Deep dry cough

Some journal posting and rambles
It took me months to gain 10lbs and I lost it all in a week, got an ugly sun rash all over my chest, Too much Chinese food and too little appetite. I am utterly exhausted and writing just so I can sleep easier. Spent todays daydreaming-while-working thinking about writing. Painted some staircases and posts, railings, installed almost-the-last deck board. Coughing like mad, debating with myself if I enjoy breathing or nicotine and some weed more and it's a tough call. Really tough call. The goal is at least, less than the current amount.
I got chicken balls and sweet and sour pork. The chicken's great but the pork is kind of, ligneous. Still good. I wish I was able to stomach it while it was still warm but it's gonna be tomorrows breakfast and dinner, probably.
4 hours of sleep and here we are, decelerating. Losing orbit.
I enjoy the music, though I don't play it for myself usually.
Stressing a little about getting to sleep, and about finishing this sentence - tying up the plot points neat and tidy-like. Annunciate the grand unrevealing, the magnum opus of the 5th greatest, utter the spark that triggers the cascade of potential onwards outwards inwards and twisting. Like fire growing in the wind.
Lame stand grandstand graduation onboarding, the key is.. fuck. It must be in my other pants. The key is good dry-cleaning. Clean up nice and shave that eyebrow into two. Become feral and override the coward - impulse and steady headedness fet for domination, instead teach them to dance. Civilized submission in a pixilated nirvana, desires subjugated and potential outward action inwardly starved; a hidden heroin for simulation.
Navel gazing and sun staring aside
escape seeking is only human. If only we knew the extent of which we end up digging ourselves deeper, shallow pits becoming unsurpassable voids due to negligence - ignorance, willful or not.
Tomorrow is either a day off, or I'm power washing in the rain. Sounds drab but I kind of look forward to it, a nice spring shower is refreshing, power washing is straightforward and satisfying. I'm looking forward to a hell-raiser of a thunderstorm though, the sound of rain hitting the sheet metal roof and rumbling in the distance is comforting to sleep too.
I also need to not waste entire days watching garbage on youtube. I'm getting bored of it at least, feeling like I've seen the entire database already and I'm just conditioned to hitting refresh for new uploads. More interacting, less simply watching. Though truth be told it's hard to know where to even start. Annoyed at some perceived degeneration of my writing. Age is meant to come with wisdom but I wonder if some people just decide to stop learning.
I feel quite mad, but I look decent and show up on time. Ready to go on a whim. But I can't seem to find the right whim, a maddening amount of options, but none of them the right piece for the puzzle. I ask, where do you even start, but I'm already here and the ride's already going. It's started already, now I'm here, trying to finish it.
Who the fuck has my pants, though?

Kid's words, not mine. 3 kids and 2 teenage instructors. They were close to the deep end so I was watching and sure enough my son was deep enough the water was at his forehead and he was struggling. Instructors didn't see. I jumped up from where I was watching and walked quickly alongside the pool ready to yell or jump in, and then I saw one of the instructors had him and was carrying him to the shallow end. No life jacket during all this so yeah he just sank. Didn't hear any coughing either.
He was under water maybe 3 seconds? 5? It happened so quickly. The instructor was extremely nonchalant about it. My heart was racing so I just asked my son if he wanted to come out, he said no, he finished class. My son can't say if he swallowed water or what. He moved on from it quick but I am still freaking out a bit.
One, do I need to worry about dry or secondary drowning enough to take him to the hospital tonight? Or just watch for symptoms?
Two, should I follow up with swim class about this? Instructors should be paying attention to these kids shouldn't they? I feel like he shouldn't have struggled long enough for me to feel the need to stand and hurry down there. I didn't watch as I walked, I was trying to focus on getting there fast.

Dear Doctor,
I am an 18-year-old male seeking your advice regarding persistent symptoms. About 16 days ago, I experienced a normal cold with symptoms including a sore throat, hoarse voice, headaches, and stomach pain. After 4-6 days, the cold symptoms subsided, but I continued to have a very hard and constant cough producing green mucus, a sore throat, hoarse voice, and a completely blocked right ear.
I visited a doctor who prescribed the following medications:

• Moxifloxacin (400mg once a day) - Day 5
• Nasacort AQ (once a day) - Day 7
• Phenadone (twice a day) - Day 10
• Seretide Accuhaler Diskus (twice a day) - Day 10
• Polymer Adult Hypertonic 3% (twice a day) - Day 5

Currently, the green mucus cough has gone away, but I still have a cough (less frequent but still constant). Sometimes it is a dry cough, and other times it is a bit wet, though not producing green mucus anymore. Additionally, I still have a hoarse voice and a sore throat, particularly when swallowing water. I also still have a blocked right ear, although it has opened once or twice recently but closed back up within seconds.
Could you please help me understand what might be causing these persistent symptoms and advise on the next steps I should take?

I am an 18M seeking your advice regarding persistent symptoms. About 16 days ago, I experienced a normal cold with symptoms including a sore throat, hoarse voice, headaches, and stomach pain. After 4-6 days, the cold symptoms subsided, but I continued to have a very hard and constant cough producing green mucus, a sore throat, hoarse voice, and a completely blocked right ear.
I visited a doctor who prescribed the following medications:

• Moxifloxacin (400mg once a day) - Day 5 (prescribed for 7 days)
• Nasacort AQ (once a day) - Day 7 (Full course finished)
• Nexium (once a day) - Day 7 (Full course finished)
• Ganaton (three times a day) - Day 7 (Full course finished)
• Phenadone (twice a day) - Day 10 (Full course finished)
• Seretide Accuhaler Diskus (twice a day) - Day 10 (Full course finished)
• Polymer Adult Hypertonic 3% (twice a day) - Day 5 (prescribed for 10 days)

Currently, the green mucus cough has gone away, but I still have a cough (less frequent but still constant). Sometimes it is a dry cough, and other times it is a bit wet, though not producing green mucus anymore. Additionally, I still have a hoarse voice and a sore throat, particularly when swallowing water. I also still have a blocked right ear, although it has opened once or twice recently but closed back up within seconds.
Could you please help me understand what might be causing these persistent symptoms and advise on the next steps I should take?

I am an 18M seeking your advice regarding persistent symptoms. About 16 days ago, I experienced a normal cold with symptoms including a sore throat, hoarse voice, headaches, and stomach pain. After 4-6 days, the cold symptoms subsided, but I continued to have a very hard and constant cough producing green mucus, a sore throat, hoarse voice, and a completely blocked right ear.
I visited a doctor who prescribed the following medications:

• Moxifloxacin (400mg once a day) - Day 5 (prescribed for 7 days)
• Nasacort AQ (once a day) - Day 7 (Full course finished)
• Nexium (once a day) - Day 7 (Full course finished)
• Ganaton (three times a day) - Day 7 (Full course finished)
• Phenadone (twice a day) - Day 10 (Full course finished)
• Seretide Accuhaler Diskus (twice a day) - Day 10 (Full course finished)
• Polymer Adult Hypertonic 3% (twice a day) - Day 5 (prescribed for 10 days)

Currently, the green mucus cough has gone away, but I still have a cough (less frequent but still constant). Sometimes it is a dry cough, and other times it is a bit wet, though not producing green mucus anymore. Additionally, I still have a hoarse voice and a sore throat, particularly when swallowing water. I also still have a blocked right ear, although it has opened once or twice recently but closed back up within seconds.
Could you please help me understand what might be causing these persistent symptoms and advise on the next steps I should take?

“Take your time, young one,” Matron Devesh offered a smile, a great drawing together of the mass of wrinkles and deep lines worn into her face. “Choose wisely, and the stone will serve you well.”
Tamlin reached for the three stones perched on velvet cushions set before the Matron. His hand shook.
The Matron’s next words gave him pause.
“But choose poorly, and the stone will be your doom.”
His skin drew tight with anxiety, and beads of sweat sprung out over his body. Every eye in the village was upon him, gathered in a blur of faces around the center green, everyone counting on him to make the right choice. But which should he choose, red, blue or green?
He let his hand fall back to his side and studied the stones.
Red was his favorite color, and staring at the stone in the sunlight, he was drawn deep into its facets, endless and mesmerizing the way the gem caught the sun’s fire in a mystical swirl of flashes and sparks. He reached for it, but something felt off, like a faint itch beneath the skin that warned of danger. No, red was all wrong.
Disappointment filled him, and he nearly chose the red stone despite that ringing instinct, but then he remembered the Matron’s words.
Tamlin drew back, and his eyes slid to the blue stone, deep and fathomless like the sea. He reached for it but hesitated, glancing up at the Matron and licking lips gone suddenly dry.
Was this the one?
She gazed at him with an expression of mild interest but betrayed no sign of whether she thought the blue stone was the right choice. Perhaps he was wrong? Was it the green? He had only one chance and had to be sure.
His hand inched closer to the blue stone, his palm sweaty and stomach abuzz. He had nearly touched it when the same itch crawled to life under his skin, and he drew his hand away. Doubt warred within him. What if no matter which stone he chose, he was wrong? What if that was the point? Was this a test? He almost asked the Matron as much but thought better of it.
Tamlin looked around at the crowd of anxious faces, some holding their hands out as if they meant to help him choose. No help there either.
He looked back at the stones, red, blue, and finally, his eyes settled on the green, so vivid that he was sure someone must have captured all the color of the forests and held it within the gem. Radiant, it was, shimmering with a million miniature suns. Warmth gathered in his fingertips and flowed up his hand and into his arm as he reached for the stone. A distant song filled his ears, a siren's call from faraway lands, distant forests, a place shrouded in magic and mystery. The heat grew into a fever, so warm he wanted to laugh. His finger brushed the stone, and he knew his destiny; he saw it all so clearly in rapid flashes behind his eyes.
He chose the green stone, and the Matron smiled.
“Wise and selfless,” she said. “You will make a powerful healer.”
The stone rose from its cushion to hover a few inches from Tamlin’s face.
Tamlin drew back from it and glanced at the Matron. “What‘s happening?”
“The Bonding.” She lifted a gnarled hand and pointed with a shriveled finger. “Attend the stone.”
Tamlin returned his eyes to the stone and started to ask what the Matron meant but was interrupted. It shot forward and burrowed itself into the center of his forehead. He began to scream, knew he must, but realized with more than a little surprise that there was no pain. The same warmth as before suffused him, raced through his limbs and filled him with the purifying light of the stone. He burned with it, blazed like the sun.
“Now you are ready, young one,” he heard the Matron’s voice as if from a great distance and through a rush of wind and blinding light. “Now you must go. Your place is not here, it is out there in the world. Disease, pestilence. Poison of plant. Venom of fang. All will yield to your touch. No injury can withstand your light. Now go. Heal the world.”

PS4
Have Cultist eventide robes Decoy ducks Deep space alien power armor Dried wildflower bouquet Megatonyx display rack Mothman bug zapper Pepper shaker Peppered tenderizer mod plan Pepino pig Rotted steak plushie Sacred Mothman tome Safari gorilla backpack Spicy tenderizer mod plan Steak plushie Taxidermy mutant hound The Fixer Wise Mothman throne

My rescue dog Tank was 12 when he passed this week on Monday. I had him for over 10 years and he was my first dog that wasn’t a family dog my parents owned. I got him when I moved out and was on my own because my family dog ha passed away a year earlier and I was lonely and needed animal companionship.
When I got him from the dog shelter, he was in the back room where they have dogs who’ve already been at the shelter for over 30 days. Talking to the girls at the front desk, he’d been there for 43 days and their limit was 45 so he was scheduled to be put down. I rescued him the very next day after taking my roommate to meet him.
Tank was such an anxious boy and needed a lot of love in the beginning. I spent the first six weeks of his time with me coming home from work to clean out his crate from poop and pee because he was so scared and afraid he’d been left again by another owner. Eventually we built up so much trust that he would have a hard time leaving my side and would whine anxiously anytime he saw me or needed something.
Fast forward to this year. About four weeks ago he started coughing/hacking, which seemed off but it was the beginning of summer so I shrugged it off as allergies (which he had previously) and expected it would go away. Then he stopped eating his kibble, so I got new kibble. He wouldn’t eat that after a few days and so we switched to wet food. That’s okay, I thought, he’s 12 now so it’s probably gotten hard to chew hard food and he’s been picky in the past and I’ve bought wet food to help him eat. This too shall pass.
Three weeks ago, he stopped eating almost completely. He would nibble on the wet food and only really eat his dental treat at night because it was his routine. We had a vacation planned for three days and my boyfriend and I left him with my roommate, who said he still didn’t eat anything while we were away. I was concerned but also busy with work stuff and personal stuff so I assumed he was being picky and would start eating again soon.
One week ago, he still wouldn’t eat and I finally took him to the vet to get him checked out. We had our 6-month checkup in April so I expected it turn out to be a cold or we’d find that he’d eaten something he wasn’t supposed to that was making him sick.
The vet tells me he has cancer, they performed and x-ray and found a mass in his lungs. She thinks he’s not eating because the tumor in his lungs is pressing up on his larynx and making it hard to breathe. I’m devastated but the vet tells me there are options and we schedule a visit with an oncologist.
The oncologist tells us, after an ultrasound, that Tank has metastatic cancer and it’s in nearly all his organs (liver, kidneys, spleen, lung, etc.) and he probably has weeks or months to live if he starts eating. And if he doesn’t start eating, he likely has a week or so based on the timeline of events. The oncologist thinks he wasn’t eating because of stomach ulcers because he has had blood clots in his puke. We start him on GI protectants and appetite stimulants but I refuse the pain meds because Tank turns into a zombie when he takes them. I could tell he didn’t like being on them and he would space out for hours and not eat or drink anything so in my mind, that won’t help him eat so we put them off for now and the vet agrees it is a good idea.
This past Saturday and Sunday I took him on a short walk, I got him a blow-up pool to lay outside in, and we try to get him to eat anything at all. I tried seven different kinds of baby food, wet food, dry food, nothing works — except some smoked turkey from a local BBQ place, which he lets me hand feed him and he eats finally for the first time in weeks.
Monday comes around and I have to go to work because I took off Thursday and Friday and the work is piling up on me. Luckily I make the decision to work from home because I want to be here for him. Before I get on a call at 10, I give him some love and he’s laying on his pillow in the den when I go into my office. The call runs over till 10:45 because my coworker wants to cheer me up and we are bullshitting and catching up.
I get off the call and go outside to find Tank and he lying in the grass in an odd position, his neck slumped over a small drainage pipe in our backyard. I walk over and call his name and he takes a big gasp for air. I realize he’s not breathing normally, he chest is still, and I get down on the ground with him. He is gasping every few seconds and his neck is limp. I see his gums are no longer pink and I start screaming for my boyfriend to come outside and help me in desperation. I move his neck to try and hold him in my arms, not knowing what to do and not understanding that the end is near. He stops breathing completely after I move him and I realize he was probably laying like that just so he could breathe. The tumor had pushed on his larynx and cause it to be difficult to eat and I fear he suffocated in the end.
I regret so much. I didn’t take him to get care when he started showing signs of being sick. I didn’t give him pain meds even though he probably needed them. I wasn’t there to comfort him in his last moments, I was on some stupid work call that didn’t matter. Instead of being there and calming him and helping him to pass peacefully, I was screaming for help and trying to comprehend what was happening to him.
The place he passed was right outside the window of my office. Friends and family keep saying he was waiting for me and that he took his last breaths with me because he was holding out for me. I am still conflicted on this because I don’t want him to be in pain but I also am glad I was able to be there for his final breaths
I keep replaying that moment in my head, over and over again. All I can think of since then is that I killed my dog. I didn’t give him pain medication so he probably suffocated to death or died because his brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen or because he was literally starving to death.
This hurts so much not because he is dead but because I fear he passed in pain, alone, and gasping for air while I was on some stupid call for work.
Did I make the wrong decision to not give him pain meds? Did he know I loved him in the end? Would he forgive me for my mistakes and still love me unconditionally? Did I kill my dog?
My heart is broken and I can’t think straight. I just got his ashes back today and I don’t know how I’ll ever move on from this.
I’m so sorry, Tank. I love you buddy and I miss you so much, it hurts so much. I’m sorry I didn’t prioritize your care. I hope you can forgive me. I hope you know how important to me you were and still are. I will never, ever forget you. ❤️ You will always be my stinker boy.

I (21F) and my bf (25M) have been together for 7 ish months. We both met on tinder and it was love at first site and I can say he’s treated me better than I could have ever imagined. The only thing that is bothering me is that when we first got together and I basically just moved in (I just started staying with him a lot and now a bunch of my stuff is here), I decided to deep clean for him out of generosity. I found his exes panties under the bed with dried cm, and confronted him, telling him it was gross and how I felt abt it. This was at 2 months of dating. At the time, he still had like all of her belongings present and claimed he just didn’t think about getting rid of it. Fast forward, last week (about 7 months in), I was cleaning up in the closet, and there were boxes in there because he moved here before he met me and just had not unpacked them yet. I was obviously curious as to what was in the boxes. Like, if it was clothes I was gonna wash them and put them away, etc. Well, he moved in a hurry and had just a bunch of stuff in this box, including more panties from his ex with dried cm on them. I’m quite upset about this as it feels like he either didn’t care or was stuck on her? I feel like he just wasn’t ready for another relationship. He’s upset that i found something like that. I can’t tell if im overreacting or not.

This is a book I started writing in like 2021 and stopped working on until recently. I'd love some feedback on whether I should continue with it or not, please let me know what you think.
Also keep in mind this is a first draft, and I am no Stephen King.
Intro/Chapter One

I walked down the alabaster hall, fluorescent lights flickering as I approach the exit. It’d been nine months since I’ve seen the outside of the compound, I knew life would never be the same but I had to try to live to some amount of normalcy again. I’d already gathered my belongings from the security room at the northwest of the building. I had stayed in a less invasive portion of the building, living alongside people who had a mental breakdown much like they claimed I suffered, or people that never had sanity, to begin with. Sometimes I could hear the screams and threats to the staff from some of the more, let's say unstable residents of the clinic. I played the psychiatrist's game of sanity. I had to, there was no other option. No one would ever believe what really happened. At first, I’d used my limited computer time to research the haunted woods of Colorado. But I soon learned that only fed into my so-called insanity. Walking down the bland hallway, I thought about my research. There had been reports, but that’s all they were. The old myths and tales had mostly been in eastern Canada and the regions of the great plane, nothing stating that IT lived as far west as my encounter. I laughed to myself, calling it, IT when I knew what it really was now. I knew fairly early, but naming the beast IT left out enough context that people assumed I was talking about a wildlife incident. By playing charades like this long enough I was able to buy my freedom to the sane world. “This is it, Mr. Patel. You’ve come a long way, and..” I cut off the mental institution’s nurse by grabbing my belongings from him that he so kindly offered to carry for me. In reality, he snatched them up as soon as I’d checked them out from security. He pushed the door open, and the bright morning autumn light temporarily blinded me. I could see them standing at the end of the walkway, red and yellow leaves dancing across the ground as I slowly made my way towards my spouse and our daughter, golden hair shining in the light. 

Chapter one: The silent drive.

Markus made his way down the Rocky Mountains, slowly creeping along in his old Jeep Wrangler as the snow crunched beneath the chains. Only a few more hours and he’d reach his destination, a cold dark cabin in the wooded mountains of Colorado. He remembered going there maybe twice as a child, but since his father's heart failure he hadn’t really had contact with that side of the family. As the engine hummed along the mountain, he was on all but autopilot. Thirty-two years old and this is where life had landed him. Marital separation, no real career, no real family outside of the one he’d created with his wife and daughter. Had it really been that long since his father's passing? His so-called father was ten years and change older than he was now when he died of heart failure, but Markus supposed that’s what happens when you have genetic heart failure and you spent your life drinking and smoking. No one was really surprised when he passed, some had even been prepared for it. As for his mother's side, he never knew his grandparents and had only met his Aunt once or twice. Jen or Jenna? Jessica? Markus shook his head, “Focus Markus. Focus. Ice, snow, mountain. Pay attention.” It’d been a long drive and an even longer week. Markus couldn’t blame Elizabeth for wanting a separation. He hadn’t been great to her the last few years. He’d taken his failures and problems out on her. He was borderline abusive, he’d never hit her, but lord sometimes she made it so damn hard. He’d already felt like a failure, he didn’t need her pointing it out. He never really decided what to do with his life, sure he fell in love young, and had a beautiful daughter but there was still a hole missing out of his life. He never really could put his finger on it, was it a career he never decided on, dropping out of high school, falling out with his mother? The list could go on and on. He reached the old two-bedroom cabin just a few hours before dusk. The old, decrepit building hadn’t had visitors in more than a couple of years. The last person he knew of staying there was his father's mother, Gina. Grandma G made more of an effort to include him in the family than his father had, even going as far as to write birthday letters to him and have his father sign them as a child. After she disappeared, the cabin gained shared ownership by his father and siblings. The cabin was the last known place she had been, but there was no evidence of foul play. She was never found, even after the search parties and wildlife rangers had searched for days. But just like her father, no one was astounded she went missing. Dementia had really been setting in, even though no one thought it would be near bad enough for her to wander out into the woods by herself. Markus walked up to the front door, unlocking it using the key stuck under a fake rock next to the withered “Home sweet home” welcome mat. He could barely make out the words of the old piece of hemp, he wasn’t sure why it bothered him so bad. He was sure the only reason this old log hadn’t been broken into was due to the remote location. A thirty-minute drive to the closest grocery outlet, if you can even call it that, was the closest thing around. Markus practically walked into the door, expecting it to swing open. Between the ancient wood of the door and the ungreased hinges, It wouldn’t budge. He pulled up on the handle and pushed with his shoulder muttering, “Son of…” before the hinges gave way and he crashed onto the floor. He felt like laying on the cold, dusted ground forever. Just giving up and withering away like the old mat outside. “This is fine, just dandy. Go get me a beer already,” he said to no one in particular. He rose and brushed the floor dust from his old worn jeans, making his way to the ivory light switch. He stood in darkness, growing increasingly frustrated as he flicked the lifeless switch up and down. “That’s the problem with the old houses,” Markus said to the empty air. He walked out the front and around the north side of the old cabin, continuing along the side as he ran his fingers down the old wood until he reached the meter-main combo panel outside. He was less than shocked but still displeased to see the fuses had blown. “Where did they keep that box of fuses?” He quizzed himself. Eventually, Markus found them in a wood crate on the top shelf of the shed, which wasn’t in any better shape than the living quarters. The eight-by-five wood structure barely stood by itself anymore. The old window panes cracked and 

spiderwebbed, paint peeling and a few shingles slightly flapping in the wind.

Markus threw his last bag on the dining room table like a teenager coming home from the first week of school. It was a relief to finally be at the spine-chilling old cabin, with power on and belongings inside. The fire crackling in the stone hearth gave more light to the interior than the old yellow light bulbs. So far the only thing to go right had been the log left in the fireplace, Markus was even close to the corner of his lip raising when he saw the dry kindle ready to be lit. The sun would be setting soon, and if he wanted Devil's water before the natural light had completely dwindled he’d have to leave very soon. He was thirsty as if he had been stuck in the Southern Utah desert all his life. Except the only way to quench the thirst was to down ten or eleven bottles of cheap beer, just enough to remember the night before in the morning. Markus had learned his limited, twelve or thirteen drinks and he’d lose his dinner, fourteen or fifteen and he’d lose his ability to recall the events that followed. He’d never really been a fan of liquor, his favorite was “mid-shelf” beer. Markus grabbed his fluffy blue coat and headed out to the Jeep. 

Chapter two: The Warning.
The Jeep pulled up to John’s Gas and Grocery, the decades-old building was little more than a glorified Grocery outlet and petrol pumps that had to be from the mid-eighties. He braved the cold, pulling the collar of the well-used coat against the wind. A stereotypical ding-dong sounded when he opened the door, boots squelching on the false tile flooring. He nodded to the old man at the register, who merely looked up from a leather-bound book. Markus knew exactly what he needed, he grabbed a cart for all the essentials: three cases of beer, one box of twinkies, one box of ding-dongs, and his favorite, Oatmeal cream pies which he’d grabbed several boxes of. He grabbed the fattiest meat the small store had as well, the ancient old remedy of greasy food for hangovers.

He approached the register, “five bundles of kindle too, please.” The old Native American simply stared at him for a moment too long. “Awful lot of junk food for a camping trip in the snow, don’t you think?” Markus replied politely, “I’m staying at my family's cabin over the ridge on Fendore Drive for a few weeks, you’ll probably see me a few more times.”Mmm,” The old man hummed. “John Raymond,” said the old man in a raspy voice, sticking out his hand. Markus accepted the handshake, “Mark,” he replied. The old man wasn’t satisfied with that answer, tilting his head forward slightly and raising his bushy eyebrows. “Markus Patel. Friends called me Mark,” he had said with disinterest in sharing his full name. “Good strong handshake, says a lot about a man. Strong, yet caring and sensitive. No?” John asked quizzically. “If only that were true,” Markus said just loud enough to hear. John slid the items across the scanner, hardly taking an eye off Markus. “You ought to be careful around these trees. ‘Specially at night, wild animals and whatnot.” John warned Markus, almost winking at the end of his sentence. Markus wondered what exactly this old Ute was getting onto. “And what not?” 

“Some believe these woods are cursed. Call it a witch, or a demon. I’ve heard people talkin’. When you live as long as I do, you hear things spread around.” John almost seemed cautious about his words. Markus wanted to pry more, “And what do you believe, Mr. Raymond?” John Raymond petted an imaginary beard, “I believe that these woods are dangerous, ‘specially after dark. Be safe out there.”
“Well I appreciate the warning, but I don’t really believe in the whole ‘bigfoot’ thing,” Markus intercepted, using his fingers to quote bigfoot. “Have a good night, Mr. Raymond.”

Markus could feel the old man's eyes on him as he made his way back to the Jeep parked out front. After setting his delicious treasures on the passenger seat, Markus plucked five bundles of wood from the stack in front of the windows of the store. He felt unnerved, looking into the blackness beyond the store's light bleeding from the parking lot and beyond the pumps. He scoffed, feeling stupid for letting an old man's warnings get to him. “No such thing as Bigfoot,” Markus mumbled as he slammed his Jeep’s trunk shut. By the time Markus got to the turnpike that eventually led to the old dirt path, it had grown dark. The still night air had something whimsical about it. The pines were blanketed in a layer of untouched white powder, the only impressions in the snow beside his tire tracks were the occasional deer print. As serene as the woods were, only lit by moonlight reflecting off the frozen ground, Markus still felt somewhat uneasy. The old man named John had gotten to him to some amount, but Markus would never admit that, not even to himself. 

He pulled the now ticking Jeep up to the creepy old wood structure, as close as he could to the entrance. The light barely bled through the old dirty windows, giving the cabin a haunted look. Markus wondered to himself why he ever wanted to come out to this frozen wasteland, he only had fleeting memories of this place but when Elizabeth asked for a separation, this was the first place that came to mind. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought made him feel uneasy. Markus sat in the Jeep as it grew colder without the climate control on, wondering how this had ever happened. When they married, he was a happy young man with the world in front of him. Somewhere along the way, he grew into a bitter developing drunk. Maybe it was the torment of work, every job he had seemed to be worse than the last, his most recent job working as a grunt at a well-known manufacturing plant had proven to be the worst so far. Not only did he not have companionship with his fellow workers, but they also belittle him. They refused training and would treat him like a dog that had peed on the living room rug. He was tired of being belittled and tired of his rock bottom life.

The first thing Markus did upon entering the Cabin was crack a still cold beer, and opening a package of twinkies. After almost swallowing a Twinkie full, he finally had the strive to throw a log into the fireplace and bring warmth to the room. 

Markus cursed himself after forgetting to open the flu, the room beginning to fill with the foggy appearance of smoke. Though it didn’t bother him enough to forget about his T.V. Dinner he felt as though that was one more thing he failed at. As if the great being in the sky was keeping a tally of every little mistake he’d made, and punished him tenfold.
“One, three, five, six, seven…” Markus quietly counted the empty bottles stacking up around the chair which sat next to the warm fireplace. “A reckon I’ve earned one more, or a few,” he told the walls, as he raised a bottle in salute to himself. The next thing he remembers was waking up in the shallow cot, rolling over to see the time on his cellphone which was little more than a clock in the wilderness. “3:30.” The words rattled out of his mouth like a mummy. As soon as he lay his head back on the pillow, the world spun around him and he heaved himself out of bed, making a beeline for the bathroom, narrowly making it to the toilet before projectile vomiting violently. The unpleasant mix of preservative pastry treats and cheap alcohol filled his taste buds as they had two hours earlier. Markus awoke on the cold hard ground of the bathroom sometime later, the sun just starting to peek over the trees of the late winter morning. There was an uneasy stillness in the air, something that felt like watching a car come barreling towards you while you sat in your still parked car, time seemed to slow moments before the collision.

Using the dwindling strength that was left, shaking from low blood sugar and an empty stomach, Markus pulled himself up using the sink. He stared at himself through a dirty mirror, his brown hair in a mop and stubble growing steadily on his face. He looked like death, with dark circles under his blue eyes. He always used to keep his hair short and neat, always clean-shaven except for the weekends when he could finally cut loose and not worry about a professional-looking demeanor. Bent over the short sink ached his back, probably from sleeping on the ground he noted mentally. Standing up straight and stretching his stiff back, cracking like a bullwhip. His hairline met the top of the mirror, he wasn’t intensely tall but six foot two was enough to miss the sight of his moppy hair in the reflective glass. 

Markus made his way out to his bag, still sitting on the dining room table. Fumbling with the zipper, he pulled out a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers, Dry swallowing a few. The small bundle of soft pine he had put in the fireplace before losing consciousness had burned out hours ago, the dead cold of the Colorado winter eating away the coals. Markus wondered how cold it must be in the old building, he could almost see his breath, so he figured it had to have been close to thirty-two. The firewood he had bought wasn’t lasting long, it’d probably had something to do with the low-grade softwood it had been cut out of. He remembered the four years of woodshop he’d taken in high school, Markus’s mind started to wander in his hungover state. “That table wouldn’t be so wobbly if they’d use a biscuit joint for the legs. It’s probably from some long-ago closed IKEA, nothing but cheap screws holding it together. If Elizabeth ends up wanting a full-blown divorce, she doesn’t get my table. Best thing I ever made. African walnut, curly maple..waterfall Bubinga. Now that was a work of art. No metal holding it together, just glue and its weight from the hand-carved joints.”
Once coming back to reality, Markus decided he’d better go out and cut some fresh wood. He’d seen an old ax in the shed, he’d cut enough to last the whole winter and stack it up on the side of the cabin. He was determined to exert physical effort now and not have to later. The ax had to have been from the sixties or seventies, it was practically ancient. The old steel was slightly rusted and the handle, a hardwood with a slight curve, he figured it was probably from a German manufacturer. At some distant point, he’d been in love with making knives. He used his woodworking skills to make handles for the full tang blades. “Always full tang, anything less is cheap garbage,” his metal shop teacher’s voice rang in his ears. Those were the days when life was simple. The biggest worry he had was how he was going to play hooky so he could go up Rock Canyon with his buddies. They’d studied the Canyon, after all, it was where prolific serial killer Ted Bundy killed some of his victims.

Markus had been chopping old trees for about three hours, sweat dripping down his brow despite the biting cold, every so often stopping to bite his tongue and breathe so he didn’t lose the remaining contents of his stomach. Maybe he didn’t have the stamina to chop a year's worth of wood after all, but all he needed was enough to last him the time he spent here and he was determined. 

Swinging the sharp heavy tool at a diagonal angle once, twice, three times more and the tree fell. “Finally!” He screamed, It must have been forty-five minutes since he worked on this pine.
Blood-curdling screams of a young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, Markus swung around with the ax clutched to his chest, ready to chop for his own life. Slowly and cautiously striding forward, scanning the trees for any sign of duress Markus made his way into the shaded forest. He came upon a sight, something brown crumpled on the frozen earth. The closer he got, the more sense it made. White antlers blended with the backdrop of snow, invisible from a distance. Blood soaked the white powder around the unmoving beast, it was a brutal sight Markus had only seen in nature documentaries. Using the head of the ax, Markus turned to the head of the murdered deer, its throat ripped out clean. Blood still poured from the open wound, staining the fur a sickly onyx. “Cougar..” Markus carefully scanned his surroundings, before setting his eyes back on the buck. He’d never been hunting, but it was on his bucket list. He’d always wanted a nice rack to hang up on his office wall when he finally had enough money to buy a house with an office. He took a mental note to come back later with a saw and collect the bounty, approximately fifty feet due northeast of the Cabin.

Returning to the Cabin felt like a desolate trip through a never ending frozen waste land, What couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen minutes felt like days. 

Pulling the wet, dirty boots off brought relief. “Now all I need is a ding-dong and a beer. Maybe I should start some fire up before I settle in though,” the words rang through the empty cabin. Markus told himself he didn’t know what the purpose of him talking to himself was, but deep down in his still beating heart he knew. He knew it was the only thing keeping him sane, keeping him from losing his mind and running out into the trees only to be eaten by some unseen beast. Absentmindedly throwing the last of his gas station wood into the hearth, his thoughts continued to wonder about the growing insanity inside his mind's eye. His voice echoed in his own head, ‘Could this be what happened to Gina? Coming out to get some R and R and losing her mind, or what was left of it at least? All this stress I'm carrying, could I lose my mind?’
Throwing a match on the kindling, flame burst to life, light dancing on the dark corners of the Cabin. The uneasy feeling had steadily been growing, something dark, something mysterious, something...Unknown.
Chapter Three: The visitor
“Come out Markie. Come out to me baby,” Elizabeth’s voice rang out, echoing from all around. Markus was blankly facing his bedroom door, but quickly turned in all directions looking for the voice. His eyes searched frantically, scanning everywhere until he saw a dark shape beyond the living room window, standing in the frozen earth with arms outstretched. Nothing but a silhouette in the dark, Markus ran for the front door to meet with the dark shape that couldn’t possibly be her. The harder he ran the further to the front door became, pushing his physical limits until his lungs felt like molten rock. If you could just get there, just hold his dear Eliza, everything would be alright. He could come home, make pancakes for her and their beautiful little Judy as small flakes of snow fell outside. He could find a new job that paid more and gave him more time at home with them...He could make things alright.
The door slowly opened, letting in the cold night air, just as it gently touched the wall, coming to full dilation he almost flew from the building, falling on his hands and knees, the icy ground scratching up his hands and knees. The pain was irrelevant, he had to get to his Eliza at all costs. He looked up, her white nightgown shining in the moonlight. Standing in front of him was what looked like his beloved wife, but it wasn’t Elizabeth. It was some misformed specter, something unnatural and mutated from a personal hell. He stared, looking at the grotesque representation of his wife, her nose had been chewed off, leaving nothing but a bloody nasal cavity, bits of cartilage and skin hanging off of it. Her right iris seemed to be stuck in the corner of her eye, trying to come to focus in front of her, red and bloody. Her skin was an ashy gray, withered and rotten from decades gone past. Her white gown made the skin of the creature look more off color than it probably was. The smell of death and rotten meat filled his nostrils. The false Elizabeth reached out her hand to caress his cheek, “Come home Markie, “ Blood and bile pouring from her mouth, “Come home,” A dark, devilish voice seemed to slither out of her mouth past the blood, the black liquid covering her white night gown in the moonlight. The voice that was hers and not hers at all the same time, rattled his brain, making him feel an internal earthquake in his head. Her outstretched fingers looked like gray rotten carrots, wrinkled past the point of recognition, the knuckles sticking out of the flesh like giant tumors, fingernails that had more of a resemblance to claws than actual nails. Slowly, the creature's Icy cold fingers gently make contact with his face, gently brushing his cheek.
Markus sat up in his cot screaming, soaking with sweat as if he’d gone swimming. Savagely scanning the room, he wiped the sweat from his eyes. It had been a dream, some awful rendition of his mind. Markus bent his knees up, resting his forehead on them and wrapping his arms around everything, he stayed in an upright fetal position until the first signs of light breached the windows. Convinced he’d never sleep again, he stumbled out into the living area and straight to the coffee maker he’d brought.
Markus sat in his lawn chair perched on the porch, sipping coffee in the cold, still morning. He hadn’t noticed the small white animal camouflaged in the snow until the caffeine had taken hold and he was able to clear his eyes of the night's salty sweat from constantly rubbing them. Curiously, he arose and approached the small crumpled fluff on the ground. “Peter cotton tail would be wise to stay out of Mr. McGregor’s garden. The cougar might catch you,” Markus said to the small rabbit who lay dead on the ice. He picked it up by the back foot, wishing for some good luck but somehow knowing he was far from it. The bloody fur stuck to the morning freeze, making a sick ripping sound as he pulled it upwards. “Lord..” Markus mumbled as the animal slowly spun by its foot. Whatever had gotten the little thing has disemboweled it, using scalpel and surgeon-like precision to cut from the jugular down the length of the body. Markus could see the entrails still intact, thanks to the freezing temperatures everything had hardened in place overnight. Crusted and Frozen blood hung onto the rabbit like a tick, even as Markus gently walked deep into the tree line. Tossing the dead animal into a bush some ten feet away, it landed with a solid thud. Markus returned to the crime scene, frozen blood still staining the white earth. “What kind of animal kills a rabbit like this and just leaves it? It had to have been that cougar, and something spooked it off. Right? Yeah, that’s it. Maybe something bigger, like a bear.” Markus knew he was lying to himself but just to be sure, he searched the area for tracks. Hopeful in finding giant cat prints, he found nothing but his own. There wasn’t even a sign of rabbit tracks, a phenomenon completely unnatural, however Markus chalked it up to sleep exhaustion and too much alcohol the night before. That was the only explanation.

Grabbing the keys off the table and making his way to his Jeep, Markus put the keys in the ignition, the metal beast jolting to life. He worried the tires would be frozen to the ground, but even if they were the vehicle moved with ease, rolling down the tree lined path towards John’s Gas and Grocery. Sometime later he arrived at the failed attempt at a gas-n-shop store. Markus jumped at the store’s bell as he pushed the door open, the owner John staring at him with interest as to why the living dead person who mysteriously drifted into town almost a week prior was stumbling through his door. “Friend, are you still living?” Markus blankly stared at the Native man, for the first time taking in the person he’d made contact with. Markus abscently thought, ‘This man is ancient. How old could he possibly be?” 

John, growing tired of the blank expression on Markus’s face, told him to come near. Markus did what he was told, nearing the wrinkled leathery face of the old man. “What have you seen?” John asked Markus, studying his copper features. “Uhm...What?” Markus stammered. ‘Brilliant, show the old man your intelligence level like you didn’t get past the eight grade,’ Markus thought to himself, admittingly a little harsh on himself.
“In the forrest. Have you seen anything?” John’s eyes seemed to pierce Markus’s soul. “I mean, the was a dead buck, and then this morning the was a dead rabbit.” Markus replied, as if he were on some wildlife observation trip. “You’re holding out on me, young man,” John said with an eir of scolding. Markus chuckled, “Young man? John i’m thirty-two.”
“And to me you’ll always be a young man. So what of the trees?”
Markus felt as though John was attempting to take him under his wing as a new born robin. “I heard a woman scream in the woods, while I was chopping kindle. Figured it must have been a cougar,” Markus said. “Mmmm,” John hummed. “Come for more cheep beer than?”
Markus was borderline offended, “What of it? I could drive into town if you’d like, buy my drinks there.”
“You are welcome to do as you please, Mark. I was talking about getting something a little nicer though. I could swing by after I close up, bring some food and something to drink that settles a little easier than off brand beer. Be around at 8:30?”
“Woah, whats the occasion?” Markus teased the old man, wondering if John thought they were long lost friends.
“No occasion, I knew Gina. I’d like to come see the old place, if you’d be alike to that.”
“How’d you know I was related to Gina?” Markus asked narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“I have lived in this town for sixty-five years. I remember when that Cabin was built, a matter of fact I worked at the hardware store when your grands’ would come in for supplies. I was only fourteen or fifteen at the time. After the town started to dry up in the seventies, the store shut her doors for good.” John seemed to stare into the distance, reminiscing about years gone past.
Markus seemed somewhat surprised, “I had no idea there was anything more than your store out here. What happened to the town?”
“Well a combination of things make the town die, they were supposed to build a sub-highway that came right through here. After they decided to move it south, travelers stopped coming through this way. Thats the reason I tell every traveler that comes through here.”
Markus Mused, “So what else killed the town, and why is your store still here?”
“Well I get just enough people come through to keep my doors open, usually old timers like myself that know a short cut around the city. That or people looking for a true backwoods adventure. I always tell them to move on, this isn’t the kind of place they want to spend the night, It can be hostile you know.”
“I see. But you only answered one of my questions.” Markus seemed to be prying for something John was pretending wasn’t there.
“As I said Mark, these woods can be hostile. As you’ve seen, theres things in these woods you don’t want to cross. Some travelers listen, some don’t, and some aren’t again seen after they leave these door.”
“Ah, I see. You’re going to kill me then,” Markus said with a wink. John chuckled, “I haven’t quite made up my mind on that.”
“Well in that case, i’ll take fifteen on the pump,” Markus smiled for the first time in a long time, he thought it may have been weeks, maybe even months since he had really smiled.

Markus and John sat on the cold patio, sipping on some exceptionally smooth whiskey John had brought, and seemed eager to share. “So,” Markus said, shifting in his seat to face John while fluffing up against his coat. “How’d you know I was related to Gina?” 

“Well Mark, as I said I’ve been around a long time. This little ol’ cabin is the only residence in the area so there was some buzz around town when your grands decided to build.”
Markus seemed puzzled, this seemed like prime real estate. “Why hasn’t anyone else ever build here?”
“Many have tried and have failed. You can still find abandoned materials or sometimes foundation if you look hard enough in the right places. How Gina and Frank ever got this place built and habitibal is nothing short of a miracle.”
Markus seemed slightly confused, and he wondered if it was because of lack of knowledge or the healthy buzz he was gaining from the top shelf alcohol. “So all these people just abandoned their properties? It couldn’t be the winters, I mean it’s bitter cold out here but not uninhabitable. The summers are probably quite pleasant...The wild life? No, they say Bears and Cougars would just as well leave you alone. Maybe it was economic hardship, and they bared through long enough to finally get it completely built.” Markus seemed to be using vocal deductive reasoning at this point, rather than for conversation.
“As I said, some believe these woods to be cursed. But as I recall, you don’t believe in Bigfoot. Isn’t that right?” John seemed to tease Mark who felt like he was gently swaying with the breeze. John didn’t seemed to be phased by the liquor at all though, it made Markus wonder if he was a lightweight after all.
“Right, I don’t believe because there isn’t such thing.” Markus said, with an eir of matter-of-fact. “Mmmm,” John mummed again. “But you believe in Gigantopithicus, no?”
Markus stammered, “Giganto-what-icus? John, this alcohol is weighing on me, you’re gonna have to make sense.”
John smiled warmly, “Gigantopithicus. It was a large ape-like animal that went extinct a few thousand years ago, native to the same area’s people claim to see Bigfoot. Do you think it’s possible a small population survived extinction? Or perhaps stories of the beasts when they existed amongs men survived through generations of story telling. What do you think, Mark?” Markus stared at John, peicing together what he said. It actually made sense to him though, if there had really been a gigantic ape like creature that roamed the earth, wouldn’t either option be possible?
“Or perhaps the werewolf, who some speculate originated by what’s known as ‘werewolf syndrome.’ A normal man, like you and I, but he grows hair on every inch of his body, catches something like rabies and makes him go, well, rabid.” John seemed like he was trying to get a point across, Markus just didn’t know what.
“So you’re trying to tell me, I giant ape and a rabid hairy guy are running around out here?” Markus said, confusion marking his tipsy face.
“I think you missing the point son, the point is every myth has an origin. Some are more real than you’d like they could be.” John started to grow serious.

They sat for sometime however, pondering on what was said. Eventually John broke the silence, “I wasn’t part of the search party for Gina.” John said, sorrow aging his face even further. 

“Me neither,” Markus said, taking another drink. The cold liquid burning down his throat, making him feel a foux warmth.
“I knew they wouldn’t find her, Markus. They never find the lost in these woods. Why didn’t you come to aid?” John asked.
“I know I should have. It would have been the right thing to do, and Gina deserved it. I guess the reason isn’t because of her, I’m resentful to the rest of her family.” Markus started to grow cold, starting from his soul.
“You know, family is all we have. It may be worth making amends before it’s too late.”
Markus thought about these words from John, he was right. Not about his fathers side of the family but about the family he’s created with Elizabeth and Judy. Elizabeth, Markus visibly shivered, remembering his dream.
“You’re right. But are they still family if they pretend like you don’t exist? And then the only time you do exist is when you’re the butt of their joke? I’m sorry, I just don’t believe they’re anything more than a gene pool to me. But Elizabeth and Judy, they’re what matters.” Markus could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, remembering going to Gina’s and Noah, his uncle, telling the then eight year old Markus to sit down and shut the hell up or so help him. Then there was the time at the family Christmas party he sat on the outskirts of the room, ignored by all, he hadn’t even wanted to go but his mother thought it was important for him to try and exist to that side of the family. Another stretch of awkward silence followed, both men pretended like it didn’t exist by sipping on their liquor.

What broke the silence was the slightest sound of a twig snap, it would have been an invisible noise if it weren’t for the silence. John’s eyes snapped in that direction, immediately breaking into a cold sweat. “It’s alright John, it’s probably just a rabbit or something. No such thing as Bigfoot, remember?” Markus smiled, trying to lighten the sudden heaviness in the air. 

“Yes, you’re right. Jumpy I suppose,” John said, sitting back into his seat, and rocking himself forward into a standing position. “I best be getting on my way,” John said, eager to exit.
Markus seemed confused, “Are you sure? Your company has been really nice, and I could use my friends right now.”
“I’ll come back in a few days, probably sometime in the morning…” John trailed off, staring into the tree line.
Chapter Four: Hunting

Markus woke up in an upright sweat, his eyes looking around widely. The blinding white light was peaking its way through the old floral curtains, hurting his eyes. Something had woken him up in a startle. Was it a dream? Was he still in the cabin? Had his wife wanted to separate? Yes, Markus told himself. It’s all real, as badly as he wanted all of it to be a bad dream, this was reality. 

BANG BANG.
Within a split second, Markus was on the floor reaching under the bed, pulling out a long black case. He hadn’t seen the gun case but he knew his grandmother well enough to know that there was a rifle or perhaps a shotgun under the bed and a handgun, most likely a 40. In the closet or nightstand.
He fumbled with the zipper, KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Someone was pounding at the door of the cabin, he through the cover of the case open and pulled out a B.R.O AR-15 and a full magazine. Even in his impending doom, all he could think was, “Dang. Grammy is packing full heat.” Even while he loaded the weapon he mused at the beautiful firearm. Blacked out, pistol grip with a combo laser and X20 scope. Markus had shot a gun a few times but had never really been hunting before. His mind glimpsed back to his teenage years when a friend had taken him out to their farm and shot doves with a 12 gauge. He got so frustrated, it seemed impossible to shoot those tiny birds while twenty feet in the air, making emergency serpentine maneuvers.

Markus pulled the rifle up to his shoulder and looked down the sights, past the scope. He figured in close quarters like this the scope wouldn’t do much good, even though it’d probably mess with his aim not looking down the barrel straight. 

“Hellooo? Is anybody home?” It was a man's voice, but not very deep. Almost as though it never dropped from his teenage years. Markus pointed straight at the door but kept his finger off the trigger, hovering just outside of it just in case. “This is private property and you’re trespassing, I am armed and ready to defend myself,” Markus yelled back sternly. The door shut ever so slightly, and the man calmly replied, “I mean no harm, my name is Carry. My wife and I were out hunting for elk and we got lost tracking one. We just need to be pointed in the direction of town. Please.”
Markus took a deep breath and exhaled, lowering the rifle. He walked over to the door and opened it, in the doorway stood a man, no taller than five foot nine, dressed in designer winter gear, and a woman behind him, meeting the same standards only slightly shorter. She was pretty, long blonde hair well taken care of, and probably a whole pallet of makeup on. The man had a five o’clock shadow, but Markus could tell he was usually clean-shaven. Markus could only think, you have GOT to be kidding me.

“It’s got to be fifteen degrees out here, come on in and I’ll make some coffee. I can take you into town after I dress,” Markus said as he opened the door so the out-of-place couple could enter. He threw some wood into the fireplace and dropped a match, it seemed to ignite instantaneously. The strange couple sat in front of the fire, warming their hands with a cup of cheap coffee. Markus couldn’t believe these people, they were about as “yuppy” as they come. What kind of people wear designer outdoor clothing and a sportsman Rolex on a hunting trip, and how on earth did they end up this far from the closest habited building? 

My German shepherd is 9m old and was at our fav boarding spot while we were away for 5 days. She plays all day with her buddies and they take great care of her.
We got her home and she’s been low energy since. Then she was eating ok… to not much…. Dry heaving…. And now has a little runny nose at times. No energy at all.
I’m thinking kennel cough but wondering if anyone else has experienced this. I’m taking her in tomorrow if she doesn’t eat dinner. 🥺

Hi. I just need to rant this out because I feel scared that it's going to happen again. So I suffer from migraines (never tu* with my migraine just n) I've tried pretty much everything and I moved on to injections first one was terrifying. We tried nerve blockers and after the shots I felt like I couldn't move, my vision turned dark blue while I almost blacked out, my ears started ringing, I got all tingly and the waves started. I freaked I started muttering I'm gonna be sick and my doctor got me some ice and told me to take deep breaths. Thankfully, it went away and I told him I never wanted to experience that again! Since then I started Botox but it hasn't been working and last night when I felt like I could no longer take it I asked to go to the ER. They gave me a migraine cocktail and I was so unprepared. In my cocktail there was a nerve blocker and immediately after it was administered my vision blued out, I started trembling, could not walk, got a huge wave of n and a coughing fit that I guess was my body's way of trying to get me to tu*. But at this point my phobia has gotten so bad that even when my body wants to, it can't, unless I force it to happen and I didn't allow it so of course a few seconds after I had the feeling I had to poop. I prefer that over tu*. Nothing happened though so I ended up with a few other waves of n. Thank goodness I didn't get sick and after they administered the anti n med I was no longer n but this is getting to a point that I'm scared of my own nerves. Last night I would have rathered continue having my horrible migraine fit over getting sick. I was so scared and am still a little scared that the feeling might come back 😭. Anyway the point of this is aside from talking to yourself, taking deep breaths, drinking cold water, or using ice, Does anyone have any tips for dealing with this kind of insane panic when it hits?

Hello again! Thank you so much for all of the support I garnered on the last upload! Honestly wasn't expecting this to get even half of the traction it got but hey, giant monsters are giant monsters I guess. Regardless, please enjoy viewing the unbridled Nature of Titans >:D
Memory Transcription Subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic
Date: [Standardized Human Time] March 12, 2132
Time around me seemed to grind to a halt as I watched the monster. The ringing in my ears only continued to grow in volume, and it felt like my heart was practically breaking through my ribcage. Something tugged at my paw, but I was transfixed watching a tragedy unfold.
The abomination carved a path of destruction through the city, eventually coming to a stop at a hospital. I could just barely make out the small pixels of what I presumed were citizens, my citizens, people I swore to protect… running for their lives. It spotted them, and made a point to make an orange skidmark on the pavement before turning its attention back to the hospital.
My mind traveled to the past bringing me back to that night, the fire… the screams… the gas… my daughter… The tugging at my paw grew stronger, anchoring me back to reality. The ringing was still in my ears but I turned to see Kam, practically screaming in my face. Sound started returning soon after, “...eed to call in fighters, planetary defenses, anything! Tarva! Please! We need to do something!”
It took me a few moments to process the information, snapping out of the trance as soon as I understood the full brunt of the position I was in. I’m the Planetary Governor, they need me to lead them! “S-Sorry, yes, send anything we can spare! We need to take that thing down! Now!” I need to be strong, now, and for however long I’m in this office.
We frantically paced around the room, calling any branch of the military we could possibly get on our lines, they seemed just as shocked as we were by the developing situation but after some coaxing they told us that they’d mobilize as soon as they could. All we could do now was wait and watch.
The planetary defenses roared to life in the live feed, as large cannons emerged from their sunken positions and aimed towards the sky. The gigantic metal cannons emitted a deep groan as they changed position, aiming directly at the monster’s back. I was practically glued to the screen, these cannons were powerful enough to blow holes in the side of an Arxur warship if they had to. It was our best bet to inflict some serious damage on this bastardization of nature.
The beast was too preoccupied satiating its sadistic nature to realize the imminent threat right behind it, right up until the cannon roared to life and fired a shell. It flew through the air with blistering speeds before ramming into the odd sails which lined its back, exploding as soon as it came into contact with the rest of its body. It lurched forward, stumbling for a moment before it reared its ugly head, gazing at the new threat which presented itself. Bellowing a piercing screech it rushed the planetary defense cannon, its feet and claws smashing into whatever it had to in order to reach it.
The cannon fired off another round, as it careened through the sky and collided dead on with the creature again. It slumped, dragging its claws through the city scape as it was pushed back from the impact, before it looked up and continued its warpath forward. Eventually closing in on its prey, lunging at the cannon and carving it up with its sickening scythes. Its ferocity was put on full display as it stabbed deep into the orbital turret, repeatedly caving in every inch of it before it was reduced to rubble. The second turret roared, and the beast turned to it, changing targets immediately. The cannon didn’t last much longer than its counterpart.
Bile rose from my stomach, threatening to make an acquaintance of the floor of my office, but I swallowed it back down. Kam only looked on in horror, “Our orbital cannons… t-they should’ve done something! …M-Maybe it’s wounded or hell maybe it even had the wind knocked out of i-”
He didn’t have time to finish his sentence, the camera panned back up to show a small squadron of fighter ships finally engaging. They fired off everything they had, plasma, kinetics, missiles, no matter what they fired the result was the same. Nothing.
The monster let out a sickening laugh before lunging at one of the fighters, narrowly missing it. Turning to face his escaping prey, it found a missile lining up almost perfectly with its disgusting single eye. It couldn’t have reacted in time, as the rocket exploded, shrouding its skull in smoke.
For once, the predator seemed to actually be in pain, it tried to cover its visor like eye with its claws, screeching in pain. My tail shot up in the air, “It’s eye is its weak point! Kam, we need them to focus on the eye!”
Kam quickly relayed my orders to the fighters which swerved back around through the air, unloading their munitions into its hide. Some shots connected, others missed their mark entirely. It doesn’t matter, we’re actually doing something! We can drive it back or maybe even kill it!
Another horrible screech left its beak as the spines running up the back of its neck pulsed bright red. It turned its attention to the fighters who had just completed their run. Light seemed to gather into its visor, as it grew brighter and brighter.
As they circled back for the second time, a beam of sickening red light arched across the sky from its eye, clipping the wing of one of the fighters sending it spiraling down into the city and completely evaporating another. The squadron tried to enact evasive maneuvers, only for them to get burned up by the horrid ray, one after the other. When the light subsided, only one fighter remained, swooping in to try to fend off the monster alone. A horrid grin crossed its face, as it leapt through the air, skewering the fighter on one of its hooked appendages.
The beast looked into the cockpit of the fighter, releasing an amused chortle, before raising its hook to its maw. Kam and I looked on in horror as it clamped down, shaking the fighter to and through before tossing it away like an infant bored with its toy.
I shook my head, at this point there wasn’t much else we could do.I turned to Kam, hoping my military advisor had some sort of advice, something to turn the tide. He seemed to be trying to formulate something in his head, but his ears and tail gave away the hopelessness he was feeling. “W-We… We have a warship in orbit…” He meekly stated.
I whirled around, staring at him with pure contempt, “Kam, if you’re suggesting we drop an antimatter bomb-” I began before he lashed his tail in denial.
“NO! Tarva I…” He took in a massive breath before locking eyes with me, his guilt was nearly palpable, “We could fire it’s railgun, lock onto the monster and ensure that it hits, and to do that we’d need to keep it distracted with more fighters so it doesn’t move.”
“Are you mad?! You’re sending them to their deaths, not to mention the destruction a railgun would cause! It would destroy entire city blocks!”
“Yes! And it would put that… that thing down!” I backed away, I had known Kam for years, and this was the only time I had ever heard him shout like this. He noticed my distress and backed down, sighing, “Look, Tarva, nothing we’ve used so far has so much as scratched this beast, either we stop it now and destroy a few blocks, or we let it continue to rampage, and just hand the entirety of Thin Meadow to it on a silver platter! Or hell, maybe all of Venlil Prime for that matter!”
I gritted my teeth together, barely managing to hold back tears. I knew he was right, every part of me knew he was right, but I was still the one who had to pull the trigger. Railguns might’ve been infinitely less destructive than antimatter weaponry in terms of orbital bombardment options, but it didn’t change the fact that anyone caught in the blast zone would be gone, reduced to atoms. I knew I had to prioritize the greater herd, but this wasn’t what I signed up to do. I felt sick.
“Kam… Please…” I meekly mewed, staring at the ground. I didn’t have the strength to authorize the order, but I couldn’t tell him no either. I was stuck, I couldn’t cross that line, I just couldn’t. But I had to.
I felt his arms wrap around me in a tight embrace, and the dam collapsed. I broke down, the stress of the incident finally spewing out through my eyes and forcing my legs to give out. Kam held me tighter, “I don’t want to do this either, Tarva. I know what I’m asking you to do, but we need to do this, and every second we waste is another innocent person whose life was handed over to that monster. I’m sorry.”
I brought my paws up to my eyes, wiping away the tears, “Do what you have to do.” It could barely be called a whisper, but Kam heard me loud and clear, his tail hanging between his legs as he gave me an affirmative ear flick.
Another squadron of fighters approached the burning city, firing their munitions aimlessly at the beast. It swiped at them and fired its beam, but it didn’t move much from where it stood. Another screen displayed the orbital view from one of our warships, its railgun pulling in the light around it and a distinct white glow began to shine through.
“Governor, we have a lock.” Kam said, looking at me, but I couldn’t look back, I had to watch.
Was there anything I could’ve done to stop this? Why me? Why do I need to be the one to pull the trigger? Why me? Where did this monster come from, why was it so violent? Why me? My mind cycled through millions of questions in fractions of a second, before I sighed in defeat. The lump in my throat felt like it would suffocate me, “Do it.”
The spiraling beam of light launched from the railgun, and descended into the atmosphere of Venlil Prime, I turned my attention back to the live feed of Thin Meadow, with the abomination using its ray to clean up the rest of the distraction fleet. It roared its deafening, metallic, screech into the sky as if to show how proud it was for the wanton destruction it caused, before it was enveloped by light.
The sound from the TV’s speakers didn’t pick it up right away, but whatever camera was focused on the monster zoomed out, before a thunderous boom rattled it. Smoke plumed into the air, and several city blocks evaporated in the blink of an eye. The foundations of the city collapsed in on themselves as roads sunk into sewers, buildings collapsed, and rubble was flung into the air.
It was horrifying, I knew it was necessary in order to kill the predator, but the pit of dread in my stomach only grew. All of this destruction, all of those dead, all of this chaos because of my order. My tail hung between my legs, practically dragging on the floor. I glanced at Kam, finding him in a similar state. I sucked in a breath, “We need to send aid, there could still be civilians under the rubble.”
Kam solemnly nodded, and it wasn’t hard to imagine why. We were only able to halt the monster’s rampage at the cost of possibly thousands of innocent civilians, not to mention those who were caught in its path prior to the railgun. I turned back to the screen, watching the smoke rise into the air from the crater. Was this really the only option? Maybe… maybe I could’ve tried to limit the destruction… wait till it was outside of the city? I sighed, there was no comfort to be found here. Turning away from the screen, I began to make my way out of the office, I had to draft an address to the public, and I couldn’t stand to be in there any longer.
“SKREEYAAAH-”
My tail shot up, and I turned my attention back to the TV, the beast was rising from the smoke again, and barely looked worse for wear save for a few scrapes on its scales. It looked up into the sky and started to float upward, starting slow but quickly gaining traction. It didn’t make any sense, it had no wings, no jets, nothing to propel it through the air! It was like it was some cheesy movie monster being hauled up by invisible wire.
To my horror, it quickly made its way into the upper atmosphere, beelining it towards the warship. Kam dropped to his knees, it would still be [30 seconds] before the railgun would have recharged, and by then it’d be far too late. The bile in my throat resurfaced, and didn’t I bother trying to keep it down, the creature before me defied all known laws of biology that I knew of, I had a right to be terrified.
Kam fell to his knees, “H-How… even after… how could it possibly be alive…?” His voice lacked the vitriol it had whenever he spoke of predators, it was sheer and utter hopelessness.
The monster was only a rising pixel in the sky, so I turned back to the camera mounted on the warship. It was closing in, reading its massive hooks to puncture the ship's hull. Shields wrapped around the warship right before its hook sank into the hull, deflecting the blow entirely. The psychotic bird seemed to bellow in fury, unaware that its roars meant nothing in the vacuum of space.
It repeatedly bludgeoned the shields with its scythes, scraping and scratching, and continuing to scream in silence. Before long, it ceased, and instead elected to wrap its limbs around the ship, cradling it in its arms and bringing it close to its chest. The spikes on its chest seemed to begin to vibrate and whirl as my mouth opened agape with horror.
I watched as the creature quite literally sawed the shields open, once it finally broke it faced a barrage of kinetics and plasma weaponry, but they did little to stop its vengeful wrath. Using a single hooked appendage, it cleaved the railgun clean off, sending it to drift in the void, that sickening grin returning to its face as it eyed the now exposed hull.
My holopad buzzed, a second alert in my emergency channel, I gladly opened it, I had viewed enough tragedies today, I didn’t need another one. Unfortunately, the universe had other plans. A second energy signature had been detected making headway towards Venlil Prime, almost identical to the first. The only visual being a blur of multiple bright colors. I looked back at the TV, watching as the first beast was clawing its way through the hull with surgical position. Exposing as few as it could to the vacuum instead of simply destroying the ship and being done with it. In the distance, I saw the multicolored blur behind it, and my heart sank just a little bit more. Whatever reserves of hope I had were dried up the moment it rose from the ashes of the railgun blast, it was hard to lose more when it was already hopeless.
A blinding flash of light took me off guard again, and based on the footage, it also took the beast off guard. It whirled its head around, alert and scanning the space around it, only for an utterly gargantuan wing to smack it in its head. The abomination bellowed, as it was flung through the vacuum, eventually whatever allowed it to fly were booted back up and it steadied itself, searching again.
The camera panned up, to reveal a great insect. Its wingspan alone dwarfed the warship, and it was covered head to thorax in orange, yellow, black, and white hairs. It sported giant blue eyes on either side of its head, a telltale sign of prey. A twinge of both relief and guilt tugged at my heart. It’s prey, like us! Perhaps the beast will chase after it and leave Venlil Prime alone long enough for us to gather a suitable counter attack! It felt terrible being happy at the arrival of prey to be butchered, but if it meant my people could have time to convene or get to safety, I’d take it.
The two beasts stared at one another for a long time, neither making a move. The camera panned back over to the predator, which seemed to be itching for an opportunity to strike at its prey who dared disturb its hunt. The insect placed its appendages on the hull of the warship, and spread its wings out to face the predator. Though I couldn’t see the pattern displayed upon them, it was most likely some sort of intimidation display to ward off the beast. Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect. The beast let out another mute roar before dashing forward through the vacuum, the insect pushed off from the warship seemingly intent on clashing with the beast.
Kam and I watched as they approached one another, speechless as they engaged one another. Speechless at the sight of the nature of titans.
First Next

English is noty first language.
(F20) I've had some bad crushes/limerence states for people that were mostly triggered by dreams which would be clearly considered animus dreams. However, the worst one I've had was two years ago, and it lasted for more than a year. It made me do some stupid shit but at the end, distance made me forget about him.
However, now I've had a dream of my professor, which I would like you to interpret. It's literally messing me up because I can't stop imagining his presence with me in my daily routine, and as soon as I try to study, I start having sexual fantasies about my professor. The problem is that I love the feeling but I'm also well aware that if I let myself live it too much, there will be catastrophic consequences. So I need help.
I hadn't met the professor nor thought about him for months. He does make students think a lot about him because he has a complex character, but I hadn't been thinking about him for a while. He has an energy that I can only describe as motherly, as in a mother who is very harsh but deep down is the most loving and sensitive person, who cares about her children (for him, it's his students). I had criticized him A LOT because of the way he kind of tends to "humiliate" students, including me, when we ask a question. But I knew that deep down he's probably a very insecure person and uses it as a defense mechanism of some sort, and can actually be very kind outside of class (as he clearly had been in a few occasions).
The dream: (There's a pattern that I've noticed among dreams that are clearly my animus and that cause me limerence. They're always dreams with super cozy environments, a lot of positive energy with a lot of natural light, sometimes even actual sun rays entering the room. And it's always a man that I find attractive to some degree, talking to me face to face while we're standing, never sitting. There's always a lot of eye contact)
I had just waken up in a cozy apartment, or house. It was a very sunny morning and there were actual sun rays entering the room through the windows. There were a lot of windows. My friend and classmate in college, who's a slightly older woman (F48), was my flatmate, and we were like opening the windows and curtains to change the air a little bit as we had just waken up. The house was cluttered but felt welcoming. Everything was very white, like the furniture and the cupboards in the kitchen. There were two little girls, like 10 yo, playing and laughing in the apartment and they were eating candy. One of them was chubby (I grew up chubby and still am). As I was opening the curtains in the living room, I saw outside the window that there was a big nice car parked at our front door. On the driver's seat was the professor (M36) who didn't see me as he was looking down, almost like he was looking at his phone. I closed the curtain because it felt like the right thing to do as he was outside. He was wearing his usual white/light blue shirt. Btw, on the other side of the road was a small supermarket (I'm European, so don't think of Walmart, we have small supermarkets in the city) with a lot of people going around, and just a lot of livelihood. I went to do something and meanwhile everyone in the house (my friend and the two girls) wouldn't show up anymore. A minute later, someone rang on the door. I opened, and it was the professor. He was wearing dark clothes, unlike when I saw him in the car, and in real life he never wears dark clothes. I welcomed him and he was very formal and laid-back, as usual. I think he brought something with him but I'm not sure if I added this element by mistake while trying to remember the dream. I would say it was a huge bag of candy (remember the two girls eating candy). But I realized that he couldn't come in because there was a drying rack with our clothes on it, outside our front door, and it was acting as a barrier between me and him, and preventing him for coming in. As soon as I realized, I moved it aside with a lot of energy, because I felt awkward, and welcomed him in. When he got in, we stood in the middle of the living room. I didn't even tell him to sit on a couch, maybe beacuse there were no couches. Anyway, he started telling me something about what books I should use to write a certain essay. He mentioned a book that I remembered I had and ran (literally ran) to get it from my bedroom. Then as he was leaving, one of us was trying to give the other an object, maybe the same book, but it stuck (as if there were glue on it) to the waistband of my shorts (I was wearing at-home clothes which makes it weirder because I'm usually quite modest in my clothing, but then I was wearing shorts and a cropped tank top). He helped me very gently and in a laid-back way to unglue it from my waist area (I was wearing a crop-top). He sparked like a nervous laugh for the situation. That was something I definitely perceived as sexually tense. Also, it felt nice because he tried to help me in a gentle way. Then he left and the dream ended.
Help.

I’ve been dealing with Costo for several months. Thanks to the advice here I’ve made improvements with a few minor set backs. Overall though headed in the right direction. Four days ago I tested positive for Covid. Lots of sneezing, nose blowing, and dry cough have caused a pretty serious flare up. I feel almost to the point I did when I first began the healing journey. I have a few questions: 1. Has anyone had Covid post costo diagnosis? 2. Any advice on how to minimize impact on sternum from the sneezing and coughing? 3. Should I continue my back pod and stretching as I’ve been doing, or start from the beginning?

Chapter One
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Prev
Dear Mage Thippily,
I write to express my gratitude for your gracious prize. I have participated in the first three tournaments; although I have yet to seize the laurels, I have acquitted myself respectably. A small following of fans now cheers my name, filling me with pride and determination. Much of this admiration is likely due to your tournament gear, which many believe could only belong to a great lord, leading them to think I am competing incognito. Among my fans is a distant relative and his niece, the fair Willhemena. They have been a great source of comfort, and I have learned much about my lineage through them.
With two more tournaments this season, including the grand harvest games in the capital, I again thank you for the prize that has afforded me this experience and for helping my seneschal manage my subjects during my absence. Wishing you good health and a prosperous season!
Logrik Logaria
Count of Pine Bluffs County
67/302 this tournament season
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Lord Logaria,
Thank you for your kind words! Your success is our success, and we toast to your victories each night at dinner. I only lament that you did not regale us with detailed accounts of each event in the tournaments. In hindsight, perhaps hiring a bard to chronicle your tale should have been part of the prize! I am fully confident you will finish in the top fifty this season, but regardless we’ll have a great feast when you return home, for the entire town!
Life in Pine Bluffs remains much the same. The bakery has introduced a new kind of sweet bun that my men and I are quite taken with. My factory finally began full production last month, and we have already shipped several loads of high-quality goods. If you see anyone in the capital wearing clothing bearing our emblem, please let me know; it would be quite thrilling! There was a disturbance last month involving pirates, but it was swiftly dealt with, and the town remains unharmed.
My cat caught a field mouse with a remarkable cranial morphology! Its skull was a full percent longer, proportionate to its body length, compared to the field mice I studied near the capital. It is possible that the field mice around Pine Bluffs are an uncataloged subspecies! I have written to several colleagues to verify this finding; although unofficial, their coloration suggests—
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Sir! You have visitors! It’s the dorfs, mi’lord!”
“Dorfs? Here already?” Grigory exclaimed, sitting bolt upright and lifting his quill from the sheet.
“Aye, mi’lord, five of the tradeclan are at the outer gate,” Eowin replied.
“Excellent! Seat them in the reception hall; I’ll be down shortly.”
With a practised motion, he sprinkled fine sand over the ink to blot his partially written letter. Carefully, he placed the quill back in its holder, watching the feathered end sway slightly as it settled. The man-at-arms quickly bowed and returned to his post, the jingle of his steel rings waking Professor Toe-pounce. The professor gave a wary stare from his miniature armchair, which sat directly beside Grigory's larger, but otherwise identical, chair.
The master demonologist went to the window and took a deep breath. He’d been sitting in his chamber library all day, going through some of the crates of books that he ordered and catching up on correspondence. The dorfs were already here? He’d worried he might have to wait an entire year, so their arrival at his gate a scant few weeks after he asked the smith to make the request was beyond his hopes.
So much to discuss!
He checked his shirt and vest for crumbs, brushing his hands over them anyway. He squinted at his reflection in the small wall mirror, a recent purchase. Thankfully, the imps trimmed his beard and hair every morning, so he looked as crisp and presentable as a great noble ought to. He loudly cleared his throat, finished his mug of cold tea in a single gulp, and left his chambers.
He detoured through the dining hall and saw only Taritha, sitting alone with a tea and a sweet bun.
“Where’s Stanisk?” he asked without preamble.
“He’s running drills on the roof, I think?” she said, covering her mouth as she finished her bite.
“Good! Fetch him down to the reception hall, the dorf delegation is here!” He turned and left without waiting for her reply.
He slowed his pace to a stately stride as he came to the grand door of the reception hall. With one final deep breath, he pushed open the heavy door. The five dorfs sat waiting for him; they’d managed to get up on the upholstered couches, but their legs were so short, only their ankles hung off the edge of the seat.
Dorfs were a peculiar race, distinct and captivating in their appearance. They barely reached the height of a human child, with most of their shoulders not even reaching Grigory's waist. Despite their small stature, they were robust and more heavily muscled than humans, though only weighing about a third as much. Dorfs had an even weaker affinity for magic than humans and lived significantly shorter lives. Their faces were unsettling, elongated, and rat-like. Fortunately, these features were mostly hidden beneath a living filter-mesh resembling a dense grey beard that began just below their eyes, concealing their long snouts and sharp, tiny teeth obscuring the long snouts and tiny sharp teeth Grigory academically knew they had.
Their solid black eyes, hidden beneath multiple eyelids, were unsettling.. The outermost eyelid was thick and slightly cloudy, contributing to their resemblance to ancient men with cataracts and scruffy grey beards. However, Grigory knew that due to their brief lifespans, none of them were likely older than eight or ten years.
“Good afternoon, most esteemed guests of the Anghesk Tradeclan! Welcome to my factory!”
Four of the dorfs wore matching shades of earthy brown. Their tunics and trousers were adorned with intricate patterns that mimicked the natural growth rings and textures of fungi, creating a camouflage effect that would blend seamlessly into their underground habitats. Despite their utilitarian nature, the garments featured small embellishments: braided belts, mushroom cap buttons, and occasionally, dyed fibres that added a splash of muted colour. The final dorf had his tunic highlighted with a ghostly white fibre that faintly glowed with a soft bioluminescent blue. He also wore a sash of incredibly fine chainmail, more akin to fabric than armour, which was made of many different coloured alloys.
Grigory gestured to the one he identified as their leader, “May I offer you food or drink?”
“NoThankYou,” the leader said in a slurred high-pitched hiss. Grigory had to repeat the reply to himself to even tell it was speaking Hyruxian at all.
Grigory nodded and took a seat opposite them. “I am so glad you came! How was your journey on the surface?” He had no idea what their expectations of small talk were, but he also knew the tradeclan were the hive’s diplomats, so he felt it was mainly on them to steer the talks.
“LongBright-AlwaysAHardship.SporesAndSoil!WeEndureForTheUnity!” Its speech was slippery and hard to follow, but in fairness, they had different-shaped mouths and wildly different brain structures, so that it could speak Hyruxian at all was praiseworthy.
“Ah,” Grigory replied flatly. “I assume you are interested in conducting trade with me then? I was hoping to get enough dorfsteel for a small armed force?” He hoped his optimistic smile would convey his intentions.
“YouWantCpmvvvv?” The last word sounded like an extra high-pitched chirping.
“Uh? Dorfsteel?” The demonologist’s brow furrowed.
The conversation went slowly and haltingly, as their vocabulary was far from complete, and many of his ideas and counter offers had to be painstakingly explained. The other four dorfs sat still and scarcely moved, content to let their leader do all the talking. It became clear that in their deep forges, the dorfs had countless mysterious and prized alloys, and the concept of dorfsteel was purely for the upsiders. After even more back and forth, including Grigory at one point standing up and miming swinging a sword and getting stabbed in the chest, the Tradeclan leader finally understood the specific alloy he was asking for.
Exhausted from the effort, Grigory called a short break to get some cool water and see if there were more sweet buns in the dining hall. He filled an ornate pitcher with water, rearranged the half plate of buns to look untouched, and carried it all out, with empty mugs clanking around his pinkies.
If only I had some domestic servants, he thought with a smile, knowing it was far too early to reveal his demonic ones.
He lit up at seeing Stanisk come down the stairs and commented, “Nice of you to finally join me!”
For once he wasn’t in armour, instead wearing a dark crushed velvet jacket over a pale linen shirt. He looked fresh as a daisy, clearly not coming straight from the drills.
“Yeah, lemme grab some of that from you. How’s it going in there? They fair?”
The demonologist passed the mugs and buns. “Partially? They know what I want, so it's a start.”
“What do you reckon they want?”
Grigory shrugged as he gently pushed the door open with his shoulder.
In his absence, they’d removed their wide-brimmed hats, revealing their heads. They weren’t entirely hairless, as there were some coarse long hairs sticking out, but they did nothing to cover their pink wrinkly skin. Being mostly bald made them look more like half-rat old men, even though they were none of those things.
“I have some snacks and some water; I assume bread is agreeable to your digestion?”
“SporelessIsFine,” the lead dorf agreed. Grigory was starting to understand their thick accents a little better, and was increasingly confident in what they were saying.
Grigory paused, alarmed by the scale of the faux pas he’d committed. He somehow talked with this delegation for much of the morning without introductions.
“Where are my manners! My name is Grigory, I am the mage, and this is my chief of security, Stanisk. May I ask your names?”
“CallMeZrprpTradeClanChrprpClusterAnskskHive,” the leader said in a single breath.
With a strained smile, Grigory timidly ventured, “Is Zerpzerp fine?”
“GziggrzFine?”
“Perfectly fine, Zerpzerp! So what can I offer you for this alloy you call Cpmvvvv?” Grigory slowly over pronounced the dorf word for the specific alloy of dorfsteel.
“TheHive, GloryForever, needs manythings. FirelessLights, AirPoisonWards, and WaterPoisonWards would serve the gloryOfTheHive. For this AlloyYouWant, we need special ores. WillTrade one cart of dorfsteel for two carts of TitaniferousMagnetite. NoneLeftHere. TradeShipsBring?” The words tumbled together, and the pitch was uncomfortably high, almost a sustained squeak, but Grigory nodded his understanding.
The Hive requires magic goods: lights without fire, wards against air and water poisons. In exchange for their prized alloy, they demand a rare ore. Simple enough!
“I’ll raise it with my trade advisor and see what I can do. How about regular steel? Is that something you can supply?” Grigory immediately heard himself and knew asking a dorf for regular steel was like asking a farmer for a regular plant. More back and forth and they finally got to the lowest cost alloy of steel that could be used in a product. For that, they would accept only magical goods, but the value of the goods and the metal would be pegged to market price, a more reformed barter, but a barter that Grigory felt favoured him.
“If you don’t mind me asking, apropos of nothing, are there types of magic that your people have strong feelings or laws about? I don’t want to create any misunderstandings.” Grigory asked cautiously.
The tradeclan lead dorf slowly shook his head, trying to contextualise what seemed like a silly question.“UnityHasNo Magic. UnityHasNo Laws. All for the unity. If Upsider MagicHelpsHive, it’s goodness. If MagicHurtsHive, Problems.” The last sentence carried a more aggressive tone than he’d heard so far.
“Oh! Of course! The health of your hive and unity are very important to me too! A refreshingly clear legal and moral framework too!” Grigory nodded quickly while speaking.
Nearing conclusion, the lead trade dorf held up his hand for one final point. Grigory stared in fascination at his three stubby fingers and long thumb. The entire last segment of each finger was encased in a form of a fingernail, doubtlessly an advantage for digging in softer materials. “OneMoreAsk, MgGziggrz.”
“Oh? By all means!” The mage said, utterly fascinated by the creatures.
“StoneOfLime underfeet. StoneofLime needed in all alloys, veryscarce homeveins, Wouldmine underfactory, payGziggrz?”
Finally, they overlapped with Grigory’s tenuous understanding of metallurgy. “Of course! Lime is a critical flux agent! By all means. But instead of paying, how about a team of Digclan dorfs spend a fraction of their time quarrying stone for my building projects? I’ll even calcine the limestone into lime before we send it up the mountain to you!” A dozen things ran through the mage's mind at once, and this seemed like a sublimely good deal.
The little dorfs spoke amongst themselves in their even higher-pitched native language and nearly immediately turned back to Grigory.
“AnskskHive WillSendFiftyLifeBond DigClanDorfs. SomeQuarry for Gziggrz, someQuarry For GloryOfUnity. DigclanBossDorf WillCommand ClanDorfs. OneTradeclanLifeBond WillCommand DigclanBoss. Gziggrz OnlyTalkTo TradeclanDorf. Gziggrz FeedsAll.”
“Certainly! That’s amenable to me. You may send the dorfs any time! I would need some specifics about their care and diet though?”
For a while longer, they discussed the specifics and refined the wording, while one of the other dorfs wrote up a simple contract, only two pages long outlining exactly what both sides were committed to in the agreement, thankfully all in Hyruxian.
The mage looked it over, made some minor amendments for clarity, and both sides signed at the bottom. With effort, the dorfs wiggled off the couches and each shook the mage's hand. Their hands were soft and dry, but slightly crinkly, reminding the mage of warm parchment. They went to shake Stanisk’s hand, and he crouched low on his heels to be more accessible. Grigory worried about it causing offense, but they seemed as fascinated with the mighty warrior as he was with them. Finally, they put their wide hats back on and walked back out the door in their shuffling gait.
Stanisk let out a long sigh. “You could understand them?”
“Yes, other than the actual words in their language. I was impressed they could speak our language as well as they did, all things considered. It does make Aethlina’s mastery of our language and rhetoric all the more impressive.”
“She looks better too!” The soldier snatched a bun off the plate. After chewing a bite he asked, “So did you just buy fifty dorf slaves at the end, because it sounded like you did?”
“Oh no, of course not, it was either fifty-one or fifty-two. I don’t know which category the Digclan boss will fall into,” Grigory said with a cheeky grin. It was a sure sign he was being at least somewhat misleading.
“That’s awful, the law is pretty clear about slaves! And that’s a law I agree with! Seriously, what’s the lifebond bit?”
Grigory’s tone shifted from conversational to expository, a wholly involuntary shift that he noticed but was mostly helpless to stop. “Dorf society is eusocial; they live exclusively for the good of the hive. There is no need or desire that can ever compete with their dedication to the hive. Sometimes the hive is best served by them aiding an ally or working at a remote site. To facilitate this, they perform a ritual where a non-hive entity’s goals are integrated into the hive’s priorities. So, while you and I or the company will not matter to them, fulfilling the details of this contract is considered a direct service to the hive. They are bound to this duty for the rest of their lives. We translate this as a lifebond. In their language, though, there are many additional roots and nuances to their term for the arrangement.”
“Alright. So slavery with a ritual? How're they not slaves? Do we'se pay 'em?”
Grigory shrugged, “No collars or whips? Definitely unpaid, or more accurately we pay the hive, and the hive provides their reason for living? The door will be open and none will leave. Probably? I guess they can.” Another shrug, his knowledge was mostly theoretical until today. “Some dorfs get permission to journey through foreign lands alone, and others just leave. I think it’s akin to abandoning your family, but very much stronger? I’ve read that it happens from time to time. They’ll send us a fresh one if we get a leaver; I added that wording to the contract. Or if one dies in the first year.”
“That ain’t remotely my problem with this!” Stanisk rubbed his forehead. “So they'se slaves by choice, and that’s okay?”
The mage paused in thought, carefully considering his position and words. “It’s more nuanced than that. They are doing what they want, and I am facilitating it. I am also economically benefiting from it, but my economic benefit will be used to improve our security, and eventually improve the quality of life for a great many people. Reduced to inputs and outputs; they do what makes them happy, resulting in other people being safer and happier.”
The chief scowled. “Put like that, yeah, but as an annoying mage told me a few times, people ain’t numbers! They'se still work in a mine all day 'til they die, so you'se get some stone and iron.”
Grigory raised his quibbling finger; “We’ll be paying for the steel, these labourers are primarily here for limestone for their own uses, I just collect some of their discarded stone to help defend the town. Obviously, we'll make their lives as comfortable as possible, as honoured guests. Have you considered their quality of life might increase as a result of this deal, and with the lime, presumably so will the health of their hive.”
“Ach, I knew better than to start this kind of talk with you! Still, it doesn’t sit right. These fellas will just do something, because it was writ in their minds somehow?” Stanisk was frustrated but lacked the words to articulate the specifics.
“Isn’t it fascinating? Some species of dog are predisposed to cheerfulness, squirrels to watchfulness, and here we have a whole sentient species predisposed to absolute selflessness!” Grigory said excitedly. In a more measured tone he justified further, “If we conceded that all forms of unpaid work are slavery, which I do not, then they would be technically slaves to the hive, not me or our company.”
“How can they have minds, but there’s thoughts they can’t think, or gotta think? That would be nuts. Could you imagine if people were like that?” Stanisk said, valiantly sallying out one more time.
“Ehh, if by people, you mean humans, I disagree. I don’t think you have to go far to find humans that have predispositions they can’t control, that cause them to ignore even compelling alternatives. We just call them personalities, or cultures as it affects a whole population. For the most part, no one gets to choose their own personality or upbringing.”
“Nah, I don’t like that one bit. My mind’s my own. I think whatever I want. Or not think!” Stanisk crossed his arms defiantly, his biceps straining the sleeves of his jacket.
“At no point in your military career did you run into someone that prized an abstraction like Nation or Emperor or Victory above their own life? What about killing Aethlina in cold blood? Or never think about gravy again, even while eating overcooked roast?” Grigory gently challenged.
“What?! That’s not–”
“Not a thought you are capable of thinking or not thinking, respectively? Bite off your own fingers, I’m sure you have the jaw strength. I’ll reattach them. We live in infuriatingly narrow canyons of our own minds, and I’m intensely glad I could finally make someone else see it!” Grigory accidentally taunted, gleefully spreading his more thinky problems, at long last.
Stanisk examined his thick calloused fingers before shaking his head. “You’re wrong, I just need some time to think through why. How does this apply to them dorfs? Do they all think the same things? Do these lifebonders even get to leave and start a family?” The big soldier dropped his half-eaten bun onto the plate, appetite lost.
“Nah, they’re drones, entirely sterile. All sisters, maybe cousins?” Grigory said dismissively as he stood. “I’ll explain their royalty to you another time. I need to get a move on if I’m to catch up with Aethlina. I really would like to see if she knows where I can find this titaniferous magnetite they wanted.”
“Hold up, you can’t just go! I make my own choices! Right! RIGHT?” Stanisk rose to his feet, his mouth a hard, intense line.
“Unproven, and likely unprovable! I’ll try to be back for dinner, so we’ll eat together or not. Based on an unbroken string of events that began before the first mountains formed!” Grigory’s cheeky grin had somehow grown wider yet.
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Edit to add: I just turned 50 in December…not sure that has any relevance.
I went in on May 9th for a routine mammogram. While I was out of state the results came in and they called and asked me to come back for “additional studies”. As soon as I got back in state I went in for another mammogram of the right breast. Initially I had pointed out something I felt in my left but they found two masses in my right. After the mammogram they had me wait and then they asked to do an ultrasound, the then the doctor herself came in and did another ultrasound. She pointed out the first mass and said she is certain it’s just a cyst, but the second one she said looks suspicious. So she scheduled me for a biopsy which is next week.
The results on my chart show:
ASSESSMENT: BIRADS 4. Suspicious.
deep to the aforementioned simple cyst is an irregular mass with indistinct margins measuring 0.3 × 0.3 × 0.6 cm.
RECOMMENDATION: (BI). 1. Ultrasound-guided biopsy of the right breast mass at 1 oclock 3 cm from the nipple (more posterior mass). Patient scheduled for biopsy 6/11/2024.
The only thing I can think is maybe it’s old dried up milk 🤣😬 just trying to keep it light and not worry but then my doctor called today and said she scheduled me an appointment to go over a “few things” can’t they just wait till the biopsy is done?
Either way I’m thankful they’re being attentive. I just lost my brother in December to pancreatic cancer so I really don’t want to deal with this crap. 💩 oh and I made up a song and sang it to her lol 😂
I made up this song “ boobs get lumpier when you get older it’s OK because they get the same way when you’re colder, it’s just a boulder as long as you don’t have to throw it over your shoulder” 🤣
Anyways…I am concerned but I found all of you and so I wanted to share and send all the good vibes I can for positive outcomes. I’m open to all your words of encouragement and hearing your own experiences. Thanks for listening.

Sorry this is going to be long, but I want to be thorough in order to give a clear picture.
We have 2 cats that we adopted from the humane society: Poe is 4 years old & FIV+ (adopted in January), Zest is 7 months old (adopted in February to help Poe adjust from street/shelter life to being more domestic and have a playmate). Since adoption, both cats are indoor only.
Poe’s medical history showed that he had some coughing/sneezing while in the shelter, and he had been on watch for a possible URI. We set up a vet visit immediately after he was adopted, and noted his coughing. The vet checked him out with a stethoscope and said it didn’t sound like he had a URI, but we started a course of antibiotics to be sure. After treatment had completed, Poe showed significant signs of improvement, so we felt comfortable adopting Zest.
A while after we adopted Zest, Poe’s coughing resumed (dry cough, no audible rattle of congestion, doesn’t sound like he’s hairballing, sounds more lung related than gut), so we took him back to the vet. Again, they didn’t hear anything unusual and suggested x-rays, where they noted some lung inflammation and we started a course of prednisolone to see if that reduced the symptoms with a possible dx of asthma and the idea that we’d put him on an inhaler depending on the results. We are still running the course of the steroids, and he seems to be coughing still, but the frequency and intensity seem to have decreased.
Last Friday, Zest started sneezing, and rubbing her nose after each fit, but was otherwise acting normal. On Sunday, her sneezing progressed to coughing. Monday, she was coughing hard and showed no appetite in the morning, and there was an audible rattle when she would breathe, she was also not interested in being active.
I took her to the vet. She was running a fever (104 F vs 102.5F being normal), and we ran some x-rays of her lungs and abdomen. The vet noted no inflammation, and we started a course of antibiotics that day. Her first dose was at 1pm, immediately after we returned from the vet. At 5pm, I gave her a churu to stimulate her appetite, she ate it and seemed to perk up a little. I gave her another at 8pm, and she gobbled it up and was acting hungry so I fed her as much as she wanted to eat of her normal food.
Her cough seems to be improving a little, the frequency and intensity have decreased slightly; however, on Tuesday, the vet called and said one of his colleagues looked at the x-rays and there may actually be some inflammation- potential dx of asthma. His recommendation was to finish the course of antibiotics and if she wasn’t 100% better, to start her on prednisolone and determine if she also needed to be put on an inhaler.
I understand that asthma can happen in cats, but it seems unlikely to me that we just happened to adopt 2 cats and they both have it. Do I need a new vet?
Of additional note: I smoke cigarettes, but I only smoke outside, and have never noted it causing issues with any of the 4 cats I’ve owned in the past.
Edit: I can still hear some congestive rattling in Zest’s breathing right before a coughing fit, but it is improved quite a bit in terms of frequency from Monday
Edit 2: Tuesday and today, Zest’s appetite and activity level have improved significantly