It started with me not really being me, and my family and friends being people I don't actually know. I was up at late hours, as usual. My friend was in my bedroom sleeping. I felt off, like there was something lurking around. Then I see it. This giant mass of dark colours, a scary face with teeth, and long arms that could stretch and also work as deadly claws. He was there for my friend. He comes for you while you sleep. He somehow made me believe that it is a painless way to go, and made me okay with him taking my friend. There was a darker motive though. When he tried to go into the bedroom, my parents woke up. My father asked why I was awake still, and I just shrugged my shoulders without really knowing what to say about the creature I just saw. Even then, he would have thought I was hallucinating from lack of sleep. The sound of my parents waking up, woke up my friend. She started playing loud music, and somehow knew about what was happening. Then I got a phone call. "Don't let them take you or anyone out the window. They will cut you until it feels like fire, and make you wish you were dead. Trust me." "They?", I thought. Thats when he went back to sneaking into the bedroom, and just as I was about to intervene, something grabs me, and pulls me back. Slicing into my sides, I started screaming. Was this what the girl over the phone was talking about? The giant creature pulls my friend out the window, and thats when I get released and whoever was holding me darts out the window to go with them. My parents came out of their bedroom once again because of all the screaming. I'm hysterical, crying, bleeding, and in a lot of pain. They ask me whats going on, almost in a yelling tone, and thats when I spill about everything I saw, what he said to me, and the phone call. My mother looks skeptical. My father looks like he believes me, but wishes he couldn't. This is when he decides we're all going to get my friend back. Me, my mother, my father and my younger brother. We leave the house and head in the direction they launched out the window. After a lot of walking, we come across a town that seems like it shouldn't exist. Its small, but filled with life, and kids, and a fun feeling. My father makes us pick up the pace. "We're being followed." He says in a hushed tone. Thats when I see it. Its a girl, in a pale hoodie and jeans, with bandages over half of her face, and the hood over her head. She could pass for my friend, but very clearly isn't. Her body language was too different, and why would she follow us instead of running to us. We lose her in the alleys, but then decide to make the mistake of cutting her off in the street. We ask her what she wants, she doesn't reply, but makes a few steps closer. Suddenly the town that was so filled with life, and the sun, and colour, spins under us. Everything is red, there's screaming, dead bodies laying and hanging everywhere in the streets. The girl that looked like my friend, starts running. She disappeared around a corner. Once we turned the same corner, there was a gate. It looked like it could fall any second, or like there was a lot of patch work done to it. We go through, and that's when the testing began. At first it was just running away from different beasts, or people who had gone insane from being here for so long. Then there were two actual trials. We had to crawl up into these vents, while they were on. It wasn't too hot or too cold, but there was enough air flowing to make us slip, a lot. All four of us held hands. The openings in the bottom would pop open randomly, in attempt to lose one of us. My mother was first in line, and I almost lost her during one of the vents popping open. In the very bottom of each opening it was different. A different way to die each time, and none of them quick. Her hand slipped from mine, but I had caught her just in time. If it weren't for my father holding my hand, I would've fallen through with her. We continued on, and we eventually make it to the end. At the end there was this pipe that went downhill. There was running water all through it, so we could easily slide down. There was nowhere else to go, it was our next test. Still holding hands, we jumped in. It seemed easy enough. Other than the random spikes, or deformed monsters coming out of the water and trying to kill us, we were pulling through just fine. Then, that's when we all heard him. Mid-slide, his voice echoes. "The young one must eat to keep his energy up." That put all of us on edge. My little brother had to eat little fruits out of the water. That was the actual test. So many thoughts ran through my head, but the one that was the loudest was a worry of him getting poisoned. But, he is naive. He just grabbed one and ate it. He is too young to have such worries. After that, we had to walk through a hallway, almost office like. The rooms you could see into, since the walls were just windows. Once we looked ahead again, at the end of the hall, was him. He was standing there, so still that we didn't notice him the first time. In the room next to him, we could see her. My friend was on her knees, blindfolded. I ran to her, and the creature just let me pass. I removed the blindfold from her face, and when she saw me, she gripped me so tightly into a hug.

Serpent-headed when the glamour was lifted but appearing to man as men among men. Crept they into the Councils, taking forms that were like unto men. Slaying by their arts the chiefs of the kingdoms, taking their form and ruling o'er man. Only by magic could they be discovered. Only by sound could their faces be seen. Sought they from the Kingdom of shadows to destroy man and rule in his place. But, know ye, the Masters were mighty in magic, able to lift the Veil from the face of the serpent, able to send him back to his place -Thoth, the Great Wise
Remember Venom, the parasitic alien life form that is attached to spiderman & a massive church bell isused to get rid of em? Venom was basically an Archon that the gnostics & Thoth talk about. Symbiotes are symbiotic alien life forms which feed on the emotions of their hosts, particularly negative emotions. Bells
Its been reported for ages that the plague would skip over the areas in Russia where they had larger concentrations of church bells. Many Soviet researchers determined the amazing healing properties of bells and found that the oscillation of the ultrasonic range of church bells repels bacilli, viruses, and other infectious diseases that are transmitted through the air, and even cures many other diseases. Bells Healing Study
The Apkalu who introduced the Me, brought arts/crafts, agriculture, writing, magic & music. Enki was god of music. See the golden age ancient civilizations sound, frequency & harmonics was widely understood to be the greatest method for healing the body.
To be clear, the cathedrals that you see around the world were never meant to be churches, they were centers used for healing. Cathedrals Healing Centers Everything the church had was pirated.. In sixth century, Pope Gregory, in a letter to those who were to carry Catholicism to Britain, cautioned these missionaries NOT to destroy the ancient sites. Gregory wanted them to destroy their idols, but insisted they kept the architecture as it was thereby automatically linking alignment to the ley lines and maintaining the power source. Egyptian concept of Maat(Harmony) was of the utmost importance, the reason the discipline that the church created to study Egypt has more questions than answers is because they don't understand this.
In the campaign to disconnect us from our true selves, the most detrimental action theyd take involved musical theory principles, suppression of the tritone in music was a central theme for hundreds of years. Canon laws were passed to mandate rules for how to construct scales, how to handle voice leading, what was considered consonant and dissonant, how contrary motion should be handled, what tones should and should not be emphasized in rhythm, which rhythmic patterns were acceptable and specific instructions for how music should be written. Megalithic monuments were built using acoustic HARMONIC Resonance, one will never understand Pyramid, temples, etc disregarding Harmony with nature.
History repeats itself, this 1939 Nature article wouls lead to the change by International Standards Association (ISA) from 432hz to 440hz & still today they have no true understanding of sound & its many benefits. A=440Hz tuning disassociates the connection of consciousness to the body and creates anti-social conditions in humanity. Music -Double Blind study In preliminary research, analysis, and professional discussions by Walton, Koehler, Reid, et al., on the web, A=440Hz frequency music conflicts with human energy centers (i.e., chakras) from the heart to the base of the spine. Alternatively, chakras above the heart are stimulated. Theoretically, the vibration stimulates ego and left-brain function, suppressing the "heart-mind," intuition and creative inspiration. Interestingly, the difference between 440 and 741 Hz is known in musicology as the Devil's Interval.
For maximum suppression of human consciousness, the frequencies we naturally resonate with, and which are the most biologically and psycho-spiritually enhancing, must be maximally suppressed.Ancient Egyptian and Greek instruments have reportedly been found to be tuned to 432 Hz. 432Hz is consistent with the natural resonance of the UNI-VERSE and all of NATURE, that the pitch is more HARMONIOUS and that when our atoms and DNA resonate in harmony with nature's SPIRAL pattern, our sense of connection to nature is said to be AMPLIFIED. Previously I cited the recent discoveries showing DNA being repaired by use of sound frequencies. Priests of Horus meant that they maintained the knowledge of harmony.
The great pyramid Acoustic chambers matched the harmonic chambers of the human body, the King chambesarcophagus Resonance frequency created a resounding beat frequency matching the human heartbeat. Every site had a navel which resonate at 111hz which switched from left to right brain dominance assisting with holistic processing, leading to altered state of consciousness.
To disconnect as much as possible the functions of these two distinct parts of the brain so we can be manipulated through the right brain while only being conscious of the left.They plant thoughts, responses, and images through the right brain (the dream-state, the non-conscious, through symbolism and subliminal imagery) while imprisoning the human conscious level in the left brain - the world of can I touch it, smell it, taste it, see it, hear it, OK it must exist. This is why the "education" system, and "science" is designed to talk to the left brain.
No architectural element of antiquity (excluding bearing elements), was just a decoration. Everything had a function. Even the vases, and doorknobs. The doorknobs would be made of copper to kill bacteria & infections. So, at the correct frequency there were regenerating concert halls, where people recharged themselves with pleasant music while buildings collected the energy of the ether. They stigmatized the ether & removed it as well. If zero-point energy machines were developed on the biological model of the caduceus coil and central ion channel then our energy generation could actually enhance human evolution rather than harming ourselves and the planet as it does now. Similarly if we construct superconducting solar architecture with a monoatomic lattice in manmade stone, then the energy emanating from this energy generator will also enhance the consciousness of life around it

Serpent-headed when the glamour was lifted but appearing to man as men among men. Crept they into the Councils, taking forms that were like unto men. Slaying by their arts the chiefs of the kingdoms, taking their form and ruling o'er man. Only by magic could they be discovered. Only by sound could their faces be seen. Sought they from the Kingdom of shadows to destroy man and rule in his place. But, know ye, the Masters were mighty in magic, able to lift the Veil from the face of the serpent, able to send him back to his place -Thoth, the Great Wise
Remember Venom, the parasitic alien life form that is attached to spiderman & a massive church bell isused to get rid of em? Venom was basically an Archon that the gnostics & Thoth talk about. Symbiotes are symbiotic alien life forms which feed on the emotions of their hosts, particularly negative emotions. Bells
Its been reported for ages that the plague would skip over the areas in Russia where they had larger concentrations of church bells. Many Soviet researchers determined the amazing healing properties of bells and found that the oscillation of the ultrasonic range of church bells repels bacilli, viruses, and other infectious diseases that are transmitted through the air, and even cures many other diseases. Bells Healing Study
The Apkalu who introduced the Me, brought arts/crafts, agriculture, writing, magic & music. Enki was god of music. See the golden age ancient civilizations sound, frequency & harmonics was widely understood to be the greatest method for healing the body.
To be clear, the cathedrals that you see around the world were never meant to be churches, they were centers used for healing. Cathedrals Healing Centers Everything the church had was pirated.. In sixth century, Pope Gregory, in a letter to those who were to carry Catholicism to Britain, cautioned these missionaries NOT to destroy the ancient sites. Gregory wanted them to destroy their idols, but insisted they kept the architecture as it was thereby automatically linking alignment to the ley lines and maintaining the power source. Egyptian concept of Maat(Harmony) was of the utmost importance, the reason the discipline that the church created to study Egypt has more questions than answers is because they don't understand this.
In the campaign to disconnect us from our true selves, the most detrimental action theyd take involved musical theory principles, suppression of the tritone in music was a central theme for hundreds of years. Canon laws were passed to mandate rules for how to construct scales, how to handle voice leading, what was considered consonant and dissonant, how contrary motion should be handled, what tones should and should not be emphasized in rhythm, which rhythmic patterns were acceptable and specific instructions for how music should be written. Megalithic monuments were built using acoustic HARMONIC Resonance, one will never understand Pyramid, temples, etc disregarding Harmony with nature.
History repeats itself, this 1939 Nature article wouls lead to the change by International Standards Association (ISA) from 432hz to 440hz & still today they have no true understanding of sound & its many benefits. A=440Hz tuning disassociates the connection of consciousness to the body and creates anti-social conditions in humanity. Music -Double Blind study In preliminary research, analysis, and professional discussions by Walton, Koehler, Reid, et al., on the web, A=440Hz frequency music conflicts with human energy centers (i.e., chakras) from the heart to the base of the spine. Alternatively, chakras above the heart are stimulated. Theoretically, the vibration stimulates ego and left-brain function, suppressing the "heart-mind," intuition and creative inspiration. Interestingly, the difference between 440 and 741 Hz is known in musicology as the Devil's Interval.
For maximum suppression of human consciousness, the frequencies we naturally resonate with, and which are the most biologically and psycho-spiritually enhancing, must be maximally suppressed.Ancient Egyptian and Greek instruments have reportedly been found to be tuned to 432 Hz. 432Hz is consistent with the natural resonance of the UNI-VERSE and all of NATURE, that the pitch is more HARMONIOUS and that when our atoms and DNA resonate in harmony with nature's SPIRAL pattern, our sense of connection to nature is said to be AMPLIFIED. Previously I cited the recent discoveries showing DNA being repaired by use of sound frequencies. Priests of Horus meant that they maintained the knowledge of harmony.
The great pyramid Acoustic chambers matched the harmonic chambers of the human body, the King chambesarcophagus Resonance frequency created a resounding beat frequency matching the human heartbeat. Every site had a navel which resonate at 111hz which switched from left to right brain dominance assisting with holistic processing, leading to altered state of consciousness.
To disconnect as much as possible the functions of these two distinct parts of the brain so we can be manipulated through the right brain while only being conscious of the left.They plant thoughts, responses, and images through the right brain (the dream-state, the non-conscious, through symbolism and subliminal imagery) while imprisoning the human conscious level in the left brain - the world of can I touch it, smell it, taste it, see it, hear it, OK it must exist. This is why the "education" system, and "science" is designed to talk to the left brain.
No architectural element of antiquity (excluding bearing elements), was just a decoration. Everything had a function. Even the vases, and doorknobs. The doorknobs would be made of copper to kill bacteria & infections. So, at the correct frequency there were regenerating concert halls, where people recharged themselves with pleasant music while buildings collected the energy of the ether. They stigmatized the ether & removed it as well. If zero-point energy machines were developed on the biological model of the caduceus coil and central ion channel then our energy generation could actually enhance human evolution rather than harming ourselves and the planet as it does now. Similarly if we construct superconducting solar architecture with a monoatomic lattice in manmade stone, then the energy emanating from this energy generator will also enhance the consciousness of life around it

I wanted to make sure more people got to see this press release from Dakotans for Health (the group that submitted the "Restore Roe" petition last week).

Friends, It’s been a while, but we want to thank you very, very much if you signed our petition to put abortion rights on the ballot this Fall. The people deserve the right to decide this issue! ~If you are one of 55,000 South Dakotans who signed our petition to put Roe v. Wade abortion rights on the ballot this fall, it is possible your signature was randomly selected by the Secretary of State and is one of 723 whose validity will determine whether the Roe v. Wade initiative gets on the ballot.~ ~I’m reaching out today to let you know that the radical Right to Life and the “Life Defense Fund” or their agents are likely to contact you and ask you to remove your name from the petition you signed. They are already contacting signers and could contact you by email, text, telephone, or even make a visit to your home to try and convince you to sign an affidavit to withdraw your name from the petition you signed to restore reproductive rights in South Dakota.~ ~Please do not be fooled, and do not agree to remove your signature if you are asked. We deserve to vote. We deserve to choose.~Throughout this campaign, Right to Life and their so-called “Life Defense Fund” have lied about the Roe v. Wade initiative. Here is what they will say and why it is not true. They will lie and say the initiative will legalize abortion up to birth. It does not do so; it reinstates Roe v. Wade which never allowed late-term abortion except, when necessary, in the judgment of a physician to save a woman’s life or preserve her health. They will lie and say the initiative will prohibit parental consent or safe regulation of abortion procedures. It does not do so—these were allowed under Roe v. Wade and the initiative does not prohibit them. They will lie and say that the initiative will force doctors and nurses to perform abortions or face lawsuits. It does not do so. Federal law protects medical providers’ right to choose. The initiative does not require anyone to do anything. They will lie and say it allows taxpayer-funded abortions. It does not do so. We have watched them for months oppose the initiative, and every time their lips move, they lie. The Roe v. Wade Freedom Amendment will restore abortion rights to what they were under Roe v. Wade. This decision belongs to us, the people, not the politicians. The initiative lets us vote on it. These radical groups want to keep South Dakota law as it is, prohibiting abortion even in cases of rape and incest.
Dakotans for Health Warns 55,000 Freedom Amendment Petition Signers of Coordinated Effort by Right to Life Organization
Dakotans for Health, spearheaded by co-founder Rick Weiland, is issuing a stark warning to the 55,000 signatories of its petitions aimed at putting the abortion issue on the ballot this fall in South Dakota. The organization cautions of a deliberate and organized campaign by the Right to Life (RTL) organization to coerce signers into withdrawing their support from the petition. In a post to the 55,000 individuals who lent their signatures to the Freedom Amendment petition, advocating for voters rather than politicians to decide the abortion rights of women in South Dakota, Weiland declared, “Right to Life has intensified their efforts to deceive you into retracting your support from our petition.” Weiland revealed instances where parishioners at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Sioux Falls were provided with misleading materials, including a 'Liar Flyer,' and formal legal forms urging the removal of their names from the petition. He warned that similar tactics are being employed online, in public spaces, and within various churches across the state to pressure signers into renouncing their support. “Don’t be misled by their falsehoods. Politely remind them that your intention when signing was to empower voters to decide this crucial issue, and that remains unchanged,” Weiland emphasized. Dakotans for Health underscored the urgency of standing firm against this orchestrated attempt to undermine the democratic process. Weiland remarked, “It was evident from the outset that the Right to Life extremists controlling the State Legislature aimed to thwart our efforts when they hastily enacted emergency laws facilitating organized campaigns to coerce or intimidate petition signers into withdrawal.” He added, “They recognize that South Dakotans support granting women and their healthcare providers the autonomy to make informed decisions regarding their health, hence their desperate bid to obstruct the democratic right to vote on this profoundly personal matter.” In its concluding statement, Dakotans for Health reaffirmed the significance of democracy as a safeguard against governmental overreach. “Democracy is your shield against politicians dictating the course of your life. The right to vote on matters of paramount importance is the cornerstone of democracy,” the organization asserted. “We are encouraging signatories to reaffirm their commitment to upholding democratic principles and support for the Freedom Amendment by visiting www.dakotans4health.com,” Weiland concluded.

So be aware, if you signed the "Restore Roe" petition, these people might call you or even just show up at your house and ask you to remove your name. I suspect I saw a few of them out and about in my neighborhood already; there were a handful of people not going door to door but knocking on doors and checking off a list.

Very long post so I apologize, I just want to establish the timeline to give as much information as I can.
I’m looking for some alternate opinions and ideas.
Rottweiler, nearly 5 years old, 90~ pounds, active and in shape.
April 17/18, she was bit on her face by a snake while on a hike (there’s three kinds of venomous snakes in my area), presumably a copperhead as I did not see or hear a rattle, and I only saw that it was brown (the other venomous species is black). My other two dogs were there, and the first priority was to get all of them away, and assess the situation more.
She was very clearly in pain, so she was rushed to the emergency vet. She was given anti venom, an overnight stay, and returned home the next day. For the next week, she was given painkillers three times a day, some antibiotics, all of which she finished. She returned to normal and was back swimming in the pool and running around.
May 8th I notice her panting a lot, wanting outside and not acting like herself. Upon physically examining her, she had what is best described as a soft but large lump on her neck. I decided to take her to her normal vet.
I told him that she had just recently (a couple weeks ago) been bitten by a snake, and after shaving and examining the lump, he suspected she was bit again as there was certainly a puncture wound. He asked permission to give her a dose of anti venom, and I asked if there are risks involved if it wasn’t a snake bite, or if she didn’t need it, would there be any complications. He assured me there would not be, they’ll administer it, monitor her, and keep her overnight so I gave the okay and went home with her in their care.
He called back a couple hours later, well after closing and he said that I should come back to the vet. She had apparently went into anaphylactic shock and had a stroke after receiving the anti venom. He said that it was a very rare case, as when you give dogs anti venom and monitor them, if certain levels start to rise you just stop giving it to them and the effects reverse before they reach dangerous levels. She apparently had the reaction immediately. I transferred her to an overnight vet which was an experience in itself, as carrying her to my vehicle was not pleasant.. she had no control over her bowls and had a poop/blood mixture coming out of her almost constantly. The overnight vet took her in, I picked her up in the morning to go back to the regular vet per their request. She was obviously very disoriented because of the medications she was on (or, her reaction too) so she had to be carried to/from and her mood was very “dull”.
She stays overnight again, and on Friday I think it’s all good to pick her up. The vet asks to keep her again over the weekend this time, free of charge, to continue to monitor her and make sure she’s getting her fluids.
Today, may 13th I get the go ahead to pick her up. The vet says he’s covering her entire visit which is of course nice.. she’s eating and drinking fine, but she’s having difficulty walking. Instead of her paws going flat and walking, her paws buckle forward (imagine trying to walk on the back of your hand rather than your palm) causing her to stumble.
She was carried into my vehicle and we went home. I lifted her out of the vehicle and set her down, and difficulty walking was certainly an understatement. She maybe took one step before I carried her inside and put her in a closed off living room.
Another thing I would like to note: I gave her a little bit of water in a bowl, and she would lick it maybe once and do something that I’m probably going to have difficulty describing.. imagine you have a popcorn kernel stuck on the back of your tongue and you kind of.. try to rub the back of your tongue against the roof of your mouth to dislodge it. Something stuck in the back of your mouth and you’re trying to remove it without coughing / hands etc. she does that, but quite dramatically. Puts her head down and uses her paw to rub her face while doing the tongue thing. Seemingly no problem eating though - I got her some fresh raw food rather than her kibble and she ate it without issue. She stood up to eat (after I adjusted her paw) and ate it all.
I’ve done a lot in trying to snake proof my back yard, though the area is large. I’ve went out with my dogs every time they’ve been out since and will continue to do so.
So now, my questions:
How long should I wait to try any physical therapy for her, or is that even recommended? If so, what kind of PT? My idea was to put her harness on and kind of lift her up a little and try to get her to walk
The water thing, any thoughts or just give it some time?
Any specific supplements, foods etc she should be having?
Was this a result of negligence on all parts, or just a freak reaction?
Open to any other advice, very much appreciated too. Thank you.

Brittany has sunk her disturbingly white teeth into the TTC/Mothering content lately and with that, your gracious Mod team would like to make some updates.

• No Gatekeeping Motherhood - This is a sensitive subject and it is rubbing a lot of people the wrong way. There are people in here who have had much wanted pregnancies end tragically and they still consider themselves a Mom. There's a lot of diversity in this community and a lot of shit to snark on. Brittany Dawn thinks having a baby will fix this void she feels that she has. It will not. Babies don't fix issues. Therapy does.
• Mark all TW/CW with Spoilers - This includes Posts AND comments! We will remove comments that contain sensitive subjects without having spoilers. Consider this your warning. If you wonder how to do this, please Google spoilers on Reddit. Use your brain and your resources. We all know Brittany sure as hell doesn't. Don't be like Brittany.
• Chemical Pregnancies ARE pregnancies - Full stop. However, they require a positive pregnancy test. We all know she didn't have one because she would be shoving it in our faces. Chemical miscarriages are not a thing though.
• No diagnosing or speculating about her Ultrasound - It's armchair. There may be a few sonographers or a radiologist in here but, she is not your patient. It's unethical. Yes she likely got an ultrasound early. Yeah she probably got it at a nonmedical boutique ultrasound place. Snark on that.
• Absolutely no comparing any body part to genitals - Seriously guys? Don't women get enough shit from men commenting on how "gross" and other abhorrent descriptions for a normal fucking part of our bodies? Why are we perpetuating that? Stop putting it in your flair. Stop commenting about it. It's body shaming plain and simple.

Brittany is treading into sensitive territory and she knows that. She knows that a portion of her fans will support her and her "haters" will get riled up and comment on her post, driving up her engagement. She's purposely using language to make it seem like she had a later and much more tragic outcome to her pregnancy. She's hoping new people will stumble onto her page and just assume she had a stillbirth. She wants the sympathy, valor, and attention that she attributes to a stillbirth. SNARK ON THAT.
Please take some time to consider the community surrounding you before you comment. Be sensitive to your fellow snarkers. Brittany Dawn has done some truly heinous things and we need to refocus our attention there.
I hope you all had the best Mother's Day. No matter how you celebrated, I hope you felt loved and cared for. I wish nothing but peace, love, and happiness for each and every one of you.
With Love,
Your BDong Snark Mod Team

Long time lurker, first time redditoposter. I've been listening and reading a lot of these horror stories and figured it might be fun to share mine.
I haven't actually played a game of DnD or DnD adjacent since about 2020/2021, mostly because of what transpired during the games I actually did play before that. I love the concept, I love creating characters and stories and worlds, but I get a pit in my stomach when I actually try to play again.
I had my first opportunity to play DnD my freshman year of college. I dropped in on the campus tabletop club and I was quite anxious. I was the only girl in the room, everyone seemed to have known each other or clicked well, but I wanted to branch out of my comfort zone. The first night went well! We played a very quick heist one shot where we made a character with one flaw and one interesting trait. Through unfortunate rolls and circumstances, we had a TPK, but it was a fun time. I was invited afterwards to join a Pathfinder campaign that a few of the members were going to start up for the new semester, and so I scheduled a time to meet with the DM and create my first full fledged character.
Now, the DM was kind of eccentric, a little whack if you will but very excited to help me make my first character. I thought he was just goofy and really into the game. God I wish I picked up on all the red flags that would come.
He first asked me what kind of race I'd like to play as. I had always been drawn to tiefling characters because I liked the aesthetic. His eyes lit up at that for some reason. Then he asked what class I'd like; if I'd like to be primarily a support or tank or what have you. I didn't want to get overwhelmed in my first game and thought support might be nice. I could watch how combat worked while just keeping everyone going and buffed. I said let's try bard! The grin that crept up on his face...
He immediately started talking about how saucy that would be, how my character would be so flirty and fun. I expressed some discomfort in having my character immediately fall into the "h*rny bard" category I had seen meme'd on so much, but he laughed and waved it off by saying he "was a theater kid in high school! Everyone was super h*orny and making out backstage all the time. It just comes with the environment!" Being a new player, and wanting to fit in, I pushed down my discomfort and thought okay, I'll play her as a joke character I guess.
For awhile it was fine, I got to play her as a dancelyre player who was part of a traveling circus. Nothing weird was coming up the first few sessions. Most of the other PCs either joined together by taking quests from the town job board, or had ties built in to their backstory. My first red flag should have been that the DM, despite constantly raving about all his planning, was frequently skipping around the story. He would suddenly decide the plot point we were on wasn't interesting enough for some reason, and just throw us into another scenario. We left so many lose ends because he just didn't feel like finishing them, regardless of if we were engaging in it or not. But hey, he's the DM right? That's what I thought, he had the right to change it. I had no prior experience to see this was just bad DMing.
We ended up joining an archery competition as we were tempted by a mystery grand prize. At the sign up table, out of nowhere, the DMPC attending to registration suddenly starts flirting with my character. I got flustered in a negative way because this DM got very into character (giving me looks, leaning in as he spoke to me, the whole shebang). I panicked, all of a sudden being the focus of a room full of men seeing how I'd react to it. I again, stupidly, went along with it. I had her (nervously) flirt back lightly, and I was relieved it didn't go much further at that point. Skipping to the end of the archery competition, my bard ended up in the final two and sabotaged an assassination on the town's mayor mid competition. The party was invited to a celebratory dinner at the mayor's house afterwards, where we once again ran into the NPC that flirted with my character at registration. He invited her to bed, and again I got extremely uncomfortable and flustered. None of this was discussed beforehand, nor was I even asked if I was comfortable with such topics before joining the campaign. The guys at the table were egging me on, and I felt pressured to accept. With a few hoots and hollers, we had a fade to black scene (thank god). I went home feeling very icky, but convinced myself I was being a wimp. And the table had enjoyed my antics that night, so I should be grateful.
I had the thought between sessions to write in a childhood friends to lovers interest for my bard to try and avoid any more unexpected encounters like that again, thinking if the DM had another character to play as with some personal tie to my bard, that would make be feel better about the interactions. He was brought up once, where I milked the f*ck out of my character's attachment to him, hoping to drive home that this was juicy potential relationship to build over the campaign. He never came up again during that campaign. The DM also completely disregarded many of the notes I gave him detailing this love interest's personality, and took many 'creative liberties' with him, but not enough where I would decide to say something.
Another few sessions happened where we struggled through the DMs inconsistent storytelling and jumping around to whatever plot point had his interest at the moment. He was constantly putting us in fights we could not hope to win, way too challenging for our lvl. 1-3 party. We often sat around the table in disappointment and defeat as we got absolutely destroyed by monsters (no one being able to land hits for sometimes 3-4 rounds at a time because of how high the AC or CR was), while the DM laughed and basked in the dreary nature of the table. He would usually eventually fudge rolls to give us an out when we were close to TPKs. He even gave us a deck of many things and insisted our PCs "felt compelled" to pull cards despite the players disagreeing they that wanted to. He attempted to force my character to drastically change her alignment to an evil one for shits and giggles because of one card pull (later allowed me to ignore it because I didn't even WANT to use the deck), and got three of us killed by having them pull a card that summoned the highest CR monster you could use.
One night he texts the group chat that he decided he's done running that story, and wants to run another one shot instead. We had one last session to "close" that first campaign and discuss the one shot options. During our meeting, he gleefully admitted to me that he had planned for my bard to get PREGNANT in that one night stand with the NPC from the archery competition. Not only did he plan to do that without my consent or knowledge, he had planned for it to be a HAG baby that would have entirely f*cked my PC up (he explained it as the man having been a witch in disguise or something?? And said that's how hags are made? Which to my knowledge is entirely incorrect. Maybe it was a homebrew rule, but regardless, I was mortified. And now very grateful he lost interest in that campaign).
Moving on to the one shot, another player decided to try DMing, and so the Problem DM had a chance to be a PC, yay! He privately messaged me and asked if I'd be interested in connecting our characters and their backstories. I said yes and we got to work. We spent a few nights discussing their dynamic and I was really excited to go into this game. Well, come the night of the session, we were going around the table introducing our characters. The Problem DM went before me, and introduced an entirely different character than the one we discussed, and one that would often almost kill us during the one shot (to which the guy would cackle and mock us for getting upset each time). I asked him what happened to our plan, and he said earlier that day he decided he wanted to do something different. I sighed and let it go, because at least it was just a one shot and my character could still function without his connection to the other PC. Another one shot where the Problem DM got to be a PC, he seemed to make it his goal to be the biggest asshole to everyone else's character. My PC was an archaeologist, and when she excitedly discovered some old pottery in a dungeon, he had his PC run up and smash everything and laugh in her face.
The next campaign we tried that had issues was a Starfinder campaign. Our party was considered its own crew for a space ship, plus one DMPC that was placed into the mix supposedly to help us if we fell short, since we were all unfamiliar with Starfinder and spaceship battle mechanics. She was honestly a really cool character! And we had one or two sessions to establish the story and how the crew interacted. Now, this was my mistake, not taking any of the other creepy habits of the DM into consideration, but I offhandedly mentioned to the table at large that my PC (a woman) might be developing a crush on this DMPC (also a woman). They had gone through a lot together in-game at that point and it felt natural. The next session, you'll never guess, the DMPC started flirting hard core with my character. I was confused and asked the DM what that was about, as we had never had any interactions between those two that would be read as romantic. Even if I mentioned my character was crushing, she had never let it on, and the DMPC had never indicated she felt a similar pull as well. The DM didn't really have an explanation, just that apparently in-universe, the DMPC had been flirting more and more with my character since their last adventure together alone. I thought, okay, I guess...
Honestly? What transpired would have been an insanely cool plot twist if we had had the time to actually roleplay and develop the relationship between my character and the DMPC, as well as the crew at large and the DMPC. She ended up being part of a cult that wanted to steal an artifact we had acquired. She was apparently trying to 'romance' my PC because my PC was the one who often guarded the artifact, and needed her to let her guard down. It would have been a super impactful betrayal, but it was literally only a handful of sessions between the first meeting, and the plot twist. We just had to trust the DMs word that we had all gotten super attached to her between actual session meetings and we all should feel like we were stabbed in the back by this trusted individual. And I especially should feel heartbroken because she never really was interested in me anyway.
Later on down the line, despite some very interesting story points, it got creepy again. Our PCs ended up being sucked into a death game show, and isolated from the outside world while being broadcast to universal TV stations. At some point we were all given access to the internet after a few weeks in isolation to search up anything we wanted. Everyone searched up their names among other things. The DM described us finding our newly formed fanbases. He described the other PCs fanbases (men played by men) as having hot debates on their intelligence and decisions during the show, or bets on if they'd be the last ones standing; that sort of stuff. He described my fanbase as leering creeps saying the most unhinged things about what they wanted my PC to do to them s*xually, as well as some spreading photos of my PC without her face covering (she was a Kasatha, which canonically keep their mouths covered. But she had been forced to remove it briefly when it almost waterboarded her after she fell into a river).
Eventually, we weren't able to meet consistently enough to warrant running campaigns anymore, and I fell out of touch with all involved. Oh, we also lost a player at some point right after he confessed to me and I declined his interest.
I went another year not playing before another friend group of mine invited me to play as a guest character. I thought this would be a nice way to ease back into the game slowly after my horrid experiences before. Rather than make an entirely new character for one or two sessions, I brought back my tiefling bard because I still really liked her character, and had started to reshape her personality without being pressured to have her be a s*xual chess piece. The new DM dropped my character in a labyrinth their current party had been trapped in for awhile. I was made to be a level or two higher and be an ally they encountered to help them escape. We did, it was fun! But I was only there as a guest, and had only planned my character to be in one to two sessions before leaving. I was consistently mentioning to the party that my PC would be leaving as soon as they get to her major city, but either they didn't think I was serious or didn't remember. I may have been convinced to come on full time, but unfortunately, history repeats itself. We got to a session where the party got to a tavern and drowned their sorrows and nursed their labyrinth bruises with beer, and the idea of a threesome was thrown in the air between my PC and two others. Now, half of this group were dating someone else in the group, and seemed very comfortable roleplaying casual s*x between their PCs because of it. They started a damn chant pressuring me to say yes, already trying to roleplay it, and I felt sick. I was too anxious at the idea of saying no with how aggressive everyone was for me to agree, so I tried to "roll for yes or no" as an out; the dice failed me, and it rolled a number assigned to yes. I was very quiet the rest of the session, and afterwards messaged the DM that I want my character to leave at the beginning of the next session.
The DM then tried to convince me to stay, despite me saying a clear no multiple times within the same conversation. They begged me to stay saying the party loved my PC a lot, and they would hate to lose me. When they finally relented, they then tried to smoothly transition to talk of making me a new character so I could permanently stay with the party, without compromising my bards story and decision. I kind of got on their case about that, and told them to stop pressuring me and I did not want to play with that group anymore. Eventually, they gave up, but not without some low key guilt tripping.
I tried playing with one more group after this, and while it didn't get creepy, it was also a disappointment as none of the players seemed to care besides me and the DM, despite everyone having encouraged starting the game because they wanted to learn how to play for the first time. Players slowly started ghosting us, drama happened between two players that joined just to have an excuse to talk and try and date (which ended up very messy and they both left), and the new players would get angry at me or the DM if they got confused with the rules or combat dynamics (the wizard rushed ahead of me, the tank barbarian, and then acted like it was my fault when they nearly got killed in the first round because "the tank is supposed to protect the damage dealers").
The DM and I stayed in contact after all the other players ghosted the chat, and ended up bringing over some other new players who had also played before, and re hauled the campaign. This one had so much promise...then quarantine hit, and we couldn't keep up with regular meetings.
At this point, with all my games ending with creeps, messy player dynamics or falling through, I decided maybe these kinds of games weren't for me.
I have new friends now inviting me to play, who have very functional groups (experienced professional DMs, closeknit friend groups, long-running campaigns), but I am too wary to accept any more offers for games, despite deep down really wanting to try again and be part of something I know can be amazing. Maybe I will one day, but until then, I just have these horror stories to think about.

sorry for the long post ahead..
after 7 long years of being scared of what my family would think, i decided it was time to go to the bishop and remove my name. long story short, i left the mormon church in 2018, and in 2022 i became a Muslim. i’ve done extensive search into my family history and more than 53% of my ancestors are Syrian, Lebanese and Beiruti (this is important for later.)
i went in yesterday to request my name to be removed to save a buck or two from having to pay for a notary to go through quit mormon (times are tough financially.) anyhow, the bishop seemed pretty nice and said that i didn’t have to answer but asked why i wanted my name removed and which religion i switched to. im very open to discussion of my religion and why i left MFMC. the moment i told him i decided Islam was for me, the trajectory of the conversation changed. he decided it would be appropriate to then say, “i hope you know you will face a lot of consequences for becoming a “mUzLuM”” to which i responded, “i had more consequences being a mormon than i ever have being a Muslim.” he then had the audacity to say, “the problem with you Muslims and Arabs is you think you own everything, you think everything in this world belongs to you.” like ???? im sorry??? if that’s the case i want everyone out of this building bc clearly i think it’s mine, right?
i went on to defend myself from the blatant racism and islamophobia, and he decided that since i was not changing my mind and coming back to church, to OUT OF NOWHERE, say, “well, i hope you know that i stand with Isr*el. they’re killing all of those terrorists out there.” like ok cringe that you all of a sudden made it political because i refused to be manipulated by you. anyways, that hit a nerve so i said my peace about it, hoping it would be a respectful debate but then he went on to say more islamophobic and racist things and then said “i hope you know the Qur’an is false.” and i said, “have you read the Qur’an?” to which he replied, “yes i have.” i said, “how much of it.” and with FULL CONFIDENCE he says, “only a portion of it.” who are you to cherry pick all of these things, trying to make me doubt the things i believe because they don’t align with YOUR beliefs??” eventually i had to tell him that i refuse to be gaslit and manipulated by him and that i was leaving. needless to say, i didn’t get my name removed that day. i always knew the church was racist and discriminatory, i just didn’t know to what extent.
i had always been hurt in the church, and i feel that now i’m back at square 1, trying to recover from the trauma i had to endure.

I want to start off by saying that I am aware that both Konami and Crypton Future Media are different companies with different businesses. The original intention behind my previous post was because I wanted it to be an empathy post where we could both share how we aren’t getting great things for 2024 this year, and possibly craft some theories of why this may be the case for one, or both companies if common problem and grounds could be found. That post was for people who love and know about DDR and Vocaloid.
For people who knew only about the DDR side, I apologize for having the post mainly one sided about Vocaloid at the very top. The reason for this was because, as I said in a comment on my previous post, I had been following the problems of the Miku Expo since day 1, and it got to the point where I could list many and possibly all the bad things off the top of my head.
DDR, meanwhile, I literally had 1 statement made, and I gave instructions to search up KAC 11th talk and you could find the video made by Dr. D Gaming on YouTube. I DID KNOW about what the content covered, but, because I had learned about it just yesterday, I would have had to sit down and type details on my post while rewatching the video because it’s not possible to instantly remember a near 30 minute video without repetitive watching for some people.
You can stop reading at this point because down below is the reason why I brought Vocaloid here. If you are still curious anyway, keep reading. I will also include DDR first this time unlike in my last post. It will be from memory without looking at the video again, but it’s better than nothing. Plus, you could always search for the video yourself to verify and get more information.
The reason why is because I was exploring the possibility that, possibly by coincidence, both Konami and Crypton Future Media did not like westerners, and they had pretty much gave their community watered down or no events at all.
For DDR KAC, such problems are:
You must know Japanese in order to be qualified for KAC because the final round will be in Japanese(this was shown and removed on their website as shown in the video. Note:It might have been a previous KAC year, but I’d have to go back and check)
You must pay for your own flight(literally had no problem flying overseas players from previous years)
iamchris4life along with 3 other people had their KAC entries called into question, and could be disqualified if not addressed. I imagine that they had very good and strong reasons, but was still turned down anyways. Konami even had the audacity to say to their face they appreciate and hope they continue to support them.
If you were disqualified from KAC ever, you’re never participating again.(That would pretty much narrow the event down to Japan only)
There was a KAC song that was region locked specifically to Japan
Various things here if I could remember them.
Last one I can remember. While not a problem, it’s an acknowledgment from the DDR champion of this year, HIBKI. They knew the technicalities is a bs reason to keep players outside of Japan from participating as kind of implied if you know the context behind his champion speech(seen in Dr. D Gaming’s 11th KAC DDR video)
For Vocaloid, a lot of things at the Expo went wrong. These things are:
Limited merchandise(100 glow sticks when literal thousands are coming to the concert)
No communication about the LED screen(It’s important to note that fans have pointed out that there is no difference between transparent glass screen and LED screen because it’s fine as long as the screen is integrated with the stage. When that happens, it can cause the same immersive effect that the Vocaloids are truly there and on stage.)
Unable to refund tickets(turned off by the organizer which would be Crypton).
Tickets for the Europe tour being released on the day of the concert, meaning, there was almost no way for Europe fans to know about the transparent glass screen switch before it was too late.
False advertising(the Vocaloids being projected on to the glass screen like years prior before this 10th anniversary)
The no glow stick rule other than the official ones by Crypton(this lead many to believe that the transparent glass screen + projection would be used, implying that it was not going to be an LED screen)
Crypton is not addressing the backlash until the NA tour ends, or possibly, until the Europe tour ends which would be the end of the year. If we assume we are getting a response at all(this could be a debatable problem. I can kind of see why they are waiting until the end of the tour)
As you can see, while these are very different events, and situations, it could come off as them hating westerners. Someone on my previous post had wrote an interesting theory that perhaps for Konami, there are 2 different management/team members. One goes for global expansion because they see potential. The other doesn’t want to take the risk creating mixed messages. Naturally, my reply would be that we had the team members who weren’t going for global expansion this year.
I also kept this insight in mind just in case if Crypton also has more than one management and is facing a similar problem.

im sending out a major sos for my skin and my routine bc ever since taking my skincare seriously and creating a routine, i feel like my skin has somehow gotten worse. i dont really know much about skincare but i have a friend who works at a cosmetics store and she helped me build a routine. could anyone help me identify what im doing wrong and point me to products that may be better for me?
backround info: im 19 years old, on a budget and would prefer not to spend more than like 20 bucks per product if possible. im assigned female at birth (they/them) (are these important?)
issues: i have severe fungal acne, those colorless little bumps all over my forehead. i have combination(?) skin, my face is extremely extremely oily all of the time except for my eyelids which become so dry they flake horribly, become red, itchy, and inflamed, and even swell. the area around my mouth is weirdly green tinted and my undereyes are noticeably purple.
okay lets go into my routine

1. juno skin clear 10 cleansing balm
2. cetaphil dermacontrol oil removing foam wash
3. whatever lipscrub
4. neutrogena hydro-boost hyaluonic acid exfoliating cleanser
5. cerave hydrating toner for normal to dry skin
6. cetaphil moisturizing lotion for dry to normal, sensitive skin
7. aquaphor healing ointment (the only thing that tames my eyelids)
8. cerave hydrating mineral sunscreen spf 50

in the morning i use the cleansing balm, foam wash, lipscrub, toner, moisturizer, and sunscreen at night i use the cleansing balm, foam wash, lip scrub, toner, moisturizer, and aquaphor on my eyelids i use the exfoliating cleanser twice a week
sos my skincare lovers. any and all advice is appreciated …. i love u all

So to start, my assistant manager just left which would make me the "manager" on one of the weekend shifts. This was the FIRST shift I had to work since they left. It was overall quiet due to it being mothers day. (Not to mention working in a skate shop doesn't draw a whole lot of women unless they're shopping for their kids) I was helping someone at my register when i heard my coworker ask me if there was a way to open the register. I said no (management is quite strict) and asked why. Apparently this woman was not happy with her change (?) idk i don't understand this concept. This woman looked me dead in my face and said "that coin is disgusting and I am pregnant. I will not be risking the health of me or my baby when I'm due in a month." change is change brother. the value doesn't change. I kind of looked at this woman like 'wtf' but she kept this look on her face like i was lower than her.
At this point i know she's going to be a problem and i just didn't want to deal with her frankly. So i open the till and pull out another coin. I look her dead in the face and ask "is this good enough for you?" (I'd like to preface by saying i am the last person who would be disrespectful or condescending in any way. i don't get upset very often at all) to which she mumbles an 'mhm' and walks away.
Why pay in cash if you think change is dirty? just pay by card instead.
I had gone up to the other staff and asked if they had spoken to her before she came up to the registers. one of my coworkers had said she kept asking for shoes in the same size after she had said she no longer wanted them. (this was multiple times for the same shoe. she had left the store twice i believe and asked for shoes a total of four times) my other coworker followed up by saying she was also very demanding of him as well.
I will add again that this woman was still extremely rude to my coworker at the registers. she told her to fold the clothing up before putting them in the bag. (there's security tags still on the clothes and she won't remove them until after the payment has been complete)
Either way in all of my years in retail i have never seen someone actually be so disrespectful to every single member of staff working that day.
Pro tip: just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you can look down on KIDS for trying to make a living :)

Last September I (32f) had an intraductal papilloma removed from my right breast. It never healed fully and I continued to have pain and discharge. I kinda lived with that for about four or five more months--I had mental health problems and landed in the hospital, long story--and then when I consulted my surgeon he confirmed on exam that I had another tumor in there. He said it was the fastest he'd ever seen a patient develop a recurrence. Lucky me.
Anyway, he told me that for the pain and discharge to just keep the area clean and apply warm compresses. He told me there was a zero percent chance it was malignant and to just go for regular mammograms as necessary. I haven't since because I usually get my mammograms in September.
Two questions here:
1.) Anyone else had a pierced nipple with this condition? I really don't want to take it out, but it's kind of disgusting that it's always crusty from discharge and painful. I'm concerned about infections.
2.) Should I take what the doctor said at face value and just wait until my usual mammogram time, or has anyone else had this problem and think the symptoms merit an early trip to the breast center?
I don't really like to Google this condition because now that they're recurring Google likes to very thoughtfully remind me that I have an increased risk of cancer, which my aunt also had (not-BRCA, no known family mutations). Any advice is helpful. Thanks!

TW: Domestic violence, miscarriage
First time on here. I am extremely fragile about this case, so please be kind. I am a female in my late twenties. I have changed a few things for anonymity. I am located in the Carolinas.
To provide a brief overview of my situation, several years ago, I removed myself and my children from a domestic violence situation. Despite leaving, I have yet to receive any child support or financial assistance from my ex-husband. However, my main concern is the safety and well-being of my children, particularly my partially non-verbal severely autistic son, who requires specialized care and protection. I have done fine providing, but don't have much (if any) disposable income. My son is the only child he has rights to.
These events happened either in front of the children, or down the hall from them. My ex-husband has demonstrated a pattern of abusive behavior, including physical, mental, and emotional violence in front of the children. He has also made threats to kill me and kidnap the kids, and taken actions of harm towards me, and shown disregard and neglect for our son and his needs. Additionally, his abuse led to a miscarriage. I told him about the pregnancy, and I guess he decided it was his decision on if it was terminated or not.
Last year, I was not properly served with the divorce and custody papers, which were signed for at an address where I have never resided. I have diligently pursued legal avenues to ensure the safety of my children, including filing motions for dismissal and continuance to give me more time. I haven't heard back about the continuance. However, due to financial constraints, I have been navigating this complex legal process largely by myself. The final trial is coming up and while I am happy to be divorced, I have not had adequate time to prepare for the custody case. I have filed a Motion to Dismiss by Rule 12 which is set at the end of June 2024, as well as a Motion of Continuous for the custody trial, which was scheduled without my input for the end of this month, May 2024.
Recently, I was misled by an attorney who took advantage of my limited financial resources without providing meaningful assistance. Consequently, I find myself facing a final trial without proper legal representation. Despite my efforts to manage the paperwork and gather evidence over the past four years, I recognize the need for experienced legal counsel to navigate the complexities of this case effectively.
My children and I had an Order of Protection, and later a Show Cause. He was arrested at the time an incident happened between us requiring me to go to the hospital. During this order, I was required to communicate with him via email about my son, which I did, and even let him do video calls with him. However, once the Order of Protection expired, he became hostile with me, so I stopped reaching out due to my his behavior. Not to mention the mental harm it did on my children and I (PTSD). While I left open the main line of communication, I refrained from further contact out of fear for our safety and mental well-being.
I am deeply concerned about the well-being of my children, particularly my son, who has been subjected to neglect and emotional distress by the actions of his father, and the lack of his caring of what is best for the children, namely my son. He doesn't even know his birthday, and hasn't attempted to reach out in over a year. His family has never once tried to connect, and never particularly cared to begin with. I TRULY believe all of this is just to get to me because he knows that my children are the most important things to me, and as a true narcissist, doesn't care who is in the way, including young children.
I have diligently documented and compiled evidence to support my case, including copies of court orders and relevant documentation. I have prepared for this trial as though I will have to proceed alone. However, I recognize the limitations of my own legal knowledge and resources in securing a favorable outcome for my children's safety and welfare. I don't want this to come out badly for my son just because I don't have anyone. It's frustrating because I am providing everything for these babies, without help, and he is able to pay for an attorney no problem. Even if he couldn't, his family could.
I will take any comments on this that may help me. I have reached out to what seems like every legal aid group and countless attorneys. I am terrified...

My hands are shaking as I write this, I have to document my story incase something happens to me in the next few days. I'm not sure where to begin but I suppose here is better than anywhere.
I've always had this weird feeling, this sensation inside of me that I was older than I actually was. By the time I was twelve, my soul felt as though it was forty. By the time I reached twenty, I felt like an old woman. I would watch people around my age acting foolish, and I always thought, "What a bunch of children." So it was no surprise to anyone that when I turned twenty-one, I left my hometown and college and decided to spend the summer alone by renting an old farmhouse in an insignificant town on the edge of an even more insignificant border.
When I told my mother, she had a veritable fit, unable to find the words. She spluttered and raged around me for days before I finally left early one morning to avoid her guilt and frustration with my choices. I was not sure why I craved solitude at such a young age, why I found solace in being alone and removed from society.
In high school, I had changed unexpectedly, cutting my long blonde hair short and dying it black, getting piercings that my mother loathed and claimed no young lady should have. You see, my mother was raised proper, as she called it. Good family, good husband, and finally a good life. She despised her perfect life being squashed by my alternative looks and feelings of the same world. She just didn't understand me or the world as it changed around her. I felt like I was just a trophy to her and my father, her perfect angel who had been tainted by my own demented thoughts.
I never told my parents where I was staying, one last rebellious mission before leaving for a few months, and it took me only a few hours to arrive at the farmhouse where I would be staying for the next few months. The land around the farm was dead or dying, old crops rose out of the dry dusty earth and had turned black and forgotten, as if this land was the example of dreams long forgotten and empty. A single dreary lane connected this desolate farmhouse to the rest of the world. On the outside, it was drab and looked as though it would fall apart. It had two stories but still seemed cramped and small, as if it were a single floor tied to the ground.
Across from the house, bordering the tall weeds that had reclaimed much of the farmland, stood a maudlin-looking faded red barn, one door propped open in a dejected manner revealing naught to me but shadows, dust, and a little mystery.
Next to the barn, staked into the ground on an old-looking cross, was a ragged scarecrow. It had drab brown clothing, but its face was oddly realistic, like it was watching me with a disapproving manner. Straw poked through its joints at odd angles like they were trying to break free from their confines. The scarecrow obviously didn't do its job as it was covered in no less than three crows.
I parked my car next to the barn and stepped out into the dusty yard before the farmhouse that I would make my home for the next few months. I checked under the front mat for the key and put it in the lock.
With a satisfying click, the door fell inward into the farmhouse. Surprisingly, the inside of the farmhouse was modern, clean, and looked quite inviting. I could smell the fresh paint on the walls, and everything was so white. The realtor had told me she would stop by tomorrow to collect the rent, and she had tried to chat my ear off on the phone about all the renovations she and her son were doing on the place.
I sighed with contentment and tossed my bags beside the door. I dug around in my bag and removed my camera, my father's old film shooter as he called it. I had taken up the hobby years ago for what I called capturing the oddity in the world.
I explored the small house a little more; the ground floor consisted of a single room and small bathroom with a shower. The bedroom was upstairs and was the only room, the stairs connected directly to the white and pink monstrosity that was the master bedroom. The pillows had laces on them and almost made me gag from the cuteness. There was even cute white lace curtains on the window with little flowers stitched onto them.
Out of the only window of the room, I could see the barn and the scarecrow. I aimed my camera at the pair and snapped a photo. From this angle, the scarecrow appeared to be staring straight at me. It stood next to the left side of the barn in a dejected manner like a chastised child.
A shudder involuntarily ran through me at the sight, but I moved on back downstairs. It was getting close to dinner time now, and I had brought some food with me.
After a few minutes, I had my dinner on the stove cooking and the crickets chirping outside the open window. As I sat down to eat next to the window, I felt at peace for one of the first times in years. The solitude of this old farm was exactly what I needed. The window supplied a nice breeze that wafted through the place, it smelled of grass and warm summer nights, made me feel at peace. The simple dish of spaghetti with tomato sauce and a glass of wine was all that I needed right here, right now in this moment.
That night I climbed into the frilly laced bed and sunk into the claustrophobic mattress. I felt like Goldilocks in the mama bear's bed as it was altogether too soft. From my perfumed bed, I had a good view out the window. I had left the porch light on, and it cast an eerie glow across the yard. The barn loomed ominously, stalwart against the light of the porch, like it was protecting the shadows from the battering ram of light. The somber scarecrow leaned against the left side of the barn.
With a small jump, I thought I saw its arm move slightly. I peered through my camera using the zoom to get a better view of the scarecrow. It was completely still in the night, and I laughed quietly to myself at my silliness. I had always enjoyed horror movies, but there was no chance I was living in one. I settled back into bed and put my camera down. Within a few minutes, I fell into sleep's warm embrace.
What felt like only a few minutes later, I sat up in bed. It was still dark out, I could hear crickets chirping through the open window, and I strained my ears for a moment.
I thought something had woken me up. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as a cold breeze wafted in through the window. I pulled the frilly blanket up around myself when I heard it. A thud sounded below me, shaking the whole world into silence. The crickets stopped chirping, and my heart felt like it had stopped beating. Someone was in the house. I hadn't locked the door or closed the kitchen window, and now someone was downstairs. A second thud sounded like a boot on the staircase. Then another and another as something was slowly moving up the stairs towards the room.
I don't know why I did it, but something came over me. I wasn't big or especially brave, but my normal cowardice in social situations changed instantly. With a dash, I tore across the room, flicking on the lights, ready to face my attacker, to defend myself against male or female. I would fight, and I would win.
But as the lights turned on, ready to strike with my foot, nothing was there. The staircase was empty, and upon further inspection, the entire house was empty. The kitchen window was open, and I shut and locked it securely before checking the door. Nothing. I sat down on the couch, my heart pounding out of my chest, as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
"I must have still been half-asleep," I said aloud to the room in a thinly veiled attempt to calm my nerves. It failed horribly, but I went with it. What else could you do in a situation like that?
After locking up the house, I went back up to that frilly four-poster bed in the bedroom and stared out the window. Nothing was in the yard except my car, the barn, and the same old sad-looking scarecrow staring across the yard.
Day 2
The next morning, I woke up to the soft light filtering through the lace curtains. Despite the strange events of the previous night, I felt strangely refreshed, as if the morning sun had chased away the shadows that lingered in my mind.
I descended the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under my weight, and headed to the kitchen. As I brewed a pot of coffee, my mind wandered back to the events of last night. Was it just a figment of my imagination, or was there really someone in the house?
Shaking off the unease, I decided to explore the farmhouse in the daylight. I wandered through the room, admiring the modern renovations that clashed with the rustic exterior. The farmhouse had a charm to it, despite its eerie surroundings.
As I made my way outside, the cool morning air greeted me, and I took a deep breath, letting the serenity of the countryside wash over me. The barn stood tall against the backdrop of the morning sky, and the scarecrow seemed to watch me as I crossed the yard.
I approached the barn, curiosity getting the better of me. Pushing open the creaky door, I stepped inside, the musty scent of hay filling my nostrils. The interior was dimly lit, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls.
I explored every nook and cranny of the barn, but found nothing out of the ordinary. As I turned to leave, something caught my eye. In the corner of the barn, hidden beneath a pile of old blankets, was a small wooden chest.
My heart racing with anticipation, I lifted the lid of the trunk and peered inside. What I found took my breath away. It was a collection of old photographs, yellowed with age, depicting scenes from a bygone era. They were of a man with his family, two young kids, and a beautiful young wife. The man had yellow blonde hair, almost like straw in texture, but he smiled so happily with his family.
I sifted through the photographs, my fingers trembling with excitement. Who had left these behind, and why? Each photograph seemed to tell a story, a glimpse into the past of this forgotten farmhouse.
As I sat there, lost in thought, a sudden noise jolted me back to reality. It was the sound of footsteps coming from outside the barn.
"Hello?" The dreamy voice of a woman called to me from the entrance to the barn.
I slammed the lid of the trunk shut, closing the memories up in a flurry as I spun around to be greeted by a quite pretty woman with blonde hair and a pink suit skirt combo. She had bright pink lipstick, that seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face, and quite shiny and sparkly blue eye shadow on her lids. I myself only wore black eyeliner. This woman was like Barbie in her proportions, thin waist, long hair, and large tracts of land, as my father would have said.
"Oh, hello," I said simply, always awkward in normal social situations.
If she noticed anything odd about me, she breezed over it in an easy manner. Taking me by the shoulders, she led me out of the dusty barn and into the yard.
"You must be Polly. We have been waiting a while for you to come. I simply must know what you think of the renovations to the house. Aren’t they just to die for?" The lady said all in one breath, as if she didn’t need air to speak.
"Yes, they are quite nice..." I started before she cut me off, not in a rude manner but instead in one that she would have continued on even if I had just told her I was not Polly and instead I was a mass murderer looming for my next victim.
"You see, me and my son Eli—yes, Eli, you stop lurking in the shadows over there," she said, continuing on as I noticed a younger man leaning up against the barn. He wore simple clothes of jeans and a white t-shirt but had a handsome face. His hair was brown and hung slightly over his eyes.
"I hope you don’t mind if my son here continues working on some renovations while you stay here? Strictly on the outside of the house, mind you. A fresh coat of white paint would make this little beauty shine. We would have finished by now if not for the accidents," she continued, completely unabashed by my silence.
"Sorry. But you are the realtor?" I said, trying to regain my feet under me.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry, dear!" she said with an affable cackle.
"Yes, yes, I am Barbara, but all my friends call me Barb. That over there is Eli. Eli, come say hi," Barb said while her painted talons rested firmly on my shoulder.
Eli stomped over, keeping his eyes low, in a sort of moody way that actually intrigued me, sort of.
When he glanced up at me, I noticed he drank in me from head to toe, and for the first time, I realized what I was wearing. An old rock t-shirt of one of my favorite bands and, of all things, my black pajama bottoms with cartoon bats on them that said "happy halloween."
I felt my face blush crimson as he made eye contact with me. He had very mysterious eyes of blue that seemed to cut right through my soul.
"Nice shirt," he said while gesturing to me. His voice was quiet and uncertain, as if he didn’t get much practice with the art. Knowing his mother, it seemed highly accurate.
"Thanks. Do you like them?" I asked.
"Oh, he likes all sorts of things, don’t you, Eli? Honestly, you two can gab on forever. But miss, I believe we have a small matter of payment," Barb said, drawing the conversation back to herself.
"Of course. Let me go get it," I said as I went back into the house and retrieved the envelope with the rent money in it.
Barb grabbed the envelope in her bright pink talons and snapped a piece of bubblegum between her teeth. With quick fingers, she leafed through the cash, counting it. As she counted, her normal bubbly personality seemed to disappear, giving way to what I gleaned was her true thoughts and feelings before the facade slipped on once again.
"Mmkay, perfect honey, this is the right amount. Now you have my number, so you call if you need anything. Like I said earlier, Eli will stop by from time to time to work on painting the house. I promise you he won’t be an imposition, just pay him no mind," Barb said in a sweet voice as she popped her gum in between each word.
"Eli, come on, please, I have an appointment in town," Barb said to her son, and they both climbed into a garish pink convertible with jewels hanging from the mirror wrapped in a gold chain.
Barb waved one last time as she sped off out of the driveway, covering me in dust as she spun the wheel around.
With their departure, I went inside and retrieved my camera. I spent a few minutes shooting a few pictures I thought were worthy. I re-entered the barn and pulled the old trunk out into the sunshine. Inside was only a handful of photos, some old clothes, and what looked like some old heirlooms. A beautifully old candlestick and a few leather-bound books lay at the bottom, covered by an old tablecloth. The tablecloth was a nice white with intricate swirling patterns inlaid around the edges.
Why would these things be packed away in here? They were so beautiful. I decided to bring the stuff inside for further inspection. As I lifted the trunk, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something move in the tall grass at the edge of the property. I stared for a minute, but nothing moved again. I must be getting jumpy being alone like this. After last night and then this, I was just imagining things.
I brought the items inside and spread them out. I put the tablecloth on the table, and it hung low to the ground. I placed the candlestick by the window and took out the photos again, spreading them out.
The photos told me a story of a loving family that obviously lived in the farmhouse before me. They had a photo next to the barn, with a brand new looking scarecrow in the back. The man even had his arm around it; it looked so much cleaner and proper in this photo. I stared outside at the sad-looking scarecrow.
I took my camera and the photo and went outside to stand next to the scarecrow. His post hung kind of crooked in the earth like it was weighed down by the scarecrow.
I snapped a photo of the scarecrow as it was, then examined the original photo. I began resettling the post in the ground, but it kept sagging. I decided to pull him out of the ground and move him while I added more dirt to his hole. With some effort, I reseated him into his original hole. He already looked better, but I straightened his clothes and pulled out the last bits of straw that stuck out of his clothes. When I was finished, I looked back at him and took a photo, smiling while I did so at my work.
I then spent some time sweeping the front porch and banging the dust out of the cushions before I curled up on a wicker chair with plump cushions for a few hours reading a book I had brought with me.
I felt quite content at this place. The sounds of the crickets began again, putting me at ease as the sun began to descend. I had spent the entire day just relaxing, and it was perfect. I sat sprawled out in the chair, too lazy to go and make dinner or even move. My bladder was full, but I waited until the last moment before dashing inside and relieving myself.
That's when I noticed it, out in the yard. It seemed as if the scarecrow had moved closer. Once shrouded by the barn slightly, it now had moved a few steps into the light from the porch. My heart dropped at the sight. Not again, I must be asleep on the porch in the chair. I pinched myself, trying to wake up, but all I received was a sore arm.
I closed my eyes, then rubbed them, hoping to dispel whatever plagued my mind, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed the scarecrow was even closer. Halfway across the yard now, it sat menacingly, hanging crooked in the dirt. The scarecrow seemed to be staring at me with an intense gaze. The slits in its face were open now, and in the porch light, I swear I could see human eyes underneath the mask.
I moved towards the front door, locking it in a swift motion. I was shaking now, and it took me a minute to relax. I never took my eyes off the scarecrow for fear of it moving again.
My cellphone was upstairs, so I couldn't flee without the scarecrow moving again. I breathed out slightly and unlocked the door, letting it swing in with a creak. The night outside was silent, as if everything was holding its breath. The usual crickets that plagued me with their song day and night had fallen quiet. I stepped out onto the porch; I needed to go confront this demonic entity. Something about this still made me think this was a prank.
"Eli, is that you?" I called out to the scarecrow.
No response, of course. I steeled myself and put one foot off the porch, never taking my eyes off the scarecrow before me. Something seemed to be dripping from its head as I approached, a dark slime that seemed to be melting from its joints as it stood there silently, except for the constant drip of the liquid on the dry dirt before me.
I walked around the scarecrow, determined to figure out what was going on. As I circled it, my vision darkened for a moment as I faced towards the light of the house. I jumped as the scarecrow's head turned to face me as I looked away. The black liquid drained faster from the being, forming a shallow pool at its feet.
I'm not proud of what I did next, but I fled, taking my eyes off the scarecrow. I made a mad dash for the farmhouse. Behind me, I could hear the pounding of feet. I screamed as loud as my lungs would let me. My voice rang through the silence as I grabbed the door handle and wrenched open the door as I felt a strong grip fall on my shoulder.
I turned to defend myself, but nothing was there. The scarecrow was gone, the wooden cross had vanished, as had the pool of dark liquid in the dirt. The world sprung back to life; the crickets began chirping loudly, and my heart restarted. I slammed the door, and the air from my force scattered the photographs on the table. I ran upstairs, leaving the lights on in the house, and dove onto the bed, wrapping myself in the frilly blanket like a set of frilly armor.
I snatched my camera from the bedside table and held it close, determined to document the rest of the night. I held it in shaking hands as the noise downstairs began—the sound of boots crossing the floor to the stairs and the careful but heavy steps of ascension as they climbed closer and closer to me.
This time, I didn't lunge forward as the light was already on. I glanced out the window, but the scarecrow was still gone. I focused my camera on the stairs and waited as the steps came closer and closer. A shape began to form as the head of whatever was coming up the stairs crested the floor. Then a plain brown mask with slits where the eyes would be. It froze for a moment, then slowly turned its head towards me. Inside the slits were human eyes that seemed to be leaking dark red blood.
In the light, I could see it now. I snapped a photo of the beast, the flash setting off a reaction in the beast. The scarecrow moved so fast up the stairs it was a blur. My scream echoed throughout the house as it lunged at me. Filthy hands pinned me down, and the deep crimson liquid began pouring out of every joint of the scarecrow. It began covering my face, my eyes, and getting into my open mouth. I spluttered and kicked at the beast, but my blows had no purchase, as if the scarecrow on top of me had no substance to itself.
I coughed and spluttered on the liquid as it began to fill my mouth faster and faster. I tried not to swallow any, but it tried to find purchase as I was held down.
"Polly?" A nervous voice called from below.
Suddenly, as if the angels had called, the pressure dissipated, and I crashed to the floor in a heap, trying to spit the blood out, but nothing came—it was gone. Footsteps pounded up the stairs again, and I flew back in fear, closing my eyes.
"Oh my god. Polly, are you okay?" A voice said, and gentle hands grabbed my arm.
My eyes shot open at the human touch, and I grabbed Eli into a tight hug, where I promptly began sobbing in fear, my whole body shaking as Eli awkwardly hugged me.
"Don't worry, it's going to be okay," Eli said patiently to me as he hugged me back gently and began stroking my back.
I shivered in a choking sob and fell into his arms, desperately wanting to believe him, and for some reason, I did.

I am 24 years old.
Both of my wisdom tooth are FULLY impacted (not even a bit visible) and horizontally facing (#38 & #48).
I had one of them removed about three years ago (#48). It was very close to the nerve, thankfully no damage at all.
Now I need to get rid of the other (#38). I have permanent inflammation there and I have been having pain lately. It is very similar to the one I had removed, but I think this one is even closer to the nerve.
Here are some pictures attached (these were taken just before I had my other wisdom tooth removed):
Panoramic: https://imgur.com/a/cc6d7YJ
CBCT (?): https://imgur.com/a/s8YvjRm (it's in another language but I guess you can understand what's happening). Orange should should be the nerve. I can't really read it though, I don't know exactly what I am seeing, how close the tooth really is to the nerve etc.
For the record, this is the CBCT for the one I had removed: https://imgur.com/a/u84bX66
I believe the other one was easier? Less closer to the nerve? Or am I wrong?
Of course these are questions I will ask my oral surgeon, but I would like to get as many opinions as possible. I am really scared of possible nerve damage. I have heard cases where their nerve was damaged and they couldn't feel part of their mouth, their speaking was affected etc. It's horrible. Then at the same time, I have pain here and there, also permanent inflammation above the tooth. I don't know what to do. It feels like a case of:
I do the surgery? High risk of nerve damage = goodbye
I don't do the surgery? Permanent inflammation, pains here and there, potential damage to the other tooth (#37) etc.

I know coronectomy is an option but even for this procedure I have heard not so good things. Since a part of the tooth is left inside, it can cause many issues, infections, this and that.

Based on your experience, what do you suggest me to do? The more opinions I have from professionals/people with knowledge, the better decision I can make. Thank you!

I don't really know whether to call this AITA, WIBTA, or petty revenge, but it's a fun story. Also, it is a little long, so I apologize. I (F18), am in my first year of college. I have stayed friends with a group of 4 other girls since age 16 when our friend group founded. I haven't been as close to them recently, but I'm wondering if I'm just over reacting. (BTW, I went an all girls school, so no boy drama).
When I was 16, I was new to my school. It wasn't a super welcoming environment and I was quite unpopular. Introducing Eliza. She calls herself my first friend, but I was actually originally friends with a girl who is insignificant in this story. I clung to Eliza in my first 5 months at school, as I was scared and had never been new to a school before. After a while, Eliza informed me that another girl, Venom, thought I was "stealing her away". I was pretty shocked. However, I starting hanging out with her less and less.
Venom wasn't the only one. Willa, another friend of Eliza was also jealous of me. I was partnered with her for a group project, and we got along quite well. By 2/3 of the way into the school year, we had chosen to sit together in snack, meaning we would have to see each other each day for 15 minutes for a month (we got pick our seats but after we picked, we couldn't move). After the first month, we always chose to sit together. I remember Eliza approaching me and asking if we were friends. Not too long after, SIX formed. This was our friend group name, though there was only 5 of us.
When the friend group formed, I mostly knew of Alex by reputation. She was kind, caring, shy, and in all ways the opposite of a high school mean girl. She was also very smart. The friend group formed because we all loved writing, mystery, violence, and fun. We immediately became close knit, something I didn't realize was so toxic until this year. I remember when we started letting people in it caused drama and Willa said "It's better just the 5 of us." We became so close because we came together to start an etsy store together. Anyways, either right before SIX founded or right after, I was partnered with Alex by the same teacher who started me and Willa's friendship. We bonded and I really enjoyed her company.
By the end of 11th grade, I had a close knit group and people who I believed cared about me. I haven't mentioned the fifth one yet, but nothing significant happened between us until this year. We most hung out of nesecity.
12 grade was mostly uneventful. In fall, SIX disbanded, as Alex though running a business was too dramatic and hard for seniors. We stayed friends, but it marked the end of an era in our friendship. Next, I will go over all the toxic encounters I have had with these people from 12 grade and the start of college, as well as why I dumped them and my petty revenge.
Eliza:
She tends to be distant and uses information to manipulate and show favor. Stills, she is overall the best in the group. She could easily be manipulating us all. She's also jealous when I talk to anyone not in SIX. Like all my "friends" she always took Mary's side in every argument.
Willa:
She said "If I wasn't friends with you, no one would like you." She also told me she uses all her friends. She also uses information to manipulate and show favor. She is jealous when I talk to anyone not in SIX. and of course, she always took Mary's side in every argument
Alex:
She set too high of an expectation of perfection. She gossips about Willa and Eliza to me. She also lied to my face about something, which made me question if she was lying about other things. She never cared when I was upset or sad and never asked if I was ok. No surprise, the queen of perfect also always took Mary's side in every argument.
Mary:
We became friends by gossiping about how annoying Alex is and stuff. She is very judgy and we never got along well. She was going through a lot but never saw that I was going through similar things.
Okay, so that was the backstory. I apologize again for how long it was. It all came out when we were going to a party this year. On the bus I was texting a friend from before I went to the school I met them at. She had heard all my concerns because she doesn't know these people and when I told her I was sitting next to Eliza and Willa she said "They're such bitches." she quickly unsent it and said "I hate them for being so mean to u", but the damage was done. Willa saw the text was really mad and upset. However, we moved past it and Mary and Alex stole mt hair ties. I chased them around, though I was actually annoyed and just wanted my things back. I got one back and then took one of Mary's until she gave mine back. She yelled at me because Alex had taken mine and I told her that they had hidden it together nad she could give it back. Five seconds later, she's so sad because she just wanted it back, and we are screaming at each other. Alex comes to ask me my side of the story and says "Oh don't worry Mary isn't mad at you, she just feels bad for you because everyone hates you." and "Oh I should leave, I don't want Mary to be suspicious I'm talking to you." I laughed both of these of but was actually pretty hurt. I went home soon after and I haven't talked to Mary or Alex since. Both of tried to contact me but I haven't responded.
Ok so recently I had an idea. I need to know if it's too petty. So I mentioned we all like writing. All of us (except Willa) have been writing a story that is 80 ish pages now. I haven't written on it in a while because I wanted to give Mary and Alex space but recently I noticed that the characters are based on us. I, of course, am the villain. It isn't based on real events so it's not like things I've done, just a girl with my name being evil. I noticed that I'm the owner and I'm wondering if I would be justified to remove all of them from it. I know it's evil, but they treated me badly and even my friend, who showed me a lot of ways I'm in the wrong in the past said that I should do it. I know it would be evil, but I want some kind of revenge. Would it be worth it? Any other times I'm in the wrong that I haven't noticed? Please let me know.
TL;DR:
I have been friends with a group of 4 girls since age 16, but I haven't been as close to them recently. I experienced different forms of toxic behavior with each friend in 11th and 12th grades, including their always taking Mary's side in every argument. We got into a petty argument about when I took back her hair ties from Mary and Alex after they stole them. Mary also said everyone hates me. So, am I justified in removing them from a story they have been writing together because they feel that they have been portraying me as the villain? I am considering this as a form of revenge for being treated badly by my friends. I am also seeking feedback on any wrongdoings I may have committed in this story.
Thank you so much for reading!

I had advancement flap surgery in January to treat a transphincteric, branching fistula with two external openings. It failed after four weeks. A seton was put back in, and I have a follow-up to discuss next steps with my doctor this week. I'm curious if those of you who have gone through something like this can share your experiences, so I have some frame of reference when I see my doctor and plan our next steps?
Background: I'm a 40yo male. I had a fissure in late 2019, which "healed" without surgery by early 2021. (The pandemic threw a wrench into doing much more, treatment-wise, than nitro cream plus "wait and see.") After feeling good for most of the year, something started to feel "off," so I got a colonoscopy. My surgeon removed an inflamed polyp near where the fissure had ended; a few weeks later there was internal drainage, and by New Year's I was back in the OR to have an abscess drained internally. This didn't heal, and eventually turned into a fistula. A seton was put in and three months went by, but just before my scheduled LIFT procedure a second external opening formed, and so another seton was added, and surgery put off another few months. With the now horseshoe-shaped fistula, we opted go for a FLAP. It looked good, and the pain was manageable... I took it easy, worked from home laying sideways on a couch for almost a month, but all of a sudden it swelled up one afternoon and burst by the next day. Another trip to the OR, a seton was put back in, and it was determined that the FLAP had somehow failed from the non-stitched edge of the triangle.
The only thing that has me feeling positive about this whole thing is that the second tract is still closed -- and the failed FLAP may have at least closed off one side. We haven't had an MRI yet, but fingers crossed, the second opening still appears/feels closed.

Red brick castles stacked the suburban streets. Divided by side yards and dogs barking. The sun laid crisp over the spliced horizon, spilling yolk over the withering lawns.
Henry waited in his lawn chair beside the mailbox. As his body had taken recent liberties, he'd remained fit from his army training. His throat rumbled as he checked his silver watch. Finally, the postman flushed the corner, and stumbled to Henry's curb, to his bag, then to his letter.
"...you're late, Lenny," Henry pulled his readers.
Lenny, the paperboy, regained his choppy breath. Coke-bottle glasses stored his tortoise eyes. They surveyed the concrete corridor they called Gerben Street, "I'm sorry, Mr. Bronson, I really am. I never meant to keep you waiting... I'm sorry, Henry."
Henry didn't answer the boy, tore the envelope with ape's elegance. Pranced the script of his lover's ink. The letter had traveled from Paris, France, skidded the black waves of the Atlantic Ocean, hitched buses, bikes, and buggies, all to kiss the smooth of Henry's palms.
The words were from his lover, Amélie, he'd met at war in an escapade to Bordeaux. It was here he'd kissed her cherry cheeks, and they'd made love only a year before.
Amélie talked of finer things, life and love and silver tastes. She yearned for Henry, and hadn't taken a lover since. Sleeping all alone, cold as the sleepy ocean in between them.
Love,
Amélie
Those four letters, strung together. Followed by that name, that haunted, horrible, beautiful name. The music of Henry's life, a distant harp in a sway of windy trees.
Henry spent all night beneath a dancing candle. Scribbling, nixing, finding the perfect words. Rifling through Shakespeare, and Plath, and Wilde. It was at the page's end, Henry wrote, what he knew he'd write in the weeks and weeks before:
"Oh, Amélie, won't you visit me? Here in the States? I know you don't like the food. I don't either, but with each other, me with you, and you with me, we'll ever, never notice."
He entered the post office that morning, and his reply was off to France. The weeks and weeks had passed again, crawling to November's end. Henry waited by that same mailbox, and waited, and waited, but nothing arrived in the days after.
He entered the post office that cold evening, and met the clerk, who's eyes tired with crescent glints. Henry demanded his mail be delivered to him, scolding the patient clerk, providing his address thereafter.
The clerk, a powdered, faded beauty of a woman, "we had a change in paperboys. We're putting a new employee on that route by Gerben Street."
"Oh no, that's a shame," Henry dampened. He enjoyed the paperboy, Lenny, and his weekly company. He'd felt shame for their final, frustrated exchange. The clerk retreated to a backroom, and returned with a letter from France.
Henry couldn't help himself. He ripped and ripped the note naked. Read the first and fourth and tens of lines.
"There isn't a night I don't think of you. I wander stars wondering if you do too. Your touch, your breath, your arms. I receive the memory fondly in a summer's dream, and I don't forget a word you've said along the way. I love you, Henry Bronson. And this ocean, though far and wide, won't stop the heart from sailing. Because our children will know silver dreams too, and what parents we'd be to not make them true. You are the love of my life. The music of my night.
I'll arrive in Savannah on the evening of Christmas Eve.
Love,
Amélie"
The words strummed his chest. Henry rose his eyes to the world anew, because Amélie, his beloved Amélie——was coming to visit at last.
Henry was paralyzed in weeks to come. His lawn, unattended, his sink, stacked with dishes. He stared his only photo of Amélie, smiling at her blushed eyes for hours and hours and hours. In this love he'd been born again, a new meaning in every little thing.
It was finally time——Christmas Eve. Snow peppered the sheets of the crystal tarmac. Henry entered the airport, propelled by the stride of anxious confidence. He coursed the halls, until he'd arrived at the final gate:
PARIS, FRANCE [ARRIVING IN 4 MINUTES]
Minutes became years, years decades. He walked to the bar and asked for a glass of water. Flushed his throat with fretting sips, and noticed the custodian who mopped spilled coffee. A familiar face, though, Henry couldn't pin him. He approached, and to his surprise, it was the old paperboy, Lenny.
They shared a laugh and began to catch up. Henry's eyes flirting with the gate:
[ARRIVING IN 2 MINUTES]
Lenny rambled, "they canned me without warning, right before the holidays. I've struggled to make due, but——I guess it's all worked out okay," he paused, "funny enough——I was en route to deliver on your street before I got the call. Gerben Street, right?"
[ARRIVING IN 1 MINUTE]
Henry's heart thumped like a derby horse. He glanced the snow that flaked the window.
"Yeah, Gerben."
"Gerben, yeah, I thought I remembered," Lenny nodded, "you know, Mr. Bronson, I think I left your letter in my backpack, actually. Would you like me to check?"
"Sure."
Lenny was off, and as he left, Frenchmen, women, and decadent Americans flooded the gate's entrance. Pulling luggage, sighing stretches, lending hugs. Henry watched carefully for his cherry, silver dream. To each face, he paid his attention. Lenny nudged Henry, handed over the envelope.
"Thanks," Henry took the note, "Merry Christmas... I'll see you around, I hope."
"Sure," Lenny shuddered in embarrassment. His somber step parted from Henry, he replied with a mumbled, "Merry Christmas."
In the later minutes, Henry didn't see Amélie, or even a confused resemblance. He waited till the plane was empty, till the Spain-bound passengers began to board. He even checked the desk, where a pretty-faced lady exclaimed, "no Amélie here, I'm sorry." With great disappointment, Henry exited the airport, never leaving the sight of his fluttered feet.
Even for Henry, a man of hope and perseverance, it was too hard not to cry. He hailed a taxi, directed the driver with snotty tremble, and soon enough, he was home in his red brick house, at home where the houses stacked the streets, and the streets tickled with frost.
In that dark room, where Henry wrote Amélie, was where the music died. Where the wind had swallowed the galloped harp. Henry cried, cursed himself a fool. A fool, a fool, a fool. He'd hoped as a child, now damned a hopeless recluse. His sorrow turned to confusion, confusion to frustration, frustration to rage anew.
He leapt from his chair, struck a match, lit a wick, plucked a pen, placed his paper, and before the ink would paint the page, before he'd damn Amélie to Hell, her and her cherry cheeks, he remembered the letter the paperboy had given him.
Henry removed the crumpled letter from his coat, peeled the stick of the envelope. Slipped the letter from its sleeve, pulled his readers, and began to prance the ink in reading.
Amélie, again, talked of finer things. Gifts, and gods, and golden fountains.
She couldn't wait any longer, to meet her beloved Henry.
She couldn't sleep another night, with this space between.
The black waves, the buses, bikes and buggies. All the things from her to he.
It should not wait. No, it could not wait any longer.
Henry dabbed his eyes clear and clean, as he read the final words:
"Henry, oh, Henry, I never meant to keep you waiting. You never quite knew what you meant to me."
Henry lowered his eyes to the page's end, to the bottom of the longing letter:
Love,
Yours Truly,
Lenny