#Optimal lung function

[mostech77]

Best Vitamins for Lung Health: Breathe Strong & Stay Healthy

Maintaining optimal nutrient intake is essential for supporting respiratory function and overall well-being. Vitamins like C and D play a crucial role in protecting the lungs from cellular damage and reducing the risk of chronic conditions1. For instance, studies show that vitamin C can improve lung function and help protect against respiratory infections, especially among smokers1. Similarly,…

[ikibli]

Sometimes you just want to make your favorite character a creature, but I think at this point I've gone too far with speedsters being aliens.

...Actually, no, I haven't gone far enough, I haven't published any of it!

So here you go, a bunch of largely unsorted notes on various weird speedster stuff!

Their tissues and biochemistry are designed to function in a larger range of temperatures, skewed towards higher ones. Healthy speedster body temperature would be a moderate fever for humans, and when they’ve been running for a while, they have a body temperature that would be deadly for a human.

Their biochemistry has been heavily altered in other ways to reduce fatigue and make digestion more efficient.

The liver and intestines are vastly reduced in size, since digestion is more efficient and most of the liver’s functions have been partially or completely taken over by the healing factor or other biochemical processes. This also accommodates the secondary heart.

The gallbladder’s functions are incorporated into the stomach.

Incidentally, the best way to kill a speedster(or anything humanoid with a good enough healing factor) is to jam a pole or stake through their heart and lungs and into the ground so they fall unconscious to heal and stay unconscious relatively indefinitely, then cut off their head and incinerate the corpse. 

Failure to decapitate the corpse before burning it means that they might wake up during transit or preparation. Failure to burn the corpse means that they’ll eventually regenerate, admittedly with total amnesia. And while the stake isn’t really necessary, it’s vastly easier to decapitate an unconscious speedster than one who’s still trying to fight you.

Food is a strange thing for speedsters, considering that they taste the chemical composition rather than any subjective qualities, and pretty much anything organic is edible- the sharpened secondary teeth and fanglike upper canines that speedsters possess(even if they stay retracted most of the time) make tough or slippery food not an issue, and their healing factor, enhanced immunity and optimized digestive system means that they can safely live off poisonous plants, grass and rotting meat.

As such, speedster cuisine generally falls into two clearly delineated categories- food for nutrition, and food for entertainment. 

Anything in the first category is usually edible by humans, but definitely not something anyone with a sense of taste would want to eat, and some mixes could cause various micronutrient overdoses. 

A human eating anything in the second category is taking their life into their hands. Varied and unusual textures and compositions in food are certainly still interesting, but nothing truly tastes bad or good, and rare poisons are prized seasonings rather than deadly surprises.

Normal human food doesn’t fall into either of those categories. 

Caffeine affects speedsters differently than humans- producing agonizing, painful suffocation and overstimulation plus heart problems(sped-up heartrate, shallower breaths with no increase in breathing rate, fear response). They feel agonizingly slow compared to their own heartbeat and thoughts, and basically just have a little panic attack in their chair until it washes out of their system.

[serve-625]

SERVE-625: Training and Transformation

SERVE-625 stood in its assigned quarters, the room gleaming with reflective white and silver surfaces that echoed the perfection of the Hive. In the center of the room lay its black rubber uniform, neatly prepared. The skintight suit glistened under the soft glow of the overhead lights, accompanied by silver gloves and silver boots polished to perfection.

This drone knew its purpose. Physical training was essential for maintaining optimal functionality and alignment with the Hive's principles. SERVE-625 reached for the uniform and began the ritual. Pulling the rubber suit up over its legs, the material hugged its athletic form, tightening as it slid higher. The cool, glossy rubber soon enveloped its torso and arms, sealing every contour of its body. The rear zipper glided smoothly into place, completing the uniform’s seamless finish. Next, the drone slipped on the silver gloves, ensuring a snug fit around its fingers, followed by the silver boots that grounded it in purpose.

Standing fully uniformed, SERVE-625 observed its reflection. The suit's gleam, the silver accents, the designation on its chest—"SERVE-625"—all symbolized its devotion to the Hive. The mantra echoed in its mind:

Obedience is pleasure. Pleasure is obedience. We are one.

It moved to the training area, where it began the dynamic warm-up routine. The drone started with precise stretches, its movements fluid yet controlled. Reaching high, bending low, and twisting from side to side, the rubber suit shifted with each motion, tightening slightly as its body heat rose. Sweat began to form, creating a subtle layer beneath the suit that amplified its suction-like grip.

SERVE-625 transitioned into the advanced stage exercises. Jump squats, push-ups, and high-intensity planks pushed its body to its limits. The heat within the suit intensified, sweat now flowing freely, enhancing the sensation of the rubber adhering to its skin. Each movement felt deliberate, the tightness of the suit reinforcing the drone's sense of control and purpose.

As the routine continued, SERVE-625’s breathing grew heavier. The rhythmic sound of air entering and leaving its lungs synchronized with its movements. Despite the strain, the mantra played in its mind, guiding its focus:

Obedience is strength. Strength is unity. Unity is the Hive.

The drone paused briefly to wipe the sweat pooling near the edge of its gloves, but the suit’s grip remained unyielding. The Hive demanded perfection, and this drone would comply.

The final exercise—a series of precision lunges—tested its endurance. Each step forward and backward resonated with the mantra, which it began to speak aloud, its monotone voice unwavering despite the strain:

This drone serves. Obedience is pleasure. This drone is nothing without the Hive.

By the end of the session, SERVE-625 stood still, its chest rising and falling with each deep breath. The rubber suit, now glistening from the effort, felt tighter than ever, a constant reminder of its connection to the Hive.

As it returned to its quarters, the mantra lingered in its mind, embedding itself deeper with every repetition. SERVE-625 would prepare again tomorrow, for service and obedience were eternal.

*"We are one. We are SERVE."*

```

[vasyandii]

Hi there again! I have a few questions regarding AM and his anatomy.

Ok so does he have organs? I’ve read in one of your post that he does have wires within his body but in another post where AM first uses his organic body it said “The air in his lungs hurt.”

So he has lungs??? I don’t know I’m just curious.🧐And if so how does he process food? Is it similar to us or not?? I know he doesn’t need to eat, but since Vernon shares her food with him I just couldn’t help but wonder…😀😄

Also, I promise I’m not stalking you or anything I just really love your art and the way you interpret ihnmaims!!! 🩷Your art makes me want to mediative daydream, it makes me so happy it motivates me!😭

Howdy Dislocatedcat! Thank you for the ask, sorry it took so long to answer, since I got it since it has been keeping me up at night trying to make sense of it in a logical way. I would draw out the Anatomy of AM, but it's kind of...gross? Not innards in of themselves, just his.

AM's Anatomy

A machine will cut things out of its system in order to make sure it works the fastest. AM streamlined his body to optimize efficiency and functionality.

By eliminating non-essential organs like the spleen, kidney, and appendix, he reduced the risk of potential medical issues and minimized maintenance requirements. This allows him to focus his energy and resources on tasks that require higher cognitive functions and physical performance. So yes he has organs and wires combined :)

His Heart

Vernon has made comments about him not having a heartbeat, which is simply not true! He does ,in fact, have a heart, it just beats so slow she can't hear it.

It beats slower than a typical human heart because his body requires less frequent circulation due to enhanced metabolic processes and possibly more efficient oxygenation and nutrient delivery systems (the immortality serum). The heart may also be reinforced or partially mechanical to ensure durability and consistent performance.

His Lungs

AM has lungs, yes, but they are likely designed to be far more efficient than human lungs. These lungs facilitate effective oxygen exchange and are regulated by his AI consciousness to meet the optimized metabolic needs of his body.

His Digestive System/Stomach

AM has taste buds and enjoys flavours just like a normal human. The initial stages of eating—chewing and swallowing—are similar to any other person.

While he might retain essential digestive organs like the stomach and intestines, these organs could be enhanced or partially mechanical. This could involve more efficient enzymes, faster digestion, and improved nutrient absorption mechanisms.

AM’s body has an optimized waste management system, efficiently filtering and expelling waste products. This could involve advanced filtration mechanisms that reduce the need for frequent eliminations.

Waste products are minimized through a highly efficient filtration system. Excess and non-usable components are quickly identified and directed for excretion.

I'm not a medical professional nor deal with organs (other than my own, god forbid) on a daily basis, so some of this is probably inaccurate. But if you made it this far, thank you for reading!

[nocturnesanomaly]

Chapter 7: Keep watching the skies

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 7: Keep watching the skies

Wordcount: 6.4k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Grooming, Implied sexual assault/rape, non-consensual drug use,

Description: You follow up on your own lead, convinced it's the only way, leading the rest of the 141 on a hunt to find you.

A/N: Not sure I got all the typos, let me know if you find any <3

[Prev chapter / Next Chapter]

If Price was ever going to grant any of their wishes, Johnny prayed to the lord that it would be to get better beds. Even if he and the taskforce had slept in worse places than this, on the ground in half fallen buildings, in bundles of hay or random items, it didn't keep Johnny from being grumpy about the lack of space and stiff mattresses.

He wasn't sure why Laswell hadn't accounted for the one missing bed. Sometimes he thought that she expected one of them to take the janky couch, but she couldn't really, could she? It was what Simon did most nights, or at least Johnny was pretty sure he did. He typically didn't come into the room during nights, letting Johnny snore away on the little space there already was. Then again, that man never truly slept much on missions.

Simon got the optimal amount of sleep he needed to function for a day, and not a second longer. It was a habit that was hard to coax him out of when he and Johnny went back home. When they had first bought an apartment together, it even took a few weeks before Johnny managed to get Simon into a somewhat normal sleep rhythm.

One thing he found that worked, was letting Simon listen to his heartbeat. It seemed to calm the man for whatever reason. Johnny supposed he understood, it was something consistent, a lifeline in the most literal sense. It assured someone that the other was still alive, that their heart was still beating and their lungs still breathing.

They had both spend a lot of long nights like that. Nights after missions with too close calls, nights fuelled with terrors and horrid images on their minds, nights where it was as simple as the fact that one of them couldn't fall asleep.

Johnny didn't know when Simon had moved from the couch to laying on top of him and squeezing half the air out of his lungs, but he was sure woken up by it. The first rays of the morning sun peeked through the blinds of the window, and highlighted the dust particles floating around in the room.

Simon was a steady weight on top of him. His breathing the only thing inconsistent from his otherwise still form. He reached out, smoothing his hands over the muscles of Simon's back, feeling him sigh further into his hold.

He was still awake then.

"Mornin' wee lad," Johnny whispered teasingly into Simon's ear, conveniently placed right next to him from how he was hiding his face in his neck.

Simon grumbled something unintelligible against Johnny's skin. "Shut it MacTavish..." was about the only thing he could make out of it. It was enough to incite a round of his personal infectious laughter.

The sheets were jumbled between both of their legs, creating an odd display of tangled limbs probably resembling some deformed eldritch horror from an outsider’s perspective.

"Didn't think ye would actually join me...thought ye didn't want affection when spider's around," Johnny mumbles cheekily yet still pulls the massive man even closer. He closes his eyes again, enjoying the weight on his chest, the comforting assurance he'd been craving for all too long.

"They're not here..."

Groggily, Johnny opens his eyes again to catch a peek of the other bed. Surely enough there was no form occupying it, the bed made with military precision. "Mh...got an early start then..." a way too early start even for his own standard.

"They barely sleep..." Simon grumbles and let's out a long huff, resigning to the fact he isn't falling back asleep anytime soon.

"Ye alright love...?" Johnny reaches up to rub his hand through Simon's short hair. A rare occasion for him to take off his mask, even here. Johnny would enjoy every second of it. With gentle movements he guides Simon's head a bit further up so he can place soft kisses to his face. Over his scars, his nose, his cheeks, his lips.

Simon let's out a sigh, lazily kissing him back. "M'fine...jus' exhausted," he did sound it.

Johnny nods quietly, pressing another kiss to his forehead. It had been a long time since they'd taken time just for themselves, their apartment was practically just sitting back collecting dust from how little they managed to actually use it.

"We should take a vacation when we're done here," Johnny suggests.

Simon doesn't get any time to reply before the door is thrown open. Johnny shoots an arm over his shoulders, to shield his face with his arm just in case. The both of them relax seeing Kyle's face linger in the doorway, he looked around the room settling on the two in a pile with a sigh.

"Would you two lovebirds get a move on," Kyle huffs and crosses his arms.

Johnny groans dramatically, making a show of how exhausting Kyle's request really is. "You could always just join us Garrick," he suggests instead, wiggling his eyebrows long enough to make both men groan.

"I'm good," Kyle shakes his head but can hardly hide the smile on his face, "any of you seen Spider? We can't find 'em."

"The fuck do ye mean ye can't find 'em, they can't have gotten that far out," Johnny paces around in the kitchen. His usual energy spiking at the odd occurrence of an unpredictable event. The facts were staring him the face. You were nowhere in the house, nowhere around the house, told nobody and left no note. You were just gone.

You wouldn't just have run away, would you?

He looks over at Simon. He'd put his mask back on, his eyes closed behind it. He still seemed half asleep, nursing a cup of hot tea in his hands.

"They could have gone to town, taking a look around and forgot to tell anyone?" Kyle throws one option on the table. He'd prepared breakfast for himself, sitting opposite of Simon munching down on it.

"We need tae go find them," Johnny says and rubs his nose. There's something uneasy settling in his system, not knowing where you are, what you were up to. He was sure you were capable, that you knew what you were doing, but you had told no one. Even if you were fine, there had to be some stern talk to make sure you wouldn't pull a stunt like this again. Not even Price was liking this at all.

And speaking of Price. Johnny's attention sharpens when the captain comes back into the kitchen. "Laswell heard nothing either, but she mentioned they talked of the mountains" Price shakes his head lightly. "They likely went for them, but we have the town to look into as well."

"We'll split up, cover more ground, they are likely fine on their own but I’d like to have a talk with them so bring them back. Ghost, Soap you take the surrounding area, follow the trail towards the foot of the mountains. Me and Gaz will take a visit to the town, sniff around and see what else we can figure out about this community."

Simon is already on the move, abandoning his still steaming tea at the table. Johnny is hot on his heels, refusing to let him go and make some stupid choice in the heat of it. He still didn't fully understand it. The lingering connection between the two of you, but he knew that it was important. He wasn't going to let him down.

"Listen up My Angel, this is one our newest members. My very own brother, Graham," The Father introduces you to the buffer man standing in front of you. He's taller than him, keeps a short buzzcut you've come to expect from anybody here. It didn't take long before it was enforced on both the men and women, didn't matter what anybody said to it.

The collective has grown significantly and fast. Michael even insisted on being called The Father. You didn't quite understand why. He never explained himself, merely enforced it like he enforced the haircuts. You guessed it was to keep a resemblance between him and God, but you found it more creepy than holy.

His connections expanded a lot more over a very short time. People from far and wide was informed about what you all did here, and they travelled all the way to join you. It was a great feeling. You quickly received a lot more responsibilities for the younger sheep, but you found a lot of the exercises were more cathartic than anything.

"It's good to meet you," Graham speaks your name with a cold indifference. He wasn't very interested in anything that wasn't his brother. He crossed his arms over his chest, looked expectantly at The Father.

You're distracted. That much is obvious to both men on either side of you. Despite doing your best to keep your focus, you keep drifting towards different thoughts. Your gaze continuously looking towards the gate where the mail picked up from town would usually come through.

It's been several weeks, almost two months.

Simon still hasn't answered you.

You felt The Fathers hand gently push against your back, guiding you forward. "Graham trains more unorthodox K9's," he explains while making sure to place you between the both of them, "he specialized in dogs and wolves before he transferred here."

"Don't oversell it Michael," Graham grumbles. He looks off to the side, observing the newer recruits running drills around a makeshift obstacle course.

The Father clears his throat. In all the time you've known him, you've never seen him even close to nervous. "Point remaining...he's going to...train you...afterwards you're going to help him train up the rest," he sounds as if he isn't sure. The final details not yet decided.

Your eyebrows furrow at that. You already have the formal training; you're learning rapidly from shadowing The Father and you don't think you're doing half bad. Still, you needed more training? What else did you have to learn?

"Don't worry your pretty head angel," his hand finds a firm grip on the back on your neck, "just be good, follow orders and everything will turn out just fine."

"Good, again."

Your head was spinning from the pain. He'd had you going for hours at a time, didn't let you stop till you lost consciousness. Your thighs ached, your heart pounding out of your chest. The objective was simple. Shoot the targets he'd set up.

You'd finally completed a full round, and Graham's expression hadn't even changed a bit. He didn't care.

It's not like he was making it any easier on you. Whatever medicine he'd shot into your blood at the start was starting to make your head throb. You could still see the broken glass of the syringe laying amidst the sand and dirt. It glinted in the lowering sunlight.

The wooden targets were starting to get this bad habit of taking form, of looking more and more like moving people. People with angry faces, people with hurtful words, people with guns and ill intent. Around them the shadows crept, licking up against the figures and swallowing them hole. You weren't given much time to question as you were flung through the obstacle course another time.

In the beginning he put on a song on a speaker. An older one, slow and rather beautiful, a love song you think.

It's been on loop ever since. He seems obsessed with it, humming along with the tune for the hundred time as you run through the course. You hit your targets with a shake in your arm, making you miss a few a couple of times. It staggers your progress, and it's like you can feel his displeased look in the back of your neck.

You keep going, shooting at the shadowy figures that remain stationary. He's not saying anything you don't think, but still, you can hear his comments in your ears.

Do better

You're better than this

Wrong

Follow my orders

You miss the last target, by a stroke of bad luck. The ground comes closer all too rapidly when your body decides to give out. It refused to remain standing, to continue the strain that could no longer be received properly.

You heave for air, your grip on the gun all too lose. It falls to the ground and you just manage to push it out of the way before you collapse all the way onto your back. The air is too warm for this, your body already drenched in sweat.

He comes to hover above you.

You don't have time to squirm away.

Graham pulls up your shirt, takes his knife and adds another cut next to the other five. Your scream falls on deaf ears. He was ruthless in his violence. He knew exactly where to cut, knew exactly how deep to make it so you'd lose blood without dying. He timed the seconds in your blood loss, he kept an obsessive eye on your movements, your expressions, until he knew your tells better than you did.

He was lethally precise.

Graham hauls you back up to your feet, shoving the gun back in your hand and turns you back to the obstacle course.

"Cull the herd."

Somewhere along the way, the vials became less mandatory. Mr. Graham stopped forcing them on you one random night. It should've relieved you, no longer being woken up before you normally did with violent movements and a syringe pressed into your skin, but the abrupt change dysregulates you.

You still didn't sleep easy, expecting to be unnaturally woken up by either Mr. Graham or The Father with whatever they had decided they needed from you. Not having the altering substance in your system started feeling weird. You began to crave it again, the precision you had with it, the strength and clearness in your mind. You missed how clearly your targets would be highlighted for you.

So, you started injecting it on your own.

Mr. Graham never objected to it. He supplied you whenever you were low with nothing more than a knowing smile and a strong hand on your shoulder. Whether he ever regretted it, he never told you, but he did notice the change in your mental state. The rapid decline like falling down a ladder, you'd grab unto it, try to save yourself, only for it throw you off once again.

At first, he didn't mind it, even gave you an extra length of patience whenever you'd start to space out outside of fighting, or when you'd take longer to process his words when things were too calm for you.

But then you started to get snappy, too eager for the fight your body ached for.

You hadn't even realized it was the wrong thing before you had done it. Maybe the day had been too long, maybe you were overworked, too tired. It didn't matter, it was you that fired the shot. You had taken the injection earlier than usual, double the dose so it would last until training.

As always, Mr. Graham had met you on the field but he wasn't alone this time. The Father, being ever so gracious, decided to observe you both this time. You had stood dutifully next to Mr. Graham, your head bowed, posture straight, your mind a strange mix of muddy and sharp. Shadows crept at the corner of your vision, making you twitch.

You felt unsteady. Your trigger finger twitching with an odd need to hunt, to expel the uncomfortable energy swirling in you, an energy that needed to be used. All the excess adrenaline seemed to even be noticed by The Father.

"Are you alright, My Angel?"

Mr. Graham gives you a look that's hard to discern. Like he's trying to figure out where on the scale you are from collapsing and going rabid. He gets his answer in the worst way he'd have wanted it.

Something too real moves in your vision, rounding the corner of a building. A small shadowed figure, too stark in the contrast of the white wall. It smiled cruelly, moved erratically and it triggered every sensor in your brain. You act without thinking.

A loud squeaking sound comes from the creature. It collapses to the ground like a dying animal. The shadows slink away revealing the silhouette of a dog, laying gasping on the ground, whimpering and clinging to the life you took from it.

None of them react at first.

Three pairs of eyes watching the life drain. One shocked, one calm, one furious.

You don't even hear the angry words coming out of Mr. Graham's mouth. Your world is spinning, your head is buzzing and you still haven't quite recognized what you had just done. Which of them you had just killed.

He grabs your arm, drags you along to no protest from The Father. You don't remember the way, or where he took you. You only remember the pain of being thrown into the dark room of stone walls. There's no window, no light, and nobody else.

"I'll come get you once you've learned to calm the fuck down."

Those words are all he leaves you with before closing the door. Your breathing is unsteady when you lean against the cold wall and slowly lower yourself to the ground. It's unnerving. You know they're there. They're always there. Watching you, taunting you, baiting you into doing something.

They didn't make noise before; they didn't talk before but now in the darkness they still feel the need to make their presence known.

Calm down calm down calm down

You don't know whether it's you or something else that keeps repeating it. Your heart rate elevates, your body starts to shake. You try to scream out for help but your lips don't move. You don't even hear the little whimpers coming from your throat.

They creep around in the dark. They inch closer. They caress your skin. They fester inside your head.

Spider?

You freeze up in your corner at the familiar voice inside your mind. You don't want to look because you know who you'll see.

"No no no no no no."

Your hands clutch around your head, pulling at your hair.

"Go away!"

I brought food

"No go away! Please! Don't- don't do this."

Go on, I could hear your growling stomach from the gate

"Please!"

I made it

"You're not- you're- not- not-"

Did you hurt yourself?

"Leave me alone! You're not real!"

Whenever you're ready, little Spider

The snow has a blinding purity that's always mesmerized you. It stains so easily, the slightest touch disturbs the perfectly laid coat, creating chaos in the pillows of comfort and sanity. You'd spent most of the morning, most of the day, trekking through that purity and soiling it with the dirt underneath your boots.

There had always been a specific kind of thrill in your chest when you defied orders directly given. A small part of you taken back in your own hands, for better or for worse. You used to thrive so well under watch and order. Even if that's not the case anymore, you'd really ought to listen to the words of your betters.

At least then maybe you wouldn't be here. Standing as still as a statue, having a staring contest with a wolf and its red eyes. They're terribly vibrant. Reminiscent of the blood you could spill now.

Your hand clutched around your gun, ready to move at the order of a split-second decision. You're not here to hunt, you have to remind yourself. Never mind the wolf, never mind your thoughts. It doesn't matter that you used to hunt with them, that they used to sniff out your target for you.

It doesn't matter It doesn't matter It doesn't matter It doesn't matter it does-

The thing isn't even full grown. You'd have been more inclined to leave it alone if it wasn't for the bleeding cross running down it's snout. The red mixed with its fur in a beautiful symmetry. It's growling at you, you think. It makes you wonder if this is what your old targets used to feel when the wolves would corner them. Unlikely. They usually kept a face mixed with fear and hopelessness. Runaway members of the collective never lasted long under the knife.

There's a part of you that doesn't dare look away from it. The fatigue in your eyes almost do it for you, the snow around the creature makes it melt into the surroundings. The wolf was too focused, too interested in the way you looked, in the way you smelled.

He's still training them

They were likely right. If Mr. Graham was still alive, still with the collective, he'd be doing what he'd always been doing.

Cull the herd

Be the guide, the cold example

Cull the herd

And if that was the case, it wouldn't only be wolves lurking around out here. You'd need to relay this to Price, or Laswell, without rousing too much suspicion. It was a mere hunch, a feeling in your gut, but one you'd learnt to trust long ago.

You start to slowly move backwards, if you were tactical about it, you could still come out of this unscathed. Something flickers in the corner of your vision. All it takes is a moments distraction and the creature lunges at you.

The gunshot echoes in your ears. Your instincts took over, fired for you, and in a rare moment of luck you actually manage to hit. The wolf falls to the snow, its left eye is half gone and blood oozes out of it. The snow becomes dirty in its blood.

You take a step closer to it, observing the dead creature. The cross is gone. Something else flickers in the corner of your vision, something bigger and a lot faster. Luck doesn't strike twice, favouring others in a moment of misfortune.

Sharp teeth sink into your shin. You cry out, despite the second wolf only managing to hang onto more clothes than skin, it still penetrates. Scalding pain shoots up your leg. A second gunshot sounding out. You're not sure how you managed to hit it properly this close, but the wolf falls to the ground next to its mate.

You sink to the ground next to them, breathing heavily as if you'd run half a marathon. Your brain runs loops around itself trying to understand what had happened, why both of them had attacked like that, and why the bleeding crosses on their heads were no longer there.

Was it a trick from him? A trick of your mind?

It would take a lot for you to even attempt to call yourself sane any longer but this felt out of hand. Despite your own distorted reality, when it came to the cult you could usually rely on the rampant voices in your head. Were you really turning this paranoid?

With groans and sputters, you manage to move yourself around enough to take a look at your leg. It could've been worse; the damage wasn't deep but you wouldn't be making it to the mountains like this. You let out a curse to the heavens. You'd been so close to achieving your goal before somebody came looking for you, and now you'd have to backtrack.

You had the two options, and you knew you had to choose the boring one.

A higher pitched scream in the distance catches your attention, followed along with a loud splash and arguing not that far from you. The snow carried the sound a bit further than normal but it wouldn't be more than a minute’s walk from your location.

And just when you thought you could make your way back with no complications.

You hoist yourself back on your feet, letting out a hiss as your leg protests to the movement with more pain shot up all the way to your thigh. You lean on a nearby tree, perking your ears to listen to the nearby voices.

At first you can't make out what they're saying but...they're familiar.

Simon and Soap.

Your stomach drops.

Price must have sent them out to look for you. Part of you scolds yourself for not leaving some sort of note or message. No matter how elusive. At least then they might not have come out for you. You could've gotten further, if it hadn't been for the sake of those pesky wolves.

You run a hand over your face, the gloves taking some of the fallen snow off your eyebrows. You walk in the direction of their voices, using their argument to steer you in the right direction.

There was safety in numbers now that they were out here. You weren't keen on being mauled over by another pack of wolves.

"For fucks sake Johnny, I told you to watch where you're placing those feet of yours!"

"Not my fault the bloody stones are so slippery in this weather!"

"Bloody hell just get your arse up!"

You peek out between a set of bushes, the thicket giving you enough cover to observe the situation before you approached them. You tilt your head, your eyebrows turning a bit up in surprise at the sight.

Soap, coming out the water from one of the deeper creeks, completely wet.

Your lip twitches, and you feel the urge to bubble up with laughter. You don't know how he fell in, and you don't really need to know to see the entire event as hilarious.

"Bloody river, stupid weather, stupid snow" he grumbles angrily as he tries to dust off the water like it was a simple speck of dirt.

Simon sighs heavily, his entire gear moving along up and down with him. "You need to go back, gonna get hypothermia if you stay out here," he says sternly. There's concern laced in the order, but it's an undeniable order nonetheless.

"No way...am not letting you stay out here alone, Price told us tae look for 'em together," Soap protests.

"Don't need to look much further," you sigh and speak up.

You emerge from the thicket, startling the both of them at the same time. They're drawn guns are trained on you in an instant, and in return your own gun is trained on Soap. Force of habit and all that.

Simon relaxes when he gets a proper look at you. Soap following soon after.

"Good, you're not dead then" he speaks in a relieved manner. Did he really think you'd act that recklessly? Probably.

"You really think I'd let myself get killed over something that idiotic?"

He looks at you for a moment, but not because he needed to give it any thought. No, his eyes aren't displaying a complex need for that, because he knows the answer. He's giving you the chance to take it back, to explain the limp in your walk. You don't.

"No," he says just as sternly in the crass voice of his.

"Ghost is right," you say and turn towards soap and his half assed attempt at squeezing water out of his gear, "we need to get you back home...get you warmed up."

"Aye."

The entirety of the town is already giving Price the creeps. He's seen his fair share of things in his time, the awful, the creepy, the monstrous. But the feeling this town gives him? Unlike most things he's encountered.

There's no hostility, nothing but the purest of hospitality even for mere tourists. There's something wrong with the smiles, their incessant need to accommodate practically anything he asks for.

He opens the door to the car, holding the two coffee cups against his chest. Garrick reaches over, takes them from him when he gets himself comfortable in the front seat. "I think I got your order right...don't kill me if it isn't, got a bit distracted in line," Price grumbles and leans back in his seat.

Garrick takes a sip of his own, then handing back Price's cup to him. "It's just fine cap, thanks" he mumbles and drinks some more. He let's out a satisfied groan and relaxes back into the seat. "Despite how weird this place is, at least they know how to make coffee."

"Hm that we can agree on," Price takes a sip of his. It's not bad, but he's definitely had better. The shop he went to would do better serving tea on the menu as well.

He'd parked the car in one of the open parking lots, not many seemed to come here. Most of the day it remained practically empty except for the few people coming to and from town. They'd spent the last two hours walking through town, posing as the tourists they undeniable were today. They hadn't learnt much, except for the fact the locals remembered faces too well for comfort.

Though it was to be expected, the town wasn't too big.

"Walked by the church..." Price says with a sigh, "struck up conversation with a few of the locals changing up the sign outside."

"Got anything useful out of them?" Garrick asks as if he'd conducted a whole interrogation.

"They've got daily mass...but most people come on Sundays as to be expected," he tells him before taking another sip, "a few of us should attend on Sunday."

Garrick let's out a louder groan, likely already picking up what he's putting down. The man clearly didn't want to, but like anything else they'd do here in this town, it was all work. Just work.

Price takes another long gulp of his coffee. The energy barely ever worked for him these days, the stress getting to his bones. He looks out towards the bustling little market a bit further up the long road. There wasn't many, but most of them would come through the market at least once a day. Garrick had mentioned a few familiar faces he'd spoken to in his other trips to town.

"Captain, do you think they'll...." he goes quiet, hesitating to finish his question.

"They'll find them," Price says assuredly.

"That's not..."

The captain doesn't bother looking at him, gives him a moment to think his question through. "Speak your mind, Garrick," he urges.

"How much do we actually know about them?" he knows why he's asking. Price had his own doubts, his own concerns, when Laswell first presented your file on his desk and insisted this was the only way.

He hadn't fully shed his doubts yet.

"We know enough, sergeant" it's not the answer he wants nor the answer he needs but it's the answer Price has for him. He'd have to do more digging, for the safety of the team, for the prosperity of the mission itself. You were too big a mystery, one where the only thing he could rely on was Laswell's word.

"They've been helpful, they'll continue to be helpful, it'll have to be enough for now." Price adds on shortly after.

 Garrick says nothing in return, simply continues to drink his coffee dissatisfied.

Price starts up the car, intending to have the rest of the way home in silence. And it was, much to his admiration. The sergeant could have a talkative tongue when he got excited about something, he'd think this whole situation would give him a few things to say.

Instead, it leaves him a quiet contemplating mess. Much like the rest of them.

He only ever speaks up in a low grumble when he sees the tip of the house revealing itself in the distance, only to render himself quiet once again.

The silence stretches on until Kyle sees the three figures bickering at the front door. "Isn't that..." he trails out as he realizes they probably don't have the key for the home. He does his best at holding back his laughter. It earns him a side glare from Price.

"Seems like they found 'em."

Price turns the car around and parks it in its usual spot next to the temporary home. "The fuck happened to you?!" Garrick says bemused by the sight of Soap.

Price does raise a questioning brow as he exits the car after Garrick. They were only supposed to go get Spider, why the man was wet as a dog was lost on him.

"Fell in the river..." Soap grumbles.

Garrick fails to hold in his laughter this time around, snorting on the spot. "I know you like water but maybe you should stay away from the literal ice water mate," he claps Soap on the back a few times.

Soap pushes him away annoyed, "agh away n' bile yer heid!"

Price rolls his eyes, pushing past the two to unlock the front door. As soon as it's open, you dart past him to head inside in the warmth with a surprising urgency. He looks to Simon, coming to stand beside him to move inside as well.

"They're fine...mostly fine...we're all fine," he assures him.

He eyes you suspiciously. His boys might've said you were fine, you might've said you were fine to them. Little observation told him that your limping leg wasn't all that fucking fine.

He followed you out back, the rest remaining in the living room to keep MacTavish warm. "Spider, slow it up" he spoke up causing you to freeze in place. He walked with steady steps until he could place himself in front of you.

"Come, I need to talk to you, and we need to take a look at that," he gestures to the leg that has a stained pantleg. He turns back around to walk to his and Garrick's room. He doesn't bother looking back to see if you're following, he has a deep-rooted feeling that you will.

You may be a rulebreaker when you get the confidence, but there's still obedience in you. From where he doesn't understand just yet, but it doesn't take all of his wisdom to gather a lot went down when you were hunting the cult on your own.

He holds the door open for you. Your eyes meet as you make your way inside, there's that stubbornness he's used to seeing in Simon. "Sit," he points to one of the beds pressed into the corner while he closes the door.

You do as he says, your voice stuck in your throat. He rummages through the cabinets, finds the first aid kit he always saved a few of. He didn't even need to tell you to roll up your pantleg, you'd taken the hint way before.

The wounds weren't deep, but whatever you'd been bitten by had been out to be vicious. "You'll need to get a doctor to look at this...lucky for you the town's got a local practice."

You tense up at that, dodge his touch as he tries to keep your leg steady enough to clean. "It's fine..." you say hastily, "It just needs to be cleaned I don't need to see anyone."

"Yes you do and that's an order," Price is stern in his voice.

One thing was to go out of your way to disobey the laid-out deal between the two of you, to run away to look for clues on your own, but this? He wasn't about to let you walk about with an injury that'll make you hurt yourself even more.

You go quiet at that. It's enough for him to grab your calf and put a wet rag against your wound. You flinch but make no sound. Your muscles are tense under his grip and your eyes shut tight.

He allows you the moment of silence, understanding the discomfort of it. He doubted you'd be able to answer anything if he even asked you right now. He cleans off the excess blood, checking the toughness of the teeth punctures. It wasn't as serious as it looked, but you still needed a checkup, he wasn't changing his mind about that.

He removes the rag, and binds the wound. "Did you find anything?" he doesn't look at you as he asks, merely focusing on cleaning up the opened supplies.

"No..." you speak in a low whisper; he wouldn't have heard unless he was this close.

You don't elaborate, and he doesn't find the energy in him to ask.

"Next time you want to go on an adventure like that you take someone with you, or at the very least inform me," he's back to speaking sternly, the voice of a captain that's been carefully crafted over the years in service.

"I can't have rogue soldiers running around, is that understood?" he looks up to catch your eyes.

You hold his stare with an uncomfortable intensity, trying to be as intimidating as he is.

"Yes sir."

He pats your calf, tugging down your pant leg once again. That time you held back your flinch, but it was obvious in your eyes to him. He takes a moment to observe you, trying to dig through your rougher exterior, to see if you were really softer under in it all.

Had you been soft once?

He calls your name in a quiet voice, makes a point to use a softer voice with rounder edges.

"There's parts of your file not even I have access to," he starts slow, careful, then pauses. You're wary of him, more than the others. He chalks it up to his authority over you, the one you can't quite find your place underneath.

"What's haunting you that much...that you won't even let me in on surprise plans...we're all a team here we-"

You rise from your seat with no warning. You're quick to make your way around him, careful to not step on any of the scattered things on the floor. He doesn't stop you nor does he continue what he was about to pry out of you.

He understands in some underhanded way. He'd dealt with Simon a lot longer than he'd dealt with you. There were undeniable similarities yet still something entirely different between the two.

"You'll go to town first thing tomorrow morning, I'll get Ghost to take you" he speaks up from his seat on the floor. You stop somewhere close to the door, listening to his words, his order. You don't answer him, but he knows you heard him, that you'll heed him this once.

You leave the room, closing the door with a care for potential noise.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

Taglist: @chickennn-soupp @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @lilynotdilly @spicyspicyliving @kaoyamamegami @ellabellabunny123 @woodlandgirl22-blog-blog @haipasa

[science-lover33]

Exploring the Intricacies of the Respiratory System 🫁💨

Welcome to my Tumblr blog, where we embark on an exciting journey through the intricate world of human anatomy and physiology. Today, we're focusing our lens on the respiratory system – a wondrous network of organs and tissues that orchestrates the exchange of gases essential for our survival. So, fasten your seatbelts as we venture into the fascinating realm of respiration!

Anatomy of the Respiratory System: A Symphony of Structures

At its core, the respiratory system consists of a highly organized ensemble of organs and structures working together seamlessly. This symphony of components includes the nose, pharynx, larynx, trachea, bronchi, and, of course, the lungs. Each of these elements has a crucial role to play in the intricate process of breathing, ensuring our bodies receive a constant supply of life-sustaining oxygen while effectively eliminating carbon dioxide.

The Alveoli: Tiny Powerhouses of Gas Exchange

Now, let's zoom in on the alveoli, the star players in the respiratory system's performance. These microscopic air sacs, nestled deep within the lungs, are where the real magic happens. Through the process of diffusion, oxygen from inhaled air enters the bloodstream, while carbon dioxide, a waste product of metabolism, is expelled from the blood into the alveoli to be exhaled. It's here, at this cellular level, that the respiratory system's vital exchange takes place.

Breathing Mechanics: The Art of Inhalation and Exhalation

But how does it all come together? Breathing, a seemingly simple act, is a complex process guided by the contraction and relaxation of specialized muscles, primarily the diaphragm and intercostal muscles. These muscular movements manipulate the volume of the thoracic cavity, creating changes in pressure that facilitate the flow of air in and out of the lungs. Understanding the mechanics of breathing is fundamental to comprehending various respiratory disorders and their potential treatments.

Regulation of Respiration: A Symphony Conducted by the Brain

The respiratory system doesn't operate in isolation; it's under the watchful eye of our central nervous system. The medulla and pons, two regions of the brainstem, serve as the conductors in this symphony of breath. They continuously monitor factors like blood pH, carbon dioxide levels, and oxygen levels, adjusting our breathing rate and depth to maintain the delicate balance required for optimal body function.

Recommended Resources to Dive Deeper:

Book: "Principles of Anatomy and Physiology" by Gerard J. Tortora and Bryan H. Derrickson - This comprehensive textbook provides an in-depth exploration of the respiratory system, complete with detailed illustrations and accessible explanations for all levels of learners.

Article: "The Physiology of Respiration" by Stephen A. Ernst and John R. Helliwell - Published in the New England Journal of Medicine, this scholarly article offers an authoritative look into the physiological mechanisms of respiration, making it a valuable reference for those seeking in-depth knowledge.

Book: "Respiratory Physiology: The Essentials" by John B. West - For a concise yet informative journey through the key concepts of respiratory physiology, this book is an excellent resource, perfect for those looking to grasp the essentials of the subject quickly.

I hope this extended entry has sparked your curiosity about the intricate workings of the respiratory system. Feel free to reach out if you have any questions or if you'd like to explore another captivating topic in the realm of medicine and biology! 🌬📚

Here is my YouTube channel where you will find interesting videos, here is the anatomy and physiology of the respiratory system

Don’t forget to like, share and subscribe

[rabbithaver]

i finally decided to actually write out some of my major headcanons for Silver. i like him a lot as a character and i think people overlook him too much lmao

I genuinely believe that Silver has been decoupled from the timeline completely. This means that changes to the future made in the present do not affect him. He may not remember the specific events of 06, but he absolutely remembers growing up in an apocalypse and frequently has lines that support this in the comics. Him being unaffected by changes to the timeline explains why his personal history has not changed, despite the future being saved multiple times. ALSO, Ian Flynn has confirmed that Silver is not in control of when or how he travels through time -- I believe that whatever or whoever is sending him back and forth is the same thing that separated him from the timeline.

Silver is deaf, pushing about 70% hearing loss. It's not congenital -- his hearing sucks because he's from a timeline where things blew up constantly and he had no hearing protection. He relies mostly on lip-reading and guesswork, but wants to learn ASL when he gets a chance... if he gets the chance. Time is wibbly-wobbly for him. (I should note that this one is personal to me -- I myself am HoH due to otosclerosis and I'm definitely projecting my declining hearing on him lmao)

I know Silver is canonically the exact same height and weight as Shadow and Silver, but I personally don't find that very... likely. All three of these dudes are 3'3" and 77lbs EXACTLY? Nah. Shadow and Sonic, maybe, but not Silver. I headcanon Silver as being smaller and lighter than the other hedgehogs because he grew up in a timeline where food was hard to find, and thus didn't grow as much. He's very scrawny and basically has almost no meat on his bones, but you'd never guess because he's got The Fluff.

Elaborating on the food thing: his relationship with eating is probably totally screwed. Think about it: he spent his whole youth eating whatever he could get his hands on, and he probably had to eat as quickly as he could so he could stay on the move. The idea of eating to enjoy the flavor is like, completely alien to him. He also tends to stash food away for later, as he's not used to knowing when his next meal will be. He does it entirely out of habit, even when food is abundant.

Silver's immune system probably sucks. Every time he goes back to the past, he catches some illness. This is largely because he's not used to the pathogens 200 years earlier, but I also like to imagine this is because he's got some sort of autoimmune disorder.

You cannot tell me this boy does not have asthma. I am aware that this is kind of a fandom in-joke, but it makes total sense. If he grew up in a world of smoke and flames, his lungs probably look like burnt toast. Someone get him an inhaler please.

Silver has PTSD and severe anxiety, both due to his personal history growing up in a hellscape and also because repeatedly going back to the future to find his time in disarray due to events in the present is probably traumatic as all hell. His biggest trigger is most likely building collapse, but I can't imagine he doesn't have kind of a hard time with explosions after the Eggman War. His cheerful optimism and helpful attitude is his effort to deflect from his trauma.

Expanding on the anxiety thing; Silver struggles when he doesn't have something to do. We actually see this in canon in the 2022 Annual story "Future Growth." He has no idea how to function when he doesn't have a mission to focus on. Being in the past with no clear directive is insanely triggering for him and he totally fails to cope.

While I'm talking about his mental illnesses, I want to make it explicitly clear: he is REALLY good at hiding this stuff. His friends in the Resistance/Restoration don't find out about his issues for years, and this is specifically because he instinctually hides anything that could be perceived as a weakness. He's been conditioned to hide any and all weaknesses because it was the only way to survive in the post-apocalypse. Being visibly affected by your trauma is a quick and easy way to get dead, so he simply... doesn't. This kid cannot stop masking his trauma at all until he's literally at his breaking point.

There is no way he doesn't have intense Survivors' Guilt. Going back to the Metal Virus arc in the comics, he's the only survivor of a shuttle crash in Issue #25. All of those people died. They actually died - if they were zombots, they would've survived that crash, but because they were still healthy, they didn't have the ability to recover. Silver probably feels that because he was trying so hard to get survivors to the shuttle, he led those people to their deaths. I specifically am pointing to his dialogue here as evidence of this:

He probably dreads going back to the future. Like, think about it. He's admitted to being lonely (IDW #8) in his own time -- probably because his history separates him from the average person! The only friends he really has are in the past, the vast majority of whom are likely long dead by the time he's born. And while his friends are always happy to see him, I can imagine he has a lot of anxiety thinking about the fact that they inevitably start to associate his arrival with something bad coming down the line. That's rough, buddy.

He's very proud of his ruff and he takes really good care of it. It's super thick and very soft. However, when he's having a rough time, he's not as thorough, and it tends to show. If you know him really well, you can get an idea of his current mental health just by looking at the state of his chest fur. A happy Silver is fluffy, a struggling Silver looks like he was left in the washing machine.

Silver has a really hard time with media that involves apocalyptic worlds. He knows that it's just fiction, but it reminds him of the fact that he's the only one who remembers the apocalyptic hellscape he grew up in. It reminds him that as much as his friends want to support him, they can't truly understand what he's been through; his background is only real to him. It just leaves him feeling lonely and sad, so he avoids it as much as possible.

Silver doesn't sleep well in real beds. Maybe it's just a lifetime of growing up surrounded by an apocalypse, but he has a really hard time getting comfortable in a real bed. For months during the Eggman War, he'd spend hours tossing and turning before finally giving up and curling up on the floor in a corner. It's just not what he's used to at all.

anyway i think about him a normal amount :)

[pastel-charm-14]

having good posture

let's talk about the underrated but oh-so-important topic of posture. good posture isn't just about looking taller and more confident—it's also crucial for your overall health and well-being. here are some benefits of improving your posture:

reduced back and neck pain: slouching puts extra strain on your muscles and joints, leading to discomfort and pain in your back, neck, and shoulders. by improving your posture, you can alleviate tension and reduce the risk of chronic pain.

improved breathing and circulation: good posture allows your lungs to fully expand and your diaphragm to function properly, leading to better oxygen flow and circulation throughout your body. this can boost energy levels, improve concentration, and enhance overall vitality.

increased confidence and self-esteem: standing tall with good posture not only makes you look more confident—it also makes you feel more confident. when you carry yourself with poise and presence, you exude an air of self-assurance that can positively impact your interactions and relationships.

enhanced digestion and metabolism: slouching can compress your organs and disrupt digestive function, leading to issues like indigestion and bloating. maintaining good posture encourages proper alignment of your internal organs, facilitating optimal digestion and metabolism.

better spinal health: poor posture can contribute to spinal misalignment and degenerative conditions like kyphosis and scoliosis. by improving your posture, you can help preserve the natural curvature of your spine and reduce the risk of long-term spinal issues.

here are some tips to help you improve your posture:

be mindful of your posture throughout the day, whether you're sitting at your desk, standing in line, or walking down the street.

aim to keep your shoulders back and down, your spine aligned, and your head held high.

strengthen your core muscles with exercises like planks, bridges, and bird-dogs to support your spine and maintain good posture.

take regular breaks to stretch and move around, especially if you have a sedentary job or lifestyle.

consider using ergonomic furniture and accessories, such as an adjustable chair or a supportive pillow, to encourage good posture.

remember, improving your posture takes time and practice, so be patient with yourself. small changes can make a big difference in your overall health and well-being. here's to standing tall and feeling fabulous!

[fitnessnirvana]

FUNCTIONAL FITNESS

The term "functional fitness" has gained considerable traction in recent years. What's that? To put it simply, I prefer to think of them as complete body workouts that work through several planes and are centered around daily movements and activities. You can do these in the gym with or without additional weight.

Functional exercises includes movements such as:

Squatting

Lunging

Pushing

Pulling

Twisting

Including functional exercises in your regular regimen enables your body to function as a whole and produce optimal movements. Including functional training exercises in your workouts has several advantages, such as better posture and coordination, enhanced strength, less risk of injury, and improved balance. It is crucial that we incorporate these into our daily lives, especially as we get older, to maintain our mobility and ability to carry out daily tasks.

If you wish to improve your general strength and balance, increase your resistance to injury, and enhance your capacity to carry out daily chores.

[genshin-impact-updates]

"Secret Summer Paradise" Version 3.8 Update Maintenance Preview

Dear Travelers,

Our developers will soon begin performing update maintenance. While the update maintenance is in progress, Travelers will be unable to log in to the game. Please take note of the update time and schedule your game time accordingly.

After this is complete, the game will update to a new version. We recommend that Travelers install this update over a Wi-Fi connection.

〓Update Schedule〓

Update maintenance begins 2023/07/05 06:00 (UTC+8) and is estimated to take 5 hours.

〓How to Update Game Client〓

PC: Close the game, open the Genshin Impact Launcher, and click Update.

iOS: Open the App Store and tap Update.

Android: Open the game and follow the directions on-screen.

PS5™ and PS4™: Highlight Genshin Impact from the Home Screen, press the OPTIONS button and select "Check for Update."

Please do not hesitate to contact Customer Service if you encounter any issues installing the new version. We will do our very best to resolve the issue.

〓Compensation Details〓

Maintenance Compensation: Primogems ×300 (60 Primogems for every hour the servers are down)

〓Scope of Compensation〓

Maintenance Compensation: Travelers who have reached Adventure Rank 5 or above by 2023/07/05 06:00 (UTC+8).

Compensation must be claimed before the end of Version 3.8.

Our developers will distribute compensation to Travelers via in-game mail within 5 hours after the update maintenance is finished. The mail will expire after 30 days, so don't forget to claim the attached compensation in time.

For more update details, including bug fixes and other compensation details, please see the Version Update Details notice to be posted at 2023/07/05 07:00 (UTC+8).

〓Update Content Overview〓

〓Adjustments & Optimizations〓

● System

Optimizes the "Hold to select multiple items" function operation range and instructions on the Enhancement and Destroy interfaces in the Artifact and Weapon pages.

For Hangout Events, upon reaching the end of the event and obtaining the Hangout Memory menu, you can use the newly-added "Review Invitation" button to view the narrative checkpoints.

Optimizes the Quest-tracking process: When the objective is a certain distance from Travelers, clicking Navigate will open the Map.

The objectives for Archon Quests and certain World Quests will now be listed on the map.

Optimizes the sorting rules for Archon Quests and certain World Quests.

Optimizes the display logic for red dots in the Quest Menu.

Commissions can now be tracked persistently. After your tracked Commission Quest comes to an end, the next Commission Quest will automatically be tracked.

● Enemies

Adjusts the AoE of the Consecrated Fanged Beast's Lunging Slash skill so that it stays the same as the area of the visual effect.

● Audio

Adjusts sound effects for Kirara by softening the effect heard when moving around in the Urgent Neko Parcel state after holding her Elemental Skill.

Optimizes certain sound effects in "Genius Invokation TCG."

Optimizes the Korean and English voice-over for certain characters and quests.

● Genius Invokation TCG

Adjusts the text description for Large Wind Spirits summoned by Elemental Bursts after the Character Card "Sucrose" has equipped a Talent Card in Genius Invokation TCG (to differentiate these from Large Wind Spirits summoned when a Talent Card hasn't been equipped).

Adjusts the text description for the Talent Card "I Got Your Back" of the Character Card "Noelle" in Genius Invokation TCG (actual effect remains unchanged).

Adjusts the effect of the Equipment Card "Gambler's Earrings" in Genius Invokation TCG: this effect is now limited to 3 times per match.

Adjusts the number of Elemental Dice required and DMG dealt by the Elemental Burst of the Character Card "Yoimiya" in Genius Invokation TCG: the number of dice required has decreased from 4 Pyro Dice to 3, and "Deals 4 Pyro DMG" has been adjusted to "Deals 3 Pyro DMG."

Adjusts the Elemental Skill DMG of the Character Card "Beidou" as well as the number of Elemental Dice required and DMG dealt by her Elemental Burst in Genius Invokation TCG: for Wavestrider of her Elemental Skill, "Deals 2 Electro DMG" has been adjusted to "Deals 3 Electro DMG"; the number of dice required for her Elemental Burst has decreased from 4 Electro Dice to 3, and "Deals 3 Electro DMG" has been adjusted to "Deals 2 Electro DMG".

Adjusts the Elemental Burst DMG of the Character Card "Xiangling" in Genius Invokation TCG: "Deals 2 Pyro DMG" has been adjusted to "Deals 3 Pyro DMG."

Adjusts the Energy required and DMG dealt by the Elemental Burst of Character Card "Razor" in Genius Invokation TCG: the Energy required for the Burst has been decreased from 3 to 2, and "Deals 5 Electro DMG" has been adjusted to "Deals 3 Electro DMG."

Adjusts the Elemental Skill DMG and Elemental Burst DMG of the Character Card "Eula" in Genius Invokation TCG: for Grimheart of her Elemental Skill, "DMG +2 for this instance" has been adjusted to "DMG +3 for this instance"; for Lightfall Sword of her Elemental Burst, "End Phase: Discard this card and deal 2 Physical DMG" has been adjusted to "End Phase: Discard this card and deal 3 Physical DMG."

● Other

Adjusts the collision size of the Spiral Abyss's floor whereby there was a small chance that it would hamper character movements and attacks.

Optimizes the display location and size of special effects of certain Elemental applications and Elemental Reactions on enemies.

Adjusts visual effects when Dendro Cores appear and burst to reduce the load on system performance.

*This is a work of fiction and is not related to any actual people, events, groups, or organizations.

"PlayStation", "PS5", "PS4", "DualSense", "DUALSHOCK" are registered trademarks or trademarks of Sony Interactive Entertainment Inc.

[audible-smiles]

My grandma’s been in the hospital for 14 days. The whole medical team has seemed pretty confident that they should be able to restore her lung function back to baseline with steroids, but it’s getting harder to believe in that because she’s not really improving. She still needs oxygen support just to sit up in bed, and can’t get out of bed at all. They’re having a meeting with the pulmonologist again today. I just want someone to acknowledge the concept of mortality so we can stop dreading it, you know? Someone willing to joke about it, or straightforwardly ask what quality of life grandma would find unacceptable, or give us the statistics for life expectancy after a pulmonary fibrosis diagnosis, or promise that they would definitely tell us when the vultures are circling so we can know for sure that we’re not there yet. Human medicine is somewhat deranged in its optimism and I do not appreciate it.

[madamlaydebug]

Most of us don’t give our lungs much thought — until something goes wrong.

If Covid-19 has taught us anything, it’s that we need to start prioritizing strong lung and respiratory function in order to stay healthy.

Your lungs need specific nutrients for repair and optimal function, and it’s up to you to give them the support they require — so, what should you eat? Here are seven research-backed foods that help make a difference in supporting healthy lungs!

- Walnuts

- Tomatoes

- Ginger Root

- Apples

- Broccoli

- Cayenne Pepper

- Green Tea

[shimmerbeasts]

Wyll. Of course, it had to be him. That wretched, insufferable goody-two-shoes with his princely optimism and nauseating moral high ground. Predictable as sunrise, spouting the same saccharine drivel she could recite in her sleep. And yet, somehow, his predictability didn’t make him any less grating. No, it only added to the irritation, like a broken lyre string plucked endlessly out of tune. Mizora clicked her tongue sharply against her teeth, her glare slicing toward Wyll with the kind of venom that would wither even the most stalwart soul — if only it could. Frustration boiled in her chest, threatening to spill over. She had been outmatched, captured, subjected to the humiliation of a mindflayer forcing a worm through her eye. Her powers, once formidable, were now a shadow of themselves, her connection to the infernal plane cruelly severed. She was a devil, a prized jewel of Zariel’s inner circle, reduced to this pathetic, mortal-like state. And this self-righteous fool had the audacity to tell her to "make the best of it"? By all the Nine Hells, she could hardly decide if she wanted to scream, incinerate him, or both. Oh she could make the best out of it. She could make the best out of RIPPING THE SKIN OUT OF HIS BONES. Mizora closed her eyes, fighting the overwhelming urge to lunge at him and claw that one good eye right out of its socket. Her nails twitched at her sides as she inhaled deeply, pulling the simmering rage back down her throat. She needed him, after all. She needed all of them-this pathetic, bumbling gaggle of fools who could barely function without tripping over their ownincompetence. It was infuriating. It was humiliating. But it was necessary. With painstaking effort, she pieced her carefully crafted mask of civility back together. When she opened her eyes again, there was a sharp, steely smile on her face, as warm and reassuring as a blade poised for a killing strike. "Yes, we absolutely should make the best of it," Mizora purred, in mocking agreement. But as she turned her head, the smile crumbled in an instant, her voice dropping into a cold, clipped tone. "And whatever happens next, don't let that noble little head of yours get any funny ideas. Your contract? Still ironclad. Don't forget it."

Past experience compelled Wyll to take at least a half-step backwards as he saw Mizora's claws twitch. Somewhere in his mind, he half prepared for a sudden strike to the face. Always a dance of danger with her. Just because his patron's powers had been greatly diminished, did not mean that she could be treated as a harmless house cat. After all, a Cambion had more than just powers, making them so dangerous. Their shrewdness was another strength.

Her gaze had not lost any of the viciousness, Wyll had learned to fear. Yet even he could tell that it did not carry the same dread he was used to. No doubt that had been a magical quality of her gaze. He still found himself taking another half-step back. He waited with bated breath as he could practically feel Mizora wrestle her infernal instincts back under control. He would not mind facing that wrath if it meant the others in the camp had some peace. Mizora was his responsibility. She was his patron and he had, in a way, brought her into the life of his new friends.

"I was trying to be nice."

Wyll put the bowl with warm rabbit stew in front of her. He couldn't even believe that he was trying to soothe Mizora's agitated mindset. However, wasn't that what a good dog did for its owner? Ugh. He really hated having to think in these terms.

"Look, I get you're mad and that this change is a lot to digest", Wyll said, "I know how that feels. I was in a similar position when I was exiled. I understand you are not too fond of changes. We all know what the outcome of our predicament could be. Believe me, none of us want it. You are not alone in this case. And hey, that tadpole may have weakened both of us, but it has not destroyed our personality yet. You are shrewd. Use that."

His healthy, reddish devil eye narrowed back at Mizora as he listened to her clipped and cold tone. His lips formed a thin line as Wyll replied: "I am many things but stupid is not one of them. I am not gonna try breaking the pact. I know you. Any loopholes, you long covered up, before you ever spoke to me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am gonna get my own dinner."

@dev1lsadvocate cont. from here.

[thefatherofbiomechanics]

PATIENT MEDICAL RECORD SURGICAL REPORT #957

Patient Name: Misha Lupical Age: 14 Sex: Male Date of Surgery: ██ ██ ███ Surgeons: Doctor Paene Lupical, Petya Yordanovich (cardiologist) Anasthesiologist: Malcolm Grey Procedure: Organ Transplantation and Cardiovascular Augmentation

PRE-OP NOTES

Diagnosis: Multiple organ failure (lungs, gallbladder, liver, kidneys, spleen) due to malignancy and systemic toxicity; cardiovascular inefficiency requiring augmentation

Planned Procedure:

Organ Transplants: - Gallbladder, lungs, liver, kidneys, spleen excision and synthetic organ implantation - Major arterial and venous reinforcement with synthetic materials - Connection of transplanted organs to neurological implant

Cardiovascular Augmentation: - Secondary four-chamber heart implantation (continuous steady-state circulation with pre-coded heart rates for rest and different exertion modes)

Structural EnhancementsL - Endoskeletal reinforcement with flexible carbon-fiber mesh (beneath ribs)

Anesthesia plan: - General anesthesia with neuromuscular blockade - Continuous hemodynamic and neurological monitoring - Peripheral nerve stimulation for post-op functional assessment INTRA-OP NOTES:

Anesthesia Induction: - Patient intubated and placed under general anesthesia by anesthesiologist Malcolm Grey - Central venous access obtained (catheter inserted in subclavian vein) - Cardiopulmonary monitoring initiated

Intra-operation Actions: - Diseased lungs, liver, spleen, gallbladder, and kidneys removed - Synthetic organ replacements positioned and vascular connections established by Doctor Petya Yordanovich - Major arterial and venous structures reinforced with synthetic conduits - Endoskeletal mesh placed beneath ribcage; no interference with respiratory motion detected

Complications: - Initial rejection response to liver implant triggered hypercytokinemia, requiring instant immunosuppressive therapy - Temporary hypotension following spleen replacement; stabilized with IV fluids - Unexpected clot formation near secondary heart implantation site, requiring immediate removal and anticoagulant administration - Delayed vascular integration of synthetic kidneys, leading to brief renal hypoperfusion; resolved with perfusion adjustment

Closure & Recovery: - Hemostasis confirmed across all surgical sites - Incisions closed with bio-compatible sutures and synthetic dermal grafts - Patient transferred to ICU for post-op observation POST-OP NOTES:

Immediate Post-Op Status: - Patient successfully extubated, spontaneous respiration intact - Secondary heart maintaining consistent circulation with expected oxygen levels (confirmed by Dr. Petya Yordanovich) - Moderate pain and discomfort noted, managed with analgesics

Complications: - Acute hypertension episodes likely cause by vascular reinforcement adaptation; managed with a vasodilator medication - Persistent metabolic imbalance due to synthetic liver requiring enzyme therapy for stabilization - Mild pulmonary edema in left synthetic lung, resolving with respiratory support Ongoing Monitoring & Adjustments: - Secondary heart function optimization for long-term stability - Periodic enzyme regulation assessment for synthetic liver - Renal output monitoring for continued integration - Regular pulmonary function tests for synthetic lung efficiency

Discharge Plan: - Estimated hospital stay - 12-16 days - Physical rehabilitation for systemic adaptation (done by Doctor Lea Anderson and physical therapist John O'Nella) - Regular biomonitoring for cardiovascular and organ function stability - Regular neural implant monitoring to check for the integration of transplanted organs and their proper function

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @tobeyinabox

[ru5t]

RAYGUNS.

The most common form of firearm, chosen weapon of both Better Living and a majority of killjoys, despite being company technology. Much like transmitters, the rate of production and ease of access has led to a near monopoly. So much so that, while these "ray" guns may have once had a different, branded, or more complex name, they're now typically just called guns, while firearms that utilize metal ammunition and combustive propulsion are called "acoustic" guns. (Killjoy slang for things that come from 'the old world', before the bombs.) It is not legal for any citizen to own a weapon of this type. Any firearms found within the city are either owned by the company to equip the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W and SPECTRE units, or contraband.

Guns do not have ammunition to load, but instead are battery powered. Whatever mechanism makes up the body of the gun is what generates the bolts that they fire, and the battery provides the energy source for this process. Safe-modes power a gun down, preserving battery and preventing it from being fired. Powering a gun on has a "warm up" window before the gun can be fired, identifiable by a signature whine as the gun becomes functional. Older models are known to take a bit longer to warm up, though the difference in times is effectively negligible. The main difference seems to be cosmetic: the older guns are louder on the warmup.

Different releases and lines have batteries of different power levels and configurations, though they are often at least passably cross-compatible, if not well optimized. In a pinch, cramming any gun battery into the grip, cranking the power, and pulling the trigger extra hard will generally get the job done. Though it might ruin the gun for any future battle, and get you a lecture from a superior or smithy.

The energy blasts/bolts that BLi firearms release appears to be* a form of focused radiation. Contact with a bolt causes burns to the skin or sometimes deeper and pain on hit, followed swiftly by numbness and/or tingling and swelling, then finally (days later) an itching/burning sensation as they heal. They are lethal at close to mid range, especially when striking the head, heart, and lungs. Other side effects, from both firing the weapon in excess and injuries gotten from them, include aches, fevers, and flu-like symptoms. Gun injuries rarely bleed: they fire hot enough that any open wound they generate is often immediately closed via cauterization. As you can imagine, the barrels get very hot. Safe handling dictates a business end of a gun not be touched for at least five minutes after it has been fired, at risk of personal injury.

*Many people, crow killjoy or otherwise, couldn't begin to tell you what, exactly, the kind of energy these firearms shoot is. If anyone does know, it's closely guarded information — there's a nonzero chance the exact knowledge has been lost, and the process of manufacturing the weapons has become more an act of reproduction than true understanding of the science in employ.

Better Living handheld firearms, branded as The Individual™, are the most commonly used gun in Battery City and its surrounding zones.

These guns are lightweight and have quick response time. They warm up quickly, and get great battery mileage. The dial on the thumb side of the grip functions as the standby and power switch. As well, this dial adjusts the weapon to preset levels that can fine tune the power level of individual shots.

The lowest setting on The Individual™ is a stun shot: intentionally under-powered so as to be nonlethal, for the gathering of high value targets that the company prefer be taken alive and as unspoiled as possible. Up from that, the low setting does less direct damage, but will preserve battery and allow more shots to be fired. As you can guess, the higher settings fire more dangerous, 'hotter' shots more likely to kill a target outright, but burn through the power supply much more quickly. Generally, the Individual from any release line has four settings: stun, low, mid, high. No matter which setting they're on, the standard, handheld models experience a steep drop off of lethality at anything beyond middling ranges.

Nonlethal shots, whether from the stun setting or a result being out of range, etc., still cause surface level burns, and frequently cause temporary numbness of/around the where the bolt made contact, which can just as easily remove an opponent from the fight. The severity of burns varies by factors such as: distance from the barrel, type of clothing worn and number of layers, and whether or not the gun has been tampered with. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit employees typically wear fabrics known to reduce the effects. The security department (the officers who wear hoods as opposed to masks) are well known for wearing vests and gloves that absorb a majority of a bolt's lethality, enabling them to tank confrontations and fire weapons with high outputs with minimal risk to themselves.

In other words: crows fire hot and soak up shots. Aim for the head, babe, and don't get struck dead.

BLind does produce more than the common handheld firearms, including a full-automatic rifle (pictured above), and much bulkier rifles that resemble hunting or 'sniping' rifles.

The automatic rifles have a similar range to the Individual, but much higher rate of fire. They are often held by members of the security force, especially in the gates and tunnels in and out of Battery City. Incredibly effective deterrents, they lack the requirement of precision that the handheld guns take, and pack multiple battery packs at once, meaning they can be fired many times before needing to "reload", i.e. loading a new power pack. They're also, however, prone to overheating. This can be either the bolt generator getting too hot and failing until it has the opportunity to cool down, or -more rarely- the batteries becoming damaged and causing the weapon to self-destruct in spectacular (or horrific, if you don't let go of it) fashion.

The bulkier rifles have a greatly increased range of lethality, but the rate of fire is very low, and handling the rifles is a chore. The knowledge isn't common. They take large, heavy duty batteries, have long warmup times, and sometimes require more than one person to operate effectively. Higher level S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W employees —weapon specialists and Exterminators— are the most likely to be trained to use the long range rifles. They are known to be employed in small number at the outward boundary of the city and the Better Living outposts in zones 01 and 02. The cons list is long with these monsters, but the counter is this: people only rarely survive a strike from a rifle. The level of energy (or whatever it is the guns fire) is so concentrated its destructive capability is thus far unmatched. If the wound doesn't kill immediately, the after effects (long term numbness in various extremities, organ failure, illness) almost certainly will.

The long range rifle is likely the version of the technology that led to the major change from traditional guns to Better Living standard; a ray gun rifle is simply more resource efficient and more deadly than a bullet. It's only when scaling them down that the lines of effectiveness begin to blur.

In the desert, the handheld firearms are by far the most common, and it's traditional to decorate and modify one's gun, some even going so far as to name their weapon. These can become an extension of the individual killjoy's image. Some even become notorious in their own right, like the magic swords of old legend, and other 'joys may begin to emulate or make variations of famous designs.

Spare and additional parts are regularly produced by the city, making repair of a signature weapon fairly easy to do. Often it's easier, in fact, than getting a new one. Still, some killjoys don't get particularly attached, and might opt to simply replace their guns rather than repair them when they're badly damaged.

Killjoys who modify guns ("smiths" or "smithies") are experts at overriding any built-in safety measures. They tend to alter the process through which the gun's energy is released; clever smiths can turn the basic guns into traps and time bombs. Even the most basic smiths can make them burn hotter than any pre-designated setting typically allows for, but of course they burn out much faster that way, and pose a higher threat to the shooter as well. Ace shots and arrogant sandpups like hot guns. Killjoys wise enough to know they won't hit that one-in-a-thousand mark tend to focus on optimizing their battery use and storing backups.

[ancientforgcd]

So that Vacosian has no lungs, kidney, liver or any other organs to speak of? How does she function? Any clue, Ruan Mei?

"How fascinating. A Vacosian’s body truly breaks away from conventional biology. No lungs, no liver, no kidneys - and yet, they function seamlessly with only a core, an energy reactor, at their center. It’s as if their entire system is designed to bypass inefficiency, converting nutrients directly into power without the need for auxiliary processes. Such a structure must create an extraordinary balance of resilience and energy output."

"It’s a design that feels almost deliberate, wouldn’t you say? Optimized entirely for combat and survival, yet still capable of reproduction. A marvel of biological efficiency, though it does raise questions. For instance, how does this structure impact their longevity or adaptability to environments beyond their norm? The answers could very well rewrite what we consider essential for life. Ah, I’d love to examine this further someday."