#digestive system similar

[birdricks]

doing my anatomy study is fucking torturous bc every time i read some shit like “birds dont have a diaphragm” my brains like “hmmmm…… birdperson…..” and then i end up thinking abt him instead of studying

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

why must tummy hurt :(

[cathymee]

one thing about us is. #colonialism

[howdoesone]

How does one differentiate between the small intestine and the large intestine?

The digestive system is a complex network of organs responsible for breaking down food into smaller molecules that the body can absorb and use for energy. The small intestine and the large intestine are two essential components of the digestive system, but they differ in their size, structure, and function. Understanding these differences is essential for diagnosing and treating various digestive…

[mournthebird]

Gentle Hand.

summary: Soldat has a panic attack.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Panic attacks | Brief medical treatments | Flashbacks of HTP | Past dehumanization | Brief mention of SA

a/n: This was supposed to be posted before the other one I just posted, but I got impatient lol. So it might sound a little out of order, once I have all these parts out I'll put them in order. He's getting through it, you're being patient. Unedited. ;; wc: 3.4k

There were a lot of complicated things with Soldat.

Significant complications with his health, for starters, which caught you off guard given his status as a super soldier. You had initially assumed that his enhanced physiology would grant him a far greater resilience compared to an ordinary human, as had been proven with the likes of Steve Rogers. However, the treatment from HYDRA had somehow managed to infiltrate his system so profoundly and extensively that it had wreaked havoc on his entire physiological makeup, leaving him in a severely compromised state.

The issue of malnourishment was addressed through a carefully planned regimen of intravenous treatments, much to Soldat’s dislike. This approach was complemented by a gradual reintroduction to solid foods, a process that required meticulous attention and patience. The goal was to slowly accustom his system to regular nutrient intake without overwhelming his weakened digestive tract. Not to mention the fact that Soldat often refused food or that his body simply could not handle it, even in small amounts.

Honestly, re-feeding him was a whole other problem you had to tackle.

A similar strategy was employed to combat his severe dehydration and restore proper fluid balance. You also noticed that he experienced significant difficulty in swallowing, a symptom that hinted at potential damage to his esophageal tract or neurological complications affecting his ability to consume liquids normally.

Then, there were the myriad of wounds that covered his body. Stubborn injuries that had been persisting for a duration that far exceeded your initial expectations and caused you considerable worry. You found a small measure of solace in the fact that the majority of these injuries, while numerous, consisted primarily of superficial cuts and bruising.

Treating these wounds was far from easy. His behavior during treatment sessions mirrored a cornered wild animal, skittish and unpredictable, making each attempt at care a delicate and often extremely stressful. You didn’t want to stress him any further than he probably was in a stranger’s home, with a stranger, but you needed to at the very least keep the wounds from bleeding everywhere.

He lashed out at you with his metal arm, swinging wildly without any real force behind it. You could instantly discern that his actions were driven by sheer terror rather than malice. His eyes were wide with panic, darting frantically around the room, and it was evident that he wasn't actively trying to cause you harm. As you approached with the antiseptic and gauze, he bared his teeth in a defensive snarl and let out a feral hiss, his metal arm swinging once more in a desperate attempt to keep you at bay.

He had backed himself into the corner of your bathroom, the face he couldn’t go anywhere was frightening him just as much as you were. "Easy there, Soldat," you murmured, your voice steady and reassuring. "You're not scaring me. These wounds need to be cleaned and treated." Your words were calm and gentle, but they seemed to do little to soothe his frayed nerves.

In another display of agitation, he swung his arm downward, connecting with your tile floor. The impact was forceful enough to shatter the tiles into several jagged pieces, the sound of breaking ceramic echoing through the room. He fixed you with a glare that was clearly meant to be intimidating, but you could see right through it. His expression was a forced mask of hatred, a poor attempt at appearing dangerous. He was trying so hard to maintain this façade of aggression, but his fear was as obviously visible beneath the surface.

"Listen, Soldat," you said, your voice taking on a firmer yet still compassionate tone. "If you really wanted to harm me, we both know you would have done so by now. Your behavior isn't fooling either of us." You gestured to his injuries, your expression softening. "Now, please, let me tend to these wounds. If we don't bandage them soon, you're going to end up bleeding all over the place. That can't be comfortable for you. And I would really appreciate it if you didn't stain my carpet..."

His face held a stubborn, forced scowl, but also an undeniable air of resignation. He relaxed at your approach, albeit marginally, allowing you to come closer. Sharp, audible breaths exited his nostrils in rapid succession, betraying his lingering apprehension. You knew he was tense so you offered reassurance, "You're alright, I promise this won't hurt. We just need to take care of these."

Your words seemed to have enough of a calming effect as you carefully began tending to him, finally able to assess and treat his injuries. As the moments passed and he realized your true intentions were solely to help, not harm, his demeanor shifted. He became increasingly receptive to your ministrations as each cleaning session came, and he allowed you to clean his wounds and change his gauze without resistance.

But there was one thing you couldn't help but notice, and it was perhaps the biggest hurdle of them all. An almost violent aversion to certain actions and decisions.

To the outside eye, they appeared completely random, and they did to you too. At first.

Soldat refrained from doing anything, no matter how mundane, without first seeking your explicit permission. Something as simple as taking a seat or reaching for a glass of water seemed to require your approval.

At first this behavior confused you, but as you observed him more closely, you started to understand a little but more. HYDRA, while you knew very little of his experiences, did a number on his psyche. He was grappling with intense internal struggles, and in an attempt to cope with his sudden freedom, he was projecting his deep-seated need for structure and guidance onto you. By relinquishing control over even the most basic decisions, he seemed to find a semblance of comfort and stability.

This realization left you with mixed emotions.

On one hand, you felt a twinge of discomfort at being thrust into this unexpected role of authority. The weight of his dependence on your decisions was not something you had anticipated or necessarily desired.

Yet, on the other hand, you couldn't deny the visible relief and calm that washed over him when operating within these self-imposed boundaries. Witnessing how this dynamic seemed to provide him with a sense of security and ease, you found yourself reluctantly gave into.

Despite your internal reservations, you knew that this arrangement was serving as a crucial coping mechanism for him during what was clearly a difficult time, even if it had begun from something awful. So, setting aside your own discomfort, you made the conscious decision to lean into this role, at least for now.

Your primary concern was his well-being, and if this is what he needed to feel safe and begin healing, then you were willing to adapt and provide that structure for him.

His comfort level around you was noticeably increasing with each passing day. Gradually, he began to emerge from the bedroom where he had initially isolated himself, seeking out your company in subtle ways.

Your presence seemed to have a calming effect on him, acting as a source of reassurance in his new environment. He made a conscious effort to be in the same room as you, his actions betraying a growing desire for proximity.

He maintained a considerable distance for a while, positioning himself at the far end of whatever space you occupied. He often watched you, or sometimes he’d allow himself to nap, he never spoke. You chose to ignore him most of the time, not wanting to give him too much attention and spook him away.

Time progressed and you noticed a slow but steady shift in his behavior. Like a cautious animal gradually acclimating to a new habitat, he inched closer to you day by day. He continued his gradual migration until he finally felt secure enough to position himself right beside you.

One particularly lazy afternoon, he slowly made his way towards you, his steps heavy with hesitation. Upon reaching the living area, he carefully lowered himself onto the floor adjacent to the couch, his eyes fixed downward on the carpet. Eventually, his gaze lifted, settling on the television screen. He watched the program you had selected, you couldn't help but notice a glimmer of curiosity dancing behind his eyes, his engagement slowly growing with his surroundings.

You had tried many different offers and encouragement, but he refused to make use of any furniture in the house. The comfortable couch remained untouched by him, and the inviting bed you prepared for him went unused night after night. He had ripped the blankets off and curled up on the floor instead.

His reluctance to using the couch and the bed made you start to think. Had he been conditioned to believe that he wasn't allowed to use something as basic as furniture?

You remained silent, not uttering a single word as you observed him sitting there, seemingly without any discomfort. After a moment of hesitation, you decided to break the silence. "You know, you're more than welcome to sit up here with me," you suggested, your voice soft and kind. His head lifted ever so slightly in response to your words, his eyes glancing at you from under the bits of hair that fell over his face.

The soldier's gaze met yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of doubt and confusion. His frown deepened, etching lines across his forehead as if your words were spoken in a foreign tongue he couldn't quite decipher. You gently patted the empty cushion to your left, emphasizing your point. "Really, you can sit up here if you'd like," you reiterated, your tone warm and encouraging, hoping to dispel any lingering uncertainty he might have.

Several minutes pass and he doesn't budge.

You decide to just let him sit there if he wants to, observing his actions without comment. You didn't want to make him do something he didn't want to do anyway. So you turned your attention back to the show playing on the screen, watching she shitty adult cartoon full of jokes and clichés. But you had to admit, it was pretty funny. You felt something beside you, the subtle shift in the couch's cushions as his silver prosthetic makes contact. The furniture dips ever so slightly as the soldier cautiously lowers himself onto it.

His movements are painfully slow and deliberate, as if he's treading on eggshells, anticipating that you might suddenly change your mind or lash out at him at any moment. When he finally settles, his posture is noticeably stiff and unnatural, not to mention his obvious aversion to sitting flat on his ass like a normal person. His wounds and injuries were brutal, and you knew he didn't like to sit often. But right now it seemed like he was forcing himself to do so.

The discomfort radiates from him, filling the air with tension. He sits ramrod straight, muscles visibly taut beneath his clothing, and his eyes are wider than you've ever seen them, pupils dilated and darting around the room. It's as if he's desperately searching for potential threats or escape routes, his entire being on high alert. The sight reminds you of a cornered animal, teetering on the edge of fight-or-flight, barely containing the urge to bolt from the room at the slightest provocation.

"Soldat, it's alright. You're safe here. You can sit here, I said you could," you said in a gentle, reassuring tone, attempting to alleviate his visible anxiety. Your voice was recited soft and steady, hoping to create a calming atmosphere. Soldat still tensed up as you adjusted your position. His reaction was immediate and he recoiled as though anticipating a blow, his body language screaming of deep-seated fear.

His breathing became erratic, each inhale and exhale a struggle. His hands trembled and gripped the cushion with such force that the knuckles on his flesh hand turned white. It was clear he was desperately trying to maintain his composure in what he perceived as a threatening situation. The sight of his internal struggle tugged at your heart, you couldn’t believe something as simple as sitting on the couch could cause him to be this distressed.

‘Assets sit on the floor!’ A heavily armored combat boot collided with its nose, it heard a crack, felt the warmth of thick red ooze running down its face and throat, tasting the metallic flavored substance. The rusty tar. ‘Try to get up here again, and I will chain you up to that fucking stump outside. See if you can withstand below zero all night.’

Its handler really hated when it sat on the furniture. Used a bed. Used a chair. Its handler liked to threaten and hurt it.

He liked it to sit at his feet, like a good asset should. Be silent, be obedient, be subservient and pleasing for handler. Make sure he is satisfied and serviced well. Maybe then it will get to sleep? Maybe it would get a blanket tonight. Maybe it wouldn’t have to serve the team tonight.

Or not.

Concern etched across your features as you observed his distress. "I promise you, everything is okay," you reiterated, your voice laced with sincerity and compassion. However, as you shifted slightly to face him better, it became apparent that this small movement was what he had been unconsciously anticipating. The second you made that tiny little shift in the cushion, he leapt to his feet, his sudden movement causing him to stumble. His knee collided painfully with the coffee table, but he seemed oblivious to the impact.

Backing away from you, his eyes darted wildly around your apartment, resembling those of a cornered animal searching desperately for an escape route. There was panic in his gaze, his chest heaving with each rapid, shallow breath.

Unable to maintain his stance, he sank to his knees, his legs unable to support him any longer. His hands flew to his head, fingers entangling themselves in his long hair, gripping tightly as though trying to anchor himself to reality. His breathing had become so labored and quick that it appeared he was on the verge of hyperventilation, fighting for each breath as though he were drowning on dry land.

He cowered away from you as you approached him with worry, his body surrendering to you.

'Stupid fucking asset! Did they fry out all of your common sense, huh? I said NO sitting on the furniture!' Handler's voice thundered through the room, each word laced with venom and contempt. Its wet nose collided violently with his boot for the second time, the impact reverberating through its skull. A sharp, searing pain pushed into its face, and it wondered if a fragment of its broken nose had been forced inward.

Its handler seized a fistful of the asset's hair in a vicious grip and yanking, forcefully dragging it across the floor. The wooden planks, rough and splintered, scraped against its skin as it was hauled towards the dilapidated door of the safehouse. This ramshackle structure was their temporary refuge for the night, a necessary evil in the unforgiving Siberian wilderness. The biting cold of the subzero temperatures was a constant source of irritation for the American team, who were ill-equipped to handle such extreme conditions.

As its handler stepped outside, the asset felt the icy bite of a frozen chain wrapping around its neck. The metal was chilled to an impossible degree and seared its skin on contact. The unexpected pain elicited a cry of surprise and agony from the asset but it was cut short as the chain constricted, squeezing tightly and cutting off its air supply.

Panic set in as it gasped and clawed desperately at the unyielding metal, its lungs burning for oxygen. Just when unconsciousness threatened to overtake it, the pressure relented, allowing it to gulp in precious air once more. The asset's mind raced, recognizing the depth of its handler's fury in this brutal display.

Its handler secured the other end of the chain to an old tree stump barely visible through the snowbank. The makeshift anchor stood amidst piles of chopped wood, all buried under a thick blanket of freshly fallen snow. The wind howled mercilessly, its icy fingers clawing at both the asset and its handler. 'I'll come back in the morning,' he spat, the words barely audible over the roaring gale.

As its handler retreated indoors, the asset felt the blood on its face begin to crystallize, the crimson stream halting its flow as the subzero temperatures took hold. The relentless wind continued its assault, driving icy particles into every exposed inch of skin. With no other option available, the asset curled into itself, seeking what little warmth it could generate as it resigned itself to enduring the long, brutal hours of frozen misery until dawn.

At least it didn't have to service anyone tonight.

He remained motionless, neither pleading nor protesting.

Its handler hated when it begged most of the time. Sometimes he did like it, but it didn’t want to risk angering you by opening its mouth. No. It should only do that when its handler commands it. Otherwise, it was a whore.

In his mind, he braced for the inevitable feeling of your hand roughly grasping his hair, forcefully dragging him away to face some cruel punishment. How could he have the audacity? Sitting beside you on the couch, as if he dared to consider himself your equal.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly. After several long, dreary seconds that felt like an eternity, he summoned the courage to steal a glance at you. His eyes were partially obscured by strands of unkempt hair, peered out cautiously. His breathing remained ragged and uneven, though he made a conscious effort to quiet it.

Its handler preferred silence, after all.

This thought, ingrained deeply within him, only served to heighten his anxiety.

"Soldat, breathe... it's okay, you're safe here." Your voice broke through the silence, gentle and reassuring, though tinged with a noticeable tremor as you witnessed his breakdown. "It's okay. I'm here. No one else but me. You are safe." You repeated these words, emphasizing them as you carefully lowered yourself to the ground beside him.

The soldier’s hyperventilation persisted despite your gentle efforts to speak to him. You remained undeterred and continued to speak, hoping that somehow your words would penetrate the fog of fear surrounding him.

Or the thick snowbank slowly freezing its skin.

"Whatever you're seeing right now isn't real, it's in the past," you explained, your voice soft but steady. "You're here, in my apartment. It's just us. No one is going to hurt you." You inched closer, gradually closing the distance between you and his huddled, trembling form on the carpet. Your movements were slow as you consciously made the effort to be careful and not to startle him further.

He heard you, the absence of pain confused him, but it also provided some soothing to his pure panic. You were telling the truth.

You weren't going to hurt him.

Soldat's gaze met yours once more, his eyes filled with a profound sadness as he gradually descended from the heights of his attack. His breathing, still irregular and labored, came in erratic bursts, each sudden intake of air punctuated by a noticeable hitch. To your shock, he began to inch towards you, his movements hesitant yet deliberate.

Under his breath, he emitted soft whimpers, struggling valiantly to maintain his silence as he had been engrained to do. His entire form quivered violently, reminiscent of someone caught in the grip of an intense chill, and without warning, he allowed his weight to collapse against you, seeking solace in your presence.

A muffled sound escaped him, barely audible as it was absorbed by the fabric of your shirt. Your arms encircled his trembling frame, careful in case he didn’t want you to do so, but you felt no resistance. As he muffled, your ears pricked and you carefully leaned your head down a bit. Your cheek gently brushed his forehead, your mouth close to his ear. "What is it...you can tell me." You whispered, waiting for him to speak again.

Given the other times he had spoken, you braced yourself for Russian, but those concerns dissipated like morning mist when he finally found his voice and spoke. His words were simple, he murmured out again, the admission barely above a whisper and surprised you when they hit your ears.

"I'm cold."

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

Taglist: @millercontracting | @teafangirl | @questionableratatouille00 | @buckybarneswife125 | @hazydespair | @leighta | @knoxic | @ghostlyfleur | @beckies000 | @seventeen-x | @freyjhasdesiredreality | @curlycow01

Let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded anytime.

[seat-safety-switch]

"Uber Eats customer service," beeps the Uber Eats customer service person.

"A bobcat just killed and ate the delivery dude," I express sorrowfully into the receiver. "I'm gonna need a refund."

You might criticize me for being cold to my fellow worker. This is fair, but I am also conditioned by a lifetime of marinating in capitalist ideology to extract maximum value from the $50 gift card I just found in the parking lot. And the Arby's dinner I bought with it is currently residing inside the stomach of Lynx rufus, or maybe just a really big stray tabby.

Either way, there is nothing that I can do for the former person that my phone tells me was named Emil. Even if I were to kill and eat the aggressive bobcat myself in a misguided attempt to avenge him, it would merely serve as a sort of tragedy turducken, and possibly even be illegal. While ruminating on just how long I have to wait for the bobcat to digest Emil's remains before it's no longer cannibalism-via-proxy, I notice that the line has been silent for quite awhile. As I have been trained by many similar systems, I immediately yell a compound profanity, triggering an elevation to the next level of call centre operator. No doubt the recording of this call is already in their private collection of "all-time bests," right next to the tape of the Uber guy who's afraid of clowns valiantly trying to deliver to a circus.

After a few seconds, a new operator switches onto the line. "Sir, we're going to refund your entire order, and rate Emil five-stars. His family will receive the customary Uber Eats death benefits, and he will be buried in our veteran's cemetery with full corporate honours. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

"Yeah," I drawl, already becoming tired of asserting my rights as a consumer. "Do you know if Arby's still makes those deli sandwiches?"

[rebeccathenaturalist]

If you're a bison, an elk, or a bighorn sheep, you can't just walk into any grocery store and take home bags of food to stash away in a pantry. While some wild animals do cache surpluses of food, feast-or-famine patterns are quite common even in areas of great biodiversity and food availability, particularly as seasonal foods may wax or wane. And if there are other species that eat similar foods to what you prefer, there will be competition.

Or will there? Yellowstone National Park is full of herbivores chowing down on the abundant plant life there. But they aren't all going after the exact same plants all at the same time. This study demonstrates that each species inhabits a unique food-related niche, and the parameters of that niche may shift as the seasons change.

Summer, for example, sees a lot more crossover in terms of what the large herbivorous ungulates eat, simply because there's plenty to go around. But in winter, when food is more scarce, each species becomes more of a specialist. Deer tend to eat more woody vegetation (in fact, their digestive systems adjust seasonally), and mostly stick to one area. Bison, which are larger and more powerful, can forge paths through the deep snow to find dried plants other animals can't access.

It makes sense that wildlife would exploit food sources differently according to species and season, but it's neat to see a study giving a more quantitative look at that behavior. Not everything in nature is about competition; sometimes it's about carving out one's own specialized niche that, incidentally, leaves enough room for others to do the same, and then coexisting together even through the hard times. We could learn a lot from our wild neighbors.

[reasonsforhope]

"Thanks to a new discovery by researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, painful injections and intravenous drugs could potentially be a thing of the past.

Inspired by the way squids (yes, squids!) use jets to propel themselves through the ocean, shooting ink clouds, researchers took this biological process to the lab.

The result is an ingestible capsule that “releases a burst of drugs directly into the wall of the stomach or other organs in the digestive tract,” developed by researchers from MIT and Novo Nordisk...

Traverso was the senior author of the study, which concludes that the capsule could offer an alternative to delivering drugs that normally have to be injected, like insulin, antibodies, and even mRNA.

The reason these drugs cannot be taken orally is because they consist of large proteins that are easily broken down in the digestive tract, rendering them ineffective. 

For years, Traverso’s lab has been working on a solution, encapsulating these drugs in small devices that protect them through their journey in the body until they reach the lining of the digestive tract, where they can be injected directly into the system.

In previous iterations, he and his colleagues devised capsules that use microneedles to deliver the drugs once they enter the digestive system.

But in this new study (recently published in Nature), the researchers went completely needle-free.

Taking inspiration from cephalopods — or squids and octopuses — the researchers came up with two ways to mimic their siphon organ, which allows these animals to shoot jets of ink to distract predators...

And don’t fret — once the drugs are administered, the capsules (which are made of metal and plastic) simply pass through the digestive tract naturally.

Although researchers have only tested the device on animals so far, the trails have shown resounding success. In these tests, the capsule successfully delivered insulin, a drug similar to Ozempic, and a type of RNA that can be used in treating genetic disorders.

In this research, success was calculated by measuring the concentration of drugs in the animals’ bloodstream, which reached the same levels as drugs administered by injections. Plus, there was no tissue damage after the fact...

According to MIT, the researchers will now work to further develop the capsules, in hopes of testing them in humans.

Their ultimate vision is that the capsules could be used at home by patients who need to take insulin or other injected drugs frequently. The approach also eliminates the need to dispose of sharp needles, creating a safer — and more comfortable — experience for patients and providers alike."

-via GoodGoodGood, November 25, 2024

[makairodonx]

Coming right around the Chinese New Year, top to bottom, are two highly scientifically-important dinosaurs hailing from the Aptian-aged (125-118 mya) Jiufotang Formation of China’s Liaoning Province:

Microraptor zhaoianus ranks alongside the late Jurassic Archaeopteryx and the closely-related Sinornithosaurus as one of the first theropod dinosaurs ever to have discovered with full feather and wing impressions. It measured about 80 cm (2.6ft) in length, had a wingspan of 99 cm (3.25 ft) and weighed about 1.25-1.88 kg, sported a uniquely black but iridescent plumage, and is the namesake of the Microraptoridae, a family of raven-sized dromaeosaurs that dominated the Jehol Biota of the Jiufotang and Yixian Formations and are particularly famous for sporting long flight feathers on both their legs and limbs. This “four-winged” configuration, which surprisingly resembles the hypothetical “Tetrapteryx” stage of bird evolution proposed by naturalist William Beebe in 1915, enabled Microraptor and its kin to glide from tree to tree in pursuit of small birds, lizards and mammals as well as achieving some sort of powered flight over short distances.

Psittacosaurus is a basal ceratopsian that is closer in phylogeny to creatures like Styracosaurus and Triceratops than to the more primitive Yinlong from the late Jurassic, and is one of the most well-preserved and best-studied genera of all non-avian dinosaurs. It reached the size of a pig or a retriever dog and lived throughout much of continental Eastern Asia 125-105 million years ago, and is known for having the most species described of any non-avian dinosaur, with 12 different species ranging from as far north as Siberia to as far south as Thailand. Two of these species were both found in the Jiufotang Formation - P.melieyingensis and P.mongoliensis, the type species which measured up to 2 meters (6.2 ft) long and weighed about 80 kg (44 lb). Psittacosaurus had highly-developed senses of smell and vision, a pair of protruding jugal (cheek) bones that were possibly used for display, and was active for short periods at day or night. Psittacosaurus also possessed self-sharpening teeth that were used for cropping and slicing tough plants, and unlike future ceratopsians, it lacked teeth for chewing and grinding food and thus used gastroliths (which would have been stored in a gizzard similar to those of modern birds) to wear down the leaves and bark that it ate as it passed through the digestive system. Psittacosaurus is also unique among ceratopsians for having a large, well-proportioned brain. This indicates that the dinosaur was capable of doing a wide range of complex social behaviors such as bird-like sleeping, nest-building and parental care. This is perhaps true with possible instances of overburdened Psittacosaurus parents brining in a nanny or another guardian to take care of large nests of more than a dozen hatchlings, as evidenced of fossils of adolescent females preserved with several hatchlings together. The Psittacosaurus of the Jiufotang Formation shared their temperate forest habitat with the basal ankylosaur Chuanqilong, several genera and species of paravians and pterosaurs, a large titanosaur, and the 10-meter-long Yutyrannus relative Sinotyrannus, and Psittacosaur hatchlings and occasionally adults were also preyed upon by the large, badger-like mammal Repenomamus. One fossil Psittacosaurus specimen that is on display at a German museum (SMF R 4970) preserves the scales, colors and integument that the living animal would have had, and they indicate that the particular Psittacosaurus had a counter-shaded reddish brown and beige pattern that was blurrier and less-defined compared to the striking orange-and-white colors of Sinosauropteryx (which was suited for a lifestyle of foraging in open areas) and was therefore useful for camouflaging the Psittacosaurus in the woods. The specimen also possessed a strange crest of yellow, keratinized, bristle-like structures protruding from the base of its tail that were quite similar to the thin, filamentous structures found on the heterodontosaurid Tianyulong, which also possibly indicates that feather-like structures or proto-feathers may have appeared early in the evolutionary history of the dinosaurs and were soon lost in the evolution of some dinosaur groups or retained in some form in the evolution of others.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Bolinus brandaris [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

and by public demand, part. 2

summary: Reid loves the gift you just gave him and the whole team can notice.

"Everyone ready to go back?" Gideon asked, taking a quick look at the jet to make sure all of you were there. You had an extortion case quite far from home, Miami to be exact, and you had a long flight back to Quantico, so the last thing he wanted was to forget someone.

Miami was a beautiful place that you would have liked to visit in other circumstances, that had nothing to do with crimes at all, since you had always felt a certain weakness for the warm climate, the sticky breeze, and the sound of the waves that were on the beach.

You had only had the chance to go to a mall to buy a new outfit, because yours had been completely ruined, while Morgan took advantage of the wait to buy an ice cream popsicle. It hadn't been a dream ride, but it was something at least.

“I feel like I could sleep for 90 hours straight,” you sighed, closing your eyes and falling into Spencer's side as usual. You two were the youngest, he was younger than you of course, so it was easier to connect with him than the other members of the team. You seemed to have similar interests and he was strangely comfortable with you.

“You would actually need to wake up periodically to expel fluids or you would risk bursting your bladder or even your bowels, because even though your digestive system shuts down when you sleep it only does so for a certain number of hours. Maybe you could sleep for 14 or 17 hours, which is what a baby sleeps, but 90 seems excessive to me even if you do not consume drinks or food before doing so”

"It's an expression, Reid" you laughed, but without the intention of making him feel bad for having answered you that way. Sometimes it was necessary to explain to him that you weren't being serious, as obvious as this seemed.

"You can sleep through the whole trip" he argued and although you still had your eyes closed you assumed that he had shrugged "I'll wake you up if you start snoring"

"I don't snore!" you defended yourself, playfully smacking him on the arm and hearing him laugh. Somehow watching him led you to remember a chain of events ending in the package you had carefully stowed in your bag and you almost jumped out of your seat the next second: "Wait, I just remembered something" you reported and went to the baggage area to rummage through your suitcase, taking just a few minutes to be back in your seat “I bought you this”

"Me?" he asked in disbelief. The others were on their own business enough to notice your conversation, making the moment a bit more private.

“I looked at it and just thought of you. Although I don't know if you're going to like it” you said shyly, handing him something wrapped in a paper bag with a store sticker on it. You had found the gift when you went shopping for your clean outfit and a part of you had been anxious all day to be able to give it to him to watch his reaction.

Reid looked at it curiously and handled it carefully, as if he were afraid it would fall apart in his fingers, until he managed to open it and took a piece of cloth from it.

"A scarf?"

“I saw you in one the other day and I thought you might like them. You know, you always wear your vests under your coats and your ties and you're always overdressed, but in a cute way” you laughed, while you pointed your hands at your body pretending to touch the pieces of his outfit "But it's okay if you don't want to wear it"

"No! I mean yes. I want to use it” he reassured you. Spencer held it out to look at it more carefully: it was purple, a stripe in the middle of patterned colored rhombuses intertwined with some embroidery of branches with leaves in black. "Did you know that the color purple is related to royalty because of how difficult it was to obtain the pigment before the Christian era? It is obvious that artificial dyes didn’t exist at that time, so everything they dyed the fabrics with had to be obtained from nature and that particular tone was quite difficult to obtain because it came from Bolinus brandaris, an extremely rare species of sea snail. To obtain 1 gram of this substance it is necessary to have 10,000 snails. And that gram was barely enough to dye a small piece. Its value and the difficulty in mass-producing it is due to the fact that the substance obtained had to be left to dry in the sun for a very precise time to be used later. Half a kilo of wool dyed in that color cost what would now be equivalent to around 300,000 euros,” he said, still holding the scarf as he rambled on. "It is also related to liturgical attire, it symbolizes power, wisdom, and is the perfect combination between the energy of red and the calm of blue”

“Oh yeah, I… I knew all that before I bought it, I didn't choose it just because I think purple brings out your eyes” you blatantly lied, making your friend laugh tenderly.

“What I meant to say is that I like it” he added, a little embarrassed by the smile and attention with which you had been observing him. You always did that when he wandered off, leaving him helpless and not knowing how to react.

"You said it has to do with wisdom, right?" you exclaimed and he nodded gently "Do you think there's some weird psychological reason why my brain knew that and linked it to you or was it just a coincidence?"

"Well, it's hard to explain..." he began to say, turning a little in his seat to be closer to you and begin a long explanation about the connections that our brain creates with things and people.

You were completely exhausted but you didn't have the heart to stop him from saying anything he had to say and you listened intently as much as your body would allow, until eventually you were lulled to sleep by the sound of Spencer's soft voice. When he stopped hearing your hums he realized that you had already fallen asleep and he moved your body carefully until you were completely reclining on the chair, so that when you woke up the physical pain of sleeping on the plane would be less. He, for his part, stayed in the seat next to you sheltered your rest, and at some point ended up asleep too.

The day after she came back from Miami, Spencer was already wearing the scarf you gave him. He had matched it with a brown coat, a vest in a darker shade of purple than the scarf, and a white shirt that together made him look perfect. Also, his well-brushed straight hair fell to the side and his tanned skin looked particularly clean.

You didn’t need to tell him anything because the smile you gave him when you looked him up and down was reason enough for him to be flattered and also proud to receive your approval. All day you watched him, a bit for the garment and a bit for the very pleasure of admiring him, and you noticed that he frequently checked that everything about him looked good, as if he was trying to impress you. Every time he spoke he avoided looking at you, only at you, but you couldn't take your eyes off him.

The day after that he used it too and the next day and the next, to the point where it was strange to see him go anywhere without it, as if it had become a part of him. After a week, while they waited in the boardroom, Elle finally had the courage to face the situation and ask Spencer why the particular choice for something for everyday use.

"It's that his girlfriend gave it to him" answered Morgan, before the brunette could say anything.

"What? No! Y/N is not my girlfriend” he said, completely embarrassed and making sure with his eyes that you weren't around to hear that.

"Oh, now I understand" JJ joined the conversation.

"You understand what?"

“You are always taking care that it doesn’t get dirty or stained”

"Yes, I don't like my clothes to get ruined"

"But more so if it's something his girlfriend gave him" insisted Morgan and in a fit that no one expected Spencer took a ball of paper and threw it at his face. That just got a collective laugh.

"I just like it. That's all”

"We all know you like her, Reid," added Hotch, who had kept quiet thus far and didn't even look up from the files. He flushed red to the ears as the rest of the team shared another laugh, and just seconds later you and Gideon walked through the door.

"Good morning"

"Good morning" answered the others, like school children before the arrival of a teacher. There was one seat left next to Morgan that Gideon took and that forced you into the only remaining chair between Elle and Spencer.

“Did I miss something interesting?” you murmured, leaning into him and smiling close to his face.

"No" he replied kindly, feeling your gaze drop from his eyes.

"Your scarf," you said, reaching out your hands to move it a little around his neck "It was out of place"

Everyone else, except for Gideon, shared knowing glances and stifled giggles as they watched the nervous way he thanked you. It didn't help too much that for the entire meeting you were completely distracted looking at your partner next to you, making the whole team wonder when the two of you were finally going to end up kissing.

[bluegekk0]

// The Cycle //

(au details below)

After his banishment from The Gods' Plane, Grimm is too weak to sustain his physical form indefinitely. As a result, his physical body is stuck in an endless cycle of death and rebirth, as its lifespan is limited and its powers are limited

The Nightmare King, and his physical body, Troupe Master Grimm, are the same being separated by the barrier between the physica world and his nightmare realm. They exist simultaneously, they share thoughts, memories and personality traits, although their physical appearance differs - the physical body is smaller, its body lacks the extensive fluff, and is more organic in nature. Within the nightmare realm and with the Nightmare Heart's power, Grimm has full control over the body's physical and physiological aspects, and so its appearance may change following each ritual if he so desires. However, each body withers away over time, and thus it must be replaced periodically. Unfortunately, with the Heart's limited power, the vessel must spawn in a reduced form and grow with the help of his troupe (or any volunteer). Collecting nightmare flame speeds up the process, as does the presence of the previous body, which then gets consumed by flame and replaced by the new vessel

---

Stage I ("Grimmspawn") - the vessel that spawns from the nightmare flame. It is small in size, but capable of flight. Its legs and arms are underdeveloped, and its body is covered in fluff. Its eyes are closed, and the head is similar in shape to a teardrop, as the horns are not separated in this stage

Stage II ("Grimmchild") - having absorbed nightmare flame, the vessel grows in size and its limbs develop. The headshape resembles that of the final form, although its body is noticeably more serpentine in shape, and its fluff covering is more sparse. Consuming more flame allows it to continue growing until it reaches its final stage

Stage III ("Troupe Master") - after the previous vessel is consumed by flame, another takes its place. This form is most commonly known as the Troupe Master Grimm, or simply just Grimm. Despite its status as a vessel, it stands equal with the Nightmare King - it is with this body that Grimm is able to interact with the physical world, and so this stage lasts the longest, up to a few months

However, in this form, Grimm requires blood in order to sustain his physiological functions for a longer period of time, as his heart and circulatory system are weak. Similarly, he rarely uses the full extent of his powers, as doing so weakens him and forces him to rest in order to regain his strength. Although he lacks the long tail and the wings of his previous stages, his cloak can move around and warp into different shapes, most commonly into tendrils and spikes

Despite his weak heart, Grimm's body functions as you'd expect - he is capable of consuming and digesting food, and even reproduction (though the body is usually designed to be infertile, as a preventive measure). Interestingly, he is unable to cry, likely due to the unnatural aspect of his eyes

Stage IV - if the ritual is delayed for whatever reason, Grimm's body starts showing noticeable signs of decay. He becomes physically weak, he gradually loses his voice, and he starts shedding fur from his limbs. The flame rages from within his body, and smoke escapes through his wounds. His eyes lose their scarlet color and start leaking, making him appear as if he's weeping. The body eventually burns down, and if this occurs outside of a ritual, the next vessel is unable to consume its flame, meaning it takes a much longer time to grow. Grimm rarely allows himself to reach this stage, preferring to replace the body while it is still in a functioning state, as it makes the entire process much smoother

[cydork]

Alien Questionnaire - A Biological Perspective

A while ago, somebody linked me a very comprehensive worldbuilding questionnaire. For most aspects of a fictional society, it was great, but I noticed it assumed that anyone using it was making up a fictional human society, or at least a society of beings very similar to humans. As such, there was almost nothing in the biology department, which to me is one of the best parts! Thus, this questionnaire was born.

These questions are designed to help people worldbuild from a biological foundation. As such, the questionnaire only touches lightly on other aspects of a fictional society, and is more of a jumping off point. I wrote it with the aim of using it to develop aliens, but it should be suitable for any project with non-humanoid species, such as sapient terrestrial animals.

Have fun! I'd love to see your answers :)

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

General Anatomy How many limbs do they have? Do they have limbs at all?

What are their primary manipulators? Where are they located? How does this affect their tool use, building ability, etc?

What kind of body covering do they have, e.g. hair, scales, feathers? How do they clean it? Do they shed this covering constantly, or all at once at certain times? 

Can they maintain a constant body temperature? If not, how do they deal with changing environmental temperatures? 

What kind of habitat do they live in? Both specific habitat, and broader such as on land vs in water.

What adaptations do they have for living in this habitat?

What kind of creature did they evolve from?

What are the similarities and differences to their closest living relatives? 

What resource(s) is the most necessary and urgent for them? E.g. for many animals, but not all, it’s water.

What are some common mutations? E.g. eye colours, ability to digest lactose in humans.

What injuries or illnesses are considered disabling? 

How is their healing ability? Can they regenerate? If they can, is that limited to certain body parts or a certain number of times?

Senses What senses do they have? E.g. sight, smell, electroreception, etc.

How good are those senses?

Which of their sense/s do they use the most in everyday life?

How might this choice of sense impact the way they interact with the world? 

Can they detect things that Earth creatures cannot? If yes, how and why?

Movement  How do they move? Do they walk, crawl, fly, etc? 

If they have multiple modes of movement, which is preferred, and why?

Which part/s of their body do they use to move?

What is their speed and endurance like? 

How agile are they? 

Do they rely mainly on their own bodies for travel, or do they use pack animals and machines? 

How often do they move around? Are they mainly sedentary, do they move a lot within a set area, do they migrate, etc?

Do they have different levels of mobility depending on age, sex, or other biological group? E.g. young barnacles are able to swim, while adults are anchored permanently to a surface. 

Reproduction and Lifecycle  How many sexes are there? 

Are there differences between the sexes (ignoring the reproductive system)? 

Are there different castes, such as in honeybees or naked mole rats? If so, what is the function of each caste? 

Are differences in sex or caste used to justify discrimination or hierarchy? How might these ideas differ in different populations? 

Do they have a concept of gender? If so, is gender affected by sex, caste, or some other factor?

How do they attract a mate? Do they release a chemical into the air, do an elaborate display, etc?

Does one individual try to actively woo another, or is courtship more mutual?

What do they find attractive in members of the same species?

What is the usual reproductive partnership? E.g. two individuals, one main reproducing individual with a harem, no set partner, etc. 

How long do they live?

How are young brought into the world? Live birth, eggs, spores, etc?

Is producing young a painful, dangerous process, or is it easy?

How much parental investment is there? Are there many young with little investment, or few young with a lot of investment (r vs K strategy)? Or is it somewhere in the middle? 

How many offspring are produced at a time? Think about how attitudes towards children may differ between a species that produces one or two, and a species that produces dozens or even hundreds at a time.

How do they grow? Are they born looking like miniature adults, gradually growing bigger? Do they have specific phases of high growth, like puberty? Do they have a larval phase, metamorphosis? 

How self-sufficient are they as young? Can they move around and feed themselves as soon as they are born? Do they require parental care? 

What is the usual structure of childcare? Single or multiple parents/related individuals? Communally raised? 

Is sex purely for reproduction, or does it serve other purposes?

What kind of sexuality is considered the norm? This doesn’t just refer to same/other sex pairings, but the culture around sex in general.

Diet and Foodchain What is their diet? Are they carnivores, omnivores, frugivores, insectivores, etc?

Do they feed off an unusual source, for example rocks, metals, or (in appropriate settings) something like magic or souls?

What physical adaptations do they have for this diet? 

Is their diet very restricted, or can they have a wide range of foods?

How often do they eat? What is the culture around mealtimes, if any?

Are they prey for other organisms? For each other?

If they are, how do they deal with it? Do they fight back, have barriers, or do they accept it as a part of life?

If they are hunters themselves, what is their attitude to killing other organisms? Are they respectful? Prideful of their kill? Is it completely trivial? 

If they are hunters, how do they hunt? Are they solitary or packhunters? Are certain members of the group designated to hunt? 

Are the results of foraging or hunting shared, or is it everyone for themself?

Are they parasitic, parasitised, or in a symbiotic relationship with any other organisms? 

Body Rhythms How often do they sleep?

What time of the day are they most active? Are they nocturnal, diurnal, crepuscular? 

Do they generally sleep for one long period a day, multiple shorter periods throughout, or something in between? 

Do they sleep to cope with extreme temperatures or bad conditions, i.e. hibernate or aestivate?

Do they have any biological processes that disrupt their life e.g. moulting, reproductive cycles, etc?

If yes, how does their society accommodate for these processes? Does it accommodate them at all? 

Communication What is their main method of communication? Sound, visuals, scent, etc? Think about their main sense and how this would affect communication.

What is their body language like? What small moving parts might aid their body language?

If they have multiple methods of communication, are they all given equal weight, or is one considered higher than others? 

Society How sociable are they? 

If social, what is the usual social structure? 

Are there hierarchies? How strict or relaxed are the roles?

How are disputes usually settled? Is it more common to be violent or appease the other party? 

If not social, what is the reaction to being with other individuals? Do they become aggressive or stressed? Do they tolerate each other? 

What is the usual size of a community? Do they have communities at all? 

Do they have an in-group vs out-group mentality? If so, how strong is it? This generally relates to how scarce or plentiful resources were during their evolution, and how territorial their ancestors were.

What kind of bonds do they form? 

On the spectrum of individualistic to community-oriented, where do they fall?

Do they have a strong sense of personal identity? Think about how this might tie in with the previous question. 

What are the main things they derive identity from? Occupation, gender, family ties, etc?

Do they have names? If yes, how are these names formed? Are they given by another party or chosen by the individual?

Have they domesticated any creatures? If so, what do they use these creatures for?

Do they have any unusual relationships with other creatures on their planet (beyond predation, parasitism or mutualism)?

Do they produce art? What are their main forms of artistic expression? Think about how this will be linked to their main sense(s), communication method, and/or primary manipulators.

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

GLOSSARY Primary manipulator: Main body part used to manipulate objects, e.g. hands in humans, trunks in elephants, feet in parrots.

Sedentary: Inactive, staying in the same place.

Caste (reproductive): A group within a species with differences in body type and reproductive ability.

Symbiosis/Mutualism: Interactions where both parties benefit, e.g. cleaner fish getting a meal in exchange for picking irritating parasites off larger fish.

Aestivate: To become inactive during hot or dry periods, usually involving being sealed in mucus or soil e.g. lungfish, snails. 

Reproductive cycle: Regular hormone fluctuations that affect an animal’s fertility or attitude towards breeding. The cycles can range from months to years and can include things such as antler growth in male deer, heat cycles, and menstruation in humans.

[certifiedbueckethead]

Study Break ✧.*

paige bueckers x college student! reader

warnings: making out, public sex (very much so), fingering, throat fucking,

word count: 1.6k

a/n: honestly one of my shorter ffs but it is what it is lol, also this is just a song rec but it’s also kind of similar to the plot I guess. It’s one of my favs

You stare out of the library’s window, tapping your pen to the table. Summer school just brings another level of boredom, you are dying to go outside and lay in the grass with your friends. It was golden hour, and everything just looked prettier outside. “Y/n, I brought you your iced coffee.”, your best friend Clara had said to you, snapping you out of your daze.

You are both studying for the first session of summer school finals, and have been taking turns bringing each other drinks. Whether it was red bull, coffee, monster or highly caffeinated tea, you both were locking in this entire week. Sure, your digestive systems were suffering the consequences, you just needed to finish off this session strong. You sip your coffee and flip through your digital flashcards when you were interrupted.

“Hey, uh the library is super packed here and you both have an extra two seats at your table, is it chill if we sit here?”, said an extremely tall blonde woman stood in front of you. She was wearing a white crop top and some cargo pants with her iPad in hand, and standing behind her was another girl you didn’t know. They looked familiar but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“No, yeah of course you can sit, we don’t mind.”, Clara said, because you just were staring up at the girl who had asked you. You couldn’t help it, you felt drawn to her pretty blue eyes. You nod aggressively, now embarrassed at the fact that your friend had to answer for you. “Yeah-, yeah of course, I’m sorry.”, you start, motioning to the empty energy drinks in front of you. “My mind is definitely somewhere else today, sorry about that.”, you continue to defend yourself.

“Nah, you’re good ma don’t worry about it. Thanks.”, is all the blonde says to you. You couldn’t help but to sneak a few glances at her. You felt your phone buzz, and you check it.

**Clara Bear**

are you gonna study for organic chem or are you going to continue to stare at Paige Bueckers?

I get it’s pride month, but its also FINALS?

That’s when you realized, they were basketball players at your school. You internally face palm, Paige must think you’re just another one of her fans. You look up at her, and catch her eyes this time.

“So, girl who keeps looking over at me. What’s your name?”, Paige says, keeping her voice low and pushing her chair closer to you, since you are in the library. “Ah, it’s Y/n.”, you say, avoiding her gaze. “Does Y/n know my name perhaps?”, she says, closing your laptop - trying to get your full attention. “Mhm, it’s Paige, you play basketball don’t you?”, you say back, trying not to seem like a fan. It’s not like you were, you didn’t even know her until Clara texted you, you’ve seen her in ads and stuff at your university but nothing like being her fan.

“So uh, me and Y/n will be back. Study break things.”, Paige says, back to her friend and Clara. Clara gives you a look, one that says “don’t get into any trouble” before blowing you a kiss. You scrunch your face and flip her off, giggling. Your best friend knows you too much.

After following Paige out of the library and onto a hill in the field outside, you are finally able to breathe. The air has gotten crisp since the sun is going down, and you take a picture of the sky to capture the moment. Paige is quiet, also enjoying the fresh air. Before you know it, Paige pulls you onto the ground with her and the two of you roll down the hill together. It was calming almost, to have such a release, you felt all the stress that has built up these past few weeks from school leave your body as you laugh along with Paige. When you reach the bottom of the hill, you were laying in the grass, inches away from her face.

Paige’s blue eyes looked back into yours, before looking down at your lips and back to your eyes. Your breathing shortens, you’ve never even been this close to a girl before. Yes, you know you’re as gay as it comes but doesn’t mean you have had any experience. You spent all your time either studying or with your best friend, too scared to venture into the world of dating more or less kissing pretty girls you’ve just met. But you give in, give into the space between the two of you and your heart is beating out of your chest as Paige connects her lips with yours. The sky is a deep pink and purple colour as the sun sets, and Paige snakes her arm around your waist, under your shirt. You find it difficult to stop, to remove your lips from hers. She pulls away, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips together still. She doesn’t stop smiling at you and move, straddling her whilst she is still laying down in the grass and kiss her again. Between kisses, you ask, “this okay?”, and Paige reaches up and holds the side of your face, pulling you as close to her as she can.

Before you know it, Paige is holding your hand and dragging you back into the library, but into the top floor, the farthest set of bookshelves from the door. She pushes you against the bookshelf and begins to kiss your neck. Her hand glides under your shirt, against your stomach and soon finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it easily. Like she’s done it a million of times. Her lips don’t leave your collarbones and Paige lifts your up onto the ledge in front of the window. Your back presses against the glass and your legs wrap around her torso, pulling her close into you. From the smell of her perfume and the taste of her sweet sweet lip gloss, you can’t help but take everything in. Paige undoes her ponytail, letting her hair fall down onto her shoulders and looks down at you. “You haven’t had much to say ma, is this alright with you?”, she asks you, gently. You nod, knowing that whatever is about to happen is what you want. Looking up at her, you bring your hand to the back of her neck and she kisses you with as much desperation as you have. She separates you, only for a moment to replace her lips that were against with yours with two of her fingers.

You suck against them, the two long digits she has in your mouth, looking into her eyes. You can’t help but bring your hand down and rub your clit through your shorts. You moan against her fingers and she uses her free hand to move your hand that’s pleasing yourself and brings you down from the ledge to replace it with her knee. She starts to fuck your throat with her fingers and you are impatiently rubbing yourself against her knee. You close your eyes, to take in all the pleasure you are feeling when Paige whispers into your ear, “I’m going to need you to look at me sweetheart.”, and your eyes meet hers and you almost finish at the sight. She is looking at you like you’re worth risking everything to be caught in the library. She holds your waist with her free hand to stop you and you let out a loud whine and you are quick to cover your mouth. You didn’t even know you could make such noises and you start to feel the anxiety of getting caught. But somehow, it was making you even more needy and you didn’t want to stop. Paige slides her two wet fingers into your shorts, pushing aside your underwear and rubbing your clit gently. You don’t even have time to be embarrassed by how soaked your underwear was. You wrap your arms around the back of her neck and rest your head on her shoulder, moaning quietly as she takes her time to please you. “Paige please…”, is all you can say before she slides both fingers into your drenched cunt.

“You’re such a good slut for me, taking two of my fingers ma…. can you take three?”, she asks, her voice quiet enough for just you to hear. You moan in response, but that’s not good enough for Paige. “Use your words, or I will have to stop.”, she tells you.

“Please, I can take one more just put it in please.”, you say, trying your best to be clear and not make any other lewd sounds.

Paige slides a third finger into you and you rock your hips against her hand that’s place on her knee, so you could feel her fingers go deeper into you. Struggling to keep quiet, you suck on Paiges neck and you feel yourself get closer. You pill your lips away from the blondes neck, not mentioning how deep red the pretty bruise you left on her neck were. “Paige please.”, is all you say before giving her a look. “You can finish whenever you’d like sweetheart.”, she tells you and you move your hips faster as Paige shoves her fingers into you deeper and suddenly your gasping out for air as you cum all over her fingers and knee.

You take a few seconds to catch your breath and Paige sucks on her fingers quietly.

“You taste so good, we are definitely going to have to do this again sometime soon please.”, Paige tells you, and you look up at her and before you know it you’re reaching for her chin and kissing her.

“I’d like that.”, is all you say before standing up. You end up going to the bathroom to clean up the mess you made on Paige’s pants though she insisted she could do it herself.

Maybe this could be more than just a study distraction. Maybe she could be something more.

[alphynix]

Spectember 2024 #04: Forest Gelada

Someone who identified themself only as Pendrew asked for a "ruminant-like Old World Monkey":

After much of East Africa rifted off into a separate continent, shifting climate turned the alpine grasslands of what was once the Ethiopian Highlands into into warmer subtropical forests – and the highly terrestrial grass-eating geladas that inhabited the region adapted to new sources of food.

Yedenigelada pendrewsii is a large quadrupedal herbivorous monkey, about 1.5m tall at the shoulder (~5'). It has a specialized pseudoruminant digestive system with a three-chambered stomach, similar to that of camelids, and it occupies an ecological niche convergent with the ancient chalicotheres, selectively browsing on trees and shrubs while sitting upright and using its long clawed forelimbs to pull branches within reach. 

Unlike its highly social ancestors this species is mostly solitary, although during the breeding season groups of males come together in leks to compete for female attention. Displays consist of inflating large colorful throat pouches to make loud resonating calls, and flipping upper lips to bare teeth and gums.

[mystery-aberration]

Do not censor yourself/selves for others, and do not play into their expectations of who you should be. Do not exclude others simply so you are not excluded, yourself. Do not downplay your disorder, sexuality, gender or identity to make it easier for others to digest. Do not lie simply in order to fit in, unless it is for your own safety. Do not let others hatred of you rule over your own life, and do not let it influence you into hating others within similar communities or even your own.

Know that whatever or whoever you are is still important, even if you have to hide for now to stay safe. Your experiences, your identity, and you yourself are important and deserving of spaces safe to express yourself/selves.

I am so very tired of seeing people hate on those with stigma surrounding their identities. Otherkin, queers, psychotics, systems, trans and gender diverse people, and anyone society does not understand. You do not help your own group by harming another. You are only helping those against us all.

[breed-the-stars]

Imagine...

To become something akin to a pet for some kind of alien entity, in a similar, though not quite, way to how humans treat their own pets.

After several hours of thorough research, the alien learned how to take proper care of a human, and somehow they got ahold of you.

They can't help but make cooing sounds at you because you're just so adorable to them. Your alien owner loves giving you head scratches and massaging your back whenever you approach them, because the way you relax against them warms their heart.

They'll watch over you during various walks around their homeworld, but they're quick to stop you from approaching anything dangerous. There are times you pass by them and smell something terribly delicious they're preparing, and try to sample it for yourself. They know from their research that humans can't digest the seeds or pulp of the ghlotlei fruit, so they avoid giving it to you. Sometimes they'll let you have some drops of the juice, which humans can tolerate in low doses but it's not encouraged to give it too often.

You have your own little area to sleep in with a proper bed, but these aliens just LOVE using big plush furniture with internal heating systems, which you could honestly fall asleep on if you were tired enough.

Food is plentiful, though slightly generic. Your alien owner understands the basic concept of meeting calorie and nutritional requirements, at least.

What they seem to lack an understanding of, is that humans possess erogenous zones.

Oh it's nothing too crazy, they aren't massaging between your legs or anything. But the things you experience from the way they touch your back, your neck, sometimes your chest and abdomen...

Even when you choose to keep covered with the clothes you've claimed for yourself, it does nothing to stop the sensations.

It's nearly nightfall, and your alien owner is resting in the common area.

Part 2