#Cellular Reprogramming

[airises]

What are induced pluripotent stem cells, and how are they different from embryonic stem cells?

What are induced pluripotent stem cells (iPSCs)? Reprogrammed adult cells: iPSCs are created in the lab by taking adult cells (often skin or blood cells) and genetically reprogramming them back to an immature, embryo-like state. Pluripotency: Like embryonic stem cells, iPSCs are pluripotent. This means they have the exceptional potential to develop into almost any type of cell in the body. Key…

[theambitiouswoman]

While I’m on the subject, I want you guys to learn this…

Did you know that how you talk to yourself alters your DNA?

The way you speak to yourself, your thoughts, emotions and inner dialogue—impacts your DNA through epigenetics. Negative self talk raises cortisol, triggering genes linked to inflammation, aging and diseases. Conversely, positive self talk activates genes for healing, resilience and longevity. Chronic stress and emotional trauma can alter DNA expression and even be passed down to future generations.

This also applies to what you hear. Negative words, insults and toxic conversations increase cortisol, rewiring neural pathways to make stress a default state. Constant exposure to negativity, whether through people or media, can impact gene expression.

Just how stress harms DNA, gratitude, affirmations and meditation can rewire it positively. These practices lower stress, trigger DNA repair, and activate genes for immunity and anti aging. Consciously shifting self talk can change your biology. "It is not that easy!" Yes, it is.

Research suggests binaural beats and solfeggio frequencies influence brainwaves, promoting focus and emotional balance. Mantras, prayers, affirmations can impact cellular structures, proving sound vibrations affect genes.

How long does this take, you ask?

Immediate (Minutes to Days): A single thought can raise or lower cortisol almost instantly.

Short Term (Weeks to Months): 6–8 weeks of daily gratitude, mindfulness, or affirmations can shift gene expression.

Long Term (Months to Years): Consistent mental reprogramming strengthens immunity, reduces disease risk, and slows aging.

Your thoughts shape your body at a genetic level so choose them wisely.

[fairyminnie444]

Why Does Physical Change Literally Happen?

{+1 explanation for the logical part of the brain}

“Will I just be pretending to myself?” “What is the logic in changing my current unwanted body for what I want to be and how others see me and this change?”

Some questions that go through our heads when we talk about manifesting the desired appearance, and this is normal. Let's demystify this and be absolutely sure to manifest more easily and quickly.

First no, you are not “faking it to yourself.” What you are doing is a process of mental self-reprogramming that uses the power of the mind to create a new internal reality, which will inevitably be reflected on the outside.

1. The Mind Doesn’t Distinguish Between Reality and Imagination

When you intensely imagine your desired body, your brain acts as if it were already true. It begins sending signals to your body to align your physiology with this new vision. This isn’t “faking it,” it’s literally reprogramming your system.

2. How Does Physical Change Literally Happen?

Your body is run by your brain. Everything it does—from regenerating cells to changing its structure—responds to instructions that you, consciously or not, send it. When you see yourself as the version of yourself you want to be, you are literally reprogramming your brain to create that physical change.

Examples in Science and Biology:

• Epigenetics: Your thoughts influence which genes are “turned on” or “turned off.” If you internally assume the identity of a person with the desired body, your body begins to align with that identity.

• Neuroplasticity: The brain reorganizes itself based on the beliefs you hold. It can change hormonal patterns, metabolic patterns, and even cellular regeneration to adapt to what you believe to be true.

3. Why Does Physical-Touchable Reality Change?

• Assumed Identity: When you believe that you already have the desired appearance, the body begins to respond with real physiological changes. For example, a mental model of “I am thin” can change hunger patterns and metabolism, while “I am young” can stimulate collagen production.

• Instructions to the Subconscious: The subconscious controls automatic functions of the body, such as cell regeneration and fat distribution. It accepts everything you imagine with emotion as absolute truth.

4. How Others See You

People see you through the energy and confidence you exude. If you are aligned with the feeling that you are already who you want to be, others will automatically begin to treat and see you that way.

• They may not know “how” or “when” you changed, but they will notice that something is different. This is because your self-confidence and inner congruence have a direct impact on social interactions.

5. You’re Not Pretending, You’re Choosing

When you decide that you are already the desired version of yourself, you’re not pretending, you’re taking on a new identity. This is a conscious exercise in creating the reality you want, and 3D has no choice but to reflect that decision.

6. Real-World Example to Make It More Concrete

1. People who underwent hypnosis believing they had real burns on their skin developed physical blisters—because their bodies responded to their minds.

2. Patients in placebo studies who “believed” they were taking a rejuvenation drug experienced real physical changes, such as improved skin and organs.

These are extreme examples, but they show that the mind instructs the physical body, and the body obeys. It’s not symbolic or “just in the imagination”—it’s a transformation that manifests itself in the tangible.

7. How to Make This Transformation Solid and Firm

To truly believe that your physical transformation is happening:

• Decide and Feel: “I already have this.” See your body as what you want, not what you “think it is.”

• Visualize Clearly: Imagine what it would be like to touch, see, and live with this body. Not just mentally, but as if it were already a reality.

• Believe in Inner Logic: Whatever your mind accepts as truth, your body will do. If you have assumed this new identity, your body has no choice but to follow.

It’s not pretending, nor is it wishful thinking. It’s using the power of your mind to literally transform your body into something physical and real.

[catboybiologist]

Do you see a future where we can give a trans person a shot and have their body start making the correct sex hormones (eg testes change to make E, or ovaries change to make T)? How far off? What things need to be accomplished to achieve it, and what tools do we already have?

Disclaimer that none of this is gonna be all that scientifically robust, the terms used are gonna be descriptive rather than technical, and that I'm just woke up and these are the ravings of a woman gone mad.

A single shot is ambitious, but I could see a course of several months or a couple years that, after those several months, lasts a lifetime.

How far off? I mean, wildly dependent on funding and focus. Unfortunately, nothing related to trans healthcare is gonna see a serious push I would think. With an actual, serious push, I would give it a few decades of research (if that)(this is blisteringly fast btw) until it's punted over to the FDA. At that point it's outside of my knowledge to know how far things would move forward.

But honestly, it's part politics, part luck of the draw on what people research and push forward. Might happen in our lifetime, but don't hold your breath. Research is grindingly slow.

This is mostly based around the possibility of inducing transdifferentiation. Tldr:

-stem cells are exciting bc they can become any cell type. They haven't "locked in" their cell fate yet.

-most research on cellular differentiation centers around deprogrammed differentiated cells, reverting them to stem cells, and then reprogramming them into something else. The deprogramming is actually well studied (shoutout Yamanaka factors) but I don't see something like this reaching a medicinal, in vivo use soon.

-in extremely rare and induced cases, however, you can force a fully differentiated cell type to become another fully differentiated cell type *without* that intermediate. This is likely way easier to pull off in vivo, even though the initial molecular triggers are much, much rarer and more difficult to study.

Which brings us to the two theoretical dots that we can use here: prostatic metioplasias as a result of testosterone (for transmascs) and the role of DMRT1 for transfemmes.

Broad tldr of each of these points:

-there was a study that studied vaginal lining of transmascs who had been on T for several years and gotten hysterectomies. They found some prostate tissue intercalating the vagina.

-removal of a particular gene (DMRT1) allowed testes to slowly become ovarian tissue and produce estrogens. This gene is responsible for maintaining testes cell fate- keeping the lock, locked.

Neither of these provides a direct basis for actual medication. They show avenues for what will work, however. What's necessary here is to understand the upstream signals that control the expression of genes like DMRT1, which can then be exploited to force expression or stop expression in vivo, in a human.

Basically, the way transdifferentiation would work here is blasting the appropriate cells with enough of these signals, over enough time to ensure that everything actually undergoes TD, to reprogram everything you want to reprogram.

(yes, I know about the crispr transfemme who targeted DMRT1. No, I don't think that's real. I've posted about that before.)

You don't have to bother reading these, but here's the primary sources I'm talking about for anyone interested:

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

What happened to cause a temp to partially regenerate???? Also what’s a partial regeneration??

We're still waiting on the full incident report (and for the temp to regain the rest of their memories), but we can confirm that the partial regeneration was triggered by acute stress, sudden exposure to unfiltered telepathic archives, and a small unexplainable explosion.

What's a partial regeneration?

A full regeneration involves a complete cellular overhaul, triggered by fatal injury or severe systemic failure. The body floods with regenerative energy and rebuilds itself from the molecular level upwards.

A partial regeneration occurs when that process starts, but doesn't finish. This can happen if:

The perceived threat to the body turns out not to be fatal after all

The body detects a risk in completing the regeneration (e.g. unstable environment)

The regenerative systems misfire or are disrupted mid-process

Biologically, the cells begin reprogramming themselves, but the energy cascade is either interrupted or suppressed. Some tissue changes and some doesn't. This results in:

Temporary memory loss

Sudden appearance of new facial features (one eyebrow, half a nose, etc.)

Shifts in personality or taste

Pain, confusion, and a feeling best described as 'biological whiplash'

The body usually stabilises, but complications are common. We wish the temp a smooth recovery.

Related:

💬|✨4️⃣What are the four factors of regeneration?: How a regenerating Gallifreyan body might determine its next appearance.

💬|✨⚠️What counts as a safety hazard for regeneration?: Risk factors in regeneration.

💬|✨🦽Can disabilities persist through regenerations?: The nature of inherent and regeneration-specific disabilities.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features:⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: April 29, 2025

Reworked Character #13: Allen O'Neil

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, drug addiction, crime, and torture.

Real name: Alister Titus O’Neil Sr.

Esper title: Avatar of Peak Physicality, Cheating Death, and Assimilation

Aliases: Conqueror of the Staircase of Dead Bodies, Iron Cavalryman from Hell, Immortal Cacodemon, and Ghost Sergeant

Occupation: Sergeant of the Rebel Army, right-hand man of General Morden, Lance Corporal of the Marine Corps (formerly), and a high-ranking peacekeeping troop of the Regular Army (formerly)

Retirement plans: Open up an animal shelter and live the rest of his days in the countryside

Special skills: Armed and close quarters combat, crisis management, defensive tactics, and brainwashing

Esper abilities: He possesses superhuman strength, endurance, and stamina, demonstrated by his ability to effortlessly lift the main combat vehicles of the Rebel Army, withstand extreme physical stress, and carry the Jupiter King without its tracks without displaying any visible signs of exhaustion. His body is physically resilient to shotgun blasts and a single pineapple grenade or Stielhandgranate explosion. His body contains a silver-hued regenerative agent that rapidly repairs damaged cells and tissues, giving his blood a metallic grey sheen. When wrath consumes him, his skin erupts into a fiery crimson, radiating intense heat and morphing into a semi-scaly texture.

He possesses two unique, blubber-coated, kidney-shaped organs in his thighs, which are a pale pink streaked with bronze. These organs are connected to his esophagus by two trachea-like purplish-grey tubes. The kidney-shaped organs secrete a blood-streaked, sticky substance similar to intravascular and seminal fluids that gives birth to earwig-like pale brown creatures, approximately the length of a human arm. Each creature features bronze and crimson streaks, forest green antennae, and black centipede-like legs and forceps. The trachea-like tubes are lined with resilient, mucus-coated hair follicles, providing the creatures with a moderate layer of protection against blades and enhancing their ability to adhere to hosts.

These creatures serve as vectors for mental assimilation, allowing him to recruit individuals to General Morden’s cause. To achieve this, they inject neuroactive agents into a host's bloodstream by biting into a major vein and tightly latching onto their skin. Once established, the creatures transmit electrical signals to the brain, inducing brainwashing and instilling an unwavering sense of loyalty. This can only be reserved once the parasitic creature has been surgically removed, allowing the effects of these neuroactive agents to degrade slowly over a five-day period.

He's virtually immortal due to a biological self-resurrection process, which allows him to fully restore his psyche and physical body to optimal health. Upon death, his regenerative agents kick into overdrive, rapidly repairing minor and major wounds, replenishing energy in his blood, and revitalising his white blood cells to sustain their viability. His brain remains active, sending electrical impulses that stimulate cellular regeneration, tissue reorganisation, maintain blood circulation, reverse organ failure, and induce wakefulness. It can even correct genetic damage, reactivate dormant cellular functions through epigenetic reprogramming, reboot the immune system to eliminate pathogens and cancer cells, and restore cognitive function and memory. After each resurrection, his memories of his previous death are foggy, and his once-healed injuries leave lingering stiffness for a few days.

Hobbies: Whittling, extreme off-roading, frequenting pet shops, and hanging out with his family whenever he has the time to do so

Likes: Social justice, blowing stuff up, insulting his adversaries, and messing around with the Rebel Gigant

Dislikes: Being viewed as a simple-minded and ignorant assault captain, the Regular Army, insubordination, and orcas

Favourite food: Pompano en papillote and bread pudding with vanilla whiskey sauce

Favourite drink: Cognac

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Gender: Male

Age: 38 (in 2022), 44 (in 2028), 46 (in 2030), 48 (in 2032), 50 (in 2034), 57 (in 2041), 59 (in 2043), 60 (in 2044), and 63 (in 2047)

Blood type: B+

Weight: 254 lbs. (115 kg)

Design: He’s a 6’ 7” (200.66 cm) American mesomorph of Creole and Scottish descent with an inverted triangle build, rippling muscles, and sloping shoulders. He has honey-hued skin and striking asymmetrical eyes—amber on the right with a luxor gold pupil and mahogany on the left with a foggy white glaze. His face features subtle wrinkles, including forehead lines, frown lines, and nasolabial folds. Allen has slightly drooping pointed ears, skin that's somewhat taut against his spine, razor-sharp canines, a shaved head, and a full dark chocolate beard.

He has a tattoo on his left upper arm of a pygmy rattlesnake coiled around the base of a human skull with sparkling rubies embedded in the eye sockets. He has a few battle scars: one that starts from the centre of his right cheek to the side of his forehead, resembling a fiery comet flying upwards; three healed bullet wounds on his left deltoid; half of his left ring finger is missing; and a large, blotchy patch of scarred flesh on the right side of his abdomen.

His outfit consists of gunmetal grey wristbands, a burnt sienna armband displaying the Rebel Army insignia, and mud- and blood-stained laurel green army cargo pants tucked into spike-soled silver-white combat boots. He carries an old, cherished photograph of himself, his wife, their two children, and their two chestnut-fronted macaws securely tucked away in the right pocket of his army cargo pants. Allen wears a gold-buckled rifle green belt, complemented by a sheath for his Bowie knife and a gunmetal grey waist pack secured at the back, containing pipe bombs and a sprig of heather for good luck. He wears three black bandoliers, two forming an X-shape across his chest and one draped above his belt, holding ammunition for his M240 Bravo Machine Gun. He wears a burgundy cord necklace, showcasing a shark tooth as its centrepiece. The shark tooth is flanked by two canine teeth with three circular blue garnet beads positioned between each canine tooth.

During the Survival Island Occupation, he temporarily wore the same outfit that commanding officers wear in the Regular Army. He also donned a chin-length reddish-blonde wig with blunt cut bangs and soft waves.

He owns a personal Di-Cokka, twice the size of the original, its greenish-brown coat bearing battle scars—dented and scratched from a few bullet impacts. Besides transportation, he also uses it for storage, keeping portable ammo boxes and two extra weapons on hand: a M202 FLASH and a Mossberg 500 shotgun.

Super Devil form: He’s a 21’ 3” (647.7 cm) humanoid with an exaggerated musculature and smooth, rock hard rifle green skin. His head, marked by a pronounced underbite, has a canine-like appearance, with the skin tightly stretched over his skull. A wet gunmetal grey nose, reminiscent of a bear's, protrudes prominently, while his beard has grown into an unruly goatee that cascades down to the centre of his chest. He has twitching muscles, gleaming greenish-brown claws and talons, and six arms covered in decaying flesh and bulging veins, each ending in heavily scarred hands with only three fingers. He has the same eyes, ears, razor-sharp canines, and scars as the original, but his armpits and back are covered in coarse dark chocolate hair.

Two rows of stalagmite-like gilt-brass spikes run along his back, while two lengthy, glistening tentacles—each spanning the height of two adult males—protrude from the back of his deltoids. These tentacles boast a crimson hue and are adorned with mucus-coated laurel green feelers on their underside. Allen’s tail resembles that of a pygmy rattlesnake, while his waist is encircled by a bronze intestinal cord that passes through the bored temples of fifteen yellow-stained, shark-toothed human skulls. Each skull features either ruby or blue garnet eyes, arranged in an alternating pattern. His legs are feathered in a plumage that transitions from reddish-brown to burnt sienna, culminating in powerful silver-white ostrich feet.

Character summary: Allen is a proud and charismatic leader, renowned for his persistence in battle and unshakeable loyalty to those he holds dear, including his family, closest comrades, and General Morden. He passionately advocates against political corruption and systemic injustices, fearlessly standing up for what's right and recognizing it as his social responsibility to create a better world. He’s capable of compassion, but only extends his support, kindness, and sympathy to those he considers trustworthy friends and admires for their bravery and integrity. He can be somewhat forgetful, particularly when recalling complex instructions or distinguishing between appropriate and inappropriate times to use bladed weapons, such as when preparing food.

He derives great satisfaction from catching his foes off guard or disrupting their plans, gaining a strategic upper hand on the battlefield. He's ruthless and pragmatic, revelling in the suffering he inflicts on those who work for corrupt organisations and/or oppose General Morden. He relishes battling his enemies, particularly his arch-rivals, the Peregrine Falcons Squad and the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. His passion for frontline combat is why he chooses to remain a Sergeant, the highest rank that allows him to engage in daily battles. He displays subtle admiration for individuals who demonstrate impressive tactical expertise and skillful combat abilities.

He often rushes into battle with reckless abandon, yet occasionally takes a more measured and calculated approach. He frequently taunts his enemies, using psychological warfare to erode their resolve and sow seeds of self-doubt. He skillfully cultivates loyalty among Morden's followers by subtly undermining their critical thinking and independence, making them receptive to indoctrination. Through this manipulation, Allen implants new thoughts, reshapes attitudes, and alters values and beliefs to align with Morden's ideology. Occasionally, he spares new recruits from brainwashing if he detects genuine sympathy for Morden's cause or notices that they don't see the point in questioning the ideology and practices of the Rebel Army.

He strongly dislikes it when people underestimate his intelligence and make jokes about him having "stupid genes". When mocked for his lack of sophistication, he's quick to retaliate, scolding those who underestimate him, and will even resort to violence or intimidation if he feels provoked. Despite being a belligerent and ignorant individual, he can be surprisingly calm and composed during the heat of battle or when he isn't on the battlefield. He never fears his enemies due to a fear of being seen as a coward, but he will show prudent caution if there's a genuine reason to be concerned. He has always had a fondness for winter and working in snowy conditions, drawn to the cleanness of fresh snow and the challenge of battling through bitter cold, which he sees as a worthy obstacle to overcome during intense combat.

His phenomenal physicality and combat skills are matched only by the size of his ego. He frequently belittles those he doesn’t trust and makes crass, demoralising, and dehumanising remarks about his adversaries. While Allen’s superiority complex often gets the better of him, he’s a seasoned soldier who can endure more physical and mental punishment than his weaker comrades. However, he doesn’t view himself as superior to his family, close friends, most trusted comrades, General Morden, and the law. Besides his strength, stubbornness, and gusty courage, the only thing that keeps him alive is his devotion and unrelenting will to return home to his loving wife, Henrietta, and their children, Nancy and Allen Jr.

He deeply loves Henrietta and cherishes every moment with her, yet he can't help but find her intimidating due to her stern demeanour and piercing gaze. He loves Allen Jr. deeply, but their relationship is strained by his son's blunt criticism of his shortcomings and, more painfully, his alliance with the Rebel Army's sworn enemy. He recognizes that Allen Jr. views his actions as morally misguided, driven by an unwavering loyalty to General Morden. Additionally, he's aware that his son is troubled by his own superiority complex and impulsive decisions on the battlefield, which have repeatedly put his life at risk and led to past fatalities. Nevertheless, he does his best to support his son's military career and love life, while also respecting his capabilities as a fighter. He does notice that Allen Jr. doesn’t listen to him at times, which frustrates him. However, he chooses not to verbally address the issue, fearing it may further strain their already estranged relationship.

He shares a cordial relationship with General Morden, often bonding over drinks and swapping stories, especially after missions. Beneath Morden's tough exterior, he recognizes his struggles with alcoholism and the emotional toll of losing his family, and genuinely empathises with him. He looks up to him as a great leader due to his caring and respectful nature towards his soldiers, exceptional intelligence, and strong sense of justice. He vows to protect him at all costs, support the growth of his military strength, and ensure the success of his plans.

He harbours intense disdain for Abul Abbas, regarding him as a moronic nuisance and a poor excuse of a commanding officer. He shares the view of many Rebel soldiers and commanders that Abul is intolerable and unfit to serve their cause. Allen often mocks Abul's peculiar sense of smell, jokingly referring to it as "horny cognition" to annoy him. Despite Abul's incompetence, Allen O'Neil is genuinely surprised that he has managed to befriend General Morden, Sagan, and Logan. However, he refrains from complaining, deeming it pointless to waste his breath on someone he strongly hates.

He’s a good friend of Sagan, admiring her independence, resilience, and exceptional leadership abilities, which rival General Morden's in terms of tactical expertise and charisma. He treats her with the same respect he has for Morden, acknowledging her superior military rank and significant contributions to the Rebel Army's tactical prowess. He often goes out drinking with Sagan, assists her with her plans, helps implement her rigorous training programs for Rebel Army cadets, and playfully engages with her joking attitude.

He views Logan as somewhat infuriating and intimidating at times, yet treats him with equal respect alongside Sagan and Morden, recognizing his senior rank and crucial role in the Rebel Army's strategic planning and financial management. He admires Logan's easy-going attitude and willingness to offer him valuable advice on navigating more difficult tactical situations.

Backstory: Alister Titus O’Neil Sr. was born on November 17, 1984 in New Orleans, Louisiana, United States. He doesn’t remember his parents very well, as he didn’t spend much time with them, but he can recall his father being an Scottish-American chef and his Creole mother working as a construction worker. His parents instilled in him the importance of loyalty to loved ones and friends as well as the confidence to embrace his unique capabilities without shame. Tragically, at just 7 years old, his world was shattered when his mother was killed during a devastating robbery at a local convenience store. The loss proved too much for his father, who abandoned him, leaving him alone and frightened in a neighbourhood plagued by crime and bad influences.

Luckily for him, he was taken in by his uncle who, despite struggling with a fentanyl addiction and deep-seated feelings about systemic injustices, selflessly took him in. His uncle went above and beyond to raise him like the son he never had, teaching him essential school subjects and instilling in him a strong sense of social responsibility and courage to stand up against injustices. After his uncle's tragic death from a fentanyl overdose when Allen was just 13, he faced a harsh new reality and this pivotal event awakened his esper abilities. With no support system, he turned to a local gang for protection and began carrying blades for self-defence. As he gained more experience on the streets and honed his fighting skills, he gradually moved to firearms, progressively handling smaller weapons before moving on to larger ones. Following his revelation dream at 15, he dedicated himself to mastering his esper abilities.

At 16, Allen faced legal consequences for aggravated assault and burglary, leading to time in a juvenile detention centre. The Regular Army, recognizing his esper status, quickly intervened and offered guidance, aiming to mould him into a skilled soldier. The Regular Army offered him a stable home in a secure area of Scotland, aiming to provide a safer environment that would steer him away from a life of crime. With their therapeutic and parental support, he made a decision to turn his life around. Allen volunteered for social justice initiatives and animal welfare organisations to improve himself and give back to the community.

At 19, while working at an animal shelter, he met his future wife, Henrietta. A brief conversation about their future aspirations sparked a romance between them. As they went on multiple dates, their connection grew stronger. A year later, Allen proposed, and to his delight, she accepted. Soon after getting married, they welcomed their son, Allen Jr. Upon discovering a recruitment poster for the Regular Army, he felt a surge of purpose and a strong desire to fight for justice. This newfound passion prompted him to quit his old job and enlist in the Regular Army as a peacekeeping troop at the age of 22. After serving five years, he transitioned to the Marine Corps. Two days before his 30th birthday, he and Henrietta celebrated the birth of their daughter, Nancy. Their family grew again four years later with the adoption of two chestnut-fronted macaws, Shirley and Kingsley.

Allen's life took a dramatic turn when Donald Morden rescued him from a near-fatal confrontation with a notorious gang of terrorists and high-risk criminals, who had collaborated with pirates, in a volatile region of South Africa. Grateful for Morden's heroism, he offered his support and loyalty, forming a strong bond as a trusted friend and ally. A year later, following a successful mission against a dangerous criminal organisation bent on destabilising government authorities, Morden introduced Allen to Sagan and Logan. He formed strong bonds with Sagan and Logan, but their demanding schedules rarely allowed for downtime together.

He rose through the ranks to become a high-ranking peacekeeping troop in the Regular Army under Donald Morden's command, while also serving as a Lance Corporal in the Marine Corps. Renowned for his exceptional combat skills, toughness, and devotion to family, he was once known for his cool attitude. As Morden's most trusted soldier and the only esper under his command, he frequently received the most complex missions, which he executed with great success and enthusiasm. He always enjoyed fighting for Morden, just as he enjoyed unwinding with Henrietta, Nancy, and Allen Jr. after a tough day.

He played a crucial role in the Arms Deal Barrage, fighting as a soldier against the remnants of the Serapion Fellowship. Alongside fellow combatants, including Morden, Sagan, and Logan, he discovered the harsh reality of corruption within the Regular Army, a truth carefully concealed from the public. A small part of him yearned to defy them for their corruption, but Morden and Tequila cautioned against it, warning he'd land on their hit list. He faced off against 1st Lieutenant Wired in a fierce battle, alone and unsupported, yet he developed a hint of mutual respect for his opponent's tactical prowess and proficiency in grenades and armed combat.

After Morden defected from the Regular Army, Allen followed him out of loyalty and disappeared from public view for several years. During this period, Allen played a crucial role in building the Rebel Army's forces by brainwashing and training new recruits alongside Morden. He also contributed to the development of tactical plans with Logan and Morden and collaborated with Sagan on clandestine missions to raid weapon facilities and acquire advanced Tuatha Dé Danann technology.

When General Morden reemerged as the founding leader of the Rebel Army and launched his coup d'état, he stood by him, playing a pivotal role in the insurgency. Tasked with defending the supply warehouse at the summit of Käthehirt Valley, Allen single-handedly annihilated the troops brave enough to tackle the treacherous mountain. However, when Marco, Tarma, Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye ascended the mountain, they encountered Allen and were forced to engage him in battle. Gimlet and Red Eye managed to press onward, choosing to confront the Rebel Infantry instead of fighting their former comrade. After being burned alive and shot in the head for good measure, Allen was presumed dead.

Nevertheless, he would later be revived through his biological self-resurrection process and participate in the ambush on the Regular Army, Peregrine Falcons Squad, and S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. troops. Under Morden's command, he brutally tortured and executed many of Marco’s and Tarma's comrades and friends. He played a major role in Tarma's torture, verbally exploiting his emotional sensitivity and insecurities about his academic intelligence. He also carried out General Morden's order to sever Marco's left arm.

Allen resurfaced in a secret Rebel Army base hidden in the Siberian frozen tundra, where he once again aided Morden in his plans for global conquest, this time in alliance with the Pipovulaj. When Regular Army troops infiltrated the base, Allen attempted to eliminate them but was ultimately defeated by Marco, Eri, Tarma, and Fio. In the heat of combat, Allen unleashed a ferocious strike, brutally severing Tarma's right forearm. His lifeless body plummeted down a snowy cliff and was devoured by a giant orca. However, a nearby patrol of Pipovulaj troops recovered his newly resurrected remains after Marco's team departed to confront General Morden. This traumatic incident has left him with a lingering fear and hatred towards orcas, whom he now perceives as viewing humans solely as prey. The experience has also filled him with disgust, haunted by the memory of the orca's inner anatomy.

After the Extraterrestrial Alliance Clash, Allen, Sagan, Logan, and some Rebel Infantrymen and cadets, along with a few Morden sympathisers, hatched a plan for a revenge attack on the South Pacific training island owned by the Peregrine Falcons Squad. Their aim was to install and house the earthquake-causing weapon, the Cabracan, which was jointly built by the Rebel Army, Pipovulaj, and Amadeus Syndicate, in their new base of operations. This was necessary as their previous bases had been raided.

To achieve this, Allen and Sagan disguised themselves as drill instructors and led a group of Regular Army and Peregrine Falcons Squad cadets to a remote island in the South Pacific. Unbeknownst to the cadets, Allen had secretly brainwashed them, implanting a false sense of security and focusing their minds solely on training. Their sinister intention was to use the cadets and any Intelligence Agency agents on the island as hostages and test subjects for the experimental simian and mantis transformation serums developed by Doctor Amadeus.

Once Division 6 and the uncaptured cadets infiltrated the main base, he and his platoon of land troops would engage in a fierce clash with Allen Jr., Walter, and Dilovar. He would discover that his son had joined the archenemy of the Rebel Army, a revelation that had been previously kept secret from him. He felt a deep sense of betrayal, but he knew it would be rash to turn on his son simply because of their differing allegiances. With a heavy heart, he accepted the fact that Allen Jr. had chosen to serve the Regular Army, and it seemed unlikely that he would ever switch sides. Before he could retreat with his surviving soldiers, Walter and Dilovar took his life in a furious act of retribution for their fallen comrades. Fortunately, Sagan was able to recover his body, which was undergoing a biological self-resurrection process.

[transgenderer]

Unlike vertebrates, plants do not have an adaptive immune system. Nonetheless, plants can launch specific, self-tolerant immune responses and establish immune memory.

To promote virulence, pathogens inject effector molecules that target conserved immune signalling hubs into the plant cell. In response, plants have evolved resistance (R) proteins that detect effector-induced perturbations in these hubs, providing the potential to specifically recognize a large number of pathogens with similar infection strategies through a smaller number of R proteins.

Intraspecific and interspecific plant crosses suggest that autoimmunity can arise from self-reacting R proteins, illustrating the threat of uncontrolled R protein activity. Dynamic transcriptional and post-transcriptional regulation of R protein levels is thought to minimize the risk of autoimmunity in plants.

Pathogen-infected tissues generate a mobile immune signal consisting of multiple proteins as well as lipid-derived and hormone-like molecules. These signal molecules are transported to systemic tissues, where they induce systemic acquired resistance (SAR). SAR is associated with the systemic reprogramming of thousands of genes to prioritize immune responses over routine cellular requirements.

Epigenetic modifications and site-specific chromatin remodelling seem to provide a long-lasting memory of pathogen attack. They are also hypothesized to induce genome rearrangements in specific loci, which can be transmitted to subsequent generations.

[hunkystephaudio]

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[bxbyjupiter]

Embers of Hope; Part Two

Pairing: Wakanda!Bucky x FOC

Summary: In the tranquil isolation of Wakanda, Bucky Barnes confronts the weight of his trauma while forging a reluctant bond with a mysterious woman aiding his recovery. As her own devastating secret emerges, their shared struggles ignite a fragile hope for redemption and resilience in the face of insurmountable odds.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Themes of emotional distress, unresolved trauma, guilt, terminal illness, risky medical procedures.

Notes: No one asked for this but I already had it done so I figured I’d post it and if anyone wants this to continue I’ll do it! I’ll probably keep writing anyway lol

Part One

The lab was alive with energy. Shuri paced back and forth in front of the holographic display, vibrant equations and genetic sequences glowing in the air as she scrolled through her data. Her usual confidence radiated brighter than ever, but beneath it was a restrained urgency. This could be the breakthrough they had all been waiting for.

Dallas sat at the edge of a sleek, sterile table, her legs swinging nervously. She watched Shuri with a mix of awe and trepidation. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a small flicker of hope in her chest, but it was wrapped tightly in fear.

Shuri turned to her, her eyes gleaming. “Dallas,” she said with a triumphant smile, “I think I’ve got it.”

Dallas’s breath hitched. “Got what, exactly?”

Shuri gestured to the hologram. “This—this is your genetic profile, combined with what we’ve learned about the serum you’ve been relying on. I’ve been studying the changes your father made to your DNA, trying to understand not just the powers you were given, but the degradation it’s caused to your cells.” She paused for a moment, taking a breath. “I believe I’ve found a way to stop the degeneration altogether.”

Dallas blinked, her mind racing to keep up. “You mean… permanently? No more injections, no more temporary fixes?”

Shuri nodded, her smile widening. “Yes. Permanently.”

The words hung in the air, almost too heavy for Dallas to process. Permanently. A solution that wasn’t just a bandage, but a cure. A chance to live without constantly counting down the days, wondering how much time she had left.

But the flicker of hope was quickly overshadowed by doubt. She frowned, her hands clenching the edge of the table. “How? How is that even possible?”

Shuri approached, her tone softening as she explained. “Your DNA was altered at the most fundamental level before you were even born. The process wasn’t perfect, and the instability is what’s been causing your health to deteriorate as your powers grow stronger. I believe we can stabilize your DNA using nanotechnology. Essentially, the nanites will act as microscopic surgeons, repairing the damage on a cellular level and reprogramming the faulty sequences.”

Dallas swallowed hard. It sounded like something out of science fiction. “And this… this won’t just slow it down? It’ll stop it?”

Shuri gave her a steady look. “It’s never been attempted on this scale, but if it works…” She smiled gently. “Your body will stop degrading. You’ll have a chance at a normal life.” Shuri catches herself, letting a soft laugh out. “As normal of a life you can have with telekinetic abilities.” 

Dallas swallowed hard, her throat suddenly tight. The weight of the words hit Dallas like a freight train. A normal life. It was something she hadn’t dared to dream of for so long. The hope surged, bright and overwhelming, but it was quickly tempered by fear. For the first time in years, she felt the faintest flicker of hope. But it scared her. That flicker could burn out just as quickly as it had appeared, leaving her in the same darkness she’d been living in for years.

“What’s the catch?” Dallas asked, her voice trembling. “There’s always a catch.”

Shuri hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “The procedure is complex and risky. We’ll have to put you under for several hours while the nanites do their work. They’ll be interfacing directly with your DNA, which means your body will be under significant stress. There’s a chance your powers could react… unpredictably during the process.”

Dallas’s throat tightened. “So there’s a chance it could kill me… or I could hurt you.”

Shuri tilted her head, her gaze steady. “There’s always a risk, Dallas. But this is the best shot we’ve got. If it works, you won’t just survive—you’ll thrive… We’ll take all the necessary precautions, I promise.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the decision pressing down on them both. Dallas stared at the holograms, her mind spinning. For so long, she had resigned herself to the inevitability of her death. The serums had bought her time, but they were a temporary fix. Now, for the first time, she could see a future that wasn’t overshadowed by her illness.

But the fear was still there. The fear of hoping too much, of letting herself believe this could work only to have it all come crashing down.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Dallas admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want to believe you, Shuri. I want to believe that I can actually have a life. But what if it doesn’t work? What if this is just… false hope?”

Shuri placed a hand on her shoulder, her expression gentle but firm. “I can’t promise you it’ll work, Dallas. But I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t believe in it. You’ve fought so hard to stay alive, to make it this far. This is your chance to stop surviving and start living.”

Dallas closed her eyes, her heart pounding. She wanted to believe. She wanted to throw herself into this with everything she had. But the scars of her past—the guilt, the fear, the loss—they made it so hard to trust in anything good.

Dallas blinked back tears and looked at Shuri, forcing a shaky smile. “What’s the timeline?”

“We can perform the surgery in a week,” Shuri replied. “The prep work will take a few days, and we’ll need to ensure your body is in the best possible condition before we begin. But once we’re ready, we can proceed.”

Dallas nodded slowly, her hands gripping the edge of the table. She needed to process this—needed time to let the idea settle in her mind. “Thank you, Shuri,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t… I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Shuri replied gently. “Take the time you need. But know this, Dallas—you’ve fought so hard to get to this point. Now it’s time for us to fight for you.” _______

The sun was setting as Dallas made her way to the village, the sky painted in warm hues of orange and purple. The path was familiar now, and she followed it instinctively, her thoughts racing. She hadn’t told Bucky about Shuri’s breakthrough yet. She needed to see him, to talk to him, to share this sliver of hope even if she couldn’t fully believe in it herself.

When she reached the small hut where Bucky was staying, she found him sitting on a small stool, sharpening a knife with deliberate, practiced movements. He looked up when he saw her, his expression softening.

“Hey,” he said simply, setting the knife aside. “You okay?”

Dallas hesitated for a moment before stepping closer and sitting down on a neighboring log of wood. The cool evening air brushed against her skin, grounding her as she searched for the right words.

“I think Shuri might’ve done it,” she said finally, her voice quiet. “She thinks she’s figured out how to stop it. Permanently.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly, his blue eyes scanning her face. “Stop it?” he echoed.

Dallas nods slowly, her eyes pinned to the dirt in front of her. “The mutations,” Dallas explained. “She thinks she can fix it. There’s a procedure—a surgery. It’s risky, but if it works…” She trailed off, her voice faltering. “If it works, I’ll actually… live.”

Bucky was silent for a moment, processing her words. She could see the understanding in his eyes—the way he recognized the cautious hope in her voice, the way he knew exactly why she wasn’t letting herself fully believe it yet.

“That’s good news,” he said finally, his voice calm and steady. “Isn’t it?”

Dallas nodded, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “It is. It’s the best news I’ve had in… forever. But I’m scared, Bucky. I’m scared to hope for something I’ve never let myself believe in before. What if it doesn’t work? What if I let myself believe in it, and it just…” She shook her head, her voice breaking. “I don’t think I can take that.”

Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at her. “I get it,” he said quietly. “Trusting something’s gone for good? It’s not easy. Every time I hear someone say the words ‘Winter Soldier,’ I still feel like I’m waiting for it to come back. For Hydra to come back.” He paused, his gaze steady. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to believe it’s gone.”

Dallas met his eyes, her chest tight with emotion. She could see the truth in his words—the way he carried his own cautious hope, the way he understood the constant battle between fear and belief.

“What if I can’t let myself believe in it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Then don’t,” Bucky said simply. “Not yet. Just take it one step at a time. You don’t have to dive in headfirst. Just… keep moving forward. And when you’re ready, you’ll know.”

Dallas felt a tear slip down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Bucky admitted, his voice soft. “But you’re not doing it alone. You’ve got Shuri, and the people here. And you’ve got me.”

She smiled faintly, the weight on her chest lifting just slightly. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He nodded, leaning back slightly as the sun dipped below the horizon. They sat together in silence for a while, the world around them quiet and still. For the first time in a long time, Dallas let herself feel that faintest flicker of hope—not enough to overwhelm her, but enough to keep her moving forward. _______

The sterile glow of the lab was brighter than usual, the Wakandan technology humming softly as it prepared for the most critical procedure Dallas had ever faced. Shuri moved with her usual efficiency, her expression calm and focused as she explained the final steps to her team. Dallas sat on the edge of the surgical table, her hands fidgeting in her lap as Shuri prepared the equipment. The holograms surrounding her displayed intricate details of DNA strands, medical charts, and blueprints of the procedure that would change everything—or so they hoped.

Dallas’s nerves were on edge. The room felt colder than usual too, or maybe it was just the icy grip of fear creeping into her chest. She had decided to go through with the surgery, despite the risks, despite the uncertainty. But now that the moment was here, she couldn’t shake the knot in her stomach.

Shuri approached her, carrying a sleek Wakandan tablet. Her calm and composed demeanor was a grounding force. “We’re ready when you are,” Shuri said gently, placing a reassuring hand on Dallas’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous,” Dallas admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced around the room, taking in the faces of the medical team bustling with quiet efficiency. “But… I’m ready. I think.

Shuri nodded, offering her a small smile. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this. Just trust me, alright?”

Dallas managed a faint smile, though her nerves were still buzzing. As Shuri turned to adjust one of the machines, a thought struck her, and she hesitated before speaking again. “Does Bucky know?” she asked, her voice tentative. “Does he know I’m… having the procedure today?”

Shuri tilted her head slightly, her expression softening. “He does. I told him this morning.”

The words settled in Dallas’s chest like a stone. She felt an odd pang of disappointment, though she quickly tried to push it aside. She hadn’t expected him to show up—he had no reason to, no obligation. But still, a small part of her had hoped he might. She hated herself for feeling that way, for wanting him to care enough to be here.

“Okay,” Dallas said quietly, her voice betraying none of her emotions. She forced a tight smile, hoping Shuri wouldn’t notice the flicker of hurt in her eyes. “Good. That’s good.”

Shuri studied her for a moment as if sensing the unspoken thoughts swirling in her mind. But she didn’t press. Instead, she offered a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder. “He has his own way of dealing with things,” she said gently. “But right now, this is about you. Focus on yourself, Dallas. You deserve that.”

Dallas nodded, forcing herself to breathe deeply as Shuri and her team began their final preparations. She closed her eyes, letting the hum of the machines lull her into a fragile calm. Whatever happened next, she had to believe that she’d done everything she could.

Dallas laid back on the surgical table, her heart pounding. The sterile light above her felt blinding, and she closed her eyes to block it out. She focused on her breathing, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

The procedure was groundbreaking, uncharted territory even for Wakanda. They were about to rewrite the very fabric of her DNA, undoing the damage her father had inflicted before she was even born. It was her one shot at survival—a chance to finally live without the constant shadow of death looming over her.

But as much as she wanted to believe in it, the fear was still there. The fear of failure. The fear of hope being snatched away again.

Shuri leaned over her, her voice steady and soothing. “Dallas, we’re going to administer the sedative now. When you wake up, it’ll be done. Just trust us, okay?”

Dallas opened her eyes, meeting Shuri’s gaze. There was so much she wanted to say, but the words felt trapped in her throat. Instead, she simply nodded. “Okay,” she whispered.

As the sedative began to take effect, her thoughts grew hazy, and her breathing slowed. The last thing she saw before her eyes closed was the faint glow of Wakandan technology surrounding her, and Shuri’s face—a calm and reassuring presence in a storm of uncertainty.

And then, she drifted into darkness, her last conscious thought a silent wish that, maybe, just maybe, this time hope would win. _______

Dallas blinked groggily, the dim light of the lab filtering through her half-open eyes. Her body felt heavy, her head spinning as she tried to make sense of where she was. The sterile scent of the room brought her back to reality—it was over. The surgery was done.

Her heart rate picked up as her eyes darted around the room. The medical equipment was still buzzing softly, the monitors displaying steady readings. But the room was empty. No Shuri. No team. Just silence.

The knot of panic began to tighten, her breathing shallow as she tried to sit up. Her hand instinctively moved to the IV in her arm, the tape tugging at her skin as she adjusted it. She tried to calm her spiraling thoughts, but the silence only fed the unease creeping into her chest. Her mind began to spiral. Was something wrong? Did it fail? Why was she alone? Panic bubbled up in her chest, but before it could fully take over, the door to the lab slid open with a quiet hiss.

Bucky stepped in, a glass of water in hand. His expression softened when he saw her awake, and he immediately moved to her side. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and steady. He set the glass down on the small table beside her and placed his hand on the back of the chair he’d clearly been sitting in before. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Dallas stared at him for a moment, her panic ebbing away but confusion still lingering. “Where’s Shuri?” she asked, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Bucky exhaled softly and sat down in the chair, leaning forward slightly. “Shuri’s resting. She’s been at this for hours—she wanted to be here when you woke up, but I told her I’d stay and make sure you weren’t alone.”

Dallas’s chest tightened again, though it wasn’t from fear this time. She stared at him, her voice barely a whisper. “You stayed?”

“Yeah,” he said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I wasn’t gonna leave you here by yourself.”

Her throat felt tight, but she forced herself to focus. “Did she say anything? About the surgery? Did it… work?” The words came out fast, almost frantic.

Bucky hesitated, his blue eyes steady as he met her gaze. “She said it’s too early to tell,” he explained gently. “Your body needs time to adjust, and they’ll have to monitor you. They need to see how everything holds up before they can say for sure.”

Dallas sank back against the pillows, her chest heavy with a mix of relief and lingering dread. She’d made it through the surgery, but the uncertainty still loomed. It wasn’t over yet.

Bucky seemed to sense her spiraling thoughts. He reached for the glass of water, holding it out to her. “Here. You’ve been out for a while. Drink.”

She took the glass, her hands trembling slightly, and took a small sip. The cool water soothed her dry throat, but it did little to calm the storm inside her. “It’s going to take time,” she echoed quietly, more to herself than to him. “That’s what Shuri said?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He leaned back slightly, his flesh hand resting on his thigh. “But she also said she’s optimistic. You’ve come this far, Dallas. You’ve got this.”

Dallas glanced at him, her lips pressing into a faint, wry smile. “Since when are you the optimist?” she teased lightly, though her voice was still tinged with exhaustion.

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. But his expression softened as he looked at her, his voice low and sincere. “I’m serious, though. You’re stronger than you think.”

Her smile faded, and for a moment, the room was quiet save for the soft hum of the machines. She looked down at the glass in her hands, her mind still racing but her heart just slightly lighter. He’d stayed. Even when she hadn’t expected him to, even when she’d tried to convince herself it didn’t matter, he’d stayed.

“Thanks,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced back up at him, her eyes meeting his. “For being here.”

Bucky nodded, his gaze steady. “You don’t have to thank me.”

But the way he said it—the way he looked at her—made her feel like, for once, she wasn’t fighting this battle alone. And for the first time in a long time, she let herself hold onto that.

[shree3redranger]

Also since it’s been stated many times that fully programmed nanites are designed to cure diseases, end starvation, mutations, grow new cells, and health problems by working on a genetic cellular level even by the creator himself, rex should be able to cure the Ultimen of their massive cellular degradation ( especially since he was injected with the first batch of fully programmed ones at the age of 10 ) by filling their body with his nanites to repair and cure it plus since his omega nanite can make an unlimited supply of nanites it definitely shouldn’t be a problem at all

And Rex’s nanites were reprogrammed to now disregard the photo-reactive coding to specific genes by emitting a frequency tone pulse to cure people like were-EVO’s with dominant gene traits like werewolf syndrome that can gain control over their transformations now without turning at night or losing control

So it should definitely be possible that he could cure mutants too

[gothicdicordia]

Ok the big secret is I don't want my organs removed because IF I reach a point of inflection in time where my body can be rejuvenated that my womb will be intact and I could have children.

And I honestly cheaped out on implants because I wanted the space for my teeth to regrow in five years.

And because the type of tech I anticipate will be a regulation system augment basically reprogramming cellular activity using the bodies own system - I figure rejuvenating vs regrowing would be more efficient.

You wouldn't have to supplement the system with outside building blocks to handle extra cell growth.

Thing is if any of this is possible and I reach this point in time anything within physical laws would be possible. And with proper supplemental nutrition one could grow anything.

I still don't want you to kill my uterus. It's part of me. I can't emphasize this enough. I'm adverse. My deepest core pain and body horror has been completely activated.

[dosesofcommonsense]

I know it sounds crazy that vaccines might actually cause autism, but hear me out on this.

Do you remember Johnson and Johnson’s admission about their C19 vaccine? They admitted it contained aborted fetal tissue. Keep this in mind.

Have you ever seen the HEK lettering on foods and drinks? Know what it stands for? Human Embryonic Kidney. Google will tell you that much.

Now, of all the aborted children, which ones are most likely to be aborted? “Doctors” question parents who are slated to receive an autistic child or downs child, and we hear of “doctors” pressuring parents to abort those children.

We know Planned Parenthood has been selling aborted baby parts for “stem cell research” [the largest such research facility is in Ukraine] and crowdfunding assets they then donate to Globalist Congressionals.

Now, put the pieces together:

- aborted autistic kids

- parts sold for research

- HEK additives

- fetal tissue in vaccines

- vaccines reprogramming cellular tissue

You end up with a high probability of vaccines increasing autism rates and the continuance of the dirty money system.

[unboundtravels]

SHORT TRIPS; UNBOUNDNOVEMBER 12/23: WHERE THERE'S LIFE...

After defeating his oldest enemy, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫's companion Eden is taken by The Director. She's being brought to Gallifrey to join the ranks of The Celestial Intervention Agency. Afflicted with deadly Radiation Poisoning, The Doctor plans to pursue.

"You can't win, Doctor." 

His voice echoed across the room, a tall man. He had black hair, and he was wearing black trousers, fine dress shoes, and an inconspicuous black shirt underneath a heavy black coat that went down to the knees. His hair was ruffled, much like The Doctor's. Although it appeared to be a bit more spikier. His skin was pale but his eyes were a burning yellow. Between his middle and ring finger, there was a small cylindrical device. It was almost the size of a twistable lipstick cylinder. His thumb pressed against the end, and even the slightest bit of pressure would cause 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓's tissue compression eliminator to shrink 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑐𝑡𝑜𝑟 to death. The man across from him, with spiked green hair and dark eyes— was wearing a navy-blue velvet smoking jacket and a lighter blue velvet shirt, with a black bow tie, brown trousers, and brown shoes. 

"Listen to me—" The Doctor stepped closer, The Master raised an eyebrow. That tiniest application of pressure caused The Doctor to put his hands up. This incarnation particularly had tormented The Doctor more than a few times during his exile on Earth. Enough for The Doctor to grow familiar with his absent-minded cruelty. This time, The Master seemed determined to kill everyone. The Doctor knew he wasn't thinking too broadly enough to consider, either, that that would include himself. "You're dealing with forces out of your comprehension."

The Master laughed, "Oh, my simple-minded fellow. I'm dealing with forces entirely within both our powers." He gestured to the steel floors of the space station they were currently in. The Master had cannibalized a Timelord Prison. A space station on the edge of charted space. The problem with capturing a prison, though— was that Timelords weren't currently the kind of people who took living prisoners. Instead, they saved their temporal signatures in a storage vault. Cellular data of all of the most dangerous space-temporal criminals that The Timelords deemed enemies. The Master was attempting to genetically reconstitute all of these inmates... all at once. He was attempting to build an army he could control all throughout Time and space. "You see, My Dear Doctor— Once I release these captive fools from their caged torment... I can lead them on a mighty cavalry charge across the universe! How would the timelords expect what they don't know is coming, my friend? I'd have taken them by surprise."

He's banking entirely on the knowledge that whatever Gallifrey locks away— they forget about. It is a rather low-staffed prison. The Warden is the only timelord actually there, whilst the rest of his staff are robotic agents that have already been reprogrammed by The Master too service him, and only him. The Warden was killed, long before he could even regenerate. His body lay on the floor, The Master having killed him with a power cable to the point where the body was nothing but burnt flesh. The Doctor kept his mind focused, pointing out the alarm bell ringing through the Station's power bank. So much storage required its own stellar manipulation engine in order to power it, and right now... it appeared to be overloading. 

"Don't you see? The station's engine. It's overloading—" "All within my design."

"No, man! You've undercalculated!" The Doctor stepped forward, The Master backing up slightly as he narrowed his gaze. "Don't move!" The Master said, "Explain." The Master watched as The Doctor took a deep breath, "You're not releasing a large group— you're releasing EVERY prisoner. Centuries of data are programmed here. The Timelords never designed this place with the intent of a mass pardon! The station's in overload! It's going to explode!" The Master's subtle reply to The Doctor's warning was just a simple widening of the eyes before he quickly narrowed them again.

"Well, I'll just flee in my TARDIS. These fools earned their sentence. Gallifrey will still—"

Quickly, The Master was cut off again. "What? They'll be wiped out? Think about what happens to you whilst you're in flight. What's going to happen when not only The Eye of Harmony— but half of the known universe dies with them?! What's going to happen to the space-time vortex, man!?" The Doctor shouted, The Master grimacing. The Doctor was right, The Master could see that he was beginning to understand that through the chewing of his bottom lip. He looked for one moment toward the power battery. The Master exhales. "Pity. Even if I wanted to stop it, I couldn't. It's too far gone." The Doctor recoiled at his confession, clenching fists tighter. The Master continued, "At least we'll die together, won't we? I think that's a more fitting fate than either of us realize, my dear Doctor."

"And what about the celestial intervention agency? The CIA?" The Doctor threw it out, suddenly. "What about them?" He raised an eyebrow. "They're on their way here! Right now!" He saw The Master's reaction to that.

The Director, The Chancellery Guard, hell! Even The President could be on their way here. The Doctor pressed the knife deeper, knowing The Master had been all too familiar with The War Chief's demise, and The Doctor's exile. 'What would they do to him?', he probably wondered. "Can you survive until their interception? If they make it in time, maybe they can stop this. I know I'll have to try, at least." The Master suddenly snapped toward him, The Doctor suddenly close enough to slap the TCE out of his hand.

The Master swung a punch, but The Doctor blocked it. Suddenly swinging a mighty punch across The Master's jaw— a loud crack echoed out as The Master collapsed against the floor. The Doctor moved toward the door to the Power Bank. He withdrew his Sonic Screwdriver. The Master picked himself up, rubbing his bloody jaw before shouting toward his timelord foe. "Doctor! The Radiation in that room—!!" But it was too late, The Doctor opened the door and was immediately struck with the weight of what felt like a thousand microwaves. The Master was only slightly singed by it— but The Doctor took a full bombardment before he was sealed within the room.

"You fool!!" The Master shouted through the glass. "You've killed yourself!!"

He was right. The Doctor's body at this very second was currently being destroyed on a cellular level. Every passing second pumped enough radiation into him to power ten nuclear power plants. Still, he persevered. Every movement was strained— sweat dripping down his forehead as he moved toward the center power coupling. The Engine of the prison— had a sort of safety pin mechanism. A large cylindrical tank in the center of the room connected to the core down below. All The Doctor would have to do is open up the cylindrical device and remove the core to abort the release procedure. It wasn't easy though. The Master watched him twist and twist and twist. Every twist loosened the safety valve, and with no protective gear, The Doctor was continuously bombarded with more temporal radiation. 

He heard the door to the power chamber opening, and so did The Master. The CIA had probably arrived. Quickly, The Master took a remote out of his jacket and summoned his TARDIS. Its materialization sequence engaged at the same moment The Doctor pulled the chamber from the safety cylinder up, the core was a burning hot ball of titanium, rippling with energy that would sear his flesh if he stuck it inside. The Master's TARDIS fully materialized at the exact moment the door opened. The Director stepped inside, splendid white robes and bright pink hair coming into view. She withdrew a staser pistol, so did her guards. They missed The Master by a hair as he fled into his TARDIS— his capsule's strained materialization noise echoing out. The Trailblazer, who was in toe— rushed towards the door to the safety chamber.

"No!" The Director grabbed her, "No! You can't go in there!! He's dead already—" "Get off me!! Get off me!!" She screamed, "Let me go!! DOCTOR!!!" She punched The Director off of her.

The Doctor reached his hand inside, electricity causing him to scream in pain as he wrapped his hand around the molten steel ball. Once this orb was removed from its chamber, he'd abort the release procedure and The Master's plan would be foiled. Temporal radiation and high-voltage electricity surged through his body and he let out a mighty scream of pain. He shut his eyes from the pain. He had to rip the ball out from metal couplings, so he was pulling with all the strength he had, the creaking of the safety pins echoing out as he saw what he only assumed to be pre-death images of the life he'd lived so far. Hearing words echo through his mind.

"...But I want you to stay. Please." "I'd like to give it my best shot, and I promise I'll work hard not to let you down." "I want to see… what your life is like."

His eyes opened, dark eyes meeting golden orbs. He saw her hands pressed against the glass. He saw her for a second, and that was all he needed. Determination flooded through his veins as he ripped the orb out from its safety circuit. As soon as he did, there was a huge release of heat and steam as The Doctor crashed against the floor. The Director and her guards checked the readouts. Safety systems were being re-engaged, and The Radiation was being flooded from the room as the power core began to heat itself down. The Director ordered her men to channel all available system power toward pumping the radiation out of that room. It took two minutes to flood the radiation from the room and open the door. Eden entered as soon as she could, turning The Doctor from his side and onto his back. The Director stood behind her.

He was dead. It looked as if there was no chance of regeneration... it was... 

"There's... There's too much damage." She told Eden.

He thinks he remembers a few tears hitting his skin before he died. As he slipped away, he knew his trailblazer was holding him closely. The way her tears radiated with a small flicker of the Stellaron within her. It brought a certain warmth. Already, he had slipped away... but somehow... even in the void of death... He knew it was her. 

It was a nice last memory.

"Did you get The Doctor's body loaded into his TARDIS?" One of the CIA agents asked his colleague.

Right now, the Timelord procedure was to load a deceased Timelord onto their TARDIS, so that it could be sent back to Gallifrey for funeral proceedings. The Agent who loaded The Doctor into the TARDIS had just finished taking a final biometric reading, "Yes— Well, I still have to preprogram his TARDIS for the funeral chambers, but." He approached his colleague, "Take a look at this." and together, The two CIA agents examined the biometric data. "It's The Doctor's life-signs." The senior agent says, "I mean, he's dead, but—" They stopped.

"Wait a moment," The senior agent paused. "You said you took these just now? Not immediately after his death?" And he looked toward the agent who'd performed the scan, who nodded. "Just now." And the senior agent looked down. "But... this says that something entered The Doctor's system, just after death— if these readings are right... then that energy should've... well it should've jumpstarted his—"

Suddenly, a thud echoed out from The Doctor's TARDIS. The Agent immediately rushed to raise his communicator before his senior agent stopped him. Together, they watched The Doctor's TARDIS dematerialize, a loud whooshing and groaning echoing out from the station before the box fully vanished. 

"But... why?"

"In case you hadn't noticed... The Doctor just saved half of the known universe..." The Senior Agent explained why he'd stopped the communication to The Director. It might cost them a scolding, later... but... The Senior Agent shrugged. It was The Doctor. Of course, The Doctor was alive.

"Let him have a bit of real freedom, just for a little while."

The sound of the TARDIS interior ripples across the room as if the sound is trapped in a tight hall of mirrors. Weak fingers move to slowly and weakly push up a take-off lever. The Doctor was indeed alive. However, he hadn't been entirely sure just how he'd survived in the first place. Through shaky breaths, he slid different levers up that sent the TARDIS further into the Time-Space Vortex, clicking different switches as he exhaled quietly. He could recall traces of his final moments, just before Death. He thought he'd heard... something about... how— Come with me, Eden. His breaths were shallow, his body weighed with a heavy heat that was causing him to drip sweat onto The Console.

A head leans back softly at the sound of the TARDIS taking off. His breaths are labored and his body is weak, and yet he still reaches across the console to push up levers and twist knobs. His head is buzzing, and he can feel something rippling across his chest and hearts. The Radiation. He knows what's happening... and despite the fact that he can feel it coming... It's not his priority. Images shift in his mind, like pictures on a static screen that flicker in front of his eyes. Crimson hair shifts back and forth between a softer ashy color— before flickering toward a blonde color, and then a soft brunette. A white dress flickers back and forth between a dark jacket, before changing to a polka-dotted dress. He's remembering people— people in his life? Wait... Where— No!! He needs... Needs to focus!!

 His mind must simply be that damaged. His eyes begin to go a bit emptier, and he can't really organize his head. The Radiation has ravaged not just his body... but his mind. A sacrifice. Made in vain, perhaps? No... No... He knows that whatever is happening... whoever pushed him toward this sacrifice— they're... They're stopped now. But... he still wants to... He needs— He chokes out a groan of pain as he slightly collapses against the TARDIS console. "C-Can't... Can't let The Timelords... Take... Eden—" He exhales, feeling something happening to his hands. They tingle a bit as he reaches up to try and set the coordinates for Gallifrey— a glowing golden color emanating off of his skin, the flowing energy following his hands. It's starting...

His legs give out, and he falls against the console. He accidentally pushes a few extra levers and switches forward, and the TARDIS hum sharpens suddenly... but it all goes numb in his mind as he feels his arms also give out... filling with pins and needles. The radiation. It's finishing him off like a poison ravaging his bloodstream, converting every single cell into something unusable. Whatever brought him back to life isn't enough to stop the damage it did. Whatever gave him a jumpstart, it was not enough to fully hold back death... it was only enough... it was only enough to start—

His lips go pale, his skin goes a ghostly white, not all at once... whatever form of death had started just begins to take it's course— delayed for a single moment. He collapses against the ground. A small yelp escapes him, but it turns into a series of pants that get slower and slower. What's.... going to happen to him, now? Is he going to die? His body's been so damaged, that he isn't even sure if a change can happen. Was it truly a jumpstart? Or did he just get a few extra steps? Whatever's left might not recognize what it is. He can hear the TARDIS starting to land somewhere that he didn't intend for it to land, his eyes look up toward the console... the ringing and buzzing within his head growing louder and louder... until he can barely hear anything else but the ringing in his ears. His head can't hold itself up, anymore. It hits the floor softly. His eyes go a foggy white... and his last breath eventually slips out... unheard by any of the friends and companions who carried him this far. 

"Is... Is this death—?"

He gasps, taking one final inhale before his eyes shut. He dies... for the second time today. The TARDIS engines roar out as the light from his hands begins to glow. It starts softly. Almost... as if it might never happen at all. The veins beneath the skin of the hands begin to glow a soft, almost faded gold. It slowly begins to burn the poison away... represented by a glowing golden energy that slowly gets brighter and brighter, all the while... the rickety Police Box begins to fade in and out of existence somewhere very far away from where he was trying to go. Meanwhile, the interior is bathed in a bright light that has fully engulfed the man on the floor. His skin is glowing such a bright yellow-golden, that it totally covers the hair, glowing a steady light... like a lens flare. Every bit of skin and flesh exposed to the air is bathed in a golden light.

The skin, while still pale, flushes out with some more obvious coloration. The dual-toned hair, which was previously a bit spikey, becomes a bit softer and wavier, despite the raged bedhead look it quickly takes on. Darker locks flush out into a silver color. Dark eyes, whose lids have fully enclosed now, turn a bright blue. The body fills out a little more, but it's still a little lanky. The glow begins to die down, and radiating energy shifts into a softer tone that eventually subsides completely. A brand new man is lying on the floor. His eyes are still shut, but a bit looser... as if he's merely in a state of unconsciousness... or perhaps

He's just having some kind of pleasant dream...

TO BE CONTINUED.

[radiesthesia]

Physical Programmer – Double Star

The group of scholars who created it had the intention that it would act directly into the genetic cells of the human body, for healing. All the graphics that act on the physique act directly on the deficient part of the patient, bringing an improvement in the cause of the physical problem. With this graph will act basically on the constituent matrices of the body, causing perfect health to be reprogrammed, from the point of origin, because as it is known the matrix is perfect, it only suffers deficiency in the part in which it was neglected or poorly worked, in past experiences.

He slowly and harmoniously restructures the entire organic framework of the individual in therapy with this chart. Although there is no immediate improvement , its action is carried out radically, in all physical levels, be it cellular, molecular, organic and systemic, bringing from the basic cell to perfect and real health information, manifesting organic health, without offend or force the nature of things.

The “physical programmer” graphic changes reality at the physical level, so that the organism is defining itself in a more real characteristic, close to health true. The way of working with this graph is no exception to the general rule of radionic, radiesthesic, energetic and related therapies. Must have on hand a testimony of the person, be it a photo, hair, etc., place it in the center of the chart, letting it act on its own. You can change your performance for a specific and appropriate purpose with the use of objects remembering that the aim of radionic science is the utilization of a word or set of designative words of a specific performance in the area in which one works with the graph; this word must be written on a piece of paper and placed in the center of the graph). You can also use cones, pyramids of copper or crystal, crystals, etc.

All this work may be accompanied by a detailed report of changes in the patient's symptomatic condition, in order to define changes in therapy application time.

[hyperadvancedbiotechnology]

Introducing Creative Society: A Glimpse into Hyper Advanced Body Regeneration Biotechnology

Creative Society is a global project that aims to develop a society where the potential and creativity of every individual is paramount. The group has supporters in more than 100 countries and organizes online events to discuss the concept and model of the creative society in all spheres of human life.

Creative Society has unveiled a video that exhibits a prospective sophisticated biotechnology, which would enable individuals to customize their physical traits.

This biotechnology technology would offer users many options and autonomy over their body, such as eliminating fat, enhancing muscle mass, and optimizing bones and ligaments. The video illustrates how the technology could significantly prolong life span and preserve the user’s body in a robust and youthful state. You can view a comprehensive demonstration of this technology by following the link provided below.

Creative Society vision is to develop a holistic care system that would enable users worldwide to personalize their preferences and access them from anywhere in the world. Additionally, the technology could abolish diseases, without any detrimental impacts while also significantly extending lifespan.

One of the most promising applications of biotechnology in general is on the subject of anti-aging, which aims to stop or reverse the aging process by targeting its underlying molecular mechanisms. Aging is associated with various epigenetic changes that alter gene expression and cellular function over time. By using techniques such as partial reprogramming with Yamanaka factors, researchers hope to reset the epigenetic clock and rejuvenate cells and tissues . Other approaches include using CRISPR gene editing to correct mutations that accumulate with age, or using senolytics to eliminate senescent cells that contribute to inflammation and tissue damage. These anti-aging therapies could potentially and significantly extend human lifespan.

The following five scientific studies exemplify the feasibility and actuality of reversing human aging through various interventions.

(1) Biological age of humans reversed by years in groundbreaking study .... https://www.independent.co.uk/news/science/biological-clock-ageing-turn-back-reverse-study-new-a9094261.html. (2) The ‘Benjamin Button’ effect: Scientists can reverse aging in ... - CNN. https://www.cnn.com/2022/06/02/health/reverse-aging-life-itself-scn-wellness/index.html. (3) Scientist Discovers Aging Clock to Speed and Reverse Aging | Time. https://time.com/6246864/reverse-aging-scientists-discover-milestone/. (4) Anti-Ageing Research: Ageing in Human Cells Reversed 30 Years in New .... https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2022-04-07/researchers-reverse-ageing-in-human-cells-by-30-years-study. (5) Reverse Aging: Study Finds Hyperbaric Oxygen Chamber Slows Aging. https://www.popularmechanics.com/science/health/a34730692/study-reverse-aging-in-humans/.

Furthermore there is abundant scientific evidence that validates the idea that biotechnology can facilitate fat reduction, muscle augmentation, and bone and ligament reinforcement. However, these interventions are not as efficacious or convenient as the ones Creative Society has envisioned for the future. You can access the links to some of the research papers that substantiate this idea below:

1. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6279907/

2. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4016236/

3. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2804956/

4. https://www.mdpi.com/2304-8158/12/6/1218

If you're keen on delving deeper into Creative Society and their mission to bring about a better future, you can visit their official website at https://creativesociety.com/, where you can also participate in their online events and contribute your own ideas. By joining forces, we can use biotechnology and creativity to mold the future according to our aspirations.

I trust that you found this article insightful and gained fresh knowledge about the vast potential of biotechnology. To acquire further information about the potential of biotechnology, I recommend watching the video that presents Creative Society's vision for future biotechnology at

Article by Michael Wichkoski

#regenerationcapsule #creativesociety #biotechnology #michaelwichkoski