#and have to survive in the predatory world around them
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literarystarfish · 23 hours ago
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“W-who are you?” The blindfold heightened Whumpee’s every other sense. Their own voice sounded too loud in their ears.
Not even the sharp metallic taste of blood in their mouth or the strain in their arms that were tied painfully tight behind them or the rough gravel digging into their knees where they had been forced to kneel could distract them from the sound of their captor.
Their shoes clacking against the ground in a slow, predatory circle the only thing they could focus on. The sounds echoed off the walls making it harder to focus on where the person was as they circled them like a predator.
Were they sat in the middle of a garage? A warehouse? It seemed like some kind of large, empty room. They hated that they could feel nothing around them but the cold draft sending shivers up their spine.
It was hard to tell how close or how far away their kidnapper was.
“You don’t remember me?” Whumpee froze.
Close. Their attacker was close. Too close. They hadn’t realized the sound of their footsteps were getting closer. The echoes and the blindfold cinched over their eyes and ears made it too difficult to pinpoint.
They stood right behind them. Their voice low in a terrifying whisper. “I’m a little saddened by that, Whumpee. How could you forget me?”
“Whumper…” they breathed in disbelief.
Whumper chuckled, sending a different kind of shiver through them. They tsked in that easy, teasing way they did when Whumpee had really pissed them off. Like they were hiding their real anger behind their calm. That was always when Whumper was most terrifying. If they were calm.
“After everything we’ve been through, you just forgot me? We’ve spent so much time together in the past. Hours and hours. You always seemed to love when I visited. You were always begging for more. Or… were you begging me to stop? You know, after a while it was hard to understand what you were saying at all. You always did have to work on your mumbling. Got you in quite a bit of trouble before.”
The easy threat sounded like death to Whumpee’s ears.
Perhaps they already were dead.
After all, Whumper was dead. Caretaker killed them when they had rescued them. Whumpee saw them die. Whumper can’t be here. They can’t have captured them again. Dragged them off to who knows where.
Maybe Whumpee had died in that attack on the street. It hadn’t been a blindfold over their eyes taking their sight before their vision had gone completely black. No, it was death taking them.
And they’ve met Whumper in hell.
It had to be.
Because…
Because…
“You-you’re supposed to be dead..”
“You didn’t think it’d be that easy to get rid of me, did you?”
“C-caretaker killed you! I-I saw you!”
“They managed to get a good hit, I must admit. Much better than a weakling like them had any business getting on someone like me. They had taken me off guard, though. But it was very… satisfying… to return the favor.”
Caretaker’s face flashed through their mind. Scrunched with anger and desperation and terror.
Beaten.
Bloody.
Being pulled away from them, kicking and screaming as two masked people jumped them. A third attacker getting a nasty hit on Whumpee, rattling their world as their arms were wrenched behind them and a blindfold covered their eyes.
Caretaker had been with them when Whumper had kidnapped them. Caretaker had been attacked too.
“NO! Caretaker! What did you do to them?!”
“My, my. You’ve certainly gotten bold in your time away from me. I don’t remember you being so… loud.”
“What. Did. You. Do to them?!” They ground out between clenched teeth.
“Pity. We’ll have to do something about that unruly behavior again,” Whumper sounded less than impressed. Their non-answer only spiked Whumpee’s anger more.
“WHERE ARE THEY!? What have you DONE to them?!” Their uncharacteristically strong voice echoed off the walls. Even being back in Caretaker’s hands for a while now, they had not felt this willful in years. Not since Whumper kidnapped them the first time.
“Nothing they can’t survive, I’m sure.” Whumpee could hear the scoff in Whumper’s voice. “Stubborn, that one. A real thorn in my side. I couldn’t really kill them though, as much as I’d have liked to. I simply incapacitated them for a while.”
Whumpee bristled despite their fear. Their voice dropped menacingly as they growled “Where are they?”
“Oh, that’s the good part! I had my guys take them back with them. I’m sure they’re keeping them safe.” Whumpee’s heart squeezed when they remembered Whumper’s two right-hand men. Ruthless and strong. And incredibly loyal to Whumper. Whumpee has plenty of scars to remind them of those two. ‘Safe’ was a relative term with them.
“I wanted some time alone with you. See how you’ve been since Caretaker took you from me.” Whumper gave a dramatic sigh. “I see they’ve taught you disobedience. I suppose I’ll have to beat it out of them too.”
“Don’t. Touch. Them.”
“No, no. That would ruin my plans. If I remember correctly, threatening them was a great way to keep you in line. Only now I don’t have to lie that I have them under my control in order to get what I want. In fact, I’m sure you’ll have front row seats to hear their screams if they’re in the cell next to you.”
“No! Don’t hurt them! You wanted me! You have me! Leave them alone!”
“Ohhh, now,” Whumper tsked again. “That wouldn’t be any fun. I think it’ll be quite interesting to see who I can get to break first. Especially if it’s to ‘protect the other’. What do you think, Whumpee?” Whumper chuckled, their voice light. Teasing. “What would you do to stop their screams? Hmm? What would Caretaker do to stop yours? Who will succumb to the pain first? Crying and screaming and begging? Who will be able to withstand it longer?”
Whumpee tried to pull away from the rough grip on their chin as their head was forced to look up at where they imagined Whumper’s angry, fiery eyes were glaring down at them but it didn’t budge. They could feel Whumper’s hot breath on their neck as they leaned closer to their ear, sending Whumpee’s back ramrod straight at the proximity.
Whumpee hated to admit it, but Whumper’s presence terrified them to their core. They kneeled on the hard, painful floor frozen except for their quick, sharp gasps of air. Vulnerable. Scared.
“My bet is on them.”
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beigetiger · 4 months ago
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Methinkin about ranks in the Sanctuary system in Battlescape, which would really be What’s In The Books™️+ other stuff. Let’s see how well I can organize it, I guess.
At the very top of the ladder is the Grand Mage, naturally. Official leader of each Sanctuary, gives out orders, makes laws and policies, and so on. I’m debating whether or not to make Roarhaven a democracy, but I’m leaning towards no because ain’t no way would the sorcerers ever manage to create a functioning democracy.
Right beneath the Grand Mage are the supporting Elders, who also give orders and help the Grand Mage keep organized and make policies. These two spots are currently empty for the Irish Sanctuary but they’re duties are performed by Temper Fray and Tanith Low.
There’s the Administrator. Keeps the whole Sanctuary organized, relays the Grand Mage’s orders to the soldiers/detectives. Since Roarhaven and it’s duties have gotten a lot bigger in the AU, I’m thinking of there being a council of five administrators, with Cerise as the head and the other four bring her assistants.
From there, the system goes into five main branches. Keepers of the Peace, the Detectives, the Specialized Skills units, science and technology, and the general military. Note that many of the people who work for these groups do assignments for other branches as well, or sometimes don’t belong to any particular branch at all. It’s very messy, but basically the types of activities they do is sorted into categories to make things easier (as opposed to strict lines in the sand about who they work for).
Keepers of the Peace are basically in charge of making sure that the various, very diverse groups within the city aren’t violently discriminating against each other. They also try to keep such corruption out of the Sanctuary as well. Duties include handling vampires (both helping and killing them when necessary) handling Gist-wielders, making sure mortals and sorcerers aren’t trying to kill each other, and splitting up hate groups. They also help people who are new to the city adjust, they have a whole system for it. This branch is headed by Temper.
The Detectives do as the detectives always have, which is solve problems, whether they be violence-based or mystery-based. They’ll also assassinate people when asked to, so really the detectives more serve as miscellaneous soldiers.
Specialized Skill units are sorcerers that are useful in wars but not your average fighting based soldier. Specialized skill sorcerers are ones such as Teleporters, Sensitives, Vitakinetics, and Gist-wielders (Gist-wielders need a lot of extra attention due to the raging mental issues that they usually come with, as well as their tendency to transform into full-fledged demons). Those in charge of Specialized Skill units tell these sorcerers where to go and make sure that they are safe and being properly cared for. This honour only extends to these type of sorcerers who work at the Sanctuary. Vampires who work for the Sanctuary (believe me, they are rare) would be categorized with the Special Skills unit but would probably do a fair bit of their work alongside the Keepers of the Peace.
Scientists/inventors are also pretty self-explanatory. They do science for the Sanctuary, which often involves creating new tech, new ways to stop the diseases that tear through the city, new ways to protect Roarhaven from invasion, and pretty much anything else useful. The science branch handles everything both magic and mundane, and is unaffiliated with the magic university that I still don’t have a name for.
And lastly, there’s the general military branch, which handles fighting, security, preventing street fights, and anything involving Ye Average Everyday Soldiers. Sub-branch of the general military branch is the prison system, which controls who works at the gaols, the locations of such prisons, and who is there (along with similar information). This branch is headed by Tanith.
The TYPES of soldiers who might belong to these units are as follows:
Sorcerers, who are exactly what you’d expect. They’re the majority population, they’re found everyone, and they can go into any branch they’re useful in.
Technomages, who are mortals that use magic tech to keep up alongside sorcerers. Some of them prefer to stealth and pretend to be normal sorcerers, while others are out and proud about being mortal. They aren’t really found in Specialized Skill units but can technically go anywhere else, although they’re virtually always some type of soldier (soldier meaning detective, assassin, cop, etc).
Completely normal mortals, who do not use violence-based magic tech. Since they aren’t violence-based, they go in the science branch. If they were to join one of the more militaristic branches, they’d pick up a magic weapon and become a technomage.
Cleavers, who go in the general military branch. How humane they are to keep around is under hot debate but for now, they’re staying. The science-tech branch is working on creating golems that function the same as Cleavers, but those are only in testing stages. Rippers can either leave, join a different branch, or stay in a different part of the general military. Cleavers are sometimes sent to do work for the Keepers of the Peace.
Miscellaneous magical beings who show up sometimes, such as witches, vampires, Crenga, and cursed magical creatures (such as Black Annis or Springheeled Jack if they weren’t dead). Quite rare but pretty useful (so long as they are kept under control), these types are usually given to Specialized Skill units for their unique abilities. The reason they aren’t given to the Keepers of the Peace is because that branch was made for protecting those outside the Sanctuary while the Specialized Skills branch was made to protect those inside.
There are NO Arbiters in the Sanctuary because nobody wanted to replace them when Skulduggery and Valkyrie left. There are, however, a few groups who serve a similar purpose, such as Dexter’s gang.
There are also probably a few programs and special units (similar to the Dead Men) in the Sanctuary, but the only particular idea I have right now is:
MILITARY COMMUNITY SERVICE! If someone fucks up with the law but has a relatively clean record or it was a minor crime, they can make it up by ensigning themselves to a program run by the Keepers of the Peace where they will have to complete or assist with one or more minor assignments (depending on the intensity of the crime). If someone is constantly going in and out of the program for committing crimes though, they usually get dragged off to prison or exiled unless they have a very good reason (such as coercion. In which case they have to help catch and punish those responsible).
Vampires and other similar creatures are quite common to find in this program because ✨discrimination✨. Really though, these types of people are usually under a lot more security than ye average citizen due to the fact that they can cause a lot more damage without being noticed. But since everyone in Roarhaven commits crimes at some point, these people all usually end up doing community service for something. They’re also more likely to get sent to prison or banished 😀 I get to write the fucked-up government system here
Also fuck it, another program is one run by the Specialized Skills branch that functions similarly to the Hidden Blades or the Cleavers, and what they do is they take orphans off the streets and train them to be gist-wielders, both because they then make excellent soldiers but also because then it can be discovered over time of gists really can be controlled or not. Anyways, orphans are picked up because it gives them somewhere to live, nobody is going to miss them, and they’re the most likely to have raging emotional issues, which makes them powerful as gists. The Irish Sanctuary, taking advantage of emotionally volatile children? Never.
But that’s the only idea for a program I have at the moment, so if anyone has any ideas let me know!
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cruel-seduction · 2 months ago
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Mattheo Riddle Headcanon
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Warning: This piece contains themes of possessiveness, obsessive behavior, and dark romance undertones. Mattheo's love might be overwhelming, intense, and not suited for everyone’s taste. Reader discretion is advised.
(+ Requests are open so if you wanna request something, go ahead)
Mattheo Riddle
౨ৎ 6’2 | He’s not as tall as Theo, but you wouldn’t dare mention that unless you want to end up against a wall (and not in the fun way—well, not just the fun way). He’s tall enough to tower over you, and honestly, that’s all he needs.
౨ৎ Built to fight | Mattheo doesn’t have the lean elegance of Theo or Draco. He’s solid—broad shoulders, strong arms, and that delicious combination of athletic and dangerous. (He’s fought more boys in Hogwarts hallways than you’ve taken exams, and every single one of them regretted it.)
౨ৎ Hands? MADE FOR SIN. Big, veiny, and calloused from Quidditch and street fights. He’s got a grip that can pin you down or pull you close—whatever mood he’s in. (He could choke you mid-argument, and you’d thank him afterward. RESPECTFULLY.)
౨ৎ He doesn’t work out for fun—he works out to survive. Fistfights, dodging hexes, getting thrown into detention every week; it’s all part of the “Mattheo Maintenance Plan.” (He calls it cardio; we call it hot as hell.)
౨ৎ Face? Pure trouble. Mattheo’s got that sharp jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass. Dark, stormy eyes that smolder like embers, framed by lashes so long they should be illegal. He’s always got a cut or bruise somewhere on his face—his version of an accessory. (You just want to kiss it better, don’t lie.)
౨ৎ Hair? CHAOTIC. Dark and curly, it looks like he ran his hands through it during a fight and then just left it that way. It’s thick and soft, and you know it’d feel like heaven wrapped around your fingers. (Or gripping your thighs while he devour —anyway.)
౨ৎ That smirk. It’s a weapon. Crooked, cocky, and knowing, it has the power to make you forget how to breathe. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he throws it your way. (And you hate yourself for falling for it every single time. But not enough to stop looking.)
౨ৎ He doesn’t just walk; he prowls. There’s a predatory grace to the way Mattheo moves, like he’s always two seconds away from either a fight or dragging you into a dark corner. (You wouldn’t mind the later one, do you?)
౨ৎ Voice? A slow burn. Low, raspy, and smooth, like he’s smoked one too many cigarettes but still has you hanging on every word. When he whispers, it’s game over. (He calls you “trouble” in that tone, and suddenly you’re ready to commit a crime.)
౨ৎ Anger Management Issues | Mattheo doesn’t yell—he doesn’t have to. His rage is cold, quiet, and calculated, which somehow makes it ten times scarier. He’ll get even, and he’ll do it in a way that leaves scars. (Emotionally and physically.)
౨ৎ Fight first, ask questions never. Mattheo’s solution to any problem is his fists. Someone looked at him wrong? Fight. Someone disrespected Theo or Draco? Fight. Someone dared to breathe near you? FIGHT. (And he’ll win, obviously. Look at him.)
౨ৎ Slytherin Prince energy. He doesn’t care for titles, but people gravitate to him anyway. He’s magnetic, exuding a dangerous charisma that makes you want to follow him—even if it means walking straight into hell.
౨ৎ Soft spots? Hidden under lock and key. Mattheo doesn’t open up easily, but when he does, it’s devastating. A rare, crooked smile or a quiet laugh, and suddenly your whole world tilts. (We LOVE a secretly soft bad boy.)
Would you let Mattheo Riddle ruin your life? Absolutely. Would you thank him afterward? Also yes. (No notes. Just him.)
Mattheo Riddle | Personality
౨ৎ He’s loud but in that dangerously calm way when it matters most. Mattheo knows exactly how to push buttons, whether it’s with a smirk, a biting remark, or just the way he looks at you like he knows all your secrets. (Spoiler: he probably does.)
౨ৎ The type of person who thrives in chaos. He’s not a troublemaker by default; he just is trouble. People either avoid him completely or flock to him like moths to a flame—usually the latter. (WE LOVE A MAN WHO IS THE RED FLAG AND THE WHOLE DAMN CARNIVAL!)
౨ৎ Reputation? Notorious. Everyone knows Mattheo Riddle. Maybe it’s because he’s always at the center of some scandal, or maybe it’s just because you can’t not notice him.
౨ৎ Manipulative, but make it hot. He doesn’t need to raise his voice or even argue much. Mattheo knows how to twist words and situations until you’re the one apologizing to him. (And then he has the audacity to smirk about it.)
౨ৎ Fights aren’t something he picks—they’re something that find him. But once he’s in one? All bets are off. "You wanted this. Don’t start crying now."
౨ৎ Unlike Theo’s quiet menace, Mattheo fights loud. He taunts his opponent with sharp quips and cruel laughter, the kind of guy who’ll land a punch and then casually fix his hair like it was nothing.
౨ৎ Obsessive tendencies galore. When Mattheo decides something—or someone—is his, it’s game over. He doesn’t just like you; he fixates. (Good luck trying to shake him off because you’re not going anywhere.)
౨ৎ Affection? Worship disguised as possessiveness. He’s the type to follow you around like a shadow, making sure everyone knows you’re off-limits. His jealousy? Immediate and obvious. "If you wanted to make me mad, congratulations, princess. Now, what are you going to do about it?"
౨ৎ He’s a natural flirt, but it’s not rehearsed. Everything about Mattheo is raw, instinctive, and dripping with confidence. (The man could make tying his shoes look like foreplay. It’s unfair.)
౨ৎ Smirks more than he smiles, and every single one is lethal. It’s the kind of smirk that makes you rethink your life choices. (Like why you aren’t currently pinned against a wall by him.)
౨ৎ His anger is a wildfire—hot, destructive, and consuming. But what’s scarier is the moments right before he snaps, when his voice lowers and his eyes darken. That’s when you really start praying.
౨ৎ Chaotic protector energy. Mattheo doesn’t have many people he’d go to the ends of the earth for, but if you’re one of them? He’ll burn the world down to keep you safe. (And he’d make it look sexy while doing it.)
He’s not just passionate; he’s intense. Whether it’s fights, emotions, or sex, Mattheo doesn’t do anything halfway. He’s all-in, all the time. (Exhausting? Yes. Worth it? Also yes.)
Would you let Mattheo Riddle ruin your day, your life, and your sanity? Absolutely. Would you regret it? Never.
౨ৎ Layers of chaos. On the surface, Mattheo looks like he’s got everything under control—swagger, confidence, and a devil-may-care attitude. But under all that? Oh, he’s a mess. Overthinks everything, but you’d never know it because he masks it with a cocky grin and impulsive decisions. (SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A THERAPIST, BUT ALSO LET HIM KEEP THE TOXIC EDGE. WE LOVE IT.)
౨ৎ Moody as hell, but in the hot way. You’ll know when he’s upset because he gets too quiet, that jawline clenching just so. He won’t lash out; instead, he’ll brood in the corner until someone’s brave enough to poke the bear. "Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? *Smirk.* " (Sir, that smirk says you’re about to burn the whole castle down.)
౨ৎ Impulsive to the core. Plans? Never heard of them. Mattheo acts on instinct—whether it’s throwing a punch or dragging you into an empty corridor because he needs you right now. It’s a miracle he hasn’t landed himself in Azkaban.
౨ৎ Organized chaos. His notes are scribbled, his robes are half-untucked, and yet he’s always prepared. Somehow. He doesn’t stress about the details; he just wings it. (And annoyingly, it works out every time.)
౨ৎ Languages? Oh, he knows a few. His Italian is rough but so hot, especially when he’s muttering something under his breath that you can’t quite catch. And Merlin help you when he growls something in Parseltongue. (THE THINGS WE’D LET HIM DO IN THAT LANGUAGE.)
౨ৎ Smart but reckless. Mattheo doesn’t study much, but he’s one of those annoyingly brilliant types who can pick up a spell by watching someone else do it once. He’d ace every class if he cared enough to put in the effort.
౨ৎ Social butterfly with teeth. He thrives in social situations—not because he’s polite, but because he’s got the charisma of a goddamn snake. Everyone either loves him, hates him, or fears him. Sometimes all three at once. "Hey, sweetheart. Didn’t think I’d catch you looking, but here we are." (Boy, nobody was looking. But now we are.)
౨ৎ Driest sense of humor. Mattheo’s sarcasm is so sharp it could cut glass. Half the time, people not sure if he’s joking or insulting them.
౨ৎ But according to him you look good in everything. Wearing a garbage bad? "Oh baby, You look like goddess"
౨ৎ Drinks tea like an old man. (Yeah, you thought he’d be a whiskey guy, didn’t you? Nope. Earl Grey, no sugar, no milk. Deal with it.)
౨ৎ Parties are his stage. Mattheo doesn’t just attend parties—he owns them. Whether he’s in the center of a fight or the middle of the dance floor, he’s the one everyone’s watching. And if he’s not? He’ll make sure he is. "Draco’s drunk, Theo’s being boring, and you’re coming with me. Now."
౨ৎ Protector vibes, but make it chaotic. Mattheo will fight anyone, anywhere, at any time if they so much as look at his friends the wrong way. But he’s not the silent type—oh no, he’s the guy yelling insults mid-fight and making sure the whole room knows why this person deserved it.
౨ৎ Would you trust Mattheo Riddle to make a single responsible decision in his life? No. Would you follow him into the chaos anyway? Absolutely.
Mattheo Riddle | Boyfriend
Oh, dating Mattheo Riddle is like dating a thunderstorm: chaotic, intense, and utterly mesmerizing. He’s a mix of reckless devotion, gentlemanly gestures, and just the right amount of toxic edge to keep things interesting.
౨ৎ The Fighter You Can’t Stay Mad At:
Let’s get this out of the way: Mattheo is always getting into fights. Whether it’s over you, his friends, or just because someone looked at him wrong, his knuckles are perpetually bruised.
You’ve become an expert at patching him up, and even though he winces when you clean his wounds, he sits still because you’re the one touching him.
But the second you start crying while bandaging him up? Oh, his heart shatters. He’d rather die in the ring than see tears in your eyes. "Baby, please don’t cry. It’s just a scratch—I’m fine, I promise." (Spoiler: It’s not just a scratch, but he’ll never admit it because he can’t stand upsetting you.)
౨ৎ The Open Book:
Mattheo tells you everything. Even the dumb stuff that doesn’t matter.
He’ll burst into your room with stories about the dumb prank Theo pulled or the argument he had with Draco over which Quidditch team is better.
It’s not just oversharing—it’s that he wants you to be part of every aspect of his life. You’re his person, and he doesn’t hold back. "Guess what? Draco tripped on his robe this morning, We saw his penis, and Theo nearly died laughing. You should’ve been there—it was glorious."
౨ৎ Your Number One Listener:
If you’re a talker, Mattheo listens like your words are the most important thing in the world. He’ll nod, ask questions, and remember everything.
You’ll mention something in passing—like wanting to try a new dessert—and two weeks later, he’ll surprise you with it.
And if someone interrupts you while you’re talking? Oh, they’re about to meet a very pissed-off Mattheo. "She wasn’t finished speaking. Shut up and wait your turn."
౨ৎ Gentleman With a Hint of Chaos:
Despite his bad-boy demeanor, Mattheo has a surprisingly soft, thoughtful side.
He carries pads or tampons for you, keeps a hair tie around his wrist just in case, and always has a water bottle on hand because you forget to stay hydrated.
He’ll open doors, walk on the side closest to the street, and make sure you’re warm when it’s cold. (But let’s be honest, he’ll also yank you into a broom closet mid-conversation because he needs to feel you right now.)
౨ৎ Hopelessly Devoted (But Low-Key Toxic):
Mattheo worships the ground you walk on, but don’t mistake that for him being easygoing. Oh no. His loyalty comes with a dark, possessive streak.
He’s not the type to tell you who you can or can’t talk to, but rest assured, anyone who crosses a line with you will regret it.
You can do anything, like literally anything. You can kill a guy and all Mattheo would do is kiss your forehead and hide the body. According to him you are never wrong. You can slap him, punch him, or worse kill him he would still justify it saying there must be a reason behind this.
He’s subtle but scary when it comes to protecting you. A cutting glare, a whispered threat, or just his mere presence is usually enough to keep people in line.
౨ৎ How He Fell in Love:
Mattheo thought he was immune to love. Sure, he flirted and hooked up, but real feelings? Nah, not for him.
Until you came along.
It hit him during one of his usual brawls. He glanced at the crowd, and there you were, looking so worried. And suddenly, getting punched didn’t matter—making sure you never had to worry about him like that again did.
Afterward, he was awkward as hell trying to tell you how he felt. He didn’t have Theo’s calculated charm or Draco’s smoothness. Instead, he just blurted it out one day while you were laughing at some dumb joke he made. "I love you. Like, I think I’d die if you ever left me, so… yeah."
Your stunned silence nearly killed him, but then you kissed him, and he knew he’d never want anyone else.
౨ৎ Ride or Die Energy:
Mattheo isn’t just your boyfriend; he’s your partner in crime.
Whether it’s sneaking into the Restricted Section, hexing someone who pissed you off, or just holding your hand while you rant, he’s always got your back.
He might be reckless, dramatic, and a little toxic, but he’s also fiercely loyal, endlessly devoted, and absolutely crazy about you.
Dating Mattheo Riddle? Exhausting. Chaotic. Perfect.
Mattheo Riddle | Affection
Mattheo Riddle isn't the type to pour out his feelings in grand speeches or dramatic gestures—no, he's far too intense and possessive for that. But when it comes to affection? He’s got a way of showing it that’ll make you never doubt how much you mean to him.
౨ৎ The Quiet, Intense Affection:
Mattheo is a man of action, not words. He won’t always tell you he loves you, but his touch? Oh, it says everything.
His hand on your waist when you walk through crowded hallways. The way his fingers graze your back when you’re standing too close to someone.
In public, he’s cool and calm. But when it’s just the two of you? He’s all about that quiet intensity that makes your heart race.
If someone tries to flirt with you? He’ll just stand there, leaning against a wall with a smirk, eyes dark and unreadable, watching. He doesn’t need to say a word; everyone knows you’re his.
౨ৎ Praise Kink, Because Why Not?
Mattheo lives for praising you, but not in some sugary, over-the-top way. No, his words are quiet, almost off-handed—but they hit like a freight train.
"I don't know how you make doing nothing look so fucking sexy."
“You’re brilliant. You’ve got this whole school eating out of the palm of your hand, and I love it.”
He’ll say things that seem like offhand compliments but are actually his way of making it clear you’re the most important thing in his life. You’ll think about it later, and that’s when it hits: he means it.
౨ৎ Acts of Service—Mattheo Style:
Mattheo won’t jump up and start fussing over you the second you’re upset. He’ll do it in his own way—quietly, but with a look that says he’ll take care of you.
He won’t tell you when he’s bought your favorite candy or snuck into the library to grab the book you mentioned once.
"You said you were feeling stressed, so I already cleared your schedule for the week," he’ll say, as though it’s no big deal. (It’s a huge deal, but he’ll never admit it.)
If you’re tired and need a break, you can bet Mattheo will be the one to drag you out of the common room for a walk, simply so you can breathe without all the chaos.
౨ৎ Possessiveness, But Make It Sexy:
Mattheo doesn’t have to raise his voice or throw punches to show how much you’re his. His possessiveness is felt—a deep, simmering intensity that wraps around you.
At parties, his hand is always on you. Resting on your back, on your thigh, on the curve of your waist. Every touch is a claim, subtle but strong.
He doesn’t need to make a scene when someone flirts with you. Instead, you’ll see him lean in, whisper something in your ear, and the person who was trying to flirt with you? Suddenly, they’ll lose interest.
"I believe you’re standing a little too close to her," Mattheo will say, his voice smooth, and then? Instant silence. You’ll never see that person again.
౨ৎ The Soft Side of Mattheo:
Don’t be fooled by his hard exterior—Mattheo has a surprisingly soft side, but only when he’s with you.
He loves wrapping you up in his arms, his strong hands gently cradling your head as he runs his fingers through your hair. The moment the world is quiet, Mattheo will pull you closer, murmuring things only meant for you.
"You’re the only one who can make me feel like I can finally breathe," he’ll whisper, kissing your forehead like it’s the most sacred thing in the world.
He’s the type to hold you while you fall asleep, his hand resting on your back, as though he’s terrified of letting you go.
౨ৎ Mattheo Riddle, the Perfect Boyfriend:
He’s everything you didn’t know you needed. Intense, protective, and slightly toxic, but in the best way possible.
He’ll fight for you, adore you in his own way, and make you feel like you’re the only one in the world.
It’s the kind of love that burns, but in the most thrilling, heart-stopping way possible.
Because, at the end of the day, Mattheo Riddle isn’t just your boyfriend—he’s your protector, your love, your obsession.
And honestly? You’d never want it any other way.
(So yeah, you might occasionally hate how possessive he is, but you love it. Let’s be real, you know he’s all yours and you wouldn’t have it any other way.)
Mattheo Riddle | Obsessive Devotion
If Theodore is calculated destruction, Mattheo Riddle is reckless chaos. He doesn’t just want you to fall apart; he wants to be the reason you can’t put yourself back together. With Mattheo, it’s raw, unrelenting intensity—the kind that leaves you breathless, marked, and utterly ruined.
౨ৎ The Firestarter:
Mattheo thrives on tension, but unlike Theo’s slow burn, Mattheo’s approach is an inferno. He’ll corner you in dark hallways, his hands caging you against the wall, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs something filthy.
"You think you can tease me like that and get away with it? Oh, sweetheart, we’re far from done."
He doesn’t do subtle. His need is primal, immediate, and entirely consuming. If you’re within reach, you’re his—whether it’s in the privacy of his dorm or against a cold stone wall in the dungeons.
౨ৎ Possessive Chaos:
Mattheo doesn’t just want to own you—he needs to make sure everyone else knows it.
He leaves marks on purpose, smirking when you try to cover them up. "Don’t hide it, baby. Let them see who you belong to."
He’ll pull you onto his lap at parties, his hands gripping your thighs possessively, his dark eyes daring anyone to come close.
౨ৎ Praise Me, Baby:
Mattheo isn’t shy about telling you exactly how much he wants you. His words are rough, filthy, and laced with need, but they always leave you trembling.
"You’re a fucking goddess, you know that? Look at you, taking me so perfectly."
He thrives on your reactions—every gasp, every moan, every arch of your back. It’s his fuel, his addiction.
And if you praise him back? If you tell him he’s good, that he’s making you feel amazing? His restraint snaps. He becomes desperate, almost feral, to prove that he can give you everything you want and more.
౨ৎ Control Meets Chaos:
Mattheo loves being in control, but he’s also unpredictable. One moment, he’s guiding you with a firm, steady hand; the next, he’s pinning you down, his lips bruising yours as he loses himself in the heat of the moment.
He’s rough but never careless. Every grip, every bite, every growled "mine" is deliberate, a testament to just how much he adores you.
Push him too far, though—maybe tease him with a sly smile or brush your fingers against his neck when you know he can’t do anything about it—and you’ll unlock a side of him that’s both thrilling and terrifying.
"You want to play games, sweetheart? Fine. But don’t think for a second you’ll win."
౨ৎ The Edge of Obsession:
Mattheo isn’t just devoted—he’s obsessed. He memorizes every little thing about you—your favorite scent, the way your lips twitch when you’re amused, the soft sounds you make when he kisses that spot just below your ear.
He carries your favorite snacks in his bag, not because you asked, but because he noticed you skipped lunch one day.
౨ৎ Endurance King:
Mattheo doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, breathless, and begging for mercy. Even then, he’ll push just a little further, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he watches you fall apart beneath him.
"One more, baby. Just one more. You can do that for me, can’t you?"
And when you think you’ve reached your limit, he’ll hold you close, his voice soft and soothing as he helps you come back down.
౨ৎ Switching It Up:
Mattheo loves being in control, but when you take charge? Oh, it drives him wild. The second you push him onto the bed, straddle his hips, and demand that he behave, he’s putty in your hands.
"You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind, baby."
Watching you take what you want from him—feeling your nails dig into his skin, hearing the way you gasp his name—it’s enough to make him come undone every single time.
౨ৎ The Vulnerable Side of Mattheo:
As intense and chaotic as he is, Mattheo has a softer side that he only shows to you. After the fire has burned out, he’ll hold you close, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispers things he’d never admit in the light of day.
"You’re everything to me, you know that? I’d burn the whole world down for you."
He loves running his fingers through your hair, tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he listens to your heartbeat. It’s in those quiet moments that you see the depth of his devotion—the way he’s completely, irreversibly yours.
౨ৎ Mattheo Riddle, The Lover You’ll Never Forget:
He’s fire and brimstone, chaos and passion, but beneath it all is a man who would do anything to make you feel loved, desired, and protected.
With Mattheo, every touch, every word, every moment is a whirlwind of intensity that leaves you craving more.
Because once you’ve been loved by Mattheo Riddle? No one else will ever compare.
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smokesandsonatas · 6 months ago
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Twisted Wonderland but make it grounded in dark reality. I drafted this around late 2023 and I just finished this now, haha. As always read at your own discretion and enjoy!
Warnings: Implied cannibalism. Dread.
Characters: Floyd and Jade, Leona, Ruggie, Rook, Idia, Lillia, Malleus, Others.
Not beta read.
Food.
- Any substance consumed by an organism for nutritional support. A means for survival.
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You’ve always known most of them are peculiar creatures. Sharp teeth, mismatched eyes, monstrous forms, fins that glint with predatory sharpness, and horns that pierce the sky with arrogant pride. They embody the villains from the old fairy tales back in your world, grotesque and terrifying in equal measure. You suppose they function like civilized beings—they’ve learned to blend into human society, after all—but you can’t help but notice just how different, how unnervingly similar, they are to one thing: food.
The dishes at this college are like nothing you've ever tasted. Perhaps it's because many of them are children of royalty, so even the cafeteria food tastes like something out of a king's banquet. The pickiness of their palates is evident in every bite, in every carefully crafted dish. But there are things you find more intriguing than their refined taste; something almost hypnotic about the way they eat, especially when they don't mind you watching.
The scent of something delicious invaded Ramshackle Dorm in the dead of night. You assumed Grim was cooking, as ridiculous as that sounded, but found the little gremlin snoozing soundly beside you. Maybe it was the ghosts? But as you descended the stairs, you found the kitchen empty, devoid of any culinary activity. One glance at the night sky over Sage’s Island told you it was around 3 AM—far too early for breakfast, and far too late for dinner.
You tried to go back to sleep, but the tantalizing scent of roasted meat kept you awake, gnawing at your resolve until you could no longer ignore the hunger pangs twisting your stomach. Leaving Grim behind, you draped the sheets over his body, muttering a promise to return soon. Your curiosity and hunger led you to the cafeteria, which should have been deserted at this hour, but to your surprise…
They were all there. The ones you’ve grown closest to.
They were gathered around a long, elegant table, the atmosphere eerily reminiscent of Mostro Lounge—dim lights casting soft, ominous shadows across their faces. The table was laden with exquisite, expensive cuts of meat, arranged in a feast fit for monsters. And in the center of it all, a massive stack of roasted meat commanded your attention.
It looked…perfect. The tenderloin, you assumed, was butter-soft, with a thick, moist cut that bled a light pink from the center. The outer layer was roasted to a flawless crisp. But something about the presentation unnerved you, a chill creeping up your spine.
The pile of meat looked too much like the carcass of a person. Or a beast, perhaps. It was hard to tell. But you could almost see the outline of a body, as though someone—someone about five or six feet tall—had been subjected to the furnace’s extreme heat, roasted beyond recognition. Was that hair you saw near what should have been the head? Before you could inspect further, a voice called out to you.
"Ah! You're here! Come and join us, Shrimpy!" Floyd’s voice rang out, cheerful and disturbingly eager. His sharp teeth gleamed in the dim light, rows of jagged edges that could tear through flesh with ease. Beside him, Jade chuckled, slicing into a slab of meat with surgical precision, the knife gliding through like it was cutting butter.
Your eyes scanned the gathering. At the head of the table sat Tsunotaro—Malleus, the prince of fae. You frowned, under the impression that he usually is not invited in gatherings like this. But he nodded at you, a small, regal acknowledgment. “I was invited by Lilia,” he explained, his voice low and melodic. You glanced at his plate—a half-eaten steak submerged in a thick, red sauce. The metallic, almost fishy scent wafted up, assaulting your senses.
Before you could react, Lilia appeared beside you, his small hand guiding you to a seat. His right hand held a wine glass filled with a creamy red liquid that clung to the inside of the chalice. You tried to dismiss the fact that it looked too much like blood—thick, viscous blood. Surely, wine wasn’t supposed to look like that, but who were you to judge?
“Bonjour, Trickster! ~” Rook’s voice whispered in your ear, and when you turned, you were met with a sight that made your stomach turn. The smell hit you first—foul, putrid, like a freshly killed animal left to rot. It was too strong, the copper and iron scent so overpowering you had to fight to keep your expression neutral.
You hope your face does not betray the constriction of your throat.
“Rook,” you managed to say, swallowing down the bile that threatened to rise. “What…uhm, what is that?”
Rook laughed, the sound as sharp as the glint in his eyes. “Liver pâté, my dear,” he said, twirling his fork. “If it’s a strong scent, I apologize. It’s from the raw liver I like to eat with the liver pâté.”
Raw…
You tried to ignore the word. Back in your world, people ate raw food—sushi, for instance. So whatever Rook had on his plate was none of your business. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself.
“Shishishi, the food is sure delicious, especially when I’m getting it for free!” A voice cackled, startling you. You almost jumped out of your seat at the sight of Ruggie, devouring his meal with a voracious appetite. His sharp teeth ripped through the flesh with ease, tearing the meat from the bone in one swift motion. Red droplets—blood?—splattered across his chin, and you watched in horror as his tongue darted out to lick it clean.
“Oi, Ruggie, have some manners,” Leona growled from beside him, his voice gruff and annoyed. He wasn’t eating, his plate already littered with bones, but he was sipping from a glass filled with a red liquid. You wanted to believe it was wine, but the scent…The scent was as repugnant as the raw liver on Rook’s plate. It was metallic, nauseating
—blood.
A shiver trickled down your spine.
That same scent wafted from Malleus and Lilia’s glasses, clinging to the air like a dark cloud.
“You’re one to talk!” Ruggie retorted, his mouth full of meat. “You’ve never eaten a rat before, Leona-san.”
You blinked. Did you hear him right?
Your train of thought was interrupted by Malleus’s voice from your left.
“Shroud,” the prince of fae said, his tone commanding yet gentle, “drink this and replenish your energy.” You watched as Malleus offered Idia the same drink he was consuming. And to your shock, Idia accepted, his expression one of reluctance.
“I don’t really mind drinking this stuff, but I just don’t like eating much…” The Ignihyde dorm leader mumbled, his voice trailing off. You glanced at his plate—a barely touched piece of ‘steak’ with a small cut in the corner, oozing something you didn’t want to identify.
You could barely breathe as you watched Idia reluctantly take a sip of the viscous liquid from Malleus's chalice. His face remained as pale as ever, though a faint hint of color touched his cheeks. The sight was unsettling, and you couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of dread tightening around your chest.
"Not a fan of solid food?" Jade's voice slithered into your thoughts, pulling you from the trance. His mismatched eyes glinted in the dim light as he calmly sliced through his portion of meat, each movement precise and almost too graceful. "It's an acquired taste," he continued, offering you a smile that somehow did nothing to ease your growing anxiety.
Your gaze shifted to the plate in front of you, untouched and ominously inviting. The stack of meat in the center of the table loomed like a dark specter, its presence a constant reminder of the unease gnawing at your mind. You felt a pressure to partake, to show your acceptance of their world, but every fiber of your being screamed against it.
"Come now," Lilia's playful voice broke through the tension, "you should try it at least once. After all, it's not every day you get to dine with such esteemed company." He winked, the gesture meant to be comforting, but it only made you more wary.
You glanced around the table, noting the expectant gazes directed your way. Floyd’s sharp grin was still fixed on you, his eyes gleaming with mischief, while Ruggie gnawed contentedly on his bone, seemingly oblivious to the tension. Rook, watched you with a keen interest, his fork poised elegantly in his hand.
Leona’s gaze was the most unsettling, though. His amber eyes were half-lidded, seemingly bored, yet there was an intensity in them that made you feel like prey. His fingers drummed lazily on the table, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight curl of his lips, as if he was waiting for you to make a move.
Your gaze drifted across the table, stomach churning with a mix of disgust and dread. The dim light flickered, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance across their faces—no, across their true forms. You blinked, the image wavering as if your mind was trying to shield you from something it wasn’t ready to comprehend.
Floyd’s laughter echoed, a sound that grated against your nerves. For a split second, you saw something else—an elongated, sinuous form, slick with scales, teeth sharper than any blade, rows upon rows of them, stretching endlessly down a gaping maw that promised nothing but pain. You shuddered, the image vanishing as quickly as it appeared, leaving you staring at the harmless, smiling face of the boy who once called you Shrimpy. Jade is no better. You can see the muscles bulging as his back turns, with sharp rows of fins scattered along his spine. If you were behind him right now, you’re certain he would cut you in half.
Your eyes flicked to Ruggie, who was gnawing on the bone of his meal with unabashed relish. But in the periphery of your vision, his form distorted—muscles rippling beneath fur that was too thick, claws that scraped against the table, and a maw that was too wide, too hungry, filled with jagged fangs meant for tearing, ripping, devouring. He glanced up, catching your gaze, and you quickly looked away, the image of the beast-man fading back into the all-too-familiar figure of a mischievous boy. Leona on the other hand, sit still. The image of a lion assessing it's prey. You dare not look at his eyes burning holes through your skull—you feel it.
Idia, who sits apart from the others, his presence a dark shadow at the table. There’s something about him that feels different, even among these monsters. His connection to the underworld is undeniable, a guardian of the boundary between life and death. The flickering blue flames of his hair and the way his eyes pierce through the darkness suggest something far older and more terrifying than any of the others—a being who has seen what lies beyond the veil, and who has perhaps brought a piece of it back with him.
Rook, you cannot even begin to comprehend how a human—like yourself, is able to blend in with them.
But the worst was Malleus. The prince of the fae was calm, serene even, but there was something wrong—horribly wrong. His eyes glowed too brightly, their green hue pulsating with an otherworldly light. And then, for just a moment, you saw what lay beneath that regal facade—a towering figure, wings that stretched endlessly, blotting out the sky, horns that twisted and curled like a crown of dark thorns. His smile was too sharp, too knowing, as if he could see right through you, into the very depths of your soul.
You closed your eyes, refusing to look at anyone anymore.
You tried to swallow your saliva, but your throat was dry, your mouth parched. The air was thick with the scent of blood, the tang of iron clinging to your tongue. They were all looking at you now, waiting, expecting you to take a bite, to join them in this feast.
Lilia’s voice broke the silence, light and playful as ever. “Come now, dear. Don’t be shy. You wouldn’t want to insult your hosts, would you?”
The pressure was unbearable, the weight of their gazes pressing down on you, suffocating you. Your hand trembled as you reached for the fork, the silver glinting in the low light. You knew, deep down, that whatever you saw—whatever you thought you saw—a no mere trick of the light.
They were not like you. They were never like you.
"I," you hope your voice does not shake, "I am full." You nodded, convincing them. You let out a nervous laugh, quickly standing up as you find the place too suffocating. Chair scraping the floor. "I'm fine! Really, I—ah, I need to go back, I have to catch some sleep and Grim is alone."
Floyd is quick to be by your side. His smile, wide and filled with sharp teeth, is unsettling. "Eh, Shrimpy, do you not like the food?" He asks, worry in his voice. You know it's fake: he's mocking you.
"I am good," you say with a strained smile. Please let me go, please, please—
"I insist," Malleus interjects, his voice smooth but commanding. "This is a feast meant for sharing. It would be rude to leave before sampling a morsel."
As if on cue, the others start to close in. Rook leans in closer, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mix of curiosity and amusement. "The flavors are truly exquisite, you know. Not something one should miss out on."
Leona’s gaze is heavy and piercing, his voice low and rumbling. "I’ve seen your kind turn down more robust fare than this. Surely you can handle a small bite."
Your attempts to excuse yourself only seem to stoke their interest further. The way they move, their unnervingly smooth motions, reminds you of predators circling their prey.
You might just be one tonight.
Floyd’s grin widens as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck. "Come on, Shrimpy. Just a taste. I promise it won’t hurt."
The pressure is mounting. They are pushing you to stay, to partake in their feast, and the atmosphere thickens with their silent insistence. Malleus’s eyes bore into you with a knowing gaze, his hand extending with a glass of the viscous red liquid. "Just a sip, if you please."
Every attempt to excuse yourself only seems to make their eyes narrow further, their smiles widen just a little more. The eerie calm of the feast surrounds you.
It is when you see the meat properly that you made up your mind to escape. It is in someone's plate, you do not know who.
It's in the shape of a finger. A charred fingernail dipped in red.
Floyd let out a yelp as you finally push him off of you, your steps quickening as you trace back where you came from: The path to Ramshackle dorm.
You heard Jade reprimand Floyd, the latter angry when you pushed him: How dare you Shrimpy was all you heard before you were out of their sight and you're running back, panting, to your safe space, Ramshackle.
Only to pause as Crowley stands in the steps of your door. His mask drowning the glint of yellow from holes that was supposed to be his eyes.
What... what the fuck.
Crowley approached you slowly, as if he's reaching out to a wounded prey, this is the first time you've ever seen him serious. You take a step back, should you run in the other direction? Where will you escape, Heartslabyul? Will they take you in there?
The headmaster let out a sigh, "My students here at Night Raven should perhaps know kindness from their teacher," he declared dramatically. Then he gave you pouch, full of madol. Thaumarks.
This is a bribe. Crowley is bribing you.
"Our little secret, alright?"
You blinked. What...?
"A little compensation for your troubles, for I am truly kind."
He then disappear, leaving you stunned.
At exactly 3:33 AM, a realization hit you. You are in the company of creatures far more dangerous than you ever imagined, their monstrous forms hidden just beneath the surface. One wrong step, one mistake, it can all come down. Crumbling to pieces.
It is inside when your knees give out, you slide through the door of the Ramshackle, too weak to stand anymore.
This is the truth: you are in the company of creatures mimicking humans, their monstrous forms hidden just beneath the normal exterior. But what terrifies you most is not the thought of what they are—but the thought that, perhaps, they see you as something less than human too.
The truth of what they were—what they really were—lurked just out of reach, like a shadow at the corner of your vision, waiting to pounce the moment you let your guard down.
But you knew better. Something had changed.
And as you sit there, the only protection you have are rotting woods that make up your dorm. You are just within the circle of monstrous beings in their friendly human skins. You are a magic-less, pathetic alien.
For in a world filled with monsters hiding in plain sight, the only question that remained was this:
What would happen when they decided they were tired of pretending?
Perhaps you will find out soon.
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nhaaauyen · 6 months ago
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⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆
"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)
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PART I: HEAVEN KNOWS
zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.
series masterpost: part II // part III // part IV // part V
wc: 4.7k cw: guns, brief descriptions of violence author's note: ty @mirconreadzztuff22 for being my arcane encyclopedia!! This is gonna be a seven part series so buckle up!!!
You blink awake, the world slowly coming into focus as a cacophony of muffled sounds pierces your slumber. Squinting one eye open, you’re able to see shadowy figures dragging your companions away, their struggles futile against the intruders' iron grips. Your heart races, but instinct kicks in. You remain still, feigning sleep, as footsteps approach.  
Someone looms over you - in the dim light filtering through the drugstore's grimy windows, you catch a glimpse of her scarred face and steely gaze. As she reaches for you, adrenaline surges through your veins. In a flash, you slam into her, catching her off guard.
For a split second, you had the upper hand - but it's short-lived. The woman recovers with lightning speed, her combat skills levels way above yours. She easily corners you against the cold, dusty shelves, her knife finding its way to your throat. The blade's edge kisses your skin, a thin line of warmth trickling down your neck.
"Move any further, and I can end this now." she growls, her breath hot against your ear.
You raise your hands in surrender, and she roughly drags you to join the others. You're thrust into the main area, forced to your knees alongside Vander, Vi, Caitlyn, and Powder. The scene before you is horrifying - Through the front window, you see a horde of walkers slamming against the glass. Their decaying faces press against the surface, leaving smears of rot and congealed blood. 
At the fore stood the woman who captured you, her gang forming a menacing circle around your group. You noted how tall and muscular she was, her dark skin gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat in the dim light. A red shawl draped over her left side, obscuring her arm and shoulder.  Her short, styled hair framed a face set in stern lines, but her eyes, they sparkled with something dangerous, almost predatory.
The woman’s gaze swept over your group, lingering on each face before settling on yours. "Looks like we've got ourselves some lost lambs," she drawled, her voice a low, smoky rasp.
You felt Vi tense beside you, her fists clenching. On your other side, Caitlyn's fingers twitched near her now empty holster. Powder, uncharacteristically quiet, had her gaze fixed on the panels with the undead clawing their bloody fingers at.
The air crackled with tension as Vander spoke. "We're just passing through, we don’t mean to cause any trouble."
"Do you know whose territory you're in?" she demands, her voice cutting through the moans of the undead outside.
"No… but we weren’t going to settle here, let us go and we’ll get out of your hair."
The woman's laugh is harsh and devoid of humor. "I don't care," she sneers. Her eyes scan the ransacked shelves of the drugstore. "What I care about is where the remaining medications are. Hand them over."
Your throat tightens. You know exactly where they are – hidden in your pack. "I have them."
Her gaze locks on you. "Hand them over."
"Why should I?"
In an instant, she's in your face, so close you can see the flecks of amber in her dark eyes. Her scarred lip curls into a snarl. "Because you don't want to know what happens if you don't."
Your mind races, torn between protecting your group's precious resources and avoiding the wrath of this formidable woman and her gang.  Would she really let you go if you acquiesced? 
The tense standoff is suddenly interrupted by a burst of static. One of the woman's group members fumbles with a radio clipped to their belt. A male voice crackles through, urgent and clear.
"Sevika, the store's surrounded now. Get out before dark hits. Over."
The tall woman - Sevika, you now know - snatches the radio. "Copy that," she replies tersely, her eyes never leaving your group.
With a sharp whistle, her group springs into action. They wordlessly pack supplies, secure weapons, and prepare for evacuation. The efficiency is impressive, and you can't help but admire their coordination even when you had two of them keep their guns trained on your group.
“What about us?"  
Sevika's lip curls in amusement. "What about you?"
"Are you going to let us go?" Vander presses, his voice steady despite the circumstances.
"Sure," Sevika drawls, then points directly at you. "After she gives me the meds."
"What? How the hell are we going to get out of here ourselves?" Vi protested. 
Sevika's response is cold and indifferent. "If you want to get out that bad, do it yourself."
You watch Vander's mind work, always strategizing. "You have a base, it’s obviously well-supplied based on the amount of weapons and people you have. Take us with you, we can fight and help."
Sevika scoffs. "Now, why would I do that? You're lucky enough I'm letting you go alive."
Someone in her group chimes in with a smirk, "If they can get out alive." Snickers ripple through the gang, and your stomach turns at their callousness.
As Sevika's group continues packing, she allows your group to stand. You seize the moment, stepping forward. "I've got EMT training. I know how to use the medications I took."
Sevika dismisses you with a wave. "No thanks. We've already got a doctor."
"More help wouldn't hurt."
Her patience wearing thin, Sevika snaps, "I'm not picking up strays, especially ones so easy to put down."
You step closer, your face inches from hers despite the notable height difference between you two. "We were easy to capture because we were sleeping. That's a coward's move."
One of Sevika's people moves to intervene, but she halts them with a raised hand. Her eyes lock with yours, and to your surprise, her scowl turns into a smirk. 
"Okay," she says, her voice low and challenging. "Prove to me right now that you can survive.  However many survive, we'll take them in. But anyone left behind, I'm not coming back for. You're responsible for this."
Vander nods grimly. "Fine with us."
The moans of the undead grow louder outside.  While Sevika's group finishes their preparations, your group hurries to gather what few possessions you have. 
Vi angrily stuffs clothes into her backpack. "This is bullshit," she hisses. "We can take 'em. I say we fight our way out."
Caitlyn shakes her head. "That's suicide, Vi. They outnumber and outgun us."
You kneel beside Powder, helping her gather her collection of odds and ends - Her hands shake slightly as she works.
"It'll be okay, Powder," you whisper, giving her a reassuring smile. "We'll stick together, just like always."
Powder's eyes dart nervously between you and the others. "But what if they separate us? What if-"
"Shh," you soothe, squeezing her shoulder gently. "We won't let that happen."
Vander's deep voice cuts through the murmurs. "Enough," he says firmly but quietly. "I know none of us like this, but we're out of options. We can't keep running forever."
Vi whirls on him, eyes flashing. "So we're just gonna roll over and let them take us? After everything we've been through?"
Caitlyn places a calming hand on Vi's arm. "Vander's right, Vi. We're exhausted, low on supplies. This might be our only chance at something better."
You stand up, looking around at your makeshift family. "Maybe this is an opportunity. We don't know what their community is like but it could be a chance for a real home."
Vi scoffs, but there's a flicker of hope in her eyes that she quickly tries to hide. "Yeah, right. And I'm sure they invited us out of the kindness of their hearts."
Vander steps into the middle of the group, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. "Listen to me," he says. "I don't trust them any more than you do. But right now, we need to play along. Stay alert, watch each other's backs, and be ready for anything. We're stronger together, remember that."
There's a moment of silence as his words sink in. Then, one by one, you all nod in agreement.
As you finish packing, you catch Sevika watching you, that same unreadable expression on her face. 
"Alright, time's up," Sevika calls out. "Let's move."
The moans of the undead grew louder outside, time was running out. With one last look at each other, your group falls in line behind Sevika's squad. 
Sevika's group snap into formation, they move with a fluid precision that speaks of countless drills and shared experiences. Sevika stands at the center, her scarred face set in grim determination as she outlines the plan to her team. You edge closer, straining to hear every word.
"Listen up," Sevika's voice cuts through the air. "Dustin, you're the distraction. When I give the signal, toss the radio into the parking lot. That should draw most of the horde away."
"Margot, Ran, Renni take position at the rear, pick off any stragglers that get too close. Conserve ammo, make every shot count.  Finn, you’ll lead - make sure everyone is accounted for, then go, don’t wait for us."
"The rest of you, we're on supply duty. Grab everything you can carry, and prioritize non-perishables." Sevika's eyes sweep over her team, then land on your group. "I'll be keeping an eye on our new 'friends'."
As the plan springs into action, adrenaline courses through your veins. You dash to your pickup truck, sliding into the driver's seat. Powder hops in beside you, her eyes wild with excitement. In the rearview mirror, you see Caitlyn and Vi taking up defensive positions in the truck bed, their guns at the ready. Vander moves with surprising agility for his size, efficiently loading supplies.
You hear hard rock playing from the blaring radio that Dustin hurls into the parking lot. The walkers' heads swivel towards the noise, their groans intensifying as they shamble after it.
Gunshots crack the air as Sevika's shooters pick off the walkers that didn't fall for the distraction. You grip the steering wheel tighter, ready to peel out at a moment's notice.
Sevika appears at your window. "Ready to prove your worth?" she challenges, eyebrow raised.
You’re about to respond when a voice from above steals your attention.
"Sevika!"
All heads turn to the roof. A kid stands there, panic evident on his face. Sevika's eyes widened in disbelief.
"What the fuck? They forgot Ekko?" she snarls, livid at the oversight.
The momentary distraction costs you. Walkers, drawn by the commotion, shamble towards your truck. Only one corner of the store remains clear, but it's too far for Ekko to reach safely.
Your mind races, and adrenaline sharpens your focus. "I know how to drift," you blurt out. "If you guys can clear as many walkers as possible near that open corner, I can whip the car close enough for him to jump down."
Sevika eyes you skeptically. "You have an interesting set of skills…  you’re confident you can get us close enough?"
"I can do it in my sleep. So, are we doing this?" you ask.
She nods curtly. "Fine. But don't get tempted to fling me out of the car."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Sevika barks orders into her radio, relaying the plan to Ekko. The air fills with gunfire as both groups focus on clearing a path. You rev the engine, calculating angles and timing in your head.
"Hold on!" you shout, then slam the accelerator.
The truck lurches forward, tires screeching. You weave through the thinning walkers horde, your heart pounding in your ears. As you approach the corner, you crank the wheel hard, initiating a perfect drift. The world blurs around you as the truck slides sideways, stopping just beneath Ekko's position.
"Now!" Sevika roars.
Ekko leaps, landing with a thud in the truck bed. You don't wait for confirmation, immediately spinning the wheel to face the exit. In the passenger seat, Powder whoops with glee, while gunfire erupts from behind as Caitlyn and Vi pick off any pursuing undead.
A sharp tap on your window startles you from your laser focus on the road. You roll it down, coming face to face with Sevika's intense gaze.
"Need some directions?" she asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Heat rushes to your cheeks as you realize you've been blindly following the road away from the store. "Uh, yeah. That'd be great," you manage, trying to mask your embarrassment.
As you follow Sevika's directions, a sight on the horizon makes your jaw drop. A gated community looms in the distance, its high walls painted with the word “Zaun” on it represent safety you haven't seen in years. Suddenly, the organized efficiency of Sevika's group makes perfect sense. This is nothing like the ramshackle shelters you've cobbled together over the years.
The convoy of trucks comes to a halt in front of the gates. You expect them to open, but Sevika raises her fist. Your brow furrows in confusion, but before you can ask, she's out of the truck, moving with predatory grace toward the other vehicles.
She stops at one truck, yanking the door open with such force you're surprised it doesn't come off its hinges. In one fluid motion, she drags out the man who was supposed to be in charge in her absence earlier, Finn, and slams him against the side of the vehicle.
"You coward," Sevika snarls, her voice dripping with contempt. "You're a disgrace to this group."
You're transfixed by the sheer intensity of her anger, the way she towers over Finn despite not being much taller.   Then you see it - movement in your peripheral vision. A walker, stumbling closer to Sevika's unprotected back. Your heart leaps into your throat, panic flooding your system.
"Sevika!" you try to shout, but it comes out as a strangled whisper. Ekko's grip on your arm tightens, holding you back.
"Don't." he warns, but you barely hear him roaring in your ears.
Your mind races, unable to comprehend why no one is reacting. The walkers are mere feet away now. You struggle against Ekko's grasp, every fiber of your being screaming to do something, anything.
The walkers' rotting hands reach out, inches from Sevika's shoulder. Time seems to slow down. You're about to break free, to hell with the consequences, when-
CRACK!
The walkers crumples, a clean hole through its skull. The bullet whistled so close to Sevika you swear it must have grazed her.
But Sevika doesn't even flinch. 
"You're pathetic," she spits, her eyes boring into the man.
And suddenly, it clicks. The walker was never going to be a threat, but Finn was going to let the walker get her.  That decision was a huge fucking mistake.  
Before she let go, he leaned in to whisper something imperceptible but it had enough effect that she practically threw him onto the ground in response.
The gates begin to open, and as Sevika strides back to your truck, you can't help but feel a mix of admiration and fear.   The woman before you was no ordinary one, she was willing to put her life on the line to protect her people and weed out the weak links.
Sevika slid back into the seat next to you, her eyes meeting yours.  You feel exposed, like she can see right through you. There's a challenge there, a silent question: Do you know what you’re getting into?
You swallow hard, gripping the steering wheel tighter. 
As you drive through the gate, you couldn’t conceal your awe. The scene before you is like stepping into a different world - one untouched by the horrors of the apocalypse you've grown accustomed to.
Neat rows of houses line well-maintained streets. Lush gardens and small farms dot the landscape, bursting with life and color. People - actual living, breathing people - stroll along sidewalks, chatting and going about their day as if the world outside these walls hasn't ended.
You count maybe 15-20 houses in total, but the sheer number of people you see is staggering. There are more living souls in this one community than you've encountered in years of scavenging and surviving.
Sevika directs you to a parking spot, and as you're climbing out of the truck, a woman approaches. She's tall and dressed in a neat uniform, with short-cropped gray hair and a face etched with the kind of hardness that comes from years of survival. Her sharp eyes remind you of a hawk's.
"How much longer were you gonna keep talking before you let me shoot?" she asks Sevika, a hint of amusement in her gruff voice.
"As long as it takes to make my point, Grayson." Then, gesturing to your group, she adds, "I picked up some strays today. Oh, and a spot just opened on my team, by the way. If anyone in your group wants to switch sides..."
"Enough of stealing my patrol, Vika."  For the first time, you see Sevika truly laugh. You notice her tooth gap, she looks almost carefree.  
“Well, looks like you survived,” Sevika says, turning to your group.
“You could say that with a bit more enthusiasm next time.”
There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips at your quip.  “It’s your turn to uphold your end of the bargain now.”  She puts out her hand.  
You retrieve the bag you stuffed under the seat, it rattles with the pills as you hand it over.  Without even a goodbye or thank you, she turns to leave, and you watch as her group immediately follows suit.
Grayson gives you a once-over, then nods. "Alright, let's give you the grand tour."
The houses were luxurious and belonged to a class you never knew. Some have solar panels on the roofs, explaining the electricity you can see being used. There's a central square with what looks like a communal dining area. The smell of cooking food makes your mouth water - real, fresh food, not the canned goods and stale rations you're used to.
You pass by a building that Grayson identifies as the infirmary. Through the window, you can see shelves stocked with medical supplies. It's more medicine in one place than you've seen since the world fell apart. You notice guard towers strategically placed along the walls - despite the idyllic appearance, it's clear this place is well-defended.
"I've got a meeting to attend but Ekko here will take care of you, though I do hope that we will meet again - my patrol squad is always looking for new members." With that, Grayson strides away, leaving you all trying to take in the scenery.
"Come on, let's get you settled in! Sky will get you guys all sorted out." Ekko waved at your group to follow.
He leads you through the streets, and you can't help but marvel at the sense of normalcy. People are going about their daily lives, talking, and laughing. It's like stepping into a memory of the world before.
"Welcome!" Sky says, her voice gentle with a hint of anxiety at the sight of your group - soot ridden and blood stained clothes weren’t the most friendly image. "We got a spare house. It’s not huge, but it should accommodate all of you comfortably."
She hands Vander a set of keys and a small map. Then, with a delicate clearing of her throat, she adds, "If I may suggest... There are showers in your new home. I think you'll find them... refreshing after your journey."
Vi snorts at the polite understatement, while Caitlyn looks slightly embarrassed. 
Sky continues, "Once you've had a chance to clean up, Ekko can show you to the pantry. We'll make sure you have enough food to get started."
You can hardly believe what you're hearing. Showers? Fresh food? It seems too good to be true.
As if reading your thoughts, Sky's expression softens. "I know this must be overwhelming. Take your time to settle in. It must be hard adjusting to how it is here, but this place didn’t happen overnight. Everyone here has a part in maintaining things the way it is. "
Ekko nods, gesturing towards the door. "Ready to see your new digs?"
As you follow him out, you exchange glances with your companions. There's hope in their eyes, but also caution. This place seems like a dream come true, but you all knew that nothing was ever permanent. 
The moment you step into your new house, chaos erupts. Bags fly everywhere as you all rush to claim spaces. Vi tosses her pack onto a bed, while Caitlyn more carefully sets hers down. You and Powder are a whirlwind of motion, exploring every nook and cranny.
Tears prick your eyes as the reality sinks in. A real home, after so long.
"I call the couch!" Powder shouts, leaping onto it.
Vi raises an eyebrow. "You can have the bed, you know."
"Nope! This is perfect," Powder grins, bouncing slightly.
You all burst into laughter, the sound foreign but welcome after so much hardship. As the laughter dies down, you realize just how hungry you are. Powder’s stomach growls loudly, causing another round of giggles.
"I think that's our cue to hit the pantry," Vi says, standing up and stretching. "Come on, let's see what they've got around here."
At the pantry, you're shoveling food into your mouth, barely pausing to breathe. "I know this is canned, but why is it so good?" you mumble around a mouthful.
Ekko chuckles. "We have fresh fish, vegetables, and fruit too."
Your eyes widen in disbelief just as Sky walks in, Sevika close behind.
"Oh perfect, we were looking for you guys!" Sky says warmly.
Sevika's eyes scan your group. "I see you're settling in already. We’ve got jobs for you."
She starts assigning roles, Vander and Vi in food gathering. Then she turns to you, Caitlyn, and Powder. "You three will be working here in the pantry."
"What? Even after all those 'interesting skills' you said I had?" The words are out before you can stop them, tinged with disbelief and a hint of anger.
"This is a serious job. Making sure everyone gets the right rations is important. Preventing theft, too." Her tone is cocky, almost challenging.
Fury bubbles in your chest. After everything you've been through, all the skills you've developed to survive, you're being relegated to... food inventory? You want to argue, to prove your worth, but the words stick in your throat. You're acutely aware of how precarious your position is here.
Beside you, Caitlyn looks equally stunned. She's an incredible shot, her skills were wasted on this task. But like you, she remains silent.
"Understood," you manage to say, the word tasting bitter. You exchange a glance with Caitlyn, seeing the same resolve in her eyes. 
The days blend into one another as you settle into a routine at Zaun. It's surreal, to be able to think beyond mere survival. Conversations here with others touch on memories, hopes, dreams - luxuries you'd almost forgotten existed.
You're lost in thought, mentally cataloging the supplies, when a familiar voice cuts through your concentration.
"Looks like our newest recruits are really getting into the swing of things."
You turn to see Sevika leaning against the doorframe. Her presence fills the small space, making the pantry feel even more cramped than usual.
"Don't you have something more important to do?" you mutter, trying to hide your annoyance. "Like, I don't know, running this whole place?"
Sevika chuckles, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into the pantry. "Multitasking, sweetheart. I can keep an eye on you and run this place at the same time."
You roll your eyes, returning to your task. But Sevika doesn't leave. Instead, she picks up a can, tossing it from hand to hand.
"You know," she drawls, "when I brought you in, I thought you might be more... useful. Didn't peg you for the grocery store clerk type."
Her words sting more than you'd like to admit, and it was also enraging - how dare she act like it wasn’t her fault you were assigned here in the first place? 
"We can't all be badass scavengers," you retort, reaching for a high shelf. Before you can grab it, Sevika's arm extends past yours, easily plucking the item you were struggling to reach.
"Here," she says, handing it to you. Your fingers brush as you take it, and you're struck by the calloused warmth of her hand.  You mutter a reluctant thanks, hyper-aware of her proximity. 
From the corner of your eye, you notice Caitlyn watching your interaction intently from across the room. Her gaze flicks between you and Sevika, a mix of curiosity and concern in her eyes.
Sevika notices too. She turns to Caitlyn with a raised eyebrow, the casualness in her voice from earlier gone. "Something on your mind?"
Caitlyn quickly averts her gaze, busying herself with her task. 
As you reach for another box, Sevika beats you to it, effortlessly lifting the heavy container. 
"How do you even have time for this?" you blurt out, frustration and confusion coloring your voice. 
Sevika sets the box down, her eyes meeting yours. "I don’t." 
The moment stretches between you, fraught with tension. Sevika's typical scowl returns, and she turns to leave.  "Try not to burn the place down with your expert can-stacking skills," she throws over her shoulder as she exits.
These encounters with Sevika were becoming more frequent, each one leaving you more uncertain than the last. But the random checkups made sense - you don't trust her, and neither does she.  
The pantry job was a way to keep your group in check but it coincidentally became a test of patience as well. Powder flits in and out, her time increasingly spent with Ekko. While part of you was frustrated by her lack of help, a larger part was glad she actually got to enjoy her childhood.
The breaking point comes during an argument with a burly man demanding extra rations. 
"Sorry, but rules are rules," you say, trying to keep your voice level. "Take it up with Sevika if you have an issue."
His face reddens. "Screw that, I'll go straight to Silco!"
The name hangs in the air, the mysterious leader of Zaun you've yet to meet. You knew Sevika's role as his right hand, but Silco himself remains an enigma, spoken of in hushed tones.
As the man storms off, you lock eyes with Caitlyn. Without a word, you both know - it's time for a change.
You find Grayson at the tennis courts, an incongruous sight that still makes you do a double-take. She's lounging in a weathered lawn chair, a beer in hand, watching a lackluster game between two residents.
The sun beats down on the cracked concrete court, weeds pushing through the fading lines.
Grayson spots you approaching, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes a long swig of her beer. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
You can smell the alcohol on her breath as you draw closer, noting the slight flush on her cheeks. Despite her relaxed posture, there's a sharpness to her gaze that tells you she's far from incapacitated.
"We need to talk," you say. "About our roles here."
"What about them?"
Caitlyn steps forward, her posture straight and confident. "I want to join your patrol team."
You nod, adding, "And I want to join Sevika's scavenging group."
Grayson snorts. "If you want to join Sevika's group, why come to me? Why not ask her yourself?"
You feel your cheeks heat up as the memory resurfaces. "I did..."
Sevika stands before you, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk on her face. You've just finished explaining your request to join her team.
She laughs, the sound both mocking and somehow enticing. "If you can beat me in sparring once, sure." Her eyes rake over you. "But we both know that's not happening anytime soon, pantry girl."
"I need you to train me," you tell Grayson, determination in your voice. "Make me a better fighter. All I did was drive and fix wounds, but I know I can do more."
Grayson's eyes narrow. "How do I know I won't be wasting my time helping you two?"
Before you can respond, Caitlyn moves. In a blink, she's drawn Grayson's pistol from its holster and fired at a beer bottle perched on a table at the end of the court, shattering the bottle.
"Because we have the skills to prove it," Caitlyn says coolly, handing the gun back.
For a moment, there's silence. Then Grayson's face splits into a grin. "Alright, I'm convinced." She stands, stretching. "But today's my day off. I'll see you two at the west watchtower tomorrow morning." 
Her expression turns serious. "If you're late, don't bother asking again.  Do we have a deal?"
You and Caitlyn share a look.
“Deal.”
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lilacargent · 1 year ago
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Soooo first post ever and it is because i have gone down the #humansarespaceorcs rabbit hole, and my train of thought was:
Yes humans are weird and do strange things to survive. But more specifically we do weird things to our surroundings to survive, many different things.
What if, it has been a decade or two since the humans joined what ever coalition or council of aliens that work together and as a species they are mostly well known for their ability to grow crops under the worst circumstances (soil, climate anything) ofcourse the other deathworld apex predator human traits make the rounds but over time they seem to assume we cannot surprise them anymore.
Everyone knows that if a planet is ‘owned’ by a certain species they have to pay tax to the coalition, so planets that aren’t particularly useful are undesirable.
This particular planet p-jx-5£2 has been moved around endlessly, given with trade deals to get rid of it. P-jx-5£2 is 97% water, with a very high salt level so inhabitable for all developed aliens. Even though the atmosphere is a nice oxygen base and the gravitational pull allright most for the coalition members the fast spinning moon and the planets quick pace around its sun make the water move and tides switch every 2.5 hours keeping no land dry outside of low tide.
~~~~~~~~
The tall Avian alian il’trexz was elated this day was going to be great, a trade deal with the hardy humans and getting rid of a useless money drain, they didn’t have a clue what they were signing up for!
Turning towards the much smaller bipedal species standing in front of the window looking down on the blue planet that just came into their possession the strange creature mumbled something to them selves, frowning Il’trezx asks ‘im sorry what did you say, you spoke but the translator didn’t pick it up?’ The human (Steve) turned to him away from the window ‘my apologies, i was talking to myself, i said that we had to send the dutch.’ Il’trezx looked befuddled ‘the dutch? Is that some kind of animal?’
Steve threw his head back and made a series of sounds that ruffled the Avians feathers and had he not known it was a laugh it would have made him run for the hills ‘HA I’m going to tell Andreas you said that, no the Dutch is what call people from a country on earth that specialise in these kinds of climates, they’ve been begging for a challenge since they stopped the flooding on the umavi home world.’ With feathers puffed up Il’trezx wonders ‘and they are going to do what? This is an impossible planet’ immediately clasping his beak he looks a the human to see if he seemed angry at being swindled, but to his surprise Steve just looks at him ‘hm so you believe we can’t use this planet. Allright let’s make a bet.’ Interested Il’trezx leans in closer ‘what kind of bet?’ A predatory grin spreads on the bipedal aliens face ‘if we make less of this planet than the amount of tax we have to pay over it we will cover all trade costs for this quarter, insurance, travel all of it.’ Eagerly Il’trezx starts nodding ‘but’ Steve keeps going ‘if we do make more of this planet you will do the same.’
The bet is put onto paper and the higher ups of both parties also agree. In 5 years the Avians would be back and they would balance the costs to the benefits. When they departed Il’trezx says too Steve ‘you must have a lot of faith in these “dutch” ‘ the man grins teeth bared ‘ofcourse, after all they conquered water before’
The five years pass and stories have been going around of a new energy supplier from the humans, producing enough energy to run 78% of their ships and several facilities. Nobody seems to know where it is coming from but no new pollution is measured in any of these facilities. None of this bothers the Avians, after all humans come up with new things all the time.
The five years are up and Il’trezx is invited to the planet with a group of advisors and other officials, the planet which apparently they have renamed to ‘posy’ which is supposed to be short for some kind of sea god from their olden days.
On arrival the amount of coming and going baffles them massive groups of ships docking or docked and all somehow attached to wires that run into machines.
The planets change alone was awe inspiring, two cities on opposite sides of the planet and what seems like millions of weird blades attached to high poles every where. Strange wheels and long walls between towers rising from the rapidly moving waters.
This… this was their new energy source. They somehow made a battery of this uninhabitable planet and then built a home.
On the meeting place Steve is waiting with a man slightly taller than him. Spreading his arms the smaller human says ‘welcome to Poseidon, this is Andreas our main mechanic here. He has been here with planning since orbit 1.’
After the introductions were done Andreas led the group through what they called the Northern city and showed on his device the steps it took to get a foothold and how they proceeded from there, mentioning that many of these steps his home country had used thousands of year ago to gain land from sea, and energy from the movement of water and air. They specialised in this form of terra forming and it showed.
The Avians were astounded, not having realised that there was more than one kind of way the Humans had battled their environment even beating back the waters of their world.
Without a doubt the humans had won the bet and had another legend added to their name. More and more humans showed that with the right motivation they could settle right about anywhere.
********
So yea… my stupid little idea. Hopefully someone will enjoy it. I just liked the idea of specific cultures and stuff. specialising in certain things.
Edit: im amazed people seem to like it! If people have ideas or other cultures they think would baffle aliens, im certainly willing to try and write something
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serpentface · 2 months ago
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What does the yotici life cycle look like now?
Fairly similar, here's a generalized idea
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I Did kind of drop the sessile+asexual polyp mobile+sexual fish alternating generations because it doesn't Really change anything besides sounding vaguely interesting. Fish reproduction is wild enough as-is.
Their eggs are laid in a stringy mass that requires a root to the sea floor (coral, tough kelps, rocks, sticks, etc) and light currents to keep them oxygenated. These egg masses are strong and can bend and sway fairly significantly without coming apart, but will be broken by strong currents and require a sheltered environment to survive. This is the basis of a Garden, an engineered ecosystem designed to protect the eggs, provide substantial and consistent nourishment for the young and resting places and shelter for adults, and additionally function as cultural and social centers.
Larvae are tiny and born with a yolk sac attached to sustain them. They metamorphose into a 'predatory' phase in which they feed on zooplankton and organic debris. These phases are tiny and poor swimmers, wholly reliant on the sheltered environment of the garden for safety and consistent food sources. Those swept out have very little chance of longterm survival. The VAST majority of yotici that hatch at all die in their larval stages.
Most of their anatomy is fully developed as a 'yotling', in which they are much stronger swimmers, school together, and are primarily predatory. Yotlings feed on plankton and other small animals, but their most important food source is their own species' eggs. This is a natural behavior for yotici, and much of the function of the garden is to provide this dependable, clustered food source for their young. The survival benefits of most of their reproductive output being sacrificed to these viable young with a fairly strong chance of survival vastly outweigh the loss, given the vast majority of yotici larvae who hatch to begin with die without ever reaching this phase. Yotlings have much lower mortality rates than the larvae, but a majority will die to predation. They're also frequent bycatch in fisheries and are widely eaten by landdwelling peoples. During the yotling phase, they're about 4-8 inches long.
Their beak starts to develop in the juvenile stage, during which they are 'weaned' out of predatory behavior and start consuming algae and marine plants. They instinctively school around adult yotici and follow them to food sources, usually eating algae that grows around the tougher foods the adults can handle. This tends to be the point in which active parental protection begins, but few yotici cultures conceptualize these juveniles as full people or develop personalized bonds with them, as their mortality rate is still fairly high. During the juvenile phase, they're about 8-14 inches long.
A yotici 'child' has all its base adult anatomy developed, including its tentacles, and looks like a miniature adult. They can eat tougher foods and join the adults in consuming seagrass. This is the point in which they are semi-equivalent to a human infant, rapidly learning and picking up on language and beginning to communicate. Fully active parental care and bonding will occur during this period (the Exact cultural marker of when this starts can vary) and they are conceptualized as people. Diminishingly few yotici actually survive to this phase, but those who do have a very good chance of lasting to adulthood. The child phase starts at about 1-2 ft in length.
At this point they grow steadily until sexual maturity, and will continue to grow (much, much more slowly) throughout the rest of their lives. Sexual maturity takes a VERY long time, usually about 20 years from hatching. An adult yotici generally ranges in size from 12-18 ft, with outstanding or very long lived individuals passing 25 (the World Record would be in the mid 30 ft range). A yotici who survives to reproductive adulthood has excellent chances at a long life, and yotici are by far the longest living sophonts. A lucky individual can crest 200 years.
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buggerthatsablogger · 23 days ago
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Velvet Worms!
Velvet worms, also known as Onychophora, are fascinating and unique creatures.
Ancient Lineage: Velvet worms are considered "living fossils" and have been around for about 500 million years, surviving from the time of the early Cambrian period.
Soft, Velvety Appearance: They are named for the velvety texture of their skin, which is covered in fine, hair-like structures called setae. These give them their soft, often glistening appearance.
Arthropod Relatives:They share common ancestry with the ancestors of arthropods.
Habitat: They are typically found in moist environments like leaf litter, forest floors, and under rocks. They are mainly tropical or subtropical but can also be found in temperate regions.
Carnivorous Diet: Velvet worms are predatory and feed on small invertebrates. They capture their prey by ejecting a sticky, mucous-like substance from specialized glands, which entangles the prey, making it easier to consume.
Unique Locomotion:Velvet worms move slowly and deliberately, using their many, stubby legs (usually 13–43 pairs) to crawl along surfaces. They have a unique form of locomotion, described as "loping," which is different from other arthropods.
Reproduction: Velvet worms reproduce sexually, and some species exhibit interesting forms of parental care. For example, some mothers carry their young on their backs until they are old enough to fend for themselves.
Excretion: Velvet worms excrete waste through small openings on their underside, and their waste can provide important nutrients for the ecosystem.
Resilient Survivors: Despite their delicate appearance, velvet worms can survive harsh conditions like desiccation. In extreme dryness, they can enter a state of dormancy, allowing them to endure until conditions improve.
Global Distribution: There are around 200 species of velvet worms, distributed in regions around the world, particularly in rainforests, but they are more common in areas with high humidity.
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balkanradfem · 2 years ago
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I've been reading 'The Climate Book' from Greta Thunberg, and I have to talk about it. I've never seen a book written so brilliantly and desperately, pleading for awareness, for action, for survival. I thought I was aware of the climate change, but there was a vast amount of information I did not know. I'll start from the ones I did.
I knew that the climate has already changed, and will continue to change until a lot of animal species will go extinct, and a big amount of human beings will suffer, end up impoverish, misplaced, in starvation, or dead. I knew the culprits were the companies that refused to stop taking down forests, burning fossil fuels, promoting lifestyles of consumerism, over-consumption, generated the amount of waste that the planet could not safely consume or store. I also knew that one of the biggest pollutants were big oil, animal and plant agriculture, fast fashion industry, travel industry, and the capitalistic system that enabled 1% of humanity to own and over-consume 90% of the resources available to us. Knowing this made me feel powerless, because even as I boycott all of it, I can't do much else, and I'm not enough to stop what is going on. I am merely a drop in the ocean - which is what Greta points out as well. But, Greta doesn't think we're powerless.
This book is incredible in the sense that it goes over and beyond to think practically. It doesn't despair, it doesn't panic, it doesn't think any other way but how to practically and effectively bring change, what are the options and possibilities, what is true and what is propaganda, how to avoid millions of deaths and extinctions that are sure to come, if we do nothing. Greta has analyzed all action that is 'being done', and found out most of it was fraud, cheating, lying. All of the governments and companies who were bragging about reduced emissions, or offsetting emissions, have simply found ways to outsource them and to emit them in another, poorer country. The amount of emissions has actually increased.
She has also interviewed the world leaders, and people responsible and suffering from climate change - and these are the results: Nobody feels responsible, nobody feels as if it's their turn to change, to reduce, to do anything to help it. Even interviewing people whose livelihood was taken away from them due to climate change, who have lost their living environments already, their trees and animals and fields and fertility and soil, when asked if they would be willing to work ecologically from now on, with reduced or low emissions, their answer was 'Why should we? It's not fair, they took from us and enjoyed, while we suffered. We won't stop until we have what they have. We deserve it.'
With this information, Greta has found a truth of how humans influence each other - we imitate. If we see someone else doing something, or having something we find desirable, we also want it. We look at ourselves in relation to other people that surround us, we take responsibility according to what others around do, and we hold ourselves accountable only as much as others do. And this is why we have a power that goes beyond individual action, beyond simply lowering our own emissions and boycotting companies that are responsible for pollution - we are able to influence others. We're able to influence the media, which forms public opinions, and using the media, force into action those who benefit from polluting the planet.
What I didn't know, and this book taught me, was that from the times humans started to hunt, they didn't only have a great effect on the environment, they were the absolute leading agent on it. Soon after hunting the megafauna into extinction, the environment started to change not just because we affected it, but because we directed it to. We caused the extinction of many species throughout the past, by hunting, taking wild spaces for our own use, polluting water sources, changing the climate, spreading predatory species,  like cats and rats, and we didn't stop there. We changed the landscapes of forests and fields, into human-used agricultural land that was effectively deadened for the purpose of wildlife. We domesticated, and then farmed animals, to such extreme degree, that right now what is left of the wildlife, is mere 12-15% of all animals out there. More than 80% of current animals by weight living on earth, are put there by animal agriculture, meant for human consumption. That is absolutely insane. We did the same with the wildlife environment as well – there is now only 3% of the forests on earth, that are still considered intact. We changed the landscape, not only slightly, but by erasing most of it, making it unusable to animals, insects or wild plants, appropriated only for agriculture, grazing, and human-only environments. And, we dug up and released so much carbon into the air, it is coming close to the amount that we had on the earth, at the time of dinosaur extinction, which wiped out a third of the planet's species. And we keep doing it, even knowing what will happen, knowing that every single time this happened in the past, it created mass extinction.
I wasn't aware how serious and extreme the changes we made were. Knowing what is going out, makes it very clear why we have a crisis, it would be crazy to expect not to have one. These changes were not reported, nobody was asked to approve of them, there were no regulations or limits, no environmental studies on consequences, and it keeps going. We keep increasing the demand for agriculture and animal products, increasing our consumption even though we are running out of the natural resources used to create the products. And it is not our fault. Most of the food and meat created by destroying this land, will go to waste, for the profit of the corporations. The world will keep living in starvation, despite so much of natural life getting destroyed for food, despite the climate crisis being caused, partly by our food production.
This doesn't mean we can't sustainably feed ourselves anymore, it just means we can't do it the way we're used to. It just tells us we need to use more resilient and less land and water consuming food. Plant based diets demand less soil and emit less carbon, gardening reduces the amount of agricultural space needed to feed us, supporting and protecting wildlife wherever it's still thriving, will save both soil, animal species, and biodiversity that is very quickly fading from the planet.
I've also learned that even as we're close to the tipping point, but haven't reached it yet. Whatever we do right now that stops us from reaching it, will mean the difference between life and death to the future generations of people, animals, and plants. If we manage to make changes now, to stop the ice from melting past the tipping point, we can save millions of lives, that would end in certain death otherwise. If we can create policies that are not volountary but binding, we have a chance to save livable land, animal and plant species, biodiversity, and human quality of life. It's not too late to act, in fact, this is the vital time to act, and we're the only ones who can do it.
And the way you can act is not just by reducing waste, reducing the amount of energy you consume, reducing animal-products in your food and refusing to waste and throw away usable goods, but by being public about it. By making it clear it's a positive improvement on your life, on your quality of life, that it's both moral and enjoyable, both inspiring and encouraging others to do the same. Some of us have bigger impact on others than we might know, and if we start doing it and visibly enjoying it, there are others who will follow.
This book has taught me immense amount of science behind the climate crisis, and gave me incentive to do more than just live and feel helpless, I need to do more. I recommend this book to anyone wanting to learn more, and wanting to act more. I will be from now on, writing more about ecology and preserving the planet, and how to do it. If we're the directors of where this planet is going, we have to be so intentionally, with knowledge, wisdom and awareness of what we are doing. We can do good, and humans have been doing good, any time there's been wisdom, awareness and intention in how we're shaping the environment. And if anyone wants the book in the audio form, send me a message and I will give it to you.
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shinesurge · 3 months ago
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I think it's a side effect of having a slightly bigger audience than before, but this year I've been getting a LOT of questions about offering digital editions of the KC books so I wanted to talk about it out loud for a bit.
There are a bunch of complicated reasons I've never offered the volumes as digital downloads, and I think they mostly boil down to concerns about the pretty embarrassing lack of significant internet presence Kidd Commander has accumulated over the 11 years it's been running. The audience I DO have is very enthusiastic, and let me be clear that I appreciate how unique and cool that is, especially in the era we're in where I really have no business running things the way I do lmao
The problem is, in refusing to do any of the predatory social media bullshit that tricks people into doing advertising for my comic while pretending it's a fandom, and by taking initiative to build fandom spaces for people to hang out in myself, I've created an extremely insular community where folks don't really feel any need to help it grow. "If you build it they'll come" is true, but the other half of that is people going "hey neat this thing builds itself!" and you end up with dozens of fandom posts, hours of discussion, and even fanwork locked away in inaccessible spaces while the pages on the site consistently get no comments or interaction and the public tags are empty.
WHAT does this have to do with digital editions lol
The idea was, a thing that helps set KC apart is the webcomic thing where you're not only checking a site regularly as a routine, but you're building some impression of the author as well. My little news posts are bundled with the pages, the site gives a sense of Environment in way static editions don't. In return for offering nearly a thousand pages of completely free content the reader has to Encounter Me at some point, and be made aware that this is an operation being run by a single person, and that its survival is entirely dependent on other people reading it and supporting it. Going to the site ALSO at least lets people know a comment section /exists/, and there COULD be a community to participate in. You don't get that with the books as much, but the books are almost exclusively going to folks who already read the comic, I don't think they're floating around out there to many people who didn't buy them directly from me after reading it online.
It is objectively easier for people to binge an archive they can carry around offline with them, I completely get it. But I've watched SO many new readers fall in love with this thing in real time as they leave comments behind them through the archive, and even just forming the habit of checking the site regularly really goes a long way towards forming enough of a connection with a reader for them to stick around for the long haul. If you just read it all isolated on your phone, it stops there; it's easy to forget it's an independent operation that desperately needs your support, /I/ have no idea whether you liked it or if people are even reading, and when you're finished you'll move on to something else because there's no visible fandom to engage with.
I don't WANT to think this is what will happen, but it's already been happening here for years even without proper channels. I sort of feel like this would just be facilitating my own demise lmao. All the comics who run the way I do were ALREADY popular back before the landscape shifted to fast-fashion sensibilities, so Girl Genius offering digital editions doesn't really harm them, you know? By the time forums died their community was already so stable and self-sufficient they could quit updating the main story for a whole year and not even feel it. Gunnerkrigg is signed on with fuckin Dark Horse now. People doing the things KC does got in early and stabilized before I even got started, fandom is a different world now and I'm already barely keeping this train running on my own as it is.
But on the other hand: accessibility!! HOW many times have I wanted to engage with something but they WONT LET ME PAY THEM FOR THE THING I WANT so I just leave!! The alternative here isn't "oh if i FORCE THEM to read it online they'll stick around" it's "if i can't read it how i want then i'm skipping it". That makes total sense, /I/ do that! What about people who want the extra content in the books but can't pay international fucking shipping!! It's also an Archival issue, which absolutely kills me, but that's a whole other post lmao. There are extremely good reasons to offer another option for reading my work, but I am so anxious this would just be putting a nail in this stupid coffin I've been building already.
I've been having this conversation a lot, mostly with Lee, but it came up again this morning in an email and regardless of my own feelings: this is a thing people want, a very reasonable thing, and if I fail to provide it that's just bad business. Do y'all here have any thoughts about all this? I would like to give the people what they want and y'all are The People.
Anyway buried way down here so far I'll make another post about it: I /am/ going to offer the specials as digital downloads, permanently in the shop. They're old books by now, I'm having issues keeping them in stock anyway, and they DON'T exist online anywhere, so this isn't technically any skin off my back outside of piracy issues, which. would be a stupid thing to fret about lmao
thanks for reading all this! I'm gonna go sort through pdfs for a while
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Also for the monster au, would the babies in Twisted be more mature than the human babies, cuz they are technically premature cuz of their big head. Which is why we are wired with cuteness protection (or worse cuteness aggression) to protect the youngins.
The moment I see cute baby animals:
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When it comes to the monsters, it depends on the species! A good chunk of them would be rather small because their parent species is designed for more than one offspring (or "litters/clutches" depending on the species).
That doesn't mean it's rare for them to have only one or two kids at a time, though! For example, if we were to go with the reptilian species like the basilisk, only a few eggs are viable while the rest are decoys. This is a defensive mechanism caused by instincts that hadn't quite faded over time now that monsters and other predatory creatures around Twisted Wonderland aren't as much of a threat as before.
Anyway, monster babies develop pretty quick compared to humans as in the past, they had to grow strong enough to learn to hunt and fend for themselves when their parents had to go out hunting or foraging. Nowadays, monsters have developed a pack/flock/herd/pod mentality, meaning they can live with their family for as long as necessary until they're ready to set out and find their own path.
Does this mean they can learn to talk faster? In a way, yes. Does this mean they still know what they're saying or doing? Not quite! For them, instincts and learned behaviors can take over before their consciousness fully emerges like it would for humans. For example, I first started becoming aware of the world and the things I was doing when I was maybe 4 or 5 years old (memory is a fickle thing), though I never understood why I knew what to call the things or people the things I was calling them--I just knew it was right.
Same concept for the monsters!
If we were to talk about which species would develop even faster, it would likely be any equine/ungulate based monster! The reason being is that--in the wild--animals such as deer and buffalo or antelope and even horses and goats have babies that learn to stand and run within minutes or even hours of being born. This is to ensure the survival of the baby and that they can keep up, which means that they wouldn't naturally know how to crawl like human babies would.
Here's a silly little comic done by Litterbox Comics over on Twitter! This basically gives a bit of a comparison on how fast the baby ungulates get to their little hooves 😂
Now, despite this, please accept this imagery of a baby goat loafing and picture baby faun Riddle loafing:
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Basically, a good chunk of the monsters would have (and still can) loaf and are absolutely adorable to imagine. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna practice anatomy so I can draw baby monster boys loafing because I can!
Now, as for those that have human ancestry in their DNA, I can see some monsters growing a little slower than is normal for their species with no clear explanation why. There's nothing wrong with them physically or mentally. They're just taking a little longer to develop certain motor skills or learning things differently, and new young parents might be concerned and worried.
Doctor: "There's nothing wrong. They're perfectly fine and it happens sometimes. It's perfectly normal."
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In the end, they do develop into the fine (chaotic) young men we know and adore~!
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lynnerdo · 5 months ago
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* Deadly Encounter *
Lucanis Dellamorte x BloodMage!Reader
Slow burn, angst, aggression, enemies to lovers, death threats, OOC!Lucanis, blood and injury, slow romance, threats of violence.
Current chapter - Arlathan Next chapter - Shadow On A03
***
The forest was alive with the sounds of the night, the rustling of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl, and the quiet murmur of your footsteps as you moved through the underbrush. It had been a while since you visited Arlathan forest, the memory faint and nostalgic at this point. Something about this place always enchanted you. Tonight was no different. The shadows seemed to cling to you, a familiar comfort after years of living on the run. The life of an ex-Venatori blood mage was one of constant vigilance. Tonight, you had hoped to find solace in the wilderness, away from those who would hunt you down for what you were—or rather, for what you had become.
But peace was elusive.
You felt them before you saw them—two presences, their aura unmistakably dangerous and mysterious. Rook and Neve, the fabled duo you had heard whispers about. They had a reputation, but it was the third presence that made your blood run cold. A familiar story, a threatening sight. The air thickened, the night suddenly charged with a palpable tension. Lucanis Dellamorte. The name alone was enough to make even the most seasoned Venatori tremble. The Mage Killer. The Demon. He went by many names under the Venatori, but no one dared even mention him by name. An unspoken mantra. As if he would suddenly appear if you did.
They were here for you. Why else would they be in Arlathan forest. You decide to move away from them, trying to get to a safer position before you give yourself away, just in case they would confront you. As you made it to a stealthier position now, you have eyes on all three of them. Two of them. Your eyes get more narrow. Where was Lucanis?
You barely had time to react as he emerged from the darkness, his silhouette imposing against the dim light of the moon. Lucanis moved like a predator, every step deliberate, his eyes fixed on you with a predatory intensity that made your heart race. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with an aura that screamed danger. There was no mistaking the intent in his gaze—he was here to kill.
Before you could utter a word, he was upon you, a blur of motion that left you gasping for breath. His hand gripped your throat, slamming you against the nearest tree with a force that left you dazed. “You’re a long way from home, blood mage,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, like the rumble of distant thunder. You could feel a faint breathe on your cheek, he was close.
You struggled, summoning your magic, the familiar pull of blood within your veins answering your call. But Lucanis was faster, his grip tightening as he slammed you back again, the world spinning as pain shot through your skull.
“I’m going to ask you once,” he hissed, his breath hot against your ear. “How do you want to die?”
Defiance surged within you. You’d been hunted before, nearly killed more times than you could count, but you had survived. You were not going to cower before him, not now, not ever. “Let. Go.” You spat out at him, trying to catch one of his hands on your body with yours. With a sharp inhale, you focused your will, letting the blood magic rise to the surface, a searing pain coursing through your body as you channeled it.
Lucanis felt the shift, the air around you both thickening with raw power. His eyes narrowed, and he reacted swiftly, but you were ready. A wave of force pushed him back, enough to give you a moment’s respite. You raised your hand, the blood from your earlier wounds forming into a deadly blade of energy. You aimed it at him, threatening more than going in for the kill.
But before you could strike, he was on you again, moving with a speed that was almost inhuman. You slashed out with your magic, but he dodged, his expression darkening with something almost like… amusement? No, this was more intense—a challenge, perhaps. He was being cocky about it as well.
Then, with a suddenness that stole your breath, his foot made impact with your chest.
He moved fast, his hand tight around your throat, before he smacked your head against the tree again. The surge of power you’d been gathering faltered, your concentration shattered by the unexpected contact. You felt a rush of adrenaline, a spark of electricity that jolted through your body, confusing your senses.
Your first instinct was to resist, to fight back, but you found it harder and harder to do so, your head twirling on the inside, your vision betraying your head wound. He looked demonic, as you had pictured him to be. The only thing missing were purple lit up eyes.
A voice rang out—Rook’s, cutting through the haze like a blade. “Lucanis, stop!”
Lucanis pulled back, he kept his hold on you, but his grip loosened just enough for you to breathe, to think. Your heart hammered in your chest, a wild rhythm that matched the storm in your mind.
He leaned in close, his voice a whisper against your ears. “This isn’t over, blood mage. You might have survived this night, but don’t think for a second that you’re safe.”
With that, he released you, stepping back as Rook and Neve approached, their expressions unreadable. You stood there, chest heaving, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The fight was far from over, but for now, you had survived. And as Lucanis turned away, you looked over to Rook. Your expression grew aggressive. “Maybe you should keep your dog leashed next time.” Lucanis smirked at that, almost scoffed at your description.
Rook was apologetic, Neve even more so. You were bleeding from your head injury, but you quickly managed to heal it yourself. “It wasn’t our… intention,” Rook said as he glanced over at Lucanis, “…to hurt you. I’m terribly sorry.” He did seem sincere at least, as you stared at him blankly in the face. Lucanis interjected, “Venatori are used to pain, are they not?”, he received a nasty glance from Neve at that, indicating he was taking it too far.
Rook cleared his throat in annoyance, “We’re actually here to ask you a favour.” You almost laughed. They had just beaten you up, and now they were asking for a favour. Instead of laughing you stared at Rook’s face, dumbfounded. The nerve these people had. However, you were intrigued for some reason. You decided to hear them out.
As Neve informed you of all the events that had been happening in Minrathous, the entire Dread Wolf/Solas thing and the fact that they were recruiting people to help fight the Elven gods, you actually burst out laughing. This was one very sick joke they were playing on you. Rook and Neve never laughed however, Lucanis frowned at your reaction even. It took you a good 5 seconds to realise they weren’t joking, at all.
Upon asking you to join as a companion, Lucanis had stared at Rook as if he had grown a second head. “You’re joking,” he had said, his voice low and laced with incredulity. “There’s no way I’m working with a blood mage.”
Rook ignored the comment, gaining disapproval from Lucanis, as you got invited to return with them to the Lighthouse, wherever that was. On your way back you had shared your knowledge about Solas, how you met with the Inquisitor in search for him. You kept the information you found in Arlathan for yourself but wondered how they knew about your whereabouts. Upon arriving at the lighthouse you were in awe of the sheer scale of the place, as you got your own floating quarter, to make yourself feel at home. You hoped you would eventually feel it.
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remeberm3 · 22 days ago
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storm | k.m
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⎯⎯just the two of them, dancing through the storm together.
warnings: none just fluff
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The storm outside had escalated into a full-blown spectacle—thunder cracked, lightning split the sky, and the rain hammered the windows like a thousand tiny drummers. Inside the Mikaelson mansion, it was all too easy to forget the chaos of the outside world. The only thing that mattered was the electric tension between Klaus Mikaelson and her, standing inches apart in the grand foyer.
She raised an eyebrow as Klaus gave her a sidelong glance. “You sure you want to be here right now?” he asked, his voice rich with a playful edge. “I’m not sure the storm’s the only thing that could sweep you off your feet tonight.”
She laughed, a sound as carefree as the storm’s thunder. “Oh, please. I think I’ve survived much worse than you, Klaus Mikaelson.”
He smirked, stepping closer until the tips of their shoes barely touched. “Is that so?” His voice was teasing, his lips curling into that dangerous, knowing smile he was so good at. “Then I guess you won’t mind if I make things a little… more interesting.”
She grinned. “Bring it on, blondie.”
The jab hung in the air like a challenge, and Klaus’s grin turned into something far more predatory. “Blondie, huh? I’m not sure I appreciate that, darling.”
“I don’t think you’re the one who gets to choose what I appreciate,” she teased, crossing her arms with a cocky tilt of her chin. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to tell you, your hair is almost as wild as this storm. But I’m not judging.”
Klaus’s eyes flickered with amusement, and before she knew it, he was reaching for her, sweeping her into his arms with no more warning than the thundering sky outside.
“Oh, don’t think I’m done with you just yet,” he said, his voice dripping with mock menace as he twirled her around, her feet barely touching the ground.
She squealed, half-laughing, half-screaming, and completely caught off guard. “What are you doing? Are you actually trying to dance right now?”
“Oh, I think you’ll find I’m a rather good dancer when I have the right company,” Klaus replied smoothly, stepping into a spin, his grip around her tightening to keep her close. “Besides, what better way to weather a storm than to dance through it?”
Her heart pounded, but there was a twinkle of fun in her eyes. “Klaus, I swear, you really think you can turn a stormy night into a romantic one, don’t you?”
Klaus spun her again, making her laugh. “Why not? I’m a man of many talents.”
With a theatrical sigh, she placed her hand on his chest and looked up at him with mock seriousness. “And I’m sure you have many talents. Too bad dancing is not one of them.”
Klaus narrowed his eyes playfully, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Oh, really? You want to test me on that, darling?”
“I’m just saying, you seem more like a… sit-in-the-corner-and-brood type of guy,” she teased, crossing her arms again. “You know, with that whole ‘I’m the misunderstood villain’ thing you’ve got going on.”
Klaus’s lips curled into a full-blown grin. “I’ll have you know, I’m not misunderstood. I’m perfectly understood. I’m just the bad boy you can’t resist.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, okay. Sure, Klaus. Whatever you say.”
Another crack of thunder rattled the windows, but the noise only served to make the moment feel more electric. They were standing in the middle of the foyer, playful banter filling the room, the storm howling outside, but it felt like it was just the two of them in the world.
Suddenly, Klaus pulled her in, his fingers weaving into her hair as he looked down at her, his expression softening for just a moment. “You’re not as immune to me as you like to pretend,” he said, his voice a little more serious now.
She tilted her head, sensing the subtle shift in the atmosphere, but still refusing to back down. “And you’re not as invincible as you like to believe.”
He laughed, low and smooth, clearly appreciating her boldness. “I never claimed to be invincible. Just… difficult to resist.”
“Yeah, well, I’d say the jury’s still out on that one.”
“Is that so?” Klaus raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer until their lips were almost touching. “Because if you wanted, you could prove me wrong, you know.”
The playful tension simmered, but before she could respond, the room was shaken by another roar of thunder—this time, closer, louder, like the storm was giving them one last challenge.
“Okay, okay,” she laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. “You win, I’ll admit it—you’re impossible to resist.”
Klaus smirked, not one to let an opportunity slip by. He leaned in and kissed her—soft, slow, the kind of kiss that made everything else fade away. No more teasing, no more games. Just him, and her, and the storm outside.
When they pulled back, he smiled softly at her, his arms still wrapped around her waist. “You know, love, I could say the same thing about you.”
She smiled back, the warmth of the kiss still lingering on her lips. “You’re not so bad yourself, Klaus.”
He kissed her again, this time with a gentleness that surprised them both. When they finally broke apart, she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the weight of the night settle comfortably around them.
“I think we’ve weathered the worst of it,” Klaus said quietly, his voice tender in a way she’d rarely heard.
She nodded, pulling him a little closer. “Yeah, I think so, too. But we’ll still be stuck in this storm together, won’t we?”
He smiled, a mixture of mischief and affection in his eyes. “For as long as you can handle me, darling.”
She laughed softly, wrapping her arms around him. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I can handle you just fine.”
And just like that, the storm outside seemed to calm, as if the universe had decided that Klaus and she were finally in sync. They didn’t need to fight the storm anymore—they’d found a rhythm, their own little world within the chaos.
“I guess,” Klaus murmured, looking down at her with a tenderness that made her heart flutter, “this is what happens when we let the storm come to us, instead of running away from it.”
Her fingers traced circles on his chest, and she smiled up at him, feeling more content than she had in a long time. “Yeah, Klaus. It’s pretty damn perfect.”
The lightning had finally passed, and the rain, while still falling, had become a soothing backdrop to the peace between them. And in that moment, nothing else mattered—just the two of them, dancing through the storm together.
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i guess you could call this the calm before the storm. hihihi
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riinniies · 18 days ago
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|| Itoshi Sae ||
Tw!! Gore, zombies, cannibalism, ooc Sae(he's literally a zombie), hi!! Its been.. a while. 😰 and damn my imagination running wild..
Plot : itoshi sae as a zombie and you as a human who cannot die aka immortal. Who knows how many years since the earth has been destroyed, you who have no family anymore-all your family died either because of aging or were killed or eaten by zombies-so now you are alone, just wandering alone, whenever your feet made you walk.
But then you met him, again, he who was at first just a stranger and you who then left him because he turned into a zombie before.
Hope u like it!
My writings
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You wandered through the remnants of what was once civilization—abandoned cities overtaken by nature, crumbling buildings swallowed by vines. The sky was an eternal gray, suffocating everything beneath it. The air was thick with the stench of rot and decay, like the earth itself had long since given up. Time had lost its meaning, and now it felt like it had been centuries since the end. You had forgotten what it was like to be part of a world that was alive.
Your immortality was both a gift and a curse. You survived, untouched by hunger, thirst, or death, but it was as if you were trapped in a decaying shell, alone in a world that no longer cared. Everyone you loved had long since perished—some from age, others by the jaws of the undead.
The zombies no longer terrified you. Their rotting, putrid forms had ceased to shock you. They were nothing more than grotesque shadows, mindless creatures that stumbled through the wasteland. You didn't care anymore.
•••••
And then, fate played its cruelest joke.
In the ruins of a stadium, you saw him: Sae Itoshi, or what remained of him. The man you once knew was now a twisted mockery—a bloated, decaying shell. His once-pristine features were now barely recognizable, a grotesque mask of skin and bone, with deep, gaping wounds that dripped with the stench of rot. His sharp eyes, now glowing with an eerie hunger, fixed on you with a predatory intensity. Without a moment’s hesitation, he lunged.
You didn’t run.
Why would you? You couldn’t die.
But the cold knot in your chest tightened, knowing that the monster before you was something far worse than just death.
When his teeth sank into your flesh, the world exploded in pain. His teeth weren’t sharp—they were jagged, like broken shards of glass. They tore through your skin with a sickening crunch, ripping through muscle and sinew. The sound of tearing flesh was deafening, like fabric being shredded. Blood splattered, hot and thick, coating the ground in a dark, sticky pool. You screamed, but it wasn’t out of fear. It was the agony of being torn apart, slowly, piece by piece.
His claws dug into your skin, tearing through your flesh with merciless brutality. The nails were long, thick, and stained with something black and foul. They scraped across your bones, pulling them apart with grotesque ease. Your ribs cracked under the force, the sharp edges of bone scraping against the insides of your chest like a knife grinding through meat. Blood poured freely from your open wounds, spilling in torrents from your neck, your arms, your chest.
The pain was indescribable. Every shred of your body felt like it was being ripped from you, and yet you couldn’t die. Not yet.
And then, as always, you healed.
The blood that had pooled around you began to seep back into your skin, the torn flesh knitting itself together with obscene speed. The edges of your wounds sealed, the bones mended, but the pain didn’t stop. It only shifted, becoming a dull throb as your body slowly put itself back together, a grotesque parody of rebirth.
Sae pulled back, his bloodstained face frozen in confusion. He stared at you, as if trying to make sense of what had just happened. His glowing eyes flickered, uncertain. A low growl rumbled in his chest, but there was hesitation in it, a moment of pause that made your skin crawl.
"I told you," you gasped, your voice a hoarse whisper, "I can’t die."
Sae's eyes narrowed, and then he lunged again.
This time, you didn’t fight back. What was the point? You had fought, struggled, tried to protect what was left of your humanity in the early days. But now, there was nothing left to fight for. No reason to resist. You simply endured as he tore into you once more.
His teeth ripped through your neck, and you felt the skin tear open like wet paper. His claws raked across your stomach, pulling the flesh apart. You could feel the viscera inside you spilling out, hot and slick, but it didn’t matter. Your body would heal, and he would keep coming, over and over again. Your body was just a vessel, and no matter how much he tore at it, it would always mend itself, never truly breaking.
You lay beneath him, your body a patchwork of shredded flesh and bone, staring at the bleak, gray sky as he fed. The agony was unbearable, but it was almost comforting in its familiarity. It was a constant, like the weight of the earth itself, a reminder that nothing in this world would ever be right again.
But then something strange happened.
As Sae devoured you, his movements slowed. His gnawing became less frantic, more deliberate. His teeth, still embedded in your skin, paused. He pulled back, the blood dripping from his mouth, and stared at you. His glowing eyes flickered, as if some vestige of recognition was stirring beneath the hunger.
"Do you..." you whispered, your voice barely more than a rasp, "Do you remember me?"
He didn’t answer, but his gaze lingered, not with the mindless hunger of a monster, but with something else—something deeper. Something unsettling.
"You’re still in there," you breathed, trembling as your body healed. "Aren’t you?"
He crouched beside you, his head tilting as if studying you. Slowly, cautiously, his cold hand reached out, brushing against your cheek. The touch was ice, devoid of warmth, yet there was something—an odd tenderness—beneath it. His fingers dug into your skin, dragging across the surface as if testing how much of you was still human.
You didn’t know what to feel. Fear was there, of course, but there was something else. A terrible, gnawing realization that you were no longer just a victim of fate. You were something far worse.
You weren’t just alive. You weren’t alone. And Sae, the thing that had once been a person you knew, was now your eternal companion in this nightmare.
And the worst part? You would never escape.
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winxanity-ii · 9 days ago
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⌜Catch Me If You Can | Chapter 19 Chapter 19 | mercy and mischief⌟
╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝
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❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘
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The hum of divine energy in the air grew deafening, vibrating through your very bones as Apollo's golden aura flared brighter than ever. It felt like standing on the edge of a collapsing world, every breath heavy with the weight of his presence.
You didn't dare move, your feet rooted to the marble floor, your pulse thundering in your ears as you braced yourself for his judgment.
Apollo raised his hand, the Sunstone glowing softly in his palm. His gaze bored into you, unyielding and sharp as the sun itself. His voice echoed through the cavernous shrine, smooth and commanding, yet laced with something else—contempt, maybe? Amusement? It was impossible to tell. "Let this mark serve as proof that you've trespassed against me..." His tone dipped dangerously low, the words wrapping around you like a noose, "...and survived."
Before you could even process his meaning, a searing heat flared against your left wrist. You hissed sharply, yanking your arm back as the sensation burned into your skin—not unbearable, but enough to draw your focus entirely.
Your eyes darted down, widening at the sight of a faint golden sun symbol etched into your flesh. It shimmered softly, a strange warmth radiating from it, almost as if it were alive.
"Wha..." The word slipped out, your voice barely above a whisper as your mind scrambled to make sense of what had just happened. The tingling in your wrist persisted, but the pain faded quickly, leaving behind only the strange, pulsing warmth of the mark.
Apollo's smirk deepened at your confusion as he eased back onto his throne. His movements were deliberate, graceful, and annoyingly confident. Tilting his head slightly, he rested it on his hand, his golden eyes gleaming with something between amusement and satisfaction. "Funny..." he mused, his voice softer now, though no less commanding. "It's a reminder of your transgression, but it carries no real harm."
You stared at him, your lips parting to speak, but no words came out. His gaze remained fixed on you, sharp and calculating, and you couldn't help but feel like he was unraveling every thought in your head with a single glance.
Apollo continued, his tone dipping into something almost begrudgingly thoughtful. "Few mortals would dare what you've done. Fewer still would have stood here and told me the truth." His fingers drummed idly against the armrest of his throne as he spoke, each word weighted with meaning. "Perhaps one day, you'll learn to direct such boldness to worthier causes."
His words sent a shiver through you—not from the threat, but from the almost offhand way he delivered them, as if he were testing you, searching for something in your reaction.
His golden eyes darkened just slightly, their glow flickering with a strange intensity as they locked onto yours. "Perhaps that passion of yours might even find its way to something greater. Perhaps... worship."
The air between you felt electric, the subtle shift in his tone impossible to ignore. There was something almost predatory in the way his gaze lingered, a power that reminded you exactly who—and what—you were standing before.
Before the weight of his stare could press further into you, Hermes moved, stepping forward with purpose. His wings materialized in a flash of brilliant white, flaring wide and commanding attention as though to shield you from the weight of Apollo's words. The playful smirk that usually adorned his face was gone, replaced by a cold, unyielding seriousness. "Not a chance."
Apollo's lips curled into a small, amused smile, his golden brows raising ever so slightly. "So protective, Hermes," he mused, his tone dripping with something between mockery and intrigue. "It almost makes me wonder what she's done to earn it."
Hermes didn't respond immediately, his golden eyes narrowing as his wings shifted, the faint shimmer of their feathers catching the light. It was subtle, but you could feel his irritation radiating off him like heat.
He wasn't playing around anymore, and that fact alone made your breath hitch.
Apollo let the silence linger before leaning back into his throne, the light around him dimming just slightly. "Fine," he said, his tone still laced with authority but quieter now. "Take your little thief. But remember this, mortal—you owe me for being so merciful." His voice dipped into something darker, sharper. "And I always collect."
"Drama queen," Hermes muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, and the sharp tension in the air broke just a fraction.
As the two of you stepped out of the grand chamber, you couldn't resist glancing back at Apollo, still seated on his radiant throne. His gaze was no longer on you, his attention on the stone in his hand, but the lingering aura of his presence still pressed against your senses.
Hermes leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he murmured, "Don't let his compliments go to your head. Next thing you know, you'll be building him a shrine."
You couldn't help but smirk, the tension in your chest easing slightly as you shot back, "Jealous, Hermes?"
His grin returned, smug and full of its usual flair. "Please. If you're building a shrine for anyone, it'll be me. Preferably one with good lighting and a few statues of me looking particularly dashing."
You rolled your eyes, but a small laugh escaped before you could stop it. For the first time in what felt like hours, the air around you felt lighter. And though Apollo's parting words echoed in the back of your mind, you let yourself hold onto this moment of ease—however fleeting it might be.
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The two of you walked in silence as you left the shrine behind; the golden glow of Apollo's temple faded behind you as Hermes guided you back into the forest. The cool shadows of the night closed in, a stark contrast to the suffocating brightness you'd just left behind.
The dirt path beneath your feet felt uneven, every step sending dull aches through your exhausted body. Your arms and legs were bruised, your mind still spinning with the weight of everything that had happened.
You were alive. You had faced a god and lived to tell the tale.
The silence between you and Hermes stretched, broken only by the soft rustle of the underbrush and the faint crunch of your footsteps on the path. The night felt endless, the stars peeking through the canopy above like scattered promises you couldn't quite reach.
You wanted to say something—anything—but the words sat heavy in your throat, unwilling to form.
Finally, Hermes stopped, his hand brushing your arm to halt you as well just before the path bent into deeper shadows. Turning to face you, his grin was back, but it wasn't sharp or teasing. It was softer, lingering on the edges of something you couldn't quite place.
His wings, still faintly shimmering, folded neatly behind him as he cocked his head. "Well, look at that," he said, his voice carrying an odd gentleness. "You made it. I knew you would."
You let out a breathy snort, crossing your arms despite the faint twinge of soreness. "Is this the part where you say 'I told you so?'"
His grin widened, and the familiar glint of mischief danced in his golden eyes. "Oh, absolutely. But I'll save it for later. You're tired. Can't have you passing out mid-lecture—it'd ruin the dramatic effect."
The corner of your lips twitched, but before you could fire back with something sarcastic, Hermes stepped closer. The shift in his demeanor was subtle but undeniable; his voice dropped, quiet but edged with the faintest trace of amusement. "Try not to rob any more gods, yeah? I won't always be around to save you."
You rolled your eyes, but the quick motion didn't hide the way your pulse leapt as Hermes leaned in—just close enough for his breath to ghost against your cheek. The world around you seemed to still, the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the forest fading into the background. "But if you do... " he murmured, his voice dipping into a tone that sent a shiver down your spine, "well, you know where to find me."
Your brain barely had time to process the words before he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. It was quick—infuriatingly quick—yet it left a warmth lingering on your skin that refused to fade.
He pulled back, his smirk as maddening as ever, like he hadn't just shattered the delicate truce between teasing banter and something far more dangerous.
"Admit it," he said, his voice light, but his golden eyes gleaming with mischief. "You'll miss me."
You opened your mouth, your usual arsenal of biting, snarky retorts scrambling for position in your head, but none of them made it past your lips. Instead, your voice betrayed you, softer and quieter than you intended. "Not too much."
His smirk only widened, as though your attempt at indifference had done nothing but amuse him further. "We'll see about that." He gave a mock bow, wings shifting slightly as he straightened. "Until next time, little thief." With a wink that was both infuriating and endearing, he turned and disappeared, his form melting into the shadows of the forest. His laughter echoed behind him, light and carefree, until even that faded into the stillness of the night.
You stood there, rooted to the spot, your thoughts an incoherent jumble of emotions you weren't ready to unpack. The warmth of his kiss still lingered, a maddening reminder of the god who had danced into your life with chaos and charm.
Shaking your head, you let out a quiet laugh, more at yourself than anything else. And as you turned to continue down the dirt path, you couldn't help the small, inevitable smile that tugged at the corners of your lips as you began the long walk back.
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A/N: AHHHHHHH, Y'ALL, THEY SORT OF KISSED?!?!?!? 😭😭😭 i feel like a proud parent smh...
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rjzimmerman · 6 months ago
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Excerpt from this story from Smithsonian Magazine:
Long absent from Yosemite National Park, peregrine falcons are making a comeback with help from some unlikely allies: rock climbers.
Rock climbers and peregrine falcons could easily be at odds, since they both flock to the sheer granite cliffs of the 1,169-square-mile California park. The presence of climbers can disturb nesting falcons, and rock climbing is listed as a potential threat to the species. But instead, humans and birds have forged a unique partnership that has allowed peregrine falcons to flourish after decades of decline.
This week, the National Park Service and the Yosemite Conservancy provided an update on the peregrine falcon recovery within the park. In the spring of 2024, naturalists counted 17 breeding pairs—a nearly 113 percent increase from the eight pairs counted in 2009—as well as 15 nests and 25 chicks. Since 2009, 51 total nesting sites located within Yosemite have produced 385 baby birds.
“Peregrines are at the top of the food chain and the most susceptible to contamination,” says Frank Dean, president of Yosemite Conservancy, to the San Francisco Chronicle’s Sam Whiting. “So to have them bounce back to this degree is a sign of the health of the entire Yosemite ecosystem.”
Peregrine falcons are the world’s fastest animal, reaching speeds of up to 200 miles per hour when they dive from great heights to catch their prey. These majestic birds live on every continent except Antarctica, seeking out rocky cliffs to build their nests and raise their young.
Once abundant around the world, their numbers began to dwindle after World War II because of the use of pesticides like dieldrin, aldrin and DDT (dichloro-diphenyl-trichloroethane). Dieldrin and aldrin are toxic and killed the birds outright, while DDT weakened chicks’ eggshells, lowering their odds of survival.
At the behest of the Santa Cruz Predatory Bird Research Group, climbers once again scaled El Capitan writes the Mercury News’ Lisa M. Krieger—but this time, they collected samples of eggshells from the nest and brought them back down for testing.
The eggs were delicate and thin, so researchers decided the best course of action was to incubate them in a laboratory, then return the hatchlings to the nest. Rock climbers helped with this, too, much to the chagrin of the protective peregrine falcon parents: As the climbers carefully removed eggs or replaced chicks, the falcons dive-bombed them—one bird even struck a climber’s backpack.
“Just when I thought I was going to die, they would flare their wings above my neck and glide off, just inches from me,” says Ken Yager, one of the climbers who helped with the efforts and the founder of the Yosemite Climbing Association, to the Mercury News.
Yager’s story illustrates how climbers were willing to “risk all” to help the birds, as Rob Roy Ramey II, a biologist and climber who helped with the project, told Outside’s Ula Chrobak in 2018.
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