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foster-the-moths · 11 months

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emergence (septendecim au)

warnings: body horror, unreality(?), dehumanization, mentions of insects, mentions of suicide, and gore.

adam is trapped in a web of his own making. the way out he finds is not the one he was meant to take.

prequel to verify. 3,289 words

adam had been walking for hours.

well, maybe that was a bit of an overstatement. it had been over an hour, maybe two by this point. but it felt like he had been walking for an entire night. and he wanted to get the fuck out of this godawful nightmare already.

after his fight with jonah, he had descended the stairs into the basement, and he regretted it more than anything in his life. from the main room, it had split into branching corridors and sprawling chambers of bleak concrete, until it could no longer really be called a 'basement'. he had doubled back once he had realized his mistake, but the original room had vanished, taking the stairs along with it. he was trapped in an incomprehensible maze, with only his wits and the equipment in his backpack.

none of the architecture of it made any sense. the walls of corridors were carved into alcoves and niches that served no purpose, with seemingly no thought behind where they were placed.

in some rooms, the ceiling was so impossibly high he couldn't even see it. some of them were so vast he felt like an ant, miniscule and insignificant. he would gaze up, entranced by flying buttresses that would feel at home on some sort of grim cathedral, all of them interlocked into a mesh, each connecting to the opposite wall. some had enormous stained glass windows, arching above his head towards heaven. but they were dark and dull, as there was no sunlight streaming through them, only more concrete behind their beautiful visages. they were too high up for him to consider escaping out of, anyways, so he never stayed long.

some rooms were brutally industrial, odd angles and rectangular ledges extending out of sight. cubbyholes and recesses overlapping over each other like holes dug by maggots, no intelligence behind their placement. he passed a room with cubicles, an ever-expanding grid of harsh stone. he didn't go into that room, the door had been too narrow, if it even was a door.

out of all of it, though, it was worse when the concrete faded into clear glass. at first he had been elated, thinking he could break through it and be rid of the nightmarish illusion he was trapped in. until he saw what was behind it. he couldn't really make out exactly what it was, a murky darkness obscuring most of it, but what he could make out made him wish he couldn't see any of it at all. hands, pressed flat against the glass, and eyes that pierced through the nebulous crimson of its body and drilled into his own. it followed him, sometimes for just a few minutes, sometimes for miles. 'followed' was the wrong word. it never moved, whatever it was its body stretched past any distance he walked, as inifinite as the concrete that enclosed him.

and through it all, he was overcome with an unbearable shroud of dread, guilt, and terror. the magnitude of it was palpable, crushing him from the outside in, making it difficult to breathe. his jittery movements exacerbating his fear as it cast odd shadows against the walls in his peripherals, dark shapes that cut through the haze of red lighting that permeated the air.

he should have listened to jonah. he was losing his mind, and he never even got the answers he was looking for. he was going to die in this wretched 'basement' alone. and nobody would ever know. except, maybe, for jonah.

jonah. at first adam had been furious, baring his teeth in a snarl at his radio as jonah pushed, and pushed, and kept pushing until he dared to bring his mother into their argument. the sheer audacity they had to admit that they believed adam's mother mother was dead, that his search was futile sent adam over the edge. adam had screamed at him to just fucking leave, and he did. the one person adam thought he could maybe rely on, who had promised to stick by his side on his quest for knowledge had bailed out on him, leaving him behind because of a 'bad feeling'. good riddance, adam had thought to himself as he descended the stairs into his doom. if jonah really cared so little about him, then he wasn't going to let himself be bothered by it. hell, did he even care about jonah? the part of him that said yes had been drowned out by his feverish rage, caustic and burning him from the inside out.

but all fires die out, and after adam's anger sputtered out and left him feeling hollow and fatigued, something else had begun to take its place. the emptiness became a gnawing trepidation, until slowly, yet all at once, it surged into a chest-heaving panic. regret, confusion, and anxiety reigned supreme in his mind, replaying his words and actions in his head like a video on loop. his transgressions haunted him; the ways he had treated the only people that ever cared about him weighed heavy on his conscience.

adam murray was no stranger to guilt, even if would never admit it, but the intensity with which it burned under his skin in this maze was unlike anything he had ever experienced. usually he could shrug it off with ease, they should have known better than to push him to react, should know by now how he lashes out, but now he found himself questioning himself. sure, he was working on his volatile emotions, his friends were helping him recognize when he was about to do or say something he would eventually regret, but... it was almost as if he couldn't stop himself from hurting other people. it was almost as if he was made for it, something whispered in his mind.

his own head was as inescapable as the labyrinth he was doomed to traverse, and he think he knows why. he has some terrible feeling that this place wanted something from him, and it wouldn't let him out until he gave it what it wanted.

just as his dread roils, about to reach a fever pitch, he stumbles his way through another doorway, and into a room unlike all of the others. one that he had passed through many times before. a simple, plain box of a room made of bare concrete. it is what the basement should looked like when he first stepped into it, minus the stairs. no improbable architeture or dizzying layout, just a normal room. and in the middle of the room sits a tv, playing the same nonsensical infomercials on loop. mocking him with distorted images of the outside world, the faces behind the screen askew in ways he could not place.

he sighs, his breath catching in his throat. he's not sure whether he's relieved to be free of the endless silence, or annoyed by the mindless cacophony of sound effects, gratingly catchy jingles, and indecipherable gibberish pouring from the speakers of the tv.

he walks to one of the corners of the room, and shrugs off his backpack, slinging it off his arm and onto the floor. he leans back until he feels his back hit the wall behind him, and lets his body slide to the floor. he's exhausted. his feet hurt. his head hurts. he doesn't want to keep going. he twists, and eases himself onto the floor until he's lying on his back, staring at the dull ceiling blankly. he closes his eyes. maybe if he falls asleep, he'll wake up in the van, jonah behind the wheel, radio playing some stupid pop song. maybe.

there is a room. he is in the room, he realizes.

sunlight bleeds through a window, casting golden light on the wooden floorboards.

in the middle of the room, an apple sits on the floor.

he holds it in his hand, he cannot remember walking up to it, or picking it up, but he is holding it regardless.

it is red. there is not much more to say about it.

when he bites into it, it does not feel like biting into an apple.

he does not like it. he spits it out.

he sets the apple back down on the ground, it stares at him.

he tears out one of his own ribs.

and another.

and-

he wakes up.

he has moved in his sleep, lying down on his stomach in front of the tv, as if he had crawled towards it whilst unconscious. its screen displays an image of an apple with a bite taken out of it, and he squints his eyes against the bright light searing into them. it fades to black, but it does not turn off, bathing the room in nothing more than a dim glow. as his brain starts to catch up with his surroundings, he pushes himself up onto his elbows, and sits up. the unnatural red luminescence in the air is gone, only the faint light from the tv remains. his head is clear, no longer plagued by spiraling self-loathing and despair. everything seems… normal. was it really just a dream, a nightmare? there is a discomfort in his chest, but he pushes himself to his feet anyways. he sways for a moment, but when the stars clear from his vision, he sees stairs. a way out. he bolts towards them, tripping over himself in his haste to escape, legs tangling as he falls to the ground and pushes himself back up again. he's shambled halfway across the room when the glow of the television illuminates the room once more.

and like the fool he is, he looks behind him. and he sees a face that is very, very familiar.

what have you done?

pain lances up and down his limbs, catching him off guard. he tumbles to the floor with a shout, colliding with the ground harshly. he curls in on himself, shaking as his body starts to burn. he hisses through clenched teeth, trying in vain to reach out a hand towards the staircase.

you rejected the gift of knowledge.

his hand splinters, cracking bones (a snapped neck) and shifting tendons (a taught rope), and he screams (a child's wails).

you cannot escape what you are.

his arms branch out like trees, then violently snap back into place as he sees a room he had buried in his memories. a crib. a television. a woman hanging by her neck. he cannot speak, cannot scream as his ribcage opens, blooming outwards and collapsing in on itself, a flower in reverse, dead and born again each time he takes a breath. he tries to open his mouth, to cry, to beg, but his jaw feels as though it is fused to his skull, refusing to so much as budge. the screech bubbles up from his chest instead, resounding against his ribs. there is something other than tears running down his cheeks, and it burns the seams that have opened there, beckoning forth a swarm of unknown little things that vie to pierce through the meat of his face.

He is the rotting corpse of a fallen tree, his bones like fungus sprouting from the empty husk of his flesh. He is smoke, no longer tethered to a solid form, unraveling and curling as it fills the room without restraint. He is a bloated corpse, on the verge of bursting with a million maggots chewing tunnels through empty veins.

He is a cicada, bursting free from his own skin after 17 long years of slumber, shrieking as he becomes something else, something hollow.

and then it stops. the agony courses through his veins still, aftershocks of the torture his body just endured, but everything stays still. his limbs tremble, but nothing shifts under his skin. it is over. it is done.

his ears ring as footsteps sound from behind him, inevitable in their approach. they come to a halt at his right side, accompanied by a deep sigh.

this was not supposed to happen. you were not supposed to choose this.

a foot wedges itself under his chest and lifts upwards, flipping him onto his back. he lets out a whine that sounds more like a computer's whirring than a human being, and curls his broken limbs inwards like a dying insect.

what am i supposed to do with this? you've ruined everything.

a hand, and another, and another, and another. on his chest, gripping his shoulders, tugging on his ribs.

get up.

he does not want to get up. he does not want to move. he arcs his back to escape the grasp trying to haul him up, straining against the pressure. there is a snap, and he crashes back to the ground. he opens his eyes to see his father holding one of his ribs in its hand. it sighs again.

disappointing.

it looks at him in contempt, and begins to fade into the air. its eyes glimmer one last time with a boiling animosity before it disappears fully, leaving nothing but static in the air.

he closes his eyes, and lets his body fade away.

---

adam wakes up with his back to a concrete floor, staring at a ceiling as he tries to piece together where he is. his eyes feel crusty, his eyelashes sticking together as he tries to blink away his fatigue. he isn't quite sure where he is, this doesn't look like hq, and it certainly isn't the van. his body is sore, his limbs feel like they are glued to the ground, and he honestly doesn't really want to try and piece anything together at the moment, not with his head buzzing the way it is. maybe he should just go back to sleep? that sounds good to him. his back hurts from laying flat on the hard ground, so he shifts, rolling onto his side.

...

there is something wrong.

he is snapped out of his fog, instantly aware of the ways his limbs are bending the wrong way, bending in ways that shouldn't be possible. he tries to push himself up with his arms, but they don't move right, and it's almost as if they've changed. his breath quickens and he begins to panic, thrashing more and more frantically with each attempt to move going oh so horribly wrong. he kicks and writhes in place, unable to make sense of what has happened to him, until abruptly, he stops.

this isn't getting him anywhere. he needs to calm down, take things one step at a time. if he lets himself get overwhelmed, he will make it worse for himself, and anyone else that might be around. he takes a shuddering breath in through his nose, only to find he cannot let it out through his mouth. he shoves down the spike of panic he feels at the realization, one thing at a time, and tries to focus. he is now lying on his stomach, and he starts his assessment of himself with his left arm.

it is broken. it is draped in front of him, his elbow pointed skyward and his hand settled down on the floor. the sharp points of shattered bone tear through the sleeve of his hoodie from where his arm is split midway between his elbow and wrist. smaller shards poke out of his hand and fingers, some of them twisted out of place. his shoulder must be broken somehow as well, because his upper arm juts out from his body at an odd angle, the rest of his arm hanging limply from it. he tries to move it, and finds he can fold his fingers into a loose fist, and hinge his elbow slightly. other than that, it seems stuck in place, and not very usable. he's honestly surprised he can move it at all, and even more surprised that it doesn't hurt.

he moves on, trying to find where his right arm is, but it seems to be pinned under him, and he cannot move it. he cannot see the rest of his body like this, he needs to turn himself over. hesitantly, he tries to push his knees under him, trying not to fixate on the way they feel wrong, and pries himself off the floor to set himself back down on his side.

everything goes wrong from there.

the first thing he sees is his right leg, grotesquely elongated beyond anything close to human proportions, trailing out from his hip in a zig-zag line. he tries to move it and is repulsed by how much input he receives from the action, what would be his 'calf' folding together like an accordion. he untenses the leg, sickened from the feeling of too many joints and muscles moving at once.

he closes his eyes. this isn't right. that isn't human. the thought brings back memories.

a crib. a television. a snapped neck. a taught rope. a child's wails.

a man who isn't a man, but who is his father.

it isn't human because he isn't human. he never was. he is an imitation of life, a machine and nothing more.

an alternate.

no. he has to be human. there has to be something about him that is still human. he can still breathe, that's human, that's real. he looks down at his chest, frantically, and sees a hollow cavern of twisted, distorted ribs. it shifts, the curved bones folding in on themselves as more push themselves out. undulating like a pile of snakes, surreal and disgusting. he is not human, and his body is wrong. the words hiss and drone inside his head, and settle into his bones. can he really even call himself a 'he' anymore? no, it decides, it cannot.

it trails its gaze, despondently, to its left leg, taking in the way it is broken halfway down its calf with a sense of detached revulsion. it looks like the leg of some sort of fucked up animal, but that's really all it is, isn't it? if it could even call itself something 'alive'. it also catches sight of its right arm, and it's no wonder it couldn't find it before. it is fused to the lower half of its body, almost as if the entire thing had melted from its torso and attached itself above his hip. aside from that, it is surprisingly normal, not broken or extended into something monstrous. just its normal hand, attached to its normal arm.

it can also move it like a normal arm. which means it can use it to feel its face, and find out why it can't open its mouth.

it hunches its back forward, hand shaking as it pulls it towards its face, closer and closer until... its fingers make contact with smooth skin, right where its mouth should be. it lays its palm flat against it, shell-shocked, and one of its fingers runs over a groove in its left cheek, the end of it pressing against something hard. it moves its fingers over it, and... are those teeth? it rakes its hand over it, and, yes, there are two rows of teeth running vertically down its cheek, jutting out from exposed gums. a quick check confirms another set on its right.

for some reason, this is the thing that breaks it. it screams, and realizes with even more horror that the sound does not come from its mouths, but from its chest, the vibrations reverberating against its ribs. it stops instantly, its voice dying out. it can't even scream without being reminded of what it's become. it heaves out a crackling sob, and curls up on the floor.

---

"….adam? are you there?"

#tmc septendecim au #adam murray #the mandela catalogue #tmc intruder #ask to tag. i put warnings but if i should tag it as well then let me know 👍#foster's writing tag #soooooo excited to have this out. SOOOO excited to talk abt this #oh yeah PLEASE send asks about this one i want to talk abt symbolism and themes and whatever #tw: gore #tw: body horror

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astrowaffles · 1 year

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raspberry ice-cream (in a hundred years?)

General Audiences | Fluff, Attempt at humour

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing, dude.”

“The wrong thing? I just found out my own best friend has been shit talking me behind my back-“

“I’m your best friend?!” Oikawa interrupted, eyes shining with delight.

“Sorry, where’ve you been the last ten years?”

“Fifteen.”

“My bad. Fifteen years, then?”

“Under your bed, making sure you don’t cheat on me with another best friend.”

“I- is that actually what you’ve been doing?”

“No,” Oikawa said, like a liar. “But I’ve never heard you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m your best friend.”

“So you’ve just had your ears turned off for nearly twenty years?”

“Hajime, our time as best friends has just increased five years in five seconds. You’re the physics genius, tell me, how does that work?”

“One, you’re the one that takes physics, not me. Two, I’m exaggerating for poetic effect. It’s called a hyperbole, which you would know if your ears worked. Three, answer the question.”

“Four, I didn’t even know you could count.” ------------

OR: it's absolutely boiling, iwaizumi is done with life, and oikawa is...oikawa

“You know, Iwa,” Oikawa mused, lying full-out on his bedroom floor, staring at the ceiling. His fan valiantly tried to keep him from overheating in the sticky humidity of summer, while the windows were shut tight to keep insects out. Next to him, Iwaizumi – who was face-down on the carpet – said nothing.

Oikawa cleared his throat and turned his head to put his mouth closer to his friend’s ear. “I said YOU KNOW, IWA,” he repeated. Iwaizumi coughed and turned to lie on his side.

“What?”

“It would do you a lot of good to listen to me, sometimes,” Oikawa informed him huffily.

“Did you have something to say or not?”

“I do, but I don’t think you want to hear it anymore!”

“In that case, don’t say it,” Iwaizumi shrugged. He rolled onto his back. “If it’s not a suggestion to get rid of this horrible heat, I don’t care anyway.” He pulled at his shirt, which was sticking to his body.

“You’re such a drama queen,” Oikawa huffed, debating hitting Iwaizumi’s shoulder, but deciding against it in light of the bead of sweat rolling across his own palm. “It’s not that hot.”

“Then why is your fan on?” Iwaizumi asked, pointing accusingly at the pathetic, wheezing machine on Oikawa’s desk.

“I can’t let it do nothing, Iwa, it might think it’s unemployed.” Oikawa stood up to give it a firm whack. “Might as well be, if this is all it’s capable of.”

“Buy a new one,” Iwaizumi suggested, throwing an arm over his eyes. “One that works.”

“This one used to work!” Oikawa covered the fan’s face defensively. “It’s just a bit old. Like you.”

“I still function!” Iwaizumi cried. “And that fan never did!”

“I’m beginning to think you’re losing your memory,” Oikawa sniffed. “Otherwise there’d be no way you’d insult little Benny like this."

"Benny?!” was Iwaizumi’s objection. “Last year it was Frank!”

“Yeah, so, he had an identity crisis,” Oikawa explained, in a tone that said either stick with me or get out, and I know you don’t have your own fan.

“Most people have identity crises earlier in their life than that fan,” Iwaizumi pondered. “You know, mid-life crisis or whatever.”

“This was a quarter life crisis!”

“There is no way it’s a quarter of the way through its life. If it makes it through this summer it’ll be a miracle.”

“Luckily, I am in fact God,” Oikawa declared. He reached under his desk to pull out a shoebox, which opened to reveal thousands of Oikawa-San Point buttons. “See? I’ll give it a blessing.” He wedged one into the mesh of the fan.

“It needs more than that.” Shaking his head, Iwaizumi took the box from Oikawa and emptied it over the fan. “That’s more like it.”

“But what do I give everyone else?” Oikawa mourned, staring at the mess of Oikawa-San Points on the desk. “Seijoh will be blessingless! What about Makki? Mattsun? Yahaba? Kunimi? Kindaichi? What will they do without my blessings?!”

“….Play volleyball?” Iwaizumi suggested. He tugged at Oikawa’s arm. “Come on, let’s get ice cream. I’m going insane in here.”

“We’ll be back for you, Fred!” Oikawa called as he was dragged out the room. He threw a final Oikawa-San Point in the vague direction of his desk.

“I thought it was Benny?”

“Not anymore.”

“Well, obviously. Why the change of heart?”

“He missed being Frank.”

“So he changed it to Fred?”

“Yeah, well, they’re similar names and he was embarrassed to admit being namesick.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “He’s very indecisive. Tell him to choose a name and stick with it like the rest of us.”

“Well, it’s not like you have. When we met you were Iwaizumi, and then Hajime, and then Haji, and then Iwa, and then-“

“That wasn’t my choice, was it? You kept changing what you called me!”

“And now I use all of them! It’s a win-win. Although I do wish you’d let me call you Haji in public.”

“I would throw myself off a cliff before I let you do that.”

“Oh, but would that really be a bad thing?”

“Yes?! The team would go feral if they got you unfiltered.”

“Unrestrained, you mean. You’re like chains that hold me back wherever I go,” Oikawa sighed, throwing his arms out dramatically. One hit Iwaizumi in the face, and the other smacked a wall. “OW!”

“Instant karma,” Iwaizumi snickered. “And what happened to ‘oh, Iwa, you’re so dependable and amazing-‘”

“I have never said that in my entire life.”

“Sure, sure. I do read the birthday cards you write me.”

“I never said I didn’t write it! ‘Sides, if I actually thought you were amazing, I’d form a fan club or something, not compare you to Godzilla’s underpants.”

“You did form a- Godzilla’s underpants?!”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing, dude.”

“The wrong thing? I just found out my own best friend has been shit talking me behind my back-“

“I’m your best friend?!” Oikawa interrupted, eyes shining with delight.

“Sorry, where’ve you been the last ten years?”

“Fifteen.”

“My bad. Fifteen years, then?”

“Under your bed, making sure you don’t cheat on me with another best friend.”

“I- is that actually what you’ve been doing?”

“No,” Oikawa said, like a liar. “But I’ve never heard you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m your best friend.”

“That is literally how I introduce you to people.”

“Is it?”

“So you’ve just had your ears turned off for nearly twenty years?”

“Hajime, our time as best friends has just increased five years in five seconds. You’re the physics genius, tell me, how does that work?”

“One, you’re the one that takes physics, not me. Two, I’m exaggerating for poetic effect. It’s called a hyperbole, which you would know if your ears worked. Three, answer the question.”

“Four, I didn’t even know you could count.”

Iwaizumi hit him, and then sighed in defeat. He sat down on the side of the curb and tried to understand his life choices, which isn’t really the best course of action for a teenage boy at midday on the hottest day of the year. He felt like his brain was melting along with his bones.

Oikawa silently sat next to him, arm snaking behind him but not touching him, so as not to contribute to the overheating. “You good there?”

“How did I become friends with you?” Iwaizumi complained. Oikawa grinned.

“I offered you some tofu and the rest is history.”

“I still think it was poisoned,” Iwaizumi maintained. He tipped his head back and then immediately brought it back to normal to avoid the sun.

“It wasn’t poisoned! You weren’t even ill!”

“Yeah, but it made me friends with you.”

“Oh, so it was blessed. I see. Maybe you’re right,” Oikawa mused. “I should ask okaa-san.”

“I don’t think so,” said Iwaizumi hurriedly. Images flashed before his eyes; mention their past to Oikawa’s mother, and out comes endless cute-but-embarrassing reminiscences. The time Oikawa kissed Iwaizumi’s cheek because that’s what his parents did, the time Iwaizumi proposed to stop them being put with girls during their class’s fake wedding ceremonies, the time Oikawa skinned his knee and Iwaizumi carried him home, the time Oikawa learnt division so he could split his stuff equally between him and Iwaizumi (only for Iwaizumi to suggest they both share all of it). It was horrifying, and impossible to believe Oikawa – or Iwaizumi - had ever been that sweet.

Iwaizumi’s memories were different; Oikawa commandeering the UFO toys, Oikawa demanding Iwaizumi share his yoghurt, Oikawa using Iwaizumi’s tough reputation to clear kids off his preferred swings. Oikawa had always been loud and bossy and definite, usually in a bad way. Iwaizumi didn’t mind; he’d liked the dinosaur toys better, hated yoghurt, and thought the kids who stole the swings were annoying. It still irritated him that it was all Oikawa’s idea, though.

“Stop sulking,” Oikawa told him, poking his side. “I want ice cream.”

“Get it then.” Iwaizumi gestured to the store across the road in front of them. “I’m not stopping you.”

“Yes you are! I can’t just leave you here in the middle of the road!”

“Why not?”

“What if you’re kidnapped?”

“Oikawa, I am the arm wrestling champion of Seijoh three years running. No-one will kidnap me.”

“Yes, yes, we’re all very proud of you – except maybe Makki – but you’re still a teenage boy.”

“Oikawa, if you’re just buying ice cream there shouldn’t be time for me to be kidnapped. Hurry up.”

“Whatever,” Oikawa sighed. “If you die then you’re dead.”

“….Yes?”

Oikawa gave him a meaningful look which Iwaizumi would have understood if his brain was working, and pranced off. He didn’t return for another ten minutes, when he ran out of the shop looking distressed.

“Iwa!” he called from across the street. “They didn’t have strawberry!!”

Iwaizumi snickered. “Aww, poor baby!” he called back. “Did you have to make do with raspberry?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa pouted. He reached Iwaizumi’s pavement and sat down next to him again. “Want some?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “I’m good. Just wanted to get away from Frank-Benny-Fred.”

“His name’s George.”

“What’s the reason this time?”

“It’s after Curious George.”

“The monkey?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing. It’s a good choice.”

“Thank you.”

“’Course, could just be because it reminds me of you.”

“Awww, Iwa, you’re so- the MONKEY?!”

Iwaizumi stood up. “Let’s go home.”

“Home as in my home?”

“Same thing.”

Oikawa stood up too, probably just so he was taller than Iwaizumi. “Not the same thing. Your home has your mom in it, my home has mine.”

“They both have me in them, though.”

“I wonder why that is. Do they not feed you at home?” Oikawa enquired, falling into step slightly behind Iwaizumi. “Or are you just fat?”

Iwaizumi reached back and slapped his shoulder. “Maybe I just want to terrorize you.”

“It’s working.”

“My life is accomplished.”

Oikawa huffed and slung an arm over Iwaizumi’s shoulders, ignoring the way their skin stuck together. “You can’t die yet, I still have to beat you at Uno.”

“Never gonna happen.”

“Totally gonna happen.”

“Never.”

“It will!”

“It won’t.”

“It will!”

“It won’t,”

“It better, or so help me-“

“What, are you gonna give yourself an Oikawa-San Point?” Iwaizumi teased.

“Don’t need to, I’m all-powerful anyway.”

“Alright then, O Great Oikawa-San. Teleport us home. Or to the Antarctic.”

Oikawa flicked ice cream at him. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t feel like it.”

“Maybe it’s because you can’t do it.”

“You know, Iwa, I think I can answer your question.”

“Which one?”

“Why you became friends with me.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“To annoy me.”

Iwaizumi laughed and grabbed Oikawa’s hand, still hanging over his shoulder. “You finally get it. Only took you-“

“-Thirty years,” Oikawa finished. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

“I was gonna say a hundred.”

"Yeah, well. When it's been a hundred years, you can say it took me a hundred. And we're definitely gonna last at least a hundred years."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

A03 | Exclusives | Tip Me | Commissions

#hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq ships #iwaoi #oiiwa #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #tooru oikawa #hq iwaizumi #hq oikawa

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negativepeanuthoarder · 7 months

Text

cryptid au snippet

cw for a hurt animal-monster thing

Sapnap whistles softly as he carefully uses a pair of pliers to snip the broken chicken wire on the fence. A roll of it sits next to him, ready to replace the old wire with some new mesh. Behind him in the pasture, the cows feast on the grass, the hot sun beating down on their backs.

In front of him, beyond the fence, the woods sit. They’re buzzing with activity, leaves rustling with squirrels, the air buzzing with insects. They seem nice in daylight, warm and safe and inviting. Not like anything dangerous could lurk in there.

“Sapnap!”

Sapnap stops whistling and drops the pliers, looking behind him and expecting to see Sam. But the man is nowhere to be found. It’s just him in the pasture.

“Sapnap!” The voice calls again, sounding almost miles away, and Sapnap nervously glances to the woods, trying to remember what Sam said about the rules. If it sounds like it’s close it’s far away. If it sounds like it’s far away it’s close.

If you hear something, no you didn’t.

The leaves rustle. Sapnap picks up the pliers and begins to back away from the woods. No he didn't, he didn't hear anything. He definitely didn’t hear his name being called. He definitely doesn’t see a bush rustling. He’s fine. Everything is fine.

“Sapnap?”

Sapnap keeps walking, picking up his gait and gripping the pliers harder. The bush rustles harder and-

A deer pokes it’s head out of the underbrush.

A deer missing most of it’s skin and antlers made of flesh and eyeballs.

Sapnap turns and runs. He hears the deer behind him screech and give chase, bounding after him. The cattle look up and startle as Sapnap rushes past them, confused. He heaves for breath as he runs, hearing hoofbeats and panting and wet snarling behind him.

The sun seems to blind him as he zeros in on the farmhouse, wishing he’d brought the pistol Sam gave him with him. But it was just a simple chore and the sun was so bright and those things don’t come back unless it’s nighttime and-

Sapnap is thrown forwards as something drops from the sky and hits the deer, causing it to explode into a mess of gore and jelly. He looks up from where he’s fallen to see-

That bug thing from last night by his window.

Perched on the writhing twisting mass of flesh that used to be a deer monster and staring at him with glittering red eyes. He swallows, staring as it sinks it’s claws into the carcass and takes off, back into the sky and off towards the woods.

#Cryptid au #fics by peanut

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warcats-cat · 2 years

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Saturdays

Read on Ao3 here!

A/N: Hi friends!! This one is special to me, based on one of my favorite Sanders Sides AU's to date! Its a very cute au belonging to @muppenthings called the Floof AU! Basically, Logan, Janus, Virgil, and Patton are small and fluffy creatures similar to a bug-hedgehog hybrid, living in a human Roman's prized rose garden. A gargoyle version of Virgil is also there, having been gifted by Remus and now spending his time protecting the garden from threats. I HIGHLY recommend you check it out! It is very very cute.

As always, please let me know if I missed any tags!

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“Patton, you have a ladybug on your ear.” Logan chirped. His own ear twitched, almost sympathetically, imagining the itchiness of the smaller insect. However, Patton seemed unbothered, smiling excitedly back at Logan.

“She’s my new friend!” Patton chirped back. Logan tried to roll his eyes, but couldn’t help his own fond smile. Patton wiggled and tapped his feet a few times, and then began to wander away to show the others.

Only Patton. Logan shook his head, still smiling, and began the slow but worthwhile climb up the corner rose bush. It had been seven days, which meant their human Roman had (most likely) set out a snack for them. Logan wasn’t sure what was so special about the seven-day cycle, but it was certainly not an offering he would refuse.

Virgil and Janus should be rousing from their sleep soon, and Patton would bring them along. Logan would never be so rude as to start without his hivemates, but it was exciting to be the first to see what was out. The path up the rosebush was familiar, easy to climb (if rather tall for them) and comfortable under his feet.

He stopped momentarily, finding a small colony of aphids, and taking the time to carefully pick them off the flowers and leaves. Roman was especially attentive with his prized roses, and these were the soft lilac ones that he already had so much trouble tending. There were barely any aphids; they must have found their way into the garden overnight.

Luckily, they wouldn’t spoil his treat.

Looking down, Logan saw that Patton had managed to wake Janus, who was climbing up behind Logan. Their long back fluff twitched and danced, expertly avoiding snagging on thorns or smaller branches. They chirped a simple greeting up to Logan, who chirred in return.

Virgil was less awake, leaning against Patton tiredly as he was nudged towards the bush. If he wasn’t careful, he would miss his own treat.

Logan smiled to himself and continued climbing, reaching the top with ease and moving carefully onto the familiar ledge.

Sure enough, the smaller house-opening (which Roman called a window) was opened just a crack, and Logan could see the inner mesh had been lifted as well. Roman had cut a slit in the mesh, so Logan and the others could enter and exit the den as they pleased.

Janus was a surprisingly frequent visitor; they enjoyed the large den’s coolness on especially hot summer days, and Roman had built a smaller version of his large den, and left them interesting things to explore and play with (although he had never returned the strange and wonderful glowing rock-thing that Logan had so enjoyed. And his efforts to bargain for it had gone unanswered.)

Roman himself was sitting at the window, looking out into the morning sunshine and sipping his flowery liquid (tea, Logan reminded himself. Roman called it tea.) The mesh opening had been lifted, and sure enough, Roman had set out a few small dishes of treats for their seven-day offering.

“Hello” Logan chirped, noticing Roman’s bright eyes on himself.

“Good morning, Muppets!” Roman said to the four generally, as Janus and finally Patton and Virgil joined Logan on the ledge. Patton cooed in lieu of a greeting, knowing Roman couldn’t understand them anyway. Virgil simply grunted, making his way quickly towards the dishes, looking for sweet water to make a mess in.

Janus walked past the offerings entirely, their intentions fully fixed on the little set of brushes that had been mounted on the window. Janus very rarely partook in the seven-day offerings, spending the time brushing out their long tufts of fur in a way that the Logan and the others simply couldn’t manage with their own tongues or paws. They did this almost every morning, and Roman was meticulous in keeping the brushes clean for them, which it was clear Janus appreciated in their own aloof way.

There was a splash, and Logan turned to see that, indeed, Virgil had once again plunged his entire face into his little dish of sweetwater. Logan and Patton would have to help him groom his face again, but Logan smiled despite himself. Oh well.

Patton had been left a soft loaf, just smaller than the size of his own head. He received one every fourth cycle, and Patton performed his own excited dance for Roman in thanks before tucking in. Roman has eaten a much larger one once while sitting with them for a picnic, and a few pieces had broken off and fallen for Logan and the others to investigate. Patton had snatched up whatever he could, allowing the others only the barest nibbles; it was perhaps the only time Logan had ever heard him growl.

Roman chuckled above them, sipping his tea again. “Someone is excited for snickerdoodle day.” He said softly, only really to himself. Logan heard the fondness in Roman’s voice, though, and began to purr to him, sharing the happiness. Roman was human, and couldn’t answer the sound, but he was family none-the-less.

Janus did turn for a moment to answer Logan’s purr, reinforcing their sentiment. The low rumbling sound ended as they nodded to each other, Janus turning back to their brushes and Logan finally going to investigate his offering.

The little dish was filled with a deep purple goo, little pieces of fruit mixed within. Jam.

Logan almost always received a dish of sweet goo, every time a different fruit. He didn't think he would ever tire of the sour-sweet flavors. Today was blueberry, the little fruits soft in Logan’s mouth. They didn’t crunch like crickets, but they almost popped, especially the little ones. There really wasn’t anything like them in the garden; even aphids were just a little too hard.

He took his time licking at the offering, savoring each bit. He was careful to keep as much of his face clean as possible without wasting a drop. Not that Logan was unwilling to share with the others, but truly, he wasn’t a fan of messes anyway. This was his treat, and he would enjoy it in his own way.

Roman proceeded to tell them about his upcoming day. He called offering day Saturday, and it was usually the day he spent either outside tending the garden, or inside his den making strange messes on sheets that he called paintings. Logan secretly hoped Roman would spend the time outside today, so their whole hive could bond.

Logan looked over to the others; Janus had finished their brushing, and was carefully nibbling on a small cut of something savory which Roman called chicken. Janus had never been one for sweets, but Roman had discovered very quickly what each of them liked, and provided in carefully measured abundance.

Another sign of a good hive-mate.

Today, Roman was bringing his colorful messes outside to ‘enjoy the sunlight’. He chattered above the four of them for a bit, sipping tea and watching them enjoy their offerings. Logan looked over to find that Patton was now sprawled stomach-up on the dish where the loaf had been, Janus was licking their delicate paws, and Virgil remained face-down in the bowl, apparently blowing bubbles. Logan licked at the last of his jam, and moved to nudge at Patton.

Patton purred in lieu of saying anything; his stomach was full and it was likely he would nap where he was for a while. Meanwhile, Roman finished his tea, and expertly set it inside and out of Virgil’s reach, before leaving the window for a moment. Looking back into the garden, Logan could see that Stone-Virgil was now awake as well; at least, as awake as that one could become.

“Saturday, already?” Stone-Virgil called in to Roman. Roman made a loud humming noise from his kitchen, fetching the most curious offering of all.

Logan had never seen Stone-Virgil eat, and as far as he and the others knew, Stone-Virgil simply didn’t. Logan didn’t know just how Stone-Virgil stayed alive, but as acting protector of the garden, it wasn’t really Logan’s place to question. Still, Roman came outside through the larger den-opening which he called a Back-Door, bringing the seven-day offering for Stone-Virgil.

This offering was a stick, which Roman set carefully on a strange-looking plate with a hole in its center. Roman produced a tiny fire in his fingers, burning the top of the stick for a few seconds before blowing it out again, producing a funny-smelling smoke. Stone-Virgil offered Roman a small smile in thanks, but otherwise left the stick of smoke alone. He would do this every Saturday; and Logan wished he could ask Stone-Virgil what the stick did, and why didn’t he eat it?

It didn’t even seem like one of Janus’ brushes! Or one of the other toys! They both just left it there, until it stopped smoking a few hours later, and Roman would take the dish and the leftovers of stick and ashes back inside his den, never to be seen again.

Logan nudged Patton again, who interrupted his own purring to chirp, roll over, and bat the top of Logan’s head lovingly with one of his paws.

“Will you just nap today?” Logan chirred.

“Maybe.” Patton squeaked sleepily. His eyes were shut, and the sunlight was at a perfect angle. The garden was quiet, and the pests had been cleared. It would be the perfect day for a nap.

Logan rubbed cheeks with Patton, wishing him a good nap as the other rolled back onto his back, and moved over to where Janus was watching Virgil with feigned disinterest. Their fur was carefully brushed clean, and they offered a polite tap of their heads together before deciding Logan would be enough to keep Virgil from making himself sick, and Janus began the careful crawl inside to hide away from the early summer heat.

Logan poked Virgil’s side, which made the other squeak indignantly and lift his head. All of the fur on the front of his face was totally soaked, and within an hour or so it would become sticky if he wasn’t cleaned. Logan couldn’t help a giggling trill at the sight of his hive-mate.

“Can I help you?” Virgil grumped, rubbing a paw over his face and licking some more sweetwater off.

“You’re going to be sticky.” Logan informed him, earning an eye roll.

“It’s my treat. I get to do what I want.” Virgil responded petulantly. Logan trilled again, standing up on his hind legs and placing his fore-paws on Virgil’s head, licking at a tuft of fur that he knew Virgil wouldn’t be able to reach with his own paws.

Virgil grunted, muttering about cleaning himself later, and gently but firmly pushed Logan off. Logan huffed fondly as Virgil once again shoved his face into his dish, and left the other to his own fun.

Roman was bringing his supplies out into the garden while Stone-Virgil was watching something outside the walls with deep interest. Logan whistled as Roman walked past a second time, getting his hive-mate’s attention long enough to jump onto the human’s shirt and climb to his shoulder. Roman was startled at first, but as Logan settled himself, the human laughed his own deep rumbling chuckle. They ambled back to the center of the garden, where Roman had set up a thin wooden structure on which he had set one of his stiff fabric things.

“What should I paint today?” Roman asked, tilting his head towards the shoulder Logan was standing on. Logan tapped his front feet a few times, before chirping,

“What is paint?”

Roman still couldn’t understand him, so an answer was not likely forthcoming, and instead, Roman hummed and smiled, saying “Alright, that sounds good.”

Logan shook his head, wondering if Roman thought they couldn’t understand him, and clicked a few times in the back of his throat as if to agree with Roman anyway. Logan settled himself on the smooth fabric of Roman’s shirt, using his middle two paws to gently anchor himself without causing damage to the shirt or causing himself discomfort, and watched as Roman began to mix colorful muds of some kind or another.

The day passed easily like that, with Roman occasionally chattering nonsense at Logan and slowly creating a picture on the stiff fabric in front of him. Stone-Virgil patrolled and tended to the others as he saw fit; at one point he even brought a rather unwilling looking Virgil and a contented Patton to the stone dish that he and Roman both called the bird bath and set them in the shallow water. Virgil grumbled but didn’t struggle as Patton helped to groom his face and fur, and then the pair busied themselves splashing about in the water.

Janus was also retrieved, but they preferred not to get wet if they could avoid it, and sat on a little ledge near the rest, where they could all whistle to each other and enjoy the company.

Stone-Virgil and Roman talked of human things; of Roman’s brother Remus, of work, of threats to the garden. Something called a competition was coming up where Roman would be taking a few of his roses for some human reason, and they would have to be given extra care in the meantime. Logan made a note of this to tell the others later in the evening.

The sun slid slowly and smoothly across the sky above, and finally, Roman’s painting was taking shape. It was of them, it seemed; Logan and Patton, and Janus and Virgil. All of them as they had been after their offerings had been eaten. Patton performing his tapping dance which he had done in the morning. Janus delicately licking their fore-paws. Logan leaning back on his hind-paws, licking at a tuft of Virgil’s hair, while Virgil’s tongue stuck out. It was cute, Logan decided. It was amazing that their human could re-create the memories so beautifully. Logan leaned his head slightly, bumping into the side of Roman’s neck in affection. The human wouldn’t know exactly what it meant, but Logan knew he would still somehow understand. Their big, strange, wonderful hive-mate knew they loved him. He was family now.

Logan found himself wondering if they could spend next Saturday in the same fashion.

#warcats writes #sanders sides #sanders sides au #Floof AU #familial DLAMP #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Janus Sanders #Roman Sanders #nonbinary Janus Sanders #tw bugs #tw bugs and insects #there are two virgils #Based on Muppenthings Floof AU #this is so fluffy #muppen floof au

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dzamie-oc · 2 years

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As A Velociraptor Should Do

Wrote this for an English project, can't believe I forgot to post it here!

Summary: A velociraptor makes a daring escape from a research facility! Freedom is all hers, if she wants it.

Rating: E Length: 1500 words CW: blood mention, animal death (raptor goes hunting)

The smell of grass and wildflowers lingered for longer than Sierra expected. In spite of her artificial surroundings, the raptor knew the scent well; her researcher/caretaker liked fresh air while he worked, so long as Sierra was secure in her enclosure. This time, however, the smell of the outside world persisted even after Avi left the surrounding room. Sierra put the pieces together: the scent meant an open window, an open window meant a passage to outside, to the forest she’d seen only through glass, and the forest meant hunting, and freedom, and very clever ambushes. And without Avi to catch her before she bolted, that left only one obstacle between her and that sweet, unrestricted freedom.

Sierra knew how the door to her enclosure worked, after seeing Avi open it so many times. The handle, chest-height for him, was still too high for her biting range, even if she stretched up as tall as she could go. For a brief moment, she nearly chirped a loud help call, to try to get the human to open it for her, but the thought of having to evade him on the way to the window quashed that idea. Instead, Siera crouched, took aim, and leapt at the door, landing with a crash of talons on metal. Her claws hooked into the holes in the mesh, and she grabbed the handle in her jaws and yanked down. With a click, the door slowly swung open. Success.

After some effort to disentangle her claws from the door, Sierra once again stood on the floor of her enclosure. She ruffled her feathers, took a step out, and froze. Surely she wasn’t going to escape without her beloved stuffed raptor! Quick as she could, she turned, grabbed Nevada in her jaws, and dragged him away. The steady sound of fabric sliding on tile accompanied the rhythmic click of dino claws, as Sierra searched for the open window, following her nose. Finally, a gentle breeze wove through her feathers, and she found herself and Nevada in front of a small cabinet. It felt familiar to her, and when the raptor drew close enough to see the dent in the metal, Sierra recognized it with a wince.

It had been a few months earlier, just after finishing a round of measurements. Sierra had spotted a curious, bright red bug zipping around in front of her. Naturally, such things must be caught. However, no matter how sharp her turns or how quick her sprint, the strange insect evaded her grasp. Avi was helping, in his own way: he did not run much, himself, but with some tool in his hand, he pointed out to her where the bug was with enviable speed and precision. With her natural hunting skills and Avi’s guidance, she remained hot on its trail until it sped under the cabinet, and Sierra did not, instead slamming into the metal hard enough to dent it. The noise must have scared it off, because it was another month before she ever saw another of its kind. And at least Avi was always there to help whenever one did show up.

Recalling the thrill of the hunt invigorated Sierra; she crouched once again, clamped down firmly on her toy, and leapt at the top of the small cabinet… but came up short and fell back to the floor. Undeterred, the raptor issued a low, warning trill at the furniture and tried again. And again. After the third failure, she let go of Nevada for one last attempt. This time, without carrying around a large stuffed toy, she cleared the jump with ease. And at last, the window was right in front of her. Sierra spared a glance back down at the floor-bound doll, but soon turned away. Freedom, it seemed, held a hefty price. She felt the wind ruffle her feathers - real wind, not just the building’s ventilation - and hopped outside, flapping her arms to slow her descent.

Across the field stood a forest of deep green. Sierra’s mind filled with outrunning and outwitting foes, as well as cornering or baiting them with another raptor. Surely, she resolved, that was where she would begin that liberated life, far from tests and researchers. She walked slowly, revelling in the feel of grass under her feet. Suddenly, movement! A pair of mice picked their way through the field, apparently unaware of how easily Sierra could see them.

A rush of energy coursed through the dinosaur’s body as she stalked her newfound prey. Slowly, quietly, and with utmost focus, she crept nearer and nearer. The wrong blade of grass rustled, and the mice shot off, with Sierra in hot pursuit. With her head tucked down, her body cut through the air as her legs propelled her around the field. A well-timed lunge split up the mice, sending one back closer to the building; Sierra stayed steady on the other, but inwardly congratulated herself on the trick. If she had been hunting with a partner, that other mouse would have just become easy pickings!

At last, the mouse misstepped, or maybe simply grew tired. It hardly mattered to Sierra, who slammed a clawed foot down onto its little body. The raptor picked it up in her jaws and quickly gulped it down. She felt giddy. Her first hunt! And she could only get better. The forest was closer now, and drew closer still with each step. Soon, she would vanish from the view of that building, and truly begin her life as a free, wild dinosaur!

Just before the first trees, the ground dropped away at a sharp ledge. Sierra was not foolish enough to fall, but instead hesitated at the drop. She looked back at the building she had come from. Just one more jump, and she may never see it again. No more tests, no more wire mesh enclosure, no more stale air. The raptor crouched and readied her arms to manage her descent, but more thoughts came. No more sleeping next to Nevada. No more hunting those red bugs with Avi. The little dinosaur stood back up. No more Nevada. No more Avi. She took a step back, then shook her head, as though she could physically shake the thoughts out of it. Surely, she was not in for solitude, just something different. In fact…

Sierra took a deep breath,screeched a call into the woods, and waited for a response.

Nothing.

Just idle birdsong and the rustling of leaves and branches in the wind.

She drew in another breath, and chirped as loud as she could, calling any raptors for help. And again, in case they hadn’t heard the first time.

No response.

Sierra shivered, and her feathers stood on end. She hadn’t thought of this, when she dreamed of hunting, wild and free, that she might do it all alone. There was always a second or third raptor in her thoughts, to share food with, to protect and be protected by, to play with. The more she thought of it, the more she realized she disliked the idea of it. She knew what she would do, then. Nevada wasn’t technically alive, and Avi wasn’t a dinosaur, but they were both infinitely better than nothing. Sierra turned around; real raptors or no, she was going to live with her pack.

…right after she chased down that rabbit she just saw move.

One quick meal later, Sierra found herself staring up at the windowsill she had first leapt from. To her dismay, it was too high to jump onto, as she discovered with several failed attempts. Determined to break back into the place she had just escaped from, she looked along the wall, and soon found a lower windowsill. Even better, once she had leapt up and peered through the glass, she saw Avi sitting at some kind of machine.

Sierra chirped for help, then tapped her muzzle against the window. Avi looked her way, then turned back. An instant later, he whipped his head around again and stood up fast enough to knock his chair backwards. Avi ran over to the window, unlocked it, and pushed it open.

“Sierra, how did you get out?” he asked. Sierra ducked inside, hopped onto the floor, and trotted back to the research and testing area. Avi followed, trying to look her over. “Is that blood? Not yours, I hope.”

Paying little heed to the noises Avi made, the raptor quickly found Nevada where she had left him, grabbed him in her mouth again, and dragged him to Avi. He finally noticed the open window, closed it, scooped up Sierra and her toy, then carried her to a small basin with a water spout.

“I’m gonna have to get an actual lock now, huh,” Avi muttered as he watched Sierra splash herself clean.

Sierra responded to his sounds with a happy trill. It was settled, then: the next time she escaped, she’d have to take Avi with her.

#dinosaurs #velociraptor #raptor #feathered dinosaurs #writing #stories #writers on tumblr #text #cute

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everlarkedalways · 10 months

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When we ask for Beetee, we’re directed through the maze until we reach an enormous plate-glass window. Inside is the first beautiful thing I’ve seen in the District 13 compound: a replication of a meadow, filled with real trees and flowering plants, and alive with hummingbirds. Beetee sits motionless in a wheelchair at the center of the meadow, watching a spring-green bird hover in midair as it sips nectar from a large orange blossom.

His eyes follow the bird as it darts away, and he catches sight of us. He gives a friendly wave for us to join him inside. The air’s cool and breathable, not humid and muggy as I’d expected. From all sides comes the whir of tiny wings, which I used to confuse with the sound of insects in our woods at home.

I have to wonder what sort of fluke allowed such a pleasing place to be built here. Beetee still has the pallor of someone in convalescence, but behind those ill-fitting glasses, his eyes are alight with excitement. “Aren’t they magnificent? Thirteen has been studying their aerodynamics here for years. Forward and backward flight, and speeds up to sixty miles per hour. If only I could build you wings like these, Katniss!”

“Doubt I could manage them, Beetee,” I laugh.

“Here one second, gone the next. Can you bring a hummingbird down with an arrow?” he asks.

“I’ve never tried. Not much meat on them,” I answer.

“No. And you’re not one to kill for sport,” he says.

“I bet they’d be hard to shoot, though.” “You could snare them maybe,” Gale says. His face takes on that distant look it wears when he’s working something out. “Take a net with a very fine mesh. Enclose an area and leave a mouth of a couple square feet. Bait the inside with nectar flowers. While they’re feeding, snap the mouth shut. They’d fly away from the noise but only encounter the far side of the net.”

“Would that work?” asks Beetee.

“I don’t know. Just an idea,” says Gale. “They might outsmart it.”

“They might. But you’re playing on their natural instincts to flee danger. Thinking like your prey . . . that’s where you find their vulnerabilities,” says Beetee. I remember something I don’t like to think about. In preparation for the Quell, I saw a tape where Beetee, who was still a boy, connected two wires that electrocuted a pack of kids who were hunting him. The convulsing bodies, the grotesque expressions. Beetee, in the moments that led up to his victory in those long-ago Hunger Games, watched the others die. Not his fault. Only self-defense. We were all acting only in self-defense. . . .

-- Mockingjay, Ch 5

#interesting thoughts #explorethg #the mockingjay

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slidingscreensmelbourne · 5 months

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Insect Screens Melbourne: Reduces Negative Impact On Environment

Sustainability is a vital consideration in nearly all aspects of life. Precisely, homeowner do consider sustainable impact when it comes to home improvements. When you talk about the simple addition, no doubt Insect Screens Melbourne is the best to add security to doors and windows. So in this blog lets talk about how insect screens help keep homes eco friendly.

Consumption of energy gets minimised and in control

Insect screens Melbourne act as a shield when it comes to protecting homes from insects. At the same time, it allows fresh air to circulate into your home. This natural way of air circulation minimises the requirement for air conditioning during warmer months. As a result, you can keep the energy bills lowered by relying less on artificial cooling.

Using less amount of pesticide for the pests

The Insect screens Melbourne act as a prevention against the pests. Thus eliminating the requirement for harmful pesticides. You should know that Chemical pesticides can be fatal to the Environment. Therefore, it harms insects and also contaminates water and soil sources. But with insect screens, you can save the local ambience and keep the Environment healthy.

Keeping air pollution levels ultimately lowered

Insect Screens Melbourne keeps the air pollution effect under check. Fossil fuels are used to power the air conditioning units, releasing lots of pollutants into the air. But by relying less on these types of sources, you can help to keep the air cleaner. But it also helps keep the Environment's overall health green and pollution-free.

Landfills get less number of wastes

In comparison to the chemically prepared pest control or flypaper, the durability of the insect screen Melbourne is more. That means fewer screens are disposed of, thus resulting in less waste in landfills.

Final talk

Thus, these are the best ways by which door screen Melbourne can keep the Environment clean. So install the sliding screen Melbourne for the best.

#door screen Melbourne #sliding screen Melbourne #insect screen Melbourne #Insect Mesh Melbourne #window insect screen Melbourne

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harkthorn · 8 months

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Parent crow on the right just chilling while the juvenile on the left continues working their long term project of destroying the insect mesh on that window

#birb #bird #birds #wildlife #wild birds #crow #crows #hooded crow #hooded crows #corvid #corvids #corvidae #corvid cornix

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1st-choicepestcontrol · 1 year

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How to Control Household Pests in Singapore?

Do you enjoy having bugs in your house?

Naturally, nobody does that! Even those who find these creatures intriguing do not want vermin running loose in their home, causing unsanitary conditions. In actuality, the invasion of practically all pests—from the buzzing fly and itchy mosquito bite to the painful bee sting—is not only annoyance-inducing but also dangerous. Rats, cockroaches, and mosquitoes can spread sickness, but termites can harm your house. Complete pest control is the only solution for this issue.

How can they be repelled?

Keeping the bugs out is the greatest way to get rid of a pest infestation. Water, food, and shelter are the three essential components that every living thing requires to survive. You may make it difficult for these pests to feel comfy by eliminating their food source and hiding places. This will lessen the possibility of pests moving into your house. In order to keep bugs out, you should also seal any potential entry points, such as cracks and holes in the exterior of your home.

Common Household Pest Control in Singapore:

Garbage Disposal Procedures:

Did you realize? Pests enjoy hanging around in and near the trash. In actuality, they can reproduce there and get their food directly from the waste dump. To reduce the risk of these pests, you must be especially careful when disposing of rubbish. Instead of having garbage cans throughout your home, have one in your kitchen for putting out food waste.

Using trash cans with self-closing lids is one of the finest solutions because it keeps the debris out of insects' grasp. To prevent pests from feasting, make sure your compost bin is lined with fabric and has tight-fitting covers. As a result, recycle containers should be frequently cleaned and sanitised before being placed back where they belong.

Install mosquito screens:

For natural ventilation, most homeowners like to keep their doors and windows open. Unfortunately, mosquitoes and other flying insects can easily enter your home through open windows. In this situation, mosquito screens keep pests and trespassers out of your house. Fresh air and ventilation can enter without being obstructed by the mesh. However, make sure the screen is impenetrable—holes allow bugs to easily crawl in.

Fill up the Holes and Cracks:

Every home undoubtedly contains gaps, holes, and cracks that are simple to overlook when assessing our home. Rats and other insects can enter through these openings and explore your cozy abode. As a result, you should frequently inspect the outside of your home or hire an expert.

Clean Stagnant Water:

In the stagnant water, mosquitoes deposit their eggs and grow. Any stagnant water at your house needs to be covered or removed. Always keep an eye out for any water that has become stagnant in the buckets, flower pots, and other containers.

Conclusion

For affordable pest control services in Singapore, you can also get in touch with a reputable business like 1st Choice pest control.

#pest control singapore #pest control prices #advanced pest control #affordable pest control #universal pest control

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greengroth · 1 year

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Defense against EMF

You should prevent electronic devices, like cell phones if a person are sensitive in order to EMF. There are many strategies to shield yourself against EMFs. These include shielding fabrics, metal nylon uppers, and crystals. Stay away from devices that produce ionizing radiation. Shielding fabrics Shielding textiles can be used to protect oneself from electromagnetic radiation. These fabrics can be used anywhere in the house. Some fabrics are thick in addition to breathable while others are mesh-like, and can be used intended for bed sheets. They could be used as a new canopy to block radiation from cell phones and laptops. Protective shielding from electromagnetic radiation may be possible for polyamide woven fabrics with silver precious metal coating. This material has a twenty dB protective factor. The silver-coated thread provides it with a smooth feel. These textiles may be machine rinsed and are safe for human pores and skin. This fabric can also be very odor-resistant and even conductive. Shielding textiles are expensive plus can be more pricey than others. They might cost hundreds involving dollars. There will be many affordable alternatives. Radiation shielding fabrics are effective throughout protecting you towards harmful EMFs in the event that used properly. Steel mesh Metal fine mesh is a great solution to protect your own home from electromagnetic frequencies. This fabric could reflect both pulsed and aanalogradio eq. It is furthermore resistant to llow-frequencyAC electrical fields. It may protect your home from RF radiation and even also serve because an insect monitor. There are several types involving metal mesh. Copper mineral is the nearly all popular type. Another type of metallic mesh is man?uvres. It has superb shielding properties. This is used in HVAC systems, microwaves, plus other applications. It is usually used in DO-IT-YOURSELF projects. Another material that can be used to defend eagainst lectromagnetic the radiation is copper wire mesh. Aluminum nylon uppers can be another option. Aluminum webbing is an excellent option as it blocks RF effectively plus allows windows in order to open without any kind of harmful effects. check it out are available at House Depot in addition to on-line. These screens cost $60 each and do not incorporate shipping or labor. These screens can also be personalized, which can enhance the price.

Deposits There are numerous kinds of crystals. Each crystal has its benefits and properties. Smokey Quartz absorbs and changes negative energy straight into positive. It can easily therefore be utilized to protect oneself from electromagnetic the radiation. Smokey quartz can be used to ground yourself with nature. Before making use of Smokey Quartz to guard yourself from EMFs, make sure an individual consult an experienced specialist. Black Tourmaline is definitely another type of crystal that might absorb EMFs. Dark Tourmaline could also be used to cleanse the. This stone may also be used as jewelry, which often can prevent EMF symptoms. You might find EMF protection products both in on the web and offline stores. Hematite, another rock that protects your current body from the radiation and EMF smoke, is also offered. This dark drinking crystal has blood-purifying qualities and was used in the battle suits of Roman troops. It helps eliminate toxins from the body. Hematite is rich in iron so it's great if you spend some sort of lot of your energy inside a highly scientific areas Avoid products that emit ionizing radiation The suggestions are actually established by simply the EPA, seeing that well as various federal and state regulatory agencies in order to limit overall EMF exposure. The official report is focused on radiation from clever meters that could cause cancer. Yet , tsome other technologies and products emitradiation from different levels. Regarding example, the BRITISH has regulations regarding radiation from electric powered power lines. The particular Federal Communications Commission rate (FDA) and FDA in the Unified States regulate particular devices make limits on EMFs in work. Both companies have published suggestions based on ppeer-reviewedscientific literature. EMF is usually created when sunlight's energy is converted to light surf. Although it is harmless at reduced levels, this power can be dangerous at higher level. EMF can get generated by indoor lighting or electric powered power lines. These kinds of devices were popularized in the twentieth century, increasing EMF exposure. EMFs can easily cause brain harm and pathology similar to Alzheimer's. Research has also suggested of which RF-EMFs could affect the body's tissues. Researchers found that RF-EMFs had an important influence on body tissue heating and lack of feeling activity in one study. This finding is still staying confirmed by a lot more studies.

#what protects from emf

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