#Cell viability

[newsepick]

Study finds how fever promotes increased activity, mitochondrial dam

Researchers at Vanderbilt University Medical Centre discovered that elevated body temperatures during fevers boost immune cell metabolism and activity but also cause mitochondrial stress, DNA damage, and death in certain T cells. Published in *Science Immunology*, the study highlights how these processes could link chronic inflammation to cancer development. While higher temperatures enhance the immune response to infections, they also risk cell viability, particularly in Th1 cells. The findings suggest that while mild fever can be beneficial, prolonged high temperatures may promote tumorigenesis, providing a clearer understanding of cellular responses to inflammation and temperature changes.

[cowgrlbbop]

[reasonsforhope]

"Engineers at the University of Pennsylvania have made a critical breakthrough that promises better outcomes for pregnancies threatened with pre-eclampsia, a condition that arises due to insufficient blood flow to the placenta, resulting in high maternal blood pressure and restricted blood flow to the fetus.

Pre-eclampsia is one of the leading causes of stillbirths and prematurity worldwide, and it occurs in 3 to 5% of pregnancies. Without a cure, options for these patients only treat symptoms, such as taking blood pressure medication, being on bed rest, or delivering prematurely—regardless of the viability of their baby.

Making a decision to treat pre-eclampsia in any manner can be a moral conundrum, to balance many personal health decisions with long-standing impacts—and for Kelsey Swingle, a doctoral student in the UPenn bioengineering lab, these options are not enough.

In previous research, she conducted a successful proof-of-concept study that examined a library of lipid nanoparticles (LNPs)—which are the delivery molecules that helped get the mRNA of the COVID vaccine into cells—and their ability to reach the placenta in pregnant mice.

In her latest study, published in Nature, Swingle examined 98 different LNPs and their ability to get to the placenta and decrease high blood pressure and increase vasodilation in pre-eclamptic pregnant mice.

Her work shows that the best LNP for the job was one that resulted in more than 100-fold greater mRNA delivery to the placenta in pregnant mice than an FDA-approved LNP formulation.

The drug worked.

“Our LNP was able to deliver an mRNA therapeutic that reduced maternal blood pressure through the end of gestation and improved fetal health and blood circulation in the placenta,” says Swingle.

“Additionally, at birth we saw an increase in litter weight of the pups, which indicates a healthy mom and healthy babies. I am very excited about this work and its current stage because it could offer a real treatment for pre-eclampsia in human patients in the very near future.”

While further developing this cure for pre-eclampsia and getting it to the market for human use is on the horizon for the research team, Swingle had to start from scratch to make this work possible. She first had to lay the groundwork to run experiments using pregnant mice and determine how to induce pre-eclampsia in this animal model, processes that are not as well studied.

But, by laying this groundwork, Swingle’s work has not only identified an avenue for curing pre-eclampsia, it also opens doors for research on LNP-mRNA therapeutics addressing other reproductive health challenges...

As Swingle thinks ahead for next steps in her research, which was funded by the National Institutes of Health and the National Science Foundation, she will also collaborate to further optimize the LNP to deliver the mRNA even more efficiently, as well as understanding the mechanisms of how it gets to the placenta, a question still not fully answered.

They are already in talks about creating a spin-off company and want to work on bringing this LNP-mRNA therapeutic to clinical trials and the market.

Swingle, who is currently finishing up her Ph.D. research, has not only successfully led this new series of studies advancing pre-eclampsia treatment at Penn, she has also inspired other early career researchers in the field as she continues to thrive while bringing women’s health into the spotlight."

-via Good News Network, December 15, 2024

[neha24blog]

Cell Viability Assays Market Segment Analysis By Product, Application, End-User, Region And Forecast Till 2030 : Grand View Research Inc.

San Francisco, 11 July 2023: The Report Cell Viability Assays Market Size, Share & Trends Analysis Report By Product (Consumables, Instruments), By Application (Drug Discovery & Development, Stem Cell Research), By End-user, By Region, And Segment Forecasts, 2023 – 2030 The global cell viability assays market size is expected to reach USD 3.01 billion by 2030, according to a new report by Grand…

[secularprolifeconspectus]

Quick Pro-Life Responses

Keep in mind: the fundamental disagreement between pro-life and pro-choice is on whether a fetus is being formed into a person, or if the fetus is already a person and is simply developing.

Confidently assert, “you say that because you think a fetus is not a person yet.”

They may concede fetuses are people in word, but still not conceptualize them as full people worthy of equal consideration.

“I have the right to bodily autonomy.”

Abortion is literally suffocation, poisoning, or dismemberment of a living human organism.

Abortion induces fetal demise by depriving a human of oxygen, blood, or vital function.

Bodily autonomy does not justify abuse of power and excessive force over a helpless person.

Abortion, a disproportionately brutal response to a passive threat, is aggressive violence.

“No one has the right to use my body.”

Correct. But, a prenatal person does not use a pregnant person’s body. They have no agency.

A pregnant person’s body takes care of the prenate. This care is ordinary and healthy.

Abortion is not like refusing care to a dying person, it is like murdering a healthy captive.

No one has the right to murder someone who they caused to be dependent on them.

“I have the right to revoke my consent.”

When you give consent, you agree to accept the foreseeable outcomes and risks of an action.

The creation of a bodily dependent is a foreseeable outcome of consensual intercourse.

You cannot revoke consent to outcomes. You can revoke consent to actions.

You may not violently sacrifice a helpless person to “mitigate” a risk of a consensual action.

“Anything dependent on my body is a parasite.”

If you make parasites, then you’re a parasite; it’s misogynist to suggest women are parasites.

The female body would not actively try to make pregnancy happen if it were parasitic.

Prenates never directly cause pregnant people harm; they are not aggressors or parasites.

Using developmental dependency to justify murder is simultaneously ageist and ableist.

“An embryo is just a clump of cells.”

Human embryos meet NASA’s criteria for the characteristics of distinct living organisms.

Human embryos are self-directed and their development follows a body plan.

Human embryos are organized and individual. They already have inherited capacities.

Tumors and gametes do not follow an organized body plan.

“Early humans have no cognitive capacities.”

By week 3, the embryo has a spine and is developing a nervous system.

By week 5, the embryo has a rudimentary brain that controls their pulse.

By week 8, the embryo has pain reflexes and can move their limbs.

It’s incredibly ableist to use the cognitive inabilities of a human being to justify their murder.

“If a fetus is a person, so is a brain-dead human.”

A brain-dead human is, obviously, dead. It’s an oxygenated corpse, the remains of a person.

Death occurs when human organisms stop resisting entropy and lose organic integration.

Preborn people actively resist entropy (decay) and have organic integration (unity).

An early human organism isn’t dependent on a mature brain to organize her vital functioning.

“Later abortions only happen for medical reasons.”

According to two studies by pro-abortion researcher at UCSF Katrina Kimport, this is untrue.

Kimport’s studies found that the reasons for later abortions are similar to early abortions.

Later abortions aren’t euthanasia; infants are stabbed with lethal injections and dismembered.

Perinatal hospice and palliative care relieve suffering. Dying babies deserve love, not murder.

“What about rape and incest?”

Abortion is not evidence-based treatment for sexual trauma. Abortion is traumatic as well.

A preborn child should not be condemned to the death penalty for their father’s crime.

It is safe for most menstruating children to carry pregnancies to viability with sufficient prenatal care.

Children conceived in incest are likely to have disabilities; that’s not reason to murder them.

“What about health of the mother?”

Every abortion ban in the US has exceptions for if the mother’s life or body is in grave danger.

We are not against tragic cases of triage. We are against elective induced abortion.

Some procedures coded medically as abortions aren’t legally or ethically defined as abortions.

Pro-life doctors report that the bans have not impeded their ability to treat their patients.

Your Core Arguments

There is no sound evidence or consistent logic that proves the preborn are the only class of human beings exceptional to the rule that humans are people with equal rights.

If a being is in the dynamic process of bonding with us as kin, then that being is a whole actual person by the manner of actively and inherently relating to our collective humanity.

Embryonic humans are full and equal people like us because they latently embody our same capacities and are manifesting them as we are, on account of sharing our nature.

[sitepathos]

Wow, I loved chapter 11! Would be funny if batfam discovered a cure for cancer trying to figure out how to deal with the mold, was just a thought that stuck in my head when I read the description 'benign tumor'. Would also be a good way for batfam to start dealing with the PR nightmare this is turning into. Has Bruce been trying to fuck over Lex? Also was wondering if maybe Gould made any bonds in the four years back home? Is there any jealousy rising in batfam from a brotherly or fatherly bond they discover, or has he mostly been keeping to himself? Either way, I'm excited to see what's coming up with this next confrontation, hope the inspiration narwhal visits you!

Yeah, I can see them using their discoveries to change public opinion about them.

Now, they know the Megamycete is similar to a benign cancer that eradicates native cells and replaces them with unstable mold versions, but since they only have the one sample of your blood (and it’s kinda lost all viability due to the batter of tests its been subjected to), they’re still far from discovering any usable weapon to attack the Megamycete at the cellular level.

While their tests have yielded nothing to combat the mold, their failures have led to the discovery of a treatment that’s highly effective against actual cancers, tumors, and viral infections. Bruce had the data forwarded to Wayne Pharmaceuticals to begin development of new medicines based off their work, leading to several new drugs being developed that promise to either treat several incurable diseases and illnesses or eliminate them altogether.

It definitely makes people see Bruce Wayne more favorable, but not enough to reverse all the bad publicity done to his company. He’s also made several attempts to get back at Lex for his actions at the gala, both as CEO of Wayne Enterprises by showing him up in business and as Batman by exposing his less-than-legal activities.

He’s actually very grateful to you (despite the fact you’re infected by some sentient mushroom) since it’s helped complete many projects the pharmaceutical division has been working on for years, which will help countless people in the long run.

But make no mistake, he fully intends to find a way to purge the Megamycete from your body. He says it’s because it’s dangerous and that it’s making you act out, but it’s because it gives you the power to oppose him and fight back when he tries to bring you back to Gotham. Let’s be honest, Bruce Wayne is a massive control freak and is used to being the one in total control of every situation and the smartest person in the room and he can’t stand it when he doesn’t have something under control.

Thanks to the Megamycete, you’re not only stronger than him, but smarter, too.

This is a huge no-no and he’ll stop at nothing to correct the situation, under the guise of “helping” you and “bring you back home.”

As for the second part of your ask, I’ve had several people ask about the reader dating/marrying people and making friends; I’ve even made a post about Eveline from Resident Evil 7 being your adoptive daughter, but I don’t have any plans on making a canon family and friends for the reader in the series.

Believe me, you want a family and friends. You’d love to find a man who will give you the love you were denied for so long and maybe even adopt a child (although several people asking about kids has made me think you’d be capable of carrying biological children since you can alter your body due to the Megamycete), but after all that you endured at Wayne Manor, you think you have too much emotional baggage to properly care for a family (not to mention the whole Megamycete situation) and you’re just subject your potential family and friends to the same treatment you were given for most of your life.

Right now, you’re working on yourself. You moved back to Goodsprings immediately after graduating and turned your childhood home into a home you’re really proud of and now with the ulcers of Salvage Rights, you’re seeing a small fortune building before your eyes (of course, you still have most of the money you got from Lex for seeking WE secrets).

Of course, Bruce and his children had to show up out of nowhere and reset all the progress you made in the last four years and making people stare at you every time you walk into a room and whisper about you when they think you can’t hear them.

So, any plans you had on making a family and finding friends are on hold for right now. You just have to take care for your little bat problem.

But, let’s say you did have a family and friends. That not long after you moved to Goodsprings, you made a few friends either in town or in the surrounding area, which eventually lead to you finding a boyfriend and after two years of dating, you got married (Alfred attended, he wouldn’t miss it for the world).

Now, he didn’t tell them about the wedding at the time, but after the four year mark of you leaving Gotham, he reminded them that you exist and dropped the bombshell that you’re married.

This leads to every one of them going berserk.

You’re married?! And they weren’t invited to the wedding?!

They immediately dislike your husband, Bruce especially since he has the insane belief that as your father, any man should ask for his blessing to date/marry you (of course he’d turn down any request before it even leaves the man’s mouth).

“There’s no man in this world that’s good enough for you, Y/N. Besides, you only need me and your brothers.”

Damian is in the same boat as he believes very few are worthy enough of joining the Wayne legacy.

“Our bloodline is a sacred one, brother, and we must be selective of who is a part of it. If you insist on finding a mate, I’m sure Father would be capable of finding one for you. But you needn’t worry over that, I’m more than capable of continuing the family in his stead.”

Dick would lose his shit if he hears that you have a husband.

“He just proposes to you? Without asking to meet your family? That’s very suspicious, baby bird! He clearly wants to take you away from us!”

Jason would be silent during the entire ordeal, but he’d stand there, glaring at you poor husband and showing off the gun he has on his hip, filled with real bullets.

Tim’s immediately researching the shit out of this guy, going back to his birth and will use anything and everything he finds to convince you that he’s unfit for you and you should divorce him.

“He got a speeding ticket when he was 16, Y/N! He clearly lives on the edge and doesn’t care about respecting the law! …Why are you staring at me like that for?”

Steph is actually kinda proud of you for causing this kind of chaos in the family. She’s always pulling stunts that cause Bruce’s hair to turn grey and loves messing with everyone, but what you’ve done is nothing short of astounding in her eyes. Of course, she’s just as opposed to the marriage as the others and wants you to divorce your husband and move back home at once.

“Y/N, if you wanted to drive Bruce into an early grave, you could’ve just done what I did and wreck the Batmobile. Hey, we can do that when we get back home!”

Cass actually understands the desire to find love and create a family; thanks to Bruce, she knows what a family is (a lesson you were never taught) and wishes she could find someone to spend her life with. But thanks to her upbringing and her vigilante lifestyle, she knows that’s a pipe dream. Besides, Bruce and her siblings are more than enough.

However, that doesn’t mean she supports the marriage; in fact, she opposes it and believes you must divorce your husband and come home right away. People can’t be trusted and the world is too dangerous. You need to come home where they can protect you.

And god help you if you say your new friends are more like your siblings than them.

As expected, Damian doesn’t take the news well and accuses them of trying to take his place as your true brother (this delusional bastard really believes that after everything, the two of you can really be brothers).

But I think Dick would take the news worse than him; he takes his role as the elder brother of the Wayne children seriously and he doesn’t like the thought of you seeing someone other than him as your big brother. He’d probably cry and beg you to take it back, say you were just lying to hurt him, anything! Just say you don’t see anyone as a big brother!

Lastly, if you have any children, be it through adoption or biological, they immediately stake a claim on them and try to bring them into the family.

That just leaves you, fighting these delusional freaks tooth and nail to keep your friends and family safe. If your husband is a meta, he’ll try to join in, but you insist on dealing with them yourself. You know they’ll use any dirty trick they can find against your husband and you’d rather not put him in any more danger than you have already.

Plus, if anyone has the right to kill them, it’s you. After all they put you through, you’re determined to be the one that finally puts an end to the Bats.

[goblinhoursinsomniaramblings]

me last week: jesus i am bad at the task i have set out to do. what am i thinking, trying to write mpreg of the type i like. i'm just not good enough to pull this off so other people would like it--

me today: *jams out an entire part 1 in one evening after five drafts just out of queer spite and self-indulgence* be queer do thoughtcrimes

Part 1 of the Clone Gestation AU. expect other parts to have more characters, plots and dialogue, but I need the setup out or I'll feel weird about the other completely self-indulgent scenes percolating in my head.

Also: do not go into this expecting real science, you're getting comic book science at most.

In Vlad’s defense, the theory had been sound.

Every ghost had a… he had heard many terms, but in his research he had gone with ‘ectonucleus’ rather than the more colloquial ‘core’. Even his Plasmius form was no different, a shell of ectoplasm projected from an organ simple enough to barely count as such. Vlad’s human mind drove it, but many ghosts lacked a living brain to truly take advantage of their power. One of the many reasons he kept pulling off so many of his schemes plans in full. Ghosts seemed to be all emotion and obsession, no thought or patience.

The ectonucleus had many ectobiological functions. It processed ectoplasm, functioned as a rudimentary nervous system in response to stimuli, and most importantly for his current project, it stored what passed for genetic information–except instead of copying it into trillions of individually specialized cells, it took the information as a whole and shaped raw ectoplasm around it. Ghosts could even use it reproductively, something Vlad had decided to skip past with the cloning.

Though, admittedly, some of the early readings on the control subject’s cohesion had been… worrying. Which shouldn’t have been possible. The cloning tank was full of ectoplasm that had been subjected to so many layers of filtration he could legitimately label it as surgical-grade. There shouldn’t have been a problem making a stable filtration barrier between the ectonucleus and the surrounding ectoplasm.

He hissed as he felt a painful lurching from his ghost half, leaning against the occupied cloning tank with one arm. This had been occurring with regularity since he had first seen the decline in the results, and it really was not helping him solve the problem! His Plasmius side, as powerful as it made him, was maddeningly psychoreactive–it wasn’t the first time it had thrown one of these tantrums, and if it kept this up he would dig out those schematics for–

He felt it, before he saw it. A probe of something too aimless and unformed to be curiosity. He looked up to see the little ectonucleus up against the wall of the tank, barely outlined by a little firefly glow, as though it could tell he was there.

It couldn’t, obviously. It was only reacting in response to stimuli, extending feelers of presence, for lack of a better term, to decide if the way ahead was safe. There was no way it could fumble blindly to him unless–

A somewhat less painful lurch in his chest answered his thought. Ah. Of course. Ghost ‘biology’ strikes again.

No. He knew what this was now, absolutely not. He was already too emotionally invested in the outcome of this project, and the control subject was already showing signs of eventual non-viability–

And the smaller proto-presence flickered away. He felt a jolt as he tried to figure out what happened, but his eyes soon caught the faint glimmer of the cloned ectonucleus, on the far side of the tank.

Alright. This was… ideal. It was better to keep some distance while the process was still unstable.

And if his ghost half was unhappy about it, it would be so much worse if he let himself get too attached close.

***

Years later, when Vlad discovers what, exactly, ghosts are powered by, he will think back on this and laugh for far, far too long.

***

The ectonucleus doesn’t seem to notice him if he’s far enough away, even when Plasmius tries to signal it. Still, inevitably he will brush by the tank, or work near to it, taking readings on the purity of the medical ectoplasm or checking the integrity of the tank, and when he looks up–

“Again? Really?!”

The little proto-ghost seems to press itself against the tank at the sound of his voice. He knows it is just responding because it isn’t exposed constantly to his voice, making him new, worth investigation. But Plasmius seemed to respond like it was cute, and oh, he had no idea his ghost half had that particular set of feelings.

(‘Sublimation’ would become a very familiar word to him one day.)

He could reinforce the tank. Make it impossible for the unformed, barely-there clone to notice him. Maybe, in another life, he does exactly that.

Instead, he heaves a sigh, and decides he will simply have to make his voice less novel. Didn’t he hear somewhere, once, that speaking to still-forming humans was necessary for development? The ectonucleus had yet to project a human body, but it was a clone of a halfa, so perhaps–

He would have to keep an eye on the medical readings to see if this was pop science (pointless, in other words) or was worth doing, but… how badly could he compromise himself, talking to something with all the personality of an amoeba?

***

“... and that is why I even bothered to show up! Honestly, Jack should count his lucky stars he’s worth more to me alive than dead right now!”

The proto-clone glimmered at the steady flow of Vlad’s voice. It truly didn’t seem to matter what he spoke of, it just… wanted to be near his voice. Even when Plasmius didn’t overtly signal it.

It was heartwarming distressing how much he loved her already for that craved even that level of attention. How lonely he felt every time he visited Jack and Maddie, and came back with nothing to show for it but more envy fury over what he never had the chance to have.

Originally, the plan had been to introduce a combination of subliminal training, organic nutrients, and a rapid growth solution to the tank to get the clone close to Daniel’s age and development. But…

“Jack kept blathering on about old stories of Jasmine and Daniel. Showed me pictures. Showed me baby pictures.”

He had realized just how much he would be skipping. How much he would still feel had been taken from him.

He had quietly struck that stage from the planning before sitting with the tank for the proto-clone’s regular enrichment session. Not only would it have made him thoroughly depressed angry to falsify an entire childhood for the clone he wouldn’t actually get to experience… he had the feeling doing the full accelerated growth regimen would have irreversibly worsened the cohesion damage.

It hadn’t exactly improved, but regular stimulation had greatly lessened the rate of damage over time. The problem came down to the filtration barrier. It was the equivalent to a cell wall, and ghosts usually had a much stronger one around their ectonuclei than his the control subject was capable of forming.

He hunched forward a little when Plasmius again made his chest lurch unpleasantly, hand rising unbidden to his sternum. Oh yes, he was fully aware of his ghost half’s input on the subject. Instincts were a powerful driving force.

When a ghost reproduced, there was a stage where the unformed proto-ghost would parasitize the parent’s core, and siphon ectoplasm to produce a stable filtration barrier. From there, they could generally be removed and placed somewhere safe so the parent could get back to their usual life as it finished developing, filtering the ambient atmosphere of the ghost zone until it had enough power to project a body. Even into maturation, a ghost could generally fend off destabilization by placing their essence into something, or even someone, formed of ectoplasm until they could reform on their own, a reflex honed at that very early stage.

Vlad was beginning to believe his instincts were responding to a ghost too underdeveloped to form its own barrier. Something it might only be able to learn by example.

Vlad leaned his head back against the tank. He had not wanted this step to even be on the table. The control subject was still damaged, with no guarantee he could reverse it. He had sworn to himself he wouldn’t get attached without a guarantee of viability and this…

He let himself finally address it. This may not have been the same as the human equivalent, but it was so close it was impossible not to draw a parallel. It was essentially a ghost pregnancy, and the intensity of his ghost self’s psychoreactive nature practically guaranteed he would be thoroughly attached to this adorable awful little amoeba.

Perhaps he could do this in stages. Yes. Just a little at a time, until it could form its own barrier. Then, back in the tank.

“You are entirely too demanding. This is how children end up spoiled rotten, you know,” he scolded the single-celled nuisance.

It had the nerve to just glitter back at him. Such an attitude already.

He wondered if it was too late to go back to that tank-insulation plan.

It absolutely was.

***

He changed into Plasmius for the extraction. It seemed more conducive to holding something crafted purely from ectoplasm. He had barely placed his hand in the tank when the ephemeral little thing swam to him, settling in his palm snugly. He went intangible, and it hesitantly sank into his hand, then poked around, gradually finding its way to his own ectonucleus.

The effect was nearly instantaneous. A strand of pink energy wound around the little proto-ghost, and it let itself be cradled as the energy gently wove around it, flashes of light from within signaling a repeating cycle of weave, dispel, weave. Teaching it the ghost equivalent to homeostasis.

Now, however, came the real test. He transformed back to human…

And he still felt the new dimension to his so-called ‘core’, almost equivalent to a heartbeat. It was capable of existing flush with Plasmius, wherever his ghostly side rested when he was human again.

This felt promising. He didn’t exactly trust that.

He was so very tired of broken promises.

***

He still spoke to it. It had become a bonding exercise habit by this point. He would be sending email, or reading, or combing through footage from his many invasive discreet hidden cameras, and find himself talking as though it were listening. He listened back, as well, for the steady pulse of energy in, energy scattered, outlining the gradually strengthening core ectonucleus of his child control subject.

The only step left was to remove it as a ghost would and see if it learned to make a barrier on its own.

***

He may have put off the removal too long.

Those early reports of cohesion damage may have swayed his decision a little more than he wanted to admit. It was just easier… not knowing, until he was certain it could do this very basic thing. He would be staring at the tank, having gone to his lab specifically to see if it could function away from him like it would as a developing ghost and some new variable would come to him.

He should do a full cycling of the medical ectoplasm, just to be sure it’s as clean as possible for reintroduction.

He should make sure he has some emergency supplies on hand for his ghost side, just in case Plasmius fights him on this subconsciously and damages something.

He should go over lab security just in case, check the footage.

Really, it’s been too long since the tanks had a full maintenance cycle.

He had felt his ectonucleus shifting position a little. He needs to wait until it settles for a while.

(He really should have paid attention to where, exactly, his core was traveling to.)

On, and on, just him and the pulse of ectoplasm signaling all was, currently well. Although it did catch his attention that his ghost self seemed to be siphoning off some ectoplasm somewhere, even when he was human, that wasn’t accounted for in the energy transfer of barrier formation. It seemed to be evenly distributed over his entire body, some odd ectoplasmic underpinning to his circulatory system.

Initially, he just wrote it off as some sort of mapping of his human body. After all, the proto-clone was a halfa. It would need some extra education for when it projected a human body. There were some ‘vessels’ that terminated abruptly, but he couldn’t see to what purpose. Maybe it was waiting for something else to be finished, once it got enough of a boost.

He would have plenty of time to get the child control subject back in the tank, given the rate of growth.

***

He hadn’t been expecting a flare-up of his ecto-acne. He certainly wasn’t expecting it to behave extremely differently from every time previously. Truthfully, he only guessed what it was because on examination in the mirror, his eyes were glowing and spots appeared on his face. Itchy, awful, conspicuous spots.

No ectoplasm in them, however. Odd.

Almost like something was siphoning it off before it could–

***

By the time the Fentons helped him confirm his suspicion–and was that ever an awkward encounter–it was far too late to correct course. Well, technically, he could have worked something out. If anyone could have, he could.

‘Would’ was another matter entirely, though. Blame loneliness, a long-thwarted desire for family, age, loneliness, sentimentality, loneliness.

If going from a ghost pregnancy to an actual pregnancy was the price to pay for finally feeling connected to someone?

He had finally gone long enough without to do anything for that feeling. Up to and including planning the murder of anyone stupid brave enough to tell him otherwise.

Though he would have appreciated a warning about the word ‘clone’ no longer applying.

***

@vladdyissues I DID THE FUCKING THING i have no idea if you'll find introspective yet still in denial vlad being tsundere about wanting to be pregnant and getting hopelessly attached to as yet unnamed Dani nearly as appealing as I do but I still thank you for prodding me to do this fucker regardless

-manifesting a complete lack of fucks for the gender binary through a cis male character who would willingly be pregnant to have a kid ain't the usual way but fuck it, that's my coping method right now

[askinkiskarma]

Illicit Affairs | Chapter IV: Evermore

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: You and Neteyam both have to navigate a lot of painful memories on your first day in a new body

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, cursing

Word Count: 6,2k words

A/N: Chapter 4 is the longest chapter I have written so far. There's definitely some fluff in there and some light hearted, beautiful moments, but it's also the darkest chapter I have written so far. There's some heavy stuff in there, so please read with caution! I wanted my characters to be well rounded and for there to be a good reason for every action they take; why the reader is a recluse, why Neteyam behaves the way he does, and why he left. There's layers to their story that will be unveiled through memories from both the main characters, so I hope you stick around to see where I plan to take this story <3 I never expected people to like it so much, and I hope you guys like what I have planned!

"I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone Trying to find the one where I went wrong And I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar That this pain would be for Evermore"

“Am I allowed to be here?” Neteyam says, carefully taking in the new environment that he’s never wondered through before. It was small and dark, his eyes needing a second to adjust to the contrast from the bright neon orbs that illuminated the hallways. His nose scrunched up, trying to assimilate the smell, and realised it just smells like you. 

“Who is going to stop you?” you laugh, and the sounds reverberates through his body and settles deep in his soul. He’s heard this sounds countless times in the 14 years he’s known you. It never ceased to amaze him. 

You take off your Converse shoes and throw them carelessly to the side, jump on the bed and reach for the light on the other side of it, sitting on the bedside table. The lamp turns on and Neteyam finds himself having to adjust to the brightness once more. He settles on the chair that was accompanying a small messy desk, filled with papers, books and electronic tablets that had something you called a graph on it. The words “cell viability” were written on top of it, but Neteyam didn’t know what that meant, so he turned his attention to the many, many books that were displayed on the shelves above the desk. 

He’s seen some of them before, some of them multiple times, as you did seem to have your favourites. He picked one up he recognised. It was called Pride and Prejudice and Neteyam assumed it was written by a person named Jane Austen. He knew you loved this book, but he’s never asked why.

“I love that one…” you started.

“I know” he says in Na’vi. “I just don’t know why.”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you. My mum read me paragraphs from it growing up, and it’s just a book that brings me comfort. I’ve read it so many times, I’ve memorised it, so it’s like a blanket. It makes me feel safe.”

“What is it about?” Neteyam probed further.

You thought about it for a second. 

“It’s a story about two people who come from different worlds, and their journey of understanding each other and overcoming their feelings of, you guessed it, pride and prejudice towards one another and towards each other’s world.”  

He sat with this new information for a while. “So like us?” 

“Mmm, I don’t think it’s like us at all. I think it’s more about my mum and dad, or at least I think my mum thought of her and dad when reading it.”

Your words upset him, he realises in slight surprise. He looks at your figure sprawled over the bed looking up at the ceiling above you in contemplation and feels a pang of hurt as he considers the fact you didn’t think of him when reading a book so close to your heart.

“I have a quote from another book that reminds me of you, though.” Almost as if you read his mind, you turned your head towards him with a smirk and raised an eyebrow.

He didn’t look at you, a small pout erupting from his lips without meaning to. You laugh at him and smile endearingly, softly shaking your head. 

You jump from the bed, slightly wincing when your left leg registers the action, and click your tongue at him so he can move from where he was sat. He obliged and found another spot on the bed, which was now emanating the warmth of your body, and he slowly touched the blanket as if trying to commit the feeling to memory. You climbed on the chair with another small wince and found a book on the uppermost shelf. You jumped from the chair straight on to the bed and fell next to him. 

Patting the spot next to you, you signalled for him to lie down. He did, although his legs were completely off the bed, the tiny contraption barely able to accommodate his torso. You let out a small laugh, but seemed happy to have him so close. 

You placed your head on his chest, and he prayed you couldn’t hear the way his heart felt like it was trying to escape his ribcage at your proximity and warmth. You opened the book and looked for the quote. 

“Ah, there is it.” You cleared your throat, then continued. “He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” 

“Get the fuck out of my room, Neteyam.”

You had just finished washing the day off when you heard a small knock on the door. Still reeling from the fight, it was taking everything out of you to muster up the strength to open that door and deal with whatever was waiting on the other side. With a deep sigh, you did so anyway. It was surprising for you to find Jake peering at you from the other side of the open door, a curious look on his handsome face. 

“Hey kid. We’re going to get going now. I just wanted to talk to you for a second before hand. Can I come in?” 

You hesitated for a second, then moved so he could enter. 

“So..” He started awkwardly. “I don’t really know how to do this.” You saw his left hand reaching behind his head and scratching his scalp with a small laugh. 

His eyes drop to a little package he was holding, wrapped in the same sort of cloth as the other gifts had been. He didn’t look at you as he spoke.

“Your mum gave me this, a couple of weeks before she passed. She asked me to hold on to it and give it to your on your 18th birthday.”

Your breath stopped in your lungs. He peered at you with a sad look and handed you the little box. A small video camera, like the ones used to record the Avatar program video logs was now resting peacefully in between your hands. 

“I hope whatever’s on there will give you some peace of mind, kid. I know life’s not been kind to you, but it’s time… time to move on, you know?” 

He got up from his spot on the bed and silently made his way out of the room. “See you tomorrow?” 

With your back to him, you gave him a nod, and with that, he was gone, closing the door behind him.

You stood like that, in the same position, with the camera in your hand for a long enough time that your left leg was starting to ache, an ache that eventually overtook the one in your soul and with that, you took the camera and the bracelet you removed from Neteyam’s hands and shoved them both in the bottom drawer of your desk. “Pandora’s box.”, you thought to yourself, with a bitter chuckle. 

You woke up with a groan, and the meanest headache known to man. Yesterday felt like you did in fact have the biggest party this world has ever seen, and the hangover to match. You scrambled out of bed, still in the dark, and searched on top of your desk for the little bottle of Ibuprofen you keep for days just like this. Today’s the day…

Norm enters your room quietly, and is surprised to see you up already. “So nervous you couldn’t sleep?” He says with a tentative smile.

“Something like that.” 

“Hey…you’re happy about this, right? Tell me we haven’t done this for almost a decade for no reason, cause you know, we can’t just give someone else the Avatar.” he says, with an uncomfortable chuckle. 

“I’m happy, Norm. It’s just a lot to take in, you know? A lot is going to have to change, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t tend to do well with change.” you response, laughing to yourself.

“Yeah, me and Max worried about that, but, Ace… you have weathered every storm life’s thrown at you like a champ and I think beyond this great unknown lays a future so bright it will be able to make this planet shift on its axis.” 

You throw your head back and laugh loudly, “Wow, that’s a lot of trust right there. I’ll try not to disappoint.” 

If only Norm knew… knew how you have not been able to brave any storm, and how the storms, in time, turned to tornadoes and then hurricanes and then bigger hurricanes and all you’ve done your whole life is just move further in to the middle of the shelter hoping that someday they’ll just go away by themselves and when they do, there’s still some walls, any walls, surrounding you. 

You put some of Grace’s old workout clothes on and made your way to the Avatar room and properly looked at it, probably for the first time in your life. You used to love coming here as a kid, looking at the scientists in their link pods, at your mum in hers, sitting in Max’s lap and watching the brain activity, bombarding him with questions with answers you couldn’t’ possibly comprehend yet. You’ve moved away from that fascination in time. Now here you stood, about to get your own linkpod and your own brain activity analysed. You peered in the room next to it, where on a big flat metal table lay a blue body, and you couldn’t help yourself from moving closer until your breath was so close to the window in was fogging up the glass. You placed a hand on the cold glass and stared at the new you, and a small smile appeared on your face. It was beautiful, more so than you ever thought your human form to be. Your heart picked up pace in your chest and you were shocked at the realisation that the nerves that you thought only reflected fear and anxiety, also reflected excitement. 

“It’s time.” Max said from somewhere behind you.

You turned and made your way with timid steps towards the linkpod. You climbed on it and the feeling of the green malleable foam woke up a memory inside you, that you fought to push back to where it came from. Now’s not the time. It was cold on your arms and thighs as you lay in it, but weirdly comfortable, like what you would imagine water mattresses you saw in old Hollywood movies to feel. 

Max placed a metal frame of sorts on top on your own and spoke slowly. “Okay, you know the drill, Ace. You have to relax and let your mind go blank. You will be disoriented when you wake up, so take your time in there and don’t rush. Please don’t do a Jake.” 

You chuckled at the story you’ve heard one too many times, but never seemed to get tired of it. 

“We will have to run tests to make sure everything is in order. This is new territory for all of us, and we don’t know how the Avatar will behave yet, so we will take our time and do it right.” 

“Aye aye, Captain.”

You did as you were told and found it hard to relax and let your mind go blank when it was running a million miles an hour with so many emotions, so many thoughts and worries. Still, with all your might, you sat there, and cleared your mind for a split second. It was enough. 

You woke up like from a dream, feeling groggy and tired. Your muscles hurt, a lot. You winced slightly at the gentle touch of a hand, which felt like that time you touched the inside of an electrical socket and got slightly electrocuted. You felt clothes clinging to your body and hated the way the synthetic fabric felt against your skin. You took your first breath and your nose crinkled in disgust at the overbearing smell of alcohol and chloride. 

“Ace? C’mon kid, there you go, you can do it.” 

You finally opened your eyes and groaned at the intense light on the ceiling. Your eyes took a while to focus, but when they did, you saw Norm staring back at you with a smile.

“Hi.” you said, with a deep frown and groggy voice. This was overwhelming. 

“Hi back! Take it easy, alright? Me and Claire will runs some tests to make sure everything’s a-okay. It will take about an hour, I know this whole experience can be a bit strange in the beginning, so hopefully this will ease you into it.”

Norm was a man of his word, and after about an hour of wiggling every part of your body, touching your fingers to your nose, remembering names of objects and repeating it to them, among other things, you were ready to go. You realise to your surprise that you’re excited about going outside. You couldn’t stand the sensation overload that came with being in this lab, in this body. You stood up gently and removed the chords that were still attached to you. You turned around to look at the glass that was reflecting your new figure back at you, and found yourself at a loss for words for the millionth time in 24 hours. It was such a strange feeling, and you knew it would take you a while to get used to looking in the mirror and be met with this. You smiled and waved, knowing Max would be watching you from behind the glass, even though you couldn’t see it. 

Norm handed you a bag, and you peered inside to find a beige loincloth and the top Neytiri gifted you yesterday. “Go change, I think you’ll feel better in these.” 

You did as you were told. Removing the white hospital garb you had on, you looked at yourself fore the first time, properly looked. You were tall. Very tall. And skinny, very skinny. Lean was probably a better word for it, as you couldn’t see an ounce of fat anywhere on your body. You started poking your body in different spots and let out a small laugh at the feeling: it felt like touching soft metal. You were strong. The thought made you happy. You looked again in the mirror at your face. Big yellow eyes looked at you curiously. They traced your nose, and your plump lips and your white freckles, beautiful like the night sky. Your eyes settled on your hair, long and soft and dark and your arm reached behind you to bring your braid into focus. You lifted it and looked in awe at the queue and the way the tendrils were moving on their own accord. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins like water breaking apart mountains to make a canyon of your mind. 

Neteyam’s words suddenly broke through.  “You’re not going to make it.” 

Adrenaline turned into rage and you hated it, hated the boy in that moment. Hated the effect his words had on you, even after so much time. You dressed slowly and tried to make sense of the “top” Neytiri gave you. Once you put it on, you looked back in the mirror and loved the way it looked on you. You also had a newfound appreciation for the soft feel of the feathers and the beads, and took note of the contrast between it and the unnatural feeling hospital gown you were in a few minutes ago. If it wasn’t for your eyebrows and your five fingers and your soft, straight hair, you wondered if anyone could be fooled into thinking you are, in fact, Na’vi. 

“You know nothing about the real world.” 

Dropping the clothes in the bag provided, you took one last look at yourself and saw something in your eyes that wasn’t there before. Determination. The sick, stubborn determination that has always made you push out all reason as soon as someone tells you you can’t do something. 

“Tell Norm no.”

You left the room smiling. You will make him eat his words, and you will enjoy every minute of it.

You reached for the mask packs by the entrance and dropped your hand. You will never have to wear that damn mask again, you thought with satisfaction. As you stood outside, it felt again like emerging in your avatar body for the first time. So many sounds, colours, sensations flooded your being and you couldn’t even register the voice yelling your name until the person that spoke it took you by the shoulders. You hissed at the sudden contact and it shocked you. Where did that come from? 

“Angel, you there?” 

“Give her a second, Lo’ak. This is bound to overwhelm her and you yelling at her isn’t going to speed up the process.”

“I can’t believe she just hissed at me.” 

The world slowly seemed to settle around you, and you focused you sight on the boy in front of you… the boy who was now your height.

“Lo’ak?” 

“Hey, you.” The younger Sully boy gave you a big smile and eyed you intently up and down a few times. “Damn, you’re hot this way, too. This is unfair, you know? But also somehow makes me feel better that it turns out I’m not into a different species altogether, just one girl.” 

You laughed, really laughed. Lo’ak was a charmer, another one of the many many traits he inherited from his dad. 

“You’re shorter than I thought you’d be.” 

“Ouch.” You knew he wasn’t really offended, so you blew a kiss towards him and shifted your attention to the world, that you realise you have never seen before. Not properly. Its beauty left you speechless. You don’t know how you were supposed to function when all you wanted to do is just walk around, smelling the flowers. 

“We have to get going, you’re going to start your training today, and your new boss is not going to be happy if you’re late.”

“My new boss?”

“Yep. Neteyam has been given the tough job of taking your lab ass and turning it into a Na’vi warrior. I have to say, I don’t envy him,  and I definitely don’t envy you.” 

“Lo’ak, shut up.” 

Well, this is going to be fun… You had a hunch Neteyam would have to train you, as Lo’ak is too young and restless and cares about the rules too little, or not at all, to do it, but hearing it as a fact made you shudder. You haven’t spent a whole day with Neteyam in years, and you didn’t particularly care for this new-and-improved version of himself. You wondered silently how this was going to go. If the last two interactions are anything to go by, you were not in for a happy time.  

“Lo’ak should be here any second. I want you to start training her right away. Maybe start with the Pa’li first, and do bow training when that gets too much. You won’t really have to teach her the language, but try to make sure you talk in Na’vi more than in English, and this way you’ll see if there are any gaps in her knowledge and address them. Neteyam, are you listening?” 

The oldest Sully sibling was only half paying attention to what his dad was telling him. In truth, he was scared half to death. He didn’t want to do any of this. This is not how any of this was supposed to go. He couldn’t be around you. He didn’t want to be around you and he most definitely didn’t want to have to teach you the ways of the Na’vi and have to put his own training and responsibilities aside for this. He has already had to teach Lo’ak whenever his parents had better things to do and he was getting so fucking tired of being used as soon as it was convenient for other people. 

He pushed the bitter feelings aside. His parents relied on him for a reason, he tried to remember. They relied on him because they trusted him, and because he fought hard to be worthy of that trust. He had no right to complain, not when he knew how much worse it could be… for better or for worse, at least he had parents to rely on him. The thought made him sad, and he felt guilt at the words he spat at you yesterday. He knew they were for the greater good, but he also knew they crossed a line, a line that he might not be able to cross back from. 

He didn’t have time to think about the consequences of his actions, as he heard a yell that pulled him out of his thoughts and he knew it was time to come face to face with his worst nightmare. 

“We’re here!”, screamed Lo’ak, and Neteyam suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at his immature younger brother. 

He made his way outside of the tent, picking up his knife and placing it on the sheath resting beneath his chest. He took a deep breath, one that got lodged in his throat.

Next to Lo’ak was a girl. The most beautiful girl he has ever laid his eyes on. Her stripes were somehow more accentuated than normal, and they reminded him of his own. It was something he was insecure about growing up, the deep contrast something his friends and even family teased him about relentlessly, but now, looking at it on her, he realised they were blind - he was blind - to have ever hated them. Her eyes were now yellow, a big departure from her human eyes, and although it was strange, just like the rest of her, they still felt familiar to him. Like no matter what body she inhabited, her soul would always shine through, always calling out to him like a moth to a flame. He knew then he’d always feel like this about her, for the rest of his life, no matter what she looked like. Fuck.

“Look at you, kid! You look like you belong already!” 

Jake’s voice cut through the tension that you felt sitting here, being eyed at like you were a new cub at the zoo. The stares made you so uncomfortable you felt like you were going to explode, and could not wait until this was no longer a novelty to anyone, including yourself. 

“Thank you, Jake. For everything. I cannot express how grateful I am that you and Neytiri, and the tribe, are so willing to accept me in the village.” 

“No problem, kid. Anyway, we will have plenty of time to discuss everything tonight at dinner, but for now I think you and Neteyam should head off. There’s a lot to learn.”

“Right.” You turned around and gave a half-smile to Lo’ak, who looked at you like you were a deer in headlights. Maybe you did look how you felt. 

You bid a small goodbye to everyone and suddenly found yourself face to face with the only person you didn’t want to see. 

He started walking without saying a word, and you followed him. You refused to say anything to him, there was nothing to say to him after yesterday. Before yesterday, you might have demanded an explanation, you might have demanded he told you what happened to him in the year he abandoned you, what lead to him leaving without a single word, how dare he forget about what he meant to you and what you knew you meant to him, how could he just forsake you like you were nothing; you would have screamed at him and told him you hated him without meaning it and hoped he would just hug you and told you he’s sorry, that he was stupid and that he’ll never leave you again. None of that came out. You were past that. He crossed a line and you knew it in your mind that no explanation would be enough, no excuse would justify his behaviour enough to satisfy you and make you forget. Not anymore. 

His back was to you as he was leading you away from the Sully tent, and for the first time in your life, you saw him for what he was. A leader, a warrior. He was lean and muscular, and his physique reminded you a lot more of Jake than a Na’vi man’s. His shoulders were broader and his arms were bigger, leading to a more accentuated contrast between them and his waist, and you hated yourself for how it made you feel, how your mouth filled with saliva you had to force yourself to swallow and how your pulse increased so rapidly it almost made you dizzy. He was taller than you, taller than Lo’ak and you knew that even in this body, he would still tower over you. You definitely hated how that made you feel. 

He stopped at the entrance to a tent. He opened the flap of the entrance and motioned for you to enter. You obliged without a word. He followed you in and closed the flap behind him. You didn’t like being in such close proximity, but you knew you’d have to get used to it, so you let it go.

“This is now your tent. Mum and Dad thought you would feel more comfortable with your own space. They also thought you’d like my old training bow. There’s a pouch for your knife that you can put around your torso and I have the knife, but I won’t give it to you until I make sure you won’t kill me with it.” 

As far as an attempt to diffuse an awkward situation goes, this wasn’t half bad. Still, not nearly good enough to matter. He sighed at the lack of response.

“Right. I think we have to get a few things straight.”

Your eyebrow raised, but you let him go on.

“I know you’re mad. I know you’re so mad you’re probably thinking of ways of sticking needles in my eyes. But I don’t care. I was given a responsibility to take care of you and to teach you. I know you think you know everything, but you don’t. I know you think you know this world, but you don’t. Not in the way you need to, to survive. There’s a reason no scientist living on Pandora has ever become one of the people. You can’t see. As my grandma always says, “you cannot fill a cup which is already full”. I know you. Your cup is overflowing. From now on, you do what I say. Pretend you don’t know me, pretend we’re not you and me.” 

“I don’t know you, Neteyam.”

He winced inside at the words. “That’s enough!” He said, forcefully. 

“You answer to me from now on and I want to make sure you understand that. Dad will skin me alive if anything happens to you. You will listen and you will do as I say. Whatever issues you have, you’re going to have to deal with them in your own time.” 

Another blow below the belt, you thought, and reminded yourself that you were here for a reason, you were here to make him eat his words, and if he wanted to play his game this way, you were more than happy to beat him at it. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

You made your way out of the village and walked in silence through the woods. You were looking at the bow in your hand, and carefully traced every mark and scratch on its surface. You couldn’t help wonder about what events in Neteyam’s life lead to each and every one of them, and vowed to yourself that you would take care of this bow with your life, if not for anything else, for the still untarnished memory of that little boy you once loved so much. Once you reached a large clearing, with beautiful lush greenery and a majestic waterfall, you thought this was definitely a much better view for training than the reagent-filled benches of the lab. You saw about half a dozen Pa’li peacefully feeding off the sweet nectar of flowers in the distance, and smiled gently at the sight. You will never get used to it, you knew. 

“First step to being a Na’vi, learning to form Tsaheylu and learning to ride the Pa’li.” Neteyam spoke in Na’vi over the soothing sounds of the forest.

“OK.” You answered shortly.

“In Na’vi. We speak Na’vi from now on.”

“Kurkung (asshole).” Neteyam shoots you a dirty look and you can’t help but smirk. “What? That’s Na’vi. Perfect pronunciation, by the way.” 

His mouth tightened in a straight line and he left you, busying himself with a Pa’li he called over. He caressed it gently and held his hand next to his eye, whispering. 

“Tam tam, Tirea, tam tam.” 

“Get on.” He spoke to you still looking at the Pa’li. 

Even in this body, the direhorse was significantly taller than you, and you shot Neteyam an incredulous look. Regardless, you made your way to the animal and with all of your might, willed yourself to get on top of it. It took a couple of tries, but you eventually succeeded. You were stronger than you realised, and you were excited to discover exactly how strong you could become in time. 

Neteyam gently took the neural whip of the direhorse and guided it to you. You took it in your right hand and stared at it in amazement. You have heard so much about this, you have seen it firsthand with Neteyam’s Ikran, but to know you will now have to make your own Tsaheylu, experience this deep bond you knew everything and yet nothing about, it was terrifying. You left hand went behind your head and brought forward your own queue. This was it. Slowly, you brought the two together, and held tightly on to the Pa’li as the new sensation overwhelmed all of your senses. It felt like all of your neurons were firing at the same time. It felt like you were being electrocuted. As the feeling subsided, you felt a breath that was moving at the same time as your own, you felt a second heartbeat that was going much faster than yours possibly could, and you tried to calm yourself down as you knew the nervousness the animal felt was mirroring your own. Neteyam allowed you a second to experience this for yourself with no interruption, and you appreciated that. He trusted you enough to give you some space, and with everything, at least this hasn’t changed.

“This is Tsaheylu. The bond. Take some time to feel her, feel her heartbeat, her breath. Feel her strong legs. You can tell her what to do, inside your mind. Remember that as you can feel her, she can feel you, too. Your emotions impact her, your thoughts impact her, so you have to calm your mind.Easier said than done in your case, I fear.” 

You felt your anger pick up and the Pa’li let out a scream and rose on its hind legs, throwing you straight in the dirt. Neteyam laughed, but came to help you get up. As you were removing mud from your face and hair and cursing all manners of profanities under you breath, you came to the bitter realisation this was going to be harder than you thought, especially with him as your teacher. 

He still knew you too well. You slapped his hand away and got up by yourself, indignantly. You jumped back on the Pa’li and tried your very, very best, to calm yourself before making the bond. The horse didn’t react as violently as last time, so you figured you were off to a better start. You calmed your mind as much as you could, like you did in the linkpod, and imagined her slowly moving forward. You smiled when she did just that, no words needed. It was hard to be able to maintain your composure when you were LITERALLY mind controlling another living being, but despite it needing active continuous effort, you felt you were doing a good job. You managed to make her go, sprint, gallop and turn, and despite the direhorse’s best efforts, you were somehow still tightly attached to its back. 

After a couple of hours, Neteyam told you to get off. He told you to follow him, and he took off, not sparing you a second glance. You followed him the best you could for a while, desperately trying to overlook how uncomfortable being barefoot made you feel. You didn’t like it at all, and more and more, you felt your heartbeat picking up in your chest and your knees shaking. You felt beads of sweat getting in your eyes and they stung, so you stopped. Your laboured breath became shallow, and your hands were shaking uncontrollably as you raised them to wipe your forehead. You felt your knees collapse under you, and you knew what was about to happen and that it was too late to stop it. 

“Neteyam, wait up.” You called after the blue boy, slight panic in your voice.

“I thought we were supposed to be racing.” 

“You win, alright? Don’t leave me alone in the woods.” 

You saw Neteyam jogging back to where you stood with a guilty look on his face. “You know I’d never leave you alone.”

He picked you up and placed you on his back. “After 16 years, have I ever left you alone?” 

“Well, you’ve been training a lot recently and I barely get to see you anymore, so I would say yes, you leave me alone plenty, more than I can say I care for.” 

“Well, I want to be strong and capable so I can always protect you. I mean look at you, Tuk’s gonna be stronger than you soon.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” You pretended to ignore his first sentence and how it lit your entire body on fire. 

You walked like this for a while. You placed your head on his shoulder and peered up at the tall trees. Prolimuris were swinging on them, picking up fruits as they went along. You saw two infants following their mother and stopping on the same branch as her, where she passed them what you were sure was a tasty afternoon snack. You smiled contently at the scene, and at the feeling of warmth Neteyam provided. 

“Put me down, I want to walk! I came with you to exercise, not be carried like a tiny Pandoran baby.” 

He did as you asked, huffing at your forever mercurial temper. 

With your back still to him, you let out a laugh and started running. “Race you to the clearing in the distance?” 

He rolled his eyes, and with a laugh, stopped himself. He always gave you a head start. “Fine, but you can’t get mad when I beat you again!” 

You turned around to give him a smile as you were running and loved the feeling of the ground beneath your feet. The only place you could run around barefoot, the only time you still felt alive. 

You came to an abrupt halt when your foot touched something strange, something unnatural. You slowly looked at your feet and froze in place as the smooth pale object made your blood run cold. It couldn’t be. You stepped away from it, not leaving it from your view and slowly, deliberately knelt down next to it. You heard Neteyam coming to a halt behind you, but couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge his presence. Your hands started digging in the ground with morbid curiosity and the sounds around you became muffled as your erratic heartbeat was the only thing you could still hear. You removed the ground around it and tears formed in your eyes at the realisation that this was indeed what you feared it was: a human skull. A human skull you just stepped on. Before you knew it, your hands were reaching for a glimmer of silver shining in the shallow grave. You lifted it to your eye line and heard yourself scream, wail louder than you ever had before. The panic that overtook you was primal, but not unfamiliar and you threw the dog tag on the ground, with enough force you hoped would bury it further than anybody would ever be able to dig. You couldn’t see properly anymore, the tears and dizziness flooding your senses and you prayed you passed out, prayed to make this stop, prayed you were back in your room where your Xanax always lay by your bedside table. In a blind rage, you were clawing at your feet, trying to remove the dirt, remove the skin that stepped on your dad’s dead body like it was a gum wrapper on the pavement. Soon enough, you could taste the metal taste of blood that was lingering in the air and by the grace of whatever spirit was out there still looking after you, you felt yourself collapse in Neteyam’s arms. 

Tag list: @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi

[anexperimentallife]

Soooo... a clump of sixteen cells IS a person if it's inside a woman's body, but NOT a person if it's at an in-vitro clinic and the donors WANT it destroyed, but a person AGAIN at an in vitro clinic if the donors DON'T want it destroyed, but NOT a person again if stored for over ten years (meaning it's past viability)? Or something like that?

And apparently brown kids (especially Palestinian kids) who have actually been BORN aren't people at ANY age, according to US lawmakers.

[visions--of--collisions]

for @spidereticas who requested 400 words of something I have fragments of: here is .. more than 400 words of an inspired-by/follow-up to I Get So Hungry (When You Say You Love Me) by AbiCats16, in which an experimental trial at Spider Society goes poorly for Hobie (and for Miles, in turn)

EXCERPT: some of us will never sleep again • hobie/miles, drama, romance, angst, friendship, established relationship; rated: m

“Ope,” said LYLA, somewhere close to Hobie’s ear. “Incoming!”

Peter crossed the cell to get the door, and Miguel dismissed the last of the medical team with a sigh. Miles’ anxious voice carried over the noise of their departure; Hobie rolled his shoulders and climbed to his feet.

“You’re cleared to go,” Miguel informed him, pointedly not looking up from his readings as Miles led the charge across the room with Margo and Peter in tow. “Your system’s clean, but I’m going to ask that you take the next twenty-four hours to rest. Margo here’s agreed to cover your patrols for the evening; Pavitr will take over when she’s done.”

“Just call me Renfield, I guess,” Margo drawled. She watched with raised eyebrows as Miles reached up to grab Hobie’s face, turning it this way and that like he was looking for physical proof that the serum’s effects had faded.

Like he wasn’t the one with the scars to prove its viability.

“Let’s not,” Miguel grunted. Hobie snorted. Margo hadn’t been privy to the trials until she’d shown up for her morning shift and Peter’d convinced him to rope her in, according to the texts Miles had sent from Medbay. Miguel hadn’t been happy about it then, and he wasn’t now, it seemed like, regardless of how much sense the choice made. He dismissed the projected screens with a curt motion. “There were no previous reports of any side effects, but if anything feels off, ping LYLA and come back to HQ. That applies to you both,” he added, with a meaningful look Miles’ way.

Miles made an affirmative noise, though his focus remained on Hobie. “You look wiped, man,” he observed. He thumbed across the hollow under Hobie’s left eye.

“M’alright,” he mumbled. He caught Miles’ wrist and managed a smile. “Better for seeing you in one piece.” There was an adhesive bandage matching Miles’ skintone just visible under the cowl neck of the sweatshirt Medbay must have supplied him with. The tall boots and the slate-coloured trousers had to be theirs too then, because getting him into anything that tight that wasn’t his Suit was usually a once-in-a-blue-moon kind of occurrence.

Miles chuffed. “‘In one piece?’ Are you kidding, I slept through the whole thing. I dunno what they gave me, but that stuff was potent.”

“This man was fully snoring and drooling when I walked in there,” Margo agreed. “Sheets fucked up, pillows on the damn floor. Giving the whole ward a free show! Pete really had my ass worried for nothing.” She folded her arms, tucking a neatly-folded bundle that looked awfully like Miles’ Suit into the crook of her elbow. “I thought I was gonna be hauling both your corpses through a portal, the way this dude was talking.”

“In my defence, you kinda blipped out of there before I could elaborate,” Peter pointed out. Hobie noticed he was still just in his Suit, for once; his memory of the night was all over the place, practically blank in some spots and almost excruciatingly vivid in others. MJ’s dressing gown had vanished in one of the latter - really, in the clearest stretch - after Jess and Miguel had burst in to rescue Miles before things went any further south.

Didn’t really take an educated guess to work out what had happened to it.

“Well, you know, you tell a girl one of her friend’s in a cell dosed up on Nosferatu juice and the other’s bleeding out in Medbay, it really lights a fire under her!”

Miles’ pulse was strong and steady under his thumb. Hobie didn’t remember feeling for it. He loosened his grip and let Miles slip free.

Miles grabbed his forearm before he could step back. “You good to get outta here?” he asked.

The hopeful tilt to his smile made Hobie’s answer easier than it probably should’ve been. “Yeah, mate.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m good. You?” he couldn’t help but ask. There was none of the feverish sheen or the washed-out look of his skin that had shocked Hobie into letting Miles go after their last ill-fated conversation, even though he was looking for it. His hair might have suffered a bit of shrinkage while he spent the night in a hospital bed, but it was negligible. 

The shirt was thick and its sleeves fell past Miles’ knuckles. He couldn’t make out any telltale bump where the gauze might be taped over an IV site. Hobie decided he’d ask when they had a second alone.

Assuming Miles was feeling up to that any time soon. Who could blame him if he wasn’t? “I have been ready, Hobes,” Miles informed him. He was smiling, his eyes creased at the corners in the way that meant Miles was laughing at him.

The knot in his stomach unravelled a bit. “Alright, shit. Don’t hang about on my account.”

Miles reached up just in time to intercept the folded bundle of his suit before it hit him in the head. “I am also ready to leave, if we’re all done here with this Twilight bullshit,” Margo chirped.

“Great. Thanks. How do you even know what that is?” Miles groused. He tucked himself against Hobie’s side, looping an arm around his lower back like he was ready to do the walking for him if need be. Hobie waited until Miles met his eye to drape his arm around his shoulders with exaggerated enthusiasm, pecking his temple when he glanced away sheepishly.

“Are you kidding, Pavitr lives for those movies! He’s got Collector’s Editions. Gayatri hates them and it’s like he doesn’t even care.” She oof-ed a bit as Hobie hooked his free arm around her avatar’s shoulders, but tucked her hand in between his and Miles’ sides readily enough.

“Huh. You know, that scans, actually,” Peter opined.

“Hmm. Espere un momento,” Miguel interjected, behind them. “You can go from here. LYLA, open access for Peter, por favor.”

“Y’got it!”

Peter rubbed his hands together. “Okay, where to, guys? Straight to ‘138 or should I drop you someplace else?”

Miles shook his head when Hobie glanced at him; Margo rolled her eyes and called up her mask. “Nah, mine’s good. I can give you the coordinates.”

Peter tapped at his Watch’s interface. “Go for it.”

Hobie rattled off the location of the first towpath bridge that came to mind; he hadn’t moored anywhere near there, but they could swing the rest of the way, and he had a better shot at finding Roxie the further afield they were. A minute later, the portal opened up a hole in the adjacent wall of the cell. Miles stuffed his Suit into his waistband, underneath the shirt.

“Okay, you guys, have a good one. Call us if you need anything! Me and Jess and Miguel are all burning the midnight oil this week, so don’t worry about catching us at a weird hour. Reach out whenever. Try and get some rest in the meantime, and make sure you eat, Hobie!”

The three of them waited in front of the portal, staring. “ … Anything else?” Margo prompted him.

“Remember what we talked about,” Miguel said, before he could answer. He was squinting at something LYLA was showing him, half-turned away. Just in case anyone was audacious enough to hope for context clues or a clarification, Hobie supposed.

He didn’t need any, but it was the principal of the thing.

“ … Cool. Alright.” Even with her headgear donned, Margo managed to give Hobie a disbelieving look. “Catch you later.”

She nudged Hobie forward; on his other side, Miles’ hand closed around the arm that hugged him close, and they walked through the dimensional door.

*

The portal dropped them into the half-light under a bridge in Islington. Experience had quickly taught Hobie to note the coordinates that pointed away from nearby bodies of water (it hadn’t been a learning curve so much as one or two deeply unpleasant and inconvenient swandives directly into the Thames) so instead they fetched up against a wall covered in faded graffiti and posters and some piss, which was still better than the alternative.

Between the three of them, it was Miles and Hobie who managed to cling to enough of their wits to stick out a leg before they all face-planted into the bricks. Margo let out a surprised breath where Hobie had twisted her back by the shoulders, on reflex.

The ruddy cast on the walls dimmed and died as the portal closed up behind them. In the gloom it left behind, they collected themselves and took stock. Hobie lifted his right arm high enough to check his watch without letting go of Miles. It had been after ten in the morning when the last tests declared him free of any traces or symptoms; his HQ watch had already dutifully ticked over to local time. 17:02, the glowing orange face read.

“Huh. Well this feels pretty on-brand.” Margo’s gear shone lilac when Hobie turned; her silhouette was stark against the fog spilling into the far end of the tunnel.

“What do you mean?” Miles asked. He reached up and squeezed Hobie’s hand, waiting for him to take his arm back before he turned to consider the other end of the tunnel, which looked much the same.

“I dunno, the London fog, this Dracula nonsense. You know?” Margo put her hands on her hips, frowning as she glanced about. Her lenses multiplied. “Where’s the good ship Demeter at?”

“Not here.” Hobie stretched a bit and checked his web-shooters. “We’ll swing over. Haven’t seen Roxie in a bit; I wanna find out where she’s got to.”

“‘Find her?’ In that?” Margo said, doubtfully. Her peripheral lenses changed colour as she tabbed through different visual modes, casting soft rainbow reflections off the surface of the water. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Miles watching the rippling colours as he clipped on his web shooters and dug out his mask. Hobie adjusted his guitar strap. “S’fine, I know her usual spots. Let’s cut.”

Miles’ and Margo’s footsteps were bare whispers following the echo of his boots as Hobie lead them out onto the towpath. In the open, the mist hung thicker in his lungs than it did in the air; Hobie tugged his mask on and told them to stay close, just in case. 

The approaching rumble of a lorry made him straighten up, and the other two turned to follow his gaze. Briefly, as its headlights cut through the haze, Hobie’s eyes caught on the sliver of skin between the slouchy neck of Miles’ jumper and his mask, where the bandage underneath strained against the torsion of his neck. Then Miles turned to him, the lenses of his mask refractive and questioning. Hobie nodded and threw out a web after the truck, letting its momentum haul him off the ground.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[penpalking]

31 July, 2024

I woke this morning, with a strong desire to saunter through the woods. The morning was still, not a sound caressed my ear drum. I looked around, nonplussed. The curtains drawn, my room fully veiled in black. What, pray, had woken me? I glanced around once more, not able to put two and two together. But then it hit me. It was a feeling, deep within my soul. It was as if an old friend had rung me up, and had impressed upon me a desire to spend much needed time together. I felt the call, the longing - and I knew I must answer.

Bracing myself against the cold, I quickly got dressed. One leg, two legs. One arm, two. On my way out of my room, I picked up un ami - my trusty knit cap. I had a feeling it would be needed. Making my way across the landing, I chanced a gaze outside through a slightly frosted window. I had to catch my breath. Lo and behold, yonder - thick mists embroiled & wrapped around the grey trunks of the tall wooden soldiers standing guard at the edge of the clearing. Their branches wholly still, outstretched, enveloped in thick fog. My, what a majestic and magical sight it was!

I skipped down the stairs, ran to the coat rack, threw on my wintery coat, my wintery boots - I was out the door.

The grass was lightly frosted, crunching amicably underfoot. I took in a deep breath and soon felt the long fingers of winter reaching through my nostrils, down my throat, and into my very lungs. It's grip was strong, but not wholly smarting. A few tears formed at the edges of my sight, a side-effect of this wintry weather.

I made my way down an icy path 'tween the trees, a quiet hush lay over the woods. Winter had cast it's frosty magic - not a tweet, not a hoot, not a single patter of paws - all sat (or slept) in silence, wholly under it's spell. The Ice King ruled supreme with a permafrost hand - the flora and fauna knew it. Every being, plant, and forest sprite, lay in waiting, submitting to the potency and might of that glazed ruler.

I walked in reverence, aye, but tried not to let it weaken my step. Strong and courageous I strutted, under the bent arms of the Ice King's soldiers. Green moss flecked with brown peeped out occasionally from under the foliage, and I found my gaze casting about for the sight of chanterelles and other burgeoning shrooms. The air was thick with the living world, crisp and strong and filled with sweet and melancholic aromas. Ah, to feel young again - each breath rejuvenating, restoring, and revitalizing one's countenance.

It was as if the very Fountain of Youth was sprinkled into the mists - little drops cast about by swirling vapours, entering the lungs, the pores, one's very being. Mating with one's skin, cells, core.

As I walked further further into the bosom of these dense woods, I felt myself coming closer and closer to the truth. Each step an increase in veracity, rightness - as if the world was becoming more and more real and authentic, the further I ambled along. The very heart of truth beats deep within those woodlands, and I consider myself a lucky fellow indeed, to get to venture so close to something so ethereal. I almost feel it coursing through my veins, each step a beat of the heart. Pumping me full of candor, revelation, viability.

I get lost among the tree trunks, I really do. Not directionally, no. But spiritually, mentally, emotionally. I lose myself to the majesty of nature, of the beauty that surrounds me. Of the peace that comes with distancing oneself from other human beings.

It's a simple thing, really, a walk in the woods. But there's nothing simple about the profound impact and change it has upon one's thoughts, feelings, and general mind set.

There is beauty in the little things. If only you'd take the time to see.

[rabidpomeranians]

An unorthodox approach to troll reproduction

It’s blood.

Its always been blood, and we’ve all been fooled by our own preconceived notions of how reproduction works. We were given a fill in the blank riddle and got it so wrong that the thousands of fanfics that reference it stand now as a monument to our presumptuousness.

It’s the easiest bodily fluid to get a literal bucket full of quickly. It contains DNA that can be recombined with a partners and utilized by the mother grub. It keeps pairs of any sex/gender viable. And it weirdly explains why rainbowdrinkers are a thing...

First debunking the other possibilities:

From a human perspective the answers to troll reproduction that immediately come would be A) Two sexes with matched-set gemetes, B) All genetically male, or C) Hermaphrodites. Which all come with contradictions.

A) If individuals only produce sperm or eggs, than a statistically significant number of all pairs would be non productive. Given trolls have no concern over the viability of same sex quadrants, there must be a different mechanic in use.

B) If all trolls produce only sperm cells than there would be no mechanism for genetic mixing between individuals. In fact there would be no point in pairing/quadrants at all. Their social system would match ants or bees which forgo reproductive activity outside of one to one interactions with their queen.

Since its been stated that the viability of offspring is effected by the strength of a pair, we know that pairing is a crucial element. Also if trolls are all genetically male, than binary gender has little to no reason to exist (unless sex and gender are also conceptually divorced, which is another theory).

C) The hardest one to knock and the most popular for it. I guess I would pose the question why, in a strongly individualist society, would people form pairs to do what they could technically do all on their own? Or at least why would ‘self-pairing’ not be more common. Sure, pairing allows for more variety but if the gametes paired randomly, half of the resulting mix would still be self fertilized anyways. 

Ok but what does blood have to do with anything like this?

The fundamental flaw that lies over all three answers and probably several more is that we’ve applied human physiology to an alien species. Yes they look similar but their quadrants and mother grubs are vastly different from our monogamy and individually assigned reproductive organs.

Blood mixing negates sex pairing issues, allowing any two individuals to produce offspring. It allows for genetic recombination, given it contains plenty of dna and possibly beneficial hormones produced from the emotional virility of a pair. Lastly, it necessitates pairing. Mixed and unmixed blood have some kind of fundamental difference, which disallows an individual from self-pairing.

I’d chalk it up to something with the immune system. It’s like how in humans certain blood types mixing causes an immune response. Which inside of a body is horrible because it bursts the blood cells, but in an external mix, bursting cells leave exposed dna, allowing for easier recombination. The ‘dominant’ blood type (immunologically, not caste related) dismantles and assimilates the ‘recessive’ producing a viable ‘genetic slurry’ to be hauled off to the mother grub.

And there is plenty of room for the social taboo behavior exhibited by trolls throughout the comic. Trolls live on a hell planet where everything, and everyone, everywhere is looking for an opportunity to kill them, all the time. Thus advertising that you’ve recently lost a half gallon of blood and are vulnerable because of it, would be really stupid. It makes sense then, to keep talk down and hide away any evidence. This evolves pretty seamlessly into a close enough match to the typical cagey/secretive behavior humans tend to show around their own reproductive activities. Hence why we perceive a parallel even though the reasoning is different.

tldr: We all assume that trolls connect sex with reproduction because that’s what we do, but they’re aliens, they do weird alien things. If their biology worked exactly like ours, they wouldn’t have a big weird moth laying eggs for them. Also you’re welcome.

[dr-abigail-richelieu]

In an earlier entry, we discussed vampire packs. Surprisingly, despite their extremely antisocial nature, we have found evidence that vampires would form packs. Early in their evolution, they were somewhat social animals and would form packs. In later periods before their extinction, they apparently began forming packs again to make hunting humans easier. These packs typically consisted of a mother and her brood, with a hierarchy likely based on dominance. Essentially, the strongest individual was the pack leader.

Even so, these creatures remained highly antisocial. They didn't live together; when not hunting, the pack would occupy a large territory, with each member living separately. While vampires never really developed their own society, we do think that these packs did develop a very basic form of it and even a very basic language. 

In 2001, a huge burial ground was discovered in Eastern Europe, near Russia. Investigations by anthropologists and archaeologists revealed that the area was, in fact, the hunting ground of a vampire pack. Their housing was found shortly after: a huge cave system that appeared to have been artificially expanded. The entire underground system extended around half a kilometer in total. The remains of around 15 individual vampires were found, each in their own chambers. Most seemed to have died while hibernating. It is believed that they had exhausted their main source of food and decided to go into hibernation, possibly hoping to awaken when food became available once more. Most of their remains were relatively well preserved, which is to be expected thanks to their ability to enter suspended animation, this “undead phase” essentially had them mummified themselves alive… The oldest vampire in the group was found in the biggest chamber, we suspect she was the matriarch of the clan.

Using bone histology such as osteon counting and dental analysis of her remaining teeth, and other methods more finely tuned to vampires, we were able to estimate her age before death to be around 143 years, not counting any past hibernation, however, using advance Histopathological Examination of her soft tissues, such as the state of collagen and elastin fibers and more, we were able to determine that she was biologically around in her mid to late 20s, which is to be expected from Vampires. 

Homovorus have plenty of adaptations against senescence, the most prevalent being an increased telomerase production to maintain telomere length, which is associated with cellular longevity. Cells can divide way more times before reaching senescence. Another adaptation being the production of antioxidants enzymes protecting them from the harmful effects of radiant oxidation and ionizing radiation. In short Vampires are essentially immune to senescence, they do not age, at least not physically. Once they reach adulthood at around their early 20s they will not physically age anymore, however they're bones will still degrade overtime, causing them to become weaker and unable to hunt as efficiently as before, but that isn't it. They're superior production of collagen also aids them; this consistently high rate of collagen production, ensures their skin and connective tissues remain youthful and heal quickly. They also retain high levels of active stem cells throughout their lives. In humans, stem cell activity declines with age, but in vampires, this activity remains constant or at least higher than in humans, allowing for continuous efficient tissue repair and regeneration almost akin to that of human juvenile. We believe that the reason for such adaptations to have emerged is because of a combination of factors, but mainly because of their already low reproduction rates. Because of this, a long lifespan and extended periods of reproductive viability was advantageous, as it allowed individuals to contribute to the gene pool over a longer time. We do not know as of late, when or even if Homovore reaches reproductive senescences… In any cases, we'll discuss such topics in another entry focusing on Vampire reproduction.

Going back to the discovery, it's important to precise that while the Matriarch’s bones were degraded they weren't at all as damaged as one would expect of such an old individual. She could very likely still be active in her community, if not it's very likely that she wouldn't have been tolerated by the others, even if they were her own kids, and perhaps even participate in hunts, though to a much lesser extent. We can also see that she had a lot of healed bone fractures and much more such as dental work and even dental implants, using carved bones (these implants were quite honestly very well done, almost indistinguishable visually from other teeths) This tells us two things.

1: This clan of vampires was capable of primitive yet very impressive medical feats.

2: These vampires were able to show forms of compassionate behaviour. One could argue that these interventions were done in the name of efficiency, so that others could heal faster and burden the others less, however some of these interventions weren't as seemingly necessary for the survival of the individual and more or less done for her comforts.

In other chambers we discovered primitive yet complexed tools as well as a few cattle pens, most likely used for keeping humans. We essentially uncovered substantial evidence of tribal culture and technology. Among the findings were even symbols, writings on birch bark scrolls, and most impressively, cave paintings. These paintings were intricate and detailed yet disturbingly macabre. Many depicted human faces contorted in agony or mutilated corpses. While unsettling, such imagery wasn't entirely unexpected. Vampires, being our natural predators, evolved not only to hunt us but also, as some researchers have shown, to preserve their victims for extended feeding.

One chamber stood out for its striking details: On the wall, there was a meticulous drawing of a human head frozen in a scream. In front of the painting, a skull rested upon an improvised counter, undoubtedly the model used for the artwork.

In conclusion, while Homovorus was typically a solitary and antisocial species, it was still capable of forming groups or tribes under certain circumstances. We still have a lot of learning to do concerning these fascinating beings

Exemple of symbols we found in the cave