ships that have a permanent rotation in my brain : edelclaude (fe3h/few3h), monigard (fe3h), durgeheart (bg3), kiradax (ds9)

LIKE THEYLL ALWAYS JUST ROTATE im always thinking abt them more or less

Human and rodent placentation is hemochorial, the fetomaternal interaction between the two blood circulations involving direct physical interaction between maternal blood and the chorionic trophoblasts.

The mechanism by which cells are exchanged across the placental barrier is unclear. Possible explanations include deportation of trophoblasts, microtraumatic rupture of the placental blood channels or that specific cell types are capable of adhesion to the trophoblasts of the walls of the fetal blood channels and migration through the placental barrier created by the trophoblasts. Intervillous thrombi containing mixed maternal and fetal cells occur in the fetal placenta/labyrinth.44,45 Histological defects in the continuity of the trophoblasts lining the vasculature of the placenta are also reported.46,47 Together these observations suggest the possibility that fetomaternal hemorrhage within the fetal placenta/labyrinth may allow exchange of cells between the fetal and maternal circulation. Microtraumatic dislodgment of trophoblasts from the trophoblast-lined blood channels through which the maternal blood passes may also explain why trophoblasts appear in maternal circulation. The microtraumatic hypothesis of cell exchange does not appear consistent with the hypothesis that fetomaternal microchimerism may be of adaptive value to the fetus but fits well with the hypothesis that fetomaternal microchimerism is an epiphenomenon of pregnancy with potential pathological consequences.

An alternative hypothesis is that cells cross the placental barrier by mechanisms akin to the active adhesion and transmigration that occurs across high endothelial venule (HEV) endothelium in peripheral lymph nodes and at the blood-brain barrier (BBB).48 Intriguingly, in the mouse at least some of the fetal cells that enter the mother are also capable of crossing the blood brain barrier into the brain.35,49

Fetomaternal microchimerism appears to occur with great frequency following human pregnancy. It has been suggested that fetomaternal traffic occurs in all pregancies.14 Moreover fetal cells are reported to persist in the mother for decades. Male cells have been found in maternal blood even decades after pregnancy,7,77 including in one case in which the women was last pregnant with a male child 27 years earlier.7 Fetal cells also may persist for even longer after engrafting maternal bone marrow14 and perhaps other organs. By engrafting into niches such as the bone marrow, fetal cells may also be able to proliferate and reinfiltrate blood or other tissues later. There is strong evidence that fetal cells with the characteristics of mesenchymal cells do engraft the bone marrow. Male DNA was detected in 48% of CD34-enriched apheresis products from nonpregnant female marrow donors.1 Male cells were also detected in all bone marrow samples from women who had previously been pregnant with males, including one woman who was last pregnant with a son 51 years earlier.14

The absence of Y chromosome markers in samples from women who had never born sons in some studies14 strongly supports the argument that the male cells observed originate from the fetus. However, it is important to note that there are crucial caveats in the use of the Y chromosome alone as a marker for fetomaternal microchimerism that may have led to over estimation of the incidence and persistence of fetomaternal microchimerism in humans. Male cells have been found in the blood of women without sons.78,79 Male cells may occur in the blood of as many as 8–10% of healthy women without sons and no known history of abortion.79 It has been speculated that the male cells arise from unrecognized spontaneous abortions, vanished male twins, an older brother transferred by the maternal circulation, or sexual intercourse. However, a history of unrecognized spontaneous abortions or sexual intercourse cannot explain all cases of the presence of male cells in females as another study detected the presence of the Y chromosome in normal liver from seven of eleven female fetuses and five of six female children.80 Such microchimerism may be best explained, by fetofetal transfer from an undetected vanishing male twin or maternofetal transfer of male cells harbored by the mother. Estimates of the frequency of vanishing twins range from 3.7–100% of pregnancies81 however not all twins share connected placenta vasculature, especially at the early stages of development at which many twins disappear. Maternofetal transfer to the mother may also have occurred if the mother's mother had a history of blood transfusion, transplantation or previous pregnancy with a male fetus. It is difficult to estimate how frequently male cells in females could arise as a result of fetofetal or maternofetal transfer. Although one might expect such events to be rare, the incidence may be high enough to have biased estimates of the incidence of fetomaternal microchimerism in humans. While the possibility that the Y chromosome could also enter the mother via microchimerism as a consequence of previous blood transfusion or transplantation has been considered in most studies, the possibility that male cells detected in the mother may have arrived via fetofetal or maternofetal transfer to the mother in utero has not be systematically excluded. Conclusive proof of fetomaternal microchimerism in humans would require the use of other paternal markers that differentiate between the father of the fetus and the father of the mother. One scenario might be to investigate cases where the mother and the mother's father share a genetic mutation or polymorphism not carried by the father of the fetus. In such cases, evidence of genetic markers derived from the father of the fetus in the mother could provide more conclusive evidence of fetomaternal microchimerism in humans. If the genetic mutation or polymorphism caused disease the presence of fetal cells in the diseased tissue could also offer evidence of the potential of fetomaternal tissue repair.

I took a little break from my usual series to post the 1500th fic in the Kalluzeb ship tag :3 (because yeah I’m like that apparently lol). It’s an idea I’ve had for a while, inspired by Wicked, one of my favourite musicals 💚🖤🤍

Whilst it’s separate from my main Kalluzeb series, this little ficlet does actually build on something that will happen there (though twenty or so more parts down the line lol; I am Ambitious), and as such could be seen as a little teaser for the main series 👀

Summary: Kallus is about to leave the Rebellion to reinfiltrate the Empire, and him and Zeb have to say goodbye, not knowing whether they will ever see each other again.

brb reinfiltrating the toxic Skyrim fandom just to see if I can lmao

Typically in cRPGs I’m like “whatever idgaf just spam my attacks” but I be fearing for my mf life in Baldur’s gate 3. Like I’m on my hand and knees praying to god every turn. If I don’t get first round then I know I’m cooked. If I miss a single shot then I’m through. I got war stories of me tryna reinfiltrate the Goblin Camp because I helped them raid the Druid Grove then turned on them for not worshipping Lolth.

Super Dry Skin Skincare Guide!

Dry skin is the strongest barrier system, as long as it is not messed up, it is almost the most delicate skin on the surface! It is a type that no skin type can achieve through skin care and medical beauty.

However, the skin with such a strong defense system also has problems, that is, it is difficult to retain some large molecular components on the skin, like "floating powder", which is suspended on the surface, and the durability is not good.

How do we reverse that? Desert to oasis!

General principle: polish first, then infiltrate the keratin, and finally seal the insurance layer

1 Polish first:

Love the cotton again! With the help of the polishing of the cotton sheet, the macromolecular moisturizer can be well stuck in the crevices of the cuticle. In the first step, dip a cotton piece into any skin care product you like, water, essence, lotion, cream can be used. First, gently polish and polish with the infiltrated cotton piece, so that the cuticle of the skin is temporarily in a state of shock. When it is weak, then fill in moisturizing ingredients, you can really effectively moisturize!

2 Reinfiltrate:

This step you can start daily skin care products, be sure to have a water-soluble product that can infiltrate the keratin, can be essence water, can also be moisturizing essence, and then superposition functional classes, such as whitening, anti-aging.

3 sealing layer preservation:

This step adds real oil, not volatile drying oil! Then top it off with an oily cream! Two-pronged approach for effective sealing! Less during the day to make room for base makeup. At night, please add as much oil as you can to stay on your face and not nourish your pillow!

4. Special attention is paid to

Where the air is dry (such as air-conditioned room, greenhouse, cabin), spray water to fill the moisturizer with moisture, otherwise the moisturizer will absorb the moisture in the stratum corneum and cause it to pull dry!

I just have more questions I guess like obviously he’s going to have to assume another form in order to reinfiltrate eregion to create the sixteen and then steal them so is that going to our annatar figure?? why wouldn’t galadriel and elrond say something?? what’s his deal with Adar?? is pharazôn going to pick him up after the sack of eregion in season 2??

◾When you drew one chapter for a whole year and finally finished:

/Warning: LOUD/

◾It's been a year since I started publishing my comic(April 15th or 14th, depends on the timezone again). And finally I have completed the first chapter! This is an achievement for me!

◾I am glad to the people who are still here and watching the progress of the story, thank you)

◾I will try very hard to continue to make this story interesting. If I can, then you will be with me for a long time. Because about 10 chapters are planned

◾I hope that I can finish it all in at least 5 years. Because in 10 years, no one will need this comic anymore lol <:'D

◾Well, expect the second chapter. Time to Reinfiltrate the Airship✨

/also a couple of drawings are in the process. In honor of 1 year ;)/

Ranboo: so I need advice, I have a problem and-

Tommy: fake your death, dye your hair, move to a tropical beach in the middle of nowhere, change your name to Lucinda, marry rich, cry when it is revealed that your older, rich husband died in a freak jet ski accident, inherit his company, get into organized crime, reinfiltrate the government you were exiled from, cause chaos anonymously.

Seduce a mob boss from a neighboring city and elope, tell him everything, fake your deaths again, run away together, tip off the police to your old mob which is now in chaos after your disappearance, they search for you but they’re looking for Lucinda Gale, and your name is Taylor Jenkins now.

Give up your life of crime, settle with your new husband in a small town in the country, open a cafe together, hire a pretty waitress named Alice, have a torrid affair with her, tell her that your husband is a former mob boss on the run, but nothing of your backstory. Convince her to help you kill him and hide the body.

Marry Alice, adopt twin toddlers who show up on your doorstep in a storm, name them Crystal and Cedar, they adore you. Live happily for fifteen years before a familiar figure shows up at the cafe. Your older brother, who now that you look at him, looks so much like the twins.

In a panic light the cafe stove on fire, spill oil everywhere and trap Alice inside, leave out the back door with nothing but the clothes on your back.

Change your name to Clarence DeVol, make your living as a traveling salesman in the desert. You’ve almost forgotten why you are running, but you don’t stop.

One day your travels take you back to the city you started in, and find it a ghost town. In one of the large buildings a man your age rests alone, the sole occupant of the abandoned city. You know him, and he knows you. You cry into each other’s arms.

The door bursts open, it’s Crystal. She’s holding her blood father’s crossbow. She looks like she’s been crying. two crossbow bolts fire into your chest. You die with a smile.

Ghostbur: ...Tommy are you okay?

Name: Errol Woolf

Age: 50 years of age

District: First -- Luxury & Textiles

Magic: None

Occupation: Academy Trainer

Opinion on the Games: Against, Legion Leader

Errol Woolf was dead.

That was what the headline read when the rebellion had stretched its fingers into the Capitol during the Quarter Quell. He had been in the wrong place, they lamented. Such a dedicated man, such a proud trainer. Had some of the best Careers, knew what he was doing. The list went on.

Errol Woolf was dead.

Or was he?

Errol had been doubting everything he knew, watching as every child he sent to the games died or slaughtered their own. After a while, it had become something he could no longer bear. The rebellion, no matter how much of it had been torn to shreds by Zira and her vengeance, had been his way to find himself an out, a new card to deal into the deck.

He began working alongside others who wanted to rebuild the Legion, Errol at the perfect place to reinfiltrate into the district. There was a plan, one he pledged to work with as long as he was able. After a few weeks, it was believable. He had a cause.

Errol Woolf had been dead. And then, just like that, he wasn't.

The district celebrated the return of their trainer, his mother (a former Stylist) his sister (a Victor of an early game) none the wiser. He'd told them to make it look real, and they had. He recovered and he planned.

It would be a foothold in, if he did his job right, and Errol didn't intend to fail. Swynem would be the people's once more, and soon. All they needed was a bit more time.

This absolutely reminds me of the time I had a fever dream that combined the Niflheim arc from FFXV with the post Shido sprint scene to create this ENTIRE NEW ARC where the team had to REINFILTRATE Shido’s palace, which had somehow morphed into a military like holding facility in order to get Ryuji back who was, in the meantime, being tortured for information on the Phantom Thieves.

It was very dramatic. Lots of red herring coginitive Ryujis running around to trick the PT. Shido’s voice over the intercom like, “He really has been holding out for a long time... I wonder how much longer he’s got.” Joker was inconsolable, reckless and desperate. He knows they’re being led into a trap but doesn’t care cause he has to save Ryuji.

When they find him again, everyone cries. They free him from the shackles chaining him to the wall and he collapses into Joker’s arms, featuring the iconic lines of “Hey... were you worried about me...?” met with an emphatic and choked up, “Of course I was. What kind of question is that?!”

Also “I’m gonna make this world a better place... You with me?”

“Ha, what kind of question is that, man? You know where I belong.. ever at your side.”

ROCKING WITH THE SPIRIT OF FEAR Before I was born, my family was argued into abandoning something they loved – on nothing but the strength of unsubstantiated anecdotes. One of the tales they were told went something like this: "A young missionary family arrives in an unnamed African country. Their teenage son brings along some of his rock'n'roll records, and one day, decides to play a few while sitting outside the family hut. Before long, a native boy comes running from the jungle, wildly waving his arms. "Those are the rhythms we use to call up evil spirits!" he shouts at the missionary son. He quickly shuts off the music, then both boys gather up the rock records and toss them in a fire – thus saving their souls from Satan. At the last moment, the melting vinyl screams aloud in the flames, as the evil inside it escapes." That far-fetched and vaguely racist story – and others like it – were widely spread through religious circles in the 1980s. As the stylings of secular rock'n'roll (which itself was heavily influenced by gospel) began to reinfiltrate modern congregations as "Contempary Christian Music", there was a concerted pushback against perceived erosions of morality. My parents, who by this point already wouldn't dare consume non-Christian entertainment, were cajoled yet one step further to only the blandest pop tunes. Anything heavily rhythmic was considered dangerous to your soul, and drums were of the Devil. From then on out, only nursery songs and worship music were allowed through our ears – the sounds of someone softly singing directly to, for, or about God. This is the background I was born to. For the first 12 years of my life, I can't recall ever hearing a full song from my parents childhood, or a modern hit from the 80s and 90s. We didn't turn on the radio, even on the longest road trips, listening strictly to audio cassettes containing the correct kind of programming. Only on the rarest occasions did I overhear anything secular, in brief snippets from the soundtrack of a movie, or through reverberating loudspeakers at the local skating rink. That particular music was put to a stop by my great-uncle, Pastor Jake Turksma, who leveraged his influence to bring silence back to the Bridgetown Arena. Anything I heard in those years was mostly mixed with white noise in the background, like muddled conversation in a language I never learned. Popular music seemed meaningless from that perspective, and the lyrics entirely went over my heart. What I did make out felt often threatening – even mild references to sex or rebellion seemed enticing and off-putting at once. Then one late summer day in the mid-90s, at the Ciderfest parade in Bridgetown, I watched a middle-aged man play the folk song "Farewell to Nova Scotia". He did something I'd never encountered in music, telling a story for its own sake, no religious bent about it. I captured it on our camcorder, and went back to watch it again and again. Things started to shift in the summer of 1999, one late night when I couldn't sleep. All through my childhood, I shared a bedroom with my older brother David, but he was gone for six weeks to an Army Cadet camp. Tired of lying awake, I finally turned on the clock radio beside my bed. Up to that point, it'd only been used for alarms and audio cassettes, never once received a signal from the outside world. After pushing the dial through AM and FM, I eventually settled on a static-filled transmission of Radio Disney in from New York. It seemed less threatening than the classic rock stations, a middle ground that pulled me in like quicksand. They played songs I couldn't believe existed, infinitely more heartfelt than any I'd heard before. Instantly catchy, with surprising rhythms and lyrical wordplay, performed with more passion than a thousand church services put together. I knew I had to keep the secret, that I'd face admonishment if I let my listening habits out. So I'd turn the music whisper-quiet, almost all the way off, ear to the speaker because I had no headphones. All that summer, until my brother came back from camp, I woke like clockwork at 1 AM each morning. These were the only times the static softened enough to hear clearly, buzzing out to nothing in the day. I'd listen nightly to the hit parades, often staying awake till the first blue light of dawn. Those secretive hours only lasted a matter of weeks, but I kept them close in the coming years, always hoping for a way to get back. In retrospect, these tunes were mostly derivative, mass-produced creations from late-90s producers. But I was raw and they revolutionized my mindset, gave me something new to love, and completely changed the direction of my life. It wasn't long before I heard of something new called Napster, a program where you could freely (illegally, I'd later discover) download any song by any artist off the internet. This shaped my life in the early 2000s, and all my teenage years by extension, into a music-filled world of constant discovery. It was more than a novelty for me, not just a way for passing time. It felt like catching up, filling my ears and heart with an almost endless magic that both understood and reshaped me. Music made me want to wake up and be alive, and the lyrics had me hoping to finally speak for myself. Why I'm a writer started on those secret nights, breaking the rules and shaking the spirit of fear. It's hard to leave the philosophy of "better saved than sorry", a manipulative belief that's always suggesting sins. When you're deep down in it, even the passing mention that you shouldn't love what you love plants a seed you can't quite shake. Slowly, your passions turn to guilty pleasures, and finally, just guilt. Once guilt is all that's left, letting go feels like such a relief that you don't miss the absence – even start believing that it did you no good in the first place. I feel sad for our former selves, thinking how our fears were twisted around the finger of nothing at all. Taught to hear something so full of joy and passion, inciting a desire to dance and cry and laugh out loud – and only see the threat inside it. The danger was never drums or demons in the jungle, but something hiding in our willingness to surrender so easy. Rolling up our hearts in imaginary sins, rocking with the spirit of fear. No one in my family shares such extreme beliefs about music anymore. They listen to what they like, and let no one tell them otherwise. Seems absurd that we thought this way once, pushed to the fridges of fundamentalist doctrine. Most families with a history like ours are often embarrassed to admit it, and when I told my mother what I was writing, she worried that it might make us look gullible or foolish. When you change your mindset, or break loose of someone else's, it can be a safe place pretending you never thought that way in the first place. But tracking your progress back, with no blame or bitterness for anyone – even yourself – is the best way to be sure you're honest with your heart. Learning to trust people who know better, rather than folks who always think the worst. I'll never be talked into giving up on love again. Hold fast. ~ ~ ~ Photo of me by my sister, Janet Beck – 2001

Callout Post for Mod Hush of ask-an-avatar-callouts

I was recently made aware or @ask-an-avatar-callouts, as well as strange behavior from much of the mod team here. I’ve done some digging and learned of a massive conspiracy between several current and former mods to take this whole blog down. Details are below the cut.

CW: death, private messages, doxing, mass rituals

TL;DR: Mod Knife, Mod Skin, and Mod Abyss have reinfiltrated the blog & run another in order to start infighting & start a mass ritual.

My investigation was initially motivated by this post:

I Knew immediately that the person mod Hairdryer was talking about was mod Bone. He’d been acting strangely for the past few days. He’d been entirely absent the day prior, and when he returned, he took sides in the moderator conflict. Consider this behavior in the discussion I was having with mod Chasm:

With this, from the first day of the blog’s existence:

This isn’t the mod Bone I’ve come to know over the past week.

However, when I tried to Look into it, something was obscuring my vision. I was almost willing to reach out to mod Bone directly when I received an ask informing me of @ask-an-avatar-callouts​. I immediately Looked into it and discovered that the moderator of the blog is the former mod Knife. I also simultaneously learned that mod Knife has returned to the blog under the name mod Sword, named Tabby Cole:

Of course, I needed to Know who else was involved, so I first Looked at anyone who’d sent asks to the blog. One “headache anon” send multiple asks claiming to be the former mod Migraine’s twin, which I’ve confirmed. Another as that caught my attention was this:

The person who sent this ask was the former mod Abyss, who currently goes by mod Chasm, named Abigail Marianas Walsh:

Seeing so many returned mods, I looked through our new mods and realized that mod Bone 2 was actually the former Mod Skull, named Mai Atcher:

Also while Looking at Abigail, I discovered DMs between them and the former mod Skin, who goes by Burlesque in real life:

(Screenshots taken from Burlesque’s phone.)

Of course, I had to keep digging, and I found these DMs between Burlesque and Tabby:

(Screenshots taken from Tabby’s phone.)

This led me to take a closer Look at mod Bone, and as I expected, it wasn’t mod Bone. I was having so much trouble Looking yesterday because Burlesque had killed mod Bone, who’s named William Thomson, two days ago and taken his skin.

At this point I was wondering why? Why would these three cause so much pointless strife? But I took one more Look through the blog, and I found these posts by Tabby:

Tabby was planning on using this blog as a focal point for a mass Slaughter ritual. Burlesque worked with her to protect itself, and Abigail joined the plan to spite me.

The ritual won’t work, of course; William is already dead and can’t be killed in the Slaughter, and we don’t have a spiral or extinction avatar on the blog anymore. Should any one not involved in the plot kill another mod and kickstart the ritual, it will inevitably fail.

However, I have a confession to make.

While Looking for evidence for this post, my Sight obliterated both Burlesque and Abigail. As I’m not one of the people who set up this ritual (and am actually a strong target for it), my killing of both those mods have... set something off, something I’m sure the remaining mods can also currently feel.

I’m so, so sorry for what comes next.

-Mod Camera

Lordamere Rangers : the PCU connection?

Upon further investigation of Lordamere Rangers our analysts have uncovered that a high-ranking PCU drone Fearless aka Shavka was inside Lordamere Rangers 9 months ago (see screenshot https://i.ibb.co/TW47tSN/image.png, note “Updated 9 months ago”, the drone is in another guild now and it is unknown how long has it been inside Lordamere Rangers), which may confirm a link between Lordamere Rangers and PCU. However, Fearless/Shavka might have aswell been spying on them, the attempt to hide alts may confirm this version instead. We will continue monitoring activity of Fearless/Shavka/Sigdur/Brodyaga with high priority. Today our agents also spotted Journeyer from Lordamere Rangers in Stormwind, he was accompanied by two PCU drones - Shavka (aka Fearless/Brodyaga/Sigdur) and Beguilement (aka Begrudging/Veranorn/Cuklake from Blood of Martyrs), both attempted to hide their alts (our technology allows us to see everything). It’s possible they are rotating spies, trying to reinfiltrate Lordamere Rangers with another drone (maybe first one got exposed or is needed elsewhere now). In the past (2020-2021) we have also received numerous reports of Lordamere Rangers actively participating in PCU events. However, we also checked other members of Lordamere Rangers and haven’t found anything else linking to PCU. That makes the evidence above not 100% conclusive and open to speculation. As of now we give likelyhood of Lordamere Rangers collaborating with PCU to be 44%, and 56% of PCU spying on them. We advice caution until situation is resolved.

https://wordsthatrhymewith.com/reinfiltrate/

Words that rhyme with reinfiltrate | Words rhyming with reinfiltrate

The Wild Storm #11

Warren Ellis (A/CA) Jon Davis-Hunt RATED T+ In Shops: Jan 24, 2018 SRP: $3.99

The Wild CAT must reinfiltrate the Hightower site in order to prevent their own exposure-and also the roll out of a new global surveillance tool that will cement I.O.’s dominance over the planet. But if you’re a bunch of aliens and an ex-spook who faked his own death, you can probably be forgiven for thinking about your own weird skin first. Jackie King and the I.O. analysis team could take a leaf out of their book, because they’re about to undertake a cyber-attack on Skywatch, the managers of outer space, that could easily get them killed…

The Wild Storm #11 preview. The Wild CAT must reinfiltrate the Hightower site in order to prevent their own exposure #comics The Wild Storm #11 Warren Ellis (A/CA) Jon Davis-Hunt RATED T+ In Shops: Jan 24, 2018…