These are diamond-tipped indenter heads. They are used to inflict ludicrous pressure upon various shit in order to measure the hardness of said shit. Recently, one of these was used to measure the hardness of a certain animal’s shell, and, instead of crushing the ever-loving fuck out of it, it found serious resistance.
The aforementioned animal is a snail.
Let me spell this out for ya. There is a snail that can resist the onslaught from an industrial-grade diamond applied with the pressure of several metric fucktonnes. A. Snail. That. Can. Resist. A. Diamond. Indenter.
Just imagine stepping on one of these guys. Instead of breaking their shells like those of usual snails, you’d break your own fucking ankle.
Jesus trilobitic Christ.
Today’s Episode: the Scaly-Foot Gastropod
Just look at this little piece of shit. Look at it and say to my face it doesn’t look like a tank.
What we’ve got here is the rather lamely-named scaly-foot gastropod, also known by the considerably more badass-sounding names of iron snail and
Chrysomallon squamiferum. The SFG hails from the deep-sea thermal vents known as black smokers, deep-sea vents from which water gushes constantly. That water, by the way, originates from below the mantle.
The proximities of black smokers are perfectly lightless, unforgiving badlands, with water rich enough in poisonous sulphuric chemicals to perform the chemical equivalent of curbstomping on any “superior” lifeform that dares stick it’s overspecialized, prissy ass down there, heat up to 450 degrees Celsius (one thirteenth of the temperature of the Sun’s surface) and pressures that could turn any land-dwelling scum into a Flatlander within seconds. If creatures want to survive here, they must either be hyper-effective murder-machines, or damn nigh unkillable.
The SFG’s predators, such as venomous, killer cone snails with bionic harpoon guns evolved from their own “teeth”, and car-wrecking carnivorous crabs that kill snails by pressing down on their shells for days with jagged ultra-hard pincers specifically designed to do this belong in the first category.
The SFG itself belongs in the second.
Hoooly shit does it ever.
The unkillability itself is obtained by using the chemosynthetic bacteria lurking in its glands to absorb and mineralize the poisonous iron-sulphides the water is overabundant with, making them non-poisonous for the snail. It then coats its shell with the minerals, constructing an unique three-layer structure no other gastropods possess. None.
To sum it up, the outer layer, used to block the bulk of the attack, is made up of greigite (Fe3S4), a ridiculously hard mineral. Then comes a middle layer of squishy organic matter purposed to absorb the shock of impacts, dents and blows. Finally, an inner layer of aragonite (CaCO3), designed to prevent asshole crabs from sticking their nasty claws into the shell and picking it apart splinter by splinter.
How effective is it? Well, this armor is so much better than what we puny humans possess that the U.S. Army is actively conducting research about it with the hope of developing new armor using the same build. Yes, this shell is so unbreakable that it caused the a military to lose their heads over a goddamn sea snail. Go figure.
Also, according to biologists researching the SFG, if we covered oil pipes with the stuff, they could easily shrug off damage done by such trivial things as fucking icebergs,
Not bad from a snail, I say.
But that’s not all! Look at it again.
There is a reason it’s called Scaly-foot Gastropod.
Those are scales. Made out of iron minerals.
Iron minerals that are poisonous and magnetic.
The scales are there because of the tooth-harpoon-hurling killer snails. Namely, they serve to deflect the harpoons entirely. Deflective iron scales. On a snail.
So let’s sum it up, shall we? There exists a snail that forges itself a magnetic armor made out of poisonous iron ore to fend off killer crabs and venomous sniper snails that hunt it in its habitat of a vent leading to the Earth’s mantle.
Oh, and they don’t really eat anything, relying on their chemosynthetic bacteria for sustenance instead. In layman’s terms, that means that the snail keeps itself running by oxidating the sulphides in the water, all of which are lethally poisonous to most lifeforms, including the snail itself. The only reason it survives is that the bacteria chemosynthetize the sulphides, enabling the snail to quite literally live off of poison.
This molluscoid tank is ridiculously metal in more ways than one.
Can I have when it's like in the middle of the night and the Paladin's S/o just gets up from the bed and leaves the room, only to get a cup of water or something and the Paladins wake up only to see that their s/o isn't at their side, freaks out, only to find them in the kitchen with a cup of water in their hands.. Sorry if this is long
Hey it’s mod Enki! This is really super cute so it’s gonna be like a tiny drabble for each! I’m sorry this is so long orz I kinda got carried away.
You woke up with the taste of dried spit and left over whatever you had for dinner. Space goo again? You could have sworn it was something different this past time. Either way, it didn’t leave a good taste in your mouth. With what little light in the room you looked to your side to see Shiro comfortably asleep next to you, his head on your shoulder. Even though you hated to disturb him from his sleep, you needed to get a glass of water. You were a little hot, too, from being so close to him while you slept. With a sigh you gently wiggled your way from out of the covers and out of the bed. As soon as your bare feet hit the cold floor you shivered. Suddenly you weren’t so hot anymore and even debated going back to bed. The grimy taste in your mouth told you otherwise and you headed to the door.
Once out of the room you flinched at the bright lights in the hallway almost bumping into a few things as your eyes adjusted. Even as you got used to the bright lights, you still stumbled your way to the kitchen like a drunkard. Fumbling with the light switch you managed to light the kitchen. It didn’t take you too long to get a nice refreshing glass of water and you pretty much downed it in one go.
However, when you turned around to refill your glass you practically jumped three feet in the air as you saw someone out of the corner of your eye. You couldn’t manage to hold on to your glass in your fright and it fell right out of your hands. You fumbled trying to properly catch it until your hands managed to get purchase on the slippery glass. A low chuckle resounded to your side and you almost jumped again. Instead you turned to face the source only to see none other than your loving boyfriend, in the same groggy state as you.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He said, his voice low and a little scratchy.
“I don’t think startle really covers it.” You replied clearly exasperated. “I would phrase it more like… scared the living shit out of me.”
He chuckled again putting his hands up in surrender. “Okay okay, I got it. Next time I’ll send you a letter before I enter a room.”
“Oh ha ha…” You mocked sarcastically. “What are you doing up anyways?”
“I woke up and couldn’t feel you next to me and got worried. Sounds a little silly I know.”
“I see, then I guess the next time I leave the bed I’ll be sending you a letter of warning.” You said quoting his earlier remark. He just shook his head before letting out a yawn. It wasn’t long before you were yawning, too. Setting down the glass you shuffled your way over to him, rubbing your arms for warmth.
“Let’s just go to bed already, I’m cold.” You mumbled.
“Alright.” Shiro pressed a kiss to your forehead before the two of you headed back to his room for some much needed rest.
It was probably the dead of night when you woke up, annoyed by the boy sleeping beside you. He was practically sprawled out on the bed and kicking you in the side. All the blankets were bunched up onto you and clearly overheating you to the point of being pretty uncomfortable. You angrily shoved the blankets off of you and onto Lance who was dead ass asleep and drooling onto the bed. A sigh forced it’s way out of you and you tried to think of how exactly you were going to get out of the bed with the mess of a boy beside you. You debated just shoving him off the bed entirely so you could just get out easily. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even wake up if you did.
As tempting as it was, you weren’t that mean. Or you were and you just didn’t have the energy to move his dumb ass. Either way you managed to escape from the bed and exit out into the hallway. You were too god damn hot and needed to get something that could cool you down. The lights of the hallway were probably even more annoying than Lance’s sleeping habits at the moment and you squinted to make sense of your surroundings.
“Stupid lights…” You mumbled to yourself as you finally made your way to the kitchen.
You perked up as soon as you got your water and felt the cool liquid slide down your throat. It was so simple yet so refreshing to you. You sighed contently and just stood there for a second, relishing in the peace you had found in the dead of night. That is, before you felt two arms wrap around you and a face bury itself in your neck.
“Y/n…. Come back to bed. You scared me I thought you were gone.” Lance mumbled.
“You’re so dumb sometimes… I just needed a glass of water.” You said trying to wiggle out of his grasp. His grip was too solid though and you had no choice but to give up.
“Y/n…” He mumbled your name again and you couldn’t help but realize how ironic it was. He never wanted to cuddle you in bed but suddenly he was all over you.
“Well I can’t go back to bed if you keep holding me like this.” You said trying to shove him away.
He seemed to comply this time and let go, eyes still closed, almost like he was sleep walking. You took him by the hand and led him out of the kitchen and back to bed where you two could hopefully get some more sleep.
When you woke up you were surprisingly comfortable, tangled up in the sheets with Keith and head resting on his chest. You sat there for a second just listening to his heartbeat and steady breathing. Everything seemed just perfect until you realized just how thirsty you were. It was that kind of thirst that you could feel all the way to the back of your throat. It was bothering you more and more every second you sat there just dealing with it. You really didn’t want to get up, it broke your heart to leave your boyfriend as he was probably having one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s had in a while. But man, you were thirsty as hell and there was no way you could go back to sleep now.
You begrudgingly got out of bed, untangling yourself from the covers and from Keith. He looked so cute in his sleep so you quickly kissed his cheek before you made your way out into the hallway. The lights blinded you and you really regretted getting out of bed. But you had come this far so there was no way you were going back now. You zombied your way to the kitchen and managed to down two whole glasses of water before you heard someone running down the hall.
Sitting on the counter you just shrugged before downing another glass and setting it down beside you. A yawn escaped your lips and you could’ve sworn you heard someone calling your name. You listened again and you heard it call a second time, a little louder this time. It wasn’t hard to recognize and you almost hit yourself for thinking he wouldn’t notice you leaving.
“Keith…!” You beckoned from the kitchen. It wasn’t long before you could hear the taps of his feet as he made his way to you. He called out your name again when he entered the kitchen and you noticed how his expression turned from a scowl to a more relieved one.
“Wow, I didn’t think you would notice me gone for literally five minutes.” You said laughing a little.
“I was worried something happened to you!” He defended himself. “You should’ve told me where you were going.”
“I was gone for five minutes, Keith.” You said.
“Still…” He mumbled. “Just don’t do it again.”
“Okaaaaay.” You drawled getting down from the counter. “You just looked so cute while you were sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you up!”
“Oh whatever.” He huffed. “Let’s go back to bed.”
“Whatever you saaaay.” You laughed lightly, trailing after him and back to bed.
As much as you loved Hunk, he radiated nothing but heat when you two cuddled and while you were 100% okay with this you were really feeling the heat right about now. It was late, everyone was surely asleep by now which meant you could wander the castle in whatever gross sleep state you were in right now. Sweat collected on your back and forehead and you really needed to cool off right about now. You wiggled out of your lover’s grasp and hated to part him while he was so contently sleeping. But when you’re gross and sweating and extremely hot it literally feels like the worst.
You really preferred to be cold most of the time because it was really easy to just cuddle up with Hunk to get warm. It’s a whole different story for when your were hot though. When your feet touched the nice cool floor you really debated just laying on it for like an hour to properly cool off. But it didn’t really sound like something you had the patience for. A nice glass of water sounded way more appealing than just laying on the ground feeling like you’re dying.
So you stepped out into the hallways and absorbed the shock of the lights and nice cool air blowing over your body. Once you were done bathing in this new found bliss you headed down to the kitchen. It still smelled of whatever goodies Hunk had managed to cook up for dinner when you entered it. You smiled to yourself as you stood in the kitchen with a nice glass of water.
Closing your eyes you could’ve sworn you could fall asleep just standing up. However a warm voice pulled you from your sleepy stupor.
“Of course I would find my favorite person in my favorite place.” Hunk said entering the kitchen. You looked at him with surprise before breaking into a small smile.
“Oh, what are you doing up?” You asked.
“I mean I woke up and you weren’t there suddenly. It’s just a little scary you know?” He said scratching the back of his neck.
“Sorry, I guess I should’ve woken you up then. I needed to cool off for a second.” You said sheepishly. “I’m done now though, so let’s go back to bed.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The two of you walked back to bed, hand in hand humming a tune the both of you vaguely knew. It wasn’t long before you were back to cuddling and sweet dreams.
It was one of those rare occasions that Pidge was asleep next to you at a reasonable hour. You were very grateful to be blessed with this opportunity to finally cuddle your girlfriend after a long week of missions and helping out around the castle ship. Everything was perfect. Well, almost everything… You were sleeping so soundly that you managed to drool all over the pillow and now your mouth felt as dry as a desert. Dried spit didn’t taste too well and it really did bother you.
Pidge probably wouldn’t take too kindly to your gross slobber breath or the fact that you drooled all over the pillow. So you wiggled out of bed and flipped over the pillow to the dry side of it. Your first task was done so now you were one to accomplish the next. You stepped out into the bright ass hallway and instantly regretted it. You stumbled around like you were afflicted with some sort of illness. In fact, you took you the longest time to get used to these blinding lights.
You weren’t too fond of the lights in the hallway so you didn’t even bother turning on the lights in the kitchen. It seemed like a much better idea to just let the lights from the hallway filter into the kitchen. The darkness of the kitchen was comforting and it helped keep you groggy enough to be ready to fall back to sleep the second you got in bed.
As soon as you got your water you quickly downed it to re-hydrate your mouth. It was nice and refreshing, although a little cold making you shiver a bit. Turning on your heel you were about to head back to the room when you saw a figure in the door way. You let out a mixture of startled noises before realizing it was just Pidge. She started at you with a blank expression.
“Did you drool all over the pillow again?” She asked. You could practically feel your heart stop.
“Y/n, you only get a glass of water after you drool in your sleep.” She added, completely trapping you.
“Fine, you got me. I’ll wash the pillow case in the morning.” You admitted. “Why are you up anyways. You never come after me just for drooling on a pillow.”
“It just scared me that you weren’t beside me while I slept like you always are.” She mumbled. “I had a bad dream.”
You smiled and went to hug her from behind. She sniffled a bit and you squeezed her a little harder.
“You’re just the only one I have left.”
“Don’t worry, Pidge. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
ok so with the knew “it” movie out, i think its important to dispel some media perpetrated clown myths and explain how to properly handle clown husbandry and diet. the media really likes to portray clowns as threatening and cruel which is not true! clowns can be excellent companions if you treat them right! they’re difficult to care for but when you watch them romping around, beeping noses and making balloon animals freely, you’ll understand why the clown keeping hobby is so popular
FIRST OF ALL:
clowns do NOT live in sewers and they will not live long at all in those stupid clown starter kits, ive seen a lot of posts about those already but it can always be reminded. clowns need lots of space to play! exact measurement depends on what kind of clown(s) you are looking to keep, but all of them need more than these stupid things. EVEN JESTERS (which ill get back to later) NEED the space of a full tent, this is even more important if you have yourself a Bunch of clowns. Clowns often do a lot better in Bunches than alone.
FEEDING YOUR CLOWN:
clowns dont eat children!!!!! clowns eat a variety of foods including corn dogs, candy floss, candy apples, pop corn and hot dogs. some recent breeds also enjoy pizza and hamburgers. nearly all clowns love to eat treats like deep fried oreos and mac n cheese balls but its very important to limit those as TREATS. its unhealthy to feed your clown only treats! not only can their coat and markings fade, but they’ll often feel ill and wont play, clown, hula hoop or even blow a regular balloon (let alone bend balloon animals). they can also develop behavioral problems if not fed the right diet. IT IS WIDELY POPULARIZED that pellets are a complete diet and thats absolutely not true. pellets do not offer the full spectrum of nutrients that clowns require and the boring texture makes them sad :(. for proper care, ensure your clown gets a good variety of fresh foods! buying your own candy floss machine is an excellent idea if youre planning to stay in the hobby.
IF YOUR CLOWN WONT EAT:
first of all know that there is probably an underlying issue with husbandry (especially with circus clowns but we’ll get to that later) heating, enrichment or socialization. do they have enough space? is the sediment in their arena clean? do they have an array of toys, juggling items and balls? do they need to go to the Honk Park to meet some friends? those are issues you need to review to permanently resolve the issue, but some clowns really are just picky, if you need to get a clown to eat, a really solid method is to pretend the food item is an airplane! if that doesn’t work try a land vehicle like a car or train that might be more recognizable. its most important you figure out whats causing the issue in the first place above all else.
WHERE SHOULD I GET A CLOWN FROM?
clowns can be bought from breeders, clown stores, clown shelters, or clown rescues and each have different aspects that need to be considered.
clown stores sell clowns, but often those clowns come from clown mills which dont offer any enrichment, proper footwear, cars, party supplies or feed for them. most agree that clown stores are not a good place to get yourself a clown, the fact they have been mistreated can also often affect how they interact, such as a fear of humans or children. it may be tempting to buy that sad looking boingo, but know that by doing so you are supporting that industry even if your heart is in the right place.
if buying a clown from a breeder you can fully ensure that clown comes from a good line that carries the qualities you need (good with children, expert in impressions etc.) you can also find very interesting purebreds of rarer species like mimes! this is often a good choice for your first clown.
a clown shelter is also a good place to get a starter clown, although you cant often find the clowns lineage or pedigree, it can often be assumed from their markings what sort of a clown they are, a lot of people like shelter clowns because its getting a clown off the street and into a nice warm tent with proper enrichment so they can lead a fuller happier life. in a clown sanctuary you can also observe clown behaviors to see which fits your home best. just know if you go to get one, you’ll probably leave with three, they like being in family groupings and theyre just so cute!!
clown rescues are an important business to support, but its important to know rescue clowns often have behavioral issues that can make them more difficult to care for. some clowns after being tormented by children do not like them and may act aggressively. some rodeo clowns may have an appetite for destruction. some clowns may have been picked on and dont like staying in Bunches with other clowns, some may have irrational fears of natural clowning behaviors like playing in tiny cars, balloons popping and of course pies. most rescue clowns are afraid of pies. just because its funny doesnt mean its good for the clown. if youre thinking about adopting a rescue clown, make sure you’re prepared for the special rehabilitation they need.
WHATS A GOOD STARTER CLOWN:
there is no real true “starter clown” all clowns require detailed care. some clowns are more forgiving though. Some common clowns you should know about (and probably already know some about) include
circus clowns: everybody knows a circus clown when they see them, theyre robust, entertaining and very skillful, theyre one of the only clowns which can properly use a party cannon! (note, no other clown should be offered use of a party cannon. circus clowns have special shock absorbers that allow them to safely use them, other clowns do not and can become seriously injured.) due to this, and their recognizable markings, many breeders recommend these as starter clowns. THIS IS VERY FOOLISH. circus clowns are very picky about husbandry and can even go off feed if they arent given the proper requirements! they NEED at least two other clowns to properly thrive as well as a large arena to romp in, a small car is also highly recommended. they often go through a bale of candy floss a day!!!
jesters: the common misconception about jesters is that they only need a very small space (clown starter kit ugh) to thrive. this is absolutely a lie. in the wild jesters DO sometimes take refuge in small places during the night, but during the day they are provided an entire courtyard to play in. clown shops often perpetuate this myth so they can sell you cheaper more breakable clown supplies as well as decreasing the lifespan of your jester so you’ll need to get a new one. it is true jesters take comfort in small private spaces, but that means its important to provide them with hides amidst their enclosure, when cared for properly they are an extremely beautiful species and Bunches of them often perform gentle acrobatics. be cautious though! theyre feisty, they love physical humor and will not hesitate to throw objects at handlers, maybe not a good choice for small children.
lastly, party clowns: these little guys are probably the closest thing to a starter clown you can get. they arent very picky with food, their needs for space arent too enormous, they only require a medium or small tent (unless you have a Bunch) and they can be kept alone! solo party clowns often bond very closely with their families! but the more the merrier! theyre often very mild mannered and gentle with children. it is important to allow them time to recuperate so they need about 12 hours of sleep on average. they come in a variety of different styles and as long as they’re provided with proper footwear they are usually quite long lived.
hopefully that helped clear up the mystery of clown keeping! remember to do your research and take care of your clown! if you can no longer take care of your clown or your Bunch, please contact a local shelter so that they can find a new home! clowns do well moving on to new places! take care everybody happy clowning!
“So look, if you push this button here, it locks your screen so you dont accidentally hit anything while you’re out doing… whatever it is you do.”
“While I’m out guarding the galaxy.”
Tony’s lips twitched into a smile. “Sure, Star Lord. While you are out guarding the galaxy.”
“Do I detect some jealousy?”
“Definitely.” Tony shook his head with a little smile. “Space terrifies me. Want to be a spaceman, stuck on earth being a cowboy.
“Cowboys are cool.” Peter shrugged. “Besides, no need to worry about space when I’ll keep you warm and safe.” Peter winked at him and Tony looked away, flushing a little.
“Anyway, this little button here will keep your song playing steadily no matter what you’re doing.”
“You know, my Walkman did that too? No fancy technology required.” Peter argued, then he looked sad. “Miss my Walkman.”
Tony stared at him for a full minute. “So you aren’t grateful for this insanely expensive Stark Phone that I personally loaded over a thousand songs that I thought you would enjoy onto it? Is that what I’m hearing right now?”
“No.” Peter tried not to laugh at the horribly offended look on Tony’s face. “No. I appreciate it. It’s amazing.”
“But you miss your piece of shit Walkman.”
“Nostalgia man!” Peter argued. “Aren’t you nostalgic about anything?”
“Suck it, Space man.” Tony huffed and gathered up everything he’d brought to show off and turned and stomped out of the room.
“Nice goin.” Rocket snarked, baring his pointy teeth in a little smile. “Richest, most powerful guy on earth and you insult him when he gives you a present. Smart, StarTwat. Smart.”
“It is not Peter’s fault he is so foolishly attached to items from his childhood that he pushes away all attempts from the Iron Man to give him new things.” Drax interjected. “Just because it is stupid does not mean he doesn’t have the right to be nostalgic.”
“Um, thanks.” Peter sent Drax a look, knowing the guy was just trying to be comforting in that awkward, over literal, blunt way of his.
“I think you should stop flirting with him, and just get our gear fixed so we can leave.” Gamora said shortly, barely looking up from her book.
“I am Groot?”
“Tell me about it.” Rocket narrowed his eyes at the green woman. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Gamora. We all saw you flirting with that scary redhead. Don’t be mad at Peter for chasing some tail.”
“I am Groot.”
“No. No that’s not what chasing tail– I don’t mean Peter literally has a tail to chase.”
“That’s enough.” Peter sighed and ran his hands through his hair miserably. “I hope Stark isn’t too upset. We were having a good time.”
“And you think he is attractive and want to see him naked.” Drax pointed out.
“As long as he keeps fixing our gear, I don’t care what you and he do. Just don’t do it here.”
“Thanks for that Gamora. You know, there are two types of people in this world. People who–”
The woman got up and walked out of the room and Peter stared after her.
“That was rude. Wasn’t that rude?”
“I am Groot.”
“Yeah, I’m tired of hearing him bitch too. Let’s go twig.” The rest of the team filed out, leaving Peter alone on the couch, kicking himself for driving the brilliant hottie known as Tony Stark away.
Julius Caesar was stabbed by the Roman Senators, not hugged. Yet, if the ancient senators were actually Bewears, hugging Caesar would have been equally effective as a method of assassination. According to the Pokédex, Bewear has a habit of hugging its trainers…to death. So today, let’s figure out how this might happen.
The human spine, also known as the vertebral column, is a vital part of our skeleton and nervous system. It is made up of 33 different bones called vertebrae, separated from each other with intervertebral discs. The first seven (colored in red) are called cervical vertebrae and are located in your neck. The middle twelve bones in your back (in blue) are called the thoracic vertebrae. The lower back (in yellow) consists of the lumbar vertebrae. The last 9 vertebrae (5 in green / 4 in pink) are fused together and form the sacrum and the coccyx, or your tailbone.
It’s not easy to break a spine; the discs between each vertebrae are made of squishy cartilage that is specifically designed to absorb shock and prevent your back from breaking. The segmented nature of the vertebrae allows the back to bend in several directions, also to avoid breaking by being flexible. Not to mention the walls of muscle that surround it.
For death to occur, the individual vertebrae need to shift dramatically so they damage the nerve that runs through the middle of them. Typically, spinal-injury deaths are related to the phrenic nerve, which connects your brain to your lungs and allows breathing to happen. Several arteries also run through the vertebral column, and if they are pinched or crushed it can result in a stroke.
Of course, how much force needed to break a spine depends on whose spine you are crushing: children have more delicate spines than adults, and so on. However, it also depends on where on the spine you are crushing. The neck (cervical spine), for example, requires a force of 3,000 Newtons (roughly 700 pounds) to fracture. But Bewear doesn’t strangle its victims, it hugs them – so Bewear is attacking the thoracic and lumbar vertebrae. Various studies find the absolute limit for lumbar vertebrae to be about 1600 Newtons (360 pounds) of force.
This is surprisingly reasonable. Boxers and professional martial artists’ punches have been documented over 4,000 Newtons (900 pounds), and kicks can exceed 9,000 Newtons (2,000 pounds). Squeezing is a little different, since it is pure muscle work instead of a forward thrust, and human grip strength at its strongest is about 150 pounds. So you might not be able to crush a spine with your bare hands, but can Bewear crush a spine with its bear hands?
Probably. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but most animals are stronger than humans in terms of muscle exertion. Some chimpanzees have been shown to be eight times stronger than humans. This is mostly because of the way we use our muscles: humans have developed a lot of control. We can finely tune our muscles, precisely control our finger movements, only using certain muscle fibers at one time. This saves us energy in many ways: you don’t have to use your entire bicep to lift up a pencil, like you might when you’re lifting weights. Other animals don’t have this control: It’s all or nothing for them. Physically, the way their muscles activate prevents them from having the fine control that we have. In other words, Bewear is incapable of giving a small hug. It can only give big, spine crushing squeezes.
Bewear’s hugs must deliver a force of 1600 Newtons (360 pounds) in order to break a trainer’s vertebral column.
Summary: Internationally celebrated crew of Patriot Three, a rag-tag group of astronauts, assimilate back into life on Earth after months in space.
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Chris “Thor” Odinson, Tom “Loki” Odinson, Wanda Mamixoff, Scott Lang, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, and more.
Warnings: space related nerdery, violence, sex, drugs, drinking, cheating, lying, humor, angst, language, sadness, happiness, and more. Reader beware.
Author’s Note: Well, well, well. Here we are, sitting on the brink of the future. I (among of a bunch of you) am obsessed with space. I wanted to be an astronaut as a child but it turns out, you have to like… know stuff… to go to space so I will forever be stuck to planet Earth. So, second best, you get a series where I live out my fantasies of being apart of the NASA/Space exploration family.
Please note: This series is set in the year 2060 and it is really, really, really the definition of an “au” (alternate universe), so much so… you could call it… original content. **GASP.**
I got a lot of feedback about this series and I am super excited to see it come to life. Not only will I be posting the main story line, I will be creating other things to really bring my ‘verse to life like: interviews with the astronauts, profiles, letters, articles, etc.
Nineteen fifty-seven was a pivotal year for the Chevrolet Corvette. It was the first year for a four-speed transmission, while its Small Block V-8 grew to 283 cubic inches (4.6L) and offered mechanical fuel injection. Those “fuelie” models established a new performance benchmark by delivering one horsepower for each cubic inch of displacement.
It was also the first year Chevrolet offered options dedicated to enhancing the Corvette’s track capability. They included option 579E, known as the “airbox” package, and option 684, which was a heavy-duty suspension package commonly known as the “big brake” package. The airbox package featured a special sealed air intake that drew cooler air from the front of the engine compartment which helped the fuelie 283 run stronger during long races.
Ferrari F40, 1987. Today, July 21, is the 30th anniversary of the official presentation of the F40 at the Civic Centre in Maranello, now home to the Ferrari Museum. Created to celebrate the company’s 40th anniversary, it was the last car “signed off” by founder Enzo Ferrari.
Ferrari has gathered together the memories of three of its creators: Ermanno Bonfiglioli, then Head of Special Projects, Leonardo Fioravanti, a designer for Pininfarina, and test driver Dario Benuzzi.
Ermanno Bonfiglioli, who as Head of Special Projects was responsible for supercharged engines, has not forgotten the excitement of that 21 July: “I have never experienced a presentation like that of the F40. When the car was unveiled, a buzz passed through the room followed by thunderous applause. No one, except for close associates of Enzo Ferrari, had yet seen it. Indeed, the company had cloaked the development and testing of that car in unusual secrecy. And the surprise at such a stylistic leap was almost shock. The timeframe was also unusual, within the very short arc of 13 months, the chassis and bodywork moving ahead quickly and at the same pace as the powertrain. It was June 1986 when we began designing the engine of the project F 120 A. The 8-cylinder 478 hp twin-turbo was a derivative of the 288 GTO Evoluzione’s, but a number of innovative contents enabled the F40 to become the first production Ferrari to exceed 320 km/h. We paid maximum attention to the weight of the engine, thanks also to the extensive use of magnesium, such as oil sump, cylinder-head covers, intake manifolds, and gearbox bell-housing were in this material that cost five times as much as aluminium alloy and that was never used in such quantities in subsequent production cars. This is just a small example of this car’s "difference”.
Leonardo Fioravanti was a designer at Pininfarina when he was invited by Enzo Ferrari to Fiorano to try the 288 GTO Evoluzione: “when il Commendatore asked for my opinion on this experimental prototype, which due to regulatory issues never went into production, I didn’t hide my enthusiasm as an amateur driver for the incredible acceleration of its 650 hp. It was then that he first talked to me of his desire to produce a “true Ferrari”. We knew, as he knew, that it would be his last car. We threw ourselves headlong into the work. Extensive research at the wind tunnel went into aerodynamic optimisation, to achieve coefficients appropriate for the most powerful Ferrari road car ever. Its style matches its performance: the low bonnet with a very tiny overhang, the NACA air vents and the rear spoiler, which my colleague Aldo Brovarone placed at right angles, made it famous. If I had to point out one overriding reason for the success of the F40, I would say that its line succeeded in instantly transmitting the exceptionality of its technical content: speed, lightness, and performance.“
Dario Benuzzi, a Ferrari’s long-term test driver, participated in an arduous and meticulous testing job: "The handling of the first prototypes was poor. To tame the power of the engine and make it compatible with a road model, we needed to subject every aspect of the car to countless tests: from the turbochargers to the braking system, from the shock absorbers to the tyres. The result was an excellent aerodynamic load and high stability even at high speed. Another important aspect was the tubular steel frame with Kevlar reinforcement panels, which provides three times more torsional rigidity than that of other cars of the period, and a bodywork made mainly of composite materials that reduced weight to just 1100 kg. We obtained precisely the car we wanted, with few comforts and no compromises. With no power steering, power brakes or electronic devices, it demands the skill and commitment of the driver but generously repays it with a unique driving experience. Steering precision, road holding, braking power and intensity of acceleration reached unmatched levels for a road car.
AU where everything is the same except the shield is an artifact like Mjolnir. Maybe it’s a long-lost Asgardian thing, maybe it’s some other non-Earth object. Point is, the shield is enchanted so that it only obeys the will of the wielder if their primary goal is protection. It’s just about impenetrable, can absorb any shocks, and strong enough to cut through or destroy just about anything–which would make it a perfect weapon, if anyone could figure out how to fucking use the thing. It doesn’t obey any laws of physics or movement as we know it, and SSR spends years experimenting with it until they finally give up and stick it in a crate somewhere.
How would Scully react to Mulder dropping a condom wrapping in the office?
not fucking well, dude. i just realized this wasn’t in the office, sorry!
set… post one son.
She misses him. This detail is what sometimes turns that steady simmer of annoyance – always present, even on their best days, it’s just elemental to feel whittled and weakened by him, just as it is to feel his necessity – into a rapid, unforgiving boil. And she loathes it as much as he does. This anger wears her down. This anger makes her stupid. She is weighed by it, can’t control it. And when she misses him, it’s even harder to rationalize.
But how could she not miss him? Mulder rewrites everything she has ever known about companionship. There is a seeking missile in him that works and works to pinpoint all that Dana Scully is missing in her life, and then it works to fill it.
And he is sweet. Oh, he is sweet. The gentler side of Mulder is actually all grit: the sandpaper of it smooths her out, those rugged, wary edges of her oscillating mistrust. He doesn’t listen. He never listens. He is his own first thought when he wakes up and he is the one he falls asleep to. He betrayed her. But he helps her with her coat at the end of a long work day. He is patient with her, does not take her resentment for granted. He is a shock-absorber for her bitterness. A continent-jumper, all in her honor. He carries on with his half of their partnership as if nothing had changed, his unshakable optimism imploring her that it really hadn’t. He flirts with her. He fights with her. He gets her coffee right.
But this morning he takes it further. She begins to wonder how deep her hostility cuts him – she begins to worry. He comes into the office in a rumpled suit, his face unshaven. He downs aspirin and coffee in three hour intervals. It had been almost a year since she had seen him this disheveled, back when he had nothing to believe in.
Except for her.
He clings to her. In every other way but physically, finds a million different things to talk about, fills up even the healthy silences with his rambling chatter. “Scully?” he asks. Every time she takes too long to answer. “Scully?” And that total relief when she looks up to reply. He stays in the basement for lunch, eats nothing, when she tells him she brought her lunch with her. Follows her when she checks on results from the print lab. She’s annoyed, but mostly bewildered. Then there’s the physical. His hand on her back, yes, but her shoulders, too, her wrists. It bothers her that she doesn’t mind it so much. She can’t remember the last time she really had to take care of Mulder.
“Are you alright?” she runs her hand through his hair. She misses that, too. He looks up at her, startled, but quickly molds his face into something more neutral.
“Just not feeling well, Scully.”
She doesn’t press. She’s too doubtful of her place in Mulder’s life too often, these days. But she does let him cling. She softens her voice when she speaks to him. She doesn’t brush him off, she let’s go of all of the hurt, at least for the day. He seems more than grateful for it, almost to the point of awe. It bothers her… that she doesn’t mind it so much. That she needs to be needed like this.
At the end of the day, they’re putting on their coats. Their quiet is easy and Mulder, for the most part, appears recuperated. He drapes her in her wool, like always, keeps his hands on her for a little longer than necessary. She waits for him while he slips into his suit jacket, figuring they might as well ride out together.
“I was thinking… about those prints they lifted from the victim’s car. There’s something off about the sebaceous composition. The lab says they’ve never seen it before.” She lets him lead her to her car in the bustling garage, handing out her peace offering without the hint of a smile. “Why don’t you come over and explain to me why that means it couldn’t possibly be terrestrial in nature?”
His face lights up. God, damn him. She feels like she’s been kicking a puppy in the same tender spots for months and months. “Scully, I thought you’d never ask.” He reaches into his pocket for his own keys. “I’ll bring pizza. You still eat that, right? If you think I’m going to argue with a Dana Scully fueled on nothing but coffee and granola – shit.” Not paying attention, his keys fall to the ground with a metal splatter.
“Here, let me – “ she bends down to scoop them up, but freezes when her eyes hit the concrete.
That dark, primordial filth inside of her, the rigid tension in her protoplasm. She blacks out, like she always does. In these moments she only has the capacity to feel everything wrong. She slowly picks up the keys, and the empty condom wrapper along with it.
“Scully,” Mulder says. “Scully.”
He uses too many words. The details of an event write themselves on his face so plainly. In ruined seconds she pieces out, from his guilty, avoidant eyes and the slowness with which he forms his thoughts, what happened, who it happened with. A full case report with only a mental photograph. Her grip around the keys and wrapper tightens, but he won’t take them from her. So she lets them fall back on the floor.
She never remembers what it’s like to hate someone this much. What inspires a woman to run her lover over with her car, empty out her gun into his heart, play in the meat left over. She’s in her car before she knows it, yanking the door out of his hands with less force than she meant for. In that moment, she doesn’t miss him.
Overwatch fic: The catdads and that time they met up with McCree after the Fall.
Remember when I said I was writing this, a year and a day ago? No warnings. The cut is just for length. *** Jesse’s clients showed him the documentation on his targets before he took the job, and it’s pretty clear he’s after a real pair of desperadoes. These two have left a trail of bodies, theft, and occasional devastation in their wake from one hemisphere to the other, and he reckons it’s about time someone put a stop to it.
When they nail him in an ambush, he realizes that someone’ll have to be someone else.
His arms get pinned from behind by a grip that feels like a bear’s, claws and all. The other one drops down in front of him from an awning three stories up and then uncoils from his crouch like he’s made of shock absorbers. “Jesse McCree,” that one says in a low growl of a voice. Grand, being recognized always goes so well for him. “You look like a werewolf, kid.”
The man holding him laughs. It sounds beyond rough, almost inhuman, and kinda smug. Jesse knows it well. He’s heard that insult more than a few times, too.
“Well, damn,” he says faintly as the shock sets in.
It’s been a month since that night in Vegas and no matter how many women I pick up, no one has compared to her. It seems like just plain old vanilla sex just isn’t enough anymore. Yeah, I get off but it’s just not the same. Then there was the one other time I tried the sub thing with another chick…it got weird, quick.
The question is simple on the surface, asked in the lilting, dreamy tone that Rina uses for everything that happens outside of a fight. She’s a beautiful flower of a girl, the finest rose ever to grow in the gardens of Jupiter. No one had expected her to be chosen as her planet’s protector. The good money had been on her younger sister, which would have put Sailor Jupiter a year behind her cohort, yes, but age differences among the Senshi are not unknown–have even helped to forge some of the strongest teams in the long history of the solar system–and Rina had always seemed singularly unsuited for the battlefield.
It was a concern that has been proven groundless over and over again. Rina may be a dreamer, but when she calls thorns up from the soil, she can destroy the enemies of Crystal Tokyo with as much efficiency as any soldier since the dawn of the second Silver Millennium. She is a soldier to her core, this dainty little figure with rose briars in her hair, and so her questions are given the same weight that is afforded to any of the others.
Masami is the first to answer, twisting a ribbon of flame between her fingers as she says, “I hope not.”
“Why?” Rina frowns as she turns, the motion knocking flower petals from the rose-colored cascade of her hair. "Don’t you want to be remembered?“
"Becoming a legend means fighting something so big, so terrible, that no one dares forget about it, lest it come again. I don’t want that. I want to fight small battles, the kind you can defeat before dinner. The kind that never get anywhere near our Princess.” Masami shakes her head. "She deserves better than to live in a time of legends. We all do.“
"Don’t you want to live up to the legacy of your planet? Don’t you want children to argue over who gets to be Mars when they play at recess?”
Masami smiles. "No. Let them fight over Uranus and Neptune and Mercury, if they want to play at living now; they fight enough to be Mars when they play at living in the past. Mars is beloved enough without making me its latest legend. I am at peace with the Senshi who came before me.“
"Easy to say, when they don’t point at you and call you the weak one,” murmurs Rina. The dreaminess is gone from her tone, replaced by something darker: bitterness. Regret.
Masami sits up straighter. "What are you saying?“
"That maybe Jupiter chose wrong.” Rina stands, shedding more flower petals as she goes. "Maybe my planet would have been happier with someone who could be a legend.“
"You don’t know what you’re–”
“I think she knows exactly what she’s saying, don’t you?” There’s nothing dreamy about this question. This question is bright, painful cheer, the kind of brilliance that blinds without enlightening. Masami stiffens.
There’s time, she thinks, her hand inching toward her transformation wand.
When the heel slams down on her wrist, grinding the bones against the ground, she doesn’t scream. She’s proud of herself for that, for an instant. Then all the world is burning light, and she’s screaming, and there’s nothing to be proud of anymore. Nothing at all.
Natsuki rarely transforms. She rarely needs to. The Moon is at peace, and with it, the solar system; there are no dangers within or without for her to face. She still trains with her Senshi, and watches as they train with her mother’s Senshi. She enjoys the feeling of strength and swiftness and, yes, serenity that comes with her transformation–but her time needs a Princess more than they need another soldier, and so she most often stands by her mother’s side, head bowed in polite deference, trying not to think about the day when all this will be her responsibility. When she’ll trade her name for a crown and become Queen Serenity, just like her mother before her, and her mother’s mother before that, and back, and back, all the way to the beginning of everything.
Sometimes she wishes she’d lived in an earlier time, a time of legends, a time of battles that would actually need one more warrior for love and justice. But most of the time she’s happy to be who she is, to be when she is, a daughter of the moon, nothing less and nothing more. Most of the time.
When Mars and Jupiter are ripped away from her–her first Senshi and her last, her courage and her innocence, without whom she barely knows how to stand–the loss strikes her like a physical blow. She falls to her knees in the hall, eyes blank, hands useless at her sides, the Silver Crystal pulsing in her chest. She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe. How is it that there’s so much air in the world, so much air all around her, and she can’t breathe?
Their absence is a hole in her heart. She barely finds her feet, barely finds the strength to grasp her locket and thrust her hand into the air. "Moon.“
That’s the beginning, yes. That’s who she is. Sailor Moon, Moon Princess, Natsuki, daughter of Serenity, who will be Queen. She has it.
It hurts, it hurts so badly. She can’t do this without them. She was never supposed to lose them. This isn’t the time of legends. Her grandmother passed the crown in peace, fading as Serenitys always fade when their time is done, when the phase of the moon changes under their feet. Her Senshi are her handmaids, her protectors, not her peers. They’re supposed to be here. They’re not supposed to leave her.
She’s never had power. She’s never needed power. She’s a princess, pretty and perfect and cosseted and raised in love, in love, in lo–
The ribbons wrap themselves around her, pink and blazing and perfect, as they have always been, each time they wrapped themselves around a daughter of Serenity’s line. They count from the second Serenity, the one who truly founded the line that may last from here until forever; the one who knew love was a gift, and not a weapon. There was no need for a Sailor Moon before the first Queen Serenity did her best to break the universe. Sailor Moon healed it. She has always been the Sailor of Healing, of Love, of Justice. Of Necessity. She is so much stronger than she knows. She has to be.
The ribbons draw tight and Natsuki is gone, Sailor Moon in her place, moonlight-colored hair drawn into high odango, formal gown replaced by a skirt short enough to fight in, shoes designed to absorb the shock of her jumps, top tight enough to support her spine and protect her internal organs. She gasps, glittering with the bright and terrible power of transformation, and runs. Her Senshi need her.
Kaito and Souma walk hand in hand along the shore of the lunar sea. Kaito hums to herself, and even untransformed, hears the sea humming sweetly back. Souma is silent, but watches her with sloe-eyed adoration. The wind that tangles in Kaito’s hair might as well be Souma’s fingers, pushing it away from the shorter Senshi’s face, leaving every scrap of her clear to view.
“See something you like?” asks Kaito.
“Always,” says Souma, and grasps her elbow, spinning her out, pulling her back, until Kaito is pressed against Souma’s chest, the two of them tangled in each other’s arms as they have been for so beautifully much of their lives. Yoshiko rolled her eyes when they first came to her for training, until she found ways to chain wind and waves together, to turn two Senshi would refused to be parted into a single hyper-efficient weapon. Not that they’ve ever been needed in that way; not that any of them have ever been needed in that way. They live in peacetime. They are Souma and Kaito before they are Uranus and Neptune, and they are happy. Sweet stars, they’re happy.
Let the girls who stand closer to the Princess dream of becoming legends, of facing great dangers and carrying out noble missions. Saturn leads. Mars and Mercury advise. Jupiter restores. Pluto watches. And Neptune and Uranus love. What more could be asked of the protectors of a Princess?
The wind blows, carrying the scent of ice and emptiness. Souma stiffens. Kaito catches it immediately. She pulls back, frowning as she scans her lover’s face.
“What is it?”
“I don’t…I don’t know.” Souma looks over her shoulder. "Something’s wrong.“
“Wrong we should transform. I think…I think the Princess needs us.”
They are peaceful people. They are lovers walking on a shoreline. They are transformed and gone in a matter of seconds, leaving a circle of glass where they were standing, sand melted by the force of their panic. They do not run so much as they leap, verging on flight in the low lunar gravity as they chase down the source of the coldly blowing wind. They have to hurry. They have to hurry. The farther they go, the more the certainty grows, in both of them, that time is running short.
The scent on the wind becomes a raging battle as they grow nearer. Ice spires blast upward from the ground, encircled by the all-devouring shadows of Saturn’s attack. Then there is a burst of silver glitter, and haste becomes panic. Their Princess is fighting. Sailor Moon is fighting. If their Princess has been moved to transform, then–
The golden chain wraps around Neptune’s ankle and jerks her down, slamming her against the ground before she can find the breath to summon her attack. Then there is no breath, there is no body, there is nothing but–
–screaming, screaming, because she is alone, yes, she is alone here on this world without a name. How can Haruka have done this? How could she go? She didn’t have to go, she could have fought, could have stayed, could have conquered death itself with Michiru at her side. They didn’t need forever, but they should have had more time, they should have had centuries, eons, time, and time, and time. How dare she–
The name is familiar. The voice is not. For the first time in a thousand years, Michiru opens her eyes and looks at the battlefield, confusion breaking her usual calm. A girl she doesn’t know flings ice with geometric precision at Jupiter, while another girl with hair as white as seafoam swings Saturn’s glaive in a defensive arc, holding Mars at bay. In the center of the battlefield, a girl in what looks almost like Usagi’s fuku, but bleached, faded into pastels, fights…
The girl in front of her is too young: that is the first of it. They’re all girls on this battlefield, not yet women. This one, with her golden hair and her too-familiar fuku, is no different. She stares at Michiru with something caught between confusion and horror, and her eyes are a study in heartbreak.
“What did you do?” she asks. She takes a step forward. The wind whips around her, already rising, even though she has yet to shape it. "Where is Sailor Neptune? What did you do to her?“
Understanding crashes down like a wave. "You’re so young,” Michiru whispers. "You found each other so young. How can she…I am so sorry. I shouldn’t be here.“
“Where is Kaito?!” demands this new Sailor Neptune, this sweet child, and raises her hands over her head. "Tell me!“
"No!” Michiru scrambles to her feet. The old power moves through her, welcoming her home. She knows the fight better than this child does. She could grind her into gravel, and let…let…
She could have Haruka back, and all it would cost is the life of her replacement, this fresh-faced child who doesn’t understand how much she has to lose. She could allow her selfishness to remake the world.
“I am so sorry,” she whispers, and, “Deep Submerge,” she howls, and the pretender, the successor, is washed away in the face of a superior opponent.
It won’t last long. No version of Sailor Uranus will ever be that easy to take down. Michiru gathers her strength and leaps, aiming for the source of this trial.
Sailor Venus–who remembers, who cannot age, who cannot die, who has never been released from service–is so deeply sunk into her battle against Sailor Moon that the blow to her side takes her by surprise. She hits the ground on her hip, sliding hard, and before she can get her balance back, Neptune is there, her elbow held against Venus’s throat, a feral light in her eyes.
Minako smiles. "There you are,“ she says, smug as Artemis with a bowl full of cream. "You’re welcome. But you hit the wrong target.”
“Put us back,” snarls Michiru. "We’re the dead. We’re the past. Release us, and bring these children home.“
"You’re not the past,” says Minako, still smiling. "You’re a legend. Children play at being you, they fight over who gets to hold the mirror and the sword. Little girls dance in your name. You’re the present, and the future, and you deserve to live in peacetime so much more than the simpering little fool who pretends to hold your title. Let me lead you home.“
“Before she died, Haruka said the only thing she’d regret was leaving you.”
Selfishness is essential on the battlefield. There are those who would call it a failing, but without selfishness, what is there to lead the soldiers home? Michiru was always a poet of selfishness. She knew what she wanted. She knew how far she was willing to go in order to get it. She fought and she paid and she suffered and what was her reward? Being left alone, last one standing, broken-hearted and fading by inches. It’s tempting. It’s so tempting. She could have everything she ever lost, and all it would cost is one more enemy left to dust and ashes. She’s been damned since she tempted Haruka out of her comfortable, safe life. What’s one more damnation?
“No,” says Michiru calmly, and punches Venus square in the nose. The golden Senshi reels. "No,“ Michiru repeats, and punches her again.
She will reflect, later, on the fact that she could have won, if only she hadn’t looked so much like one of the enemy.
This new Uranus has her own attacks. ”Wind Spiral Snare!“ howls a voice that isn’t familiar enough to avoid, and Michiru is lifted away from Venus, lifted into the air kicking and howling fury and frustration.
Venus pauses long enough to blow a two-fingered kiss, and then she’s gone, a golden streak heading for the horizon, Jupiter and Mars behind her.
The wind cage shatters. Michiru drops to the ground on hands and knees. When she raises her head, it’s no surprise to find Sailor Moon, this new, young, innocent Sailor Moon, standing over her with a scepter in her hand and vengeance in her eyes. The others are behind her, Mercury and Uranus and Saturn, youth and fury incarnate.
"What have you done to our friends?” demands Sailor Moon.
Oh, to be so young. Oh, to have so much to lose.
For the love of Serenity, thinks Michiru, and aloud, she says, “The legends are true,” and oh, they are so like she was, and so different.
this might be a weird question for your blog lol but i feel like you know a lot about, uh, bones. why is neck length so varied in humans? i know we all have the same number of bones in there so is it just a difference of bone size or like space between the bones or what. it doesn't seem to correspond to other body proportions. thaaaanks.
It’s related to variable thickness in vertebrae and the position of the collarbone relative to the vertebrae!
So here’s the basic skeletal anatomy of the neck. You see those little pads between the vertebrae? Those are the vertebral discs. They’re basically little shock absorbers and their thickness can vary between individuals. Same with the bones themselves!
And then there’s the clavicles, or collar bones. This is what gives you really dramatic neck length differences. A person’s clavicle articulation points are relatively flexible compared to other articulations, and if your collarbones are lower (either naturally or artificially), your neck will appear longer. Take for instance the Kayan people of Burma/Myanmar. The women wear brass rings on their necks that seem to stretch it.
However, their vertebrae don’t get spaced apart- what happens is that the clavicle and scapulae (the shoulders) get pushed down, along with the first ribs. Here is an x-ray of a Kayan woman who has had her rings removed next to an x-ray of a person who never had neck rings.
I circled the clavicles in blue and made red arrows pointing to the first ribs. You can see that on the left, in the x-ray of the person whose clavicles are at the usual height, the neck looks a lot shorter. But the Kayan woman on the right? Her clavicles are pushed quite far down, and her ribs have moved a bit to compensate. This is obviously an extreme example, but even without modification, some people can have naturally lower collarbones that give the appearance of a longer neck!
How can a man that loves a woman make bruises on her? How can a man that loves her even do such a thing? I don't wanna be hit by no man I want cuddles and kisses and love. What is wrong with women that want to be hurt or beaten? Why do they want him to hit them?? I'm trying to understand why... if he is willing to hit or beat her is he abusive? What's abuse if it's not? Should a woman be okay with this? I'm a little having trouble understanding... I was beaten as a child and never want that.
I am really glad you asked this question, and I would encourage you to examine and process my answer with an open mind.
The thing to understand about BDSM in the first place is that its an adult kink. One in which most (ALL SHOULD) engage in with complete consent and respect for each other. It doesnt always happen that way, but the base and core of the old code dictates that it should. Its much more than leather and whips and chains… its much more than some 50 shades of garbage or terribly made porno would have you believe.
Some of the key elements that go along with what we call “Impact play”, that is what you describe above in loose terms, are things I would invite you to investigate more after you have finished reading this.
Consensual Non Consent
An element in which the parameters of the relationship and the scene (or playtime) is discussed ahead of time between the individuals. Basically what it means in simple terms is that the couple agrees to what will and wont happen and ACT as if the submissive in the relationship has no say in anything, no will, gives up their power, etc. to the Dominant. This should always come with the safe word option, that is.. the word that will bring an end to the activity and cause it to immediately come back to “vanilla” (the plain common worlds way) and then aftercare and such can be administered. This usually only exists during scene play, casual encounters of playtime, and in Master/slave relationships.
And yes it can be done the wrong way.. just as anything else in our lives and relationships can be. It can cause harm, it can cause mental and emotional damage, it can be abused… but so can anything in vanilla relationships
TOTAL POWER EXCHANGE
No two BDSM relationships are the same.Each has their own ways, rules, etc… but we all share common elements. You may also sometimes see the relationship referred to as D/s (Dominant/submissive) and with that, there are several… flavors we could call them.. of those relationships. The most extreme of which are Master/slave in which the “slave” gives up all and total rights.
But guess what… she does this willingly and of her own consent and control. These kinds of relationships usually come with preconceived contracts at the start, and clauses within those contracts that also include safe words for extreme situations. When the submissive or slave decides to give up complete power to her Dominant she is expressing that she also has total and complete trust in this person to care for her every need, fill her every desire and give her what she needs to feel whole
What she needs to feel whole is hers and hers alone. That could be anything from a daily spanking, to being tied to the porch and left for 8 hours a day. Thats her kink. her will. her desire… and she places those things in his hands with the trust that he can then reciprocate what it takes to please her.
Kinks can stem from various things
The world of psychology, anthropology and human studies is going to tell you a lot of things in regards to why people act the way they do and like what they like.
Just because a woman enjoys being spanked, doesnt mean she likes being slapped in the face. Just because she likes being slapped in the face doesnt mean she sees it as abuse.
A good portion of littles in the DD/lg and CG/l portion of the kink are the way they are because of things that happened in the past. More often things that happened just after the last time they felt safe and innocent. This is why you will see them talk about having a little age.. or more technically, a regression age.
regression therapy has been used since as long as anyone can remember in therapy and psychology in order to get the root of certain issues in people and then expose them to be able to begin the therapeutic process. Its nothing new, and the kink side of things uses it as many things… for kink, for coping, for safety and security… like I said, no two relationships in this lifestyle are the same. No two submissives, Dominants, slaves, littles, pets, etc are the same either… even if we all share commonalities.
Part of the kink is whats called IMPACT PLAY
Impact play in its most simple form is the use of physicality during scene play (playtime, sex, intimate time, etc)
This involves everything from spanking, to paddling, to flogging, slapping, objectification, and more. Basically anything that involves physical interaction in a way that isnt vanilla sex.
But again, realize this… its something that is talked about, agreed to, worked out and planned in advance. If it isnt, that’s rape. Not to be confused with rape play, which again, is just like impact play in that its agreed upon and worked out ahead of time with safety, limits and a safeword.
These are playtimes that involve the consent of both (or more) parties involved. And it is in no way shape or form about abuse.
The submissive asks the Dominant to do these things. And he does them because he loves her. He wants to fill her needs, he wants to see her be pleasured. And just because she derives that pleasure from taking a swat with a paddle or having hot wax poured on her… doesnt make her or the action wrong.
You might like to race cars, or eat spaghetti, or build dollhouses or whatever and if someone else doesnt get their pleasure from those things, they still dont have the right to tell you what to enjoy or how to enjoy it.
Just in the same way, no one has the right to tell her that enjoying the paddle or the saint andrews cross is wrong. Because its what she wants. Its what she consented to. Its how she copes, gets pleasure, gets the release she needs from stress of life and so on and so forth.
Taking the paddle is no different than being a quarterback in the NFL
One of the reasons a boxer becomes a boxer is because he enjoys the risk of being punched and hurt. But he also enjoys the rush and the feeling it gives him when said actions occur.
To put things in better perspective: Force = mass x acceleration
A good paddle is made of solid wood. Usually a quarter inch to half inch thick, with at least a 4 inch wide blade, and a 2 foot long paddle face. In the hands of an average built Dom, a paddle will hit the bottom of a submissive with roughly 800 lbs of force, traveling anywhere from 30 to 40 mph before strike at its most powerful swing. The bottom (depending on its size) takes a certain amount of the force and works as a shock absorb-er, rifling the waves of impact down her legs and up her spine and across her body . … and leaves considerable bruising, and gives her a full body experience she cannot get otherwise.
An NFL quarterback who is moving at a rate of about 10 mph away from his aggressor will take a tackle from a 250lb man with an impact of 1000 lbs of force at comparably 6G’s of speed.
Why do I compare the two?
Because both are consensual. Both are risk. Both have reward. Both are known about before hand, and both are beneficial to the parties involved. Is it wrong for the quarterback to willingly step into an arena where he knows the risk of being tackled and injured by a man much larger than him exists? and without a safe word to tell him to stop.
Then why is it wrong for a consenting woman who is actually in control of her situation to do the same?
Note: This section will contain facts from scientific studies, college courses, medical journals, doctoral papers, and sports medicine. These are things that I learned from college courses and the papers and studies that went into them.
The health benefits of activities that involve placing stress on the body (like high impact excersize and extreme sports) are enormous. In the same way, a good spanking can deliver a parallel experience to doing the Insanity workout.
Among the fact that the endorphin rush, dopamine enhancement, and feeling of accomplishment just for starters can bring, theres also the growth of cognitive functions in raising the brains awareness of the self.. which improves your executive functions or rather the higher level thinking skills you use.
the neurological growth that occurs through the changing and growth of the chemicals in the brain, which helps to increase your focus. during high impact situations you become micro aware of your own body and what its going through, which helps to increase self awareness and get in tuned with yourself.
Improving your focus makes you concentrate, which also improves your memory. the stress of the situation makes you think faster, which improves your reasoning and reaction.
Taking a good spanking can actually improve your willpower. Scientific studies show that a persons willpower (their ability to make decisions that are better for them than others and avoid those that are harmful) is actually linked to executive function of the brain… which is improved through the growth of cognitive function… which can come from high impact play.
High impact play is also scientifically shown to reduce stress, anxiety, give you emotional resilience.. it fights (and actually can prevent) depression, increases pain tolerance, reduces fatigue, makes your brain grow (encouraging the growth of new cells), improves mood and happiness, improves sleep, boosts productivity, reduces addictive behaviors, and overall improves, enhances and grows just about every positive aspect of your life.
AND IF ALL THAT DOESNT MAKE YOU THINK…
Then let me hand it over to some older submissives and littles that I asked about the subject. Because really, when you need an answer on something… get the facts from the source. So i surveyed 7 older submissives with great experience and here is what they told me:
Submissive female 1: “For me its cathartic, it gives me the ability to release whatever stress or shitty thing thats going on in my life. Its being able to place myself into the hands of someone who knows and loves me, and allow them to take everything that I can give, and give me everything that they can too. Its not about the pain, its about the growth of each person I think. It makes me feel strong. It makes me know I’m strong even when I feel like I’m not. D/s gives me security. It makes me feel at home. It helps me to know that I’ll be okay because I have someone who will help me be ok.
the impact part, thats where it becomes more than just a physical thing. Its a mental thing too. its a spiritual thing. It connects me with someone deeply… and it gets me off.”
Submissive female 2: “
In the above scenario, if a man is hitting a woman and it is not part of a negotiated, consensual scene it is abuse. This woman clearly is not interested in engaging in impact play, and therefore her partner should respect that.
In regards to her attitude, other people do things within their relationships that don’t make sense to others and would not work for them. For instance, I have a girl-friend who goes to the hospital for medical procedures alone. Even major surgeries. She doesn’t want her husband there. I can’t imagine going to have an organ removed from my body or a bone set with out my s-o there to support me. However, this is their preference and it works for them. I can’t tell them its wrong and I shouldn’t judge it because it isn’t my relationship, no one is being harmed, and both partners are happy.
In the case of sexual relation ships and consensual kink the same principle applies.they are both consenting, both happy with the situation, and no one is harmed or had their consent violated as a part of the experience, it is up to the individuals involved to determine if its right or wrong.
Submissive female 3: In my case its a turn that comes with an extreme amount of trust in the person doing the hitting. I need it for control in my life but to others it might be something different. It isnt abuse if both parties are in agreement of each others limits and the key word should look for is CONSENT for BOTH parties involved.
Why would you put bruises or marks on me? Think about it.
Personally I would feel owned if you marked me in that way… Sure you could just slap a ring on it and call it a day but marking is more intimate and means more to people receiving and giving the marks”
Submissive female 4: “If both adults consent than its not abuse. Like so many others, I have been abused physically, sexually, and psychologically… to this end I cannot abide verbal degradation or closed fists swinging in anger.
That said, on the days I am feeling numb, chaotic mentally, the lashes of physical pain give me something to focus on. When attempting meditation one uses mental exercises or recites a phrase. there are times in my life when that is effective. For days its not, physical pain gives me something which to start my focus so that my mind can follow suit once I hit that sub space.”
Submissive female 5: “Love doesnt have to physically hurt. However, the some people enjoy the contrasting sensations of pain and pleasure as they are opposites and heighten the senses. It would have to be in the confines of safe, sane and consensual with open communication and explicit direction as to what is and is not acceptable in their dynamic.
There are multiple ways to both give and receive love (as seen in the 5 love languages by Dr. Gary Chapman) and no one way is correct for every person and people can have multiple love languages. However, love should not be fear based out of physical attacks”
Submissive female 6: “i think its about the difference. Just like how theres a difference between spanking a child and abuse. It should never be done out of anger but rather to give a reminder to not break the rules.
When its done for the pleasure of the one being hit, it should still never be done out of anger. The sub has some control with the use of limits and safe words that would not exist in an abusive situation.
there are a lot of reasons why pain can be pleasurable. it is a reminder of your endurance, it provides a special warm and tingly sensation that is unique, and a spanking can send a vibration down through the body that touches on other sensitive areas.
i also like the sore feeling after a workout because it makes me feel strong and tough. plus the after care is so calming and affirming.”
Submissive female 7: “For me the purple bruises are beautiful reminders of my time with my Sir. I enjoy the spanks and hits to my ass and tits. i crave them from time to time. They are releases for me. Not punishments.
To me its not abuse because we have that trust and communication. The hits actually put me in a place where I dont think, but feel. it lets you just feel”
Notice the trends? consent… strength… thinking… feeling… trust…
Hopefully this has shed some insight on the topic and given you a better perspective on the lifestyle and the way impact play is treated and regarded.
You know, a lot of people don’t realize this but….
The animals at the zoo represent so many opportunities for biologists around the world to learn basic information about, well, animals! We get research proposals all the time from researchers, both among our own staff and globally, seeking permission to include the animals in their research. We approve the proposals that are of the greatest scientific value, that have potential to help us even further improve our qualities of animal care, and that are certain to cause no harm of any form to the animals. Recently two papers were published in major academic journals by scientists from regional universities that contribute some fascinating information to the global body of knowledge about animals.
Dr. Bonnie M. Perdue (Department of Psychology, Agnes Scott College) published:
Perdue, B.M. 2016. The effect of computerized testing on Sun Bear behavior and enrichment preferences.
Behavioral Sciences 6, 19; doi:10.3390/bs6040019
The field of comparative cognition investigates species’ differences and similarities in cognitive abilities, and sheds light on the evolutionary origins of such capacities. Dr. Perdue realized that, while cognitive studies commonly are conducted with animals such as dogs, elephants, primates, and even giant pandas, many animals have never been studied. So, she applied some standard methods, using an ingenious rugged computerized touchscreen apparatus, to our sun bears. Bears typically use their tongues to explore and manipulate their environment and, she found that the bears actively engaged the touchscreen menus with their tongues.
The screens had dabs of honey on them in the earlier trials, to draw the bears’ attention to these novel objects. Once familiarized with the screens, the bears proceeded to learn to interact with specific color- or shape-targets on the screen in exchange for treats. Soon, the bears were preferring to interact with the computer screens more than any of the other enrichment items available to them. This study discovered a new method by which bears can be studied and showed that the experiments were preferred by the bears who actively involved themselves at every opportunity. This is fascinating stuff!
Alexis Noel (a graduate student in Mechanical Engineering, Georgia Tech) and her colleagues published:
Noel, A.C., Guo, H-Y., Mandica, M., Hu, D.L. 2017 Frogs use a viscoelastic tongue and non-Newtonian saliva to catch prey.
Journal of the Royal Society Interface 14: 20160764.
Frogs can capture insects, mice and even birds using only their tongue, with a speed and versatility unmatched in the world of synthetic materials. How can the frog tongue be so sticky? In this multi-faceted study that included some frogs here, used high-speed films of frog feeding to understand the behaviors involved in tongue-feeding. Then they used high-tech measurements and characterizations of frog tongues at Georgia Tech to investigate the structural properties of frog tongues and saliva.
They found that the tongue’s unique stickiness results from a combination of an incredibly soft and stretchable anatomy soft and a saliva that simply does not follow the normal rules of how liquids respond to pressure. The tongue acts like a car’s shock absorber during insect capture, absorbing energy and so preventing separation from the insect. The unique saliva spreads over the insect during impact, grips it firmly to the tongue, and yet it slides off easily once it is back in the mouth. This combination of properties gives the tongue 50 times greater work of adhesion than known synthetic material (such as everyone’s favorite, the sticky-hand toy). These insights offer many new ideas and models for applications in industry and engineering. Yet more proof that frogs are the coolest animals on Earth!
To learn more things people dont realize about zoos here ~>