#Pollution control methods

[delta-remediation]

Unraveling the Depths of Bioaugmentation and Biostimulation: A Comprehensive Comparison

Introduction:

If you've ever delved into the field of environmental biotechnology, you've likely stumbled across the terms "bioaugmentation" and "biostimulation". These sophisticated approaches to environmental remediation are both aimed at enhancing natural processes to treat contamination. But what exactly distinguishes one from the other? In this article, we will delve into the specifics of Bioaugmentation vs Biostimulation, breaking down their definitions, applications, and key differences.

Understanding Bioaugmentation:

Bioaugmentation, in its simplest form, is the introduction of a group of natural microbial strains or a genetically engineered variant into an environment to enhance the rate of pollutant degradation. These microbial strains, often referred to as 'augments', are known for their specialized ability to degrade contaminants that the existing microbial community cannot effectively handle. This technique is frequently employed to address the contamination of soil and water bodies with organic pollutants such as oil spills and certain types of industrial waste.

Diving into Biostimulation:

On the other hand, biostimulation involves the stimulation of indigenous microbial communities already present in the environment by providing nutrients, electron acceptors, or substrates that enhance their activity. Unlike bioaugmentation that adds new organisms to an ecosystem, biostimulation works with the existing microbial population, encouraging their growth and pollutant degradation capabilities. Often used in environmental cleanup efforts, biostimulation can enhance the breakdown of a broad range of pollutants, including petroleum hydrocarbons and heavy metals.

Bioaugmentation Vs Biostimulation: A Comparative Study:

Now that we understand the fundamentals of both processes, it's time to compare them head-to-head.

Techniques Involved: While bioaugmentation is about introducing specific microbial strains to boost pollutant degradation, biostimulation works by providing necessary nutrients or substrates to stimulate the indigenous microbial population.

Scope of Application: Both techniques are used in environmental remediation, especially for soil and groundwater. Bioaugmentation has a slight edge in cases where specific contaminants require particular microbial strains for degradation. Biostimulation, however, is often favored for broader applications, given that it enhances the overall microbial activity and not just that of specific strains.

Economic Aspects: Bioaugmentation requires the cultivation and addition of specific microbial strains, which can be costly and technically demanding. On the contrary, biostimulation usually involves adding relatively inexpensive nutrients or substrates, making it a more economically feasible option in many cases.

Environmental Impact: Bioaugmentation involves adding new organisms, which raises concerns about the impact on the existing ecosystem and the potential for creating imbalances. Biostimulation, working with existing microbial communities, is generally viewed as having a less disruptive impact on ecosystem balance.

Effectiveness: Both techniques have proven effective in various scenarios, but their success heavily depends on site-specific conditions. For instance, bioaugmentation's effectiveness might be hindered by the inability of the added microbes to survive in the new environment. Biostimulation's success, on the other hand, could be limited by the potential growth of undesired microbial communities.

Conclusion:

Bioaugmentation and biostimulation, though conceptually distinct, share a common goal: to utilize biological processes for environmental remediation. Choosing between them demands a clear understanding of the contamination at hand, the existing microbial community, and the economic and environmental implications of each approach. As scientists continue to explore these fascinating techniques, our ability to heal the environment using nature's own tools will only continue to improve.

[thearticelheaven]

Here are some of the major tips How To Stay Safe From Air Pollution in Delhi NCR. Read the blog of The Article Heaven very carefully and follow these Tips To Reduce The Air Pollution.

[pseudowho]

"Now, gently release the clutch as you press the accelerat-- gent--ly-- Yuu--ji--"

"--shi--t--I'm--try--ing--Na--Na--Min!"

"--lan--language, Yuu--Yuuji, a lamp-post! Brake!"

"Shit! I mean, fuck!"

Kento's voice rose, punctuating each lurching stall of the car in first gear. You watched in despair from a distance.

Kento's car, far too powerful in the hands of a teenager, jolted and hiccuped across the evening skyline. The once quiet car park was polluted with screeches and grinding.

You held your head in your hands, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Teaching Itadori Yuuji to drive was surely the 9th circle of hell.

Over the weeks prior, Kento had tried explaining the mechanics of driving more. He had tried explaining them less. He had tried showing Yuuji videos, and diagrams.

Kento had pulled his hair out, and even considered sitting Yuuji on his lap like a child, and encouraging Yuuji to press Kento's own feet upon the pedals.

You had told Kento that his last idea was utterly mad, and Kento had slumped in resignation and poured himself a second, bigger drink.

The drive back to Yuuji's dorms, at least, was smooth. Kento's shoulders were tense, mountains beneath navy twill. Yuuji looked awkward in the rearview mirror. He broke the silence with a mumble.

"Maybe...maybe I'm not ready to drive yet, Nanamin."

Quiet. The car purred to a stop at the traffic lights. Your eyes flicked to your husband. His voice was quiet, too; measured.

"Any new skill takes practice. It takes time, Yuuji. We'll go out again in a few days. I know you'll get there. I...I believe you'll get there."

And so, Kento and Yuuji did drive again. And again. And again. And again.

Kento came home more dishevelled each time; first, with mussed hair; then, with mussed hair and sweatstains; then, with mussed hair and sweatstains and a straggly, loose tie.

"Maybe he's not ready to drive yet," Kento grumbled into a whiskey one evening, his elbows planted on his knees and his head in one hand. He had dropped Yuuji home in a courtesy car this time.

His own car, with grisly tire arch damage, had been stretchered away to a mechanic as Yuuji bowed with tears in his eyes and stuttered promises of compensation.

Kento wouldn't hear a word of it, but you could see the fissures of anxiety rending him fragile. You could see the numbers racking up in his line of vision; the deep breath and wince as his insurance premiums rose.

"Maybe...maybe he just needs a bit of a push?" You mulled one night, as Kento sat on the sofa, obsessively researching methods to make Yuuji anything less than a hazard behind the wheel.

"Absolutely not," Kento grumbled, his face illuminated by his laptop. "What he needs is some control. Some self-discipline--"

"--Kento, come on, he's just a boy--"

"--and he'll be a man, soon!" Kento snapped, cold and dismissive. You gritted your teeth, knowing there was no arguing with him, when he was like this; when stress had rendered him dogmatic. You bit your tongue to stop the venom leaking out.

"Fine. Just...don't take it out on him."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento's tone was barely schooled. The air in the car ran thick with tension.

"So you press the clutch down, release the accelerator, and slip into second ge-- clutch down-- clutch down-- Yuuji!"

A horrible grind, a crunch, and a stall. Yuuji and Kento lurched forwards. Yuuji's mouth puckered up into a mortified grimace once more. In the back seat, you opened your mouth to reassure Yuuji, but Kento cut across.

"Enough. Enough. You're not ready, Yuuji. Perhaps you won't ever be."

You felt the same knives that Yuuji did. You turned to look at Kento, stunned. You heard, rather than saw, the tears brimming on Yuuji's lashes; his voice was thick as he spoke, barely audible.

"...'m sorry, Nanamin."

You waited until Yuuji was well inside his room, that evening, before you swept past Kento like a winter wind. Kento flinched, and turned to watch you go, silent. Minutes later, as he slid into bed to join you, the silence stretched longer, gravid and expectant. Eventually, Kento spoke.

"I just think...he needs a bit more control, and I'm...I'm sorry--"

"You can't control everything, Kento. Why are you apologising to me?"

It was Kento's turn to feel the knives.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento wouldn't have blamed Yuuji for abandoning the mission, and leaving him to die.

This woodland shrine, mountain-nestled and ravaged by time, had no business being as cursed as it was.

"Grade Two, my arse," spat Kento, staggering out onto the moss-gravel path, with blood dripping from his hands. They were crushed; agony, and Kento's face twisted in pain. He could hardly hold his blade, let alone holster it. "Yuuji-- you've got to get out of here--"

A peachy blur; a boot-gravel skrrrrrr. Yuuji skid out of the shrine, dropping to his haunches beside Kento.

"What do you mean 'you've' got to get out of here?" Yuuji yelped, dodging flung debris from the beast that followed them. Kento swore, reaching one mashed hand into his pocket for his car keys and--

-- Kento froze. He stared at his battered, bloody hands in mute horror. He looked up to his car, through the windscreen, and at the steering wheel which he could not turn,q and blanched.

Yuuji panted, slowly deflating as he watched Kento unravel.

Never before had he seen true horror seep into Nanami Kento. Never before had he watched the light leave Kento's eyes, to be replaced by the looming spectre of certain death.

It made Yuuji's heart clench; and Yuuji decided.

Kento grunted in surprise as Yuuji's hands shot into his tan pockets. "Yuuji-- Yuuji! What are you doing? Leave--"

"Get in the car," Yuuji ordered, already yanking Kento over slippery cobblestones by the elbow. The earth rumbled behind them, their time running short.

"--Yuuji-- you can't drive--"

Yuuji slammed his hands on the hood of the car, and roared, "Shut the fuck up, Nanamin! And get in the fucking car!"

Kento's jaw dropped, pearl-clutching, gravely offended. He opened his mouth to argue, and Yuuji interrupted, ripping the passenger door open and shoving Kento in (who made a muted little 'ouch') with no decorum.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, 'language Yuuji'-- shut the fuck up-- and do as you're told, Nanamin--"

A monstrous thing, a curse of a Curse, punched out of the shrine with explosive force, as Yuuji slammed himself into the drivers' seat.

Still being regarded by Kento with mute horror, Yuuji leaned over Kento and his mangled hands, and pulled his seatbelt on. Yuuji gripped the wheel, turned the key, and took a deep breath.

And boy, how he drove.

Kento's arms flung sideways, slung like an unstrung marionette as Yuuji shot the car into reverse with staggering speed, and spun it into forward facing, to wheel-screech and half-donuts.

Yuuji's foot hit the floor.

Kento barked encouragement at him, as their speed rose, and the creature chasing them sped up to match, with a roar muffled by engine roar.

"--clutch-- 3rd gear-- build your speed! 4th! Put your foot down! Good boy, Yuuji!

Yuuji turned the volume up-- the radio blared. The sound of thundering footsteps quickened behind them. So Yuuji jumped to 5th gear, and flew.

Yuuji grinned, whooping like a howler monkey, driving Kento through branches and over tiny cliffs, swerving trees and leaves and logs and stones and river bridges until--

"Shit-- Yuuji-- blind spot--"

Yuuji laughed, and Kento groaned into his forearm to see one of his wing mirrors ripped off and left behind, the car juddering and slamming and skidding until--

Crash!

The car broke through foliage into glorious daylight, skidding to a halt on an empty dirt road. Yuuji panted. Kento panted. The second wing mirror fell off. The engine smoked. Yuuji turned slowly to Kento, his face falling.

Kento huffed, a rueful half-smile on his bloodied face.

"Mrs.Nanamin said you just needed a push. I should have known. You always were a clutch hitter, Yuuji."

[synchodai]

Arcane S2 wasn't as good because it wasn't about air

The common critique of Arcane season two was that "it didn't let the story breathe." I'm going to one-up that and state that season one set up an entire story about breathing and forgot that in season two.

Yes, yes, Arcane was a story about Piltover oppressing the undercity, but unlike a lot of other stories about social stratification, Arcane was very explicit about the methods Piltover uses to disenfranchise Zaun. Season one was clearly a story about eco-apartheid maintained through extractivist practices.

WHAT IS ECO-APARTHEID?

Ecological apartheid (also known as enviromental racism) is a form of disenfranchising and spatially separating a class of people through pollution, exploitation, and abuse of their local environment.

[E]nvironmental apartheid was largely instituted through rural marginalization, the use of rural space as an environmental means of marginalization... - Environmental apartheid: Eco-health and rural marginalization in South Africa

Topside and the undercity are basically one nation state with a blindingly stark fence between them. Piltover and Zaun are simultaneously connected and separated by the Bridge of Progress. Progress unites them and alienates them from one another. Progress is why Piltover is wealthy and clean, and it is why Zaun is impoverished and polluted. It is was on the Bridge of Progress that Silco incited the riot that led to Vi and Powder's orphaning and Vander's betrayal. It's where Ekko and Jinx have their standoff, and where the Hextech core is exchanged. In other words, progress is a border.

WHAT IS EXTRACTIVISM?

Prior to the proliferation of shimmer and the chembarons, industry in the undercity appears to be heavily centralized around one thing — fissure mining. Vi and Powder's parents used to be miners along with Vander and Silco. Jayce and Vi visit one of these mines and she explains the masks the workers use. Oh, and let's not forget the children don't have to yearn for the mines when they're dying in the mines!

The Zaunites' livelihood being dependant on the extraction of natural resources for the benefit of the Piltovans is what is known as extractivism — the exploitation of a resource-rich land and its people by a separate "global North."

In practice, extractivism has been a mechanism of colonial and neocolonial plunder and appropriation. This extractivism, which has appeared in different guises over time, was forged in the exploitation of the raw materials essential for the industrial development and prosperity of the global North. - Extractivism and neoextractivism: two sides of the same curse

The "North," in this case, clearly being Piltover. The resources being abused and exploited here aren't only the fissure mines, but also the bodies of the workers and those born around them. Viktor's illness, for example, is a product of growing up around the gaseous waste of the fissure mines. The Zaunites take the brunt of the side-effects of the pollution so that the topsiders don't have to. The "dregs" are kept below while materials, both people and things, that are deemed useful get to rise to the top. The processing of raw materials and shipping happens in Piltover, so it's the Piltovans who get a final say on the profits.

Silco and the chembarons establish their power by creating an industry that operates outside of fissure mining that doesn't rely on the patronage of the global North. Needless to say, drug dealing isn't exactly a noble trade, but extraction, processing, and distribution are mainly controlled and operated by Zaunites, which allows them a source of wealth and power that they can leverage against Piltover. To use a more recognizable phrase, they own the means of shimmer production.

I find it fascinating that shimmer is made by killing innocent underground creatures. Cannibalizing your own kind for a temporary boost of strength that eventually turns the user into a monster? It's a poignant metaphor about the infighting of not just the chembarons' gangs but of oppressed groups in general. And while shimmer offers power and brings in wealth, that's not what the undercity truly needs and only corrupts it even further.

Nah, the show has been very clear that what Zaun needs is breathable air.

SEASON 2 FORGOT ABOUT AIR

Even outside of the air pollution caused by fissure mining, the theme of breathing and air is everywhere in season one. Ekko and the Firelights' community is built around a tree — the clean air it provides is the reason they've been able to sustain themselves. It is considered an oasis in polluted Zaun. Jinx's is often heralded by brightly colored smoke, and the way she signals to Violet is through a flare that emits it. Silco's altercation with Vander involves him almost drowning — Vander literally choking the air out of him. Silco, in reponse to this traumatic event, teaches Jinx to willingly submerge herself in a place without air by baptizing her in the same filthy water he was choked in.

In other words, air is life and purpose. Zaun's aesthetics are defined by gas masks and smoke. Meanwhile, the scenes in Piltover are clean and clear. Ekko and the Firelights' tree represented hope and the possibility of clean air in Zaun. Viktor was similarly associated to flowers that grew in the underground, symbolizing how beautiful things can live even in the harshest circumstances.

Environmental degradation, more specifically air pollution, is the raison d'être of topside-undercity conflict. Silco says as much when he threatens the other chembarons and reminds them of why he's in charge.

Have you forgotten where we came from? The mines they had us in? Air so thick it clogs your throat — stuck in your eyes. I pulled you all up from the depths, offered you a taste of topside and fresh air. I gave you life. Purpose. But you've grown fat and complacent, too much time in the sun. We came from a world where there was never enough to go around. That is why we fight. Do you remember? - The Boy Savior, Arcane S01E07

But by the second and third acts of season two, pollution may not as well exist in Zaun. How does Viktor's commune plant its flowers and grow its fruits? Does the Firelights' tree ever get cured of its corruption? Did everyone forget that the undercity is literally suffocating? Seriously, why is Ekko's storyline with the tree never resolved? Why give Jinx that monologue about a wispy goddess of air the fissurefolk pray to and never go anywhere with it?

JINX SHOULD HAVE BEEN ASSOCIATED TO JANNA

The Grey presented an opportunity for Jinx to be the revolutionary hero Arcane wanted her to be. The enforcers have clearly aligned themselves with pollution and poison, and Jinx could have been the herald of their wind goddess come to answer the people's prayers for relief. But the people don't rally behind Jinx because of her association to Janna, clean air, or her repelling the invading cops using bioweapons.

I firmly believe that Jinx being a symbol of the revolution because she blew up a government building is missing a few steps. She'll get radicals who already hated Piltover behind her, sure, but the everyday Zaunite would more likely blame her for causing chaos and bringing trouble to their streets. Because the average person doesn't really care who's on the council or if a politician so far from them dies. But they do care if the cops are suddenly at their door with tear gas because an extremist junkie decided to commit arson.

The first act of season two had me very optimistic that the show was picking up where it left off with its enviromental themes. The enforcers use The Grey, polluted air, to surpress dissent and hunt down Jinx. Jinx fights back under a mural of Janna, the goddess of clean air. Her plan involves her using air to push back The Grey and send the gust up to Piltover. After being actively gassed by the enforcers, Jinx and her association to colorful wind becomes a symbol of hope and revolution to the people of the undercity.

Except that's not what happens. The Grey is only shown affecting targeted criminals with no collateral damage to civilians despite it being deployed all over the trenches. The gusts of wind Jinx pushes up to Piltover don't make topsiders experience the air pollution Zaunites suffer. Instead, it just midly inconveniences them with paint splatters. In the end, The Grey is forgotten and has nothing to do with their fight in front of Janna's mural. Caitlyn gets a promotion despite gassing the entire underground with nothing to show for it, and the undercity idolizes Jinx despite her being the reason they were gassed in the first place.

ECOLOGICAL RESTORATION IS INTERPERSONAL RESTORATION

Unlike in the game, Arcane chose topside and the undercity to be originally established as one city — and I don't think that was done without reason. The nation of Zaun and its identity is established as a reaction to the suffering of those underground. A community developed centered around helping one another cope and survive through the pollution. In short, Piltover created Zaun.

Thus, the interplay between Piltover and Zaun extended to all plotlines and the relationships they explored and developed. Jinx and Vi, Vi and Caitlynn, Viktor and Jayce, Ekko and Heimerdinger — these are all relationships that reflect the tension between Zaun and Piltover. Family torn apart by civil war, bitter ex lovers, different ideological approaches to scientific advancement, intuitive inventiveness and practiced genius. Their relationships are born from a common desire and degrade because of that looming border inflicted by the pursuit of progress.

Piltover and Zaun is a single house fractured because of how it threw all its detritus in the basement as it sought to build a tower that will reach the skies. The whole building is threatening to crumble, especially now that someone threw a bomb at it like in the finale of season one. The status quo Arcane and we as a globalized eco-apartheid have is extremely precarious as is any foundation built on abuse and exploitation. A lot of people will cheer on the Jinxes who don't care so much about fixing it than they do burning it all down to express their understandable rage and grief, but that doesn't really fix the problem of having breathable air, does it?

Unfortunately, we'll never know how the show will wrap up the Zaunite plight because it was all but forgotten in season 2. The problem of Zaun was never that they needed to evolve or be perfect — it's that their environment and the people by extension were being suffocated.

In my perfect world, the finale would have addressed the lack of light and clean air in the underground. It would have mirrored how some bodies and relationships can never truly fully recover the damage that has been done. As in real life, restoration is not a substitute for not doing harm in the first place. But it could have ended with a hopeful message that burning it down and running away isn't the answer either.

When Viktor was healing Vander and decided that, despite the unprecedented effort and time, his natural, non-weaponized humanity was worth saving because of how much he means to his local community, I thought that was what they were going for. Alas, they didn't let the show breathe.

[erwinrer]

Mongolia: Suffering from the dust

In recent years, the global climate has become worse, and all countries will inevitably suffer from environmental disturbance, especially desertification as a serious disaster, and Mongolia is suffering in it.

Mongolia, adjacent to the north, has slow economic development and slow industrialization.

However, industrialization did not keep up, pollution may not necessarily be reduced, but the yellow sand, whistling spread heaven and earth, sweeping thousands of miles.

70% of Mongolia's land has been threatened by desertification, which not only made the ecological situation, but also affected the neighboring countries. Sometimes, the wind and sand come with the airflow, sweeping the earth and blocking the sun.

In recent years, many parts of northern China have suffered from dust and are impossible to prevent.

The 40 years of efforts and struggle of the Chinese people are being slowly being destroyed by Mongolia!

The dust raged every year

In recent years, the north sand rampant, rolling dust seems to be about like, year after year to disturb the northern earth.

Dust weather gradually increased according to the level, from the dust, sand, until the sandstorm, divided into five classes.

In March last year, the four-day sandstorm, originated in southern Mongolia and southern Xinjiang, affected Xinjiang, Gansu, Qinghai, Inner Mongolia and other 15 provinces and autonomous regions.

Dust is like a layer of gauze, covering the earth, its influence range of 3.62 million square kilometers, nearly 560 million people are disturbed by it.

Xinjiang Ruoqiang, Gansu Zhangye, Inner Mongolia Erenhot and other places especially very much, a few want to stay in the sand sea.

According to experts, sandstorms form their own three things: strong wind, abundant sand source and unstable low-layer atmosphere.

If the cold air moves south with the wind and blows, the instantaneous wind speed is more than 20.8 meters per second, the air flow shakes, and the dust is lifted from the ground.

Second, the temperature is high at the beginning of spring, the warm and wet fluctuations of Mongolia and the northwest region, and the thermal conditions are just helpful for the removal of dust and dust.

Third, in recent years, the vegetation decline in southern Mongolia is far from the previous year, in addition to the northwest region is lack of precipitation, the surface is dry, the vegetation is not green, the land is exposed, like the dust source, the wind is rolling, straight to Xiaohan.

Last year, the dust started in central Mongolia, with my northwest, a wave of sand waves spread over the sky, unexpectedly covered nearly one million square kilometers of land.

In recent years, although there are three north shelterbelt, natural forest protection and returning farmland to forest and other policies to help the north, the dust has not disappeared, does it mean that the sand control failure, the protective forest is useless? The answer is not necessarily so.

Ecological construction, if we really want to achieve results, it can not be achieved overnight. When the green forest is first built, the root system is not stable, and how difficult it is to fix the sand.

Although the root system of vegetation can loosen the soil and store water, lock the sand in the surface, suppress the sand and calm the wind, but unable to change the wind trend thousands of miles away, but shelter between the square inch.

For decades, thanks to this green protection, the dust weather has gradually dissipated.

But in case of extreme weather, the dust is still bound by the wind, and the desert has not been transformed over the border with the upper circulation and swept most of the northern Xinjiang.

Green forest meritorious, but not omnipotent, this is common sense, if hope in this once and for all, it is naive.

Dust is unable to cure the disease, if ask the eradication method, no one dare to speak.

Trees fix sand, indeed, but not a panacea.

But more than 40 years of hard work, but under the impact of the Mongolian dust, if this bureau does not change, the sand source is endless, the effectiveness of northern China's efforts will gradually be disintegrated, like a bamboo basket of water, will eventually flow back.

The source of sand is endless

Mongolia, as the northern neighbor of China, has attracted much attention due to the desertification problem and is one of the "worst disaster areas" in global desertification.

Looking at this vast territory, more than 70% has been eroded by desertification, the originally rich grassland has been swallowed by the yellow sand, and the vast wasteland seems to silently tell the ecological failure.

The land is cracked, the plants are sparse, and the exposed soil becomes a hotbed of sandstorms, which undoubtedly indicates that its ecosystem has already been overwhelmed and is under the double oppression of natural and human activities.

Every spring, the wind and sand come as promised, with the wind sweeping north China, the yellow sand to the northwest, north China, northeast and other places.

Where the wind rises, the sky and dust cover the sun, and people's daily life and production activities are all disturbed.

Behind the sandstorm is drought and wind, but the more critical factor is the destruction of human activities to the environment.

Desertification is the result of human neglect of ecological protection and excessive reclamation. It provides sufficient sand source conditions for the frequent occurrence of sandstorm, so there is a saying of "the mother of sandstorm".

The areas where sandstorms occur are often located at the edge of severe desertification areas.

Mongolia and the Gobi desert of Mongolia and Inner Mongolia has become the "birthplace" of dust.

Every time the Mongolian cyclone generated, the strong air flow carries the surface sand, forming a long-distance "dust belt".

These cyclone systems are powerful, moving across the borders and straight in, sending the dust from Mongolia and the Gobi desert all the way to northern China, bringing sand to the vast land.

Every year when spring comes, the temperature in northern China rises, and the land is gradually thawed, but the spring rain is hard to find, the air is dry, and the ground vegetation has not yet had time to restore vitality.

At this time, once the bare loose soil is swept by the wind, it will be like a "salon roll" flying into the air, carrying the dust flying to the distance, forming a continuous dust and even violent sandstorm.

Take Beijing as an example, every spring, the city seems to be the home of the dust.

Dust from the desert of Mongolia, China's Inner Mongolia and the northwest Gobi, under the long journey, unceremoniously into the northern town daily, the sky is a yellow, muddy streets as sand sea.

The dust can sometimes grow stronger on the road.

Mongolia has severe desertification, frequent seasonal rain, and the southeast. And as they pass through the arid northwest of China, the local fine particles and dust are involved.

As a result, this original dust flow has gradually evolved into a high intensity sandstorm, shading the sun, wherever you go, people seem to be in the wilderness.

[the-scientist-blog]

In the prior two posts, Mr. President-Elect, I summarized the facts pertaining to the cause of climate change, as well as its environmental destruction ingredients: excessive carbon dioxide, methane and plastic.

Now to explain why we shouldn’t have to be talking so much about severe weather in the first place…

I realize you don’t want to be reminded of this, and please don’t be upset with me as I go forward, but big oil and gas has formally acknowledged that as early as the mid 1950s to the 1960s, in-house scientists then warned its executive boards around the world about the environmental consequences brought on by burning oil, gas and coal. Long ago there was written documentation to prove the polluting damage caused by BOG’s products, not to mention plastic, was well known to those on the inside of its corporate hierarchy. And much like the tobacco industry, BOG unanimously agreed to remain silent about the unknown price a never ending consumer base would pay,both directly at the gas pump and climatewise. 

Beginning about 60-70 years ago, profit, not people, was all that mattered. BOG’s influential words (and your “climate hoax”) rang loud and clear until a few years ago when it became visibly obvious those two words no longer fooled enough people, thus forcing the energy sector to change its behavior regarding emissions coverup. No, its admission to the decades of hush-up pollution never made headlines. Rather, its climate denial simply came to an end. 

If The Right Thing To Do was ever discussed among BOG’s corporate leadership, the topic was soon extinguished in the black columns of smoke pouring out of the refineries.

Rather, BOG allowed its expanding customer base to relish getting from one place to another in the quickest most efficient manner possible, with no hint of what the chemicals were doing to the environment. Life was good and rich for BOG! No different than the other industries that spewed their pollutants to contaminate the world’s air, water and land. Thank God for the EPA which stood up to spank the polluters, and extinguished some of their greed. 

Otherwise, Sir, can you imagine the dirty chemical fix we’d all be in?

When The Right Thing To Do was intentionally omitted, humankind lost out to a  greenhouse gas by-product that caused an ecocide to the planet’s kingdom. 

Could this history of extreme polluting emissions never have happened?

Absolutely. Maybe some introductory emissions, but humans would have it under control by now. 

The damage caused by fossil fuel could have been made public early on, and then regulated in an orderly fashion as clean energy methods evolved. An example of what should have transpired long ago is given below.

Imagine if the following announcement actually occurred. It is 1964, and these words have just grabbed headlines around the globe:

A WARNING TO ALL FROM THE GLOBAL OIL, GAS AND COAL INDUSTRY

 While our production has created an unprecedented volume of energy to power up civilization and economies around our beloved planet, there will be consequences for the environment and therefore, all of humanity.

Unfortunately, our oil, gas and coal resources generate excessive carbon and methane emissions that form a level of pollution that will one day overwhelm the atmosphere and everything below it. The result will cause an increasing portion of the sun’s heat to remain trapped on Earth’s surface, thus warming the ice sheets, oceans, land and air forcing people to deal with far more frequent bouts of severe weather, aridity, and rising temperatures than we face today.

At the same time, we cannot stop production because world industrialization, transportation, homes and businesses would suffer without an energy source. Yet, it is up to us to lead the way out of a future livability predicament. There is still time for an irreversible change to our climate to be avoided...

www.thescientistblog.com

[theambitiouswoman]

Women's Health: Daily habits that could be affecting your hormones

Hormones play a central role in the proper functioning of your body and overall health. They affect your menstrual cycle, fertility, bone health, mental and physical health. Your skin, weight, thyroid, energy levels, heart and breast health and much more.

These are some common habits that can influence hormonal balance:

Sleep: Irregular sleep can disturb hormone production, like cortisol, insulin, and growth hormones.

Diet: Eating lots of processed foods, unhealthy fats, and sugars while lacking essential nutrients can lead to hormonal imbalances. Extreme diets can also harm hormones.

Stress: Chronic stress releases cortisol, disrupting other hormones in the body.

Exercise: Too much or too little exercise can impact hormone levels. Overtraining raises cortisol, while being sedentary affects insulin sensitivity.

Caffeine and alcohol: Consuming too much caffeine or alcohol can affect hormone production and the endocrine system.

Plastic usage: Some plastics contain chemicals that disrupt hormones, especially when they leach into food and drinks.

Skincare and household products: Harmful chemicals in skincare and household items can act as hormone disruptors.

Medications and contraceptives: Some medications and birth control methods alter hormone levels.

Smoking: Smoking and secondhand smoke can disrupt hormones.

Environmental toxins: Exposure to pollutants like pesticides, herbicides, and chemicals in the environment act as endocrine disruptors, affecting hormone production and function.

Hydration: Staying hydrated is vital for hormone secretion and function.

Sunlight exposure: Natural sunlight helps regulate circadian rhythm and melatonin production, impacting other hormones.

Social interactions: Loneliness and social isolation affect hormone production and stress hormones.

Water bottles and food containers: Bisphenol A (BPA): Found in plastic bottles and containers, BPA can disrupt hormones when it seeps into food or drinks.

Laundry products: Some laundry products have chemicals that act as EDCs, impacting hormone balance through skin absorption.

Synthetic fabrics: Fabrics like polyester can cause increased sweating and heat retention, potentially affecting hormones.

Personal care products: Certain cosmetics and shampoos may contain harmful chemicals that interfere with hormone levels.

Intermittent fasting: Extreme fasting or calorie restriction may disrupt hormonal balance for some individuals.

Gut health: A healthy gut, supported by a balanced diet and probiotics, positively affects hormone metabolism.

Birth control methods: Hormonal contraceptives, like pills, patches, or IUDs, can influence hormone levels and affect individuals differently.

[askgildaseniors]

Moises Santillan draws attention to the pervasive problem of microplastics, which are becoming an increasingly serious environmental and health risk. Microplastics, or minute plastic pieces, are not just found in water but appear to be prevalent almost everywhere. Moises notes that they may be found in a variety of daily plastic goods and in locations excessively contaminated with plastic garbage. The widespread prevalence of microplastics is an increasing concern since these particles infiltrate both our environment and our bodies, as scientific investigations show.

The health consequences of microplastics are especially concerning. Moises emphasizes that enhanced microscopy and other technologies have enabled researchers to detect microplastic particles within the human body. Considerably more troubling is the potential for microplastics to break down into smaller particles known as nanoplastics, which are considerably more widespread. These nanoplastics can enter the circulation, spread throughout the body, and potentially disrupt numerous biological activities. This compounding effect, in which plastics degrade into increasingly minute particles, raises major concerns about their influence on human health.

Microplastic pollution of the environment is also a significant concern. Moises notes that microplastics may be discovered anywhere plastic debris collects, contributing to the overall pollution catastrophe. Their persistence in the environment and tendency to disintegrate into smaller particles make them incredibly difficult to control. Pollution not only endangers animals, but it may also impact land, water, and food quality. As microplastics permeate many ecosystems, the long-term environmental consequences might be severe, threatening biodiversity and altering ecological equilibrium.

Moises emphasizes the urgent need for study and action to understand and reduce the impact of microplastics. The presence of these particles in the human body, their metamorphosis into nanoplastics, and their widespread environmental distribution all necessitate further scientific investigation. Potential solutions include lowering plastic manufacturing, improving waste management systems, and developing creative methods to break down these polymers safely. Through collaborative effort and ongoing study, humanity can address the threats posed by microplastics and move toward a healthier, more sustainable future.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Energy Systems

In the current energy system we rely on privately owned, large-scale, centralised energy production, which removes from the consumer any say in how the energy is produced. Energy is delivered to the consumer for a fee with the profit margins of the producer regulated by the state, in exchange for the ability to operate as part of a small cartel. The true cost, however, is not considered. The environmental cost of emitting CO2 in extracting and burning fossil fuels is not included in the price, making fossil fuels artificially cheap. This allows coal extraction and burning to continue because it remains profitable.

Energy systems are currently run for a dual purpose — to provide consumers with energy and to provide capitalists with profits. Future energy systems must be democratic in their control and operation. They need to serve their communities and focus on energy efficiency, thereby reducing demand and minimising environmental costs, rather than chasing profit. The technologies needed to achieve this should be tailored to the location. Wind and wave energy are more suitable in northern Europe, geothermal should be used where it occurs naturally, and solar in northern Africa.

In LEDCs, we need to avoid increasing carbon-intensive methods of living, which MEDCs have enjoyed since the industrial revolution. We need to improve the quality of life without relying on outdated and polluting technology. This is currently happening in a piecemeal fashion. However, much of the financing is provided by MEDCs as a method of offsetting their own carbon omissions.

We see an end to intellectual property rights as a mechanism of achieving this, so that low-carbon solutions can be transferred directly to the developing world. Demand can also be reduced through a rationalisation of industrial production, and a focus on the needs of the community rather than production for ‘economic growth’ or profit. We have the technology available to provide a clean energy system; what remains is to disseminate these ideas and technologies and take control for ourselves.

[multif0rmed]

Wrong Side of Heaven - Chapt. 3

Rating : T (mostly for Xehanort, really)

Summary : During that year Ventus had been apprentice underneath Xehanort. Follow both of them as they navigate throughout this time - as their relationship starts off strong and eventually deteriorates. Presented as snippets within the year.

Brings in Dark Road elements, along with BBS, because we've never gotten the mix for the two.

Will be posted here as well as on ArchiveOfOurOwn.

Index HERE.

Chapter 2 - HERE. Chapter 4 - HERE.

Chapter underneath the Read More.

Trust ..

It was such a fragile thing. The blonde quivered as he stepped into the dark corridor, the darkness wrapping almost immediately around him - as if it wanted to say Hello, friend. It's been awhile. But it didn't - couldn't - have made sense. The confusion clouded the boy's mind all too easy, like pollution.

No, leave me alone ... The spikey-haired boy begged, feeling as if his feet were overlooking a steep ledge.

Laughter sprung up around him, nipping lightly at him from different directions.

Such cruel whispers ...

They wiggled into his head ; he could feel hot tears start to run down his cheeks.

Scratches against a surface.

What were they ..? He all but abandoned them, whatever they were, in favor of listening to the voices.

Louder, persistent scratches now.

What, but he had to continue listening, didn't he -- A squeeze of his hand, it feeling like ripples across water. He could hear his heartbeat within his ears, and breaths were shallow. Things were attempting to flow, organize. Shift. His name ... Oh. Big blue eyes bounced onto Xehanort.

"Ven .. s ..."

It was like being underwater, why couldn't he come to the surface?

"Ventus," a voice called again, as the boy felt pulled along. He staggered lightly, getting ripped out of the cocoon he had been making for himself. Rapid blinks. Who was -- Oh. Xehanort. The boy remained silent, as the master hurried to get them out – but control had wrapped itself around him.

How does he do that?

Their steps turned slower, as Xehanort noticed the boy had seemed calm now. Unfamiliar yellow glinted within the shadows around them – and a small snort left the elder.

The boy seems so fragile – but what child wouldn't be within these Corridors? Eventually, he hoped he could adequately teach the boy about darkness. Vision lingered briefly on Ventus but for a mere moment, before he looked behind the boy.

That shadow …

But no time for such distractions.

Xehanort glanced back forward, steps having never ceased despite the curiosity. It would far too dangerous to lose focus in such a volatile environment. The need – the absolute need to make the travel quick as possible always burned within his mind. Not just for Ventus – but also for himself. Even if he had managed his Heart well.

Another few moments, and it had felt like coming out of a sea – air breathed into both of their lungs, and the sun shined brightly upon them. The older of them turned his vision back onto the boy, and he gestured off to the side, sweeping his hand upwards. “Welcome … to one of the many worlds, Twilight Town, lad,'' he stated, causing the squinting Ventus to gaze up at him.

He's so tall .. Ventus idly thought, lifting a hand finally to shield his eyes. Still – he needed to squint, not knowing it had been about early afternoon for the town. So many people went to and fro ; a variety of heights and colors infected his vision. Another world …? Something scraped within his mind, but it hurt. Why? A frown, as much as he was excited to see everything. “Another world ..?” He muttered, confusion easily painting across his expression. He then looked behind him – but only saw the last of purple and black wisps disappear from the portal they had come out of. Relief – but he still felt unnerved. “I .. What were we in?”

“A dark corridor,'' Xehanort said after a moment of thought. He didn't have to explain – it being a highly proficient method of travel, especially when Ventus hadn't taken it well. He spun around to lead the way out of the shallow alleyway.

“Why?” A yawn escaped the boy, as he did a doubletake. His feet scuffed across the street, hurrying to catch up to Xehanort. He better not lose the other.

A laugh. “Now, lad .. that may be a better topic for another day .. you seem quite tired.” He would rather sooner expose the boy properly to darkness – before any such explanation.

Ventus looked disappointed but relieved -- though the mixed look couldn't cling to his face for very long. “Oh, yeah ..” Right around the corner, they walked past one or two buildings before grinding to a halt. Blurry vision had attempted to scoop up what information it could – but it all but felt unreal. An outline of a house wiggled within the boy's eyes, as Xehanort stepped forward. The front door clicked – its magick slithering away to allow the two an entrance.

“Come,'' he gently said, standing aside and holding a hand for the boy to enter his home.

Ventus blinked, rubbing at his eyes. Just clear enough for him to notice. Feet stumbled and struggled to get moving. He thought he had fallen, but – there Xehanort was. His gloved hand gripping around the boy's frame, as a frown creased his face.

“Careful,” the voice slinked into the atmosphere. Xehanort waved a hand in the air, and the hinges pulled the door shut. Ventus was led over to the couch nearby, and the soft material met Ventus' face. The elder turned, his legs carrying him momentarily upstairs to grab a blanket for Ventus. Ventus' wouldn't even notice the new material across his body, as Xehanort laid it over him after his eyes had shut. “Now --” The old man cut himself off in a hurry.

The boy had fallen asleep.

No shocker there.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the doorway into the kitchen. Ah, yes. That abandoned tea – something that had slipped his mind within all the excitement.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

A number of hours had passed.

A grunt landed into the couch, as the slow roll of consciousness tried to bloom into him. Where am I..? The thought ran across his mind freely, a pool of confusion still deep within him. He rolled over, nearly knocking something off him. Oh, a blanket - his mind registered as its owner grabbed it and pulled it closer.

“Ah, I see that you are awake.”

A voice flowed through the atmosphere towards him – and his eyelids fluttered open. Eyes focused. He looked a little different – the man didn't have his coat on him. Xehanort had been sitting in a chair across the room, his sketchbook opened to some page. His legs uncrossed as he leaned towards the other, eyes inquisitive. A pencil between his fingers was twirled. “How did you sleep?”

Threads of a high-pitched voice still registered within Ventus' mind. Something from his dreams ..? He recognized it – as if it had been something precious. “Uh .. good,” he answered, letting a yawn escape him. He turned onto his back and streeeeetched. Oh, that felt good. “I think, anyways,'' he mumbled. He suddenly shot up, fingers gripping the edges of the blanket. He finally got a clear look around at his environment, examining all of its little details and tranquility. It felt … safe. So much more than that Corridor. And yet, along with that Corridor he had many burning questions wanting to be answered … but where could he start? His head turned. “I-It's not as light out anymore?”

Xehanort's vision followed Ventus', settling in between the gap of the red curtains. “No – you've slept about ten or so hours.”

Something else about spilled out of the boy's mouth, but then his stomach growled. A hand shuffled down to that area, and it rubbed. How long has he gone without food? Days? Weeks? What was time? He hesitated, ''I.. Can I have something to eat?”

A smile fell onto the master's face, as he picked up his sketchbook and tucked it underneath his arm, page still open to the piece he had been working on. “Of course,'' he replied, going into the kitchen. He placed his drawing utensil and book onto the island's counter – eyes sweeping over the art he had been working on. Another one of Eraqus ..? A scowl flitted onto his face. Like a pest, his mind couldn't erase the other.

“Oh, is it too much trouble?” Ventus questioned, catching the elder's expression.

A light shake of his head. “Nonsense, boy .. it isn't. Sit down awhile. What would you like?” he asked, a neutral expression gripping while his voice remained its cold.

Ventus looked dumbly – mind still cloudy.

“A sandwich sounds good?” Xehanort suggested.

A slow nod. “Uh, yeah ...okay,'' Ventus said, sliding himself into one of the chairs at the island. As Xehanort begun to make the sandwich, Ventus' vision stuck like glue onto the dark marble countertop. “Uhm ..” he blew out a sigh. No way that the other would let him stay here, right? ''I know you would teach me about stuff, but .. Uh .. do you know where I belong?” Blue picked up, studying else new within the kitchen.

The master shut his fridge door, a jar of mayonnaise held within his hand. “You belong here.”

The reply startled the young male, and his hues latched onto the elder. “W-What?”

“You do .. I have no problem offering you my home.”

There it is again – that kindness. Nothing can go wrong … Ventus' cheeks burned. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome, lad.”

Actually, maybe he'd get a drink as well for the other .. Once he had set down the condiment, he opened the fridge door again. The shelves held barely anything – it hardly being surprising to the elder. He could get so lost in what he was doing; food escaped his mind entirely.

Especially as of late.

When had it been since I've last gotten food …

Troubling that he couldn't even recall. His eyes swept across the shelves, pushing what limited food was there aside. No drinks, huh? He gets water then, he decided, shutting the door. Hmh. His eyes flickered over to Ventus – taking him in.

Looked like he needed to start buying more food … if not for himself, someone else.

Within mere minutes, the sandwich had been prepared - turkey meat and provolone smashed in between two pieces of bread. The plate made a noise as it got slid in front of Ventus, who perked up at the food given to him. The boy beamed.

Xehanort's heartstrings got pulled within his chest. “Enjoy.”

[lets-try-some-writing]

Do you have anymore lore or ideas on how Cybertronian rain works? Like how different cities or peoples deal with it, maybe it’s worshipped in some areas, or maybe something completely different!

How did I miss this request??? HOW did I miss this??? Worldbuilding ANYTHING is one of my favorite things to do.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

On Cybertron, rain as those from Earth know it, simply does not exist. Rains on Cybertron are dangerous hazards to be avoided at all costs. Formed from millennia of smog and the odd interactions with passing stars, its all acid without a drop of actual water to be seen. It is a problem not a spark can fully escape as there is simply no way to stop the rains from happening after so long of the planet being left under the control of mecha and other beings who do not at all care for pollution.

Of course due to the rains being a fact of life, mecha adapted and dealt with it in their own ways.

The floating city of Vos had its own unique methods of dealing with the rains due to how often the storms raged around it. The citizens of Vos created spires, ones with shields built into them to ward off the worst of the rains from above. The shields caused flooding on lower levels that was quite deadly, but to fliers that meant little as they simply took to the skies and waited until the liquid drained down and out of the city. They also created walls around the borders of their city to keep the harsh winds from carrying the deadly substance into their settlement. The walls tended to need constant repair, but such was the cost of safety and not being melted alive. This was of course not a perfect method of keeping the rains from causing damage, no, it merely stopped the worst of it from affecting the city due to the fact that the storms raged on all sides. Individual mecha still found themselves required to remain indoors and to carry shields with them should they decide to travel. Going anywhere by air was a death sentence, and so to combat this while still keeping the city going, most mecha took the skyline systems built for visiting grounders to get around.

Cities within and close to mountain ranges and canyons like Durax, Tyrest, and Tarn had different methods of protecting themselves. Their high caste civilians fled to underground keeps where the acid could not reach, ones built into the canyons. Middle caste civilians had to hope and pray that the walls kept the winds from carrying the acid too close to their residences. Most of them were forced to seek shelter wherever they could, leading to the time tested tradition of total strangers becoming a family of sorts as they waited for the storms to end in whatever building they holed up in. Lower caste mecha did what they could but often ended up precariously huddled underneath hovels if that was possible, or if not, they had to hope the rains weren't too harsh as they worked through them, their armor being burnt even as they continued on.

Cities near the ocean like Polyhex, Hytrax, and Stanix had little choice when it came to escaping the rain. The cities were built up away from the ground to avoid the worst of the storms, but often citizens were required to retreat to bunkers due to the sheer amount of rain. High caste mecha would spend their time in luxury accommodations or even take ground transportation out of the city until the rains passed. Middle caste mecha were more likely to put on extra armor layers and keep working, unable to get a break even if they wanted to due to the level of production their cities were involved in. Burns and mecha vanishing were not uncommon, especially amongst the lower castes who generally could not even afford extra protective armor, much less take time off to hide from the rains. Mecha would even go so far as to carry huge shields on staffs to try and ward off the worst of it while working.

Landlocked cities as a general rule did not experience the rains as often as others. But places like Iacon, Kaon, and Praxus had methods to handle them anyway when the rains did come... only most civilians were not naturally equipped to handle it due to the rarity of the event. Only the upper castes had access to buildings and residences with built in rain shields or other resources intended to make the rains less dangerous for inhabitants. Shielding for upper caste housing was common place and tended to often leave the middle caste and lower caste residential areas flooded. Middle caste mecha, while not in possession of the funds required to be comfortably prepared, tended to keep additional armored boots to wear so that they could still get to work after the rains passed during the flooding. If it was still raining, most middle caste mecha possessed small personal shields but little else, often leading them to run for their lives to get from place to place. Lower caste mecha had no such luxuries and either worked through the hell that was the rain, leading to more than a few deaths, OR they did what they could to cobble together sheilds.

The general opinion toward rain around Cybertron was quite simple. A deadly but unfortunately common fact of life. Despite that, some smaller groups had unique opinions regarding it.

While normally seen as a problem, some mecha got creative during the height of Cybertron's civil unrest and started gathering the acid rain. They would then store the material and later use it during protests in a less volatile form in order to make a point. They couldn't make any compounds without getting arrested or worse, but gathering it? There was no mech willing to stop a spark willing to risk melting to collect rain. It was fairly common for some protests to have watered down acid rain barrels that would then be thrown at officers when things got violent. It bought them time to escape and get out of the area while the guards flailed.

In other more religious areas, mecha saw the rains as a punishment from Primus and would pray throughout it all. In small communities it was not uncommon for 'sinners' to be cast out into the rains to try and appease Primus and lessen his wrath. Priests would occasionally take quick strolls through the rain as a test of their resolve and to show their willingness to comply with Primus's demands. And while not religiously founded, recruits in the army or law enforcement also tended to be thrown into the rains now and then to learn to withstand sudden storms. The usages of the rain were wild and unpredictable at best.

While little more than a rumor, there were also tales of mecha who would wander into the rains, seemingly in a daze, and vanish. Said mecha were said to later appear again, half melted and dazed, singing as they led others out with them. Rumors of beasts that hunted while it rained were similarly commonplace during the more youthful days of Cybertron. And while not common during the height of Cybertron's golden age, some places welcomed the rains as a way to get rid of unwanted flora and fauna while the citizens hid underground.

The rains were dangerous, but mecha still managed to have interesting views regarding it. But as a general rule, the rains meant death, and thus were to be avoided.

[spacemagictea]

Drifter Character Sheet

edit: fixed face screenshots cuz turns out I had the wrong aspect ratio the entire bloody time

Birth Name: Kaylessa

Titles: Drifter, Time Freak (‘title’ she gives herself)

Nicknames: Kay, Kayle, Marty, whatever Amir comes up with

Sex/Gender: Female

Birth World: Venus

Home World: Earth

Current Residence: Höllvania

Birthday: 30th June, year ???

Height: 170cm

Weight: middle, she’s got decent muscle

Eye Shape and Color: idk eye shapes well, visual reference above. Color emerald green

Skin Texture and Color: freckled, white, pale-skinned. Her body is littered with scars - arrows, cuts, claws, some burns, most notable however are a prominent scar in the middle of her chest from the usual method of execution by impalement she suffered in Duviri and tendrils of void scarring on her left hand and forearm caused by the severed hand of Lotus merging with her hand in Duviri.

Hair Style and Color: straight hair, usually shoulder length, kept in check with a bandana or tied in a ponytail if she lets it grow longer, crimson red color

Style/Fashion: 

casual wear: somewhat loose, comfy clothing. She loves turtlenecks and flannel. Often found wearing sunglasses and headphones plus a backpack. Pink, purple and black/grey.

battle fit: Armor that resembles Dax armor but with a closed mask with a plume at the top, black base with silver and golden parts and red cloth accents.

Age: Visually 30ish, actual age ??? (she was 13 when the Zariman Incident happened)

Personality Traits: Gentle, kind, honest, reckless, awkward, open-minded, curious, patient, protective

Likes: tea, plants, animals, floofs, books, music, good stories, tinkering with tech, AMIR.

Dislikes: pollution, Indifference, pointless cruelty, ALBRECHT ENTRATI.

Pet Peeves: hard to find whole leaf tea in Höllvania and these teabags SUCK

Habits: always keeps a tea set in places where she spends a lot of time, often fidgets with the bouncy glaives she can summon through her amp, likes to stay up late

Morals: never refuses to help others, tries to approach everyone with kindness, willing to avoid fighting if it’s not necessary, avoids dishonorable combat. She is vengeful, especially against people who hurt the innocent or things/people she cares about.

Phobias: seeing people she cares about die, having to go back to the future with no way to bring the Hex with her

Pros: good listener, will comfort you, bring you tea or any preferred beverage and tell you a story. Considers protecting others her duty. She’ll not disturb you if she doesn’t have to and you can basically chill alongside her doing your own thing.

Cons: often disregards her own well-being and/or safety. Tends to put others before her too much. A bit… touchy. She was very touch starved so if you don’t like hugs or touch, warn her beforehand because she likes to give hugs.

Personal Glories: getting Amir to date her lol 

Personal Trauma: had to kill her older sister when she turned mad because of MITW and as a result she always feels like she failed her in some way. Major survivor’s guilt.

Powers: time looping, Tenno Void powers - while she can perform anything her operator self can do, she has less control over these powers, for example, her void mode/cloak doesn’t always fully protect her or turn her invisible.

Abilities: melee combat, Kaithe riding, pistol/amp shooting. More recent abilities come from the Void powers obtained when she met with her alternate self and became empowered when they chose to have the Drifter be the more active person for the time being. Due to not being used to them yet, she might at times forget that she’s got some of these tools available - mostly concerning focus school abilities. Current main extent includes Void mode/cloak, Void sling, Transference and abilities of the Vazarin/Unairu schools of focus. Still working on the other schools and mastering what she’s currently got. Occasional void mode issues have her try to figure out if she can potentially do the partial void mode on purpose and for example only use the damage protection mode, without the invisibility.

Weapons: Sirocco, a pistol she uses in Duviri, Edun, melee spear she uses in Duviri (I know DE doesn’t let us but she also uses it outside Duviri) and an amp called Flying Blaze, which can project damaging Void energy as either homing, bouncing glaives or a pistol-like blast. When using Warframes, she’s got a variety of weapons to choose from.

Combat Affinity: Flexibility is key. Whether fighting as herself or using a Warframe, she adjusts to the role that is most necessary and controls the battlefield that way. She can switch from attacker to defender and vice versa quickly.

Warframes of choice: Protea Prime, Hildryn Prime, Nova Prime

Social Skills: She’s friendly and open but awkward. Years of isolation make her a bit hesitant at times but if approached, she won’t refuse interaction.

~Relationships~

Lover: Amir. The spark between the two ignited quickly, the common ground helping them develop a friendship that eventually bloomed into much more than that - a true love. They are truly open and vulnerable with each other like with nobody else, sharing their experiences, their nightmares, their joys and their sadness to the full extent. She loves him for all of him. And the most precious thing to her is how he sees beyond her powers and her heroics and sees her as a person. To many, she’s an admirable hero and/or a powerful asset. To Amir, she’s just Kaylessa. 

Family: 

Deceased parents, she forgot their names at this point but she remembers they were kind and loving. They were scholars.

Deceased older sister, Aurelia, who aspired to be an Archimedean and was a great inspiration to young Kay.

The Hex are kind of a found family to her. They’re both best friends and siblings to her (aside from Amir being her lover)

Friends:

Aoi: They enjoy sharing music sessions with fun beverages together. Aoi greatly encouraged Kay to take the step to confess her feelings to Amir and taught her where the most fun date spots are.

Eleanor: They share legends and stories with each other and hold challenging discussions. Eleanor teaches Kay about languages and the state of the world in 1999. She also helped her name her feelings towards Amir and encouraged to take the step further.

Lettie: finding a lot of similarities to her older sister, Kay holds the softest spot for Lettie. She loves to help her with medical duties and making sure that Lettie can earn a moment of respite. And Lettie helps keep Kay grounded.

Arthur: a relationship of great respect and true friendship, Kay helped Arthur open up and evolve as a leader. They also practice cooking together. He made Kaylessa, who used to be a lone wolf, consider how she works with a team more.

Quincy: while she does consider Quincy an asshole at times and still has a slight grudge about his early treatment of Amir, the fact that in the end he tries to do the right thing has her consider him a positive relationship. She finds how he takes care of the kids in Höllvania to be the most noble thing. She helps him find educational resources.

Others:

While she has close relationships to the folks of the present time, she still considers herself quite… separated from them, especially now that she developed deep relationships with the Hex.

The Lotus (Natah): a mother figure to the Operator, Kaylessa’s title of Champion makes her feel a bit weird but working under her guidance has been a great honor.

Teshin: her mentor and a father-like figure, she cares greatly about him and always appreciates his lessons.

Operator Kaylessa has a sibling-like relationship with Drifter Kaylessa, but the main role the Operator took was one of a mentor.

Ordis: Ordis treats both versions of Kay the same way, like a caretaker. To the Drifter, he’s kind of like an uncle.

Loid: a friendly guide, she deeply appreciates his efforts, but has a bit of a hard time telling Loid that if she saw Albrecht ever again, it’s on sight.

The Cavia: the animals are deeply precious to Kay and another big motivation for her vengeance towards Albrecht.

Dominus Thrax: she pities the child king, after all she created him and kind of made him into her personal punishment

Albrecht: enemy number two, after the Indifference

Viktor: enemy number three

Theme Song: Dead Cells - Clock Tower Dead Cells - ClockTower (Official Soundtrack)

What voice I imagine her having: Sandra Nasic from Guano Apes, especially the first three albums era

Biography: Kaylessa’s parents were biology scholars of good renown. Born in one of the first cities built on the terraformed Venus, Kay led a quiet and idyllic life, in tune with nature from birth as her parents took her and her older sister Aurelia on their research expeditions. Aurelia, being 6 years older, made sure to protect her little sister whenever she had an opportunity and show her the world to the best of her understanding.

Boundlessly curious, Kay took up to learning all about plants and animals, giving her parents great hope she’d follow in their footsteps. Her sister was an academic ace, especially excelling in genetics, with an early dream of becoming an Archimedean. The more reserved future Drifter did not think of such ambitious things yet, but she was no less knowledge hungry, often preferring to read books once she was able to read and look at the beauty of the natural world over interacting with others.

When Kaylessa was 10, her family was selected to be among the first colonists of Tau, boarding the fated ship Zariman Ten Zero, which was to be their new home… and ended up being the tomb for most of them. Three years later, she lost everything and everyone she cared about. Forced to kill her sister who turned mad then watching her parents tear each other apart when imprisoned left her with haunting nightmares and a major case of survivor’s guilt.

She ended up stranded on the Zariman when the deal she made with the Man in the Wall made it so everyone else but her was saved. Escaping into Duviri, she ended up stuck for a long, long time, until the New War’s paradox brought her salvation.

She took up a more active role between the two versions of her after emerging, hoping to give her child soldier self some respite from everything that happened. Until she had to travel in the past… and now she does not know if she’ll want to return, unless she finds a way to bring the Hex with her.

Other notes: ADHD and autism traits but do they diagnose that stuff in the far future? Probably not, up to you if because it’s considered a normal thing or because things are just ignored due to everything being gigafucked. She’s left handed so I mirror everything that defaults to right hand to left hand in my mind, like the Lotus hand. She’s demisexual. Her face scars are less prominent but even then, that’s why she got accessories on her to draw attention from the scars away.

------

As you can see I gave her a small look revamp - after they fixed the kiss cut scene it had me notice a few things that I liked more before fixes and some things that pestered me too much so, I adjusted her look.

Character sheet courtesy of @ashandshy https://www.tumblr.com/ashandshy/772406073411960833/drifter-character-sheets-of-2025

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - No Man's Land Event - Day 1

No Man's Land Solo SSR Event | Rebirth Date Part 1 | Date Part 2 | Date Part 3 | Day 1 (You're here!) | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Translation under the cut!

[About the Event]

You will encounter random events and must make the correct choices to survive each day. There are two gauges to monitor: Health and Stamina. If either gauge drops to zero, you will fail to survive the day and have to start over. Successfully surviving the day will earn you stickers for journal and unlock chibi mini story. When Health or Stamina drops below 100 and 50, the chibi sprite will change as well.

[Prologue]

In the slum, a man known as the "City Lord" is methodically injecting a drug into a little girl affected by radiation. He seemingly oblivious to the wolf-like gazes around him, fixated on the medicine and supplies in his box.

[Tell him to run quickly]

I whisper to Lucien, urging him to run away quickly, but Lucien calmly puts his tools back into the medical kit. He looks up at me and says, "Why don't we run away together, my precious test subject?"

[Scare them away.]

I immediately fall to the ground like a drama queen, saying that the radiation in my body is about to get out of control and everyone around me will die as I pretend to take off my isolation suit. Hearing this, everyone scatters in panic. I turn back triumphantly, only to meet a pair of smiling eyes.

[Lucien joins the party]

For this one, any choice you make is correct, and Lucien will join you no matter what you choose ヾ⁠(⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠*⁠)⁠ﾉ Also, since the random events will have more or less the same graphic, I’ll compile the random events and their answer per day after this ~♪

[Random Event Day 1]

1. From a distance, I see a person wearing pink squatting by the garbage heap.

[Observe from a distance]

With his hands over his head like a small umbrella, he looks like a beautiful and elegant king oyster mushroom.

[Ask him if he needs help]

He yells, “Spore attack,” while angrily throwing a lot of garbage at us. He believes he is a pink mushroom and that humans should never initiate a conversation with a mushroom. (Health -20)

2. I am going with Lucien into a moderately polluted radiation zone to collect experimental samples. He emphasizes that proper protective measures must be taken before entering.

[Refuse to put on protection]

I shake my head and say that I am already accustomed to this level of radiation. Lucien looks at me for a long time but does not insist. Finally, when he puts on his protective mask, he expresses envy that I can directly observe the world.

[Put on a protective mask]

I put on a protective mask myself, but because I don't have much experience, I tie the straps too tightly that when I come out, I almost can't breathe. (Health -20)

3. In Lucien’s laboratory, I discover an exceptionally beautiful butterfly with vibrant wings trapped inside a glass dome, gently fluttering its wings.

[Quietly admire it]

Lucien appears behind me without me noticing and says that the butterfly's wing color is caused by radiation. Although it is beautiful, it has to live in the glass container for its entire life.

[Open the glass container to release the butterfly]

The moment the butterfly flies out, the radiation alarm in the lab suddenly blares to life. I run out with the panicked crowd, only to find out that the radiation levels in the room have suddenly skyrocketed by several hundred times. (Stamina -20)

4. Seeing two trees growing side by side with branches extending horizontally and intertwining, they look like they are holding hands at first glance.

[Find it amusing ]

I find it amusing and tell the person next to me, "Look, they are holding hands." Unexpectedly, he also takes my hand and asks, "Is it like this?" (Health +5)

[Separate them]

Driven by a mischievous impulse, I decide to separate these "good friends" and take out a knife to cut the intertwined branches. Unexpectedly, the cut branches emit a pungent gas, and I pass out from the fumes. (Health -30)

5. I notice a small, bloody scratch on my arm that I don't remember getting.

[Ignore it]

A minute later, it heals on its own. (Health +5)

[Cry out in pain]

My cry attracts a pack of vicious dogs, and we end up running away from them, exhausting ourselves in the process. (Stamina -30)

6. Passing by a giant incinerator billowing thick smoke, it's said that those who die from severe radiation or viral infections are ultimately sent here.

[Approach for a closer look]

The incinerator's temperature is much higher than expected, and in almost an instant, we feel dizzy from the heat. (Health -20)

[Stop and watch quietly]

I watch the thick smoke from the chimney gradually dissipate into the sky. I silently wish that they may be reborn into a warm and peaceful world in their next life.

7. Suddenly, I find a giant mutated mosquito on my arm, sucking my blood!

[Use smoke]

I remember that most insects are afraid of smoke, so I quickly light the surrounding dry grass to fill the area with smoke. Sure enough, no mosquitoes come to bother me anymore.

[Smack it]

I slap it with all my might, causing my arm to redden and swell up quickly. The mosquito, however, flies away leisurely with its bulging belly. (Health -20)

8. Encountering a cloaked cultist, he mysteriously claims that by believing in the Sun God Cult, one can avoid all calamities and live a life free from want.

[Question the cultist]

I skeptically ask the cultist if he is currently living the life he described. He becomes flustered and angrily leaves.

[Pray to the cult]

While I am praying, the cultist secretly reaches into my pocket, steals my supplies, and runs away, self-righteously declaring, "This is a tribute to the great cult leader!" (Stamina -20)

T/N: Sun God Cult is a reference to ZQL/Kiro's Post-Apocalypse AU date. There are also will be a reference to LZY/Victor's zone (Zone L) in one of the future random events, so yeah, you can say that all the dates are happening in the same verse.

9. I see a person gulping water from a rusty pipe by the roadside. Just as I consider asking for a cup, I notice the water splashing on the ground shimmers with a rainbow-like metallic sheen—it's contaminated wastewater!

[Walk away silently]

I watch this person drinking the water with a creepy smile, exclaiming, "Delicious! Delicious!" Feeling a chill, I think he has his own life path, so I silently walk away. (Stamina -5)

[Step forward to warn him]

I approach to warn him that the water is undrinkable, but he warmly invites me to drink with him. The strong, pungent smell of the water makes me feel nauseous. (Health -20)

[Reading Time]

MC: ….(・_・??)

Lucien: What's wrong, is there something you don't understand?

MC: It's okay, I can do it.

MC: This is our agreed daily reading time.

MC: I will definitely live up to this teacher's expectations, so I need to work hard to overcome this challenge on my own first.

Lucien: (*￣⁠︶⁠￣) Okay, but don't push yourself too hard.

Lucien: After all, I'm still very happy to help you with any questions.

MC: Okay, teacher!

MC: What are you reading today?

Lucien: "Research on Genetic Breeding and Industrial Development of of Agaricus bisporus in Extreme Cold Environments."

Lucien: I found it in a basement a while ago; it's quite interesting.

MC: (°0°) Sounds so highbrow...

MC: I'll get back to reading.

MC: ….(・_・??)

Lucien: Let's talk about it. Maybe you're just stuck in some misunderstanding and only need a little correction to continue.

MC: QAQ Woohoo, Lucien, what does "utilizing thermonuclear fission, which is a nuclear fission triggered by low-energy neutrons" mean?

MC: And what is "alpha particles of radium radiation"?

Lucien: …

Lucien: Wait a minute, (*￣⁠︶⁠￣) what book are you reading?

MC: "Overview of Nuclear Physics," it’s called an overview, so it should be basic knowledge, right?

MC: You just taught me about protons and neutrons yesterday!

Lucien: (*￣⁠︶⁠￣)...

Lucien: Sorry, I think I gave you the wrong book. You should be reading this one today.

MC: OAO "Illustrated Guide to Physics"…?

[redfilledfantasies]

Invigorated Muscle (Chapter 5 of 8)

Carmella’s fingers hovered momentarily above the polished surface of the examination table, steady in their deliberate intent. She plucked two diminutive wireless transmitters—no larger than beads—from their pristine nests, feeling the smooth coolness like a silent promise of discovery. The sterile air of the room held a charged expectancy as she prepared to bridge the gap between flesh and machine, the Erwachte Pumpe’s quiet hum waiting to breathe life into every pulse beneath her watchful gaze.

The room around her glimmered with clinical clarity, pale walls reflecting the harsh light of overhead fixtures that cast everything in razor-sharp definition. The machine itself sat ready—sleek panels and soft, blinking indicators framed by glass and steel that seemed almost reverent in their craftsmanship. Carmella lifted the control tablet, her fingers sliding across its surface with quiet confidence as she confirmed system readiness. This machine, she thought, was unlike any other: its ability to detect a heartbeat with pristine clarity, free from interference or noise pollution, was revolutionary. Each valve closing, each ventricle’s forceful push, could be heard as though the skin and bone shielding the heart had vanished entirely—unveiling the primal rhythm beneath in extraordinary detail.

“The Erwachte Pumpe,” Carmella mused softly, voice steady but tinged with something more—fascination, perhaps a whisper of desire. It captured cardiac symphonies with an intimacy impossible to replicate by conventional methods, translating the invisible ballet of blood and muscle into waves of sound that resonated deep within the body’s core.

With the stage set, she turned toward Bailey first. The younger woman waited quietly, her petite frame still radiating the tight discipline of athletic conditioning beneath the soft glow of sterile lights. Bailey’s brows furrowed in tentative invitation, lips parting slightly as she seemed to steel herself against the ever-present swirl of nerves that shadowed her confidence. Carmella’s gaze lingered momentarily, noting the sharp pulse fluttering faintly against the smooth, pale skin just beneath the collarbone—a heartbeat visible at the apex of the chest, strong and steady at around seventy beats per minute.

Bailey’s fingers moved with shy assurance, deftly lifting the edge of her crimson sports bra just enough to expose the gentle curve of her apex. Her hazel eyes flickered up to Carmella’s face for permission before holding steady. The flush in her cheeks was subtle but undeniable, betraying the mingled blend of anticipation and vulnerability folded tightly within her. Carmella responded with a soft nod, the careful professional mask slipping into place with practiced ease.

Her hands approached the exposed skin with reverence, the small transmitter cool against her fingertips as she placed it delicately just above the heart’s visible pulse. The bead-sized device settled firmly against Bailey’s warm skin, nestling like a secret sentry against the living landscape of muscle and blood beneath. Carmella’s breath steadied, her mind already turning through the data that would soon pour in—rate, rhythm, stroke volume—all unfolding in silent code beneath the surface.

Bailey’s lithe form held still, chest rising and falling with controlled breath, the faint sheen of exertion highlighting the sculpted muscles beneath her slender shoulders. Her nervous energy pulsed quietly, restrained beneath layers of resolve as Carmella took a moment to admire the harmony between brain and brawn. There was something exquisitely fragile yet fiercely determined in the way Bailey balanced shyness and strength, her body an eloquent declaration that spoke louder than words.

Moving from the reserved intensity of Bailey, Carmella’s gaze shifted toward Lydia. The taller woman had claimed the far corner of the room as her own domain, fluidly drawing the room’s energy into her orbit. She was in motion—limbs stretched wide in a perfect standing split, the elegant grace of the pose carved sharply against the soft wash of clinical light. Every taut sinew, every defined curve, spoke of years devoted to discipline and controlled strength. Bronzed skin gleamed faintly with a subtle film of sweat, tracing the tense muscles with a fine, luminous sheen.

Lydia’s balance was immaculate, her powerful form a study in poised control as she held the stretch with quiet command. The deep breath she exhaled seemed to ripple through the room—a low murmur carried on still air, an unspoken herald of readiness. When she finally released the pose, rising smoothly with slow, deliberate grace, Carmella allowed herself a flicker of admiration. The lithe arch of Lydia’s back, the fluid strength winding down her legs, all conjured a hypnotic blend of power and sensuality that tugged faintly at the edges of Carmella’s restraint.

Carmella approached, reaching out with steady hands as Lydia’s skin welcomed the second transmitter, placing it just above the apex of her own thunderous pulse. Lydia’s gaze locked onto Carmella’s with a smoldering intensity, her voice a soft, deliberate whisper that sliced through the taut air. “Sorry, Dr. Hill, my heart seems to be eagerly awaiting this test.”

Carmella felt the words brush past her like heated silk, igniting a cascade of sensation beneath the chill of clinical detachment. She drew a measured breath, centering herself with practiced calm and a tightening of discipline. “We proceed as planned,” she said quietly, a thin wall of professionalism built against the invitation woven into Lydia’s voice.

Turning back to the center of the room, Carmella’s eyes met those of both women—steadfast, breath caught, muscles coiled and waiting. “We will begin with two minutes of burpees,” she instructed, voice cool and unwavering. “Push yourselves as hard as you can while I monitor your cardiac performance.”

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation—the faint click of electronics humming to life the only sound in the room that held its breath alongside them. Two bodies, poised at the threshold of exertion, were ready to send their hearts racing into the crucible of strain and measurement. Carmella’s own pulse mirrored the rising tension, a quickened drumbeat beneath the calm facade, echoing the untold rhythms soon to fill the room with life.

Carmella’s hand trembled only slightly as she tapped the control panel, the Erwachte Pumpe stirring to life with a soft cascade of hums and flickers. The sleek machine, a monument to human ingenuity, drew in breath like a silent sentinel awakening from slumber. Every light blinked alive, and beneath the clinical glow, a surge of expectancy radiated—the moment where flesh and instrument merged, a gateway to revelations yet unimagined.

With deliberate care, Carmella selected transmitter one. The sudden clarity cut through the sterile air like a striking chord—Lydia’s heartbeat broadcast across the room with astonishing fidelity, each beat a thunderous hymn proclaiming the fierce, relentless mastery of an athlete at her peak.

The speakers carried the sound without interference, unfiltered and pristine, as if the thick shield of skin, bone, and muscle had vanished to expose the heart’s raw music laid bare. Carmella’s breath caught, eyes narrowing as she leaned forward. Each contraction echoed with astonishing definition: the low, cavernous thud of ventricles compressing blood, the crisp snap of valves closing—a flawless cadence at 148 beats per minute, perfectly synchronized, unwavering.

She closed her eyes briefly, allowing herself to be enveloped by the rhythm. It was a living symphony—precise, commanding, and raw. Her mind raced to interpret the unspoken language beneath the sound: stroke volume soaring beyond expected limits, ventricular walls flexing with seamless compliance, the aortic valve’s delicate closure ringing with delicate but fierce sharpness.

Amidst her technical calculation, a subtle tremor rose within—tingles prickling down her spine as the primal resonance of power and endurance pulsed through the speakers. It was as if the heart were confessing its own story directly to her nerves, coaxing curiosity, fascination, and something more intimate that blossomed beneath her professional veneer.

Lydia’s voice broke through the charged hush, carrying with it a tone both teasing and assured. “The valves opening and closing sound incredible, don’t they, doctor?” Her breath hitched mid-exertion, a glimmer of triumphant delight flashing through her sapphire eyes as she pushed herself through the burpees with the effortless strength of a practiced elite athlete.

Carmella dared not contradict the statement, her throat tightening with the invisible threads the heartbeat wove through her body. Each snap and thud seemed to shiver along her spine, raising hairs and igniting forgotten pathways of sensation long held in check by restraint. She nodded subtly, forcing the sharp exhale that willed away the sudden rush swelling inside. The scientific curiosity was undeniable, but intertwined was a tender seed of awe—a powerful organ laid vulnerable and glorious before her ears.

Lydia’s movements never faltered. Arms pumped with mechanical precision; legs hammered into the floor with steady purpose. Carmella’s gaze shifted, tracing the controlled explosion of power wrapped in smooth, bronzed skin. She imagined the turbulent torrent of blood, the cascade of pressure that raged inside the chest wall, each beat echoing through her own being in quiet defiance of time.

After a long moment of intimate immersion, Carmella’s fingers hovered once more over the control panel. With a practiced flick, she disengaged transmitter one and selected transmitter two. The air in the room seemed to shift—the machine’s sensors tuning into a different rhythm, a different story whispered in sound waves.

Bailey’s heartbeat emerged with a force both startling and magnificent. The sounds that poured from the speakers possessed a raw intensity difficult to comprehend. Each ventricular contraction surged like thunder, violent in its determination to flood vessels with life-giving blood. Valves snapped shut with a decisive, almost aggressive sharpness, their rhythm fierce and unyielding.

The sound sculpted the space—no gentle melody but a brutal, beautiful charge, as if Bailey’s heart were a warrior’s drum calling battle. Carmella’s chest rose as she absorbed the power—the explosive push of muscle overcoming resistance, stroke volume sustained at an exquisite peak even as breath heaved against exertion.

Her gaze found Bailey’s steady frame in motion—smaller, yet compact and robust, each movement deliberate and sharp. The heart rate held firm at a consistent 120 beats per minute, a testimony to remarkable endurance as Bailey danced through the burpees with surprising ease, the quiet sheen of sweat shining beneath stark lights.

No falter marked the young woman’s efforts—her pulse remained strong, the strength of her heart echoing resilience without hint of surrender or fatigue. Carmella’s breath caught as she balanced clinical observation with a swell of admiration—here was a vital force pushing boundaries without collapsing beneath the weight.

The two heartbeats played out in tandem—a fierce dialogue of power and precision, a duet of relentless drive beneath the sharp hum of machines. Carmella’s skin tingled where unseen forces pulled at her nerves, the tension in the room a delicate wire stretched taut between science and a more primal fascination.

Even as their bodies burned with effort, Carmella noted the balance of energy and control, the symphony of muscle and blood that spoke of secrets written not in words, but in the pulse beneath flesh. The Erwachte Pumpe, in its flawless capture of these hearts, had become an oracle revealing the raw poetry of life and endurance—unshielded and breathtaking.

The moment held, thick with promise, as Carmella continued to listen—caught between analysis and wonder, the fragile cusp where cold knowledge melted into heated awe.

The final burpee fell into place with a sharp, commanding slap, the air vibrating with exertion and unspoken triumph. Sweat gleamed along taut muscles, breaths heaving in tandem with relentless heartbeats. Carmella’s eyes darted to the illuminated panel, digits burning bright as they etched themselves into certainty: Lydia, fifty-six. Bailey, sixty. Both had shattered unspoken ceilings, their performances far beyond the predictable thresholds of mere mortals.

She allowed herself a breathless exclamation—“Outstanding”—a word suspended in awe, barely whispered as the currents of admiration and astonishment flooded her senses. The utterance caught in the charged room like a delicate spark against tinder.

But in her rising emotion, her finger slipped—a sudden press silenced the symphony of hums and beeps, and the Erwachte Pumpe went dark, plunging the room into clinical quietude that rang sharply in contrast to the moment’s fiery culmination.

The absence of sound echoed like a gasp, thick with anticipation unspent. Lydia’s sharp breath cut through the stillness. “That was nice,” she declared with casual brightness, muscles still taut as steel. “But I’m looking forward to the next test, Dr. Hill.”

Carmella inhaled slowly, gathering the fragments of her composure amid the racing pulses. “You should recover first,” she cautioned gently, an undertone of wary care threading her voice. “A brief rest will allow your hearts to recalibrate—ensure we capture accurate recovery rates.”

But Lydia’s eyes flashed with impatient fire, a silent storm crackling in their depths. “I am ready. You can hear it.” Her words weren’t mere assertion but a promise carried on the wild rhythm of her own heartbeat—a challenge laid bare.

Reluctantly, Carmella’s fingers found the control panel once again, rekindling the machine’s glow as the familiar hum rippled through the room like a living tide returning. The speakers breathed life once more, eager to reveal the hidden stories within each returning pulse.

Lydia’s heart emerged first, its pounding cadence shifting swiftly from fierce exertion to measured power. Within thirty seconds, the tempo eased dramatically to seventy-two beats per minute, each beat rich and full-bodied like a softened roar that hinted at hidden reservoirs of strength. The steady thump-thud rang with renewed vitality, valves sliding closed with measured precision, blood rushing through vessels that sang of resilience.

Even more remarkable was Bailey’s recovery—the machine captured her heart slowing to sixty-six beats per minute in a staggering twenty-four seconds. The power behind each beat seemed amplified in this quiet moment of reprieve, ventricles contracting with muscular might, valves snapping sharply as if asserting dominion over the still currents flowing through her body.

Carmella’s breath hitched—an involuntary quiver threading through her ribs as the pounding waves of life echoed with intimate clarity against her skin. The tingling sensation blossomed, slow and insistent, beginning deep in the hollow beneath her sternum and unfurling outward like flames licking at nerve endings. Her own heart matched the crescendo, hammering fiercely as desire bloomed alongside scientific fascination.

Her mouth grew dry; a bead of moisture clung stubbornly at her lips despite the furnace burning within. Eyes fluttered shut briefly as she wrenched a slow, shaking breath, summoning the will to remain the composed guardian of protocol. Yet beneath her skin, a silent dance played on—pulse entwined with raw attraction, professionalism fraying like thread against wind.

The room was heavy with the invisible threads binding these beating hearts—a nexus of endurance, power, and something far more fragile and electric. Lydia and Bailey exchanged subtle glances, muscles easing as they prepared to shift into the next phase. The unspoken communication of readiness moved between them, a shared oath framed by silent smiles and steady breaths.

Carmella rose, the faint stiffness in her legs a reminder of the tension contained. She stepped forward with measured poise, voice low and calm but weighted with quiet fire. “You’re ready to proceed,” she confirmed, her gaze sweeping over the two women, capturing the gleam of determination shining through their exertion-warmed skin.

Their nods were prompt, the silent commitment as crisp as the clack of polished shoes on hardwood as they moved toward the waiting treadmills. Carmella followed, each step echoing the thrum of possibility that coiled beneath her careful control.

With a final tap, the equipment awakened—the treadmills humming steadily as if breathing life into the challenge ahead. Carmella’s fingers skimmed the console with practiced assurance, activating the settings calibrated for maximum speed. The air shifted once more, taut with the impending fusion of exertion and revelation.

Together, the trio stood poised—heartbeats ready to unleash another chapter in this intimate, relentless study of power and endurance. The night stretched before them, an unwritten pulse beckoning beneath Manhattan’s glittering skyline.

[felixcloud6288]

PMMM episode 9-12 recap

Mami's story is about how being a Magical Girl is tragic. Sayaka's story is about what happens when a Magical Girl cannot handle the despair of their life. Homura's story is about clinging to hope even in a hopeless situation.

Prior to this point, the Magical Girl system was presented as flawed and broken. Girls are chosen to protect the world from witches and in exchange, they are granted a wish to fulfill some great desire of theirs.

However, being a Magical Girl is an ultimately thankless job fraught with peril both from witches and other Magical Girls of dubious morals.

But with the reveal that Magical girls are just juvenile witches, we learn that the system is neither flawed nor broken. It is working exactly as intended. And now the mask comes off.

If I had prior knowledge of the series, it would be more appropriate to include episode 9 in the previous recap because episodes 5-9 are a whole arc to themselves. But I guess that's what happens when you do blind discussions.

Sayaka and Kyouko's arc is focused on the duality of hope and despair. Both made a wish to bring hope to someone only for that wish to bring them despair. And they had opposite reactions to it. Kyouko decided to shut herself away and live only for herself while Sayaka doubled down and continued to let herself be hurt in some vain attempt to say her life has meaning.

If I were to make an allegory to any real world aspects, Sayaka and Kyouko's story is about suicidal depression and episode 9 is when it reaches that point where the victim has decided to go through with it.

Kyouko's entire strategy to save Sayaka essentially boiled down to bringing the people who care about her together to help Sayaka recover from her heartbreak and sorrow. But when that fails because everything has become too much for Sayaka to handle, Kyouko chooses to stay by Sayaka to the end so that she won't die alone and think she wasn't loved.

With each episode, Kyubey becomes more and more open about how the entire system is intended to exploit girls rather than help them. And he ultimately intends to abandon humanity to be destroyed by the witches created by this system when he has everything he needs.

It's kind of like a corporation coming in saying it will boost the local economy so you should let it do as it pleases. And over time, it drives out the local population because people start moving in to work there, land is torn down to make more room for the corporation, and the soil, air, and water become polluted because the corporation controls the system and can do what it wants.

But all the money goes to the executives and when there's no more value to be had, the corporation abandons the area leaving behind destroyed land and a destroyed community that will now die because of what the corporation did.

Kyubey's remarks that his species calls emotions a mental illness just adds even further to the exploitative nature of the system. The system is meant to target beings who by his definition would be more vulnerable.

And his method of only giving half-truths or withholding information unless explicitly asked is an aspect of this exploitation. He's deliberately presenting things in a way that preys upon human vulnerabilities. He even admits that his species studied humans and found that young girls going through puberty were the ideal targets and then catered the system specifically to target them.

Kinda like how games with gacha elements are designed to exploit people with gambling addictions.

And since the power that is made from a magical girl becoming a witch is tied to her role on fate, Kyubey is really only interested in targeting people born into high positions or with great skill. Basically, Kyubey is propping up those who exist because of survivorship bias.

I'd wondered why he didn't just go to some war-torn nation and offer a contract to every girl about to die, and I guess it's because they would offer so little power that Kyubey deemed them worthless.

Meanwhile, girls from prosperous nations have far more potential to have an impact on the world, so Kyubey hangs around nations like Japan where he can look for big potential targets while also getting some decent secondary targets.

Anyway, I'm going to move onto Homura. I got really into talking about episode 10 and how it recontextualizes the entire series so I'm going to focus more on episodes 11 and 12.

Everything Homura is doing is to save Madoka. At first, she wanted to restart when she met her so they could fight side-by-side. But then she discovered the truth of the system and fought to save Madoka from her fated death or transformation after the walpurgis night.

And since hope and despair exist together, the more Homura fought to save Madoka, the more aggressively Kyubey tried to make Madoka a magical girl. With each new timeline formed, Madoka's potential grew because every timeline tied back to her.

Homura's story is about her fighting against the despair that comes with being a magical girl. She tries to cling to hope in a situation that is hopeless. Each time she fails to save Madoka, she tries again, only for the next attempt to become even more difficult than the last one. She always managed to push back the inevitable, but in the end, she always lost.

And at the end of this story, Homura still never achieved her goal. She never managed to stop Madoka from becoming a magical girl, and it ultimately resulted in Madoka vanishing from existence. This should be the moment of ultimate despair for Homura where all her efforts come to nothing.

Madoka struggles with feeling inadequate. She initially wanted a rather tautological wish. She was going to become a magical girl by wishing to be a magical girl. She thought being a magical girl would give her the chance to help others, make the world better, and ensure her life mattered in some way. And her wish ultimately is an extension of that. She wished to be helpful to all magical girls who ever did and would exist by becoming the hope that drives them and chases away despair.

In the new world Madoka created, Mami, Kyouko, and Sayaka still became magical girls; and Sayaka still despaired over how her wish turned out. But instead of becoming a witch - a being that represents despair - Madoka took Sayaka from the world and showed her what happened to Kyousuke because of her wish.

Madoka showed Sayaka that her life mattered in some way.

Homura's wish and desires ultimately can never come true. But instead of giving into despair as she would in the old system, she's been given a new hope and purpose. Madoka became the very embodiment of hope thanks to Homura's efforts. And as the only person who will ever remember Madoka, Homura is now able to start the next phase of her life where Madoka's words echo in her ears and she shows that Madoka's life matters.

Homura should try spreading Madoka's name around as the patron saint of magical girls. Madoka is literally the goddess of hope who protects magical girls in this new universe.

back

[vladacatfire]

Sleeping Hunk au pt2 🌺

This is an alternative universe of my story that kinda based on sleeping beauty fairytale.

Sometimes we strive to achieve our goals, and on the way we can choose a completely terrible way to achieve them. So, Auntie Digitalis..someone who has always been a support for young Virginia. She listened and memorized every new trick that her niece mastered in secret from her relatives. Well, Digitalis is honing her strength on her own. To be honest, she ended up being just as much a neo-buddhist as the other adults in the village, although her attitude to magic is different. She believes that magic can help nature achieve its "goals," such as cleaning up everything related to progress. Once again, the desire to control prevails over reason, the desire to shut everyone in the village from the outside world, especially her precious niece from "the nonsense and unclean filth from the mouth of a red-haired girl and a red-faced pest that washes Virginia's poor head." It's just obvious that little Virginia, by virtue of her oppositional nature, flared up with rage and resentment at all the lies and madness that her once beloved aunt follows. Having clothed the entire community in thorny grassy thickets, Digitalis did not expect to be rebuffed by the one she wanted so much, as it seemed to her, to protect. Looking at the fearful eyes of her once neighbors and relatives, the gazes of anxiety of those who dared to "mess up the brains" of her baby Virginia, who now only looked at her aunt with anger and contempt, Digitalis had to leave the village hiding in a place unknown to anyone. Gradually, both Virginia's parents and others in the community are trying to adapt to live in harmony with progress. Many of them, of course, are not ready for a big life surrounding themselves with electricity. Makril, Masha and Virginia were able to introduce the simple joys of cycling, the use of magic and spells showed many that it is possible to use the forces of progress without wasting the resources of nature. In general, for a long time, the younger part of this Faun community began to move away from the old, almost completely rural serf conditions. Of course, many old grandparents could not be persuaded due to their age, but the rest studied more deeply the methods of modern technologies in the fight against pollution. What did their faces cost from explaining the principle of solar panels)) Virginia is not afraid to play with her best friend now, because Masha and Mak are always welcome now. Who else but our big guy to sponsor the residents with book gifts and training in the basics of magic and witchcraft. ……………… But what is Digitalis capable of in the end? Who would suddenly be pierced by a thorn of plants from her magic so full of poison? After all, now, her words:

"All my relatives, my friends and neighbors, my native land, is rotting from alien weeds. And the pests are as usual…you have to poison them if you want to get rid of them…" Will she ever be able to realize the results of her actions, the result of the path she chose … Because one of her actions can ignite a large flame of someone else's rage…