#animal sensitivity to earthquakes

[maxgicalgirl]

Is there anything in nature that naturally makes that insufferable bass sound that a semi-truck makes or did we as humans just invent that sound because we like suffering ?

[lexxiesbimboboobs]

Birthday Gift

“Really, Kat?”, May asked, giggling under her nose, “I know I have a bit of a reputation among you all, but isn’t this a bit much?”.

“Girl, you fucked half the people in our friend group, me included”, she replied, endearingly, perhaps even with a hint of an invitation in her tone, “This is your reward and encouragement. Go and make that half into a whole - and then some. Just remember not to hit up Daniel, he doesn’t really do sex”. 

“Aww, that is so sweet”, she winked, as if to acknowledge the not-so-subtle invitation she’s just been given. “Gimme a sec, I’ll go and change right now”. As she walked towards the bathroom, she spun the shirt above her head and shouted “Time to be sluuut!”, much to Kat’s endearment. 

As she put on the shirt, May felt an intense pulse of energy seeping through the shirt into her body. All of the cells on its surface - and some of the ones inside of it - lit ablaze with an extreme, burning need, if only just for a brief moment. Yet, after they calmed down, something was different. She was different. 

She got out of the bathroom and presented the shirt, fitting her perfectly. And, suffice it to say, her reaction was more than positive.

“Holy shit! You look so good!”.

“I know, right? I feel kinda weird, though?”

“What do you mean?”

When asked to elaborate, May’s mind went blank all of a sudden. She felt yet another wave of heat enveloping her body. She could suddenly feel even the slightest gust of air flowing inside the room, caressing her body, spreading the fire around it. “You know what, how about I just show you?”.

To put it mildly, she jumped onto Kat like a rabid animal, something which Kat seemed oddly unsurprised by. After what was merely seconds of an extremely wild, sloppy kiss, clothes were coming off left and right - aside from the top. May felt a weird compulsion to keep it on and, besides, it looked really hot with nothing else on her body. 

Their lips met again, only to be separated as quickly as the previous time. May’s tongue then made its way down Kat’s body, with each sensitive part of it being an important stop on the way to the destination. Kat’s neck, boobs, nipples, stomach, and inner thighs found themselves kissed, licked, or bitten (...usually all three) one after the other. All of that at breakneck speed - May was not going to let her friend think even for the briefest moment. 

And as she licked and teased, as she bit and kissed, the strange pulses kept emanating from her top. At some point, they made her so sensitive to pleasure - and so desperate for it - that her body started mirroring what Kat was feeling. If she bit her nipple, she’d feel the same itch around her own, if she teased Kat’s pussy with her hand, always nearing it, but never touching it, she herself would also be teased. 

“You’re such a slut, May”, Kat shouted out, between breaths, as May finally approached her clit - and immediately started licking it like mad. 

In response, the top emanated a wave of pleasure so hot it nearly burned. And May came on the spot, almost without being touched at all. She felt her entire being shifting, as it was shaken to the core. All the heat she had just experienced, all of the intense, animalistic lust and the incomprehensible pleasure now felt as if they were coursing through her veins, reshaping her, permanently into something new. Into something far, far less inhibited.

And yet, as all of that was happening, she didn’t pull her mouth away from Kat even for a second. And perhaps it was May’s skill, her extreme dedication to the primal art of fucking, some second-hand influence from the top itself, or even sheer lucky coincidence, but Kat also found herself on an orgasmic wave. It enveloped her body fully, causing her body to shake as if it had been struck with an earthquake. 

And as it slowly came to a close, her post-orgasmic bliss was interrupted by a sight of May, sitting in front of her, visibly topless and visibly… pink haired? Did the shirt melt into her, or something? 

“May, are you alright? Your hair is, uhh…” She wasn’t sure whether her brain was still not fully capable of thinking after her recent orgasm, or if the situation was just that surreal, but she frankly could not find a single word to even describe the situation. 

“Yeah, it’s pink! Weird, right?!” May responded, seemingly untroubled at all by her newly transformed hair - and likely other, more subtle changes as well. Instead, she just pouted her lips, gave Kat a doe-eyed stare and asked: “So, wanna fuck again?”

---

Make sure to totally message me or something if u come or edge to this story bc i still have like... 102 ppl i need to make cum before i can cum again <3 <3

Hope it was hot love lexxie <3 (also last second patreon plug!!)

[vixstarria]

Kinktober Day 8 - Stuck in a hole

For every day of the month of October I will be posting a little snippet following prompts listed in this post. Most of these will not be full fics, but rather short snippets, set-ups, and, in a few cases, copied bits and pieces of fics I have already published. But, if there is a lot of interest and feedback on any of the snippets, they might just evolve into full fics, so keep that in mind.

Disclaimer / TW: This is a crackfic and I laughed like a hyena writing parts of it. You have been warned.

Lae’zel was not having a good day. Wound tight as a string that was about to snap, the last dregs of her patience slipping through her fingers, she yearned for the peace that could only be found in her blade’s slashing through the flesh of her foes.

Their k'chakhi ‘leader’ was off investigating or, more likely, robbing a bank with her two pet elves and the harper Jaheira - that woman, at least, could be trusted to keep the istik nonsense to a minimum.

In the meantime, Lae’zel had volunteered to lead the wizard, warlock and cleric on a reconnaissance mission within Wyrm’s Rock Fortress. Alas, through no fault of her own - it was the wizard’s ever-crackling knees that blew their cover - they were caught and placed in a holding cell.

At least their captors shared the usual istik lack of discipline and common sense - they were not even taken to separate cells. And now, with some help from the wizard’s spells, they were making their way back out of the keep.

The warlock guided the group through the halls and passageways of the fortress - he was familiar with the layout. They had reached a wall which contained a gap large enough to crawl through (careless, these city dwellers, allowing such breaches to remain within their structures). Lae’zel allowed the two men to go through ahead of her, with the cleric trailing behind, but just as she was halfway through, an earthquake shook the keep, dislodging yet more of the bricks and stones that lined the wall and ceiling above, and trapping her in place. The stones had collapsed in a way that made it impossible to simply lift them from her. Miraculously, she was unharmed, praise be to Vl- chk! - but she was, undeniably, stuck between the two chambers separated by the crumbling wall.

��Have you any spells that might be of use, in your arsenal?” Wyll directed at Gale, once it was determined that manual extraction methods would not suffice, and once it was confirmed that Shadowheart was also unharmed - no one could see her behind the wall that separated the chambers.

“I’m afraid I’ve exhausted all the cunning tricks I had stashed up my sleeve getting us this far… But perhaps we have a scroll for the occasion?” said Gale.

"There’s got to be a scroll of gaseous form here somewhere,” Wyll said, digging through a bag of supplies. “Animal friendship… Colour spray… Why do we even carry these useless things?”

As the two mages (inept, both of them!) continued to rifle through their inventory of scrolls and trinkets, Lae’zel felt soft touches on the backs of her thighs. Shadowheart ran her fingers over Lae’zel’s bare skin, lightly brushing it with the blunt of her nails.

Lae’zel squirmed at the touch. Tsk’va, why had she ever divulged to the cleric that she was ticklish? It was so unlike her, so unwise to disclose a weakness… And this was not the time for such frivolities!

Lae’zel attempted to kick Shadowheart away, but the cleric easily dodged her without pausing her increasingly ribald caresses.

“Lae’zel?” Wyll asked.

“What?” she said, curtly, as Shadowheart continued to trace her thighs with her fingertips, feather light, making her skin tingle.

“There is a scroll of grease…” he said, hesitantly. “Perhaps if we-”

“No.”

Shadowheart’s hands moved up along the insides of Lae’zel’s thighs, playfully caressing the sensitive skin there, and continued to creep up. Lae’zel had to admit that it felt pleasant, even if the occasion was completely inappropriate for it.

Just as she thought the cleric would finally cease her foolishness, instead, Lae’zel felt the cleric fiddling with the clasps of her under-harness.

No. She wouldn’t dare.

Her mind had barely finished formulating that thought when her harness came undone, exposing her core. Lae’zel’s eyes shot wide open.

She dared.

Shadowheart’s fingers continued on their path along Lae’zel’s sex - gliding along the edges but refusing to slip inside.

Lae’zel knew she should’ve fought or at the very least ignored and refused to succumb to the cleric’s touch, and yet, despite herself, she felt a needful pulsing between her legs, blood rushing to all her most sensitive parts. She knew she would be dripping with slick in no time, if she wasn’t already. There was no use trying to hide it.

She was bested. It was undeniable. At this point there would be more honour, more dignity, in submission. She would accept defeat, this time, and use it as an opportunity to learn from the victor.

Lae’zel spread her legs and lifted her hips higher, presenting herself to the cleric.

Just a few feet away from her, Gale continued digging through his supplies.

“Ah, I have a scroll of goodberry!” he said. “Perchance you would like a snack while we search for solutions?”

Lae’zel all but hissed at the wizard in reply.

The cleric had wasted no time in accepting Lae’zel’s gesture of submission, and slid two fingers inside Lae’zel’s throbbing hole - stroking, but also searching and prying. Tsk’va! She had taught her too well.

Lae’zel sobbed as Shadowheart’s fingers located and curled into her t’rac spot.

Curses, she thought. Another weakness she had thoughtlessly disclosed prior, in a moment of foolhardiness.

“Lae’zel, are you alright?” Wyll said, with worry. The cleric must have heard her outcry, for her fingers continued their relentless assault with renewed, excited vigour.

“It’s nothing!” Lae’zel panted. “I… I do not do well in enclosed spaces.”

The spot within her pulsated with each stroke of the cleric’s fingers - a delicious sting, a palpitating itch that demanded more and more pressure, driving her to the edge of madness.

“It is important that you do not panic,” said Wyll, crouching down by Lae’zel. “We will get you out.”

“I am not panicking,” Lae’zel managed, breathlessly.

“No, of course not,” Wyll said, kindly. “Now… Lae’zel? Can you look at me?”

Assuming that he would not let the matter lie, Lae’zel lifted her gaze to meet the warlock’s, all the while arching her back and spreading her legs wider for Shadowheart.

“I am with you, and I will not leave you,” he said.

Lae’zel swore under her breath.

“Nice, deep breaths now. You are a mighty githyanki warrior, this is nothing you can’t handle.”

Lae’zel breathed deep, trying to keep her breaths level instead of gasping and gulping for air like she wanted to. The cleric’s ministrations had brought her to the very cusp of release. Only a little bit more… Only a little bit- A desperate whine, completely unexpected even by Lae’zel herself, tore from her throat as the cleric landed a sharp slap on her rear, without ceasing the stroking motions.

“Take my hand, Lae’zel!” Wyll urged her.

She cursed again but took his hand, nearly crushing it with the force of her grasp.

The warlock winced, but continued his efforts in uplifting her spirits.

“You are doing so well!”

With a sob, Lae’zel hid her face in the crook of her elbow, lying face down on the ground.

The blasted cleric had reached around her hips with her free hand, and began to rub around her exposed clitoris.

“There is no shame in being claustrophobic.”

As the words left Wyll’s mouth, Lae’zel’s whole world seemed to shake, and she released an animalistic scream from deep within her chest, just as she knew a generous spray of release squirted from between her shaking legs, continuing to be urged on by Shadowheart’s strokes. Somewhere in the back of her mind, spitefully, Lae’zel hoped it landed on the cleric.

It took some moments, but Lae’zel soon realised that her earth-shattering orgasm had, indeed, been accompanied by yet more tremors which shook everything around them.

And then all was still.

Lae’zel still panted when she felt Shadowheart refastening the clasps of her harness. A light, playful smack landed on her rump, before the cleric adjusted the strips of pteruges on her armour back in place, and retreated.

“It seems more of the stones have been dislodged, perhaps we can pull her out now?” said Gale, after he and Wyll had ascertained that Lae’zel remained unharmed.

She thought she would be inclined to murder all three of her companions on regaining her freedom, and yet when they finally pulled her out by her arms, Lae’zel felt oddly at peace. She met Shadowheart’s eyes when she followed her out through the crevice, and only let out a soft ‘chk’ at the sight of the smirking cleric.

She would exact skilful, precise revenge on her, later. On her honour as a warrior, yes she would.

My Kinktober masterlist and prompts post

[gofancyninjaworld]

Thinking about Garou

Question: "Compared to the first season, which draws attention to Saitama's exhilarating punches, the second season focuses on story development. Did you have any specific goals while drawing the story?" Murata: "There was one thing that I requested from ONE Sensei before drawing my re-illustrated manga. At first, there were plans to cut out Garou's childhood with the bully in my version, but that scene really left an impression on me. I thought it was a vital part of understanding Garou's position, so I discussed it with ONE Sensei and requested that I be able to leave it in for y version. And it was paced so well in the anime! I believe it ended up being a very high-quality scene." -- From the liner notes of One-Punch Man Season 2.

I'm including this because I feel it's fundamental to really talk about Garou with any depth. Garou without context does not make sense. He is a kind, sensitive, and thoughtful young man who wants to do good in the world. Yet, he caused a horrifying amount of harm, both directly and indirectly, and ultimately undermined his own goals.

I'm glad that ONE listened to Murata about keeping Garou's childhood flashback. Without it, he'd just have been a thug attacking heroes for no reason to us (pretty much as the heroes saw him). Not only that, but ONE has gone a lot further in the manga in showing us the context in which Garou grew up that's been very helpful for understanding who Garou is, what he saw, and making some sense of his powerful yet contradictory desires.

Ultimately Garou is Garou. He's his own person and the buck for his actions firmly stops with him. No matter what, I can't imagine him not being an independent thinker with the determination to put his thoughts into action.

But...

...the tragedy of his thinking becomes clear when we see his thinking of monsters as metaphors for what is misunderstood or unacceptable in ourselves (a popular enough one IRL where monsters aren't real) and compare it with the reality of his world in which monsters have won, successfully restricting humans to one continent, and people like heroes because they are reminders that sometimes, even apparently overwhelming evil can be defeated. Nothing good happens when you deny the reality around you.

You know Garou's rant about uniting the world with fear? It's a standalone rant in the webcomic. The manga gives us a snapshot of the context in which he came to this conclusion. As this is a place that is no stranger to natural disasters -- forget the monsters -- Garou has no doubt experienced at least one big storm, or flood, or earthquake, or volcanic eruption in his life. In those days and weeks that follow, he's no longer an outcast. Nobody cares about where you come from or who you are: people help each other. At least until normalcy is restored. That's something he's directly experienced.

That's just human nature: even in individualistic societies, for every report of looting in the wake of a natural disaster, there are hundreds of people trying to help. And this is a much more collectivist society that has to deal with disasters semi-regularly. That's the sense of looking out for each other in the face of a tragedy bigger than any person he wanted to recreate—only permanently.

Then we get bits of Garou through the people around him. We got nothing about his parents in the webcomic but in the manga, his parents refuse to see him or get him out of custody. They've given up on him. To make it worse, the audience ONE is writing for understands that Garou is a minor until he's 20 (the law recently changed in Japan but it wasn't even up for debate when ONE started writing OPM). So they've done the equivalent of washing their hands of a 16-year-old. That's got to have hit Garou very, very hard, even if he was estranged from them. He'd have liked it if his father cared enough to tell him what to do.

We see how Bang has literally taken on the role of in loco parentis. It's been interesting to see that the reason Bang has chased after Garou so relentlessly is because he sees himself in the young man. However, we also see that he deeply misunderstands Garou too. Bang beat up people because he was an extremely selfish young man who felt he was entitled to everything.

Garou beat up people because he is an extremely thoughtful young man who sees himself as bringing a great good into the world at the expense of some heroes.

It's definitely going to cause trouble but that's okay -- nothing in life is smooth and such differences are inevitable. With love, such struggles are worthwhile.

Garou's an object lesson in why the energy to do things in the world rarely comes with the power to make those changes. His overly simple solutions were disastrous. But one thing we can also say about Garou: he's a fast learner. He's literally rebuilding his life little by little in the webcomic by rebuilding the world around him. In the manga, he's been given the opportunity to sift through his thinking and find what's genuinely good. We'll see how it all shakes out.

[rollfordexterity]

wrote a statement fic in transcript format that takes place in The Entwined Archives, a tma au that myself and the wonderful @simcardiac-arrested came up with! the characters featured are their ocs and can be found on the askblog @dj-wayback. this au obviously is not canon compliant to the original askblog (and no, it's not really canon compliant to tma either, but there are a few minor spoilers). big spoilers for cream's askblog though. fic is under the cut, trigger warnings are listed below

List of content warnings: abuse, graphic animal abuse, animal experimentation, dehumanisation, unethical science, overworking and burnout, hallucinations, dissociation, migraines, shock (medical), burning, descriptions of death by immolation, toxic workplace environment, canon-typical Buried and Desolation content, slightly implied cannibalism (kinda), emetophobia, suffocation, gore, blood, memory loss

Stress Testing

INT. NEEDLESS SEPARATION’S SMALL FLAT - NIGHT, RAINING (TAPE RECORDER)

NEEDLESS SEPARATION

(slightly frantic, almost whispered) …Is this working? Good. I need to - I just - I have to record this somehow. I need to be sure of this. There’s something wrong, it’s all missing, I am all missing, and if I do not say this now it might go missing too. I don’t know what happened but it’s all gone.

[BEAT. THEY TAKE A MOMENT TO COMPOSE THEMSELF.]

I… my apologies. These are not the ramblings of a drunkard or a child with an overactive imagination, I swear it. My memory of these events is lacking, I will admit, but I know that something happened, even if I cannot prove it. I was perfectly healthy before, I would not just hallucinate this, no matter what the doctors may believe.

I should start at the beginning. This started… up to six months ago, I believe. Possibly longer. My sense of time is quite distorted now. At the time, I was fresh out of school, having just completed my Masters in Theoretical Physics. It was a competitive field, but I did eventually manage to find a position as a research assistant with the company Transcendent Life Labs. The job description was a little vague, but I applied anyway, and after an unexpectedly short interview process I was hired. It was mostly the standard interview fare, about work ethic and prioritisation, strengths and weaknesses, et cetera, but there were a number of more personal questions. Asking about my social life, my hobbies, that sort of thing. It did strike me as a little odd, but some workplaces do have a more casual atmosphere.

The supervisor I was assigned to was an accomplished scientist named Finite Waves. My position as their assistant meant that I worked directly with them at an isolated research facility for some time. There was barely anything for miles around and no roads, so I had to stay at the facility in a small room. I had few personal effects, but I did not mind so much given that I did not spend much time there anyway. As we were located quite far out, the lab’s surroundings were surprisingly untouched by people and I faintly recall thinking it was quite beautiful. The other researchers were generally affable, though I rarely interacted with them. Admittedly, the cafeteria food was... lacking, and usually a little burnt, but it was altogether not an unpleasant environment at first.

Finite Waves’ research was about critical phenomena in natural sciences. Critical points are a concept originally from thermodynamics: the point at which a liquid and a vapour can coexist. If you increase the pressure, the equilibrium is broken and the vapour will condense to a liquid. A simple comparison might be that friction can build up at a tectonic fault until it has to give, resulting in earthquakes. There is an idea in criticality that the brain might operate in a similar way in order to make itself more sensitive to certain inputs and stimuli, but prevents itself from completely reaching the critical point. Finite Waves wanted to study how the brain might be pushed past that critical point, how a complete and irreversible change might be induced.

Admittedly, this was not my area of expertise: I am a specialist in quantum mechanics and when I accepted the job offer I had assumed I would be assigned to a department where they were actually doing that. I certainly wasn’t expecting neuroscience. Then again, I do not recall my interviewer actually asking what I had studied. Nor can I remember, well, anything else about them. At the time, I simply accepted that I was lucky to have found a job, and that I should treat this as a learning experience. So in the weeks before my employment was due to begin, I read everything I could find on the subject. I was quite tired by the end, but I concluded that I had a reasonable base of knowledge and if I was missing something I could find out more later.

It turned out to be gruelling, tedious work, but I have always been an efficient researcher and in the beginning I even completed some tasks with time to spare. I used to carry a small sketchbook with me, an old, battered thing I’d used so much that one half of the cover was practically hanging off it, so once my work was finished I would take a break and spend some time drawing. At the time, I reasoned that this was perfectly acceptable — there was no work left, so it would not matter if I was doing this during my lab hours. It helped to alleviate some of the stress of the job, in any case. Finite Waves walked in while I was drawing once, and although he did not reprimand me for it, the look of disapproval he gave me was enough that I was sure to keep the sketchbook in my desk when I was not using it and I became more wary about listening for their footsteps when I was on a break.

However, as the… weeks? Months? As I said, I cannot remember how long I was there — as time passed, Finite Waves increased my workload, and I found that I had far less time for breaks. I started staying in the labs after hours, writing report after report. I was also assigned various tests to run, but they were exceedingly strange. Essentially, I was performing materials testing, looking for the aforementioned critical point at which various items were supposed to “change”. The methodology was somewhat unique, however.

To begin with, I could not understand why I was being given materials like the toys and shelters from the animal specimens’ pens, and it seemed like a waste since the tests I was being asked to run usually damaged or destroyed them. It always felt like I was killing them when that happened, though I could not explain why. They were just objects. Half of the equipment I was using looked like it would be better suited to an abattoir and the other half involved using natural materials to test factors like environmental degradation. On one memorable occasion, I had a small tub of swirling molten golden fluid that completely dissolved the chewed wicker toy I was testing. Finite Waves was in high spirits that day.

It was also unclear what results I was meant to be looking for — I am certain there was a reason for it, but perhaps I have forgotten it.

Finite Waves seemed quite certain about it though. I wondered if the methodology had been approved by an ethics board, especially given the… ah, conditions of the animals. While I was not testing anything on them directly, their health often worsened significantly with the removal of such items and they were not kept together despite being a social species. Many did not even have bedding in their cages. Their keeping and observation was not part of my responsibilities; Finite Waves observed them instead and I believe he was running some other tests that I was not involved in, but I know the creatures were pushed completely to the edge of stability. I certainly noticed symptoms such as fur loss, lack of appetite and sudden bouts of aggression on the few occasions that I had to enter the containment room.

As the project wore on, Finite Waves seemed more on edge, and I will admit his behaviour was disconcerting. Sometimes I would see him performing a dissection on one of those unfortunate specimens after hours, usually a rabbit. He always seemed… slow. Methodical and drawn out, in the way that one might savour a delicious meal. I never saw him smile, but I got the sense that he relished it nonetheless. No one else seemed particularly perturbed by this, so I chose to ignore it for the time being. You meet plenty of eccentrics in this field after all, and while it was a little sickening at times I could hardly ask him about it. Not when I felt as if when he looked at me, he was simply performing another dissection.

The work was exhausting. I did question it at times; what I was doing had moved far beyond the scope of the simple theoretical physics research I had expected, and likely had little to do with proper neuroscience as well. Finite Waves tended to keep me too busy to think about it much, though. I have never been one to shy away from work, but it was far more than I had ever had to do, even during my degree. Soon, I began losing track of time. I would begin a report at two, and come to my senses well into the night with no idea how long I had been sitting there and a splitting migraine that felt as if my head would melt from the pain. More than once, I forgot what day it was, and simply kept going through the motions in a fugue state with black spots at the edges of my vision. Other times, I would bury myself in work with feverish dedication, only to finally finish a report and instantly be overcome with a wave of burning pain. On the rare occasion that I ventured to the cafeteria, I found that everything I ate was bitter and chalky, more ash than food. Curiously, there never seemed to be anyone in there. I assumed it was simply that my hours were odd, and I could hardly focus on the minutiae like that. My mouth was always dry and I could barely stand. The few nights I spent in bed were sleepless, as I spent the entire time curled up with a fan activated to try and cool my searing skin and head. Working could usually distract me from it, though, or at least I felt that it was better to be in pain and doing something rather than sitting around in agony and accomplishing nothing, so I resorted to staying hunched over stacks of meaningless paperwork. My sketchbook went all but forgotten in the drawer of my desk.

I do not know how long this continued. The calendars in the facility blurred into the background until eventually they were gone altogether. Clocks seemed to melt when I looked at them, although this was likely because of the exhaustion impairing my vision and the blistering sensation behind my eyes. My senses constantly rebelled against me; every light was near-blinding, every footstep sounded like a scream. I went days without seeing anyone except for Finite Waves. Longer, maybe. It often felt as if the facility was entirely empty.

Eventually, this came to a head. The irony that I recall this part fairly well is not lost on me. It was one of the few brief moments of clarity I had. I think I could tell that something was off that night.

It was long past dark, so myself and Finite Waves were the only ones still in the main facility. For once, he had requested that I be present for one of his experiments. Although I’m sure I had worked there for some considerable time, it was highly unusual that I was there for any of his testing when it came to the animals themselves. When I entered the laboratory, I immediately noticed the bizarre setup. There was a rabbit with a couple of nodes attached to its head locked in a cage on the central table, frantically trying to dig. It looked at me for a moment, wide-eyed and piercing. Like it knew me. It was so emaciated I barely recognised it as an animal at first, all shivering skin and bones and eyes.

I wanted to run. I should have run. But Finite Waves stared at me and I felt rooted to the spot.

As I approached the table, the rabbit began digging again. Just digging. It scrabbled at the surface of the table as if it could claw its way through the steel, its mangled paws covered in oozing scabs and sores that had clearly been reopened. How long had it been digging? With a growing feeling of pressure behind my eyes and a little sick to my stomach, I watched as Finite Waves activated what looked like an elaborate heating element on the desk, emitting an oppressive warmth which worsened my now-pulsing headache. The pressure was starting to feel crushing — and then I looked back to the rabbit. It kept digging, no longer just frantic but frenzied. The steel table was heating up, causing its paws to blister and bleed, but it just wouldn’t stop digging. Finite Waves seemed indifferent to its struggle, motioning for me to start writing down whatever result he seemed to be getting from this torture. I complied.

I wrote it all down. I noted how the welts on the rabbit’s skin began to tear and ooze dark liquid that evaporated the second it hit the table, how the melting flesh pulled back to reveal a ribcage cracking under the strain of the quickly-mounting pressure that now descended over the room, how it heaved on the bloodstained soil that spilled from its mouth, how it just kept digging -

[THEY BREAK OFF WITH A GASP, TAKING A MOMENT TO SHAKE THE INCREASINGLY FRANTIC TONE.]

- how, when it finally collapsed with a horrible shriek, golden flowers bloomed from the grave that it dug itself and burst into flame from the scorching heat.

The lab was still. The heat and pressure did not abate, but for a second I hoped that it was over. It seemed so fragile, lying there on the table, still blistering and bleeding. The stench of burnt flesh and fur was overwhelming, and the intense heat emanating from the carcass only made my head feel like it was going to split open. I tried to speak, to scream, maybe, but no sound passed my lips. When I glanced towards Finite Waves, though, they looked furious. Trying to keep my composure, I turned back to face them properly, but I am sure they saw through it. The way they looked at me… it was like I was the one lying burned and broken on the steel slab.

They started to march around the room, rifling through desks — looking for something to salvage the experiment, I assumed, although I did not know what. I stayed in the middle of the room watching them. I am not certain what I was expecting to happen, but something deep within me wanted to bolt. Except for the sound of their footsteps on the tiled floor and the quiet crackle of the still-burning corpse, it was agonisingly quiet. Finally, they brandished a small, tattered book from a drawer. It took me far too long to realise what precisely they were holding, but before I could register the dread of seeing them clutching my sketchbook, it was far too late to do anything about it. They stalked back to the central table, and I could only stare in horror and confusion as they set it alight.

It felt like time itself was melting. I was stuck in that moment for ages, watching years of progress go up in flames. As he held my sketchbook in the fire, I saw the pages begin to bubble and blister — I barely understood it at the time, but I am now certain that the dark liquid that dripped from it was blood. I think I heard screaming. Perhaps it was mine, or the book itself. Watching the flames lick the sides of my sketchbook as the pages curled and writhed like tearing skin, I felt the ache behind my eyes become sharper, stabbing until it was scorching, incinerating every neuron and synapse and leaving nothing in its wake.

I cannot possibly convey the pain I felt with mere words. There are dozens of articles online on what happens to you when you burn, reporting every gory detail with morbid fascination, basking in the horror of how the capillaries burst, how the fat melts and how the muscles contract. I read every single one I could find. None of them felt like what happened to me. None of them could grasp how it feels for your brain to cook inside your skull.

I passed out, I think. When I came to, I was lying on the floor. A person whose name I regrettably no longer remember had put me into a safer position — I had gone into shock, apparently. They had been trying to call an ambulance. As it turns out, it is quite difficult for emergency services to reach a lab in the middle of nowhere. I don’t believe they were a coworker of mine; the Hawaiian shirt was hardly appropriate lab attire, but I am grateful for their presence nonetheless. Even if I did initially mistake them for Finite Waves in my confusion. Eventually, an Air Ambulance arrived and I was taken to hospital. My case completely baffled the doctors, as I was uninjured and they could not identify why I went into shock. Eventually, they concluded that I must have been severely dehydrated and gone into hypovolemic shock as a result, that I had just hallucinated all of… that.

I had to stay in hospital for several weeks to recover, but I did return to the research facility to collect my things and resign. Finite Waves was completely absent, and according to sign-in records, had not come in on the day of this incident, nor any day after that. No one recognised my description of the person who called the ambulance either. Aside from my own testimony, there was little to suggest anything had actually happened, save for the charred remains of my sketchbook unceremoniously tossed in a waste paper basket, covered in some dark, dried substance that seemed to have leaked from between the mutilated pages. I tried not to think about it too much.

I cannot shake the feeling that I should have felt more grief in that moment. I had spent a great deal of time perfecting my art, learning how to express rather than merely copy what I saw. And yet it was as if I had never seen it before in my life. I could remember nothing about the drawings within, or how I had done them. My sketchbook was unrecognisable, and all I felt was… empty. As if the very concept of art had burned to ash within me, and taken a part of me with it.

I left rather quickly after that.

Getting back on my feet has been challenging. A number of my possessions seem to be missing, including my phone and laptop, and it is not as if I have any connections at the moment. Even my emergency contact was missing, apparently. I have only vague memories of faceless people who were… perhaps my friends and family. There seems to be very little chance that I might get another job in scientific research — having to leave your last job after having a breakdown and claiming you were violently assaulted by a senior member of staff will do that to a CV.

I did have a stroke of luck, though. Recently, I left my flat to visit a nearby café, and while I was there I ran into a person named Cognitive Dissonance, who seemed to recognise me from… when I was an undergraduate, I think she said? The encounter as a whole was somewhat overwhelming, and I couldn’t remember her at all besides a faint echo of endearment, but the broad strokes seemed to be that we had done some kind of art workshop together and been fairly close. When I mentioned that I was out of work, she suggested I join her at a research job for some kind of paranormal investigations organisation. Fitting, really. I do not think I really have anything to lose at this point, and working for ghosthunters is better than becoming homeless. I was lucky my lease was still going, and my sick leave plus the astounding overtime I was apparently owed paid most of my various debts.

[BEAT. THEY SEEM TO SNAP OUT OF THEIR STORY.]

Ah, I… think that is all of it. My interview for the new job is tomorrow. With any luck, it won’t be such a disaster, and I will have something to do again. These days are getting unbearable with nothing to do except lay down with another wretched headache.

[TAPE RECORDER CLICKS OFF.]

INT. NEEDLESS SEPARATION’S SMALL FLAT - NIGHT, DRY (TAPE RECORDER)

[TAPE RECORDER CLICKS BACK ON.]

NEEDLESS SEPARATION

…I was unsure if I still had this. Wayback’s investigation into Finite Waves reminded me of it. Evidently, my younger self was right to record it: some of these details did disappear from my mind. I had forgotten about the flowers, for example. Hardly makes for a credible statement, but we are far past that point by now.

It is unusual to hear myself talk about Cognitive Dissonance, though. Although we did maintain a good relationship, I never recovered any memories of them and we did not spend much time together. There was so much work to do, of course. They did not remember a great deal of me either then, and now they certainly do not.

It has been several years since my incident now. I have not heard anything further from Transcendent Life Labs, nor Finite Waves. For the most part, I did put it out of my mind. Though I do occasionally wonder if I might have been able to do something. Perhaps if I had hidden my sketchbook better, or left it in my room… No. It is of little relevance.

[THEY COUGH, TRYING TO CHANGE THE TOPIC.]

In some ways, the work I do now is not so different to what I did back then; my job is still to explain and predict strange occurrences. I am just as efficient and hardworking as I ever was — more, even. It is not as if I have anything else to do on the job now. Without any distractions, I get far more done. More recently, I have endeavoured to make sense of these beings that we call Entities. My colleagues believe them inscrutable, but I cannot accept such a lacklustre answer. If these beings must feed, then it stands to reason that they are to some extent living, and can therefore be observed. Categorised. Understood.

It is then perhaps bitterly ironic that for all my tireless research, all those sleepless nights I have dedicated to unpicking the patterns that emerge from supernatural phenomena, I am yet to find a clear answer as to what happened to me, or why. I don't... perhaps it was just another form of test. Perhaps I will never understand at all. And my headaches are getting worse.

…I know something is wrong. My skin is cracked and peeling, and I cannot rid my mouth of the taste of ash. Weaving Tales attempted to send me home last week with a temperature, of all things. Hah.

[A CLIPPED, HUMOURLESS LAUGH.]

But it is of no concern. While these conditions are admittedly unpleasant, they are livable. Sometimes you have to deal with things you dislike to get any work done, after all. I cannot stop now.

[TAPE RECORDER CLICKS OFF.]

[kxttsstuff]

Survival-oriented special mechanisms Borrowers have evolved. (1)

(also called cool superpowers by humans…)

🐿️;; Borrowers have evolved different biological abilities that help them ensure their thrive through a world full of dangers. Among humans, these abilities could be considered superpowers on their own, but for them, they're their very own natural shields, weapons and tools against hardships.

👂🏻;; Enhanced hearing and smell, these two are incredibly important since they allow the borrower to detect nearby predators, track prey and smell poison in food. Their enhanced hearing allows them to speak in really quiet voices with each other and thus go unnoticed by humans or bigger animals. However this makes them sensitive to loud noise and strong smells like citrus scents, coffee, vinegar, mustard and tobacco. This also gives them a limited ability to predict the incoming weather. Some borrowers can even smell illnesses in people.

🐜;; Control of their own pheromones. Why do borrowers smell good? Because of this. They can control (to a very limited extent) their own scent, making them more difficult to track by smell, as well as smelling ‘friendlier’ to calm animals/bugs, or smell ‘horrible’ to at least try to ward off predators. At long exposure, a borrower is able to differentiate between human scents, recognizing who is about to come into the room and prepare for either a chitchat or to run away.

🌌;; Night vision. Borrowers see good (in green and blue shades) in low-light environments and at a moderate level in complete darkness. This is both evolved and inherited from their fae ancestors. This makes them sensitive to flashing lights though.

🧭;; Borrowers are expert navigators, not just because they're taught how to navigate, but they also have a very subtle ability to sense magnetic fields (like dogs and birds); they will always find North regardless where they are, and generally have a good spatial awareness and memory. This also gives them the uncanny ability to predict major disturbances like earthquakes or tsunamis, or just big storms a short time before they happen, to take shelter.

🐿️;; A pretty unique psyche gives them cool perks. Sure, borrowers are small and that is a big enough disadvantage. To compensate, borrowers are strong, they can lift up to five times their weight, which isn't much in numbers, but is extremely useful to carry things that are heavy.

(actually missed some stuff so I'll be continuing~)

[emyluwinter]

This thought has been bothering me for the devil knows how long.

Alright-alright.

Listen.

Sage Island is located in the middle of the sea, right?

They are not close to the North, so the climate there is definitely not cold as I think. And that means…

How often will Sage Island be exposed to different typhoons-tsunamis and various storms? Earthquakes?

Are Sage Island near any volcanoes nearby? Active or sleeping? Is there movement nearby in tectonic Earth plates?

Based on my knowledge, some islands definitely go through this nightmare at certain times of the year.

The same "Rainy Seasons" in summer as in Korea and Japan. Or other island countries and states. (If someone enlightens me about smaller Asian countries and cultures, I will send a universal blessing to you!) I will explain to those who do not know this season begins presumably with the beginning of June and ends either in early July or in the middle. About a month or a month and a half there is a very depressing humidity and constant rains from time to time. (Humidity can reach up to 70%!!)

So….If the Night Raven College is surrounded by a magical barrier. And it is definitely higher than the port town and the RSA. (how they haven't been flooded and washed away yet is a mystery to me. Because the NRC is on the mountain. And the RSA is at sea level. Maybe a couple of meters higher to slow down the destruction of the foundation due to the encirclement of sea waves. I wonder if their premises are protected from mold and mildew?)

Does magic protection also work for weather or natural conditions?

For example, are college classes canceled if there is a threat of a typhoon or heavy rains?Tsunami threats?

Do the senior courses of the second and third year participate as a voluntary aid to the Port Town when natural hazards or problems come? (although, rather, these are additional mandatory classes for training how to act in certain critical situations. Based on the information in Chapter 6, students are necessarily taught this in their curriculum)

Perhaps there are different magical units specializing in this work! It would be great to see how students make various fortifications in the city, help citizens and ordinary people with their magic. Create separate group projects, perhaps magic items? to reduce the possibility of damage or danger to local residents. Senior courses - more complex magic formulas, spells, structures and strategies. Volunteers (or rather workers) from junior courses perform simpler but nevertheless important work.

From here, you can also increase the reputation of the college and magicians. Director Crowley is definitely listening to me now and recording everything. Ahaha.

Also, animals are more sensitive to weather changes. Beastmen or Merfolk, fairies would definitely be very tense and were all on pins and needles because of the impending severe weather!

Let's say if there are typhoons and all students are asked not to leave the dorms until the end of the natural threat….

Then imagine what a nightmare it would be for Yuu and Grimm at the beginning of life in TWST The Onboro building was held on the thin hope of the Yuu that they would not be crushed by the wreckage of an old unkempt building.

The roof looks like a colander with some it is hardly even possible to say "salvation" from the weather. Several retaining beams in the attic collapsed and pierced through the attic floor.

Grimm, starting from the very warning about the typhoon, looks like a tangle of nerves and anxiety. And he is unable to remove it or calm down, because he instinctively seeks refuge or wants to escape somewhere safe. Even if it's under Yuu's T-shirt, curled up like a bagel on their stomach.

Perhaps Yuu is asking the teachers to spend the night at least in a more fortified dining room next to the fireplace. With the wild howling of the wind, they will definitely not be able to sleep even despite all their efforts. (Although I am more inclined to the version that when Crewel and Train see Yuu and Grimm completely without any strength because these two could not sleep because of the storm and the onslaught of bad weather outside…. The Director is waiting for a very harsh and long conversation.)

By the way, are there any "forbidden" places on the Twst world map damaged due to magical wars, or phantoms? Remember the same Titans from Chapter 6. Their destruction and consequences should be simply terrifying.

Neither magicians nor people are allowed to enter or even approach such places. I'm also interested in the fact that phantoms leave poisonous miasma. How dangerous is it for living beings?

Oh so many questions..

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Reflective Clarity || 1/5

Fandom: Xmen

Warnings: Kidnapping (thought not really heavily described), lots of emotional angst

Wordcount: 2579

Summary: Miranda has gone missing, and Kurt takes that about as well as anyone would when their partner goes missing. Gambit also feels some kind of way about it. --------------- She had to be somewhere. It had been a week since anyone had seen Miranda, and with the growth she had been going through it made no sense for her to disappear to the point where Wolverine couldn't pick up her scent. Gambit was hidden in a back alley of the city, mindlessly fiddling with one of the cards from his deck as he was deep in thought about this whole situation, perching like a gargoyle on a nearby building just to brood about it. Kurt had been absolutely beside himself the whole week, and Gambit couldn't exactly blame him. He was worried about her too, because he knew in the depth of his heart that she would never deliberately put Kurt through such emotional turmoil; she loved him far too much for that. So she had to be somewhere, the real question was figuring out who had her and where they kept her-

Why was the ground trembling?

As soon as the voice in his head brought that up, Gambit looked down to see fracture lines on the ground that were far too neat and uniform for it to be a natural earthquake; so that only left for one other option. Slowly following the lines back to their source, it came as no surprise to him to find Lance standing near an abandoned property- what was a surprise was to find the other mutant radiating absolute livid rage that was causing the tremors and the cracks.

"Alvers," Gambit started carefully, approaching him like one would a wild animal snared in a beartrap, "mind telling me what you're causing such a scene for?"

"Oh, nothing an X-men like you would give a shit about," the leader of the Brotherhood growled at him, his brown eyes appearing even darker as anger boiled within, "but if you must know, someone fucking went and kidnapped Pietro."

"Maximoff??" Gambit responded, while not entertaining Lance's previous stab in the slightest. No, that was an actual problem. There were many people who would love to get their hands on Pietro Maximoff, either for the idea that they could somehow get to Magneto that way or because the lightning fast reflexes of the speedster were incredibly enticing to those with ill intentions. And it was exactly because of that speed that there were very few actually capable of capturing him.

"How long ago?"

"A week, now."

"... I don't like where this is going," Gambit huffed, glad the ground had stopped shaking after Lance spoke of his problem, "Miranda went missing the exact same time. Information exchange sound good to ya?"

Lance seemed to soften a little at that, remembering her from the masquerade party. Dark eyes met red ones, as Gambit held a hand out; Lance's eyes darted to the hand, thinking for a moment before he looked back at Gambit and shook his hand with a sigh.

"Not much to tell on my end, yet. Someone somehow managed to kidnap Pietro; I'm not even sure how- He isn't exactly easy to grab so they either disabled his ability somehow or they managed to bottleneck him into a trap which isn't easy to pull off. Obnoxious loudmouth he may be, but he's as fast as a hummingbird with the spacial awareness of one to boot."

"Oui. Miranda might not be such a powerhouse; but she is sensitive to intention and vanishes on sight at the mere sensation of danger. I won't say she is as hard to nab as Maximoff; but I do know she fights to the death if she needs to, so they really got their hands on two mutants who shouldn’t be easy to grab. And I don't know about you, but their combined ability set? Speed, invisibility? I don't like the idea of anyone tampering with either."

Lance nodded in agreement, looking out over the field in thought and frowning while the wheels in his head were turning.

"It's not the FOH. They don't have the skillset or the audacity to go after Pietro, and they don't have the luck needed to trap your invisible woman when she's well aware to look out for them. I hate to say it, but this feels like a Sinister scheme more than anything else. Surely he would love to fuck around with either speed, invisibility, or both."

Gambit's heart sank way deep down at that; he hated that Lance had an absolute valid point there. He looked up from the ground when he felt two eyes stare at him; the dark brown eyes of his conversational partner that were suddenly blazing fierce with determination.

"Lucky you; I have eyes and ears all over this city. Neither Pietro nor Miranda are truly high profile enough for Sinister to bother with them himself, no matter how useful they are. The guy's actual obsession is with Scott Summers to a degree that even makes me feel sorry for the laser eyed bastard," he cracked his knuckles, his eyes flicking back to where they had been staring before, "if one of his clusters of henchman has them though, I will find them. And when I do, you're bringing the fucking cavalry in, understood?"

"I thought you didn't like our help?" Gambit said with a smirk

"I don't, but with Pietro gone I'm down an easy escape plan on my team, and I dont feel much for handing Todd and Fred on a silver platter to Sinister- Which leaves me by my lonesome," Lance remarked, rolling his head back over to Gambit, "surely the X-men have some agile powerhouses to spare, especially if he's got his hands on one of your own. Something tells me you'll show up anyway, so bring a few buddies along, will you? Preferably some that won't give a shit if I bring the building down to the ground in the process." That conversation with Lance had been a few days ago now, and Gambit had waited with baited breath to hear back from the Greek while the Cajun searched around town for more clues himself. On one such an outing his communication went off; a call from outside the normal ones as he had conveniently lost a pair or two of the comms to the brotherhood. What Scott didn’t know didn’t hurt him, really.

“Oui?”

“Told you I would find them,” Lance replied in an easy voice, though Gambit swore there was something boiling underneath; something he knew for sure he never wanted to be on the opposite end of, “I’ll send you the coordinates as soon as I leave this call. Grab a small group of people and get your ass over there as fast as you can; we’re going to get our friends out of the damn claws of Sinister.” “-And that’s when I went to you,” Gambit concluded, having recounted most of the thing to the people with him in the meeting room at the mansion even if he had left out some details here and there. He looked around the room, with Scott looking like he was about to have a serious migraine about the whole ordeal. “We have no choice but to send a team to a guy I’d rather not deal with because Alvers is an unguided projectile at the best of times, and more importantly, we do need to get Miranda back. We’ll need a few people, and there is a lot of people I genuinely don’t want to send on this mission; either because I don’t want them near Sinister or because getting in Alvers’ way when he’s about to bring down the building through his earthquakes is a whole other level of dangerous,” and as Scott stopped speaking he looked around the room to the people there, “Gambit and I have already discussed who we’re going to bring. Ebak?” The auburn haired man looked up as soon as his name was mentioned, a light nod indicating that he was listening “We can’t bring you, or anyone from your team. None of you are prepared and trained enough to deal with a threat like Sinister.”

“Be that as it may, Miranda is supposed to be my responsibility and she is my friend. You really want me to tell my whole team they can’t save her, when everyone in my corner is well aware of how scared she is of being left behind? You think that’s going to go over well?” “Please,” Scott insisted, “let us deal with this; let us bring her back. Sinister is not someone to be trifled with, and a lot of people on your team have powers I shudder to think about him having his cloning hands on.” “Mhh,” Ebak hummed seemingly in agreement, but his eyes slowly drifted off to the man next to him. Kurt’s tail was anxiously flicking around, and after silently observing that for a moment Ebak looked back at Scott, “who do you plan on taking along for this dangerous mission?” “Myself, to distract Sinister as he’s mostly obsessed with me, anyway,” Scott sighed, before listing of the others, “and with myself included I am only sending four on this mission. The others are Beast, Storm, and Gambit. I need someone with medical knowledge in case things go wrong, I need myself and Storm as offense. And I need Gambit both because he got Alvers involved who won’t be happy if the one he discussed this with doesn’t show up, and to get in and out of the building to get-”

His sentence was interrupted by a loud slam; of Kurt’s fist hitting the table. A growl left the blue mutant before he got up abruptly and vanished in a cloud of smoke. Silence filled the room, that Gambit eventually broke with a soft sigh as he left the room to go and find Kurt. “… He’s not taking this well,” Scott said with a small sigh as well

“Neither would I,” Ebak replied, “if you told me I’m not going to be part of the mission meant to rescue my partner.” Kurt came across Rogue in the hallway, ignoring her call for him as he just vanished and teleported to the outside of the mansion in short bursts. He leaned back on the wall near the front doors, shutting his eyes to try and keep his tears at bay as a swirling vortex of emotions raged through his chest. They weren’t going to take him with them; he wasn’t going to be there when the team saved Miranda, and he swore it was going to shatter his heart into a billion pieces that this was how he was going to lose her- “Hey-“ came a voice from his right, and with how quick he looked up Kurt saw it was Gambit who had followed him outside. He couldn’t help it, there was too much noise in his head and swirling around in his chest that even the singular word of the Cajun set him off

“You’re not doing this to me again!” he roared, his anger pouring out with no stop,  “None of you are going to tell me to stay here; fucking take me along with the group! Why am I not allowed to save Miranda?! She needs me, do any of you even understand the gravity of that?!”

“Of course I do! But bringing you to Sinister when your emotions are already running this high and this frayed?!” Gambit retorted, not reacting to the hissing snarl that left Kurt or the fangs he was showing, “Non. As much as you want to come along, and as much as I would love to bring you and a bunch of other people along, we can’t risk that, not when it’s Sinister we’re up against!” “That’s easy for you to say, you wouldn’t fucking let anyone hold you back from saving Shadow if it were her life on the line!” and with that Kurt slammed his fist hard against the side of the building, not even reacting to the searing pain that shot through his hand as he did so because it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart as he finally snarled at the top of his lungs; “Scott is making a fucking liar out of me!”

At such a loud call of his voice, even Rogue made her way outside to figure out what the hell was going on, and upon the sight of his sister Kurt’s yellow eyes rapidly filled up with tears that he could only barely keep from spilling over, tail tucking between his legs as the rage made way for deep seated fear instead. He continued, his voice shaky from the emotions that clung to every syllable.

“She is alone, Gambit; the one thing she never wanted to be. I once promised her that unless I was incapacitated, I would always come get her. She- I- don’t make me go back on that promise-“

“Kurt,” Gambit interrupted, placing a gentle and supportive hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Nothing about any of this makes you a liar. We just can’t risk you going in with no regard for your own safety to get her back; Miranda wouldn’t want you to risk your wellbeing like that either, she loves you more than anything.” Gambit was right; but that didn’t make how reminiscent this was of him trying to help Vivian sting any less. And this situation was far worse, because instead of just trying to help another mutant escape from the clutches of the FOH he now couldn’t manage to help save- Kurt looked at the abrasion on his hand from where it had collided with the mansion wall so harshly, the words Gambit had spoken rattling in his brain louder and louder and ringing all the more true.    Something deep within tried to bend one more time, and it gave out under the strain like a house of cards caving in. The tears poured relentlessly down Kurt’s face while mangled sobs left his body. Gambit threw one glance at Rogue who didn’t really seem to know how to react to her brother falling apart like this as the roles between them were so often reversed instead. So Gambit reacted instead, closing the gap between him and Kurt and pulling him into a hug as he felt the other desperately clutching onto the fabric of his long coat- while Gambit slowly closed his arms around him.

“Bring her back to me,” Kurt whimpered into Gambit’s shoulder, his voice as broken and shattered as his heart was, “please, just bring her back to me.”

“I will. I promise.” And time on that was running out; Gambit couldn’t afford to linger any longer. He tossed another look at Rogue, who gave a quiet nod and stepped in. She lightly placed a gloved hand on Kurt’s shoulder, the blue mutant immediately looking up to her and letting out a soft, absolutely heartbroken whine. Gambit slowly let go of his friend, while Rogue immediately pulled her brother into a protective hug; letting him burrow his face into her shoulder instead as she softly and soothingly ran her hand over his back. With that, the Cajun plucked the car keys out of his pocket and left his friends there to disappear into Honda that Wolverine drove and took off himself. As the car quickly vanished onto the horizon, Kurt whimpered once more

“I want her back.”

“I know, sugar. They’re gonna bring her home; I swear.”

[myhauntedsalem]

8 Different Empaths

Empaths are highly sensitive individuals, who have a keen ability to sense what people around them are thinking and feeling.

1. Physical empath

Physical empathy is when you’re attuned to other people’s physical symptoms and you tend to absorb them into your own body. This goes beyond naturally contagious gestures, like laughter and yawning. If your friend is in the throes of a screamingly painful migraine headache then expect to feel tension in your temples as well. You can also be energized by someone else’s sense of well being. Physical empaths might be wise to get themselves a dedicated gym buddy.

2. Emotional empath

An emotional empath is someone who picks up on the emotions of others. This can be lovely in effect, like when your friend gets a promotion and you can feel their happiness. However, emotional empaths can get truly exhausted by friends who are constant complainers who dwell in the negative, or narcissists who suck up all the attention and never reciprocate when they’re feeling down. Emotional empaths tend to be the first people to get drained by emotional vampires. So make sure to practice self care and learn how to differentiate other people’s emotions from your own.

3. Intuitive empath

Emotional empathy is often a component of being an intuitive empath without it being the defining factor. Intuitive empaths generally can sense the unspoken in terms of what’s going on, and that can encompass many qualities. Emotional empaths simply pick up the emotions of others, but an intuitive empath can sense the unspoken in terms of what’s going on. Think of it as having a very thorough, almost holistic kind of superpower. Intuitive empaths experience extraordinary perceptions, such as heightened intuition, messages in threes, animal and plant communication, as well as pick up other people’s emotions.

4. Dream empath

Dream empaths can receive intuitive information from dreams that helps themselves and others. That’s because these types of empaths are typically gifted at clearly remembering dreams. They are able to source wisdom from a deceased relative. A dream empath is also someone who’s able to read between the lines and tease meaning from their own dreams and those of others.

5. Psychometric empath

These empaths feel their connection with inanimate objects, receiving energy, impressions, and information from various belongings such as photographs, clothing, jewelry, furniture and more. It is said that everything we interact is infused with our energy, and while most find no difference with inanimate objects, Psychometric Empaths believe that an object can tell a story.

6. Plant empath

If you’re a plant empath, you can accurately feel the needs of plants and connect with their essence. People who wilt with their blooms and drink with their succulents aren’t just the best Plant Moms ever, They also probably make for great people friends. One of the benefits of being a plant-lover is that offering tenderness to saplings may help you become more compassionate in other areas of life.

7. Earth empath

Earth empaths are rocking a similar vibe to the plant empaths in that both have their hearts tuned to nature. But while your garden-variety plant empath is more attuned to indoor ferns, earth empaths more so relate to what’s going on with the whole universe. The earth empaths are attuned to changes in our planet and our solar system and the weather, so let’s say there’s an earthquake. They can sometimes feel it beforehand or if the Amazon forest is being ravaged, it feels like pain in their body.

8. Animal empath

Animal empaths are the people who are always hanging with the pet at the party. They have a special connection with animals in that they can often feel their needs and communicate with them in a soothing manner. They cannot stomach any violence toward animals.

[winxbutbetterimo-ovo]

Flora long ver 1

(some stuff is from the fan wiki i just tweaked)

Name: Flora Anabille Rosales

Looks: muscular legs and arms because she likes to not use magic to grow her favourite plants often. tan-skinned, with long 3a brunette with dirty blond highlights that has bangs framing on either side of her face where the blonde streaks are most apparent, with a single small hair strand sticking up and narrow green-jade eyes.

Relationships: Her soulmate is Helia and she is the closest with Aisha and Techna (they love studying together and info-dumping about their interests). Chatta is her bonded pixie.

She shines in her normal, charmix, Enchantix and Sophix forms the most.

Personality: Nerd, kind, a little anxious. She can feel the life force of plants AND summon animals??? healer , potionology goat. mom friend. Flora is very calm, soft-spoken, caring, sweet, shy and genuine girl who loves plants and vegetation of all kinds. Being interested in experimenting with her plants, Flora became the potion master of the group who specialises in brewing and creating remedies and medicines from the uses of her magical plants. Due to that, she has a full scholarship to Alphea. Her gentle and caring personality, Flora is strongly connected to nature and loves helping people. She is shown to have a sensitive personality to the point where she would instinctively care for her friends as well as her plants when they are in distress.

Flora is the most mature member of the Winx as she possesses a deep sense of love, peace, happiness and tranquillity. However, it is shown that Flora has an insecure side to her personality, sometimes causing her to hide most of her feelings to the point where she would have problems expressing them. Flora is one of the most diligent students at Alfea and is cautious of her actions. Although she has a kind-hearted side, She is very responsible and a mediator. She doesn't hold grudges coz it's a waste of energy and time, so when she is mad at you (or her enemies), she is reALLY mad and shows a more aggressive side of herself.

As an older sister, she is shown to be quite overprotective, often forgets that people are mature and can protect themselves. Miele often has to deal with this side of Flora. In which case, Flora has demonstrated some level of ignorance as this attitude tends to hurt Miele's feelings.

History: She was born in Linphea to Alyssa and Rollos. she had 5 years to herself before Miele was born. She loved Miele the moment she laid eyes on her and took it on herself to be her protector from then on. which results in her overprotectiveness. other than that as nice as her parents were, they were a little passive in their parenting style, which led flora to learn their temperment, but actively take others under her wing.

Powers: Her magic is green in colour. As the Fairy of Nature, she has nature-based powers. Flora can generate, grow, and control various vegetation, but she mainly uses vines for defensive moves such as creating barriers, entangling opponents, and supporting heavy objects. Aside from her vines, she is often seen controlling flowers to use as diverse attacks using pollen and dust to provide distractions, producing swirls of petals/leaves, conjuring food (namely fruits/vegetables), altering the growth plants such as growing a tomato crop from an already existing tomato, and even summoning animals.

her strength relies on her surrounding environment and requires her to be at one with nature. Flora is able to hear the voice of nature speaking to her, more so than in anyone. Rather, she is able to use her magic to listen to the voice of the forest. This skill can be a disadvantage at times, as the destruction of nearby nature will cause excruciating pain to her and weaken her own self and her ability to focus her magic properly, even her flight.

Flora in terms of elemental power represents earth which she displays by setting off earthquakes and smashing a boulder with her mind. Her source of power is life itself. She also has a connection with the air being capable of using plants to absorb smoke and produce oxygen, and producing fragrances that can be used to repel an enemy or calm them down. Flora has developed the ability to physically heal other beings mostly after they have experienced a recent trauma, when spells dont work she also mixes potions to heal people. Flora will also develop the ability to alter the seasons.

[cyberrat]

87th Batch Of Fics: 12th Fill

Alastor/Husk – Part 2/2 – hate sex; heat sex – Even when getting hate fucked Alastor somehow manages to get out on top? What's that about?

---

Alastor isn’t like them. He isn’t like those horny masses, those animals that can’t walk three steps without thinking about when they might be able to get their next gratification from. He is better than them. He does not need any of these trappings, his mind is clear, he can scheme and plan and not be bound to any base urges that will trip him up because of unnecessary feelings.

Except when he’s in heat, he absolutely, definitely is one of them. He realizes that every time anew. It’s so easy to forget when he is two months out of heat and he crushes Husker beneath his heel for something-or-other.

But it’s also so easy to be reminded of it when he is speared on the barbed cock of his kitty cat and fucked so fast and so hard that tears of overstimulation are itching at the corners of his eyes and his whole body is burning up with desperate, pathetic need.

A need that he doesn’t usually feel. Only when his own biology is betraying him. When his insides produce so much slick that it is seeping through his clothes, and his skin becomes so sensitive that it feels like it will soon split open to let everybody see his tender, swollen insides.

He’s whining as Husker fucks him; punched out and high-pitched with sharp static making it warble every now and then – but Husk has no empathy for his distress. There is not a word of comfort, nor a gentle lick grooming his hair after it’s been left horribly disheveled from Husk’s harsh grip.

No, all Husker does is to fuck him even harder. He’s rammed his claws into the soft wood of the bar right next to Alastor’s scrabbling fingers and is digging them in deeper and deeper by the minute. His voice is deep and strained sounding, fucking him in bone rattling, teeth-clacking thrusts that rush through Alastor’s body like the tremors of an earthquake.

“Take it-” Husker’s voice is growling right next to Alastor’s ear. It sends sharp, brittle tremors of arousal down his spine and makes his deer tail press harder against the cat’s lower stomach. “Take my fuckin’ cock you goddamn asshole- Take it and shut the fuck up for once in your miserable, grinning afterlife-”

He keeps fucking Alastor as he spews his filth. The hate radiating off of Husker is palpable, and yet all it manages to do is twist Alastor up into a tighter, needier ball of arousal. He feels like prey at the mercy of the predator and that’s such an insanely new and exciting feeling that he literally can’t help how his cock dribbles with submissive need and his insides squeeze down on Husk tight enough to make him grunt and rear back his head.

“That doin’ it for you, you freak?” the other grits out through his teeth. “You get off on someone finally showing you your damn place?!”

Husker rams in harder, bruising Alastor’s hips against the rounded edge of the bar and forcing a rough cry of distress out of the radio demon. He couldn’t even say where it came from. It just sounds so… guttural, even to his own ears, as his heart pumps hard and fast in his chest all of a sudden. It’s like Husker finally found the right button to push, though Alastor couldn’t say what exactly that button was.

From how Husker remains quiet for a second, he seems to be just as confused as the other, though he gathers himself far quicker than Alastor could in his current sorry state that he finds himself in.

He makes a sound of disgust, his chest pressing against Alastor’s back as he picks up his thrusts again. With every outward motion the fine barbs on his cock fan open and make his shaft feel immediately double as big as it actually is.

It’s going to drive Alastor insane. His fur is standing on end, his insides squeezing down desperately, trying to milk the feline cock but unable to really get a good grip on it due to its… unique traits. It’s thoroughly frustrating and, paired with the fact that Husker does not give a single fuck about his pleasure and comfort, exactly what Alastor needs in that moment.

He keens softly, his body still trying to endear himself to the old tomcat. What he is rewarded with are Husker’s teeth in the back of his neck, digging in where his fur starts in earnest and giving him a sharp point of pain to focus on.

His hips snap against Alastor, intent on fucking the attitude out of him, he is sure… if only Husk knew that what he is doing is feeding right into the radio demon’s ego.

If he can’t work against his own body’s pitiful biological needs, then Alastor will simply move with the punches. He closes his eyes, a trembling grin on his face as he curls his hands around Husker’s wrists and holds on for dear life. He attempts to somewhat pull away from the scruffing bite the tomcat has on him, though only to feel him slice into his skin and draw blood.

Husk, as expected, just goes along with it. It must feel to him as if his prey has capitulated in the face of his assault. Like he’s caught himself a nice little deer in heat and will be able to go in for the kill at any moment now.

His hips smack against Alastor’s ass in a fast staccato. If it weren’t for their fur, he is sure that it would produce quite the filthy background noise. In lieu of the fast plap plap plap, the air is filled with Husk’s low, angry growls – as well as the wet sounds of his cock drilling Alastor deep and desperate.

An absolute shame that he would have to debase himself thusly – but goodness the feeling of Husk’s cock reaming his passage, swollen and oversensitive with heat… Alastor could almost understand why so many of these imbeciles are slaves to their own bodily needs.

“Take it. T-Take it- fuck-”

Alastor closes his eyes, drool and blood trailing down his chin. His muscles ache from the manic grin stretched over his face and yet he makes himself talk anyway: “Sir, please- more!”

It’s a genius stroke on his part, of course. He can feel Husker’s hips stuttering as he briefly loses his own rhythm, then hisses low, vile expletives under his breath. He stops clutching at the bar and instead wraps his arms around Alastor’s waist, holding him in a tight, near inescapable grip as he grinds his cock into the tight, wet clutch of his hole.

He bites him again when he comes, teeth piercing through Alastor’s shoulder and pushing him over the edge as well.

It is absolute bliss… finally being able to release this pressure that had been driving him up the walls of his own domain for the past hours.

His eyes roll up into his skull, his tail trembling where it is pressed against Husker’s stomach. Husk is growling in triumph – but it is Alastor who is smiling.

[schismusic]

On June 13th the Biografilm Festival in Bologna hosted the world preview of Uzeda: Do It Yourself by documentary director Maria Arena. Apart from the fact that calling it a "world preview" implies a level of attention to the movie that we could define as slightly oversold to the unwitting audiences, I was one of the expectant ones, having been following the project ever since it started its crowdfunding campaign. Much to my surprise, the campaign actually did grant enough money to proceed with the production. The reason why I'm so surprised has nothing to do with the actual quality of the output, including the short excerpts they were, at the time, already posting on social media — more on this later, but the gist of it is: it's great and we knew it. That is exactly why I was so worried at first: such a good project, with high production values for an independent documentary, about a band that just about no one gives a fuck about in Italy save for a very passionate ten or so people? I was afraid that, despite all my best hopes, the crowdfunding would barely scrape by at best.

I have never been happier to be proven wrong.

According to what Maria Arena herself said after the showing, the doc had been in the making (and I mean in the actual making, as in Arena was already going around Catania with the band shooting video of them and of PJ — a musicologist from UCLA who wrote a whole ass PhD dissertation about lo-fi and independent rock) as far back as 2016. Leonardo Sciascia would have probably argued that such an endeavour is "very Sicilian", which of course reflects very well on the approach taken by Uzeda themselves. For starters, the band name. The Duke of Uceda — Italianized into "Uzeda", of course, and take a deep breath before you go on — Juan Francisco Antonio Alonso María José Domingo Pacheco y Téllez-Girón was the one to reconstruct Val di Noto after the 1693 earthquake and subsequent Etna eruption which destroyed the city of Catania. Of course, the southern gateway into the city of Catania itself is also named Porta Uzeda. If that wasn't enough, on more than one occasion the band themselves, and especially drummer Davide Oliveri, the band noted how growing up where they did proved crucial to their music. It was pretty special (for me, but I assume for him as well) to see Davide be complimented, on the site of the showing, by a literal eightysix-year-old from Syracuse, Sicily.

That's what gets me: this isn't exactly music you would show your grandfather, per se. I know I wouldn't show it to mine, for example. And yet this dude waltzed into a projection room and still managed to pull some relevant insight out of the proverbial top hat. Call it genius loci, gut-feeling intuition, shared sensitivity informed by coexistence or, simply, good predisposition. This eightysix-year-old gets Uzeda, possibly much deeper than you or I ever will. Which I guess stands as a testament to what it means to do what you like, to stick to your guns and yet at the same time to find a way to stand within the grooves of consummate professionalism. Uzeda are all trained musicians, and this is a very important distinction to make in the context of punk and punk-adjacent music. Throughout the film the band insist on how studying with someone, learning to play music from someone else was a crucial experience that did not in any way, shape or form stop them or prevent them from playing exactly the music they wanted. Meeting a band like Bastro at a festival in Berlin was an opportunity to unlock a new style of music to play; churning scales over and over throughout the whole fretboard led Agostino Tilotta to start looking for what he himself calls "non-scales", if anything. And studying with other musicians certainly gave the rhythm section of this band an impulse to professionalism: Oliveri, at the very least, worked as a composer for an animated musical and as a songwriter on Gianna Nannini's Aria album; Raffaele Gulisano, bassist, also doubles as a high school teacher, while Tilotta and Cacciola choose not to make of this music their own profession.

Tilotta especially is often framed by Arena, or her director of photography whose name I don't remember off the top of my head, like a Sergio Leone character: a unique face capable of powerful expressions standing in stark contrast to and at the same time in perfect complementarity with the surrounding environment. This brings to mind how Leone himself would cast extras based solely on their faces, without really asking them to act. I can only imagine just how dazzling, for a director such as Arena, or for any director really, it must have been to have someone with a face like Tilotta's to work with. And with his endeavor: the man is a riot, a one-man show. The legendary Albini skit about Fake Italian makes a whole lot more sense when you hear Tilotta himself speak his ornate, calculated English.

But of course Uzeda is almost inseparable from their own Steve Albini connections. The single opening credit of the movie ("To Steve") hits incredibly harder than expected. According to Arena and her editor, the movie was left untouched even after May 8th, 2024: a testament to poignant editing and beautiful personalities. Oliveri spent a good five minutes constantly underlining just how profoundly good, kind, approachable, just how much of a friend Albini had been to them since the very earliest days working together — and just how much of a void he leaves behind in the wake of his passing. And of course I believe their friendship stems from a number of core values the band and their producer — rather, engineer, as he would have preferred — shared, chief amongst them the idea that one must persist. Like I said in my Joy Division post, and just like Coil and Israel Regardie. The capability to stay true to one's self implies understanding that there is no one-self to abide by except the one present at any given time.

As for the band themselves? Well, they were with Shellac on May 26, 2015. And that's not the sort of show you can ever complain about. Go watch this fucking movie when it's out.

[anumberofhobbies]

Rats' brain waves could find trapped people

By Emily Singer

22 September 2004

Rats equipped with radios that transmit their brainwaves could soon be helping to locate earthquake survivors buried in the wreckage of collapsed buildings.

Rats have an exquisitely sensitive sense of smell and can crawl just about anywhere. This combination makes them ideal candidates for sniffing out buried survivors. For that, the animals need to be taught to home in on people, and they must also signal their position to rescuers on the surface.

In a project funded by DARPA, the Pentagon’s research arm, Linda and Ray Hermer-Vazquez of the University of Florida in Gainesville have worked out a way to achieve this.

...  Signals from the rat’s brain will be relayed to a radio transmitter pack strapped to the animal’s back, which Chapin is developing. Rescuers will be able to follow the rat’s position by tracking these signals. They are also developing software that will recognise the “aha!” moment when the rat has found its target, so rescuers will know where to start digging. The team hope to create a working system within nine months.

Other teams looking at ways to seek people trapped under debris have designed wheeled, tracked or even snake-like robots that can slither into wrecked buildings (New Scientist print edition, 10 November 2001).

But rats have several advantages. “Artificial noses don’t work well when there are other smells around,” says Christiane Linster, an olfaction expert at Cornell University in New York. “Rats are good at that.” Rats are also adept at navigating over unexpected obstacles, and of course they do not need an electricity supply.

Rescue teams welcome the idea. “It would be absolutely fantastic,” says Julie Ryan of International Rescue Corps in Scotland, which flies rescuers to disaster zones around the world. “A rat could get into areas and spaces we couldn’t get to. And a rat would try to get out if it didn’t feel safe.”

https://www.newscientist.com/article/dn6429-rats-brain-waves-could-find-trapped-people/

Imagine being buried alive and then seeing this little guy with a backpack suddenly arrive

[lifechanyuan]

Xuefeng Preaching Tao (1)

Xuefeng

May 13, 2008

(Translation edited by Jiejing)

Tao is the consciousness of the Greatest Creator, the driving force behind the movement and transformation of all things in the universe. It is the lifeblood of the universe, it is nature, and the synthesis of all laws.

Tao possesses eight characteristics: holographic order, eternal reliability, instantaneous sensitivity and adaptability, transcendence over time and space with no interior or exterior, spirituality, justice, non-obstruction, and illusory yet actual existence.

The first characteristic of Tao: Holographic Order.

The universe is holographic, everything is interconnected, and the universe is a living entity. The activity of an ant is related to an elephant drinking water, the fluttering of a butterfly's wings in Alaska is connected to a storm at the Cape of Good Hope, today's cough is linked to an insect swallowed ten years ago, the current back pain is related to a mouse killed five hundred years ago, the suffering of a grandson today is connected to the mountain-digging activities of ancestors three thousand years ago, the rolling of a stone on the moon is linked to an earthquake somewhere on Earth, an explosion on a distant planet thousands of light-years away is related to someone sneezing on Earth...

Parents' words and actions are connected to the growth of their children; a mosquito bite on the toe is directly linked to getting angry; a lover's betrayal is related to the other's suicide; a statement made by Jesus or Buddha two thousand years ago is linked to someone's behavior today; Darwin's theory of evolution is connected to people not believing in the Greatest Creator; a statement made by oneself ten years ago is related to today's unexpected encounters...

Everything is connected, no matter how distant; all events are related, no matter how long ago; hearts resonate, whether in heaven or on Earth; spirits communicate, regardless of whether they belong to insects, plants, animals, humans, or ghosts. This is the holographic order.

In the midst of complexity and constant change, everything falls into place with precision and order. Every word, action, movement, thought, and intention leaves an imprint in the universe. When the time is ripe, there will be consequences. Feeling helpless, unable to understand, unable to see the principles of good deeds leading to good outcomes and evil deeds leading to bad outcomes, one feels anxious and confused, not knowing the cause. Life seems uncertain, everything appears random and inexplicable, because the characteristic of Tao is holographic order.

Boundless and infinite, without tactics or fixed modes, no name or identity, no form or shadow, yet its power is immense, rewarding and punishing at all times; invisible, intangible, and inaudible, yet it responds like a shadow that follows form; it can't be stolen, hidden, lifted or moved, it's elusive and empty, yet it can cause earthquakes, tsunamis, landslides, ground splits, and thunderous roars; where there's movement, it moves, where there's stillness, it's still, where there's life, it lives, where there's death, it dies, yet where there's movement, it's still, where there's stillness, it moves, where there's life, it dies, where there's death, it lives, it's profound and inscrutable, hard to fathom its wonder, because the nature of Tao is holographic order.

"Tao that can be spoken of is not the eternal Tao." This is because Tao possesses the characteristic of holography. Holography here does not refer to chaos; chaos is disordered, while holography is orderly. Tao forms an invisible "divine net," which, as the saying goes, " Divine punishments, though slow, are always sure, with big meshes yet letting nothing slip through." All things, all phenomena, are within this "divine net"; they cannot escape it, hide from it, erase it, or extinguish it. Whether they are gods, Buddhas, demons, celestials, saints, ghosts, or monsters, they all operate within this "divine net" and cannot escape it, cannot escape from holography.

As I expand, so does Tao; as I diminish, so does Tao; as I possess, so does Tao; as I lack, so does Tao; as I become complex, so does Tao; as I become simple, so does Tao.

Holography is not chaos. Within holography, there are 36 Eight-diagram Arrays, 36-dimensional spaces, 20 parallel worlds, and 64 basic factors. The permutations, combinations, and error corrections of these 64 basic factors intertwine to form astronomical numbers, which are difficult for human intelligence to understand and reach. Therefore, each person plays their own game, walks their own path. You are you; you can never become another person. Even if there is a 99.99% similarity, that 0.01% is enough to make a "world of difference," as distant as a thousand miles.

Do you completely understand? If you do, it proves that you don't understand the holography of Tao. Only by transforming oneself into nothingness, within the void, "faint, vague, dim, obscure," can one glimpse a bit of "true insight." First, dissolve oneself into holography, then one can understand the characteristic of Tao is holographic.

Laozi said, "Those who are skilled in the way of Tao are subtle, mysterious, profound, and penetrating, so deep that they cannot be understood." Why? Because Tao possesses the characteristic of holography.

Knowing that Tao has the characteristic of Holography and understanding the holographic characteristic of Tao hold profound and significant value. When we can face the collapse of Mount Tai without blinking an eye or skipping a beat, smile slightly with a knife at our throat, remain calm and composed in the face of death, stay unruffled in the face of family ruin and personal loss, and continue to be calm and relaxed even if the next second brings about earth-shattering changes, only then can we truly understand the holographic nature and principles of Tao.

In reality, at this moment, one has already become a celestial being. The sky is intensely blue, death ceases to exist, beauty surrounds us, profound experiences abound, all paths are open, skills are effortlessly wielded, and there is nothing to do but enjoy leisure and play.

Understanding the holographic characteristic of Tao and following its path leads to escaping the kingdom of necessity and entering the kingdom of freedom.

[connectparanormal]

Animal Reactions to the Paranormal

Animals' extraordinary senses, far beyond our own limitations, have long captivated humans. According to estimates, a dog's sense of smell is 10,000–100,000 times stronger than a human's, enabling it to pick up on minute chemical changes in its surroundings that humans would miss. Their hearing range is far greater than ours; they can detect frequencies as high as 65,000 Hz, whereas our limit is just around 20,000 Hz. Cats have equally remarkable senses; their retinas have specialized rod cells that allow them to see in six times the light intensity needed by humans. Their inner ears offer remarkable balance and spatial awareness, and their whiskers are able to detect even the smallest changes in air pressure. Long before humans are aware of them, these enhanced senses act as highly developed natural warning systems, informing animals of impending weather events, environmental changes, and possible threats.

These heightened sensory capabilities have led to numerous historical reports of animals displaying peculiar behavior prior to natural disasters. Animals reportedly fled days before a catastrophic earthquake struck the Greek city of Helice in 373 BC. Similar reports surfaced during the 2004 tsunami in the Indian Ocean, when animals appeared to foresee the danger and moved to higher land before the waves hit. The activities of animals frequently confound their human partners when it comes to apparent paranormal sensitivity. It is common for dogs and cats to behave in ways that imply knowledge of invisible presences, such as staring at empty areas, following invisible movements across rooms, or suddenly becoming defensive for no apparent reason. Documented paranormal activity areas often witness these occurrences, with pets displaying signs of severe distress or refusing to enter specific areas. The scientific community has proposed numerous theories to explain these actions, ranging from animals' sensitivity to electromagnetic fields to their ability to sense infrasound, or low-frequency sounds inaudible to humans. Documentation of both infrasound and electromagnetic oscillations in purportedly haunted locales suggests that these natural phenomena could potentially explain many purported paranormal experiences. Certain animals exhibit behavior that seems to be precognitive, as if they can predict events before they happen. For example, even at odd times, dogs may begin to behave tensely just minutes before their owner gets home. Before any human-perceivable warning signs of a thunderstorm materialize, cats frequently seek refuge in safe areas. Research on animals' sensory awareness constantly uncovers new information about their skills. According to recent research, certain animals can sense when a human seizure is about to occur, and dogs can use their sense of smell to identify diseases like cancer. These findings raise the possibility that our knowledge of animals' perceptual capacities is still incomplete.

Many cultures have long seen animals as bridges between the material and spiritual realms. Ancient Egyptian culture held cats in high regard as protectors of the supernatural, and Native American customs frequently depict animals as spiritual guides. Generations of observations of animals' mysterious sensitivities may have shaped these cultural ideas. The evidence of animals' better sensory capacities shows that they do see aspects of reality that humans do not, even though skeptics may reject paranormal interpretations of animal behavior. Although it is still up for question whether these perceptions transcend into the paranormal, their capacity to pick up on minute changes in our surroundings never ceases to astound and captivate us, serving as a reminder that there might be more to the universe than what our senses are capable of picking up.