#How to Improve Kidney

[eyes-of-nine]

they're so childhood friends to lovers bodyguard au coded to me 😌✨ (they have killed so so many people)

[flokali]

God bless my grandfather, nothing happened to him - he just swears I was born in August instead of September (TT)

[teenagefeeling]

my god

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

🙃

[teaboot]

Sometimes I think a lot about my mom's cat

My mom's cat is a common domestic shorthair we found on the side of the road as a kitten

Regular cat, not a maine coon or one of those massive breeds. His mom was smaller than a loaf of bread

But in a sort of a Clifford The Big Red Dog situation, he grew super fast, and really really big, and took a super long time to stop growing

Worried that she was overfeeding him, she eased back his portions, but he stayed a massive round baby

When he started having kidney problems, she took him to the vet.

The vet took a look at him and said, "holy fuck, what are you feeding him", checked the nutritional listings on his chow, and told her "Yeah, maybe he's reacting badly to the amount of grain in this, try a meatier diet"

So my mom wound up special-ordering this specific high-protein prescription cat food made of like. Kangaroo meat or some shit that cost like sixty bucks a bag

And, as typical act two in an episode of House, he somehow got worse on the fancy specialized stuff that was supposed to be Primo Athlete Olympic Feline Blend

Like. WAY worse. His guts were inflamed and his kidneys were shutting down and he was all sore and HE WAS STILL HUGE, just miserable and sad

So shetook him back to the vet, where they had to help him pee (he was apparently close to bursting and had some kind of blockage too) and went "Yeah no this is NOT normal and we don't know what's going on, we're gonna do some tests but in the meantime you should go back to what he was eating before, at least that wasn't actively killing him" so she did

And he still wasn't great, but he also improved

And so they take his blood and do an ultrasound and a couple g's later she gets a call back like "this is gonna sound crazy, but we want you to put him on a low-meat diet. Just the least amount of protein and iron and shit. We need you to find the grainiest, filler-iest dollar tree kibble available and give him some of that bad bad shit"

And my mother is a woman of science. So she did

And he GOT BETTER

His energy picked back up, inflammation went down, he started drinking normally again, got back to pissing like a fuckin champion

And so it turns out that out of all the random ass freeway bonus cats we possibly could have scooped out of a ditch, WE got the one-in-a-million freak of nature with a SPECIFIC genetic defect that means a paleo protein free range diet is essentially poison and he THRIVES on cheap ass garbage

Like. He medically NEEDS junk food

I dont really understand how that works, but i cant argue with results.

If we had four of him, they'd outweigh my mom. And he's FINE

Also blind, but that's unrelated

Im not using him as a symbol or a metaphor or anything. I just keep catching myself thinking about my mom's Big Fucking Cat

[dearmisshoney]

flesh light & prone bones

synopsis. coming home from brunch, you expected an empty apartment — not to catch your cocky roommate mattheo fucking a fleshlight to the thought of you. curiosity turns to temptation, and you both realize toys could never replace the real thing.

pairing. roommate! mattheo riddle x reader

content/mdni. fem!reader, roommate!au, pervert!reader, cocky!mattheo, pervert!mattheo, implied gymrat!mattheo, fleshlight-fucking, assisted masturbation, voyeurism to participation, filthy teasing, praise, dirty talk, name-calling (sweetheart, baby), overstimulation, allusion to edging, spit play, cum eating, doggy-style/prone bone (?), headlock/slight choking, slight spanking, unprotected p in v!

word count. 3.6k

a/n. this one goes to @pizzaapeteer! she convinced me to write another matty fic! let me know what you think. likes and reblogs are appreciated

inserting the keys in the lock and turning them twice, you finally locked the front door. leaving them to dangle in the door, you slowly made your way inside your shared apartment with mattheo. you only stopped for a moment in the hallway, removing your shoes and the purse you’ve been carrying around your brunch date with the girls.

but not your wired headphones.

no, you’d rather keep those in for the time being, preferring to listen to any kind of music than to mattheo rambling about sports and the like. you weren’t even sure he was home; he had a really bad habit of keeping to himself the important information, disclosing only dumb details like how much his bench press has improved.

but as you make your way further into the apartment, you realize he is home. the opened cardboard box on the kitchen island, the ripped package, and the violently scattered foam bits were a clear indicator that mattheo was at home.

“this jerk never cleans after himself.” you mumbled underneath your breath, extremely quiet, and if it weren’t for the fact that you said these words, you wouldn’t have been able to hear them thanks to your loud music.

mattheo was not the perfect roommate. he was flashy, annoying, messy. he also seems to respect the concept of privacy only when it applies to him; if you try to count the times you’ve found him in your room like a pervert, you wouldn’t have enough fingers, hands and feet combined.

nonetheless, he was paying his share of the rent in time, and if you yell at him a bit, he does clean around as well.

curious as ever, you approached the box to figure out what mattheo ordered.

“kidney failure is written all over him.”

it was probably another gigantic container of protein powder, or creatine, or whatever powders he uses for the gym and his godly physique, as he likes to call it. mattheo has an entire lower kitchen cabinet dedicated to his fitness journey, so such purchases were not uncommon.

with all that in mind, the cardboard box seemed too small compared to his usual orders. the box was also a different shape than the usual huge square cube mattheo gets his supplements in. twisting and turning the package in your hands, your eyes scanned the surface for any sort of clue — a company name, a product name, heck, even a cringey motto about gym life.

but nothing.

the package was blank, discreet.

the foam chunks were of no help, and the shipping paper was torn to pieces.

“he really wanted what’s inside, huh?”

you might as well check the cabinet and see if a new container has been added. that way, the mystery will be solved quicker.

bending at the knees, you dropped down to mattheo’s gym stash and swung open the door. this cabinet was the only place mattheo kept all clean and organized, so you immediately realized no new product was added.

“what the fuck did he buy?”

muttering to yourself again, you raise from your position, prepared to investigate the torn paper. only to have your wired headphones latched around the cabinet knob and snatched out of your ears.

“ugh­– this shi–”

“fuck, hmm, so good.”

now that your ears were no longer trapped by your headphones — which were now pathetically hanging around the knob — you could hear mattheo. and the nasty noises he was making.

he was loud.

“ah, ah, ah.”

his voice was low and raspy, and if it weren’t for the clear needy tone in his words, you would’ve said he was just having a bit too much fun with his video games.

that was not the case, however.

“s–so wet, damn.”

and with that, your brain short-circuits for good.

your entire body froze, one hand clenched around your knotty headphones, the other stiffing up by your side, clawing at the material of your shorts. you stayed like that for a few seconds, trying to process what the fuck you just heard.

maybe it wasn’t him. maybe it was porn, playing from his expensive speakers in his room.

yeah. yeah.

but no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, another guttural moan from mattheo shattered any sort of argument you could come up with.

that was him.

“tight as fuck, shittt.”

not only was mattheo home — he was very home, in his room, jacking off. owning the place and being as vocal as he liked.

“so good, so good.”

you wished to be angry and annoyed at him. you wished to slam your hand on the kitchen counter and yell his name to stop. you wished, you truly did, but something in you was fighting against these urges. something primal was itching at your brain, making your teeth bite into your lips, your hands clenching tighter.

something primal was itching at your stomach, making your tummy do a flip, your panties all wet.

“oh, baby, ohhh–”

you inhaled sharply, closing your eyes in an attempt to disconnect from the situation at hand and think straight.

i should just leave…

“ugh, damn.”

…pretend i heard nothing…

“it feels amazingggg.”

…and just take another walk.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk…”

yeah, i can do it–

you thought you could fight back, but your entire resolve collapsed when you heard your name moaned by mattheo.

that deep, rumbling voice, grunting your name without any shame. again, and again, and again.

“that pussy would feel so much better, i just know.”

so raw and desperate.

completely discarding your headphones, you finally moved. but not towards the front door.

tiptoeing down the hallway, you crept closer and closer to mattheo’s room. the wooden floor was slightly creaking underneath your footsteps, but neither you, nor mattheo seem to pay attention to it. he was too caught up in pleasure, and you were too turned on to care.

“you’d be so warm and– fuckk–”

mattheo was rambling on his own, groaning your name from time to time and vocalizing his dirtiest thoughts about you. and as wrong as this was — eavesdropping on your roommate fucking his fist, there was no shame in you. quite the opposite: his nasty words shoot directly at your core, making arousal pool in your panties and stick to your weeping cunt.

his door was slightly ajar. the close proximity allowed you to bathe into the obscene wet sounds he was making, now clearly registering the rhythmic movement of his thrusts. it was wet, stickily so, the sloshing noises being a definite indicator of mattheo’s need.

the close proximity also allowed you to dip your head in and take a peak.

but you shouldn’t. everyone has sexual urges and it was wrong for you–

“sweetheart, please…”

your head instantly turned towards the crack of the door, the pet name practically latching onto your neck and twisting you around to finally see him.

and you gasped.

that was not a hand.

there was mattheo, sprawled on his bed, completely naked. upper body leaning against the headboard, head thrown back. lower body jutting up and down from the mattress, thrusting with urgency into a pale grey fleshlight.

your thighs clamped into one another, your tiny shorts riding upwards on your legs, seam digging into your clit. you did your best not to snake your hand down into your panties to touch yourself, choosing to use it to steady yourself against the door.

you knew mattheo was hot.

hot was an understatement, really. as much as you liked to make fun of his cocky attitude and his pride for his godly physique, you couldn’t deny it. mattheo riddle was attractive beyond compare, and seeing him in this position made you want to jump on him and fuck him to death.

“shit– to have that sweet cunt all to myself…”

he was high on lust, babbling to himself between moans, jerking that new fleshlight to a sloppy rhythm. his abs were flexing with every rock of his hips; his arm, strained from the pressure of tightly gripping the sex toy, was a sharp valley of muscles, scattered with protruding veins.

“will you let me have you, sweetheart?”

shit.

his voice, still sultry and lustful, now had an undertone of arrogance. his head, previously lolling back against the wall, was now upright — his chocolate eyes staring right at you.

he caught you.

and he was proud of that.

“ah– don’t ignore me, baby.”

you couldn’t answer. words got stuck in your throat, your brain refusing to cooperate. you could only focus on the lazy movements of his hand, now guiding the fleshlight up and down his cock.

his cock, so hard and stiff. drenched in precum and lube. his cock, so red and pulsing, throbbing against the inside of the toy and begging for more.

his chest was raising and falling rapidly, visibly affected by the entire ordeal. the tips of his curls were sticking to his forehead, skin all sweaty and slick. yet, mattheo seemed more composed than you were.

“after i’ve called for you so nicely…”

he smirked, dragging the toy all the way down to his base with a deep groan; sheltering his entire shaft into the poor fleshlight.

“…could at least help me out, sweetheart.”

he did it all intentionally.

it wasn’t like mattheo did not know you got home. he knew, and that urged him to masturbate even more.

you swallowed thickly, still unsure whether to step in or not. a part of you wanted to join him desperately; the other part was arguing for you to leave and cool off alone.

mattheo could see the storm behind your gaze. and he knew how to help you decide.

suddenly, he removed the fleshlight from his shaft completely, letting the sex toy fall from his hand somewhere on the mattress. letting you see the way his stiff cock escaped from its confinement, stood tall for a few seconds, then flopped to the side.

“you’re a manwhore, mattheo.”

it’s all you managed to say as you stepped into the room, removing your cardigan, and throwing it somewhere on his floor.

“you say it like it’s a bad thing, baby.”

he hissed between his teeth, brushing off your ‘compliment’ and focusing on your actions. removing your outer layer, you were now nicely standing in a cropped tee and the tiniest fucking shorts he has ever seen you wear.

and when you seated yourself next to him on the bed, his cock twitched against his thigh hard.

“what if i had guests, hm?”

your voice was condescending, mean. your gaze sharp and accusatory.

but that only turned him on more.

mattheo let out a short, breathy laugh, licking over his lips. your question was of little importance to him. his eyes were focused on you only, hypnotized by your entire existence.

“but you don’t.”

he was so shameless, so brazen. his gaze was dancing along your body, making a first stop on your perky tits, another on the exposed skin of your thighs.

even if you had guests, he wouldn’t have acted differently.

“pervert.”

you spat at him like you were disgusted by his behaviour, yet your hand drew closed to the sex toy and brought it back into the spotlight.

“who would’ve thought–…”

you grabbed the base of his cock without warning, eliciting a strangled moan from mattheo.

“–that you’d–”

gathering some of your spit, you let the liquid drip all the way down to his cock, hitting the throbbing tip and gliding down the side of his cock.

“oh, fuck, wait–”

“–get a fleshlight.”

positioning the fleshlight at the right angle, you dragged it all the way down. his hips buckled involuntarily, the sudden stimulation making his thighs shake.

“why not fuck a real woman?”

you began moving the toy slowly, guiding it up and down. twisting and turning your wrist with expertise, you tried to mimic the way mattheo was jerking himself off before your intrusion.

“oh my god, this is so hot.”

mattheo was still taken aback by the entire situation: not only did you join him in bed, you were now pumping his cock with this newly bought sex toy, making him writhe around his bedsheets.

“so easily pleased.”

you hummed, mocking the way mattheo was already succumbing to pleasure.

he tried to take charge again, raising his torso from the headboard, but you were quicker. with a hand on his chest, you harshly pushed him back down, causing him to drop even closer to the mattress than before.

“answer me, mattheo!”

your speed around his shaft slowed, now dragging the toy at an agonizingly low pace. seeing your roommate mattheo scrunch his face in both pain and pleasure was irresistible.

“t–they’re not you.”

“not me?”

you did not expect such an answer. but he seemed to have answered truthfully, so you reward him by speeding up again.

“ah, ah, ah, sweetheart.”

mattheo was gasping now, hips chasing every glide of the toy like his life depends on it. his eyes were blown-out, half-lidded, heavy with lust; his mouth parted, his lips glossy with spit.

he hated how much of an effect you had on him, but he couldn’t do much.

your hand did anything but falter. the wet suction of the fleshlight was echoing louder and louder between the two of you, almost harmonizing with mattheo’s moans. he was putty under your control, and that made your cunt throb hard.

“and is this toy me?”

you seemed almost mad that he’d compare you with a stupid inanimate object: your lovely lips formed a pout, and your eyes widened with pretend sadness. all of it to emotionally taunt and pester mattheo.

“i can’t fuck you.”

mattheo raised his tone, exhasperated by your little accusations. why were you playing dumb? you would never let him blow your back, so a fleshlight was the onl–

“who said that?”

“huh?”

“who said you can’t fuck me?”

you tilted your head mockingly, putting all your effort into squeezing the base of the toy harder. you wanted to make him cum, you wanted to make him shoot his seed deep into the fleshlight.

“oh, baby, baby baby–”

he was chanting pet names like a mantra, his fingers clawing at the sheets with desperation. his jaw was clenched, and the veins on his forearms were accentuated even more.  

he was close. so close.

“c–can i actually fuck you?”

oh, he was so damn cute. such a big beefy guy, asking for permission, on the verge of tears.

“of course you can.”

mattheo did not answer that. only a long and loud groan left his lips, head digging against the headboard more and more. his body jolted once, twice, then shuddered hard as thick ropes of cum filled the toy.

you could feel the way the fleshlight became heavier with each passing second. you could also hear the slick squelches of it, louder and wetter, as you were still gliding it on his cock — milking him dry.

“give me all you’ve got!”

mattheo was done for. he looked absolutely wrecked, absolutely ruined — you loved it.

“f–fuck, no more, please.” he whined, tossing his head to the side from overstimulation.

you had no intention of stopping, really. but something about mattheo pleading to be released changed your resolve. so, with one final drag up his sensitive cock, you released him.

his cum oozed out of the toy in thick drips immediately, staining his crotch and abs.  

“damn, you really filled it up!”

holding the toy up for inspection, you could see his release seeping more and more out of it. it was creamy and gooey, and it made you wonder how it tastes.

“oh, shut up, you–”

raising the fleshlight higher, you stuck out your tongue and allowed some of his cum to land on it. the salty taste spread across your mouth in an instant.

and instead of spitting it, you happily swallowed.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

mattheo witnessed the entire thing. his cock did too, hardening again against his abs.

“wanna compare it with the real thing?”

and there it was — an even deadlier proposal from you.

you did not even wait for his answer, certain he will agree. rather, you discarded the toy completely, dropping it on the floor, choosing to turn around and bend over for mattheo.

“want? i need it.”

you heard him barely mutter behind you, as eager as before. he retracted his legs from the mattress, allowing you the space to position yourself on your hands and knees for him.

“fuck, baby, your shorts are soaked.”

mattheo now had a clear view of the effect he had on you: your tiny cotton shorts were stained with a big patch of arousal, butchered up all the way into your cunt. heck, if he tried more, he could define the outline of your pussy through your clothes.

“c’mon, mattheo, fuck me!”

you mewled at him like a vixen, arching your back into him and shaking your clothed ass. you instantly felt mattheo’s rough hands cupping the fat of your behind, caressing the skin and even dipping his fingers underneath your shorts.

feeling around. exploring.

“mattheo, huryyyyy”

“shut up.” he growled at you, striking your right buttcheek in a sharp and swift motion. “let me admire you.”

he continued to roam his hands all over you, feather touches all over your skin — exposed or not.

but not for long, as his patience was wearing thin as well.

gripping the hem of your shorts and panties at the same time, mattheo finally dragged them down to your bent knees, exposing that warm and needy hole to his eyes.

“fuck, how could i assume–”

mattheo grasped the base of his cock and, stepping closer to you, he immediately brushed the tip of his cock across your folds, gathering and spreading your wetness around.

“–that i can replace you–”

just to torture you back, he pushed his shaft against your pulsing hole, applying enough pressure for you to feel him, but not enough to enter you.

“–with a mere toy?”

“please, mattheo…”

and there it was, you begging. exactly what he was waiting for.

with your sweet plea on your lips, mattheo finally thrusted inside of you. impatient as ever, he stuffed you full from the beginning, reaching the deepest part of your cunt and hitting that sensitive spot with his tip.

“fuck, it’s so hot.”

ah, you were stuffed to the brim.

“and your walls are sucking me in.”

you could feel every vein and ridge on his cock, pressing deliciously against you.

“loosen up, sweetheart. shit. i can’t move.”

and you did your best to listen, but your hungry pussy was sucking him in like a vice. with your cunt gripping tightly around his shaft, mattheo managed to pull out only halfway.

“i won’t last long, baby.”

and then he thrusted back in. hard. pushing your entire body forward and ruining any sort of balance in your upper body, you fell on the mattress face down.

“fuck, you feel amazing!”

“never keep this pussy away from me, you hear me?”

his rhythm was now constant, jutting his hips into yours at a desperate pace.

“i will have this pussy breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

mattheo's guttural promise echoed in your ears as his hips picked up the pace.

carnal desire was evident in the way he was pounding into you — with unrestrained force. your body instinctively arched more and more against him, wishing to never be separated from his body ever again.

the slapping sounds of flesh on flesh was the only prevalent sound, sometimes joined by moans, gasps and whines. your face was completely buried in the mattress, lips even biting at the bedsheets in an attempt to muffle some of your pornographic noises.

mattheo saw that and did not like it one bit.

“bad fucking girl!”

your entire upper body was lifted from the bed in one smooth movement, mattheo’s strong arms sneaking around your torso and neck. his right arm was gripping at your midpoint, steadying you.

his other arm, however, put your head in a nice meaty headlock.

“let me hear you, sweetheart!”

tightening his hold on you, his arm immediately flexed around your neck, pushing his hard bicep closer to your face.

“ah, mattheo.”

“yeah, baby. gonna cum?”

the new position allowed mattheo to reach even deeper, kissing your cervix with his aggressive thrusts. he was throbbing, ready to orgasm a second time that day.

“let me make you cum.” he whispered softly against your face, placing a half-peck on the shell of your ear.

and with that, he lowered his hand from your torso to your pussy, locating your pulsing nub and drawing fast circles on it.

“oh my god i'm–”

and he was too. his hips slammed faster and faster into your cunt, sloppily thrusting until the very end.

“don’t move!” he grunted aggressively in your ear.

mattheo could feel you spasming, trying to run away from him. but he had to fill you up. he had to cream your pussy for real.

“take it all, sweetheart. be a good fucktoy for me!”

and you couldn’t go against him even if you wanted to. his big arms were securely holding your body in place.

so you stilled your hips as best as you could, settling nicely into his body, allowing mattheo to paint your insides with his cum.

and make a big mess, just like he did with the fleshlight.

•••

“i am throwing away the fleshlight!”

“oh, so i did better than it?”

“you’re insane for even asking.”

©dearmisshoney 2025. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

tags: @downbad4reid, @cafechichay, @lov3notts

[prncssguya]

on hwang in-ho/front man, seong gi-hun and their dynamic.

first, idk why people are getting so upset at other people calling gi-hun dumb, we were told that in the first season. lol being bright is not his strongest trait but he has a good heart and we love that about him. however, he is still an idealistic gullible idiot with a gambling problem. except this time his gambling addiction is backed by a sense of justice and righteousness and he no longer gambles with money, he’s gambling with people’s lives. front man asked a good question at the end of the season, “did you have fun playing the hero?” can we even call gi-hun the hero of the story anymore? he gambled with people’s lives and front man showed him the consequences of his moral heroics.

front man only agreed to help gi-hun with his revolution when he mentioned about "small sacrifices for the greater good". i think he reveled in the fact that the “good guy” was willing to allow a few innocent people to die for the greater good to stop the games, which is exactly what the entire VIP theory is to rid the world of 'trash' to improve the world. notice how gi-hun's moral code and belief also changed, from being "nobody should die" into "yeah small sacrifice is okay as long it's for the greater good" at this point, he just proved that front man's belief is actually valid. AND he gets more of his own people killed in the pointless battle with the soldiers that they had no chance of winning. now he gets to feel responsible for all those deaths and the death of his friend and for whatever additional torture they cook up in the next games (as punishment for the escape attempt).

now on hwang in-ho, i believe he was once a good man and the story he told gi-hun was the truth. but in the end he lost a kidney, lost a wife, a baby, lost his money, got fucked over by the wrong people and got into serious debt and had to play this game to help his wife and probably it was too late to save her. he might have played the games like gi-hun but saw how ruthless and greedy people are and resolved that they don't deserve help

i don’t think in-ho wants/will kill gi-hun, but he wants him to understand things from his perspective and show him that his compassion for the people in the games is foolish. you can tell the frontmen (the old man and in-ho) are extremely fond of gi hun. not only did he protect their original front man when nobody else did, he then won the games and thus their respect as he is now as rich as them. he's no longer "trash", he’s an elite like them. i think they both actually kept tabs on him after he won (i wonder if they do that for all winners? inserting them with gps chips?) because they knew he had not used his reward money and in-ho wanted gi-hun to get on the plane and be happy with his daughter

there’s one interesting aspect of the games that makes front man such a complex character. the fact that they’re operating a organ transplant trafficking network. in a way, he’s creating some good to come from a really fucked up situation. but is it really for the good of others who desperately need it, people like his wife, like his brother? or is it just a money making scheme?

either way, i don’t think there is going to be a redemption arc for in-ho, he’s too far gone. we may get to see more of his human side if he manages to see jun-ho again. the only time we’ve seen genuine emotions from him was when he shot his brother like he seemed distraught

the real cliffhanger for me, is will gi-hun stay true to his belief that people can be good, or will he be forever changed into a villain and become the next front man…? after the events of this season i don’t see how his will doesn’t shatter. he’s witnessed how humanity consistently chose money over survival, he’s lost two close friends, his mother, abandoned his daughter. he has gained nothing from wanting to stop the games and this clearly feels like an origin story for the next front man. it’s clear the front man has won this round and i think squid game will either die with 001 or continue with gi-hun as game master

another thing i find funny that i don’t see many mention is how gi-hun is like the luckiest guy in the fucking world. but i don’t think him being alive this long is plot armor, it makes sense. the games exist for the entertainment of rich sadists who have so much money they don't know what to do with it (remember what old 001 said in s1 about life being no fun for both people with no money and people with too much money). and i’d imagine killing hundreds of poor debt-ridden fools year after year gets boring. especially when said fools are desperate enough to gamble with their lives because they think they can beat the system by playing better than everyone else and surviving and getting the money.

gihun is different because he got the money, got out, and still came back. not because he's unfeeling or because he wants more money, but because he's still convinced he can beat the system.

if you're a rich bored gazillionaire, would you rather watch some randos die or would you rather watch this exceptional idiot fail again and again until he learns that his ideals are meaningless and people are inherently greedy and equality is a myth and people at the bottom of the barrel don't get to question the system?

if you're an asshole gazillionaire, you don't want someone to challenge you and just get away with it. you want to hand them 45.6 billion won and make them go away quietly, traumatized, after breaking them psychologically by making them do horrible things until they understand they're just powerless "horses". if they insist on challenging you and your system and your beliefs (money = boundless power), you teach them a lesson and show them their place in the most manipulative and cruel way possible. if gihun dies right away, that's boring. so he can't die, he needs to suffer. he needs to concede defeat.

also, i find it funny how people are comparing hwang inho and gihun dynamic to hannibal and will graham. makes sense, their whole cat and mouse game, front man hiding his true nature from gi-hun the same way hannibal does, trying to corrupt the righteous protagonist, sowing chaos, testing him and observing his behavior like a lab rat, the crazy tension and staring contests, the gaslighting and manipulation. and with the fact that they think lee byung-hun looks like mads mikkelsen. i never put the two of them together but now i can’t unsee it lol

[healthnews101]

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[reasonsforhope]

"When bloodstream infections set in, fast treatment is crucial — but it can take several days to identify the bacteria responsible. A new, rapid-diagnosis sepsis test could cut down on the wait, reducing testing time from as much as a few days to about 13 hours by cutting out a lengthy blood culturing step, researchers report July 24 [2024] in Nature.

“They are pushing the limits of rapid diagnostics for bloodstream infections,” says Pak Kin Wong, a biomedical engineer at Penn State who was not involved in the research. “They are driving toward a direction that will dramatically improve the clinical management of bloodstream infections and sepsis.”

Sepsis — an immune system overreaction to an infection — is a life-threatening condition that strikes nearly 2 million people per year in the United States, killing more than 250,000 (SN: 5/18/08). The condition can also progress to septic shock, a steep drop in blood pressure that damages the kidneys, lungs, liver and other organs. It can be caused by a broad range of different bacteria, making species identification key for personalized treatment of each patient.

In conventional sepsis testing, the blood collected from the patient must first go through a daylong blood culturing step to grow more bacteria for detection. The sample then goes through a second culture for purification before undergoing testing to find the best treatment. During the two to three days required for testing, patients are placed on broad-spectrum antibiotics — a blunt tool designed to stave off a mystery infection that’s better treated by targeted antibiotics after figuring out the specific bacteria causing the infection.

Nanoengineer Tae Hyun Kim and colleagues found a way around the initial 24-hour blood culture.

The workaround starts by injecting a blood sample with nanoparticles decorated with a peptide designed to bind to a wide range of blood-borne pathogens. Magnets then pull out the nanoparticles, and the bound pathogens come with them. Those bacteria are sent directly to the pure culture. Thanks to this binding and sorting process, the bacteria can grow faster without extraneous components in the sample, like blood cells and the previously given broad-spectrum antibiotics, says Kim, of Seoul National University in South Korea.

Cutting out the initial blood culturing step also relies on a new imaging algorithm, Kim says. To test bacteria’s susceptibility to antibiotics, both are placed in the same environment, and scientists observe if and how the antibiotics stunt the bacteria’s growth or kill them. The team’s image detection algorithm can detect subtler changes than the human eye can. So it can identify the species and antibiotic susceptibility with far fewer bacteria cells than the conventional method, thereby reducing the need for long culture times to produce larger colonies.

Though the new method shows promise, Wong says, any new test carries a risk of false negatives, missing bacteria that are actually present in the bloodstream. That in turn can lead to not treating an active infection, and “undertreatment of bloodstream infection can be fatal,” he says. “While the classical blood culture technique is extremely slow, it is very effective in avoiding false negatives.”

Following their laboratory-based experiments, Kim and colleagues tested their new method clinically, running it in parallel with conventional sepsis testing on 190 hospital patients with suspected infections. The testing obtained a 100 percent match on correct bacterial species identification, the team reports. Though more clinical tests are needed, these accuracy results are encouraging so far, Kim says.

The team is continuing to refine their design in hopes of developing a fully automated sepsis blood test that can quickly produce results, even when hospital laboratories are closed overnight. “We really wanted to commercialize this and really make it happen so that we could make impacts to the patients,” Kim says."

-via Science News, July 24, 2024

[cloakedsparrow]

Red Hood climbs up onto a roof with the intention of watching some drug smugglers below, only to find Robin, crouched in the perfect hiding space Jason had noticed. The boy is eating fries from a curled down Batburgers bag and sipping a Riddler Shake.

Jason: What are you doing here, Boy Wonder?

Tim: Probably the same thing you are. Spying on criminals.

Jason: ...

Tim: Want some fries? They're Jokerized, just to warn you.

Jason: Why?

Tim: Kon-El got some to try the last time he sneaked into Gotham and it turns out they're really good.

Jason: No, why would you offer me fries?

Tim: I have enough to share and I can always buy more?

Jason: Why are you being nice to me?

Tim: I'm offering fries, not a kidney. Why wouldn't I?

Jason: Because of the knife to the throat or, you know, that time I beat you within an inch of your life?

Tim: ...

Jason: ...

Tim: What the fuck was your time as Robin like?

Jason: The fuck?

Tim: A mentally unstable individual violently attacked me because he was scared or mad at Batman. That's like a bi-monthly occurrence for me, minimum. At least you were really insane and want to get better now-

Jason: I never said I wanted to stop killing.

Tim: I said get better. You want to be in control of yourself instead of being all Lazarus crazy, right?

Jason: Yes. But that doesn't mean I won't kill.

Tim: That's still wanting to get better. You think half the rouges who rotate through Arkham are actually trying to get better by even that much?

Jason: No.

Tim: Me, either. So that makes you an improvement over the usual. Plus, you know, the trauma from being murdered and all.

Jason: That's not an excuse to attack a kid.

Tim: No, but it's an explanation, which, again, is better than the usual. And you're showing signs of genuine remorse. That's huge around here. How often do we get that?

Jason: Anyone ever tell you your standards are kinda fucked up?

Tim: They'd have to pay closer attention for that.

Jason: Fucking what?

Tim: Doesn't matter. It's not like you're going to talk to anyone and even if you did, who'd believe you?

Jason: ...

Tim: So, you want some fries?

Jason: Yeah, sure.

Jason: These are good.

Tim: Right?

Jason: Is this nori?

Tim: Uh-huh; with paprika, kosher salt, and msg. I think there might be something else in there, but I haven't been able to place it.

Jason: Potato starch.

Tim: Oh, that makes sense.

Jason: I am definitely Jokerizing my fries from now on.

Tim: Try them with the Riddler Shake, too. The mint really compliments them.

Jason: I'll do that.

Tim: Wait. Doesn't that guy work for Black Mask?

Jason: Yes, he does.

Tim: So...want to pull a World's Finest?

Jason: A what?

Tim: You know, a team-up?

Jason: You-? Fucking- You know what? Sure. Let's pull a World's Finest. *under his breath* Little freak.

[miaoua3]

(pairing: dino x f!reader)

based on that one video of vernon trying the food that dino made and immediately thinking it’s bad when vernon said that it’s chewy oh my baby how i love you

“babe? could you come here for a second?”, chan lets out from the kitchen, his voice sounding unsure and hesitant.

sensing that this is more than just a favour you could do for him, you get up and walk to where he’s standing in front of a stove.

looking at him expectedly, you smile “yes? what is it, love?”.

fidgeting with the spoon for a moment, he then takes a bit of a food from the pot, before he blows on it to cool it down. slowly bringing it to your mouth, he questions “could you try this and tell me how it tastes? i’m not sure if it’s all that up to your tastes.”

you just take ahold of his wrist before bringing the spoon in your mouth, choosing not to respond to his question and instead just do it.

you chew on it for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowing in concentration, trying to identify everything that he put in it.

hm, maybe a bit more salt would be good you think to yourself.

before you even have the time to open your mouth to sound your thoughts out loud, he interrupts you.

“i knew it, it tastes bad right? i’ll just throw it out a-and we can just order something-“.

sensing that he’s spiralling quickly, you immediately bring your hands to his cheeks and turn his head to yourself.

“hey, hey, hey, baby no, that’s not what i was going to say. i just thought that it could use a bit more salt but otherwise everything is fine, it tastes super yummy.”

chan just looks down to his feet that are fidgeting lightly. you look him with eyes full of pain before you move closer, leaning your forehead against his own so his eyes are forced to look at your own again.

“channie, my love, what is this about really? you know you don’t need to stress this much over some food. plus, you know that i would eat anything you’d make for me, because everything you make tastes divine.”

chan’s hands come to fiddle with the hem of your shirt, insecurity very visible on his face. you rub your thumbs against his soft cheeks as you wait for him to answer you.

after a minute, he finally quietly says “i know i’m not the best cook, so i just wanted to make you something as a way to improve my cooking skills, so you wouldn’t have to do it all the time, like you are doing at the moment…and what kind of boyfriend am i when i can’t even make anything that you like?…”.

your eyebrows furrow on their own as he continues to speak, heart breaking at how broken and sad his voice sounds.

deciding that you have heard enough, you bring his big and buff body down to your height, hugging him tightly as a way to reassure him.

you sigh before you start speaking against his ear “oh my love, you have to stop being so hard on yourself, baby. you know you are the best boyfriend there is, especially for me. you do so much for me, that i actually feel like i’m not doing enough for you. you are always there for me, you take care of me both emotionally and physically. i haven’t paid for anything ever since our third date, and you know how that makes me feel. the cooking…it’s the only thing i know i can do to repay you for being my perfect other half and for everything that you do. so it’s really not a problem for me.”, you pause so you can being his face in front of your own again. “you need to start believing me when i say that nobody could take care of me the way that you do, nor that i want them to…you are my soulmate, sweetheart, okay?”, you finish.

chan has to blink his tears away as he nods his head quickly before he hugs you tightly, hiding his face in your hair.

rubbing his back in comfort, you add “plus you shouldn’t be cooking according to my tastes, you know i like my food so salty, it gives me kidney stones.”, as a way to lighten up the mood.

and as he chuckles, you know that you’ve succeeded in doing it.

then again, if that hadn’t work, you would’ve tried another 200 different jokes, just to make him smile again.

because channie should only be smiling and be happy. because it’s what he deserves.

[omniscient3teabag]

NEED there to be like, a party or something after an alien invasion and like someone brought alcohol to the watchtower and like usually captain marvel doesn't drink because ??? billy's like 10 alcohol tastes like absolute chicken butt to him but Zeus is like " drink drink drink " and the other gods(minus Solomon,, someone has to be the rational one there) join in and go " DRINK DRINK DRINK !!! " like they cheering for the Olympus world cup

and captain is like " eh ok sure " and decides to see how much alcohol he could drink in the span of 2 minutes or less. and so that spirals into almost every member of the Justice League witnessing THE Boy Scout™️—that no one has EVER saw drink a drop of wine—chugging down each glass like it's no tomorrow,,, and it's kinda impressive..

of course. captain stops (only because he didn't want to finish it all,,, plus the alcohol he just drank doesn't even taste like the rum from the 1950s,, so, even if it doesn't taste like chicken butt it still doesn't taste great either) but like hey at least the gods were having a blast!!! (they were a bit bummed captain had to stop though) (solomon felt like he could actually breath again after that)

and the jl??? respect the ever living shit out of him because god fucking damn captain marvel just walked off and continued whatever he was doing afterwards like he didn't just chug down fifty glasses of booze,, (he just doesn't have a liver or kidney to damage nor mind to get drunk off LMAOO)

and then they were like . huh. How much liquor can cap hold??? so they all get a bit curious .. and try to see how many more shots could he take ,,, and then it somehow just spirals into a long, nasty competition, one person just straight up bringing a barrel of rum for captain to try

and marvel?? he finds it kinda funny. the alcohol doesn't really affect him anyways and if he just turns off his taste buds he can pretend it's water most of the time. plus a good past time if there's nothing to do. but he does like giving out his thanks and reviews on the taste of it most times

,, and maybe the utmost eagerness that shows in Captain Marvel's face whenever a member wants him to try a very VERY strong concoction full of alcohol that'd probably kill a horse if a sip was taken by a normal civilian and how sincere he is on the way he pats their heads and gives out actual advice on how to improve it (thank you Solomon) was KINDA nice. just a tad bit nice.

oh who's pretending at this point, the competition at the end of the day just waters down into how many drinks??gifts??? the line blurs to a certain point ,, they could give to marvel and to see how many compliments they could get from marvel. they all know at this point that the drinks can't really affect him anyways. plus plus!!! captain would give the extra rum leftover into a tiny-ish water bottle made of magic and brings it with him everywhere, strapped to his waist like fanny pack. no one questions this. we love you capdad

(most of the gods living rent free in cm's head fucking cheer when one day billy gets gifted booze that could affect the gods)

[l3irdl3rain]

Hi! How is Kenny feeling? Are his kidneys any better?

He's doing fine and we've managed to slow the progression at least a little bit. He's also has a good appetite. His kidneys will not improve though, they are what they are.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

There’s no such thing as “shareholder supremacy”

On SEPTEMBER 24th, I'll be speaking IN PERSON at the BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY!

Here's a cheap trick: claim that your opponents' goals are so squishy and qualitative that no one will ever be able to say whether they've been succeeded or failed, and then declare that your goals can be evaluated using crisp, objective criteria.

This is the whole project of "economism," the idea that politics, with its emphasis on "fairness" and other intangibles, should be replaced with a mathematical form of economics, where every policy question can be reduced to an equation…and then "solved":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/28/imagine-a-horse/#perfectly-spherical-cows-of-uniform-density-on-a-frictionless-plane

Before the rise of economism, it was common to speak of its subjects as "political economy" or even "moral philosophy" (Adam Smith, the godfather of capitalism, considered himself a "moral philosopher"). "Political economy" implicitly recognizes that every policy has squishy, subjective, qualitative dimensions that don't readily boil down to math.

For example, if you're asking about whether people should have the "freedom" to enter into contracts, it might be useful to ask yourself how desperate your "free" subject might be, and whether the entity on the other side of that contract is very powerful. Otherwise you'll get "free contracts" like "I'll sell you my kidneys if you promise to evacuate my kid from the path of this wildfire."

The problem is that power is hard to represent faithfully in quantitative models. This may seem like a good reason to you to be skeptical of modeling, but for economism, it's a reason to pretend that the qualitative doesn't exist. The method is to incinerate those qualitative factors to produce a dubious quantitative residue and do math on that:

https://locusmag.com/2021/05/cory-doctorow-qualia/

Hence the famous Ely Devons quote: "If economists wished to study the horse, they wouldn’t go and look at horses. They’d sit in their studies and say to themselves, ‘What would I do if I were a horse?’"

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/27/economism/#what-would-i-do-if-i-were-a-horse

The neoliberal revolution was a triumph for economism. Neoliberal theorists like Milton Friedman replaced "political economy" with "law and economics," the idea that we should turn every one of our complicated, nuanced, contingent qualitative goals into a crispy defined "objective" criteria. Friedman and his merry band of Chicago School economists replaced traditional antitrust (which sought to curtail the corrupting power of large corporations) with a theory called "consumer welfare" that used mathematics to decide which monopolies were "efficient" and therefore good (spoiler: monopolists who paid Friedman's pals to do this mathematical analysis always turned out to be running "efficient" monopolies):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/20/we-should-not-endure-a-king/

One of Friedman's signal achievements was the theory of "shareholder supremacy." In 1970, the New York Times published Friedman's editorial "The Social Responsibility of Business Is to Increase Its Profits":

https://www.nytimes.com/1970/09/13/archives/a-friedman-doctrine-the-social-responsibility-of-business-is-to.html

In it, Friedman argued that corporate managers had exactly one job: to increase profits for shareholders. All other considerations – improving the community, making workers' lives better, donating to worthy causes or sponsoring a little league team – were out of bounds. Managers who wanted to improve the world should fund their causes out of their paychecks, not the corporate treasury.

Friedman cloaked his hymn to sociopathic greed in the mantle of objectivism. For capitalism to work, corporations have to solve the "principal-agent" problem, the notoriously thorny dilemma created when one person (the principal) asks another person (the agent) to act on their behalf, given the fact that the agent might find a way to line their own pockets at the principal's expense (for example, a restaurant server might get a bigger tip by offering to discount diners' meals).

Any company that is owned by stockholders and managed by a CEO and other top brass has a huge principal-agent problem, and yet, the limited liability, joint-stock company had produced untold riches, and was considered the ideal organization for "capital formation" by Friedman et al. In true economismist form, Friedman treated all the qualitative questions about the duty of a company as noise and edited them out of the equation, leaving behind a single, elegant formulation: "a manager is doing their job if they are trying to make as much money as possible for their shareholders."

Friedman's formulation was a hit. The business community ran wild with it. Investors mistook an editorial in the New York Times for an SEC rulemaking and sued corporate managers on the theory that they had a "fiduciary duty" to "maximize shareholder value" – and what's more, the courts bought it. Slowly and piecemeal at first, but bit by bit, the idea that rapacious greed was a legal obligation turned into an edifice of legal precedent. Business schools taught it, movies were made about it, and even critics absorbed the message, insisting that we needed to "repeal the law" that said that corporations had to elevate profit over all other consideration (not realizing that no such law existed).

It's easy to see why shareholder supremacy was so attractive for investors and their C-suite Renfields: it created a kind of moral crumple-zone. Whenever people got angry at you for being a greedy asshole, you could shrug and say, "My hands are tied: the law requires me to run the business this way – if you don't believe me, just ask my critics, who insist that we must get rid of this law!"

In a long feature for The American Prospect, Adam M Lowenstein tells the story of how shareholder supremacy eventually came into such wide disrepute that the business lobby felt that it had to do something about it:

https://prospect.org/power/2024-09-17-ponzi-scheme-of-promises/

It starts in 2018, when Jamie Dimon and Warren Buffett decried the short-term, quarterly thinking in corporate management as bad for business's long-term health. When Washington Post columnist Steve Pearlstein wrote a column agreeing with them and arguing that even moreso, businesses should think about equities other than shareholder returns, Jamie Dimon lost his shit and called Pearlstein to call it "the stupidest fucking column I’ve ever read":

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2018/06/07/will-ending-quarterly-earnings-guidance-free-ceos-to-think-long-term/

But the dam had broken. In the months and years that followed, the Business Roundtable would adopt a series of statements that repudiated shareholder supremacy, though of course they didn't admit it. Rather, they insisted that they were clarifying that they'd always thought that sometimes not being a greedy asshole could be good for business, too. Though these statements were nonbinding, and though the CEOs who signed them did so in their personal capacity and not on behalf of their companies, capitalism's most rabid stans treated this as an existential crisis.

Lowenstein identifies this as the forerunner to today's panic over "woke corporations" and "DEI," and – just as with "woke capitalism" – the whole thing amounted to a a PR exercise. Lowenstein links to several studies that found that the CEOs who signed onto statements endorsing "stakeholder capitalism" were "more likely to lay off employees during COVID-19, were less inclined to contribute to pandemic relief efforts, had 'higher rates of environmental and labor-related compliance violations,”' emitted more carbon into the atmosphere, and spent more money on dividends and buybacks."

One researcher concluded that "signing this statement had zero positive effect":

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/08/companies-stand-solidarity-are-licensing-themselves-discriminate/614947

So shareholder supremacy isn't a legal obligation, and statements repudiating shareholder supremacy don't make companies act any better.

But there's an even more fundamental flaw in the argument for the shareholder supremacy rule: it's impossible to know if the rule has been broken.

The shareholder supremacy rule is an unfalsifiable proposition. A CEO can cut wages and lay off workers and claim that it's good for profits because the retained earnings can be paid as a dividend. A CEO can raise wages and hire more people and claim it's good for profits because it will stop important employees from defecting and attract the talent needed to win market share and spin up new products.

A CEO can spend less on marketing and claim it's a cost-savings. A CEO can spend more on marketing and claim it's an investment. A CEO can eliminate products and call it a savings. A CEO can add products and claim they're expansions into new segments. A CEO can settle a lawsuit and claim they're saving money on court fees. A CEO can fight a lawsuit through to the final appeal and claim that they're doing it to scare vexatious litigants away by demonstrating their mettle.

CEOs can use cheaper, inferior materials and claim it's a savings. They can use premium materials and claim it's a competitive advantage that will produce new profits. Everything a company does can be colorably claimed as an attempt to save or make money, from sponsoring the local little league softball team to treating effluent to handing ownership of corporate landholdings to perpetual trusts that designate them as wildlife sanctuaries.

Bribes, campaign contributions, onshoring, offshoring, criminal conspiracies and conference sponsorships – there's a business case for all of these being in line with shareholder supremacy.

Take Boeing: when the company smashed its unions and relocated key production to scab plants in red states, when it forced out whistleblowers and senior engineers who cared about quality, when it outsourced design and production to shops around the world, it realized a savings. Today, between strikes, fines, lawsuits, and a mountain of self-inflicted reputational harm, the company is on the brink of ruin. Was Boeing good to its shareholders? Well, sure – the shareholders who cashed out before all the shit hit the fan made out well. Shareholders with a buy-and-hold posture (like the index funds that can't sell their Boeing holdings so long as the company is in the S&P500) got screwed.

Right wing economists criticize the left for caring too much about "how big a slice of the pie they're getting" rather than focusing on "growing the pie." But that's exactly what Boeing management did – while claiming to be slaves to Friedman's shareholder supremacy. They focused on getting a bigger slice of the pie, screwing their workers, suppliers and customers in the process, and, in so doing, they made the pie so much smaller that it's in danger of disappearing altogether.

Here's the principal-agent problem in action: Boeing management earned bonuses by engaging in corporate autophagia, devouring the company from within. Now, long-term shareholders are paying the price. Far from solving the principal-agent problem with a clean, bright-line rule about how managers should behave, shareholder supremacy is a charter for doing whatever the fuck a CEO feels like doing. It's the squishiest rule imaginable: if someone calls you cruel, you can blame the rule and say you had no choice. If someone calls you feckless, you can blame the rule and say you had no choice. It's an excuse for every season.

The idea that you can reduce complex political questions – like whether workers should get a raise or whether shareholders should get a dividend – to a mathematical rule is a cheap sleight of hand. The trick is an obvious one: the stuff I want to do is empirically justified, while the things you want are based in impossible-to-pin-down appeals to emotion and its handmaiden, ethics. Facts don't care about your feelings, man.

But it's feelings all the way down. Milton Friedman's idol-worshiping cult of shareholder supremacy was never about empiricism and objectivity. It's merely a gimmick to make greed seem scientifically optimal.

The paperback edition of The Lost Cause, my nationally bestselling, hopeful solarpunk novel is out this month!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/18/falsifiability/#figleaves-not-rubrics/a>

[kaijutegu]

So. Now that she's home and safe and gonna be ok, I can talk about this.

I almost lost Kaiju. Christmas Day. I was woken up by a phone call from Allison, who will be referred to a LOT in this story. Allison runs the pet store where I board Kaiju. She called to tell me that Kaiju had lost a LOT of blood. (As it turns out, half her blood volume. Humans die when we lose 40%, just so you know. She lost 50%.)

There were no visible injuries, and she had passed a bloody stool. Or rather, a blood clot with some poop in it. She continued to pass only blood when they put her in the bathtub to clean her up. If I'd taken her anywhere else, that... would have been it, probably.

But Allison is an actual miracle worker and knew an emergency vet who was open- on Christmas Day- and could see reptiles. As soon as she called me, she took her to the e vet, where they gave her fluids and oxygen and got her stable. They did some x rays and found... nothing.

In fact, the e vet actually complimented me on her bone density and how nice her toe joints look. Whatever this mysterious haemorrhage was, it was in the soft tissue.

The immediate thoughts were:

Impaction

Cancer invading an artery

Aneurism

Reproductive issues

However, the emergency vet couldn't figure it out, and my vet was out of the country. The e vet consulted with a lot of vets and it was decided she'd go into Chicago Exotics for care the next day- they were willing to see her on immediate notice. Allison drove her over and they did an ultrasound... and couldn't differentiate the mass they found.

So, exploratory surgery it was.

But... she didn't have enough blood for that. She wouldn't have survived... if Allison hadn't found blood for her. Tegu donors were found, the transfusion happened, and was completely successful.

And what the surgery found was completely unexpected. No cancer. No repro issues. No typical impaction.

Instead? Weird white things in her muscles and a partial impaction that seems to be related to a reduction in her ability to properly digest. There are two possible diagnoses at this point. One is visceral gout. This is very strange because in reptiles, articular gout basically always happens first, and her kidneys are fine.

The other option? Weird, potentially cross species parasite she picked up when she was in the Everglades. Something she's likely had all her life, something that was dormant until recently.

I'll know when the pathology report comes back in a week or so.

Anyways! She is doing very well. She is alert and interested in things. She has an incredible appetite, even though she can't have solid food yet. She's on three meds, including one I have to inject. At her three week recheck, we will add a fourth- either the correct anti-parasitic or a medication to improve kidney function, depending on the diagnosis. Currently she's in a hospital cage and she hates it- she can't have any substrate because of the stitches.

The vet says it should take about three months until she makes her full blood volume. Her pack cell count should be at 35%. It was at 7% on the 26th. But by the 28th, it was at 10%. She's gonna be ok. She's tough. My little girl is a fighter, always has been. You have to be scrappy to survive in the wild.

And throughout this entire experience, everybody has told me how lovely her personality is. Through the injections and cloacal probing and everything, she never bit or even tried to. The vet didn't think she even wanted to bite. Like it wasn't a question of wanting to bite and not being strong enough- it's just not something in her behavioural repertoire. She doesn't bite because she doesn't want to. Because even at her most scared, at her most painful, she's still Kaiju, the best tegu to ever live. Love is stored in the tegu, and it continues to be stored in the tegu. We have a long road ahead of us, but she's out of the woods and is going to be ok. We both are.

Also, consider this a MAJOR plug for Curious Creatures in Chicago. I'm never going to board my animals anywhere else.