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corvidaemnit · 7 months

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Hey so can i have some interesting bird facts? I'm writing a story with a character who loves birds and i would like to hear bird facts that i can make the character tell others

YOU ARE MY NEW FAVORITE PERSON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING.

here are some of my favorites off the top of my head!!

- crows can remember faces and hold grudges! not only that, but they can also spread gossip amongst other crows which can be passed down generationally. if you wrong a crow, there’s a chance even its descendants will despise you

- hoatzins are born with small hooked claws on their wings to grab onto branches when they’re chicks! chicks will hold onto branches and, when faced with danger, they can and will drop themselves into water and SWIM to safety!! cool, right? however, as hoatzins mature they shed their claws and lose their ability to swim- as they have no need for those things anymore

- woodpeckers have long tongues that are supported by the ‘hyoid bone’, two thin strips that run through their tongue and wrap all the way around their skull. basically, woodpeckers have long ass tongues that touch their own skull. they also have been prone to using their tongues as self defense; their tongues are long and sticky so they stick it out at other birds to freak them out lmao

- bearded vultures have the strongest stomach acid of any animal in the world. around 90% of their diet consists of pure bone that they swallow and digest whole. on top of that, despite being born snow-white in color, bearded vultures in the wild are often seen with shades of red and orange painted onto their feathers. for purposes ornithologists have yet to understand, these vultures cover themselves in red dirt and other substances to make their feathers a more desirable color. the theory is that they use this to prevent feather degradation, but I like to think they just enjoy being fancy..

- frigatebirds are a huge subject of interest for scientists because nobody knows exactly how they manage to sleep while flying so much. these birds fly for extended periods of time over large bodies of water, and despite never coming in for a landing- they usually end up being fine. the hypothesis is that they actually take 10 second or so long power-naps while mid-flight, only resting part of their brain so that they can still operate their eyes and wings. neat, right?

- oilbirds, who get their name from the fact that historically people have been known to cook them as chicks for their oil, can echolocate like bats!! this fruit-eating little guy is also the only bird in its family, steatornis, which.. literally just translates to ‘fat bird.’ this is because, as chicks, oilbirds are born and raised to be significantly fatter than their parents. oh also, sometimes they scream so loudly and tragically that they’ve earned the nickname ‘guácharo’, roughly meaning “one who laments.”

- the closest living relative to the dodo is the nicobar pigeon! In fact, dodos are even considered a subset (raphinae) within the pigeon/dove family- columbidae. so… in short, dodos were basically big flightless pigeons. the more you know!

- kiwi eggs take up around 15% of their entire body weight, and are actually considered to be the largest eggs in relation to body weight of any other bird…. despite the fact that kiwis are super small. kiwis are also very reproductive, so females tend to lay a lot of eggs in their lifetime.. like.. close to 100. long story short: ouch.

- birds have knees and ankles and they bend pretty much just like ours!

roping back to corvids.. sorry they’re my favorite hehe

- jackdaws and rooks have been known to not only mate for life, but also choose their partners before they even reach sexual maturity. when eventually reaching maturity, as well, they stay by their partner’s side even if faced with continuous reproductive failure. they’ve also been observed keeping familial bonds and forming friendships!! very social and sweet members of the corvidae family

- the common raven has around 79 different vocalizations and scientists don’t even really understand half of them.

- crows have ACCENTS!!! ok so.. not in the way you’re probably thinking, but it’s the closest a bird can Get to an accent!! and it’s pretty damn cool!! depending on where they live, crows will have vocalizations catered specifically to their area’s murder. the vocalizations remain the same, but have a sliiiightly different tone to them. accents!!!!

- crows understand the concept of zero. this may not seem super revolutionary, but considering the fact it took our overall society to figure it out.. that’s pretty damn cool. (obviously societies preceding us like the mayans had an understanding of zero far before the rest of us did, but it’s still pretty neat!!)

SO YEAH!! THERE ARE YOUR BIRD FACTS!!!!! I never get to talk about this so sorry there’s so much— I got excited haha

I have a lot more but I condensed them to this little list of the ones I find the most interesting! hope this helps!!!!

#birds #bird #bird facts #ornithology #daemnthoughts #rambles

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gowns · 1 year

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ok last post for the day but did you know that literally unpacking your repression will cure you?

i've been unpacking the word and the concept of "repression" for the past 11 months and it has taken me on a journey that has just. literally repaired holes in my brain

and i didn't even know i was repressed. i thought i was "normal" and knew about all the edges and sides of myself

but it turns out that there was more to discover. and i have resolved to never be so set in stone again, so sure of what i know and don't know, how i identify, how i operate, how i navigate

your body and life and mind are all very malleable, expandable; you can be so much stronger, so much more confident, than you are now. even if you think you're already strong and confident

you don't know what you don't know...

the biggest reoccuring issue that i see on the internet is people posting with such authority, being so sure that they're right, even when they're speaking from a very narrow point of view, and have had a sheltered, judgmental upbringing. so they're just projecting their very limited experience on everything else. i know because i used to be guilty of that too.

but now i'm so... like, i am so fulfilled, so happy, and in a constant state of open curiosity, closer to zen than i have ever been before.

and i had to get there through being dragged through gravel at the bottom of a pit; i had nightmares about demons coming through screens, false reality, eyes following me everywhere. this is a really personal note here. you might not resonate with this. but i think that "madness" or nightmares can sometimes be a signpost of something else that's bothering you. i know that i was flagging to myself that the internet and television and etc, while it is very entertaining, it's also literally false reality, like, you could waste your whole life caring about tweets and hot takes and shit. i could just work on my little computer then watch tv and sleep and that would be my whole life. but it was all a coping mechanism for an unfulfilled life.

so then -- what is it that would make for a fulfilled life? even if it feels scary, out of reach, impossible; even if it feels shameful (not from a real sense, i.e. harming someone else, but from an imaginary sense, like "i don't know why, but when i think about this thing that doesn't hurt anyone, i feel sick, like i shouldn't do it, but i want to do it, i feel like i have to do it"--)--

i think there is soooo much repression out there, because we're just steeped in it. and there's the repression that you know about, then a whole shadowy area of your mind that's the repression you're not even conscious of. and maybe sometimes things lash out from those shadows; you project things onto other people, carry grudges, can't feel satisfied with anything, etc

i've dealt with a lot of depression and anxiety and intrusive thoughts and so on, and a lot of it just.......... stopped. over the past year. from unpacking the repression

(i also feel personally that a lot of people who subscribe to conservative ideologies are repressed on some level. and in my mental mind map, there's "repression" < - > "trauma" < - > "isolation" with lines pencilled in heavily between each of them)

and it's like... you open yourself up to yourself, you open up to other people more, you become more engaged in your community, build better friendships, etc.

because it's like repression is poison in the soil... and the more we get rid of that shit the more we can grow, open up, more things grow..

it's just one word, it can mean different things to different people, but i think we could all attack it with the same woodpecker-like ferocity that i am attacking my own repression. you know? then it would be like. oh shit. i had a tool of imperialism and colonialism and white supremacy and heteropatriarchy and protestant / catholic control just festering inside of me for years. damn. good thing i got it out!

#edit: this was not the last post of the day #where art thou adderall

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strawberryeis · 17 days

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My unfortunate attraction to the most garbage women on the planet coupled with my permanent inability to operate a motor vehicle is, in fact, cosmic punishment for whatever crimes I committed in my previous life as some sort of noisy woodpecker or shitty stray cat

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snappydragonsclaw · 4 months

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One the skylanders imaginators cutscenes redone

Deep inside of kaos's lair kaos was walking back and forth seemingly aggravated at his failures. Another one of his doomlanders were defeated once again. He could not stand it. Those pesky skylanders kept winning no matter what he had thrown at them. "Brain!? What am I doing wrong!? Those fools just keep defeating my doomlanders!" kaos asked Brain. Brain looked at him and sighed facepalming. "kaos have you ever thought of taking them out from the inside?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm. "eh!? What do you mean?" kaos ask intrigued. "well those skylanders of yours are rather close. They seem to operate like a family." Brain added."well I've seen them group hug and celebrate holidays together. " kaos noted. "how about you...make it so they turn on that pesky purple dragon. He seems to be the one they all look up to. After all that old portal master Eon is spirit so he can't do anything to protect them." brain says."but it's not that simple! These stupid's are strong-willed! Every time in the past they seem to break out of mind control!" kaos responses. "kaos im basically a god. I'm one of the very beings who created Skylands. I'm sure these skylanders can't hold their own against the likes of my abilities. " Brain says pridefully. "well that is a point. They did never face anyone like you other than the darkness."kaos says. "so why don't we try this? How about for once you have them bowing down?" brain asks. Kaos thinks for a while and glances at glumshanks who shrugs clearly uneasy about the crisis as always. " alright. Let's try this." he says in a slightly worried tone. He knows if this goes wrong the skylanders will get suspicious of him further.brain floats over to the thinking cap on kaos's head and together they say"prestobraino". Meanwhile at the academy. The skylanders were plotting.

All the starterpack skylanders were gathered at the meeting table where they spoke to each other. Spyro sits down, trigger happy happily giggles away as usual, gill grunt is next to him nudging him to quiet down, cynder is sighing clearly annoyed by the gremlin's laughing, tree rec per his woodpecker, jet vac is nervously sweating, stealth elf is sharpening her blades, wash buckler and blast zone playfully swap just for fun, food fight is surprisingly just chilling, snap shot is having a conversation with golden queen, spitfire is making sure he isn't burning anyone and king pen is just entering the room." alright everyone. I think we have a problem. Kaos has mysteriously gotten stronger over the past few days and well that is obviously not good at all. He is creating monsters! I remember a time when the only created beings walking around here were Tree Rex and Food Fight....not to be rude to you two. Anyways these things that kaos are creating are unnatural! They don't have souls like we do!" spyro alerts. "I think kaos is messing with something no mere mortal should be messing with and I'm speaking as a technically immortal being!" stealth elf whispered."I miss the days were it was just us vs him! Now he has all this otherworldly help! I rather deal with the blooming mask of power than this mess!" Food Fight says crossing his arms. "agreed. Like sure it sucked that we had our powers taken away but at least we knew what we were dealing with!" Gill grunt says."kaos I hypothesis is messing with powers only for the ancients." king pen adds drawing everyone's attention. "these powers and abilities. They don't belong to him. Have you noticed his magic arua changed from purple to pink lately?" spyro looks at cynder worried. They haven't even thought about the idea that kaos is getting these powers from someone. "spyro you don't think that kaos had summoned the rouge ancient do you?" cynder asks to hope that spyro would say no.

"uh...well he did grab the thinking cap and that book so maybe?"spyro nervously chuckles."oh yeah we're done for." wash buckler says out loud."...that was supposed to not come out." outside the academy mysteriously goes silent. As if life itself just stopped. "uh...why did it go quiet outside all the sudden?" stealth elf asks the group. Her ears lower slightly. She had seen creepy stuff before but this was a whole new level of creepy. "oi! and i'm sure the academy is NEVER this quiet! Even at three am!" snap shot says getting up protectively drawing his bow and arrow. "alright this is officially creepy." spitfire says looking out the window and seeing no one. "this better not be one of kaos's tricks!" tree Rex say getting up. The skylanders all walk outside."...where is everyone?" blast zone asks. "yeah they were outside doing their own thing a minute ago?!" golden queen adds."Ahahhah! Creepy! Hahaha!" trigger happy laughs but he is laughing to cover up his fear. The skylanders begin to look around together however food fight begins acting strangely. The artichoke holds his head as if he has a headache. "ugh...guys I don't feel so good-" he stops suddenly. He heard whispering in his ears that were well his leaves.the voice was getting louder and louder. "what...!? What are these voices....!? They are so loud!?" he cries out In pain.

The others look at him In Concern. "food fight? Mate what's happening to ya?" snap shot asks walking over to him. Suddenly out of nowhere food fight does a blood-curdling scream. "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!!" he screams. The skylanders jump at the sudden scream.food fight fell to his knees covering his leaves in pain. His eyes were wide and small tears rolled down his cheeks." what are we all looking at him for!? Let's help him!" snap shot roars. However, before they can do anything food fight suddenly stops.food fight just simply doesn't make a sound. "food fight? You okay?" spyro asks. Food fight doesn't respond. He slowly gets back onto his feet.His head hung low as if puppeted.Trigger Happy was about to hop over to food fight Gill Grunt held him back."trigg stay back something is not right." he said. "remember how I said how nobody is outside was creepy? Yeah I take that back This takes the cake!" spitfire says floating behind tree rex hiding behind the giant. Spyro tilts his head. The purple dragon had seen many things in his lifetime but this...this was something much different from anything he had ever seen." hello? Skylands food fight?" spyro waved his claw in front of food fight with no reaction."spyro...what's going on with him?" cynder asks."I have no idea-"before spyro could finish his sentence food fight suddenly looks up. However his gaze. There was something off about it. His eyes were a hot pink hue and glowed. It was as if no one was home. "spyro...his eyes!" jet vac alerts. Spyro jumps back in surprise. Suddenly what was happening to food fight begins to happen to snap shot, stealth elf, Wash Buckler, spitfire, and Golden Queen. Spyro panics he shakes food fight but he gets pushed away.then everyone started to experience it except for spyro. Soon they all stop their scream and all glare at spyro. Spyro backs away. Suddenly a whisper is heard."destroy spyro." it says. suddenly they all attack spyro. Spyro flies away dodging various attacks. "AAAH!! What is going on! I thought we were friends! Family even!" he screamed in fear.

spyro got a response but not one that he expected."spyro prepare to face your DOOM!!!" they all said in incision as if in a hive mind. Wait a minute doom? Spyro heard that all too much not to know who was behind this."kaos!? What did you do to them!?" spyro yells demanding answers. Suddenly a voice comes out of food fight alone it sounds like a mix of his own voice and kaos's. "oh it's not just your friends fool! It's all of the Skylands! Ahahahha!"spyro suddenly freezes.all of Skylands? That"a how many people kaos is controlling. Suddenly the dread yacht fries at him. Spyro barely dodges. He sees Flynn, cali, mags,buzz, and hugo all under the control of kaos, and just when he thought that is everyone Tessa flies on Whiskers and tries to attack spyro. Spyri flies away trying to get them off his tail but he soon notices helicopter and jet noises and more flapping. "oh come on!"spyro comments annoyed. He hesitantly turns around to see the stealth stinger, jet stream, and cynder flying behind him. (also this is a playable cutscene by the way.)spyro pushes himself harder. However, he looks down and well it seemed like all the skylanders that weren't there a second ago are now."...AAAH!!! Oh for the love of!" spyro yells annoyed.spyro then sees a window open and flies inside and closes it and barricades the door.spyro didn't know what he was going to do but he was about to figure out what to do soon! Outside the room, he could the skylanders marching on their way to the very room he was in. "think spyro think!...wait I'm not affected! But how!? Is it because I'm a purple dragon?"spyro glances and notices an old map. He walks over and grabs it."dragon's peak of course! That was always the one place that was safe from most threats!"spyro then hears banging on the door. He looks down and sees a vent. He opens it and goes inside before they break down the door. Spyro turns around to see Gill and trigg. "I'm sorry guys..." he faintly whispers as he leaves.

Alright, that was my idea of a cutscene remake so let me go over some things. First the reason I Included all the starterpack skylanders is because it just makes a bit more sense. I always thought it was strange how some of them were never an NPC and I also made Spyro's personality a bit more accurate to his personality in the books and trailers so yeah no more cocky spyro and I changed the behavior of the mind-controlled skylanders as well. I was going for a more creepy hive-mind vibe speaking of that you may be asking what was with food fight and the voices in my head thing? So that was based off of the whole devil and angel dynamic a bit from the older cartoons and also I thought it would be cool and creepy if the brain could whisper to them to control them I mean the feeling of being whispered to do something is creepy a bit In itself especially if it to do something bad because I don't know about you but imaginators definitely feels like a Halloween game. or at least it was trying to be anyways. next the mask of power reference. Not much to say there. I just love the books. I wish those became games. Alright last but not least why did I switch the place spyro goes from Dragon Temple to dragon's Peak? well, hear me out. Dragon's temple is just another part of Dragon's Peak. The reason I sent spyro off there is because that place is the universe meeting point so yup when spyro mysteriously arrived in Skylands that's where he was. So it would make sense for that place to have some sort of magical protection.

#skylanders

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galahadiant · 6 months

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The Rainy Hyades and Desert Hills

My 2023 @inklings-challenge entry for Team Chesterton!

Frankly I kind of hate this piece; it was planned to be part 1 of 3 but it is not working out at all. I'm glad I participated this year, though, even if intrusive fantasy is far from my preferred genre. Father Rivas is a recurring character of mine; people who've read any of my other horror writing set in modern-ish times might recognize the name.

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The church is on the edge of town, with only a small parking lot and an old wire fence separating it from the sagebrush flats and the grit-red hills beyond. March came in warm this year, and rainier than usual, the storms carving divots of silver water into the gritty earth. Little pockets of scarlet and orange flowers grow in the shadows of the desert hills, half-hidden by the gray spines of sage.

Stations of the Cross are over, and the following fish fry is winding down in the dim evening light. Overhead, the steel-blue sky plays reluctant host to a spangling of early stars.

Father Rivas leans back against the clapboard side of the little church, keeping a sharp eye on the little groups of children playing in the lot. The adults are clustered around the grill and picnic table, the murmur of voices crescendoing now and then in laughter. A few beers were briefly brought out and shooed away– it is still Lent, after all. Almost Laetare Sunday. (Laetare, Jerusalem.)

Rivas is still a young man, but his back gives him trouble. The priest’s lanky frame can usually be found leaning on something, propped up at an angle like an abandoned scarecrow in black. He doesn’t miss much, despite preferring the company of the desert to that of his congregation. It’s been almost six years since he came out here; not far from his hometown, but smaller. A municipality and not a proper town, constantly threatened by the red-gold desert grit and the encroaching tumbleweeds. He likes it out here, even if he has to chase snakes and scorpions out of the sanctuary from time to time. The people are nice, but they don’t mind too much if you spend a lot of time staring out across the sagebrush flats, or if it takes a few tries for you to answer when you’re spoken to.

“Eden,” he calls warningly, as one particularly tall girl breaks away from the others and heads for the fence, “Be careful out there. Darkness sets in fast out here.”

Eden turns to look back at him, her amber eyes catching flame off of the single yellow porch light in front of the church. She leads most of the children here, and often leads them into trouble– though in fairness to her, they’re usually long out of the trouble by the time any grown-ups catch on. She’s clever, and unfortunately knows it.

“Rest assured, I won’t go far,” she says lightly. “But the starlight’s bright enough for me. I have good night vision.” She hops over the fence, and Rivas starts splitting his attention between her and the other children. A few of the younger kids run up to the edge of the fence, grabbing onto the old wooden fenceposts, and he sighs and disengages himself from his comfortable wall to go pick up Jasper, age four, and return him to the circle of porch-light.

From what he understands, there’s been a schism of sorts in the children over the last few months. Perhaps it started earlier, with the summer baseball team (the Woodpeckers.) Some of the boys from the baseball team have started their own little operation, with a base built somewhere out in the desert. Seems that Eden takes this as an insult; she’s been getting into fights with their unofficial leader, Asher. Both of them were dragged to Confession a few weeks ago after an incident with a baseball bat.

What is she doing going out into the desert at night?

There’s a bright flash of light overhead, and a shooting star– a low-flying airplane– a white bird burning– arcs across the sky, stunningly blue-white. Rivas barely has time to track it across the firmament before it strikes the horizon, afterimages blurring his vision in its wake.

“What was that? Did you see that?” calls Eden, running back towards the fence. He blinks a few times, the bruise-bright echo of light fading off of his eyelids. He takes a deep breath, the sharp smell of sage and dry earth.

Eden, her hands full of cicada shells and bone. The light of the porch reflects off of her startled face. “Was that a plane, Father? Should we go look?”

“I don’t think it was a plane,” he says, recovering himself a little. His back aches. “It looked like a meteorite to me.”

“If it was a plane that crashed, you might have to give people Last Rites,” she pursues.

“We would have felt the impact if it were a plane, or heard it.”

Eden frowns and looks back across the sagebrush flats, tucking her handfuls of cicada-shells into the pockets of her skirt. Something is building behind her face, clever-eyed, thin grim mouth. But then again, it always looks like there’s something building there.

The night grows deep, and parents collect their children and start home. The cicadas scream sporadically in the sagebrush flats, underneath their blanket of stars. “Hey, Father,” says a voice at his shoulder. Asher, with a pile of dirty paper plates in his hands. “We thought we’d stay and help clean up.”

Asher has a round freckled face and wears an outsize leather jacket whenever he can, even over his church clothes. He’s got one of the other boys with him; Cody. Black hair, dark eyes, big smile.

“Thank you, boys.”

“What’d you think about that falling star? Do you think there’s any of it left?” Asher’s bottle-green eyes are bright. He doesn’t look down at his hands at all as he works. “I bet Eden’s gonna want to give it to the Professor, but we think it should go in our museum.”

Rivas ties off the trash bag and heaves it into the dumpster. “Your museum?”

“Well, more of a collection. All kinds of cool stuff from nature and the desert, like skeletons and geodes. But it’ll be cooler than the Professor’s stuff, because he never lets anyone touch his things and they’re all hidden away in boxes. Like a museum for real people.”

“...All museums are for real people, Asher. Dr. Kaestner has a personal collection that he sometimes lets you kids look at.” He sighs and rubs his shoulder as a new twinge of pain goes down his shoulder and spine. “It’s good to have a collection of interesting things; I had something like that when I was a boy. It was mostly eggshells.”

Asher looks around. “Well, it looks pretty clean here,” he says, putting his hands on his hips. “We’re gonna head out. See ya, Father.”

“It’s long past dark,” says Rivas dubiously, looking up at the starry sky. The silver haze of the Milky Way can be seen dimly at the top of the sky, softening the hard, bright edges of the stars. When he looks down again, Asher and Cody have already scrambled over the fence, pushing through the gray-green sagebrush and scaring cicadas into the air. Cody sweeps a flashlight through the air, carving a blinding yellow path in the dark.

Unlike Eden, most of the Woodpeckers don’t have parents who will miss them out past dark. He paces at the edge of the fence, chewing on the inside of his cheek. When he looks out after the boys, cresting a hill and disappearing into the sharp shadows of the sage, he sees something shining on the horizon.

There is a great light and a soft wind out of the desert, and before he knows it he’s managed to scale the old fence, cattle wire snagging on the edge of his cassock, and headed off after them.

The light is almost blue, very pale, and would be too faint to see if it were not long past dark, but here, in the desert, in grit and darkness, in the balsamroot and sage and tufted desert grasses, he can see it. Almost like a second dawn. The light reflects gently on the narrow spearhead leaves of sage. The wind smells fresh-made tonight, sharp with the smell of distant juniper trees and quite cold for this time in the spring.

“Boys,” he calls warily, “Slow down. We don’t know exactly what it is.”

The trepidation in his voice makes Cody stop, catching at the sleeve of Asher’s oversized jacket. “We’d better wait,” he says, slowing down.

Asher sighs, climbing up onto a lichen-covered boulder to survey the landscape. His head is framed by a bright crown of stars, the face itself in a dim blue shadow. “I want to beat Eden there,” he says, scuffing a foot on the rock. “She’ll take all the magic out of it.” His sneakers are taped up with duct tape to hold the soles on; Rivas remembers that he needs to scrape together the money to get new shoes for the kids. Asher, Cody, Cody’s little sister Nina…

“Meteorites don’t glow like that,” says Rivas, squinting at the light. He thinks, now that they’re closer, that it’s coming from a cleft between two hills, some half a mile off. A small worry squirms in his gut. “It could be radioactive, or something.”

“You can feel it, though, can’t you?” asks Asher, sitting down on the boulder and sniffing the air like a dog. “The wind smells like it’s from another world, or something out of a myth. Surely it’d smell different if it were a bomb or something.”

“It’s not radioactive,” calls Eden. “Sillies.”

Rivas turns to see her picking her way across the sagebrush flats, holding up a plastic box that ticks sporadically. “Is that a Geiger counter?” he demands.

“I borrowed it from the Professor,” she says, with a sniff. “Father, what are you doing out here? This is our business.”

“No, it’s not. You’re thirteen.”

“I’m fourteen,” says Asher. “C’mon, Cody, let’s go.” He grabs the smaller boy and starts marching off. In places, the sagebrush is over the boys’ heads, and Asher has to use a stick to beat his way through it.

Rivas looks down at Eden. “Did you steal that?”

“...I plan to give it back,” she says, tossing one dark braid over her shoulder. She holds it up and starts walking, keeping a careful eye on the meter. “If it does start clicking more you should shout for the boys; they won’t believe me if I tell them.”

It’s a long walk, pathless through the sagebrush flats. The ground between the bushes is mostly bare, flecked here and there with flowers and wild, tufted grasses. The ground is gritty and flecked with small flakes of mica here and there that sparkle on the ground like another set of stars. Rivas mostly keeps his eyes turned downwards, focusing on keeping his footing without stepping on any scorpions or snakes that might still be out so late or tripping over the protruding roots. His shoes crunch in the rough sand as he follows Eden down a narrow cow-trail, into the sloping valley between hills.

“Father? Father?” calls Asher, from ahead. There’s a note of panic in his voice; Rivas’ head snaps up, and he starts to run.

“Asher? Are you boys hur–”

There is a crater at the impact site, dark spines of vitrified sand rising from the edge of the pit. The sagebrush around it has been singed and blackened, the sand and gravel piled in echoes of shockwaves,

and in the center of the crater,

there is a small girl.

She can’t be older than seven or eight, and her hair is ashen blonde and glowing. Her skin is pale, tinged with blue at the lips and on the fingers, and she has no clothes except for the grit and ash that covers her body and the long, shining curtain of her hair.

Her eyes are mirrors, dragonfly-faceted behind a mask of ash.

“...She must have come from the sky,” says Eden, scrambling down into the crater, and holds up the Geiger counter. The clicks become slightly more pronounced; a slow heartbeat. The girl turns to look up at her, shuffling away a little as Eden begins to chatter– switching languages every few words, English to Spanish to broken Navajo.

“Get away from her,” Asher snaps. “Look, she doesn’t understand what you’re saying.”

“She must understand something,” says Eden. “Father, you know Latin, right?”

“Why would she know Latin?” demands Asher. He shucks off his jacket and tries to give it to the girl, who switches her mirrored gaze over to him as the jacket falls limply onto her lap. He sighs and picks it up again, trying to wrap it more closely around her shoulders.

“She might be an angel…”

Rivas’ thoughts spin frantically, trying to figure out what to do. She looks like a little girl, surely, and not an angel. He feels like an angel should be older. What if someone comes looking for her? The second, more worrying question– if something comes looking for her?

“Hello,” he says, and swallows hard. He smiles weakly.

“Are you a Night Warden?” she asks. Her voice is high and slightly accented, the formal speech of a young child who hasn’t quite learned how tone works. “Can you help me find my mama?”

It’s a slight shock to hear her speak, but the relief more than makes up for it. She can understand him. “I’m a priest,” he says, squatting at the edge of the crater. The wind is cold, but he can feel heat radiating from the sand. Good thing it took them a little while to get out here, or Asher and Eden would have been badly burned. “Where did you last see her?”

“...In the garden.”

He probably should have expected that line of questioning to be less than useful.

“We could take her back to our base,” says Eden. “In the auto junkyard. We have sleeping bags there for when we go stargazing, and none of the adults would find out about her; this doesn’t seem like something the adults should know about. They might call…the government.” Her bright amber eyes flick up towards Rivas, weighing him thoughtfully.

“I don’t think Father Rivas counts,” Cody stage-whispers. “Right?”

Asher gently takes each of the girl’s arms and pushes them into the sleeves of the coat, which comes down past her knees. “She’s about the same size as my sisters,” he observes, fastening a button to hold the coat in place. The girl reaches out and touches his face with a small, silver hand. “Eden, you won’t tell the Professor, will you? Even if we do bring her to your base?”

She shakes her head grimly. “We’re going to have to carry her back,” she says. “The cheatgrass and sage are going to cut up her legs otherwise. How do shifts sound?”

Rivas’ forehead furrows. “I should carry her,” he says, and is met with three flat stares.

“Your back, Father,” says Eden.

“She’s not very big, we can do it,” Asher says with a wave of his hand. He looks almost unfamiliar without his jacket on, in a slightly oversized blue t-shirt and nervous goosebumps covering his bare arms.

“Fine, but I’ll carry her first,” Rivas concludes. “And we’re taking her to the church, not the junkyard. Cody, Eden, do either of you have any little girls’ clothes at home?” Eden nods.

He approaches the girl carefully, becoming aware that the sand in the crater is almost painfully hot. It’s a good thing it took them a while to get out here, otherwise he’d certainly be burning his hands right now. The wind is still cold. “Let’s get you somewhere inside, okay?” he says to the girl, putting on a friendly smile. “What’s your name? Do you want something to eat?”

She touches her lips hesitantly and nods. “Heliaca.”

It’s a long walk back. The girl Heliaca gazes up at the moonless sky the whole way, her dragonfly eyes tracing the milky way. She seems unbothered by the sharp, thin twigs of the big sagebrush scraping against her bare legs.

They make a line against the sky as they trek along the ridged earth, gravel and sand shifting beneath them. Rivas, and then Eden, tall and lanky, and Asher, smacking his arms to keep warm, and Cody trailing a little behind to pick up pebbles. The girl, shining, outlines their silhouettes in liquid silver.

Eden breaks away at the edge of town. “I’ll go get her some of my old things; I can get in and out without my dad noticing,” she says, scrambling up and over the fence and taking off down the road. “He shouldn’t be back from his shift yet, anyway.”

Asher jogs after her, his duct-tape sneakers snapping against the asphalt.

“...I guess they’ll be back soon,” says Rivas to Cody.

The younger boy nods, his dark hair flopping down over his eyes. “Can I have a snack, too?”

“I’ll see what we have.”

They have chocolate-chip granola bars and juice boxes in the church basement, as it turns out. Also, a couple of very crushed fruit rollups, a clementine, and a rather stale loaf of whole wheat bread, which Rivas decides to throw away. These must be leftover snacks from the last time 4-H was in here.

He sits Heliaca on the floor and puts an unwrapped granola bar into her hand. “Cody, can you help her with the juice box? I’m going to go make some tea, or hot cocoa or something.” He feels the urgent need to make something with his hands, to shoo away the worries that are building in his head.

What’s going to come after her? Ordinarily he’d laugh at Eden’s whisper about the government finding out; she picked that up from her parents, a parroted turn of phrase. She might not actually be wrong this time, though. There’s bound to be some investigation, even a small one, and their footprints are all over that impact site.

He rubs his aching shoulder absentmindedly and leans against the small kitchen table in the rectory as the teakettle boils.

And what about that mother? If she does come after the girl, will she be like a human?

What if she doesn’t come at all?

The whistle of the teakettle makes him jump. He pours the water into five mugs of varying sizes, digs out honey and packets of creamer and tea. When he gets back to the basement, Asher is back with a pile of clothes.

“Eden’s dad got home early, so she had to go to bed,” he explains, sifting through the rumpled pile. Underwear, mismatched socks, a couple of dresses and a rather faded sweater that Rivas remembers Eden wearing constantly when she was ten or eleven. “I brought all the stuff, though. I was worried she might snitch, but it seems like she really wants to keep this quiet. Helps that the Professor is probably asleep.” Heliaca, sucking quietly on a juice box, examines the clothing.

“Don’t you know how clothes work?” asks Cody. He starts pouring honey into his mug of hot water until Rivas reaches over and wrestles the squeeze bottle away from him.

“I know,” she says, putting down the juice box and picking up a sock. “I’ve seen Earth people wear all these things. I’m just not normally so small.” She pulls the sock on, upside-down, and then puts a second one on correctly. “You have so few hands,” she adds casually, which is a little worrying in implication.

“Hey, Father, can I have the honey?” asks Asher, leaning over to try to take the bottle out of Rivas’ hand. He, at least, has actual tea steeping in his cup and not just boiling water.

“Yes, fine.” Rivas is picking up one of the dresses to hand to Heliaca– she can’t keep wearing Asher’s coat forever, after all– when a sharp knock sounds on the door upstairs.

Not likely to be continued. But maybe; if I do continue it I'll put links to the other parts down here.

#inklings challenge #inklingschallenge #team chesterton #genre: intrusive fantasy #theme: clothing #story: unfinished #theme: food

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weonlyneedfour · 9 months

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"Slow down, Pamonha! What's gotten into you, haven't we been shot at by bad guys enough times by now? Well, it's not MY problem you're made of meat and I'm not! The recipe keeps catching on fire cause I can't focus! I am NOT letting them show me up at that stupid cookout, if I can't finish this potion in time, I'm putting YOU in it, got it? Hi-yaah!"

Emilia the Ragdoll

Character created by: Monteiro Lobato Home series: Sitio do Pica Pau Amarelo

Title: Freedom or Death. The Countess of Three Little Stars. The Most Selfish Creature Alive. Alter Ego: Marchioness. Yakety Ann. Nationality: Brazilian. Occupation: Space pirate (currently) (not actually a job). The self-appointed brains of whatever group she joins (also not actually a job). Self-employed equestrian dancer, trapeze artist, "cloth fairy", "name giver", "idea inventor", "telescopic looker", Saci hunter, "letter sender", writer of memoirs, chief editor of the Yellow Woodpecker Scream newspaper, and many others (...okay well some of these are actual jobs, kinda). Group affiliation: None. The Encerrabodes Family (formerly). Base of Operations: The Solar System. Yellow Woodpecker Ranch, in Brazil (formerly). Likes: Her pet dog Pamonha. Her former pet rhinoceros Quindim. Collecting artifacts. Talking. Dislikes: Losing. Sitting in silence. Having to stitch herself back together (that's what you're supposed to order the losers around you into doing) Skill: Storytelling. Bossing others around. Chaos.

Powers: Ragdoll brought to life by a talking pill given to her by Doctor Snail (who is not a real doctor, but he is a real snail). Has survived the destruction of her physical form many times and constantly stitches and refills her body back together. Able to curl into a ball and move at high speeds, wrestle beings several times her size, and summon items out of hammerspace. Displays incongruent biological reactions such as vulnerability to cold, insect bites and terrible smells, suggesting a hybrid existence. Has spent several years / decades in an inanimate state akin to her pre-sentience existence, indicating that the effects of the pill are either temporary or inconsistent. Carries with her a supply of a mysterious pixie powder that enables her to travel through space. Teleportation is not instant and her reserves are limited.

Once upon a time, there was a strange ranch by the Brazilian countryside where strange adventures befell the family who lived there. In that family at Yellow Woodpecker Ranch, there was a girl named Lúcia, who was gifted a ragdoll by the housemaid Auntie Nastácia, who originally crafted the clumsy little witch out of an old skirt and macela leaves. Lúcia grew tired of talking to a doll that wouldn't answer back, and in one of her adventures, took her to an enchanted kingdom, where she was given a talking pill. With an outlet at last, Emilia began her new life by loudly complaining and cursing about the horrid taste of the pill, and she has never stopped complaining about things in the decades since.

In no time at all, Emilia made herself into a fiercely independent, opinionated troublemaker. Fearless, stubborn, tempestuous, intolerant of injustice and driven by self-serving curiosity, always quick to insult or argue or speak her mind at length, the raggedy anarchist eagerly takes off on any adventure or goal she sets her mind on, and from 1920 to the 1940s she adventured alongside Lúcia and her family as well as on her own, often getting into trouble and fighting to defend her home and friends from many, many villains.

She's fenced scorpions and fought martian hordes, defeated the world's strongest sailor by tricking him into eating mold, and traveled to the stars on her own and rescued a holy birdman from the Milky Way (after debating whether or not to cut off his wings to see what happened). She's spat in the faces of King Arthur and Hercules, and once held the world hostage with a shrinking spell in an attempt to force the President of the United States to end all war forever. Emilia is a volatile and incorrigibly immature trickster, unburdened with human complications such as organ failure, death, and having to ever accept being wrong in an argument.

Emilia is currently a living relic of a time that doesn't exist anymore, if it ever did. As Yellow Woodpecker Ranch is nothing more than a children's fantasy series from the early 1900s, whatever freakish anomaly led to Emilia leaving the pages did not carry over to the supporting cast she used to be a part of. She's spent many years in oscillating inactivity where she reverts to inanimate doll form again, and has only sporadically been seen interacting with the local and international caped community over the century. She was last spotted years ago transversing the dunes of Mars with Six-Gun Gorilla and held up in the court of the Clown Kings of Venus months prior, which indicates that she has spent most of her time since traveling across the solar system, using her dwindling reserves of pixie powder, making the most of her sporadic returns to conscience.

It is as of yet unknown whether she's working on any kind of long-term plan, or whether she's merely trying to live and outrun the oblivion that's covered the rest of her family, merely pursuing her destructive and childish carefree whims as long as they'll take her. But then again, those whims have made her quite a force to be reckoned with over the past century. And if this one thinks it'll succeed where thousands failed in finally snuffing out the little firecracker, it's got another thing coming.

#weon4 #we only need four #hero forge #superheroes #public domain #public domain character #emilia the ragdoll #monteiro lobato #sitio do pica-pau amarelo #boneca emilia

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sepdet · 3 months

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I had to get another 12 vials of blood siphoned off, so it's time for another exciting installment in The Vampire Diaries, brought to you by the Anerican healthcare system.

Let's call this The Stigmata Phlebotomy Lab Strikes Back, shall we?

Content warning: blood, needles, medical incompetence

Recap: For those of you just joining us, in 2022 I became a statistic for the COVID + mild autoimmune diseases like arthritis can trigger "autoimmune dysregulation" studies. That means the immune system starts running around screaming THE SKY IS FALLING and attacking one's own organs in an attempt to flush out intruders. (Ew, I just realized, it turned my T-cells into MAGATs/Tories.)

Good news, the target was not my lungs.

Bad news, two words you never want to hear together from an ophthalmologist: "eye melt".

After many creative ($$$$) measures, what saved my eyes were eyedrops made from my own blood plasma, because we're resorting to medical witchcraft now. (Platelets, apparently.)

So. Vital Tears? Saved my vision. Trouble is, their phlebotomists are auditioning for Monty Python.

The Hostile Housecall Sketch. When I couldn't see to drive, I had to invite a vampire into my home, which was a little awkward for an introvert who's had to self-isolate since 2019. I'm sure my manners were rusty, but still, she was the most uncommunicative medical professional i have ever met, sort of an anti-dentist. I fumblingly suggested the dining room after she didn't reply to my "Welcome, I'm [name], this is my first time so I'm kind of nervous!" I realized afterwards that she never told me her name. I know she must have spoken at some point, but all I remember is stony silence.

Sterile Procedures? In This Pandemic? Next time I drove to the lab hoping to find a more friendly med tech. And I found one! He was very friendly while dropping all twelve vials of my blood on the floor again and again because he kept setting them on a rounded stool instead of a table. Quoth he: "Don't worry, it happens all the time. The last patient was nervous about it, too, but I told him not to worry about it!" I was not altogether reassured. Maybe I shouldn't have looked at those Health Advisory flyers on the way in warning about a drug-resistant candida aureus outbreak in county healthcare facilities.

Operation Stigmata. Today'a score: 5 phlebotomists, 9 rubber gloves, 3 glasses of water and 2 low sodium V8s before the appointment and 2 liters of water during, 7 cotton pads. 8 bandaids, ~15 disinfecting sterile swabs, 3 rubber tourniquets (sometimes 2 at once), EIGHT different needles and EIGHT different punctures, and 2 hours to fill 12 vials with blood.

I almost made it through without losing my temper — the last thing you wanna do is antagonize someone putting a needle in you— but after one particularly painful bit of windshield wiper subdermal probing, I finally burst out, "You're 90 degrees to the vein...I've never seen anyone do that before!"

Still, apart from that, I kept up my Model Patient persona pretty well. At the end, when one of the women said, "Thanks for being so patient," I replied with a firm, "Thanks for sticking with me... pun intentional."

I'm honestly impressed. Both elbows feel like I've been assaulted by Woody Woodpecker, but it took a dedicated team effort to outdo the phlebotomist who left me with major bruises and visible needle marks at my high school graduation 35 years ago.

Now, how to bribe the vet who draws blood from my cat into practicing human medicine without a license.

#medical adventures #chronic illness #storytime

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meta-bird · 1 year

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Hello all!

Really exciting post today! I managed to take a photo of a Tawny Owl that has taken up residence at a nearby park. They're sleeping, so I had to take extra care not to disturb them:

This is the first ever wild owl I've seen! I've heard Tawnys before at the library, but seeing one is a very different experience <3

I tried to get photos of some Great Spotted Woodpeckers, but unfortunately, my phone camera refused to co-operate, so I don't have any. I managed to take a few photos of the Jackdaws that appear to have taken up residence above the owl, but I couldn't get any closer than these. Surprisingly, I don't have any photos of Jackdaws so these were a good addition.

Not many other photos despite hearing tonnes of birds, my camera was acting up, unfortunately. I did see a Swan chase a Goose for about a full minute, though, which was incredibly funny since i don't even know what they did to deserve that 🤧

#nature diary 2023 #Eurasian Jackdaw #Tawny Owl

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hybridmindthoughtsreloaded · 10 months

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Canadians were using the vitaset in the 1970's to "swamp out" the Russian woodpecker mind interference signal.

The duga system was extremely powerful, reaching over 10 MW, and broadcast in the shortwave radio bands. It was given the nickname Russian Woodpecker by shortwave listeners for its emissions randomly appearing and sounding like sharp, repetitive tapping noises at a frequency of 10 Hz. The random frequency hops often disrupted legitimate broadcasts, amateur radio operations, oceanic commercial aviation communications, and utility transmissions, resulting in thousands of complaints by many countries worldwide. The signal became such a nuisance that some communications receivers began including "Woodpecker Blankers" in their circuit designs.

St. Michael's Ministry of Gnosis serves as a sanctuary for literature, religion, scientific research, history, gnosis, and art. Our main practice is the collection and application of knowledge.

Official Telegram Channel for St. Michael's Ministry of Gnosis The uploaded content, opinions, and views expressed here do not reflect the opinions or views of St. Michael's Ministry of Gnosis. https://t.me/ministry0fgnosis

The Ministry of Gnosis Open Forum Telegram Channel serves as a platform for content sharing and civil discourse. Join today and help the community grow! https://t.me/ministry0fgnosisforum

#ministry of gnosis

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tarditardi · 10 months

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Woodpecker Milano Marittima: incanta, unisce ed emoziona. Di nuovo. Dal 30 giugno

Incanta, unisce, emoziona. Di nuovo, solo il venerdì notte, dalle 23 all'alba. La storia di Woodpecker, storica discoteca di Milano Marittima (Ravenna), riparte venerdì 30 giugno, mettendo in console il resident Mitch B. e con lui uno dei dj italiani più importanti di sempre, Albertino (m2o, Radio Deejay). Il sound è soprattutto house, ma non solo, da vivere in party pensati soprattutto per un pubblico over 25.

I dj al Woodpecker, però, non sono però gli unici e soli protagonisti. Con la loro musica andranno in scena veri show interpretatati da ballerini e performer professionisti, spettacoli sempre diversi per ogni serata d'apertura del locale. L'ispirazione degli show di Woodpecker sono aria, terra, acqua e fuoco, ovvero gli stessi elementi di un luogo unico, in cui ogni dettaglio crea armonia. Questo spazio fu infatti progettato nella seconda metà degli anni '60 dal visionario architetto Filippo Monti, che per raccontarlo disse: "facciamo un cerchio, facciamo affiorare l'acqua e ci mettiamo i coccodrilli".

L'iconica cupola, al cui interno oggi spiccano le opere di Blu, uno degli street artist più importanti al mondo; laghi circolari che si intersecano; scale da scendere e poi salire; il verde di una delle zone più belle della Romagna, che qui fa da palcoscenico al divertimento notturno...

Woodpepecker, di proprietà del Comune di Cervia ed ora gestito dalla famiglia Guerrini, oggi come ieri, è uno uno spazio magico, che colpisce al cuore gli amanti del design, dell'architettura e dell'arte, non solo della musica e del divertimento. C'è chi ha definito la sua cupola "la Cappella Sistina della street art" e non per caso nel 2017 il FAI (Fondo Ambiente Italiano) ha inserito il Woodpecker tra i luoghi da visitare nelle sue Giornate FAI.

Oggi, dopo lunghi decenni di chiusura, Woodpecker torna a vivere, quando la luna splende nel cielo e non solo. La nuova gestione ha voluto intervenire il meno possibile sulla struttura, per lasciarne intatto il fascino senza tempo. Ogni ospite avrà quindi tutto lo spazio necessario per vivere una serata sentendosi sempre al centro della scena, grazie anche alle proposte dello staff e dei bartender, all'altezza delle aspettative dei più esigenti.

Circondato da una duna che lo nasconde alla vista di chi passa per caso, Woodpecker dal 30 giugno vuol tornare ad incantare, unire ed emozionare tutti coloro che lo scelgono per vivere la magia dell'estate.

Woodpecker

Viale Nullo Baldini n.20 - Milano Marittima

www.woodpeckerdiscoteca.it

www.instagram.com/_woodpeckerofficial

Biglietti, tavoli www.woodpeckerdiscoteca.it/eventi/

Info & Booking +39 348 860 9356

Taxi, NCC: +39 333 3470315

MEDIA INFO

https://lorenzotiezzi.it/woodpecker/

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bramsenbradshaw81 · 1 year

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Test Drinking Water Before Trusting Your Professional Relationships

To deter squirrels and grackles, use safflower seed by itself in all of the bird feeders with the exception of thistle tube feeders. Safflower seed is of interest to cardinals, house finch, chickadees, doves and other birds, yet grackles rarely feed onto it if in any way. A feeder filled up with safflower seed may be hung in a tree beside a squirrels nest to begin with will totally ignore the game. Make it a a part of you feeding program. It might take considerably a week for your birds to generally be accustomed to safflower seed if high definition tv never been offered these before. Tube turkey calls consist of latex which is tied with rubber band up into the half belonging to the tube call's top and hollow drums. Tight-lipped gobblers often respond well to tube call since the sound is probably a unusual can rival a box or a slate that are normal sounds to be heard within spring season for gobblers. Being different, in this kind activity, is helpful. steel pipe is everywhere. Pipe can be fabricated for some purposes. Read the Large E.D. circular hollow section column being used for billboard structures when traveling down a lot highway. It's used in parking lots, for "Bollards" or "Bumper Posts". Practically every restaurant or place of business has an outdoors sign linked with a pole made of steel. Examine The Process For LSAW Steel Pipe of galvanized pipe used for highway signals. The list goes on and on, fence posts, culvert pipe at no more your driveway, pipe piling to stabilize foundation structures of large building and skyscrapers, slurry line pipe used in quarries and sand operations, columns their basement of your dwelling. That's just to name some structural practices. When Acquired into very first band, by this time, Got found my influences and began to emulate the group. I found out what guitars and amps they were using there isn't anything bought round tube identical shoes equipment. For me it was the Strat and Fender tube built-in amplifiers. Follow any posted safety regulations at the area where you'll be boating. This could seem fairly basic, but because on the this rule gets overlooked a entire lot. Look for the posted sign with regulations and take a flash to see clearly over in the instance that there are any specific things to check out out for where you might be that daily schedule. A every important feature of the king, could be the actual fact, that minerals and vitamins a real tube. Yes even using a very cheap amplifier, even with a cheap old guitar, the quality if this pedal, will save you in a gig or recording. Although Hot-dip galvanized steel pipe is conventional way bird feeding period, a lot of individuals have established year round bird feeding programs. Natural foods become scarce after winter until a new crop of seeds and berries ripen in late summer. Wildlife biologists can recommend that birds nest earlier, quicker, that has more successful nestings when supplemental foods are marketed. This is a result of less time spent foraging and competing for low food reserves after cold months. For example: Woodpeckers during the nesting season eat more suet between March and July than all winter long. You can attract an extensive variety of birds through-out the year by establishing a year round bird feeding program.

#erw pipe #erw steel tube #steel pipe #lsaw pipe

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leyswhumpdump · 2 years

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Hidden Ink #15: Iron Bird

The next instalment will be the end of this arc. But don’t worry, there’ll be more soon enough.

Masterlist

Tropes and CWs: Hunting, some swearing (you can tell this is still Mika’s POV).

Mika held the bowstring taut against his ear, waiting for the stag to step into his sights. The position never held well for long and part of him feared he’d been too hasty in drawing back, as his shoulders trembled with the strain.

He wouldn’t normally have taken on a stag, not in rutting season anyway—this beast looked to be twice Mika’s weight, thick in the neck, with a full head of antlers indicating his maturity. Mika did not feel like being on the receiving end of those antlers. He’d seen the damage they’d done to some of the surrounding trees.

But food was food, and they were running out.

The stag looked around the trees, eyes lingering on Mika’s hiding place. Mika held his breath, his heart hammering. One twitch at the wrong time could send it charging. He’d foreseen it enough to position himself carefully, in a narrow gap between trees, but a stag could still outrun him. Worse still, he had an arrow ready to loose and no manoeuvrability in front of him. This had been a terrible idea.

The cold sank into gloveless hands, numbing his fingers on the bow. He wished he’d taken better advantage of the chemical warmers Ari had crafted.

The stag turned his head away, snorting breath-clouds from his nostrils. It would have been a perfect shot if he’d only been a little farther to the left. Mika released what tension he could on the bow, wincing as he did. The string wasn’t designed for its user changing their mind once committed. His quarry paused, as if listening.

Then ran. His hooves kicked up a trail of autumn leaves, carrying him away… to a mate? To safety? Mika took a random shot through the trees, operating on a prayer rather than anything else. The arrow sailed clear of the stag, hitting a birch a few feet from where it had originally stood.

Mika swore. A thirty-minute hunt, wasted. He went to retrieve his arrow, leaving behind his own bad-tempered trail of disturbed leaves. No point in staying quiet anymore. He yanked the arrow free with a grunt, his movements loud and out of place. If he paused he could hear a woodpecker, a rustling breeze, the roar of a distant stag. Sounds of the forest that ought to give him some clues for another meal and yet here he was, sulking like a child who hadn’t gotten his way. He sighed, rubbing sweat away. There was no way he was returning to the cabin empty-handed.

The woods exploded with movement.

Mika barely had time to register what was happening, let alone move aside. Deer charged past on either side of him, long legs galloping over rocks and fallen trees. A young buck almost followed the same trail as his rival. Mika fumbled for his bow, cursing his clumsy fingers, but the deer had vanished by the time he’d nocked an arrow. The woodpecker drilled harder and louder, as though mocking the second chance he’d lost.

Mika leaned into a nearby tree, puffing fog, trying to snap himself to his senses. He should have expected it from the season. He’d seen the males chasing the does back in late summer. Just a standard part of the rutting process.

Except… the younger males didn’t like to take on the big stags, did they? If the state of the nearby trees was anything to go by, that stag from earlier had left his scent everywhere. And the buck didn’t appear to have been chasing any females, either. That implied something had disturbed a local breeding ground. Mika cast a nervous glance at his surroundings. Too soon to jump to any conclusions, but his hunter’s instincts were screaming at him to get out. He took a southward step, back towards the cabin.

The woodpecker sounded wrong. No pauses in its drilling, and it was getting louder. Mika froze mid-step, then grabbed a tree and pulled himself against the trunk. Whatever it was, he was taking no chances.

Something took away the sun.

Certain he’d misinterpreted it, Mika looked up. He immediately wished he hadn’t. A dark shape sailed almost directly above his head, the shape of a bird without wings. An iron bird, Mika thought, frantically searching his memory for anything like it. The bird lifted a breeze that coaxed high leaves from the treetops, and then passed on. Heading south, towards the cabin.

Ari.

Mika took off running, just as the deer had done. Only he was no deer, and his stupid human feet stumbled over every uneven patch of ground. A wild boar would have been more graceful. He charged past trees, barged through ferns, ignored thorny brambles and spiteful nettles. By the time he was halfway back he was bleeding through the snags on his sleeves, with stinging pains in his hands and face—and there was no longer any sign or sound of the iron bird.

Gasping, Mika bent into his knees. It had been a while since he’d run quite as frantically as that, and his body protested the idea of a second sprint. Instead he moved at a speed-walk, taking care to step around the traps he’d laid down. It would be a poor show if, in going to warn Ari, he snared himself.

Still a silent forest—eerily silent, the kind of silence that raised Mika’s hackles. It was only when the clearing came into sight that he realised the iron bird had landed.

“Oh, fuck.” Mika retreated further inside the treeline, staring wildly at this new scene. People. The bird had been carrying people—more in one go than he’d ever seen in his life. They’d scattered across half the clearing by this point. He squinted to see if Ari was among them, but found it near-impossible to make anyone out. Just a bunch of featureless shapes, half-camouflaged against the grass. He shuddered.

Even if he couldn’t see their faces, he knew they meant trouble for Ari.

Shouts carried across the clearing. Shouts he couldn’t make out, that might have been speaking any language. Mika thought he heard the cabin door slam.

Ari?

A hand clamped over his mouth, cutting off his whispered dismay. Someone breathed ragged breaths into his ear.

Mika spun his shoulder back and drove his elbow into his assailant’s ribs.

Part 16

Taglist: @heart4brains @mechanical-caracal @the-blind-one-speaks @thegreatwhodini @wolfeyedwitch

#whump #whump writing #caretaker pov #plot plot plot plot #well I guess there's a cliffhanger here #sorry for my cheap narrative tricks #not a biologist #or a wildlife expert #hidden ink #original post

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thetrailofflames · 1 year

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The Duneraiders Culture

Values: The felines of secrecy and shadow, they value Stealth, Cunning, Strategy, and Adaptability.

~Based on leopards and manticores~

Ranks

A Chief is the face of the guild, their word is final as the founder's law.

Delagate - the second command of the guild. Tasks include things such as being charge of setting up patrols and deciding elite cats, and on occasion helping peace talks

Elites are the next highest with Otacustes under them. Elties are - one of a special rank who who are in charge of maintaining order; typically, can be chosen as a delegate, while Otacustes are the ones behind the scenes of the guild. They are trained to scout for information and to kill at any means necessary. Typically cats of the elite as well.

Clerics and Augars are around the same authority of rank.

Positers and Fabers are around the same however there is a splint. Positers are the construction cats. The ones who help keep the camp in shape and re-enforce the walls. Fabers are cats who excel with using their paws and claws to craft all sorts of things such as nets and traps

Gladiators are the cats trained to excel in fighting process. Looking for new tactics and tree running techniques.

Lēohts are the cats who operate during the daytime. They patrol and guard the land in careful steps in the daylight.

Veterans are retirees who have given service to their guild and have earned rest.

Trappers - the primary hunters of the guild. They operate with more crafty ways to obtain prey such as using traps.

Nurses and Rangers typically are put in the same authority rank.

Succession of the Chiefdom

Passed from bloodline. However, it is not linear. A cat can challenge the current bloodline to put theirs at the top, once defeated, that bloodline is blocked.

Only the most powerful lines may prosper.

Native Prey

The land is marshy yet dry at the same time. This leaves room for many sorts of animals to to found.

Frogs / Toads

Lizards / Salamanders

Woodpeckers

Dragonflies

Beetles / Worms / Grubs

Trading

The dry land may not offer much but it does still offer things to the ones living as well as supplies from there.

Reptile skins and scales

Eggs

Mud

Decoration

Scars are viewed as marks of stupidity. Many try their best to remain as unmarked as possible. The worst scar one can get is one on the face or chest.

They don’t often don themselves with accessories. It gets in the way of being sneaky and shadow-like.

Their ears are typically cut to deal with the harsh territory, cut by the cleric.

Body Traits

These cats have small frames. They are the smallest of all the guilds.

Small paws

They either have short, bobbed tails or longer tails with a sharp prick at the end.

Decent sized wings, used for gliding.

Heterochromia is common, especially complete heterochromia.

Their small paws typically have unsheathed claws, unable to sheathe all the way.

They have narrowed eyes even when relaxed.

Spines that grow from the back of the neck, usually two, rarely four

They have long upper canines and sometimes lower canines.

Fur tends to be thin and often missing fur or patchy.

Naming Conventions

Their names typically involve their surroundings. Often also include some crude humor with their promotion names.

They also partake in their version of legacy naming. If a guildmates dies, and litter is born, a cub shall be given the name of the fallen.

Religion

Just as religious as the Meadows, some would say even more so. They see themselves as more connected to the stars due to their founder and Sirsha’s closeness, especially during after the war when they were practically banished from the day.

Their patrons are the Leopard, Jaguar, and Sirsha.

Holy Days

Sirsha’s Gleam is a prime night of activity. The time to celebrate the seniors and loved ones of since passed. The main opportunity for partners to be bonded under the eye of the beloved moon.

Shadowed Night - A night when their founder and Sirsha are together and display a night of trust to them. A judgement of what they will do without their watchful eyes.

Courting / Bonding Habits

Romance is few and far between with most cats coupling solely to bare the guild young however that’s not to say it doesn't happen.

Courting varies such as hunting and fighting. A romantic might bring their desired partner in a private area with fireflies.

Pairs are joined during the full moon, where Sirsha and their founder’s eye is full. To not be joined during the full moon is said to lead to a failed bonding.

Very encouraging to polyamory

Family dynamics

Cubs are weaned at 2 months old at the latest. Cubs are encouraged to start trying small bits before then to become more self-sufficient.

Bonds between siblings, especially ones between littermates are said to be the strongest.

Parental bonds aren’t the strongest, but it isn’t discouraged.

Death + Burial

Kin of the fallen (blood or found) are allowed witness the safe passage of their loved one’s journey to the stars.

The bodies is left to the dark birds, to give back the cycle. Bones are collected and cleansed. Skulls are kept and carved while teeth and claws are passed to the kin of the fallen then to rest of the guild so the fallen may continue to contribute to the guild and their way of life.

The remains are slathered with pine sap and are taken to the Rika’s Tree where the roots slowly entrap them and it becomes one with it. The leaves and fruit of the tree is sacred and to take or stars forbid, eat it, is to spit on the gods, your ancestors, and to damn yourself to agony beyond the grave.

Other Information

These cats look like their close to death and it baffles the younger cats from other guilds that these cats keep living.

Toms aren’t barred from the position of chief or second, but they have a long history of being led by mollies that it’s shocking when a tom rises to chief.

They tend to have a dark sense of humor and don’t realize they are being creepy to an outside perspective.

#guild culture #xenomoggy #trail of flames #the duneraiders

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