embrace. You kiss him passionately and feel the rush of emotions as your tongues explore each other. Your hands explore every part of his body, caressing and driving him wild with desire.

"I need you, Teyam." Without warning, Neteyam grabbed you around the waist and pushed you onto the soft mat of your home. "Teyam." You squealed out, having him hover over you.

His kisses became hungry, and your insides warmed as you ran your hands along his broad chest and pulled him closer. You can feel his excitement, and his breath is warm against your skin. "If I'd known getting my ears pierced would've made you this insensible, I would've gotten'em sooner, my love."

You couldn't help but admire his handsome face as your eyes darkened. You reached behind him, gently gathering his hair in your hand. Then, you used the twine from your wrist to pull his hair back, revealing those blue beads for you to see. "Well, now that you know," You lean forward and kiss his cheek, jaw, and neck. "Why don't you give me a show and have yourself dessert?"

Your seductive tone had Neteyam chuckling darkly. He then looks at you with a playful grin, "What kind of show do you want to see, my Yawne?"

"You know what I want." The desperation was evident in the air. Your hands clawed at his broad shoulders to show him how much you wanted him, but Neteyam already knew.

His nostrils flared at the delicious scent of your arousal, causing a growl to escape his throat, sensing vibrations through his body. "Well, yawne," you gasp at the sensation of his body on top of yours.

"Teyam." You whined out as he licked a bold line up from your collarbone to your neck, stopping just under your jaw where he stopped to nimble on your skin.

"You still haven't told me what you want."

Your moans echoed through the tent, and your loincloth began to stick to you from your wetness. Your hands grabbed his queue at the base of his skull, edging him to grind against your throbbing heat. "Please eat me, Neteyam. I need to see your new earrings in action. Need to see that pretty face devour this pussy."

"Fuck, my sweet girl." His hand flew towards your touch on his queue, tapping you to let go, and you did so eagerly. Meanwhile, Neteyam’s lips never left your body. His lips felt warm as they applied hot, wet kisses to your skin. His ears flexed, twitching as versions of his name spilled from your gaped mouth. Your legs grew antsy as they needed him to hurry up and get where you needed him the most. “My needy girl.” His large hands pushed back the decorative chest piece made from purple leaves.

“Um, hm.” You nodded your head down against the floor of your shared home; then you felt his thumbs circle your perky dark blue nipples. “Oh my.”

Seeing that your head was thrown back, Neteyam moved his hands towards the waistband of your loincloth, then ever so gently blew a slight breeze on the sensitive bud, sending goosebumps to litter the skin. Then, suddenly, he bites down on your mound, having you jerk your head in his direction. Your pussy throbs in pain from the need, angry that she wasn’t getting any attention.

“That’s right, Y/n don’t be rude.” Your face displayed a bewildered expression, with furrowed brows and wide, searching eyes filled with desperation. Your lips were slightly parted, making them look so kissable. “If you want a show, you must watch sweet girl.”

Without warning, Neteyam shifts the furry pillows you both sat on for dinner. He moves the one you usually sit on under your head, but not without cradling the back of your neck, pulling your queue from under you to prevent you from wiggling on it to the point where you might hurt yourself.

Pressing a longing kiss to your lips, he puts his cushion under your waist, closer to the base of your tail near your butt, to give him better access. After the warrior was confident that you would be comfortable, he lowered himself between your legs, finally giving you what you so depressingly wanted.

His tender kisses trail up and down your thighs, making you mumble, “Such a tease.” A toothy grin took over his features before he flicked his tongue against the cloth fabric, keeping him from the sweet goodness of your heat. “Fuck.” Your breathing got fast and heavy, and your eyes locked down on him as he quickly untangled you from the material feeling you bare to him.

“How did I get so lucky, huh, Y/n?” your hands gripped the pillow behind you as you couldn’t believe the sight. Neteyam’s eyes were so dark, so full of desire, that there was the tiniest bit of fire surrounding his pupils. His lips were swollen from the constant kisses and seeing him with his hair pulled back, which he rarely does. It was too much. Then, let's add those blue beads pierced in his ears. They made him look more mature, and more decorative. They had you swimming in your juices.

“I’m the lucky one.” Animalistic gasps left your mouth as he kissed the junction between your leg and your awaiting folds. He then spits his saliva onto your cunt, making all sorts of aired breaths escape your throat to release in the lust-filled air. “Definitely the lucky one.”

The tip of his tongue barely caressed your velvet lips, like he was holding back to teeter you over the edge, driving you wild. “Tease.” You mumbled, earning the corners of his lips to curl up in a sly grin, but your mate didn’t say anything. Neteyam only continued to flicker his tongue softly against your growing wet need.

Then suddenly, he licks up from your wet opening to your throbbing clit. “Fuck.” You moaned, looking again into his eyes, making the moment even more intense. His tongue sped up slightly, covering you in his salvia. “Teyam, please, kiss me.” His non-existent eyebrows raised, giving you a sinful look.

Without much debate, the warrior shook his head, having his tongue wiggle more into your folds, making you spew out moans. Finally, his soft wet mouth closed around you, sucking on your soft skin, making him groan that sent such vibrations onto your clit. One of your hands left the pillow to reach for the top of his head.

Neteyam didn’t mind having your nimble fingers in his silk braids. Knowing that he was turning you on to the point where you couldn’t contain yourself made him feel more like a man than when he got his Ikran. Or when he killed a Talioang all by his lonesome. None of it made him feel like a warrior more than having you scream out his name.

So, when it came to eating your pussy, Neteyam always took his time to work you out. For every open mouth kiss, he placed on your cunt, his tongue explored more parts of you, finding all the nerve endings that drove you crazy.

Broken moans were the only thing escaping your throat as his large hands slipped for your thighs to slip under you to palm your bottom. “Yeah, grab my ass baby. Yank my tail.” His tongue slipped inside your warm vaginal walls as he palmed your butt so tight you were sure you'd have bruises tomorrow, but you always wore Neteyam’s markings with pride.

The warrior pulled away, making you groan in frustration, but it was quickly replaced with a yelp as you felt his hand grab onto your tail, pulling on it and making you fully submit to him. Your bent legs spread open, allowing the large man to have all the room to devour you completely.

As his hot mouth returned to your cunt, your shared tent filled with your moans. His tongue lapped up your juices, swirled around your entrance teasingly, and slipped it into your swollen walls. “Neteyam.” You moaned as his tongue fucked itself inside of you. Your walls clenched around him from the delicious sensation.

Your hips circled against his damp face, and you couldn’t help but sink your head back into the pillow, barely looking at his performance when you felt his nose nudge your clit. But you mustered through the overwhelming sensation, worried that he might stop if you didn’t look at him, and you couldn’t let that happen.

You had slipped away from the top of his head towards your nipple to squeeze them in your hands, letting out more moans as his tongue slipped out of your cunt to circle your clit.

Neteyam saw this and moved his hands from under you to throw your legs over his broad shoulder to slip his fingers to circle the sensitive buds of your nipples and pinch them between his fingers.

“Fuck, Neteyam, so good, baby. Make me feel as unreal.” Your lower half twitched in pleasure as the warmth in your abdomen began to form.

Your breathing hitched as his mouth swallowed over you entirely. His left hand remained on your breast while the other returned to your ass, giving it a form slap. “EYWA!” you screamed out from the sensation, and his tongue rolled your clit over and over, making juices leak on your home's woven mat, and some ended up on Neteyam’s cushion.

The way Neteyam worshipped your body became too much; your orgasm was approaching. His hand slipped away from your breast, sensing that you were close.

Neteyam’s tongued continued to suck and slurp at your clit. Without warning, the warrior inserted his two fingers into your cunt, where you immediately clenched around them and arched your back.

“Neteyam, I’m so close.” You whimpered as your body was convulsing at the hands and mouth of your mate.

His fingers plunged into you at a steady pace, and his tongue was sending you to your great mother as his face nestled itself into your messy cunt. Your mouth opened, letting out broken moans as your climax finally took over your nerve-endings.

Your body continued to shake in his grasp as the euphoric feeling of your orgasm washed over you. “Tey-” you managed to squeal out before your vision got a little blurry, and your body stopped all its movements, feeling his touch's lasting effects.

Neteyam made sure to lick up all your sweetness before he gently settled the lower half of your body on the mat, then crawled over your tired body, kissing your skin softly before reaching your peaceful features. The future leader of the Omatikaya always loved seeing your face after he’d made you cum. No matter how tired you’d be after the long hours of lovemaking, a silly grin always covered your face.

As his wet lips contacted yours, your hand flew towards his face, tasting yourself on his tongue. As your tongues lazily kissed, you groaned in his mouth, making him pull away to offer you a mischievous grin. “You ready for more yawne?”

You didn’t say anything but grinned back at him, pulling him into a kiss, trailing your hands to trace the tops of his ears, making sure not to touch his freshly pierced skin. “As long as you keep these earrings and your promise to make the gages larger, you can have me every night for as long as we breathe.”

His dark blue eyes glisten in anticipation as he stares into yours. He leans in and presses his lips against yours once more. He pulls away, breathless. "Promise." He whispers seductively, gazing into your eyes, his voice a little breathless. "Every night for as long as we breathe." Your response intrigues him and arouses his desire even more. He leans in and kisses you intensely, his hands sliding along your body. The heat is unbearable, and the passion is electric, making you both so happy that you have each other for life.

Happy Day 2 of Kinktober 2023. Would you be able to give me some read recommendations, or is there a specific day you'd like me to write? Maybe, I can make it happen if I still need to write for that day.

~ Caroline

[natsuki-bakery]

⁎˚ ఎ Demon Slayer Agere ໒ ˚⁎

Can you write a caregiver Tomioka Giyuu x gender neutral little reader one-shot? Tank you!!

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm orange glow across the quiet forest. Tomioka Giyuu walked along the path, the sounds of rustling leaves and distant birds providing a soothing backdrop. He was on his way to the small clearing where he often found solace. Today, however, he was not alone. The little one at his side, full of curiosity, skipped along, their eyes wide with wonder. Giyuu felt a rare warmth in his heart as he watched them. Their playful laughter cut through the heavy atmosphere that often surrounded him.

"Look, Giyuu!" you exclaimed, pointing at a cluster of wildflowers. "Can we pick some ?" He nodded, crouching down beside you. "Just a few. We don’t want to hurt the plants"

Together, you picked the flowers, Giyuu's careful hands guiding the little one as they arranged the blooms into a small bouquet. The air was fragrant with their sweet scent, and for a moment, all thoughts of demons and responsibilities faded away

Once they finished, Giyuu stood, holding the bouquet delicately. "What do you want to do next ?" You looked up, eyes sparkling. "Can we have a picnic ? Just you and me ?"

Giyuu couldn’t help but smile, the tension of his usual demeanor softening. "Of course" They found a patch of soft grass under a large tree. Giyuu laid out a simple meal—rice balls and some sweet fruit he had prepared. As they ate, they talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing easily. Giyuu listened intently, nodding at their stories and ideas

When they finished, you lay back on the grass, staring up at the sky. "Dada, can we pretend we’re on an adventure? Like fighting demons ?". Giyuu chuckled softly, leaning back beside you. "Alright. But remember, it’s just pretend. We’re safe here.."

They both closed their eyes, imagining a world filled with fantastical battles and heroic feats. Giyuu felt himself relax, letting go of the weight of his role as a Hashira. Here, in this moment, he was just a caregiver, and the little one was his treasured companion

After a while, you turned to him with a serious expression. "What if we were the strongest fighters? Wouldn’t we be able to protect everyone ?". Giyuu met your gaze, a flicker of something deep within him stirring. "Yes," he replied softly. "And we would protect each other, too..."

The sun began to set, casting a golden hue across the clearing. Giyuu knew it was time to head back, but he felt lighter than he had in ages. He took the little one’s hand, intertwining their fingers. "Let’s go home" As you walked back, Giyuu couldn’t help but think that these moments with you made the burdens he carried a little easier to bear. They were a reminder of hope, of innocence in a world filled with darkness

And for the first time in a long while, he felt the warmth of connection, knowing that together, they could face anything that came their way.

If you're in the basic criteria , are DSMP fans, vivziep0p fans , h0tel/h3lluva b0ss fans, Owl h0use fans, St4r butterfly fans, Ghibli fans, ddlg/abdl blogs, nsfw/k!nk blogs, anti-agere blogs, or anti Christians/Christianity blogs : just dont interact !

[kykyonthemoon]

Limerence

(noun) — a mental state of profound romantic infatuation, deep obsession, and fantastical longing.

⋆˚✿˖° This chapter is a part of a mini-series of dark fairy tales and romance sets in another universe. It consists of three chapters, each with a Male Lead and is separated from one another.

⋆˚✿˖° Character x Reader/MC, from another (OC's) point of view. Reader/MC's pronounce is "she/her/hers".

⋆˚✿˖° Warnings & tags: 16+, MDNI, angst, hurt, thriller, obsession, major character death, dark fantasy, dark fairy tale, necrophilia.

⋆˚✿˖° Howard is my OC.

⋆˚✿˖° Read more chapters:

✦ Rafayel's ✦ Zayne's

⋆˚✿˖° Masterlist

⋆˚✿˖° My friend Cery made an art for this fic here: x

Chapter: The Sleeping Beauty — in which he paints this world blue for his Queen

⋆˚✿˖° Word count: ~3k

There was something about the lakeside cottage which scared Howard to the bone.

That area was formerly abandoned, dingy, damp, and home to numerous insects and reptiles. Few people ventured there except to hunt or fish. An ideal spot for Howard and his fellow children to hide and play when they did not wish to be found out by their parents.

Yet a few months ago, when a young couple bought the property and moved in, all of a sudden it was transformed into a paradise. A variety of peculiar flowers and plants bloomed, forming a meadow surrounding the cottage. The warm light emanated, and the aroma of tea and baked delights consistently made the kids drool. They were occasionally handed sweets by the new owner, and everyone of them was bribed in this manner, oblivious to the fact that their headquarters had just been taken from them.

Nevertheless, that was not what bothered Howard. That cottage made him anxious because, in addition to the abrupt change that he had yet to adjust to, he felt little sympathy for the new owners.

The brain of a ten-year-old child prevented him from generating an answer for this. He knew only one thing: there was an odd vibe beneath the new neighbors' tenderness, as if they were keeping some sort of secret that they wanted no one else to find out. His hunches were usually right.

“Here's your pie.” The husband said as he handed Howard's friend a hot, fragrant loaf of pie. “I'm sorry, kids, but you must find somewhere else to play. My wife is not well. She's in need of a quiet place to rest.”

All the children nodded, except Howard. He paid close attention to his neighbor. The man appeared youthful, clothed simply and comfortably. With his bright hair and blue eyes, he made people feel at ease and cozy. His beaming face appeared quite amiable, and the way he dealt with the children indicated that he was a trustworthy person. However, in fairy tales, witches frequently disguised themselves as nice people as well. And the person who took away these children's playground was clearly not a decent one, even though according to the law, they had every right to do so.

Howard's reluctance was not enough to stop him from returning to the lakeside cottage. He appreciated this location and the tranquility it offered. He went about nearby alone, inquisitive about the area and its new residents, but did not dare venture forward to alert them. On average, he would see the husband awake at about midday. He went into the forest to harvest fruits and hunt, and they occasionally ate the fish he caught in the lake. On the contrary, the wife was rarely seen. Howard sometimes caught her figure sitting at the window, staring out. He was unable to see her face properly, but he had the impression that she was really beautiful and gentle.

On pleasant, sunny days, the neighbor would maneuver his wife's wheelchair out into the heart of the blue flower field he had planted. He rested next to her on the ground, listening to the birds sing and told her about everything that had transpired here, including the children.

"Isn't this area quite calm? You enjoy it here a lot, don't you? I do too. Children come every now and then to bother us. But fret not; I told them to find another place to play. It appears that they are effortless to handle... Such adorable little ones."

The husband paused for a moment. He took a hold of her hand and caressed it. “Children could be a source of delight. Do you also wish we could have a child of our own in the future?”

There was no response from his wife, but he smiled as if he had heard her heart.

Aside from the two odd neighbors, Howard was intrigued and horrified by the flower meadows around their property. He had never seen such flowers blossom in this land before. They were an elegant blue tint, similar to forget-me-nots, but at night they emitted a soft glow under the moonlight. They eventually extended from all sides of the cottage to the woodland and the edge of the lake. They appeared pleasant at first sight, but Howard was alerted the moment he attempted to pick one.

“Don't touch them.” The neighbor said, now known to Howard as Xavier.

“Why is that?” The boy inquired promptly.

“…” Xavier gave not an instant answer. It seemed that he was finding words to explain it to a child. “It's best that you stay away from this place.”

Howard pouted. He did not like the feeling of being unwelcomed.

“Are these flowers poisonous?” asked Howard once more.

“These flowers are for healing… Don't damage them, kid.”

"Oh is that so." The youngster nodded. If the flowers were used for healthcare purposes, he would be more cautious around them. At the same time, he was intrigued about what diseases these flowers might cure.

The peaceful days continued to pass. After a few conversations, Howard realized that his neighbors were not as frightening as he had imagined. They were just a little odd. Xavier did not have any official employment; he simply stayed at home and relied on his hunting talents. He must have chosen to live this way since his ailing wife required particular care. Howard was tremendously curious about his wife, though. Especially after one afternoon when he happened to meet her by the window.

That day, Howard spent his time pursuing his family's mischievous cat. That cat was quite old and sick. Yet for some reason, she managed to find her way to the neighbor's cottage and slept soundly in the middle of the flower meadow. It was said that when a cat knew he or she was about to leave this world, he or she would flee to a place where the owners could not discover. But Howard prayed that day would not come soon enough.

He called the cat from afar, but the animal paid no heed. After a while, he entered the neighbors' private space.

The cat laid close to the couple's open bedroom window. Howard stared for a while, fearful of being caught and chastised. Not seeing Xavier's shadow anywhere, he felt secure in moving on.

Someone sat beside the window. Howard suspected it was the wife. She did not move even though he was certain that in her sitting position, she would have seen the boy approaching.  She simply remained there like a statue behind a thin curtain. Howard was hesitant and intrigued. He halted when he was only a few meters away from her.

“Erm… Hell, ma'am… M-May I bring my cat home?…”

He held his breath and waited, but she did not answer. Perhaps she was asleep. He saw her and Xavier by chance several times previously, and in those moments she also remained silent. Her condition must have caused her to be like this. He once had overheard grownups discussing how her entire body was immobilized and that she could not even talk at times.

Without seeing any reaction from the neighbor, Howard reached down and scooped up the cat. At that time, a powerful breeze blasted through the area, causing the curtains to lift. Howard looked up, but the dust in the air caused his eyes to squint. He could barely see a portion of the pallid face of the woman seated in the room. Her eyes were closed.

Then, blocking his view of the window was a familiar tall figure. It was Xavier. He flashed the child an expression of rage.

“Get that cat out of here. Now!”

It was the first time Howard had seen him angry. Although the neighbor remained cordial, the tone of his words dismayed the child. In an instant, he pictured witches consuming children in his head. But Xavier was much more terrifying than that. Howard instantly embraced the cat and fled out of their meadow.

For the following week, Howard refused to enter the area surrounding the neighbors' cottage anymore. He occasionally came across Xavier around town on his way home from school. The man had reverted to his regular state, even waving at Howard despite his intentional turn in another direction.

However, Howard's cat was fearless. She continued to stray off to Xavier's place frequently. One time, the youngster caught the animal on her way home in the early morning, in her mouth a blue flower that only blossomed in his neighbors' meadow.

“What are you doing?” Howard yelled at the cat. He removed the crushed flower and discovered a glittering blue tint in the animal's tongue.

The cat must have swallowed the neighbor's medical plants. Howard kept this a secret because who knew how enraged Xavier might be if he found out? Perhaps there was truly enchantment in those flowers. His family's elderly cat, who had been severely ill, suddenly became healthy again. She ran around and lived with them for a very long time, surprising everyone, but Howard kept his mouth shut.

That was presumably one of the neighbors' mysteries, which the child eventually came to respect. He stopped being inquisitive, but something about the cottage still made him shiver every time he passed by. Perhaps not because he still feared Xavier, but more because of his wife.

One brilliant sunny day, Howard happened to see her sitting alone in a flower meadow. She turned away from the child and appeared to be reading a book. Initially, Howard intended to just observe from afar. By coincidence, the book in her lap glided to the ground. Howard was concerned, unsure if he should come and help or just leave. He glanced about, but failed to locate Xavier anywhere. Perhaps he had gone into town or was hunting in the woods.

Howard went to help the neighbor. He thought about having his whole body paralyzed like that, it would truly be a curse. What would become of him when he could no longer dance and play? What would happen when he could only watch life pass in front of him while remaining motionless as a sculpture? He wondered if the neighbor could still feel the warm sunlight embracing her. What a pity! Pity for the husband who was at her side day by day, taking care of her. They were too young to have suffered such a tragedy.

When Howard approached her, he detected an unusual aroma. The scent was comparable to their flower field, but with a really nasty undertone. The stench made him think there was a dead animal lying somewhere. The youngster leaned down to take up the book. It was not an ordinary book, but it featured characters and illustrations that he could not comprehend. Yet another kind of language? Nevertheless, it was not appropriate to delve into other people's affairs, so he closed the book and returned it to the wife.

Only then did he get a close look at her. And it required all of his courage to stay on his feet.

Seated in the wheelchair was a person, or he did not know if she was still a human then. He still recognized her appearance; still seemed like what he had seen a few months earlier, but half of her face was lost. Howard saw half of the skull covered in pale skin, while the other half had rotted just completely. The white bones were utterly visible, from the cheeks to the chin. Howard claimed to have seen her collarbones exposed with no skin covering them, despite the fact that the majority of her body was clothed in heavy layers of clothing. She presumably lacked a heart inside all of that. 

She was a dried skeleton draped in decaying human skin.

Cold sweat streamed down Howard's spine. He trembled and placed the book in her lap, where her decomposing hands were nicely positioned. Before he could shout, he heard the rustle of trodden leaves behind him. Bewildered, he whirled around to see Xavier emerge from the forest, wielding a sword.

It was unimportant if he had been apprehended yet. Howard sprinted all the way home with all the strength left in him. His fever reached forty degrees celsius, and from that day on, he vowed never to return to that wooden cottage by the lake again.

“My dear,” Xavier's warm voice like the sun filled the room, which included a bathtub full of flowers in the center. He lifted his loving wife from her wheelchair and tenderly dipped her into the bathtub. The cool blue water enveloped her entire body. He put in a few other necessary details before kneeling alongside her.

“Today is our five hundredth day on this planet.” Xavier used his hand to catch the magical water and let it fall through his fingers, touching his beloved wife. “Do you like this place?”

The wife was silent as she always was. Her eyes closed, allowing Xavier to soak her hair and face. Half of her face had decayed, revealing bones and teeth. But it was of no significance; as soon as this ritual was over, she would revert to her original beauty.

"That neighbor kid saw you." Xavier's voice rang evenly. "He raced away. But do not be sad. "To me, you are always the most beautiful person."

Xavier picked up a flower from the water and set it in her hair. Nothing in this universe could compare to her. Even if her physique had changed. Even if she was only a withering skeleton.

"I always love the way you look, no matter what."

Xavier's hand continued to repeat the ritual of taking water and pouring it all over her body. Moments afterward, a new layer of skin began to develop around the decaying remnants.

"Worry not that others would discover our secret. That child wouldn't open his mouth. Even if he does, I have a way to silence him. Nobody will believe him. All of this was due to my carelessness. I left you alone out there."

The rustling sound rang out again as Xavier bathed his wife. From head down to neck, body and arms and legs. Her body was gradually restoring under the effect of the magic water.

“I apologize to you, my Queen. From now on I will never let you be alone."

He kissed her forehead. The water was as blue as the flowers outside their cottage, covering her exposed body. He planted them for her. As long as they grew, she would not perish. They would be together forever. Nothing could separate them anymore, not even death.

Xavier, the Crown Prince of Planet Philo, was to wed the girl he loved. Yet fate tore them apart, as she endured a terrible disease and did not survive much longer.

“Wait for me. I will go find a cure for you. When I return, we shall hold the wedding immediately.”

Xavier whispered beside her sick bed before departing. He and his fleet had discovered traces of a legendary flower, said to have the ability to cure all diseases. He traveled light years to find it and returned, only to find her lying cold in a coffin.

It was supposed to be their wedding day, but when he came back, a funeral was all that greeted him.

Her family members told him that she could not wait for him, and all she wanted for him was to forget about her and move on. But, how could he? He had no desire to go through a single day without her.

He refused to accept her demise, grasping the flower in his palm, he stole her coffin.

They traveled to another world where no one knew or could track them. He performed the wedding ceremony for only the two of them. Then he planted the miraculous flower he had found and utilized it to nurture her. It failed to bring the dead back to life, but it did keep her body from withering. As long as the magic from these flowers lasted, she would forever be young and beautiful.

They would live, happily ever after as in a fairy tale. She was his Queen. For her and only her, he could paint this whole planet into a blue meadow.

“Stay with me… Please…” He begged. His tears combined with the poison created from blue flower petals that he poured over her body. He held and kissed her eyes, lips, then fingers, and hands. He wished to feel her warmth again.

Yet that warmth had been lost, along with her soul. What Xavier could hold on to was only her body, which no longer felt anything, including his love.

Many moons later, the woodland transformed into a fascinating forest of blue flowers. Everyone was drawn to its beauty, yet only those who had witnessed the horrors concealed deep inside the forest held its tale in high regard. The tale of Sleeping Beauty and her Prince.

Howard, now an elderly man, had returned to his hometown after spending several decades far away. He could still recall the path back to the wooden cottage by the lake. In fact, the blue blossoms led him back.

Perhaps, his neighbors no longer lived there. Possibly it was his old eyes that were deceiving him. Howard saw that nearby the cottage was the silhouette of a familiar woman still, the most beautiful flower in that meadow; she was sitting and reading a book. And, always at her side as a shadow, that young man with the same features as in his childhood memories placed a hand on her shoulder. He gently turned his head, glanced at Howard, and smiled.

[https-furina]

last one for now i promise shsfhxhk.

29 and tighnari? 🥹

✎ strong nose, stronger scents.

ft. tighnari x gn!reader

prompt: "you smell fantastic."

w.c. 554 words

content: fluff, established relationship, reader will never be used to the random crap tighnari says, cuddly tighnari

notes: NARI NARI NARI NARI NARI I LOVE YOUUUUU

various fruits decorate the kitchen counter before you, each one with its own unique taste - a number of them from other regions thanks to your friend, the traveler. there's sunsettias, apples, zaytun peaches, amakumo fruits - just a few of the fruits you were tasked with slicing up into bitesized pieces. to others, it is no important event that tighnari has organised a picnic for the both of you. a picnic is a fairly normal idea, a cute date. to you, it is something you cherish heavily.

tighnari very much likes to say he has more time on his hands than he can handle but in-between patrols, destroying withering zones - something you're not fond of him doing - and tutoring collei, he always seems to manage getting whisked away and into more trouble that arises. you're fond of how work centred your boyfriend is but sometimes you wish he could catch a break for more than a few minutes. you joke that gandharva ville would collapse without tighnari there to support it as the backbone but you're starting to believe it's the reality. gandharva ville would crumble without its infamous forest watcher.

a fluffy tail unravels from where the fox is huddled up - most definitely not cuddling the dark fluff that curls around him while he naps - as he begins to stir, waking up to the many, many scents wafting from the kitchen. even with the mildly overwhelming amount of fruit he can make out, he still drinks his favourite scent in; the one that belongs to his beloved partner. the partner that he isn't sure where he'd be without them, you've said that he'd probably overwork himself to death without you there to force a nap every now and then.

arms wrap around you as a chest presses against your back. you're startled for a moment before you spot the tall ears peeking into your peripheral vision when tighnari buries his face into your neck, suffocating himself in your scent as if the fruit will drown it out despite the proximity in which he's pressed himself against you. his tail wags in a slow, rhythmic motion as the half asleep fox falls content once more.

"what's got you so happy?" you laugh as you spot the wag of his bushy tail, his ear twitching as he raises his head to prop his chin on your shoulder instead.

"you smell fantastic." he mumbles drowsily as if it's the most normal thing in teyvat. you choke on the air you're breathing, heat rushing to your cheeks and the tips of your ears - you even have to take a moment to stop chopping the fruit you've been so devoted to. your heart is pulsing faster than it should for a human, tighnari notes as he leans to kiss your cheek.

"nari, you can't just say stuff like that!" you whine, not missing how the sly fox grins at your embarrassed state. it was so easy to make you flustered sometimes, tighnari can't help but tease you just to get a rise out of it.

he nuzzles his cheek against you before he stands, much more awake than when he had first appeared in the kitchen. gloved hands reach around you to grab a piece of ripe sunsettia, popping it into his mouth, "what? i'm just telling the truth."

© https-heizou 2023.

[bunnyuki]

UNSAID WORDS. toge inumaki

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ) gift for: @darlingspeach

CW!! AFAB READER, she/her pronouns. au fantasy/medieval. toge is a dragon, reader is a human. mentions of slaughtering/people dying/hunting. mentions of blood and injuries. he doesn't understand much of human language. this is very short and silly, i apologize. SFW, FLUFF.

YOU DON’T SEE as many dragons around as you used to. the kings of the earth and the heavens were destroyed by greed. their wings were struck by spears and cannons, their blood was collected and tested as a product. the rich wear their scales at dinner parties, because they become necklaces and delicacies. their teeth became hunters’ trophies. dragons had nothing against humanity, but humans had a desire to have everything. their ruin brought that of other peoples.

and so, the remaining dragons fled. running from the world, choosing the loneliest places to call home. deprived of reliable companions, of their companions with wings, dealing with the losses of their loved ones. nothing was left for them but memories and bones. so disappeared that they became merely legends.

fantastic stories that parents told their children to amaze them, or scare them. false and lying stories for merchants desperate to sell their products cheaply. one of the strongest, most influential and powerful races in the world. reduced to nothing more than tales. a small belief spread among the dragons. humans were dirty. rotten, spoiled. disgusting creatures that cared about nothing. the sick apple that would rot the rest of the basket. by extension, hatred for those creatures that had barely sustained themselves for a century grew. humans who encountered dragons and their treasures did not come out alive to tell the story. and no one heard from them again.

life in a village is not easy. taxes are merciless, and nobles drown in champagne while families in your village count coins to find out if they can eat. you are not exempt from this. the marquis who controls the region is obsessed with more amounts of money. the village has been going through difficulties, and with winter approaching, some have already said their goodbyes. people will die. that is a fact. for the king and his court, nothing more than numbers.

the sweet embrace of death comes to seek everyone, eventually. this is the mortal life. but that’s not how you’ll end up. huddled in a bed, on a cold morning, praying to a god who wouldn’t listen to you. you refuse. that will not be your end.

plantings have been disappointing. food becomes scarcer every day, and from what it looks like, this will be a year with lots of snow and abundant hunger. and for this reason, a good deal of adapted hunting became the main source of food and income.

the local forests are dark, specks in the middle of nowhere that is your village. full of trees and animals that need to hide from people like you. like a squirrel collecting dried fruit and nuts. all you have is a rusty knife, a crossbow with five arrows, and faith. not in god, not in greater forces. all you need is yourself.

the traps you planted exist in strategic points. hidden by grass and branches, abusing the natural environment to create the illusion of safety. merely for a noose to tighten around the body of a small animal, or a bear trap to bend into a cruel bite.

checking the traps daily has become part of the routine. just as many other villagers were forced to adapt, so were you. the skins are usually removed and worn by you. or sold.

instead of finding a small animal split in half by your bear trap, what’s in front of you now is a boy. a young one. maybe your age. his purple eyes seem to contain decades of wisdom you couldn’t dream of. his hair has an abnormal tone, like a very pale shade of blonde. he turns over and groans, his ankle caught in the trap. the metal teeth dig deeper into the flesh every time he moves, and the blood is thick and red.

but what really draws attention to him are his horns. and the tail. highs rising from the forehead and rising, white like the snow that will soon fall, with purplish tips. the same pattern for the long, tail full of scales. his nails are sharper than normal. when he opens his mouth to groan in pain, his teeth look like fangs. around his mouth, there's a strange pattern that doesn't seem to be a painting, but his skin. snake eyes and fangs.

he raises his arms to try to open the trap and free himself. the skin on the forearms has traces of scales of the same whitish tone.

his first instinct seeing you is hissing. actual hissing. like a scared snake, ready to pounce. the reaction of a scared, injured animal. you— pity him.

of course, you shouldn't. legends about dragons make it very clear what they think of your species. this boy would make you a forgotten corpse once he had the chance. but that didn't seem true. he was scared. alone, lost. his ankle caught in a trap that hurt more every moment. contrary to common sense, you choose to put the beast down and follow your instinct. approaching slowly, with your hands raised.

“easy there.” another hiss. it's a clear message. stay away. your steps are slow and you show that you are not holding any weapons. “i'm not going to hurt you. i'll help.”

no matter how sweet and loving you force your voice to be, the distrust in his eyes doesn't go away. you crouch before the stranger, staring for a moment. he is a pretty boy. you can't deny that.

your hands grip the bear trap, and you look him in the eyes. “I'm going to open this, and you're going to take your foot off. all good? on three. one. two. three.”

at the end of the count, you muster the strength your hungry muscles allow you to open the bear trap. the stranger quickly understands the message and moves away from it, allowing you to let the metal go without consequences. his hands release the trap, and it closes again with a click. the metal resonates as it strikes itself. there is fresh blood on his fingers and on the trap, and his face turns to look at the boy.

he's sitting by a tree, grabbing his injured ankle with a groan. you approach slowly again, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. his eyes narrow in suspicion.

“hey. hey, i'm not going to hurt you. okay? i promise. just let me help.” he frowns at your words, his lips parting to reply in a language you do not know. oh, well. this can be complicated.

“i don't— i don't understand.” you pause, moving to sit besides him. he furrows his brows, but doesn't say a word. “can you understand what i am saying?”

by his pout and frown, you think the answer is no. okay. what to do now, then? you quickly point to yourself, pronouncing your name out loud. then again, slowly. he repeats, the sound beautiful on his tongue. his pronunciation is a little bad at first, but the third time he's repeating it, he seems to have understood.

he follows the example, pointing to himself. “toge.” he states, and your eyes narrow.

“toge. okay. i think that's your name. you are injured.” you point out to his ankle, and he stares at you for a moment. if he could speak your language, you are sure he would be sarcastic right now. oh, don't say.

you gesture nervously, trying to sign you wish to help. after almost ten minutes of denying and hesitation, he holds out his injured foot to you. your hands are gentle, and you don't touch the injured area unless you have to. he hisses and groans in pain.

toge stares at you, decided to say something. his lips part, and he sounds confident when he says. “salmon.” you frown.

“what?”

he repeats again. salmon. seaweed. tuna mayonnaise. he only talks about...ingredients? toge is desperately trying to tell you something, confused why you don't understand the message. then it clicks. oh.

“you only know ingredient names. that's all you know in my language.” you murmur. he nods slowly, and you sigh. communicating like this won't be impossible, but it will prove itself as a challenge. but these thoughts are for later. he is injured. because of you.

it's your obligation to help this young dragon — secretly. the people in the village would take every last drop of his blood for gold coins. you'll have to improvise. “okay. uhh. does it hurt much?”

he pauses. “salmon?” another sigh escapes your lips.

this will be complicated.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Okay! So, is there an RPG that's more rural, like farms and fields, windmills and carts, swamps and forests, but also still like big monsters and magic? Vibes wise, something akin to Amphibia the show, or Atomicrops the game. I'm sure one could just repurpose any regular RPG to make a world like that, but I'm curious :3c

THEME: Farming Plus

Hello friend, so I have a few games here that feel at least slightly fantastical, as well as a game that definitely works as a post-apocalyptic kind of game, although I don’t think any of the games listed here have the cartoonish-ness of either Apmhibia or Atomicrops. My main goal was to find games that felt like they communicated a slice-of-life style of game, while making room for a setting that feels outside of our normal experience. I hope you still find something that works for you!

Take Root, by katykoop.

You've achieved the dream! You have a farm, in a cool place full of forests and the mysterious dungeon keep, and there is the promise of glory-- with a festival at the very end of the year. Play against several farmers, with a world master controlling it all, to win by having the most points in your farm display. 

Each season is condensed into 9 days,  with harvest on the 4th and the 8th. Unlock cool items through random events with NPC's, buy livestock, and traverse the dungeons of Dungeon Keep. 

This is take root. 

Take Root is a very procedural game, with each player responsible for their own farm, which they are tasked with caring for until harvest and the bringing of your fruits to market. The phases of the game are (predictably) sorted into 4 seasons with 9 days in each season, with two market days per quarter of the year. Different seasons have different basic crops, and certain items are more valuable than others.

However, you’re not just farming in Take Root - you’re also venturing into dungeons, and trying to romance select NPC’s. Diving into the Dungeon Keep is dangerous, but could have you coming away with rare items that give you money for seeds or items that allow you to fulfill mini quests - such as wooing the love of your choice, for example. The end of the game results in a winner - the player with the highest accumulated points, acquired through selling items, adventuring, and romancing NPCs.

All in all, Take Root is streamlined and simple, and yet manages to combine both dungeon delving and farming into one neat little brochure.

Farmtasy Simulator, by Guanaco Games.

The goal of this game is to build up your farm by managing resources, while dealing with threats both mundane and fantastic. Using cards for the encounters and dice to determine the outcome of actions taken, the player will gain resources and try to figure out how best to use them to continue building their farm. This game is meant to be played with one player and a GM. Farmtasy Simulator can be used as a supplemental mini-game for an on-going fantasy campaign, or as a standalone to enjoy some agricultural fantasy hijinks.

This is meant to be a two-player game, with one player and one GM. The character has dice and five stats with varying modifiers, while the GM has a deck of cards that they will pull from over the course of each year, used to generate encounters that will make the farming difficult. Farmtasy Simulator appears to be primarily designed as an add-on to another game, incorporating farming mechanics into a larger story. I think it might be a neat way to watch time pass for one character who’s trying to settle down and start a farm - perhaps each player takes their turn running through the simulator with the GM, or the GM use this as a mini-session with the only other player available to build their backstory before they went adventuring.

What’s So Hard About Farming?, by K.Petker.

This is a game about working on a farm and dealing with the triumphs and hardships of such a life.  It might not be any kind of farm or farmers you’re familiar with, but the connection to the growing green and the earth is still there.  Regardless of the season, there’s work to be done.  And things might get a little weird.

I don’t own this game, but my experience with What’s So Cool About…..? games is one of light rules and plenty of freedom to let you take those rules where you like. What I expect from this game is just enough rules to give you a reason to roll dice, and the rest of the world is up to you.

On the plus side, this means that if you want to farm in a swamp, or in a post-apocalypse… well, you can do that! On the downside, the experience won’t fundamentally change according to to the setting unless you decide to do a bit of game design yourself, which is a delightful challenge for some, and an unnecessary amount of labour for others, so take from that what you will!

Mectors, by Harper Jay.

After the war, thousands upon thousands of bipedal mechanized fighting vehicles (or “Bimechs”) were left scattered across the land. Many were brought back to the capital cities to be repaired or scrapped, but the majority of them were too damaged to be easily transported. With the war won, the victors simply left their mechanical refuse in the battlefields to rust and wither. 

In Mectors, players take on the role of a farmer, miner, fisher, carpenter, or some other worker in a labor intensive field. Mector Owners come from all kinds of backgrounds. Some own a Mector that’s been in their family for generations. Others came across theirs recently, through purchase or luck. And a rare few have managed to piece their own together using scraps from decommissioned Mectors, but this is even harder than it sounds. No matter how they got it, they now have a powerful tool with a long history.

I’ve recommended Mectors before for a similar request, and I think it definitely holds up as a great option for a fresh take on the slice-of-life farming sim - because it involves mechs! The setting is post-war, in a country that has learned to beat their technological swords into highly efficient plowshares - and the troubles that plague your settlements are less sinister and just the problems of a small community, such as the mushroom fungus spirit who is willing to guide lost travellers out of the cave, but also can’t seem to stop herself from feeding them mushrooms that also leech away their memories. If you want to tell stories about people solving everyday problems, set in an agricultural setting that’s wholly divorced from our own, I recommend Mectors.

Weeds in the Waste, by Megan Cross.

Weeds in the Waste is a solo storytelling game about tending a garden in a post apocalyptic wasteland.

Determine the state of your wasteland, create your gardener, plant your seeds, and tend your garden as you play through the seasons in the wastes. It is a narrative, storytelling game played using 2d6s and a 6x6 grid, as well as a series of prompts. 

As primarily a solo game, much of the tone and pace of Weeds in the Waste is set by you, the singular player. This includes describing how the world ended, and how your garden started, as well as what kind of gardener you are. The game moves through different phases for every season, indicating what parts of your hard work pay off, and what parts are unfruitful.

The end game (and reflection phases) revolve around what withers, and where - which I think is truly reflective of the post-apocalyptic themes in this game. Try as you might, the current conditions of the wasteland can only be so fruitful, and you will have to learn how to live with a drastically reduced yield in comparison to the work that you’ve put in.

There are also rules for multiple players of Weeds in the Waste, so you can also make this a collaborative effort, answering the questions together, and strategically planting your crops as best as you can.

I’d Also Recommend….

My Small Town Farming Recommendation Post (some overlap with this one)

Grandpa’s Farm, by Tyler Crumrine.

Iron Valley, by M.Kirin.

[anonymouscomrade]

so with the new version of Dwarf Fortress out on Steam, lots of people are getting into it for the first time. i still don't have this new version (yet) but here's some advice going off my playing the older versions on and off for like the last thirteen years. i'm not going to get into the extreme basics as there are plenty of full guides about that, this is just some personal advice from me:

especially for your first embark, pick a mundane-ass location with plenty of vegetation and trees and normal weather. don't fuck around with deserts or evil or glaciers or savage lands if you don't know what you're doing, you'll get killed by lack of water/the undead/the cold and absolutely nothing growing/giant wild animals, respectively. good-aligned regions are usually okay, if you want at least a little bit of the fantastic in your general vicinity. use the site finder to find a place with trees, vegetation, a river/stream/some other source of running water but NO AQUIFER, and multiple deep and shallow metals. personally my favorite embarks are the borders of forests and mountains, that way you have plenty of shit to mine AND plants to eat/brew, trees to chop down and make stuff with, etc. aquifers CAN be beneficial IF you know what you're doing (essentially they're a source of infinite fresh water if you can harness them, unless you're too close to the ocean and you get a saltwater aquifer, which sucks) but they can just as easily flood your entire fortress if you fuck up in even the slightest. i've been playing this game for over a decade and even i don't know what the fuck to do with aquifers so don't ask me

i personally prefer embarks with shallow soil. soil's super-easy to farm in (you CAN farm on stone but you have to have a way to irrigate it, and that can be a pain in the ass) but IMO most of your dwarves' living and working spaces should be carved out of stone, because soil can't be smoothed and therefore can't be engraved, and dwarves like moving around in smoothed areas and seeing high-quality engravings

your first priority when starting a fort is digging out a shelter for your dwarves. then make spaces for your first few workshops (stoneworking, carpenter, mechanic, and such) so you can get doors installed on your front entrance, and then immediately get your farms up and running. all dwarven crops can be grown indoors and plump helmets are a great choice of staple crop for literally any settlement since they can be eaten, cooked, OR brewed into dwarven wine. outdoor plants have to be grown on outdoor farm plots but they're still great for adding a little variety to your booze stocks and dwarves love that. take note of what kind of trees grow around your fortress, lots of them grow stuff that can be cooked (like walnuts or almonds) or pressed for oil (like olives) or brewed (almost any fruit tree) and you might not want to cut down those apple and pear trees right next to your fort's entrance when you can use them to make cider

NEVER BUILD ANYTHING OUT OF RAW STONE, WOOD, OR METAL. one raw stone can be used to build a single tile of wall or floor, a workshop, counts as one material for a bridge, etc AND is heavy as fuck, slowing down any dwarf carrying it to where it needs to go. FUCK THAT, have your masons cut that shit into BLOCKS. a raw stone will get you anywhere from 1-4 blocks, EACH of which can be used to make anything i mentioned earlier, AND won't weigh down your haulers or builders when they're carrying it. wood and metal can be cut into blocks too, if you need to make walls or floors or what have you out of those. HOWEVER, remember that blocks CAN'T be used in ANY crafting (that includes wooden blocks for burning in forges, making charcoal, etc), so once it's been cut into blocks, it's blocks FOREVER. you're gonna have a shitton of stone around almost any fort so making rock blocks is a good way to train new masons, but i'd only make wood or metal blocks if i needed those specifically

make some mugs early on, your dwarves like drinking out of them more than sticking their heads under the spigot. don't worry about individual bedrooms early on, you can absolutely get away with just sticking a bunch of beds in a big room at the beginning of your fort and digging out rooms later when you're more stable. don't build most workshops out in the open, dig out a room for each one and put in doors you can lock for each one. you'll thank me the first time one of your dwarves goes berserk after failing a strange mood and you can just lock them in there instead of letting them rampage around and beating your other dwarves to death

rock crafts will probably be your main trade good early on. most forts will have stone just laying around, absolutely fucking everywhere, so you might as well put it to use by carving little trinkets out of it and trading it for whatever the caravans bring

break into the caverns ASAP and then IMMEDIATELY seal that shit up. the easiest way to do this is digging an up/down stairway until the game lets you know you've found a cavern, then put a hatch cover on the stairs going immediately down into the cavern and lock it. you're not going to be able to handle hostile cavern creatures early on, but breaking into the caverns releases CAVE MOSS SPORES so ANY underground soil tile can start naturally growing moss or fungus. this is functionally identical to grass, so this means you'll be able to pasture your animals INSIDE, keeping them safe from any wild predators that might come along like wolverines or bears as well as keeping goblin raiding parties from using them for target practice

get a militia going sooner rather than later. a good array of traps and a locked door might keep the first couple bands of goblin invaders away, but larger armies of them are more likely to get through traps and keep you from sending your dwarves outdoors until they get bored and leave. were-beasts are not deterred by either, being capable of avoiding traps AND smashing down doors, and the bad guys only get tougher from there. check your migrants' skills, they always arrive as civilians so the guy with a title of "peasant" who isn't good at ANY labor might actually be pretty skilled with a mace. dwarves with only more esoteric skills like cheesemakers or gem setters are also good candidates for bolstering your military, once they get some training under their belt

IN GENERAL, for military purposes: wood/bone/leather <<<<<<<<<<<<<< silver <<<<<<<<<< copper < bronze < iron < steel < [REDACTED]. some exceptions: silver absolutely sucks for everything EXCEPT blunt weapons, where it suddenly becomes the best material in the game; pure copper is better than bronze for blunt weapons but bronze is better for edged weapons and far better for armor; bronze is only a hair below iron in terms of general military use. your greenest recruits who aren't fit for battle yet might actually benefit from wearing leather armor while they're training so it weighs them down less (at least until they get a few ranks of Armor User), but absolutely all of your actual fighters should be wearing metal helmets. [REDACTED] is the opposite of silver, it's the best metal in the game EXCEPT for blunt weapons which it absolutely sucks ass at. making steel is labor-intensive and time-consuming and requires specific materials and also kind of overkill since only dwarves can make it, but it's by far the best general-purpose military-grade metal you're going to possibly get reasonable quantities of

save metallic crossbow bolts for fights. wooden and bone bolts can't get through most armor but since wild animals aren't known for wearing armor, if you have hunters they will take prey down just fine without metal bolts. likewise, your marksmen should be training with wooden and bone bolts so they're not wasting metal ones on target dummies. yeah this means you'll need to constantly crank out wooden and bone bolts, pretty much

might add to these later if i think of anything else

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Round Two: Heracles vs Heliothraupis

Heracles inexpectatus

Artwork by @otussketching, written by @zygodactylus

Name Meaning: Unexpected Herculean Parrot 

Time: 16 to 19 million years ago (Burdigalian stage of the Miocene epoch, Neogene period) 

Location: St. Bathans Fauna, Bannockburn Formation, Aotearoa  

Heracles was a truly alarmingly large parrot, related to modern day Kea, Kaka, and Kakapo, known from the fantastic avifauna of St Bathans. Standing more than two feet tall and weighing about fifteen pounds, this animal was much larger than any expected from the St Bathans fauna, which represented the initial colonization of Aotearoa (Zealandia) after it returned above sea level. Heracles is also the largest known species of parrot, ever. It was presumably flightless, though it is uncertain if it was nocturnal like its living relative the Kakapo. Its exact ecology is still uncertain, given the material known from Heracles is limited and its living relatives have very disparate ecologies, though it is possible it was omnivorous similar to the Kea and Kaka today. The St Bathans fauna lived in a freshwater lake system, in a subtropical emergent rainforest. Separated from land bridges, the fauna was dominated by birds, with early relatives of the Kiwi, New Zealand Wrens, Adzebills, and Wedge-Tailed eagles found in the fauna, as well as somewhat modern looking Moas. Smaller flamingos, large fruit pigeons, and a huge variety of geese and other waterfowl are known. In addition, frogs, tuataras, other lizards, crocodilians, turtles, and many different types of fish are known from this fascinating ecosystem. 

Heliothraupis oneilli

Photograph by John C. Mittermeier, written by @zygodactylus

Name Meaning: O’Neill’s Tanager of the Sun God Inti 

Time: Unknown to the present, Holocene, Quaternary 

Location: Western Bolivia and Southern Peru, South America 

Rarely do we get to talk about a newly discovered living species of bird, but this is one of those excellent times! This bird, a bright yellow tanager with a distinctive black stripe across its eye, was found in the Neotropics - specifically in the Yungas region. Given that Latin America has the largest number of bird species in the world, it makes a certain amount of sense that we may have missed some! First spotted in the nineties, it was properly identified and described over the course of the 2010s. The distinctive appearance of this tanager lead to it being nicknamed the “Kill Bill Tanager”, in reference to its similarity to Uma Thurman’s yellow jumpsuit outfit. Distinct in appearance and population from other tanagers, it was deemed not only a separate species, but an entirely separate genus. It is migratory, breeding in the northern Machariapo Valley and going down to the eastern Andes for the nonbreeding season. It lives in deciduous forests, and breeds in bamboo grasses. It is a loud and vocal bird, making distinctive songs and choruses that happen long after the dawn chorus of most other birds. As it lives in a fairly isolated region of these countries, its habitat is not particularly threatened at this time.