Custom nation project in Football Manager Creating Ossean, a fictional island nation situated in the North Atlantic
Sri Lanka (இலங்கை) is an island nation south of India in the Indian Ocean.
Iona is an island nation on the /civcraft minecraft server. The Capital island of Iona is based on a Scottish fishing village. The larger island of Mann is less restricted in build style.
Hi fellow AMS fans, I'll be traveling to London in a couple weeks, with my wife and kids (ages 10 & 11) for 3 nights. Any sites in town related to the series that you would recommend? Or recommended things to do otherwise? I'm thinking of visiting the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich. And possibly the Naval Office/Somerset House where I think Maturin met with Sir Joseph. Does anyone know where the nondescript entrance was? Thanks!
Don't get me wrong I love the game but both the depths and the sky islands have a lot of untapped potential that just wasn't fulfilled. Like new enemies and more unique bosses this game is in desperate need of just throwing unique and cool boss fights everywhere.
The sky islands lack variety and uniqueness aside from a few that are genuinely cool. I think I finished all the sky shrines half way into my 120 hour playthrough.
The depths desperately need a fresh set of enemies and more creepy baddies that fit with the atmosphere. As well as more biomes instead of feeling the same no matter where you are on the map.
Bothe sky and depths feel unfinished but had Nintendo put focus into one or the other they could've been a genuinely great addition rather than two okay additions
would there theoretically be areas without the knox infection, airborne or not such as australia, ireland , madagascar or like the falklands just some islands which would theoretically be safe right?????
would there be safe areas in the world where humanity could rebuild or like, its all fucked?
I was thinking about the overlap between Christianity and transphobia, how sometimes there's this retort, "Oh, are you trying to police my thoughts?" and yet I have seen a thousand times and more how Christians do believe in thought policing, how the smallest difference in cryptic poetry can set one believer against another.
Take The Pilgrim's Progress, for example. It's like half-Dante, half-Alice in Wonderland. What it gets from Dante is the moral pontificating, except where Dante tries to sound lofty to the point of abstract condescension, Christian takes all his arguments with ne'er-do-wells personally, with implicit or explicit hostility. He has an almost rabid edge to his tone where Dante at his most hideous is at least merely cold in his hatred of the damned.
Also, Dante's never really in any narrative danger of fucking up, whereas Christian is read from the kind of POV of someone who's gone through the looking glass and over the rainbow and through the woods to find Cerberus eating his grandma while offering some of the meat to the grandson in turn, and somehow Christian huffs and puffs again and again as if he never realizes that people like Ignorance are just making honest mistakes (if mistakes at all).
Because Christian bristles during so many of his dire encounters, he comes off, to me at least, as extremely paranoid. Every slight thing could be the wiles of evil, aye? Every slight discrepancy in the arcane logic of the disputes provokes Christian to pompously declaim on the errors of his disputants' ways because supposedly any such error is sufficient for Hell in the end.
Let's say that you can roughly categorize versions of Christianity in temporal relation to the Nicene and Tridentine councils. Versions from before Nicea are proto-catholic (this will include the Gnostics and Jewish Christians without claiming that the pro-Nicean uptake was pro-Gnostic or pro-semitic), pro-Nicean but anti-Tridentine ones are exo-catholic, and pro-Tridentine ones are intercatholic (not that the Orthodox are strictly pro-Tridentine, but they have more conceptual affinity with that system). Then there are para-catholics like the LDS or Iglesia ni Christo, who have a mutant relationship with Nicean doctrines, etc.
So, exo-catholic denominations would be e.g. Anglican, Lutheran, Reformed, Methodist, Evangelical, Baptist, etc., basically a lot of the ones that spread in areas where THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS was widely read. Again, Dante is as fanatical about minutiae as possible at least some of the time when policing the thoughts of the people he meets in the afterlife (or when his own thoughts are being policed by the ghosts and angels). The theme of having to debate Satan in microscopic detail does, after all, go back to the temptation-in-the-desert story (by contrast Job has no clue how to deal with Satan or God, and by pure random fortune does God stop letting Satan torment Job in the end, not because Job prooftexts the devil away with a clever bit of scripture). Still, the sheer way that Christian talks, especially to and about Ignorance, itself seems to me more particularly ignorant than Dante at his most obscure and otherworldly.
So I wonder how much of an impact on the exo-catholic national/political subcultures there has been, by THE PILGRIM's PROGRESS, or if it (the book) more just reflects an older paranoid ideology. Are so many Calvinists and Evangelicals, for example, so maniacal because they are distinctly more paranoid than average? What is the ratio of people attracted to exo-catholic Christianity because they are already paranoid and see membership in a local sect as rationalizing their paranoia, to people who become more paranoid because of independent membership in whichever sect?
Hi guys hope all is well, I’m looking for a 1911 either from Girsan or Rock Island in 10mm. Does anyone have any experience with either brand or any advice for me looking for a 1911 in 10mm.
This is the unofficial community of PTI .. the largest in Pakistan and sixth most popular political party in the world ..
PTI represents resilient nation of Pakistan striving to get Haqeeqi Azadi .. real freedom
To Kill a Predator is a work of fan fiction set in the Nature of Predators universe originally created by SpacePaladin15
whose Patreon you should subscribe to.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Depiction does not equal endorsement.
Hope you enjoy it!
--- Memory transcription subject: Martin Russo, Human Refugee Date [standardized human time]: December 14th, 2136
The initial search through the offers is not going well.
“What about John Hopkins University?”
“Pre-approved for their internal loan program.”
“University of California Berkeley?”
“Pre-approved for their internal loan program.”
“It’s pronounced Dartmouth, and they’ll help talk to the bank to take out a loan.”
“Are there any universities in your entire tribe that don’t want us to take out huge expensive loans?!”
With a frustrated yell, Vilek throws herself on a chair. Thiva sighs and crosses more names off the list.
I was expecting this. The US and its wretched predatory profit-based educational system is a non-starter. I am not saddling the lambchops with about a million dollars of debt. Each.
At least I’m unlikely to have to pay my own student loans back, what with my debt holder being a smoking crater.
“Hey, this is promising!” Thiva’s ears perk up. “I told Johan we were looking into education on Earth and he said he’d see if he could talk to some people at Lund University. They sent us an offer, check it out!”
“Lund University. That’s in Sweden…” I’m reading the letter rapidly on Thiva’s pad and getting more excited the more I read. “They’ve got both therapist and engineering courses. And they’re willing to transfer your credits and give you both full-ride scholarships, as long as you’re willing to start the term early and ‘establish a baseline of knowledge’. And they’ll split your classes into morning and evening so you don’t have to run double-claw studies like we usually do… And they’ll even have the UN pay for housing and transportation to Earth? Jesus Christ, that’s… really damn good.”
Vilek perks up too, both of them watching me closely now with wagging tails. “So what’s the catch?”
I read it again. Slowly and carefully. And I find myself faced with a bastard of a choice. “Well for a start… this says nothing about me.”
Vilek and Thiva are running the math. It’s not looking good. “What if we sell your house? That should give us plenty of money, right?”
“Vansi still owns it, even if she’s never setting foot there again. How about a loan?”
“Nah, that was the first thing I checked. Banks aren’t issuing loans right now. Even taking out any money is hard. With the economy in freefall they don’t want to encourage a bank run.”
I chime in unhelpfully. “And I don’t think they want to give out a loan for a one-way ticket someplace they can’t make us pay it back.”
Thiva pouts with frustration. “That too. Ughh, this was such a good opportunity, too!”
“It is. So maybe you girls should go anyway.”
Thiva’s eye locks onto me right away. “No.”
“I’m just saying-”
“No, I’m not leaving you alone here! I can just finish school here, and…”
“…and leave Vilek alone on Earth instead? No, you two should stay together. I can house-sit Thiva’s place and try to find a job. Maybe get enough money for you girls to head back during summer and winter breaks.”
“I told you it’s not my place, it’s Vansi’s.”
“And she’s welcome to it as soon as she gets out of jail.”
Vilek flicks her tail-tip with uncertainty, ears moving thoughtfully. “…Are you sure this is our best bet?”
“I’m pretty sure it is. And we don’t have a lot of time to look for alternatives. Says here you guys will be working with a pair of tutors to make sure your knowledge base is up to spec, and that’d start in just a few days.” They’re my friends, and they have an amazing opportunity here. I have to be strong. It’s what’s best for them. It’s just a year or two. It’s not like I’ve barely survived the last month and a half on this wretched rock.
Date [standardized human time]: December 15th, 2136
Today’s physical therapy session is in my room. If I were hoping that’d lead to less pain, I would’ve been wrong. “C’mon, keep pulling your leg back! That’s the way!”
My arch-nemesis is currently leaning on my leg and levering it back toward my torso with her entire weight, and is encouraging me to pull back with both arms too. I’m pulling like a beast, teeth gritted so hard I think they might crack. “don’t… fucking… say it…”
My vision is blacked out from the sheer goddamn agony, while Chasa cheerfully encourages me. “Gold star, Martin! Do it for the gold star!”
But it’s the only way I’ll be able to restore a normal range of motion without lopping my limbs off and going for prosthetics. “mother… fucking… hate you…”
Which I can’t afford. And besides, upper prosthetics are nowhere near as advanced as people think. “That’s the way! Alright you can let go now, you did an amazing job!”
I collapse back immediately and straighten my leg. Opening my eyes I can see white stars dancing in my vision. Chasa pads up the bed and licks her paw before stroking it through my hair, giving me another cowlick. “Good boy, I’m so proud of you!”
I am defeated. “…thanks.”
“Hey, uh, is this a bad time?”
I blink at the familiar voice and turn my head. Mosun’s standing there with a confident expression, and Jarkim is right beside him. They both look good, far better than me at least. Jarkim’s got bandages on his leg and Mosun’s got a clavicle brace, but they’re both mobile.
Chasa gingerly climbs down from the bed and moves over to my file. “Nope! We were just done for the paw, except I was gonna give Martin his gold star~! He loves the gold stars!”
“…I am going to eat you.”
Jarkim squawks with alarm at my threat to my Zurulian nemesis. She is undeterred and cheerfully says “No you’re not.”
Jarkim speaks up. “Aren’t you… concerned, about him using that sort of language?”
Chasa stretches idly before placing the shiny sticker on my file. I’ve still got one for every session. “Nah, he doesn’t mean it. Threats and cursing are proven to help human pain responses, that’s all! He’s a big softy; I’ve got him eating out of my paw.”
I try to sound disagreeing but it comes out as a rather pathetic whine. “…I’m an apex predator…”
“So you were both discharged?”
Mosun flicks his ear affirmative. “I was in for a paw longer than Jarkim was, but we’re out and healing now. It’ll be another thirty-ish paws before my collarbone’s fully fixed up, but I can return to daily life.”
That’s an insanely short time to recover from a shattered collarbone, but I suppose the medi-teddies are the leading health care providers in the galaxy for a reason.
I nod. “Well, that’s good. The rest of the posse doing okay?”
Jarkim moves a wing in the positive. “Hanya got in contact with that human you mentioned, doctor Eriksson. She seems positive about it. Slavik’s back on their farm.”
I nod. “So what are you guys gonna do? I, uhh, I don’t know what you do for work, Mosun, but I think Jarkim’s out of a job.”
Mosun grins, before getting a thoughtful look and tapping his leg a few times on the floor. “I drive around stocking vending machines, so nothing that matters. But I’ve been teaching Hanya a little, like she asked. And I think… I think I’d rather like to start a Dance school. So I’ll be saving up a bit and getting it set up while I heal.”
It’s clear he doesn’t mean ballet, but I make sure to censor myself around Chasa just in case her cheerful disposition toward humans doesn’t carry on to ‘primitives’. “I think that’s a fantastic idea. I know there are a ton of humans who’d be lining up for a chance to learn your culture’s Dances. Yotul too, obviously. And Hanya’s shown there’s interest from other sapients too…”
Jarkim clacks his beak twice before speaking. “I’ll go work on Slavik’s farm for a while to pay them back, and to stay airborne. But after that… I want to help people. And I’ve still got contacts. So I was thinking of setting up a sort of troubleshooting agency. People could come to me with problems, and I’d try to help them out.”
I laugh, but quickly reconsider as my body protests the action. It’s the most stereotypical ex-cop thing he could do!
“You’re gonna become a freaking private eye?!”
Jarkim looks me dead-on and deadpan. “…What’s a private eye?”
Date [standardized human time]: December 19th, 2136
My fingers run through Vilek and Thivas’ fur slowly. I have been discharged from the hospital, but I’m still going to be in for physical therapy every other paw for the foreseeable future. Right now, though, I am relaxed. “How long, now?”
Vilek answers. “Half a claw.”
That’s not a lot of time, but I am determined to not ruin it with a foul mood. “Mm… You girls all packed?”
“There’s not a lot to pack. We’re getting most everything once we’re there.”
Thiva’s currently quietly crying onto my shirt. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, lambchop. But I’ll feel better with you two together, and doctor Eriksson is in Lund, so you can have in-person sessions.”
“And you’re sure you can’t come with?”
I shake my head. “Unless you got any new ideas. Besides, moving between human nations is a pain in the ass. I can’t get in as a refugee. Sweden’s been strict about refugees since before the Satellite War: I set foot on Venlil Prime first and VP’s been willing to house me, so that means according to Sweden and most other nations that I have to stay here until I can go back to the US.” Fucking ‘first safe harbor’ laws.
“And since I’m a citizen of the United States of America I can’t move to Sweden on my own anyway. At least not without having a job or family or something there.”
Thiva looks up at me and says softly “…We’re family, right?” Oh, wow, okay.
I bite my lip for a second to keep from crying. It mostly works. “Yeah, of-of course we are. But that’s not how they see it. Don’t worry, we’ll try to figure something out. We just need to be patient.”
She gives a soft and sad sigh. I scratch behind her ears and look over at Vilek.
Vilek gives a soft beep and leans her head against my other hand. “Do you know a lot about the place?”
I shake my head. “Almost nothing. Lund’s a city in Sweden, and Lund University is around five hundred years old. Before going to Venlil Prime I had never left the US, which is almost as far from Sweden as you can go before you start getting closer again. But it was practically untouched by the extermination fleet, and the people are famous for being friendly.”
Even that much I had to search online to learn. The stereotype that Americans can’t tell Swedes from Swiss might not be true but it’s apparently not as far off as I thought.
“You’ll be studying one claw, then a break claw, then another claw of study, then you have three claws off. These six-claw periods are a day. You’ll study five days, then have two days to yourselves.”
Vilek whistles a soft laugh. “So there’s a lot of time to recover.”
“Remember, humans tend to sleep for eight hour stretches. So most people sleep eight hours, study or work eight hours, and have the remaining eight for transportation and personal stuff.”
“Hopefully that’s not going to be a problem…”
“I managed to adjust to VP’s time, I’m sure you’ll manage Earth’s. Worst case scenario, there’s coffee. Every student lives on coffee. And there’s soda, and potato chips, and curry. There are so many tasty things that you girls will adore trying on Earth.”
Thiva wags her tail softly, looking up at me. “You make us sound like gluttons.”
“No, I’m saying I miss those things because Venlil food sucks.”
Both girls play-push me and bleat with protest, making me laugh. Mary mother of God I am going to miss them.
“Speaking of that, it smells like the food’s done.”
“Huh? I don’t smell anything?” Thiva gives me her most deadpan expression of confusion, and I roll my eyes at her and gently pinch the tip of her ear to pay back her jest. That elicits an adorable little squeak, and I smile while I get up and grab my crutch. I won’t be able to walk unaided for a long time, perhaps ever. I’m okay with that. I kinda want to have a walking stick anyway. A classy wooden one, like Tom’s. Maybe I can be the first human with a walking stick made from Venlil wood?
I put out the spread. Cooking has been an extra pain in the ass with my injuries, but I’ll be damned if that’s going to stop me.
I present the plated-up meal on the table by the couch with a small flourish. “Here we go, girls. This is the meal I was going to make for you before things got… hectic. Tomato focaccia and pasta alla norma. And to drink, wine. That’s a fermented drink from the juice of grape berries. This particular wine is a variety called Nerello Mascalese, from my family’s ancestral home of Sicily.”
Vilek wags her tail as she leans forward. “This focaccia looks sort of like Strayu, but with a bunch of stuff on top?”
“It’s a sort of bread, almost all human cultures have some variation on bread. I’ve topped it with cherry tomato fruits, rosemary herbs, and kosher salt.”
The lambchops look at it with excitement, and Thiva’s the first to tear off a bit and place it on her outstretched tongue. She rolls it into her mouth and starts chewing, and her ears perk up and her tail wags at once. Her eyes half-close and she looks like she’s melting. “Ohhhh Protector… it’s so sweet, and salty, and juicy, and-and-and-”
Vilek excitedly tears off a piece for herself and plops it into her mouth. I’m rewarded for my hard work with an adorable squeal of joy from her, and she takes a second piece and shovels it into her mouth too. Only after swallowing does she focus an eye on me. “If I didn’t already want to mate with you beforehand, this ‘focaccia’ would’ve sealed the deal!”
I find myself blushing rather hard, and simply take a small bit of the bread for myself wordlessly. Thiva and Vilek both whistle a laugh.
After having thoroughly sampled the bread Thiva pokes at the pasta dish with a claw. “So what’s this other stuff? It looks utterly wild!”
I smile at the two, letting my explanation cool my jets a bit. “Pasta is made by combining a ground wheat powder with water, and then shaping the resulting dough and boiling it. Here I’ve combined it with a sauce made with tomato fruit and herbs, as well as a spongy and nutritious plant called eggplant. You guys don’t seem to mind bitter plants, so I figured it might be a good idea. Finally, it’s got a vegan ricotta made with almond nuts, lemon juice, and garlic powder… and basil, a wonderfully fresh leafy herb. This is a classic meal from Sicily, modified the tiniest bit for my herbivorous lambchops.”
The two take a pair of spoons and scoop up some of the mixture, making sure to get a bit of everything. They look at each other and, on an unspoken signal, put the food in their mouths.
They squeal and gasp. Vilek even squirms happily in her seat, while Thiva just wags her tail rapidly and moves her ears in slow little circle motions as she chews. Vilek’s the first to speak up. “…this is absolutely crazy, there are so many flavors… all at once! But I can taste each one…”
I pour some of the wine into their glasses, wincing a bit at having to awkwardly brace the heavy bottle in both hands.
I know the Venlil can hold their alcohol well enough to make the Irish blush, so I’m not concerned about that part. Having tried Venlil drink once, I am mostly curious as to if the lambchops will be able to appreciate the complexity of something that doesn’t taste like everclear and paint thinners.
As they take small sips, I needn’t have worried. Thiva in particular bleeps with joy and perks her ears. “Oohh… that’s rich! There’s sweetness, and acidity, and a sort of dried herb taste underneath it all?”
Vilek adds her own opinion, but is slower with it. “There’s a sort of earthiness… and I can taste it a little differently just by holding my mouth near the glass… that’s wild. It goes really, really well with the food too…!”
I laugh quietly. “Heh… I’m glad you girls enjoy it. Just make sure to leave some room for dessert. There will be chocolate cake.”
Thiva tilts her head. “You humans have meals for after
“Only for special occasions. Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”
“It looks like dirt.”
I wait patiently with a small smile. They load their spoons with some of the moist, spongy chocolate cake and the rich frosting that I’ve so lovingly slaved over. And into their mouths it goes. I wait for the reaction.
It does not disappoint.
They immediately start devouring their dessert, while I grin. “Well girls, If you don’t want the ‘dirt’ I’ll be glad to take it off your paws.”
They quickly protest. “Don’t you dare!” “Yeah, we’re keeping the whole thing! This stuff is better than mating!” “How would you know? You’ve never even done it!” “Yeah okay, but am I wrong?” “…I didn’t say that!”
Laughter and whistling fills the room. As far as last meals together goes, this one is going about as well as I could’ve hoped.
We’re standing outside. We’re beside the politely impatient cab driver that’ll take the girls the first leg of their journey to the space port and on to Earth. Thiva’s crying again and clinging to me. It hurts, but I grin and bear it.
Vilek smiles, the human expression looking a bit foreign on her face. “…You promise you’ll be okay? I… I need to hear you say it.”
Thiva flicks her ear and tail. “Yeah. W-We can still change our minds, if… If you need us.” I have no goddamn idea what I am going to do after you girls step into that cab.
I smile at my beloved lambchops, give them a warm hug, a pair of quick kisses on their cheeks.
And I lie to their faces.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine without you.”
This is the penultimate chapter of this story. Thank you for reading so far!