TW for sexual, physical, medical, emotional, and religious abuse, childhood sa, suicidal ideation, and self harm
This past week has been incredibly difficult so I decided it would be good for me to write a letter to my mom to keep for myself during my healing process to get everything out and it's been very cathartic (all fake names used). Part of my healing journey has been sharing my (extremely personal) experience with others who understand, hence why I'm sharing this here, and maybe it'll give someone some strength knowing that I made it out. I hope everyone is kind to themselves this week and was able to treat this holiday as a holiday for themselves for surviving their abusive moms!
Dear mom, Happy belated Mother’s Day. My Mother’s Day was spent being upset and anxious so I decided to write this letter. This letter is so incredibly difficult to write and even more difficult to read back to myself. Moving away from my university and back home during COVID was genuinely one of the most difficult things I have done in my life simply because of all of the repressed memories that flooded back into my brain every single day I was in that house. I used to resent the pandemic for forcing me to live in an environment that made me want to harm myself every single day and die every other day, but I am now thankful for the clarity that it brought me as I don’t think I’d have the foresight that I have now.
There is a lot that I want to say. I am angry, bitter, resentful, and traumatized from things that you have done to me as a child and also as an adult. Growing up, you’re never able to fully recognize what is healthy because whatever you experience will be your barometer for normalcy. I thought for a very long time that thing were normal but thank God I now know just how truly fucked up so many of my childhood experiences were. Not a single day goes by where I don’t think about the emotional, physical, and sexual abuse that I went through. I am haunted every single day by things that you did (and some things that you didn’t do) and hope that one day I will be able to heal from what I experienced.
I grew up being close to my cousin Chloe (a year younger than me) who was obviously very bitchy, mean, and abusive. This fact isn’t something you weren’t aware of as I know a fully grown adult would be able to see how she treated and talked to me when around you and come to the obvious conclusion that I should not have been allowed to be around her. She bullied me, called me names, physically assaulted me by pushing me, pulling my hair, and sitting on me with my hands held behind my back until I couldn’t breathe, forced me to bathe in scolding hot bath water that would burn my skin, making me undress and make fun of parts of my body, and forced me to watch things that she knew would scare me. This is the same time that I started having insomnia and struggled in school due to anxiety. It’s also the same time I remember my sound sensitivity starting. Do you remember my childhood friend’s mom Amelia and how protective she was over my friend, Diana? Diana met Chloe at my 9th birthday party and Diana went over to her house for a playdate and Chloe did something to her. She physically reached over and groped Diana on the privates. I knew Amelia IMMEDIATELY prevented her daughter from ever being around Chloe again. I also knew that it's possible she mentioned this to my aunt, but I'm not positive. I know that Amelia is the type of mom to prevent Diana from reading Harry Potter because she thought it was a bad influence on her due to being “demonic”, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she made you aware of what Chloe did to Diana as she knew that I spent a lot of time around her. I doubt that what Chloe did to Diana was ever kept a secret from you. Chloe also forced me to do sexual things I didn’t want to do from roughly the ages of 8-11. One time, we were in her kitchen and she pulled out a knife and said that she was going to stab me. By then, I knew she just wanted to scare me so when I had no reaction, she put the knife away. I was terrified of what would happen if I said no to her so I went along with whatever she wanted. She would go into the bathroom and tell me to follow, would lock the door, and make me take off my clothes and let her do things to me and forced me to do the same things to her. I used to think that you had NO IDEA about this until I remember you saying the words- “you were an amazing kid and never had any problems until you got a little older. I always wondered if something happened.” Who the fuck says that to their kid? Yeah, something did happen and it wouldn’t have happened if you protected me!!!! You fucking idiot!!!! I remember being in our new house and taking a shower with you when I was about 8 (which was VERY inappropriate and should NEVER have happened at all) and saying something that clearly made you uncomfortable. I remember the exact face you made and know that any normal, healthy adult would have done something about it and made sure nothing was happening. They would have made sure I was SAFE, and talked to me about safety, but nothing was said or done. You have failed me many times, but this one is the most painful. Not only will you need to live with the fact that you knew about my abuse and did nothing, but I will have to live with the fact that my mom knew "something happened” and didn’t care about me enough to protect me. I look at my beautiful niece Hallie, and imagine not protecting her like that and want to vomit. I cannot fathom how a mother would have the thought “I wonder if something happened to my daughter to case a massive behavioral change” and NOT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT! You didn’t talk to me, never asked me if Chloe was doing anything, or anything at all. If I even had a minor suspicion that something was happening to Hallie, I would IMMEDIATELY do something about it because THAT IS MY JOB as an adult in her life. You failed me and deserve to know that this traumatized me and gave me PTSD. I am NOT autistic, no matter how much you WANT me to be so you can go around and gain sympathy for “having an autistic daughter” rather than owning up to the fact that you caused what “went wrong” with me.
Not only did you not help prevent me from being molested by my cousin, you also added to my sexual trauma by forcing me to use the giant egg monistat insert to treat a yeast infection when I was 11. I was ELEVEN and you had a bright idea to force a HUGE foreign object into my prepubescent body even though you were fully aware I could have easily gotten a prescription for a pill to swallow from a doctor. I was scared. I had so much pain and itching and needed a mother to hug me, tell me it’s going to be okay, or at the very least, EXPLAIN what I had and how we were going to fix it. You didn’t do any of that. You told me to lay down and proceeded to try and administer medication that is NOT meant for children 12 and under due to the physical damage it could cause. I was clearly in pain and scared, but you kept trying anyways. At any point, you could have stopped and taken me to the fucking doctor, but nope. You then got frustrated that “you couldn’t get it in” and told your 11 year old daughter to shove it inside herself. Then you left the room. I hadn’t even had a period yet, let alone know where my vagina was but you sure felt the need to yet again abandon your parental responsibilities and place them onto your kid! Miraculously, I put it in and wobbled out to lay on the couch because I was in physical pain from BOTH the infection and YOU, but because a child’s body isn’t able to properly fully insert the medication used (which once again I’ll remind you is meant for girls 13 and up), it came out and got on the couch because you didn’t give me a pad. And rather than prioritize your own daughter’s health, safety, wellbeing, and comfort, you were more upset about the stain on the couch and yelled at me. I will never forget in all of the years that I am alive how ashamed and disgusted I felt standing behind you watching you furiously scrub at the stain that I caused (actually, that YOU caused since this never should have happened in the first place!) and feeling a huge flood of guilt every time I saw that couch stain. One of the best days of my life was when we got a new couch and I never had to see that stain again.
All of this caused me to develop anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts and ideation, self harming behaviors, having out of body experiences where I dissociate, and panic attacks amongst other things. YOU caused ALL of this and you fought tooth and nail to convince me that it was MY fault for being broken. “There’s something going on with you,” and you made it your mission to never take any responsibility for any of the trauma that you caused. Not only did you ignore all signs of abuse and sexually assault me yourself, you bullied and helped a family friend Sharon bully me when I was “being mean” to (her daughter) Faith. I was treated like I was a mentally ill monster who couldn’t be trusted and always got in trouble whenever Faith shed a single tear because I was “mean to her”. Faith cried at LEAST 15x a day, and I was blamed every time she decided to say I was the reason. You allowed a monster (Sharon) to ABUSE me and had the incredibly wise idea to start passing along what shit talking you two would say about me TO ME, a 13 year old girl. I was THIRTEEN. I was A CHILD. And yet, you came crying and complaining to me about how tired you were of hearing Sharon say I was being mean to her daughter when you could have TOLD THE OTHER ADULT IN THE SITUATION TO STOP. It never was my responsibility as a child to try and make another adult stop abusing me by “behaving better.” There was nothing wrong with how I was behaving. You never once tried to help me, you always blamed anybody and everybody else for your failures. I would come and ask you for help when I was struggling and if you didn’t care, you would pawn it off to somebody else- “go talk to your older sister” “talk to your therapist about that” “I don’t know what to say except to tell you to pray about it” and when I came back saying praying didn’t magically fix my depression, you told me to pray harder. I guess you really thought it was a skill issue rather than a diagnosable health condition! No wonder I wanted to die! Hahaha! I’ll never forget the look of disgust on your face when I was sobbing hysterically and struggling to get out the words when I told you just how badly I was affected by Sharon and said how you played a role in helping her harm and abuse me. “WELL. I’m SORRY if you think I didn’t protect you enough. I know what that feels like because my parent’s took my sister’s side a few weeks ago when we were having an argument” (as FULLY GROWN 50+ YEAR OLDS arguing and bitching LIKE CHILDREN!) No, mom, it’s not the same. I was a child and not only did you not stop an abuser from harming me, you joined in. You allowed her access to me and you passed along what horrible things she said was wrong with me. “SHARON said she thinks YOU’RE BIPOLAR. Do you think you are?” “Sharon told me that you’re having AN EPISODE and are being mean to Faith! Show me your phone!” “Well, I just don’t understand why you keep bringing this up when it happened so long ago. I just hope you can forgive her and move on.” You’re fucking disgusting. Should I go into detail about how many times I asked you to not interact with Sharon more than you needed to and you proceeded to try and force her into my life more? You KNEW how uncomfortable I was with you attending Faith’s wedding and yet, you cared more about how you looked and not only attended, but hosted both her wedding and wedding showers. I have always wondered why you never cared how I feel until I realized that you prioritize yourself and how you look to other people above anything and everyone. There is a clear pattern of behavior-

• When I was 17 and you were painting my fingernails and berating me for wanting to visit my friend up in Boston to see a concert together because “you just didn’t understand why I’d want to do that” and I started crying. You rolled your eyes and said “you better leave now if you don’t want my next client to see you crying because her appointment is in a few minutes.” You cared more about having your random client seeing me cry and potentially thinking you’re a bad mom than comforting me.
• When I was 13 and we were saying our nightly prayer the night that I had my “therapy appointment” (aka, you and my “therapist” chastising me for writing in my diary that I was having suicidal thoughts), when you were praying you said “Dear God, please help (my name)… and… pLEASE HELP ME!!!!” Clearly, YOU were affected more than I was even though I was the one wanting to die because of you. Wow. Your life is so hard!
• Telling everyone around you that I “have problems” and am “really struggling” so you can gain an ounce of sympathy. The way that your friends come up and talk to me is baffling. They treat me like I just got home from the psychiatric hospital.
• Laughing about me with my friends in high school when I was out of the room- “hahaha my daughter is sooooo weird hahaha”
• When I was 18 and you called my “therapist” (who did NOT get my consent before doing this and violated her ethical guidelines) after I moved out and stopped talking to you, you got her to help you write a list of “rules” to force me to stay in contact with you. They consisted of requiring me to “talk to you, dad, or my sister at least 1x/day” so you “knew that I was safe” aka, you wanted to control me even though I was an adult and not living in your house. I was perfectly safe, and yet you made me sound like I was doing drug deals in the morning, prostituting myself after lunch, and had plans to commit felonies later that night. I went to school, ate, and went back to my apartment. You had no right manipulating me into talking to you by using my therapist, dad, and sister against me. Pathetic.
• Telling me to go do my runs on a strange man’s property instead of the road because it’s “safer.” Dad said that this man who I’VE NEVER MET told him that “there are bad people out there who will kidnap her and do horrible things to her, SO INSTEAD she should run on MY property!” Not sketchy or rapey at all, right? And completely dismissing me when I said that made me uncomfortable by saying “my dad knows him”? Lady, do you know any rape statistics? Clearly not, because you’d then know that only 7% of assaults are strangers while 93% are family members or acquaintances. NINETY THREE PERCENT. The amount of times that I’ve mentioned someone made me uncomfortable or had a massive affect on me as a child and you’ve replied with “Oh, well did they touch you?” People don’t have to touch me to traumatize me. You’re pathetic for thinking that.

I’m not mad at Chloe. I don’t feel any anger or ill will towards her at all. She was a child just like I was a child. She was failed more than I was failed. No child acts that way and assaults other children without learning that from somewhere. I blame her parents for what happened to her. I blame YOU for what happened to me. I vividly remember things that my aunt would say the same time this was happening about little girls and their bodies and I want to smash my head against the wall. Children are to be protected above anything and everything else, by you didn’t. Do I hate Faith and think that she’s a bad person because of what happened when we were 13? No. I fully blame you and Sharon. The amount of adults that have failed me in my life keep me up at night. I think about how different my life would be had dad been more involved and seen what was going on and taken me away from you. I am angry with him for that. I dream one day I will be able to sit down with him and tell him everything I have written about and he will hug me, support me, cry with me, and apologize for not being there more to protect me. But who knows, he might defend his child abusing, mentally ill wife and say I’m making up everything. Who knows.
Do you want to know what my sister said when I told her all of this? She apologized to me for not being 15 years older than I am so she could have raised me instead. I want you to sit here and think about how fucked up that is. My own sister wishes she could have taken me away from you so you couldn’t have abused me. I imagine the pressure she must have felt having to grow up while also raising her mother and sister and I sob for her. I’ve sobbed for me for the mental anguish and torture I experienced at your hands. I’ve even sobbed for you because I can’t imagine being even a fraction of how fucked up you are to resort to abusing and neglecting your child- a child you begged to have. A child you had trouble having and prayed for. Embarrassing.
I’m never going to have a relationship with you again. If God is willing, I will never have to interact with you ever again. Saying that phrase “if God is willing” is ironic because you forcing me to pray my problems away rather than helping me led me to not believe in him. How can I believe in something that also neglected me? I’d sit in my dark bedroom night after night praying and sobbing for him to help me. I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I felt broken and alone. I now know that I was a child praying for God to take away my PTSD, and that is not possible. My heart breaks for that child.
You’re a pathetic excuse for a mother and human being. I’m truly shocked that I survived you and your abuse. I’m surprised that I didn’t ever try to kill myself to try and get away from you because you’re a vulture that prays on innocent people. The only important people in your life are people you think will give you something or will make you look good. That’s why you refused to ever cut ties with Sharon, you knew she was sexually abused as a child and you couldn’t POSSIBLY NOT be her friend because you need her to be your “friend,” or rather, your token sexually abused as a child friend. I genuinely hope that you get better and become a normal healthy person but I won’t ever be around to see it. I hope you feel even a fraction of the pain and abandonment that I have felt my entire life. Happy Mother’s Day, but today isn’t Mother’s Day for me, it’s Daughter’s Day. Moving far away from you one month ago has truly saved my life. Instead of trying to survive, I am enjoying my life. I would have died in that house. I get to finally celebrate being away from you and celebrate myself for staying strong and fighting when I could have easily given up. You once told me “you feel like I HATE you!” to guilt me into fawning over you and telling you how much I loved you, but now you get the opposite. I DO hate you and hate how you have permanently changed me and I wish to never see you again. Instead of praying for the “God forsaken, atheist, lost, evil, liar, miserable, spiteful, hateful, disgusting, mentally ill, “autistic” daughter, pray for yourself. Pray for God’s forgiveness for emotionally, medically, physically, sexually, and religiously abusing and neglecting me. You deserve to remain in your "clueless" state of "having NO IDEA what you did wrong to make her stop talking to me!" for the rest of your life.Happy Daughter’s Day.

The Boys - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1iAmuSv8zeemGE-E4YZpBk9E3P5ZTiWc7/view [Suggestion from Dragon-King-of-Death (Thank You)]]

• {Lovable Dork (200cp)}: For some reason people will find you lovable and easily trust you. For example, a person who just met you on a park bench a few days ago will trust you enough to tell you about their deepest insecurities and issues.
• {Chosen By God (400cp)}: •Vought International spouts nonsense about their heroes being Chosen by God. Unlike them, you might actually be Chosen by God. You’ve (probably) never met him, but with the rate that you have fortuitous encounters, you’re pretty sure that someone is looking out for you. You’ll meet important people and find it easy to obtain important items. And if you have powers, they are not the by-product of Compound V. This perk also acts as a Capstone Booster.
• {Super PR (600cp)}: The hardest part of being a hero is not the villains, it’s the public. But don’t worry, thanks to this perk it’s no longer a problem for you. Most people will see you as a heroic figure and an inspiration. This public image of you won’t deteriorate unless there is irrefutable proof of your shortcomings or crimes. You can tone this down if you want to. Supes who have purchased this perk can choose to replace the Deep in the Seven. (Chosen By God): Your public image recovers very quickly even when there is irrefutable proof of your shortcomings or crimes. People quickly forget about scandals and even truly heinous actions will eventually be dismissed as a 'phase' you were going through.

Generic Harry Potter Fanfiction - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1GX7oeYt88WKpYCTwbdE-s6ypNIvNkWw7/view?usp=sharing [Suggestion From Massive_Awareness_63 (Thank You)]

• Friend Maker - ​You’re a nice guy, Jumper. Whatever else people take away from meeting you, this is something just about everyone who has so much as exchanged a few words with you agrees on. You’re polite, somehow make time for everyone, and have an easy smile. Getting people to like you and let you join their social groups and clubs is a matter of trivial effort, staying in any groups you’re already part of is easier still. Even your worst detractors will have to dig very deep to find bad things to say about you.
• Legendary Healer - ​You are a good person, Jumper. And this reflects in your magic. You are a healer without peer, being a master at all aspects of it. From potioneering, to tricks of transfiguration, whatever it takes to heal another person is something you are an expert at already. But a talent for healing is well and good. However, there are gifts and abilities of any and all types in the world. Necromancy, Parsel-Magic, Blood Magic, etc. While several are benign and helpful, a lot of them seem like they can only ever be used for evil. Not by you, though. You have the ability to use any and all gifts and powers you have for good and benign purposes. Blood magic can be used as a healing tool, powers that can rip the land asunder can be used to divert floods and prevent earthquakes, an ability to eat souls can be used to instead remove any curses or maladies lain on a soul, and so on. You have the unique ability to share this ability with others, allowing good people born with “bad powers” to use their powers for good pursuits without issue.
• Heart of Gold - ​It’s a curious thing you do, alternating between horrific evil and lighthearted whimsy as you are. One day you might be bathing in the blood of a thousand innocents, the other day you might be saving orphans from a fire. What this means for you is that no amount of foul and/or corruptive influence, magical or not, can actually hold a hope of corrupting or subverting you, always sliding off like so much dreck. Unless, that is, you want to be evil for some reason. Additionally enemies you have will be highly likely to think that you could be “redeemed” (either for good or evil, it works both ways!) and therefore will probably try to capture you first and are unlikely to try to kill you outright unless you’ve proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that you won’t join them. Finally you possess both an incredibly sinister villain laugh and a hearty “good guy” laugh as well, and can chew the scenery and be as hammy as you want while still being taken completely seriously instead of being seen as a lame try-hard.

Exalted Outcast - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1XgV07ZoFyIShkVruey8UW2W-G9IHIDT3/view?usp=sharing [Suggestion From Sundarapandiyan1 (Thank You)]

• I will never love you...

... for I do not understand what love means. If you wish to serve me and give me the things I desire, I am willing to tolerate your presence. Much like Valentin, you are as beautiful as longing itself. People will come to you, and compete for your attention. And when they don’t have it, when you invoke love in others and do not return it, it becomes devotion. Perhaps the lack of reciprocal feelings only makes it stronger, as the pursuit of you becomes an abstract ideal. Regardless, many will find themselves eager to please you with little expectation for you to care in return. Even those not bewitched will be touched by your queerly enchanting mien and grace. Truly few could refuse you or bar your way. Few is not none. While your enrapturing nature is even stronger than Valentin’s, don’t forget that his nature didn’t save him in the end.
Narnia - https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1qb0_OLhDrDZ1lIUlBqa3A4azA/view?usp=sharing&resourcekey=0-0B2v1IAAqocxpzk1r88_-A [Suggestion From Dragon-King-of-Death (Thank You)]

• Heart of a Child [400], Discount Drop-In

Once a friend to Narnia, always a friend to Narnia. You possess a sense of childlike wonder and excitement that can never be completely extinguished, no matter how many years you live or how many horrors you witness. No matter how much you may change over the years, there will always remain some core that is essentially you. This also improves your resistance to telepathic influence, magical curses of despair, and other similar effects.
Mark Antony - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xqV1SMWGoBxdZwsSkSRODHkScyMaeFHpfK1Hcp3-wAo/edit [Suggestion From Sundarapandiyan1 (Thank You)]

• Sins of the father: Your predecessors' mistakes don't influence people's opinion about you. Your actions influence people's opinion about you.
• Leader of men: You're a great leader, charismatic and kind, able to bring hundreds of people together as a single force.

Netflix Locke And Key - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1MTWjE8wT4v9PNiZJO1GcCcbYHtJlzDIFCJuD9aDe1WM/edit

• Rocky Road (400 CP): There are some who like to remain broken, some who are forced to remain broken, some who have no idea they are broken and some who are there to fix the broken. Some who are there to give a warm smile and a comforting presence free of judgement, who are patient and kind, who can see the baggage of others and the ways to help not because of manipulation or gain but simply because they wish to help, people who can see the ways of helping others forget their problems and become themselves again, who can heal decade long wounds and mental scars like it’s nothing.
  
• Near Identity Key (400 CP): Not a very good name I admit but when the only thing limiting you from becoming an entirely new person is your face I can’t think of a name quite so close to the truth. I mean what can you call someone who can don an entire persona and throw them away when done, who can craft emotions and subconscious tells, subtle nuances like one would craft with leggo’s, who can change their accent, the depths of their voice, their stride like one would change their clothes. One who can become anyone.
  

The Magicians - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1o28lYPEyTZ4NHgFxAriLTD_5uAv5XgHh/view?usp=sharing [Personal Fav, Mainly For The Pocket World]

• Good Deeds (200 CP)

And who said the nice guy finishes last? By performing good deeds, you can increase your power in direct relation to how much good you did, increasing your pools of internal energy. People will also take much more of a liking to you than they otherwise would have, with you giving off more a good vibe.

• Lovable Character (600 CP)

People just don’t seem very capable at holding a grudge at you, nor do they seem to account for the amount of times you’ve back-stabbed them when hanging out with you or asking for your aid, with things going so well that they can almost treat you like a friend if you interact with them long enough. It’s almost like your popularity among your theoretical audience causes you to become a constant in the story. In addition, once per Jump - or ten years, whichever passes faster - you may return from the dead, appearing the next day in an undisclosed, safe location.
Generic Fantasy Otome Academy - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1QisYlMEsDgAVYJxyQGW21Tk_YEDCCcTm/view?usp=sharing

• Confide in Me (400cp)

I suppose you’re just a good listener. Some people will only open their hearts to family, or to a precious pet... but everyone is willing to speak frankly and honestly to you if they have anything they want to confide. This doesn’t mean they’ll spontaneously admit to crimes, unless they’re guilty and want to let it out, but they will be willing to talk freely and will instinctively believe that you will keep their secrets, even if they know you’ve shared those of others. But if you do prove indiscreet with someone’s private matters, they won’t trust you with them again.

• Not So Helpless Ingenue (400cp)

There’s a very thin line between ‘sweet & innocent’ and ‘hopelessly naive’. You dance blithely back and forth across that line, or at least you do to all outside observers. Somehow, you’re able to maintain your sense of innocent wonder, boundless optimism, and simple joie-de-vivre without sacrificing any of your cunning, wisdom, or practicality. Those who see you but do not know you well will probably assume you’re sweetness and light (if they’re not a cynical individual) or a complete naïf (if they’re of the more pragmatic persuasion), and thus underestimate you, but in truth? You always know when someone is trying to manipulate you or lead you astray.

Hey, figured I'd share my tonsillectomy experience because this sub was a great resource for me leading up and after my surgery.
I had surgery on May 2, after quite a bizarre experience with my tonsils. I've had tonsil stones for as long as I can remember, but as everyone here can attest to, ENTs and doctors don't really treat stones. Also, at about the base of my left tonsil, the tissue had hardened a bit, and I suspected that I had a tonsil stone wedged deep that I could feel. After seeing about four ENTs and two oral surgeons, they all gave me the same recommendation: get those suckers yanked out.
I still wasn't convinced so I asked about getting some imaging done (I'm in the US with good private insurance, so relatively easy to schedule, but still decent $$$). I got an MRI and it didn't show anything nefarious, but interestingly enough the tech noted a "lesion" on my right tonsil, the one that felt perfectly fine. Given this new information my ENT suggested a tonsillectomy because it was really the only option I had left and every other doctor suggested the same.
I scheduled my surgery and soon enough the day came. I've had surgeries before (2x ACL, 1x meniscus over a 30 year soccer 'career') so I knew what to expect. I didn't anticipate being in the surgery center with 6 year olds as I was the only adult getting the procedure that day!!
Day 1: They wheeled me back and knocked me out, and when I woke up I remember being surprised that the pain I was in was probably a 9/10. My second ACL surgery was like an 11/10 when I woke up (interestingly enough my first ACL surgery was like 3/10) so I was initially surprised how uncomfortable I was.
They fed me ice pops and gave me ice water and tried talking to me, but before I knew it, I was on my way home. In the US, if you go to a private surgery facility, they generally wheel you out within 10 mins of waking up.
The rest of the day was pretty brutal as swallowing was uncomfortable, but my mouth kept filling with saliva so I essentially had to keep drinking water and swallowing, which wasn't great. Eating was completely out of the question, but I had stocked up on some ready to drink protein drinks that kept me relatively satiated. I kept to a pretty strict medicinal schedule which helped me sleep a bit.
Day 2: Still uncomfortable but the pain was significantly less, maybe a 5-6/10. I took about 5ml every 4-5 hours of liquid oxycodone and caught up on Vanderpump Rules. I kept a large cooler by my bed stocked with ice from Sonic, Alo Water, protein drinks, a million water bottles and ice packs. I had a couple of ice pops, but honestly, I just didn't have any appetite for ice cream or ice pops or the like. Ice cold water and the Alo Water were great.
Day 3-4: Pain was about a 4/10 and getting better. I kept to the same schedule for medicine, trash TV shows, and water + ready to drink protein. My wife made me some pastina pasta with butter and although it took me 45 mins to eat a couple of spoonfuls, it did a lot for my mind. I also ate one scrambled egg, but it took me a while. I also had my bowel movement! This is very important after surgery!! Please take some stool softener!!!
However, on Day 4 right before bed around midnight, I "spit" (aka let drool fall out of my mouth) and noticed blood in my saliva. My doctor just said to call if you see any bright blood in your saliva and I noticed it more and more, but not a lot of volume. Of course I freaked out and called at 1am, but my understanding is that a little blood is ok and should resolve itself with ice water and ice gargling. It's really only if your mouth is filling with blood rapidly that you should head to the hospital.
Day 5: I woke up out of a decent sleep at 4am not in pain, but seriously uncomfortable, like my throat and mouth were incredibly sore. The painkillers really helped and I felt like I had taken a step back in the recovery. I could start to talk a little bit more, but nothing more than a couple of whispered sentences at a time.
Day 6: Still sore, but I remember feeling like I turned a corner finally.
Day 7: Back to work! I work hybrid so I was home to recover and didn't have any problems concentrating or typing or anything. I had only been taking the painkillers maybe once a day, usually at night.
I'm a little over 2 weeks now and I feel as though I'm completely back to eating normally and speaking normally, though I can't talk too loud or for too long. After living with tonsil stones for so long, my mouth feels a lot cleaner if that makes sense.
No regrets on the surgery. Looking back, spending time in front of a mirror pushing calcified food particles out of crevices in your mouth is a wild way to spend your time. The recovery was tough I'm not gonna lie, but it is relatively short.
I found myself just like drooling saliva out of my mouth over a sink because I didn't want to swallow anymore. Ice cold water makes swallowing way more tolerable so try to always have ice cold water on hand at all times. I drink water like a psychopath so I was super hydrated, to the point where I was peeing every 45 mins the first two days. I couldn't imagine being dehydrated and trying to recover.
If I could do it over again, I would brew more tea with plenty of honey and let it cool down and then drink it cold. Honey is basically a wonder drug but I didn't utilize it enough in the beginning.
I found and downloaded a text to speech app, which was pretty handy. My kids loved it.
Here are some essentials that other people have mentioned here but I'll list them below. Good luck!!
Pillow Wedge for elevated sleep - I actually still use this as I enjoy sleeping a bit elevated now
Alo Water with Honey - I didn't realize there are clear pieces of aloe vera "pulp" in the drink, which was a super weird experience. I wound up straining the pulp out. Also, try to cut this with water, there's an insane amount of sugar in the huge bottles and you don't want any unnecessary discomfort while you're trying to recover.
Warm and Cool Mist Humidifier - I already owned this and I had it running basically 24/7. I still woke up with a dry mouth which is kind of miserable, but I think it would've been worse if I didn't have this.
Fairlife Core Power Protein Drinks - 26 or 42 grams of protein is amazing when you're recovering. They are a bit expensive, so I picked up a case of the Fairlife Nutrition Plan from my local Costco.
Sonic Pebble Ice - Pebble ice is so much better than regular ice from a freezer or if you're freezing a tray. I don't know why. It's so much easier to chew and it's so much more satisfying to put in your water, especially recovering from a tonsillectomy. If you don't leave near a Sonic, try to find pebble ice somewhere!
Miralax, 7 Once Daily Doses - You NEED a stool softener. The opioids will back you up. The worst part of my ACL recovery was that first bowel movement. I didn't stay on top of my stool softener game. You gotta get that first BM out of the way ideally within like 2-3 days.
RTIC 52 QT Cooler - It's not necessary to have a $200 cooler next to your bed, but if you already have a nice one like a Yeti or RTIC, I'd definitely recommend keeping it near where you are recovering.
Tongue Scraper - I didn't brush my teeth for like 3 days and I felt awful about it. I'd recommend at least a tongue scraper to keep up on the hygiene.
Ice Pack Head Wrap - I thought I would use this more, but it came in handy on days 5-6. I didn't need it, but I'm glad it was around.

Whether it’s in person or online, nothing makes me angrier.
For example, I was going through the comments on somebody’s video, she had a “white dot” on her nose, which was highlighter, everybody in her comments was saying “that highlighter looks terrible” or “what is that white dot on your nose?”
The video was about something completely unrelated to her looks or makeup, but reading those comments just angered me, why not message her privately? Do people not realise how insulting/embarrassing and even hurtful this can be?
It’s just so f*cking rude. Stop going out of your way to make people insecure, this doesn’t make you honest, in fact, if nobody asked for your opinion, it’s not honesty at all, it’s straight up bullying.

My name is Dr. Smith, not my real name of course, but for purposes of storytelling it will have to suffice. I have been practicing medicine at an Asian country as a general practitioner. I'm relatively new and I practice at a small village, not too far from civilization, half a day's travel by car and a few hours by boat from the country's capital, but very rural nonetheless, complete with superstitious beliefs and customs. I decided to stay here when I first graduated and passed the licensure exam for two reasons: first, I have a place to stay here, my family's ancestral home (although none of my direct relatives have lived there for years), said ancestors being one of the first people to settle in the area and second, because my family had always been the physicians in this small community as far as anyone remembers. Me, my grandfather and his father before him all went to the city to study medicine and went back here to practice it, like there was a pull, a calling, to sacrifice the convenient, fast-paced city life for the quiet and serene. My mother hated the idea, as clingy as she is to me, saying things like she wanted me to always be around where she could protect me, but you can't really help it when purpose calls. To be honest, it feels good providing a wide range of services to the honest people of our small, humble town, no greater feeling than helping the less privelaged, educating them and dispelling preconceived notions and old wives tales which are aplenty in my country, especially here.
I still recall how everything began. I made a makeshift clinic at one of the rooms of my ancestral home, it used to be my grandfather's office, but it felt old, antique, and perhaps too... professional, nothing wrong with that, but I wanted my patients to feel a more homely setting. So, I rearranged a bit, removed the imposing self portrait of my great-grandfather wearing his white coat that hang on the wall and transferred it to a more private area of the house. I changed the dim, barely functioning lights into brighter, more modern ones, removed the exceedingly extravagant chandelier and equipped the room with materials and equipment that I deemed necessary for my practice. I retained the wooden floors, but outfitted the walls with charts and more colorful decorations, in anticipation for the occasional pediatric patient. It was beginning to look less like an old abandoned house where teenagers went for the spooks and more like a place of healing and betterment, a clean place offering a clean mind...or so I hope.
"Your grandfather would have a heart attack if he wasn't dead already, seeing what you've done with his old clinic" quipped Martha, our housekeeper. All I know about Martha is that my grandfather hired her as a young teen and she has been here since then, she babysat and raised my mother as her own, and even took care of me as a toddler. Considering her age, she mostly supervises the younger and more capable help rather than doing tasks herself. None of them stay at the house, but they get called upon when me or any of my relatives were expected. Most of the family consider her as one of our own at this point.
"Well i'm sure great grandpa on the other hand enjoys the change of view" I replied jokingly. "Besides, I bet the patients would appreciate not being treated in such a dark, gloomy room."
"You know how your grandfather was..." she replies, that the idea of a dark, gloomy, old man liking dark, gloomy, old places was a no brainer. "...but everything aside, it is so nice to see you again, have you been feeling better? What did your mother think of you staying here?" she said with what I felt as outmost sincerity, "I used to chase and carry you around this estate and now look at you, about to carry out your family's legacy as a physician yourself" she continued, with a hint of pride from her tone.
I smiled. I myself couldn't think of a reason why a well respected man, revered even, by this town and it's people for everything he has done would act nonchalant and depressed, always with a jaded look in his eyes and stay in an equally dim and depressing part of his house, I've always known him to be like that, but was he always?
"I am better now. It's good to see you too, I'm glad you're staying healthy, and mom sure did not like it but well...she told me to say hi on her behalf" I told Martha. She beams up and smiles on my mother's mention.
"Well...I took the liberty of digging up your grandfather's documents, records and his patient charts, I doubt many of them still live but I thought maybe you'd like to have a look, I placed them around your desk but I can relocate them if you want me to"
"No, that's perfect. That's something I actually intended to do, i'll give it a read, thank you" I replied. I know some of those patients were either old or probably dead to be honest, but seeing data as well as the cases my grandfather had to deal with might help me in the future.
"The villagers already know Dr. Smith's grandson is here, they know you're a doctor, so expect to have a patient one of these days, perhaps as soon as you give the word that your clinic is open" Martha said, as she walks out of the room smiling and slightly waving, signalling a goodbye.
"I'm not even surprised" I think to myself. Places like these, words spreads like wildfire on topics like these, the idea of someone from a known family, coming back from the city, not to mention deciding to stay indefinitely, like the whole village needed notification, like the village demands explanation.
Hours passed and as I was satisfied with my new setup for the clinic, I took a break, sitting down and looking at the mountain of paperwork and folders placed on and around my desk. I picked one, thinking to myself that I might as well have a look now, with nothing else of note to do.
Patient #010438 Name redacted 43/Female
History of present illness: Patient had 3 day history of undocumented fever, dysuria, and bilateral flank pain Did not seek consult, no medications taken
Past Medical History Unremarkable
Personal and Social History Unremarkable
OB history illegible
Physical Examination BP 110/80 HR 102 RR 20
Nonhyperemic tonsils No murmurs Clear breath sounds Nontender abdomen (+) Kidney punch test
Noted a signature of the patient claiming she was not pregnant as a form of waiver
"Jesus grandpa, couldn't your history and physical exam get any lazier?" I thought to myself. Seeing pertinent history not asked and multiple organ systems ignored on physical examination. Given, some of the writing were already faded, the quality of the paper had deteriorated greatly, and plenty of details already illegible, all in all the documents weren't that bad. It sure doesn't help though that he writes like someone in the middle of a warzone practicing heiroglyphs.
I skimmed through more of the documents and patient files, most of the cases are relatively benign, majority are outpatient visits, some are emergency cases and there are the rare ones requiring transfer to a more developed town hours from here with better services and equipment. Time passed and as I lay down the last folder in a pile, I noticed a moderately sized box, probably the size of a briefcase, placed on the floor, dusty but obviously ornate. It piqued my interest although in my mind, I was pretty sure it was nothing but more documents, I decided to give it a look.
I picked a stack up and I started to read:
Patient #00512c Name redacted 32/Female
"Weird" I thought, it was numbered differently, and definitely none of the other documents were lettered. I continued reading:
History of present illness: This is a case of a 32 year old female who came in on date redacted due to a chief complaint of multiple hematomas, abrasions, burn wounds and lacerations on her face, trunk and extremeties..."
"Trauma? An accident? Possible abuse?" I contemplated.
"...patient allegedly noticed easy bruisability 2 weeks prior to consult, followed by alleged spontaneous appearance of abrasions and lacerations 2-3 days from onset of bruising, supposedly waking the patient at night due to the sudden sharp and searing pain, initially small cuts 3-5cm widest on her extremeties and face but eventually progressing to deep cuts measuring approximately 10-50cm on her back, chest, abdomen and lower extremeties. 1 week prior to consult, patient started noticing burning sensations on her skin, causing extreme pain and leaving reddish burn marks on her body, patient also experienced lack of appetite and inability to sleep due to loud voices and..."
"Spontaneous appearance? Easy bruising could be a lot of things, but for it to occur with 'spontaneous' abrasions and lacerations? Not to mention burn marks?" I thought out loud, having doubts about the credibility of the use of the word "spontaneous". Surely it was not an accident, considering it started 2 weeks ago with noted progression. "It could be a hematologic problem with the bruising, but that wouldn't explain the sudden appearance of cuts...maybe accompanied by a dermatologic one, the patient is prone to breaks in the skin? But then again the burn marks...the voices..." I analyzed. I was leaning towards abuse, where the cuts and bruises were inflicted by someone else and the abused, whether in some form of fear or coping, decides that it was "spontaneous" rather than inflicted, but why bother lying to yourself, perhaps the one who did it to her is a partner? Or a loved one? It made sense, someone progressively becoming more aggressive with her as time went by, becoming more and more extreme, from bruises to eventually burning.
It could a combination of illnesses to be honest, one on top of another, perhaps an overly sensitive or extremely dry skin that breaks and peels until it bleeds, an allergic reaction prompting the patient to unconciously scratch till her skin became red and lichenified, voices due to lack of sleep or a mental disorder. But looking at my grandfather's physical examination of her, none of the findings solidifies the possibility of those i've mentioned. Truth be told I also partially allowed myself to tunnel vision on the prospect of an abuse, to the point I've skipped some of the chart's contents that I deemed weren't important and tried to look for information to support my claim, or perhaps to disprove it, rookie mistake, but well, I am a rookie then.
"Patient is widowed, lives alone at a secluded area near redacted, only goes out to buy some necessities from redacted but has very minimal interaction from anyone in the village"
Okay then, either she is hiding the fact someone was with her, who is abusing her like I initially thought of, or it's self harm. "I'm pretty sure grandpa considered everything that went through my mind right now. Let me check his initial impression" I thought, with a tinge of annoyance, considering I felt that the patient lied to my grandfather, and was lying to me, decades after the fact.

1 Trauma, to consider physical abuse versus self harm;

"Alright, now we're getting somewhere" I said to myself, with a bit of pride having the same thought process as a physician with decades more experience than I do.

2 To consider mental disorder, probably psychotic - premature dementia

I chuckled. Premature dementia, didn't think i'd see that term, I thought everyone including those from his time would have used schizophrenia already, then again medicine and medical knowledge isn't as easily passed around as it is now. Psychiatry as a science would be relatively new during his time compared to other disciplines so the fact he considered it based on the patient hearing "voices"? Bravo gramps.
"Well...", I thought to myself, "...plenty of things to consider and rule out, let me check what else is there." A bit of cockiness on picking my grandfather's brain out and feeling good about my train of thought, a practice consult and so far, I'm on my way to a perfect score...

3. To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

.................
I gave the document a stern look, unmoving, unblinking, emotionless. Time has stopped, and I haven't noticed. My brain trying to digest the information, the same way my stomach would probably digest a block of steel...it's just not possible. I read one of my grandfather's diagnosis again:

3 To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

I never been one for faith. Evidence is everything. Science is everything. You can replicate it, you can prove it. Most importantly...It. Makes. Sense. I look at beliefs not based on evidence and feel nothing but skepticism if not disdain. Why won't people listen to expert opinion? Why won't people believe in facts? Why explain the unknown in such convoluted ways, requiring submission of oneself when the only thing the truth requires is but comprehension. I looked at that diagnosis feeling disappointment.
Then I felt anger. "Grandpa, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" I thought to myself. Here is a woman, full of bruises, cuts and burns all over her body, claiming that she has been suffering for weeks, barely eats or sleeps, was having auditory hallucinations, in dire need of medical, if not emotional and psychological support and one of the things that comes across your mind is possession.
I tried to calm my mind, these are records of the past anyway, I thought. Maybe it was a resignation born out of incompetence. Maybe grandpa wasn't as good of a doctor as I thought he was, that the shortcomings of his knowledge and limited technology of his time prompted him to adopt a more...liberal viewpoint to medicine. Maybe he was just superstitious himself. Maybe the people of this place had leaked some of their local beliefs into his psyche. Maybe isolation changed the man. Or maybe...just maybe...there's something to it.
I've never been one for faith. That goes for my faith in science as well. To just say that something is stupid because it doesn't align with standard, accepted scientific belief is just as detrimental as its counterpart.
I decided to investigate further when I heard the entrance to the room open with force. One of the maids leaning onto the wall by the entrance, still grasping the doorknob and evidently out of breath.
"Sir...ma'am Martha...calling...for you...says...it's...it's...an emergency..." She says in between breaths.
I quickly stood up, feeling sorry for the woman, she just ran, obviously gasping for air as she arrived at the clinic and now has to lead me back to wherever she came from with the same urgency. At first I was worried something might have happened with Martha, what the maid said didn't really give much clarity, but upon arriving at the main hall I noticed Martha, standing beside a middle aged man and woman, carrying a child, no more than 10 years old. I notice the clear panic and worry on both of their eyes as the man held the boy, who was uncontrollably shaking.
"I know you're not taking any patients yet and I was considering the time, but nobody knows what to do so I..." Martha explains, quite concerned while I ordered the parents to put the child flat on the ground, with me assessing the situation. The first thing I noticed was that the child was burning hot, "possibly febrile seizure? No, too old" I thought. I asked both the parents important details while I ordered the other maid to time the duration of the child's seizure. All the while thinking of possible diseases that may present as such, "Seizure disorder? Epilepsy? Meningitis? Encephalitis?" Eventually the shaking stopped, much to the parents' relief, and I ordered them to carry the boy as we made our way back to the clinic.
"Was this the first time it ever happened?" I inquired, as I put the child on one of the beds in the clinic, securing the corners with additional pillows, noticing the sunken face and apparent exhaustion from the boy, possibly due to the ongoing fever and the recent seizure episode. Once secured, I face the parents and continued my inquiries, I eventually explained everything, elaborating on what I believe happened, I explained that for now, lowering the fever and investigating the source were what we could address, the battery of tests I plan to do (disappointingly, most of them cannot be done here, and I would have to accompany them to a hospital on another town as soon as first light breaks), and the medications and management I plan to give. Everything proceeded as planned and I asked both parents to relax and take a breather, offering them a seat and asking the help to give them water.
Things eventually settled, little Johnny's fever subsided and color came back to him. Nowhere near clear, he can worsen anytime, but that was the best that we could do at that time. The parents were still worried, understandably so, but to an extent reassured, we have a plan after all. Martha, as well as Diane (the help from earlier), now at a calmer state. We discussed the plan, how we would travel, who would accompany us and what we would bring. Eventually, our conversations became relaxed, started to shift to other things, trivial matters, such as were they lived in the village, the date and time of my arrival, recent gossip, where Martha was more than happy to share.
"I was worried the evil spirits might have gotten my baby..." Said the mother nonchalantly, as we talked about the occurrence on a lighter note. "...that's how they got Mrs. Johnson's middle child. That poor boy was never the same after."
I smiled. Not wanting to immediately correct them and sound like an uptight individual. It's part of our culture afterall, old belief systems and a way for people to cope with loss or difficulty, who was I to deny them that. I won't approach these people the hardheaded way, but I will slowly show them the realities and truths of the things they may not understand, well, at least with regards to their health.
"Well, little Johnny is safe here, we'll do what we can" pointing to their son.
Only, their son wasn't where he was supposed to be. I look at the parents, I look at both Martha and Diane, everyone who looked at where I pointed were just as shocked as I was, a split second of silence before panic ensued. Suddenly, everyone stood up on high alert and was looking everywhere. Under covers, under the bed, corners of the room, the desk, behind curtains, hell, I saw Diane look at one of the damn drawers, as if a 10 year old would fit there.
Suddenly I heard loud vomiting, retching, followed by sounds of splashing. I follow where the sounds came from and see a large pool of black, tarry liquid at a corner of my room. I slowly trace where it was coming from and there he was...little Johnny...standing...upside down...on the ceiling.
I hear everyone in the room scream, I was probably screaming too, I couldn't remember. I do remember little Johnny screaming with us though, extremely high pitched and mockingly, with bloodshot eyes, upside down, while black liquid poured from his mouth, covering his face and dripping from his hair. How was that even possible, screaming while liters of unknown fluid dripped from his mouth? I don't know.
Then he laughed, although I was pretty sure that wasn't his voice. It was deep and guttural, it cannot be the boy's voice, it cannot be any boy's voice.
Time seemed to move in slow motion, I was noticing every detail, every expression from everyone's face, I can feel the seconds hand on my wall clock move, the slow dripping of the viscous dark liquid from little Johnny, I can feel every drop of sweat on my body. I could not cope with what i'm experiencing, was it a trick of the mind, an organized prank, have I gone mad...again? So I did the only thing I know how to do...
I tried to diagnose.
"Maybe it was dengue shock all along!" I thought to myself. "Vomiting blood, paleness, fever, an episode of seizure and definitely change in sensorium" I reasoned to myself. I was coping, and I was coping hard. I was ready to drown on my self absorbtion when a booming voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
"YOU DUMB FUCK, WILL ANY ILLNESS EXPLAIN WHY YOUR FUCKING PATIENT IS HANGING UPSIDE DOWN ON THE FUCKING CEILING?" Said little Johnny, or at least whoever was speaking on his behalf, because from where I'm standing, I can clearly see that the boy was not mouthing any of the words he said.
"YOU'RE A FUCKING FAILURE, DOCTORS LIKE YOU SHOULD KILL THEMSELVES! HAHAHAHA" he laughed, I never knew laughs could sound like that, as if the words were nails, and his voice box a chalkboard.
"OH WAIT, YOU FAILED AT THAT TOO DOC! FUCKING PATHETIC!"
Of all the things that were happening...a young boy hanging upside down, a mother crying on the floor hysterically, a father staring at his son, eyes wide open and mouth agape, Martha and Diane, both crying while sharing a rosary, in the act of what I assume to be prayer...the thing that snapped me out of my trance was the words that came from little Johnny. Knowledge nobody but the closest to me should know. A secret I planned to leave behind when I left the city, a wound I intended to forget as I started anew.
Visions of my memories came flashing back...medical school...overwhelming duty...familial expectations...failure...depression...my attempt...a bottle of medications...my mother...crying...on my bedside...
"LEAVE MY SON ALONE!" Johnny's father screamed. Starling everyone in the room.
Nothing matters, the past is in the past, I am better now, and that boy needs help, more than anything.
"YOUR SON? WHY DON'T WE ASK THAT CRYING WHORE IF JOHNNY REALLY IS YOUR SON" The voice says, laughing.
At that point the mother stops crying, looks up towards johnny, then towards his husband, in a state of shock. Like what the voice said is crazier than whatever was happening at the moment.
"THE ONLY REASON THAT WHORE STUCK WITH YOU WAS BECAUSE JOHNNY'S REAAAAAAAL FATHER WOULD NOT TAKE HER!" The entity says, continuing the hysteric laughter.
We were being played. It was toying with us. And from the look on the mother's face...it seems like little Johnny did not even need to lie to do it.
Then, to everyone's horror..."It" started to run.
It ran across the ceiling in a rabid frenzy, erratic and forceful, running and jumping, hopping sideways then going on all fours, still attached to the ceiling, splashing bile and blood all over the room, all the while making a "hihihi" sound...childish and terrifying. It ran and ran, repeating the same erratic change in movements, repeating the same eerie giggle until it reached the window, stopping and standing straight, it stared outside for what felt like forever...then all of a sudden...johnny just fell, like whatever was attaching him to the ceiling just gave, headfirst into the floor, giving a very audible cracking sound.
I heard a gasp from johnny's mother. I can at least detect some miniscule chest expansion, but that cracking sound cannot be anything good. As if thinking the same thing, Martha, who was the nearest to where Johnny fell, while still clinging tightly to Diane's rosary, approached the boy.
"Johnny?" She said softly, all the while approaching an inch at a time.
As she was almost at arms length of the boy's body, she gives the mother a knowing look, confirming that he was breathing. Martha suddenly produces a piece of cloth from one of the pockets of her uniform, possibly to pack the bleeding from the head. She intended to put the cloth on top of the boy's head, but looked towards my direction, urging me forward, perhaps for me to place it properly. I walk towards the boy, takes the cloth from Martha and as I fold the cloth to circle Johnny's cranium with Martha's help, the boy immediately sat up, looks at Martha and smiles ear to ear...literally ear to ear.
"GET YOUR WRINKLY HANDS OFF ME YOU DUSTY OLD FUCK!" He barks at her, Martha screams in fear and I was taken aback.
That was all the time Johnny needed to stand and jump towards the window, breaking it and running towards the mountainside. I hear his father scream his name, quickly breaking more glass so he could fit, and immediately giving chase. The mother was still on the floor, wailing towards the direction of her child and husband. Martha, in shock, still holding the cloth she intended to wrap johnny with.
It took me a while to notice Diane shaking me vigorously. "Doctor!" She screams. "Doctor Smith! What should we do!?" She voices out, with obvious desperation.
I ignored her.
I feel scared, but taking all into consideration, I predominantly feel tired. Defeated. Insulted.
I have nothing more to give in the face of whatever that thing that took Johnny was.
I slowly walk towards my desk, I open my drawer, I take a piece of paper and I pull out my pen.
Patient #00001a Name redacted 10/M
I write, giving no thoughts to the people on the same room as me, those left behind by little Johnny and his father. "Did he catch up to him? Was the boy alright now?...is his father alright?" I wonder. I'll find out soon enough, I figured, rumors spread like wildfire around here anyways.
I continued to write with resignment, absorbed in my own little world, consumed by the horror I witnessed, the breaking of my spirit, of my beliefs, the questioning of my knowledge. I want to escape it, deny it, but that's not what should be done to the truth. So I surrendered.

1 To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

END

Two months have passed since I accepted my bisexuality. I have kinda known it for I had some same sex crushes over the years, although I always denied it until that one drinking game with kind and accepting queer friends. Everything is kinda new tho, also the bi cycle hits really hard. But I'm genuinely happy and I love myself for the first time in my life. :) I think about my previous 'straight' life sometimes. Like the fact that I remember that I had those crushes that I wouldn't have called crushes until my coming out to friends, and about how I would always be ashamed when anybody was talking about the gay community in a slightly negative manner.
Well, that life wasn't straight at all... the thing is, on top of feeling shame about my hidden sexual orientation, I had a single "fetish"? (I don't want to offend anybody, I just don't know if that's the proper word or not for what I have/am) That was crossdressing. I did it since I was 14 or so, and I even fantasized about it sooner (like 11-12). It turned me on sexually. I revisited it... still turns me on sexually. I think what the hell, I can't be trans, I wouldn't like to be trans :( at least not in Hungary. Even bisexuality is a pain in the ass here. And there's no kind of hormone therapy or else that would turn me into a beatiful woman since I'm a hairy, dad bodied guy flooded with testosterone.
The previous line of thought also suggests there's a chance I might be because I was like that (no way I can be queer) until I accepted I'm bi. However, I theorize that it all was a way to live out my bisexuality. Now I think it's a way to live out my submissiveness for men. And how I look when dressed as a woman doesn't matter, only the feeling, like satin, skirts, dresses and how the bra holds my man boobs, it feels really sexy. On the other side of things, if there was a magical pill that would turn me a hot biological woman for a certain period of time then I know I'd spend all my weekends as a woman. However, I could never say goodbye to my penis or beard forever😂 I could to my body hair, I would dig a laser therapy and I also would shave. Plus I know I would be happy as a woman too but I'm perfectly happy as a man who occasionally likes to try on bras, panties and dresses for fun.
For the coming out part: You know, hungarians in their fifties (like my parents) are usually homophobic as hell. Mine are only mildly homophobic. That means, they belong to the 'middle class' of people who say things against gay parent rights and pity Freddie Mercury about his unfortunate death. However, I'd take my chances because for years - dorm life in high school and uni's first year - I have been quite distant from them. I feel like I'm a double agent and I've had enough. I want a real, supportive mother and father from whom I could take advice in life's most private matters as well. I want what I feel I almost never had. I also want them to be a friend of mine. I won't tell my mother, she's too damn obstinate and seems to think what she says or does is always right. My father is a really good man I look up to: kind, always correct with people and always supportive of me. Now I'm at home but tomorrow I'll leave for uni (like 300 km) for nearly a month. I plan on telling that I'm bi, right before I leave, only to him. Tbh I fear he won't take it well and I just know he needs some time to digest all I will say. But now I don't need to tell him, I mean I don't yet have a boyfriend. But it will be easier if I do now, so it won't be so shocking then, IF I am by chance I settle for a guy. The only thing that bothers me is I don't feel that I can fully be myself at home and with them.
The bottom line:
So I'd like to seek out your advice. With all I've said, am I just a bi guy with a crossdressing fetish/femboy/egg?
Should I tell my father I'm bi and if yes, how shall I start? I get that he can only accept but not understand and this is sometimes even harder for fathers.
I'm sorry for the tangled up pieces of thoughts I have scraped on a sleepless night at four a.m. And for the long text as well. I'd really appreciate if you read it and helped. Plus, I don't know whether I should use the NSFW tag or not. For now (until you say otherwise) I'll keep it off because this way I might be able to reach out to more people.
Edit: Satirically, pardon me for my poor usage of the english language.😂 I feel that I must, like I'm too queer not to✌️🏳️‍🌈 (don't know which flag I should also use rn)

Hurricane Georg.
Our first contact with the new world was a colossal hurricane. Veins of lightning shattered through the black, swirling clouds. I had just tried to calm the nerves of the ship when I saw Suri sitting in the hall beneath the control room.
She was in a lounge corner with her suitcase opened and her supplies scattered across the small table. The little light from the window illuminated her drawing for me to see over her shoulder.
The black and white sketch began at the bow of the ship. The figure of a man in facing the open ocean. Ahead of him, the familiar despair of Hurricane Georg. The man had his back towards the artist, but his stature sailed through the fierce storm without worry. His gaze only in the beautiful sight of home on the other side.
Her pencil began to etch the details of his crewmans jacket, "You have a gift, Suri. Truly, you do."
She was ahead of me, she did not jump or gasp as I had expected, "Thank you, Capi. I saw you in the reflection. Im hard to get the jump on."
"Then this shouldnt surprise you," I smiled and approached her table. "My capi stars are on the right side, "I stepped back and tapped my shoulder."
Disappointment inked her face, darkening her mood, "Dam."
I laughed and pulled up a chair. She had captured the view from the window perfectly and I made a point to tell her. As we talked the storm outside began to fade. The world around us was healed and the worries of yesterday had never existed.
Her eyes were near black, in color, and her skin was incredibly warm. Physical characteristic were useless to determine where a person was from, but 500 years ago, she would have fit at home with the people of the Middle East. Had I been a different man, her beauty and brain would make a perfect partner.
The longer I stared, the darker the world around us became. Until she broke my gaze and looked shocked at something through the window.
"Did you see that?"
"No, what was it?"
"I-Im not sure..." her face drained of color as the harsh rocking of the storm was interrupted by something else. Suri and I were flung off our chairs onto the floor, her supplies pelting us as they flew through the air. I tried to stand, but my legs were too soft to make it easy.
I struggled to a kneel using the bolted-down desk. Suri gasped and I looked down. The longer I looked, the itchier it became. Once more the world grew darker and I only had enough energy for a simple joke.
"Mr. Morgs was right about those things."
"Gud morning, Capi!" Ennay cheered from the wall-mounted screen.
I struggled to sit myself up. I was in the infirmary, only Ennay was there to greet me. My jacket was gone. All I had on was a white t-shirt and grey shorts.
"Officer Angelhart had your attire taken to be cleaned," Ennay chimed in, "Today is Wednesday, sir, 4:13am. Its the morning after you lost consciousness."
I thanked him and asked him to catch me up on the happenings in the passed half day.
"The reality is unclear, Capi, but Helmsman Archer believes we were attacked by a... a sea monster, sir."
"Archer? Hes no storyteller. Why?" I swung my legs over the bed, "get him down here or tell him im on my way."
Ennay surprised me with his fast response, "No. Sir, We had a breach. Ms. Aziz told the Doctor you had severed and artery during a spell of turbulence. The New Horizon had actually made contact with something what breached the hull. Damage Control responded in 4 minutes and were quick to contain flooding. However, we sustained a second breach."
Before he could continue, I dropped back onto the bed, "Whats the status?"
"On the New Horizon? Operational. A few sections had to be permanently sealed until we are out of this storm."
"And Damage Control?"
Ennay did not respond as quickly as he had been. It felt like an eternity before he told me, "6 casualties," the room fell completely silent. I couldnt even hear my heart beating, "5 fatalities. Sergant Franccigo Blanco is recovering in Infirmary 4C. He is unconscious, but has sustained gruesome wounds. Officer Angelhart declared a S.O.E. to assume your position. Otherwise,..."
"Yes, yes, the prosthetics. I hate that system."
"Well, sir, you are able to disable it."
"What?"
"Its not a very common scenario, but since we are not in International Sea, the law requiring your presence does not necessarily need to be enforced."
I sat back and thought for a second, "Ill discuss it with Dr. Mally. Where are they all?"
"Dr. Mally is in Infirmary 4C with Sergant Blanco. Officer Angelhart is your office filling out an incident report for both your accident and the breaches."
"Thank you, Ennay. Tell Max I am on my way and then let Dr. Mally know I will meet her shortly."
"Of course, sir."
My office was silent except for the fan gently spinning from the ceiling. Across from me was a young man, mid-twenties, with dusty blond hair. His uniform was perfect, he has even removed his hat on the perfect beat upon entering the room.
The appearance and demeanor any ship captain would be beyond proud to accept on his ship. It had just been dumb luck that he had lost both of his eyes to shrapnel sealing off the lower corridors during the state of emergency yesterday.
I poured Mr. Blanco a drink, 2444 Geoff Russel - The Hearty Mans Drink. I needed to finish the incident report, but Id never ask a man to relive what he had without a bit of buzz to his bite.
"So, Sargent Blanco, I-"
"You can call me, Fran, Capi."
"And you can call me Santago, for tonight anyway," I continued my questions. I tried my best to stay shallow and not dive deep into the pain Fran had endures just hours ago.
We talked about the 5 fatalities.
"Did you... see... them die?"
The gauze replacing his eyes stared at me, blankly. His face was uncanny, unhuman. Like the man inside may actually have been a 6th dead body.
"No," he quickly took a drink, "I did hear them, though. They yelled and screamed for me to open the door. I- I couldnt see. I thought the sea water had poisoned me somehow. I kept rubbing and rubbing my eyes hoping to get whatever radioactive stuff out of my head..." He took a breath. He was remarkably calm. Agitated, of course. But calm.
He continued, "I looked through the window on the bulkhead and the last thing I saw was Aleks staring back at me. His eyes were... he was calling out for me, I am sure of it. But something got him and he was sucked out."
"I am so sorry, Fran," I tried to write as quietly as possible to not remind him of the formality, "Do you know what got him?"
He finished his glass. As he set it down, he missed the table. The cup did not shatter, but it had jolted Fran from his memory. He lost his composure.
He started yelling at me about a horrific beast he had seen. How Aleks, Private Aleksander Igorsen, had been encased in blood and black sludge. He swung his hands wildly at the table in a rage, but had only managed to knock over a lamp.
Pity does not begin to describe what I felt watching him. Like a bleeding animal continuing to run from the wolves despite not knowing he was already surrounded. In him, I saw death. I saw anger. I saw fear. I saw what he was feeling imaging the creature that killed his men.
I grappled with him, trying to make my location known and always talking to him. I was not some monster from the unknown blackness set on hunting him and he needed to know that. He continued to struggle until I had completely engulfed his whirlwind into a hug. The screams turned to cries and then to whimpers.
After some time, I dismissed him back to his room and instructed Ennay that he was on suicide watch. Sergant Franccigo Blanco had earned a promotion or a permanent dismissal, whichever he wanted, but I needed him to take time to himself before I reminded him where we are.
The storm was intense, but at least it was consistent. By Katzs reckoning, we are approaching the halfway point of this hurricane. We had entered it 51 hours ago and Katz had said we are another 50 away from clear skies.
Unfortunately for all of us, Katzs theory was not seen through.
It began with our solar panelling being severed from their operating power banks. That was not a major issue, hydropower was our primary source. The issue arose when the New Horizon began to spin.
I had radioed the Helmsman demanding why we are weighing anchor, but the anchor was still resting above water. He said no one dropped the anchor. Something else entirely had us. We rushed to every window, every pane of glass to search for whatever it was that was stopping us.
Ennay spoke out, "Capi, Major Gorlammi has spotted our snag at 129 degrees. Nearest viewpoint is Residential Room L3D, assigned to L-"
I ignored the rest, I needed to see what was in that window. Luckily for me, Lucy Partridge was not home. I burst through the door and, for the first time, I saw a behemoth of a serpent-like creature sticking out of the water. I could not see a head, nor tail. I also had no idea if what I saw was the body or an appendage connected to some inconceivably large beast.
After enough time, I manage to figure out one of the ships heavy guns had pierced the creature and was holding us together. Our best bet was to either rotate the gun and hope its dislodged or to remove the gun entirely.
I relayed this information to Ennay to alerted the Gunner Teams and Damage Control. Yet, none of them would be given the chance. In the distance, silhouetted by sparks of lightning the size of the ship, I saw the head of the creature. It must have been miles away, but the size was unparalleled. Its head leaped from the water and swiveled back towards us. It was like a colossal eel. Flashes of light showed through its skin like veins until it sent a surge into the gun and into the ship.
The lights went out across the boat. The only light was the occasional flash from outside. It was completely dark, but I knew it was still coming for us.
I ran out of the quarters as emergency lights slowly burned. The hallway must have been 100 feet long before Id reach the staircase, but when I was halfway through, my feet left the ground.
I felt weightless for a moment. The lights burned out and all around me was darkness. My heart was incredibly slow or maybe time had slowed. I felt the doorframe to Mrs. Partridges room snap against my elbow. There was no pain. I didnt even feel pain when glass cut across my back as I was hurled through the shattered window.
I crashed into the water, it must have been hundreds of feet below me. I was in shock. I looked around and all I saw was darkness. Then, suddenly, all I saw was light. The eel sent a pulse through its body and for the first time I saw the monster entirely. It surrounded the ship above water, coiled all about the waves, and entangled the entire ocean as deep as I could see.
This is not a colossal eel surviving a hurricane.
This colossal eel is the very being causing the hurricane.
A cosmic terror named Hurricane Georg.

I was looking at different sites to buy kpop merch (lightsticks and albums) and I stumbled upon Kpopmart. Does Kpopmart sell official merch? And also how long does it usually take for the shipment to arrive?
Thank you for your help! 🤗💜

I grew up in rockville myself, went to public schools -barnsey elementary, earl b wood ms, and RMHS. Had a great time and great education back then.. and have since moved to gaithersburg without paying enough attention to the school districts.
I've found out where I live is one of the worst districts in the area, and observing the kids running around my neighborhood has confirmed that.. mostly with their horrible foul mouths. With that in mind, my wife (who works in mcps) and I decided to pay for private schooling. My wife is catholic, and we knew others at Saint Martin's, and the cost is cheaper than other private schools.. so it was an easy choice.
Now that our child is growing older and has many interests that SMS doesn't offer, and seeing how the teachers will be for the next few grades, we are looking into where else to go.
We are afraid of public schools in the area because our kid kind of lacks self confidence and we fear will be easily influenced by the bad eggs. Also, the school we are enrolled in doesn't have as high a standard for education as we initially thought.
So, TLDR, are there any catholic schools in moco (rockville, gaithersburg area) that have a higher standard of education than MCPS for grades 1-8? My kid is very smart and we feel is being held back by classmates/teachers.. and we don't want the bad influence of kids in our area for public schooling (watkins mill)

I made a post a few weeks ago about Eddie. Three years ago, I befriended “Eddie” on vacation. I liked him, and he liked me. He confided in the wrong people about his crush on me, and I found out. However, Eddie actually had a girlfriend, and cut contact with me. He was friends with mostly everyone else on social media except me. I never really got any closure or resolution around this situation. Eddie and I never spoke after the trip. So for years, I’ve always wondered about how he really felt about me.
Eddie and his girlfriend broke up two months later, but he never tried contacting me. I kind of suspected that he looked at my TikTok videos, but I also know that for months after, he wasn’t over his ex. This situation happened during the height of the pandemic, so while I knew it would be best to move on, I couldn’t. If this situation happened at any other time, I likely would’ve forgotten Eddie within a couple of weeks or months. But classes were online. I couldn’t meet anyone. For a good year, I had feelings for Eddie, but again, nothing ever came of it.
This past summer, I was heartbroken over another failed crush. I was just going through a lot in general, and I spent most of my days high on drugs. I posted TikTok videos about heartbreak and depression. Sometimes I’d post five TikToks in a night. Sometimes, I’d reupload these videos. I don’t know why. I guess I was bored. And while I still wondered about Eddie, I didn’t think he ever looked my social media.
Little did I know, Eddie saw me posting these videos online, and contacted our friends. He asked them to see if I was posting anything else on my Instagram, which is private. Nothing’s happened since then, but I’m wondering why Eddie cares. I don’t think Eddie is this evil sociopath or anything, but it’s not like he showed me any care or consideration back then when he actually hurt me. So why? Is this some misguided way of absolving himself of guilt?

I (36f) have been seeing T (42m) for a few months. T is very private and hasn’t told his family much about me aside from his kids and friends/coworkers. Since our relationship is pretty new, this hasn’t bothered me, except for one reason in particular. One of T’s sisters is trying to set him up with her friend, J. The sister has brought J to dinner twice and to T’s house once. Each time this happens, he acts annoyed because his sister doesn’t tell him J will be there until the last minute. I tell him it’s fine and to just tell them he’s talking to me and they’ll get the hint. Every time I say that, he goes silent. This is typically over text, so he just doesn’t respond, or moves on to something else.
The third time they hung out was on Friday. He was meeting his sister for pizza with his two sons and two nephews from a different sister. Before he left, he sent a text saying “Great after I said I’d go my sister said Jolene will be there.” I said “That’s ok, just tell them about me lol.” No response. He has his nephews this weekend, so he has been leaving me on read way more than usual. It was taking 2 hours between responses, minimum. We had plans to game Saturday, but after he wasn’t responding, I assumed it wasn’t going to happen. He said we could the next day, which is today. I tried setting up a time, but after 8 hours of me texting and him not responding for a couple of hours, I gave up and decided to wait for him to pick a time. He never did.
He was a little more responsive today and ended up telling me that his sister is pushing the thing with J pretty hard, to the point of giving out his number. J started texting him on Friday. They want him to play a game with him tonight. I asked if he’s going to and he said he didn’t have plans to because he was busy with his nephews. I asked if he planned to in the future. Like, if he plans on talking to and hanging out with her. He said he isn’t hanging out with her and that she doesn’t seem invasive and was chill when they spoke. I asked if he plans on texting her still and he said “she doesn’t seem to text that much, so no, I don’t plan on it.” Admittedly, that seems like a weird reason to give me for not texting her. And being busy with the nephews being the reason for not gaming with her…on the day he promised to game with me.
I’m not comfortable with this AT ALL. Knowing she is romantically pursuing him, it makes the whole thing feel wildly inappropriate to me. He says he’s not interested and I mostly believe him, but I’m honestly surprised that he doesn’t see how fishy that looks from my side. This woman doesn’t even know I exist.
AIO??

Hey everyone,
I just landed an interview for the Houston SPCA Summer Job Program, and I really want this opportunity. The program offers hands-on veterinary experience and involves working in areas like animal rescue, community outreach, and various types of animal care.
Here’s some background on me: - I’ve shadowed a vet during a previous summer, mostly observing without much hands-on training. - I’ve volunteered at Houston Pets Alive, an animal shelter, where I helped with medicines and prescriptions but didn’t do any vet-specific tasks. - I’m a current txst sophomore majoring in wildlife biology. ( I want to be a wildlife veterinarian )
I’m super eager to learn and want to make the best impression during my interview. Any advice on how to prepare, what to highlight about my experience, or specific things I should study up on would be greatly appreciated!
Here’s the job description if that’s of any help:
“ Since 1924, Houston Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals has been the leading private, nonprofit animal welfare organization in the greater Houston region. Receiving no governmental funding, we rely upon community financial support to achieve our goals of improving and protecting the lives of animals in our community and alleviating their suffering and abuse. Join our Summer Job Program for students who are looking to gain essential hands-on veterinary experience while making a difference in the lives of animals and people within our community. Applicants are required to be currently enrolled in a natural science, veterinary, pre-veterinary, or veterinary nursing/technical program. This is a 10 to 13-week program, lasting from June through August. Some flexibility may be offered to accommodate semester start and end times. Our program allows students to gain hands-on experience building essential technical skills that align with their interests, which may include the following: • Veterinarian (Safe Animal Handling, Physical Exams, Blood Draws, Surgical Prep, Anesthesia Monitoring, Laboratory Skills, etc.) • Community Outreach • Equine and Farm Animal Care • Wildlife Care • Nursery and Adoptions Center • Animal Rescue Exposure • Pet Wellness Clinic Participants will also gain exposure to a variety of clinical and shelter medicine topics, such as: • Infectious Disease Control • Neonatal Animal Care • Surgery • Animal Behavior Each student will receive mentorship and guidance to develop goals and monitor professional development throughout the summer. “
Thanks in advance for your help!

[ First / Previous ]
Memory Transcription Subject: Hileen, Krakotl Fugitive Recovery Agent
Date [standardized human time]: November 28th, 2136
It'd been a while since I sat in Marlig's office for a talk face-to-face. Given the agency's secluded location at the edge of the downtown region, it was a chore to drop by when it wasn't for business, but I'd deemed the matter at hand to be worth my time.
I passed by Nampi at her desk on my way to the door and she gave me a coy glare as I carried on. Trying to ignore her risible ear waggle, I turned the corner to the door with my boss’s name painted on the glass panel where I could hear the frantic crumpling of paper.
Quietly, I entered Marlig's office without prompt as I knew he hated to be spooked by knocking. My mentor was surprisingly spry for a bird at his age, sorting through papers with one wing and an eye while using his talons with the other to set away the papers he had splayed out.
“Hileen!” he chirped. “Glad you could make it in today. I was just finishing up my paperwork. Take a seat.”
It was always nice to hear him drop the professional motif for a more grandfatherly attitude when speaking in person. I did as he suggested and took a seat while he grumbled to himself over the sorting. My eye caught a few of the old contracts he was rifling through and saw that some dated back to his days as an agent.
Eventually, he left some sitting out as he sequestered the rest back into their files, sorted by a dichotomy that only he and Nampi could comprehend fully. He motioned with a wing for me to peruse and I turned the first one to face me to find it was my first contract, signed by me in a sloppy fashion. “This takes me back a couple of years.”
“Slick bastard thought he could get away on a forklift but you showed him! Certainly more exciting than my first day!”
“Mm-hmm. And it was when I nearly got impaled that you had the idea to commission all of us utility vests.”
He chuckled, “I really should’ve done so sooner. Cuts and scratches were already a risk, but a forklift was a new one!”
I flipped through the pages of each report, finding that Marlig's notes were filled with praises of my work. There were highs and lows, but I was flattered to find that the grizzled krakotl held my performance in such high regard.
“Flawless interception!” read one footnote about me catching a runner. “Couldn't have done it better myself!”
Marlig waited patiently as I browsed quickly through each page, realizing more and more how the notes also marked improvements in my work. How I found it easier to talk down a rowdy client, or apprehend them in the case that they were beyond helping on my part. Flowery language plastered most pages with him fawning over my work as a doting father would to his prodigal child.
The trend took a sharp turn as the notes became fewer and more critical the closer the dates reached to the present. I brushed the others aside with a wing to peruse the final paper. “And this…”
“Is Tac. Your latest contract. The most recent in a line of declining performance since the interview. This has become a pattern, Hileen, and its consequences are beginning to reach beyond yourself. Paji and Vesek resigned recently for personal reasons, which leaves us even less hands on deck than before. That's four people to cover the entire municipal region, and maybe even beyond, should needs arise. Three, if we include this little probation I have you on.”
“What was I supposed to do? Marlig, these ‘jobs’ you've got us working on overstep the contracts we were signed on with. Our job is to make sure people obey their court-mandated duties, not drag them off to the facilities ourselves!”
“... So the trip we took to the facilities did bother you.”
A sigh clicked in my throat as he reminded me. “Is that what happens to the people we take in, Marlig? Is that what would've happened to your wife?”
His feathers ruffled.
“That's what happens to those who are too dangerous to the general public to be left roaming free. Not everyone we deal with winds up there, but everyone can be subject to it. Miskela sued for her exoneration and proved in court that she was not diseased. I brought you there to show you how it helps the people, but I see now that it was a mistake. I understand why you were so perturbed, really, but it's how things have been for centuries. It's how we've protected ourselves from the dangers out there.”
“You were willing to let Barsul be interned there, too.”
Marlig flinched and sighed as he swept the papers towards himself once I'd signaled I was done. He turned one eye to me while he sorted them.
“There's no room for favoritism, girl. I negotiated for him to be allowed to walk free, and look where that got me. That boy - your neighbor - suffered the consequences of my nepotism. So too would the girl, had nobody intervened.”
“Like Richard.”
“The human, yes. Or you. Or the police. Where does this sudden obsession with humans come from, anyway? I get notifications of you talking about the acceptance of them all the time on forums.”
“Does it even need explaining?”
“Well, I guess not, no, but it's certainly an about-face from the way you used to talk about them with me beforehand.”
“People can change, for better or worse. Which one I fall under remains to be seen.”
Marlig stroked at the plumage on his neck as he finished his sorting. “I hope it's the former, for your sake. Was there any reason you came to talk, or were you just checking that I hadn't gone senile?”
“Well, I was hoping to borrow your secretary for the evening.”
He perked up while his eyes narrowed and he laced his fingers together with curiosity. “You… want to spend an evening with Nampi?”
“It's not what you're insinuating, but yes.”
“I was insinuating nothing,” he warbled coyly. “Go ahead and take her, and make sure to split the bill at dinner.”
“Pain-in-the-ass geezer. I'll keep in touch if your friend causes any more trouble.”
“Keep in touch regardless. Miskela and I get lonely in our old age,” he called back. “Take care.”
I stepped out into the hallway and turned toward the desk where I could hear the secretary's claws tapping furtively at her keyboard. Nampi sat silently with her ears and tail in a relaxed position that implied a bored demeanor. There was barely any response as I stood before her, waiting politely for her acknowledgment that never came.
Hesitantly, I cleared my throat.
An ear raised in acknowledgement, but her focus remained on the screen of her computer. “Mhm?”
“Do you…?”
Her ear rotated toward me, though she still maintained a passive attitude as she continued to glare mindlessly at the monitor.
“Are you free this evening?”
“Well, I'm quite booked, I believe. Why do you ask?”
I was surprised at her curt, dry tone. She hadn't spoken with me like this since we first got to know one another.
“Well,” I started. “I realized something. Every time we went out, whether it was clubbing, or dinner, or even walking around the parks, you always footed the bill. And so…”
Slowly, her other ear perked up and I saw her keystrokes slow down as she listened in.
“I wanted to return the favor?”
Her lips smacked as she opened her mouth, though paused before she spoke. “How could you possibly do that?”
“With a little gesture of friendship.”
Nampi's horizontal pupil turned up toward me and her tail twitched.
I continued, “So that belt you're wearing? It's the same belt you've worn since we first met. And I know you're the pragmatic type who'd never spend a credit more than she needs to, except for all the times you do"- her ears twitched in indignance -"I wanted to see about getting you a little something… extra?”
Her paws raised from the keyboard and she leaned in, resting her snout on her palms. “Go on.”
The bubbly venlil's tail sold out her collected facade as it twitched with anticipation. She was cornered and she didn't even know it yet.
“Well, I found just the place on the other side of town where we can start. It's a place almost as rich and indulgent as yourself.”
“The Platinum Paw? I mean3”
Her ears folded back in embarrassment as she cracked. She wasn't cut out for acting anyway.
“So that's what it's called! Jeez, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was called. Now what do you say? We go over there and find you something nice—”
I hadn’t even finished my thought before Nampi had grabbed her bag and was out the door, giving me a playful tail flick that said come and get me.

The place I suggested was in a shopping center on the opposite side of town, though easily accessible because of its proximity to the transport rails. Nampi had insisted on grabbing something to eat beforehand and so now gleefully bit into a bundle of stalks that had been “grilled” as explained from the food truck we'd stopped at.
Her tail flicked back and forth with her usual enthusiasm as we entered the massive complex of stores. The roofless plan allowed the natural, orange sun to flood the upper levels while artificial lighting illuminated the ground level wherever the light couldn't reach.
The place was built in the last decade by the previous City Magister in a bid for popularity, though ultimately for naught as he would lose the vote following a scandal involving an iftali priestess and a carved bar of soap. I had to say that despite being sick in the head, he sure had a great sense of decor.
Nampi snacked away, joining me in admiring the scenery as we continued to the place I’d planned out for us. Aimless chatter all melded together into a single, thrumming murmur as pedestrians navigated the many levels and stores offered in the place.
A troupe of children passed by us, held in a chain of tails and arms as they were escorted by a pair of venlil who I assumed were students and teachers on a school trip. I caught a whiff of a sweet, aromatic breeze and found it to come from a perfume shop on the same level as us; naturally, venlil were not to be found inside.
We passed a fountain where a couple sat on the edge, their tails twined together as they giggled and flirted. I turned and caught Nampi watching them as well, though she awkwardly returned to sucking the remains of her meal from her claws when we made eye contact. Her ears lifted when I raised a wing to signal to the store we were going to stop at first.
“Platinum Paw, The Greatest Fashion Emporium For Everyone!”
The title alone was painfully cliche, taken to the tenth power by the brightly lit store taking up three department slots. Despite the flashy exterior, though, it was the best place to shop for belts, brooches, and bracelets alike. Customers who looked like they earned my yearly salary in a week browsed the higher end brands while I brought my friend to the section I wanted to show her.
Her ears were held up as we stood together next to a shelf chock full of fashionable bags and bandoliers of every variety.
“Pick one,” I told her.
Nampi's ears shot to a straight pose in surprise, “Any?”
“Within reason. I've got a few extra credits to blow and I know nobody better to spend it on.”
With an inviting headtilt, I let Nampi peruse the shelves at her leisure. Her lips pursed together and her tail flicked with glee as she fingered at every piece that caught her eye. I chuckled at her outburst of enthusiasm while turning to find my own items to gloss over.
A breeze from outside nipped at my beak while I considered what I’d like to purchase. The place dripped with an atmosphere of faux hospitality, from the bright blue-stained floorboards to the radio prattling off advertisements in a sickeningly sweet tone to the faint, fruity aroma of scented cleaner. It was oppressive as only a fissan-owned company could be to the senses.
What I wouldn’t pay to see how a human would fare in such an environment.
I knew they were social creatures at least, but I had no doubt that the predatory senses of a human, so honed to hunting, would get overstimulated in this center of gaudy indulgence. Knowing I was something of a predator myself made me sympathize provided that even I had to squint to keep the pale lights inside from searing my eyes. I could only imagine how the arboreal eyes of a Terran would fare. I was so lost in thought imagining how lost the Terrans would be that I could almost ignore the obnoxious giggling and metallic rattling coming from behind me.
Risking a peek at the source, into my sight came a pair of venlil, one a male carrying a pair of bags as well as a couple more strapped to his belt. The bored expression in his eyes was not one of a man who was in high spirits. The other venlil was a woman who was the source of the noise.
Her mottled gray pelt was accented by a tasteful belt design, free of almost any practical functions but not flashy or excessive in garnishment either. At least, that’s what I would say, were it not for the braid of beads that dangled on the belt, jingling with each bounce of the lively woman’s stride. It was clear that such a gaudy accessory was intended to draw attention to her, though why was a mystery. Certainly, the shiny braids seemed designed as decoration first and practical second.
She turned about and I faced back to my browsing before she could catch me staring. Nampi was nowhere in sight, though I figured she was somewhere behind the shelf, sifting through every accessory on the section I'd suggested.
Clink.
Something pelted to my immediate right. I tilted my head to spot a tree nut shell clattering to the floor. Without being able to guess where it came from, I had to wonder what could've launched it over this way. Even with my keen eyesight, nobody in the crowd seemed to be a suspect.
Clink.
Another shell pelted my vicinity, ricocheting off of the floor and hitting the shelf I was standing next to. I ruffled my feathers in frustration - clearly, someone was trying to get my attention, though I couldn't make out who it was. Out of the corner of my vision, the woman from before eyed me curiously as I looked about, though I wasn't interested in engaging with her.
Thwack.
One more shell came flying and, unfortunately, the aim on this one was true, nailing me on the beak. Irritated, I stormed out of the store to find the source of the instigator. I scanned over the bodies to find anyone who could've been responsible for this indignity, eventually concluding that it came from the dining area across the walkway.
Whoever was responsible was in for an earful and I was already structuring which of the offender's family members would be acceptable as fodder for stray words. As I approached, I found the tables were mostly empty save for one, which made my heart begin to drop as I met eyes with the only occupant. Suddenly, I was much less inclined to hurl insults.
“Oh, hi there!” Qitel called out in a sickly sweet tone. “Come, take a seat! We have much to discuss!”
The Exterminator clutched a bag of tree nuts in his claws, a pile of discarded shells already gathered on the table next to him. He grabbed another as I approached, effortlessly prying the shell in half between two claws and tossed the contents into his mouth. “Good protein, these,” he commented as I sat down.
“Must be for that good arm you've got there,” I mumbled. I caught sight of a couple of bags beneath his chair, seemingly from one of the tech stores contained within the center.
“Bah, it's guesswork. So how are you? I haven't heard from you since we worked together!”
“I was just spending time with a friend, shopping and enjoying my time off.”
“Your time off? Oh, am I interrupting something?”
His snide tone irked me, though now wasn’t the time for interjections. “You are, Qitel,” I replied with no shortage of vitriol in my tone. “But I see no harm in chatting for a bit.”
“Good, because I have some merchandise”- he reached into his belt pocket and deposited a couple of items onto the table -“and you’re just the person to look into it, human sympathizer.”
I drew a terse breath in shock, but my worries were quelled when I considered that if Qitel had the power to do anything about it, he would’ve done so instead of approaching me so discreetly. A glance down at the item on the table showed that he was presenting what looked to be a tracker as well as a personal drive. “Found in the garbage,” he told me.
“The guild resorts to dumpster diving when they already have such a bloated budget now?”
“No, featherbrain, I have decided to keep this for myself. These items were found together, sealed in a plastic pouch, and placed in a garbage bin. The city has bans against electronics being placed into public bins, and so I was curious why this wound up in there. Managed to get my coworker, a techie, to crack it open and…”
Qitel reached into his belt again, glowering at me with the same condescending gaze he’d given me when I first saw his face. He seemed to revel in digging for the item as slowly as possible to waste my time. Finally, he found whatever he was looking for and revealed it as a printed piece of paper, folded into eighths. The snobby yotul threw the unfurled paper on the table and rolled it toward me.
I craned my neck to look at the parchment, though I was immediately perplexed by the text on it; it appeared to be some sort of form, going by the boxes with words on the inside, followed by blank lines. “Found on the drive, here,” Qitel told me, jabbing a claw to the storage. “Translator shows it as Terran writing.”
Drawing my holopad from my satchel, I held it over the paper with the translator to get an understanding. Surely enough, the language on it came up positive as a variant of Terran writing and I was affirmed in it being a form of some sort based on the wording of the text. The boxes seemed like an odd sort of job application, asking for the typical name, contacts, and prior work experiences, but quickly took a strange turn as it began asking for where their home on Earth was prior to arrival, what family they had on Venlil Prime if any, and where they worked, implying that they were seeking individuals who were already employed.
I knew little about human employment methods, but I didn’t imagine that sourcing individuals from other jobs was the most efficient way to gain a workforce. Terran service industries already dotted the planet while many humans also found work in local environments. So what was the angle that the creator of this application was going for?
Most concerningly was that the paper had no insignia, identifying marks, or noted address to return the form to. “And where did you find it again?”
“In the garbage, alongside this intact tracker that was activated at the time of recovery. Y’know, when I was dumpster diving. Text on the document showed it was addressed to one ‘Choctaw Nexus’.”
“A pseudonym of some sort?”
“Clearly. Short sorting through the archives shows the first name traces back to the group out east - perhaps you've heard about them. How the name and the items we have here are connected is beyond my understanding, but-”
“Well, this has been an absolutely riveting discussion about your collection of trash, Qitel,” I told him as I stood up to leave. “But this really sounds like an issue to be resolved by your fellow guildsmen.”
The sound of another shell splitting rang out as I turned away.
“I'm not through talking with you, predator.”
The sting as a piece nailed me in the back of the head prompted me to whirl back around, sticking my beak in the insolent yotul's snout. “Perhaps you've forgotten, little man,” I cooed in an equally bittersweet tone to the one he gave me before. “The krakotl never had a problem with settling issues the old-fashioned way before the interview. Try me and find out why I'm in the line of work I am.”
“Oh, we wouldn't want that in such a"- he waved his paw to a group of passersby who had stopped to gawk at my display -”public forum. Please, contain yourself.”
I had to force the feathers on my back to settle and I raised my head away from him. “What else is it you wanted, then?”
“Well, I'd appreciate if you took this merchandise off my paws,” he told me as he brushed the electronics and printout toward me.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you're closer to the humans than I'd ever care to be, and may be able to find out who this Choctaw Nexus is. Something about the package just feels… off. And I know when to trust my feelings. Besides, we both know that you know where Tac is, don't we?”
“I don't-”
“We have videographic evidence that you conspired with a human - of the aforementioned squatters, no less - and let the kid escape. You're not as sneaky as you think, and if we find this ‘Choctaw Nexus’ turns out to be a bad actor that can be traced back to them - and by extension, you - well, there’d be no talking down my boss from having you dealt with. By helping me find out who this is, you may yet be able to clear your name of any wrongdoing.”
I clenched my beak tightly to maintain a straight face. Qitel stood up with a flourish and discarded the bag he was carrying in a bin.
“See, the krakotl were never special for using threats and bullying to get results. It's because you were good at killing predators,” he jeered. “Now, if you don't mind, this primitive has appointments to attend to… old lady who got trampled courtesy of the humans and all. You stay out of trouble, Hileen, and stay in touch.”
The self-assured marsupial melded into the crowd in a matter of seconds, leaving me with a table containing dumpster trophies and a pile of shells. Reluctantly, I swept the shells into my wing and dumped them into the bin before gathering the other two items he'd left me and stuffing them into my bag. I'd been gone from Nampi long enough and she would notice my absence before long.
Crossing the walkway again, I could spot from where I stood that Nampi was indeed still in the Platinum Paw. I approached, and soon I found that while she didn't seem to have noticed me stepping away, she was definitely in a soured mood based on the sagging of her ears and tail. With my talons clacking on the floorboards, I hustled to her side and her mood chippered up ever so slightly as she heard me approach.
I chimed in, “Find anything?”
“Everything. I want everything, Red, and I can't decide on what I want. They all just look so great!”
From behind, a voice called out, “Nampi!”
We both jumped at the exclamation and turned about to spot the venlil lady I'd seen before spring from behind the shelf. The man poked his head from behind the shelf too, though less enthusiastically and with yet another bag in his clutches. My friend's eyes widened in surprise with her tail and ears perking up in kind. With a light in her eyes, she exclaimed, “Nalek!”
The two embraced with shrill squeals and laughter as Nalek's accompaniment and I traded awkward glances.
“It's been too long!”
“You never stayed in contact!”
The women exchanged giddy greetings and the pompous stranger turned to me, leering over me as though she was sizing me up.
“Who's your friend here?”
“Oh she's actually my-...”
Nampi paused for a moment, looking back to me.
“Yeah, she's a friend.”
“A friend,” Nalek repeated while her eyes flicked between Nampi and I. “Right.”
Somehow, I get the impression that that was judgemental.
“I'm Hileen, by the way,” I chirped, “if names are to be exchanged.”
“Hileen, that's a lovely name! And such plumage to match, it's a wonder you aren't swarmed by suitors!”
Internally, I groaned at the notion. The idea of being approached by someone to state their interest in me made me queasy, to say the least. Thankfully, I never had that issue growing up as most of the other drakes in school were too busy chasing girls who didn't have a lousy pigmentation mutation such as myself.
“I'm flattered,” I told Nalek before turning to the man whose name had yet to be introduced. “May we get your name?”
“Sask.”
His response was succinct and tonally flat, though there was a brief silence as I expected him to elaborate. Nalek's beads jingled as she lashed him on the calf with her tail.
“I'm Sask, Nalek's fiancée,” he added, throwing her a look to see if she was satisfied.
Nampi gasped with her paws over her snout. “Fiancée! Nalek, you're getting married and you never even told me!”
“Well, I felt a little guilty since it technically broke our pact we made when we were pups. You remember that?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? ‘Let she who bonds through betrothal first be cast out unto the world for all to admonish her!’”
Sask and I both gave inquisitive expressions. “You two spoke like that as pups?” Sask asked.
“Well, I'm paraphrasing,” Nampi admitted with a playful ear waggle. “But you get the gist.”
“Indeed, they do, sweet Nampi. Now, may I ask what you're doing bringing your avian friend here into this store on this fine claw?”
“Oh, no no, she's the one treating me! Isn't that right, Red?”
I saw her tail twitch and was sure it took restraint not to tickle my neck with it as we stood before her old friend.
“She's been a good friend,” I explained. “So I wanted to reverse the roles for once and treat her to something myself.”
Nampi skipped over to me and wrapped her arm around me, glancing back to her old friend. “See? We'd all be so lucky to have a… friend like her.”
“So I've witnessed. But perhaps you're a bit stuck, as I've seen you prancing up and down these aisles for a while, no? Maybe you don't know what you want?”
“Nalek, you know I've never been good about making my mind up.”
“Some things never change, you ditz. Tell you what: you and Sask go find us a seat and we can catch up all we'd like when we're not taking up aisle space, yes? So shoo! I'll help Hileen here pick one out for you!”
With a bored grunt, Sask made off with the goods he had strapped to himself, followed by Nampi who gave me one more playful tail flick before dashing off into the crowd. I looked back to the mottled snout of Nalek who watched her friend wander off with a wistful glance.
“She was my first, you know.”
“Your what now.”
“Love. Way back when we were growing from pups into young adults back in private education, we explored much together. We saw each other through a lot, including the less savory parts of finding a mate. When Nampi realized it wasn't the boys she was into, she turned to me, and I offered my hand as her stalwart companion… to a point.”
“You weren't interested in her the same way?”
“I'd grown up seeing her as a sister of sorts, so ultimately, when we split it off, we stayed close as friends and she never seemed to be bothered by it. She struggled to find others in school who had the same interests as herself, but she never fussed about it.”
Nalek's claws browsed over a set of pouched bandoliers made with intricate embroidering. “Have you two… spent the night together? Alone?”
Spiritually, I reeled from the inquiry. The whiplash from that question was equitable to being smacked by a human. “Wha- why? How's that pertinent to the subject at hand?”
“That sounds like a ‘yes’ to me,” she purred with a smug glance my way.
I didn't need to begin to list the different ways such a question was violating to our privacy, and yet this woman was treating it like a game.
“Not really your concern, ma'am.”
Nalek chuckled as she picked out one of the bandoliers and inspected it with her claws. “I'd like to think that she and I still have that old connection, despite everything. And to that end, I know that she's no slag and doesn't trust easy. To see her be so vulnerable around you and to talk so highly of someone who's clearly below her income level as a predator…”
She stretched the bandolier out to appreciate the design in its entirety.
“Well, that's something special. Here"- she foisted the accessory into my wings as I stood gobsmacked -"this just screams her name.”
“This is, like, double my budget.”
“Love don't come cheap, darling. You wanna see good things happen, sometimes you've gotta step out of your comfort zone and grasp for it!”
“I'm being lectured by a rich woman on finances.”
“It's a philosophy that goes beyond money, ‘Red.’ The humans have a saying, in their horrendously predatory nomenclature, that contains a kernel of truth: ‘you miss every shot you don't take’.”
Yep, that's definitely a human phrase.
Nalek's steely braid rattled with every flick of the tail as we proceeded through the checkout.
“You want things to change between you and her?” she continued. “Don't just wait for it to happen.”
She let the conversation rest there as we finished the purchase, possibly to let me recuperate mentally from the damage done to my account. Outside, we found our respective partners sitting at a table with Sask looking up in boredom as Nampi chatted away, though she immediately shut up and turned to me with excited flicks of her tail as she saw what I was carrying.
I held it toward her and she happily shot to her feet, effortlessly removing the tags with her claws and clipping it to her belt. Nalek clapped and waggled her tail as the giddy lady did a whirl about to let us admire the accessory. While I'd have preferred one with pockets to give it a more practical use, I decided to let Nalek have the victory as our mutual friend clearly enjoyed it.
The rest of the paw was a blur as the two friends chatted without end until Sask eventually reminded his betrothed that they had a schedule to attend to. Though Nalek offered to call us a taxi home as a gesture of kindness, I saw through her ruse to determine that she was trying to pull a fast one on me - the clever ear flick she gave as we boarded the automated vehicle sold it for me.
We sat in the seats as the vehicle took the express ride home.
Nampi cleared her throat before she spoke, “Thank you for taking some time to spend with me, I know you've had a lot less free time as of late.”
“It's a prison of my own design, if I must be honest. A feedback loop of working a job that doesn't guarantee a paycheck to pay for rent that keeps going up, and thus needing to work more.”
The venlil giggled and chided me, “You really should've stayed in university.”
“There's a lotta 'should haves’ that've led me to this point. No use wondering what could have been.”
“There's always a use for wondering what could have been, Hileen.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“Every decision I make, I always wonder what I could've done differently that it'd have turned out better,” she explained as she waved her free paw to the sky. “It's how you grow as a person, Red.”
Her silky pelt felt heavenly in contrast to the chilly air from outside, making it hard to let her words sink in.
“You rich types seem chock full of philosophy. I wonder if I'll become a brooding orator when I get some cash to my name.”
The cab filled with laughter as we veered around the final corner to my neighborhood, as it was the closest stop. The door popped open accompanied by a chime from the drone, signaling for me to depart.
But before my talons could even hit the pavement, I felt Nampi's scrawny arms wrap around my waist and she let out a pitiful mewl again.
“You don't need to get off here,” she told me with a pouty expression. “We can spend the rest of the paw at my place.”
“I'd love it, but I need to water my plants and get the month's bills sorted before they're due. Again.”
One claw at a time, I plucked her paws from around my waist and the childish venlil conceded, giving me another ear waggle as I departed. “I'll see you tomorrow?” I asked her.
“If you still have eyes by then, then you can bet your ass!”
“I still don't gamble.”
“You'll come around to it eventually.”
I shut the door to the taxi and watched as it carted away the one venlil who I ever truly felt on the same wavelength as. Fiddling with the lock felt like more of a chore than usual at this time as I felt a little voice tugging at the back of my head.
“You miss every shot you don't take.”
The lock felt jammed as I began to jiggle it more vigorously with the electric key. Either the RFID or NFC readers were messed up, as the lock refused to accept my key. I looked up and down the street, though Nampi was now long gone for me to rescind my earlier rejection.
“Every decision I make, I wonder what I could've done differently.”
The door rattled as I grew more and more infuriated with the lock. Qitel's smug expression as he threatened me so boldly in public played back in my head, and I wondered what would've happened had I decided to go through with insulting his mother. Better yet, I wondered what could've been had I not backed down in the face of his unflinching confidence.
Bzzt. The lock rejected my key again.
“Raagh! You fucking useless hunk of junk!”
I squawked in anger and kicked against the door, careless of the consequences of having Markol back down here to admonish another of his tenants for causing a ruckus. The walls were surprisingly sturdy for how ineffective the venlil architecture looked on the surface and I reeled back in pain as my leg throbbed.
Click.
I looked to my left to see that it wasn't my door that came open, but that of the twins. The door cracked open ever so slightly, no doubt nudged by the force of my tirade and I sighed. Nobody was expected to be home at this time, with Vili being away and Luka leaving early to get a head start.
Luka had been given a stern talking-to by the landlord for allowing one of those cats into his apartment through neglect, and I was disappointed that he seemed to have not learned his lesson this time. In fact, it seemed he hadn't even thought to lock the door this time.
I took it upon myself to shut the door for him before turning back to my own apartment door. Grasping the key with one talon, I turned it ever so gently, though the lock still refused to give in.
With a bit more force, the torsion applied to the key felt as though it should've snapped it by now. Markol sure didn't waste any expense for the security for this place, doubtlessly as a result of his history in electronic security, but I wished now that he had provided a way in that didn't rely on privately sourced locks.
Considering my options as I stood trapped outside, I realized that I had never gotten around to paying for a new lock for Tadi. I'd considered contacting her to inform her that Tac had made it out of town safely, but that'd involve also telling her that her son was now in the care of humans, as if that was a better outcome to her.
Stepping out front, I realized that there was one more option I hadn't considered: my window. I usually forgot to lock it after I was through letting air circulate and I was silently grateful to myself for this absentmindedness now more than ever. Sticking a foot on the threshold, I lifted myself in a way that'd allow me to have leverage to force the window open.
The window made me fight for every inch, but I felt a strange satisfaction as it slowly opened up into an entrance that I could squeeze my way through. I let out a sigh as my talons clicked against the cool floor and slid the window shut.
I laid my satchel on the couch and turned back to the door, ready to unleash my fury on the disobedient object. But as I reached for the lock to manually open the door, I noted that the lights on the RFID interface both flashed at once, blinking erratically. Red and green flickered without rhyme or reason, indicating that it was both active and inactive.
As pretty as the colors were, I now knew that Markol's locks were not as reliable as he had touted them about: typically, such would not occur unless the device was damaged deliberately, and yet nothing indicated that I'd had uninvited guests. One could pray that those cats didn't secretly know how to cobble together an ECM jammer, but my personal wager was on faulty equipment.
Settling in, I browsed my favorite soaps on the television. For what was intended to be a day of relaxation and show of affection for a friend, I found myself rather wound up over all the things that added up. Couples threw around flowery words and swooned over one another on screen as I felt the tension diffuse. My holopad rang and I turned it over to spot that Nampi was informing me that she'd arrived home safely.
>>> Feels empty here, all alone.
She made sure to drive the point home with a sticker of a venlil making a pouty expression.
Next time, I thought to myself, I'll get it right for you, Nampi.
[ First / Previous ]

Hi! 25f, taking bupropion and esomeprazole (for about two months) as well as Prostap SR and leuprorelin acetate (for 2-3 years). Not using any NSAIDS or anything. About 54kg.
I had stage 4 non-hodgkin's lymphoma when I was 17. I had cancer in 6 places in my body, and I had 15 rounds of chemotherapy and 15 rounds of radiotherapy. We only found out after my lung collapsed from my biggest tumour (12cm/5" in my mediastinum), but in hindsight symptoms leading up to it were severe fatigue, rash, weight loss, night sweats, and then a terrible cough as my lungs got pressured to where they collapsed.
I discovered today that I have about 30-40 small bruises, with absolutely no explanation. I have been wracking my brain trying to think of something. They're generally all small and mild bruises, but there's just a lot of them. Mostly on my legs, but a few on my arms (including some just beginning to form in the last 12 hours) and around my hips. Front, sides, and backs of legs, both calves and thighs.
Photos (they are a bit darker in person, but they're fairly mild as you can see): https://ibb.co/album/tzXQhJ This doesn't show all of them, but just to give an idea of what they look like.
I called my local urgent care place (I'm in Norway) about 12 hours ago and asked if I should get checked urgently with my history, and they said no, but to get a blood test done asap (which will be Tuesday). Since the call, more bruises have started to form, but again they're small and mild. I wouldn't say I'm particularly prone to bruising, probably just average. This has never happened before.
I'm not aware of any major B-symptoms at present — I have lost about 5kg in the past month or two, but I do think that's more related to coming off previous medications (which affected my weight) and not eating very much due to anxiety. That said, my appetite has been poor generally. I'm not noticing much fatigue. Night sweats, a bit, but I am on antidepressants and it's been very warm here at the minute so it could be more to do with that.
How concerned should I be? Is this normal for women in their 20s? I don't know what blood cancer bruises look like — I never had them with my lymphoma. Is this abnormal?

PREFACE APOLOGY: I hate how long this post is, but there are so many nuances that are applicable to the intricacies of my situation - so for best chance of receiving tangible advice, I felt I had to give a good amount info (this is just the tip of the iceberg lol but I'll save the rest for the Titanic)
First: Explanation of title above; I am a first-gen college and current medical student. The relevancy here is I come from low-income and uneducated (does not mean stupid or that you need to be educated to know about financing or alternative solutions at all) parents who don't know much about how to approach finding options as it pertains to either acaedmia or financing
Second: In full transparency, my mental and physical health is hanging on by a thread so while I very much want honesty, any advice along the lines of "you're SOL", "damn that sucks...medicine isn't for everyone", or "it just is what is is", while valid thoughts, would only further harm me right now. So if tangible advice is not feasible, words of affirmation work wonders as well <3 THANK YOU IN ADVANCE FOR EVEN CLICKING ON THIS AND/OR READING THIS
Situation overview:
Without going into too much detail, I am essentially on what is commonly referred to as a "research year" in med school - which is when you take a year in between the normal four years to do research. This can also be used to catch up on exams, finish academic makeups, or slow down due to life circumstances while remaining an active student. These years are less than half-time where I go, which means that students qualify for zero federal or state financial aid for living expenses. From what I understand, a lot of students traverse this via one of the following: paid research positions (2 birds, 1 stone but extremely competitive and hard to find), financial support from family, obtaining a private student loan, or simply getting a full-time job (depending on if they have remaining academic items to finish first or if they don't want to do an LOA but still need a break and don't have anything academically to catch up on).
Applying above dynamics to my circumstances:
Personally, I had a major med school exam to finish and a couple smaller ones after during said research year. Originally, my hopes and intentions were to do research during this year, but life and changes in school policy resulted in that not being the case. At the start of this year 20 months ago, I was extremely open with faculty about my needing to get a job in addition to these academic requirements, despite our common shared opinion that the aforementioned exam is itself a full-time job and is extremely high stakes. However, since they stated they could not offer me any grants or aid, quite literally having a job was a matter of life or death as I needed to eat and afford stable housing. Flash forward, I began communicating how balancing the two was causing me to be spread thin and I was still struggling financially, which resulted in delays in academic progress in terms of exam readiness. The only advice I was given was taking an LOA (which was so frustrating and hurtful as we regularly get grants from donors) - but I was always so against an LOA for much of this time because this seems to be their solution for everything rather than actually finding tangible solutions and student support (have a cold? Take an LOA. Boyfriend dumped you? Take an LOA). Additionally, I knew while on an LOA I could not finish the items required of me since I would not be an active student - so it would solve nothing while further pushing me behind another year from graduating. Flash forward, I've had 7 months of food insecurity, using food pantries, utilities being cut off, trying to maintain some semblance of self-worth and mental health.....all while trying to be a med student. I also don't feel bad for myself, it sucks, but I'm not new to this, I'm true to this" life lol. I have just been trying to navigate the situation to the best of my ability - because even though I don't feel this way right now - I'm meant to be here and deserve to be here. I have overcome far to much to get here to begin with.
I can't go into why - but essentially, right or wrong, this is make or break for me. And I have 6 weeks to get said remaining academic criteria done (preparing for it is a full-time job). The school has since gotten the year that I'm on to qualify as half-time enrollment status, so students will get aid and don't have the problem I am having. However, this change doesn't apply to me (naturally lol), as it will only be in effect for new students starting out on said year.
Summary/overview of current sitution:

• no guidance or financial support institutionally, but with increasing alluded consequences
  
• family who is helping as much as they can but is also low-income
  
• credit score is poofair range (624 Transunion, 596 Equifax) that doesn't qualify for private student loans (even with a co-signer as my parent also does not meet requirements) or new credit cards + $17 in my account and no additional money in sight
  
• spent the last two weeks looking for remote work I could balance with exam prep, GoFundMe didn't gather much, already sold most of the clothes and shoes I own, can't get paid to donate blood due to anemia that developed this year from food insecurity, grocery delivering in my town earns less than minimum wage with the gas you use that isn't reimbursed
  

What can I do? I am beginning to look into emergency personal loans, but I really don't understand how these types of loans and pay day loans work? Does the APR kick-in after 30 days? If so, if you pay it earlier do you avoid all the APR? How soon can you get these deposited into your account if approved? I'm sure it's all specific to each lender but according to my initial loan match, my APR would be 99% lmao. I essentially only need 2k in personal loans to get me to July and finish this exam. My hope would be to use $200-$300 of these funds to apply for online MPH programs that starts in July (I've always wanted to do this anyways while in med school), which would qualify me for financial aid that I could get in the next couple weeks and then I could use these funds to pay off payday/emergency loans by July - which is when I will be all in the clear and can get a full-time job OR take an LOA without dire consequences academically - and will be able to finish required exam in the next 6 weeks.
Final info is that I asked about taking an LOA given extreme circumstance, and I was told no/that it would not be good in the long term (sort of implying I could get dismissed as soon as I come back for not taking the exam by 6 week deadline)
ANY TIPS/ADVICE ON LOOPHOLES TO NAVIGATE THIS IN ADDITION TO PERSONAL LOANS AND MPH/FIN-AID OPTIONS STATED ABOVE WOULD BE IMMENSELY APPRECIATED.

Yeah so, this has been on my mind for quite awhile, and been a very big factor into how much I write.
On the outside and to everyone I know IRL, I’m a regular guy on the younger side who’s interested in regular things, nothing anyone would bat an eye at.
Behind closed doors I’m a fanfiction writer who dabbles in romance and is interested in some questionable fandoms to most people. The fandom I write for is one I’ve been into since I was a kid and the reason I write at all, and I’ve seen a lot of positive feedback for my writing online.
The thing is I’m honest to god so embarrassed of these interests and writing fanfiction as a hobby, and that embarrassment fluctuates and tends to affect when and how much I write.
At the end of the day, I know that my interests are not actually that weird, if at all, and a lot of people are into this stuff, but I’d be lying if I said I could look any of my IRL friends in the eyes if they knew what I do on the internet or god forbid someone I was interested in romantically found out. (which is why I literally do everything possible to cover my tracks to anyone I know in the real world)
This leads to a lot of self-induced guilt that makes me just ask myself constantly if I’m a weird person. Sometimes I know I’m being a bit unreasonable with myself and just opt in with the “who cares what other people would think” but other times I just can’t shake the feeling and feel like I’m in denial of the fact that I’m kind of weird (sometimes even going as far to cause me to private my stories for a bit) and this post will most likely see an inevitable deletion too.
Am I the only one who deals with this?

• we're a private non-profit 501c3
• we already have $250.99 Business Verizon Fios Gigabit at a location
• we have 2 BYOD unlocked phones and only need service on those two phones

My questions:

• I've seen references that as a 501c3, we're eligible for Verizon Government. Is this true, and if so what do the perks/discounts look like?
• What's the best way to onboard/sideboard our existing Fios account?
• Under Verizon Government, how do phone plans look like? We're considering getting Visible+ plans for them, but it would be great if we just have 1 bill that covers it all.

what if there was a dumb guy
and the dumb guy was really, really profoundly dumb
what if he was so dumb he spent all day every day all his life pooping himself and playing with his poop
what if he spent so long pooping himself and playing with the poop that he pooped
so very very long pooping himself and then playing with the poop that he accumulated that magic malcolm gladwell 10,000 hours, and then still way even more hours than that, under his belt, of self pooping experience
and in the course of playing with his own poop the dumb guy learned to make intricate and baroquely ornamental poop sculptures from the poop
like some kind of a poop savant
and sometimes the dumb guy tries to show the poop sculptures to people because they're so beautiful and ornate
but everyone runs away. because no matter how exquisitely formed all of the poop is it is just too disgustingly smelly
but one day someone with with a little curiosity and a strong stomach strays a tad closer to the dumb guy than most do
and that someone is perceptive and sensitive enough to notice that there may just be something special here about these poop sculptures, that the dumb guy may well have something to give, if only his poop didn't stink so bad
so the someone takes a deep breath, puts a clothes peg on their nose, and says Yes i would love to look at your poop sculptures tell me all about them
and the dumb guy is overjoyed beyond words. he is swept away with ecstasy at his undreamt fortune. a non-dumb person who doesn't play with their own poop wants to talk to him and be his friend and be interested in the poop sculpting together
the someone, in their turn, is graduallly captivated and charmed at the dumb poop guy's endless passion and enthusiasm and willingness to share it. they even think things to themselves "i wish i loved anything as much as this dumb guy loves playing with his own poop"
but the peg stays on their nose, of course
the someone also knows the pain the dumb pooping guy feels from his isolation. the someone thinks it isn't fair. the someone wants to fix it. the someone wants to help.
so the someone goes to the art supply store (they cannot take their dumb friend there, obviously) and at their own expense they purchase a smorgasbord of workable material: polymer clay, beeswax, silicone resin, salt dough and more, in all the colors of the rainbow
and with extremely tactful and diplomatic grace, they carefully broach the possibility of the dumb guy exploring different mediums to display his sculpture skills in
specifically, odorless ones
well, the dumb guy is intrigued. he is a bit confuzzled about why exactly anyone would want to make sculptures out of anything aside from one's own poop; but the someone is his best friend now, and if it makes the someone happy for some reason he's right on board
the dumb guy launches himself into his new task with gusto. it's heavy going at first, and there are some false starts; the consistency of the odorless clay is not quite the same as that of his poop, and he can't quite make it do the same things. compared with his poop sculptures, the new pieces are honestly quite mediocre.
but the someone tells him they're wonderful and he should be proud of them. over and over. and even in his profound regardation he can tell something is changing with them. he doesn't know why, but the more time he spends on making the bland and indifferent clay sculptures, and the less time he spends masterpieces out of poop, the happier they seem and the more time they want to spend together
one day, the someone even takes the peg off of their nose. by now, the dumb guy barely smells of poop at all
they come up with a suggestion: it's time to open the doors and introduce the world to the newly clean guy, whom in the absence of any poop stink it is questionable to even call dumb anymore. an grand exhibition, open to one and all, of the plain old guy's normal-smelling masterpieces in various plastic media
it's a little scary but it's exciting too. the guy is so grateful to the someone for helping him and putting the time in when no one else would. that long standing ache in his heart is almost gone. privately, he has absolutely no idea why the someone thinks his new stuff is so incredible; but he still wants to show his friend, and the world in general, gratitude and beauty by making the best pieces he ever can
so while the someone is busy with all the invitations and arrangements, the guy plans a suite of last minute adjustments and reornamentations so his gallery will be as stunning as it can possibly be
and he gets down to it
yes he gets down to it
on the day of the grand exhibition, a crowd has formed outside the grand hall. there is an anticipatory hubbub in the air. the someone proudly cuts the ribbon and throws open the doors
and their noses are powerfully assaulted by a tidal wave of stench. the stench of pure poop.
all of the mediocre and uninspired clay sculptures have been transformed into rancidly putrid masterpieces, by the addition of intricated and delicately sculpted layers of the dumb guy's poop. poop is his best medium, and the public deserves better than mere clay
in the middle of it all is he, squatposed, smeared even more deeply with poop and being more gross and dumb than he ever was before
in that moment the someone's heart breaks and shatters into one krillion seventy eight kajillion brillion tiny little bits. and with no words, no words at all, not even the cries of horror and disgust emanating from the rest of the crowd, they leave and run far far away and never come near the dumb guy ever again
and the dumb guy doesn't understand. he has no idea what he did wrong. no matter how much he thinks, it just doesn't occur to him that poop smells bad and people don't like it
because he is too dumb
grieving the loss of this deep friendship is an extremely painful and lonely process for him but he manages to make it and bounce back, by the sole means of - you guessed it - pooping and playing with his poop and making even more wonderfully accomplished poop sculptures
after all, the only possible reason everyone ran away from the exhibition must be that his poop sculpting skills weren't up to par. that's gotta be it. gotta spend more time poopsculpting. poopsculpting, poop grinding for the rest of his life. one day he'll make it. one day it'll all go right. just gotta keep pooping.
so yeah what if all of that happened

Okay, from the "There's No Hate Like Christian Love" files, ... My ex-wife* has severe, progressive Multiple Sclerosis. Unlike the people in the ads on TV for MS meds, she's in the cohort where it has effectively left her permanently and completely disabled. She's currently in the hospital due to an MS flare-up. There's a woman and her kids walking around like chaplains and asked if she'd like her to pray with her. My ex-wife, who has never been religious, isn't feeling it so declines, but says she'd be happy to just talk. They proceed to have a relatively friendly discussion, and naturally the topic comes up about how she ended up in the hospital. As an otherwise healthy-looking mid-30's woman, it's a fair question, so she explains. The "chaplain" proceeds to ask her if she ever had kids.

• Sidenote: We did try to have kids, but she's got several other medical issues including a family history of needing fertility treatments to have kids, an ovarian disorder, and MS which the doctors advised she would have to quit the treatments for, should she become pregnant. The fact is, despite the fact that we tried, when she did go off the drugs for about two months to attempt the treatments, that is when she began the initial slide into permanent disability. Naturally, it's a touchy subject for all of us.
• Another sidenote: I'm also a veteran, and it was while in my military service we tried to have kids. However, despite a documented medical history that of four other women in her family that they only responded to a single, relatively expensive, "last resort" fertility treatment, TriCare insisted that we not do that until she had failed to conceive for six months on two of the others. That would have been a year of failed treatments while she was off her MS meds, and she began a permanent disability slide after just two months, at which point we stopped.

Anyways, during the conversation, this chaplain explains to her that she NEEDED to have kids, because "God blesses those who embrace His plan for them." My ex-wife was never one to mince words. Anyways, as of this writing, this event happened about two hours ago. Her sister (who also had the issue with the fertility treatments) called me to let me know that the hospital staff was trying to decide whether or not she could stay after tomorrow, but that "This was the first time that family had been yelled at by ANYBODY, let alone a patient!"
Can hospitals be sued for medical malpractice for allowing in volunteers who will harm their patients?
*We got divorced so that she can qualify for Medicaid. I make too much money to qualify for a state-run healthcare plan, and all the private insurance options refuse to actually provide the care that she needs because she's such an expensive case.