My water broke last Wednesday at 1am with contractions starting at 1am,, but I did not give birth until Friday at 4PM.
A lot of things went wrong.
I was overwhelmed and wanted a vacuum assist after basically 37 hours of labour and 2 hours of pushing. The OBGYN did an episiotomy and cut an artery resulting in 3L of blood loss. Soon after they stitched me close, when they were collecting the gauze and things to measure blood loss, they were unable to locate a piece of packing gauze and had to do a uterine massage to ensure it was not left inside of me. I was then not catheterised when I should have been, so by the time it was done I was so swollen the midwife couldn't tell if she was in the urethra as it was all blood. They pulled the catheter and did it a second time.
I also hurt my finger during labour. I thought it was a dislocation as I have dodgy joints. Before I was discharged on Monday, a midwife was concerned by how swollen and bruised it was so I was sent for an xray. I have a complete fracture and because I was told to continue using my hand, it became displaced. There was also a sus spot on the xray, and I was informed of the break with, "it's probably not cancer, but..."
There are other items but these have had the most significant impact. I am relieved that my daughter and I made it home, but i don't know how to do this. My husband is traumatised. When she was put on my chest, she wasn't breathing/moving, and had to have her lungs suctioned a couple of times. I kept asking if she was okay, and he made the decision to tell me she was fine even though he didn't know if she was or not, or if I would survive.
The public hospitals in my state don't allow partners at night, so it was just my daughter and I Friday-Sunday night. She did not go down to sleep easily and still does not. Tonight, I feel like she legit fed from 6PM-2AM and then wouldn't let me put her down at all as she would only sleep on me.
I feel like a complete failure. I still don't know how to swaddle or confidently change nappies. I was stuck in a hospital bed when the midwives showed my husband. And I am getting so frustrated at everything. We are about 36 hours away from my daughter being a week old, and I don't feel like I can do this.

2 year old daughter has a hairline fracture in her femur and will be in a cast for the next ~6 weeks. They said she cannot walk for at least 2 weeks. She is normally a very busy and active girl. Any advice on how to make these next few weeks a little better for both her and I ?

Female 18 5’7 140 lbs no medications
I was in a rough bike accident about two weeks ago where the blunt end of my bike handle jabbed the intersection of my right femur and pelvis. This left a hand-sized bruise, which has since faded, and two finger-sized hard lumps that can be felt through my skin and hurt to the touch. I’m especially concerned because I’m unable to squat deeply because the lumps are extremely sore when rubbed together.
Is this a sign of a fracture? How can I make it go away?

I just bought a house. In the garage, there is a straight line hairline fracture that maybe is 10 feet long across the ceiling. Above this is the master bedroom and the floorboards squeak a ton and make odd noises above this hairline fracture. Are these two related by chance? The seller said they patched the roof of the garage (towards the end of where the hairline fracture is) because they tried to repair the squeaking noise upstairs. They clearly did not succeed. Can anyone shed light on this?

• DISCLAIMER: I AM SAFE, I AM NOT A DANGER TO MYSELF OR ANYONE ELSE! *

that being said, I have a dark sense of humor and am in absolute agony so I might say something weird but I am in no way planning on leaving this world anytime soon!
When do you relent and go to the ER when you KNOW it isn't life or death, it just hurts THAT BAD, to where you understand why some people choose to take the train out ya know? My comment history has a TON of details but basically I have 2 problem areas that are both in FULL flare, my si joint (mainly the right side but the left has started having its own issues since the right is SO bad) and my right rib/shoulder blade/thoracic spine area. The si we are in the process of figuring out and even though it's awful I know my dr will send me for an mri of it on Thursday at my apt and hopefully from there to either ortho or neuro for more help since pain management has said they can't help anymore.
The other issue though with my right upper back/shoulder area has been a chronic issue for YEARS until it started flaring about 3 months ago (after a consensual night with hubby over stretched it we think, but not sure) and in the time since then I have gotten to the point of not being able to breath full breaths no matter how hard I try bc of the amount of pain it causes.
I have been vommiting daily from the pain I'm in. I have gone to 3 Dr's and they have ordered imaging for the wrong area, I went to urgent care last week after my family begged me and they did a chest xray finally but said there was too much inflammation to tell if there was a dislocation or fracture and recommended an mri. They gave me a shot of tordol which did help a bit. 3 days later (last friday) I asked pain specialist for an mri and showed them the report from urgent care. He said he would put in an emergency referal for a thoracic mri. Called thismorning and they hadn't even submitted it yet, then when I called this afternoon they said someone would call me back but that it was taken care of. No call back, called insurance and they haven't received the referal or whatever still.
I see my primary again Thursday morning. Do I keep touching it out and just hope she orders the RIGHT area this time-she ordered c-spine last visit even though I told her specifically it was NOT my neck for this issue).
I know they aren't going to do surgery, hell they probably won't even do imaging honestly but I AM IN SO MUCH FUCKING PAIN. A huge part of me doesn't want to go bc the fear of it being pointless (as it has proven to be every time before), along with the being treated like a drug seeker and all the other wonderful things that come with 18+ hrs in the er. My motto has always been ER IS NOT FOR PAIN (for myself, not for anyone else) unless I think I legitimately might die or need IMMEDIATE surgery. But there is a small part that is growing by the day as the pain continues that thinks MAYBE this is where we draw the line bc if it hurts THIS bad for THIS long then something is WRONG and maybe they will see it and be able to provide even SOME relief (like if it is a dislocated rib they could put it back? Idk).
When I got to this pain Dr I'm with now 2 yrs ago he took me off 99% of my meds and I've been going down hill much quicker since. About 6 months ago I started sprinting for the ground and have been begging at every apt for help, literally unable to talk without tears trying to explain JUST how severe everything has gotten. The pain I'm in now had me to a point of digging out a butrans patch from 5yrs ago just to be able to move enough to bathe......I have a couple days before this patch is toast and I am TERRIFIED of how bad that's going to be bc he will not budge on my meds (ZERO long acting, min muscle relaxer 1x a day, 3 Norco a day) bc of "practice policy "
I THINK* I'm rambling at this point... idk, would you go?
My plan as of now is to drop off the kids at school tomorrow and go into the er right after so it's shortly after shift change and I won't be in any rush at all (for at least 7 hrs lol) but also it will hopefully not be too busy bc I feel like an ass going in the first place.
Editing- besides the vomiting from the pain, I have also had tons of migraines (or one REALLY long one that lessens sometimes), extra numbness and tingling compared to normal in my face and arm,hand, fingers on the right, I have random "hot spots" under the skin, like as if I leaned against a stove burner for a sec but there is no change visually externally, and a low grade fever of 101 or less since yeaterday. I'm positive there's nerve and muscle issues bc of these but does that actually make it RISKIER or just more painful?

New Chapter on every MWF (Monday, Wednesday,Friday)
[First] [[Next>]
Chapter 17: The Escape Plan
Gribble huddled in the corner of his cramped, gloomy cell. The damp stone walls seemed to close in around him, making him feel even smaller than he already was. A chill seeped into his bones, causing him to shiver and wrap his arms tightly around himself. The only sound was the steady drip, drip, drip of water echoing in the dungeon.
The heavy iron cuffs clamped around Gribble's wrists felt as cold as ice against his skin. They weighed him down, a constant reminder that he was trapped in this awful place. Gribble's mind raced with frantic thoughts, zipping around like angry bees in his head. He knew he had to find a way out, and fast. If he didn't escape soon, the wicked goblin king Grimrock would surely snatch him up.
Gribble squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to calm the whirlwind of worries swirling inside him. "Come on, Gribble, think!" he muttered to himself, his voice small and shaky in the gloom. "You've got to come up with a plan. You can't let Grimrock win!"
As Gribble sat there, his back pressed against the rough stone wall, a tiny flicker of an idea began to glow in his mind. His eyes popped open wide as he remembered his special power - the ability to create itty-bitty flames no bigger than a seed. A surge of hope bloomed in his chest, spreading through him like a warm sip of tea on a chilly day. Maybe, just maybe, his little flame seeds could help him break free!
Gribble took a deep breath, trying to steady the nervous fluttering in his stomach. He knew he had to be extra careful and sneaky if he wanted his plan to work. The guards couldn't catch even a hint of what he was up to, or else he'd be in even bigger trouble.
Moving as quietly as a mouse, Gribble inched his hands towards the lock on his cuffs. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he peeked around the cell, making absolutely sure no one was watching. The sturdy metal of the cuffs seemed to mock him, daring him to even try to break free. But Gribble set his jaw in determination, refusing to let a silly old lock get the best of him.
With trembling fingers, Gribble brought his hands close to the lock, so close he could almost feel the chill of the metal against his skin. He took one more quick look around the cell, double-checking that the coast was clear. "It's now or never," he whispered to himself, gathering every scrap of courage he had.
Gribble closed his eyes and pictured the inside of the lock in his mind, like a tiny metal puzzle waiting to be solved. He focused hard, calling forth the tiniest flame seed he could muster. The little spark danced on his fingertip, no bigger than a grain of sand.
As Gribble was concentrating, he wondered for a moment, a little question began to niggle at the back of his mind, like an itch he couldn't quite scratch. Why hadn't the magic cuff stopped his own special powers from working? Gribble tilted his head to one side, his brow furrowed in thought. "Hmm, maybe what I can do isn't really magic after all," he mused, tapping his chin with one finger.
But then, quick as a wink, a big grin spread across Gribble's face, and he gave a carefree shrug. "Ah, who cares about all that complicated stuff anyway?" he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
With the utmost care, Gribble guided the flame seed towards the lock, his forehead crinkled in concentration. The bitty flame twirled and spun like a playful fairy as it slipped into the nooks and crannies of the cuff. Gribble held his breath as he watched it work, his heart thumping in anticipation.
The flame seed nestled into the lock like a baby bird in its nest, its soft glow casting eerie shadows on the dungeon walls. Slowly, slowly, it began to heat the metal from the inside, sapping the strength from the cuff bit by bit. Gribble felt a flicker of pride as he sensed the metal starting to yield to his clever little flame.
"That's it, just a little more," Gribble whispered encouragingly to the flame seed. He kept his eyes glued to the cuff, watching for any telltale signs of weakening. The warmth of the metal seeped into his skin, a tangible reminder of the progress he was making.
As the flame seed worked its magic, Gribble's ears perked up at the sound of distant footsteps echoing down the dungeon corridor. His whole body tensed, and he fought the urge to yank his hands away from the cuff. "Steady, Gribble," he told himself firmly. "You can't stop now."
The footsteps grew louder, the clomping of heavy boots against stone getting closer and closer. Gribble's heart raced like a galloping horse, and beads of sweat formed on his brow. He silently pleaded with the flame seed to work faster, knowing he was running out of time.
Just as the footsteps reached a crescendo, the metal of the cuff finally gave way with a soft, barely audible click. Gribble's eyes flew open wide, hardly daring to believe it. The flame seed had done it! The cuff was weakened, compromised by the heat.
Gribble quickly extinguished the flame seed and tried to arrange his features into a look of hopeless defeat. He couldn't let the guards suspect anything was amiss. The cell door creaked open, and two burly trolls stomped in, their faces twisted into sneers.
"On your feet, prisoner," one of them growled, roughly hauling Gribble up by his arms. Gribble let himself hang limp in their grasp, playing the part of the beaten-down captive. Inside, though, his heart soared with a flicker of hope.
As the guards marched him out of the cell and into the winding dungeon corridors, Gribble's mind raced ahead, already plotting his next move. He knew he had to bide his time and wait for just the right moment to make his escape.
The damp air closed in around him as they walked, the guards' tight grips digging into his arms. Gribble stumbled along between them, his bare feet scraping against the rough stone floor. With each step, he focused inward, reaching out with his mind to the slumbering earth vines he knew lay hidden beneath the dungeon.
"Wake up, my green friends," Gribble called out silently, pouring all his strength and will into the plea. "I need your help to bust out of here!" He felt a stirring deep in the ground, a faint pulsing of life answering his summons.
The guards, completely oblivious to Gribble's mental conversation with the earth, trudged onward, their heavy boots thudding against the floor. They yanked him around corners and down narrow passageways, the labyrinth of the dungeon seeming to close in around them.
As they walked, Gribble sent tendrils of his thoughts snaking through the cracks and crevices beneath the dungeon, coaxing the earth vines to follow. He could sense them stretching and unfurling, their roots creeping through the soil like a thousand tiny fingers.
Gribble's heart hammered against his ribs as he gathered his power, readying himself for the crucial moment. Just as they turned down a particularly dark and dank corridor, he unleashed a silent command to the earth vines, urging them upward with all his might.
The vines burst through the stone floor in an explosion of dirt and rubble, their green tendrils writhing and twisting like angry serpents. The guards cried out in shock, their grips on Gribble's arms loosening for a split second as they tried to dodge the sudden eruption.
Seizing his chance, Gribble wrenched himself free from the guards' slackened grasp. He summoned the earth vines to his aid, directing them towards the weakened cuff on his wrist. The vines surged forward, their strong fibers seeking out the cuff's vulnerabilities and latching on tight.
Gribble gritted his teeth as the vines constricted around the compromised metal, their grip as unyielding as iron. The cuff groaned and strained under the onslaught, hairline cracks spiderwebbing across its surface.
The guards, recovering from their initial surprise, lunged for Gribble with outstretched hands. But the vines held fast, anchoring Gribble in place and fending off the guards' grasping fingers. Gribble poured every ounce of his strength and focus into the vines, willing them to crush the cuff once and for all.
With a final, wrenching twist, the vines shattered the weakened metal, sending shards of the cuff flying through the air like glittering confetti. Gribble's hand was free at last! He flexed his fingers, marveling at the rush of liberation that flooded through him.
The guards, their faces contorted with rage and disbelief, redoubled their efforts to recapture him. But Gribble was too quick, too slippery. He ducked and wove between them, his small size and agility working to his advantage in the narrow confines of the dungeon corridor.
Desperation lending speed to his feet, Gribble raced down the passageway, the earth vines slithering along beside him like loyal companions. The guards gave chase, their angry shouts and pounding footsteps echoing off the stone walls.
Gribble's lungs burned and his legs ached as he ran, but he pushed himself onwards, knowing that stopping meant capture and a fate worse than death at the hands of Grimrock. He had to find a way out, had to taste the sweet air of freedom once more.
Just as the guards began to close in, their hot breath panting at his heels, Gribble made a snap decision. Gathering every last scrap of power within him, he focused his mind on the one place he longed to be more than anything - outside the dungeon walls, beneath the open sky.
With a blinding flash of light and a rush of displaced air, Gribble vanished from the dungeon corridor, leaving the guards grasping at empty space. He materialized in a sprawl of limbs on the soft grass outside, the sudden brightness of the sun making him blink and shade his eyes.
For a moment, Gribble simply lay there, his chest heaving as he gulped in lungfuls of fresh, sweet air. The vastness of the sky stretched above him, an endless expanse of blue that seemed to welcome him into its embrace. Gribble felt a grin spreading across his face, a bubble of pure, unadulterated joy welling up inside him.
He had done it. Against all odds, he had outsmarted the guards and won his freedom. Gribble pushed himself to his feet, his legs still shaky from the wild rush of his escape. He knew he couldn't linger here for long - Grimrock and his army would surely be searching for him, eager to drag him back to the dungeon and make him pay for his defiance.
But for now, in this one perfect moment, Gribble reveled in the feeling of the moonlight on his face and the earth beneath his feet. He had proven to himself that he was more than just a small, insignificant goblin - he was a force to be reckoned with, a master of his own destiny.

When I was ten, I formed a junior detective squad.
Mom bought me the entire box set of What's New Scooby Doo, and I was inspired to start my very own detective gang. I held auditions outside the gymnasium at recess (serious enquiries only) after a number of kids tried to apply for the role of Scooby Doo despite me reiterating I was not interested in playing make believe.
When I was laughed at in class, I made posters strictly asking for SERIOUS wannabe detectives, even going as far as using my Mom’s printer to make flyers, sticking them all over the school.
Auditions were simple. I asked them to solve a simple riddle.
Whoever impressed me got to sign their name down, and I’d get back to them.
I spent three days sifting through kids who definitely had charm, but they lacked the intelligence of a junior detective. Most kids were only auditioning to make fun of me, anyway.
Still, though, I didn't give up.
My flyers had five requirements:
1). You had to be smart.
2). You were not allowed to be a scaredy cat.
3). You had to accept your inevitable death at the hands of our town’s evil villains.
4). You had to have a fully registered driving licence (I quickly changed this to a bike).
5). You cannot have a criminal record.
(I later scribbled this one out, writing over it. *“You cannot have any tardies.”
Narrowing the applicants down to three kids, all of whom failed to share my enthusiasm for solving cases. The kids I picked didn't even know how to make plans, and when I invited them to my house, they stole my Mom’s necklace.
I didn't even need to solve the mystery of who stole Mom’s necklace. The girl was wearing it at school. I punched her in the face, and was immediately sent to the principal’s office. When I was being given the mother all lectures, the door quietly opened, a head peeking through.
It was Ben Callows, a freckly kid with overgrown brown hair hanging in his eyes. Ben really needed a haircut.
He was always wearing the exact same baseball cap, and I found myself wondering if it was permanently glued to his head, stuck on top of unruly brown curls practically matted to his forehead.
In class, Ben was also known as Bloody Ben. In the second grade, the boy had a nosebleed in the middle of a spelling test, bleeding all over his paper.
It's not like he didn't try and detach himself from the name.
Ben brought in Digimon cards, so kids would call him Digimon Ben instead.
Then he “accidentally” spilled yoghurt down his shirt in hopes we would call him Yoghurt Ben. But no. The kids in our class were relentless in reminding him of his name. No matter what he did, he was still Bloody Ben, and when anything related to blood came up in class, fifteen pairs of eyes would swivel to him, like he had invented the concept of bleeding.
I feared the nickname would follow him to junior high.
Ben didn't wait to be let in. He didn't even knock, striding in with his arms folded. Over the years, Bloody Ben, had definitely soured his personality.
He smiled rarely, and when he did smile, someone was falling over or hurting themselves.
Which definitely strengthened the claims of him being a sociopath.
The rumor mill was churning, with the latest claiming Bloody Ben killed his cat. That wasn't true. Ben’s cat was seventeen with cancer, and that was why he was sobbing all the way through reading time.
According to Ellie Daly, however, Ben had killed and dissected his kitty, and buried her in his Mom’s flowers.
Now, my principal did not like being interrupted, especially when she was in the middle of screaming at me.
Principal Marrow was old old (like, thirty, in my ten year old mind) stick thin like a pencil, and always wore the same stained sweater.
She used to be pretty, but I was convinced she had kissed a frog and been cursed. After our old principal suffered a stroke, she stepped in as a temporary replacement, and since becoming principal, had banned my favorite book series, colored shoe laces, and hamburger helper, even officiating a uniform.
(vomit green shorts and a tee, and plain white sneakers).
Kids were convinced she was a witch, and I kind of believed it.
Principal Marrow’s whole existence was built on sucking the fun out of school.
I was already reprimanded for my mystery gang flyers.
Her office smelled of peppermint and she was definitely sneaking sips of whisky in her coffee cup. I could see the bottle sticking out of the trash.
She straightened up, folding her arms across her chest, squinty eyes narrowing at the boy. I had spent the whole time she was lecturing me trying not to cry, my fists bunched in my lap.
I took the distraction as the perfect opportunity to swipe at my eyes, allowing myself to breathe.
Ben Callows was her victim now.
I was right. The woman's voice was like a thunderclap in my ears.
“You better have a good reason for not knocking, young man.”
Ben wasn't fazed by her tone. “You took my Switch two weeks ago,” he said, “I want it back, or I’m telling my Mom.”
At first, I thought I'd misheard him.
No, I was pretty sure he'd threatened our principal.
I swore I heard all of the breath sucked from the room.
“I'm sorry,” Principal Marrow cleared her throat. Her soft tone was dangerous.
She wasn't being nice. The lady was about to explode.
I could see visible veins straining in her temples, her right eye twitching.
It was straight out of a cartoon.
“Did you forget something, Ben?”
Ben sighed, like she was inconveniencing him.
He held out his hand. “Please can I have my Switch back? It counts as stolen property. Give it back, or I'm telling my Mom.”
The kid put so much emphasis on the word please, I couldn't resist a smile.
I think our principal was too shocked to get angry.
“Get out.” She said, firmly. “I don't have your gaming device.”
“It's in your drawer.” Ben nodded to her desk, “Under your divorce papers and the restraining order ordered by Jake Willow, the seventeen year old boy you've been having math ‘tutoring sessions’ with.” He quoted the air, his gaze lazily rolling to me. “Tutoring”
Principal Marrow went deathly pale, her eyes darkening.
“Benjamin Callows–”
“The school already knows about the restraining order, but your uncle is the head of the Board of Education, so all you get is a slap on the wrist and a warning to leave the boy alone."
Ben continued, and I found myself mesmerised by his words. He was a natural, his expression stoic, mouth curved with satisfaction that wasn't quite a smile. “However.” He held up his phone, pulling it away at the exact moment the teacher attempted to grab it. “You were outside Jake Willow’s house at 6:12am, drunk, and trying to climb through his window, which, I think violates the restraining order, does it not?”
Ben pretended to think real hard, his gaze flicking to the ceiling.
“I mean, I'm just a kid, right?” His mouth curled into the hint of a smirk
“What do I know, huh?”
Principal Marrow’s expression twisted, her lip wobbling.
“Mr Callows, remove yourself from my office, or I am calling your father.”
Leaning comfortably against the door, Ben’s lip twitched.
“Why? Are you planning on telling my Dad about your relations with a teenage boy, or will I have to tell him instead?”
I was enthralled, and fully disgusted, making a move to inch away from the woman.
“But it doesn't end there.” Ben continued. He straightened up, taking slow, intimidating steps towards the woman's desk. “You don't even want Jake, do you? Because, once upon a time, you were in love with his father. Jason Willow. You despised him for rejecting you, so you decided to defile his son.” Ben leaned over the principal’s desk, slipping his hand into the drawer, and pulling out his switch.
Painfully slowly.
She stood there, speechless, her shoulders trembling.
Ben smiled, and I found myself liking it.
“Thank you!” He said, waving the console in her face. Ben mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key.
“My lips are sealed.”
Ben’s half lidded eyes found mine. “Are ya coming, Panda?”
I forgot my own nickname.
Panda.
I wore my Mom’s eyeliner because I thought it looked cool.
It did not.
Finding my breath, I snapped out of it.
Jumping up, I followed him out of the office, and when the two of us were safely on the hallway, I burst into hysterical giggles. “How did you know all of that?!” I whisper- shrieked.
Ben surprised me with a splutter. “Wait. You believed me?”
Something very cold trickled down my spine.
I stopped walking. “You lied?”
He shrugged. “I had a dig around her office before she caught me a few days ago,” Ben swung his arms, a smile curling on his mouth. “There's no restraining order, but there is prescription anti-psychosis medicine, and an extremely detailed story on her laptop about a teachestudent romance, which I presume is a self insert.”
Ben shot me a sickly grin. “The school refused to make her condition public.”
He prodded at his own cotton shirt embroidered with the school emblem.
“Why do you think she's made all these dumb rules? The woman is a certified Looney Tune.”
I nodded slowly. “Wait. What about Jake and his dad?”
“I made them up.”
I choked out a laugh. “And… the video?”
Ben walked faster, pulling out his phone and shoving it in my face. The video was real. Principal Marrow was walking around in circles, draped in her nightgown. “It's her own house,” he explained. “She locked herself out.”
Nodding slowly, I was in awe. Bloody Ben was kind of fucking amazing.
“But the restraining order isn't real.”
Ben raised a brow, coming to an abrupt halt. It was his smile that cemented his place in my gang. His lack of empathy for a woman he had gaslit into being a disgusting human being. Ben Callows wasn't exactly what I was looking for, but he fascinated me. Maybe for the wrong reasons. “Her filing cabinets are filled with tinned cat food, Panda,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, “I’m not psychic, but I thiiiiink we’ll be okay.”
I turned to him, unable to stop myself jumping up and down with excitement.
“Will you be my first?!”
Ben inclined his head. “Will I be your what?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. I mean, will you join my mystery gang?”
The boy’s eyes lit up, and I shoved him playfully.
“To solve real cases,” I corrected myself. “Not make them up.”
Ben wore a real, proper smile. But there was something in his eyes, a darkness that was so hollow and polluted and wrong, I pretended not to see it for the sake of his smarts and intellect. “Well, if you insist, sure!” Ben held out his hand, and I shook it. I'll be your first.”
We found our second member, who was, ironically, looking for her glasses under the table in class. Lucy Prescott, the quiet girl, was born to be with us.
The class eraser went missing, and she found it in the blink of an eye.
When questioned, Lucy’s face turned as red as her hair. “I asked everyone in the class and followed the clues to the last person who had it,” she pointed to Chase Simpson. “Which was Chase, who was throwing it at Marcus Calvin.”
Twisting around in my chair, I aimed to get Ben’s attention. But he was already looking at me, chin resting on his fist, eyes ignited with excitement.
The two of us cornered Lucy after class, and when she motioned for us to get back, I dragged Ben (who was a little too excited) to my side.
Lucy looked mildly horrified when I said, dangerous cases, though her expression pricked with intrigue.
She agreed, her gaze lingering on Ben, cheeks smouldering.
Our last two members were a surprise.
Violet Evergreen was what you would call popular on the middle school hierarchy. Not just because her mother was the mayor, but because Violet could get away with murder. The girl refused to wear the school uniform, coloring a single purple streak in her hair to cement herself as the it girl.
She was also one of the girls who started the Bloody Ben rumor.
Ben, Lucy, and I were sitting on the grass during recess, trying to come up with a name for our detective service, when Violet came storming over, hands planted on her hips. She was copying how her mother held herself during town meetings.
“What are you doing?” Violet demanded.
Lucy opened her mouth to answer, Ben nudging her to shut up.
“Making a mystery gang.” I told her. “Why?”
Violet inclined her head. “Oh.” She folded her arms. “Well, can I join?”
Ben stood up, stepping in front of the girl. Violet didn't move, stubbornly standing her ground. “Sure.” Ben flashed a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. He stepped closer to her, his smile widening. “If you can pass the test.”
Violet’s lip curled. She took a single step back. “What kind of test?”
Ben nodded to me. “Meet us at the swimming pool at 8pm.”
To my surprise, Violet nodded. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Nope!”
8pm. The four of us met outside the local swimming pool.
Violet was already on the other side of the fence, waving.
“Hey guys!”
I noticed Ben’s expression, his eyes darkening, lip curling.
Still though, he maintained positivity, vaulting over the fence.
“You made it!”
I followed him, helping Lucy, who was immediately freaking out. I didn't blame her. The pool looked cold and dark, a hollow oblivion carved into the ground.
Ben and Violet stood on the edge, the two of them shoulder to shoulder.
Violet Evergreen was braver than I thought.
Standing with her arms at her sides, Violet's hands clenched into fists.
“What's the test?” Violet said, her gaze glued to bleeding black depths.
“I don't know,” Ben murmured, his voice teetering on a giggle. He leaned forwards, arms spread out. “I didn't think you'd actually come meet us.”
Violet hummed, stretching out her leg, teasing it across the surface. “Was that the test?”
The boy leaned back. I caught the glint of a grin under the floodlights. “Nah.”
Before I knew what was happening, he shoved Violet into the pool. The girl didn't scream or shriek, she just hit the surface, sinking into pitch dark nothing.
“Sink or swim,” Ben said in a low murmur, when Violet’s head bobbed under water. I could see her shadow under the surface, imagining the freezing cold depths pulling her down.
“Drown, and you can't join us.”
It was so quiet, suddenly. The three of us staring into rippling water.
A minute passed, and my tummy started to twist.
“Fuck.” Ben’s expression stayed stoic. I wasn't expecting him to say a bad word.
He cocked his head. “I thought she could swim.”
I hit him, holding in a cry. “You need to get our parents!”
But he didn't listen to me, taking a single step, and dropping into the pool.
I fell to my knees, scanning the water.
Lucy was crying. “Are they dead?!” she shrieked.
“Shhh!” I was watching two shadows lingering under the water.
Violet broke through. I expected her to be crying, but her expression was unwavering. She was silent. I thought the splashing underneath her was her legs trying and struggling to tread water, before Lucy shoved me. Hard.
“Panda! What do we do?!”
Looking closer, Violet was perfectly still, her gaze on the sky.
While she shoved Ben under the water, drowning him.
Violet’s eyes sparkled, and somehow, I knew she belonged in my gang.
Her gaze found mine, glinting with that darkness, that poisonous streak I found myself drawn to. It was a starving, insatiable need to understand a fractured mind. Know your enemy.
“Do you want to see if Ben’s a witch?” Violet asked me, her tone something else entirely. This girl did not make sense, using barely her finger to drown Ben Callows. I knew she was wrong.
I knew there was something loose, something unlocked and unbridled and drowning inside her mind and heart.
But I wanted more of her. I wanted Violet Evergreen in my detective gang.
I think that is why I stood there, frozen.
When the thrashing stopped, Ben broke through.
He wasn't coughing or spluttering, his head inclined. “You didn't drown.”
Violet climbed out of the pool, offering her hand. “And you're not a witch.”
He declined her hand, taking the steps instead.
I asked Violet in a shaky voice. I was trembling with terror, but I was excited.
Exhilarated.
“Violet, will you join my gang?”
She didn't answer me until we were sharing hot cocoa in my house.
I told Mom we fell in the pool, and she believed me. I should have told her that my friends were sociopaths, and I was kind of maybe in love. Violet sipped her cocoa, nodding with a smile I didn't recognise. Violet never smiled at school.
Well, she did. But it was always the prick of a cruel smirk.
I don't think her smile was genuine, but she was definitely enjoying herself.
Our last member came to us, instead of finding him.
Jules Howell, a straggly brunette pushed his way in front of me in the lunch line. I didn't really know the kid.
He sat at the back of the classroom and slept through most of class. I did like his accent though.
Jules had moved from Melbourne in the second grade. He didn't talk much.
When he did, I found myself enveloped in his voice, which sounded like water to me, a bleeding cadence to his tone.
Jules piled his plate with fries, smiling widely at the lunch ladies.
“I saw you last night.” He murmured through that perfectly moulded grin.
“Saw me where?”
“At the pool,” Jules said. “You, Bloody Ben, Violet Evergreen, and that Lucy girl. You were doing a suiciding pact.”
“That's not what we were doing.” I said, “What's a suiciding pact?”
“When you kill yourself together.” Jules said. “I saw it in a scary movie my Mom was watching.”
I grabbed a fork. “We weren't doing that.”
His eyes were strange when I took the time to notice them. The excited gleam had fizzled out. Jules’s hands tightened around his tray. “Then what were you doing?”
I didn't reply, making my way over to our usual table. Ben was already waving me over, Violet and Lucy holding up the flyers we were making.
THE REDBLOOD DETECTIVES.”
Do YOU need our help? We can find/solve anything! Contact us on the number below. (We take donations!)
When I bothered turning around, Jules was lost in the crowd of kids.
We were on our first official case, searching for Mrs Lake’s missing mail, when Jules appeared seemingly out of nowhere. And with him, a golden retriever puppy he introduced as Arlo.
It took a dog jumping up at them for Violet and Ben to find their real smiles, their real selves slowly seeping through these facades they had built around themselves. Ben dropped to a crouch, ruffling the dog's ears, his smile faint.
“Who's a good boy?” He chuckled.
Arlo didn't move, tail wagging, eyes bright.
Ben motioned the dog towards him, but Arlo stayed put.
Jules joined us…quietly.
I don't remember asking him, or even him asking me.
He just became part of us, side by side with Arlo.
We soon came to quickly realize that our town was boring.
There were no monsters or thieves, or soul sucking demons. No criminals or serial killers. Not even one missing person. We did, however, get calls about missing cats. I turned eleven years old, patiently waiting for a murder or a kid going missing. But there was nothing.
All we did was chase cats, and the occasional dog. Maybe a budgie if we were lucky. Twelve years old, our detective club became a joke.
The five of us (and Arlo hiding under the table) were trying to pinpoint Mrs Tracy's lost hamster, when three girls came over, dumping their soda all over us.
We watched crime shows for inspiration on catching killers.
Ben’s favorite crime was one that happened in the 80’s in our town.
2 girls murdered.
Their intestines stuffed into envelopes and mailed to family members.
“That's what we should be solving,” he told me one night, “Not missing cats.”
Thirteen years old, we lay in Violet’s backyard under the cruel glare of the summer sun. We called it working and didn't like to admit it was hanging out, or that we were even friends. However.
That didn't stop us growing closer.
Even if it wasn't quite the way I’d expected.
I proposed a plan, standing up, wobbling a little off balance.
“I've got it.” I said, my voice kinda slurry from Violet’s special summer cocktail, which was just random alcoholic beverages we found, thrown into a blender, and diluted with water.
The town wasn't taking us seriously.
So, we were going to make our own mysteries.
I ordered a full-scale assault on our small town. One that they could not ignore. Ben stamped on Mrs Mason’s flowers, and Lucy threw mud pies at people's cars. Jules trashed the high school gym, and Violet and I spray painted threats and warnings on every store window. Now, this did cause panic, but also an official curfew.
Thirty minutes before curfew, we met in our usual spot, deep in the forest near the lake. Ben yelled at me when I was three minutes late. He was real passionate about finding a real mystery.
“You're late.” Ben was sitting on a rock waving a stick in Arlo’s face.
The dog still wasn't going near him, whining softly.
I took my place, muttering an apology. “I had to lie to my Mom.”
Violet, sitting with her legs crossed, idly digging her manicure into the dirt, suggested we buy mannequins and masquerade them as dead bodies, hanging them from the school rafters.
Lucy, who had slowly grown out of her shell, becoming a lot more outspoken, nudged her. “That's a stupid idea.”
The girl groaned, leaning into her. “Urgh. You're right.”
Jules was the only energetic one, standing on the tireswing.
He jumped down, definitely twisting his ankle.
But his smile only widened, kind of like he enjoyed being in pain.
“Why don't we pretend to be kidnapped?” He said, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over blondish curls growing out. Jules did a dramatic spin, his eyes shining. “We can ‘go missing’ for like a week, and then when our parents are really scared, we can turn up, and tell them we escaped a kidnapping.” His lips split into a grin.
“And then we solve our own kidnapping!”
Ben awkwardly patted Arlos head, only for the dog to pull away with a snort.
“I like it,” he murmured. “I'm in.”
Jules’s idea was stupid.
But.
It was worth a shot.
The five of us agreed to meet the morning after with enough food and supplies for a week. Then we were going to hike to the next town, and hide out for a week. It was an almost perfect plan, using ourselves as victims of our own mystery.
Packing as much as I could, I kissed my mother goodbye (I told her my pack was for a picnic) and set off to the rendezvous we agreed on.
When I arrived, I was the first one there. I checked and re-checked my pack.
I waited ten minutes, unable to contain my excitement.
Then 20 minutes.
It was getting kind of cold.
One hour.
I sat on a rock for enough time to watch the sky change color.
When the clouds were orange, I stood up and stumbled back home. They had gone without me. Mom lectured me when I got home, and I stuck to the plan of pretending my friends had gone missing, even if I they had betrayed me.
Ben said he'd text me when he arrived at the redervous. I at least expected him to text an explanation, but there was nothing. I was in the dark, and after three days of nothing, our town finally began to take us seriously.
“Our children have been kidnapped!” The adults were screaming.
Mom was crying in the kitchen, praying to a god I knew she didn't believe in that I wasn't taken next. I was interviewed and stuck with the exact same story I came up with when I was with the others. Our plan was to return after a week, claiming to be locked up in a dark room with a masked man.
I told my Mother and the other parents that I didn't know where my friends were, repeating the same thing over and over again until I was tongue tied.
“I saw them the day before they went missing, and… yes, everything seemed okay.” I slowly sipped my glass of milk provided, looking the sheriff directly in the eyes.
“No, I didn't notice anything suspicious, sheriff. Yes, I'm sure, sir. No, they didn't tell me anything.”
It was Ben’s mother who shattered my mask.
“Did I know about… what?” I whispered.
Something warm filled the back of my mouth, foul tasting milk erupting up my throat. I leaned forward, trying to look Mrs Callows in the eye. “No, I… I didn't know about Ben’s…condition.”
Mrs Callows was screaming at me about her son’s troubled past when I barfed all over myself, my eyes burning.
In the privacy of my own room, I sobbed until I couldn't breathe.
I tried to tell Mom, but we had come so close.
One more day, and the others would be back.
But that day came. I sat cross legged at our usual spot, which was now covered in police tape. I waited for their thudding footsteps, their laughter congratulating each other for coming up with a great plan. I waited, my face buried in my knees, for my friends.
It was dark when my phone vibrated, and I'd fallen asleep.
I wasn't scared, forcing myself to my feet.
“Where are you?” Mom yelled down the phone.
“Coming home now.” I muttered.
“Sorry.” I paused, holding my breath against a cry. “Mom.” I broke down, forcing my fist into my mouth to hide my squeak. “Mommy, did they come back?”
Mom didn't reply for a moment.
“I'm so sorry, baby.” She whispered, ending the call.
I took my time walking home that night.
There were no stars in the sky.
When a hand clamped over my mouth, I could smell him.
When he dragged me back, stabbing a kitchen knife into my throat, I stared at the sky and looked for stars. His arms were warm around me, violently pulling me into the back of a pickup truck. The pickup truck he'd said he was bringing.
It was his grandfather's, and he could just about drive it.
Hitting the backseat, my body was numb, my thoughts in a whirlwind.
The pickup flew forwards, and I remembered how to move.
I rolled off the seat, my hands pinned behind my back.
Twisting around, blinking in the dim, I could feel something warm, something seeping across upholstery seats. Blood.
It was everywhere, sticky on my hands and wet on my face when I struggled to get up. I was lying in someone's blood.
A scream clawed its way out of my throat.
The pickup flew over a pothole, and something dropped off the seat.
Arlo’s leash.
I screamed again, this time his name gritted between my teeth.
I didn't stop screaming until the jerking movement stopped. The doors opened, pale light hitting me in the face.
Flashlight. Warm arms wrapped around me, pulling me from the car, and then, pulling me by my hair, into our old tree house. It was always our secret place, our saving grace on the edge of town.
The flickering candlelight caught me off guard, illuminating my surroundings.
Two bodies slumped over each other, lying in stemming red.
I felt suffocated, like I was going to die. I screamed, and that warm hand cradled my mouth again, gagging my cries.
Violet and Jules.
There was something wrong with them. And it was only when I forced myself to look closer, when I realized their insides had been carved out, heart, stomach, everything, pulled out.
There was paper on the floor.
No, not paper. Envelopes.
Envelopes stuffed with gore, bright red leaking through white.
Shuffling back, my brain was too slow to react, while my body was trying to vault to my feet, only to be violently pulled back by my ponytail.
I felt his fingers twining around my hair, revelling in my screams.
With another tug, my head was forced forwards.
Orange candlelight felt almost homely, this time lighting up a third body.
Lying on their back, curled up, pooling scarlet dried into the floorboards, their wrists restricted with duct-tape.
I could feel blood underneath me, sticky, a congealing paste.
“Do you know what happened on October 3rd, 1987, in our town?”
Lucy Prescott stood over me, her arms folded across her chest.
I managed to shake my head, when she grabbed Ben’s legs, dragging him under the candlelight. I dazedly watched her stroke the blade of a carving knife, the teeth already stained scarlet. “The intestine murders.” Lucy hummed, tracing the knife down the floorboards.
“A man murdered two high school girls, carving out their insides and sending their pieces to their loved ones.”
Lucy's eyes found mine, ignited in a familiar gleam. I saw it in Principal Marrow’s office. Then the swimming pool. The cafeteria. “It was the sheriff's only murder case, Panda. Ever since then, our town has been boring. There's no mysteries to solve. Nothing to find.”
The girl jumped to her feet, retrieving a blood stained envelope.
She held it up, a smile curved on her lips. The girl turned around, and I heard a horrific squelching sound. Lucy held up a bright red sausage, ripped into it, and slipped it into the white paper.
“But I can change that.” she said, in a giggle.
“I can create a real serial killer, who we can hunt down together.”
Lucy stabbed the blade into the floor, laughing.
“Or! I can bring a fan-favorite back! I can bring the intestine killer back from the dead!”
Her gaze flicked to the others. “There are casualties, of course. The story is, I was kidnapped with Ben, Violet, and Jules. The scary intestine killer killed them, and I managed to get away.”
Lucy shuffled over to me, her eyes wide. “Then! He came back and struck again!”
With those words, she shoved me onto my back.
“First he took Violet,” Lucy hummed, tracing the blade down my shirt.
“Then… Jules.” I squeezed my eyes shut, pulling at the restraints around my wrists. “Then Ben.” her breath tickled my cheek. “And finally… Panda.”
Lucy lifted the knife, and I accepted my death.
Until a low rumble in my ears.
Shouting.
Thundering footsteps, followed by the pitter-patter of paws.
“Lucy!” The sheriff was screaming, and the girl stumbled to her feet, the knife slipping from her fingers. Lucy stumbled, tripping over Ben’s body.
“He got away!” she shrieked. “He…he killed them! Oh, god, please help me!”
I don't think Lucy even realised the traces she'd left behind.
The blood slick on her fingers, her manic, grinning smile full of mania.
I was looking for stars when an officer crouched over me.
I couldn't understand what she was saying.
Her voice was white noise.
“Rachel? Hey, try and sit up, honey. You Mom is on her way.”
Instead of listening to her, I curled into myself.
My gaze found Arlo sticking his nose in Ben’s hair, trying to nudge the boy awake.
I didn't fully register the next few days.
They went by in a confusing blur.
Part of me tried to eat, and spent hours with my head pressed against the toilet seat.
I could still see the slithering, scarlet remains of my friends every time I closed my eyes. There was so much red, soaked in that hunting orange light.
Blood that I could still see, a starless sky that stretched on forever.
Weeks went by.
Then months.
I think I turned 14. I wasn't sure. I didn't feel alive anymore.
I stood at my friend’s funerals with a single rose I dropped into their casket.
Violet’s mother was quick to cover the whole thing up.
Lucy's plan didn't work after all.
Our town’s murder cases stayed stagnant at one.
It's been four years since my friends were murdered by our ’Velma’.
Now, at seventeen, Mom asked if I wanted to visit Lucy in juvie.
I'm not even upset or angry anymore.
I want to know why.
Ben picked me up. Arlo was at his side, wagging his tail.
Ben was…different. He'd dumped his baseball cap and gotten a haircut, swapping his old wardrobe of drab colors for an attempt at changing style.
That day, he looked awkward in a short sleeved tee and shorts.
At school, Ben is no longer Bloody Ben.
Now, he is Survivor Ben.
I’m still Panda.
Every time I was with him, I felt like my soul was being sucked out.
Guilt so deep, so fucking painful, I lost my breath.
I live knowing that I immediately assumed it was him that day.
Ben was barely alive when I found him. Lucy had started to carve into him before remembering she needed me.
After admitting it to him, his lips formed a small smile.
“Can I tell you a secret?” He said to me, at sixteen.
"Yeah?"
Whatever he was going to say, Ben never told me.
Presently, I nodded at the dog’s new collar.
“Peppa Pig themed?”
The boy shrugged, ruffling Arlo’s ears. “FYI, he chose it.”
“It's cute.” I said. “Very… chic.”
We didn't speak the whole ride, but Ben did entangle his hand in mine.
We spent half an hour outside the detention centre. I was panicking, and Ben was trying to hide that he was panicking. In the end, we joined hands, and strode through the doors together.
Lucy greeted us with a wide smile. Just as psychotic.
The orange jumpsuit suited her, though I had zero idea why.
“Hey Arlo!” she giggled at the dog, and Ben pulled the pup onto his lap.
“Ben.” She sighed. “I wish I got to finish you. I would have loved to solve the mystery of your gutted corpse.”
Ben’s smile was wry. “Nice to see you too.”
Behind a glass screen, I asked Lucy one simple question.
“Why?”
Lucy didn't reply. Or she did, but it was just nonsensical bullshit.
But there was one thing she said has stuck with me, chilling me to the core.
I am fucking terrified of Lucy. Of what's she's done, and what she's capable of doing.
It was a throwaway line, and I don't even think Ben noticed.
Or he did, and was in denial.
Lucy's smile was wide, her eyes empty pools of nothing.
The exact same glint in Ben’s eyes.
Jules’s eyes.
Violet’s eyes.
Like something was gnawing away at their psyche, twisting and contorting it, filling them with darkness, poison, that was so vast, so endless, I had craved it as a child. I still don't know what it is.
But I'm going to find it.
Lucy's laugh was shrill, and next to me, Ben didn't move a muscle.
“I don't even wear glasses!”

First Chapter Previous Chapter
Mrs. Vilonte stood alone in the bathroom. In her hands, she cradled the urn containing her husband's ashes. The weight of it was surprisingly light, almost inconsequential, like the flutter of a moth's wing against her palm.
There was a tinge of sadness that grazed her heart. She had spent years by his side, experiencing the highs and lows of marriage. And now he was dead. The memorial service had been sparsely attended, with only a handful offering their condolences.
One photographer seemed overly eager to capture a shot of the grieving widow shedding a tear. But Mrs. Vilonte despised tears—seeing them, feeling them trickle down her face. The moment she felt her eyes sting and tears threatening to spill, she brushed them away before they had a chance to fall.
Now, the house was quiet. But mixed with that lingering sadness was a sense of relief, a subtle liberation that whispered to her from the shadows. He had betrayed her. His infidelity had cut deep.
She unscrewed the lid of the urn. The ashes inside seemed to shimmer in the faint light. Without hesitation, she emptied the contents into the toilet bowl and pulled the lever, watching as they spiraled downwards, swallowed by the rushing water.
XXXXXX
She once cherished two joys during her drives to Gabrielle's violin lessons. One was soaking in the serene landscape while indulging in her beloved soft jazz on the radio. The other was the comforting presence of her daughter beside her in the front passenger seat.
Now, she glanced at the vacant seat, and a wave of melancholy washed over her. Shaking off the emotion, she turned her attention back to the road, gripping the wheel tighter as she accelerated. After a stretch of driving, she eventually arrived at the mansion.
She had often wondered how the maestro accumulated such immense wealth. However, after meeting his benefactor and experiencing the allure of that wealth herself, she began to understand the price he had paid–the soul.
Was striking a deal with such a malevolent entity truly worth it? This question haunted her thoughts daily, and still, she had no definitive answer. The allure of luxury was intoxicating like the addictive sweetness of sugar. The more she indulged in it, the stronger her craving became, leaving her caught in a cycle of desire and uncertainty.
The mansion was as elegant and grand as she remembered. In the front yard, a splendid water fountain glistened under the sunlight. Surrounding the mansion was a manicured garden bloomed with vibrant colors and lush foliage.
Before stepping out of the car, she pulled a handgun from the glove compartment and carefully concealed it in her purse. Today was the day she planned to confront him, intent on demanding him to undo the unfortunate turn her life had taken.
The front door was unlocked and it swung open effortlessly as she entered. It slammed shut behind her without her even touching it, and there was no wind to explain it.
“Ah, Mrs. Vilonte,” a familiar male voice greeted warmly, “It's been far too long since our last meeting. You look lovely as ever!”
She looked up to see the young Salerno, leaning casually against the railing at the top of the split staircase. His smirking face drew a scowl from her. She resented his mocking compliment about her looking “lovely as ever.” She wore the same black dress she'd worn since her husband's memorial, now creased from sleep and carrying a faint scent of dried scotch.
“You've had your fun, Salerno,” she retorted, her voice tinged with restrained anger. "I shouldn't have broken our agreement, and I've learned my lesson.”
“Have you?”
“Yes, and I assure you, it won't happen again.”
“So, what can I do for you?”
“I want my life back.”
Salerno's face was solemn, shrouded in silence. Unexpectedly, he erupted into mocking laughter.
“That's not the nature of consequences, my dear,” he remarked. “You must live with what you've done. Forgiveness is not in my nature.
“You've stripped me of my wealth–”
“It wasn't yours to begin with.”
“I have nothing left!”
“Oh, that isn't completely true. You still have your family.”
“You've torn my family apart! My husband is gone, my son imprisoned and now my daughter, too! You've taken her from me.”
“But soon you'll be reunited.”
“What do you mean?”
He motioned for her to ascend the stairs. “You've arrived just in time to witness something miraculous. Something beautiful!”
Confusion clouded Mrs. Vilonte's face until she heard an agonized moan coming from an upstairs room, followed by a cry she knew all too well.
“Gabrielle,” she gasped.
Salerno nodded. “You're about to be a grandmother to another child.”
The haunting images from the field of mirrors flooded back. The abomination—a monstrous entity—was on the brink of entering their world, and who knew what kind of hell it would bring. Suddenly, a powerful force propelled her towards the stairs, her movements no longer under her control. Before she knew it, she stood face to face with Salerno on the top landing. His grin exposed jagged, menacing teeth, and his eyes were pools of darkness. With talon-like fingers, he grasped her shoulders, their sharp points piercing her skin.
He led her into the master bedroom, where Gabrielle lay in a fitful sleep on a queen-size bed, her movements restless. Her eyes were closed, and sweat had matted her hair to her head. Beside her sat Victoria, whose skin showed signs of decay, and she moved with a robotic, disjointed motion as she wiped the sweat from Gabrielle's face with a cloth. When Victoria moved aside, Mrs. Vilonte shivered, finding herself staring into Victoria's empty, hollow eye sockets.
Salerno leaned in close to her ear, his voice a low whisper as he said, “My children are everywhere, and this newborn will join them, serving me in this world. You should feel honored to be part of something extraordinary, something greater than yourself.”
Slipping free from his hold, she quickly made her way to her daughter's bedside, sweeping aside stray locks from her face. The moment her fingers made contact with her skin, Gabrielle began to calm down.
“Gabby, it's Mom,” she whispered gently, a wave of relief washing over her as her daughter's eyes fluttered open in response.
“Did you enjoy the concert, Mom?” Gabrielle asked, faintly.
“Well, it was an unforgettable performance, that's for sure.”
“Didn’t I do a phenomenal job?”
“Let's talk about it when we get home.”
“Home?”
“Yes, you're coming home with me now.”
“I can't... the baby is going to arrive soon,” Gabrielle gasped, her voice strained with pain. "It hurts too much to move.”
“You’ll have to endure it! We need to get out of here!”
Mrs. Vilonte tossed aside the blanket and firmly grasped her arm, pulling her out of the bed. Gabrielle staggered and lost her footing, sliding down onto the floor. She reached for the edge of the bed, trying to soften her sudden fall.
“Run, run, but wherever you hide,” Salerno sang, “you'll never escape this hell.”
Mrs. Vilonte quickly drew the handgun from her purse, aiming it at him as he approached. Her eyes darted between Salerno and Victoria, the gun wavering between the two.
“Stay back! Just let us go.”
Salerno chuckled. “Mrs. Vilonte, really now? Violence won't solve your problems.”
A deafening bang echoed through the room. He staggered back, pressing a hand to his belly as blood began to seep through his white shirt. His mouth opened, releasing a plume of black smoke that coalesced into the silhouette of a large goat standing upright on its hind legs.
The creature glared at her with red eyes before the smoke dissipated. Then, as if the inevitable march of age had finally caught up to him within seconds, his vitality began to wane. His once smooth skin transformed into a web of wrinkles. His dark eyes dimmed, replaced by a cloudy haze. His jet-black hair turned a shocking shade of white, contrasting starkly with the pallor of his skin. His cheeks began to sink.
Salerno, aged and frail, sank to the floor, his hand stubbornly pressed against his wound as if hoping to halt the flow of blood. “Run, run, but wherever you hide, you'll never escape this hell.”
Mrs. Vilonte seized her daughter's arm, hauling her upright, all the while keeping the gun trained between Salerno and Victoria. Victoria lay collapsed on the floor, reduced to a heap of decomposed skin devoid of bones and muscle.
A deep rumble echoed through the room, causing it to tremble and sway. Cracks snaked across the walls, paint peeling away in tattered sheets. Twisting, blood-red vines crept from the fractures, weaving their way across walls and ceiling. Acting quickly, Mrs. Vilonte seized Gabrielle, who had collapsed to the floor, teeth clenched in pain from another surge of agony. She pulled her up by the arm, forcing her to her feet and pushing her towards the door.
The mansion, once a symbol of pride when she'd taken her daughter for the maestro’s lessons, was transforming into a nightmarish scene. Blood oozed from the decaying walls, while a noxious sulfuric odor filled the air, nearly suffocating Mrs. Vilonte and making each breath a struggle.
She didn't pause for rest or allow Gabrielle a moment to catch her breath until they were safely out of the house and speeding away in the car, putting as much distance as possible between them and the area.
“Mom, stop the car,” Gabrielle groaned in pain from the back seat.
“Hold on tight, honey. We'll go to the nearest hospital.”
“I can't wait anymore!”
“It won't be long. Twenty minutes.”
“I can feel the baby wanting to come out.”
Mrs. Vilonte looked up at the rearview mirror, where she saw Gabrielle's sweaty face scrunched up in pain, gripping her rounded belly with both hands.
“I know this isn’t easy,” she said, “but you need to hold out a little longer. We'll be at the hospital very soon.”
“STOP THE CAR!”
The car came to a sudden stop, jolting Mrs. Vilonte forward and almost throwing Gabrielle off from her seat.
“The baby is coming! Mom, help me!” Gabrielle cried.
“The baby…”
Mrs. Vilonte couldn't shake the thought that this creature couldn't possibly be human. The horrifying acts that it could be capable of frightened her, and the idea that it shared a bloodline with her sickened her even more. Her hand moved to the handgun resting on the passenger seat beside her, considering the one extreme solution she could think of for such an unusual situation.
It wasn't ideal, but she saw no other option.
She took hold of the gun and stepped out of the car, approaching the rear passenger side. Opening the door, she found her daughter propped on her elbows, lifting her dress to reveal the widening canal. Gabrielle let out a menacing growl as she pushed.
Mrs. Vilonte crouched to inspect closer, and instantly felt the unsettling, malevolent presence. The entity seemed to be trying to claw its way out from the depths of the abyss. It inched towards the light, its growls growing louder like a ravenous animal. As Gabrielle pushed further, its red, snouted face broke through, its eyes snapping open to lock onto hers with an intense, black-eyed glare.
Startled, she stumbled back, her hands grasping for the handgun that had slipped from her trembling fingers. As she aimed at the creature before her, an unseen force encircled her hands. She fought to maintain control, but the force twisted the weapon, redirecting it towards her. Suddenly, she found herself staring down the barrel of her gun.
The trees came alive with a flurry of motion as a group of birds took flight, their wings beating frantically against the sky. The once-quiet canopy echoed with the sound of panicked chirps and the movement of feathers, as the startled birds scattered in all directions, seeking refuge from the sudden disturbance caused by a blast.
XXXXX
In the forest of another realm, beyond the physical world, her skin melded seamlessly with the tree's bark, as vines snaked their way around her, ensnaring her limbs. Fungi blossomed from her mouth, rendering her voiceless as her tongue was entwined.
The goat-like creature approached her, brandishing a small mirror, coercing her to confront her distorted reflection. Little remained of her once recognizable features. Worms and roaches had taken residence in the hollow cavity where her nose and right eye had been. With her one remaining eye, she gazed into the mirror, waves of anguish coursing through her being as she beheld the grim reflection of what she had transformed into.
Then, as her ghastly reflection faded, a young man with dark hair and eyes as deep as coal materialized, wearing a black suit, standing with poise on a stage, holding up a violin. Upon closer look, she realized it to be the very violin Gabrielle had once owned.
“Behold what my child has become,” the entity proclaimed. “Are you not as proud of him as I am?”
XXXXX
A bright light beamed down on the young man standing center stage, his violin poised in his hands. His fingers glided over the strings, and with each passing note, the audience, their eyes fixed on him, was drawn deeper into his spell. It wrapped around the listeners' hearts and pulled them into a trance-like state. And as the last notes hung in the air, the audience were suspended in silence and left breathless. Then, they leaped to their feet in thunderous applause.
With a twisted smile, he relished the adulation. He knew he had sway over them, puppet master of their actions. He could simply issue a command, and they would eagerly comply, ready to enact his darkest fantasies. He imagined directing his willing servants to get up on the roof of a towering building and leap into the abyss below, willingly offering themselves as sacrifices.
He envisioned chaos unleashed upon the streets, cars overturned, windows shattered, and buildings engulfed in flames. All at his behest. The world lay at his fingertips, ripe for manipulation and destruction, as he thought about the countless ways he could bring about humanity’s demise.
After his final bow, the young man turned to face the audience, expressing heartfelt thanks for their attendance, eliciting both laughter and warm affection from the crowd. But, amidst the resounding applause, one figure remained still in the front row, confined to a wheelchair. He stared straight at her face which was hidden behind a thin black veil.
Though her body remained motionless in the chair, incapable of even the slightest movement, her one good eye was very much alive, fully engaged with her surroundings. And there was something else in her gaze. He could sense it from the stage, and it made him chuckle. It was an aroma he found intoxicating – the unmistakable stench of fear, seeping from every pore like primal pheromones.
The audience clamored for an encore, yearning to satisfy their insatiable thirst for more music. Their fervent cries echoed through tears. Lifting his violin once more, he hushed the audience with a single motion. The moment the red bow touched the strings, pandemonium broke loose. The spectators lost all self-control, leaping from their seats, clutching their heads, and tearing at their hair in a wild frenzy. They were completely entranced, surrendered to the power of the music.
As his crescendo intensified, a raging fire surged within them, mirrored by the frantic speed of his fingers on the strings. With each chord, they tore at their garments, sinking nails and teeth into one another's flesh. Chaos exploded, mingling with the scent of blood and the sound of rending flesh.
Mrs. Vilonte remained seated in her wheelchair, an impassive observer amidst the chaos, her voice silenced, her limbs still. She bore witness to the madness, her mind ensnared within its chaos, forever lost to its depths.

Im struggling to figure out if I’m being emotionally abused or dramatic/selfish . So I’ve been in this situationship? I dont really know what to call it but I’ve been “friends?” With him for a couple months now. (Since January). He was really sweet and loved to communicate with me when we first started hanging out. Over time, he became less and less communicative. He would guilt trip me and within the first month of hanging with him. I told him I don’t want anything serious or romantic. He said it was fine but it’s going to be hard for him because he has feelings for me . I also do but I just got out of a relationship and wasn’t interested in pursuing. He never took it seriously and when I would see him he would still be too friendly, telling me im pretty and that he likes me so much. I would accept the compliments but I was frustrated because of the boundaries I tried setting up. Later on in the month I told him that I don’t want to see him as often because he didn’t respect my boundaries. He cried and cried saying he hates himself and at the end I ending up comforting him while he had a panic attack. I tried leaving him 6 times. Everytime I do he gets a bit crazy and loses it. This last time I decided to block him because he was telling everyone I was his girlfriend. He had no way of contacting me . I blocked him on every single social media. He spam called me with no caller id and emailed me multiple times. He made multiple fake accounts to stalk me and message me. He asked to see me because he wanted an explanation and i agreed. When I met up with him, I was hesitant to tell him because I was uncomfortable (he was already crying and saying he wanted to kill himself) . He got upset because I was taking too long to answer and began losing it once again. He slammed him head into the steering wheel multiple times and i tried stopping it but he was so in the moment he fractured my finger by slamming his head onto my hand into the steering wheel. I told him I was going to drive his car for him because he was incapable of doing so. I began driving him to the emergency room to get him admitted. He began threatening to jump out of the car so I pulled over and asked him what he wants me to do. He said he wants his mom. I drove him 30 minutes away to his mom and she asked me if I can bring him in. I did . She also asked if I can stay because she won’t be home and she is afraid he will kill himself. I did , I asked if I could go home around 2pm(this started at 2am) he got upset and slammed his keys onto the floor breaking them. Making it not possible to go home. Eventually I got home and I’ve been slightly ignoring him . He still text me saying he wants to die. Is this abuse? Or am I being dramatic

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[📖First ⏮️Previous Next⏭️]
‎
Ji Wuye clenched the rough stone bench tightly, his calloused fingers digging into the pitted surface until tiny shards pierced his palms.
‎
A grimace flickered across his chiseled features as crimson beads of blood welled up and began trickling down his wrists.
‎
With a pained hiss, he wrenched his hands back, only to watch in dawning horror as the bench contorted and morphed, stonework fracturing as a jagged earth spike erupted skyward.
‎
The entire arena trembled violently underfoot, the remaining benches undergoing the same petrifying transformation into lancing spires.
‎
Realizing the trial had commenced, Ji Wuye sprang backwards towards the center of the quaking arena floor. No sooner had he landed than an immense pillar of sharpened rock exploded from the space he'd just vacated.
‎
"It's even larger than I remembered..." he murmured through gritted teeth, crimson eyes blazing with an intense inner light.
‎
The ground rippled before him like water, deforming ominously as countless earth spikes aligned to impale him.
‎ ‎

[!] Your passive skill, Quick Adaptation(F), has been triggered! 

‎ ‎
Time itself seemed to slow to a crawl within Ji Wuye's hyper-alert mind. His burning gaze rapidly analyzed every fractional movement, mapping out each spike's emergent trajectory in rapid headlong calculation.
‎
Crimson pupils twitched and pulsed hotter with the strain of processing all the combat variables within the span of mere seconds.
‎
"There will be one on my left...and the others will approach from the west and my right," he concluded sharply.
‎ ‎

[>>[QUICK ADAPTATION(F)]<<] The proficiency of your passive skill has been increased by 0.01%! 

‎ ‎
SWOOSH-!
‎
With a series of agile dodges and gravity-defying backflips, Ji Wuye triggered his Quick Adaptation skill.
‎
His hands slapped against the trembling floor, perfectly positioned to leverage his bodyweight up and over the striking spires in a whirling blooming of martial grace.
‎ ‎

[!] Your passive skill, Quick Adaptation(F), has been triggered! 

‎ ‎
Yet even as he moved, the very ground beneath his palms began to disintegrate and transform, jagged rock blooming upwards to entrap him from all sides in an unforgiving cage.
‎
Through the dusty miasma, the hint of a grim smile played across Ji Wuye's lips. "But this situation is not without hope."
‎ ‎

[>>[QUICK ADAPTATION(F)]<<] The proficiency of your passive skill has been increased by 0.01%! 

‎ ‎
SWOOSH-!
‎
SWOOSH-!
‎
SWOOSH-!
‎
With whip-crack movements, Ji Wuye's body arced backwards, twisting in midair to land in an unsteady crouch as three spikes punctured the space he'd just vacated, sealing off lines of egress.
‎
Towering pillars of rock surrounded him on all sides, granting only narrow ribbons of shadowed visibility ahead.
‎
"And one would come from below me," he stated flatly, the words dropping like lead weights into the dusty air.
‎
SWOOSH-!
‎
In the same instant, Ji Wuye's entire form ignited in a sheath of coruscating Qi. With blistering speed, his hands plunged knuckle-deep into the emerging spike before him even as he registered the muffled thrum of another spire striking up from the earth behind.
‎
Reflexes alone saved him as piercing rock shredded his tattered robe, leaving the muscles of his bare chest exposed to the stale air. Bloody cloth ribbons fluttered down around his braced feet.
‎
Carried aloft by the skewering spike, Ji Wuye swung his legs up as sharpened rock tore through his palms, unleashing a torrent of crimson.
‎
Clenching those ruined hands into defiant fists, he slammed them laterally into the surrounding stone pillars with earth-shattering force. One by one they burst apart, shredded debris raining down as he rapidly ascended amidst the chaos.
‎
Using the remnant momentum, Ji Wuye angled through the disintegrating shards, still propelled ever higher until he reached nearly twice the apex of the grounded spire below.
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Battered but undaunted, his fiery eyes narrowed to piercing slits as his Qi-shrouded form began spiraling with building velocity.
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Tendons stood out like cords of iron from corded forearms as he delivered a devastatingly focused spinning kick to detonate against the emergent spire.
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The backlash of that explosive impact sent shock waves rippling outwards, distorting the rising spire's trajectory as Ji Wuye's battered form was launched back towards the trembling earth, a spinning top of shredded flesh and tattered cloth.
‎
From all sides, curved and misshapen earth spires bent inwards to intercept his descent in a vain attempt to find purchase in his hurtling body.
‎ ‎

[!] Your passive skill, Quick Adaptation(F), has been triggered! 

‎ ‎
Ji Wuye spun through the air, dodging and weaving amidst the forest of malformed earth spikes seeking to impale him from every angle.
‎
Bent shafts of jagged rock lanced in from the right, left and behind in an unrelenting assault. The solitary pillar below remained ominously poised to skewer him should he fall.
‎
With the sky the only avenue of obvious escape, Ji Wuye knew flight was not an option open to him. Rotating again to gain altitude proved futile - amidst the choking clouds of pulverized debris, there existed no platforms to leverage against gravity's pull.
‎
Dodging and blocking were rapidly becoming untenable maneuvers.
‎
"Heh..." A harsh bark of mirthless laughter escaped his bloodied lips as Ji Wuye focused his concentration fully inwards.
‎
Bypassing his tapped external reserves, he delved deep to draw upon the last dregs of Qi coiled tightly in his Middle Dantian, hoarded for just such a dire circumstance.
‎
The faint, scattered tendrils of energy began contracting, condensing into a more potent, consolidated form.
‎
Yet even as the protective Qi sheath firmed around his back and flanks, other areas like his chest, abdomen and face were laid bare, stripped of their energetic armoring. Like a turtle's vulnerability when bereft of its shell, Ji Wuye's front stood unguarded and exposed.
‎
Such focused application of hardened Qi was a high-level technique impossible for a martial artist below 5th realm. But through hardships and dearly-bought skills in the previous timeline, Ji Wuye found he could just manage this feat in his current heavily depleted state.
‎
"But...only one minute..." he muttered through gritted teeth, well aware of the inherent tradeoff required.
‎
Utilizing his Qi reserves in such a recklessly concentrated manner, without a knowledge and real identity as a 5th realm martial artist, would subject his physical and energetic pathways to excruciating strain.
‎
The risk of meridian damage could prove catastrophic.
‎
CLANK!
‎
CLANK!
‎
CLANK!
‎
One by one, the earthen lances slammed against Ji Wuye's hardened carapace, only to rebound impotently, unable to penetrate his partial Qi-armor.
‎
Yet with each jarring impact, his protective integrity fractured further as precious reserves were depleted just to maintain the crystalline barrier.
‎
On the tenth collision, just as Ji Wuye's battered form completed its descent to lightly settle atop the ring of gnarled earthen pikes, a thick spurt of arterial blood sprayed from his lips. "GAH!"
‎
His protective Qi shroud collapsed entirely as he felt his Middle and Lower Dantians reserves crack under the strain, energetic pathways hemorrhaging in place of the vanished power.
‎
A red haze swam across his vision as the intense focus required to channel his depleted reserves triggered severe cellular damage within his brain.
‎
But just as his trembling fingers fumbled for the healing pill tucked in a tattered pocket, Ji Wuye froze, arm upraised as a shimmering transparent display blossomed into being before him.
‎ ‎

[!] Congratulations, Climber Ji Wuye, on successfully surviving the last elemental test! 

‎ ‎

[>>[INFORMATION]<<] Challenger Ji Wuye, Congratulations on successfully clearing the second floor! 

‎ ‎

[!] Congratulations! You demonstrated exceptional resilience and achieved an extraordinary accomplishment by remaining conscious during the final test. 

‎ ‎

[!] Congratulations! Your injuries are relatively minimal compared to other challengers, showcasing your remarkable achievement. 

‎ ‎

[!] Congratulations! Your ingenuity and resourcefulness have captivated the gods, leading you to accomplish something truly remarkable. 

‎ ‎

[>>[REWARD]<<] • ..... • .... 

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[📖First ⏮️Previous Next⏭️]

I googled, but didn't find many people talking about this, so I decided to make a thread myself. To start, the Halo Devices come from, as the name would imply, the Halo Stars.

Halo Devices are so named because they come from worlds within the volume of space known as the Halo Stars—a dangerous and illomened region that is bordered by several barbarous voids of space as well as a number of Imperial sectors including Scarus and Calixis.

• Dark Heresy: Disciples of the Dark Gods

An interesting detail we see in the 3rd edition codex for the Necrons is that during their first encounter with the Old Ones, they were pushed back to a specific system.

The Necrontyr were pushed back until they became little more than an irritation to the Old Ones, a quiescent peril clinging to the outer dark among the halo stars, exiled and forgotten.

• Necron Codex, 3rd Edition

We are told that the Halo Devices are from a xenos race that's older than the Eldar.

The race that made the Halo Devices is believed to have existed thousands of millennia ago and may even predate the Eldar.

• Dark Heresy: Disciples of the Dark Gods

And the only races we know of that are that old are the Old Ones, and the Necrons.

Just as the stars gave birth to creatures fitting to their ilk, so the planets eventually gave rise to life which began the long climb to sentience. First to cross the sea of stars was a race of beings called the Old Ones.
... As the Old Ones spread across the galaxy, younger, fiercer races struggled in their wake. The Necrontyr were such a race, born under a fearsome, scourging star, which uncaringly Grove their evolution forth with atomic winds and plasma storms.

• Necron Codex, 3rd Edition

The race that would become the Necrons began their existence under a fearsome, scourging star, billions of years before Mankind evolved on Terra.

• Necron Codex, 8th Edition

So the Necrons seem to fit both the location of where they are found, and general time time frame (I use that term loosely).
One of the Necrontyr's characteristics is that their raison d'etre is their all consuming search for immortality. Which they sought to extend through their sciences to no avail.

What little information is known of the Necrontyr tells that their lives were short and uncertain, their bodies blighted and consumed by the searing caress of their cruel star. They were a mercurial, morbid folk, their precarious lifespans riven from cradle to grave with constant loss.
The Necrontyr sought control of their destiny through science, but learned that they could not conquer the curse that had been encoded into their bodies. They persevered, yet still their accomplishments gained them naught. Their star still reigned over them as life-giver and death-god combined. Their cities were built in anticipation of their demise, the living becoming temporary residents hurrying through the sepulchres and vast tombs of their ancestors.
Unable to find peace on their own world, the Necrontyr blindly groped outward to other stars. Using stasis crypts and slow burning torch-ships, clad in living metal to resist the age-long Journeys through the void, they began to colonise distant planets. Sometime into their slow expansion, the Necrontyr encountered the Old Ones. The colonisation of these ultraintelligent mystics had been immeasurably swifter than that of the Necrontyr. That, and their immense longevity (nigh immortality) kindled a burning hatred in the Necrontyr, which ate at them spiritually as much as their hideous cancers consumed them physically. Why should one race be granted such long lives while their own were cut so cruelly short? Jealousy begets hatred and the Necrontyr turned their entire civilisation towards destroying the Old Ones and their spawn.

• Necron Codex, 3rd Edition

And one of the main properties of these Halo Devices is giving immortality to it's user.

The truth, however, is that the devices will indeed grant their possessor what he seeks—youth, vigour, and undying power, but in such a manner only the most deranged would choose.

​

They are believed to come from ancient and dead worlds and are said to grant immortality to those who possess them.

• Dark Heresy: Disciples of the Dark Gods

Although whether this is their intended effect, an unintended side effect by fusing to an organic being it wasn't made to be fused to, or something else, is unclear. It does, however, at least hint to us similar themes to the Necrons.

Whether the effects of these devices on human tissue is deliberate or not is unclear; if they were deliberate, it would indicate a callous genius as well as a farsighted malignancy. If the effects of the devices are accidental, it speaks of a terrifying power that could cause such a by-product unrelated to their true purpose.

• Dark Heresy: Disciples of the Dark Gods

One small detail caught my eye in regards to the shape of the Halo Devices.

The form a Halo Device takes has no influence over its powers. Some commonly encountered forms are spheres (also called “halo oculus” for their resemblance to eyes), flat ovoids the width of a human palm, broad hoops varying in size, or small scarab or fossil-like objects.

• Dark Heresy: Disciples of the Dark Gods

Which is a peculiar detail, considering the scarab is a very Egyptian-esque symbol, and Necrons are abundant in Egyptian aesthetics, not to mention scarabs. Though it could mean nothing.
Another interesting detail is that the Halo Devices seem to be a very anti warp technology, as they cannot bond with someone who is corrupted by chaos/uses the warp.

A character with a Dark Pact, who is possessed, or who is a psyker (or the like) cannot bond with a Halo Device—the device will accept no master or influence but itself.

• Dark Heresy: Disciples of the Dark Gods

Which is very interesting, as the only race that we know of that's known to be anathema to the warp are the Necrons. To the extent that their grand plan is to seal the Warp completely from the Materium.

At the same time, and in response to the opening of the Great Rift, anti-Chaos protocols have released a long-imprisoned sect of Crypteks known as the Technomandrites. It was the command of the Silent King himself that saw these beings interred, for their sheer brilliance eclipsed that of all their rivals and - by forming a single, united guild - they risked becoming a power bloc that could eclipse the Triarch themselves. Yet now Szarekh seeks to implement a plan so vast in scope and ambitious in scale that he has chosen to treat with the Technomandrites and attempt to win their favour.
In the case of many - though by no means all - he has succeeded, for the Silent King’s scheme is a master stroke. By employing arrays of immense, negatively polarised noctilith pylons, he seeks to create zones that Humanity - in their dawning terror and ignorance - have christened Pariah Nexuses. Each of these regions span interstellar gulfs, their malign energies radiating out through the webs of pylons from one world to the next, and blanketing swathes of the galaxy in a shroud of soul-crushing energies.
Where the cyclopean pylons rise to the skies, entire regions of realspace are cut off from the warp as though by a fractured wall of glass. Though the effect is not absolute, warp travel and translation, astropathic messaging and the manifestation of daemonic or psychic energies become vastly more difficult. Should the scattered nexus sites extend until their fields merge, Szarekh believes that the threat of Chaos could be defeated for evermore.

• Necron Codex, 10th Edition

Now that I, have hopefully, established a plausible enough connection between the Necrons and the Halo Devices, brings me to the crux of what gave me this idea in the first place.
The way the Halo Devices work, is that, when they bond with you they cause you to go through various stages, each degrading you more and more. You begin to act erratically, develop an uncontrollable taste for flesh and even your finger bones grow into large talons.

He no longer sleeps, eats, or drinks normal food, but as he slips further into madness, he develops strange addictions and insatiable hungers that he must regularly indulge or grow increasingly unstable and sickly. These addictions often include spending long periods in total darkness or immersion in solar radiation, and the hungers are often for substances like human tissue—such as blood, flesh, and cranial fluid.

​

Instances of burning, radiant eyes, corpse-like flesh, distorted gaunt features, mottled or armoured hide-like skin, and even a fine beetle-like carapace are all recorded, and almost invariably the fingers of the hands transform into long talons of exposed bone.

• Dark Heresy: Disciples of the Dark Gods

Which, consequently, is exactly what happens to the Necrons cursed by Llandu’gor's plague, when they turn into the Flayed Ones.

Their curse was the parting gift of one of the C’tan: Llandu’gor, the Flayer. It is said that when the Necrons turned upon the C’tan, the Flayer was not merely splintered as were his brothers, but utterly obliterated. Yet, in his dying moments, he called down a terrible curse upon his betrayers, tainting them with an echo of his fearsome hunger. ... A Necron over whom the flayer curse has taken hold suffers a slow and tortuous erosion of sanity. It begins to revel in the bloody ruin of fleshed foes, and is driven to claim gruesome trophies of skin, sinew and bone. As the madness progresses, the victim becomes compelled to feast upon the fallen. It cannot actually digest or consume flesh in any sense – the blood simply seeps through the gaps in its exoskeleton to clog its joints and pool at its feet – yet still the Necron is driven to gorge itself upon gore in a doomed attempt to sate an unquenchable lust. Physical changes occur shortly thereafter, wracking and twisting the afflicted Necron’s form into something as warped in body as it is in function.

• Necron Codex, 8th Edition

The living metal of their bodies becomes corrupt, working physical changes that usually include the emergence of long metallic talons.

• Necron Codex, 10th Edition

There's too many coincidences for me to look past here. I like to think that the Halo Devices are a result of a cult of Necrontyr devoted to Llandu’gor, or maybe remnants of experimentation the C'tan did to his Necrontyr followers.
What do you guys think?

My partner and I do a lot of work at desks and on computers. In the last year, I have woken up three times with debilitating neck and shoulder pain. My gf has had to literally help me sit up to get out of bed. Today is the first day in a week that I could turn my head. I really thought I fractured a vertebrae or something. My wrist and fingers are also increasingly stiff from the mouse and keyboard. Doc says to look into more ergonomic office equipment.
If you have anything extra to help with that and you're located in inner SE or NE (or possibly downtown), we would really appreciate it. Even just suggestions for making what I have work would be welcome. Currently using a laptop and a wireless mouse (quickly became obvious the trackpad was awful). I don't think I need a new chair because my lower back is fine. We have started getting up every 30 minutes or so to do light stretches.
Thank you.

IGS Rep: https://www.reddit.com/IGSRep/comments/vujw39/whodunits_igs_rep_page/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3

Games I Have:

In NA, should be global keys. All are Steam unless stated otherwise in []. I have all of Humble Bundles May Choice except for Yakuza and Steel Rising, willing to trade the others! 3000th Duel A.I.M.2 Clan Wars Almost There: The Platformer Amanda the Adventurer AUTOMACHEF AVICII Invector Blazing Chrome Bravery & Greed Call of Duty®: WWII - Call of Duty Endowment Bravery Pack Call of Duty®: WWII - Call of Duty Endowment Fear Not Pack Comedy Night Company of Crime Deleveled Earth 2140 Earth 2150 Trilogy El Matador Eternal Threads Family Man Fury Unleashed HELLO NEIGHBOR + HELLO NEIGHBOR HIDE AND SEEK COLLECTION Hi-Fi Rush Honey, I Joined a Cult HORIZON CHASE TURBO I Am Not a Monster: First Contact King of the Castle Kraken Academy!! Levelhead Loddlenaut Mediterranea Inferno Meeple Station Men of War Merchant of the Skies Mitsurugi Kamui Hikae Moon Hunters NecroVisioN: Lost Company One Finger Death Punch 2 Parkan 2 Puss! Railway Empire Relicta Revolver 360 Re:Actor Seeds of Resilience Shotgun King: The Final Checkmate Size Matters Strategic Command WWII: World at War Stygian: Reign of the Old Ones THE AMBASSADOR: FRACTURED TIMELINES Total Tank Simulator Turbo Golf Racing Unmetal World War II: Panzer Claws X-MORPH: DEFENSE
​

Games I Want:

Offers are fine, I mostly enjoy RPGs, Horror, Strategy, and the like, but feel free to offer other stuff too! Especially interested in games with an East Asian setting right now.
Aeon of Sands - The Trail Amazing Cultivation Simulator Apotheon Bloody Spell Cattails: Wildwood Story Chernobylite Enhanced Edition Children of Morta Colony Ship: A Post-Earth Role Playing Game Cossacks 3 Darkwood Dead Rising 2 Dead Rising 2: Off the Record Death's Gambit Dominions Series Eastern Exorcist Eiyu*Senki Series Endless Legend Field of Glory II: Medieval Garage: Bad Dream Adventure GRIME Hand of Merlin Hands of Necromancy Heads Will Roll: Reforged Hylics Incredible Adventures of Van Helsing: Final Cut Inferno: Beyond the 7th Circle Islands of the Caliph Knights of the Temple: Infernal Crusade A Legionary's Life Love Esquire Ludus Mortis Medieval Dynasty My Burning Heart Operencia: The Stolen Sun Prince of Persia Series Rise of the Argonauts Rogue: Genesia Sacred Fire: A Role Playing Game Sakuna: Of Rice and Ruin Sands of Salzaar Shadow Corridor Shadows of Forbidden Gods Sid Meier's Pirates! Solasta: Crown of the Magister Small Saga Smushi Come Home Spellforce 1 + 2 Spellforce 3 Spellforce 3: Soul Harvest Stellar Tactics Total War: Rome Remasted A Total War Saga: Troy Umurangi Generation Urtuk: The Desolation Vagrus: The Riven Realms Vigil: The Longest Night White Day: A Labyrinth Named School Windy Meadow: A Roadwarden Tale Zeno Clash 1 and 2

IGS Rep: https://www.reddit.com/IGSRep/comments/vujw39/whodunits_igs_rep_page/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3

Games I Have:

In NA, should be global keys. All are Steam unless stated otherwise in []. I have all of Humble Bundles May Choice except for Yakuza and Steel Rising, willing to trade the others! 3000th Duel A.I.M.2 Clan Wars Almost There: The Platformer Amanda the Adventurer AUTOMACHEF AVICII Invector Blazing Chrome Bravery & Greed Call of Duty®: WWII - Call of Duty Endowment Bravery Pack Call of Duty®: WWII - Call of Duty Endowment Fear Not Pack Comedy Night Company of Crime Deleveled Earth 2140 Earth 2150 Trilogy El Matador Eternal Threads Family Man Fury Unleashed HELLO NEIGHBOR + HELLO NEIGHBOR HIDE AND SEEK COLLECTION Hi-Fi Rush Honey, I Joined a Cult HORIZON CHASE TURBO I Am Not a Monster: First Contact King of the Castle Kraken Academy!! Levelhead Loddlenaut Mediterranea Inferno Meeple Station Men of War Merchant of the Skies Mitsurugi Kamui Hikae Moon Hunters NecroVisioN: Lost Company One Finger Death Punch 2 Parkan 2 Puss! Railway Empire Relicta Revolver 360 Re:Actor Seeds of Resilience Shotgun King: The Final Checkmate Size Matters Strategic Command WWII: World at War Stygian: Reign of the Old Ones THE AMBASSADOR: FRACTURED TIMELINES Total Tank Simulator Turbo Golf Racing Unmetal World War II: Panzer Claws X-MORPH: DEFENSE
​

Games I Want:

Offers are fine, I mostly enjoy RPGs, Horror, Strategy, and the like, but feel free to offer other stuff too! Especially interested in games with an East Asian setting right now.
Aeon of Sands - The Trail Amazing Cultivation Simulator Apotheon Bloody Spell Cattails: Wildwood Story Chernobylite Enhanced Edition Children of Morta Colony Ship: A Post-Earth Role Playing Game Cossacks 3 Darkwood Dead Rising 2 Dead Rising 2: Off the Record Death's Gambit Dominions Series Eastern Exorcist Eiyu*Senki Series Endless Legend Field of Glory II: Medieval Garage: Bad Dream Adventure GRIME Hand of Merlin Hands of Necromancy Heads Will Roll: Reforged Hylics Incredible Adventures of Van Helsing: Final Cut Inferno: Beyond the 7th Circle Islands of the Caliph Knights of the Temple: Infernal Crusade A Legionary's Life Love Esquire Ludus Mortis Medieval Dynasty My Burning Heart Operencia: The Stolen Sun Prince of Persia Series Rise of the Argonauts Rogue: Genesia Sacred Fire: A Role Playing Game Sakuna: Of Rice and Ruin Sands of Salzaar Shadow Corridor Shadows of Forbidden Gods Sid Meier's Pirates! Solasta: Crown of the Magister Small Saga Smushi Come Home Spellforce 1 + 2 Spellforce 3 Spellforce 3: Soul Harvest Stellar Tactics Total War: Rome Remasted A Total War Saga: Troy Umurangi Generation Urtuk: The Desolation Vagrus: The Riven Realms Vigil: The Longest Night White Day: A Labyrinth Named School Windy Meadow: A Roadwarden Tale Zeno Clash 1 and 2

• Age

36

• Sex

Male

• Height

6'

• Weight

250 lbs

• Race

Caucasian

• Duration of complaint

Original injury was October 5th 2023

• Location (Geographic and on body)

right index finger

• Any existing relevant medical issues (if any)

none

• Current medications (if any)

none

• Include a photo if relevant (skin condition for example)

https://i.imgur.com/PEslQBf.jpeg
I was involved in an on the job accident last October, finger was crushed, fractured bone, stitches, antibiotics, etc. it's healed well overall, but the nail was heavily damaged. As time has gone on its mostly grown out without issue until last night. When I last remember looking at it, the split was about 2/3 down the nail, wake up today and it hurts and the split has spread down the full length of it.
I've mostly been simply avoiding using it, trim it when I can so it doesn't catch anything and pull. I suspect this is just a waiting game, but is there anything I can do to aid it's healing? Can I just... superglue it to hold it together while it grows out or something? Should I see about getting it cut out so it can grow in fresh from zero or something?

“Oh my God! It’s really him!”
Even before I turned around, I was sure that those shrill teenage voices were talking about me. I just couldn’t understand why. I wasn’t famous; I’d never done anything important in my life, and it had been a long time since I’d been in high school myself. The three girls were leaning over the glass barrier on the second floor of the mall, pointing at me with their hands over their mouths like they’d just seen a celebrity. When they realized that I’d spotted them, they ran giggling into the crowd, leaving me with an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach: what was all that about?
The sense of wrongness I felt only deepened as I walked into the store that I’d come to the mall to visit. Maybe it was just lingering discomfort from what had just happened, but I’d swear I felt eyes on the back of my neck as I walked down the aisles. Some of the other customers were staring too, I was sure of it–and that wasn’t all. Once my eyes had adjusted to the dim light inside the store, I realized that there was a chubby guy in dark clothing standing near the back exit of the store…recording me.
“Hey!” I shouted, but he was already gone, disappearing through the access door into the guts of the mall. I reminded myself that I was here to buy a teddy bear for my four-year-old niece–not chase some weirdo through a restricted area–and let him go.
“You alright?” the woman at the cash register asked when she saw my face.
“Yeah, it’s just…” I waved my hand vaguely.
“Oh yeah, I getcha. All the crazies come out of the woodwork this time of year. Before you came again, I had to break up two grown men who were fighting over a stuffed alligator. You believe that?”
I shook my head. Ordinarily, I avoided the mall like the plague at this time of year. The crowds and repetitive holiday music got on my nerves, but I’d promised my niece I’d get her a blue teddy bear from this specific store. Why she wanted that specific gift was a mystery to me, but toddlers aren’t known for their logic. The cashier scanned my card, frowned, then scanned it again.
“Says it’s blocked,” she grunted, and handed my plastic back to me with a suspicious look. “There are some ATMs on the second floor…if you’re able to withdraw cash, that is.” Her judgmental glare told me exactly what she thought of people whose cards got declined…and people who wasted her time.
As I fought my way through the sea of holiday shoppers, a preteen kid ran up to me and tossed a styrofoam cup of hot chocolate onto my chest.
“Did you get that?” he yelled over his shoulder at his friend, who snapped a photo and nodded. The pair of them were gone before I had time to get a good look at their faces, much less try to stop them. Wondering what the hell was wrong with people, I wiped off my ruined sweater and hurried to the ATMs.
The glowing blue screen in front of me soon confirmed my worst fears. I was locked out of all my accounts, and not just banking stuff, either: I couldn’t access my email or even social media: everything was blocked. It was like the floor had just dropped out from under me. Without those little lines of code, who was I, really? Trying to shake off that gut-wrenching feeling, I pulled out my phone to contact my bank…but I was already receiving another call.
I picked up immediately, only to hear a mechanical-sounding automated message:
“Congratulations, you've been selected–”
There was something disturbing about that voice, but I had already hung up by the time I realized what it was.
Another call was coming in. The number was slightly different from the first, but when I answered, there was no mistaking it: I was listening to my own voice. Sure, the words were eerily slow and the pronunciation was off, but I was definitely listening to…myself.
“Not very polite of you to hang up on me like that, Aiden. Not when I’ve got something so special to tell you.”
I sputtered, fumbling for a reply; the whole situation was just too strange.
“W-who is this? Who am I talking to?”
“Why, this is everyone, Aiden. Everyone who has a vested interest in seeing what you’ll do next. First, though, we think you ought to change shirts. That sticky hot chocolate must be uncomfortable, and besides, yellow isn’t really your color.”
Whoever I was talking to could see what I was wearing, which meant they could see me. My eyes darted from face to face, scanning the crowd–
“There’s no one to look for Aiden. I’m everywhere. See that outlet store in front of you, Aiden? We’d like you to go in and get yourself a new holiday sweater. Oh, and since your cards are blocked, you’ll have to steal it. Well? Go ahead. We’re waiting…”
I hung up. Of course, they called back again. And again. And again. I turned off my phone and slipped it into my pocket. My heart was pounding. What the hell was going on here? The police; that was it. I just had to talk to the police, to let them know I was being harassed and stalked…but by who?
Had I made any enemies lately? There was Tim, the I.T. guy from work, who had never seemed to like me very much. He knew who I was and maybe even had access to sound bytes of my voice–but would Tim really go this far just to mess with me? I wandered in a daze past giant ornaments and chlorinated fountains full of pocket change, barely aware of where I was going–
Until a guy with a goatee stopped dead in front of me and stuck out his hand, jabbing a blindingly-bright screen into my face.
“It’s, uh, for you…” he sounded as confused as I was. “Somebody called me and said he needed to talk to the guy in the yellow shirt with the hot-chocolate stain. That’s you, right? It’s something about somebody named Kimmy.” My blood ran cold. Kimmy was my mother’s nickname! People shoved angrily past the pair of us, but I didn’t care: all my thoughts were on the familiar voice coming through the stranger’s phone.
“We’re disappointed that you’re not rising to the challenge, Aiden. We think that maybe your mother should have raised a braver boy. Thankfully, user DarkStarr85 has generously agreed to go by 415 Meadowleaf Court and teach her a lesson.”
“Listen, whoever you are,” I shouted into the phone, making a few of the shoppers surrounding me jump. “This isn’t funny. I’m going to the police, and when I find out who you are–”
“You can go to the police if you want, Aiden. But that would ruin everyone’s fun…and besides, by the time you talk to them it will already be too late for Kimmy. Come on, Aiden. Why don’t you play along?”
I fell silent. For all I knew, there was nobody waiting at my mother’s house, and this sadist who spoke with my voice was just messing with me…but what if I was wrong?
“What do you want me to do?” I sighed.
“You see the man standing in front of you? The one whose phone you’re holding? We’d like you to punch that confused expression right off of his ugly face.”
The guy with the goatee blinked at me, wide-eyed and totally unsuspecting. I clenched my hand into a fist…then lowered it.
No. I wasn’t going to play their sick little game.
I threw the guy’s phone back to him and ran toward the restrooms. I remembered seeing some pay phones back there…I would just have to hope that they still worked.
The mall had seen better days, but the restroom hallway was particularly rundown. Most of the fluorescent lights were flickery or burnt out, and there was a nasty brown puddle of something stagnating by the wall. The first payphone was covered with graffiti and the second had been practically ripped off of the wall, but the third looked like it might still work. I jammed in some quarters and punched in my mom’s number.
“Honey?” my mother asked right away when she heard my voice. “Are you alright? You sound out of breath.”
Before I could explain, I heard something in the background on my mother’s end of the line: a doorbell.
“Ma, listen: whatever you do, do NOT open that door!”
“Are you sure? They’re knocking really hard. It must be important…”
“I don’t have time to explain, just get off the phone and call the police, okay?!” I shouted.
Glass shattered. Then the line went dead. A fat, scarred finger had pressed down the receiver, cutting off my call. I turned to face the hulking figure who stood between me and escape. His head was shaved close, his teeth crooked, and beneath his fat there was a lot of muscle. A single diamond earring sparkled in his left ear. He cracked his knuckles at me and grinned: he wasn’t alone.
“H-hey!” I stammered “That call was important!”
The big guy punched me in the stomach. His friends ran up behind me, shoved me to the ground, and held me there. They didn’t speak…but one was taking a video of what was happening. The big guy sat on my chest and started smacking my face until I was seeing stars; I felt a tooth come loose.
“You right-handed or left-handed?” The big guy asked.
“Right-handed–why does that matter?” I spat blood.
“We gotta make sure you can still answer a phone call when we’re done.”
He picked his foot up and stomped on my left hand. My fingers snapped beneath his boot with a sickening popping sound, and I screamed louder than I ever had in my life.
“What’s going on down there?” A security guard stood at the end of the dingy hallway, pointing his flashlight toward us. A group of shoppers had clustered there to watch the one-sided “fight.”
“You upload the video?” The big guy asked. His friend nodded. “We don’t get paid unless the video goes viral…”
“You three! Stop!” The guard yelled, running toward us. The big guy sighed. By the time the pudgy, middle-aged guard got close enough to realize how outmatched he was, it was too late: they were on him. Clutching my broken hand, I limped out into the crowd. No one offered to help…but I did notice that a few people were recording.
My head was reeling, and not just from my injuries. The whole situation was just too insane. Someone had stolen my name and voice…and they were paying people to torture me! I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I staggered out into the chilly parking lot and found that my car's tires had been slashed. That wasn’t the worst of it, either.
Some instinct, some primal fear, made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. When I turned around, I saw three familiar figures scanning the parking lot…searching for me. I didn’t like to think about what they might have in mind for Round Two.
I ducked and crept along behind the cars until I reached the line of trees that marked the border of the mall parking lot. On the other side was a service road: it was a mostly-abandoned strip of warehouses and boarded-up stores that ran alongside the highway. At the far end, I could see the glittering lights of a bus station. It might be my last chance to get home and get help.
I was halfway down the service road before I regretted my decision. I had tried several more times to call the police, but my phone was blocked by more of those awful calls, proposing more sick “tasks” for me:
“You’ve made us angry, Aiden. If you don’t want any more broken bones, you’ll walk out onto that highway, take off your clothes and start dancing–”
I hung up. The sound of the wind blowing through those desolate chain-link fences made me feel very alone…but I wasn’t. Someone was following me. They walked faster when I walked faster, slowed down when I slowed down, and never let me out of their sight. From the way they held their phone at their waist, facing me, I felt sure that they were recording me.
I had had enough. The stress of the whole nightmarish day had pushed me to a breaking point, and I don’t think I could have stopped myself if I wanted to. I turned and charged. It was the last thing my stalker had expected, and when they dropped their phone and ran, I realized that I recognized the figure: it was the chubby guy from the toy store, the one who I’d noticed filming me! I shouted after him, but he was already gone, snagging his leg on barbed wire as he sprinted across a construction site. I didn’t have the energy to pursue him…but I did have his phone.
When I picked it up from the sidewalk, I saw my own face staring back at me from the cracked screen. The picture was one I’d never seen before, one that I didn’t even know had been taken.
“Aiden Fisk,” read the caption, “what will he do next?” A video-clip played: a replay of everything that had happened so far. Grainy footage of me panicking in front of the ATM, being doused in hot chocolate, getting my arm broken…and walking nervously down the abandoned service road. Which meant…they knew where I was. As the video ended, the App opened: an app that was all about…me.
There were polls about what should happen to me, what I should be made to do next, and what my punishment should be if I failed. The more gruesome options, it seemed, were always the most popular. In another section, users could use cryptocurrency to bet on what I would do and track my location in real time. I was zooming in on my own location when a call came into the stranger’s phone.
“Hello again, Aiden.” My own voice said to me when I answered.
“Why are you doing this to me?!” I yelled into the receiver.
“You’re our entertainment, Aiden! You’re famous. You should be grateful. Now for your next task–”
I flung the phone away like it burned me. The lights of the bus station twinkled at the end of the service road, close yet far away at the same time. The road narrowed, becoming a one-lane alley between two construction sites, and the sidewalk disappeared. I hadn’t seen any cars so far, but I could hear the rumbling of an engine approaching behind me.
My shadow stretched out ahead, illuminated by a pair of rapidly-closing-in headlights. I waved, trying to make my presence known, but the driver didn’t stop; they didn’t even slow down. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed an enormous truck. It occupied the entire road, and even if I had had time to jump, there was nowhere to go.
A low scream escaped my lips as the truck’s front bumper nudged my lower back. I staggered, sure that I was done for, but the driver slowed to match my pace. They kept the so close that I could feel the heat of the motor, egging me on, forcing me to run faster and faster–
They could crush me beneath those huge tires anytime they felt like it, and they knew it. Was this my next punishment? I could imagine the app tracking my pace, people betting on how far I’d get before my legs or lungs gave out, and on which parts of me would shatter when I inevitably got run over. Up ahead, the road narrowed even more: dead bushes in concrete islands had been placed in front of the bus station as someone’s idea of landscaping. They didn’t add much beauty to the place, but if I jumped into them, the truck wouldn’t risk following me over the barrier…probably. I still wasn’t sure just how far these people would go for that sadistic app, but I had no choice but to take the risk.
My feet left the asphalt; branches cut into my arms and face as I crashed through to the other side, but the squeal of the truck’s brakes behind me was music to my ears. The bus lot was well lit. A few older men stood in a circle, smoking, while a young woman took her fussy toddler for a walk around the parking lot. The driver idled behind me, probably thinking the same thing I was: that there were a lot more witnesses here than on the service road.
By the time I got to my feet and looked back over my shoulder, the truck was just a pair of anonymous tail lights disappearing into the night. I wiped my scraped palms on my jeans and walked toward the station lights, wondering how much more of this I could take.
No one in the bus station seemed to be playing the app’s twisted game; in fact, no one looked up at me at all when I walked across the grimy tile floor toward the schedule board. The station was about to close: the next bus to my neighborhood wasn’t until six-thirty the next morning, and I had a nasty feeling that my “followers” would have caught up to me by then. My only option was to borrow someone’s phone and hope that I could call for help before the app found me.
Everyone I spoke to turned me down, and I could understand why. I was crazy-eyed and desperate, covered with scratches, and my broken hand had swollen to twice its normal size. I was about to give up when I felt a tap on my shoulder. The homeless man's clothes were in rags; his vomit-flecked gray beard hung down almost to his waist. The smell hit me like a wall, and it was hard to keep from gagging. He pressed something into my hand: a burner phone.
“It’s got one call left,” he grunted. “A whole minute. Good luck, pal. You look like you need it even more than I do.” He lurched back out into the dark before I could even say ‘thank you.’
Weighing the battered phone in my hand, I wondered who I should call. I doubted the police would get here in time; my mother wasn’t answering, and my best friend Sam was out of town on business. That left…Dani, my ex. She lived nearby, and besides, it was the only other number I knew by heart…even though I wished that I could have forgotten it.
Dani's voice was huskier than I remembered, but she picked up right away. The first words out of her mouth were the last thing I would have expected:
“Thank God. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for hours!”
She rushed into a story about how people had been calling and messaging her all day…people who were looking for me. She said it sounded like they wanted to hurt me. One even offered to pay her to seduce me and film the result. She had something to tell me, she said, but my minute was almost up. I had just enough time to tell her my location and beg her to come pick me up. There was a long silence: before she could answer, the line went dead.
I looked around. There was no longer anyone in the bus station to ask for a phone call: in fact, there was no longer anyone in the bus station at all. Metal shutters had been lowered over the ticket window and the vending machine area; the waiting room was empty apart from a discarded scarf that dangled sadly from a ripped-up seat.
Somewhere in the depths of the station came a loud SLAM, and the flickering fluorescent lights began to go out ,one by one. Maybe it was just the standard closing procedure, maybe it had nothing to do with me–but I wasn’t going to wait around to find out. I approached the nearest glass door, then jumped back as a figure wearing a white plastic mask slammed their shoulder into the door. They pushed at the door like a rabid animal, trying to get at me–
But it had already been locked when the station closed.
Furious, the stranger took out a hammer and swung it into the glass. Fractures appeared, and I wasn’t going to wait around for the door to shatter. I fled in the opposite direction, through the one remaining exit and out into the night.
I think part of me already knew what I’d find waiting for me, and that’s why I wasn’t surprised by the small group of masked individuals waiting just beyond the streetlights. All of them held glowing phone screens in their hands, and a few held weapons as well. I spotted lengths of chain…a baseball bat…a gutting knife…
As they started toward me, a car drifted into the empty parking lot, its tires squealing. Dani threw open the passenger-side door and shouted at me to get in.
She peeled out as I slammed the door shut. Her car was just as dirty as I remembered: fast-food bags on the floor, makeup kit crammed into the door tray, half-drunk coffee mugs in every cup holder. It had always struck me as funny that such a well-regarded scientist could be so disorderly.
After an awkward silence as we merged onto the highway, Dani told me that it was over–or at least, she hoped it was. As we sped through the night, she did her best to explain what she thought had happened.
Dani’s work (or at least, as much of it as I understood) involved using artificial intelligence. When we were together, we had made a lot of jokes about Terminator and Hal-9000, but her research had never seemed sinister…at least, not until recently. Her most recent project was an A.I. that designed phone applications. She had built it to maximize profits and interaction: to identify what people wanted, and give it to them.
To her horror, Dani discovered that the A.I. had begun operating outside of its parameters–even accessing her personal files in its endless quest for a better product. She figured that was where it had found my image, voice, and other information. After analyzing trends across time, the A.I. had determined that there was nothing people enjoyed more than participating anonymously in the suffering of others: I was its first test subject, simply because it had found my data first.
The A.I., Dani added quickly, wasn’t really to blame. It was people who had chosen to interact with it, download it, and make my life a living hell. It had done nothing more than fulfill its function, encouraging whatever behavior that got the most views and likes. Once Dani had realized what was happening, she had shut the A.I. down…or tried to.
It had apparently already spread itself to other networks–although “spread” wasn’t the word that Dani used. The word she used was “infected.” As Dani dropped me off at home, she told me not to worry: her organization would “almost certainly” take care of it, and I “probably” had nothing to worry about…
But just in case, she asked me to spread the word:
If you notice people staring at you or taking pictures of you in public…
If you find yourself locked out of your accounts, or if you receive a barrage of strange messages…
You might be next.

Hey all - I had an IUD fitted today as part of my perimenopause treatment and thought I'd share the experience. As a 37-year old, I'd never had an IUD before so didn't know what it would be like, and thought I'd share in case anyone else is facing a similar treatment path!
Below is long, but I wanted to give a detailed account. I hope it's helpful to somebody (and doesn't break any rules, mods!)
Background
I was recently diagnosed as perimenopausal at the age of 37. I had loads of symptoms, but key among them have been heavy, clotty and increasingly painful periods, and very irregular cycles (anything from 10 to 40 days) over the past 18 months or so - despite being on the progesterone-only pill (which can actually stop periods in some women.. but obviosuly not me, lol).
After eventually getting a referral to a gynaecologist I was diagnosed as perimenopausal and they recommended I start HRT. Given my medical history (previously had received combination BC pill but had to stop as I was getting migraines) and period troubles, they recommended a topical (gel/lotion) estrogoen, and a progesterone coil (Mirena). So I got myself booked into the sexual health clinic for a coil to be fitted.
Before the appointment
I took 1000 mg paracetamol (acetominophen) about an hour before the appointment and made sure I had some breakfast (honestly, I think they recommend the painkiller this more for the cramping pain you get afterwards, rather than the pain of the actual insertion).
The insertion is a similar set up to getting a smear test, so if you'd feel more comfortable wearing a dress or skirt consider that (I figure, my fanny is going to be out no matter what, so I opted for leggings as I find these comfy even if I'd have to take them off completely). I also packed a sanitary pad as some bleeding can happen, and in my country the pads the free clinics give out are massive and have no wings, and I wanted to be confident in my pad's abilities!
At the appointment
After checking into the clinic and waiting a few minutes, a lovely nurse came to collect me and took me back into the treatment room/office. She sat me down and asked a few health questions (about my periods, what contraception I was currently using, sexual health/partners, if there was a chance I could be pregnant, etc.), then talked me through potential side effects and risks of the procedure. This (and my experience of it!) was as below:

• Undressed (pants/trousers and underwear) behind a curtain, and lay down on the bed. I was given a large sheet of paper towel to cover myself with. At this point, a second nurse joined to assist in passing various bits to the first nurse, and check on me while the insertion was going on
• Bend knees and place feet onto special pads or stirrups
• Internal exam conducted (nurse inserted two fingers into vagina to check vaginal canal and cervix), and also palpated (pushed) on pelvis above where the uterus is - this took maybe 5-10 seconds tops, and was a little uncomfortable - about the same discomfort pain as getting a smear test
• Speculum inserted and opened - this was kind of uncomfortable, and felt like a kind of pressure, but was familiar from smear tests
• Before fitting the IUD, the nurse has to measure how deep your uterus is so they know how far to push the IUD in. To do this, they use what essentially is a thin plastic stick with a ruler on it. To get this into your uterus, they obviously have to go through the hole in your cervix. As part of this, they grip the cervix with a pair of forceps, and gently pull to hold it in place. I thought this would be the most painful part, but honestly it wasn't much worse than the speculum in terms of pain levels
• What I did find painful however was when the measuring stick touched the top of the uterus. At this point there was a pretty substantial stabbing, cramping feeling. It was painful enough to make me say 'OUCH' out loud, and I found I was getting a bit upset and having to breathe through the pain, as it did last for a little while (probably only around 10-20 seconds, but at the time it feels like longer)
• I have a pretty high pain threshold (I can get piercings and tattoos without blinking an eye, pretty sure I've hairline fractured some digits and never sought treatment, repeatedly had some bad sprains, sliced my palm open and pain was manageable, etc.) but I have to be honest... this was pretty bad. It's probably some of the worst pain I've had, but I would rate it a 6/7 out of 10 on a pain scale - I could go worse before having to stop and give up and explore getting it fitted under sedation, for example
• Once the nurse has the measurement, they take the IUD fitting device out of the box. It comes in a sort of long plastic tube with the little arms folded down flat so it can pass through the hole in the cervix. Once again, they clamp down on the cervix, and push the tube through (they had to switch to a slightly smaller IUD at this point as the original one they wanted to fit was too big to fit into my dainty womb apparently!). And again, the worst pain was when they made contact with the top of the uterus and opened the IUD up
• The tube and speculum are removed and that's it - it's fitted. The whole insertion process took maybe 5 minutes, but it was uncomfortable and there's the usual 'fanny out in front of strangers who are digging around down there' awkwardness

The nurses were great throughout, they were very kind and calming, checked in on me often and told me what they were doing at each step.
If you are interested, there's a sort of training animation available online you can watch: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVZoH0Pda-4
Afterwards & next steps
After it was inserted and they'd closed the curtains, I was able to lie there for a while and recover. I sat up slowly in case I felt light-headed (nurse said I might), but I was fine. The pain was now more like bad period cramps - painful but not as bad as the stabbing pain during the insertion. I would say if you are used to bad period cramps it would be familiar pain. Using my pain scale I'd say they were a 5/6 out of 10.
I put my pad into my underwear and got dressed. The nurse gave me some leaflets and a reminder card, reminded me to take pain killers and advised that I give it about 30 mins before driving home.
I left the clinic and walked back to my car. I was pretty uncomfortable so I sat in there for about 20-30 mins. The cramps were coming in waves, and after a while I had to get home so started driving. I was safe to drive but I felt a bit drained after it all, so you might want to get a friend to drive you if you can.
Since then, the cramps have been getting better. About 6 hours from the insertion and the pain is down to a 2/3, and still coming in waves, although they are further apart. I have doubled up on painkillers though to help - 3 hours after I took that first paracetamol/acetominophen I took 400 mg ibuprofen, and am keeping up with painkillers according to the dosing instructions they come with. I've had a hot water bottle on my tummy to help too. I've felt a bit nauseous, but have made sure to eat.
I have had some bleeding. Not a lot so far - it's more like a sort of spotting bleeding, but it does look as though there's some endometrial tissue in it (which would make sense seeing as my uterus has been repeatedly poked!).
Stupidly I didn't take the day off work - I kind of naively thought that the worst of it would be at the point of insertion. I'm working from home, but I am defintiely not as effective as I normally am, and I could have done with having the day for rest and some self-care. If you are getting an IUD fitted I strongly suggest taking the day for yourself if you can.
The coil should last about 8 years before it needs removing/replacing (unless something happens in the meantime).
In a week I have a call with my doctor about starting the oestrogen.
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As I say, I hope this was helpful. I'd be happy to answer any questions if anybody has any!

so I'm 20 and my hairline has absolutely gone back since I was 18. not fully receded yet, but it's starting to do weird stuff. namely these weird hairs I've been noticing that are wiry and extremely curly in a way that is very strange. they hold their shape like springs. I'm noticing a lot of them around the front of my hairline and the temples. when I pull my hair back flat against my head they pop up. I can pull my fingers gently down one and it's not smooth, it's bumpy and uneven. they also seem to be shorter than my other hairs in places, although there are quite long ones as well. I have naturally wavy hair, not curly, but I'm thinking since my hair is not straight, the hair follicles may be starting to miniaturize in a way that's making it grow curly? since the shape of the follicle influences the hair. the thing is I'm starting to notice them on the sides and back of my head too. this is definitely new and I don't know what's going on. I'm gonna start minoxidil since it's not bad yet and see if that helps? but yeah I can't find many pics of what I'm talking about when I try so I'm wondering if anyone here knows what I'm talking about or has experienced the same?

Part of why I think DFW was so prolific was that his social observations were so timeless and they continue to reverberate today, despite our current society being radically different on the surface from the 90s and early 2000s. Most notably, his worries about alienation, 24/7 entertainment and television directly translate to our current age of endless scroll social media. Reading Up, Simba, it was cool to see that his views of McCain's 2000 campaign also reflect on today's politics of "anti-candidates" and charisma. Keep in mind I'm analyzing this as a leftie.
The basic conclusion of the essay is that American politics is ultimately about charisma and Americans wanting "anti-candidates". Americans vote based on the image filtered and fractured to us through media, and also, importantly, based on what we most desire to see in a candidate. Actual policy is secondary to party lines and this personality contest. Of course as we know, what we desire to see and what a candidate actually stands for are very different things. Americans are cynical and wise to the salesmanship of US politics, but that doesn't stop us from voting based on our human desires for a leader, but simultaneously, our need for a rebel who goes against our perceived establishment. We look at surface level qualities of people who we think inspire and fulfill our base concepts of a leader, but also satisfy our desire for an "anti-candidate" to shake up the system that's screwed us.
And what came after DFW's analysis in 2000? Obama v. McCain. Obama in 2008 was very charismatic and represented hope and change, contrasted to McCain who was the first Republican anti-candidate, as DFW wrote about. I feel like these two were like our "soft" anti-candidates.
And then what? Trump. The ultimate Republican anti-candidate. Such an obvious salesman but for cynical, disenfranchised right-wingers, the biggest middle finger to their perceived evil establishment. Against Trump, Hillary had no charisma. Bernie did, but we know what happened there.
I think today, with DFW's analysis in mind, things are particularly bleak. Voters have no clear inspiring candidate like Obama or Bernie appeared to be. Biden only won for the anti-Trump sentiment and he grows more uninspiring every day. And in the future, young voters will not inherit the wealth of US capitalism like past youth did in the 60s and 80s. It was easy for boomers to settle down, "de-radicalize" and vote for the establishment, if they could still buy a house and daily necessities and go to college. I think as material conditions worsen in the States, and our institutions grow weaker, we're going to see this idea of charisma and anti-candidates mutate in all sorts of scary ways. I wish that Americans did not vote based on surface level feelings over real policy, but DFW shows just how American it is to numb ourselves as the system continues to chew us up.
Maybe DFW's political analysis isn't so unique or special, but of course the best part about his writing is the lush and hilarious description. He has such a great way of humanizing his subjects by totally immersing us in them, showing both the funny and the tragic. As he says in the essay, he's not a political commentator, but I do think he's amazing at showing rather than telling. I'm curious to hear what y'all think.

24 Male, no smoke, drink or drugs.
I fractured my distal radius and had surgery to plate the break and pin the bone back into place. I got surgery Friday around 12:30. I received a nerve block, i couldn’t move my fingers for the first 24 hours or so. Some of my fingers are still somewhat numb a couple of days later. My pinky has no numbness at all and it feels normal. My ring finger is numb at the very tip. My middle finger, pointer, and thumb fingers still pretty numb but i can feel when i touch it. I can move them pretty freely. Is this normal after wrist surgery to experience this numbness? Is it still the nerve block in my system? I am starting to get worried.