I basically have everything planned out already but still a gigantic work in progress, not super fleshed out and way too focused on world building so, I'm simply going to copy my rough draft here 😬 :
In the depths of Altar's Forest, two scouts walked, their hushed snickering echoing among the ancient trees.
"Who exactly are we looking for again?" the younger scout, Darak, asked with a smirk. "The king's brother? I don't get it. Isn't he a Lysandric descendant? Can't he locate him immediately?"
The other scout, grizzled and scarred from battles long past, shook his head slowly. "No. This one's smart. He knows the extent of Lysandric capabilities—where they begin and where they end. He’s far beyond Mittfolde. Likely at the edge of Angeltwine."
Darak looked back, a frown creasing his forehead. "Probably? You mean we don’t even know for sure?"
"This man rode with the king once. He and his brothers were valiant, honorable, and skillful warriors. What do you think will happen if we cross his path? We are to remain out of sight and not engage."
Darak scoffed, arrogance lacing his voice. "Please, I’m sure he’s not that tough. Those stories are from a long time ago—"
The seasoned scout cut him off sharply, pressing a dagger against Darak’s throat with lethal precision. "Now you listen to me, Darak. This is nothing like your other missions. You've been blessed with Lysandric essence—that's the only reason you're here. You can feel the ground and travel through the roots. You can see with the trees' eyes and locate those with Rift aura. You've been blessed. But Azariah, the Fallen Star, has more blessings than you."
Darak swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in as the blade's cold edge pressed against his skin.
"I’m going to retract my blade now" the scout continued, his voice a deadly whisper. "If we encounter the fugitive, you will not engage. I will not allow you to turn this mission into a suicide run."
The blade lifted, and Darak nodded, his bravado stripped away. "I’m sorry. I understand now."
The scout sheathed his curved dagger, his eyes never leaving Darak’s. "The Holy Order of Folde has marked Azariah as the one to usher in the Collapse. It’s rumored he tore open the sky ten years ago."
Darak scratched his patchy beard, sighing heavily. "I know. I remember seeing Azariah with his brothers. I was still working with my father when they were brought in. Who would've thought that they had brought in such danger..."
"I don’t believe Azariah was aware himself," the scout mused. "He was a shy boy, gifted with strange powers. But I am living proof of his might. I was General Irving of Procella, Pride’s Hand. Azariah humbled me when he took my leg, right arm, and burned half my face. I do believe he spared me. For reasons unknown..."
Irving revealed his scarred features, his blind eye glinting in the dim forest light. "One man stripped me of all titles in an instant where thousands failed in decades of war. His blackened soul snatcher, Father's Song, along with his twin daggers and shield, wielding magic from the Other Realm that he can summon and banish at will, combined with his grit, determination, and bloodthirst, I know he could have killed me. But those eyes. Those glaring white eyes... For now, the King and his armies can fend him off. But he is bound to grow stronger."
They continued their promenade, shadows lurking and drawing closer as they advanced towards Angeltwine. Darak had used an essence barrier to shield them from the Fomorlians lurking about. But the forest grew darker with every step, only the Lysandric Crystals emerging from the earth glowing faintly in the deepening gloom.
"Do you have the Adam Pass?" Irving questioned the young scout.
Darak put his hands together and separated them briefly to reveal a mark floating in midair, pulsing with his essence.
Irving nodded. "You know, Azariah is one of the few who can exit and enter Angeltwine freely. Not even the King can do so. I really do wonder about the boy sometimes. He disappeared after murdering Ezekiel, came back years later, and barely aged at all. He seemed very angry... vengeful even. I sometimes wish for a second shot at him." Energy briefly radiated around Irving, just enough for Darak to notice but purposefully ignore.
The more they advanced, the darker the forest grew. More and more crystals appeared, their luminescence intensifying with Irving’s exclamations.
Something was off, thought Darak.
Darak gazed at Irving with wild concern, sensing a madness in the old man, almost as if he longed to see Azariah again, perhaps to praise him. "Irv? What do you think of Azariah?"
Irving looked down, then up with his remaining eye, a flicker of something unspoken passing across his face. "He’s here."
Darak gasped, turning to flee, but was halted by a towering figure with long white hair, pointed elvish ears, and clear green eyes. The man loomed over Darak, who instinctively pressed his hands together to summon his essence, only for it to evaporate in an instant as the man stopped him with a mere touch of his index finger.
"Why are you here, General Irving?" Another man asked from the treetops, his voice a silken menace.
Irving laughed, discarding his robe to reveal a monstrous, bulging form. "I've come for my due, Captain. You surely owe me this!"
As the robe fell to the forest floor, Irving's body swelled grotesquely. The white-haired man grabbed Darak and leapt to a nearby tree with inhuman strength.
"Azar," he said, "Make it quick."
Azariah’s descent was as silent as death itself, his clear white eyes cold and calculating under his hood. The shadows seemingly bending around him and his Rift aura. The air grew colder, the oppressive silence of the forest intensifying.
Irving’s monstrous form shifted, muscles bulging grotesquely as he watched Azariah approach. Darak, still held in the grip of the white-haired man, trembled. His essence, once a reliable shield, had evaporated like mist before the white-haired man's touch. Could he be a guardian of Angeltwine, Darak thought.
"Azariah," Irving rumbled, his voice distorted by his transformation, "it’s been a long time. You still haven't aged, you spoiled brat!"
Azariah regarded him with a detached curiosity, as if inspecting an insect. "Irving," he replied, his voice smooth and eerily calm. "I thought I left you in a more... manageable state. You were ugly then, but now this is just embarrassing to see. You let the mages experiment on your body, didn't you? Such a proud warrior you were, now this... abomination. "
Irving chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through the forest. "You owe me, Azariah. You left me with more than scars."
Azariah’s eyes flickered with a hint of something—pity, perhaps, or regret. "I left you alive. That was a gift."
Azariah's gaze shifted to the young scout. "A child of Lysandric essence, and yet you send him to his death. How very like you, Irving. It's almost nostalgic."
Darak, sensing the tension, stammered, "This man kidnapped me, I don't know where I am!"
Azariah's stern glare sent a shiver down Darak’s spine. "No need for the lies. I know exactly why this rodent is here."
With a flick of his wrist, Azariah summoned a shimmering blade from thin air. The weapon hummed with mystical energy, its edge impossibly sharp. "I have no quarrel with you, boy," he said softly.
Irving snarled, stepping forward. "Don't you dare ignore me, Azariah. Leaving me alive was an insult!"
Azariah’s eyes narrowed, the temperature plummeting further.
In a blur of motion, Azariah moved. His blade sang through the air, slicing cleanly through the monstrous figure's arm. The severed limb fell to the forest floor, blood spurting from the stump. The figure howled in pain.
Irving, clutching his wound, glared at Azariah with murderous intent. His painful scream faded, and he slowly started grinning deviously once more. The wound was already healing, and his arm was growing back.
Azariah’s expression remained impassive, as if it was expected of Irving's new body.
Half of Irving's body was gigantic, hairy, with clawed hands and feet, sharp teeth, and his blind eye had a cat-like slit. His "human" half was beginning to die. The experimentation the mages put him through and the contact with the Lysandric Crystals were igniting the transformation.
"Sil," Azar addressed the white-haired man. "I doubt he can be reasoned with any longer."
Sil, or Sylvaeth as his full name was, put another finger up and froze Darak in his place. "I believe I may be able to separate the two forms." Sylvaeth summoned a grey scepter with aura pulsating from the endpoint.
Irving's human half was beginning to cry and scream, begging for help, not wanting to die this way. The monstrous half was laughing at Irving, seemingly wishing to attack him for his pathetic demeanor.
Sil locked in and chanted in a foreign language. " Sa nayar, Ot! " and the enchantment struck Irving, pulling the two forms apart. Irving's mangled body was lunged to Azar's feet. He grabbed him and threw him to Sil. Sil grabbed Irving using his aura and brought him to the tree branch with Darak and himself.
"Now, you may dismantle the monster to your liking."
The tussle had attracted the Fomorlians, demonic creatures that lurked in the forest and fed off the Lysandric Crystals' light. They started howling and spectating the battle.
Azariah turned to face the creature that had detached from Irving. Another arm and leg grew from the remaining side. It started cracking its limbs, neck, and let out a large exhale.
"Azariah, it's a pleasure to meet you." The body started to slim down into a more athletic, feminine humanoid figure. Dark fur, clawed hands, akin to a vampiric werewolf with two faces.
"I was wondering who they had conjured up in Irving's body. Belphie, twin Goddess of the Succubi."
She let out an evil, lustful laugh. "Oh Azar, your bloodlust is making me horny."
Azariah’s white eyes glinted with a mixture of disdain and readiness. "Belphie, you're no more than an expensive whore. "
Belphie’s twin faces twisted into a mocking smile. "Come then, Fallen Star. Let us see if you can handle a goddess."
I'm at a loss

So, I'm simply going to copy my rough draft here 😬 :
In the depths of Altar's Forest, two scouts walked, their hushed snickering echoing among the ancient trees.
"Who exactly are we looking for again?" the younger scout, Darak, asked with a smirk. "The king's brother? I don't get it. Isn't he a Lysandric descendant? Can't he locate him immediately?"
The other scout, grizzled and scarred from battles long past, shook his head slowly. "No. This one's smart. He knows the extent of Lysandric capabilities—where they begin and where they end. He’s far beyond Mittfolde. Likely at the edge of Angeltwine."
Darak looked back, a frown creasing his forehead. "Probably? You mean we don’t even know for sure?"
"This man rode with the king once. He and his brothers were valiant, honorable, and skillful warriors. What do you think will happen if we cross his path? We are to remain out of sight and not engage."
Darak scoffed, arrogance lacing his voice. "Please, I’m sure he’s not that tough. Those stories are from a long time ago—"
The seasoned scout cut him off sharply, pressing a dagger against Darak’s throat with lethal precision. "Now you listen to me, Darak. This is nothing like your other missions. You've been blessed with Lysandric essence—that's the only reason you're here. You can feel the ground and travel through the roots. You can see with the trees' eyes and locate those with Rift aura. You've been blessed. But Azariah, the Fallen Star, has more blessings than you."
Darak swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in as the blade's cold edge pressed against his skin.
"I’m going to retract my blade now" the scout continued, his voice a deadly whisper. "If we encounter the fugitive, you will not engage. I will not allow you to turn this mission into a suicide run."
The blade lifted, and Darak nodded, his bravado stripped away. "I’m sorry. I understand now."
The scout sheathed his curved dagger, his eyes never leaving Darak’s. "The Holy Order of Folde has marked Azariah as the one to usher in the Collapse. It’s rumored he tore open the sky ten years ago."
Darak scratched his patchy beard, sighing heavily. "I know. I remember seeing Azariah with his brothers. I was still working with my father when they were brought in. Who would've thought that they had brought in such danger..."
"I don’t believe Azariah was aware himself," the scout mused. "He was a shy boy, gifted with strange powers. But I am living proof of his might. I was General Irving of Procella, Pride’s Hand. Azariah humbled me when he took my leg, right arm, and burned half my face. I do believe he spared me. For reasons unknown..."
Irving revealed his scarred features, his blind eye glinting in the dim forest light. "One man stripped me of all titles in an instant where thousands failed in decades of war. His blackened soul snatcher, Father's Song, along with his twin daggers and shield, wielding magic from the Other Realm that he can summon and banish at will, combined with his grit, determination, and bloodthirst, I know he could have killed me. But those eyes. Those glaring white eyes... For now, the King and his armies can fend him off. But he is bound to grow stronger."
They continued their promenade, shadows lurking and drawing closer as they advanced towards Angeltwine. Darak had used an essence barrier to shield them from the Fomorlians lurking about. But the forest grew darker with every step, only the Lysandric Crystals emerging from the earth glowing faintly in the deepening gloom.
"Do you have the Adam Pass?" Irving questioned the young scout.
Darak put his hands together and separated them briefly to reveal a mark floating in midair, pulsing with his essence.
Irving nodded. "You know, Azariah is one of the few who can exit and enter Angeltwine freely. Not even the King can do so. I really do wonder about the boy sometimes. He disappeared after murdering Ezekiel, came back years later, and barely aged at all. He seemed very angry... vengeful even. I sometimes wish for a second shot at him." Energy briefly radiated around Irving, just enough for Darak to notice but purposefully ignore.
The more they advanced, the darker the forest grew. More and more crystals appeared, their luminescence intensifying with Irving’s exclamations.
Something was off, thought Darak.
Darak gazed at Irving with wild concern, sensing a madness in the old man, almost as if he longed to see Azariah again, perhaps to praise him. "Irv? What do you think of Azariah?"
Irving looked down, then up with his remaining eye, a flicker of something unspoken passing across his face. "He’s here."
Darak gasped, turning to flee, but was halted by a towering figure with long white hair, pointed elvish ears, and clear green eyes. The man loomed over Darak, who instinctively pressed his hands together to summon his essence, only for it to evaporate in an instant as the man stopped him with a mere touch of his index finger.
"Why are you here, General Irving?" Another man asked from the treetops, his voice a silken menace.
Irving laughed, discarding his robe to reveal a monstrous, bulging form. "I've come for my due, Captain. You surely owe me this!"
As the robe fell to the forest floor, Irving's body swelled grotesquely. The white-haired man grabbed Darak and leapt to a nearby tree with inhuman strength.
"Azar," he said, "Make it quick."
Azariah’s descent was as silent as death itself, his clear white eyes cold and calculating under his hood. The shadows seemingly bending around him and his Rift aura. The air grew colder, the oppressive silence of the forest intensifying.
Irving’s monstrous form shifted, muscles bulging grotesquely as he watched Azariah approach. Darak, still held in the grip of the white-haired man, trembled. His essence, once a reliable shield, had evaporated like mist before the white-haired man's touch. Could he be a guardian of Angeltwine, Darak thought.
"Azariah," Irving rumbled, his voice distorted by his transformation, "it’s been a long time. You still haven't aged, you spoiled brat!"
Azariah regarded him with a detached curiosity, as if inspecting an insect. "Irving," he replied, his voice smooth and eerily calm. "I thought I left you in a more... manageable state. You were ugly then, but now this is just embarrassing to see. You let the mages experiment on your body, didn't you? Such a proud warrior you were, now this... abomination. "
Irving chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through the forest. "You owe me, Azariah. You left me with more than scars."
Azariah’s eyes flickered with a hint of something—pity, perhaps, or regret. "I left you alive. That was a gift."
Azariah's gaze shifted to the young scout. "A child of Lysandric essence, and yet you send him to his death. How very like you, Irving. It's almost nostalgic."
Darak, sensing the tension, stammered, "This man kidnapped me, I don't know where I am!"
Azariah's stern glare sent a shiver down Darak’s spine. "No need for the lies. I know exactly why this rodent is here."
With a flick of his wrist, Azariah summoned a shimmering blade from thin air. The weapon hummed with mystical energy, its edge impossibly sharp. "I have no quarrel with you, boy," he said softly.
Irving snarled, stepping forward. "Don't you dare ignore me, Azariah. Leaving me alive was an insult!"
Azariah’s eyes narrowed, the temperature plummeting further.
In a blur of motion, Azariah moved. His blade sang through the air, slicing cleanly through the monstrous figure's arm. The severed limb fell to the forest floor, blood spurting from the stump. The figure howled in pain.
Irving, clutching his wound, glared at Azariah with murderous intent. His painful scream faded, and he slowly started grinning deviously once more. The wound was already healing, and his arm was growing back.
Azariah’s expression remained impassive, as if it was expected of Irving's new body.
Half of Irving's body was gigantic, hairy, with clawed hands and feet, sharp teeth, and his blind eye had a cat-like slit. His "human" half was beginning to die. The experimentation the mages put him through and the contact with the Lysandric Crystals were igniting the transformation.
"Sil," Azar addressed the white-haired man. "I doubt he can be reasoned with any longer."
Sil, or Sylvaeth as his full name was, put another finger up and froze Darak in his place. "I believe I may be able to separate the two forms." Sylvaeth summoned a grey scepter with aura pulsating from the endpoint.
Irving's human half was beginning to cry and scream, begging for help, not wanting to die this way. The monstrous half was laughing at Irving, seemingly wishing to attack him for his pathetic demeanor.
Sil locked in and chanted in a foreign language. " Sa nayar, Ot! " and the enchantment struck Irving, pulling the two forms apart. Irving's mangled body was lunged to Azar's feet. He grabbed him and threw him to Sil. Sil grabbed Irving using his aura and brought him to the tree branch with Darak and himself.
"Now, you may dismantle the monster to your liking."
The tussle had attracted the Fomorlians, demonic creatures that lurked in the forest and fed off the Lysandric Crystals' light. They started howling and spectating the battle.
Azariah turned to face the creature that had detached from Irving. Another arm and leg grew from the remaining side. It started cracking its limbs, neck, and let out a large exhale.
"Azariah, it's a pleasure to meet you." The body started to slim down into a more athletic, feminine humanoid figure. Dark fur, clawed hands, akin to a vampiric werewolf with two faces.
"I was wondering who they had conjured up in Irving's body. Belphie, twin Goddess of the Succubi."
She let out an evil, lustful laugh. "Oh Azar, your bloodlust is making me horny."
Azariah’s white eyes glinted with a mixture of disdain and readiness. "Belphie, you're no more than an expensive whore. "
Belphie’s twin faces twisted into a mocking smile. "Come then, Fallen Star. Let us see if you can handle a goddess."
I'm at a loss, feel free to comment or DM

https://x.com/chiefs/status/1792934743119474979?s=46
For all the people giving this guy credit, actually making him a hero for “supporting his wife” by hailing her “after two babies”, manufactured body. It would have been more of a revelation if he had embraced the miracle of her natural body for the amazing ability to produce life. THAT would have been groundbreaking. EPIC. Nope. He’s running around with the “dad bod” and now, people are calling him the new “athletic”. Praising his belly bulge body as the new gold standard for QB1. This man is 28 yrs old! Yet, it could be said that he appears to be perpetuating an archaic ideal of the role of women-the pressure to “not just let herself go” or risk losing her man. Perhaps they should have a SI Swimsuit -Men’s Edition-Speedos. Then she can stand there on the red carpet and be proud of that. If we choose to sexualize and objectify men in the same manner, how would all the “supportive husbands” rank? Butkner, anyone?!

Lower back Pain
I am a 23 year old male, and former college athlete. I have recently started a 9-5 job where I am pretty much desk bound all day. I typically like to spend my free time, lifting, running, and playing basketball. Unfortunately this has become extremely difficult recently as I have a developed some lower back issues.
I was originally diagnosed with a lumbar strain. After receiving an MRI it was brought to my attention that I have a bulging L4-L5 disc that collides with my sciatic nerve root causing me pain every time I sit down.
I have been doing physical therapy as well as seeing local specialists in the area. So far none of recommend surgery and all have prescribed some type of pain medication to help cope with the symptoms as well as avoiding high impact activities. I have been in talks about possibly receiving an epidural injection but I am still unsure if that is the best course of action.
Are there any other young athletes out there (20s to 30s) that have a similar experience to share? If so, what did you do to get better and return to activities/ sports? How long were you out for?

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

I am a manager of a small retail store, and there is a cute 19 year old strawberry blonde, with an athletic figure, and a pair of D's. We have been working together for almost a year, and have gotten real close. We talk to each other about everything, no topic is off limits.
Over time our interactions had gotten more physical, a playful shove here, an embrace there, some shoulder massages. Our shifts together had become the highlight of my week.
Until at the end of one shift, I got a little too bold and after one of our hugs, I squeezed a cheek. She was not happy about it, I didn't realize how much it upset her until our next shift together, when she was still polite and spoke with me, but made it clear she didn't want me to touch her in anyway. I apologized to her, and felt sincerely bad that I had upset her or violated her in anyway.
She accepted my apology and I made a conscious effort to keep my hands to myself. I thought things would be awkward going forward, but things were great and strangely enough I noticed that she began to initiate the physical contact.
She would press her body against mine, rest her head on my shoulder until I would bring her in for an embrace. She would ask for a neck rub, and in doing so I would massage all down her back, and I would stand so close I know she could feel my bulge resting on her ass. She hasn't complained since, but if I'm the one who initiates it, or if she feels my hand getting to low she puts a stop it.
What really blew my mind, was the other day she came in and was adjusting her bra. She said the padding on her new bra felt too thick and was bothering her, and asked me to feel if it felt too padded. So I grabbed her titty and squeezed, and we went on with our day.
TL:DR - She likes when I touch her, but as long as we pretend it's not in a sexual manner

Hello, I am a 27F who was previously very athletic and into heavy weightlifting. Symptoms started in 2021 and fast forward to now and I can’t weight lift, can barely do my work so relying mainly on my partner, and basically feeling like I’m falling apart.
Family history

• Grandmother has severe RA

Medicines:

• Norethindrone birth control, imitrex/sumatriptan, Allegra, just started taking quercetin, tumeric, vitamin D + K, and magnesium. Was on 40mg of prednisone for about a month and recently finished a fast taper last week.

Prior to 2021

• Always had some form of feeling sick when stressed, grandma with RA said she faced similar symptoms when she was younger
• Dealt with radiating pain in right leg (pinched nerve feeling), low back pain here and there which I thought was due to weak erector spinae and imbalance due to scoliosis because once I started weight training back aching went away

2021

• May: Overworked at job and developed severe debilating joint pain. Couldn’t even lift 10lbs and starting limping because knee was hurting so badly. Saw a primary care who ran blood tests (C reactive, RF, and anti-ccp) all came back normal so the doc brushed it off thinking it was just my body’s response to stress and because I’m young I’m probably fine. Quit my job and 3 months later went back to feeling normal. Took x-rays of knees, hips and shoulders. Sports medicine doc said knees showed some wear and tear, shoulder showed more wear and tear from overuse injury and called it osteoarthritis in the shoulders, hips were slightly uneven but nothing too remarkable
• Nov: got COVID that resulted in lost of smell and taste, hair loss, pretty bad brain fog, etc.

2022

• July: Covid again, but mild and still have memory issues
• August: Joint pain and feeling of overtraining without working out started appearing (would appear in cycles/phases where I would suddenly not be able to workout and then be fine for a month then back to not feeling well for the rest of 2022)
• Sudden major mood swings (which later found out linked to high cortisol levels), migraines becoming more frequent but still manageable, increased heart rate randomly while at rest, frequent dizzy spells (I would need to sit down sometimes) but always felt like in some form of lightheaded or dizzy state and just learned to adjust as my new “normal”
• Nov- Jan (’23) Severe unknown respiratory virus that lead to bell’s palsy (recovered now), found enlarged pituitary on MRI when looking at the bells palsy as well as herniated disc with nerve compression in neck (which now explained the constant pain in shoulders on top of overuse injury)
• Sometime in 2022 I started having some back pain but it was different than what I’d previously experienced. Pain in shoulders started flaring again as well

2023

• Jan-March: Tested high on cortisol multiple times and high ACTH once, looked into Cushing’s diagnosis from here until Feb 2024
• May: Covid pretty bad for a third time. I had a high fever, severe body aches, etc. Saw Endoniologist but was moving so they advised I continued care at my next location
• June/July: started to feel better and hoped it was just my body recovering from the 4 viruses
• September: symptoms appeared again, migraine frequency now increasing to a couple times a month
• Oct: overtraining feeling getting worse, at this point I was not working out as often due to the previous times I wasn’t feeling good I adjusted my training to only a few times a week if that.
• December: Migraine has increased to once a week, did not experience any period of feeling better like I did in 2022 where I had phases of feeling better.
  • Saw a new sports medicine doctor for radiating leg pain. Also noted I was feeling spine pain (not muscle but pain in my spine). X-ray didn’t show much so they ordered an MRI and found “L5-S1 mild degenerative disc diseases with small left suarticular zone/foraminal disc protrusion without nerve root compression” even though it stated no nerve compression the doc believed it was still most likely the cause of my leg pain and did a steroid injection in the SI joint which helped for a month but couldn’t explain some of the spine pain I was having. MRI also found “mild joint arthropathy” in L3-L4, “mild hypertrophic facet joint arthropathy” in L4-L5, “left subarticular zone disc protrusion with left foramina extension superimposed on mild diffuse disc bulge. Mild narrowing of the left lateral recess. Mild facet joint arthropathy” in L5-S1.

2024

• Jan: Migraines increase to 2-3 times a week so started on triptans as doc thought it was the same migraines not fully going away. First triptan didn’t really work so started a second one (sumatriptan) and migraine would still last for 2 days (took one pill first day and would help but next day still lingered so would take a second dose and then it would go away). Working out has now changed to be bare minimum (light weight machines)
• Feb: Tested high cortisol again on blood (42, end limit 19), and one salivary cortisol came back high, low vitamin D and increased A1C from October. Referred to endocrinologist again. Endocrinologist PA said severity of symptoms wouldn’t be cushings. Did a dexamethasone test which came back normal and suggested I see Rheumatologist for possible seronegative RA (I didn’t tell the endocrinologist about my previous RA check so when they mentioned if I had heard of RA and I told them I tried testing and it came back negative they then told me about seronegative RA)
• March: Joint symptoms and feeling of overtraining severely increased. Stopped being able to lift weights including machines. Tried to still play volleyball but can barely play. Joint pain now prominent in fingers, wrist and elbows, on top of knees and shoulder pain. Low spine very noticeably in pain. (Not muscular pain, literally pain on the spine). Morning stiffness has increased, back would sometimes feel “stuck” and fingers would ache pretty bad. Weather was also very cold and snowing while randomly switching to 70s and back to snowing which did not help. Migraines calmed down to 2 times a month.
• April: Saw NP at rheumatology who ordered tests and leaning towards RA or AS, more so AS. Placed on high dose of prednisone. Started with 20mg but didn’t help so increased to 40mg which helped (not completely but did notice a difference). On prednisone for about a month (into May). NP took x-rays of hands, hip and feet and said they looked normal. Ordered blood tests which got delayed a month (just received them will note below)
• May/now: Just finished prednisone (was a fast taper from 40 to 30, 20,10,5,5,5) and feeling the pain in my back come back as well as my fingers, elbows, etc. Migraine also came back a lot worse, had a three day long strong migraine that didn’t respond to sumatriptan and had to go to urgent care for a shot. The shot got rid of the migraine for a few days but feeling another one coming back less than a week later.
  • Got MRI with contrast of the pelvic and found “mild pubic symphyseal arthritis with osteophytic ridging and mild degenerative marrow signal change” and again the L5-S1 spondylosis
  • Due to the messed up labs, I had to get my blood drawn for these test while on 40mg on predinose. These were the notable results: High white blood cell count (11.8 x10 3/UL, reference range 3.8-10.8 x 10 3/UL), Low neutrophils (32%, reference range 42-75%), High lymphocytes (65%, reference range 16-52%), High lympocytes (7.7 x 10 3/UL, reference range 1.2-3.4 x 10 3/UL), Low Carbon Dioxide level (23 nmol/L, reference range 24-33 nmol/L). Rheumatoid factor was normal ( <9 IU/ml, reference range 0-12 IU/ml), C-reactive protein extended range was normal (<0.03 mg/dL, reference range 0-0.5 mg/dL). Erythrocyte sedimentation rate normal (4 mm/Hr, reference range 0-19 mm/Hr). Anti-CCP normal (<16 units, reference range <20 negative). My anti-ccp in 2021 was 3 so while it’s still within normal range it did increase. Hep A antibody abnormal (reactive, however I’m pretty sure I received the Hep A vaccine). I also came back negative for the AS gene.
  • I feel like having my tests done while on 40mg of prednisone affected my results in a negative way but I’m not sure if it actually affects them or not

Any insights are greatly appreciated as my symptoms are getting noticeably worse with no answers.

Title explanation: Kaden kicked Kyson in the left knee. He went to urgent care and there is no break it is just a bone bruise. it will take 4-6 weeks to heal 90%. The doctor also confirmed that Kyson has osgood schlatter disease. Lilia will be leaving on her 8th grade trip to Washington DC in 2 weeks.
They are playing hooky today from school. They are headed to urgent care. There is just something in the stars. Their family has just been going through the wringer. Between Mango, Lilia with her hives and now Kyson with his knee. Jess threw her back out when she was painting. (i never realized before how chopped up her videos are with the editing. She is all over the place and she doesn’t finish a sentence before moving on to the next thought.) She has a back injury that she has had for a long time that showed up in her prenuvo scan. She has a bulging disc in her back. It always hurts but Jess painted and now it is excruciating. Yesterday Kyson was playing on the trampoline and Kaden accidentally kicked Kyson’s knee. Kyson is a competitive soccer player. His left knee has been injured in the past. Jess showed a video of a kid kicking Kyson’s knee in one of her tiktoks. His left knee keeps getting more and more injured and they are pretty sure he has osgood schlatter disease. This disease is a common thing to have when you are a competitive soccer player and growing. It is basically that you are growing too fast and your ligaments can't keep up. It is something Kyson will grow out of. Kyson does have ongoing knee pain. Last night the same knee got kicked. His knee immediately puffed up and is so swollen. Jess has never seen a knee this swollen. They are headed to urgent care.
Kyson’s ligaments seem fine. The doctor was amazing and super incredible. The doctor confirmed that Kyson does have osgood schlatter disease. The disease is the reason for the knee pain. The doctor got opinions from sports medicine doctors. Kyson got an x-ray done. The doctor will call if anything comes up on the x-ray. It is a contusion which is a bone bruise. That is why the knee is swollen. The doctor said it will take 4-6 weeks to heal 90%. 90-100% is a bit more difficult to heal from that point. The doctor does not recommend that Kyson play in his last game but to let pain be the guide. The only downside to playing the game is that it will reset the healing clock. If Kyson is not hurting they can consider it but if he is hurting then don’t try it. Mimi is hearing if you need to play the last game play it and then don’t do x y and z for 4-6 weeks. Jess didn’t ask about practice. Jess will ask about practices when the doctor calls about the results. (I bet you that they will make Kyson do practice and play the game then do 4-6 weeks of healing.) They will see what the x-ray says but the doctor doesn't think that it is a break. They said in 10-14 days if it gets worse to reach out and they will get Kyson physical therapy through sports medicine. The doctor said that the sports medicine doctors at the facility care for the kings players.
They are having much needed one on one time with the kids. The rest of the kids are still in school. Jess is making Kyson’s favorite chicken and rice.
Jess is picking Lilia up from school a little bit late. Lilia had a meeting after school. Lilia is going on her 8th grade trip to Washington DC in 2 weeks. 2 weeks is how long there is left of school. Jess didn’t realize how soon that was coming. The day of Lilia’s last day of school she leaves with her classmates and teachers to go to Washington DC. There is a student meeting today and a parent meeting next week. Jess has a checklist of things to get Lilia. Lilia needs a certain debit card to use while she is away. It is stressful. Lilia has traveled alone twice; however, it was just to disneyland. There were two times when she flew alone. Tommy and Caden have also flown alone. Lilia has never flown alone this far. They live in California and Washington DC is across the country. Jess is nervous but excited for Lilia. Lilia is excited that she is going with her friends. Sending Lilia across the nation is stressful. Jess has so much to do today. Urgent care really set back her day. Jess has so many things she needs to accomplish. Mothers day is in a few days and Jess has so many things in store even though she is a mother and should be chilling. Jess wants to have a barbeque and make it cute. Jess wants it pink themed and wants to set it up before mothers day. It will be gorgeous weather and hot on mothers day. They are going to have their first pool day of the season. Jess is excited for it and here for the beautiful weather. Jess has to get ready for that. Jess also needs to post a video today. She has been back on her youtube schedule for the most part. Now that Jess is on 3 platforms full time it is harder to stick to her every other day posting schedule. On tiktok she tries to post every day or every other day. That is also a fulltime job like youtube. Jess essentially has 2 full time jobs. Jess also posts it all to instagram. Jess tries to stick to her every other day schedule and has been doing pretty good. If not every other day, she tries to do it every 3 days. She is also posting on a platform every day. Jess is trying to make youtube more regular and more consistent. She has been doing all right every 2-3 days.
Lilia can only bring 1 small suitcase and a carryon backpack. They can't bring any liquids. They are also going to New york. On the first day they are going to get right off the plane and straight to doing things after their red eye flight. They can only use their phones for photos and no social media. They do have to bring a phone. They are not allowed to go to the last day of school. They are to stay home that day and pack. Jess is scared and doesn’t want Lilia to go without her. Jess wants constant updates. Lilia doesn’t know if she is allowed to send Jess pictures. They are allowed to use their phones to take pictures and contact your chaperone. They can only contact their parents if it is necessary. Jess at least wants Lilia to text at the end of the night. They are going to see outsiders the musical. Lilia is going to take a lot of photos because that is her only excuse to be on her phone.
Jess dropped Lilia off and is picking up Addie to go to cheer. It is a jump class. There are fly classes, jump classes and tumbling classes. Today is a jump class. Addie has not done this class yet. Jess has been living in the tesla today. There was a hit and run on their property. Someone took out their mailbox yesterday. They got it on camera. They couldn’t see the actual act of it but they could tell which car hit their mailbox and wiped it out completely. The car didn’t say anything and just kept right on going. It took out their side view mirror. That was a little scary.
Addie loved the class. It was Addie’s first time doing the class. It is crazy to Jess watching her child fall in love with something on her own. Cheer is Addies’ own passion. Addie was a dancer for the last few years and she did like it but didn’t love it. Addie is loving her new sport. The same thing happened with the boys and soccer. Jess doesn’t know anything about soccer and the boys absolutely love it. (Maybe the reason why her kids love doing sports that Jess has no experience with is because they are tired of Jess comparing their accomplishments to hers.) Jess loves watching her kids fall in love with things they want to do. Kyson’s doctor called back and confirmed that there are no breaks and that he does have osgood schlatter’s disease. Jess learned that there are alot of people that have this disease. Most of the time it is something that is grown out of. It is a disease that happens in young athletes.

Today I am 7 days sober.
I am 29M and got drunk for the first time when I was about 13-14. Even though I was an athletic kid and did sports, I drank heavy at parties throughout my high school years like a lot of teens do. The alcohol consumption definitely got heavy when I graduated and lived on my own.
Drank pretty heavy and partied from 18-21. I moved away to Cali when I turned 21 and cut back at first but started back drinking heavy.
I have had a few sobriety stints since. The longest being a year (June 2021-2022). Mainly because I started to develop pain in my back, abdomen, and around my sides. I started to panic about liver failure, cancer, and all the horrible stuff that comes with alcoholism.
I had about a 2 year period where I went to the ER 7-8 times and was CERTAIN that I permanently damaged myself but every time they would tell me nothing is wrong, even though I felt something constantly gnawing at my back and right side of my body (neck down to back of right leg). It was so hard to tell what was actually wrong with me though… I’ve had 2 bulging discs for a while (since 2021). One in my neck that causes right arm pain / tingling, and one in my lower back that causes sciatica in my right leg. This was all confirmed and diagnosed by a doctor btw. The “worst” thing they told me that entire time going to the ER’s… was when I was 26-27. The doctor said all of my organs looked fine on CT scans and ultrasound. My bloodwork was good… BUT I did an endoscopy and did have mild gastritis along with GERD after binge drinking.
When I quit drinking for that year. It took some months for the fatigue and anxiety to go away… and another few months for the pain to be completely gone.
Sadly… My mother (48) was just diagnosed with stage 3/4 cancer of the pancreas, liver, and kidneys a few days ago. She used to be a very heavy drinker but stopped a few years ago when she started facing a bunch of mental issues. She has ALWAYS been a cigarette smoker though. This whole situation has me devastated and scared all over again.
7 days sober again… and I get so worried because I can never tell what this pain is and I’m trying to be strong for my mother right now. Maybe it’s just inflammation from drinking before? I know the body takes a minute to heal after drinking. Is it my bulging discs that are causing the pain in my right shoulder, side, hip, and leg? Is it my pancreas/liver too?
Soo much anxiety. I can’t wait to continue this journey, because I know last time was so much worth it after that year of sobriety. I pray that I have another chance to make this right and recover again. I plan on seeing a doctor to be safe, but won’t be able to for awhile because of everything happening with my Mom right now.
Any words of encouragement, advice, or wisdom would be greatly appreciated. Thanks.

6"4, 30 years old. Have always been athletic and can dunk easily, but recently had a disc bulge in my L5. 2 months post injury and I can't even run yet (let alone jump)… depressing times.
Looking for some light at the end of the tunnel - something to keep me motivated in my rehab.
Cheers

Hey all! I’ve been trying out a few different options for soft tucking (i.e. flattening out the crotch for people who have a penis and testicles but don’t want them to be visible in tight clothing, without using tape or pushing the testicles into the inguinal canal).
My primary use case is wearing leggings for exercise, particularly martial arts training including Muay Thai and BJJ. I want my solution to be cheap and washable, so no single use items like menstrual pads.

About me

I'm a size M in most underwear, or a 12-14 AU in bottoms. I'm slightly fat, and moderately athletic. Trans-fem, about 1 year on HRT. Have a waist slightly narrower than my hips, and mild pelvic tilt.

Reviews

Nala

Everybody Tuck Brief

I won't spent too much time on these because they've been covered more, but they're my base layer for everything and everyday underwear. Under slightly less tight clothing they're great, and my only complaint is that the gusset is still not quite wide enough for me and my testicles like to escape if I'm wearing short shorts.
Not enough compression on their own to wear under tights without having an obvious bulge.

Everybody Tuck Gee

I was excited to try this one, but found the g-string part uncomfortable between my butt cheeks. For more money but more comfort, I prefer the Urbody equivalent, but that fails the "cheap" requirement. Effectiveness is about the same as the Tuck Brief above.

Uniqlo

AIRism Body Shaper Non-Lined Half Briefs (Smooth)

On their own, they're not enough. However, on top of the Nala Everybody Tuck Brief, after exprimenting a bit with the angle, these do a good enough job to totally hide my genital configuration under a pair of tights! I've tested with both black leggings of various thicknesses, and bright pink sparkly ones. Also great under a bodycon dress or skirt.
Wearing high-waisted tights, they don't roll down, and don't add a visible seam at the top. Wearing anything less tight at the waist, they roll down on me when I sit and stand, but the tuck still holds.
The cons are:

• they're pretty tight to get on and off,
• add slight (but not really noticeable tbh) warmth because of the extra layer,
• (this may be a pro or a con depending on the look you want) also compress the stomach and upper thighs,
• are too long to be invisible under short shorts or a micro miniskirt. Could probably be solved by cutting them shorter.

AIRism Body Shaper Non-Lined Half Briefs (Support)

Pretty much the same as above, except that they do add a seam under tights at the waist, but don't roll down with looser clother.

Kmart

Period Full Briefs

I tried these because they've been recommended on Reddit a bunch. They do help flatten a bit, but with a thicker front rather than much compression. I don't like them and find them a bit uncomfortable, but serviceable for cheap. Not sufficient under tights. I haven't tried the classic solution yet of cutting a bra pad to size and slipping it in, though!

Conclusion

For me, wearing any kind of compression tucking underwear under the Uniqlo AIRism Body Shaper has been a game changer, and cheap! The Nala underwear are $25 each and good for wearing under anything, and the Uniqlo shaper is $19 each and the two varieties cover me for most high-waisted clothing (or if I'm wearing a top that doesn't reveal midriff).
I haven't solved the problem of short shorts (testicle slip, lol) for myself yet, but might try cutting a Uniqlo shaper shorter at some point.
Please share your experiences with these or other products!

It's been a while since I've posted some homebrew content, but my group was taking a break from 40k and there's only so many hours in the week. But it seems these posts have actually helped out a few groups with their games and that's all I really wanted from these. So we'll continue with an often forgotten element of the setting, the beastmen.
I've GM'd a few WFRP 2e campaigns back in ye olden days, so translating beastmen to 40k was quite fun. As far as I can tell, lore on them has been rather sparse so I statted these guys out as essentially fantasy beastmen with guns. Their equipment level is comparable to the lost and the damned, with ungors being as well equipped as mutant partisans, gors being around traitor militia level, and bestigors having their pick of the loot.
If you want imperial beastmen I would just depict them without mutations and possibly give them access to lasguns, lascarbines, and laspistols. Lucky ones might get guard flak armor.
Edit: Fixed a typo for the minotaur's agility. They are no longer faster than eldar.
Ungor (Minion)
The lowest of the beastmen, ungors serve as workers, foot soldiers, and resentful victims of beastman society. No larger than a human, ungors have bestial faces, the legs of a goat, and short pronghorns, many little more than buds. Indeed their horns aren't recognisable as similar to any animal, something that serves as a source of mistrust and contempt by larger beastmen. Yet ungors are more nimble than their larger kin, making them dangerous skirmishers when underestimated.
Those unfortunate enough to have no horns at all are known as brays (not to be confused with bray shamans) and are regarded as the untouchables of beastmen society. On the opposite end of the spectrum, some ungors grow horns comparable to gors despite lacking their size and strength. These halfhorns often lead groups of ungors as scouts or raiders. Otherwise ungors often serve as cannon fodder like so many cultists and mutants.

WS	BS	S	T	Ag	Int	Per	Wp	Fel
30	32	35	35	41	26	34	26	26

​

Head	L-Arm	R-Arm	Body	L-Legs	R-Legs
1-10	11-20	21-30	31-70	71-85	86-100
3	5	5	5	3	3

Movement: 6/12/18/36 Wounds: 10
Armour: Hard Leathers (2 Arms/Chest) Total TB: 3
Skills: Athletics (Str), Awareness (Per), Intimidate (Str), Stealth (Ag), Survival (Per)
Talents: Hardy
Traits: Forest Kith, Low Light Vision, Primal Fury, Unnatural Speed (2)
Forest Kith: The character counts forests as open terrain. When in forests they also have a +20 bonus on Survival tests.
Primal Fury: At the start of combat the character may make an Ordinary (+10) Willpower test, if successful they immediately enter Frenzy. If the character has the Command skill they may instead make an Ordinary (+10) Command test, if successful they and all friendly characters with Primal Fury in Command range may immediately enter Frenzy.
Children of Chaos: The character has a 50% chance of having 1d5-1 mutations.
Weapons (Choose one melee weapon and sidearm or one ranged weapon)

• Sword: (Melee; Damage: 1d10+3 R; Balanced)
• Spear: (Melee; Damage: 1d10+3 R; Primitive [8], Reach [1], Throwing [10m])
• Trench Club (Melee; 1d10+3 R; Pen 0; Primitive [8])
• Axe: (Melee; Damage: 1d10+4 R; Unbalanced)
• Stub Automatic (Pistol; 30m; S/3/-; 1d10+3 I; Pen 0; Clip 9; Reload Full)
• Stub Revolver (Pistol; 30m; S/-/-; 1d10+3 I; Pen 0; Clip 6; Reload 2 Full)
• Hunting Rifle (Basic; 150m; S/-/-; 1d10+3 I; Pen 0; Clip 5; Reload Full; Accurate)
• Shotgun (Basic; 30m; S/–/–; 1d10+4 I; Pen 0; Clip 8; Reload 2 Full)

Brays: -5 Strength/Toughness/Fellowship, automatically gains 1d5-1 mutations on top of Children of Chaos.
Half Horns: +2 Wounds, +5 Fellowship/Willpower, Command +0. Wields an autopistol or autogun as its ranged weapon and wears a flak cloak.
Gear: 2 reloads for primary weapon, chaos icon, ritual knife.
Gor (Minion)
The 'true' beastmen, these creatures often stand a head taller than a grown man and most commonly display the heads and legs of goats with the hairy arms and chest of a human. Even then they often grow sharp claws and canine fangs when they don't show altogether more bizarre mutations from warp corruption. Deer, rams, cattle, and horse features are also encountered among beastmen, though all bear horns of some kind or they are no gor at all. Gors are noticeably stronger and tougher than humans, though they are also impatient and beligerent, often relying on rudimentary tactics and technology. Many though have proven deadly assets to the ruinous powers or valuable auxillaries to commanders with the patience for them.

WS	BS	S	T (5)	Ag	Int	Per	Wp	Fel
41	34	44	44	36	27	34	27	27

​

Head	L-Arm	R-Arm	Body	L-Legs	R-Legs
1-10	11-20	21-30	31-70	71-85	86-100
5	7	7	8	7	7

Movement: 5/10/15/30 Wounds: 12
Armour: Flak and Mail (2 Arms/Legs, 3 Body) Total TB: 5
Skills: Athletics (Str), Awareness (Per), Intimidate (Str), Stealth (Ag), Survival (Per)
Talents: Frenzy, Hardy, Takedown
Traits: Brutal Charge [2], Forest Kith, Low Light Vision, Primal Fury, Unnatural Speed (2)
Children of Chaos: The character has 1d5-1 mutations.
Truegor: Gors with no mutations have +3 to Strength, Toughness, Intelligence, Fellowship, and Willpower.
Foe Render: +2 Wounds, +5 Fellowship/Willpower, Command +0. Wields a chainsword as its melee weapon and wears guard flak armor.
Weapons (Choose melee weapon and one ranged weapon)

• Axe: (Melee; Damage: 1d10+5 R; Unbalanced)
• Sword: (Melee; Damage: 1d10+4 R; Balanced)
• Autopistol (Pistol; 30m; S/–/6; 1d10+2 I; Pen 0; Clip 18; Reload Full)
• Hand Cannon (Pistol; 35m; S/–/–; 1d10+4 I; Pen 2; Clip 18; Reload Full)
• Autogun (Basic; 100m; S/3/10; 1d10+3 I; Pen 0; Clip 30; Reload Full)
• Shotgun (Basic; 30m; S/–/–; 1d10+4 I; Pen 0; Clip 8; Reload 2 Full);
• Flamer (Basic; 20m; S/–/–; 1d10+4 I; Pen 2; Clip 6; Reload 2 Full; Flame, Spray)

Gors may have one of the following

• 2 Blasting Charges (Thrown; 9m; S/–/–; 2d10 X; Pen 0; Blast [2], Concussive [0])
• 2 Fire Bombs (Thrown; 9m; S/–/–; 1d10+2 E; Pen 0; Blast [2], Flame)

Equipment: Gear: Poor quality respirator, 2 reloads for primary weapon, chaos icon, ritual knife.
Bestigor (Elite)
The best of the gors, the bestigors are truly fearsome veterans that often accompany beastlords and bray shamans as bodyguards and packmates. Others gather into their own packs as they seek greater spoils and glory, but few are willing to serve alongside lesser gors for long. All carry the finest equipment the warherd has to offer and each has filled a small graveyard with their foes. Some even stand out enough through deed and zeal to earn the eye of the gods. Such bestigors inevitably tred the path to glory the same as any human or astartes, enjoying the same unholy boons as the mannish earth beasts.

WS	BS	S	T (6)	Ag	Int	Per	Wp	Fel
45	37	50	50	38	29	37	29	29

​

Head	L-Arm	R-Arm	Body	L-Legs	R-Legs
1-10	11-20	21-30	31-70	71-85	86-100
11	9	9	11	9	9

Movement: 5/10/15/30 Wounds: 16
Armour: Flak & Plate (5 Heady/Body, 3 All) Total TB: 6
Skills: Athletics (Str) +10, Awareness (Per), Dodge (Ag), Intimidate (Str) +10, Parry (WS), Stealth (Ag), Survival (Per)
Talents: Battlerage, Crushing Blow, Despoiler, Devastating Assault, Hip Firing, Iron Jaw, Frenzy, Hardy
Traits: Brutal Charge [2], Forest Kith, Low Light Vision, Primal Fury, Unnatural Speed (1)
Despoiler: When an enemy officer is slain, the character may spend a Full Action to desecrate the remains and claim their trophy, granting all allies within the character's Fellowship in meters the Hatred against that officer’s faction for the rest of the battle.
Children of Chaos: The character has 1d5-1 mutations.
Truegor: Bestigors with no mutations have +3 to Strength, Toughness, Intelligence, Fellowship, and Willpower.
Path to Glory: Give the character the mark of khorne, nurgle, slaanesh, or tzeentch and replace any mutations with Gifts from the Gods from the Black Crusade corebook.
Greathorn: +4 Wounds, +10 Fellowship/Willpower, Command +10, Two Weapon Fighting, Ambidextrous. Wears carapace armour and may take a boltpistol and good quality chainweapon.
Weapons (Choose one ranged weapon and one melee weapon)

• Combat Shotgun (Basic; 30m; S/3/–; 1d10+4 I; Pen 0; Clip 18; Reload Full; Scatter, Barbed Rounds: Crippling [1])
• Good Quality Autogun (Basic; 100m; S/3/10; 1d10+3 I; Pen 3; Clip 30; Reload Full; Man-Stopper Bullets, Reliable)
• Flamer (Basic; 20m; S/–/–; 1d10+4 I; Pen 2; Clip 6; Reload 2 Full; Flame, Spray)
• Good Quality Autopistol (Pistol; 30m; S/–/6; 1d10+2 I; Pen 3; Clip 18; Reload Full, Reliable, Man Stopper Bullets)
• Chainsword (Melee; 1d10+6 R; Pen 2; Balanced, Tearing)
• Chainaxe* (Melee; 1d10+7 R; Pen 2; Unbalanced, Tearing) *Gains +2 Pen and replaces Unbalanced with Unwieldly when wielded two handed

Bestigors may have one of the following

• 2 Frag Grenades (Thrown; 12m; S/–/–; 2d10 X; Pen 0; Clip 1; Reload –; Blast [3])
• 2 Krak Grenades (Thrown; 12m; S/–/–; 2d10+4 X; Pen 6; Clip 1; Reload –; Concussive [0])

Equipment: Photo visor, rebreather, basic toolkit, 4 reloads for primary weapon, chaos icon, ritual knife.
Centigor (Minion)
This nomadic offshoot of the gors are best known for their ill discipline even by the low standards of beastmen warherds, being even more prone to self indulgence than their mannish cousins. While as swift as most horses, this rarely shows as they are often either thoroughly drunk or enduring a bitter state of hangover. On their own they are usually hunters and brigands that indulge in their own base appetites. Warherds however often bribe centigors with copious amounts of alcohol and females in return for their services as scouts and raiders. Though these centigors are about as undisciplined as their free roaming kin they are still stronger than a gor and (in theory) as fast as a horse, making them a valuable if unreliable addition to any warherd.

WS	BS	S (5)	T (5)	Ag	Int	Per	Wp	Fel
42	34	46	48	36	27	34	27	27

​

Head	L-Arm	R-Arm	Body	L-Legs	R-Legs
1-10	11-20	21-30	31-70	71-85	86-100
5	5	5	8	5	5

Movement: 8/16/24/48 Wounds: 18
Armour: Flak Vest (3 Chest) Total TB: 5
Skills: Athletics (Str), Awareness (Per), Dodge (Ag), Intimidate (Str), Stealth (Ag), Survival (Per)
Talents: Hardy, Hip Firing, Resistance (Alcohol), Sprint
Traits: Brutal Charge [2], Forest Kith, Low Light Vision, Primal Fury, Quadrupedal, Size (5), Unnatural Strength (1), Unnatural Toughness (1)
Children of Chaos: The character has a 25% chance of 1d5-1 mutations.
Drunken Hoof: Centigors have one of three traits as determined by the GM.

• Drunken Bravado: Gains Jaded and Resistance (Fear).
• Hangover from Hell: Automatically succeeds Primal Fury tests.
• Sober for Once: Gains +10 Agility (and +2 base speed as a result).

Gorehoof: +2 Wounds, +5 Fellowship/Willpower, Command +0. Wields an autopistol and chainsword and wears a xenos hide vest.
Weapons (Choose one ranged weapon to go with cavalry spear)

• Cavalry Spear: (Melee; Damage: 1d10+5 R; Unabalanced, Proven [2] or [4] on charge)
• Stub Revolver (Pistol; 30m; S/-/-; 1d10+3 I; Pen 0; Clip 6; Reload 2 Full)
• Hunting Rifle (Basic; 150m; S/-/-; 1d10+3 I; Pen 0; Clip 5; Reload Full; Accurate)
• Autogun (Basic; 100m; S/3/10; 1d10+3 I; Pen 0; Clip 30; Reload Full)

Equipment: 2 reloads for primary weapon, chaos icon, bacchan brew
Bacchan Brew: While a delightful alcohol to beastmen, any human drinking this must make an Ordinary (+10) Toughness test. Failure causes them to suffer 1 fatigue and vomit for a number of turns equal to their degrees of failure. Success automatically causes them to enter Frenzy for 2d5 minutes even if they lack the talent. Incidentally orks and bearers of the Mark of Slaanesh can drink this vile brew with no need for a Toughness test.
Minotaur (Elite)
Believed to be an offshoot of gors, minotaurs stand twice the height of a man and are considerably bulkier with razor sharp horns, thick skulls, and wolf-like teeth giving away their near addiction to fresh blood and meat. Minotaurs gather in clans under a bloodkine, with multiple clans forming a warherd led by a Gorebull, a minotaur that walks the path to glory. Especially large warherds are lead by a Doombull, a minotaur that has effectively become a chaos lord, with several gorebull lieutenants. Often though individual clans will serve alongside warherds or even the earth beasts loyal to the true gods.

WS	BS	S (10)	T (7)	Ag	Int	Per	Wp	Fel
44	22	64	59	32	24	38	35	21

​

Head	L-Arm	R-Arm	Body	L-Legs	R-Legs
1-10	11-20	21-30	31-70	71-85	86-100
7	10	10	12	7	7

Movement: 4/8/12/24 Wounds: 34
Armour: Plate and Mail (5 Chest, 3 Arms) Total TB: 7
Skills: Athletics (Str), Awareness (Per), Intimidate (Str) +10, Navigate (Tunnels) +20; Survival (Per)
Talents: Bulging Biceps, Frenzy, Hardy, Jaded, Preternatural Speed, Thunder Charge
Traits: Brutal Charge (4), Darksight, Deadly Natural Weapons, Fear (1), Primal Fury, Size (5), Unnatural Strength (4), Unnatural Toughness (2)
Bloodgreed: During Frenzy a minotaur must make a Challenging (+0) Willpower test to pursue fleeing enemies when there are dead humanoids nearby. Additionally a minotaur that consumes dead humanoids heals at double its normal rate and instantly regains fatigue equal to the meal's Toughness bonus. However, consuming beastmen flesh automatically gives the minotaur 1d10 corruption points while still providing the above benefits. Minotaurs normally do not suffer from bloodgreed in the presence of dead beastmen unless they’ve consumed beastmen flesh in the past year.
Bloodkine: +6 Wounds, Crushing Blow, +5 Willpower, Command +0
Weapons (Choose one of the following along with Natural Weapons)

• Natural Weapons: (Melee; Damage: 1d10+10 R)
• Greataxe: (Melee; Damage: 2d10+10 I, AP 0; Unbalanced)
• Chain Greataxe: (Melee; Damage: 2d10+12 I, AP 4; Tearing; Unwieldy)
• Reinforced Heavy Stubber (Heavy; 160m; -/-/8; 1d10+5 I; Pen 3; Clip 800; Reload --; Expander Rounds, Reliable, Backpack Ammo)

Posted this on Tumblr earlier, thought I'd put it here too. Have been wanting to whip this up since the episode two weeks ago. I love the circle of sports. Used the circle of stars as a base, even though circle of spores is the more obvious typo lol. Enjoy!

Druid: Circle of Sports

Since the first being aspired to test their might, hone their skill, and chase the thrill of victory, the magic of sports has shaped the planes.
None understand this better than the druids of the Circle of Sports, students of the Plane of Sports. These druids have balled since time immemorial, dunking with primordials and discovering lost secrets in the ancient temples of gains. By honoring sportsmanship, competition, and the purity of the big man taking the rock all the way to the points hole, the Circle of Sports pursue teamwork, self-betterment, and a dynamic universe full of excitement and challenge.
Many druids of this circle keep records of the Great Games of the world, feats of strength and sportsmanship that ring forever in the legendary Hall of Fame at the heart of the Plane of Sports. They contend these records hold the spirits of those who came before, and can serve as markers, clues, and guides to what is possible. Shrines, gyms, trophies, trading cards, or artifacts signed by heroes long passed are both defended and sought after by these sages, as well as by scoundrels and adventurers alike. Other druids seek to place their own names in the Hall of Fame and pave the way for heroes yet to come.

Sports Trance

At 2nd level, you can enter a sports trance, retreating your consciousness to the sequestered Plane of Sports. While in this trance your body becomes a Tiny sports-related object of your choice, with resistance to all damage, that can be used as a simple melee weapon that deals 1d8 bludgeoning damage and has the finesse, light, and thrown properties (range 20/60).
While in this state you are unconscious, but can be roused as if from sleep, ending the trance. You can complete a long rest in 4 hours if you spend those hours in this trance. Whenever you finish a sports trance, you gain proficiency in Athletics, and your proficiency bonus is doubled for any check made using that skill. These benefits last until your next sports trance.

Circle Spells

When you join this circle at 2nd level, your link with the Plane of Sports grants you access to some spells when you reach certain levels in this class, as shown on the Circle of Sports Spells table.
Once you gain access to one of these spells, you always have it prepared, and it doesn't count against the number of spells you can prepare each day. If you gain access to a spell that doesn't appear on the Druid Spell List, the spell is nonetheless a druid spell for you.

Druid Level	Spells
2nd	Compelled Duel, Catapult
3rd	Kinetic Jaunt, Spiritual Weapon
5th	Motivational Speech, Haste
7th	Freedom of Movement, Staggering Smite
9th	Conjure Volley, Greater Restoration

Sports Form

At 2nd level, you gain the ability to harness the power of sports to alter your form. As a bonus action, you can expend a use of your Wild Shape feature to take on a sports form, rather than transforming into a beast. Changing into a sports form ends any other active Wild Shapes.
While in your sports form, your clothes take on the appearance of appropriate sports attire, and appropriate sports-themed music plays. The form lasts for 10 minutes. It ends early if you dismiss it (no action required), are incapacitated, die, or use this feature again.
Whenever you assume your sports form, choose which of the following styles you embody; your choice gives you certain benefits while in the form:
Fastball. A series of sports-themed balls and projectiles appear in orbit around you. When you activate this style, and as a bonus action on your subsequent turns while it lasts, you can make a ranged spell attack, hurling a ball or other projectile that targets one creature within 60 feet of you. On a hit, the attack deals bludgeoning damage equal to 1d8 + your Wisdom modifier.
Nike. An incredible set of appropriate sports footwear appears on your feet. While in this style your walking speed increases by 15 feet. You gain a swimming and climbing speed of 30 feet. If you already have a swim and climb speed, you can instead increase that speed by 15 feet. When you jump, you may add twice your proficiency bonus in feet to the distance in any direction.
Roughhouse. Your muscles bulge and glisten with sparkling oil. In this style you can add your Wisdom bonus to Strength checks, Strength saving throws, and Constitution saving throws to maintain concentration. While this style is active you can make a grapple or shove attack as a bonus action.

Rally the Team

When you reach 6th level, you learn to channel the power of sports to your allies. As a bonus action, all creatures you choose within 30 feet gain 1d8 temporary hit points or may immediately roll a save to end any continuous negative effect that could normally be negated with a successful saving throw. They must be able to hear or see you to gain this benefit.
You cannot use this ability again until you finish a short rest.

Welcome to the Jam

At 10th level, the styles of your Sports Form improve. The 1d8 of Fastball becomes 2d8. While Nike is active all opportunity attacks have disadvantage against you. While Roughhouse is active you can grapple or push creatures of any size without penalty.
Moreover, at the start of each of your turns while in your Sports Form, you can change which style you embody.

Hall of Fame

At 14th level, your connection to the plane of sports has become something of legend. While in your Sports Form, this legacy grants you a kind of immortality, giving you resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage.

Looking for recommendations for black drawstring pants that have:
-Drawstring waist (duh) -Full zip or full button fly -Prefer five pocket, but coin pocket isn’t a must have -Patch-style (preferred) or flap back pockets (no chino slit style pockets or pocketless pants, these make a weak rear end look even more saggy IMO) -Fit similar to a Levi’s 511 or 501 - fitted but not skinny and not baggy/relaxed -Durable fabric with a little stretch and weight like a cotton/synthetic blend or canvas (no nylon, windbreaker, hiking, sweatpants or athletic lightweight material)
I’m a slim/average build 41 year old male, 5’8” height and about 158lbs. Usually wear 30”x30” pants and size small shirts. I have a lot of spine and hip pain issues (bone spurs, bulged discs, degenerative disc disease - thanks, genetics!) and I work in retail so I’m on my feet all day and end up on the couch (or floor) at night. I find that wearing jeans/stiffer pants with a belt exacerbates my pain and problems, so I’m on the hunt for something more comfortable, adaptable and forgiving. My footwear of choice is low top Vans or running shoes by On, Nike or Adidas and I usually wear my pants cuffed once or twice.
I’ve tried: https://roark.com/products/layover-traveler-pant-mens-pants-rp313 The shorts version of these are great but the pants are oddly tight in the lower leg/calf area
Looking at: https://topodesigns.com/products/dirt-pants-mens?variant=42998589751349 Want to give them a try, but I’m concerned they’re going to fit similarly to the Roark pants.
Googling all of the features I’m in search of provides a lot of results, but none have hit the mark quite right.
Any suggestions welcome!

I teach a corrective exercise modality called Foundation Training and am looking for a gym to teach out of. Specifically I work with clients who have chronic and acute pain, and mobility issues, ranging from general joint discomfort to more pathological issues like spondylolithesis, scoliosis, osteoporosis, Ehlers Danlos, herniatied and bulging discs etc.
Foundation Training also has performance benefits and has been taken up my BJJ and MMA athletes, surfers, golfers, etc.
FT also has a small case study with the LA fire department showing improvements in markers of longevity including grip strength, lung volume and mood. I would love to share this work with the local FD.
Does anyone have recommendations for any gyms in the valley that would be open to this modality?
Thanks!

So I wanted to get some advice/opinions.
I've been in the gym on and off for years and as of late, I’m essentially stealth (not intentionally, I just don't come out to people I see sometimes at the gym).
Since I’m being seen as cis, I feel kinda weird about not having a bulge, especially when laying flat on a weight bench or something similar.
Recently I’ve been considering getting an athletic cup to wear in the gym to remedy this.
Is this a good idea. Does anyone think there would be comfort issues? Would the bulge look weird? Idk but any thoughts on this are appreciated.

Hi all,
I'm (42 year old male) a fairly athletic person (competitive stair climber), but late last year my wife got very sick and early this year she was diagnosed with brain cancer, so my workout regimen has been set aside while she tries to get better and I help her and take care of the kids full time and work.
A few weeks ago, I had tolerable lower back pain that transformed overnight into horrible right leg pain. Finding a comfortable position almost impossible. Walking around hurts and is tiring, but the least awful state to be in. Driving is horrible.
I got an mri, and finally received the radiologist report. What should I do with these results? Relax and recover? Chiropractor? Yoga? Exercise as much as I can tolerate? What kind? Etc. I'm open to most suggestions.
And if I get past this episode, how do I keep it from coming back, what should I realistically expect for the next 50 years? Etc.
MR LUMBAR SPINE
INTERPRETATION: CLINICAL INFORMATION: Low back pain
ADDITIONAL CLINICAL INFORMATION: Low back muscle strain S39.012A
TECHNIQUE: Multiplanar, multisequence MRI was performed of the lumbar spine.
IV Contrast: NONE
PRIOR STUDIES: No priors available for comparison.
FINDINGS: Conus terminates at the L1 level and is normal in signal. Vertebral body heights are maintained. Alignment is normal. There is disc degeneration and mild disc height loss at L4-L5 and L5-S1.
T12-L1, L1-L2, L2-L3: No bulging or herniated intervertebral discs. No spinal canal or foraminal narrowing.
L3-L4: Minimal disc bulge. Mild bilateral foraminal narrowing. No spinal canal narrowing.
L4-L5: Small central disc protrusion superimposed on a minimal disc bulge. No nerve root displacement. Mild spinal canal and bilateral foraminal narrowing.
L5-S1: Moderate-sized right paracentral disc herniation which posteriorly displaces the descending right S1 nerve root.
The imaged portions of the sacroiliac joints are unremarkable.
There is no paraspinal muscle atrophy or edema.
IMPRESSION:
Moderate-sized right paracentral disc herniation at L5-S1 which posteriorly displaces the descending right S1 nerve root.
Small central disc protrusion at L4-L5 without nerve root displacement
-- - End of Report---
Thank you very much!

Been dealing with periodic flare-ups of severe lower back pain since I was 18. I did competitive gymnastics for 10 years as a child and have played several sports, most recently rugby. My most recent flare-up has lasted much longer than others, and the normal stretching/resting/light activity and core work wasn’t working. It’s gotten to the point where walking, sitting, and sleeping are almost impossible so I went to the doctor. MRI shows mild disc desiccation and diffuse annular bulge in 2 lumbar vertebrae. PA recommended steroid injection and says I can do any activity that I can “tolerate”. PT said I probably need to stop playing rugby and working out as intensely/frequently as I do (6x a week PPL split when I’m not completely immobilized by pain). I’ve cut out squatting, deadlifting, and anything overhead (bc of a shoulder injury), but the idea of never playing rugby again is haunting me. Any other athletes struggling with lower back pain? What modifications have you made to workouts? Were you able to play your sport again?

Maybe this is just a some sort of a rant as I am kind of struggling with the general acceptance of incontinence in society.
As a start I am an athletic male in his early thirties with a good career, however I have been dealing with incontinence issues for a while now. What started with bedwetting during my teens, developed into IBS and OAB episodes during college (most likely due to a very bad UTI at the end of freshman year)....years go by and it becomes an intermittent problem which comes and goes. Now fast forward to 2022, the year I which I sustained a spinal cord injury (hyperextension injury; central cord syndrome) I have been extremely lucky that my recovery went well and I was sort of back on my feet in 2 months....that being said the path to a full recovery has been slow, even till this day I have issues but still see some slow progress in the right direction.
Incontinence wise it has been a rocky road, where retention and urge incontinence existed in parallel...likewise for bowel issues. I have been incredibly grateful for protection and with some fluid management I was able to ditch the diapers/pads for the most part during the day two months ago..so I thought. This week I was on a city trip to Italy and I noticed that although carefully monitoring my fluid intake, I was having spams and really had to do my utmost best not to wet myself. Luckily I did take some daytime protection with me.
It felt like my body betrayed me and during these moment I always kinda miss a peesupport system, which got me to think about the whole taboo on the topic:
- Why are there no support groups (besides these great online forums) for incontinence, at least not here in EU/NL (to be specific). For a lot of other diseases and chronic conditions (MS, Crohns, diabetes i.e.) there are meetings, support groups and patient platforms. Influencers/Youtubers even raise awareness for these conditions, but very rarely someone opens up about incontinence while the statistics shows that the adult diaper market is growing rapidly and prevalence of OAB/Urge incontinence/bedwetting is higher than anticipated even among young adults.
- As I am quite vigilant/observant in terms of spotting other incontinent people I have a had a few encounters over the years, lastly sitting in the plane towards home where I stumbled on a passenger opposite the aisle...when he was lifting his suitcase in the overhead compartment his shirt did ride up and I noticed a particular diaper cover and a bulge (boxershort lookalike but with a higher waistline, there is only one Dutch company who produces these, Adjustforyou)...they look like regular underwear for an outsider but the higher waistline and visual differences are noticeable for someone who is aware). As the guy was of my age I would have loved to make a connection, but I always scare away from starting a conversation....as it can be so awkward and intrusive.
- There is still a huge taboo on using incontinence products especially while being young and mobile and often is frowned upon by society. Even though I have a normal life, the incontinence and the use of protection is something which affects me at times and it is not a topic you easily discuss with close friends or family.
I can not be the only one who is struggling with this...but considering the taboo I am just wondering if a) the majority just accepts incontinence/wearing protection and never looks back and does not have a need to get support or b) are simply too embarrassed and even if they want support they prefer anonymous online platforms
​

Hi everyone!
I posted on here before but I actually have a few more questions and updates about my pain. For TLDR, I will bold the important stuff.
Backstory:
I am a powerlifter, and have been competing for about two years now. I am sort of in my "off-season" right now, and not sure when the next time I will be compete will be, especially as I am heading off to college this fall. I would like to keep lifting even if I don't compete though! Anyways, about late-December to early January I began to have a sharp tightness/cramping or spasming pain in my left mid-back. It only really flares up when I deadlift or do bent-over rows. It feels as though someone is jolting/punching me in my left side/back real hard. Occasionally feel it in the side of my ribs. Nothing in the front of my chest. And yes, I have checked my form and have a coach — all is well in that realm. In fact, my form has gotten even better since I started working on this injury, lol! I will attach an imgur link with a picture of the area. My pain is not necessarily constant, and it only really flares after these certain exercises. Seems to get worse after each lockout of my deadlift or each time I perform a pendlay/barbell row. No pain on squat or bench, or really any other accessory back exercises besides these two. The pain also dissipates pretty fast after I get it (or after working out really). This has made it hard to pinpoint to a super specific spot when I go to the doctor or chiro. A slight ache is there sometimes though.
https://imgur.com/a/KYWoB8v
Diagnoses:
I have gotten a thoracic MRI — report said "slight bulging disc" in t4-t5 or t5-t6 (can't remember) but my pain management specialist said he saw nothing incidental. I have slight thoracic kyphosis as well as around 23-25 degree levoscoliosis (can't remember exact number, nothing severe enough to warrant intervention though). I also have a thirteenth rib in my thoracic spine (or so I was told.. lol). I have also been told I have Thoracic Outlet Syndrome (numbness when stretching chest, holding arms above head). The pain management specialist I saw told me it was more muscular in nature, which is weird since this has been going on for so long.
Treatments Tried:
I have been to the chiropractor probably more than 30 times in the past 6 months. We have tried "popping ribs back in place," shockwave therapy, STIM, KT tape, dry needling, cupping therapy, and physical therapy exercises (wall angels, cat cow, prone y raise, child's pose and lots of other yoga-type stuff, lat stretches, etc, as well as posture stuff). I also got steroid trigger point injections last Friday... I'm really unsure if they helped at all, still getting my pain when lifting. I even tried peptides (BPC-157) for a month, no results. Heat helps, but only in the moment of course. Got put on meloxicam, no improvement. Diclofenac seemed to work but I can't take that long-term. Cyclobenzaprine does nothing (However, I obviously only take it at night, so that may be why). I also got a "deep-tissue massage," which was basically a waste of $115 for me sadly...
Stretching my chest has seemed to help, I lay on a foam roller and retract my scapula with arms on the ground for about 10 min. Going to keep trying this to see if I get any more relief. I have been rolling the side of my back/ribcage on a lacrosse ball, and that actually seems to recreate the pain/tightness, so I'm a little worried about continuing that. And just to be clear, if I get pain in the middle of my lift, I will immediately drop weight or stop the exercise. I can lift with no pain up until a certain point, and some weeks that is heavier weight than others. I am only deadlifting at about 50-60% of my max right now. Can do 50-55% with basically little-to-no pain
All of this has been to no avail so far. Let me just say, to those of you who struggle with chronic pain — I feel you deeply. As an athlete, this has really been impacting me both mentally, emotionally, and physically. I feel even more deeply for those of you who experience debilitating pain 24/7. I am with you, I see you, and I am here for you. We are all in this together.
Questions:
Has anybody had experience with any similar pain? Any other recommendations? I was told to look into acupuncture by a friend. Not sure if an epidural, nerve ablation/nerve block, or botox injections would be beneficial in my case. I'd like to stay away from the epidural option if possible. Also, does anyone have any idea what could be causing this pain? I'm glad that my MRI showed no findings, but it is frustrating when it feels like you are just "making up" this pain. Chiropractor just said to keep working on it, and that eventually it will sort itself out... but I've been hearing this for almost four months now. I really do not want to have to give up deadlifting, but it is nice just being able to lift even a fraction of what I was lifting before. My pain only seems to be getting worse though.
Thank you guys in advance.