Label human muscle

Nihilism

2008.08.14 07:53 Nihilism

THIS SUBREDDIT IS CLOSED The official Discord is still open here: https://discord.gg/F36vaxj There is also a community on lemmy.world here: https://lemmy.world/c/nihilism We have closed the subreddit in protest of the upcoming API changes that will kill off third party apps and negatively impact Reddit's users.

[link]

2012.04.22 02:52 grozzle All moe, all the time.

For all kinds of moe art. Especially cute anime girls and boys being cute. Strictly SFW, with named sources. Content from anime, manga, visual novels, JRPGs, Vocaloids, Touhou, etc, and original works.

[link]

2013.03.18 04:52 tara1 People being total jerks

A place for sharing videos, gifs, and images of people being total jerks.

[link]

2024.05.15 23:56 Ordinary_Fig1896 The Pale Groom

March 26th, 2024 11:27 p.m. – I think I've done it. I've made a breakthrough on the antisera. With a simple, two amino acid change in the protein, the antisera binds more effectively to the brains neuroreceptors. With an electrolyte injection, I can reactivate neurons in the brains of diseased rodents. I believe that it can work on human specimens up to 3 days old. If this works, then I will have found a way to effectively bring patients back from beyond the point of death. I cannot overstate the importance of this discovery. All I need is a cadaver that’s fresh enough to experiment with. The three-day threshold will pose a unique challenge in acquiring a specimen. It will require further thought before I am to go ahead.
March 29th, 2024 1:18 p.m. – I have spoken with the hospital and the Department of Anatomy and have found a family who are scheduled to take a loved one of theirs off critical care tomorrow afternoon. They have agreed to send him to my lab following a short grieving ceremony. I have their written approval, though I have made no guarantee of my success. I don't want to give them too much hope. Particularly the patient’s fiancé, who the patient had been on route to the chapel to wed, when his car was struck by an oncoming SUV that had missed a red light. I'm worried that she more than anyone doesn't realize how much of a long shot this is. But I'll do my best.
March 30th, 2024 8:12 p.m. – The body has arrived. I have him right here, laid out on my bench. He’s a young man, 24 years of age. He is 6’ 1” and weighs 174 pounds. Aside from some exposed tissue above his right eye, and a fracture along the parietal skull, the head remains entirely intact. There is concern that any intracranial bleeding may interfere with the electrolyte solution. I don’t expect the antisera to revive him completely, but as long as there is some measure of brain activity now, six hours after he was pronounced dead, then I think this test can still be labelled a success.
March 30th, 2024 8:36 p.m. – I have administered 20mg of the antisera, and after a twenty-minute wait, have just administered an equal dose of the electrolyte solution. I noticed an immediate spike in brain activity in his parietal lobe. There was no movement from the patient, but after five minutes, I noticed a faint flutter in his eyelids. Talking in his ear shows a proportionate response in the auditory cortex. The brain is capable of taking in external input.
March 30th, 2024 9:00 p.m. – His eyes are open. At the present, they're only looking forward. He hasn’t yet glanced to look around the room, but his eyes are piercing in their focus, as if he’s processing more than just his initial surroundings. His pupils are an opaque white… what may be due to cataracts from damage to his ocular nerve from the incident.
March 30th, 2024, 9:08 p.m. – There’s movement. His fingers have started to jitter. They're feeling the cuffs of his coat. He still has on the black tuxedo he had wore to his wedding day. His head occasionally spasms, as though just now regaining feeling. Heartrate is 33 beats per minute. His hands have begun moving more noticeably up and down the sides of his body. He’s feeling his buttons, the flower of his lapel, and now the titanium top of the bench. It’s really quite remarkable. I’ve not detected even a flicker of movement in his moth-eaten eyes. He has not blinked since awakening.
March 30th, 2024, 9:12 p.m. He’s trying to stand. There are straps in place, but they're only loosely attached. They snap off with disappointing ease. Perhaps I should've been more optimistic and sprung for the thicker straps. There is a noise that he’s making... a low groaning, as though he is in pain or incapable of making more complex a sound.
March 30th, 2024, 9:14 p.m. I’ve tried speaking with him. I called him by his name. He doesn't respond. He’s now seated on the edge of the table. He’s breathing heavily, his chest noticeably rising and falling. A reflex test shows no response at all.
March 30th, 2024, 9:18 p.m. I’ve tried introducing myself. There’s no sign that he understands. He is still. I don’t know if he’s listening or if he’s even aware, but I think the sound of another person is at least calming for him.
March 30th, 2024, 10:25 p.m. Little has happened. The groom is much the same as he was an hour ago. I’ve taken photos of everything that I’ve observed tonight, but when I left the room to get the camera, I returned to find him standing in the corner of the room. At times, he'll stagger forward a step or two, or slouch against the wall. Always his head is down, his open mouth dripping drool on the floor while he stares ahead as if in a trance. I want to observe him for the night to see how he progresses. I am now seated at the desk in my office, which has a view of the lab from a large window. For the time being I will start recording my findings, but I will look often in case anything of interest happens.
March 30th 2024, 11:06 p.m. I am alerted by a loud crash. The patient has stumbled into a small table with scalpels, knocking them onto the linoleum floor with a clatter. His groaning now is louder now than before. I can hear it as clear as day through my window. It’s a deeply labored noise, creaking with every syllable as though his throat is severely dry.
March 30th, 11: 44 p.m. After completing my preliminary reports, I tried speaking with the patient, hoping that perhaps he could understand me. I explained the situation as simply as I could. I mentioned his wedding, the accident, and the agreement with his family. I went into detail about his operation. His pale eyes were watching me throughout, but there is no sign of any understanding in them. Still, at least he’s attentive. I might be naive for trying, but there's always a chance that he could be understand more than he seems.
March 31st, 12:01 a.m. There is a wailing from inside the room. A horrible, hair-raising cry that has me standing upright from my monitor the sound that I hear it. The noise persists, as if all he wants to hear is the sound of his own misery. He is moving erratically, lurching through the lab. He's knocked over the fire extinguisher, and, just now, the hospital gurney as well. There is no emotion in his face as he makes the most pitiful noises imaginable. I hope that I am not letting my own feelings cloud my judgment when I say that it sounds as though he is feeling a profound sorrow. His limbs flap loosely beside him, as though he still lacks the motor function to control them.
March 31st, 12:10 a.m. The groaning hasn't stopped. Any request for him to quiet down goes unheard. I’m reminded of a child feeling grief for the first time and not knowing what else to do with it than to cry as deeply as they can. Out of a grown man, the noise becomes chilling. It's much deeper and gruffer, like the cry of a wounded animal.
March 31st, 12:22 a.m. I have something I want to try. I've called his fiancé. She had expressed a great deal of interest in the success of the experiment when I met with her at the hospital, and when I explained on the phone to her what had happened to her fiancé, she agreed that she, more than anyone, could get through to him. I’ve called her a taxi and am waiting now on her arrival. It has been twenty minutes since the groom started to wail and he's still going. He stumbles into the wall from time to time and I am worried that he will only act more unpredictably as the drug continues to work.
March 31st, 12:35 a.m. The widow's taxi has arrived. I escorted her down to the laboratory. Behind the safety of the window, she is now looking at her husband for the first time since his recovery. She is noticeably shocked by his appearance. She looks like she might faint from the sight of him, but I can see also a hopefulness in her eyes that keeps her rooted in place. She sees as well as I do that he’s a great deal closer to what he was now than when he was lying unconscious on the hospital bed. She agrees to help when I ask her, though she only nods her response. Her eyes haven’t left her fiancés since the moment she's arrived.
March 31st, 12:41 a.m. We called to him, and the groom responded. He shambled up to the glass to where his bride was standing. He had stopped wailing. I watched his cataracts-riddled eyes stare at her with a dead, unwavering look. I’m not sure what’ was in them or what the man was thinking as he looked at the love of his life. But the response in the bride was profound. She was speechless, her hand trembling as she placed her fingers against the glass. The groom appeared not to have noticed the hand, his stare as focused as ever as he gazed intently into her eyes.
March 31st, 12:43 a.m. The bride has asked if she can go inside. I warned her against it, and when she insisted again, I raised my voice to make the point all the more clear. Whatever she saw in the dead man’s eyes was not her husband looking back. I think she’s blinded herself with nostalgia. The fact that she sees something of the old him in his eyes is just because she wanted there to be something of the old him still there. But when I look into those moth-eaten eyes, I see just the unaware, unresponsive look of an animal looking back at me. But she was adamant, and though I tried to hold her back, she still managed to force her way past me. She opened the door before I could stop her, and I watched in horror as she stepped out into the laboratory.
The groom had turned to face her. A low, raspy groan creaked from him. The two stood a meter apart, both looking into each other’s eyes. There was a bottle of sedative on my shelf. In this time, I took it, and drew a needle with one eye as I watched with the other at what was transpiring outside.
She took a step closer. She was practically standing beneath him. His breaths I noticed were ragged, panting into her forehead like a large dog. Pale, clammy fingers wrapped around her arms, and he drew her in. It was the first time I’ve seen him use his hands with any amount of purpose.
She didn’t struggle at first, and I could see that he was panting more heavily now, as though with excitement. She looked up at him, and him, down at her. His mouth hung slacked, occasionally stuttering or dripping droplets of saliva on her shoulder. But she didn’t seem to mind. Her eyes were half open, and she raised her head a bit to nuzzle his cheek with her nose. I could see that the groom had become still as he took in this newest sensation.
And then, with a noticeable breath, the bride pulled his head down and put his lips to hers. The groom’s groaning returned, but it was quieter and a higher pitch, more of a sing-song kind of noise. He pushed his lips against hers. His jaw slacked and his mouth poured over her mouth. I could see the shift from romance to disgust as she tried to push him off her. It was then that I heard the scream. It was muffled by the groom’s mouth over hers, and I could see that blood was starting to stream from her cheeks. His entire weight collapsed upon her, and the two crumbled to the floor as I bolted for the door. When I got in, I saw her flailing on the ground with the groom still at her face, a horrible slobbering sound slipping out from beneath the hysteric screams.
I plunged my syringe into his shoulder blade and administered the sedative. He hardly noticed. I waited a minute and then two for the effects to take hold, and all the while I had no choice but to listen to the shrieks of the woman, with not a thing I could do to help in the meantime.
March 31th, 12:58 a.m. The drug has finally taken effect, but the woman shows no signs of life. It wasn’t my first thought, but I fear for my research and the possibility of a civil lawsuit. Tomorrow morning I’ll tell the family that the experiment was a failure and ask if I can keep the groom’s body a little while longer in hopes that I can one day revive him. I think they are still hopeful enough to say yes. I will say nothing of the bride or the arrangement that we had made for her to come here tonight.
April 8th, 6:31 p.m. It’s been a week since the horrible events of March the 30th. The groom appears pleased with the latest results. I’m happy that he’s finally done with his infernal moaning. The bride is conscious and seems to have taken warmly to him. It’s a shame I couldn’t do something more about the face, but at least it doesn’t seem to bother them.

submitted by Ordinary_Fig1896 to Horror_stories [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 23:25 Potential_Scholar650 Complete Explanation Of "The Law on Transparency of Foreign Influence" By An Analyst

The law defines "political activity" and "foreign agent" in such broad terms that it can be applied to almost any non-governmental organization (NGO) engaged in advocacy, research, or even basic humanitarian work, stifling civil society and freedom of expression. By labeling NGOs as "foreign agents," the law stigmatizes these organizations, implying they are working against national interests, undermining their credibility, and making it harder for them to operate effectively. The law imposes burdensome reporting and auditing requirements on NGOs, including extensive documentation of their activities and funding sources. This places a heavy administrative burden on these organizations, diverting resources away from their actual work. The law will lead to self-censorship and a decrease in the number and effectiveness of NGOs working on issues of public interest, such as human rights, environmental protection, and healthcare.
The law's broad definition of "political activity" could be applied to independent media outlets that engage in investigative journalism or report on politically sensitive issues. By labeling these media outlets as "foreign agents," the law could undermine their credibility and subject them to increased scrutiny and harassment. The stigmatization of independent media as "foreign agents" could have a chilling effect on freedom of the press in Georgia, leading to self-censorship and a decrease in critical reporting on government activities and policies. The law's vague and broad language gives authorities significant discretion in determining which organizations are classified as "foreign agents." This could lead to the arbitrary application of the law to target government critics and independent voices, potentially leading to their closure or severe restrictions on their activities. By stifling independent media and civil society organizations, the law will limit the diversity of voices in the public discourse in Georgia, restricting the ability of citizens to access a wide range of information and viewpoints.
Law on Transparency of Foreign Influence AKA The Russian Law VS American FARA
The Georgian foreign agents law and the U.S. Foreign Agents Registration Act (FARA) have similar-sounding names and deal with some aspects of foreign influence, but they differ significantly in scope, purpose, and implementation:
The Georgian version of the law broadly applies to NGOs, media outlets, and individuals engaged in various activities deemed to be political and receiving foreign funding, requiring them to register as "foreign agents." - FARA, on the other hand, applies primarily to agents of foreign principals engaging in political activities within the United States, including lobbying and public relations activities. It does not apply to media organizations or NGOs unless they are acting as agents of a foreign government or political party.
The Georgian law will stifle dissent and civil society, targeting organizations critical of the government by imposing burdensome reporting requirements and stigmatizing them as "foreign agents." - FARA, enacted in 1938, aims to provide transparency regarding foreign influence in the U.S. political process. It requires agents of foreign principals engaged in certain activities to disclose their relationship and activities to the U.S. government and the public.
In the Georgian version, failure to comply with the foreign agents law will result in fines, restrictions on activities, and even criminal prosecution, leading to the closure of organizations and suppression of dissent. - FARA violations in the U.S. can result in civil or criminal penalties, but the law is primarily focused on transparency and disclosure rather than punishment or suppression of political activity.
FARA: Targets individuals and organizations acting as agents of foreign principals in a political or quasi-political capacity, primarily focusing on lobbying and public relations activities. - Georgian Law: Will target NGOs, media outlets, and individuals engaged in various activities deemed to be political and receiving foreign funding, including advocacy, research, and humanitarian work.
FARA: Requires registration statements, supplemental statements, and other documents to be public records, allowing journalists, researchers, and the public to access information about foreign influence efforts in the United States. - Georgian Law: Does not have similar provisions for public access to registration information, which will lead to concerns about transparency and accountability.

submitted by Potential_Scholar650 to Sakartvelo [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 23:23 Brilliant-Lychee-518 Flexafen

What Is Flexafen™?

Flexafen is incredible supplement is specifically designed to provide temporary relief for those occasional aches and pains that can hold us back. With Flexafen, you can experience unrestricted movement and enjoy life to the fullest!
What sets Flexafen apart from other supplements on the market is its unique synergistic blend of nutrients. This powerful combination of ingredients works together to create a truly remarkable effect. Each nutrient in Flexafen is carefully selected for its individual benefits, but when combined, they work in harmony to provide maximum relief and support for your body.

How Does Flexafen Work?

Each capsule of Flexafen contains a combination of active substances. However, the peacemaker protein, a form of collagen linked to joint health, is the most significant active component of Flexafen.

The most prevalent connective protein in the human body is collagen. It helps to support the region around your joints. It provides your skin with organic elasticity and support.
However, as you age, your collagen levels fall, which causes joint pain. Some individuals use collagen supplements as a defence. As a result, the immune system in your body is continually attacking your joints.
Causing tissue damage to the bones, surrounding organs, and all of your cartilage. As long as these assaults continue, you will be in continual discomfort and, very frequently, in excruciating pain.
Thus, the six essential nutrients in this formula encourage prompt relief from various aches and pains. It was created to quickly ease pain, as well as to lessen stiffness and inflammation.
The unusual ingredients in this remedy help you restore control of your body without producing any unfavorable side effects.
This supplements contribution to joint flexibility improvement makes possible more fluid and unrestricted mobility. Minimizing wear and tear problems keeps your body overall functioning at a healthier rate.
This supplements main goal is to prevent Leaky Joint Syndrome and to improve motion. It preserves the collagen strands that make up the cartilage tissue in your body.
Your body instantly absorbs the nutrients in this supplement, which strengthens your immune system and helps control the production of free radicals. You can stop your body from deteriorating its joints in just 7 seconds by taking Flexafen daily.

Flexafen Active Ingredients

Flexafen contains the highest-quality, REAL research-backed ingredients, from some of the most trustworthy suppliers on the planet.

Inside each capsule of Flexafen, you will find:

Collavant n2 Undenatured Type II Collagen: Collavant n2, which was previously called b-2Cool, is a type 2 collagen that is sourced from chicken sternum. It is undenatured, which means that it is a protein that hasnt gone through structural deformation. It comes from the cartilage of the chicken, and it hasnt been overly processed. However, it helps consumers to strengthen their own cartilage, which offers support and flexibility in the joints. Since collagen and cartilage both diminish with constant movement and exposure to toxins, restoring it is an important step to improving pain.
Boswellia Serrata Extract: A patented synergistic blend of proprietary extracts that come from the sacred Boswellia plant, AprÃ¨sFlex has been shown in THREE separate, double-blind, placebo-controlled clinical studies. To reduce pain, stiffness, and inflammation and provide life-altering results in as quickly as 5 days.
MSM: The most potent ingredient that consumers will get from the Flexafen formula is MSM, or Methylsulfonylmethane. MSM is used for a multitude of concerns, but it is especially helpful for anyone with arthritis, joint pain, or post-exercise muscle soreness. The main reason that it has such a positive effect is because of the organic sulfur that it uses. This ingredient is crucial for the building of healthy bones and joints, and it even supports the immune system with its increased production of immunoglobulins. These effects can lead to relief from allergies for some consumers.
Sodium Hyaluronate: Sodium Hyaluronate is one of the most common ingredients to find in anti-aging remedies because of the profound moisture support that it provides. When the body loses its ability to effectively maintain collagen in the joints, it is almost certain that it is also seen in the skin at the same time. Collagen makes it possible for the skin to hold onto moisture as well, so introducing an ingredient that can restore what it has lost instantly improves the youthful appearance of users.
White Willow Bark Extract 4:1: The white willow is a type of European willow that is also found in many parts of Asia. The name comes from the underside of the leaves, which are a stark white contrast to the vibrant green topside. In Flexafen, consumers get the support of an extract that is sourced from the bark, which contains salicin.
Boron: Boron is the last ingredient of this compilation, but it is quite important to healing the joints. This chemical is only needed in small amounts, helping users to reduce their risk of joint pain and bone injuries. However, when the body doesnt get enough of it, the growth and regeneration of bone tissue can be detrimentally impacted.

Benefits of Flexafen Supplement

According to the manufacturer, taking Flexafen on a regular basis will help you achieve the following health benefits:-

General leak prevention: Flexafen treats bone problems and increases collagen production to help prevent joint leaks. One of the most common issues that the elderly face is leaky joints, which cause friction between bones and create clicking noises during movement. It happens when the cartilage is deformed for some reason or when the bone has less synovial fluid. A variety of diseases and medical conditions can cause synovial fluid loss. Inflammation caused by a chronic bacterial infection can deplete synovial fluid. It protects the body from viral or bacterial infections.
Improve immune cells: The formula contains a powerful soothing protein that aids in the maintenance of a healthy and disease-free body. An autoimmune disease is a type of medical condition that affects the body. When this happens, the bone cells in the joint become targeted and destroyed by the body's own cells. Immune cells and defence mechanisms must protect the body from any foreign invaders or infections. In this case, the immune system begins to attack and target the body's cells rather than protecting them, resulting in rapid bone cell loss.
Promote joint health: Flexafen's natural vitamins and minerals aid in the production of synovial fluid, which is necessary for joint mobility and lubrication. Synovial fluid, in addition to maintaining a healthy environment, protects joints from infection. The joint becomes painful and uncomfortable as a result of the irritation and friction caused by the loss of synovial fluid. When two bones come together during movement, the synovial fluid between them maintains energy and protects against friction. Thus, this supplement keeps enough fluid between the bones to keep them from rubbing against each other as they move.
Control inflammation: This blend contains potent antioxidants and anti-inflammatory properties, both of which are necessary for successfully controlling the body's inflammatory response. As a result, it aids in the reduction of discomfort and pain that is frequently caused by inflammation caused by movement. Furthermore, this wonderful treatment significantly reduces stiffness and edoema, effectively solving problems associated with limited flexibility.
Reduce stiffness and joint pain: Numerous clinical studies have shown that Flexafen ingredients such as glucosamine, chondroitin, turmeric, and Boswellia are effective at reducing pain and stiffness. In a meta-analysis of randomised controlled trials, for example, glucosamine sulphate reduced pain and stiffness by 28% and 21%, respectively, when compared to placebo (23). Similar reductions in other important components were observed.
Improves joint mobility and performance: Flexafen also aims to improve range of motion and flexibility while reducing pain. Lubricants such as glucosamine and chondroitin aid in the movement of joints. This benefit is supported by clinical evidence. After three years of research, researchers discovered that taking 1500 mg of glucosamine sulphate per day improved joint function and walking distance significantly.

submitted by Brilliant-Lychee-518 to u/Brilliant-Lychee-518 [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 23:21 GamerSky13 My FNAF Timeline - Important Points & Credits (V1)

submitted by GamerSky13 to GameTheorists [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 23:13 AuraKun Slime Girl's Gentle Relaxation and Cleansing ASMR [F4A] [Slime Girl] [Human Listener]

I know I just posted a few hours ago. But well a friend asked me to write another script so well here you go. I think I did a better job than last time. This can be monetized.
[Scene: A tranquil, dimly lit room filled with the soft glow of bioluminescent plants. The ambiance is calm, with the distant sound of a babbling brook and occasional bird calls.]
[The sound of gentle, squishy footsteps is heard as the Slime Girl approaches.]
Slime Girl (softly, with a slightly bubbly texture in her voice): Hello there, human friend. Welcome to my little sanctuary. Today, I'm going to help you relax and cleanse your mind and body. Just sit back and let my soothing touch guide you to tranquility.
[The sound of a soft, wet plop as the Slime Girl settles beside the listener.]
Slime Girl (softly): Let's start with a gentle cleansing mist to freshen your skin. I’ve prepared a special blend just for you.
[Soft, rhythmic spraying sounds as the mist is applied.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the cool mist on your skin, washing away the stress and impurities. Breathe in deeply and let the calming aroma envelop you.
[The misting sound continues, accompanied by a gentle, bubbly texture.]
Slime Girl (softly): Now, I'll use my special slime tendrils to gently massage your temples and forehead, releasing any tension.
[The sound of gentle, squishy movements as the slime tendrils massage the listener's temples.]
Slime Girl (softly): Imagine the tension melting away as my tendrils move in slow, circular motions. Feel the stress dissolving, replaced by a sense of calm and peace.
[The gentle, squishy massage continues.]
Slime Girl (softly): Let’s move down to your shoulders now. I'll wrap my tendrils around them and give you a soothing, gentle squeeze.
[The sound of soft, squishy wrapping and gentle squeezing.]
Slime Girl (softly): There we go, feel the gentle pressure releasing the knots and stress. Let yourself sink deeper into relaxation.
[The squeezing continues rhythmically.]
Slime Girl (softly): Now, I'll cleanse your hands with a special slime-infused balm. It's nourishing and will leave your skin feeling soft and rejuvenated.
[The sound of soft, squelchy movements as the balm is applied.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the cool balm spreading over your hands, seeping into your skin, moisturizing and revitalizing it. Just relax and let the balm do its magic.
[The squelchy movements continue as the balm is gently massaged in.]
Slime Girl (softly): Let’s take a moment to focus on your breathing. Inhale deeply through your nose, and exhale slowly through your mouth.
[Soft, rhythmic breathing sounds.]
Slime Girl (softly): That's it. Just breathe in relaxation, and breathe out any remaining stress.
[The breathing continues for a few moments.]
Slime Girl (softly): Now, I’m going to work on your arms. My tendrils will gently wrap around them, providing a soothing massage to release any tension you might be holding there.
[The sound of gentle wrapping and soft, rhythmic squishing.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the gentle pressure, like a warm, comforting hug. Let all the tension melt away, leaving only peace and relaxation behind.
[The sound of gentle squishing continues.]
Slime Girl (softly): Your arms are feeling much better now. Let’s move on to your back. I’ll use my tendrils to give you a soothing back massage.
[The sound of gentle, rhythmic squishing as the tendrils move along the listener’s back.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the knots and stress dissolve under the gentle pressure of my tendrils. Each movement is designed to relax and rejuvenate you.
[The back massage continues for a few moments, with rhythmic squishing sounds.]
Slime Girl (softly): Now, I’ll place a warm, soothing slime pack on your back. It will help to further relax your muscles and provide deep comfort.
[The sound of a soft, warm slime pack being applied.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the warmth spreading through your back, soothing every muscle. Just relax and let it work its magic.
[The soft, warm slime pack continues to provide comfort.]
Slime Girl (softly): While the slime pack works its wonders, let’s move on to your legs. I’ll gently wrap my tendrils around them, giving you a calming massage.
[The sound of gentle wrapping and soft, rhythmic squishing.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the soothing pressure, releasing any tension from your legs. Let yourself sink deeper into relaxation.
[The leg massage continues rhythmically.]
Slime Girl (softly): Now, let’s give your feet some special attention. I’ll use a nourishing slime scrub to cleanse and rejuvenate them.
[The sound of a soft, squelchy scrub being applied to the feet.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the cool, refreshing scrub as it cleanses and revitalizes your feet. Each gentle movement is designed to bring you comfort and relaxation.
[The gentle, squelchy scrub continues.]
Slime Girl (softly): Your feet feel wonderful now. Let’s move on to your face. I’ll apply a gentle, slime-based mask that will cleanse and refresh your skin.
[The sound of a soft, gooey substance being applied to the face.]
Slime Girl (softly): Feel the cool, soothing mask on your skin. It’s drawing out impurities and nourishing your skin deeply.
[The gooey application continues.]
Slime Girl (softly): While the mask works its magic, let's take another moment to breathe together. Inhale deeply through your nose, and exhale slowly through your mouth.
[Soft, rhythmic breathing sounds.]
Slime Girl (softly): That's it. Just breathe in relaxation, and breathe out any remaining stress.
[The breathing continues for a few moments.]
Slime Girl (softly): Now, I'll gently remove the mask, revealing your refreshed and rejuvenated skin.
[The sound of the mask being softly peeled away.]
Slime Girl (softly): Your skin looks radiant and feels so soft now. Just perfect.
[The sound of gentle bubbling as the Slime Girl moves slightly.]
Slime Girl (softly): We’ve reached the end of our session. Thank you for allowing me to help you relax and cleanse. Remember, you can always return to my sanctuary whenever you need tranquility and care.
[Soft, bubbly footsteps fade away as the scene transitions to the sound of the babbling brook and bird calls.]
Slime Girl (softly, from a distance): Until next time, dear human friend. May you find peace and serenity wherever you go.
[Fade out to soft background sounds, emphasizing the tranquility of the scene.]

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2024.05.15 22:42 No-Face-Collects-687 There is this 『Tatari』in me

Stand name: Tatari (by Joel Corelitz)
Stand user: Mary
Strenght: B
Speed: C
Range: E
Durability: B
Precission: D
Potential: C

Appearance:

(The picture is created from the stand ability of a friend of Mary, she doesn't actually wear such clothes)
Unlike other stands Tatari doesn't directly posses a physical form and instead transform the users body to look like a humanoid goat hybrid that even has traits unnatural for humans and goats alike. After transformation Mary's body will be covered in grey fur and gain increased muscle mass, bone strength and black hoves for feet, the most noticable features are her long ears and zickzacked yellow horns on her head.
Tatari acts like a different independent person inside Mary that can communicate throught specific methods with her like letters or messages left behind. Tatari is quite like Mary and posseses similar characteristics and traits as Mary like being naturaly curious and thicc headed, this is likely because of how it was created.

Origin:

Mary was originally two persons which were Airy Baron and Mathew Baron who were siblings, Mathew possesed a goat looking stand (therefor its appearance) with the ability to make temporary holes in objects and Airy with a humanoid stand with the ability to control plants through a virus in its blood. During an incident Mathew was fataly wounded and as a last resort Airy located an Rokakaka Fruit which fused the two into Mary with her Tatari.

Abilities:

The first ability Tatari has is to allow Mary to transform her body into Tatari or just partially transform, this increases Mary's overall strenght and durability being able to survive a car crash relatively unharmed, should Mary also choose to only partially transform her mind will merge with Tatari's with the more dominant depending on how much of Mary's body is transformed. This transformation reverts to normal if Mary or Tatari exhaust themselves to much which will cause too much strain on Mary's body if overused.
The second ability Tatari has gained through the fusion of Mathew and Airy are tears which she can shot on command and contain a virus that make the tears of Tatari burn through anything like acid and form corrosive clouds near them, Tatari can also cover herself in these tears without any issue to protect herself or launch them like a squirtgun through her eyes.
If Mary is dying or is already dead for a few moments Tatari can take over for a whole day as a last resort of some sorts after which Tatari also dies and perishes.

Weaknesses:

Even though Tatari is a stand it's still has a body physical in nature being unable to directly interact with other stands
Overusing the tears may dehydrate the body
Due to Tatari's own personality she might not listen to Mary and follow her own desires and fight in her own style (Tatari is kinda a dork)

submitted by No-Face-Collects-687 to fanStands [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 22:30 Ben_Elohim_2020 The Nature of Family [Chapter 17]

Credit to Blue for the wonderful cover art of Trilvri
Thank you to:
u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the Nature of Predators universe.
u/EdibleGojid, author of Dark Cuts, for proofreading.
EmClear, aspiring author, for proofreading
You, the reader, for your support. I love reading your comments.
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Memory transcription subject: Sawvek, Junior Extermination Officer
Date [standardised human time]: October 5th, 2136
Hard foam presses uncomfortably up against delicate pressure points situated across the length of my entire body, building up to an unbearable ache that makes me shift and turn against the thin mattress pad. I yank at the rough old blanket I’d taken out of storage and clutch it even tighter around my body, trying to keep out the chill. The best racks, the ones near the heating vents, had already been claimed long before I’d decided to move into the Guild House’s Barracks and it doesn’t seem likely that the current occupants will be giving up their spots any time soon.
My mind is still racing from the events of last paw, replaying the scene over and over again in my dreams and in my head. The way my brother had looked at me… That look on his face when he’d seen the real me…
My paw gives a sympathetic throb in memory, still aching from where it had met the wall, but at least I had been able to wrap it up a bit and stop the bleeding. I feel like I should take it as a small miracle that it isn't broken. More medical bills are the last thing I need right now.
I turn about in the bunk once more, rolling around in vain to try and find a comfortable position that doesn’t seem to exist. Through a conscious act of will I try to empty my mind and sleep, but the very act of trying not to think about things only brings them bubbling back up to the surface of my thoughts. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, a damnable drumming sound brought about by the exertion of my own restless tossing and turning. Out in the hallway I can hear the muffled shuffling of feet and murmurs of conversation. The Guild Hall never sleeps, and it seems that neither would I this paw.
Electing to abandon the attempt as hopeless, I cut my rest claw short and get up, venturing out into the hallway. If I can’t sleep anyway then I might as well start my waking claw early, maybe get in a little exercise. It’s not so bad when it’s self-directed, almost fun in a way. If our family had the money to support it then maybe I could have been an athlete of some variety growing up. I had always possessed something of a natural physicality.
“Stop wasting time with worthless questions about what could have been, Killer.” The voice interjects, early and active today by the sound of it. “You’ll never amount to anything more than a wild predator kept on a leash.”
There’s nothing to do but sigh and carry on. It was right after all. This is it. This is my life now.
Making my way down the hallway towards the gym I find myself walking past a row of private offices assigned to some of the more veteran officers on staff. Most are empty at this claw, their occupants either asleep or off doing other work. One room in particular catches my attention though, the one belonging to our newest PRED Team Commander.
The door leading inside is open and ajar, seemingly forgotten in the midst of more pressing business and granting me a look inside. The entire room is a mess, papers and binders strewn about everywhere with official looking documents littering the floor. A map of the city decorates the otherwise unadorned and impersonal space. On its face it hosts a variety of multicoloured pins, all connecting seemingly arbitrary locations as well as photographs of people and places from the records department. The face of the former PRED Team Commander, Vrienna, looks out at me once again with the same cruel eyes that decorate the memorial wall. Beside her photo are another pair of eyes, a pair I recognise, but not one I would have expected to see here.
Trilvri, my brother’s creepy coworker, the one who’d brought him home the night he’d drunk himself into a stupor, stares out at me from the wall. He was younger in this photo, barely of age, if even that, and dressed in a regulation space corps flight suit, but I could still recognise him. Trilvri’s eyes appear somehow more lively than when I had met him in person, though it does nothing to improve his overall disposition, looking, as they are, as if behind them resides only hatred and a feral desire to kill and rend. Come to think of it, he had mentioned he used to be in the corps hadn’t he? ‘Used to’ being the operative word. When I’d asked he hadn’t seemed particularly fond of his time in the service…
Situated as he is next to Vrienna like that, their pitch-black wool and evil-looking eyes bear a striking resemblance. It was the exact same sort of predatory expression that bore into your soul, the kind that made me feel weak and exposed, the same kind that was worn by-
“What do you think you’re doing in my office?” A voice asks from behind, nonplussed, but with a casual depth of power and authority behind it that makes me freeze on the spot.
“Commander Glagrig, Sir!” I turn about on the spot, fixed at attention in the doorway as I stare up at the man himself. “I’m sorry to intrude. I noticed someone had forgotten to close the door so I was just going to secure it.”
“I see.” Glagrig doesn’t seem to believe a word of it, but neither does he seem inclined to press the issue. “At ease. Tell me, do you recognise the man in the photo there? Have you ever seen him before?”
“No, Commander.” I lie reflexively as I shift to a parade rest, not fully knowing why, but knowing that whatever is going on I want no part of it, for me or my brother. It’s only after the fact that it occurs to me that lying might be worse than telling the truth.
“How… regrettable.” The prestige officer says plainly and I can’t tell whether he believes me or not. “If you do ever catch sight of this individual, then be sure to let me know immediately.”
“Y-Yes, Commander.” I subconsciously swallow with apprehension, hoping that he doesn’t notice. I want nothing more than to run away as quickly as I can, but I haven’t been dismissed yet.
“Junior Officer Sawvek, was it?” Glagrig carries on, looking me up and down, dissecting me with his eyes. “You have quite the interesting record on file and Officer Intalran is quite adamant about your potential. Your simulator results speak for themselves, even if they are just simulations.”
“Thank you, Commander.” I can feel myself growing dizzy as I answer with uncertainty.
“Don’t thank me,” the all-consuming void in front of me replies with no hint of warmth, “just remember that your performance is under evaluation. It’s in my interests to keep note of promising young aspirants who might someday join my team, and I would hate to see you squander your talents.”
“I-I understand, Commander.” I flick my tail in agreement, straining not to look away towards the floor.
“Dismissed.” Glagrig brushes past me as he enters his office, moving to shut the door behind himself.
“Um, Commander?” I ask just before the door shuts, feeling a beckoning call of curiosity that even the predatory prestige exterminator couldn’t crush. “If you don’t mind me asking… Why do you have all that stuff up on the wall there?”
The door opens again, just a crack, and I can feel my superiors' weighty presence bearing down on me, almost suffocating in its intensity. “It’s simply a personal matter. I have reason to believe that the prior investigation regarding the kelach incident was conducted according to… insufficient standards. The predator responsible was never found and I intend to remedy that deficiency.”
“How hard could it be to find a kelach?” I tilt my ears in confusion. “They're huge!”
“Despite initial reports,” he answers with an ominous, cold tone that sends a chill up my spine, “it may be possible that we're dealing with something far more dangerous than just a kelach.”
“T-Thank you, Commander.” I flick my tail in appreciation and the door closes.
I breathe a sigh of relief as the malevolent aura recedes. That was too close.
“And you’re a complete moron going back to ask him more questions afterwards, Killer.” The voice rises with amusement. “What? Do you want him to figure you out and turn you to cinders? Only a matter of time, Killer.”
“Ugh, shut up.” I mutter under my breath, quickly turning back around to make sure Commander Glagrig didn’t hear me, but when no reprisal comes I quickly depart. If I’m gonna be stupid I should at least try not to do so right in front of his office.
As the imminent threat of our in-house prestige exterminator dwindles so too does the energy driven by the adrenaline of the encounter. It figures that the moment I roll out of bed I want to take a nap again, but I know the moment I lie back down I’ll be back to full wakefulness in an instant. That’s just how that sort of thing works. With that in mind there’s really only one solution, a big, steaming hot cup of tea.
Making my way towards the tea machine I spot Jonsco, the feisty little primitive that mans our dispatch centre, smacking the top of the dispenser with a clenched paw while holding a mug underneath it.
“Is the tea machine fixed?” I ask as I pull out a mug from the cabinet myself.
Jonsco sighs heavily and shoots me a combative glare. “For the last time it’s not my brahking job to fix this damn tea machine! You got a problem with that then you can go pester someone else about it!”
I shrink back under the harsh rebuke. Jonsco may be small, but there was as much rage and fury condensed into that little package as anyone else in this department. Maybe more.
“I… I didn’t mean to imply…I just wanted to know if it was working again or not… Sorry.” I sputter out, feeling properly admonished as I look away towards the ground.
Jonsco looks at me quizzically, his hard glare softening somewhat as he seems to truly see me for the first time before returning to his usual scowl.
“Right…Whatever you say…” With one final smack the machine coughs and chokes, sputtering to life with a struggle, and a small trickle of freshly brewed tea begins to fill Jonsco’s cup. “The machine is on the fritz again as usual, but if you hit it just right, do a little percussive maintenance, then you can get it started again.”
“Thanks, Jonsco.” I lean back against the wall and watch as the mug slowly fills, impressed by the primitives know-how. “That's actually pretty smart of you.”
“For a ‘primitive’ right?” The words are barbed and spiteful, but lack his typical enthusiasm, more of a simple statement of fact than a real question. I couldn't exactly deny it, those had been my thoughts, and so the silence drags on awkwardly, marked only by the splash of tea falling into the steadily rising pool.
“What are you doing here at this claw anyway?” I eventually ask, dodging the question entirely. “We’ve still got at least another half-claw until our crew's shift is supposed to start.”
“I could ask you the same thing, you know?” The angry little dispatch operator retorts. “I'm here early working an overtime shift so I can afford to put food on my family's table. It's expensive feeding that many mouths. What's your excuse?”
“I had a fight with my brother…” I rub the back of my neck as I turn away abashedly, “moved out of the apartment and into the barracks full time… couldn't sleep…”
“Well then you should hurry up and work on patching things up with him.” Jonsco looks at me with an uncharacteristic hint of sympathy in his eyes. “Your family are the only ones who might actually care. This Gods-damned place is a slyther’s nest and no one here gives a speh about you or your problems. If you want my advice, you should do your best to spend as little time in this cesspool as possible.”
With his cup now full, Jobsco steps back from the machine and begins walking out towards the main hall.
“Thanks, Jonsco.” My words stop him in his tracks as he walks away from me. “I appreciate it.”
“... You're welcome.” He says after a short pause, glancing back to look at me one more time before leaving. “See you around, Sawvek.”
Taking advantage of the tea machine while it’s still mostly working, I fill up my own cup and drink deeply of the warm, fragrant beverage. The taste is bitter and unpleasant, just about the quality I would expect of this Guild Hall, but even at the first taste it’s evident that it’s been loaded with an extra strength dose of caffeine. I down the drink quickly and rinse out the cup before continuing on my journey towards the training hall. Fatigue begins to fall away as I walk, bit by bit as the drug makes its way into my bloodstream, blocking off sleep receptors and energising me. I know I’ll probably pay for it later, no amount of caffeine can actually replace sleep, but for now it feels good and I can see how some people can get addicted to the stuff.
A loud, metallic clanging emanates from the gym as I approach, something unexpected for this time of paw. No one's reserved space in the gym for this claw and not many people are industrious enough to sweat on their own initiative. Peeking my head inside the door I spy Bikim, the perfect, privileged, ‘holier than thou’ brahkass occupying the otherwise empty weight room. His irritatingly handsome face is taut with strain as he performs a series of weighted squats, his back and leg muscles straining underneath his short-cropped wool, and he pants heavily under the exertion.
I’m half tempted just to leave and go back to bed despite the fact that there’s no way I’d be getting any sleep with the tea running through my system. It’s too early in the paw to deal with Bikim’s speh. Before I can slip away unnoticed though, he spots me. I give a heavy sigh and continue my way inside. There's nothing to be done for it now. Trying to back out now would only make things worse later, a sign of weakness.
“What… Do you want… Predator?” Bikim asks between gulps of air as he reracks his weights, practically hanging off the bar to support himself on shaky legs.
“Good paw to you too, Bikim.” I say, forcing civility into my tone. “I’m here to use the equipment. Same as you. I'm allowed.”
“Whatever…” He eyes me with suspicion. “Just keep your distance… I don't want to catch any of your taint.”
“Believe me,” I flick my tail out in irritation, “I intend to.”
Looking around the room for available spots, I march my way over towards a cable machine on the opposite side of the room. Not nearly as far from Bikim as I would like, but the farthest I can get without leaving the weight area entirely. Bikim watches me all the while as I seat myself down and begin adjusting the machine. Eventually he grows tired of watching me fumble around with the machine and returns to his own exercises with a displeased flick of the tail, quite obviously judging me for my lack of experience with the equipment.
A tense sort of quiet settles over the room as we each go about our business, trying our best to ignore one another. Bikim slowly winds his way around the room, cycling from station to station to exercise all the different parts of his body in sequence before repeating it all again. He seems to bypass my corner of the room, glancing over at me with each repetition of his pattern. For myself, I stay put where I am, taking advantage of the varied exercises offered by the versatile machine to experiment with different muscle groups. Occasionally I slip up, dropping the weights with a loud clang that always draws Bikim’s ire. Every time he seems just a bit more disgruntled, a bit less patient. Eventually, the constant disruption reaches a tipping point and the pompous, self-entitled jerk walks over to confront me.
“Do you always do this?” He asks rhetorically. “If you keep slamming the weights like that you're gonna break it. Your form is speh so either fix it or lower the weight so you don't have to keep compensating. Better yet, just leave. You’ve been monopolising the cable machine for almost half a claw now. I don't know why you're even here in the first place.”
“Oh, look at Mr. Know-it-all thinking he can just go around telling us what to do, eh Killer?” The voice rises to the challenge. “Where does a guy like that who's been handed everything his whole life think he can get off with telling us how we should be doing anything?”
“Brahk off Bikim!” I don't even try to reign in the predator inside, feeling justified in letting it roam free for once. “I didn't ask for your advice and you don't get to kick me out of the weight room just because you can't wait your turn! I'm here because I don't have anywhere else to go! Ever since Intalran dragged me into this stupid Guild this brahking job has taken over my entire life! I don't even have a home to go back to anymore!”
Bikim's body tenses at my tirade and his tail flicks out aggressively like a whip.
“That's your own damn fault, predator!” He shouts back, eager for the excuse to vent his own frustrations. “Maybe if you weren't just some blood-starved beast out roaming the streets then you wouldn't be here right now! I’ve read your file! You got a history of herdless behaviour and physical altercations! Someone should have institutionalised you a long time ago, but someone took pity on you and let you slip through the cracks because of your poor dying mommy! They should have known it would come back to bite them! A normal, functional member of the herd wouldn't even think to pick a flamer up off the ground and burn another person to death with it! But you? You did it instinctively! You revelled in it!”
“You think that was easy for me!” I get up and walk towards him as I yell incredulously. “You think I asked for that to happen! You think it was fun for me to get choked out and almost eaten! That thing I burned wasn't even a person anymore! It was a predator in the middle of a feeding frenzy! So yeah, I did what I did, and you know what? It's a good thing I did! If I wasn't a freak of nature then that thing would have kept on going and kept on killing! Last I checked, preventing that sorta thing was supposed to be your job, but I had to be the one to step up! Now I have to live with the consequences of my actions every paw, knowing that I’m a Protector-damned killer that doesn't belong anywhere! Maybe you, in your infinite wisdom, would've known the perfect thing to do in that situation, but I’m not you! I’ve had to work and struggle for every little thing I have! Not just had it handed to me on a silver platter!”
“Oh, so you got me all figured out do you?” Sarcasm drips from Bikim's mouth as he looks down on me. “You don't know me. You don't know my life or what I’ve been through, how hard I’ve worked to get where I am. You just see the end product from cycles of effort and assume that it's always been that way, that it's always been that easy. It hasn't.”
“Yes, I’m sure you had it so hard growing up Bikim.” Saying it aloud almost makes me laugh. “You’re such a child of privilege that it drips off of you with every move you make and every word you say. I hate people like you, thinking that you're better than everyone else just because you were lucky enough to be born into wealth and status. Try living like the other side for a change, scrounging for every credit just so you can afford to eat, and then try to tell me how hard you had it with a full belly and a warm home!”
“You’re right, predator,” Bikim says contemptuously, “I am a child of privilege. My family has a long and decorated military tradition, my father is a captain for the space corps, a brahking hero, and I’ve reaped the benefits of that. That privilege came at a cost though, and that’s called expectations. Second best is not good enough and I've had to put in ten times the effort as anyone else my whole life just to meet standards! At least you grew up with a father who was there for you and loved you without the condition that everything you do is perfect!”
“All that talk about reading my file and you didn't even get past the first page did you?” I snap at him with a snarl. “ I didn't grow up with a father at all! He's been dead since I was in elementary school! Killed in action! I barely even remember him anymore!”
That one seems to give Bikim pause, but I’m not done yet.
“If you and your whole family are such a bunch of brahking heroes then how come you're here, working as a common garrison exterminator in a run-down backwater city like this?” I taunt. “Shouldn't you be out gallantly fighting the Arxur with one of the fleets or on a colony pacification force rather than making my life here harder than it already is?”
“That's the price for failing to meet expectations,” Bikim quiets down, drawing away from the world and into himself, “the price for knocking up a beautiful, wonderful girl right after graduation and refusing to get rid of it afterwards. You get cut off. You lose that privilege, and you do whatever you have to in order to provide and try to be a good role model for your son.”
Now that one threw me for a loop. In the short time I’ve known Bikim I’ve had a lot of thoughts about him, few of them good, but never would I have expected him to be the type to take responsibility… For anything. Still, there is one thing about his story that doesn't line up…
“Oh really?” I take a step back as I watch for his reaction closely. “I seem to recall Jonsco mentioned just the other day that your wife had left you for a Human.”
“Don't you bring that brahking primitive into this!” Bikim's anger flares in an instant before returning to a subtle simmer of regret. “We’ve just been having a… a rough patch in our relationship. I’m not giving up on us. I’ll win her back. She's just… confused and being taken advantage of! It's all that damn predators fault!” Bikim sighs and sits down on a nearby bench. “You're not the only one whose had something taken from them because of this job. You're not the only one without a home to go back to.”
Looking at Bikim now, a sad, pathetic man moping on the bench with nothing better to do on his rest claw than to try to externalise his inner pain… I find it hard to stay angry at him. He's still a narcissistic brahk ass and a complete jerk, but it's hard to truly hate someone when you actually know them. I had made quite a few assumptions about him when we first met, and he certainly hadn't helped my impression of him since, but… perhaps I was wrong to judge him so harshly?
“Nah,” the voice chortles, “he’s a piece of speh that got what he brahking deserves for being an insufferable prick.”
Overhead the intercom crackles to life and I can hear Jonsco's voice reverberating over the airwaves.
“Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment. Repeat. Officers Vaesh and Sawvek please report to the briefing area for assignment.”
“Sounds like it's time for your first field assignment, Kid.” Bikim says, staring up at the intercom. “At least it gets you out of my wool. Try not to brahk it up and make the rest of us look bad.”
“Hmph.” I turn to leave, muttering to myself. “Stupid brahkass.”
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A/N - Hello! Sorry this one took a while. Like I mentioned before I got delayed working on my Ficnapping chapter as well as a crossover One-shot that's still in progress (but hopefully will be done soon). In other news we have new art of Sawvek's life-changing encounter in the Builder's Lane Bloodbath as drawn by Miglove and you can still find that and everything else Nature of Family in the new Master Post linked up above.
If you like the story then please remember to upvote, comment, and use the “!Subscribeme” function to be alerted to all new posts. I post as often as I can but real life has a tendency of getting in the way and my job makes it almost impossible to keep to any kind of schedule. Your engagement and support go a long way towards helping to keep me on track and motivated, so thank you very much for reading and I hope you'll stay tuned for next chapter!

submitted by Ben_Elohim_2020 to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 22:24 ForsakenDrama3417 Relationship with my father

Hi,
The below post is about a 5 min read. I can’t comment about the content but I think it reads well so it hopefully won’t be the worst five minutes of your day.

I am a thirty year old man. I live with my parents but not because I need to. My father is a dementia patient and my mom is the primary caregiver so I stay at home to help her out. I have a good job. It is fully remote and I make decent money. I have had a less than ideal relationship with my father. Growing up he wasn't around much because of his job and when he was home he wasn't very approachable. He has always had terrible anger issues and from a very young age we have been conditioned to walk on eggshells around him. I have an older brother. He is married and lives with his family. We were living with him but as my father's disease progressed it wasn't possible to continue living there for both the disease and his home infrastructure related reasons. We're relatively well off so money thankfully isn't a problem.
I have always had a strained relationship with my father. He was very loving when I was a child but ever since my early adolescence he has never liked me. He loves my brother a lot.My brother had spine related problems as a kid and they had to take him to various hospitals each year and for a few years he had to wear a spinal brace so he had a strained childhood. This really endeared him to my parents. They never pushed him for anything academically or otherwise but he turned out well. He is a good person although he has his problems. As my parents never pushed him for anything they chose me as the child to exercise their high expectations. I did well in school. They had relatively high expectations of me which was fine. The issue was that in the off chance I did not meet those expectations I would be subjected to severe condemnation. And the condemnation was severe. My father, especially since my early adolescence, never talked to me like his son or a child. He always talked to me like I was some hardened criminal. There was never any affection or understanding. If I did well which I often did there were no congratulations. He did not like me having friends for he was scared I'd fall into bad company. He encouraged my brother to have friends as that would help him fit in with his physical issues. My mother wasn't very affectionate either. For her I was the child whose academic performance she could use for clout amongst her peers. She never balanced out my father's attitude towards me. Rather she encouraged it. I told her but she always dismissed it saying it wasn't so. My father was never around much to ever teach me anything but he would get really mad when I made any sort of mistake. He expected me to know everything. There was a time when he could not stand being in the same room as me and would tell me to leave. I thought this was normal until one day my aunt pointed it out. That was the first time I had an inkling that maybe this behavior wasn't normal. Until a year or so before he lost his mind completely to the disease he would taunt me indirectly in front of everyone by saying how much he liked my brother. He didn't do this to say how much he loved my brother but rather how much he hated me. He would casually call me a coward. I really despised my parents growing up. At a young age I would repeatedly cry myself to sleep thinking one day I'll a make a lot of money and return all the money they had spent on my upbringing, which they always made a point of telling me, down to the expense of the hospital for my birth, with interest and tell them that I was no longer their son. I'd change my name and piss off somewhere and never return.
I have never thought of myself as a good person. I have always thought of myself as the scum of the earth. More my parents tried to keep me away from bad company the more I was drawn to it. I lived different lives inside and outside the house. I always hung out with people who were not at my academic level and the delinquents. I had multiple accents. I started drinking and smoking cigarettes and marijuana at a relatively young age. I have always been addicted to porn. Addiction has always been a problem for me. To this day I struggle with it. It has always been the one true constant in my life. About a year and a half ago as my father's health was deteriorating fast and I could not cope with it. I was drinking heavily and got bloated and sick. Alcohol and marijuana were not just doing it for me. At that time a lot of self improvement content was coming on my youtube feed. Having never exercised in my life, I decided that I had to make an effort to change because I was now the man of the house. I needed to take responsibility so I did. I started working out regularly at home and over time I lost all my excess weight and developed a significant amount of muscle. That also helped me kick my alcohol and smoking addiction although I do still drink and smoke but about twice a week when my mind gets triggered. Working out has become my new addiction. It is hard for me to not workout these days. I have to force myself to take a rest day. It replaced my other addictions but it has not become my saving grace. Rather just another source of escape from my mind. Some days I really overdo it. I need the chemicals.
By far the aspect of my life which has suffered the most are relationships. I have never been able to be truly close to anyone be it friends, family or romantic relationships. I have always struggled with relationships but in the last few I have become completely socially isolated. I have zero empathy just like my father but unlike him I have the ability to recognize it in myself. I cannot look at anyone around me as a human including myself. I feel like an animal and the world feels like a jungle. I am affectionate in my romantic relationships but innately I don't feel any sense of love or desire for companionship. Overtime I end up resenting the person. It just feels like more responsibility. Another person I owe something to. Now I completely avoid romantic relationships altogether. I used to feel sad when I thought about these things but now I don't feel anything at all. These days I date women for a month and then ghost them. My social isolation has conversely improved my ability to charm women. I don't feel any sort of attraction to anyone anymore irrespective of how attractive they are. As I don't feel "human" I don't see them as such either. They're just another entity separate from me. I'm very observant and overtime have learnt to spot behavioral patterns especially in women. With experience I know how to initiate physical contact and mostly they're just spell bound. They feel I'm so confident whereas I don't feel anything at all. Just standard procedure. Although I don't like talking to them I continue to do so for some time until suddenly I don't. Then I don't think twice about them. I feel the same way about friendships.
I'm neither optimistic nor pessimistic. I'm just numb to the idea of the future. I am writing this because I need some perspective. Anything from advice to abuse is highly appreciated. I don't intend to go to a therapist because I can never be this vulnerable in front of someone in flesh and blood and I will never take any medication. Thank you for reading. Please drop in some comments.

submitted by ForsakenDrama3417 to therapy [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 22:24 Gagaking1 Questions about Danganronpa Another 2 (after having beaten the game)

I finished Danganronpa Another 2, and I had some questions. I would appreciate if people could help me with any of them, even if not all can be answered. Heavy spoilers.

1) What does Sora’s level 30 skill, “Bird of Wisdom” do? I reached level 30 at the end of the 6^th case so never had a chance to check what it did. (I’m sad there is no chance post 6^th trial to just review your skills and the relationship notes with the other chars).
2) How was Sora able to see the real world when Akane’s body was dead and the game was shut down?
3) How is Sora Akane? They have different eye color, skin color, body shape, face shape, hair color, and Akane’s hair is relatively curly while Sora’s is straight. I would have thought that Sora was a fake avatar for the virtual world… but in the real world Akane’s body looks like an older Sora. I’m confused.
4) When did Sora start being able to use divine luck? It seems like it might have been case 3 with stopping the trial before identifying the correct killer. However, she hadn’t remembered anything about Akane Taira yet, so how did she have divine luck (and why didn’t another Void’s luck do anything first?)
a. Was this just Mikado’s programming to prevent a bad end early, and not actually divine luck yet?
5) How was Sora able to remember some of Akane’s memories, despite being an AI and not an AE? Were they coded into her?
6) This game takes place in a virtual world similar to the 2^nd main game, except later (presumably with more time for tech improvements). How is it possible that the players were able to come back to life in the 2^nd main game, but not in this one? It seems like the same situation as the 2^nd main game, only MORE optimistic. Utsuro’s/Akane’s/Sora’s luck is similar to Izuru’s skill, except the former don’t even need to take direct action. Also, the 2^nd fangame takes place after the 2^nd main game, so there might have been tech improvements in the meantime.
a. My best guess is that Mikado purposefully sabotaged the virtual world to ensure deaths, to increase the odds of Utsuro being reborn?
7) Is Utsuro’s divine luck based on his body, personality, mind, or something else? It seems to be both/either, as Mikado wanted Yuki’s mind to be like Utsuro to get the divine luck, but then said the luck was stored in Akane’s body… but then Sora got the luck because her AI program was… based off of Akane’s personality and memories? I’m still a little unclear how Sora got divine luck from Akane when she wasn’t directly related to her (she was an AI, not an AE). If it's just being similar in personality or body, how do other people not have divine luck by random similarities?
8) I’m also a little confused about the distinction of AI vs. AE in this game. Yes, I understand that the brain structure is different so Sora can’t be loaded into a human brain. However, if her brain is so different from a human’s due to not being an AE, how was she able to use divine luck?
9) Is the reason Teruya’s death wasn’t considered a suicide because he didn’t explicitly say: “I know this is poisoned, I am deliberately eating this poisoned food to kill myself”?
10) Will we ever learn Nikei’s backstory, like we did the other Voids?
11) Did the future foundation and the Kisaragi foundation ever collaborate/meet up? I can’t remember when/if they discussed it in-game.
12) Was there a need for Mikado to reduce Yuki to a head in a jar, or was it just spite/for the eviluz/ to make it harder to have him escape before Mikado’s plan completed?
13) Why didn’t Akane’s divine luck restore her brain, since it was capable of performing other miracles and curing other fatal diseases? Or at least, why didn’t it stop Mikado from doing his plan and killing the other students in the killing game? If it was weaker from her being in a coma, that doesn’t necessarily explain not healing her earlier, or how Mikado and the other void’s divine luck still could be used.
14) If Mikado had Kanade's memories/ a video of her killing her parents, why was her being a killer mentioned as being 'surprising to Mikado'? Was it just Syobai misunderstanding? Did Mikado not look at that video himself until the reveal somehow?
15) Less related to this game specifically, but, if there was a really long sword/weapon, and all but one student was holding onto the handle and pushed it forward to kill the last student at the same time, would they all be the blackened? Wouldn't that be a simpler method than what was done in the 3rd trial?
~Not so much questions, as personal headcanons/thoughts (feel free to contradict me if evidence goes against it though)~
15) I’m guessing that the reason Yuki was able to use Sora’s body after being uploaded is because the muscle degeneration from a long term coma was undone by divine luck.

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2024.05.15 21:47 MUI-Tojo Re:Cord of Ragnarok [Chapter 21] Part 2

Chapter 21.2:【Tales of Fire and Ice】
The Arena
Tsukuyomi gripped his sword firmly in hand. He looked forward at his foe, allowing the audience he knew was watching, the words he knew they were saying, the arena itself, to all simply fade away into the darkness. Right now, to him, the only things shining in the night were he and his foe. Nothing else mattered, not even the past and future. He gave himself a quiet, bitter, yet lighthearted laugh, and shook his head with a slight smile. The scabbard had cracked. And yet, once the shock had worn off, it now seemed so incredibly trivial.
“...What have I been doing? I can’t believe I paralyzed myself for so long. Even after I met Mother, even after that day, I was just making excuses to be a coward. To never truly fight. But they all…wanted me to just do my best, didn’t they? They wanted me to fight just like that woman does. If so…”
He had fallen countless times. Won many victories. But before today, how many of those battles had he really given his everything to? He regretted every single one of them in hindsight. But now, the god of the moon brandished his sword with a determined light in his eyes.
“...Then that’s the only expectation I need to fulfill!”
He looked Zetian right in the eyes as he replied to her. His voice was as unwavering as his blade.
“Indeed. My father taught me so much. So did my mother. They are truly incredible. I’ve been…such a fool for not listening to them until now.”
Wu stood before him in silence. A blank look distorted her face for a second, as a sense of regretful jealousy almost took over, before the strength of her glare and stance returned twice as strong. Her presence was now like that of a ferocious dragon.
“Hah…how very lucky you are. To have someone at your side to raise you up like that. You’ll never understand what it means to fight truly alone.”
“W-W-W-WAIT A SECOND!” The distressed voice of Mammon pierced the ears of the fighters. “You should not be able to return to sanity! It's not possi-” “SHUT UP! No one has the right to decide what I can and can’t do, you hear me!?” The Empress barked out a command for all to hear, a symphony of the rage and frustration she obtained throughout her life.
Luoyang, Henan Province
It was nothing new, really.
Spears and swords surrounded her on all ends. Eyes that threatened to burn right through her soul- hollower than usual, but intending to kill nonetheless. The roaring and desperate sounds of battle raging around her. Once again, a blade was pointed at her rise to the throne, and once again, Zetian would fight with all she had to defend it.
Even against her own men.
The devilish talismans around the soldiers’ necks glowed with an eerie purple light, illuminating the bloody Luoyang streets below them. Zetian had ordered them locked away upon their discovery, but clearly, at least one of her ministers was less than trustworthy. A shame. Pushing all thoughts of future executions to the side, she looked upon her gathered allies turned foes, already braced for lethal combat. Her eyes narrowed as their leader stepped forward: a nobleman clad not in his usual fine robes, but regal battle armor, clearly prepared for this very day. A more ornate talisman that surged with dark power hung from his neck. Li Zhen, the Prefect of Yu, regarded Zetian with the same sneering smirk he had always worn around her.
The brother of the late Gaozong, and a young prodigy of the Li Clan, Zhen had opposed her from the beginning, almost obsessively so. As if being in her presence and seeing her rise was a reality he could simply reject. Even as the other clans and officials of China fell before her, acknowledging what she had become, Zhen and the Li Clan remained stalwart in their defiance. To Zetian, their eyes burned more than anyone else’s- Zhen’s insults, beatings, and even the cold silence he regarded her with were seared into her mind. It was almost preordained in the heavens that he would be her final obstacle.
“My greetings, Empress Dowager! I must offer my humblest apologies! After all, it’s a shame you’d be struck down like this, when you’re so close to the finish line.” Zhen laughed coldly. He drew his sword from his waist and stepped forth, before gesturing to the soldiers with pride as they all followed at his command. “You’ve slain so many of us Li without even batting an eye…but can you do the same to your own royal guard? That one’s been with you for thirty years, I believe, and that one twenty-five. Such loyal soldiers they are!” He laughed mockingly and patted the soldier next to him on the shoulder.
“...Of course I can.”
Zetian’s reply was clear and sharp, lacking the honeyed arrogance she had grown into over the years. Li Zhen raised an eyebrow. The burning in her eyes hadn’t even flickered a bit. He had wanted to snuff it out, but now, even making it waver seemed like a heavenly task.
“Then come try it, Wu Zetian! Show me what made a subhuman like you into an empress!” He laughed and stepped away, behind a wall of Zetian’s most loyal and powerful soldiers. Without warning, they all attacked at once.
She didn’t even hesitate.
In but a single minute, without a hint of mercy or pause, Wu Zetian slaughtered the elite guard she had cultivated with her own two hands. The deaths were swift and brutal. These loyal warriors, perhaps even companions, were now merely the same as the fallen Li soldiers that littered the streets. But perhaps that kind of death was a mercy in itself. The talismans leeched at the very soul to empower their victims, and agonizingly drove both mind and body to death- so Zetian killed them quickly. It was most efficient to end them before they could grow more powerful. Yes, that was why.
“...Well done!” Zhen remarked. The blood shed by Zetian had begun to pool at his feet. Awe was visible on his face, a horrified form of delight, as he slowly began to smile. It was an expression fit for the descent of a god. Zetian paused with an almost incredulous expression.
“It’s a bit too late for that, isn’t it, Li Zhen?”
“On the contrary…this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. Finally, you’ve bloomed into a flower that Gaozong would be proud of!” Zhen’s smile was now jolly, the sneer he had worn for decades all but gone. He spread his arms wide in a grand gesture and laughed. Zetian remained silent, almost daring him to speak further. The Prefect of Yu happily obliged.
“I knew from the very beginning that you had the drive to claw your way to the top. Those pitiful princes, ministers, prefects, and dukes…they languish in their role, blinded by the comfort of their titles. They lack the fire that a ruler needs, the cold blood of those born in hell. Only someone like you, who knows what it means to truly rise, could be worthy of the throne!”
“...And that’s why the Li Clan never gave me my due respect, eh?” Zetian cocked her head back. The ever-present flame in her eyes was almost cold.
Zhen nodded in glee. “But of course! If a woman were to rule at Gaozong’s side, or any of ours, we would accept only the finest. And you, dear Zetian, have become something beyond my wildest dreams.” He approached her as his grin turned manic. “A mind, body, and soul of finest steel…yes! That carnage just now proves it! You are the only one who can be my empress!”
“You expect me to join you?”
“The Li Clan remains mighty, despite your actions against us. We are your only true opposition. If we join hands, my empress, heaven and earth shall be ours to rule! So thank you, truly…for meeting my expectations.” Li Zhen’s eyes softened further now, his smile almost fatherly. Zetian had almost forgotten what such a smile looked like, even if Zhen’s was one with venom behind it. It was a warm venom. One she was nearly tempted to crave.
It was a pity she would have to destroy it too.
Zetian clenched her fists, steeling herself. And then she spoke. “My rise, my rule, what I’ve done then and today…not a single moment of it was for you, or anyone else. This power is mine and mine alone. For all your talk about the throne, Li Zhen…you’ve forgotten the most important thing of all.”
“Oh?”
“That there can only be one ruler.” She lunged directly at Zhen, just as coldly as she had done her own soldiers. As if his words had truly meant nothing to her.
Li Zhen had always been a prodigy. A genius of politics and war, of swordplay, and even of martial arts, which he had turned to out of sheer boredom. For his entire life, he had wanted nothing more than an equal. He prayed fervently that some twist of fate would place Zetian by his side. Not Gaozong’s or anyone else’s. A one-on-one fight with her was, truly, the culmination of that dream. But as Zetian parried, dodged, and blocked every single one of his blows, as if he were but a child with a stick, striking back over and over with force that shattered his armor and bones, the prodigy of the Li Clan realized that he had made a fatal mistake.
Wu Zetian was not his equal, and hadn’t been for a long time now. Perhaps she never even was. She had not simply met expectations- she had unquestionably surpassed them all.
BLACK TORTOISE’S SHELL
His strongest all-or-nothing strike didn’t move her an inch.
VERMILLION BIRD’S FLIGHT
Before he could even begin to follow up with a swing to her throat, she disappeared from sight. He turned around far too late. She was lunging for him.
DRAGON’S MIGHT
Zhen opened his mouth to choke out what he knew would be his final words. But faced with the wildfire burning in Zetian’s visage, with the bestial, almost hungering way she was now moving, what could he even say? It was only now that Li Zhen began to fathom what he had created.
WHITE TIGER’S CLAW
“Have we given rise to an empress, or a demon-”
Zetian’s whole body moved in a brutal downwards arc. The claw of a monster swept right through Zhen’s body, devastating it, tearing muscle and shattering bone, the armored, empowered prodigy little more than the weakest of peasants before its might. His life ended before he could even process his last, horrified thoughts.
Zhen’s corpse dropped to the floor in two. And next to it, with no one to see them in this secluded corner of Luoyang, as the battle began to die down, Wu Zetian simply looked upon her nemesis’ corpse, overcome by a hollow catharsis, the flame in her eyes now burning coldly. That last warm smile was something she had fought for decades to see, even if she herself had forgotten why. Yet it was unable to move her. Could she even move her own heart, at this point?
She had now slain Li Zhen with her own two hands. Her armies had already crushed many of the Li, and would end the rest of them soon. Zetian had conquered all possible opposition. But even as she stood atop a mountain of corpses and destroyed expectations, all those scornful eyes now looking towards her with reverence…she still felt that same empty, terrified hunger once the fearless rush of victory had passed. The hunger of a pitiful peasant girl destined for an unnamed and shallow grave. Even the throne wasn’t enough, nowhere near enough. She still wasn’t enough. She still had to prove herself more. Li Zhen and countless more had died, but their ghosts would gaze upon her forever.
The peak of the mountain was still a lonely place.
But even if it was lonely, it was safe for now. Neither blades or words, pointed towards her at all times, could even begin to reach her from where she stood. That was why Zetian had to keep climbing higher. All doubt and fear had to be banished. If she showed her constant hesitation, if any part of her was weak, then she’d fall in an instant, all the way back to the hell that lay below the earth. Back to the girl she used to be, and refused to admit she still was. To stay on the throne of heaven…Wu Zetian had to live as a devil.
Thus, Zetian remained standing. Not a single tear fell, and not a single tremor ran through her body. Whether it led to heaven or hell, she would continue walking the lonely path of an empress, paved with the corpses of friends and foes. She had no choice but to. Without hesitation, she ran to the raging battle ahead, not sparing a single moment of goodbye or prayer for her closest comrades. They had sacrificed themselves for a cold and ruthless empress, a ruler who would make China as strong as herself, and she intended to honor that.
Her country, her world, would never even begin to crumble. She would make sure of it. An empress never faltered, and an empress never relied on others. Even if the warmth- no, the absolute power she sought was impossibly distant, and fleeting in her grasp…she would chase it forever.
Even if she had to chase it all the way to the heavens.
The Arena
Zetian glared back at Tsukuyomi, her composure unshaken, but a burning, primal desire to conquer in her eyes. The moon god’s resolve remained unshaken. If anything, his face only softened with pity. But it seemed as if it was a battle to remain resolute, as if Zetian’s eyes were imposing her dominant will on the heavens themselves- it was as if Tsukuyomi was looking towards the peak of some unfathomable, treacherous mountain, and the dragon that reigned there as its ruler.
“The desperation of having nothing at all is what breeds the greatest hunger for power.” Solomon mused, a cool smile on his face. “And when one with such a craving actually reaches the heights that they seek, nothing in heaven and earth can stop them.”
“Wait, that makes no sense!” Legion interjected. “So she can control Demon Mind because…”
“Indeed. Wu Zetian has always been a human with the ‘greed’ of a demon. Perhaps even beyond one. That is her path as an iron empress, unchallenged by any in China. Only someone like her, one with an ‘ego’ that burns like an infernal flame, could ever harness Mammon to this extent…” His confident smile unwavering, Solomon turned his attention back to the arena.
“...You must have suffered greatl-” Tsukuyomi began.
“You shut up too, you patronizing asshole! As if I would care about the validation of those stuck up bastards, or even oh-so-almighty gods like you.” Tsukuyomi’s attempt at consolation was shut down by the ravings of Wu Zetian. Her words resonated with the moon god, the fiery glare she met him with shaking him to his core. She took a step forward and spread her arms, a grin and snarl simultaneously on her face as she continues.
“From the beginning, my throne has been mine and mine alone. I’ve fought, bled, and killed for no one except me, I clawed my way to the peak with my own two hands! And I’ll crush anything that wants to take that from me- I don’t care if it’s the heavens themselves! For I am…the Empress of China!”
A familiar figure in the audience smirked gleefully. “Wonderful! Show them the dragon’s fire that consumed all of China! Show them everything you are, my Empress!” Li Zhen roared out pridefully, the rest of the Li Clan with him. Their stands were surrounded by many of Zetian’s other fallen foes, watching intently. Li Jingye, Empress Wang, Sun Wanrong- regardless of their feelings, they all stood firm in their support, placing their faith in the one who had unquestionably crushed them all.
It didn’t matter what she had done to them, at least, not here and now. Zetian’s might was the single, immutable truth uniting them, a grand temple that had been built upon all their corpses. And they would uphold that embodiment of their China until the very end. As the Empress returned to her fearsome martial stance, firm as iron yet ready to rage like a flame, Tsukuyomi steeled himself and took a breath.
‘She does not have her demonic form activated…This is my chance! It’s now or never!’ He grasped his damaged haori in his hand and slung it towards Wu. The Empress was surprised with the newfound courage of Tsukuyomi, yet prepared herself all the same. It took only a single swipe of ‘Tiger Claw’ to shred the haori into pieces, but the brief distraction was enough for Tsukuyomi to reach her. His sword flashed through the air towards her leg, forcing the Empress to jump up with a feral glint in her eyes. He looked up, knowing just what to do next- but the brief moment of pause he gave before doing it was more than enough. Zetian lunged forth and swung, landing a palm strike to his ribs, and very nearly taking his head off with a turning kick, still grazing his cheek even as he ducked away. Tsukuyomi stepped back, grimacing but resolute as Zetian rushed at him once more.
“Don’t you dare hesitate like that again, boy!~”
“...You’re right! No more regrets!”
As he swung to intercept her, Zetian batted his blade down to the god’s side and closed in on the opening before Tsukuyomi. However, the young god steeled himself. It was just as he had planned- the creation of a second chance to execute that maneuver. Without hesitation, Tsukuyomi spat the blood pooling in his mouth into the eyes of his monstrous opponent.
“I can… NO! I WILL WIN!” He declared to the heavens, to the tune of a demented snigger from his opponent, before bringing the blade to her neck. A beheading fit for royalty. Yet, the Empress’ demonic eyes flashed open through the blood, and his blade was stopped firmly by her palm. Zetian diverted it to the side with a manic expression.
“What the..? Wait. Her pupils changed?!” Shock and horror palpated in Tsukuyomi’s brain as he realized that the demon mind had once again brought Zetian into her demonic state.
In the stands, Solomon laughed to himself as he observed the battle below. “It would appear that greed is truly the quality of a dragon, and you have achieved the pinnacle of it….well done Wu Zetian~”
“Oh my. So this is the ‘hunger’ that made her such a mighty empress…” Amaterasu mused to herself. Izanagi was now sweating slightly, his arm trembling in rage.
Mammon, meanwhile, was quivering, too shocked to even speak. Just what kind of relentless beast had Solomon bound him to? The demon, who walked through hell itself without a hint of fear, now felt as if he was in the presence of a monster.
Wu positioned herself in the same stance she had performed her White Tiger Assault in, before firing herself precariously towards the panicked God. Tsukuyomi’s eyes widened. He was too slow to dodge. He didn’t have enough momentum to parry. He couldn’t guard, or he’d be crushed under the blow’s pure power. Every option began to fade away in his mind, the Tsukuyomis of every possibility crushed by their foe…
Except the one he had finally found confidence in. The only way to advance was to move forward. Even if it was just this once, for a single strike and the rest of the battle afterwards, he was done hesitating. Here and now, he could go all out. He rushed forward, his blade surging with light.
This was the final stage of the self-mastery he had cultivated. At the end of the path of moonlight, the thousands of victories and twice as many failures forming it…simply stopped existing. The only truth remaining was this moment. To master one’s self meant to put one’s present self, all that they knew they were, into every single swing. And after so many years, Tsukuyomi’s blade and heart had finally become one shining light.
WHITE TIGER’S ASSAULT
PERPETUAL MOON CYCLE: HALF MOON
https://preview.redd.it/cjl9gbqb8n0d1.png?width=1011&format=png&auto=webp&s=d130842aaee35ab3a46277b2ca1988f56e157ee5
Tsukuyomi raised his blade up high, and sent it cascading down like a waterfall of pure surging moonlight, almost meteoric in its descent as radiant power wildly trailed behind it. At the same time, Zetian’s raging, hungering claw of a hand shot upwards in that same bloodthirsty arc of destruction.
“Oh my.” Thoth gasped. “Their power is beginning to approach that of Lucifer himself!”
“This is gonna be bloody.” Crowley cackled, gently rubbing his hands together.
“Yes! Crush that boy, Empress!” Li Zhen yelled. Both his fists were clenched in anticipation.
“...G…GO FOR IT, TSUKUYOMI!” cried out Izanami, raising one fist and nearly standing up from her chair.
It was a clash of pure unwavering will. Hell’s raw tenacity and heaven’s steeled resolve met in the form of a fist and blade, the flesh and light that burned in their hearts trying to consume the other entirely, the blast of their collision a passionate roar towards the sky.
“I won’t lose!” Tsukuyomi declared, tightening his grip and clenching his teeth.
“Eat shit!” Wu snarled, the grin on her face almost hungering.
With one last shout from both sides, as they poured all that blazed in their souls into the clash, it ended in a single, explosive instant. Tsukuyomi was blown away along with his sword, and tumbled across the arena floor, as Zetian was forced backwards in a burst of blinding moonlight, hissing in pain and nearly falling over- but standing her ground nonetheless as she dug one foot into the ground behind her.
Gaozong breathed a sigh of relief from his seat. Qin and the Li clan nearby, meanwhile, let out an invigorated cheer. “What a clash!” said the First Emperor with a grin. “Just a little more, and victory will be hers to seize!”
On the other side of the arena, Izanami yelped a bit, clutching Lucifer’s hand briefly. Tsukuyomi’s siblings looked on with concern, but not fear. Everyone in the room knew Tsukuyomi still wasn’t done. But just how much more did he have left to give?
“Tsukuyomi…damnit…” Metatron muttered, adjusting his glasses anxiously. Michael remained watching, his smile unusually firm as he spoke.
“Worry not, brother. His soul is still far from exhausted. And as his family, it’s our duty to watch until the very end…and to believe in him more than anyone else can!”
“...son of a bitch…” Wu mumbled to herself, observing the deep, frostbitten cut that had torn at her fingers. Small drops of blood seeped down and pooled below her, yet she stood tall and defiant. The blade had shattered upon impact and the claws had crippled Tsukuyomi to his knees…
“At least you died like a warrior, I will give you that mu-”
“I’m…not...done…yet…” The croaky voice of Tsukuyomi beckoned in her ears. Alarm and confusion arose, as Zetian watched the feeble god lift himself up with an empty, half-dead look on his face, yet determination in his eyes. ‘When did he become so persistent? I have crushed him time and time again, destroyed his blade and stolen his pride…From where does he draw strength?!”
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Tsukuyomi looked down and noticed the blood that swam below him. ‘Am I dying? No…I can’t die yet…I don’t want to die…I suppose father, mother, and Michael would want me to live… Right…? I must try that, right father? This forbidden technique…’
The broken blade glowed before him as he exhaled a frigid air. Blood was coughed onto the ground, yet froze upon meeting his mist-like breath. His arm, covered in blood, cracked and began to tremble as it was now coated in shards of ice.
Wu looked towards him carefully, “I don’t like this at all.” Her instincts were raging at her. Primal instincts of the first of mankind suffering an age of ice, the opposite to their glorious fire, that killed all indiscriminately.
“I am sorry that you must experience this, Lady Zetian…It is a horrid power…Forgive me”
As Zeitan assumed a defensive stance, Tsukuyomi brought his blade before him, a fragile look in his posture.
“Tsuku…Yomi…!” Lucifer’s eyes widened, in a way they hadn’t since his earlier match. “Son… You truly… Have grown up…” His quiet voice held a mixture of realization, pride…but also a hint of anxiety, one of the emotions he discarded long ago. Metatron remained silent, sweat pouring down his brow, as Hanuel’s eyes widened next to him.
“He can’t be…!” Hanuel muttered. “Just what is he doing!?”
“Ahhh, Tsu-chan is about to do something splendid~ I wonder~ How will Wu-chan manage?” Dionysus' relaxed voice didn’t exactly match his eyes burning with passion and excitement.
“HA! What the fuck is he gonna do now?” Moros chanted, his eyes enchanted with excitement, his fingers burying into his hands as he awaited Tsukuyomi’s move.
“Hooh boy. I’m beginning to feel what I felt back in the center of the Hurikan again.” Da Vinci thought to himself in the infirmary, still in too much pain to speak.
Izanagi watched with a snarl, taking a deep breath of frustration at what he believed was Tsukuyomi’s incompetence. Amaterasu simply continued to watch unperturbed, an interested twinkle in her eyes. She turned to the sword-wielding god nearby and spoke with her head tilted curiously.
“Oh, Mikazuchi. Isn’t he doing the same thing as you? Or is it another one of his father’s techniques…” Amaterasu’s words were light, almost teasing. The masked god shook her head and crossed her arms as she replied with a sigh.
“Of course not. Every ‘sword’ in the world is different. Whatever he’s about to do…is something that only he can pull off.”
“This is your final test Zetian, will you manage to overcome your final obstacle, prove to everyone who ever doubted you, how wrong they were…Or fall trying” Even the ever-so collected Solomon had his full attention on the fight.
“Oh? No matter…whatever that brat god tries, our empress can overcome it! Isn’t that right?!” Li Zhen shouted. A confident smile was on his face as the cheers of his clan erupted around him, Gaozong watching intently nearby.
“Well gods, angels and men!” Thoth announced triumphantly. “Prepare yourselves, because the climax of the battle starts here!”
“Please, Tsukuyomi…win and come home.” Izanami’s voice was strangely calm, her hands clasped together as if praying. All her anxiety and confidence towards her son seemed to have vanished together, leaving only the nothingness of what was to come.
He twisted his grip on the handle, pointing the tip of the glimmering moonlight at himself. He took a deep breath before plunging it deep inside him, twisting the blade in his guts.
“The fu-!!!” Wu was startled by his suicidal display, before realising the temperature had dropped far below its former warmth. She looked to the ground and only barely avoided the expanding permafrost that encased the castle. Had she not jumped, she would have surely been trapped.
The blood that dropped from his back shot out with the thrust of the sword, yet seemed to freeze instantly. Their chilled form intensified, and became reminiscent of the wings of an angel.
The frozen wings of glimmering ice, the coming of Fimbulvetr…

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2024.05.15 21:41 Think_Wild_CO Lead Poisoned Juvenile Bald Eagle Gets Treatment at Think Wild

Photos available here. Please credit Think Wild Central Oregon.
Lead Poisoned Juvenile Bald Eagle Gets Treatment at Think Wild
Bend, Oregon — Think Wild, Bend wildlife hospital and conservation center, is currently treating a juvenile bald eagle suffering from severe lead toxicity.
Think Wild received the eagle on Sunday, May 12, after a community member saw the bird on the ground in their pasture for a few days. The rescuer noticed the bird could not fly well when approached, so they carefully contained the bird in a crate for transport to Think Wild.
Think Wild admitted the 7.4 lb juvenile bald eagle and performed an intake exam. Upon intake, the eagle tested positive for lead toxicity at 53.8 micrograms per deciliter (ug/dL), over five times what is considered clinical in wild raptors (10 ug/dL). Think Wild staff will treat the bald eagle with injectable chelation therapy over the next few weeks. The chelating agents bind to the lead molecules in the eagle’s blood, allowing it to move through and out of the bird’s body.
So far, the eagle is perching, self-feeding, and resistant to handling, which are all positive signs. There are persistent symptoms of lead toxicity as well - the eagle is lethargic and exhibits wing and head drooping when resting. As the chelating agents remove the lead from the eagle’s system, we hope to see an improvement in these neurologic symptoms.
Raptors found with lead poisoning are said to have “lead intoxication.” They may appear “drunk,” with balance and coordination issues, lethargy and wing droop. Symptoms can also include leg paralysis, muscle wasting, dehydration, and anemia. The vast majority of lead-poisoned eagles don’t survive, and oftentimes those that are found must be humanely euthanized due to irreversible organ, muscle, visual, bone and brain damage.
Lead from ammunition is the primary source of lead toxicity in many species, like bald eagles, due to whole bullets or fragments left behind in live prey, gut piles, and carcasses. It is likely that the eagle recently fed on a carcass or prey animal that contained fragmented lead ammunition. Raptor lead toxicity increases during hunting season as gut piles or unrecovered game contaminated with lead are ingested by eagles, raptors, corvids and many other species, resulting in multiple food chain toxicities. Eagle nests near farms and agricultural areas can also be susceptible to toxic lead accumulation when lead shot is used for pest control, as adults may feed poisoned rodents to their nestlings.
Think Wild has treated over 20 birds of prey, including golden and bald eagles, turkey vultures, and Cooper's hawks, for lead toxicity since they began accepting raptor patients in 2021. Only four of those patients were releasable back to the wild. Director of Wildlife Rehabilitation, Pauline Hice, says “lead poisoning is an unfortunate occurrence that rehabilitators across the US see regularly due to the use of lead ammunition, lead sinkers, and environmental contamination. Luckily, these cases are preventable.”
People can prevent lead poisoning in wildlife by using non-lead ammunition, fishing sinkers and rodent control. If you choose to use lead, bury dressing piles and keep the lead away from any sources of water. If you see an eagle or any bird with symptoms of lead intoxication, please contact Think Wild’s Wildlife Hotline at (541) 241-8680. Do not attempt to capture or offer food and water to injured wildlife without first contacting a licensed professional. Bald eagles are protected in the United States by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act and the Bald and Golden Eagle Act.
About Think Wild
Think Wild is a 501(c)3 non-profit organization located in Bend, Oregon. Our mission is to inspire the High Desert community to care for and protect native wildlife through rescue and rehabilitation, outreach and education, and conservation. We provide veterinary treatment and care at the wildlife hospital, staffed by expert wildlife rehabilitation staff, animal husbandry volunteers, and our staff veterinarian. Wildlife conflicts or injuries can be reported to our Wildlife Hotline at (541) 241-8680, which is monitored seven days a week from 8 AM to 4 PM. Visit us online at thinkwildco.org, or on Instagram or Facebook u/thinkwildco.

submitted by Think_Wild_CO to Bend [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 21:23 Cha_Raz_Fre Wrestle Wrestle Fruit - Fuku Fuku No Mi

Devil Fruit Type: Paramecia Appearance: Red Fruit that is shapen like a boxing glove with black swirls covering all around with two leaves on top of it.
Powers and Abilities: The Wrestle Wrestle Fruit is a paramecia type devil fruit that once consumed grants to consumer the power to win any wrestling match with perfect timing, muscle and durability.
Side effect: under rare occasions, and under too much pressure the consumer will loose control and go into a berserker stance becoming capable of sending out multiple devastating blows within a short span of time that would be impossible for a normal human being.

submitted by Cha_Raz_Fre to DevilFruitIdeas [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 21:07 rephlexi0n Disagreement "I should've just gone to Walmart"

NoSleep link
“Ugh, Emma, can you get the trunk for me?”
The dim winter sun was setting over the parking lot, nearly devoid of shoppers at this late hour, aside from a van in one distant corner that had just started backing out of its spot.
I set my bag down in the passenger seat and rounded the side of my mum’s penicillium-green Camry, met with her impatient and lightly sweating face. I popped the trunk, allowing her to practically collapse into it with the weight of the groceries. Something burst in one of the bags, prompting her to curse under her breath.
“I just don’t get why you won’t stick a quarter in those trolleys over there. You get it back afterwards.”
Mum, still arranging the bags into a position that would stop them toppling over on the drive home, looked at me scornfully.
“The Walmart downtown doesn’t make you pay. None of the stores around here do, so why should I? You know we only come here to Aldi ‘cause it’s cheaper.”
“I just said you get the quarter back afterwards. It’s to make sure people put the trolleys back,” I sighed, knowing there was no swaying her. Instead of shooting back with some flimsy reasoning, mum patted her pockets and swore.
“Oh for goodness sake, I’ve gone and left my wallet at the till again, haven’t I?”
Before I could get a word out, she was gone like a rocket, racing against the store’s closing time. Night’s chill descended, raising gooseflesh, so I slammed the trunk and hopped back into the passenger seat, out of the cold.
I sat there, praying my mum had the haste to get back soon with the keys and start up the heating. There was something else, though. My heart made itself known with a rising, incessant pulse. Was something wrong?
“Not this again,” I groaned, shutting my eyes and following a basic breathing routine to calm my nerves. The anxiety was bad enough, but the anger I felt at the nonsense panic had always been worse for me.
“Just stop it. Lasagna’s waiting for us at home. It’s gonna be so g–”
I opened my eyes.
Had I heard something? No, not heard, felt? I leaned forward to scan the parking lot. Nothing. Then I jumped back in my seat. There it was again. It was subtle, so much so I was surprised I’d even noticed it. A light, but bone-deep vibration was emanating from somewhere. Almost like someone nearby was subtly trying to pull down on a gigantic zipper, one tooth at a time. The comparison should’ve sounded silly, but my heart continued to pound faster and faster until I was sure beyond a doubt that something bad would happen. Something was wrong.
It took me longer than I’d have liked to get out, with the seat belt clamping as I struggled to unbuckle. There was no smell in the air. Did it smell before? I couldn’t remember. No more cars in the lot, only the Camry. No more noise.
Again, that slight vibration in the air. Too low a frequency to determine its source, but enough to sense it was there. I tilted my head, staring up at lumpy clouds that cast shadows on each other. Ah, those clouds. I’ve always loved how they look around sundown. It helped to ease my heart a little.
Until one of the shadows moved.
I’m not stupid, I thought it was just a cloud’s shadow matching its slow drift across the sky - I squinted. The shadow wasn’t being cast on a cloud. It was above, or behind them, which made me realise whatever I was seeing, it wasn’t a shadow.
What happened next is hard to articulate. I’ve never seen anything else like it, before or since. The dark mass above the clouds began to sort of extend, beaming down at an angle, like sun rays but moving at a steady pace, or how water or ink moves up paper by way of capillary action. A black beam. But, it was more than that.
I was so absorbed in the spectacle, it hadn’t fully dawned on me that this thing was getting closer. Closer to me. And as it closed in, there was no mistaking it. While it continued to stretch all the way back above the clouds, the outline of it, the cross-section, was almost human-shaped. Arms, head, body, and legs, but the limbs ended in stunted nubs, like a stick figure.
By the time it stopped a good three or four storeys above, I still hadn’t moved. I couldn’t. I could do nothing but watch in disbelief as lights and layers of colour began to flash inside the human-ish figure, seeming to have parallax, as if whatever lay beyond was a space of its own.
Amazingly, something managed to distract me for a moment. A flash of light in my peripheral. A phone torch.
“Emma? Emma! Are you having a stroke or something?”
I blinked.
“What– no? I mean, I…”
Mum was back, apparently still without her wallet, now scanning the asphalt for any sign of it. Why didn’t I hear her coming back?
She clicked her tongue.
“Then stop standing there like an idiot and help me find it. Come on, it’s getting late.”
I did, in fact, keep standing there, glancing between her and the flashing shadow prism above us. I did a double take. Those glaringly bright, almost offensively coloured layers were speeding up towards the end of the beam, towards me, piling up on themselves to assemble a figure, stepping soundlessly out into thin air.
Mum kept calling for me. I heard her, but couldn’t process her words. Everything else was secondary to the figure above us. It had fully formed, cloaked in a coarse-looking gown, with skin so pale and shadeless it was as if it radiated a faint glow. The sound of rapid footsteps brought me back to myself, and I looked down just in time to see my mum, face painted in a teetering mixture of worry and annoyance. She went to speak but I held up a hand, and pointed to the figure.
Squinting at me, she looked to where I was pointing, and froze. The whole time, I’d secretly been hoping I was just hallucinating, but she saw it too. She saw something, at least, and that was enough to confirm what I’d been dreading.
“...who is that?” she asked. Her voice sounded so small and dry. If I could’ve spoken I’d have asked, “what is that?”
Instead, I watched on in terror as the figure began a slow descent, straight down. The closer it drew, the more of it I could make out. There were these iridescent lines floating across the surface of its skin, moving like sun patterns on the bottom of a swimming pool. Like the silhouette it had emerged from, it had no hands or feet. Just rounded nubs, although those on its arms had the same slight depression in the centre.
“Car… the car. Mum, the car, get in the car, now,” I whispered. No response. I reached out, grabbing her by the arm and shaking her. She was absolutely rigid. One of us had to move, and I imagined we were both hoping the other would do so.
A second figure emerged from the prism, identical to the first, except it was wearing a plain T-shirt and shorts. At the same time, the first one finally touched down on the asphalt and stood, tilting its head up, apparently waiting for the other to arrive.
If I had any lingering doubt that these things weren’t human, it was squashed when I saw their faces - or, lack thereof. I couldn’t see any ears, and where a face should’ve been was only a circular metal grate. Maybe gold, or brass.
The four of us stood there, still and silent. They stared at us, and we stared right back, completely lost in the foreign sight of the beings. A breath, then they turned to each other. I don’t know if I expected them to talk, but they didn’t. Not in any language I know. Faint at first, getting brighter with every pulse, constellations began to flash behind the metal face-grates of each of them. I heard nothing aside from a few damped vibrations, yet somehow, I knew there was a conversation going on.
Very slowly, I took a step back, and reached an arm behind me to feel for the car. All the while, my eyes stayed locked on the beings. I kept reaching, further and further. My fingers brushed nothing but air.
One of them abruptly turned and looked at me, or at mum, I couldn’t tell. My chest tightened. This wasn’t happening. It raised one stunted arm to point at my mum, releasing another cascade of flashing lights behind its grill face. The other crossed its arms and looked over too, like it was waiting for something.
I had to risk it. I pivoted, throwing a glance over my shoulder. The car was twenty, maybe twenty-five feet away. I didn’t remember wandering that far from it. I noticed something else then: the trees, the grass, all of the greenery surrounding the parking lot was… gone. It gave me the impression of a planet that had never evolved life, or where all life was extinct. There was only bare, dark soil enclosing the lot.
Seconds before I went for the car, mum let out a scream. One that I still hear from time to time, in dreams and background noise. I spun around to see the first being, the one wearing a gown, gliding across the ground with an arm outstretched. Mum didn’t have time to move. It came to a dead stop before her, arm still raised, and I saw something emerging from the small depression at the end of its stump - what I now understood was a hole. Whatever came out was darker than the night sky, and I couldn’t place its shape, but it looked like it was made out of a mass of ever-shifting black crystals.
Mum screamed again. It was more of a gasp actually, a gasp that lasted barely a second before a bubble broke free of the shifting appendage and fixed itself over her mouth, silencing her. Another four floated down to her wrists and ankles, binding her in place and stopping her from moving as one more broke off from the being. It looked a little like an arrowhead, or some other sharp, triangular tool, a razor edge cutting through the air and hovering just over her stomach.
I understood the danger then - not for me, but her. Abandoning caution, I leapt forward, yelling,
“Get away from her!”
But I rolled my ankle and went crashing down onto cold, hard asphalt. Dazed, I tried to lift myself, and managed to look up at the beings with blood pouring from my nose and a cut on my cheek. The one in front of my mum barely seemed to notice me, giving me a quick look then getting back to the matter at hand, whatever that was.
Mum squirmed against her restraints, issuing muffled groans through her nose. I forced my limbs to work, but I was held fast. Mounds of that shifting black crystal had smothered my hands, binding them to the ground.
I looked at my mum, helpless, terrified. She met my eyes, blinked away a tear, and squeezed her eyelids shut. At the back, the being wearing a T-shirt made some kind of gesture, like it was impatient, and the robed being nodded, turning back to mum and directing the arrow-shaped object. At the same time, her blouse began to lift up and off her, pulled by an invisible force and exposing her belly. The being hesitated for a second, and I felt a spark of hope, that it might show mercy.
But of course it didn’t.
The dark arrowhead pressed into her skin, slicing through layers like butter and dragging a line downwards, leaving a clean incision. Wasting no time, the being reached inside, fiddled around for a moment, then pulled out the severed end of my mum’s intestine. Blood and shit splattered the ground, trailing away from her as the being floated backwards, keeping hold of the organ until it was stretched to its full length.
I tasted bile.
“STOP! You fucks, you fucking–”
A gush of vomit interrupted me, flooding out onto the ground and mixing in with the intestinal fluids to create a disgusting, speckled pattern which prompted another wave of vomit from me and tears to cloud my vision.
“Please…”
I wiped my sleeve over my eyes so I could see. The being in a T-shirt had a long, pole-shaped protrusion stretching out from the end of its arm, extending to match the length of my mother’s intestines. It studied something for a second, before shrugging, and nodding at the robed being.
In the blink of an eye, the intestines retracted back like a frightened snake and piled back inside mum’s body. I just stared, not able to understand. The sides of the incision pulled into each other and appeared to heal completely in a matter of seconds. As soon as I’d processed this, I felt my restraints slacken then disappear entirely, and I shot to my feet, nearly tripping over again, and grasped onto mum’s arm.
I pulled, under the assumption that she’d been released. She wasn’t. Why weren’t they letting her go?
Freezing up, I cranked my head to look at the beings. More flashing lights. The one in a T-shirt was handing something over to the other, but I couldn’t see anything passing between them. Maybe it was something invisible, or something my mind just wasn’t built to perceive.
I continued to tug mechanically, trying to free her. Her skin was cold and slick and she was shivering. It did no good. The black crystal held fast. I nearly collapsed in relief and shock when the robed figure began to ascend back up to the prism it had come from, but the other grabbed onto its gown, communicating something. The robed being dropped back down, but threw its arms out in what I’d guessed was frustration. T-shirt gestured towards us again, still conversing with the other, waving its arms around. Still, the robed figure seemed to acquiesce and slid across the ground towards us again. Lights continued to flash behind its grill-face, all varying shades of orange and red. Like it was angry.
I couldn’t let it happen again, and lunged at it, planning to do - I don’t really know. I just wanted to protect my mum. Right as I made contact with the being, I felt a shift in the air. The fluid in my ears swirled. It made me dizzy. When my eyes stopped rolling to the side, I realised I was being held still by two pale, stunted arms, with odd patches of hot and cold travelling around on its skin. Somehow, I’d wound up in the arms of the being wearing a T-shirt, and those arms held me tight, tighter than any living thing should be able to.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!!” I screamed, flailing and lashing out. In a desperate bet for escape I tried to bite down on one of its arms. It felt like I’d been curb stomped, like I’d bitten down full-force on granite.
I kind of gave up after that. It just hurt too much to think. Instead, I took in my surroundings. Where was I again? Mum… mum.
The robed being was standing in the way of her, but it was doing something. I couldn’t see what, but by the way mum was squealing behind her gag, it made the first procedure sound like a pillow fight. I just cried. There was no other avenue for relief except the tears.
Then, everything went quiet. Mum trailed off into a whine, and then nothing. No wind, and no trees or leaves rustling, because they’d all vanished. Just me, mum, and these things. The one holding me loosened its grip and I gasped, gulping down stagnant air. It floated over to where mum was and the robed being stepped aside, finally letting me see what was happening.
I didn’t really want to know. I really, really didn’t. But my muscles were locked in place.
In one… hand? The robed being held one end of an artery it had pulled out of mum’s chest. Without warning, the two entities shot up into the air, coming to a halt somewhere above. As they moved, more blood vessels phased through the skin of mum’s body, contorting and straightening to fuse at their ends, forming an unholy, pulsing rope.
With speed faster than I could process, the beings flew away, vanishing into the night while clutching the single fused vessel of veins, arteries, and capillaries. There was blood, yes, but only a little. It all seemed to be contained in that one long tube they continued to pull along through the atmosphere.
From the opposite direction, they passed once. I saw them pass over one more time and disappear into the distance before the meaty vessel pulled taut. At the time, I hadn’t really pieced it together - I think they’d looped around the entire planet. Not once, but twice, and then some, in what couldn’t have been more than ten seconds.
I blinked, and they were back, standing in the parking lot and flashing their lights at each other. I didn’t even have the energy to whisper in protest. T-shirt looked reluctant in some way, and handed over more of something I couldn’t see to the robed entity.
As they did this, the red string they’d made from mum’s blood vessels pulled back by itself at impossible speeds, retracting out of over two loops of planet Earth and back into my mum, breaking apart, phasing back inside and reassembling into their proper structure. That’s what I’d guessed, anyway.
Glassy eyed and so, so pale, the crystalline restraints dissolved and my mum slumped limp to the ground. I stood motionless for a second before realising my own restraints were gone as well, and I bolted over to her.
I was whispering something. Assurances, maybe apologies, I can’t remember. The two beings watched us, then they ascended, back up to the dark prism and out of sight. It began to pull back, up into the sky, and when I blinked, all the trees and the grass were back.
It all felt normal. Almost normal. The only change was that the sky was a little darker, and my mum felt a little colder. Then a lot colder. I placed two fingers on her neck. There was no pulse.
When the paramedics arrived, they rushed over to us. Their movements were frantic but controlled. Just thirty seconds later, that urgent energy was gone, replaced by a dull rhythm that told me all I needed to know.
She was pronounced dead on scene.
The coroner later concluded that mum had simply ‘died’. No cause could be found, but brain damage signified a level of hypoxia. I guess that’s what happens when your blood is outside of you, even if just for a minute.
Strangely, I found my anxiety to diminish after that night. It still flares up now and then, but most of the time, there’s just this hollow feeling in its place. I don’t go to Aldi anymore. Seems silly to mull over something like that, but I can’t even be near those big parking lots now. I get my groceries delivered.
Maybe it sounds like I’m managing - I am. Inside, though, there’s a crack that can’t be fixed, can’t be filled. It’s worn down over time, gotten less jagged and easier to deal with. Things don’t really shock me anymore, or at least, the shock is dulled.
There will be no justice for her. Even if I sought it, I doubt we could ever even access whatever plane those beings hail from. Whatever power we think we have, all those things see when they look at us is a world of monkeys, banging stones together. I’m sure of it.
In fact, I’m willing to bet on it.
As much as they bet on my mum.

submitted by rephlexi0n to rephlect [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 21:01 rephlexi0n I should've just gone to Walmart

“Ugh, Emma, can you get the trunk for me?”
The dim winter sun was setting over the parking lot, nearly devoid of shoppers at this late hour, aside from a van in one distant corner that had just started backing out of its spot.
I set my bag down in the passenger seat and rounded the side of my mum’s penicillium-green Camry, met with her impatient and lightly sweating face. I popped the trunk, allowing her to practically collapse into it with the weight of the groceries. Something burst in one of the bags, prompting her to curse under her breath.
“I just don’t get why you won’t stick a quarter in those trolleys over there. You get it back afterwards.”
Mum, still arranging the bags into a position that would stop them toppling over on the drive home, looked at me scornfully.
“The Walmart downtown doesn’t make you pay. None of the stores around here do, so why should I? You know we only come here to Aldi ‘cause it’s cheaper.”
“I just said you get the quarter back afterwards. It’s to make sure people put the trolleys back,” I sighed, knowing there was no swaying her. Instead of shooting back with some flimsy reasoning, mum patted her pockets and swore.
“Oh for goodness sake, I’ve gone and left my wallet at the till again, haven’t I?”
Before I could get a word out, she was gone like a rocket, racing against the store’s closing time. Night’s chill descended, raising gooseflesh, so I slammed the trunk and hopped back into the passenger seat, out of the cold.
I sat there, praying my mum had the haste to get back soon with the keys and start up the heating. There was something else, though. My heart made itself known with a rising, incessant pulse. Was something wrong?
“Not this again,” I groaned, shutting my eyes and following a basic breathing routine to calm my nerves. The anxiety was bad enough, but the anger I felt at the nonsense panic had always been worse for me.
“Just stop it. Lasagna’s waiting for us at home. It’s gonna be so g–”
I opened my eyes.
Had I heard something? No, not heard, felt? I leaned forward to scan the parking lot. Nothing. Then I jumped back in my seat. There it was again. It was subtle, so much so I was surprised I’d even noticed it. A light, but bone-deep vibration was emanating from somewhere. Almost like someone nearby was subtly trying to pull down on a gigantic zipper, one tooth at a time. The comparison should’ve sounded silly, but my heart continued to pound faster and faster until I was sure beyond a doubt that something bad would happen. Something was wrong.
It took me longer than I’d have liked to get out, with the seat belt clamping as I struggled to unbuckle. There was no smell in the air. Did it smell before? I couldn’t remember. No more cars in the lot, only the Camry. No more noise.
Again, that slight vibration in the air. Too low a frequency to determine its source, but enough to sense it was there. I tilted my head, staring up at lumpy clouds that cast shadows on each other. Ah, those clouds. I’ve always loved how they look around sundown. It helped to ease my heart a little.
Until one of the shadows moved.
I’m not stupid, I thought it was just a cloud’s shadow matching its slow drift across the sky - I squinted. The shadow wasn’t being cast on a cloud. It was above, or behind them, which made me realise whatever I was seeing, it wasn’t a shadow.
What happened next is hard to articulate. I’ve never seen anything else like it, before or since. The dark mass above the clouds began to sort of extend, beaming down at an angle, like sun rays but moving at a steady pace, or how water or ink moves up paper by way of capillary action. A black beam. But, it was more than that.
I was so absorbed in the spectacle, it hadn’t fully dawned on me that this thing was getting closer. Closer to me. And as it closed in, there was no mistaking it. While it continued to stretch all the way back above the clouds, the outline of it, the cross-section, was almost human-shaped. Arms, head, body, and legs, but the limbs ended in stunted nubs, like a stick figure.
By the time it stopped a good three or four storeys above, I still hadn’t moved. I couldn’t. I could do nothing but watch in disbelief as lights and layers of colour began to flash inside the human-ish figure, seeming to have parallax, as if whatever lay beyond was a space of its own.
Amazingly, something managed to distract me for a moment. A flash of light in my peripheral. A phone torch.
“Emma? Emma! Are you having a stroke or something?”
I blinked.
“What– no? I mean, I…”
Mum was back, apparently still without her wallet, now scanning the asphalt for any sign of it. Why didn’t I hear her coming back?
She clicked her tongue.
“Then stop standing there like an idiot and help me find it. Come on, it’s getting late.”
I did, in fact, keep standing there, glancing between her and the flashing shadow prism above us. I did a double take. Those glaringly bright, almost offensively coloured layers were speeding up towards the end of the beam, towards me, piling up on themselves to assemble a figure, stepping soundlessly out into thin air.
Mum kept calling for me. I heard her, but couldn’t process her words. Everything else was secondary to the figure above us. It had fully formed, cloaked in a coarse-looking gown, with skin so pale and shadeless it was as if it radiated a faint glow. The sound of rapid footsteps brought me back to myself, and I looked down just in time to see my mum, face painted in a teetering mixture of worry and annoyance. She went to speak but I held up a hand, and pointed to the figure.
Squinting at me, she looked to where I was pointing, and froze. The whole time, I’d secretly been hoping I was just hallucinating, but she saw it too. She saw something, at least, and that was enough to confirm what I’d been dreading.
“...who is that?” she asked. Her voice sounded so small and dry. If I could’ve spoken I’d have asked, “what is that?”
Instead, I watched on in terror as the figure began a slow descent, straight down. The closer it drew, the more of it I could make out. There were these iridescent lines floating across the surface of its skin, moving like sun patterns on the bottom of a swimming pool. Like the silhouette it had emerged from, it had no hands or feet. Just rounded nubs, although those on its arms had the same slight depression in the centre.
“Car… the car. Mum, the car, get in the car, now,” I whispered. No response. I reached out, grabbing her by the arm and shaking her. She was absolutely rigid. One of us had to move, and I imagined we were both hoping the other would do so.
A second figure emerged from the prism, identical to the first, except it was wearing a plain T-shirt and shorts. At the same time, the first one finally touched down on the asphalt and stood, tilting its head up, apparently waiting for the other to arrive.
If I had any lingering doubt that these things weren’t human, it was squashed when I saw their faces - or, lack thereof. I couldn’t see any ears, and where a face should’ve been was only a circular metal grate. Maybe gold, or brass.
The four of us stood there, still and silent. They stared at us, and we stared right back, completely lost in the foreign sight of the beings. A breath, then they turned to each other. I don’t know if I expected them to talk, but they didn’t. Not in any language I know. Faint at first, getting brighter with every pulse, constellations began to flash behind the metal face-grates of each of them. I heard nothing aside from a few damped vibrations, yet somehow, I knew there was a conversation going on.
Very slowly, I took a step back, and reached an arm behind me to feel for the car. All the while, my eyes stayed locked on the beings. I kept reaching, further and further. My fingers brushed nothing but air.
One of them abruptly turned and looked at me, or at mum, I couldn’t tell. My chest tightened. This wasn’t happening. It raised one stunted arm to point at my mum, releasing another cascade of flashing lights behind its grill face. The other crossed its arms and looked over too, like it was waiting for something.
I had to risk it. I pivoted, throwing a glance over my shoulder. The car was twenty, maybe twenty-five feet away. I didn’t remember wandering that far from it. I noticed something else then: the trees, the grass, all of the greenery surrounding the parking lot was… gone. It gave me the impression of a planet that had never evolved life, or where all life was extinct. There was only bare, dark soil enclosing the lot.
Seconds before I went for the car, mum let out a scream. One that I still hear from time to time, in dreams and background noise. I spun around to see the first being, the one wearing a gown, gliding across the ground with an arm outstretched. Mum didn’t have time to move. It came to a dead stop before her, arm still raised, and I saw something emerging from the small depression at the end of its stump - what I now understood was a hole. Whatever came out was darker than the night sky, and I couldn’t place its shape, but it looked like it was made out of a mass of ever-shifting black crystals.
Mum screamed again. It was more of a gasp actually, a gasp that lasted barely a second before a bubble broke free of the shifting appendage and fixed itself over her mouth, silencing her. Another four floated down to her wrists and ankles, binding her in place and stopping her from moving as one more broke off from the being. It looked a little like an arrowhead, or some other sharp, triangular tool, a razor edge cutting through the air and hovering just over her stomach.
I understood the danger then - not for me, but her. Abandoning caution, I leapt forward, yelling,
“Get away from her!”
But I rolled my ankle and went crashing down onto cold, hard asphalt. Dazed, I tried to lift myself, and managed to look up at the beings with blood pouring from my nose and a cut on my cheek. The one in front of my mum barely seemed to notice me, giving me a quick look then getting back to the matter at hand, whatever that was.
Mum squirmed against her restraints, issuing muffled groans through her nose. I forced my limbs to work, but I was held fast. Mounds of that shifting black crystal had smothered my hands, binding them to the ground.
I looked at my mum, helpless, terrified. She met my eyes, blinked away a tear, and squeezed her eyelids shut. At the back, the being wearing a T-shirt made some kind of gesture, like it was impatient, and the robed being nodded, turning back to mum and directing the arrow-shaped object. At the same time, her blouse began to lift up and off her, pulled by an invisible force and exposing her belly. The being hesitated for a second, and I felt a spark of hope, that it might show mercy.
But of course it didn’t.
The dark arrowhead pressed into her skin, slicing through layers like butter and dragging a line downwards, leaving a clean incision. Wasting no time, the being reached inside, fiddled around for a moment, then pulled out the severed end of my mum’s intestine. Blood and shit splattered the ground, trailing away from her as the being floated backwards, keeping hold of the organ until it was stretched to its full length.
I tasted bile.
“STOP! You fucks, you fucking–”
A gush of vomit interrupted me, flooding out onto the ground and mixing in with the intestinal fluids to create a disgusting, speckled pattern which prompted another wave of vomit from me and tears to cloud my vision.
“Please…”
I wiped my sleeve over my eyes so I could see. The being in a T-shirt had a long, pole-shaped protrusion stretching out from the end of its arm, extending to match the length of my mother’s intestines. It studied something for a second, before shrugging, and nodding at the robed being.
In the blink of an eye, the intestines retracted back like a frightened snake and piled back inside mum’s body. I just stared, not able to understand. The sides of the incision pulled into each other and appeared to heal completely in a matter of seconds. As soon as I’d processed this, I felt my restraints slacken then disappear entirely, and I shot to my feet, nearly tripping over again, and grasped onto mum’s arm.
I pulled, under the assumption that she’d been released. She wasn’t. Why weren’t they letting her go?
Freezing up, I cranked my head to look at the beings. More flashing lights. The one in a T-shirt was handing something over to the other, but I couldn’t see anything passing between them. Maybe it was something invisible, or something my mind just wasn’t built to perceive.
I continued to tug mechanically, trying to free her. Her skin was cold and slick and she was shivering. It did no good. The black crystal held fast. I nearly collapsed in relief and shock when the robed figure began to ascend back up to the prism it had come from, but the other grabbed onto its gown, communicating something. The robed being dropped back down, but threw its arms out in what I’d guessed was frustration. T-shirt gestured towards us again, still conversing with the other, waving its arms around. Still, the robed figure seemed to acquiesce and slid across the ground towards us again. Lights continued to flash behind its grill-face, all varying shades of orange and red. Like it was angry.
I couldn’t let it happen again, and lunged at it, planning to do - I don’t really know. I just wanted to protect my mum. Right as I made contact with the being, I felt a shift in the air. The fluid in my ears swirled. It made me dizzy. When my eyes stopped rolling to the side, I realised I was being held still by two pale, stunted arms, with odd patches of hot and cold travelling around on its skin. Somehow, I’d wound up in the arms of the being wearing a T-shirt, and those arms held me tight, tighter than any living thing should be able to.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!!” I screamed, flailing and lashing out. In a desperate bet for escape I tried to bite down on one of its arms. It felt like I’d been curb stomped, like I’d bitten down full-force on granite.
I kind of gave up after that. It just hurt too much to think. Instead, I took in my surroundings. Where was I again? Mum… mum.
The robed being was standing in the way of her, but it was doing something. I couldn’t see what, but by the way mum was squealing behind her gag, it made the first procedure sound like a pillow fight. I just cried. There was no other avenue for relief except the tears.
Then, everything went quiet. Mum trailed off into a whine, and then nothing. No wind, and no trees or leaves rustling, because they’d all vanished. Just me, mum, and these things. The one holding me loosened its grip and I gasped, gulping down stagnant air. It floated over to where mum was and the robed being stepped aside, finally letting me see what was happening.
I didn’t really want to know. I really, really didn’t. But my muscles were locked in place.
In one… hand? The robed being held one end of an artery it had pulled out of mum’s chest. Without warning, the two entities shot up into the air, coming to a halt somewhere above. As they moved, more blood vessels phased through the skin of mum’s body, contorting and straightening to fuse at their ends, forming an unholy, pulsing rope.
With speed faster than I could process, the beings flew away, vanishing into the night while clutching the single fused vessel of veins, arteries, and capillaries. There was blood, yes, but only a little. It all seemed to be contained in that one long tube they continued to pull along through the atmosphere.
From the opposite direction, they passed once. I saw them pass over one more time and disappear into the distance before the meaty vessel pulled taut. At the time, I hadn’t really pieced it together - I think they’d looped around the entire planet. Not once, but twice, and then some, in what couldn’t have been more than ten seconds.
I blinked, and they were back, standing in the parking lot and flashing their lights at each other. I didn’t even have the energy to whisper in protest. T-shirt looked reluctant in some way, and handed over more of something I couldn’t see to the robed entity.
As they did this, the red string they’d made from mum’s blood vessels pulled back by itself at impossible speeds, retracting out of over two loops of planet Earth and back into my mum, breaking apart, phasing back inside and reassembling into their proper structure. That’s what I’d guessed, anyway.
Glassy eyed and so, so pale, the crystalline restraints dissolved and my mum slumped limp to the ground. I stood motionless for a second before realising my own restraints were gone as well, and I bolted over to her.
I was whispering something. Assurances, maybe apologies, I can’t remember. The two beings watched us, then they ascended, back up to the dark prism and out of sight. It began to pull back, up into the sky, and when I blinked, all the trees and the grass were back.
It all felt normal. Almost normal. The only change was that the sky was a little darker, and my mum felt a little colder. Then a lot colder. I placed two fingers on her neck. There was no pulse.
When the paramedics arrived, they rushed over to us. Their movements were frantic but controlled. Just thirty seconds later, that urgent energy was gone, replaced by a dull rhythm that told me all I needed to know.
She was pronounced dead on scene.
The coroner later concluded that mum had simply ‘died’. No cause could be found, but brain damage signified a level of hypoxia. I guess that’s what happens when your blood is outside of you, even if just for a minute.
Strangely, I found my anxiety to diminish after that night. It still flares up now and then, but most of the time, there’s just this hollow feeling in its place. I don’t go to Aldi anymore. Seems silly to mull over something like that, but I can’t even be near those big parking lots now. I get my groceries delivered.
Maybe it sounds like I’m managing - I am. Inside, though, there’s a crack that can’t be fixed, can’t be filled. It’s worn down over time, gotten less jagged and easier to deal with. Things don’t really shock me anymore, or at least, the shock is dulled.
There will be no justice for her. Even if I sought it, I doubt we could ever even access whatever plane those beings hail from. Whatever power we think we have, all those things see when they look at us is a world of monkeys, banging stones together. I’m sure of it.
In fact, I’m willing to bet on it.
As much as they bet on my mum.

submitted by rephlexi0n to nosleep [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 20:47 JC_Writing [HF] The Gift, Part 1.

The golden rays of early morning shone into the shelter, landing on the boy’s eyes. This stirred him from sleep and through instinct, he immediately clutched at his chest, making sure it was still there. A small pouch tied to a cord draped around his neck, the reason he embarked on this journey. He crawled from the hovel of branches and dead leaves into the forest. The trees were beginning to shed, and the ground was damp. The dense woods turning light brown. The boy set out to look for food.
Silent and slow, the boy explored the forested basin, bow in hand. There were no signs of anything larger than himself there. No trails, no droppings, nothing that might provide the boy with a meal that would last longer than a few days. Birds would do. So, the boy continued, his gaze focused on the forest canopy. While terrain, weather and people might have changed throughout his journey, hunger was the only certainty.
Some time later, the boy managed to shoot down two scrawny cranes and had them tied around his waist. He spied a swan resting at the banks of the river. It was far, but his father taught him to shoot well. The boy focused, drew in a breath, and loosed the arrow. It grazed the swan’s neck, and struck a rock behind it, flint tip shattering. The swan began twitching on the gravel bank, the indirect strike broke its neck. Before the boy approached the dying bird, he noticed a rustling in the bushes next to it. He stopped and waited. A wild dog emerged, just as cautious as the boy, and slowly padded towards the swan. The boy could see its ribs clearly through the dogs matted fur, its shoulder blades threatening to break through its skin. He let the dog take his kill.
It was raining heavily. The boy decided to make camp inside a deadfall at the banks of the river. The boy sat soaked and shivering next to his fire. As he dried, he dreamt of warmer lands, and of the place he received his gift.
The sun steadily grew warmer. The lands changing from a lush green to dry grass and eventually to dust and cracked rock. The people also changed. They spoke in a language strange to the boy, guiding him with vague gestures and garbled tongues. He stumbled through the desert, trailing behind his guides, accumulating other ragged followers as they went. Then he saw it. Just along the shimmering horizon was a blot of green atop a hill. A beacon in the desert calling out to lost pilgrims seeking to gain its knowledge.
As the weary group approached the high perched temple, the dry winds carried the stench of rotting flesh. Bodies lay strewn on the sand, swarmed by countless vultures. Their decaying flesh being ripped from the bone by great hooked beaks, their bones to be returned in time to that sacred place atop the hill. Like the wilderness surrounding it, the temple’s rites embodied all aspects of life; With death being a necessity for birth and growth.
The boy plunged his face into the natural spring at the gates of the temple, wetting his parched throat and blistered face. A plant grew around the spring, and it grew like no other plant the boy had ever seen. Lines were dug into the earth, allowing water to flow through impossibly straight rows of tall grass. He knew that this was the reason he was sent here.
The days grew longer and longer, with more and more travellers arriving at the oasis. The boy was sitting in the large camp of strangers and the sun had reached its highest point of the year when they were summoned into the temple.
The boy surveyed the cavernous hall, perplexed. A juxtaposition of the natural and artificial. The large room was composed of straight lines and sharp angles, yet etched into the stone was lifelike depictions of the desert fauna; Foxes chasing rabbits, herds of wild horses running along the walls of the room, and in the centre a mighty pillar carrying the image of a large vulture, its magnificent wings spread, scythe beak turned to the side on full display.
The ceremony began with the beating of drums echoing off the high walls. A large stone basin was brought before the audience. With elegant movements, the temple’s residents poured soil into the basin. A human bone was ground up, the bleached white powder scattered onto the soil. They produced seeds from small pouches hung around their necks and buried it in the basin’s loose mixture. Next, they poured that life giving water from the spring onto the soil and began to dance around the room. The boy’s eyes traced their swirling and noticed the moon carvings on the walls. Waxing and waning stone circles. This dance was the passage of time. Each lap of the hall representing months. All while the seed waited in damp soil.
The boy and his fellow travellers were ushered out of the hall and were led to the spring with the strange grass. The grass was cut from the ground and beaten against a flat rock releasing its grain, the stalks being cast aside. The grain was ground down, mixed with water, and baked over a fire. The audience feasted on this new food, along with all manner of desert beasts and a thick liquid that made the boy feel dizzy. The boy hadn’t feasted so much in his entire life. But food wasn’t the gift he had come all this way to receive, at least not in this form. When it was time for them to leave the temple, each group of travellers were presented with a small pouch much like those the dancers wore. The families rejoiced at receiving this benevolent gift, the boy received his gift alone.
The land was dusted with frost, cold winds funnelled through the mountain pass biting at the boy’s skin. Occasionally he would glance behind him, spotting the same wild dog watching from behind a rock or quickly running out of sight. It had been trailing behind him ever since he had shot down that swan.
The boy paused for a moment, then quickly ducked down behind a mound of loose stone. There was a clearing in the woods below, and noises. Speech. A group began to enter the clearing. A band of young men, around the boys age, carrying spears and clubs, wearing the skins of great beasts. He had heard of such people from some of the pilgrims in the desert. Boys sent out into the wilderness, tasked with killing a creature stronger than them, wearing its skin, and returning as men. The boy could hear them from far up the mountain ridge. No doubt the animals in that forest did too. The rear of the line finally emerged into the clearing. They were dragging along women bound at the wrist. Stripped bare, some younger than the boy, some with hair beginning to grey. Most had distended bellies hanging from skeletal frames wholly unsuited for the burden of pregnancy. The boy waited; Still frozen in place long after the party had disappeared back into the treeline. When he could only hear the natural sounds of the forest once more, he rose to his feet and looked up at a path further up the mountain. The wide eyes of the dog stared back at him, waiting for the boy to move ahead so that it too could stand up and continue its journey.
As time passed, the land grew a thick coating of snow. Food was even harder to come by now, yet with each kill he would leave a small pile of refuse some way away from his camp. It would always be gone by the next morning. He didn’t see the dog much. It was a careful companion, and rightfully so. The boy had noticed the dog’s belly swelling over time; It would have pups any day now.
Amongst the snowcapped trees the boy found a glacial lake. Shimmering blue reflecting the cloudless winter sky above it. He would be able to fish here, possibly enough to last him the remainder of the journey. He didn’t know how close he was. He thought he recognised the land surrounding him, yet the drifting snow made him uncertain. He made camp in a small cove along the lakeshore, weaving basket shaped traps and leaving a pile of slightly damp wood for a fire later.
The boy paced along the water, dropping traps where forest streams fed the lake. While he waited, he chipped at the edges of his knife, dull stone flaking off to reveal a hidden sharp edge. The traps hadn’t caught as many as he’d hoped, but it’d keep him fed, and that was enough. After gutting the fish with his newly renovated knife and draping them over the smoky fire to dry, he walked a little bit further down the shore and left a pile of offal. He placed a whole fish at the top, for the pups.
Back at the camp he stripped down, leaving the small pouch tucked in a crevice for safekeeping. It was a while since he bathed, but it wasn’t raining now, and he had a fire to dry off next to. He made his way back to the edge of the water and looked down, gazing at his reflection in the water. It revealed someone unrecognisable to the boy, pale goose pimpled skin stretched over a wiry frame, more bone than muscle. Hair also began to sprout on his upper lip, this journey had changed him.
He tread the freezing water until his feet began to go numb and the sun began to set. As he emerged from the lake, he noticed that the pile of guts was left untouched. No matter, it would be gone by tomorrow. With shaky steps he went back to the camp, barricading the entrance with stones and fallen branches to keep the heat in. He sat next to the fire clutching the gift around his neck, hoping he would see his family again soon.
A sharp gust of wind entered the cove, waking the boy up. Through sleep blurred eyes he saw figures standing over him. He shot up, spun to the entrance, and saw them clearly. The pelt hunters. The eldest stood before him, a cloak of thick sandy coloured fur slung over his shoulder, grinning with teeth that were beginning to brown. An unseen blow struck the side of the boy's head, and he went back to sleep.

submitted by JC_Writing to shortstories [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 20:42 AwstinEvans TIFU by overdosing on Cetirizine

So over the past few days, my allergies have been flaring up worse than they have any year before this one. I had never really had allergies up until about 3 years ago, and since then they have been getting worse and worse with each passing year. My eyes have been super itchy, which has never been a problem, and the roof of my mouth has been a bit more itchy and annoying than usual. Because of this, I obviously started taking allergy pills to remedy it, specifically "Aller-Tec," or, as it is generically called, cetirizine. I haven't had the best sleep schedule as of late, mostly due to getting off of college for the summer, where 5–6 a.m. nights in the studio were pretty common, so getting up at noon has been pretty normal for me. Right when I wake up, I take one pill to help for most of the day, and it works just fine until around 9 or 10 p.m., when my allergies start to flare up again and I take another. It's around here that I should mention that I have felt like utter garbage the past few days. My mood has been all over the place. I am constantly tired, depressed, and really on edge. To the point where yesterday I yelled something at my mom, something I NEVER do. I am typically a pretty "happy-go-lucky" guy, and I love my mom. On top of this, when I get in bed at night, I have been having horrible chest pains and ciculatory issues that cause numbing and aching pains all over my body, making sleep incredibly difficult. 2 nights ago, the chest pains got so bad that I thought I was actually having a heart attack at 20 years old. Of course, I just assumed that my mood being all over the place was due to the fact that either I have been struggling to find summer work or that I'm away from school and my friends. Even just yesterday, I assumed that my chest pains were due to the fact I had been sitting on my ass playing Skyrim for over a week and not getting enough sunlight, so I went on a 2-hour bike ride to get some exercise in. These pieces all came together last night, when I was playing some games with friends over Discord. My allergies started flaring up again, to the point where I could barely see my monitor through the tears in my eyes. The roof of my mouth was on fire, and my nose was flooding with snot. I excused myself for a minute to go and get some more allergy pills. As I was about to take my second pill within 8 hours of the last, I decided I wanted to check the label to see if it was maybe okay to take MORE than what I was already taking. Of course, the label clearly stated, "DO NOT EXCEED MORE THAN ONE CAPSULE PER DAY." I was horrified because, not only have I been taking more than one, but in one instance, I had technically taken 3 within a 24 hour period. I immediately ran upstairs to check my computer, and lo and behold, the top results for cetirizine overdose symptoms are as follows:
Symptoms of Overdose

Changes in mood, irrational behavior, depersonalization hallucinations
convulsions (seizures)
extreme sleepiness or unusual drowsiness
fast, slow, pounding, or irregular heartbeat or pulse
feeling anxious
irritability
muscle weakness or tenderness
restlessness
sleeplessness or trouble in sleeping
abdominal and/or chest pain

I had been actively overdosing on allergy pills the past few days. Part of this shock was actually relief funnily enough because me feeling like shit the past few days, and treating other people like shit, was not really a problem with me, but actually the obsene amounts of stimulants in my system. I can happily report that last night I fell asleep just fine with no chest pain and woke up today feeling a whole lot better. My parents were horrified when I told them, my brother (rightfully so) called me a "fucking idiot." And before anyone in the comments says anything, I have already called my doctor for prescription strength allergy medications. The moral of the story is, obviously, please read the labels on medication bottles.
EDIT: Edit because I feel like I need to clarify a few things. Firstly, what I was taking was 10mg prescription strength cetirizine. Second, I know this doesn't seem like a high amount but I have sensitivities to a lot of things including alcohol, and have had problems with other medications in the past. Lastly, some comments pointed out that some of these concerns may be related to stress or anxiety. While yes I have struggled with these things before, it has not been a problem for a while, and all of these side effects stopped after not taking them anymore.
TL;DR: I have been feeling like garbage the past few days with no clue as to why, turns out I have been overdosing on allergy medication.

submitted by AwstinEvans to tifu [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 20:30 Wild_Cellist9861 Gamers Break Away [GBA]

My fellow gamers, for too long has our community suffered the indignation of an intolerable culture that has denigrated, besmirched, exploited, and has outright demonized our culture of unique individuals with a genuine love of a hobby that they see as profitable and progressive. They have taken beloved IP’s (Intellectual Properties) and twisted them into their own personal ideological crusade of undermining and humiliating the core aspects of characters they deemed as “Toxic” or “White Supremacy”. Through the guise and protection of DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusivity) & ESG (Environmental, Social, and Governance) they have used our influence in the entertainment industry to push their narratives and agendas that have stigmatized our culture with numerous anti-consumer practices that they call “being progressive”. But the truth of the matter is they were never really looking to be a part of our community, they simply wanted to use our community as a tool of activism and propaganda in the entertainment industry as it was extremely profitable, and they wanted inclusion in that division. Ever since GamerGate & Female Frequency, we have had to endure the incursion of forced ideologies, xenophobic behaviors and inferior overpriced products that have never been in our best interest and have been flat out disgraceful towards foreign media.
Before Gaming had become a major source of entertainment, we were often categorized as anti-social or societies rejects where because we found more enjoyment in playing fictional characters and not spending as much time out and about, we never fully assimilated in society (which is a good thing if you ask me). From 1998 to 2007, at the height of innovation, creativity and production, Gaming had reached a golden age in which it had revolutionized society. Hollywood Execs who had ruined the movie industry turned their attention to video games as a source of income since video games had outperformed movies in terms of profit. No one was concerned about gaming, much less diversity or inclusivity until it became profitable. This makes people like SBI look extremely disingenuous as they were not interested in gamers as a community with its own culture. They simply wanted to use it as another weapon in identity politics.
Microtransactions; the hidden enemy to gamer progress and inducer to mental laziness of our community. Microtransactions have been around for a long time; however, it has never been more potent and apparent than in recent years. It has aided in the dismantling and segregation of players on the ideology of FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) and has created another sub-culture of gamers who have no real drive to be better outside of how much money they put into the game. This has degraded our culture as well as we have become “fat” off transactional gaming but at the same time we have been “starved” of purposeful gaming where our achievements were our sustenance. I am not saying that microtransactions are bad, but when they are exploitative and predatorial like they have been and don’t give gamers room to grow, we become lethargic and unwilling to improve ourselves as gamers. Oversaturated microtransactional games are one of the many reasons why we have become complacent and unwilling to fight against the exploitative tactics used by big brand game companies such EA, Ubisoft, ActivisionBlizzard, NaughtyDog and so many other western business model companies. Western style games were not like this in the past, they had much more depth and actual effort put into them with the gamer in mind. This has not been the case for over a decade and our connection to western developers has been whittled down to just being transactional. That is one of the reasons why you see so many remasters and remakes in today’s gamer community. They have lost their willingness to improve as developers of games and simply accept corporate/share holder rules.
Game journalists also do not have any real integrity or purpose outside of being funded for their involvement in promoting IPG (Identity Political Games) in a positive light to the public whether it’s positively received or not. They are not interested in what we have to say, they all support the same agenda and that is why they are a dying breed. Within the next couple of years, they will be out of the job and more than likely they will not be able to stay in the industry giving how they have responded to past articles that have clearly been scripted on the premise of diversity and racism. Not only that, but most of them are also extremely hostile to the community as they stereotype and defame the individuals that are a part of the community they are supposed to serve. We have been mentally liberated from their lies and coercive tactics as we tend to laugh at their obvious attempt at virtue signaling while hiding their misdoings so that they can play the victim.
My gamer brothers & sisters, I would not suggest the following action that we must take now without good cause. I have weighed our options and the best option for us now is this…...CULTURAL SECESSION. Naturally this is a form of segregation where they would more than likely claim they are being segregated by the dominant culture of the gaming community but that is incorrect. For years now we have been the ones who are often marginalized and ostracized for the smaller portion of our community. And when we aren’t, we’re exploited for more funds so that these companies can stay in business only to subject us to low quality products that coincide with the “WOKE Agenda” that are often huge expenses to these big brands i.e. AAA/AAAA games that will eventually flop for its obvious forced diversity and bug infested product which will undoubtedly piss off the consumer to the point of wanting a refund. Losing copious amounts of capital and stock in the process, not to mention their reputation is permanently marred.
We must separate on every cultural level in terms of entertainment and ideology. We must reject everything from the west that promotes toxic western beliefs, practices, and exclusion from other cultures (i.e. Southeastern Countries such as Japan and Korea). Japan & Korea have been the targets of unjust discrimination from Western Developers, Western Journalists, Western Localizers (The Wokelizers) and Western Society Prejudice regarding their sense of aesthetics as Westerners hate the aesthetic sense of these countries. The reason why they resort to such base tactics isn’t just because it weaponizes the ideal female form but it’s also because they have deep-seated insecurities about their own looks so when they see attractive female characters, they use terms such as “unrealistic” or “hypersexualized” to establish the moral high ground. But the truth is, they want to feel superior to that which is ideal, so they insult and dehumanize this figure that portrays natural female beauty because they see it as an insult to their own social superiority in what they believe is a hierarchy of them being at the top of all other women. Because of this and so many contributing factors, their movies flop harder than the Fat Chocobo landing on a group of enemies and their games seismically fail just as much if not more. We must sever our connection to Western Developers, Publishers, and ALL Western-Centric Entertainment for they seek to mentally enslave us to their Xenophobic ideology.
Let’s define Western Culture and its traits. Western Culture/Society is composed of more than several different ideologies that work in unison with one another to facilitate dominance over multiple aspects of society. Business, Social, Political, Technological, and sometimes even Global Affairs are affected by these ideologies that portray a specific mindset of Western beliefs. What are those ideologies you ask?

Perpetual Victimhood: By weaponizing the fact that they are marginalized and of a small portion of western society, they can push their agenda to absurd standards that ultimately ostracize the main demographic. And when companies don’t capitulate, they are labeled as anti-progressive/misogynist’s or cohorts of White Supremacy. They use this to cancel their targets and silence them through societal defamation to keep the public on their side. They also use this mindset to justify their own lack of self-agency as they tend to throw companies who do adhere to their demands but miserably fail to turn a profit under the bus so that they can maintain face in front of the public while denying their actual involvement. They will never accept “Sense of Agency” when it’s negative but will gladly accept it when a positive outcome shines on them as if they are entitled to it.

Official Wiki GamerGate Page)

Societal Terrorism: This is another form of ideology weaponization that they use in order to make companies “toe-the-line” with their agenda. By weaponizing cancel culture, they exert dominance over these companies but in exchange they also reimburse those companies with DEI & ESG funds that raise their credit score as well as having social status with the marginalized demographic. However; cancel culture has not succeeded in years and developers and publishers probably only want the money and the DEI ESG rating. But they have to maintain the image of having social economic power so that they can continue to strong-arm other developers into compliance and promoting financial benefits of DEI & ESG. In other words, if you are not for sale, they discredit and stigmatize you in the industry.

Asmongold Clips.
https://youtu.be/Iq86DnmX2xY

“Its not us, its you who’s wrong” Mentality: This mentality is especially annoying as they tend to use it to hide their incompetence. They often look down upon gamers who are not in the industry to hide their obvious lack of knowledge on game development thinking that their job title grants them special status that they believe gives them the right to be condescending. But the truth they never wanted revealed has already strangled their careers of all credibility. They were never GAMERS, they were INVADERS. Community Colonists that seek to indoctrinate next generational gamers into their hive-mind and brand previous generations of gamers as villains.

@GeeksandGamers
https://youtu.be/1HbrTkqQFuM

Double-standard Enforcement: By labeling something as “unrealistic” or “hypersexualized”, they can claim this is morally wrong if it promotes traditional dynamics between men and women. Heterosexual relationships are condemned while at the same time Same-sex relationships are praised. Additionally, heterosexual relationships with main white male characters turn antagonistic and spotlight stealing. This is deliberate as to promote the “Girl Boss” ideology to indoctrinate women into the Feminazi state of mind. While at the same time, should a male character also adopt the “I don’t need male/female” ideology its seen as Toxic Masculinity which isn’t even a real thing. The idea of a strong male character is taboo while enforcing strong female characters is the ideal.

@MugenLord
https://youtu.be/to5Uciy_yeg
@EndymionTv
https://youtu.be/7TPTR8-qmbk

Dehumanization/Demonization: This is something that most military branches use in order to remove conscious inhibitions such as mass slaughter is wrong or categorization. By enforcing ideologies to denounce humanity in certain targets, it deactivates your conscience by saying this is not human therefore its ethically okay to treat this target without compassion and deny the fact it has sentience. We gamers fall under this category for journalists, developers, companies and society at large. This is a tactic we are familiar with to an extent as it implies that we are not normal when we do not do what everybody else is doing. “Geeks are the worse” or “Nerds need to fall into a pit of lava” are verbal dehumanization forms that most people in society say and we as Gamers tend to be relegated to those categories. This is their way of imposing the social hierarchy on us by establishing superiority. We know this as Gamers as we see it very often in the games that we play and some times experience it in real life.

https://rationalwiki.org/wiki/Gamergate#The_end_of_their_relevance

Deflection/Projection: This is basic psychology 101. By redirecting the conversation away from their mistakes and back on to the opposing view to avert blame and justify their innocence they can avoid criticism. However; deflection is a CONSCIOUS decision, meaning they have no real argument to justify their incompetence. If you can consciously process the situation, you have self-agency which means you don’t have a legitimate excuse. Projection is something else entirely. Most times, Projection doesn’t work on conscious decisions rather it is automatically deployed when feeling threatened, anxious or both. Instead of accepting accountability for feelings or actions that are deemed socially unacceptable they accuse others of committing that unacceptable behavior thereby exonerating themselves and proving that those feelings and/or actions are not their own.

@TheTrentReport
https://youtu.be/bPIPSKruYRo
These traits are so nefarious and unconscionable that I have a hard time believing that anyone could harbor them. However, given the social, political, and economic climate that we are in, those in power who use their influence on controlling society most definitely possess these insidious traits. Everything that they do is all about control and since video games are the biggest market in the world, they want control over it and the communities built around it to accrue more wealth and to use that wealth to subjugate other cultures. Mainstream media is a tool as well as mainstream organizations and sites to help accomplish this goal.
The government recently announced its intentions towards what they believe is “GamerGate 2.0” and now even the ADL has made an official appearance, referring to gamers as “extremist’s”. We know EXACTLY what they are doing, and they aren’t even trying to hide it anymore because they don’t think we are aware of their motives. This is just a pretext for them to exert even more control and we know why, it’s because they want the influence we as a community have to must serve them. So here is what we do my fellow gamers-
“In light of recent events and years of mainstream stigma, we the members of the Global Gaming Community [GGC] must officially renounce ALL TIES to the corporate western video game market. We have been financially exploited through predatorial monetization schemes, pelted with numerous articles of disdain and intentional misrepresentation from game journalists, news outlets regarding us as dangerous individuals and, even subjected to inferior products not only riddled with bugs but also products meant to push political agendas. For the preservation of our community and its unique culture, apart from a few select game development studios we officially sever all connections to western owned video game companies & their mainstream affiliates. From this point onward, we will no longer support western corporate developers, journalists and publishers that do not coincide with the goals of our community.”
Naturally this is completely optional. If you are okay with the state of the gaming community as it is, feel free to ignore this. But if you wish for real change and a break away from oversaturated monetization in the games you play and the push for radical ideological reform, then you are in the right place. Lets sever these rotted miasmic ties once and for all so that our community can be preserved and made better for future gamers. If you agree with this, share it with whoever you think might be interested. The more gamers who get involved, the easier it will be for us to finally break free from mainstream game companies and their associates.

submitted by Wild_Cellist9861 to United_Gamer_Front [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 20:30 Wild_Cellist9861 Gamers Break Away [GBA]

Perpetual Victimhood: By weaponizing the fact that they are marginalized and of a small portion of western society, they can push their agenda to absurd standards that ultimately ostracize the main demographic. And when companies don’t capitulate, they are labeled as anti-progressive/misogynist’s or cohorts of White Supremacy. They use this to cancel their targets and silence them through societal defamation to keep the public on their side. They also use this mindset to justify their own lack of self-agency as they tend to throw companies who do adhere to their demands but miserably fail to turn a profit under the bus so that they can maintain face in front of the public while denying their actual involvement. They will never accept “Sense of Agency” when it’s negative but will gladly accept it when a positive outcome shines on them as if they are entitled to it.

Official Wiki GamerGate Page)

Societal Terrorism: This is another form of ideology weaponization that they use in order to make companies “toe-the-line” with their agenda. By weaponizing cancel culture, they exert dominance over these companies but in exchange they also reimburse those companies with DEI & ESG funds that raise their credit score as well as having social status with the marginalized demographic. However; cancel culture has not succeeded in years and developers and publishers probably only want the money and the DEI ESG rating. But they have to maintain the image of having social economic power so that they can continue to strong-arm other developers into compliance and promoting financial benefits of DEI & ESG. In other words, if you are not for sale, they discredit and stigmatize you in the industry.

Asmongold Clips.
https://youtu.be/Iq86DnmX2xY

“Its not us, its you who’s wrong” Mentality: This mentality is especially annoying as they tend to use it to hide their incompetence. They often look down upon gamers who are not in the industry to hide their obvious lack of knowledge on game development thinking that their job title grants them special status that they believe gives them the right to be condescending. But the truth they never wanted revealed has already strangled their careers of all credibility. They were never GAMERS, they were INVADERS. Community Colonists that seek to indoctrinate next generational gamers into their hive-mind and brand previous generations of gamers as villains.

@GeeksandGamers
https://youtu.be/1HbrTkqQFuM

Double-standard Enforcement: By labeling something as “unrealistic” or “hypersexualized”, they can claim this is morally wrong if it promotes traditional dynamics between men and women. Heterosexual relationships are condemned while at the same time Same-sex relationships are praised. Additionally, heterosexual relationships with main white male characters turn antagonistic and spotlight stealing. This is deliberate as to promote the “Girl Boss” ideology to indoctrinate women into the Feminazi state of mind. While at the same time, should a male character also adopt the “I don’t need male/female” ideology its seen as Toxic Masculinity which isn’t even a real thing. The idea of a strong male character is taboo while enforcing strong female characters is the ideal.

@MugenLord
https://youtu.be/to5Uciy_yeg
@EndymionTv
https://youtu.be/7TPTR8-qmbk

Dehumanization/Demonization: This is something that most military branches use in order to remove conscious inhibitions such as mass slaughter is wrong or categorization. By enforcing ideologies to denounce humanity in certain targets, it deactivates your conscience by saying this is not human therefore its ethically okay to treat this target without compassion and deny the fact it has sentience. We gamers fall under this category for journalists, developers, companies and society at large. This is a tactic we are familiar with to an extent as it implies that we are not normal when we do not do what everybody else is doing. “Geeks are the worse” or “Nerds need to fall into a pit of lava” are verbal dehumanization forms that most people in society say and we as Gamers tend to be relegated to those categories. This is their way of imposing the social hierarchy on us by establishing superiority. We know this as Gamers as we see it very often in the games that we play and some times experience it in real life.

https://rationalwiki.org/wiki/Gamergate#The_end_of_their_relevance

Deflection/Projection: This is basic psychology 101. By redirecting the conversation away from their mistakes and back on to the opposing view to avert blame and justify their innocence they can avoid criticism. However; deflection is a CONSCIOUS decision, meaning they have no real argument to justify their incompetence. If you can consciously process the situation, you have self-agency which means you don’t have a legitimate excuse. Projection is something else entirely. Most times, Projection doesn’t work on conscious decisions rather it is automatically deployed when feeling threatened, anxious or both. Instead of accepting accountability for feelings or actions that are deemed socially unacceptable they accuse others of committing that unacceptable behavior thereby exonerating themselves and proving that those feelings and/or actions are not their own.

submitted by Wild_Cellist9861 to United_Gamer_Front [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 20:09 BainshieWrites [NoP Fanfic] Of Mangos and Murder: Chapter 2

[Prev] [Next]
u/spacepaladin15 's universe.
Memory transcription subject: Estala, Junior Exterminator, ‘Little Yortu’ Colony Cleanup Division
Date [standardized human time]: July 27th, 2125
Everything hurt.
There was dirt and dust between each of my feathers and every single muscle ached and screamed in protest. I wanted to pluck every feather off of my skin and soak forever in warm water until I stopped feeling this way.
Sadly, I didn't have time for that since I, along with the 4 other junior Exterminators of my squad, stood to attention as our commander stared each of us down as he walked among us with his pristine feathers and dirt free uniform. A stark difference to the 5 of us who had actually done the work.
“Very good job squad. Sector UG-4 is now considered cleansed of all predatory taint. We have done a good job today!”
We? That was a very strong word to use, as Officer Parsim had done nothing but sit and ‘direct’ us instead of actually aiding us like he should have according to regulations. Of course, giving the idiot a flamer to use would probably end with him setting himself on fire, so perhaps it was for the best.
“Yes sir, although it would have gone faster had you completely filled the flamer canisters before we left, and-”
“Junior Exterminator Estala! As always, I did not ask for your opinion or commentary.”
I could see Parsim’s feathers bristling with anger as I spoke up. Neither of us liked the other, both for the same reason. Parsim was incompetent. The most incompetent person I had ever met. I could never understand how someone as incompetent and lazy as this Krakotl had managed to become even a standard officer, let alone in charge of a squad of Junior Exterminators. If there was a task required to be completed, the officer would fail to do so, and if they did do anything, they did it with a complete lack of preparation or adherence to even the simplest of regulations.
“Also sir, having only 5 people accomplishing the task instead of six, results in the lack of a rear guard. This is counter to the suggested den clearing process defined in appendix PTY-61, which-”
“I said I did not ask! Since you are always so knowledgeable about what should be done, you can use that experience as a Junior Exterminator and show ‘leadership’ by taking tonight’s guard duty.”
Parsim didn’t like me because I would continually point out his incompetence, not that I planned on stopping. Originally I had assumed the seasoned officer had his reasons for these mistakes, that experience would show some avenue for Extermination I didn’t foresee.
However, it had been six months. Six months of blatant incompetence. I couldn’t hold my beak for that long, every bird has her limit. Every rule he broke, every time he failed, it put people’s lives in danger. No matter how many admonishments or punishments he doled out, I at least had to try before something bad happened. Not that the officer looked like he was going to change, at least before my last few months here on the colony were up.
“Yes sir.”
I stated these words with as little annoyance as possible, deciding not to push the issue further. Fighting for this idiot to actually become competent was something for another day, for now I wanted rest. Rest of the predators and their piercing eyes, blood soaked claws and large rows of grinning teeth.
“Good. Dismissed, get cleaned up.”
The five of us filtered towards the temporary barracks, wings and bodies aching as the day's events took their toll on us. Crawling through dirt tunnels, tracking down dens, and eradicating them was a strenuous task, only slightly washed away with warm water and a new uniform. I eventually made my way back to my room and crawled onto my perch. I wanted to sleep, but the upcoming guard duty made that impossible, giving me half an hour to rest instead.
“I don’t get why you keep antagonizing him, Estala. He’s not going to change and you’re just going to get his ire.”
Talsim entered the rooms, a concerned look in his eyes as my bunkmate and fellow Junior Exterminator took his own perch next to mine. Somehow, after a whole day of crawling through predator infested tunnels, he still managed to look fabulous after a shower and basic preen.
“Because he’s going to get someone killed,” I responded. “Even today, I noticed he was constantly staying as far away from the predators as possible. If anything went wrong… I don’t understand how he’s even an Exterminator.”
“Dad says a lot of people join just for the prestige, then freak out whenever an actual predator appears.”
Talsim was the complete opposite to Parsim, smart, capable, with family ties to the Exterminators. A bright spot in the otherwise rather depressing past few months. The planet was infested with mammalian predators, larger than a Krakotl, teeth a doorway to their cruelty, eyes glowing yellow in the dark.
I had indeed gained more experience with predators than I could ever want on this planet, and seen the results of their evils inflicted upon my fellow Exterminators as we cleared out this new colony for the Krakotl people.
Frankly, I was looking forward to being back on Nishtal.
The two of us sat in silence as we both tried to get our energy back from the gruelling day’s tasks, as the minutes continued to tick by. Talsim continually fidgeted and glanced around, as if he had something on his mind as I sat there trying not to fall asleep.
“Estala…” He said, finally hitting the courage to break the silence. “I… I really don’t like clearing out the dens. The way they… I know they’re predators but…”
I knew exactly what Talsim was talking about. I didn’t like doing them either.’ Not because of the danger, but because of the aftermath. The smell of burning fur flesh, the sounds they made while fire consumed their predatory taint, the helplessness of the predator pups.
No, I knew exactly what Talsim meant. But it had to be done, for the safety of the herd.
“I think… I think everyone thinks that way, Talsim. That’s what makes us prey: our empathy. Even though we know it has to be done, we know it’s not noble work. But it is necessary. I just think that most Exterminators prefer to avoid talking about it, because we know how many lives we’re saving by removing the predators.”
“Not everyone. Quala seems to be very happy.”
I gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of the other Junior Exterminator. She always seemed to take full glee at the destruction of predator dens, eyes alight with joy as fire rained down upon her predatory enemies.
“There is something wrong with her. It might not be predator disease but… something.”
“I dunno, it just feels like everyone else knows what they’re doing. You with your rules, Quala taking down predator dens, and so on. I know my dad wanted me to get into the family business, but I’m not sure if I’m cut out for this.”
I couldn’t help but feel a level of despair at such words coming out of the beak of Talsim. The Krakotl had become my best friend over these last six months, funny, kind-hearted, and actually competent. The thought of him leaving the Exterminators, not thinking he was good enough…
“Nonsense! You are brave and do the right thing when you need to. There’s nobody else I’d rather have protecting my back against the predators. You’re already a better exterminator than Parsim.”
“A pile of rocks with a flamer draped on top would be a better Exterminator…”
We both laughed at that, the tension in the room evaporating as we both commiserated over the incompetence of the Exterminator Officer in charge of our squad.
“See, if he can make it, you definitely can. Remember: we’ll be full officers with colony expedition experience once we’re done here, not juniors any more! I’ll transfer to your department, we can work side by side, rise in the ranks, and keep Nishtal safe together.”
“Yeah, that does sound nice.”
“Estala and Talsim, Exterminating duo extreme! The Arxur won’t know what hit them!”
—----------------------
Memory transcription subject: Estala, Human Methods Advisor to the Exterminators.
Date [standardized human time]: March 6th, 2137
How did people do this? Seriously, what did normal people do in their free time? Joseph was out doing something predatory with his cats, leaving me alone in the apartment to chill out. I was sad, comfortable on my perch, a large fluffy blanket wrapped around my body as I cradled a cup of warm mango tea in my hands. I was supposed to be relaxing and letting my body heal…
So why couldn’t I relax?
Scrolling Bleat and the endless discussion about the war and predators didn’t keep me calm and there was only so much daytime TV one bird could watch. Going outside was out of the question as I’d inevitably see something that needed fixing, ending with me doing work again. So I tried to relax in silence, the curtains drawn across the window creating a nice darkness to calm down in as I tried to slow my breathing. It didn’t work, I wanted to be out there, doing good in the world, anything other than sitting here.
It wasn’t always like this, what did you do on your time off?
Well there was the Krakotl reality TV show “Wings of Love”, which was a guilty pleasure of mine. I was a fan of the Diva Scene in southern Nishtal. Occasionally I’d follow speed flying, especially since the local Skalga athletes generally did very well on the galactic level due to the increased gravity here.
Oh, I’m seeing the problem. None of those things exist any more, Nishtal is gone.
Work had been a perfect distraction from the whirlwind of painful changes over the last 6 months of my life. Nishtal was no more, every single algae bar or Diva stand I’d ever visited was destroyed, every single person I knew was probably dead. While I hadn’t been there for nearly three years, it was still… home. I wasn’t close with anyone on Nishtal any more, but there were still good people I knew…. had known there.
Even the Extermination Fleet had contained Exterminators I considered good people, lied to by the Federation and tricked into committing a horrible crime. Heck, if I was being honest with myself, I would have been just one more name on those ships if I hadn’t been stationed on Skalga when all this began.
It’s kinda ironic that Kalsim managed to kill far more Krakotl than humans with his actions… the bastard.
Then there were the other thoughts that constantly bombarded my mind. The omnivore reveal, the amount of murders I’d let happen under my watch, the revelations about the PD facilities, the ecological damage I’d caused on every planet I’d been stationed on…
Nope nope nope nope. Let’s stop thinking about this. Distract myself with anything, anything at all.
I opened my work email, using work once again as a distracting refuge, only to see an actually important email that required my response.
Re: Dawncreek Exterminators reform and restructure.

My dearest Estala. I have read your proposal for the reopening of the extermination offices of this district and the reimplementation of their funding. I will admit that your restructuring proposals were fairly radical for someone who is still an advocate of the exterminators.
However, after careful consideration of the impact of the organization, I fear that I must decline the proposal. I have come to the conclusion that, for the well-being of the citizenry, you and all others wishing for its reimplementation should commence a regime of self fornication as my district shall be better as strangers to the institution of extermination.
I thank you for your time,
High Magister Rolem of Dawn Creek

By Inatala’s talons… Magistrate Rolem was an interesting case. While most Exterminator CO’s and Magistrates were resistant to the changes I was trying to implement due to a fear or hatred of the ‘predatory’ humans they represented, Rolem was the complete opposite: He was so pro-human that the Venlil was trying to eradicate the Exterminators of Dawncreek, instead merging their duties with the police force.
Unprofessional insults aside, I didn’t blame him too much considering what had happened at Dawn Creek. I wasn’t completely against the idea of copying the humans in that regard, if it wasn’t for the simple issue: It wasn’t working. While in the short term the district was better off without the shambolic incompetent idiots who used to ‘protect’ the area, the long term solution wasn’t trusting their safety with police officers who could hardly look a human in the eyes without fainting.

Dear idiot face.
Can you spehing actually read the email I sent. It’s not working. I’m getting the surrounding districts to cover for you before someone notices and tries to recall your seat, but I can only do that for so long you feather chewing idiotic-

I paused, taking a deep sigh before deleting that text and rewriting the email to something I could actually send.

Dear Rolem.
I understand your hesitance to rebuild the Dawn Creek Exterminators, and while I’m not against the idea of your plan in theory, the issue is the current police force joined their roles without expecting such ‘predatory’ work to be within their job description.
As you can see in the data I sent (Please see previous email), a significant number of calls to the police force are being refused and not dealt with, especially surrounding the categories of violent crime (Or what was previously classified as Predator Disease), interacting with humans, and predator sightings.
The Exterminators who joined this job did so because they wanted to protect the herd from such problems, unlike the police who originally joined to aid us all in different ways. I’m currently instructing the four surrounding districts to aid in these excess calls during this transition period, but this is not a long term solution.
If you would like to discuss this proposal further, please do not hesitate to email or call me.
Prestige Exterminator Estala, Human Methods Advisor, Dayside City Head Office.

With the more professional email sent, I once again found myself in the dark with nothing to do. I browsed my emails idly for a few moments, scrolling Bleat through the normal barrage of hate mail I got from both pro and anti-human Venlil, before finding myself back at a familiar website, one that had changed so much of my outlook.
FederationColdCases.human.fed.vp
A human created site, dedicated to parsing through “Predator Attacks” and working out which ones were actually murders, which ones I had failed my duties on. There were a lot of murders originally classified as predator attacks. That realisation had broken me. Prey murdered prey as if they were predators, meaning there were no prey or predators in the galaxy, only people.
They also tended to dump every password they could find on Venlil systems, Exterminators included. There had been a back and forth between me and the predators on this site, one that I was frankly losing, especially based on the new post added to the site.

New Thread: Estala’s new password.
“BzB&G_6?wC{k4oqq,je%.uO;T`uznif6;<(8~B”
Hi Estala! I know you’re reading this as you keep resetting your password.
So Estala’s password creation skills have increased since we started doing this. For a quick refresher on all the things that have changed.
Stopped using Inatala as a base.
Stopped using Protector, Exterminator, Predator, Prey, Mango, or any dictionary word as a base.
Stop using passwords containing simple numbers (1234, 1254, her birthday, etc etc)
Stopped using passwords of length lower than 15
Stopped using the same password for her email as her Exterminator account.
Stopped falling for Phishing attacks claiming to provide “Free mangos for Exterminator logins”.
Turned off autologin.
Turned off fast checkin mode.
Now, I ‘could’ just login using the head exterminator for Skalga’s login (Password is STILL “Protector134”), and use that to reset Estala’s password and gain access, but that feels like cheating.
Instead I found a remote code execution exploit using a faulty heartbeat command, allowing for the password to be returned. It should be noted yet again that the section of the Exterminators database containing Exterminator personal information is not susceptible to this attack, showing that the UN did a bunch of hardening there (As well as Venlil banking systems, etc etc)
The attack works by finding the central node to the district you’re attempting to attack, this can be done by using….

I felt my brain start to leak out of my ears as the technical jargon on the screen in front of me caused my vision to swim. The humans took it as a game to continually break into my secure system, taking joy every time I failed to stop them. I had evidently hit the limit of my expertise…
Memo to self: Hire a human to harden the Exterminators systems. And change my password. Again.
I gave a sigh as I continued to browse the site, looking for anything to distract myself with, until I found something I hadn’t seen in a while.
The Heartbreak killer. The first case I’d been shown proving that prey killed prey, a series of predator attacks that had turned out to be something the humans called “a serial killer”. Right at the bottom of the thread filled with theories and evidence gathering, including one annoying comment suggesting that I was the killer, was a single message left a few hours ago.
“What happened to this case, did we get any news?”
We hadn’t. The killer had killed three people, then hadn’t struck again; no leads, no more evidence, no new possible information. A thought started to creep into my mind: I had some spare time, I had the resources and newfound knowledge about human investigative skills, and there was nothing stopping me from giving this case a solid deep dive to see what I could uncover. Technically, it wouldn’t even be official Exterminator work, meaning it was fine, and I wasn’t breaking my promise to my best friend!
Joseph had told me to find a human hobby. Technically, human hobbies included solving cold cases…
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submitted by BainshieWrites to HFY [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 20:02 Most_Fuel8081 A serious question about pronouns

Recently I’ve seen a lot of tech and gaming companies start adding pronouns beside the name on their applications, videos etc. I just want to learn why the format of the “label” is something like “he/him”. Why not just “he” or “him”?
I mean, is there any human who would prefer a combination of, for example, “he/her”?

submitted by Most_Fuel8081 to EnglishLearning [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 19:50 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 3)

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

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2024.05.15 19:36 micktalian The Gardens of Deathworlders (Part 72)

Part 72 Gene mods (Part 1) (Part 71)
[Support me on Ko-fi so I can get some character commissions done and totally not buy more Gundams]
“Alright, calm down. It's really not that serious.” Though the holographic representation of War Chief Neshkaname, complete with ocean blue eyes and linear facial tattoos on his tan face, looked quite noticeably tired, his overall demeanor seemed fairly positive. “I just got out of a meeting with representatives from the different protesting groups and all of them agree with the general idea of what we're trying to do with our united defense fleet. There's just quite a bit of disagreement about how our Confederacy should approach the questions related to Earth, Mars, and everyone in Sol.”
“What kind of questions are we talking about here?” General Robert Andrews, the now former General of the US Army, was the first to speak up amongst the crowd of military leaders. “Nothing about invading Earth, I hope.”
“Well…” Though Rob was only half serious about his comment concerning Earth, the way the commanding officer of the Nishnabe Militia’s Blue Fleet began his response put a genuinely concerned expression on a few faces from Sol. “It's only a small percent of our population who are calling for war to reclaim land. A few million people at most, none of whom hold any positions of leadership in our military. Luckily, there are far more people calling for boycotts, embargoes, or blockades as opposed to anything direct.”
“War Chief, to many governments on Earth, an embargo, and especially a blockade, would be considered akin to a direct declaration of war.” General Renee Descartes, the former Chief of Defense Staff of France and Second in Command of the European Union's Unified Military, despite the dark bags under her eyes implying she hadn't gotten anywhere near enough sleep before this meeting, retained her rather elegant poise when adding that bit of necessary context. “You see, the economy of Earth is highly reliant on importing raw materials from space. With the climate being as delicate as it is, no one is willing to risk the kinds of planetside resource harvesting necessary to keep the thirteen billion people in the Earth’s Sphere of Influence employed, fed, and happy. More importantly, we are starting to run out of easily accessible mineral deposits in space.”
“Yes, the lunar mines and the near-Earth asteroid colonies still under UN-E control simply aren't producing nearly enough material to meet growing demand.” Admiral Nathaniel Adeoye, who had also given up his position as the Chief of Astral Naval Staff of the African Federation, chimed in with a clearly worried tone in his deep voice. “While I can understand the rage some of your people must feel, especially towards Americans, the many different people of Africa were in no way responsible for the colonization of America. In fact, we were subject to colonialism ourselves.”
“At least y'all still got yahr homelands!” Commandant General Daniel Chasinghorse, the former Commander of the entirety of MarsGov's Void-Marine Corps, didn't mean for his statement directed at Adeoye to sound as vitriolic as it did. However, the idea of him, his Lakota people, and all the displaced Native American Nations who were now mostly living in space or on Mars potentially being included in the Nishnabe’s reasonably negative reaction towards the people of Earth had put him on edge. “Sorry for snappin’ at yah like that, Nate. But the people livin’ on Mars ain't nothin’ done to deserve bein’ restricted by an embargo or blockade. We need all the extra-Solar tech we can get if we're gonna keep our population's health from declining even further. And I’m sure the African Lunar colonies could really use that medical and gravity tech too!”
“Nothing's been decided yet, and most people on Shkegpewen want peace, we just haven't reached a consensus on how that peace will look.” War Chief Msko Pkwenech, the commander of the Nishnabe Militia’s Red Fleet, interjected while making an open gesture with his hands to try to pat down the tension building up in this meeting room. “And if helps at all, we did take quite a few public votes concerning technology sharing for things we consider essential. But Maser probably has quicker access to the results than I would.”
“About ninety percent of respondents voted to immediately authorize and start sending out medical and gravity tech, including a production ship to come out and make things in-system, which is well above the seventy-five percent consensus needed to move forward.” As soon as the Light-born AI holographically representing their consciousness as an androgynous human began to speak in an incredibly soothing tone, the stress levels in the room began to fall. “There are currently a few councils debating the finer details and arranging logistics of what will be sent. However, the specifics of who gets what and when they get it will be negotiated between the respective governments in Sol and the Nishnabe Intergovernmental Council. Our job as the United Human Defense Fleet is not to interfere with diplomacy between nations, just to ensure that diplomacy is handled in a reasonable and non-threatening manner. Now, with that said, the vote to provide essential assistance was just one if a few taken over the last couple weeks. And while that poll was overwhelming and definitive, the ones concerning visas, immigration, galactic trade, and interspecies relations all fell below the consensus threshold for the Confederacy to adopt an official policy. When we say embargoes and blockades, we are purely referring to trade interactions between species, not between humanity and your economic exclusive zone. Once the relevant councils develop updated options for people to vote on, the next vote will be held.”
“An’ how long's all that gonna take?” Commandant Admiral Carol Nez, as the former head of MarsGov’s Astral Intelligence Collective and Councilmember in the Navajo Nation of Mars, was keenly aware of both the pressing urge of many on the red planet to live on a world with a breathable atmosphere and how just long it often took to for Native Nations to build a consensus. “Everaday we got at least a thousand babies born in Martian maternity stations an’ at least thirty percent ‘ave some kinda health issues. The sooner we get y'all's medical tech, the more kids that're gonna grow up to be happy an’ healthy!”
“We are well aware of the negative health implications of trying to raise children in low-gravity.” Msko already had his tablet out and was in the process of sending over the relevant information to his counterparts from Earth and Mars. “Our genetic modification technologies require individualized sequencing but they can be applied before or after birth to correct any serious issues. They can even be used well into adulthood. I got my eye color changed when I became an adult, so we can help anyone who hasn’t already gotten cybernetic replacements for affected body parts. All of our ships still in Sol are actively trying to produce as much of the base materials as they can and are working with doctors from your stations to get everything deployed as quickly as possible.”
“Why don’cha just teach our docs how to do it?” As soon as Carol got the question out, Msko and Nesh shot each other cautious glances before they both looked towards Maser.
“Well, Commandant Admiral Nez…” As soon as the hologram of the AI began to speak, it was clear their words were directed at everyone present from Sol. “To be completely blunt with all of you, we have reason to believe that the moment people from either Mars or Earth got full access to the genetic manipulation technology the Nishnabe utilize, someone would begin conducting experiments to turn humans into living weapons even more dangerous than the cybernetic ones you already produce. The cybernetics sported by many of your civilians would be legally considered military-grade combat modifications, and individuals with those cybernetics would be barred from entering many GCC standard space stations. We know there are doctors within both UN-E and MarsGov already working on projects to modify your species genome to produce what you call super soldiers, which something which is generally highly illegal under GCC laws. In fact, the genetic manipulation done to Sarah and Johnathan McAfree would likely be considered combat adjacent modifications according to GCC standards, and they would also be subject to various limitations due to their enhanced physiology.”
“Hey, now! Spooky an’ ‘er brother ain’t that scary!” Though he had been spending most of this meeting quietly sitting in his corner of the round table and trying to stay out of things he considered to be beyond his expertise, Professor Mikhail T. River felt compelled to say something now that his ex and her brother had been brought up. “Sure, she can bench press me. An’ Johnny can pick up the stove to sweep under it. But that ain't the gnarliest I ever seen! I mean, jus’ look at Comandante Harrison over here!”
/----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
While the members of the United Human Defense Fleet Council were in their meeting and discussing the rumors of Nishnabe protests Sarah had also caught wind of, that was far above her paygrade. Despite a tinge of concern fluttering away in the back of the unusually tall and rather athletically built Scotswoman’s mind, she wasn't worried about the things she had no control over. At the moment, she, her rather short and somewhat pudgy mother, and her colossal but cognitively limited brother were relaxing in the stables of the opulent nature area aboard UHDF DS-1 and spending time with the unicorn-like kaehi'xito that Mik had gifted to them. Though the three gingers were each busy with different things most of the day, Donna and Johnny with their Nishnabemwin and remote job training courses while Sarah performed her role as an intelligence analyst, the small family from Glasgow truly cherished this time they got to spend together. And the fact they were bonding with the closest living creatures in the galaxy to unicorns only made this even better for all of them.
“Hey Sarah! There you are!” As soon as Miakorva's voice called out from the entrance to the stable building, Sarah, her family, and the three unicorn-like creatures turned to see the Qui’ztar approaching them with familiar canine at her side. “And look who I found wandering around the ship! Did you know that Mikhail lets her walk around unsupervised?”
“Hiya Mia!” Being the closest to the entrance, Johnny was the first to greet the lanky and seemingly muscular blue woman before he crouched down low and extended a hand towards the Cane Corso. “An’ Micky lets her roam cuz she's a good girlie. Isn't tha’ righ’, Terry?”
“Terry Good dog!” Terry’s soft but deep whine was translated by her collar while she approached the man with her tail vigorously wagging.
“Terry's a trained station guard dog, Mia.” Sarah added while shooting the Qui’ztar intelligence officer a cheeky wink and coy smile. “It's ‘er job to wander a station, ‘r in this case a ship, an’ be on the lookout for trouble. An’ now that she can talk, she's a perfect workin’ animal. But wha’s up? Were yah lookin’ for me?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, I was. But… uh…” Mia paused for a moment as she watched the massive beast of a dog place her paws on Johnny's shoulders and begin licking the man's face as if he had smothered some kind of invisible but quite tasty treat across his skin. “Isn’t there a concern that Terry may… Well… Hurt someone? Her species are non-sapient apex predators with strong hunting instincts, correct?”
“Tha's why she and most other workin’ dogs ‘re so well trained, love.” Donna replied with a giggle, the adorable display of affection between her son and Mik's dog forcing a massive smile across her freckled and slightly wrinkled face. “There's always a bit o’ risk with dogs, especially the biggins like Terry ‘ere. But if these unicorns aren't freakin’ out cuz o’ ‘er, then we don’ gotta be worried.”
“Kaehi'xito didn’t evolve with canine predators, so they likely don't even recognize her as a potential threat.” As Mia watched the beast of a dog lean more of her weight on to Johnny, she half expected the large and well-built man to fall over from the force. However, much to her surprise, the man stopped his energetic scratching on Terry's sides, wrapped his arms around her waist, and effortlessly lifted the gargantuan animal into the air, all the while it continued to lick his face. “But seeing you carry that creature like a baby would be enough to make almost anyone with caniphobia be cautiously curious about these creatures. And they must not be as heavy as they look if you can pick one up so easily.”
“Oh, Terry’s a thickin! At least fifteen stone!” In a motion that seemed in utter opposition to Johnny's comment, the man half-tossed the Cane Corso into the air so that he could reposition his hands to cradle the massive canine as if she were a literal baby. “But she's still a good lil pupper, ain't yah, Terry?”
“Terry, good baby!” Though Terry hadn't started flailing or showing any obvious signs of discomfort, she suddenly turned her head towards Sarah with a longing look in her golden eyes. “Pack-mother cuddle?”
“Yeah, sure, yah big ol’ lunk.”
Though Mia could believe a man as impressively large as Johnny may not have much difficulty in lifting a hundred kilo canine, she was completely flabbergasted by Sarah's ability to simply pull Terry from Johnny's grasp and continue to hold the animal up without even the slightest indication of strain. Not only had she just gotten confirmation that this creature was just as heavy as she thought, Miakorva was now being faced with the fact that the woman she had been cuddling with a night for quite some time was significantly stronger than she had realized. According to all the interspecies education she had received, which may have been slightly biased by the Qui’ztar professor teaching the courses, her own species had the highest ratio of strength to body mass of any Ascended species. And while she was aware that this woman she had formed a relationship with weighed about the same as she did despite being several centimeters shorter, Mia had yet to witness Sarah's capabilities demonstrated in such a casual manner.
“By the Matriarch, Sarah!” The lanky blue woman couldn't help herself as her bioluminescent freckles lit up at the shocking display of strength. “How are you that strong?!?”
“Gene mods.” Though Sarah didn't hesitate in her answer, she did wince slightly as she did so. “Me muscles’re almost twice as dense as the average human's. Tha's actually somethin’ I had to talk to Maser an’ NAN abou’ the other day. ‘Parently tha’ ain't a thing most species do for some reason. Bu’ I'm pre’y sure we talked abou’ tha’ already.”
“You did mention it but… Well… I didn't realize your people's genetic engineering was that sophisticated. But I guess that does confirm a couple of the rumors I've heard that I was going to ask you about.”
“Wha’ rumors?” Donna blurted out with a bit too defensive of a tone as her eyes fell upon her son who had gone back to brushing his vaguely moose-like unicorn. “An’ who's spreadin’ ‘em?”
“Well…” Mia hesitated for a moment, causing the two Scotswomen to shoot her suspicious looks. “I was assisting with the logistical planning with the Nishnabe in charge of the distribution of medicine to people on Earth and Mars, most of which involved genetic modification serums. And when I asked why there was no plan, or even consideration, of passing on the technology so it could be locally produced, the people I was working with told me there were rumors of… Well… My people would call it Qui'kijarto niko'txo, which would roughly translate to an enhanced soldier project.”
“Yahr people tried to make super soldiers, too?” Sarah asked with a laugh that implied a sense of relief.
“No!” The instant denial caused Sarah to cease her laughter and forced a slight frown on her rather pale and freckled face. “As soon as my people began developing genetic engineering almost thirty thousand years ago, our government and scientific community came together to completely outlaw any attempts to enhance our form in a way that would make us even deadlier in combat. Besides that, even after thirty thousand years of research, we have only recently mastered the ability to stabilize our genetics and guard against speciation due to diverse environmental conditions.”
“Yah really tryin to tell us yahr people never tried to improve themselves?” The older Scotswoman chimed in with a clearly doubtful expression. “No one ever tried to give their kids an advantage in life? Super soldiers experiments ain't the only thing we use gene modding for.”
“Well… No… I don’t believe we ever have.” Mia hadn't really put much thought into it, even when she and Sarah had talked about it before. But now she was starting to realize that an attempt to give a child an advantage in life by increasing their physical capabilities could directly translate to turning that child into an ideal soldier. “As far as I know, very few other species have engaged in that form of genetic modification. And the ones who have tried struggled to produce anything truly successful.”
“Gene mods ain't always successful, Mia.” Johnny didn't bother to look away from the unicorn he was brushing as he made the comment lest he see the sadness that suddenly appeared in his mother's eyes. “Bu’ I learned the other day tha’ Nishnabe gene tech is way better than wha’ we got on Earth. Maybe they'll ‘ave some stuff to teach us after they feel we're trustworthy enough to learn it.”

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