#green shell semi-slug

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Green Shell Semi-Slug: the researchers who discovered this species originally wanted to name it "Ibycus felis," because it often rests with its tail curled around its body, which reminded them of a sleeping cat

The Latin name of this species is Ibycus rachelae, but it's also known as a green-shelled or long-tailed semi-slug. The species was first described in 2008, and it is found only in the montane forests of Sabah (Borneo) and Peninsular Malaysia.

The term "semi-slug" refers to an intermediate stage of evolution as a snail evolves into a slug. These snails still have shells that are at least partially visible, but they have been reduced to the point where the shell can no longer accommodate the snail's whole body. There are many different species of semi-slug, but most of them have a noticeably reduced, receding, and/or transparent shell that is partially concealed beneath the mantle.

This article describes another peculiar characteristic of semi-slugs (including Ibycus rachelae):

... semi-slugs don’t just look weird, they act weird, too. They employ sharp projectiles called love darts in their courtship rituals, by shooting several of them at a prospective mate. The mate, in turn, shoots several love darts right back.

Researchers have found that if semi-slugs are able to lodge love darts into one another, the subsequent copulation tends to be much more successful. It’s thought that the mucus distributed by the love dart ensures greater survivability of the sperm

This is what the "love darts" look like (when magnified under SEM):

The tiny, harpoon-like structures are made of calcium carbonate, and they transmit certain hormones (via mucus) that help to increase the likelihood of reproductive success. Semi-slugs are not the only gastropods that use "love darts," however; they are also used by some other land snails and slugs.

Sources & More Info:

World Wildlife Fund: Borneo's New World (PDF)

Basteria (Journal): The Slugs and Semislugs of Sabah, Malaysian Borneo (PDF)

Forest Research Institute Malaysia: Introduction to the Land Snails and Slugs of Malaysia (PDF)

Malay Peninsular Terrestrial Molluscs: Ibycus rachelae

Live Science: World's Longest Bug and 'Ninja' Slug Discovered in Borneo

Australian Geographic: Meet the Semi-Slug, a Snail without a Home

[herpsandbirds]

Green Semi-slug (Ibycus rachelae), family Helicarionidae, endemic to Borneo

Semi-slugs have small partial shells that are either partially or completely covered by part of the mantle.

photographs: Menno Schilthuizen, Albert Kang, terraincognita96, Tropenschnecken.ch, Nick Volpe

[polycoins]

  🪙 slug zoophilia

slug zoophilia: a flag for the romantic or sexual attraction to slugs, both land slugs, sea slugs, and semi-slugs (gastropods with shells too small to retract into).

a flag for paraphiles.

🥬original flag requested by anonymous

[image id: flag with 7 unevenly sized horizontal stripes, in the colors umber, teal, ochre, yellow, ochre, teal, and umber. in the center is a grey-green slug, curled in the shape of a heart, outlined in brown. /end id]

  📥 requests open!   📬 for anonymous   🔗 hd vector

🧺——— designed by red bishop council

[s1lv3rp4w3dc4t]

I accidentally reblogged homestuck again I'll never recover from this horrible loss- oh hi green shelled semi-slug

[onenicebugperday]

Puerto Rican semi-slug, Gaeotis flavolineata, Amphibulimidae

Semi-slugs are land gastropods whose shells are too small to retract into, but are not quite vestigial (as with true slugs). The opaque green area seen in the middle of the body in the photos above is the shell.

Photos 1-4 by logancrees, 5-6 by gloriveenieves, 7 by stevemaldonadosilvestrini, and 8-10 by juliakmil

[dearsnails]

Do snails go to snail university? Snuniversity? Do they wear graduation caps on their shells or their antennae? Also what about the capes? What subjects would a snuniversity offer?

s[ID: A drawing of a green snail with a dark green shell. There's a miniature graduation cap on each eye stalk, and it's wearing a black cape. END ID]

okay sorry i'm obsessed with the idea of wearing the graduation caps on the antennae. how do they stay on. how do they see

anyway in terms of subjects i think we've got:

- munching and crunching 101

- the art of slime trails

- shells throughout time (slugs, semi slugs, snails, and more)

and perhaps more...

[wonderoflandsnails]

Long-Tailed Semi-slug (Ibycus rachelae)

This small green creature isn't actually a snail or a slug, but something in-between. A semislug! It has a little shell that isn't quite big enough to withdraw into. This species lives in Borneo and has the common name of the "long-tailed slug" or the "green ninja slug."

Etsy | DeviantArt | Instagram

[marveliter]

Invincible

Summary:  Roberta Ross has the best life living with her mother and spending the summer with her best friend, but what happens when a certain someone shows up and flips her life upside down? She's asked to join a team of incredible people and fight alongside her incredible father, but does she want to?

CHAPTER ONE Characters: OC + Marvel characters Warnings: ocean, underwater snorkeling, barracuda & rash A/N: wow okay first story on here! I've tried doing stories before, so I hope this one works out! I'm much better on wattpad, and if you guys are interested in checking it out I can link it in the next chapter (if there will be one). Enjoy :)

If I could go anywhere in the entire world, anywhere I wanted, I'd stay right where I am. I don't want to go far for college, I don't want to move out of state, I want to stay in Key Largo, Florida, my home. I've lived here all my life and never see myself leaving. The beach is my second home, my safety; I don't fear anything under the dark blue waters. The unsolved mysteries of the ocean don't frighten me, it inspires me, motivates me to learn and solve. I imagine being a marine biologist and discovering a new species of fish or crustacean. Of course, I couldn't do it alone.       "What are we looking for today, Captain?" Ollie shouts from the steering wheel. I turn around from the bow of the boat, letting the wind fling my brown hair over my shoulders. The wind was casting Ollie's long brown hair behind him. My hair was longer than his shoulder-touching curls, but his was brighter thanks to spending numerous days in the sun. His smile was wide with lines and perfect white teeth. His eyes were darker than the ocean, a nice pristine dark blue almost laced with black.        I smile and turn my head out to the big blue ocean, letting the choppy sound of the engine fill my ears and the small spray o ocean hit my cheeks.        "Out there," I call back to him, pointing to dark rocks that just peak out from the waves.       "Great choice, Cap," Ollie shouts. The boat lightly swerves to the left, and soon we are a yard or so from the rocks.       Ollie cuts the engine and emerges from the steering wheel.       "Can't get too close now,"       I laugh, "Defiantly, learned that the hard way,"       "You'd think the current isn't strong enough to haul a boat away," he shrugs and smiles.       "I thought you meant the boat hitting the rocks," I say as I squat in front of the white cushioned seats that double as a chest.       "That too, thank God for O'Malley boat repairs!" he exclaims.       "Stop sponsoring you grandpa's business," I giggle as I toss him a snorkel mask. 

      Ollie chuckles as he sets down the mask and takes off his cut-off shirt. He was tall and semi-built, mostly in his arms and legs; his chest was flat like a cheeseboard. He was built but skinny; he looked like an optical illusion without a shirt on. Ollie was funny about it, saying that he looked like a twig, and making fun of himself. Some girl in my class had told me that he looked like a stoner with the long hair and distorted face. His "distorted' face wasn't imperfect at all; his jaw was square but appeared narrow because it was so structured, and his long hair created shadows around his cheeks.        I was different in body type: I have curves and more defined muscles, a big chest, and like him no abs. I don't mind though, just more of me to love.       "I wish I was as tan as you, the only color I get is on my shoulders, and then I get even more freckles."        I laugh and shake my head as I pull a fuzz ball off my pink bikini bottoms. "I don't know why I get so tan, Mom has lighter skin than I do."       "Is it. . .never mind," he says while pulling out flippers from the other cushioned bench.       "From my dad? Maybe, but who knows - who cares? Look where I am now, having the time of my life with my favorite person! And, if we get eaten by sharks I know that I'll die with my best friend," I smile.       Ollie shoots me a look, "Funny of you to assume that I'm going to be anywhere near you if a shark comes around,"       "Oh, please, like we're going to be eaten by a shark,"       "What scene in Jaws don't you understand? Actually, what don't you learn from the whole series?" Ollie asks.       "Come on Skipper," I laugh as I pull on my flippers and strap my goggles over my eyes, "we've got some discovering to do,"       Soon after we throw the anchor down, we both jump in the cold ocean, but it wasn't so cold to me. The sun was always blistering, but I'd grown used to it, and now nothing bothered me. When I emerged from under the waves, Ollie was struggling to get his snorkel clear of salt water. He inhales deeply, presses his mouth against the mouthpiece, and blows into it, letting the water shoot out from the top like he was a whale. I laugh before biting onto the mouth piece and diving under the waves. Ollie swam next to me a few seconds later, taking my hand so we wouldn't drift too far from each other or end up in a current. We didn't wear life vests because we weren't that far from the rocks, and we could climb up on them to take a break.       As we swim close to the rocks, schools of Yellowtail Snappers part to let us through. It was so exciting swimming in such a colorful ocean, filled with corals of all shapes and sizes, fish of different bright colors, and seashells scattered everywhere on the bottom floor. My favorite fish would have to be a puffer fish, because they look so innocent until you make them mad, and they blow up into a huge ball of spikes. Great White Sharks are my second favorite, just because they're like the kings of the ocean - in my opinion at least. Ollie likes Manatees and Blue Tangs more, he's not one who wants to learn about the dangerous creatures and discover what's deep down in the Hadal Zone.       After we take a few laps around the rocks to explore and admire the ocean life around it, we start diving to pick up seashells. Every once in a while when swimming back up to the surface, we realize that someone's still living inside. I love collecting seashells, and I do it every time I head to the beach. When I was younger, my favorite type of seashell to collect were broken sand dollar shells. One day I imagined finding all the broken pieces of one shell and piecing it back together. The only whole seashell I've ever had is one my mother found for me; she wouldn't tell me where she found it, which at first I thought it was one she bought from a gift shop. I was wrong because it was real, and I wondered for years how she attained it. Over the years I brushed it off, because she's done so much for me as a single parent and I never know how to thank her.       As I grab a white cockle shell with a blue stripe, my eyes catch sight of an abandoned queen conch, which was a light pink with dark oranges around the edges. I thought it was beautiful, but I didn't have time to grab it because I couldn't hold my breath for more than ten seconds. So, I pushed myself off the sand floor and torpedoed up to the waves, where up on the rocks sat Ollie, mask on his forehead as he counted all eight of his shells and piled all sixteen of mine next to him.       "Conch!" I spit water out of my mouth frantically as I swim up to the rock and place my cockle shell in my pile. Ollie gives me a surprised and confused look as he leans in closer.       "What did you just call me?"       "No!" I laugh, propping my elbows on the ledge of the rocks. "There's this beautiful conch shell right below me in between the green brain corals. It's so gorgeous but I'm not sure I can carry it with all my other shells." Ollie throws his mask back over his eyes and grabs a hold of the snorkel.       "That sucks, is a slug in it?" I shake my head as he gathers up his and half of my shells. "Maybe we'll come back tomorrow and get it, Grams is gonna be pissed if I'm late for dinner," I nod as I gather up the rest of my shells and swim with Ollie back to the boat. As I climb the ladder, I place my shells in an empty bucket next to the seats. Ollie tosses his in, then stands up straighter and flips his mask up once more.       "You said the seashell was over there?" he asks, pointing to the general area where we were a moment ago. I nod as I pull up the anchor. The boat rocks slightly before Ollie starts the engine, and slowly drives the boat. Usually he does this as a warm up until he can get the boat to go faster. He stays slow as he turns the boat in the wrong direction for home.       "Ollie," I say. "I don't mean to be a backseat sailor, but you're going the wrong way,"       "I know," he calls back before turning near the rocks and cutting the engine off again. I watch as he placed the mask, which he never took off, over his eyes one last time before he grabbed the snorkel, and without flippers, jumps into the ocean.       "Ollie!" I scream as I lean over the boat's railing. He emerges from the water, flinging his long brown hair out of his face.       "Green brain coral, right?" he asks.       "What?" I ask. Ollie smirks before taking a deep breath, biting onto the mouth piece and slipping under the water. I grab only my mask and climb down the ladder, but stay clinging to it even as I go under the water.       Ollie swims towards the circle of brain coral where the conch shell is resting on the ocean floor. I watch him take hold of it, and he turns around to see me looking at him. He gives me a thumbs up and I do the same back with a smile he probably can't see. Suddenly, a big long shadow moves behind him, and I start pointing behind him. It was a barracuda, a long rusty blue one that blended in with the ocean water. It's mouth was slightly open to reveal sharp teeth, something I found terrifying in fish. Although I've eaten barracudas, I'd never want to swim with or near one.       Ollie turns around in time to see it circling him, but instead of staying calm and unmoving - probably because he was couldn't breathe - Ollie took off from the sea floor. I emerged from the water and hastily climbed up the ladder. Not a second later Ollie was climbing up it, throwing himself over the step and falling on the floor of the boat. Immediately, I'm at his side.       "Ollie! I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have pointed! - are you okay?" All I hear is deep breaths and he tosses his mask off. His blue eyes looked into my brown ones as he smirks, and holds out the conch shell to me.       "For you, oh Captain my Captain," he says.       I sigh with guilt as I took the conch. "You didn't need to do that," He raises an eyebrow and chuckles, shaking his head.       "And see my captain sad? Never," We laugh as I hug him tightly, but as he tries to move his feet, Ollie hisses in pain. Looking to his feet, I see the side of his left foot and big toe swelling up with redness.       "You stepped on fire coral!" I scream as I take the next empty bucket and lean over the boat to submerge it under the waves. After I haul it back up filled with sea water, I help Ollie onto the bench and stick his left foot in it.       "Time to go home, Mom can help you out with that," I say, turning to the wheel of the boat and starting up the engine. "Don't let your foot rest on the bottom of the bucket, you could have a stingers stuck in your foot."       Through all the pain hisses and wincing, Ollie says, "You should be a doctor, just like your mom, you'd be good at it,"       "This isn't the right time to discuss my mother's dream of 'Dr. Ross and Ross, family doctors,'" I say as I turn the boat in the right direction of home.        "Dr. Roberta Ross," Ollie shouts over the engine. "I like the sound of that,"   

[bunlai]

Coming soon...2021 cicada dinner...email miyassushi@gmail.com for inquiries.

When I was little, in Japan, the kids and I would climb trees with a bug net in hand, and catch the “semi” whose buzzing would fill the summer air. Cicadas singing always remind me of my childhood summers in Japan. The Japanese don’t eat cicada but revere them as a symbol of summer. Furthermore, insect hunting, is a pastime for Japanese children. We used to catch insects, keep them in containers for awhile to admire them, then let them go. Pet stores would sell rhinoceros beetles which we would feed watermelon. The Japanese are much more comfortable with insects so I never was grossed out by them as many Americans are. Instead, I’ve always found insects to be beautiful, complex, profoundly intelligent, and endlessly fascinating.

We prefer to eat what we are familiar with, which is understandable. Most French people love eating snails but the idea of eating a slug is disgusting to them, though a slug is just a snail without a shell. The average American today is grossed out by the thought of eating an insect while they’d be overjoyed to eat a lobster, an animal that’s closely related to an insect (insects and crustaceans belong to the phylum Arthropoda). In the US, it took 100 or so years for people to value the taste of lobster and it was only with the development of a market that this happened. Disgust for foods is culturally constructed in almost every case. Bugs are food in nearly every hunter-gatherer society and grubs are even considered a great delicacy because of the taste and texture for many. There are very few better and cleaner sources of protein than bugs. Either cultural values change that turn a food edible or the environment changes which forces us to eat new foods. I am hoping for the former.

Today, how we eat has led to a pandemic of diet-related diseases, the COVID pandemic, the proliferation of antibiotic-resistant bacteria, and widespread habitat destruction, Climate Change, mass extinctions, overfishing, and hunting, ubiquitous pesticide contamination, and the inhumane treatment of other sentient beings. Humanity must find more sustainable ways to eat and insects fit that bill because farming them require less natural resources while generating less green house gasses than the meat we eat.

Furthermore, insects probably do not experience pain and suffering in the profound ways that vertebrates do due to differences in their brain structure, making them perhaps a more ethical livestock source.

We have to revolutionize our entire food system or face the catastrophic consequences of not doing it, and eating more insects and less livestock is part of the solution. But, you don't have to eat bugs because it's the right thing to do; eat them because they are delicious, and this new cicada is a good way of getting started. Eating cicadas could save the world.

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, Worthless, 3: These trinket are garbage plain and simple. They would be termed vendor trash or junk loot in video games. They aren't touched by stray magic or mystery as with regular trinkets, aren't made from valuable materials and aren't particularly useful even if they aren't damaged.

A brass device with nested circular plates that rotate and click

A coin pouch containing a full set of stick-on nails that were clearly created for someone with much larger hands than a normal human

A double-handled mug that appears to be made for nonhuman hands

A feather from an unknown type of bird

A five-pronged dinner fork made of an unknown metal

A green copper tool with no obvious function.

A hairpiece that does not seem to have been made for humans

A highly polished dung ball

A map with several strange inaccuracies.

A meticulously woven reed mat, with the phrase “YOU GO AWAY! YOU DIE!” written in goblin.

---Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

---Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A brass device with nested circular plates that rotate and click

A coin pouch containing a full set of stick-on nails that were clearly created for someone with much larger hands than a normal human

A double-handled mug that appears to be made for nonhuman hands

A feather from an unknown type of bird

A five-pronged dinner fork made of an unknown metal

A green copper tool with no obvious function.

A hairpiece that does not seem to have been made for humans

A highly polished dung ball

A map with several strange inaccuracies.

A meticulously woven reed mat, with the phrase “YOU GO AWAY! YOU DIE!” written in goblin.

A mummified nonhuman hand that twitches as if still alive

A neck chain of small bones strung on a wire. Each bone has a different pair of letters carved into it. Several of the bones appear to be broken off or missing, rendering the goblin inscription illegible.

A net with holes so large you can’t imagine what it’s designed to capture

A non-magical wand with the name “Mitzi” carved into it

A padlock and an attached key, that can be opened by any key except the one that it’s found with.

A pair of bronzed child’s boots.

A paper box containing twenty small wooden sticks

A pastry that has been shellacked

A petrified anomalous octopus with multiple branched arms

A pillow in the shape of a monster’s face that never bites you while you sleep

A polished wooden box labelled “Butter”. Any butter kept in it goes rancid twice as quickly as it normally would.

A purple veil meant to be placed over the head of a human sacrifice.

A shopping list of common groceries and several items you’ve never heard of

A single shoe of a peculiar foreign fashion

A small ceramic piggy bank, unbroken, shaped like an orc.

A small hand-sized box covered with numbered buttons

A small haversack filled with rock dust.

A small pouch containing a tuft of thick, dark brown hair bound with string.  

A small rock, hollow but otherwise ordinary.

A small stone carving of the Raamic god, Badnu

A small, unmarked stone box with unknown ashes in it

A smooth white stone with seven black lines scored across it.

A snail shell containing a viscous green liquid.

A stalactite tip the size of a fist, that still drips fetid oily water about once an hour.

A stick of petrified child’s candy.

A sturdy hide pouch sewn shut with strong fishing line. Something small wriggles inside.  

A tattered cloth pouch containing three strips of moldy jerky.

A tattered painting of a royal family. The faces are scratched out.

A taxidermied goblin that is strikingly lifelike.

A three foot long black rope, tied in various knots.

A three inch cube of ice that never melts, never feels cold, and never cools liquids

A three-sided copper coin.

A thri-kreen antennae

A tiny hose made of rubber that squirms around, as if it’s trying to connect to something

A tiny metal cube with two metal prongs on one side that hum

A tiny quarts tiara that seems too small for even a newborn baby

A tiny sketch of a small humanoid the likes of which you’ve never seen

A tiny stuffed voodoo doll that growls when kissed

A torn piece of cloth once used to wipe down a famous hero’s sword.

A treasure map written on parchment. None of the named places are at all familiar.

A trio of lead wires braided together into a foot long strand

A trio of smooth stone coins with holes in the middle tied together with cord.

A used sky lantern

A vaguely human-shaped fetish comprised of pieces of string, hair and straw.

A wadded up scrap of leather that looks like it once had writing on it.

A whistle made of bone

A white judge’s wig sized for a smaller than man-sized creature. Part of the left side is missing along a diagonal cut, edged with dark brown stains, that runs from the top back to the bottom front.

A whole eggshell, unmarked and undamaged, with the egg inside somehow drained away.

A wide-brimmed hat made from woven grass.

A wineskin filled with cheap wine.

A withered, air-dried hand of a gnoll.

A wooden box containing a game board and pieces for a game that no one seems to know how to play.

A wooden box containing one delicious looking, but inedible strawberry

A wooden box with an ornate brass label that reads, “What just happened?”

A wooden carving of a strange unknown beast

A wooden child’s toy in the shape of an armoured slug

A wooden coin on which is written a curse.

A wooden cryptex that shows only the number “7” on all dials.

A wooden paddle with a rubber ball attached to the center by a string

A wooden puzzle box that seems to want you to solve it

A wreath of barbed wire, woven through with dead flowers

A yellow scrap from a Templar’s cloak

A yellow tabard, heavily stained and soiled, depicting a large white skeleton key aligned vertically.

An aarakocra feather

An amber sphere in which four dried corn kernels have been sealed in.

An ancient flint arrowhead with a strange symbol drawn in chalk on it.

An antique and ill maintained sword, rusted to its scabbard

An arrowhead made by a dead elven tribe

An earring that appears to be made of bird excrement.

An empty bottle of a rare vintage of dwarven wine

An empty envelope with a print of rosy lips painted on the flap.

An empty glass orb so fragile, the slightest pressure should crush it.

An empty hinged box that sounds like it’s full of rocks when shaken

An eye patch made from the lips of a goblin

An hourglass without any sand inside.

An inkwell that causes creatures who stare at it to feel mildly nauseous

An intricate knot that nobody seems to know how to tie or untie. Sailors believe it to be bad luck.

An iron helmet that has been nearly cleaved in two by a sword blow

An uneven glass bead, forged from raw sand by magic  

An uneven glass bead, forged from raw sand by physic energy  

Half of a signet ring. It looks like it was once the stamp for an ancient royal seal.

One piece of unknown paper currency with no obvious denomination

The left shoulder piece from a set of dwarven plate mail, deeply scarred.

Three primitive, flint arrowheads.

Two perfectly identical pine cones

An odd, semi-translucent pink cube of solid glass.

An old little doll made from a dark, dense wood missing a hand and a foot

A chunk of coal in a red and green wool stocking.

A tin canister that produces an extremely foul odor and a puff of dark red smoke when opened

A pair of dice made from the knuckles of a notorious charlatan

[herpsandbirds]

Green Semi-slug (Ibycus rachelae), family Helicarionidae, endemic to Borneo

Semi-slugs have small partial shells that are either partially or completely covered by part of the mantle.

photograph by Albert Kang

[ashnadir]

faye-andrews:

Faye let out a sob of relief as Iann finally started to come to. Shoving the egg deep down in the pocket of Iann’s jacket and then zipping it closed for good measure, she turned back to her friend. 

“It’s me, yeah. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Just from looking at him, she couldn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean much. He repeated her name over and over, and Faye frowned. Had he hit his head? Was he spelled? What the hell had happened? 

To both of them? 

When he didn’t make any effort to get up on his own, Faye moved to sit beside him, and pulled his head into her lap. “It’s alright,” she crooned, petting his hair as she looked around the meadow. “It’s alright. You’re gonna be alright.” She didn’t remember this place being quite so large the last time. It was just grass, tall and swaying as far as she could see on all sides. There was no wind that she could tell, but she could see it bending the green sea around them in rolling waves that carried off into the infinite distance. There was no water either, but Faye could smell it, crisp and clear and wet. 

“Where are we?” she said mostly to herself. 

“Where you asked to be.” The voice came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Faye’s head jerked around, looking this way and that. Her hands stilled in Iann’s hair, and she bent over him slightly, a protective gesture she didn’t realize she was making. 

The egg in her pocket thrummed slightly, like a heartbeat, before going quiet. 

“Iann,” Faye gave him a small shake. “I think think you need to wake up now.” 

Iann felt about as awake as a slug that rolled into salt.  He was tingling all over, like he felt both hot and cold at the same time.  His mind was thick and dark and just a little painful, the beginning stages of what felt like a migraine.  Only Iann wished he actually had a migraine - those could be treated.  Whatever he was feeling, it felt so shitty that all Iann could feel was: what if this was it?

“Faye - Faye...”  Iann said, because his consciousness seemed to only remember her name.  His mind was saturated with everything Faye, centred around her, surrounding her, surrounded by her.  Whatever awareness Iann had was stymied by the thick miasma of dark that pinned him down. Mentally. 

A terrifying state, for someone like Iann Cardero.  It wasn’t pride, how much merit he placed in his ability to think - it was about survival.  Without being about to think, Iann was reduced to chattel, victim, absolute powerlessness.  He had no magic, no shifting ability, no super-strength.  He was just a human, and if he couldn’t think his way out of situations, well that was pretty much doom.  “Faye!” Iann cried out, clutching her arm as she dragged his head into her lap, before he subsided into feverish murmuring of her name.  For now, he was useless, and completely at the mercy of his surroundings.  

No wonder Iann kept saying Faye’s name, calling out to her like a deity to protect him from something he was unable to discern for himself.

“There’s no point waking your friend.  There’s someone else who currently...has a hold on him,”  Carrington Bishop spoke; or rather a psychic image of Carrington Bishop, projected from the world of reality, just as Faye and Iann were.  Only this wasn’t his world; it was a borrowed plan of existence, built by Faye herself.   A gateway to get them out and away from the pure ley line, into a place that seemed to have emanated from the strange egg itself. The egg that currently resided in the pocket of Iann’s jacket, that Carrington’s hungry eyes seemed focused on even if he couldn’t actually see it.

Carrington sighed.  “I tried to warn him about you, but he would have none of it.  And now look what you’ve done, Faye.  You’ve botched things up again with good people.”  Carrington finally made eye contact with her, then sympathetically down at the semi-conscious Iann.  

“You really never should’ve left my tutelage.  You’re a shell of the woman you once were, Faye.”

return

[thecoroutfitters]

Written by R. Ann Parris on The Prepper Journal.

There’s a number of things that get passed around about firearms, even among shooters, that bear some consideration. Some of them truly deserve their own articles, but meantime, here’s a few that I hear and see pretty regularly passed around on the range, in gun stores, on forums, and in articles and videos.

Brandishing A Gun Scares Off Bad Guys

I tend to brush off legalities of self-defense, because if I’m pulling a gun, it’s the potential of life or death anyway and I’m willing to face repercussions – as well as potential retribution attempts from the deceased’s family/friends/community.

However, for those who like the “flash it” theory of scaring off would-be thieves or possible assailants, do be aware that in some jurisdictions, it’s illegal. In some, without actual threat of violence predicating it, it’s considered assault with a deadly weapon.

As far as the sound of a pump gun or facing a gaping maw sending bad guys running in fear … don’t count on it.

Before we pull a gun, we need to be ready to use it. If it’s not worth killing or dying over – killing, because “shoot to wound” is another fallacy – that gun needs to stay in our holster, vehicle, closet, etc.

When we pull a gun, or even print or gesture a willingness to shoot, we have just escalated the level of violence.

This puts whoever we’re facing in a high-level threat situation. There are three responses to threats: Fight, Flight, & Freeze.

Only one of those three actually leads to a result we want if we’re trying to scare our bad guy into leaving.

Not myth. Not supposition. Not conjecture. Not projecting. For-real 100% documented solid fact: “Fight” is a common response when people feel threatened, whether they “deserve it” or not.

It’s why higher-level defensive shooting training actually includes retention and disarming tactics. It’s also why the upper-level daily gun-toting professionals spend so much time learning to de-escalate a situation, and avoid escalations in threat – even in the military.

There’s not really much statistical chance you actually land on the loaded cartridge in Russian Roulette. Most of us still wouldn’t risk it.

Don’t risk it by counting on a show of force dispelling trouble, either.

Pulling or intentionally drawing attention to a firearm should be a last resort.

It should never be done with the expectation that it will scare somebody away and that will be that, all done, no bloodshed or screaming today.

If you’re not willing to kill or be killed, and willing to expose family and bystanders to crossfire, right then, over whatever the (possible) offense is, leave it be.

(Same goes for loading a gun with rock salt, powder bombs, bean bags, blanks, rubber bullets/shot, etc. We have to be able and willing to back it up, or we need to leave it alone.)

Preppers Must Get A Battle Rifle … and, Soon/Early

Only if you’re planning to ride into battle. Even then, only if the most-likely scenarios are already covered.

For many, a defensive pistol is likely to be more practical and thus a higher priority. We’re more likely to have it on us, every day or End of Days, because it’s lighter, smaller, and easier to carry and work while carrying.

If it’s not on us when we need it, whatever we’re doing, wherever we are, we might as well spend the money and skills development elsewhere.

A shotgun is another practical option, every day or End of Days, for home defense, walking into the wilds if that’s the plan, urban combat, property defense, and a wide range of hunting possibilities even with a shorty designed for working corners and close quarters.

If we do feel like a battle rifle is a biggie, try to get one with the accuracy to cross purpose into hunting, whether it’s new high-speed poly or an old surplus we can hack and chop to 1/2 or 2/3 the weight.

Some of the hunting rifles (and surplus bolt guns) have reasonable conversions to detachable mags and extended mags, and can fill a lot of the battle rifle roles if we really want to go that road.

Women & Small People Should Get 20-gauge Shotguns

Not necessarily. A shotgun’s action type and weight, the specific model and even era/age of that model, and the shell(s) loaded are going to play equal or bigger roles in experienced recoil.

My 1960-1970’s and 2010 break-action 20-gauges feel the exact same as my 12-gauge 1931 Model 97 and 1980’s 870 and my nephew’s 2015 Maverick. My 12-gauge 1990’s-2000’s Nova shoots lighter than any of them for bird shot, but with goose, buck, or slug loads – big grrrr-girl or not – oh, ow.

I’ve played on other people’s much more expensive auto loaders 12-gauges that feel like total whispers even with those goose and buck loads and slugs, and others that are so light they go back to the “hell no” of the Nova and ’97.

The tradeoff in shell variety, pellets-per-shell, range, and sourcing easy-to-upgrade platforms outweighs the differences for most adults.

We can have stocks fitted with pads, weigh stocks with lead shot or fishing weights, and choose lower-recoil shells to reduce experienced recoil. There are some particularly slim, petite people who would still do better with a child’s model in 20-ga., but if it’s at all manageable, the 12-gauge is a better choice.

(This lady breaks down action selection really well here http://norcalcazadora.blogspot.com/2012/02/how-to-choose-shotgun-for-hunting.html, and is also a proponent of 12’s for women, which she details elsewhere.)

Revolvers Are Safer/Better For Self-Defense Carry Than Semi-autos

There’s numerous arguments to this theme.

One is that because you have to cock the hammer of a revolver, it’s less likely to be fired accidentally/prematurely – as opposed to “just” pulling the trigger for a pistol.

I assume the ones who propose such have never heard of double-action revolvers or considered the possibility of an exposed/external hammer being cocked by a scuffle or by clothing or hands in the draw phase.

(A gun is a gun is a gun and should be handled and treated with respect – if only two rules are followed, there would never be an accidental shooting.)

A second is that a revolver is faster/easier to deploy in self-defense because you have to work the slide of a semi-auto.

That threw me for a while. Turns out, it stems from an apparently not-uncommon resistance to holstering a pistol that is ready to fire. That’s a training and familiarity issue, and ignores the many CCW/W&C civilians, security guards, cops, and military who do it daily with no issues.

It also ignores the possibility of holstering a ready-to-use double-action revolver.

If you’re not ready (read: comfortable enough) to carry hot, you’re not ready to carry in public, period. Train to build the confidence in safe handling.

There’s also a few that stem from the likelihood of mechanical failures, particularly in cold weather.

Since Arctic Circle cops and military keep semi-autos working in some seriously gnarly conditions, we can pretty well write off the latter.

The former is, actually, more of a risk. The more moving parts something has, the more likely it is to have a failure in one of those parts.

On the other hand, if your firearm is (reasonably) clean, checked for wear – just like we should be checking springs and pins in our revolvers – and you’re using the usual ammo (1911s, .22LRs), you should be okay.

It’s only “more” of a risk, not “risky”. We also risk more driving to work in the fog and super bright days than “normal” days, and buying supermarket greens instead of growing our own.

*I in no way hate revolvers and think they actually have some specific better-best circumstances … just not safety or reliability vs. semis.

Persisting Myths

These are just a few of the most common and most persistent “truths” that get passed around.

One of my other absolute favorites is that modern revolvers should still sit on an empty chamber (there’s a safety bar to prevent dropping/slapping causing the hammer to send the firing pin forward). The newly spreading insistence that every gun should “fit” each shooter is another head-scratcher, given how many of us own a standard-stock 10/22s, served with fixed-stock rifles (and still do), and swap or inherited firearms that perform well.

I also love the apparent belief that at household distances shotguns never miss, and the near-on “one shot one kill” mental image so many ascribe to combat and defensive situations (versus police hit rates of <50% and the averages of 10 K to 250 K shots fired per each enemy KIA in various modern war eras and guerrilla actions).

There are plenty of others out there. I’d rather not get into the political-oriented idiocies or caliber debates, but if you have a favorite myth that involves ownership, use, and safety, feel free to throw it in the comments.

It won’t step on my toes at all – I’d far rather have mistruths dispelled than have them linger.

If you have a question about some truth that gets passed around about firearms, throw that in the ring, too. You are almost assuredly not the only one with that question.

And I promise you, bottom of my heart, from behind the counter and standing in front of classes, unless you start with “but I…” and get “Red Dawn” and “Call of Duty” in the same sentence, it is not even in the running for the most ridiculous legitimate question ever heard. Promise.

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[recentanimenews]

Houseki no Kuni – 03

Land of the Lustrous continues to be, to me, the strangest anime of the Fall by far, and I love it. After their encounter with the Lunarians’ giant snail, Phos has…changed. That is to say, they no longer has a humanoid body. They’re still “alive”, as much as all of the gems of this land are.

But while the standard rules of flesh-and-blood humans don’t apply to them or any other gem, there are other considerations that do: their “humanity”, i.e. the network of interpersonal relationships that define Phos to others.

Despite being shiny gems, these people have the same social structure as any normal human group. Which explains why the overriding reaction to Pho’s apparent transformation into some kind of semi-sentient invertebrate is…indifference. Apathy. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯-ness.

The Gems are largely a pragmatic and practical bunch; if you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem; if you don’t have an immediate, measurable use, you’re of no value.

Diamond scoops up the creature they believes to be Phos and seeks help first from the doctor, but Rutile only knows how to heal Gems; they’d only dissect and kill the creature if left to their own curiosity. When presenting it to other Gems, most see Phos’ metamorphosis as an improvement, and in any case wouldn’t know where to start in terms of changing them back.

There’s an almost Christmas Carol quality to this, if Scrooge were a slimy slug being carried around by an anthropomorphic diamond, and the Gems were the various ghosts who visited him.

Dia finds themselves far out in the country, and their observations of “Bio-Phos” indicate they don’t want to change back either; the creature eats plants, poops them out, then goes to sleep, like any biological organism would do. They laments that Phos had such crappy connections to the others that they’d care so little about their plight.

Where is Cinnabar, I kept asking myself, what with their unique poison gooey properties. Well, they’re where they always are; far far away from everyone else. They spot a bright light they believe to be Lunarians but is actually Dia, who also dozed off.

Despite not taking any active role, just being in contact with Dia proves crucial to Pho’s return to corporeal form. You see, on the isolated shores of the country there are a good number of snails, and Cinnabar observes that they eat stone to restore and harden their shells. The snails who eat red stone turn red.

Those who eat white stone turn white. So a snail who ate phosphophyllite would have a minty glint to their shell. That’s when it hits Dia: the creature isn’t really Pho; at least not entirely: their crystalline structure is now in the shell at the bottom of the pool back home. We saw the answer, those green crystals, in the opening moments of the episode.

Now that they know what to do, Dia rushes back as fast as their diamond legs can carry them, in a gorgeous, lyrical sequence that really illustrates the great distance that must be covered and neatly establishes the scale of the land, along with Dia’s determination to cross it and save Phos. Even the stern Bort cannot refuse that determination; indeed, they avert their eyes at the sheer brilliance of it.

And so Dia, who unlike Phos has strong bonds to all of their fellow Gems, calls upon everyone to assist them in heaving the shell to the surface, carving out the Phos deposits from the shell, and delivering them to Rutile, who reconstructs Phos in another gorgeous sequence that makes full use of the 3DCGI.

Phos awakens, surrounded by the other Gems, and is immediately off on the wrong foot, attacking and yelling at the creature Diamond is holding rather than, you know, thanking everyone for saving them once again.

And yet that act of communicating with the creature and responding to its noises reveals a new and potentially groundbreaking fact: Phos can understand what the creature is saying. That makes them unique and valuable…for once.

Phos endured quite a bit over the last couple episodes, to an extent worse than the routine smashing into pieces. They seems to have made some kind of connection that may even prove useful in future dealings with the Lunarians. If only they’d take their ordeal to heart and start mending their relationships to others.

By: braverade

[dearsnails]

Sorry! I didn't wanna be rude or presumptuous and explain a thing you already knew. Semislugs are like,, snails that are partway into evolving into slugs! Slugs have evolved independently several times, and there's some creechers still around today that show the in-between period. The shell is very small, usually flat, sometimes (but not always) integrated into the mantle. Think big chungy slugs with a flat little shell on top!

don’t worry anon, I’m always down to hear snail (and slug!) facts! thank you (and @kryptidkrimes !) for explaining it to me! i am hereby issuing a correction:

[ID: A digital drawing of a green semislug with a partial brown shell. The semislug is sitting on a leaf while smiling and looking up. END ID]

here is ur semi slug!! these little guys are so funny

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

cupids specialist little guy

Green Shell Semi-Slug: the researchers who discovered this species originally wanted to name it "Ibycus felis," because it often rests with its tail curled around its body, which reminded them of a sleeping cat

The Latin name of this species is Ibycus rachelae, but it's also known as a green-shelled or long-tailed semi-slug. The species was first described in 2008, and it is found only in the montane forests of Sabah (Borneo) and Peninsular Malaysia.

The term "semi-slug" refers to an intermediate stage of evolution as a snail evolves into a slug. These snails still have shells that are at least partially visible, but they have been reduced to the point where the shell can no longer accommodate the snail's whole body. There are many different species of semi-slug, but most of them have a noticeably reduced, receding, and/or transparent shell that is partially concealed beneath the mantle.

This article describes another peculiar characteristic of semi-slugs (including Ibycus rachelae):

... semi-slugs don’t just look weird, they act weird, too. They employ sharp projectiles called love darts in their courtship rituals, by shooting several of them at a prospective mate. The mate, in turn, shoots several love darts right back.

Researchers have found that if semi-slugs are able to lodge love darts into one another, the subsequent copulation tends to be much more successful. It’s thought that the mucus distributed by the love dart ensures greater survivability of the sperm

This is what the "love darts" look like (when magnified under SEM):

The tiny, harpoon-like structures are made of calcium carbonate, and they transmit certain hormones (via mucus) that help to increase the likelihood of reproductive success. Semi-slugs are not the only gastropods that use "love darts," however; they are also used by some other land snails and slugs.

Sources & More Info:

World Wildlife Fund: Borneo's New World (PDF)

Basteria (Journal): The Slugs and Semislugs of Sabah, Malaysian Borneo (PDF)

Forest Research Institute Malaysia: Introduction to the Land Snails and Slugs of Malaysia (PDF)

Malay Peninsular Terrestrial Molluscs: Ibycus rachelae

Live Science: World's Longest Bug and 'Ninja' Slug Discovered in Borneo

Australian Geographic: Meet the Semi-Slug, a Snail without a Home