#Water Disc Filters

[dfshoutec]

DFShou filters

The shell is made of high-quality composite plastic, which is pressure-resistant, impact-resistant, and durable.

The filter core is available in stainless steel screen and disc to suit different needs. Easy to install and operate.

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

Could we…. Expound on Shikamaru’s sexual prowess maybe??? I’m tryna see something….. for research, of course.

For research.

this took forever cause i hyped shikamaru's sexual prowess up so much, im sorry for the wait - anyway, thank you for the request, i hope this helps your research

Joint Reverie

Pairing: Shikamaru x f!Reader

Summary: Our lovely reader has been Shikamaru's fwb for a while now, and is waiting for him to return to Konoha from a diplomatic mission. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

W/c: 5.5k

Warnings: Weed (it's a Shikamaru fic, y'all), INTENSE SMUT, pussy eating, cock sucking, nipple playing, slut-calling (real brief, and not in a degrading way), cum-tasting, and penetration - also a lack of protection

Notes: not a part 2 per say, but can very much work as a follow up to this fic... anyway, how do we feel about this one, horndogs? is it up to par? also, Sasuke is the competition dealer, though he isn't in town much.

Masterlist💿

The speakers were such a worthwhile hassle, after you spend your day tangling them all around your tiny, little apartment. Two in the bedroom alcove and four around the living area - they set you back a couple thousand yen, but you couldn't have been happier.

As you placed them, you traced the wires back to the soundboard that your old man had given you. He owned the most popular pub in Konoha, Kintaro Izakaya, and had done the technical sound work at the establishment for years. He was more than happy to give you an old mixer board, and two old speakers to boot - but you really needed new speakers, speakers of your own.

When all was done, you plugged your record player into the soundboard and then plugged them both into the wall, flicking the on switch on your soundboard. Kneeling, you pulled the crate which held only your favourite records from under the table while the board came to life.

What do I want to listen to most?

You shook your head at yourself as you thumbed through the assorted albums. Colours flashed, titles whizzed by - the captured faces of yester-year stared back at you, begging you to chose them.

So, when you got to the beautiful, young faces of Roger Waters and David Gilmour (that's right, I said it, they're yum), you could help but choose The Piper at the Gates of Dawn.

You slipped the vinyl from its sheath and popped the lid of your record player open with your little finger. Carefully, you slotted the black disc around the anchor in the middle and closed the lid, placing the empty album on top of the glass.

With two gentle fingers, you tapped the play button, and the needle arm picked up. You got behind the soundboard, turning the gain dial by a hair, the lights flashing as the needle contacted the vinyl.

You turned the gain dial two clicks more as the radio chatter began to come through. You raised all the equalizer slides to the middle of their tracks, then pushed the rumble and high end further. The beeping began, a bit tinny, so you raised the low-end dial just above the low and high mid sliders, before pulling the mid range down by a hair.

The sounds surrounded you, standing near the middle of your apartment. They wrapped around you, and, as Roger Waters began to sing, you could feel a tear in your eye.

Fuck, you loved improving your apartment, even with such a trifle. It was your happy place, honestly and truly.

Feeling quite content with your work, you sat on your plush, grey couch. The springs whined beneath you as you reached under the coffee table to procure your rolling tray. Such a big day, with so many emotions, surely called for a joint.

Pulling one of your pink papers from the packet, you took a deep breath. The instrumental had begun, and the notes were still hitting your ear exactly how you wanted them to. You tore off a corner of the packet and began to roll a filter, in a desperate attempt to keep your mind quiet.

Alas, you were never so much as a thought away from the ache between your legs, and the only man who could cure it - even after so much sweat, even while rolling up a new distraction.

How were you going to last two more fucking days without him?

The diplomat always had to go so far away, and for such long swaths of time, but this was the longest he'd been gone since the two of you... had come to understand your relationship differently. 

The past two weeks and change had been fucking torture.

He made your toys so wildly unsatisfying, and you didn't want to go out, whoring... well, maybe a little, but whoever you found probably wouldn't satisfy you either. Sure, you could've gone out to find another person to invade the sanctum of your body- see, no, you couldn't. Other people were so... not Shikamaru. They wouldn't make you see the whole night sky from behind your eyelids, not like he did.

To make matters worse, you were already running low on your reserve weed, which you had to purchase off Sasuke, of all people, the last time he was in town. It was Ino who recommended him, and you trusted your good friend's good word. Plus, your dealer was way the fuck out of town, and you were a fiend - no shame in that.

Folding the paper over your tray, you dumped whatever was left in your grinder down. Skillfully as always, you slotted the filter into one end, and began to roll the flakes down. Eventually, you folded the paper in and made a nice, little cone.

Sasuke's product wasn't too shabby either, like Ino promised. It was properly sticky, and almost had a crystalized sort-of look. It was good weed, but it was a far cry from that purple weed of Shikamaru's.

You filled the tip with fallen weed from your tray, and then screwed it shut before putting the filter in your mouth. With a heavy sigh, you scoured the table for your lighter and realized Lucifer Sam had begun to play while you were so preoccupied, thinking about Shikamaru.

That prick can't leave me alone, even in his absence, you thought with a smile as you picked up a white lighter. Does he think about me half this much? Does it piss him off as badly?

Definitely not, but if so - the next answer would have to be, yeah, totally.

You two were simply friends who seshed alone, who shared chocolates, who occasionally fucked and stole kisses. Nothing more, nothing less.

Dragging your perfect joint, you settled into the couch, pulling an ashtray close on the coffee table. You were too in your head. You had to relax, to gather yourself, and remind yourself-

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Man, fuck, you just sat down.

Throwing the small amount of comfort, you had built-up out the window, you got up from the couch, puffing your joint quickly, and drew to the door, not bothering to look through the peephole. Mr. Irizawa kept your building nice and safe - it was probably just one of your neighbours coming to ask you for a cup of sugar, or something like that.

Except, as you pulled open the door, you realized it was nothing like that.

Before you could even smile, Shikamaru threw something onto your couch and cupped your face with both of his hands. He pulled the two of you together in a swift motion and his lips were pressed to yours, hungry and hot, demanding and desiring.

He broke away for only a split second to groan, "Fuck, I missed you."

You smiled as he kissed you again, pushing you back into your apartment and letting the door shut behind him. With a matching force, you kissed Shikamaru back, and he audibly chuckled to himself, letting his right hand drop to your waist. He pulled away, but pressed about five small kisses to your lips as he did so.

Body alight, you beamed, "I missed you too. I thought you still had-"

"Nah, took care of it, darling" Shikamaru responded lowly with a shrug, clearly in the mood for other things.

Ugh, and so were you. Finally.

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other, smiling like dopes. Shikamaru's warm hand remained on your face, as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your cheek. You took in his sage green sweatpants, and his loose, black long-sleeve, and the way his ponytail seemed to droop a little. It seemed Shikamaru had the presence of mind to shower before he saw you - something you wouldn't have done if you had to go away for so fucking long.

Part of you would have liked a little bit of notice, so you could have showered, or taken out the trash, or something like that - but most of you didn't care and knew he wouldn't either.

Carelessly, you brought the joint to your lips, and Shikamaru's eyes flicked to it immediately, making him lean away from you slightly as he asked, "How could you possibly still have weed left?"

"I had to get some," you gasped, trying to keep the smoke in your lungs.

With a smirk, Shikamaru traced your soft cheek with the back of his index finger, before stealing the joint away from you. He hummed, "Good for you, sneaking into the Nara Compound - I was only joking when I suggested that I didn't think you'd actually do it."

Ooh, shit. You'd negated to specify where you had gotten your weed, honestly forgetting that Shikamaru had ever told you to dip into his stash when you ran out. That really was a crazy suggestion, one that you truly wouldn't take up.

Shikamaru, of course, realized that as soon as he took a long drag from your joint. His eyebrows furrowed immediately, looking at the pink joint in his fingers like it tasted of bleach as he exhaled.

"Where the fuck did you get this?" He asked slowly, drawing the filter back to his lips to take three, short, consecutive puffs. Shikamaru's dark eyes snapped to yours, betrayed. "I'm not mad - but I need to know who sold this to you."

"Sasuke," you answered immediately.

Shaking his head at a painfully slow rate, Shikamaru put the joint back to his lips as he looked at the ground. He took another drag and pulled the joint from his lips like it burned him. With a scoff, Shikamaru lamented, "It's fucking gas."

"Awe, are you jealous, baby boy?" You teased, stealing the joint back from Shikamaru, who looked at you with a certain spark in his eye. You clicked your tongue and pinched his cheek with your free hand. "Well, it's blinding you to taste - your weed is so much better."

"Fuck off, you're saying that to make me feel better," he chuckled as he watched you take a lasting drag from the joint. You pulled it away, passing it back to him. Shikamaru took it hesitantly and sighed, "At least I know you rolled this yourself; no one can roll one quite as tight as my doctor, eh?"

"I don't fuck around, man," you exhaled, creating a thick cloud around the two of you as Shikamaru's grip on your waist tightened. "Seriously. You've got the best product in Konoha, it's a known fact."

A beat of silence passed between the two of you as Shikamaru dragged the joint deeply. He held it then puffed up the smoke randomly. After another drag, he asked, "So, why'd you waste your money then?" He exhaled, "Huh? I know that bastard overcharged you, and I can't even stand the thought of you, seshing with him-"

"Sasuke doesn't smoke - he's a good dealer like that," you teased, trying to soothe Shikamaru's annoyance over.

Didn't work. Shikamaru's eyes snapped to yours, that spark catching to a flame behind them.

You shook your head and sighed, "Look, man; I wouldn't have gone to Sasuke, if I knew it'd bother you so much... I didn't think you were the possessive type."

"Go to Sasuke for anything else, darling?"

"No," you said pointedly. "And what about you, playboy? Did you get any strange while jaunting around the Cloud?"

Shikamaru's expression went from interrogatory, to relieved, to amused, within the span of ten seconds. He laughed deeply, "No, I didn't get any strange."

"Good, I don't need you to make me go get tests," you snipped, stealing the neglected joint form his fingers.

Hooking it into your mouth, you shimmied out of Shikamaru's arm and padded over to your soundboard while he took off his shoes. You turned down the gain, then pushed the rumble up again.

"Quite the set up you've got going on here," Shikamaru hummed behind you as you looked over the lights and buttons in front of you. You smiled, puffing away as you watched the mixer lights jump with each strum, each bang, each lyric. "Wanna give me a lesson, finally? If you don't, it's fine, just know, your buttons are begging me to push them."

He really wasn't kidding, as you had to smack away his hand almost immediately. "Woah, Nelly - paws off," you giggled, angling yourself toward him. You tapped the mono/stereo button lightly, and said, "This one does the least damage, but don't be rough with my buttons."

"Then give me something to be rough with," he suggested.

"Charmer," you hummed, as Shikamaru's presence came over your shoulder. You pressed your ass against him, already feeling his mouth-watering length hardening against you. Your eyes remained solidly on your soundboard as you played with the high-end slider. Pulling the joint from your lip, you mumbled, "You have me already, don't you?"

Indeed, he did. Wrapped right around his lithe fingers.

Shikamaru's warm hands found purchase on the curves of your hip and waist, on either side, moving up and down as his long fingers mapped the expanse of your figure. Warm, minty breath washed over your exposed collarbone, Shikamaru leaning down to kiss and nip at the tender skin playfully. You yelped, twitching against him, just like he wanted.

"As I live and breathe..." His words were so quiet, you almost missed them amongst the sounds of the Pink Floyd; but you could feel the very vibration of his tone against your clavicle. Louder, Shikamaru purred, "I was withering away without you."

Rubbing your ass against his length again, you leaned into Shikamaru as his arms wrapped around your torso. His forearms were so thick, the muscles strained against the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. The scent of his piney soap filled your nose, getting you higher than any strain ever could. Shikamaru's hands glided across your body, pulling you flush to him, squeezes and caresses in their wake.

In a swift movement, Shikamaru stole the joint from your fingers and put it in his mouth as he spun you around against the table, hand remaining on your hip. He puffed the joint greedily, as he told you between drags, "There is less than a reason for you to keep smoking this shit - you've got a fresh ounce now."

"Works for me, sweetheart," you hummed in response, looking over to the package he had thrown on your couch. You leaned up to press soft kisses to his neck as you whispered, "You know you and yours make me feel the best."

As Shikamaru chuckled lowly, you could feel the thrum against your lips, as your hands clutched his broad shoulders. With that edge in his voice that drove you mad, he asked, "Me and my what, darling?"

"Y'know, you and your everything," you responded with a laugh of your own.

"I want you to use your words, pretty girl," he insisted, pulling you away from him.

Eyes sparkling playfully, and his signature lazy smile on his lips, Shikamaru looked absolutely perfect. He was so fucking handsome, all the time, but in this moment- cripes. 

"Fuck, and I wanna tear your clothes off."

Shikamaru laughed lowly, ashing the roach in the ashtray on your table, "Then, tell me, what of mine makes you feel the best?"

Before you could come up with some witty remark, Shikamaru's gaze returned to you, a new kind of flame kindling in his eye. One that spoke of a lust that existed in the depth of his soul, one that commanded you to comply, with the promise of great reward.

"Do you want a list?" Your eyes darted to Shikamaru's lips as he nodded playfully, hooking his other arm around you now. You hummed, "Well, off the cuff, you've got the best weed - and the best dick-game, ever." Shikamaru cocked his eyebrow, so you continued, "Seriously, no one's ever made me cum... just the people in this room."

Shikamaru laughed loudly, moving back with you in his arms, pulling you along to the alcove where your bed sat. "Keep going. I like it when you sing my praises."

"Look at you; big, strong Shikamaru, soon-to-be Head of the Nara clan, demanding to be praised," you teased as Shikamaru collapsed onto your bed, pulling you on top of him as his cheeks reddened.

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Shikamaru shrugged, "Exactly. Don't you think I deserve a kind word?"

"I think you deserve everything and a bag of chips, sweet boy," you giggled, pulling yourself to straddle Shikamaru's lap. Your clothed heat rubbed against the bulge in his sweatpants, giving both of you a delicious bout of friction, and making Shikamaru's dick twitch in the process. With a content lilt, you sighed, "You're so impressive, Shikamaru. In every capacity; mental, physical, business-wise."

"Think Sasuke's impressive?" He asked with a crooked smirk, trying to disguise the curiosity in his tone as humour.

"Eh, sure, kinda - nothing like you though, no one impresses me like you do." Your tone was so soft, as you continued, "Not in any way - you're so smart, and handsome, and so extremely well-endowed." Grinding your hips down, you leaned down to press another string of kisses to his neck. In a small voice, you said between kisses, "I only think about you, sweetheart... only you."

Grasping your hips with a true grip, Shikamaru began grinding you against his erection with vigour. You could feel the veins through all the layers of cotton that separated you, and a small gasp fell from your lip as his shaft pressed right against your clit.

"Only me, huh?" He asked as his fingers got lost beneath your shirt. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Fucking you, if I can help it," you answered instantly, sitting up on his lap.

You pressed your hands against his chest but applied a generous pressure to your seat as you continued to move your hips in small circles. Shikamaru chuckled warmly, still playing with the hem of your shirt. He looked up at you with a smile, his eyes crinkling into halfmoons as he did.

"Then, how about this for a schedule?" Shikamaru sat up a little as he spoke, grasping the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. He threw the fabric across the room, warm hands coming to your suddenly cold back, Shikamaru smiled up at you as he said, "We go out to a nice dinner, take a walk, then we fuck?"

Oh, fuck yes! Tonight is the motherfucking night! 

You kept your cool. You smirked, leaning down a bit to catch his head between your tits. Shikamaru kept his eyes on your face, awaiting your answer, as his fingers drew strange shapes on your back.

"How about..." You hummed, pushing him back onto the bed. Shikamaru fell back, confidence faltering slightly as his hands slid to your thighs. With a bright smile, you leaned over him a little and proposed, "We fuck, then dine, fuck again, then walk, then fuck a third time?"

"You're the fucking jackpot."

His words were so mumbled and strung together that you could hardly make them out, but you didn't really care. Shikamaru's smile was back, and he pulled you down for another kiss.

With zeal, his hands moved up your thighs, onto your hips and up your bare torso. Shikamaru cupped one of your tits, immediately catching your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, while one remained around your back. Suddenly, he flipped you both, so that you were lying on the bed.

Hovering above you for just a second, Shikamaru tore his shirt off and threw it to a corner of the alcove before leaning back down to kiss you. He pinched your nipple, making you gasp, which allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth quickly. You hummed into his mouth, just so fucking content with how everything turned out - for once.

Moving down, Shikamaru trailed kisses down your jaw, then peppered your neck with little suckles and bites. You whimpered and twitched, only inciting Shikamaru to continue nipping down to your chest.

"Please, sweetheart, stop teasing me," you mewled as his lips captured your right nipple. Shikamaru's tongue swirled for a moment, before his teeth grazed the sensitive skin. You gasped, scratching his shoulder a little with one hand, "Please, please, please."

"Nuh uh, never," he chortled, popping his mouth off your right tit, only to move to the left. 

One of his hands continued to play with your suddenly chilled nipple, as he tongued your left areola wildly. His fingers pinched, while his mouth massaged - he palmed your right tit and sucked the left, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes.

Your hips bucked up, seeking the previous friction, and you clenched around nothing. Rubbing your thighs together didn't provide any solace, because Shikamaru noticed almost immediately and put his leg between yours. 

Moving your hands down, you scratched at his back, trying to pull him up even a little. It didn't work, and Shikamaru moved further down your body as a show.

"Patience is a virtue, darling," he reminded you with a gentle timbre, pressing kiss after kiss to your stomach and abdomen. "Besides, you know I like it when you get all desperate for me."

"Man, fuck you," you whined, your body jerking unconsciously as Shikamaru's hands came to your waistband. "I'm not desperate... I've just been needing you so bad, Shikamaru."

His fingers dipped below the waistband of your sweatpants as he hummed, "I dunno, I'm not convinced."

"You're so mean to me, you know that?" You shuttered as his fingers danced just beneath your waistband. "I'd get on my hands and knees to beg you, and you'd still make me do a dance."

"Well, you are the best dancer," he chuckled.

Your retort was cut off before it could begin as Shikamaru finally tugged at your pants. You were quick to pop your hips up so he could peel them off, and you tried to pull him back to you again. But Shikamaru planted his feet firmly to the ground and lowered himself to the edge of the bed, pulling you forward.

"Hey, I didn't shower-" You tried to warn him, sitting up.

Shikamaru pushed you back down easily and put your legs over his shoulders. Immediately, he said, "Hey, I don't care."

"Mean," you mumbled.

Without any build-up, Shikamaru leaned forward and licked a fat stripe up your pussy. You gasped, while he groaned, "Delicious."

Shikamaru pressed a myriad kisses to your inner thigh then - kisses, so sloppy, you weren't entirely sure he wasn't licking your thigh. But you didn't care, because his soft lips just felt so good against the tingling skin. The glorious sounds from your new speakers fell on deaf ears, as the fog of pleasure clouded your mind entirely.

Then, with another stripe, Shikamaru dove into your pussy. His tongue glided through your folds a few times, then right up the center to swirl around your sensitive clit. You could have screamed as he sucked gently against the bundle of nerves, until he released it to tongue your entrance again.

His name fell from your lips like a chant as your hands scratched at your own stomach, not wanting to fuck up his ponytail. Without wasting a second, Shikamaru reached back and pulled the elastic from his hair, letting it fall around his face like a curtain. You pulled his hair back, not wanting to miss a second of Shikamaru's face between your thighs.

A smile was evident on his lips as you tugged a little, and Shikamaru's tongue drifted up again to tease your clit. His fingers suddenly met your folds, now feeling cold in comparison to the fire that coursed through you. They dipped in, separating your folds in the slick of arousal and spit, only teasing your clenched entrance.

One finger pushed in, curling to stretch you out and hit that spot that only Shikamaru seemed to be able to hit. You cried out lewdly, invigorating Shikamaru as he began to pump his finger into you while he still abused your clit with his tongue. He added another finger, flicking them both against your gummy walls and bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you could feel a rhythmic clench building, you chased the light of your orgasm. You looked at Shikamaru with lidded eyes as he devoured your pussy, sloshing sounds abundant in the room.

Then, he stopped.

"I knew you would do that!" You cried out, feeling the light fade from your grasp. Letting goes of his hair as he stood, you grimaced while Shikamaru smiled so very wickedly.

"Y'wanna cum on my face, or my cock?" He asked rhetorically.

You rolled your eyes, but Shikamaru was looking for you to use your words. He palmed himself over the green cotton, not giving you what you wanted until you stated it with your chest.

You groaned, "Your cock... please."

"That's my girl," Shikamaru grinned as he bunched the fabric of his waistband into either hand. 

Pleased and praised, you couldn't suppress the smile that took over your features. You shimmied up on the bed to give Shikamaru some room. He tugged off his trousers, massive cock smacking just beneath his navel once free.

Shikamaru's cock was a sight to behold, thick and perfectly veined. Your mouth-watered at the mere sight of it, the ache between your legs intensifying.

Taking the base of his cock into his hand, Shikamaru pumped a single languid stroke up his length. Precum gathered at his tip, making his slit glisten in your apartment light. Immediately, you sprung forward, repositioning yourself entirely to be at mouth-level with his cock.

"What's up, Buttercup?" He asked, stroking his dick again.

The precum accumulated so that a true drop formed. Before it could drip, you stuck out your tongue and caught it. Your tongue glided up Shikamaru's frenulum, then around his tip once, before you closed your lips around his head, sucking gently.

Knees buckling slightly, Shikamaru's hand came to the side of your head as he choked out, "You're not- hah- desperate for me, huh?"

You replaced your hand for the one Shikamaru had wrapped around his base, as you took more of his cock in your mouth. Pumping what could never fit down your throat, you bobbed your head, almost like you were nodding. You looked up at Shikamaru to gauge a reaction, and he was smiling down at you broadly, looking so relaxed.

"You're such a slut for me, aren't you, darling?" He asked, pushing his hips forward a tad. This time, you really did nod as you sucked up the length of his cock. Shikamaru tugged on your hair a little, and chuckled, "You're my perfect woman. All mine, aren't you?"

As you hummed against his cock, Shikamaru groaned lowly. His hips began to move on this own, pushing his cock against the back of your throat more harshly. You didn't mind - Shikamaru was always very considerate about his size.

"Fuck, darling, your mouth is so soft." Despite how lost in the moment he sounded, Shikamaru pulled out of your mouth with a shutter. 

You continued to stroke him as he drew onto the bed, and until he pushed you back against the pillows. Shikamaru slid between your legs and lowered himself to you immediately, capturing your lips with his again.

On his tongue, you could taste your bitterness, and you groaned, feeling how wet his chin and nose still were. Shikamaru's cock fell between your folds, and he pushed his hips up, grinding against your bare pussy with his twitching dick. You whimpered, broken pleas falling from your mouth between kisses.

Finally, as if he couldn't take it anymore, Shikamaru sat up. He lined his tip up with your tight hole and locked his eyes with yours as he slowly pushed in, grabbing your waist for leverage. You threw your head back when his tip was sucked in with a squelching sound.

"Holy fuck!" You yelled, feeling like you were getting split apart. Your hands flew to his thighs, scratching and squeezing as you throbbed around him.

Continuing to push in, Shikamaru groaned, "I know, darling, I'm sorry."

"Don't- ah! - be sorry," you cried, feeling like he was almost in. You could feel a pressure on your lower stomach as he neared your cervix. Shikamaru finally bottomed out, and stilled, giving you a second. You didn't want the second, immediately begging, "Fuck me! Fuck me, Shikamaru! Please!"

A string of curses fell from Shikamaru's lips as his grip on your waist tightened. He pulled back a little and then slammed his hips back into you, watching to see if you'd take back your words.

You didn't, only whimpering at the feeling.

That was enough for Shikamaru to take your command for what it was. He pulled back again, this time almost to his head, then thrusted into you deeply. You moaned salaciously as he picked up a very passionate pace, hitting that sweet spot every single time.

A very moist pap, pap, pap sound began to fill the room, your slick already dripping from you and pooling beneath you. Soft grunts and groans fell him Shikamaru's lips, adding to the symphony already at work. Your grip on his thighs tightened, and the crescent-moons of your nails dug into his bulging muscle.

You bounced against the bed, being pushed and pulled by his hands, and reacting to the slamming of his hips. Shikamaru's left hand came to your tit, squeezing the tissue roughly as he plowed into you. A near pornographic sound came from you as he started to tease your nipple again, which only made him that much more zealous.

"Your pussy is fucking amazing," he groaned, pulling at the sensitive bud lightly. Still, it sent shocks through your body, making you feel so warm and tingly. "Fuck, you're so fucking wet for me."

"Only you," you managed to choke out between moans and groans. "Only you, Shika-aaa-maru. Only you."

"You're fucking right, only me." Shikamaru's pace picked up and he leaned over you, putting the hand that was attached to your waist beside your head. Your hands sprung to his back, scratching lightly, a slight pain lingering. He continued to tease your nipple as he asked, "Can anyone else make you feel this good?" You shook your head, a scream bubbling in your throat at the quickened pace. Shikamaru thrust into you firmly, and stayed bottomed out, reminding you, "With words, pretty girl."

"Fuck, no! No, no one! Just you, only you," you gasped.

That was the right answer, because Shikamaru started moving again. Clutching the rippling muscles of his back, you bit onto his shoulder as he continued to pound you mercilessly. His name was the only thing on your mind, so you barely even heard the 'I love you' as it slipped from your vocal cords.

Muffled as it was, Shikamaru heard you.

He kissed you again but slowed his pace considerably. His tongue slipped into your mouth, inviting yours to dance so gently, as his hips met yours in quite the juxtaposition. 

Deeply, you hummed against his lips, and Shikamaru swallowed up every moan that came from you. Slowly, but surely, his pace quickened again, in even more frenzied thrusts. The rhythm was much stronger but started to get unruly.

Pulling up and away from you swiftly, the hand that was playing with your nipple slid down your abdomen, tickling you slightly. Shikamaru's fingers found your clit, rubbing small circles in time with his thrusts.

"Just like that," you purred, pleasure overtaking all your senses. "Fuck- yes- I'm so close."

Heeding you, Shikamaru changed nothing about his pace or position. You were right on the edge, and he was bringing you closer, and closer, and closer-

"Fuck, I love you," he groaned as you came, squeezing around his cock. 

Your heart jumped to your throat, but the fog of your orgasm quelled your worries in an instant. You spasmed wildly around him, milking his cock and, to his credit, Shikamaru continued without so much as a stutter, not taking his fingers off your clit until you had ridden out your entire high.

Then the true sensitivity set in.

"Ah! Fuck! Shikamaru, oh my stars, holy fuck!" You cried out, starting to squirm. 

Taking his fingers from your clit, Shikamaru gripped the other side of your waist and pummeled into your pussy a few more times before he slid out quickly. He took his cock in his hand and pumped it twice before pearly cum began to paint your stomach and tits.

He groaned as the ropes shot onto you, dick twitching with every release. You smiled broadly, swiping a finger through the pool atop your belly button. The pearlescent coating dripped down your finger as you brought it to your mouth. Shikamaru's eyelids fluttered closed as he watched you take the finger into your mouth and sigh with the taste.

"Fuck, were you in the Land of Fruit, because- stars, you're yummy," you chuckled, swiping up a much larger glob of Shikamaru's spend. 

"Oh, shush, you jester," he chortled as he got off your bed.

Shikamaru drew to the bathroom a step away while you took a breath and appreciated the sweet-bitterness of his cum. The music had gone quiet long ago, the record needing to be flipped to the B-side. Shikamaru came out a second later, holding a roll of toilet paper as you continued to suck on your fingers.

"I don't jest - you should've cum on my face." When Shikamaru extended a folded-up portion of toilet paper, you scrunched up your nose and took up another portion to drink up. "What? I'm busy," you said. Shikamaru just rolled his eyes, still smiling as he leaned forward to clean you off, himself. You sighed, "Man, that's mine, what are you doing?"

"Gods above, you're nasty," he laughed, throwing a cum-soaked wad of paper away and tearing off another few squares to clean himself off.

"Nasty for you," you grinned. "Eh, loverboy? Can't be upset with that, can you?"

"You are so in love with me," he bit back.

You nodded, smiling broadly as you threw open your arms. "Yeah, and so are you. Stop being a prick and cuddle me."

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: starfish

This week's Wet Beast Wednesday is going to be stellar, as we're reaching for the stars and talking about starfish. Also known as sea stars and asteroids, these echinoderms are a classic in tidepools and touch tanks, so much so that many people don't think much about them. If that's you, you're missing a lot, since there's plenty of interesting things to learn about our radially symmetrical brethren.

(Image: a common starfish (Asterias rubens) resting on sand, seen from above. It is a star-shaped animal with five distinct rays connecting at the base. Its body is orangeish, with small white slumps all over its surface. End ID)

Starfish are echinoderms of the class Asteroidea and when I called them our brethren, I wasn't entirely kidding. Echinoderms are duterostomes, the clade of bilaterally symmetrical animals whose anus forms before the mouth while in embryo. Chordates, which include humans, are also duterostomes. This means you are more closely related to starfish than you are to arthropods, molluscs, or various worms. As with the other echinoderms, starfish are radially symmetrical as adults, but bilaterally symmetrical as larvae, indicating that they evolved from bilaterally symmetrical ancestors. Starfish should not be confused with brittle stars and basket stars (which you can read about here), though they do have the same common ancestor.

I know what you're thinking and shame on you. (Image: the granulated starfish (Choriaster granulatus). It has short rays with rounded heads that have vertical slits on the tips. Its body is a reddish-orange with hard markings, but the tips of the rays are a more pale color. End ID)

Starfish consist of a central disc with appendages called arms or rays extending from it. The term ray is often preferred because they are not actually limbs. They are flexible, though, and are used in locomotion and object manipulation. Most species have five rays, but some can have more. The number of rays is usually a multiple of five (and can reach up to 50 in Labidiaster annulatus), but species with other numbers of rays do exist. The underside of the rays are lined with rows of tube feet. These hollow tubes can be filled with water to extend out of the body and are maneuvered with a complex system of muscles. Each tube foot can be individually controlled and a starfish can have hundreds of them. Tube feet are used for locomotion and object manipulation. While the ends are often suction-cup shaped, they attach to objects using chemical adhesives rather than suction. Tube feet are used to drag the starfish forward and they typically will have one ray that points in the direction they are moving, possibly a remnant of their bilaterally symmetrical ancestors having a front end. Starfish typically move fairly slowly, with about 15 cm (6 in) a minute being a typical top speed. There are exceptions, though, with Luidia foliolata being able to reach almost 3 m (9 ft) per minute. Tube feet are also filled with sensory cells to help the starfish examine its environment. The flexible arms also help starfish flip themselves over if they end up upside down.

(Image: a starfish of the order Brisingida. It is orange and has numerous very long and flexible arms that are held up in the water column. The arms are covered with elongated spiny protrusions used to filter feed. End ID)

The central disc contains the mouth at the center that is opened and closed with a sphincter. The moth leads into a short esophagus which leads to a stomach divided into two segments: the larger cardiac stomach and smaller pyloric stomach. In primitive starfish, food is swallowed hole and passed to the cardiac stomach, where digestion begins, then passed to the pyloric stomach where digestion finishes. In most species, however, the cardiac stomach has been adapted to be ejected out through the mouth to engulf prey and begin digesting it outside of the body, passing broken-down food into the internal pyloric stomach. This allows starfish to consume prey considerably larger than they are. Starfish famously can consume bivalves by using their arms and tube feet to pry the shellfish open and eject their stomachs into the shell. Not all starfish are carnivores. Many will feed partially or totally on algae and detritus and some have adapted to be filter feeders that use their rays to catch plankton and carry it to their mouths. Some species use modified pedicellariae to capture small fish and crustaceans. Pedicellariae are pincer-like structures found on the skin of some species of starfish that have a number of uses, including aiding in feeding and removing objects and small animals from the starfish.

(Image: a close-up of the underside of a starfish. On the bottom of each ray is a channel filled with tube feet, which appear as small, reddish tubes with sucker-shaped endings. The channels meet in the middle where the mouth is visible as a small hole. End ID)

Internally, the starfish is supported by an endoskeleton made of honeycomb-like calcite structures called ossicles. Most ossicles fit together to form a protective yet flexible shell on the top of the starfish. Ossicles are often the only parts of a starfish that fossilize, leaving starfish with a sparse fossil record. Beneath the ossicles are the digestive system (which extends into the arms) as well as the nervous system and water vascular system. The nervous system consists of a nerve ring that surrounds the mouth and branches off into radial nerves that run down the rays. A par of nerve nets run under the skin and in the water vascular system. Starfish are known to sense by touch, smell, and chemoreception, and though they do not have eyes, they do have light-sensitive eyespots at the tips of the rays. The water vascular system is used both for circulation and movement. Water is drawn into the body through a modified ossicle called the madreporite and into a series of canals that run through the body. Muscular action can open or close valves leading to the tube arms. This causes the tube arms to either fill with water and extend, or lose water and contract. The water vascular system is also used to dispose of some waste and to circulate oxygen through the body. The circulatory system (consisting of a heart and 3 ring canals) does not circulate oxygen, only nutrients. Starfish hearts beat at an average of 6 times per minute.

(Image: a sunflower star (Pycnopodia helianthoides) on the seafloor. It is a large, reddish-orange starfish with a large central disc and 20 long, slender arms. End ID)

The majority of starfish are dioecious, meaning they have separate males and females, but some species are hermaphroditic, either simultaneous (both male and female gonads at the same time) or sequential (will transition from one sex to another). Paired gonads are located at the base of each arm and release gametes through gonopores on the discs. Some species will engage in behavior where a male will climb on top of the female and overlap her arms, then they will release gametes together to maximize the chance of fertilization. Most fertilized eggs are released into the water, but some will be placed under rocks and some species will brood the eggs using species structures. Brooding species have larger eggs with lots of yolk that skip the larval stage and hatch as small adults. Most species hatch into a planktonic larval stage called the scaphularia, which is equivalent to the blastula stage of vertebrate embryo development. The scaphularia then develops into a bipinnaria, which has bands of cillia on its body used for movement and feeding, as well as stubby rays. The next larval stage is the brachiolaria, which has more developed rays and attaches itself to the substrate through a stalk. Up until now, the larva has been bilaterally symmetrical, but this is where that changes via a radical metamorphosis. The body rearranges itself so that the left side of the brachiolara becomes the bottom of the starfish and the right side becomes the top. The body cavities are rearranged into the circulatory and water vascular system while the gut, mouth, and anus rearrange themselves. The starfish is now a tiny (usually 1 millimeter) radially symmetrical adult that drops off of the stalk.

(Image: a starfish's larval development from an egg through an amorphous, tentacled brachiolara larva, and to a half- developed juvenile starfish that has not yet formed distinct rays. End ID)

Starfish are famous for their regenerative ability. A starfish that loses rays to predators can grow them back in a process that can take over a year. In many species, a starfish split in half can regenerate into two complete starfish. There are different types of regeneration and different species are capable of different types. The most common is unidirectional regeneration, where a starfish needs the majority of its disc to regenerate. If it is cut in half, only the the piece with over half of the disc will regenerate. Rarer is disc-dependent bidirectional regeneration. This allows a severed ray with at least part of the disc attached to regenerate into a full starfish. Part of the central disc is needed to provide access to the digestive system and mouth. The rarest and most extensive form is disc-independent bidirectional regeneration. This allows a severed ray with none of the original disc to regenerate a full starfish. The severed arm must rely on stored nutrients until the digestive tract regenerates, so only very healthy limbs will last long enough to do so.

(Image: a red starfish regenerating. It has three large, normal rays ans three very small rays branching off of the disc. End ID)

Regeneration occurs in three stages. The first is the repair stage, where the initial wound is healed and the body prepares to the generation of new tissues. This stage is where the starfish is at its most vulnerable to infection or succumbing to the injury. Next is the early regenerative phase, where undifferentiated cells and body structures move toward the regenerating surface. Finally is the advanced regenerative phase, where massive cell replication and differentiation occurs. During this phase, the new ray will grow as a miniature version of the originals and will gradually enlarge until reaching the adult size. This is a vastly oversimplified explanation of regeneration because most of it is cell biology that goes way over my head. Severed rays regrowing a body are sometimes called comets due to having one ray significantly larger than the others. Some species of starfish will deliberately drop a ray if threatened by a predator. This is called autotomy and relies on the predator favoring the easy meal of the dropped body part over continuing to attack the main body.

(image: a comet starfish attached to a glass tank wall, seen from below. It looks like a normal starfish, but with one disproportionately large ray. End ID

Starfish can use their regenerative powers for asexual reproduction. Certain species will engage in fission, splitting themselves apart so both parts will regrow into a full starfish. Some will split off a large section of disc while others can drop a single ray to regenerate. Fission seems to have evolved independently in multiple lineages and presents differently in different species. Some species will only do it as young, while others will do it their entire life. Some species will rarely do it, while others will drop limbs throughout their lives. In at least once species, only males will split themselves. Females of the species Nepanthia belcheri can split into two males. Asexual reproduction usually occurs in adults, but some species can reproduce as larvae in good conditions, either through fission or budding off clones.

(Image: a chocolate chip starfish (Protoreaster nodosus) on sand. It is a five-rayed, white starfish with multiple prominent black spines surrounded by red skin on its top end. End ID)

Starfish are found in every ocean and from the intertidal zone to the abyssal depths. Because they do not have the ability to regulate their internal salt content, starfish are not found in fresh water and only relatively few of their nearly 2000 species live in brackish water. Being relatively large generalist predators or omnivores generally occupying the middle of the food chain, starfish are often keystone species for their environments. Fun fact: the term keystone species was originally used to describe a starfish. Starfish play a large role in regulating benthic micro- and macro-organism densities while also being a food source for larger animals. Places where starfish have been removed have seen population explosions of bivalves and other prey species that lead to an overall decrease of biodiversity. On the other hand, the crown-of-thorns starfish (Acanthaster planci) has seen multiple population explosions due to loss of their predators and are posing a major threat to coral reefs throughout the Indo-Pacific due to their diet of coral. There are also a few invasive species of starfish. Asterias amurensis is on the list of the world's 100 most invasive species. Echinoderms are sensitive to pollution and some species of starfish are used as a bioindicators of the health of their ecosystems. Starfish are threatened by pollution and habitat loss, but appear to be more resistant to ocean acidification than other species with calcareous skeletons.

(Image: a crown-of-thorns starfish on bleached coral. It is a large, purple starfish with 15 rays covered with spines all over. End ID)

[alphynix]

Trilobozoans (also known as triradialomorphs) are some of the more enigmatic members of the Ediacaran biota. In the past their unique three-way-symmetrical body plan was interpreted as linking them to groups like sponges, cnidarians, or echinoderms, but currently they're considered to be their own weird little phylum with uncertain evolutionary affinities, classified no more specifically than "probably some sort of early eumetazoan animal".

Lobodiscus tribrachialis is a newly-described member of this mysterious lineage. It lived in warm shallow marine waters covering what is now Southwestern China, and with an age of around 546 million years it's currently the youngest known trilobozoan, extending the group's time range by several million years.

About 3.7cm in diameter (~1.5"), it had the characteristic trilobozoan disc-shaped shield-like body, with a central depression surrounded by three triradially-symmetric lobes with branching ridges and grooves.

Its body would have been soft but fairly rigid, and it's not clear if it was capable of moving over the seafloor or if it had a more static lifestyle. Like its relative Tribrachidium it was probably a filter feeder, with the grooves on its surface directing water flow towards the central depression – and this surface ornamentation may also have been covered with cilia that actively caught and transported suspended food particles.

———

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References:

Ivantsov, A. Yu, and M. A. Zakrevskaya. "Trilobozoa, Precambrian tri-radial organisms." Paleontological Journal 55 (2021): 727-741. https://doi.org/10.1134/S0031030121070066

Ivantsov, Andrey, Aleksey Nagovitsyn, and Maria Zakrevskaya. "Traces of locomotion of Ediacaran macroorganisms." Geosciences 9.9 (2019): 395. https://doi.org/10.3390/geosciences9090395

Hall, C. M. S., et al. "The short-lived but successful tri-radial body plan: a view from the Ediacaran of Australia." Australian Journal of Earth Sciences 67.6 (2020): 885-895. https://doi.org/10.1080/08120099.2018.1472666

Rahman, Imran A., et al. "Suspension feeding in the enigmatic Ediacaran organism Tribrachidium demonstrates complexity of Neoproterozoic ecosystems." Science Advances 1.10 (2015): e1500800. https://doi.org/10.1126/sciadv.1500800

Zhao, Mingsheng, et al. "A putative triradial macrofossil from the Ediacaran Jiangchuan Biota." Iscience 27.2 (2024). https://doi.org/10.1016/j.isci.2024.108823

Wikipedia contributors. “Lobodiscus.” Wikipedia, 29 Mar. 2024, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lobodiscus

Wikipedia contributors. “Trilobozoa.” Wikipedia, 10 Mar. 2024, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trilobozoa

[chat-rivary]

Sun waved his hand with a big smile and immediately Moon lifted you up, the cable pulling him up to the balcony where he landed gently, but didn't let go of you, coming to snuggle his nose against you with a long, heavy purr as you returned his hug. Sun soon joined you, entering their room and placing your bag on the desk. Moon gently placed you on the floor before turning to Sun who came to stand on the other side of you grabbing your hand at the same time as Moon. Without exchanging a word the two led you to the balcony holding your hand.

"Could you sit here for a minute and close your eyes please Starlight ?" Sun asked, whispering in your ear.

"Give me a kiss and maybe I will." You reply.

Sun and Moon exchanged a look before leaning in simultaneously placing a kiss on your cheeks each. You let a chuckle escape you before grabbing their face disc, you placed a kiss on Sun's forehead whose rays began to turn before turning to Moon, lifting his cap slightly before placing a kiss on his forehead, watching his face color delicately.

"Now I'm inclined to wait."

"And close your eyes ?" Sun asked.

"And close my eyes." You confirmed.

You sat down on the ledge letting your legs fall to the ground, you looked in the direction of Sun and Moon, grinning at them as well, sticking your tongue out to tease them before finally closing your eyes. You heard their cable come down before hanging on to the back of one of them, you assumed it was Moon as Sun dove straight into the ball pool making you laugh slightly. For several long minutes you heard distant noises resounding without being able to know what it was about, you started to shake your legs, tilting your face backwards while keeping your eyelids closed.

Suddenly the lights that filtered through your eyelids disappeared, before slowly a slight source of light began to show, your curiosity slowly consumed you, pushing you to play with the bells attached to your bracelet. The sound of their acrobatic cable and the sensation of someone next to you told you that Moon had returned and soon after Sun joined you. You heard them stirring in their rooms again before finally they returned, each taking a seat next to you.

"You can open your eyes now Starlight." Sun sighed.

You opened your eyes slowly at first before finally opening them wide in surprise. Hanging from the ceiling a little further down the Daycare was a multitude of small pieces of what you assumed were pieces of mirrors or glass, each piece was different in size and shape, each suspended by what you assumed were very thin wires since you weren't able to see them and that was the only explanation you had for the floating pieces of glass. But you were only able to see all this because of a huge spotlight, which glowed quite dimly, that was just above the largest gathering of the small pieces of glass, illuminating the bits of mirrors and glass that reflected the light. You felt like you were watching the rain at sunset, the water droplets inevitably reflecting the sun as it began to disappear over the horizon.

[blackstargazer]

Prompt: Forget-me-nots | @moonkillermicrofic | WC: 1168 (Don’t look at me)

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Remus had no idea how he had found himself in this situation. Barty Crouch Jr. was currently helping himself to Remus’ whiskey, Remus’ cigarettes, and rifling through Remus’ cd collection.

“This is the digital age, Lupin,” Barty chastised, flicking through the plastic cases—searching for god only knew what.

Sitting in an old, worn chair he had bought used, a glass of warm whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other, matching the thief who made himself at home after their “date”.

Barty was adorn in dark brown shoes, emerald green slacks, and a white button down shirt, blonde hair swooped to the side in an elegant fashion. Remus had been nervous throughout the entire dinner—and no, it had nothing to do with the man across from him smiling broadly, encouraging him to “loosen up”, and everything to do with the fact that a killer could be stalking them.

But in his own home, curtains drawn, Remus took a moment to observe the man.

He couldn’t deny that Barty was attractive, oozing confidence and grace. Remus had been surprised by how easily the fiend had made him forget his objective, regaling him with stories of his youth, his work—painting a very vivid image of his adversary, Rita Skeeter, asking questions about Remus—which he offered freely and without thought that his words might be later used against him in Times New Roman.

“Ahh!” Barty exclaimed finding a gem in the treasure trove of music, “Yes.”

Remus observed as Barty set the glass down on the bookcase, plucking the compact disc from its home, and placing it in the outdated boombox.

“Tell me, Remus, do you dance?” Barty asked, picking his glass back up.

Remus shook his hazy head, smirking in a silent no.

“Well, you’ll have to indulge me, then, because I do.” Barty declared, as he pressed play on the boom box.

The music began with two sharp claps and a jovial, soulful tune and Remus watched with gluttonous eyes as Barty lifted the butterscotch filter to his lips inhaling deeply before breathing smoke through his nostrils. He turned sharply on the balls of his feet to face Remus fully, then lifted his heel, sliding the toe of his shoe across the hardwood floor, and clicked his ankles together as Patrice Rushen played in the background.

Barty pointed to Remus with cigarette clad fingers as he serenaded, “Sending you forget-me-nots, to help you to remember. Baby, please forget me not. I want you to remember.”

Taking another swig of his drink, Remus watched as Barty glided across his floor in a truly sinful way. Toned thighs clenching with every spin, those damn pants, pulling perfectly drawing Remus’ attention once again to Barty’s crotch.

Despite the distance between them, Remus felt warmth creep up his neck and cheeks as his thoughts drifted toward carnal waters.

Something caught Barty’s eye, and though Remus had done his best to hide the wall dedicated to The Butcher, tacking up a black linen sheet to the corners, a fragment of a picture peeked through.

Barty danced over toward the wall, stubbing the ciagrette in the ashtray on the kitchen counter, and tugged at the sheet until it fell into a heap on the floor.

“So this is your little shrine,” Barty whispered as he gawked at the maps, pictures, notes left behind for Remus from the killer.

“It’s not a shrine,” Remus grumbled as he lifted himself from the comfort of his chair, placing the empty glass on the stand and walked toward Barty, discarding his own cigarette.

“Looks like a shrine to me,” Barty teased, “Hey—maybe if you light a candle, he’ll appear.”

Smokey distilled amber grain thrummed through Remus’ veins as he leaned in closer behind Barty mumbling against the space between Barty’s collar and exposed skin, “You’re insufferable.”

Remus wrapped his hands around the thin waist, thumbing at the edges of the brown belt.

“Remus,” Barty sighed, as he leaned in against Remus’ firm chest, “no one is watching.

“You don’t know that,” Remus countered, nipping at the thin flesh below Barty’s ear, “They could be.”

“Your curtains are closed,” Barty pointed out, intertwining his fingers through Remus’, drawing him in despite his words.

“Maybe he has x ray vision,” Remus lamely suggested, marveling at how perfectly Barty slotted against his form.

“Oh, so he’s a super villain now,” Barty chuckled, head tilted back against Remus’ shoulders, his low lidded eyes trained on the gruesome pictures before them.

Remus ran one hand up toward Barty’s throat, turning his date’s head as he whispered against thin mauve lips, “Just let me—“

“I think you’ve had too much to drink.” Barty said, darting his tongue out to lick his lips which barely brushed Remus’ own, “too much merriment.”

Remus pulled back, searching tempting green eyes as he asked, “You’re telling me you don’t want to—“

Barty turned in his arms, wrapping his hands behind Remus’ neck as he faced him head on, “Oh, I do. I really fucking do. But we’ve been drinking.”

Even as Barty denied him with words, he pulled Remus in as he whispered, “Wouldn’t want to take advantage, though.”

Remus scoffed, “As if you could take advantage.”

“Mmm. You’d be surprised at what advantage I have.” Barty said, eyes sparkling with bright amusement.

“Mouse,” Remus accused.

“Wolf,” Barty bit back playfully.

Remus lowered his eyes to his target, as he pleaded, “Just one.”

“I do love it when you beg,” Barty considered before relenting,”Alright—just one. Make it count, inspector.”

Gently, Remus leaned down, planting a closed mouthed kiss against Barty’s lips. He should have been ashamed at how desperately he wanted to part them, to taste the pearly whites and the rough pinks of the inside of Barty’s mouth, but under the violent haze of pleasure that coursed through his body, Remus found he didn’t care.

Deepening the kiss, Barty met him blow for blow as Remus bit his lower lip, Barty sunk his teeth into Remus’ upper lip, gnawing frantically until the inspector tasted his own blood—which surprisingly only spurred Remus on further.

Hands carving into hips, fingers digging into and pulling at hair, their union was violent and just as the pair were finally settling into a wicked pace, a vibration from Barty’s pocket interrupted them.

“Mmm,” Barty hummed as he detached his fangs from Remus’ swollen Cupid’s bow, “That’ll be my escort.”

“Tell her to wait,” Remus practically growled.

“You try telling Officer Evans to wait, see where that lands you.”

Remus chuckled as he took a step back, fixing Barty with an appreciative stare, “Yeah, alright. Sod off.”

Barty pecked his cheek and gathered his things, stopping at the door and turning to face the inspector as he shyly smiled, “Hey Remus?”

“Yeah?” Remus asked, scratching the back of his head, suddenly nervous.

“I had a nice time—even if it was under dubious circumstances.”

A soft smile stretched across Remus’ lips as he admitted, “Yeah. I had a nice time too, Barty.”

[stackofsnakes]

Screw it, here's a Guards! Guards! AU(2300 words)

Thunder rolled.

Then reality rolled.

In a twist that surprised nobody and annoyed many, the Unseen University rolled as well. To the dismay of everyone, it rolled highest. Sparks of thaumaturgic energy crackled where the existing structures of the building folded into other dimensions and something else was now passing through. In the library, an unwieldy shape shot up from its slumber and turned vaguely humanoid. The books were in a frenzy; the barrier between dimensions, especially flimsy in and around large collections of books, had eroded and through the open space came pure, unfiltered information in shape of a pale mist. Information aching for a medium. Even in his own head, the librarian could feel new memories inscribed in places where old ones trying to resist eviction, as concepts like language, space, even math temporarily lost their meaning. The books on the shelf ached as information was violently taken and forced upon them. Through the space that was no space the librarian wandered, struggling to hold onto his sense of self. A memory, belonging to a stranger, barely yet formed, floated past. Then, as sudden as it began, it ended. The foreign information burned away like morning mist on a hot summer morning and reality started to heal. The books on the shelves complained in an inaudible grumble as their bound pages started to reject the alterations like a body a foreign intruder. The librarian sat in the dark, closely examining the memory he caught, or rather the memory of a memory. Somebody, somewhere close, had deliberately punched a hole into reality, a move unwise in the best of conditions, an the worn out space around the university had temporarily given in. This in itself was not too worrisome; the wizards of the university, especially students, did all sorts of courageous and stupid things with the fabric of reality if the day was long and distractions scarce. No, what worried the hominid was that something came through.

Thunder rolled... and cursed at Luck.

The gutters of the city gurgled softly as the detritus of the night was carried along, in some cases protesting feebly. When it came to the recumbent figure of Captain Vimes, the water filtered through his worn out soles like coffee through a filter. He opened his eyes. It took him by pleasant surprise that he was still upright. In a just world(the world was seldom just), he would have woken up with mud running through his breast plate. It wasn't the first time he woke up upright, as a young guard he had spend many a night sleeping on his feet in the freezing cold, but he couldn't remember ever having walked doing it. But then, he couldn't remember much momentarily anyway. He took it another unearned favor of the gods and let his feet carry him down the street. Presently, his soles told him by the shape and pattern on the cobble, he walked along Peach Pie Street.

He raised his bell, a bronze instrument as dented and worn as its owner. “Three o'clock!”, he bellowed while ringing the bronze object with an unwise enthusiasm. “And all is...”, he paused. He couldn't remember what all was, though he was sure it had something to do with people reprimanding him.

He pondered all for a while, stepping through through thick mist. The mist from the the river Ankh was not like ordinary mist, it didn't rise mysteriously from the watery surface, like in more forgiving regions of the disc, instead it dragged itself from the toxic muck, along with some of the more fortunate victims of the night, and fled down the street, lest somebody or something may try to drag it back in. Its consistency was traditionally like fish soup; the opaque kind with unidentifiable bits swimming in it.

Vimes turned another corner; his feet told him now he was walking down short street, the longest in Ankh-Morpork, testament to... something. Vimes wasn't quite sure to what. The mist was now so thick, it started to obscure the rows of houses along the street, putting to question whether there ever had been any. The bits in the soup turned into something more specific, although less corporal. Vimes hardly took notice, which was not considered to be a clever move. His feet, compelled by an outside imperative, independent from the brain, carried him through a white void, now so violently empty, it seemed to tear on the edges of the guardsman's form.

What was all? He pondered, with an increasingly bad feeling in his stomach. He know it was something large, so large it was everywhere, something he should remember, but he couldn't for the life of him. Life... Wasn't there something about life, or... the opposite of it? The end? Sam Vimes stomach moved rapidly in the direction of his knees. Wasn't he on a funeral earlier? Whose was it anyway? Gaskin, said a quiet voice in his mind, but the concept of Herbert Gaskin, long time friend and fellow guard, was already losing its meaning.

Failing to remember reality, Vimes couldn't help but miss how his grasp on it slipped from him, in the most physical sense imaginable. He also didn't notice leaving short street onto a pattern of cobble his feet didn't recognize. Impartial to such vital trivialities, they carried him forward, step by step through empty white that now seemed to pull on his person. Not forward, just pulling.

Step. The concept of cobble lost its meaning. What was all?

Step. The ground retired as it couldn't work without the concept of down. What is all?

Step. Physical space dissolved. What would all be?

“I remember!”, Vimes shouted to no one. “Three o'clock! All is-” Step. One too many.

Everywhere, all across the multiverse, taking one step too many can extinguish your existence. It also often has a side effect of leaving a hole somewhere, usually far further down(at least in places where concepts like “down” exist).

Both applied to Sam Vimes, whose only proof of ever having been a living person was a hole in the exact shape of Captain Samuel “Sam” Vimes, uniform and all. Usually, at least in Ankh-Morpork, such holes appeared on the surface on the the river; it generally took a good day or two until the outline was obscured. This specific hole, however, was unlike most, in that it lacked a physical medium. Reality crackled indignantly along the fray, demanding compensation, or at least some store credit; the pale yonder was happy to provide.

A shape emerged from nowhere in particular, filling the gap its previous occupant left. It didn't quite fit; it was taller than Vimes, and more burly, even accounting for the breast plate, and then there were the side burns... It wandered off toward being.

HM, commented a cloaked bystander in surprise. He retreated. It wasn't safe to linger.

The mist lifted, or rather it transitioned back into normal mist, as normal as it could be in Ankh-Morpork. The outline of buildings was now visible against the a sky that didn't fully belong to the night any longer. The shape moved with drunk determination through the dangerously unfamiliar streets. In the last corner of his mind, untouched the absurd concoction of substances he allegedly consumed in the past hours, reality had no record of those so he was legally in the clear, a voice reminded him that it was late and he'd do well finding a bed. Another voice, less rational, happily marinating in the cocktail it helped create, suggested he'd go with one of the lovely women, lining the dark side streets. Neither voice was in charge at the moment. Shivers ran through the strangers body in electric waves, from the soles of his feet, to the little hairs on his arms in frantic disarray. His spinal chord had hijacked his body, forcing him to continue his psychedelic march through the unfamiliar city. It was recalibrating.

The Bunch of Grapes in Easy street opened its windows, giving the used up smoky air a chance to escape. The bars of Ankh-Morpork never truly closed, at some point they simply shooed out the casual drinkers to make space for the much more lucrative alcoholics. Hosts had a nigh mystical ability to tell them apart; alcoholics made their palms itch, just like large amounts of gold did to dwarfs. The Host of The Bunch of Grapes rubbed his hands in excitement. Down the street, toward the bar, wandered a stranger bearing a face only worn by those determined to replace their body mass with alcohol, and there was plenty to replace. The fact that he was barely able to go in a straight line didn't bother the barman; the look of grim determination on the alcoholics face reassured him. He was tall and burly, his exotic jacket a presumptuous green, his yellow trousers almost offensively wide, and his bearded face bore an expression, that would have earned him a slap from any respectable woman and several of the less respectable ones. The barman was the type to whom these categories mattered a lot; he couldn't be seen with a fine lady in his humble establishment. He had a reputation to uphold.

“What can I bring you?”, he asked the exotic stranger.

“Ngahhh!”, he answered, straining the language center of his brain.

“Certainly, my good man, immediately.” The barman filled a dirty glass(he was especially proud of those, they were almost as dirty as those in the Drum) with a liquid that was certainly meant to be golden, but was a sad yellow instead.

“Nnnnnhhhh!”, the stranger said thankfully, emptying the glass in one swift motion. “Grgh, mwahhh!”, he demanded.

It occurred to the barman that this individual might actually drink himself to death right there at the counter. In a tone of utmost responsibility he asked “Could you pay in advance?”

“Mwh? Mm...”, the man took something out of the pocket and slammed it on the table. The barman picked it up. It was a black piece of paper, with the picture of a women on it. The number “five” was inscribed on the side. I was a few years still until the concept of paper money would be invented, but with the sense all business owner possess he was able to gauge that this must be used as money, wherever this man was from.

“Don't you have any more... local currency?”

The man just shrugged his massive shoulders. The barman sighed. It was to good to be true. He should throw this figure out, he concluded rationally, but something kept him from doing just that. His eyes relayed the image of the stranger to his brain, but in response came words like regular, trustworthy, friend. He sighed again.

“I'll keep you on tab for now.”

The stranger made a bubbling noise.

The sun was rising outside the great city of Ankh-Morpork; it hadn't mustered up the courage to enter yet. The lone guard at the gate yawned unimpressed, as he watched a tall figure approach from the road. He scanned the newcomer, he had a habit of doing so, some even call it his job. He lacked the confident bravado of adventurers, but also the timid excitement of young country hicks trying to make it in the big city. This one showed only a stern innocence that could get a person killed and a body that could get a lot of people killed. He also showed a letter.

“I think I've got to see Lupin Squiggle Sec'y pp,” he said eventually.

“What's the pp for?”, said the guard suspiciously.

“Could it be Pretty Promptly?”, said Carrot who had wondered about this himself.

Both men analyzed the letter carefully for clues for a while. A second name had been written in the text where now was an illegible smudge of ink, as if a drop had hit the paper. Weird, thought Carrot. During his journey he took special care not to damage this letter, his key into the guard. It hadn't even rained.

“What was it you're here for?” asked the guard helpfully.

“I'm here to join the watch!”, the young man said, straightening up as he said it.

“Really?”, the guard said squinting his eyes. “What have you done?”

“I'm sorry?”, Carrot responded with slight worry. Nobody had told him he needed to do anything except report... whoever it was he needed to report to.

“You must've done something.”, the guard said.

“My father wrote a letter.”, Carrot said helpfully. “I've been volunteered.”

“Bloody hellfire!” the guard wasn't sure what that meant but it coudln't spell a good omen, he decided. “In any case, you want to report to the Watch Captain. Captain... uh...” The guard couldn't remember; the inquiry he made to his brain returned empty. Cor damn it, he thought, you know somebody your whole life...

“And where is he based?”, Carrot asked politely.

Ah! the guard thought relieved. That was an easy oneö

“At this time of day I'd try The Bunch of Grapes in Easy Street. You can't miss him; he's the guy with... äh... just ask for the Captain.”, the guard resigned.

As Carrot marched off, the guard grumbled to himself. Unbeknownst to him, it wasn't lethomania he was struggling with, but entroponetic dissonance, a condition that was more physical in nature than neurological. The pressure build against the vulnerable foundation of his mind, forcing a narrative against a brain adamant that its memories were true. Eventually it gave in. It's quite unreasonable to disagree with reality. The guard felt something snap behind his forehead; reality realigned.

“Hey kid!”, he shouted after Carrot, next to whom hardened adventurers looked like unwashed children. “It's Captain Du Bois!”

[j-rpgcrazemonth]

It’s always JRPG somewhere.

I’ve been getting into buying old games and emulating systems. I’m a fifth and six generation console guy, and I have a DVD drive connected to my PC like it’s 2004, so the discs are going to good use. I have a working PS1 and PS2 connected to a 14 inch Trinitron, so I’m able to enjoy them on the original hardware too. On the other hand I’ve become quite fixated on CRT filters, so enjoying emulation as well.

Dipping my toe in the Persona 2 Eternal Punishment waters this week.

I do have the slight issue that if I want to post off-screen photos of emulated games it falls victim to my extremely curved Samsung Odyssey monitor though.

[new-holocene]

Wahoo GC game recommendations:

Ill get the usual games out of the way first:

F-Zero GX, Chibi Robo, Luigi's Mansion, Monkey Ball 1 & 2, Metal Gear Solid: The Twin Snakes, Crazy Taxi, Eternal Darkness, WarioWare mega party games, Sonic Adventure DX & 2, SoulCalibur 2, Residen Evil 4, Metroid Prime, Ikaruga, Pikmin, Time Splitters.

Fantastic games but most people are familiar with them so here's a few odd balls:

Kidou Senshi Gundam: Gundam Vs. Zeta Gundam - Port of the arcade game, JP only (it does have a PS2 port that did make it over)

*Sidenote/not really a recommendation

*Kidou Senshi Gundam: Senshitachi no Kiseki - I uhh... im not sure what to say about this one. Its the only gundam game exclusive to GC. I haven't played enough of it to really say much about it but its always interesting to look through the GC's JP exclusives

R:Racing Evolution - Ridge Racer's simulation racing spinoff, surprisingly fun with a killer soundtrack to boot

(sidenote: highly recommend checking out the extra CD of the soundtrack release, an amazing 30 minute continuous mix of the whole thing)

1080° Avalanche - Fantastic sequel to the original 1080° and my personal favorite snowboarding game next to PSP SSX on Tour

Wave Race: Blue Storm - Underrated sequel to Wave Race 64! the most beautiful water Ive ever seen any game. Really dang fun!!

Star Wars Rogue Squadron 2: Rogue Leader - Really fun air combat deal. takes a sec to get used to and it is a difficult but its fully worth it

THPS/THUG - This id rather suggest on PS2 because that controller feels way more natural for THPS but a little of the gamecube version doesnt hurt. If I recall the home console version do have widescreen too as opposed to the PC ports

Zatch Bell: Mamodo Battle - fun 3D fighter but 8ing/Raizing

Bloody Roar: Primal Fury - Revision of Bloody Roar 3, another 3D fighter by 8ing/Raizing

Resident Evil 2/3 - Resident Evil is a very easy recommendation for GC, with Remake and 4 being on the system but I want to spotlight the ports of Resident Evil 2 and 3 as they are the best versions of each

In the case of 2, fitting both campaigns into one disc and having all the content of later releases

They both have better texture filtering, higher quality FMVs but not much else outside of that

They're alright

Mr.Driller: Drill Land - JP only but doesn't require a lot of knowledge to figure out for the most part. The best Mr.Driller entry! Featuring a fantastic soundtrack, multiple game modes, a simple and silly story mode and just generally having the same gameplay that makes the series a blast to play. It did receive a remaster through Namco's encore line of remasters (like Klonoa and Katamari) with an english release too.

Beyond Good and Evil - not exclusive to GC but incredibly good nonetheless

Capcom Vs. SNK 2 EO - GC groove is the worst thing to ever implemented in a fighting game, its amazing (its a good port of CvS2)

Chaos Field Expanded - Updated port of Chaos Field, might as well have it next to Radirgy :3 (The original mode is neat)

Donkey Konga 1-3 - Very fun rhythm games! pretty much taiko no tatsujin with bongos

Viewtiful Joe 1&2 - Tough learning curve but some of the most satisfying and simple combat in any game ive ever tried. Absolutely fantastic.

XIII - Port of the PC name based on the belgian comic of the same name, been going through this one myself actually. its really fun and youd probably have a better time on PC but its still fun on console!

Auto Modelista - Genuinely hot ass! its really fucking bad! the original JP PS2 version is slightly better but all version of the game suck... but damm it the aesthetics are so damm cool and the soundtrack is killer. its worth checking out for a moment.

Kururin Squash - sequel to Kururin Paradise, a little game with a top down perspective focused on going through courses with a little helicpter (akin to irritating stick), really fun and it being the first entry in the series with full analog control adds a lot to it.

Phantasy Star Online EP 1-3 - Currently chipping away at these myself but I know enough people that love every game in this series to say that its worth a shot

Hudson Selection Vol. 1: Cubic Lode Runner - the budget for this game was 1 dollar but I cant hate it, P fun if not a bit frustrating at times.

Killer7 - yeah.

Virtua Striker 3 Ver.2002 - Sega can make a good sports game alright

Spider-Man 2 & Ultimate Spider-Man - have had these two recommended to me a few times, I can vouch for the former despite its jank. The latter im mainly suggesting because of general good word of mouth

NBA Street V3 - You can play as mario. its so stupid, its great askjdhaskjdas

Star Fox Assault - its REALLY fun, the mix of air combat and third person on land combat is executed really well!

Geist - Geist

F-Zero GX - Ok I know I already said F-Zero GX but thats like. Its one of my favorite racing games ever and I really like it and just typing it out just made me think "man I should really play more GX". Its really good.

Super Robot Wars GC - The gamecube's entry on the long running mecha crossover JRPG series, it has received a complete translation patch. These games are REALLY fucking long but its worth checking out!

Apologies if I made this list too long or you're familiar with most of these titles. I hope it helps in any way

Thank you so much for putting this together! Excited to check these out.

[aut2imagineart]

This was much delayed due to me coming down with Covid. Fortunately I recovered and was able to finish this. This is another land/seascape of Proxima B (a real planet that I'm speculating life on). This features some of the lifeforms that inhabit the coastlines in and out of the water. I've included some organisms that I've depicted in previous pieces but with a clearer view of them. Here's a quick rundown of them.

Lesser Razorback: a medium sized herbivore that favor running blades (the grass-like organisms around it) that grow along the shores.

Sandpiker Wyvern: small wyverns that probe the sand for organisms that burrow in it.

Skimmer Wyvern: Wyverns that soar just above the water to skim for prey using their specialized teeth.

Shoaling fishamander: Small filter feeding fishamanders that form large shoals as anchovies and sardines do on Earth.

Seadics: small predators that can glide temporarily using disc shaped membranes.

Sea Pooka: An otter-like Pooka that dives for shelled invertebrates.

Sea Wyvern: A flightless wyvern species with a lifestyle akin to penguins and auks.

Lesser Seaspinner: A smaller Seaspinner species that inhabits shallow waters along the coasts.

Kelp Seafan: A marine species of fan that is much darker than their terrestrial counterparts to better photosynthesize

Sea scale: mollusk like invertebrates that feed on bacteria that grow on rocks and other surfaces.

Reef Hopper: crab-like relatives of the more insect-like springers that feed on kelp fans and carcasses that fall to the bottom.

I might make a page devoted to fishamander species as there would be much many more than what I've shown.

As always, comments and critiques are welcome.

[dfshoutec]

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[palepinkgoat]

weekly tag game! It's Thursday though, hope that's ok. Thanks for the tag @deedala and @michellemisfit! I love doing these!

which character from any media would you like to have as a father?: Craig T Nelson in the movie The Family Stone. That's such a good movie and he's a great dad. Also he's age appropriate since I am old.

if money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have?: Another dog would be fun. Someday I want another rescue pit mix to keep Alvin company. Only a girl we can name Darla (my daughter's choice)

what is your Chinese takeout order?: ooooh crab rangoon and maybe general tso chicken with fried rice. I haven't had Chinese food in a long time.

what's your favourite emoji?: I'm on the computer and can't do it, but I overuse the hell out of the cry-laugh emoji.

would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house?: a greenhouse would be amazing just to be in, the plants and the filtered light, just so cheerful on a colder day.

what childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly? oh gosh, maybe little house on the prairie? I was obsessed with the books and the show looked 0% like Minnesota and Wisconsin but I still loved it.

what was your tumblr like when you first joined?: I only joined so I could look at shameless stuff. it was 2013. I didn't really know what to do with it for a long time. Then I got super active and then walked away. Now I'm back!

what clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself?: Gosh I feel like I'm too old to pull off any style anymore, but I love the 70s-90s punk aesthetic and cottage core, to go two completely different directions.

if you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best?: Does it have to be a whole other world like not a real place? Because I have no idea.

what is your favourite piece of art?: Christina's World by Andrew Wyeth (pictured above) I also really love Whistler.

do you have a water bottle? what does it look like?: Olive green with stickers but it leaks so I don't take it anywhere, just use at home, but only sometimes.

what fanfic trope is a quiet fave? I'm not quiet about anything in life haha

do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it?: Lightish brown leather crossbody from Madewell that I got from a friend. I love it so much. The weirdest thing is maybe an epi pen. My son is super duper allergic to bees.

If you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be?: Oh god, WHAT? No. But fine. Lip I guess.

what is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did?: maybe a/b/o?

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian?: Ian got so gloriously beefy in S11 but Mickey is ripped and anyway he would never admit he couldn't carry him. He could get a slipped disc or hernia and he'd still try and walk it off.

who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house?: Carl and Debbie fought over it, but Liam took it while no one was looking. @silvanshadow @juliakayyy @francesrose3 and @gallawitchxx join in if you haven't already!

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: manta rays

It's time to spread our wings and fly, or rather swim, into another Wet Beast Wednesday. This week's topic is the wonderfully wide manta ray. These gentle giants have historically been misunderstood as dangerous and scary, but now we know better. Here's the real facts.

(Image: a SCUBA diver swimming alongside a giant manta ray, seen from above. It is a large stingray with pointed, wing-like fins along the side of its body and a large head with short tail. Two fin-like cephalic lobes extend from either side of the mouth. The back of the body is black, body with white marking on the head, just before the tail, and the tips of the wings. End ID)

Manta rays are two species of stingray: the giant manta ray Mobula birostris and reef manta ray Mobula alfredi. Mantas have historically been classified as members of their own genus, Manta, but as of 2017, they have been reclassified as members of the genus Mobula, the devil rays. In addition, the two species were thought to be the same species until 2009. As with other rays, they have flattened, disc-shaped bodies with their pectoral fins being enlarged to take up each side of the body. While bottom-swelling stingrays have rounded pectoral fins, manta ray fins have developed into pointed, wing-like structures that are used for active swimming. The width of the ray (measured from wingtip to wingtip) is about 2.2 times the length (not including the tail) in both species. The tail is shorter than the length of the body and has no stinger. Unlike most ray species, the mouth is located on the front of the body. On either side of the mouth is a fin-like cephalic lobe. These fleshy growths are flexible and are used to aid in feeding and possibly communication. Giant mantas reach a max width of 7 m (23 ft), but the average adult size is 4.5 m (15 ft). Reef mantas reach a maximum width of 5.5 m (18 ft) and an average of 3 m (10 ft). They are the largest and second largest rays in the world.

(Image: a group of reef mantas seen from the front. They are similar to the giant manta, but smaller and the white marking on their baks are more curved. Their mouths are open and the cephalic fins are curved to sit beneath the mouth. Inside the toothless mouth, the inside of the gill slits can be seen. Bits of the white underbelly are visible. End ID)

Manta rays are found in tropical to subtropical waters. Giant manta rays are found worldwide while reef mantas are primarily found in the Indo-Pacific, thought they have been recorded in the Atlantic ocean on a few occasions. Reef mantas are normally found in shallower, coastal waters while giant mantas will swim through the open ocean. They are somewhat social, sometimes swimming in groups of up to 50, but will also live on their own. Feeding is done by swimming with their mouths open and cephalic lobes angled to direct water into the mouth. They are filter feeders, targeting krill, plankton, algae, and oceanic larvae. While feeding, mantas will swim in different ways, including making somersaults. Mantas feeding in groups will perform coordinated swimming maneuvers, including swimming in giant circles. Giant mantas have been observed making dives to 400 m (1,300 ft) and they appear to target larger food at these depths, such as small fish. as with the other Mobula rays, mantas will breach out of the water. The reason they do this isn't clear. It could be to clear parasites, communicate, or for fun.

(Image: a manta in the process of breaching, with only its rear end still in the water. It is pointing straight into the air, leaving its back and the white markings on it clearly visible. End ID)

Manta rays are known as some of the smartest fish in the world. They have the largest brain-to-body size ratio of any fish. Manta rays are among the only fish capable of passing the mirror test for self awareness. The mirror test is used to determine if an animal can recognize its reflection as being itself rather than another member of its species. Manta rays exposed to mirrors showed some unique behavior that is not what they do when encountering other manta rays. This included blowing bubbles and swimming in odd ways that may be used to examine themselves or test if the reflection really is them. Manta rays are also excellent navigators, able to repeatedly find the same feeding sports or cleaner fish stations from thousands of miles away. This would indicate an excellent memory and the ability to develop a mental map of areas. Manta rays also have the ability to remember other individuals and have been shown to have a preference for spending time around specific "friends". They are also believed to engage in play behavior including acrobatic swimming with each other and maybe jumping. Playing for no purpose other than fun is a rare traits usually seen in intelligent and social species. Divers have reported that mantas are curious and will come investigate them.

(GIF: footage of a manta ray undergoing the mirror test. It is swimming up to the mirror, pausing for a second, then swimming parallel to the mirror, with the stomach facing it. End ID)

Manta ray mating seems to be triggered by the full moon and takes place at different times of the year depending on location. A male will follow a female moving at speeds of about 10 km/h (6.2 mph) and try to grab her fin in his mouth, which may take several attempts. Once he has a good grip, he will moved so their undersides are facing each other and insert a clasper into her cloaca. Claspers are paired appendages in male cartilaginous fish that are extensions of the pelvic fins that function similarly to penises. Semen runs down a groove in the clasper into the female's oviduct. The pair will then part. Females are left with scars on their fins where the males bite them. The quantity of scars can help determine how many times a female has mated. Oftentimes, a female will be followed by a train of multiple males, all attempting to mate with her. Females will bear usually one but sometimes two babies at once. Mantas are ovoviviparous, meaning the female will retain an egg inside of her that will hatch internally once the yolk supply is depleted. Once hatched, the juvenile remains inside the oviduct for some time, being fed by a milky-white nutritious substance called histotroph that the mother secretes. Once the juvenile exits the mother, it is on its own, receiving no parental care. Gestation takes 12-13 months. Mild females typically get pregnant every 1-2 years. Females seem to reach sexual maturity at 8-10 years can can live to 50 years old in the wild.

(Images: black and white photos of a manta ray giving birth. The first photo shows the juvenile having just exited the mother. The second shows the juvenile after leaving the mother, resting on some coral. The juvenile exits the mother with its fins curled up like a burrito. End ID)

The IUCN classified reef mantas as Vulnerable and giant mantas as Endangered. Their largest threat comes from overfishing, both targeted and as bycatch. Mantas are fished fro their skin, meat, and liver oil. More recently, a demand for manta gill rakers in alternative (read: quack) medicine has led to an increase in fishing and poaching after a historical decrease. Mantas are highly vulnerable to becoming entangled in fishing lines and nets. Because they need to continuously swim to force air over their gills, an entangled manta will quickly suffocate. Their attempts to free themselves typically just gets them more tangled. Manta rays are also vulnerable to boat strikes, pollution, climate change, and microplastic ingestion. Mantas are now protected in international waters by the Convention on Migratory Species of Wild Animals and have local protections on many places. Manta ray tourism has become an industry that brings in an estimated US$140 million per year to local economies. Tourists are offered the chance to observe manta rays in the wild on boat and SCUBA trips. While manta ray tourism can increase awareness of their conservation needs, it can also lead to in increased risk of injury and disease transmission to the rays. Manta rays in the past were often feared by sailors due to their size. They were named devil rays due to their cephalic lobes resembling horns and were believed to pull up anchors and drag ships off course.

(Image: Inspector Clouseau, a pink manta ray seen off Lady Elliot Island, Australia. It is believed to be the result of a mutation in pigment cells and is the only known case of a pink manta. End ID)

[alphynix]

Nicknamed the "Y animal" or "wye", Escumasia roryi is an enigmatic fossil organism known from the Late Carboniferous Mazon Creek fossil beds in Illinois, USA, dating to about 308 million years ago.

Growing up to around 15cm tall (~6") this strange soft-bodied creature was Y-shaped, with two slender "arms" on each side of an apparent mouth opening, a flattened sac-like body with another opening on one side, and a long stalk ending in an attachment disc. Some specimens have uneven arm lengths, which may indicate damage from predation.

Being only known from the exceptional preservation conditions of Mazon Creek, and with nothing else quite like it in the known fossil record, Escumasia's evolutionary relationships are still a mystery. It's been tentatively linked to cnidarians – but this doesn't really fit based on its anatomy, and little further study has been done on it since its discovery in the 1970s.

It was probably a filter feeder, living attached to the seafloor and capturing suspended organic material or small planktonic prey with its arms. The environment it inhabited was a shallow tropical marine bay, located close to the equator at the time, near a large river delta that would have made the surrounding waters rather brackish. This ecosystem was dominated by cnidarians, particularly the anemone Essexella, along with various arthropods, lobopodians, polychaete worms, molluscs, echinoderms, fish, lampreys, hagfish, and other difficult-to-classify weirdos like the famous "Tully monster" Tullimonstrum.

———

NixIllustration.com | Tumblr | Patreon

References:

Clements, Thomas, Mark Purnell, and Sarah Gabbott. "The Mazon Creek Lagerstätte: a diverse late Paleozoic ecosystem entombed within siderite concretions." Journal of the Geological Society 176.1 (2019): 1-11. https://doi.org/10.1144/jgs2018-088

Nitecki, Matthew H., and Alan Solem. "A problematic organism from the Mazon Creek (Pennsylvanian) of Illinois." Journal of Paleontology (1973): 903-907. https://www.jstor.org/stable/1303070

Wikipedia contributors. “Mazon Creek fossil beds.” Wikipedia, 10 May 2024, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mazon_Creek_fossil_beds

[battleangel]

THE PLANET WILL DIE BY 2100!

THE PLANET IS DYING!

THE EARTH WILL DIE IN 100 YEARS!

100+ STUDIES PREDICT EARTH WILL BE UNINHABITABLE BY 2100!

Extreme weather never seen before — droughts, heat waves, back to back fire warnings than freeze warnings, 40+ degree temperature changes in one day, earthquakes & tornadoes in areas that never previously had them — signal the literal destruction of planet earth.

The sky is ACTUALLY falling!

•Do not have any children.

•Do not buy a house — live in a 1 bedroom apartment.

•Stop using air conditioning — use electric ceiling or box fan & open window.

•Keep thermostat for heat between 62 degrees & 68 degrees during winter.

•Work remotely if you can — W-2, contract, temp, part-time, freelance, fractional, start your own business — avoid working on-site & in an office that would require a daily commute.

•Only drive when absolutely necessary — walk, take the bus or stay home — should only be purchasing gas for car a few times a year at most.

•Do NOT buy an electric vehicle or hybrid vehicle & do not use air taxis. •Cobalt is only available in Congo & is causing a genocide as local warlords kill each other & local civilians over the mineral that Apple, Tesla, Google, Samsung, etc. pays outrageous amounts for — men, women & children work in the Congolese mines for 12 to 16+ hours a day with no protective gear & cobalt is an extremely toxic mineral.

•Stop buying new cell phones — buy refurbished or used cell phones every 3 to 5+ years — cobalt is used for the batteries for all cell phones & is currently causing a genocide in Congo.

•Stop buying new electronic devices — laptops, tablets, TVs, smart watches.

•Cobalt is used for the batteries for all cell phones & is currently causing a genocide in Congo.

•Stop taking vacations — do staycations instead.

•Do staycations — local county & state fairs, carnivals, farms, parks, gardens, movie marathons or sleepovers at home, nature trails, hiking, local museums.

•Stop flying in airplanes.

•Do not fly anywhere unless absolutely unavoidable.

•Do not go on cruises.

•Do not stay in hotels.

•Stay in motels, economic lodging, airbnb, vrbo or couch surf with locals.

•Minimize meat intake — stop eating meat Monday through Friday.

•No plastic water bottles.

•Buy water filter + use stainless steel water thermos.

•No showering or bathing.

•Wash at sink with face cloth & soap.

•Do not live in an apartment with a washing machine & dryer.

•Only do laundry at laundromat every 30 to 90+ days.

•Do not live in an apartment with a dishwasher — wash dishes by hands.

•Only do laundry at laundromat every 30 to 90+ days.

•Reduce single use plastic whenever possible.

•Six R’s: Refuse, repair, reduce, reuse, recycle.

•Delete Prime & Amazon account.

•Do not buy from Amazon.

• Borrow books from local library or purchase from local book stores or independent book stores online.

•Stop using fast fashion apps — Shein, Zaful, Romwe, Fashion Nova.

•Stop buying clothes at the mall, department stores & chains.

•Do not buy new clothes.

•Buy used clothes from online & in-person thrift shops — Depop, Mercari, Etsy, Poshmark, Goodwill & consignment stores.

•Reuse current outfits until they are unwearable — 25+ years.

•Only buy new shoes when current pair breaks down — every 10+ years.

•Stop using plastic sanitary pads & plastic tampon applicators — wear period underwear + biodegradable tampons without applicators or period cups or menstrual discs.

•Shave your head yourself with a razor at home every 1 to 3 months — stop going to hair salons & barbershops — do not use any hair products (shampoo, conditioner, oil, gel, spray, etc.) — do not dye hair — do not color gray hairs.

•Wear wigs for 3 to 5+ years before replacing.

•Be frugal & minimize consumerism.

•Do not purchase anything online more than 1 to 3 times a year.

•Do not buy gifts for anyone.

•Advocate for antinatalism — the belief that procreation is immoral & unjust.

•Advocate for the voluntary extinction of the human race both online & in-person.

•Minimize fast food, delivery, takeout & sit down restaurants to a few times a year.

•Do not use KCups & minimize buying coffee at Dunkin Donuts, QuickChek, Wawa, Starbucks or any chain.

•Brew coffee at home with reusable pod.

•Avoid big box retail & chains.

•Shop local grocers, food markets & mom & pop small businesses.

Make these changes because of climate change.

Make the change to save our dying planet!

Make that change!

[writingsofhubris]

Portrait of a Lady

↞ | ← | Master | AO3 | → |

Ch 2. You have the scene arrange itself — as it will seem to do— Rating: E WC: Tags: Lovecraftian Monster(s), Human/Monster Romance, Oviposition, Tentacle Sex, Cancer Ship: Harding Hooten/Reader Disc: You'd met Harding elsewhere, even though you'd never talked for more than a few minuets. When you'd stopped into his emergency room, when you'd visited Chelsea, you found yourself looking at a man you'd known only in passing heading your care. He'd led you through tumultuous questions, opened up as easily as any of the surgeons could open up a person. Somehow, you'd been drawn to Harding, and he was willing to take you up on your offer.

It had been two weeks since you’d been discharged. Two full weeks of healing, of no more migraines, of fun. 

You looked into the mirror at the biggest indicator of the trauma. A bald head, shorn to the skin, with a line showing just where your head had been cut into. It looked as clean as could be expected, but no one would enjoy seeing such a sight. 

The scarf you’d purchased months ago was in your hands, and you carefully tied the silk so it wouldn’t shift off your head, allowing you the warmth that your hair had once provided. You had received unknowing compliments on the different designs already, though it still felt like a slap in the face to tie. 

You took a deep breath, trying to keep yourself steady. To celebrate, your mothers had been spoiling you rotten, spending every spare moment they could with you. You privately believed them to be scared of the possibility they’d been presented with; losing you in such a speedy, pedestrian way. Tonight was an art exhibit, a request from both of them to have your company; one that you took them up on quite quickly. You enjoyed their company too much to turn them down, and to see the opening to a long forgotten Mark Rothko? You knew better than to turn that down. 

Another look at the scarf, elegantly draped down your back, matching the lovely dress you’d splurged on to get. Dark silk draped over your body, complimenting each aspect you loved about yourself. You had to feel good about yourself somehow, and your dresses certainly allowed you that. 

“You look beautiful!” Your mom took both your hands, and turned you around, allowing you to show off the look you’d pulled together. “Just stunning, glorious. No one will be looking at the Rothko with you in front of them.” Her words stole a laugh from you, and you wrapped your arms around her body, pulling her close to you. 

“You look beautiful, too, mom.” Just then, your Mama walked in, dressed in a loose, elegant dress. It looked like it was made for her, fitted just so over her body. “Oh, Mama, look at you!” you separated from your mom, only to wrap your arms around your mama, pressing your face against her shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re both coming with, I wouldn’t know how to handle everyone otherwise." You kissed her cheek for a moment, and took a step back. 

Just then, a phone rang. The call was answered by mom, and finished quickly. 

"Cmon, the cab is outside!"

It wasn’t quite as busy as you had expected. There was a spattering of people, filtering in and around the different canvases, but it wasn’t even close to the amount of people you’d expected this exhibition to warrant. A newly found Mark Rothko, never before seen to the public, and there was still elbow room. You would have felt shocked, if not for the obscurity of the art world these days. 

A flute of champagne was held in your fingers, the single drink you allowed yourself during your healing. From the moment it was drained, you knew water was calling your name. 

Few faces were recognizable to you; not due to a lack of recalling the names, but an influx of those interested in the art itself. A certain amount of anticipation filtered into you, hoping that it would end up bringing in a new wave of blood, an interest in the classics brought forth by American painters. But a face isn’t what first jogged your memory of a name. 

No, a back, clad in a black jacket, broad as could be, called your attention faster than anything could have managed. You recognized that cropped hair, the weight placed on the heel of his left foot. Doctor Harding Hooten, called from his fancy hospital rooms to the lanes of an art gallery. 

You walked up to him just as his conversation finished up, those who had taken his time walking away with a gentle touch to his forearm. He tipped his glass to them, before taking a sip of the dark liquid.

“Doctor,” you said, your feet stopping even with his. 

“Ah, hello.” You were careful to watch him out of the corner of your eye, but his eyes stayed trained on you, a small smile on his lips. His gaze lingered for just a moment, before turning to the dark curtains surrounding the painting. “Are you here for the Rothko?”:

“As I assume you are.” He tried to reply to you, only for an employee to walk up to the curtains, her strong voice ringing through the gallery. 

“If everyone could please localize in the main area, we are about to reveal the painting!”

“Here we are.” Harding’s hand moved to your middle back, a sudden contact you hadn’t been expecting. The silk did little to mute the heat from his hand; it sunk into your muscles, straight through to your core. He guided you in the most subtle of ways, just a gentle pressure to allow you a better view. Harding moved you to stand just slightly in front of him, allowing you protection from anyone who would try to surge forward from behind. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, distinguished guests. It is my pleasure to reveal to everyone our newest, priceless artifact. A Rothko, never before seen in Portland. Untitled, 1952, by Mark Rothko.” A pull of the cord, and the painting was shown, a flourish befitting of the art. violet, orange, and burgundy, all colors brushed into the striking canvas, telling a story that you hadn’t expected. Beautiful, invocative, breathtaking. A hush fell over the people, simply allowing themselves to take in the art. 

“Magnificent,” Harding whispered, his deep voice just over your shoulder. He was just as taken as the rest of you, looking over the pigments that had been shaped by emotions now unknown to all of you gathered. The voice of the host was loudest, describing what was occurring during Rothko’s life, what may have spurred him to paint this work. 

No words passed between you and Harding in those moments, simply appreciating the art in the way that Mark Rothko preferred his art to be viewed; silence to preserve the freedom of mind. 

Taking more time in nature was something you’d wanted to do for years. With the kick of this surgery, you’d at last taken the plunge to take a walk just after breakfast, before you knew you needed to sit down for the day. It started to bring you a peace you hadn’t even realized you’d missed. The dew on the ground was always cold when your feet would pass through it, the birds only just started to caw and whistle to each other, the beams of the morning sun found the starts of buds on the leaves. Your footsteps’ echo on the cement had worked its way into the waking of the world. 

You stretched your arms above your head as you continued to walk on, pulling your muscles in your back for just a moment. It was just then, quite out of the blue, that you heard your name, yelled out behind you. 

The man who had yelled it was one you’d been thinking of just the night previously; Harding Hooten, dressed in all matter as a man on a day off. That bowtie you’d come to expect on him still was snug under his chin, but instead of a suit, you found a deep purple sweater vest adorning his chest, warmth sucked to his body. His coat was open over his stomach, but with the wind having let up slightly, you found yourself grateful for the sight. 

“Harding!” You took a couple steps closer, but he hurried his way to join you. A pair of binoculars rested against his breast, a clear indication of what his goals were in the park. "Harding, how are you?" His smile swept you into his good cheer, mirroring him with your own smile. Seeing Harding this early in the day made you happy in a way that you were becoming familiar with when you would see him. 

"Good morning. What are you doing this early out here?"

"Just on my morning walk. What about you?"

"Birding. I haven't had a chance this early in a while."

"Birding?" 

"Identifying local species,” he clarified. “I’ve been on the lookout for a specific Eurasian collared-dove that found a roost in just one of these trees, but I have yet to locate the nest.” 

“Would you like some company, then?” 

“It would be my pleasure.” You fell into step next to Harding, allowing him to guide your path to the suspected trees. 

“Just ahead,” Harding’s low voice intoned, stopping a few yards from an outcropping. “A few of us are looking for this, It’s just…” His voice trailed off, just as he lifted the binoculars to his eyes. A couple slight adjustments, and he froze, his breathing even stopping for the moment. “My god.” In his excitement, Harding stepped closer to you, and moved the small plastic apparatus to your face, holding it at just the right angle. 

You saw what had taken his breath in those moments, a small family of the very dove that he had been looking for. To you, they just looked like a normal, if thin and less fancy, pigeon, four of them sitting all together. Two fully grown, and two that were just slightly smaller; a family clearly, with children not just ready to leave their parent’s safety. Harding’s excitement for the small birds enraptured you, allowing you a side to the birds that you hadn’t expected to see. 

He was right; the implicit love and admiration of the man coloring your view of the animals. He found wonderment and peace in these seconds, the calming nature of simply observing. It lined up with what you had already come to know about him; Harding was sure of himself due to his rigorous adherence to observing long honored practices; birding included. 

You pulled back from the binoculars, and felt your arm brush against him. You must have gotten close due to the small amount of slack his neck strap offered him. Embarrassment flooded through your body, your cheeks warming. 

Nearly at the same time, you both cleared your throats, and stepped away from the other’s personal space. Quick thinking as he always was, Harding was the one to save the conversation. 

“I haven’t found a Eurasian collared-dove here in Portland in nearly four years.” 

“That long?” 

“I’ve been claiming it has been due to my work schedule, but I think you just proved I needed some luck. And to wake up just a little earlier.” 

“Then I'm glad to have provided a service for you.” You looked around, hearing the first coos of the birds, signaling their consciousness to your presence. “How lucky of us both.” The time spent with Harding meant more than you’d expected, a small look into his world, his life. He was a man of many pursuits, it seemed, all tuned just so to his life, allowing breaks only when it was properly possible. 

Perhaps those layers would be pulled back for you, on your account. 

The thought flitted into your head, unbidden, and you had to pull your gaze from the man, glancing back to the trees you had just been looking at. The trees were much safer to look at than it was to look directly at the doctor himself. 

“Are you going to be attending the American Cancer Society’s banquet next week?” 

“Yes; Chelsea needed a representative.” 

“So work, not pleasure.” 

“Indeed.” One of the doves suddenly took flight, a flurry of activity in the midst of your discussion. Its wings spread in powerful strokes, flying high over the branches. 

“Beautiful.” The path of the flight brought you back to looking at Harding, his face swinging away from you only moments after the birds flew by. “Really beautiful.”

If you’d been luckier, Harding would be sitting next to you, instead of across from your chair. A circular table of six, intimate but not crowded, full of strangers. The only thing that tied the six of you together was the support for the society, a shared care for those who would inevitably benefit. 

Such events used to find discontent on your end, never sure how to actually handle yourself. Over time, you had become more natural in your actions, more sure in your enjoyment of such dinners. The more you went, the more you would find casual acquaintances, some of which blossomed into friendships.

This benefit had already concluded the bulk of speeches, recognizing someone or another for a donation. The table took up conversation fairly quickly; Discussion was shared through the first course, polite laughter over the salad. Plates were whisked away, the service as top notch as you’d have expected. Not a dropped fork, nor a clash of cups had been heard in the room. 

This dinner hadn’t meant to stay smooth; you saw the degradation happen slowly. Someone from the table on the other side of Harding stood without looking behind them. Her shoulder caught the edge of a serving tray, and the six plates carefully balanced on the server’s hand was knocked directly over his shoulder. You heard the guests’ startled gasps, the waiter’s exclamation of shock and warning insufficient to stop the sauce and sweets from spilling over Harding’ shoulder. Thick, stick brown sauce marred his bowtie, dripping down his vest and coat, landing in his lap. Shock stilled your table, and with a glance behind you to not replicate the same issue, you stood with your napkin. 

Whatever possessed you to stand and help him, you weren’t entirely sure. But you were around the table, ready to help him to a more private area to clean up.

“You didn’t need to help clean me up.” His voice was low, just for you. “You’re missing your dessert, and that’s really the only course meant to be enjoyed during these.” 

“Hush,” you replied, sliding the linen carefully over his cheeks. You heard a sudden round of applause from the room a few halls over, but you didn’t even look over your shoulder. Surface scars and pockets in his face caught the chocolate sauce from the swipes of the fabric. “I doubt any kind of food I’m missing is worth more than seeing you covered up like this.” Another pass of the dark fabric, and you cleaned off his other cheek. Each pass removed more of the sticky sauce, until you finished with a pass over his nose. His freshly buzzed hair was almost a lost cause, already congealed back into chocolate. Even if the sauce was cleaned up from most of his hair, it would be too sticky to ignore. 

“You missed the chance for a photograph.” 

“Could’ve framed it.” You look a moment to look over his face, reaching out once more to brush off some more from his cheekbone, face cleaned. 

“But you’re still missing the final plate of decadence.” A rush of boldness suddenly took you, and you reached out with two fingers, as he had done to feel your pulse, many times before. Unlike his actions, your fingers simply slid over his neck, passing along a spot coated in sauce. You looked at Harding as you sucked your fingers clean, looking him in the eyes. 

“I’m okay missing that decadence.” Harding’s eyes fought to move back to yours, witnessing that small smirk on your lips. You tipped up his head with the napkin, once again cleaning his skin. His neck only had some left on the right side, marred with the swipe from your fingers. His bowtie was ruined as well, threads stealing a slight darkness. Each swipe took off more. Only one shoulder was covered in sauce, which you carefully dabbed at, trying to help with the stain there. 

“I’m afraid the shirt is a lost cause,” Harding interjected, and your hand fell from his shoulder. You’d cleaned off most of the liquid, enough that it shouldn’t transfer to anything else. 

“I think you’re right. Bowtie and vest, too.” 

“So long as the rain has settled, I’ll be fine.” 

“Want to sneak out early? I don’t think I can handle any more of those promises that won’t be followed through on.” 

“There’s a side hall just that way.” Harding nodded to the right of the door, and your plan was made. Rules be damned, the night was late, and Harding wasn’t in a state to return to the dinner anyway. “C’mon.” With the simple word, Harding guided you out of the small wash room, twisting this way and that to locate the coats. The coat attendant’s eyes widened upon seeing the mess Harding was, not even sparing a glance for you. 

“Sir, is everything alright?” 

“Not quite, I’m afraid a small accident requires me to retire early for the night.” You could see the smile on his lips, and he fished out his token for his coat. “Might I…?” 

“Yes, of course.” He seemed to see you then, with your own token offered for your light coat. The attendant stepped away to retrieve both, leaving you be.

“I must look worse than I expected to hear no remark from her.” Harding started.

“No worse than what you’ve seen me like.” He’d seen you in a hospital gown; It almost felt like an equalizer of embarassment. 

Outside, the darkness was fought back with the light of the streets. A slight chill ran over your skin, and you pulled your coat even tighter around your shoulders. 

“Are you busy next Saturday, Harding?” 

“Not as of yet.” 

“Would you like to join me for dinner?” 

“It would be my honor.”