#whether or not the tubes have blood is up to interpretation

[solidwater05]

Oh my god it's finished

So! @interrobang-merchant!

I don't have much to say about this besides the fact that I got very carried away when I was designing the hand, as you can probably tell. And also that I'm very inconsistent with details. Oops

And also this was made before a few extra descriptions were made so it's not super accurate

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Orchid Child, Dandelion Child

Pairings: Riddle & Sibling MC (NOT a romantic pairing)

Summary: This is going to take after Riddle’s overblot, and short and sweet. The term orchid child/dandelion child refer to children who may have very specific/different needs for their development, and those who need less accommodations or specific requirements for their development, respectively. They may grow up in the same environment but everyone’s needs are different, one child may have different coping mechanisms than the other. MC is heavily implied to have dyslexia, ADHD/Autism, and OCD (the latter two of which are often comorbid)

Notes: My brain is so dead. Enjoy this very short piece, sorry it's been a while.

TW: Graphic descriptions of embalming (weird tag I know but listen listen listen hear me out‒), also mentions of blood and human biology; past domestic/child abuse, and mental illness

GN Terms for MC

AO3 Link Here

Masterlist

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Adjacent to your mother’s footsteps, you had always had a curiosity for the medical. Though it was never living bodies that enamored you. In death, biology levels all. Cremation, natural burial, or alkaline hydrolysis‒ no amount of money, or intelligence, magic, or talent would help anyone escape the inevitable. Whether able bodied, rich, poor, moral or not‒ all people returned to dust, bones, and decay. 

  Rituals like the embalming process always brought you a strange comfort‒ the draining and ejecting, bathing, refrigeration‒ the body incised, emptied of its filth, and sewn back up. Imagining the dissection of a body into each fleshy component relaxed your own‒ as if your cold body lay on a sleek, steel mortuary table, your jaws and eyes sewn shut and the biology of your body ready to be drained. Even if your insides were scraped out for people to see‒ you would not feel shame. No blood to rush to your cheeks, or your aching heart. Your mother had always dismissed this career choice, urging you to find something ‘more within your reach ’.

  Your body would be clean from its excrement, scrubbed of all the insides that capsized you from this world, and its people.

  Compartmentalization‒ your psychiatrist mentioned. It took you a few tries to correctly register the word in your head when you had gotten the report, you’re not sure if it’s correct. If you did not imagine this scene at least three times a day, you felt like your blood was going to burst forth from your membrane, hot and spastic, like a monstrous clot of nerves. Again. Again. Again. You cleansed this shaking contamination within you with whatever you could do. That’s wrong. You dig your nails into your palm, resisting the urge to lay the papers that were shuffled around by the headmaster on the floor, sorting and checking one by one if they were there. Again, again, again. You imagine an arterial tube weaving through the wounds of your hands, draining the warmth that itched against your skin, the function of your wandering eyes, and the defect of your mind.

  “I’ve signed off on everything. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mx.Rosehearts?” 

  “No, nothing else. Thank you, Headmaster Crowley.” 

  You gather the stack of papers in your file, you check through‒ quickly‒ your medical records, doctor’s notes, psych evaluations, annotated versions of section 504, interpreter documents‒ a variety of other loose papers that wedge inside the old file as best you can, just in case . Even for such a minute accommodation, lacking a legally recognized diagnosis prepared you for the worst. Rejection‒ a tumble and drag into a system not designed for you in mind. These accommodations were an afterthought after that system was built, something to make you “whole”. There were many experiences in your interactions with school boards that warranted preparations like this, which you scrubbed into your mind and routine. No one will help you‒ not the board, the teachers, your peers, your family‒ you must be prepared to advocate for yourself. There was never room for failure, and you made sure that these accommodations made up for your innate nature to do so in this system.

  You bow a perfect ninety degrees before you head out of the office, quietly shutting the door behind you with a soundless exhale. Adjusting the stack of papers in your file, you scurry off to the library to find a quiet corner to reorient yourself. You weave through the various open tables, the large seating area, and the comfortable nooks with beanbags‒ and instead, opt for your usual spot in the corner of the library, where you softly place the file on the desk. 

  That’s wrong. Again. Again. Again. Again. 

  You open and close the file four times, feeling a wriggling, hot feeling in your blood that completely halts your mind from moving forward with your process, despite the short amount of time you have until your next class. 

  No. Again. 

  With the sixth time, it feels right. You sigh in relief, thanking whatever higher being out there that the process didn’t take as long as before. Medical records, doctor’s notes, psych evaluations, annotated sections, interpreter documents. All in order, all there, only for you to see. A weight lifts off your chest as you shift your eyes around the library, and close the file. 

  You browse through the section of the library, running your finger along the spines of the books to spot a new read.  A mauve leather-bound book catches your eye, the gold letter glinting in the dusty light of the library. Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: Other Lessons From the Crematorium you skim the summary on the back. Satisfied, you work your way to the counter, where the librarian checks out the book with a smile. She pulls out the book slip at the front of the book and a pen. 

  Riddle Rosehearts. 

  You almost make a sound at the name, but instead, you quietly chew in your inner lip to provide some sort of grounding for the whirling feeling in your stomach. You feel sick when you write your name in the same cursive as the name above yours‒ just like your mother taught you. 

  “ Again .” Your mother would say. 

  You write. She slaps your hand with a ruler, reaching over your shoulder to erase the word. 

  “ Again .” 

  You write. She slaps, she erases. 

  “ Again .” 

  You write. She slaps, the paper begins to fray from the friction of your eraser, and the tears that run hot down your cheeks. Inertia. Inertia. Inertia. You repeat the word in your mind, trying to mold it with your hands. But the black text above the frayed paper seems to weave together, jumble, congeal. You push the hot coal in the back of your throat, forcing your bruised hand to write. 

  That’s not right. Again. Again. Again. 

  Why can't you just do it the way you're told?  

  Medical records, medical recommendations, psych evaluations, doctor’s notes, annotated sections, interpreter documents. So much extra weight that folder holds that you have to carry everywhere with you‒ just in case . 

  Again. Again. Again. 

  You open and close the locker shut, twisting the locker combination each time. At this rate, you know you’ll be late to class, way past your accommodations agreements. You hope Professor Trein won’t make such a big scene. 

  When you arrive at class, you are miraculously left alone by the professor and your peers. Breathing a sigh of relief, you take your usual seat, finding a practice exam on your desk. 

  You didn’t properly shut your locker. People are probably stealing your stuff now, breaking your things, tearing your extra records into pieces. You didn’t properly shut your locker. The documents are ruined, and you have to start all over again. You didn’t shut your locker. You grip your pencil, bouncing your leg, digging your nails into your palm. Yes, yes you did lock it. Three times in fact. Still, a voice persists‒ you didn’t do it right. Again. Again. Again. You scratch, and pick at the broken skin of your palm. 

  Eventually, as you continue staring at the packet‒ you feel a stab at the back of your shoulder. A student jabs forth the packet of papers that were collected from the back with an exasperated face. The papers are basically thrown your way as you add your half blank packet to the pile, swallowing down your anxiety. Trein continues class as usual, going over the review sheet. 

  “Mx. (Name). A word?” 

  You freeze in your seat, in the middle of gathering your things for next class. Students’ gaze furl towards you, and you pick at the wound of your palm to calm the rising panic in your abdomen. Begrudgingly, you pack up your things, and head towards Trein’s desk. 

  “I will excuse your tardiness for today since you have accommodations, but that does not explain the almost completely unfinished practice exam that we took in class. Do you care to explain?”

  You refuse eye contact. “I…” There was no way to explain it with any sane sensibility, or without alerting your mother. “I apologize sir. I was distracted. It won’t happen again.”

  He sighs, you know he doesn’t believe you. It’s your condition‒ you look to the stack of accommodation letters and agreements tucked under his elbow, and you feel that weight in your chest. 

  “Please, sir. I’ll do anything to make up for it I‒”

  A hand is raised at your response, with a pinch at the bridge of his nose. “It’s…It’s quite alright. I know you are trying your best, considering your… situation . Please finish the packet before you come to class next time.” Trein hands the packet back to you, which you accept with a silent nod. 

  The situation, the condition, the baggage. There have been many terms used to describe your disablement from the world‒ each more alienating than the other. You draw blood on your palm once more, looking inside the crescent-shaped holes in your flesh. You feel nothing but the trembling deep in your chest. 

  You sit in the shared space of the Heartslabyul dorm, hoping that body doubling will allow you to finish your workload. Though it takes you some time, you manage to finish your work before the sun sets, and you scurry back into your dorm room to begin your book. As you try to relax, the thought of a missing assignment, a failed exam, a systematic blunter pricks at your skin, spreading and choking your flesh. You read the same sentence over and over, but understand nothing. 

  Why can't you just do it the way you're told?  

  You hear a knock at your door, seizing you from your thoughts. You sigh, shove whatever scrap paper that had been lying around into your book, and reluctantly open the door. 

  Riddle Rosehearts. 

  You remember him from his perfect handwriting, his words that mirrored your own mothers. You could never get the “R” quite right, something both your brother and mother scolded you for. 

  “Rule of threes, you understand what will happen when you fail the third time.” Again. Again. Again. 

  Riddle had always resembled his mother much more than you had‒ in voice, in appearance, in tone. “ Rule of threes, (Name). You know what mother will do to you when you fail the third time .” He extended your mother's violence with all his likeness to her, in his face that would look down upon you with aberration, and his tightened fists that dragged your head to look closer at the paper, and realize your error. Every way he came into contact with you had been wrapped, tightly as flesh, your mother's violence. 

  You imagine that cold table again, but Riddle’s silvery eyes tethered you to the moment. It was as if you could feel every shifting tendon of your body, every pull of sinew and blood that pumped blood rapidly to your heart, and the back of your ears. But the guilty look on his face reminded you of one of the rare times he had broken mother’s rules. You realized he was as much of a child too, that day. Stretched thin and tall to fill your mothers expectations. 

  His stare is unbearable, you push through the tension in your throat. 

  “Can I help you, Dorm Leader Rosehearts?” 

  You think you see his worried expression, but your eyes dart from his gaze when he looks towards you again. 

  “You left this on the table in the common room.” He extends you the file that you thought had been safely tucked with your belongings. Your vision begins to distort‒ graying and distancing as you attempt to keep yourself calm from experiencing your literal nightmare . “I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to see it.” 

  “I…do not, no. I would not wish to shame you, or this dorm.” 

  Riddle takes a sharp inhale. You unconsciously tightening your body‒ imagining the postmortem stages. Pallor mortis, your blood pools to the souls of your feet. Algor Mortis, your skin feels on fire, and cools dead, limp. Rigor mortis, you stiffen and contract. The nutrients of your body drained, breaking down to gray sludge. You prepare for the breakdown of your body, your psyche, and your soul‒ the wounds on your body are only evidence to your movement through temporality in this system. Livor Mortis, your blood bruises your skin. 

  “I did not…mean that. I only meant‒ I felt…” He sighs, looking towards the floor. “I’m bad at this. But I didn’t mean that this is something shameful. I only wished to protect your privacy.” 

  You avert your eyes, unsure of what to do with him wanting to protect you in some sort of way. Perhaps his overblot changed him, but all you see if your mother’s shadow, when you look towards him. 

  “It’s not important, I apologize for the trouble, Dorm Leader Rosehearts.” 

  Maintaining his grasp on the file, he attempts to keep this connection going. “There’s so much I need to apologize for.” 

  You only manage a strangled sound, afraid to pull the file towards you. Afraid of movement, of air, of space, of time, of him. Everything seems to strangle you, you know that it was precisely designed that way.

  He cups a hand over your own. You try to repress the tremble in your body from the searing feeling of his palm, too afraid to look, speak, or move. You remain still, like a corpse, hastily trying to turn off your nerves and the bursting blood in your body, slaughtering it, and draining all feeling from your body. It’s been so long‒ your body rushes to catch up. You’re always catching up. Always. 

  “I don’t want to upset you. I just came to apologize, but I understand if you don’t want to see me.”

  Your mouth is sewn with silence, your jaw caught in a tremor in your mouth. Quickly‒ your mind makes the decision to speak‒ mother never liked when you didn’t answer to her questions. 

  The words scrape through your throat. “I…” A gulp to lubricate the convulsing motions of your esophagus. “Nothing is wrong. I apologize, dorm leader Rosehearts. It will never happen again‒ I apologize‒ I will make up for it. Please.” 

  His gaze softens. “I’m not asking because I’m asking you to apologize, or make up for anything. I’ve learned some things…I wanted to make up, but, I want to make sure you’re okay first.” 

  “Are you okay?”

  You spare a glance at his face, almost caught in the worried expression adorned on his features. “I don’t understand what the purpose that question serves. I can’t understand…” Still, you worry what will happen if it seems like you blame him for your lack‒ so you shift the weight on yourself once more. “I am incapable…of understanding. I apologize.” 

  “Hey.” He mellows his voice as much as possible, releasing you from his grasp. “It’s okay.”

  “You asked me a question. I was incapable of giving an answer that satisfies you. That is a violation of the rules, is it not?” You retract your hands to your chest, pressing your nails into the wounds on your palm. 

  Riddle folds his hands, almost nervously fidgeting with them. You almost react visibly with awe at the sight. “Our mother may have been wrong about a lot of things. I only recognized that after I attended here, and made many friends who helped me understand that. I am extremely regretful of the things I’ve done to you, and the things I’ve said. There’s no excuse for the things I’ve done, but I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday‒ I want to reconnect, if you’ll allow me.” 

  You push the file against your chest. “...I don’t think it will be easy. For me, or for you. Especially for me.” 

  “Most things that are worth something aren’t. I realized something while I was overblotting.” His cheeks gradually bloom pink, a habit he’s had since he was a child. You remember the color most when he cried, but he looks sheepish. Igniting the same warmth in your cheeks, you look at his feet. Heels, you never noticed. He must be shorter than you. “I missed you. I really did. And I missed what we could have had. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been a better brother to you.”  

  “I think…I missed you too.” You admit. “I think neither of us can ask for help, we’ve been raised that way. We have drastically different ways of coping with that isolation.” 

  “I think so too. I have a lot of work to do.”  

  “ We do.”

  Rubbing your arm up and down, you soothe yourself‒ thinking of bodies and corpses, your skin buzzing from the thought of decomposition‒ what grows from them. The fruits of death lay thick and sweet on your tongue, as you stumble through a small smile. Riddle reciprocates.

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End Notes:

Obviously this is only a small glimpse into what healing from abuse and trauma is like. But it’s a start. The first steps count.

I’m also in no way shape or form attempting to justify Riddle’s behavior. He’s a complete and total asshole for sure, but he was a kid‒ I definitely see him as capable of change.

The terms Orchid/Dandelion child are relatively new, and I find the pop-psychology approach to it very distasteful (as pop psych usually is. do your fucking research people. PEER REVIEWED ARTICLES!) But I wanted to use the terms to kind of critique the notion of this divide between "resilient" and "nonresilient". It's just a matter of needs, which are different for everyone. Making this hierarchical distinction is arbitrary and often times ableist, as it normalizes a singular, hegemonic way of reacting/experience/compartmentalization/coping. Anyways read more disability studies if you want to know more.

Because I’m not officially diagnosed (my disabilities are not officially recognized by law because for me the disadvantages gross outweigh the benefits, like literally having your human rights stripped away) I don’t know the specific details of acquiring accommodations in a school setting apart from my position as a teacher, but please let me know if there are any errors in the information so I can fix them expeditiously

I also wanted to write about the systematic issues disabled people (particularly those with “invisible” disabilities or those who are “undiagnosed”), I feel like I’ve been experiencing a lot of issues and push back from a system which is not built for disabled people in mind (and often is used against the community in an attempt to eradicate the category). Furthermore, I wanted to explore the aspects in which traditional psychiatry/curative methods are not built for neurodivergent individuals specifically. We often get diagnosed (especially those who have been socialized or perceived as female) with other disorders because of the perpetual stigma against ADHD, and autism in particular. Mainly why I didn’t go the psychology/psychiatry route, despite (one of) my undergrad major(s). It would have been immoral for me to be one, if held up to the current regulations set by the American Psychology Association, or the regulations in my home country. Anyways, lots of problems I wanted to address‒ not sure if I was able to explore them more at length, but I’d like to do more of this in the future.

The book Smoke in your Eyes is a reference to Caitlin Doughty’s book. I highly highly highly recommend her youtube channel and any of her books tbh. She writes/talks a lot about death culture and our perceptions of death throughout history, and creating a more death-positive culture.

I wanted to avoid some of the common stereotypes and misconceptions of OCD, which is predominantly characterized by excessive handwashing, needing things very neat and in place. I wanted to explore the more internal obsessions, rather than focus solely on the external compulsions‒ as I feel like the external behaviors that are often portrayed in media don’t explore the inner workings that make the disorder so hard to live with (and treat).

[theannoyingurge]

Now feels like a good time to share way too much lore about Ironfang Keep (wiki).

The evil idiocy that takes place here was a major step on the Dark Three's ladder to ascension. It's also a potential solution to Durge's timeline issues, for those in need.

Ironfang Keep provides a super flexible, canon-compliant background. Durge can be a first generation "pureblood" of any age or race, including the weird stuff. It's cloaked in enough mystery to support almost any headcanon, without tripping over timelines and cosmic events between editions.

TL;DR - Bhaal's blood has magical properties, a will of its own, and some of it likely incubated in a mad science lab that has "Bhaal's Darkest Urges" written all the fuck over it.

As mortals, The Dark Three imprisoned an Elder Evil in Ironfang Keep named Hargut of the Grey Pestilence. This was after magically binding it to an Elder Doppelganger named Haask, who became a "symbiont" capable of giving sentience to a being of the Far Realms. The result was Haask, Voice of Hargut, an immensely powerful and pissed off abomination, now imprisoned in his own evil lair with nothing to do but plot.

Somehow, this seemed like a good idea to the Dark Three, right before scampering off to attain godhood and apparently forgetting all about it.

Over the centuries, Ironfang Keep formed into a dark and mysterious local legend in the Moonsea region, on account of all the kidnapping and dark magic breeding experiments going on inside. Yes, breeding experiments.

Haask fosters a cult of worshippers in Ironfang Keep, motivated by the pursuit of physical perfection. They kidnap every sort of being, sorting them into The Menagerie (for breeding experiments) and the Sanctum of the Eviscerated (for grafts, which are like magic surgical enhancements using monster parts).

Who does that remind you of?

The monstrosities and aberrations crafted inside the keep are known to escape, or rather, are strategically released into the wild.

("The wild" is situated right outside Mulmaster, one of Bane's major cities. How convenient for Haask!)

This is where I suggest The Dark Urge originated. Ironfang Keep is kind of a dream come true for the world's worst Dad, whose repertoire of monsterous children includes Perytons, Owlbears, Displacer Beasts, possibly vampires, and of course, the Bhaalspawn. His original batch failed to die for his resurrection, on account of not being loyal and clinging to life for whatever reason. A perfect child would never betray their father like that.

As for how it worked - Bhaal's blood retains some power and influence after his death. In BG3 we find the blade Bloodthirst, magically crafted from his mortal blood spilled in the city streets. His blood also infects the winding waters near Boareskyr Bridge where he was slain by Cyric.

If Bhaal ever spilled blood in Ironfang Keep, which he should have, considering the epic scale of that battle, Haask's cult likely discovered it and used it for experimentation. Whether that's with or without Bhaal's approval is up to interpretation.

Personally, I think he'd be pretty smug about his contribution to the art of physical perfection. Certainly desperate enough to claim the resulting abomination as his own regardless of who commissioned it. Especially if baby's first steps are all over Bane's faithful just down the road.

According to the game, Durge was crafted from Bhaal's gore, or a slice of his flesh. Maybe Bhaal lost a finger and it was cultivated in test tubes until babygirl emerged. Maybe The Urge is a symbiont like Haask, magically grafted to another experimental offspring.

In Ironfang Keep, the world is your oyster. Over a thousand years of history to play with and basically no rules or lore to contradict your imagination. Enjoy.

Something that confuses me about the storytelling in BG3

Honestly, the more I read up on the backstories and everything and on the lore of the Dead Three, the more confusing everything gets.

Because the Dead Three had no only all died in some way prior to the game, they also are technically half-bound to mortal bodies at the point the game takes place, even though they keep their divine powers. Because of the Second Sundering and stuff.

Technically the game actually acknolwedges this at the very beginning through a line when you find Jergal's book. Sure, technically it does not say who it was - but the book notices that there are three that only quite recently have come back to life.

Now, alright, technically the "recent" stuff is a bit more complicated.

Bhaal is the one of course that gives me (and everyone writing on Durge) the most headache. Bhaal was slain by Cyric in 1358 DR during the time of troubles. And sure, canon makes a big point out of the fact that he foresaw this outcome and because of that impregnated so many women hoping to be able to return through the Bhaalspawn he fathered. He then got revived in 1482, just two years before the Second Sundering, and ten years before the events of BG3.

And that makes Durge just very complicated. Because of course the game always speaks of Durge being created by Bhaal, with an implication that Durge might not have been born naturally but crafted by magic. But in that case he would have either needed to be born past 1482 (so be less than 10 years old) or pre-1358 (so be about 130 years old). And yeah, canon Durge is a Dragonborn, who despite their draconic heiritage actually do not live very long. Sure, Durge could be immortal, but... It is still all very confusing.

Then we have Bane. He also got killed during the times of troubles, also in the year of 1358 DR. However, him getting revived did not happen quite that late. He gut revived in 1372 so 120 years prior to the game. He then spent the years since gathering his power once more and reestablishing his old alliances.

Myrkul meanwhile is a bit more complicated. Because, yes, you guessed it, he got slain in 1358 as well, but he managed to get his grabby little fingers onto an artefact (ironically also a crown) through which he kinda continued to exist and was able to have some agency. Though ironically we do not fully know how he got restored from that state. (There is some speculation that in fact it was Ketheric who managed to restore him - maybe knowingly, maybe unknowingly.)

Hence, with Myrkul we do not even know when exactly he returned. He just... did.

Still, due to the Dark Urge being the figure they are... Bhaal's death and very late resurrection is the main thing that gives me a headache here. It does not really make sense.

If it was not with the fact that the text hammers on about them being created by Bhaal himself, it would be easy. You could just say that they are a second or third generation Bhaalspawn. There are more than enough of those around. But the game just keeps focusing on them being first generation in some regard.

Like, sure, if you personally played an elf-Durge or a drow-Durge, that is not that much of an issue. For the elven kin those 134 years are nothing. But again, canon Durge is a Dragonborn, who tend to have a lifespan of like 80 years. So, uhm... It is very, very confusing.

[pooma-health]

John Korsah

ACCRA-Ghana

Lipid profile test,

A lipid profile test, also known as a lipid panel or cholesterol panel, is a blood test that measures the levels of different types of lipids (fats) in the blood.

The test typically measures the levels of the following:

1. Total cholesterol: This is the total amount of cholesterol in the blood, including both high-density lipoprotein (HDL) cholesterol (also known as "good" cholesterol) and low-density lipoprotein (LDL) cholesterol (also known as "bad" cholesterol).

2. HDL cholesterol: This is the "good" cholesterol that helps remove excess cholesterol from the bloodstream and transports it to the liver for processing and removal.

3. LDL cholesterol: This is the "bad" cholesterol that can build up in the walls of arteries and form plaques, which can increase the risk of heart disease and stroke.

4. Triglycerides: These are another type of fat found in the blood that can also contribute to the development of heart disease.

A lipid profile test is often used to assess a person's risk for developing heart disease and to monitor the effectiveness of lifestyle changes or medication in lowering cholesterol levels. High levels of LDL cholesterol and triglycerides, as well as low levels of HDL cholesterol, are associated with an increased risk of heart disease.

➖Purpose

The purpose of a lipid profile test is to assess a person's risk of developing heart disease.

The test is often used to:

1. Identify people who have high cholesterol levels, which can increase the risk of heart disease and stroke.

2. Monitor the effectiveness of lifestyle changes or medication in lowering cholesterol levels.

3. Determine the risk of developing heart disease in people who have other risk factors, such as diabetes, high blood pressure, or a family history of heart disease.

4. Help guide treatment decisions, such as whether to start cholesterol-lowering medication.

By identifying and monitoring lipid levels, a lipid profile test can help healthcare providers develop a personalized plan to manage a person's risk of heart disease.

This may include lifestyle changes, such as a healthy diet, exercise, and smoking cessation, as well as medication, if necessary.

➖Procedure

The procedure for a lipid profile test typically involves the following steps:

1. Preparation: The patient may be asked to fast for 9-12 hours before the test. This means avoiding food and drink, except for water, during this time.

2. Blood sample collection: A healthcare provider will collect a blood sample from the patient, usually by inserting a needle into a vein in the arm. The sample will be collected in a tube and sent to a laboratory for analysis.

3. Analysis: The laboratory will analyze the blood sample to measure the levels of total cholesterol, HDL cholesterol, LDL cholesterol, and triglycerides. The results will be reported to the healthcare provider who ordered the test.

4. Interpretation: The healthcare provider will interpret the test results and discuss them with the patient. If the results show high cholesterol levels or other risk factors for heart disease, the healthcare provider may recommend lifestyle changes or medication to help manage the risk.

The lipid profile test is a simple and safe procedure that can be done in a doctor's office or a laboratory.

The test does involve a needle stick, which may cause some discomfort, but most people tolerate it well.

➖Results

The results of a lipid profile test typically include measurements of the following:

1. Total cholesterol: The desirable level of total cholesterol is less than 200 mg/dL (milligrams per deciliter) for adults. Higher levels may indicate an increased risk of heart disease.

2. HDL cholesterol: The desirable level of HDL cholesterol is 60 mg/dL or higher for both men and women. Low levels of HDL cholesterol may increase the risk of heart disease.

3. LDL cholesterol: The desirable level of LDL cholesterol is less than 100 mg/dL for adults. Higher levels may indicate an increased risk of heart disease.

4. Triglycerides: The desirable level of triglycerides is less than 150 mg/dL for adults. Higher levels may indicate an increased risk of heart disease.

In addition to these measurements, the lipid profile test may also include calculations of other ratios, such as the total cholesterol to HDL cholesterol ratio or the LDL cholesterol to HDL cholesterol ratio, which can provide additional information about a person's risk of heart disease.

It is important to note that the interpretation of lipid profile test results may vary depending on a person's individual risk factors for heart disease, such as age, family history, and other medical conditions. Healthcare providers use these results, along with other information about the patient's health, to develop a personalized plan for managing their risk of heart disease.

➖Suggested ways of bringing the abnormalities to normal in natural ways

1. High levels of total cholesterol, LDL cholesterol, and triglycerides, as well as low levels of HDL cholesterol, can increase the risk of heart disease. There are several natural ways to help manage these abnormalities and bring lipid levels back to normal. Some suggestions include:

2. Dietary changes: Eating a healthy, balanced diet that is low in saturated and trans fats can help lower cholesterol levels. This includes consuming more fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins. Foods that are high in fiber, such as oatmeal and beans, can also help lower LDL cholesterol levels.

3. Exercise: Regular physical activity, such as brisk walking, cycling, or swimming, can help increase HDL cholesterol levels and lower triglycerides. The American Heart Association recommends at least 150 minutes of moderate-intensity aerobic exercise per week for adults.

4. Weight loss: Losing excess weight, especially around the waistline, can help lower LDL cholesterol and triglyceride levels and increase HDL cholesterol levels.

5. Quitting smoking: Smoking can lower HDL cholesterol levels and increase the risk of heart disease. Quitting smoking can help improve lipid levels and overall heart health.

6. Managing stress: Chronic stress can increase cortisol levels, which can raise triglyceride levels. Managing stress through techniques such as meditation, yoga, or deep breathing exercises can help lower lipid levels.

7. Supplements: Some supplements, such as fish oil, niacin, and plant sterols, may help lower cholesterol levels. However, it is important to speak with a healthcare provider before taking any supplements to ensure they are safe and effective for the individual.

It is important to note that these natural approaches may not be sufficient for everyone and may need to be combined with medication or other medical treatments, depending on the severity of the lipid abnormalities and individual health factors.

Therefore, it is important to work with a healthcare provider to develop a personalized plan for managing lipid levels and reducing the risk of heart disease.

➖Suggested ways of bringing the abnormalities to normal in medication

If natural approaches to managing lipid abnormalities are not effective or not sufficient, medication may be necessary to lower lipid levels and reduce the risk of heart disease.

Some common medications used to treat lipid abnormalities include:

1. Statins: These medications work by reducing the amount of cholesterol produced by the liver and can lower LDL cholesterol levels by up to 60%. Examples of statins include atorvastatin (Lipitor), simvastatin (Zocor), and rosuvastatin (Crestor).

2. Bile acid sequestrants: These medications work by binding to bile acids in the intestine, preventing them from being reabsorbed into the bloodstream and reducing LDL cholesterol levels. Examples of bile acid sequestrants include cholestyramine (Questran) and colestipol (Colestid).

3. Ezetimibe: This medication works by blocking the absorption of cholesterol in the intestine and can lower LDL cholesterol levels by up to 20%. It is often used in combination with a statin.

4. PCSK9 inhibitors: These medications work by blocking the action of PCSK9, a protein that breaks down LDL receptors in the liver, leading to increased LDL cholesterol removal from the bloodstream. Examples of PCSK9 inhibitors include evolocumab (Repatha) and alirocumab (Praluent).

5. Fibrates: These medications work by lowering triglyceride levels and increasing HDL cholesterol levels. Examples of fibrates include fenofibrate (Tricor) and gemfibrozil (Lopid).

It is important to note that medication should be used in conjunction with lifestyle changes, such as a healthy diet and regular exercise, to achieve optimal lipid levels and reduce the risk of heart disease.

It is also important to work closely with a healthcare provider to determine the most appropriate medication and dosage based on individual health factors and any potential side effects.

[eyndr-stories]

To Be Human (FNAF SB fanfic) C1 - It Is ALIVE

In Summary:

In a distant future where humans no longer roam the Earth and the sentient robots they left behind are left with little to no clues as to the lost history of their inherited world, Sun and Moon take up the title of scientists and endeavor to create their own human in their lab (that's where you come in!) in order to shed light on the mystery that is the lost history of the human race. Shenanigans and existential dread ensue as you, a funky little lab creature given sentience, attempt to puzzle out what it really means to be human.

Things To Know (always read responsibly!):

Reader insert! Y/N is not used and gender is not specified, though later in the fic the reader receives a name (also, this reader does not have any boobas lol which I only mention because reader doesn't have a shirt when they first Emerge From The Science Tube Thing and I don't mean to curse / bless yall with the mental image of reader just runnin around titties out lmao)

hurt / comfort :^)

Non-specified relationships between reader and Sun & Moon, this can be read either as pals or more, totally up to your interpretation

enemies (sorta??) to friends (to perhaps more, up to u lol)

Sun & Moon are referred to with gender neutral pronouns

The reader and other characters are often in mortal peril! This world is full of Funky Creatures (other than you) and some of them attack and hurt several characters, including the reader character

On that note there is some blood and minor gore

Occasional swearing

Reader is at times kidnapped / brough to / kept in places against their will

Thoughts and ponderings of sentience and whether or not your thoughts and feelings are your own

Sun & Moon treat the reader as if they are not sentient / intelligent for the first few chapters

That's all I can think of, as always if you want me to add something please let me know!

Ao3 link: Right here!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

C1 - It Is ALIVE

     There weren't words, at least not at first. Experiences were as indescribable as they were all encompassing. You didn't know what was happening, but you sure didn't like it, whatever it was.

     Slowly, things started to make sense, at least. There was a strange disconnect from these experiences, despite how world-shakingly intense they were.

     Bright.

     Sore.

     Pressure.

     Cold.

     There was a lot going on, as far as you could tell, but those things seemed to be the most pressing matters. Things became clearer, senses started kicking in.

     "Of all the unbelievably irresponsible-"

     "Yell at me all you want! I can't stand this any longer! The way they treated us… what they were planning to do, and it was only going to get worse, I had to!"

     "How you feel doesn't matter. What matters is that without a second thought you just flushed years worth of work and funding down the drain!"

     “At least we’ll be able to start over!”

     Speech, that's what this was. It was loud, but not as loud as that repetitive high pitched noise.

     Stifling darkness, interrupted by painful flashes of red light. Figures moving around quickly, and something bright shining an annoying blue light at you. All of this was distorted, not as it should be. Sight was becoming clearer and clearer.

     That cold was so heavy. As was the air… why was everything pressing down on you like this? This pressure, it hadn't been here before, though those memories felt distant now… and there was this goop coating everything, slowly dripping away through an uncomfortable grate below you. You’d been suspended in the goop until a few moments ago. You felt the barrier around you, the distortion. It was smooth and cool. There was a word for it, but you didn't quite have all the details sorted yet.

     Sound, sights, feeling, processing all of it all at once so suddenly, it was upsetting. It was overwhelming.

     A word came to you. Misery.

     "Listen to me, for once. It's done now, there's no undoing it. You've got two options. Either you're with me, or you're against me. What'll it be, Moon?"

     The arguing ceased. The absence of the noise was a relief. All you could do was slowly wake up to the world around you and do your best not to drown under the experience of it.

     "Think of the other attempts, what the investor did to them, how little they care about our ends. Think of why we started this in the first place," that same voice pleaded. “Answers. Responsibility.”

     "I hate this," the other voice grumbled. "How dare you make these decisions on your own, like these years in collaboration meant nothing to you."

     "That's rich, coming from you. Who was it again who brought on an investor without talking it over in the first place?"

     "Sun-! Ugh. This is not the time for this. We have minutes to get everything together and get out of here."

     "…Does that mean you're coming with me?"

     "What choice do I have?"

     There was another stretch of silence.

     You were starting to get a grip on things, slowly but surely. As the moments dragged on, everything slowly became more and more bearable. You became aware of yourself, of the physical form you had autonomy over. You were so weird- long in places, squishy in most areas, a little pointy in others. Some things bent and others didn't. limbs and digits, it was so much, and you hadn't figured out how it all worked just yet.

     "Hurry, help me with this. If we disconnect this door we can go out the back way and buy ourselves more time," one of those voices said.

     There was movement and more noise. You were hardly paying attention anymore now that you were able to somewhat tune things out.

     Hands. Fingers. You bent these digits one at a time. You used your hands to gather more information, tactile, feeling. The distortion around you- glass, that's what it was- the remaining goop on you, and your own self. Fingers felt over your arms, your face, the stiff cloth shorts you were wearing. Something told you not to touch the things allowing you sight. Farther up, at the very top of you, something soft and silky. What was this??

     You ceased everything else, tuned everything else out, and focused entirely on the soft texture at the top of your head. The word was coming to you slowly and you pushed both hands into the softness. Everything else so far had been horrible, overwhelming, nearly painful, but this… this was nice.

     Hair. Soft hair.

     You pushed your fingers through it again and again, relieved at the positive experience. You kept this up, and slowly focused back on everything else around you, finding everything to be far more bearable as you kept up with the motion.

     There were two beings beyond the glass tube you were in. these two were moving quickly, gathering objects from the environment beyond the tube and gathering everything together in bags. They kept talking to each other, tones full of focus, irritation, and worry.

     You didn't care about these other noisy creatures. You wanted to get out of this tube, and preferably someplace quieter. You pressed one hand into the glass, gathering more tactile information. Too strong to push away. Too thick to push through. It encompassed you entirely, so you couldn't maneuver over it. The grate below you was much the same, too strong and too thick, unmoving under your hand.

     You looked again to the creatures on the other side of the glass. Why were they outside, and you were inside?? Hardly seemed fair.

     You considered communication. You could not get out of the tube on your own. You wanted assistance from these two beings, but you didn't have the complexities of speech worked out in your brain yet. How else could you communicate…?

     You used your physical form, as it was all you had to work with. You slapped your hand against the glass, almost immediately gaining the attention of both creatures.

     The brighter colored of the two made a startled noise and visibly jumped. The darker colored one seemed surprised as well, and exclaimed something that you didn't catch.

     Pat pat pat. You pat the glass again.

     "It's still alive. And it's awake?!" the bright one shrieked.

     "What did you do??" the dark one demanded.

     "What did I do?! I tried to sabotage the project, I didn't expect it to… oh, Moon. Oh, what do we do? What do we do??"

     "Calm down, Sun. Obviously we just leave it behind. We have more than enough to start over again," the darker, Moon, said.

     Wait. That's not what you wanted. You used both hands now to pat at the glass, somewhat frantically.

     "Leave it- you realize what they'll do to it," the brighter -Sun- said, horrified.

     "You should have thought of that before you made all these sudden rash decisions for us," Moon said.

     "Moon. We are not just going to leave it here. You're the one who's always going on about the responsibility of creation! This creation is ours. It's our responsibility. We can't leave it behind," Sun argued.

     Moon made a dissatisfied, angry sort of noise. "Using my own philosophy against me," they grumbled. "Fine, fine. But you're figuring out how to take it with us."

     Sun moved a hand around the thing emitting the bright blue light, and suddenly the glass tube was moving upwards away from you, and you watched it lift away with wide eyes.

     Finally, you got a clear view of the room beyond the tube. This cylindrical space was filled with sleek control panels and wires and shelves full of tools and vials. All things you were struggling to wrap your head around. There were crates and lots of tall tables and machines you couldn’t begin to understand the function of.

     Slowly, you understood more and more about the world around you, your brain slowly working out more and more information. This room was a facility of some sort, the words lab and science coming to you, but to what end, you had no idea.

     The walls were white and bare except for the multicolored wires running up and down them. Some wires hooked up to machines, others vanished into the walls or tangled together in jumbled messes. The glass tube had been right in the middle of the room, and you now felt very cold and exposed and unsafe, sitting out in the open right in the middle of this confusing environment.

     The two beings were clearer now as well. They were much bigger than you, and had more limbs. Four arms each, all eight working frantically to stuff items into a pair of large bags. They both had circular flat heads, but the mostly yellow one had faintly glowing triangles poking out of the edges of their head. The mostly blue one wore a pair of shiny goggles on their head. They both were wearing matching white coats, though Moon’s sleeves were rolled up, and Sun’s was neatly buttoned up.

     What caught your attention most was their skin. It wasn’t like your own, it was hard, smooth, shiny in some places, well worn in others, colors fading into dark grey. Metal, that’s that it was. These beings were made of metal.

     Suddenly, Sun moved quickly towards you, jolting you from your thoughts.

     PANIC, FOE, ATTACK, HURT.

     You flailed in a blind panic as Sun approached, then scrambled over yourself to move away, scurrying as quick as you could in the opposite direction. You acted on sudden overwhelming instinct, fueled by a heart-gripping energy. You climbed up on top of a table, getting that goop all over the poorly organized tools strewn about here.

     Moon eyed the scene warily as they kept packing. Sun, who'd been startled away, was now approaching again, much slower this time.

     "Ohhhhhkay, you're a lot more aware and active than I thought you'd be," Sun mumbled. They held all four hands out and took a few steps closer.

     You shied back, uncertain about what the hell Sun was wanting to do with you. When Sun continued advancing, you grabbed the closest item up off the desk and wound it back to throw it at Sun, threatening to turn the item into a projectile. Sun paused.

     “Oh my, please don’t throw that, it’s very expensive,” Sun said worriedly.

     “Sun, it can’t understand you,” Moon snapped.

     You scowled and threw the item at Moon.

     Moon yelped and fumbled, barely managing to catch it. Sun took this opening to dart forwards and grab you.

     You hissed and growled and thrashed, extremely displeased with this. Sun struggled, but they were bigger and had twice as many arms.

     “You can’t mean to transport it like that,” Moon said. They stuffed a few more things into a bag, then strapped the bag to their back.

     “Well I can’t exactly put it in a bag, now can I?!” Sun huffed, readjusting their hold on you, who very much did not want to be held.

     Moon thought for a moment while Sun continued to struggle.

     “Here. We’ll make use of the incorrectly sized cable you ordered after all,” Moon said, moving to a different desk. From underneath the desk they pulled out a long flexible spool of colorful cable.

     Sun wrestled you into cooperating while Moon fashioned a sort of harness around you, tied around your torso and shoulders with the long end of the cable tied in a knot at your back, where you couldn’t reach. Sun grabbed hold of the end of the cable, and just like that, you had been successfully tethered. The word ‘leash’ came to mind.

     Sun pulled on a bag, and quickly pulled you away from a table, where you were moments away from grabbing another makeshift projectile.

     “Is that everything?? You have our research backlog? Or records?” Sun asked.

     “It was the first thing I packed,” Moon assured. “If we have the time, we could run by the storage-“

     There was a frantic pounding at the door, and muffled yelling from the other side.

     “No time. We need to go,” Sun said.

     “Right.” Moon sighed. They cast one last look around the room, hesitating briefly, then hurried towards the other door.

     Sun followed, pulling you along with them. You attempted to resist, pulling at the cables and even flopping down onto the floor, but Sun pulled you along easily regardless. As all of you made your way out of the room and into a corridor, you reasoned you’d rather not be dragged, and reluctantly scrambled along behind Sun, quickly figuring out how walking was supposed to work.

     Everything was a blur. There were walls and doors and it was all so brightly lit compared to the room, it was all you could do to stumble along. You tried to shield your eyes with an arm, blocking out the visual input.

     All at once, the scenery changed. Without warning the air turned sharp and biting- cold. It was dark again, and the ground was no longer smooth. There weren’t any walls to bounce every little sound back and forth in an echoing cacophony of sensory overload, at least.

     You struggled to understand what you were seeing. There was meaning for these things around you, explanations, but your brain wasn’t finding the right answers fast enough.

     The ground was loose and soft and cold, though small bits were hard and pinched the bottoms of your feet as you stumbled along. Dirt.

     Moon and Sun navigated urgently through impressive pillars of something scratchy and hard. You brushed against one of these pillars as it flew towards you through the deep shadows around you, and winced as the speed of the collision scraped at your shoulder. Another word came to you. Wood.

     Beyond the shadows, beyond the shapes whirling past, beyond the sound of pursuers yelling behind you, was something vast. You looked up, and though it was partially obscured by a countless collection of small silhouetted objects, you could see that vastness expanding endlessly above you. It was full of dazzling lights.

     Stars.

     You tripped and flew forwards, crashing into the ground. Pain spiked through your hands and scraped along your arms and knees. You groaned as you struggled to get back up.

     “Oh, let me help-“ Sun said. They’d come to a halt instantly upon realizing you had fallen. Sun lifted you under the arms and waited for you to get your feet sorted out below you before they moved away. “Oh dear, is there any damage??”

     You squinted down at your limbs. Through the dark, you couldn’t be sure what was dirt and what was dried goop. Your palms and knees tingled unpleasantly.

     “HEY! GET BACK HERE!” someone hollered.

     Sun jumped. You both looked to see those pursuers rushing towards you, the head start you’d had wasted by the fall.

     “Oh no!” Sun turned and looked around in the direction they’d been running. Moon was nowhere to be seen, having left the two of you behind. “Oh no…”

     “Stop!! You’re being put in containment!” one of the pursuers yelled.

     Sun picked a direction and started running again.

     This time, you did your best to keep a better eye on where you were stepping, despite the entrancing beauty and the mesmerizing terror of the impossible cosmos hanging over you. Not only that, but it was so dark out, you could barely see five feet ahead of you. Without Sun's glowing rays casting a yellow glow over everything nearby, you doubted you'd be able to see your own hand in front of your face.

     Either the pursuers were slow or you and Sun were fast, or both. After a painfully long while of running, there were no sounds of pursuit behind you. There were also no traces of Moon to be seen anywhere either.

     You and Sun stopped to rest. Sun kept looking around and anxiously worrying the edges of their lab coat.

     “Oh… what should we do? Do we wait here? Try to find Moon? Try to find the shelter?” Sun muttered.

     You looked around. You didn’t particularly feel safe just sitting around out here. Maybe it was just the darkness. You couldn’t be sure who or what was out here with you. You stood back up and stared at Sun, hoping they would get the hint.

     “I suppose we can’t stay here… we might be found by the authorities,” Sun said. “Moon is smart. They’ll be able to find their way to the shelter. They’re probably already there.” Sun laughed lightly. “We should go there and join them. Or… wait for them.”

     Sun lead the way, now moving at a much more manageable pace. They kept looking behind them, checking on you, or for followers, or both.

     You kept glancing up at the stars. You could hardly look away. The sky was incredible. But… you couldn't help but feel like something was missing. You had no idea what.

     The two of you walked for a long time. Sun would hesitantly change directions slightly every now and then, weaving a worried and uncertain trail through the trees. Trees, that’s what these pillars were. You were in a forest.

     Finally, Sun stopped. You were concerned for a moment that Sun had at last realized you were hopelessly lost.

     “There it is!” Sun cried happily. They hurried forwards, leading you along behind them.

     The two of you approached a dome-like structure hiding at the edge of a clearing overgrown with grass tall enough to tickle your knees. Hexagonal shapes spaced evenly around the sides of the dome glowed with a friendly pale yellow light.

     The door lead to a small room, some kind of airlock. Once Sun and you were inside and the door was shut behind you, there was a hissing sound and a cold mist filled the small space. Then the mist dissipated and the door leading farther into the dome opened.

     Within the large singular room there appeared to be three distinct areas. The area by the door was wide open and the furniture appeared mostly for lounging, with chairs and small tables. The space in the back left looked to be for sleeping. There were several bunk cots and large storage containers and curtains hanging around the cots. The space in the back right was full of confusing equipment and machinery. There were shelves and counters and smaller containers.

     It all looked very clean and new, as if entirely untouched. Those hexagonal shapes allowed you to view the clearing and the woods outside, even though you remembered being unable to see in while you were outside.

     Sun let out a long sigh and dropped their bag by the door. They looked around. “…I guess Moon hasn’t made it here yet. They’ll probably show up any minute!”

     You looked to one of the windows. It was too dark out to see much, just the faint outline of the nearby trees. You pulled at the cables and stared at Sun.

     “Oh. Well…” Sun looked uncertain. “…Alright.” They went to the door first, tapping at the panel on the wall next to it. When it beeped, they turned back to you and carefully untied the knot at your back, loosening the cables enough for you to wriggle free.

     You stretched and rubbed at your skin where the cables had been digging into you all night. Then you finally got a good look at the rest of yourself. You were indeed covered in dirt and dry goop, which had left bright green spots of stickiness here and there. The dirt was dark, mostly purple in color. There was also something red staining your palms and knees.

     “Let’s get you cleaned up. Try not to touch anything for a moment,” Sun said.

     You got the sudden urge to climb over everything in sight just to frustrate Sun, but you were too tired to enact this plan. You plopped down onto the floor and waited while Sun rustled through their bag.

     “Okay, nothing super useful for cleaning in here,” Sun muttered. They went to the cots and shuffled through some of the storage boxes, eventually pulling out a small cloth. “Here we go!” Sun took the cloth to one of the confusing machines in the other back corner and produced a stream of water, which they used to soak the cloth. Finally, they returned to you and crouched down in front of you.

     You eyed Sun suspiciously, shrinking away.

     “Just hold still, alright?” Sun said, moving in with the cloth.

     You hissed and scooted farther away.

     Sun huffed. “I’m just trying to help!”

     You scooted even farther away, scowling at Sun.

     Sun looked at the cloth, then at you. They sighed heavily. “Look, you need to get clean, you’re absolutely filthy. If you won’t let me do it, at least do it yourself?” Sun held out the cloth.

     You eyed Sun and the cloth for a moment, thinking it over.

     Sun huffed. “What am I doing. Moon is right, you can’t understand me.”

     You frowned. You moved close enough to snatch the cloth from Sun, then backed away again.

     Sun stared at you. “…Can you understand me??”

     You weren’t sure how to reply in the affirmative. You still couldn’t speak, that was far too complex for you to figure out and you were too tired. Instead, you just started to scrub at your arms and legs, getting all the stuff off of you.

     Sun hummed and let you be to unpack some of the things in their bag, laying out papers and tools and small devices on the small tables.

     You finished cleaning yourself off. You dropped the stained cloth on the floor and got up to wander around and investigate.

     Most things in this space were smooth and hard. Some of the machines had interesting textures, and the walls felt somewhat grainy. The door was cold and would not open. You tried tapping at the panel by the door, like Sun had done, but you weren't able to make sense of the icons and symbols there. Moving on for now, you found the chairs were all soft, though not quite as soft as your hair. The cots, however, those were quite soft. You gasped happily and rubbed your hands along the squishy material. You pushed your arms and your face into the stuff, humming happily. You paused when Sun giggled.

     Sun had been watching you carefully the whole time, tapping away at some kind of small glowing device in their hands. You ignored Sun and eyed the cots. They were all equally as soft. You set your eyes on the top bunk. There were metal slats along the side of the bunk for convenient climbing, so you scurried up and climbed into the top cot, sprawling out onto the softness.

     It was so nice up there, higher up out of reach and surrounded by comfort. You felt your sore muscles relax. You sunk into the cot, moving your fingers in slow motions back and forth over the soft surface.

     You paused and stared suspiciously as Sun approached. You gripped the edge of the cot and hissed down at them.

     Sun held their hands up. “Easy! I just wanna show you something. See this pad here? If you tap it, it’ll turn the heater on.” Sun tapped a small glowing square set into the side of the cot. Sure enough, the softness suddenly began emitting heat. “See? Tap tap. Warm.”

     You gasped and sunk back down into the cot. You hadn’t even realized how cold you were. This was marvelous.

     “If you want, you can pull the curtain closed too. Like this,” Sun said, demonstrating by tugging on the curtain hanging from the ceiling.

     You pulled the curtain shut around the cot without hesitation. You heard Sun chuckle, then heard their footsteps padding away. You peeked out just to be sure. Sun had indeed gone back to the chairs and their papers.

     You curled up contentedly on the cot. You felt absolutely fantastic compared to the confusing chaos you’d been through earlier. This was bliss, it was joy and comfort and calm.

     You fell asleep within the minute.

[windbourne-hymn]

genre: fluff to angst lmao

pairing: albedo x gn!reader (could be interpreted as platonic or romantic)

cw/tw: mentions of death, graphic descriptions of injury and blood, spoilers for dragonspine lore and inazuma quest, dialogue heavy, really fuckin long, basically shadows amidst snowstorms but with major character death, traveller has masc pronouns

___________________________________________

Durin's carcass lay sprawled across wyrmrest valley, having stood the test of time and unforgiving ice and snow. His blood coalesced into scarlet quartz and seeped into the ground, melding into the essence of dragonspine itself. It flowed through the cracks and crevices of the mountain itself, forming a network of arteries and veins. Wherever it went, it brought about a mutation, that some may regard to be a form of sickness. After all, Durin's birth was far from natural. He was made to corrupt and spread pestilence while he thought he was bringing happiness to the people of Mondstadt. Did he not deserve a chance to live a life among the people he loved so dearly? They say that history is written by the victors and so, Durin came to rest, known by the world to be an evil dragon.

Albedo often wondered about what granted one the status of a god. More than once, humans had been punished for conspiring to enter the garden of the gods. Inherently, gods are regarded and the creators of humans and they are prayed to for protection. But what if there was a way that allowed humans to be placed on an equal footing as gods? Who or what would determine whether humans were deserving of using this method? Alchemy granted humans a chance at godhood. It paved the way for the creation of miraculous life forms, much like the gods created the humans. However, would this synthetic life be enough to exalt humans to the status of creators?

Albedo himself was a homunculus, a fine specimen of alchemy, composed of dust and chalk, free from impurities. He was tasked by his master to find the truth of the world, a very elusive concept with close to no tangible evidence or loose strings to grapple at. Everything was an experiment to him, a chance to learn about the intricate workings of the world, no matter how small or insignificant. He took in every opportunity as it came. One day he was asked by the Knights to take a promising alchemist as an apprentice. He was eager to have a new person with a fresh perspective in his lab that had grown cold and stagnant with redundant musings.

Y/n, as this person was called, certainly lived up to their reputation as a talented alchemist. They had a curious mind and learnt things quickly. For a brilliant mind, Albedo was slow to pick up how y/n grew on him. He didn't really notice it at first, but the lab felt emptier than usual when y/n was away at the city to report their findings to the Knights. He longed for that presence, the extra set of hands picking up test tubes and vials, concocting strange and miraculous potions, scribbling notes of their findings on paper and drawing up charts on the board. He missed their voice, their laughter, sighs and everything in between. He missed their footsteps on the powdered snow and the quiet greeting that they'd mumble to him every time they walked from their camp to the lab. Y/n would force him to take breaks, taking over his job for a bit. Homunculi were different from humans. They didn't need rest or recreation to be performing at peak efficiency. Yet, he obliged every time y/n asked him to take a break because he thought that the fact that they cared about him was endearing, and also because he liked to watch them work.

"I've been thinking about the ruins on this mountain lately," Albedo heard y/n's voice from across the lab one evening. "I remember you telling me that they were the remains of a place once known as Sal Vindagnyr. I came across eight tablets that told the tale of how the gods dropped the skyfrost nail which split into three pieces and plunged this land into eternal winter. Why do you think they did it?"

Albedo looked up from his work. He could see y/n gazing at the landscape, silver moonlight illuminating their silhouette against the backdrop of snow covered valleys and a starry sky. He walked over to them. The wonder in their eyes made him feel something that he wasn't familiar with. Call it a sense of protectiveness. Albedo had been around long enough to know that those who interfered too much into the mystic were never spared from a tragic fate. He didn't know how to protect y/n from their own curiosity, so he did what he could do at that moment to satisfy their question.

"The people of Sal Vindagnyr were gifted with knowledge from the heavens above. The envoys of the gods walked among the people and the chief priest, donning a crown made out of the branches of the Irminsul tree, interpreted their wishes. However, the people, having gained sufficient knowledge, began questioning the authority of the gods. The gods punished this ungratefulness by plunging the land into a never ending winter, which ultimately lead to the demise of the civilization."

Y/n turned to face Albedo. "Then why would someone create something, if not to watch it thrive?"

"Well, consider it as a garden. As its creator, you would most definitely want to see the garden thrive and in full bloom. But what about the ivy that would grow over your walls and crack the bricks if left unchecked? What about the azaleas which once adorned the flower beds but now threaten the very foundation of your house? You see, for something to exist in optimum condition, it must be restrained. There are laws of this world which aren't meant to be broken. Those who do are weeded out mercilessly."

A silence hung in the air. Y/n mulled over his words. "If it is every creation's fate to one day overpower its creator, how can we be assured that our creations from alchemy won't replace us instead?" This time, Albedo did not have an answer. He had committed himself to finding the meaning of this world, no matter how much it cost him. But this was something he had considered only in passing before. What if his alchemy gave rise to something sinister, something that would one day replace humans themselves?

"The lives of humans are quite enviable, if you think about it," y/n continued. "The average person would envy someone with extraordinary abilities, but they often undermine the importance of actually being understood. Having someone who can relate to what you're going through can make all the difference in some cases and... and maybe that's the trademark of humanity. Compassion and empathy. Understanding others needs and helping them. Filling in where others are lacking. Perhaps it is our ability to understand each other that got us this far. Who wouldn't want to be understood? To be loved and cared for and to feel like they belonged?"

No one spoke for a while. Albedo quietly let the full weight of y/n's words sink in. It wasn't something he hadn't thought about before, but knowing that someone he held in high regard shared his views brought him a sense of comfort. "It's getting late," Albedo said. "We should head back to camp." "You're right, I'm starving. Perhaps I could do with a late night snack," y/n looked at him expectantly. "Alright, alright, I'll make you a serving of sunshine sprat," Albedo chuckled.

A week later the mountain was visited by the traveller and his friends. Y/n had heard so much about the traveller who quelled the Stormterror threat, saved the nation of Liyue from an ancient god and helped abolish the vision hunt decree in Inazuma. Meeting him in person was very exciting for them, and so was seeing the casual side of Amber and Eula who they never interacted with much outside of work. They spent time with them, trying their hand at the various challenges that the Adventurer's Guild had made although they weren't much of an adventurer. Something didn't sit right with y/n since Albedo mentioned his alchemy notes going missing in the morning. After helping Albedo clean the mess that had been made out of his lab, they split into groups to look for the notes.

Albedo and the traveller tracked the thief to the entrance of a cave. He told the traveller to stay outside while he went into the cave. The traveller grew worried when he didn't return after a while. However, his fears were dispelled when he saw Albedo walk out. He returned to camp with Albedo, until he saw that he was no longer following him. This greatly puzzled the traveller and Paimon, who also met y/n along with Eula and Amber who claimed that they saw Albedo trying to lead Joel away from camp. Y/n was skeptical of what they saw and insisted that it might've been someone else.

Before long, they saw Albedo walking towards the group from the distance. "Traveller, I thought I asked you to wait at the entrance of the cave? Why did you leave without saying anything?" His tone was calm but was laced with annoyance. "Albedo, what the devil do you think you were doing?!" Eula exclaimed. "What were you thinking trying to lead Joel away from camp and leading him to the wasteland when you thought no one was watching?" "But he was with us the whole time!" Paimon interjected. "Well, to answer your question we rescued Bennett from a Fatui camp. And besides, didn't you walk with us halfway to the lab?" the traveller questioned. "What? But I never even..." he began. Then it struck him. "The one you have seen might be an imposter." "An imposter? Hold on," y/n finally spoke who had been silent all this while. "How do we know we're talking to the real Albedo right now?"

"I, uh.." Everyone stared at him expectantly. "Well right now I don't have much to offer, but we should keep our eyes open for any identification marks or things that would help us differentiate between me and the imposter. I wouldn't blame you if you are wary of me at the moment, but I can certainly lead you down this mountain where we can regroup and take stock of the situation." Everyone was hesitant to accompany him but seeing as they had no other option, they decided to follow Albedo.

"I really can't wait to get off this mountain, we've been stuck here for days!" Amber exclaimed as she dug into the food that Albedo had made for everyone back at the lab. "You're a very talented cook, Albedo," the traveller remarked as he finished his share. "We should rest for a while and then be back on our way," Albedo said. Everyone agreed. The group then caught up about how everything had been in their lives otherwise. The traveller narrated the incidents that took place in Inazuma while everyone listened.

"Albedo, a minute please," y/n asked after most of the others had gone to bed. "What do you think is the best way to maintain a garden in the optimum condition?" Albedo was a bit puzzled. Why would they be asking about gardening now of all times. "Is this about our conversation a few days ago?" he asked. "So it really is you," y/n breathed a sigh of relief. Ah. So this was a method of verification of sorts. Albedo felt relieved to have someone like y/n in the group who never really let their guard down.

Before leaving, Albedo called y/n and the traveller over to tell them something- a story. He told them of a failed experiment, a subject two, who wished to feel human. He told them of how only a gardener could discern the difference between two similar roses and identify the one which has thorns. Concealed in these cryptic words was the verification mark which Albedo entrusted to y/n and the traveller. He trusted their judgment to keep everyone safe.

As they made their way down the mountain, Albedo felt a slight tremor in the ground beneath them. A few loose rocks and pebbles rolled down the side of the mountain. He was the first to catch on to the fact that an avalanche was approaching. He shouted out the warning and soon enough, large sheets of snow came crashing down onto them. Eula puller Amber to safety, the traveller and Paimon dodged the falling rocks and debri while y/n followed Amber and Eula. Bennett tripped and fell off the edge of the mountain and Albedo dived after him. It was only after the dust had settled that the group realized that Albedo was nowhere to be seen.

They found Bennett, alive and well. However, they did not see Albedo anywhere. Y/n was frantic. They spared no effort in pushing aside piles of rocks in the hopes of finding Albedo there. They didn't have the build of an adventurer but some energy overtook them and they sprinted through the snow to search for Albedo before anyone could stop them. After a while of searching, the group saw Albedo again. This time, though, they had their guards up.

After walking a while Albedo attempted to attack the group. They held him off to the best of their abilities. It was surprising that he manipulated cryo in spite of having a geo vision. He was preparing to deal his final strike when he was stabbed from the back by the Cinnabar Spindle by none other than Albedo. The group was relieved to know that they had been correct in identifying the imposter. The imposter fell to his knees, clutching at the gash in his stomach. Perhaps the injury affected his mimetic powers, but the imposter regained its original form as the fell flower. The monster was a whopperflower mutated at an accelerated speed due to Durin's blood. It could assume the form of anything it wanted and could replace the original person in their life. Alchemy was indeed a self fulfilling prophecy- a study that could grant humans equal power as gods could also ultimately be their downfall.

After the fell flower had been defeated and the situation had eased, Albedo asked the traveller how he had managed to recognise him. The traveller brought up the mark on Albedo's throat. He had a deep understanding of alchemy and spoke in metaphors to help others understand it better. He compared the mark to a glassblower's mark; the only imperfection in an otherwise perfect creation. He theorized that the flower wanted to be perfect and so, it innately felt compelled to leave out the mark.

Once the Adventurer's Guild dismantled their camp and travelled back to Mondstadt, Albedo finally found the time to collect his thoughts with y/n. Both of them had been through a lot over the past few days. He reminisced about his "brother", a failed attempt at creating a homunculus. If he was in his brother's place, he too, would've liked to carve a space out for himself among the humans. To love and be loved. And anyone who would've stood in the way would be disposed of. But now, it was his duty to protect his friends and loved ones from his imposter.

"What's on your mind?" Albedo heard y/n's voice from behind him. "Hm? Oh, nothing, just reflecting on the events of the past few days." He replied, not meeting their gaze. "Very well then, I'll leave you at peace," saying so y/n withdrew into their quarters. It was a calm night. Wyrmrest valley received respite from the constant blizzards and snowstorms and a clear sky could finally be seen from their lab. "I'll take you to see the mural tomorrow," Albedo said.

"What mural?"y/n asked. "Oh, you know, the one depicting Sal Vindagnyr's history. You've always wanted to learn more about it haven't you?" "Right. Yeah. I've always wanted to learn more about the history of Sal Vindagnyr." That was odd. For someone with an insatiable curiosity about Celestia and the knowledge of the ancients, y/n seemed uncharacteristically unenthusiastic. Well, perhaps the stress of the previous days might've taken a toll on them but he could never be too sure.

"Say, y/n, you had told me last week that you had an idea for a formula that could turn humans into something extraordinary. Do you want to talk about that now?"

"Oh? I, uh, don't remember very well. Honestly, I'm very tired and I'd rather just go to sleep,"

"Oh come on, you don't sound like yourself at all. You were so passionate about this project. It was our joint belief to sort the talent among the useless masses. With this formula, we might perhaps achieve alchemy's greatest feat yet."

"You're right. Humans are such practical creatures. They only want what's good for themselves. Once they learn the difference between what's good and bad, they never stop making comparisons. Useless things should be disposed of at the outset."

Wasting no time, he summoned his sword and held it up at the imposter's throat. "You have one chance to speak. Where is y/n and what have you done with them." He pressed the blade slightly in, drawing a thin, crimson line of blood. "I waited for the most opportune moment," the imposter replied through gritted teeth. "I disposed of the person who could tell us apart. As for the other, he took care of him as well-" before Albedo could realize what he was doing, he had decapitated the imposter, which collapsed to the ground in the form of a fell flower.

"Y/n," Albedo didn't know where they were. He didn't know in what condition they were. He rushed out of his lab and into the darkness. He didn't know where to begin looking. He could hear his heartbeat pound in his ears. He could begin someplace which meant something to the imposter. Wyrmrest valley. Durin's skeleton. His feet took him there before he could form coherent thoughts. He had to search. He simply had to. "Y/n!" He called out, hoping, praying that he would hear their voice.

He ran further into the cave. Durin's heart. His heart which yearned to live amongst humans. To protect them, to learn from them, so be friends with them. Right before that very benevolent heart was y/n's mangled corpse, slumped against the walls. "..." Albedo couldn't say anything. He didn't know what to do next. He knew that all humans had their own lifespans and death was inevitable, but he wasn't prepared to see this. To see someone so close to him in this state.

I should've known, I should've acted sooner. This was no time for regrets. They shouldn't have to pay for my sins. What would they think if they saw him like this? Please, a second chance, just another, I'd do everything right this time. They deserve a proper burial. Albedo lifted y/n up and carried them wordlessly back to the lab.

___________________________________________

So this was pretty angsty I'd say, so please read at your own discretion! This is the second fanfic I've so I would definitely appreciate guidance. Thank you for reading and have a great day♡

[anerdinallherglory]

Approaching Sun (31)

Author’s Note: Surprise readers! I wanted to celebrate the start of Spring Break (a very much needed break) by posting an update sooner than I expected. Also, it’s double the length, too. It’s practically two chapters in one!

Thank you always to my loyal readers. If I do not get back to you, please know that I see every review, every comment, and every mention. I am grateful for all of you!

Also, I have had a few readers tell me of songs they associate with A.S. and I just think that is so cool, because I too, connect music to books and fanfics that I read. I’d like to make a list of all my readers’ songs that they think fit A.S. and share them on my next update as the “soundtrack” for this story. Please let me know yours in the comments or through message.

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30

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Chapter 31: Not Enough

Sakura spun the sword, adjusting it on her left forearm as she pivoted on her heel to bring it around her in another protective arc. The blackness that hovered before her again instantly shielded her enemies from view which could be considered both advantageous and disadvantageous for her.

For the first, Mako and Hisa immediately rushed forward, using the ninjutsu as a cloak. They crisscrossed her, one taking a swipe at her from the front right and the other coming from the left. When Hisa’s blade came from the right, Sakura’s first instinct was to dodge and strike her foe in the side with her fists as she passed. But with her chakra currently restricted, Sakura ducked, pushed up on the handle of her assault weapon with her forearm, and brought her own blade naturally to Hisa’s right flank as she redirected the attack. Sakura hissed in disappointment because the cut was interrupted when she retreated and the result was shallow, not slicing deep enough to incapacitate her. When Hisa took a step back, clutching her flank, Mako suddenly appeared like a breaching shark from the deep only inches before Sakura’s face. He kicked her, quite hard, and Sakura fell into the sand, her weapon tossed aside from the blow. She scrambled for it as Mako grabbed hold of her ankle. She kicked free of his hold, but he was upon he, knees straddling her, and Sakura had no choice but to turn and face him.

He cuffed her hands above her head, saying quietly, “Don’t make this difficult! You will lose your life if you continue to resist. They’ll kill you. Stop struggling!”

Sakura cursed herself for drinking that damn tea, because if she had chakra, she would headbutt his face so far back into his skull that the impact would instantly kill him. Hisa’s face suddenly appeared above Mako’s rights shoulder.

“Killing her is the only option. We don’t have time to hold her hostage,” she chastised Mako with venom in her voice. “We have to get back to base quickly with the news of her death.”

“We could use her. She’s too important to kill immediately.” Came Mako’s response as he sat down hard against her bucking legs.  

“We don’t have time for this! The drug effects won’t last on her all the way back to Tanigakure!”

Perfect, Sakura thought. The confirmation she had been looking for. They were in fact the same party of ninja who had attacked her and Sasuke on their journey to Suna. Sakura still wasn’t entirely sure just how many belonged to their group.

“Reach in my pocket for the second dose. We will knock her back out if we have to!” came Mako’s reply, but it was too late. Sakura had been calling, calling, calling her chakra to her wrists this entire time and used that small amount of sudden strength to overpower Mako’s hold, swinging her arms quickly back down to her sides which caused Mako’s own arms to follow. His head hit the ground to the left of her neck and Sakura immediately rolled him, bestriding him the same way he had just held her.

Hisa didn’t hesitate a second as her weapon came swiping horizontally across Sakura’s back. Sakura predicted this and used Mako’s struggling momentum to once again roll him back on top of her. The blade bit into the flesh of his back and he screamed. In the same moment, Sakura used the last of her strength to wedge her knees between herself and Mako’s chest, shoving him out and back toward a surprised Hisa. They both fell tangled back into the shadowy mist, hitting sand somewhere out of sight.

Within seconds, Sakura scrambled toward the lost weapon and the sword she had dropped was within Sakura’s reach. But when she fisted the pommel, a foot stepped down on the blade. The black mist cleared to reveal the eyeless depths of the shadow demon above her.

“Enough of this,” he hissed. Shadows leaked from his eyes, down his face, and crawled down his chest, legs, and over the length of the weapon, icing Sakura’s fingers when they touched the handle. Sakura immediately recoiled in pain as her fingers turned a sickening black. She screamed, backing away from his advancing figure, hand tucked protectively in the crook between her arm and side.

Rage more than fear boiled beneath Sakura’s skin. What sick ninjutsu was this? It reminded her of a combination between Zabuza’s Hidden Mist technique and Shikamaru’s Shadow Control. But the damage was entirely unexpectedt, as if the shadows inside his body were made of a poisonous substance that bleached out the life of whatever it touched. This phantom before her controlled darkness directly, thickening what already existed in the air around them, and then leaking black chakra directly from his body which destroyed whatever came in contact with it. Like the shadows of death itself, Sakura was certain it had stollen all life from her immovable hand.

Sakura cursed and bolted to the left, seeking out the jagged rocks that she had created earlier. She had to test a theory. Sakura slowed as she clutched her hand, listening, keeping an eye on her feet at all times in fear of creeping black, knowing the phantom would pursue.

When his steps came closer, Sakura turned and faced him. A chakra-manipulated path cleared the darkness between them, allowing the two ninja to see each other in the surrounding haze. This confirmed one thing for Sakura: no one, including the ninja user himself, could see through the darkness he created. That was good to know.

Just one more thing then. She waited and the shade sneered as he approached. When he came withing a few feet away, shadows reached for her like grasping fingers. Just as she had seen Temari do all those years ago during the Chunin exams, Sakura backed away until the shadows stopped and retreated back into the skull of the demon who had projected them. She drew a line in the sand, confirming the distance of ten feet between them.

Ha. She thought to herself. Just like Shikamaru’s justsu then. Similarly, it had a limited reach, although it was much shorter than Shikamaru’s range and didn’t seem to be able to use the shadows in the air around it to lengthen or widen. It explained the purpose of the shadows in the air though; the phantom ninja needed to be in close range where individuals couldn’t see the approaching black tentacles of death.

Sakura scoffed. Apparently, this ninja couldn’t measure up to Shikamaru’s intelligence either, considering the fact that she had just figured out how his ninjutsu worked.

There was only one problem, though. Sakura was a close-combat shinobi as well, and her number one battle technique was her chakra enhanced strength. She needed a plan that would allow her to take a different approach.

She ran and her attacker pursued her, thickening the air before her but leaving the trail behind her completely clear.

Suddenly, Mako’s words from earlier came back to her, which gave Sakura an idea. It was the only thing Sakura could think of. She doubled back to where Mako and Hisa had been disposed. She followed the blood in the sand to the precipice of a jagged chunk of earth. When she came upon Mako, Sakura noted that Hisa was already gone, having abandoned him immediately. Hisa was probably blindly searching for Sakura among the shadow-cloaked mountains of ground and sand.

Sakura didn’t have much time. She placed her hand over Mako’s mouth so he wouldn’t scream and give away their location; not that it would do much good. If the phantom had room for a brain somewhere next to that pit of darkness in his skull, he would follow the blood as she had, or trace her tracks in the sand.

Mako, laying on his bloody back in the sand, shot his eyes open when Sakura’s hand pressed down hard on his mouth with her black hand. It was barely more than a useless appendage at this point, but with the help of her good hand, Sakura shoved her fingers in his mouth to silence him. He tried biting them, tearing into her blackened flesh. But Sakura couldn’t feel them at all, the deadening so complete that Sakura was afraid she would never regain use of it again.

With her free hand, Sakura searched Mako’s person. Her hand fisted triumphantly in his back pocket around something long and cylindrical. She pulled it free, praying frantically that it was what she theorized it to be. Bless you for being thorough and for telling me you had it, she thought to Mako as she surveyed the capped yellow injection tube. Whether it was Ashuwa or a second dose of whatever he had put in her tea, Sakura didn’t know. But whatever it was, Mako had revealed its purpose to Hisa which was to incapacitate her again once the current drug in her system stopped working.

Mako squirmed beneath her and Sakura contemplated killing him right then and there. But she just didn’t have time. Lucky bastard. She sprinted from him, the phantom stepping over the boulder in the same moment she darted from the concealed spot.

Did he see what she grabbed? Sakura wasn’t confident but couldn’t stop to try to interpret the eye-less facial expression the ninja wore. Remaining hopeful, she kept running.

Spotting a smaller set of tracks in the sand leaving the location, Sakura followed them, tracing them all the way to their source. When Sakura came upon Hisa, she almost collided with her directly, the blackened air only revealing her in the last second. Hisa didn’t even have a chance to react before Sakura uncapped the needle and dispensed a third of the dose into her neck, enough for her weight. The woman dropped to the ground and Sakura thanked Mako again for designing the perfect drug. Sakura didn’t estimate that she would remain unconscious for long, though, not having the full dose.

Sakura moved quickly. There was only a matter of minutes before the phantom caught up to her once again. Sakura quickly removed the cloak from Hisa’s shoulders and wrapped Hisa’s face covering around her own. She picked up Hisa’s small rapier from the ground.

She turned and walked toward the approaching footsteps, using the black at her back to her advantage this time, thankful for once that it would conceal Hisa’s body completely.

When she came into his view, the ninja balked, taken aback at her familiar presence. “Hisa?” came the hissing whisper. Sakura kept her head down long enough. Long enough to come parallel with him and turn the blade to relieve him of his head.  

He ducked as Sakura knew he would. Dropping the shortsword, she came back toward his face with the hidden syringe in the same hand. Like with Hisa, she caught him in the neck with the needle neck, and his black sockets widened as she fully pressed in the plunger.

Deathly black shot out of his eye sockets, gripping her remaining hand with blackness as it traveled up her arm. She cried out in both pain and fury as the medicine injected into the demon’s skin. He screamed and she pulled away as he dropped to his knees.

His consciousness remained momentarily, and Sakura turned, arms limp and useless from damage like Orochimaru’s had been. Turning, Sakura found the sword she had dropped. Bending down, she gripped it between her teeth, the taste of metal and sand coating her tongue. It tasted so, so sweet in that second.

Like another mist demon she remembered, Zabuza Momochi, Sakura wielded the blade between her teeth and pivoted to face this monster who was solely responsible for torturing Isao, spreading hatred and pain, and most of all, underestimating her.

Sakura would never be weak enough that anyone without substance, anyone who couldn’t consider themselves subpar to a legendary Sanin, could dispose of her easily. She didn’t need abilities. She didn’t even need chakra to make it out triumphant in these futile attempts on her life.

“You will regret your choices,” the phantom hissed disorientated. “The next generation won’t be able to handle what is coming.”

Sakura began to advance toward him, ready to mimic Zabuza’s killing blows with a fang-wielded blade. When she reached him, she glared down at him, bloodlust in her veins.

“War is a good thing. Anger is a tool to be used. Vengeance is necessary to strengthen.”

Sakura gripped onto her own blood-bent mind, talking to herself as she looked at this man…beast…whatever he was. And as she had done with Satou, Sakura now too, thought of Sasuke. A person so wrapped in darkness that the darkness presented itself in his very nature.

“You, like everyone else, deserve mercy,” Sakura announced after she dropped the sword from her mouth. Sakura had once blamed herself for being too weak to kill Sasuke, but in this moment, Sakura had an enlightening clarification. When someone so vile deserves death and you can find it in yourself to drop your too-ready hand of justice and offer them a second chance—that is real strength. It’s what Naruto would have done. It’s what Sakura chose to do now.

The man slumped forward, eyes level with the blade that stuck up from the sand. “You will see one day that I am right,” he hissed in finality.

“You have us confused with one another,” she announced to the fading darkness that began to disintegrate into light, the final sign signaling his unconsciousness. Sakura could just make out the sunrise in the east and it was beautiful, pale, and rosy. Sakura pretended it was her victory banner. She also believed it was a sign of hope.  

………………………………….

The second chakra pill worked another miracle. Sasuke felt replenished as he practically flew across the sand path in Isao’s memory. He had only run this fast a few times in his life and most recently, it was because of this same scenario. Kido, too, had kidnapped Sakura, and when Sasuke had found out, he had run.

Sasuke cursed himself now for his stupidity. His pride. His mission. He had left in anger and confusion after their kiss, left her alone in Suna despite his promise to never let this sort of thing happen again. Each step he took into the sand was echoed in his mind with an apology. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. He lost count of how many times he said it.

Chakra coursed through his limbs and Sasuke mentally prepared himself for war. Bones enveloped his body, ribs caging around him as he activated an incomplete Susanoo. Purple chakra radiated from him, a threatening beacon to the kidnappers he knew would be nearby.

Sasuke instantly recognized the projections of broken ground that penetrated up from the sand like a golden crown. Unlike in Isao’s shadowy memories, the morning light illuminated each pillar, revealing the sheer length and size of every new peak that Sakura had brought forth with her inhuman strength.  Sasuke didn’t even think of concealing his presence; he didn’t need to. He charged into the center of the fray, looking about him everywhere.

He looked behind a few of the crags, eyes finally landing on an individual. Bloody, but not unconscious, Mako lay with his face projected to the sky. His eyes shot open when Sasuke placed a heavy foot on his chest. He wanted to light him up with his Amaterasu and let the flames devour him alive until the ninja was nothing more than the sand beneath him.

Mako groaned and Sasuke unsheathed his katana, stabbing into this ninja’s shoulder. Although he didn’t need to pin him to the ground, it felt good to watch Mako clutch at the blade near his collar bone. The medic ninja was still alive despite his blood loss, but Sasuke relished in the thought that he wouldn’t be for long. Gaara might be mad at him for this later, but Sasuke didn’t care.

“Where is she?” The Uchiha hissed as he sent electricity down the length of his blade into Mako’s chest muscles. He began to spasm.

“Stop!” Mako screamed in pain.

“It will stop when you answer!” he yelled back, losing control of his own emotions. He twisted the metal for emphasis.

“Sasuke, stop!” came a familiar voice and Sasuke’s dropped the blade in shock as Sakura threw her shoulder into him.

“I don’t have enough chakra to spare to heal any more wounds,” she reprimanded him as if she were talking to a patient.

Sasuke blinked in chastisement at the pink-haired woman standing whole before him. He instantly pulled her into his Susanoo, crushing her to his side as he extended the ribcage of the Susanoo to include her. He looked around warily as if he couldn’t quite believe there was no current threat to Sakura’s person. He finally spoke, both relief and annoyance edging his words. “You’re okay?! Where are the others?!”

“I’m fine!” she announced, face suddenly red in embarrassment at their close proximity. Sasuke didn’t notice it at first as he held her back at arm’s length to check her current state. His stomach dropped when he saw her dangling arms, blackened, charred, and bruised. One of them currently had a small halo of green around it and its color paled in comparison to the other.

“Who did this to you?” he rumbled lowly, flashing a red and purple glare back down at Mako, who whimpered pathetically from his wounds. Sakura pulled from his hand and moved in front of the Uchiha, cutting off his direction of blame.

“Not him,” she excused, and her defense thoroughly pissed Sasuke off. Whatever Mako’s role was in this, Sasuke was certain that he was to blame for all of it.

Sasuke did his best to swallow his murdering thirst, eyes landing back on her like a lifeline to his sanity. “Tell me what happened,” he ordered. It was the only words that he could force past his teeth.

“I will explain everything to you, but I need your help first.” She made to step away from him, but Sasuke prevented it. Careful not to aggravate her injuries by touching her arm, Sasuke grabbed her shirt on reflex instead, pulling her back into the safety of the Susanoo.

“It’s okay. We are safe.” she breathed, smiling at him for the first time since he had left her, which brought Sasuke back some soothing clarity of mind. “They are all incapacitated.”

Sasuke’s eyebrow shot up into his bangs. “All of them?”

“It’s insulting that you are surprised,” she nudged him with her shoulder, turning her shoulders to face Mako. She bent to medically assess his new stab wound.

“I wasn’t expecting,” he admitted, but then fell into silence at her targeted look. “I mean, I thought that you were drugged!”

“I am,” she announced, narrowing her eyes further. “But I don’t know how you know that.”

Sasuke cursed at his slip. He couldn’t tell her just yet about how he practically forced Isao to spill all the information earlier. Instead, he said half-truthfully, “I ran into the kid.”

“Isao?” Sakura’s face lit up. “He’s okay? He made it back?” She slumped into the sand at Mako’s side. She practically deflated as her concern for the boy evaporated. “Bless that child.”

Sasuke had to agree. If it weren’t for him, Sasuke wouldn’t have been able to find his teammate this quickly. Even though Sakura hadn’t really needed his help after all. How strange that felt for Sasuke, to not be needed in the ways that he had once been. It was an unexpected jolt to his mindset toward Sakura. She had proved her strength repeatedly to him and he continued to see her as someone to protect.

Before he could even offer an apology, Sakura motioned toward Mako’s body. “My arms are a little preoccupied at the moment. Do you mind flipping him?”

Sasuke’s thoughts instantly darkened at the mention of both her arms and Mako. “What for?”

“I need to look at his back. See how deep the wound is.”

“He doesn’t deserve your help,” he replied instantly, wishing for the ninja to suffer in the same ways he had made his friend.

“I remember a time when you didn’t either,” Sakura replied with a smiling voice, “but I helped you back then, too. Now flip him.”

Sasuke scoffed at her statement, stooped, and flipped the ninja on his stomach. Mako let out a pained groan and Sakura “tsked” at his blatant carelessness. He kneeled beside her, ready to be her hands despite how much he hated the thought of her trying to help him.

“It’s not as deep as I thought. Hold his flesh together,” she ordered and Sasuke did so as she summoned a small stream of chakra to the gray fingertips of her semi-healed hand. The small amount did not last long, but it was enough. Just enough to stop the bleeding.

“Why are you helping me?” Mako asked faintly into the sand, and Sasuke immediately responded for her.

“You don’t need to know, so just shut your mouth so I don’t have to hear your voice.”

Sakura nudged him for his harsh words. “You sure have a lot to say today.” And Sasuke blinked at her again in surprise. She was right; he was talking a lot…for him. He responded with another scoff.

Sakura answered Mako’s question despite Sasuke’s threat. “You believe in war. I believe in peace. We are stronger united than when we are divided. This is how I create peace.”

Sasuke wasn’t following entirely, but he knew that Sakura was referencing words that had been exchanged between them, and Sasuke recognized them as the poison from a mindset consumed in darkness.

Standing again, Sakura said, “The hard part is going to be getting them all back to Sunagakure.”

“What do you mean?” Sasuke asked.

“They’re drugged. Not all of them are dead. They’ll wake soon,” she clarified for him.

Sasuke didn’t even think before saying, “I can remedy that.”

She ignored him, continuing, “We might have to make a couple trips. How many can you carry?”

Sasuke didn’t even respond to that ridiculous notion. Instead, he activated his Rinnegan once more, feeding it with the chakra from the chakra pill. A spiral appeared before them, revealing the central red-dune dimension. Sakura didn’t even have time to protest before Sasuke was throwing Mako’s limp body inside the hole.

“What are you doing?” Sakura asked, confused and stunned by his actions.

“They can remain in this dimension until we make it back to Suna. They can’t flee inside. They have nowhere to go.”

Sakura nodded in understanding. “Good idea!” she praised him, obviously relieved she wasn’t going to have to try to carry anyone with her arms practically useless.

“I’ll take you to the others.”

A female kunoichi Sakura called Hisa was the second to be transported to Kaguya’s center dimension. Then a different sort of being Sasuke considered warily. He didn’t look to be human. Sakura explained that he had been the most dangerous of them all. Sakura believed him to be the ringleader, though she wasn’t sure how many group members he truly led. It was still a confusing web of connections.

Sakura left out the fact that this ninja must be the one to have damaged her arms, but no good would come from Sasuke demanding that she confirm that for him. The Uchiha made a mental note of it as he tossed the unconscious ninja inside, already contemplating on ways to make him talk.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“One more,” she replied, and she led Sasuke toward a small adobe house that he hadn’t noticed before. It was alone in the desert, one wall completely destroyed, revealing the building’s stark clay interior.

Just before they reached the ruins, Sakura stopped when they approached the body of a large man. Sasuke was surprised to find this man not just unconscious; he was dead.

“He hurt Isao,” she defended automatically, ashamed that death had been necessary.

But Sasuke didn’t need an explanation from her. If she wouldn’t have, Saskue was pretty sure that he would have killed him. “Let the sand have him,” he declared, but Sakura shook her head.

“He belongs with them. They must be able to bury and grieve to find peace. We don’t want to give them cause for any further resentment.”

Sasuke wanted to say “you can’t be serious,” but he didn’t feel like arguing, because no matter what Sasuke could come up with to say next, Sakura would still be right in the end. She had a bigger vision in mind that Sasuke couldn’t quite connect sometimes. He just knew that he would always trust her to do the right thing, even if it wasn’t sensible, or in most cases, not what Sasuke would have done.

“Fine,” he declared, opening the portal once more. His breathing became labored as he pushed the effects of the chakra pill. Like with the others, Sasuke dragged the man’s body into the portal.

Sasuke also stepped through, leaving the gateway open between realms. He directed his attention to Mako, ice already coating his next words.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t wander too far from this spot. The dimension is endless and not of our world. You will only lose yourself and die in this place.”

Mako swallowed deeply in fear as he watched Sasuke’s form from his stomach.

“On second thought,” Sasuke sneered under his breath. “Feel free.” The portal closed behind the Uchiha as he exited. He would deal with all of them later, he thought. He needed to get Sakura back to Sunagakure first.  

………………………………

Sakura couldn’t help but whimper when her left arm wasn’t responding as quickly to her healing chakra. Her right hand—the very same one she had shoved into Mako’s mouth to keep him from screaming—had almost fully recovered as the medicine suppressing her chakra began to wear off and her healing abilities returned to her. Her left hand, however, was at first very numb, which Sakura knew was a very bad sign. But the longer she worked at healing, the more the pain began to intensify. It was almost unbearable, but Sakura was ultimately relieved at the burning sensation that indicated life. Sakura considered the differences between the two hands and all she could conclude was that distance must have had something to do with it since her right hand had a grabbed the blackened sword at his feet and her left had been near his face when she plunged the needle in his neck.

Sasuke supported her as they walked back to the Sand Village, though he suddenly seemed to her like he was the one that needed supporting. He stumbled in the sand and Sakura removed her good arm from his shoulders.

“I’m good. But are you okay?” she asked, noticing his strenuous breathing for the first time.

“Yes,” he fibbed, and Sakura knew it was a lie the minute he clutched his head to support it.

Redirecting her chakra back to her healed hand, Sakura immediately sought out Sasuke’s brow with her fingertips. He moaned with relief as green chakra lighted over it, but he instantly pushed her hand away. “Heal yourself.”

“What happened?” she responded, ignoring his demand. She found his forehead again. “There’s nothing I can do if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“I took two chakra pills. I’ll be fine though. I just need rest.” He removed her hand again.

Sakura inhaled sharply at the confession. “Why did you do that?”

“I had already depleted my chakra reserves when I found out you weren’t in the village. I panicked.”

“Overdosing on chakra pills is one thing,” she scolded, “but using them recklessly to overexert your Rinnegan is another. No matter how much chakra you have, you have limits with the Rinnegan.”

“It was my only choice,” he defended sharply, obviously masking his embarrassment with annoyance.

Sakura placed her glowing palm over his eyes, now certain of the source of his discomfort. Sasuke made to move her hand away once more, but she fussed like a mother when he tried. “Let me have my way, or we’ll be here longer.”

Sasuke released a small laugh that sounded like another scoff. Only Team 7 could tell the difference between Sasuke’s derisiveness and his sense of humor.  Sakura couldn’t believe he had the energy to laugh. But then something changed in the air around them and Sasuke grew very serious as he inhaled—the type of inhale someone made before having something important to say.

Sasuke finally managed to grab her fingers and he tugged them away after Sakura was satisfied with his treatment. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he held them for a moment that suggested tenderness. It was different from how their hands had brushed so many times before, like how they rested them against each other as they watched Suna’s desert sunset. This time, it was more like how Sasuke had held her hand between them in the medicine preparation room.

Finally working up the courage, Sasuke looked down at her feet and said, “I’m sorry.”

Sakura stared at the firm hold his fingers had on hers in wonder. And the truly amazing part was that he stillwasn’t letting go. “For what?” she whispered, not knowing what else to say for fear of him moving away.

“For leaving you behind in Suna. For leaving in anger. For not being there and letting this happen.”

Sakura didn’t let him continue. “Sasuke,” she began, catching his guilty eyes with her own. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I hope I have proved that to you, today. Please don’t burden yourself with worry for me. I can carry my own burdens and some. You already have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Sasuke searched her eyes with his. Sakura knew this was a rare occasion. Not many people would see the Uchiha open, unguarded, with care etched in every feature of his expression.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said suddenly, still holding her fingers tightly, and Sakura felt the whole world suddenly still around them. Even the desert wind seemed to stop. Was this the Sasuke she had always known was inside, no matter how roughly he displayed himself to the world?

“I’m sorry for what happened,” Sakura interrupted, afraid for another impending denial of her feelings. She knew what was coming and she didn’t want this small moment to end. “I won’t do that again.”

He paused and Sakura wondered if he was unsettled by the open acknowledgement of her stollen kiss.

He sighed and Sakura’s stomach dropped. She felt him hesitate, saw it in his face. But he resolved himself, declaring, “I came to a conclusion while I was away, and I have to say this while I have the nerve.”

Sakura nodded, ready for disappointment. She was more afraid of what he would say next than she had ever felt going toe-to-toe with her enemies just moments ago.

“Can it be enough for us to care for one another?” he asked, desperation cloaked with mock annoyance on his breath. “Can it just be enough for us to be friends as long as we are in each other’s lives sometimes? Can it be enough for us to be united in the same goal?”

Sakura’s heart sank and unhappiness hit her like the wave she was expecting. Tears threatened to brim her eyelids, but Sakura swallowed them down. Would he ever not be this thickheaded and stubborn? Would he ever let them be what they could be? Whether or not Sakura was simply high on victory or if she was genuinely losing her meekness in Sasuke’s presence, Sakura wasn’t sure.

She removed her hand from his. “Is it enough for you?” she finally asked, taking a step away from him. But he caught her fingers again, pulling her back gently to face him.

“Is that a no?” he asked emotionlessly, but Sakura saw the struggle in his eyes.

“When the answer becomes ‘yes’ for you, I will accept it as mine as well.” She pulled away, firmly this time. He couldn’t respond. Sakura knew why: he wanted to put this on her; he was always putting it back on her, afraid “because of her,” hesitant “because of her.” These were his excuses, but Sakura wouldn’t give him an out this time. It was his turn to choose.

They both knew that it was far too late for Sasuke to pretend he didn’t love her in the same way that Sakura loved him. But Sakura had learned that people love in many ways and not all people wanted to express that love romantically. Kissing Sasuke had been a mistake. She hated to call it that, but it was the truth of it. She didn’t want to steal from him what he wasn’t ready to give—what he wasn’t at peace with. It was his turn; he now knew where she stood.

………………………………..

When they finally made it back to the Hidden Sand Village, Kankuro was there to intercept them just as Sasuke had expected he would. The puppet-wielding ninja was beside himself with worry at seeing Sakura’s injuries, insisting that Sakura promptly return to the hospital. Sakura had insisted she tend to her own wounds back in their lodgings so she could rest. She immediately requested to see Isao, but Kankuro insisted she get some rest first.

It wasn’t until Sasuke insisted that he have an audience with him and Gaara, that he left Sakura to her own desires. As they parted, Sasuke tried to say something or grab her eyes with his, but she didn’t look at him. Not even once. And Sasuke ran his hand exhaustedly through his hair. He couldn’t think about them right now. A conference with the Kazekage would be the perfect distraction.

Gaara, miraculously, had returned before he and Sakura had, and Sasuke wondered just how fast news could travel. Sasuke privately joked with himself that the desert shared its secrets with the Kazekage. The wind and sand must speak to him if he found out things so quickly. It was a hypothesis that could explain a lot at least.

Sasuke shook his head as he followed Kankuro into the Kazekage’s office. He must be getting delirious from the effects of the chakra pills.

“Sasuke,” came Gaara’s raspy acknowledgement when the Uchiha stepped into the room. Gaara was surprisingly alone, which relieved Sasuke. He thought he would have to face Gaara with the “support” of his council. It would be easier to speak of recent events if only Gaara and Kankuro were present.

Sasuke nodded respectfully despite his feelings of resentment toward the two men at the moment for having let Sakura be kidnapped under their watch. As a ninja that was a part of this unpredictable shinobi world, Sasuke knew his anger was unjustified, but he wanted to be mad at anyone and everyone right now. 99% of his own anger was directed at himself, because Sasuke knew that he was more responsible for what happened than the Kazekage and his brother were. The Kazekage had been trying to be proactive and prevent something like this from happening. It just didn’t turn out that way.

The Kazekage seemed to share Sasuke concern for discreetness, because he cloaked the room in sand as he had done the first day of Sasuke arrival. It filled every crevice, thickening to soundproof the room.

Sasuke opened the portal into Kaguya’s central dimension without further delay. He walked into the vortex, not surprised the group remained exactly where he had left them. The only difference was that they were conscious, a fact that slightly irked the Uchiha.

One by one, he grabbed each ninja, tossing them forward into the Kazekage’s domain. Hisa clutched at her dead counterpart, holding onto the deceased brute. Sasuke found grim satisfaction in Mako’s subdued, yielding persona. Being present before the Kazekage was far more terrifying than being stuck in a desolate dimension.

But the individual that held both Sasuke and the Kazekage’s attention was the wraith-like individual that bled darkness from a small spot on his neck. It was his only injury.

Gaara carefully considered him, crossing his arms and surveying him emotionlessly as he did most enemies that he regarded.

Darkness suddenly began to ooze from the man’s eye sockets and Sasuke’s temper suddenly flared. He looked to Gaara, and the ninja nodded his permission.

“Only demons don’t seem to know when they’re in the presence of other demons. Shall I show you hell?”

Sasuke’s eye suddenly began to bleed as he formed the tiger seal for fire release. “Amaterasu!”

The black flames clung to the phantom, incinerating what Sasuke realized was dark masses of sinewing, vaporized flesh. The phantom hissed. Then screamed, then began to plead for mercy. Hisa began to cry and Mako turned his face away from their leader.

Gaara came up beside Sasuke to speak to the wraith as he writhed. Sasuke released the Amaterasu and the flames receded.

The Kazekage crouched, an arm on his knee. “From one demon to another, I urge you to leave your shadows behind in hell and step out into the light. Only demons desire war. And war breeds more demons.”

Sasuke clutched his eye in silent suffering, and Gaara dismissed him. “I’ll handle the rest. I’ll let you know what we find out.”

Sasuke nodded, not waiting for any further excuses to depart. He had delivered them into the Kazekage’s care. But what those ninja didn’t know was that Sakura’s mercy held Sasuke more confined than it did the Kazekage, a demon just as he had said, whose territory had been breached.

……………………

Sakura was finishing binding her tender left hand in medical bandaging, using up the last of her burn solvent that she had created at Suna’s hospital, when Sasuke walked in.

He opened the door, caught her eyes with his, and tried to hide the bloody track down his face from her with his hand. She was on her feet instantly, pulling him to the bed that he had staked his claim on.

She felt his forehead and it was hot, too hot. He had done it this time. She sighed, summoning the small reserve of chakra behind the diamond mark on her forehead.

She expected Sasuke to scold her for using what little she had left on him, but he didn’t seem to notice in his extreme exhaustion. “Thank you,” he whispered, and Sakura retreated to fetch water for him.

He gulped it greedily and Sakura helped him shrug out of his outer layer of clothing. Sand fell from his hair and clothes in the same way hers had earlier. “I’m better now,” he whispered, the first words spoken between them since their disagreement in the desert.

Sakura nodded, making to move away, but he grabbed her hand for the third time that day.

“Don’t be angry,” he begged, his exhaustion making him suddenly careless to conceal his true intentions with fake displeasure and irritation.

“Why do you think I am angry?” she asked emotionlessly.

“I just want what’s best for you. I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered in defeat. This side of Sasuke startled Sakura. He was becoming more undefended, open with emotions in a way she had never seen him before. Was it because he didn’t have anything to hide anymore? Was he past his denials and his pretending?

“I know,” she squeezed his hand back. “But your concerns are groundless.”

“Tell me how,” he pleaded.

She sat beside him on his bed, and he tilted his ear to her, never removing his hand from hers. She took a breath and told him the truth. Told him everything he needed to know. “I do not love you sacrificially, Sasuke. I do not choose you knowing that my life or happiness could be forfeit by doing so. I choose you because I can keep up with you. Because something like your absence wouldn’t be enough to determine my permanent happiness. I will choose to go on, content with only the thought that I know you are out there somewhere loving me if that is all that I have in the moment.”

She took a breath and continued before he could respond. “I am strong enough to handle whatever comes my way as a result of loving you. And I have absolutely no doubts in my feelings, my happiness, and what I am willing to compromise to be with the person I love most.”

Sakura reached tenderly to turn his face to hers and their eyes met. She touched his forehead in the same way he had done to her many times before. “That person is you,” she reassured him, offering him a sincere smile as she removed her hand from his forehead.

Then Sasuke leaned forward. Very close to her, and Sakura bit her lip to keep from reaching for his with her own. “Is all of that true?” he requested again, suddenly breathless. And Sakura knew later that it was just to be sure before what came next.

“Yes,” she breathed. And she didn’t have to reach for him, because he was suddenly reaching for her. His hand found her chin and Sakura waited for his choice. She waited for him to move. And he did.

“Then my answer is no; it’s not enough for me either.” When his lips carefully parted her own, Sakura knew without a doubt that he had decided to find some way possible for them, a path where he could choose her, too.

[op-sheepy]

One Piece Manga spoilers ahead...

Got a message from someone expressing disappointment that the recent OP manga chapters dashes their headcanons that the Heart Pirates are medically trained... or at least competent enough at it... I can see how the latest chapters could somehow change this perception which is a totally valid interpretation. (Likely to be canon too though it could all be interpreted some other way with our favorite headcanons intact.. :D)

Of course, bringing my attention to this could only mean that they wanted to be convinced otherwise. Using my favorite fandom tools of some recontextualization, selective interpretation, and some basic relevant medical tidbits (my friend preferred calling it me 'bulsh*tting' my headcanons into the realm of possibility, which fair) I did manage to convince them (it helps that they really wanted it to be true lol) and they've convinced me to share here. Remember to take the following with a grain of salt and to not take anything mentioned that's medically related seriously or as an absolute fact that would automatically reflect in real life. I mean, it's a manga and we're definitely stretching things here... Anyways, here goes...

Let me start off with this panel:

Now it's been years since I've had any use for BLS but still the first thing that struck me when I saw this was, 'That is not how one does chest compressions...'

You can do a quick search for proper hand placement for CPR and it will tell you that the heel of one hand is at the center of the chest with the other hand on top of the first hand, fingers interlocked. Now, I'm not really that good at making out details from manga panels but the hand placement does not look correct at all.

My first instinct was to make another WIP fic where their captain drills them and they review this (which I did do lol). And then made my assumptions if I go with the premise that the crew is doing their best to their knowledge.

This would bring up the following points:

As mentioned, the hands do not look correct for chest compressions.

Water is spouting from Luffy's mouth like a fountain suggesting that the pressure being exerted on the chest is pushing the water out.

The purpose of chest compressions in CPR is not to expel water but to emulate the heart beating and maintain circulation. (so the Oxygen can get to your brain continuously)

The incorrect hand placement would then suggest that Bolero Hat guy is not trying to maintain circulation but instead trying to expel the liquid from the lungs. Sort of like a lung massage. This is somewhat confirmed in a succeeding panel with them with someone trying to affirm whether they've gotten rid of all the water.

Basically, they are clearing the airway. Which they would only do if they've established that Luffy's circulation is fine and that the obstruction is the immediate issue that needs to be addressed.

Now, during drowning, generally, aspirated water should end up in the stomach because of laryngospasm (vocal cords spasming). For some reason, maybe force of will (because he did look like he was still screaming while he was drowning) or his strange anatomy (because he is rubber), the water somehow ended up in his lungs. We assume this because Luffy with water in his stomach looks like this:

Not as relevant but we can also assume that his rubber powers affect the displacement of liquids within the different membranes inside his body.. because otherwise, the next image wouldn't be possible (Bolero hat guy would have had better luck performing some modified thoracentesis with a spigot)

If you're still following my rambling, what we've pretty much established is that whatever the Hearts were doing it wasn't necessarily the chest compressions done in CPR or rather, it has maybe passed that (also note the lack of defibrillator use which should be available in that submarine).

Right after clearing his lungs of water, they move on to the next thing they need to address which is his lack of consciousness ('Open your eyes, man!') because from the image above the 'sh---h' sound coming from Luffy suggests that he is already breathing.

For alteration of consciousness, the treatment would depend on the underlying cause. Here the presumption was the lack of Oxygen (or whatever gas is being breathed in One Piece).

This is pretty much the scene that shows them seemingly not knowing what to do but given the circumstances, I thought it was understandable. Also, Luffy's physiology is pretty unique. I doubt squeezing the lungs would have been viable as a method of removing the fluid (it would have been postural drainage, some modified Heimlich, or straight up inserting a tube) had he not been made of stretchy rubber. Any further intervention without the accompanying knowledge could be more detrimental. Here is a picture of our other resident genius doctor saying as much regarding administering medication he doesn't know enough about.

Since no return to consciousness was imminent and there was no doctor to make a diagnosis and prescribe treatment, the team is left to determine the next step by themselves. (Look at them looking for their captain who happens to be their doctor...)

'I don't know what more to do for him,' suggests that they've already performed all necessary procedures based on the circumstance and Luffy's unique anatomy.

If we dissect the scene further, their panicked suggestions could only come from people who have some passing medical knowledge.

Someone suggests giving him some pills and someone quickly rebuffs by suggesting giving him an injection instead. Between the oral route and intravenous injection for drug administration after drowning, the latter should be the preference (to maintain the airway and because of possible injury to any part of the airway). But they probably have prior experience on the difficulty of getting a normal needle through Luffy's rubber skin.

It also suggests that they have a specific medication in mind to give him as they are arguing route.

Someone notes that Luffy is pale. As we are assuming that they've established the lack of a possible cardiac arrest, they should be looking into addressing any other possible underlying cause. It could be blood loss, poor peripheral circulation, anemia, hypoglycemia, hypotension, etc.

Ultimately, though, the team was successful in reviving him. Given that Luffy pretty much recovers from eating excessive amounts of food, he'll be fine and will probably be rejoining the battle good as new. The same could not be said for the Polar Tang's food supply.

TL;DR: The Hearts did a good enough job. Their captain would still drill them but he'd still be proud. And now they really need to win that battle because they'll be out of food.

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 15 (Kiro’s Chapter) Part 3 [Land of Map Country] Translation [CN]

I’ve mentioned before in an earlier post about how s2ch15 is the BEST Kiro chapter I have ever read so far in MLQC. This part 3 is the start of it all.

Thanks again for helping @link4eva​

 ***Once again DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO BE SPOILED!!!*** 

Enjoy~

For the previous translation of Chapter 15: Part 1, Part 2.

[Land of Map Country]

The footsteps behind me suddenly sped up as if they were close. I stepped forward without hesitation and quickly jumped into the tram.

The tram closed its doors at the same time and started to move.

I looked out the window behind me with lingering fears but saw no one.

Kiro: Don’t worry, he can’t catch up to you. This is a superhero’s car.

Kiro seemed to read my thoughts and comforted me in a relaxed voice.

I steadied my breathing, looked around the car, and found that the monitor on the roof was lit with red dots, so I turned off the map and waved to it.

MC: Thanks for all the help, superhero!

Kiro: Eh? Wasn’t that already obvious?

He deliberately dragged out his words to show disappointment which made me instantly laugh.

Kiro: I thought you would make a long list about how you really feel right now.

MC: True emotions can be said face-to-face.

Hearing my words, Kiro was silent. After a long time, he laughs and replies to me in a low voice.

Kiro: I’ll remember what you said.

Kiro: I have controlled the route of this tram and it will bring you safely to my side.

Kiro: Next, Miss Chips will have a good rest in the car and she will arrive at her destination soon.

“Soon”…

I was taken aback for a moment and felt a somewhat uneasy.

Do I really want to see Kiro? Why did he hide during this time?

I glanced out of the window and the fog blurred the boundary between heaven and earth, looking chaotic and at a loss.

To this day, I still don’t know why Kiro suddenly put on the “Helios” mask, but I am quite sure what must have happened.

He is like a Rubik’s cube, its colors shuffled with different secrets scattered on each side. ***Sidenote: What an absolutely perfect analogy to describe Kiro!***

No matter how hard I try, I can’t put together a complete Kiro.

He seemed to have carried many secrets and heavy responsibilities from the beginning.

I know that everyone has secrets and they don’t want to show them to others.

He didn’t want to tell them, so I didn’t ask.

Because of an adult’s self-righteous maturity and tacit understanding. Because he is afraid of touching the corners he does not want to touched….

Because I am afraid of being hated.

And in this way, it seems that the distance between us is gradually drawn further.

I took a deep breath and decided to abandon those inexplicable adult principles and looked at the surveillance with a sincere expression.

Even if he will be hated, I have to hold on tightly to his hand.

MC: Kiro, I miss you very much.

MC: Although I don’t know why you left suddenly, but now that you found me, I’m really happy.

MC: In fact, I have been looking for you all this time and I have been looking forward to seeing you.

MC: No matter what happens to you or what you become, I don’t care.

MC: To me, a healthy Kiro is the most important thing.

There was silence over the collar. After a long time, there was small, low voice.

Kiro: MC, I….I miss you too.***Sidenote: WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! TAT***

Kiro: I have also been looking forward to meeting you at that time. You may not believe it but I missed you much more than you can imagine.

His voice is very soft, but I can hear it very clearly.

During this time, the tram came to a halt slowly and I found that it stopped at the door of a department store near the city center.

Kiro: MC, go to the underground parking lot.

His voice was muffled and a little nostalgic.

Kiro: You can just follow the No.2 safe passage and go down. The signal in the underground parking lot isn’t good…..I’ll have to cut off the communication for now.

MC: Okay, I’ll go in right away.

Kiro:…Mm. Miss Chips, goodbye.

Kiro: Also, to “see” you again, I am very happy.

As soon as his voice fell, the collar was completely silent. My heart felt a little strange but I quickened my pace nonetheless.

Maybe he listened to what I said just now.

Thinking of this, I started running, wanting to see him even sooner.

Running out of the safe passage, I saw a figure standing at the door.

MC: Kiro!

I ran and leaped forward. The figure paused, then slowly turned around, revealing a sharp profile—

At the moment I met his eyes, my footsteps became slower and slower, and I finally stopped in the open space a few meters away from him, unable to smile.

MC:….Helios.

Helios looked straight at me. The indifference between his brows and eyes made my heart feel weak.

Why is this happening?

He clearly said just now, “I’m looking forward to meeting you.” Is it a temporary remorse? Or can he only face me in this way?

I couldn’t hold his cold gaze and lowered my head in a daze.

That invisible line seemed to have shown up again, between me and him.

No wonder his tone was so helpless and low just now. No wonder he never mentioned meeting with me.

He still remained in the circle of the map and refused to come to me.

Helios looked at me, concealing the complex emotions in his eyes and his mouth became a sharp thin line.

Helios: From the look on your face, you really don’t want to see me.***Sidenote: DAMN!!! TALK ABOUT A COMPLETE 180 JUST LIKE THAT!!!***

I took a deep breath, smiled and raised my head.

MC: How could that be! I think it’s a coincidence, Helios, meeting you here like this.

No matter what kind of him, he is him. If Kiro only wants to face me in this way, then I will do so with sincerity.

He turned and strode towards the depths of the parking lot but something seemed to flash in his eyes.

I ran to keep up and walked to his side.

He didn’t wear a collar, so he should be a “human” card. I deliberately kept my distance from him to avoid accidentally touching him.

MC: Helios, where are we going?

Helios: It’s “I”, not “we”.

MC:…..

I frowned but since he didn’t flat-out refuse me, I just assumed he accepted that I would act with him.

Soon we walked into a fire control room.

Helios stopped in front of an unremarkable wooden door in the room. He took a key from the door frame and opened the wooden door.

Behind it seems to be a utility room. The space isn’t large.

MC: What are we…”you” doing here?

Helios: Last time you said that you want to investigate the hunter game and the lighthouse. Are there any results?

MC:…..

MC: Helios, the conversation should be about you and me, not selectively ignoring each other’s problems.

Helios: Let me ask again, what is the relationship between the hunter games and the lighthouse?

I calmed down my emotions and explained my conjecture about their relationship based on the overall situation.

He listened without saying a word and squinted when he heard that the hunter game might be related to opening the lighthouse.

Helios: According to you, the hunter game relies on powerful Evol energy fluctuations to open the lighthouse.

MC: Yes.

Helios: How did you open the lighthouse last time?

MC:….. After being pricked, there was a “click” and I fell.

He frowned and looked at me with a confused look.

Helios: Describe all the events that occurred at that time.

Helios: Start from when you squatted by the stone slab.

MC: Were you close by?

My eyes lit up and looked at Helios. Hearing my question, he instantly stopped.

Helios: Don’t ask boring questions, just say it.

MC:….I just squatted there, carefully looked at the slab for a while, then reached out and touched it.

MC: It’s like it was alive and then I found a cut on the palm of my hand and my feet lit up.

MC: Then I felt the ground under my feet moving along with the sound of gears turning and I fell.

MC: And then, I met you.

He raised his eyebrows, showing a familiar expression of disdain.

Helios: Blindly feeling your way around without knowing what’s hidden, how foolish.

MC: It was just a matter of trial and error.

***Sidenote: Had to look these above quotes up online cuz Google Translate wasn’t making any sense and found out it was an idiom. Basically, Helios thought it wasn’t wise for MC to just reach out and touch things without knowing what would happen afterwards. I hope I interpreted it right***

He ignored me, turned around and took out a sealed test tube container.

Helios: Reach out your hand.

I do not know why he said this.

He took out the knife he carried close to his body and quickly cut my finger with a sharp movement. I didn’t even feel any pain.

Helios: Drip the blood in by yourself.

MC: …..

Although I was very confused, I obediently dripped the blood from my finger into the glass test tube according to his instructions.

Worried that it wasn’t enough, I squeezed my finger a little bit harder.

Helios: What are you doing?

He snatched the test tube, furrowed his eyebrows and stared at me.

MC: What? Didn’t you say to drip blood into it?

Helios: …..

Maybe it was my very calm attitude that made him speechless, but his mouth was slightly open and he didn’t say anything.

In the end, he just lowered his head and opened the paper bag in his hand, took out the iodine and band-aids from it, and threw them to me.

MC: You forgot again. No matter what you say or do, I trust you.

There was a momentary pause in his fingertips, trembling slightly. He didn’t speak but he knew what I was talking about.

Whether you are Kiro or Helios, yes, it’s all the same to me.

My heart will always trust you unconditionally.

Helios watched in silence as I bandaged my finger, took out a small knife, turned the hilt and handed it to me.

Helios: Keep this with you.

I looked at the heavy knife which made me feel somewhat distant but familiar.

A long time ago, I also received this knife.

Many things are like a circle. I thought I had walked for a long time, but I found that I had come to a certain corner where I had left.

MC: Is this kind of self-defense alone really enough?

Helios: No need to repay me.

I quickly took the knife and saw him turning around to leave the room and I hurriedly followed after him for a few steps.

He stopped, making me pause mid-step, then he put his hand on the doorknob, horizontally in front of me.

Helios: Stay in here, I put enough aerosol in it.

MC: If you’re going to solve the hunter game, I can help you.

Helios: I said no need.

Helios: I will end this game in my own way.

He didn’t give me time to speak and took a big step back, closing the door of the utility room with a “bang”.

“Click--”

The door was locked.

-End of Part 3-

Continue to Part 4 

[starshipsofstarlord]

Can’t Be Selfish | Damon Salvatore

These were your last breaths, they were staggered and slow as you breathed through the oxygen mask. This wasn’t how you wanted your death to be, in your mind it was supposed to be meaningful, not only painful. Your death would serve no purpose, it was just one of many. There were so many things that you were unaware of, like how everyone back in  Mystic Falls were doing.

You left a couple of years back, and you had never returned. A part of you wanted to look back, but you had made a life for yourself, and the involvement of vampires, witches and werewolves and whatever else was new would ruin that. Your husband stroked the back of your hand as your children said their goodbyes.

This was not what you had expected when you were younger. At one point, you were dating a vampire, his name was Damon Salvatore. Just thinking of him made you feel as though you were opening up a history book. There were a lot of bad times, from when he turned his humanity off to where he was almost killed by the Originals. But they didn’t triumph over the good, like the morning bubble baths you soaked in together, or the pub games you participated in at the Grill.

For all you knew, he could be dead now. And you wouldn’t even be told, and that was how you wanted it. That life that you had lived was insanely dangerous, it was a surprise that you hadn’t died sooner.

Chase, your husband, kissed your forehead, as he got up from his seat. Your children crushed you in a light hug, he was going to take them to his parents’ place for the night. They didn’t need to see you get any sicker, it wasn’t fair on them, they were only three and five.

Before your significant other could leave, you grabbed his hand with a gentle grip. You weren’t strong enough to hold it any tighter. “Will you come back?” You asked him. You didn’t want to spend the night alone. Frankly, you were terrified. There was no longer another side to cross into, maybe you’d just be enveloped into nothing. A part of you hoped you would, so that you wouldn’t need to reminisce about your regrets or the past you had tried so hard to forget.

But it was unforgettable. Mystic Falls would always be a part of you, whether you wanted it to be or not. That place was like hell on earth, there was so much death and pain and suffering that had rendered from the borders witches had installed. Somehow you had escaped all of that madness, but death had been persistent, and followed you all the way to your new home.

“Of course I will.” He smiled, slowly removing your hand from atop of his, placing one more kiss upon the skin before he disappeared out of the door, leaving you alone in the white walled room.

It was all too light. You were adapted to darkness. A part of you had hoped that you would die a vampire, at least then you would have lived longer, or so you would have anticipated. Even being shot would be better than this ultimatum. It would be quick, in a sudden instant you would be gone. If you could ask for one last wish, it’s be for this process to hurry its ass up, because it sure as hell was taking its sweet time.

For a moment, you thought you were hallucinating. A shadow crossed in front of the hospital bed, one that carried a familiar eeriness. It had black hair, and blue eyes that made you freeze in place. “(Y/N)?” Damon asked in shock.

He was doing his bidding for Cade, with his brother. They came into hospital to kill the already dying, and here you were, your face drained and thinned out, your eyes lacking the lustre of life that they had once held so dearly.

“Damon, is that really you?” You couldn’t be sure, the doctors had upped your medication to make your ease that bit easier. The vampire could feel his eyes welling up at the sight of you. He could just leave right now, and find someone else to contribute to the cause.

As he thought that, Stefan leant himself against the door frame. He was unhinged, he would make him do this. “Yeah, it is.” His voice croaked as he came closer to you, analysing everything that was different about you. There was a ring on the side, one far too big for your pencil thin fingers, but he presumed it belonged to you.

“Of course you had to show up when I was on my deathbed.” You laughed to yourself, wincing when you threw your head back onto the hospital pillow.

“You can’t die…” He spoke more to himself than you. You were too young, too kind to die. But maybe you were dying because you were too human. At his optimistic statement, you smiled.

“Don’t go soft Salvatore, it doesn’t suit you.” At that, you began coughing, it was visible that it was causing you pain. If only you had stayed in Mystic Falls, then they could have stopped this. Bonnie could have made a potion, or he could have…

“I’ll turn you.” Stefan shook his head with a dark smirk, but he let you respond instead. The least he could do was give an old friend her last words.

“No Damon, you won’t.” The last thing you wanted was to be a vampire. It would be like a cruel game against your family, messing with the minds with the fact that you wouldn’t leave this room to cowering from the sunlight. “I don’t want that. I just want this to hurry up. The end has finally come for me, and nothing can be done, or at least nothing normal.”

He was desperate to help you, but you hadn’t changed. You were still independent, wanting to do everything yourself. That was one of the first qualities he had realised about you when you had met, and it had made him more attracted to you. But now he was cursing it. If only you were open to interpretation, then maybe you wouldn’t be in this defeated state.

“Brother, it’s time.” Stefan spoke, walking in and shutting the door. “Make sure to make it quick, there are others that need to also be taken care of.” At the tone and words of Stefan, you frowned. It was so un- Stefan- like, or at least from what you remembered.

“What’s he talking about Damon?” In this moment, there was a heavier weight of trust on Damon’s shoulders.

“He has to kill you.” Stefan answered in his place, placing on hand on the end rail of your bed. However, your reaction wasn’t what he had expected. He thought tears would fall and you’d reek of fear, but you were rather calm.

“Okay.” You answered, breaking Damon’s heart for a second time. “Just pull these out.” You showed him your arm which had tubes going through it, tape holding them in place.

“I’m sorry.” He said, sitting on the side as he removed them all individually. Everything became slow after a couple of minutes, he held you as you became dazed. And then you went limp, he could no longer hear your heart or the blood pulsing through your veins.

Out of everyone, you least deserved to go to hell, but from his duty, he had sent you to Cade’s dominion.

When Chase returned, it was just your body. He had come back, but not to what he had expected.

[trashlord2020]

Adam Smasher (Cyberpunk 2077) 18+

          A-Z NSFW Headcannons

 WARNINGS: dubious consent (suggested) Necro (only mentioned in passing) and a callous disregard for partners enjoyment and wellbeing. 

I provide these warnings so if any of it bothers you at all you can choose to not read this. If you disregard this and get upset by what you read, you've forfeit your right to complain, fight me. These are of course my own interpretations, in no way is this a 'end all be all'

A = Aftercare 

What, letting you live isn't enough? But seriously, don't expect anything resembling 'care' outta this guy. At the absolute most if you happen to be in a room he owns you could get real lucky and he'll leave you to sort yourself out...just don't be there when he gets back.

B = Body part 

He's a full body cyborg, every part is his favourite. He's almost constantly having things tuned or updated whether it's through Arasaka or his own hard earned eddies, But if he had to pick? His Hands, they're the thing that could end his partner in the moment with just one strong squeeze and having their life literally under his hands does something primal for him. His favourite body part of his partner? He might disguise it under mocking comments and insults but deep in there somewhere there's a man still and he's a thigh man for certain. Thicker they are, the better grip they provide and if his partner is able to pay enough attention they might catch how he almost caresses the skin...

C = Cum

Bodily fluids? disgusting. When he got his ah, 'upgrade' he most certainly passed on that. Sorry ! Sections provide required lubrication (don't forget to bring your own!) for the sake of avoiding friction but his own brand of 'popping the cork' is more of a build up in static and electricity. One he can control the build up of by adjusting 'sensitivity'.

D = Dirty Secret 

He's not a shy kinda guy, he'll have his partners against the window just to brag if there's one available. No, this is more of a vulnerability than anything? Under the metal casing of his chest on each side the tubes and connectors tucked away are very sensitive. The purpose is so he knows if something is amiss or stuck and needs tending too but this has provided a sort of erogenous zone, one he's not at all keen to share with another.

E = Experience 

Before his full body conversion you could say he was quite experienced, if paid partners counted of course. It's always been about him though, even when he (rarely) chooses to provide a helping hand it's been more of a show of dominance than anything. Now with his full Cyborg body and working for the worlds most powerful Corp he rarely finds himself having to pay, most people are either curious enough...or too scared to say no.

F = Favourite Position 

Anything where he can shove his partners head down and bend them across something be it the floor, bed, table or counter He'll use it. As mentioned before walls and windows make a good substitute too. He prefers to be above his partner and them in a position of vulnerability where they have no control, he's in charge here and he takes every opportunity to prove that. It's very rare to find one self facing towards him, often too 'intimate' for his liking.

G = Goofy 

If a partner has the guts they might be surprised to find that a little back and forth sarcasm and snark is enjoyed, even respected. Just be mindful not to insinuate any insults on his behalf, he won't take that lightly and if (when) he grows bored of the talk he'll make that known none too gently, better catch the hint sooner rather than later. So I'd say about 85% serious and 15% Snark.

H = Hair

 He's got a slappable head, bald as a plucked chicken and well...he's all metal down there. No surprise.

I = Intimacy 

If you really squint and tilt your head you might be able to trick yourself into believing the way he may cage his partner in from above as almost 'intimate' but it's really not...Just a show of pure dominance, nothing about enjoying the heat pouring off them at all... In all honesty this isn't making 'love' he's simply not capable of that, likely never was. He may lower his voice till you feel it more in your bones than hear it to whisper awful, dirty things only your both privy too but there's no true intimacy in his actions or words.

J = Jack Off 

Araska didn't provide him with his 'tool' no, that's something he chose to indulge in with eddies from his freelance years and when the work was done he certainly took time to test things out. Nowadays he rarely indulges, why would you need to if he could have almost anybody that happens to spark his interest.

K = Kink

Breath play, no of course not his. The act of cutting somebodies life line off, holding them in suspense and watching the fear grow in their eyes as they wonder if he's even going to bother letting go...it really gets him riled up. The only reason he does bother to let them go instead of squeezing a little harder is that a corpse hardly has the same appeal, don’t mistake it for mercy.

L = Location 

While Adam owns his own room he often has little use for it, spending at best an hour in there a day. You'd be lucky to be taken back there. He often finds himself in hotels/resorts instead, not his issue if it gets trashed then and nobodies going to barge in to investigate all the noise, not when mutters of 'smasher' quickly spread like wild fire. Enjoy your walk of shame back home. :)

M = Motivation 

Often it's just a a general build up that leads to him indulging but a bloody fight will always leave him with some built up 'charge'. Many of his partners in recent years have been people he's done a recent job with, something about watching the blood steam off their cybernetics as they catch their breath really does it for him. Basically a callous and shared disregard for life is what would really catch his interest, otherwise it's purely down to cosmetics in which case don't expect a repeat.

N = NO 

Making love...you probably saw this coming a mile away. As mentioned he's not shy, he knows what he wants and has little issue with obtaining it but if you're expecting a tentative partner who takes care of your needs? Keep looking, he'll never be that.

O = Oral  

He's got no means of which to give oral, his jaw is made out of metal and there's no tongue hidden away. A small (very small) part of him laments not being able to taste what's he's enjoying but again, it would of been more for his enjoyment than anything. On the other hand he certainly enjoys the sight of somebody figuring out their way around him with hands and tongue, the tremor in their hands is something he picks up on without fail but this is never how he achieves his end goal. Attempting to blow Adam Smasher is the closest thing You'll get to foreplay.

P = Pace 

A constant rough pace from start to finish, as mentioned somewhere above he can control his sensitivity so if he finds his charge building up too quick for his likening he doesn't have to slow down, just dial things back a little. There's no stuttering or slipping either as it's all controlled due to years of working with his cybernetics and yet, somehow it never fails to feel so raw and animalistic.

Q = Quickie 

He likes for things to be 'to the point' as he's certainly not here for tea and biscuits... If he's free for the whole day and just finished a big job you might want to look into hiring a wheelchair for the next week but on average he's here to get his jollies and move on. Make sure to undress yourself though, it's an obstacle and we all know how much he enjoys tearing through those.

R = Risk

What your everyday joytoy may consider a risk he may simply see as a little spice to make things more interesting. He doesn't care if somebody was dumb enough to walk in on him but they sure as hell better be quick about leaving, he doesn't share. If his partner has (foolishly) made it obvious they don't want to be caught? He might find that a little insulting and make it a point for them to be caught or seen, again, it's about the dominance he has over them.

S = Stamina

There's no refractory period, none. If he wants to go again he can, the only thing that's going to stop him is the potential heat build-up from too many overcharges in too short a time. This right here is why you'll want to bring your own lube, things are going to get sore and quickly otherwise.

T = Toy

What he's got going on down there could be considered a 'toy'. Lots of interesting features he enjoys tormenting his partners with. That's not enough for you? He's not going to pretend to be thrilled about it but if you somehow got your own toys on hand then so long as they don't get in the way of his enjoyment, use away. Likely the only real chance you have at getting your own enjoyment to be honest, just don't try using them on him. He won't be amused.

U = Unfair 

He enjoys demeaning and talking down to his partners, talk about how 'easy' they were or laugh at how weak they're proving to be. Might physically tease, bring them to the edge if he's super into the moment but he's only going to push you over if you really beg for it...not often he will though, he's in charge and he gets to decide how this plays out.

V = Volume  

Besides all the inner workings of his cybernetics powering away and the times he decides to speak? Practically silent. No moans or gasps as he has no need to breath. If a overcharge proves to be particularly powerful (usually due to a lengthy build up) his Voice emitter may play some static feedback, closest thing you'll get to a groan. Besides, his partner will be more than making up for the silence.

W = Wild Card 

He's bisexual but straight leaning. It's leftover from the gang he ran with once long ago when he was a everyday nobody. Nowadays he's simply not bothered what others think, incapable of considering it even. Women and more feminine leaning partners will have an easier time garnering his attentions but anyone's game if they prove themselves interesting enough.

X = X-Ray

Custom Hardware baby. Don't ask me what unlucky gonk had the job to make this but it's kitted out. The shape is as expected but the length can be retracted and extended at will. When in use the shortest it can go is 6 inches (he will never keep it this short though, that's below him) and the maximum length is 14 inches although ‘yikes’ lets be real, not a lot of people are going to be able to handle that, it's bragging rights and intimidation factor more than anything. His common use of range is 8-10 inch. He can move individual sections, vibrate and even cause minor shocks at will.

Y = Yearning

If no outside factors are taken into account it can take several weeks before he considers a roll in the hay. A lack of hormones means a lack of natural drive. But a busy week of fighting and killing will quickly land him in a private 'meeting'.

Z = ZZZ 

Sleep? you're kidding right. Every few days (or weeks if it's a boring month) he has to have a system scrub and recharge of sorts. He has a private station for this so nobody is going to catch him unaware. Once the deed is done he's over and out, no pillow talk or sweet nothings. If you've managed to really leave an impression he might throw you a contact for seconds. It's run through a security system of course, can't have just anybody being able to contact him.

[mst3kproject]

The Flame Barrier

I’ve got an awful lot of movies from 1958 on my resume, don’t I?  Why is that? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. Apparently it was just a bumper year for cheap, crappy black-and-white films.  This one stars Kathleen Crowley from The Rebel Set and Rodd Redwing from The Mole People, in a movie written by George Worthing Yates, who also penned Earth vs the Spider.  Also featuring a blob from outer space, with motives even less clear than the one in The Space Children.

Over yet another stock-footage rocket launch, one of those deep-voiced 50’s narrators informs us that there’s a layer of Earth’s atmosphere called the Flame Barrier which destroys everything it touches. This particular rocket was no exception, and its crash-landing in the Mexican jungle may be related to the disappearance of explorer Howard Dalman, whose wife Carol has now come looking for him. She seeks out a pair of prospectors, Dave and Matt Hollister, to guide her to his last known location.  As they go deeper into the bush, they find they’re wandering into something unknown… something that can make men burst into flames!

This movie isn’t terrible.  It’s not great, but it’s not irredeemably awful.  It reminds me a lot of The Giant Gila Monster, in that there’s a story going on and it’s not a bad story per se, but it’s one that’s got nothing whatsoever to do with the title and premise that drew us to the film in the first place.  When the supposed main plot pops up again at the end, it makes for a sudden and jarring shift.

The Flame Barrier starts off all right.  We have the inevitable narrator to give us the backstory, and then it gets right on with meeting the characters.  They’re introduced one by one, telling us their personalities and goals: Carol is naïve and spoiled but she’s trying her best, Matt is a drunk fool but he’s got a good heart, and Dave is a gruff, cynical realist who loves his brother but is tired of his bullshit.  None of them are exactly nice people but you can see where they’re coming from, and they each get an arc.  Carol struggles with whether she really loved Howard, whom she barely knew, and the movie allows her to toughen up and learn how to survive in the wilderness. Dave spends much of the movie being a jerk to Carol but eventually realizes he judged her too harshly and apologizes.  Matt gets a chance to be a hero and takes it, believing that he owes it to Dave for never giving up on him.  The writing is frequently unsubtle but the actors are competent, and these little stories work just fine.

The movie that surrounds them, however, is often very sloppy.  The narrator tells us that the space probe from the opening crashed because ‘it unexpectedly lost its gravitational force’.  What?  What is that supposed to even mean?  The narrator also tells us it’s been six months since Howard disappeared, then mere minutes later Carol says it’s been four. There’s a bit where Carol is menaced by an iguana… the creature is never actually in the shot with her, so they couldn’t find anything scarier?  The stock wildlife footage on their trek through the soundstage sets of Central America includes hyenas.  I can hear Crow saying, “boy, are we in Afri… wait a minute…”  And, pet peeve, they describe a snake as poisonous instead of venomous.

This being a jungle movie, obviously there are ‘natives’.  I think most of these are actual Mexicans, although Wikipedia says Rodd Redwing may have been from India (if so, I like to think his entire career in Westerns was based on just walking into casting directors’ offices and announcing he was ‘an Indian’, and letting them draw their own conclusions).  Being as this is a movie from the fifties, the natives are there largely to provide a body count – white people aren’t allowed to die until the climax.  To its credit, The Flame Barrier mostly (though not entirely) avoids the trope where the natives have interpreted the mysterious happenings as supernatural, leading the white characters to scoff at the whole thing.  There is some of this, but Dave clearly knows these people well and respects their culture and their warnings.

Then there’s the love story.  Obviously this is a movie, so Carol’s gotta fall for one or other of these idiots, but neither of the Hollister brothers is a good choice. Matt is sweet to her but he’s also a useless drunk who only has a job because his brother puts up with him.  Dave spends eighty percent of the movie being an asshole and I have no idea what Carol sees in him.  At least the two men never fight over her.  I guess the love affair is important to the plot, because it spurs the party on to finish their search for the missing Howard Dalman despite the odds being stacked against them… but that basically boils down to Carol and Dave needing to be sure she’s a widow before they can bone.

After all this messing around in the jungle, with the run time half over we get to the plot, and the movie changes gears with an almost audible ka-chunk.  Now we’ve got this space blob sitting in a cave (how did it get in there when it’s still attached to the rocket?) doubling in size every two hours, which must be destroyed before it can consume the entire earth!  Suddenly we have a laboratory, because all the scientific equipment Howard brought with him is still in perfect condition despite having been sitting in the jungle for either four or six months.  Suddenly Dave the rugged survivalist is a scientist and mathematician.  It’s like they took the same actors and sets and started trying to make a totally different movie.

Honestly, I think this is more or less what happened. I think the multiplying space blob was the movie somebody originally wanted to make – it starts out as a tiny thing in a test tube, growing bigger and bigger until it consumes the whole building and will destroy the entire city if it isn’t stopped!  That sounds like a pretty fun 50’s sci-fi movie in itself. It also, however, sounds like an expensive 50’s sci-fi movie, needing miniatures destroyed and screaming extras and other stuff The Flame Barrier just didn’t have the money for. Hence the need to spend so much time wandering around in the jungle swapping tragic backstories before the characters are allowed to get to that point.

The unfortunate thing about this is that the movie doesn’t really have time to get into the nature of its alien.  In Spacemaster X-7, the Blood Rust was offscreen much of the time but we still had a good idea of what it was and of its capabilities, and the explanations we were given made a reasonable amount of sense.  In The Flame Barrier, we’ve got this blob that apparently lives in the rarified and super-hot outer atmosphere (the writers seem to have confused Earth’s atmosphere with the Sun’s corona), but can also survive on the ground… and its effects are all over the place. Sometimes when things get too close to it, they’re just electrocuted and disintegrated, as happens to the rocket’s original passenger, a very young chimpanzee.  Sometimes people get horribly burned and then burst into flames and are reduced to skeletons hours or days later, as keeps happening to the natives. And then there’s Howard, who somehow managed to get close enough to be swallowed up by the thing and his corpse is still completely intact inside it.

None of this makes any sense.  If the blob has that protective electrocution barrier that the humans must be so careful to avoid, how did Howard get close enough to be trapped in it?  How did the chimp get out to end up wandering around in the jungle?  What the heck is happening to the natives who get burned and then skeletonized and why doesn’t that ever happen to the chimp or any of the main characters?  And how do they manage to kill by electrocution a creature that uses lethal amounts of electricity without any harm to itself?  ‘It’s an alien – we don’t understand it’ can cover a multitude of sins in movie writing, but the blob’s random effects don’t even feel like they could potentially make sense.

The Flame Barrier reminds me of other MST3K movies, too. Prominent among them are It Conquered the World and The Crawling Hand, both of which ended on the same unintentionally depressing note: they suggest that the dangers of going into space are so great that humans will never be able to overcome them.  It Conquered the World tells us that there are eight more Venusians just waiting for their own turn to invade.  The Crawling Hand says that exposure to outer space causes mutations that will turn astronauts into mindless murderers.  The Flame Barrier posits that not only is space itself deadly, but is also full of deadly creatures, and the only way to avoid them is to stay on the ground.

This has always interested me because movies like this stand alongside things like the tales of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger!, in which humans have an exciting future among the stars. Stories set in space can be about either the exhilaration of discovery or the terror of the unknown, and this dichotomy seems to be as old as science fiction – Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is considered the first work of proper sci-fi, and it encompasses both.  Frankenstein tells us that if we let our fear over-rule our curiosity, we’ll miss out on something potentially wonderful.  Movies like The Flame Barrier, and even modern space monster flicks like Alien, seem to say the opposite, that we shouldn’t meddle with the unknown at all.

This movie was kind of a compromise on my part.  I’ve had a lot on my plate lately and I picked The Flame Barrier as a movie that was kinda stupid but wouldn’t be either a test of my endurance or particularly challenging to write about.  I’m hoping to have something a little juicier for you next time.

[anncanta]

The imagery of BBC ‘Dracula’: mythology, alchemy, literature. Part 2

Part 1 is here.

Mirror

One of the cross-cutting images of the entire work, which underlies the very narrative structure on which it is built, the image of the mirror is one of the most ancient in European culture. Which is not surprising – a reflective surface capable of showing a person himself was probably initially perceived as magical – not by chance, as in the situation with photography, the earliest myths and fears associated with mirrors speak of soul abduction.

In Dracula, the image of the mirror is presented at the same time as a literal object that the protagonist fears, his main phobia, a metaphor for his ability/inability to look at himself, and the resulting all this motive of duality that unfolds the story as a drama of reflections.

Let's start with a literal mirror. I don't know if you noticed, but in the first episode, with the exception of the scene in Jonathan's room in Dracula's castle, there are no mirrors at all. And even that only thing of Harker Dracula instantly breaks. It is interesting how he does it – not as a negative character, grimacing angrily at the sight of a hated object, or an unforgettable queen in various versions of the story about Snow White, destroying a mirror showing her not what she wants. Dracula breaks the mirror instinctively, doing it in one movement as if delaying or trying to think about it could be almost more dangerous than the object itself is. It is possible that this is so. He then tells Jonathan that he cannot provide him with another mirror in return, as he does not keep such things in his house. From that moment on, not once during the two episodes did he look at his reflection, including the scene with Dorabella, where the Count shows a young woman what could have been in her life, reflected in the water, but does not look into it himself.

The third episode looks in huge contrast to the first two. Now Dracula, who woke up in the twenty-first century, looks at himself constantly. In fact, if you peer closely, he does just that throughout the episode. And not only literally, but also metaphorically. Which, in general, is logical: given the events that took place in the castle, and then on Demeter, we can assume that for the first time in many years Dracula plucked up the courage to see himself, to meet with himself and think about what he was.

Judging by what the Count sees in the mirror, the answer is not very inspiring.

It turns out that there is nothing majestic, bright, and attractive either in himself or in his life. His spectacular charming appearance is a mask, an illusion, and an old man with gray hair and sunken eyes looks to him from the window glass, his house is a pompous empty room, trying to replace the unattainable sun with an excess of artificial light, his woman is a silly girl who is not afraid of death because she is unable to appreciate life.

The ruthlessness and brightness of the reflections leave no chance for false interpretations. In this sense, the relationship between Dracula and his new lawyer is especially eloquent. You need to understand that the reflection of Jonathan Harker in modern reality is not Jack Seward, but Renfield. Obsequious, stupid, pitiful, ready to do anything for the sake of influence and power. It is the worst mirror the Count has ever seen, and, as he begins to conjecture, perhaps just the one he deserves.

The reflection in Renfield and in Lucy leads Dracula in the end to what he fled from for so many years.

To the needle and the sun.

Needle

When you talk about images in works of art, you always have to keep in mind that images are inseparable from motives and plots with which they travel through time and that every time you discover a particular object and symbol in a text, you, like a fisherman in an old fairy tale, can bring the whole world to the surface. And it doesn't matter at all whether the image is large or small, is it constantly mentioned in the text or is the central one in a single short episode.

In Dracula, the needle occurs only once, but its appearance can serve as an example of how a single image, arising, ‘gathers’ an archetypal story around itself.

Globally, in Dracula, there are two central archetypal plots: the plot of the beauty and the beast and the plot of the sleeping beauty. I suggest looking at how one of them works at the image level.

I'm talking about the plot of the sleeping beauty. 

Let`s recall the episode in the isolation ward. What does Dracula do before making an incision in his arm and filling a test tube with blood? That's right, he gives Zoe a needle. The same spindle, which in a fairy tale makes a sleeping beauty fall asleep (symbolically, like a caterpillar, plunge into a transformative state, from which it will emerge as a butterfly).

In the film, Dracula plays both the role of a witch taking revenge for the fact that she was not invited to the party, and a prince called to wake up the beauty. This is literally shown in the scene when, in a vision of Zoe, who drank the Count's blood, Agatha and Zoe look into each other's eyes, connected by Dracula and standing on opposite sides of him. Moreover, pay attention – Zoe stands behind the Count's back, symbolizing the past, while Agatha is right in front of him, metaphorically meaning the future.

Well, and if this is not enough for someone, a little later they will show us Zoe, lying in bed, and Agatha, entering the door.

And what comes after her?

Sun 

Author`s note

This part of the article contains thoughts that I unexpectedly discovered a few days ago in a beautiful text The Petruvian Man by @devoursjohnlock. I highly recommend this article to those who are interested in the topic of images and the structural construction of Dracula.

In the first episode, the sun rarely appears, in the second it is hidden almost all the time behind clouds or fog, and in the third it crosses the hero's path several times in a row – first in Bob's house, where Zoe threatens to collapse the roof if Dracula does not surrender, then – in the form of golden light, hugging the building of the Jonathan Harker foundation, where the Count is brought in a box, until it finally bursts into the window of Dracula's own house, categorically and victoriously, putting an end to all the vague games.

We will not talk here about the meaning of the sun as reason, consciousness, openness, new life, clarity, and realization of an integral personality. This is understandable, and we talked about this earlier. Let's look at it as an image that is used in this text a little unusual, but that's why it is no less interesting, creating depth and additional context where you don't expect it.

We are talking about the scene at the very beginning, in the first episode, which at first glance seems to be nothing more than a joke, an attempt by the writers to ‘dilute’ the drama, so to speak. But it's not that simple.

Remember how Dracula leads Jonathan Harker to his room and walks past the portraits of Petruvio and the architect’s wife? Remember what he says to Jonathan?

‘This castle was the Widower`s final work. A monument to his lost love and the sunlight, to which he could never return.’ And then Dracula adds: ‘...he died here in the arms of his wife,’ – in response to Jonathan's remark how this could be possible, as Petruvio was a widower, saying: ‘It must have been a cold embrace.’

Reflecting later on this gloomy joke, Johnny concludes that Petruvio considered his wife his sun: ‘What else is sunlight, but the face of one`s beloved?’, and guesses that behind her portrait is hidden a plan of the castle. And then words follow, which, in combination with what was said earlier, create an image that becomes a kind of symbolic prologue to the entire text and at the same time a brief description of the plot.

Finding the plan, Johnny deciphers it and discovers a way out behind Petruvio's portrait. Then he says: ‘Petruvio’s wife was the sunlight, and he stood guard at the door.’

Does it remind you of anything?

What happens in the last scene in the third episode?

The catharsis of the uniting of the two, which became possible only because both realized and accepted their – as we could see from the very beginning – natural roles in this play. Agatha took the role of the sunlight and the liberating power of love and mind, and Dracula – the role of the door.

And on a figurative level, this was laid down from the first minutes of the film. Spoken in words for those who do not read visual messages. Down to the smallest details, like the architect who died in the arms of his wife, who by that time was already dead. As well as Agatha, who was physically dead for one hundred and twenty-three years by the end of the third episode.

Rather, as in the case of the needle, and in many others, here words only confirm and express directly what is said at the symbolic level, and it is impossible to separate one level from other. Reading them at the same time, moving between them, and looking at them together, you can see the whole story, and even guess what is it about.

But more on that later.

Part 3.

[goreprofonde]

Aaron Rodgers - Climax

“Life is a collective impossibility.”

There were so many languages. Aramaic, Phoenician, Etruscan, Tamil, Moabite, Umbrian. Too many languages. From where did they all come? It was a puzzlement, especially if you believed—and if you were authoring the Pentateuch you no doubt did—that all these speakers were branches of a single family tree. Why would Noah’s descendants, leaving the Ark to replenish the Earth, differ so greatly from one another? You needed an etiology, you did. If you were Greek, you might blame Hermes. If you were Bantu, you might blame a famine-induced madness. But if you were writing the Book of Genesis, you might blame, well, God.

The story of the Tower of Babel from Genesis 11 is short—very short. You’ve probably heard it, or at least something like its broadest outlines. In only nine verses no longer than your average nursery rhyme, the postdiluvian people (speaking but one language) decide in their arrogance to build a tower to reach the heavens; the Lord sees it and is displeased; and so the Lord confuses their language and scatters them about the globe. Short, sweet, and to the point: Pride goeth before the globe-scattering fall.

Or at least that is the traditional interpretation. And it’s not an unreasonable one—what few dots there are seem to connect in a pretty straight line, and old-timey Yahweh was quite prone to smiting, having just exited his “drown them all” Great Flood phase. Like so many ancient stories, it easily calcifies into something abstract and removed from the specifics of the story itself. But actually reading the nine relevant verses is quite a time—especially when read from the perspective of an acolyte of God fashioning an explanation for the world’s diversity of languages. For the Lord did not just punish the people for their hubris; he did so out of fear that their unity of language and of purpose would make them his rivals (“and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do”). And the Lord did not choose just any punishment; he chose exactly the thing that the people most feared (“and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth” / “and from thence did the Lord scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth”). Taken together, it paints an astonishingly bleak picture—humanity, its highest goals easily scuttled by outside forces, overseen by a vengeful, jealous God more interested in chaos and the psychological scars of a self-fulfilling prophecy than in peace or understanding. (And all this from Moses, one of God’s chief troubadours! Imagine the story a naysayer might have told.)

It’s hard not to think of the Tower of Babel in the wake of Climax, Gaspar Noé’s latest boundary-pushing entry in his own foreboding corner of the cinéma du corps/New French Extremity. Noé is not shy about citing his idols and reference points generally, from Godard to Kubrick to Lynch, nor has he been subtle about the influences on Climax—in addition to referencing the Tower of Babel, Shivers, and The Towering Inferno (among others) in interviews, Noé has helpfully laid out a wealth of data points surrounding the monitor on which he displays his dance troupe’s introductory interviews. Among the citations: Argento’s Suspiria; Fassbinder’s Querelle; Żuławski’s Possession; Pasolini’s Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom; and Buñuel’s Un Chien Andalou, not to mention various books like Taxi Driver and How to Succeed at Suicide. The ways in which these influences play out are sometimes obvious (e.g., Selva’s (Sofia Boutella) agonized, writhing convulsion in the hallway explicitly recalls Isabelle Adjani’s subway paroxysm in Possession), sometimes less so (e.g., Oscar Wilde’s De Profundis, which—according to Noé, the little stinker—appears because “I like the title and I like the book...because it’s so cruel”). There is no Holy Bible propped up against Noé’s mid-1990s tube TV, but the idea of a vengeful and jealous overseer disrupting an attempt at something greater is central to Climax. As he did in Irréversible, Noé realizes that hell, unbearable as it can be, is only made more hellish by the possibility of heaven.

Climax begins (like Irréversible) with the ending. Lou (Souheila Yacoub), covered in blood, is seen from overhead stumbling through the snow before collapsing. Something terrible has obviously happened to her (this is Noé, after all), but unlike Irréversible, which unfurls a fully backward chronology, this prologue is only a brief flash-forward. After the credits play, Climax introduces us to its large cast via the aforementioned interviews, quickly sketching its players’ backgrounds, interests, and fears as the dancers—applying to be part of some sort of international touring group—discuss sex and drugs and other points of interest to the bohemian twentysomething circa 1996. From there, Climax moves to an abandoned school on the outskirts of Paris where the group is rehearsing, and it is at this point that Noé provides his greatest shock of all: joy. As the dancers krump and vogue and contort in what can only be called harmonious dissonance, Noé’s unbroken take evokes the bygone MGM musical of Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly, celebrating the amazing things a body in motion can do not by simulating that motion through quick-hitting edits but through the camera’s unblinking gaze.

Of course, Climax’s version of the cinematic dance number has a decidedly modern bent not incidental to its overarching themes. The participants in manager Emmanuelle’s (Claude Gajan Maull) group are not performing in the classical Astaire-and-Rogers style, nor do they look like the cast of Singin’ in the Rain. Instead, they are diverse in almost every way—nationally, ethnically, sexually, socioeconomically. What they have in common—in addition to youth—is an affinity for creative movement and a desire/belief (perhaps born of naïveté) that through their collective efforts they can make the world a better place. Climax early on declares that it is a French film and proud of it and a large sequined French flag hangs behind the dancers, framing their efforts. For a time, it seems as though these young performers, accepting of all comers and overflowing with joie de vivre, might represent a new, aspirational future for France, free of the petty jealousies and insecurities and bigotries that define (and mar) life as we know it.

But Noé is not one for uplift, and as the prophetic prologue cautions, this jubilant beginning must come to an end. After their astonishing first dance—several of the most infectious minutes one is likely to see onscreen—the performers become revelers, celebrating their upcoming tour with food and merriment and sangria. That sangria happens to be laced with LSD—something neither the dancers nor we yet know, though some pointed shots of the punch bowl and the too-frequent mentions of its contents suggest trouble—and will soon cause this utopian mini-society to erupt into death and madness. But the eruption is that of a festering boil. Cleverly, Noé follows the initial dance with a series of conversations among the participants, mostly broken off in pairs. While further fleshing out their characters and deepening certain audience connections (and introducing Tito (Vince Galliot Cumant), Emmanuelle’s young son who, being a child in a Noé film, cannot possibly meet a good end), these interactions also reveal the lie behind the seeming idyll we have just witnessed. Sexual gamesmanship, misogyny, mutual distrust, power dynamics, a general unease—even before the drugged wine has taken hold, no amount of common bond or feel-good sentiments can fully inoculate against the crassness and misanthropy of the human condition. Vive la France—unless that French flag plays less than wholesomely to some of the carousers whose skin color may have left them disadvantaged under its auspices. God is with us—unless God, wary of his waning primacy and unwilling to go down without a fight, has been against us all along.

From there, Noé gifts us one additional extended dance sequence—this time shot from above, like a devilish cousin to Busby Berkeley’s showstoppers—but the additional knowledge we have gained makes the number play very differently than its predecessor. It is still exuberant, still exciting, still full of technical and physical marvels, but there is a sense of disquiet coursing through it, of tenuous allegiances and bids for attention. The playful back-and-forth of the first dance feels slightly more strained; the seemingly effortless flow of before is supplemented with an element of jockeying and competition. All these workers building a tower, but unsure about one another’s methods or their mutual destination.

Being a Noé film, it is no surprise that from there Climax descends into recriminations and mutilation, child endangerment and incest, and ultimately into a crimson-lit nightmare resulting in death. Noé’s superb camerawork—always a hallmark—not only complements the dancing beautifully (one truly wishes that he, along with Edgar Wright, would make an out-and-out musical, though for Noé that would almost certainly have to be Sweeney Todd), it also brings to life the increasingly fragile (and ultimately disintegrated) mental states of his crew of revelers. While Selva is probably the closest thing Climax has to a protagonist as the camera follows her back and forth from the common space to the dorm rooms the group has been occupying, no one seems fully safe/sane—not Selva, as she comes undone in front of some nature-backdrop wallpaper; not Lou or Omar (Adrien Sissoko), who abstain from the sangria for personal reasons that end up visiting upon them violence (whether Western culture dislikes a Muslim or a sexually active woman more is a question Climax does not definitively resolve); not even Daddy (Kiddy Smile), as he good-naturedly DJs the proceedings. That Climax employs so much improvisation is nothing short of miraculous, given how intricately some of Noé’s long takes appear to be choreographed. But beyond mere showmanship (of his own or his performers), these extended sequences give Climax the disorienting effect of feeling both dreamlike (or, perhaps more accurately, nightmarish) and realistic. Real life does not employ the careful and selective cutting of a movie, unfolding as its own long take, yet the memories thereof are fragmented in a subconscious act of self-editing, making Noé’s aesthetic appropriately both distancing and suffocating.

This visual evocation of an unyielding descent into hell is complemented perfectly by Noé and Ken Yasumoto’s sound design. The music that previously served as an enthusiastic soundscape turns menacing and relentless, with the percussive beats and throbbing bass driving the drug-addled action perpetually forward, stymieing any possible reflective moment. Yet that merciless music is preferable to the screams and groans it sometimes drowns out—cries that are themselves preferable, in the case of Tito, to a sudden silence that is deafening in its horrific implications. Even the comparatively hospitable environs of the sleeping quarters see Dom (Mounia Nassangar) attacking Lou and Taylor (Taylor Kastle) taking advantage of his sister, Gazelle (Giselle Palmer). As the sangria brings out the group’s (somewhat) latent paranoia and aggression and worst impulses, a downward spiral is inevitable; once gravity takes hold, escape velocity becomes nearly impossible to achieve.

Unlike Irréversible, Noé does not end Climax on a tragic but perversely bittersweet note; instead, he ends it with a possible explanation for the madness that disquietingly suggests that the madness was unavoidable. The perpetrator’s outsider status implies the doomed nature of group activity. The lies told in the instigator’s interview speak to the inefficacy of preparatory efforts. Most upsettingly, the culprit’s name, drawn from Greek mythology and literally meaning “breath of life,” points back to God and the Tower of Babel. The people banded together in an attempt to do something great, something just within reach. But God wouldn’t have it. So he scrambled the synapses a bit—a different language here, a chemically disrupted neuro-receptor there—and voilà, his supremacy was re-established. But to what end? “Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair,” said a king of kings, until nothing beside remained. Pride goeth before the fall; when the proud one is divine, the fall leads all the way to hell.

[mybeloved73]

My name is Chelsea and I’m a ITU Nurse.

I’m also a newly qualified nurse - I literally left Uni last year and began my job in the September.

My background - I didn’t always want to be a nurse. I wasn’t cut out for that sort of compassion or care. I dreamt of being a PT, an athlete, anything that was sports driven.

Until my boyfriend had a bike accident, that then left him in ITU. He later succumb to his injuries and passed away. The nurses looking after him, changed my life. Shining light kind of moment - I want to be just like them kind of thing.

Granted it took me 4 years to build up the courage, battling my PTSD, severe depression and anxiety to even apply to uni. But I did it - and Sept 2019 I got my Pin as a registered nurse.

Now, if you 1) think covid19 was made up, a conspiracy or the numbers have been made up as a scare tactic or 2) you actually believe wearing a face covering will cause ‘respiratory arrests’ ‘acidosis’ blah... stop reading. Because this isn’t for you. Or even 3) you have the view of ‘its their job’ - back away from your screen.

You’ve seen in the news about the public sector pay rise? That nurses aren’t included, nor the junior doctors, physio’s etc (I use etc as there are so many people being forgotten in all this and it is used lovingly and not to cause offence)? Honestly, Im so glad that others are being recognised for their input and help during this - the teachers who put in extra work for children of key workers, who sacrificed their home life to entertain little ones every day and try give them the education they need and deserve, to the police, military - anyone receiving this recognition. Honestly you deserve it. And the NHS will not shadow that or take it away from you.

We agree’d to a 3 year pay deal, that had the options of being reconsidered earlier than the final date if there was a change in circumstances. Covid19 should really be considered as a change in circumstances. I mean being told that you’re already ‘unskilled’ and watching people clap to STOP pay rises... was hard enough. But to have everyone else recognised for their vital contributions and lay something that was agreed in 2018 - is inexcusable.

You realise that most nurses didn’t get to see your claps on a Thursday? That’s handover time. And due to covid19 if their handover time was earlier - they were usually late because of how busy it was and still missed it.

I saw one. Because it so happened I had come off of nights the night prior.

So! My life during covid19 starts off with the busiest winter that my hospital has seen in ITU. We have 10 beds. We are funded for 7/8? We had to open an escalation centre that we stole from our day surgery unit to give us a further 3 beds.

Which in itself is hard - looking after seriously sick patients away from your actual designated and designed ward and without the continuous presence of doctors.

That wasn’t enough.

We had to then stole half of the recovery room, which usually houses patients post surgery whilst they wake up.

Going up to 16 patients. Remember - at this point. I’m THREE MONTHS qualified.

Learning is hard, steep, and in-depth. You’re suppose to be trained over the course of a year as a newly qualified, with study days and help from mentors etc. I couldn’t attend some of those days because we didn’t have the staff to look after the most patients our ITU had ever seen.

Now I know ITU is hard. I picked it.

I knew what it entailed, well partly.

I have to maintain my patients artificial airway. They either have a tube in their mouth or in their throat.

They’re then connected to a ventilator.

Every single setting on that machine, every button - changes something drastically.

From the fio2, PEEP, PS, PC, TV, MVE, PEAK, RR, PF ratio, ... one button, one alteration or mistake... literally can stop this person breathing. Cause respiratory distress, arrest.. trauma? anything.

Did you know I have to move that tube in their mouth every hour to stop pressure sores developing in their mouth? And I still have to brush their teeth and give oral care?

I have to suction down their throat and clear their lungs? Or suction their actual mouth for extra secretions?

And record all this data hourly.

To ensure that this patient is comfortable with this tube... I have to medicate this patient.

I have to keep them in an artificial coma.

Titrating the drugs to their optimum levels.

Some are measured mg/hr, mcg/hr, mcg/kg/min..

some have limits on maximum dose per hour you can use.

Some have really severe side effects.

Such as noradrenaline. Which can literally cause your fingers and toes to become necrotic.

I have to monitor someone’s glucose - whether you’re diabetic or not, and correct it if needed with insulin or dextrose.

I have to give diuretics but not allow your body to become too negative, I have to give fluid challenges to ensure you’re not vascular depleted.

I can help your kidneys with the use of a dialysis machine. Literally filter your blood of toxins your body can no longer remove without help of a machine. This requires constant blood tests to ensure that you aren’t collecting dangerous toxins or you need additional support from the machine.

I can use a machine to check your cardiac output and interpret it to make sure that you have enough fluid vs a drug that’ll help squeeze your heart instead.

I can read an ECG and tell if you need additional supplements such as potassium. Do further tests for magnesium, phosphates etc. And deliver those.

I can feed you through a tube down your nose, and ensure you absorb it. But it’s okay I can give you medication to also help that - these require me to do daily ECGs though, and interpret the data of your QTC to make sure it’s not affecting your heart.

Now. If that’s not enough. Covid happens.

Now remember our record was 16 patients?

Try doubling that.

We worked in our ITU,

Escalation centre

Recovery - we took the whole thing.

Next - we took over operating theatres.

3 patients in theatre 6

3 in 5

3 in 4

2 in 3

We stole theatre staff, recovery nurses, ODPS, ward nurses, retired nurses, health visitor nurses, anyone we could relocate to help us.

March - I’m 6 months qualified.

I’m now the most qualified ITU nurse in my theatre.

I have people who have never looked after a ventilated patients before asking me for help. Please don’t silence my alarm if you don’t know why it’s alarming. I know it’s loud and annoying but it’s telling me everything I need to know with enough time before I need to panic.

Now - covid patients weren’t just sick. Weren’t just needing help to breathe. These patients were all sorts of ‘new’. Nothing made sense!

These patients COULDNT be ventilated. We needed to paralyse them to literally be able to take over their breathing properly! No amount of sedation worked! Their lungs were fibrous and acting like elastic under tension.

Side note - if your patient wasn’t sedated enough compared to paralysis - they could be silently awake, but completely paralysed. Knowing everything happening to them. But unable to do anything - not even breathe. Every time you start rocuronium you need to remember that. If you’re withdrawing treatment - TURN THE ROC OFF FIRST. And wait before you do anything else.

Back to it. They were so unstable that you try roll them, which we usually do 4 hourly to prevent pressure sores - they desaturated to numbers so low that you would usually see some hypoxia brain injury after.

We couldn’t roll these patients without risking that. So you know what. You don’t roll.

So we couldn’t protect their skin integrity. You just watch them, and feel guilty.

Nursing school 101 - pressure sores are PREVENTABLE. Roll your patient. Skin care and hygiene is your best friend.

Now covid went against everything a nurse knows and holds dear.

Our ITU never had pressure sores. Until covid. Some had grade 4’s.

Maggot therapy.

Vacuum dressings.

These patients were also clotting, and sending off clots to their kidneys, liver, heart, brain. Covid made your blood super sticky!!!!

People were having strokes whilst being sedated, going from fit to multi organ failure in days. I’m trying to save these people, knowing they could possibly wake up with complete left side paralysis? Never talk again? Never be them again?

Now you know about these past medical histories etc?

You realise what that is?

that it could be Type 2 diabetes?

Hypertension?

That was it for some.

None of this thinking they were super sick, with lists longer than my arm, and that’s why they didn’t make it. No.

Literally things that happen with age. Poor diet? That 120/80 you’re happy you got - THATS PREHYPERTENSION.

I was probably hypertensive the entire time with anxiety.

Did you know We had to use the old anaesthetic ventilators. None of us had used those before. Those big bellows you see in films going up and down rhythmically. Those.

That was scary.

I’m use to a single touch screen button (hello modern technology) to deliver 100% o2 if my patient needs it. This has a switch to a bag, a button, dials to titrate o2 with normal air. And if I didn’t monitor the crystals in the bottom my patient would retain their own co2 and I wouldn’t know why.

New found love for anaesthetists and ODPS - these machines are NOT designed for prolonged use. But they helped us keep our patients alive. By literally guiding us and helping us look after the machines so we could do our job.

Now. All of this is made worse by PPE.

I’m hot.

It’s hot.

And intense and I’m working hard because tonight, I have 3 ventilated patients. By myself.

I have a gown on.

2 sets of gloves

An apron

An FFP3 mask

A hat

A visor

And no air con.

But I’ve got this. I can’t do my hourly checks because I am one person.

My super sick patients now have 2 hourly because it is physically impossible.

Where are the other staff?

Sick.

You’re watching these people struggle to breathe on machines and then being told your close friends at work, your mentors, your seniors are spiking temperatures. Some being admitted to hospital. Some not being able to come back to work for weeks.

Some ending up on your ventilators. It’s okay. I’ve got this.

I’m an ITU nurse right?

CPR wearing that get up. Is TOUGH. 27mins. I cried that day.

We lost 3 patients in 12 hours.

I held the hand of so many people as I turned off their ventilators because their families couldn’t be with them and no one should die alone. No one. I tried my best.. and then once my day had finished, I had to come home to my dad who is immunosuppressed. Who doesn’t understand boundaries. “Kevin stay in the other part of the house!”

*knocks on bedroom door with dinner*.

Proning. What an experience that is. And doing it Daily. The complications of that were scary before you even approach the patient.

So I’m going to flip my patient - who has a tube down their mouth to help breath, who is on medication for sedation, paralysis, to keep their blood pressure up.. from laying on their back - to laying on their front.

Seems easy?

Well it’s not. And requires like 8 people.

8 people.

We don’t have enough people as it is. So we now develop a proning team made up of everyone.

There are consultants, there are experts in their fields, there are physios and then I don’t know who else.

Honestly I couldn’t thank these people enough. More people would have died if we didn’t have a proning team. But now, people spent 23 hours laying on their front. Pressure sores on their faces. Potential of going blind? New complications of not being able to breathe we never expected.

We are finally back into one unit now. I’m still less than a year qualified. And I’m still running on adrenaline expecting this second wave. Those still reading, I know you’re thinking that she picked this job.

She knew what it meant.

And you’re right! Give me those complex drug calculations and ventilators. Oh and the scrubs!

But a pandemic? I didn’t pick that. The world didn’t pick that.

Honestly thank you, to the ward nurses - your lives got flipped upside down.

The physios who became best friends.

Consultants who literally got down and dirty with us.

To the domestics who cleaned furiously for us.

OT’s To literally orientate our patients when they’re waking up like 70 days later.

Every

Single

Person

Who

Helped.

Oh communication team made up of medical students, who updated the families because... I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave my patient. Not like this!

Matron who literally had to facilitate all this, with people who knew nothing about ITU. Being in ITU. Looking after ITU patients. Whilst her own ITU staff were sick, in hospital, or newly qualified, or working to the point they broke.

To the countless companies sending food, goodies, moral support !! Oh my god that was incredible to come to after not having a break for 6+ hours ... mmm... food!!

Did you know they’re offering support for the nurses to stop PTSD, or anxiety or just to help up digest what we saw? Psychological support for just doing your job?

But it’s okay.

We got a deal in 2018 for the pay.

We got clapped thursdays.

We all know that’s not enough, but we will still turn up for work.

We can’t leave our patients.

We can’t strike.

They’ll always mean more to us than pay. And the government knows that. Abuses that.

540 NHS staff lost their life doing ‘just their job’ - today the NHS staff walked through London protesting, to be heard. To be listened to. To be acknowledged. To be paid fair.

Sign the petition for us. Because we aren’t just here for covid. We’re here for life.

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/316307

And just put your mask on - please - for that hour you go shopping.

I’ve been wearing mine since March 6th. 13+ hour days. Developed a nice grade one on my nose, my friends faces bleeding from using a rubber respirator....

And We’ll be like this for the foreseeable future.

Now that we have the stocks to do so anyways.

Oh and I’m pissed my graduation was cancelled! All that and I don’t get to wear the hat and gown. Bastard virus. (I understand there was more lost but humour me).

Signed, your registered ITU nurse. We will always continue to monitor.

[eyndr-stories]

To Be Human (FNAF SB fanfic) C5 - Rat's Out Of The Box

In Summary:

In a distant future where humans no longer roam the Earth and the sentient robots they left behind are left with little to no clues as to the lost history of their inherited world, Sun and Moon take up the title of scientists and endeavor to create their own human in their lab (that's where you come in!) in order to shed light on the mystery that is the lost history of the human race. Shenanigans and existential dread ensue as you, a funky little lab creature given sentience, attempt to puzzle out what it really means to be human.

Things To Know (always read responsibly!):

Reader insert! Y/N is not used and gender is not specified, though later in the fic the reader receives a name (also, this reader does not have any boobas lol which I only mention because reader doesn't have a shirt when they first Emerge From The Science Tube Thing and I don't mean to curse / bless yall with the mental image of reader just runnin around titties out lmao)

hurt / comfort :^)

Non-specified relationships between reader and Sun & Moon, this can be read either as pals or more, totally up to your interpretation

enemies (sorta??) to friends (to perhaps more, up to u lol)

Sun & Moon are referred to with gender neutral pronouns

The reader and other characters are often in mortal peril! This world is full of Funky Creatures (other than you) and some of them attack and hurt several characters, including the reader character

On that note there is some blood and minor gore

Occasional swearing

Reader is at times kidnapped / brough to / kept in places against their will

Thoughts and ponderings of sentience and whether or not your thoughts and feelings are your own

Sun & Moon treat the reader as if they are not sentient / intelligent for the first few chapters

That's all I can think of, as always if you want me to add something please let me know!

Start reading here: Chapter 1

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

C5 - Rat's Out Of The Box

     Sun started to ramble. "How?? I mean… You said yourself, it was awoken prematurely, it's physically underdeveloped, it can't really talk, by all accounts it shouldn't even be alive! I mean, what are you saying?? That it's conscious and sentient and has been all along??"

     "I don't know," Moon said. They rose to their feet and started pacing. "Maybe not sentient, but perhaps conscious. Perhaps far more intellectually developed than we assumed. Maybe it understands us on a basic level, maybe even feels things, but… even our final project was never meant to achieve legitimate sentience. Imitate it, sure, but… Sun, we made this thing in a lab. It's a construct. There's no way… there's simply no way it's really alive in that sense."

     Sun thought for a moment. "Where is the line?"

     "What do you mean?"

     "The line between imitation and true sentience? At what point is the difference even important?"

     "I think we're getting ahead of ourselves," Moon said. "Lets first be sure about this." Moon turned back to you.

     You'd been staring at the two of them, head reeling. That couldn't be true, what Moon was saying. You were alive, you knew it, you could feel it. But… what if you were just feeling what you were supposed to feel? What if your thoughts weren't even your own, but a construct given to you by someone else. You'd been created in a lab. Built to imitate sentience but not achieve it. How would you know? How could you even know if your feelings were really yours?

     "If you can understand me… tap the glass twice," Moon stated.

     You tentatively reached out with a hand. Tap tap.

     "Oh my goodness," Sun whispered.

     "Okay. Okay." Moon looked away, looking somewhat overwhelmed.

     "You could understand us all along?!" Sun asked. "Tap once for yes and twice for no."

     You tapped once.

     Sun looked shocked. They took a moment, putting their hand over their mouth.

     "You have… to your understanding, thoughts. Feelings. Correct?" Moon asked.

     Tap.

     "Did you attack us out of malice?" Moon questioned.

     You were quick to tap twice. You spoke again, repeating that word. "Scared."

     "I see." Moon nodded.

     "Why were you scared?" Sun asked.

     You frowned, searching for a single word you could try to speak to sum up the answer.

     "Sorry. Was it because of something Moon or I did?" Sun asked instead.

     You hesitated. Tap.

     Moon and Sun shared a look.

     "Was it a specific action one of us took that sent you into a panic?" Moon asked.

     Tap tap.

     "Was it something we said?"

     Tap.

     "Do you recall what we were discussing?" Moon asked Sun.

     "Something about resources we'd need to acquire to make another human," Sun answered. They looked at you, still confused.

     You spoke up. It was a difficult word, but you managed. "Prototype." You pat your chest.

     Sun and Moon both looked at you curiously, not quite getting it.

     Your throat felt sore. You gave it another shot regardless. "Scared… future."

     "You were scared of the future?" Moon asked.

     Tap.

     "Prototype…" Sun hummed. "We've called you that a few times. Were you… oh. Were you scared because you thought we'd get rid of you once we'd made another human? Since we thought you were a prototype?"

     You looked down. Tap.

     "Oh," Sun looked upset. "We would never do that! Even just because you'd be far too valuable from a research standpoint to just get rid of. Especially now, we will not kill you or harm you."

     You looked up at Sun, wondering if you could trust their word. You didn't particularly feel like Sun was lying to you. You looked at Moon.

     "Sun is correct. We will not harm you," Moon assured.

     You really had no idea if you could trust these two or not. They hadn't exactly been treating you terrifically so far.

     You decided to see if they'd at least free you from your tube prison. "Stuck," you said, patting the glass.

     Sun and Moon looked at each other.

     "Are you going to attack us if we let you out?" Sun asked.

     You tapped the glass twice.

     Moon narrowed their eyes at you. "How can we trust you?"

     Huh. You'd just been thinking that. You huffed and thought for a moment. You looked at the rat, who'd long since taken and eaten the last berry from you and now sat contentedly in your lap, grooming itself.

     You didn't have any ideas. You looked back up at Sun and Moon. "Please?"

     Moon sighed. They rubbed their face, then looked at Sun, who nodded. Moon sighed again. "…Fine."

     Sun and Moon stepped back, putting plenty of distance between you and them before lifting the tube. You lifted the rat, cradling it in a hand, and stood. You looked down at the measuring tool you still held in your other hand. You looked up at Sun and Moon, who were watching you intently.

     Well. They had let you out of the tube. You reasoned building trust went both ways. You hesitated, then tossed the tool aside. It clattered across the floor and rolled under a table. You stared at Sun and Moon. Neither of them moved to attack you, which was good.

     "Will you try to… leave the lab?" Sun asked.

     You paused. You were hesitant to leave now. There were questions you wanted answered, and you didn't think you could find the answers out in the forest. The only ones who could give you those answers were Sun and Moon. Still, you didn't want to be trapped here. Would they still try and stop you from leaving if you tried?

     "We won't stop you," Moon said, as if reading your thoughts. "But perhaps we could convince you to stay?"

     You tilted your head inquisitively. The rat clambered up your arm and onto your shoulder, sniffing around curiously.

     "For one, the world outside is incredibly dangerous, as you've witnessed firsthand. Secondly… if it means anything to you, you're something of a scientific marvel. If we could study you, we'd gain incredible information, answers to questions that would benefit you as well as us," Moon said.

     "We won't trap you or anything. We're… uncertain of your… sentience. But I think both Moon and I would feel uncomfortable with continuing to treat you as we have. So… will you stay?" Sun asked again.

     You reached over to the wall and lifted a finger to the smooth surface.

     Tap.

     Sun and Moon both seemed relieved. You really hoped you were making the right decision. If not… well, you'd be testing their statement and finding out if they were being truthful about letting you leave.

     You hoped it didn't come to that.

     You managed to relate to Sun and Moon about a few of your needs and discomforts. Thirsty, hungry, cold. They promised to do their best to help you out. Food and water could be gathered from the forest, but clothes were a different matter. Sun gave you the shirt they were wearing under their lab coat for now. It was pretty big on you, but it was comfortable. For more clothes, they'd have to go back into the city. Sun and Moon had been planning a covert trip back to the city regardless, since Moon was in need of repairs.

     At your confusion about this city, Sun and Moon explained that the city was a half day's walk away. Their previous lab had been closer to the city, right on the edge between it and the forest. The city was, as Sun and Moon explained, full of other metal beings like them, although Sun and Moon said that very few bots looked like them. They’d been intentionally crafted to share the likeliness of human beings, a rare but not entirely foreign design choice among the city’s residents. The city was where Sun and Moon had resided for many years, making connections, building their reputation as scientists, gathering materials and resources, performing preliminary research and, finally, getting their massive project underway.

     Upon further prompting, Sun and Moon explained more about their project.

     "There are many questions to be uncovered about the history of this world. Our past is shrouded in such mystery, and there are very few clues to speculate on," Sun said.

     "We believe some of the answers lie with those who came before us. Our ancestors, if you will. The beings who created us. Humans, who built the first of us, who would go on to build others, and so on. Not long after the first of us were created, humans disappeared altogether, going extinct rather quickly, in such a fashion that left very little of who they were behind. Buildings remained, mostly. Some material. A rare few records, and a strangely small amount of physical remains," Moon explained.

     "By creating a human, we hoped to learn how they lived, how they interacted with the world, how they might have left it," Sun said.

     "Not many believed it was feasible. Some didn't even see the point in trying to understand the past." Moon paused, looking distraught. "But understanding the past is crucial to building our future. What if whatever took out all the humans comes for us next? Would we not benefit from better understanding our world through those who lived in it before us regardless? Also… It is… troubling, that most don't quite grasp the incredible loss of it all. An entire race, their history, their creations and their lives, all gone. Its inconceivable. We should try to mitigate that loss as we can, ease the weight of it."

     Sun nodded solemnly. "Moon and I, we have a duty to this world we live in, to our past, to our future. We’ve decided we will do what it takes to succeed in this regard, despite the hardships. Do you understand?"

     You did. It was a hell of a lot to take in, but you understood. You felt strange about all this. You were human yourself, but not quite. You were an imitation, an echo of what was. You were created to mitigate the loss of the human race, your race, a race that was apparently now extinct save for you, but were you even human yourself? Did you… count? Sentient or not, you did not come from other humans. You were constructed by beings who had never actually met a human being before. Maybe you were physically made of the same stuff, but was that enough? What were the qualifications of being a real human?

     You didn't have the answers. All you had was a headache.

     You couldn’t voice your questions, and you were frankly getting more upset the more you thought about your supposed sentence and everything that entailed.

     Your rat friend, blissfully unaware of these brain numbing concepts and questions, climbed up on top of your head and made itself comfy in your short, messy hair. You didn’t mind this, and were careful not to tilt your head too drastically and dislodge your little friend.

     "We should let this little fellow go back outside where it belongs," Sun remarked.

     "Agreed," Moon said. They retrieved the box from the ground and approached you.

     You backed up and hissed, scowling at the box. Moon froze instantly, and Sun stiffened.

     "Trapped," you said. "No."

     "…Okay." Moon slowly set the box down. "Alright. No more trapping."

     You relaxed.

     "Why don't I escort you outside, then? That way you can see to the rodent's safe release yourself," Sun offered.

     "Sun, are you sure…?" Moon started. After Sun gave them a look, Moon sighed. "Fine."

     Sun stepped into the airlock with you and your little rat friend. The floor lifted the three of you back up to surface level, and then you were back outside again.

     The fresh air was lovely. It looked to be early morning, there was dew on the grass and the light was soft and dim. It was too bright to see any stars, but not bright enough to see too far into the trees. You waded with Sun through the tall grass, your legs soaked by the time you reached the base of a wide tree.

     You gently plucked the rat from atop your head and crouched down, setting it gently on the ground. The rat sniffed your hand and studied you for a moment, then happily scurried off into the brush. You smiled and watched it go until you couldn't see it anymore.

     "Hey…"

     You looked up at Sun. Sun wasn't looking directly at you, staring instead at where the rat had vanished. They were shuffling their feet and picking at the ends of their sleeves. You stood and eyed them patiently until they continued.

     "I owe you an apology. We really haven't been treating you very well, have we?" Sun looked guilty. "I'm so sorry. For speaking down to you, treating you with very little respect, for everything."

     Sun looked genuinely upset and remorseful. You studied them for a brief moment before coming to a decision. You put a hand on their arm. "Forgiven."

     Sun smiled. "Thank you. Lets go back in, shall we?"

     Sun turned to go, but you held onto their arm, not budging from your spot. Sun stopped and looked at you curiously.

     You released Sun's arm and put a hand to your chest. "Sorry."

     "Sorry?"

     You looked down, trying not to get frustrated with yourself because there seemed to constantly be so much you wanted to say but you just couldn't.

     You gave it your best shot. "Scared you. Tried. Hurt you. Sorry."

     Sun smiled warmly and put a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Forgiven," they said.

     You smiled.

     You and Sun were halfway back through the clearing when a horrible creeping shiver worked its way up your back. You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. You got this feeling, this fear in the back of your mind, that someone was watching you. Or perhaps, something.

     "What is it? Did you have something else to say?" Sun asked, turning back to where you stood stock still.

     You put a hand over your mouth, tapping twice. Then you turned and stared into the trees, willing your eyes to see through the shadows.

     Your senses were going wild, picking up every little thing happening around you. You had this sudden awareness of your surroundings that you hadn't had before. A far-too-quiet hush had fallen over the trees. That fear was back, pressing at the edges of your mind.

     You saw it suddenly, appearing from the shadows as if it simply willed you to see it. You couldn't make out many details but the shape of it was huge, bigger than Sun. You could see a flat head, large claws, a pointed tail. It was low to the ground, as if ready to pounce at any moment.

     You weren't sure what it was waiting for. It was just staring at you. You wished you still had that metal tool.

     Sun shrieked. You jumped and spun to see that while the first creature in the trees had held your attention, a second one had been approaching from the side. It had leapt on top of Sun, and was currently trying to claw them apart.

     Without thinking, you let loose a guttural cry and charged the creature. You slammed into it at full speed, and you and the creature went toppling over each other. You ended up on its back, where you very much wanted to stay, because it couldn't reach you there. You clung there like a burr, fingers gripping handfuls of dirty fur tightly. The creature made a horrible distressed noise that grated your ears. It bucked and shook wildly, trying to get you off.

     You managed to catch sight of Sun. It looked like they'd started towards you, but the first creature was now stalking around Sun while the two tensely stared each other down.

     In a brief moment of luck you started to slip, just as the tail of the creature stabbed down towards you, narrowly missing your head and instead stabbing into the creature's back. The creature roared and flailed, then dropped into a roll. The full weight of it crushed all the air from your lungs, and you lost your grip.

     The creature swung its head around and instinctually you lifted your arms to shield your head. It snapped its jaws around your left arm and you screamed.

     The creature looked ready to jerk its head and rip your arm off, but before it could, a long metal tool cracked down over its head. The creature wailed and lurched backwards, releasing your arm.

     Moon stepped around you, rearing back for another swing, wielding the measuring tool you'd had earlier. You looked back to see Sun standing a few paces away, eying the first creature, who was quickly limping back into the trees. The second creature quickly followed suit. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position with your good arm, eyes on the trees to make sure the creatures stayed gone.

     "Moon!" Sun cried, pulling Moon into a tight shaky hug. "You appeared right when we needed you!! How did you know we were in trouble?!"

     Moon eyed the trees a moment longer before relaxing. "I… You two were taking too long, so I came to check on you."

     You stared at the measuring tool. Moon had brought it with them to 'check on you'. You wanted to be upset, but you just felt… guilty.

     "Well I'm glad you- oH MY GOODNESS," Sun exclaimed, getting a good look at you.

     Moon looked away from the trees to follow Sun's gaze. They gasped when they saw you.

     You glanced down at your arm and- oh. Wow, there sure was a lot of red liquid coming out of you from where that creature had bitten you.

     Blood.

     Hm. That probably wasn't good. As far as you knew, that stuff was supposed to be inside of you, not outside. Your heart was pounding and you still felt like you were in some kind of frenzy. You were feeling really dizzy, too dizzy to get up.

     Sun was rambling and shaking. They were crouched in the grass next to you, hands hovering around as if unsure of what to do but needing to do something. The triangles around their head were so mesmerizing. They left ghostly trails of faintly glowing light with every little movement. You couldn't look away. That is, until you blacked out.