The Atavitae are an open species based in a solarpunk world.

Calamity struck humanity in one of its most literal of forms when a vicious solar flare smashed an odd meteor-like object the likes of which have never been observed into the planet. The object, dubbed "R4GNA-R0K" by scientists, was speculated to be extraterrestrial in origin and taken elsewhere for study, but its true fate remained unknown.
On the other end of the spectrum, the fate of the known world remained in flux for several years. Natural disasters became all the more prominent before escalating a global crisis altogether. Architects created a multitude of arks intended to preserve high society at the cost of everyone and everything else, and during the final wave of the apocalypse, several billion people perished, along with most of the animal kingdom.
Those days were the days of Old Earth. Mankind has since evolved into something greater in both body and spirit, but the new world of Neo Earth is far from at ease. Mild quakes and other disturbances are activating again, and while it's nothing humanity can't handle in its current state, people have begun to worry.
Will the new generations learn from the past? Where did the object from which the disasters originated go? Is there a way to stop a repeat of the apocalypse? Only you can say for sure and change the course of evolution.
​

• SCIENTIFIC NAME: Homo chimaeras (chimera man)
• COMMON NAME: Atavitae, Ark, Chimera, Splice, Grafter, Mutant
• CONCEPTUAL: The Atavitae are a brand of near-future humans. After a worldwide series of natural disasters left most of the world's creatures all but extinct, humanity spliced the animal kingdom into a number of living arks. Each ark is a person, and each person contains the genomes of different animals in their tails.
• ORIGINATION: The Atavitae were inspired by various media, including (but not limited to) 2012, Avatar, Brand New Animal, and Zootopia. By bringing therianthropes into a semi-futuristic world bordering utopia, it's meant to be a new take on an old classic.
• AVAILABILITY: Atavitae can be created and written by anyone, which makes them a free-to-play open species! That said, we do have a few house rules when it comes to character creation...
• INQUIREMENT: Atavitae questions can be sent to CrystalDisc.

​
The Atavitae is an interactive multimedia science-fantasy project where everyone has a beast beneath their skin and forces beyond humanity's control fight to wipe what remains.
Written by advanced-literate writers for the same, we expect everybody to already know the in's and out's of good roleplay and discourage the use of tasteless language, violence, and sexuality.
Anyone who applies must be 18+ for the comfort of all players but sexual content is not allowed. We play on both The RP Repository and Discord.
Are you ready? Get involved today!
🔗 https://www.rprepository.com/g/atavitae

I am still learning the ins and outs of classes and I think I am finally starting to understand them. I created the following code to represent a simple lottery system.
Since I am self studying, I am looking for feedback on if I am using any flawed logic, or if there are any things I should be considering when using classes that I may be misunderstanding.

#Currently, code does not check for an instance of a lottery with the same #draw_date. Work on having ticket instances match against lottery instances with #same draw date. Use dictionary for key to equal draw_date or create a class #attribute Draw-Date to store the winning list for comparison across classes? from random import randint class Lottery: """Official list of 20 possible picks for a Lottery.""" def __init__( self, draw_date, official_picks=[], winning_list=[], ): self.draw_date = draw_date self.official_picks = official_picks self.winning_list = winning_list def get_picks(self): self.official_picks=[ '20','3','8','u','f','16','45','e', 'x','43','72','34','5','34', ] get_four = 0 full_list = 14 self.winning_list = [] while get_four < 4: get_four += 1 random = randint(1,full_list) full_list -= 1 random -= 1 #Account for off-by-one index pick = self.official_picks.pop(random) self.winning_list.append(pick) return self.winning_list def announce_picks(self): active = True while active: if self.winning_list == []: self.get_picks() else: print( 'Here are the winning picks for ' f'{self.draw_date}. Anyone with a ticket ' 'matching these exact four letters and/or ' 'numbers will win a prize: ' f'\n{self.winning_list}.' ) active = False class Tickets(Lottery): """Subclass to create tickets based on any one instance of a lottery.""" def __init__( self, draw_date, official_picks=[], winning_list=[], ): super().__init__(draw_date,official_picks,winning_list) self.bought_list = [] def win_analysis(self): active = True win = self.get_picks() print( f"These are the winning picks for {self.draw_date}: " f"{win}" ) purchased = 1 while active: self.bought_list = self.get_picks() print( f'Here is a ticket you bought for {self.draw_date}: ' f'{self.bought_list}' ) if sorted(self.bought_list) == sorted(win): print( f'Congratulations, you won after buying ' f'{purchased} tickets.' ) active = False else: purchased += 1 my_ticket = Tickets('03202023') my_ticket.win_analysis() 

Spring break was nice. Gave me the right state of mind to write this chapter, and the next ones coming up within the week. **note that I don't know enough about bug biology so if you have any articles about bug behavior and anatomy that'd be great
DREAMS
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First
Previous
-----
I was not entirely sure what happened. All I know is that he walked off to go do his business and he… vanished. Just like that. Almost in an instant. He could not have simply wandered off, he had simply vanished off the face of the earth. I had heard every theory given by the authorities, and none made sense. How could someone walk a few meters behind you and disappear completely?
I paced back and forth in the bedroom of her new house, going over every detail of the situation. It was late at night and we were stargazing. All was extremely quiet. There were no rustles in the bushes or anything during the time that he had vanished, and there were certainly no cries of pain or exclamations of surprise that would indicate he was attacked. I had lost track of him for approximately 12 seconds before he had vanished. When he vanished, I thoroughly searched the surrounding area for any signs of life. Footprints, dens, nests, fluids, and whatever else, I analyzed. I found no evidence that there was anything else in the clearing we were present in except us. This meant that whatever could have possibly taken him did it extremely stealthily.
But why? I sat down on the bed with my hands on my head, pondering the question in grief. Why him? Why the sweet and lovely man that I had known for so long? If he was taken, why must they have chosen the love of my life?
I was filled with both rage and grief. I wanted to punch the wall as I wept, to let my emotions take hold and thrash about wildly in an uncontrollable meltdown, but instead I opted to sit on the ground and cry to myself. No amount of wild tantrums would relieve her of the pain, and I knew that. I permitted my dog to sit next to me and rest his head on my shoulder. I found it comforting.
Once I was done with my weeping, I immediately went back to theorizing. It was surreal, really. The last few days had been a repeat of this situation over and over. I had not been able to make sense of it. It made no sense. It was impossible. Well, according to normal logic it was. Was there anything else I had not considered?
I had done significant research into missing persons cases in similar circumstances as these. People disappearing when they should not have, people vanishing the moment they leave someone else’s sight, and those experienced with nature seemingly going insane and traveling to places they should not have. It was all eerily similar to what she had experienced. They had named these kinds of cases the “Missing 411” cases. Perhaps they would have to add in his case then.
Later that day, after I had done additional research into the situation, I decided that rest would be beneficial for me after I had gone 2 days without sleep. Luckily, it seemed my mind was too tired to protest, and I went to sleep without any sorts of issues.
In my dreams, I imagined myself in a grey void that seemed to stretch in all directions for infinity. I did not mind it, though. I wished to remain alone in that moment. I sat down on the cold, yet soft floor of the void, and simply stared off into the distance.
I imagined seeing him again. Seeing Timothy’s form approaching me and embracing me. Telling me it was going to be okay, that I did not have to worry anymore. I knew it was imaginary, but I refused to admit that. I hugged him and kissed him like he had never left me, like he had never been taken from me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried on his shoulder for what felt like an eternity. I wanted him back, my sweet, sweet husband that I had known since high school, I needed him back. He was the only person I could trust, the only one who had confided in me his true feelings, the only one who told me the truth, the only one who really cared.
In that moment, he had disappeared from the void, leaving me alone once again. I was about to let out a wail of grief until I noticed a figure in the distance. It seemed to be a rapidly approaching darkness that grow a little more clear the closer it came. It was almost like I was viewing it through the glass of a shower door.
However, despite its obvious creepiness, I could not bring myself to fear it. Instead, I felt comfort. I did not know why. I knew I should have been afraid, but in that moment, I could not help but draw myself closer. As I approached, the figure of whatever this was became more apparent. It seemed humanoid. It had a pair of legs, a pair of arms, and a head. Every part of its body seemed to be as black as the night, and a cloud of this darkness seemed to follow it as it approached.
As I walked closer, I came across a barrier that seemed to be the source of the blur. I leaned closer, staring at the figure as it come to a stop right in front of the glass. I felt a certain familiarity regarding this figure. Could it be…?
The figure put its hand to the glass, and a pair of white lights shined where its eyes would be.
“Leah?” It asked.
It was him.
I was so shocked she could barely gather the strength to move my own hand up to the barrier, resting my palm across from his hand. As tears fell down my cheeks, I croaked out my own reply.
“Timothy?”
The figure nodded, and soon after, he disappeared from the void, returning to whenever he came from.
I cried once again. Not out of grief, but of joy. Of course, he was still missing, but he was alive. He was still out there somewhere. There was still a chance I could be with him once again.
There were still yet many questions in my mind. Why was there a barrier between me and my love? Where was he? How could I get to him? Was he safe? Could he perish at any moment?
These questions overtook my mind for the entire time I dreamt. I questioned not his appearance or the creepiness associated with it. The only thing on my mind in that moment was my husband, and how I could reunite with him.
The description of the events surrounding this time may be… inconsistent. It was very soon after Timothy had gone missing, and I was very hysterical during this time. However, as far as I can tell, this is what had happened. Following this dream, I remember my awakening as being fully rested and clear of mind. The hysteria had vanished from my mind, and I had given myself one purpose. That is, to figure out where my husband had disappeared to and to reunite with him as soon as possible. Now, my search would have been fruitless had the news that would blast over the entire planet a few weeks later not unveiled itself, as my husband was nowhere where I thought he was. He was, in fact, beyond that.
He had not fully comprehended his situation until after he had woken up in that hole in the side of an alien spacecraft. He probably would have had an emotional breakdown, but something was preventing him from falling into despair. An unusual calmness that held him together in such a difficult time. He elected not to question it and to instead thank it. Now was not the time to panic.
He looked around the hole in the ship, analyzing the changes that had taken place since he was fully conscious. The hole had grown substantially larger, and the cover that he had placed behind him to ensure he was hidden had been… corroded? It was as if some large beast had taken a big bite out of it. Why had that happened?
He decided to intensify his focus on the environment around him, looking for any clues as to how this could have happened. Suddenly, he found the reason. The same… things… he was made of were floating about, consuming bit-by-bit pieces of the ship and (he assumed) using that to multiply or feed themselves or whatever.
He did not like that they were doing that. He really did not need that right now. How could he stopped them from doing that? He attempted to lift his hand to his chin to think for a moment, before realizing that he had lost his humanoid form. He cursed in his head and manipulated his body to the optimal form.
Maybe he could use the same method for those runaway… things? He still did not know what to call them, but he knew that they were tiny swarms originating from a much larger swarm, that being himself. He would just call them swarmites. He focused his will on ensuring the swarmites he saw would return to the main swarm, individually guiding each swarmite back into his care. It worked very well, with all of the littles swarmites returned to their progenitor. Now that that had been taken care of, he needed to ensure that they did not do that when he was busy “sleeping” or focused on other tasks.
He thought for a moment before manipulating his form once again. A thin membrane formed around his body, keeping the swarm in a consistent form outside his will and allowing him to interact with physical world far easier than before. Perfect!
Now that he had finished his task, he looked out to the vast expanse of space. He could not see any ships, which meant they had probably not stumbled across the sight of himself in the hole… probably. In any case, he knew he needed to move now that the hole was exposed, as they would definitely send someone to investigate once they located it. Whoever runs this ship will probably get chewed out for it.
In that moment he remembered those he was fleeing from. The bug people. He barely remembered their shape, as he was too busy escaping their clutches. All he knew is that they had kidnapped him from earth and had fed him to something, and now he was a sentient swarm made of something unknown to even himself. Whatever the case, they seemed to be afraid of him, given the massive amount of munitions they had fired at him once he began to significantly resist. He could not blame them entirely.
He began to float outside the ship and look around. All the ships he had seen earlier were still present, and in much the same positions as before. Hopefully they would not spot him.
He chose the least threatening ship he could and began floating toward it, taking note not to speed toward it lest he make himself more noticeable. The greater the velocity, the greater the energy, after all. Plus, he would rather not crash full speed into a giant spaceship if he failed to slow himself down.
What he did not know in that moment was that he had not taken every part of himself with him. Many swarmites remained behind, and now that their master had left, had taken to drifting through the ship, looking for any openings that would allow access to the habitable parts of the ship, where many bugs walked.
One of these bugs was in the cleaning chambers, using water to wash themselves of any potential germs or gross secretions. It was enjoying itself until a large collection of strange black gas began falling down from a vent above the bug.
“What in…?” the bug did not finish its response as it was forced to cough from the smoke-like gas invading its lungs. After a violent and intense coughing session, the bug regained its faculties.
“Preposterous! I cannot believe the engineers are allowing smoke into the ventilation systems! I am going to strangle them! They have wronged me too many…” the bug said before a stray thought entered its mind. It suddenly found its original mission far less important than traveling to its resting quarters and cuddling with its mate.
“Hm… he is likely feeling quite alone at this moment. I should pay him a visit, I am certain he will enjoy a surprise,” the female bug said. She immediately set her sights on the exit of the bathing quarters and began walking toward the resting quarters, ignoring the fact that she was still wet and had not brought her belongings.

Hi everyone,
I am 9 months into my incubation/accelerator programme and I am struggling. I was accepted into this program off of an idea that would see me solving the problems that new rules and regulations are creating in the world of rugby. World Rugby, the governing body of rugby, is stipulating more and more rules that limit the amount of training that players can do a week. I have been working on a solution for the past few months but I am struggling with a few key areas.
My solution is based upon the use of Virtual Reality to simulate a pitch whereby the coach/manager can coach and train the player, either remotely or in person, in a simulated environment during a specific play e.g. during a scrum, lineout, kick off etc.
My first problem is estimating the market size for rugby is difficult. It’s near impossible to find good hard data about how rugby teams are spending their money around the world. The second problem I am facing is validating and verifying this problem at scale. I have interviewed a number of coaches and they have given me some good feedback, but I haven’t been able to widely verify that this problem is painful, and most importantly, worth paying for. Finally, another problem I am running into is that I believe my solution can improve game knowledge and awareness, skills execution and I believe it can reduce training injury risk, how can I convince managers and coaches that this performance boost is worth paying for?
Does anybody have any experience in the sports technology sector? How have you guys found it? I am struggling here in Europe in terms of market reach and discovery.
Any help/suggestions and comments would be welcomed! I am also interested in hearing what would ye do if you were in my situation?
Here are some companies working in this space already: INCISIV - https://www.incisiv.tech/ REZZIL - https://rezzil.com

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐩: Previously on 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐝; Wave and Basko were ambushed by a group of Orca mercenaries who were unknowingly working as Emperor Kraken's pawns. Then Wave's magic pendant gave him immense power to fight off the brutish pod but all the power put intense strain on Wave's body causing him to pass out, luckily his father Basko was there to catch him before he could sink to the murky depths of the ocean. Now Basko and the recuperating Merboy Wave head towards their plausible final destination.
​
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: "Ngh, ugh my head. Wh-where are we?" Wave's eyes slowly opened as he regains his movement. "Right above Deadman's Trench. They say fish who go in there die." informed Basko. Wave took deep breaths as he gazed down into the dark abyss. "I don't see a bottom, there's no way we can navigate the trench as dark as it is." Then out of nowhere an unfamiliar voice shouted at them. "Howdy fellers!" Both Wave and Basko jumped as they looked down on a small little Anglerfish. "Who are you?" Basko asked. "Just a little ole' Anglerfish passing through." Wave then saw the bulb sticking out of his head and got an idea. "Hey old-timer mind lighting up our way down this here trench?" said Wave failing to mimic the Anglerfish's accent. "No can do young fish boy, that there is Deadman's trench and even I know of its perilous predicaments." Wave swam in front of him to block him from leaving. "Wait what if I told you there was gold down there?" The Anglerfish's eyes lit up. GOLD!? You didn't tell me there was gold to be found down there in those parts. What're you waiting for? Come on! "Wave how did you know that would work?" asked Basko confusingly. "I don't know I just had a feeling." The two of them dive down after the Anglerfish who is now lighting up the way for our subaquatic heroes. "Whoowee! My fins are tired." The Anglerfish looks around at the lack of gold. "Hey there ain't no gold down here! This was a wild goose chase!" Wave comes down to calm him. "True but I had to lie, you see me & my dad are on a quest to save the ocean." The Anglerfish bursts out laughing. "HaHAHeHEHaHAHeHEHeHOo! Good one young feller! A shark and an ugly half-fish creature is going to save the world, yeah right." *click* *click* *click* *click* *click\* "Uh guys what's that sound?" The three of them turn around to see giant glowing eyes and a humongous beak. Basko yells "Swim!" They all swim as fast as they can away from the huge creature. "Watch out for the thermal vents! If you get hit you're fried!" warned Basko. Dodging the blasts from the vents the huge creature continues his pursuit of the trio. "I know we fella's should split up to draw attention from the big behemoth!" quickly advised the Anglerfish. "Good idea, split up!" shouted Basko. The three all took separate tunnels but the creature followed Wave seemingly targeting him and him alone. *Huh, huh, huh, huh...* Wave gasps fearing the creature in pursuit of him. "Ah an opening!" Wave swam through the small hole in the tunnel ceiling attempted to get back near the surface. "Where's Wave?" Basko asked worriedly." The Anglerfish replied. "Last I checked he took the left tunnel." Wave zooms towards the others but gets caught by a giant tentacle. "Father help!!" Basko and the Angler fish look down. "Son! I'm coming!" The tentacle pulls Wave back down into the depths of Deadman's Trench. "Daaaad!" They watch as Wave disappears into the darkness as his voice slowly goes silent. "I have to go back and save him." Basko told the Anglerfish. "Even if I can't see I'll sniff him out." The Anglerfish looked at Basko comfortingly and smiled. "You won't need to when you got a light."
​
Wave is no more.... or is he? What humongous beast attacked our heroes and why did it only target Wave? I guess we'll have to find out next ti- *breathing heavily* "Where am I? What is this place? Who are you?" The huge tentacled beast turns around. "Enough of the questions, Wave. Yes I know your name as well as lot of other things but before I tell you further you need to make a choice." Wave looks at him angrily. "Either die here and let the entire Ocean suffer or join me and help make the ocean better. Your choice."
This epic story comes to a close tomorrow in the 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐝: 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞.
It's all or nothing for the young teenage merboy, he'll have to make an impossible decision and and the ultimate sacrifice. DON'T miss it or your ship might sink.

I found this community over the weekend and have been accepting that I am addicted to porn. I've had PIED for years now, but since I've started gaining weight it has gotten progressively worse.
My kink is cheating/infidelity stuff, stemming from a toxic past relationship where I was cheated on. It was a traumatic experience that really lowered my self-esteem, and it was sometime after that that I really started getting into porn.
Lately in order to make it to orgasm during sex, I've needed to focus hard throughout, and think of my porn fetishes. Very messed up, not to mention it sucks the enjoyment right out, and several times I've decided I'd rather masturbate than have sex and have to deal with it.
So, for myself and my partner, I need to stop. I deleted all my NSFW accounts etc, but when it came to deleting my personal porn stash... I didn't realize I was so emotionally attached to it. I know that all it means is I really am addicted, but it's so hard to bring myself to delete my favorite scenes. I deleted ~90% of it (>2TB), but getting rid of my all-time favorites... I don't know if I can handle that right now. Despite knowing I need to, and despite thinking about how many hours I wasted scouring the internet for my "perfect" content.
I'm also concerned about how I'm going to manage my triggers. I've always tied my hobbies to my horniness. I got into programming by making erotic text based games. I got into drawing by wanting to make sexy anime characters (I even thought I was going to make an H game). I started learning Japanese 2 years ago partly so that I could play Japanese erotic games. I never had a problem with it, because I thought I should "just accept myself", but now I've realized there is a problem.
These are important parts of my life that I enjoy and will continue, but I need to figure out how to do that without sabotaging myself. Does anyone have any suggestions?
If you've read, thank you. I really wanted to get these feelings off my chest. Today is day 0 for me. I know it's going to be a long hard road, but knowing is half the battle.

CW: weight mention
Hi guys! I’m new to Reddit and came on here to see if anyone can offer me some insight on getting diagnosed w/ endo. For background: I’m 23 years old and have had painful periods for as long as I can remember. When I was 17 I started taking the Vienva BC pill and had semi normal cycles. My cycles stopped completely on the Mirena IUD, which I got at 19 and had til I was 21. It took nearly 6 months to get my period back, and shortly after that I ended up in the ER w/ severe pelvic pain. I was diagnosed w/ PID and multiple endometriomas after several hours of doctors telling me I was fine, even with an absurdly high WBC. My periods now occur for 1-3 days each month, but are not “regular” per say. I experience severe pelvic pain and bloating/trapped gas each month even when I’m not menstruating. The GI issues have disrupted all aspects of my life greatly, to the point where I can’t eat regularly and have to use laxatives daily to have a bowel movement. I do have pain with intercourse as well. I have also had a lot of hormonal acne, hot flashes/sweating/body odor, and headaches. When I had the IUD, I gained a significant amount of weight in a short period of time (all of which I have since lost) however my prior OBGYN tried to tell me that these issues would go away with weight loss- clearly they haven’t. I am nearing the point of being underweight due to the GI issues. My mental state has also worsened as I have not been able to find any validation of these issues, as they are being brushed off as “normal”. - based on my symptoms, I believe it’s stage II-III endo and involves my bowel. I am also worried for my future fertility if no action is taken. My most recent pelvic ultrasound made the technicians jaw drop because of how large the cyst on my right ovary was. My next GYN appt is in mid-May, but I’m not sure if it needs to be moved up or if these symptoms warrant a diagnostic surgery as I am new to all this. Please help! Thanks!

The biggest problems that modern pilots must face in air to air combat are the ability to resist high G-forces, maintain visual contact on a target during BFM maneuvers, and the ability to rapidly process large amounts of information. For all 3 of these tasks, femboys are second to none. First and most obviously, G-forces. Femboys generally have a shorter stature to their more masculine brothers, this is known to help with G tolerance as it creates less space for blood to go and thus takes more force for the blood to leave your brain. Additionally, the glorious thigh highs squeeze the legs much in the way that a modern G-suit would, combining with the strength of those amazingly thicc thighs to help force blood back up into the rest of the body. Furthermore, due to their being male, femboys find it easier to put on and maintain the muscle mass necessary for those gloriously thicc thighs, especially in times of war where excess time and energy to workout may be compromised. Second, visual contact is perhaps one of the most difficult parts of BFM engagements. Even with the aide of modern systems, the ability to pick out the black dot in the sun could mean life or death to a pilot. Here, the black makeup typical of more gothic femboys plays a critical role in assisting femboys in their ability to remain alert and effective on the battlefield where threats can appear from any angle at any time. Third, the newest addition to air combat, data management. As airframes and avionics become more and more sophisticated, the ability to process large amounts of computer generated information and make effective decisions based on said information is critical for the success of any modern fighter pilot. It is well known that femboys have a habit of being very knowledgeable in the realm of computer science, making them particularly well suited for any role which involves digesting large amounts of computer based information and using it to their benefit. Of course, all of this could not be mentioned without bringing up the "morale" improvement caused by having such a warfighter on your side. I mean come on, he's so cute. You're already dreaming of being his wingman, don't lie to me.
In conclusion, femboys have a remarkably positive impact on any squadron's capabilities and should be heavily recruited for any airforces wishing to remain competitive on the modern battlefield.
Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

CW: weight mention
Hi guys! I’m new to Reddit and came on here to see if anyone can offer me some insight on getting diagnosed w/ endo. For background: I’m 23 years old and have had painful periods for as long as I can remember. When I was 17 I started taking the Vienva BC pill and had semi normal cycles. My cycles stopped completely on the Mirena IUD, which I got at 19 and had til I was 21. It took nearly 6 months to get my period back, and shortly after that I ended up in the ER w/ severe pelvic pain. I was diagnosed w/ PID and multiple endometriomas after several hours of doctors telling me I was fine, even with an absurdly high WBC. My periods now occur for 1-3 days each month, but are not “regular” per say. I experience severe pelvic pain and bloating/trapped gas each month even when I’m not menstruating. The GI issues have disrupted all aspects of my life greatly, to the point where I can’t eat regularly and have to use laxatives daily to have a bowel movement. I do have pain with intercourse as well. I have also had a lot of hormonal acne, hot flashes/sweating/body odor, and headaches. When I had the IUD, I gained a significant amount of weight in a short period of time (all of which I have since lost) however my prior OBGYN tried to tell me that these issues would go away with weight loss- clearly they haven’t. I am nearing the point of being underweight due to the GI issues. My mental state has also worsened as I have not been able to find any validation of these issues, as they are being brushed off as “normal”, and my doctors keep shoving BC in my face as the only form of treatment- based on my symptoms, I believe it’s stage II-III endo and involves my bowel. I am also worried for my future fertility if no action is taken. My most recent pelvic ultrasound made the technicians jaw drop because of how large the cyst on my right ovary was. My next GYN appt is in mid-May, but I’m not sure if it needs to be moved up or if these symptoms warrant a diagnostic surgery as I am new to all this. Please help! Thanks!

Exclusive: Buster Murdaugh denies ‘vicious rumors’ tying him to cold case

Buster Murdaugh denied any involvement in the 2015 death of his high school classmate, Stephen Smith.
March 20, 2023, 6:40 AM CDT / Updated March 20, 2023, 12:44 PM CDT
Source: TODAY By Anna Kaplan and Catie Beck
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Buster Murdaugh made his first public statement on the death of his high school classmate Stephen Smith, telling NBC News in an exclusive statement he denies having any involvement in Smith's death in 2015.
“I have tried my best to ignore the vicious rumors about my involvement in Stephen Smith’s tragic death that continue to be published in the media as I grieve over the brutal murders of my mother and brother," Murdaugh said. "I love them so much and miss them terribly."
"I haven’t spoken up until now because I want to live in private while I cope with their deaths and my father’s incarceration," he continued.
Murdaugh's father, Alex Murdaugh, was convicted and sentenced to life in prison for murdering his wife Maggie Murdaugh and youngest son Paul Murdaugh, putting a spotlight on the powerful family in South Carolina's Lowcountry.
Murdaugh said he has been "targeted and harassed" by the media and followers of his family's story, both before and since his father's trial.
"This has gone on far too long. These baseless rumors of my involvement with Stephen and his death are false," he said. "I unequivocally deny any involvement in his death, and my heart goes out to the Smith family."
Murdaugh also asked for the media to "immediately stop publishing these defamatory comments and rumors."
Smith was found dead in July 2015 on a rural road about 15 miles from one of the Murdaugh family properties in Hampton County, South Carolina. An autopsy report determined he had been struck by a vehicle, NBC News reported.
Smith was found with a "defensive wound" on his hand, according to an investigator's report obtained by The Island Packet. No glass or debris from a vehicle was found near Smith's body or in the immediate area, The Island Packet reported.
Smith's mother, Sandy Smith, told TODAY she believes state investigators' findings may have been wrong, and that someone murdered her son and staged it to look like an accident.
"As a mother there’s questions that I need to ask and there’s questions I need answers to," she said.
Smith's case has received renewed attention, along with other deaths with ties to the Murdaugh family, following Alex Murdaugh's trial and a recent Netflix documentary, "Murdaugh Murders: A Southern Scandal."
Sandy Smith said she doesn't know who is responsible for her son's death, but that she will use money raised from a crowdfunding effort to exhume his body so an independent autopsy can be performed.
She said she hopes for peace, not closure in her son's death. "It’ll never be closed because he’s forever gone," she said.
Authorities reopened Smith's case after the deaths of Maggie and Paul Murdaugh "based upon information gathered during the course of the double murder investigation," S.C. Law Enforcement Division spokesperson Tommy Crosby said in a June 2021 statement.
SLED said in a statement on March 17 it had "made progress" in its investigation into Smith’s death and that it "remains active and ongoing."
No member of the Murdaugh family has been named as a suspect in Smith's case.

I'm doing an eagle at the top of my shin. The talons, body and head will be down the center and the wings will be symmetrical out both sides towards my calf muscle. I like the idea of the top of the eagle wings being straight across, not curved upward. But I'm wondering if curving them up slightly will make it look better as most often when it's viewed it will be viewed from head height, three or four feet higher, looked down upon. It feels to me like having the wings straight across and looking down on them will almost give them a downward curve look when viewed from above. I'm asking because artist has asked me to send him examples/pics of wing structure I want and I don't want to waste his drawing time. I've written to him with exactly this concern without a response. Overthinking?

Hi everyone. I’m 18 (soon turning 19), and I will be graduating highschool in May. (Let me preface this by saying I will not be engaging in sugaring while still in highschool even if I’m of legal age. Even if I’m 18, I think any man willing or eager to date a highschool student possesses or will exhibit problematic behavior in the future).
(Quick note, if you just want to see my questions with no context scroll to where I separated two paragraphs with “———-“)
Anyway, so I’ve been considering/ exploring the sugar dating world a little bit because I will need support for my college tuition as well as other related expenses (and maybe eventually other expenses like rent, groceries, things of that caliber).
My mother is newly divorced from my father, and she is a teacher assistant for the special education program at a middle school (so she doesn’t make much). My father is vile, and I have limited contact with him. I do not get any financial support from him, and my mother gets very, very little from him in comparison to his salary. (She makes abt 18K/ per year before taxes. He makes $400K+ before taxes).
I couldn’t apply for institutional financial aid at most of the colleges I’ve applied to because my father refused to provide copies of his 2021 W-2 forms and his 2021 federal tax returns (he had to submit them online, I would have had no access to them). So I will be in even more of a bind.
Currently, I’m not able to work a consistent job because of my heavy school workload (If I could work consistently without getting horrible grades, I absolutely would). This summer, I will be getting a full-time job in addition to the babysitting, dog walking, and doordashing that I already do. But these tuitions + room/board + materials are truly unbelievable. I know for a fact that even if I worked 3 full-time jobs in addition to being a full-time student, I would not be receiving anywhere what is necessary.
I also want to find a way to provide somewhat for my mom. I won’t go into detail, but she needs financial help desperately through no fault of her own.
So I’ve been exploring this world for a little bit, and I have some questions. Let’s start with names, identities, and profiles. I will create an alias and somewhat of an identity to match with said alias for sites. I will not provide my real information on sites (I’d only consider that if I’ve known SD for some time and feel comfortable enough). I have a list of names and am exploring surnames, but I don’t want it to be so complicated that they get bored or confused, but not generic enough so that they continue scrolling. Similarly, I’ll include some activities I enjoy in addition to being upfront about what I’m looking for, but as for a persona, I want to cultivate one that deviates somewhat from my real persona. I understand this can be a tricky business, and I want to draw lines between my personal life and my SB life.
I wouldn’t say I fit the conventional attractiveness standards, but I know I’m pretty enough, I know how to exude the innocent/ demure/ mentally/emotionally mature qualities just enough not to outweigh the alluring, curious qualities that appeal to SDs, and I know how to stroke a man’s ego. I grew up in an emotionally explosive and unstable household, so I’m very familiar with following a script in the most “genuine way.” (Looks aren’t above par, but these other qualities compensate for that).
————————————————————- For profiles and websites, it seems like sugardaddy, seekingarrangements, and secret benefits are the winners? (correct me if I’m wrong).
I don’t want to reveal my face if possible, but I don’t want my profile pics to just be of my body and convey that I’m very intimacy centered. It would be ideal to find SD who genuinely doesn’t want or need to pressure, and sexual intimacy isn’t a must factor or top priority. Ik that isn’t the case most times, though.
But my questions come down to: 1) which sites do you all find to be the best (most successful, most legit/least scammers, most “safe”)? 2) advice on aliases, identities, and profile photos that protect my security / real identity (how to catch and keep an SDs interest when they’re scrolling).
Bonus questions:
I’m considering making my accounts once I graduate so I can explore and play around with perfecting my profiles (and maybe gain practice w/ messaging and interacting with “POTs.” But my concern is I live in Arkansas (least hillbilly area; expanding rapidly and fairly affluent because this area is one of the world's largest conglomerates is headquartered here), and I worry about my classmates' fathers seeing my profile or something like that happening. What would you all recommend with that?
Sorry that was so long; I couldn’t help but over-explain and provide exact detail. Thank you to all who made it this far!!

•1•
Aniyah paused by a tree that was bigger than all the rest. It was obviously very old. The leaves of its branches were a pretty teal color and were shaped like the diamonds in a deck of playing cars. She couldn't say exactly why, but this tree gave her a slight sense of comfort. In these woods--especially with the black curtain hanging over the sky--comfort was a rare commodity. She found comfort in this tree, oddly enough, and also in her new weapon. Windchine; Blade of the Paragon. She supposed she was the Paragon of the Weaver now. Whatever that meant. She knew the words, because they kept echoing throughout her thoughts, but she had only a faint idea of their meaning. She wasn't totally clueless. She'd picked up on the fact that the Weaver was a God, or something close to it. She'd intuited that Paragon was some kind of title, bestowed by the Weaver. It meant she was sort of like a knight. Beyond these things however, she didn't have much to go on. She'd always just known things she had no way of knowing. Sometimes, she knew things she had no business knowing, as Momma would have said. She wasn't psychic. Far from it. She just got gut feelings about things, that usually turned out to be right. Like the ones underneath. She'd picked up on all of that, without any real reason to pick up on it.
She was picking up on something now. Something involving the others back at the clearing.
But she was still piecing all of that together. She didn't have enough to go on yet, to have any complete, fully formed thought.
That wouldn't come until a bit later...
What came in that moment, was the subtle soothing nature of the very old tree before her. Comfort really was a rare commodity here, but aside from the tree and the scimitar, there was one more source of comfort for her, currently. The weird little jellyfish thing. It was bobbing along in the air a few feet from the tree. It hadn't left her side since bringing her the weapon. Like the tree--like Windchime--it granted her a small degree of comfort. She didn't know where the jellyfish had got the weapon, but she had an idea that even the jellyfish didn't know where it had come from. Maybe the old man had something to do with it. The one who kept the Keys. The Custodian.
She bitterly wished she'd thought to grab Mr. Brownie when she took off running from the skinless man.
The skinless man...
Now there was something she hadn't got any gut feelings about. Except for fear, that was. She knew to be fearful of the man, but that was all. She'd dealt with monsters her whole life. They'd shown up out the blue, or she'd shown up to them. Like in that Long Room. Something about the skinless man was different though. Something about him wasn't like the other monsters. He wasn't one of her monsters, she knew that much at least. She could also tell he didn't have anything to do with the ones underneath, or the grasshopper people. He wasn't connected to The Jailer.
The only intuitive feeling Aniyah had concerning the skinless man, was that he was connected to something a whole lot worse. What that something might have a been however, she had no clue.
Aniyah didn't have a sheath, or swordbelt. The scimitar hadn't come with a scabbard. As a result, she was forced to hold the weapon in her hand, since she had nowhere to stow it. The blade was as long as her arm, and curved--almost like a banana--but was only sharp on one side. This allowed her to rest the blunt edge in the crook of her shoulder, carrying it the way she'd seen lumberjacks sometimes carry their axes in old movies; with her elbow bent, and the blade sticking out behind her as if it were a compass needle that only pointed in the opposite direction from where she was facing.
With Windchine in this position, she leaned sideways against the old tree--feeling its rough bark against her skin. A soft breeze gently blew against her face, bringing with it the scents of nature. The blackness of the sky didn't seem to match the pleasantness of the wind or the earthy smells of the woods around her. Nor did the stillness. There were a few insects buzzing someplace nearby, but mostly it was quiet. It was almost tranquil, in fact. She knew that somewhere in these same woods, chaos was happening. Hell on Earth (or, Hell on In-Between, she supposed). But all of that seemed so distant. So removed from her in that moment, in this private patch of wilderness.
Part of her wanted to go charging off toward the battle, so she could save Eddie the Gnome, and Prioress Qaya, and the others. Yet, at the same time, another part of her wanted to just lie down right here and take a nice long nap. Another part still--a deeper part--briefly broached the topic of Amy. She shattered this thought into a million little pieces and scattered them in the wind. She wouldn't... no... she couldn't deal with that right now. Not yet. Soon, she would have to. But not just yet.
These contradicting parts were really all the same part. The part that didn't want to admit she was hopelessly lost. She had no dang idea where to go.
Aniyah looked up at the weird little jellyfish thing. She whispered, "Wonder how far it is, to get back to Eddie Money and the others?"
The jellyfish couldn't understand her. Duh. It was a floating jellyfish. How could it?
Except... for a moment, Aniyah thought maybe the thing did understand. And after another few seconds, she knew for sure it did.
The jellyfish flashed a soft green color. Once, then twice. To Aniyah, it was almost like it was saying: "Beep-beep!"
"What does that mean, Jellybean?" she asked, laughing at how goofy she probably sounded.
The jellyfish strobed green again. Just once this time. Then, it slowly began to float away.
"Hold up a minute. Where you goin'?" She stopped leaning against the tree and stood up straight.
The jellyfished froze for a second, beeped green once more, then started off again.
"Ohhh, okay. I see. You leading the way? Well okay then." Aniyah smiled in spite of herself.
She followed behind the jellyfish. Together, they made their way through the darkened woods. Hopefully, to rejoin the others...
•2•
"I've never been in this part of the city before," Flower-Seed admitted. "I didn't even realize there was so much down here. I knew there were older parts of Locist Spire that were here before the Jikk, and that most of it was under the city, but I didn't expect there to be all of... this." He looked around, pausing briefly to admire the elaborate architecture around him. "I mean... Gods. There's actually streets down here. And structures. Not to mention these sculptures and platforms. It's breathtaking. It's almost like an entire settlement encased in a mausoleum. A sort of... civilization time capsule."
Quijj gave only a noncommittal grunt in response.
The two of them walked side-by-side along a wide street paved in stone. So much was stonework, or marble. The craftsmanship that went into all of it was something even modern Artisians likely couldn't replicate. Large sections of the old city were in ruins, but those that remained mostly intact made Flower-Seed feel as if he'd traveled back in time. If they'd had the sky overhead instead of a cavern roof, he could have easily imagined being in the center of a bustling metropolis.
They strode by a towering sculpture made to resemble some sort of animal Flower-Seed couldn't identify. It certainly wasn't any kind of insect, or Insectoid. It had four legs and a tail, plus a large round head. It was as intriguing as it was beautiful.
Cave crickets were softly singing in the nooks and crannies. The distant sound of dripping water played constant accompaniment to the hollow resonance of this subterranean wonderland.
They turned down what had once been a side street, with Flower-Seed leading the way. Up ahead, a cavern wall blocked their advance. There was a place where the wall had been broken, creating an opening just big enough for them to squeeze through.
On the other side, they came upon a ledge overlooking a sprawling cavern. There were more ledges--some, only narrow slabs of stone reminiscent of catwalks; others, much wider, holding half-ruined structures--high up along the cavern walls. And in the center, sitting like an island in the dark sea of darkness, was a sprawling marble platform. The platform was surrounded on all sides by crags and trenches so deep Flower-Seed couldn't see their bottom. There was a naturally formed staircase of stone leading from the platform to another opening. This was most likely the main entrance to this chamber. Flower-Seed realized now that he and Quijj had taken an alternate route to get here, than the others had.
Yes. There were others. A lot of them, from the looks of it.
On the marble platform below, rows of tents and even a makeshift gazebo had been set up. As Flower-Seed's eyes adjusted, he began to make out the robes of Advisors; the armor of Spire Knights and Spire Watch. There were excited, panicked voices echoing throughout the cave. Some sort of commotion was going on.
"I had no idea any of this was here," Flower-Seed whispered.
Quijj gave him a strange look.
"Don't ask how I knew where to go, or how to get here. I just... did."
Quijj nodded, but said nothing.
From the platform, someone yelled: "Arrest the traitor!"
"Ah, shit," Flower-Seed said. He was no longer bothering to keep his voice at a whisper. The figures gathered below had broken into something close to a frenzy. "They must be talking about the Councilor." He looked at Quijj with a serious expression. "We have to get her out of here. I'm not exactly the biggest fan of our government, but something really bad is going on down here. I got... visions. I saw Spire Knights with their minds corrupted by parasites. Whoever attacked the city... they've infected some of the officials. We have to do something. If we're ever going to rebuild... we need Jikk like Councilor Lemma. She's one of the good ones."
Quijj grunted in agreement. "Alright. Let's do it."
"What's the plan?" Flower-Seed asked, suddenly nervous. He felt a bit silly asking Quijj what the plan was, considering the elderly tavern keeper had just been following his lead up this point. Now that they were here, Flower-Seed didn't have the slightest idea what he was going to do. Or even what he could do. He couldn't fight a trained Spire Knight. Let alone an entire company of them. He'd only get himself killed!
Fortunately (and to Flower-Seed's great relief), Quijj said: "Just wait here. And get ready to run. Like you've never ran before."
"Alright. I think I can do that much, at least."
Quijj nodded. He drew his odd-looking weapon, and leapt down from the ledge; spreading his wings as he did this to glide over to the platform. Just as the old tavern keep came to a landing, Flower-Seed saw two armored Knights seize Councilor Lemma by the arms, and pull her to the ground. One of the Advisors screamed.
Shit! his mind cursed. Come on, Quijj. You gotta do something! And fast!
•3•
There was a particular knock at the hidden door to the Navigator's study. Three heavy raps, a pause, then two sets of four bangs; the coded knock he'd taught to the mercenary leader. The corners of Drokin the Navigator's mouth--little more than soft tissue on either side of his pointed beak--sagged slightly, in a parody of a frown. He shot a glance over to the wall-mounted clock above his desk. It was only Ef'tat-Half-Wane. The merc shouldn't have made it to this part of Barkstone Barony, for at least another three Shecks.
Drokin cast a suspicious eye toward the opposite end of the room. He reached beneath his desk, unfastening the blade he hid there. It was always good to have a backup weapon. The talon-like claws of his hand instinctively found the pommel of his rapier. "Enter!" he called to the door.
There was a hefty creaking sound as a considerable portion of the wall was pushed inward, revealing both the false rock of the door's opposite side, and the midday sunlight beyond the study. The light was much too bright for Drokin's eyes, after spending so much time inside the chamber under the Arcas Rune lamps. For a moment, he had to squint in order to get a decent view of his visitor. The moment Drokin saw the figure entering his study, his claws tightened on the handle of his weapon.
The one who appeared through the doorway was not the merc leader Rave the Ravager. Not by a long shot. The stranger was a Jagged Fields Nerthran, just as Rave was, but this was where their similarities ended. Rave was of slightly larger than average size for an adult male member of the mothfolk race. The Nerthran before Drokin was the antithesis of average (or "slightly" for that matter). He was enormous; much larger than seemed natural. If one of his crew mates had told Drokin about seeing a Nerthran the size of this one, Drokin would have labeled them an exaggerator at best, a boldfaced liar at worst. He certainly wouldn't have believed mothmen could grow this large, if he weren't seeing the proof of that very thing with his own two eyes.
"Where is Rave? Who are you?" Drokin demanded.
The giant mothman slowly stepped inside the study and creaked the door shut behind him. He did not answer.
"I asked you a question. Where is--"
In a baritone voice that was almost pleasing to the ear, the mothman said: "Would you Sky Pirates send your Captain on every minor mission, or simple errand? I am Master Rave's deliverer. I am called Nollo."
A peculiar name for such a hulking creature as this, the Navigator mused.
When Drokin didn't initially respond, 'Nollo' added: "I have the Relic you wanted." He held up a black rectangular case, almost like the kind a Bard might use for protecting a musical instrument.
Drokin thought this over a moment, studying the towering mothman carefully. He felt almost like he was looking up at a living statue. One of the great big ones that lined the streets of the grand cities of Roshuka, or populated the ruins of Jyyrvesk's Old Country. Even the hulk's features were oversized, as if they needed to compensate for the massive face to which they were attached. This 'Nollo' somewhat unsettled Drokin. The self-proclaimed "deliverer" had a long, slender mouth that didn't quite seem to want to close all the way. This gave the mothman an almost moronic appearance; a dimwitted face with the mouth of a drooling imbecile. Combined with his considerable size, it would have been easy to dismiss this Nerthran as a buffoon. Even the title "deliverer" played into this impression. And he seemed to have a permanent glazed over quality about his eyes. However, Drokin saw what lurked beneath the surface. When he looked beyond these things, the Navigator could detect a cold, calculating intelligence in the mothman's eyes. Upon closer inspection, the glazed over quality didn't strike the Navigator as entirely organic. It struck him as purposeful, practiced--part of a kind of disguise.
Nollo was a mothman with the soul of a spider...
As these things dawned on Drokin, the unsettled feeling he'd had since this mothman's appearance turned to something bordering on outright fear. The Navigator had been all across the Lesser and Greater Reaches. He'd seen some horrid things. Something about this stranger was different, however. There was something not quite Insectoid in his eyes; not quite Of This Pocket Realm, as the Captain was want to say. Drokin had never believed in the concept of evil. Not in the same way the Old Scrolls talked about it, as least. But now--here in his study, confronted by the figure before him--when he looked into those eyes, evil was all Drokin saw.
"You... have the Horn?" Drokin asked, trying to sound casual. His heart was beating at three times it's normal tempo. He slowly reached for the Link Orb. Calling out to Captain Heekan may have been the only chance he had left. "Let me get you the coin I promise then."
"Stop," said Nollo. "Put your hand down."
Drokin paused. The tips of his claws were just inches from the Orb. If he were quick about it, he could snatch the thing up in a microsecond. The Navigator was quick. He was a trained fighter, afterall. But... he knew intuitively he would not be quick enough.
"I beg your pardon?" Drokin said, trying and failing to keep some air of authority in his tone.
Nollo laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "There was never going to be any coin, was there? You think Master Rave wouldn't sniff out such an obvious con? You really aren't familiar with the Stonewing Pillar Mercenaries are you? We are not some low-level ratcatchers."
Drokin said nothing for a moment. At last, he sighed. He allowed his training to replace his fear. It took quite a lot of effort, but he managed. When his heart had returned to something closer to a natural beat, he leveled his avian eyes at the mothman. He dropped his hand, but brought it down to his rapier. He drew the weapon, but made no move to strike.
Through the end of his closed beak, Drokin growled: "Alright, asshole. Just what are you after?"
Nollo laughed again. He flipped open the brass latches on the black case he held, opened it. Inside, wasn't any Relic. That had been a lie. The black velvet lined interior of the case held a single object: a large throwing knife. Nollo removed the blade and let the case fall to the floor. "I'll need every piece of coin you have here. And anything else of value."
Drokin raised his rapier. "All our treasures are on the ship." He sighed, deciding to fess up. "I don't have anything here. You were right. I planned on taking the Horn and not paying. But I am obviously not getting what I wanted. There is no coin here for you to get what you want. Why don't we just call this an impasse? We both walk away, no better off... but no worse for wear than we were before. What do you say?"
Nollo shook his massive head. It was like seeing a boulder pivot atop a living column. "You think you can plot to take out our leader, and live to tell the tale? You're even more stupid than you look."
Now, Drokin was getting angry. "Do you have any idea who you're fucking with? You can't stand against our entire crew. We're the Hawkblood Pirates. You think Captain Heekan will just sit by and let you--"
The knife was buried in Drokin's windpipe, before he ever saw the mothman throw it. For someone so massive, Rollo had a dexterity and speed that were virtually unrivaled. There was a soft clang as Drokin's rapier fell to the floor; a soft gurgling sound as he began to choke on his own blood. He gasped for air his lungs couldn't find; his hands clawing at his throat to pull free a blade that wouldn't budge.
Drokin the Navigator fell to the floor with a hollow thud, knocking his chair over in the process. The last thing his dying mind registered before he lost consciousness was the sight of Rollo the mothman standing over him, whispering: "You Sky Pirates never should have come to the Wilden Green."
Then, Drokin was fading. Fading, fading.
Fading.
Fading from the mortal world, and headed for that Great Beyond...
•4•
Eyes. So many eyes. Staring. Watching.
Abominations. Wretched perversions of nature. Black-tongued things. Slime things. Things with many, many eyes.
Many. Many. Eyes.
Vellnoth! It was awful!
Zoocher slipped through a whirlwind of swirling shadows. He sank into quicksand of blackness. His mind shattered, then reformed. Shattered, then reformed. The world became a pane of glass which broke into a million, billion, trillion little pieces. He reached out, desperately trying to pick the pieces up, to put them back together.
It was no use.
Horrors. Eyes. Looking. Looking at me. Through me. Seeing me. Seeing all.
SEEING.
Zoocher rocked himself back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. There was dirt and grass beneath him. He was curled up into a ball, hugging his knees against his chest. Yet, these things were just background details. This was just his surroundings, and his physical body. His mind was somewhere else--perhaps, in another patch of dirt, slowly turning to mud. No. Not mud. Quicksand.
Sinking. He was sinking. Sinking, and slipping away. Slipping off into that Forever Night.
White Staircase?
No. He saw no White Staircase. Perhaps, only the Black Steps awaited him after all the awful things he'd done in life.
Only... there were no Black Steps, either.
Because he wasn't dead. Not yet, at least.
He was alive, but he was not living. Not in the normal sense.
Eyes. Watching. Looking. Seeing. Viewing. Glimpsing.
STARING.
GODS. OH GODS. OH VELLNOTH PLEASE!
No mercy for him. No Gods coming to save him. Only horrors.
He'd been in that terrible place, in that terrible room for what had felt like centuries.
Now he was back in the woods. But not all of him. He'd left some essential part of himself back there, back in that terrible place.
And now, he'd never get that part back. It was lost to him. For good. Forever.
Zoocher leaned over and vomited yellow bile onto the grass. His head was swimming. He slowly stood up. As he stood, everything fell away. Everything. His entire being. His essence. His all. His whole.
Zoocher? No. There was no Zoocher anymore.
Maybe there never had been.
Certainly, there would never be a Zoocher again.
Shattered.
Zoocher was shattered and lost. Gone. Now, Zoocher was no more. Forever departed.
He felt something warm and wet run down his legs. He'd urinated on himself without realizing it. This did not bother him. This meant nothing. He took a step forward and vomited onto his vest. This too meant nothing.
He stripped off his armor, his undergarments, his weapons. He kicked off his boots. To one side of the pile he'd made with his belongings, there were a set of bootprints in the dirt. He turned in the opposite direction, and started walking. He didn't know where he was going. He only knew he needed to walk.
Visions winked in and out of his mind. He continued walking, muttering to himself all the while. He spoke of everything, of nothing. He asked questions without answer. He gave answers to questions no one had asked.
Those eyes. They were burned into his brain. No. His brain was a burn. A scorchmark, littered with eyes. Staring. Watching. Waiting?
He walked on. Walking through the woods, to nowhere. Walking. Muttering. Thinking of eyes and Slime things.
It was a long time before he stopped.
•5•
There were two astounding sights, which presented themselves consecutively before him. In over two decades serving as one of the Hawkblood's top Assault Commanders, he had never seen anything more incredible than the Black Pyramid. That was, right up until the moment he saw the entire Pyramid vanish right before his eyes. If anything could be even more incredible than seeing the Pyramid; suddenly not seeing the Pyramid would have to be it.
Commander Ramses blinked several times, as if he were unable to trust what his eyes were showing him. The airspace beyond the windshield of his Glider Pod now showed only a sea of nothing, save for the Sky Gods higher up in the atmosphere.
"What the fuck? Where did it go?" he muttered to the empty cockpit.
The Glider Pods were designed to resemble plump black ravens. Ramses's Glider was slightly larger than the others in the fleet, as his was the Pod that carried most of the Big Weapons. Currently, they were in a V formation like actual birds; twelve in Ramses's group, twelve more in Commander Paulo's group that would have been approaching the Pyramid from behind; another twelve coming in from the right, making up Commander Gichi's group. The Gyff had their own Gliders, fashioned from wooden planks and some unknown material Ramses had never seen before. The Gyff ships looked a lot like the Gyff themselves; like long slender walking sticks. Their ships cut through the air like wooden missiles, lined up in a near row.
Ramses slapped the control panel, activating the Com-Cube. "Am I seeing things? Have I lost my mind?"
"No." It was the voice of Commander Gichi. She sounded uncharacteristically shaken. "The damn thing went POOF. Just like that."
The Gyff leading the stickbug group (his name was Kloom, if Ramses's memory served him) chimed in. "What do we do now? Will it reappear, you think?"
Ramses smacked the controls again, this time out of frustration. He said, "Somebody better get the Captain on the--"
"Already here," said the voice of Captain Heekan.
"You been listening this whole time?" Gichi asked.
"No. I just came on. Now listen. Everyone. Listen very closely. The Pyramid isn't in the valley anymore, but all is not lost. We will track it down. I already know where they took it."
Ramses gaped at this. "What? Captain... how could you already know all of that? It just vanished, only a few ticks ago."
Gichi made a soft gasping sound. "Captain. No. Tell me you didn't use it."
"I had to," Captain Heekan said with remorse. "The Mirror is too valuable a tool for us not to utilize it. And if ever there were a time when we needed it, it would be now."
"How many years did it take off your life?" Gichi asked hesitantly.
After a pause, Heekan said, "It doesn't matter. We're getting sidetracked here. There is a lot more going on than we realized. There are agents of not one, but two of the 5 Pharoahs here in the Wilden Green Valley, as we speak."
"What?" it was Gichi and Kloom in unison.
Commander Paulo broke his silence. "Which other Pharoah are we talking about?"
Heekan said, "Aside from Camaria the Butcher who we already knew about (it was one of her Scarabs that took the Pyramid), there's some of the Necromancer's men here too."
"The Necromancer?" Ramses said in disbelief. "The right hand man of Dowlmad the Deathless?" Ramses felt a cold chill run up his spine. "You're not telling me he is here in this valley, are you?"
"The Necromancer himself? No. Just some of his underlings. The Skinless Men, they're called."
Gichi asked, "Are they really all after the Pyramid and the Artifacts? I can't imagine two of the 5 Pharoahs would expend resources just for the stuff we're after. Aside for the Black Pyramid. But even still... something seems off here."
"Well," said Heekan. "That's because something is off. There are bigger forces at work here than we ever realized. Sure, they were after the Pyramid and the Divine Battery. But those are more like... party favors, to them."
Ramsese shook his head. "I already don't like how this sounds." The open sky outside his Glider suddenly felt less like empty airspace, and more like an endless abyss. One glance at the Sky Gods floating higher in the heavens strengthened this feeling, causing the commander to shudder as another chill ran up his back.
Captain Heekan said, "Then you really won't like what I'm about to tell you."
As it turned out, the Captain was absolutely right. Ramses really didn't like it one bit. None of them did.
•••
And Commander Ramses was not the only one who was told things they didn't like. While he was listening to his Captain's words with growing unease, elsewhere in the Wilden Green Valley, a certain Ranger was receiving a rather ominous warning...
•••
•6•
Deep within the bowels of the Reverse Tower. In the Domain of the Being known as O'Faxx.
Ranger Lexington stood atop the large boulder, surrounded by a sea of sludge. The putrid aroma of this place once more assaulted his senses, while his boots sank into the slick, squicky growth coating the boulder. Lexington's dragonfly-like features hid his discomfort. Outwardly, he appeared as stoic--as unshakeable--as always. At least, until he spoiled the effect with a knowing smirk.
To the bubbling muck, he called out: "So, you decided to help out afterall?"
There was no response.
Lexington's smirk faded. He bowed his head slightly. "It's alright. You don't have to speak. I only wish your assistance had been enough. That way Burlap wouldn't have had to give his life the way he did."
O'Faxx did not emerge from the murky depths.
Lexington would have sighed had the air quality in here not been so abhorrent. "Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. I will find a way to reward you."
Although O'Faxx remained beneath the muck, his voice echoed inside the Ranger's mind. "My actions were not on your behalf. Your ignorance betrays you, Overseer."
Lexington cocked his head to one side. "If you say so." He shrugged. "Some guys just can't accept a thank you, I guess."
"You have yet to understand. I helped you, to destroy you. None of you know yet what you are unleashing. I did not see the truth before, but the truth has now presented itself to me. The Gods wish to assemble the 12 and bring about the White Clock Consortion. Fools. They don't yet realize with the advent of the White Clock, the Black Clock follows. Those numbers shall count down their destruction. I looked into the destiny of the mortals you have placed so much faith in. I saw what they will bring about. They are one of the Four Winds that will blow upon the Door of Doom. One of them is a Paige of the Necronomicon."
"What does that mean? Quit speaking in riddles."
"There's a storm coming, Overseer. A storm that will wash away the world. This one, and all others. I haven't helped you. I've only helped the first few raindrops, so they might better form within the dark clouds hanging over this Pocket Realm. And in the wake of that rain? The thunder shall soon roll."
A storm coming. Four Winds that will blow upon the Doors of Destruction. Thunder.
These things made no sense to the Ranger. One thing was clear however; whatever O'Faxx's words meant, Lexington didn't like the sound of any of it.
•7•
There's a particular way Advisors and nobleJikk cry out when something disrupts their normal routine. It's a breathy sort of shriek, like someone emptying their lungs before they faint. Many of the High Advisors were voicing this exact variety of shriek now, as High Knight Pyx ordered his Spire Knights to arrest Lemma.
Temporary Councilor E'Shesh (to her credit) tried to block the path of the Knights. She was shoved out of the way, hard enough to cause the poor she-Jikk to tumble over onto the hard marble surface of the platform.
Then, underneath the makeshift gazebo, pandemonium set in. The stress of the attack on the city had already pushed everyone toward the brink of panic. This new development made them all leap right over the edge, falling right into the place people (Jikk, or otherwise) always fall in times like this one.
Lemma didn't run. She stood her ground, glowering at Pyx and Councilor Tholke; glaring as if she could knock some sense into them with her gaze alone. Of course, this was a futile endeavor. The Knights were upon here a moment later. Strong arms seized her, throwing her to the ground. Then, oddly enough, even stronger arms were lifting her from the floor. She stared down the Knights arresting her, but the expressions they gave her in return were not those of hardened Knights doing their duty. They were the expressions of Jikk who'd been caught completely off guard.
As she was lifted even higher, Lemma finally realized it wasn't the Knights who currently held her. It was someone else.
"What... who... what's going on?" she cried weakly.
She was being carried away by... one of the local tavern keepers?
"What's happening? What are you doing?" she demanded.
"She's getting away!" someone shouted.
"After her!" a Spire Knight ordered.
All at once, the Knights were airborne, in pursuit. The air was alive with the sound of buzzing wings, the shuffling and frantic falls of boots, and so much shouting. Lemma dangled over seemingly bottomless trenches and crumbling remnants of the City That Once Was.
The tavern keeper, in all this time, had only explained himself with a single grunt. Now, he was using his free arm to aim some kind of weapon at the Knights.
"No," Lemma pleaded. "Don't kill them. They're only doing their duty."
"Stun-shot," said the elderly tavern keeper. The words came an instant before his weapon discharged and the air behind them exploded in brilliant blue electricity. There was a loud series of crackling sounds, as the small-scale controlled lightning tore through each of the Knights. As if an invisible net had ensnared them, the Knights all froze in midair a moment, before their wings slowed to a standstill. They began to plummet down to the darkness below.
The tavern keeper voiced a soft grunt of regret.
"You can say that again," Lemma scolded. "The shot may have stunned them, but the fall will surely do a whole lot more. What's the meaning of this? Are you kidnapping me?"
The tavern keeper shook his head. "Behind you," he said. They climbed higher, closing in on the stone wall of the spacious cavern.
Lemma craned her neck to look back at the platform. What she saw horrified her. Hight Knight Pyx and Councilor Tholke. Even from this far away, she could see that their eyes appeared to have ruptured. From the vacant holes where their eyes had been, large fat yellow worms as long as sword blades were spilling out onto the platform. Each worm slapped down onto the marble, then immediately began to grow in size. Within mere seconds, each one grew to the size of a Field Roamer pup. And they only continued getting bigger.
The Advsiors and officials broke into a stampede, making for the platform's only exit; the flight of stone steps leading up to the passageway before street level.
"Gods," Lemma whispered. "We have to seal off the exit. We can't let those... those things make it up to the city."
But based on the ever-increasing size of the worms, and their ever-growing numbers, she feared it might already be too late.
"Hurry! Come on!" someone shouted, just ahead.
Lemma turned toward the sound of the voice. She saw a Jikk standing atop a stone ledge, high up on the cavern wall. She didn't recognize him.
A second later, the tavern keeper brought her down to a gentle landing on the ledge beside the unfamiliar Jikk. She eyed them both suspiciously. "Just what is going on? And who is this?"
"My name is Flower-Seed. And we've got to get the fuck out of here, Councilor."
The tavern keeper asked, "How can we seal it off?"
Lemma thought for a moment. "You came through there?" She pointed to the large gap behind Flower-Seed.
"We did," said the tavern keeper.
"Then we might be able to beat the worms to the surface. There's a secret tunnel in the cave ceiling, a little further on. Come on. We have to get to the statue of Kylo the Great, up in the Cobbler's District. There's a hidden lever inside. I know the code to turn it. It will seal off the Old City. It's our only chance."
"Then let's get moving," said Flower-Seed.
The tavern keeper only grunted his agreement.
Together, the three of them took off at a sprint. There truly wasn't a single moment to spare...
•8•
Rave spotted the figures below, standing patiently beside a gnarled, leafless gatortree. He came to a landing, just a few yards from them. Eight pairs of cold, dark eyes peered out from eight fleshless humanoid faces, considering him with an alien species of indifference.
A long black case was tucked beneath Rave's right arm. In his left hand, he clutched his Rune Stone expectantly. Any moment now, Nollo would be giving him the word that the deed was done. Any moment now. Rave had an internal clock that kept near perfect timing when it came to things like murder.
Sure enough, the Rune Stone began to grow warmer to Rave's touch.
Nollo's voice came through the Stone. "Boss?"
Rave grinned with what remained of his ruined mouth. "It's done?"
"It's done," Nollo confirmed.
"Good. I'd expect nothing less. You know where I'll be?"
"Yes, sire. I'll see you there shorly."
Rave didn't bother giving a final response. He put the Stone away and took the black case into his hands. The Skinless Men only watched him patiently.
Rave approached the figures beneath the gnarled tree. This was a remote region of Jikkellia's borderlands, where the high grasses gave way to miles of mostly barren dirt and rock. The gatortree stood out, in that it was one of the few trees on the visible landscape here. Just over the horizon, was the large mountain where a certain group of outsiders were rumored to have crashed in a small rowing vessel recently.
Rave waited for one of the skinless men to speak first. When none did, he said: "A lot of people wanted this Horn. You just so happened to be the only ones offering more than coin." This was a half-truth. The Sky Pirates had spoken of coin, but had in reality, offered only betrayal. "I've kept up my end. Now, I expect you to keep yours."
Rave's mind calculated dozens of ways he could slaughter each of these figures, should they show any sign of aggression. It was just how his brain operated. He plotted ways to thwart threats that hadn't even been presented yet. In this line of business, you had to stay twelve moves ahead.
Right on time, Rave's reinforcements arrived. He'd been doing these kinds of deals for far too long to ever go by himself. Even if he did feel confident enough in his abilities that he wasn't weary of the figures before him. Even in a 1 v. 8 duel to the death, he was certain he'd have the upper hand.
Four mothmen mercs landed just behind Rave--keeping their distance but standing at the ready. Rave didn't so much as glance at them. He casually stepped away from his foot soldiers and moved closer to the Skinless Men. "So, how about it? You said you had a way to get us out of this valley. Is that still true?"
One of the figures (there was really no way for Rave to tell the apart, as they all looked like carbon copies of each other) nodded. "We represent Pharoah Dowlmad. Pharoah Dowlmad always keeps his word. Give us the Black Horn and we shall give you freedom from this place."
Rave said nothing a moment. At last, he nodded. "Alright. I'll take you at your word." He slowly held out the case, offering it to one of the figures. The skinless man eagerly accepted the Artifact. He lifted the lid and removed the item inside, handing it to one of the others.
The Black Horn of the Olde Music looked like the hollowed-out horn of some bovine creature, like those Rave had seen sketched in old tomes. Aside from the fact it was black as obsidian, of course. There was a silver mouthpiece banded around the narrow end. That was all there was to the object. All in all, it was rather unimpressive looking by Artifact standards.
The other man examined it for several seconds, before deciding he was satisfied. He nodded back to the first man who took the Horn and returned it to its case.
"So," Rave said, taking on a tone of casual conversation while feigning ignorance. "What does that thing do, anyhow?"
The Skinless Men only regarded him coldly.
Rave nodded, flashing a half grin. "Fair enough. Now... as for your part of the bargain?"
"Yes," said the man holding the case. "You want your entire company to leave this valley? Return to us when you are all together. Some of us will remain here in this spot. We will give you three sunrises after sundown today. If you aren't here by then, we cannot wait any longer."
"We'll return long before then," Rave said.
There didn't seem to be anything more to say. He turned and motioned to the other mercs. "Let's head out. We'll regroup with the others and get everything underway."

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA...

♪ Feel Good Inc. ♪
In 1999 a greasy cartoon character from Stoke-on-Trent, England had a dream: To become the most wealthy and famous musician in the world. His method of doing so, simple: make a deal with Beelzebub for his immortal soul. Doing so would set off a series of events which result in the formation of The Gorillaz, a defining staple of British pop, British punk, alternative, scene, and the music landscape in general, their misadventures spanning just about every medium and platform you could imagine.

Group Feats

• Survive being hit by two missiles, with enough force to wreck their ATV, charred and blackened but otherwise fine.
  
• In a straight drag race, the results go 1: Murdoc, 2: 2-D, 3: Noodle, 4: Russel.
  
• The band evidently owns a device that can turn thoughts into music, "good for sampling". This is what the song in question came out as.
  
• Were once turned giant for a Times Square performance.
  

2-D

Vocals and Keyboard
♪ Skinny Ape ♪
The pretty boy singer, Stuart "Stu-Pot" Pot (original family name Tusspot) had few ambitions in life and even fewer thoughts in his head. He had a knack for music, having worked in his family's music shop, but mostly he occupied his time with zombie movies. That is, until Murdoc Niccals crashed into his life. Literally, crashed a car through the music shop's window and smacked Stu with his front fender. Stu went into a coma, and Murdoc's punishment for the crime was community service, namely taking care of Stu's comatose body until he woke up. Murdoc proceeded exactly the way he'd been before his sentencing and a second car accident knocked Stu up out of his coma. After waking up, Murdoc found out the kid could sing, and so conscripted him into the band. He got the nickname 2-D from the 2 Dents in his head that Murdoc had left, and each accident had "fractured" an eye, leaving them both completely black, giving him a very characteristic inky gaze, even if there's nothing much going on behind it.
Physicals

• Able to dodge pool balls fired from mounted guns, for a while anyways, until they start landing and ground him.
  
• Walks a significant distance through the desert while carrying Noodle on his back.
  
• Gets run over by a bumper car.
  
• A flying car hits him square in the head, he survives but is made comatose, then some time later he's sent flying through a car's windshield at 70 miles an hour, skids on his face for half a mile, and this wakes him up. The only confirmed long-term effect of either of these incidents was that it "fractured" his eyes and "pushed [them] inward", giving them the distinctive all-black look.
  
• Survives a massive explosion that launches him out of a well.
  

Other

• Turns around one part of his body at a time.
  
• It's possible that his blackened eyes inhibit his vision, or at least are some contributing factor to his perpetual clumsiness.
  

Murdoc Niccals

Bass Guitar
♪ Clint Eastwood ♪
The bass player, frontman, and self-proclaimed band leader, Murdoc is a rockstar's rockstar. A greasy, slimy, sleazy, grimy, foul-smelling, foul-tempered, hedonistic, narcissistic, hard-drinking, chain-smoking, womanizing, hip-thrusting, bass licking, Satan-worshipping dirty rag of a human being. Murdoc was the one who came up with the idea of Gorillaz, the one who sold his soul to Satan to make the band a success, and the one who got them their first headquarters, Kong Studios. Despite his near non-stop abuse (only tempered very recently by a stunt involving a demon mobster, the snowy mountains of Patagonia, and a prison break that nearly killed him), Murdoc always contributes to the band's image, their finances, their resources, their security, and sometimes he helps them make music too.
Strength

• Dislocates 2-D's jaw with a single punch.
  
• Hit a man with his bass so hard it permanently imprinted the logo into his neck.
  
• Kicks a hole in a speaker.
  
• Throws a stereo through a tour bus skylight.
  
• Slices zombies in half with a large scythe.
  
• Tosses an indestructible watch hard enough to wreck a spaceship/car.
  
• Deflects pool balls fired from mounted guns with pelvic thrusts, using nothing but some light protective padding.
  

Physicals

• Gets dick grabbed and slammed into the ground by a zombie gorilla hand capable of busting through concrete. Later it seems like one struck him to the ground too, though he's not seen getting up from that either way.
  
• Jumps some dozen feet from a standstill.
  
• Narrowly avoids a fighter plane's machine gun fire, then survives a bomb falling in after him.
  
• Deftly avoids falling fireballs and shrapnel while driving.
  

Other

• Despite any appearance to the contrary, Murdoc is actually very devious and cunning, capable of manipulating those around him to work against their best interest, all while keeping a multi-layered plan to himself.
  
• Murdoc reportedly was the one who made Cyborg Noodle, using spare amounts of the original's DNA. No contradicting story has ever come along to dispute this.
  
• Levitates, seemingly through meditation.
  
• Has a voodoo doll of 2-D, though he could presumably make ones for others.
  
• Carries his own fragrance, Essence Murdoc, which is a substance so toxic that it causes a giant to violently explode when ingested.
  
• Escaped from a Mexican prison using a paper mache dummy and a recording of himself.
  
• Summoned a host of demons and pagan spirits via Satanic ritual while on tour.
  
• Knows some cool car tricks.
  
• Knows some cool piss tricks.
  

Noodle

Guitar and Misc.
♪ DARE ♪
The girl who would come to be named Noodle was raised in a secretive Japanese military division, one which sought to use child soldiers as the perfect infiltration and assassination operatives. Noodle, while trained broadly in the ways of combat, was specialized in the use of audio warfare. Her teacher, however, upon learning that the project was to be scrapped and the trainees to be eliminated, couldn't stand to see her killed, so he wiped her memories with a codephrase so they could be reactivated later and shipped her out in a FedEx box. She wound up on the doorstep of the Kong Studio the very day the band put out an ad for a guitar player (after Murdoc shagged her in one of the studio's bathroom stalls (while she was dating 2-D)), and she immediately passed the audition with flying colors and was added to the lineup. She was named after the only English word she knew at the time, and even after regaining her memories it's stuck. Since then she's become the most compassionate, thoughtful, and consciously concerned member of the band, seeking to use their fame and platform to help better the world.
Skill

• Has been trained in every martial art, including sonic warfare, can play every instrument, and was taught English (among, presumably, other languages), lip-reading, and mechanics.
  
• Sweeps an interviewers' feet out from under them before they can react.
  
• Fights off a group of cultists.
  
• Able to battle using a samurai sword, even while blindfolded.
  
• Leaps over Russel, snatches his wig and slaps him on the back of the head, then pulls his arms out from under him to ground him.
  
  • Contextually this is meant to take place in a video game, but A) there aren't many other instances shown of Noodle's martial prowess and B) even the game characters don't act like they're game characters.
  • In-universe this skit was acted out by the real Noodle and Russel.

Physicals

• Sends a zombie gorilla flying with a jumping bicycle kick.
  
• Lopped off a man's head with one swing of a katana. Though the person in question was a shapeshifter.
  
• Jumps 20 feet into the air after a guitar solo.
  
• Deflects energy weapon fire using an indestructible watch.
  
• Falls several stories from the gigantic Del's chest, then again when a footstep launches her back into the air.
  
• Able to avoid, largely through luck but partially through movement, being shot by two helicopters' machine guns.
  
• Outpaces the multi-story tall Del with continuous forward handsprings.
  

Other

• Packs a collapsible tommy gun while being pursued by pirates, capable of bringing down an older model fighter plane.
  
• Carries some kind of custom submachine gun with a grenade lobber attachment.
  
• Briefly used a flamethrower while clearing zombies out of Kong Studios.
  
• Was able to, through undetermined means, survive this devastating crash and the follow-up bombing.
  
• An accomplished racer, also possibly ran clean through an electrified fence to make it onto the track.
  
• Surprisingly good at chess.
  

Russel Hobbs

Drummer and Mixer
♪ Saturnz Barz ♪
Russel Hobbs was a hip-hop head growing up in New York, who, by strange happenstance, has been dogged by the legions of hell for most of his life. During one particularly tragic incident, he and his friends got caught up in a drive-by shooting, one which left Russel as the only survivor. However, the spirits of his dead friends were nearly immediately sucked into his skull, allowing them to live on through him, and also giving him their combined musical knowledge to make him a veritable encyclopedia on hip-hop and musical composition. Sent to live with his uncle to try and recover from the trauma in the English countryside, Russel was found and then literally gagged and bagged by Murdoc and taken to Kong Studios. And after listening to their demos, he was impressed, and agreed to join the band.
Physicals

• Holds up an alligator while it's in the process of swallowing 2-D.
  
• Shakes and snaps the boards of a pier by walking.
  
• Scratched so hard his records caught fire and melted.
  
• Knocks a punching bag out of the ceiling (after beating on it for a while).
  
• Even while only semi-conscious, helps Noodle fight off a group of cultists.
  

Other

• Russel is a natural conduit for supernatural enemies, making him prone to possession. As a teenager he was possessed by a demon that made him double in size and gave him the strength to throw around other kids.
  
• Russel owns the highly coveted Hip Hop Machine, a tower of equipment which contains every beat known to man, most existing kinds of studio equipment, and the ghosts of several legendary drummers.
  
• Russel actually designed and handbuilt the Geep.
  

Gigantism

• Eating tons upon tons of polluted ocean life and jetsam in his journey to Plastic Beach caused his to grow gigantic. This went away after some starvation, but,
  
• Even post-gigantism, can seemingly switch between the two sizes at will.
  
  • Shown here actively size-shifting.
• Lifts a lifeboat with Noodle inside on his head, seemingly without noticing.
  
• Snacks on giant sharks.
  
• Grabs a sperm whale out of the water and throws it to bring down a fighter plane.
  
• Survived being harpooned, though just barely.
  

Del

Guest Rapper
♪ Rock the House ♪
Russel's closest friend both before and after his tragic death, Del would stick around as a spirit possessing Russel's body, summoned from inside Russel's skull and returns just as easily, his effects disappearing with him. He was used frequently in their first album as a guest rapper. You can see from these examples that Russ spaces out whenever Del is summoned, as Del seemingly can't exist physically while Russel is conscious. In between Gorillaz and Demon Days, the Grim Reaper caught up with Russel and took Del into the afterlife.

• Stomps the ground to send a massive fracture running through it. Whether this was from pure strength or an effect of the summoning of the gravestones from hell is unclear.
  
• Completely deflects pool balls fired from mounted guns with a still hand.
  
• Strikes with surprising speed, even when massive.
  
• Summons a horde of zombie gorillas, which are capable of busting through concrete.
  
• Being an intangible spirit, capable of easily shifting size.
  
  • Supposedly he grew to over 100 ft.

Cyborg Noodle

Backup Guitarist and Bodyguard
♪ Stylo ♪
After Noodle went missing and was presumed dead following a conspiracy surrounding the El Mañana video, a means to off one of the band's assailants after which she disappeared, Murdoc had an idea for a new album and, short of anyone to help him write or record, created a new guitarist and songwriter to play with him, especially on tour. So, using some remaining piece of Noodle's DNA in an unspecified capacity, he created a robotic duplicate, and decked her out with guns cause that'd be cool.

• Has a shotgun, and is perhaps too eager to use it.
  
• Packs a pair of uzis that tear apart a stone statue.
  
• Has a machine gun built right inside her mouth.
  
• Just generally has enough firepower to blow out a metal door.
  
• Able to still somewhat function with a hole going through her head and a large sea creature living in her body.
  

Ace

Backup Bassist
♪ Tranz ♪
Leader of the notorious criminal organization the Gangreen Gang, Ace was brought in to play bass for the band while Murdoc was incarcerated for unpaid parking tickets and attempting to bribe a judge to get out of it.

• Stabs through a basketball with a switchblade.

Vehicles

♪ 19-2000 ♪
The band have employed and spent millions on a number of different vehicles over their long career. As each has shown to be skilled drivers, any of them can effectively utilize the following.

• The Geep, an all-terrain vehicle with a high top speed and is equipped with a pair of missiles.
  
  • Runs fast enough to drive along a loop-de-loop and jump a wide gap.
  • Reportedly 180 mph speeds were required for the loop, and the gap is described as 200ft wide.
• An armored off-road truck. Interior here.
  
  • The truck in question was stolen from the Namibia military.
• Murdoc personally owns a Winnibego, mostly used for banging chicks.
  
  • Was used to bash a hole in the Kong Studios carpark, the hole in question seen here.
• Noodle personally owns a jetpack.
  
• Murdoc has a yak, named Madge, though she died a few years later.
  
• A Soviet-era submarine.
  
• A small, floating island with a windmill on it, capable of flying well above the cloudline (all told versions of events do state the island is or at least was owned by the band, and they do still have it).
  
  • Reportedly the island is hollowed out and filled with helium, requiring strings to keep it from floating away, though the story is immediately contradicted.
• The Charon, a 220 ft. titanium-based tour bus.
  
  • Buses in a later tour, not confirmed to be the same, could reach speeds of over 200 mph.
• The Stylo Camaro, with nitro. It can evidently transform itself into a shark-like submarine.
  
• A Ford Thunderbird.
  
• A "Fonda" motorcycle, dune buggy, and golf cart.
  
• Possibly scavenged during a zombie apocalypse are a rocket-powered motorcycle, a pickup truck with a mounted machine gun, and a fighter jet.
  
• An RV rigged up for space travel, possibly Murdoc's old Winnibego, that also puts new craters on the moon's surface by doing donuts.
  
• A rocket-powered racecar designed to quickly take them to another galaxy.
  

♪ Tomorrow Comes Today ♪