Symptoms sneezing runny nose itchy ears watery eyes

Lads, is anyone else finding their allergies this summer absolutely diabolical??
I can barely see out of my eyes from the sneezing and general irritation and the snottiest nose that just won't quit. Most of my friends are the exact same, no antihistamines are working!

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---Sample---
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---Fnurfar’s perspective---
---2710 Terran Calenda3 years BF---
All six of my paws desperately scramble against the slick pavement of the Prosperity back alley as I flee for my life!
Pursuing me… is a monster!
His species aren’t meant to be sprinters!
They said if it came to a chase, I just needed to quickly get out of his line of sight and keep going and he’d not be able to keep up!
I skid around a corner and steal a glance behind me, seeing two furious eyes moving towards me so fast that they seem to leave streaks of emerald green behind them as afterimages!
The Fury is so close on my tail that he’s almost certain to catch me now!
It would be laughable how much my… ‘employers’ had underestimated him if it weren’t so terrifying!
‘You’ve got a Terran with you! There should be no issue!’
Yes, that idiot mercenary they hired almost had me going with his smug, arrogant proclamation that ‘Big=slow! Slow=dead!’ as he idly showed off his little knife tricks!
My confidence lasted up until the very moment I saw the one we were supposed to rob!
[20cm] taller than the skinny mercenary and looking like he could easily weigh twice as much, the man was a Hunt damned beast compared to the one who was meant to protect me from him!
I think Flynn reassessed his cocksure attitude as well because, rather than waiting for me to have an opening like we agreed in the [fucking] plan, he just drew a knife and tried to stab the monster to death!
An extremely poorly calculated risk!
There was no competition!
This juggernaut dealt with Flynn as easily as Flynn could have dealt with me!
It took him a matter of seconds to dispatch my accomplice but that was a matter of seconds where he was distracted enough that I was able to snag what we had been after… not that it makes any difference now!
Just as I hear thundering footfalls coming up on my left, powerful fingers impact the space between the bottom of my neck and the top of my top shoulderblades.
I’m slammed into the ground… but not killed…
I can feel the power contained in the iron grip around my neck…
I know that decapitating me would be as simple as deciding to close his fingers but, as I wait for death to come, it doesn’t…
Instead, the hand slides up my shoulders, gathering the loose skin and lifting me up like a kit in her parent’s mouth…
The first thing I’m able to see is the monster’s flat, booted feet, followed by a pair of long thick legs, then a chest and left arm covered in a loose fitting, buttoned shirt, patterned with vertical and horizontal lines.
The red fabric of his top disguises the bloodstain from the wound he got from Flynn, just below his shoulder. However, the nauseatingly metallic smell of it absolutely fills my nostrils!
The final thing to be revealed, as my feet hang more than [a metre] from the ground, is a face… the scarred skin a pale beige, the white, calcite teeth bared in a furious grimace, copper coloured eyebrows tilted downward in the middle over a nose, wrinkled with anger, and emerald eyes, burning with rage!
His shoulders rise and fall, in time with panted breaths he sucks in and out through his gritted teeth, putting me less in mind of a person (or even an animal) catching their breath after exertion and more in mind of some hulking piece of machinery from the Steam Age venting its pressure!
The Terran extends his pallid skinned, long fingered, furless, pentadactyl left hand to me, stained with the ferrous blood that’s run down his sleeve, and growls “Sample!”
“No…” I breathe, terrified.
“GIRL! I AIN’T fuckin’ PLAYIN’ with you!” he snarls, curling all but his index finger and jabbing it towards my snout “You’re gonna. GIVE. BACK. what you. FUCKIN’. STOLE!”
“You… can take it… from my corpse…” I defy, clutching my exhausted, trembling pawhands to the front of my jumpsuit.
Effortlessly, his free hand comes forward, batting my four aside, before pinching the top of the stasis vial and pulling it free, with there being absolutely nothing I can do to stop him!
He holds up the tube, in which is visible a small plant with a rosette of frilly black leaves and through which can be seen a frozen impression of the room it was in when it was stasised, demanding “You’re really willin’ to die for this!? For corporate espionage?!… Why the fuck’s this matter to you like that?!?!?!”
“I don’t care… about the plant… at all…” I answer, defeated.
His face twists in a sneer as he asks “Then why tell me I had to pry it from your cold. dead. hands!?”
“Because… if I come back… emptyhanded… they’re going to… torture my husband… and son… and make me watch!… If I don’t… come back… at all… maybe they’ll let them go!” I pant in answer.
His face falls blank… but I can tell that is not because he’s no longer angry!
Instead, his redoubled rage has gone from white hot to ice cold as he leans in and demands “Who’s ‘they’?”
---2715 Terran Calenda2 years AF---
“One!?” demands the sceptical, lutrine, Nvar man, one of six listening to my story for the first time (along with the two friends who’ve heard it before), holding up a webbed pawhand and extending a single finger “You’re trying to tell us that one Terran dismantled the entire Giluspri Sisters’ Syndicate, overnight!?… Simply because you told him a sob story about them holding your family hostage!?”
“I did say you wouldn’t believe me(!)” I smirk, lifting my drink to take a sip.
“You’re damn right I don’t believe you!!!” he sneers “It might have been a little more believable if you’d made it a team of a dozen or so Terrans that were guarding this thing but one!?… There’s no way it took a single individual a single night to root out and entirely destroy an enterprise that Prosperity’s government had been hunting for nearly [2 decades], even if that individual was a Terran!”
I place my drink down on the table and turn the palms of all four pawhands to the ceiling as I say “Believe me or don’t… that’s exactly how it happened!”
“Hmmm… Don’t know ’bout ‘exactly’…!” comes a familiar voice from behind my head, in the next booth over.
I freeze and straighten my back.
The friends and audience in my booth are looking past me, curiously, but, from their faces, it doesn’t look like they can see anything.
I stand and slide out through the gap between the table and Nafnarl’s footpaws.
I turn right and am immediately able to see that the booth next to us is occupied by a mixture of Terrans and some much smaller humanoids with green skin.
I keep going, rounding the partition to reveal…
“By the Hunt! Victor?!” I exclaim, seeing the man sat with his back almost exactly to where I was sitting, next to another tall, slim humanoid with blue skin and four arms.
His copper hair is much longer, his face isn’t as scarred and isn’t wearing the disgusted sneer that characterised so much of the time he and I spent together but… there’s no mistaking it!
The man turns his head, smiling, before standing up to nearly twice my height and extending a palm to ruffle the fur between my ears, saying “How’s it goin’, Foxy? You look a lot better ’an you did last time I saw you at least(!)” gesturing with his other hand up and down my less skinny and less visibly scarred body.
“Never mind that, Victor! What are you doing here?! You didn’t tell me you were coming back to Prosperity!”
He smirks “Yeah, sorry Foxy… It’s a loose lips sink ships kinda deal… Just thought I’d show my friends here the bar you brought me to celebrate after everythin’ was done that time… Didn’t think I’d actually run into you here!”
I stare up at the man, agog, for a few moments before reaching up with both my left hands and closing them around his wrist.
He allows me to drag him back to the head of my table.
“Nafnarl! Gfurnaf! This is him! This is the one I’ve been telling you about for the last [5 years]!” I say to my two Graufna friends before turning to the rest of the table to declare “He’s the man who took down the Giluspris! He’s Victor ‘Cuddles’ Taylor!”
With mirthful bemusement, the Terran raises his left palm to the table to smile “Y’alright guys!” before his eyes scan the faces and his expression goes concerned. He turns to me and asks “Your hubby alright, Foxy?”
I bare my teeth (I hope friendlily) and answer “Fnarnulf’s fine, Victor!… Fuffarn too! This is just a girl’s night…” gesturing at my two friends “…or… it was(!)” gesturing over the four men and two women, of four different species, who joined us to hear my story.
“What did you mean by it not being ‘exactly’ right?” queries Lunvo, the same sceptical Nvar who voiced disbelief before, still looking sceptical (not that I can blame him) but at least impressed by the fact that the ‘con’ has a (imposing looking) Terran stooge now(!)
“Weeeeell…” Victor frowns down at me, mirthfully “…the way she described me dodgin’ that knife attack, she made me sound almost psychic(!)… In reality, she and this guy weren’t as smooth as she seems to think(!) The fact that I even got nicked by someone I was payin’ as much attention to as that is a bad reflection on my reaction time!… Also, she kinda made it sound like I went into their headquarters with a gun in one hand and a lit plasmasword in the other(!) As I recall, I gave ’em all a chance to surrender and come quietly and it were only after they, shall we say, indicated a lack of interest in that option that my weapons first cleared leather!… Oh! And what was with all that comparin’ the way I pant to ventin’ steam engines, Foxy(?!)”
“But…” starts Muan, a nervous tolypeutine Wne woman beside her Wno husband, Kmuw “…you don’t deny it was you and you alone who brought down the Giluspris?… Without help?”
The pale skin of the Terran’s flat face performs a complicated scrunch as he considers the question before answering “Don’t know ’bout ‘without help’… I had Foxy here for showin’ me the way, after I’d done a lotta convincin’… and, once I’d taken care of ’em, local law enforcers came to take the survivors away… Aaaaand… I probably didn’t actually manage to kill or capture every last one of ’em… just gutted its power structure enough that the rats fled the sinkin’ ship(!)”
“Why are you calling her ‘Foxy’?” asks Lunvo, four eyes narrowed in suspicion “‘Fnurfar’ is the name she gave us!”
The large man shrugs his shoulders “I didn’t get her name until we came here to celebrate… she didn’t trust me to give it… Had to call her somethin’, so I called her Foxy.”
“Hmmm…” responds Lunvo “…I’m not buying it…”
Victor raises an eyebrow “You ain’t buyin’ me givin’ her a nickname(!?)”
“I don’t believe any of it! The whole story reeks of the fanciful!”
I bare my teeth and slam my paws on the table before snarling “I don’t care if you question my honesty, Lunvo, but this man saved my husband’s life, my son’s life, the lives of dozens of others, freed me from effective slavery and freed this planet from its largest criminal syndicate! I will not have you questioning his integrity!”
Lunvo cowers away from me, despite the table separating us.
I feel a large, strong hand on my shoulder.
I turn to see a smiling face.
“Eeeeasy there, Foxy… ’Preciate the defence but there ain’t no need to get heated over it!… ’Specially not when there’s a really easy way to sort this out…” he looks up at Lunvo and asks “Lunvo, was it? Could I ask you to look up the front page of the Prosperity Chronicle from the 3rd of September, 2710?… I think you’ll see a picture of me shakin’ hands with your governor at the time…”
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Dramatis Personae

pic for reference 👀
24F, 5’6 100lbs, taking amox-clav, non-smoker
I get sick at least every month (lately every few weeks) for the past year with terrible cold and flu symptoms (productive cough, runny nose, sore throat, ear pain.) My mucus is blue every time. I have chronic shortness of breath the last year and a MicroGenX swab didn't show anything to indicate why my phlegm is blue. I'm on a second round of amoxicillin-clav per an allergist.
Does anyone have any idea what could be causing my terrible immune system, SOB, and blue mucus? Thank you so much.
https://ibb.co/gzrdn98

Hi everyone, and my apologies in advance for this stress-induced vent.
I went to my GP around April of this year because I’ve been having very bad problems with sleepiness and fatigue. I’ve always been tired but it’s been getting to the point where I’ve started dozing off at work and have been getting drowsy while behind the wheel. I also get this all-consuming, heavy body feeling where I just feel like I cannot move or do anything—not constant, but prevalent enough. Periodic brain fog and forgetfulness as well. Not too ideal, so time to get it addressed. She ran an autoimmune panel and it came back with a positive ANA screen, positive anti-SSA/RO, and high CRP (18 when the lab reference is 0-5.00).
She told me to make an appointment with a rheumatologist as positive anti-SSA can be indicative of Sjogren’s and the wait was longer than I’d like, but from what I’ve heard, still pretty decent—I go in mid-June. However, since I made the appointment I feel like I’ve gotten significantly more symptoms. After researching Sjogren’s, some long standing problems that I’ve had make sense: I’ve had dry, burning, stinging eyes for YEARS requiring lubricating drops and have always chalked it up to screen time (phone/work), being tired, and dry environment. Nose and mouth dryness and periodic nosebleeds I’ve attributed to environment as well. GERD/esophogitis I’ve also chalked up to genetics because my mom has it as well.
But since April I’ve also started getting joint pain/achiness, worsening fatigue and lack of energy, lower stamina, and most recently has been an intense itching in my arms alternating with either pinprick pains, painful skin, or a sharp pain that radiates from my wrist to the middle of my forearm.
I guess my stress and worry is that this rheumatologist will either look at me and say “nope, nothings wrong with you” or that I will be told that there’s nothing that can be done. I always have a worry that people will think “Oh it’s all in her head” or “She’s complaining just to complain. She’s young enough and shouldn’t be feeling how she’s saying she does.”
Again, I’m sorry for the vent, but I hope that at least some of you in here understand my worries. If you’ve read this far, thank you, and I appreciate you 💜

Age:30 Female Race:South Asian/Mongolian.
https://ibb.co/27FFnJ3 https://ibb.co/qYGLn9Q https://ibb.co/ryRh9Hv
I'll try to keep this as short and concise as possible. Up until 6 months ago there was no issues at all with her health, however it started with dry red patches of skin on her hands that got bad enough to start bleeding.
The patches moved to her forearms, she has a circular dry patch on her upper thigh, she's experienced dryness 'down there' also.
A couple of times she has had a red rash show up across her face and bridge of the nose, and now just recently her ears are being affected quite badly, and they seem to be getting worse - dryness, burning and itchiness mainly around the back of the ears and the ear lobes have actually swelled up, a couple of her fingers swelled up and as well as her lips at times.
We've been to the doctors a handful of times who first suggested allergies, however anti histamines don't seem to help, we did an allergy test which had some interesting results such as a sensitivity to rice, but she still gets flair ups when avoiding anything she is sensitive too.
The last time we went to the doctors he said it maybe fungal so has told he have her canesten thursh treatment and told her to use nizoral shampoo on the body parts affected twice a week, but the redness around her ears is till spreading and getting worse.
I've had this suspicion for a while it could be an autoimmune issue so I mentioned this to the doctor who has sent her for a blood test - still waiting on the results of this.
Please any insight or help would be massively appreciated as I don't know what else we can do or try, she's been using highly recommended skin products to try and combat the dryness, which gives some temporary relief but she's still in pain and itching quite a lot.
Doctor has referred her to a dermatologist but the wait time is apparently upto 2 years and at the rate this seems to be getting worse her whole body could be covered by then. Ive attached pictures.
This is a cry for help as she was asking to go to a and e last night due to the pain but I know they don't really care unless it's life threatening, and I just don't know what else we can do to try get to the bottom of this. T. I. A

I am absolutely floored, this is a current, ongoing happening!
So, storytime. Back in college, I used to have a little cringe, but harmless, pastime: I liked to LARP in such a way that I would, when I felt like it, cosplay as some of my OCs, go to school, and ask my close friends to refer to me by the names of my OCs while I played those characters for the day (or days). I never asked my professors to do so, and if a friend didn't want to do so that day, that was fine--I never demanded or pushed boundaries, nor did I ever act outrageously. It was just acting and playing around, and I had a good time, as did my friends! Cringe? Yeah, kinda. Harmful to anyone? Nope! I never referred to it as DID--if anything, I always stressed to my friends and others who asked that it was NOT DID. I never consumed any mental health resources for people with the disorder, and I was never not in control of myself. Just a younger person having fun.
And then, I met Jenny (fake name). Jenny was someone I met in a class, who I clicked instantly with. She shared my sense of humor, we enjoyed the same shows and games, and she completely accepted my hobby of RPing my OCs. To me, I felt like I'd made another true friend, someone who really got me.
Jenny and I hung out together for over a year, almost every day after our classes, and she never once showed any signs or symptoms of DID. And, of course, she could have masked it--but she and I were so close that we'd confided in each other for other very personal things, and I felt that she would have confided in me about something so important by then.
That's why, when Jenny started prodding me more and more about my LARPing habit, something felt off. She asked, again and again, if I was SURE that it wasn't a dissociative disorder. Was I absolutely certain that I wasn't experiencing ANY amnesia? When I roleplayed, did I ever feel like I wasn't in control of the characters I was playing? When I got really quiet and didn't talk for a bit while we hung out, was I SURE I wasn't dissociating? (No, Jenny, I was just enjoying your company and the moments of peace I got to share with you!)
The other shoe finally dropped a few weeks later, after she pushed me about it one time too many. I asked her to just tell me what was going on--did she notice something about me and was trying to express concern? Was something wrong and she didn't know how to tell me? I begged Jenny to be honest, as my friend, as someone I'd grown so close to in all that time.
And that's when Jenny told me that SHE had DID. And, on top of that...she had DID, and she had formed alters of the original characters, MY original characters, that I larped as. And, on top of THAT? She wanted me to stop larping, and respect that her alters--I cannot stress this enough, my OCs, that I CREATED--felt uncomfortable with my playing their characters. My OCs. Went to her headspace. Because they felt more comfortable there.
I wish I remembered the conversation in more detail, but at that point, I think I genuinely had a moment of dissociation--my mind just checked out entirely. I was floored, I felt betrayed by Jenny, and I had no idea how to respond to her confession and request. I asked her in very plain terms why she'd never expressed symptoms before, how she could "split alters" of characters that only I had the full details of, if she had seen a doctor or gotten a diagnosis, and if there was any help I could give her in working through this, since something felt wrong with the behavior, but it didn't feel like DID. No. Jenny just insisted that it had always been this way. She had fictives, like Sans the Skeleton from Undertale and the Joker from Batman (this is its own individual can of worms), and they had apparently interacted with me multiple times without me knowing and had deemed me "safe". In that moment, I felt like I'd lost the friend I'd grown so close to. I felt, and still feel, extremely close to my OCs, especially having played their characters in real life, and to have Jenny just...take them from me, even in a fake way, broke my heart. So I left, and gradually, I stopped talking to Jenny altogether.
And yet...I did still follow Jenny on her social media accounts. I still cared about her, and I wanted to keep an eye on her in some way, just to make sure that if something happened to her I could still help. And Jenny's accounts were devolving rapidly.
All at once, her blogs talked about nothing but systems, she engaged in immense amounts of discourse on the subject, proclaimed a deep hatred of those faking the disorder, and referred to herself as a long-time system who had been diagnosed in early childhood. I would normally make a joke of "Who are you, and what have you done with Jenny?!" but, well... A little on the nose, that.
Jenny created a carrd with pages and pages about her alters--STILL MY OCs, who I had tons of public posts about!!!--with not just the details I wrote about them, but new, Jenny-original material with added backstories, trauma, and their roles in the system. My head was spinning. I watched, again and again, as she and her "alters" (my OCs, I can't stop stressing this) made reply after reply of arguing with "system fakers" online, and even posting vague, indirect shade about a friend who abandoned her in her time of need after she finally confessed to them about her DID. Hmmm... I wonder who that could have been?
I cut Jenny out of my life after that, and unfollowed all of her social media. It just wasn't worth the stress and sadness. I also pretty much stopped my hobby of cosplaying--the joy was gone from it at that point--and moved primarily to writing and posting my works on my writing accounts. But over the years, I'd still think about Jenny from time to time and wonder how she was, if she was okay, if she'd given up the faking at a point...
Color me surprised when today, unprompted, a post appeared on my social media that was shared by someone I follow, that was written by Jenny. A detailed, in-depth argument written by her and my OCs-turned-alters about some DID discourse (keeping vague to avoid others searching it up) that had countless lies about her own disorder! Years later, Jenny was still using my original material to fuel her online discourse! And what's even worse? When I checked her account, she'd gone as far as to take even more of my characters from writings I'd posted in the years since we stopped speaking, and had them "form as alters" as well. Years later, and Jenny is still so out of touch that she's continuing to steal my work all while never speaking to me.
I'm not going to bother revealing her faking or calling her out. It wouldn't be worth the toll it'd take on me. But damn if I can't laugh about every posts she's made and watch from a distance as she continues to dig her hole. Go on, Jenny! Let's see which character you'll take from me next!
Now that I've found this sub, I would love to hear if anyone else has experienced something similar to this. I finally feel a little less baffled having seen the people here call out these behaviors, and it's nice to finally have that comfort after all this time. And nice to have somewhere to cringe about the mind-bending reality that is someone telling me to stop using my original creations! Thanks for reading all this if you did, and I hope it's cringe enough to feel fitting here, hahaha.

This is a sequal to u/uktabi's Yulpa GF one shot, since he seems to LAZY to make a sequel. (that's a joke, god I'm so tired its almost 3am as I write this god fucking dammit why did i do this to myself)
He was originally inspired by u/FrostedScales' art., (God, please make a cover for this I want one so fucking baaaaaaad)
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I make my way into my house, a small part of me is hoping for relief from the harsh Savannah heat. Only to be brought back to my unpleasant reality of my house being just as hot and dry as the outside.
Ugh, why do I willingly live in this hellish place without AC?
I hear mewing and tapping hooves getting closer, a small blood red calf comes running towards me and runs circles around me. I extend my free hand and she readily forces her head into it, wrapping her tongue, upper and lower lip around it to return the gesture of connection. The barbs irritate my skin, but she's old enough now not to unintentionally draw blood.
I look down at the pleading eye, happy to see me again.
Ah, right. While I'm in hell she's in paradise, I guess I’ll have to suck it up for her.
I give her a closed lip smile and rub her ears.
“Hi honey, how was school?” She inflates her nostrils and begins to talk to me in learned English. It is… unsettling how accurately she can mimic almost anyone with only her nose. I am reminded of that fact as she speaks in my voice.
“Good, bunny lunch was.” I forced down an indignant laugh at the child's broken grammar. It seems Yulpa are able to understand words, but grammar doesn't seem important to them. I remember how off puttingly dense their spoken language is, they can communicate in infra sound over vast distances. Their phrases were spoken in single words, so a single “word” was a bit of a conversation. Like “Over the river” or ”up the tree is food.”
It was insane how dense their language was.
“Do you know if mom is back?” The little head in my hand nodes while still wrapped around me.
“Garden she eating is.”
I rub her head one more time before I make my way out the back door. The child quickly scampered off to do who knows what.
Out in the back I see her, draped in golden jewelry, with a well maintained main, green cloth and jewels to accentuate her natural deep red coat. She was laying down with what looked like roughage in her maw. She was absentmindedly chewing and staring off into space.
I walked over and rested myself against her side, I let her breathing rise and lower me. Being in the presence of such a large person really made me feel how insanely varied our body masses were. Despite being married and … constituting it, we had to sleep in separate beds, lest she roll onto me and I die of suffocation or all my bones breaking.
I absentmindedly picked some grass and twirled it around. “So, what's wrong?” She rolled her eyes towards me.
“Hungry.” She spoke in perfect English, I looked down at the grass I began to weave together.
“You need to get the cure.” She raised her massive head ever so slightly. “No, betrayal, life lived one way. Too late, already sacrificed too many.” She blows out her nose.
I grab more grass and weave it into the mass I was creating. “I thought I was too old, set in my ways to be married when we met. But now look at us.” I point to the child in the window clearly talking to someone on the home computer. “I’m glad you hunted me, forced me into this. If you didn't I'd still be a lonely S.O.B. jacking it to venlil stuff right now.”
She flicks an ear. “I wanted sacrifice YOU.“ She spoke.
I smirked as I continued to weave. “Yeah but ya didn't. Cause I’m just so sexy!!!”
I can feel a ruble as she laughed, I didn't notice the twitching of her neck mussels as she swung her head over to slap my head with her upper lip. “Ow!!!” I screamed at the surprising strength of the dexterous lip.
I will never get used to how she can hold me like a rag-doll with just her lip. Nor do I want to.
As I nursed my wounded pride I placed the straw hat on her head. “Besides, this is a better use for the hay than causing you pain.”
She breathed out sharply and made a sound only a multi-ton mammal can produce.
“Okay, me get cure.”
I smiled and rubbed her ears, she adjusted the hat I made for her and rested her head on the ground once more.
​
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**\*
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She seemed antsy as she rocked back and forth, she was making a loaf of herself on the ground. But she could still reach up to my face with her lips as I sat down in a chair beside her.
The waiting room of the Xeno walk-in clinic reminded me more of the vets as species of every size and shape sat in chairs meant for humanoids, or sat on the ground or in perches or, rarely, species specific chairs. Though they were a rarity, a luxury whose expense was used for the most populous non-human species in the area.
Most of which were in a separate waiting room. I saw a family of Farsul enter it, opening the door to the KolSul wing of the clinic. Most everyone in the office instantly scowled when the mother and her pups walked through. They got both the separate wing and specialty chairs as they were by far the most populous Xenos on earth. Thanks to resentment building to massive levels all across the S.C. pushing them here.
I ran my hand through her main, careful to not undo any braids or tug any of her excessive adornments.She was still shifting this way and that as we waited to be called on. I spied a venlil with a deep scowl near the door of the separate wing, he seemed to be wearing a coat. Something highly unusual for his species, especially in this climate.
“Hello uh, we are not sure you… should be seeking care here.”
I was jolted out of my observations by a young farsul attendant addressing me.
“What?” She seemed to stammer.
“We, uh, are a xeno clinic, we specialize in ailments for non humans. Since we are on a human majority planet, human specialty clinics are open here. They can give you much better focused care."
I stared at the young farsul for a few moments, I studied her nervous stance. She seemed to resemble a great Pyrenees breed of dog. I continued to stare for a couple of seconds, enough to make the awkward situation even worse before I shook myself out of it.
“Oh, uh, I’m not here to receive care, my wife is.” I run my hand through her main and look down at her. This is the most nervous I've ever seen her in all my years with her. “She recently got the cure injection and is here to test it out in case something goes wrong.”
The farsul then takes on a deeply confused expression, snapping her head between me and her in quick succession. “...You two… are married?”
I smile and straighten my back and respond in the most enthusiastic voice I can muster. “Yep!!!”
She continued her confused expression before resigning herself. “...Alright then, I’ll get her tested… just follow me.” She turns as she reads our file, we were heading to a farm outside of town to test her on some authentic meat. As we exited the office I tapped her shoulder. “By the way, I saw a venlil by the Kolsul section door, I think is planning something bad.”
She took on a look of annoyed apathy, as though it was a daily occurrence. “Oh, him. Don't worry security is on their way to search him, you'd be surprised how many expats from Scalga we get.”
She rubbed the back of her head and I could barely make out something she whispered. “Not nearly as weird as a human yupla couple, Jesus Christ.”
​
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**\*
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There, the object of my fearless and terrifyingly powerful wife's hesitation. A single skinned chicken leg, sitting on a metal table. The farsul nurse was making superficial vital checks on her as she stared at the drumstick.
Her lips were curled under her chin.
“Common honey. It's not going to bite you.” I say to comfort her. She glances at me with a look of I don't want to do this, why did i let you convince me to do this onmygodi’mgoingtosacrificeyouyousonofabit-
Her simultaneous death stare/ pleading eyes were pulled away as the farmer spoke at us.
“Eat it and get off my property, I got enough animals to take care of. Don't need two more.” He pointed to my wife and the farsul nurse, they both gave him a scowl as he turned back into his house.
She gently unrolls her lips and tentatively brings out her barbed tongue and wraps it around the drumstick. She brings it into her mouth and I hear a series of slow crunches.
The farsul nurse looks over at her medical doodad as she chews.
“Hmm, it seems everything is in order, the cure has taken and she is handling the meat fine. Just call our clinic if she seems to be having-”
My focus was pulled away from the nurse as I saw my wife's eyes light up from the taste. She looked at the ground at the pecking chicken that was so near. I could hear her imitate the clucking of the chicken, I saw it shoot up and looked confused. Before my wife coils it in her tongue and quickly brings it into her maw, I hear crunching again and a loud gulp. She looks around at the pens and she spies a pig.
She stalks towards it and I can hear her imitating the pigs, she steps over the fence and quickly grapples the approaching pig and bites down hard on its head. I can see her tongue quickly strip the skin off as her lips dig in with their own bards to force the corpse up and into her mouth.
I stare in shock at the display, by this time the other pigs notice the smell of blood and my wife devouring one of their companions and they quickly run to the farthest corner of the pen.
Before I know it the corpse is gone, she licks her lips and walks back over to us.
“-mitochondrial flux drive. As long as that looks good over the next week you should be all set!”
“I , uh, she ate a pig! D-did you see that?” I point to my wife cleaning herself of the mud of the pen.
'Yes, you'd be surprised how suddenly ravenous former omnivores get when they get their appetites fulfilled for the first time, heck I remember I ate a guinea pig when I got cured I was so hungry!’
I wave my arms about. “SHE ATE AN ACTUAL PIG AND YOUR NOT ONE BIT IMPRESSED OR SCARED???”
She turned her gaze to my wife, who was currently spying yet another pig in the corner. “I’ve seen yulpa do it before, trust me, get used to her eating vast amounts of meat.”
I looked at the simultaneously nervous and unimpressed Farsul. I was still reeling from my wife's actions, but decided to deal with them another time. “O-okay”
“Good, now I'd suggest you get her to not eat another. The farmer will definitely notice two pigs missing.” She begins to laugh in her throat. “Heh, I guess he’ll have two less animals to take care of after today heh.”
As we rode back to the clinic my wife was fast asleep in a food coma. The way she just… ate that thing so fast… I think I have to worry about being eaten now. It felt… oddly exhilarating, like when she was still trying to convince herself to sacrifice me all over again.
I think I might have a problem.

Hello guys.
I have been dealing with dry VR (just swelling turbinates, no other symptoms) for over a year now. Many of us think this is caused by a deviated septum, that's what I heard from an ENT too. Now, the funny thing is, a slightly deviated septum is actually a normal septum

About 70% to 80% of people have a septal deviation noticeable to an examiner

source
So it is normal not to have a perfectly straight septum and sounds super unlikely this can be the cause of the swelling turbinates. Nevertheless, it will make the condition worse due to the further airflow restriction. The thing is it is not the root cause of the problem.
Often times people dealing with this shitty condition say it started after an infection (cold / flu / Covid). There were also stories of excessive smoking or mucosa damage. Based on these as well as everything else that I heard, I believe the dry VR among healthy individuals (no underlying conditions) comes from a local nerves damage.
This would explain why the nasal steroids do nothing (they will not heal the nerves) and the surgery only provides a temporary relief (a few years if you are lucky). The turbinates are reduced so you don't feel the congestion, but the nerves keep being overreactive so the problem comes back in the future when the turbinates regrow.
In contrary to the wet VR (runny nose, sneezing, PND etc), I have not heard a single story of the dry VR disappear after a few years, moving to a different country or anything else. Dry VR is just always there, some days are better, some days are worse, but it is always there. This makes me think that the damage is irreversible and the key to deal with this problem is trying to avoid the triggers.

First/Previous
Since I knew there was a time before, I’ve wanted it, but that was child’s hope; even as a boy I wanted a dream. I wanted some divine being to enter from heaven and tell us all how it should be, but that wasn’t something I could ever count on—of course. Is there a god? I think so. I’ve seen those things and if they exist, then surely there’s a maker on the other end of it—god made both the light and the dark if the word’s to be believed and all we can hope for is a glimpse of the former. Even for a second.
The streets were soaked with blood and so many artillery rounds were fired into the sky—many I witnessed missed Leviathan—that I forgot what silence was like (not to mention the screams and there was a lot of that).
In the scrambling, I found I was reentering deeper into Golgotha and that wasn’t good. There was the ever-present thought that Maron was around every corner; the man had haunted my thoughts for longer that he should have and every time it was like an overwhelming force. It was simple enough after all, he was a piece of the past, a piece I could theoretically reach out and touch and that was what kept me to him.
In the fray of bolting citizens, I pressed myself to the exterior of a wall—I’d neared the stairs which once led to my apartment—and I kept out of the way of those that mindlessly went; some of those which rushed from the onslaught were those afflicted with skitterbugs and many of them either hobbled on blackened legs or—and this was rare—comrades or family helped to carry those which could not carry themselves. It was a baffling sight. A man carried a woman like a child (her toes had fallen off and her legs were black to the knees) and though he strode on with her, his own boots were caked with a mixture of blood and earth. An older girl led a young boy from the whirlwind of dust which was kicked up in the square; the boy’s eyes were whited, and his hands were curled to his chest, discolored. People, whatever duality there is, cared. There was not a drop of the apathy I’d learned and encouraged in myself.
I chewed like a mad dog through my bindings, and it was of little use; I yanked at the cord which secured my hands together and received rope burn in return. “Bitch!” I cussed the thing, but the flames in the sky were so loud, the bangs and vibrations from the artillery consumed all so it was like yelling in a barrel. I swung my hands out in front of me, feeling useless and felt a sudden urge to try again. I bit into the cord and repetitively motioned my jaw against the pressure of the cord, like I was going to saw through it with my teeth. Ha! Another yank is what brought my left hand free, but not without tearing a triangle of skin away from my wrist.
The cord dropped to my feet, and I looked around; a woman brushed past me, nearly toppled over my foot and I caught her by the wrist before she went head-over. She violently thrust from my grasp and screamed something at me. Another bout of flames burst from Leviathan’s maw as it circle-dove overhead. The heatwave from the blast exploded across my face so that I recoiled from the sky itself till I was on the ground, and I pushed myself from the earth and ran half dog-like from my place there at the wall. Where? It was hard to say where when every person that touched-by seemed to send me in another direction; in the madness, it was impossible to tell my course.
With time and effort, I found my way to the opening where the hydro towers were, three pillars which rose above Golgotha’s skyline, each one a testament to human resilience—engineers laborers toiled untold hours under Lady’s father to construct them. The hydro towers exploded into rubble as Leviathan slammed into them. Rock rained down as cutting shards and destructive boulders. A man lay beside my feet where he'd been pinned by the onslaught—white concrete kept him there by his chest—he gasped for air and blood already formed around him. In a moment, I looked away at the dying man, his half-whited eyes bulging at me. Meat hung from the left side of another man’s face as he cradled his head in his hand and moved like he was stoned and sat among the stomping feet; he slumped into the spot he sat and did not move till others came by him in a hurry and he simply fell onto his side like a toy animal.
The screams were too much. I looked to the towers, the nubs which had broken away like bad teeth against the red sky, and whole people fell alongside the rubble, limbs and showers of blood and Leviathan latched atop the towers and rocked its massive body so that the structures slipped directly from their foundations and tumbled over like pins. I ran and again there was nothing but chaos, nothing but mind-numbing wilder thoughts—it was grim and there wasn’t a place for coherency; it was all snaps of images.
In the mess of bumbling limbs, I pushed through to the hall of Bosses and there were people there already, rushing the stairs; the ground shook and I assumed it must’ve been the towers. The things demolished all in their path, and briefly, I saw the ramshackle structures which normally stood in their shadows come slanting over and people leapt from those places too and landed poorly and there was a cacophony of tremors through the earth—it felt as though hell should open.
The steps at the base of the hall were flooded and it was a fight to climb them as legs came high up from ahead and swiped at those behind and I kept my hands ahead of me to block whatever foot may come my way.
Wall men stood ready with their rifles at the tops of those steps and fired their weapons indiscriminately into the crowd. Bodies, big and small, piled atop the steps after a brief bullet dance and it came that I wasn’t only climbing stairs, but corpses; the warmth of their flesh as I clawed ahead remained and blood fog hung in the air. That grouping of wall men, casually lined before the doors of the hall were overtaken and they disappeared, their rifles cackled and came alive with muzzle flashes and the animal hands of the horde brought them to ground.
Us, the horde, funneled through those front doors and for a moment, in the thick walls of the hall, the outside world audibly disappeared; the blood and dust remained, but it was quieter save the shuffling feet and cusses of passersby I was carried deeper.
Those that worked the underground went quickly and I followed, and those ignorant followed for the sake of survival and it was not long till we stumbled into the Boss’s lair. With room, people dispersed like water through the tunnels and found dark recesses to tend their wounds or mourn whatever was lost and the explosive open air had been fully replaced by the quiet black oppressive mumbles of people taking stock of all those that had died. And all those that would. Every few moments, the walls shook, and dust fell from the ceiling fixtures.
A few haggard folks moved to the doorway which led to the damp room which led to the kitchen, and they slammed the door shut and latched it and began to check adjacent rooms for things to barricade the way.
“Stop!” said a man in the dim flickering underground light—I was surprised to see the man was me, “Leave it open! Others might need help.” I retraced my steps to the small faction that’d gathered there at the doorway. “You can’t just let them die out there. Let them in.”
“Shut up!” a skinny girl with her hair pulled back on her malnourished skull spoke gruffly; she choked, coughed—dust clung to her clothes—she’d been near the collapse of the hydro towers if I guessed. “Step off, or I’ll—
“Or you’ll what?” I shouted.
The girl put up her fists, two lumpy stones, and in stupid response I closed the distance between us. With speed, her fist met my nose, and I stumbled back on my heel.
Without hesitation, I brought up my own hands and landed a blow to her stomach. She craned forward, gasped on repeat, and took a knee.
Blood wet my upper lip, and I wiped it away with my forearm.
“Move,” I said to the others by the door; there were two: a woman and a boy that was nearly a man.
The boy charged headstrongly, attempted a kick and I easily shoved his small frame against the tunnel wall; the hard metal sounded a meaty thud against his body and the woman launched unseen at me, raked her nails down the back of my neck, and tore at my collar. I kept a forearm to the boy’s throat and rocked his head with my free elbow. Once he wept and spit red, I let him go; the boy slid into a sit and I spun on the woman, shoving her away. My left leg began to give, and I used the wall over the boy’s head as support. I swung at her with a wild claw and my fingertips grazed her nose as she fell away to the opposite wall.
“Stop it!” I shouted.
She launched at me, and my leg gave out under her tackle, and I stumbled half-on the boy, my feet kicked helplessly at her, and the boy regained his composure and began to crawl towards me. We wrestled and then the girl I’d knocked in the gut rejoined the fray. I was done. They had me pinned and spat curses at me and took turns shoving my head into the floor.
“You’re going to get us killed,” shouted the woman, “Are you stupid?”
I grinded my teeth and tried to throw them off; I was overpowered and easily pressed down again.
The overhead lights flickered with another deep earthy vibration and the trio let go of me in an instant—I came up swinging my arms like crazy and as I went to kneel before propelling myself to stand, a hand rested on my shoulder. I spun on the hand and was met with the black mouth of a 9mm pistol—that froze me fast.
The owner of the weapon—a wall man by the look of her fatigues—motioned for me to stand and I did. Her eyes were far off and nervous and the metal shook in her outstretched hand. “Against the wall!” she barked at us; she was small-framed and youthful but full grown, and I could easily push her out of my way if not for the pistol. We went to the wall, and she moved to the door while keeping the gun drawn on us. She watched us and glanced at the door. “It’s latched! Who latched the door?” She asked.
No one spoke. The other three looked to their feet; I initially refused to rat, and snorted blood—my nose throbbed and by touch I could tell it swelled already.
“Well? Why’s it closed?” she asked the question more like a desperate child than a person with control. “C’mon!” The 9mm rolled limply on her wrist as she said the word, like she was attempting to draw the confession from us with the motion.
“There’s an attack. They’re killing everyone,” said the boy.
The girl and woman nodded.
“Who?” asked the wall man.
“Demons, muties,” said the boy, “Big stuff. Everyone’s dying.”
The ground shook as if to emphasize his point.
The wall man studied us for a moment, lingering last on me and for the longest and she took a long breath and let the sigh out dramatically slow. “I know you,” she motioned at me with the gun, “You’re that maniac. The one that tried to murder everyone.” Her eyes fell then returned and she put her weight on the door while maintaining the barrel of the gun eye-level in my direction.
“I ain’t gonna’ hurt anyone,” said. I briefly thought about smiling but decided that’d look worse.
“How do I know that?” she asked.
“Yeah,” said the boy, “He tried to kill us already!” His voice cracked with adolescence; the blood I’d spilled from his mouth coated the front of his holey shirt.
The trio nodded all together—everyone agreed that I was a maniac killer.
“They latched it,” I said, “Cowards.”
A thump came from the other side of the door which frightened the wall man and she leapt from the spot she’d leaned—it took several full seconds to realize her gun went off; there was a flash, and my ears rang. I stumbled from the knot of people and slunk a couple of feet from the space by the door. The girl—the one I gut-punched—collapsed to the floor while holding the right side of her face. The women crowded the girl, panicked, the boy sprinted past me and disappeared deeper into the underground, and the wall man stood there with a wretched blank expression. There was a long moment which hung in the air; I could not hear and then it came back, and it was the girl’s screams I heard first.
Upon stepping to them, I saw the prone girl had been shot just so—through the cheek. Her eyes rolled from likely spinal damage; whatever the angle, it seemed to have ripped through irreparable nerves and she bled a lot. There wasn’t any hope for that girl.
“Well,” I said to the wall man, “Finish it. No reason to make her suffer.”
The girl on the ground writhed unnaturally and caterwauled while the woman by her side attempted to calm her.
Greater became the sound of the belabored hands on the other side of the door; then a hollow-sounding gunshot came from the other side; were they shooting the door? Or each other? Another round—human screams.
The wall man shook her head. “I didn’t mean it. It was an accident.”
I tried to hold the wall man’s gaze, but she didn’t seem able.
With speed, I moved to the wall man, reached for the gun which dangled helpless by her side—her initial response was to flinch, pull the weapon from my reach; our eyes locked and I clenched my jaw. She could’ve killed me. There wouldn’t have been surprise from me if she had.
She let go of the gun and I nodded, and she nodded and the woman kneeling by the girl threw herself over her. “Please,” protested the woman, “Please don’t!”
With the aid of the pistol, I was given space, and nothing was said. I mentally prepared myself for the ringing which accompanied gunfire in small spaces, even tilted my head away with my free palm up and took aim and the girl jerked once then went still.
With the ringing going and sound returning, the drumming on the door returned, as well as the quiet weeps of the woman; she crawled to the wayside of the hall, pressed her back against the wall and rested her chin on her knees with her arms around her shins. She didn’t rock to or fro and hardly made any noise at all. But the small and quiet sobs remained faintly there.
First/Previous
Archive

I am a 25 year old male. I am 6’2” tall and weight 185 lbs. I have a skinny athletic build. I do not smoke and I rarely drink. I do work around a lot of powders though.
I currently have what I believe to be a sinus infection. My mucus is currently clear, but at one point it was slightly a white color.
My symptoms are watery eyes, slight pain on my face where my nose meets my cheek, a stuffed up nose that can get runny, my ability to smell is impacted, and fatigue.
I have been experiencing this for just about three weeks. I have limited my exercise to light workouts or no workouts at all. I just started doing a nasal spray 24 hours ago, and I have a little vapor inhaler that I sniff when my nose gets stuffy.
What can I do to treat this? I am not a wealthy person and a doctors visit is expensive. Can I just buy over the counter medication?

First/Previous
“How’d you think that was going to go?” asked a voice from the other side of the door.
I lay on the bunk and stared at the ceiling; my head throbbed. The place where I’d been grazed stung whenever I touched my fingers to it. A bullet had—by whoever’s grace—scraped my scalp and traced a line from the far corner of my right eyebrow. It'd only been three days and it still caused pain. No doctors came and I was certain there would be infection—if not plain infection, then it could always be the worser: skitterbugs. I ached still. I had never fully recovered, not like how I should have.
The day of anger, as I’d begun to think of it in my mind, had caused no great ruckus beyond a few dead men. Two were Bosses, but who knew if they’d announce that as casually as they’d surely announce my execution. Perhaps they’d string me up alongside thieves. A good thief and a bad. What a riot; I deserved no thieves, of course.
What was I? Some great hero? Some idiot was more likely. I wanted misery to befall those that perpetrated it themselves and there I was, more miserable. Perhaps the wrath in my heart came from some mutation; the demon Mephisto resurrected me (so said the demon) and I’d begun to accept it. It was the reason for my poor state, surely, and the more I thought on it, the more I believed it was true; it felt true right down to my bones. The truth hurt or it was age and I rose from the cot I lay on; I’d been detained in a room beside the one I’d visited Andrew many months prior. They’d starved me, rattled the door to try and frighten me, and they’d wasted water on my head to keep me from good sleep.
I did not respond to the voice from the other side of the door and the object rattled in its frame and the voice came again, this time angrier, “Really? How did you think that was going to go? Crazy bastard! Thought you’d put the hurt on the Bosses? Thought you’d kill us at our worst? First, it’s that explosion. You have something to do with that? No! First, it was Harold’s daughter running off!” The voice on the other side of the door grew with mirth as it did with anger. “I’d seen you around town a bit. Thought the Bosses always liked you. Huh. Boss Harold mentioned you at his parties and said how you were a smart fella’, a good fella’, and there you killed him. Stone cold.” The man which spoke was a jailor that tortured me in those dreamlike days I spent locked in their prison, and he seemed personally affronted. “So first it’s the explosions; steam or dust rose out of cracks in the ground you know—some thought hell was rising up, but the Bosses put those thoughts to bed. God, what’s it with the likes of you? The explosions and now I’ve lost an eye and its because of the skitterbugs. You probably brought that on!” The voice muttered and then the door shook in its frame again, seemingly from a hard kick. I wished I could see the face of the man throwing his tantrum. “Can’t wait to see you hang.”
“So, I’ll hang?” I asked the door. There was a long silence, and I was uncertain if I’d pitched my voice enough for the man on the other side to hear me. I opened my mouth to ask, “So-
“You’ll hang.” The man on other side seemed to knock his knuckles against the surface of the door. “Or you’ll die here.”
“What’s Maron said?”
“Don’t you worry about him.”
“What’s he said?”
“Said you’d probably appreciate the punishment that we’d put on you. Said you’re a sick man. Said you like speaking with devils and people like you only find pleasure in such things.”
“So, I won’t hang?”
“Oh, you’ll hang, sir. You’ll hang if I need to do it myself with no one else. If not that, I’ll be sure to put you under one way or another. Accidents happen.” He chuckled. “Maybe you’d enjoy it, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever enjoyment you find in your tortures won’t compare to what ideas I have.”
A long silence followed, and I watched dust motes dance in the air; the place was stagnant and even a breath caused a shift in their glide. I closed my eyes and tried to remember a better time. I thought of Suzanne. I thought of Gemma. What a time to be alive. I thought of the movies, the books, the musical cartridges that sung of yesteryears. How unlucky I’d been, of course. Something had changed in me though and it was totally refreshing. Perhaps it was in realizing the evils of my brothers was that of a man and not some otherworldly force, or perhaps it was a push that came from years of terrible inconsistencies. All that living in the past and so it was. It didn’t matter—the past. I’d been so busy with it that I’d been in a constant state of unliving. I’d known that always, of course—something new had come.
“You dozing off in there?” asked the jailor.
“Nah.”
“Good. Stay awake or I’ll be forced to stay you awake.”
I’d been reborn with a rage, justified or otherwise, and it was felt all over. It was a wild compulsion. All that time and it had been me that was brought back.
The wound on my head throbbed and I prodded it with a finger and brought the finger away and examined the digit; it was dried well enough, and I did not smell infection nor were there any of the accompanying symptoms of a fever or hallucination. I was me, through and through. For now.
The door banged. I didn’t bother an answer and the door banged again.
“Who’s there?” I asked, surprising myself with the sarcasm.
“Why’d you do it?” asked the jailor.
“You wanna’ ask me about it now?”
“Tell me.” The voice on the other side of the door was serious entirely.
“Bah!” “Bah to you! Why’d you do it?”
“Is there a reason to explain myself? If you knew better the things I knew, would it get you to unlock that door and let me walk free? Would it change your mind even?”
The jailor caught a laugh before responding. “Can’t say it would.”
“So, what’s it that you want? You won’t understand me, and I don’t think I’ve got the energies of persuasion to try.”
“Try.”
“You like the Bosses?”
“They’re okay. Keep me in work anyway. Keep people safe.” I slumped forward onto my knees where I sat and placed my elbows on my knees and watched the crack at the base of the door on the other side of the prison cell. “What’s it matter if they keep you in work? Think they care about you anymore than what you represent?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, you keep riffraff down and they like you for it. I wonder if they know you. You ever get invited to the feasts they hold at the hall? You ever worry about your water rations? You ever wonder why it is that so few of the women or men invited to the hall return? Children too, now that I think of it. They’d call those captured criminals, I know. Those brothers—the sheriff is to blame too—they’re bastards. You know they are.”
“Is that so? What’s that make me? A bastard too?”
“By proxy maybe.” I dryly chuckled. “What’s it matter? What do you want outta’ me anyhow? Some gratification? Some confession—you’ve gotten that already, ain’tcha? Maybe a repentance? Why don’t you call one of those Bosses on down from their throne and have them here on the other side of the door so I can apologize? Or call Lady and I’ll get her to channel some message to the afterlife and I’ll plead for forgiveness. That what you want? Now I’m a bad man and I know it, but it ain’t for the reasons you believe. What you want is belief that there’s a man under the skin of the monster you’ve projected? No, I won’t shoo away your boogeyman for you. It can’t be done, not from me.”
“You talk big for someone in your predicament. I like how you talk so holier. Like you’re talking down on me. I just wanted to know what made you want to go on a mad-killing spree the way you did.”
“Mm.” I cupped my hands together; as it was, my left knee shot off with pain and I tried to massage it to little comfort and stretched it out straight from my body. “When violence keeps you bound, violence is necessary to free yourself. That’s all I’ll say about it. If you hang me, then hang me. Spill my guts out for the birds and put a sack over my head so you won’t be sick by my face.”
“You’re a mouthy pig.”
I listened to the jailor’s footfalls disappear down the hall and finally it was totally quiet and all I could hear was the throb on my head. Lucky or unlucky? No, it wasn’t luck. I’d been marked. I was the payment, and I knew the price. The demon had my soul. Whatever protection it afforded me, I intended on using.
The image of that room continued over in my mind, with the peasantry (that’s what I saw them as then) knelt in front of the Bosses and the wall men, with the intense blood-smell, with the surprise on Maron’s face. Billy’s face. There was still a part of me, however small, that wanted to plead with him to change his ways. That wasn’t the part that welled up in me then though. The piece of me that wanted to see him die was what took over. It hadn’t been Maron that fired his gun; he’d still been fighting with his holster. I’d only taken a step in through the door and a spray of gunfire from one of the wall men’s rifles exploded and I was sure I was dead because I fell, and my vision went white. They should’ve put me down then.
I didn’t come too fully until I had a few goons on me, hauling me upright roughly under my arms. Maron didn’t say anything at first and those wall men took over; they shouted that I was alive still and I felt a hot gun barrel against my cheek.
“Stop!” shouted Maron. The Boss Sheriff stepped forward with his stilted gait and looked me over thoroughly. The gun barrel fell from my cheek, but they held me still; it wasn’t like I planned on fighting. “You got uglier,” said Boss Maron, “Really ugly.” His left eye, afflicted by the skitterbug infestation, had gone dead white with only the faintest trace of an iris; it dribbled pus.
I held his stare to the point that my eyes watered—whether from anger or sorrow or both—and my muscles tightened like an animal threatening to pounce. It was a ridiculous display.
“Lock him up,” said Boss Maron.
So, I was locked up and those uncounted days I was mildly tortured: sleep deprivation, pummeling, and sometimes they spit on me. It could have been worse. I’d seen worse.
The cell was numbingly quiet, and I continued to massage my knee, continued in thinking about how investing so much thought with the past twisted any future of mine into a dismal satire.
I could not tell how long it had been without sunlight and the jailor returned (he was bulbous and fattened and old but very strong—it could be sensed in how he carried himself) pushed through the door this time with a tray of diced potatoes, steamed but cold, and a metal cup of water. He sat them on the floor, stared at the tray there with his one good left eye, and it was like I could read his mind as he looked at the food there. He could destroy it; he jerked from the tray without saying a word to me then disappeared behind the door he closed. The jailor remained there outside.
Pride swelled in me momentarily before I pushed whatever silliness that was and devoured the food and drank the clear water. If it was poison, so be it. If it was poison, then all the problems of the world would disperse.
Again, the jailor pushed in through the door and bent to remove the tray and I was struck by the immediate thought of strangling him. So, I tried and threw myself at the man.
My hands felt the scruff around his throat, and I pressed hard with my fingers on his Adams apple. He’d lurched forward to lift the tray and he immediately came up with force, throwing me off him; my nails raked his cheek as I scrambled for purchase. He took the metal tray in both of his hands and thwapped me across the head—it rang, and I was stunned while he lifted back his right hand in a swing. In the dizziness, I momentarily caught a glimpse of the holster on his left hip and reached out dumbly for the revolver there. A meaty smack could be heard, and I didn’t even feel it when his fist met my face the second time. My head rocked and I fought to look upright, and his hand came again, and I put up my own hand in return; it was pushed away, and he continued at me, muttering epithets he found useful.
Once he was heaving and spitting, he left me on the cot and directly before slamming the door, he mentioned something about violence and how if I liked violence so much that he’d show it to me.
I nursed myself to sitting right-up and though adrenaline kept the pain away, I felt my face bruising already. There was no way for me to inspect the welts his hands had left, but I could guess their places by touch and how they thrummed with my heart.
Two days passed, if I counted them by the visits from the jailor and then Maron made his appearance to me, and I was surprised to see him with a leather eye patch over his left eye; he seemed ill on his feet and the jailor, though the man was there, did not move to stop Maron from entering the room and relieving me of my prison. He and the jailor roped my hands together in front of my pelvis and I didn’t fight.
Boss Maron stank of infection and yellow oozed from beneath his eye patch and he kept his cowboy hat pulled snugly over both his ears and did not speak so jovially—there were no crude jokes at my expense. A warmth radiated off him. The Boss carried my shotgun with him but made no remark on it. He marched me from the prison, and I met daylight, and it burned my eyes while I stared up into the reddish sky. Dust scattered from the nearest portion of wall and caught on the wind till it was carried and disappeared overhead, and I briefly thought how nice it must be to fly.
Golgotha stirred as ever, and people spoke loudly and candidly as I passed them by. Words came my way from passing faces like, “You kissed the devil’s ass!” or, “You sure are a monster, look at you!” and Maron pushed me on with the gun at my back, and I wavered on my legs like I was without any control.
“Is it true?” asked Boss Maron, “Did you kiss the devil’s ass?” He tilted the shotgun casually on his shoulder and kept me ahead of himself. He was taking me to hang—and making a big deal out of it too. “I know how you like to speak to them. The demons. I know how you conspire with them. I told them all how you do. Now they know I was right.”
What a rotten town it was, and it smelled like it. The atrophied muscles and diseased infections of those fine folks emanated in the air, flies buzzed around my head, bloated and doubtlessly happy from whatever corpse they’d sprung from.
“Say somethin’,” said Maron.
“What do you want?” I asked, watching my footfalls, ignoring the screeches of those on the sidelines; he marched me through the runways, past the onlookers which saw me with faces of twisted hatred. The tension was palpable—I could feel the venom off the eyes of those that watched. Blood red eyes which judged carelessly.
“I want you to say it,” said Maron; I felt the nudge of the shotgun at my back again and I stumbled forward, caught myself, carried on, “I want you to admit it to me. You’re like a mutant, ain’tcha? No better than any other monster. I knew it all them years. I seen it.” We took an alley and cretins followed behind; wall men flanked Maron and on either side of the narrow stretch there were faces made even with the wall, pressed there like they were afraid to be involved.
“Whatever you say, brother.”
“Don’t,” hissed Maron, “Don’t even.”
“What?” I spat the word, “Afraid they’ll treat you differently if they all know how close we are?” I felt the gun barrel press against my back, and I yelped out the words, “Hey! He’s my brother! My baby brother!” The barrel jabbed me in the spine, and I spilled forward, catching myself on one of those nearby faces. It was an old woman. She shoved me from her, and I flailed across the ground after trying to catch myself with my bound hands. Dirt met my face and exploded around me. I laughed, blinking through the dust. I spit too. He couldn’t kill me. Whatever black magic there was in me—bequeathed by Mephisto—refused me death. Maron lifted me with the help of his wall men, pinching the coat around my throat with his fist. He shoved me on, and we continued.
“You smell that?” I asked Maron.
“Stop talkin’. You might not be a man, but you’ll die like one,” he said. The wall men around muttered, and we took the way to the front square; already there were looky-loos gathered, throngs of them not at all bashful to see the day’s line-up—it was just me. The platform was emptier and that was good (Frank, Paul, and Matt looked naked without their eldest brother). Those Bosses which remained looked drunk as they did for any other execution. It was a good day for it. Warm. The stink of the crowd was worse and as those gathered parted for my entourage, the warmth of them cloistered us like the blood of a wound.
Even through the vile aroma, the smell of rotted poultry rose like nothing else. “You don’t smell it then?”
The roar, a cacophony of the damned souls stolen, shook the ground and the air changed. A dragon—Leviathan.
Along the wall which old skeletal corpses hung against dried blood stains from hook-chains, men and women scattered the length of the parapets with their weapons. Gunfire came and one of those atop the wall shouted, “Artillery! Dragon! Big guns!”
There was fire in the sky and the creature circled overhead and its wings beat the wind like mad; those organic ropes that hung from its body took on horrid shapes with its movement in the high noon sunlight.
Screams filled the air as the square erupted into panic. I dove into the sickly crowd; among the loudness, the horses which were lined by the big door fought against their ties and bolted across the square. Arms and heads disappeared beneath those dashing hooves, and it was not long before people were trampling people and in a quick glance I saw the Boss platform came down in splinters as the horses rushes it. Blood slickened the feet of many as they rushed to the buildings adjacent the square—what a small protection that’d be against Leviathan. A wall man went stumbling over the wall’s ledge and his body met the ground beneath the hanging corpses and he didn’t get up.
In the wild fray, Maron fired the shotgun into the air, and I briefly thought of where the pellets might fall.
Finally, artillery fire came and put a hole in the creature. It wavered in the air, its head lurched downward like it might pierce the ground and it pulled its long neck back and blew flames across the buildings. The heat was immaculate. Rotted chicken filled my lungs.
“There’s more!” shouted a wall man above, “Running across the field.”
The crowd grew more enamored with escape; there’s no good way to say it—blood frothed around our heels as I was shoved through the avenues of elbows, rocking heads, plunging knees. I pushed on, shielding myself with my bound hands as well as I could. I kept my head as high, and felt scratches reach my throat—doubtlessly those which could not continue—nails and fists came from every direction. In the ephemeral madness, I too screamed and it did not stop until I spilled into an alleyway along the wall nearest the execution chains. I ran and tripped from the crowd, slid, and bit my tongue so thoroughly that my teeth clicked together though the tissue; my breath was knocked from me. My pants were wet from the viscera. Others too had found the opening and barreled past me. I went to my feet and panted thought the pain, through the twinge in my left knee. I took the walls for support and still, those which rushed past nearly knocked me from my feet.
Some poor child—a lean, bony-faced boy—fell in the rush and before I had a moment to reach out, he was gone. Whether he lived or not, I did not stop to know. The crunch of bones as more people spilled into the narrow stretch indicated the worst.
First/Previous
Archive

About three or so weeks ago, one absolutely random night I suddenly felt irritation in my nose and throat as if I was smelling smoke even though there was none around me.
At the time I thought maybe smoke is coming from the outside so I wrote it off as a singular irritation.
However, from that night on I have been having a very congested nose, sometimes runny and a very dry chesty cough that follows for a day or two. It seems to flare up the most in the evenings, especially the cough, and nothing helps. I had periods of fatigue, dizziness, brain fog too, but not persistent.
My nose gets blocked and then unblocked on and off again depending on which environment I'm in or if I'm sitting or standing.
I've never had allergies in my life and this happened very out the blue with no further symptoms.
I went to see my GP as I was getting worried about the cough - however all vitals came back good. Just one thing - very swollen inside of the nose.
He advised it might be sinusitis and prescribed a Mometasone Furoate Nasal Spray (UK) and antibiotics. I've been using the spray (albeit incorrectly as I've just found out on this page lol) but haven't touched the antibiotics yet as I doubt it is actually sinusitis. I have no fever, no cheek, forehead or head pressure - nothing. Just a blocked, runny nose, sneezing and the dry cough. And my nose insides do feel swollen, irritated and dry at this point - probably from all the blowing and nasal sprays (which I didn't know can actually dry it out more)
I've been going a bit crazy trying to understand what the hell is up. Thought it might be heart related even - but then I came across the definition of Non-allergic rhinitis and it seems to be fitting my situation the most.
Could it be it and is there any good relief for it in UK?
P.S. I have undergone a rhinoplasty back in 2019. Not sure if that could relate to anything so far later..

I recently (last week) got a case of what I think was sinusitis (self diagnosed) for the first time. I still am experiencing swelling in my right sinus.
I am concerned about a small bump that I can feel near my right cheekbone, towards my nose. I’m unsure what it is, but it seems like it could be near or within the area of my right maxillary sinus.
Is this possibly a nasal polyp that I should be concerned about??
I know I should probably go see a specialist, but since it is a Friday I would be grateful for any advice on the issue, as many testimonies online suggest urgent care or walk-in clinics might not be specialized enough to provide the correct diagnosis.
I’ll include more detailed account of my experience below, if it helps.
—————
My symptoms started with intense and sudden tooth pain, bad enough that I was unable to sleep. At first I thought the issue might be tooth related, but the pain was not specific to any tooth, which led me to believe my sinuses were the issue. I ended up taking 200mg Advil to try to get some sleep, but it was not sufficient for the pain, and I could only sleep for about 2 hours max before waking up with heavy congestion and pain.
The sinus pressure built up over the day, and I used a nasal rinse in hopes of relieving symptoms naturally. I ended up buying some Sudafed over the counter to relieve the congestion. This was very effective, however it did give me an intense headache and since it is a stimulant, would not be an option to help me sleep. I ended up only taking Sudafed this once. Again, I needed an Advil to sleep.
The next day, I felt extremely weak, along with some discoloration of mucus I was spitting out, I assumed it was my body fighting the infection.
I started a routine of sinus rinse into hot shower / steaming my face over hot water for 10 minutes twice a day, some apple cider vinegar and ginger tea in the morning to reduce inflammation, and Advil to sleep and give my body some rest to help recover and have seen an improvement in my pain.
However, I still have jaw tightness in my right side, as well as pressure under my right eye. I can also feel the swollen sinus while not on Advil, which seems to help with the inflammation.
I have also become somewhat dependent on Advil to function, as the pain is enough to prevent me from doing anything productive. I take one during the day to work, and one at night to sleep.
This has been on going for the last week, and I thought I might be on the road to recovery, but I noticed a small bump near my cheek, close to where my sinus would be.
I’m concerned this could be a nasal polyp, which apparently does not go away by itself. Doing some research on the topic, some online articles mention that I should avoid NSAIDs like Advil if I do have nasal polyps.
As I am essentially dependent on Advil to function, I’m becoming very concerned about this bump. I am also between jobs atm, and do not have health insurance.
My situation is generating a great deal of stress for me, which can’t be beneficial to my recovery…
If anyone has a similar experience or any advice to offer, it would be very much appreciated.

Hello everyone so recently iv noticed a triggered itch inside my nose(only one nostril). When I rub against my left side nose, it starts to itch like crazy. Almost an addiction itch like how when you get that satisfied feeling when using q tips from your ear BUTTTTT no matter how much you rub the itch, it doesn't stop. Trying to satisfy this itch even makes my body go full on freak mode and makes my eyes super watery and my nose runny and Constant sneezing. If this even allergies ?using a q tip I located the itch to be pretty deep inside my nostril. It's insanely uncomfortable when this itch gets triggered(by rubbing agsint my nose).

26 female. Major diagnoses: congestive heart failure as a result of illness (covid) from 2022.
Smaller diagnoses: chronic migraines, some mental illness.
I take a slew of meds for heart failure and depression/anxiety; I’ll provide a list if someone thinks it’s relevant.
May 15th, I started a dry cough. Symptoms worsened over the next few days (the usual: runny nose, sore throat, coughing horribly, fever, shortness of breath) until I finally went to the ER on May 19th. They said I had pneumonia and told me to come back on a hair trigger if I felt like I was getting worse. They administered doxycycline via IV and gave me two azithromycin pills; sent me home with a prescription for six more azithromycin to be taken once a day, along with a script for an albuterol inhaler.
That said…my dad had a nebulizer breathing treatment machine thing and tubes of albuterol for it. He hasn’t used it in a while so he sterilized it and gave it to me because I was having such a bad time trying to breathe that first week. I’ve done 3?4? treatments with it, one or two that first week (not anymore because I just never felt like cleaning and setting it up each time, I felt that bad), and 2 in the last two days when my mom forced me to bc by the end of the day I’m still struggling to breathe.
I really should have gone back to the ER, because I DID get worse in those few days after leaving the ER, but I did not want to be admitted to the hospital after what happened last time. Looking back I wish I had; these last couple weeks have SUCKED.
I’ve since improved, but still been coughing pretty frequently and having a runny nose. This entire time I’ve been coughing up mucous that’s varied from clear to yellow. I’ve also been sneezing up very thick yellow or white mucous.
This morning, after doing an albuterol breathing treatment last night, I coughed up more mucous. For the most part it was clear, but I saw some flecks of blood, which was odd. A little bit later I coughed so more up and there was still some blood flecks. No big deal, whatever, I’ve been able to breathe pretty well today.
However, it’s late now and I just coughed up so more mucous with a significantly more prominent blood spot in it. The mucous is pretty obviously pinkish red with a couple of flecks of bright blood. It was significant enough that I could taste the iron when it came up.
Should I be worried or is this normal? The ER doc didn’t really tell me what to expect as far as recovery goes; I think he expected me to come back…

Context: Male, 19, 5’10” about 120lbs. I’ll preface that I just finished moving a week ago and have been sick with common cold like symptoms (cough, runny nose, slight sore throat), and I haven’t been good on exercising this past year or so, so my body is on the weaker side
About 2 or 3 days ago I started getting pains in my lower right abdomen that have lasted pretty consistently since then. They’re sharp, almost cramp like pains. I’ve dealt with abdominal pains for years so usually I think nothing of it when I do get pain, but i’ve always heard that pain in your bottom right abdomen is linked to appendicitis. It doesn’t make a difference when I walk, press down on the part where it hurts or when I press down on the other side, and I don’t have a fever, nausea/vomiting, or loss of appetite which I heard all were signs of appendicitis. There are some instances where i’ll be positioning myself though and it does hurt a tad more.
I’ve told my parents about my symptoms, and they’ve reassured there’s nothing wrong with me, but i’m a hypochondriac and can’t help but worry i’ve got some serious issue any-time I get a little bit of pain so I can’t help but ask for an outsider opinion.

Does anyone have any tips for living with symptoms but no official diagnosis (or support from family/healthcare providers)?
I have listed my symptoms below and explained a bit of my story under spoilers, as to not detract from the general request for advice, only provide context.
Symptoms: - severe joint pain in my hands, fingers, toes, knees, hips, shoulders, and my jaw - joint stiffness in my knees, elbows, shoulders, fingers, and hands - the combination of joint pain and stiffness in my shoulders has made it so I cannot eat or cook without having to intermittently change hands - right inner elbow has been consistently swollen with a sac of fluid for over 7 years now - can't carry a 5lb bag of sweet potatoes for less than five minutes in the grocery store without getting tired and dizzy - will experience discolouration and numbness in my hands and feet. If I sit down for more than twenty minutes, my feet will start turning purple--my friends in school used to call me corpse feet (affectionate, I hope). My hands can discolour while I'm shopping for groceries. If I get cold my fingers and toes will turn purple then white and lose all feeling. - my feet will go numb, without warning, while I'm driving. It doesn't matter if I have been driving for twenty minutes or an hour, I risk my feet going numb and making it difficult to gauge pressure on gas/brake - I get severe nerve pain in my arms that travels up my arm, not down. No inciting movements or actions that trigger the nerve pain. It has happened while I was driving, cooking, stirring a vinaigrette for my grandma. - chronic severe chest pain that has led me to think I was having a heart attack over seven times (if I ever had a heart attack, I'd probably just think "it's just the pain" and miss it). It gets worse when I take a deep breath and can make me feel short of breath - joint stiffness in the mornings and evenings especially - muscle pain... everywhere - sun sensitivity that causes severe migraines, rashes on my arms (and on my cheeks), and fatigue. I cannot be out in the sun for more than twenty minutes without feeling nauseous and wanting to hide in the dark like a vampire (cravings for blood, thankfully, isn't one of my symptoms) - sores in my mouth - severe fatigue (waking up feels exhausting in itself) that can leave me nearly falling asleep at restaurants with my family and struggling to keep my eyes open while driving - brain fog - sore and dry eyes - all of my joints pop (even my jaw) - blurry vision as if under water, no warning before it happens - vertigo - weakness (cannot grip stuff very well and have struggled to open ziploc bags while trying to give my cats treats) - ears ringing - low grade fevers (had a weekend where it wouldn't drop below 40 degrees Celsius but it tends to stick around 37-38 degrees Celsius) - positive ANA of 1:160 with coarse speckled pattern
My Story:
I have had joint pain, swelling, and stiffness since I was 14 years old. I'm 25 now. Most of my symptoms I have been experiencing for almost a decade now. I have a family history of rheumatoid arthritis and have had a doctor test my blood for rheumatoid factor but it always came back within regular range. Two years ago, I tested positive for ANA after my chronic illness caused me to lose my job. It was first 1:160 then 1:80 when we tested again a couple months later.
The world then shut down due to Covid and I had numerous doctors tell me they wouldn't see me unless I tested positive for Covid. I understand. It was an incredibly difficult time for healthcare workers.
My symptoms, however, did not care about the overworked healthcare system and continued to interfere with my day-to-day life.
I have had an MRI done to check my spine and neck, confirming there's nothing pinched that would be causing my nerve pain. The doctor ended up telling me it might be because I was born premature and I'll just have to live with it.
I have had ultrasounds and a CT scan done on my swollen elbow and never heard anything back which I'm choosing to take as "we didn't see anything alarming".
Now I am scared to drive alone due to my symptoms and live in constant pain. I have tried to see doctors about this and have been told "you're too young to have these issues" or "it's probably depression, you're too young for it to be anything else"... I finally got into a new doctor and they sent a referral for me to see a rheumatologist, especially given my previous positive ANA test.
Rheumatologist wanted updated bloodwork. All my bloodwork came back in normal range. My doctor point-blank told me "there's nothing wrong with you, your blood is fine, a rheumatologist will not help you" and then told me my symptoms are too complex for me to continue seeing them... so that feels a little like a kick in the stomach.
My mom, who means well, and lives with her own chronic pain, tells me it's because I don't have a routine (I have t been able to find a new job after losing another job due to my medical issues) and if I had a strict routine I wouldn't have so many issues. She's also of the opinion you need to just find the energy to combat fatigue...
I feel alone a lot of the time and like I'm trapped in my body that's failing on me.
If anyone has any tips, I would greatly appreciate it.

Note: For information on monetization: An Introduction To The Book That Is Me : ASMRScriptHaven (reddit.com)
Note: For my library: Masterlist for edgiscript : ASMRScriptHaven (reddit.com)
Note: This was going to be the DC character Catwoman, but changed midway through. Truth is, I didn't want to deal with Batman and the history of the character, I just wanted her traits. Buuuuuuut, because of that, I threw in a few homages to DC.
Note: Character is supremely confident throughout. As she speaks, she's very calm and sensual, very alluring and comforting to the listener. If you’re uncertain as to how she would be reacting or speaking, err on the side of being very soft and seductive. She adores the listener and is in complete control so she never acts afraid of anything he might say or do. Any fear is playful, mocking, or just plain phony.
---------------------------------------------------------
TITLE: THE REAL TREASURE
​
(Footsteps of a night watchman slowly echoing through the halls. A wooden door opens.)
Cat-burglar: (Playfully. Not actually worried.) Whoopsie, looks like I’ve been caught red-handed. Didn’t expect to see you here so soon. I thought your rounds would keep you on the east wing for at least another five minutes. Am I red-faced or what?
Trying to sound the alarm? Only realizing now that your alarm system isn’t working? Oopsie. I wonder who could have done something like that? (Laughs.)
Oh well. They say that diamonds are a girl’s best friend. So, I think I’ll just pocket the one I came for and make my exit now. Ta-ta, my love.
(Sound of fleeing as listener gives chase.)
(Footsteps stop. Momentary pause.)
(Calling out.) Oh, deeeeear. This way. (Giggles.)
(Fleeing sounds and chase again. Door opens and then closes.)
There you are. I thought you were quicker than that. I had to turn around and signal you so you didn’t lose me.
(Pause.)
(Sigh. Then with mock-distress.) You’re right. I’m trapped. We’re now in this basement supply room with no way out except through the only door that you’re now blocking. Whatever shall I do?
(Calmly.) Here. Here’s the South African Bat-Diamond. You caught me fair and square. I’ll return it and go quietly. Catch.
(Tosses it to listener.)
The treasure that I came for is in your possession. Now, please share with me your plans for me.
(Pause.)
(Flirty.) Handcuffs? My, my, you enjoy a good party, don’t you? But no, sadly I won’t be cuffed on the first date. I’m not that easy. (Giggles.)
(Pause.)
(Playfully.) Ooh, a taser. I’m shaking in fear. What can a simple girl like me do against such a nasty weapon.
(Clicking sound, followed by several clicking sounds.)
Oh, no. Is your weapon not working? Could it possibly have been replaced with a dud? Now, who could have perpetrated such a thing and why. (Laughs.)
(Pause.)
Yes, dear, your hands are going numb. You see, the phony diamond I just tossed to your ungloved hands was coated with a special toxin of my own design. You’ve lost feeling in your hands and now it’s working its way to your arms, and very soon your entire body will be paralyzed.
(Pause.)
That’s right. Phony diamond. If you would have bothered to look at the case instead of staring at what was in my hands, or maybe other parts of my body, you’d have seen that the real diamond was still there. I never actually removed it.
(Pause.)
That’s right, dear. Shhhhh. Don’t be afraid. I’ve got you. Don’t worry, I’m not about to harm you. This may sting, but this antidote will keep the toxin from reaching your heart. I certainly don’t want to see you die. No, no, my love.
Aaaaaaand, it may have the additional effect of putting you to sleep. Scratch that, it definitely has the additional effect of putting you to sleep.
(Pause.)
I’ll never get the diamond? My sweet, sweet darling, haven’t you figured it out yet. I’m not after the diamond. I already told you. The treasure that I came for is in your possession. I’m here… for you.
(Time passes as listener blacks out then re-awakens.)
Oh, goodie, you’re awake. (Giggles.) I’ve been snuggled up to you here for a while waiting for you to finally wake up. I’ve just been amusing myself running my fingers through your silken hair.
(Pause.)
Well, exactly where we are longitude and latitudinally speaking is… a secret that I’m going to leave untold for the time being. But one way of answering your question correctly is that you’re in my lair, my home, my fortress of solitude, however you want to say it. The central core of the matter is that you’re with me and you always will be.
(Pause.)
No, no, honey. Don’t rush it. It’s ok. Take your time. You’re still waking up. Ease into it gently. I’ve got you here in my bed… wrapped up in my loving arms… as well as other types of binds… don’t rush. Take a deep breath.
(Brief pause.)
No, I mean it. Take a deep breath. Like this. (Takes a deep breath herself.) Then let it out. (Exhales.) Once again, deep breath. (Takes a deep breath.) And out. (Exhales.)
Feel better?
(Pause.)
Good… goooooood. Now, go ahead and ask me, slowly and calmly, what you were about to ask.
(Pause.)
(Soft, gentle laugh.) My ears. Do you like them?
(Pause.)
Oh, yes. I can imagine what a surprise they are. Nekos aren’t common on your world. In fact, I do believe I’m the only one. Who could have known that the greatest cat-burglar on earth was, in fact, a cat? Now that I’ve got my mask off, you see me for who I truly am. The ears that you and everyone else believed to be a part of my outfit, are actually mine.
When you get a little more strength and can sit up, I’ll show you my tail as well. (Giggles.)
(Pause.)
That’s… a very… very long story, and I’m more than happy to tell you the whole thing, but I’m going to wait until you’re a little less drugged up for that so you remember it clearly once I’ve told you. It’s a tale of intrigue, mystery, and a little bit of interdimensional travel.
Not of my own design, of course. I may be a cat-person, which is an oddity in these parts, but I do not possess what you might call superhuman powers. And what I mean by that is that I’m normal for someone of my species. I’m not a shape-shifter from Mars or anything like that. I’m from earth, just not your earth.
(Pause.)
No, dear. I’m not going to drug you anymore. At least not right away. Not tonight. I wanted you fully alert for all I wanted to share with you. But yes, that’s why you’re tied up. I can’t have you trying to get away on me now, which is completely impossible, however, I understand why you can’t accept my word on that. Therefore, you might have actually tried to get away from me if I’d let you wake up unbound. You might have caused some harm if I’d have let you do that.
(Pause.)
(Laughs.) No, not to me, silly. You might have harmed yourself.
(Very seductively.) And there’s no… way… I could ever… let… that… happen…
(Kiss.)
(Deep sigh.) My dear, are you beginning to understand why you’re here? I wasn’t at the museum for the diamond. It was a paltry bauble compared to others I’ve stolen. No, no, no. I… was there… for you.
(Kiss. Giggles.)
That’s right, my lovely, (kiss) lovely, (kiss) boy. (Giggles.) You… little old you, were the real treasure I was after.
(Pause.)
Why do you find that such an odd thing for me to say?
(Pause.)
My dear, dear boy, you are not common or average in any way shape or form. You are the sweetest, cutest, purest, cutest, nicest, cutest, shyest, most endearing person I’ve ever seen on two planets. And did I mention you’re pretty cute? (Soft laugh.)
I’ve acquired more wealth in my life than my grandchildren’s grandchildren could possibly spend. You’re laying right now in the true lap of luxury. I have anything I could ever possibly want… except someone to share it with.
And that’s where you come in. I was on vacation. I was relaxing and visiting your small-town museum.
(Pause.)
No, I wasn’t planning on stealing anything. You had nothing I’d truly care about. But I will admit that I was, how do they say it here? “Casing the joint.” Imagining how I could evade security and make off with whatever I wanted. I do it for fun. It’s like how some people play sudoku. It stimulates me and relaxes me at the same time.
And I saw you. Or rather, you saw me. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of me. I had a scarf over my head to keep my ears hidden, and my tail was neatly tucked away in my dress, but you followed me around like a little lost kitten. I wondered if you were trying to build up the courage to speak with me.
And then you saw someone snag my purse. I noticed it too. Well, of course, I rolled my eyes at his attempt. You had no way of knowing who I was or what I could do to him when I would have followed his scent later and taken care of him once nobody was around. But you, believing me to be utterly helpless and in distress, flew into action and immediately apprehended the villain in spectacular fashion. You truly impressed me.
And when you returned my purse, I thought you were going to finally say something to me, but you were interrupted by the cries of a lost little girl separated from her parents. And that grabbed my attention more than catching the purse thief. Without a moment’s hesitation, you walked away from your personal desires, trying to speak with me, in order to comfort that darling little girl. You scooped her up and held her warmly, patting her on the back gently as you calmed her down and located her parents.
Your selflessness struck me as something very uncommon on both of our worlds. So, I followed you for a few days and discovered that it wasn’t a fluke. It was easy to see that you were indeed a sweet, sweet man. I just had to make you mine.
(Pause.)
No dear, that might be how it’s done on your planet, but on my world, when a cat-girl decides that you’re hers, she simply claims you.
(Pause.)
(Giggles.) Ok, there’s a little more to it than that, but I can explain all of that later. For right now, you just need to know that I wanted you, I needed you, I fell in love with you, and I took you, possibly in that order. (Giggles.)
(Very softly and seductively.) Now just lay back and relax because I’ve spoken enough about all of that for right now. The drugs have worn off completely and I want to show you what you’re in for.
(There is a little bit of time between each thing she says as she softly does each thing she says.)
The head pats…
The snuggles…
The nuzzling into your neck with my nose while purring…
Mmmmmmmmm, you smell so good…
The gentle nibbling on your neck right beneath your ear…
(Soft giggle.) Oh, you really liked that, didn’t you?
The whispering into your ear about just how cute and adorable I find you…
The caressing of your hair and cheek while I whisper in your ear…
And, of course, while I climb onto your body and lay myself gently on top of you, the frequent, loving… (Kisses.)
Are you thinking now that my kidnapping you isn’t such a bad thing? (Soft laugh.)
(Pause.)
Yes, I know. It may be a gentle kidnapping, but it’s still kidnapping none-the-less. You’re right. You are so right. I guess that means I should let you go and then turn myself in to the proper authorities to face my punishment.
Orrrrrrr. And hear me out on this one, you could acknowledge that A, I don’t really care if I’ve broken any law. After all, I’m a master thief. I’ve already broken several.
And B, if I turned myself in and let you go, you’d no longer get this (Kiss.) and this (Kiss.) and these (Kisses.)
Do you really want to give up all that and more simply because I didn’t ask you beforehand to confirm that I knew you’d like it.
(Pause.)
That’s what I thought. Now, just relax, sweetie. I’m about to show you just how great it is to be my most valued treasure.
(Kiss.)

Hi! So my toddler (3M) started with a runny snotty nose Monday. Fever Wednesday morning. Fever last night. Watery eyes yesterday with very little discharge in one eye. Woke up this morning with eyes crusted together. Fever before bed today.
Seems viral in nature. Pediatrician (not our normal!) said it probably happened from rubbing his nose and then touching his eyes. Which makes sense. She prescribed antibiotic eye drops (poly-b with something) but I’ve been reading from the American association of ophthalmology that that’s not recommended practice anymore? Mayo Clinic concurs. I would prefer to follow whatever evidence based practice has been shown most effective.
So docs of reddit, would you prescribe the eye drops or should I just hold off and provide comfort care? (And hope and pray that I don’t get it too).

Hello everyone… I’m a FTM and my 9 month old is sick for the first time… with Covid. We all have Covid actually, and it’s really knocked me down (which is weird bc I have had it twice before and had zero symptoms). This time has been absolutely terrible. Anyway, my biggest worry is my baby. He started to get fevers, cough, and a slight runny nose. Every. Single. Time. We tried to give him medicine for his fever, he projectile vomited. I’m wondering if I’m triggering his gag reflex or something? The third time we tried with a special paci for medicine and as soon as he got the taste, he puked. We had to go the suppository route. He just seems so out of it and tired. He is still breastfeeding at least. Im counting wet diapers. But I’m completely panicking inside. On a 1-10 scale, my anxiety is at like a 15. I wonder if I should sleep on the floor in his room but my husband thinks we should not mess with his normal routine. We do have a camera and an owlet. I just keep thinking like worst case scenario, so is there someone out there who’s baby got sick with Covid and then got better without any problems? Please share so I can replace my current thoughts with happier ones. I just wish I could chill out. Parenting while sick is tough. Parenting a sick baby while sick sucks even more. I just wish I didn’t add fuel to the fire with anxiety 😵‍💫 anyway, I’d love to hear your Covid baby stories. Thank you 🙏🏽 (also open to any advice)