#flora of South America

[nynehells]

I want u all to share in this knowledge with me that if the Last City is anywhere near the atacama desert or its neighboring mountains then theres probably these little guys (azorella compacta, or llareta). and thats beautiful.

[ultimavela]

Welcome to Octaria Pulnassea's tome of creatures, rumors, and alchemy.

In it, you will find a new creature every two weeks (on Tuesdays). Below, you can check the last entry of Octaria's tome.

The “Wailing Flower” is loosely based on the “Coñeima”, and although the coñeima is associated with fortune, and may be equivalent to the goddess of minerals in other mythologies, I preferred to give it a darker theme and aura. In fact, the only thing they both share is the crying and its relation to lunar cycles.

COÑEIMA: f. Flower that inhabits the trunks of larches and cypresses. When it opens at new moon, it cries like a creature. Variation: coñieuma, cuñeima. Meaning: “miracle child” El libro de la mitología: historias, leyendas y creencias mágicas de la tradición oral, Renato Cárdenas Alvarez

“Among the farmers chosen by fortune, the luckiest can find, once in his life, inside one of its trunks, a flower of dazzling beauty similar to a lily: It is the mother, which, opening wide its four white petals, reveals in her bosom another smaller flower, with luminous golden petals, which projects a soft light in the gloom of its hiding place; it is the daughter, who, as a defense, exhales a nauseating odor, to keep away the intruder who observes her; however, he experiences such fascination, that he remains in ecstatic admiration of her. Soon another surprise is added to this marvelous vision: the small flower, beautiful and delicate (it is like a beautiful doll, my informants affirmed), starts a series of movements, emitting sonorous cries, identical to those of a newborn baby. Immediately afterward, both disappear.” Chiloé Mitológico, Dr. Bernardo Quintana Mansilla.

[travel-with-kat]

Chirikyaku, Peru

[lunemorte]

Tamarindo, Costa Rica

[southdakotagirl1966]

dreamscapes..

[buckets-and-trees]

"You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself."

👀👀👀

Well... as you know, this escalated quickly.

Title: Sacrificial Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Minotaur!Bucky x Botanist!Female!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: If it seems too good to be true, it always is. Always. Too bad you had to go to the remote jungles of South America to learn that lesson.

Content/Concept Warnings: DARK, lulled into a trap, human sacrifice, dubious consent/fuck or die, public sex/exhibitionism, size kink, monster fucking, face fucking/oral male receiving, vaginal fingering/fisting, breast worship, rough fucking, possessive/pet, praise kink, dirty talk, cum play, marking, cream pie, choking

Additional Notes: Thoty time with @rookthorne... she's only responsible for enabling me when my monster thirst reared its head. Wicked entry for @buckybarnesevents WEEK ONE of Hot Bucky Summer: "What Should I Wear?" and my third square of @buckybarnesbingo K1 "Fuck or Die."

When you told your friends, family, and former colleagues about the research grant and fellowship you had been awarded in the weeks leading up to your departure that it was too perfect, clearly somewhere deep in your bones you had known.

Eighty thousand dollars a year for three years, travel covered, visa approved, fully furnished accommodations provided, and a book deal for the discoveries and research studying flora in a largely undocumented and remote part of the jungle on another continent.

No scientist got a deal like that.

The only downside was the isolation of the location. They had electricity and running water, but you would only be able to go into town for internet every few weeks.

But the part of you that had grown up watching Indiana Jones, Jurassic Park, LOST, and the deep space missions of Star Trek who had far too many plants in your apartment and in your tiny office at the university had beat back that downside. It was only three years, and after living through the strange isolation of the pandemic, you knew you could manage this where you wouldn’t be isolated from people, just for short stints from your old life.

And though you had good pieces and good people in your life, you were desperate to get away from the suffocating societal expectations you felt like you weren’t living up to while so many others around you were – marriage, kids, white picket fences, career accomplishments, tenured professorships, promotions, raises, overnight influencers, travel vloggers.

This was something no one you knew had ever done.

Everyone raved about the adventure ahead of you.

Everyone had been impressed.

You had conquered in the accomplishments department with this for the year, no question. Your older sister with her third child on the way and your younger brother and his Premiere League football contract could wallow in your shadow.

This was a golden opportunity for a research botanist still in the early years of their career.

Kneeling on the ground in the middle of the jungle with your hands folded in your lap, head bowed, surrounded by a village of people who all should have known better than to follow ancient superstitions, with a dozen or more guns trained on you in nothing more than lingerie, you were living a nightmare.

All of it had been a baited trap.

No one would even question you falling off the grid before it was too late, and even if they did, these villagers could say one day you never came back from the jungle.

And it would be true.

One afternoon and evening, a good dinner, a sleep you’d yearned for thinking it was the jet lag, and then you’d awoken screaming as the first strip of wax had been ripped from your skin to discover you were naked with a half dozen people attending to all aspects of your grooming, preparing you to be their human sacrifice for the beast that lived in the jungle.

You were past the crying and pleading.

The no WIFI had been a lie, too.

Everyone in this small village looked and acted like they lived in the present day except for this one thing.

The belief that if they did not provide the beast his human sacrifice that they would not survive his terror.

“Then why don’t you just leave?” you had implored.

“This is our home, our loved ones are here, our ancestors are part of this place, and,” their leader and the head of the research foundation paused – almost faltered before continuing to explain, “the sacrifice of one stranger will guarantee us safety for many, many years.”

Everyone else had been instructed not to speak or listen to you from that point on in the preparations.

Nails trimmed, buffed, shined. Luxurious oil that smelled delicate and heavenly rubbed over every inch of your skin from the neck down. Hair partially braided to stay out of your face with the rest left natural. Color applied to your lips. They didn’t bother with eye makeup. No jewelry.

You had been wrapped up in a linen garment that was not quite a robe but not quite a coat to be transported to the ruins of an old stone dais in the thick of the jungle but deprived of it and then pushed onto the sacrificial area, left only in the sapphire silk of a bra and panties delicately lined with lace.

After hours being poked, prodded, and prepared by strangers in a strange land in a state of dread and disbelief, you thought you were numb.

You had endured too much to think you were hallucinating, but that you now all waited illuminated by literal torches with fire made this seem almost like a season of Survivor gone horribly wrong.

But then you heard the hushed wave of whispers at the rustle and rumble of something approaching through the thick vegetation of the jungle and adrenaline shot through your veins. It didn’t inspire fight or flight. You were frozen, fixated on the beast that would finally appear and seal your fate any moment now.

It made no attempt at arriving quietly, and when it finally appeared, there were collective gasps and cries from the people gathered to watch the sacrifice, though no sound fell from your lips.

The reaction was more than warranted, and a whisper of a thought flashed through your head that you were surprised no one had screamed. Maybe they were too terrified to scream, worried they would draw the beast’s attention. You wanted to scream, but your chest was gripped in fear.

The thick, furry legs of a bull, down to the cloven hooves, and a girthy tail with a tuft of dark hair at the end, swishing slightly as he walked. There was a loincloth tied at his waist that – rather than providing modesty – inspired anyone whose gaze lingered there to imagine the bulge nudging conspicuously beneath. Not that anyone’s gaze would linger there for long, for the rest of him was altogether imposing. Only the tallest of the villagers might hope to measure up to the base of his sternum – the sternum that anchored the torso of a man with shoulders more than twice the width of a human. Skin golden from the sun stretched over muscles that burst and rippled over his chest and shoulders, extending down his arms. You could see a litany of angry scars littered up and down his left arm.

Great bull’s horns rose and curled out of his head, possibly longer than your own arms. He had a mane of long, glossy but mostly unruly brown hair, with a couple of braids, that fell past his shoulders. Though the rest of his physique inspired fear, the true terror was perhaps the face of this man beast – it was terrifyingly handsome. Strong jaw, stubbled beard, a crease between his brows, and piercing blue eyes. His expression was drawn into an ominous grin.

He was in no rush as he walked into the ring of the villagers.

“Weapons down,” he growled.

There was almost no hesitation – their purpose had been to keep you in place anyway. Though the fear in the air was palpable, the tone of it seemed to be turning to some sort of reverent fear now for everyone else.

What inspired this unquestioned obedience from an entire people? People you’d seen with smart phones as abundantly among them as any other place on earth, though you’d been advised to shut yours down and leave it behind since it would be of next to no use to you in the jungle. They were right – but had left out the true reason and made it even more believable for you to seem only cut off to those back home, not lost and gone forever.

His enormous legs took the step easily up onto the dais, and his eyes were now fixed only on you. He stopped at the foot of the altar where you were presented for him.

“Well done,” this was meant for the people and their leader.

Then he reached out and the fingers of his large hands traced the strap over your left shoulder, then along your jaw, tilting your chin to look straight up at him. “And your choice is set?”

“My – my choice?” your voice cracked, but you felt it was a miracle you even found it.

Your confusion must have been evident, as his eyes flashed with anger and her rounded on the man who had facilitated all of this. “You did not tell her anything, did you?”

“I thought it best if –“

“It is not your job to think. The thoughtlessness of your people is why we’re here at all,” he snarled. Then he turned back to you.

“No time for stories now. I’m a minotaur called Bucky; a lost soldier cursed long ago to this state. Suffice it to say II must be satiated or the village will be subjected to bloodshed and desolation in the face of my wrath. They’ve chosen you, but you can choose your fate: fuck or die. I’ll take your throat, or I’ll cut it and drink your blood in front of everyone.”

Your chest heaved in trepidation. “How is that a choice?”

“Is it not clear to you?”

“Have others chosen death?”

He nodded. “Or they refused to choose.”

You opened your mouth then closed it again.

“Do you wish to die?”

You thought your tears were spent, but you could feel them welling in your eyes. “No.”

“Then claim your choice.”

You took a shaky breath.

“Say it!” he barked.

You flinched, but managed to spit out, “Fuck.”

“Perfect. Open up.”

“In front of everyone?” your voice was barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “They will remember and mark this sacrifice. It will be the reason they continue to breathe.”

You spread your knees a part so you were still kneeling and sitting back on your heels but his to take like this.

“That’s nice but not what I meant.” He tugged his loincloth and dropped it to the ground. You whimpered, afraid of the enormous size of his cock and ashamed at the lick of heat that flared in your core at the sight of him. He leaned down closer, put a hand at the back of your neck, and slapped the side of your face with his rigid length. “You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself.”

This drew a handful of muted gasps from the onlookers. You saw a spark of something new in his eyes at this reaction.

He was pleased at their reaction.

You dropped your mouth open for him, nervous knowing you could not take all of him, embarrassed to be on such display in front of these strangers, but wanting to please him.

Wait, you thought, wanting to please him?

He shoved his cock into your wet mouth, shoving any other thoughts immediately out.

“Suck.”

You did.

“Just like that,” he said. The hand on your neck moved up to cradle and command the back of your head. He slowly began to fuck your mouth but with only a small motion, encouraging you to continue sucking just that first bit of cock as it was in your mouth. He still was in no rush. It felt like a power play – not wanting to show impatience or lack of restraint in the onset of this sacrificial claiming.

As he continued to speak now, his voice was low, intended for you. “Get ready for more.”

You looked up at him and tried to nod your head ever so slightly. He smirked, then he brought his other hand up under your jaw and to your throat, wanting to feel himself using you. He groaned and briefly closed his eyes. His tip hit the back of your mouth, and you spluttered. He pulled out slightly, giving you half a moment to recover, then forced the point again, holding himself there while you adjusted. He opened his eyes again, locking back onto yours, and a thrill of terror shot through you again. That was only the preliminary.

Now he would truly begin.

That look was all you got. Keeping the one hand at your throat, the provided the anchor to begin truly fucking your throat, not in a rush, but he picked up the pace. You placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself. Your muscles initially gagged in protest, but he persisted, stroking your throat with his fingers as well, coaxing you to relax. Tears spilled down your cheeks. You concentrated on breathing through your nose and the steady gaze he kept trained on you. Soon you were taking more of him than you thought you could. He quickened his thrusts into your mouth. Your fingers stretched into the fur on his hips, mewling as he continued to use your mouth.

A few short grunts with the last thrusts were the only hint before he came, shooting his hot spend in your mouth with an unrestrained howl that shook the crowd to their core. There was no way for you to swallow everything, but, if anything, seeing his cum spilling down your chin made him grin.

Then he raised his head to address the villagers. “Remember that you gave this human to me. I will do with her as I please, and you will never see her again. Hope that you never see me again in your lifetime,” his voice carried, his power unquestioned in the clearing. “If you are lucky, the children you left home today will not see me in their lifetimes either. All of you go now. What happens next is not for your eyes.”

They followed his instructions without hesitation, all of them eager to be gone from this cursed place and their collective and ignored shame.

They left the torches – no desire for a souvenir.

And now you were alone with him, the light of the flames flickering over every inch of your exposed skin – which was almost all your skin, the lingerie only for show.

With the hand that was still anchored at the back of your head, he roughly angled you up sharply to look directly up at him, and tipping his own head forward he loomed in all his height above you, a truly searing heat in this look. “I meant what I said: you are mine, and I will never allow those vile villagers to see you again. You’re mine to do with as I please.”

He stooped down to claim your mouth in a kiss. His large thumb brushed the remaining spend from your chin and then moved down your throat to brush it over your collar bone, rubbing it in. He pushed his tongue between your lips, and you opened your mouth for him again. His tongue was too big for your mouth, too, but the more he subjected your body to the largeness of his being, the more you seemed to seep into him. He used his tongue to wrap around and tangle with yours, stroking it with his, now and then slipping it further down your throat, teasing, choking, mimicking the actions of his cock not long before.

When you were truly gasping, he chuckled darkly and pulled away, you leaned forward, lips chasing his, and then you shook your head, trying to restore some logic.

Failing.

Bucky easily tore away your bra with his brute strength. “Lay back for me, lamb.”

You shifted, legs aching from resting on them in that kneeling position for far too long. He noted the care you took in moving your limbs and rubbed the muscles up and down a few times. Then he pulled your hips to the end of the alter, flush against his cock, which was already semi-hard again. You hummed as he pushed against your still-clothed core.

His hands moved from your thighs up your sides, stoking the desire surging through your body, moving up your waist, thumbs brushing up against the underswell of your breasts, then flicking over the nipples, bringing them to little peaks before diving down to lave one of them with his tongue and suck, rolling, twisting, and pinching the other with his hand. Then he moved his mouth, and as he latched on to the other nipple, his hands worked the lace and silk panties off your hips and down your legs before tossing them away. He rutted up against you again, slow but persistent pressure against your core again, but now with no barrier he felt your arousal slicking up your entrance. When you began working your hips against him, seeking more friction, fisting your hands into his hair, he moved a hand between your legs, stroking over your labia and pushing one of his fingers right into your cunt, making you keen immediately from the force and fullness.

“Going to ruin you, lamb, but don’t want to hurt you.” He was brutal, but only because he was a monster by nature, not because he was heartless. “Gotta work your tiny pussy open so you can take me like you were meant to.”

As before, he was patient, making up for the impatience mounting inside you as he worked his fingers into you, circling, questing, stretching, twisting. When he pushed three fingers in he could tell it was a lot, but he knew he needed you to easily receive four if he was going to get to fuck you on his cock the way he wanted. All through it, he was relentless in overwhelming you in other ways, continuing to worship your breasts, but also murmuring praises against your skin, and threatening and promising filthy things that you couldn’t even respond to.

When you were thoroughly primed, aching for him, a mess with tears and begging for him, he finally realigned his hips between your legs, forcing your thighs wide to accommodate him. He bumped the head of his cock against your throbbing clit a couple of times, making your whimper repeatedly. You were lost as you lay splayed out above him, eyes tightly shut, hands reaching for him, desperately pleading his name over and over. He bent down to you again, relishing the feel of your breasts brushing against his chest for one more moment before sinking his cock into your cunt with a brutal thrust, pushing clear to the hilt, making you scream. It was wicked, and he knew it, but also knew how much he had worked up your body and your mind, and he was rewarded as you arched beneath him, and wrapped your arms around his neck, adjusted your hips, and then rocked against him, clearly seeking more.

Holding you at the precipice of pleasure for so long meant you crashed into your first orgasm very quickly as he pushed his cock in and out of your, “tight heat, little lamb, taking me so well,” he cooed. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, shuddering as he fucked your through it, groaning at the feel of your walls around him. “No one else will ever have this cunt now,” he vowed. “You’re mine.”

“Mine,” you echoed without thinking, not knowing it was exactly how he wanted his pet to feel about him. He pushed you over the edge into another orgasm and then spilled his hot seed inside you not long after. You were beyond spent, at that point, and less than a minute after he scooped you up, tucking your legs around his waist, you dropped out of consciousness, and went totally limp. He kissed the top of your head, then shifted you to sling you over his shoulder for the trek to his lair – your home. He’d secure you there, then go back to the get the wooden crate of the belongings you had shipped ahead of you and the bag you had traveled with – both were supposed to be deposited and waiting in a cave, the final part of his negotiations for acquiring his new human from that village and their foolish leader. Humans were delicate creatures with peculiar needs, after all, and he was determined to keep you content and fucked out until you were devoted to staying with him until the end of your days.

But the last hour had exceeded even his own expectations. He suspected he wouldn’t have to try very hard to keep his little lamb.

NEXT PART: Do You Remember

"haunting thoughts" on Sacrificial for the Dark Forest Fest

brief insight into what reader's life is like now

physical appearance of Minotaur!Bucky

easy and challenging parts of writing the fic

the writing of the story from concept to completion in one night

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[rs-hawk]

Are you willing to write about anthropomorphic gorillas?

Sure, like a Missing Link type thing? I think this piece is my longest so far. I actually had a lot of fun with it so let me know if y'all want more of it :)

You were studying evolution by going backwards, starting with modern day Homo Sapiens until you ended up on an island off the coast of South America, in the middle of no where. While you always had been a huge believer in the floating vegetation theory, the idea of something as large as a primate, hominin or hominid travelling via floating clumps of vegetation seemed far fetched, even to you. Yet here you were, standing on one island of a long island chain that had previously never been studied.

"Are you sure this is even worth the time?" your assistant asked as he looked around the area, a frown creasing his face. "I know that we're searching for a link, but come on Doc. This seems like a stretch."

"I know, but this is where those trees originated, and if they ended up in Brazil, maybe that could explain how New World Monkeys ended up in South America," you say, mirroring his frown.

The two of you, and a small crew, spread out to find a suitable place to camp. Once it's found, you settle in. In the morning, you've planned to try to find any primates who might still reside here. Much to your surprise, when you wake up in the morning, you see a large humanoid footprint right outside the campsite. A knot forms in your stomach as you imagine how big that creature must have been.

Your crew is also stunned, especially your assistant. He insists on following you around like a lost pup, toting a gun. You have to tell him to stop and calm down. Human presence here already is disruptive to the ecosystem. He doesn't need to make it worse. With a grumble and a grunt, he slings it over his shoulder, taking care not to let it catch on any flora in the area.

"Look at this," you breathe, gesturing to the large footprints that you found in a clearing.

You're so excited that you feel like you're basically vibrating. Yes, this isn't even close to what you're looking for, but a primate of that size would be the scientific discovery of the century! Who knows what something like that could mean for the state of evolution. Surely you could get another grant to come back and study it.

"Be careful," your assistant mutters as you approach the footprints, measuring the size and diameter. The depth of the footprint stuns you. "Whatever left that could be dangerous."

"You think everything could be dangerous," you roll your eyes, recording your notes. "Besides, I know more about primates than you. I know that they have the potential to be dangerous. We would see this creature if it was anywhere in the area."

"Yeah," he mutters, looking around.

After a bit of back and forth, you send him back to camp to get more supplies for you to study the footprints. Once he's out of sight, you pause before following the footprints. He would be on you about following this creature, but you can't help yourself. Something is pulling you closer to it. Like a primal need to be closer to this creature. This piece of your own history.

A voice that you don't recognize came from somewhere in the distance in front of you. After a moment, a huge, towering figure comes out of the trees. The trees themselves bend to his will. Your stomach drops. You steps falter. This creature could have easily crushed you if it so chose.

The creature, a towering hulk of a something that is a perfect blend of man and gorilla. Your throat feels like it's closing up as it stops a few paces away from you. Opening its mouth, the creature speaks to you again, but you still don't understand what the words mean.

"I'm sorry," you say after a moment, the stunned buzzing in your brain starting to dissipate. This creature can speak. There's no way that your grant won't be extended. "I don't understand what you're saying."

He, you think he based on the physique this close, frowns at you. He speaks again. You shake your head. Once more. Again, you shake. This time when he speaks, you don't understand what he's saying, but you do recognize it as Latin. "I don't speak Latin but it's the root language for mine."

The creature looks at you, now shaking his head. The both of you try to communicate with each other, and it works to an extent. You're fairly certain that he comes from a small village at the base of the mountain near the center of the island. They mostly eat fruits and vegetables, and he makes gestures that leads you to believe that clothes are sometimes worn, but not the norm.

Before you realize it, you and the creature are sitting beside each other, his towering form nearly obscuring you when your assistant finally makes his way back to you.

"What is that thing?" he yells, making a grab for his gun.

"Don't! He's friendly. He was telling me about his home," you jump up, putting yourself between them.

Your assistant eyes him wearily. The creature looks at you, then back at your assistant. He says something you don't understand in Latin, then waves at your assistant. He frowns slightly. It feels like there's going to be a stand off, but instead, your assistant folds his arms over his chest, a frown steeped into his features.

"Go back to the camp. Thank you for the supplies. I will be back before nightfall," you promise, slightly shooing him away.

After a bit of back and forth, you convince him to leave. You and the creature stay together for a long time, until dusk. Every day for weeks, the entire expedition, you meet up with the creature, getting closer to him. Getting to know him and his people. You even get to see the outskirts of the village. A true testament to how amazing evolution and innovation are.

When the night before you are set to leave comes, you come to him, standing outside his village, a basket of his favorite fruits and vegetables clutched in your shaking hands. He sees you, encouraging you to come into the village. Into his home. You follow, shrinking away from the gazes of his people, who seem to know you don't belong here. And how could they not? You're so small compared to them. So fragile.

In his hut, you feel even smaller. Everything in there is so large compared to you. You haven't been able to figure out a name from your new friend, but you've taken to calling him Link in your head. Link hands you a fruit that you've never seen before he sits in what is essentially a chair across from you.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," you say quietly, looking down at your fruit. He doesn't respond. You look up at him, and you can tell even under the fur that he's frowning. "In the morning, the boat is leaving. I have to go with them."

He says something you don't understand, to which you shrug. He points at the hole that functions as a door in his hut, then at you, and waves. You nod. He looks down at his hands, his shoulders slumped forward. Neither of you say anything for a moment, then he gets up. His massive form nearly encompassing you as he stands in front of you.

He opens his mouth, then closes it. In broken English, he says, "S-stay." Your eyes well with tears as you shake your head, staring at the way his hands cover yours when he grabs them. "Me. Stay me."

You shake your head again, wishing that you could remember any Latin outside of names. Why didn't you pay more attention in class? "I can't."

He lets go of your hands before pacing around the hut. You look at the now crushed fruit in your hands. "Go me."

"What?" you look up at him, your heart soaring. Was he saying what you thought he was? Then again, your mind races. What would happen to him when you got back home? He would be seen as a specimen, wouldn't he?

"Go me," he comes back to you, grabbing your hands, the juice squishing between your fingers as he tightens his grip. "Go me. Go you. Go me."

"You can't come with me," you whisper, caressing his furry face. He looks at you like his heart his breaking. "I wish I could explain better." You slide your hands out of his, trying not to cry. You point toward yourself, "people like me," then you touch his chest, "would kill someone like you." You drag your thumb across your throat.

He seems to understand what you're saying, though he looks more hurt than scared. "Go me," he whispers cupping your face with his large hands. "Stay you?"

You shake your head, leaning into his touch. What had you been thinking? If you come back here, if you study them, they'll be destroyed. Their entire culture will be gone, consumed by capitalism and greed. Isn't that what's happened a thousand times over?

Suddenly, you're snapped out of your thoughts by the feeling of his lips pressed against yours. His fur tickling your skin. You blink a couple of times before kissing him back, surprised but happily so by the sudden show of affection. His tongue demands an entry to your mouth. You shiver, giving in to the lust and overwhelming affection for him that has sprung up on you all at once, but unsurprisingly.

His large hands trail down your body, pausing at the end of your shirt. He mutters something against your lips that you understand the gist of. He wants you as bare as him. You hesitate, your face flushing, but it only takes another tug at your shirt for you to relent. In seconds you've stripped yourself, probably the fastest you've ever done such. His huge hands cup your breasts, covering them completely. When he picks you up to settle you in his lap, you feel how big his cock is hard. Sure, you've seen it as he doesn't wear clothes, but this was different.

Maybe he's more human than you thought, because unlike other primate species, but like humans, size did seem to matter. You realize that when he breaks the kiss to look at you, then at himself. He looks... embarrassed.

You don't know what compels you, maybe just the look on his face, but you start stroking him, having to use both hands to wrap about him. His eyes fall to half lidded. His breathing hitches. Slowly, he grinds his hips against you, letting you stroke him at your leisure. You dip your head down, struggling, but managing, to take the tip of his cock in your mouth. He grunts, digging his nails into your back. You know there will be, at best, crescent shaped bruises on your back come morning.

You bob your head as much as you can manage, his grunts and soft whines spurring you on. While you can't understand the things that slip from his mouth, you can tell by the way he says them that he's enjoying it.

You do your best to get him further down your throat, bracing yourself against his furry hips, but that just makes him grunt, snorting out of flared nostrils. For a second you still, every hair on the back of your neck standing up. Every nerve screaming danger. Even in this moment, you are aware that a primate doing that can spell death. It's a common sign of anger or aggression.

You're surprised when he lifts your head off of him, shaking his head. You frown, raising your eyebrows to ask why. He pauses before adjusting you, easily picking you up and settling you back in his lap, this time with your back against his chest. You're a bit ashamed of yourself to see the mess your wetness made of his fur, but that thought abandons you as he grinds his cock against your core, but his fingers dip down in front of you, teasing your clit.

You whine, grinding back against him. With his other hand, he's back to playing with your breast, softly pinching your nipples. Rolling his thumb over your senstive center over and over again. He brings you to a surprisingly quick orgasm. He makes a sound you think sounds like a laugh before his fingers dip lower. You still, even your breathing, as he slids one finger into your dripping hole.

He starts off slowly as he fingers you, before adding another. You press yourself more against his chest, whimpering and babbling about how good it feels. This time, you're sure it's a chuckle. He spreads his fingers out inside of you, trying to stretch you out. Your head lulls to the side, leaning against his arm. You feel so full. So good. Through your haze, it takes you a moment to realize that he's settling you onto his cock.

A quiet yip escapes your lips as his huge tip fills you more than anything you've ever taken. He pauses, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You try to press yourself down on him. You don't even realize you're chanting. Begging.

"More. More. Please! More."

He understands the premise enough to push you down lower and lower on him, slowly impaling you. He gives you time to adjust, and by the time he bottoms out inside of you, you're a drooling, babbling mess. He drops you up and down on his cock slowly, then faster and faster. You're crying out for him, grabbing onto his arms as he bounces you on his cock, the huge member even extending your stomach. You know you're soaking his fur, but you can't help yourself. You lose track of how many times him pounding and sliding against your g-spot makes you cum.

By the time he does, you're sobbing from over stimulation, and he's whispering to you in a soothing voice, stroking your hair with one hand as the other guides you to roll your hips on him. He finally cums, so much that it overflows from you. You whimper and press your head back harder against him, feeling the best you ever have in your life. How are you possibly supposed to leave him?

[cookinguptales]

omg I'm crying I was looking through old newspapers from the 1800s and there's this article here about flora and fauna from south america but the illustration to go with it is just so unabashedly horny

DID THE DEVIL TREE TAKE HIS CLOTHES, TOO?

[amuseoffyre]

History yelling time, because I am a very excitable little bean. I know I probably wailywailed about this at the time, but I need to waily wail some more.

We get a very, very brief glimpse of this map, followed by Zheng's fleet coming through the jungle and the tiny moment of that had me yelling and flailing because it's a hugely significant historical place that she's bringing them across.

This is the Darien Gap, one of the narrowest points between the north and south American continents. This is a map from 1732, where you can still see a spot marked "New Caledonia" (ie. New Scotland).

In the late 17th/early 18th century, Scotland tried to set up a crossing from the Atlantic to the Pacific in order to make a fortune in trade by cutting out the need to go around South America and/or Africa. It did not end... well. That is an understatement.

The fact that Zheng is specifically bringing them across at the point where the New Caledonia settlement was based tickles me so much. She's succeeded in doing the crossing and she's done it with a large number of her ships so discreetly that no one has noticed. She's someone who has plans and contingencies and Gets The Work Done.

She also has a varied and diverse crew who would bring different experiences and knowledge to the table unlike the herd of very beige Scotsmen who got to Darien and couldn't deal with the climate, the bugs, the altitude, the flora, the fauna and... well... everything.

And while some people wondered what that scene was kept in for since her ships were blown up - only her ships that were already in the Caribbean were blown up. As you can see on that first map, she has a whole queue lined up to come over. It's all optimistic set-up for S3: her second fleet is coming and Ricky is gonna rue the day he pissed her off.

And for the curious, a connection was eventually made in/around that specific area, but not until the late 19th century and it was only completed in 1904.

[elbiotipo]

Very interesting that there still is an Antarctic floristic kingdom based on what flora remains from Antarctica, spread over South America, New Zealand and Australia, and the Southern Atlantic Islands:

I propose we terraform a planet and seed it with just these plants and animals from the Southern Hemisphere. Just to see what happens.

[avatar-anna]

I need to check in on professor and H!

I love them so much. I would adoreeee a lil blurb or something! 🥺💘 xx

Hot and Bothered

where Harry and the professor are feeling the heat. enjoy!!!

The Professor Series

You weren’t going to go down to the pool. The outdoors weren’t really for you, and warm weather? Hot weather? Forget it. You liked bundling up in cozy sweaters and wearing thick woolen socks and letting the steam from hot tea warm your face.

But everyone was hanging out by the hotel pool today, and recently you’d been making an effort to be more social. That, and Harry left the hotel room before you woke up, so you hadn’t seen him all day; the only way was to get into some shorts and sandals and brave the semi-public pool.

You were in one of Harry’s shirts, not the same one you woke up in, the sole swimsuit you owner underneath. It was plain, not particularly revealing or prudish, merely the first one you grabbed at the store when you were preparing for the trip to South America. Fiddling with the hem of the lace button down, you scanned the poolside for Harry.

It took a few moments, everyone staying at the hotel seeming to have the same idea today. But your eyes snagged on a figure partially covered by the shell of a small cabana. His face was covered and out of the sub, but you would recognize those tattoos anywhere, the defined muscles beneath them. Seeing him laid out so leisurely—legs and arms spread as he dozed on his back, sweat making his skin gleam—made you blush.

Perhaps it would seem odd to some people, but sometimes you forgot your boyfriend was extremely attractive. You recognized that he was beautiful, of course. He had a gorgeous face with incredible features, but the Harry you were used to was sweet and caring and gentle. Soft, tender. This Harry was...he was just hot. Sexy. And he wasn’t even doing anything but lounging on a cabana. But he looked the way he did after they spent a couple hours in bed together. The thought made you blush even more.

Doing your best to reclaim your composure, you went over to Harry and the rest of the band and crew who were all lounging together. Sarah smiled at you and joked about the unrelenting heat, and you smiled back, though you were having trouble focusing now that you were closer to Harry. Setting your stuff down, you sat on the open spot on Harry’s cabana and poked his leg a couple times until he stirred.

“Was wondering when you’d come down,” he said, voice still thick with sleep.

Your mouth suddenly felt dry. He was your boyfriend, not a silly crush. Why did he have this effect on you still? “I—I was watching a documentary about the local flora and fauna.”

“Of course you were,” he said, grinning wide as if he expected nothing less. “Come over here and tell me all about it.”

You hesitated. Something about the heat was making your brain short circuit. You weren’t sure what you would do with Harry sprawled out like that. You looked around the pool deck, reminding yourself that you were far from alone. That seemed to ground you in reality once more.

“If you’re uncomfortable with all the people around, I understand,” Harry said, taking your quick glance to mean something completely different.

“That’s not it,” you reassured. You knew he felt bad about the lack of privacy in your relationship. “It’s just um...It might be a little hot, right? All—All squished together like that.”

Harry seemed to consider your point. “Mmm. You’re right. I’ll be back.”

You didn’t have time to utter a single word as he shuffled out and off of the cabana and headed for the pool. You watched as Harry slid in, quickly dunking his head underwater.

The sight in front of you could’ve come straight out of a movie. The sun seemed to set the droplets of water on Harry’s skin aglow, the muscles in his abdomen flexing as he pushed his hair away from his face, the strands darker than usual now that they were wet.

Your eyes followed the little drops of water down, down, down his body, catching on the strands of hair beneath his navel or disappearing beneath the band of his swim shorts.

There were no words, not a single one, to describe your reaction. Your skin felt fuzzy, mouth dry of all moisture and gaping at your boyfriend a little (later you fretted over whether anyone at the pool caught your reaction and posted it online). Your head was simultaneously empty and full of thoughts you should not have been having in such a public place, first of which being to pull Harry’s shorts down with your teeth—

“There. I’ve cooled down. Now come lay with me.”

There was really no other choice but to say yes.

Harry repositioned himself on the cabana, his arm open for you to press yourself against his side. The sensation of his wet body against yours that was nearly bone dry was a tad uncomfortable, but you didn’t care, not when one of his hands was high up on your leg and drawing patterns into your skin.

You tried to settle, tried to go through the diverse plant population of South America in your head to distract from his hands, his legs tangled with yours, your cheek on his broad shoulder, all the muscles he’d developed with this new work out regimen he’d been trying out recently. It was all going to your head, flooding your senses to the point where you had to close your eyes and try to drown it all out.

“You okay?”

Harry, bless him, didn’t have a clue as to what he was doing to you. Even his voice was unfairly husky, and it nearly made you shiver.

“I’m fine.”

“Sensory overload?” he asked, taking on a gentler tone, but that only made it worse. You wanted him so bad you could’ve screamed it to the whole pool. “If you want, we can go back upstairs and—”

“I’m fine, I promise,” you said.

Tilting your head up, you kissed him, hoping to satisfy the little monster writhing in your belly. For a moment, the slide of his lips against yours seemed to do the trick, but before you thought better of it, your hand was on his cheek to deepen it.

Harry wasn’t opposed at all. He hummed happily as he ran a hand through your hair, but when you broke away to kiss his jaw, leave a little mark behind his ear, his neck, he seemed to understand.

“So you do want to go back up to the room,” he mused. Harry held your chin in his hand, his eyes alight. “You could’ve just said so.”

“I don’t know what’s come over me. I think the heat is altering my brain chemistry, or—”

“Or,” he said, kissing your nose. “You just find me insanely sexy and are losing your mind over it.”

That’s exactly what it was, but he didn’t need to tease you about it.

Harry kissed you again, pulling away too quickly for your taste. “Don’t worry, my love. Happens to me too sometimes.”

“Really?” You didn’t mean to sound so incredulous, but Harry was...well he was on a different playing field than you were physically.

“Mmhm. You drive me absolutely crazy sometimes,” he said, right against your ear so no one else could hear your conversation. “Remember when you were mad at me because I kept leaving dishes in the sink?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “I was yelling at you.”

Harry shrugged. “And when I joined you for office hours that one time and you were being very stern with one of your students?”

You blushed. Harry had practically dragged you out of your office once the student was gone. Your office hours hadn’t even ended yet.

“That’s what...what,” your voice hushed to a whisper, “turns you on?”

He shrugged again. “We all have our things, and I like seeing you be assertive.”

A small laugh bubbled out of you as you hid your face in the crook of his neck once more, his skin warm once again. You took a moment to enjoy just laying with him in the sun, the scent of his cologne mixing in with his sun block and the chlorine from the pool. Your fingers found his hair, unclipping the hair clip so you could run your fingers through it briefly. The frenzy you’d been in had dissipated, and now you felt calmer, lulling yourself to sleep in Harry’s arms.

“Love,” Harry said, breaking the silence.

“Yes?” you half mumbled, your lips moving against his chest.

“I’m glad you’ve calmed down, but it seems you’ve transfered your horniness to me.”

Your eyes blinked open in an instant. Not moving from his chest, your gaze flicked up to his, blinking with surprise.

“Yeah. That’s not helping. Come on,” he said, voice tight. He sat up, bringing you with him. Harry quickly gathered his things and even grabbed your bag full of the books you planned on reading while you were out here before your brain turned to mush on you. They were only a couple hundred pages each, a quick read for you, so you needed multiple. Though now it seemed you would be starting them later.

Harry waved goodbye to everyone, and you did the same, anticipation coiling in your stomach with each step back to the hotel room.

When the elevator slid open to reveal the empty hallway that would lead you to the room, Harry picked you up. You squeaked, legs wrapping around his middle on instinct. Both of you were clothed, but heat emanated from your skin as if you were still lying in the sun. Harry kissed your cheek gently as he unlocked the hotel room, tossing everything in his hands onto the floor by the door as he shuffled inside. Clothes were off in an instant, but Harry didn’t seem to want to wait to get to the bedroom. Sitting you on the counter, he gave you one last gentle kiss. A pinch to your inner thigh was enough to tell you that was the last of his gentleness for a while.

[fentonphoto]

Able to get both flora and fauna at the botanical gardens.

[deadbydangit]

How would they help their s/o fall asleep when they're having a rough time?

Leon uwu, Ghostface, Pyramid head, Wesker

I actually have a prompt saved for this. But I guess I'll be writing it now.

With a Reader who has a hard time falling asleep.

Leon, Ghostface, Pyramid Head, Mastermind

Leon S Kennedy

Hard time sleeping huh?

Yeah, he's had those days before.

He has some PTSD.

So sleeping can sometimes mean nightmares.

He won't judge.

If it is nightmares, he'll lay your head on his lap.

Speaking softly he'll tell you all his fun experiences traveling the world.

Of all the beautiful countryside sides he saw in Spain.

Of all the pretty flora and fauna in South America.

Or memories the two of you shared.

His voice can be very soothing.

You'll be asleep before you know it.

If it's because you have too much energy, he'll take you for a run.

A long run.

You'll crash after.

Ghostface

Can't sleep?

Neither can he.

Let's stay up all night together!

It'll be like a sleep over!

First, he'll disappear for like an hour and come back with a backpack full of things.

Danny swiped snacks, booze, somehow a boardgame, and Caleb's gun.

How?

He won't say.

But you're having fun tonight.

What are you going to do with the guns?

Drink the booze, keep the bottles, then shoot.

Duh?

Everyone will be thrilled with you.

Especially Caleb.

He's pissed.

But you'll both eventually fall asleep in a sugar fill drink coma.

It was an enjoyable night.

Pyramid Head

He isn't a human.

So he doesn't need sleep.

But you are.

He isn't well versed in human health.

So he'll ask others who are.

AKA. the solution to any health question he has.

Sally.

She is a nurse.

After getting some ideas, he's standing before you with blankets, pillows, various teas, and candles.

He's going a bit overboard.

But it's because he loves you.

Pick a tea.

He'll start it while he lights the candles and makes a bed.

He likes to stroke your hair.

Kind of makes him calm.

And when he's calm, the world is calm.

You'll be asleep before you know it.

Mastermind

He doesn't need much sleep.

Uroburos provides him with all the energy he needs.

But you need it.

He'll sigh and pretend to be annoyed.

But he's really concerned.

He doesn't usually sleep in the bed with you.

He has lots of work to do after all.

But, for tonight, he will.

Only if you go to sleep.

He'll place you under the blankets before crawling in himself.

He'll pull your head close to his chest and wrap both arms around you.

He's really warm.

The sound of his steady breathing is relaxing.

He actually fell asleep before you did.

But, you finally got him to sleep with you.

That's a win.

[third-world-punks]

✦ THIRD-WORLD PUNKS ✦ INTRODUCTION

“Who are we? We are the global South, that large set of creations and creatures that has been sacrificed to the infinite voracity of capitalism, colonialism, patriarchy, and all their satellite-oppressions. We are present at every cardinal point because our geography is the geography of injustice and oppression. We are not everyone; we are those who do not resign themselves to sacrifice and therefore resist. We have dignity. We are all indigenous peoples because we are where we have always been, before we had owners, masters, or bosses, or because we are where we were taken against our will and where owners, masters, or bosses were imposed on us. They want to impose on us the fear of having a boss and the fear of not having a boss, so that we may not imagine ourselves without fear. We resist. We are widely diverse human beings united by the idea that the understanding of the world is much larger than the Western understanding of the world. We believe that the transformation of the world may also occur in ways not foreseen by the global North. We are animals and plants, biodiversity and water, earth and Pachamama, ancestors and future generations—whose suffering appears less in the news than the suffering of humans but is closely linked to theirs, even though they may be unaware of it.” — Boaventura de Sousa Santos, Epistemologies of the South: Justice Against Epistemicide.

We are THIRD-WORLD PUNKS, a blog devoted to cultivating a dark-academia aesthetic inspired by Latin America and the UK Punk Scene. I'm your host, PHILOSOPHIKA, a 33-year-old British and Colombian philosopher specialising in aesthetics (the branch of philosophy that studies concepts such as beauty and ugliness and investigates the nature of art and the senses) and anti-totalitarian ethics. Keep reading to learn more about the aesthetic's main goals, sources of inspiration, and suggested hashtags.

✦ OUR MISSION

To create a Latin American take on the 'dark academia' aesthetic from the perspective of the region's actual inhabitants. The T.W.P. aesthetic actively avoids depicting the region as a holiday destination (fruity drinks, trendy hotels, sexy pool boys, designer sunglasses, etc.) or representing the culture through a tourist's eyes (for example, as exclusively consisting of festivals or big public events). This aesthetic should provide the viewer with an intimate portrait of what it's actually like to call this region home. Images of local food, daily customs, traditional clothing, distinctive architecture, weather patterns, etc., are encouraged.

To provide a modern fusion between Latin American (principally Colombian) and UK culture that does not reproduce the aesthetics of British colonialism. To this end, the T.W.P. aesthetic steers clear of antique botanical prints, colonial uniforms, overly beige colour palettes, floral chintz wallpapers or decorative accents, leather trunks, and/or anything even faintly reminiscent of a plantation. Emphasis is placed instead on UK Punk fashion and culture (think Camden Market and Vivienne Westwood), extravagant and eclectic UK (& European) architecture and interior design, and Oxbridge academia vibes.

To challenge what traditional academia looks and feels like, as well as its core tenets (eurocentrism, US-centrism, elitism, abelism, etc.). The T.W.P aesthetic celebrates and encourages out-of-the-box thinking, ethnic and racial diversity, neurodivergent and LGBTQIA+ higher education experiences, as well as discussions of postcolonial, queer, and feminist theory, among others (think TWAIL: Third-World Approaches to International Law). Quotations, reading lists, book recommendations or reviews, and catchphrases along these lines are welcome.

✦ SOURCES OF INSPIRATION

— art deco/decopunk — art nouveau — solarpunk— steampunk — gutterpunk — latin american geography, flora & fauna — latin american culture — spanish colonial architecture — pre-columbian latin america — 70's & 80's uk punk scene — elements of cyberpunk — alternative fashion — maximalism — haute boheme aesthetic

✦ RELEVANT HASHTAGS

Do you want to tag something with this aesthetic on your blog? Check out the suggestions below:

#TWP —   #TWPs —   #TWP Aesthetic —   #TWPs Aesthetic | #Third-World Punks —  #Third World Punks —  #Third-World Punks Aesthetic —

[aphrogeneias]

Here's me asking you something I'm curious about.

What kind of native fruit grows near your home? I live in North America, and I am very ignorant about South America.

so, here's the thing. practically anything grows here (and by here i mean brasil, i'm not familiar with the flora of other south american countries, though i have travelled a bit) because the soil is very fertile, which is amazing and it gives us access to all kinds of fruit, but as for the native ones, i have some favorites.

these are pitangas:

they look like a mix between a tiny pumpkin and a cherry, and they're citrus-y. as a kid i used to just pick them off the tree and eat them, they're very tasty. i believe they're called brazilian cherries in english? pretty obvious why lmao

these are jabuticabas:

now, these are one hundred per cent brazilian, and they're great, they're kind of sweet, and they grow on trees as well. in my state, there's a whole city named after them.

the best part is that when someone has really dark eyes, or big brown eyes, my grandmother likes to use the term "jabuticaba eyes" to describe them, and that's exactly what i think anytime i look at eddie's eyes. pretty, jabuticaba eyes.

we also have açaí, which as far as i know has become pretty popular abroad a few years ago as a "super fruit", they're also native to here in the amazon forest (though that's very very far from where i live), and i love those too. pineapple, guava and passionfruit are also native here and near my stepmom's house there used to be a guava tree and me and my dad would go pick some every fall/winter and they're delicious, little bugs and all lmao <3

[carica-ficus]

Review: "Evil Roots: Killer Tales of the Botanical Gothic"

Authors: Nathaniel Hawthorne, Arthur Conan Doyle, Lucy H. Hooper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, H. G. Wells, Edmond Nolcini, M. R. James, Ambrose Bierce, Howard R. Garis, William Hope Hodgson, Edith Nesbit, H. C. McNeile, Abraham Meritt, Emma Vane

Editor: Daisy Butcher

Date: 03/01/2023

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

________________________________________________________

I think I ordered this book some time during summer, after I accidentally stumbled upon it on an online bookstore. I love anthologies and I love plants, so this title definitely intrigued me enough to order it. I finally decided to read it around Christmas and finished it during a recent trip, so it's officially my first finished book of the year.

"Evil Roots: Killer Tales of the Botanical Gothic" is an interesting anthology of short horror stories by quite a few well-known authors. From the creator of Sherlock Holmes, to the acclaimed writer of "The Yellow Wallpaper", all the way to the legendary H. G. Wells, this collections features some hidden gems of the late 19th and early 20th century. While the stories are certainly old-school, they could still be regarded as timeless classics and masterful creations.

Most stories revolve around the fascination of the exotic - of unknown plants that are in some way dangerous to humans (or other organisms) and which originate from far away places, like South America. There's mentions of exquisite poisonous flowers, murderous liana, mysterious wisteria, and the weirdest of them all - carnivorous plants.

It is interesting just how much the writers and, by default, the general public were fascinated by exotic flora which, in one way or another, transcended the known laws of nature. Plants were considered sedentary, passive, and at the bottom of the food chain, but as new discoveries were being presented and as more people, professionals and amateurs alike, from the western civilization started their expeditions in new places, society was being introduced with oddities that seemingly didn't follow any established rules. So while the horror in this collection is displayed through various flora, the true horror is derived from the simple fact that humans fear what they cannot understand. One of the most frightening things a person, especially a scientist, can experience is realizing that they will never be able to fully predict nature's capability to adapt and to evolve.

Of course, this theme goes hand in hand with the understanding that it is dangerous altering the natural order of things. While this could also be understood as criticism to the human tendency to play god, there isn't much religious commentary throughout the collection. The stories are centered around ecology, evolution, and biology, highlighting how humans shouldn't meddle with something as powerful as nature - which they will never fully understand, let alone be able to control. Even though the writers do create a feeling of dread through the fear of nature, the horror is actually realized through characters that underestimate its abilities and that have the need to disfigure nature in order to measure their own capabilities.

Furthermore, this collection highlights the uncomfortable fascination western civilization had with other cultures. The urge to study new exotic phenomena on their own accord, to test the limits of human science on something they don't fully understand with little to no regard of the laws of nature and the test subject's true needs, is somewhat perverse. These scientists are conducting experiments in uncontrolled environments, and playing with their test-subjects in order to test their own abilities and knowledge. It is a portrayal of poor research. They're acting out of curiosity with little to no regard of the consequences. It is not their subjects that are evil, for they have been brought up and mistreated in an environment completely unnatural to their habitat, but their tormentor, who butchers them through extreme studies. This is usually evident through a secondary character, most often a colleague, who tries to stop the scientist in their mad experiment before it's too late. The horror is, therefore, found in the abuse executed by the brazen oppressor, not in their vicious, abnormal creations.

The fact that the aforementioned themes barely scratch the surface of all the ideas featured in this collection, prove how layered and compelling all the featured stories are. The editor also did a marvelous job with a lovely foreword and an intriguing introduction to each of the authors and their respective work. Of course, as with every short story collection, not all works are equally strong, but "Evil Roots: Killer Tales of the Botanical Gothic" is still a gorgeous anthology and a noteworthy testament to a relatively overlooked category of horror.