Sinus back-up in ears and neck

So context. I’m in a campaign with five other players and this issue relates to a situation where my character is in the minority when it comes to an opinion.
What happened was that we needed to clear out a room in a building that was filled with difficult enemies. So two players decided on bombing the room with fire magic and lamp oil. This led to the rogue NPC and my character going to steal the oil from a shop. My character morally disagreed with this idea. But it made sense mechanically for her to accompany the rogue since she had the second highest stealth. Plus plot wise, she felt she needed to make it up to the rogue NPC and one of the PCs for her cowardly actions in the building earlier.
The oil was stolen successfully and the rogue got it back to the building, but at the cost of my character getting caught outside past curfew and sent back to the tavern where her employer was. This meant that she got an earful despite her not being directly involved in the bombing and she got to see most of the aftermath of the whole incident, making her feel even more guilty. It led to a later conversation where my character finally piped up about not wanting to do something like that again.
Out of the six characters, three of them were very on board with this plan (two of which were the ones who planned it), one of them wasn’t at the session we did this on but agrees with the plan after being briefed on it, one character is staying neutral on it and focused on keeping NPCs safe and my character was heavily against it, but had a hand in it due to what I mentioned earlier. There are also a few NPCs with differing opinions on the plan too, but only one of them agrees with my character (her employer).
I don’t mind my character being in this position in terms of plot and roleplay. It’s actually kinda interesting. But I don’t want this to affect other player’s fun in terms of gameplay. I don’t want to judge everyone’s play style on one incident. But if we’re going for a chaotic campaign, my pacifist Bard who wants to spare as many people as possible might clash with the characters who are more willing to kill a little more, especially if she’s literally the only one who thinks this way.
How do I strike a balance? The campaign is still in its infancy, so I don’t think I need to go as drastic as making a new character. But my character is now fleshed out enough where I like where her main personality is.

(See update at the end) Some context before I (32m) get into the situation as I feel it's important to how I reacted. I have been in two situations, one as a 6-year-old and at 28, that involved women and unwanted touching and beyond in both occasions I have been powerless as a child or incapacitated as an adult like unable to control my bowels or bladder kind of incapacitated. Both my wife and my guest are aware of my past. I'm trying to keep this broad stroke so as not to violate any rules, but again I think this context is important.
So on to the current situation. We currently have a (26f) friend who is living out of a tent, and we often invite her over so she can do laundry, shower, and other hygiene tasks. In this instance, I decided to hop onto my computer and play some games while she did her stuff and hung out with the wife while I chatted back and forth with them a bit. As she wrapped up her visit, she approached me from behind and hit me with a hairbrush not hard just to get my attention. It for sure startled me, and I did snap at her telling her to stop. I looked up at her from my chair, and she does it again, and I tell her to stop again while making direct eye contact with her, which she doesn't doing it once more and then demanding I hug her, which I refuse to do, telling her very clearly "fuck no, I don't want to touch you," and I follow that up with if you keep going like this I'm going to kick you out. She gives me a kinda laugh and says whatever, I'm leaving anyway and then touches me again.
I get to my feet now both extremely panicky feeling and angry we have a bit of a scuffle not a fight, and I end up shouting at her to leave and not come back. I felt entirely violated in my own home during all this, but both her and my wife insist it was just a game and she did not mean it despite me telling her no repeatedly and both my wife and the guest hearing it. I'm for sure not saying my behavior was great, and I've been seeking long-term treatment to help with my issues both mainly being PTSD related to my time as an Army MP and the events mentioned in my personal life. Despite that, I 100% should not have acted in anger like I did.
So am I wrong for feeling the way I do? Or is the wife and the guest right and it was just a game and she didn't mean it.
EDIT: to be 100% upfront it escalated and I reacted (badly) physicality was involved but as also pointed out I was near panicked and overwhelmed due to my past.
EDIT 2: EDIT: Gonna try and respond to a few more posts then I've gotta have a break. I do thank everyone that took the time to write out comments or interact with me.
Edit 3?: My husband gave me access to this account, and I told him I wrote down my perspective. When I asked if I should add it, he said "it's up to you." So here it is.
Our friend approached my husband, who was playing an online cooperative action game on his computer, at his desk. I was sitting on the couch about 8 feet behind them, waiting for my friend to be ready for me to drive her home. She was wearing a long night shirt with a loose v-neck. She stood at his left side peripheral for about 2 seconds before she tapped the back of her hairbrush firmly against the side of his left shoulder. I immediately was not comfortable with this, as I don't tend to engage in horseplay unless someone else has repeatedly demonstrated to me that it's a method of expression that they like and want. I do enjoy my husband's frequent physicality with me, including picking me up or tickling me. My friend and husband have engaged in horseplay on many occasions before, tickling, poking at one another's stomach, and playfully throwing soft objects. This often included my friend's fiance, who usually only reciprocated with my friend. I will frequently smack my husband on the butt, but only when I am sure he is in a mood to be okay with it.
My husband said, "Hey, I'm busy," and didn't turn to her at first. She hit him again with the brush in the same spot, and my husband said "stop" in a normal voice, and my friend responded, saying "give me a hug (which we almost always all do at the end of visits). I don't remember if she hit him again, because he said (and I'm going to paraphrase, because at this point I began to get alarmed, and was only listening to the tone of his voice, and less to his words, unfortunately) that if she didn't stop, he'd make her leave. She said lightly that it didn't matter anyway; she was leaving. At this point, I realized by her teasing tone that she didn't understand how upset he was getting, which I did understand, through years of experience with his tone of voice and what it means. He didn't raise his voice, and I could hear that he was attempting to remain casual as he said something else, ending with "my dude" but that she had really pushed him past the point of anger and I didn't think she realized it. She put her hand on his shoulder, and he said "I don't want to fucking touch you now" and he stood up, and grabbed her by the neck of her shirt, pulling her foreward, and then put both hands around her throat, and I saw his hands tense, as he leaned down into her face and told her to leave the house and never come back. He pushed her backwards and she started to cry, and put her head down, hurrying to get pick up her things. My husband sat back down at his desk and didn't say anything else until I told him I was going to take the friend home and I'd be back, and he said "sure." The friend cried during the ride home, and her voice was harsh, but I wasn't sure if it was stress or physical. She did have marks on her throat, but those faded over the next few hours. She asked me repeatedly why he got so upset, and if anything was different, and I did point out to her that he said "stop," and she said that she thought it was part of the play. When I returned home, my husband did not seem upset, and seemed more relaxed than before, although he seemed nervous about my response to the situation. He said that he didn't remember putting his hands around her throat when I told him that he did.
My thoughts about this are that: 1) horseplaying with people with trauma, which all three of us have, to various degrees and in various forms, is potentially dangerous, and I'm frequently uncomfortable when it happens, although I often don't say anything, as I'm usually the odd one out when it comes to initiating social teasing, although I often enjoy receiving it.
2.) Our friend should have stopped at the word stop. I don't know why she didn't, but I don't think it was out of malice, because she genuinely did not seem to see how she was provoking him.
3.) Her actions were inappropriate, in my opinion, but his were potentially life-threatening and the fact that he didn't remember what he did was alarming. I am concerned that this will happen again, and he will have charges pressed in a situation where he is the first physical aggressor. This would be even worse if he inadvertently harms someone, and the escalation of force combined with memory issues in this latest case makes me worry that it might happen.
4.) I possibly could have prevented this from happening by being quicker stopping her or by getting between them, but I know from experience that once he has a grip on someone, I'm not strong enough to break it, and he ignores my presence or physically shakes me off if I try. He ignores my words entirely at these times. I expected her to see that he was upset before he snapped, because it seemed obvious to me, but she didn't, and I have no idea why. She's had lots of trauma of her own (as have I, including SA) in the past (and, like me, has worked in jobs that revolve around dealing with people dealing with trauma).

So one of my coworkers has been coughing up a storm, talking about chills and having a sinus infection. 🙃
I started coming down with something on Thursday and tested positive on Friday. Boss gave me two days off and said come back Monday. I'm still a walking corpse and my job is customer service ajacent. But the thing is I am still in my new hire phase.
I'm in the U.S. and that's just a policy in place that means I can be fired without reason until I have been here a set amount of time.
Should I just show up Monday morning?

So context. I’m in a campaign with five other players and this issue relates to a situation where my character is in the minority when it comes to an opinion.
What happened was that we needed to clear out a room in a building that was filled with difficult enemies. So two players decided on bombing the room with fire magic and lamp oil. This led to the rogue NPC and my character going to steal the oil from a shop. My character morally disagreed with this idea. But it made sense mechanically for her to accompany the rogue since she had the second highest stealth. Plus plot wise, she felt she needed to make it up to the rogue NPC and one of the PCs for her cowardly actions in the building earlier.
The oil was stolen successfully and the rogue got it back to the building, but at the cost of my character getting caught outside past curfew and sent back to the tavern where her employer was. This meant that she got an earful despite her not being directly involved in the bombing and she got to see most of the aftermath of the whole incident, making her feel even more guilty. It led to a later conversation where my character finally piped up about not wanting to do something like that again.
Out of the six characters, three of them were very on board with this plan (two of which were the ones who planned it), one of them wasn’t at the session we did this on but agrees with the plan after being briefed on it, one character is staying neutral on it and focused on keeping NPCs safe and my character was heavily against it, but had a hand in it due to what I mentioned earlier. There are also a few NPCs with differing opinions on the plan too, but only one of them agrees with my character (her employer).
I don’t mind my character being in this position in terms of plot and roleplay. It’s actually kinda interesting. But I don’t want this to affect other player’s fun in terms of gameplay. I don’t want to judge everyone’s play style on one incident. But if we’re going for a chaotic campaign, my pacifist Bard who wants to spare as many people as possible might clash with the characters who are more willing to kill a little more, especially if she’s literally the only one who thinks this way.
How do I strike a balance? The campaign is still in its infancy, so I don’t think I need to go as drastic as making a new character. But my character is now fleshed out enough where I like where her main personality is.

3 years ago in 2021 , I picked up and took my first ever pills of estradiol. There was a lot of emotions going on In me at that time, a lot of happiness and a lot of fear, A lot of worries and a lot of doubts, A lot of impatience and a lot of learning. All from that single Blue pill.
Words cannot even describe how excited I was on that day. In 2021 when I first got my first bottle, I was over the moon and I was telling everyone about it. I told my girlfriend at the time, I told some close friends, I even told my dog after I took the pills, whispering it in his ears. All around that day was one of if not the best days of my life. I remember playing all of my favorite songs all day long and finally saying " This is it, this is The moment in my life where I change everything".
And it did but not in the way that I planned. Don't worry, not a horrible bunch happened but some things did happen. Of course, one of the many things I had to get used to was the new emotions as being a male, I was able to pretty much shut down my emotions for a large amount of time and basically stuff them in a random area. But when I tell you after that I would cry at the smallest things, and then the part I didn't expect for that happened. Instead of my mom comforting me and understanding, scrutinized me and told me that I couldn't be a real woman because I was crying too much, She got angry at me because I wanted to go home after it was too much from an argument I had with my grandfather at the time and emotions were running everywhere and I just couldn't take it. For the first time in my life I broke down uncontrollably in front of a boss, something I would never do, I would have waited until I gotten home but then I realized that since I was on the hormones and the fight was pretty intense/ words were said that were not so nice. It struck a cord. I mean don't get me wrong on one hand. I am extremely glad that my emotions can finally be free but at the same time being met with that level of anger and bitterness from my mom was completely unexpected.
The second thing is the acne. Of course with any puberty you're going to have acne, but I just didn't expect it to be under my armpits, popping everywhere constantly, and for some reason to be in Aries that don't make any sense. Why did I have elbow cap Acne??? Anywho, it wasn't too bad because in the end you know everything kind of worked out.
Speaking of puberty, the hair. Oh my God the hair. It's slowed down, which was great, I got a chance to shave it and I didn't have to worry about shaving it every week and I could just shave it once and keep it a little bit cleaned up and then when it grew back in like 3 weeks I'd shave it again. And for a while I was using Nair for other bits and it was just genuinely nice.
Now this one is the one I've been really wanting to talk about because I haven't heard anyone else experience this. I don't know what I did to trigger it, but I guess by conclusions it was because I felt truly at peace and I did not care about what anybody felt in that moment or those moments in the month/months and I just presented how I always wanted to. Because I did this, I triggered this weird euphoric, warm, Blissful feeling that I've grown to call " The euphoric Bliss feeling" or " Trans euphoric Bliss/Trans euphoric Buzz". Like I said, it was a warm fuzzy feeling and it felt like I was back in 2008(It only makes sense to me but that's the best way I can explain it). It was like I felt HOME/WHOLE And I didn't care what people said, The biggest part of it is that I didn't have any anxiety and that's what truly made me feel free. Before I had to use recreational stuff in order to access this feeling, but in that moment it's like I awakened it naturally. And I was beyond happy when that finally happened.
If there's only one regret I have during this entire transition is that I didn't take enough pictures. Because I was rushing too much. Yeah unfortunately I got caught up and what most of trans girlies that start out get caught up in " The Hallmark experiences" And I did not take any pictures which is the only real regret I have. I know I'm grown and changed a lot but how far and how much is unknown. I do have pictures before I started but they're not really pictures where you can see the good amount of places that changed.
But I do have good news, and err.. Kind of bad news I guess.
I'm starting over, now. You may be wondering: What this post was about congratulating 3 years of HRT, What do you mean you're starting over?
Simple as that. I'm starting over, this time. I'm going to take pictures and be a lot more careful and patient with myself. 8 months ago I had a very bad experience with some recreational stuff and it basically scrambled my brain so badly that I didn't have emotions for a few months and I lost "The Blissful Euphoric Buzz"
My main goal is to try to reawaken that Buzz feeling. If I can and if I can't I'll just accept it. But my miniature goals are to be safe and this time to take it slow and be patient.
All right this is getting too long, but I just wanted to share my excitement for my 3 years of HRT! (I do apologize if everything in this post is confusing, if you have any questions I'd be more than welcome to ask!)
Vyeeeee!! :°3

I've posted about a year ago regarding my then 7th month old scratching his head and hurting himself in the process. You can find the old post here: https://www.reddit.com/Parenting/comments/139ip9z/baby_wont_stop_scratching_his_head_until_it_bleads/
Recently I've had 3 different parents that have found the post and were in the same situation, inboxing for an update/solution, so I decided to make an update post in case more parents are looking for answers. Sorry I took so long. I know the despair you feel. I assure you it will get better if you persevere. This is an extremely long post, so I have bolded the several topics, in case you don't want to read everything, so they are easier to find.
To update on my son's situation: He's now 1y and 7 months. He is allergic to milk and he has a combination of cradle cap and eczema. In addition to this, he was also born with Hydronephrosis (enlarged kidneys) which means he is limited in the medication that he's allowed to take (no ipobrufren, as an example)
The Cradle Cap situation has improved by itself, mainly by just carrying on with what we were doing. We use the Frida Flake Fixer treatment and a cradle cap shampoo (Dentinox). We've also been advised not to wash his head every day, leave it 1 or 2 days (one doctor even said once a week). For the cuts, the best thing was indeed a Vaseline barrier to help the raw skin heal. Even though it definitely stinks, the healing is the most important part. I would put Vaseline on his scalp the day before a bath, do the treatment with the Frida Brush and then I would rub a Baby Scalp Oil (Colief) to soften the flakes on the day after the bath; I would put Vaseline on the scalp the next day and he would take a bath the next day, rinse and repeat, until the cuts were healed, and I could ditch the Vaseline step. If the cut was deep I would sometimes apply Sudocream only at night after a bath and the Vaseline was removed and he'd fallen asleep so he wouldn't take it off. He still slept with mittens inside his cuffed babygrow, but he always managed to get one or two fingers out, I kid you not when I say, that sometimes I would sleep holding his hand to prevent him from scratching his head when the wounds here at it's worst. All of these steps have contributed to has improved the cradle cap lot and eventually disappeared in about a month's time. He's going trough a second outbreak now, a year later, but no where near as bad as it was then, he's not scratching himself to death.
The Eczema situation. Right....... this situation has improved for a few good 7-8 months with the Aveeno Baby Dermexa Emollient Cream. I would use it 3 times a day or more to fight of dry skin. The areas where the skin folded were the worst. Arm folds, neck folds, behind the knees, there the eczema would install and spread, That could only be controlled an Hydrocortisoid Cream, 1% w/w. It did eventually disappeared save for one spot -- just behind the right knee. He developed a habit of scratching it with his left foot. But, lets put the Eczema situation on hold for a moment, while we talk about:
The Milk Allergy situation.... Oh Boy..... this is about to get very long.....
In my previous post made at the beginning of May 2023, I stated that my son had been to the A&E (a week before the post) for an allergic reaction to porridge, so he would either be allergic to Milk and/or Gluten. We were told a referral was done to our GP for a visit by an allergy team who would walk us through to process of slowly introducing allergens so that my son would hopefully be able to safely be exposed to them in the future and advised to "only feed him vegetables and fruit". We were given an "prescription" for an antihistamine to continue the treatment and to use as an SOS in case of another allergic reaction in the future. No allergy tests were done for my son at all.
We were told that, it would take a couple of weeks before we were contacted by the allergy team and to contact the GP after two weeks if we hadn't heard from them. We waited a month and nothing. At the end of May, I went to our GP to ask for updates on this situation. Imagine my shock when the GP told me that they didn't even have ANY information about my son being in the A&E. They've spent 1h contacting the hospital to get the paperwork from the A&E that SHOULD have been sent to our GP. In said paperwork, it states that the hospital would like the GP to sort out the allergy appointment. So, no allergy appointment had been made for an entire month and if I hadn't enquired about this situation, the GP would have had no clue about the need to make one because they didn't have the necessary paperwork! I was given an apology and scheduled an "assessment appointment" 2 days later. I enquired about an Antihistamine prescription, since my son was gonna start nursery in a couple of weeks when my maternity leave would end and I needed to provide a bottle for them in case of an allergic reaction, because we still didn't know what my son was allergic to.... Lo and behold, when the GP staff looks at the hospital paperwork, it was stated that no more antihistaminic was necessary, against what we were advised, as we should have one antihistamine as SOS, I had to press the GP to provide us with an prescription (which the lady was very quick to do after seeing me ready to implode regarding this absolute incompetence) so the nursery could have one antihistamine with themselves as we couldn't keep juggling our bottle back and forth with them.
The assessment appointment which basically consisted in 5 mins of asking for details about the allergic reaction, all of which was written in A&E's paperwork and only then being referred to a dietitian's team. I was given no ETA, no info about where it would be, no contact that I could call to at least be put on a waiting list in case of a cancellation, nothing. I was only asked to wait and when confronted, the practitioner admitted that this appointment COULD have been made straight in the hospital's A&E, instead of this ridiculous and time wasting bureaucratic football between the Hospital and the GP.
You might think this was the end of the miscommunication and incompetence.... Oh oh But no,.. of course not!! I waited another month of silence. At the end of June I called the hospital's appointment hotline enquiring about my son's appointment, only to be told that he doesn't have one because a referral hadn't been made yet! I was fuming!! I immediately called the GP who have assured me that a referral has been sent to the hospital's Paediatric and gave me it's referral number and they would enquire....
If you are in the UK like I am and you see that your baby/child is being ignored by your GP / Hospital and not getting the appropriate care, then do as I did and contact PALS near your area. That was the best piece of advice that I have received from people at my local breastfeeding group, and if being a mother has taught me anything, is that sometimes, you will have to be a momma bear (aka Karen to the eyes of the target) and advocate for your child. I work in retail, I despise Karens and I have no wish to be one, I am usually a pushover. But I will not allow anyone to trample on my son's health. And while I do have respect for the NHS, seeing has my brother in law works there, I know damn well, by his own words, that the main problem is not the lack of funds, but the pockets where they go and the terrible disorganization.
At that point I had enough of excuses and I made a complaint to PALS about both the GP and the Hospital. My son was almost 9months and still breastfeeding but eating mostly Vegetables and Fruit as solid food as per A&E'S guidelines, delaying his weaning and feeding development and causing stress with the nursery and our family as we didn't know what he was allergic to and couldn't move on to full meals. I flat out asked them if they were intent on my son completing an entire year of life being fed only Vegetables and Fruit besides breastmilk, and called them out because an 8 month baby should not be put on the back burner over and over again due to the incredibly poor communication between these two organizations and have his health jeopardized. I demanded a resolution ASAP and forward this to the Paediatrician as I did not trust the hospital to be able clearly communicate between their departments and whom I suspected had not been told absolutely nothing regarding all this. Two days later the allergy team specialist rang me to personally and profusely apologise and take the situation under her control and give me her allergy guidelines which I should have been given since the beginning. I was still forced to wait until early July for a allergy test - Milk was found to be the culprit.
I still thank everything that I had enough perseverance to stick with breastfeeding and never, ever, though to look at formula. I tremble to think about the consequences, Even though I'm aware that dairy free formulas exist, me being a 1st time ignorant mother, chances were I could have picked a wrong one. Fortunately I produced more than enough milk and my son had a good latch. Also because my son was not making any allergic reactions to my milk, this meant there was a higher chance that he could grow out of his allergy, as he was still getting enzymes from the dairy that I consumed. From here on, food introduction was a breeze. He's a real foodie, he loves to eat and he loves to eat with us. Adapting our diet was a bit of work, as I have IBS and my husband is diabetic so there might be some foods that will be a trigger or might not be the most ideal to someone in our family, but we managed to strike a good balance. Vegan options do help and we are having fun exploring that.
The problems then came with the nursery. After letting them know that my son was allergic to milk and other things were fine, the cases of allergic reaction in the nursery stated to increase and he started getting very bad reactions. First we suspected cross contamination, then that he might be allergic to something else, but the foods they were saying he was allergic to made absolutely no sense as he was just fine having those at home. We came to the conclusion after several events in the softplay area - that involved no food at all - that the culprit might be their cleaning products and further pressed after two different members of staff said they themselves were allergic to that product - Milton. After several bickerings between us and the nursery and us visiting our origin country for Xmas where my son ate in 4 different household and 5 different restaurant with absolutely no allergy reaction (in comparing to the then daily cases of reaction on the 3 days that he stayed at nursery), we finally convinced the nursery to change their cleaning products - they are now using Sanell. In addiction to prevent cross contamination, my son was given his own high chair, that no other child uses. Happy to say the cases of allergy are nearly non-existent now. His recent blood results also came back with amazingly good improvements, so we got the thumbs up from the Allergy Team and the Paediatrician to start the milk ladder and slowly and gradually adding milk to his diet. Currently he's in stage one and having half a teaspoon of malted milk biscuit daily with no reaction. It will probably still be able two months until he can have a full biscuit, but I can't wait to see his smile when we get to this stage - he loves taking the little piece of my hand.
Because of the back and forth with the nursery and them insisting that the allergic reaction could be due to other foods, the allergy team at the hospital was more concerned with that than his Eczema situation. We had to insist about it, since we suspected the reactions might be Eczema instead, stating that I was still waiting for the promised skin specialist appointment since end of April last year. The lead Team Speciallist, again showed her amazing professionalism and chased up the situation and we finally got our appointment jointly with her and the skin specialist in January of this year. She gave us a few products to try but said that the Eczema situation was relatively controlled. The samples that she gave were:

• Dermol 500 Lotion - we still use this for his bath as a soap substitute
• Adex Gel - kind like an emollient cream, it was ok-ish
• Cetraben Cream - didn't seem to make any difference, but can also be used as a soap substitute so we'll give it a go after Dermol is finished
• Zerodearm Ointment - didn't seem to make any difference, but it has a Vaseline like quality to it, so might try again

About a week after the appointment, my Son had an mild outbreak of Eczema on his legs. We tried several combinations of above products that seemed to temporally control the situation but didn't complete solve it. In Early March of this year the Eczema appeared in his back. He has a huge red birthmark the size of my hand on his back, so that skin is very sensitive. He started to scratch and rub his back against things and it didn't took long to break the skin. It didn't bleed but it was oozing/weeping which would make the skin get stuck to his clothes and then get raw, so no treatment was going to work on that as it would slide off with the oozing/weeping. I despaired then as I had a year ago.
So I went back to the thing that worked last time - Vaseline. This time though, it was on a place that I couldn't exactly leave uncovered. My son was about to do some blood tests so hospital had given us numb cream to put on the inside of his elbows and some clear medical film. He had this done before and I remembered that the film had been resistant enough to keep the cream in and didn't hurt his skin, so I though, maybe I could apply the same theory. So I bought some clear medical film (Tegaderm Film), put a good chunk of Vaseline on the wound and sealed it with the film. I changed this twice or three times a day, depending if he was in the nursery or not. It worked like a charm and it allowed the skin to heal. For reference, the nursery manager, whose son suffers with really bad eczema has suggested me the AproDerm Ointment which also has a Vaseline consistency to it, but my son's situation cleared up before I had to use it.
The skin specialist by then had prescribed a treatment with another hydrocortisoid cream ( Daktacort 2% 1% w/w, needs to be kept refridgerated ) and an emollient cream - Epimax Oatmeal Cream. For the other patches of Eczema (that were not in wound), I would use Daktacord, once in the morning, once in the evening, and I would use Epimax to keep the skin moisturized along the day, whenever I would change a diaper. The skin specialist told us to keep using Daktacord twice a day for a week, then drop it to once a day on the following week, and then drop it to every other day on the week after. This has worked brilliantly and it solved all Eczema patches, including the stubborn one behind his right knee, We were able to drop the Daktacord and we now only use the Epimax emollient regularly about twice a day.
Thank you if you have read everything so far, I hope you have found something that could be of use to you. Happy to answer any questions that you might have, or if you're feeling desperate like I was and just need some reassurance, just drop me message!

(See update at the end) Some context before I (32m) get into the situation as I feel it's important to how I reacted. I have been in two situations, one as a 6-year-old and at 28, that involved women and unwanted touching and beyond in both occasions I have been powerless as a child or incapacitated as an adult like unable to control my bowels or bladder kind of incapacitated. Both my wife and my guest are aware of my past. I'm trying to keep this broad stroke so as not to violate any rules, but again I think this context is important.
So on to the current situation. We currently have a (26f) friend who is living out of a tent, and we often invite her over so she can do laundry, shower, and other hygiene tasks. In this instance, I decided to hop onto my computer and play some games while she did her stuff and hung out with the wife while I chatted back and forth with them a bit. As she wrapped up her visit, she approached me from behind and hit me with a hairbrush not hard just to get my attention. It for sure startled me, and I did snap at her telling her to stop. I looked up at her from my chair, and she does it again, and I tell her to stop again while making direct eye contact with her, which she doesn't doing it once more and then demanding I hug her, which I refuse to do, telling her very clearly "fuck no, I don't want to touch you," and I follow that up with if you keep going like this I'm going to kick you out. She gives me a kinda laugh and says whatever, I'm leaving anyway and then touches me again.
I get to my feet now both extremely panicky feeling and angry we have a bit of a scuffle not a fight, and I end up shouting at her to leave and not come back. I felt entirely violated in my own home during all this, but both her and my wife insist it was just a game and she did not mean it despite me telling her no repeatedly and both my wife and the guest hearing it. I'm for sure not saying my behavior was great, and I've been seeking long-term treatment to help with my issues both mainly being PTSD related to my time as an Army MP and the events mentioned in my personal life. Despite that, I 100% should not have acted in anger like I did.
So am I wrong for feeling the way I do? Or is the wife and the guest right and it was just a game and she didn't mean it.
EDIT: to be 100% upfront it escalated and I reacted (badly) physicality was involved but as also pointed out I was near panicked and overwhelmed due to my past.
EDIT 2: EDIT: Gonna try and respond to a few more posts then I've gotta have a break. I do thank everyone that took the time to write out comments or interact with me.
Edit 3?: My husband gave me access to this account, and I told him I wrote down my perspective. When I asked if I should add it, he said "it's up to you." So here it is.
Our friend approached my husband, who was playing an online cooperative action game on his computer, at his desk. I was sitting on the couch about 8 feet behind them, waiting for my friend to be ready for me to drive her home. She was wearing a long night shirt with a loose v-neck. She stood at his left side peripheral for about 2 seconds before she tapped the back of her hairbrush firmly against the side of his left shoulder. I immediately was not comfortable with this, as I don't tend to engage in horseplay unless someone else has repeatedly demonstrated to me that it's a method of expression that they like and want. I do enjoy my husband's frequent physicality with me, including picking me up or tickling me. My friend and husband have engaged in horseplay on many occasions before, tickling, poking at one another's stomach, and playfully throwing soft objects. This often included my friend's fiance, who usually only reciprocated with my friend. I will frequently smack my husband on the butt, but only when I am sure he is in a mood to be okay with it.
My husband said, "Hey, I'm busy," and didn't turn to her at first. She hit him again with the brush in the same spot, and my husband said "stop" in a normal voice, and my friend responded, saying "give me a hug (which we almost always all do at the end of visits). I don't remember if she hit him again, because he said (and I'm going to paraphrase, because at this point I began to get alarmed, and was only listening to the tone of his voice, and less to his words, unfortunately) that if she didn't stop, he'd make her leave. She said lightly that it didn't matter anyway; she was leaving. At this point, I realized by her teasing tone that she didn't understand how upset he was getting, which I did understand, through years of experience with his tone of voice and what it means. He didn't raise his voice, and I could hear that he was attempting to remain casual as he said something else, ending with "my dude" but that she had really pushed him past the point of anger and I didn't think she realized it. She put her hand on his shoulder, and he said "I don't want to fucking touch you now" and he stood up, and grabbed her by the neck of her shirt, pulling her foreward, and then put both hands around her throat, and I saw his hands tense, as he leaned down into her face and told her to leave the house and never come back. He pushed her backwards and she started to cry, and put her head down, hurrying to get pick up her things. My husband sat back down at his desk and didn't say anything else until I told him I was going to take the friend home and I'd be back, and he said "sure." The friend cried during the ride home, and her voice was harsh, but I wasn't sure if it was stress or physical. She did have marks on her throat, but those faded over the next few hours. She asked me repeatedly why he got so upset, and if anything was different, and I did point out to her that he said "stop," and she said that she thought it was part of the play. When I returned home, my husband did not seem upset, and seemed more relaxed than before, although he seemed nervous about my response to the situation. He said that he didn't remember putting his hands around her throat when I told him that he did.
My thoughts about this are that: 1) horseplaying with people with trauma, which all three of us have, to various degrees and in various forms, is potentially dangerous, and I'm frequently uncomfortable when it happens, although I often don't say anything, as I'm usually the odd one out when it comes to initiating social teasing, although I often enjoy receiving it.
2.) Our friend should have stopped at the word stop. I don't know why she didn't, but I don't think it was out of malice, because she genuinely did not seem to see how she was provoking him.
3.) Her actions were inappropriate, in my opinion, but his were potentially life-threatening and the fact that he didn't remember what he did was alarming. I am concerned that this will happen again, and he will have charges pressed in a situation where he is the first physical aggressor. This would be even worse if he inadvertently harms someone, and the escalation of force combined with memory issues in this latest case makes me worry that it might happen.
4.) I possibly could have prevented this from happening by being quicker stopping her or by getting between them, but I know from experience that once he has a grip on someone, I'm not strong enough to break it, and he ignores my presence or physically shakes me off if I try. He ignores my words entirely at these times. I expected her to see that he was upset before he snapped, because it seemed obvious to me, but she didn't, and I have no idea why. She's had lots of trauma of her own (as have I, including SA) in the past (and, like me, has worked in jobs that revolve around dealing with people dealing with trauma).

I currently manage the food & beverage at a local golf course, I took over and am new this year.
Last year was apparently a total shit show with the staff fighting amongst themselves, never having product in, no organization and the so called “manager” last year blatantly stole from the company and broke many laws during their tenure.
Being a golf course, we have many regulars who I can expect to see on certain days etc. since the very START of this season, there is one man who comes in every Sunday morning and argues with me as I refused to serve him alcohol before 9 am. (This is the law in my area) He was used to getting whatever he wanted last year and really did not like that I told him no because it’s against the law.
He has been extremely difficult and hostile towards me since day one because I had to tell him no. Every week he comes in and argues with me over the same thing, thinking it will change my answer. He comes in every single time at 8:30 asking for a beer and is met with the same response as always.
He progressively gets more and more rude every week until this morning where he proceeded to go right outside the door and shit talk my entire staff within ear shot of one of my employees, saying that “no one here cares about customer service, there’s always just excuses, whatever happened to the customer is always right?!” And accused us all of deliberately ignoring his group (the cart girl)
I am utterly fed up with this man, and have even pulled up the government website to show him that I am simply doing my job and following the laws. So today I finally told the owner of the golf course the entire situation, because at this point I’m concerned he’s going to submit a formal complaint against me and I don’t want the owner to think I am just being an asshole for no reason. He backed me up and said he will talk to the staff about telling this man that he is NOT to continue to harass me about this issue, otherwise he will be banned from the course
It’s not often you find owners who will back you up like that, and I’m so happy he did, now I’m just praying he comes back in next week and tries his shit so we can get rid of him once and for all 🤣

I don’t know what to do with my life.
For the past 5 years(I think, I haven’t kept count) my life has been going downhill. Ever since my brother got his ADHD diagnosis I’ve felt like an outcast from my family. He goes around doing whatever he wants. Something happens, not his fault, always blamed on someone else.
Rather recently (a couple months back) he was annoying everybody at a family gathering, my uncle, very clearly joking, told him to stand in the road. And my brother the fucking idiot he is, sat in the middle of the road. And of course when we found him, my mum was crying about it. Blaming everyone other than him, because, oh no her precious baby boy (he’s 10) was told to stand in the road and he did. But it’s not his fault, he has ADHD. And in her eyes that means he is disconnected from any blame he should be given.
Another thing he does is he pushes my buttons, purposely, talking in my ear, even when I tell him to stop. He tells me to learn my place. And of course eventually I go off on him, sometimes I give him one round the jaw. And of course, my mum comes and consoles him, because it isn’t his fault, he has ADHD, which in her eyes means he can be a prick all he wants. I can hear her talking about me, ”oh he’s a bully.” Or, “he’s a terrible person.” There are many other instances of shit like this happening, but I can’t get into them.
So about my brother: he is now 10 years old, he can barely do anything, bad at reading, writing, spelling. And it’s all because he has ADHD, and the school aren’t doing enough to support him. (They are bending over backwards for him, we all are) He got suspended from school last week, all he got was a 2 day ban on the Xbox. When I was his age and I didn’t do my homework, I got a two month ban from the TV.
Now I know this seems like a rant about my brother, but I can’t halo but think. Am I really the one in the wrong? Am I really the evil person I’ve been made out to be? But this is just a little drop an ocean of problems for me. I’m gonna talk about all of them today because, why not?
My family has a history of alcoholism, My grandad died because of it. And a while back my dad was addicted to whisky, he said he’s stopped, but you can never be too sure. Apparently he was drinking one bottle a day. I looked in the bin one week, 10 bottles, and these were full sized bottles. I am scared to touch alcohol now, I know I’ll get addicted.
Another thing, I’m ugly. That’s it I’m just ugly, I try to make myself look presentable, but every time I look in the mirror I see one of the ugliest people I’ve ever seen.
I have a feeling, my friends hate me. I barely talk to them, and when I do, I’m usually the one starting the conversation, other than that, nothing. I barely have anything in common with any of them. It’s not like this with anyone else though, they all talk with each other just fine. When we don’t like someone in the group, nobody says anything to them, we just talk behind their back. ( I only do this to fit in and I think it’s really scummy) I have a feeling my friends talk behind my back as well.
Im not smart, or very athletic. To be fair, I’m more athletic then most, but not enough for it to make up for my lack of smarts, I always feel stupid.
I had a great time over on KimetsuNoYaiba but I fucked it right up. It was a great community over there, until I went over the edge, I started posting inappropriate stuff over there, I don’t want to go into it, but if you want to learn more, ask about the u/The_poggers_potato incident. After that happened they all hated me, and I wanted to redeem myself. I decided to wage war against the pedophiles of the community. Through the criticism of the pedos. I got myself a permanent ip ban on Reddit. I was using a different account every half an hour to get my messages across. But it wasn’t working. I made a new account, using a vpn, different email, different browser. And it worked for three days my Reddit account was safe. Until I posted on KimetsuNoYaiba, I was banned a day after, I realised someone recognised me and reported me. That’s when I remembered how shit of a site Reddit is, they would only ban me if the person who reported me was a mod on the community. I tried to redeem myself, but a mod and Reddits corrupt system has stopped me.
That community meant so much to me, and it’s not like it’s over, I’m still at war with the pedos, I haven’t given up. But at some point I’m gonna have to throw in the towel. And it’s truly a shame, being part of that community has made me the happiest I have been in years. But I’ve messed it all up.
To all the great people in that community I thank you. People like u/ApplePitou, u/OkBeautiful1480, u/Johxnny_ , u/Shadow_Huntress12, u/Scout_Trooper_77, u/The_Enmu_Man, u/99980, u/AntacidSpore44. All names off the top of my head, but there are many others too. They have made my day with the things the comment/say.
But I did ruin it for myself, screwed myself over again and again and again. And I hate myself, I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know where to go with my life, I don’t know if I want to go. But I guess I’ll have to see.

First EDC and it just felt so insanely loud no matter how far I went back. Tried to see Tiesto and Zedd but the bass sounded overblown, hard to describe but it felt sharp and not good on the ears. We ended up leaving the set 10 mins in. I’m a huge Kaskade fan and I don’t want to miss this. Is there a good spot to stand? Does the sound get better when you’re slightly towards the front? We tried middle and back and it was shit. Been to a ton of festivals and this has never happened before. Any guidance would be appreciated 😢

However It cause me on & off left ear pains, Left neck tightness.
sometimes right ear ringing/pain too
i get ear ringing on my left too.
and my right cheekbones suddenly randomly hurts
i had chronic sinus. Runny nose/sneezing a lot everyday for years that won't go away

I got an invitation in the mail in a pretty purple envelope covered with flowers and shiny plastic gems. It was for a girls-only sleepover, something I'd never done before. At first, I was really excited, but then I saw that it was from Jane and Mary Bardell.
The twin girls were in my 7th-grade class. They were really quiet and rarely talked. Even though they didn't say much, you could still feel they were there. I remember sitting in front of them one day and feeling their quiet energy behind me.
The back of my neck started to tingle and feel hot. When I looked back, I saw Jane staring at me. Her deep-set dark eyes looked hungry, like she hadn't eaten in days and I was the meat dangling in front of her face. Mary also looked at me, and when she smiled, it almost seemed like she had fangs.
When they did talk, always in perfect unison, they sounded flat and without any emotion. But their serious looks and voices made me feel uncomfortable, and the room felt heavy. Luckily, they usually sat in silence at the back of the class.
One day, they just didn't come to school anymore and stayed home. Maybe their parents decided to school them at home. They lived across the street from me in a neat two-story brownstone house. Their lawn was well-maintained and protected by a sturdy five-foot iron fence.
The curtains in their house were kept closed tight. No light ever came out, even at night. But sometimes, on the second floor, a curtain would move, and I'd see the twins' pale faces looking out. We'd lock eyes for a moment before the curtain closed again.
After they stopped coming to school, some kids from our class started to go missing. First, it was Eddie, who vanished on his way home. Then Katy disappeared the same way. Both of them had walked past Jane and Mary's house before they went missing.
For some reason, I just had a feeling deep down that the twins had something to do with the disappearances. I even wondered if they were really human. Maybe they were vampires. Oh, yes, they were definitely vampires! It all made sense.
"You're going," my mom insisted at dinner when I told her I didn't want to go to the sleepover. I didn't see the point since I could sleep in my own bed. Why stay at someone else's house when I lived just across the street?
I groaned. "I don't want to go. They're so fucking weird.”
"Watch your language!" Both my parents warned me, giving me a serious look.
“It’s been difficult for that family,” Dad said, “The girls had to be pulled out of school because of an illness.”
“What kind of illness?”
“Their parents didn’t say what it was, but they said the girls would like to have friends.”
“Oh, those poor girls,” Mom sighed. “They just want to have a nice and normal sleepover party.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to go.”
“You’re going.”
And that was that.
I wasn't hungry anymore and left my dinner unfinished. I headed straight to my room and glanced out the window. I saw their pale faces peeking through the curtain in their second-floor bedroom. I closed the blinds and turned off the light. There was no way I was going to their house without something to keep me safe.
XXXXXX
“Your house is really nice,” I remarked, placing my sleeping bag and pillow on the floor. I kept my backpack close, making sure the crucifix I borrowed from my parents was safely tucked inside one of its pockets. I really hope my mom doesn't realize it's missing.
I was the only one who had arrived at the Bardell’s house so far. Mrs. Bardell opened the door and greeted me with a big, never-ending smile that looked like it was permanently glued to her face. Her teeth showed through the wide grin, and her lips were covered in a thick layer of red lipstick.
“That's really nice of you," she responded with a smile. “I can see why you get along with my girls.”
Mary and Jane, seated across from me, both nodded and chimed in together, “Yes, she's great, Mom. We're happy we invited her.”
“So, when are the others getting here?” I asked.
“What others?” Mrs. Bardell appeared puzzled.
“Tammy and Harriette. They said you invited them too, and they promised they'd come.”
“Oh, they're not coming anymore. They called just before you arrived to let us know,” Mrs. Bardell explained. Her big, dark eyes moved between me and the twins. “Okay girls, just sit tight for a bit. Dinner will be ready soon.” Then she went into the kitchen.
Fantastic! Just fantastic! Some friends they are. Traitors!
“They didn't tell me…” I mumbled quietly, feeling betrayed. I quickly checked my phone and texted Tammy: So you're just not gonna show up?
The message was stuck on “sending…”
“Don't worry about it,” the twins reassured me. “We'll still have a great time tonight!”
Their idea of a good time was putting on a skit they had practiced the last few days. The twins disappeared upstairs, only to return dressed in their costumes. Mary had on a gray hoodie that I thought I'd seen before, and I noticed a dark crusty-looking red spot on the sleeve. Jane sported a baseball uniform. Mr. Bardell, wearing a smile like his wife, joined in the fun. He was down on all fours, wearing a dog mask that looked surprisingly lifelike.
I sat still on the sofa, feeling completely weirded out.
As Mary ambled around the living room, her hood shielding her face and her hands tucked in her pockets, Jane and Mr. Bardell engaged in a game of frisbee. Mr. Bardell crawled around like a playful pup, zooming across the room and even leaping over the couch. Quickly, I crouched down to avoid getting hit. He then sprang to his feet, his arms bent like a dog's, proudly holding the frisbee in his mouth.
Mary stopped and glanced back. “Cool dog,” she said.
“Thanks,” Jane said, mimicking a man’s low pitch. “What’s your name, son?”
“Eddie.”
My stomach sank. That was the name of our missing classmate.
“Would you like to play with him?” Jane continued.
“I should really get home, my mom–” said Mary.
“One throw won't hurt, would it?”
“I guess not.”
Jane grabbed the frisbee out of her dad's mouth and passed it to Mary. The frisbee soared into the dining room and plopped right onto a plate sitting on the table.
“Oh! It flew into my house,” said Jane.
“I'm sorry!” Mary said.
“That's okay, my daughters are getting a kick out of watching us.” Jane pointed up. “Do you see them over there? Second floor, window to the right.”
Mary waved.
“They told me you're a friend of theirs.”
“Not exactly friends… I mean, we went to the same school. I haven't seen them around in a while though.”
“Why don't you come inside and say hi?”
Before Mary could answer, Mrs. Bardell popped out of the kitchen, saying dinner was served. All eyes turned to me, waiting for me to make the first move.
XXXXX
Vote on the character's next move.

Hi reddit vets. I'm asking about my Golden Retriever. He is 5 and the light of my day most days. Back in January he had a vet diagnose him with an ear infection. His ears had a lot of yeast and his one eye was squinty. He started to get vertigo as well so they put him on antibiotics.
Move to March and his ears are clean but he is squinting his left eye again. We figured we would try antibiotics one more time but the vet said it's possible more is going on. They said we could send him for a MRI but there was no guarantee of a diagnosis. It would cost thousands and be a 6 hour drive to the closest animal facility that could do this. We held off on that and gave him the prescription again.
Now he is acting very needy, he is throwing up and his ears Look clean but I took a qtip and gently swabbed down his ear. It looks like either yeast or dried blood.
We have some of the antibiotics the vet was giving him (we got extra in case we needed to do a third round of treatment) . I don't know what to do at this point. I'm hoping for a second opinion. I hate seeing him hurt. Even if it's not noticeable. Would you recommend trying a third round of antibiotics or the mri. I don't live in or near a city. We live very rural and the drive alone would be a full day if I went there and back.

Hello everyone first post here, just really need advice.
My mum and dad are fighting constantly nowadays. They've been married 20+ years, my sibling and I are in our mid 20s.
The main thing they fight about is that my dad doesn't communicate things to her. For example, he doesn't tell her that he's invited people over for dinner. This was a while ago now and he's since improved so he tells her most important things but today he told her that a group from church were coming for dinner but failed to mention that this one person was also coming. She happens to tutor that person's daughter today so she felt that she needed that information. Cue huge shouting match.
There was apparently also another incident where they went on a trip with a bunch of friends and my dad was talking to someone about our upcoming family holiday to Germany. My mum did not know it was Germany we were going to and made some comment on it, and her friend looked at them oddly. My dad thought he'd told her and said he'd check with me and my sibling to see if he hadn't told any of us. My sibling and I both knew and we thought our mum knew too. She's still mad.
My opinion is that: A) Yes my dad is bad at communicating but he's making an effort, and today was a very particular situation where she happened to be tutoring that person's daughter (she hadn't told my dad about the tutoring either so I especially don't think his oversight was that egregious) B) Neither of these incidents are things to go absolutely ballistic over if you have a healthy relationship C) With the second incident, I don't think it was necessary or productive for her to make a comment on how she had no idea unless she wanted to publicly humiliate my dad and her marriage
Now I think my mum needs therapy because firstly she blows up so so so easily at even the tiniest conflicts. For her the reason for blowing up so much is ALWAYS because "he's been like that for the past 10 years". It's always the straw that broke the camel's back for her. But I've never seen her just moderately angry at him, and also the verbal abuse she throws at my dad when she's angry is, in my opinion, not excusable in any circumstance. From what I know, my dad has not committed any grave sin against her (e.g. cheating). It's always just he forgot to tell her something, he's running his business in a way she doesn't like etc. But the way she screams and criticises him you'd think he's committed some deadly sin against her.
Secondly, when she is angry she doesn't listen to reason AT ALL. Regardless of whether it's my dad speaking or either me or my sibling, she will never listen. We try to explain things to her nicely, calmly, but she just sits there and then picks out certain phrases we've used and criticises them rather than acknowledging the point of what we're saying. Even when my sibling asks her to not interrupt him before he finishes his point, she will literally just keep talking over him in a really loud voice. I ask her to talk a bit quieter because it's hurting my ears FOUR TIMES and she does not lower her voice a single decibel. It's like she becomes deaf when she's angry and it's genuinely childish talking to her when she's in that state.
The problem is she doesn't think one bit that she might be the problem in her fights with my dad. To her, as long as he tells her every little detail and runs his business in the way she wants, their marriage would be perfect. She doesn't realise she is judgmental, a control freak, has anger management issues, and perpetually victimises herself. My dad always apologises for his shortcomings and says he'll make an effort but I've never once heard my mum apologise or admit her wrongs. If she gets too angry she just gets up and leaves the room. She's always been quite childish like this but it's been especially bad recently.
I feel like us suggesting therapy to her will not be received well, but it seems like she really needs it. How do I help my mum?

she's a little over four years old. I'm starting to suspect that she may be autistic? probably high-functioning, though, because she isn't developmentally delayed or anything. she began walking at 13mo which isn't late and said her first word early, at 9mo.
some things that I think are unusual:
• limited facial expression
• not particularly poor eye contact, but much less than other kids, especially when she is paying attention to something else. she will not look at me when I say her name, but she answers by talking.
• she lines things up like bears, she will also only paint dots in straight lines
• only plays games in one way
she plays this game where she is 'walking to school' and finds a cat, she will do this several times over around the room. she lines up bricks and lays on them every single time, not really playing with them. She is also preoccupied with the sound of these bricks hitting each other. At home, she will always tell me about that sound.
• she obsesses over little things that characters on TV do.
on a show, she once saw a boy pack his bag to go hang out with his friends. afterwards she completely forgot what the boy actually did, she just cared about the toy robot he brought with him. for days after, she would build the same robot out of Duplos and pretend to pack her bag as well. she also kept replaying that part of the episode without watching the rest.
• she repeatedly watches a select few Lego videos on YouTube because she likes the sound. she also loves the sound of shoes on wood, and will happily run around the house making that sound.
• she has a meltdown whenever we go to parties or turn on the vacuum. She starts screaming and crying and won't stop till I take her somewhere quiet. This has been happening since she was a few months old. It's strange because other than that, she is a very timid and quiet child.
• every night, I see her moving her fingers strangely over her eyes like puppets. her teachers see the same behavior during naps.
• whenever she sees her younger brother sitting down, she pushes him over on his face. she laughs whenever she does this. but she's generally not mean or anything?
• she seems overwhelmed in bright areas. constantly squinting, talking less. she also falls asleep very quickly after i take her somewhere less bright, like she's tired from all the stimulation or something?
• she has trouble following instructions or picking up a new skill without repeatedly seeing someone else do it. once someone shows her what to do, she understands very quickly, however.
• she is obsessed with this one book about rain. she has read it hundreds of times, but refuses to throw it away or anything. It's in pretty bad shape, but she refuses to leave it alone.
• she is strangely attached to her stuffed dog, creatively named "puppy". she takes it to school every day and sleeps with it every night. if she loses it, she refuses to sleep without it. once, her older sister cut a hole into it. the stuffing was coming out, but she still continued to bring it around everywhere.
• she is obsessed with metal locks. she draws them, she carries them around. she also really likes over-ear headphones. these are in almost all of the cards she makes for me.
• she doesn't react much to pain. she runs, she falls, she scrapes her knee or something, then she gets back up like nothing happened. she skinned her hand once pretty badly and barely cried. she
• her teachers have told me that she is very quiet at school. she doesn't play with other kids unless prompted to.
• she is very controlling of her younger brother, like she's trying to be a second mother.
• she is strangely fascinated with checklists and schedules. I can't even tell you how many times I stumble upon a paper that says "daily routine" or "scedhul" (she can't spell that word yet.) with a checklist underneath. this is really strange for a 4 year old, but it would make a little sense if she was autistic? I know many kids with autism care a lot about routines.
that's pretty much everything. does my little one seem autistic? my other kiddos don't act like this at all.

It was a cold, windy night in November. The kind of night where the wind howls through the trees, making them creak and groan like they’re alive. I was alone in the house. My parents had gone out for the evening, and my older brother was at a friend’s house. They wouldn’t be back until late, so it was just me, the silence, and the unsettling noises the old house made in the dark.
I was in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn, watching a movie to pass the time. I’d turned off all the lights except for the flickering glow of the TV, which cast eerie shadows on the walls. I tried not to think about how quiet it was, how empty the house felt, but the creaking and groaning of the house made it hard to ignore.
Then I heard it. A faint sound, just outside the window. I froze, the remote slipping from my hand and clattering to the floor. The noise was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by the steady thrumming of my heartbeat in my ears. I told myself it was nothing, just the wind or maybe a stray cat, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.
I forced myself to keep watching the movie, trying to lose myself in the familiar story. But then I heard it again—a soft, scraping sound, like metal against wood. This time, it was coming from the back door. I muted the TV and strained to listen, every muscle in my body tense.
The scraping turned into a quiet, persistent rattle, as if someone was trying to pick the lock. I felt a chill run down my spine. My mind raced. Should I call my parents? The police? My phone was in the kitchen, and I’d have to cross the dark hallway to get to it.
I crept off the couch, moving as silently as I could, my heart pounding in my chest. As I reached the hallway, the rattling stopped. The sudden silence was almost worse than the noise. I held my breath, listening for any sign of movement. Then, a soft thud echoed through the house. Someone was inside.
Panicking, I darted into the kitchen and grabbed my phone. I dialed 999, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped it. As I pressed the phone to my ear, I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hallway.
“999, what’s your emergency?” the operator’s voice was calm and steady, a lifeline in the darkness.
“There’s someone in my house,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Please, send help.”
I could hear the intruder moving closer, the floorboards creaking under their weight. The operator assured me that help was on the way, but I didn’t know how long it would take. I needed to hide.
I slipped into the pantry, pulling the door closed just as the footsteps entered the kitchen. Through the slats, I could see a dark figure moving around, searching for something. I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my breathing.
The intruder moved methodically, opening cupboards and drawers, the clinking of silverware and the thud of doors slamming shut filling the silence. I prayed they wouldn’t check the pantry, that they’d take whatever they wanted and leave.
But then the door creaked open, and I found myself staring into the eyes of a masked figure. I screamed, dropping my phone. The operator’s voice echoed from the floor, but I couldn’t make out the words. The intruder lunged at me, and I scrambled backwards, my hand closing around a can of soup. Without thinking, I hurled it at their head.
The can connected with a sickening thud, and the intruder staggered, giving me a moment to escape. I bolted from the pantry, tearing through the house and out the front door. I didn’t stop running until I reached the neighbor’s house, where I banged on the door, sobbing and gasping for breath.
The police arrived minutes later, lights flashing and sirens wailing. They found the intruder unconscious in the kitchen, the mask still on their face. I later learned they’d been a wanted criminal, breaking into homes in the area.
That night changed me. The house never felt the same—its comforting creaks and groans now sounded like threats. And I never forgot the terror of seeing those eyes in the dark, the feeling of being hunted in my own home.

To take off my T-shirts, I kinda pull them off from the back of the collar part way, then get the rest with my arm pulled out of the sleeve. Most blokes I know seem to do the same.
However, women do this thing where they cross their arms and just pull from the bottom of the t-shirt, turning it inside-out and pulling it off entirely in one motion. I'd like to be able to do this because I have long hair and the normal way I do it can make it difficult to grab the neck once it's over my head without pulling my hair as well.
Any time I've tried to do this, it just kinda tugs the T-shirt into my back once I've pulled it half way up and I can't pull it any further. I feel kinda tangled up attempting it.
Am I an idiot? I don't see why this would be something only women are capable of doing.

Welcome back to my running series of WWF PPV Reviews from a ‘blind’ perspective (I have no idea what’s going to happen; the results, the feuds or how good any of the matches will be). I have always heard stories of the attitude era and golden age but never watched it myself so I set myself to watching every single PPV event chronologically. I am also watching Wrestling Bios ‘reliving the war’ series to keep me updated inbetween the events with the feuds, and to get excited about upcoming matches.
Before I review the matches, based on the past few episodes of raw and last PPVs I’ll let you know, going into the event, which match I’m most excited for and which feud I’m most excited to see.
The match I’m most excited to see has gotta be Bret hart vs Undertaker. Two absolute all timers in the ring for the championship at summerslam? I mean come on what else can I pick it’s a sure fire banger.
The feud im most excited to see is actually Mankind vs HHH, I think they’ve got a really good dynamic and opening the show after last Ppv is genuinely exciting.
WWF Summerslam 1997 Match Ratings
HHH vs Mankind Steel Cage Match 2.75/5
Goldust vs Brian Pillman 1/5
The Godwinns vs Legion of Doom 1.25/5
Bulldog vs Shamrock 2.25/5
Los Boricuas vs Disciples of Apocalypse 0.5/5
Owen Hart vs Stone Cold Steve Austin 3.5/5
Bret Hart vs Undertaker 4.25/5
The steel cage match is actually the first I’ve seen since starting this journey so well over a year with no kind of cage match, definitely adds a level of anticipation and excitement.
In terms of the actual match tho it wasn’t anything too special and honestly their match at Canadian stampede was way more entertaining. There were however a couple of completely nuts spots, mankind being suplexed from the top of the cage, and mankind delivering a flying elbow from the top of the cage, he is just an insane man; how he did all these crazy bumps never ending his career super early or anything is just divine intervention. It’s good entertainment but it wasn’t the best match. It is however very telling of what’s to come in the WWF with upcoming PPVs, with hell in a cell and more insane high flying spots.
What I am loving is Mick Foleys character development, he comes to the ring as mankind, does his bang bang as a call back to cactus jack and at the end when he’s hurt, dude loves music plays, his foot starts moving and he starts dancing (ish). Everyone absolutely loved it and so did I.
The Pillman match against Goldust was very boring, I didn’t expect too much as I’m not that big of a Goldust fan if I’m completely honest; I just think he isn’t that exciting to watch. Pillman ends up losing which means… he has to wear a dress on raw? 😂 this whole gimmick match and feud is just an L for me. The crowd was surprisingly into it, but I don’t really know what to say about it, it was just a snooze fest.
Looking this match up I realised Pillman was injured during this event and he sadly passed away two months after this. Rest in peace he was a fantastic unhinged character and that’s a real shame. He just couldn’t perform as his body wouldn’t let him anymore.
Well that’s a rather sour note but let’s move onto the most established entertaining tag team at this point in the WWF legion of doom. But it’s a real shame that they had to get in with the godwinns as when the godwinns were in control which was over half the match they seriously slowed to to a snails pace, holding for way way too long. That spike piledriver at the end was cool by the legion of doom but to be honest most of the match was just another snoozefest. Just skip the last two matches.
Inbetween the next match there’s a SEVEN MINUTE section where they had this million dollar chance between a couple of live contestants and a couple of phone calls, no one ends up winning and it’s just pointless. Man the start to this event has been a mixed bag…
Shamrock actually has a very valid reason to be mad at the bulldog, with him having the bulldog throw dog food on him, so let’s hope this is a physical match to really get this PPV going.
And it was decently physical to be fair to them, I’m not sure I’m shamrock was out on his feet for a portion of it as he was no selling a few punches and had a busted lip so there’d been some sort of connection somewhere. Like I say though the angle they were going for was cooler than the actual match and it was satisfying seeing that after the match shamrock got himself DQd and just lost it, beating the bulldog after he threw dog food on him again, holding a chin lock on him so long he passes out, using finishers in referees, this was cool. The match was about restoring his honour in a way and he certainly did that. The crowd goes nuts and he’s in the ring just screaming, bloody brilliant. The actual match was a little lacking though and this should set up for a good match coming up.
And oh boy was I wrong genuinely I don’t know why but this match was so awful. For pretty much 90% of the time the wrestlers just didn’t know what to do. There were no impressive spots, no playing to the crowd, no psychology just nada. Like the last event I watched the ppv can benefit from less matches that are better booked. I don’t know why this match exists, I don’t know what it achieved. One thing that was insane was the amount of body hair Perez has… like it’s an insane amount, it’s not normal 😂 I couldn’t help but just look at it in complete awe like what the hell am I seeing? But when a man’s body hair is more entertaining than the match that’s a problem. When the pinfall came the crowd literally, I’m not joking, had 0 reaction. Avoid like the plague.
The next match I’m honestly having really mixed feelings about. Owen hart and Austin on paper should be a good match, and that it is… but this is when Austin’s neck was broken and he was temporarily paralysed after a botched piledriver. So this means… Austin is probably gunna go more part time after this. I don’t know this but I’m just assuming but we’ll see. IM NOT READY!!
Before I mention the injury again, the match was going extremely well and it was a tremendously entertaining bout. I find it crazy that they were making a big deal of Owen working the neck only for him to actually break it. The different styles of the wrestlers, Owen being technical and stone cold being a brawler really made for a pure class match. I’d imagine they were going to go a bit longer but had to come up with a new finish on the spot so credit to them for that. And ouch it was a horrible spot to see, knowing what was coming up I winced and cringed so hard when it happened. Owen does a good job of playing up to the crowd after the botch and covering over for the pinfall but seeing Austin just completely dead in the ring like that is heartbreaking after seeing his rise. They played it off so well in fact that the crowd doesn’t really seem to notice. Austin seems to insist on getting himself standing up and raising the belt, and he refuses help until he gets out of the arena, truly amazing dedication to the wwf and why he was and is a superstar. It’s a real shame it had to end like that because again they were performing really well and putting on a good show. Reading about it Austin was out for 3 months after this and apparently Owen hart was meant to drop to his knees not sit down which had a big part to do with the botch. GOD DAMN IT!! But we all know he returns an even bigger superstar, so I’ve got that to look forward to.
Okay enough about the injury, let’s get onto the main event.
Shawn being the referee and knowing the fighting that was happening backstage for real between Bret and Shawn made this really exciting. I bet this is gunna be full of drama!
The match starts off at break-neck pace (pun intended) with Bret hart smashing undertaker across the back with a belt and there’s no DQ because the bell hasn’t been rung yet. They exchange blows together as it goes back and forth in and out of the ring and I’m loving every second. Paul bearer eventually makes his way to the ring only the be smacked multiple times right on the jaw and god there’s something so satisfying about Paul bearer getting clocked. Multiple times Shawn is actually acting as a good referee which adds to the drama as Bret is keeping a close eye on him. Some of the hart foundation also come to the outside of the ring and undertaker does his iconic lean on the ropes to almost backflip outside the ring which looks so good and beats the hell out of them. I thought this would be dramatic!
This match was actually an absolute banger I really enjoyed it. Hart plays his heel perfectly as usual during the whole bout and when he’s eventually victorious the ring is filled with trash and people showering him with abuse. I thought even though this was a pretty long match at 30 minutes they were able to fill most of it with good action. The last 5 minutes were especially dramatic with a steel chair getting involved, Shawn is hurt on the outside and hart smacks undertaker clean across the head with it, Shawn notices the chair when he comes back into the ring and calls Bret out, Bret then spits on Shawn and he ducks as Shawn swings for him with the chair, he hits undertaker and that’s all she wrote. I think the match could’ve benefitted from being a bit shorter in all honesty; focus the action down to a shorter time but a longer match with Shawn as the special referee, undertaker vs Bret, WWF title, you can’t complain about it being too long. I would’ve liked to have seen a bit more offense from undertaker as his striking ability and in ring moves are so exciting to watch. But great match and it felt like a big main event as it should do at summerslam.
Overall the PPV had a great ending, a good start, and a terrible mid card. I really hope they don’t go back to booking boring mid cards with wrestlers they know can’t put on a show, instead they can stick with less matches with more quality. I did enjoy watching this though. I think the PPV will always be known for the piledriver botch but I think the main event is worth a watch as well. I also think this event was worth noting that a lot of people feel this is the beginning of the attitude era, people saying survivor series as well or December 1997 but we’ll see.
Overall rating 2.75/5

First Previous
**Memory transcription subject: Xithan, … hungry Arxur**
*Date [standardized human time]: October 13, 2136*
Holding my gift, I let my eyes slide shut, the idle chatter between Cotton and Upsilta threatening to lull me back to sleep. I had pulled myself up onto my bunk, letting my back rest against the wall, with my tail wrapped around me. This was… pleasant. Calm. I could exist, without the sensation of suspicious eyes constantly on me.
I’m free.
A loud Cotton noise caught my attention– it had to be them, of course, as venlil did not make that same kind of boisterous… laughter, was it? My eyes lazily opened, and I looked to see the two of them sitting next to each other on Cotton’s bunk. The human was laying back on their bed, their legs nearly bouncing with the occasional wheeze between laughs. Upsilta’s face had bloomed orange, most noticeable around their eyes and ears. I wasn’t sure what I had missed, but… it was still odd, to see predator and prey so friendly with one another. Even with all I had seen recently, the Dominion’s teachings still came to mind, trying to tell me what I was seeing was a lie.
Of course, it wasn’t. My eyes couldn’t lie to me, and the Dominion had no power over me. Not here, anyway.
Heavy footsteps were heard at the doorway to the bunks, and Cotton’s laughter was stifled as the human shuffled to sit up. A stressed, exhausted face peered out, glancing across the room. The angry gojid tried not to flinch when she met my eyes, but she didn’t hide it well. Realizing I would have to take more care with my behavior again, I turned my head away, trying to avoid setting off her prey instincts.
Why… am I irritated by this? I’m used to adjusting my behavior around other for all my years–
You didn’t have to do it, a few moments ago.
“Krosa!! Ya changed your mind on the bath–?”
“NO.”
Cotton seemed to deflate at this, sighing before flopping back onto their bunk, letting out an annoyed noise. The venlil gave her a few ear flicks, and a content wag of his tail; probably trying to soothe her. Krosa let out an irritated exhale, before moving towards the human and venlil pair. Surprisingly, she had turned her back to me.
There they were, chatting again. The gojid’s voice was low, Cotton’s energetic as usual, and Upsilta’s, well, soft. Not as soft as his blessed fur, but still.
They paid me no mind as they chatted, and I enjoyed the feeling of sinking into the background. Not having attention on me was… pleasant. I rubbed my snout against my soft, red gift, content at how I was–
Growl.
I blinked, the silence of the room feeling entirely too loud following the rumbling of my stomach.
Hunger.
Looking up, I saw the gojid facing me, her spines up. The venlil seemed anxious as well, moving closer to their human. I couldn’t blame them. But it still–
“See?! How the hell are we supposed to– he eats FLESH, and there’s nothing for him on this shuttle–”
“Krosa.”
“I warned you this was what would happen if we took in a blasted arxur–”
“Krosa.”
“What, Cotton–?”
The tense back and forth made the air in the room feel thick, with the human seeming to get more… frustrated as the gojid’s ranting continued. Cotton looked at me for a moment, before looking back at the angry, prickly creature in front of them.
They’re going to tell.
“I have meat for him.” The fluffy-haired human firmly answered, a gritted stare watching as the gojid processed–
“You. You WHAT?!”
The incredulous rage nearly exploded out of the gojid, as she let out a frustrated snarl; to which Cotton stayed still, refusing to flinch.
“After– AFTER EVERYTHING! You, you brought meat?! And you think you can get upset when– when our kind calls you a predator, for this kind of shit–”
The tenseness of the human felt… odd, with how they normally were. Upsilta already knew of their secret, and didn’t seem angry; but still had an air of uncertain disappointment.
“There’s no changin’ what he can eat, Krosa. An’ I got something we can use to keep him fed without killin’ anything. Just need a sample–”
“NO. God– no, what the FUCK– I should have stayed in my room, you, you’re just–”
Cutting off Cotton, Krosa stepped away from the human and venlil pair, turning to give me a glare, before retreating from the bunk room. Upsilta hopped up from Cotton’s bunk, scurrying to the door and calling out to her. Cotton sat where they were, looking… tired.
“... You have, more meat?” I quietly asked, and the golden-haired human looked up at me, before nodding.
“Yeah. I brought, ah, two bags. I’ll give ya the other one… was hoping the first one would last ya longer, but…” They sighed, pulling their backpack towards them, and starting to dig. They pulled out another bag of dried meat, setting it next to themselves. I could feel my mouth water, and my heart skip a beat at the sight.
Food.
“Cotton?” A soft voice called, as the venlil returned– but stayed in the doorway, not committed to re-entering.
“Yea?” The human replied, still digging through their items; they’d laid out a few that didn’t seem to be what they were looking for.
“What… what did you mean, you have something that can keep… Xithan fed?”
Wait. What exactly did the human mean with this? Although I was fixated on the bag of meat rations, I pulled my eyes away to watch the human, catching the sight of them pulling out a cylindrical, metal object.
“Welllll… ah never told ya why I got, uh, kicked outta the program, did I?”
The venlil’s head tilted, their ears giving a confused twitch. Program - that must have been that human-venlil exchange program. Cotton could see my hunger, and made a motion to mimic… throwing the bag at me? I sat up straighter, and watched as the human effortlessly tossed the bag my way, right into my greedy claws. Unceremoniously, I tore into the plastic, digging out pieces of the dried meat and stuffing them into my gullet.
“So, ah… s’cause of this thing.” Cotton continued, gently tapping the metal cylinder. I glanced up, seeing Upsilta watching me, his fur puffed up, before forcing his gaze to his human.
“Speh, what… well, what is it? It.. it’s not a weapon, right?” The venlil chirped back, their tail swishing back and forth anxiously. The human let out a small laugh, their golden curls bouncing as they shook their head. “Nahhh, well. It ain’t a weapon to me, but… maybe to some of y’all, uh. ‘Prey’, species?”
I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. It… it was a little peculiar, having meat that was dried, but it still tasted good. It still satisfied my hunger. And I didn’t have to tear into a freshly killed gojid, either or eat those processed rations.
“Ah, well, the airport security sure as hell thought it was a weapon. Fuckin’ tool– wonder how long it took for his face to get fixed back up…” Those last words were nearly hissed, an odd glint in the human’s eye. A moment where they eerily reminded me of the humans on the Cradle– how on Wriss could they go from seemingly harmless, to something I’d hate to be on the bad side of–
You bit off two of their fingers. Was that not enough to be on their bad side?
I swallowed a large piece of dried meat. Apparently, that wasn’t the sort of thing that made Cotton upset. Whatever this ‘airport security’ did, evidently had made the human angry.
“–anyway, yea, this ain’t a weapon. S’a way for us to grow food.” The fluffy haired human beamed, looking towards their venlil for approval.
“S-so, no more rations?” Upsilta treaded, and the human let out an anxious laugh.
“U-uh, that’s the thing. It’s food… for me an’ Xithan.”
“... Wait, you mean–?”
“Meat.”
I had paused from my ravenous snacking, answer the venlil’s question for the human. Cotton looked at me, a gentle expression on their face. “Yea, s’right Xithan. Can make meat with this thing. Or, at least, duplicate a sample–”
“Sample?!” Upsilta squeaked out, and Cotton nodded. “Yeah, but hell, I’m fine with doin’ it–”
“NO.” I growled, my tail giving an irritated whip. The human looked at me, seemingly… hurt?
“.. Aww, c’mon, I’m fine with cutting out a piece, it wouldn’t even hurt–”
“Human, did you not hear me before? I would rather starve than ever taste human flesh again.”
The human sighed, rubbing their hair with their good hand. “Listen, I know it wouldn’t taste… the best, but, hell, I’d be willin’ to do it. The thing needs a fresh sample, it doesn’t really like dried or older ones for some reason–”
“I do not care. I refuse to eat your flesh– it was foul, rancid, and made me contemplate just giving up meat and dying.” The growl of my voice grew louder, and Cotton seemed unwilling to back down despite it.
“Fine, maybe… ah, fuck, I can hunt somethin’ down there–”
“Do you really think the gojid will entertain that?” I hissed, my heavy tail smacking against my bunk. “What about the venlil–?”
“Xithan, his NAME is Upsilta. And– shit, I don’t know, I’d just figure it out. There’s enough space on this damn ship to hide a carcass somewhere–” They were frustrated, but it didn’t matter– I would rather starve than taste that disgusting flesh ever again. What, by the prophet were humans made of, that tasted so wretched?
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Cotton set down their ‘meat generator’ on their bunk, before standing. The height difference wasn’t that much, but it seemed to make the human feel better. “Ya only need a lil sample– it can only make a little bit at a time, and it always needs fresh samples, but dammit, it works–”
We were at a standstill; my stubborn refusal, and their inability to back down. I opened my maw once more to remind the human–
“... I’ll do it.” Came the soft, reserved voice of the human’s venlil. Cotton’s face went a shade paler, and they whipped around to look at their exchange partner. “... Upsilta?”
The divinely fluffy venlil gave a gentle sway of their tail, meeting the human’s gaze for a moment, before looking away. Cotton was crouched in front of them, their hands grasping the prey’s shoulders. “... You don’t, you don’t have to do this, s’okay, I’ll figure it out–”
The venlil raised a paw to touch the human’s injured hand. “... You gave enough, already. Plus… he already said he wouldn’t eat your… flesh.” A gentle whistle of a laugh followed that, and then the human was gently holding the venlil’s face, their voice… strained.
“Are… are you sure? I don’t… I don’t wanna ask this of ya.” I couldn’t see their expression, as their back was turned to me, but I could safely assume it wasn’t a happy one.
“It’s… not like you will be able to catch anything in space. And.. Xithan is right; Krosa would probably have your head if she saw you with something you… hunted.” Another paw came up, giving the human’s hand a reassuring pat, before laying their paw overtop it.
I could easily eat venlil meat. Although, it would… clearly be a bit of a sacrifice, having to give up small amounts of their own flesh.
What prey does that?
One that isn’t afraid, clearly.
And one that doesn’t think you’re a monster.
“... I can, ah. Take the sample. I’ll do everythin’ I can to make it as… quick as possible.” Cotton breathed, their shoulders seeming to slump. They evidently really hadn’t wanted their venlil to have to do this. They… cared about him.
A cream-colored fluffy tail gave the human’s side a reassuring tap, before the venlil lifted his head to meet the eyes of the worried predator in front of him.
“I trust you.”
~note: crazy right? and some of you though we wouldn't come back (we still don't have backlog please be patient)
Side story following agent "John"
credits to SpacePaladin15 for the universe: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/u19xpa/the_nature_of_predators/

I believed in fairies as a kid. More than believed in them. I think something terrible happened to me, and I've just buried it until now.
Call me a typical emotion-bottling man, but I have never considered therapy. No matter what I went through, no matter how many times I thought to myself, verbatim, that I should talk to someone about this, I just never thought of it as an option. It simply wasn't on my roster. It was just one of those things that existed on a separate plane of existence than I was living in, never to cross paths or interact lest the universe collapse in on itself.
I have no problem with therapy, don't get me wrong. It isn't like I don't understand the overall appeal. I have plenty of friends who swear by it, swear it has helped them tremendously, including my wife. It just wasn't ever something I thought was in my cards.
"I just never really thought about it," I told Alice one evening, when she had brought the topic up once again after dinner.
There was a serene sense of peace wafting through the entire house that day, and I was feeling content. It was a Sunday, and swimming season, so we had dropped Emmie off that morning at the public pool for practice and gone straight to our favorite breakfast place. The rest of the day was filled with all the conversation that had built up over the week, all the topics we couldn't fully dig into with each other while babysitting our eight year old, and lounging, all crammed in between sporadic bursts of housework and paperwork we had to catch up on. It was the perfect day, in my humble opinion. It was a lovely moment of peace in the midst of a chaotic life, as is life with kids. And now the sounds of Mario Kart drifted in from the living room, Emmie's squeals cutting through the cheery music every now and then, causing Alice and I to share small smiles of acknowledgement.
Oh, to be a child again. Still a little drenched from a post-swimming shower, full of chili, eyes glowing with the reflection of a television screen.
"Well, maybe you should." My wife was scooping leftover chili into a Tupperware with a ladle. Her hair had been tied up like it was every day after dinner, as if she planned to run a marathon rather than do the cleaning up. She wasn't looking at me, dialed into the task at hand.
It's crazy how some parts of my memory could be so good, and others nonexistent.
I reached over from where I stood before the dishwasher, sliding my arm around her waist. She gave me a look, like, what?
"I just don't think it's for me, babe," I muttered, resting my mouth on her shoulder as if I was trying to skip her ears and speak right through her skin. "You know those things make me uncomfortable sometimes."
She let out a half groan, half sigh, setting down the container and the ladle and turning to face me, draping her arms over my shoulders.
"Everything makes you uncomfortable, John."
I smiled, letting my hands fall to her hips. I knew her frustrated act was just that, an act, at least for the most part.
"It's good for you," she continued pointedly, reaching up to tap her pointer finger against my forehead as I swayed her back and forth to a nonexistent tune. "Like medicine. And I know for a fact there are some things you need to work through."
I feigned offense. "You think I'm some kind of nut job?"
"Everyone needs therapy," she snarled, pulling out of my arms, but she didn't resist when I reached out and drew her back in. "Not just nut jobs."
And that was how most of those conversations went. Some got a little more heated, ending with a lightly slammed door (so as not to wake our daughter) and a whisper-shout of "this is why you need therapy!"
I feel I'm making it sound bad, but it wasn't. Even our more serious fights never quite felt like fights. They felt like playing. We were like two cats, biting and tackling and swishing our tails, but never baring our teeth to hiss. I never felt genuine, full-bodied anger towards her, and I knew she felt the same. It sounds sappy, but we were just very in love. I sometimes felt that we had never actually left the honeymoon phase.
I'm also making it sound like that conversation was incredibly common, and it wasn't. It came up maybe once every few months. I knew she was just looking out for me. She knew me better than anyone.
We had met through mutual friends, and we had initially bonded over our terrible childhoods. We both had moms who were out of the picture, and over emotional, over compensating dads, although this manifested in vastly different ways. Alice's mother left her father for a D-list rockstar type, following him on his state wide tour. She would sometimes send Alice letters or postcards from the road, although her dad wouldn't always let her keep them if they seemed to be stained with blood or seemed to have made contact with any strange white powders.
Her dad coped with anger. He never laid a hand on her, but his shouting and the sounds of glass bottles smashing against the walls kept her up almost every night. During the days he'd take her out, buy her things, go mini golfing and bowling and to the movies. Anything to seem more fun than her mother.
My mother passed away on my seventh birthday. She was driving home from work, which was at a law firm half an hour away from our house, when it began to rain. She was texting my dad her ETA when she ran a red light and a semi truck T-boned her, completely obliterating her car.
After that, everything changed. My seventh birthday could've been my twenty-first. At night it was the worst. I remember sitting with my dad as he cried, curled up in a sobbing ball on the filthy living room carpet, whimpering like a kicked puppy. He would scream and wail so loud the walls shook. He would say, over and over as if I wasn't hearing him, sometimes mumbling and sometimes shrieking, "She was cut in half. I'm sorry sir, she's gone. No, there's no chance she survived, she was completely cut in half."
The days were almost worse. During the day, when he could decrease the helpless wails into weeping at the very least, his attention turned to me. He tried to get something out of me, almost silently begging me to break down with him. Every other second it was, "How are you feeling, son? Do you understand what's happening? You poor thing, you must be devastated, your mommy is gone... Don't you want to cry?"
But I couldn't indulge, and I didn't want to. I had to wash the sheets, because he'd pissed them again, and I didn't want him to sleep in it and smell like pee when he took me to school the next day. I had to vacuum the carpet, so the next time he curled up on it and begged God to take him too, when he finally stood up, his cheek wouldn't be caked in crumbs and dust.
I don't know if I ever truly mourned. My mother's death was more like an absence, as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and carved a chunk out of my side, or snipped off a limb. I could still feel her, I could still talk to her, but all I got back was a deep ache and a crushing silence.
I hated how people reacted when I told them my mom was dead, and had been since I was a little boy. I hated the looks on their faces when they asked how she died, and when I told them. How their mouths fell open dumbly and their eyebrows twisted and contorted in sympathetic horror. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," they said, as if there was vomit rising in their throats, and I wanted to say, "Well, you fucking asked, didn't you?"
Alice never reacted like that. In fact, she never really even asked me what happened. We were on our second date, nursing beers while leaning against the pool table a a dingy speakeasy, when she told me about her own mom. It was the first time in a long time I actually felt like the conversation was open, like I could respond and she would listen and care, but not too much. Not an uncomfortable amount. When I told her about my parents she didn't say anything, and her pretty face didn't contort. She leaned over the corner of the pool table and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand.
The day she found out she was pregnant, we promised each other to be better, to not let our child ever have to grieve alone or feel the very specific hopeless terror that only a parent can cause.
So maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe I should have gone to therapy the first time she brought it up, the first time she told me how it had helped her get through her own terrible memories. But if I'm being honest, I didn't think I had anything to get through. I had left it in the past, I had coped so far in my own somewhat crooked way, I didn't want to dig any of that back up. I didn't want to be put back in that place where I was expected to talk, to cry, to open up. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it.
"I was always the therapist," I would say to her with a crooked grin. "And I like it that way."
Then, the dreams started.
I could tell you I don't know what triggered them, I don't know why it was now. But that wouldn't be the truth. I know exactly why I started to remember.
At first, they were brief. Nightmares that I couldn't quite recall or explain, waking up disoriented and a little sick. The rest of my day would feel strange, like I was surrounded by a thick fog. Eventually, they started to wake me up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming, scaring the shit out of my wife. Once I ran to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet. That was when the word "therapy" came up again.
It feels like I've been in a coma for twenty years, and I'm just waking up now.
It's so strange how different the world looks to a child.
I believed in fairies as a kid. Laugh it up if you want. When I turned four, my aunt brought me this book - we've all had one, I think. It was one of those huge hardcover books filled with information about something mythical, with little patches of fabric to simulate a mermaid's scales or a dragon's claw.
Mine was about fairies, and it was so real to me. My mom would sit up with me later than she probably should have, reading to me, placing my hand on the textures to feel. I wanted to know everything about them, I became obsessed, and naturally, my parents played along. They bought me toys, books... every year I had a fae themed birthday cake, and any kid who dared to giggle behind their hands weren't invited to next year's celebration.
When I was old enough to use the internet, supervised of course, I began further research. My mom helped me navigate Wikipedia first, and they had plenty of information to sustain me for a while. My interest turned from wings and magical powers to different types of fae from every corner of the earth, mushroom rings and their alleged distaste for iron. While I still wasn't very good at reading, I would just look at the pictures until she got home from work.
When my mom died, the fairy memorabilia began to amp up. My aunt bought me new books, gave them to me wrapped and tied with ribbons with tear filled eyes, and my dad brought them up whenever he thought I needed comforting and felt strong enough to leave the house. "Wanna go look in the forest for fairies, son?"
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I began to worship the fairies. I was convinced they lived in the forest behind my house, just behind each tree I looked at, hiding from me. I would spend my weekends escaping into the woods with a bucket and a cheap pair of binoculars, positive that this time, this day, I would see one.
At night, when my dad finally passed out in his own puddle of tears and other bodily fluids, I would pray to them. I never believed in God, we weren't a particularly religious family, and besides, I had seen what good He had done for my dad thus far. But I believed in the fairies.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
They never answered.
Until they did.
It was a Friday. I remember now, I'm not sure how I could have forgotten. After school I had sprinted into the shade of the trees before my dad could stop me, gripping the hem of my shirt in my fist, the thin fabric bearing the weight of two handfuls of the shiniest silverware and most colorful buttons I could find in our dusty cabinets.
I had a plan that day. I was going to lure them to me.
My path began in a clearing where I thought a ring of mushrooms may have begun to grow... but even without that, it was just the perfect spot for fairies. I could picture them flitting between the trees, chirping to each other happily, picking wildflowers to weave into flower crowns.
I walked backwards all the way back to my bedroom window, dropping another item every few steps. When I got inside and looked out my window, I could see my trail of shiny things curve through the overgrown grass in our backyard and disappear into the trees.
I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. Tonight, surely, they would come to me. They would show themselves, and they would help me. But after another few late hours of coddling my father, finally convincing him to drink some water and get in bed, I was exhausted. I completely forgot about my plan. When I got to my room I collapsed on my mattress, not even bothering to undress before I closed my eyes.
Then I heard it. The scratching.
I opened my eyes. The moonlight shining through my bedroom window casted strange shadows across my ceiling, shadows of the swaying grass and the creaking trees.
It was strangely silent, other than the sound. Usually there was lots of noise, or at the very least a few crickets, but not tonight. Tonight, I realized, I couldn't even hear the wind.
I sat up slowly, as if in a dream, and looked toward my window. I couldn't see anything out there, nothing glaringly obvious at least, that could be making that noise.
The scratching turned to a tap. Tap tap tap, like a fingernail against a glass. It had a playful air to it, like someone was saying, look over here!
I stood, rubbing my eyes, and stumbled over. The tapping stopped abruptly when I got to the window and peered outside, out to the dark yard, pitch black if not for the moon's glow. The grass didn't sway, the trees didn't creak. I frowned and unlatched the window, sliding it up above my head.
I was right, there was no wind. Not even a gust. Everything was still outside, like it was frozen. I actually started to believe it was frozen, that time had stopped completely somehow, before I saw it.
My trail of silverware and buttons. Sparkling softly in the moonlight.
Disappearing.
It began where the path met the trees, curving off where I couldn't follow it anymore. A fork disappeared right before my eyes, right on the edge. Just vanished, as if someone who was invisible had picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket very quickly.
Then another went, a spoon. Then a particularly large gold button. Whatever was taking them was doing what I had wanted, it was taking my bait, it was coming to me. And it was as if whatever had tapped at my window had wanted me to see this, wanted to show me.
But something felt very, very wrong.
This wasn't how I had pictured it. There was no twinkling, tiny winged thing at my window, winking at me before dashing back into the safety of the trees. There were no secrets being whispered in my ear, no fairy dust or promises of better things.
Something about this wasn't right. It felt like a mimicry, almost a mockery, of what I had imagined. Like something was trying to give me what I wanted, but was rusty at it.
I didn't want this anymore.
My stomach twisted and my hands shook as I pulled the window back down slowly, watching more glittery things disappear from the grass, growing closer and closer. As soon as it was closed I quickly locked it and pulled the blinds shut, turning my back to the window as if something would happen that I didn't want to see.
Nothing happened. The deafening silence continued for a few seconds as my ears strained to hear anything else happening outside. Then the wind picked up, and the sounds of crickets, muffled by my closed window, filled the night air.
I don't remember when I fell asleep that night, I just know I felt unnerved and jumpy for a while. I woke up the next morning feeling guilty. Had the fairies really come last night? Maybe they had come to talk to me, to bring me gifts, favors, and what had I done? I had closed my window on them. I felt ungrateful. Why had I even been scared? Because it was dark outside? What was I, a baby?
When I opened my window and peered outside, I gasped. The trail of silverware and buttons was completely gone, all the way up to the last one, which I had placed on my windowsill. In its place was a shoe. I didn't know what kind of shoe it was, but it looked sort of nice, fancy. I remember smiling out the window as I opened it, as if they were looking, and taking my gift.
How could I forget that night? How could I have forgotten what happened after? I feel crazy, either like I made it all up or like I've made up everything since then, like my life isn't truly my own.
I remember telling my dad. I remember saying, "Dad, the fairies came last night!" and the absent smile he gave me.
Until I showed him their gift. The shoe. Instantly his face went pale and he snatched it from my hands, staring at me as if I was something unholy.
"Where did you get this, Johnny?"
"The fairies, dad, I told you!"
He didn't respond. Just gave me another long, solemn look, before turning away from me, still holding the present I received close to his chest. I was upset, but I knew better than throwing a tantrum. That would be too much emotion anyways, too uncomfortable. Even back then, I didn't know how to handle those things.
I didn't show him their gifts after that. I didn't want to risk having them taken away. I tried not to be scared of the fairies, even though they always came at night, but I didn't go to my window when they came anymore. I read everywhere that fairies didn't particularly like to be seen, even though this one seemed to want to be. It always began with tapping, but otherwise complete silence that almost felt like it was swallowing me... and eventually the tapping would stop, the silence would pass, and I would fall asleep. In the morning there was always another gift for me, sitting on my window sill. A sparkly gold ring, the other matching shoe, a hat... I smiled when I took every one, wanting them to know I was grateful. And I would leave things for them too, little sweets or shiny things like coins or paperclips that I found on the ground at school.
Things seemed to get better with my dad for a while. He kept to himself more, he was quieter. At night he would cry softly in his room, rather than his uproarious wails that I used to have to quell so the neighbors wouldn't come knocking. During the day, he would talk to me, but more casually. He didn't ask me how I was feeling anymore, or tell me to let it out.
I hoped this was the fairies. I felt invincible, like I had a secret superpower that no one knew about. I was friends with fairies.
Then one night, everything changed.
It started with the tapping, as always. That night I was fast asleep, catching up on well earned rest since the nightly therapy sessions had ceased.
The tapping woke me. It was that loud. It was louder than usual... but it seemed like it stopped abruptly as soon as I raised my head to look.
That was different...
That night, I had left my blinds up and my window open by accident. Since that first night, even though I wasn't scared anymore, I had always closed them... but this time, I must have forgotten.
It was silent outside. It seemed darker than usual. I could almost make out something, a shape, way on the other side of the yard, but it was too dark and I was too far away to tell.
That feeling from that first night retuned. A twisting like a hand reaching into my stomach and mixing things around, a heavy feeling in my chest like someone had stolen all of the air from my room, even though the window was open. The silence seemed to crush me, bearing down on me from every angle, making my ribs hurt.
The feeling that something was very wrong.
I don't remember deciding to stand: looking back, I have no idea why I would do that in my state of fight or flight. I don't know if I consciously chose to. I don't remember walking over, but I remember getting there, my hands on the windowsill and my head poking out into the completely still night air.
There was something there. On the edge of the trees. Right where I had seen that first fork disappear into thin air. I squinted, leaning further into the darkness to try and make out what it was.
When I finally did, the outline taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to shake uncontrollably. I remember that I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare.
Two legs stood in front of the trees, facing me. Two legs, a blood-soaked pair of slacks, no shoes on the purple, swollen feet. And a jagged, violent rip in the torso where the rest of my mother's body had been severed from its lower half.
It took me a while to realize that the legs weren't standing on their own. They began to move, jerking clumsily toward the window, like something I couldn't see was struggling to hold them up. I finally forced myself out of my trance and fell to my carpet, vomiting.
I don't remember much else about that night yet. My dad came running when I started crying, I'm sure, but he didn't see what I saw. My mom's legs were gone, or hidden. Because they weren't for him.
They were for me.
We moved after that. Before now if you had asked me why we moved so far away so suddenly, I probably would have mumbled something about the grief, and it being too hard to stay where my mother had died. But I remember why now.
It was because the next morning, when I checked my windowsill, there was a hand. My mother's hand. Purple and stiff, and missing her gold wedding ring. Reaching, fingers rested against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
Like it had been tapping.
I don't want to think about what else it might have brought, had we stayed.
That thing, whatever it was, wasn't my mother, and it wasn't a fairy. I had invited something else with all my praying, with all my naive and innocent beliefs, and with all my bottled up emotions. I had invited it, and I had let it in.
And then I had forgotten everything. Maybe I bottled that up, too.
Now I remember. Now I'm having nightmares, and waking up with that sick feeling in my gut, my eyes jumping to our closed bedroom window.
Because a week ago, my daughter woke me up very early in the morning my jumping on our bed. A week ago, she shook me awake, her eager smile stretching all the way across her face. A week ago, she told me, "Dad, the fairies came last night!"
She showed me a doll, a ballerina, with a pink tutu and beautiful long blonde hair.
And now, with all these terrible memories hitting me like cold water to the face, only one keeps me awake at night.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
It has granted two of my wishes, in its own twisted way. My father grew distant from me and my mother was brought back in pieces.
I'm happy now. But I don't have peace. I don't think I'll ever fully have peace, at least not with a child and a wife to try and provide for, and not with all of these memories.
So what has it come back for?