#nectar source

[twinstxrs]

so much happened in this whole episode but i’m still on fig infiltrating ruben’s dream, making it look like the place where his friend was murdered, and then disguising herself as kipperlilly & repeatedly saying different variants of “somebody needs to take the fall for this, and it’s not going to be me. it’s going to be you.” while adaine as the elven oracle shows up next to her. can you imagine waking up from that, the idea of a horrible truth being pinned on you by your friend to save her own skin while the personification of fate and destiny stands there, almost as a promise that this is GOING to happen to you. we don’t even know if this kid is guilty. my god.

[holocene-sims]

drop this sunflower🌻into the inboxes of the blogs that make you happy! lets spread a little sunshine ☀️

hiii nectar, thank you so much 🥺❤️ i'm really glad we're mutuals! you were one of the very first people who followed me on here. thanks for sticking with me for so long and always being so nice, and i hope you know just how much i appreciate you and your sims 💖

here comes your sunflower train 🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

also, totally unrelated but i've been reading the iliad for a class, and every time they mention the nectar of the gods, my mind instinctively goes, "omg nectar-cellar reference"

[oceanremnants]

dark orange pearl, written by a traveling administrator.

flora, for quiet:

there's a lot of generic stuff. bet you'd find that interesting, though. those grass flowers you like are growing out here, too, and those weird frondy trees that live near our communications arrays

i'm pretty sure that ea said there's barely anything growing around her can so i am absolutely not expecting to see anything once i finally get there. lots of stuff in the expanse here though...

there are popcorn grapes out here, about a day's walk from home. upsilon's the only one of us who actually likes those, right? otherwise i'll bring some home on my way back

i saw one of those brain tree things. weren't they used to hold qualias before pearls or something? around it were a lot of those things i recognized from dad's alchemy book... all i remember is goldy's admin saying that they tasted good in soup to annoy her.

turns out the trees in the expanses outside of our retaining walls hold in heat, since i just went into an area with at maximum five of them and it was really cold.

did you know batnip can survive in the cold? i didn't. a lot of stuff can actually, it's really neat... lots of herbs i didn't expect to see here, mostly stuff you're growing actually. glad you're starting easy~

sorry for not responding to your overseers by the way. they didnt follow me in here so i guess whatever you needed has been dealt with? too far to head back now so i really hope it is.

there are mimic beetles here, which is pretty interesting considering how cold it is. i thought they were sorta sensitive to temperature... must only be the heat, which is why they're so rare in other regions i guess. they pollinate some of the small flowers here - the flowers use the heat from the grass that lives under this... "snow" stuff....

out of that place and it's more jungle up ahead, although it's still pretty cold here. you know those hugemassive trees? they really don't like the cold, apparently, and the only ones i'm seeing here are tiny shrubs. the weird core things - one of the ways of getting capital n Nectar if i remember correctly - are sort of shriveled and greyish blue. also they don't taste good at all. really do not recommend.

think that's aabout everything that'd be interesting to you?

sorry for not being super descriptive. hope the elemental make-ups of all the plants i found and as detailed of a pictures i can get with my overseer work well enough. see you in... probably not fifty cycles considering how many people are already asking for my help. oops.

[lilislegacy]

something i feel like we don’t talk about nearly enough is the fact that percy is healed by water.

it’s so normal to us because it’s one of the first abilities we discovered he has. and it makes complete sense. but like… he’s the only demigod with that ability. jason doesn’t get healed by a gust of wind. hazel doesn’t get healed if she touches a diamond. nico doesn’t get healed if a skeleton gives him a hug. annabeth doesn’t get healed if she walks into a library.

like percy could be stabbed in the chest multiple times, he could break every bone in his body, he could be slammed in the head resulting in a crushed skull and hemorrhaging, but get him to some water fast enough and not only is he good as new in no time, but he’s stronger and freshly rejuvenated.

it’s insane when you think about it. no one else can do that. do you know how hard it is to kill percy? even if he’s not near the ocean, he can be healed by rivers and lakes and streams and ponds and all sorts of water sources. water recharges him. it makes him immediately stronger.

that’s a huge reason why i argue percy is the most powerful demigod. yes, he’s shown he has incredible super strength and super speed. yes, he’s a legendary sword fighter - arguably the best one alive. yes, he has control over air, land, and sea. (deadly hurricanes with heavy winds and thunder and lightning, huge volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, etc.) yes, he’s capable of mass destruction. yes he can single handedly cause natural disasters and mass casualties. and yes, he’s capable of controlling people’s bodily fluids, including their blood and saliva. he is terrifying

but even if someone manages to beat him, he dips one toe in some water and he’s immediately healed and even stronger than before. whether the injury is internal or external. he’s healed all on his own. no ambrosia or nectar or external remedies necessary.

guys. percy is insane. he’s way overpowered.

and i love it.

[ilikeloons]

Alright bird nerds, buckle up. It's profile picture lore time.

This is an 'I'iwi (ee-EE-vee) or a Scarlet Honeycreeper. They are endemic only to the Hawaiian Islands and high high altitudes. Although they will sometimes head further down to forage for food, which is flower nectar (unsurprising after peeping that beak). They are in the same family as the American gold Finch and Pine Siskin - which is a fact that blew my mind.

They are at risk from mammal introduction to the islands and avian pox/malaria and scarce food. The 'ōhi'a tree, one of their main food sources, is similarly vulnerable from a fungus that can kill a tree in a matter of days.

This 'I'iwi was photographed at Hosmer Grove in Haleakalā National Park. We were able to watch them for a few hours before heading up to the summit. I had gotten a few of the photos below, but not up close shots. On our way back down the volcano, I asked my boyfriend if he minded stopping for an extra 20 mins to see if I could get a closer picture. Right as I walked into the grove I got this shot.

Few others from the same day:

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Wool-Carder Bees: these solitary bees harvest the soft, downy hairs that grow on certain plants, rolling them into bundles and then using the material to line their nests

Wool-carder bees build their nests in existing cavities, usually finding a hole/crevice in a tree, a plant stem, a piece of rotting wood, or a man-made structure, and then lining the cavity with woolly plant fibers, which are used to form a series of brood cells.

The fibers (known as trichomes) are collected from the leaves and stems of various plants, including lamb’s ear (Stachys byzantina), mulleins, globe thistle, rose campion, and other fuzzy plants.

From the University of Florida's Department of Entomology & Nematology:

The female uses her toothed mandibles to scrape trichomes off fuzzy plants and collects a ball of the material under her abdomen. She transports these soft plant fibers to her selected nest site and uses them to line a brood cell. Next, she collects and deposits a provision of pollen and nectar into the cell, enough pollen to feed a larva until it is ready to pupate. Lastly, she lays a single egg on top of the pollen and nectar supply before sealing the cell. ... She will repeat this process with adjoining cells until the cavity is full.

These are solitary bees, meaning that they do not form colonies or live together in hives. Each female builds her own nest, and the males do not have nests at all.

Female wool-carder bees will sometimes sting if their nest is threatened, but they are generally docile. The males are notoriously aggressive, however; they will often chase, head-butt, and/or wrestle any other insect that invades their territory, and they may defend their territory from intruders up to 70 times per hour. The males do not have stingers, but there are five tiny spikes located on the last segment of their abdomen, and they often use those spikes when fighting. They also have strong, sharp mandibles that can crush other bees.

There are many different types of wool-carder bee, but the most prolific is the European wool-carder (Anthidium manicatum), which is native to Europe, Asia, and North Africa, but has also become established as an invasive species throughout much of North America, most of South America, and New Zealand. It is the most widely distributed unmanaged bee in the world.

A few different species of wool-carder bee: the top row depicts the European wool-carder, A. manicatum (left) and the spotted wool-carder, Anthidium maculosum (right), while the bottom row depicts the reticulated small-woolcarder, Pseudoanthidium reticulatum, and Porter's wool-carder, Anthidium porterae

Sources & More Info:

University of Florida: The Woolcarder Bee

Oregon State University: European Woolcarder Bees

Bohart Museum of Entomology: Facts about the Wool Carder Bee (PDF)

Bumblebee Conservation Trust: A. manicatum

World's Best Gardening Blog: European Wool Carder Bees - Likeable Bullies

Biological Invasions: Global Invasion by Anthidium manicatum

[cselandscapearchitect]

From Seed to Sight: A Comprehensive Guide to Growing and Propagating Asclepias Tuberosa for a Lively Butterfly Garden

Brief Overview of Asclepias tuberosa (Butterfly Weed) Asclepias tuberosa, commonly known as butterfly weed, is a captivating, brightly colored perennial plant native to North America. It is a member of the milkweed family, Apocynaceae, and it thrives in a wide range of environments, from open prairies to roadsides. The plant is renowned for its vibrant orange-to-yellow flowers that cluster at…

[tittiesnhrtz]

prisoner!ellie hcs

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ mostly keeps to herself and spends most of her time reading or drawing in the shabby prison library, or jogging and working out in the yard, trying to stay out of trouble. but, she ends up making enemies anyway because of her snarky mouth.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ she either got in for selling drugs or murder, there's no in between. if it's the latter, she cries herself to sleep some nights, too sorrow-stricken—even if she believes they deserved it—to care about waking up other prisoners.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ who’s trying (keyword: trying) so hard to not get a shot from the prison guards everyday. but her stubbornness and temper know better.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ she tries to ignore you when she finds out you’re her new cell mate. but let’s be honest, who doesn’t get lonely in that shithole? so she eventually warms up to you and even offers her commissary sometimes.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ she finds herself growing attached to you; like a wasp to the saccharine nectar of an entrancing flower. she goes wherever you go and the whole prison knows you both are inseparable.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ it isn’t long until she’s catching feelings for you, trying so hard to not look or blush when you’re taking a shower in the communal bathroom, and she’s waiting outside, holding the towel for you.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ she would never make the first move. she’s too busy overthinking and trying not to read between the lines, that the whole prison realises you're flirting with her before she does.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ when the prison lights are off and the other prisoners are out like light, she makes space for you in her bottom bunk so you can lie down next to her and have your daily deep conversations. she’d find herself transfixed, listening to you ramble about the most random things, drawing deeper meanings even from the ridiculous, the only source of light being the moonlight spilling through the tiny window. she’s truly grateful for having found someone like you when she’d lost hope and succumbed to the darkness.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ she broke out into a fight with one of the prisoners who was calling you names, punching the other girl in the eye and what not. the prison broke into a commotion and poor girl got sent to shu (solitary confinement) for a week. when she returned to your worried face and puffy red eyes, her heart ached and she swore she’d never let her temper get the best of her again. but she had to admit, she was in cloud nine seeing you cared about her just as much as she did for you.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ she fumbles over her words and blushes so hard when you call her your prison wife jokingly. she mumbles a 'shut up' though she's not opposed to the idea, not even a bit.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ you finally make a move when you realize she's never going to and she'd go as far as to learn how to live with her feelings suppressed.

she's walking back from her work that pays less than a dollar, after having helped fix some broken pipes, when she sees you waiting for her.

“you waitin’ on me?” she questions after approaching you in long strides. she was sweaty, covered in dirt and grime and in desperate need of a shower.

but that didn’t stop you from leaning in and kissing her. after being in a prison for months, hygiene was the least of your concerns.

a surprised noise leaves her lips, but soon she’s fluttering her eyes close and relishing the moment. she smelt like a mix of the mango sorbet scented soap you both shared and sweat. when the kiss starts to deepen, she pulls away, conscious of her state.

“i’m pretty nasty.” she laughs awkwardly, her cheeks flushed.

“do you wanna be my prison wife?”

her eyes widen at the question, you sound serious and you’re not joking this time. she stares at you for a whole minute, processing your words before she breaks out into a giggle. she gives you that smile, her dimples on display.

“i’ll consider it.” she says, although, internally she’s screaming ‘yes’ and fighting the urge to hug you.

kinda nsfw

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ a lot of quickies in the bathroom or behind the secluded cabin in the yard. head buried in each other’s shoulders or hand clamping the mouth of the other’s to not get caught by the creepy guards or other prisoners.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ when you finally get some privacy, she makes sure she can hear every sound you make, watching your reactions closely like she’s trying to memorise it and hold onto it for thinking about it when she’s away from you.

“you like that, baby?” her words vibrate against your clit, eliciting a moan from you.

“yeah, you like that.” she giggles as she looks up at you through her eyelashes, making eye contact, before she goes back to devouring your pussy.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ she’s not satisfied until she’s pulled four orgasms from you on most days. she just loves seeing you all fucked out, knowing she was the one who caused it.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ always groping your ass in public or smacking it when she thinks the guards aren’t looking. when you’re in the prison cafeteria feeding her her meal—because to her the slop they serve is bearable only when it’s your fingers wrapping around the spoon and bringing the food up to her mouth—she’ll slide a hand up your thigh and rest it awfully close to your cunt, drawing stars near the area, as she looks at you with an innocent smile.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ she’s extremely needy some days. especially after a tiresome day at work and not being able to see you as the officers piled extra work on her. not even two minutes into kissing and she’s already humping your thigh, her slick sticking to her underwear. she’ll whine pathetically, all the while complaining about how tired she is and how much she missed you, making you just give in instead of teasing her.

bonus

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ when she finds out you’re getting released, her heart feels heavy, like someone just squeezed lemon juice on her open wounds. she sucks it up and pretends to be happy for you nonetheless, knowing you’ll finally get to take a proper shower, eat normal food and sleep on a bed that doesn’t give you neck pain every single day.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ but, what if she mattered to you only in the confined grounds of prison? what if you’ll forget her the minute you step outside? you’ll just walk out into the world, make new friends, new experiences, and a life that will no longer include her. these thoughts gnaw at her but she never asks you about it.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ she doesn’t do a very good job at hiding her worries though. you see right through her facade and assure her you’ll be waiting for her on the other side. and you stick true to your words, sending her letters, calling her during ‘phone time’ and visiting her almost everyday during visitation hours. you tell her about your life and how the parole officer is still a pain in the ass while she tells you about the prison gossip and how lonely it feels without you.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ she’s on her best behaviour all the time, her main motive being to serve her time and get out so she can be with you, properly. so when she finally gets released, the first thing she does is ask joel to buy a diamond ring, saying she’ll lend him the money back, and meet her outside the prison. she knows you’d be waiting for her in the car to pick her up from the prison. after bidding joel goodbye, she jogs over to your car and throws herself in the passenger seat.

“hey, baby.” she grins, buzzing with excitement, anticipation and anxiousness. she was finally free and it took all her self control to not fling herself onto you and make love to you right here after yearning for the warmth of your touch for so long.

“hey.” you manage a smile, feeling overwhelmed by seeing her, and this time without a guard monitoring interactions between an inmate and a visitor.

“fuck, that was the longest five years of my life.” she leaned back in her seat and let out a soft sigh. her hand reaches over the centre console, coming to rest on your thigh. her fingers tap a nervous rhythm as she looks at you. she’d been planning this moment for months, but now that it was happening, she felt nervous as hell.

she pulled her clammy hand away from your thigh, inhaling sharply as she averted her gaze. her fingers fiddled with the small ring box before pulling it out. “uh..do you want to be my prison wife, but without the ‘prison’?”

[teliphone]

The Wilderness is Pleased

Lottie Matthews x Fem!Reader x Shauna Shipman 

Warning(s): Manipulation, Biting, Blood, Groping

-

Lottie hands you the teacup with a soft look. You pause for a bit, feeling unsure.

This is not the first time you’ve drunk the special herb tea. You’re only doing it again because Lottie asked. Her face was so excited when she found out you could hear the wilderness. So, she asked you to listen to it again. You couldn’t say no to her face. You felt extremely proud that Lottie found you gifted, even though the tea made you feel paranoid and anxious afterwards. 

You lift your hands to grab onto the teacup. Lottie gives you an assuring and proud smile. She takes a seat next to you with watchful eyes. You examine the brown, warm liquid before looking up at her. She slowly nods her head, placing a finger underneath the cup. She gestures the cup up to your lips. The tip of the cup reaches between your lips, but you pause after hearing some branches snapping. You turn your head to the side to identify the person. 

Shauna reveals herself behind the trees. She silently analyzes you and Lottie. The cup between your hands catches her attention. 

“Can I join?” She breaks the silence. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Shauna never once believed in the wilderness’s presence. In fact, she called it bullshit. Why is she suddenly interested? Before you could ask her, Lottie stood up excitedly. 

“Of course. Come sit here,” She chirps and gestures to the empty spot next to you. She rushes to the fire pit and bends down to pick up the small bucket. She pours it out into another cup. While Lottie is busy doing that, Shauna takes a seat next to you, shoulders brushing against yours. Her face is emotionless, making it hard for you to read her. 

“I thought you didn’t believe in this,” You whisper. Shauna smiles and leans her body towards you, expressing comfort. She shrugs her shoulders. 

“Show me it’s true,” She whispers back. You blush and avert your attention back to the cup of tea. Deep down, you don’t know if it’s true. But Lottie has shown you so much, it’s hard not to believe. 

Lottie comes back and hands Shauna a cup. You watch her hold onto it and quickly bring it to her lips. She chugs the liquid down as if nothing. You widen your eyes at her confidence. Lottie breaks into a wide smile. Adrenaline was coursing through her body even though she didn’t take the drink. You wanted Lottie to be proud of you as well. You immediately follow after. Taking the bittersweet tea down your throat. You grimace at the taste as you place the teacup on the ground. Shauna breaks out into a soft laugh, revealing her teeth. You wipe your lips nervously. Lottie takes a seat in front of the two of you. Eagerness and hope were written all over her face. 

The three of you wait for the tea to kick in. It doesn’t take that long before the two of you start to feel it. You feel your head swaying every time you look around. An annoying buzzing sound reaches your ear. You clench your fist and squeeze your eyes. 

“It’s happening,” Lottie whispers. The buzzing becomes louder, causing you to hyperventilate. You jerk your head around wildly, trying to find the source of the sound. Lottie rushes to your side, her hands touching your thighs. 

“Tell me, what do you hear?” She questions worriedly. 

“I-I don’t know,” You stammer. 

“Listen closer… come on. I know you can,” Lottie assures. She brings her hands up to gently brush your hair. Suddenly, you feel another hand on top of yours. Calloused fingertips rub your knuckles. You look up to see Shauna’s dark brown eyes staring deep into yours. 

“…I hear it,” She breathes out. You slightly widen your eyes. Did It choose Shauna? You frown and close your eyes to focus. No, this can’t be. You must hear it too. 

“What does it say, Shauna?” Lottie asks, still brushing your hair. Shauna licks her lips as she hesitates. 

“It wants me to taste her sweet nectar,” Shauna reveals, eyes dilating. Deep inside, she was lying. She didn’t hear shit. Yes, the tea made her feel loopy and buzzed, but she was still kinda sober. Truthfully, she was only here for you. She knew the advantages she would get. She saw how the last time you were here, Lottie made a bite mark on you. It gave her a brilliant idea. 

You slowly lift your head to look at Shauna. Your head starts to throb and you wince. Maybe you’ve been drinking too much of this tea. 

“Whose nectar?” you manage to say. The words coming out of your mouth don't even make sense. 

“Yours,” Shauna answers. You feel your body freeze and the buzzing noises stop. You carefully look around to make sure the buzzing will come back. It doesn’t. You could only hear the soft gust of wind rustling against the leaves. 

Shauna must be right. That could only explain why the throbbing pain and noises disappeared. The wilderness wanted this moment to happen. 

Lottie seems to understand and reaches down to touch your other hand. She squeezes your palm, making you glance up at her. 

“This is what it wants. Obey it,” She assures, nodding her head. You slowly follow her gesture by nodding your head too. Anything for the wilderness… anything for Lottie. Shauna places her hands underneath your jaw and turns your attention to her. Her lips curve into a small smirk. 

Shauna leans forward, gently capturing your lips against hers. You quickly flutter your eyes shut. Her plump lips move slowly, making your heart pound loudly. You feel Lottie rubbing your knuckles in a soothing tempo. You let out a small pant, making Shauna deepen the kiss. Her thumb continually rubs your lower jaw. 

Shauna starts kissing down your neck, her warm tongue brushing against your skin. You tilt your head back, allowing her more access. Lottie presses her face into your hair.

“Good girl… Let it happen,” She whispers sweetly. Shauna kisses down to the space between your neck and shoulders. Her tongue runs against it before grinding her teeth against your skin. You bring your hands up to hold her head. Suddenly, her teeth start nipping at your skin. You cry out in pain and thrash around. Lottie tightens her hold on you, keeping you still. Shauna moans once your blood coats her tongue. She continues shamelessly sucking and licking, nearly getting drunk. Her tongue and saliva burn your broken skin. She pulls away from you with a smile. Your blood coats her lips and drips to her chin. Lottie’s breathing starts becoming heavy. 

“Thank you for your blessings,” Lottie hums, catching her breath. Shauna slowly licks her lips and chuckles. She stands up and begins to remove her flannel. She drops the flannel onto the ground and pulls her shirt by the neck. She grabs a knife out of her pocket. She lifts it, making you shake in fear, until you watch her slice her skin below the neck. You analyze how her blood runs down and soaks her shirt. 

“Your turn,” She orders. You hesitate again, but Lottie puts her hand out. She pulls you up to stand, one hand on your waist, the other on your head. Without saying anything, she pushes your head down to meet Shauna’s cut. You shut your eyes and nervously stick out your tongue. Her blood tastes metallic and feels warm. You force yourself to bite and suck harder. She moans loudly, buckling her hips into your body. She wraps her hand around your head and pulls you closer. 

“Devore me,” She moans. Your mind spins as you continue biting. You continue kissing her skin for a bit longer till you feel Lottie gently tugging you away. 

“That’s… enough. It says that’s good enough,” Lottie says. You stare at the wet red mess on Shauna’s neck. You shake in shock. No way you just did that. Lottie slides her hand underneath your jaw to make you look at her. Her eyes are extremely dilated. More than you have ever seen, and she didn’t even drink the special tea. She leans her face down and kisses you deeply and gently. Her sneaky hands begin to roam over your body. You feel one hand running down and groping your bottom while the other grips your hair. She moans and chuckles in the kiss from tasting the shared blood. 

Shauna curses under her breath at the scene. The view of you two sharing bloody kisses is so hot to her. She walks up behind you, leaning her lips to your shoulders. She starts kissing and gently biting again. Her hands move up to grope your chest. 

You moan and cry from the feeling of two girls having their way with you. Hums and praises were released from both of their lips. The wind blows harder, making the leaves scatter beneath your feet. The wilderness is pleased.

[coldalbion]

I SWEAR BY ALMIGHTY RIVER

From another article on this, first, because it's also relevant:

"The barrister Paul Powlesland, who has acted for climate protesters, was called to jury service last week, and made judicial history by taking an oath on the thing most holy to him – not an ancient book, but a cupful of water from his local river in north-east London: “I swear by the River Roding, from her source in Molehill Green to her confluence with the Thames,” he said, “that I will faithfully try the defendant and give a true verdict according to the evidence.” Powlesland explained that he wanted to promote the idea of the sacredness of nature, and its place in the legal system. “I hope that many others follow suit,” he said, “and animism is soon found more regularly in our courts.” In fact, the practice has the oldest of precedents. The first recorded oaths in western literature were made by the Homeric gods, who were, you will recall, in the habit of swearing on the waters of River Styx. As Hesiod wrote, breaking such a vow had serious consequences: “And whoever of the gods, pours of this water, and swears on it, and does so falsely, he is laid flat, and does not breathe, until a year is completed; nor will he have ambrosia and nectar to eat, but be laid on his bed while the evil coma covers him.”

And from the main article:

“I explained that nature is my God and I believe the Roding to be sacred and I manifest love in action for her, and in all the things that I do for her, and it would be a really meaningful promise to me,” said Powlesland. “I dipped my finger into a cup of the Roding water and said that ‘I swear on the River Roding from her source in Molehill Green to her confluence with the Thames that I will faithfully try the case and give a true verdict according to the evidence.’ “I got a feeling from the judge that he felt the truth in my voice, that this was a meaningful, sacred promise to me. It wasn’t just me playing silly buggers.” Powlesland is also the co-founder of Lawyers for Nature, a group campaigning for elements of the natural world to be recognised in law in Britain. Rivers, lakes and rainforests have been given legal personhood in countries including New Zealand, Spain, Ecuador and Australia."

[chikaras-garden]

Batboys as things that go bump in the night

So what if he’s not human?

Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x fem!reader

Contains: Monsterfucking. Dubcon. Unprotected piv sex in Dick’s, Jason’s, and Damian’s. Blood in Bruce’s. Somnophilia and light breeding kink in Dick’s. Knotting in Jason’s. Oral sex (f!receiving) in Tim’s. Degradation in Damian’s.

Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked. Happy Halloweekend angels!

BRUCE WAYNE 🦇

A loner. A constant shadow over Gotham. A collector of all things macabre. And now, he has his sights set on you. You’re a pretty thing, dressed in all black at a late-autumn gala, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze on you even when your back is turned.

So it’s no surprise that, when you tempt fate by rounding a corner into a deserted hallway, you are not alone.

Stepping out of the shadows, Bruce’s hand clamps around one side of your throat, leaving just one side—the side of your pulse—exposed for his lips. He kisses you there far more than he kisses your lips, nibbling and suckling the soft flesh over your pulse. Your heart beats faster and faster as your knees go weak, but his arm tightens around you.

“I have you, darling,” he husks. His skin is cold against yours, but perhaps that’s because the all-consuming presence of a man like this makes your blood run hot.

His other hand comes up to cup your flushed cheek, thumb dragging along the shape of your face as if he’s trying to memorize you.

“So warm. Such soft skin,” he murmurs, bending his head low and kissing your neck. “Such a beautiful creature.”

Something twists in your stomach when he says that—creature. An instinct tells you to run, but you quickly realize that the look in his eyes has you completely enthralled. He’s watching you with purpose, always keeping your eyes locked as if looking away from you will break the spell he has you under.

“I have to taste you,” he whispers, voice raw with a strain whose source you cannot place. He inhales deeply and lets out a low, feral noise before you feel a twinned shock of pain that makes you gasp: blood rushes to your neck and spills from your broken skin onto his waiting tongue, which greedily laps at the sweet nectar he just stole.

DICK GRAYSON 🦇

You never remember what happened the morning after your nights with your blue-eyed visitor in black, but you can’t stop the way your body aches for the mysterious stranger. At first, you thought he was a dream, but even you know that your unconscious can’t conjure up something as beautiful as him.

He wakes you by laying on top of you, pushing his hot-as-Hell flesh against yours. You didn’t go to sleep naked, but you’re naked now; your clothes are gone, but you’re covered with him, his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, one of his hands painfully squeezing the other, and his red-tipped cock already bullying its way into your slick folds. 

It hurts, but the ache is so dizzying that you can’t bring yourself to care, especially when you’re aware that you won’t remember this by morning anyway. You feel as if you’re being burned alive and made new in just the way he wants you. And that feels good, doesn’t it? Why else would you have woken up with your pussy soaking wet? 

He picks his head up just enough to watch you watch him while his tongue traces the outer edge of your areola and flicks your nipple in slow strokes, teasing it into hardness with just the tip of his tongue. He’s kneeling between your legs, and his free hand slides down to gently stroke your belly—which is when you notice that his fingers, like his cock, are tipped with blood-red skin.

Then comes his dark murmur, “Let me fill you, pretty thing. Let me give you a little gift to help you remember me.”

Your breath catches and, once again, he latches on—teeth first, this time.

At the same time, he thrusts into you, cock heavy and fire-hot, searing your skin and all but tearing you open while you keen and grasp at him, fingernails scraping down his back. His warmth is inescapable as he thrusts into you with inhuman force.

And you swear that, when he comes, filling you with his infernal seed, you catch a glimpse of a ruby glimmer in his once-blue eyes.

JASON TODD 🦇

Honestly, you handled finding out that your boyfriend is a werewolf remarkably well. But because you’re a human, he has one rule: no knotting. That is, until an October full moon has him more feral than usual, trapped in a rut that he’s powerless to fight against.

Jason has you hiked up against his chest, barely balanced on his thick thighs with your panties shoved aside. One finger is pressed firmly against your clit, the claws that come with his half-transformed state lightly grazing your sensitive skin. He’s already buried inside of you, thrusting so shallowly that he may as well be humping your innermost walls.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder. His skin rages with heat while his muscles tremble, lips mouthing along any inch of your skin that he can reach. Head heavy on your shoulder, he rasps out broken sentences, each cut off by animalistic whimpers and whines. “God, fuck— I can’t— I shouldn’t— You’re—”

You have one hand tangled in his hair, thumbing the soft black-and-white fur that crawls up along his hybrid ears. His cock, impossibly thick already, stretches you even more open than you already were, and you throw your head back to let out a moan of mixed pleasure-pain.

“Fuck,” he whispers, because he feels it too. “Baby, I’m— It’s—”

“Let it,” you gasp, feeling lightheaded with the pain of Jason filling you so completely, cockhead swelling so full that he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to. “Please, please, Jason, I need it.”

All that gets you is another guttural groan from him, a sound as close to a howl as he can make without being fully transformed. Still swelling, his cock is thick, heavy, hot—pulsing inside of you, begging to stay there, to fill you, to mark and mate with you. You can’t imagine what it must look like, but you know that the feeling is divine: this oneness, this wholeness, is something you’ve never felt before. It’s almost enough to dull how much your pussy aches.

“Jason,” you moan, tears filling your eyes.

“I know,” he soothes, trying to stay sturdy and stable for you even though his whole body is trembling. “Fuck, it— Baby, you feel so good. Such a good fucking girl, letting me mate with you. Gonna make you feel amazing, I promise.”

TIM DRAKE 🦇

“Stay still,” Tim teases, clawed fingers clamping down on your hip. “Or no rewards.”

Your back is pressed against the chilly, damp wall of the bat cave, and your clothes are shreds around your feet. You know this is all your fault, that you should have avoided the man who has only made his obsession with you painfully clear. As soon as the half-dragon spotted you—his treasure, his paramour, his little human love—he pounced. 

Half changed with pewter green scales climbing up his skin and pupils narrowed into reptilian slits, Tim wastes no time in turning your clothes into ribbons of fabric in effort to get to you.

And then he drops to his knees, burying his face in between your legs.

The forked tongue laves up and down the folds of your pussy, skirting along the outside of your sopping hole until you’re shuddering, clinging to him. His hand digs in harder, talons piercing the soft skin of your ass, scaly palm forcing your cunt against his mouth until you feel the sting of sharpened teeth against your mound.

Even though his teeth sting your pulsing flesh, even though his licks are too fast to be completely pleasurable, you feel yourself grow slick around his tongue. Your head falls back against the wall and you begin to pant, heart beating so fast that you start to feel faint, teetering on the edge of consciousness.

His forked tongue reaches impossibly deep within you. The fleshy muscle feels wrong but also so good, skin fading from soft pink to greenish-black, its texture rough and bumpy, stimulating you from more directions than you have ever felt at once. 

He licks all the way to your cervix—a thing no mere mortal man could ever do to you—greedily biting, sucking, and growling against your throbbing, abused pussy until finally you come with a pitiful, worn-out scream.

You feel his ice-cold lips pull into a smile as he breathes, “Good human. Now give me another—or three more. Maybe five.”

DAMIAN WAYNE 🦇

You go to the guardian of an ancient library for help but, poor you, the sphinx’s riddles prove too challenging for you. In accordance with the legends, you expect to be smited on the spot, or at least banished, but instead—the sphinx shifts to his human form and decides that you are his.

How lucky it is that Damian decides he likes you enough to keep you captive instead of simply killing you as punishment. How lucky it is that he is clever enough to find a use for your frail human form. How lucky it is that he doesn’t find mating with you as repulsive as he originally thought.

“At least work for it,” he drawls, stifling a yawn while he leans back on the emerald-green settee. His arms are spread, powerful shoulders and biceps making him look even bigger than he already is. No, he never touches you—that would be demeaning—but he does offer you the privilege of riding his cock until you make yourself come.

You close your eyes and drive your hips forward and down, trying to strike the spot inside you that only he can reach. No sooner than your eyes flutter closed, though, he snaps his fingers in front of you.

“Look at me, pet.” His head rests on the back of the chair, lips parted with every breath that makes his chest slowly rise and fall. His face looks warm and you wonder what it might feel like to kiss those plush lips—but you’re also coherent enough to realize that he’s measuring his breaths on purpose.

You’re getting to him. You think. You hope. Maybe if you please him, he’ll let you go. 

He shifts his hips up and you cry out, nearly losing your balance on his powerful thighs, but a warm hand suddenly cups your ass to drag you back into place. He leans forward, stomach flexing, and murmurs in your ear, “Can’t even do this without help, can you? Useless little human.”

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

This Brazilian frog might be the first pollinating amphibian known to science

Nectar-loving tree frog likely moves pollen from flower to flower

The creamy fruit and nectar-rich flowers of the milk fruit tree are irresistible to Xenohyla truncata, a tree frog native to Brazil. On warm nights, the dusky-colored frogs take to the trees en masse, jostling one another for a chance to nibble the fruit and slurp the nectar. In the process, the frogs become covered in sticky pollen grains—and might inadvertently pollinate the plants, too. It’s the first time a frog—or any amphibian—has been observed pollinating a plant, researchers reported last month in Food Webs.

Scientists long thought only insects and birds served as pollinators, but research has revealed that some reptiles and mammals are more than up to the task. Now, scientists must consider whether amphibians are also capable of getting the job done. It’s likely that the nectar-loving frogs, also known as Izecksohn’s Brazilian tree frogs, are transferring pollen as they move from flower to flower, the authors say. But more research is needed, they add, to   confirm that frogs have joined the planet’s pantheon of pollinators.

Source.

[endless-ineffabilities]

sapphire-hearted (part six)

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Aemond races to find you, but will he be too late?

themes/warnings: language, some angst and pining, Aemond's attempt at being a wedding crasher

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The days in King’s Landing have stretched thin and hollow since you departed. Aemond’s face is impassive, his mouth a tense line as he stalks through the stone corridors, but beneath his steely exterior, frustration gnaws away, relentless in its assault.

Your voice, your touch, the sweet nectar of your cunny—the memory of his last encounter with you festers like a wound. He sees it, feels it all whenever he shuts his eyes, the way his incomparable, beautiful Lady rode him without abandon. 

But you left a fortnight ago, bound for your familial seat, House Darry in the Riverlands, with barely a farewell. You mentioned something about duty, and tending to an ailing cousin, and you were gone before he could fully express his displeasure. He impatiently awaits for you to return to him, for it is in his arms where you truly belong. 

Alys is relentless. Her whispered words, her sidelong glances, all promises of power and alliance. She revels in his ambition. In his hunger for victory, which proves to be rather personal than for the good of the Crown. She knows what to offer him, and what to ask for in exchange—a babe, half dragonblood and half witchling—but his mind is distant, always circling back to you. Alys’ proposal has lost its taste in your absence. 

Even Alys senses it now, the dangerous edge in Aemond’s silence, a fury held too tightly under control. He burns with yearning for you, and the possibility of winning without you by his side has begun to feel hollow. 

If only you would understand what he must do. If only you could see the truth of Alys’ hand in keeping Aegon on the throne. But you fail to give credit to what Aemond has had to sacrifice.

The hour is late, but when he turns the corner, Aegon is lounging idly, surrounded by his lackeys by one of the grand columns, an amused smile on his lips.

“Brother, why you look like a storm in chains,” Aegon says, stretching with that lazy indifference only he could manage. “And yet, I believe I am aware of the source of your… troubles.”

Aemond’s eyes narrow. “If you have something to say, then speak it.”

Aegon chuckles, barely perturbed. “Ah, but it is known! In a few hours, your dearest beloved is to wed, or so I hear, I never pay much mind to things of no import… To Ramsay Beesbury of all men, that honeyed sod.” He pauses, savouring the shift in Aemond’s expression. “Surely word must have reached you?”

There is a flash in Aemond’s eyes, one that shifts quickly from shock to a lethal rage. “No one informed me,” he says, his voice taut as a blade. “Who arranged this?”

Aegon only shrugs, entirely too amused. “By the gods, brother, how the fuck should I know? They did make their impending union known at my feast… how long ago was it now, a moon’s time? Well, until you whisked the lady away and bed her, but who am I to pass judgment?”

“Are they not still in the middle of their courtship? It is uncustomary to be wed with such haste—”

“If you ask me, it is about time that the lady wed! She is not growing younger in her years, and she cannot live the rest of her days as your chamberwhore.”

Aemond sees red, and rushes forward in a flash, slamming the King against the wall with a hand constricting his windpipe. “Gods—” Aegon wheezes. His lackeys immediately tense, but none of them possesses the mettle to lay a finger on the one-eyed Prince.

It takes Aemond only a heartbeat to make up his mind. He releases Aegon with a sharp shove, turns on his heel, and strides from the hall without another word, deaf to the empty threats that are hurled at his retreating figure. His steps grow faster, surer as he nears the courtyard. Fury roars within him, a sensation like dragonfire climbing his spine. Sunrise would soon encroach upon the Seven Kingdoms, and its arrival will not herald your being bound to another man, not if he has any say.

Outside, the sky is a gathering of clouds, low and grey against the breaking dawn, as if even the heavens brace for a storm. Vhagar waits, her massive form shifting in the courtyard shadows, her eyes bright with predatory instinct. Aemond mounts her with barely a breath, his mind fixed solely on one destination: Honeyholt, the seat of House Beesbury, the only place the wedding could be held. As Vhagar rises into the evening sky, he feels the wind pull fiercely at him, and he pushes forward with a singular, roaring intensity.

There will be no union between yourself and Beesbury. 

A woman’s hands fasten your cloak, the pale blue silk colour of your House whispering as it settles against your form. Soon, it will be replaced by one of sable and yellow, to symbolise the House of your husband. 

You have not slept all night, thoughts of Aemond swirling in your mind like a curse. You have known this would be difficult, but this was something you need to do, and the day is finally here. Your hands tremble only slightly as they lift to adjust your gown, the scent of fresh lilies filling the room as servants bustle in preparation.

In your mind, you still see him. And in your heart… you still love him, and perhaps you always will. But you have no recourse but to surrender yourself to your marriage, lest you wish to have any chance at happiness. It will be nigh impossible to find any peace of mind whilst in possession of the knowledge that Aemond shares his bed with the witch, who will soon be granted the honour of carrying his babe.

You recall the way he held you as though you belonged to him, as though he could bend your very will. Your breath catches at the memory of how his voice trembled, the barely restrained desire that drove him to bind you closer, never allowing you to slip from his grasp. But you cannot let yourself drown in yearning. Not now. You steel yourself, forcing your thoughts back to the present.

“It is time, my Lady,” one of your handmaidens says gently, watching you with quiet sympathy. You feel the weight of your choice settle upon you, solid and unyielding. It is time to move forward, to leave that chapter of your life behind. Your hands rest against your wedding gown as you straighten, breathing in the finality of it all. 

And breathing his memory out.

Dawn has crept over the landscape, a pale light spilling over the stone walls and casting the ceremony in a shivering, spectral haze. The air is heavy with expectation, the kind that tenses every muscle, as if the entire world holds its breath. You feel it, deep within you—the stupid urge to run, to look over your shoulder, to see if he’s coming. 

It is a senseless thought, to wish for Aemond to come, when you purposefully made arrangements so that he would be unable to. So you force yourself to carry on, your resolve unbroken.

Ramsay Beesbury waits at the altar, the only other soul bound to this day, and you let yourself drift into the ceremony, the Septon’s words washing over you in a haze. You remind yourself to let go of the past; you cannot wait for a man who sees you as something to own, to control. 

Aemond might have sullied the love you once shared, a bond that grew and blossomed through the years—one you once believed unbreakable. 

But everything breaks. Men, kingdoms, dragons.

Even love.

The courtyard is swathed in the sun's early rays. Shadows give way to hazy beams, and as the morning stirs, so does the assembly gathered for the ceremony. The bride stands at the altar, hands clasped tightly as the Septon’s voice resonates through the stillness, weighted with tradition.

“…to honour and cherish, in this life and beyond,” the Septon intones, his voice a steady murmur, melding with the faint rustling of the wind and whispers from the onlookers. Your gaze drifts briefly over the scene, lingering on familiar faces, as you try to anchor yourself in the reality of the moment. Your heart thrums heavily, and your mind threatens to veer right back to Aemond—you can almost hear his voice, and envision how livid he would be when he finds out about your union.

He may burn the Seven Kingdoms to ash. That is, if he would not be occupied with his precious Alys.

High above the clouds, Aemond rides Vhagar, her wings slicing through the clouds with adept ease. The wind howls in his ears, the icy chill biting at his skin, but he urges Vhagar on. The pit of dread in his stomach grows with each passing second. He is running out of time. 

“Naejot!” he yells a command. Faster.

The expanse of Westeros stretches beneath him, a blur of green and grey, but all he sees is his destination—Honeyholt, the place that holds you. His hands grip the rein tightly, and he presses closer to Vhagar’s scales, his mind brimming with the only thought that matters: You are his, and his only.

The ceremony progresses, and you can barely register Ramsay’s vows, the words floating in and out of your consciousness like half-heard whispers. His voice is steady, measured. His hands clasp yours gently, as gentle as the smile that graces his lips. 

“Our marriage will be one of devotion and serenity. You will want for nothing nor will our children,” he had promised. A far cry from Aemond’s proposition that you can be with him so long as he fathers the bastard of a bastard.

To an outsider, it would have been the easiest choice.

���...to protect and honour, as the gods are my witness,” Ramsay declares, his words certain. His grip on your hands tightens as he speaks, binding them together. After a moment, you hear your own name called, and the vows spill from your lips without a thought. 

The sun is now just a speck on the horizon as Aemond approaches Honeyholt. The great stone walls stand tall, silent and stark against the grey morning, but no sounds of gathering reach his ears. He circles once overhead, Vhagar’s immense wings casting a shadow over the land below, and he focuses his gaze, searching, hunting. The courtyard is empty, not a soul to be seen.

A sliver of uncertainty gnaws at him, yet he descends. The ground trembles as Vhagar lands, her powerful body settling on the stones, but as Aemond dismounts, there is no sign of you, no sign of anyone at all save for a few servants tending to the grounds. 

“Where is she?” he spits, his voice a thick growl that pierces through the silence.

As the ceremony nears its end, the tension in your heart becomes lighter. Your gaze lifts, distracted by a shadow that drifted in the periphery. You stand frozen, until you realise that it was but a mere raven. 

The largest dragon in all of the land is not present in the Riverlands.

“I take this vow willingly…” you murmur the end of your vows, your voice quiet, and soon it is over. 

Back at Honeyholt, Aemond’s hands curl into fists as he prowls through the empty courtyard. He has grown frantic, but there is nothing here—no preparations, no guests, no fucking bride. A cold, bitter truth settles over him, tightening his throat, and he mutters in a dark, furious whisper, “No. This can’t be.”

It comes to him in a flash of painful clarity, the realisation that you’re not here, that he’s been chasing shadows. The Riverlands. You’re in your castle in the Riverlands.

It betrays Westerosi custom, to have the union in the territorial land of the Lady’s House and not the Lord’s, but it can be done. And the marriage can still be accepted. 

But how insolent… how precisely aimed to injure him… to shame him… 

You knew this would happen.

“You planned this,” he breathes, his voice laced with anger and something dangerously close to despair. He feels both empty and full of rage, and the pain of your loss nearly brings him to his knees. His jaw is set, his gaze set with a darkness that would terrify anyone who saw it.

In Castle Darry in the Riverlands, the ceremony culminates in the final exchanges whispered between the bride and her groom, and in your cloak being replaced with one of House Beesbury. You take one last breath, a silent farewell to the life you are leaving behind, as your new life, your new future, binds you to Ramsay, your Lord husband.

It is strange, but you feel a peace settle over you. Aemond’s hold over you is no more. And for the first time, you realise that perhaps you are free. 

taglist (let me know in the comments if you wish to be added): @immyowndefender @aemondswifeisme @fuck-the-reaper @shessthunderstorms @aemondsbabygirl @melsunshine @snh96 @noxytopy @ellooo0ooo @brianochka @not-a-glad-gladiator @mac95650 @midnightmystic @saminalloxo @oh-no-tia @magnificentsapphiresoul @clara-geekhime @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @ananas26t @iloveallmyboys @carriellie @summerposie @verycollectivecreator @toodlesxcuddles @brie-annwyl @dc-marvel-girl96 @bellstwd @bibli0thecary @happinessinthebeing @magnificentsapphiresoul @rorawinters @targaryen-madness @hanula18 @rhaenattargaryen @an0ther-us3r @sugurubabe @theshatteredideal @let-love-bleeds-red @s-we-e-t-t-ea @mydemimonde @the-intjs-dark-academic @heavenly1927 @anehkael @minttea07 @barnes70stark @cheneyq @cloudroomblog @neptuneiris @zaldritzosrose @oh-theseus

Some notes in the margins..

Well, our Lady is finally a Ladywife. And not Aemond's at that! But there is more to come as we near the end. Will Aemond abandon Alys? Will he steal his love away? Parts seven and eight will have the answers 💙

[kuroshitsuji-wiki]

It's the Phantomhive twins' birthday! (December 14)

Yana Toboso's birthday art over the years (2008-2019):

This year, like in the years before, Yana was, unfortunately, too busy to draw something for the twins' birthday, but she acknowledged the day and congratulated the twins nonetheless!

Some trivia:

Queen Victoria's husband Prince Albert died on December 14, 1866, and her daughter Princess Alice on December 14, 1878. Alice was the first child of Victoria's to die; the day Alice passed away, the Queen wrote in her diary: "This terrible day come round again!"

December 14 is the the peak day of the Geminids meteor shower which occurs between December 7 and 17 every year. (Yana mentioned the meteor shower in the blog posts for Ciel's birthday in 2012, 2013, and 2014. Star/meteor imaginary can be found in the birthday illustrations for those years as well as the 2015, 2017, and 2018 ones.)

In 2014, Yana expressed her gratitude that she received "so many precious words by fans as Ciel’s parent [creator]" (source).

In 2012, she wrote that she believes Ciel "was born to live like a shooting star, i.e. moving in a straight line and then burning out. He’s such a happy child – so many people watch over him and celebrate his birthday with him." That blog post also contained this bit: "he acts like a real brat and commits all sorts of atrocities that are not suitable for a protagonist at all, so he’s not really worthy of so many generous words… ( ꒪⌓꒪)" (source).

The 2016 birthday illustration shows Ciel with pine: pine stand for "eternal youth and longevity" as well as "compassion" in the language of flowers (source).

In 2009 (!), Yana wrote that "in the manga, Ciel has just turned 13. Please continue supporting 13-year-old Ciel for another year" (source). (She refers to Chapter 14, the manga currently has 213 chapters.) As of 2024, he still hasn't turned 14 in the manga. (But an impressive 149 in the real world!)

Snake and Finnian's mission ended on December 9, 1889 (Chapter 109, pages 13-14). Ciel and Sebastian's mission to the Nectar Springs Hotel in Brighton (start: Chapter 211) sets the manga back to December 7. With the manga on hiatus and each mission lasting years in real time, the twins' 14th birthday is both close and far away, but will surely be a momentous event nevertheless.

[opt1mistic]

sae who get soooooooo annoyed at you when you nibble and bite his biceps but gets even more annoyed when you stop.

your two are sitting on the couch, your arm is round his middle and your cheek in pressed neatly into his bicep. your eyeing it from the corner of your eye, thinking about taking a bite out of him, and you just might. hes not playing much attention to you, focused on the tv. but he feels your head shift so your lips are now pressed to his arm. he knows it’s coming, but he doesn’t stop you. he never does.

he relaxes his bicep, not even noticing that it was all tense before. your lips part, and your teeth poke at his soft skin, gliding slightly, spreading saliva to the surface you’re about to penetrate with the sharpness of your teeth.

saes expecting just a nibble, a little bite if anything. his face washes over with a hint of fear as he feels a burning sensation on his bicep. jerking himself away from you in surprise.

“ow.”

“why did you do that?!”

he’s confused. you’ve always nibbled lightly, like a cat would at its food, never bit. hes hand flies to the bite mark, hissing as he touches the delicate flesh. there was blood now leaking down his forearm. he looks at you, batting his lashing is a way you could quite put a finger on. anger it seems.

but it wasn’t, far from fear. pleasure possibly. certainly.

your stare at him. “i’m sorry.”

“are you mad at me?”

sae puases. confused on why you think he would be.

“no.”

he leans back into his original position on the couch, and you cuddle into him once more. you gaze hard to the wound, thinking why he didn’t go get a tissue to stop the bleeding. nevertheless, you press your lips to the wound that’s still gushing out blood, kissing it, earning a twitch from sae. but he doesn’t move away this time, he stays in place almost waiting for something..

without a single thought you lick the blood, collecting the saccharine nectar on your tongue trying to savour the taste for longer. your tongue traces up to the source of the bleeding, and you almost sip on the juice-like blood.

sae watches you, hes gaze is careful but sharp as always. his hands sneaking to grip at your nude thigh, gripping it tighter and tighter with every hitch on his breath as you suck him dry of blood.

©opt1mistic

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

The Madagascan Sunset Moth: these moths are often mistaken for butterflies, thanks to their colorful, iridescent appearance

The scientific name of this species is Chrysiridia rhipheus, but it's commonly known as the Madagascan sunset moth. These gorgeous day-flying moths can be found only in Madagascar.

Above: a dorsal view of the same species

The Madagascan sunset moth has a strikingly colorful appearance, especially when its underwings are exposed, as a rainbow-like effect is produced by the iridescent scales that cover the underwings (and appear in smaller sections on the dorsal side of the wing).

Above: some of the iridescent scales on the underwings of Chrysiridia ripheus, as seen through a scanning electron microscope

The markings on the dorsal side are primarily black, with some patches of iridescent green, blue, and red. A "fringe" of white scales can also be seen along the edge of each wing; these are especially prominent on the hindwings.

Above: the dorsal patterns are visible only when the wings are left open

Like most day-flying moths, the adults of this species will often feed on nectar. Their caterpillars are known to consume Omphalea plants, which are toxic; those toxins are sequestered by the caterpillar and then retained through the pupal and adult stages of development, which means that the adult moth is toxic. Their colorful appearance is likely aposomatic, deterring predators by signaling that the moth itself is toxic.

Above: a magnified view of the white scales that outline the hindwings

Sources & More Info:

Navsari Agricultural University: Sunset Moth: the most beautiful insect

Oxford University Museum of Natural History: Madagascar

Moth Identification Guide: Madagascan Sunset Moth

California Academy of Sciences: Sunset Moth

Optica: Polarization-Sensitive Color Mixing in the Wing of the Madagascan Sunset Moth

Wikipedia: Chrysiridia rhipheus