#and one of the metatarsals is the same one!

[weaponizedhorse]

I have seen the foot doctor today!

Here is what I broke

He did not seem very excited about the little breaks on my 4th metatarsal but I had to swear up and down I would keep the boot on and put absolutely no pressure on it cause he was about to put me in a cast cause of the broken cuboid but you know what you can't do with a cast? Take a fuckin shower. I am still traumatized from the hip to toe cast I had when I was 6 I will not do that again if I can help it.

He thinks the dent in my foot is from the boot but 1 I have aired my foot out long enough for the creases and lines on my foot to go away but the dent does not and 2 I did not get a dent like this last time I had a boot which only just thought of now

And apparently the doctor can see my x-ray and CT scan on HIS version of my chart but I get the dumb text version? I am getting those cause anything he showed me on screen I did not see cause I forgot my glasses:)

[tswwwit]

Hey man me again, it’s nearly 3am and i was curious. What would theoretically happen if someone (say a human bully, or a lesser uninformed demon or smthn of the sort) were to put down and talk absolute shit about Dipper with the anticipation of Bill joining in and/or being impressed and agreeing cause here’s this super cool and sexy guy surely he also thinks Dipper’s a useless freak right? How would Bill take this kinda confrontation about his husband? Would his reaction vary depending on wether or not Dipper was there? (I lowkey think it would but I’m just a worm in a bait bucket uk) (also sorry this comes across like a fucking critical thinking question from a middle school textbook)

At best someone talking shit about Dipper gets a long lecture about all the reasons Dipper is way, way cooler than them! And some broken bones. That's Bill's husband, he picked a great partner, and he is not going to pretend otherwise for someone else's ego.

The rant's absent if Dipper's around, but frankly? It'd be better for the bully/demon if Dipper was around to hear someone dissing him to Bill. In that Bill would refrain from the most gruesome acts within his mortal's sight.

Though if they're smart, they'll notice the way Bill's looking at them, and take that brief amount of time to run.

[darewolfcreates]

happy Frosty Fest :]

Remade an old drawing from my Miiverse days. Original undercut (its not going to be what you expect).

[b0ng05]

Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader:

Injured

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Word Count: 1937

Summary: Sam broke her foot at the gym, and her loving girlfriend is there to dote on her

!MDI 18+! SMUT

Also, Not Proofread💅

Master list/ Request list

I hold in a laugh as I walk into Sam and I’s apartment, on the couch sat Sam with her casted foot propped up on a pillow on the coffee table. She wore an annoyed yet pouting look, her bottom lip jutted out a bit and her brows furrowed in frustration of her situation. Her arms crossed, making her muscles bulk out a bit more.

“Hey honey, how are you?” I ask, trying to stifle a small giggle at her expression.

I make my way over to the couch to sit next to her, kissing her cheek softly.

“About as good as I can be after dropping a weight on my foot.” Sam grumbles as she stares at the tv, which was playing an episode of Survivor.

“You should’ve been more careful,” I say, cringing after I see the glare she gave me.

“I am careful…” Sam mumbles, wrapping her arm around my shoulder before slyly flicking my arm with the same hand.

“How bad did you break your foot?” I ask, curling up to her side.

“An acute metatarsal fracture. Doctor said it might take weeks or months to heal, all I know is I want this damn cast off.” Sam remarked, her hand softly rubbing over the spot she flicked.

“How did you even drop a weight on your foot?” I ask, stroking her hair back out of her face.

“I was trying to swap weights on the benchpress, it just slipped out of my hands I guess,” She mumbles, a bit embarrassed.

“It’s alright, just means I get more attention cause you can barely workout now,” I tease with a playful smile as I lean up to kiss her jaw.

“I see how it is, you enjoy my pain, huh?” Sam jokes with a squinting stare.

“Kiss me and find out?” I joke with a teasing smirk.

“And how exactly would that help me-” Before Sam can finish her sentence, I steal a small kiss, teasingly biting her lip as I pull away before looking at her with a mischievous grin.

“That did actually help, maybe a few more,” Sam teases with a playful smirk, tapping her lips with her pointer finger.

I giggle and lean up again, our lips locking in a soft, slow, sweet, and loving kiss. My hand moves to run through her long dark hair gently as hers move to softly rub my waist with her thumbs.

“So how exactly did you get to the hospital, and then back home…?” I inquire after our lips part.

“... I had to call Tara. It was a harrowing process.” Sam states, slightly cringing at the memory of her with her arm wrapped around Tara’s shoulder as Tara tried to help her walk in and out of the buildings. The total process took them hours due to Tara being significantly shorter than Sam.

“Could’ve been worse,” I try to reassure with an amused smile.

“How? Tara almost fell over trying to help me, 4 times,” Sam scoffs trying to stifle a laugh at her own comment.

“She did her best.” I say trying to hold a straight face as a grin itches the corner of my lips.

“That she did.” Sam grins with a chuckle as she leans over to kiss my cheek.

“I love you.” I say, with a smile as I kiss her cheek in return.

“I love you too. Now, since I’m kind of working with one foot, can you get me water?” Sam asks with a cheesy but charming grin.

“You’re lucky you have a cute face.” I tease as I stand up to grab her water, only for her to lightly slap my butt once I’m up.

“And you have a cute butt,” Sam teases back with a mischievous grin.

“Oh hush,” I laugh as I walk to the kitchen to go fill up a water bottle for Sam.

Once I come back and hand her the water bottle, she takes a sip and puts it on the end table next to her before pulling me back into her arms.

"So how was Tara?” I ask with a smile as I snuggle up to her.

“She was kinda busy cracking jokes about me breaking my foot, for me to have asked her,” Sam grins at the thought of her sister, despite the fact the girl started playing Big Foot by Nicki Minaj when Sam got in her car to go to the hospital, and the fact that Tara played it just to mischievously look at Sam and sing, “The bitch fell off, I said “Get up on your good foot!”

“Sounds about right,” I let out a small giggle as I poke the tip of her nose.

“Y’know usually people dote on the injured, but you and Tara are relentless, I bet you guys would hit someone with glasses on.” Sam playfully glares at me, before poking my nose back.

“Maybe I would, my hands are rated E for everyone,” I joke.

“Knew it,” Sam laughs before leaning down to kiss me.

I kiss back, our lips meeting in a sweet kiss. I could feel my heart swell and butterflies fluttering my stomach. Her soft lips parting as her tongue grazes my lip, I give her access. Our tongues meet in passionate dance. Sam’s hands move to my waist as mine move around the back of her neck, my nails delicately trailing up and down the back of her neck, causing a small but noticeable shiver to run up Sam’s spine. She leans in more, pulling me closer as we kiss.

As we make out, Sam moves her feet off of the coffee table, gently trying to lay me back on the couch, but as she goes to crawl on top of me I hear a small thump, she pulls back out of the kiss quickly. She bites down hard on her fist, stilling for a moment in pain.

“Sam? You okay, baby?” I ask worriedly as I caress her arm softly.

“I just smacked my foot so hard on the armrest.” Sam groans as she moves to cradle her casted foot, her face scrunched in pain and annoyance.

“Oh you poor baby,” I say trying to hold back a small giggle as I cradle her head against my chest and kiss her forehead.

“Don’t mock me in my time of need,” Sam jokes as she pokes my side making me giggle.

“Oh and what type of need is that?” I tease as I move to lift Sam’s legs onto the couch, making her look at me with a blush.

“Oh shut up,” Sam says with a blush.

I giggle and move to lay between Sam’s legs, being extra cautious of her casted foot. I caress her cheek before kissing her again, igniting our heated makeout session once more. I move to kiss down her jaw, down to her neck. I kiss her neck, my tongue softly running over her pulse point before sucking down on it, forming a dark hickey. Sam’s hands move, one threading through my hair bringing me closer, the other resting on my butt with a teasing grip.

I sit up, my hands grasping the hem of her shirt and gently tugging it off of her before leaning back down to start kissing along her collarbone, trailing my tongue along it delicately, causing Sam to let out a soft almost inaudible whimper. She holds me tighter as I kiss down to her chest, tugging her black sports bra over her head before I begin to give attention to her breasts. My hand teasing and rolling over the nub on one of her breasts, my mouth occupying the other, as Sam breathing begins to pick up. Her eyes fluttering shut as she relishes in the pleasure emitted from the action.

“Baby~” Sam moans softly, her hand resting in my hair.

I smirk as I begin to kiss down her stomach, my hand moving to softly rub her hip as I kiss just above her waistband of her sweatpants. My other hand moves to untie the strings of her pants before tugging the soft plush down her legs, being cautious of her injury. I smirk at the sight before me, her panties were slightly soaked with her wetness. I pull them off, not wasting any time. I lay back between her legs, pressing kisses to her inner thighs as I watch her grow more flustered, Sam was normally in control in our more intimate moments, so this made her feel extra vulnerable. I lift her legs over my shoulders gently before I lean in and lick up her wet slit slowly, watching her mouth open in pleasure as a shaky breath leaves her plump lips. I moan against her wet cunt, making her moan a bit louder, her hands tangling in my hair to pull me closer to where she needs me.

“Fuck, babe~” Sam whines as she bites her bottom lip.

I swirl my tongue around her clit, my eyes gazing up at her as I watch her face contort in pleasure. I thrust my tongue inside of her, my thumb moving to rub her clit to match the pace of my tongue which was teasing her with a slow pace.

“Faster~” Sam bites her lip as her head leans back onto the couch.

I add a bit of haste to my actions. My other hand moves to hold down her waist as her hips begin to buck and grind against my mouth. Her moans echo out as I continue to eat her out. I move back to suck her clit as my finger moves to tease at her entrance, her wetness so prominent that it slipped in with ease.

“Please, I’m getting close,” Sam mumbles through strung out moans.

She moans louder, her chest heaving as her pleasure starts to build up. Her hand grips the edge of the couch, the other tugging my hair as she gets closer. I slip in another finger, going a bit faster as I feel her pulsing around my fingers. I let her grind her hips against my mouth as she chases her high. She cums around my fingers with a loud moan of my name. I let her ride out her high until her thighs twitch from sensitivity. I carefully take her legs off of my shoulders as I lick her juices off of my fingers. Sam stiffles a moan at the sight as she pulls me down for a kiss.

The kiss is soft and loving, her hands caressing my cheeks delicately. As we pull away, I lean my forehead against hers, closing my eyes.

“I love you, Sammy,” I whisper softly with a smile.

“I love you too,” She replies after she catches her breath, looking at me with utmost love.

I smile and peck her lips before getting up to go get a rag to clean her up and to go get her different panties, considering the soaked state of her ones on the floor. When I return, she’s attempting to hobble off of the couch to come find me, unsurprisingly without her crutches.

“Sam!” I scold as I rush over to help her sit back down.

“Am I not allowed to get up now?” Sam playfully sighs as she sits down, not resisting it.

“Not without your crutches,” I smile, kissing her cheek.

I clean her up with the rag, and then help her back into her panties and sweatpants.

“Now this is what I call properly doting on the injured,” Sam teases, with a cheeky smirk before pulling me back into her arms as I giggle.

[missamyrisa2]

I just had the best idea! A tickle anatomy lesson with Dr. Amy! You'll tell us all about the tickliest spots of the human body and the best ways to extract giggles!

Oh, but you'll be the subject of course! What will be the first lesson? Feetsies? Tumtums? Ohhh maybe the pittypits!

Noooooooo you hadddd me in the first half ~!!!

but allllsooo oh my gosssshh the thought of a teacher giving a tickle lesson as they're being tickled by their own guidance? Ticklehootttttttt~!! I can just seeeeee me likeeee in my floral dress and little cardigan..

You need to restrain your subject by the wrists and ankles, yes just like that. And for some you may want the waist restraint but this also limits your range of sensation. The same can be said for leg and bicep restraints. For this subject, they are quite wiggly and it will largely depend on how much movement you want to afford them. Now that those restraints are in place it is important to test, so if you there, you want to run your index finger on my posterior axillary fold which is YESSSSSSEEE that liiiiIINNEe at my outer underarm and you can SEHEHEEE my arm is secure no matter how I pulll okay okayyy that's enough that's enough and on the other underarm OKAYYYY that's the axilla up top and your nails are good they're good so move to my feet now pleeeheeeease stoppp tickling thereee!!

so on the fooooot there's an area above the heel called the plantar apaneurosiiiiiiisssss unnhhhh yesss see okay okayyyy I can't PULLLL outttt that tiiiicklesss!! and okay class, there's a toools over there get a fffffeatherrrr and I'm gonna show youuu unnhh the spotttt the suuuuperficial okay the superficial stoppp tiiiicklingggg my serratus anterior muscleeee we're not up thereee yettt!! Get the featherrr get the feather and take it to my superficial transverse metatarsal ligaments which are under my toesss and just glide them back and forth that's a spot that's a spot that's a SPOSOOOOOHHOTTTTT! We call that a sensual spotttt toooo because well you can see my blushing is increasing and my legs are quivering so those are spots you can find and mmmhhhhh class dismissseddd?? Nooo noo okayyyy you want to learn moreee welll unnhhh who here is good at massagesss?

Sooo right at the knees ummhh just ghhh move my dress up a little a littttttle not that faaarr!! just mmh above the kneee there's the quadriceps muscle and tendon and if you youuuu nnnhhhh okay you found blush brushes and that's myyyyy medial plantar fascia on my foottttt which is likeeee the soleee to some but it's a curve of a spot and that's why my toes are wiggling and I'm bouncing you're learning fast how to stimulate the sensation that's goooOOOODDD that's a good spoohhohott ohhh my gooooddd you're goood! OKayy okayyy sooo mmmh mmmmassageee the tendon right above my kneeeee with thumb and index finger and EEEHEEUNHH! That's whhhyyyy you're seeing quiverrssss and ooh yes trembles that's ticklisssh that's tiiiickliiIISSHSHH!

Now now class. There's another area I wanted to coooverrrr but you have to stoppp tickling meeee I can't speakkkkk when you doooo thattttt okayy yokayyy. Ummhh. The stomach is a common one but there's sooo many spots and it can't be underestimated you have to use finesseeee and find the real good spots you have to probe you need to unnnhh okay okayyyy just going right in nowwww? Mmmhh yeahh okayyy you can tuck my dress into my waistbelt that's I guessss what it's there forrr huhhhh? Okay see you see my twitches and bouncing in my belly? That's anticipation that's me realizing I have so many spots and you all have so many fingers and MmmhMHHH I see that duster too okayyyy. And welll you can startttt at the eppppigastric region that's the smallll area between the lower chest and stomach and it's a nice spottt to use the probing touch because it'll often trigger twitches elsewhere so you can move from there from that noooohohot so ticklish area to okayyy okayy you're on the right lumbar region nowww and that's ticklish that's mmmh I'm TIIICKLISSHH thereeeee and those are fingerssssss ghhahahhhhhd the duster on the umbilical regionnnnnn that's my naveeeeellll!!! and many people unnhh okay they'll moan like I just did because the navel is so very sensitive and the umblical riiiIINGGG okay okayyyy you're alll going so faasstttttt mmmhhh I haven't told you about the theeeee types of navellsss they all can be ticklish differentlyyyy and I'm not an outttieeee but my innieeee has a knottt I actually don't know what that's callled but okayy that's a feather in theere good intuition and classs if it's okay with you I'm going to take a break and screeeeeammm with giggles and moans for a while because I canttttt take itttttt and mmMHHHH I heard thatttt someone has the wand don't theyyyyyyy welllll suuuugarrrrr!

[randominji]

𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝟏: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓

: I see the key worked... very well then, I expect you to tred lightly little one. This may only be the opening page, but with enough care to details, it could hint to anything and everything for the storyline.

[Additional information regarding scheduling will be down below]

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: None... (maybe spelling mistakes)

Page unlocked! Click -> here <- to be taken to "your family" character profile page!

Everyone in your small spread of a community knew about the tale of the forest. You've been told of its wits and games, how the shadows always lie. It was the most essential life lesson your parents had to teach you as a child, even before teaching you how to feed yourself.

Never trust the forest.

It was always the number one rule, and therefore, it was always on your mind. This sick game of oppressed "what ifs-" had led to your twisted insights on the woodland, causing a connection of curiosity to stem from deep within.

It fascinated you. How could something so pure and raw as nature be so cruel and dangerous to the wonders that cohabitate with it? How could mother nature simply allow herself to corrupt the good creatures she's tried so hard to bring up?

Capitalism blossoms in every aspect of this earth, a hierarchy of social imbalance based on stereotypical assumptions and power. They always neglect the very aspects that keep them afloat, like nature and its natural decomposers.

You guess that's why imbalance strives on the blood of the incompetent, and you refuse to turn a blind eye to that. Not now, not ever.

"Y/n, where's Maxwell?"

The same impending call of your mother rings out, her voice cutting a clean slate above what was your arguing sister and brother.

"What?!" You respond, sitting up at the mention of Maxwell, your beloved companion and best friend.

"Maxwell? Have you seen him?"

"Uhhh…" You take a second to respond, eyes realigning with the foot of your bed. "Not recently! No?"

Placing the chisel and canvas of your constructed wooden statue down, you raise yourself from your bed with a curious gaze. Where was Maxwell?

The normally occupant spot by the foot of your bed was acquainted with the mangled of a deer's metatarsal bone and a patch of thin black and white hairs. His wool blanket, knitted by your mother, was in a mess, slumped to one half of your worn out mattress and the normally chewed on wood of your bedpost had no fresh saliva on its brutally mauled exterior.

"Maxwell!" You call, only to receive no tip off on his whereabouts. Inching yourself out of bed, you feel a certain dun fill your ears at the sudden sound of what could only be Maxwell's untrimmed nails scattering on the wooden floor.

Shuffling to the only wooden flooring within your shack of a house, you find your best friend, and dog, sitting and staring at the front door.

"What's up bud?" You pause to observe him, not a single bone in his body ached to move, not even his constantly wagging tail. "Do you need to go to the toilet?" You ask, moving to rest your hand on the rusted metal hook you use as a handle.

But still. No response.

"Max?" You mumble, eyes dragging from the tips of his gone pointed ears to the sudden twitch of his moistened snout.

"I'll let you out, but only for a minute. Make your business fast, alright boy?" You give the flat of his head a quick pat before opening the door.

It was apparent that with patience, came eagerness too- as Maxwell had immediately scurried out of the door, wasting no time in looking back as you only watched his silhouette fade into the void of darkness beyond your residence.

A deep feeling of something uneasy settled into your stomach almost instantly. You had already known you had just made the wrong choice.

"Y/n? Did you find him?!"

"Ahh…" you breathe out, eyes frantically dotting around, your vision trying to pry into the small crooks of the shadows as they obscure all light.

Your eyes remain trained on the darkness as the small of scraggy footsteps invade your ears. "Y/n?" It was your mother, you could tell by the rasp of her normally dried throat. Water wasn't all that easy to obtain for your household.

“Yeah…” You pause momentarily “Hey mom, I'll be right back… I'm just getting some fresh air” and with your final words, you had slipped past the poor excuse of a front door and into the chill of the pitched night.

These surroundings felt foreign at night. The friendly wave the grass usually gave you during your walks with Maxwell was now wagging its finger at you, taunting you with the curl of their bladed tips. Even the trees seemed like giant legs, planted firm and impenetrable within the soil like a knife to a gut. The grass was still wet from yesterday's downpour anyway- a certain moisture hung in the air around you, almost suffocating you with the earthy scent.

The thud of your front door hitting your weathered door frame had you jump a small distance forward, your shoes seeming to soak the small droplets of rain that had yet to evaporate from the ground. A small huff bypasses your lips as you begin to move- your steps seemingly careless as you wonder towards the last location you had seen Maxwell- the tree line that boarded the Rimwell Forest and what layed beyond it.

In all honesty, no one from your village had made much of an effort to barricade a defence between your location of eternal residence and the eerie forest beyond. No walls, no warnings, no fences, no nothing. There were as many precautions as there were punishments.

You were only ever to be told to never enter the forest, and if you had entered, you were to be forgotten about till your return- if you ever return.

No one cares about some inconvenient disappearance, especially when the missing person is someone of your social ranking within Croydon. You were merely the daughter of a manual labourer and a forgotten mistress. No one could care less about who you were, especially with your dad suffocating in his ever-building debt.

You've seen the way the poorer families thrash around in a cheap mess, their voices ringing out amongst the whole town due to its small size. Desperate knocks on everyone's front doors would go ignored constantly from the moment they realise this was another missing person case. Parents, wives, husbands, and even close friends to the missing person would demand an investigation, possibly even a board meeting in the small gazebo your poor excuse of a neighbourhood had. They were always a mess, but the responses were always worse.

“They did this to themself”

“They're not of our priority”

“Did they contribute to our society?”

“Are they of any significance to me?”

It always seemed as if the self-proclaimed president of Croydon was too preoccupied with developing what he'd want to administer as “The perfect village.” As he saw it, if they weren't of much importance, they were a lost cause. Someone could always fill the missing gaps, someone less or more able, because at the end of the day, one missing person wasn't much of a problem.

When it came to those of a higher stance in the village, however, it was a whole new story.

Though, thinking this back over… maybe rushing out after your dog wasn't the best idea. You recognise him to resemble a child in a blacksmiths- take your eyes off of him for one moment, and he's gone- but more often than not, he always returns. Maybe you should've had some patience before having left only a few seconds after him. Who knows? Maybe he's already back home?

With a defeated sigh, you look around. Your eyes had completely adjusted to the unusually dark shadows the canopy provided by this point, allowing you to see some finer details in the area. Above you laid a shelter of extended limbs, leaves folded over one another in a shambled pattern. The thick tendrils of tree roots protrude from the ground and arch their backs, a faint rustling sound from your left, then to your right echoed around in this earthy labyrinth.

It was safe to say your hair was standing on end with how eerie everything had gotten. Your senses kicked themselves into overdrive as you examined everywhere you stepped. Every mushroom and ivory bush was consciously noted until something oddly peculiar happened…

“Wasn't that-” You mumbled, your voice lowers into a whisper as you blink at the base of a tree. It stood tall and proud like nothing you've ever seen before- except you have.

That very same carving in the tree- one that almost resembled a rabbit- you could've sworn you saw that a few minutes ago. Had you been walking in circles, perhaps? Or are you just losing your mind?

The cold touch of an old man's finger runs down your spine, a painful shiver following pursuit. Your hand almost darts to the location of the chill as it deteriorates almost as quickly as it had appeared. Your shoulders tense defensively, and your breath hitches within the dry and tightened of your windpipes.

You already knew you weren't alone anymore. Your sixth sense had kicked in. It felt suffocating as you tried to remain as calm and vigilant as possible.

If the rumours about this forest were true, then you sure as hell weren't going down without getting as far away as possible first. Doing a U-turn and running back the way you came from would at least put you somewhere closer to home if you were to die. That way, maybe your family could find you, and maybe find some closure-

What?

You tense again at the sound of a frail twig snapping, a vision of what could be lurking around had you gulping once again. Though, there was something about this sound that made it far more distinct, far more disturbing.

It was as if it was right behind you.

Update schedule: I will try my best to update every Saturday. However, due to events in my life, not every update will be guaranteed. Additionally, on some weeks, there will be a dual post if you're lucky :)

Posts for the first few chapters will be at an irregular schedule as I'd like to have as many people caught up in this before the real adventure begins :^

[ikibli]

Non-Human Design 2: Leg Morphology

Digitigrade vs Plantigrade vs Unguligrade

The difference is easy. Digitigrade organisms walk on their toes and sometimes the ball of their foot. Plantigrade organisms walk on the sole of their foot. Unguligrade animals walk on their nails(hooves).

The joints in a digitigrade leg are arranged differently- what many people think of as a dog's knee is actually their ankle, sticking out backwards.

Left to right: Plantigrade leg, digitigrade leg, unguligrade leg. (Phalanges are highlighted in yellow, nails in brown, metatarsals in purple and tarsals in red.)

Advantages and Disadvantages

The main advantage of digitigrade and unguligrade legs is that they allow for more speed, more shock absorption and quieter footsteps. However, they are less stable and more extreme postures may make kicking impossible.

Plantigrade legs are stabler and better able to bear weight than digitigrade or unguligrade legs, but slower. They also make it easier to not fall over when kicking, especially for bipeds.

Non-Plantigrade Bipeds

There are two ways you could do a digitigrade or unguligrade biped.

The classic design is to just push the top of the lower leg backwards, shorten the leg bones and lengthen the foot bones. This ends up with a backwards "knee" and the foot and thigh in roughly the same positions as a human standing on tiptoe. Exactly how far the ankle joint sticks out is variable, though the thigh usually tilts backwards on the more extreme versions.

The foot may be a paw or hoof, or more like a bird's.

Theropod dinosaurs are also digitigrade bipeds- you can just tilt the torso horizontally and add a mostly-rigid tail for balance, with the legs roughly centered between the head and tailtip.

Note that many human positions are impossible or strange-looking for non-plantigrade bipeds unless they have extra joints. They can bend their legs at "mid-thigh" in addition to the hip, but can't bend their "ankles".

They can't sit with their legs crossed or bent, only with their legs fully extended. Kneeling is possible, but it would either basically be a squat with their buttocks resting on the top of their ankle joints, or bending at the mid-thigh, lower legs flat on the ground with the balls of the feet in the air.

Kneeling and sitting would still be strange-looking if they have extra joints, but less so. However, those extra joints offer up all sorts of possibilities for weird positions, especially lying down on their front- with a hinge joint between the metatarsals and tarsals, they could rest the balls of their feet on their buttocks while keeping their shins and thighs parallel to each other and the spine. A condyloid joint in the same place would allow rotating the lower thigh, "shin" and foot independently from each other.

Fashion

Of course, clothing has to be designed specifically for non-human anatomy.

The simplest solution is to simply not have them wear footwear. Of course, footwear is always useful and stylish, not to mention mandatory for full-body clothing like spacesuits.

Socks work pretty well, maybe with holes for claws on the toes. So do high heels, ankle braces and leg warmers.

Knee-high boots also work well with little adaptation- basically just remove the heel from a high-heeled version. (Or keep it and make it longer.)

Shoes that only cover up to the ankle on a human would basically be dog booties, with one or more straps holding a flexible tube onto the foot and lower leg. Hoof boots also exist, and are used on horses.

Pants would work as normal, but they'd need to be roomier and have a seam behind the ankle if they go past the ankle at all.

Toe-claws and hooves could probably be painted with nail polish or manicured.

[fatal-blow]

How Does the Neander Foot Cause Pain?

More well-known as Morton's Foot Syndrome, the Royal Toe, or the Greek Foot, and not to be mistaken with Morton's Neuroma. Here, though, I will be calling it the Neander Foot, based on my own theorized origin of this piece of human anatomy.

But basically. Look. Humans are basically just animals that made themselves into towers and started walking around like that. What happens when a tower has a poor base? It falls. But because animals have muscles and crap, WE don't fall, or at least not in the same way a tower might.

But first, why the Neander Foot? Well, plenty of research has come about Neanderthals, how they interbred with us, and how we carried many of their traits with us from those interbreeding events. It stood out to me, however, that Neanderthals had feet made for sprinting--they were ambush hunters, built for explosions of speed rather than the Terminator-esque persistent hunting that we attribute to ancient Sapiens. This difference is notable in their feet, which were narrow, with elongated toes, and, most importantly for this post, had a short first metatarsal--the bone behind the big toe.

And so it seems their foot anatomy has persisted into modern humans, which has drastic effects on our own mobility.

Here is the anatomy of the typical Sapien foot, the one most well-known and referenced by science and especially the medical community:

And this is the Neander Foot:

In medicine, the Neander Foot is known as Morton's Foot Syndrome, flat-feet, and often leads to what is known as overpronation. Many theories have floated about the cause of this, from malnutrition to improper footwear, but none of these explanations never made sense to me.

While well-adapted for sprinting (many runners have the Neander Foot!) it is poorly adapted for walking. The Sapien Foot is well-made to transfer weight across the foot with ease, making standing and walking low energy. For many with the Sapien Foot, they might be so stable that the phrase "falling asleep on your feet" could apply quite literally!

The Neander Foot on the other hand (foot?)...

There are many other ways someone with the Neander Foot might compensate for their lack of balance. Sometimes, the ankles bend outwards. Some use the middle of the foot for push off, which can cause pain and callouses. Some might even turn their feet inwards. The goal is all the same, though: attempting to force the body into a more stable position.

And regardless of the compensation patterns one might have, they all have the potential to form Triggerpoints--the REAL cause of most aches and pains.

And there are many other conditions that are co-morbid with the Neander Foot, which can make symptoms worse. Hypermobility is one I know intimately--loosened ligaments force the muscles to work even harder to maintain balance, and the combination of Neander Foot and hypermobility could disable someone by the time they're 20.

But the real reason I made this post is not only to explain what is wrong, but also to tell you how to fix it. Triggerpoints are the cause of many, if not most, aches and pains, and are very treatable using methods such as self-massage and targeted physio.

Furthermore, you can modify your shoes to help you stand and walk better! A cut rectangle of moleskin padding, from 3.5-6.0mm thick, can be placed inside the shoe underneath the first metatarsal and the big toe, like this:

This extra padding allows the metatarsal to reach the ground, without having to turn your feet outwards. Many with the Neander Foot (so far my entire family, both my partners, and several friends) find that this padding immediately improves their stability, and even without self-massage have found that their pain lessens and standing and walking become much easier.

If you'd like to know more, feel free to send me asks! I'll also reblog this and attach links and resources where I've learned this information, so y'all can check it out yourself. I'll also include a link to a website that sells insoles designed specifically for Neander Foot--commercial insoles DO NOT address it correctly, and many prescription i soles are very expensive and also fail to address it.

And finally, I am not formally trained in medicine. My experience comes from treating my own disability, treating my mother's disability, and the research and work I've done with my medical care team to address my illness.

[teratart]

Several new photos of theropod fossil from the Early Cretaceous (about 125-113 mln y.o.), found on the bank of the Kiya river in West Siberia three weeks ago.

See my previous post about this dude (by the way, thank you all for attention to my little story! 💚).

So, after a little preparation, we saw a complete set of tubular bones of one leg: thigh, tibia and fibular, metatarsal and phalanges. Another metatarsal and possibly tibia lie below. We can see 5 claw phalanges so far, and they are all pretty similar in shape and size. The bones on the right may be part of the forearm of the same being. Also, izolated fragments of ribs protrude from the sandstone block on the sides. Hopefully, we will be able to do a tomography of the sample soon.

Photos by Yaroslav Zheleznov.

So, the preliminary conclusions so far are as follows: it was a relatively small theropod dinosaur about two meters long. We have not yet found anything that could indicate the diet of this animal, therefore, we cannot say for sure if it was a carnivore or a herbivore. Judging by the length and structure of the legs, the dinosaur was a pretty good runner. And, as I wrote earlier, we have not yet established the taxonomic affiliation of it. So far, a cautious assumption is being put forward that this is some kind of Noasauridae (Elaphrosaurin) dinosaur.

I'll keep you posted if anything clears up.

[idolatrybarbie]

lbs!marcus masterlist

pairing: marcus pike x fem!reader

word count & rating: 1.9k | explicit - minor free zone!

summary: marcus loves you. you love him.

warnings: smut - oral sex (f receiving), sweetness, it's pretty straightforward. thee final installment of you and marcus in fairfax county, va.

You unstrap yourself from your shoes before you even get out of the car. Heels in hand, you pad across the still-frozen ground to the front door. It’s already unlocked, letting you twist the knob and open the door easily. The low buzz of a power drill whines from the shadowy living room, lamps casting a white-yellow glow down the hall to make up for the lack of an overhead fixture.

You left Marcus this morning with a couple pieces of unbuilt Ikea furniture. He decided that a Wednesday in mid-January was the perfect time to use a vacation day and build it all for you. Clearly, he’s still at it. You leave the skyscraper stilettos on the floor beside the coat rack, walking down the hall as a smile paints itself across your face. He is still in his Houston Astros shirt, grey sweatpants shifting as Marcus moves from sitting to kneeling over the small shelf he’s working on.

The floor creaks beneath you, alerting him to your presence.

“Hey babe,” he says, turning to look at you.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Almost done with this. I’ve got a few more screws, and she’ll be all done.”

You love that Marcus refers to things as if they were some grand sea ship, calling everything from the air fryer to this cheap hunk of plywood ‘she.’

“How was work?” Marcus asks.

“Fine. Same old.” Taking another step towards him, you wince. Marcus’ face morphs into a look of concern. “Those heels did a number on me, though.”

You haven’t worn much other than athletic footwear for the last nine months. Comfortable sneakers, supportive running shoes. High heels are the exact opposite of both those things. Not to mention, that specific pair is on the brink of falling apart. But they look so cute, you couldn’t help yourself.

Marcus stands, taking you into his arms. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Let me make you feel better,” he says.

“Marcus, you’ve been working all day,” you say.

“I sat on my ass for two hours watching that political fixer show of yours, which is why I’m not done yet,” Marcus tells you, shaking his head. “I’m fine. You’re not.”

“I’m fine, too.” Yet when you step back, a hiss slithers past your lips.

“You’re not,” he says again. “It’s no trouble. I want to.”

He’s already in your head, reading all the thoughts that pass through. You don’t want to hassle him. It’s no big deal. So on and so forth. He gives you a heart-melting stare, eyes round with softness.

You say, “Okay, yeah,” and he’s practically scooping you into his arms.

Marcus leads you up the stairs to your room with instructions to get on the bed. Laying flat on the mattress takes the pressure off your spine, your body flooding with relief. Marcus gets on his knees, kneeling at the end. He takes one of your feet into his hands, resting it in his lap before he starts to rub at the skin.

He gently works his fingers over your foot, thumb digging into your arch. You sigh at his touch, relaxing further into the pillows. Marcus soothes the ache in your first metatarsal with easy pressure. Standing at an incline for almost ten hours has done a number on your joints, the pain melting away as he continues his massage. You roll your ankle when he moves onto the next foot.

Opening your eyes, you’re quick to notice how Marcus stares at you. Your legs, specifically, thighs wrapped in sheer brown nylon. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning, enraptured, ready to tear you open.

“Like what you see, handsome?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Marcus hums, eyes back on your face in an instant.

“You’re staring at my thigh highs.”

“A man can’t appreciate his girl’s excellent taste in fashion?” he asks.

You remove your foot from his grasp, pressing your toes into the center of his chest. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Marcus Pike has a bit of a stocking fetish.”

At your words, Marcus’ ears grow pink. His whole face is flushed, eyes crinkling as he smiles awkwardly. Realization dawns on you as he reaches to scratch the back of his neck, the conversation effectively dying. He does. You’ve caught him in a net of terrible awkwardness, laying here at an impasse.

“Marcus…”

“I know it’s weird,” he says.

“What? No,” you say. Sitting up, you shake your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You’re alright.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” you assure him.

“Seriously?” Marcus asks.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

Both kneeling before each other, you take his hand and drag it to the side of your leg. The synthetic fabric slips under his fingers. Feeling the texture of the nylon and your soft skin just beneath it stirs something in him. Pressing closer, you feel him hard against your hip.

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him deep and slow. His hands take their place at either side of you, sliding from the stockings up beneath your skirt. Marcus squeezes your ass, palming at you for a moment. Then he slips a finger beneath your underwear, pulling the elastic away from your body only to have it snap in place again.

“What do you want?” you ask, lips right by his ear.

“You,” he whispers. Hands at your waist now, he hugs you impossibly closer. Marcus ruts his hips into yours, breathing heavy. “Fuck…please.”

“If you want me, you have me,” you say.

Marcus pushes you back onto the bed with a little force, following you down. He meets you at the mouth, kissing you before trailing off to your cheek. He presses his lips against your jaw, down to your neck and collarbone. Through the material of your top, he kisses at your chest. Marcus bypasses your torso to mouth at the place where the bottom hem of your shirt and the cotton waistline of your skirt meet. He pulls your shirt up where it’s tucked against your stomach, kissing your belly. You giggle when he licks at the skin, tongue warm.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your new job?” he mumbles into your stomach.

“Hmmm. A little bit,” you say. Marcus nips at the skin over your ribs, making his way up your chest. You gasp quietly, continuing, “Said something about…you like seeing me happy at work.”

“Only part of it,” he says. Marcus has your shirt pushed up to your throat, bra on display for him. He slides a hand beneath you to unclasp the back. It releases from your body easily, letting him push it up and away from your breasts. You’re sure you look ridiculous swamped with clothes at the neck, but Marcus doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s mesmerized with the pattern of your skin.

“What’s the other part, then?” you ask, trying to keep a straight face as he gently pinches at one of your nipples.

“You wear all these cute little outfits…the skirts, the stockings, the heels.” Leaning over, Marcus takes that nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly.

“You like the clothes?”

“You look so good. I can’t help myself. Just wanna—” He interrupts himself, resting his face in the valley between your breasts. Marcus takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of you. “Just wanna bend you over the kitchen counter when I see you get home, take you right then and there.”

“Yeah?” you ask. Rubbing your thighs together does little to relieve the growing ache between them. Picturing your cheek laying against the cool countertop as Marcus hikes up your skirt at a moment’s notice is dangerous. “We should try it out sometime.”

Marcus pauses for a split second, brain registering what you’ve said.

“You’re going to kill me,” he says.

His fingers work to find the clasp of your skirt, unlatching it. Marcus pulls down the zipper at the side of your hip, bringing your underwear down with the other fabric. He follows the line of your leg with his nose as the bottoms slide off your body, getting all the way off the bed and onto the floor with your discarded clothes.

You sit up, both to watch him and to rid yourself of your shirt and bra. Fully undressed now, you note the contrast between his clothed body and yours, starkly nude. Heat creeps through your tummy, wetness reaching the inside of your thighs. You feel like a gift freshly unwrapped; a gourmet cake too good to eat as he regards you with that look. Marcus stares up almost reverently. This man would worship at your altar. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

He leaves your stockings on, nosing against your tibia. Light licks against the skin of your ankle make you shiver. Marcus kisses his way up your left leg, nuzzling the crook of your knee. He rests his chin against your kneecap, eyes focused as he watches you watch him.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

“Today, or in general?”

“Every day,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh. “All day, all of the time.”

His hands inch closer to the middle of your body, fingers feather-light across the swell of skin. Marcus rejoins you on the bed, kisses getting firmer as he reaches level with your cunt. He leaves another kiss to your pelvis, readjusting to drag his tongue against your cunt.

You rub at his shoulders absently, one hand moving sidelong up his neck before fingers twine in his hair. You gasp when he nips at you, catching you off guard with a hint of teeth. You pull at his dark brown strands; Marcus groans against at the feeling. He pushes you further with the slip of a finger inside, gentle but insistent alongside his laps at your clit.

It doesn’t take long for him to have you twisting in bed, gasps stuttering as you tighten your thighs around the sides of his head. He brings you to the very edge before pulling back. Marcus noses at the crease of your thigh, finger smearing against the outer part of your hip as he holds you.

“I thought you were supposed to be making me feel better,” you sigh.

“What if I just like to take my time?” Marcus asks.

“Then I’d have to tell you to hurry it up.”

It’s all in fun. Any sense of pain from earlier has disappeared, Marcus’ soft touch drawing it from you easily. Still, your words spur him on. His finger slips back inside you, middle finger joining Marcus’ index. That little bit more, the faster pace he sets along with the slide of his tongue has you at the edge again in minutes.

He stops when you push him away, thighs twitching, breath ragged. In the time you’ve been with Marcus, you have learned that this is his favourite part. Still hard in his sweatpants, sure, but sated and satisfied. He mouths gently at the slope of your stomach, your hand at the nape of his neck.

Marcus sticks his tongue in your belly button, making you groan.

“You’re so weird,” you say.

“You weren’t complaining like, three minutes ago.”

“Different. You know it’s different.”

“Hmmm,” Marcus hums. He keeps his head halfway between your gut and your lap, breathing slow. “I love you.”

“I know.” He flicks you, hip smarting with the scratch. “I love you too.”

“That’s good.”

He’s right. It is.

[masterwords]

no better place

Summary: “I knew a new puppy was a bad idea.”

or

The time Hotch broke his foot stepping over a brand new puppy and spent the entire holiday season laid up.

Words: 5.7k

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: injuries & surgery, mention of clooney's passing

Notes: So...Comfortember is still happening but this popped into my head and I couldn't get it out so...now it's out there. Chicago Times, old men, Jack is at college and everyone they love comes to help. This should get busy and fun. I want to dive on to SO MUCH comfort. This is Chapter 1 of...many. Probably. I'll make it a landing page later.

****

“Fractured in two places? You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!”

Derek was staring at the x-ray like it had to be a joke. They had to have mixed it up with someone else’s.

“I told you,” Hotch replied with a smug little smile in spite of the fact that it was him sitting on the exam table with his foot draped in icepacks while he waited for the shot of whatever pain killer they’d given him to kick in. Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“How’s that possible? It was one step.”

“I felt a pop. I knew right away.”

“Do we need to check for like, osteoporosis or something, doc? One step…come on. How?” Derek just couldn’t believe it and Hotch was more than a little irritated at how he was reacting. Some part of Derek refused to admit that getting older meant doing less with more consequences, and try as he might to outrun the perils of aging, it couldn’t be done. Still, Hotch wasn’t sure this had as much to do with him being older as it did with just simply landing wrong with his full body weight. He was pretty sure even ten or fifteen years ago it would have ended up with the same result. As if reading Hotch’s mind, the doctor just shook his head and pointed to the two small fractures in the top of Hotch’s foot, a common injury site that had a relatively high healing rate. He’d just begun to feel somewhat comfortable, resigned to his fate of lying on the couch watching the world go by for a couple of weeks when the other shoe dropped.

“This kind of break is extremely common, even in young people. There are a lot of small fragile bones in the foot. The breaks are clean but I am concerned that there are two of them, one in the 4th metatarsal and one in the 5th. This could make organic healing a challenge at your age. I am going to suggest surgery – the procedure would take roughly two hours, it’s an outpatient procedure so you can go home as soon as you’re cleared, and it doesn’t extend the healing time by much. What it would do is strengthen that area and give you the best fighting chance at regaining your active lifestyle.”

“Surgery?” Hotch was at least two full clicks back. The drugs they’d given him were strong and he was out of it. Derek had plenty of experience asking questions and slipped right into that part of his personality that had been neatly folded up and put away since he left the BAU. Suddenly he was Agent Morgan in the interrogation room again.

“What kind of surgery? What’s the prognosis with and without it, doc?”

“Here is the information, everything you could want to know about the procedure and why I am recommending it. If I didn’t know how active the two of you are, I would probably not be pushing for it but this injury could severely impact your lifestyle if it doesn’t heal correctly. And given your age, that’s unfortunately very likely. I’ll step out and give you a moment to look over the paper and talk it over, and then I’ll come in and we’ll splint it up and send you home to rest.”

“Thanks doc.”

Derek didn’t hesitate. He glanced down at Hotch who was lying on the table with his arm thrown over his eyes, and he pulled out his phone. He wasn’t exactly sure what time it was in Thailand but it didn’t matter, he had to call Savannah. Get a second opinion.

“This had better be good,” she said instead of hello. “It is 5am and I still had two hours on my alarm clock, Derek.”

“Good morning beautiful,” he said automatically, a smile on his face. Thirteen hours, he knew now. She was thirteen hours ahead of him and he felt a little bad calling and waking her up, but not bad enough that he wished he hadn’t called. Even when she was grumpy she made him smile. “I won’t keep you long, I just...we had kind of a situation happen and I need your opinion.”

“A medical situation or a Hank situation?”

“Hank’s good, it’s Aaron I’m callin’ about. He broke his foot this morning taking a step weird. Non-contact, two fractures, and Dr. Carter wants to do surgery. What do you think?”

“Did he leave the x-rays in the room?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Send me pictures of them, give me five minutes and I’ll video call you. I want to see him and his foot too okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

She didn’t even take the full five minutes, and when Derek saw her face he breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled at him gently and even in the dark of her room, with no makeup on and her gray flecked hair pulled back in a ponytail, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Has Dr. Carter come back yet?”

“No, just us. They gave Aaron a shot of something that looks pretty powerful and we’ve been waiting for it to kick in. I’d say it’s kicked in, he’s practically dead to the world.”

“Alright. Well I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I agree with Dr. Carter. The fact that it was a non-contact injury makes me a little concerned about it happening again, and putting a couple of screws in there is going to help make sure it doesn’t by helping it heal correctly. There are no guarantees, but this would be the recommendation to just about any athlete with an injury like this. What’s your hesitation?”

“Last time he was under, his heart stopped.”

“That was a traumatic situation and emergency surgery to correct internal bleeding, Derek, not a scheduled outpatient foot surgery. I know you worry but this is a low-risk situation.”

“So you’d do it?”

“I would. Can I talk to him?”

Derek brought the phone to the side of the exam table and tapped on Hotch’s arm, rousing him. He hadn’t been sleeping, exactly, just zoning out somewhere in the caverns of his mind. “Yeah?” he rasped, lifting his arm to look at Derek. What he saw instead was Derek’s phone and Savannah’s smiling face and he followed her lead with his own sleepy, slow smile. “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself,” she said. “How you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Yeah. They gave you the elephant tranquilizers huh?”

“Guess so.”

“Good.”

“Do you want me to have the surgery?” he asked, blinking slowly. There was only one reason she’d be looking at him right now and even if he couldn’t remember Derek calling her or any of their conversation that had happened right beside him, he knew that much.

“I do. Ultimately it’s your choice, but I agree with Dr. Carter.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” Derek asked, staring at Hotch with a look of pure confusion. Hotch just shrugged. “No fight?”

“I trust Savannah.”

“Okay then. Guess we’re scheduling surgery.” Derek’s mind hadn’t quite caught up to where they were at, not really. How they’d gone from his complete disbelief that there could be any broken bones at all to having two of them and surgery on the horizon was beyond him. He wanted to laugh and cry over the absurdity of it.

“Let me know when the surgery is. I’ll see if I can get some time off to come help with Hank.”

“Thank you,” Hotch said, throwing his arm back over his eyes to shield them from the harsh overhead lights. His head was pounding...it didn’t exactly hurt, not through the fog of the drugs, but it was annoying and the darkness made it stop. It didn’t do much to alleviate the intense throbbing in his foot though. That, he knew, he was stuck with for the foreseeable future.

Derek said goodbye to Savannah and hung up, shoving his phone back into his pocket before leaning down and kissing Hotch’s elbow. Hotch hummed in response and Derek only sighed miserably, already beginning a mental checklist of everything he would have to do to get their house ready. Moving furniture, getting a shower chair, installing bars in the bathroom. He would have to take time off of work, talk to his mom, call Penelope and tell her their trip back to Virginia was canceled until further notice. There was so much to do he didn’t hear the doctor knock before re-entering the room. “I knew a new puppy was a bad idea.”

It had only taken a week for him to come to that conclusion. One week ago things had been good, everything was on track for a vacation and a busy holiday season until the dog.

“A puppy?” Derek asked when Desiree brought her over, ready to convince him that it was time. She only shrugged and smiled, holding the tiny little ball of fluff up to Derek’s face. A black sable German Shepherd, all dark fur laced with enchanting bits of tan and silver and red. She stared at him curiously with dark eyes and he already knew he was going to have a hard time saying no, something about her already seemed to know him and love him. It made his chest ache. Clooney had been gone for a couple of years now, he’d been in good enough shape to live longer than a dog his size should have and Derek had almost convinced himself Clooney might be able to live forever. Until he didn’t, and while the years had padded his grief some and their little family had moved on from tears to reluctant acceptance, he wasn’t sure he was ready to get another dog. To replace Clooney.

“She’s not a replacement, Derek,” Desi said, shoving the dog into his arms. “I loved that old fool too, but Jack’s gone off to college and Hank needs someone to play with. You guys could use a guard dog living in that neighborhood.”

Derek regarded the puppy with her floppy ears and huge chunky paws. “A guard dog?”

“Oh, Derek come on. She’s basically Clooney’s granddaughter or something. I don’t know how dog breeding works but her mom is related to Clooney somehow.. Just take her for a week, test it out. If she doesn’t work out I’ll find someone else or take her myself.”

“Why aren’t they training her?”

“She’s a little broken, just like you like ‘em.”

She was bred for duty as a K9 but she had a small heart defect that, while the vet assured them it wouldn’t affect her quality or duration of life, would preclude her from duty as a K9 cop. Desi’s fiance was one of the K9 officers and was trying to get her help to find families for the dogs they couldn’t use. “One week.”

The very first day, she peed inside of Derek’s favorite running shoes and chewed up the toe of Hotch’s pair. Lesson learned, no more shoes beside the door. She wasn’t terribly destructive after that, though she did do a lot of peeing on the wood floor. Hank played in the yard with her for hours, chasing her and playing fetch, and at one point while he watched and found himself softening up to the idea, Derek wasn’t sure who exactly was fetching.

“I don’t want a puppy,” Derek said as they crawled into bed that first night. Already his resolve had weakened but he wasn’t there yet. He would be sad to give her back, sure, but he would still do it. “She’s cute, I’ll give her that...but a puppy? We’re getting ready to fly to Virginia...what do we do with a puppy?”

“Let’s give her a chance. I don’t want a puppy either but Hank seems very motivated to help. Maybe we can use this as a tool, he’s old enough for a little responsibility.”

“He’s seven, he ain’t trainin’ no puppy.”

“I don’t mean that, but he can feed her and take her into the backyard when she needs to go out. He can keep her brushed. He could probably teach her a few little tricks.”

“You’ve gone soft in your old age.”

Hotch had no argument for that, he knew he had. And he supposed it was his right to do so, he’d been gruff and stern far too long. He simply smiled and nestled down beneath the blankets. It was getting cold. “I know you miss Clooney. I do too, every day. She wouldn’t replace him. No dog could ever. But it might be nice having another dog around.”

Derek tried to enjoy the puppy, but her bark grated on his nerves and the peeing in the house was about to drive him crazy. Hotch wasn’t crazy about any of that either but he was trying to maintain his status as good cop to Derek’s bad cop at least for the week.

And then Hotch fell. Well, he didn’t exactly fall, that was the part that Derek was the most bothered by. He never hit the ground, that would have made more sense. He just stepped wrong. Coming up the back porch steps after taking the as yet unnamed puppy out in the early morning, he hopped up the slick steps to the back deck like usual. The same way he took the steps every day, except this time a puppy made a mad dash and darted beneath his feet to chase a bird that landed in the yard. He pivoted on the slick wood to avoid stepping on her and landed with all of his weight on his lead foot at an unnatural angle. He knew right away his foot was broken, or maybe his ankle, that part he didn’t know. But it was broken, that he was sure of. He felt a sickening pop that released a wave of pain that coursed from his toes to his knee. It took everything in his power not to collapse right there on the spot. Instead he just let out a low groan and limped pathetically back into the house like a lame animal, waiting for the puppy to follow him inside before shutting the door and falling into a kitchen chair. Derek found him at the table with his head down ten minutes later, just breathing through the worst of it.

“What’s up?” He asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He looked down at the puppy sitting at Hotch’s feet and thought she had a strangely sad or guilty look about her.

“I think I broke my foot,” Hotch said from inside of his arms. The act of talking made him feel dizzy and sick, his hands were shaky. He knew he was in some kind of shock. “Could you get me some ice please? I can’t walk.”

“Can’t walk? Broke your foot? How? It’s 7am man.”

Derek went to the kitchen and rummaged through the freezer for an ice pack quickly, confused and trying to reason out what could possibly have happened in the thirty minutes since Hotch had gotten out of bed. Walking back to the table, the look of confusion plastered on his face, he watched Hotch slide his foot gingerly out of his slipper with shaking hands and he saw it right away. His ankle and the top of his foot were already swelling, the color changing from pale to a pinkish red. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “You’re gonna have to talk to me here.”

“I was coming up the stairs,” Hotch said quietly, taking the ice and setting it on his foot now propped up on the chair beside him. The pressure from the icepack hurt and he had to put his head down again to ride out another wave of intense nausea. “She got under foot. I didn’t want to step on her so I just shifted a little and landed funny.”

“So you didn’t even fall?”

“No.”

“Probably just sprained…”

“I felt it pop Derek.”

It didn’t seem possible, but Derek made the call to Hotch’s doctor’s office to see if they could get him in today to check it out. Neither of them wanted to go to the Urgent Care and sit for hours, it wasn’t exactly an emergency. The pain came and went, a little ibuprofen at least took the edge off and Derek didn’t have any problem helping him from the kitchen to the living room so he could lay down on the couch to try and rest off the shock. From there they waited. His doctor was able to fit him in for an appointment in late afternoon with an x-ray scheduled first, they just had to stay comfortable until then. Derek still couldn’t believe it.

“It can’t be broken.”

Derek couldn’t bear to watch the x-ray, watching them move Hotch’s foot into positions that caused him pain. He was in the room but he couldn’t look. Still, the longer the day wore on and Hotch’s condition didn’t seem to improve the way it might have if it was a sprain, he began to come around on the whole broken idea – they wanted to put Hotch in a wheelchair and he didn’t argue. If it was a sprain he would have been walking on it. He might be getting up there in age but he was still tough as nails – they’d both suffered their fair share of strains and sprains as a natural side effect of their active lifestyle, so for this to take Hotch down...he knew it had to be big, he just couldn’t wrap his mind around it being this bad over nothing. Over a misstep. Because that meant it could have happened to him too, it meant that they had to be more careful with their bodies, it meant they needed to get into even better shape...he didn’t know. It unsettled every bit of comfort he’d developed over the last few years.

The worst part was, he found himself blaming the puppy. When they told him Hotch couldn’t walk for two weeks and he should spend most of that time resting, meaning he would have to take on extra work around the house, meaning they would have to reschedule their trip to Virginia to visit Penelope and the rest of their friends. Meaning a whole hell of a lot of things, all because Desi convinced him a puppy might be fun.

Well she was going to hear about this, because his idea of fun didn’t involve broken bones and crutches.

“We’re not keeping her,” Derek said as he helped Hotch from the wheelchair into the waiting car. There was no comfortable way for a man of his height to sit in any car with a broken foot, but they didn’t have far to go and Hotch didn’t complain even if Derek could tell he was uncomfortable. “Two more days and Desi can find someone else to take her.”

“Derek…”

Derek didn’t answer, and didn’t look at Hotch because that might wear him down. Hotch had obviously already become attached to the little thing in spite of the predicament she’d caused him. To avoid having to look at Hotch, he swung them through their favorite place to get milkshakes and bought them a treat before driving home in silence. He didn’t want to be so cruel but this wouldn’t have happened if not for the puppy, and now he had to call Penelope and tell her they weren’t coming to visit, that they instead had to spend a week preparing for surgery and then six to eight weeks (or more) recovering from it. It was going to crush her. She’d been preparing for their visit for weeks now.

“I’ll come to you!” she said, without hesitation. “You’re going to need the help and I have plenty of vacation time saved up. I was going to take the whole week you guys were here off anyway...I’ll get a plane ticket right now. How does two weeks sound? Is that too long? Is that long enough?”

“Babygirl, you don’t have to spend your vacation taking care of us.”

“I know, silly, but I want to. Let me. Please. I miss you both so much and you’re going to need the help.”

He found it impossible to say no to her, and by the time their conversation was over he had a time to pick her up from the airport on his calendar for the next morning and a little more peace in his heart. He knew she was going to convince him to keep the puppy too, but she would help him take care of Hotch and he could use her support. As soon as he was off of the phone, he went to tell Hotch they were about to have company and found him sleeping with the puppy lying on the floor beneath the couch looking up at him as he breezed through the room. She still looked sad and guilty, like she knew what happened. He felt a little bad for her so he scooped her up into his arms and gave her a kiss on the head, called her a good girl, took her outside to pee and called Jack while he sat out there waiting for her to do her business.

“Broken?! I’m gone for two months and my dad breaks his foot?!”

“It was a freak accident. He’s okay though, I’d let you talk to him but he’s sleeping on the couch.” The puppy was sleeping on his lap now, stretched out across his thighs like she owned the place. Derek had to admit that was sweet and he wondered if she knew, in some way. If she felt responsible. She’d been a little extra clingy since they got home, staying close to Hotch for no real reason he could account for. And the minute he’d allowed it, she was up on his lap.

“Do you need me to come home?”

“Absolutely not. You’re in your first semester of college, man. You don’t have to worry about us.”

“Apparently I do!”

“No, Jack, you don’t. I got it. Plus my whole family’s here, we got Jess...who I have to call next...and Penelope’s flying out. You stay in New York, be a kid out on his own, don’t worry about your old men. We’re fine.”

“Will you have him call me when he wakes up?”

“Sure thing.”

Jessica was livid. About what, she didn’t really have words, mostly just that he was hurt and he didn’t call her. “How much time should I take off?”

“You don’t have to take any time off. Just come by when you can. Penelope’s gonna be here tomorrow and she’s staying for two weeks. My mom and sisters are gonna help.”

“I’m coming by tonight with dinner, do not cook. We’ll make a game plan then.”

“Jess…”

“Derek, he’s my brother. Let me help.”

Derek sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the help, he knew they were going to need it, it was just that he was starting to feel the crushing weight of being a burden to everyone he loved. He could only imagine how it was all going to make Hotch feel once he woke up and became aware of the situation. He was glad that all Hotch knew right now was whatever dreams he was floating through and the warm weight of the puppy on his legs.

His mom and sisters showed up with bags of groceries in their arms and a truckload of pillows stuffed into giant trash bags. “What’s all this?”

“Go get the walker from my car,” Fran said, handing Derek the keys. “It’s folded in the trunk.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

There was a walker, a shower chair and a small brown bag full of gel ice packs all stuffed into the trunk of her car. He scooped it all up in his arms and made his way back into the house, hoping they were all being quiet enough not to wake Hotch.

“What’d you do, rob the old folks home?”

“This belonged to your grandma, it’s been up in my attic since her hip surgery two years ago. I knew it would come in handy. Just needs a good wash.”

Desiree was looking at the puppy on Hotch’s lap while Sarah pulled out the lysol wipes and began cleaning up the dusty old medical gear. “You’re going to need to move this furniture around, make the walkways bigger.”

“I know.”

“And put some bars on the walls in the bathroom. Probably two near the toilet and another two in the shower.”

“I know, Sarah.”

“Hey, don’t take that tone with me. I’m just trying to help.” Sarah had spent the first few years of her adult life working in retirement and assisted living facilities, she knew all of the ins and outs. He was lucky to have her experience even if he didn’t exactly want it right now. He just wanted this all to go away.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m going to do some shopping tomorrow to get everything I need.”

“You have a week. I’ll help.”

“I got it,” he said a little indignantly. He could manage the repairs on his house himself, it was the only part of this whole thing he felt like he did have any control over. The only part he knew how to handle. But the look Sarah gave him was equally as stubborn, and he knew that whatever came out of her mouth next was going to crush his chances of doing it himself.

“He needs you to be available to help him, which means you can’t be out and about at the hardware store and punching holes in the walls. I know you got that whole Mister Fix-It thing you like to do, but you have to step back this time little brother. Your husband needs you.”

Yeah, he saw that coming. She knew how to break him down. He didn’t even recognize it until the tears were burning in his eyes and she was pulling him in for a hug.

“It’s all going to be fine,” she said quietly, patting his back. “He’s going to be okay. You’re just going to have to slow down for a while. It’ll be good for both of you.”

He nodded and tried to stop himself from crying but it was no use, and that was what Hotch woke up to. The sight of his sister consoling him beside a living room full of medical equipment that hadn’t been there earlier.

“Derek?” he asked, his voice a hoarse sleepy whisper. “What’s the matter?”

Derek sniffled a little and sucked it up, puffing up his chest and flashing Hotch his best smile. “Nothing. All good. How you doing? Can I get you something?”

Hotch scrunched up his nose and considered the questions but they were too much in the soupy mess of his brain. He let his hand settle on the puppy’s chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her ribs and smiled.

“I think she likes me,” he whispered and Derek let out a laugh.

“I think she feels guilty.”

“For what?” Hotch asked and Derek just shook his head. Of course Hotch wouldn’t look at it like that.

“Nothing…” he said, brushing it off. “Let me get you some water.”

“Already on it!” Sarah called, rushing toward the kitchen. Hotch blinked stupidly around the room, as if realizing for the first time that it was packed with people. Fran and Desiree were moving furniture out of the way and unpacking what looked like every throw pillow they could find in Fran’s house.

“Ma, what did you do?” Derek asked as the pillows tumbled out of the bag. Fran just laughed.

“These are my extras.”

“I think you got a problem…”

“I don’t see you complaining when you come sit on my furniture.”

“What am I gonna do with a thousand Christmas throw pillows?”

“Prop your husband’s foot up, make him comfortable. He’s going to be laid up through the season so I thought it should be festive. I’ll bring over all of my good Christmas blankets in the morning but they had to go through the wash.”

“Ma…”

“Hush. Don’t you ma me, now sit down with him while we put this place together. I took care of your grandmother for six months while she healed, one of your sisters is in med school and the other has worked as a caregiver for years. I’d say we’re experts and you are simply in our way.”

“Ma.”

“Shh. Hush. We’ll make you a list of things to get done when we leave, but for now...sit.”

“I see why you’re so bossy…” Hotch whispered, sitting up enough to allow Derek room to squeeze in behind him before he leaned back against the brick wall he called a husband. Derek’s arms draped over his shoulders and circled him.

“You boys want me to turn on the TV?” Fran asked and Hotch was about to say something when Derek shook his head.

“No. Just do your thing.”

Hotch wouldn’t have minded the television on, it would have provided a distraction from the intense throbbing in his foot, but if Derek didn’t want it on he must have had a reason so he just lay there against him petting the puppy as he waited.

“Penelope’s flying in tomorrow morning,” he said, and Hotch nodded. He had already assumed that would be the case. No way they could cancel on her for this reason and have her just say okay, maybe another time. “She’s going to stay for a few weeks and help out. That cool?”

“Do I have a choice?” He asked it quietly but with a soft smile. Derek just shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Then yes, it’s cool. Anything else?”

“Jess is bringing dinner tonight. She wants to talk.”

“I figured as much. You made yourself busy while I slept. Did you call Jack?”

“Of course. He wants you to call him. Kid’s probably got a plane ticket ready to buy so you should do that soon. Tell him he’s forbidden to come home until his holiday breaks.”

“I’m sorry Derek,” Hotch said, his voice quiet and thick with emotion. Derek didn’t have to look at him to know he was crying, and part of that was the drugs they’d given him in the office but the rest...well that was just Hotch. He felt things so damn deeply.

“For what?”

“Don’t,” Hotch whispered, reaching up to swipe the tears from his cheeks. “You know why.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Shit happens. We’re gonna be fine.” He knew Hotch wasn’t worried about himself, he was worried about how this was going to inconvenience everyone around him. All of the tasks he was responsible for around the house, taking Hank to school in the mornings, assistant coaching his basketball team, taking trips and Christmas shopping and sledding and...all of it gone. “We might never be alone again...but we’ll be fine. Come on,” Derek said, twisting around so he could look at Hotch. “Don’t cry. Come on. It’s gonna be hard but we’ve done hard things before.”

“I know.”

“Will you stop crying if I say we can keep the damn dog?”

Hotch scrunched his nose and sniffed, a little insulted that Derek was talking to him like he was a child. But it was also funny enough to make him smile. Glancing down at the dog, he patted her on the top of the head and let his hand rest there heavily. He didn’t have the strength to do much more. The drugs in his system were making time lag, making his body heavy and bone tired. They didn’t do much for the pain that drove in waves from his knee to his toes, but they did make him find it hard to care or focus there long.

“You hear that Paige? He says you can stay. I knew he’d come around.”

“Paige?” Derek asked, his voice cautiously quiet. Hotch had named the puppy. He clearly had no plans to give her back whether Derek had agreed to it or not.

Hotch hummed happily and nodded. “Satchel Paige. She loves the baseball Hank throws for her.”

“When did you decide all of this?”

“This morning. Outside. Was going to tell you, but...”

“Yeah,” Derek said, smiling down at her, finding that he’d been stroking her soft fur for the last few minutes absentmindedly. She was so warm, breathing slowly, nestled in against Hotch’s thighs. “I guess you had other things on your mind.” Satchel Paige. Paige. Something about her having a name that meant something to both of them, a link between them, the first member of their family that would come from their own union...it softened him up. And when she snorted and twitched her ear and stretcher her legs out stick straight before curling back up around her cold little nose, he knew there was no way he would have ever been able to give her back either. Hotch just knew it first.

“It isn’t her fault, you know,” Hotch whispered, running his fingers up her fuzzy little snout. He was already in love. “Look at her.

“I know. It just sucks, man. I hate seein’ you in pain.”

Hotch smiled and leaned back, closing his eyes. The world had taken on a foggy, unreal quality that made him feel dizzy. He sank into Derek and grounded himself against his solid form. “I’m alright. Just tired.”

“Then sleep. Jess will be here soon, then you can both call Jack together. I’m not allowed to move anyway...you might as well take advantage of this.”

Hotch didn’t need to be told twice, he was drifting off by the time Derek finished talking.

[medievalsnippets]

Armour of the English Knight: 1410-1425

Source: Armour of the English Knight 1400-1450

Helmet: A number of variations and modifications to the bascinet are in progress by the early fifteenth century. The stout of the visor is tending to become more rounded or blunted, while plate armour for the neck and shoulders is appearing in several new exploratory forms. One characteristic form of this second trend is the 'aventail of plate', a piece of armour covering the same area as did the mail aventail, but which is composed of a set of hoop-like plates, producing a more rigid defence which yet provides a similar level of mobility.

Cuirass: The one-piece breastplate itself remains largely unchanged, while the plate protection for the back is evolving rapidly. The hinged side-plates which formerly covered only a small area around the kidneys have now been enlarged to form the two halves of a solid structure joining down the centre of the back. The cuirass skirt tends by now to be worn as a seperate armour part, hanging down from a waist-plate underlapping the upper body armour. At the front a triangular skirt extension provides additional protection to the groin.

Spaulders: The shoulder plates remain essentially unchanged, being generally composed of a main plate positioned above either one or two articulation lanes. One important new enhancement takes the form of the besagews, circular or oval plates which significantly increase the amount of front protection for the shoulders, without significantly reducing mobility. The besagews are either attached to the spaulders, by means of a short internal leather, or tied to the mail worn under the plates.

Arm and Leg Defences: A significant variation introduced around 1410 is the substitution of applied disks or 'rondels' in place of integral side-wings. In some cases, the demi-cuisse is omitted, making the poleyn inseparable from the cuisse.

Gauntlets: Unchanged.

Sabatons: A solid heel plate seems to have been introduced by 1410, if not earlier. The metatarsal overplate is sometimes omitted.

Decoration: One notable variation is the inclusion of an engraved border on the outside surface of the upper cannon without a corresponding border on the lower cannon. In these cases a border is sometimes placed around the bottom edge of the lower cannon just above the wrist.

[ihavetoomuchhomeworkforthis]

Sorry the 2nd one is rotated

Idk if having the arms bisected like that would help, or make everything weirder. I feel like it's easier to imagine what it would be like to have wings like that, since we already have all the same shoulder and upper arm musculature, but idk if it's functionally easier. I'm also honestly not sure if these designs would work at all (aka if any versions of this humanoid would actually be flight capable). Please don't judge the first page too much, those are just sketched ideas from before I googled actual anatomy references, the second page is more finalized

Could somebody who has more anatomy knowledge and/or more experience with this stuff maybe take a look and tell me what you think?

(All the stuff under the cut here is from before I added everything above, just so you know)

I'm trying to figure out some avian humanoid designs. Not really avian, they're much more batlike than birdlike. Or maybe reptilian, I haven't quite decided. Humanoids with the ability to fly (or at least glide).

Oh, Google says the word for that is volant.

Anyway, so I was thinking they'd have two forearms branching off of a primary wrist joint, with the radius and ulna of the human forearm being like the index and middle fingers, and the radius and ulna of the long extended wing forearm being like the ring and pinky fingers. If the first "hand" was stuck in a permanent Vulcan salute. This first wrist would also have a thumb (although on the other side of the hand from usual with how I've described it), which would provide more support for the wing membrane. The human forearm would terminate in a functional human hand, while the wing forearm would have a very flexible (secondary) wrist that divides into very looong fingers all connected by the wing membrane, just like how a bat has. The wing membrane would go all the way from the batlike fingers to the thumb of the primary wrist, and then continue to connect down the length of the torso, ending at the hips. (Sort of like how a bat looks, just not continuing all the way to the feet too.)

For the legs, there are several options, but I narrowed it down to two. Maybe 3.

The first idea was that there would be a second set of legs connecting to the knees, like how the arm split into two forearms, and webbing membrane connecting from there to the ankles. This seems most practical clothing-wise, and least practical regarding actual flight because it's not THAT much more surface area. The second idea was basically the same, but connecting at the hip (upper hip, almost to where they'd look like "shoulders") and with another knee, so that you have membrane for kicking/gliding all the way from the hips to both sets of ankles. The final variant of this was that the second set of (winglike) legs would connect at the hips as described, skip straight to a long tibia and tibia (maaaybe with a very short femur and knee first just for more maneuverability), and then have a wrist/ankle leading to long flight phalanges that could curl up a bit while just walking. I also thought that the primary feet would be extra long and flipperlike too (with extra long toes and more webbing), and that they'd walk mostly on "tiptoe" (metatarsals in the air like how cats walk).

The other idea was more reptilian looking, and more accurate to the appearance of bird tails: their spine would continue on into a long tail, and both (human) legs would individually connect to the tail from the hips to the ankles for one big sail. This idea was most limiting clothing and movement-wise, but affords probably the most wing surface area for the least additional skeletonage. The way I've drawn it looks a bit stupid though.

[chillychive]

Greetings friend.

What piece of non canon Trek lore do you forget is not canon?

also, can I steal your metatarsals?

Well for one, everything u created about terran culmets. I was watching the end of S1 today and I was soo confused when Paul shows up and then is confused and doesn't recognize HUGH. Like... what?? It was weird.

I also saw the part where they run out of spores and have to use their entire crop to escape the Mirror universe and I kept expecting Paul to have a necklace with a sample of the spores just in case around his neck and he didn't and then I remembered that's also something from a fanfic.

Also Tracy & Paul being friends...

I often forget that Q & Picard weren't supposed to be this homoerotic relationship that somehow manages to have a ton of tension AND seems like an old married couple at the same time?? Idk.

[theadventurerslog]

The Curse of Monkey Island | The A-mfggh-C's of a Bonus Part

I realized I kept forgetting to use the Ventriloquist Book on people and there are several opportunities. Unfortunately, I'd missed at least one.

So, this part is dedicated to bothering everyone I can on Puerto Pollo. I reloaded an early file to grab those I couldn't anymore, mainly Rottingham, and then back to my current file to get the rest.

I also took the opportunity to catch some of Slappy Cromwell's rehearsal lines as I wasn't getting them before. Actually, I suspect what may have happened is that I went up to the lights control panel before going to the stage and some of his dialogue may have happened there and then when I did go to the stage it acted like it had run through everything already and just gave me the boring mutters.

Anyway, a couple fun lines from Slappy although there are many:

'A pirate, by any other name, would still reek! Aargh!'

"Act IV, scene 8, 'Join me, Rosencrantz! I am your FATHER!'"

Of course they had to get in a Star Wars reference.

Using the book on him causes Guybrush to pretend the other actor is insulting him.

"You're no actor! Get off the stage, ya bum!"

And the other actor protests saying anything when Slappy is insulted.

Next up: Rottingham!

'Make my head shine like a cue ball.'

And McMutton starts to agree before Rottingham protests. Besides annoying Rottingham which is always a good thing, I guess that's a clue too, since you do need to make him bald to get him out.

Then I reloaded my current file. And it was time for my favourite: Murray!

"Mooooo..."

"I am Moosferatu, the demonic Jersey Cow."

And Murray is thrilled! "Free me, and I shall forever be your faithful neither-worldly servant!"

Guybrush laughs and says he got him. Murray just splutters a "You!"

Now where's that game? The Diabolical Adventures of Mooseferatu and Murray...

I had to stop by Kenny Falmouth:

"Hey everybody, I'm a snot-nosed, devious, little con-man!"

I suppose Guybrush is still feeling sour on that bottomless mug policy.

I stopped by Blondebeard for another fun one.

"Braaakkk!"

"It is I, the spirit of El Pollo Diablo!"

Blondebeard was ready...ish.

"Back! Back you fowl demon!"

Heee.

Guybrush lets up on the joke and Blondebeard just laughs a bit and calls him a scamp. Much the same as he did when popping the gum bubble to get his tooth out. He is rather good-natured, really.

You can use it on "Manny", the Grim Fandango reference skeleton too.

"Waiter, what's this metatarsal doing in my soup?"

I would guess that's a reference as well? But I don't remember Grim Fandango well enough to say I'm afraid. If someone knows tell me!

And finally, I went to go bother the Cabana Boy, also always worth doing.

"I'm sorry for being rude. Please feel free to slap me, and then feel free to make full use of the club."

There's actually a clue in what you'll end up doing in there too...

And so that's a little aside to bother all of Puerto Pollo's residents. Nearly. There is one more character I've not met yet to try it on...

And of course, there's still the puzzle that actually requires it!

For now, it's back to the regular posts. I just really like messing with that book, but I kept forgetting. And I didn't want to clutter up one of my main posts which get long enough as is.

[koi0boi]

Opinions on:

Teeth?

The pancreas?

Metatarsals?

Pancakes with lots of butter?

Flour?

The large intestine?

Teeth are great and if my dentist takes anymore of them i swear to god-

Pancreas's are pretty sick, one of my favorite glands for sure i love a bitch who secretes

Metatarsals? Hate em, who needs feet just float

I don't like pancakes (Waffle Supremacy)

On the list of my favorite white powders flour is pretty low tbh i mean it can't get you high, it doesn't taste good, and it can kill someone but its not really efficient. Any of my white powder needs will but fulfilled much better by coke(of the powder variety), sugar (also of the powder variety), or anthrax. It is better then baby powder tho I'll give flour that

Bro i love internal organs, the large intestine being no exception. You know those garlands you hang on walls during winter holidays? I think we should use the large intestine in the same way but for halloween rather. I also really want to untangle someones internal organs and i think the large intestine will be quite fun to rip out (i don't actually have plans to untangle someones organs... unless someones offering).

Thanks for the questions! This was quite delightful!