#india batting live

[loveisinthebat]

Ultra Rare Creatur

[louismygf]

guess i'll die! 🤷🏻‍♀️

[rjzimmerman]

Surprising New Research Links Infant Mortality to Crashing Bat Populations. (New York Times)

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

The connections are commonsense but the conclusion is shocking.

Bats eat insects. When a fatal disease hit bats, farmers used more pesticides to protect crops. And that, according to a new study, led to an increase in infant mortality.

According to the research, published Thursday in the journal Science, farmers in affected U.S. counties increased their use of insecticides by 31 percent when bat populations declined. In those places, infant mortality rose by an estimated 8 percent.

“It’s a seminal piece,” said Carmen Messerlian, a reproductive epidemiologist at Harvard who was not involved with the research. “I actually think it’s groundbreaking.”

The new study tested various alternatives to see if something else could have driven the increase: Unemployment or drug overdoses, for example. Nothing else was found to cause it.

Dr. Messerlian, who studies how the environment affects fertility, pregnancy and child health, said a growing body of research is showing health effects from toxic chemicals in our environment, even if scientists can’t put their fingers on the causal links.

“If we were to reduce the population-level exposure today, we would save lives,” she said. “It’s as easy as that.”

The new study is the latest to find dire consequences for humans when ecosystems are thrown out of balance. Recent research by the same author, Eyal Frank, an environmental economist at the University of Chicago, found that a die-off of vultures in India had led to half a million excess human deaths as rotting livestock carcasses polluted water and spurred an increase in feral dogs, spreading waterborne diseases and rabies.

“We often pay a lot of attention to global extinctions, where species completely disappear,” Dr. Frank said. “But we start experiencing loss and damages well before that.”

[a2z24]

IND vs NZ : Star Sports पर क्यों भड़क उठे Rohit Sharma, 3 साल का ताज या 14 साल का वनवास,

न्यूजीलैंड के खिलाफ़ वनडे सिरीज़ को तीन शून्य से जीतने के बाद टीम इंडिया वनडे क्रिकेट की नंबर एक टीम बन चुकी है। इंदौर वनडे में टीम इंडिया के कप्तान रोहित शर्मा के बल्ले से भी शतक देखने को मिला उम्मीद थी, Read more

[auggieblogs]

Where’s the trophy? | MV1 Instagram au

Max Verstappen x fem! reader

ੈ✩‧₊˚ In which they both are world champions

Author’s note: Hiii, my loves. I hope everyone is doing good. First of all thank you so much for 1k followers, I love you all so much❤️‍🩹. This is not my best work so, apologies in advance!!!

Also this was requested by lovely @sm3156 🥰 (thank you bubs). I had fun writing it<3

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

maxverstappen1

liked by virat.kohli, oscarpiastri and 567,771 others

maxverstappen1 Big congratulations to team India!!!🇮🇳 and my lovely wife. I couldn't be more proud, nothing but love for you❤️

tagged indiancricketteam and yourusername

comments:

username what a match, well played y/n!!!

username please this match had me biting my nails and everything

username just like max

username lmfao he was STRESSED 😭

maxverstappen1 I was actually about to throw up ☝🏻

username max is my favourite wag 🫶🏻

*liked by yourusername*

username like husband like wife (world champions)

virat.kohli Well done, champs. Y/N you're a ⭐

*liked by maxverstappen1 and yourusername*

yousername ❤️❤️❤️

username take a bow everyone

username im not even a cricket fan but i watched it for y/n and it was so worth it

username max giggling like a little girl every time y/n blew him a kiss was my highlight

yourusername So glad you were here to witness it💖

*liked by maxverstappen1*

maxverstappen1 No where I'd rather be.

username she knows how to ball...and bat

username scoot over max verstappen, she's our wife now

username feeling proud indian armyyyy (IYKYK)

oscarpiastri 🏆🇮🇳

username Y/N L/N THE WOMAN YOU ARE!!!!

yourusername

liked by landonorris, redbullracing and 456,332 others

yourusername My world champion❤️‍🔥 no. 1 looks great on you!!!

tagged maxverstappen1

comments:

username they are so alchemy coded OMFG

username WHERE'S THE TROPHY HE JUST COMES RUNNING OVER TO MEEEE

redbullracing When both of them are world champions>>>

username redbull admin is the biggest y/n & max shipper

username max verstappen i was always familiar

maxverstappen1 Had to live up the L/N name😉

yousername I'm a very proud wife;)

username he is so fucking hot my god

usernmame my fantasy threesome actually.

danielricciardo our* world champion🙄

yousername no sharing tonight im afraid🤷🏻‍♀️

username WOAHHHHH ITS A FAMILY SHOW

username or is it???

username she's literally not better than max, we all saw you throwing away your headsets y/n😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username she was about to commit crimes after that horrible pit stop 💀

yourusername i was pissed okay 😞

username HELP they are equally whipped for each other

[strangebiology]

John Oliver just did an episode on body donation, which was very well-reported as usual.

It cites some older news including this amazing series on body brokers by Reuters. Some thoughts on anonymity being an issue:

It is shocking that there is no regulation on what it means to donate your body to "science," although, I'm not sure exactly who can say what that definition is or should be. Also, plenty of people would be happy to have their bodies used in a museum, but you CAN'T, because body donations are shuffled around and anonymized. We wouldn't have any issue with consent if we let people who WANT to be on display be on display.

When I read The Red Market, an amazing book about the trade in human body parts, it really highlighted the issues with mandated anonymity. WHY does a deceased heart, kidney, or blood donor need to be anonymous? That policy has led to horrific abuse of donors all over the world (egregious examples are given in China and India), living and dead, and the recipients have no idea because of that mandate. Mandated anonymity is a shield against regulation, public understanding, and accountability.

I wonder if people believe in anonymizing things because they think that makes the death not real. I've noticed people selling all sorts of human and animal remains with no description as to where they came from, and no one asks, and no one complains. I understand; sometimes some information is lost to time, or a business owner maybe can't take the time to verify the exact origins of things. Fine.

But take for example all these human fetuses for sale on Facebook. I'm not here to argue about that, although it's odd, and I understand both sides of the controversy regarding selling them. When I saw those posts, no one bats an eye.

Then when someone offered to sell her own aborted fetus (context: this person went in for an abortion but was told the fetus was dead anyway) people freaked out. In the same group where they're buying the fetuses of strangers. So...it's only ok to sell body parts when the person whose body it came from did not consent? That's our standard?

The same goes for animal body parts. "Hey, buy these dead rats!" Fine and dandy. "Buy these dead rats! Here is some context about their lives and/or deaths--" Disgusting! How dare you! Those were living things!

Death is disgusting and horrifying and I'm NOT saying that everyone has to think about it all the time or look at dead bodies or even understand it. What I am saying is that when we complain about transparency and enact policies that make it impossible to actually understand who these body parts are coming from, or to track them, that breeds an industry where abuse of consent is hard to avoid.

Lastly, the end of the Last Week Tonight show showed what happens when you let donors be known. It's beautiful.

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

The Painted Woolly Bat (Kerivoula picta): this bat species has a stunning orange-and-black appearance

Kerivoula picta is commonly known as the painted woolly bat, thanks to its strikingly colorful appearance and thick, curly fur. Researchers believe that its orange coloration might actually serve as camouflage, to some extent, as it has been reported that the bats can easily blend in with dried leaves and flowers when they are roosting.

For several months each year, these bats form small family units that generally contain two adults and one pup. They often reconnect with the same reproductive partner over multiple breeding seasons.

This species is increasingly threatened by the international demand for so-called "bat décor:"

... painted woolly bats (Kerivoula picta) are collected and killed in their native habitat in South and Southeast Asia and sold as décor globally. The United States is a major and growing market for this trade: The U.S. has imported hundreds of painted woolly bats over recent years. As this species is not bred in captivity, all the bats are taken from the wild.

Painted woolly bat populations are declining. The International Union for Conservation of Nature assessed the species as “near threatened,” yet few nations within the species’ range offer the bats effective protection from killing. The bats live in China, India, Bangladesh, Cambodia, Indonesia, Lao PDR, Myanmar, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Thailand and Viet Nam.

Given that they only produce one offspring at a time, painted woolly bats are particularly vulnerable to trade. Scientists have been raising concerns about the potential harms of the bat décor trade for nearly a decade, yet the market has only grown. Online listings offering painted woolly bats for sale are plentiful on major ecommerce websites.

This article provides more information about the threats that this species is currently facing and the ongoing efforts to protect it.

Sources & More Info:

Bat Conservation International: Kerivoula picta

Thai National Parks: Painted Bat

Mammal Study: The Ecology and Monogamous System of the Painted Woolly Bat, Kerivoula picta

Ecology and Evolution: Bat Mating Systems

Cambridge University Press: Growing Concern Over Trade in Bat Souvenirs from Southeast Asia

European Journal of Wildlife Research: Dying for Décor

Center for Biological Diversity: Endangered Species Act Protections Sought for Painted Woolly Bats

Center for Biological Diversity: Going to Bat for Painted Woolly Bats

UC Davis: E-Sales of a Wild Bat Sold as Décor Threaten Species

[orgasming-caterpillar]

F1 Drivers As Desi Boys

A.K.A. The F1 grid as Indian guys

Also, I will be writing an entire chatfic about this AU on ao3, so stay tuned ;)

Charles Leclerc — “Charlie”

I think he would be from Mumbai. But like, he lived in the very high-end part of it so it's very hard to know right off the bat.

I just KNOW he studied abroad, okay? Italy or Canada I think. Look at his face— you just know he's the kinda guy people see on the street and think “angrej”

Speaks Hindi with a subtle but insufferable white guy accent. He can't even help it, that's just how he speaks. He once called Max “bhenchod” with the most authentic, desi accent when he was mad and they have all beaches in that high ever since.

Dropped out of university in his last year and came back to India to handle his dad's business after his dad's death.

Fell in love with the hot employee and made him the manager. Everyone knows Carlos got the position by sleeping with the new young hot boss but they stay silent to avoid getting fired.

Now lives in the same complex in Mumbai as Carlos, Max, Lando and others. Lives with his mother, two brothers and a dog.

Leo is a recurring guest in every society event no matter what. Shanta aunty ki kitty party? He's invited. Children playing cricket below? He is the referee. Security guard's dad died? Arthi Leo hi utha raha hai.

Best friends with Pierre. went to the same school as him in his childhood.

Not friendly at ALL with Max.

Carlos Sainz— “Mirchi”

Marathi Mulga for sure

Maula Mere Maula king of guy

His ass should be in a TV serial

Was a regular office worker before he fucked down his boss and now he's the manager. And, well, a win is a win, right?

His parents were kind of homophobic before he became the manager. It's hilarious, actually.

He has such a good voice. If you catch him singing one of the old bollywood songs of Lata Mangeshkar or Muhammad Rafi, consider yourself blessed by the gods.

Knows how to cook since he lives alone

Literally the guy every aunty dreams of marrying their daughter to. Manager of his office. Cooks. Cleans. Respects his elders. Funny. Charming. Every time he and Charles go out at least one middle aged person has asked Carlos if he's married yet and frankly, as his boyfriend who's Right There, Charles is pretty offended.

Have y'all seen the pictures of him in those button up shirts and trousers? The eyes that make Rahat Fateh Ali Khan songs play in your ear every time you look into them? So desi husband material

Best friends with Lando, basically brothers with his they are with each other

Like any best friend, he does NOT like Lando's boyfriend

Max Verstappen— “JATT DON'T CARE 💪🔥💯”

From Haryana

The M in Max stands for Mharo Balam Thanedar Chalawe Gypsy— jkjk

Some say he's aggressive, hot headed, quick tempered; some say he's just Haryanvi.

Is in a psychosexual homoerotic rivalry with Charles and is in denial because of his internalised homophobia.

His dad and Charles’ dad were business partners and now they're always wanting to one up another in the family businesses.

Talking about his father— his dad is very rich and also a typical Haryanvi dad. Bapu sehat ke liye haanikarak type shit.

His father made him do kushti when he was younger and Charles still teases him about it

Will randomly infodump about his father whenever the opportunity presents itself

Married

With how he usually is and what his childhood was like, you'd think he'd be a horrible father but you're WRONG

Everyone loves his daughter Prithvi, or P, for short.

They love spoiling her. Every year on her birthday she gets so many gifts it takes her two days just to open them.

Funnily enough, she once “betrayed” him by saying her favourite was Charlie Uncle.

I just think it would be so funny if he drove a Toyota Fortuner.

Lando Norris— “Lassan 🧄”

From Bangalore

Youtuber. Makes videos for every one of his channels religiously. Has a channel for gaming, another for vlogs, another for shorts and somehow manages them all while uploading reels and posting on Instagram???

He's a university student but nobody knows it because he's always posting videos so they just think he's a full time youtuber

“Shares a room” with Oscar, who is his boyfriend, by the way. You'd never guess. (that is a fucking lie. If you watch even one of his livestreams you'd know that they have explored each other's bodies. He's always “dekho guys Oscar aa gaya 😄😄😄” bro you're not fooling anyone)

Has his own merchandise. His designs are always so cool that they sell out before they're properly out.

Will probably make his own content team when he graduates

He once slipped on the desi toilet while travelling and Carlos made a reel about it. It is one of his most famous reels and Lando will absolutely ignore you if you talk about it.

Kinda fuckboyish???? Like he gives off the vibes of the kinda boy that only texts you past midnight and says shit like “what are you wearing? ;)” Like thank god he has a boyfriend or he would single handedly destroy the faith in love of every girl in a 5 kilometre radius

Oscar Piastri— “gora pakora”

From Goa

Frequently shows up on Lando's videos and livestreams

Studying engineering and living with Lando, basically taking care of him because of course he is

Regular victim of Lando's youtube shenanigans. Gets pranked one too many times every other day.

Has this kind of dead stare where he's just 😐 until Lando comes and annoys (see: kisses or pranks) him

Gets asked “bhai tu kabhi kuch bolta kyu nahi hai” so frequently he should just write “pata nahi yaar” on his face.

Has strong beef with Carlos. Do not talk about that man in front of him. Now this is really inconvenient because Carlos is Lando's bEsT FrIeNd iN tHe WoRlD

There beef started when Lando cried because he missed Oscar and Carlos showed up to Oscar's parents house asking him to square the fuck up. His parents —poor them they don't even know their son is gay— were left to wonder why their son was on a video call with his roommate OUTSIDE in the middle of winter vacation while a strange man cussed him the fuck out.

Lando can and will and DOES make him do silly dance trends with him on Instagram reels

Best friend is Logan, who studies engineering with him. You don't know how much you can depend on someone else until you're an IISER student and they're the only good friend you have.

Daniel Ricciardo— “Paaji”

From Chandigarh

Y'all remember Sodhi from Tarak Mehta Ka Ulta Chashma? Yeah. Him.

No one knows how he's able to control Max. Literally his best friend. Max will always have a resting bitch face but when Danny paaji is there he's all “😆😆😂😂🤣🤣” like bro 😐

I just know he would randomly say “oye balle balle balle balle balle” for no reason other than to annoy people. I just know it.

Actually works very hard and always helps people, but he's such a troll that people just think he's some unemployed youtuber with a prank channel

Absolute party animal. Do not ever in front of him mention that you're free that night.

George Russell— “nazuk kali”

From Delhi

Graphic designer. Edits Lando's videos for nim. Studies computer science.

Shared a room with Alex Albon and Logan Sargeant. Their relationship status is very complex. I'm not saying that they're a throuple, I'm not saying that they're friends. What I'm saying is that they're so dependent on each other I don't think they could function alone anymore. These three idiots make a full functional human being together. George cleans the house, Alex does the cooking and Logan does the laundry and the dishes. They manage, thanks.

George Russell is the type of guy to say “ghar pe maa behen nahi hai kya?” When he sees a girl getting catcalled.

George Russell is the type of guy to say “aapko kahin lagi to nahin?” When he bumps into someone.

George Russell is the type of guy to cover his mouth and say “uff” when he eats something spicy on accident.

On that note, George absolutely cannot handle his spice. Never bit into a raw green chilli willingly in his entire life.

You just know he eats the meethi pani puri with the red chutney and all.

Thinks momos are better than pani puri (he's wrong).

Closes his eyes and covers his ears when a condom ad or a spicy movie scene comes on the TV

Very pale because he rarely leaves his room (which— he's a computer science major, come on)

Lewis Hamilton— “dac saab”

From Kozhikode (Kerala)

Fashion influencer, gets brand deals all the time. Always promoting this brand or that.

Also actually a veterinary doctor with his own dog clinic.

Has a youtube channel where heostly makes affordable fashion tips etc but also posts the dogs at his clinic from time to time.

Spent a lot of years in South Delhi where he fell in love with a guy when he was a teenager but when he eventually moved back to Kozhikode they fell out of contact. Now he’s moved to Mumbai as he opened up a new clinic there and doesn't even know that he actually lives in the same goddamn building as the guy he fell in love with 20 years ago back in South Delhi.

I think y'all can already guess who the guy was, but if you can't (shame on you) it's Nico Rosberg.

Had a wife but she cheated so they divorced or something idk how do you justify a 40 year old guy being unmarried in India?

Loves his dogs more than anything, if there's a dog at his clinic that he can't save he will be sad for days.

Speaks Hindi in a voice that's like three octaves lower than his usual voice. Thinks he sounds bad but he sounds so damn hot.

Nico Rosberg— “thi ek.”

From South Delhi

News anchor for sure. Has a sadness in his eyes that makes you wonder if he ever got over the heartbreak he had at 19 (he did not)

Most people think his hair is dyed (it is not) because he's a chapri (he might be)

Legends say that the only time he has been seen with a smile on his face on TV was when he was talking about his childhood best friend.

The reason he doesn't anchor for any of the big or daresay political news channels is because they don't like how he compares international disputes to the fight he had with his best friend when he was 19.

Regularly travels to other metropolitan cities for news coverings (mainly sports) but lives in Mumbai for majority of the time.

In fact, lives in the same building as Lewis. The fact that they haven't run into each other in the elevator yet is a miracle (or a curse).

Will talk about love and heartbreak to anyone who would listen. You know those boys who say “thi ek” whenever someone tries to talk to them about love? Yeah that's him.

Married and has two daughters that he loves very much.

No pets because they remind him too much of Lewis.

Sebastian Vettel— “Chacha”

From Delhi

Lives in Mumbai with his wife.

Best friends with Lewis, knows everything about him and Nico.

Kind of a father figure to Charles.

The beloved colony uncle that always has the wildest stories ever. Catch him at the tea stall and just get him talking— you will be a changed man when he is done.

“Aur phir uska accident ho gaya aur usne apna haath kho diya, to uski manghetar ki family ne unse rishta tudwa liya. Jiske baad uski manghetar ki sagai mujhse hui aur phir hamari shaadi hui or shayad aaj bhi wo akela hi ek haath se apna hila raha hai bechara”

“...”

You would think considering how sweet he is, he was always this sweet but NO, this man was a MENACE.

Everyone who knew him before he got married wants him dead even now after all the years.

Fernando Alonso— "Kaka"

From Jaipur

The exact opposite of Sebastian.

The old man you see on the side of the road with paan in his mouth and a gaali on his lips

Also tells you stories from his youth and they're just as interesting but he's so arrogant about it that you're no longer interested in listening five minutes in no matter how interesting the story is

The kind of old man who sees children playing in the streets and starts acting like an overly invested referee for no reason.

Goes to the park in the morning at the same time as Sebastian but unlike him, Fernando does not let the joy and whimsy of life have any effect on him making you wonder why he's there at all

Lance Stroll— “vegan wali diet almond wala ghee 😌💅”

From South Bombay

Ameer baap ki bigri aulad

“What do you mean I can't buy the whole store?”

Y'all remember that “Mawn, terew paaw ki jewtie maawwww” girl??? Yeah

Sonam Kapoor is jealous of how much better he is at being a nepo baby

Logan Sargeant— “ye bhi thik hai”

Lives with George and Alex

From Goa

Thank god he does because he would not be surviving otherwise

Might have feelings for his roommates but all he knows how to do is wash the dishes and the clothes and he doesn't wanna die of hunger so he's silent.

Except maybe in front of Oscar but that's his best friendddd

Studying computer science too

Alex Albon— “dhokla4lifer”

From Gujarat

I might be projecting a bit but as someone who fucking LOVES dhokla, I don't see any reason as to why Alex should not.

Cooks for his two roommates, and always cooks so good.

Dhokla on Sundays and a tiffin box full of thepla and aam ka aachar whenever one of them is travelling home

Studying history and geography

Yuki Tsunoda— “momo wale bhaiya”

From Dehradun

Do not call him momo wale bhaiya. He can and will kill you.

Actually does love cooking

Has his own restaurant near the university campus

Pierre Gasly— “tantar mantar”

From West Bengal

Tired of everyone's “kaala jaadu” jokes.

Charles’ best friend and confidante.

Gossip girls. They have all the tea on everyone in the uni.

“Bokachoda”

Does sports.

Final year law student

Esteban Ocon— “Pierre's ex (he is NOT)”

From Odisha

Has beef with Pierre.

Will argue about anything from the origin of roshogulla to the state's contribution in the fight for freedom of the country.

Also final year law student

Extras—

Sergio Perez from Bihar

K Mag from Kashmir (haha get it? Because he's a track terroris—)

Nico Hulkenburg from Kashmir too

Valtteri Bottas from The Andaman Nicobar islands or something idk he shows so much ass it's unreal

Zhou Guanyu from Meghalaya

[demelzathemer]

My Heart Is a Haunted House

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘗𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 + 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘛

@dbdpromptober Day 1: Mirrors (words: 904)

The ring gleamed gold in the hazy light from the window, twirling and twirling between Charles’ fingers.

It had belonged to his Nani, back in India. The old lady Charles had heard stories from his Maa, but never met. Maa told him Nani would’ve loved him and wanted him to have the ring. To give it to his sweetheart, when he found her.

They’d rediscovered the ring while packing. Carefully stoved away in a tiny box covered in rich blue velvet. Maa put it into Charles’ hands, placing her own on top, squeezing firmly. She never showed it to Dad.

The Payne mansion.

Their new house was called that. What an uplifting thought, to move into a house with ‘pain’ in the name. But Dad had gotten it dirt cheap, so that’s what they did.

The house itself was bigger than Charles knew what to do with. It had enough rooms for half a dozen families, all with tall ceilings and faded wallpapers. It echoed, too. The railing on the spiral staircase in the foyer was dusty when Charles tried to slide down on it.

Abandoned, that's what it was. No one had lived in it for decades. The last family member to occupy the massive space gave up sometimes after 1920. After that, no one claimed the house. The locals said it was haunted and refused to even look at it.

It was some kind of sick joke from the universe that the Rowlands were the first ones to actually want to buy the house. Charles wondered if Dad wanted to punish him for something by dragging him away from everything he knew as his life.

He’d had friends in London, albeit not many who would miss him. He had concerts he would listen to outside of the venue, midnight movie viewings he would sneak into. The city was vibrant and full of people.

A small town in North East Somerset was anything but. It had weathered cobblestone streets, mist-veiled rolling hills and the black silhouette of the church’s belfry, looming over a gloomy forest.

Charles had seen it all after a week. Now he was back in the room he’d chosen as his bedroom, watching how the scuffed up ring could still give off a golden hue when the light hit it.

Maa was out shopping and Dad at work, so it was just Charles alone in the house. He was just about to get up and play some of his tapes to banish the silence when someone read his thoughts.

A note of music, then another. The sound was faint and tentative, and Charles wouldn’t have even picked it up if it hadn’t been so deadly quiet. He froze, straining his ears.

Somewhere from the house, a few more notes were played, like they were trying it out, still deciding on the song. Charles rose from his bed. He moved slowly towards the door, focusing on not making a sound. He grabbed his cricket bat on his way out, in case there was an intruder.

Breath trapped in his throat, he inched his way down the hallway, where the upstairs landing flared down to the stairs.

It was a melody he’d never heard before. Haunting, yet beautiful.

The chandelier had been replaced by electric lights but the old piano was still left in the foyer, a pretty sight to those entering the home but entirely rotted.

Yet somebody was definitely playing it. The music swelled in the grand space, caressing the walls, reverberating in Charles’ chest. He could feel his heart’s insistent beating and he gripped his cricket bat tighter.

He inched closer to the railing to look down.

No one was sitting on the duet bench.

Charles descended the stairs one by one, pulled along by the yearning melody. His arms lowered down to his sides, his grip loosening. It really was a sad song.

He got to the foot of the stairs, mesmerized by the sound. It was like he was breathing in tune with it, taking it in with all of his being. It soothed something inside of him, an ache he hadn’t been aware of.

Charles wished he could listen to it forever.

He took a step towards the piano, his loafer hitting against the cold marble floor.

A harsh sound of slamming keys stopped the song abruptly, ringing in Charles’ ears. The silence that followed was even more poignant than earlier.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Charles breathed, feeling like he’d done something wrong. “I like your song.”

Nothing. He crouched to put his cricket bat down and walked slowly towards the piano.

“I didn’t mean to give you a startle, mate,” he murmured to no one in particular.

It didn’t even cross his mind that the music could’ve been played from a recorder as a prank. The air in the foyer was heavy, and Charles had a distinct feeling that he wasn’t alone. He sat down on the duet bench, facing away from the piano.

“It was aces. I can’t play like that. Or, at all, really,” he chuckled.

When he looked up, he was as alone as he’d been the whole time. A cracked studio mirror covering the wall opposite of the piano showed only him in the room.

“Well, if you’d like to play again, I’d be happy to listen.” He grinned broadly at his own reflection. “Or maybe I’ve just gone a bit loopy.”

Next

[krsnaradhika]

90% of you bhakts can’t even tell how many shlokas there are in Gita. All you know is Modi Modi. Hopefully you’re run off this site

Dunno what sort of people you're surrounding yourself with because my circle of Sanātanīs and I know there are 18 chapters and 700 verses in the Shrīmad Bhagavad Gītā. The sermon was heard by Sanjaya and Shrī Ānjaneya apart from Pārtha Arjuna. The Mahābhārata is also called the Jaya Samhitā and the fifth Veda. 108 Upanishads are best known (although there are only 10 main ones) along with 4 Vedas, namely - Rigveda, Yajurveda, Sāmaveda and Atharvaveda— Rigveda being the primal text. There are several Vedāngas and 18 Purānas. Itihāsas are a different category altogether. There are 8 (or sometimes 7) Chiranjeevis or immortals, 10 main avatars of Shrī Vishnu (apart from Bhagwān Krishna Dwaipāyana Veda Vyāsa, Devī Mohinī and so on). There are 12 Ādityas, 11 Rudras, 8 Vasus and 2 Ashwinī Kumāras which make up to 33 koti of gods. Don't project lmfao. Touch some grass. We proud bhakts do not sit on Instagram 24/7, we sit with books and we possess maryādā which you seem to lack.

And by that logic all of you leftists are like Barkha Dutt who disclosed the locations of Indian soldiers on live tv to terrorists during the 26/11 attack? All of you are like Rahul Gandhi who mocks India on a foreign soil? All of you are like Manmohan Singh who invited the terrorist Yasin Malik and greeted him cordially? Do you support terrorists and bootlick the Congress who did not bat an eye on the agony of Chitpawan Brahmins of Pune and the Hindus of Kashmir? Be for real.

You'd know what a bhakt is if you had met a true bhakt (which you use as a slur/ demeaning term. Very liberal of you by the way. And then we bhakts are the ones who are problematic). Shoo away from my blog.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @cassieuncaged

warnings: none

AN: Happy 82nd birthday Harrison ford! ❤️

I leaned against the doorframe to Indianas classroom. He glanced over at me and smiled before turning back to his students taking a test. I slowly entered the room and leaned against the wall. He shook his head and ducked his head as I blew him a kiss. The bell rang and he tried to talk over the noise as the students walked past his desk, papers spilling over it. I walked over and started to shuffle them together as the last student left the room.

“Midterm?” I asked. Indy nodded. “They seems to be working down to the wire. You don’t go easy on them do you?” Indiana laughed and took the papers from me.

“I’m also not too hard on them. They were given an option of writing an essay for extra credit. That’s what they were working on. Not that any of them really need it.” He shrugged as he shoved the papers into his briefcase.

“so now that that’s done, anything special planned for your birthday professor?” I asked, batting my eyes at him. Indiana rolled his eyes and threw his arm over my shoulders. We walked out of his classroom and down the hall, saying hello to a few students that walked past us.

“I have plans to go out with my wonderful partner tonight. They apparently have something planned and won’t tell me what it is.” He teased. I squeezed his waist and laughed.

“yeah. And there’s a good reason for that. It’s called a surprise for a reason.” I shot back. Indiana laughed before pushing the doors open and heading out onto the grounds. We made our way to his car and headed to my house. “Remember, I’ll meet you at your house at 5 for dinner and then we’ll come back to mine.” I said, leaning in the drivers window. Indiana nodded.

“You keep reminding me.” He said, smiling at me as I ran my hand over his stubble. “I love you.” He whispered, letting me pull him in for a sweet kiss.

“I love you too.” I whispered back, moving to stand on the curb. “I’ll see you soon!” I called as he pulled away. Turning back around, I hurried into my house and smiled as I saw Marcus and sallah decorating the house. “Oh good!” Sallah came over to hug me as he let go of the last balloon. “You’re nearly done!”

“for a second I thought he might come into the house.” Marcus sighed. I laughed.

“nah.” I waved him off. “It’s Indy. He’s gonna be a gentleman through and through.” Marcus rolled his eyes and went to hang some streamers.

“so how are you going to keep this a surprise from him?” Sallah asked. I winked at him and tapped the side of my nose, making sallah laugh.

“you underestimate me sallah.” I said before heading into my room to change. I entered the living room and smiled. “You two knocked it out of the park!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together. Sallah bowed and Marcus blushed.

“guests will be arriving just after you leave. So give or take ten minutes.” Marcus said. “And it’s going to take you about that long to get to his house.”

“thanks for all your help.” I said as I hugged both of them before heading out. It was a quiet walk to indianas house. He kissed me when he opened his door, ushering me over to his car and heading over to the restaurant. “So what do you really want for your birthday Indiana?” I asked as we sat across from each other.

“just a quiet night with you.” He sighed. “With everything going the way it had lately, just being home with you is enough this year.” I smiled sympathetically at him.

“you still getting those calls from the government?” I asked. Indiana shook his head.

“not for the last couple weeks.” He admitted. I nodded and watched as the waiter brought over the check. “I know. I know.” He chuckled, holding his hands up. “I don’t like it but fine. You pay for my birthday dinner.” I nodded with a smirk and put down the money with a big tip. We headed out to the car, Indiana draping his jacket over my shoulders when he noticed me shiver. Indiana kissed my hand as we neared my street.

“I think you’re going to enjoy tonight.” I said. He smiled at me and raised his eyebrows.

“really?” He asked. I nodded. Indiana looped my arm through his as we neared my door. I opened it and tried to bite back my smile as I turned on the lights.

“surprise!” Everyone yelled as they popped out of their hiding places. Indianas eyes went wide before he looked over at me with a smile.

“happy birthday baby.” I said, leaning over to kiss his cheek before pushing into the waiting crowd.

[tigergirltail]

TIGER HRT CHAPTER 1 - MONTH MINUS 6 - THE CONSULTATION

The specialest of special thanks to @ayviedoesthings for creating the original Dragon HRT story, and a big shoutout as well to @kaylasartwork, @welldrawnfish, @nyxisart, and @deadeyedfae for their takes on the concept! Every one of you is inspirational, and your work gives me so much second-hand gender euphoria!

NEXT

---

"Miss Alexis, please come in."

I look around as I walk inside. Between the doctor being a balding middle-aged man and the office looking like any generic doctor's office, I'm honestly a little disappointed. I was hoping the infamous source of therian HRT would be a little more… I don't know. Exotic? Unique? I was half expecting the walls to have before and after photographs of clients, but I suppose when it comes down to it, this is a serious medical facility, not a beauty salon. I walk up to the desk and sit down in the chair.

"Now I understand you wish to be a… a tiger?"

I'm unable to suppress my euphoria at the idea, and I start grinning and nodding. "A white tiger! I haven't changed my fursona since I got one, it's about time I start embodying it!"

"Indeed… And I see on your medical history that you are transgender." He mutters under his breath, "Just like all the others…"

I give a little smirk. 'All the others' are the reason I'm here. If this guy is handing out meds that can turn people into dragons or fish or bats, then a tiger should be easy, right? It's a mammal, and not much bigger than a human, relatively speaking. I had even given some thought to the rumoured "Fifteen Minute Shortcut", but when it comes down to it, even if I did have the ungodly pain tolerance to withstand such a rapid transformation of my bone structure and musculature, I… don't really want to do it quickly. Mundane HRT has already been such an absolute gift in terms of euphoria from noticing the slow and gradual changes, I want to keep that up. I want to notice the little things.

"Now I'm afraid there are some requirements to be settled first…"

Oh boy. Here comes the bureaucratic bullshit. Everything that's been put in place to make sure Our Children don't Make A Terrible Mistake. When it comes down to it, bodily autonomy only counts when you're not one of the weirdos. The instant you decide to be capital-d Different, people start falling over themselves trying to talk you out of it.

"First of all, I see that you have been taking human hormone therapy for a little over six months. We do require a full year of human treatment before beginning therian treatments, and I'm afraid that is fully non-negotiable. There are matters of biology that require the body to be a certain degree of… receptive."

I was afraid of this, but at least it's not a deal-killer. Another half-year is bearable, even if I am going to be shaking with anticipation the entire time.

"I also see you have letters from a practicing physician and a social worker, but we do require a second psychologist to be involved in the process."

Okay. Absolute horseshit, but not impossible. All I've got to do is find another social worker or psychologist. And pay them for several months of sessions. And hope they don't decide I'm crazy for wanting to throw away my humanity. I can feel my expression souring…

"It's also required to live as your desired species for at least a year before beginning the process."

"What." I'm leaning forward and glaring at the doctor before I fully realize it. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that, without the… the requisite biology, or the inborn instincts, or the… the habitat!" I let out a frustrated growl. "Am I supposed to fly off to India or Bangladesh or somewhere, and start camping out in the wilderness??"

"Miss Alexis, please, I'm afraid these are… are the requirements set forth by the guidelines of -"

"Guidelines!" I slam a palm down on the desk between us, before letting out a frustrated breath. "Just that… Guidelines. You know, and I know, that a lot of people have come to you already, with a lot more… exotic requests. Flying animals? Aquatic animals? A fucking DRAGON??"

The doctor seems taken aback, maybe he didn't expect this level of resistance.

"What is even the natural habitat of a dragon anyway? Or the diet? Or the behaviours in the wild?? It's a mythical creature for gods' sakes, there's no firm evidence they even existed!!" I stare at him, unblinkingly, with what I dearly hope is a predatory glare. "But I do get it, though. You have to be absolutely sure I won't regret it. Liability, or whatever. …Maybe we just need to know how hard I can BITE."

Something changes in his expression. ...Malice? No, not quite. A sort of… satisfaction, maybe.

It was a test. He wanted to know whether I'd just roll over and accept the impossibility of my quest, or whether I was prepared to fight for it.

Joke's on him, just getting human HRT was such a godsdamned hassle, I already know how to fight.

He adjusts his glasses. "Perhaps there is something I can do for you… Let me get you some forms."

[cassiana-on-dark-side]

"This is an excerpt from my memoir, "Love and Truth”.

Roger Waters

This is a true story of My love for two animals Both wild in their own way Which I read to the audience at a Live performance of DSOTM REDUX At the London Palladium On the day after October 7th 2023. Yes, The Campaign Against Anti-Semitism Were outside the Theater that day trying to cancel me. Free Palestine! From the River to the Sea! ✊🏻🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

So Chocolate Charlie Brown was my third brown Burmese cat. This is a drawing of him and his friend Lilly, an Abyssinian, above the skirting board on the wall of my youngest son Jack’s room in the early nineties. This story isn’t about Chocolate Charlie Brown, well, just this first little bit is, but the rest is about a Duck called Donald. First though a brief history of Chocolate Charley Brown, I got him through Keith Butt, the vet in Knightsbridge where I used to take pets to be euthanized on Sunday mornings if they were beyond repair. Like Cloudy for instance, my daughter India’s pet gerbil, she was beyond repair, cancer, (Cloudy that is, not India), poor little scrap. So into the Merc we jumped one Sunday morning after breakfast, Cloudy and I, well Cloudy didn’t exactly jump in, if truth be told, I had to help her in, in her little cage, just the two of us, the condemned Cloudy and me, and a cardboard box for later. Bloody hell, I’m getting a bit weepy. Off to Keith Butt, Mr Butt was already cognizant of Cloudy’s condition, so, look the other way, is it over? The trick before bringing the deceased home was to make her look comfy in her little cardboard box, arranged curled up resting in eternal peace with a garland of forget me nots. After lunch, down the garden, spade in hand, a not very heavy cardboard box, a little girl’s hand, held tightly in mine. Job done.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, Chocolate Charley Brown. The day he arrived he was a wee brown scrap and scared shitless, so I took him upstairs to the bedroom for a settle in. He ran straight under the bed and wouldn’t come out, so I took off my cowboy boots and got into bed in my jeans and dangled enticing things like feathers on bits of string in front of the dark places under the bed. Sure enough after about half an hour the hunting gene emerged and so did CCB’s little paw. I enticed him out into the open and then scooped him up and stuffed him under the covers next to my big warm leg. I was wearing a brown leather belt to hold my jeans up. I’ve still got it, it’s got a silver tip that always flops down. I was sitting up in the bed reading when I saw a tiny paw reach out and bat at the dangling silver bit on the end of my belt. We said hello, and we were inseparable after that. What a magnificent animal CCB was, beloved by all. Well obviously not all, all. He was not beloved by rodents or birds or Brian the gamekeeper from Kimbridge Farms next door. I saw CCB limping one day, favouring his off hind. I couldn’t find anything amiss, nothing broken, but, just to be sure I took him to the local vet for an X-Ray. Bugger me! Three #5 shot gun pellets in his rear end. I went to see Brian.

“Er Brian?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Happy Christmas Brian, there’s a hundred quid.”

“Thank you very much Sir!”

“You’re very welcome…….. Brian, If that big old brown cat of mine is still alive next Christmas there’ll be another hundred, and so on until he dies of natural causes.”

“I hear you Mr Waters, can I ask you a favour?”

“Anything Brian”

“Could you put a fluorescent collar on ‘im sir? Make my job a lot easier, that would.”

Anyway, one summer I hear the cat flap bang, and in comes CCB with, as usual, something dead in his mouth. He flops down in front of the AGA Stove, (half central heating, half cooking, much beloved in posh country kitchens) panting.

“What you got there Charlie?”

“Oh nothing much, just a newly hatched duckling, I’ve already eaten all it’s siblings and I’m a bit full. I’m just gonna rest here for a minute and then eat this‘un later and then I might go for a kip in the laundry room.”

“Jesus Christ Charlie, let’s have a look, oh for fuck’s sake it’s still wet.”

“Cats will be cats son”

“Jesus! Come on little‘un it’s the bin for you. Fuck me it’s still breathing, Jesus! Charley!”

“Oi! where are you going, I was looking forward that.”

So I put the wet scrap of baby bird, bits of shell and all, out of reach of the magnificent beast and went in search of a shoe box. Got one. Screwdriver for holes. Dap, dap, dap, dap, dap, dap, dap, dap, dap, dap. That’s enough, it’ll never live anyway. Where to put it? I know, guest bathroom on the radiator.

Next morning drinking coffee. Halfway through second cup….! The shoebox! I better go and clear up the remains. So, I run up the stairs and go into the guest bathroom.

“Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi”

Fuck me! Open the lid. Oh my god it’s a fluffy brown golf ball with a little yellow face and a line of mascara through its eye!

“Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi “

“Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi”

“Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi?”

“Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi?”

“Tsi Tsi Tsi”

“Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi”

Translation; Mallard to English.

“Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy,

I’m hungry, I’m hungry, I’m hungry, I’m hungry, I’m hungry,

Where have you been?

Where have you been?

I was frightened,

Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy.”

It was Donald.

“Fuck me! ……….. What do they eat?”

“What about milk ?”

“Milk! Don’t be stupid, when did you ever see a duck with tits?”

Ducklings should be fed a diet of mealworms and plant matter at an early age, though grasses tend to make baby ducks bloat. Wild ducks tend to stick to whatever bugs they find, and they will eat food that is fed to them by park visitors or guests. Bread has been long regarded as a bad thing to feed wild birds.

“Oi, no bread!”

I probably went out to try and catch bugs on the river that runs through the garden. Duh! Have you ever tried to catch a bug? Exactly! It probably didn’t take me long to read up on it.(Roger all through your life you’ll be faced with many challenges, my advice is to read, read, read, read. Thanks Mum.) Dried mealy worms mixed with crushed barley or oats, and water of course. Donald stayed in the guest bathroom for the first week or so, except of course at my bath time when he came into the master bathroom for bath time with me.

What bliss, my own duck to play with in the bath. Donald loved bath time, swimming about and then coming up onto Mummy’s chest for a snuggle and a bit of chin peck preen time, then back into the warm water.

What has always intrigued me is how can something that small produce that volume of duck shit? I mean, the guest bathroom floor was knee deep after a couple of weeks. I know you think I’m exaggerating; you’re thinking.

“How could it possibly be knee deep?”

“Ah, well that’s because you’re thinking Mummy knee deep, I’m talking Donald knee deep, which as you can see from the photo is only about half an inch.”

Anyway Donald grew and grew, I taught him to swim in the bath, even thought of buying him a plastic duck to play with……..no I didn’t!

The guest bathroom started to pong a bit, and it was a warm summer, so I decided to build Donald a run in the garden. We had a very small stream, only about a foot wide, that ran from a parallel carrier stream across the lawn under some cherry trees to the main river. Perfect.

I got some chicken wire and built an enclosure which spanned the stream. Running water, fox proof, enough bank for a snooze, in sight of the chairs on the logia, heaven. The long summer days of, what? 1993? Passed. Donald grew and grew, never losing his attachment to me, his Mummy. We used to go for walks together down the garden, never too close to the main river, I was always afraid of him falling in. Stupid I know. I was living at the time with Pricilla, my Jack’s mum, and we were in the habit of sitting on the logia at the cocktail hour with a very large vodka and cranberry juice each. I know, I know, but in those days we didn’t know any better. Anyway, Donald would always come and sit with us and preen a bit and quack-le quietly until bedtime. I’m not sure how many months passed before one day I looked at Donald and I thought, fuck me shouldn’t his head be starting to turn green? Christ almighty! Donald’s a girl! Well, too late to change his/her name now. Thank god, (NTTIAG) as far as we know, ducks don’t have pronoun issues.

One day, as September approached, I was looking at Donald over the rim of my vodka glass thinking, that duck looks almost full grown, when another thought occurred to me………………………..?

“Christ she can’t fly.”

So I called her over and picked her up and held her between my thumb and the four fingers of my right hand, half way between her lovely neck and her beautiful webbed feet, like a fat feathered paper dart, and pointing her slightly up, launched her forward. She didn’t even flap her wings, just nosedived into the turf at my feet, looked over her shoulder at me disapprovingly and waddled off to lick her wounded pride.

“Jesus Mummy! Why’d you do that?”

It was a conundrum, how to teach Donald to fly, until one day walking down the edge of one of the paddocks on my way to give Mossy Fern (Retired racehorse) some polos, I was going too fast for Donald who broke into a stumbling waddle-y run and then instinctively put out her wings and flapped and flew for about five yards before crashing. Eureka! We started to practice every day and before long if I broke into a run she would fly beside me at shoulder height,

“Look at me Mummy I’m flying!”

She didn’t fly away. Until one day she did.

“Where’s Donald?”

“I don’t know I haven’t seen her.”

I’m a bit weepy writing this………I mean it was great that she’d gone off with her friends to the barley stubble or wherever they went, but……………well it left a big hole.

Then a couple of days later, a few ducks landed by the bridge, below the top pool, near the house, when we were sitting in front of the logia with our Vodkas and cranberry juice, and one of them swam over, calmly climbed the steps out of the river, walked across the lawn and sat down next to us.

“Hello Donald.”

“Quack, quack,”

She did that several more times that September, until finally she didn’t.

I confess, though it pains me to admit it, before 1993, I would occasionally take the odd barley fed mallard off the river in September, delicious.

That was thirty years ago.

I never did it again."

via substack © by Roger Waters

[blueshistorysims]

February 1939, London, England

Unlike any of the other bar mitzvahs or bat mitzvahs Simon-Elliot had attended in the past, his was a quiet affair. He hadn’t wanted a big party and since it was held in London, none of his schoolmates could come anyway. 

Uncle Albert and Aunt Odette couldn’t make the trip since two of his cousins had gotten the mumps, which he was upset by because he liked hanging out with his cousin Marie-Louise, but he was also glad his parents hadn’t invited anyone other than family and family friends living in England. No one could see them arguing.

“I understand you’re upset, Byron, but today is one of the most important days in Simon-Elliot’s life, so can we please leave the politics at the door?”

“Our existence in this fucking continent is political. Franco is going to take Spain, and no one here cares, our idiotic prime minister is only now realizing that Appeasement is not a good tactic after countless people including myself told him, and now it is only a matter of time before the world erupts into war, with Japan and China in the east and Mussolini and Hitler here. I was a fool to think we could prevent another war. Another bloody fucking war.”

Eleora sighed. “Byron. Just for today. Please.”

Simon-Elliot frowned, turning away from his parents.

“Have you ever been to a bar mitzvah?” He asked Lydia, the only person around his age who was actually at the event.

“No. I’m from Hong Kong. Your family are the first Jews I’ve met.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you’re here. None of my friends from home could come or family from India and France.”

“Aunt Francesca asked if I wanted to come, and I will take every opportunity to get away from my brother. He’s so annoying.”

“I can relate. Amalia is so insufferable sometimes. Miranda is fine by herself, but when they’re together… it’s like they become stupider.”

She laughed.

When Aunt Francesca had told him she was bringing Lydia, he almost thanked her. Ever since they had met, he’d harbored a massive crush on her, which had only grown worse since he’d turned thirteen. He was aware that she definitely was not someone a duke’s son should court, but both of his father’s marriages had been extremely unconventional. If she returned his feelings, would his parents mind? Or better yet, would hers?

beginning/previous/next

[katanadepapel]

REMEMBER???

GUYS, another passion of mine that played a big part in my life is the cartoon "Mao Mao: heroes with pure heart."

Analyzing this masterpiece by Parker Simmons, I noticed that his enormous passion for Japanese culture, and he did not fail to include numerous references from Japanese folklore(even more than the traditional ones TMNT 2012)

Furthermore, I noticed animal species and I would love to show you what I researched about the name and meaning of some of the animal species present in this magnificent cartoon (PART 1):

•MAO MAO MAO

(yes, that's his full name 😆)

Let's start with the protagonist, and my favorite character, Mao Mao.

They might look at him and say "he's just a black cat with green eyes", but for those who didn't know, analyzing his physical characteristics, I saw he is a Bombay Cat.

Also known as the Bombay cat, he is a cat of American origin, this species is like a mini panther (very apparent in some cases throughout the series where he makes panther roars), Its name was chosen to honor India, the region of the black panther.

But even so, he is super cute, and he doesn't really like being alone, he is playful and mischievous, very extroverted, and even purrs, not at all treacherous (looks a little like him). Its bad reputation could probably also be a reference to the size of the animal in real life, as it is very small, and to its superstition, originated in the Middle Ages, when it was believed that felines, due to their nocturnal habits, had a part with the devil, and if the cat was black, usually associated with the darkness, even worse for him.

So his father Shin Mao is also of this species

Since they are both small cats.

"Shin Mao, I hate you.....😤"

•Badgerclops:

*my mind 🤯*

When I saw the real species of this character... it had never made so much sense before:

Introducing, the Meles anakuma (or Japanese Badger), he is a species of omnivores, and is endemic to Japan.

It's not his case but, in Japanese folklore, the badger has cultural significance, often portrayed as a shape-shifting creature with mystical qualities. These folktales and cultural insights had influenced

•Adorabat:

I suspected the cutest little thing, Adorabat, was a vampire bat due to its nose

ADORABAT'S NOSE / VAMPIRE BAT'S NOSE

But this bat's diet is only the blood of cows and sheep, so it doesn't work, and I found the closest species to the species of this cute little girl

This species of bat is insectivorous, just like she, also called Free-tailed bat.

It has pointy ears and is very small, they live in resting places near water and mainly in caves, but they also find refuge in mines, bridges and even tunnels and abandoned buildings.

[aria-diary]

The vernal hanging parakeet is a bird of the Psittacidae family. Lives in India. They got their name because they rest and sleep hanging on tree branches upside down, like bats. When an enemy approaches and the perching branch trembles, the parrots' toes open and they fall down, opening their wings in flight and successfully hiding from their pursuer. They climb trees well and run well on branches. They inhabit dry jungles. They feed on fruits, seeds, buds and flowers.🐦