#evolutionary arms race

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Moths in Disguise: these are all just harmless moths that have developed the ability to mimic wasps, bees, and/or hornets

Top Row (left to right): Eusphecia pimplaeformis and Myrmecopsis polistes; Bottom Row: Pennisetia marginatum

Moths are exceptionally skilled when it comes to mimicry, and there are hundreds of moth species that rely on that tactic as a way to protect themselves from predators. Their disguises are numerous and varied, but hymenopteran mimicry is particularly common, especially among the moths that belong to subfamily Sesiidae and family Arctiinae.

Yellowjacket-Mimicking Moths: Pseudosphex sp. (top and bottom left) and Myrmecopsis polistes (bottom right)

Some of their disguises involve more than just a physical resemblance -- there are some moths that also engage in behavioral and/or acoustic mimicry, meaning that they can imitate the specific sounds and behaviors of their hymenopteran models. In some cases, these moths are so convincing that they can even fool the actual wasps/bees that they are mimicking.

Such a detailed and intricate disguise is unusual even among mimics, and researchers believe that it developed partly as a way to trick the wasps into treating the mimic like one of their own. Wasps tend to prey upon moths (and many other insects), but they are innately non-aggressive toward their own nest-mates, which are identified by sight -- so if the moth can convincingly impersonate its model, then it can avoid being eaten by predatory wasps.

Wasp-Mimicking Moths: Pseudosphex ichneumonea (top), Myrmecopsis sp. (bottom left), and Pseudosphex sp. (bottom right)

There are many moths that can also mimic hornets, bumblebees, and carpenter bees.

Hornet-Mimicking Moths: Eusphecia pimplaeformis (top left), Sesia apiformis (bottom left), Paranthrene simulans (top right), Pennisetia marginatum (middle right), and Sphecodoptera scribai (bottom left)

Bumblebee-Mimicking Moths: Hemaris tityus (top and bottom left) and Hemaris affinis (bottom right)

Moths are some of the most talented mimics in the natural world, as illustrated by their mastery of hymenopteran mimicry. But it's not just bees, hornets, and wasps -- there are many other forms of mimicry that can be found among moths, and the resemblance is often staggering.

Moths deserve far more credit than they receive, to be honest, because they are so incredibly interesting/diverse.

Sources & More Info:

Journal of Ecology and Evolution: A Hypothesis to Explain the Accuracy of Wasp Resemblances

Frontiers in Zoology: Southeast Asian clearwing moths buzz like their model bees

Royal Society Publishing: Moving like a model: mimicry of hymenopteran flight trajectories by clearwing moths of Southeast Asian rainforests

[ruthlesslistener]

All this talk of breeding kink has resolved not one but TWO things in my brain.

First was cementing why it's kink. As far as I can tell there's not an easy line between kink and non-kink and it seems more related to what society counts as "normal" or not. Which in that view I kept thinking, well wouldn't reproduction be the most "normal" as it's the "point" (evolutionarily) of sex, and humans do in fact keep reproducing? Which just led to my brain spinning in circles on how arbitrary such definitions are.

And well. Okay I actually didn't resolve the arbitrary aspect, but it does make more sense how it would play out ask kink if the sorta fantasy aspect of breeding is disconnected to actual want for that.

Which led me to my second revelation of why I often (not always) find breeding kink stuff so disappointing. As someone who wants kids/pregnancy XDDDD And all I could think was "why don't you want to follow through" in such works. The worst offenders being tagged breeding and then not even....mentioning such a thing at all...(okay maybe that's just a tagging/bad writing problem).

Anyway I just enjoyed reading your thoughts. Made me think.

Yeah this sort of discussion really is deeply fascinating- its part of the reason why I'm so interested in sex from a scientific perspective, but it makes talking about it hard because of societal limitations (ie, rn I'm worried I'll be called a pedophile for exposing minors to discussions about sex, but since I'm just discussing it in a non-arousing context + clearly don't want to fuck kids I'mma file that away as my OCD being cruel to me). Thing is, it really is fascinating how it makes our brains tick! There's all sorts of papers by sexologists out there that talk about how its like a completely separate part of your brain from your logic center or something similar (been a while since I read any of those papers, so don't take this at face value), which is why you can have people like me who are repulsed by the idea of getting pregnant for various reasons but have a breeding kink. You're very literally not you when you're horny! The reason why I was musing about breeding kinks potentially being an evolutionary 'trick' to get people to have more kids is because it's one of the most common ones out there, despite lots of people not wanting to get pregnant- because its disconnected from the logic system and is way closer to 'instinct' than most other of our desires

The way I define 'kink' myself is some aspect integrated into sex that makes it a whole lot more arousing to an individual, but is not necessarily a commonality across individuals (and is separate from a fetish because its typically sexual in nature, whereas fetishes oftentimes don't seem to be tied to sex at all). Like, for example, people who are attracted to penises are, across the board, probably going to become aroused by seeing an erect dick, and watching people having sex is arousing even if you yourself are not attracted to either person in the picture. That's not a kink. But stuff like breeding, cuckholding, etc are, because while they're common as a source of arousal, they're not shared by everyone in the population. Though I do think that what you mentioned about there being a blurry line defined by societal rules def. does play a factor into it, because a lot of the super popular/common kinks are directly linked to what is seen as 'taboo', like nonmonogamy or public sex (I believe there's been extensive research on why rape kinks among afab people are so common, for example, and it's because society looks down on female sexuality so much that it's a way of uncoupling the person's shame at being horny from the actual scenario that arouses them- they cannot be 'impure' if they had no agency in what happened to them. Which is probably why someone like me, who thinks arousal is the stupidest thing to shame someone for, doesn't see the appeal at all. But that's a direct tie between social expectations and kink). Idk, the psychology of it is really fucking cool and I highly recommend checking out papers written on it sometime!!

As for why some fics get tagged as breeding kink without any mention of breeding itself- my guess is that because its so widespread of a kink that people's opinions on what constitutes it ranges anywhere from 'not stopping until the person is confirmed pregnant and then some' to 'unprotected PIV sex'. The former of which is what the definition should be imo, the latter which is the way more boring and vanilla option that you probably ran into

[briar-rolfes-research-oubliette]

I’ve never read an article that has made me lose my mind more than this. I’ve been recounting it to my fiancé like the play by play of a sports game

[six-legged-sea-leopard]

best thing about this is that p. onca mesembrina is thought to have been anywhere from lion sized to amur tiger sized. HUGE creatures. so azure can still have hopes of becoming a reasonably Big Boy even with mom’s natural growth inhibiting gene (he will, don’t worry)

OK‼️ ok ok okokok. so. denali’s grandmother is a north american lion (p. atrox), but the rest of her family are tanzanian lions (p. leo melanochaita).

azure’s father is a south brazilian red jaguar (p. onca mesembrina), buuuut his family is hiding a little secret: brazilian sabertooth (s. populator) ancestry. it’s far enough back that no phenotypical evidence is detectable… mostly.

[izvmimi]

Senku exhales deeply and releases the small screwdriver he’s holding in his right hand, and as the metal clatters quietly on his work surface, he admits to himself that for the first time possibly in his entire life, he’s having issues with concentration. 

Taking a swig of long-cooled coffee in his left and smoothing out a blueprint that he’d normally have committed to memory on the desk before him, he pores over the details of his newest invention again, but as the acrid taste of double shot espresso, taken black, hits his tongue, a flash of your wide smile comes to mind instead. The vision of you practically sweetens the aftertaste. He sighs, downs the rest of his coffee, then rubs his face with both his hands. Tilting back in his chair, he crosses his arms over his chest, jittery hands that now yearn to hold something soft and warm instead of being made to work. 

Love is the most irrational thing on Earth, really. 

Glancing at the digital clock just above his work desk, he finds that it’s late, close to 1 am, and you’re probably long since snoozing with far better sleep hygiene than he can ever afford (although he knows better, he always does). Perhaps if he just spoke to you, he’d be able to get that natural, primitive urge for companionship out of his system, that evolutionary shackle that keeps people fitting the mold rather than breaking through for societal advancement, but he only knows that feeding that desire is akin to throwing fresh meat to an endlessly hungry horde of dogs - never satisfied, always wanting more… a loud and wanting demand in his chest that doesn’t wane. 

His curious nature finally proves to be a detriment because rather than uncover the laws of the natural and advanced world, he wonders if he could know you to the very atomic level. What your likes are, your dislikes… how your heart stays tender and pliable even at the worst of times… how kindness is communicated from your thoughts to words spoken sweetly through soft lips… how you decide what to wear, what gives you comfort… if you think you’re as pleasing to the eyes and soul as he finds you…

He shakes his head as he contemplates himself wasting precious time thinking about a woman, but you’re not just any woman, are you? You’re that person who generates that specific neurochemical cocktail that keeps him preoccupied, distracted - sitting in a chair in the middle of the night wondering if you’ve slept well and if you’d be interested in him picking your brain. 

He looks at his phone, then looks away. He picks up his wrench, then places it back down. 

His heart races for a moment, and he looks upset at the coffee cup, now consumed to the dregs. If he could make another cup, perhaps he could regain his focus, perhaps…

He rises for a moment, sits back down, and in a split, uncalculated decision picks up his phone and calls. 

And you pick up on the second ring.

“... Senku?”

Your voice lacks the grogginess that would engender guilt for waking you up in the middle of the night. His mouth opens then closes for a moment, pulse quickening faster than any stimulant could hope to accomplish, and he quickly comes up with something to say. Anything, before you lose interest and question him just as badly as he questions himself.

“I need to run something by you. Do you mind?”

He can practically sense your smile on the other end of the line and it warms him from inside out.

Whether you understand his newest contraption is moot because you listen enthusiastically and you ask the right questions and he’s delighted just by the sound of your breathing on the other end of the phone -

Appetite for you whetted, satiated, and yet never truly full. 

[sitting-on-me-bum]

A rough-skinned newt crawls over a mushroom in Delta, B.C. Rough-skinned newts are common throughout coastal B.C. and are incredibly toxic when ingested — except by garter snakes, which have developed a resistance to the toxin in what scientists have called an “evolutionary arms race.”

Photo: Liz Towers

2023 Canadian Wildlife Photography of the Year

[mindblowingscience]

The theory of coevolution says that when closely interacting species drive evolutionary changes in each other this can lead to speciation—the evolution of new species. But until now, real-world evidence for this has been scarce. Now a team of researchers has found evidence that coevolution is linked to speciation by studying the evolutionary arms race between cuckoos and the host birds they exploit. Bronze-cuckoos lay their eggs in the nests of small songbirds. Soon after the cuckoo chick hatches, it pushes the host's eggs out of the nest. The host not only loses all its own eggs, but spends several weeks rearing the cuckoo, which takes up valuable time when it could be breeding itself. Each species of bronze-cuckoo closely matches the appearance of their host's chicks, fooling the host parents into accepting the cuckoo. The study shows how these interactions can cause new species to arise when a cuckoo species exploits several different hosts. If chicks of each host species have a distinct appearance, and hosts reject odd-looking nestlings, then the cuckoo species diverges into separate genetic lineages, each mimicking the chicks of its favored host. These new lineages are the first sign of new species emerging.

Continue Reading.

[katyawriteswhump]

Omega Found, Omega Lost, part 1

Title: Omega found, Omega lost; Chapter: 1/5; WC: 2372 Rating: M (will be E in later parts); Tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. For whumptober 2024, day 1 prompts: race against the clock, search party, panic attack.

Summary: Newly presented Omega, Steve, gets lost in a storm while out searching for Dustin. Unclaimed and un-mated, he's vulnerable to any predatory Alpha... but he can trust Eddie Munson, right? Whump, whump, whump but also shameless fluff!

Billion x thank you to @wheneverfeasible who kindly enabled the omega-verse fun <3<3<3

Chapter 1: Race against the clock (also here on Ao3)

Steve parked up on the edge of the forest and wandered out, wondering which of the noisy search parties he should tag along with. Icy drizzle lashed his glowing cheeks. The skies churned with clouds that resembled purple-black bruises. The winter storm brewing was nearly as intense as the shitstorm over the missing pups.

"Steve?” Chief Hopper left the group he’d been bossing around and thundered over. “What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Steve wrapped his arms tight around himself. Being yelled at by the most Alpha Alpha in the town pack was super-scary. He lifted his chin defiantly. "Dustin is my friend. I can’t stay on the bench for this."

"Don’t be a fool. Loan Alphas roam these woods at night. You know that, kid. You fall out of step, get left behind? You’re a stripling unmated Omega—you do the math.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Lone Alphas are animals who’d as soon spit-roast me alive as hump me. I’ve heard the scary bedtime stories so many times they genuinely make me doze off. Anyhow, they’d be freakin’ brain-dead, evolutionary full-stop Alphas to be skulking around for kicks on a night like this. 

Steve didn’t say any of that, of course. He mumbled towards his boots, “I could come with you?” 

"I can't be looking out for Hawkins’ mouthiest, most hothead Omega, when…"

Steve was never going to win. Even his trump-card reason for joining the search—the walkie-talkie he’d been trying to contact Dustin on for hours—was summarily dismissed.

“We have Lucas’s radio,” said Hopper. “He’s helping with the search.”

“Sinclair? Seriously?” Steve barely kept the whine from his voice. “He’s a pup! Look, I can take care of—"

"Omega, go home."

Steve’s breath jammed in his lungs. Hopper’s deep rumbling growl was pretty much inarguable. As was the arm Hopper slung around him to guide him back toward his car.

Steve drove off. He was so goddamn frustrated, and the worry inside him made his stomach churn as wildly as the clouds. He was nearly home before he slammed to a halt, tyres screeching and skidding.

Screw them all! He was an Omega, not a freakin’ pushover, plus there were pups in danger. Okay, not his pups, and in fact only a few years younger than him. That was total irrelevance. It was his duty as much as anybody’s to look out for them. In fact, presenting as Omega had been a goddamn relief, explaining a lot about his protective instincts toward younger kids.

Oh, and also about Eddie Munson, who’d presented as Alpha the year before Steve presented Omega. 

Simply thinking about Eddie stirred something wild in the pit of his belly. Eddie had been hitting on him, and yeah, Steve was interested. But was Eddie serious?

Eddie Munson never seemed quite serious about anything. Plus, Steve’s parents totally didn’t approve of him… and Steve had no capacity to worry about that mind-fuck tonight.

Dustin was missing. Obsessing over Eddie was making him confused and even more stressed-out, when he ought to be super-pumped to find his younger friend.

He drove back to the fringes of the forest then retrieved his walkie-talkie from the glove compartment. He wrapped himself up in woolly mittens and a scarf—newly knitted by his dad, so it was soft and springy and smelled comfortingly of home—and stomped off in the direction of Skull Rock. He’d a hunch that Dustin was with his girlfriend, so there was a small chance they’d moseyed in that direction, and then…

…Christ, he couldn’t bear to think what might’ve happened.

Steve gritted his teeth against the biting wind. Under the twilight, the fresh snow looked magical, like sweet frosting on the naked branches. He didn’t enjoy it for long. Soon, he waded through drifts that rose to his knees, the dampness soaked through his clothes and seeped into his bones. 

Worse, he wasn’t sure where he was.

He got out his flashlight. Dammit. He figured he knew this part of the forest like the back of his hand. Everything looked crazily different in the snow.

His breath grew short, and the cold burned his chest. Crap, he was scared, but he couldn’t surrender to it. He pulled out his walkie-talkie, removed his mittens to work the thing: “Dustin? Do you copy, you little shit?”

“Steve? Yeah! I copy! Holy crap, you have literally no idea! I’m fiiine, but there was this mammouth search, and…” Fuzzy white noise interrupted Dustin’s voice. Steve caught more snatches: “Suzie… cake… hot chocolate…” 

More white noise. Then nothing. Steve dialled madly, seeking an open channel.

“Dustin? Dustin! Anybody? Do you copy? What the heck? Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Please, come back!”

His radio was dead. Totally dead.

“Shit… Shit!”

The cold stiffened his fingers, hampering his efforts to get it working again. Night shrouded the forest completely, save the occasional flash of a near full moon between the fast-moving clouds. 

Oh God. Oh God. This isn’t happening. I’ve got to get home. I’ve got to get home! 

He pulled his mittens back on, smothered his face in his sodden scarf. He could barely glean the reassuring scent. Madly waving his flashlight around didn’t help, as the snow had healed over his footfalls already. Rooting himself to the spot, his mind began seizing up.

Oh help! Oh God… I can’t… can’t! Not by myself… I can’t… I need… Oh shiiiiiit!

Eddie Munson popped into his head.

Which was kinda screwball, but he’d take it. It wasn’t exactly a vision of Eddie, more of a feeling: an idea of Eddie’s body enveloping him, which set warmth glowing beneath his chilled skin. Steve wiped his eyes, shook himself as if waking from a dream. 

Deep breaths. You can do this, Harrington.

The wind had been behind him on his way, right? Okay, so he had to fight against it to return to his car. He set off, wishing the nasty-ass air would stay still, rather than battering him with slap after slap, much like his increasingly negative thoughts: 

Oh Jesus, he was an idiot! 

He couldn’t even follow his Omega instincts correctly without screwing the hell up. Maybe it would be different if he had an Alpha who wanted to mate with him, rather than dumb teen crushes. If he had a nest of his own, to feather for his pups. Oh God! Was he gonna freeze to death, or…

Oh, shit, shit, shit!

When he was home and safe, it was easy to laugh off scare stories about rogue Alphas. Right now, all he could think of was Tommy H, cackling in his face when he’d first presented Omega:

“You are gonna fuck this up so bad, Harrington. You’re such an airhead, you’ll wind up chained in some cave, breeding machine and fuck toy, till you’re not so pretty, and then…”

SNAP!

For a fleeting heartbeat, the sound alone shocked Steve, ripping him from his fearful thoughts.

Then the searing pain in his ankle tore up his leg and spine, and all but fried his brain.

He collapsed onto his butt in the snow, dropping his flashlight. He blinked through the gloom at the snare around his outstretched left leg. He’d walked straight into an old hunters’ trap or…

Maybe this is how those lone Alphas snare their victims?

The pain gathered pace, forcing him into gasping sobs. He was so cold. So scared. No more than a husk of quivering flesh. He huddled into a ball, small as possible, apart from his trapped and bleeding leg. It felt like every nerve and tendon was being ripped and chewed, over and over, by razor-sharp teeth, while cold gnawed hungrily through the rest of him.

When he tried to think, panic throttled him afresh. All he could do was feel, and all he felt was the all-consuming scorching of the fire and the ice, and… something else… another unendurable agony… a desperate yearning:

Please, Eddie… Alpha… Help me?

…

A strange gut feeling propelled Eddie to go open the door of the trailer. 

Fuck, it was cold! He stepped out, closed the door behind him, and squinted into the darkness. 

To be fair, Eddie liked the snow, and he never felt the cold or the heat too bad. Something about growing up in the trailer, he guessed—ball-shrivelling frigid in the winter, and sweatier in the summer than the contents of his snuggest leather pants.

Then Eddie smelt it, striking through the icy air like lightning. 

Fear. Blood! An Omega in trouble? Yes. And not just any Omega. This was the Omega he’d been crazy about for months. Okay, yeah, Steve had been playing kinda macho, hard to get. On the other hand, Eddie perceived that, deep down, Steve was plain scared of him, and he wasn’t sure how to make that right.

He nearly fled straight into the forest. Then he checked himself and went back inside to throw on a warm jacket and grab a flashlight. Steve was in trouble, crying and vulnerable. Eddie had to find him before some meathead Alpha—or lowlife Beta—got their filthy claws into him.

“Hold on, Baby. I’m a comin’.”

The journey passed in a blur. He muscled his way through the snow like he was the goddamn Hulk, not a rookie Alpha of barely a year, with a slender-for-an-Alpha frame. Before long, the scent that drew him grew overwhelming. Steve’s for sure. Blood, tears and naked fear dampened his usual delicious musk, which was like bananas and cream mingled with something even more potent and “grabby-handy.” 

Yup, Steve usually smelt as addictive as the finest weed he’d ever supped.

Eddie now stood dead still. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled, while he swept his flashlight beam across the snow, and then, “Steve!”

Eddie flung himself forward to where Steve was huddled. The white stuff smothered Steve so completely that, without the scent, Eddie could’ve missed him. Eddie dumped his flashlight and blanketed himself around Steve, shielding him from the storm. Steve tensed, whimpered, and struggled slightly, almost elbowing Eddie off. Eddie braced him tighter, rubbed soothing circles on his back.

“Sssssh, it’s okay, Baby. It’s me. It’s Eddie. I gotcha, I gotcha.”

It pained Eddie to unwind himself even as far as he needed to examine the terrified Omega.

“H-hurts,” whispered Steve, curling into Eddie, burrowing his face into Eddie’s chest. Eddie carefully roamed his hands down Steve’s body, checking for injuries.

His gaze alighted on the dark stains in the snow around Steve’s ankle.

And the metal hunter’s snare, lying by Steve’s leg and half-lost in a drift.

Steve’s hands were bare and bleeding too. Obviously, he’d somehow pried the thing off. Eddie’s blood boiled, while a terrible collapsing sensation in his chest seemed to tell him he’d failed already. 

“P-please don’t eat me,” Steve murmured. “Please help me.”

“Stevie?” He touched his knuckles to Steve’s pale cheek, captured a gaze fogged with pain and fear. “Look at me! Hey? Not gonna hurt you. Jesus, you know that, right?”

Steve kinda nodded, comprehension glinting, then his face crumpled completely, and he started to weakly cry. Eddie folded him against his chest, trying not to move his injured leg then gently tucked Steve’s injured hands under the folds of his jacket.

He must stop any bleeding, and get Steve out of here before he froze to death. The wind whooped ever harder through the trees, the snow battered them in horizontal gusts, and worse, Eddie was rattled, too.

Eddie Munson had never been a hero. 

Right outta the gate, this lousy, hierarchical world had conditioned him to be an outcast, a reject. A nothing. On the other hand, presenting as an Alpha had made some sense to him. After all, each time the world dealt him a crappy card, which was pretty much every day, he’d always been able to flip the bird and cackle like a maniac in its force-conformity face.

Right now, though, he was bordering on losing his shit. And Alphas weren’t supposed to do that, right?

Focus, Munson. First, you need to calm and comfort him.

He gathered Steve closer, so the Omega was huddled halfway into his lap, his head tucked on Eddie’s shoulder. Then Eddie dipped to rub his face in the curve of Steve’s neck—yup, right on that tantalizingly unbroken mating gland—dousing him in his scent. All the while, he shushed and soothed him, till Steve’s whimpers disintegrated into soft sighs.

Then he kept on gently rocking and cuddling him.

Steve’s breaths beat against Eddie's throat, and he sensed the too-fast patter of the Omega's heart. Boy, Steve aced at presenting tough. Right now, stripped bare, Eddie saw only how goddamn fragile he truly was.

��Thank you, Alpha,” murmured Steve, startling Eddie, “D-doesn’t hurt so much. Not c-cold anymore. Can’t feel my leg.”

Okay, that was a touch disturbing.

Once again, Eddie forced himself to focus. Which was harder than ever. This was the first time any Omega had called him Alpha, let alone one he was dippy about. If things were different, he’d have been howling ecstatically toward the next glimpse of the moon. Oh, and revelling in Steve’s ethereal prettiness, the shadow of those long lashes across his porcelain cheek, and the faintest vibration of the Omega’s purrs.

There was also the problematic fact that his knee-jerk notion of ‘comfort’ had been to douse Steve in his scent.

Good call, Munson. Douse first. Think later. When your dick’s gonna do most of the thinking for you.

Nope. This wasn’t a good time for his inner Alpha to dump him with a boner: “Okay, Baby, I’m gonna bind up your ankle, and then I’m gonna get you home.”

“Too tired. Want to sleep here. St-stay here with you.”

Yeah. Then we both die, Sweetheart.

Eddie pressed his lips to Steve’s temple. He thumbed Steve’s damp hair from those huge, befuddled eyes, and let his more protective Alpha instincts lead him:

“You gotta stay awake, Omega,” he growled. “Your Alpha is gonna take care of you, but you gotta come with me and do exactly what I say.”

Chapter 2 on tumblr Chapter 2 on AO3

...

If anybody fancies reading more chapters, which will be posted at intervals throughout the month, I would be happy to tag :) Or follow #katya's omega whump

My endless outpourings of Steve whump can be found on AO3 here :)

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Poplar Lappet Moths: these moths are able to mimic the dead leaves of a poplar tree (there is at least one moth in each of the photos below)

Above: the photo at the top shows two poplar lappet moths disguised as foliage (the two "leaves" on the left-most end of the branch are actually moths) and the photo on the bottom shows another poplar lappet moth clinging to a leaf

The scientific name of this species is Gastropacha populifolia, but it's more commonly referred to as the poplar lappet moth. It's also known as pappelglucke in German and feuille-morte du peuplier in French.

The moths are distributed across large sections of Europe, Russia, China, Korea, and Japan, but they're regarded as a rare species throughout most of Europe.

The shape, color, wing pattern, and resting position of this species all contribute to its unique disguise, as it bears an uncanny resemblance to a dead leaf. It even has a dark, snout-like projection (the labial palpi) that mimics the stem of a leaf, and its wing pattern completes the illusion with a dark, raised line forming the central "vein" of the leaf; the soft ridges and scalloped edges of its wings also add to the effect.

There are many other leaf-mimicking moths out there, but this species is particularly impressive.

The caterpillars also have a knack for blending in -- thanks to their cryptic coloration and fuzzy, setae-lined sides, they are easily camouflaged against the bark of a poplar tree.

Above: the photos at the top show Gastropacha populifolia caterpillars blending in by pressing their bodies flat up against twigs/branches, and the photo at the bottom shows one of the caterpillars in a more conspicuous setting

These moths are defended by more than just mimicry, though; they can also produce ultrasonic clicks that interfere with the echolocation signals of predatory bats, which allows the moths to avoid being detected (and ultimately eaten) by bats.

Above: the adorable face of a poplar lappet moth

Sources & More Info:

Nota Lepidopterologica: Continuous Long-Term Monitoring of Daily Foraging Patterns in Three Species of Lappet Moth Caterpillars

Catalogue of the Lepidoptera of Belgium: Gastropacha populifolia

Moths and How to Rear Them: Gastropacha populifolia

Wikipedia (German): Pappelglucke

Moths and Butterflies of Europe and North Africa: G. populifolia

EurekaMag: Effect of the Scale Coverage of the Moth Gastropacha populifolia on the Reflection of Bat Echolocation Signals

[graceofagodswrath]

Humans are Feral: Part 3

This is actually a continuation of the first part, but in a different scenario. I wanted to write a story with the idea of a human pack-bonding to an alien and going feral after seeing the alien hurt. It would a be a moment where aliens realize that while humans are dangerous, this kind of loyalty they can have for anyone or thing is a rarity and should be respected.

I also wanted to play around with the ideas of aliens reacting to human courtship. I’ve seen lots of headcannons and ideas as to how aliens may react to our openness when it comes to romantic relationships. Aka alien/monster fuckers. I hate you all because I am one of you.

So I decided to mix both and go with the scenario: what if a human’s alien S/O was threatened and hurt? I love the cliche of people going rabid after a loved one is hurt, it’s so nice to see humans actually caring for each other in this day and age.

WARNINGS - Implications of sexual trafficking, death, and violence.

Inter-species relationships were not an uncommon thing. However, they were met with equal skepticism and hate as they were welcome.

When humans joined the mix of races in the outer systems, it threw off those with prejudices against such relationships. While the young race was not without it it’s own trivial prejudices, the openness at which they had to forming lifepairs with non-human beings was unexpected. As humans branched out and their strange reputation became more than simple youngling stories, another reputation began to rise. That was of humans as life-mates.

While many still spurned others for finding partners outside their races, among the community it was seen as a huge honor to have a human as a life-mate. They were deemed high-maintenance and challenging to match, yet their loyalty held no bounds.

It wasn’t long before this became a small joke among the humans. They knew their species, and the idea the outer races had of them as lovers was too good not to joke about.

While they could not quell the rising rumors and fantastical stories surrounding their species, as much as it annoyed some, others took it in stride.

Quil’ian was a xicali of the dexi-10 planetary system, from the jungle planet Huvarrh. Stunningly large beasts, xicalis resembled bipedal humanoids with two pairs of arms and four fingered hands. Smooth, iridescent skin emblazoned with unique patterns covered their bodies. In dark spaces they often glowed with their own soft bioluminescence. Two large eyes of various dappled shades sat on either side of their flat noses. Scientists theorized that humans and xicalis must have had a similar evolutionary path from an ancestor of ape-like characteristics. But where humans remained in the ground, xicalis remained in the trees, their strong arms capable of immense strength for swinging from branch to branch.

Quil’ian was such a xicali. His skin shimmered a cerulean blue so deep it rivaled the gemstones of Farcauv. His eyes were pools of amber, one his partner said reminded them of a sweet syrup called honey from their home.

Quil’ian’s life partner was a human named Amira. She was a well-respected starship engineer from the eastern reaches of the Terran homeworld. Black hair, sun-darkened skin and eyes the color of rich garden soil. She had a laugh like the singing bird calls of his homeworld, and soft words of whispered sweetness that made his legs weak. She was the light of Quil’ian’s life.

When they were about in public and chose to display their affections, it more than often drew side glances. Scathing looks. Jealousy. Yearning. Disgust. They paid no mind.

They found work together, traveling to distant worlds and exploring the nether reaches of the universe. Amira would be hired on as an engineer for a ship, while Quil’ian would work as a docker, using his natural xicali strength to move shipments and ship parts. They made quite the pair for any employer.

It was on such a job, on the freelancer starship Queen Diogovay, they found themselves in a dangerous situation. Alien Marauders had attacked, demanding all shipment and valuable items. And the captain was going to let them have it. They weren't going to risk violence and an injured crew. Until the marauders realized there were humans aboard.

Ever since humans had entered the galactum, the trafficking industry boomed. The want for humans for servitude, experimentation, and especially sexual uses made humans beyond valuable. One pretty Terran could make over several billion kronor.

Upon the Queen Diogovay there were five human crew members, including Amira. And the marauders wanted every one of them. When the pirates first grabbed hold of the ship, three of the humans disappeared while Amira and Sam stayed with the crew to try to keep the trespassers at bay.

This proved to be of no use, as the bastards pushed their way past the barriers and blood was spilled without hesitation. Quil’ian made a split second decision and grabbed both Amira and Sam, throwing the pilot over his shoulders and his mate safely in his secondary arms. Then they were booking it down the hallway.

Quil’ian had it in his head to reach one of the evac pods before the pirates caught up to them. The Captain had been against using them to try to keep the ship and goods from the marauders, but they were most likely dead now, the orders void. And Quil’ian had decided from the start his mate was his first priority.

He was several turns from the pods when a kalik hound rounded the corner and slammed into them full force. A creature commonly used for violence, it opened its massive jaws and jumped at the xicali. Pain tore its way up Quil’ian’s leg, and he couldn’t think past the feeling of the hound’s fangs tearing his calf apart and Amira screeching like a jakvy bird. Then the feeling of the hound’s fangs disappeared as soon as they sunk in.

Quil’ian opened his eyes to see Amira atop the hound, arms wrapped around its throat as she attempted to choke it into submission. Sam had a metal pipe in their hands and was slamming into the hound’s face. The two were snarling and screaming right back at the alien dog, enough fury in their eyes to rival the violent creature. And Quil’ian watched as his mate tipped her head back and sunk her own teeth into the soft flesh of the beast’s neck.

It screamed, and Sam shoved the metal pipe down its throat, flesh tearing as the pole exited through the underside of its jugular. It fell to the ground thrashing, but the two humans doubled down in their efforts until the beast stilled. Quil’ian had never witnessed a hound fall so easily, the beasts known for their dexterity.

Then Amira was by his side, her mouth covered in the hound’s orange blood. Her hands made quick work of the sweatshirt she was wearing, tearing it into a single strip to wrap around the massacre that was the xicali’s leg. Her hands were gentle, a drastic change from the viciousness he just witnessed. The xicali stared at her for a moment, then concluded he would have been just as violent had the beast wrapped its jaws around her. If anything, a shiver went up his spine, one that was not unpleasant, at the realization that his human mate was willing to go to such drastic measures to protect him.

When the binding was done, Amira and Sam did their best to haul Quil’ian to his feet, the xicali towering above them. They made their way to the evac pods, spurred on by the distant yells and screeches from the marauders. It was both surprising and not when they got there and found the three other humans preparing the pods. One of them, Kaeveon, immediately went to their aid, muttering about the captain being a “fucking fool” and how they should have jumped as soon as the pirates boarded.

But all went calm as they entered the pod. The pirates were apparently too busy searching the entire Queen Diogovay for the missing humans to consider that they were already gone. In moments they were out in deep space, heading to the nearest station they could take refuge at. Amira was tucked into Quil’ian’s side for the whole duration, the couple refusing to let the other go. They treated the xicali’s injury with the med kit in the pod. It was enough the keep the woman from fussing over him too much, though her mate admitted to himself that he was rather basking in her concerned care.

Perhaps, after this incident, Quil’ian would try to convince her to settle somewhere. Maybe back on his home planet, in a small home in the trees, with a view she would love.

I’m sorry this took forever to put out. Not my best work since I started it months ago and lost the motivation until now. My mental health hasn’t been the best these pst few months, but we’re on the up, and writing this has definitely put some inspiration back on the table. Hope y’all enjoy this smaller snippet. And I really like the possibilities with Quil’ian and Amira, so maybe I’ll have some more stories starring them.

[charseraph]

A planet with four sophont races and a sharp technological gradient.

The water peoples expanded along one landmass’s coastline and gulfs, and became the first to weave and construct permanent settlements.

The earth peoples had learned to genetically engineer the plant life growing around them, designing species for tasks like intercommunications, medicine, construction, and travel.

The air peoples spearheaded aviation technology for the planet, and had been on the precipice of an industrial age upon contact.

The fire peoples were the last to be contacted on their isolated continent. Some ancient Firish art depicts the aircraft of the more advanced other civilizations. They rely on two symbiotic species to move, emote, and manipulate with.

Due to the evolutionary gaps between the races, natural languages are usually incompatible. Tactile and sign are the most popular shapes for intermediaries to take.

While signs and touches have been quickly modified to include a simplified form for the fire peoples’ single arm to express, the full expressive potential of Firish emotion does not have an outlet in common language, and full physical accommodation for their symbioses in public spaces is unheard of.

[kelocitta]

On Tumblr

I will not be moving. I'm fed up with AI but its a system that has poisoned every other site already, and poisoned the internet at large. Other than turning off the toggle and being mad that its happening again, I'm more than aware that my control over my work has already become increasingly flimsy on the internet landscape. Frankly, our data was scrapped through search engines long before tumblr asked for a cut of the pie just due to its public nature. So its hard to care that much by yet another site doing such, but its especially frustrating given how long tumblr did resist many of the temptations of data selling. Additionally, tumblr as a site handles content differently than others. A deleted blog's posts can still circle indefinitely due to the nature of how reblogs work. Deleting everything offers little protection, and moving anywhere else is just an additional ticking clock until similar happens, has already happened, or the sites are so new and flimsy that if you pay attention at all you can already see cracks ghosting along their design or operation. However it should be noted this frustrating move comes directly after another gross mishandling of privacy, site protections, and frankly a bafflingly public display of bigotry at the hand of the site CEO. It has been truly horrific that not only is this a consistent problem, but its one that comes at the tail end of a, frankly, much more upsetting action. I guess if I ask anything its to not let the existence of this new problem completely overwrite those events. Basically, I'm tired. More accurately I'm just fed up. AI scrapping is a problem I get very little say in, that's really the whole issue with its use of scraping as training method- the lack of say. I'm not a paying customer who can revoke support for a product, I'm just another individual experiencing the 'content' equivalent of a pickpocket. Glaze and nightshade are not fullproof solutions, nor do they 'poison' data sets in the way people might believe they do. Its an evolutionary arms race, but one with rollback and a billion different hydra heads. So yeah- I'll just grit and bare it and keep my money to myself. That said, for the people who truly want other options, I have other accounts on Twitter (Consistently used, although I talk and share less) and Bluesky. (Don't particularly like)

Sorry that the modern internet continues to suck!

[mixelation]

*devil on your shoulder voice* what if you went into a really detailed rant about why you hate the earth is space australia posts

>:(

common themes i don't like:

"oooh humans scawwy because PREDATORS" - shut the fuck up. you're being childish. are you aware that YOU are also prey in the right circumstances? predator-prey dynamics are diverse and often shifting (look up "intraguild predation"). you are literally making interspecific interactions less interesting by doing this

"pack bonding" - this isn't a thing. this isn't a term i can find used outside of this specific genre of post and a couple of dog training books. it has no biological or sociological basis. i asked a psychologist about it and they said y'all are wrong

why are we making posts hyping up humans, only to write those posts as terrified of interacting with the incredible diversity of human behaviors and attitudes and cultures. like in these posts humans are all universally "bonding" with strange creatures and acting like physical tanks in pressing situations. if the point was a love letter to humanity you'd think you'd get actual characters representing different facets of humanity instead of a single caricature

speaking of which, why are we romanticizing human traits which are not universal. yes, some humans can [physical feat] but many cannot. why do so many posts seem to be gloating over a "feat" i'm like 93% sure the OP cannot do

i hatehatehate the format of them as an alien having a conversation with a human, where the human calmly explains something about earth (almost always poorly/inaccurately) while the alien freaks out. i hate how 50% of the sentences either begin or end with the phrase "but yeah" because the writer doesn't know how to conclude a thought when they're waxing poetic about a topic they have a very shallow knowledge on

posts often don't seem to realize they're implying absurd things about how aliens work. like i just read one about how earth is ultra diverse, implying aliens have very low biodiversity, and earth is shocking for the aliens. however, if true, without the ongoing coevolutionary arms race provided by a diverse environment, how did the aliens evolve to the point where they have space travel? i want to know about how THAT planet works, not read someone on tumblr recite a bunch of lukewarm biology facts they only kind of half know

also why are there so many scenarios where the aliens meet their downfall because they just.... didn't do any observations/research before doing something? and it's never a clever thing like "they observed for years but missed X for Y reason." it's always just like "....and then they were dumb and we were so clever and smartbrained!!!"

idk why tumblr is obsessed with taxonomy but they get especially bad at it when aliens come up. guys. the aliens would use different systems because they have a separate evolutionary history. or if they used the same system--- why?! how did THAT happen???? see my point about implying absurd things about aliens

"isn't science terrifying" - NO IT'S NOT, THAT'S JUST HOW THINGS ARE???? i hate this attitude and i find it boring. also no offense but i don't get the appeal of writing aliens shaking in their boots at the idea of [earth thing] instead of being excited to find a cool knew thing. like why go into space if you're not enthused by finding out new things and getting to learn about how the universe works. why is the interest in otherworldly biology never mutual. why is it so important to you that aliens be afraid of us and humans be the most specialest darlings in the universe

back to the "conversation" format. i know most people are not scientists so there's no reason to know this, but. most biologists know a lot about one thing and not a lot about everything else. your intro bio professor seems like they know a lot because they know intro bio and you do not. if you started asking in depth questions about, idk, the wrong type of fungus or something, they'd tap out. so it drives me batty when "scientist" characters are written like they're genuinely trying to explain something where most biologists would be like "uh, well, that's not my area of expertise--" like yes I understand part of the appeal of those posts is that some people just like listing things that they know. however one thing that i know is how biologists tend to talk and you're hurting me

[charyou-tree]

I'm thinking about changeling myths

What if the fae were brood-parasites of humans?

What if, like cuckoo birds, they left their own young to be unwittingly cared for by another species? Perhaps fae children have become excellent human-mimics out of sheer necessity, with humans trying to recognize the intruder and evict them in an evolutionary arms-race. Maybe they must leave their forcibly-adopted homes before adulthood, lest their fully grown fae forms arouse suspicion, and that most dangerous human threat-response: an angry mob. Perhaps that's why humans have the "uncanny-valley" response of instinctive distrust and aversion to nearly-humans.

What if most fae didn't steal human children outright, but placed their young into the homes of human families that had recently lost a child? Perhaps they took advantage of the tragically high ~50% child mortality rate of preindustrial societies, filling the gaps in families with their own children. Maybe they knew on some instinctive level that they would be cared for by the grieving parents who were thankful for the seeming miracle. Maybe they also knew not to leave a fae child in a healthy human home, for humans would certainly notice if there was suddenly an extra child after all.

What if, sometimes though, they were maybe a little too quick? Perhaps switching out the still-warm body of the human infant who had died in the night with their fae young before the human mother even realized that her child had perished. Maybe from her perspective, it would seem like her child was stolen and replaced, even if it wasn't the fae's fault that they had died.

What if desperate fae mothers would occasionally resort to killing a human child, lacking any other suitable home to place them into? Perhaps It was risky, trying something so overt, but biological imperatives being what they are she would find herself compelled to go through with it before her own child starved. Maybe she made it look like an accident, or a sudden illness. Maybe sometimes they really did switch out the human's offspring for their own, not to steal the human child, but tragically to leave them alone to die of neglect, a sad but necessary price to ensure that their own child might prosper. Maybe it wasn't such an emotional thing for the fae. Maybe they saw it as no different to how the humans culled bulls and rams to ensure that their herds and flocks were amenable to domesticity.

What if particularly nasty fae outright threatened human families that were starting to become suspicious of their strange wild child? Perhaps openly demanding that they continue to raise them, or face the horror of having their remaining human children killed if they were to kill the fae's child, the way that brown headed cowbirds do to the species that they burden with their eggs. Maybe the rest of the local humans lived in fear of looking too long at the wide-eyed children, or even just whispering the word "changeling", knowing that another child might "mysteriously" fall ill, and then suddenly appear to "recover", but would never be quite the same.

What if it was hardly the fae's fault, but simply their nature? Perhaps a mother fae felt stark terror even after placing her young into the seemingly perfect home, knowing that even if the humans were merely to evict her offspring they were still as good as dead, for they knew no other way of caring for them. Maybe there were elaborate methods and rituals that were meant to give their young the best disguise and protection from human wrath that they could, in lieu of a more direct parental role that their species had long since shed like a vestigial limb.

What if more sympathetic fae sought a consensual childcare arrangement? Perhaps they would approach a grieving family openly, but cautiously, with an offer of a child they could raise in the place of the one that they had lost. Maybe they had learned that some humans would willingly raise nonhumans, after all they kept animals of all kinds, why not a child specifically evolved to be appealing to them?

What if there were whole villages that were relative safe-havens, mutualistic societies with mixed human-fae families an open-secret? Perhaps they disguised it from outside humans that wouldn't understand the arrangement, to protect all of their children, even the adopted ones. Maybe it was worth having a few extra mouths to to feed to also have an inexplicably good harvest every year, and a few pairs of unnaturally keen eyes that can see the things that go bump in the night more clearly than any diurnal ape ever could?

What if humans from such special places might even undergo the opposite exchange? Perhaps they sought out the fae's help during times of dire need in their adulthood, and received it, because they had helped raise their children after all. Maybe the fae they were pleading to for aid was even raised alongside them in their youth, and knew the human coming for their help as a beloved sibling, so of course they would do what they could; it would be repaid manifold by generations of safe fae children, free from the fear of death by discovery by angry vengeful humans.

What if changelings weren't a myth, or a monster, but an adaptation?

[therottenkingsreckoning]

Contrary to popular belief, demons and angels are usually neutral towards one another, rather than in direct opposition. It isn't like the stereotypical "cats & dogs", but much closer to what happened with the evolutionary line of wolves & dogs (the angels herein being wolves). That's not a direct comparison, but imagine if you were to amputate your arm, fling it into a subspace void, and watch as it somehow mutated into an entire race of beings over the course of a couple millenia. Also in this analogy, both you and the arm-race are made out of magical fire and something like "the concept of entropy" taking vaguely humanoid forms.

It's worth noting as well that angel society and behavior are not unlike that of a beehive or ant colony, being fiercely loyal to their host God and rarely if ever seen outside of the Heaven unless on direct orders from said host. They carry a strong sense of order and justice as all Cosmics do, but in angels this will typically be expressed out of obligation, while a demon acting similarly is more likely to be driven by subemotional instinct.

I can talk more on the subclasses of sentient beings and the magical system here if anyone's interested! A lot of things are quite finicky or unstable, so it won't be a comprehensive breakdown of what is definitely true in every case. But I can still give you a basic idea of what is probably happening, like, most of the time.

[lorrekeeper]

The Enydreian Explosion

The Uridachian Period ended not with a bang, but with a whimper. As the primitive creatures of the age began to refine themselves, they evolved the first mouths, the first guts, and the first complex body plans. The evolutionary progression of these multicellular organisms proved to be so devastating to the microbial algal mats of the era, that the algae were forced into decline, only surviving in extreme conditions that couldn't be reached by other organisms. This famine of the natural world prompted the first major extinction event since the Great Oxygenation Catastrophe almost 2 billion years ago, forcing many groups into decline and several into outright extinction.

The survivors, however, were forced to adapt to a new world of scarcity and competition. In the wake of the Global Famine, a new class of organism has evolved - the first predators. The appearance of these predators has prompted the appearance of the first means of protection - body armor, sensory organs, defensive behaviors -, which has forced the predators to further refine their methods to counteract the defenses of their prey. This has triggered an arms race between predator and prey, which has led to an explosion of biodiversity, the likes of which planet Astraea has never seen before, and will likely never see again.

It is now the Enydreian Period, and the ocean is in the midst of revolution. New species have been appearing at an incredible rate, and competition between these various organisms has turned the seas into a battleground. Whatever the outcome of this period of rapid evolution, the face of life on Astraea will forever be changed from it...