#mass fish death

[townpostin]

Thousands of Fish Die in Raja Talab Jamshedpur Due to Chemical Contamination

Overuse of chemicals to clean Raja Talab results in mass fish death JAMSHEDPUR – Thousands of fish have died in Raja Talab, Harharguttu, Bagbera, after chemicals were used to clean the pond. The incident came to light on Sunday when local residents reported a foul smell emanating from the pond. Upon investigation, they found thousands of dead fish floating in the water. The chemical, allegedly…

[pubbee]

Mass Effect subtly implying a character is doomed to die every time the ocean or aquatic life is mentioned in any way makes me insane

[snoozaga]

°:•.🐠*.•🪸.•:°

[undeadkitty]

it’s funny that in fiction you always see serial killers who kill both men and women when in real life that’s almost never the case

[garyfischy]

the ai art discourse is so fucking stupid man (remembers like half my friends go to art school) (clamps a hand over my mouth)

[sscarletvenus]

i do not pity israel. never have, and never will.

each night that gaza experiences is deadlier than the last, as idf soldiers record propaganda tiktoks, make rave parties and grwms and fit checks, gloat over having food and water, and film themselves deriving sadistic pleasure from torturing their hostages and victims and desecrating the dead.

Palestinians have to display their martyred before the camera for you to believe the atrocities that the zionist entity has subjected them to. they cannot even mourn in private. the apartheid entity murders them in cold blood, and you deliver the killing blow by doubting them.

babies whose families have been killed will never get to know their own name.

i can't reshare a tenth of the videos and photos that cross my timeline. i have seen more dead children in the past month than i have known death my entire life.

israeli settlers burn olive trees, bomb bakeries and fishing boats, shower white phosphorus and earthquake bombs on the captive civilians of gaza. you already know about the disastrous effects of white phosphorus, but earthquake bombs were last used during ww2 to wipe out entire cities.

how holy is the land that seeks to be built over the mass graves of thousands of children? is it holier than the miracle of a child being born in this hypocritical world?

all 11 universities in gaza have been bombed. academics should be agitating right now, especially those who call themselves "decolonial thinkers." destruction of universities is a sinisterly deliberate act to sabotage the Palestinians who will survive this great catastrophe.

the act of cleansing your hands before prayer is extremely important to muslims. no part of us can remotely comprehend the grief of the mother who refused to wash her hands from the blood of her children after losing them in a zionist airstrike over gaza. "I swear I won't wash them, I won't wash my hands, how else am I supposed to sleep near my kids."

it is only both moral and right when one side defends itself. the other side are the price of war, no better than insects and cattle and sheep left to die within the four walls of the slaughterhouse.

this situation should not be up for debate, but let me finish with one final thing : do your research about Palestine. HOWEVER. you do not need a degree in middle east studies to object to an ongoing genocide. if someone outwits you in a debate about historical details and every nuance of a subject, you were and will remain entirely correct in objecting to a genocide.

may those martyred rest in peace and be reunited again with their loved ones in heaven's eternal vastness.

DO NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE.

glory to Palestinian resistance. from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Cephalopoda - Octopoda

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Order: Octopoda

Common Name: “octopus” (pl: “octopuses” or “octopodes”)

Families: 14 - Cirroteuthidae , Stauroteuthidae, Opisthoteuthidae (“umbrella octopuses”), Cirroctopodidae, Tremoctopodidae (“blanket octopuses”), Alloposidae (“Seven-arm Octopus”), Argonautidae (“argonauts” or “paper nautiluses”), Ocythoidae (“Tuberculate Pelagic Octopus”), Eledonidae, Bathypolypodidae, Enteroctopodidae, Octopodidae, Megaleledonidae, and Amphitretidae

Anatomy: eight arms fully or partially encased in webbing ; suckers line the inside of arms; two rear appendages are generally used to walk on the sea floor; slit-shaped pupil; no internal shell; most of the body is made of soft, gelatinous tissue allowing it to squeeze through tiny gaps; many species can change color, texture, size, and shape to camouflage and communicate

Diet: crustaceans, other mollusks, and fish

Habitat/Range: every ocean, with species adapted to many habitats, including tide pools, coral reefs, seagrass beds, open ocean, the Antarctic, and hydrothermal vents

Evolved in: Middle Jurassic

Propaganda under the cut:

The Argonauts (genus Argonauta, the only living genus in the family Argonautidae) (image 4) build their own paper-thin shells to use as a brood chamber and maintain buoyancy. This shell is not related to the external shell of nautiluses or the internal shell of squids. Nevertheless, argonauts are sometimes referred to as “Paper Nautiluses” due to this shell.

Colour vision appears to vary from species to species, for example, it is present in the Marbled Octopus (Amphioctopus aegina) but absent in the Common Octopus (Octopus vulgaris). Octopuses achieve their color-changing camouflage by using opsins in their skin which respond to different wavelengths of light and help the animals choose a colouration that matches the surroundings. Chromatophores in the skin can also respond to light independently of the eyes. An alternative hypothesis is that cephalopod eyes in species that only have a single photoreceptor protein may use chromatic aberration to turn monochromatic vision into colour vision, though this lowers image quality.

Most octopuses are solitary, but the Larger Pacific Striped Octopus (Octopus sp.) has been described as particularly social, living in groups of up to 40.

On rare occasions, octopuses hunt cooperatively with other species, with fish as their partners. They communicate with their partners by punching them.

All octopuses are venomous, but only the genus Hapalochlaena (Blue-ringed Octopuses) (image 3), has venom that is lethal to humans. The genus consists of four species of octopus that are found in tide pools and coral reefs in the Pacific and Indian oceans, from Japan to Australia. Despite their small size (12 to 20 cm [5 to 8 in]) they carry enough neurotoxic venom to kill 26 adult humans within minutes. The venom can result in nausea, respiratory arrest, heart failure, severe and sometimes total paralysis, blindness, and can lead to death within minutes if not treated. Death is usually from suffocation due to paralysis of the diaphragm. Despite this, Blue-ringed Octopuses are relatively docile and will only bite if actively harassed, instead choosing to flee or display their warning colors: bright yellow with blue flashing rings. Very few deaths have been recorded.

The Giant Pacific Octopus (Enteroctopus dofleini) (image 1) is often cited as the largest octopus species. Adults usually weigh 10–50 kg (22–110 lb), with an arm span of up to 4.8 m (16 ft). The largest specimen of this species to be scientifically documented reached a live mass of 71 kg (157 lb). Much larger sizes have been claimed: one specimen was recorded as 272 kg (600 lb) with an arm span of 9 m (30 ft). However, one carcass of a Seven-arm Octopus (Haliphron atlanticus), weighed 61 kg (134 lb) and was estimated to have had a live mass of 75 kg (165 lb).

The Star-sucker Pygmy Octopus (Octopus wolfi) is the smallest known octopus, at a length less than 2.5 cm (1 in) and a weight less than 1 g (0.04 oz).

The Coconut Octopus (Amphioctopus marginatus) collects discarded coconut shells, then uses them to build a shelter, an example of tool use.

Octopuses are highly intelligent. Maze and problem-solving experiments have shown evidence of a memory system that can store both short- and long-term memory. In laboratory experiments, octopuses can readily be trained to distinguish between different shapes and patterns. Octopuses have also been observed in what has been described as play: including moving around a bottle by jetting water at it. Octopuses often break out of aquariums and sometimes into others in search of food, after which they return to their enclosure.

Evidence indicates that octopuses are sentient and can feel pain.

[pseudowho]

Deliverance

Hunting down a monster, you are led to an isolated little town...and into the arms of its enigmatic priest, who harbours a dark secret.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Vampire!Priest!Nanami, monsterfucking, winged vampire, soft!Dom/pleasure!Dom Nanami, loss of faith/disillusionment, enemies to lovers/forbidden lovers, haematophilia, corruption kink

Very much inspired by Mike Flanagan's exceptional "Midnight Mass" which I highly recommend.

Soundtrack: "Take Me To Church" by Hozier, and "All Around Me" by Flyleaf

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The bridge to the mainland lived most of its saltcured life underwater. It rose, skeletal against the fog, as if the wreck of a ship from some bygone era, only twice a day, at low tide.

You were, by now, well-established into this friendly little town; a much-needed teacher to its handful of muddy-toed children. They did now know of your armory, your deadly weaponry. They did not know of your vow to hunt down the monsters that stalked the night.

And, they did not know how you suspected that the beast responsible for the deaths of at least 20 men on the mainland, may be one of their very own. 20 murders all occurring at low-tide, and only low-tide, could not be a coincidence.

They were all scum, you mused to yourself, all rapists, paedophiles and murderers...so perhaps it does have some sort of moral code. It must be here, you reasoned, fingers tapping the woody shelves of your little school cupboard in thought.

Your hunt was hampered by the timekeeping of this sleepy fishing town; often up before sunrise to take to the sea, and back before the sun broke above the horizon, it was not unusual for its residents to sleep during the day, and rise in time for the sunset. Its little church even held an evening mass, attended by plentiful nocturnal residents, after dinner.

"Hello?" A rich baritone, which was beginning to feel so intimately familiar to you, stirred an illicit want in your belly. He called your name. You could not help but run to him.

"--sorry, I'm-- I'm here! In the cupboard!" You called out, breathless in...what? Your rush to get to him? Anticipation? Something...more?

You flurried round the corner, all eager smiles, flyaway hairs and dimples. Your eyes melted so softly upon each others' forms, both sighing with relief. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.

"Ke--...Father Nanami. What a lovely surprise. You're not usually up so early."

Nanami Kento cut an imposing figure in his cassock and white collar. He was a big man, with mountainous shoulders, and long, broad hands. You remembered the heat that pooled in your belly, the first time he had rolled up his sleeves to help you to move supplies into the schoolhouse, his forearms so alluringly thick and corded. His size belied an easy grace, and the elegant quick-step of a busy, intelligent man.

"I found myself unable to sleep," Kento admitted, his head bowed and hands clasped as he stepped to you. He seemed paler than usual, as he continued, "I was thinking abo--...just, thinking." He finished weakly. His eyes drew so fleetingly to your fast little pulse, thrumming from your throat, down your cleavage. His mouth dried, a double-edged hunger climbing down his abdomen.

"...thinking?" You offered, slowly closing the distance between you. You ached to remove it completely, your respect for his holy vows the only thing that contained you. Kento cleared his throat, running one strong finger between his neck, and corseting black and white collar.

"...wondering. If you would be attending mass. Tonight. I have miss--...you have missed the past week, I believe."

Ah. Yes. There was rarely another time when the homes of the local residents were empty enough to allow for investigation. You had only a few more to ransack, to find your monster, and you could feel yourself closing in on it. You felt a heavy rock of regret in your belly, and you clasped one of Kento's cool, pale hands in your own. His cock twitched, to feel the burn of your flesh against his, in ways so much less intimate than what he had imagined, alone at night.

"I'm so sorry...not tonight," you frowned, and you hurried to reassure Kento as he visibly deflated, "But tomorrow, I promise you. I'll come. Truly." Kento's face, so angular and strong, softened down at you with the hint of a smile.

His hand raised up for a moment, hesitating, before cupping your cheek. You felt your heart skip a beat, the tips of his little and ring fingers ghosting over your pulse point, while his thumb swiped beneath your eye.

"...chalk," Kento whispered, seeing your pupils dilate under his inherent, dangerous magnetism. He wished nothing more than to lean down and taste you, clutched against him and whimpering in the schoolhouse. You heard thunder rumble in the distance, and smelled the petrichor of an oncoming storm.

"...I can't wait," Kento whispered, stepping back from you, with just one backwards glance before sweeping out under the wind and blotting clouds.

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Your hunt had amounted to nothing. Either, your monster was meticulously careful, or your suspicions were incorrect, and it did not reside on this island. There was just one more place you had not explored, and you resigned yourself that you may be heading home sooner than you thought.

And yet, you felt a rope behind your navel, a red string around your finger, holding you here. You decided to complete your final investigation at the home of the priest, who had become the lifeblood that ran inside you, at midnight. He generally stayed late at the church, completing administration. You would be undisturbed.

Armed, rogue-like, you blended with moonlit shadows until you reached the windows outside his bedroom. You peeked through the gaps in the wooden blinds, and were met with an image of Kento, erotic and resplendent, that seared itself into your brain for the rest of your days.

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Kento didn't need sleep, ever since his God had forsaken him. Yet still, he craved that sweet embrace, to take him away from the twisted torture of what he had become. His resolve to die this way, as some fallen angel, had been unexpectedly fractured by the will to live-- fractured by you.

Kento switched the shower off, the last droplets of water running down his back. His cassock and collar were discarded, all woven lies against the skin of a faithless hypocrite. Kento wrapped a towel loosely around his waist, stepped past the empty mirror, and out into his bedroom.

His gut churned to see his empty bed. It had been weeks since he had fed. Years since he had taken a woman for the last time, before taking his vows. Weeks, since you had begun to consume him, mind, body and soul.

Kento had been losing his faith before the change. He had grown further from God, as countless monsters died beneath his teeth. But it was thoughts of you, spread, penetrated and whimpering beneath him, that took Kento beyond redemption.

Kento shuddered at the aching greed within. He lay back on his bed, hair still damp and floppy, but desperate for sleep to grip him and pull him under. His cock, rapidly thickening and tenting beneath the towel, made him curse, one broad arm flung over his eyes, while the other tried to squeeze himself into submission.

Kento squirmed with guilt, his semi-erect cock gripped in his palm. He thought of you, your fingers dipping into your needy wet cunt, the vibrator on your clit doing nothing to relieve the ache in your soul. He thought of the way you had squirmed and begged, to your god, and to him, to be granted your release. He thought of the way you had sobbed as you came, curled round yourself, your fingers desperately trying to reach the sweet spot that would make your orgasm climb all the way into your belly.

He didn't need to imagine it, Kento thought blithely, his thumb now stroking slick pre-cum under his foreskin, and over the sweet swollen head of his cock. He didn't need to imagine it, because he had seen you, through the gap in your curtains in the dead of night. Watching you, a pale angel in the rain, hunting for the forgiveness of a body he couldn't allow himself to sully.

Kento's hand had begun to masturbate himself instinctually, to the thought of you crying out for him. For him, and he could do nothing but pretend he hadn't seen you fall apart, to the dream of him inside you.

Kento groaned, low and rumbling, his hand gripping tightly around his throbbing, heavy length, longer than his thick fist could cover. Dripping with pre-cum, Kento began to fuck into his own fist to lubricate himself. He moaned in time to the memory of you, writhing and mewling against your pillow.

Kento's other arm reached round above his head, and he sunk his sharp teeth into his pillow, licking at it, imitating how he would flick his tongue against your pert little clit with a ragged moan. He pictured you above him, riding his mouth and nose as the length of his cock fucked down your throat to the tune of sweet wet gags. Kento whispered filth into the dead of night, trying to rut himself to orgasm.

"--take it-- good girl...cum down your throat-- cum in my mouth...shit...fuck you through it soon, angel-- promise, I promise--...ahhhh, shit, SHIT--"

Kento cursed, spitting venom, his balls heavy and sore, his own hand so woefully inadequate. His canines had lengthened, his mouth twisted into a teeth-baring snarl, and he gripped his cock harder. Trailing his other fingers to his mouth, sucking on his fingertips with a shiver, Kento pierced them until he could taste the hot rush of blood, imagining it was you quenching his thirst--

At the window, completely unnoticed, you gripped the windowpane, weak-kneed. Your other hand clapped over your mouth. Kento lay naked on his bed, sprawled and ethereal under strips of moonlight, masturbating with gasps and groans that you only wished you could hear.

Those hands, that you had spent night after night, wishing were inside you. That cock, thicker and longer than you had pictured...and oh. The way he rutted into his fist with such devastating ferocity, left you jealous of his hand. Your mouth watered.

What would he do, if you knocked right now? If you offered yourself to him, spread bare and pleading? Would he forsake his vows for you? Would he turn his back to God, as he stroked his cockhead to orgasm between your wet folds, singing your praises, and spattering hot, thick cum over your clit--

You were drawn back out of your head as Kento convulsed, his anguished, sloppy moan breaking through the windows, shooting through you like a knife. You gasped, delighted by Kento's twitching pleasure.

Kento hit his orgasm with the turmoiled strength of a stormfront, breaking. His final image was of you, cradling his sore cock between your legs, humping him inside you while you whispered to him and he whined into your hair and got lost in the smell of you, god, the smell of you, he could smell you now--

Kento spasmed, crying out as cum spurted in heavy stripes up his abdomen, his orgasm threaded with a tinge of horror-- fuck, he could smell you, you were here nearby, he knew the smell of that skin and that blood and that cunt--

Kento sat up with a jolt and a snarl, still gasping, the power of the hunt crashing through him. His teeth bared, animalistic, he wrenched his window up, sticking his head out into the night.

The smell of you, quickly fading, was being carried away by the wind. And Nanami Kento was losing his mind.

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You could barely compose yourself, walking into Church the next evening. The night had crept in fast; another storm churning over the water, was pulling the moon in with it. You felt overburdened with...guilt? Desire? You could not hide it, you were sure.

You could not hide it, as Kento's rich voice embraced the pews. You could not hide it, as your voice trembled its way through hymns. Kento's stern, impassive face remained unreadable, as you took communion from him. You met each others' eyes, both thinking about the same thing; his finger grazed your tongue, and gazed upon your sweet face, open-mouthed and doe-eyed, kneeling before him.

And despite all this, it was each others' company you craved more than anything more carnal. You found excuses to stay, in the church, loitering as Kento bid the crowds a warm goodbye. As the last person left, finally alone, you turned to each other. You both held your breath.

After a few moments, yours released in a twinkling laugh, and a blush, that had Kento's chest clenching in possessive adoration.

"I...have neglected you, father," you offered, brushing your hair behind your ear. Kento huffed, at first, pinching the bridge of his nose, before laughing. A genuine laugh. Deep, velvety, and rich. You were putty in his hands, and he didn't even know.

"Alas...it is the life of the clergy. Our own needs, go...unmet." Kento grimaced, a forced half-smile. His hands clasped over his lap.

You felt the tinge of bitterness at the edge of his words. You swallowed, thickly. Your fate balanced on the edge of a knife.

"Not...not all of them, surely? You could...you could join me for dinner?" You couldn't miss how Kento's eyebrows raised fractionally, his pupils dilating. Kento felt a dangerous hunger.

"I...I'm not sure-- I shouldn't--"

"Of course, you're completely right--" you flapped, taking a step back, and Kento's hunger gripped you back with jealous need.

"...I shouldn't be long here. An hour, maybe? If...if you'll allow it." Kento could feel himself twist under the need to possess you, one way or another. Judging by the smell of you, you would be wet, supple under his lips.

"Perfect," you blurted, standing up on your tiptoes for one happy moment, "perfect. I'll cook. We can...we can talk. I can't wait."

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A brisk knock. You hurried to the door, biting your lip, briefly abandoning dinner on the stove.

"Father," you cried, damning yourself for sounding so excited, "you're here...I'm glad. I was afraid you wouldn't...anyway..."

You hurried back to the stove, leaving the door open. After a moment, you looked up, seeing Kento leaning against the doorframe, looking at with with something...unreadable, in his eyes. He simply stood, drinking you in as you cooked.

"...Father? What are you waiting out there for? Come in." Blinking, chuckling to himself, Kento stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him and gently placing a bottle of wine on the table.

"Please. Call me Kento. It seems...silly, if we're having dinner, and a night together." You felt heat blossom through you, at the accidental double-meaning behind Kento's words.

Dinner together was soft, intimate, the food and wine smoothing over an already glossy conversation. You were made malleable by the wine. You were intoxicated by him. Kento looked into you with such knowledge of you, that you were laid bare beneath his gaze.

Sat facing each other on the sofa, Kento had abandoned his white collar, the buttons of his cassock and white shirt undone to his chest. He rolled wine around his glass, his head leaning on one hand, smiling as you talked. The wine made you stupid, and you blurted out;

"Why? Why...did you join the church, Kento?" It was, in part, rhetorical. A cry of despair against the crime of Kento being made untouchable. His answer surprised you, and you found yourself shuffling closer as he talked.

"I ask myself that same question every day. Ever since..." Kento bit his tongue, thinking of the night he was turned, on a missionary trip abroad. Thinking about the day you walked into his parish, setting him aflame with unquenchable burning thirst. Kento cleared his throat, swirling his wine. He felt his primal magnetism drawing you to him like a moth to the flame, and he could not stop himself.

"...I have become...disillusioned, with the church. I am...torn," Kento admitted. Your knees were touching his now, and you leaned towards him with lovesick eyes. Kento felt the thrill of the hunt, feeling the sting of his teeth lengthening. His cock twitched as your breath passed over his cheek.

"...torn?" You felt a quiver of fear now, in the way Kento's eyes darkened, his hand slipping over to grip behind your knee, pulling you into his lap. He set aside his glass. It should have rung alarm bells. You were so drunk, but you had only had one glass of wine. Kento smelled so intoxicating. You were warm, floppy as he pulled you to straddle his lap, cupping your face with both hands.

"...torn," he whispered, his nose brushing yours. Kento's hunger overtook his panic for you, a victim to himself. Kento whispered against your lips, watching your eyes flutter closed, your head heavy and lilting to the side, exposing the pretty thrum of your throat to him.

"...torn," he continued, gliding his tongue up the pulse in your neck, feeling his cock jump against your clothed pussy, "...all because of you...if God has forsaken me, I hope he never wants me back. If only you would let me worship you, instead."

Kento's lips hovered over yours, barely quelling his urgent need to feed on you, until you whimpered his name. Kento snapped, and pulled you in by the back of the neck, crashing his lips to yours with the ragged groan of a starving man.

Your head swam with Kento, clutching his open collar and falling against him, allowing him to devour your mouth with bliss. You murmured against his lips, sloppy and licking, tasting the sweet allure of him, and his grip on the back of your neck grew crushing, his weight now bearing over you to press you back into the sofa, a sharp sting on your lip--

"Ow! I...ugh, sorry...I'm bleeding--"

As you moved to sit up, shocked back out of your reverie, Kento had pushed himself back to the other side of your sofa. One hand had clasped over his mouth. He trembled, and shook, white-knuckles clasping the sofa. You heard a sharp gasp, as if Kento was in pain.

With blood on your lip, you reached for him-- and stopped. Your eyes fixed on the switched-off television opposite you both. You stood, slowly, moving towards the hallway, and your bag, trying to control your terrified little heart.

"I'll just...get a cloth, for my li--"

As you pulled a blade from your bag, standing up to spin around, you were thrown back to the wall, your head cushioned by Kento's hand. You cried out, feeling him bracket you against the wall, his cassock now abandoned, his form seeming to grow and swell before you. Kento's face pressed to your neck, and you felt the hot throb of his growing cock against your belly.

You stood this way, both panting into each other, your knife pressed over Kento's heart, and his teeth pressed to your throat. Your heart broke, fragile beneath Kento's twisting form, and hungry mouth. You hiccuped, your hand and resolve faltering.

"...I never wanted...I wish it wasn't...why did it have to be you?" You sobbed, your arm starting to lower. Kento growled against you, already two feet taller, his enormous chest trapping you in against the wall. You felt the lights blotting out around you, as vast, black, velvety wings unfurled from Kento's back.

"...always...you always knew...just couldn't accept--" Kento gasped, his tongue darting out against your neck, ridged and trembling. His chest burst with pain to feel you sob beneath him.

"I can't do it," you cried, your knife hand lowering again, "just take what you want, because I can't-- I love you-- I'm not strong enough." Kento's teeth gritted, his face crumpling against the soft copper scent of your skin. His enormous hand gripped yours, raising the knife to press to his chest. You gasped and cried out, resisting his pull; a bead of blood sprung up around the tip, pressed to Kento's chest.

"From the moment you arrived," Kento growled, his teeth pressing gently over your pulse point, starving and needy, "...my life...everything I am, has been yours to take. I would know you, blind and deaf...and I would be honoured, for you to take my life as penance for my sins."

You gritted your teeth, completely releasing your grip on the blade. It clattered to the floor. You reached up to trail hands up Kento's enormous, powerful shoulders. Your fingertips grazed the soft base of his wings, and Kento shivered, shuddering into you. He felt a dribble of pre-cum soak his stretched, ripping boxers.

"Then I condemn you to live, Kento," you whispered, pulling his face up to yours. His pupils were dilated, bursting with lust, inky black in pools of crimson, "...and take me. However you want me."

Kento snarled at you again, pressing himself to you, pinning your arms above your head with one thick hand; "You have no idea what you're asking for," he hissed, "I will eat you alive." He felt you tremble, seeing the golden resolve in your eyes. You leaned forwards to his mouth, begging.

"Then eat me...or fuck me, like you fucked your hand to me."

Kento cursed, snapping, lifting you against him. You wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling Kento reach down to shred the clothes off himself, completely absorbed by the need to possess you, to love you.

Flung backwards onto the bed, you gasped at Kento's monstrous form. Eight feet tall, broad and exquisite, his great black wings folded and unfolded against his back. His aching cock dripped with pre-cum, so much bigger than when you had seen him cum into his own hand. His face, still undeniably Kento, stared into you, owning you. Heat pooled between your legs, as he grasped his cock in one great hand, groaning and shuddering.

You crept forwards, still drunk on him, and his nephilim glory. Kento's hand stuttered around his cock as you licked the tip.

"--fuck-- too big for you-- you can't--" Kento uttered a strangled moan, to feel your hot little mouth engulf his cockhead, your lips stretched wide, gulping him to the back of your throat, all hot little licks and sucks. Every fibre of his being needed to buck forwards into your mouth, and you felt two great hands tangle in your hair.

When your hands joined your mouth, stroking down his aching length, masturbating the parts of his cock your mouth could not reach, Kento rutted involuntarily. Moaning, begging and whining your name, his voice ran deep and ragged around his sharp canines.

"--darling, I-- shit I-- so good...so good for me...taking me s--so well, haaaaah...not-- can't last-- like this--"

You hummed around his cock, swallowing down a trickle of salty pre-cum, feeling the gentle pressure of his fingertips against your head. So aware of his size and strength, Kento handled you like a china doll, with the utmost love and affection. Kento moaned with abandon, his head thrown back, his great wings furling and unfurling with divine pleasure.

Swallowing around Kento's thick tip at the back of your throat, you felt his cock leaping in warning. Kento tried half-heartedly to pull you off him, whimpering and moaning with fractured cries of your name;

"--can't swallow-- s'too much-- ohhh fuck, my love-- c-cumming, I'm cumming-- fffuuuck yes, swallow-- all of it--"

You squeaked as his cock jolted and twitched in your mouth, Kento's balls clenched tight as he hunched around your mouth, pressing your head to him. Your mouth and throat flooded with Kento's bitter seed, cooler than that of a normal man, and you swallowed him down with pride. Kento's groans and breaths ran ragged, as you licked him clean.

Kento panted, glossy-eyed as he came down from his high, his cock still half-hard against his thigh. Crowding your body against the bed with his, his fingertips grazed the dress you wore, before ripping it from you with a bared-teeth growl. You felt your bra snapped in the middle, as if it were paper. Your breasts heaved, nipples peaked under Kento's ravenous attention.

Poking his tongue out to tease it over one hard nipple, you felt your clit throb to feel the otherworldly ridges and grooves running along his tongue's sides and tip. Whining as he sucked your pebbled nipple into his mouth, you shuddered to feel Kento's sharp teeth graze your sensitive peak. He savoured you, lathering your nipple against his tongue, until you felt you could cum from that alone.

His other hand rose to engulf your second breast, your nipple rolled so tenderly between two great fingers. You felt a trickle of arousal soak your underwear. Kento could smell it, and pressed his hand to your lower belly, feeling vaguely for the telltale swell of ovulation.

"...made a mistake, angel...letting me take you like this-- nothing of you left, by the time I'm done with you--mine-- all mine-- fuck--"

Trailing kisses down your belly, sniffing you and eager to fill you with his smell, his body thrummed for you. Kento threw your legs over his shoulders, ripping the sides of your underwear and tossing the scraps aside.

His eyes fixed on your pussy, slick and clenching. Kento shuddered, feeling his cock beginning to bound to life again. It flopped, heavy and twitching against his thigh, filling again in preparation to fill you. Kento felt a vague desire to ensnare you, trapping you inside his drunken intoxication, to fill you, and fill you, and fill you, until your belly swelled, oozing his thick, white seed.

"...Kento...please..." Your sweet begging pulled Kento out of himself. Despite his monstrous form, his face softened, his eyes fixed to yours as his tongue, long and ridged, stretched out of his mouth. You saw stars as it lathed insistently from side to side, spreading your folds, stroking back and forth over your aching, pearly clit.

Kento mumbled into your pussy, tasting you, his long tongue fucking into your cunt while his nose nuzzled your clit. Mewling, your hands flew down to sink into Kento's hair, and you felt your hands grasped and pinned against your belly. Kento knew, with a faint pang, that if your fingernails scratched against his sensitive scalp, he would surely spill his seed all over your floor.

Kento draped his other forearm over your belly and hips, pinning you down as you twisted beneath his attention. He lapped, sucked, and nipped at you with the softest bites to your clit, his tongue fucking in and out of you with inhuman dexterity.

You bucked your hips down the bed, eager to feel his tongue sink into your deepest parts, and Kento obliged with a wet moan. You felt his tongue lathe against your spongy spot, pinned down as he devoured you.

"--just there...harder please, please-- god I need your cock in me, please-- fuck me please-- please--"

You begged and pleaded your way to orgasm, your arousal seeping out around Kento's tongue as you came with a jolt and a cry, your thighs clamping around Kento's head, feet tickling against his sensitive wings. Kento continued to fuck his tongue in and out of you, lathering you with his spit, tasting your arousal, desperate to taste more of you.

You reached down, trying to pull Kento up your body. He almost laughed at your casual management of a true to life vampire, about to fuck you into the mattress. Kento allowed it, settling above you, his pupils narrowing at the insistent beat of your throat. Suddenly, and with a strangled growl, Kento knocked your head aside, his teeth grazing at your throat, and his monstrous cock throbbing at your entrance.

You trembled beneath him, heaving and gasping from your high. All of your resolve left you, beneath his tongue, and you uttered words you knew to be true;

"...I trust you, Kento."

Kento pressed into you, with teeth and cock and a husky moan. You felt a sharp pierce at your neck, his teeth just deep enough to feel the hot splash of your blood against his tongue. Kento almost finished then and there, his seed threatening to spatter into your folds and entrance, instead of in your belly, as he had promised himself. Kento drank you, his mouth clamped around your neck, one great hand cupping your head to the side while the other gripped your hip.

With a squeak and a protracted, broken moan of his name, you felt Kento's cock stretch through your wet velvety walls. You squirmed, trying to climb up the bed, feeling Kento growl around your throat and yank you back down.

Kento was enormous, by far the biggest cock you had ever taken, splitting you with a dull sting. Your fluttering hole soothed as Kento began to rut his length into you. His red, leaking tip bullied your cervix, bumping it up against your womb, with inches of him still outside of you.

You uttered strangled little moans, completely pinned beneath his hulking form, feeling him rut as much of his cock inside you as he could fit. With a shiver, Kento denied himself of any more blood at your throat. His tongue stroked your wounds, clotting the blood there, as he fucked gently into you.

Kento's wings caged you both in, and he stared down at where his cock tried to stretch your pussy out with dopey, lovesick eyes. A trickle of your blood ran down from the corner of his mouth, and he was struck with a sudden burst of pride for you. Kneeling back, Kento pushed your knees up to your chest, crushing over you in a mating press.

You writhed, as Kento managed to sink more of his cock into you, groaning which each stroke he watched enter and pull out of you. Your slick formed a translucent white ring most of the way down his cock length. Kento was eager to see it drip down his balls. He gasped down at your prone, fucked-out form, and gently began to press and roll the fatty flesh around your clit, making you buck up into him with pathetic little mewls.

"--fit it in--fit all of me in...if you cum again-- fuck you through it, baby...fuck you through it...fuck you through it..."

Kento repeated this like a mantra, every gradually strengthening thrust into you taking him deeper, your pussy stretched to its limits around his terrifying girth and length. Leaning over where you joined, Kento spat a smooth mouthful of spit, stroking it around his base, lubricating you both, before upping his pace and intensity again.

You cried out, head thrown back as you arched, feeling Kento so deeply that you clasped your belly. Kento planted one hand over yours, his fucks growing gradually more feral as he bared his teeth, determined to finally take what was his, after so many years of miserable self-denial.

"--mine make you mine make you mine--leave it behind...leave it all...for you...shit-- so tight, just--milk it out-- all my cum-- all yours, I swear..."

As you came, your pussy clenching and spasming, Kento finally bottomed out. His head flung back with a cry of success, slamming into you with abandon as he chased his high, desperate to see you filled with his cum. Cursing, and spitting, teeth bared and blacking out the room around you with his wings, Kento came with a roar, and you felt your pussy and belly flooded by him.

His cock jerked long, protracted twitches inside you, spurting thick bursts of cum, with nowhere to go but up, plugged by his enormous girth. You were pliable and dazed, taking it with the sweet relief of his love for you, his seed soothing your swollen inner walls like a balm.

Kento faltered above you, staggered and dazed. Keeping his cock stuffed inside you, manoeuvring himself onto his side, he swept one great wing beneath you, and one above you. You felt yourself cocooned, sleepy and full, reaching into hand up to tangle into Kento's hair. He pressed a lazy kiss to your palm.

"...you're a...terrible vampire hunter..." Kento slurred, fading out into soft snores, just seconds later.

He's not wrong, you reasoned to yourself, wondering and drifting to sleep in his arms and wings, maybe he'll help me.

[mbta-unofficial]

The T was the god of a warrior caste of pre-dynastic boston. Its shrieks heralded death to the drivers of the "mass Pike," a kind of sacred predatory fish found in the charles

[crunchybeards]

I'm sure this has been beat to death by now, but my favourite aspect of Sam as a character is the fact that he truly does encapsulate one of the most pervasive themes in the game, the theme of being humane. Sorry for the really long ramble but I just wanted to get this off my chest and just genuinely commend the game for what it does with its protagonist. Be warned for spoilers for the whole game and some endings.

From the begining, Sam is shown to be an empathetic character, despite being a pseudo-silent protagonist. As different as every route can be, Sam always feels some form of very human remorse. He feels remorse over killing cursed individuals when he reflects in the mirror. He feels remorse for fucking up the ritual and damning the astronomers. He feels guilty over taking the resources of people who have become cursed, even though he knows that they won't be using them anymore. At least once per playthrough, he experiences some form of remorse towards another party.

As far as a reach as it is for me to say this, I personally saw the dialogue options that players can pick as Sam's own thoughts and the specific thoughts that you choose to pick are the thoughts that become fully realised and are added to his overall character for that playthrough. There are often a lot of dialogue options that are negative or reactionary. Yet every single time, there's at least one positive one, one where he feels empathy, one where he believes there is hope for an individual despite how bleak the situation may seem. Or at the very least he chooses to be civil and non-discriminatory towards a cursed person.

As grotesque as the game is and as twisted as the Cursed become, they're still human, they're still people even if not physically apparent. And 9 times out of 10, they still behave like people. My favourite aspect about the game is that there are some characters that seem like they're too far gone, that they only wish to hurt people and yet if kindness is extended towards them, they can still be saved. We see this with the hidden-away garage. The fish and chips shop. The Cursed are still willing to trade and salvage the situation as best as they can. They're making the most out of a shitty situation despite struggling interally with their sanity and adjusting to newly formed bodies.

Choosing to be humane at the end of the world is one of the best things about Sam's character. Nobody would hold it against him if he were to kill cursed individuals indiscriminately. There are several characters that he can befriend who have done the same like Hellen. But being given the option to negotiate, the option to talk and to extend an olive branch, he takes it. He talks to cursed individuals who are lucid, he even befriends a few like Joel. Even in the ending where he becomes a swarming mass of arms and feels overwhelmed by his new ever expanding form, even though he is so scared, he took a moment to calm himself down, pick himself up and get to work helping people. Even as a borderline Lovecraftian being, he actively chose to be the driving force for good. Even though the prior examples I listed are choices that can be made by the player, this ending proves that Sam is a genuinely good and humane person. In the 104 Gods ending, the gods still destroyed parts of humanity and even divided it further. In the Screaming Sky ending where the astronomers ascend into a unified god like entity as the Exhaulted Four, they were actively destroying the planet and killed random people in an unpredictable bloody purge. Every other instance of people being presented with this awesome change, they were destructive, unintentionally so due to insanity, but ultimately destructive. The sole exception to these realities is Sam. When he's aware of what he's become, he helps, he becomes the Saviour of Humanity. He could've been like any of the 104 Gods, start his own cult/ community, be the supreme ruler of Earth because like with the gods, who could stop him. But he didn't, and that's what truly does differentiate him. The Gods could've been lucid and with how they actively do rule over the earth in their respective zones, it appears as though they are. And yet we have Sam, a god in his own right, but is a good person (well except for the Perfect Ritual ending where he overwhelms the earth Xin Amon style but I attribute that to losing himself completely as opposed to his character's intention).

As corny as it may sound, Sam truly does choose to be kind as opposed to choosing the 'right' option of caving into fear and attacking enemies/ isolating himself. To Sam, being a kind person is not dependent on appearance, it isn't dependent on what you can personally get out of helping another person but it's about being a helper of your fellow man, regardless of everything that is happening. No matter the route, no matter the player's input, that humanity is always there and I admire that about him.

Tldr:

[catboybiologist]

Everything dies, but everything dead fuels life.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

🌍🌡️ - Climate Prophecy: The Forecast Is 100% Chance of 'Cool'

1. No cases of cancer caused by HPV in Norwegian 25-year olds, the first cohort to be mass vaccinated for HPV

Last year there were zero cases of cervical cancer in the population that was vaccinated in 2009 against the HPV virus, which can cause the cancer in women. The HPV virus is extremely common, basically everyone comes into contact with one version or another of the virus in their lifetime.

The vaccine was given to girls only out of an abundance of caution, they were the most likely to contract cancer from the viruses, and because there was limited supply.

2. ‘Every square inch is covered in life’: the ageing oil rigs that became marine oases

Built decades ago, California’s offshore oil platforms are home to a huge diversity of marine life. According to a 2014 study, the rigs were some of the most “productive” ocean habitats in the world, a term that refers to biomass – or number of fish and other creatures and how much space they take up – per unit area.

3. Vaccinations may have prevented almost 20 million COVID-19 deaths worldwide

Vaccinations estimated to have averted 19.8 million COVID-19 deaths worldwide in their first year, according to the latest Imperial modelling study.

In the first year of the vaccination programme, 19.8 million out of a potential 31.4 million COVID-19 deaths were prevented worldwide according to estimates based on excess deaths from 185 countries and territories.

4. Global climate policy forecast predicts ‘well below 2°C’ Paris Agreement climate goals will be met

They report only a 10% probability we exceed 2°C by 2050. Temperatures are expected to peak between 1.7°C and 1.8°C, which is consistent with the “well below 2°C” objective of the Paris Agreement in Art. 2.1c.

5. Young driver fatality rates have fallen sharply in the US, helped by education, technology

Crash and fatality rates among drivers under 21 have fallen dramatically in the U.S. during the past 20 years.

Using data from 2002-2021, the report says that fatal crashes involving a young driver fell by 38%, while deaths of young drivers dropped even more, by about 45%.

6. A Virginia woman was feeling sad. Her doctor prescribed her a cat.

7. Remote workers report saving $5,000 to $10,000 a year

What value would American workers place on the privilege to work from home?

In a 2022 survey by FlexJobs, 45% of remote workers reported saving at least $5,000 a year. One in 5 reported saving $10,000 a year. The savings average out to about $6,000 a year. The poll reached 4,000 workers in July and August of last year.

Three years into the remote-work revolution, research increasingly suggests that telework is a commodity, a job descriptor worth thousands of dollars in potential savings and improved quality of life.

---

That's it for this week :)

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[munefille]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥

yandere!m.merman x gn.reader

cw: mentions of death, disturbing imagery

as a fish takes refuge inside an oyster, it sees only the chance to hide from the unforgiving water within the calm mollusk, unaware of the true nature of its biology. unfortunately for the fish, the oyster has already activated its unique defense mechanism, encasing the fish as an immortal, precious pearl.

The rhythmic push and pull of the tides never failed to lull you into a state of mild stupor. Soft, slightly cool sand cushioned you while a gentle breeze brushed past your cheek and played with your hair. The day was only moderately gloomy, a grey tinted sky hanging over you as the clouds came and went, the sun nowhere to be seen. Still, you almost liked it better like this. The beach was more private, freer without the confines of eyes watching it.

Your calloused feet hopped onto the rocky shore, leaving the inviting sand disturbed as a sign of your presence. The salty ocean scent intensified the closer you came to the evermoving water. You stood atop the tallest rock, attempting to scan the waves at your vantage point, searching for your most curious find.

At last, peeking out from between the waves, did you spot the partially submerged head of your friend. His black eyes were trained on your form, no doubt watching you long before you noticed him.

A grin emerged across your face. "I see you!" you called, motioning for him to come closer as you waded into the water. The eyes disappeared beneath the tide at your request.

You felt him before you could see him, smooth scales wrapping around your leg in a firm hold. He reappeared directly in front of you, inky black eyes mere inches away from your own.

The creature's appearance was a far cry from the mermaids of your childhood, beautiful human women who happened to have a tail as their bottom half. No, he hardly mirrored the sentimental fairytale. You noticed his eyes first, sclera and pupil alike darkened together as they melded into each other- then you noticed his rubbery flesh stretched taunt across his sharp bones, with pale, sallow skin, nearly as grey as a corpse. You initially thought that's what he had been when he simply peered at you from afar, unmoving and unblinking against the rocking sea. He was just humanoid enough to lure concerned passersby like yourself deeper into the water, yet not quite passable as human.

In a closer vicinity, as you are now, you could see small scales dotting his cheeks and neck. Under the right light they appeared as little moons, revealing an opalescent luster that you could only describe as ethereal.

"Hello," you greeted with a wide close-lipped smile. Last time you had bared your teeth at him ended with him misunderstanding your friendliness for a threat. You weren't sure if he could talk, but that didn't stop you from trying to make conversation. You had a feeling he understood you to an extent anyways.

The mercreature tilted his head sideways in response, sleek, wet dark hair falling over his shoulder. An inscrutable expression remained plastered on his features; one you gave up trying to interpret using human facial language.

Silky scales gently tugged you further into the waves towards a rocky mass that stood above the crashing water. The current strengthened, oscillating you to its whims, but the guidance of the unyielding sea creature kept you from being swept away entirely. Although you would consider yourself a strong swimmer, you knew you would never compare to a creature born of the water, one who moved so in tune to the sea that his lithe form became indistinguishable from the tides.

Finally, you reached the rocks, gripping the relatively dry surface for relief from the unrelenting waters. You found a comfortable position on them, resting your upper body while you let your legs dangle. The mercreature remained below, lower half of his face once again concealed under the water, leaving only his unblinking eyes visible. His body underneath the water became obscured even further by the dark ring of hair that floated around him. Those eyes regarded you with scrutinizing intensity that would've resembled a predator, had you thought hard enough about it.

"What a nice view-" you began, but the thought was cut short when your companion pulled himself below the water, disappearing from your sight almost completely, save for the movement in the water that signified a strong tail pushing against it.

Confusion laced your face. The few minutes he had gone was enough to make you worry. Why had he left so abruptly? Surely he would be back? You weren't certain you could swim back to shore on your own. Although you trusted him- in fact, you would even consider him a friend- doubt from his apparent unpredictability lingered. After all, you had no way to reliably communicate, nor were you sure if your opinion of your relationship was mutual.

Your concerns vanished as he broke the surface of the water, swimming towards the rocks with something that gleamed as the light hit it.

He stopped at your feet, lifting the object slowly up to you. If you hadn't known better, you'd say the action seemed almost shy.

A gasp left you as you got a view of it. In his webbed, slender fingers lay a glistering mass of refined pearl, hints of color dancing across it the glossy surface. Distantly, you recalled that the creature's scales were of the same material. It resembled an anatomically correct heart. Never before had you seen a pearl shaped in such a way, nor did you know how it could've been, or why the shape was so accurate, even down to the imprint of the vessels. It was as if the thing had been pulsating. Why was it so accurate?

The beautiful piece was presented to you like a gift, so you had gladly accepted. You collected it from the awaiting hands. The coolness of it nearly burned you as it touched your flesh, the brilliant iridescence of it stealing your attention away from the faint scent of iron permeating the breeze. It distracted you from the bloody teeth of the now grinning merman, sharp rows glinting bright cardinal red. You thought nothing of the diluted red in the dark water, seeping towards your feet. The sinking body below, twisted and stuck eternally in a cry for help, was lost to you as you held the glimmering heart with reverence.

_____________________________✧_______________________________

i love creepy mermaids

[f1ghtsoftly]

All The Women’s News You Missed This Week

5/26/25-6/2/25

Greta Thunberg, along with 11 other activists, set sail this week for Gaza, intending to break Israel’s aid blockade. Women in Iran have begun defying mandatory head coverings en masse. Female fishmongers in Kenya organize against routine sexual coercion by fishermen. South Korean women speak out against leading anti-feminist presidential candidates in the aftermath of former President Yoon’s shock declaration of martial law. A Mother in South Africa who sold her daughter into sex trafficking receives a life sentence. The public rallies around a 10-year-old girl who died after sexual assault, and the subsequent delay in lifesaving healthcare, demanding better treatment for victims of sexual assault and those from lower castes. Taylor Swift regained control of her music, repurchasing her masters for a shockingly low $360 million sum. 

Stories marked with a * are my favorite, or the most impactful, stories of the week. 

Want this in your inbox instead? Subscribe here

Women’s Reproductive Rights: 

She Got an Abortion. So A Texas Cop Used 83,000 Cameras to Track Her Down. 

*Rohingya women coerced to use contraception in Bangladesh refugee camps

*Argentina used as a ‘testing ground’ for eroding abortion rights, warns Amnesty 

One death every seven minutes: The world's worst country to give birth  (Nigeria)

China student says college made her 'take off trousers' for period leave 

Women Resist:

Outrage in Kenya over detention of software developer 

Profiles in Courage: IRS vs. ICE? Melanie Krause Quit Rather Than Hand Over Your Tax Data for Deportations  (USA)

These women are defying Iran's hijab laws — despite fear of reprisal  

*City council of Poggibonsi, Italy awards honorary citizenship to Warisheh Moradi 

*The women of No Sex for Fish are survivors — but their survival is precarious  (Kenya) 

The transformation of women’s sports in Saudi Arabia is no mirage. Just ask the women

AOC viewed positively by more Americans than Trump or Harris, poll finds

*Climate activist Greta Thunberg and "Game of Thrones" actor Liam Cunningham join aid ship sailing to Gaza  

‘Empathy is a kind of strength’: Jacinda Ardern on kind leadership, public rage and life in Trump’s America (New Zealand/USA)

*These women helped bring down a president - now they say they feel invisible (South Korea)

*Mother of jailed Egyptian democracy activist hospitalized after resuming hunger strike

Nation’s Largest Black Feminist Gathering Heads to New Orleans  

Turkish Government to Women: Motherhood or Nothing

Violence Against Women and Girls: 

Mother who sold six-year-old daughter given life term in South Africa 

Suspect in South African student's murder killed in police shootout 

Women and girls ‘not safe anywhere’ as Darfur suffers surge in sexual violence 

Nigerian women forced into prostitution in Senegal 

*India anger over 10-year-old rape victim's death after alleged treatment delay 

Women’s Rights Group Warns Of Rise In Forced, Early Marriages In Afghanistan

Stories from women in Saudi Arabia’s ‘jails’ contrast the nation’s illusion of progress

Spread of sexual deepfake images created by generative AI growing in Japan  

Smokey Robinson files $500m case against rape accusers 

Of Interest: 

Tunisian women outraged by plan to allow notaries to finalize divorces

'No one voted to deport moms': Pro-Trump town regrets its choice

Denmark plans compulsory military service for women

How the Taliban is using law for gender apartheid, and how to push back

Arts and Culture: 

A look at Indian American life highlights communities across the U.S.  

Taylor Swift Shocker: Singer Buys Back and Will Reissue First Six Albums — Even as ‘Reputation (Taylor’s Version)’ ‘Can Still Have a Moment to Reemerge’ Later 

Margins to movement: How Mangai and Marappachi rewrote Tamil Nadu theatre history (India)

Museum Removes Māori Artist’s Work Inviting Viewers to Walk on New Zealand Flag 

As always, this is global and domestic news from a US perspective, covering feminist issues and women in the news more generally. As of right now, I do not cover Women’s Sports. Published each Tuesday.

[lani-sun]

☆ love you like a dog (i just keep coming back) ☆

synopsis: losing your mate means losing yourself. it's too bad the little part of you that cares for his brother didn't die with him. aged-up!lo'ak x na'vi!fem!reader. warnings: ANGST IN THIS ONE Y'ALL, graphic descriptions of death, death of a loved one (neteyam), loss, heavy descriptions of grief, taboo/complicated relationships, explicit sexual content [18+ MINORS DNI], oral fem!reciving, size kink, mention of stomach bulge, dirty talk, slight dom/sub dynamics, i don't know how to write smut sorry friends, unedited to the max i apologize in advance

☆

the first time it happens, you repent. chain yourself to charity like a fork-tongued saint, devout and forlorn. purification becomes purpose. lifeblood. you had to atone for your sins somehow, didn't you? (you still thought of lo'ak's canines, sinking into the side of your neck, one five-fingered hand threaded in your hair, the other pulling at the ties of your tewng {loincloth} like he'd die if he didn't touch you—). you know better. you know lust cannot fill the vacancy slithering through your exoskeleton, marrow-deep and unyielding. it eats at you, the emptiness. engulfs you whole, spits out a mass of azure skin, eggshell bone, bloodied teeth. and you let it. what else are you supposed to do? who else are you supposed to turn to but that personified ache in your subconscious, that nagging worm in your head that begs you to bloodlet? begs you to make it better, make it easier? dislodge yourself from the longing that keeps you reaching for a hand that has long slipped out of your grasp? you were only doing it because you needed to. because there was no other way to escape your own mind.

(it's been years. and yet, you remembered the blood, the way it had painted your hands in seeping layers of thick, tacky crimson. you remembered the way your mouth had opened in a silent scream, tongue heavy and thick in between lips forming the syllables of his name, over and over and over. neteyam, neteyam, neteyam, my mate, my mate, my mate. you remembered the way you'd shirked away from the tangy bite of metal in the air, the taste of iron down your throat akin to a barrel of a gun, the heat of a bullet. the gush of an exit wound. you remembered how neteyam's gaze had clashed with yours when you'd pressed your hands firmly to his chest, a silent plea written in the flecks of gold dotting his irises: "take me home, ma'yawne." you remembered neytiri's face, frozen in time, streaked with crystalline tears, her eldest son laying lifeless in the arms that had birthed him.)

the second time it happens, you make a choice. a calculated, deliberate decision. an instigation. kiri notices your tense silence during dinner that night, and reaches a hand over her crossed knees to pat at the side of your thigh comfortingly. she leans in as you shift, meeting her appraising gaze with apprehension floating precariously at the surface of your own. her eyes flash honey-gold, nearly glowing in the tangerine gild of the raging pyre beside you. although the feast you face is beautiful - lines of emerald rock orchid leaves, crimson mushrooms, and freshly-caught flat skate fish - your stomach contracts around nothing, appetite lost. paranoia is fast to appear. kiri couldn't know, could she? you'd been careful. you'd left before he had, had hidden the indentation of his teeth lining your collarbone that had rapidly turned a rather unsavory shade of purple—

"are you okay?" she whispers, tilting her head. there is something accusatory the way her eyes linger on the restrained trembling of your bottom lip, and for just a moment, a single ghost of a second, you find yourself wanting to tell her everything. your throat closes up, and you swallow heavily. "i'm fine," you choke out, straightening. her hand jostles on your thigh. "just tired." kiri's forehead creases—she doesn't believe you, of course—as she retracts her touch, leaving your skin feeling inexplicably colder. she doesn’t bother to ask questions, doesn’t stop you as you hastily make excuses to exit (i think i might go lie down, i think i'm coming down with something, i'll find you tomorrow, tsmuke {sister}, i promise), hands trembling as you efface the sticky sweat lining your palms on your bare stomach. you can feel kiri's gaze lingering on the back of your neck as you begin towards the pods; your skin prickles in response. she sees right through you. your fallaciousness is nothing but a shadow. a barricade made of sand.

your resolve is steely by the time you cross the reefs, the steady drone of the log drums behind you fading softly from earshot. lo'ak must have known you were coming; he does not stand to welcome you, nor does he lift his gaze from the dull blade in his right hand as you duck under the adorned mangrove-wood reinforcement of his marui [home] and step inside, the grating hiss of metal against a sharpening stone slicing through the eerie quiet. you linger at the entrance, your intake of breath sharp. lo'ak adjusts his grip wordlessly with practiced ease, forearm flexing as he draws the blade across the stone in slow, calculated arcs, as if coaxing the metal into submission. into perfection. oh. oh. there is a strange ringing in your ears, thrumming alongside the rapid, bird-like beat of your heart. you consider remaining silent, but you just can't help yourself. restraint is a virtue you find yourself no longer able to practice. "lo'ak," you whisper. it is just his name. but it speaks volumes. the air between you thickens excruciatingly. his head lifts, eyes glazing over your figure, and you self-delude when you determine you do not like the way his gaze goes slightly slack. there is a hunger in the sharp curve of his jaw, in the firmly-set, downturned line of his mouth. a need. a visceral urge that mirrors your own. it is achingly sweet. saccharine in your mouth, rotting your teeth. pounding in the space between your temple and ear like a tangible, carnal throb, spasming wildly at the sight of him. (you still find yourself jolted awake in the middle of the night by a feeling you could have sworn was the ghost of a four-fingered hand tracing unintelligible patterns into the curve of your spine, the phantom of your mate's body curved around your own. his tail curled around your calf, or his arm slung around your waist.)

you see it in his eyes, the longing. he stands, holstering the knife on the sheath looped around his thigh. his steps towards you are silent, charged with the boundless energy pouring through his veins. to chase. to hunt. to kill. to keep. he shrouds you in his shadow as he approaches, tilting his head. there is an erotism to the the way he assesses you. the cognizance he possesses of your lips, your tongue, the column of your throat. you blush midnight blue when you catch sight of the bloomed purple notch in the side of his neck. you'd done that. "this hasn't faded," you breathe after a moment, reaching a hand up on instinct to graze the spot. lo'ak's entire frame goes stiff under your touch, but he huffs out what sounds like a soft laugh. "y'got me good," he responds, and the rough quality of his voice makes you shiver. "i'm... sorry." (you're not sorry.) he shakes his head, mouth curving up in a sly smirk. "don't be." his pulse point throbs under the tip of your index finger, and it jumps when you press down. "i liked it." you try to breath normally as your hand stills, then drops back down by your thigh. "you weren't at dinner," you murmur thickly, eyes darting across his face. it it sickening, his beauty. his grace. he wears faux arrogance like a second skin, and you despise the fact that it suits him. enhances what is already there. he shrugs, lips pursing. "i wasn't hungry." he's lying. he nerve of him is laughable. there is a color of indigence in your voice when you scoff. "don't lie to me. you just didn't want to see me, did you?" (you have to remind yourself that you don't want to start a fight. you don't want to face the fact that there is a lecherous, macabre fragment of your soul that craves the feeling of his haughty hands on your skin. you want to hate him. you want to hate yourself. but this is the only way to make it better. the only way to cease the ache left behind. and neteyam would want that for you, wouldn't he? he wouldn't want you to hurt. he never did) "doesn't matter," he responds, and his answer downturns your lips. the lazily, fervid lowering of his eyelids acts as an aphrodisiac of sorts. he is playing with you. relishing in the way your eyes seem everlastingly drawn towards the curve of his mouth, the tantalizing taste of his tongue. "you always come crawlin' back anyway."

you see red. your hand lifts before you can stop yourself. it is halfway to his cheek — you can already imagine the sting the contact will induce — when his own encircles your wrist promptly, halting your motion midair. the sheer strength in his grip is nothing short of breathtaking. astounding. your inhale catches in the narrow arch of your throat, and you resist the urge to cough. your eyes jump to his face. "y'don't wanna do that, tìyawn {love}," he warns lowly, and the expanding of his pupils, the darkening of his expression, terrifies (excites) you. he lets you wrench your wrist out of his grip, flexing his hand as though he misses the feeling of yours in it. your navel stirs, a sliver of heat traveling rapidly up your spine. you imagine he can smell the change in your composition, can sense the suggestive direction of your thoughts. "i'm not an animal," you snap, vexed. "i don't crawl." he raises his hands in mock surrender. the braids at the forefront of his head following the movement of his head tipping downwards, gaze towards the ground. you realize he's laughing at you when his bare stomach contracts under the leather of his cummerbund. "we both know that's not true." 

(neteyam used to make you crawl to him. he'd lean against the bed, temptation incarnate, his burning perusal of you leaving heat pooling in its wake. and then he'd tell you to get on all fours. tell you to arch your back. present to him, for him. "crawl to me," he'd whisper. "show me who you belong to. show me who owns you.") lo'ak's stare pulls upward. and then he pounces. he doesn't kiss you, no. what he gives you isn't a kiss—it’s consumption, all teeth and tongues and the scent of his arousal making your head spin, a battle for dominance that neither of you endeavors to win. his control slips, and you're suddenly aware of the way his mouth finds your neck, his teeth dragging along your skin like he wants to mark you, claim you. his touch is rough, desperate, searching for skin, gripping your hips, pressing into your thighs. he pushes you roughly towards the tangle of his sheets just as he finds the soft curves of your breasts, marveling at the way you go still under him. he tweaks your nipples, running his thumbs over the ridges, and you twitch in response. everything—everything—smells like him: fresh, damp earth, the faintest touch of smoke and salt, wet stone and metal. your cunt squeezes around nothing when you loop your arms around his neck and pull him onto you, draping his body over yours. "i said this would never happen again," you whimper when his kiss drops to the valley between your breasts, then to the line of your abdomen, the flare of your waist. he works his way down your body, worshipping his skillful entrapment. his prey. "i-i said it wasn't right."

"you did," is all lo'ak responds with, seemingly drawn towards your clothed cunt. he palms it, expelling a breath at the way your ragged moan catches brokenly at the edges. "and yet." "it isn't r-right." you swallow thickly, fighting to keep your voice steady. wordlessly, lo'ak simply undoes the ties of your tewng {loincloth}, peeling the fabric away from your hips as though unraveling an exquisite fruit. you jerk away when his breath fans over your unshielded skin. oh, he was so close. just an inch and his lips could lock around your clit. just an inch and his fingers could be embedded where you desperately needed him to touch you (inside, inside, inside, inside, as close as you could possibly get him, as deep as you could physically take him—) "you want me to stop?" he asks as his mouth drops to press a kiss to your mound, his tongue swirling around the soft flesh. you buck upward. "y'sure look like you do." he was teasing you. rapturous ecstasy explodes beneath your closed eyelids when his mouth finally, finally meets your clit, messily spreading your slick across the bottom half of his face. "great mother, you smell good," lo'ak moans out, voice muffled. your thighs close around his head before you catch yourself, your own tipping backwards. "tastes even better," he continues, euphoria painting his words in raw need. "like honey." he dips into you the second you open your mouth, trying to regain some semblance of control. "oh— lo'ak—" he hums against you, hands planted under your bottom, digging into the flesh there. your skin turns an ashy shade of slate under the strength of his grip, a frenzied voice in your mind urging you onward, rousing every part of your body that had wished for this, hoped for this, dreamed of this with your own hands attempting to replicate this feeling of blinding, sparkling warmth. your body tightens, every muscle wound to snap. "i t-think i'm gonna—" you sob with relief when the pleasure comes to a peak, shattering in his hold. your lower stomach contracts and expands uncontrollably, a rush of molten heat flooding his mouth. lo'ak pulls himself back up over you with smack of his lips, lapping up the tear tracks staining your cheeks with the same tongue he'd just had halfway up your cunt. "such a pretty girl," he murmurs, almost absentmindedly, staring down at the way your chest heaves, the way a drop of sweat flows into the indented notch right above your winged collarbones, almost as though he seeks to memorize the places his brother's hands had been. "y'can't help yourself, can you?" his tone is satirizing, though an undertone of gentleness discards the bite. "pretty girl just keeps comin' back to me, doesn't she?"

"asshole," you pant, gently framing his face with your thumb resting in front of his ear. the impassioned fire in his gaze softens, giving way to something that resembles—no, is—pure, unadulterated adoration, quiet and unspoken, yet unmistakable. it taunts you. alarms you. his amatory look returns just as quickly as it had disappeared when his hand stretches downward to undo the string of his own tewng [loincloth], discarding it beside you. his tail curls around your leg, and you hoist yourself up into your forearms to survey the unexpected movement, but before you can open your mouth to question it, his hand wraps around the base of your own tail and tugs. your entire back arches straight off the sheets. lightning shoots up your spine, and in an instant, you're presenting for him, your body developing a mind of its own. "look at you," lo'ak murmurs, swiping his cock up and down against your leaking slit, spreading your folds over his tip. pleasure wanders along your navel, and you flinch when his tip nudges your tender clit. "you should've come to me sooner, baby." no resistance meets him as he slides the first, then the second, then the third, fourth, fifth, eighth, tenth inch inside of you. your eyes roll back in your head as the aching stretch subsides, replaced by a feeling of complete and utter fullness. paradise. "i would've helped you," he continues, but his voice wavers, betraying his control. "would've made you feel g-good. would've had you like this a hundred fuckin' times." the sharp, sky-language curse falls from his bruised lips in a rushed exhale of breath. tears gather on your lash line when he thrusts up— just once, just enough to bottom out inside of you, shaft twitching against the spongy entrance of your cervix. his palm presses hastily against the protruding bulge in your lower stomach, feeling for the outline of his cock. his eyes widen, just as transfixed as you are at the sight of himself moving under your cyan skin. 

he swallows your high-pitched squeal as his thumb reaches downward to draw tight, small circles around your swollen clit, his length settling into a smooth, even rhythm that had a a quick, breathless shout spilling out of your open mouth. "cat got y'r tongue?" he whispers when you go blank, blinding pleasure rendering you speechless. "c'mon, honey. y'talk a big game, don't you? show me what y'got." ("show me who you belong to," neteyam had said.) you keel, eyes rolling back in your head as his teeth move down, down down, latching onto the hardened peak of your nipple. your legs thrash under the weight of him, and his low growl in lieu of a response vibrates across your skin. an obscene, wet sound reverberates in the air around you as his head lifts from your chest, a string of saliva following the curve of his mouth. his hips buck forward even further on their own accord when your cunt tightens at the sight of him. feral, like an untamed animal, droplets of sweat canvassing the corded muscle of his abdomen. you lift yourself up onto your forearms shakily, collecting the briny fluid on the jagged surface of your tongue. his entire body quivers as he folds forward. "yeah," he breathes, taken aback, bracing one hand beside your shoulder and the other at the base of your neck, holding your mouth to his chest. your lips close obediently around his nipple, and he chokes, grip faltering. "there y'go. that's good, baby." 

you barely have time to gasp his name before he begins to rut his cock deeper, pushing past your cervix to ram the head against your womb.

you nearly scream, feeling him everywhere, all over you. somehow he was touching parts of you his hands were nowhere near. his voice cuts through your bleary-eyed pleasure, the familiar drawl sending a current akin to lightning through the curve of your spine. "say somethin', baby," he coaxes through gritted teeth, hands lingering on the dip of your hips as he presses his thumbs into the bone. he rolls his pelvis steadily, the muscle flush against yours, eliminating every modicum of space in a calculated effort to get closer, closer, closer. "y'know i like hearin' you talk. always so mad at me, hmm? always talkin' back." a rhapsody of noise escapes you when his tongue swipes a line from your collar to your jaw. "don't worry, though," he exhales, his hips snapping harshly against your inner thighs. "we'll fix that." 

"lo'ak," you finally croak out, hands flailing in the air to grapple for an anchor, sinking hungrily into his hair. he hisses when you tug, tail wrapping tighter around your calf on instinct, as if to hold you in place. "y-you’re so deep." your lips part shamelessly around soft, choked sounds, clit pulsating as your hips jerk, scrambling for purchase. 

"yeah?" he responds, ever the cocky bastard. his grin is sly, fangs bared. you would have done terrible things to feel them in the side of you neck. you already had. "am i fuckin' you good?" when coherence fails you, and you emit strings of half-sentences accompanying a withheld moan of his name, his smile only widens, eyes of liquid gold simmering with unrestrained desire. "i asked you a question, mama, c'mon." you only nod frantically, gripping his cock like a vise when it jumps inside you. (the rational part of your mind bristles, reminds you embarrassment is a virtue you posses too little of. but you're too far gone. lost to the ocean. to the salt on lo'ak's skin left over from the hunt he'd gone on this morning. to the taste of someone who is not your mate, who is not neteyam.) lo'ak huffs softly when you flutter around him, careening forward until his face tucks itself into the side of your neck, licking a stripe over your pulse point. your body thrums, glistening desire dangerously close to a precipice, an apex, and your hand flexes in his hair, clutching a fistful of his braids for dear life. "lo'ak," you whisper, breathless. "lo'ak, i-" "i'm here, tìyawn {love}," he assures you, his lilt rough and unrestrained. wild. his canines flash as he growls, and you tighten around him; you fight the pull to break into tears because, oh, ewya—this is different. it's never been like this, so raw, so intoxicating. you’ve never felt so utterly claimed. so owned. it is inevitable. the fall, the crash, the burn. when you reach your climax with a startled shriek, lo'ak comes with you, a kiss pressed quiveringly to your throat, three words whispered delicately into the space between your collarbones. i love you. i love you. i love you. (tsireya once told you that the way of water had no beginning and no end. it is your home, she’d said. before your birth, and after your death. you wonder, therefore, it he knows. if one day, you will meet your mate at the crest of where the sun meets the sea, and he will know what you've done. how you've betrayed him. you wonder if neteyam will still love you. you wonder if he will gaze upon your face with the same devotion his brother offers so fiercely. so violently.) lo'ak loves you like a dog. you force yourself to kick him down like one. note: this is my first fic!! reblogs, likes, and comments are more than appreciated!! love you all!

[moodygirlzz]

So, I have fixated on the idea of a deaf tiny and a hearing giant.

Can you imagine?

Being so small the world doesn’t just sound different, it doesn’t make a sound at all. You don’t hear a door slam. You feel it. Through the floor. Through your ribs. A boom rolling up your spine like thunder with nowhere to run. You live by those vibrations to avoid being stepped on, you live by those vibrations to know what’s coming next. You have to learn all the pulses. The tremble of movement under your feet like reading waves in still water.

Now imagine your giant. 20-30 feet of heat and mass and motion. A voice you can’t hear but always feel through the floorboards, through your bones, when they laugh, when they sigh, when they hum under their breath and don’t even know they’re doing it. Everything they do moves the world you stand on.

Their lips are the size of a billboard. You have to watch them speak, tilt your head back, squint, follow the slow shape of every syllable like reading clouds. You get good at it. You learn the way their mouth forms “sorry,” or “come here,” or “are you okay?” and it makes your stomach twist in a good way, like vertigo from affection.

Sometimes they try to whisper, forgetting you can’t hear at all. But you feel the whisper, like breath moving the tiny hairs on your arm. That counts for something.

They learn to sign for you.

Not well, not at first. Their fingers are too big, clumsy, slow. They mess up “friend” and “forget” and once accidentally signed “death” instead of “sleep.” You nearly choked laughing.

But they care. They try. And when they want to understand you, really understand, they lean down. All the way down. Their head on the desk, chin resting on their palm. Eye level, leaning closer to make sure they don’t miss anything. Holding their breath so nothing shakes the surface. Watching your hands move like birds. So close their eyes blur and refocus and follow each twitch of your wrist. Not wanting to mess up.

You have to remind them to come close so they can see, you know you’re too small. They get embarrassed when they aren’t paying attention and miss when you sign, generally and whole heartedly trying better to always watch to be sure they don’t miss a thing.

Sometimes, they haven’t learnt certain signs. You have to mime out scenarios so that your giant understands. You once had to flop around on the desk then sign NO to express you didn’t want the fish.

It’s a challenge but always a wholesome experience when the giant gets it right. Smiling sweetly, proud of themselves.