#Raw rainforest honey

[blackdoghoney]

The Honeycomb In Compostable : Buy Honeycomb Online | Black Dog Honey

Bees create natural honeycomb through a fascinating and highly organized process. The natural honeycomb is a critical component of a beehive, serving as both a storage unit for honey and a nursery for developing bee larvae.100% natural, delicious, sticky honeycomb filled with our amazing RAW rainforest honey. Honeycomb is the purest form of enjoying fresh, raw honey.

Shop Now : https://blackdoghoney.com.au/product/buy-honeycomb-online/

[thewordswithini]

I am in love with you.

The words held a weight that was strangely unfamiliar to the buds dotting my spongy tongue, cautiously strung together to shape driplets of dewy warmth. Dewy brightness, dewy light that trembled as it carpeted my throat.

It was as if the warmth that had met my clicking rows of teeth had seeped through the skin of my cheeks, like the sweet nectar of freshly-pressed oranges draining between the cracks of a tightly clenched fist. My heart had replaced the collected oranges, siphoning blood to my cleansed face.

Smooth, yet broken, crushed beneath the pressure of affection bunched around the space of my collarbone.

What layer of heaven had crumbled from the rest and fallen to meet my side here on mortal ground, what god had turned from their offspring in order to bless my human-bound form with the presence of something purely unearthly? Something surely unearthly?

Even if just for mere minutes.

As the honeyed folds present in my palm meets yours, loosely tracing against the sculpted patterns in your skin, I feel something pull from the trench of my stomach, looping in unison with our fingers that run over hugged knuckles.

What is this feeling, I ask myself?

What dare try and steal from the time I share with you, trapped within my flushed ribcage?

I watch the green of your eyes tilt to align with mine, tinted in a shade only I can see as raw colors mix. Reserved for me is this gaze, mine is the bat of overlapping lashes perched above the slick beads resting before me. Slick with care, slick with a question preparing to file out of his parted mouth.

I take this chance to study his features as if I were a wise astrologist, stars flowering across the rich soil in my eyes. Blonde waves like molten gold caress the curves of his smile, framing skin akin to that of gods, heroes, warriors we’d read about in stories fed to us listening children with open mouths, open ears. It was only fitting.

“Would you stay a little longer, my love?” Sweetness, I remember the sticky nectar. Oh, how sweet is something so simple as the voice of heaven itself? If just a piece, a crumb.

There, the pulling hides, somewhere in the moist rainforest of my twisted abdomen. The meaning of what I’d somehow boldly murmured behind my creased, sweat-kissed forehead. The startle of my realization is only brief, swiftly cooling into further endearment.

I have gone beyond dipping my sand-licked feet into the sea of love dripping over my tongue, my throat, my cheeks, my collarbone.

I have become what my companion has placed upon my waiting shoulders, content with bearing the fate of being his love. My being, his love.

Wearing, fully drowning in what words has left his polished lips.

I am love for you.

“I would.”

I will, always.

[honeydaleprivatelimited]

Honey Varieties Around the World: A Global Journey of Flavors

Embark on an extraordinary global exploration of Raw honey varieties as we delve into the exquisite flavors that nature offers. From the lavender fields of Provence to the rainforests of Brazil, honey from different regions brings a tapestry of tastes to the table. Join us on this flavorful journey around the world as we uncover the secrets of honey's diverse flavors.

I. Unraveling Honey's Origins: Nature's Sweet Alchemy

A. Bees as Master Craftspeople:

Bees are the master craftspeople behind the remarkable process of Unfiltered honey production. They collect nectar from flowers and transform it through enzymatic processes into the golden liquid we know as honey. The bees' diligent work and remarkable abilities result in a substance that is not only delicious but also contains essential nutrients. (Source: The Honey Association)

B. Flavorful Influences:

Honey's taste is influenced by a variety of factors. The types of flowers and plants that bees forage on greatly impact the flavor profile of the honey. Environmental factors such as the geographical location, climate, and soil composition also play a role in shaping honey's taste. Each region's unique combination of flora and environmental conditions creates a distinctive flavor experience. (Source: Gruenewald, L., University of California Agriculture and Natural Resources)

C. Quality and Assurance:

Ensuring the quality and purity of honey is crucial. Various grading systems and certifications are in place to evaluate honey's quality and authenticity. These systems consider factors such as moisture content, color, flavor, and absence of contaminants. Understanding these quality indicators empowers consumers to make informed choices and supports the commitment to maintaining high standards in the honey industry. (Source: The Honey Association)

II. Old World Elegance: European Honey Varieties

A. Provence Lavender Honey:

Transport your taste buds to the lavender fields of Provence with the aromatic essence of Provence Lavender Honey. Bees collect nectar from lavender blossoms, infusing the honey with delicate floral notes and a subtle hint of lavender fragrance. This elegant honey is not only a culinary delight but also offers potential health benefits. Its unique flavor makes it a perfect addition to both sweet and savory dishes. (Source: National Honey Board)

B. Greek Thyme Honey:

Experience the robust and aromatic flavors of Greek Thyme Honey. Collected from bees that forage on thyme flowers in the Greek countryside, this honey carries a distinct herbal profile. The natural herbal notes of thyme blend harmoniously with the sweetness of the honey, creating a unique and delightful taste. Greek Thyme Honey is cherished for its culinary versatility and is often used in traditional Greek recipes and remedies. (Source: National Honey Board)

III. Exotic Delights: Treasures from Far-Off Lands

A. New Zealand's Manuka Honey:

Discover the extraordinary properties of New Zealand's Manuka Honey. Derived from the nectar of the native Manuka tree, this honey has gained global recognition for its unique flavor and potential health benefits. The Unique Manuka Factor (UMF) rating determines the honey's antibacterial potency, making it a highly sought-after and valuable variety. With its distinct flavor and therapeutic qualities, Manuka Honey is a true exotic delight. (Source: The Australian Manuka Honey Association)

B. Brazilian Rainforest Honey:

Indulge in the rich and tropical flavors of Brazilian Rainforest Honey, sourced from the vibrant ecosystems of the Amazon rainforest. This unique Unfiltered honey captures the essence of the diverse floral sources available to the bees in the rainforest. Harvested using sustainable practices, Brazilian Rainforest Honey supports conservation initiatives and the preservation of the Amazon's incredible biodiversity. By savoring this exotic honey, you are supporting both your taste buds and the environment. (Source: Provided by Brazilian Rainforest Honey Producers Association)

IV. Local Gems: Unveiling Honey Varieties in Your Region

A. Wildflower Honey:

Experience a medley of flavors with Wildflower Honey, which derives its unique taste from the diverse range of flowers visited by bees in your local region. The honey captures the essence of the local flora, resulting in a delightful and ever-changing flavor profile. From meadows to mountains, each region offers its own variation of Wildflower Honey, reflecting the local terroir and seasonal nuances. (Source: National Honey Board)

B. Orange Blossom Honey:

Delight your senses with the delicate and citrusy notes of Orange Blossom Honey. Bees collect nectar from fragrant orange blossoms, infusing the honey with a distinct floral and fruity aroma. The light and refreshing flavor of Orange Blossom Honey pairs perfectly with a variety of culinary creations. From drizzling it over pancakes to using it in salad dressings, this honey adds a touch of brightness to your dishes. (Source: National Honey Board)

V. Embracing Global Heritage: Celebrating Honey's Worldwide Influence

A. Honey Tasting Events and Festivals:

Immerse yourself in the cultural significance of honey by participating in global honey tasting events and festivals. These events celebrate honey's rich heritage and offer a unique opportunity to explore a wide array of honey varieties from around the world. From educational workshops to tasting sessions, these events provide an enriching experience that connects people through the appreciation of honey's diverse flavors. (Source: Provided by International Honey Tasting Association)

B. Sustainable Honey Production:

Support local beekeepers and sustainable honey production practices to contribute to the preservation of biodiversity and conservation efforts. By choosing honey that is produced using sustainable methods, you help protect the delicate balance of ecosystems and ensure the well-being of bees. Sustainable honey production is not only beneficial for the environment but also guarantees the availability of high-quality honey for future generations. (Source: Provided by Sustainable Honey Production Organization)

Summary:

Embarking on a global journey of flavors, we have explored the remarkable craftsmanship of bees and the influences that shape honey's taste. From the elegance of European honey varieties to the exotic delights of far-off lands, each region offers its own unique honey experience. Unveiling local gems and embracing honey's worldwide influence, we have discovered a diverse tapestry of flavors that captivate our palates. Let us celebrate the artistry of bees and savor the incredible flavors that nature bestows upon us through honey.

[bepearls]

Final words of AmazonMed

Overall, the Amazon is a diverse ecosystem that opens a plethora of opportunities to the medical world. According to a researcher who conducted a study in Jaú National park which is located in the Amazons, “A total of 120 plants and 29 animals were utilized in 519 recorded uses comprising 81 therapeutic purposes. These were grouped under 15 categories of use, including: gastrointestinal disturbances, inflammatory processes, genitourinary disturbances, fever, mishaps with animals, dermatological problems, pain, osteomuscular problems and tropical diseases”(Rodrigues 1). Considering that multiple plants and animals were found to cure a variety of illnesses in one area of the Amazon it is safe to say that the Amazon Rainforest contains hundreds of more natural remedies.Whether it is a plant, animal, or even how tribe members utilize a plant or animal, studying natural medicinal alternatives can open new holistic healthy opportunities. Although licking a Cane Toad or eating raw plants might seem uncivilized it is really no different than, for example, putting Aloe Vera on a burn wound. A good motto to keep in mind is, the modern way is not always the best way. Natural medications like Oregano Oil open up a new realm of treatment for the medical world. Oregano Oil can treat common bacterial infections like S. pyogenes without implicating harm to our bodies. Penicillin while it is an exceptional antibiotic that performs well against S. pyogenes, oil of Oregano is more potent. Although S. pyogenes was resistant to Manuka Honey there could still be more natural remedies available that are just as vigorous as Oregano Oil and could exceed modern antibiotics abilities. 

[ultra-maha-us]

Where To Find The Best Eco-Friendly Massage Products

Eco-friendly massage products are becoming an essential part of the massage industry. From the oils to the actual table that you are on while getting the massage, products are more green than ever.

Here are a few products that are used by massage therapists and are enjoyed by the person receiving the massage:

Scandle Candles LLC offers candles that also can be used as massage oil. The Mother Nature Network offers these candles that are very natural and bring warm light to the therapy room without putting pollutants into the air. These candles are chemical free and all natural and have neutral scents like honey and beeswax. The candles that melt to make massage oil are made from all natural, moisturizing soy.

Earthlite massage tables are manufactured by an environmentally conscious company and are made from farm raised wood instead of wood found in the rain forest. They are very high quality and have a lifetime warranty. Their motto is, to produce high quality products for the better of mankind. These tables are handmade in the Earthlite factories. The price is comparable to other massage tables of this quality. They are highly recommended by massage therapists.

Sweet Grass Farms offers portable massage gun laundry detergents, linen spray for the massage room and fabric softeners for the linens. All of these components are what a true eco-friendly masseuse would wash their laundry in and spray in their massage rooms. If you have natural products you do not want to launder them in a product that has a lot of chemicals. These products are all natural and are offered in lemon verbena and lavender.

Natura massage products are made from certified cotton, bamboo, hemp and other natural products. The bamboo bed sheets and bamboo spa wraps are environmentally friendly. This is also good news for the rainforest. Hemp and bamboo are two of the world's most renewable sources for wood and raw material for fabric.

Trade Key products offer a variety of massage creams, lotions and massage oils that are made of all natural ingredients. These are made from soy, milk and other natural ingredients. There are no preservatives or parabens in the products either, which few companies can promise.

It is important to remember that pregnant women should only have a massage with all natural ingredients like lavender, almond oil, lemon verbena, milk and various other products. Luckily, many spas offer a variety of natural products for pregnant women and eco-friendly consumers alike.

Natural products are very popular because they are healthier. With so many people suffering from allergies, it is best to avoid chemicals all together. If you are going to receive a massage or any service related to health, do yourself the favor and use products that are eco-friendly and chemical free.

The next time you are going in for a massage, rest, relax and enjoy but first ask for eco-friendly products so that you can enjoy your massage and so can Mother Earth.

[terrasenses]

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A post shared by ONOWOKA | Travel agency | NGO Ecuador (@onowoka_travel)

Getting the unique #wild #Honey, A mellow, brown, mustard opaque colour in the #Ecuadorian #Rainforest - Huaorani Territory.⠀ ⠀ buff.ly/2IfTII6⠀ ⠀ #terrasenses #instatravel #voyage #adventure #organic #raw #jungle #selva #bee #discover #nature #green #corpbio #bio #palms #hunting #latinamerica #sudamerica #oriente #huaorani #itt #yasuni #pny #nikon #nikonworld_ (à Yasuni National Park)

[cptnbvcks]

cold showers (mandalorian x reader)

summary: mando gets sex pollen-ed and you just so happen to be in the way of him and his cold shower. 

warnings: sex pollen! dub-con because of the sex pollen! 

a/n: this was quick and dirty i just needed to get this out there

By your count, it had been roughly forty-eight hours since you last saw the Mandalorian. 

It wasn’t your position to ask, and the hunter rarely told you much anyway. It was always the same commands: Stay here with the child. Don’t let him out of your sight. Keep him out of the cockpit or he’ll have you halfway to Sorgan before you can stop him. 

Your job was to take care of the child. Stay out of the Mandalorian’s business. 

You wouldn’t have minded his absence — he had been gone for longer bouts of time before — but there was something about the humid heat of this planet’s rainforests and the incessant croaking from the swamps that set you on edge. The heat was creeping into the ship and it was making both you and the child a little antsy. Your clothes stuck to your skin and the child fussed in his bundles of robes. 

“Don’t worry, kid. I’m sure your dad will be home soon,” you murmured gently as you closed the doors of the Razor Crest for the night, eyes scanning the dense, blue-shadowed forest entrance for any sign of glimmering beskar. The child chittered worriedly in your arms as its ears twitched low. 

You looked down at the little green baby and smiled slightly. Its eyes were shifting back and forth over the entrance of the forest too. Searching.

The child babbled lowly as the doors slid shut, casting its massive eyes up at you expectantly. He opened his mouth, his little teeth peeping out from under his lip, and yawned nice and big with a tiny coo as he smacked his mouth back together. You laughed quietly as he blinked tiredly at you, “C’mon, you little womp rat. Lets get you to bed.” 

You massaged the tip of his ear between your fingers as you walked back into the main chamber of the ship. 

It barely took any time at all between you setting him down in the little sleeping nook and turning out the main lights before the little guy had teetered backwards with a thump, closed those big ol’ bug eyes of his, and began snoozing.

“Thank the Maker there aren’t Jawas out here, huh, bud? I can’t imagine shooing those bastards away in this kind of heat.” You spoke to yourself as you dragged the back of your hand across your damp forehead. 

You were worried. You always spoke to yourself when you were worried. 

"Hope he’s okay, little guy,” you sighed under your breath as you pulled a thin cover over the child, leaning down to press a brief kiss to his forehead before pulling down the sheet metal that would keep him from waking up and wandering around. 

Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck and you were more than grateful that the kid almost always slept through the entire night. It meant that you could take all the time you needed in the ship’s shower. 

— 

The water was icy cold and poured gently from the rusty overhead spray. For once, you didn’t complain. The space was cramped and you wondered how the Mandalorian even fit. Surely his head bumped the faucet and his arms knocked over the few toiletries he had. 

You smiled to yourself at the thought. He was always so serious to you that you couldn’t help but wonder sometimes if he even liked you at all, or if he simply tolerated the additional body because he couldn’t keep dragging the child into life threatening situations. 

Sighing, you pressed your forehead against the metal wall as the water dribbled coldly over your back and shoulders. Your eyes slipped shut as your thoughts returned to the Mandalorian. Out there, in the heat. The dark. You hoped he was okay. Partly because you didn’t know what the hell you’d do if he wasn’t. 

Partly for other reasons that you refused to acknowledge because of professional reasons.

Still, the thoughts came, intruding and incessant, as they always were when two people spent too much time alone in space together. You dragged a hand through your hair and thought of Mando’s. Was his hair brown? You imagined so. Brown hair to match the dusky sound of his voice. Dark eyes too, to match his hair. 

Your hand slipped over your neck and you thought of his skin. You knew it was tanned; honey gold and firm with lean muscles. He had come in once with his under-shirt ripped half to hell and you had to restrain the baby as he cauterized his own wounds, despite your offer to help. 

You never wanted to admit it, but you had thought of that little patch of bronzed skin for about two weeks straight. 

Your hand moved lower and you thought of his hands. He had grabbed your wrist once after you touched his shoulder to check if he was sleeping at the wheel. The force of it had left a faint bruise, and if the Mandalorian had ever noticed it, he never brought it up.

A small moan echoed in the tinny shower chamber at the thought of those hands leaving marks somewhere else. 

Your little daydream was abruptly cut short by the sound of the the ship’s buzzing fluorescents going dead silent. Your eyes shot open but you swore you were still lost in the darkness behind your eyes.

“Fuck,” you cursed low, panic rising suddenly as the creeping disorientation set in. You dragged your hand over the wet stall, knocking aside the Mandalorian’s facial blades in the process. 

You reached for where you thought the hatch to the shower chamber was. 

Something grabbed your hand. 

Panic shot through you; raw and piercing as you screamed loud. The hand that clamped down over your mouth and pushed you back into the shower chamber was bare, dry and rough and big enough that its fingers touched your jaw from edge-to-edge. The hand smelled like blaster residue and leather. 

The body pressed into yours and by the maker, they were burning up. Your survival instincts kicked into hyperdrive as you blindly shoved one-handedly at whoever was in the stall with you. Their chest was bare and your hand smacked wetly against it as you shoved at the person’s shoulders. 

“Stop that,” the voice huffed tightly; heavy and familiar and unmodulated — your breath caught in your throat and your struggles halted, “It’s— It’s me. Just me.” 

The Mandalorian. A very naked Mandalorian. 

This had to be a dream. 

Maybe a heat-stroke illusion. 

Your cheeks flared red and you were grateful for the drowning blackness because you thought you might implode if you actually had visual confirmation of what was happening right now. 

You whimpered his name against the palm of his hand, your eyes searching the darkness in front of you for any indication of a face. 

You had never felt so much of him before. Not skin-wise. Not even contact-wise. What was going on? Where had this come from all of a sudden?

He lowered his palm from your mouth before silencing whatever question or rejection that you might have voiced by pressing a hard kiss to your lips. You didn’t know if your eyes were open or closed but you swore you saw stars when he dragged his tongue over the roof of your mouth. 

Maker, he tasted exactly as you had imagined.

“‘m sorry, it’s just— I don’t...” he grunted against your mouth, his words jagged and slurred as his hand dragged down the curve of your throat, squeezing there for a moment before sinking down to the trembling curve of your damp breasts. He squeezed hard, unrestrained and nearly unhinged as he pinched the wet peak of your taut nipple. It fucking hurt.  “Just... fuck—, need you— need this—”

He wasn’t making much sense but you couldn’t exactly ask for clarification when he made his point by shoving his hand between the wet flesh of your thighs. 

Something about this feels off. 

Something about the slur of his voice and the radiating heat that’s surrounding him. The hunter barely ever looked in your direction, rarely even spoke more than he needed to — hell, sometimes you wondered if he even remembered your name — and now here he was, cornering you naked in the shower, sans-helmet and hard as the beskar steel he wore.

Something was wrong.

“M-mando, wait—! Maker, what’s going on?” 

Your head falls back against the chamber wall and the ragged gasp that interrupts when he circles your aching clit with the rough pad of his finger is almost unbecoming of a lady. 

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you get wet for him. Even more so when he buries his fingers to the knuckle within your walls and you cry out like you’ve never been touched by a man before. You’re hot and wet on his fingers as he thrusts them deeper, curling them hard against your clenching cunt until every logical thought turns into gibberish in your head. 

“I just... please, fuck—, stop talking.”  

You comply, but only because he locks his mouth over your breast and rubs his thumb over your swollen clit and you swear to every god in the galaxy whatever’s possessing the Mandalorian is rubbing off on you. 

Your thighs shake hard as he wraps his arm around your waist, forcing you up onto your toes in an attempt to match his height. His cock is trapped between your bodies, hard and thick and your cheeks blush dark as he shifts his hips against you, all but fucking himself against your stomach. It’s vulgar, maybe a little demeaning, but the heat that’s pooling against the Mandalorian’s fingers tells a different story.

“You’re so... tight,” He growls, shoving you harder into the chamber wall, “How are you so tight? I can’t— fuck, can’t wait—” He trails off as you card your fingers into his hair. You feel him shudder against you as he bites down on your flesh hard enough that you pull at his hair in protest. 

He moans against you; low and deep in his chest as he rolls your nipple over his tongue. His entire mouth is hot; fever hot.

All you have is your sense of touch but something about the way he shoves his fingers into you just a little harder and sucks a fresh bruise into your collarbone when you drag your nails against his scalp tells you that you’re testing the fine line of his restraint. 

You know the Mandalorian would never hurt you. He’d never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. But something tells you that if you push him tonight, you’ll be regretting it by morning.

“Turn around,” he orders and you hear the slurred strain of his voice. It almost sounds like he’s wounded but you can’t tell if he’s bleeding with the way the water’s flowing against your bodies. His cock pulses against your stomach as he drags his fingers from your heat, drawing your slickness over your clit until his fingers glide easily over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You take too long to do as you’re told. 

He’s pushing you out of his arms again, his grip bruising as he grabs your hips and flips you towards the wall. The movement of it in such tiny quarters knocks more things from the small shelves of the shower. Your hands fly up to cushion your fall as he shoves you up against the biting steel. The metal is freezing on your breasts, icy compared to the warmth of your hunter’s mouth, and your nipples harden painfully upon contact.

You yelp with surprise as he brings a hand down over your ass. His palm lands slightly awkwardly and it hurts more than you think he intended, “Ow! Fuck, Mando, not so hard—!” 

He hears you, but you don’t think he hears you, because he does it again. Your body jolts and it stings even worse because of the water. This time, he gropes at the plump curve of your backside with one rough palm while the other roams over the exposed flesh of your back that he can hardly see in the darkness. 

There’s so much of you. So much. His thoughts are foggy, sluggish and pinwheeling solely to the body trembling before him in the dark and all the things he wants to do to it. To you. 

He doesn’t realize he’s saying half of these things out loud, brokenly and stuttering on his tongue. They’re filthy and they make you blush all the way down to your breasts.

He knows something’s wrong. Knows he shouldn’t. But when he takes his cock into his hand and drags the bulbous head over your soaked entrance, the Mandalorian realizes that he doesn’t care bout the morality of it. There’s only you. Soaking wet and blushed pink for him. 

You gasp wordlessly, stunned to silence, as he circles your hips with his battle-hardened grip and buries himself deep into your body with a single decisive thrust. Your cry of pleasure comes late, catching on your exhale as your walls flutter tight around him. 

A random shiver crawls down your spine that makes your walls grip him even tighter. Your broken whimper echoes in the shower chamber as you slap a hand weakly against the wall beside your head, your body struggling to acclimatize to the stretch of him. 

“Fu-uck, Mando,” You choke out out, “Fuck.” 

He lets out a shuddered breath behind you and you realize he hasn’t moved an inch yet. Instead, he presses you flat between the wall and his body and grinds into you. Hits you in a place so deep that you swear to the galaxy’s edge that you can feel the ridge of his cock’s head inside of your walls with distinct clarity. Your toes curl and a muscle begins to knot itself in your thigh from the strain of being on your tip toes.

The noise that leaves you is fucking primal.  

He drops his head against the back of your shoulder and lets out a sharp breath, “Good— you feel so good. So soft, everywhere. Everywhere.” 

He begins to move. There’s nothing slow or deliberate about it. It’s messy, the way he fucks into you like he’s halfway forgotten that you’re a person and not a rag doll. 

His hands grab handfuls of your curves, dips between your thighs just to feel the obscene way your pussy stretches around his cock. His mouth is sucking purple bruises over your shoulder blades, ones you won’t even notice once the lights come back on. You smell like his soaps and taste of the distilled water of the shower. He runs his tongue over your flesh and bites down. 

He knows he’s being too rough; knows you’re biting down the pain when he digs his fingers into your breasts and drags your back flush against his chest. You’re wincing slightly when he hits you too deep but you’re sobbing for him when he sinks his fingers between your legs and begins working your clit beneath a rough finger.

You’re making the most beautiful sounds while you’re taking him and when he  wraps his hand around the delicate curve of your throat and pins your head back against his chest, you reach up and grab his arm with urgency, nails biting into the exposed skin of him. Your pussy clamps down hard around his girth and he pushes against the resistance until he’s as deep as your body would allow him. 

It’s so dark and you’re lost in it and all you know is him and the earth shattering pleasure when his fingers press down on your clit. You’re coming and you think you’re screaming but you only know for sure when he squeezes your neck hard enough that the sound catches in your voice box. 

You cling to him as your walls pulse around his cock. You only realize he had cum too when you feel the liquid fullness of it as he continued to fuck himself into your spent body. 

Well.

Now you’re a little concerned for your pussy’s wellbeing.

— 

You wake up the next morning disoriented. The ship is bright and you can hear the birds outside loud and clear. A warm humid breeze blows in and it carries the babble of the baby. 

The baby!

You jolt upright and almost knock yourself out on the utility compartment above the spare cot. 

“Easy. I’ve got him.” The voice comes from the ramp of the ship, crackling gently through the modulator of a shiny beskar helmet. He’s standing at the open entrance, dressed in his armours with the little green child bundled in his arms. You notice the fresh scuff marks on his cuirass, tokens from whatever battle had brought him to this jungle planet for so long. 

Your chest catches with a sudden sharp inhale as the knowledge of the night before hung heavily in the air between you.

For a moment, you don’t know what to say. You wonder if to say anything at all. 

It wasn’t like you could both ignore the fact that he had fucked you from sundown to sunrise in every spot you could fathom on the ship. You certainly couldn’t ignore the fact that you could still feel the remnants of him between your thighs. 

“I understand if you want to leave.” 

The Mandalorian’s abrupt words catch you off guard, but it’s what he said that stuns you to silence. 

“What we did— What I did, I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t have done that to you,” the Mandalorian was stumbling on his words but the shame that hung in the air between them felt like a punch to the gut, “I was tracking a mercenary in the marshland. She tagged me with something. Some kind of amatory agent.”

It was both hazy and vivid in his mind — putting the quarry in the carbonite chamber, shutting down the lights because he thought you had already retired with the child and to avoid the risk of you finding him without his helmet in his disoriented state, then stumbling out of his armour and into the shower to quell the burning heat that had crept over his body and blurred his mind to one physical singularity.

He remembered finding you in the shower chamber. Naked. Wet. 

And he remembered every single thing he did to you afterwards. 

“I’m truly sorry,” he said softly, and you knew that he fully meant it. You tried to ignore the growing pang of dejection that settled sourly in your stomach. The Mandalorian averted his gaze then as the child peered between you and his somewhat-father, gurgling contently. The hunter turned towards the cockpit hatch. “I’ll set the co-ordinates back to take you back to Nevarro.” 

“... Do you want me to leave?” 

Your words made him pause. The sound of hurt in your voice made his heart ache at the wonder of what he might have broken between you. His breaths echoed in soft static through the helmet as he stood silently.

“No. I don’t.” 

You slipped out of the bunk despite the protest of your thighs. The Mandalorian felt his heart jump in his throat at the sound of your bare feet padding over and for a moment he wondered if he had truly worked all of that poison out of his system. He didn’t fight as the child lifted his arms for you to take him.

You itched the back of the baby’s head and he exclaimed happily. The Mandalorian was looking at you now, just the slightest tilt of his helmet to indicate as much. You looked up at him from beneath your lashes, sugar sweet and endlessly forgiving, as you kissed the child’s head.  

“Then I won’t,” you said softly, jokingly lifting the child slightly, “For his sake.” 

— 

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[midgaarb]

• New Moon with the Elders • I welcomed in the September New Moon with two sister witches under a mighty grove of Elders. These Elders overlook a forest scorched by wildfires from last summer, some of the forest logged by loggers, and a looming ploom of smoke was seen in the distance from our active burning fires to the East. These sacred trees swaying in the wind, standing above these beautiful yet damaged lands was a vision that signified their healing nourishment. It struck as a powerful indicator of their medicine ~ Elderberry clusters hang down in the shape of the lungs ~ displaying her affinity for the respiratory & immune systems. We had to climb through brambles upon brambles, fallen trees & tall grasses to reach the berries. Gently bending the branch as one of us clipped a bunch off, blood was shed & skirts were torn as offerings to Elder in the process. It’s a full body commitment, a privilege to be able to harvest her, a ritual we completed by cleansing in the river below. Our native PNW Elder is Blue Elderberry & her myth is associated with the depths of the Underworld. She’s linked to Yule with her Wise medicinal properties supporting us through harsh winter, and her dark berries & mystical fierce energy speaks to the tale of the Wild Hunt. These delicious beauties above will be used to create my offering “Blood of the Wild Hunt” a medicinal syrup to support our respiratory & immune systems. It’s my version of Elderberry syrup with dark Earthy flavors ~ a brew dedicated to the gods & spirits of Midtvinter; helping us summon the strength & power conjured by The Wild Hunt. What makes my brew an extra powerful bio-regional Elderberry syrup is she’s also crafted with various offerings from our forests & she’s made as an Oxymel; combining the immune supporting qualities of raw Apple Cider Vinegar with Raw honey, medicinal mushrooms Red Belted Polypore & Reishi I harvest in our rainforest, vitamin rich Blue Spruce tips I harvest in spring & anti-inflammatory, immuno-modulating & anti-viral Usnea combined with Black Peppercorn & various seasonal spices. It’s incredibly delicious & deeply supportive during the dark days. I will be restocking her soon! (at Oregon) https://www.instagram.com/p/CTfXf8QpVRW/?utm_medium=tumblr

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[mikrowrites]

numb

Poe Dameron x Reader

TROS SPOILERS!!!!!!

The final battle against the Final Order is here, and Y/N Dameron for the first time realizes how numb she is.

Warnings: mention of major character death, adult situations, war, crash, angst, a decent amount of fluff, mostly really sad

Y/N rubbed at her eyes, red rimmed and raw from her tears. She walked aimlessly along the dirt paths of the rainforest that housed the Resistance, desperately fighting off memories flooding her head.

Leia was gone.

Y/N was not a Solo, or a Skywalker for that matter, but a young girl who needed a mother. Perhaps, in a coping matter, Leia found Y/N to try and heal the hole left from her son. They became close, the woman taking her in and training her in the Resistance to be a pilot even rival to Poe Dameron.

Oh, and Poe Dameron the hotshot pilot. The hotshot pilot she married little more than a year ago. Y/N fiddled with the cold silver chair around her neck, the ring resting against her chest.

The Resistance would move out at dawn, going to fight Palpatine and the Final Order, and Y/N felt... nothing. Fear, excitement, anger, determination... nothing crossed her conscience. She continued her trek as she reached her assigned X-Wing. Her dear one had been destroyed on the Raddus, but this one was a sight for sore eyes.

Y/N ran her fingers along the ship, ducking under the wings and circling around it. There was something comforting to her, flying. The rush and adrenaline of the fight, the hum of her ship’s engine. Y/N found such a euphoria in it, like a drunk recounting his joys.

“Y/N?”

The girl turned to see her husband emerge from the greenery, stopping feet away from her. Poe looked as hurting as she was, his raspy voice still laced with grief. “Hey.”

“Tomorrow. You... you doing okay?” Poe questioned, his hands retreating into his pockets.

Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile, leaning against the X-Wing. “It’s a funny thing... I don’t know.” Poe looked at her in confusion, his head tipping ever so slightly as his eyebrows furrowed. Y/N elaborated. “Ever since we’ve come back from the mission, ever since we heard that—I don’t know, I just... I feel... numb.”

Poe finally began to step forward, taking her arms in his. “I get it. It’s a lot.”

Y/N nodded. “Now what we’re doing in just a few hours... it doesn’t even seem real. That this is it.”

“Y/N, we’re going to win.” Poe insisted, pulling her away from the ship and wrapping her in a tight embrace, the two pilots ever so slightly swaying as they held each other. Poe rested his stubbly chin on Y/N’s head. “We’re gonna win. And then, we’ll buy a house. A nice, small one. We’ll have a proper ceremony, go on a nice honeymoon, help the reconstruction. Maybe a couple kids. We’ll be happy. You’ll see.”

Y/N nodded into his chest, closing her eyes. She let the sound of Poe’s breath, the sounds of the forest, and the clatter of Resistance members rising from sleep carry her.

“I love you so damn much, Y/N.” Poe breathed, fear flooding his mind.

“I love you Poe. Always.” Y/N murmured.

The two pulled slightly away, Poe lightly grasping Y/N’s chin with his calloused fingers, guiding her mouth to his as they deepened into a kiss, Y/N wrapping her arm around Poe’s shoulder as she ran her fingers through his curly hair. They kissed like they never had before, neither one wanting to even consider the fact it could be a goodbye.

When their lips finally parted, Y/N rested her forehead on Poe’s. They endulged in each other’s bliss, a true smile finally creeping on Y/N’s face. She looked up at Poe, wrapping her wrists around his neck.

“We’re gonna win.”

——————

When the electricity from Palpatine hit Y/N’s X-Wing, she let out a yell. Her screens became scrambled, the ignition cutting out and the ship falling from the sky.

Y/N calmly began flipping switches, pressing at buttons because her ship had fallen out of the sky numerous times before and everything had been fine, right?

“Shit...” Y/N cursed under her breath, her body stilling when she realized that she couldn’t do anything. Her ship was plummeting and all Y/N could do was sit back and wait for the impact. Her breathing began to quicken.

The coms in her helmet were static, oh Lord, did Y/N want nothing more than to hear Poe’s voice. She began panickingly pushing the thrusters, igniting the hyperdrive, crying out as she wanted to do anything, anything to live. Tears began to run down her cheeks, the ground coming closer and closer.

But the closer the terrain came, the more empty Y/N felt. The more her fear and distraught faded away. She was numb.

And perhaps that was the best thing for her to be.

Seconds before her ship hit the ground, her comm burst to life.

“Y/N? Do you hear me? Y/N? Honey?”

And in her numb state, Y/N allowed a smile to cross her face as the shrieking of metal cut through Poe’s sweet voice.

The X-Wing was crushed into the ground, flames licking the ship.

Y/N’s head jerked forwards, a scream erupting from her mouth as the ship skidded, coming to a halt. She had never felt such unimaginable pain in her entire life. Everything hurt, and Y/N couldn’t help the raw screams bursting from her throat.

After a couple minutes the pain seemed to numb, Y/N staring through the cracked glass in her cockpit. Flames and smoke obscured her view, Y/N beginning to close her eyes.

Suddenly a hand reached out, grasping her uniform, tearing off her helmet. Y/N felt herself pulled from her cockpit, her eyes refusing to open but more cries escaping her lips as pain once again shot through her body.

Y/N took wheezing breaths, her ears ringing and the world sounding like it was underwater. Someone was saying something fast, pulling at her jumpsuit and seemingly looking at injuries.

Finally Y/N eased her eyes open, the world blurry and unfocused. A figure she couldn’t make out was kneeled over her, still saying unintelligible things and holding her. Y/N narrowed her eyes, her sight slowly coming back for a moment before everything went black.

A face. A man. Who she had rivaled, reconciled, married, fallen in love with. Tears cascaded down his face, fear surging and evident in his face. Y/N murmured Poe’s name before everything faded away.

——————

Y/N let out a dry gasp, her eyes flicking open as she was suddenly pulled back to consciousness. She took several ragged gasps, looking around.

She was in a sterile room, mostly white. It was simple, consisting of the bed she laid in, a window with white curtains, several cabinets, and lots of bacta equipment. It didn’t take a genius to see she was in some kind of hospital.

Y/N slowly sat up, removing her blanket and throwing her legs over to the side of the bed. She shakily stood, using the bed for support and stumbled to the window, gripping the ledge.

The glass was pushed open, revealing a shining city scape. Resistance banners hanging on every building flapped in the breeze, a smile crossing Y/N’s face. She could hear the distant music and see people celebrating, dancing in the streets. They had won.

Suddenly there was a crash behind her. Y/N supported herself on the window ledge, turning around.

Poe stood in the doorway, transfixed upon Y/N. Water, some kind of green-blue glass, and alien flowers littered the floor in front of him.

The two stood, looking at each other, as Y/N gave him a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He breathlessly responded, still frozen. “You—um—the uh... the doctors said that you might not wake up.”

Y/N huffed out a breath, feeling tears threatening to escape the corners of her eyes. “You won?”

Poe finally smiled, deflating as if a hundred bricks had been removed from his shoulders. “Yeah. We did.”

The man couldn’t help himself, walking over the mess on the floor and rushing to Y/N, pulling her into his arms. Y/N felt his body shaking, her shoulder becoming wet.

“I thought you were dead. I heard your screams through the comms, I pulled you out of the ship and Y/N... you were so hurt. You looked bad. You were in so much pain and I—“ Poe choked up for a minute, recomposing himself. “You were out for two weeks. They said they did everything they could, and you... you might not... I thought I lost you.”

“Never.” Y/N responded. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

The two held each other like they had weeks before, when war was raging and Y/N was numbed to everything around her.

Except now she wasn’t.

Y/N Dameron was so full of love.

[heli0s-writes]

On the Shoulders of Giants*

Summary: The world is a heavy burden to carry.

A/N: Stucky x Reader. 1.6k words. Smut.

It begins in the desert, perhaps. Under the sweltering Sahara glare flaying the very skin from your back. Between fine grains of sand—sharp with windstorm.

On the ridged mouth of a shared canteen, taking turns prudently lapping the only water left for the next several days. Two concerned glances at your chafed-red brow and hushed whispers when you trudge ahead.

Is it too soon?

Maybe in Antigua—that hotel where the three of you shared a room with the greenery outside peeking in. Soft and pale gauze curtains fluttering in the breeze. The humid air wafting over necks and exposed shoulders.

Maybe it begins with stolen glances when Bucky sits by the window with a book, splendorous in sunlight. Different than the desert. Delicate. Steve laying an ice pack on your shoulder, settling longer than he should. Jerking your attention from the window with his tongue, lashing admonishment to conceal the worry.

Last night was too close. Again.

Or, maybe in a place more ordinary. The front lawn on a muted and moonless night with your terrors simmering in your mouth. The compound’s lights glaring so starkly it chases even the North Star away.

Nothing but a breeze and a memory. A coincidentally timed breath from three sets of lungs and the scent of an onerous exhale, wet with wine and confession. Conversation nicked off with a palm faced forward at you, a scolding from his familiar deep voice, dispelling the stifling miasma of shame and self-sacrifice and duty.

On the point of their incisors cleaving into your melancholy.

At the start of Steve’s silence and the last echo of Bucky’s heavy heart when he suggests, “Put the world down, honey.”

Two pairs of blue, one soldered steel, the other glimmering green, following your irate footfalls across the yard and back into the confines of the facility.

They turn to each other under the ink, and maybe it begins there.

-

A press of lips to lips. Chest to chest. Steve takes the lead in Minsk with his toes pointed at yours, head ducking down with necessary patience, asking. Mouth open, only minutes ago holding back a curse, now still. Sweet.

The three of you slick with blood and sweat, hearts like war-drums pulsing adrenaline in the back of the Quinjet. Throats raw and hoarse from screaming at each other in a demolished building.

For an instant, you’re dizzy, and it feels like a mistake.

Then Bucky anchors you back to earth while the frigid world continues howling outside.

The mission could be categorized as a success. Objectives were met, enemies were neutralized, hostages were rescued, and the write up will outline perfectly the night when the three of you tore through a Hydra cell and left nothing but the burning shambles of its structure—a crumbling skeleton laid bare in the snow.

Yet, the stain of a single extinguished life was all you saw inside. A boy. Sixteen, at most-- taking his final breath in a capsule. And Bucky had screamed there was nothing you could do over the gunfire. The boy had been dying for days, maybe. Weeks. Months.

But you were lost in the gaunt concave flesh of his cheeks and the parting of his dry lips.

Lost in the way his face resembled your own face when they found you after the kidnapping. Lost following the puckered trail of holes in his wrists and neck— injections. Experimentation. Torture.

So lost that when the bullet ripped into your leg you hardly felt it.

“Put the fucking world down?”

In the cabin of the jet, it grows livid with venom until it splatters onto the tip of Bucky’s boot. Steve, true to form, steps in, advances until your heel finds the wall.

Small and eclipsed by his mass, you still snarl and pound your fists on his chest, wrath only incurred further by his quiet. Incurred by his dismissals. By his willful ignorance of how you fucking feel.

“How? How can I when that—” Sharp thrusting motion of your arm, flexing like a wire about to snap. “When that is still out there? Or did you forget?”

To the right, a pair of shoulders sink with a sigh, heavy from the night’s pitiless gravity.

Bucky returns to your attention with his earnest eyes searching your face and his sincere mouth calling your name softly. Always too eager to settle the argument with his calm—too eager to be the martyr between tempers. Silent while the flames lick him charred.

“We haven’t.”

Blue meets red and the fury dissipates as Steve’s hand grazes your cheek. Well-worn gloves brush a strand of wayward hair from your temple, warm leather tips trailing down to your chin. He blurs when the wrath in your nose thaws into anguish.

“You want to carry that weight.”

“But you can’t.”

The guilt comes and chews holes inside your belly.

Bucky touches the wound on your thigh, poorly patched with uneven gauze carelessly wrapped. “Not all the time. Not everybody. Not without losing yourself.”

Of course they haven’t forgotten. They stayed by your bedside for weeks, after all. Worked you back to health. Cared for you. Carved out space in their hearts for your return home.

A twitch of your mouth that they track with their eyes. A reddening of your nose they lament. Steve’s thumb flattens the first beaded droplet against your jaw. Wicks the rest away behind your shoulder. His words vibrate through your body, sinks right into your bones.

“Can’t lose you.” Regret. “Not you.” Grief. “Not again.” Heartbreak.

He’s the mouthpiece for both, speaking the truth they’ve hidden. Mission after mission, growing affection for someone too much like themselves. Except fragile in all the ways they aren’t. Only human and only woman. Mortality lives in the forefront of his mind. Loss and fear rear their heads to remind him of the month you spent captive.

Every time you lean too far into a fight, Bucky’s eyes are on him, frantic.

Golden hair falls forward as Steve bends, lifting your chin until you meet his gaze.

Bucky watches too, echoing like a disciple. “Won’t lose you. Not ever again.”

And your world freezes, stuck in the arctic tundra of Steve’s measured observation until Bucky’s hand finds your back, easing you forward, melting time back into motion.

-

Back home, pressed between them, your heart picks up a beat too frenetic. Gloved hands find the buckles and zips of your suit— makes quick work of them. A shift and a groan and Steve’s just as exposed, all warm and hard, dragging you to the floor. Bucky behind, hand knotted in your hair, tugging your neck revealed, pulling a gasp open before he smothers it shut.

The flight left three mouths hungry and kiss bruised. Autopilot steered a course through the clouds pierced with starshine and landed while you remained entwined in them, taking turn finding lips and stealing breaths. Needing more.

You’ve thought about it, many times, safely inside the borders of your imagination. Always looked away before someone noticed. Over the years. Over sand dunes. Inside rainforests. The Sahara. Antigua. Kowloon and Key West. All coordinates in-between.

Envisioned the rough calloused pads of their hands contrasting soft and warm lips. How they might hold you—perhaps like that night. Bucky’s arms beneath your trembling body, pulling you into his lap. Steve knelt over, breath fanning warmth over your face. The fragile sob that left when you heard them.

We’re here. We’ve got you.

Envisioned how they might mirror each other. Two souls entwined over the century like twin flames, flickering bright but blue, come to burn you in ecstasy. Come again to save you from agony.

 They shimmer like heat waves now. Like the way light refracts in water. Or like the way your eyes unfocus during the high of a blistering release. Imagination could never do them justice. Your own hands never could never blaze so hot.

“Come here.”

It rages desperate in the darkness of Steve’s room. You chase it with two at your heels, scrambling for purchase, freeing adoration entombed for months or years—you don’t know. Unsure now where you even exist when all you can feel are their hands and lips.

Monoliths. Saviors. Gods.

Like a fever, stretching your very cells apart and twisting you around in devastating fire. Frenzied arrangements of limbs until the puzzle fits—too eager to even make it to the bed. Steve’s tongue in your mouth, drowning whimpers. Bucky gripping your throat, sucking reminders of them on your chest. Someone’s hand between your thighs, palm slick. Rubbing ardent patterns on swollen flesh until they both plunge.

A hovering touch over the bandaged wound, barely-there flutters of fingertips to the bruised skin around. Hardly registering when your entire body feels shattered to bits by them.

“Don’t do it again.”

It sounds like punishment. For arguing. For endangering yourself.

“Can’t take it, honey.”

It sounds like love. Desperate to be known and suffered.

It spreads all over. Chains your soul to its magnitude and sinks its teeth in deep. Fills up your entire being until it pours out in a weeping litany of their names. Between Steve and Bucky, you sob, quivering and encased in their arms. Like that moonless night.

We’re here.

It sounds like devotion. Lifted. Exalted.

And lift you, they do. Send your soul flying. Take you up into the sky and let you reach the clouds and the heavens with a single resonant cry. Gasps and stutters following a flood of exhales running over your bare back. Behind your eyes is the rush of the milky way, a million and one lights splintering your breath.

When your body drops, the stars fade. Above, darkness returns viscous with memory. Bucky brands a kiss to your nape, bruises it tender like your insides. Murmurs a plead into your shoulder.

“Put the world down, lover.”

Steve moves a damp strand behind your ear, finger trailing over your lips, tucking affection inside your cheek.

Together now. Melted by it until three blends into one.

We’ll hold it up for you. We’ve got you now.

-

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya @geeksareunique @wildefire​ @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523​

[m42-fr]

Some FR Food Headcanons

Inspired by a thread on FR, I may or may not have accidentally written up a massive column of text on the various foods of Sorneith. I’m gonna copy-paste it here! Also gonna reblog with some headcanons from other users on that thread, so I can keep track of the ones that I really liked.

Lightning: In a more modern world, I'm absolutely certain somebody's invented the equivalent of Soylent (the meal replacement, not people). A quick, efficient meal that you can live your entire life off of, liquid and flavorless. Most people try to get some real food in whenever possible, but a particular strand of dragons absolutely swear by the stuff and spend their entire lives subsisting on it. Lightning cuisine also has a wide array of shelled creatures, including crustaceans, beetles, and armadillos. Many traditional dishes use the hollowed-out shells of these animals as bowls, while others utilize the bowl as an edible element. Dragon jaws are strong, and many texture-based eaters love the feeling of the shell cracking between their teeth.

Fire: Firstly, as a spice lover, I 100% support the notion of Fire having super spicy food. Secondly, it should be worth noting that I personally headcanon a large chunk of Fire's territory being covered in humid tropical rainforests, nourished by the rich volcanic runoff and the moist sea winds blowing in from both sides. Climates are basically as far from realistic as you can get in this game, so really, anything goes. With that in mind, I personally headcanon a lot of Fire's cuisine to be like Indian food, especially the advent of curry and the usage of an insane amount of spices. Having such fertile farmlands lends itself well to the growth of all sorts of exotic spices, and even if you don't personally share my headcanons, it's easy to say that since it borders Wind, it could ship in spices from there. Also, Fire residents absolutely boil their coffee like this. No exceptions. Which brings me to Wind. If Fire is India, then Wind is China and/or Japan. Seriously, having that sort of aesthetic already, it's very easy to say that their food might be like that as well! I think they 100% have rice, and they might have a wide variety of spices as well - if Fire grows their own spices, then the two Flights likely trade their spices very often with one another. The Wind flight is artistic, creative, and adventurous, and their food is no exception. Wind has one of the greatest amounts of imported food, and it's well-known that they have some of the best and most well-traveled chefs. Wind, having a border on two large oceans, also likes to make sushi, seaweed wraps, and other seafood-based items. There's an interesting cuisine difference between the coasts and the mainland - the coasts tend to rely less on spices and more on meats and rice, while the inland likes to pack their food with spice, and loves to utilize doughy recipes like dumplings and noodles. Arcane food is very sugary. Faes have a special sweet tooth and a hankering for honey in particular. Arcane food is also very showy - the more colorful, the better! Many professionally-made dishes will even utilize inedible elements, such as crystal chunks and gold flakes, to really make a dessert pop. Arcane is also the home of food-based magic. Instead of potions, crafters will cover cupcakes in frosting runes, and mix magically-infused powder into their dough. While lacking the long-term storage potential of a bottled elixir, there's no arguing that magical confectioneries are significantly tastier. Their most popular use is in the realm of light pick-me-ups and mild painkillers. Why take a pill for your headache when you can just eat a magic cookie instead? Shadow food focuses heavily on texture over appearance. In the dark, the way food looks doesn't matter much - it's how it feels in the mouth that counts. Unsurprisingly, many of its dishes utilize mushrooms as a primary ingredient, and slow-roasting is a popular way to bring a dish to perfection. Shadow also absolutely loves puddings, and one of its most famous dishes is a dark, sludgy, tarlike stuff laced with dark chocolate and mint. Very filling, and so sugary that getting all of it down without making yourself sick is a challenge. Earth food is plain, but hearty. Tubers are the most common type of food; potatoes, carrots, leeks, onions, and other ground-growing plants are common. There are few traditional meat dishes, as meat is exceedingly rare. Earth food lacks many spices, but has an abundance of one critical substance: salt. The territory is home to massive salt flats that can be mined for their salt, and this alone makes up the backbone of its trading economy. Earth flighters love their salt - there's essentially no dish in their repertoire that doesn't use it to some capacity. Plague cuisine tends to favor strong, meaty flavors. They like their meat juicy, bleeding, and fresh. Given the land's propensity towards hunting parties and scavenger behavior, dishes tend to be local. Cooking is quite widespread, though. Most notably: stews. Plague dragons almost invariably boil their water before they drink it to rid it of potential diseases, and eventually somebody got the bright idea to drop some bits of food in the water as it heated. Plague is adaptive and will use whatever foods they find in their stews, so again, recipes are local, but a wide variety of meats are the most common. Bordering Wind, Plague also imports a very high amount of spices. Their region lacks the widespread farming arrays that would enable it to make spices on a large scale, and many from the flight love the extra kick spices give to their food. Ice food is hearty, with a solid serving of both meats and vegetables, sourced locally. Their distance from the rest of the world means that their food has remained the most traditional and locally-sourced of Flight cuisine, virtually unchanged for hundreds - if not thousands - of years. Most dishes use some sort of meat, typically deer, caribou, or rabbit. With a large population of Tundras, they also grow all manner of vegetables. Many in the Ice flight like to make use of all parts of a carcass, not just the meat. Tools, including utensils, are carved from bones. Hides are used as clothing and shelter. Organs may also be eaten - most of Ice's more 'out there' dishes involve some sort of strange organ, like a deer stomach that's been cleaned out and filled with a variety of seasonal fruits and vegetables. Nature food is also filled with both meat and plants, though has a much higher percentage of fruit-based dishes. Many foods utilize some sort of complimentary fruit, either as a side or as additional flavoring to the primary ingredient. As most inhabitants are the voraciously meat-consuming Wildclaws, their dishes tend to have a high amount of meat, and are cooked and flavored accordingly. Nature dragons like to slow-roast their food, cooking it until the meat's tender enough to rip apart with a fork and practically falls apart in your mouth. I like to think that Nature also is a big fan of sour and savory flavors - many of their dishes utilize things like lemons, limes, and pineapples. Light food isn't the tastiest, but it sure is the flashiest. Of the Flights, Light food is the showiest, and its bakers are exceptionally skilled in the art of making their dishes look the best. Light dragons have a propensity for large-scale feasts and celebrations. They bake insanely huge, mastercrafted cakes, and host banquets filled with exotic dishes from all around the world. Original Light cuisine is heavy on grains and dairy, creating all manner of beautifully knotted breads and succulent cheeses and butters. It also imports the most amount of ingredients and recipes; while it's hard to find a non-Light ethnic dish in Light that's as good as the originals back home, it's typically nothing to shake a stick at. Finally, we have Water. Water - what a shocker - really really likes seafood. As many spices and foods can't be transported properly underwater, they're quite uncommon, found only along the coastline and in the homes of those with the resources to magically ensure that their imports don't get ruined on the way down. They like fresh, raw fish, and probably also create something very much like sushi. They can't roast anything underwater, so they boil it all instead. Cuisine on the few over-land parts of the territory is heavily influenced by its neighbors, Lightning, Light, and Fire, and is just as varied.

[themadamelibrarian]

Adventures of Baby Castiel Chapters: 19 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Gabriel (Supernatural), Castiel, Lucifer (Supernatural), Michael, Chuck-God, Anael Additional Tags: Big Brother Gabriel, Baby Castiel, Angst (the parts will be warned in the title)

Summary: Angels are not born but they come into being as small creatures, just like humans. And someone has to guide them. 

Share this story and show support for the creator!  The Littlest Angel and The Messenger The day Gabriel first held Castiel in his arms was anything short of miraculous. The last Angel to be created in heaven and he was perfect in Gabriel’s eyes, with his white fluffy wings that would gain color after the first molt. And those blue eyes, like the clearest, deepest ocean, Gabriel had never seen eyes like those in an angel. Gabriel couldn’t be more enamored of this small being if he’d sprung from his own loins.

“Don’t worry, Little one. I’ll teach you all the best games. And just you wait until you can fly. We’ll be unstoppable.” 

BIRB “BIRB!” was Castiel’s first word, much to Gabriel’s chagrin. The archangel had been trying to get the fledgling to say ‘angel’. Shaking his head, Gabriel pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “No, Cassie. We aren’t birds, we’re Angels..can you say that? Angels.” he reaches out and wiggles one of Cas’ wings. The baby looked at his brother in consternation before blurting out “BIRB!” Shaking his head, Gabriel picks his little brother up and wraps his smaller of the three sets of wings around them. “Alright, Little Bird. Enough lessons for today,” he says as he reclines back for them to rest. Everything is quiet with the littlest angel curled up on his chest. This is until Castiel sits up straight and points right at Lucifer who is passing by and screams as loud as he can. “BIRB!”

Little Sneezes The first time Castiel’s grace manifests something from nothing, it’s a cloud of multi-colored bubbles. It’s a total accident and preceded by the tiniest high pitched sneeze, which Gabriel found both adorable and hilarious. The second time it happened, Castiel’s sneeze was louder and instead of bubbles, it was a shimmer of butterflies, much to the delight of the baby seriph. A couple of the small insects even stayed around and landed on Gabriel’s head like badly placed hair clips. The day Gabriel realized that it was time to train his little brother was when he sneezed six times in a row, effectively filling their nest with puppies, flopping fish and for some odd reason, taffies. 

Thumbs Aren’t Fashionable Castiel didn’t have many bad habits. At least none that weren’t expected of a fledgling who barely was a year old. But he had an infatuation with his thumb being in his mouth. Gabriel couldn’t figure it out, but he tried to get him to stop. Not successfully, but he tried. It’d gotten to the point that Castiel wouldn’t release the digit except to eat and even then you could see the deep consideration in his face. To uncork or to not uncork, that was the question. Gabriel even went so far as to try and consult with Raphael on the issue considering that his older brother was THE Archangel of Healing. Even Raphael’s suggestions didn’t work. Until one day, Gabriel introduced Castiel to a pacifier. The baby took to it immediately and totally forgot about his thumb. And if he got a few disapproving looks from Michael over the shape of the pacifier, he could care less. Seeing Cas with duck lips was just too funny to pass up. What Laughter Brings What most don’t realize is that a baby angel’s grace is the closest you can get to the raw energy of creation. That’s why older angels take great care in keeping outbursts from the fledglings as under control as possible. One misplaced tantrum could destroy a world that took eons to create. But Gabriel was not most angels and Castiel was a quiet, curious babe. Which did nothing but lull the Archangel into a false sense of security and he let his protective control of Castiel’s grace slip. The little angel was still quite small, in fact, he hadn’t even sprouted his wings yet. He would just lay content in the nest, gumming on a rattle as he silently watched his brother do various tasks. Gabriel turned to walk to the opposite side of the room when his foot caught in the rug and he fell ass over apple carts into a pile of feathers he’d saved from his last molting to line the nest. A spray of gold feathers shot into the air. Groaning Gabriel sat up with a loose feather sticking out of his hair like a chaotic crown. Castiel looks at the sight with wide eyes and a growing grin of amusement. Gabriel spits out a mouthful full of down with a small curse and Castiel erupts into a fit of giggles. The older angel glares at the baby, but it’s only half-hearted, as he rubs the feathers out of his hair. “Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?” Gabriel reaches over and runs his fingers along Castiel’s sides making them both erupt into laughter. Each of them feeding off the other’s joy. They keep on like this for several minutes, before Gabriel scoops him up. “Let’s go find something better to do than clean,” he says as he hugs him close to his chest. When Gabriel steps out of their nest, he stops short just at the threshold and stares open-mouthed at the rainforest surrounding them that hadn’t been there before. He looks down at Castiel and shakes his head with a chuckle. “Michael’s gonna kill me.” Who Needs A Teething Ring? A small whimper escapes from Castiel as he chews furiously on his fist, creating rivulets of drool that start to pool on a sleeping Gabriel’s chest. His brother shifts subtly under him but continues to sleep on. Trying to be the mediator between Michael and Lucifer was exhausting to the say the least, not to mention the debacle of Cas’ bath earlier. Castiel continues to chew on his chubby fingers until one of Gabriel’s wings shift around them, causing a feather to tickle across Castiel’s cheek. The little seraph stares at the errant feather for a moment before reaching out and grabbing it to drag it to his mouth. Wrapping his mouth around it, his gums work in an attempt to alleviate his discomfort. The trickle of grace that leaks through the feather manages to achieve his goal and he is lulled to sleep with a spit-soaked feather wedged in the corner of his mouth. Molting The first molts are always the worst, or so Gabriel had been warned. He personally couldn’t remember his nor had he really paid attention to other fledglings when they went through theirs. Now he wished he had. It all started with Castiel being crankier than usual. Not wanting to play and just generally being a grump when Gabriel tried to engage him. Then over the next few days it progressed to the point where all Castiel would do was lay curled up in a little ball, whimpering and hiccuping through his sobs. Gabriel tried singing to him and holding him, everything that was recommended by the few other angels he spoke to about it. He even went so far as to try and feed him a touch of his grace with disastrously messy results. After cleaning the nest up from the failed attempt at feeding an idea struck him. Castiel’s oil glands never produced much preen oil on their own and it’d made the task of caring for his wings a true chore. Gabriel could have smacked himself for not thinking of it sooner, his own oil. It couldn’t hurt even if it was generally frowned upon. To other angels, it was akin to using someone else’s toothbrush but at this point, Gabriel couldn’t care in the least. Settling down beside Castiel, he reaches back and massages his own glands until he had an ample amount running down his hand. With a touch that wouldn’t have disturbed dust, he runs his coated fingers through Castiel’s feathers. Taking great care in working the preening oil into the newly budding quills. When he was halfway through the first wing, Castiel’s whimpers tapered off and he turned his head to gaze up at his big brother to give him a faint wet-eyed smile. “Feeling better, Little Sparrow?” Gabriel softly inquires. Castiel lays his head on Gabriel’s bent knee and lets out a sigh of contentment, spreading his downy wings wide. Gabriel chuckles lightly as he watches the baby. “Don’t worry, Cas. I’ll figure things out eventually, even if we have to share toothbrushes along the way.” Fuzzy Bee He doesn’t know why he made the fluffy insectoid monstrosity for Castiel, but he did and now you couldn’t pry the stuffed animal from the hands of the fledgling if you used the strength of all of Heaven behind the proverbial crowbar. Castiel would drag the thing everywhere. To the garden, where he’d show ‘Fuzzy Bee’ the other bees in hopes he’d learn how to make honey or fly. He’d take it to the nursery area where he was supposed to play with other small angels, but instead, he’d sit in a corner and tell it the same stories Gabriel had told him the night before. Castiel even went so far with his fuzzy friend as to sit quietly and groom its wings as Gabriel groomed Castiels. But Gabriel had to draw the line when it came to bathtime because no way was he letting a soaking wet stuffie into the nest. Much to the chagrin of the younger angel, he made Castiel sit Fuzzy on the edge of the tub and wait until they were finished. Once dried, Castiel clutches Fuzzy tight to his chest and runs for the nest for story time. Gabriel crawls into the nest and scoops up Castiel along with his bee, into his lap. Before long, Gabriel hears his baby brother breathing soft and slow. Smiling down at the serene little face, he places a tender kiss on his chubby cheek. “Sleep well, Little Sparrow. You too, Fuzzy.” Curiosity Killed The Cat “Castiel!” the piercing cry from Gabriel reverberated through the heavens but the small angel paid it no heed as he and Fuzzy Bee followed after the pretty butterfly. Castiel continued his quest to catch the butterfly who danced along the currents, dangerously close to the edge of the chasm that dropped down to the lower planes. If an angel were to step off the edge, he would fall as his wings painfully burned away. The older angels call it ‘The Falls’. Castiel’s little wings, newly covered in a fluffy down of plumage, fluttered in imitation of his quarry as he giggles. Gabriel flies as fast as his wings can carry him as he scanned the heavens. His heart pounding in his chest when he couldn’t immediately find his brother. He’s about to turn back to make another pass when he sees Castiel start to tumble over “The Falls” with a terrified cry. Gabriel tucks his wings close to diving down and catches him before Castiel is completely lost to the mist that licks at the edge. “Whoa, there little nugget” he pants as he pulls them both from the edge. Castiel grasps a hold of Gabriel’s collar as he watches horrified as Fuzzy Bee tumbles into the mists. Gabriel lands on the grass and holds Castiel close. “It’s okay. Gabe’s got you.” Castiel looks up at Gabriel and bursts into tears as he points to The Falls. The only intelligible word that Gabriel could make out was Fuzzy. The archangel looks around and doesn’t see the stuffie anywhere around. That’s when he realizes what must have happened. He tries to soothe his brother as he reaches behind his back. With a snap of his fingers, a new Fuzzy Bee appears in his hand. Bringing it around, he shows Castiel that his little friend didn’t fall but was safe and sound. Castiel gasps when he sees the bee and quickly grapples it with both hands, burying his face between the antenna. With a sigh, Gabriel flies them back to the nest and tucks Castiel in as he silently thanks his Father that he found his brother in time to stop his fall from heaven. Baby Wings “Gabe, watch me!” said a small voice from a few feet away as little Castiel hunched down with his wings flared out to each side of his shoulders. He’d just gone through the second molt of his life and was overjoyed at having ‘grownup’ feathers. Gabe looks up from where he was studying one of the bright red flowers that were in this section of heaven and grins from ear to ear at the sight of his brother flapping his tiny wings for all his worth. Small downy feathers flying in every direction and raining down like charcoal colored snow. Honey It all started with a lone honey bee flying past the tip of Castiel’s nose. Fascinated by the buzzing insect, the little Angel follows after it. Watching with wide eyes as the bee stops at flower after flower collecting pollen and nectar. When the bee leaves the last flower and starts circling towards the hive in a nearby hollow log, Castiel spares a glance back to Gabriel who is speaking with Lucifer, Michael, and Raphael. All four of them in deep conversation and not paying particularly close attention to the Castiel’s activities. Smiling wide, he turns and chases after the bee to investigate what is going on inside the log. Lowering to all fours, Castiel peeks into the hive and at first, the bees are quite perturbed by the intruder. With a grace-laced coo from the baby, the sentry bees settle down and actually start their own exploration of the angel until there are several dozen bees walking along his wings trying to get a grasp on what has invaded their nest. Castiel carefully lays on his stomach so that he can watch the bees go about their work and politely greet the queen bee and her daughters, unknowingly getting thoroughly covered in a thin coat of honey that drips from older combs around him. He’s having such a grand time inside the cozy hive that he barely hears his name being called by the four Archangels. Lucifer is the first to find him or rather find his feet sticking out of the log. Bending down with a smile, Lucifer looks in on Castiel. “And what have you gotten into now, little brother?” Giggling, Castiel bids a quick farewell to the hive members and backs out until he faces the Morningstar while letting out a soft buzzing of his own. Laughing at the state of Castiel, he takes a step back. “Oh, Gabriel..” he sing-songs. “I think you’ll want to see this.” Gabriel and the others quickly walk over, Michael and Gabriel bursting out in laughter at the sight of young Castiel covered in honey with dirt and leaves sticking to him in random spots. The only one not laughing was Castiel, who was confused by his brothers’ reactions, and Raphael who looked like he was about to have a fit over the sight of an untidy fledgling. “He is filthy!” Raphael grumbles to Gabriel. “It isn’t proper or healthy for one so young…” “Oh lighten up, Raph. It’s just honey and dirt.” Michael laughs as he claps him on the shoulder. “Honey is the healthiest thing Father created on this Earth,” Gabriel says as he scoops Castiel up into his arms. “Isn’t that right, Nugget?” He swipes a finger across Castiel’s cheek to gather some of the honey on the tip and offers it to him. Castiel studies the finger for a moment before latching on. His eyes go wide as the sweetness hits his tongue and starts to suckle Gabriel’s finger clean. Raphael makes a disgusted noise and flies away from the unsightly display. Chuckling, Gabriel he says his goodbyes to his remaining siblings and flies back to his nest where he spends the better part of the day cleaning every morsel of honey from Castiel. After drawing three separate baths for each of them, he learns that honey is the worst thing in the universe to try to get out of fluffy down feathers but it was worth it just to hear Castiel imitating a bee every time the sweet stuff was mentioned. Dress Up Castiel was a curious angel. In fact, he is the reason that we have the saying “Curiosity Killed the Cat.” It was an unfortunate incident that Gabriel doesn’t talk about and never uses against Castiel in later years. Except that once when the Winchesters and he got into a particularly nasty situation…but I digress. Castiel was curious, especially about Gabriel’s armor. Which for the most part stayed propped in the corner of their nest well away from accidental touching by little hands. It wasn’t that the armor was delicate but that it was fashioned from a portion of Gabriel’s grace and the Archangel didn’t want it manhandled on a regular basis. That just made it all that more attractive for the younger angel, not to mention the fact that he wanted to be just like his brother. On this particular day, Gabriel had taken it down to dust it off from Castiel’s last molting which had feathers and dust flying everywhere. Whistling he’s working on his breastplate when Castiel walks into his field of vision with the Archangel’s Helm on his head. “Look, Gabriel. I’m ready.” Looking up, Gabriel starts to laugh at the sight of the ill-fitting helmet. “Not quite, Little Sparrow.” He grabs the pair of bracers and fastens them around Castiel’s arms. “There you go. Now you’re ready to fight the evil hordes.” With a whoop of joy, Castiel flairs out his wings and runs out of the nest. “Come on, Gabriel! We got to get the hordes.” With a smile, Gabriel puts on his breastplate with cloak and follows Castiel outside. They soon drew a crowd of other angels as they had their own little mock battle, using sticks as swords. It wasn’t long before Lucifer and Michael joined in while Raphael played referee. Lucifer and Castiel against Michael and Gabriel. It was a time filled with laughter and joy for the Archangels. One of last they were to have.
Naps
Gabriel was at his wit’s end. He could tell that Castiel was tired and was in serious need of a nap, but the little angel would not do it. In fact, every time Gabriel tried to lay him down, Castiel would start screeching like he was having his wings torn off. So that is why Gabriel was pacing around the Garden with Castiel clutched in his arms while the baby fussed and cried. Finally, Joshua, God’s Gardener, approaches the pair and directs them to a section of the Garden closer to the throne of their father. Here the garden grows thick with flowering plants that buzz with bees. The two older Angels sit under a tree as Joshua explains that Castiel just needs to feel peaceful to sleep soundly especially with the constant activity that’s found in other parts of Heaven. “You were the same way when you were younger, Gabriel. From the way Lucifer tells it, you were a trial on his patience when it came to napping.” the Gardener says with a chuckle. As the two angels talk, Gabriel lets Castiel wander amongst the flowers. Sometime later, Gabriel realizes that he can no longer hear the small chirps and babbles of Castiel. He looks around and can’t see him anywhere. Frantically, Gabriel and Joshua search the area, but can’t seem to find the seraph.

Panicked, Gabriel alone enters the throne room and is taken aback by what he sees. There is his Father, holding the little Castiel and crooning a lullaby. The Archangel is about to say something but Father looks up with a smile and places his finger to his lips to silence him. “Let him stay. He is my last and I cherish this moment.” Nodding, Gabriel slowly approaches them and happily watches them together. Even going so far as to sit at his Father’s feet to lean his head on his knee. Something he’d not done in a very long time. Father smiles down at his son, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ve done a fine job with him, Gabriel. You’re a good brother and I’m proud of you.” Nightmares It was quiet. The kind of quiet that only comes when everyone is asleep. Except for one noise piercing that quiet. A scream from a distressed angel ringing through the trees surrounding the nest and then falling into sobs. Gabriel awakens with a start, his sword materializing into his palm. His sleep-addled mind frantically looking around for the cause of the shriek. What he finds is Castiel curled around his pillow as his wings quake in fear. Discarding his sword, he shakes Castiel gently. “Castiel, wake up.” his words are soft so as not to startle the fledgling further. Castiel turns over and wraps his arms around Gabriel’s waist, burying his face into his stomach. “Monsters.” a single word that speaks volumes. Gabriel bends down and cradles him in his arms. “You’re safe, Castiel. There are no monsters here.” he rocks slowly the way he used to when his brother was much smaller. Shaking his head, Castiel sits up enough to crawl into Gabriel’s lap and clutch at his shirt. “But there are, I saw them,” he whines into Gabriel’s chest. “And fire and a bright light. A soul. I was trying to get the soul but the monsters broke my wings and dragged me down into the fire.” Gabriel’s heart clenches at the description. He’d never heard of such a horrid place and it chilled him to the very core of his grace to hear his charge describe such a thing. Taking a deep breath, he gives Castiel a tight hug. “It was just a dream. Besides, do you really think I’d let the monsters get you?” he tilts up the tiny angel’s face to look at him and gives him a smile. “Who would help me tug on Lucifer’s feathers when he isn’t looking?” Castiel sniffles a little before giggling. Gabriel lays back down and holds Castiel close, his hand gently stroking the silky curve of his wings. “Go back to sleep, little brother. I’ll keep the monsters away.” I’m Not A Nugget. I’m An Angel Of The Lord! Castiel is scowling at his brother with all the ferocity of Michael and Lucifer combined after that one time Gabriel turned their wings a bright shade of fuschia. Gabriel is finding it very hard not to break out in laughter at his small cherubic face scrunched up with his arms crossed over his chest. “Oh come on, Cas. It was just a nickname. You know I like to call you silly things.” “I’m NOT a nugget. I’m an Angel of the Lord.” Castiel replies with a stomp of his foot. Bending down, Gabriel smiles as he boops him on the end of the nose. “You are an Angel of the Lord, but still a nugget of one. And my nugget at that.” Why? Gabriel had snuck away with Castiel in tow. His little brother now having gone through his second molt, he wanted to give him a treat. So here they are on Earth to look at all of their Father’s latest creations. After quickly stopping Castiel from stepping on a fish crawling on the shore near the ocean, the small angel’s attention is drawn to a pair of animals mating. “Gabriel, what are they doing?” he asks innocently as he stares with a frown. Looking in the direction that Castiel is focused on, he shrugs as he continues walking. “They’re mating.” The archangel answers flatly as if he’s telling him the color of the sky. “Why?” Castiel runs after him, casting one last look at the animals before taking his brother’s hand. “So that they can have babies.” “Why?” Castiel chirps as he looks up at Gabriel. The eldest rolls his eyes because this isn’t the first time he’s played this game. “So that the species can continue on.” he patiently explains. “Why?” Letting out an exasperated sigh he answers the infernal question several more times until he’s talking in a circle. Finally, he bends down and looks Cas in the eye with a squint. “Because Dad said that’s the way it’s gotta be. So pick a different subject, would ya?” Castiel thinks about it for a moment before his eyes widen at Gabriel. “Did you mate to have me?” Groaning, Gabriel slaps a hand to his forehead and walks away. “No, Castiel. I didn’t.” And so begins another round of the ‘Why Game’ Away in the Manger It was the big night. Something his Father had planned for a long while and it was Gabriel’s job as the one who announced the upcoming birth to oversee the actual delivery to make sure everything went according to plan. When Gabriel tried to explain to Castiel that he had to go to Earth and that Lucifer would be keeping watch over the little angel, Castiel wouldn’t have any of it. He pleaded and begged for Gabriel to take him too. The sight of the young angel’s big blue eyes looking up at him as he pleaded his case is what finally broke Gabriel’s resolve. That’s how the youngest angel in heaven came to witness the birth. “Ga’riel, where are his wings?” Castiel asks quietly with a confused tilt of his head, his nose scrunching, as they looked on the baby asleep in the pile of hay. Chuckling, The Messenger gently strokes a hand over Castiel’s wing. “He’s human, Little One. He doesn’t have wings.” “So he can’t fly?” Gabriel shakes his head as he reaches out to brush the fine black hair from the human child’s forehead when he starts to fuss. The touch soothes the child back into a quiet sleep. “He won’t need to fly. Father says he’s got work to do here when he’s older. Important work.” Castiel’s mouth drops into an ‘o’ as he sits back into Gabriel’s lap. “Can I hold him?” “No, Cas. We’re just here to keep vigil while Mary and Joseph rest.” wrapping his arms around Castiel he starts to rock slightly out of habit while he hums tunelessly. “Ga’riel, do I have ‘portant work to do?” “I’m sure you will, nugget. Why else would your wings look the way they do. Made for speed and strength in flying. Father will tell us when you’re older, I’m sure. Until then you can help me from time to time.” “Really?!” Castiel looks up, his wings fluffing in excitement. “Really. Now be still. Baby Jehoshua is trying to sleep.” Gabriel kisses the top of Castiel’s head and starts to sing low and soft. “Oh, holy night. The stars are brightly shining…” Angel Tears (Warning angst ahead in this part) When Gabriel left heaven, little Castiel who was the equivalent in age of a human three-year-old, cried out for his nest mate and brother. His cries were so shrill and heartbreaking that it nearly brought the remaining Archangels to tears. But it wasn’t they who provided comfort to the small seraph, but it was Naomi’s hand who guided Castiel and made the crying stop… one way or another. Farewell, My Brother (Angst) The end was almost near. The final battle between his brothers Michael and Lucifer. Castiel had just joined the Winchesters at Bobby’s house after being dragging his graceless form from the hospital halfway across the country. As he leaned against a nearby credenza in Bobby’s study, his interest is piqued when the boys start explaining their need to find the rings of the four horsemen. When it’s revealed that Gabriel was the one who tipped them off to the method of opening the cage and the events leading up to the revelation, something inside Castiel broke a little. Swallowing thickly, he half listens to the rest of the conversation until he can’t any longer. Slipping out the door, he walks out into the yard until he can stare up at the night sky. He was not used to the feeling of sorrow welling up in his heart. With tears slipping down his cheeks, he watches an errant meteor burn out in the upper atmosphere. “Ga'riel.” is the only word he whispers before he sinks to his knees and mourns for the brother he could have called father. 

Kisses Castiel heard something very interesting one day while walking along with Michael. When he asked his older brother what mating meant, Michael explained very poorly that it was something that two Angels did when they loved each other. Castiel didn’t pursue the line of questioning beyond that as the answer Michael provided, however brief, was satisfactory to his young mind. Later when Michael left him with Lucifer to attend to important matters, Castiel crawled into Lucifer’s lap and very sincerely asked him to be his mate.

Surprised at the question, Lucifer looks down at the little angel and blinks for a moment as he tries to process what in the great flares of the Horsehead Nebula is going on.

“You want to be my mate?” Lucifer asks very slowly. Castiel nods so that his hair flops against his forehead. “I lub you and Mich says mates lub each other.” Lucifer lets out a chuckle as he shakes his head. “I am sorry, Little One. I’m…” he stops to think of the best way to let the little guy down without hurting his feelings. “I think you should ask Gabriel about this.” Castiel sticks out his bottom lip in a slight pout at Lucifer not agreeing but nods anyway as he snuggles into Lucifer’s chest. Days later, Castiel had not spoken to Gabriel about it but had asked nearly every angel near his age, some of the younger ones agreeing. Especially after hearing Castiel’s explanation of what it meant and who had told him about it. The one to seem to take it the most seriously was Anael. Whenever they would be brought to the garden with the other young angels, she and Castiel would be inseparable. He would teach her the things he learned from Gabriel and she, in turn, show him what she’d learned about flying. This went on for a great long while until one day Anna leaned over and gave him a sweet little kiss on the cheek. When she pulled away and smiled at Castiel, he turned a bright shade of crimson and took off back to Gabriel’s nest as fast as his legs could carry him.  Unaware of the events that were transpiring outside of the nest, he was spending some time sorting through the messages his Father wanted to be delivered soon. His thoughts on the most efficient routes were interrupted by a blur of someone running past him followed by a plume of feathers shooting into the air as the blur made an impact with the nest. Looking up in confusion, he bats a few feathers passing by his face while staring at the nest. “No one told me to expect meteorites today,” he mumbles as he crawls towards the nest. As Gabriel gets closer he sees two bright blue eyes peeking out from a trembling pile of his loose feathers. Gabriel lays flat on his stomach so that he can be level with the blue eyes and rests his chin on his hands. “Hello, Castiel. Are we playing a game?” The pile shakes back and forth emphatically with the movement of Castiel’s head. “No! Gotta hide.” “Oh? And why’s that, nugget?” Gabriel asks softly as he chances a glance at the door to make sure some danger wasn’t following his charge. “Cuz…Anna..she…she KISSED me!” Castiel hisses from his hiding place as if the mere mention of the ‘K’ word would conjure another out of thin air. Gabriel lets out a gasp, not at all truly shocked after what Lucifer told him about Castiel’s proposition. “She did?? And what did you do?” Castiel lifts his head, dislodging the nest feathers so his face appears. “I runnded away.” The Archangel tries to hide the smile that is threatening to come through in his amusement. “You ran away from a kiss? Why would you do that? Anna’s cute and sweet on you.” “Cuz, Gav'iel. Kissin’s….” Castiel thinks about the experience and wrinkles up his nose in disgust as he scrubs at his cheek. “icky an’ wet.” “Well, I can’t argue with you about that, kiddo. But maybe someday you’ll like it and then you and your mate won’t stop kissing.” Gabriel sits in the nest beside Castiel and pulls the small one into his lap. “Then I don’t want mates if their gonna be kissin’ me.” he grumps as his wings fluff up in aggravation. “Lucifer told me that you wanted him to be your mate. Did you ask Anna too?” Gabriel runs his hands over Castiel’s wings to get the feathers to lay back down. Castiel shrugs as he leans his head on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Michael saids you’re mates if you love someone. And I love Luc and Anna.” “Ohhh.” Gabriel rolls his eyes at Michael’s botched job of explaining something as complicated as Mating to the little guy. “Well, just because you love someone doesn’t mean you have to be their mate.” he adjusts his hold on Castiel so he can look him in the eye. “Mates are a very, very special kind of love. A love that is greater than the kind you have for me or Lucifer or Anna. That big kinda love will make you want to disobey everything just to make sure they’re safe and happy.” Castiel looks up at Gabriel with wide eyes. “Disobey?? Wow..” “Yep. Someday you’ll see what I mean.” Gabriel places a kiss to the top of Castiel’s head and gives him a short hug. “So, you want to go see what colors we can turn Raphael’s feathers today?” Castiel giggles at the thought of the last time they turned Raphael’s feathers Vermillion with green spots. Nodding, he jumps up from Gabriel’s lap and tugs his hand to get him moving. “Can we do rainbow colors with sparkles?” Gabriel finds Castiel’s laughter infectious and is soon giggling along with him as they walk out the door. “I’ll even have them make sounds this time.”