#cell balancing solution

[semcoinfratechworld]

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[mingapace]

𝕹𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖞 𝕯𝖔𝖌

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴅᴏᴍᴇꜱᴛɪᴄ!ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ!ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ x ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴘᴏʀɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰʀᴇᴀᴋʏ-ɴᴇᴇᴅʏ-ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ-ᴘᴀᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴜʙ ʀᴇᴍᴍɪᴄᴋ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴅᴏᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ᴇʀᴀ, ᴏʀᴀʟ (ꜰ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ, ᴍᴏᴀɴɪɴɢ, ᴡʜɪɴɪɴɢ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱɪɴɢ, ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ, ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ(ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ?), ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ꜱᴇx, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ. [Also, English is not my first language]

ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ: 6K

It's been a shitty day. There's no other way to say it.

You started with a flat tire, then the usual blackout at the store forced you to manually enter every receipt, with your boss breathing down your neck at every minor mistake. The boiler gave up the exact moment you walked home and now… now it’s raining.

But not the slow, lazy kind of rain that makes you want to curl up on the couch with a book and a cup of tea. No, it’s raining like the sky is serving a sentence.

The wind howls like a dying animal, crushed under the weight of the storm, shaking the hedges and trees with force—something you find strangely hypnotic. The rain lashes fiercely against the kitchen window as you stare through them.

At least the house is quiet. You made yourself canned soup—the dinner of the desperate—and swallowed it standing up, leaning against the counter, without even turning on the TV.

Your cat weaves between your ankles, rubbing itself, searching for food to satisfy its greed.

You bend over and scratch behind its ear while pouring the contents of the wet food into the small ceramic bowl on the floor.

You were about to stand up and grab some dry food when a dull thud breaks the roar of the rain. Then another thump follows. The metallic clang of trash bins tipping over.

You freeze. It’s not the first time this has happened—there are raccoons and stray animals around, although lately they've been rare.

Slowly you set the can down on the trash and walk into the hallway. The government-issued rifle hangs above the door, not out of paranoia. From protection. From them.

It wasn’t an explosion. Nor an invasion or a scientific breakthrough, like in the movies.

It was a slow accumulation of evidence. An escalation of “isolated incidents” too similar to ignore. Unexplained disappearances. Blood-drained bodies, animals reduced to carcasses in the suburbs. And then the videos: grainy, shaky, filmed with cell phones in the dead of night. Eyes that glowed too bright in the dark, shadows moving against the laws of nature, and smiles full of fangs.

At first, it seemed like a prank. A joke.

Then they started arming themselves.

The creatures of the night—vampires, werewolves, spirits, hybrids never classified—had always existed, only they had known how to hide for centuries. But the era of total surveillance shattered that fragile balance. Technology had discovered them and humans, predictably, responded with fear.

And with fear came solutions. Special patrols, UV ray weapons, sacred barriers, identification serums.

And above all, the Custodians: government and paramilitary groups licensed to hunt, contain, or eliminate every anomaly.

Officially, it was for collective safety.

Unofficially, it was a cold war.

Because humans had never truly accepted that they were no longer the only species at the top, and the creatures of the shadows… had never truly forgotten what the world was like before.

So the government equipped the population with weapons to counter these creatures if needed, and the number of paranormal events drastically dropped.

Your fingers tighten around the rifle’s handle, and you load it with a familiar motion. The metallic click rings loudly in the stillness of the house.

You open the front door, and the cold, wet air hits you full force. You pull your jacket tighter around you, looking down the alley beside the house. The bins are overturned, the open bags spilling their contents across the driveway. The streetlamp’s light flickers in the rain, making everything blurry and trembling.

The distant sound of sirens piques your curiosity.

You take a step forward, stepping down from the porch, then freeze again.

At first, you don’t see it.

You hear it.

Another thud to your left. You look toward the small tool shed in the garden and frown. The door was closed.

Too well closed.

You know that door. It’s old, it sticks, and you always leave it ajar so you don’t have to force it every time you need a trowel or a bucket.

And despite the strong wind, it stayed magically shut.

You feel a chill slide down your back.

You advance with the rifle gripped tightly in your hands, the barrel pointed ahead as you move in that direction. Your heart pounds hard but your hands stay steady. You’ve learned to keep panic at bay.

The grass beneath your shoes is soggy from all the water; every step makes a wet squelch. Your breath condenses in front of your mouth.

When you reach the door, you press your ear to the wood but hear nothing. Not even a breath.

With a sharp motion, you fling the door open. The wood creaks and hits the inside of the shed, and in the confusion, you see eyes shining in the dark and something reflexively bolts forward.

The first shot rings out in the night, echoing, and hits the back of a tin barrel. You’re about to reload when you see him emerge from the shadows. Kneeling.

Hands raised, palms open, eyes wide.

“No! Please! Don’t shoot!”

At first, you think it’s just a homeless person, maybe a drug addict or drunk who ended up in your garden, but then, in the dim glow of the outside lights, you notice more.

The hands are long, the nails too sharp. The skin pale as wax, blotched with blood. The neck stiff, the jaw clenched as if trying to contain unspeakable pain. And the eyes. When he realizes you won’t shoot, he raises them just slightly. They are glossy behind the wet hair falling over his forehead, but a type of red that could only belong to one of them. A creature of the night. A vampire.

“Stop right there!” you shout, clicking the magazine threateningly. Your voice is sharper than the rain pelting down on you.

You see him bend slightly over himself, knees scraping the grass as he inches forward, letting out a wet, deep sound, like he’s drowning.

“I-I didn’t mean to frighten ya. There was nowhere else! I'd have left… I just wanted to hide 'til—” he stammers, shoulders tensing as the police lights begin to color the horizon red and blue. They had probably heard the shot.

You don’t let anxiety take hold and don’t look away from the dangerous creature before you. He’s on your property now, and who knows how long he’d been hiding in the shed. They would ask questions, interrogate you for hours.

As common as those creatures were, so were the people who protected and hid them. And the system certainly didn’t treat them differently once they found out.

“Shit…” you whisper, your finger trembling on the trigger.

“I beg ya. Let me stay 'til they're gone. I won’t harm ya…” he continues in a whisper so low you have to strain to hear, as if he fears the Custodians might hear even through the wind and rain. “I swear on everythin'… on everythin' I've got left. Please, just for tonight. Don’t tell them I’m here.”

Each word is a cough. When he tries to move, you see one leg visibly tremble. His voice breaks on a sob that doesn’t even sound human.

You swallow hard. Instinct tells you to shoot him, to finish him before the Custodians find him.

But looking at him—so broken, so different from every story you’d heard or seen about vampires—you wonder what you’re really seeing.

Not a predator. Not a monster, at that moment.

Just a being close to his end.

“Move.” You say, rifle raised. “Inside. Before they see you.”

He looks at you as if he doesn’t understand.

“What?”

“You heard me. Inside. Now.” The sirens in the distance are getting closer. Time is running out.

The creature drags himself, almost crawling. Each step a groan, a test of endurance. His legs barely hold him; his face is contorted in pain. When he crosses the threshold of your house, he collapses in the hallway, his back against the wall, the rug slowly stained by the blood leaking from his leg. He stays there, without even the strength to turn toward you.

You slam the door shut.

The lock clicks. Two turns. Then silence, almost.

Now the rain is just a muffled sound against the windows.

You feel droplets drip down your hair and neck but don’t bother brushing them away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see your cat peek out from the kitchen and instantly flare up when it fixes its yellow eyes on the man. It emits a low, threatening hiss, like a little dragon. Its fur bristles and tail puffs before it leaps and disappears toward the bedroom as if it had seen the Devil himself.

The vampire barely lifts his face, cracked lips curling into something that might have been a smile.

“Looks like I've got a bit of charm for 'em.” He murmurs, voice trembling.

You don’t laugh. You don’t move. You don’t lower the weapon.

You still keep it pointed straight at his face.

“Don’t move.” You order. “At the slightest, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

He doesn’t protest. Just nods slowly. Then a jolt bends him in two. A moan escapes his lips and he wraps his hands around his leg exactly where his pants tear, muttering something you don’t understand—maybe a curse or a prayer.

After a few seconds, you notice the trembling. Fingers twitching near the gunshot wound.

You take a deep breath and curse your conscience.

You turn without a word and head to the bathroom cabinet, where you keep an old first aid kit. Nothing serious: iron tweezers, sterile gauze, a couple of bandages, and discount disinfectant.

You bring everything back to the hallway, rifle clutched in one hand, and toss the small box toward him. The kit lands half a meter away, slides on the floor, and opens sideways, spilling some of its contents.

“That’s all I’ve got.” You spit.

The vampire leans forward and slowly reaches for the tweezers.

You watch him tear more at his pants, the fabric soaked with blood and water clinging to his skin, revealing the bullet’s entry wound still lodged in the flesh.

You almost turn away when he inserts the tweezers into the wound, but you don’t. You can’t.

The sound is wet, disgusting. He growls, his head hitting the wall, sharp teeth clenched to keep from screaming.

A bloody, steaming piece of metal falls to the floor with a dull clack. It must have been silver.

The tweezers land beside the bullet, and you hear him let out a big sigh of relief.

“Thank you…” he whispers.

You stare at him.

“Don’t thank me.”

You lean against the wall opposite him for some stability on your tired legs, watching the wound start to close, the blood stop seeping.

“Name's Remmick.”

You frown at his introduction but don’t return the courtesy.

Time passes.

You stay there, unmoving. Eyes glued to the figure collapsed on your hallway floor. The vampire seems to have stabilized. His eyes closed, occasionally moaning—a low, painful sound that scratches your ears like sandpaper.

You wanted to say you’d stay awake. You wanted to believe it.

But your body had other plans. You’d had an exhausting day and the adrenaline rush was wearing off; it had kept you standing so far, but now it was pulling all the accumulated fatigue down onto your body.

You drag yourself to the couch without ever looking away from him. You keep him in your sights even as you sit down. But your eyelids grow heavy, your eyes burn, and your heartbeat slows, irregular.

Just five minutes, you tell yourself.

Just one breath.

Then the night closes over you.

You wake up with a jolt.

A gasp. Your heart pounding like a hammer against your sternum. Short of breath.

Morning light slams against the windows, filtering faintly through tightly drawn curtains.

A pale, milky white. The rain has stopped, and the world is quiet.

Too quiet.

You sit up suddenly, your stomach clenched in a knot as you look around. The hallway is empty.

The vampire’s body is no longer there.

“For God's sakes.”

The word comes out like a gunshot, sharp and dry. You immediately reach for your neck, searching for bite marks, teeth, anything. Your fingers move across your skin—nothing.

You check your arms. Then your legs, lifting the edge of your pants slightly—again, nothing.

No marks, no bites, no punctures.

But the anxiety doesn’t fade.

You scan the room, searching for any trace. The carpet is still stained, bandages are scattered, and the forceps are still crusted with dried blood—clear signs that the previous night hadn’t been a nightmare.

Then, in the gleam of the light, a glint catches your eye. The rifle.

It’s neatly placed on the low table next to the couch where you’d been lying.

You didn’t leave it there. You had it with you, gripped tight, until sleep took you.

You snatch it up and check the magazine. Still full, the two bullets nestled inside.

Your hand trembles slightly. You wonder how many chances he had—and how many he ignored.

But more than anything: why?

An unmistakable clatter of pots reaches your ears.

You grip the rifle tighter and take cautious steps down the hallway, shoulders tense and eyes scanning every corner. The window in the hall is closed—but you don’t remember shutting it.

Your steps falter when a warm, salty scent wafts into the air, sliding under your nose: bacon.

And something else.

You turn the corner, tension braced for an ambush. And instead…

“Mornin' to ya, sweetheart.”

The voice greets you before the image does. So light and full of cheer it nearly makes your temples throb.

The vampire, Remmick, is there. Standing at your kitchen stove.

He’s still wearing the stained white t-shirt he tried to clean, and one of your aprons is tied around his waist. His hair, still damp, is awkwardly slicked back but sticks out in odd angles.

You stop at the threshold, almost paralyzed, slowly lowering the rifle to let it rest at your side. You can’t speak. Can’t even think.

Remmick smiles as he moves a piece of sausage from the pan to a plate on the set table.

“Had a look in yer fridge, found a few bits.” he says, briefly adjusting the flame under the scrambled eggs. “Thought ya might fancy a hot breakfast, y'know -after pullin' some poor bastard outta the fire last night.”

Your eyes scan the room, taking in every detail.

The two windows: both closed, sealed carefully against daylight. Even the small gap above the sink is covered with a dish towel taped in place. Only the bluish glow of the overhead lights illuminates the scene, preserving his safety zone.

“Ya were up before I even got the coffee sorted,” he adds, nodding toward a gently steaming mug on the counter. “Only had the instant stuff, sadly. Spotted the moka, yeah, but…I reckon yer outta proper grounds.”

You stare at him. Still silent. Your mind unable to fit this scene into any definition of “threat.”

Remmick slides the finished plate along the counter, placing it on the opposite side from where he stands. He watches you intently as you approach—his red eyes now replaced with wide, gray, puppy-like ones.

You pick up the plate and bring it closer to the stool.

“Thanks… I guess?”

His eyes shine with such open gratitude it’s almost painful to bear—and you’re certain that if he had a tail, he’d be wagging it.

You rest the rifle against the kitchen island, not willing to be too far from it, and sit down on the stool.

“You said your name’s Remmick, right?”

He nods, wiping his hands on the towel before untying it from his waist.

“Is there a reason they were after you?” you ask firmly. You see him smirk, but before he can speak, you add, “Besides the obvious,” motioning at his entire being with your fork.

The smile fades from his lips. Not all at once, but slowly, like a candle dying out.

He leans on the back of the chair in front of him and lowers his gaze, as if debating whether to lie.

“They sold me off.” he murmurs finally.

You raise an eyebrow. “Sold?”

He grimaces, like the word tastes bad in his mouth.

“A volunteer… one o' them folks who, well, y'know how it goes…”

Of course, you’d heard about them. Volunteers—humans who offered themselves willingly to the creatures of the night. But even that had been outlawed and prosecuted.

“The fuckin' Custodians jumped me 'fore I'd even physically step away from the lad.”

He lowers his eyes for a second and you think, for a moment, he regrets his wording as you grimace visibly.

“Haven’t laid a fang on anyone without askin' in donkeys' years, swear it.”

The kitchen is silent for a few seconds after his justification.

Then, the alarm explodes in your chest like a gunshot.

A sharp, repeating buzz vibrating against your thigh from your pocket.

You grab it—7:48 - Work

The weight of time crashes down on you suddenly, like you’d forgotten the outside world still exists.

You have a job to show up for, a life that—until yesterday—was made of routine and reassuring silence.

You jump up, ignoring the full plate and now-cold coffee.

You swing open the closet by the front door, yank down your coat, and slip it on in swift movements.

The keys jingle as you grab them from the hook.

Luckily, you hadn’t changed clothes the night before—you’re still in your work uniform.

As for hygiene, you’d freshen up later after handling the store’s incoming inventory.

Meanwhile, Remmick watches you—just outside the kitchen doorway, peeking down the hallway.

You turn to him and force your voice flat, emotionless.

“By the time I get back,” you say, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, “I don’t want to find you here.”

You see his shoulders drop by a millimeter. When he opens his mouth to speak, you turn, open the door, and leave.

Morning and afternoon drag on, marked by the ticking clock above the register and the dull clatter of empty carts.

You sort the shipments quickly, serve customers with your usual professionalism, and close the till.

You watched the sun start to set behind the buildings of the industrial zone, casting dirty gold streaks across the windows and signs.

Sounds became muffled, and by 7 PM, you flipped the sign to CLOSED.

The walk home is always the same: four blocks, a downhill slope, two intersections.

The asphalt is still wet from last night’s rain, small puddles scattered here and there.

You slide the key into the lock and the door creaks as you push it with your shoulder.

Your hands are full—the bag, the keys, a crumpled sack from the corner store where you picked up coffee grounds and dinner.

You expect silence. Emptiness. Maybe a note on the table saying goodbye.

Instead…

The hallway, where last night there were footprints, blood, and mud, is spotless. The carpet is gone and the floor gleams, faintly scented with alcohol and soap.

You lower the grocery bag just inside the door and step into the living room.

You see him before you even cross the threshold.

There. Sitting on the floor by the cold fireplace.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye but says nothing.

“I told you to leave.”

You’re tired. So very tired.

“Yeah, I know” Remmick lifts his chin slightly but stays seated. “You did.”

The silence that follows is thick, full of unsaid things. But he breaks it quickly.

With soft, cracked words, turning onto his knees.

“I cleaned up the whole place. Set things straight. Blankets folded, all that. Even had a gander at the sink trap—it leaks a bit, but nothin' serious.”

You squint at him. You don’t care about the sink. Not now.

“You’re still here,” you repeat. It’s an accusation, not an observation.

Remmick shifts slightly, his gaze dropping back to the floor.

“Please,” he says. “Just let me stay. Not askin' for much. I can… I can lend a hand. Clean, keep an eye on the place when you’re out. Whatever ya need.”

You take a few steps closer.

You didn’t bring the rifle—but you feel like you could summon it with a thought, if needed.

“You’re asking me to take you in like a stray dog?”

“Jeez, darlin', I'll be whatever ya want. A bloody pet. A shadow in the corner. A dusty armchair -don't matter. I’ve nowhere else. Nowhere safe.”

You look into his dark pupils, those irises just a little too deep to be human. There’s pleading in them, yes—but something worse, too.

Abandonment.

You know creatures like him—vampires, especially—have perfected persuasion as a weapon. They sell pity and weakness when it suits them, and their instincts never truly sleep.

They’re hungry, unstable.

Lies with legs.

Remmick looks at you. He doesn’t get up.

And silently, without another word—but sealing your decision—you head to the kitchen to put something in your stomach before hunger makes you faint.

Against all odds, the cohabitation went well. The days began to blur together, like water slipping through your fingers. Every morning you woke up with a light pressure on your feet, and from that you knew Remmick was back.

He never talked about where he went at night. You had explicitly told him that if he killed someone you would not protect him again so you hoped he would respect this wish of yours.

He would leave quietly, shortly after you had fallen asleep, and return before the first light of day filtered through the tightly drawn curtains in the living room. You would find him curled up at your feet, immobile, as if he had never moved from there.

Your cat, who had his place of honor on the pillow next to yours, still seemed very wary of him and hissed every time he tried to stretch out on that side of the bed, making him take a step back and return to your feet. All this with some grumbling of displeasure from the vampire.

Instead, you got used to his presence as you get used to the constant noise of an old boiler: annoying at first, then strangely reassuring.

You began to ask his opinions, to organize movie nights on lighter days, to take long walks in the nearby park (reassured by his presence that would certainly ward off any other predators).

Every now and then, when you got close enough, you felt his icy fingers brush the inside of your wrist or any point he managed to reach and he would stare at you. Those eyes, which had something bestial, but also desperate.

And as your attitude towards him changed, his gestures changed too. He became more… attentive. More present. More fixed.

One day you found him outside your shop, waiting for you under a streetlight after closing. He didn’t say anything, he ran to you and stood next to you as you closed the shutter, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And from that day on, it was like that every night, when the sun was low enough for him to come out.

He watched you finish your shift. In silence.

From that day on, you started to notice strange things. When you talked to some customer for too long outside the shop at closing time, Remmick seemed to… change. His eyes became dark, shiny, like wet glass. If you laughed at someone’s comment, his hands twitched a little, closing into tight fists. But he didn’t say anything.

When the person disappeared, his true self returned. With that crooked smile and the stories of his day or what TV show he had found, scrolling a bit.

As a result, you never felt in danger. It was disturbing, sure. But you had gotten used to it. It had become part of your routine, like canned soup or cat biscuits.

That is, until the fateful day that changed everything came.

It wasn’t a date. Not officially.

He had been one of those regulars, the kind who always cracks the right joke and leaves you a few extra coins in the tip jar. When you explained that you were busy, he had smiled, almost amused, and suggested a drink after your shift. A drink, nothing more.

And so you had accepted. You hadn’t even had time to let Remmick know. The man had shown up at your shop door a few hours early and since your boss was already in there, you asked him if he could let you finish early that day. You had intended to have a quick drink and then go home, before the sun went down.

But that wasn’t to be.

When you come back, hours later, the sky is already dark and the air smells of wet earth. You open the door without making too much noise, but you see him right away. There. Standing in the hallway, as if he’s been staring at the door the whole time.

“Where were ya?” he asks softly. But his voice is too calm to be forced.

“At work.” You say, taking off your coat. “I left a little early. A customer offered me a drink and—”

Remmick approaches instantly. He’s a few steps away from you before you can finish speaking. His eyes swipe over you, your hands, your neck, your face. He touches your arm, then your shoulders, as if to make sure you’re okay.

“Are ya alright?” he murmurs. “Did someone…do ya harm?”

You look at him, confused. “No. I'm okay.”

But you see the exact moment he changes.

The smell. The smell of that man.

Remmick can smell it inches from your face. The cologne, strong, invasive. He tracks it with his nose, almost sniffing the air. Then he stops, his nostrils quivering.

His eyes flash red. And he stares at you.

“Who was it?” He whispers, his voice scratchy. “Who laid a hand on ya?”

“Remmick…”

“It’s on ya. Here-” he says, brushing your hair, “-and here…” His hand lingers just below your ear, the exact spot where your skin still feels warmest. “He put his mouth here, didn't he now?”

Your heart races. You take a half step back, but Remmick follows you. Not with anger. With hunger.

He kneels slowly in front of you, and his face comes close to your stomach, rubbing it against the material of your shirt making you swallow loudly. His hands move up your thighs and as he stands again he makes sure that his body rubs against yours until it reaches under your chin.

You feel his breath on you, against the column of your naked neck.

You don’t know what to do. Your brain is confused, you don’t recognize the creature in front of you.

“I've to… get it off ya.” He continues. “I can’t bear the stink of it. I don’t want it lingerin' on ya, not a trace.”

He gently brings you against the piece of furniture in the hallway and you, dazed by that mixture of desire and anxiety, let him do it. The edge pushes painfully against your back until his hands close on your hips again and lifts you up to sit on it as if you didn’t weigh a gram.

Remmick slides between your legs before you can close them, his body leaning on yours.

“I… I can go wash myself if it bothers you…” you add, pressing your palms on his shirt-covered chest to maintain distance and making him growl.

His hands leave your body only to rest on the sides of the furniture, blocking your way out as your breath catches in your throat when his face comes inches from yours.

“How fuckin' dare they lay a finger on ya…” He whispers, and when he speaks, his voice is broken by something more animalistic. His face bends on your neck, slightly up, and there, right where he had felt the other’s mark, his lips open.

You slide a hand into his hair, ready to pull with all your strength before he bites you but instead of the stinging pain of his teeth, you only feel a slow, wet caress, which makes you gasp involuntarily.

Your grip on his head loosens and you hear him sigh, his breath hot against your wet skin. Even though his body temperature is still a few degrees cooler than normal, the way he touches you burns.

His hands move again, closing on the sides of your waist and gently pushing forward until his hips are flush with yours. There’s no urgency in the gestures, but no slowness either. He’s clearly driven by a certain need that goes beyond the body.

“I still feel it…It's still clingin' to ya, love.” His voice is plaintive and he brushes you behind the ear with another slow lick, as if he wants to erase every trace of the other’s passage with his tongue.

“You have no notion how much it hurts. It's like fire on my skin, knowin' someone even looked at ya… thought about ya… touched ya…”

He leans down again, his lips landing on your neck with sick adoration, while one hand slips under your sweater, resting against your belly, his forehead laze on yours, shaking.

“I don’t just want to have ya…” he whispers against the skin of your shoulder. “I want to belong to ya. Yours to toss aside, break if you must, use as you will. And when someone so much as looks at ya, I want them to know -I’m there. Always there. And you’re mine.”

The sound he makes when your fingers close slightly in his hair sends a jolt of pleasure to the center of your core and makes you inadvertently grind against him, earning another hiss of need from him.

You feel it. Hard, hot, against your pants-covered lower parts, and when you use that hardness to find a moment of relief, he bites your shoulder lightly but without breaking the skin.

His chest rests against yours, holding you still but not imprisoned.

You are free, you could push him away. But you don’t.

And he knows it.

“Tell me ya want it too…” he whines, pressing against you insistently and making you tense when he presses just right but not enough. “That's it's not just pity. That ya want to keep me. That ya want me here. Always.”

His eyes, red now, search for you, while you’re distracted taking from him, lit by a feverish light.

“Let me stay, baby. Let me be the one who keeps ya safe. The one who warms your bones. Let me be the shadow, trailin' after ya. The beast lyin' at your feet. The lover in your bed.”

Then, lower, with that desperate tone that makes your insides twist:“Let me be yours, for fuck's sake…please.”

And that’s the last straw.

You tilt his face at a comfortable angle and press your lips against his, forcefully. Your tongue invades his mouth but Remmick responds with the same ardor, intertwining his tongue with yours.

His hand, firm on your belly, begins to move up under your shirt, making its way with trembling fingers, as if he were touching something sacred. Every inch of your skin lights up under him. He moves like a man who is thirsty and the only source of water is you.

“Do ya even know what ya are to me now?” He asks you with a thick voice as his lips separate from yours and pass over your chest, still dressed. “The poison...and the cure, both.”

You almost laugh at his dramatic nature but swallow it when the sweater is the first piece to be discarded, leaving you under his heated and supernatural gaze. It’s all there: the adoration, the longing, but above all that silent madness that scared you the first time and now… tightens your stomach in a vice that you can’t untangle.

He bends over your breast, taking it between his lips and clenching his teeth on the small bud in the center, making you arch against him.

The hand that isn’t busy holding your breast ventures under your pants—which you hadn’t even noticed he’d opened—and his fingers slide between your soaked folds, pinching your clit between them.

You let out a meow that makes him growl. It’s a hoarse sound that slides slowly down with him, he grabs the waistband of your pants to slide them down your legs and leaves you naked under his hungry gaze.

“Look at yourself, darlin'. Is all this for me?” His tongue flattens against your wetness, gathering it as it passes and, as if the first taste had gone to his head, he dives headfirst between your legs, devouring you completely.

“Fuck…you’re an idiot…” you moan, pressing yourself as close as possible to his mouth that closes on your delicate mound.

You feel his fingers wet with your own pleasure, pressing against your entrance and pushing in effortlessly, pumping forcefully in and out to draw as many sounds as possible from your lips.

He licks you with unnatural slowness, rhythmically, as if it were an ancient ritual.

Just when you feel your orgasm reaching you, his fingers and mouth move away from you. His lips return up. He kisses your belly, your chest, your throat, until he returns to your face. His red eyes burn into yours.

“What are you-?”

“Let me do it.” He stops you, as he brings one of your hands to the fly of his pants. Your fingers, until then useless, close around his clothed erection, making him shudder and whine. “Let me fuck you, darlin'. Let that sweet pussy tighten 'round my cock.”

His face bends to yours, his nose running along your jaw, like a dog asking for a firmer caress. And you give it to him.

You undo his belt in one swift motion and unzip his zipper with a slowness that could have killed the most patient man.

When your fingers capture his erection you let his weight rest against your palm, smearing your palm with his precum and pump down once to test the length and width. Remmick moans against your cheek and pushes against your hand, the tip brushing your inner thigh.

You curve your lips into a smirk.

“Do you think you deserve to fuck this pussy, Remmick?” Remmick pulls back to look at you, surprised by your tone but definitely delirious, his mouth slightly open, revealing traces of small fangs.

“…No.”

You frown as you twist your wrist, gripping it harder, but he continues.

“Shit…no, I don’t reckon I deserve this.”

His hips snap forward and you almost lose your grip when he comes so incredibly close to your entrance, leaving a trail of liquid.

“But I swear…I could spend me whole life tryin' to earn it. Every day. Every bleedin' night. With all that's in me.”

He brushes his lips against your forehead, submissive and feverish.

“Go ahead, then.” You slide the tip of his erection against your pussy lips, wetting them with your own arousal, his hands closing on your hips, and you tilt him toward your entrance. “Make me yours.”

You feel his breath hitch and then he does.

He takes you.

It’s not a human sound, much less an animal one, that he lets out when he enters you completely, without giving you a second to get used to the stretch. You accept it with a hiss of pain, tightening your legs around his pelvis.

You’re not surprised when he pulls back slowly, your walls closing in on him as if to keep him in place, and then he sinks in deeply again, establishing a punishing rhythm. The piece of furniture you’re leaning against bangs against the wall and for a moment you pray that he doesn’t create a hole.

Every thrust is an oath. Every whine, a broken soul that offers itself to you without asking for anything in return but yourself.

“Ah… fuck… you’re…” and he never finishes the sentence. The words blur with his breathing and need so he kisses you violently and sweetly at the same time, his tongue moving in your mouth with the same rhythm with which his body sinks into yours. He clings to you as if you could save him, and destroy him at the same time.

As his hips begin to wobble, you feel two fingers press against your clit, curling your toes and digging your heels into Remmick’s back.

You move your face away from his to get more air in your lungs as your orgasm hits you hard, making you see stars.

Your tight channel grips his erection and you hear him moan in your ear as he comes inside you, murmuring your name like a plea, his hands still gripping your hips, almost afraid you might vanish beneath him.

And as he tucks his head between your shoulder and neck, nuzzling his nose against the column of your throat with a contented sigh, you realize it’s not just possession.

It’s belonging.

Video Gif: Here Dividers: cafekitsune

[mushr90]

mush's ultimate fic rec guide!

𓍊𓋼 a masterlist of all my favourite works made by various creators here on tumblr. most of these are series', but i've categorised them by 'series' and 'oneshots' just incase. i've made sure to tag them, link the posts, and add a brief summary for each, so y'all can digest and enjoy too! i'll also be updating this regularly hehe (*ᵕᴗᵕ)⁾⁾

𓍊𓋼 please read through all of the tags listed for each fic carefully as i am not going to be listing them here! you control the media you consume.

𓍊𓋼 updated: 22/07/25 🔔

𓍊𓋼 key: ✩ = ongoing / ✮ = completed

Red Dead Redemption II

⟢ coming soon!!

⟢

Baldur's Gate 3

⟢ coming soon!!

⟢

The Last of Us

series

⟢ 'Honey, Stomach, Mine' by @netherfeildren (alpha! joel miller x omega! fem! reader) ✮

summary: "existence is a needful thing. choice is fickle, nature inescapable. run to the end of the world, joel, all those things will still find you. she'll still come for you."

⟢ 'daddy next door' by @cavillscurls (dom! joel miller x sub! fem! reader) (has been moved to ao3!!) ✩

summary: "its summer in texas, and when the dashing joel miller moves in next door, your less than favorable life gets completely turned around."

⟢ 'of rage and ruin' by @corazondebeskar-reads (werewolf! alpha! joel miller x omega! fem! reader) ✩

summary: "joel miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. he turns into a much different kind of monster than he expected, though."

⟢ 'Waiting Game' by @gutsby (dbf! joel miller x fem! reader) ✩

summary: "joel miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. a cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you."

⟢ 'Feels Right" by @joelsrose (stepdad! joel miller x fem! reader) ✩

summary: with his southern drawl, worn toolbox, and thick hands capable of things you could never imagine, joel miller is everything you could ever want but could never have fabricated into a single man. that is... until he decides the wait is over. until he decides he's what you need.

Resident Evil

⟢ coming soon!!

⟢

Call of Duty

series

⟢ 'Cherry Red, Crimson Blood' by @soaps-mohawk (tf141 x omega! fem! reader) ✩

summary: "task force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what price has been saying since its formation. two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it. it works for a while, until the omega initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so price thinks."

⟢ '𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚐 𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗𝚗𝚢' by @void-my-warranty (simon riley x fem! reader x johnny mactavish) ✩

summary: you and simon have been together for years, but, unable to give you what you truly want in the bedroom, what you need, he decides to bring in the only other man he trusts to do the job -- johhny. as feelings grow and troubles arise, will this arrangement come to a crumbling head, or will there be an alternative solution?

⟢ 'AS NEEDED' by @novemberheart (tf141 x omega! fem! reader) ✩

summary: after having previously been rejected by task force 141, their decision to finally accept an omega into their pack comes with many troubles and uncertainty, and your new place here might not be as permanent as you think.

⟢ 'Jaws' by @alkalineapparition (simon riley x hybrid! fem! reader) (this one is on ao3) ✩

summary: "alone and half feral in a dirty cell, ghost finds you during a raid beneath a military research lab. it quickly becomes clear that something isn't right with you, your behaviour more beast than human. a result of horrific human experiments, you're a failed attempt at making genetically modified soldiers with killer instincts and keen senses. instead they produced you - a mutt. ghost is assigned to be your handler, to help you heal and shape you in to the 141's very own attack dog. but the bond between a handler and their beast eventually turns into something more..."

⟢ 'In Limbo' by @ilium-ilia (mafia! simon riley x fem! reader) ✩

summary: "joining the mafia is no different than selling a soul to the devil, and it's something simon riley is all too willing to do if it means keeping his family safe. it isn't until he meets you–the girl who runs from everything–that he realises there are much worse things to be caught up in."

⟢ 'Daughters with Soft Underbellies' by @ilium-ilia (outlaw! john price x fem! reader) ✩

summary: "all your life you have known nothing but the word of god and your father's short temper. every day, you are forced to turn the other cheek for minor mistakes you make within your father's gaze. yet, as a devout follower to god and your father, you have no one else to turn to. when the owner of the saloon tells you about some strangers lurking around town, you decide to take your chances with these wayward men in the hopes that they'll save you. but they are dangerous, conniving bandits; a fact you learn a little too late. you should have known that sheep who stray too far from the flock are at the mercy of the wolves. better sharpen those teeth of yours, little lamb."

⟢ 'anatomy of us' by @bi-writes (alpha! simon riley x omega! fem! reader) ✩

summary: "in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you."

⟢ 'Breaking Bread' by @softaestluv (simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: "simon riley who is quite the anomaly of a man, or human, rather. your lieutenant who has only spoken a handful of words to you. simon riley who happens to be sat at the only open table in the mess hall."

⟢ 'Grease & Grime Won’t Break Your Bones' by @softaestluv (mechanic! simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: "you never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is."

⟢ (1) 'RETURN TO SENDER' (original) / (2) 'IN CONTEMPT' (sequel) by @sai-int (criminal! simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: (1) "it was a joke. A letter to a criminal—uk's most wanted. you told him he was hot. told him you were a virgin. left your address, because it’s not like he’d ever get out, right?" | (2) "you tried to move on, but no one quite measures up; not to the way he touched you, not to the way he ruined you. but when he reappears, you can feel him even before you see him. the past has a way of punishing disobedience, and now, it’s here to settle the score."

⟢ 'RASPBERRY GIRL' by @peachesofteal (dom! simon riley x sub! fem! reader) ✮

summary: captain! simon riley takes an interest in the sweet and docile little bakery-worker and vows to make her wholly his.

⟢ '𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤' by @cinnamonghostcrunch (simon riley x fem! reader) ✩

summary: "where in you move to manchester to start fresh, only to cross paths with a mysterious local who changes everything. what started as an unexpected encounter soon evolves into something much more, growing increasingly complicated as his secrets and your doubts cast shadows over everything."

⟢ 'INK & NEEDLE' by @gloomwitchwrites (tattoo artist! simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: "a night out in london to celebrate your friend’s upcoming marriage ends with a quick hook-up in a club’s green room. you don’t expect to see your masked man ever again, and you leave it as a one-time thing. three years later, you’re back in england, and find yourself facing the man you walked away from at that club. he's running a tattoo parlor just down the street from where you’re staying. over time, your paths cross and cross again until the two of you are tangled up in a messy web. will it last? or will one of you walk away?"

⟢ 'houndtooth' by @bitterrfruit (simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: "you're the pampered wife of a russian warlord. ghost hunts you down and finds a use for you."

⟢ 'LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO' by @peachesofteal (doctor! simon riley x nurse! fem! reader) ✩

summary: all big and private, though unfathomably soft when it comes to the job, simon riley is one of the leading neonatal surgeons in the country, and a force to be reckoned with. just having been transferred to his floor, will the raise alone be enough to handle his attitude?

⟢ 'ichor tongue; salted wounds' by @ilium-ilia (warlord! simon riley x servant! fem! reader) ✮

summary: bound forever as a servant to emperor shepherd, you find yourself unsure what to do when a band of barbarians swarm your city and slaughters your lord. a warlord usurps the throne and instantly implements changes; a strange man who goes only by ghost, many are wise to give him a wide berth less their skulls become the new faceplate to his mask. deciding to keep your shackles, you serve your new leader despite the monstrous scars that warn you otherwise, but your mutism garners more attention from him than you anticipated, and he seems keen on ensuring that you sing properly for him one of these days.

⟢ 'THE KEEPER AND THE KITTEN' by @byfawn (simon riley x kitty! fem! reader) ✩

summary: "simon riley is a very dangerous man shaped by scars and hardened by a life of violence. but when he finds you—an innocent kitten hybrid caged in a lab—something in him shifts. he owns you and he takes very good care of what's his."

*major credit to all the creators mentioned, and to the ones i'm yet to discover! you guys are so talented and i love you ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و♡

[theambitiouswoman]

Want a long, healthy life? Start journaling! 📝✨

Journaling isn’t just a way to clear your mind—it’s a very powerful tool that helps both your nervous system & your cells, which are actually the most important parts of your overall health.

Why is this important? Every time you experience stress, your nervous system reacts, triggering the “fight or flight” response leading to chronic stress which leads to cellular damage, inflammation & a weakened immune system. But journaling helps regulate this by giving your mind an outlet to process & release those pent up emotions. We have already discussed how trauma gets stuck in your body and creates illnesses. When you write, you’re signaling to your nervous system that it’s safe to relax, shift out of stress mode & restore balance.

This process also impacts your cells by reducing the effects of stress hormones like cortisol, which, if left unchecked, can negatively impact your body’s functions, from digestion to immune response. By regularly journaling, you’re helping reduce cortisol levels, allowing your cells to regenerate & function optimally.

Just by journaling and expressing your thoughts, you release emotional tension & strengthen your body’s resilience, leading to a healthier, longer life.

The answer is always found in the simple things you guys, stop waiting for a huge miracle or complicated process. It doesn’t have to be. Big things sometimes have very simple solutions. Just have to overcome our minds.

[watcher7-9]

The Paradox of Love and Logic

Dr. Veritas Ratio X reader II Fluffy II Might be OOC

There’s been changes, if you had two brain cells that you could rub together you could tell Dr. Veritas Ratio had started to change. Well not completely, but for one person. All the students had noticed the subtle difference in his eyes when you walked by or said hi. It was odd, truly. Even Ratio himself had noticed. He could feel like heart drumming against his chest as he placed a hand onto his chest. Interesting. I’ve been experiencing an increase of heart rate and slightly higher dopamine levels when they are near. This could indicate—no it’s impossible, I must perform further observations to verify these results. Dr. Ratio failed again and again as he just couldn’t understand how to suppress them. After so many failures he felt like he was falling deeper and deeper as if these emotions were an endless void. So, he moved onto his next step.

Denial. Dismissing these feelings as a hindrance to his work; an obstruction if you must. This is…irreverent. There’s no logical reason to entertain such distractions. Focus, Ratio. Though as his mind battles with his heart, he admits defeat. Emotions are what make us human after all so decides to embrace these… inconveniences he decided. He had decided a plan, a well thought out one. He had taken up all the space on the large chalkboard he had in his home. Spending a few days planning out every single detail. Through his efforts and a lot of smeared out chalk marks he had contemplated the ultimate plan…

Operation: Heart’s Equation

1. Offering unusual acts of kindness

You had started to notice these small gestures when one day he approached you and handed you a granola bar. “Here. I have calculated your caloric intake for the day and you’re missing approximately 35.5 grams of protein. This snack should help balance that.” Before you could ask any questions he just placed it in your hand before walking away as if it was nothing. Little did you know his heart was racing as he walked off.

After settling down in the chair in his office he couldn’t help but overthink. Did he do it right? It was the perfect setting, no? Passing by as a subtle interaction in the hallways, he had an excuse to walk off afterward; given the excuse he could say he was busy, oh but now he rethinks it he shouldn’t have been so frank. Human emotions truly are complicated. Dr. Ratios mind races with excitement and self-doubt as he sighed.

2. Trying to impress you

You had tried to find a seat in the library, but it was filled. Everyone was trying to catch up on their assignments and today was your unlucky day. You scan around the room and notice Dr. Ratio sitting quietly at the corner table on his own. The table had a neat stack of papers as he typed on his laptop. As you approached him, you hesitated. He was known for his ruthless and upfront nature making students cry and run out of his classroom. You had witnessed it once yourself it was quite the experience to say the least. But you needed this time to study, and you had finally taken time out of your heck of a schedule to go to the library to catch up on work.

“Could I sit here? The other spots are taken…sorry,” you asked him hesitantly. Perking up from his screen he replied with little to no enthusiasm, “I suppose there’s space.” You breathed out a breath of relief that you didn’t know you were holding in. At least he didn’t just reject you. As you settled down and started to work you could almost feel his gaze shifting to you for a mere second in the corner of your eye a few times. “What are you working on?” Dr. Ratio suddenly suddenly asked. “Huh? I’m tasked on writing a paper around the topic of human brains. So, I picked advanced neurocybernetics but there’s not been many reliable sources,” you sigh as you explained the situation. “I have a few sources that I could introduce you to, they contain examples and proven solutions. Allow me to demonstrate my latest research on this topic for you. I’m certain this will benefit your paper.”

3. Try to...Flirt?

You two had ran into each other in a coffee shop when he first tried to flirt with you. It indeed had taken Ratio quite some time before finding the “perfect” opportunity. “You enjoy coffee as well? The flavors are like a chemical equation of sorts. It is quite the balance of acidity and sweetness if I must say. If I had to take a guess, the molecules interaction between the compounds create a 87% satisfaction rate. Hmm maybe even a little than that. ” Dr. Ratio commented as he held up his coffee cup before taking a sip. “Um that’s an…interesting way to think about it.”

After take a sip of from his cup he remarked with a small glint in his eyes, “I could suggest a few other brews like the one you have that I personally recommend. Perhands something with a higher concentration of…romance?” A slight smile tugged at his lips as he sees you laugh. “A scientist testing the water aren’t you?” You tease back with a smug smile. Dr. Ratio’s eyes widen slightly not expecting you to tease him. A red hue spreads over his cheeks as he clears his throat. “A-ah no! I mean um, not literally. But you just seem like the person to enjoy a coffee break from time to time.”

Oh you might just be the solution to his equation. A truly complicated problem. And oh he hopes just one day, he’ll be the solution to all your problems.

[mypoorocs]

Shaking

In honour of my recent trip to the ER because I started shaking uncontrollably for no discernable reason, here are some ideas for whumpees:)

Randomly shaking for no discernable reason is actually pretty scary. A lot of movies and TV shows use shaking as The main visual indicator that a character has been poisoned or their body is shutting down, so there may be a fear in the back of your mind that you are dying or irreparable damage is being done, and the more your shaking worsens the worse the fear will be.

Fear can make shaking worse. You may not have started shaking because you were scared, but if you get scared while already shaking it may get significantly worse.

Shaking feels more like caffeine jitters than shivering. It's slower and the movement are bigger than caffeine jitters, but, like with caffeine, you feel it in your chest and "blood"/veins. Even if you aren't visibly moving you can still feel the shaking. With shivering the movements are sharper, and you can supress it (unless you've got early stage hypothermia or something). You can't supress shaking.

Shaking makes it hard to squeeze things or hold onto anything that requires a firm grip.

With mild/moderate shaking, you can still hold things as long as you don't have to grip them tightly, or there is something to press/pull against. I didn't have a problem brushing my teeth because the brush is wedged between my teeth and lips, but I did struggle to squeeze the toothpaste. Placing things back in my open purse was harder than managing the zipper.

Motor control isn't as precise. You might reach for something, but your hand ends up going several centimetres in the wrong direction.

The motor control issues may affect ability to walk more than the actual shaking. You may end up doing a less dramatic variation of the drunken sailor walk because your feet just aren't going where you tell them to.

Muscle weakness may also affect walking. I felt like my legs could have given out at anytime.

Balance will be off, especially when standing up or leaning over. You may lean over way too far and whack your head on something, or you may stand up and immediately fall back down.

If the shaking is really mild/subtle it can still be noticed when picking up something light like a pen. Cell phones may or may not be too heavy to see it.

Idk if this is true if all shaking, but that little rocking thing some people's body's do right as they fall asleep was the number one aggravater of my shaking. My solution to this problem was just to stay awake (for all you lovers of the whumpee refusing to sleep trope).

Being woken up during a shaking episode is very disorienting. It may take several minutes just to be able to sit up in bed without feeling like you just spun around 30 times in a row and don't know which way is up anymore.

If your whumpee gets those little full body twitches/jerks - the ones when you have an upsetting thought and your body does a Hard Physical Reset to get rid of it - shaking will make the twitch/jerk go on non-stop for a full minute or more before it finally dies down. If your whumpee is really anxious and keeps getting new boughts of twitching/jerks, it may be an hour or more before the shaking returns to normal.

If your whumpee has a bouncy leg, it will be extra bouncy.

Mild/moderate shaking doesn't affect vision, speech, or ability to think. Your whumpee w-won't b-be s-s-stuttering.

Mild/moderate shaking doesn't hurt. I can't speak for more severe shaking though.

Shaking may come with other neurological symptoms. For me, it was pins and needles tingling in the tips of my fingers and toes, as well as stabbing and squeezing pains all over my body that came and went.

Bonus: Shaking + Hypermobility/joint instability

If your whumpee has some kind of symptomatic hypermobility or joint instability disorder shaking might have some additional side affects (from someone with G-HSD/hEDS):

Some small joints may shake themselves in and out of their sockets. My jaw wobbled in and out a bunch - I had to hold it in place with my hand at one point - and my finger knuckles kept locking in that position where they snap between open and closed, and I had to keep cracking them back in place.

Your whumpee will roll their ankle. It's not an if, it's a when.

A hypermobile whumpee may subconsciously start clenching the muscles around their more unstable joints as you shake (like hips, shoulders, wrists) to hold them in place. This will cause pain eventually, and they may suddenly realize they've been holding those joints in weird positions for who knows how long, which may cause further instability.

For cane-using whumpees: I thought maybe the muscle weakness and shaking would make it useless to use my cane, but because I was just pressing down on it with my body weight, and I didn't need to clench or hard-grip it, it was actually fine. The greatest hazard was actually tripping over my cane because my feet weren't going where they were supposed to. But the cane did give me my balance back, so depending on the activity it was a worthwhile trade off.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

Some interesting science analyzed

BY BROOKS LEITNER

Imagine lying back in an enclosed chamber where you bask for 90 minutes in a sea of pure oxygen at pressures two to three times that felt at sea level. This is the world of hyperbaric oxygen therapy (HBOT), a technology that’s been around for decades and is now being explored as a possible treatment for Long COVID.

"The silence on the inside is deafening at first,” says John M.,* who has undergone dozens of HBOT treatments for his persistent Long COVID symptoms. Fortunately, there is a television outside the chamber in view, and it is easy to communicate with the provider if needed. While the potential protocol is still being refined, patients may undergo up to 40 HBOT sessions to address some of the most problematic, lingering symptoms of this complex condition.

HBOT is a therapeutic process that has been widely used to treat such conditions as decompression sickness in scuba divers, carbon monoxide poisoning, and diabetic foot ulcers. In HBOT, the body is exposed to 100% oxygen, a significant increase from the 21% oxygen concentration we typically breathe. The therapy takes place in an enclosed chamber where the air pressure is elevated above normal levels. The combination of high-pressure and high-oxygen conditions enhances the amount of oxygen that can reach the body's tissues. The hope is that this therapy can provide the same relief and healing to people with Long COVID that it does for those with other conditions.

According to John M., HBOT was the first treatment that helped with his sleep and reduced his heart palpitations. “At one point after hospitalization, my Long COVID symptoms were so bad that I could barely walk or talk. HBOT was a great tool that really assisted with my recovery,” he said. John added that he hopes the medical community will achieve a better understanding of how HBOT can help relieve suffering for patients with Long COVID and that more research will increase access to this innovative therapy.

Does HBOT improve Long COVID symptoms? One key observation from the work of Inderjit Singh, MBChB, an assistant professor at Yale School of Medicine (YSM) specializing in pulmonary, critical care, and sleep medicine, is that Long COVID patients often experience debilitating fatigue. Based on Dr. Singh’s previous Long COVID research, the exhaustion is thought to be linked to the muscles’ inability to efficiently extract and utilize oxygen.

To picture how HBOT might work, you can think of your muscles as engines sputtering, struggling to get the fuel they need. If oxygen is the gas that fuels the muscles, it’s as if you are trying to complete your daily routine while the gas tank is running on “empty.” By aiming to directly address this oxygen utilization impairment, HBOT may be a potential solution.

A systematic review by researchers at the China Medical University Hospital noted that HBOT could tackle another major factor in the Long COVID puzzle: oxidative stress. This relates to the body's struggle to maintain balance when harmful molecules, known as free radicals, run amok, causing chronic inflammation.

Research co-authored by Sandra K. Wainwright, MD, medical director of the Center for Hyperbaric Medicine and Wound Healing at Greenwich Hospital in Connecticut, suggests that HBOT, with its high-oxygen environment, might dampen this chronic inflammation by improving mitochondrial activity and decreasing production of harmful molecules. Other potential benefits of HBOT in the treatment of Long COVID may include restoration of oxygen to oxygen-starved tissues, reduced production of inflammatory cytokines, and increased mobilization of hematopoietic stem cells—primary cells that transform into red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets.

HBOT for Long COVID: Current and ongoing research Several small-scale reports have indicated that HBOT is safe for patients with Long COVID.

To address this question, a trial that followed the gold standard of modern medical research—a randomized, placebo-controlled, double-blind design—assigned 73 Long COVID patients to either receive 40 sessions of HBOT or a placebo of only 21% oxygen. The study observed positive changes in attention, sleep quality, pain symptoms, and energy levels among participants receiving HBOT. In a longitudinal follow-up study published in Scientific Reports, the authors at the Tel Aviv University found that clinical improvements persisted even one year after the last HBOT session was concluded. In a second study, the same authors focused on heart function, measured by an echocardiogram, and found a significant reduction in heart strain, known as global longitudinal strain, in patients who received HBOT.

In another study, 10 patients with Long COVID underwent 10 HBOT treatments over 12 consecutive days. Testing showed statistically significant improvement in fatigue and cognitive function. Meanwhile, an ongoing trial at the Karolinska Institute in Sweden has reported interim safety results wherein almost half of the Long COVID patients in the trial reported cough or chest discomfort during treatment. However, it was unclear whether HBOT exacerbated this symptom or if this adverse effect was due to the effort of participation by patients suffering from more severe Long COVID symptoms.

Is HBOT currently available as a treatment for Long COVID? For HBOT to become a mainstream treatment option for Long COVID, several critical priorities must be addressed. First, there is currently no established method for tailoring HBOT dosages to individual patients, so researchers must learn more about the specific features or symptoms that indicate potential benefits from HBOT. At the same time, we need to identify factors that may be associated with any adverse outcomes of HBOT. And finally, it’s important to determine how long these potentially beneficial effects last in a larger cohort. Will just a few HBOT trials be enough to restore patients to their baseline health, or will HBOT become a recurring component of their annual treatment regimen?

For now, HBOT remains an experimental therapy—and as such is not covered by insurance. This is a huge issue for patients because the therapy is expensive. According to Dr. Wainwright, a six-week course of therapy can run around $60,000. That’s a lot to pay for a therapy that’s still being studied. In the current completed studies, different treatment frequencies and intensities have been used, but it’s unclear how the treatment conditions affect the patient’s outcome.

“I have had some patients notice improvements after only 10 or 15 treatments, whereas some others need up to 45 treatments before they notice a difference,” notes Dr. Wainwright. “I think that HBOT is offering some promising results in many patients, but it is probably a strong adjunctive treatment to the other spectrum of things Long COVID patients should be doing, like participating in an exercise, rehab, and nutritional program.”

Dr. Singh notes that “a major challenge for research is the heterogeneity of Long COVID. It is hard to determine which symptoms to treat and enroll patients into trials based on them.”

Perhaps treatments that target multiple issues caused by Long COVID, like HBOT, may help overcome this challenge.

*Not his real name.

Brooks Leitner is an MD/PhD candidate at Yale School of Medicine.

The last word from Lisa Sanders, MD: Hyperbaric oxygen therapy (HBOT) is just one of the many existing treatments that are being looked at to treat Long COVID. We see this with many new diseases—trying to use a treatment that is effective in one set of diseases to treat another. And there is reason for optimism: We know that HBOT can deliver high levels of oxygen to tissues in need of oxygen. That’s why it’s used to treat soft tissue wounds. If reduced oxygen uptake is the cause of the devastating fatigue caused by Long COVID, as is suggested by many studies, then perhaps a better delivery system will help at least some patients.

Studies referenced:

bmcinfectdis.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s12879-023-08002-8

www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8806311/

www.nature.com/articles/s41598-024-53091-3

www.nature.com/articles/s41598-022-15565-0

www.frontiersin.org/journals/medicine/articles/10.3389/fmed.2024.1354088/full

www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC11051078/#:~:text=Proposed%20Mechanism%20of%20HBOT%20o

[melishade]

what if in Remorse Timeline. Instead of Optimus taking care of Gabi, Terminus is the one taking care of Gabi (maybe add falco if he's not in a coma) and when they find out that this titan is Matthew Hayes/Megatron Dad... they'll so suprised

Megatron getting mad at Gabi

Terminus: D-16, she's just a Kid..

Falco and Gabi: D-16??

Previous Episode of the Remorse Timeline

Megatron's about to get real mad.

So again, Terminus isn't a fighter, but he does have a wealth of knowledge and supplies in terms of history and agriculture. As a result he's been asked by the military to help grow some of those crops on the island. So that's what he's been doing prior to the Liberio attack. People are stunned to see a titan planting seeds and growing crops, but hey, he's also giving tips on how to grow said things. Mr. Blause approves of Terminus' methods.

Megatron is still actively avoiding him, trying so hard to focus on the mission and finding out where Eren is! Terminus would want to talk to Megatron and ask how he's been, and everyone else is pressuring Megatron into talking to Terminus. Again, huge opportunity so many of them wish they had with their deceased loved ones. Armin tries to convince him personally, but:

Megatron:....Your situation is different from mine. You still fight for the betterment of your island. You still consider the safety of the world as a whole, trying to find a peaceful solution through the chaos. I became worse than the very thing I swore to destroy. If your parents were to return, they would still see remnants of a kind and gentle son. I am nothing more than a husk used by the god of destruction! There is nothing left of D-16! He died in the mines that day! So tell me Armin: what in the Allspark am I supposed to say?! How am I to handle things differently?! How am I supposed to tell Terminus that he should have let die in the mines that day in order to spare himself and Cybertron the pain of what I would become?!

Megatron stands up: I don't want sympathy or empathy or remorse! I just...I wished Terminus had stayed dead. It would have spared us both.

Terminus does hear about that and he just feels even worse and kind of gives up on Megatron really talking to him at all.

That being said, Terminus doesn't get involved in the Liberio attack, only hearing about it word of mouth. And I'll be generous, Megatron's own distractions during the Liberio fight changes a few small moments, leading to Falco not getting knocked into a coma. He does fall off the ship because he unable to find stable balance, and the bullet nearly hitting him doesn't help, but Sasha catches him and brings him back up to the ship. But Gabi still has that bullet hole in her ear, and she and Falco are prisoners in a jail cell. They don't find out about the whole Megatron/Matthew reveal. Megatron doesn't visit them this time around, but Gabi and Falco still break out of prison. Note that Gabi and Falco are still on bad terms with each other, Gabi being the more hostile and it's only getting worse after Zofia's death in Liberio.

As Gabi and Falco are on the run, the two come across one of Terminus' crop yield that's already producing fruit. Falco and Gabi are hungry, but it's Falco that makes the move. Gabi insists that they don't eat food off an island of devils, but Falco can't wait. He tries to grab a few for himself and Gabi, but yells when something picks him up by his jacket and lifts him in the air, dropping the food in the process. Falco is terrified as he's now face to face with Terminus holding him in one servo while using a cane to support himself. Before Terminus can speak, Gabi screams and rushes him, holding a pitchfork she found near the crops. She tries to stab Terminus in the ankle but it does little to nothing. She then smacks his pede repeatedly with the pitchfork, demanding he let Falco go while screaming profanities and insults.

Terminus: I assume she's with you.

Falco, surprised he can talk: Uhhhhhhhhhhh

Terminus is just tired and he sits down before grabbing Gabi looking the two of them in the eye. He demands to know what they were doing trying to steal his crops. Falco tries to lie, says they were hungry and they ran away from home. Terminus doesn't buy that completely as he brings up the insults thrown his way, stating that he's heard them from humans a million times on the mainland. Falco tries to come up with another excuse, but Gabi makes things worse by screaming more insults at him, and Terminus puts two and two together and realizes they were the Marleyan prisoners that snuck aboard the Jackhammer. Terminus is taken off guard at how young they were, not remembering it being brought up in conversation.

Falco asks fearfully if Terminus was going to kill them. And Terminus states that he doesn't kill before setting them down. Gabi calls him a liar and Terminus can't help but be annoyed with this human. He knows she's brainwashed, but c'mon! He just let them go! Falco asks if he was going to turn them in, and Terminus does think it over.

He knows things are hostile on the island right now, and that there would be a few people wanting to kill two people from Marley, regardless if they were children. He's been in prison himself. It's not fun. But he can't have two trained soldiers running around trying to kill people, especially Gabi.

So he gives them an ultimatum: they could stay with him and help him out with agricultural stuff. He was considered a neutral party; no one would suspect they were with him. In return, they would be protected and fed. Gabi immediately says no to the idea while Falco is insisting that she do it. Gabi shouts at Falco, calling him a traitor, but Terminus speaks up again, reminding her that he can just turn them over if they say no to his deal. Falco reminds her that the two of them need to survive and get back home. Gabi is forced to reconsider and decides to cooperate for now until she can find a means of escaping.

Terminus grabs his cane and gestures for them to pick up their fruit before following him. Falco scrambles to grab what he can and quickly follows while Gabi reluctantly follows behind Falco, holding the pitchfork in her hands.

Some notes:

-So Terminus makes Falco and Gabi work, especially since he thinks it's good to have smaller hands. Falco excels while Gabi's face is in the dirt. She keeps screwing up.

-Falco starts talking with Terminus and confesses that he's surprised to meet a talking titan, and one that was old. Falco realizes his mistake but Terminus can't help but chuckle. Terminus tells Falco that he's been old for a long time.

-Falco and Terminus talk a lot. Terminus talks a lot about some of the plants that have been considered extinct while Falco is excited learning history about the world.

-Gabi gets frustrated and jealous really fast. Falco was falling for the words of this titan. This titan was trying to convert Falco and get him to join this island of devils. Gabi confronts Falco about it, but Falco can't help but be mad at her. Terminus was protecting them for now. And he thought that she considered him a bad friend. Why should she care how he spends his time?

-Gabi's hurt by this and Terminus does notice, deciding ask what's wrong and give her advice. Gabi initially refuses, but Terminus speaks from his own experience with Megatron (without saying his name) and how the two aren't on speaking terms, and Gabi does listen, surprised that a titan would have such...complex problems.

-Megatron asks Wheeljack to bring Terminus to the neutral ship as signs of the chaos persist. Wheeljack goes to grab him, and Terminus states that's he's bringing Gabi and Falco. Wheeljack is a little suspicious at their nervous expressions, but doesn't question it as he brings all three to the neutral ship. Gabi and Falco are shocked at the sight of humans there (The Restorationists, Erwin practicing with his new arm, Kenny), Megatron makes himself known to talk to Wheeljack, but his mind screeches to a halt when he spots Falco and Gabi hiding behind Terminus in fear of him.

-And Megatron can't help but start laughing at the absurdity of it all.

(Setup needed to happen first, but Gabi and Falco will find out in the next ask, or a few moments, depending on the time frame you're looking at)

[chosaraki]

Poison Flower, Heart of Calculation.

—————————————————————————

Charles Choi x R.femele.

—————————————————————————

Y/N inspired by shinobu Kocho.

—————————————————————————

Charles Choi, 23 years old. Before founding the empire.

Y/n, 22 years old. Assistant scientist in a private neurogenetics laboratory.

Year: Early 2000s. Location: Seoul, South Korea.

⸻

The sound of fine rain against the glass reinforced the silence at the top of the roof, where the aroma of lavender discreetly competed with the smell of old paper and heated iron.

Charles Choi was leaning over the office bench, analyzing images of neuroplasticity in genetically altered children. The light of the lamp drew hard shadows on his face. His eyes, sharp and cold like scalpels, didn't blink.

Behind him, standing on the glass balcony, y/n watched the wet city, with his hands crossed on his back and a smile too soft to be completely innocent.

- "Will you keep ignoring my presence, Charles?" - she asked, with a melodious and slightly sarcastic voice.

He didn't turn around. I was still focused on the screen.

- "I'm thinking."

- "You always are. But thinking too much steals heat from the blood... and from the instincts." - she commented, turning lightly, her dark hair dancing in the light air of the late afternoon.

He finally turned around, slowly, like an animal that doesn't need to hurry.

- "And what do you propose? That I listen to my instincts like the common men I despise?"

She walked up to him, her bare feet almost floating on the dark floor. He stopped next to the chair, leaned over and breathed softly in his ear:

- "No. I propose that you listen to me."

Charles raised his eyes. For an instant, that face - always impenetrable - seemed to falter.

She smiled, sweet as honey... but there was poison there.

- "You want to create a new humanity, Charles. But he can't even handle his own."

He leaned back on the chair, arms crossed, eyes half-closed.

- "You know me too well. This can be a problem."

She knelt before him, gently, and held his cold hands with hers - hot and thin.

- "Or a solution."

——————

Flashback: The day they met

He saw her for the first time in the clinical laboratory of a company financed by him. She wore a white coat, gloves and a mask - still, her eyes smiled.

Charles noticed that she had discreetly corrected the errors in the data of the senior assistants - without complaining, without showing off.

She didn't approach him. He's the one who approached her. For the first time in years, he felt curious about a human being.

- "How much is your IQ?" - he asked directly, without greetings.

- "Enough to hide it from men like you." - she replied without looking up from the microscope.

He smiled. A rare smile. And dangerous.

——————

-Back to the present

That night, in the office illuminated only by books and lightning, Charles held y/n by the waist and pulled her to his lap. It was a gesture he only made with her. With the rest of the world, he wore gloves.

- "Don't you think you're playing with fire, y/n?"

She traced the contour of his jaw with her finger:

- "I think fire is all you need. You're made of calculation, Charles. I'm made of poison. What a beautiful balance."

He kissed her slowly, without forced passion - but with conscious possession. Like someone who engraves a name in marble.

——————

They never said "I love you".

Charles didn't need it. y/n didn't believe those words.

But every night, he came back to her.

And every morning, she calmly put the right medicine in his tea, without him noticing.

Sleeping pill. To think less. To dream about her, maybe.

One day, she would say:

"You can try to build the perfect human being, Charles.

But it will be the most imperfect of all... if you lose me."

He never answered. But that night, he turned off his cell phone, locked the servers... and fell asleep with his face between her hair.

—————————————————————————

Delicate, intelligent, ironic and enigmatic. While he dominates the world with a calculating mind, she is the only one capable of touching him emotionally, balancing poison with sweetness. They understand each other without words, live between cold kisses and silences full of tension. She provokes him, challenges him, calms him down. And even without saying "I love you", she is the only weakness he would never admit to having.

—————————————————————————

[ariel-seagull-wings]

IN DEFENSE OF THE ALIEN DESIGNS IN STRANGE WORLD

@themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @tamisdava2 @minimumheadroom @thealmightyemprex @amalthea9 @angelixgutz @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @softlytowardthesun @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales

So, I read on-line some comentaries saying that it was hard to connect to the titular Strange World because of how out of this world the alien creatures were.

Their designs were considered too strange, to the point of being considered scary by audiences, who expected those creatures to be intimidating monsters, rather than the neutral, if simpathetic beings they were portrayed as.

This characterization apparently didn't correspond to what is expected from their appearance.

And I started to investigate in my memory: why this disconect happened?

Why it was more easy to imagine those beings as villanous monsters, rather than the simple living beings they actually were portrayed as?

So, when it comes to other worldly creatures written in fantasy and science fiction works, since we are humans, it has historically been more easy to connect to alien fictional creatures that are closer to humans, or at least other mammals.

The more distant they looked from humans in appearance, usually closer to reptiles or insects, the more likely they were to be presented as villanous monsters that must be eliminated by the heroes.

In fantasy you have the usual conflicts between heroic and appealing humans, elves, dwarves and halflings against the villanous and grotesque orcs, goblins and trolls.

And in sci fi, the more sympathetic aliens are the ones that look close to humans, while the more far from humans that alien is, the more likely is that they will be the treat to be fought.

In the Lindsay Ellis video "Designing the Other", she brings up the important point on the emphasis on eyes to make audiences form a connection with an alien character.

When they have big, expressive humanoid eyes, they are more likely to win the audience's simpathy:

When their eyes are more insect like, or non existent, then they become mysterious, threatening monsters:

Jack Saint's video "Avatar: Dances with White Saviours" comments that the presentation of the planet Pandora and the native Na'Vi as conventionally beautifull is used as the main argument to make audiences simpathize with it and support its message of echological preservation

While less mainstream literary sci fi would present the message that even the non beautiful, even violent ecossystems and creatures are important for the balance of the enviroment and have the right to be preserved.

And then there is Strange World

Strange World presents a story where a team goes trough the subterranean to save the plant that is their source of eletricity from creatures that they perceive as an agricultural plague.

The creatures follow the design pattern that we usually associate with monstrous, villanous aliens: far away from humans or other mammals, closer to insects, sea creatures and abstract cells.

We look at their appearance, and feel fear, treating them like abominations who would destroy us.

And the narrative knows that. Is an important discussion in the narrative.

When Jaegger joins the journey with the team, Ethan tries to show him and Searcher the card game Primordial Base, which is about finding peacefull solutions to live in harmony with the enviroment surrounding you, which includes the creatures you consider threatening eldritch abominations.

At first, Jaegger and Searcher fail to understand what Ethan says.

Then, they learn what his words means when they see that the supposed plague that they come to destroy was actually an imune system working to heal the living heart of their world, from Pando, the plant that for years they tought was beneficial.

The saviours of their lives are the beings that they believed to be monsters.

Just because something is not what we perceive as beautiful, doesn't mean its evil.

That is the message that the characters had to learn to be alive.

And by extension, us, as the audience, had to examine our decades of biases on who is good, and who is bad, in the proccess.

Nature is neither good, nor bad. It doesn’t care about us.

It just is. That is enough reason that it needs to be respected and preserved.

[al-hekima-madara-blog]

Yin Yang Generality (Part 1/2)

My goal was initially to talk about the Yin/Yang concept in Naruto, but I realise I have first to explain a little bit what I mean by that so we're all in the same page. kudos to @shisui-uchiha-rp for inspiring me this double post.

Disclaimer : Usually people reading me are quite smart but who knows some people don't get use to my style. There is no meliorative or derogative values behind Yin/Yang or Female/masculine if you feel that one is better than the other. IT'S ON YOU. The author is not your mum, not your therapist, not your teddy bear to vent upon. If you don't feel comfortable and triggered here are my solutions : move on from my post, unfollow, or even block. But if you're high IQ, open minded, not self-centred or just generally curious and well-behaved then welcome and keep reading.

The duality is probably one of the oldest concept in metaphysic. It's presented in many cosmologies to explain the origin of the world. After the Unicity or primordial chaos comes the duality of opposite forces: Positive/Negative Light/Darkness, Up/Down, Heaven/Earth. A bit like the cells division in biology. You don't go from 1 to 8. You go first 1 splitting in 2 splitting in 4 splitting in 8... So duality is the matrice of any system. It's the fundamental for the law of nature, the balance in the universe and its complex beauty. It's not Yin against Yang, or Yin>Yang or Yang>Ying. It's about how Yin and Yang balance each other to create stability, order and peace.

What's Yang?

I like to represent it as a centrifugal force. A cyclonic energy expanding outside of itself. And by expanding , it takes place and when you take place, it grows. You create motions and frictions that create disruption and may lead to violence. Going outside can also means transcending an initial state. Looking for answer outside of oneself. Exploration of the unknown. To pierce and penetrate others. You've probably heard that sky crappers or obelisks are sometimes referred as phallic symbol, it's due to their shape that represent the will to project power vertically out and above others. Being the number one. The process of individuation, ego, independence, but in positive way, being able to assert one's will and not fearing judgement.

Yang is often associated with light because it's also acting in the open, unmasked, direct and loud language, explosive presence, rational.

An other thing coming to my mind, Yang energy is like an arrow or a missile going straight to the point.

In the negative, it can also being associate with escapism, distance, scattering when the ambition goes to far, separation, division, detachment, dryness. Ultraviolence, megalomania, destruction.

What's Yin?

The opposite is the centripetal force. Think about a spinning vortex, a black hole. Or just water whirling in your sink. The centripetal motion brings both the idea of cycle and gravity and when you extend the move to its maximum, the centre reaches immobility. And if you go even further you have high pressure exerts on a small spot.

In nature, do you know what's happened when carbon is submit to an extreme pressure in the depth of Earth's mantle? It crystallises into a diamond. And the diamond's attribute, except its beauty, has the highest hardness and thermal conductivity of any natural material. It's indestructible. It facilitates vibration. It's solid!

Hence why someone known for an extreme mastery of Yin energy is said to be intense. Because the spiritual core of this person is so strong, that the mere presence into a room is enough to create "gravity" toward them. It doesn't matter if the person is attractive or not, good or mean. Yet they have this thing...this magnetic charisma that hypnotises people.

Yin energy refers to obscurity, what is hidden, invisible, cold, passive, receptive, and wet. Observe again nature : a DNA nucleus, the pit of a fruit, seed, or the star in a solar system is the most important part. It's the roots. the raw material from whom everything else proceed and rotate. It is extremely powerful because it contains all potentials.

Something you can't see always seem more powerful and menacing that something that you can observe and measure. Imagination is always infinite compare to reality and its limitation. For instance : there is a lion in front of you, you might have a tiny chance to survive if you run away. But if I tell you there is a lion...somewhere around you. It seems suddenly the animal is everywhere and you can't prepare yourself from something you can't see. The paranoia will imagine that the slightest wind is the beast ready to jump on your throat. But maybe it's not true, maybe the lion doesn't exist at all and yet in your imagination it was very real!

Contrary to Yang which is direct and straight. Yin is curvy, suggestive, indirect, like a fog, slow like a sugar soaked by water. We can call it the boiling frog method. You slowly raise the temperature so nobody notice. When it starts to be too hot it's too late, the frog has been weakened for hours and don't have the strength anymore to escape the trap. In a Yang manner, if it has been directly from room temperature to 100°C, it would have jumped out immediately.

In negative a bad Yin can create obsession, brooding over and over the same thing. A sensation of inertia, mental instability, self-destruction. Implosion when the core is falling into itself due to too much external pressure or internal fragility. Narcissism and not being able to see the bigger picture outside of oneself. Also manipulation, lies, victimhood mentality, passivity to act, delusion.

Yin/Yang in the human species?

From a simple observation of anatomy it's quite obvious who's Yin and who's Yang.

Men are generally taller than women, broader shoulders and rib cage which aloud them to have a deeper and louder voice. the muscle mass is also higher with less body fat. The sexual organ is external and I don't need to go in detail on how it erects and projects to accomplish its mission... Also the limbs and the hips are straight. the pelvis is narrow, brow bone more proeminent.

Women in contrary are in general smaller than men. With a tendency to keep more fat in the lower part, than muscle. narrow shoulder, narrow torso, wider hips and generally curvier limbs : hips, breasts, rounded face, brighter skin, bigger eyes. And of course the sexual organ is internal and everything about pregnancy is hidden inside the darkness of the womb.

In term of character There is a saying that : Men kill you, Women drive you crazy.

Take in a positive light, Men can build new worlds with their hands, and women can help to civilise and heal the world. Would you live in a high tech city where people behave like cavemen? and in reverse would you be with kind and compassionate people in the wild with no protection, no home, no technology, in open air?

A lot of psychology studies has shown that from childhood, girls have a tendency for emotional connexion (networking, relationship) while boys are interested by things (how to built, how to work, how to perform)

But does it mean that a man is 100% yang and a woman 100% yin? No it's absurd. I think you kind of notice I tend to have a yang way of expressing myself. I don't really care if my posts hurt someone's feeling. I don't care about trigger warning, I don't care about politically correctness, I don't write to protect harmony among the group but to express what is in my mind, now. but does it nullify my womanhood card? Does that make me a man? Absolutely not, I just have my own and unique temperament and everyone is different. Yet I'm still deeply Yin. And if we observe humanity as a group, it's obvious that the most enchanting embodiment of Yin energy are Women and the most magnificent embodiment of Yang energy are Men.

Yin/Yang in other aspects

I like this term better than female/masculine because it's less restrictive than just humans. It can apply to many aspect of life

A student is yin when he receive knowledge from his teacher in a yang position.

The same teacher is yin when he's under the authority of the university director yang.

In the military field a samurai has a yang culture while shinobis by acting in shadow and using deception way have a yin way of fighting.

The soul is yin, the body is yang

Moon reflect the sunlight (yin), the sun is the source of light (yang)

A mother is yang toward her children (yin)

In a production the famous actress is yang while producers, and staff are yin (they work in the back sometimes no one know their face or their name). but in the same production who has the actual power? The production pouring the money and writing the script? the famous actress that attract people due to her popularity? The success of the whole film is a mix of both energy.

In the end Yin/Yang both are important and both are complementary. Yin can't live independently from Yang and Yang can't survive without Yin. Light produce shadow and shadow is enhanced by light. You can't appreciate shadow without light and you can't see the beauty of light without shadow.

Part 2 : Yin/Yang in Naruto, the case of Madara and Hashirama

[mindhealing]

Healing Begins From Within!

Are you at a point in your life where and when you truly wish for healing, divine healing without medication? Are you tired of taking medications that don't work for you? Do you not want to go through surgery but you desire healing desperately? and are you just seeking for an alternative source of healing to cure you of your disease, ill health and malady? Then Healing from within is the answer you desperately need.

For starters you have to be ready to find the answers to the question - why did this happen to me in the first place? What am I missing? What is the inherent lesson that I need or have to learn? What am I doing mentally and emotionally that is causing my disease or malady? What do I need to do differently? When you are truly ready for the answers to these questions then the path opens up for you and you are shown the way to recovery and healing.

You must be true to yourself and ready to find this path and get the answers you seek and need, be ready to take the responsibility of healing yourself while opening yourself to help from the divinity within you. You can't make it the duty of another to open the way for you because the law of life requires responsibility for every action, every cause within you, knowingly or unknowingly, consciously or unconsciously.

When you are truly ready and want to do whatever it requires or takes to find a solution, you cannot be in the state of consciousness or mind that caused the problem in this first place. The negative state of consciousness creating negative mindset of thoughts and emotions that activated increased levels of stress hormones that have flooded your body and the disease or malady is the body's way of bringing this to your attention and telling you that you are way out of balance. That you need to find balance again or else the stress hormones will continue to disrupt the body's Immune System and Nervous System disrupting the normal functions of the body via it's network of cells, tissues, organs and the entire system starts to shut down hence the ill health and eventually chronic malady.

So for healing to start, you have to back out of or come out of the negativity, that you have been in and that has taken you to the abysmal depth of the mind, creating the condition and now you come back to your normal state of consciousness and mind which is positivity, centered around joy and gratitude and reveling in the joy of who and what you are - a Being of pure Light and Love.

Life will always throw issues, challenges, problems and situations at us and when we don't learn the proper way to handle them, they can drive us crazy, insane and almost out of our minds with worry, stress, anxiety, tension, self doubt and a host of negative emotions that starts shutting the body down. So you have to deliberately and intentionally close your mind and sight to it while you connect to the divinity within you which is always ready to help you sort out whatever life throws at you.

This essence, this power is within you waiting for the new state of mind of calm, detachment, gratitude and peace that you need to find answers. This new state helps you step outside the box and view things in a new light at 360 degrees - the whole or full picture whereas by yourself you can only see up to your nose which is about 90 to 180 degree viewpoint.

Now you can see how you have brought on the condition, for those who had escalation from mild to chronic, you see it played out and for those with severe conditions you also get to see the whole picture as you are now connected to the divinity within yourself which will not only show you the truth of your condition but simple ways of getting out of it because it has the answers.

But remember, whatever path you wish to take to find true healing in your life, you must begin with gratitude for the gift of live, love for all life and creation because life is a gift and it is a joy to behold. Again no matter what life throws at you, you can overcome provided you believe and trust in the divinity within you and in your ability to conquer all problems and conquer yourself.

You also need the faith in the healing already before you see evidence of it in the physical world. The healing already takes place within you before your body starts to show it and this is as soon as you change from negativity, negative mindset, emotions and thoughts to positivity, positive mindset, emotions and thoughts. Then you see where you erred and make the appropriate corrections.

More to come!

[violetsandshrikes]

Debunking Wellness Trends: Seed Oils

One aspect of the growing wellness trends on social media is the idea that seed oils are poisoning the population and need to be avoided to reach better health/heal health conditions/conserve fertility/etc. They’re being called “the hateful eight”, and there’s a lot of people doing the #seedoilfree lifestyle. Seed oils are being blamed for headaches, low immunity, disrupted attention and thinking, diabetes, and more.

(Seed oils include canola, corn, cottonseed, grapeseed, rice bran, safflower, soy and sunflower oil)

Toxicity Claims

Current scientific evidence does NOT support claims that seed oils are “toxic”.

Now, if you begin to cut out foods such as fried foods (like fries) or packaged snacks, you may feel better. A lot of people are attributing this feeling to removing seed oils, but these foods are usually high in refined carbohydrates, sodium and sugar which is why they’re associated with more negative health outcomes.

Another fear is that the “toxicity” comes from production byproducts. Heat and solvents like hexane are used to extract oil from seeds, which apparently introduces chemical additives and unstable molecules, which then can turn polyunsaturated fats into harmful trans fats. Realistically, hexane is a bigger threat to the environment and workers in case of inhalation – trace amounts in the oil are still being studied, but so far there’s no concerning data. They’re also heated for short periods, and actually have fewer trans fats than products like milk or butter.

Omega-6

Additionally, omega-6 (found in nuts and seeds, and a dominant polyunsaturated fat in seed oils) is also not “toxic”. In fact, it’s been scientifically linked to lower cholesterol, lower blood sugar and reduced heart disease risk. The argument against omega-6 is that it’s responsible for chronic inflammation – omega-6 linoleic acid is converted into arachidonic acid in the body, which is a component of inflammatory compounds. Only 0.2% of linoleic acid we eat turns into arachidonic acid, and not all the compounds cause inflammation – arachidonic acid is a complex molecule, and it also has some anti-inflammatory effects. Linoleic acid is also an essential fatty acid that our body can’t make itself, and we use it to produce cell membranes and for skin health.

Another claim is that our omega-3: omega-6 ratio is out of balance, and that this is because our ancestors ate a much more balanced ratio than we do today. We DO eat more omega-6 fats than omega-3, but the claim that we eat 20 to 50x more is misinformation – it’s closer to 10:1. Instead of cutting omega-6, the better solution is to try and introduce more omega-3 fats into your diet.

Realistically, a lot of the online discourse about seed oils is misunderstanding scientific reports + deliberate fear-mongering. If you do have concerns about something in your diet causing health issues, seek advice from a trained medical professional who can give you evidence-based ideas and solutions to help you!

(Some articles to start if you want to know more on this topic 1 2 3)

[entailglobal]

Understanding Osteoporosis How Ibandronic Acid Helps Strengthen Bones

Osteoporosis is a silent yet progressive bone disease that affects millions of people worldwide, especially postmenopausal women and the elderly. It reduces bone density and quality, making bones fragile and prone to fractures. In India, where awareness about bone health is still growing, there has been a rising demand for effective osteoporosis treatments. Among the most trusted medications, Ibandronic Acid 150 mg tablets stand out as a reliable solution for improving bone strength and preventing fractures.

As a leading pharmaceutical company in India, Centurion Healthcare Pvt. Ltd. is committed to manufacturing high-quality medications that address critical health concerns like osteoporosis. Let’s explore what osteoporosis is, how Ibandronic Acid works, and why choosing a trusted Ibandronic acid 150 mg tablets manufacturer is crucial for better treatment outcomes.

What is Osteoporosis?

Osteoporosis literally means “porous bone.” In healthy bones, there is a balanced cycle of bone formation and bone resorption. However, with age or hormonal changes, bone resorption exceeds bone formation, leading to a decrease in bone mass and strength.

Common risk factors for osteoporosis include:

Aging

Hormonal changes (especially in postmenopausal women)

Nutritional deficiencies (low calcium and vitamin D intake)

Sedentary lifestyle

Genetic predisposition

Certain medications or medical conditions

Osteoporosis often progresses silently, showing no symptoms until a fracture occurs. Common fracture sites include the spine, hip, and wrist. Therefore, preventive care and timely treatment are essential.

How Ibandronic Acid Works for Osteoporosis

Ibandronic Acid belongs to a class of drugs known as bisphosphonates. It helps reduce bone loss by inhibiting the activity of osteoclasts—the cells responsible for bone breakdown. This action slows down the bone resorption process, maintaining a healthier bone density.

When taken in the correct dosage, such as Ibandronic Acid 150 mg tablets, it:

Reduces the risk of spine and hip fractures

Increases bone mineral density

Improves bone strength and durability

This makes it an effective therapy for postmenopausal osteoporosis and other bone density-related conditions.

Why Choose Ibandronic Acid 150 mg Tablets?

Ibandronic Acid is available in multiple dosages, but the 150 mg monthly oral tablet is preferred due to its convenience and proven efficacy. Instead of taking daily or weekly medications, patients only need a single tablet once a month, improving compliance and long-term treatment success.

Key benefits include:

Easy monthly dosage

Well-tolerated with fewer side effects

Clinically proven to reduce fracture risks

However, it is crucial to source this medication from a reliable Ibandronic acid 150 mg tablets manufacturer to ensure safety, quality, and efficacy.

Centurion Healthcare Pvt. Ltd. – Trusted Partner in Bone Health

Centurion Healthcare Pvt. Ltd. is one of the top pharma manufacturing companies in India, known for its world-class facilities and commitment to quality. As a reputed Ibandronic acid 150 mg tablets exporter and supplier, the company ensures strict adherence to international quality standards.

Being a part of the best pharmaceutical industry in India, Centurion Healthcare provides healthcare professionals and patients with affordable yet effective osteoporosis medications.

Why Centurion Healthcare Stands Out

WHO-GMP-certified manufacturing units

Stringent quality control processes

Compliance with global regulatory standards

Wide distribution network in India and abroad

This makes Centurion Healthcare not just a medicine manufacturing company in India but also a trusted partner in improving healthcare outcomes globally.

Indian Pharmaceutical Industry’s Role in Osteoporosis Treatment

The Indian pharmaceutical industry has emerged as a global leader in producing affordable and high-quality generic medicines. With a strong focus on innovation, research, and cost-effective manufacturing, pharma companies in India have been meeting the growing demand for osteoporosis drugs like Ibandronic Acid.

The country’s robust pharmaceutical ecosystem ensures that patients have access to safe and effective treatments. Top pharma companies in India like Centurion Healthcare are actively contributing to the prevention and management of chronic conditions like osteoporosis.

Importance of Choosing the Right Pharmaceutical Company

When it comes to treating conditions like osteoporosis, the choice of medication supplier is critical. A leading pharmaceutical company in India like Centurion Healthcare not only ensures the availability of Ibandronic Acid 150 mg tablets but also guarantees high-quality standards backed by regulatory approvals.

Patients and healthcare providers must look for:

Certified manufacturers

Transparent sourcing and production processes

Global export capabilities

Reputation among healthcare professionals

This is why Centurion Healthcare is recognized among the top pharma companies in India for its dedication to healthcare excellence.

Why Osteoporosis Awareness is Essential

Despite being common, osteoporosis often goes undiagnosed until it causes serious complications. Regular bone health check-ups, proper nutrition, exercise, and timely medication can significantly reduce the risk of fractures. Healthcare professionals must educate patients about the importance of bone health and ensure the availability of effective drugs like Ibandronic Acid 150 mg tablets.

The collaboration between doctors, patients, and the best pharmaceutical industry in India ensures better prevention and management strategies for osteoporosis.

Centurion Healthcare – Exporting Quality Globally

As a reputed Ibandronic acid 150 mg tablets exporter and supplier, Centurion Healthcare Pvt. Ltd. caters to both domestic and international markets. With a strong presence in multiple countries, the company contributes to improving global bone health.

Its state-of-the-art manufacturing facilities and stringent quality assurance protocols make it one of the top pharma manufacturing companies in India for osteoporosis medication.

Final Thoughts

Osteoporosis is a growing health concern, but with the right preventive measures and effective treatments like Ibandronic Acid 150 mg tablets, it is possible to maintain strong and healthy bones. Choosing a reliable medicine manufacturing company in India, such as Centurion Healthcare Pvt. Ltd., ensures access to high-quality medications that improve patient outcomes.

The Indian pharmaceutical industry continues to play a crucial role in making advanced osteoporosis treatments affordable and accessible worldwide. By partnering with a leading pharmaceutical company in India, patients and healthcare providers can trust the quality, efficacy, and safety of the medications they use.

If you’re looking for a trusted Ibandronic acid 150 mg tablets manufacturer or an experienced Ibandronic acid 150 mg tablets exporter and supplier, Centurion Healthcare Pvt. Ltd. is your ideal partner. As one of the top pharma companies in India, we are committed to strengthening bone health and enhancing the quality of life for patients across the globe.

Looking for reliable osteoporosis treatment solutions?

Partner with Centurion Healthcare Pvt. Ltd., the trusted name in the Indian pharmaceutical industry for high-quality Ibandronic acid 150 mg tablets.

[ekman]

Le mensonge a cessé d’être un vice moral et intellectuel pour devenir un système de gouvernement. C’est un progrès considérable pour les mondialistes, car il a pour première vertu de faire disparaître toute notion d’éthique dans les sociétés dites “avancées”. Comment le mensonge généralisé – statistique, médiatique, étatique – est-il parvenu à effacer non une quelconque vérité, notion fumeuse et très discutable, mais plus radicalement, à escamoter la réalité toute entière ?

Première mise au point, indispensable : qu’est-ce que la réalité aujourd’hui ? Est-elle seulement définissable ? Fait vérifié : la réalité n’est plus le produit de l’observation individuelle, mais celui du discours collectif. D’où l’importance du contrôle permanent et méticuleux des médias classiques, à l’exclusion (très provisoire) des canaux présents sur Internet. Le discours collectif donc, est souvent résumé par l’appellation anglicisante de “narratif”. Les narratifs qui se succèdent, s’enchainent et parfois se chevauchent, ont pour fonction d’installer un climat dans l’opinion publique – euphorisant, anxyogène, consensuel, solidaire, etc. Les problèmes sont créés, les réactions contrôlées, les réflexions orientées, les solutions suggérées. Cela fait partie de l’ingénierie du “soft power”, concept  directement sorti de l’esprit des publicitaires américains... et c’est ainsi que la réalité devient une vérité, celle de “On” qui prospère ainsi sous mille visages. C’est le consensus majoritaire : Monsieur Moyen et Madame Tout-le-Monde, qui ont du bon sens, adorent tout ce qui est très équilibré, donc central, et ne supportent pas les à-coups suggérés par les opinions radicales, trop réactives. L’affect collectif balance du paradis sucré des bons sentiments à l’entêtant pizzicato des situations stressantes. Des Jeux Olympiques à la variole du singe, si vous me suivez.

La force du discours collectif ne tient pas au fait qu’il soit collectif, c’est à dire reçu et relayé par la masse, mais plus par sa capacité de diffusion et de répétition. Ici aussi, on est dans la pure technique publicitaire. On comprend mieux la prise en charge, par l’État, de la santé financière des organes de Presse qui, dès lors, lui sont durablement redevables. Je dis bien “l’État” et non le “gouvernement”, ce qui souligne que le premier est l’expression directe du système qui désormais le contrôle, alors que le second n’a qu’un rôle illustratif, cosmétique.

Que reste-t-il alors de l’observation individuelle ? Eh bien elle ne puise sa valeur que dans celle des individus eux-mêmes. Celui qui ne veut pas voir ne verra pas, ni n’entendra, ni ne réfléchira. Celui qui constate que ce qu’il voit n’est pas ce qu’on lui raconte – pour peu qu’il ait un peu d’instruction et de courage – se sentira tenu de dire et de contredire, surtout. Très vite il deviendra l’emmerdeur, le facho, le complotiste, le parano... autant d’insultes qui deviendront des médailles. Celui qui s’isole dans sa bulle afin d’échapper au bruit ambiant, celui qui a renoncé au succès d’apparence, à l’audience, aux soutiens et aux relais, celui-là souffrira de la solitude et de l’incompréhension. Mais si un seul concitoyen peut, au final, être convaincu d’ouvrir les yeux, alors la journée se soldera par une victoire de plus puisque le discours collectif comptera une paire d’oreilles en moins.

J.-M. M.

[purehealthpath]

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