#tribal furs

[fitbearcatcher]

Hairy beast

[burningpoisonroaster]

The forest seems endless, the amount of ladies countless.

[puppy-slut-pound]

Darkdread my beloved

[bearzebaa]

The aluring jackal herself, Scarlet's the leader of entertainers in the tribe of Vatua, in charge of training her subordinates. Every ritual she's in charge of is bound to be perfect.

[the-froschamethyst4]

Viking! König

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Viking! König Headcanons

NSFW

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Viking König who starts making sharper weapons to slaughter his enemies

Viking König who has a soft spot only for his wife. You came from a different village, one that König is known for “collecting their tax” for his protection. You were part of an arranged marriage because your family couldn’t pay him, so you where the payment

Viking König who won’t let anything happen to you. You both grew to love each other

Viking König has a bit of that dad body with a bit of muscle to him

Viking König who is covered in traditional tribal tattoos for his bravery as a warrior and clan leader

Viking König who lives kind of secluded from everyone else but everyone knows where to find him if anything happens

With that being said Viking König like to take baths in the river with you naked joining him in the same river you both washing dirt off each other and it leads into something more

Viking König has started to like walking around his home naked or half naked and likes for you to join him

Viking König who loves seeing your face, moaning his name or placing your small hands on his lower stomach knowing he is way bigger than you and you look sexy as hell under him

Viking König who’s favorite position is missionary because he loves seeing your face while you are under him taking him so well

Viking König who carries you on his arm showing you off in a way, you are all giddy when he flexes and you are slightly raised up

Viking König who treats you like the Queen or Princess you are. You sit on his lap in the great dining hall with the entire clan. He let’s you eat from his plate that was more of a feast than anything

Viking König who eats you out on the big table with the clan members acting like nothing is happening

Viking König loves being home and sees his wife walking around the home nothing but bare skin

Viking König who loves you laying on the warm furs on your shared bed

“How could you look so beautiful?” You just shrug at his comment

Viking König who loves seeing you get off with nothing but your fingers, your warm bodies finally getting close to each other and he starts to help you out

Viking König who hates being interrupted while his time with you

“Someone better be dying!” König yells.

Viking König who is intimidating, buff, cold, ruthless, and cruel, the little time he has with you and it gets interrupted by someone he’s pissed

Viking König who sits on his throne as a traitor was amongst his clan

Viking König who lets the traitor take an axe to the face and head and then goes back to you

Viking König who starts wanting a child

Viking König who takes his time with the baby making till you were comfortable with the idea of having to carry a baby around in you for 9 months

Viking König who treats you like you were glass. His hands always holding you as you tried to move around the clan

Viking König who scares off all the man who thought you looked even more sexier when you were pregnant

“How dare they look at you?” König growls while looking down at you

“I’m okay, König,” you tell him, patting his arm.

Viking König who becomes a tad jealous of your baby always latched to you

Viking König who is seen as the best father

Viking König who takes your sons hunting for the first time. He shows your son how to shot a bow, it started out with fish and he made his way to start hunting turkey and deer next

Viking König who sees your daughters making things out of leaves and flowers. Flower crowns, and woven baskets, he like carrying them around for her as she collects her materials for more things to make

Viking König who sends his kids to bed early because he loves to have his time with you, making love to you and kissing every square inch of your body just hear your soft moans

Viking König who loves having date night in a stream of water naked with you, you two drinking and it became very heated in the water

Viking König who likes to play with his children, having a lot of kids and he spends all of his time with them the best her could

Viking König who gets caught in the middle of his daughters braiding his hair, putting flowers in his hair, curling his hair with pinecones and they pretended to give him more tattoos

Viking König who plays 'hide and seek' with his sons, showing them how to not get caught by the enemy and how to be sneaky when also hunting.

"I found you Leon," König says, pointing an arrow at his son hiding behind a tree.

"Dad~" he groans, coming out from behind the tree.

"I saw you Claus," he comes out from the tree, that Leon was behind.

"Felix, go wash up, your mother will hate seeing you covered in mud. If I can see you, your enemy will too," König says as he walked back to his home with his boys behind him.

Viking König who starts training himself to get ready for when he has to leave you and his children for a battle

Viking König who hates when he has to leave, he's leaving you to handle 5 kids on your own

Viking König who started a big feast before he has to leave

[perroso]

I like the look of a cute little demonic pig it's from the game called "tribal hunter" I would love it to fill me with food like in the game

[millustracoes]

Been working on another character concept. What do you think of it so far? I think this is my favorite design. Pity it’s for such a big ol’ meanie

[running-with-kn1ves]

Could you do Orc Tribal Leader X Reader on your wedding night?

A/N: I SWEAR I'm literally just writing the same stuff over again b/c I had a story just like this, but you know what I never get tired of it because its like a top fantasy bro. Hope this one was better than that version at least

Content warnings: Forced Marriage, kidnapping, attempted escapes, nonconsensual touching, infantilization of reader  

Synopsis: Your village, destroyed and burned. Your life picks up somewhere you would never have imagined. Maybe, death is a better option than being an orc’s spouse. 

Word Count: Approx. 2600 

The autumn solstice was a bountiful, beholden time of year. From the greeneries of cabbage and the fowls hatched in summer now fully grown, there was much to be harvested and ripened for the taking. Your town was boisterous, full of life with a variety of competitors and businesses attempting to lurch at any tourist’s or local’s wallet to get them to buy countless crops, meat, and woven goods.  

Your tiny tea shop, suffering from last July’s drought, was finally starting to perk up with re-growth. Black tea, jasmine, bergamot, even hybrid blends like crushed raspberry and chamomile-- you could assemble enough to raise prices, label the small reaping as an imported foreign good luck charm that when drunken, blessed women with marriage prospects and men with wealth.  

That was, before however, you became bound and gagged to a chair, pleasantries being exchanged around you in a language harsh in your ears. The fires... You remember them well, the putrid stench of charred meat from the butcher next door, his body even more ablaze. Your jade boxes of fine silk bags meant for holding gifts of tea, becoming laden with ash and dust. Every scrap of money you saved up under the floorboards disappearing into floating particles and melted coins.  

“Brutes,” Your uncle called them, “deranged beasts with only two things in mind: bloodlust and greed.” 

Orcs were not well-received in a conservative, fearful town of humans. Even the elves, seen as symbols of beauty in mortal standards, were causes of paranoia and irritation whenever they made their rounds nearby.  

It was no wonder that the lines of tusked, olive-fleshed creatures in animal skin were spotted, the guards of your small city went on a rampage. Bows and arrows were no match for iron bones and teeth of steel.  

You, were no match for anything wider than a tree trunk. So when fire caught to your village, your home now rampaged for its finest ‘offerings’ to the orcs, you were left to be eaten by the licking flames. And yet, was it a blessing or a curse that one of the warriors decided to haul you on his back, doting on how “nicely you’ll do” as a wedding gift. You didn’t realize that the gift was to be part of the ceremony yourself.  

With smoke in your lungs and your eyes blurred by dirt and ash, you watched the ceiling cave in on your tiny tea-filled shack, bright orange and red dancing from behind the window panes as you drifted away.  

Daraktan is spoken all around you, harshly and with flicking tongues. You can hear snippets of English, wondering what’s going on behind the black veil covering your head. You don’t dare remove it, recalling what the orc woman, supposedly your now husband’s ‘mother’ telling you in your native tongue.  

“Touch this, and you will surely die. My alfhild will remove it, when it is time.”  

And so, you wait. Digging your fingernails into your palms, crying quietly in heavy furs and leather, the occasional hand coming to pull your shaky one to their mouths, kissing the tip of your index finger.  

“Aka’magosh..” They mumble to you, seemingly more at the body to your right. 

The calloused hand of someone much larger than you, whom you have assumed is your husband from his constant appearance nearby, occasionally comes to grace your back, to rest a hand on the top of your head, to smoothen your veil or the soft fur shawl on your legs.  

His hearty laugh hurts your ears, the jingles of the metal jewelry he adorns constantly making noise as he shifts.  

“Please..” You whisper, praying, to whoever may be listening. Why you? Why, out of all the fair, eligible humans of your town, were you picked out from the rubble to be “saved”? To be married to a faceless orcish man, who would surely break you in half before morning? 

The bitter cold of coming winter brushes against your legs. You can feel that you’re not inside wooden walls, and yet unnatural lighting seems to shine through your veil at times.  

“Omulork, I think I will take my… wedding gift, to be with in solitude.” 

Loud, deep laughs fill the room, the guttural voices of female orcs being swallowed up by uncountable numbers of warriors surrounding you. Your body shivered as a gust of wind blew in, the autumn breeze barely being kept at bay from where you sat.  

“Enjoy the festivities, shedzvagas!”  

His unique husk leaves everyone in the room to cheer in their orcish language, tough and painful pats coming to your back, the festive shakes to your shoulder nearly making you topple. 

That same heated, abrasive hand comes to grab your roped wrists, lurching you firmly, yet gently from your place on the ground. Panic started to fill your stomach as it rose to your chest, the warm aura of an orc next to you radiating to heat you from the chilly weather outside.  

Now. It was now or never. You didn’t want to think anymore what he would do to you when you were alone, when you had no one to cry to for help.  

Your feet moved before the thought finished crossing your mind. Your hands shook as you stumbled in a sprint forward. You passed thick bodies as you ran blindly, making it a mere five steps before a pair of meaty hands grabbed you by the hips. 

“A feisty one, Gar’mak!” The sounds of the orc woman who forced you into your wedding attire spoke up, a drunken laugh leaving her plump lips. “Alfhild, better not leave it out of your sight.” 

You hated how clear the English they used was to your ears, how human they all sounded, how when they spoke in your native tongue-- it was meant for your ears. She wanted you to know, to let the fear soak into your chattering teeth.  

The orc keeping you captive merely laughed, tossing your weightless body to his shoulder just like he had done when pulling you from the cobble of what was left of your tea shop. 

You screamed, biting down on what you could reach from under your veil. But the salty, thick flesh from beneath you was aloof, offering no reaction as a double pat was brought to your buttocks.  

“Now now, Djenifor, don’t fuss.” Gar’mak mused, each step he took forward making your body thump against his. He held a tight grip on you, not caring for the scratches you layered his back with. “I won’t try to hurt you… I will keep you safe, try my best to keep your fragile body in one piece.”  

The coldening night air was a drastic change to the room of heavy body heat and weighty movement where the wedding ritual and festivities were held. Now, it was quiet. You could hear the loud chattering begin to drift, songs and chants rising again as they once had when you were unceremoniously married to your new ‘husband.’  

Gar’mak patted your butt again, moving down to rub at the back of your thigh with a gentle, firm rhythm. He seemed to hum to himself, satisfied with the nights events. Scored himself a spouse and the treasured belongings of a human town.  

He must be pretty proud of himself, you seethed.  

The tears were beginning to sting the corners of your eyes, frantically scratching at the orcs back when you felt the warmth of an enclosed area meet your skin.  

“No, no--” You began to kick, trying to shove off the arm holding you steady on the orcs’ shoulder.  

“Settle down now--” Gar’mak ordered softly, putting you down on the fuzzy ground. You managed to hit his face, the hard scrape of tusks scratching your hand as a firm nose nearly cracked your knuckles.  

The orc went silent. Quiet in rage, he rips your veil away with a grip hard enough to tear hair out if he so desired.  

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the dimly lit tent, lanterns glowing at the corners as the mass of a creature leers over you. You forgot just how… big, orcs were. From afar they looked small, bigger than a human, but no threat due to distance. But now… he was above you, twice your height, twice your size, twice if not thrice everything. His palm the size of your skull, his eyes gleaming and looking over your body, weak with exhaustion and fright.  

Small, intentional scars were placed under his auburn eyes, some kind of tribe symbol you were sure. Thick eyebrows furrowed at the way tears decorated your cheeks, the exhales from his flat nose blowing hot breath on your chest.  

“Please, I, I can’t, I don’t belong--” You fumble over yourself, trying to slide back on the floor of soft wolf and caribou furs.  

“Shh, shh now,” The orc puts a hand to your ankle, an action that jerks you to a stop. “I won’t hurt you, lebam…” 

You sincerely doubt that, but the sentiment sounds genuine from his broken, baritone voice. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, pulling slowly with immeasurable strength at your leg. You slide towards him with little strain, even with your muscles going rigid for you to stand your place, your fingernails digging into the ground beneath you.  

You shake out your name, reluctant to give it.  

“Ah. What a human name; a scared wee human, aren’t you?” 

You don’t dare to respond, waiting for the sound of your snapping ankle. 

“They call me Gar’mak, though that may be too difficult for simple human brains. Mak is fine, little Djenifor…” 

You don’t want to call him anything, to refer to him at all-- yet, he looks keen to hear you say it. There’s an expectation in his eyes, a flick of his giant tongue against his lips.  

“Mak..” You mumble, trying not to gag.  

“Yes…” The orc’s hand frees your leg, caressing up to your cheek as he wipes away a forgotten wet stream of tears.  

“Please, just let me go--” You beg under your breath, scared of the way he seems to be eyeing your knees, your frail neck, your round ears.  

“You know that’s not going to happen,” He doesn’t seem angry at you for asking, just… Sorry. “We are bound forever now; even the gods couldn’t tear us apart. Wherever you go, I will find you. Whenever I leave, you will feel me gone. By sunrise tomorrow your scars will be given, and you will become one of us.”  

The panic begins to settle once again in your stomach. Maybe, tonight, yes-- tonight, if you could escape. You could-- just maybe you could find a way, past their all-seeing eyes, their all-hearing ears, escape to the mountains they took to get you here. 

 “But can’t you change it back?” Your voice cracks, expression twisting into an ugly cry as you feel thick fingers dig into your hair. “Just, we can go back-- just let me be…”  

You sob for what feels like too long, hours maybe, Gar’mak’s eyes never leaving you as he pulls you to his thigh. He brings a cotton blanket to your legs as he shushes you, the tenderness of his eyes a foreign sight compared to the façade he forced you to endure during the night's festivities.  

When your cries had turned to miserable, quiet sniffles, a muscled knuckle finds its way under your chin. He turns your head to look at him, eyes red and droopy as you try to think of any method of escape.  

“You’ll learn to like it here, human.” Gar’mak thinks for a moment, caressing your leg with a single finger.  

 “We are far more civilized than your kind-- far more… Fair. You’ll be treated well. The spouses of warriors do not go unfed, unbathed. Unloved, most of all. You will be cherished; I will cherish you, as long as you let me.”  

The orc grips your jaw in his hand, firm enough to where his fingers made dimples in your cheeks, but softly to where you felt like a mouse in someone’s closing palm. A kiss was planted to your temple, your body pushed deep against your husband’s as he holds you close enough to suffocate. You wait for him to choke life from you, and yet it never comes. He is harsh with his touches, but not harsh enough to hurt.  

“Please, let's finish tonight how it was meant to go, hm? Let me hold you…” He murmurs, all soft and lamblike into your ear. It sends shivers down to your soles, hot breath layering your neck as he looks at your lips with such intensity.  

You fear saying no, but the word rises up to your throat.  

It doesn’t make it out in time. Lips engulf yours, the stiff coldness of bone-colored tusks brushing against your face as Gar’mak holds you tight. Just one kiss is enough to make his demeanor act up.  

Your unassuming, comfort-driven spot on his lap is altered swiftly. You find yourself straddling the orcs’ waist, a hand pressed against the back of your head as your tied hands remain useless against his chest.  

You don’t know whether to speak, to scream, to bite at his lips-- but you remain flexile, afraid of the rough hand holding your skull so tenderly, the other gripping your thigh to wrap around his flank. You’re like a resistant doll, licked lips becoming tender as the orc pushes against you with such tenacity.  

You see his eyes open, staring into your wide, unblinking ones. They seem to communicate more than just lust-- its desire, desire for your reciprocation.  

Gar’mak waits… he kisses you, eyes narrowed on standby for your submission. They’re hazy and make you wonder if this is enough to make him release his brutish side, the part that showed no mercy for your neighbors or your home. What would happen, if you broke away or dared to claw at him?  

That thought doesn’t stay for long, not when the tough hand on the back of your head moves to your neck, squeezing just enough to bruise.  

You wince, lips pursing in reaction just in time for his next tongued assault.  

That slight opening of your mouth, the press of your lips against his, is all he needed. You find yourself twisted beneath his body as you’re brought to lay on the furry floor, the orc lying above you.  

“That’s right, I’ll be soft Djenifor… just do as I command, keep smelling so sweetly for me.” 

Scars litter his shoulders and collarbone, metal necklaces and piercings dangling on his olive-green, lightly haired chest as you fear how much it would take for him to crush you.  

He’s so quiet, letting go of your mouth as the orc’s curled tongue licks a slow, wet stripe down your jaw. His hands grab your thighs to wrap your legs around him, intent on keeping you steady and so close you practically breathe the same air.  

Before he leans to kiss you feverishly again, the orc brushes your cheek with his knuckles, petting down the amalgamated fabrics you wear to commemorate your wedding.  

 “You’re so lucky I found you first, that I had saved you from that rubble without layering an extra scratch; my brethren would not be so kind.”  

He kisses your cheek, a soft, hungry grin playing on his plumped and tusked lips. “So stay pliant like this for me, wee human, and you won’t feel any pain.” 

You lay rigidly, squeezing your eyes shut as a tender, all-consuming kiss eats you up, preparing you for the night’s affairs.  

[diejager]

what would eldritch reader vs some other eldritch person look like?

[A cheese wheel has been added to your inventory.]

[A cheese wheel has been consumed.]

Opposition Cw: blood, gore, death, cannibalism?, tell me if I missed any.

Despite old-age rivalries and ancient hostilities, to fight a Lord for One’s territory, the bloodshed and animosity shared between many, and the death of a ruling, primordial being, they had forgone the older ways, taken to learn and study humans and monsters alike, especially the sudden emergence of hybrids, a perfect cross between human and monster, one that rivalled the flawlessness of Old Ones. You were one of those that sought change, to live and prosper farther than in their imagination, their faith and their fear. You wanted something substantial, tangible under your clawed, see thing you could taste and touch, more than the pleas and cries.

Most had left their territory, travelling wherever the wind blew, some ventured far and high, drifting from the country they were born to new colonies —the Caribbean or the Thirteen Colonies in the West of the great Monopolies of the 17th centuries. You rarely strayed outside familiar lands, presiding over a small stretch of land in Europe, it was familiar, comfort. It was a decision many agreed with, those you crossed would peer at you, a subtle nod of their head and they’d be gone, vanishing when someone broke your contact; gone along the wind, leaving only a whisper of their existence in monstrous words too high for human and monster ears.

Perhaps that’s why it felt odd to fight another one after centuries of peaceful coexistence, to throw yourself into the fray, broad and towering over the trees, beak snapping at the canidae entity and talons gripping their paws, claws threatening to rip into your feathered body. You felt stretched, rusted with joints creaking and bones groaning, too old and too tired. This Entity was young, a few centuries old, with a wolf-like appearance and a character that fit a mutt more than it would a being of such prestige. They were chaotic, acting recklessly and without thought, you needn’t ask it their age, it was written all over the scarless skin and brutish acts.

Rather than fighting for land, coveting wealth and fine metals that humans loved with greedy hands, you took on the wolf for protection, the ward of your small family, under a dozen with years of bloodshed and violence under their belt. The 141 had a mastery in different skills, utilizing what they did best to push on, to fight and survive to see the next sunrise, but even hybrids had limits, where their great feats and insurmountable reputation were useless against something of old; be it young or primordial, Eldritch beings had little predator, prey to their own kind but rarely from another.

You clashed with the Wolf, standing on muscular, hind legs ruffled with dirtied fur, blood staining the greyish hair; a strong tail swaying carelessly, cutting trees down with a rough swing; a well-defined abdomen painted with a tribal tattoo, gleaming with a gold light, portraying the image of a holy symbole on a blasphemous being; sculpted arms holding back your own feathered ones, hands bleeding from your talons; and a wide mouth, silver teeth bared in a loud growl, the sound near deafening to you. It was strong and well-trained for something born in times of peace, body built to it’s peak and mind sharpened to ignore every distraction, but you were from the old, racking up more experience and wisdom it could only dream of wielding.

You were defending the LZ, standing between the Wolf and it’s mission of killing those it could kill, beings weaker than it. The only thorn in their mission was you, the lone Entity that engaged it. The Wolf hadn’t been told that the TF had an Old One, primeval in every sense. It struggled against you, your more monstrous figure compared to their tamed one, their creation stemming from some wild fantasy of the Middle Ages, when France feared the human eating wolf.

You screeched as loudly as it growled, voice gaining in force, a cacophony of screams and cries slipping from your tongue, the fears and terror of beings that brought you to life. Spreading your second pair of limbs, you slashed at it, digging into the soft skin of it’s abdomen, tearing away fibres of muscle and warm fat. It yowled, struggling to pull away, frantic at your shift of tactic —fearful that you decided to attack than defend your group. It stood on the single probability that you wouldn’t engage, preferring to protect than fight with the risk of endangering your family.

The Wolf would die today. Your grip was unyielding, keeping it in this situation however much it tried to squirm away, hands prisoners of your first pair of wings and chest bleeding from your second. Before long, it would be another body added to your count, cooling and gutted on the forest ground. You swung your tail around them, wrapping once around their slim waist, adding further leverage over it while you dug their intestines out. The strong stench of blood, metallic and tempting, filled the air, bringing fearful tears to the Wolf’s eyes, beady, yellow eyes growing hazy.

You revelled in it’s slow death, your thirst for violence growing with the ages of peace, strung tight like an itch that bothered you incessantly. You hungered, you couldn’t remember the taste of Eldritch meat, the rich ambrosia in the veins or the last whip of their dying breath. Your beak cracked open, white teeth gleaming inside your black mouth until they were dirtied, stained red with the blood of an Entity, you clamped down on it’s neck, breaking the rough skin with enough force to shatter bone, but the Wolf had tough bone. That would only prolong it’s suffering, the pain feeding you as much as the meat and bone would —a delicacy of the ages. You wonder how König and Ghost would think of Eldritch flesh.

You wouldn’t need to eat for another month after this buffet.

Taglist: @warenai @capricorn-anon @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143

[burningpoisonroaster]

the ritual

[whencyclopedia]

The Nerge: Hunting in the Mongol Empire

The peoples of the Mongol Empire (1206-1368 CE) were nomadic, and they relied on hunting wild game as a valuable source of protein. The Asian steppe is a desolate, windy, and often bitterly cold environment, but for those Mongols with sufficient skills at riding and simultaneously using a bow, there were wild animals to be caught to supplement their largely dairy-based diet. Over time, hunting and falconry became important cultural activities and great hunts were organised whenever there were major clan gatherings and important celebrations. These hunts involved all of the tribe mobilising across vast areas of steppe to corner game into a specific area, a technique known as the nerge. The skills and strategies used during the nerge were often repeated with great success by Mongol cavalry on the battlefield across Asia and in Eastern Europe.

Hunted Animals

The Mongols, like other nomadic peoples of the Asian steppe, relied on milk from their livestock for food and drink, making cheese, yoghurt, dried curds and fermented drinks. The animals they herded - sheep, goats, oxen, camels and yaks - were generally too precious as a regular source of wool and milk to kill for meat and so protein was acquired through hunting, essentially any wild animal that moved. Animals hunted in the medieval period included hares, deer, antelopes, wild boars, wild oxen, marmots, wolves, foxes, rabbits, wild asses, Siberian tigers, lions, and many wild birds, including swans and cranes (using snares and falconry). Meat was especially in demand when great feasts were held to celebrate tribal occasions and political events such as the election of a new khan or Mongol ruler.

A basic division of labour was that women did the cooking and men did the hunting. Meat was typically boiled and more rarely roasted and then added to soups and stews. Dried meat (si'usun) was an especially useful staple for travellers and roaming Mongol warriors. In the harsh steppe environment, nothing was wasted and even the marrow of animal bones was eaten with the leftovers then boiled in a broth to which curd or millet was added. Animal sinews were used in tools and fat was used to waterproof items like tents and saddles.

The Mongols considered eating certain parts of those wild animals which were thought to have potent spirits such as wolves and even marmots a help with certain ailments. Bear paws, for example, were thought to help increase one's resistance to cold temperatures. Such concoctions as powdered tiger bone dissolved in liquor, which is attributed all sorts of benefits for the body, is still a popular medicinal drink today in parts of East Asia.

Besides food and medicine, game animals were also a source of material for clothing. A bit of wolf or snow leopard fur trim to an ordinary robe indicated the wearer was a member of the tribal elite. Fur-lined jackets, trousers, and boots were a welcome insulator against the bitter steppe winters, too.

Continue reading...

[marxism-transgenderism]

Wait unrelated to anything other than how bad Wikipedia can be related to my own research, any Wikipedia pages for the Indigenous history of the midwest sucks so much ass. Scanning through articles on like the fur trade or inter tribal relations youd come away with this impression that in the 17th century the Haudenosaunee (nearly always called the Iroquois) plundered and subjugated every single village from the bay of lake Erie to the Ohio river and depopulated the whole area in a gigantic empire with all the citations being books written from the 20s to the 60s. And like the Haudenosaunee did raid in the area but there is no archeological or documentary evidence of this GIGANTIC are ever being fully depopulated (most cite a single instance of some French traders in what's now Wisconsin meeting Miami people who migrated from the wabash River valley and nothing else) but most modern evidence points to changes in centers of trade for causes of population movement and we have good reassessments of the evidence going back over 20 years so it's not like this is some cutting edge research that just has yet to be updated. It's just that a narrative of near total depopulation done by other indigenous people prior to American settlement in the region works a lot better for the self appointed local historians who actually edit and write those Wikipedia pages

[makncheese12]

Omg

Fallen Angel R x Wednesday and she sees R literally fall from the sky

That’s actually a good idea omg.

Masterlist

A/N: I actually like this omg(bare with me English is not my first language🥲 I’m getting help from my friend to edit it)

Warnings: my writing, slight language, falling

Wednesday Addams x fallen!angel Reader

High risk

“Welcome to the quad!” Wednesday’s blonde new roommate stares, arms open as they step outside.

“It’s a pentagon.” The brunette states matter-of-factly as she looks through the open area of students.

The area full of hormonal teenagers only souring her mood further as some notice her presence and stare in interest as they both step out.

Enid rolls her eyes before turning to the girl. “The whole snarky, goth girl thing might have worked at normie school, but here things are different.” The blonde says with a smile before turning to walk.

“Let me give you a wiki on Nevermore’s social scene.” Wednesday huffs out, keeping her face straight.

“I’m not interested in participating in tribal adolescent cliches.” She replies following after the girl. “Well, then use it to fill your obviously bottomless pit of disdain.”

“There are many flavors of outcast here, but the four main cliques are the Fangs, Furs, Stoners and Scales.” Enid continues as they both continue down the turning hall way.

“Those are the Fangs, AKA vampires.” She gestures to a table full of pale students with sunglasses on, some drinking out of small bags full of red liquid.

They turn their heads at the mention of vampire, a few hissing quietly making Wednesday subtly cringe back at the horrible attempt of a threat.

“Some of them have literally been here for decades.” She finishes making some smirk and nudge at a girl in the middle who rolls her eyes.

“That bunch of knuckle heads are the Furs, AKA werewolves. Like me!” A series out howls are let out at the mention of their name. One jumping on the table in the process.

The boy then jumps off the table and pushes his friend playfully.

Wednesday watches the boy catch himself from falling and let out a loud laugh before he pushes his friend back making him stumble into a nearby table where you sat. The table full of crows on top as you pull crumbs out of a small brown paper bag, dark wings sprawled out as you do so. He slightly trips over your wings and your body stiffens up

A loud hiss like snarl is heard making the boy turn quickly to defend himself from its source.

“And that is Y/N L/N,” the blonde says watching you stand quickly. “What the hell! Are you trying to break some bones?” You ask, teeth bared at the bushy haired boy who too lets out his own growl.

“Maybe you should pick them up from off the floor.” He says baring his teeth at you. “Or maybe you should just watch where you step.” You say angrily, practically hissing at the boy making some of your feathers fluff around.

“I wouldn’t need to watch my step if you kept them where they belong.” He says in an insulting tone which only causes the crows around you to flap their wings and caw around.

Wednesday watched with amusement as you both continued your argument. “Y/N’s clique is.. well, her own. She’s the only one of her kind here, she does tend to hover around the scales though.” The blonde mumbles watching as you step closer toward the boy.

He also takes a step forward, coming nose to nose with you as some of his pack members step up while the others decide to stay down.

At least some of them know better than most not to get in the way of a former angel.

“Back off.” You growl, eyes quite literally darkening to a darker shade of crimson as you glare up at him. His features are a mix of anger and fear as he stares down at you, not knowing what to do or say next at your angry state.

“Why don’t you just go back to hell, it’s where you clearly belong.” He throws another insult making your eyes narrow and dark fist clench.

“Hell is where your going, I’ll make sure of it once I’m done with you.” You say before a gasp from enid could be heard.

Everyone knew angels kept their promises, even if they were banished to the depths of hell.

You were playing a dangerous game, werewolf against angel would leave most of the area destroyed if you decided to play around with him before decided to take the victory.

The silent threat in your eyes is enough to send the group of wolves gathered behind him back to their table, tails between their legs by the sudden change of atmosphere and sudden eerie quietness the crows have.

The boy stares down at you, searching for something even he didn’t know before rolling his eyes and turning on his heels. “I’m starting to see why they kicked you out of heaven.” He throws one last insult before going back to his table, quickening his pace at the sound of your hiss.

Werewolves, always needed to last word or hit. It made your eye twitch and your clenched hand to puncture your palm, drawing a small amount of blood.

Your eyes then suddenly look around the quad, watching as the eyes that were once on you snap away at the sudden eye contact.

Your eyes then land on Wednesday, noticing the way she doesn’t flinch nor look away. Just simply stare back.

You stare for another moment, eyes scanning her over before they slowly go back to their normal color and your feathers lay down from their frenzied state.

“Y/N L/N!” A voice booms through the quad making you flinch and roll your eyes before they land on a teacher in the main doorway. “My classroom, now.” He calls before turning around.

You scoff before marching off after him, the pathway already clearing as students move out of the way.

“She’s not that bad,” Wednesday hears enid says making her eyes snap from the door way to the blonde. “She’s actually really cool once you meet her non-angry side.” She says, a smile on her face at the memories you two had shared.

Wednesday doesn’t react as she continues her way through the hall, the blonde quickly on her heels as she does so.

“Im assuming scales are sirens?” She asks, eager to get this whole interaction over with.

————

The sound of howls echo through the school hallways and any surrounding area keeping most of Nevermore’s residents awake.

Some watching their favorite shows, others having friends over, hell they were even walking around at the late hour. Anything to drown out the consistent sound.

You scowl at the sound yourself and push your wings to flap harder as the air pressure begins to drop making your lungs burn, craving the regular air that it was so used to.

You take another deep breath before passing the cloud line.

You wish you could say you were used to it but that’d just be a lie. The only reason the burn grew was because you were going higher, closer to the place you were specifically locked out of.

It was like a barrier, or rather a cage made by god himself to keep you inside and trapped for eternity.

You wish you could break the barrier and see what it was like. What the feeling would be like in your lungs when you got inside. Would you be able to breath or would your lungs explode like any normal human?

You wished you could find out.

Not that you didn’t try, you did. And you passed out in the process, you were forced to regenerate in hell for a few years after.

Once the burning truly began to hurt you stop, flapping your wings to keep you in your position. The sound of the howls now faded into the back ground.

You look down to see Nevermore through the dense clouds, light barely breaking through them as they pass.

You let out a sigh of relief, the cool air whipping across your face enough to feel like you had just been slapped.

A feeling you liked and were fond of.

It showed the moments before you got to feel the pure bliss of the air blowing past your wings at an alarming rate.

It’s what you craved.

Right before you could let go, you heard another sound.

It was almost louder than the manically barks and howls running through the woods, it sounded far better too.

You crane your ears a little more to hear it better.

Music. You had decided. The sound of different chords getting louder then softer then louder again as it continued on through the song.

It piqued your interest. Yes there were plenty of musically instrument players around the large school but none were quite that good let alone played the Cello.

After making the decision to find the owner, you allow your wings to stop before leaning your head back with a smile on your face.

Your wings — now fully relaxed — float above your body, flapping around mindlessly as the wind blows past you. Clothes ruffling about, hair coming undone and flowing all over the place.

It was peaceful, knowing you would be able to catch yourself and avoid your demise. You could do it all day and never falter.

Wednesday watches thing turn to the last page, he strikes becoming stronger. Encouraged by the thought of finished strong when something catches her eye in the moon and faint light from the school.

She doesn’t allow herself to falter as she finish the piece before looking into the sky.

She sees a figure, falling at an alarming rate from high in the sky. Large wing flying around before straightening out and twisted their owner through the air

They dive into the tree line before she could see anymore and she could only assume who it was. The angry bird she had yet to meet throughout her day in Nevermore, never even getting a glimpse of them.

What a strange sight to see. Not everyone can just fly up and allow themselves to fall. Who in their right mind would?

She would if she could, it seemed like a enjoyable thing to do.

She lets out a sigh before closing her eyes and breathing in the cool air and howling once again echoes through the school once again.

Her brows crease at the noise, it was worse than Enid’s loud pop music she has yet to get used to. Her grip on her Cello tightens slightly when another round of bowls rang through the air.

This is where she found her peace, or was at least before she stopped and the wolves could be heard again.

When she had to clear her mind she would play her Cello, the lines and chords being the only thing on her mind.

After todays events, it’s what she needed.

She lets out another breath when the air suddenly picks up making her shiver very slightly, the cold feeling uncomfortable yet bearable.

The sudden movement of paper and tapping causes Wednesday’s eyes to snap open to be met with a still dark figure hunched over and pirched on her dorm patio railing.

Blood colored eyes piercing into her own.

It was like two Gargoyles staring at each other, both unmoving and unblinking. The other refusing to falter while waiting for the other to.

She took the chance to look at your features more clearly up close in her peripheral view.

Your wings black as night yet sprinkled with white fading feather like stars, blackened skin leading up your forearm before fading into the natural skin color, skin littered with scars in different areas. Hair, wild and untamed while your clothes did the same.

She would have kept inspecting if it weren’t for Thing who slowly crawls from behind her music holder.

You’re eyes snap to him and he almost shrinks back behind it.

“What is that?” You ask, head tilting slightly. The resemblance to a bird being quite exact, Wednesday thought to herself as her eyes shifted between you and Thing.

“That is Thing.” She says, taking offense for him as he sits on her nub and waves.

Your eyes open slightly more as you wave back, clawed fingers wiggling at the him. Your eyes quickly go to a lighter shade of red in the process.

“Cool,” you say watching him jump off and climb up the railing.

You had never seen anything like him, in all your years you had seen every creature created yet nothing like him.

You wondered if the devil himself was the one who created him instead of god.

“A pleasure to meet you, Thing.” You say, reaching out with an open palm. He inspects your hand for a moment, hesitating when seeing your long nails making you chuckle.

You force your nails into the flat ones that humans have and he jumps slightly.

He taps around excitedly turning to Wednesdays then back to you, taking your hand firmly making you laugh.

“Quite the handshake you’ve got.” You say and him tap, unknown to what he was saying before you look back to Wednesday.

“This isn’t your dorm.” She tells you as if it weren’t obvious with the large window to Ophelia hall.

“I know,” you say throwing your legs over the side and allowing yourself to plop down on the railing. “I was just taking a little stroll when I heard you playing.”

“If falling from the sky and almost to your demise is consider a ‘little stroll’ I think I would enjoy that.” Wednesday says, your smile grows giving her the sight of your top fangs.

“Trust me, you would. So,” You start before glancing up to their large window. “The loud and open girl roomed with the new dark and mysterious girl, how unfortunate.” You say, referring to Enid who forced her way into being friends with you.

“Yes it’s insulting, really.” She replies crossing her arms. “The colors burn my eyes, I sometime wish to gauge them out with a spoon every time I enter our room.” She says, remembering how only hours ago she almost strangled the girl and destroyed her music.

You chuckle lightly before looking to your right to see Thing, poking at one of your wings. “I see it now, ‘fallen angel’.” She says referring to what she had witnessed a few moments ago.

“Who would have thought being damned by god himself would be so fun.” You laugh at the irony of the situation, being a fallen angel and enjoying the feeling of falling from the sky.

“You must have done something horrible to do so.” She says and your smile fades.

Your face contorts, subtly. From anger and then to sadness. You didn’t know how to feel about your odd situation.

Your father was the one to do something, you were just a tag along.

“Perhaps,” your head tilts up toward the sky allowing the moon the kiss your skin. “Or maybe someone did it before I could.”

You mumble the last part but Wednesday catches it along with the sadness in your voice as a crow lands next to you.

“Caw!” It screams out making your head look down once again, your smile returning in process.

He perched next to you , head tilting almost upside down as you pull out something wrapped in a brown bag.

“Why were you falling from the sky?” She asks, the question blunt yet not blunt at the same time.

You pull out a lump of bread before breaking a small piece off and hand it to the Crow. He quickly snatches it before jumping a few feet away to eat it.

You chuckle at the sight before humming in response to her question. “I just like a little high risk.” You reply and her heart skips a beat for a moment, too quick for her to question yet doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You must not be fully sane then.” She says and you snort. “You don’t seem like you are either, nor your family from what I’ve heard.” You state before your face falls. “No offense.” You apologize with a small grimace at your own comment.

“None taken, I like to think that a compliment.” If your smile could grow even more than before, it definitely did just now.

You look back down at the bird who jumps back toward you, hopping up and down in excitement. Your eyebrows knit together for a moment, clearly deep in thought before you speak up again.

“I never caught your name.” You say as you take your index and middle finger and rub it down the back of the crow.

“Me or the bird?” She asks seriously making you bark out a laugh. “Crow.” You correct her before he could grow loud in offense by being called a bird. “But you, this is Atticus.” You say and the crow caws out multiple times before settling down again.

“Wednesday.” She says and you nod, humming to yourself before looking toward her away. “How unique for a unique person.” You say, head tilting like the crow next to you.

Wednesday suddenly feels her heart racing at the the sight. Strange.

“I don’t think I caught yours either.” She says watching as Thing and the bird come hand to face on the railing, inspecting each other.

“Y/N.” You say head tilting back once again to look at the sky. “It’s for some reason modern to the year.” You say, eyes full of question as you continue to stare up.

“Tell me, Wednesday,” your eyes once again meeting hers. “Have you ever met an angel?” You ask and she knits her eyebrows together.

“No.” She replies and you nod. “Good, their horrible creatures who should be damned to their own personal cages.” Your voice is suddenly tense and full of hatred as you look up again.

The question confused her, why would you ask that just out of the blue? The question was a random one but you also seemed to be with your sudden appearance.

Before she could ask what you meant the window opens and her bright roommate steps out.

“Oh, hi Y/N! What are you doing here? It’s not Thursday.” She questions as she quickly skips toward you in excitement. “And hello to you too, Atticus!”

The crow caws and hops closer, allowing the girl to scratch under his beak.

You smile at the reference to your weekly manicures the girl gives you. She insisted your long nails were too creepy without any polish and you agreed to allow her to paint them black.

“I was taking a stroll and met your new roommate here.” You tell her and your eyes travel to to Wednesday who continues to sit in her chair.

“Or did you just try and scare her like the rest?” Enid eyes you suspiciously and you raise your hands in defense.

“I would do no such thing.” You smile as the girl rolls her eyes. “You’d be shocked at how unfazed she was, I was sure I would get her.” You grumble, further proving the blondes point.

“I highly doubt that.” Wednesday mutters as she begins collecting her things. You chuckle, glancing toward the woods noticing the sudden silence.

“Well, sounds like your little furry mongrel friends have finally quieted down.” You state standing up in your spot, glaring towards the woods. “I think I’m gonna go up one more time before bed.”

“Okay, have a good night! Don’t fly too high.” She replies with much enthusiasm about your nightly routine and you smile. “I will. Goodnight,” your eyes then travel to Wednesday and you smile even bigger. “Goodnight, Wednesday.”

Her heart continues to race, the feeling very different from beating of fear. That she enjoyed, this feeling she did not.

Quick, angry sounding taps are heard next to you and you chuckle. “Goodnight to you too, Thing.” You laugh before leaning back and letting yourself fall.

Atticus caws a few times before following after you into the air.

A/N: definitely imagined this song while falling in your circumstance of being a fallen angel

[15-lizards]

Ok so i know you did wedding fashions for most of the regions of westeros already but what about the other ones like the north and the vale or the islands. Also the crownlands could be interesting because its a mishmash of westerlands/stormlands/reach/targs and also just plain opulence because royal weddings!!! (Lowkey asking about all these as reference for the multiple ocs rotating in my head at all times. Im a SUCKER for wedding scenes)

Let the wedding bells ring

Northern brides in Kokoshniks are very serious business to me. I like to think they’re leftovers of a pre-heraldic time, when the north was more tribal and clan focused. Certain shapes of the headdress and the size signal what your status is, and the types of jewels inlaid in them and embroidery done is indicative of what part of the north a woman hails from. This heralding of what family you came from carried over into the modern era, becoming more elaborate and taking on different shapes as noble houses began to appear and shaped their own identities separate from that of their original clan. Loose, heavy, long sleeved gowns are traditional bridal wear as well, from a time where a woman might be married in winter, and it became an old wives tale that a northern woman who marries without the traditional garments will freeze to death before the wedding.

Marriage is when a girl becomes a woman, so in my mind in the Vale, a brides wedding day is when she starts to cover her hair. Bc covering your hair from the winds of the Vale is for noble wives who have duties to attend to and no time to fuss over trivial things. Letting your hair down and be tangled and caught is for silly little girls who don’t have any responsibilities. Essentially a rite of passage. I also think that a leftover from when the Vale was only made up of mountain clans is the gifting of a fur to the bride that the groom hunted himself. It used to mean that the man could provide for his new wife but now it’s an old tradition where a man may or may not hunt the animal himself. And it’s another tradition for the woman to use the fur in her bridal gown and for a swaddle for her future children

Marriage for an iron islander woman is particularly important because it’s one of the few instances where she can wear bright colors and pretty things without being ridiculed. She’ll wear her house colors instead of her husbands bc her fathers pride comes first ofc. A bride and her female relatives will probably make their jewelry for the wedding, protecting the bride with prayers to the drowned god carved into beads and bracelets. And any metal she might wear comes from her fathers stash, anything he paid the iron price for and wants to show off on his daughter. It’s part of her dowry too, so for a man to give away a particularly flashy piece of loot is considered very rich behavior

And ofc Kings Landing is a conglomerate of basically everything. Obviously westerlands style is currently the most popular and influential, but there are still fashions from all over the seven kingdoms and beyond being incorporated into weddings. What a woman wears all depends on her age, her homeland, whether or not she adheres to traditions, how modest she is, how rich she is, etc etc etc you get the gist. But rest assured it’s usually going to be over the top

[xx-emi-chan-xx]

::Biographical overview::

Name: Karui

Age: 17

Relative(s):

Unnamed parents (†)

Mohatu (uncle)

Nickname(s):

Pouchmaster

hopscotch

Lady Hops-a-lot

tough-roo

Species: Kangaroo

::Physical Description::

Gender: Female

Height: 120cm (4 ft.)

Weight: 31 kg (68 lbs)

Fur: Beige, brown, creamy white

Skin: Peach

Eyes: Gold

::Attire::

Short green/yellow Poncho

Dark brown sports tape on arms and legs

distressed gray crop top

traditional tribal skirt

green with yellow details hair scarf

::Alignment and character traits::

Alignment:    Neutral

Affiliation(s): Kangaroo clan

                          Resistance (formerly)

Favorite food: watermelon

Likes:

Protecting the nature stone

martial arts

fruit

meditation

rainy days

Nature

Exploring

Dislikes:

Strong sunshine

Big cities

Being tricked or betrayed

Dr. Eggman and his robots

Dr. Starline

Being thought of as weak

Being questioned

Being called ''long legs''

Being left alone

::Skills::

Geokinesis

Enhanced agility

Enhanced durability

Superhuman jump

Acrobatic skills and reflexes

Hand-to-hand combat skills

Kickboxing Mastery

Bōjutsu

Cause devastating earthquakes with a single thump of her tail

Ability type:

Power type

::Appearance::

Karui is a beige-furred, anthropomorphic kangaroo with gold eyes, a small brown nose, and a white-furred muzzle with black painted stripes under her eyes. She has triangular ears with creamy beige-colored canals on top of her head and brown markings at the tips of it, one short eyelash on each side of her eyes, and a long tail. She has back-length hair that resemble Knuckles' quills done up in a high ponytail with a tribal green scarf tied with yellow details and a few large bangs on her forehead.

For attire, Karui wears a distressed gray crop top stitched which revealed her midriff, a sash that wraps around her skirt made out of shredded Pandanas and layered Tapa. She also wears dark brown sports tape on arms and legs. Up that all she wears a green poncho with yellow details just like her scarf tied.

::Personality::

Karui is a tomboyish, tough-as-nails warrior. Initially, she was a bit of a loner and somewhat defensive with strangers; being quite combative, outspoken, stubborn, and impulsive.

However, she eventually warmed up to the concept of friendship and became more sociable and positive as a result of her new relationships. Showing that through her tough exterior lies a heart of gold, and underneath it all, she's a girl who would do anything for her family and friends.

::Powers and abilities::

Geokinesis/Terrakinesis: Karui has the exceptionally strong elemental ability to create, control and manipulate the earth and other earthly substances and materials; such as sand, stone, rock, dirt and mud. She can hurl and lift boulders, generate earthquakes, mudslides, avalanches, fissures, project spikes of stone from the ground and tunnel through the earth.

Karui often transports herself and others by riding on a large slab of earth. She can change earthen matter from one state to another (such as shifting mud into solid stone). When using her powers, her hands will emit a yellow aura. She generally uses the motions of her hands to navigate her powers, though she can move earth through sheer concentration alone.

Bōjutsu: Karui was trained by her uncle, Mohatu, in the use of the bō, in which she twirls, swings and stabs like a spear. Her Hardwood Bo fight style is more on defense than offense, she makes use of her bō's versatile nature to block as well as counterattack. Despite this, she also able to deliver powerful strikes.

::Weaknesses::

Suffering from mild hemophobia, Karui get uncomfortable when faced with blood. If the amount of blood is large, she may even faint.

She also suffers from Pagophobia, an extreme fear of ice, which is perhaps her greatest weakness after having a near-death experience with it.

Her behavior also proved to be a problem most of the time, causing her to make irrational decisions.

::Backstory::

Before being dominated by the Eggman empire, Karui had been born in Mystic Jungle, to the northern kangaroo tribe. There were legends about their species that said that many centuries ago, kangaroos were blessed with the physical presence of mother nature on earth; a deity of light who traveled across the globe and watched over the many different environments she would encounter.

Along with its inhabitants, she kept all of nature in balance and the natural cycle of life under her protection at all times. After traveling the world, she'd sleep inside a giant tree for a full thousand years, where she regains her power to spread energy across the planet and in turn, would regenerate that energy and release it to spread new plant life in the surrounding area while she was unconscious.

Inside this tree, this deity would transform into a small, vibrant green stone while in her sleep period. After a thousand years had passed, she would return to her original form and remain awake for seven days before settling on another planet and sleeping again. She would do this process with all the planets she had passed before aswell.

It was then that one day the kangaroo clan found this giant tree and decided to build their civilization around it, treating it as their guardian and deity for a long time. But there were others who tried to invade and take over the deity stone that rested inside the tree and the clan always got involved in wars and conflicts to prevent the power of mother nature from falling into the wrong hands, and this lasted for generations.

It was then that half of the clan got tired of all this and of so many conflicts over a ''plant'', but the other half of the clan disagreed with this thought and wanted to continue protecting the tree, which caused a great conflict between its members, and the kangaroos who disagreed with this way of life separated from the northern tribe, creating the southern tribe.

Years after this incident, when Karui was 7 years old, she had gone on a hunting trip with her uncle, Mohatu for three days, without imagining what would happen. When they returned, they found their village completely destroyed and the tree in pieces with several robot wreckages lying around, with no survivors in sight. Mohatu searched the rubble for any sign of survivors or the stone, but found nothing until Karui called him towards her home. There her parents were dead, but inside her mother's pouch glowed a green light that they immediately recognized as the nature's stone. Mohatu deduced that his sister, Kya, had found the stone amidst the chaos that had occurred and hid it in her pouch, a place no one would think to look. After that, Mohatu decided to leave with Karui, along with the stone to the southern tribe, hoping that their former companions would have mercy and let them live with them.

::Relationships::

Mohatu (her uncle): Karui's relationship with her uncle, Mohatu, is the cornerstone of her life, shaped by both tragedy and unwavering support. After Eggman's ruthless attack on their village, which left their entire tribe decimated, Mohatu became Karui's guardian, mentor, and sole family. The destruction of their home and the loss of their loved ones created a deep bond between them, one forged in the fires of adversity and strengthened by their shared determination to survive.

Mohatu, a seasoned warrior and master of Bōjutsu, dedicated himself to raising Karui with the skills and resilience needed to navigate their harsh world. He trained her in the art of combat, teaching her how to wield the bō staff with precision and agility. Through grueling training sessions, he instilled in her the values of discipline, strength, and perseverance. Yet, beyond the rigorous training, Mohatu provided Karui with a sense of stability and love, offering wisdom and comfort whenever she struggled with the weight of their past.

Karui, in turn, held immense respect and admiration for her uncle. His unwavering strength and commitment to her well-being became a source of inspiration. Despite his stoic exterior, Mohatu's deep care for Karui was evident in every lesson and every word of encouragement. She cherished the stories he shared about their tribe, learning about their rich history and traditions, which fueled her desire to honor their legacy.

Their bond was not without its challenges. Karui's impulsive nature and desire to prove herself often led to clashes with Mohatu's more measured approach. However, these moments of tension were always tempered by their deep mutual understanding and love. Mohatu saw in Karui the potential to become a great warrior and leader, while Karui found in her uncle a pillar of strength and a guiding light.

Together, they navigated the hardships of their world, always looking out for one another. Mohatu's guidance helped Karui embrace her powers and her role as a protector, while Karui's unwavering spirit reminded Mohatu of the resilience and hope that still remained within them. Their relationship, built on a foundation of shared pain and enduring love, became a testament to their tribe's unbreakable spirit and their commitment to each other.

Knuckles the Echidna: Karui and Knuckles share a dynamic and multifaceted relationship, characterized by both camaraderie and fierce competition. As kindred spirits with a shared tribal heritage and warrior mindset, they quickly became close friends. Their bond was built on mutual respect and an understanding of each other's strengths and weaknesses. Despite their friendship, Karui and Knuckles are highly competitive, often engaging in intense tests of skill and strength. These contests range from sparring matches to feats of endurance, each one more challenging than the last. Karui's geokinesis and mastery of the bō staff, combined with Knuckles' formidable strength and combat prowess, make for thrilling battles that push them both to their limits.

Unbeknownst to Karui, her feelings for Knuckles run deeper than friendship. She finds herself drawn to his unwavering determination and sense of duty, and she admires his dedication to protecting the Master Emerald. Their interactions are a blend of playful banter and serious rivalry, with each trying to outdo the other while secretly cherishing their moments together. This undercurrent of unspoken affection adds a layer of complexity to their relationship, making their journey together all the more compelling. As they continue to challenge and support each other, both Karui and Knuckles may eventually come to realize the deeper bond they share.

Sonic the Hedgehog: Karui's relationship with Sonic the Hedgehog is a complex blend of camaraderie and rivalry, earning them the label of "best frenemies." When they first met, Karui's guarded nature and distrust of strangers clashed with Sonic's easygoing and friendly demeanor. She found his carefree attitude and relentless optimism grating, while Sonic was intrigued by her tough exterior and fierce independence. Their initial interactions were marked by friction and misunderstandings, with Karui often questioning Sonic's motives and abilities.

Over time, however, their relationship evolved. Sonic's persistent kindness and genuine desire to help others slowly chipped away at Karui's defenses. She began to see the depth of his character, recognizing the determination and bravery that lay beneath his laid-back facade. Sonic, on the other hand, came to appreciate Karui's loyalty and unwavering commitment to her friends and family. Their shared experiences in battle and moments of mutual support forged a strong, if unconventional, bond between them.

:Friends/allies:

Amy Rose

Big the Cat

Blaze the Cat (friendly rival)

Chaotix

Charmy Bee

Espio the Chameleon

Vector the Crocodile

Miles "Tails" Prower

Cream the Rabbit (good friends)

Silver the Hedgehog

Vanilla the Rabbit

:Neutral:

Tangle the Lemur (fan)

Whisper the Wolf

Team Dark

E-123 Omega

Rouge the Bat

Shadow the Hedgehog

Babylon Rogues

Jet the Hawk

Storm the Albatross

Wave the Swallow

:Enemies:

Deadly Six

Master Zik

Zavok

Zazz

Zeena

Zomom

Zor

Dr. Starline

Eggman Empire

Badniks

Cubot

Dr. Eggman

Metal Sonic

Orbot

Metal Virus

Surge the Tenrec

Zombots

[buckyscombatboots]

Monstertober Day 2:

My Legacy

Pairing: Orc!Bucky x Captured!Reader

Warnings: Non con→Dub con, Dead dove: Do not eat, insults/degrading language, forced breeding, forced impregnation, drastic size difference, belly bulge, blood mention, virgin!reader, hair pulling, cowgirl→mating press, dacryphilia, dark!bucky, threat of violence, aphrodisiac

Nicknames: Tiny, little one, cum slut

Word count: 2.4 k

Monstertober master list

Master list

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This has been long awaited, I know everyone loves Orc!Bucky, me too honestly. Enjoy.

A colossal, herculean man loomed over you, he was built from slabs of muscles that shifted under his thick layers of green skin. His bulging forearms, decorated with tribal tattoos, half concealed by a pair of tanned leather bracers, lined with fur; the designs carved into the leather matched his ornate iron pauldrons, slightly covered by the reddish-brown pelt of a direwolf, and the only thing covering his lower half was a loin cloth attached to a metal belt adorned with his tribe’s insignia. His eyes narrowed in a scowl, but despite this you could see his golden eyes, with flecks of amber and a vertical slit for a pupil—reminiscent of a cat's eyes. They were trained on you, hunched between the cart and barrels “How unfortunate Tiny. Should have hid better than that.” His meaniscing tone sends a ripple of goosebumps across your skin, a scream bubbles up to your throat and dies there as he reaches out for you. You scramble away from his enormous juniper hand, the lighter skin of his palm filling your vision before he opts for grabbing you by the waist and pulling you out “Gods above I can smell chu ‘ittle one. You’re terrified out your tiny little brain, but you're still so wet for me. If you play nice, I won’t have to hurt chu.” You consider chomping down on the web of skin connecting his thumb and forefinger, but Orcs are known for their tough skin, you decide not to. You stare up at the monster before you through your long lashes, tears streaming down your cheeks “Good, Tiny human. My true name is too complicated for your kind to understand or pronounce, so you can call me Bucky. I am War chief of this clan of Orcs, it will do you well to listen or I’ll pass you to the others. They ain’t too kind to little tiny girls like chu.” He begins to walk with you, pushing you to his beefy chest like a mother holding a baby close, your hands grab for purchase at the direwolf pelt strung across his shoulders; the feeling of the fur in your hands and the familiar scent brings you solace as he carries you over to a large group of orcs, one with blonde hair turns towards Bucky smiling with his tusks on full display, you cower at the sight—you know exactly what those tusks can do, you’ve watched them tear people like parchment “Steve, I’m going to head back to camp with a small group. You stay here. Kill any survivors, pillage whatever’s left, return by nightfall.” The Orc named Steve nods and replies in a strange serious of grunts, to which Bucky also replies in the same manner. They he’s walking again, he stops infront of an orcish warhorse—specially breed to be taller and stronger than normal horses to with stand the sheer size of the orcs— then he climbs on with you held in one arm

“Where are we going?” You whisper near his ear

“To your new home ‘ittle one.”

The ride back to the camp isn’t a long one, you slept for most of it as your adrenaline finally died down or you’d fallen into a state of shock. At this point you had no idea. When you awoke you’d arrived at what he called ‘your new home’ There were countless Orcs, they barely used any of their troops to conquer your village. The feeling of hopelessness rose in you once again.

“‘ere we are, Pet. Home sweet home.” He got off the horse and handed the reins off to another orc to be taken care of. He spoke to the orc bostriously with enthusiasm, smiling so wide you thought one of his tusks would like your eye out. Then he strode off decisively through the thicket of tents. He was taking you home, to his home. Not yours. He burnt yours down, he murdered your family. You hated the fact that seeing him smile and talking so happily, despite you being unable to understand what he was saying, made you happy. His attitude was contagious.

You approached a tent that was much larger than the others, it was also dyed a faded black compared to the other plain tents. It had two lit torches on each side of the pegs keeping it up and on the tent door was the same insignia that was on his belt, but this was painted in red—the colour of blood which he was so accustomed to spilling. You had to hate him, you needed to hate him.

He pushed aside the cloth entrance revealing a very spacious tent decorated in a sporadic manner with a large table that had a map splayed on its surface, your eyes shot down to all the red markers on it. One was on your village. They had planned this and nobody knew, fresh tears welled up in your eyes and you bit your wobbling lip, but a whimper still slipped. “This is your new home princess,” he wiped the tears from your eyes with one of his thick green fingers “so don’t cry anymore. It’s all gonna be okay. If you listen, everything will be fine. Now,” he placed you on the ground and walked over to a pile of things in the corner. He turned to face you before pulling out a shotel from behind him, but this shotel was the largest one you’d ever seen; the blade was unbelievably sharp, it was obvious that he’d spent hours sharpening, cleaning and customising it. Your legs collapsed beneath you as he pointed the curved blade at you, the point resting below your chin. Tears leaked from your eyes like a flowing river, you let out a whine as he hoovered it so close to your skin that you could feel the coolness of the blade “Move and I’ll cleave your skull in half. Understood?” Your vision shook as you meet his steely glare

“Y-yes.” You blubbered, he removed the blade and pulled out a chair from the long oaken table. The chair was much larger than a normal chair, obviously hand made for orcs by orcs—no scratch that, handmade for him. The chair was even bigger than all the others, it was made for Bucky, it was made for the war chief who towered above even other orcs. He plopped down in it, the twine holding it together creaking under his substantial weight, and opened his legs slightly clapping his massive bejeweled green hands down on his muscular bulging thighs.

“Come ‘ere little one. Sit on my lap.” He commanded, spinning the shotel on its blade on the hard packed dirt next to him. When you sat frozen, on the floor, he raised the blade towards you “I know you ain’t deaf. I don’t like repeatin’ myself.” You pressed your hands either side of your thighs and pushed yourself to your feet, your legs shook as you stumbled over. He extended out a massive green hand, you took it noting how your hand could only wrap around two of his fingers. Your line of sight travelled down to his dick. It was huge. Straining against the thin fabric of his loincloth. Straining so much that you could see all its features; dark green with lighter sections of skin, ribbed, with a thick gold ring pierced through the thin skin just under the head. There was no way he’d fit.

He helped you climb onto him, practically pulling you up by your arm which was dwarfed in his grasp. You straddled his lap, sat right in front of his bulging cock. Once you were in place he undid the opulent belt keeping the loin cloth in place and pulled. With one swift movement the belt and the loin cloth were both removed and thrown to the ground. His member was now on full display; girthy, long and definitely not able to fit inside you. You paled at the sight of it throbbing and leaking “It won’t fit!” You cried, attempting to run. He grabbed your arm just before you fel to the ground and pulled you back in place. You struggled against him, floundering like a fish drowning on land “Please! Anything else! You’re gonna kill me!” His hand clasped around your face as he reached back with his free arm and came back with a hefty glass bottle filled with a shimmering clear liquid.

“Breath, Pet. I ain’t expecting it to fit in you without a little help, little one.” He uncorked it with one hand and finally removed his hand from your mouth, you relished in the woodsy scent. He poured a generous amount on his hand “Take yer clothes off. Or I’ll rip ‘em off.” He ordered sternly, you met his gaze. His cat eye pupils had blown wide, filled with lust and need. You obliged, stripping off your dirty, torn clothes that smelt heavily of smoke. You swallowed your vomit as you recollected the state of your village.

His huge green hand began slathering the liquid on your pussy, it was warm. The heat coming off of the orc had heated it in such a short period of time, your eyes met his cock again. The heat of it was slightly darker green with a bluish cast, his balls were heavy and full. Your mouth was almost watering. You were pulled from you from your blatant ogling from the sting of a finger being inserted inside you. You yelped, grabbing at his thick wrist with your small hands “It hurts!” You yowled, beating at his calloused palm with your fist, he began moving his finger and the pain slowly melted into pleasure. You hummed at the heat filling your belly “Mhmn.”

“You’re a virgin aren’t you little one, there’s blood.” He cooed, slipping another finger. Which your quivering hole gladly took. You nodded slowly, whimpering as he stretched you, scissoring his fingers “Were gonna fix that. The Oil is enchanted, it should help you be able to take me, it’s also an aphrodisiac.” His words swam in your mind becoming almost meaningless as you pushed back on his fingers until you met his rings at the base of his thick, lengthy fingers.

Suddenly he pulled his fingers out, you whimpered at the loss humping his thigh for friction. You needed more. You wanted Bucky in you “Buck. Want you in me.” You mewl, grinding your sensitive bud down on the thick skin of his thigh

“Gladly.” He lifts you as if you weigh nothing and holds you above his dick, smiling coyly at your lopped sided grin and hazy eyes before slamming you down on his fat cock. The pain momentarily breaks your gaze but then the overwhelming feeling of his humongous prick filling your insides. Your hands travel to the bulge in your stomach, running your hands over it. Marvelling at it as he thrusts in and out. The meaty slaps of Bucky bouncing you roughly up and down on his lap filled the tent, more likely than not the sound was spilling outside. You didn’t care, right now you didn’t have the liberty to think much at all with his fat cock muddling up your insides. Your tongue fell dumbly out your mouth as you dribbled mumbling and moaning with every harsh thrust “That’s it, Pet, go dumb on my massive Orc cock. Never gonna want a human after this, they can’t fill you up like an orc. How pathetic. You deserve an Orcs cock to bring you this. Much. Pleasure.” He punctuated his words with his thrusts, bashing your cervix each time. You threw your head back in a silent wail, digging your nails into his large pecs as you relished in the orgasm that wracked your body. Constricted his cock, drawing a deep, primal grunt from his core “Yes! Come! Come as many times as you want pet, soak my cock in your juices my little cockslut. Gonna get you pregnant, gonna paint you fucking tight little slut hole with my seed. Gonna watch you swell with my children. Take it.” He groaned slamming into you with a new found vigour, picking you up as he stood.

You barely even registered him laying you on the bed until he pushed back your knees, resting them near your ears. You thought it impossible but he dick managed to nestle itself even further inside of you. An electric shock ran through your body as you came again, the pleasure being tears to your eyes as his thrust became more erratic, more powerful. His face loomed above yours staring intensely into your eyes “Gonna make you a mother, Tiny. You want to be the mother of my children? You want to grow with my child? You want to birth My Legacy?” He asked, “Answer me.” He demanded pounded into your cunt, his balls smacking against your ass, twitching, as he pushed down on your bent knees.

“Yes! Make me a mommy!” You cried, squeezing around him as he came inside you, he continued to thrust as he shot ropes and ropes of cum into you. Your stomach swelling with the sheer amount of spend shooting from his spasming tip.

“Ah feels so fucking good. Look at you, your body can barely contain my cum.” He chuckled, huffing, sweat glistening on his forehead as he littered your reddened face, ruined with tears and spit with passionate open mouth kisses.

“Felt good, wanna nap.” You yawned, your body tremouring from the overstimulation, your clit puffy and sensitive as his pelvis pressed into you enrolling you completely, blocking out almost all the light in the tent.

A hearty chuckle emerges from him, the sound fills your ears making more slick drip from your cunt onto his cock still buried in your overflowing pussy “Oh, we ain’t done yet, Pet. Gotta make sure you’re nice and pregnant, gonna fuck ya till I make ya look pregnant; so everyone knows who you belong to, that I have claimed you and that they can never touch you. ‘Cause you’re gonna have my babies, I’ll keep you filled and wanton on my cock ‘cause we Orcs mate for life after all, Tiny, and I’ve chosen you to be the bearer of My legacy.”

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