#and you NEED that bone because we are i think the only primate that keeps these when we're not nursing? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkfalcon-z · 4 years ago

Text

So you want to write a fic/draw fanart about Sun Wukong, but you don't know anything about macaques? I'll share some interesting facts with you I found in the internet (I'm not a primatologist/ethologist, so take it with a gain of salt) there is this cool youtube channel that is mostly about Rhesus Macaques, but you may get bored soon watching because those guys are mostly chilling, eating and grooming all day long and the don't do anything dramatic. Also be warned there are a lot of monkey channels that are essentially animal abuse. Stay away from those - if the monkey is a pet it's animal abuse, if a lot of accidents happen to the monkeys that's staged and it's abuse as well. I’m just writing down things you may want to play with in your fic or art.

Side note: this should be obvious, but if you want to write a fic with Wukong you actually need to do the research into Chinese culture and history.

Now back to macaques (it's mostly about rhesus or I'll specify otherwise):

- they have matriarchal society, girl children are preferred over the boys, because the boys would leave the natal group one day, usually when the dominant male decides that he doesn't want them around any more. If the boys grow up too big the dominant male may by too weak to kick them out on his own and he'll have to wait for the support from the females. Smarter and bolder boys may be kicked out earlier, because dad sees them as potential threat. Meek sons of low ranking females may stay longer because they are not a threat/not related to the dominant male.

- there are more females than males in the troop. The males that are the part of the troop usually outrank most females because they are bigger. Outsider males, who only drop by to visit or to mate have lower status, though. So you are in a cushy position if you secure yourself a place in a troop, but if you are a lone male not so much.

- girls inherit status of their moms, they are just below mom in hierarchy, but their place in ranking drops when their sisters are born - younger daughters have higher status.

- youngest daughter of the dominant female becomes next queen. To become the boss the male needs to kick out the previous top male and to gain approval of dominant female. Only the top male in the group can mate with the queen and the pair is supposed to have babies every year. I’m not sure how Wukong would fit in a sexual politics on the group, given that he’s most likely ace. Figuring it out may be one of the plot lines in the story.

- lesser males defend the troop on behalf of the top male, who only fights if the things get really serious.

- top female is the leader for life, top male is replaceable.

- status of females in the group is relatively fixed but your status drops if you have multiple boys in the row, because no one is is going to support you when the boys leave. Having multiple daughters boosts your ranking because they'll have your back. Being in the good graces of resident males, particularly the dominant one won’t hurt you either. But you need to be careful, if you become too bold the high ranking females will put you in your place.

- higher ranking members take food before lower ranking ones, they’ll take your food away if you eat out of rank. Even from your cheek pouches.

- you generally chill with macaques of similar status.

- higher ranking members will discipline lower ones, but they are usually more tolerant towards the babies (except if a baby takes a desirable food out of rank).

- macaques sleep in trees. They also huddle together.

- rhesus don’t eat meat. If you left them meat they won’t touch it/will drop it as soon as they realise it’s meat. They only eat insets, mostly ones they’ve picked while grooming. Long tailed macaques eat meat and shellfish.

- When we are at that long tailed macaques can use stone tools to open shells. It’s awesome but also kind of a problem because long tail macaques have voracious apatites and they will eat as long as there’s food so they are in danger of bringing to population of shellfish to extinction and forgot their technological advancement as a result. In contrast rhesus only eat as long as they are hungry and they will leave even the most attractive food when they are satisfied.

- rhesus eat fruit, seeds, nuts, shoots, flowers (particularly nectar), occasionally leaves and they can eat human food like bread as long as that food doesn’t have meat in it. I’ve seen rhesus eat spoiled milk :/

- they also eat soil, they do it because sometimes plants they eat have toxins and soil helps with that. Also nutrients possibly.

- they have very clean fur. The spend a lot of time grooming (1996 adaptation got it right). You want to romance a potential partner, you groom, you spend time with your family, you groom, you sit alone, you groom yourself, you want to persuade other monkey let you babysit her kid you groom her and then you groom the kid when she finally lets you, you want to make up after a quarrel, you guessed it, you groom. You are a lone bachelor and you’ve met your old auntie, who used to babysit you, you groom. It is all purpose social interaction that also keeps lice and tick of your fur. Macaques don’t generally get flees because they sleep in trees, while flees hop on their hosts from the ground, but they’d rid of fleas any way with all that grooming.

- other multi purpose gesture is showing the rump. You do it to say you’re sorry, to ask for something (usually for other monkey to let you babysit) and when you are flirting. The other monkey make hop on your back to show domination, accept apology or reconciliate. It kind looks like a copulation from afar.

- lip smacking is for showing affection and signalling you want a hug.

- open mouth stare signifies aggression (I think 1986 Wukong does that, when he faces his enemies (?), but I haven’t seen that in other on screen performances).

- yawning with teeth exposed is also aggression/threat (without teeth it’s just yawning).

- barking sound is also a threat.

- showing teeth in a grin is stress/apology.

- they scratch themselves more when stressed (and it’s depicted in several JttW adaptations).

- those guys may steal your food, steal a bag if they think it may contain food and even steal your other possessions in order to exchange for food (or sometimes just to play).

- they know if they show up with a baby in their arms they are more likely to be fed by humans. But at the same time they don’t like humans near their babies.

- macaques get redder during mating period (that is winter), males with more and darker red marks are considered more attractive by females.

- baby season is in the summer.

- girls are usually more developed at birth and grow up faster.

- yearling girls are super interested in the new born babies, boys are usually less interested but they help out sometimes as well.

- nearly all females love babies. They may not want to give the baby back if they are babysitting.

- usually both moms and dads prefer daughters. But there are exceptions because those monkeys are individuals, some actually prefer little boys. There are also females, who don’t like babies that much and little girls who are not interested at all in their younger siblings.

- if a baby dies a mom or babysitter can carry it for days. Sometimes they even carry around miscarried foetuses. They will groom the dead baby as well. Apparently if you’ll try approaching mourning mom other troop members will attack you.

- rhesus males don’t practice infanticide, because the females only get in oestrus at fixed time of the year, long tailed macaques supposedly do to make the oestrus come faster.

- most macaques figure out their own reflections relatively quickly.

- they love how to swim, they are good swimmer and they like to high dive. But they can overestimate their abilities and it’s not rare for them to drown.

- Macaques are somewhere around 2 feet tall (generally shorter than a human toddler, standing up they’d probably reach to your mid thigh depend how tall you are) Sun Wukong is 4 feet tall, that’s as big as modern 7 year old, perhaps he could passed as pre teen in Tang period because people used to be shorter in the past and it took longer for kids to grow. Anyway he’s small for a human but huge for a macaque.

- now for sexual dimorphism (people with trans head-canons take notes, I’m not telling you want to do, but only what you can play with):

- males are bigger and with bulkier shoulders (Wukong is huge anyway, so this one may not be so important),

- males have longer (more prognostic), squarer muzzles and bigger fangs (all male primates have significantly bigger fangs than females save for humans), females have shorter and rounder faces, you can more or leas tell the sex of an adult from the face after you’ve watched them for a while.

- females tend to be redder, both on face on on the buttocks. Older females tend to be redder than younger ones. Males get redder on the face and balls during mating seasons. Males often have only red marks on the upper part of the face, some just look as if they are wearing red eyeliner. Meanwhile a lot of females have whole faces red. I suppose female also get redder during mating season, but it’s not that obvious.

- lactating females have sagging beast, they are visible but usually not particularly big. Females, who don’t lactate don’t heave breasts. They may still have long nipples (in contrast all males I’ve seen have small nipples).

- males have quite big testicles comparatively to their body size, the balls reach almost to their kneed during mating season (when the macaques is on all fours at least).

- like most mammals they have penis bone.

- mounting time is less than 8 seconds for rhesus but the mount multiple time during the same event. Male hops on the top of female and often supports himself by holding her shins in his feet. Female often reaches back grab him with one hand.

- bonnet macaques are known for homosexual behaviour (they are known as the bonobo of macaques).

- Macaques are supposed to have periods but also oestrus cycle?? apparently

- it seems like all rhesus with leucism are female (??) or at least the condition occurs much more often in females. Those monkeys have golden fur and transparent nails. Usually leucistic monkeys are low in group ranking. You may include this fact if you want to write an underdog story.

- usually rhesus fur is combination of light grey, light brown and orange. Head and shouldered tend to be greyer, lower back and legs tend to be more orange, forearms tend to be darker grey, while the belly is much lighter than the rest.

- the winter coat is longer an thicker.

- Rhesus macaques typically have dark nails. They have nails, not claws. In fact almost all monkeys and all Old World monkeys have nails. Hand looks very much like humans. The thumb is just a little shorter and the palm just a bit different shape but you’d be hard pressed to find any hand resembling that of a human even among other primates, you’d get cebids and maybe great apes and that’s it. Actually macaques have closer thumb to finger ration to humans than other great apes.

- macaques do not knuckle walk like apes, instead when they walk on their flat palms.

- the hand does not resemble cat paws at all. It is not padded like cats or dogs’ paws. It looks almost like human hand but with hair on the top.

- needless to say macaques are very dexterous. Their hands are optimised for object manipulation.

- they have longer feet with pointy heel and opposite big toe.

- it’s not rare for rhesus to have brown palms even though they have light pink faces.

- rhesus have relatively short tails. Also no Old World Monkeys have prehensile tales (but you don’t have to draw, just have fun, heck I draw Wukong with long tail even though I think he’s supposed to be rhesus).

- the limbs are also relatively short with arms being shorter than legs.

- those guys are incredibly resilient and can survive losing a limb or two without human medical intervention as long as there are no predators in the area. They can also heal open broken bone.

- also while they discriminate against macaques with golden fur, the don’t seem to discriminate against monkeys with missing limbs or many other deformities.

- oh, yeah, about that, they care for injured macaques or at least if the injured one is their sibling.

- macaque bites aren’t very likely to pierce human skin (zoo keepers claim)

- but be warned you don’t want macaques saliva or other body fluids anywhere near your person because over 80% of their adult population (and about 25% of juveniles) carries monkey herpesvirus B. It hardly cause them any harm but mortality rate in infected humans is over 70% (at least that we know of, fortunately it does not usually spread to humans, there have been only about 40 cases on the record, all in the lab setting). Important note: this virus spreads sexually. Wukong may carry this virus without being aware.

- they have cheek pouches so collars or clothing that is tight around the neck is bad for them. If you put collar on a macaque they wouldn’t be able to eat properly because they usually put their food in the pouches and then gradually swallow.

#macaques #monkeys #sun wukong #macaqe #rhesus macaque #journey to the west #myposting

20 notes · View notes

loveafterthefact · 4 years ago

Text

Love After the Fact Chapter 67: Home

Keith returns to his first home, and brings Lance to meet his father. But first, a tiny bit of fluff to soften(?) the blow

TRIGGER WARNING: This episode includes the themes of loss and grief, which be distressing to some readers. Please take care of yourselves <3<3<3

First Previous Next

Keith’s home is simple, four domes, one visibly newer than the others, and one with a new roof. The stove and fireplace have also been redone quite recently. There's also a little garden plot now, overgrown with unkempt flowering plants, lovely in its little patch of wilderness.

“Ah, Mom added a washroom. Thank fuck. Lake’s cold as shit for a bath… It was nice of her to fix the place up. I’d always assumed I’d come back out here when I finished my service.”

“I never really thought about your aspirations had you stayed,” Lance ponders.

“Mnh. Nothing special. Do my time in the military, maybe find a mate, come back here for a while, then travel the stars. Try to find Earth, where my name comes from. But I’m doing something different, and that’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“Being mated to you, raising our kits, and looking after the Altean Empire? It’s not what I imagined, but I like it well enough. I’m happy.” And, because Lance doesn’t quite look convinced, “Really, Lance. Our life together makes me happy. Come on. I’ll show you around. We’ll unpack, and then we can swim in the lake, and you can see the waterfall.”

Lance watches Keith carefully, unsure of how he’ll react now that he’s home. They carry their things inside, watching the breeze roll red earth over the red stone floor. The main room is simple: a small fireplace with a narrow chimney, a knotted rug, a pair of chairs, a stool. Draped over the newer-looking of the two chairs -the other looks rather weathered- is a thin, threadbare cloth blanket, sun-bleached red. Keith smiles, picking it up.

“This was my blanket when I was kit. I couldn’t sleep without it. I left it here when I went with Shiro. I thought it might get taken away… I wonder if we could use it for something.”

“What, like for a baby?” At Keith’s nod, Lance continues. “It looks pretty thin, but maybe Pidge could do something with it. They act callous about it, but they actually really like kids, and not as science experiments. Not exclusively, anyway. It’s cute that you’re thinking about that stuff already.”

“It’s not like we’ll have a lot of time to devote to that stuff once we get home. We’ve delegated pretty much all of our duties for now, but that won’t last long. I have to think about while I have time.”

“Well don’t think about it alone. I’m right here. I already told you: I’m not going to be like the ol’ sperm donor back home.”

“Ugh.” Keith rolls his eyes, turning to open the cellar by the table. “I don’t want to look, think, or hear about your sperm donor ever again. He will never be left alone with our kits.”

“Good idea. Given the chance, he’ll gift them weapons and tell them they’ll take a life before they’re twenty.” Lance sighs. “You are going to let him see our kits, right?”

“Of course! He’s their grandfather! If he wants to see them, and can behave himself, then I want him to. Under supervision. My mother on the other hand…” Keith frowns, stands, brushes earth from his clothes.

“What?”

“Nevermind. Just more family drama. We have enough already.” Keith huffs. “Come on. I want to go swimming.”

“Can’t say no to that!” Lance chirps, skipping after his spouse. He doesn’t believe it’s ‘just family drama’ at all, but he’ll let Keith tell him in his own time. Just like he'll let the young man stall doing what he actually wants to do.

So instead of pressing his stressed spouse, Lance serves to distract him, swimming with him, basking in the waning sun, shoving his head under the water, getting into splash fights, and not acting at all like the prince he is. Which is fine, because they’re alone, and this is a very short respite before their lives get even more complicated. Taking time to 'mess around' in a small alcove behind a waterfall doesn’t hurt either.

Later, settling back against the rock face to watch Keith float in lazy circles, he finds himself wishing, for the very first time in his life, that he weren’t who he is, and for only the millionth time that he could make every last one of Keith’s days exactly like this one.

Keith swam up to the ledge Lance was sitting on, fitting in between his legs. “You okay?”

“Mhm. Just watching.”

“Ah. See anything you like?” Keith rests his cheek against the inside of Lance’s leg.

“Many things… You’re being very cute.”

“Still riding the high of being mated to you. It’ll wear off in a few quintants.” Keith kisses the bare skin at the inside of his thigh, smirking when Lance jolts.

“Just in time for your season. Brat.”

“Yeah. I can’t seem to catch a break, can I?”

“You know we can change that if you want. And I’ll make it as easy for you as I can.” Lance’s stomach growls audibly, making Keith laugh, nuzzling against Lance’s leg, more sweet than sexy. They’ve been apart, physically, most of the day. He could probably do with some physical affection. The platonic kind.

Lance has caught on to just how important that contact is to Galra. When not working or in uniform, they’re a comparatively clingy species.

“Hungry?” Keith teases when Lance’s stomach growls again.

“I’ve been hungry since before we even got here!” Lance laughs, brushing dripping clumps of hair out of Keith’s face.

“You could have said something. We could have eaten already.”

“Yeah, well. I had better things to do. Like watching my husband have some fun for once.”

“Oh, come on, I have lots of-” Keith frowns. “You never call me your husband. Not unless you have to.”

“Yes, well.” Lance gazes at his husband, eyes soft. “It never really felt like you were. And you think gendering everything is stupid, so…”

“It’s fine.” Keith swims around, hauling himself up to sit beside his mate, cuddling up against his side, tail serving as an extra limb to hold him close. “I mean, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather call you my mate than anything else. That’s what actually means something to me. That's the word I choose for my life partner. And you should call me whatever means something to you. Whatever that is. Even if that’s just ‘my contracted roommate’.”

Lance laughs. “That’s… incredibly sweet. Sweeter than I expected, honestly.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps a lecture on the arbitrary constructs of sex and gender?”

“Tempting.” Keith laces their hands together, nuzzling against his pointed ear. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “But I have something I need to do. I've stalled long enough. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.” If Keith doesn't want to go alone, Lance won't allow him to.

After grabbing a small bag from the den, Keith leads him through the last varga of light before sunset, weaving through trees like he still knows every root beneath his bare feet. BleepBloop eventually finds and joins them on their walk, presumably well-rested after sleeping the entire way there. The small primate remains mostly in the trees, leaping through the branches above, chittering and screeching at Keith to join him.

“We used to use the trees when we were out here,” Keith explains. “It tended to be safer than the ground. And most Alteans don’t tend to look up.”

“They really don’t. To be fair, it's unusual for fully-grown Galra to be hiding in trees. They don't exactly blend in.” The two laugh.

It fades quickly, when they stop at the edge of a ravine, Keith looking down. Without a word, t he Galra begins slipping down the side of the ravine, toward the water at the bottom. He moves with sure, practiced grace, aided further by familiarity with his surroundings, hyper aware of any changes. Lance is not so fortunate, slipping and sliding down the narrow ledges.

At one point, he loses his balance, falling back with a gasp. Fortunately, Keith manages to grab his arm, keeping him from falling to creek twenty dashes below. “You alright?”

“Fine. Just… struggling.” Lance does his best time hide how shaken he is. He can't imagine tiny, undersized Little Keith making this descent.

“Watch my feet. Put yours exactly where I put mine.”

With Keith moving slower, he’s more able to move safely down the side of the ravine. “This is much better. Thank you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think about it before.” Keith settles his feet into the sandy bottom. “I’ll help you back up… We should have done this earlier. It’ll be dark pretty soon.”

“You weren't ready, earlier. Don't worry. I can make light for us if need be.”

Keith’s not really listening, Lance can tell. Tail swaying, ears pricked, the Galra stares at a pile of rocks, roughly the length of a grown, male Galra, and about two dashes high.

“Is that-”

“Yeah. I was only six, so I couldn’t exactly move him. The rocks kept scavengers off of him. It’s how we’d protect kills if we weren’t ready to clean them.” Keith wades through the shallow creek, ears drooped. “Some of his smaller bones have probably washed away. The rest will too, sooner or later.”

“I’m sorry, beloved.”

“It’s fine. He’d be okay with that. My dad… He loved it out here, feeling like a part of something natural, something alive and thriving, all while minding its own business. This is where he belonged. Becoming a part of it is what he would have wanted anyway. It was me that wasn’t ready.”

Lance has never really thought before about life without his parents. Sure, he’s never had his mother, but he’s grown up with two fathers. Even before Alfor officially remarried when Lance was seven, Coran was his parent. Lance has only ever called him ‘daddy’, and later ‘dad’.

Thinking about it now, Lance can’t imagine losing either of them. Sure, he doesn’t typically get along with Alfor, but Alfor is his father, and the king. He’s an extremely important figure in Lance’s life. And Coran…

Coran, with his permissive attitude and his terrible advice and weird anecdotes and random facts and always being there to soften the blow when Lance screws up- Losing either of them would be devastating. It’s a terrible thing to think about, and it’s Keith’s reality.

So when Keith says he wasn’t ready to let go, Lance says, “I wouldn’t be, either. I don’t know that I ever could be.”

But he'd be ready to be Akira in a heartbeat.

Keith doesn’t respond, very quiet as he finds a bit of dry sand. He pulls a clay bowl, the inside caked in ash, from his bag, pours in the rest of the bag’s contents. A feather. A few different stones. A glass bottle filled with several layers of different colored sediments, which he opens and pours into the bowl. Herbs. Another, smaller bottle of a fragrant oil, which is also poured out.

From his belt, Keith removes a pair of stones, striking them together until he creates a spark. Sitting cross-legged in the wet sand, Keith stares at the low-burning flames. He only has until the flames die before Akira's spirit is finally sent on. Krolia got to convene, and now it's his turn. After this, the gods will take his father away, and nothing but bones will be left.

It's part of the reason he was stalling. This is a final goodbye, and that's always a hard thing.

“Hi, Dad. I kept my promise. I’ve come home…” Keith sighs, looking up at the sky as his eyes immediately start to sting. Lance sits right behind him, rests his cheek on Keith’s shoulder. “But, uh… It’s not really home anymore. I’ve been gone a long time, and- I think it’s okay, don’t you? It’s okay for this to be my sometimes home instead Home home, right? I mean- Fuck, I’m bad at this.”

Lance’s arm curls around his waist from behind, gentle and comforting, just enough for him to know he’s there. “Just talk, beloved. That’s all you have to do.”

“What I’m saying is… You did it. You protected me, and- I survived, because of you. And now, I get to live.” Keith rubs tears into his fur, sniffling. He still really, really misses his dad. Every day, he feels that empty space where Akira used to be. “I have a new home, and a good mate, and we’ll have kits, and a good life, and I hate that you had to die to give me that -

"And it's fine. Everything will be fine. I'll rule Altea with Lance, and help Lotor honor your wishes for Daibazaal, and I'll be a good uncle for his kits, and I'll be a good father, and I'll help keep the peace and you don't have to worry, okay? I'll be just fine. Better than fine, even.

“And that's fine. Really! I just- I just wish you were here. More than anything, I wish you were still here. I miss you so much..." Keith practically falls against Lance, still heartborken. "There are so many things I'll never get to see. I'll never get to see you and Mom together. I'll never get to see you with Lance, or our kits. I'll never get to see you proud of me, and everything that I'm working for. And I know that you are, but I’ll never get to hear you say it and it sucks.”

Keith takes a deep breath. The offering flame is already fading, and with it, his time to convene. “I’m sorry you died, but I’m glad that I’m still here, and I’m grateful to you for that.” The last of the flames gutter out. “I love you and I miss you, Dad. And I’ll see you again. I'll tell you everything you missed.”

They’re left in the dark, Lance wrapping around him, holding him tight.

“Do you- Was it good enough?” Keith croaks, rubbing at his eyes.

“It was perfect, baby. It’s not a speech. It sounded just like you, and that’s good.”

“He was my whole world,” Keith whispers, clutching BleepBloop as the concerned primate climbs into his lap. “And then he was gone.”

“I know, beloved. I know.” Lance rocks them gently. “Are you ready to go back?”

“Can we- Can we stay here for a little bit? Please?”

“However long you want.”

Lance lifts his hands, forming a few tiny werelights to hover above them, pale, gentle light to keep the dark at bay. It’s a good change from being trapped alone in the dark, just Keith and BleepBloop. Now, there’s him, his mate, his pet, and the imprint of his father’s life and legacy. Beyond this little circle, there’s friends and family. A purpose. A home. A future.

A good life, all because of the thing that he lost.

That one, precious, irreplaceable thing.

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

9 notes · View notes

tory-ben-hi-shelton · 4 years ago

Text

my favourite quotes from virals

The back-ass of Charleston. It's not so bad, if you aren't prone to loneliness. Which I am, but whatever. I've come to appreciate the legroom.

Kit's still not over the shock. I see it on his face every now and then. He'll wake up from a nap, or come up for air after a long stretch of work and literally jump when he notices me. That's my daughter. I have a daughter who is fourteen and lives with me. I am her father. Same shock for me, Pops. I'm working through it, too.

Kit and I attended service once. Took me ten seconds to see he'd never been there before. We made no second appearance. I hear the Big Guy's pretty understanding. I hope so.

I saw through his macho act. He was afraid I'd hurt him, but couldn't let on. Good. Be nervous, wuss.

"Well done, genius squad," I said. "I'm impressed."

Parallel tough guy nods. Man fix boat! Man be strong!

"What now?" I asked, hoping to divert the two from actually beating their chests.

"Monkeys are always funny. You pretty much can't go wrong with a monkey, right? Well, unless that monkey wants you dead or does needle drugs or something. Then it's a wrong, and a bad monkey."

"You did break that ATV." Ben, deadpanned.

"Right." Shelton's eyes rolled. "Shelton broke it. Not Ben and Shelton, because Ben is better at hiding in the woods. So only Shelton." He cuffed Ben's shoulder. "By the way, you're welcome, Blue." "I said I owe you one."

Head ass, if you ask me. That's where he kept his, most of the time.

Hi was busy explaining to Ben how many punches he'd absorbed before body-slamming the primate gang leader. His audience looked dubious.

"Good idea, finding a proper gown." Typical Hi sarcasm. "The Prom Queen has to look sharp. Vera Wang, perhaps? Or maybe something in Lauren Conrad?"

"Thanks," I responded dryly. "You'll still be my date right? Or will you have a playoff game that night? I'll understand; we need our star quarterback on the field."

"I'll let you know." Hi replied breezily. "I may be dining with Kristin Stewart. Or Bill Compton. Some vampire, I'm not sure which."

Then Ben and Shelton said they'd think about it. Following an impressive string of profanities, Hi consented to sleep on it.

"You're beginning to attract some real whack-jobs," Hi said when the two were out of earshot...

"Bro?" I teased.

"He caught me off guard." A touch defensive.

"Then we do it old school." Shelton flexed one twig arm. "Manpower!"

Hi raised a hand.

"Yes?"

"This sucks."

"Got it. Dig."

Shelton's response was less manly. Spotting the gruesome discovery, he yelled, "Grave, grave!" and scrambled from the pit. Hiram took one look and promptly upchucked.

"Don't be babies," I said. "Sometimes you have to touch the bones."

Ben sat beside me. Kit has remained on Loggerhead and Tom was driving the boat, so we were alone. For now. A bit of luck on the a day having none.

Embarrassed, I smoothed down corkscrew curls gone wild.

"Stop primping, Miss America." "Maybe you should start," joked Shelton.

Hi was top left, wearing Chuck Norris PJ's buttoned to his chin.

Simple. To the point. Ben Blue in a nutshell.

No bells, alarms, or whistles. Big break for the felon squad.

"Oh man, we're the worst burglars ever!" Shelton laid on the floor, defeated by the roller coaster ride of the last few days. "Forget it. I give up!" Ben popped Shelton on the head, conveying his opinion of surrender.

We pumped on. A shame no one recorded our record sprint times. Personal bests were undoubtedly set.

"Hiram, wake up man!" Shelton slapped Hi's cheeks, then rubbed his arms. Not exactly Web MD stuff. I gently eased Shelton back.

"That's Ben," Jason said. "He's the best. Bit of a talker, though." Ben glowered. I jumped in to diffuse. "This is my good friend Ben Blue."

I told Ben about my fainting spell and Hi's discomfort. He stepped back and covered his mouth with one hand. "I'll keep my distance. I've got enough problems."

"Thanks. Your sympathy is underwhelming."

"She's (Whitney) not that bad, right?"

"She's not trying to train you like a dancing bear."

"Ha!" Kit snorted. "Shows how much you know."

"Did you guys like the chicken?" I asked. "Mine was a bit dry." Dead silence. Then nervous laughter rose around me. It was music to my bruised ears.

"No biggie. Just breaking into Karsten's office and searching his files."

"Pfff." Ben pooched air through his lips. "I thought you meant something dangerous."

"If the old goat's still here, we're toast." Ben, always the optimist.

"Holy buckets," Shelton whispered. "Haul ass!"

"Meaning?" Ben asked.

"Neuro-anatomy is very complicated." Dismissive.

"So am I."

Recognizing the menace in Ben's voice, Karsten paused to organize his thoughts.

I was about to speak when I heard movement, a bark, then, "Oof."

"Coop votes to go right, too," Hi said. "At least, I think that's why he knocked me over."

And spotted Hi, jacket inside out, sneaking back up the steps. Frick.

"Hold it!"

Hi straightened, slowly turned, and trudged down to my bench.

"Oh, hey." Feigned nonchalance. "Didn't see you there."

"We're going to hell for this," I hissed. "What if Great-Auntie Syl blows our cover?"

"She's got dementia," Hi whispered. "She won't know the difference."

"That's horrible."

"People in these places love to have visitors. Even from fake relatives."

"Like I said. To hell"

"When did they build this monster?"

"1876." Shelton had a book on Carolina lighthouses. Of course.

Ben glanced at my scum covered arms. "Does it have a sink? A hose?"

Ha ha

"Perfect," I said. "Lead the way."

"Not a chance," said Shelton.

"Clean up," said Hi.

"Now," said Ben. "We'll wait." I stuck out my tongue but hurried home to scrub up.

My dirt-free attire got a round of applause. Ben whistled.

"Much better," Shelton proclaimed.

"I don't know." Hi pooched out just lips. "The avian excrement added a certain je ne sais quoi."

"Very funny," I said.

"Why would I not like that?" I asked.

"I wasn't finished." Shelton said. "I paused for dramatic effect."

"Let me think this through."

The boys rolled their eyes, but clammed up. They'd seen my concentration trick before...

"Ben may be right."

He raised the roof. I ignored him.

"If Chance catches you act love struck." Hi winked. "That'll work."

"Love struck?" Ben's brow furrowed. "What's he talking about?"

"Nothing. Wish me luck." Stupid Hi.

"What are you doing here?" I babbled.

"What am I doing here? I live here."

"She's going to say 'tonight', isn't she?" Shelton's chin dropped to his chest. "Every time I think I'm done for the night, Tory says we have to raid some fortress."

"Hiram!" Shelton ran to Hi's side. "Aren't you bleeding? I thought she shot you!"

"Tory can order me around inside my head." Ben said. "If that doesn't make us close, I don't know what does."

#hey sorry this post is so fucking long #i just re-re-read them and am in love (yet again) with these books #these are all from the first book btw #i kinda hate that the series and the first book have the first name #i'm gonna be making one of these for every book tho so deepest apologies #long post #virals #virals series #the morris island pack

3 notes · View notes

sage-nebula · 5 years ago

Text

One headcanon I have is that Bond Phenomenon is Mega Evolution, just without the Key Stone and Mega Stone used as conduits to make the process safe.

Essentially:

Both Bond Phenomenon and Mega Evolution require an absolute bond between the human and pokémon. Setting aside gameplay mechanics, from a storytelling perspective, not just anyone can do it. Even if you have the Key Stone and Mega Stone, it won’t work if you don’t have a sufficiently strong bond, and if that bond isn’t channeled as energy between the Key Stone and the Mega Stone. As much as I dislike the Let’s Go games, the one thing they did right was have Professor Oak describe the process as two hearts becoming as one. That’s what Mega Evolution is, and given the description that Professor Sycamore gives of Bond Phenomenon in the anime, we can deduce that it’s the same for Bond Phenomenon as well.

That said, there are two key differences between Bond Phenomenon and Mega Evolution. One is that Mega Evolution has the aforementioned Key Stone and Mega Stone combination while Bond Phenomenon doesn’t, and the other is that Bond Phenomenon causes physical pain to the human during battle while Mega Evolution doesn’t. And I think these two things are related.

My thought is that Bond Phenomenon / Mega Evolution are the same, but that thousands of years ago keying into that power and that bond to cause those transformations could---and perhaps even often was---prove lethal to the human, which in turn could cause irreversible psychological damage to the pokémon. The lethality wasn’t necessarily because of any damage incurred during battle, but rather because of what that amount of power and energy could do to the human body during the process.

Let’s think about it for a moment.

Compared to pokémon, humans are basically defenseless sacks of flesh and bone. This is why, in the games, you’re literally not allowed to go anywhere without a partner pokémon (at least not into tall grass, but once you have your starter you can never walk around with an empty party, etc). Even when it comes to the likes of rattata and pidgey, humans can’t hold their own against them. Furthermore, while humans obviously evolved from primates, we evolved over millions of years. Our evolutionary process is extraordinarily slow, particularly compared to pokémon who can evolve or transform in a matter of seconds.

What this means is that various pokémon species are biologically more capable of handling massive amounts of transformative energy. Even if the transformation might cause some discomfort in the moment (and I heavily disagree with those Mega Evolution ‘dex entries in Gen VII, which were only written that way to disparage Mega Evolution in favor of the new Z-Moves mechanic), they can transform right back and be perfectly fine. They have more stamina, more endurance, and more flexibility when it comes to evolving and transforming than we do. By contrast, we simply can’t change our form the way we can, and we will actually die if attacked by a pokémon. There’s a reason why Professor Birch had to flee the zigzagoon the way he did, despite it being tiny and defenseless compared to other pokémon.

So in the past, before Key Stones and Mega Stones were created, those who were able to connect with their partners on a level deep enough to achieve Bond Phenomenon put their lives at severe risk. My thought is that there are different levels of Bond Phenomenon, different levels of connection. Level One would basically be what we saw in canon with Ash and Greninja, where Greninja’s appearance changes and Ash can feel what Greninja feels in battle, and Greninja can feel Ash’s enthusiasm to some degree. Deeper levels would be where the human can see through the pokémon’s eyes (and perhaps only through the pokémon’s eyes), the feelings and thoughts of human and pokémon start bleeding over into each other without both of them losing the ability to tell which is which, the human themself starts experiencing some physical transformations, and so on and so forth.

As you can imagine, such a thing is extraordinarily dangerous and, again, the deeper the connection goes, the more lethal it becomes. And while you’d think, well, it’s just the human that’s dying and getting hurt, that’s not exactly true. If a human dies in the midst of a deep Bond Phenomenon connection, not only is that going to disorient the pokémon and leave them stricken with confusion and grief, but it can cause irreversible psychological damage. Not to mention, if they had physically transformed and that energy didn’t dissipate properly, it might render whatever transformations took place irreversible.

So to try to get around this, those who were capable of Bond Phenomenon in ancient times (as well as scholars interested in the phenomenon as well) developed Key Stones from the meteorite that crashed in Hoenn (a.k.a. the megalith), as well as Mega Stones from both the meterorite and DNA from the pokémon in question (DNA from shed scales or fur or the like) to act as conduits for the energy. Now the transformation could take place safely, without any lasting harm to either party. It did prevent the connection / transformation from going too deep, which is why no one is seeing out of anyone else’s eyes and there’s no mind melding going on, but considering what used to happen when that level of connection was reached (e.g. permanent blindness, neurological damage, aneurysms, stroke, death), that was considered a small price to pay.

Today, Key Stones and Mega Stones exist in small amounts and for only a handful of pokémon. This is not because only certain pokémon can Mega Evolve, but rather because in ancient times, only those who had proven themselves capable of Bond Phenomenon with their partner had Key Stones and Mega Stones made for them and their partner, using DNA from their partner pokémon. The Key Stones and Mega Stones that are in use today are actually those once used by people and pokémon now long since dead who have by now been forgotten by history. Theoretically, it should be possible to make a Mega Stone for just about any pokémon, but the method of doing so has been lost. Though that said, if Mega Evolution scholars look hard enough, perhaps they could unearth the method of making Mega Stones once more . . . (and then keep it away from corporations like Silph, Devon, and Macro Cosmos at all costs).

Anyway, this is my headcanon, and I still like to think about it sometimes. Fun fact: I was actually planning to bring this up in the climactic battle of To Devour the Sun wherein Alan and Lizardon achieved like a Level Three Bond Phenomenon connection due to both their bond (which canonically exceeds limitations and overcomes reason) and all of the experimentation Lusamine put them through. It would be Bond Phenomenon specifically because Lusamine made sure way before that moment that neither had their Key Stone or Mega Stone anymore, and while it would be immensely powerful, let’s just say that it definitely led to some temporary blindness, nose bleeding / coughing up blood, and unconsciousness when all was said and done, among other things. It might look and is absolutely awesome (as in “to inspire awe”) in the moment, but ultimately Key Stones and Mega Stones exist for a reason and should be used. (In other words, setting aside that Ash’s bond with Greninja never felt nearly as powerful as a bond like this needs to be due to writing issues, he needs to either find someone to make some Greninjanite for him or else stay far away from battling like that with his frog again, for his own safety. Like I know he’s used to dying at this point, but still.)

#pokemon #mega evolution #bond phenomenon #Alan's temporary blindness as a result of Bond Phenomenon inspired by my temporary blindness when I got in my car accident #complete with the same ''wait - wait - okay it's back i'm okay'' moment #(he's not okay and neither was i. i was concussed. so is he probably)#(among other things. he goes through a helluva lot in that story)#(i should probably get back to it at some point since i left off with him basically dead)#(but the fact that the Alola stories went so far off what i'd predicted hurt it a lot)#also of all the corporations listed Devon is the one it MOST needs to be kept from #like they're already using Infinity Energy which is energy from dead pokemon #sorry Steven but your company cannot be trusted #nope nope nope nope NOPE #also i thought of this & decided to make a post bc ''Stronger Than You'' came up on Spotify #and it always makes me think of Alan & Lizardon #bc they are made o-of lo-o-o-o-ove #lo-o-o-o-ove #(and they're stronger than you)

9 notes · View notes

royalreef · 5 years ago

Text

(( ENJOY A MASSIVE POST ABOUT MERFOLK TAXONOMY, because biology has long been my BIGGEST special interest ( yes I’m including paleontology under this, I know it’s more considered an earth science and part of geology, shush ).

Merfolk as a whole are a part of an ancient group of animals that diverged from basal amniotes around the same time amniotes themselves came about, 312 mya (million years ago). I say about, because I haven’t fully decided where exactly to put them in this case, whether they’re fully counted as amniotes or no, and I still need to do a large amount of research into this.

I classify this split as happening there, as opposed to somewhere else, because merfolk are obviously tetrapods, and have some adaptations for full land living that amniotes have, though the merfolk themselves are fully adapted for a watery niche. Their eggs certainly were carried internally for a long time, so there’s probably some convergent evolution to how mammalian live birth happened, hence all the more reason to put them under amniotes, but they’re definitely not synapsids and thus definitely not mammals.

These early ancestors also retained their gills and ability to breathe water. They do have lungs too, and conceptually they filled a very fluid niche, where they had to be able to rapidly switch from aquatic life to terrestrial life, with most being oppurtunists who used this wide variability to be able to get a wider variety of food and resources that other animals couldn’t.

I will say these early ancestors mostly resembled newts/salamanders or small lizards, and somewhere along the line they independently evolved scales, both for providing armor and for retaining water when they were on land, along with all the other reasons to evolve scales.

( Ideally, I’d say they never evolved hair, but considering that I can’t fully redesign Miranda for this blog for fear of inability to use my icons and basically making her fully an OC, she has to keep the hair on her head. Her eyebrows are a maybe, since I joke aplenty about them just being markings or her drawing them on. Landfolk get weird when they see her without any eyebrows, so she has to appear to have them! )

They also generally retained the same amount of digits as other tetrapods, so that’s how Miranda has five fingers still, though merfolk lost one of the toes on their feet, bringing that total down to four.

And yes, all of this does mean that merfolk have plenty of ancestors in deep time that probably fossilized and could be found by even human scientists, but they’re probably thought of in this world as an offshoot of tetrapods that has no extant relatives, with what fossils remain being sparse or incomplete, or even caught in nomen dubium hell. Certainly they weren’t featured in this world’s Jurassic Park, that’s for sure, and if they are represented it’d be in something like ARK.

This also does mean that there are plenty of ancestors that fell into more unique or odd niches, with stranger body plans or something much more different from the rest. 312 mya is a long time, after all! Lots of time for there to be more experimental species, though they didn’t pan out in the long run.

So, with merfolk themselves, I generally have the idea of them as coming from a branch of that tree that hung around the ocean’s edge, sticking closer to the shoreline than the mer alive today, though they were oddly social for a tiny, lizard-like species, probably already communicating through small squeaks and chirps. Lizardy kinda sounds. They spend a good amount of their time on rocky shores and cliffs, so they’re good at climbing over and up them. Likely already had something akin to their fins on the sides of their face, used for communication and display, along with pushing additional water over their gills, or maybe even the fins being used in addition to the gills to extract extra oxygen from the water is basal to merfolk, but only the abyssals really retained most of that feature.

As token as it sounds, I think the K/T extinction event was probably what pushed them to evolve into the branch that became merfolk. The death of much larger marine creatures opened up the ability to go more fully ocean-bound, and to take over a role akin to marine reptiles in the past and the marine mammals that were also evolving at that time, but with the addition of having gills to not have to surface for oxygen.

Their evolution from that point probably was a bit like primates - lots of trying out different shapes and styles, more of that basal form than true merfolk, except their roles being out competeted or otherwise led to extinction, until you get the “true” merfolk - which would occur with a focus on social behavior and language, along with tool use, as was the bonus to being a tetrapod that went back into the ocean but never lost their hands.

This is where we get to the merfolk family tree. I’d say probably the first mer was mid-size, generally had all of the traits of the merfolk you see today, very general, but very adaptive.

The abyssal (royal) merfolk were probably the first to branch off. Their tails resemble mosasaurs’ and early icthyosaurs’ a lot, having a much larger lower lobe of their tail where the bone is, and the upper lobe, being all fleshy, isn’t too pronounced. They went down into the deep sea, branching off early from the rest of the merfolk, and thus were generally super isolated from the rest, which you can see today in how the Merkingdom itself generally is conducted.

There are plenty of other species of merfolk, however, and the abyssals (and Miranda) are not representative of the entire group. There’s a lot of different takes on the same body plan, with different niches and different adaptations and different types of behavior associated with each. They’re all super vocal and adapted to be able to hear well, so that’s also basal to the group, but that also means when they all started forming their own societies and cultures and general settlements, it’s even weirder than how humans do it.

Effectively, merfolk are a lot like the homonid family tree, and for that reason they also generally take after the concept of the “braided stream” more than just the tree of life. It’s also why I can feel more confident saying they’re seperate species and not subspecies, despite being able to reproduce and make viable offspring - and anyway species as a whole are fake and weird. There’s a lot of hybridization going on, with some populations getting some genes from others that benefit them and get genetic and physical variation. In more nomadic merfolk, there’s a lot of their genes spread around in other species and a lot of genetic variation in them, because they roam and run into different species - meanwhile, the abyssals are much more genetically restricted, since the abyss is a generally isolated place that isn’t easy to access unless you’re made for it.

I’m pretty bad at clarifying when I’m talking about abyssal mer vs all merfolk, since there’s a huge amount of difference between the two. Abyssals are probably the merfolk with the most bioluminenscence - while some species probably do have a little or even a lot, it’s not as much of a need as with the abyssals. The abyssals also might have gone through deep-sea gigantism? They’re pretty big by merfolk standards. And yes, that is taking into account how tiny Miranda herself is - since she’s kind of an exception to the rule, being that she didn’t really grow right and her bones didn’t get the chance to form correctly, leaving her as a rather unhealthy-looking runt of an abyssal. I’m generally thinking mer grow throughout their entire lives, as something that’s also basal to the group, they just slow down after a point - so if you got proper care for Miranda’s health issues she might be able to fix some of that problems, and mer medicine is waaaaay more sophisticated and generally ahead than current human medicine, so if it was treated she might be able to come up to a respectable height and avoid some of the isssues of that kind of deformity that’ll occur later in life.

I do believe as a whole, merfolk are rather large. Some are more sleek than others, but especially with abyssal mer, they put on fat and muscle really easily. They’re a lot like large crocodiles in that respect. Again, Miranda is an exception to this rule, as she’s really not healthy - but overall, merfolk are DENSE. Abyssals tend to have tough armor, dense bones, put on muscle and fat easily, and generally should be MUCH heavier than a human of the same size. Not to mention their tails, as unless a mer is in the really late stages of starvation, they keep most of the muscle on their tails. It’s how they swim and get around, so losing that muscle is basically a death sentence to merfolk.

There’s also variation in diet, dentition, and what they can digest. I will say all merfolk generally can handle meat - some of them are more adapted towards eating coral or plant matter or filter-feeding, but generally they can all digest and handle it and won’t turn it down if they do get it. The abyssals do tend towards being carnivores and most of their diet should be meat, but they can handle other biological material as well. They’re equal parts predator and scavenger - their jaw strength is a lot like a hyena’s or a T. rex’s (at least, in the theory of them being scavengers and not predators). It’s VERY useful in getting into any hard material the ocean can throw at them, cracking not only bone but shell and scale and cartilage and shell too, and to extract as much nutrition from any food they find. I can say their jaw strength is probably the strongest among the merfolk for that reason.

This also means, while abyssal mer have their triangular, serrated teeth like a great white shark’s - that tooth shape is more unique to them and their specific niche than to merfolk as a whole, who have a LOT more variation. I imagine at least one has teeth that come together a bit like a parrotfish’s beak, and one has teeth more similar to a crabeater seal’s, useful for seiving through water.

Abyssal mer are also the ones that really retained the ability to extract extra oxygen from the water through their facial fins. That’s why Miranda’s fins are so fluffy and large - they’re basically pseudo-gills, and that’s why they’re so sensitive. Other mer do also have some of that ability, but it’s to a lesser degree than abyssal merfolk, and most are probably less sensitive because of that. That being said, the shape of the fins is kept, as is the “fluff” closer to the cheek. That fluff actually has a purpose beyond oxygen extraction - they’re little outgrowths of flesh and skin that act a lot like an owl’s facial feathers. They’re effectively radar dishes, helping pick up on sounds in the water and assists their hearing and communication. The fins are also universally used for communication and display - they move with a merfolk’s emotions for a reason! They’re really good silent communication when hunting.

I also think mer do universally have the pads on their hands and feet. Honestly, they aren’t really anaogous to a cat’s or dog’s paws. They’re far closer to what you’d find on an Osprey’s foot, and provide a lot of the same uses - namely being used as a grip in holding onto slippery prey, but also in movement, when mer cling to sheer rocks or climb over coral or what have you. Normally they’re very rough and thick - but because Miranda is a royal, she files hers down, and so they’re much softer and thinner. They’re all pretty squishy though.

I’d add more but I think that’s MOSTLY it. Can you tell I have a special interest?

#Most secret royal advisor || OOC #Given by Divine Right || Headcanons #You built up a world of magic ; Because your real life is tragic || Self #(( spell check gave up on me like a third of the way through so...#(( im very very sorry #(( rip mobile users #long post

6 notes · View notes

quinzelade · 5 years ago

Text

Making One’s Bones (chpt 6)

Chapter List

Porter Gage is in a pickle. Nuka-World needed a new boss and some woman just killed her way to the top. But a pre-war Mafia boss on the theme park's throne? Well...at least she'll have experience.

History Lessons

The night in the Primate House was a long and uncomfortable one. Gage shifted in his spot on the floor, slowly became aware of a damp spreading through the seat of his pants, and made a noise of disgust. He'd been trying to put off his next wash for a few more months, and didn't want ape shit speeding up the process, but what could he do—sleep standing up? The whole place was covered in muck. Still, it was worth a shot, and so Gage got to his feet, testing the ground for a less soggy place to sit. Bossanova watched him silently from her own corner. Perhaps she'd noticed his pants sticking to the back of his legs.

The ghoulrillas were snoring all around him, Cito snoring loudest of all. He exclaimed loudly when he'd realised his little nest had been disturbed, but thankfully decided it must have been 'one of the monsters' sneaking in and disrupting his things without trying to eat any of his family in the process. Gage was happy to let him think that. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of Cito's piece of pipe.

As the combined rumblings of the sleeping idiots filled the air, Gage considered their new enemies. The gatorclaws were no laughing matter. He'd fought one or two deathclaws in his time, each battle a close call. But a park full of them? Not to mention the gatorclaws seemed even more vicious than their horned cousins.

Gage shifted around a little, noting with some relief his pants had dried off a bit. Not only that, but this spot near Bossanova seemed a little less damp than where he'd been before. Gage dropped down with a soft flump and watched a ghoulrilla scratch its ass in its sleep. The boss had been playing on his mind all night. Not the way she'd held a knife to his throat—he'd deserved that, he knew it—no, what bothered him more was their first gatorclaw fight, when she'd saved his life by pushing him out of the way.

Raiders, he understood. Kill or be killed. Loyalty only carried you as far as where the next meal came from, and if shit got bad, you took care of yourself first. Gage knew this. The only certainty about a raider was the fact they would turn on you.

Gage stared down the enclosure, watching Bossanova. He could see the glint of her eyes in the darkness, could just make out her hand resting on her sword, which she'd finally stopped trying to straighten out.

The stupid woman hadn't even hesitated.

"Boss…?"

"Yeah?"

Several seconds passed before he realised he'd spoken. Bossanova was sitting up straighter now, her head turned to him. He looked away from her, his heart quickening. When the gatorclaw grabbed her, he could have turned tail. Left Nuka World forever. He wanted the park working more than anything, but the situation was fucked long before Bossanova arrived. It wasn't worth his life. If Cito hadn't caved the thing's head in, he'd have died there and then. It shouldn't have got to that point. Gage knew when to cut and run.

So why hadn't he?

"Gage?" Bossanova tilted her head to the side. "Is everything okay?"

"Why the fuck do you care?" Gage snapped. He regretted it instantly. He sounded like a kid. He quickly changed tack. "Just...about Colter," he lied, finally looking up again. "You mentioned him back in the Welcome Center. It's...I can tell it's gonna be a sore spot."

"Maybe. Depends if there'll be a repeat performance." She gave him a wry smile just visible in the dim light. "Feeling guilty?"

"No, ain't no guilt over that call. Colter was a piece of shit. I've been real clear with you."

She glanced up at the ceiling, now concealed by darkness, and then dug into her pocket, producing a small candle and a packet of matches. She lit one of the matches, the surrounding ghoulrillas stirring in their sleep, and cleared a circle in the grime and straw, setting down the candle. She put the match to the wick, and the room filled with warm, flickering light.

Bossanova blew out the match. Then she drew her knees to her chest, rested her chin on them, and said. "How do you know I'm better?"

"I don't," Gage said, frowning at her. "But I ain't got a choice. After Colter, I'm livin' on borrowed time."

"Smart man like you, you should have seen him for what he was."

"Hey, I don't know what it was like in your time," Gage snapped, sitting up straight and glaring at her, "but out here, Colter had the qualities that mattered." She'd hit a nerve, and goddamn if he didn't know it. "He was big, strong, and didn't take no shit. So I talked him into being overboss, thinkin' he'd listen to me, let me help him. I thought...I thought I'd be able to keep him in line. But..."

Bossanova's expression shifted into something painful. Her voice sounded strained as she said, "It went to his head?"

Gage tried to reply, but the words caught in his throat. He settled for a single nod. She knew. She knew.

Bossanova gazed past him, her expression distant. "People like Colter... you trust to do as you ask, as they're expected." Her tone grew harder with every syllable. "But greed, power, drugs—it twists them, strips them of the person you knew, until all you're left with is a shell. A shell you have to put down yourself…" She breathed heavily through her nose cavity. "Because you created them."

Ringing silence followed. Gage was at a loss for words. Eventually, he managed a weak, "Shit, boss."

Bossanova shook her head, still not looking at him. "I know how gangs work. I know how they end. And I know why you're making me the target instead." Their eyes met. "I'm fine with that."

Gage wanted to know more, but something in her stricken expression told him it was a bad idea. She hadn't meant to say it. He swallowed, dragging the subject back into familiar grounds. "You ain't like Colter. That's what I'm getting at. You ain't like the other raiders I've run with. This place is about to go off like a goddamn grenade, but so long as you don't pull another stupid stunt like you did with Mags, we could make this work." Gage hesitated, aware he was getting a bit too sentimental. But the fact they were even in Safari Adventure at all spoke volumes. He swallowed his pride and charged on. "You've got the smarts and the drive to make a pretty damn good overboss."

Bossanova snorted with laughter. "I've barely done anything yet."

"More than Colter."

"God, he's made your expectations low."

It was Gage's turn to laugh. "I'm just saying, I'm...I'm starting to be glad we teamed up, is all."

The odd thing was, despite their earlier fight, he wasn't lying. Gage sat in stunned silence, his brain blank. Where the hell had that come from?

Bossanova didn't seem to notice his sudden apprehension, because she smiled broadly and settled back in her corner. After a moment, Gage did the same. As soon as her eyes shut, he scowled. Yeah, he was impressed with the way she'd taken charge, and she clearly knew what she was doing. But he couldn't quite wrap his head around what was bothering him.

It kept coming back to the fight. How Bossanova pushed him aside, took the blow instead. And how he, Gage, then followed her example.

She's no raider.

The realisation hit him like a gut punch. Bossanova didn't do things the raider way. She didn't just slit his throat when he overstepped his bounds, or abandon him in a sticky situation to save her own neck. She kept him for his usefulness, yes, but seemed to enjoy his company as well. Why else would she be making fucking breakfast in the morning for him?

But whatever she was doing, it was working. He'd never thrown himself at a deathclaw—Gatorclaw, Bossanova's voice corrected inside his head—for anyone before. Gage's scowl deepened as he remembered the talk she'd given him about trust the previous night, a strange anger bubbling away in the pit of his stomach.

She's no raider, Gage thought bitterly. But then he paused, his agitation calming down to a simmer. Was that really a bad thing?

For the first time in years, his thoughts drifted back to Connor.

Connor, who relied on him for advice. Connor, who said he trusted him—that he, Gage, was an important part of the gang. Connor, who took what he needed and then tried to kill him.

A raider through and through, and Gage had learned the lesson well. Never trust, never linger if shit hit the fan. And if Bossanova didn't play by the raider rules, both she and Gage were in for a world of trouble.

Maybe she was more raider than he realised; trying to lull him into a false sense of security, make him weak and complacent. Just like a slaver, before they snapped the collar on. Well, she was in for a nasty surprise if that was the case.

But...why risk her life just to trick me?

Gage massaged his forehead with his knuckles and decided to shelve the worries for now. There was nothing he could do about it here, surrounded by gatorclaws and ghoulrillas and the idiot Cito. Get the job done, go back to Nuka World, reassess. He'd used up all his chances with the other gang leaders—there was no way he could bring in another overboss now. But maybe he could still leave, before Bossanova ran him or the entire operation into the ground.

Sighing, he shut his eyes, hoping the morning brought a better day.

It did not.

Gage spat out a mouthful of blood as he staggered to his feet. A tremendous roar echoed from the dizzying heights of the Angry Anaconda track above, and he glanced up in time to see the snapping jaws of the gatorclaw miss Bossanova's heels by inches.

She lost her footing, and for one heartstopping moment Gage thought she would fall. But Bossanova clung on, scrabbling up again and ducking to avoid the beast's claws. He wondered whether he could shoot it without hitting her, but as Gage stepped forward, his head spun and he struggled to stay standing. The sixth gatorclaw fight was taking its toll.

Bossanova climbed higher and higher, every slip of her hands and feet sending a jolt of panic through him. She reached the peak, a wide chasm of collapsed track, and edged back, her arms flailing. The overgrown lizard pulled itself up, causing the whole structure and Bossanova to wobble dangerously.

The gatorclaw stared at her as it struggled to stay on the narrow rails, its huge, clawed feet sliding around, rattling everything further. Gage could hear its low, guttural growls all the way from the ground, and held his breath as he watched the teetering standoff.

The gatorclaw lunged.

Bossanova dropped through a gap in the track, catching hold of a bar at the last second. The gatorclaw barrelled on, throwing itself into open air and plummeting, while Bossanova held on with one hand. It seemed to take an age to fall, its muscular limbs flailing as a long, shrieking howl escaped its terrible jaws, before hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Bossanova dangled precariously over the drop by one hand, swiping up to the rails fruitlessly with the other.

Gage swore, setting off at an unsteady run. Would he be able to reach her in time?

Two figures streaked past him before he'd taken more than two steps; Cito and Chris the ghoulrilla leapt onto the metal structure, climbing with fluid ease. By the time Gage put his foot on the first rung, the ghoulrilla scooped Bossanova under one arm and swung casually back down. As Cito followed, Bossanova was dumped unceremoniously at Gage's feet.

"You alright, boss?" he said, ignoring both his racing heart and her two idiotic saviours.

"Fine," wheezed Bossanova, massaging her chest and standing up. She looked paler than usual, a slight tremble to her hands. But then she shot him a mischievous grin. "Still looking out for me?"

Gage scowled and turned away, his cheeks hot. Fuck her then. He stomped off, making sure she knew his displeasure, before stopping at the gatorclaw. It was impaled on some old pieces of track sticking out of the ground, its yellow eyes blank and unseeing.

He kicked the dead beast fiercely with his foot. How many more of these things would they have to fight?

Gage forced his attention to the Angry Anaconda. Somewhere in this mess of metal and dead greenery was the password for the Welcome Center—their only chance of dragging this hellhole under raider control.

He paused, wondering what would have happened if Cito and his 'family' hadn't been with them. Gage shivered, thinking of Nisha's well-used knives. He stole a glance at Bossanova when he was certain she wasn't looking, and then at Cito and the ghoulrilla. He would have killed them to make sure the park was clear for the gang. Bossanova talked them round instead.

Maybe Old World tricks had their place after all.

"Boss," Gage said, suddenly reminded of their first meet with the Blacks. "What was that shit you were talking about with Mags?" Bossanova paused, looking up from the decaying roller coaster cart she'd been sifting through. Gage took this as a sign to continue. "You said 'Cozy Nose...Tra.' And then 'mafia.' The first bit I don't get, but the second—"

He broke off as she erupted into a fit of giggles.

"What?" he snarled, nettled.

Bossanova shook her head, still laughing. "Cosa Nostra was an Old World Italian phrase adopted by the American Mafia. It roughly translates to, 'our thing.'"

She might as well have been speaking another language for all the sense this made to Gage. Or maybe she was? He stared at her, and she smiled.

"You want a history lesson?"

"Well…" Gage frowned at a dirty old skeleton on the floor. He was interested, despite himself. "Fuck it. Sure. It'll pass the time."

Bossanova nudged an upturned trash can with her foot as she unsheathed her sword, fussing over the bend in the blade again. Cito and the ghoulrilla licked each others wounds, apparently disinterested in the conversation. After a moment, Gage kicked aside an old skull and picking his way through the skeleton, deciding he might as well keep looking for the stupid passcode while she talked.

"What do you know about the Mafia?" she asked, not looking up from her sword.

"As far as I know, they were some pre-war gang who rolled in caps and did whatever the fuck they wanted." Gage stared off into the distance, lost in visions of wealth, luxury, and power. The raiders talked about them like the religious talked about Atom. He was brought back to earth by a loud sniffing in his ear. Cito was picking bugs out of Gage's hair and eating them. "Fuck off, Loincloth!"

Bossanova looked up as Gage waved Cito away with a hiss, and laughed again.

"You're right," Bossanova said, returning to her weapon, "for the most part. They had wealth and power, but they still had to navigate around the law, like I said. And they were mired with toxic tradition—only allowing Italian men into their ranks for most of their existence. By the time I joined, they realised they needed change to survive. In the end, if you could prove you had Italian heritage, it was irrelevant what was between your legs."

Gage frowned. Why would that matter to begin with? So long as you were good at killing, raiders didn't give a shit.

Bossanova gave a knowing smile at Gage's confusion, which must have shown on his face, and went on. "But non-Italians were still taboo. My attempts to bring the Irish Mob under mafia control were disastrous, and as a result I...retired. Organised crime floundered in the years after my departure. Only had a resurgence when the bombs fell."

Gage frowned. "You make it sound like you were old."

"I was old. Had my pension when the world ended, much to the annoyance of the cops. Being a ghoul does wonders for creaky joints."

Gage wasn't sure what 'cops' or a 'pension' were, nevermind whether he believed her claims or not. He decided it didn't matter.

"The Mafia was weak after I left. Turns out letting the Irish Mob butcher your leaders doesn't do much for keeping your hold on the city," she said bitterly. "Eddie Winters carved his way to the top of the Mob and put a puppet in my place. I changed my name and moved to the suburbs. Made friends. Kept my sword collection sharpened, just in case. By the time Raymond Patriarca got things back under control, the bombs dropped."

Bossanova shivered, her black eyes staring off into the distance, and for a moment it looked like her mind had been transported far away, swallowed by the horrors of her past. "I'll...I'll never forget it. The sky choked with dust and debris and radiation. I was miles from the epicentre, but I still felt my skin bubble and peel away. My neighbours melted in front of me. And the pain…"

She went quiet, gripping tightly at her sword. "Buildings were crumbling at random, people trapped beneath the rubble. Craters in the sidewalks. Bodies everywhere. The city reeked of the dead, and the living…" Bossanova motioned to her own face. "Most looked like me before they passed. Rotting from the inside out. I took refuge in a burnt out building. Too hurt to do much else, really."

Gage paused, his hand half in the pocket of the ragged remains of the clothes still clinging to the skeleton, listening intently. He'd never been one for the past. It was old and dead, and no use to anyone except scavenging. But this was...different.

"Old Ray became a ghoul, along with a good chunk of the family and the Irish Mob. Winters was nowhere to be seen, so the family took back its city." Bossanova smiled, holding the sword loose by her side. "They brought order to the apocalypse."

"Wait, what?"

Bossanova nodded. "Ray kept the chems out, and set to work on food, water, and the injured. People flocked for miles when they heard, all bending the knee to the wasteland's first godfather. Even the remnants of the police fell into line when it became obvious the military wasn't coming back."

"And where were you?"

"Kept out the way so I wouldn't waste their precious resources. Every day, lying in a burnt out building, waiting for the pain to just kill me, or the ceiling to collapse on me in my sleep. Every day I waited, and every day it never came." Bossanova bowed her head. When she looked up again, her gaze was sharp. "I got over myself quickly. Stopped being so pathetic—"

Glad we agree, Gage thought.

"—and went to see what I could do. If there was a price on my head, I'd make them remember who I was, and what happened to those who crossed me. I was reborn. But..."

Gage snorted. Always with the 'but.' "Lemmie guess—the guys with the guns weren't scared of a sword?"

Bossanova tilted her head and gave a strange smile. "You'd be surprised how many people hesitate when you run at them screaming and swinging a sharp bit of metal around. But no. By the time I'd pulled myself together, everything had fallen apart."

"Even by raider standards, that's impressive."

"Well, not everyone in the city was a ghoul. And those lucky enough not to be a walking corpse began to…grow suspicious of us. Didn't help that the first cases of ferals were cropping up. Ray was assassinated. Any ghouls not quick on the uptake followed him. The lucky ones went into hiding near the foundations of Goodneighbor. Today they are the Triggermen."

"No shit?" Gage mulled this information over in his head. He'd never really thought about where the Triggermen had come from before. He knew they were separate to the other ghouls in Goodneighbor, but…

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Bossanova went on with her tale.

"Frank Salemme was the one who whacked Ray," she said darkly, her expression sour. "He was nasty, even by Mafia standards. A pain to deal with in my day—making everything bloody, messy—bringing down the heat through his carelessness. He took over after he murdered Ray, and that's when things really went south.

"Frank decided the old ways weren't good enough anymore. If you wanted to be a made man, you played by his rules."

"What's a made—?"

"Mafioso. One of the family." Bossanova glanced over at Cito and the ghoulrilla, the former of which was stuck from the waist upwards inside a park trashcan. "Used to be you just took someone—almost anyone—out. Simple. Effective. Stopped the cops sneaking in, like Donnie Brasco near did. But this wasn't good enough for Salemme, oh no. Making one's bones was pointless in the new world. Anyone who wanted in had to kill a ghoul, and they had to bring proof. And if you weren't in Selemme's gang, you didn't get food or water or nothing."

"Smart," replied Gage without thinking. He shot Bossanova a sharp look, wondering how she would react, but she nodded thoughtfully instead.

"Yeah, it was smart. Made me prey for a while, though. Or so they thought. I hunted them down instead—slit some throats, skewered the rest, depending on who they were." Bossanova grinned. "Kept me on my toes and got me back into shape. In the end, Salemme was running on borrowed time anyway."

"Killed by a ghoul?"

"Killed by one of his own." Bossanova's grin widened. "Radiation gets everyone eventually. He rotted, and when his skin peeled away and his eyes blackened and his fingernails fell out—when he stood there, rasping like the rest of the ghouls—someone put a bullet in his head."

Gage snorted. "I'm sure that went down well."

"Naturally," Bossanova said with a mirthless laugh. "They'd had the power to keep things in order and they messed it up. Soon as they killed Ray, the city was doomed." She stretched her arms, and then turned her sword over in her hands. "Once Salemme got what was coming to him, the in-fighting began.

"New leaders declared every other day, food becoming scarce, and the water so irradiated people were dropping dead or turning to ghouls left, right, and centre. Finally, it all collapsed. The survivors splintered off into factions and began attacking anyone who crossed their paths." Bossanova paused, her gaze boring into Gage. "They were the first raiders."

Gage stared back, lost for words. Eventually he managed, "Raiders?" Bossanova nodded, and he hesitated before saying, "Raiders came from the Mafia?"

She nodded again.

"Well shit."

Bossanova burst out laughing. "Profound as ever, I see."

Gage grinned and shrugged. "What you want me to say? Ain't never expected raiders to have grand beginnings. I thought people were just good at being shitty to each other."

Bossanova shook her head. "That's all the Mafia has ever been." There was a moment's silence, then she strolled away.

Gage remained where he was, thinking. He watched Bossanova approach a rusting trailer and begin rattling the locked door. Gage had never thought about the origins of raiders before, and in all honesty, he'd never really cared. History wouldn't keep him alive. But when Bossanova spoke, he'd found himself enthralled. There was something about her that compelled him to listen.

Picking through the clothes again, he contemplated the power of her charisma when she'd had a nose.

A bang made Gage look up. Bossanova had apparently kicked the trailer, judging by the large dent in the door, and a bag had fallen off the roof. The contents were scattered all over the ground. She crouched down, picking through the debris, and then held up a small, silver something.

Gage got to his feet and drew closer. It was a key. Bossanova turned back to the trailer and tried the lock—the door swung open with a horrible, drawn out metallic scrape that set Gage's teeth on edge. Apparently unperturbed, Bossanova went inside leaving Gage to follow her. Amongst the debris was a skeleton in a lab coat and an orange toolbox on the side. Bossanova began patting down the skeleton, rooting through all the pockets—meanwhile, Gage was drawn to the toolbox. He flipped open the latch and threw back the lid while Bossanova continued her search, and spotted a holotape sat neatly on top of the tools inside the box. He picked it up, looked at the label, and smiled. "Boss?"

"Yeah?"

Gage held up the tape and tapped the peeling label so she could see the spidery, looping handwriting. "It's the Welcome Center passcode."

Bossanova stared from Gage to the tape and back again, her mouth slightly open. She blinked several times, as if hardly daring to believe what she could see. Then she said in an awed whisper, "You can read?"

"Yes, I can fucking read!"

"But...you can read cursive?"

"Oh fuck off."

They returned to the Welcome Center with no more interruptions. Gage watched as Bossanova tapped her way through the console outside the sealed door. She propped the scrap of paper she'd scrawled the passcode on against the screen and copied out the digits carefully, glancing around as she did. The terminal beeped and the door slid open.

The darkness beyond waited like an open maw. Gage shivered, staring into the heavy, compressing blackness. Bossanova hesitated, her sword at the ready, and held out a hand to keep Gage and the two idiots in their place. She stepped forward, each slow step barely making a sound, her weapon raised.

The source of the monsters were in here. For all they knew, they were walking into a teeming nest. If that was the case, Gage doubted they'd be able to clear them out alone.

Bossanova continued through the door, glancing from side to side. The darkness swallowed her whole.

Gage shifted on the spot, gripping his gun tight. A terrible, heavy silence was smothering him, raking at his nerves. She'd given clear instructions—stay here, keep watch while she scouted ahead. He'd argued Cito could do the honours, but Bossanova had cut him off with a, "Do you trust him to be our scout?"

No. No, he did not.

But the few seconds of silence were torturous. He wondered if the gatorclaws had caught her with no time to scream, or even—

"Gage," Bossanova's voice whispered, and he sighed with relief.

"Yeah?"

"There's a gatorclaw ahead. You ready?"

Gage aimed his rifle down the tunnel. "Nope."

The only positive of the battle was its shortness.

Gage contemplated how quickly it would take for a gatorclaw to shit him out, before the thing's tail hit him in the chest and sent him flying through a set of double doors.

He stared up at the ceiling, dazed, when he felt the crushing grip of the gatorclaw at his ankle, and yelled in pain as the back of his head scraped along the ground. Then Gage was dangling in the air, the beady yellow eyes piercing him as the thing opened its mouth.

Gage grabbed a grenade from his belt, primed it, and tossed it down the gatorclaw's throat.

The eyes widened, and it made a choking noise before dropping him. Gage anticipated the fall just in time, crashing painfully onto his shoulder instead of his head, and quickly scrambled away. The blast flung him off his feet again, and he felt something hot and wet splatter all down his back.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, peeling himself off the ground and gingerly sitting up.

Bossanova ran over sporting a bloody lip and a tense expression. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Gage muttered, batting away her helpful hands. "I'm fine. Jus' gimme a minute, damn." She crouched down next to him, worry etched into every line of her features, and he felt his anger simmer. "I appreciate the concern, boss, but I'm okay."

He stared at his stinging hands, which were raw and grazed, and then waved her away irritably, and she stood up, wandering over to the terminals in the back of the room. Cito and the ghoulrilla—both unscathed—were sitting near the entrance of this dingy, underground atrium, eating the glowing plants in the dilapidated flower bed. Gage was surprised they weren't poisonous.

Bossanova disappeared through the set of double doors he'd been thrown through, and came out a few minutes later clutching Gage's gun and a couple of holotapes. She thrust the gun into his hands and walked over to the terminal, inserting one of the tapes into the machine.

Seconds later a voice filtered out of the sputtering speakers. Gage barely paid attention, checking his gun wasn't damaged instead. It was the same guy who had created the gatorclaws—McDermot or whatever his name was—and he liked to talk. But then something caught Gage's attention.

"...continuing to modify the Nuka-Gen Replicator to provide a source of food."

"Gage," Bossanova said from across the room, her face lighting up with delight, "do you know what this means?"

"Mm?"

"Weren't you listening?"

"Nope," Gage lied. He took a strange delight in annoying her.

"This could mean food for Nuka World forever," Bossanova snapped, glaring at him. "The amount of trade we could generate with this alone—"

"—as long as the Nuka-Gen Replicator continues to function, I'll have an endless supply of food for—"

"An endless supply of food so long as the power supplies hold out," Gage interrupted lazily, earning himself an irritated scowl.

"So you were listening!"

"Don't matter whether I was or I wasn't, if we can't control what this thing makes, and if it ain't got no power."

"—Dr. Hein would be proud of my accomplishment. It's sad—"

Bossanova opened her mouth to argue, when she froze. Her entire body stiffened, her hand gripping her sword once again.

—it's been so long, I've almost forgotten what he looked like. My God—it's been decades now, maybe even a century or more, hasn't it? Has it been so long? I...I'll...I'll continue recording later."

Bossanova slowly looked down to stare at the terminal, as if lost in another world. Gage gave her a good ten seconds out of bewilderment at her sudden silence, and then said, "Boss?"

She turned to him, blinking as if surprised to see him there, and then slowly shook her head. "I've never thought about it before," she said weakly, gazing at a distant point over Gage's shoulder, "but I don't remember what...I don't...I never had photos after the bombs…"

"Nicky?" Gage asked, startling himself that he'd remembered. Bossanova looked equally taken aback, but she nodded.

"Yes. Nicky." Her face became blank, and she shook her head. "Hurry up with your weapon checks. This place won't clear itself out." She strode off, her gnarled hands clutching tight around the hilt of her sword.

Gage sighed. He was almost getting used to her mood swings now. But he decided to sit and glower a bit longer to emphasise his displeasure.

After a few minutes of being sufficiently grumpy, he got to his feet, wincing. Everything ached and stung, and they still had plenty to do. Not for the first time, he suspected they wouldn't be finishing this job in one go. But at least if they figured out where the gatorclaws were coming from the rest could fall into place later.

He poked around the atrium a little, using a console to unlock an old cold storage room. All the fridges inside were empty, but he noticed an open vent near the top of the room, its grate hanging on by one rusted bolt.

All in all, not much loot to be had.

Disappointed, he made his way back down the stairs and towards Bossanova, who was reading through something on one of the other terminals. She didn't say what it was, and Gage didn't trouble himself to ask. Instead, he whistled through his teeth at Cito and the ghoulrilla, Chris. They loped over, alert and ready, and Gage begrudgingly admired their tenacity. Bossanova straightened up, glancing towards the doors leading to the next room, and caught his eye. She gave a slight nod, an unspoken agreement passing between them as they hung back and let Cito move ahead. Best to keep the meat shields up front.

Just in case.

#nuka world #porter gage #fallout 4 #fallout #mob #Making One's Bones

5 notes · View notes

mspaleoart · 6 years ago

Photo

Juramaia – Late Jurassic (160 Ma)

Just who is this beautiful boy? This chubby, shrew-looking fellow? He’s only a few inches long, and he has a sharp little nose. His name is Juramaia, and if you went back about 120 million generations, your ancestor would look something like him.

Juramaia was discovered in Liaoning, China, in 2011. Recent enough that if you’ve been following paleontology for a while, you may have heard of him. China has, since the beginning of this century, been a treasure trove of important fossils. We first found feathers on a Chinese dinosaur named Sinosauropteryx. We also found Juramaia, who is absurdly important to our understanding of mammal history.

Juramaia is a basal Eutherian. Eutherians are, simply put, living mammals who aren’t marsupials or monotremes. In fact, this is the oldest known Eutherian to date. We can’t say for sure that Juramaia is our direct ancestor. In fact, he’s probably not, statistically speaking. But he’s close enough to give us tons of insight into our origins.

When the first true mammals evolved depends on how you define a mammal. The late Paleozoic was ruled by a group of animals known as synapsids. These were our earliest ancestors and cousins, sometimes called proto-mammals. Originally considered a subclass of reptiles, we now know that they diverged from basal amniotes around the same time as reptiles, and have much more in common with mammals, anyway. They’re still popularly referred to as mammal-like reptiles, though that term is outdated. The terminology is a bit confusing, since synapsids also include true mammals, but I’ll use ‘synapsid’ here to mean the same thing as ‘proto-mammal.’

So, even when synapsids first appear in the fossil record in the late Caboniferous, they look distinctly mammalian on the inside. Their skulls have holes behind the eye socket, a trait shared by all their ancestors (fun fact, we lost this trait; our skull temples are the recently-closed secondary holes of the skull). They don’t have scales, either, so if you see a scaly Dimetrodon or Gorgonops, the portrayal is either outdated or incorrect. Synapsids also developed a semi-erect gait, something halfway between that of an alligator and a deer, for reference. Synapsids also immediately show the variety of teeth mammals eventually came to be most known for in paleontology. Towards the end of the Permian, they even develop bristles and fur.

By the Triassic period, we have the Cynodonts, a group so close to mammals that they’re easily mistaken for them. We aren’t quite at mammals yet, though. Cynodonts are pretty uncontroversially considered proto-mammals, but they’re definitely considered transitional. It’s when you move a few million years up that things get dicey. Animals like Megazostrodon and Morganucodon appear in the late Triassic, and they’re almost indistinguishable from a shrew or mouse. Plenty of people consider Megazostrodon and company to be the most basal mammals. This gets into what I talked about in Westlothiana’s writeup. These animals are so close together, and so close to the symbolic gulf between proto-mammal and true mammal that it’s almost impossible to come to agreement on which it is. In The Ancestor’s Tale, Richard Dawkins has a policy of not getting too hung-up on labels when dealing with these animals, and I think that’s a good rule of thumb.

Juramaia, though, is unambiguously a mammal. It has every trait we associate with the class today, and was a card-carrying member of the group that would eventually become the majority of mammals we know today. Most mammals looked a lot like Juramaia during the Mesozoic, with a few glorious exceptions. Most of our 100+ greats grandparents were relegated to exploiting the lower niches of nocturnal insectivores. Make no mistake, though, we flourished under the footfalls of dinosaurs, and spread all over the world. We made the most of that strategy for 100 million years, until there was room to diversify. If you can believe it, we—that is, mammals as a whole—retain a lot of holdovers from our stint as tiny nocturnals. Juramaia is an animal with just about all of those traits.

Think about some defining features of mammals. I don’t necessarily mean technical stuff, like bone structure and all that. That’s irrelevant to this particular point. You’d be surprised by how many of those traits are the result of 100 million years as pseudo-shrews:

Most mammals have dull coloration. Most of us are brown or tan or gray or black. Being the same color as the dirt or decaying leaves is very advantageous to a tiny animal that sleeps all day and spends all night worrying about being eaten by other animals. And remember that dinosaurs probably hunted primarily with eyesight, considering how good birds are at it. The color of our fur is a relic from when we needed camouflage to survive.

Your typical mammal has scent as their strongest sense, with hearing close behind. On top of that, they have terrible eyesight. It can be hard to remember that since we’re an exception, but it’s true for almost all non-primate mammals. Nocturnal animals tend to have poor color vision, trading off detail for the ability to see in as little light possible. Scent and hearing are really good traits for an animal that can’t and doesn’t need to see that well, too. It’s also worth mentioning that mammals on the whole have a well-developed sense of touch. It’s weird to think that other animals aren’t as good at feeling things as us, but it seems to be true.

Even fur and warm-bloodedness might be holdovers from Mammals: Nights. They might have served to keep us warm in dry places, where it would get much colder at night. Since we weren’t sleeping at night, it was important to have a mechanism to stay warm.

All of these points, are bundled together in a theory called the “Nocturnal Bottleneck.” There isn’t much evidence of nocturnality in other groups of animals back in the day, which suggests mammals pretty much had that niche on lockdown. Juramaia displays all of these traits, and it’s easy to see how an animal like this eventually diversified into the mammals we have today, who, despite having all kinds of shapes and roles, still retain some traits that betray their nocturnal heritage.

So, like an evolutionist in a Jack Chick comic, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to frame a picture of one of this guy and label it “Daddy.” Or maybe something like “Great Grandpa,’ because, I mean, “Daddy” has some implications in this age when nothing is sacred.

#juramaia #eutheria #stem mammals #mammals #jurassic #mesozoic #paleoart #palaeoart #paleontology #palaeontology #paleoblr #palaeoblr #prehistoric

48 notes · View notes

ayellowbirds · 7 years ago

Photo

Keshet Rewatches All of Scooby-Doo, Pt. 7: "Never Ape An Ape Man"

("Scooby-Doo, Where Are You", Season 1 Episode 7)

AKA "The One Where Shaggy Eviscerates An Ape"

Following last episode’s new trend, the opening is not onto a spooky scene of the episode’s villain being ominous and threatening. A long, simple bridge of rope and planks spans a gorge in the mountains, and the view pans over to the lighting and equipment of a film crew, continuing further to the cast and crew trailers, and at last to the gang, plus one.

Daphne’s uncle John Maxwell has offered the gang a part in his movie as extras, and the reveal that Daphne has family is the very first time we have any clue that the gang are anything other than homeless orphans living out of the Mystery Machine.

But Uncle John needs the gang more than they need this work, because "the local people” (and he says that in a very specific way, like it was the name of a budget cover band for The Village People, or all one word, “localpeople”) are scared off by their belief in a genuine Ape Man who was involved in the burning down of an old mansion some years back.

So, John is the kind of pretentious auteur who decides to base his movie on an unsolved violent cryptid attack and then film it on location in the place where that occurred. If this were a horror flick, he’d die a gruesome and ironic death later on.

Pictured: impending ironic death. Yes, that’s in the same scene as the screencap above. No, nobody seems to notice the Ape Man looming menacingly behind John.

We’re soon introduced to “Candy Mint”, the hopefully pseudonymous star of John’s picture, a drawling blonde who has to run out onto the aforementioned bridge while the stuntman Carl threatens her in the role of the Ape Man.

I have to question where the “man” part comes in with the Ape Man, because that just looks like a regular cartoon gorilla. The critter turns out to be someone or something other than Carl, and tries to legitimately hurl Candy from the bridge... but Scooby rushes to the rescue!

Now, Scooby is, by and large, a coward. The gang repeatedly call him a “ham” for his pretending to be too injured or sickly to enter into dangerous situations, and the theme song even calls him out on this, “pretending you’ve got a sliver”.

But if someone else is in danger? Scooby will not hesitate to act. He charges the Ape Man, steadies the bridge with his own paws, and narrowly avoids falling into the gorge and even bounces up three times to attack the Ape Man, rabbit-punching him in the face, kicking him in the gut, and then knocking him over the head and into the gorge!

The Ape Man left in a broken heap of bloody bones at the bottom of a canyon err, I mean, "sent packing” and disappeared, the gang and Uncle John go looking for the missing stuntman.

Because this is an episode of Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?, a decrepit old building is a must-have, and the gang start to investigate the part of the movie set that is built onto the ruins of the old mansion the Ape Man supposedly burned down. While splitting up, Fred and Daphne specifically the others that the set was built to make a scary movie, and they should watch out for trap doors.

Scooby’s response to this is almost completely incomprehensible with his “accent”. The subtitles on the DVD assume he’s saying, “Trap doors? Hidden bedrooms?”, but that second part makes no sense, and i think he’s asking about “hidden panels”.

The investigation turns up things like a half-eaten hamburger with claw marks, and... the world’s strangest looking pet parrot?

The parrot serves mostly as a distraction, so that the trio don’t notice that the growl of the Ape Man comes from somewhere else, and the primate someone pushes at Shaggy is a stuffed dummy on a wheeled platform... leading to one of the more recently memetic scenes from the series:

They just don’t make taxidermies like they used to. The next clue is found when the gang gather back up in... why yes, it’s another private library! Someone’s left the script for the movie out in the mansion’s reading room, open to the scene that was being shot that day.

“Hey, did you know that in the film, people mysteriously vanished in this room?” Freddie asks without any hint of irony or recognition that he himself had warned others to watch out for trap doors, just before Daphne unknowingly triggers a switch that opens a panel behind Fred and causes him to pitch backwards.

Karma, you burly blond bitch. That’s what you get for all the “danger-prone Daphne” cracks.

Meanwhile, the Ape Man watches through a gap in the bookshelves, and slips on a flawless Scooby Doo mask, down to the SD tag on the collar. It’s only been three damn episodes since the last time we had a “villain pretends to be Scooby’s reflection” bit, and but at least this time they had the decency to meticulously prepare an improbable replica of Scooby’s features and accessories.

Once again, Scooby faces down the Ape Man, previous claims of cowardice seeming to vanish in the face of the “actual” primate as he barks and growls at it, forcing the villain to back away.

This courage doesn’t last, however, and the gang have to bribe Scooby and Shaggy to serve as bait to lure the Ape Man into a trap in the basement. Why is it always the basement? We’ve yet to see one of these episodes reach its climax in the attic, or by the front door. Velma puts on a bit of a show, doing a sort of semi-juggle with the Scooby Snacks while telling Scooby he’ll get a bonus one afterwards, as if she were a card dealer sorting out the deck...

Meanwhile, Shaggy has tired of the delicious taste of dog treats, and says Scooby Snacks won’t do it for him: lucky thing Daphne has been carrying around an entire damn pie with her this whole time, completely out of view and pulled from some pocket dimension for keeping baked goods warm.

What’s in a Shaggy Snack, you wonder? Why, it’s simple! You make a pot pie, but use the crust recipe for a pizza pie instead, and fill it with anchovies, pepperoni... okay, so it’s a pizza pot pie?

Nope, because it’s also got cherries, and the whole thing is in a chocolate sauce.

This is all the motivation Norville “Shaggy” Rogers needs.

Of course, the plan is foiled once again when Scooby bumbles into Velma, messing up her glasses. In all the parodies and deconstructions of Scooby Doo that go into the subject of trap-building, it’s rarely stated: they just don’t work. Or rather, the gang fail to execute them properly, and the villain is invariably captured by either someone crashing into them, or being otherwise immobilized in some unintended fashion. This time around, the gang continue searching, and manage to trip up the Ape Man during yet another chase scene, causing him to slip into a closet and wind up under a pile of junk.

Meanwhile, Shaggy reveals a photo he took just as the chase began, in a moment where he caught the Ape Man without his mask. Back when this episode was made, the idea of an instant (or “jiffy”, as Shaggy puts it) camera was a novelty, so it’s possible it was included here just because it was neat.

But, here’s the thing:

They’ve already captured the Ape Man. There’s no reason to look at the photo. They can just take off his mask, and find out that, as the photo shows, it was Carl the stuntman all along. The scene cuts to a room with a log fire, where the gang and Uncle John discuss Carl’s motivations of jealousy and career growth... and Shaggy shows a little souvenir he picked up.

(like what i’m doing here? It’s not what pays the bills, so i’d really appreciate it if you could send me a bit at my paypal.me or via my ko-fi. Click here to see more entries in this series of posts, or here to go in chronological order)

#scooby doo #KRAOSD

49 notes · View notes

the-firebird69 · 3 years ago

Text

Did a really good day yesterday tons of things opened up huge amounts of land and giant areas tons of s are gone. It won't let anything slip here system commenting very rude need to be put down right now ridiculous to put up with it as he says and I'm going to stand in the meeting and say no because of what he's done for us and he's demanding it now and nobody's listening she's toast all these idiots sleep nothing and we're going to sit here with this morons on top of us it's ridiculous it's obscene and absurd look at this moron sitting here can't even think at all telling us stupid things to do and worse a huge baby it's how tall is dangerous what we're doing to him and them it's not right and yourself I'm going to pose a problem if they continue so why don't we call a meeting put in a nice suggest that we move people that are hazardous to be just like anybody would and we stop doing it for some reason we shall.

So he ripped out tons of here and keep saying that and it's going to be absurd at some point and it is it gross the facts are ridiculous there's no reason for them being alive your brother just went around and shot them all and they're still here like idiots so true shoot them here every 5 minutes. I now understand the problem the two valid the two gross and too dumb then you put in the smarter people and becomes a problem so he says is you take them over there just should remember once in a while and don't let him do it themselves obviously it's a solution. So we had a good day we discovered that this place here does not need to be kept with a monster under us cuz we can get the things out of here fill the tubes up broke the balls out sent them out and most of them are out it's only a few left and their balls and he says can you fit him out can we get them out of here I decided something he's telling us to move it and we're not and he's telling us to move it and we're not and he's using his own forces and that is shaking his head saying I'm molking him or something. What are those were working on it and we're on the side but he wants them the hell out of there now I want them out I've said it over and over doesn't mean that I don't these people are extremely impressive it's disgusting what they're saying all the time and I know you don't want to hear it and I don't want to hear it at all and I hear it all the time and this is a solution that's going to alleviate that a little it's going to help us win so getting them out if you can fit the balls out take them out I don't care what the storm and then we'll concentrate on getting ready for rains a little to make Steam whatever and get him out. It's embarrassing me either having us waite for the storm.

Resume it is having the spelling happen I understand something that they're not powerless and they are messing around with us we do see them postponing it now we see why do and taking all that stuff out I'm starting to see something it's a huge hassle I was hoping that people would listen to me more so I was having the same problem with everybody but you know it doesn't go the way we want or insist all the time it still works but I want to say that most of my stuff works and in this case I've been just completely bothered by these people and you have to understand that I'm leadership and you're being bothered by them and we have to give ourselves a break it's duty if we're going to endure all this crap and have excuses for things getting messed up that we don't want I mean that's the way it is we're doing all the stuff and we don't have to that's another thing and we don't have to and everybody keeps on jamming it to me including me I might stop jamming it to me and get the damn balls out I don't care what anybody's doing today I want them to to put it on hold for a minute and have someone else handle it and get these stupid things around here and get that stupid casual out of here and we'll use that storm to cover something else I don't know what nose picking. So sitting here thinking about it and we're all tired I was sick of these people and we hear you say it also we can hear them saying we're tired of you jamming it to us I don't care you're told not to I'm going to f*** you up that's the part where I f*** you up because you keep doing it if you can't remember it I don't care if you try s*** I kill you if it feels bad thank God. Did you hear this too so your postponing it so we're going to go through your crap if you are there and see why he's been doing it was all sorts of things now I see why and he wants anything up so we're going to put it up it's taking too long it's way too many excuses you came up with almost all the solutions so it's aggravating and you want him to be aggravated what is aggravated with you so it's kind of this odd conundrum the more you aggravate him the more he hates you and the more powerful he gets against you and it's absolutely true you admits he's there the ones next to me bothering me it's 100% obvious there's no one on earth who would miss it their pets get it sharks get it tigers get it all these animals that are stuck with you get it you people are abusive and you do it on purpose primates get it without even thinking

Everyone hates you people the animal kingdom my people your own people hate you and see what you're doing and can't stand you they're going on shooting all your people all day looks like Mr wick shot every single one of you and your mouths are open and flapping and you're bothering people. It's a huge mystery no you're assholes you need to be taught a lesson and getting this thing out of here I'll teach you a lesson I don't want to wait two more days for Tuesday damned afternoon and nothing happens just poof or oh I have to go to a shelter with a bunch of f****** more lunatic people than we're here that's funny it's not true no no I need some assistance and I need it now yesterday years ago

I'm going to pull that thing out of there if I have to go pull it out by hand and you can just have hair to it get out your lazy bones just sitting here this fat crap so sometimes I do that and I tell myself very carefully because I get sensitive I want this out now so father has to come here and do the damn job and see these people blow real bad that's why I think they're avoiding it I'm saying if we pay for you not being here later okay well you've got a test right over there probably tested it it's fort Myers and they don't really know it's there or some do you know exactly what to do and have to test and I figured it out it's going to be tricky super a whole bunch of assholes so he understands that just needs to be told that made into an animal like we are starting to get gross what we're doing to him he's starting to get mean and mad about it it's become very powerful because of it and we keep on laying them off and screwing around with them and then it is f****** complete piles of s*** dick with him he says a treatment is so low that that's what they want to do you have to start firing

0 notes

koryos · 8 years ago

Note

Dear Koryos: Can you imagine a universe wherein bats have become the ancestors of some kind of Highly Intelligent Life Form (not necessarily humanlike intelligence, but something as different from today-bats as humans are different from Ancient Primate Ancestor)? I originally just was thinking about what kind of Cultural Norms such beings would have, but then I realized I couldn't really imagine anything except bat-shaped things that more or less thought like humans.

I’ve sat on this question a while because it’s such an interesting one to me. The biggest issue here is that you’d have to specify which bats you’re making your theoretical ancient ancestor, because there’s such a vast diversity of behavior within the group. A vampire bat would be different from a sac-winged bat would be different from a hoary bat would be different from a flying fox ancestor, is what I’m saying. Any social or behavioral organization paradigm that you can think of, there’s a bat that has it.

So to think about what a sapient bat would look like, we first need to assess the intelligence and behavior of possible ancestral bats. And here I’m gonna stick a readmore, because this gets looooong.

Assessing which species would make a good sapience ancestor based on intelligence is also tricky, in large part because bat intelligence remains mostly under-examined. Bats as a whole share the rough reproductive hallmarks of other intelligent mammals and birds, in that they have long lifespans and small litter sizes (in most cases, a single pup). They also have unusually high whole brain size and EQs for their body size, though this is often attributed to the fact that they need more brain matter to handle echolocation.

However, if you look at EQs across Chiroptera, the general trend is that vampire bats and flying foxes tend to have the largest, followed by bulldog bats, false vampire bats, the fruit and nectar eating bats of Phyllostomidae, followed by most other Yinpterochiropteran groups, and then finally the remainder of the insectivorous bats. The authors of the particular paper I’m referencing suggest that this has to do with lifestyle- bats that specialize on blood, fruit, or non-insect prey may require more intelligence to solve the unique problems posed by their food sources compared to insect-eating bats. But the authors do admit that insect-eating bats may also have been constrained by the need to keep their brains smaller and lighter to allow for faster flight, and it’s entirely possible they’re doing more with less. (Also, it’s important to remember that EQ is an imperfect method for assessing intelligence anyway.)

More than one insectivorous bat species is known to have vocal learning and the capacity to imitate, and it’s highly likely that many others do, given the complexity of bat vocal repertoires. Fruit bats, particularly the Egyptian fruit bat, also display vocal imitation. This is considered pretty smart stuff, and among animals only humans, birds, cetaceans (dolphins and whales), pinnipeds (seals), and elephants are known to be regular vocal imitators, putting the bats in a pretty high-class group. Some researchers are now arguing that bats are better candidates for studying the development of human language than birds are, given their closer relationship to us and various other similarities between our vocalizations. There’s even some emerging evidence that some species of bats may recognize each other by vocal signals unique to each individual (in other words, names). In spite of all this, bat vocalizations remain largely understudied, but it’s clear all their chatter serves a purpose.

I bring up all these points because I like reminding people how smart and cool bats are because it emphasizes that intelligence matters in different ways to each bat group, but all of them show the potential for vocal complexity that could approach that of a human’s. So wherever our theoretical sapient bat comes from, it’s likely to be noisy. (Though maybe at frequencies we can’t hear.) Now, if we look at other measures of intelligence such as tool use and environment manipulation, the evidence is more on the side of fruit-eating bats, specifically flying foxes. Though I’ve never seen one use a tool per se, they are perfectly capable solving complex problems using object manipulation. For example, pulling a plastic chain up link by link to get fruit attached to the end involves a similar amount of intelligence as the animals in that famous raven-gets-meat-on-a-string study. They’re also capable of figuring out grenade feeders (feeders in which “pins” have to be removed to make the food drop out) and sometimes will carry around small objects for no apparent reason.

The unusually long thumbs of flying foxes allow them to manipulate objects with surprising precision and they may also use their feet and even wingtips to this end. Object manipulation is part of their natural repertoire (for example, pulling a branch closer to get at something tasty). This separates them somewhat from non-frugivorous bats, who don’t usually need to manipulate objects in pursuit of food- blood-drinking bats just gotta find a spot to bite, carnivorous and piscivorous bats swoop down like hawks, and the most manipulation I’ve seen an insect-eater do is use their tail membrane as a scoop to toss a bug into their mouth. If you want a sapient bat with lots of tool use, fruit-eaters are your likely ancestral group.

However, bats can alter their environment and get better access to food in quite intelligent ways without using objects. Here we ought to look at vampire bats. The white-winged vamipre bat, which feeds primarily on the blood of birds, has co-opted the behavior of domestic chickens in at least two ways. Some bats may perch on the exact spot on a hen’s back that causes her to assume the lordosis posture (i.e., the bout-to-get-boned posture) and feed from the back of her comb with her holding completely still. Others will press up against her brood patch, imitating a particularly goblin-faced little chick, causing her to nestle down on it as the vampire has its meal. This is incredible stuff, as these tactics couldn’t be utilized against their traditional avian prey- meaning the bats have learned how to manipulate chickens all on their own!

Common vampire bats prefer hoofed mammals to birds, and given the larger size of their prey usually don’t have to resort to such nefarious tactics to stay unnoticed. But their creativity also shines when their normal (at this point, human-introduced) prey isn’t available, and they proceed to feed on whatever they can find- which might include sea lions, rats, crocodiles, porcupines, turtles, and even venomous snakes. Each of these critters requires a different strategy on the bat’s part, but apparently the bats tackle the situation with ease. Indeed, one account tells of a vampire bat taunting a rat snake, easily avoiding each strike, until the snake was too exhausted to do anything as the bat brazenly sipped blood from its nose. It should be noted that this particular snake species specializes on feeding on bats.

So in comparison to a sapient fruit bat, a sapient vampire bat might be much more focused on manipulating the behavior of other species, perhaps even domesticating animals for its own use. I should mention, however, that one species of vampire bat- the hairy-legged vampire bat- has evolved a kind of opposable thumb on its foot (a sixth digit fashioned from the calcar), not found in any other bat species. It uses this thumb to help it grip branches as it scuttles around nibbling bird toes, but if you were to make it sapient, you might imagine that instead of the thumb-based object manipulation seen in pteropodids, this fellow would manipulate stuff with its feet. (No relation to the horrible Dougal Dixon futurebats, though, please.)

Speaking of horrible future bats, most of the speculative future bats I’ve seen have two things in common- a) flightlessness and b) a loss of vision in order to rely primarily on echolocation. But neither of these things are really plausible. I’ve discussed why it’s highly unlikely for bats to evolve flightlessness before, so I won’t go into too much detail here, but suffice it to say that unlike birds, which sometimes seem to drop flight as soon as they can get away with it, no bat has evolved to be flightless even when in the most prime conditions. The degree of specialization they have for flight would make it pretty hard to go back to a terrestrial lifestyle, in fact- at best I can imagine a short-flighted bat that flaps from tree to tree.

Some might argue that evolving the brainpower for sapience would necessitate flightlessness because of how heavy and energy-draining such a big brain would be, but just because that’s how humans do it doesn’t mean it HAS to be done that way: look at the brain sizes of highly intelligent birds, such as corvids and parrots- still flying, and quite well. (And the birds that HAVE evolved secondary flightlessness aren’t exactly known for their brainpower). I couldn’t find any information on the neuronal density of bat brains, but I’d bet that it’s higher than expected, given the dizzying amount of calculations that have to take place in an echolocating, flying, insectivorous bat’s head to be successful.

Sightlessness is as unlikely in bats as flightlessness... again, no bat species we know of, living or extinct, has lost its vision! In fact most bats have pretty good vision, despite the reduced size of the eyes of some species. No bat species lives in complete darkness all the time, which would be what would render vision obsolete- vision is still better off than echolocation when it comes to spotting daytime/dawn/dusk/moonlight predators on the move.

Granted, some species have almost lost the ability to see forward due to specialization for echolocation, I’ll give you that...

But they still have quite nice eyes. (And note how slits in the noseleaf allow for a little forward vision.)

In any case if our hypothetical bat evolved from a pteropodid/flying fox it wouldn’t have any echolocation at all, because they don’t echolocate, with the exception of Rousettus species, who do it via tongue-clicking. (And there’s some evidence that other pteropodids have like, a ~mystery~ version of echolocation using their wings, but we hardly know anything about that right now.) Pteropodids are also largely crepuscular- active at dawn/dusk- rather than fully nocturnal, as well, and their primary sense is vision, which accounts for their sometimes inappropriately large eyes.

Speaking large-eyed, fruit eating critters, I can say with confidence that the behavior of large pteropodids I worked with reminded me very much of the macaques I’d once worked with. Even though it’s been debunked that bats and primates are close relatives, I think large flying fox behavior is very similar to cercopitheceine primate behavior (as well as spotted hyena behavior in some ways). Their social organization is a mixed-sex, hierarchical, fission-fusion sort of society, where mating is promiscuous, coalitions can form around power grabs, and competition for spotty resources is quite fierce. Infantacide does occur in fruit bats as in primates, though I’m not sure if there’s been any study on how common it is.

Compare this to the social structure of the common vampire bat, though. Female vampire bats will shift roosts freely and form multiple-matriline groups, usually with a single or two or three males in attendance. These males defend their “harems” from other males, but there’s not much evidence for female policing as in primates, given that females regularly swap roosts; rather, the males seem focused on defending the favorable roosts themselves.

In addition, female vampire bats are pretty famous models of reciprocal altruism, that is, I’ll-scratch-your-back-if-you-scratch-mine behavior. Because they feed entirely on blood, the bats can’t build up any fat reserves, and over 24 hours without feeding can starve them. To combat this, they have a complex network of blood donors (via regurgitation, not vein-piercing) that they turn to in times of need; it’s based on kinship but even more so on how familiar they are with the bat in question, and whether or not they give blood as well when it’s their turn.

Spectral bats are strict carnivores that eat rodents, lizards, birds, and other bats. They’re notable for being a monogamous species, with two parents raising one pup together while defending a hunting territory, and in some cases the offspring of previous years may stick around to help as well, in the manner of canids and some bird species. An even more exceptional monogamous bat is the Dayak fruit bat, where males lactate as well as females. Check out the armpit-nipples of the lactating male, below.

Many other bats have lek breeding systems, like the hammerhead bat, where males congregate together to perform for females, but otherwise the sexes live separately; other species have males that fly completely solo and sing like birds to attract a mate; in other species like the hoary bat both sexes normally live solitary lives.

Most cave-dwelling insectivorous bats stay in sex-segregated groups until it comes time for hibernation, in which case they cluster together in caves, mate, and nap. Social behavior among these species is probably the most poorly understood, given that they are often tucked into near-unreachable places during the day.

Of course, the social behavior in the vast majority of all bat species hasn’t been studied at all, so who knows what other forms their societies might take? I particularly await with eagerness the discovery of a polyandrous bat species similar to tamarins and marmosets... It’s not unfeasible, given the large size of newborn bats (a pup may be up to 1/3 the weight of its mother) and the fact that they often need to be carried rather than hidden, meaning poor mom has gotta carry them while flying, and in some species it can take two years or more before they’re able to survive on their own- as in our small primate cousins, having two dads could really make life easier. I mean... look how big this newborn ghost bat pup is. (And if you’re brave, watch this evening bat giving birth... that looks painful.)

Anyway.

An important indicator of high intelligence would be a great degree of behavioral flexibility (which can lead to transmitted culture) within a species. I don’t think the social behavior of any bat has been studied thoroughly enough to assess how flexible their lifestyles are between groups, but I would bet vampire bats are among some of the most adaptive, as well as some of the most socially receptive and cooperative.

On the other hand I would love to do a study on observational learning in pteropodid bats; I bet they’d do really well. It’s already been shown that they can learn to understand and respond to human pointing gestures.

I guess my ultimate point is, you could expect a sapient bat to behave very differently based on its ancestral lifestyle and morphology (especially whether or not it echolocates) but sapience would imply a degree of behavioral diversity that wouldn’t be limited to any one set of cultural norms. Which is why I hesitate to say any sapient bat would behave just like such-and-such species, but smarter.

It would be very interesting, though, to design a theoretical culture based on creatures that are flighted (travel would be much easier, but energy requirements much higher, how are the flightless elderly cared for?), or one that drinks blood (would certain species’ blood become taboo? what sorts of species might they domesticate and how would they keep them?), one that primarily hangs upside-down in branches (artificial perches would have to go everywhere), or most especially, one that echolocates. I can only imagine the diverse sorts of oral traditions that an echolocating sapient species would have.

Hope this long, long answer gave you at least some degree of what you were looking for! And thanks for the question.

#Anonymous #learning with koryos #bat #speculative evolution #animal cognition

496 notes · View notes

loveafterthefact · 4 years ago

Text

Love After the Fact Chapter 59: What Do I Do Now?

Even adults sometimes want their parents.

First Previous Next

Lance is lying on his back, the perfect pillow for Keith, nestled against his side, and BleepBloop, wedged between them. He's got his tail wrapped around the Altean's waist. They’re on a blanket under a tree, the warmth of the early afternoon a balm against their skin. After the unpleasant morning, Keith’s glad to spend some time curled up with his chosen mate. Just lie here and inhale Lance’s scent, soak up his warmth, absorb the rhythm of his breathing. They match breath for breath, primary heartbeat to heartbeat.

Despite his content, Keith can’t quite find sleep. He’s restful, sleepy, but there’s too much going on inside his head. He can’t help but think of Thace’s words, the notes on his test results.

“Perfect Health.”

The problem with perfect health? It means Keith has to consider his responsibilities and weigh them against what he really and truly wants.

Part of him doesn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction. All these people standing around wondering when he’s gonna push one out. They’re probably all milling about on Altea right now, gossiping about how he’s going to come back pregnant. They don’t deserve it. They don’t deserve Lance, they don’t deserve him, and they definitely won’t deserve his kits. Because obviously his kits will be perfect and beautiful and theirs, and therefore unworthy of anyone else.

Additionally, he doesn’t want to become a breeder. He has other things he still wants to do. He doesn’t want to sit around inside a castle and push out kits. Some of his species seem content with that life (probably because they’re just fucking nuts), but Keith is a warrior, and a leader (he’s trying), and someday he’d like to be an explorer. He still has dreams of a big life. The idea of his sex suddenly become a restraint bothers him.

But... He has responsibilities, both to his people and Lance’s. He doesn’t really care about elevating himself in Galra society. His friends within the Blade of Marmora and his family are enough for him. All the same, he wants to contribute to his race, be it because of Zarkon’s brainwashing or his own personal desires. Plus, he kind of needs to provide Lance an heir. It’s literally his only purpose, politically speaking.

“Perfect Health.”

What perfect health means is that his excuse is gone. Time to spread his legs!- Or so he’d think, except Lance is perfectly content to wait. Lance isn't even nineteen, and he's only just barely approaching twenty. Insanely young to be parents, even if that’s the expectation. They could absolutely wait if they wanted to…

And Keith definitely wanted to. But with that one phrase, “Perfect Health”, he can’t help but wonder.

He’s in this bad spot where no matter what he does, someone will end up mad at him. Possibly Alfor, which would be extremely inconvenient. Possibly Lance, which would break his heart. Possibly himself, which would just be par for the course at this point.

He taps Lance on the shoulder, waits for his eyes to flutter open. “I’m going to go find Shiro. Will you be alright on your own?”

Lance nods, humming an affirmative, already falling back asleep. Keith presses their lips together, Lance’s response sleepy but nonetheless sweet for it. “I love you.”

The Altean hums again, smiling his way back into a doze. That’s another thing: Lance really is sweet, and he’s been desperate to make Keith happy since before he even arrived on Altea. Bond or no bond, he feels like he owes Lance something. Which is stupid and not rational since Lance doesn’t want fuck all from him except support and affection, but Keith has a few anxieties when it comes to family.

After giving BleepBloop a goodbye pat, Keith heads out. Once he’s arrived at the compound, it takes him a minute to find Shiro. He’s in the yard, training some new recruits. “Hey, Keith. How’s it going?”

“So-so. You?”

“Well enough.” Shiro frowns. “What’s bothering you- Watch your footing, Klai. A good breeze would knock you over!”

“Thace says I’m well enough for a kit this first season. And I have to have at least two before too long.”

“And you don’t want any. I don’t blame you.”

“What? Yes I do!” Keith stares wide-eyed at his littermate? “You don’t?”

“How can I?” Shiro retorts, turning on him. “For that matter, how can you?!”

Keith can’t believe he’s hearing this. He’s always assumed his kind, warm-hearted brother wanted that. “Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Keith, you grew up alone! How can you possibly risk leaving your kits to that same fate! How can you invite that kind of suffering on innocent life?”

“I- I would be a good parent. I’d make sure my kits would be provided for. Why should my not having had a family impede me from building one of my own?”

The found siblings gape at one another, disbelief written on both of their faces. It’s never occurred to either of them that they might have different goals in life. They’ve always been of a singular mind. Peace is a good option; the empire is stretched thin and vulnerable; Altean food is fucking nasty.

It never occurred to Keith that Shiro, who has so much to offer and so much natural talent as a mentor and leader, wouldn’t want to pass on his genes, nurture someone that’s his own flesh and blood. It never occurred to Shiro that Keith, damaged, neglected, traded like a commodity, would still want to start a family of his own.

Shiro sighs, runs fingers through the silver hair on top of his head. “You really want kits?”

Keith nods, ears wilted, tail limp. He eyes his littermate carefully, trying to figure out how to appease him. Stupid kit instincts.

“Okay. Hey, it’s okay. We’re okay. I’m sorry.” Shiro rubs the top of Keith’s head. “But if that’s what you really want, I’m not the right person to talk to.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” Keith sighs, turning back to the sparring newcomers. “I’ll talk to my mother. I planned to anyway, since she and I both have that disorder.”

He can feel needles and aches in his bones again, prominent in his shoulders, knees, and hips.

“Good idea.” Shiro smiles. “So, what do you think? They any good?”

“They’re good for soldiers. They’ve got a lot to learn if they want to be Blades.”

“I agree. The potential is there, but the refinement is not. Speaking of which, I know you’ve been trying to keep a low profile because of your age, but you and Lance should come to training tomorrow morning. You say he’s improved, and I want to see that, and I want to see his supposed marksmanship. I also know that you haven’t been challenged in a while, so I want to see how much you’ve regressed.”

“Good idea. I could use a bit of conditioning, and a bit of exercise, to be honest. I’ve been very lazy since coming home.”

“I know. Rumor has it a pair of princes have been lounging about down in a certain village, grossing everyone out with their affections.”

“Oh, fuck off! The sun feels nice, alright?!”

“What about the rain?”

Keith’s ears twitch, betraying his embarrassment. But he smiles. “Yeah. That too.”

“Aw, you lovesick idiot. Go say hi to your mother!” Shiro shoves him away, but it’s more playful than anything else.

Of course, Keith has to push back, so Shiro has to push back, so Keith has to try and tackle him, so-

Lance sighs, glancing at the datapad propped up in the windowsill, setting BleepBloop on his shoulder. While he waits for his father to pick up the call, he looks over a recipe someone handed him while he was folding up the nap blanket. It seems simple enough. Chop up some stuff, throw it in a pot, cook it over a fire. Said pot was already outside, boiling bones to make the broth.

He’s cooked before, actually, making a hobby of it as a way to spend more time with Hunk, Rosetta, and Shay. That said, he’s never done it on his own. Well, he’s seen what a finished stew is supposed to look like, and it’s about time he and Keith stopped freeloading off the neighbors, so… fuck it. He might as well try.

"Here you go." Lance hands BleepBloop a small beanpod, which the primate bites, then throws across the room. "Guess you only eat meat, huh? Wait a tick, and I'll give you some, okay?" The primate chitters, clearly annoyed at his stupidity, but he's easily appeased by a head scratch.

While he waits for his father to bother answering, Lance begins by chopping some meat wrapped in leaves and covered in spices. It’s the same color as bits of meat still stuck to the bones cooking outside. Taking a luxite knife, Lance does as he’s seen the locals do, slicing the meat up along with the leaves right on top of the dining table. Picking off a piece of leaf, he hands a small chunk to BleepBloop, almost certain Keith would kick his ass for feeding it to him.

“Lance.” It’s his father, dressed in pajamas, watching him from the screen of his datapad. It’s later in the quintant back home, already after dark. “How is Daibazaal?”

“Very different, and the people don’t like me much, but I like it here.”

“You’ve been out in the village?”

“Yes. Keith has a den.” Lance scoops up the meat and leaves, dumping them in a stone bowl. He starts on a basket of vegetables and tubers, starting by using a mortar and pestle to mash up some plump, violet fruits with soft insides and a thin skin. “...He has friends here.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad for that. Have you seen the imperial family at all?”

“No, which is probably fortunate, given that Keith and I have been wandering all over the place like a pair of tourists, flaunting that he’s only just now growing up.”

A moment's pause, then, “Lance, what was the one major thing I told you to do?”

“Have sex with Keith?”

“Lance.”

“Stay safe," he grumbles. There’s silence in the wake of their heads butting together. “When did you last hear from Allura?”

“Just a few vargas ago. She informed me that Romelle no longer recognizes her.”

“What are we going to do? Where do we go from here?”

“Nothing. Nowhere.”

Lance’s heart stops. “How can you say that? She- Wasn’t she your friend? Don’t you care about her and Allura?”

“Son, it took me a centaphoeb and a half to piece Romelle’s brain back together. We’re lucky she’s with us at all.” Seeing the look on Lance's face, Alfor remembers he sometimes needs to be more gentle with his bleeding heart of his son.

“There’s nothing more I can do for her, Lance. I’ve tried everything. If something new becomes available, I’ll be more than tempted to arrange treatment myself, but the truth is… It’s cruel to keep forcing Romelle through all these experimental treatments. They can be traumatic and invasive, and half the time, there’s a decline in her condition, and almost never any improvement at all.”

Lance recognizes the truth in his father’s words, but it still hurts. Romelle is one of his few friends. BleepBloop smears a tear over his cheek before it can fall onto the vegetables he’s chopping. “What am I gonna tell Allura?”

“Nothing. You don’t have to tell her anything. I am going to tell her that there’s nothing left to try right now, but that I will be refocusing my efforts to find a new solution.”

“You’re going to lie to her?”

“Your sister deserves that, don’t you think?” Alfor murmurs, watching his son prepare food like a commoner.

“I don’t understand.”

“One day, you’ll have children of your own, and you’ll learn. I know I haven’t exactly been a good father, but I’ve never been indifferent to your pain. Either of you. The kindest thing I can do for Allura is lie.”

Lance nods, staring at the pile of vegetables before him. He can feel the sharp downturn of his mouth. “There’s really nothing I can do?”

“There’s nothing anyone can do.” The king sighs. “It’s a hard lesson for people like us, Lance: Some things are out of our control.”

Chuckling, Lance scoops all the vegetables into the large stone bowl. “Yeah. I think Keith’s catching on.”

“To what, that you’re a control freak?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s known that since the Frost Ball at the very latest.”

Grunting his reluctant agreement, Lance grabs his datapad, sets it outside by the stew pot so he can keep talking to his father while he babysits the stew. BleepBloop steals a lump of meat and runs off with it. Checking the paper recipe, Lance casually dumps all the ingredients in.

“What the quiznak are you doing?”

As per the recipe, Lance pours in a leather satchel full of grain. “Locals got tired of me freeloading, so today I am making stew. I’ve never made it before, so they gave me a recipe. On paper… I’ve never touched paper before.”

“I have, a few times. Pretty neat, right?” Alfor smiles.

“Yeah. It’s like… soft. But also not? Anyway, I told our neighbor when they came by with the ingredients that I’m willing to learn how to do other stuff if they’re willing to teach me. I don’t have anything against labor.”

“Be careful. You are not the people, Lance. You are separate from them.” Easy for his aloof, antisocial father to say.

“I know.” He does know. He also knows that his desperate need for community is in direct opposition with his responsibilities. “Keith has a lot of friends here, or at least friendly neighbors. I think he was kind of adopted by the locals.”

“If the locals are friendly with him, you need to establish yourself as a prominent figure within the community.” There’s a fine line between friendly and friends, and they both know it. Lance knows he’s already been far too friendly with Thace, a man who just handed him his newborn within seconds of meeting. Alfor doesn’t need to know about that.

“You mean be neighborly? I’ll be neighborly, and you learn some less… aggressive vocabulary, okay?” Lance shifts the fire beneath the pot, sliding some of the burning logs into the stone oven on the other side of the oblong fire pit, gradually bringing the stew from a boil to a simmer.

A young adult half-Galra comes up, carrying a stone bowl full of dough. They have brightly colored skin, including a prehensile appendage on top of their head. “Mind if I borrow that extra fire?”

Lance shakes his head. “Go for it. I’ll speak to you later, Father. Please say hello to Dad for me.”

“Of course. Have a good evening, Lance.”

“You too.” Lance lets his father do the hanging up. It’s so weird, having an actual conversation with his father. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it. Or Galra society. “Okay, I gotta ask you a rude question.”

The unfamiliar Galra looks up, somewhat amused. “Go ahead.”

“What pronouns do you use?”

“She/her. Name’s Ezor. Galra gender identity killing you yet?”

“Driving me insane,” Lance admits.

“Just guess, and if it bothers someone, they’ll correct you. It’s how we all get by.” The woman smiles, working the dough in her hands into small balls, wrapping them in leaves, sticking two at a time on the stones by the fire. “Thanks for letting me borrow your fire. I didn’t feel like making one.”

“I’d never made one before. Good to know it’s worth borrowing.”

Lance looks up from stirring the stew. It’s almost dark, there’s a growing chill in the air, and Keith isn’t back yet. He decides not to worry about it, instead assuming he’s with his brother.

Keith’s actually with his mother, having taken plenty of time earlier to horse around with his brother and some of his old friends. The Blade of Marmora, Emperor Zarkon’s private army, has been his family since he came to the mountain. He’d actually wanted to fully join the Blades after his first season, and sometimes he misses the community. They don’t treat him any differently, except to tease him about the ribbon braided into his hair.

It doesn’t bother him, but he does wonder how he might have ended up if he hadn’t been married to Lance.

He also wonders how he might have ended up if he hadn’t finally found his mother, who’s a truly wonderful combination of fierce and gentle. For example, scolding him for lying about and acting a fool instead of keeping himself well-conditioned, then promptly giving him a hug and a hot cup of tea.

“So. I never see you anymore unless you’re having problems.” Krolia sits back in her chair, smirk crossing her face. Keith glares, riling easily at his mother's unfair but completely accurate observation. “Come on, kitten. I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Hating how easily he softens, Keith spills. “I don’t know if I should get pregnant or not.”

Krolia lifts an eyebrow, staring at her young son. “Are you healthy enough?”

" Perfect Health."

"Yes."

“Are you happy with your relationship with Lance? Are you ready to take that next step?”

“Yes.” He’s frustrated with the number of choices that have been taken away from him, but none of that is Lance’s fault. In fact, Lance is going out of his way to give him as many choices as possible.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I… Someone will end up unhappy. If I decide not to, Alfor will be even more annoying and Lance will be sad, even though he’s pretending he won’t care. If I do have a kit, then I’ll be mad at myself."

"Why?"

"Because then I'll have just gone and done what everyone else wanted!"

"And?" Keith balks at his mother's insight. "There's always an 'and', Keith."

And-” Keith gulps. “And then that’s all I’ll be good for.”

“All you’ll be good for?” Krolia frowns. “How in the cosmos did you arrive at that conclusion?”

“That’s all anybody wants from me. To the Empire, I’m a breeder. To the Alteans, I’m a breeder at best, a novelty at worst. I want- I want to be other things, Mom. I know I’m worth more than that.”

“Am I a breeder?” Krolia asks quietly, fixing her son with a hard stare. Keith sinks down in his seat, appropriately abashed. “Is Thace a breeder? We are all what we make ourselves, Keith. You can be a breeder, if that’s what you allow yourself to be. Or you can be a father, a warrior, an explorer, a future king- Whatever you want to be, that is what you make yourself. What do you want to be, Keith?”

“I… I don’t know. I- More. I want to be more.”

“Do you want to be a father? Do you want kits of your own?”

“...Yes. I want that. A lot.”

“If you become a father, sooner or later you will give everyone the satisfaction of seeing you bear Lance's children. It is up to you if that is your only great achievement. If you want to be a father and something 'more', what will you do to make those things happen?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Then that’s where you should start. You have time, kitten. You're young enough yet.”

Krolia stands, rubs her kit behind the ears. He’s so very nearly grown, and she barely got any time with him. Beneath her gaze, a spasm crawls down his legs, up his back, over his shoulders. “Do you have a shot with you, kitten?”

“Yeah. Can I-”

“Come on.” Krolia leads her hurting son over to the bed, helps him into it. Keith curls up, tail curled tight to his body. Giving him the injection into the port on his arm, Krolia climbs up next to him, settles her warmth next to his. “Rest. Then you can go home to Lance.”

Keith whimpers, curling tighter as pain wracks his body. He nods, settling in against his mother. His muscles stay tense, unwilling to make himself more vulnerable in his condition.

“Just rest, kitten. I’ve got you. I’ll keep you safe.” Krolia strokes her baby’s hair, missing all the decaphoebs behind them, all the ones she didn’t have. “Momma’s here.”

Her son is blessed, privileged with medical care that she never had, but Krolia is loath to see her kit in pain. Galra are forever devoted to their own young, even after they grow up. Her love for Keith will remain strong even after instinct has faded. Knowing that he is her only kit, he’s even more precious. Her greatest achievement in life is her son.

“It's late," Keith whispers some time later, gazing at the darkness outside. He looks tired, pain even he can't resist sapping his strength.

"It is. Do you want to stay here, or go home?" Krolia already knows the answer, but it's a small choice she can offer her entangled son.

"I should go. I've been missing Lance since I left. Which is super freaky."

"It'll pass." Krolia watches her son play with the end of his braid. "You really do love him, don't you."

Not a question. A statement. A surrender.

"I do. He's earned it, Mom. We both worked hard to be friends, and now we're working hard for this. But he was the one who reached out first. I was content to hate him forever."

"I'm still content to hate him forever." Krolia sighs. "But I'll tolerate him, since you're so fond."

"Thanks, Momma." Keith kisses his mother's cheek, heads for home. He's got a lot to talk about, and a husband who happens to really enjoy that exact thing.

Lance is lucky he's cute. Or maybe it's Keith that's lucky. Who the fuck even knows at this point?

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

7 notes · View notes

drferox · 8 years ago

Text

20 questions with Dr Ferox #4

It’s that time of the week again where I try to shrink my inbox by answering 20 of your questions all in one go. This seems to be working well, and I must thank everyone who has endeavored to use the search function this week. I’ve tried to tag folks, but if you’ve sent in anonymous questions you’ll have to read through and look to see if you’ve been answered.

A lovely, understanding anonymous said: Have you ever had players in your DnD group not get along? Also, if you ever feel stressed out about the number of asks, don't feel like you have to immediately respond to us. It's a blog, we get it. Nobody is waiting on a time-sensitive diagnosis from a blog (or at least they fuckin shouldn't be), and we can wait. Prioritize yourself, we're a bunch of randos asking about dog food on the Internet.

Well, nobody should be waiting for a time sensitive diagnosis from any vet blog any more. I’d hoped I’d been clear enough by now why it’s not appropriate to ask specific veterinary advice from myself, or any other vetblrs on here.

But yes, I have had players in my D&D groups not get along, but I had enough players to keep them separate most of the time. Dungeons & Dragon is supposed to be fun, it’s a game, so it’s meant to be fun. Aside from other skills you learn playing roleplaying games, managing a group of people is definitely one you pick up. Humans are human, we don’t all get along all of the time.

@kabjl asked: Would it be theoretically possible to have a viable hybrid offspring of a house cat and a wild large cat like a lion or tiger?

Unlikely. House cats belong to the Felinae subfamily and lions and tigers belong to the Pantherinae subfamily. While Pantherinae species can hybridize (eg tiger and lion) and Felinae species can hybridize (eg domestic cat with anything), the offspring are usually infertile. I don’t think it’s possible for a Felinae X Pantherinae hybrid to be viable.

@a-floral-ghost asked: What's your favorite animal name you've come across? Mine is a cat named Chuck

Hmm, that’s a interesting question. There are no many pets and names to try to remember. I must profess a fondness for Pat the Cat.

@curiouspinecones said: What is the best and worst pet name you've come across? I work in a pathology lab within a vet practice and I quite like when patients have really human names (Dave the cat is always a good one). The worst has to a Labrador called "Daddy", that is totally not okay...

Again, an interesting question. There are lots of names that are unoriginal and boring, but it’s the straight up racist names that I don’t like.

Anonymous asked: Hi! I read somewhere on tumblr that because of the cat's particular tastebuds, they can't taste sweet things. If that's true, does that also mean they can't smell sweet things, since taste and smell go hand-in-hand? Question tax: Came for the dog breed facts, stayed for the vet stories and knowledge.

Well, none of us actually smell sweet. You can smell things you associate with sweet foods by learning, but you’re not smelling ‘sweet’ as such.

Another Anonymous said: Have you ever met a hamster? I know we're not allowed to have them in Australia, but I'm curious about whether you've been exposed to one during the process of learning vet medicine. I know I feel odd about never having seen a hamster in real life, since it's such a common pet elsewhere...

I’ve never seen a hamster in the flesh. They’re not legal in Australia, neither are gerbils of chinchillas. I have seen one on an animal handling video though.

@fox-noodle said: I forgot the question tax, my apologies! My rat Apollo is almost 2 1/2 and recently went to the vet for what I thought were tumours, but are actually testicles. They only started showing a few months ago, I've now separated him and he has two male buddies now. Is this common in rats? I've only ever heard of something similar (cryptochoridism) in dogs, could that be what he has? Question tax- came for the interesting euthanasia posts (its helped me a lot), stayed for the interesting vet stories

Can’t say I have. That’s a very long delay for that rat to develop testes, and I’d have to wonder if it’s intersex in some way.

Dogs with cryptochidism have testes, they just haven’t descended into the scrotum. They never descend into the scrotum, sometimes they’re stuck in the abdomen and sometimes they’re in the groin, so I don’t think it’s the same process at work. Sorry I can’t be more help.

@rebanndon said: I've read in an article or two, that for active dog breeds like border collies leaving them entire until 18 months of age is a way to reduce the risk of cruciate ligament tears because the bone is able to fill out? There's little/no proof behind the claim reproductive hormomes are linked to aiding ligament growth. So, in your experience do you see more cruciate cases in active desexed dogs or active entire dogs? Or simply no link at all and desexing should just be done at 6 months regardless?

I’ve written a fairy in-depth article on age of desexing here.

There propably is a benefit in delaying desexing for larger breeds overall, but for most small breeds 6 months still seems about right.

Anonymous said: Isnt't it bad to declaw a cat? Since they are digitigrade doesn't removing the claws hurt their bone structure?

... Yes. That wasn’t up for debate. I’ve discussed this here.

Unobservant Anonymous said: Do you have any advice for a cat with a herniated spinal disk? QoL is still good, he's a happy boy who sometimes has trouble lifting up his back legs and needs stairs up couches and to litterbox. Eats, drinks, purrs and seeks attenion like a champ but sometimes when he grooms himself that it looks like he's got a pinched nerve and has discomfort / spasms reaching for his back feet. Vet has been seen, on cosequin every other dayvand daily gentle stretches. Anything else I can do?

Hey, so, from a legal and ethical perspective I can’t give you specific veterinary advice about a cat that is not one of my direct patients. It’s dangerous and unethical to do so. But go talk to your vet, Cosequin is a joint supplement, not pain relief, there are at least three different medications you could consider.

Anonymous said: Oh my god, you're allergic to bunnies? I want to be a vet too, and so am I XD glad to see I'm not the only one lmao

Yup, allergic to rabbits, rye grass, and dogs (sort of). And nuts, which makes the mixed boxes of chocolates gifted to the clinic very interesting.

Anonymous asked: Working as a veterinarian, do you ever get the urge to adopt the pets in the shelter?

Not from shelters, I just don’t go near them any more. Stray kittens in the vet clinic though are another matter...

Anonymous said: About the uncomfortable animals thing- I was referring to where you said primates are in the uncanny valley

Lots of vets have certain animals, or breeds of animals, that they just don’t want to deal with. For me, primates make me uncomfortable. Not because they’re creepy, but because they’re clever and I can’t reliably know how clever they are, and whether what we’re doing with them is ethical.

I also don’t intend to go treat horses every again, and I know lots of vets that are averse to large animal practice or outright phobic of birds.

Yet Another Anonymous said: Hey! I'm wondering if you get much experience with our Aussie staghounds (enough to write a breed evaluation on them)? Or if not, maybe just a bit about the general hunting-type Australian dogs? (staghounds, bull arabs, and the many many similar mixes). Question tax: came because I'd always wanted to be a vet and I LOVE anatomy, stayed for the awesome info and even more wonderful stories.

I haven’t seen any staghounds down here, but I’m pretty South and suburban now, not really a much of a hunting culture around here. You can find the Bull arab post here, but are welcome to use the search function for any other breeds of interest.

@orgasmicplushtoy asked: Can you do a write up on small munsterlanders? If not that's okay.

I actually had to look up the three Munsterlander dogs I’ve seen, because I didn’t know ‘large’ and ‘small’ munsterlanders were totally different breeds.

Turns out all three I’ve seen are large ones, over 30kg each. Short version: They all got cancer.

Anonymous asked: Do you see any Greater Swiss Mountain Dogs at your practice? For some reason we see a lot at our clinic and though some of them are fine- they have earned the moniker "Sketchy Swiss." As in: I have to muzzle a 6 month old Swiss puppy because it barks, growls, and lunges at me while I try to TPR. Several of the ones we see have been diagnosed with Wobbler syndrome and various other orthopedic issues. Just curious if you've had similar experiences. Thanks- love your posts!

Sorry, no. They’re quite big and not popular here, I don’t think I’ve ever come across them. Large breeds in general are less common.

Anonymous said: I don't suppose you've done any evaluations on working cocker spaniels/sprocker/Russian spaniels?

Nope, not yet. There’s 30 waiting in the queue for me to get to them. I have said before though that I’m not answering breed posts that asked for more than one breed in the same post. It just gets too long, confusing and messy if I do. Besides, it’s rather cheeky to ask for more than one in one question, isn’t it?

Another Anonymous said: If you enjoy a little wildlife voyeurism, there are about a half dozen bird cams linked on Cornell's "All About Birds" webpage, and the owls have owlets. There's not really a question here. You have a stressful job, and I thought you might enjoy wasting some time watching the bird feeder or trying to see the baby owls under mum's fluffy owl butt.

Thanks for the thought, I’m sure some followers will find it useful. Personally I try to relax without animal things. I find it helpful to seek out activities that engage different parts of my brain compared to what work does.

@slowdown-its-a-science said: Please give us lots of updates on Trash Bag

I’m sure I will.

@herebelife said: Ps did you read the article about the bilby triplets? Bilby triplets!

I hadn’t, but I have now and will share them with you.

#drferox #long post #questions #blog housekeeping #I've tried to tag #but if you asked on anonymous you'll have to look yourself

35 notes · View notes