#where the largest animal is a deer

[voiceofthesilly]

Hi, uhm.

Your designs for the voices in STP are..

Genius.

The premise of their design are simple (birds(?) with animal skull heads(?)) yet it makes them so distinguishable!

Also your art is very yummy- It's beautiful.

Ajsjadhdja thanku!! this means a lot, espeically since i love your designs for them a LOT Gonna take that as an opportunity to explain them some bc i havent really done that so beware, long rant under the cut

The general idea was for them to have masks of various woodland creatures, as a general reference to the cabin being set in the woods and to add a bit of a fairytale twist, as often in fairytales guiding voices in form of animals appear But thinking about it skulls are such a sick idea and might use them for less cartoony iterations honestly

From left to right!

Cold was actually pretty hard to pick an animal for - @3zethe3zr has been immense help figuring those out with various voices and we went through options like wolves and bears before i settled on lynx (quick, efficient and solitary assassin). I wanted Cold to feel big and overpowering, blocking out everything else. In a way that silence is big, sorta. You might also notice that they're the only voice without markings - its partially because everything i could come up with felt too on the nose, and partially because well. what symbol better than vast emptiness. Largest voice! 8'2" tall

Paranoid is a mouse, i feel like the association here is pretty straightforward. Big wings to hide behind and bald patches from overpreening. Their pattern is the eyes, they can't seem to get rid of them. Some on the feathers, some straight on the skin.

Hunted gets a hare mask because i said so and hares have amazing prey eyes. It's rather large, but always crouched over and ready to bolt, making it much smaller than it could be - Hunted always says we're small, but there's a moment where Wild refutes that. Of course it's not in reference to physical size there, but I wanted to use that nonetheless. Target mark on their chest and mask. Eyes on the side of the head - not sure where i heard it first but it was sych a good take i had to do it

Hero !!! I struggled a lot with the animal for them, went through a bunch of deer, wolf, even bird at some point (birds were off limits). In the end went with 3zr's squirrel suggestion - a little kind voice sitting on your shoulder. Hero also gets a cape, as a treat. for being there always. And because they're a hero and im no edna mode. Markings are the slits in a knight helmet!

Stubborn was im pretty sure the first one who got designed at all, due to intense stubborn brainrot. Animal is a boar, due to the mfs being extremely hard to kill, though i did want to go with a wolverine for a while. His mask is moved aside, he's straighforward and has no need for hiding anythin. Masks off and knives out, am i right . He's the shortest voice in the lineup (whole 3'7"). this is because im not tall and i like him. I tried to strike a balance between squarish and triangle build. His wings are proudly on display, and so are his scars - a testiment to our resilience.

Opportunist! my littlest guy who missed being a weasel by like 3 milimeters and ended up fox. because of course he did. He's fucking tiny - i usually like making voices who dont consider us strong bigger than they think, but in this case it felt fitting to make it something he works with. The markings are pointed knives, pretty self-explanatory i feel. Usually partially hidden under the chest feathers. Also, his arms are hidden behind his back here but the palms are red - blood on him hands

Smitten is a deer! They always felt very noble to me, and, well, heart shape in the antlers! The mask is somewhat ill-fitting and she can't see well but that's alright, love is blind. The largest marking by far - he's not one to hide his nature, and his heart is as big as the markings would suggest. I wanted to give her this sorta chivalrous fairytale knight build. Wings folded into a wing shape!

Contrarian is another long boi, i felt it would work well for whatever silly limb contortions hed do. The animal is a natterer's bat specifically - again, 3zr's genious idea

Neck feathers meant to resemble a jester's collar. Funky patterns meant to be confusing and disorientin. In the lineup in particular i didn't do it, but the idea is that with the mask slightly more up and beak open it almost looks like he has three heads, paralleling Stranger

Skeptic i wanted to have a very solid build, so square he is. The markings are question marks - both on the mask and feathers. He's a little silly with his saying wink out loud, so he gets to have a question mark tie. Wings folded behind mimicking a trench coat. He deserves glasses

Broken is actually second longest! It doesn't matter though, does it. They can be as large as they want, doesn't change anything. Mask is a raccoon dog - felt fitting vibewise. Bald patches around neck, wrists and ankles, as if remnants of shackles locked around them. The markings are meant to mimick both cracks (in shape) and chains (in layout). Mask pulled up for them double sad eyes and because there isnt even a point in hiding

Last up, cheated! Hedgehog bastard. I guess kinda paralleling Razor in that regard? They're not particularly big and their feathers are ruffled. Uses wings for extra expression! Markings meant to both resemble scars and diamond suit

Also, earlier verisons!

#slay the princess #ask #stp voices

[x-candy-guts-x]

Yautja x human ft worm on a string

I had some more thoughts :)

•It’s really interesting to me how humans are at their core a prey species. You can argue that forwards facing eyes are a trait of predators however it’s seen in basically all monkeys and apes and they are primarily vegetarians. They eat small prey like insects or small mammals but aren’t on the scale of say k-9’s, felines, and other obligatory carnivores. I believe it’s primarily a trait derived from our deeply social species. Our eyes are a huge part of our kinds communication wether we are looking at something or someone. We follow the direction of peoples eyes when talking. It’s been a great tool in our development.

•that being said I feel like predatory species like the yautja would find it fascinating to watch a human go from prey species to brutal predator in a matter of moments due to any given circumstances. Our instincts to danger are typically the five F’s. Fight, flight, freeze, fawn and faint. (For those of you who don’t know freeze is when you become unresponsive much like a deer in the headlight. Fawn is when you try to essentially suck up to the threat and get them to calm down and no longer be a threat. This is usually seen in abusive relationships where people will try to appease their abusor by avoiding conflict or doing whatever they can to get the abusor in a good mood again even at their own detriment. And faint is well.. faint lol.)

•Humans developed carrion stomachs due to our tendency to go after the largest strongest prey possible. We had so much meat we couldn’t eat it all and it would spoil. Our stomachs developed strong acids to kill bacteria in meat that has been sitting.

•humans are one of the only species on the planet to actively hunt the largest and strongest of any animal in a given herd/group. Which I think is something the yautja relate too.

•for humans this was out of necessity. The biggest animal provided the most food for our large social groups. We needed to provide the most food for our people. And our ability to kill from a distance and out do our prey in endurance allowed us to not have to worry about energy expenditure like big cats who hunt alone and need to conserve as much as possible thus hunting whatever is the easiest.

•we did this for so long that we developed predatory instincts. However at our core we still have prey instincts. Your yautja finds that cute. :)

•he is much larger, stronger and deadlier than you without armor and weapons. Sharp teeth and claws with a scaled hide and muscle structure that could knock over a bus is nothing to sneeze at. He absolutely adores the difference between the two of you. Your much smaller form with soft skin and tiny blunt teeth and nails is endearing. But this also makes him extra worried for you when you go hunting. He has to remember that humans are fine predators but only when they have someone else to rely on.

•humans are NOT meant to be alone. In virtually anything. Todays society will have you believe in toxic ideals like pulling yourself up by your boot straps and not needing to rely on anyone. But humans at their very core are meant to be in large deeply socially bonded groups. It takes a village to raise 1 human properly. And our society has forgotten that. Your yautja finds it deeply unsettling when he finds out that your culture is not as social as it seems from the outside looking in. With everyone living so close together and there being so many people in such small areas you’d think everyone would know everybody. But it couldn’t be further from the truth. Single parents and fear stricken neighbors run rampant in most of the cities. So when he sees you pack bonding with a roomba he takes it upon himself to be your best friend.

•that’s another thing. Humans are so social we pack bond with virtually anything. We crave intimacy so badly (not like that you pervs) that we will pack bond with ANYTHING. You name it. A dog? So common. A car? Strange to him but not uncommon for one to become at least a little attached to something important like that. A fuzzy noodle with googly eyes attached? It’s a worm on a string? Ok we’re getting you some help.

•your getting dragged to an oomanologist and he prescribes you a pet.

•your pet ate the worm on a string

•there were tears

•he’s secretly happy about it

•he actually tried to get rid of it several times. Garbage shoot? You walked in on him mid act. Burn it? The bastard wouldn’t even reach the fire because the string kept getting tangled to twigs and branches that hovered above it. A tall shelf? Well he found you sitting on top of the fridge like a gargoyle once so that was out of the question.

•your yautja regularly has to remember that he’s a lot bigger than you and you are so smol. His voice alone can startle you if your not expecting it! There goes the prey instincts again. Loud noises are not your friend that’s for sure.

•did you know that in alien vs predator they used tiger roar sound effects for the yautja roars? They actually do this in a lot of movies and it pisses me off especially when they attach it to things like mountain lions who literally can’t roar but that’s besides the point- anyway tiger roars are actually capable of STUNNING their prey. There’s something about the volume and frequency that actually temporarily stubs other creatures. If the yautja canonically roar similar to tigers and he accidentally stuns you OmG.

•so much purring

•he’s on his knees hugging you trying to make himself small.

•this dude cannot navigate your human home.

•he broke a dining room chair sitting in it

• he’s too big for the hallways without ducking and turning sideways partially sometimes.

•hand holding is so cute. Ur hands are just so tiny compared to his

•he does research on monkeys and sees how grooming is a very important social que and he connects this to humans. Unfortunately he didn’t think that humans were so prudish around nudity so when he just picked you up and threw you into a big tub he was NOT ready for those hands.

•predator instincts activate 🔫

•he almost drowned

•mildly scared of you

•your so small how are you that strong

•when y’all do get comfortable enough though he loves bath time :)

•scratches your little head with his claws (lightly) a lot

•plays with your hair a lot especially in the tub

•your self care routine becomes his care for human routine

•honestly? He fucking prides himself on how well taken care of you are. He flaunts you like you have a pedigree

• “my ooman is better than yours”

•que fight

•you become friends with the other human and while they’re fighting, you guys are sitting in the dirt playing games.

•they come back like ?? Hello? Did you not see us? WERE U EVEN WATCHING?

•you get mad at him? He went and got you new worms

•all the colors

•he has a worm for his ships dash. He chills. Sometimes you catch him playing with it

•I had more ideas but I forgot

#predator x human #predator x reader #yautja #predator #predator x you #predators #alien vs predator

[manusuchus]

World Tomistoma Day 2023

Although I find the concept of a "World Day of" generally stupid, I believe that on the matter of endangered species, it can be a very meaningful speaker.

Tomsen, a female T. schlegelii at BioParc Fuengirola (Spain)

Today, August 5th, an initiative of the Crocodile Specialist Group (CSG) together with the "Tomistoma Task Force" is trying to draw attention to this poorly known and misunderstood species.

For those of you who don't know this animal, Tomistoma schlegelii, commonly known as Malayan false gharial is a longirostrine crocodilian that inhabits forested freshwater lakes, slow-moving rivers and swamps of Peninsular Malaysia, Borneo, Sumatra and possibly Java, feeding on diverse prey (From invertebrates to monkeys, small deer, birds and reptiles, with fish constituting the bulk of its diet), and although it is not a particularly aggressive species, there are several records of attacks on humans, with at least one fatal confirmed.

Tomistoma schlegelii devouring a female proboscis monkey (Nasalis larvatus). Inspired by Galdikas et al. 1985 (Illustration made in 2022)

 It is characterized by a long narrow snout which blends gradually with the base of the head/skull. Two rows of very small, barely distinct post-occipital scutes. Nuchal scales continuous with dorsal scutes and are almost indistinguishable. They are generally brown in color, with dark bands, including blotches and bands on snout and jaws.

But what makes this species really interesting are two particularities : Its enormous size and its ínteresting taxonomic affinities:

a) Size: It is not uncommon for Tomistoma males to reach lengths of 4 m today, but skeletal remains (Mainly skulls) indicate that we could be (Although improbably) in the presence of one of the candidates for the largest crocodylian species in the world . 

In their 2008 study, R. & N. Whitaker noted that the longest skulls in the world belonged to Tomistoma (One at Munich Museum at 81.5 cm; another at the AMNH at 76.5 cm ...) with the British Museum specimen taking the lead with an incredible 84 cm (Leaving all other species behind).

However, observations made on Tomistomas in captivity at the Samut Prakarn Crocodile Farm (Bangkok) and on some wild specimens, determined that the HL:TL ratio was 1:6.4 for the species; and therefore, the British Museum specimen would have measured about 5.38 m in life, certainly a giant but far from the monstrous sizes of some salties (Crocodylus porosus). 

The British Museum specimen. George Craig © (In the second photo, you can compare the size with C. porosus and G. gangeticus large specimens)

b) Uncertain affinities: Tomistoma is the last survivor of an old lineage that originated about 40-50 mya ago. This has made many authors wonder: where does this species fit in the evolutionary tree of crocodylia? And well... it's complicated.

T. schlegelii has long been considered to be a member of the Crocodylidae ( Brochu 2003). Much of the analysis has focussed on skeletal attributes, often constrained that way to allow comparison with fossil material, but there is supporting evidence from soft anatomy as well (Frey et al. (1989) , Endo et al.(2002)...) 

But now begins the tricky part : Molecular analyses place Tomistoma as a Gavialid.

( White and Densmore 2001; Janke et al. 2005;McAliley et al. 2006, Roos et al. 2007; Man et al. 2011...) Although some of these studies have been criticized for their methodology, it is clear that it cannot be ignored that they all reach the same conclusion.

 Likewise, there are important discrepancies about the times and periods in which both families appear/diverge, so the debate is not yet definitely closed.

Tomistoma are considered vulnerable by the IUCN Red List, nonetheless, it remains possible that T. schlegelii may qualify as Endangered in the future due to ongoing habitat loss and degradation, particularly Malaysia, so this day is still important to spread the word about the species.

I have only been able to enjoy these animals live once, at the BioParc in Fuengirola, Málaga (Spain) where they keep a trio of three adult specimens: Two females (Montse and Tomsen) and a huge male (René, affectionately nicknamed "Pinocho"). This Zoo is the only one in Spain that houses Tomistomas and has achieved the titanic task of their reproduction in captivity.

René, the huge male at BioParc Fuengirola. Video by me.

#zoology #animals #reptiles #crocodiles #nature #crocodilians #wildlife #science #conservation #endangered species #endangered animals

[sonicasura]

Me: *sees AUs where if Transformers Animated Optimus and Black Arachnia switch places* Let me give you all something better.

First off Optimus' robot mode. His will be based on a drider, a mythological creature with a human top half and a spider lower body. Retains Autobot colors but with additional orange markings on the abdomen similar to a jumping spider in pattern.

Alt Mode? Goliath Birdeater aka the world's largest spider and a tarantula. These beauties right here! I like to mention Goliath Birdeaters are actually gentle giants who only bite when threatened and rarely eat birds.

Optimus is a BIG BOI particularly around 32 ft in size as he had some growing to do so his body could fully support this new frame. If you are wondering, yes he does molt like spiders. And Optimus also kept them as a morbid reminder that the bot is now a monster.

Yeah I forgot to mention the guy went into self exile. Instead of the behavior people usually portray Arachnus Prime, he's still a kind soul but now layered with self depreciation, loneliness and thinks 'monsters like him' don't deserve companionship. OP more likely to run away than chase someone off.

He ends up on Earth ten years before Megatron and made his own nest somewhere near Detroit. Optimus becomes a local cryptid akin to Big Foot on levels of popularity. The only proof people could gather is the tracks he leaves behind, empty punctured oil drums, or molt fragments.

Spider brain tends to go off where he tries to catch birds and other critters. Only casualties were a few deer alongside the realization Optimus can subsist on organics too. He shuts himself in whenever this new craving occurs as he rather not eat a human during a feral state.

The rapid rise in technological advances for Detroit later forces him to relocate within the sewer systems since his previous den faced absolute destruction. Feral episodes become more difficult to manage as Optimus resorted to fishing to satisfy himself. It takes awhile before things become normal for him.

Then a repair crew from Cybertron emerge lead by his dear friend, Elita-1. A blast from the past Optimus wished to never face again. Nor the Decepticon threat that will soon expose his existence.

Good luck Optimus as you'll need it.

#sonicasura #maccadam #transformers #transformers animated #transformers series #optimus #optimus prime #tfa optimus prime #tfa optimus #arachnus prime #fate swap #fate swap optimus #fate swap!optimus #spiders #tw spiders #insomnia fueled thoughts #back on my angst flavored bullshit

[thebusytypewriter]

Hail the Lamb, Resilient and Eternal

Here it is, the starting point of the Tri-God AU timeline! Many thanks to Jonnie @jonquilandlace my beloved for helping me out :D

You can also find this on AO3 if that suits you better.

CW: blood, gore, major character death (not permanent)

“MEDICS!”

All hell broke loose at the cry, startling every creature within the grounds into action. The aforementioned medics scrambled from their idle activities to meet a wide-eyed rabbit at the camp entrance, where they kept their benevolent leader from collapsing by holding them upright as best as they could.

The Lamb of prophecy, who seemed indestructible to the common folk, stood half limp in their support. Crimson blood flowed down their face from somewhere atop their wooly head, dripping onto both an equally-red cloak and the vegetation below. One eye was bruised deeply to the point of being swollen shut, while the other stared at the ground, cloudy and unfocused.

Truely, it was a rare sight to behold for their flock, and many panicked animals dropped what they were doing to either assist or observe.

In the small hut of a kitchen remained one deer, silver in color, who watched the events unfold with worry. Kaliaphra wasn’t one to act in such situations, lest she be in the way of the people whose skills mattered there. That wasn’t to say she was unskilled, just that she’d never belonged to the area of healing.

Instead, she stared with horrified intrigue, a half-finished fish dish already forgotten on the counter behind her.

“My Lamb!” exclaimed the head medic, an elderly turtle by the name of Zelva. “My Lamb, what happened? Can you speak? Please, say something if you are conscious!”

Despite her distance, Kaliaphra could tell that The Lamb didn’t respond based on the increased numbers of furrowed brows. More hurried words were exchanged between Zelva and her students, and the largest among them took their leader into their arms to carry them toward the healing tent. The Lamb’s limbs dangled limply as they did so.

Whatever had happened in Anura, it wasn’t good.

“Kali, your tuna’s burning.”

She startled, whirling back around to pull her skillet off the fire. “Hells, Theo! You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

The brown buck that entered the kitchen—Theanno, her cousin who might as well have been her brother—simply smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “At least you’d be seeing Death. Aside from the, um, burning, how’s it coming in here?”

“Slow,” she sighed, pulling out a cloth to wrap the burnt fish. “I was already having a difficult time staying on task, and then The Lamb returned, and… did you get a better look at them? How bad is it?”

He leaned back against the countertop adjacent to her. “Couldn’t have seen more than you just now. That was… a lot of blood coming from them, though. I wonder if the healers can patch them up.”

“Well, even if they cannot, our leader will return to us shortly after, right? Death favors them. They bear his Crown.”

“Yeah, but…”

Kaliaphra turned sharply toward her cousin with wide eyes. “‘But’? Theo, you cannot question the nature of the Lamb.”

“I’m not,” he insisted. “I’m just worried. We’ve never seen them so hurt, right, so what happens if we lose them? Do we just… go back to where we were before?”

“We should not be thinking about this.”

“It’s a real problem, Kali! We couldn’t stay here; the Bishops—”

With a loud metallic thunk, Kaliaphra slammed the still-warm skillet on the counter next to him. She stared up at Theanno there, at his stunned expression, and hissed, “The Bishops, of two there are remaining, cannot touch this place. I am not worried about it, and you should not be, either. Imagine if an elder heard you; they would think that you are dissenting.”

Calmly, solemnly, Theo raised one hand and extended a finger to lightly boop her on the nose. “I’m not dissenting. We’re under the Lamb’s protection, I know. I’m just… thinking out loud. I’ve gotta get back to the crops. You should see if the healers need lunch. That way, you can keep an eye on our Lamb.”

The tonal shift of their conversation threw Kali off-balance. “What—you—”

“Okayloveyoubyeeee!” In a torrent of a wave and a head pat, Theanno slipped back out of the hut, leaving her alone again.

He throws existential dread on me then leaves, she grumbled to herself. Now I have to check in on the Lamb.

She grabbed a few covered bowls from the storage crate—only berries would be properly stored there—and layered them on a tray, careful to balance each even as she lifted the tray. It wasn’t an unpracticed movement, given how she’d taken to serving dinner to her family before, well, being separated from them. If anything, it was comfortingly familiar.

Kaliaphra slipped out of the kitchen hut and crossed the grounds toward the infirmary tent. Many of her fellow cultists were still floating around the entrance, their tasks remaining unfinished in their hands, but they didn’t seem to care. They stared at the infirmary in deep concern and only scattered when she gently told them to shoo.

With a deep breath, she prepared to announce her entrance, but a scream cut her off.

She shouldered her way inside to assist and was met with a rather… frightening scene.

The circle of healers had taken a large step back from the cot, each raising their hands in some semblance of placation. Upon the cot, most worryingly, squatted the Lamb. Their eyes were wide with fear, and they had somehow managed to grab hold of a small and pointy stick.

“Get back!” the Lamb shrieked, waving their acquired stick like a dagger. (Instinct, perhaps?) “I won’t go with you, do you understand? I refuse to be sacrificed just because of some… some dumb prophecy!”

Confounded murmurs filled the space.

“Prophecy?”

“Sacrifice?”

“Have they forgotten the years of this establishment?”

“My Lamb,” Zelva said, playing up her comforting tone, “we are not here to bring you to the Bishops. You escaped from them, and you have unified us all here under the Red Crown. Do you… not remember?”

They stared up at her with the most dumbfounded expression Kali had ever seen on them. “I don’t know what in the hells you’re talking about. I was… on my way to scavenge when a group of robed individuals—” The Lamb glanced suspiciously about the tent, which contained several people fitting that description— “bounded me in chains to take me away to the Bishops. I don’t follow the Red Crown; I don’t follow anyone!”

There was something of a faint collective gasp among the group (which made sense, since the Lamb was essentially speaking heresy without realizing it).

“Zelva,” Kali murmured, setting her tray of berry bowls on a table, “what… happened to them?”

The old turtle sighed and dragged a hand down her face. “From what I could see before they began threatening us with a stick, there are signs of severe head trauma possibly originating from their most recent trip through Anura. They most certainly defeated the Bishop Heket, but I imagine something hit them before they made their escape.”

“Meaning…?”

“Amnesia. At least partially. They appear to have forgotten events after their execution, including the founding of this camp.”

“And the Red Crown?”

“At the moment, Filip is placing the Crown within the Temple.”

“The sermons?”

“Canceled until further notice.”

“The Bishops?”

“Will never know.”

“But—”

“Kaliaphra.” Zelva grabbed her by the shoulders. “We will ensure that the Bishops will never know. If they find out, our little camp here is done for. We have nothing to defend us. Please, remain diligent in your duties, and if anyone asks, the Lamb is injured and recovering.”

Kali looked between her and their now-sedated leader, who appeared as a small lamb for once instead of the grand holy being the cult knew them to be.

Or thought them to be.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded. “If you or anyone here needs anything, let me know. Or let Theanno know.”

Zelva visibly relaxed, a tired smile finding its way onto her face. “Of course. Thank you, dear. We will get through this together, under Death’s grace.”

“Yes, ma’am. Praise the Lamb.”

Sleep was difficult to wrangle that night, and the next, and the next.

Kaliaphra stared at the roof of her tent as she silently begged to fall into the sweet abyss, but her thoughts granted her no such relief. She was too busy thinking about the events of the previous days, about Theanno’s words and Zelva’s worry and the Lamb’s evident amnesia.

“We’ve never seen them so hurt, right, so what happens if we lose them?”

“We will ensure that the Bishops will never know. If they find out, our little camp here is done for. We have nothing to defend us.”

Granted, it had hardly been half a week since the Lamb returned, but with how fast word spread about the camp, Kali was certain that all of the Lamb’s followers would know soon. If doubt grew among them, flowering into dissent, it would only be a matter of time before someone left and crawled back to the Bishops.

The Lamb was not improving.

Someone had to do something.

They needed help of divine levels, and she wondered, if nothing else, whether the Lamb’s sacred Red Crown would have some form of solution, even a temporary one. She’d seen its power in action before, when the Lamb took command over their fields during the Heket-inflicted famine. Surely it had something, like a barrier to put up around the grounds.

The only question was whether someone had to wear the Crown—or maybe even be skilled with it—for it to do something. Only one way to find out, she supposed.

Kaliaphra pushed herself up from her bedroll and cautiously poked her head outside, letting the tent flaps continue to obscure her some. She appeared to be lucky in that all lanterns around the residential area of the camp were out, save for the infirmary, which was still a large enough distance away that it wasn’t a threat.

She went through a mental checklist of members, trying to discern who did and didn’t have one of those moon pendants the Lamb had offered. The only one that came to mind was a medic, who was no doubt in the infirmary.

Assuming no one was guarding the Crown—and why would they, when anyone in the cult hardly separated it from its bearer in terms of fear and respect—she had a straight shot.

As swiftly as possible, Kali made a sprint for the temple. She dared not go slower, even if it meant a lesser likelihood of stepping on something loud, since it would be way more likely for someone to wake up for a snack or to use the outhouse. All she had to do was slip in through the semi-ajar door (which she mentally thanked Filip for, even if it was unintentional) and close it behind herself, which went off without a hitch.

A dim temple greeted her, the only light coming from the ever-lit candles on either side of the lectern. It was just enough to provide some visibility, even if both Kali and Theanno had great night vision to begin with, but more specifically on the Red Crown sitting upon the altar.

It was odd, seeing the Crown not on the Lamb’s head. While the Lamb, in their state, seemed much smaller than usual, the Crown without the Lamb felt larger than it should. More imposing, even. Its singular red eye remained wide open, and though its glow had dimmed significantly, she had the feeling it was anything but dormant as it stared through her.

She almost wanted to tell it to blink.

Nevertheless, Kali swallowed her unease and strode forward down the aisle just as she had been for something close to twenty years, which might as well have been two years with the enchanted pendants the Lamb had gifted her and Theo. It came second nature; little light needed to guide her.

Though she had never been afraid of the dark, her fur stood on end as she noticed the feeling of being watched. By the Crown? Perhaps, but… not quite.

With a bowed head, she stepped up to the altar. Her heart raced with the panic of I should not be here, I should not be the one standing at the altar, but she tried her best to shove it down. What she was doing was important and could possibly save the cult from being wiped out.

Kaliaphra lowered herself to kneel in front of the altar, bending until she was just under eye-level with the Red Crown and folding her hands neatly upon her lap. “I am… unsure if I should be addressing Death here, as I am simply looking at the Crown without its bearer, so I will plead with both god and tool.”

If the Crown could look expectant, it did.

“I fear for the safety of these people,” she began, letting her eyes fall shut. “I have only ever been afraid like this when the Lamb brought me here for the first time. I doubted then. Over time, I have grown to trust them with my life. But they have fallen. Not in death, but I am afraid this is worse. If it were death, The One Who Waits would surely revive them. Instead, they cannot be helped outside of medical attention, and even that is a waiting game.

“If the Bishops find this place, all will be executed for heresy. What shall be done? I would sacrifice anything to make this right. I would give my own life. What is my life in comparison to the many other lives being lived here? It is but a speck of dust.” Kali paused for a moment, cracking one eye open to check if the Crown was still paying attention. (What a silly thought, she mused. The Red Crown is not sentient.)

Its singular red eye stared back at her, unblinking and unmoving.

Somehow, that was more discouraging.

She sighed. “We were taught that The One Who Waits does not answer prayer directly. He speaks through his vessel in miracles, but they are the one to hear our pleas. What is left when the vessel forgets that they are a vessel? What is left when a fawn who loves her family has to leave them behind? Theanno… he is all I have of them here. I promised him that he would be safe in this place, under the Lamb.”

A growing desperation bubbled in her chest with each passing thought, and Kaliaphra found herself crawling forward to grasp the altar and stare into the Crown’s eye directly as her vision blurred. “Please, do you not understand how hopeless this is? I do not ask for much if you do not wish to give it, but the situation must be remedied! Tell me what I have to do! Help me!”

The plea rang out through the temple, bouncing off the walls again and again until it faded.

The Red Crown did nothing.

Bitterly, she had the passing thought that a no would’ve hurt less than this.

Kaliaphra pushed herself up to stand over the Crown upon the altar, wiping the few stray tears that had fallen. “…Foolish. I do not know why I thought Death would listen to one little follower, anyway. It was worth a—”

In a flash, a literal flash of red, the sacred artifact shifted forms.

No longer did she see the Red Crown as a crown, or at least not a full crown; the pointed tips of its top stretched and wrapped around and around each other to a point, leaving it in a vague lance shape in the span of milliseconds.

That is, she was only somewhat sure it came to a point. The end of the Crown was out of her view, even as she followed it from the altar closer to her and—

Through her chest.

Through her heart.

Out her back.

That was when she registered two things a second too late. One, the deafening squelch and crack of flesh and bone being driven through by, well, Crown. Two, the burning pain that felt more like a stream of red hot fire than a blade.

Kaliaphra screamed, agony tearing through her throat.

There was a fleeting thought that she just woke up the entire camp, but it was drowned by growing panic accompanied by the taste of iron in her mouth. Her throat was closing, but was it due to the blood, or was she in shock? Shit, she didn’t know enough about medicine to tell.

What she did know was that she was going to die.

She had asked to help her be rid of the situation.

Was this a sick joke?

Was it mercy?

To be put out of her misery?

Her hooves scraped weakly at the floor beneath her, the Crown’s sharp blade holding her just aloft with surprising strength—as if she weighed nothing to it. As she struggled to catch her breath, choking on it instead, a strangled bleat pulled itself from her in some desperate attempt to call for Theanno.

The Red Crown retracted then, its lance shape ripping from her chest and dropping her onto the wooden floor. Kaliaphra’s vision was flickering then, and a horrific numbness began to settle in. The floor grew wet beneath her, and she felt it pooling around her fingertips and ear as she lay discarded on her side.

What… did I do wrong?

A distant muffled bleat was the last thing she heard.

Then there was nothing.

When her eyes opened, Kaliaphra was blinded with white.

Given how dark the temple had just been, the change of brightness was undesirable. The sky above her was far too bright, and the ground beneath her was far too soft. Fluffy, almost.

Odd.

She turned her head to get a better look and was greeted not with a wooden floor, but with what appeared to be… clouds.

A discomfort upon her chest suddenly became apparent to her, both crushing and sharp, two different sensations. Images flashed through her memory. The eye, the blade, the blood.

The weighted sensation, she realized, was likely her stopped heart.

Kali moved to sit up, knocking something sitting on her chest onto her lap instead. When she looked down, she was greeted with the unblinking stare of the Red Crown.

“You,” she murmured, afraid of her voice carrying through the expanse. “What… did you do?”

There was no response, which had to be the most normal thing in the situation. It was still enough that one wouldn’t have known how it morphed to stab her only moments ago.

Kaliaphra huffed through her nose with growing annoyance. “Some help you are. Perhaps if I simply stay here and do not move, do not interact with anything, I will wake up from this nightmare. The Lamb will be fine, everyone will be safe, and everything will be as it should.”

“I know you’re there.”

A deep, rumbling voice reverberated around her, startling her and sending some of the clouds scattering. Kali looked up from her lap to fully survey her surroundings, and she took notice of a distant but massive figure bound in chains among the clouds. The image was familiar, one that the Lamb had explained vaguely to their flock from their times of indoctrination. Death had an incredibly recognizable appearance, all things considered.

She swallowed hard, a pit opening in her stomach.

The distance and the veil made it impossible for her to see his face, but she somehow knew that The One Who Waits was looking directly at her. “Come closer, little fawn,” the tall cat bishop purred. “In death, you will be of use to me.”

Kali looked back down at the Crown.

It looked back at her, and she’d almost expected it to give a meaningful glance toward said bishop. A go on gesture, in a sense. But it gave no such answer.

Once again, incredibly helpful.

She lifted the Crown from its place on her lap and pushed herself up, instinctively brushing off her tunic as if rising from the dirt instead. (It was silly, she acknowledged, but at least it could give her the appearance of being put together.)

Kaliaphra strode forward on shaking legs through the parting clouds. If she was to meet her god, she needed to be calm and collected, but her tight grip on the Crown did nothing to help.

As she grew closer, she noticed the two smaller cats kneeling on either side of the god. Their fur was a deep gray—not quite black—and their matching pairs of crimson eyes remained solely on her as she approached. The one on Death’s right donned black and red robes, while the one on his left had white robes. Both wore veils like their master, though theirs were slightly more transparent, hence why she could meet their intense stares.

She felt more like an intruder within their space. Her gaze snapped once again to the being in the middle, though she dared not look him in the eye, instead settling for the clouds at his feet.

The sound of her footsteps changed from soft pompfs of air to hooves on stone as she stepped onto a small circular platform painted with a pentagram, and she figured that was a good place to pause. Kali dipped low into a curtsey, one she had perfected during her time under the Bishop Shamura, but said nothing. The common rule within the Silk Cradle was do not speak unless spoken to.

Given how she was standing before Death, she didn’t feel like testing the limits with other gods.

“Polite little thing,” said The One Who Waits, finally. “What a refreshing change of pace. Stand, little fawn, and let me see you.”

Without a second thought, she complied, raising her gaze enough to find the bottom edge of his veil.

“How peculiar that you would enter my domain with my Crown in your hands. I entrusted that Crown to The Lamb. How is it, then, that you hold it, mere follower?”

Despite having little-to-no control over that exact situation, Kali stuttered, “I mean no disrespect by it, my lord! The Lamb is—”

He held up one skeletal hand to stop her. “I am well aware of what has befallen my vessel. It is… inconvenient, to say the least. Since The Lamb is neither dead nor dying, I can do nothing to assist. Truly a setback.” Jagged teeth became more visible as the corners of his mouth curled upward. “But no matter. You worry for the safety of your flock, do you not? That is why you volunteered your life.”

Kaliaphra bit her lip anxiously for a moment. She did offer her life to the Crown in panic, didn’t she? While she certainly didn’t expect to stand before The One Who Waits in order to fulfill that statement, there really were only so many ways such an offer would come to fruition. “What… What would you have me do, my lord? I am just a deserter who can only somewhat mince fish and cauliflower.”

“Ah… but you can brandish a knife, then?” The God of Death inclined his head in what she faintly recognized to be a patronizing manner. “While you may not believe it, that is more than The Lamb could say when they first appeared before me. Rejoice in your abilities, for they will save your hide in battle.”

“B-Battle, my lord?”

She swore she saw the cat at his right snicker from her question.

“Battle,” he repeated. “Despite the façade you put on, I know you are familiar with it. I have seen you cut down many an enemy during your time as a soldier trainee.”

Ah, damn it. “Oh, I, uh—“

“And yet you lie to my face.” The ever-present grin dropped abruptly. “Fear lingers in you despite your experience, Kaliaphra. I will be merciful just this once.”

Kali’s breath hitched as terror took its choking hold on her. He knew her name. He knew her by name. “Forgive me, please! I would have been upfront about it, but… it has been some time since I fought last.”

The One Who Waits waved a hand. “It has become instinct for you, nonetheless, one that you will utilize while you bear the Crown.”

It was like ice had been dumped over her. She dared to meet his gaze, finally. “…My lord?”

“A temporary vessel,” he clarified, his wide smile of sharp teeth returning. “You shall take on the duties of the Lamb until they can return once more. Tend to the flock. Venture forth on crusades. Spread faith and influence. Slay my traitorous siblings. That is for which you have volunteered your life.”

She stared up at him, up at the gleeful unblinking trio of red eyes behind a veil, and found no trace of humor. No ounce of empathy. The One Who Waits was placing her in the position of leader against her will. If she should decline…

One clawed hand, belonging to the white-robed cat in white on Death’s left, twitched as if he’d heard her thought.

Ah. She couldn’t.

To decline meant death. No doubt it would be an insult to the bishop himself. She had no other option.

“It will not be for an eternity,” The One Who Waits purred, “that much I can swear with the assumption that my vessel recovers. Should they not, your position will become a permanent one. Do we have an understanding, fawn?”

As much as she wanted to do otherwise, Kaliaphra lowered herself back into a deep curtsy. “Y…Yes, my lord. I will do everything in my power to serve you.”

“Good. Do not disappoint me. Unlike the Lamb, you are incredibly replaceable.”

The pentagram lit up beneath her feet, and her soul left the Below with a new weighing dread upon it.

Kaliaphra propped herself up with one arm and promptly vomited onto the floor next to the altar.

Her chest ached, not with the pain of the fatal wound but with anxiety and horror. She was faintly aware that she had, in fact, returned to the living world, but she was waiting for the pounding of her heart to cease before fully taking stock.

Was she dreaming? Surely, she had been dreaming. In her panic to do something about the Lamb’s situation, she had run into the temple and… hit her head. Passed out. That was the only logical option. Or, better yet, all of that was a dream, too; she’d eaten some wild mushrooms by mistake and had a wild dream as a result.

…Why did her head feel so heavy?

Something, some form of light, reflected off of the polished quartz altar, startling Kali. As she turned her head back to further investigate, the colored light reflected again—red. Once she sat still, the steady red glow remained… just above her head, if the silhouette was anything to go by. Was that…

She raised one hand up to grab it, but the crash of the temple doors startled her into dropping her hand and pushing herself onto her feet.

“Kaliaphra,” came the clipped voice of Zelva as she led what looked like the entire cult into the room. “What on earth is—Are you wearing the Red Crown?”

Her eyes ran over the assembling crowd, already trying to think of a way out of facing them yet. Was there one, though? Was it right to wait, if this was in fact really happening? Was there even a way for her to answer without looking like a fool? “Y…Yes, I am.”

The old turtle scoffed incredulously. “Stars above, no one should be touching it but the Lamb. And—is that… blood? Vomit? Child, are you drunk?”

“No!” she snapped back, the weight of the eyes on her immensely present. “I am not drunk. I… I have…” 

But she trailed off, uncertain how exactly to explain the situation. Kali’s eyes skimmed the assembled followers, searching desperately for reassurance, for familiarity, for her cousin’s eyes among colleagues, friends, acquaintances, accusers. 

In the doorway, familiar horns just barely fit in the doorway. 

She held her breath, a long moment, then began again. “I have spoken to The One Who Waits. It appears that he has placed me in the Lamb’s position until they recover. And I know that sounds insane, but…” She looked down at herself, reaching up to run her fingers over the tender flesh where her impalement wound had been. The skin there was still agitated and raw, like a fresh scar had just formed. “I died, I believe. That was the commotion you heard. If you will just—”

“A’right,” huffed Chifre, the rhinoceros in charge of behavior enforcement, as he stepped through the crowd toward her. “Take the Crown off, c’mon.”

Anxiety flipped to annoyance in just a moment, and she straightened her spine stubbornly. “I cannot. I now have a duty to uphold, it seems.”

“No, you don’t. Take it off, or I’ll take it myself. Playtime’s over, kid.”

“I am not a child!”

Her voice boomed through the space, and she would’ve taken notice of how it split apart if it weren’t for the flash of bright red, almost like lightning, that illuminated it all. The light seemed to startle the crowd more than her, as they all scrambled back several feet from the altar, eyes blown wide.

They… weren’t looking at her.

Kaliaphra turned, slowly, and looked up to the front wall of the temple.

Over the wood and stained glass, there resided a massive shadow, one of distinct silhouette, stretching across the pulpit floor to the wall and traveling up to touch the ceiling. The body, with its tall feline ears and glowing trio of eyes, was incredibly familiar to Kali herself. Its limbs, clearly defined as skeletal and crude, extended over the walls and arched across the temple floor. There, the claws of bone hovered around the place where the deer stood, as if claiming her—his plaything, perhaps.

Separate from the shadow, Kaliaphra was graced with the whisper of feeling bone brush her cheek. It was a distant mockery of sentiment, but it made her heart leap into her throat all the same.

“Stand tall, my vessel,” the voice of The One Who Waits purred into her ear. “They will learn to fear you in time.”

Then, with another flash of red light, it was all gone. Kali and the others were left standing in an empty temple, shellshocked at what had just occurred.

They stared at her, no longer annoyed, but hesitant. As if they didn’t know what to do.

Across the crowd, Kaliaphra’s gaze finally found her cousin’s, meeting eyes wide in something between awe and terror. He ran his gaze over her form, inspecting her, she thought, hesitating on the blood stain on her shirt, then the glowing crown, and then back to meet her eyes in turn, looking for something, the same safety they’d promised one another for years.

Then, finding it, whatever he was looking for, his expression calmed, pride replacing the fear as a grin stretched over his cheeks. He bent his knee, head still raised, unwilling to break her gaze, yet folding over nevertheless.

A bow, she realized. He is bowing. To… to me?

“My Fawn,” Theanno called.

The followers nearest to him looked back, murmurs rippling through them, noises and expressions flickering wildly between surprise and… uncertainty, perhaps, before looking back to the crown that now rested on her brow. 

Then, with the same subtle confidence, one follower after another bent at the knee, their gazes turning to the ground. 

“My Fawn.”

“My Fawn.”

“My Fawn!”

#Tri-God AU #cult of the lamb #salem's works #oc: kaliaphra #oc: theanno #<- he's jonnie's btw #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl #cotl follower oc #follower oc #cotl the one who waits #cotl toww #cult of the lamb au #cotl au #dear lord there are so many variations of the same tags #cw blood #cw gore #cw major character death #stares into the camera. why didn't i just call this the lambnesia au

[androgynousblackbox]

Dead Main Course. 3 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

Alastor didn't dream a lot, but when he did he remembered it just as clearly as if he had actually lived it. For other people they might have been considered nightmares worth forgetting about.

The usual setting was a forest. He had no idea why, he had never spent a significant amount of time in one to get attached like that. No more than the occasional convenient burying place for some of his meals. 

It started out with Alastor walking alone on the afternoon, sometimes dancing for his own pleasure to no music, sometimes just walking. In the dream he wasn't consciously looking for anything, but something always end up catching his attention. It was only after they did that he realized that he was naked at all. He was never embarrassed about it. Animals on the wild were always naked after all.

A deer was the usual target. But other times it had been other prey animals, sometimes even other predators like mountain lions and those were the largest dreams because it implied a bit of a fight. They always ended up noticing him looking at them from a distance. From there to them understanding the danger they were in it usually took merely seconds. Sometimes they stayed there just to get in a defensive position if they thought there was a fighting chance, but he frankly liked it a lot more when they just started to run to try to put the biggest distance that they could between them. Nothing like a good run in order to get his appetite fully awakened.

The night before his first day at his new job, Alastor was enjoying seeing the starry night through the cup of the tallest trees when he heard a twig cracking under his feet near his position. His head wasn't tied to his biological limitations in reality, so he turned around completely without moving anything else on his body, like an owl, to scan the area for the offending presence. 

There it was, just at his back where it had tried to take him by surprise, was a giant gray wolf. Alastor had never seen one in real life, but he just knew that they normally didn't raise as high for an adult man to be at eye level with them. In the dream, his stomach gave out a resounding growl that made the ears of the wolf stand out and lower the head as he prepared to either pounce or react. 

Alastor calmly turned around with a smile on his face. Oh, this hunt was going to be fun, he could tell. For a moment neither one of them was doing anything. Only when the tail of the wolf moved slightly did Alastor take that as a sign to start moving himself. 

Giant wolf or not, once he gave chase, he was always the biggest beast present. No matter the animal that presented itself, they were always a meal to enjoy. The wolf lowered his head a moment, the ears laying flat on his head before he also got in motion to get away. Alastor used his elongated arms as another pair of legs, feeling the dirt, rocks and grass underneath his new claws just as clearly as beneath his feet, that weren't feet anymore but hooves. 

His mouth was permanently stuck on a wider smile that showed off all the big and sharp teeth that he knew would make it an absolute joy to tear into a live prey. But the wolf had little interest in appreciating his transformation as it was running away, moving between the trees as if to disorient him or tire him up. A noble attempt that was bound to be fruitless as Alastor was coming closer.

Suddenly the trees opened up and the wolf was running through a clear area, illuminated by a full moon that sparkled in his terrified eyes as Alastor picked him up by the torso. Even when being held like that, the wolf tried to shake him off by moving like a violent eel or trying to bite him first. It was certainly becoming harder to keep up in the air, so Aastor had no choice but to put him against the ground, covering the muzzle with his whole hand while he directed his teeth to the mouth.

Things like hair never bothered him in his dream. A delicious howling calling to no one was the last sound that the wolf man as Alastor bite again, again, again, again, the blood and meat and scrapping of the bone being absolutely cathartic he could barely contain himself to actually enjoy it instead of devouring it whole as he knew he could.

It was when he was sinking his teeth into one of the front legs and tearing apart that his ears on top of his head moved behind him, altered by something. It wasn't any specific sound as much as the sudden awareness that someone was looking at him. Breaking the bone of the leg on his mouth, Alastor turned to see a gray figure, made of shadow and moonlight standing right there. 

That was strange. In what moment did he let that one pass by him? How long has it been there? Has it been following him all along and only approached further while he was eating? All these questions came and went through his mind as he tilted his head. The figure standing there started getting closer, a foolish action certainly, or maybe not so because Alastor just had to keep starring.  

The figure surrounded him until he was in front of him, in front of the dead wolf and kneeled in front of him, petting the pelt. Was that compassion or just mere curiosity? Maybe this little one was lost and was stupid enough that it didn't know the danger in which he was in? 

For some reason Alastor knew that at least he was free from fearing the figure. Nothing about it activated his own senses that he was about to be attacked. And yet, he couldn't really relax. Nobody had ever accompanied him during any other of his feasts. It had always been just him and his kill, a truly intimate act that never had any witnesses before. 

He started to wonder if the figure understood what it meant. Some beings could be so intrinsically innocent that concepts like life and death were foreign for them. The way the figure kept brushing their fingers against the bleeding wolf was making him wonder if they could be one of those. They just seemed entranced admiring the beauty of the fallen creature. 

Alastor sat too in front of them. Had they forgotten about him already? The thought surprised him with how quickly it was making him angry. He was the biggest monster in that entire forest, he could devour the figure just as easily as a grape cut from its vine, and he wasn't paying attention to him? Now that was some audacity if he ever saw it!

The figure seemed completely oblivious to how much their presence was affecting him as their hands went down the wolf stomach. At first it looked like just more petting over the corpse, but then the figure ripped the skin open and shoved what had to be their hand inside the body. After some time searching finally came out with the heart of the wolf. The heart itself was even bigger than the hand itself, keeping it there was a work of equilibrium more than strength. The blood was dripping into the grass, even more so when the figure extended it towards him.

Alastor's ear straightened up when realizing what was happening. After years and years of peaceful hunting, finally someone was feeding him. Alastor didn't even hesitate to open his mouth, wondering maybe a little too late if maybe there was a risk that could end up eating the figure just as well.

Just as his teeth were about to come down over the meal, the alarm woke him up.

Alastor instantly rose up from his bed, still blinking in the darkness of his room, despite it being already the hours of the morning just as his cellphone was telling him. What a curious dream, thought to himself as he stand up to get the bathroom. He continued to thought about it as he took a shower and especially as he started shaving. He had never in his life have ever cut himself realizing such a mundane part of his routine, but a part of him was curious about what would happen if he did. If he let the razor break out the skin just beneath his jaw and let the blood slip out. Who was going to be there to truly appreciate it and feed it to him back? Then he wondered why did he even cared about that.

It was an interesting thought experiment, if nothing else. 

He got dressed, took a modest breakfast in his kitchen while listening to the news from mom's radio and came out of his small apartment in direction to his new job. The restaurant had changed very little since the last time he was there, only filled with more details in golden that reinforced even more the holy aesthetic that it was going for. At the center of every table there was a napkin folded to look like angels and the tree of temptation had a lot more red ribbons as decoration. Everything looked expensive, almost garish but not too much. 

Alastor met with the Manager Chef, the one in charge of fixing everyone's schedule and apparently too the one in charge to present him with all his coworkers, including the waiters that were going to deliver the meals. Alastor smiled and shook hands with everyone, retaining their names and faces for just a moment before he dropped them again for lack of interest. None of them were Lucifer. Where the hell was him?

The one thing he did took notice it was their uniforms. All the chef dressed up in red with white details that he already saw, but now they all had added an embroidery apple surrounded by a golden snake. Meanwhile all the waiters were dressed with soft blue vests on top of white shirts and black bow ties to finish them. He was trying to understand what was the idea behind that choice. Devils serving angels? Because... in the kitchen was hot like hell?

For fuck's sake, just how far deep his own ass could a man get to have such pretentious ideas on his head? 

"Your own uniform should be on your locker" said the Manager Chef, whose name he had already completely forgotten. Still-Not-Lucifer took him to the back of the kitchen, towards another door to a large hallway. Since the public was never going to see it, nobody bothered to decorate it so it was a neutral gray the whole way through. The man was pointing out to each door, explaining briefly the purpose of every one. "That is the backdoor where we receive the food from our providers. You enter through the alley on the right. I know that we are all starting so for today it's fine, but in the future it's better to enter through here. Right over there is the bathroom and in the other room a shower in case you really need it. That is the break room where the schedules of everyone will be up each morning. If you ever need to take a day off, you consult with me, alright? I have the phone numbers of everyone so I will send you a message later so you can add, in case we suddenly need more staff."

"I understand, of course" said Alastor, nodding along at the same time he was also tuning out.

Finally they reached out to some double doors that were wide open. It was exactly the same as any changing room that Alastor had seen before, possibly even more dull than any, with the notable difference that Lucifer was in front of his own locker, fixing up his coat. Somehow that made the entire room a lot more interesting.

"Ah, there you were!" said the Manager, reaching out hand in front to shake Lucifer's. "I was giving the tour to Alastor. You know him already, right?"

Alastor realized he was frozen in place only when he had to move in order to greet Lucifer. He looked absolutely splendid even when seemingly dragging a bit of sleep from the bed still, giving out a placid smile that did nothing to hide his baggy eyes. Was Lucifer just not a morning person? Maybe the nerves of his first day didn't let him sleep as well as he could last night? Alastor wondered more on that as he felt against the firm grasp of Lucifer on him.

"Yes, I was the one to talk my father into considering you," said Lucifer, simulating a yawn behind his hand, and completely not aware at the jump that Alastor's heart made inside his chest. "Sorry, I am just a bit tired. I will splash some water on my face and I will be good as new."

"You better, Lu, we don't want to give a bad impression on our first day! We need our heavenly graduate up and running" said the Manager, patting the shoulder of Lucifer, who just made a dismissive hand wave in response to the contact. 

"What are you saying? It will be perfect, just you wait and see" said Lucifer with a lazy smile.

Alastor stared at the space between the two of them, doing his best effort to control the twitching he could feel on his eye. Just how chummy did those two were? Was that any way to handle a professional environment? 

Just stop touching him, you fucking creep.

By some miracle or because somehow he heard him, the Manager did stop rubbing his grubby hands all over Lucifer's shoulder and pointed to the locker at the far end of the line. 

"Alastor Abbadon, this is yours!" announced the man. "The uniform should be your size according to what you told us, but if you need an adjustment or anything you can tell me and I will see how to fix it."

While taking not a small portion of his salary, finished Alastor for him, making it clear he understood.

"Well, better get ready now! We will be opening in half an hour. The boss hired a bunch of critics and some press to cover for the restaurant. If any camera ends up pointing in your direction, don't worry and don't pay them any mind. If anyone is going to speak, that is probably going to be either me or Lucifer."

"Yay, yuhu! Can't wait!" commented Lucifer, bumping the air with a less than enthusiastic fist.

"Not a fan of the press?" asked Alastor, ignoring the frown on the Manager.

"Me? Oh, no, I totally love having bright lights pointing at my face and supporting the future of this restaurant while giving the same speech I already had to repeat three times for five different magazines' ' Lucifer shrugged and smiled indulgently, arching an eyebrow. "What can I say? Dad made a real gambling with this place so I need to help him. Expanding to a whole new market is a entirely different kind of challenge."

Was that part of the speech as well?, wondered Alastor.

"Exactly, which is why you will do an excellent job" commented the Manager, grabbing the face of Lucifer to pat his cheek. Alastor really wished that look could actually kill instead of just giving him a place to imagine his knife coming in and out over and over again. "What was all of that media training for if not, right?"

"Right, right" Lucifer laughed softly, giving the old man a light pat before moving them away from his face. "You know I am just kidding. Like I said, I just need a refresher and I will be peachier than a peach.

The Chef Manager seemed satisfied with that. He nodded to Lucifer and turned to Alastor to pat his shoulder now, making him have a full body shudder that the man consciously or unconsciously ignored. But not Lucifer.

"Half hour!" finalized the man, finally leaving them alone.

Fortunately, Alastor didn't have to be the one to break the silence.

"Not a fan of touching?" asked Lucifer with a slight smile.

"Not generally, no" Alastor opened up the locker with the key that was already hanging from it. 

The space was empty, of course, except for the new chef coat that was the exact same as the other chefs, alongside some black pants. 

"Oh, well, then you are out of luck" Lucifer said, pulling out a brush to finally start fixing his hair on the pull back style that he clearly found the best for his job. "You wouldn't know it because of his British accent, but the chef is Italian and you know how touchy feely they can get."

"I noticed '' Although he still thought it annoying, did calm a bit knowing the guy was just like that in general instead of being a special privilege to share with the blonde.

He didn't bother to add that he was in fact perfectly okay with touching if it came from his closest friends. 

While Lucifer was busy fixing himself, Alastor pondered if he would mind it too much if Lucifer did come in contact with him in such a carefree way. Not immediately, of course, no fucking way, but maybe? In the future?

The hope behind that stupid idea irritated him profoundly. God, was his head going to be filled with such nonsense from now on? How did normal people live like that?

How did they make it stop?

"So you talked with your father to have me on board?" He asked with the intention of distracting himself too.

"Oh, well, I didn't mean to make it sound like he needed a lot of convincing. Sorry if it came out that way" Alastor didn't even think about it, but didn't correct him either. It was kinda cute seeing him get a slight blush thinking he did speak out more than he should. Bad idea to start a career offending the man that was going to rule a kitchen at his side. "My father had a pretty good impression of you already. I know I wasn't there for the start of the interview, but I did really like what I saw. Most of the other candidates were... uh... how do I say it..."

"Pompous pretentious assholes without a fiber of real creativity on their bones?" helped out Alastor, his smile only getting bigger when Lucifer twisted a corner of his mouth in annoyance.

"I wouldn't have said it with those words because that is extremely unprofessional," pointed out the man, probably more out of principle than anything else. 

"Of course."

"But yes, essentially. For what father also told me, I could only really see me working with you, if I am honest."

Alastor turned around to pretend he was accommodating the neck of his coat, so Lucifer wouldn't even notice by chance the happiness that spread across his face.

"With those other guys I thought it was going to be impossible. I would be concerned about them stabbing me at the first chance they got. So I told my dad that and now you are here" continued the man, looking at his image on the small mirror glue to his locker. 

Alastor also threw a subtle glance in his direction. Deciding to recognize perfection for what it was, Lucifer finally closed his locker and went to the washroom area. 

Nobody had pointed to the small room for more private changing, but Alastor went there to take out his pants and put on the new ones. When he came out again, finding the uniform fitted him just as well as he could expect, Lucifer had already moved on. 

He sprayed some water on his own face, bracing himself to pull out his best poker face no matter what. All his previous bosses would have nothing but praise for his performance. So agreeable, so reliable, quick thinking to solve any issues. He wasn't going to let some silly stupid... whatever get on his way to get up on the ladder. He still had not a clear idea of how he was going to do it with this particular one and the son of the owner right at the top, but he would come out with something. He always did.

So he was going to be just the chef he could be and not sigh like an idiot teenager just because this was the first time he found himself in such a situation. Adaptability was also a crucial skill to develop in a kitchen, and Alastor was nothing but skillful.

Nodding to himself, Alastor went to see his first day. 

The money of the Morningstar had truly secured them a bunch of new customers. Since the moment the front doors opened up, they didn't stop coming in until almost every table was full.

Alastor was a bit impressed to see some food critics that he knew were very strict on their reviews and chose their target with the full intention of tearing them apart. Either Morningstar had already paid them a more than generous amount to say something positive or the man's ego was so monumental that he couldn't even imagine a future in which his new restaurant wasn't a hit. He couldn't couldn't tell which was more likely, but couldn't say he complained too much. 

If he had paid, then it was only more positive advertisement. If he didn't, then there was nothing to worry about either because he was there. 

They had sent him the final menu decided by his request and he had practiced all the dishes, from the most complex to the simplest one, back at home so he would know exactly what to do and what to fix if something came out right. As Morningstar had said, Lucifer was quickly more in charge of the sweet side while Alastor took care of the savory meals. The times where they almost reached to taste the same pot or for the same plate, Lucifer was always the first to nod and turn away, trusting that he would know what to do. He was hired for that, didn't he? 

As the Chef Manager had said, at some point during the morning some reporters came in, one even with a filming crew behind them. They were preparing the equipment and lights when Lucifer was called over, just as he was drying up his hands.

"Showtime" commented, letting out some air through his nose, and smiled brightly, so beautiful that the bags under his eyes could go completely unnoticed unless someone was really paying attention. Once he finished, he turned to Alastor with his hand raised up and stopped before actually touching him. "Alastor, you can take care of things here, right?"

Alastor looked at that hand, lamenting a bit that the chef was learning his boundaries already. He would have liked to know if he could tolerate his contact or it would be the same as with the majority of people, just a total rejection from his body that he had very little say on. But that would have to be a question for another day.

"Absolutely. Go and don't forget to talk as good about us as you can."

"I was going to do that anyway" said Lucifer and got closer. Alastor was literally on the way to the exit to the main area, so he thought at first that Lucifer was just going there. The reaction on his chest was just as unwanted as expected, and did not help him at all when Lucifer actually added in a whisper. "You are doing great, by the way. I knew we would work well."

Alastor tried to find something to say, something that said he already knew how amazing he was, but his throat, his brain or something inside was malfunctioning because his mind literally went blank with the compliment. Lucky for him, Lucifer didn't mind as he continued on his way to speak with the reporters. Alastor took the chance to turn his head in his direction and catch a swift of his aroma. A cologne he almost thought he could recognize and the clean soft smell of aftershave. Yes, of course. A man like Lucifer would use something like that.

If only he could stay closer to him for longer, then maybe he could also identify the cologne for future reference. Maybe even imagine the flavor of it on top of his skin. Why he wanted to do that in the first place wasn't a question worth asking in front of the prospect of having that opportunity.

"Very well, everyone!" said to the other chefs. This was the first time that he had the entire power of a kitchen at this disposition and he had to appreciate that at the very least. "Lucifer is going to be busy for a bit, but I still need you all on your best behavior. I see some pans that have been left unattended since the last order. I want to see all the stations spotless."

"Yes, chef!" was the general voice from the group, while two of the chefs went out to the dishwasher and the others got back to their respective plates.

Since Morningstar wanted an open kitchen, they could very well still see all of their customers enjoying their meals just as much as they could see them doing them. In the moments in which they had nothing to prepare yet because everyone was already eating, it was hard to resist observe the reaction of the public to their labor. The chefs that weren't occupied leaned on chairs or against a counter, elevating their heads as if that way they could get a better idea of what was happening.

Alastor managed to see some of the food critics taking notes on their phones or a generally pleasant environment before he just lost interest. He knew every plate had come out perfect already, he didn't need the approval. It was good for the soul, but at that moment wasn't the thing he was more interested about.

Lucifer was talking with the reporter as if they were actually just conducting a conversation. Either because of the kind of father he had, his brief career as a model or for his own selfish interest, it was pretty clear that Lucifer was perfectly comfortable in front of the camera. Alastor couldn't hear a single word of what they were saying, but he had not noticed once that Lucifer stammered or had any doubt about his words. Sometimes the blonde would make a gesture just to emphasize something, back again to smile and incline his head ever so slightly to hear what the reporter was asking him, his eyebrows elevated in interest. 

All his movements looked so graceful on their control that it made him question if Lucifer could have been a dancer too. But he had not seen him walk enough to know that for sure. He made a mental note to start paying attention to that... and then said to himself he was an idiot. Why did he even care?

Well, no, he knew why. He still didn't like the answer.

Perhaps it would just fade away eventually. He couldn't imagine that most people did anything about having such feelings for almost perfect strangers that met just two times already. Surely a lot of times "that" just went nowhere and never caused any issue for anyone if silenced enough. If a person just learned to keep it to themselves, just as they had done during their entire lives before that point, then surely everything would end up just fine. 

Alright, Lucifer was attractive. That much could be admitted because that was just an objective fact. Apparently the secret to waking up that kind of experience for him had been a tiny blonde all along, who knew. 

So what? He could take that to the grave with him. There were lots of things he hoped to take to the grave with him and as long as he had any say on it, he would do it. This was going to be no different at all. If there was a god, then he knew very well that he didn't need the extra stress on his life.

A little glance from time to time wouldn't hurt, of course. It's only natural to admire beautiful things when they are nearby. He wasn't about to rip his eyes out to pretend otherwise. But that was about it. Just a glance at a distance, a bit of a respectful admiration.

And of course they had to talk with each other, that was just inevitable. They were working together, they were both the heads of the kitchen and unlike hydras, if they cut one of the heads a new one wasn't just about to spawn from the severed neck. So they had to get along. Keep it professional and amicable. Especially with the whole being the son of the owner. You don't want to seem to close off and burn that bridge, not if you don't have a new one able to replace it at the ready.

Maybe gather some data that he could use to try to lazily plan his ruin so he could be the only chef standing. That seemed like a necessary enough step too. It would give him a little imaginary hobby, something to think about besides the way the muscles of Lucifer tensed up when chopping vegetables, the delicate and expert way with which he made his cut of meat. Something that he did not need on his head occupying as much space as it did during the next few days.

Finding out about the pastry where he went to get his breakfast every morning before coming there, whose bag Lucifer was always coming on his arrival, that was just another piece of information that he could use. The way that he drank his coffee, with at least three sugar cubes, it could be useful if he ever wanted to potion him without him realizing. 

Strike a conversation about how Alastor couldn't help to notice the way he moved around the kitchen, which then would lead to the confession that Lucifer had practiced ballet since he was very little, and even though he stopped practicing years ago, he still did some movements along in his house. It was just normal friendly conversation, no reason to give it any more importance than that. Imagine Lucifer on top of a stage while performing a piece while he elevated him on the air, like an angel that he was trying to send back to heaven, was just how people kept themselves interested on the topic, right?

After a few months of thinking of more ways in which he could enter in contact with Lucifer, and fewer ways to kill him discreetly, Alastor finally told himself he wasn't fooling anyone. Maybe that dying business man was right all along and a coffee date couldn't be so bad. 

He was good at scheduling after all, so if he just bothered to plan carefully then maybe he could manage to keep both his hunts and Lucifer in completely separated areas of his life. Many other people had done similar things before, why not him? Why should he ever deprive himself of something that could bring him pleasure? There was already some pleasure on the times he turned to see Lucifer and he had turned his head first, as if he had been the one watching and didn't want him to know.

"What...?" Lucifer stared at him, frozen in the middle of putting his folded coat back into his bag inside the locker. It was the time for closing and everyone else was gone for the day. Alastor had waited for a moment like that to finally make that question and now that he did, Lucifer frowned. "Are... are you inviting me on a date?"

"Are you accepting?" Alastor asked back, mostly confused for his reaction. 

As if instead of asking something out of him, he had taken out a bat and threatened him to bash his head in.

"Ha... ha ha..." Lucifer grabbed his chest and started heaving, the uncomfortable tight smile never leaving his face as the panic fully settled in. He took a step back, then another, not even looking at him. "A-are you kidding me? No. No, no, no, no, no, no. You have to be kidding me. That is a joke. Not a very funny one, Al!"

What the hell was wrong with him? Did he think he was going to react violently now? When did he ever give the impression that was something he could do just for hearing a no?

"It's not a joke" Now he was starting to get pissed. "You could just say no if the idea seems so funny to you."

"Then nope!" said Lucifer, quickly closing the door of his locker, his breathing calming down somewhat only after he said his response. The blonde was biting his lips, as if debating with himself if he should explain further. He was still not looking at Alastor directly. "I... I like women. So I have to say no. Please, don't ever ask that again."

Well. Fine then. Nothing else to do. 

"Fair enough" That was all Alastor could muster to say, no angry, no confused, just saving everything for now to think about or forget about later. Right now he kept his tone even, controlled as he figured out the best course of action. "I wasn't aware of that. I am sorry for assuming."

"It's fine..." The voice of Lucifer turned low as he pressed himself against the wall, as if wanting to disappear behind it. "Can we... forget this happened?"

He didn't want to forget. But he could pretend so if that is what it took for Lucifer to stop looking so fucking scared. He had never shown him any signs of danger, did he? But who knows. Maybe somehow he slipped or this was just the common assumption with straight men when a taller male coworker invited them to a date. He had no idea and right now he couldn't even theorize.

"Of course," said, closing the door of his own locker and grabbing his bag. 

When he came to the back door he turned for a moment. Lucifer had let himself slip from the wall onto the floor and was just sitting there, hugging his bag against his chest. In any other moment Alastor would have come to his side and asked him if he was alright, and even now that desire was still very much there, but instead he just continued on his way. 

He didn't take public transportation like usual. The long walk home was surely to clear his head, wash away the embarrassment and help him out to plan his next move. 

By the time he reached his apartment, he had the answer already:

Lucifer Morningstar had to die.

#radioapple #appleradio #duckiedeer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #lucifer x alastor #hazbin hotel au #dead plate au

[howlingday]

Extinct?Faunus Jaune

Idea is courtesy of @unknowdude34

---------------------------------------------------

Kasai Rex!Faunus Jaune

Jaune: I'll see you guys later.

Ruby: Huh? Where are you going?

Jaune: I'm gonna go eat in my room.

Nora: We can do that?

Weiss: Sit down and eat, you antisocial buffoon!

Jaune: ...Okay.

Cardin: I'm telling you, I know what I saw! There was something by the pool last night, tearing apart something huge!

Russel: Cardin, I normally believe ya, but it just sounds too weird.

Dove: Yeah, like, a deer carcass in the pool? Pretty sure we'd get an announcement about that.

Lark: Not to mention the crocodile you saw eating it.

Cardin: That wasn't a crocodile! It was... It was something else! Something out of a horror film!

Jaune: (Cutting off the legs on his nuggies, Wishing he could eat in private)

Fun Fact! In 1933, in the African Kasai Valley, a hunter named John Johnson took a photo of an alleged dinosaur while hunting elephants. The elephants he intended to shoot were in fact hunted by a bipedal creature with red scales and black stripes. He shot this creature, but it retreated. On his return to camp, he found the creature again eating a rhinoceros near the water.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Percetus Colossus!Faunus Jaune

Nora: WOW! You are HUGE!

Jaune: Um, h-hi... I'm Jaune.

Nora: Where were you on the bullhead?! How'd you even fit?!

Ren: Nora, please.

Jaune: They, uh... They had to call in another bullhead for me.

Fun Fact! A recently discovered early whale, the basilosaurid Perucetus Colossus has the heaviest animal bone mass to have ever been discovered, even outsizing the giant Blue Whale.

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Sperm Whale!Faunus Jaune Arc & Shark!Faunus Yang Xiao Long & Leviathan Melvillei!Faunus Papa Arc & Otodus Megalodon!Faunus Raven Branwen

Jaune: Just you and me, Yang.

Yang: Yeah... Only one of us can be the top fighter in this ring, and it's gonna be me.

Pyrrha: Why are those two always fighting?

Blake: For as long as I've known Yang, she and Jaune have always been fighting. It might even date back to their ancestors.

Meanwhile...

Papa Arc: Make the first move, Branwen...

Raven: Hmph! Ladies first, Arc...

Fun Fact! Leviathan Melvillei is an ancient ancestor of the sperm whale, equipped with teeth on it's top AND bottom jaw. It is argued whether it hunted Megalodon, were hunted by it, or simply competed would attack the other given the opportunity. The third is the often agreed upon consensus.

---------------------------------------------------

Giganotosaurus!Faunus Jaune & Tyrannosaurus!Faunus Saphron

Saphron: I took a test today! I aced it!

Mama Arc: Well done, Saphron! And how did you do, Jaune?

Jaune: Uh... W-Well, I think I'm improving, but-

Mama Arc: Jaune...

Jaune: ...I got a D+.

Fun Fact! Giganotosaurus is thought to be the largest theropod dinosaur discovered. However, despite have a much larger skull, and internal model of the brain casing shows that it may have had a smaller brain than the Tyrannosaurus.

#rwby #jaune arc #Kasai Rex!Faunus Jaune #Giganotosaurus!Faunus Jaune #Perucetus Colossus!Faunus Jaune #ruby rose #nora valkyrie #weiss schnee #lie ren #cardin winchester #russel thrush #dove bronzewing #sky lark #shark!faunus yang #sperm whale!faunus Jaune #otodus megalodon!faunus raven #raven branwen #leviathan Melvillei!faunus papa arc #papa arc #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #pyrrha nikos #mama arc #tyrannosaurus!faunus saphron #saphron arc #saphron cotta arc

[the-quiet-fire-of-defiance]

Te Hōkioi, and Speculation on the Dietary Habits of the Great Eagles

He Hōkioi, i runga, he Hōkioi, i runga, hū.

(The great eagle, from above, made a booming call)

Kei te āputa koe, nā, o te rangi, e noho ana,

(In the open space, there, in the sky, it dwells)

Te hoa moenga, nō whatitiri mātakataka;

(Death's companion, with crashing thunder)

Hei aha, tērā, e tararua mārire, ona hikumaro?

(Why, then, do its tail feathers no longer split the quiet in two?)

Rua maro tonu, ona hakikau;

(Two fathoms wide, its wings;)

E huhū nei, i runga te rangi,

(It called, above in the sky)

Hōkioi, Hōkioi.

(The sound: hōkioi, hōkioi.)

- poem/chant by the great Ngāti Toa chief Te Rauparaha

For @tolkienofcolourweek, I'm spending seven days bringing Māoritanga and mātauranga Māori to the world of Tolkien! Starting off on day 1 with: what did Manwë's Eagles eat?

Such massive animals, especially flying ones, would have required a huge caloric intake. We have little evidence about what potential prey may have existed in Beleriand and Middle Earth. The Hobbit mentions them eating sheep, and it seems likely that they would hunt other large animals, such as deer or bison. But there's nothing in our modern world that compares to or fills an ecological niche like Manwë's Eagles.

This is where I draw on Māori oral history of the largest eagles to ever live.

In English they're called Haast's Eagles, but in Māori there are several names. Probably the most well-known of the Māori names is pouakai/poukai, but my people called them hōkioi.

They were massive, weighing as much as 17.8 kg (about 39 lbs) and with wingspans as large as 3 metres (about 10ft). Their feet and claws were the size of modern day tigers, capable of punching through bone. They hunted prey more than fifteen times their own size.

(Granted, the eagles of Manwë are much larger than even the hōkioi! Still, it's similar enough for me to draw inspiration.)

[Left image: an artist's rendition of a hōkioi perched on a rock. Right image: an artist's rendition of a hōkioi attacking the neck of a giant flightless bird.]

The hōkioi's primary prey was the moa, large flightless birds similar to ostriches or emus. With no large land mammals on the islands, hōkioi were the apex predators.

Then, circa 900 CE, large mammals came to Aotearoa for the first time. They also preyed on moa, reducing the hōkioi's food supply. So perhaps it was natural that the hōkioi began to hunt these mammals as new prey.

Unfortunately, those mammals were us.

[Left image: an artist's rendition of a hōkioi attacking a Māori man who holds a spear. Right image: an artist's rendition of a child running from a hōkioi.]

Our stories of the hōkioi, or pouakai, tell of giant birds that could swoop down from the sky to kill and eat even strong warriors. They were also known to carry off small children.

I'm not saying that the eagles of Manwë ate elves or humans. (I think they were probably given firm instructions not to!) It would make sense for them to prey on orcs and other creatures of Morgoth, though. And there's one other group who we know were hunted like animals in Beleriand, due to... misunderstandings. A group who the Eagles may not have initially recognized as sentient creatures. A group who would have been an ideal size to pick up and carry off as a snack.

I'm just saying, I think there may have been multiple reasons that dwarves chose to live underground.

-

(Sources for further information about te hōkioi:

The man-killer that fell from the sky

NZ Birds: Haast's Eagle)

#silmarillion #silm meta #the giant eagles #tocweek2023 #māori-fying tolkien #mine #yes this is a little bit cracky #i fully acknowledge that #so please don't be weird in my notes and inbox #(also i SWEAR i haven't forgotten about my wips and i promise i'm working on them!)

[occultradio]

Hi sweet pea! I was wondering would it be cool for you to lore dump about your alien "breeding" system? Are they all potentially fertile? Sorry if ti's sudden but I love everything that involves worldbuilding and racebuilding!!

Hi!! 💜

Like with their emotional transfer thing, I took sims mechanics and ran with it. Mpreg, especially with aliens has been a cannon thing with sims for a realllyyyyy long time now regardless of what sex organs they have lol

Like Vis is the bio child of two lesbians so he knows absolute fuck all about gender roles anyways.

As for Sixam races/species I'm still working on that, the 3 types I do have figured out I still don't have names for.

I have a type inspired by cervidae(deer) & bovidae (mainly antelope)

Like Trace's mom or River who I have married to Strangerville's Erwin (their not always yellow it was just a coincidence)

Then I have one inspired by tropical fish (their not aquatic its just aesthetics) Viscera was originally made with @saruin's milkshake challenge. and his twin sister who was recently made because of an ask game lmfao. There's also Tilly, his late wife.

But the one I have set to throw a wrench in things genetic wise I haven't made as an individual yet. But their more spider/monster based, that one doesn't hybridize well and could possibly be from a planet other than Sixam. That's where Trace's face teeth and spider eyes come from. Them being intersex and having various health problems are just genetic fuck ups from the two species being incompatible. So literally any species could mix and be mostly fine except for the weird spider one.

Trace's assumed fertility issues (decades of groupies but zero kids) is again taken from animals, like mules & zebroid's who are a hybrid of horse and donkey or zebra. 99.9% of the time they are sterile but there's been extremely rare instances of mules having offspring.

BUTTTTTT I also have these ones who don't fit those 3 types at all

I've always been obsessed with genetics and genetic deformity's one of my favorite places I've ever been on a date to was the Mutter Museum, they have the largest collection of preserved human deformities and other oddities and it was just so cool to see that yeah dna fucks up majorly some times.

I also personally collect 'oddities' (found bones and taxidermy)

But yeah Trace can make/have babies but their fertility rate is absolutely garbage so without any actual medical testing they were right to assume infertile.

as for determining who gets impregnanted??? idk 🤷‍♀️ Trace has topped Vis a few times and at the end of their rough makeup session but then again Vis's moms are both biologically female and they have bio kids.

#Sorry this was so long!!! #I'm a freak about genetics #Hey Vis you know what they say about having twins running in the family 👀 #oc: viscera #oc: trace #ask #one of my hyperfocuses is weird genetic shit

[c-casu]

Being the crossroad between Eurasia and Australasia south-east Asia has always been quite biodiverse, with environments quite different from each other and with many endemic species.

India and South China have the most similar biomes to the rest of Eurasia, with the deer or antelope like Elagids and the heavily-built Moschystricids being some of the most common sights in both the grasslands and the forests of these two regions, along with the enormous Elepharrhinids, and the many cats and dogs that radiated into many different forms, from the almost bear like Arctofelis indicus and the big Fellimus chenxiaoxi to the smaller Pernicofelis namadicus and wolf-like Thoocyon sinensis. Unlike the rest of the continent, tho, this area is home to some of the largest birds of their time, descended from hornbills that became flightless and are now quite successful grazers and browsers.

The indochinese peninsula is one of the most important biodiversity hotspots. Other than the many cats, dogs and hog bears, that are widespread across the continent but here have their greatest numbers, both in species and individuals, this is one of the only places in Eurasia where nutria descendants, more used to temperate climates, aren’t the biggest semi-aquatic herbivores, which are instead descended from chevrotains. They graze on the river bed and browse on the reeds that grow on the riverbanks, and are quite territorial, fighting each other with their fangs to impose dominance.

This is also the only mainland region where apes are still alive, with many gibbon species thriving in the rainforest.

On the border between Asia and Oceania, the island of Papua is one of the only places where the biggest animals aren’t mammals, but birds and crocodiles, that occupy the niches of big herbivores and carnivores. The biggest mammal on the island is the Greater tree kangaroo (Simiolagus grandis), around the side of a small chimp. This island is also the refugium of the last big ratite, the dwarf cassowary, whose only relatives are the still basal tinamous in South America and the New Zealand kiwis.

If you want to join the discord project’s discord server here’s the link https://discord.gg/5TqDEFb7

#spec evo #spec bio #speculative evolution #speculative biology #worldbuilding #artwork #digital art #epigene period #future earth

[bonefall]

Oooo now you’re really getting me into Clanmew. What are the names for birds and bird species in Clanmew?

The simple word for "Bird" evolved from Old Tribemew, at the Dawn of the Clans. A "Bird" is any two-winged flying animal with bones.

Bird (and bats) = Hafefyl

The major types of birds that the Clan cats recognize are as follows;

Raptor = Yassga A large, dangerous bird. Any avian perceived to pose a threat is in this category, including swans, ravens, and herons. Not just birds of prey.

Fowl = Eyawoon Large prey birds, the same level of danger as any other large quarry. Ducks, pheasants, gulls, cormorants, a chicken or peacock would also be in this category.

Game = Biyaw These are the birds that are eaten regularly, without much other consideration. It's where most of the 'odd' birds that don't fit other categories go. Pigeons, sparrows, quails.

Fancy = Pyrrya Any bird that would be a shameful thing to kill. That usually means songbirds with pleasing songs, but also colorful ones with pleasing patterns and behaviors, and even bats as they bring sickness when eaten.

Examples of "Yassga";

Golden Eagle (Aquila chrysaetos) = Nyieu A species only encountered in the Tribe mountain, before re-contact it was considered a legendary animal. The most dangerous flying species, capable of attacking small deer.

Sparrow Hawk (Accipiter nisus) = Yi'i When hawks are being noted for their speed, it's this species. They primarily hunt other birds, but not cats.

Red Kite (Milvus milvus) = Eeao This is the species that is both large and bold enough to take kittens. The vast majority of the time when hawks are mentioned in a dangerous context, it is a kite. Goshawks are not as numerous in this area as canon implies.

Kestrel (Falco tinnunculus) = Ipip Acrobatic, agile bird able to seemingly 'hover' in the air.

Marsh Harrier (Circus aeruginosus) = Yeepi Skilled attentive hunters that tend to hunt small mammals in open areas, especially wetlands. RiverClan and ShadowClan see these a lot.

Merlin (Falco columbarius) = Mweelili A small, generalist hunter that likes low-density areas like moorland, sparse woods, and brush. Known for being friendly with Harriers and eating just about anything.

Osprey (Pandion haliaetus) = Pyip Not actually a dangerous species; but the perception of danger will make Clan cats avoid this creature. Most commonly found by the sea.

Swan (Cygnus olor) = Hchom Large and quiet, these birds are so large they can drown a foolish warrior or break a bone.

Raven (Corvus corax) = Nyok A raven is considered a very dangerous bird not only for its size and ferocious beak, but because of how vengeful an unkindness can be. They remember Clan cats and seemingly mess with them on purpose.

Gray Heron (Ardea cinerea) = Krekek With their habit of spearing, bludgeoning, and even brutally drowning their prey, herons are feared and avoided. There are stories of herons picking off wayward kittens, but it's unknown if it's true or just a tale to stop them from wandering.

Eagle owl (Bubo bubo) = Huo The biggest, largest, most dangerous owl. Cats are a desired prey. No other owl will attack an adult warrior, and eagle owls are most often found in ThunderClan territory where there's thick forest and a nearby rocky cliff.

Tawny owl (Strix aluco) = Hrrua'u A loud, sonorous owl. Known best for being the species roosting in the old Owl Tree.

Barn owl (Tyto alba) = Weear This owl does not hoot, it screeches.

Examples of "Eyawoon";

Duck (Anas platyrhynchos) = Kwek There are several species of ducks they encounter occasionally-- but this one, the mallard duck, is the most common. ThunderClan liked to try and hunt them when they had Sunningrocks, sometimes inflaming tensions between clans.

Ring-necked Pheasant (Phasianus colchicus) = Rauqa Named for the territorial cry of a male pheasant, the most impressive prize that a ThunderClan warrior can catch.

Black-headed Gull (Chroicocephalus ridibundus) = Rewp Not just a seabird; found further in-land and will make do with just about any body of water. This is a species regularly found and hunted at Sanctuary Lake, and also the type that Gullswoop is named for.

Herring Gull (Larus argentatus) = Eeyar The Clan cats haven't been doing salt patrols long enough yet to know that this is absolutely not an Eyawoon, but in fact, a Yassga. Sandwhich-stealing BASTARDS. They're the ones with the gray back, yellow beak, little red mark on the lip, and feral Grinch-looking eyes. If you live by the ocean you know. (There is another species that looks similar but Clan cats think they are the same animal)

Cormorant (Phalacrocorax carbo) = Waer A large, black fishing bird that dives underwater to catch its prey. Revered by RiverClan.

Carrion crow (Corvus corone) = Rawk This is the species being referred to when "crowfood" is mentioned. Rawkwoo.

Magpie (Pica pica) = Ke'ek Glossy, beautiful blue, black, and white bird. Very intelligent and a difficult catch; like crows and ravens they are smart enough to have a concept of social learning.

Egret (Egretta garzetta) = Bwawa Though they have many of the same 'brutal' behaviors as herons, they're too small to cause damage and hence are sorted into 'eyawoon'

There is currently no word for Chicken but Ravenpaw is probably using the term Barley likes best. Except the rooster which he immediately named "Urkaroona."

Examples of "Biyaw";

Wood Pigeon (Columba palumbus) = Huwoohoo Big, fat, common, a popular meal bird.

Dove (Columba livia) = Hrru Funfact: In TPB, there is a moment where Fireheart scolds Cloudpaw for calling a pigeon a 'dove.' In English, pigeons and doves are synonyms, but in Clanmew, Cloudtail had killed a Huwoohoo, but called it a Hrru.

Sparrow (Passer domesticus and Passer montanus) = Qee Though there's a difference in plumage between these species, Clan cats think they are the same species because their songs are nearly identical. Passer montanus (Eurasian Tree Sparrow) is just considered what a sparrow looks like when it lives deep in the woods.

Quail (Coturnix coturnix) = Wipiwik A round little ground bird that's very fast.

Jackdaw (Coloeus monedula) = Miaw A black-and gray bird with a mewling call.

Song Thrush (Turdus philomelos) = Errari This bird has many songs, which is taken by Clan cats as intentionally trying to hide its true name. They may even be changing their appearances to look like a Mistle Thrush; clearly they're something much more intelligent, since they use stones to smash open snail shells.

Mistle Thrush (Turdus viscivorus) = Charrech Much larger than a Song Thrush. Brave, one of the few birds that sings even in terrible weather, but named for the angry sound it makes when it's guarding berry bushes in winter.

Fieldfare (Turdus pilaris) = Apapach A very important winter prey bird which travels in large flocks. Bullied by Mistle Thrushes for good food sources.

Redwing (Turdus iliacus) = Eean Similar to a fieldfare, but smaller and usually in tinier groups. The call is very different, so these birds are not usually confused by Clan cats unless they're seen first. Apapach are the preferred prey of the two.

Blackbird (Turdus merula) = Oohee Males are blue-black with a yellow ring around the eye, and females are a ruddy dappled brown.

Eurasian jay (Garrulus glandarius) = Arkr Loud, aggressive medium-sized birds. Pale with blue wings.

Examples of "Pyrrya"

Bat (4 SPECIES) = Fip This refers to the sound of their wings mid-flight. No species of bat is consumed. If eaten they can bring horrible sickness, seen as a punishment for killing an holy night-loving animal with such a beautiful voice and great hunting skill. Clan cats are able to hear bat songs out of range of human hearing!

Pipistrelle (Pipistrellus pipistrellus) = Popep A very small, common bat species that usually eats mosquitoes and midges in wet areas.

Soprano Pipistrelle (Pipistrellus pygmaeus) = Ipi'ip Humans can barely tell the difference between these two, but Clan cats recognize that the song of a Soprano is much faster, higher-pitched, and absolutely sonorous. Considered the night version of a wren and held in high esteem.

Long-eared Brown Bat (Plecotus auritus) = Fepfr A very quiet, low-flying bat with a habit for doing some ground-hunting. This is usually the first bat that an apprentice sees instead of hears, and the one which is used to teach them to not hunt bats. It has a very modest song, which Clan cats explain as mourning for every bat accidentally killed and discarded. Rarely called the "Fip Hhass;" the Whisper Bat.

Noctule (Nyctalus noctula) = Shi'po The largest bat, has huge teeth and a broad face. Females both migrate and hibernate, but males stay awake all year and sing with a very distinctive tune hard to put into a word.

Songbird (SEVERAL SPECIES) = Pigu Note: Most songbirds are down here in this category, but some, like Song Thrushes, are only here conditionally. Usually if there's enough food to go around.

Wren (Troglodytes troglodytes) = Pi'ie The song of this tiny bird is so fast and beautiful that Clan cats have a hard time putting it into words; these birds are not killed except by fiends and rogues.

Robin (Erithacus rubecula) = Birri This is a small, gray-and-brown bird with a bright orange face. They're not very filling, pretty, and sing a delightful song, so like the other species in this category they aren't taken unless there's a serious need.

Woodcock (Scolopax rusticola) = Mweep Though large and delicious, these birds are so enjoyed that killing them is dishonorable without approval. They're the only bird that can fly away with its young, it dances and puts on air shows as mating rituals, and they're quite rare.

There are more species than this found in the area but this should be more than enough for now. Here's the most significant "bird" species they experience on a regular basis!

#Clanmew #Clanmew expansion back

[script-a-world]

hello! i'm currently building a world for a wild west themed ttrpg. the continent the game takes place in is a desert that's been cursed to be isolated from the rest of the world—no one can go in, no one can go out. anyone that tries to escape finds themselves lost in an endless expanse of sand. but i digress, anyways! the main issue of this continent (isolation aside) is the fact that it has no access to water at all. how people hydrate is through this fruit which has a liquid inside that the people can drink. think of a coconut but it can grow properly in a desert since it's magic.

i'd just like to know if there's any sort of worldbuilding advice or questions that could help me explore this idea in a more meaningful way? i already have some of the logistics of how this sort of thing could be distributed in a world like this but i want it to be more grounded. magic exists in this world so that can help explain some things but i want to be careful not to make it so wishy-washy, y'know? thanks so much!

Tex: Even the largest of deserts have an end, be it another biome or a body of water because the continent can only be so large across a planet. Aside from that, clouds will not inherently respect anyone’s boundary on where they can move as part of the water cycle and the natural unevenness of terrain means that water will eventually pool up somewhere, creating oases. Mountains, perhaps, may slow the movement of humidity in the air, but unless you’re willing to make a very, very, very large volcano that’s dead enough and large enough to accumulate sand (which in that instance would be more akin to volcanic ash and as sharp as ground glass), water will still naturally get in and settle into bodies of water. Accordingly, the “wild west” only existed because of the rapid development of trains and railroad lines, so even historically they were not actually isolated - merely delayed, in terms of what they were able to ship. By 1900, someone could travel from the East Coast of the US to the West Coast in approximately a week, depending on the route. If fresh food is packed well (say, seafood in ice), it wouldn’t even spoil for the duration of that journey. For desert flora that can act as reservoirs of water, the Saguaro cactus is a very good example of this (Wikipedia), as are many types of melons (Wikipedia).

Feral: The biggest concern historically, including during the Wild West, in desert climates was not getting hydration for the people but for the horses. Horses drink 5 to 10 gallons (20 to 40 liters) of water a day. Humans need 0.5 to 0.8 gallons (2-3 liters). Although humans/player characters of whichever races you’re using can probably get by with the sources of hydration Tex mentioned, but if they have mounts, there’s going to be a problem. With a ttrpg, this could just be flavor or it could be an actual resource mechanic. To make it more on the believable side, I would recommend wells being a thing. Maybe in towns or along common routes. Also keep in mind, fruits that provide hydration do not spontaneously create water; they absorb it, so there must be water somewhere, somehow. 

Wootzel: If this magic fruit is legitimately the only source of drinkable water, does that also apply to whatever other plants that grow? Are all animals in this area dependent on the fruit as well? Are people having to break the fruits over their crops?

I’m taking a wild guesstimation that if EVERYTHING that needs water has to get it via this fruit because there’s almost no ground water and no precipitation, then 80% or more of the plants growing in this area are the plant that bears this fruit. Or can other plants draw water from the ground in some way (but is it not accessible via digging or drilling a well or whatever because magic curse?), and it’s just fauna that have to drink via fruit?

Do the fruits or their liquid spoil easily, or at all? Do they ferment and become alcoholic? Do the local jackrabbits get drunk on them like deer with apples, and stumble around the desert at night?

What else is in the fruit-liquid? Is it just as functional a source of hydration as water, or are there any other substances in it that the body needs to process out… maybe via the kidneys… resulting in needing to drink more of this liquid than one would need to drink water?

Does evaporating this fruit liquid and trapping/condensating the resulting water work well enough if someone needed plain water for wound care, baby care, or whatever else?

How does anyone bathe?

Are many conflicts involving control of these fruit and the plant they grow on, since having that resource cut off is quickly deadly? Meaning, even if the conflict wasn’t originally about fruit-control, someone burns down someone else’s orchard and now that’s the main focus? Or is this stuff so prevalent that you could try to kill it and it just starts growing back from a crazy tap root the next day?

You have a premise that’s not highly plausible, and it would probably make life rough and precarious for the people and animals who live in this area, but it’s not impossible for human ingenuity to figure out how to make it work anyway. If you choose to keep your water-fruit as the only source of hydration, life is going to look QUITE different in this area.

Addy: I've got a couple thoughts, some are more rambly than others. The first question I've got is no water at all vs no water that's suitable for humans. There's a fair amount of difference in what those will imply for plant and animal life.

Most deserts have some amount of life, after all. Lizards, insects, jackrabbits, cacti, scrub brush, aloe very and other succulents, snakes, birds, foxes, dogs, etc - those all need water to survive. That water might be deep underground, it could be rare rainfall, it could be occasional floods (like what causes arroyos), it could be all sorts of things.

And what about horses? If you've got a wild west setting, horses (or similar mounted animals) and cattle are staples of that kind of setting. What do they drink? Horses need lots of water, especially if they're exercising. What do they eat? No water means no grass, no scrub, nothing to eat. Even if you're riding giant lizards, those lizards gotta drink.

So either this fruit (what season does it grow in?) is cultivated en masse for liquid extraction, or there is some other source of water that's cursed to kill sentient creatures, so you've got stuff that animals can drink but people can't. Still have the plant cultivated en masse, but you've got some more flexibility on it. Your people will need to bring their own water along, but they can stop by rest areas, etc to let their animals drink.

Either way, farms are going to be absolutely crucial logistical standpoints in this setting. Cattle can move themselves (which makes them easy(ish) to steal), but plants need careful tending in an unmoving place. I'm seeing some kind of fortified settlement, where you've got the water farms heavily defended by whatever militia/military forces you've got in the area (having some kind of control system over the water would make it easier to manage people to your desires), with towns surrounding them.

If you've got a strong magic setup, maybe the plants grow best over certain ley lines/underground magical "currents," so you've got isolated strongholds

The strongholds have a heavy amount of control over their local area, since they're the ones who have the ability to produce the fruit on the scale required, but trying to transport that water raises issues of thievery. So once you get outside, say, half a day's ride, you run into logistical issues + thievery problems. That's about 15-20 miles if it's flat, or 10-15 miles if it's hilly, by horseback. A covered wagon can cover ~8-20 miles per day, so that lines up pretty well with a day's distance for a shipment of water. 

And then, outside of those strongholds, you can get smaller crops of water-fruit, but not much. You could get bandit outposts that focus on raiding water (or that have their own secret ley line water nexus growing spot), so as to keep them outside of the law. If you have scrub that animals can eat (even if the groundwater would poison humans), then that also frees up a lot of possibilities for stuff like cattle rustling, since you'd be able to actually keep the cattle watered at watering holes.

That's one way to do it, and sort of the general trend I could see happening (people need water to live, whoever controls the water controls the people). If there's no water, at all, besides what's produced by this one plant, this plant better grow really easily, or else there's nothing around to live off of. Also, if it's a fruit, then the harvest season would be a big deal. 

#anonymous #biome #climate #desert

[caxycreations]

Food Distribution on Relan

Since @thetruearchmagos seemed interested, thought I would do this haha.

Info and Worldbuilding under the cut

I'm just gonna go over Ferusian food distribution, as it's the leading nation for food practices, and most other nations emulate (to varying degrees of success) these practices.

I may also go slightly off topic, though still relevant, so bear with me.

Ferusian Food Distribution

Ferus is the leading nation for food distribution practices. There are very, very strict laws in place that severely punish poor practice.

Ultimately, this is how food is managed in Ferus:

Food is produced by farms, hunters, and reserves.

Farms specifically deal in crops. Fruits, vegetables, berries, and other plant-based food sources. While some are specialized (the third largest farm in Ferus is 22,000 acres and is dedicated entirely to the growth of corn), others grow a variety of crops (the largest farm in Ferus is approximately 45,000 acres and the land is divided between apple and pear orchards, as well as potato, carrot, and onion fields) for the nation. These farms supply Distribution Firms with the crops, which are then delivered via specially designed trucks to local markets, manufacturing plants, and other such places to be sold or refined.

Some of these trucks are designed for long-distance travel and, through the Speedway that stretches across Ferus, deliver their cargo across the nation to other Distribution Firms, which then deliver the goods to the nearby businesses and markets.

Then there are hunters. In Ferus, "Hunter" is still very much a viable career path. Hunters are employed by the Ferusian Wildlife Management Force (FWMF), and are tasked with preventing overpopulation of invasive species. The FWMF specializes in a practice known as "controlled invasion", wherein they will introduce a small number of a species into an environment where their unique evolutions make them hyper-suited to thrive. This creates an invasive species "problem", and when numbers reach problematic levels, the FWMF deploys waves of Hunters to thin the herd. This manufactured cycle allows Ferus' wildlife to thrive freely in environments suited to them, without allowing any one species to completely dominate all others in an ecosystem.

It also allows the Hunters to hunt year-round, though with a monthly limit on each species.

Species hunted under the authority of the FWMF include, but are not limited to: deer, elk, boar, greatwolves, rabbits, moose, pheasant, duck, and bear.

The last branch of Ferusian food distribution is known as the Reserves.

Reserves are animal farms. Great swathes of land with a safe, peaceful environment where herd animals are raised. Reserves follow strict environmental policies, limiting the size of herds as well as the rate of growth of herds, ensuring the well-being of both local environment and global environment due to how large these Reserves would grow otherwise.

When a herd exceeds the maximum size, Reserve owners enact Culling, a process where they will humanely put down 2/3 of the population of the Reserve. The process for this differs from species to species and from Reserve to Reserve, but strict laws are in place that require methods to be painless and swift, to prevent cruelty.

The 2/3 of the herd that is put down is then delivered to Processing Plants where they are butchered, separated into the various meats and cuts that are available from the species, and prepared for sale and redistribution.

Side note: Due to Tangkorak influence on Ferusian law in the early days, there is a law that forbids waste of a slaughtered animal, and as such every aspect of the animal is used. Bones are used for broth manufacturing, excess fat is turned into cooking oils, and so on. Ferusian Law dictates no part of a slaughtered animal is to go to waste.

This is the first step in Ferusian food distribution.

Once food has been delivered to local businesses and Processing Plants, it goes through the next phase.

Those foods delivered as-is to businesses are simply sold and used by the populace (though locally-grown and locally-raised goods are always free, you only pay for food that was shipped from other parts of the country or other nations).

The food delivered to Processing Plants however is then processed into various forms. Crops are separated into slices, sauces, mashes, jams, jellies, juices, seeds, etc, and packaged as such. Meats are sliced, mashed, blended, shredded, etc, and packaged as such.

These processed forms of food are then distributed locally and across the nation.

It's worth noting that 60% of raw-form food (un-processed meat and crops) are distributed locally, with 60% of processed food also being distributed locally.

Due to the vast farms and reserves that produce food as well as the carefully maintained manufactured ecosystems by the FWMF, food is plentiful in Ferus and any excess is sold to other nations to avoid a hunger crisis and as efforts of good faith and peace between countries.

Note: If there is a specific question any part of this raises, by all means ask. I more than likely have an answer for it.

#relan #worldbuilding #tylvinian tales

[coldalbion]

Like Covid, climate change will force more artists away from traditional opportunities for community and inspiration. The pandemic turned drag Twitch streamer DEERE into a full-timer; as a makeup artist, her gigs vanished. So she focused on her passions: drag, horror games, and streaming. Early in the pandemic, comedian Jenny Yang created and hosted Comedy Crossing, a twice-monthly standup show streamed over Zoom from inside the game Animal Crossing. Throughout 2020, it raised more than $40,000 for Black Lives Matter. “I’m in this industry and have dedicated my life to it because I want to be part of a conversation,” she says. “To me the collective conversation is what makes life meaningful.” BOARLORD is an indie game developer who “pivoted to porn” (and Patreon) during the pandemic after working in tech, where she discovered “the naked hatred they all have for cultural production.” It was there she found her place. “I am not trying to capture the largest audience. I’m being hyper-specific, sometimes to my detriment," she says of her work. Or, to put it another way, DEERE, Yang, and BOARLORD all found their own ways of seizing the means of production, of audience-building. It's the same thing Black Girl Nerds CEO Jamie Broadnax discovered live-tweeting Scandal years earlier. “I didn’t know I was building a community,” Broadnax says. “I was tired of waiting for a seat at the table, so I built my own table.” The appeal of becoming one’s own studio head is obvious. “Take TikTok,” says Clifton. “You have teens with a more polished presence online than most companies, who have become TikTok experts seemingly overnight, and their work just keeps getting more and more professional-grade.” But in a world where everyone is a brand, no one can be a star. And influencers have discovered what porn performers already knew: Platforms are fickle. Content guidelines, corporate ownership, and payment structures can change overnight, without explanation. Much like humans have permanently altered and unsettled the natural world, online ecosystems for fans and creators have experienced rolling shocks in response to technology. Just as users find another den, it’s burned down. The story of the internet is the story of America itself: a seemingly limitless landscape transformed into a shopping mall populated by the same handful of brands, products, and voices. MacDonald tells me that what’s important about pornography isn’t what it can tell us about entertainment but what it can tell us about how platforms will treat people in the future. “Porn workers are the canaries in the coal mine. They are the first ones to be censored, demonetized, deprioritized in recommender systems, shadow-banned,” MacDonald says. And their vulnerability will soon be everyone’s. “Porn workers are at the bleeding edge of showing that if we don’t address this unilaterally and quickly, next it will be queer video gamers, and after that it will be certain political opinions, and that is alarming. That should concern everyone.” To understand how the American media landscape fractured, one must first understand the brands that forged it. According to Faris Yakob, cofounder of creative consultancy Genius Steals and author of Paid Attention, advertisers created the neutral “view from nowhere” voice in media. In the 19th and 20th centuries, national brands looking to grow customers wouldn’t partner with biased publications. But everything changed when ad tech arrived. “People started tagging their digital media buys so it wouldn’t appear next to topics like homosexuality, or Covid, to avoid getting into clusters,” Yakob says. “But that means that the news isn’t being funded. If you can pick and choose what topics to fund in news, you can distort what is being reported on, to some degree.”

This a fantastic article that touches on so much

#sag aftra #writers strike #queer #media

[natlacentral]

How Kiawentiio went from a ‘little arty kid’ to the star of Avatar: The Last Airbender

You know that classic actor’s arc, painstakingly building from bit parts to bigger roles, withstanding rejection and despair? Yeah, that’s not Kiawentiio’s story. The Mohawk Canadian actor was cast in the first thing she auditioned for, the hit CBC/Netflix series Anne with an E. Her next role was the title character in Tracey Deer’s wrenching, semi-autobiographical film Beans, followed by a gig on Rutherford Falls. And now she’s the second lead in a gigantic Netflix series, Avatar: The Last Airbender, a live-action reimagining of the beloved animated series (2005-08), shot mostly in British Columbia, arriving Feb. 22. And she’s only 17.

We meet via video call, and even on that flattening medium, Kiawentiio sparkles. (Professionally, she goes by that mononym, pronounced Guy-a-wen-di-jou.) She’s poised and friendly, without any child-actor posing. Now and again she glances over her shoulder into a corner I can’t see; turns out her mother is there for backup.

Her Anne with an E audition was a lark – or as Kiawentiio puts it, “It came out of nowhere and happened randomly.” Growing up on the Akwesasne reserve on Kawehno:ke (also known as Cornwall Island), which straddles the Ontario/New York State border, she was “the little arty kid in the corner, who stayed inside at recess to paint and draw,” and dreamed of going to art school. Her dad chanced upon an open casting call on Facebook, and they thought, might as well try it. She was the last audition of the day.

Landing Avatar: The Last Airbender, by contrast, required more of a campaign. As a kid, Kiawentiio loved the animated series – its environmental and spiritual themes, its thoughtful depictions of Asian and Indigenous cultures, the battle scenes of Benders wielding the four elements, “the character arcs, the sheer craftsmanship. It would fill me.”

So when she heard rumours a few years ago about a live-action reboot, she had a feeling she’d be right for Katara, 14, a novice Waterbender, the last in her Southern Water Tribe, traumatized by the world war being waged by the Fire Nation, yet undaunted and hopeful. Teaming up with Aang, the title character (played in the series by Gordon Cormier), she begins to realize her potential. Kiawentiio asked her agents to keep an eye out, “just in case the universe is listening.”

The audition, when it came, was veiled in secrecy – fake project and character names, disguised scenes, all via Zoom. After a month-long series of “adrenalin-pumping” chemistry reads with other actors, showrunner Albert Kim delivered the news: Yes, it was Airbender; yes, they’d been searching the world for their Katara; and yes, it was her. She and her family burst into tears.

With her co-stars, Kiawentiio spent six weeks at “bending boot camp,” where each learned the martial art their movements are based on: wushu for Firebending, tai chi for Waterbending, Hung Ga for Earthbending and Bagua for Airbending. They shot on a cutting-edge mix of green screens, practical sets – Kyoshi Village was built in a working quarry in Coquitlam, B.C.; Jet’s hideout was filmed at WildPlay, a ziplining park in Maple Ridge, B.C. – and volume stages, including the world’s largest LED video wall studio, a near-circle lined with 2,500 LED wall panels and 760 LED ceiling panels, at Canadian Motion Picture Park in Burnaby, B.C.

“That stage was warm,” Kiawentiio says, laughing. “Wearing Katara’s big blue parka, pretending to be in the Arctic while being in a microwave.” Watching the animated series come to life was “surreal,” she continues. “When you see Appa in front of you” – a flying beast that combines bison, hippo and manatee – “or even small things like my necklace – I remember being almost in tears.”

Canada’s Paul Sun-Hyung Lee (Kim’s Convenience) plays Iroh, brother to Fire Lord Ozai (Daniel Dae Kim); the actors playing Katara’s parents, Rainbow Dickerson and Joel Montgrand, also played Kiawentiio’s parents in Beans. But she didn’t get to hang out much – “I was in high school at the time, just trying to get through 11th grade,” she says. “Fun fact, I’ve never been to a first day of high school with my classmates. Every year I was doing something, travelling somewhere.” Now graduated, with a five-year option for possible future seasons, “I’m saving my next few years for the show and whatever else may come from it. But I plan on going to school in the future.”

Each of the four Airbender nations has real-world roots, including Omashu, Himalayan, Indonesian and Indigenous Arctic cultures; cultural consultants advised on folklore, history and mythology, as well as costumes, calligraphy and artifacts; and the series’ four directors are of Asian descent. That mattered, Kiawentiio says: “It’s 100-per-cent important to me that I represent where I come from, my people and my language. That comes with me to every character I portray.”

Her opportunity to embody authentic Indigenous characters has never been higher, as a spate of recent series attest: Reservation Dogs, Little Bird, Echo, True Detective: Night Country, the Yellowstone franchise. Lily Gladstone could well become the first Indigenous woman to win a Best Actress Oscar, for Killers of the Flower Moon. And Deer, Kiawentiio’s Beans director was an excellent role model: “Being able to see her be the leader, be so strong, opened my eyes to other things I can explore – directing, producing.”

But she doesn’t want portraying Indigenous characters to become its own kind of limit. “Those roles will always be at my root; they are what I can see myself in and relate to. That doesn’t have to be the end of what we’re capable of, though. We don’t have to just play the Indian friend, the Native guy. We can be just that doctor or teacher or lawyer, those regular roles. The days of just getting a role, and not The Native role, are still ahead of us.”

Now that Kiawentiio’s accidental career is skyrocketing, “it’s funny how weirdly normal it gets,” she says. “I understand how people can lose their groundedness. You’re in the air so much, how do you stay grounded? It’s helpful to keep my real life separate, with my family and friends, and have my work self be almost a persona.”

She’s always had a readable face, she realizes. “I can’t hide anything; it’s all in my eyes. But to be able to be in control of that to portray someone else is so interesting. My dad told me he’s never seen me light up the way I do when I’m on a set. That’s when I knew I should stick with it.”

#natla #atla #netflix avatar #netflix atla #avatar the last airbender #atla netflix #avatar netflix #kiawentiio #article #the globe and mail

[duckclan]

The Beginning

Moonclan lived alongside the wolves they worked with for years upon years, longer than any cat could remember. When you saw them, you would give a greeting. If you found extra prey on patrol, you gave some to your friendly canine neighbors. In return, they would protect the clan from the largest threats in the mountains.

Unfortunately, neither Moonclan nor the wolves could prepare for the biggest threat: the Twolegs. Unbeknownst to both the cats and wolves, these humans were called poachers, and were overhunting out of season. The wolves began to starve, unable to subside on the small prey that the cats could.

Eventually, the wolves had no other choice. They launched an attack on the allies they had had for years, hunting them down for food. Some ran successfully, but most died at the teeth of the animals they trusted for their whole lives.

A small group of apprentices found themselves frantically protecting a kit-the only kit in the clan that hadn't already been evacuated. At the mouth of the den stood a she-wolf. The apprentices hissed and spat at her, and her face looked downtrodden. At that moment, she realized that she couldn't hurt these cats, no matter how hungry she was.

So she led them out, tearing a hole in the den to lead them out of camp that way. Far away, she helped them to a cavern higher in the mountains, introducing herself as Duck Nest. The eight escaped cats were forever grateful to her, declaring their new clan to be named Duckclan as they gave each other their new names, stating that they had to be warriors now, because they were on their own.

Howdy everyone! Welcome to Duckclan, a clangen clan where every cat is apprentice-age, save for the one kit!

My plan is to post a few moons every 2-4 days. Every in game 3 years I will make a small post updating everyone on the cats currently in the clan.

Below the cut, you can find our clan!

Crowstar - 11 Moons old - Male - Leader - 9 lives remaining

A nervous cat, Crowstar is the oldest in the clan, and the one who first banded the group together to protect Downykit. Ever since he'd been very young, he'd been interested in being a nursery king and taking care of the kits of the clan. Despite his want, he felt he had to step up, guided by the blessing given to him by Downykit's mother, Sporeshade, who died in the wolf attack.

He's not sure how well he can lead a clan, but he hopes to do well.

Shimmerscratch - 11 Moons old - Male - Deputy

Shimmerscratch likes to think of himself as thoughtful and clever, and he was in fact the first cat to realize there was something wrong with the wolves. He endlessly regrets not being able to figure out exactly what, and hopes to eventually make up for his perceived mistake. As of now, he's happy with his position, and he is the second oldest cat in the clan, only about a week younger than Crowstar.

Despite being a deputy, Shimmerscratch has no doubts that he won't be the one to succeed Crowstar.

Antlertree - 10 Moons Old - Male - Medicine Cat

Having been trained as a medicine cat apprentice before Moonclan was attacked, Antlertree was the no brainer for the medicine cat of the newly founded Duckclan. He's quite good in remembering the tales of old, meaning he's able to keep Moonclan alive in stories, despite everything else from it being destroyed.

He wants to train an apprentice as soon as possible.

Hyacinthpelt - 11 Moons Old - Male - Warrior

The only cat in Duckclan not born in Moonclan, Hyacinthpelt was found in a patch of his namesake when he was just a little kit, his mother having fallen victim to the hooves of a startled deer. He never trusted the wolves that Moonclan loved so much, and was an outcast because of it. While extremely distressed at the events that played out that day, Hyacinthpelt does feel a little relieved that he wasn't entirely being stupid.

Unbeknownst to him, his bloodline comes from the very distant Lotusclan, who have the ability to see ghosts. He isn't aware of this yet, as he was too young for his mother to tell him before she died. He's in for a very rude awakening with the recent mass death.

Mosspurr - 10 Moons Old - Female - Warrior

Fluffy, charismatic, and a peace lover, Mosspurr has always been interested in the way that traits are passed from parent to kit. She's fond of the long, thick fur of Moonclan cats, and she's hoping that that kind of fur can continue with Duckclan. Very fond of kits, she's interested to know what traits from her family she'd pass to any she had.

Her mane is genetic, and she gets it from her father's side of the family. She has an abnormally large amount of testosterone in her blood for a she-cat, causing her to be larger than most.

Stemspots - 9 Moons Old - Female - Warrior

Ambitious is a good word to describe Stemspots-she's constantly trying to do her best and prove herself. Her specific family line has always seemed to be the cats that can get up the mountain the best, and she carries that trait, with strong front paws and powerful haunches that can send her flying with a well aimed leap. She believes herself to be a descendant of bobcats that joined the clan, and she feels upset that there's absolutely no way to prove it.

She's hoping to be a mentor soon despite being apprentice age herself.

Fernpelt - 8 Moons Old - Male - Warrior

With the shortest fur in Duckclan, Fernpelt is trying his best to not worry about what he's gonna do during the winter. Despite his recent kittypet blood [with his grandmother being one], Fernpelt was confident in his place in Moonclan, and is now even more confident in his place in Duckclan.

He's distantly related to the same group of bobcats that Stemspots is related to, but they themselves are not related.

Downykit - 3 Moons Old - Male - Kit

Though he greatly misses his mother, Sporeshade, Downykit is doing his best to keep a happy face, being the light and the love of the clan. After all, the reason they all banded together was to keep him safe. He's a charming little guy, and frequently wants to play with the older cats.

He can't wait to be a warrior, and is hoping he's apprenticed to Stemspots in particular.

Though I have not drawn her, here's our Starclan guide and Downykit's mom, Sporeshade.

First moon will be uploaded in a few days time.

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