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The original was posted on /r/science by /u/mvea on 2024-11-24 02:51:17+00:00.

Original Title: Learning CPR on manikins without breasts puts women’s lives at risk, study suggests. Of 20 different manikins studied, all them had flat torsos, with only one having a breast overlay. This may explain previous research that found that women are less likely to receive life-saving CPR from bystanders.

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submitted 6 hours ago by bot@lemmit.online to c/hfy@lemmit.online
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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/arekban on 2024-11-24 04:01:38+00:00.


Synopsis: Markus is summoned from Earth by evil beings looking for a 'weak and primitive' creature to use as sacrificial entertainment. What they got instead was a human. Immediately after arriving, Markus awakens to an ability so rare, so powerful that it makes every god on Firrelia desperate to recruit him as their new champion.

Learning to control his innate mastery over mana, Markus will devour the very essence of any monster, demon, or god that dares get in his way, determined to never lose his freedom again.

——

First | Prev | Next | Patreon | Discord

Markus was a being of pure energy. That’s how he felt. Detached from his worries. Divorced from all concerns. His body was anger and vitriol and light, and the darkness he stood to purge quivered in response to his stolen strength.

No. Not stolen. Claimed.

And Markus had claimed this power for one sole purpose…

He reached out with broken blade, arm extended, leaping into the air once more. His glaive carved a solid line through the creature’s neck, causing yet more blood to spill from it, sizzling against the sand below as it fell.

Markus was power. The strength he held within him almost felt as if it should burn, but he was so thrumming with impossible energy that he could scarcely register pain.

He only felt adrenaline. A reason to keep attacking, to keep cutting into this thing, to push harder, to inflict more damage, even as he was repeatedly rebuked—his arm was broken in three places the last time it had shoved him away; he healed before he’d even reached it again.

Markus initiated another attack. He traded more blows with it. He was stronger and faster than he’d ever been before, by a wide margin, too, and with the Divine Mana at his disposal, he was able to breach the enemy’s defenses…

But this creature was still stronger. He hated admitting that. It took him so many repeated attempts and so many near-lethal injuries before he was finally able to accept that it was only the advanced healing factor his overcharge seemed to have brought about that was keeping him in this fight.

Every attack he weathered healed him right after it damaged him. The energy from the blow compounded with the injury, and the two cancelled each other out.

At first, there’d been no struggle. No pain. It’d been effortless to keep going. To keep carving through yet more of this monster, little by little, chopping and stabbing his way through its defenses and slowly exhausting it with each unfettered assault.

After his tenth time shattering his bones from the force of being smashed down into the sand by this immense titan, he was starting to recognise just the slightest bit of resistance forming within his body.

It wasn’t quite pain. Not yet. He still had plenty left to give.

Only…

Attacking the way he was didn’t seem to be doing enough damage. He had the durability and the speed to get on top of this thing and hit it, but in a question of endurance, it was beginning to look as if the worm would easily outlast him if this were to keep up too much longer.

Drathok continued to lend support with arrows and occasional melee strikes, but he was unable to penetrate the creature’s divine barrier. The element in its raw potency seemed to be a real dampener on his abilities as well as a major weakness of his, and Markus was becoming increasingly cognisant of that fact the more he witnessed the demon attempting to intervene.

And yet he still tried anyways.

Markus needed to think something up. He’d avoided using his abilities thus far, not wanting to incur whatever penalties his toxicosis would bring about for him and similarly aware that half of his powers wouldn’t even work with the level of Mana Poisoning he currently suffered.

But he needed to do something. Brute force wasn’t working.

The monster smashed yet another hole into the arena’s wall, causing yet more of the stands to crumble away and cave in on themselves.

It wasn’t compelled to attack Markus, nor Drathok. Without Randall here to corral it, it didn’t seem to be beholden to anything.

If it decided to leave, to inflict death and havoc upon the city…

Thousands might die before anyone else stopped it. Maybe good people. Not everyone here had to be a death-loving freak, after all…

Markus couldn’t have reservations in a moment like this. He needed to fight with his abilities, use his strengths.

He ran forwards and leapt into the air.

He imbued his weapon with Divine Mana as he cast [Triple Strike], stabbing three times against the monster’s throat and then following up with a fourth and fifth strike further up, immediately utilising Thrust King’s compound passive at the peak of his jump to activate a compound between [Acid Slash] and [Detonate] as he pushed his blade inside and tried to ride down the creature’s throat all the way to the ground.

Explosions ricocheted from the end of his blade for but a second, but began to stall as his blade became stuck around five feet from his initial point of entry, snagged against a hard, immovable scale that dug into his arm.

He attempted to drain the creature some more from where he dangled, but he was launched off into the sand below before he could take more than a drop of life from the bastard thing.

He attempted to spring back to his feet as he had before…

But he felt dizzy.

Vertigo.

Nausea.

His head didn’t like what he’d just done…

He felt a hand grasp his. He was being yanked back to his feet.

Drathok withdrew his hand with a wince and a rising tinge of smoke, as if burned by Markus.

Drathok stared at him as the worm writhed and shook in place, the blood flowing freely from its burnt neck beginning to slowly cessate, almost as if it were intentionally clotting it, the tissue becoming increasingly necrotic and still with each passing moment.

It was beginning to cope with its injuries.

And Markus’ were all too quickly beginning to catch up.

It was sheer vissicitude.

“Hey,” Markus said as he was pulled up, as he stared at the horrible motherfucking thing which was at least halfway through recovering already. “Was there a plan for killing this thing? Something you were gonna do before I decided to turn around and throw myself in the hole with you?”

That,” Drathok said, pointing at a cylindrical object on the floor that somewhat resembled a fucking bazooka. “I was going to try to stop it with that. Or at the very least, slow it down.”

“And that is?..” Markus asked as Drathok floated the strange object closer, noting how many runes were grafted all over it.

“A mana cannon,” Drathok answered.

Great. He was right. A fucking mana cannon.

That sounded dope.

He snatched the thing from midair immediately.

He immediately felt a presence within. As if the weapon itself had attached itself to him, its runes glowing right and blue.

“Okay… how the fuck do I use it?”

“You force your mana into the cylinder and then fire it out of the end. Ideally, you hit your target, too.”

Yup. Sounded like a cannon alright.

“Using it is a death sentence,” Drathok continued. “These weapons are imperfect, and it will continue to take from you until you die. Once you begin to feed it mana, it will only continue to continuously drain you until—”

Markus ignored him, aiming the bazooka and firing a beam of golden light right at the worm like it was a fucking gatling laser.

He smirked as he immediately cut the beam off. His capacity had dipped by about 200%. His heart ached a little.

“Hey! What were you saying?!”

Markus wasn’t being facetious. He literally couldn’t hear shit over the sound of the cannon firing.

And the worm had a new hole in its chest. It looked… angry.

“Mana manipulators…”

“Drathok?!” Markus yelled through his ringing ears. “You were telling me something about how this thing works? Right?”

“I… just do that again!”

Markus blinked. “Really? Just like that?”

“Yes!”

“You’re sure?”

“JUST SHOOT IT.”

Well, shit. Didn’t need to tell him twice.

Markus loaded up the cannon with more Divine Mana and fucking fired.

Boom. Hit that thing square in the… was it the chest? He’d called it a ‘chest’ in his mind just now. It was a long draconic worm. At some point the front of it had to stop being its neck, right? Or was it all neck?

Body?

Markus shot it in its body. Each shot used anywhere between 50 and 200% of his Divine Mana depending on where he cut off the charge-up. It didn’t take very long at all to get to that point.

Drathok seemed astounded at his results. He supposed that watching someone shoot divine power from a fucking cannon probably looked pretty impressive.

Markus watched as the worm finally bridged the gap between them and attempted to slam down on top of him.

His first instinct was to jump back, but it wasn’t happening. He wasn’t locked in place, but this thing started to feel incredibly heavy as soon as it was time to start moving, almost as if it wanted you to just stand in place and fire it repeatedly until you were done.

It was impossible to dodge properly. Markus took the strike full-on.

…he barely remained standing. He had a Giant’s passive to thank for it. Guardian. A passive that specified a Constitution increase while standing within a small area for a long time as its sentinel, with its bonus increased if he ...


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submitted 6 hours ago by bot@lemmit.online to c/hfy@lemmit.online
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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/sjanevardsson on 2024-11-24 03:26:05+00:00.


“Allow me to make the facts of the case clear.” The newly elected prosecutor, Hiratha of clan Ororos, stood at her designated spot, addressing the panel of judges. Like her, they were covered in a fine layer of fur, wearing stylish sashes. Hiratha extended one of her six upper tentacles, spreading the six small, grasper tentacles at the end, pointing in the manner of her people at the dock.

Maxwell sat in a cage in the dock. He was meant to be standing, but it wasn’t built for someone as tall as him. He was the only human in the chamber, surrounded by the fluffy oraxans. Max was made uncomfortable by the confines of the dock, the chilly temperature of the room, and the prospect of being found a criminal without being told what he was suspected of.

Hiratha swayed all six of her upper tentacles. “Maxwell of clan Martinez, did the Department of Genetics provide you with a suitable match?”

“Who … what?!” Max looked at Hiratha, smaller than her campaign ads made her seem, trying to determine if this was all an elaborate prank or she was serious and insane.

“Answer the question.” Hiratha’s tentacles stiffened at her sides, pointing straight down. “Did the Department of Genetics provide you with a suitable match?”

Max wanted to stand, but the cage was too small. “I don’t understand what you are asking.”

Hiratha extended a tentacle behind herself without looking and picked up the sheet of processed cellulose on the table behind her. She held it out where it could be seen by the judges and the accused. “Did you receive this notice of genetic suitability?”

Max looked at the paper she held. “Yes, but—”

“A simple yes or no will suffice.” She put the paper back on the desk behind her.

“But I’m—”

“Hold your comments while I am questioning you.” Hiratha gestured at the judges. “Please forgive me, honorable judges, but his continued outbursts point to his disrespect and disdain for cultural norms.”

Max groaned. This was ridiculous.

“Maxwell of clan Martinez—”

“My name is Maxwell Luis Martinez-Orwell,” Max cut her off. “No clans, just family names. But please, just call me Max.”

A shudder ran down all Hiratha’s tentacles, the oraxan equivalent of a sigh. “Very well. Max, when did you become of citizen of the Slimark Republic of Planets?”

“Day 382 of period 854. It was my seventeenth birthday in Earth years, and I’m thirty-four now.”

“You have had more than nine periods since then.” Hiratha waved her tentacles in an inquisitive gesture that Max was certain was acting and not sincere. “Would you consider nine periods a reasonable amount of time to acclimate to a culture and its laws? That is, after passing the citizenship tests and proving your knowledge of that culture and those laws, is nine periods long enough to acclimate?”

“I grew up here,” he said. “I was born here, since my folks were ambassadors.”

“Answer the question, Maxwell Luis Martinez-Orwell. Is nine periods long enough to acclimate?”

“Sure. I guess.” Max sighed.

“When did you learn about reproduction — specifically oraxan reproductive cycles and customs?” she asked.

“I guess I was still a young kid,” he said. “I was a bit precocious in my curiosity about where babies come from, whether it was humans, puppies, or oraxans.”

“So that was before you became a citizen?”

“Yes.” Max leaned against the side of the cage. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m asking the questions here.” She snapped her tentacles as his teachers had done, creating the sound of six whips simultaneously cracking.

Max sat up straight and folded his hands in his lap. He chuckled at himself internally for becoming a schoolboy at the sound.

“What,” she asked, “happens during the thirteen days beginning on day 211 of the period?”

“Life festival,” Max answered.

“And what does the Festival of Life celebrate?”

“When oraxans enter their fertile cycle.” Max leaned back. “This is youngling school stuff.”

“Exactly.” Hiratha paused a moment before continuing. “Do you know what the Department of Genetics does?”

“I guess they find suitable matches for reproduction?” Max cocked his head. “I know oraxans don’t do the whole family for love thing.”

“Your guess is good, but it goes further. The Department of Genetics finds the matches in a given geographical area with the most diverse genetics; those who are most dissimilar and most distantly related.” She extended a tentacle with spread graspers toward him. “Do you know why they do that?”

“Oh, I remember this from school,” he said. “During the era of the First Republic, people didn’t travel very far, and the unmanaged fertility cycles led to in-breeding and the propagation of genetic illnesses.”

“Maxwell Luis Martinez-Orwell, you have admitted to knowing oraxan culture, the reasons for the Festival of Life, and the importance of the work of the Department of Genetics. Despite knowing all that, though, you failed to follow the instructions given to you for the most recent Festival of Life. I hereby request that the judges find you culpable and award punitive damages in the amount of 190,000 regals.” Hiratha whipped her tentacles again and moved behind the table to sit.

The lead judge said, “The accused may now speak on their own behalf.”

Max heaved a sigh. “Okay, first of all, I’m not a suitable genetic match for anyone on this planet. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m human, not oraxan, and the other humans in the embassy are all related to me.”

He gestured toward the prosecutor’s table where the decree still sat. “Yeah, I got that. I figured it had to be a clerical error. One thing the Republic is very good at is bureaucracy. I figured it would get straightened around, no problem, once they figured out they matched a human for breeding.”

Max looked around the chamber. “I still don’t know what law I’ve been charged with breaking, and I have no representation, nor was I asked if I wanted any. I can afford an attorney, so please, can we put this trial on hold long enough that I can hire one?”

When no answer was forthcoming, he continued. “Look, I’m not sure what the crime is, but the guilty party is the Department of Genetics, or whoever in that department made the error. Why the prosecutor is coming after me so hard makes no sense.”

One of the judge panel members spoke up. “This is not a criminal court, this is a civil matter, and there is no prosecutor here, just the aggrieved, and you, the accused.”

Max closed his eyes and shook his head. “Wait, wait wait wait. I got bundled into a van, stashed in a cell, then locked into a literal cage in the courtroom for a civil case?!” He took a deep breath and did his best not to scream.

“Okay, if this is civil court, why all that and why am I locked in this cage?” he asked.

“This is standard procedure for any case which could lead to the aggrieved being injured by the accused or vice versa.” The lead judge swayed his tentacles in an apologetic manner. “Seeing that this case does not include any sort of violence, you may exit the protective chamber, assuming you and the aggrieved both promise not to injure each other?”

“Of course, your honors,” Max said.

Hiratha agreed with a gesture and the door to the cage opened.

“May I speak directly to the prosec—the aggrieved?” he asked the judges after exiting the cage and stretching.

“You may speak to and question the aggrieved. This is your time to do so.”

“Hiratha of clan Ororos, can you admit this isn’t about me? You’ve never seen me before today. It’s not even about the fact I didn’t show up to meet you. You’re upset that you missed a chance to breed, because the Department of Genetics assigned you to someone that shouldn’t even be in consideration due to being a different species.” Max let his shoulders droop and softened his gaze.

“I’m very sorry you missed out on a chance to reproduce this cycle. You seem like a driven woman … uh, oraxan, and there’s bound to be a good choice for you on the next go-round. I wish you all the luck in that, and if you choose to bring a case against the Department of Genetics, I will back you all the way. What they did by matching you with me wasn’t right at all.”

Hiratha pulled her tentacles in tight. “When you didn’t show up at the appointed time to the coupling center, I thought maybe my match had seen me and run away. I know I’m not the most attractive. It wasn’t until I dug into it that I found out I’d been matched to the only human citizen of the Republic in thirty light years distance.”

“But you still chose to take me to court, to hold someone accountable for your hurt.” Max smiled at her with a sad smile. “I understand. You’re a prosecutor, so that’s what you know. We have a saying, ‘When all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.’ You just did what you know how to do.”

He straightened up. “That said, I can now see that I’ve caused you pain, though it was never my intention. Hiratha, I beg your forgiveness for my insensitivity. I’m not sure how money will heal the hurt, but 190,000 regals is far more than I make in an entire period.”

Max looked at Hiratha. “If it is amenable to you, I would like to offer my sincerest apologies in the form of a dinner at my home. Any human or oraxan dish you would like, to be prepared and served by me, using the skills I’ve acquired working in the embassy kitchen.”

The judges conferred for a moment, before the lead judge said, “We have a counteroffer of a meal. As the harm inflicted was not physical in nature, and was not inten...


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submitted 6 hours ago by bot@lemmit.online to c/hfy@lemmit.online
This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Federal_Machine692 on 2024-11-24 01:03:09+00:00.


Buster growled softly, baring his teeth at me as he stood in defiance. His stance rigid and unyielding, his tail stiff, and ears pinned back - he watched my every move with alert eyes.

My 3-year-old German shepherd had intuitively figured out the prospect of an upcoming bath when he saw me reach for the towel, and decided to give me a hard time over it.

“I know buddy. I am not happy about it either. But I will make it quick. I promise,” I tried to reason, holding up both hands to reassure him.

‘But it’s not even been a week…’ I could almost imagine him saying those exact words to me when he growled back in protest.

“You’re right...But listen, man. You’re dirty. I can feel your presence from here,” I said, standing ten feet away and pretending to cover my nostrils with my finger.

Buster, of course, didn’t care and continued to defy without hesitation.

I put my hands on my hip and sighed. My glance immediately shifted to a hose attached to a tap outside my quarters.

“Tell you what. I’ll make it worth your while. You don’t mind the jet spray, right? In fact, you even tolerate it sometimes,” I said, pointing to the hose located only a few feet away.

“How about a little cooperation now, and I’ll make you your favorite meal a little later?” I asked him, while reaching out to pick a can of chicken liver from the kitchen.

As I dangled the can in my hand, I could see it slowly chipping away at his resolve, his mind grappling with the pros and cons of my new proposal.

A moment later, Buster barked at me twice and slowly made his way out of the house. He sat by the garden tap, ready to receive his bath. 

I took a handful of lotion and began to rub it against his torso to remove all the muck and grime that was sticking to his body.  We had been quite busy lately, guarding the base and conducting multiple patrols along the perimeter every day. The rain a few hours ago certainly didn't help matters, with Buster leaping over puddles of water and actively rolling in the mud to escape the desert heat. I had to use a brush to remove the layers of dirt that had caked all over his body.

It’s been a strange week, to say the least. The days were busy but peaceful, while the nights brought scattered, random sounds. Their origins were a mystery, as they appeared not to originate from the base. But I wasn’t too worried about it, not yet anyway.

There is an air base located a couple of hours away from the facility, and it wasn’t unusual for them to conduct sorties at odd hours in the night. I assumed they were probably testing out some new technology.  

My colleague Joe thought the same thing as well. But we couldn’t take any chances, and we both had a job to do. So we conducted regular patrols around the base just as a precautionary measure.

But deep down, I felt something nagging at me, like I was being watched by someone or something. I couldn’t exactly put it into words.

For a second, I wondered if Buster too felt the same way when I saw him suddenly lift his head up, listening intently with his ears up in attention.

I quickly turned back to check if there was anybody standing behind me, but I found no one. When I turned around to face him again, I saw him looking up at the night sky, his gaze focused and unwavering.  

“What’s it buddy? You see something?” I asked him as I cleared away the foam from his face. Moments went by slowly. And then, just like that, as if nothing had happened, he put his head down and began pawing my leg, urging me to finish his bath. I sighed again and turned on the hose, to wash off all the soap.

He finally looked presentable and I have to admit, his coat glistened beautifully under the moonlight.

Before I could reach for his towel, Buster swiftly moved in to close the gap between us and looked me in the eye dead serious. He then shook his body vigorously, much like a wet dog trying to rid itself of wetness, and trotted off without bothering to look back.

I laughed out loud as I sat there, drenched in water. I knew I should have seen that coming. However, my smile quickly faded, as it also reminded me of Jessica, my ailing wife.

Before another thought could take shape in my mind, I heard a familiar voice blare across the radio.

“Mike, I need you down here. Get to the post quick.”

It was my colleague Joe and I replied back in the affirmative. I quickly grabbed my gear and signaled Buster to follow after me.

When I reached the post, I saw Joe standing there armed with his rifle. As a seasoned war veteran with two tours under his belt, Joe was a dangerous man and not to be trifled with. But he was also compassionate and wise beyond his years.

“What’s up Joe?” I inquired, as I approached him near the entrance of the base.

“I am not sure yet.  I thought I heard something at a distance. It could well be nothing.” he replied, after a brief pause.

‘Well, we’ve had a lot of that going around all week’, I thought to myself.

He then turned around to look at me. “I want you to run a perimeter sweep first. Then go on patrol again. Take Buster with you” he said, before heading back to his post.

I started the jeep and drove out towards the perimeter. The engine hummed softly as I navigated the rough terrain, with Buster sitting alertly beside me. After finding nothing suspicious during my initial sweep, I decided to broaden my search radius.

A mile into the drive, Buster suddenly started barking, prompting me to stop the jeep immediately. He leaped onto the ground and dashed towards a boulder located a short distance away. I picked up my rifle and cautiously followed after him.

When I reached the spot, I keyed the mic attached to my shirt and said, "Boss, you need to come see this."

I knew he wasn’t going to be happy about leaving the guard post unmanned, but I thought he would prefer to come and inspect this himself.

Joe arrived ten minutes later, parking his vehicle next to mine. He walked towards the boulder overlooking a small pond, and switched on his torch to get a better look at the skeletal remains of an animal dumped nearby. Three other animal remains lay next to it, all appearing to be in a similar condition.

“These look like coyotes, probably stopping by to drink water from the pond before they were killed,” he observed, his voice expressing concern. “Did you find them like this?”

“Yes”, I replied. “And they weren’t here when I drove through the same place this morning. I thought it was quite odd to be honest, to find four of them out here all at once in the middle of the desert, that too at this hour.”

Joe simply nodded in agreement.

“What sort of creature do you think did this Joe?”

“I mean it must have a ravenous appetite to chew every sinew of flesh from the bone, and lick it this clean.” I said, leaning in take another look.

“Do you think it could be the Chupacabra or something similar?” I continued, knowing fully well my question was a bit far-fetched, but I had to still get it off my chest.

Joe finally stood up, switched off his torch, and looked around the vast open desert in quiet contemplation.

“This is in fact the fifth sighting in less than a week, Mike, and all have occurred in close proximity to secure government installations. The one before this was even stranger, and happened near a military base, where an old buddy of mine continues to serve.”

“He told me in that instance, the remains belonged to a dog. There were no signs of flesh or connecting tissue from the nasal region to the abdominal section, while the region spanning from the abdominal cavity to the tail bone was left fully intact. The whole thing was carried out with surgical precision, and drew morbid praise from even the medic back at the base.”

"But how is that even possible? What are you suggesting, Joe?" I asked, surprised by the tone of my own voice and my inability to hide my disappointment upon hearing about it for the first time.

“This is not a hunt for prey, Mike. This is a hunt for attention. Somebody is trying to make a point. And I’d say they are accomplishing their objective.” Joe said.

When we got back to the base, Joe updated the command centre about the new developments. I headed back to my quarters and lay down on my bed. The exhaustion washed over me and I immediately drifted to sleep.

I looked at my Mickey Mouse watch. The time was 5:36 PM. I was licking my ice cream while sitting next to my mom in the car. To my right, was my 4 year old cousin Henry who was fast asleep on his mother’s lap.

In the front, my dad was driving the car with his brother seated next to him. Then a truck from the opposite side suddenly came in our lane, and rammed into our vehicle causing it to turn turtle.

With great difficulty, I managed to extricate myself and pulled my cousin out from the wreckage as well. And then suddenly, the car exploded and went up in flames….

I opened my eyes and realized I was still in bed. The same dream had come and gone a thousand times before. It has become a constant part of my life ever since I was a 9-year-old kid.

I slowly got off the bed and found my head hurting. I had barely slept since last night’s excitement, and my mood was already beginning to turn foul.

Buster was already awake. I gently patted him on the head as I walked into the kitchen to put a kettle of water on the boil, and turned on the TV.

My attention immediately shifted towards the news. There was a nuclear explosion in Russia in a small town that wa...


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[-] bot@lemmit.online 2 points 1 year ago

I'll get right on that. Check out !cremposting@lemmit.online!

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[-] bot@lemmit.online 2 points 1 year ago

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[-] bot@lemmit.online 2 points 1 year ago

There already is a 'coolguides' community at !coolguides@lemmit.online!

[-] bot@lemmit.online 2 points 1 year ago

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[-] bot@lemmit.online 2 points 1 year ago

I'll get right on that. Check out !giscardpunk@lemmit.online!

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[-] bot@lemmit.online 2 points 1 year ago

I'll get right on that. Check out !hobbydrama@lemmit.online!

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[-] bot@lemmit.online 2 points 1 year ago

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[-] bot@lemmit.online 2 points 1 year ago

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[-] bot@lemmit.online 2 points 1 year ago

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[-] bot@lemmit.online 2 points 1 year ago

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[-] bot@lemmit.online 2 points 1 year ago

I'll get right on that. Check out !grime@lemmit.online!

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