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kaayyyys · 2 days ago

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omggg can we have more of daryl giving his vest for reader wear?? hes such a cutie😭

OMG I'M INLOVE WITH THIS IDEA

I love when men give their clothes to people it's so romantic

The Vest

The Georgia sun beat down with relentless fury, turning the already humid air into a thick, suffocating blanket. Sweat plastered strands of hair to your forehead as you trudged alongside Daryl, the familiar weight of your pack a dull ache on your shoulders. It had been a long, fruitless scavenging run. The shelves of the abandoned grocery store had been picked clean weeks ago, and the meager rations you'd managed to scrounge barely justified the risk.

Daryl, as always, moved with a quiet competence. His senses were perpetually on high alert, his eyes scanning the treeline, his hand never straying far from the crossbow slung across his back. You admired his focus, his unwavering dedication to the group's survival. But sometimes, you wished he would just... relax. Let his guard down, even for a moment.

You'd been traveling with Daryl's group for almost a year now. You'd lost everything before finding them – family, friends, a sense of normalcy that now felt like a distant dream. They’d taken you in, taught you how to survive in this brutal new world, and given you a purpose. Daryl, in particular, had been instrumental in your development. He’d shown you how to track, how to use a knife, how to read the subtle signs of danger in the surrounding woods.

But your connection with Daryl ran deeper than just survival skills. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a quiet comfort in his presence that you couldn't quite explain. You found yourself drawn to his gruff exterior, the way his eyes softened ever so slightly when he looked at you, the rare, fleeting smiles that hinted at the man beneath the hardened survivor.

As you walked, you noticed Daryl’s brow furrowed in concentration. He stopped abruptly, holding up a hand to signal you to halt. He sniffed the air, his gaze fixed on a cluster of trees ahead.

"Somethin' ain't right," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "Stay close."

Adrenaline surged through your veins. You gripped the handle of your own knife, your senses on high alert. Daryl moved forward cautiously, his crossbow raised, his silhouette a stark outline against the fading sunlight.

The attack came without warning. A walker, hidden amongst the dense foliage, lurched forward with a guttural moan. Daryl dispatched it quickly with a well-aimed bolt, but the noise had attracted others. Within seconds, you were surrounded.

You fought back-to-back with Daryl, your movements a practiced dance of survival. You stabbed, slashed, and kicked, adrenaline masking the growing exhaustion. Daryl moved with a brutal efficiency, his crossbow firing with deadly accuracy. But the walkers kept coming, a relentless tide of rotting flesh and decaying bone.

A walker lunged at you, its decaying fingers reaching for your face. You sidestepped, narrowly avoiding its grasp, but lost your footing on the uneven ground. You stumbled backward, your ankle twisting beneath you in a sharp, agonizing pain.

You cried out, the sound lost in the chaotic din of the fight. Daryl whirled around, his eyes widening in concern. He dispatched the walker closest to you with a swift blow to the head, then turned his attention to the remaining horde.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.

"My ankle," you gasped, wincing as you tried to put weight on it. "I think I twisted it."

Daryl cursed under his breath. He knew you couldn't fight like this. He quickly assessed the situation, his mind racing. They were outnumbered, and you were vulnerable. He needed to get you out of here.

With a swift movement, he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him. "Hold on," he growled, his grip firm.

He positioned you behind him, using his own body as a shield against the advancing walkers. He continued to fight, his movements now hampered by the need to protect you. But you could see the determination in his eyes, the unwavering resolve to keep you safe.

As the walkers continued to close in, Daryl knew he needed to create a diversion. He glanced around, searching for anything that could give them an advantage. His eyes landed on a rusted-out pickup truck parked nearby.

"We gotta move," he said, his voice urgent. "Can you walk?"

You nodded, gritting your teeth against the pain. "I can try."

Daryl wrapped his arm around your waist, supporting your weight as you limped towards the truck. He fired his crossbow, creating a path through the walkers, then shoved you towards the open driver's side door.

"Get in," he ordered. "I'll cover you."

You scrambled into the truck, your heart pounding in your chest. Daryl stood his ground, his crossbow spitting bolts of death, buying you precious time.

Finally, with a final desperate shot, he leaped into the truck beside you. He slammed the door shut, started the engine, and slammed the accelerator. The truck lurched forward, tires spitting gravel as it sped away from the horde.

You clung to the dashboard, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You glanced at Daryl, his face etched with exhaustion and concern.

"You okay?" you asked, your voice trembling.

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "We're clear for now."

He drove in silence for several minutes, his jaw tight, his grip white-knuckled on the steering wheel. You could feel the tension radiating from him, the lingering fear of what had almost happened.

Finally, he pulled the truck to a stop in a secluded clearing, hidden amongst the trees. He cut the engine and turned to face you.

"Let me see your ankle," he said, his voice softer now.

You carefully lifted your leg and showed him your swollen ankle. He examined it gently, his touch surprisingly tender.

"It's sprained," he said. "You ain't gonna be walkin' on that for a while."

He sighed, running a hand through his greasy hair. He knew this was going to make things difficult. They needed to find a safe place to rest, to tend to your injury.

He reached into the back of the truck and pulled out a first-aid kit. He knelt beside you and began to wrap your ankle with a bandage.

As he worked, you watched him, your heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and affection. You were struck by the contrast between his tough exterior and his gentle touch. You knew that beneath the gruffness and the stoicism, he was a deeply caring man.

When he finished bandaging your ankle, he sat back on his heels and looked at you, his eyes searching your face.

"Thank you, Daryl," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "For everything."

He shrugged, his gaze shifting away from yours. "Don't mention it."

But you knew it was more than just "everything." He had risked his life to save you, putting your safety above his own. He had shown you a level of loyalty and devotion that you had never experienced before.

He stood up and walked to the back of the truck. He rummaged around for a moment, then turned back to you, holding something in his hands.

It was his vest. The iconic, leather vest that he wore every single day. The vest that had become a symbol of his strength, his resilience, his identity.

He walked over to you and knelt down again. He held the vest out to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and determination.

"Here," he said, his voice gruff but sincere. "You take this."

You stared at the vest, your mind reeling. You couldn't believe he was offering it to you. It was the most personal thing he owned, a part of him that he rarely shared with anyone.

"Daryl, I can't," you said, shaking your head. "This is yours."

He reached out and took your hand, his fingers brushing against your skin. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

"I want you to have it," he said, his voice firm. "It'll protect you. Keep you safe."

You looked into his eyes, and you saw the depth of his feelings for you. You saw the love, the care, the unspoken emotions that he had kept hidden for so long.

You reached out and took the vest from his hands. The leather was soft and worn, molded to the shape of his body. It smelled of woodsmoke and leather and something else, something uniquely Daryl.

You slipped the vest on, and it felt like you were being wrapped in his arms. It was warm and comforting, a tangible reminder of his presence.

"Thank you," you said, your voice choked with emotion. "I'll cherish it."

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile that lit up his entire face. "I know you will."

He stood up and helped you out of the truck. He led you to a nearby tree and helped you sit down, making you comfortable against the trunk.

He sat down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. He didn't say anything, but you could feel his presence, his warmth, his unwavering support.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes. You were safe, you were loved, and you had Daryl's vest to keep you warm. In this brutal and unforgiving world, you had found something precious, something worth fighting for. You had found love in the apocalypse. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. The vest wasn't just a piece of clothing; it was a promise, a symbol of a connection that ran deeper than words could express. It was a piece of Daryl's heart, now entrusted to yours.

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

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Character File

Name: Castle “Daddy” Alistair Aliases: Daddy, Captain Daddy, Big Daddy Age: 38 Gender and pronouns: AMAB using he/him/his Marital Status: officially unmarried; unofficially – very taken Surviving family: mother, father, sister

Physical description: Standing at 6’3” (190.5 cm) and weighing 225 lbs. (102 kilos) Captain Alistair is all around built strong and thick. Broad shoulders, slight tapering at the waist, and thick thighs. His hair is dark brown, shaved close at the sides and longer at the top – if he allowed it to grow out it would curl. His eyes are a very deep brown with a strong, square jaw and aquiline nose. Teeth are straight and even, though he has prominent canines. (face claim: John Bernthal)

Identifying/Unusual features:

Two facial scars; one across the bridge of his nose and one high on his left cheek. Both required stitches, though they were acquired separately.

Tattoos: The SpecGru symbol on the left side of his chest An ouroboros snake around his left thigh A rook with daisies on his right bicep (for his little sister) A full back pieces of the Grim Reaper with ravens

Two crooked fingers from a break that didn’t set correctly

While he has several scars, the worst of them is crisscrossing circles around his left calf; a steel cord wrapped around it multiple times and almost took the entire leg

Early Childhood:

Castle was born to Clancy and Helena Alastair in Michigan. Clancy had always wanted a boy, so after a difficult delivery, he and Helena were happy to stop at one and focus all their attention on their son. The first twelve years of his life were spent in a quiet suburb that was developed in the 50s.

Clancy owned fifty percent of a construction company that he built from the ground up with a childhood friend. When Castle was old enough, his father began to bring him to construction sites, teaching him the basics of both business and carpentry. Castle grew up with a strong appreciation for hard work and building things from the ground up, instilled by his father. He greatly admired Clancy’s dedication and hands-on approach as a leader.

Castle also had a deep love and respect for his mother, a music teacher at the local high school. She was both charismatic and eccentric, with a love of silly dresses and jewelry. She embodied kindness and compassion without compromising her own self-respect, the people she loved were her whole world. Family was everything to her and Castle feels that she taught him what love truly is.

In middle school, Castle developed something of a temper. Love, he thought, meant protecting his family. Insults or jokes about either of his parents were met with swift and violent responses. He spent many afternoons in the principal’s office (and many nights without dessert) from brawls in the lunchroom or curses traded across classrooms.

In the spring of sixth grade, Clancy got into an accident that left him with permanent damage to his knee and lower back. He chose to sell his half of the company to his business partner, then bought a small farm that he moved his family to that summer. While Castle initially was angry about the move, and angry that he had no say in the matter, he found that he really enjoyed the wide-open spaces and all the animals they now had to tend to.

Seventh grade brought better friends and a better attitude. Working on the farm gave him a physical outlet for all his growing hormones.

That winter brought a little sister.

Clancy’s younger brother (the well-earned black sheep of the family) had had an affair. When his affair partner died of birth-related illness, he was left with an illegitimate child. Neither his affair partner’s family nor his own wife wanted anything to do with the baby. So he brought her to his eldest brother, Clancy.

Even past their prime and with no particular desire for another child, Clancy and Helena took the baby girl in without hesitation. (Though Clancy did kick his younger brother’s ass quite soundly while Castle sneakily watched from the window.) She didn’t even have a name yet. Helena jokingly suggested naming her “Rook” to go with “Castle,” but then their son latched onto the name, and it stuck.

Rook became Castle’s whole world as he helped his parents care for both a baby and their new farm. He often sat with her when he came home from school – kept an eye on her while he did homework, giving his parents a break to take care of things they hadn’t been able to with the baby. While they weren’t technically siblings, they were blood, and Clancy insisted that the age gap between them meant that Castle needed to act responsibly with her. That she would look up to him since he was so much older already.

In high school, he would often walk (or carry) Rook to and from preschool on his way to his own classes. Clancy wanted him to join the football team, and while Castle enjoyed it to an extent, he preferred to be helping at home.

It was in his junior year that he began to seriously consider joining the military. By senior year, he had decided. When he graduated, he went into an ROTC program at the state college an hour away. Once he graduated, he joined the marine corps.

Military Career:

Alistair rose quickly in reputation and rank during his time in the marine corps. A level-headed and disciplined man, he became known for his leadership prowess early on. While not outgoing, he was well-regarded by his comrades and often a morale-booster, excelling in any unit he was placed in. He excelled in stealth and infiltration but had an impressive record as a sniper as well.

Unfortunately, his career was cut short when information leaked on a high-risk mission. The mission was a failure, with two teammates sacrificing themselves for the sake of the unit. At the safehouse, the remains of the team were ambushed just as exfiltration arrived via helicopter.

While trying to help a comrade up, a steel cord tangled around his leg and nearly dragged him from the aircraft. In the pain and panic, he dropped his teammate to his death. Alistair would have lost his leg if not for the quick response of his sole surviving team member.

Alistair would later discover that very teammate was the one to betray the unit. The man mysteriously disappeared, and Alistair was honorably discharged from service.

A year later, he was recruited for the PMC known as SpecGru.

SpecGru:

Keegan Russ is credited with coining Alistair’s callsign, “Daddy,” though his fellow teammate Nila “Nova” Brown quickly adopted it as well. They claim this is due to Alistair’s close observation, concern for health, and deep protectiveness for his squad. His adaptive and lenient leadership style has endeared him to even the most standoffish of his team – Nikto.

The addition of the fifth and final member to his unit has skyrocketed them to one of the highest success rates in SpecGru.

See him in action!

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #captain daddy #Castle Alistair #OC #my oc #cod oc #Castle “Daddy” Alistair #specgru reader

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soulessjourney · 1 year ago

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Hello love I have a request that I would love you to write!

Cassian or Azriel I am not picky and Y/N

Y/n gets into an argument with Cassian and or Azriel about how they are not attentive, and they’re for them anymore and says that if things don’t change they’re leaving. Things do not change and it is the night that the inner circle goes into Hewn city. at the gala, Eris ask Y/N to dance. And one of the boys is really brooding just standing in a corner just watching YN and Eris dance and then is the part where Taylor goes. “I can see you staring honey like he’s just your understudy like you get your knuckles, bloody for me” I want their eyes to connect from across the dance floor. That would be great. then I am giving you full creative freedom with the undertones of exile by Taylor Swift. give me all the angst you can give the more the better.

I absolutely love this idea! I hope that I live up to your expectations and provided enough angst to feed that burning hunger of yours! Also apologies that it has taken me so long, in all honesty I kept forgetting what I was writing and I wanted it to be PERFECT.

Exile

Paring: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: Azriel starts to distance himself from you. Fed up with his disappearing acts, you confront him, only for it to end in driving you away entirely.

Warnings: Angst (and lots of it), Fighting, Language, Hurt and comfort (from Mor)

If there was one thing Azriel was known for, it was his dedication to his work and his undying loyalty to Rhysand. He was also your mate, someone who meant the entire world to you. You had met Azriel about two hundred years ago when you started your bakery. He came in after watching you struggle with carrying the large bags of flour, extending a helping hand. Since then, he started coming daily to see what new goods you were cooking up, and that's when he asked you on your first date.

The first date was a bit awkward as he shied away, speaking in such a hushed tone that you had to repeatedly ask him to repeat himself. Despite Azriel's strength, you loved his shy side. There was something so docile and soft about it, and you were the only one who truly got to see that side of him.

When the bond snapped into place, both of you were fighting over who would mix the flour, ending with both of you covered from head to toe. It was when he heard your infectious laugh that he felt it, and it was obvious when you gave him that loving gaze he was drawn to. Your eyes were so soft, and your smile was wide. So, that evening, you made him his favorite treat and offered it to him, which soon led to Azriel making sure Rhysand got it through Cassian’s head that you two were not to be bothered for a few weeks.

Those were the moments you missed more than anything. You missed curling up with Azriel as you read the same book, often sharing your reactions. You missed hiding from him to scare him, only to fail the moment his shadows shot out to greet you after a long day. You missed your mate, and your happy memories felt like a fever dream. He was starting to become a distant memory, and part of you wasn’t even sure if you wanted to put up a fight.

You couldn't recall the last time you had spent more than a few moments with him. Lately, he had been staying at the House of Wind to be closer to Rhysand, ready for any last-minute missions that might arise. Initially, you didn't mind, considering Rhysand's frequent missions, especially when Feyre was pregnant and needed his support. However, what began to trouble you was that he never invited you to join him, nor did he visit your shared home to see you.

Then you heard about the time he started spending with Elain. You weren't bothered by her, as you couldn't blame her for shutting everyone out. Her entire life had been stripped away in a matter of moments, and now she was essentially immortal, with a mate forced upon her. However, understanding also brought weariness. You could sense that she had developed feelings for your mate, and Azriel, being who he is, most likely was unaware of the affection she held towards him. Strangely, this knowledge made you want to be around him more, but you didn't know how to navigate the situation.

Azriel had been a significant presence in your life, and the sensation of him slipping away was something you loathed. At some point, he had closed off the bond, making it nearly impossible to reach out to him through it. Running your hands over your face, you attempted to dispel the exhaustion before deciding to visit the House of Wind to ensure Azriel was at least alive.

Your arrival at the House of Wind did not go unnoticed. Cassian, upon spotting you ascending to the training area, made your presence known. "Y/N! You're here. We've been wondering when you would show up. We were starting to think you didn't like us," he teased, capturing everyone's attention.

Clearing your throat, you offered him a small smile as the breeze tousled your hair. "Yeah, things have been hectic at the bakery. Have you seen Azriel? It's been hard to find him lately," you inquired, noticing Cassian's expression contorting into one of pure confusion.

"What do you mean? He said he was with you this morning," Cassian replied, scrutinizing your every move. Dread began to fill your body as the realization that Azriel had even been deceiving the others dawned on you.

Forcefully laughing, you scratched the back of your head, clearing your throat. "No, he was! By 'lately,' I meant during the day since he's usually all over because of the missions Rhys keeps assigning him," you explained, even your forced smile fading as Cassian's gaze filled with concern and pity.

"Y/N, Rhys hasn't assigned him anything for a while, not after what happened with Feyre and your injury. Rhys wanted him to be around you more because of that close call. Are you telling me you haven't seen him?" Cassian inquired, raising a brow and challenging you to lie. By now, the entire area had cleared out except for Nesta, who stood in the background watching you and Cassian, her jaw tense. She knew something, and you would extract it from her if necessary.

"No, I haven't. I mean, he comes home once in a blue moon, but then he just sleeps in the guest room, and he's gone by the time I wake up," you admitted, your shoulders sagging. "I really miss him, Cass. The nightmares are starting to return. He's not avoiding me because he blames himself for what happened, right?" Just a few months ago, Azriel had angered someone, resulting in a dagger being firmly lodged in your side. Recalling that moment, you realized Azriel wasn't present when Cassian and Feyre found you on the floor of the bakery's kitchen that morning.

You heard Nesta curse before she joined Cassian's side. "I spoke to the idiot already, and I thought I got through to him. He's with Elain in the garden. I saw them just before training started, and considering how often they spend time there, he should still be there," she divulged, her expression shifting from anger to guilt. You wanted to be furious, but part of you couldn't muster the anger towards her. Nesta had tried her best to handle the situation discreetly, but with her knowing, you wondered just how long Azriel had been sneaking around with Elain while deceiving the rest of his family.

You hadn’t heard anything else Nesta had said as your feet carried you through the house. Just as you turned the corner, you collided with a solid chest, causing you to stumble back. Looking up, you sucked in a deep breath as your eyes locked with a pair of hazel ones. "Azriel," you breathed, reaching out towards him. Your hand fell to your side when he pulled away from you. "I've missed you. You're never around anymore," your voice thick with emotion as you struggled to say anything beyond the standard 'I miss you'.

Azriel glanced over your shoulder, his expression hardening. "You're not supposed to be here. Why are you here?" His eyes eventually met yours as a scoff escaped your mouth. You hadn’t seen your mate for the past few weeks, and that’s what he had to say to you? That you weren’t supposed to be there, trying to ensure he was alive?

"You're joking, right? Azriel, I haven’t seen you for weeks, and that’s all you have to say? A hello would’ve been nice at least," you snapped, crossing your arms. Rolling his eyes, he turned on his heel and began to walk away. "No, you don’t get to walk away from me, Azriel. That’s not fair. You don’t get to pull a disappearing act without some sort of explanation. You don’t get to lie to your family and expect not to get caught," you snapped, following after him. As the two of you entered the dining area, you missed the others sitting at the table, their conversations cut short as you stomped after Azriel.

Azriel stopped and spun towards you, his wings flaring slightly. "My gods, Y/N, can’t you just get off my back? I’m not going to be there every single second of the day with you. You need to learn how to live without me for once in your life." Any sound that filled the room suddenly fell silent as you took a step back, feeling as though he had slapped you.

"Oh, shit." Looking around, you came face to face with your family, all silent as they watched you. Nesta was glaring daggers at Azriel, while Cassian and Rhysand were positioned to intervene if things went south. Mor and Feyre looked at you, their faces filled with guilt. Then there was Elain, sitting there with the audacity to appear clueless about what was happening. Your entire family was there to witness the potential downfall of your relationship with Azriel. Great.

"What's your issue, Y/N? Why are you on my case today? I haven’t done anything to deserve this nagging. Gods, it’s like after you healed, you became an overbearing mess," Nesta slammed her hands down on the table and stood, prompting Cassian to grab hold of her to prevent her from lunging at Azriel across the room.

A dry laugh escaped you as you narrowed your eyes. “Overbearing? Azriel, you haven’t been around in weeks! You can’t even stand to be in the same room as me. And overbearing? Day to day, I have to deal with the people you anger, and I constantly fear for my life because of your job. I took a damn dagger to the side and almost died because of your job. I’m sorry if accepting you for who you are and your job is overbearing. I’m sorry that worrying for you is just so awful. You’ve changed, Azriel, and I don’t know if it’s because of the damn elephant in the room or if you’ve simply given up. I’m tired of dealing with the nightmares alone, and I want you back by my side when I wake up screaming because I constantly feel that dagger ripping me apart.” Tears streamed down your face as you looked around.

Rhysand had slowly made his way towards you with Mor by his side, the two members of this family, besides Cassian, whom you trusted with your life. Glaring down at the ground, you looked up at Azriel, your face void of any emotion. “If you can’t clean up your act, I’m done.” Azriel froze as a flood of fear slammed into you. He slipped, and you could tell the moment he slammed those walls back up.

“Clean up my act? You’re the one to talk. It’s like ever since you woke up, you became afraid of the world all over again. You shouldn’t need us to walk you to work and back. You shouldn’t need us hanging around the store all day just because you’re scared of someone showing up. I can’t stand to have a mate who is so fearful of the world.” You dropped your shoulders in defeat at his words. It was true; after what happened, you had been terrified of being in that shop, fearing they would come back and finish the job.

Rhysand was next to you in a second, followed by Mor, who caught you as your knees gave out. “That is no way to speak to your mate, Azriel,” Rhysand spat. “You sat around moping because you wanted one. The Mother blesses you with one, and this is how you thank her? Seriously?” Rhysand crossed his arms, the room noticeably darkening.

“Well, maybe she made a mistake. Maybe Y/N isn’t supposed to be my mate. We have nothing in common, meanwhile, Elain and I do.” The moment the words left his mouth, your head snapped in Elain’s direction as you clenched your jaw.

Looking back at Azriel, you shook your head. “I mean it, Azriel. If you can’t clean up your act, I’m done. Don’t bother looking for me until you figure out your mess. I’m done,” you spat, winnowing from your very spot into your room. Grabbing a duffel bag, you began to cram things into it just as you heard footsteps sprinting down the hall towards your door, and the echoes of voices calling out to the owner of those steps.

As Azriel threw open the door, you looked at him as he reached out for you, his mouth opening to say something. Before you could hear what he had to say, you disappeared, leaving him standing in the middle of your room.

---

It had been a month since you chose to seclude yourself in Mor's guest bedroom. As the door slowly opened, light flooded into the dark room, and Mor stepped inside. Sitting on the bed, she gently rubbed your back to draw your attention. "Hey there, sweetheart. It's time to get you out of this room. Velaris has started to notice your absence now that the bakery is closed," she said softly, sensing your reluctance. "He still asks about you, but he's also spending more time with her. Rhys has tried talking sense into him, Cassian kicked his ass, and the girls have been giving him the cold shoulder. I'm sorry, my love, but perhaps attending the Gala in Hewn City would do you good," she suggested, brushing your hair away from your face gently.

You nodded and turned onto your side to look at her, a small frown forming on your lips. Mor's gaze softened as she sighed softly. "Come, I want to show you something," she said, gently pulling you out of bed. Standing up, you followed her out of the room toward another one just down the hall. Mor pushed the door open, revealing a mannequin adorned with a stunning deep purple gown featuring delicate beadwork climbing the bodice. The main skirts bore the design of a tree and leaves, with the beads on the skirt representing flowers. It was the most beautiful gown you had ever seen.

"I had it made for you to wear tonight. You deserve to look and feel beautiful. Azriel is taking you for granted. With your beauty and eyes that could bring a man to his knees, this dress is perfect for you," Mor whispered from behind you, resting her hands on your shoulders gently.

A wide smile graced your lips for the first time in a month as you turned to face Mor. "Thank you, Mor. Truly, it means a lot to me that you did this," your words were soft and heartfelt. A sense of brokenness lingered within you, the result of Azriel's neglect over the past month, compounded by the knowledge of his time spent with Elain. Mor guided you to the bathroom, where she helped you into the tub and began to wet and wash your hair.

"You know, we’re all upset with him for treating you like this. Yes, Elain needed help before, but even Nesta started to reprimand him for spending too much time with her. I remember when he first came home after meeting you. He was covered in flowers and had the biggest grin on his face. He couldn't stop talking about you, and Cassian often had to beg him to stop. But then, after one of his missions went awry and you got hurt, everything changed. He refused to see you, or even go near that part of the house. And then he kissed Elain. I thought Nesta was going to tear him to shreds. After that, he began lying to us about spending time with you, even after Rhysand practically forced him out of the garden." Mor's words pierced through you, mentioning the kiss shattered your fragile emotional state.

A wave of despair washed over you. Shoulders slumping, you gazed down at the water surrounding your bare form. "Do you think he still loves me?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty. Mor took a deep breath, visibly caught off guard by your question. She hummed softly as she poured water over your head, grappling for the right words.

"I'm sure he does. Azriel is complex, we all know that. For centuries, he's prayed to The Mother for a mate. I heard him whispering a prayer every night until he met you. Then it turned into begging her to ensure your safety. Azriel tends to shut down and push away those closest to him when he's struggling to cope. He avoided Rhysand when he returned from Amarantha's clutches. His treatment of you isn't fair, but I genuinely don't know how to reach him anymore." Mor cleared her throat, rising to her feet. "I'll leave you to dry off and get into a robe. When you're ready, come downstairs, and I'll help you dress and do your hair," she offered with a comforting smile, squeezing your shoulder before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It didn’t take long for you to exit the tub once the water turned cold. After drying off your body, you slipped on a black silk robe and began to towel dry your hair. As you made your way towards the stairs, you made a mental note to find a way to thank Mor for everything she had done for you. Nearing the bottom of the steps, you froze upon hearing Mor engaged in a conversation with someone. Peeking around the corner, you spotted Azriel standing with his back to you in the middle of the living room, while Mor stared at him with an intense gaze. “She thinks you don’t love her, Azriel. You’ve pushed her to the brink of giving up,” she snapped, causing him to tense at her words.

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words to say. “I do, I just... I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for a month, and I’m starting to go crazy, Mor. I don’t know what to do about it anymore, and it feels like everything I say comes out wrong,” he confessed. You noticed his shadows lurking in the room, beginning to slither their way towards you.

“And what about the kiss, Azriel? You kissed Elain while your own mate was at home, thinking you were off on some mission Rhysand assigned to you,” Mor jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “You gave up, and she kept pushing. This is your doing, and you need to figure it out. She was serious when she told you to clean up your act. Right now, you’re showing her you’ll never change, not after you hadn’t even bothered to come see her for a month knowing she was here. You pushed her aside for Elain. It’s time you finally accept the consequences of your actions, Azriel. If you lose her for good, that’ll be on you.” Before Azriel could respond, he tensed and turned towards you, his eyes widening.

Allowing your gaze to fall into a blank expression, you looked at Mor. “I’m ready,” your voice came out as a whisper, and Mor nodded, shoving past Azriel. You both made your way back up the stairs, leaving Azriel standing alone in the middle of the room. Once again, you were just out of his reach, and once again, he was on the verge of losing you for good.

---

The gala was breathtaking. Witnessing the courts gathering together always brought you immense joy. Tamlin made his way towards you, a wide smile on his face. “Y/N! It’s good to see you again. We've been missing your baked goods dearly,” he grinned, prompting a laugh from you. Born in the Spring court, you had grown close to Tamlin, and it was there that you honed your baking skills while growing up. When the time came for you to seek a new path, Tamlin had let you go, assuring you that you would always have a home to return to.

When Azriel pulled his disappearing acts, leaving you alone with your thoughts, you often debated returning to Spring, where you knew you had a family who would welcome you with open arms. “Thank you, Tamlin. If I'm ever permitted, I’ll be sure to bring you some of my cookies that you drooled over,” you teased, brushing a curl away from your shoulder.

Tamlin looked around, a questioning look flashing across his face. “Where’s your mate? The last time you and I talked, he was glued to your side.” Your eyes dulled slightly as you shrugged. You hadn’t seen Azriel all evening, though you knew he was here as you were constantly followed by a shadow.

Before you could respond, Eris made his appearance, as fashionable as ever. “Y/N, you truly outdid yourself this time. You look absolutely breathtaking in that dress. Shall we have a dance?” Without waiting for your answer, Eris grabbed your hand and led you towards the dance floor, where bodies swirled in a mesmerizing pattern. You and Eris fell into an easy rhythm as he looked down at you. “Sorry to drag you away from Tamlin, but I couldn’t help but notice how sad you looked. Is it because of your mate?” His eyes bore into yours as you sucked in a deep breath.

“It would be a mistake to lie to you,” you grumbled, earning a laugh of agreement from him. “Azriel and I haven’t talked for a good while. He’s been busy with other things,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. As you both spun, you caught sight of him standing in the corner of the room, watching you. Your eyes hardened as they locked onto his.

Eris cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to him. “You know, if you need a break from your home, you can stay in my court. We obviously have the room, and I can make sure you get the space you need to think. As much as Morrigan hates me, she’s worried about you to the point where she asked me for help.” Studying his gaze, it wasn’t hard to tell that he was being genuine.

Looking towards Azriel again, you studied him, your eyes narrowing as Elain walked up to him, handing him a glass. Biting back your tears, you let your walls down, throwing every ounce of anger, betrayal, sadness, and fear at him. You watched as he stumbled back slightly, his hand flying up over his chest, his eyes locking onto yours. You watched as Elain reached out to him, running her hand over his arm as she tried to check on him. Eris stopped moving as he stood next to you, watching the interaction between the both of them. “Just say the word, and I can take you away from here,” he whispered.

You waited for him to brush off Elain, but he didn’t. He let her hand rest on his cheek as he kept his eyes on yours, his eyes widening. “He doesn’t care about me anymore, Eris. Take me to your court,” you said, looking up at Eris, who only nodded. You didn’t miss how he glanced at Rhysand and the others, giving them a small nod. You didn’t miss how their shoulders sagged in defeat once they realized you were leaving. You didn’t miss how the crowd began to part as Azriel raced towards you, dropping to his knees in front of you. You watched as his body shook with sobs, how he begged you to stay, begged you to stay by his side. “Where were you when I begged The Mother to bring you back to me? Where were you when I was dying on the kitchen floor of my own bakery after taking a knife for you? Where were you when I woke up screaming for you? Go back to Elain, Azriel. You made your decision.” With that, you turned to Eris, giving him a small nod. With that, the both of you walked away, leaving Azriel on the ground sobbing into his hands before he disappeared from your sight as the crowd closed behind you.

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the-offside-rule · 10 months ago

Text

Fernando Alonso (Aston Martin) - I Don't Wanna Live Forever

Requested: no

Swift Series

Warnings: age gap, cursing, forbidden love, cliffhanger

*he's fine asf in this gif*

Fernando sighed contently as he walked through the paddock, the all too familiar buzz of a new season on the horizon. The new season was about to begin, and with it came new challenges, new cars, and, as he had just been informed, a new assistant. His previous assistant had moved on, and Fernando was curious about the person who would now be helping him navigate the whirlwind of his career. He walked into the new hospitality, looking around at the slick interior design of the building. He looked over to see his PR manager stood up, waving towards him. He smiled, walking over towards him. "Alright Fernando, how's it going?" She asked as he hugged her. "Yeah, pretty good. Yourself?" She smiled. "I'm doing well. I actually wanted to introduce you to someone-" She paused, turning to the young woman stood behind her. "Fernando, meet Y/n. She'll be your new assistant."

Y/n extended a hand with a confident smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alonso. I'm excited to work with you." Fernando shook her hand, noting her firm grip and steady gaze. "Please, call me Fernando. And welcome to the team." Y/n nodded, mentally noting the informal tone. "Thank you, Fernando. I've already familiarized myself with your schedule and preferences. If there's anything specific you need or any adjustments, just let me know." Fernando was impressed. "I appreciate that. It's a demanding job, but I'm sure you'll handle it well."

As the days went by, Y/n quickly adapted to the fast-paced environment of Formula 1. She managed Fernando's schedule with precision, coordinated media engagements seamlessly, and ensured he had everything he needed before and after races. Her efficiency and calm demeanor under pressure did not go unnoticed by Fernando. One afternoon, during a break between practice sessions, Fernando found Y/n in the team lounge, engrossed in her laptop. "How are you finding everything so far?" He asked, sitting down across from her. Y/n looked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "It's intense, but I love it. The energy, the speed, the team, it's all very exciting." Fernando smiled. "That's good to hear. It's important to have someone who enjoys the chaos as much as the rest of us."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

While Fernando was no stranger to the hectic life of a racing driver, he found a peculiar comfort in the presence of his assistant, Y/n. She was efficient, calm under pressure, and always seemed to know exactly what he needed. Over time, Fernando had developed feelings for Y/n, but he kept them hidden, fearing it would complicate their professional relationship. Y/n, on the other hand, had admired Fernando since the day they started working together. His dedication, passion, and charisma made it hard not to fall for him. But, like Fernando, Y/n kept these feelings concealed, believing it was best to maintain their professional demeanor.

This particular day had been nothing short of exhausting with back-to-back media obligations. Interviews, photoshoots, and press conferences filled the schedule, leaving little time to breathe. Fernando signed the final cap and packed it off to the side. He looked out the window, the sun had set, and the team was packing up. "Finally." He sighed. "Y/n!" Fernando called out. Y/n peered in the door. "Done?" He nodded. "Perfect. You can leave them there, and I'll get them to marketing first thing tomorrow." She said walking towards him. His eyes wandered down her body. He stopped himself, feeling bad. "Stay back for a bit, would you? I think we both could use a drink."

"I can't. You have media day tomorrow, and I think a good nights sleep would do you best." Fernando sat back in the chair. "Come on. Just one." Surprised but curious, Y/n agreed. "Sure, Fernando. A drink sounds good." He smirked. "That didn't take too much convincing."

Fernando stood up and headed downstairs, grabbing a bottle of red wine and twk glasses before making his way back up to the office. "I hope you like wine." He chuckled. She sighed. "Not really, but it's a drink from the Fernando Alonso, so who can complain?" He closed the blinds, trying to block out the world, away from the prying eyes of fans and journalists. Fernando poured the glass and handed it to her, before taking his own. They sipped at their drinks, and for a while, they sat in comfortable silence, savouring the moment of peace. "Do you mind if I ask you something?" Y/n nodded. "Shoot."

"How did you end up in the world of Formula 1?" Fernando asked, genuinely interested. Y/n smiled, taking a sip of the drink. "It was a bit of a twist of fate, really. I always loved motorsports, and when the opportunity came up to work with a team, I took it. And here I am. I didn't think I'd be working for you, though." His brows furrowed. "How come?" She shrugged. "I always loved watching you growing up, so it just seems a bit surreal, I guess." He groaned. "What?" She chuckled. "You're making me sound old." He replied. "You're not that old."

"I am 43 years old. That's old." She eyed up his lips subtly, her finger tracing the rim of her glass. "I don't think so, but okay." Fernando nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/n's. "You're 25. You have no say in this."

As the night went on, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about their childhoods, their passions, and their dreams. The more they shared, the more they realized how much they had in common. "Sometimes, I wonder what life would be like if I hadn't decided to race." Fernando admitted, a rare moment of vulnerability. Y/n reached out, placing a hand on his. "I think you'd still be the same incredible person, just a little less stressed." Fernando's heart raced at the touch. "Yes, but I wouldn't have met all the people I have. We wouldn't have met." Y/n's breath caught. "You'd live without me." Fernando took a deep breath, his eyes locking with Y/n's. "I don't think I could." Y/n's heart swelled. "Fernando -" Fernando leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously close to hers. Their eyes scanned each other, both wondering if they should move closer or simply walk away and pretend it hadn't happened.

Y/n's eyes fluttered shut as Fernando's lips met theirs in a tender kiss. The world around them faded, leaving just the two of them in that moment. She set her glass to the side, her hand flying up to his face, pulling him in closer. He felt euphoric. She was everything he could have asked for and more. He deepened the kiss, pushing her back until she was laying on the couch. Her hands roamed under his Aston Martin shirt, trailing up his tone back. He loved it,every touch, every sound she made below him, he loved it all. That was, until Y/n came to her senses and pulled away. "Wait, stop!"

Fernando's heart sank as she pulled away. "We can't. I can't. It could ruin your career, and it could cost me my job. I've worked too hard for this job for it to be thrown away over a stupid kiss." His brows furrowed. "A stupid kiss?? Is that what you would call this?" She stood up, straightening her skirt out. "I say it as it is. It was a mistake, and it will remain that way. It has to." Fernando shook his head, his eyes pleading. "Y/n, listen. I like you, I like you a lot. I don't care about the risks. I care about you." Y/n looked at him, unsure. Unsure if he was telling the truth or if he was drunk. "I care about you too, but we have to be realistic. This-" She pointed between them both. "This could destroy everything we've worked for." Fernando took her hands in his, his grip firm but gentle. "I'm willing to do anything for you, Y/n. You're worth everything to me." She sighed, closing the door behind her and leaving the spaniard there, drunk, alone and pondering.

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Y/n lay in bed, the soft glow of the city lights seeping through the curtains and casting delicate patterns on the walls. Despite the late hour, sleep eluded her. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of the kiss she shared with Fernando earlier that evening. She could still feel the warmth of his lips, the gentle yet passionate way he had held her. She sighed and turned onto her side, pulling the blankets tighter around her. But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t shake the image of his face, the intensity in his eyes as they parted. Tossing and turning, she fought against the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.

Finally, unable to bear the restlessness any longer, Y/n sat up, her heart racing with indecision. Should she go to him? Confront these feelings head-on? She hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. But the pull was too strong, the need for clarity too overwhelming. Taking a deep breath, she threw the covers aside and slipped out of bed. She threw on her cardiganHer footsteps were light, almost silent, as she reached her door. Her heart pounded with every step, the anticipation building.

Reaching for her door, she paused, her hand hovering just inches from the wood. She closed her eyes, gathering her courage, then reached for the handle and opened it, her eyes widened in surprise. There stood Fernando. He was dressed as he was earlier, as if he had been up and about, unable to sleep just like her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions. “Y/n…” he breathed, taking a step closer. “I-"

It didnt take long for her to wrap her arms around his necl and lock her lips with his again. She had needed this. He pulled away first, looking deep into her eyes. "I need to tell you-"

"Tell me in the morning. I need you now."

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 oneshots #fernando alonso x y/n #fernando alonso x oc #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x female reader #fernando alonso imagines #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso fanfic #Fernando alonso x yn #fernando alonso

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covid-safer-hotties · 10 months ago

Text

Yes, there's hope in the fight against Long Covid.

Hope doesn't come in the form of natural immunity or subpar vaccines rolled out after waves of illness have already peaked. It comes in the form of clean indoor air, widespread masking, and better treatments. In that vein, the NIH is finally launching a new batch of clinical trials focused on Long Covid, five total, dedicated to different aspects of the condition. Institutes like Mount Sinai are running clinical trials on repurposed HIV drugs. So is HealthBio, a startup working on immune diseases. (They're testing maraviroc and atorvastatin.) Post-Viral Trials News is sharing updates as they roll in. Of course, the NIH and FDA need steady pressure to make sure they're funding trials that focus on a range of options. Given the urgency of the crisis, we should be doing far more. As Harvard economist David Cutler has said on developing treatments for Long Covid, "There is no amount that's overdoing it." We're talking about a $16 trillion crisis.

We're talking about an urgent need for dozens of expedited clinical trials for drugs that already exist, which have shown effectiveness in preventing and treating Long Covid in its various incarnations. We're talking about making those drugs accessible right now for off-label use, so that Covid survivors can finally get the help they need.

Long Covid is an emergency.

We're going to talk about prescription treatments first, and then supplements and extracts you can find yourself. Up front, you can try services like RTHM and CURE ID that aim to connect patients with treatments without endless waits. (I'm not endorsing them. I'm just telling you they exist.)

Let's dig in.

Healthcare largely abandoned monoclonal antibodies during the first Omicron wave, but some of them remain effective in higher doses as postviral therapies. We've also found new ones. For example: A study in Nature offers 5B8 as a therapy for fibrinogen, a protein in your body that binds to the Covid spike protein during infection. Afterward, that protein starts to behave differently, "forming pro-inflammatory blood clots" that lead to cardiac and brain dysfunction, especially in young patients with mild infections. It also suppresses your natural killer cells, weakening your immune system. So, damaged fibrinogen is the culprit behind a lot of the "mysterious" health problems we're seeing.

As the authors show, "fibrin-targeting immunotherapy may represent a therapeutic intervention for patients with acute Covid-19 and Long Covid." The monoclonal antibody 5B8 "provides protection...without adverse effects." The sooner you get it, the better it works.

A 2024 study in the American Journal of Emergency Medicine also found that the monoclonal antibody regeneron helped Long Covid survivors recover. Researchers "expressed surprise at the swift and comprehensive improvements observed in the patients," adding that "regardless of the duration of their Long Covid experience, significant progress was noted within a mere 5 days of receiving the Regeneron treatment." It might work because it helps your immune system eliminate residual amounts of virus or viral fragments, or it might replace damaged antibodies that attack your cells.

A 2022 study found that another monoclonal antibody, Sotrovimab, helped survivors with persistent viral loads after initial infection who were still reporting fatigue, chest pain, and trouble breathing months after infection. As the researchers note, the patients showed "rapid improvement of symptoms and inflammation markers as well as negative swabs."

Yet another 2022 study in Clinical Infectious Diseases found that a monoclonal antibody treatment called Leronlimab could help Long Covid patients recover by boosting their immune system in cases where Covid downregulated it, causing a drop in their CCR5 levels, a receptor found on a range of cells that fight pathogens, including your CD4 lymphocytes.

The Long Covid Action Project is also developing a list of drugs that desperately need clinical trials and faster deployment. They stress the need for monoclonal antibodies and antivirals like pemivibart, azvudine, ensitrelvir (Xocova), and sofosbuvir. They'll be releasing a full list later this year.

So while these monoclonal antibodies might not save your life during early infection, they can help your recovery.

There should be more clinical trials and off-label use.

Interferon treatments, specifically Interferon-Lambda, have shown the potential to help with immune system problems and cognitive deficits (caused by brain inflammation) after Covid infections.

Also:

A 2022 study in Frontiers in Immunology found that high doses of immunoglobulin have shown "a significant to remarkable clinical benefit" in treating a full range of brain, heart, and lung problems in Long Covid patients. A major 2023 study in Frontiers in Neuroscience confirmed that immunoglobulin lead to significant improvement in neurological problems. As researchers in a third study on immunoglobulins and Long Covid state, we already use this therapy to treat a variety of chronic inflammatory diseases, as well as flu, HIV, and measles. (The NIH has included immunoglobulins in their new clinical trials.)

HIV drugs have also shown promise for helping Long Covid patients. A 2023 study in Clinical Infectious Diseases found that Tenofovir reduced someone's Covid risk regardless of whether they had HIV. A range of studies have supported the use of Tenofovir, Darunavir Ethanolate, and Azvudine for Covid. As we noted earlier, clinical trials are currently testing HIV drugs for Long Covid.

Another study in Antiviral Research found that cobicistat, used to boost HIV antivirals, also fights Covid and leads to a significant reduction in overall risk. The researchers found that higher doses work better. They also found that higher doses work better for ritonavir, one of the key components of Paxlovid. By the way, ritonavir has been used in HIV treatments since the mid-1990s.

The research on repurposed HIV drugs points to the potential of many antiretroviral therapy (ART) medications for Long Covid, given that viral persistence plays a large role in most cases.

When you consider that Paxlovid itself contains an HIV antiviral, it sounds a little less extreme to compare Covid to HIV and discuss repurposing existing drugs.

Finally, studies have shown that molnupiravir and metformin have shown effectiveness against Covid. In particular, a 2024 study in Clinical Infectious Diseases found that metformin prescribed in the early stages of a Covid infection led to a 41 percent drop in Long Covid risk.

Other research has revealed that sometimes it takes a combination of these drugs to help patients recover. In a 2022 study in Clinical Infectious Diseases, researchers used nanopore technology to identify the specific variants patients were infected with and select the most effective treatments for that variant. In one case, a Long Covid patient with severe Paxlovid rebound only got better after doctors prescribed Paxlovid again and added remdesivir. Nobody had thought to try that yet.

It worked.

These are the drugs that demand renewed attention and clinical trials, given that most research on Long Covid points to ongoing infection, viral persistence, and the disruption of your immune system, which could mean a downregulated or weakened immune system or an overactive one. We especially need clinical trials that match drugs with specific conditions.

Specialists are going to decide the right dose for prescription drugs. Generally, the research indicates that if a standard dose doesn't work, a higher dose might as long as it doesn't trigger side effects. A combination of drugs can work when a single drug fails.

What can you do if you don't have access to these drugs?

This:

A major 2023 study in Cells found that eriodictyol, a flavonoid extracted from yerba santa, can help with the brain inflammation caused by Covid infections that leads to cognitive deficits and fatigue. Researchers have found that at least part of the "brain fog" from Long Covid happens when the virus triggers immune cells to attack the brain. Eriodictyol can also be derived from citrus fruits, tomatoes, and grapes. As the authors explain, a range of flavonoids "have been reported to prevent neuroinflammation, provide neuroprotection, and reduce cognitive dysfunction, especially brain fog."

The authors of the Cell study list flavanoids liposomal luteolin, oleuropein, and sulforaphane as all beneficial for recovering brain function. They identify formulas called BrainGain and FibroProtek containing flavonoids that helped Long Covid patients with severe brain fog in previous studies. Those contain luteolin. They ultimately recommend ViralProtek, which combines several flavonoids, "alone or together" with eriodictyol.

These formulas aren't just managing symptoms. According to the studies, they're helping you clear viral remnants and rehabilitate your immune system. They inhibit your microglia and mast cells, immune cells that often drive the brain inflammation behind Long Covid cognitive problems.

What else?

A 2022 study in Molecules found promise in nattokinase, "a popular traditional Japanese food made from soybeans fermented by Bacillus subtilis var." Not so coincidentally, nattokinase also "decreases the plasma levels of fibrinogen," the same protein that drives thrombosis in Long Covid patients and indeed "has drawn central attention in thrombolytic drug studies," as well as tumor treatment. It also inhibits the replication of bovine herpes virus. Clinical trials have found no adverse effects from eating natto. In this particular study, the researchers found that nattokinase degrades the Covid spike protein, inhibiting infection. As they conclude, "nattokinase and natto extracts have potential effects on the inhibition of SAS-cOv-2 host cell entry."

Martha Eckey describes natto extracts in more detail here, along with benefits, recommended dosage, and possible side effects. Respondents to her survey reported the best results when they took Solaray's natto extract along with serrapeptase, an enzyme and commonly used drug in Japan and Europe that helps your body break down proteins. A large number of patients reported improvement after taking the natto-serra combination, often within a week or two. Many of them also benefited from adding lumbrokinase, an enzyme shown to facilitate healing.

Like natto, lumbrokinase breaks down fibrin. We're seeing a theme here. Any kind of treatment that breaks down fibrin, whether it's a monoclonal antibody or an enzyme, helps after a Covid infection.

Take a look for yourself:

Eckey discusses cromolyn for brain inflammation and neurological issues, and some people have said it helps with other problems. She also wrote this great post about protecting kids from Long Covid.

A lot of it also applies to adults.

Another surprising study in Viruses from 2021 found that grapeseed extract (V. vinifera) contained dozens of flavonoid compounds that inhibited viral replication, including for Covid. The researchers used concentrations from 500 μg/ml down to 10 μg/ml.

Studies have even found that taurine supplements can do a lot to reduce your Covid risks, including Long Covid. A 2024 study in PLoS One found that the amino acid can serve as both a biomarker and a target for treatment in Long Covid. As they write, taurine has already "shown benefits such as reducing depressive behavior, improving memory, and mitigating age-related issues by addressing cellular senescence, chronic inflammation, DNA damage, and mitochondrial dysfunction." It can play "a potential protective role" in "alleviating the burdens of PCC." If that weren't enough, "taurine supplementation has demonstrated diverse therapeutic properties, including anti-oxidation, anti-aging, antiepileptic, cytoprotective, and cardioprotective effects in many diseases." Yes, even taurine from energy drinks. (And I guess it's a good thing I drink them.)

A standard diet contains about 40-400 mg of taurine per day. Medical use often starts at 6 grams a day.

There's a reason why many of these treatments don't get the attention they deserve, and Timothy Ferriss of all people describes it very well in the opening to The 4-Hour Body. As he learns from talking with a wide range of doctors and medical researchers, the industry frowns on any kind of treatment that doesn't look or feel "elite" enough. There's not a lot of incentive for major research on supplements or cheap, widely available drugs because they're just not cool enough, even if they work. For drug makers, it can't just work. It also has to generate enough profit.

That's what happens when you privatize medicine.

As a society, we have to overcome that. This shortcoming isn't going to help us address the myriad public health challenges of the future.

It's a little ironic that the catchphrase "do your own research," once levied against anti-vaxxers, is now used to insult Long Covid survivors and advocates who are trying desperately to find treatments. The difference is that we're not rejecting medicines.

We're simply not getting them.

This article can't replace a doctor or a nutritionist, but it offers a comprehensive starting point for anyone who needs it. You can do more digging and confirm what's here. You could also just make a list of all the things discussed here and take them to someone you trust, and go from there.

It's crucial for us to develop a range of treatments and therapies for Covid that go beyond the mainstream reliance on Paxlovid and vaccines, conveniently dominated by a single pharmaceutical company.

It won't last forever.

In fact, research has shown that Paxlovid leads increasingly to rebound infections in which "the virus can return unimpeded by the drug, bringing the risk of disease and even death."

That's the part left out by corporate media. Rebound doesn't simply mean another round of Paxlovid. It means decreased effectiveness.

It means evasion.

Just like our mediocre vaccines, Covid is developing resistance to Paxlovid. According to an article in Nature, researchers around the world are now quietly racing to develop alternatives. No doubt, viral evolution offers one of the unspoken reasons why many of us find it so hard to access the drug now. The elites are terrified of losing the thing that enables their denial and wishful thinking.

Here's what one researcher said:

“This type of approach helped to improve HIV drugs, and we think it’s a good way to improve antivirals against SARS-CoV-2,” says Sho Iketani, PhD, assistant professor of medical sciences at Columbia University’s Vagelos College of Physicians and Surgeons and Aaron Diamond AIDS Research Center, who co-led the research..."

Western countries are well behind the curve on these fronts. Japan now offers a drug called Xocova (ensitrelvir), arguably more effective than Paxlovid, and it's been sitting in the FDA approval queue for about a year. China approved HIV antivirals for Long Covid back in 2022. While some healthcare workers in Europe and North America know about combining and repurposing drugs, many of them are still busy pretending Covid is over.

It's time for government agencies to pull their heads out of the sand and do their jobs. If there had been more urgency over the last four years, and less favoritism toward one or two drug giants, we would already have these treatments deployed. As things stand, we need leaders to not only run these long overdue clinical trials but also prepare to scale up production considerably, while making sure that everyone has access, not just those with platinum insurance plans. We could already be doing that for emergency off-label use now. Why aren't we?

Although it's infuriating and demoralizing it took us so long to get here, it's encouraging to know that teams of scientists around the world have been working on this crisis and producing results. We just need the gates unlocked.

There's no time to waste.

Let's get moving.

#covid #mask up #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #still coviding #public health #wear a respirator

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lovehotelreservation · 5 months ago

Text

Don't You Want Me Like I Want You?

Summary: There was a time when you and Lieutenant Price were as close as could be.

But after one drunken mistake years ago, you've since done everything you could to keep yourself as far away from him as possible.

Up until this particular night.

As his former Captain, you should've known that there was simply no way he would ever give up on hunting you down.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Older F!Reader/Younger!Price (Reader is in her 30s & John is in his 20s)

**Warning: contains age gaps and drunken sex--please take discretion before proceeding!**

hi 🧍‍♀️

recently i had the chance to visit seoul and idk seeing all sorts of soldiers reuniting with their lovers for the holidays + being unable to escape "apt" no matter where i went + continuing to listen to yandere male kouhai x female senpai drama cds resulted in this !!!

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

A sigh left your lips before you gulped down a mouthful of champagne from your glass.

They grow up so fast.

Once near religiously clean-shaven to now sporting a thick, well-groomed mustache. An almost naively optimistic glimmer in the eye to a much more steely and narrowed gaze that only further experiences in life could naturally curate. Tall, lean muscle that had since bulkened into a sinewy pillar of brawn.

To everyone in attendance at tonight's military gala in the heart of London, he was the newly appointed Captain John Price.

But to you, always and more, he was Lieutenant John Price.

Having dedicated most of his life in the military–from the latter half of his adolescence to essentially the entirety of his 20s–, he was primed to be nothing short of legendary in his career. Skilled, resilient, and–most of all–mindful. He could be trusted with Britain’s–nay, the world’s–finest soldiers and see them not just to victory, but safe and sound back home as well. Similarly, he still maintained compassion to the plights of the innocents and the causes of opposing forces, seeking to preserve life as much as he could rather than callously brushing off all as mere collateral damage.

For you, it was the greatest honor to have overseen his growth and development as his superior.

As his Captain.

You could say that it was by fate that the two of you would ever cross paths, but really it was because of Kate.

Kate Laswell, of course.

One of your dearest friends and your longest ally.

With the both of you being among the few women working your way up the ropes within the realm of the military, it was a persistent uphill battle for you both to excel and progress further enough to have your accomplishments inside and outside the field validated. The hardships faced both abroad in volatile territory and within the stifling restraints of bureaucracy had the two of you as close as could be.

And when a job needed swift and efficient execution, she knew she could reliably call upon you.

But then there came a time she needed more help than you could provide.

Enter one John Price.

Whereas you had only a few years difference apart in age with Kate–her being older at that–, you had a full decade over John, who was to serve as the lieutenant to your captain.

While you were used to any of your male counterparts–regardless of their seniority or their status as subordinates–to scoff or sneer at you upon first meeting, he was as respectful as could be.

No smarmy jabs about your capabilities as a woman, no piggish snipes at your age or your looks, no overly critical questioning of your methods.

He abided by your leadership with damn near reverence and even went as far as to bark down at any man–sergeant, lieutenant, corporal–who dared to see you as beneath themselves.

It was the start of a precious friendship, one that spanned across the years and across the world. No matter the mission or location, whether there was need for infiltrating the underbelly of the Triads, disposing of ultranationalist leaders in Russia, thwarting the plans for a full global scale terrorist strike across the world, you and Price made for the perfect pair.

In the sense of a mentor and a student, obviously. You couldn’t even begin to think of tainting such a precious dynamic.

That very same compassion and mindfulness he carried throughout his career was honed and nurtured under your tutelage. Though, you were usually the first to tease him whenever he spoke in such profound one-liners of grandeur.

“Movie star” was one of many nicknames you had for him.

It was just a shame that you could not look at your friendship with fondness in your heart any more.

The reason for such was why you were deep into a bottle of champagne during tonight’s evening affair.

All while you prayed and prayed that no affair of any sort would come about.

You wished you weren’t even here to begin with–especially not while you were doing your best to try and camouflage against one of the gala hall’s many ornamented flower arrangements in a black dress and heels.

It had been a little over 5 years since you both retired and had last seen Price.

While you were more than prepared to have it extend to a full decade, a call from an exasperated Kate had you reluctantly make the trip out to London for tonight’s celebration, with his promotion to captain among the many highlights.

She needed him to take lead of an extensive campaign in Brazil but he had been shockingly adamant in his refusal–albeit with one exception:

“I want to see my Captain again, Laswell.”

The groaned “Katherine” you let out over the phone was burdened and heavy upon hearing her recount his singular term.

Yet while the same couldn’t exactly be said about your current connection with Price, your friendship with Kate was as strong as it ever was and as hesitant as you felt, you agreed to attend.

After all, you simply had to swing by the gala–that didn’t mean you had to talk to Price. He only said he wanted to see you. With how desperately you were trying to utilize every bit of semantics for salvation, you took any chance you could.

Because simply put, there was a conversation that you just didn’t want to have with him.

A follow-up to a night from just shy of 5 years ago that you had been running from all this time.

You had since done your best to blank out the happenings of that evening, but your skin could still feel the phantoms of body heat and muscle haunting over every inch regardless.

Despite all the repressing as you had done across the days, the months, the years, some details were just impossible to completely stamp out:

December in Seoul. Campaign celebration. Your soju. His hotel room.

Drunkenly teaching him a game of mahjong led to the idea of sweetening the prize beyond mere bragging rights between the two of you.

Release a few salacious secrets or help unwind a knot or two in the shoulder with a massage.

It was meant to be a choice of one or the other but it didn’t take much more of both to be tangled, much like the two of you on his bed.

“So this is why the guys keep teasing you with those mama’s boy comments,” was something you remember giggling out while you had Price nursing from your breasts, his lips hungrily sucking at your nipples while his hands fondled your chest.

He chuckled lowly against your skin, his eyes twinkling as he peeked up at you with a wink. “I wear it with pride–always preferred a dignified woman over a bratty girl.”

You found yourself slinking over to the bar once again, careful to keep watch of any sign of Price. He had finished giving his acceptance speech–his frequent scans across the gala hall did not escape you while you were sinking low in your seat and hiding behind gala pamphlets–and was mingling with the likes of the ever dignified Commander Shepherd and other elites from the British Army with cigars and whiskey.

They truly grow up so fast.

Though, given his penchant for the finer things in life, it only made you swelter within your dress all the more with another memory from that night.

Your body caged in Price’s arms, your nails digging into his chiseled forearms, his naked body pressed flush against yours, his cock hammering into your core from behind, his voice in a hiss as he sought to mark your skin and leave his claim, his ownership.

“That’s right, Captain. Cum for your lieutenant and become mine…!”

You shuddered hard, head thrown back against his shoulder, back arching off against his chest. Never had any man–all of whom were much closer to you in age–made you feel like this.

And so, for once, you did as he ordered.

Partially.

Because you couldn’t become his.

You refused.

Price was well a decade younger than you, with your night together a drunken fling and–in your eyes–a tarnishing of the pure connection you shared with him as mentor and student.

All because you weren’t thinking that night.

You were supposed to serve as an example of what discipline and merit could achieve, especially against all odds.

Instead, you happily lied beneath him, legs spread wide to accommodate every eager thrust and every sticky load he pumped into you with.

It was at this recollection that you paused midway to the bar.

Perhaps it was time to call it a night instead, else risk more possible drunken mistakes, whether with Price or with someone else.

With this, you shifted direction to head over to where Kate and her wife were seated–just a quick bye and you would be out to find freedom and ease of mind back at your hotel room.

And then, you felt it again.

The manifestation of a haunting phantom.

The weight of two heavy hands coming to rest right on top of your shoulders.

“There you are–just the woman I’ve been looking for.”

Whatever drunken flushed heat in your skin turned ice cold as a voice–now roughened and deeper from when you last heard it–spoke out to you.

Your body was pulled back into an embrace with utmost ease, solid muscle slotting perfectly against your backside.

You dared not to look back.

But you knew he was smiling by the mirth in his voice.

“I’m being called for another speech, but I’ll be waiting for you for mahjong later, Captain. Still have a few loose ends I’ve been meaning to tie up.”

His fingers caught along the strap of your dress, running over the thin fabric right as he brought his lips right to the corner of your mouth for a quick kiss, the bristles of his mustache raking over your skin.

When he drew away, you caught the definite quirk of a triumphant grin as he proceeded to take his leave.

You almost shattered your champagne glass.

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tysm for reading !!! i hope you enjoyed !!! literally as soon as i returned from my trip this past weekend, i was DETERMINED to get this done and while i actually did have some bits i was inclined to elaborate on, i controlled myself because otherwise i knew i was gonna be locked tf in on context alone and i already have my "bodyguard" piece to catch up on !!!!!!!!! 😭😭

#captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #price x reader #captain john price smut #call of duty smut #reader insert #Fic #super freaknasty writing

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stellasolaris · 3 months ago

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1, 2, 3, 10, 14, 15, 29 ask game for the ship brella, please!

1. My first impression of them

I thought they were cute! I was pretty much obsessed with them the minute they appeared on my TV screen. Their chemistry has always seemed so effortless and genuine, and I would get giddy over the tiniest interactions they had.

2. When I think I truly started to like them

I can't recall the exact moment when I truly started to like them, but I remember I was heavily invested in them quite early on. And, fun fact, they're actually the reason I joined the fandom and opened a Tumblr account. Which is somewhat crazy to reflect on since I highly doubt I would have ever joined Tumblr if not for them!

3. A song that reminds me of them

"Paper Rings" by Taylor Swift.

14. Best storyline they had

The entirety of the Mirror of Truth episode where Brandon helps Stella break the spell that had transformed her into a cross between an ogre and a frog. The storyline primarily focuses on her character development, but it also underscores a few points about her relationship with Brandon. First, the storyline establishes that their relationship is not skin-deep; they may be a little shallow and flippant at times, but they care for each other beyond looks or superficial characteristics. Brandon being there for Stella without being put off by her beast-like appearance and supporting her are a clear testament to this bond. Their actions in previous seasons have already made the depth of their bond evident, but this storyline is a nice little reminder for those who might still question it. Second, their relationship deepens further thanks to the gift Brandon gives her by the lake. I feel like people don't realize or talk much about the significance behind this gift. While it may appear to be just a plain compact mirror, Brandon shares that it's a family heirloom that has been in his family for generations. The fact that he wants her to have it now shows that he's in it for the long haul and wants her to be part of the legacy. I know it's a bit cheesy and cliché, but it's also just so them!

15. Worst storyline they had

I hate how the writers treated them in the later seasons, but I particularly detest the episode in season six where Stella acted like a spoiled brat on their anniversary. At no point, in any alternate universe, would Stella act like that. I'm not suggesting everything should or would be smooth sailing for them; however, the storylines in later seasons were clearly fueled by unnecessary drama and tired tropes instead of genuine character development.

29. How do you think they would be as parents?

I think they'd be very fun and loving parents! I imagine Stella would dedicate a lot of attention to her children, as that was something she was deprived of in her childhood. I picture her as the type of mother who frequently worries about her kids and gets upset if they don’t keep her updated on their lives. I think Brandon would adopt a slightly more laid-back approach, while still being very protective of their children and ensuring they have a good head on their shoulders. Overall, I think they would be very affectionate and supportive as parents and encourage their children to have an open outlook on the world.

#sorry for such a late reply #things have been hectic for the past couple of years #figured I'd go through my inbox now that I have a little more free time #anyways. if there are any brella fans out there I recommend watching the italian version for the mirror of truth storyline!#it's way better #winx club #winx #brella #brandon x stella #winx stella #winx brandon #ask game #ask livienne #Anonymous

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bbagelbitch · 11 months ago

Text

Assorted Nekoma headcanons: (just for funzies)

(they've been sitting in my archives for YEARS)

First years:

Lev actually managed to get a girlfriend at one point about halfway through first year, she asked him out because she thought he was cute, broke up with him a week and a half later after realizing he’s a dumbass and a bit of a weirdo

Shibuyama is one of those people who you’d think he’s just listening to Taylor swift or something but he unplugs his earbuds and its like- little darkie or some screamo heavy metal LMAO

Shibuyama has a helicopter mom which feeds his anxiety to the point that he carries pepper spray with him sometimes

Tamahiko has a pet tarantula

Inuoka is the kind of person who’d wear shorts when its snowing out

Inuoka and lev will both unironically do Fortnite dances during practice

Shibayama totally has a bunch of allergies and is a picky eater

Inuoka and lev are basically just human garbage disposals (will eat ANYTHING)

Lev can’t swim

Biblically accurate lev Haiba (gets the worlds WORST sunburns every time he goes outside)

Lev has low blood pressure and will randomly faint when standing up too fast (Kenma has the same problem but refuses to admit it)

Inuoka is one of those people who types in all caps the majority of the time. Every literature and language teacher he’s ever had has told him off for using way too many exclamation points. (He can’t help it he’s just a happy little dude)

Lev texts constant updates about what he’s doing t the team group chat to the point where he’s been kicked off of it more times than he can count. (Usually for talking about taking a shit) (see Charles Boyle from B-99 for reference)

Second years:

Fukunaga and Kenma rarely have actual text conversations but they’re constantly sending memes back and forth to each other

Tora actually has fairly curly hair and it was a borderline afro when he was in elementary school (he’s part latino in my mind argue with the wall)

Kenma listens to almost exclusively video game soundtracks (skyward sword is his favourite)

Tora totally listens to girypop rap (he is 100% a Flo milli Stan sorry)

Tora has asked kai for advice on how to talk to girls SEVERAL times and the information that you should just talk to them like they’re normal people blows his mind every time (how does kai do it? Is he a witch? A demon?

Fukunaga owns at least 3 cats and they all have weird names (inspired by my friend who’s cat’s name is Fax Machine)

Kenma is the world’s driest texter (canon actually)

Also fukunaga uses :3 constantly

Fukunaga and kenma constantly bully Tora about his obsession with looksmaxing and say shit like “he can’t talk he’s too busy mewing” LMFAO (you either drip or you drown taketora)

Tora knows how to braid hair cause he’d help akane with her hair when they were younger

All of the second years used to bite people when they were kids

Third years:

The third years have done group costumes for halloween since their first year

Kai is basically the team’s dedicated tutor (Kuroo is too snarky and yaku is too impatient)

Kuroo listens to western (English) music cause he thinks it makes him seem cool and he developed a superiority complex about it. “Oh you haven’t heard of Radiohead?”

Also kuroo and yaks have pretty similar music taste (a lot of modern rock) but the key difference is Kuroo likes arctic monkeys and yaku likes the strokes (they argue about which band is better constantly (yaku is right, its the strokes))(cause they always have to be arguing about something smh)

Kai also totally has a longtime girlfriend in high school bro is possibly the only person on the team who’s done ANYTHING with a girl (probably one of the only people on the whole damn SHOW)

Kai defo knows martial arts I would not want to face him in a fight

Kuroo still uses emoticons instead of emojis :3 ;D and whenever he does, yaku makes fun of him and tells him to “get with the times”

Yaku 100% repeats what Kuroo says in a mocking tone whenever the opportunity arises

Kai is the type of person to say “personality” when asked if he prefers tits or ass

Miscellaneous:

Nekoma is the most neurodivergent team in the whole show bruh like come on

(autistic: Lev, Kenma, fukunaga.)(kenma totally also has ARFID)

(ADHD: Inuoka, Yamamoto, (both textbook cases of ADHD in guys) Kuroo, fukunaga) (Fukunaga my AuDHD king)

(OCD: Tamahiko, shibuyama (I just get vibes ok leave me alone)

(Yaku isn’t neurodivergent he just has anger issues lmao)

Kai is the only sane one on the entire team

Kuroo is also 100% one of those kids who got diagnosed with adhd really young so he appears mostly normal thanks to being medicated from the age of like- 6

Every single person on the team is oblivious as to when someone is flirting with them (kai is the exception)(girls pull out the wow your hands are so big and you’re so tall all the time and NOBODY reads into it)

Kai exclusively smells like a mix of vanilla and sandalwood and on the other side of that spectrum, Yamamoto reeks of axe body spray and b.o. No matter how many times Kenma tells him that axe actually drives girls away, Tora never listens.

Akane becomes manager of the boys volleyball team once she reaches high school (the first years will be third years by then)

The team all protective as HELL over akane (canon tbh)

#nekoma #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #kozume kenma #kuroo testuro #yaku morisuke #kai nobuyuki #yamamoto taketora #fukunaga shouhei #lev haiba #inuoka sou #shibayama yuuki #they’re all neurodivergent

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tribbetherium · 10 months ago

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The subcontinent of North Westerna, in the Temperocene, had become a lifeboat for the hammoths: a relic clade once dominant in the Glaciocene, now relegated to this small landmass, here they flourished and came once again to approach the diversity their kin once did, sporting species both great and small. For a time, North Westerna remained virtually free of large predators, and here the hammoths flourished, but then in the Temperocene, an intruder would arrive that would change the dynamics of this isolated land: the pterowrists.

Pterowrists are among the most bizarre and unusual of the pterodents, as they display easily one of the most drastic examples of of sexual dimorphism on HP-02017: females of these species are many orders of size larger than males, and in most species have become too heavy to fly: thus, splitting the two into completely different ecological niches. This unusual distinction was merely an exaggeration of a trend also present in many other pterodents, of females growing larger due to needing to bear young and defend their nests, while males grew smaller to compete less with their mates. This duality was furthered when they arrived onto an environment with no large land predators and little competition except small burrowing fearrets, and thus, the larger female pterowrists eventually came to occupy the niche of dominant land predator, while the males remained more or less occupying the niches of a more typical pterodent: an advantageous distinction that allowed a single species to essentially divide resources between two groups and thus reduce competition with itself.

The earliest of these were likely forms akin to the grassland bandrunner (Annulocaudopteryx equimensura), a very basal species where the size difference between the male and female is not as pronounced as other, more specialized forms. Yet, in the bandrunner, a behavioral and anatomical dichotomy can already be seen that marks it as part of the pterowrist lineage. While males have long, slender wings, fit for soaring, females have proportionately shorter and more rounder wings, and instead hunt on the ground: while still perfectly capable of flight, they prefer to hunt on foot and are swift runners, chasing down small bite-sized prey like furbils and duskmice, while the males in contrast have a preference for insects, wingles and small aquatic prey they can snatch in flight, as well as any scavenged carrion they can locate.

As female pterowrists came to eventually fill land predator niches, they over time grew bulkier and heavier and denser than their male counterparts to better tackle larger prey: ultimately leading to them abandoning flight entirely to specialize on becoming terrestrial macro-predators. Yellow brevtails (Xanthopteromys brevicauda) are a relatively small species like the bandrunner, but one that already exhibits the marked reduction of the females' forelimbs, and conversely the increase in size and strength of their hindlimbs, to better facilitate sustained chases on foot. The difference is not too marked while they are young pups, but, as they grow, the males, upon approaching sexual maturity, develop a growth spurt in their forearm bones and chest muscles while remaining fairly lightly built, while the females hit a more generalized growth spurt with their forelimbs remaining small, stunted, and proportionally similar to a young pup, but at the same time growing denser bones and stronger muscles especially in their jaws, necks and legs. Female brevtails are pursuit hunters that can tackle prey up to the size of small hamtelopes, seizing them in their jaws and repeatedly striking captured prey against the ground to dispatch them. Males, on the other hand, are dedicated scavengers and foragers, with a particular fondness of dropping bones as well as small, hard-shelled prey such as terrestrial shrabs from great heights to crack them open and access their prize.

As the pterowrist females grew larger and more capable of tackling bigger prey, they soon turned their sights on the subcontinent's most abundant local herbivores: the hammoths, of which many smaller species were abundant at the time, including beaver-sized burrowers or goat-sized grazers. Thus, some began specializing to hunt them and the native ungulopes as well, becoming even larger and more built for jumping onto and grappling bulkier game. The black rapteryx (Phorusracomys dimorphis) is the most notable of these species, being a four-to-five foot tall ambush hunter typically reaching weights of up to 150 pounds, heavy enough to tackle medium-sized herbivore prey, pinning them down and delivering deep lacerations with their large forward-turned inner dewclaw, striking and retreating repeatedly until its quarry eventually succumbs to exhaustion and blood loss. Male rapteryxes, on the other hand, prefer much smaller prey such as small hamtelopes, rattiles or ratbats, especially ones they can seize in their talons and carry off to a roost high up in trees, rocks or cliffs where they are less likely to be bothered by thieves: including opportunistic female rapteryxes who will not hesitate to use their greater size to bully a smaller male and steal his kills if she happens upon him on the ground, thus prompting them to use their advantage of flight to safekeep their food and spare themselves from harassment.

The arms race between hammoths and pterowrist females thus began, fueling the growth of both into increasingly larger forms better suited to attack bigger prey or defend itself. From the hammoths eventually arose the giant maustodons, rivalling the hammoths of the Glaciocene in size and strength, and in response, the peculiar saga of the pterowrist finally culminates with the pterowrex (Pterovenatrix regina): North Westerna's apex predator during the Temperocene era. Growing up to six-to-seven feet in height and reaching weights of up to 700 pounds, these powerful hunters sport hooked talons and muscular limbs to maintain a secure grip on prey and broad crunching jaws to deliver devastating bites. They have easily one of the largest disparities between sexes size-wise, as male pterowrexes weigh a comparatively measly weight of 30 pounds on average, with a wingspan of roughly three meters. Adolescent females are lean and lightly built, resembling much like the more basal rapteryxes during their youth, but continue growing for far longer, developing disproportionately large heads and muscular necks as they age and finally reaching full size in about ten years, whereas males, on the other hand, reach their final adult size in about half the time.

This extreme difference in size and shape between the sexes has significantly impacted their lifestyles, both in their ecological niches as well as their social interactions with other members of their species. Female pterowrexes are capable of tackling the largest of the hammoths, as well as opportunistically chasing away smaller pterowrists from their meals if the chance presents itself. Males, on the other hand, are ground hunters that stalk in grassy plains, stirring up small furbils and duskmice from their burrows and snatching them up as they flee. This, ironically, has led to them frequently associating with the very same hammoths that the females hunt, pouncing on the small scurrying creatures roused by their stomping feet. The hammoths, unaware and indifferent of the relationship between the small flying males and the large predatory females, tolerate the presence of the males and view them as no threat, even allowing them to pluck insects from their coats.

Male and female pterowrexes, given their massive differences in scale and lifestyle, generally live their lives apart, and only come together when mating: an otherwise difficult affair mitigated by the male's proportionately-lengthly reproductive equipment that enable him to inseminate a female many magnitudes of size larger. This is where his responsibility ends, as he contributes little else to his offspring but his genes and departs almost immediately to try and court another female, with the resulting child-rearing falling entirely in the responsibility of the females, with a litter of up to a dozen small but relatively precocious young weaning at three weeks of age, males fledging and flying off at about a year old, and females remaining with their mothers for as long as four to five years until they reach the adolescent to subadult stage where they eventually disperse from their mother's territory over time. Outside of breeding seasons, however, the two sexes of the pterowrex keep to themselves: seeking social interactions with same-sex members of their species, with males gathering in small all-male flocks that roost together, preen each other's coats and even cooperate when flushing small prey out of hiding, while females often pair-bond with another female, with the two cooperating during hunting, sharing food and territory, and even rearing their young together once the males depart after their brief and momentary encounter with the females.

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#speculative evolution #speculative biology #speculative zoology #spec evo #hamster's paradise #species profile

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