Stabbing pain in armpit | | Book of Desire

Margaret loved being a librarian, but it could be awfully dreary at times. It was a slow Saturday afternoon at GreenMeadows library with hardly a patron in site. Being in the center of a major city, she figured there were a plethora of places people would rather entertain themselves with than a library. She almost envied those who seemed to be too busy for everything. The only thing Margaret had going on in her life was flower garden and ever growing collection of books. Most of her friends already had boyfriends so her lack of a significant other only served to emphasize the mundanity of her life.
She tried not to let it get to her. Her life was boring but there wasn't any need to dwell on it. With a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and a book in the other, Margaret idly passed the time until she heard a loud thud from the library center. She got up from her desk to see what it was. Everyone else had already left so she should've been the only one there. She walked down the hall and saw a large black book laying on the floor. The front and back were completely blank and there was no ISBN number in sight.
Intrigued, Margaret picked up the book and returned to the desk. She flipped open the first page to find handwritten notes.
" Today I met a Goddess. She surrounds herself in a labyrinth of ancient tomes to feed her endless thirst of knowledge. More than any book, I want to know the contents of her heart."
Now Margaret was REALLY interested. It looked like someone had left behind their journal. She normally wasn't one to pry into other's business, but some wholesome voyeurism could potentially spice up her life. With each page, the writer went into more detail about their love for their crush.
" A beauty robed in a cloak of shadow Her hair, a caramel river Lips that speak of her vermillion passion Could her perfection be any more grand?"
That passage made Margaret pause. The description of black clothes, brown hair, and red lipstick sounded a lot like her. Still, it was vague enough that it could apply to any woman so she didn't give it too much thought. She took a sip of her chocolate and read on.
" I know the Goddess will never grace me so I can only admire her from afar. Sometimes she trades her black robes for floral ones, perhaps in homage of the garden she looks over. A duo of felines accompany her as she imbues her garden with seeds of her love."
Margaret froze. The writer didn't just know her appearance, but also her gardening hobby and two pet cats. This wasn't something she could just pass off as coincidence. A morbid curiosity compelled her to read even more.
Picnics in the park Buying a new bike A trip to a Cafe while wearing a pink cardigan.
Several of her routines were laid bare within the book with stark detail. The writer knew her favorites foods, her local supermarket, the brand of soap she used, and even the exact time of her last bath. The last passage Margaret read was enough to make her blood turn to ice.
" Today I finally steeled the nerves to make the Goddess notice me. I crafted a love elixir to win her heart. It will take the form of her favorite drink. With luck on my side, I added the elixir to her chocolate while she relieved herself in the bathroom. I can see her drinking from her lipstick stained cup even now. Oh Margaret, I cannot wait for you to be mine."
A stabbing pain that gripped Margaret's heart sent her tumbling to the floor. Her thoughts became erratic and her field of vision diminished by the second. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was shadowy man towering over her, his chesire grin being the only discernable feature.
" Hello my Goddess. Are you ready to consummate our love?"

Genocide looked to the sky. He thought of his mentor. The one who had saved him. He remembered his childhood. How powerless he was. He remembered the anger. He never wanted to hurt anybody. He thought of all the times he showed compassion. How much they hurt him for it. He saw the world before him, a graveyard. Humans. People that were supposed to be made in the image of some divine creator. They were but maggots feasting upon his remains. They ate away at his very being until nothing human remained. His thoughts were no longer his own. He had no joys in life that mattered. He hated humanity more than he could love anything about himself. He remember his first killing spree. Being gunned down by police. Left for dead. He remembered a hooded figure moving towards him. Getting closer the more he neared his death. He saw its pale face. Its impossibly black eyes. It was a man. This figure in question appeared to be of Japanese nationality with long, straight, loose hair. It emanated extreme malice. It offered him a choice. A purpose. Power. He thought the figure a reaper but it identified itself as Amakusa Masataka. Masataka guided him on how to kill and gave him specific locations to kill people in. In a sense, he became a hitman for quotas of people. He inquired what Masataka was. The presence of evil, his ability to appear and disappear at will, how he could control what people could see him and what people couldn't. While vague, years of killing for this being offered some insight. Amakusa Masataka belonged to a group of people not of this world. His people had been corrupted by a dark force long ago and had aligned themselves with the warlord who had subjugated their version of Japan. Their dark high priest assisted the warlord along with two others. These four rulers in turn served a larger order. The four were tasked with bringing about the end of the current world as an act of retribution for some fallen deity. Masataka's people acted as covert operatives for this empire. They were feared across the land and were collectively referred to as "Shinigami". An agent of the coming apocalypse, a servant of evil possessed by the will of those gods of death, Genocide would walk the earth.
Genocide stepped toward the station. A police cruiser rammed into him. He pulled out a knife and stabbed the hood of the car. The inhuman force of the knife created sparks which burst the engine into flames. The car crashed into a streetlight and exploded. A second cruiser neared the scene. No way a man could have done this. Yet still, out of the fires Genocide strode forth. It set upon the second vehicle, shooting out it's tires while jumping 9 feet into the air. The car tries to reverse but crashes into a wall. Genocide lands on the hood and kicks through the front window. Glass shatters under its boot, blinding the two officers inside. Genocide shoots one of the officers with a shotgun, killing him. The second officer in the passenger seat readies his pistol and takes aim. Only two shots fired, both directed at Genocide's head. It casually cocks its neck to avoid them. Then it grabs the officer's arm, breaking it. Genocide uses its free hand to grab the officer's head and bangs it into the dashboard no less than 5 times. The skull is shattered on the final impact. Genocide jumps off the car and continues on his mission.
Detective Evans speaks through a megaphone," This is your first and final warning. Stand down or we will use any and all means at our disposal to put you down." Genocide dropped its shotgun and raised its hands. A group of five SWAT team members rushed out the station, surrounding Genocide with riot shields. An officer accompanies them, edging behind the figure to apply handcuffs. Suddenly, Genocide springs to life , grabbing the officer behind him. He flips the officer over his head, slamming him into the pavement at his feet. Then Genocide stomps his head causing it to burst. Genocide drops a flash bomb from his coat sleeve, blinding the SWAT team as he draws his knife. He drives it into one SWAT member, the knife puncturing the shield and piercing his chest. Genocide kicks the corpse away withdrawing his knife. He goes to another, this time using the end of his boot toe in a rising kick to disarm their shield. He grabs them by the throat and drives the knife slowly into their eye socket. Another is tackled to the ground and beaten to death despite still being under the shield. Another is picked up and thrown into the fires still burning from the first auto incident. In no time, Genocide stood before an indistinguishable mass of gore, blood streaking across his black leather outfit. He laughed" So this is all you can give me. I'm not entertained." Officers took aim from the station windows, and snipers did so from other rooftops. Genocide laughed maniacally as he was rained down upon from all sides by a hailstorm of bullets. His body convulsed, but he did not fall. Moments more and he was on his knees. Still though, their efforts were futile. Gracia looked out and saw a black mist coalescing around the man in black. His blood. Blood erupted from his body only to transform into this dark mist that reentered his wounds. Genocide screamed. No. It was just an elevated pitch in his laughter. Optimism failed everyone yet again. Gracia saw Genocide holding something in his right hand. She could only make out a beeping red light. Genocide pushed the button triggering the carefully concealed explosives he laid in preparation for this event. C4 explosives went off in all the places he saw fit. The sniping posts he couldn't reach. The assault of lead lightened. Then Genocide drew an RPG from...somewhere. He collected himself and fired at the station's entrance. The explosion shook the station. From inside, the lights began to flicker. Communications were down on all fronts. Had he modified the rocket with some type of EMP? Not good. Amisdst the confusion Genocide entered using smoke bombs to mask his presence. Moving like a shadow, he killed everyone in the lobby silently with his knife. He made his way to the holding cells. Still they chanted. Still they praised. Still they raved for the arrival of genocide. Genocide shot the lock opening the cell. Jim Jimenez walked out and bowed before his master. Genocide smiled. He couldn't have imagined how proficient he had gotten with possession. Well, not quite possession. He had known of the Shinigami's ability to share their thoughts and emotions with humans. Shinigami like his mentor were ancient. They had so many years of memories, such strong a hatred for life that they overwhelmed the personality of the victim. The victim sees themselves as one of them. Shinigami can't force the will of the victim, so they find those who are already similar to them in some way. Genocide found the collective universal distrust of police to be a prime sentiment to capitalize on. He armed the inmates, infecting them with samples of his own dark essence.One particular inmate caught Genocide's eye. He knew the man's work. An arsonist. The one whom he recalls was responsible for blowing up his first car way back in high school. Rather than a standard firearm, Genocide gave the man a random assortment of grenades containing a special surprise. Genocide showed them visions of anarchy, of sending a message to a society that used and disregarded them. While this was also true of how he felt, years of living in darkness had changed him. He needed no purpose. No end goal. No justification. He just wanted to watch the world burn.
Genocide's small army broke off to engage several different wings of the station. Genocide went to the security room. He found Wayne, his informant, playing some FPS on one of the monitors. Wayne took of his headphones and asked," You kill everyone yet?" Genocide responded," No. You should get going before that happens. Your life becomes fair game if I run out of pigs to cook." Wayne clapped his hands, "Aight, GC my man, say less." He packed his things and left. Genocide drew a twin pair of handguns and laid waste to the station. He followed a group that took cover in the men's restroom. Kicking open multiple stalls he was surprised to find...nothing. Where had they gone? He turned around and saw his mentor, Masataka, smiling at him. It looked like him. Long, dark hair, black clothing, and soulless, empty eyes. But it wasn't. It was Genocide's own reflection in the mirror. Genocide smiled. He didn't notice the changes at first. They must have happened gradually. Subconsciously. From the final stall, an officer sprung into action, rushing Genocide, hitting him point blank with a shockgun round. Genocide felt the tingling sensation electrifying his body and grew numb. In spite of the pain, he took a single step. Then, another. He came within striking range of the officer and snatched the shockgun. Two more officers erupted from another stall, battering him with baton strikes. Genocide felt nothing. He clutched the shockgun in his hand like a bat and went to work pulverizing his attackers. An officer kicked in the bathroom door, a woman holding a pistol. She fired multiple times to no effect. Genocide stood covered in blood. He even let her reload. Twice. He wanted to see her despair. Her hopelessness. He walked towards her, shrugging off bullets as they pierced his body. His wounds healed nigh instantly due to the dark essence he had been imbued with. He held her face with both hands, lifting her body off the ground. As she screamed, he used her head to shatter the restroom mirror, running down the full length of it while smashing her into it at several points. He dropped the remains of what he held, washed his hands with soap, dried them, then exited the restroom.
The inmates that rallied for the cause of genocide attacked the station. Fortunately, they were nowhere near Genocide in terms of power and only carried one type of firearm each. They shared his healing ability but could be killed quite easily. Gracia encountered a sniper on the end or a west wing hallway. Other officers waited behind corners unable to get close. Gracia noticed the faulty lighting. In this hallway, the lights flickered in intervals of 3 seconds. Finding a pattern and timing her movements, she rushed the sniper at the exact moment the lights went out. Running the length of the hall, Gracia zigzagged, dodging the sniper inmate's bullets. She jumped on a wall, ran 3 feet on it, then kicked off it, pouncing on the assailant. She fired five shots into him, making sure to hit the brain and the heart. Two severe injuries that were impossible for Shinigami essence to heal simultaneously. Elsewhere, Evans took on another escaped inmate. A vehicular arsonist named Carson. Carson had a bag filled with an assortment of different grenades and was happily giving them out like candy on Halloween. "A flash bang here, a bit of tear gas there. Oh. Wait! Was that an ice grenade? Did the explosion freeze your leg to the floor? Whoops. Maybe a fire grenade will melt that for you. Hold on let me get one fore you," Carson rambled gleefully. Evans looked at the carnage before him. Officers burning. Officers partially frozen in blocks of ice. He took a breath and aimed his wristgun. He steadied his right forearm. Carson readied to throw a random grenade. Evans shot it the moment it left Carson's hand. The grenade exploded directly in front of Carson. Both Evans and Carson looked at each other in shock. Confetti. A party grenade? Carson quickly fumbled for another but was tackled and restrained by several officers. Meanwhile in the South wing, Lary had some colleagues set a trap for another shotgun toting inmate. He had them bait the inmate and flee. Giving chase he turned a corner and ran straight into Lary's fist. The inmate recovered and motioned to shoot Lary. "Let's tango. " Lary gave the code word. Nearby officers activated a device. A signal jammer of sorts. The inmate shoved the barrel of his gun into Lary's gut and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The special signal jammer in question was designed for firearms. It was a last resort as it left officers just as defenseless. Lary was having fun. He boxed the inmate in hand to hand combat. Despite the inmate's enhanced strength, Lary's technique pulled through. Lary ducked under one of the inmate's wide punches and did some type of rising uppercut where he jumped off the ground while spinning. One of the other officers whispered" The rising dragon." Lary smiled giving a thumbs up" Yeah, it was a rising dragon uppercut. Saw it in one O my kid's vidya games. Thought I'd try it out while I'm jacked on adrenaline".
Jim Jimenez looked long and hard at himself in the mirror. He was in the women's restroom. Some brainless woman had broken the men's restroom mirror with her face. For the first time in a long while Jim could think clearly. He was becoming sane. At the least he was no longer a raving lunatic. The life essence of the dark gods had healed the wounds to both his body and his mind. He saw his face, his scraggly dirty beard. He found a razor and shaved. He trimmed his beard somewhat. He liked it. He washed his hair. It fell down his face like silk, no longer greasy. His bloodshot eyes once burning with crazed intensity had cooled. He blinked. Just for a second, he saw the man known as Genocide. The man that attacked him. The one that killed him and gave him new life. The drug dealers. The police. They were all the same in his eyes now. They were all to blame for the world being what it is. Jim wanted to hate them. He wanted to take revenge, but he felt nothing. It didn't matter. He knew he was wronged, could logically justify acting against them, but he just didn't care anymore. About anything. He was finally free. Sensing his presence was no longer needed here, Jim vanished into the night. He needed to find someone who had had the answers he needed. Himself. Who had he been? Who was he now? Who could he become? Where was he going? So many questions to ponder indefinitely. So much time left in the rest of his life.
Genocide ran down the station's halls raining hailstorms of bullets upon its occupants. He had a handgun in each hand as well as a wristgun on each wrist. This effectively gave him 4 separate firearms that he could use simultaneously. Lary regrouped with Gracia, Evans, and a handful of others. They radioed all surviving officers near Genocide to flee to the roof. This plan had been set in motion days before the assault and had been kept hidden from most of the force. The plan involved scheduling flights for several helicopters to arrive at some point after Genocide arrived. There would be no way for him to prepare for them and pre-scheduling their arrival ensured they arrived regardless of if they were called or not. Lary and the others set about preparing the second jamming device. Genocide stood among a hallway of bodies. He saw one man clinging to life trying to crawl away. He decided on trying that other thing he saw his master do. He grabbed the dying man and pinned him to the wall. Slowly he drove a knife into his chest. As the man's life slipped away, something else entered his body. Genocide channeled a small amount of his essence into the vessel. He had steadily done this with other casualties around the station whose bodies were somewhat salvageable. He dropped the body he was holding and looked upon the others. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his eyed were black, both sclera and iris. The scene before him changed. Genocide had a vision. He saw a dead gray wasteland littered with bodies. These people however weren't cops and wore traditional Japanese attire. In his hand wasn't a gun or knife but a short sickle akin to a farming tool. He heard a dark voice call out to him. Slowly, the corpses around him began to rise, now mere puppets bound eternally to their master's whim. The bodies sold to the reaper who had claimed their lives. Genocide's vision ended. His eyes had returned normal. Around him, dead cops began to rise. His dark essence had entered their bodies and reanimated them. He sent his dead army to attack the officers fleeing to the roof of the station. These zombies swarmed the stairwell giving chase to the few survivors. There were five of them. They had two flights of stairs to climb and a horde of their former colleagues close behind them. One officer tripped and was set upon by the horde. The zombies didn't bite them but held them firmly in place. The other four officers stared down wondering what to do. They could hear Genocide chuckling. They could hear humming. They could feel the temperature rising. Their colleague and the two zombies holding him were hit by an enormous green fireball. Genocide had fired a Magnum Opus and had charged the bullet to level 3. The Magnum Opus was simply a magnum that shot fireballs, with bullets that could be charged by holding down the trigger. It had three levels of charges. Level 1 was a small reddish ball of plasma. Level 2 was slightly larger and yellow. Level 3 was the maximum charge and resulted in a large slow moving green blast of energy. The officer was ignited and Genocide watched gleefully as the force of the blast sent him flying through a wall. The four officers continued up firing occasionally to slow down the zombies. Soon they made it to a door leading to the roof. Before one officer could reach it, he was sniped by Genocide, a bullet to the head killing him instantly. The remaining three made it out. They regrouped with the others already there, 12 in total, including Lary, Evans, and Gracia. This would be their final stand. They just had to hold out until Genocide made it up there. They just had to keep Genocide occupied until the helicopters arrived. Genocide slowly ascended the stairs behind his horde. On the roof, the remaining survivors faced off against waves of the undead. Evans recognized the attackers. These zombies were being controlled by nanomachines. He heard the stories of several weapons encountered by soldiers on the battlefield. These creatures were called Metaldeads as they were reanimated via machines. They had been officially banned by most of the worlds' governments for being unethical. However, this did not stop the technology from being spread still between shady organizations, terrorists, etc. Evans wondered how Genocide got this form of nanotechnology. Evans long speculated that the dark essence used by most of the killers they encountered was a a form of nanotech however it was different from anything else he had seen or heard about. The dark essence seemed to be an amalgamation of other types of nanotech. Evans had to save his inquiries for later. He reloaded his wristgun and took aim at the approaching group of Metaldeads. Gracia steadied her handgun and shot two Metaldeads in the head. From the single door countless arms seemed to spill forth from the darkness. The other officers took turns firing in intervals. this allowed them to create a steady stream of fire where no more that three guns needed to be reloaded at once. The horde seemed to thin out over time as if they were making progress. In actuality, the Metaldeads were just making room for Genocide to enter. Genocide exploded in a sprint from the door. Everyone fired upon the killer. Genocide had now chosen a wrist mounted mini flamethrower to use as his weapon. He stormed past the oncoming bullets taking some damage, but refused to slow down. He unleashed a stream of fire that caught five of the officers in one fell swoop. Gracia fired five rounds into Genocide's face. He stumbled back. Lary took the chance to fire several mine gun bullets at Genocide's feet. The mines quickly detected his movement and exploded. In seconds, Genocide was on his back.
Staring at the night sky Genocide saw the moon. He reached for it. He called for the darkness to give him more power. His wounds began healing. In the sky he could hear the whirl of propellers. There were six helicopters in total. The first two had evacuated the survivors while the others stayed to engage Genocide. Genocide got up and unstrapped the sniper rifle from his back. He stood before the searchlights as a black silhouette, cornered but unwilling to back down. Lary stared down at him smiling. "Okay!" He shouted, "Let's Tango!" Upon this declaration the second jamming device was activated. Now, isolated on the roof, Genocide's guns couldn't be fired and the helicopters were out of range of the device. Now Genocide stood like a sitting duck. A helicopter fired a rocket. Genocide side stepped and grabbed it. He turned his body redirecting the rocket to hit another helicopter. As it exploded Genocide drew his knife and threw it at another helicopter. Behind the knife was such force that it shattered the helicopter window's glass, embedding itself in the pilot. This helicopter too went down where it exploded. "Holy clucknuggets!Did you see that!?" Lary said dumbfounded. Evans looked out the helicopter door he was in jaw open in shock. "There's no way." He collected himself quickly and radioed the remaining two helicopters to keep moving and to use their machineguns as much as possible. The helicopters reigned down upon Genocide tearing apart his body. Shreds of leather and darkened blood sprayed across the pavement of the roof. Gracia watched as Genocide's body was destroyed repeatedly as it tried to heal. Surely he had to stop at some point. After 10 minutes the helicopters had exhausted their cache of ammunition and soldiers opted to fire their own rifles and occasionally throw grenades. After about six minutes, they too had run out of bullets. Genocide stood unfazed. He had long since healed himself and now appeared intangible with gunfire seeming to pass through his body. His coat once ripped , now appeared whole though on closer inspection seemed to writhe. Gracia looked in horror as she remembered the tales her adopted father had told her. Tales he had in turn heard from his predecessors. Every so often officers had reported encounters with ghost like beings cloaked in a cloud of living dark mist. The beings were rumored to be responsible for the deaths of multiple people ranging from scientists, veterans, mafia, politicians, etc. They were seen near such crime scenes and even more shockingly appeared around several sites where suicides were committed. These beings were reportedly impervious to bullets and filled anyone who got near with an impending sense of dread. If Genocide was connected to them or somehow turning into one , there was little chance they would be able to defeat him. Gracia's fears were confirmed when she saw that Genocide's leather coat had been destroyed and he had replaced it with the dark mist coalescing from his own spilled blood. The dark mist, swirling, grew larger and several tendrils sprouted out from it. Gracia could briefly make out a figure standing next to Genocide. A hooded figure cloaked in the same black substance. The figure stared up at her with soulless, blackened eyes which seemed to beckon her to jump from the aircraft she was standing in. Compelling her to give in to the death that plagued the earth. Genocide kneeled to his master. The Shinigami, Masataka stared down at his disciple. "You have done a great service to us. Even now the sealed god stirs in its slumber. Its...Awakening will soon be upon us. It calls out for war. It begs for famine. It longs to continue its conquest. We are the death it so desires. The death that is necessary for this civilization to grow. Use the power that I have bestowed upon you. Finish the mission as you see fit." The Shinigami vanished and Genocide stood.Genocide stared at his hands. He remembered the first killing spree. He was on a bus. It stopped. A woman got on the bus and walked to the back smiling as she passed him. Something about her eyes unnerved him. They were so bright but something dark reflected inside them. He ignored the thought and put in his headphones. In minutes he had dozed off. He jumped awake. He looked around and froze in panic. All around him, everyone had been hacked to pieces. He saw the driver, actively being stabbed by a masked assailant. The mask, painted white with black eyeholes, stared back at him. It raised a finger over where its lips would be. Even under the expressionless visage, he could feel that same smile. He ran home that morning. He went to his room to find it destroyed. His posters, his computer, his tv, everything, had been ruined. He turned around and saw a man at the end of the hallway holding a sledge hammer. "The hell you been, boy?", his stepdad sneered. The man dropped his hammer and walked closer, veins pulsing with rage. He tried to explain how his car had caught fire forcing him to walk 4 miles to the nearest bus stop, but the man's fist was faster than his words. "Boy!Answer me when I talk to you!!" the man says as he backhands the taste out of the would be Genocide's mouth. He took that beating for several minutes before being left to stare at his ransacked room. He hated how his stepdad went out of his way to destroy the things he loved. Soon, another set of footsteps could be heard. It was his mother standing behind his locked door. She didn't knock, or say anything. She just stood there, doing nothing as always. He never knew if she came to talk to him or apologize. All he knew was that she could never bring herself to speak to or even acknowledge him. Maybe out of guilt or perhaps shame. A year or two later after he had had enough he ran away from home. Living out on the streets alone, without friends, or family, he would embark on countless killing sprees. These killings weren't of his own volition however. He was coerced by some corrupt officers from The Unit. They made him kill on their behalf. Sometimes they were protesters, sometimes they were drug dealers, other times, petty criminals they couldn't be bothered to process. It was routine for him to be used to kill entire houses of drug riddled addicts. During one such venture he entered a drug den, killing the dealer as instructed. He took out several junkies before turning to leave. A woman who survived her injuries clung to his heel begging him to stop. Looking down he aimed the handgun he was carrying at her head of long disheveled brown hair and fired. Feeling nothing, he kicked her body aside like trash when it hit him. Her face. This woman had been his mother. What was she doing in a place like this? He felt a shock of emotion. He wondered if she had always been like this, or had she changed after he left. He never made amends, but decided to stop killing from then on. The unit did not like that. Once it became apparent that he was no longer of use to them they started a manhunt to apprehend him with lethal force. They found him. They killed him. But he survived.
He remembered the girl on the bus. He remembered her eyes. Those of a sadistic killer. Still there was something else inside them. Something faint but deeper. So. Much. Sadness. Just like him. He felt the hatred begin to spread. His purpose, he decided, was to make all humans rot in the hell they created for him.
These people, he thought to himself, these living diseases, all needed to die. Their struggles, their problems, they spread like cancer to others. The only cure for humanity's sin, its collective wrongdoings, was genocide.
Around him, dark tendrils continued to form and expand, spinning in a vortex. Genocide pulled out two pistols. He squeezed the triggers to no effect. "As I see fit, huh? Hehe." He squeezed both guns in his hands, breaking them into pieces. He concentrated. In his hands, two more guns materialized now completely black due to being forged from the dark essence. Forged by his will. Immune to the jamming device that shut down conventional firearms. He raised his arms at each remaining helicopter and opened fire. Countless tendrils whipped out and slashed at his targets joining the dark essence bullets. It was chaos. Dark tendrils and bullets tore through every direction as Genocide spun and swirled around in 360 degrees firing randomly with purpose. A tendril pierced Gracia's right arm, another, her abdomen. She was however, fortunate, as the other passengers of her helicopter were dismembered. She barely had time to jump from the vehicle before it crashed. She fell 2 yards onto solid concrete. She felt immense pain as her right shoulder shattered on impact. She looked up to see Genocide's blade like appendages ripping through the other escape helicopters. She rolled onto her back and tried to steady herself. Within seconds her body began to repair itself. The nanocells inside her had saved her life but were now depleted. She would need another supplement lest she receive another fatal injury. The standard nanocells she and the others had were much less potent than those of the killers they faced. In truth, they had only minimal strength boosts being able to lift 5-8 more pounds than before and healing being limited to one or two fatal injuries so long as death didn't occur instantly. Gracia blacked out. She awoke the next morning in a hospital. There the doctors refilled her nanocells. She learned that the station had been left in ruins. Genocide had detonated some type of minature nuke following his rampage. He always blew up the stations as if to send a message. Gracia looked out the window thinking about why she became a cop. Twice her family had been murdered by them. Her biological family had been killed in an on record drug raid committed by a group of corrupt officers called The Unit. She had been adopted by another officer that arrived at the scene who found her as a child hiding in a closed. Sadly, he too was killed for trying to expose the activities of The Unit. Gracia joined the force to avenge both losses and bring justice to the killers that disguised themselves as normal people. Law enforcement was neither good, nor bad. It depended upon the people that made it up. In the dying corrupt world Gracia lived in, she vowed to be a beacon of light. Evans laid in a bed adjacent to Lary. "That damn Genocide's somethin else in' he?Like the stories you told us were understatements. That man could legit not die at this point in the story. Like he has friggin plot armor or somthin.'' Evans cut him off" I get it. We all got our asses handed to us. But did you see that ..thing that appeared next to him. Right before he created that black vortex that wiped us out. That must have something to do with his power. Maybe there's a still a way to stop him."Lary chimed in," That fella looked like he was on the way to a black metal concert wit all the black facepaint he was wearin' Creeped me out to be honest." As the survivors mulled over their predicament, the cycle of evil continued to spread elsewhere.
Budley flips through the pages of a magazine. He checks his watch. He looks around the gas station and doesn't see any customers. Seizing the opportunity, he puts in his headphones and begins playing an imaginary guitar as he jams to a progressive deathcore album. Oblivious to the screams coming from outside, the store clerk moves on to thumping two candy bars on the counter to simulate drums. Budley sees that his shift has ended and begins locking up the store. He sweeps the aisles and jumps as a shadow appears behind him. He turns and sees a well groomed bearded man dressed in a black hoodie, black shirt, and black and gray camo pants. The man holds out his hand and smiles. Budley rings up the pack of nicotine substitute gum. "Tryin to kick the habit huh?" Budley asks. The man replies, "Somethin like that. Gotta get my priorities back in check. Focus on the things that really matter. That damn KonCreep's a hell of a band aren't they?" He nods to the playlist on Budley's phone. "Yeah, they're killer. just got into them a month back." Budley answers. "You know, I'm something of a musician myself. Maybe you'll hear of me on the news someday." Jim Jimenez says as he sees himself out. He walks to the back of the building and passes an ominous form of graffiti. A woman lays unmoving and above her, written on concrete in red is a message that simply says "Genocide Reigns".

First of all https://www.smogon.com/forums/threads/sv-uu-suspect-process-round-7-voter-identification-thread.3742334/post-10103098 i got reqs for this, so i feel i at least have some knowledge on this esp playing during suspect + laddering during uult
https://www.smogon.com/forums/threads/sv-uu-suspect-process-round-7-pelipper-voting.3743091/ next of all pelipper was a close vote with 18/33 aka 54% which means this was rather close and this only worked out because lower tiers often function with a 50%+ majority for smth to be banned
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Why is rain not broken?

its answers are easy to fit and are solid at doing their job
rain as a whole is just defensively not that good meaning its easy for smth to go ham vs it
its a huge commitment for rain to click aynthing outside of water stab, making it fairly telegraphed

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its answers are easy to fit and are solid at doing their job outside of the rain matchup.

Many pokemon in rain are water type slike barra, flotzel, quav, greninja, azu are pokemon that many teams are just able to deal with on preview at least, you arent struggling by trying to find smth like volcanion, gastrodon, or having to run min speed ttar to underspeed pelipper. These are things that just arnet common enough.
You are often having some form of rain deterrent like sp. def ttar who can tell zapdos to screw off, hydrapple who can sit on most of the rian mons and bait a ice move, torn-t can take on greninja in rain and with tera water for ex. can be a huge pain for it to break through, rotom-w with wisp is in general very annoying, as yes you can bring in hydrapple but hydrapple on rain is often just food for smth like a zapdos on ur team, slowking can reset rain with snow and make pelipper have to come back in and to stop a lot of things rain wants to go for, and in general smth like h-arc can start spamming head smash and late game and can spam tera normal espeed.
You are alr running things like sp. def ttar for things like zap, latios, torn-t, and being a good partner for exca, av torn-t is one of the best defensive mons in the tier, slowking, hydrapple, rotom-w are all easily splashable, and smht like h-arc, lokix, and azu are all good options to revenge kill or apply a lot of pressure outside of rain.

Rain isnt good defensviely.

Its not Hyper offense lvl of shit where you basically have soft checks for smth like celesteela, garchomp, heatran, scizor... where they basically switch into smth to get setup opportunities. But rain often will struggle to play the long game vs smth like specs latios, sure drill can check it but you are wearing down urself alr and drill wants to get up rocks in such a game, so they can just click luster purge -> luster purge -> luster purge esp if you get sp. def dropped by one of them.
Even smth like hydrapple basically doesnt want to take on smth like ogerpon-c due to potentially just losing a lot since it runs eject button and is forced out, if it isnt eject button then cornerstone can often 1v1 it, and smth like h-arc also can just spam head smash into it and just have a good roll twice and just nuke it, it isnt fun for rain to be on the backfoot on offense.

rain is very telegraphed and its a huge commitment for smth like barra to click ice fang or cc

if rain wants to bypass answers like hydrapple they have to click smth else, like an ice move (which doesnt really KO often from barra) and for that to happen that is a big commitment.. if you fail and they bring in rotom-w you are just put on the backfoot and have to play around it by giving smth a free switch, You often are free to bring in checks most of the time and often times rain has to go out of their way to try to lure it in and hit it with their coverage move.
Even smth like life orb gren, azu, etc you can often lure out their weaker moves like dark pulse, play rough/knock off, or another options and switch into it. Like you can lure out dark pulse by switching into slowking and threaten a t wave so they would prob dakr pulse then switch into ur av torn-t and take the hit and scare them out with focus blast or u-turn into smth else.
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well rain is banned... i feel people think rain was very one sided ban despite it being almost 50/50. I also feel there was much less discussion for rain because nobody really saw rain during the suspect therefore had less to share, often times it would be a 2 page suspect but not even here.... ladder is very weird in their ways

Genocide Reigns
(note: I'm an indie game developer making an action/horror title called Phantasphere. This story is a spin off set in the same universe)
Year 2480X Ryze County Police Department
He's coming. The ensuing panic spread like a virus infecting all present with symptoms of looming dread. Officers worked steadfast to prepare also taking what time remained to train the few combat hardened civilians whom had fled to the station earlier. If only they knew. This demon that presented itself as a man had led a string of senseless massacres across the country. Only recently had it begun to prioritize police stations and army bases as a means of breaking the will of civilians who knew they would be next. Officers from several counties across the states were transferred here for this last stand. This Genocide must not continue. Gracia checked her pistol. Some 20 bullets remained. "I can do this", she thought, "I have to". She had dealt with similar cases before. Some poor soul is overtaken by some inextricably evil force and makes it their life's work to propagate death. Gracia had killed quite a few already. Live arrests weren't always possible. Beyond saving, careful interrogations of the scarce live catches yielded a startling connection. These killers all alluded to a well of overwhelming hatred and despair that consumed them after making eye contact with...Pale, black eyed entities. Some type of demon? Ghost maybe? The idea seemed nonsensical, but there was evidence nonetheless that some outside force was using them to fulfill some unknown purpose. At the present time, all they could do was stop the killers after they had killed. It was always too late by then and more would appear randomly elsewhere. What good could be done here in an isolated station hoping to stop one guy out of possibly hundreds? "The guy we're waiting for is different from the others," detective Evans spoke from the center of a crowd nearby. Gracia moved in closer. "The others typically strike from the shadows, hide their faces behind masks, and prefer to get up close and personal with their victims. What we're dealing with is on a completely different scale. The trail of bloodshed this guy leaves is too difficult for the media to cover up. He loves the spectacle. Headlining the news. We can't keep using the burst pipeline excuse for 6 stations being destroyed in a row. We have to stop him before the world at large finds out. You wonder why we need so many people here? Its simple. We're gonna out-man this one man. He always attacks stations through the front door. Like other killers he's fast, strong- you know the usual, but he also uses guns." "What!", a voice rang out from the crowd. "They aren't supposed to do that!" another gasped. Officer Lary spoke with a cheesy grin" Ya tellin' me we just gotta deal with a regular ass gunman eh? That's a welcome change of pace init? Heck I'm too old to be running around being chased like I'm in some scary movie". The detective rebutted" You don't get it. He uses guns. Not a handgun, not rifles, not boom sticks, not rpgs, not knives not grenades but ALL of them. He uses guns. Plural. It'll take essentially an army to match his arsenal. He used to be a man named -redacted-, but in his pursuit of chaos he has become Genocide." A dark form manifests from the night outside the station. Genocide is coming.
Bang! something slams into the front door. Everyone freezes. Officer Tatum edges slowly to it, shockgun in hand. By no means lethal, the shockgun was lighter, easy to control, and could stun targets temporarily. If Genocide was here, Tatum could stun him and duck for cover leaving the station free to light him up like a Christmas tree. That was the plan they came up with. He got closer to the glass door and peered outside. He was met with hate filled bloodshot eyes framed by an unkempt beard and wild straggly hair. Tatum felt some relief. He knew the man outside. It was Jim Jimenez. Jim was a former drug dealer turned informant. He was found out and had to flee from his old life. He became homeless, hiding in plane sight. This allowed him safety at the cost of his mental health. Tatum knew the man, but those eyes were not his. Tatum blinked and saw that the look of malice had vanished. What he instead saw was a helpless, wounded man, bleeding from the right arm pleading for help. Tatum looked behind Jim, eyeing the empty lot. The coast seemingly clear Tatum unlocked the door and let Jim in. Jim had been roaming the town looking for shelter and tried squatting in an abandoned looking apartment complex. There he found that the building contained several murdered families some succumbing to gunshots but the majority having met their end to fire and suffocation. Jim had decided to make his way to the station to tell police what happened and met trouble on the way. He described getting stabbed by a man wearing a trench coat with long dark hair. Despite the injuries, Jim could move surprisingly well and seemed to ignore the pain. Jim insisted that the man had spared him on the condition he deliver a message. "What message?" Tatum asked. Jim beckoned him to come closer. Tatum leaned in and Jim whispered, "Tell them. Tell them that Genocide is coming closer." The following events were a blur. Jim had concealed the knife he was stabbed with. He stabbed Tatum 4 times in the chest and wrestled his shockgun away. Using Tatum as a shield, Jim engaged everyone in the lobby. Jim wasn't himself. He was stronger. He was faster. He was tactical. He would stun an officer in place only to stab them and use their as a body shield. No one could get a clear shot without hitting a colleague. Gracia watched the scene unfold. In minutes Jim had acquired a magnum from the holster of one of his victims. In seconds 3 officers had their heads exploded. The magnum rounds coated the walls red with those they hit and stained the clothes of those they missed. Gracia felt fear rising in her chest. She calmed herself and tried to think. She saw the bodies on the ground. The blood. She saw how dismissively Jim stepped over them. Like they were nothing. Like trash. She saw the man firing erratically into groups of people, not so much to kill but as to cause panic. That's it! As Gracia contemplated her next move it hit her. She was knocked backwards and landed on the ground. She weakly clutched her chest. Her breathing grew shallow. Jim mad his way deeper into the station. The officers were retreating from their standoff. Jim stepped over her body and saw red staining her uniform. Just another casualty. He moved on. At this point the civilians began panicking. Everyone gave up trying to save their allies and fired blindly at the madman. "Don't shoot the messenger," Jim laughed as he stripped his latest meat shield of an automatic rifle. Detective Evans took cover behind an overturned desk. To his left Larry struggled to light a cigar. "You still think this is a cakewalk?" Evans shouted firing 2 quick shots from his gun before ducking back down. Lary lost hold of his lighter and it clattered on the ground." Crap." He reached for it and looked in the corner of the room. A mirror. He looked at it for what seemed like ages and his smirk returned " Y'know that mex'n gal with the short hair. Where is she? I didn't see her get shot." Evans glanced a peak at Jim spraying lead in all directions. Behind him was a corpse. Evans blinked. It seemed to be getting closer. Its her. Gracia painstakingly inched her way into Jim's blind spot. She was roughly 6 feet away from him. Flanking him seemed like a brilliant idea but waiting idly by for the right moment as the people around her died filled her with anger. Worse still, she had to steal a blood soaked shirt from one of the deceased officers to keep up the facade. Inching ever so steadily she mad it within 3 feet of Jim. She reached behind her belt and unclipped a pair of handcuffs. Screams could be heard as more people were hit. Gracia couldn't wait any longer. Fluidly she got to her feet and rushed Jim. She kicked the back of his knee causing him to stumble as she put the handcuffs on him. Figuratively. The handcuffs were around Jim's neck. She yanked him back causing his gun to drop. "You don't know what you're doing." Jim spat. "We all need to accept it. The end of days is upon us. Death rides his horse through these forsaken lands. We must serve or be sacrificed in turn. Accept it!"He elbowed Gracia in the ribs causing her to let go. He spun around and lunged at her. She landed on her back, Jim steadily choking her. Gracia thought fast. She couldn't struggle. Jim was too strong. She delivered a precise chop to the center of Jim's neck which was exposed. Jim lurched back to catch his breath. A clean shot. A bullet pierced through Jim's back. Weakened, Gracia rolled him over and began punching him repeatedly using the handcuffs as brass knuckles. The sound of Jim's skull cracking echoed through the station. This would go on for nearly 20 seconds before Gracia stopped, checked his pulse, confirmed Jim was still alive, then finally put the cuffs on Jim's wrists.
Click. Bodies are wrapped and moved to a makeshift storage room. Click. The available weapons are gathered and redistributed. Click. Officers are assigned to sniping positions on neighboring buildings. Click. Police cruisers circle the lot outside. Click. In the holding cell, Jim opens his eyes. Click. Lary flicks his lighter. Click. Gracia sips coffee from a paper cup. Click. Shells hit the ground at the feet of Genocide. Click. Genocide walks outside a cafe and looks at the station in the distance. Click. Lary clicks his lighter.
"All ya'll gon' fall," Jim ranted." You can't drain the ocean. You can't put out the sun. Evil will always exist. That there Genocide is proof . I saw him. Saw myself within his eyes. Saw the evil in me that I could no longer try to hide. He taught me to embrace the darkness within. Its in all of us begging to be let out. Can you hear it!" Lary clicked his lighter and got up from his chair. He grabbed a cup of liquor from another officer mid sip and walked over to Jim. He doused it on Jim, the liquid stinging his open wounds. Jim yelped. Across the station, radios blurred to life. Several of their lookouts on the outside had been killed. "He's gon' get ya," Jim smiled imitating Lary's signature grin. "Genocide! Genocide! Genocide!" The other inmates saw the chance to irritate Lary and joined in all shouting in unison,"Ge-No-Cide! Ge-No-Cide! Ge-No-Cide!" The chanting grew louder. Unbearable. They invoked upon the name of the beast, and so it came.
Genocide is upon us. A wave of dread spread across the officers. They could feel its presence. Gracia knew the sensation. The awful aura that the other killers gave off. This was different. Far more oppressive. She struggled to breathe as the air got colder. Her instincts screamed for her to run. She could only imagine what the others were going through. Its time. Across the lot Genocide stood. A siren blared over the intercom. "Everyone get into positions!" Evans yelled. Wayne finished setting the last of the c4 near the station entrance. "That's the last of them. Have remote triggers set around all the major hallways. I'll be in the security room ready to pull the switch." Wayne acted as an explosives expert. His job was to detonate bombs placed throughout the station to slow down Genocide should it enter the building. He would stay in the security room, monitoring the cameras and giving real time updates on the officers' positions. From the holding cell, inmates chanted for Genocide. Lary got off his phone" That bastard mixed us up. How did we not notice?" Evans asked what he meant. Lary, dumbfounded, said that most of the town was already dead. Genocide had broken his usual pattern. He went on a killing spree across a defenseless town BEFORE attacking the police station. They had let everyone down. The people they swore to protect. This Genocide was a monster, but he was still a man. Capable of learning from his past actions. Planning. Adapting. It wasn't in his style to stealthily kill his victims or even use a silencer on any of his guns, but an exception had been made for tonight. An exception that would cost them. Gracia was stationed on the second floor. She peered out the window. Her heart skipped a beat. Two cruisers made slow donuts patrolling the lot and standing unmoving between them was a man all in black. Gracia called in to Wayne asking if he saw anything outside. Wayne said the monitors were all clear then checked again. He cursed. He noticed small details were off. The cameras showing the outside of the station were wrong. Sure they showed the same scenery and weather but cars passed by on screen too frequently for a dead town. Too many to make sense for the quarantine they had set in place. Wayne concluded that the cameras had been hacked. Different prerecorded footage was being shown on the live feed to misdirect them. Gracia saw the man look up at her. A light rain started to fall. The officers patrolling outside were contacted. From the holding cells, inmates called for genocide.

Margaret loved being a librarian, but it could be awfully dreary at times. It was a slow Saturday afternoon at GreenMeadows library with hardly a patron in site. Being in the center of a major city, she figured there were a plethora of places people would rather entertain themselves with than a library. She almost envied those who seemed to be too busy for everything. The only thing Margaret had going on in her life was flower garden and ever growing collection of books. Most of her friends already had boyfriends so her lack of a significant other only served to emphasize the mundanity of her life.
She tried not to let it get to her. Her life was boring but there wasn't any need to dwell on it. With a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and a book in the other, Margaret idly passed the time until she heard a loud thud from the library center. She got up from her desk to see what it was. Everyone else had already left so she should've been the only one there. She walked down the hall and saw a large black book laying on the floor. The front and back were completely blank and there was no ISBN number in sight.
Intrigued, Margaret picked up the book and returned to the desk. She flipped open the first page to find handwritten notes.
" Today I met a Goddess. She surrounds herself in a labyrinth of ancient tomes to feed her endless thirst of knowledge. More than any book, I want to know the contents of her heart."
Now Margaret was REALLY interested. It looked like someone had left behind their journal. She normally wasn't one to pry into other's business, but some wholesome voyeurism could potentially spice up her life. With each page, the writer went into more detail about their love for their crush.
" A beauty robed in a cloak of shadow Her hair, a caramel river Lips that speak of her vermillion passion Could her perfection be any more grand?"
That passage made Margaret pause. The description of black clothes, brown hair, and red lipstick sounded a lot like her. Still, it was vague enough that it could apply to any woman so she didn't give it too much thought. She took a sip of her chocolate and read on.
" I know the Goddess will never grace me so I can only admire her from afar. Sometimes she trades her black robes for floral ones, perhaps in homage of the garden she looks over. A duo of felines accompany her as she imbues her garden with seeds of her love."
Margaret froze. The writer didn't just know her appearance, but also her gardening hobby and two pet cats. This wasn't something she could just pass off as coincidence. A morbid curiosity compelled her to read even more.
Picnics in the park Buying a new bike A trip to a Cafe while wearing a pink cardigan.
Several of her routines were laid bare within the book with stark detail. The writer knew her favorites foods, her local supermarket, the brand of soap she used, and even the exact time of her last bath. The last passage Margaret read was enough to make her blood turn to ice.
" Today I finally steeled the nerves to make the Goddess notice me. I crafted a love elixir to win her heart. It will take the form of her favorite drink. With luck on my side, I added the elixir to her chocolate while she relieved herself in the bathroom. I can see her drinking from her lipstick stained cup even now. Oh Margaret, I cannot wait for you to be mine."
A stabbing pain that gripped Margaret's heart sent her tumbling to the floor. Her thoughts became erratic and her field of vision diminished by the second. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was shadowy man towering over her, his chesire grin being the only discernable feature.
" Hello my Goddess. Are you ready to consummate our love?"

Hi, I am 24F and yesterday I got sudden chest pain that got worse when bending over or taking a deep breath that lasted for a few hours, it was stabbing pain. I have shortness of breath, sometimes high heart rate and when I breathe I have this weird feeling in chest that I don’t know how to describe. I have a bit of back pain on the left side and under the boob and a slight burning sensation in chest. Do you think that is something serious and I should go to see a doctor or wait a few days to see if it’s get better? Thank you so much for help!

34M 70kg 175cm
So I have something like costochondritis from a flu and a back injury. Also have GERD. I overdid some exercise the last few days.
I'd just had dinner and then felt pain in what feels like the front ribs around both halves of my chest. The pain was like stabs in different places at once, in sync with my pulse. Went away after a few minutes.
I've had something similar but more severe happen before, also after overdoing it. A couple months earlier I'd had a gastroscopy with biopsy. That time it started with bad heartburn, which lead to a burning fizzy hot static electricity running from down left arm to down right arm across the skin/muscles and across and into the chest for a few minutes. A stabbing pain in sync with my pulse under my right pec happened with that too. Normal pulse and breathing and was at rest. After this happened I felt persistent mild nausea for several months. Cardiologist didn't find any sign of heart attack.
I'm guessing I've aggravated a spine/rib nerve and/or my stomach? I'm just curious why the pain pulses with my heartbeat? I know I probably have to ask my Dr again but they have never heard of anything like it. Has anyone here?
Thanks!

My friend suffers from depression and everytime I talk to him about banishing the evil in his life and loving himself I get this stabbing throbbing pain in my temples and when I drop conversation the pain goes away
With this specific person is the only time this happens to me ??? I think he’s attached to something that’s trying to drag him down. Please pray for him and I.

Not that I have any right to demand or ask anything of this story, as it continues to steamroll over me, my feelings, and my sleep schedule. All I can do is hope that these events happen. I’m a little less than half-way through the book. So some of these things have already happened. Did anyone else have one of these? Or for another series that they’ve read over the years?
Before the end of KoA I am dying to see the following happen:
-Cairn dies a painful death ✅
-Yrene gets to see and thank Aelin again ✅
-The Cadre end up killing Maeve, not Aelin
-Yrene/Hafiza heal Elide’s leg
-Fleetfoot moves into the castle in Terrasen
-Manon’s grandmother dies a painful death
-Someone serve Aedion his asshole sandwhich ✅ (Thanks for that Lysandra, never crawl for a man 😤)
-Someone stabs Darrow in the eye
-Emrys moves to Terrasen and is head cook for them.
-Aelin (or someone in her court) calls herself/her Fire Breathing Bitch Queen but with adoration this one last time
-Dorian and Manon become partners not just lovers (almost there enough to give a check but I’ll wait)
-Aelin and Rowan are crowned Queen and Consort, but it isn’t the epilogue, if there is one, where the story ends right after.
Edit: for odd formatting, had to space it out.

34M 70kg 175cm
So I have something like costochondritis from a flu and a back injury. Also have GERD. I overdid some exercise the last few days.
I'd just had dinner and then felt pain in what feels like the front ribs in both halves of my chest. The pain was like stabs in different places at once, in sync with my pulse. Went away after a few minutes.
I've had something similar but more severe happen before, also after overdoing it. A couple months earlier I'd had a gastroscopy with biopsy. That time it started with bad heartburn, which lead to a burning fizzy hot static electricity running from down left arm to down right arm across the skin/muscles and across and into the chest for a few minutes. A stabbing pain in sync with my pulse under my right pec happened with that too. Normal pulse and breathing and was at rest. After this happened I felt persistent mild nausea for several months. Cardiologist didn't find any sign of heart attack.
I'm guessing I've aggravated a spine/rib nerve and/or my stomach? I'm just curious why the pain pulses with my heartbeat? I know I probably have to ask my Dr again but they have never heard of anything like it. Has anyone here?
Thanks!

So I have something like costochondritis from a flu and a back injury. Also have GERD. I overdid some exercise the last few days.
I'd just had dinner and then felt pain in what feels like the front ribs around both halves of my chest. The pain was like stabs in different places at once, in sync with my pulse. Went away after a few minutes.
I've had something similar but more severe happen before, also after overdoing it. A couple months earlier I'd had a gastroscopy with biopsy. That time it started with bad heartburn, which lead to a burning fizzy hot static electricity running from down left arm to down right arm across the skin/muscles and across and into the chest for a few minutes. A stabbing pain in sync with my pulse under my right pec happened with that too. Normal pulse and breathing and was at rest. After this happened I felt persistent mild nausea for several months. Cardiologist didn't find any sign of heart attack.
I'm guessing I've aggravated a spine/rib nerve and/or my stomach? I'm just curious why the pain pulses with my heartbeat? I know I probably have to ask my Dr again but they have never heard of anything like it. Has anyone here?
Thanks!

I guess I just want to rant a bit after my experience tonight. I haven’t been diagnosed with HS as I haven’t been able to get into a dermatologist, but I ( 22 F ) have been suffering with recurring abscesses and cysts in my groin mostly and armpits since I was 16. In 2020 one appeared in my groin and grew bigger than a golf ball within 5 days resulting in a stay in hospital to get it lanced in theatre.
I’ve had this one abscess / cyst on my groin for 4 months now - I’ve seen 2 GPs and been to the emergency department twice, each time given antibiotics and sent away with no real directions. The antibiotics do decrease the size of it temporarily but afterwards it continues to grow and ooze, and become extremely painful.
I have work tomorrow (I’m a nurse) and after work today this abscess was causing me so much grief as I’m on my feet all day. I’m going overseas in 2 weeks and can’t get an appointment with any of the GPs in my area. I live in a regional area and there are no urgent care / 24hr medical centres nearby.
I went in at 9pm when it was quiet, only to come out feeling frustrated and a bit upset at the way the nurse commented on my situation.
Her first interaction with me was asking when I finished work, when I replied she stated “wow you picked such a great time to come in!” In a condescending tone. I work at this hospital in a different area and knew that the ED would only have 1-2 patients at this time as were a small hospital. I saw the bed board in triage and the ED was empty at this time. Further, she asked me if I shaved my bikini area and I said yes. She then replied “that’s a really smart idea for someone who has a history of reoccurring abscesses” and rolled her eyes. The whole time she was pulling faces as I replied to the doctor and it made me feel really stupid for coming in. It doesn’t matter if I shave, I still get abscesses. It’s just something that happens.
I ended up just being brushed off and sent home with antibiotics (again) which I know won’t do much and told to see my gp. The swab they did last time came back NAD. I just feel really disappointed and upset after this experience. I’m thinking of calling out of my shift tomorrow as it hurts to walk around too much. I’m sick of being brushed off and the wait times and fee to see a dermatologist is not something I can do at the moment.

As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”

[First] [Prev]
Dialog Key:
[Translated]: Dates, Units of Measurement, or other Grammatical terms will be retrofitted to be legible for readers while still staying true to their definition
{Exposition}: Immediate context regarding events, People, Entities, or other key points that allow for understanding amongst different cultures.
...The Dekarr Commanders were far more confident now that they were able to counter the Human Superweapons and engage them in traditional Void-naval combat. The Mercs, however, were not as confident in the Commonwealth’s Admirals. They announced their immediate withdrawal 2-weeks ahead of the Human fleet's arrival. The Mercs didn’t really have a void-based naval force, so their only options were to either hold out on the planet until they were bombed into submission or retreat until the invasion force was either defeated or came out victorious.
It would later be learned that Humans were a species of Risk-takers, even in overwhelming odds they would play their assets to their advantage. Despite this, they weren’t insane, and wouldn’t throw themselves unprotected into a star over the sub-atomically small chance they would survive unscathed. This tells you how low of a chance the Mercs thought the Dekarr fleet had, despite their technological advantages and supposed ‘experience’ in Void-Naval skirmishes.
The Commonwealth, despite the many warnings from the PMC, decided to stay behind and hold their ground, even as Dynamo cut their contract, took their due earnings, and left. The Dekarr was not going to fall to the Humans’ [one-trick-pony] again. And they didn’t. They fell to the overwhelming and [frankly] dishonorable tactics the Humans employed repeatedly… And then they fell to the Humans’ [one-trick-pony], just to add injury to insult.
When the Humans jumped in, the Dekarr Generals reported some 50,000 void craft, mostly corvettes and frigates. ‘Outnumbered but not outgunned’ so the Admirals commented, before being ripped to shreds one by one.
You see, the Humans were playing Confidence games within their Confidence games (Which yes, I’ll get to soon), Where they would pepper formations of cruisers and destroyers from afar, with little to no material effect on the ships, but a huge effect on the pride of the captains and commanders of these formations. The Humans would pester these fleets just outside of their effective range, causing hot-headed commanders to stray away from the bulk of the formation and chase after these cowardly Humans, only to find themselves completely swarmed by hidden corvettes and ripped apart.
This continued for months, the Humans once again playing on their knack for attritionary warfare. One by one the Dekarr captains snapped and veered off-course, sometimes inspiring several others to fall to those foolish fates. The Dekarr Admirals had, throughout this entire engagement, stayed relatively still on their Titan craft. Their orders were to hold this system, but the Humans were whittling away at their formations faster than reinforcements could arrive. It was a similar story wherever other Dekarr fleets went. The humans would chisel away at their fleets until there were no fleets left to attack, or ships armed with M.A.C. weaponry would be destroyed, it was only then that Argo-class ships would arrive to mop up the mess.
The battle of Gespoliin was sealed when the Admrials had conceded to firing their M.A.C. artillery at the frigates just to take a little heat off of them, as the M.A.C. weapons were the only things that had the range and accuracy to effectively target the Human ships that always toyed with them just outside of their effective weapon’s ranges. Of course, the reason the Dekarr Admirals were hesitant about firing these weapons is because they could take up to several [minutes] to reload, but they were reaching the end of their rope, and the Admirals needed to bring the fire off of them. Conglomerate forces had barely suffered 50 ships being destroyed, mostly from unfortunate impacts from the nearby asteroid field they hid within, meanwhile, the Humans had destroyed nearly 1,400 of the Dekarr ships; 20% of the fleet! And that’s after counting reinforcements.
Now, allow me to go on a minor digression here on the wildlife of Earth, and how it may have influenced Human military strategy in this situation. If I remember correctly I watched a documentary about a key anthropoid species known as “Bees”, hive-minded pollinators that are vital for the planet’s flora. While for others, this topic may bring up many jokes about outdated Human scientists describing the impossibility of a bee’s ability to fly, what these bugs bring up for me is their defensive measures against predators. You see, some species of bees do have natural weapons, ‘stingers’ as the Humans call them, which stab into the skin and leave a very painful poison whilst also killing the bee, ripping out its organs, and sacrificing itself for the rest of the hive. However, there are some that possess a far more ingenious way of defense against predators.
‘Wasps’ are a close cousin to the bee, however, they are far more aggressive, and they tend to prey on other anthropoids, including their close relatives. Well, instead of stinging wasps to kill them, these stingerless species of bees will lure the wasp into their hives and let one of their own be purposefully caught and killed, taking the wasp’s attention. The other bees will then take that as a sign to rush in and swarm the wasp, generating a massive amount of heat from the friction of their tiny wings which will roast the wasp alive.

My father told me this story. In his youth he met a friend. They were perfect. But there was a case that their friendship was broken. The reason for the quarrel was because of my father's former classmate. The two of them were in love with her. Two weeks later, a friend invited him to the roof of an abandoned hospital. Under the pretext of making peace and taking a walk in this building. The father cautiously took a knife, a flashlight and a traumatic pistol. After all, he didn't trust him. The hospital was 500 meters from the house. This hospital was located on the outskirts of the city. In his time it was rumored that a puppeteer lived there. And in our time they talked about the spirit of a murdered child. This hospital was abandoned due to a fire. In 1978, propane tanks exploded in the hospital basement. During these years, heating, electricity and water were often turned off. The cause of this tragedy was a small child who was looking for his mother, he was looking everywhere. I saw the entrance to the basement and immediately went down. He began to turn the screw on the cylinder. Propane filled the basement. But the boy was looking for his mother. And one doctor went to check the supply of propane, he smelled a strange smell, he thought it was carbon dioxide. He took out a match and set it on fire. This match caused an explosion. The entire hospital was on fire. The number of victims was 51 people. Let's go back to my father's story. After some time he reached the hospital. The hospital smelled of dampness and rot. A dark, large reception awaited on the ground floor. The furniture was broken, there were syringes on the floor. My father was climbing on the roof and on the third floor the stairs were broken, he began to look for a workaround. As he wandered around the third floor, he heard the sounds of claws, walking, and laughter. My father immediately took out a knife and walked around with caution. Still, he reached the roof and saw his former friend sitting on the roof. He approached him and touched his back. The former friend did not react. He looked at his former friend's face. His face was torn, there was blood everywhere. I turned back and saw an unknown creature. It was long and had no hair. She was pale, had long arms and sharp claws on her hands. The mouth was big. There were large sharp teeth in the mouth. It looked at my father and smiled. The father looked at this creature and read a prayer. It gradually approached and when it approached point-blank to the father. He realized and stabbed the monster in the stomach. He pushed with his foot and it fell and they screamed in pain. The father took this monster by the scruff of the neck and threw him off the roof. It fell on the reinforcement which pierced through the bodies. The father quickly came down and ran home. Two days later I went to the church, prayed and put on a silver cross. 30 years have passed since this incident and my father lived

My sister and I grew up without our violent father ( luckily ) but that didn’t mean our mother wasn’t abusive as well. My mother is manipulative and cold. She has never showed us love growing up. She even demonstrated how disgusted and repulsed she was by us. Today me and my sister are 27&25 and we live both on our own in different countries. I try to keep as little contact as possible with my mother. My mother still triggers me and I do go to therapy. Been on and off therapy since I am a child. I am very aware that my mother is emotionally immature and I stopped trying to change her or make her understand what she did to us. However my sister seems like she forgot all the things our mother did to us. When I try to talk to her about the wounds my mother left in me and the low self esteem I have my sister seems non reactive brushing it off as it was normal. Pretending like she does not suffer from the pain that our mother gave us. My sister seems ignorant and not aware of it. I also see in her behaviours that she actually has a lot of similarities to my mother. I feel like I try everything to not be like my mother and my sister just becomes like her. Why does my sister want to pretend everything is so normal between our mother and her ? My mother still does not hug her and she is controlling but still my sister wants to go there and surprise her by visiting? It triggers me so so much! I was the one in our childhood that protected her against my mother and gave her support / love when my mother would have a violent tantrum. I feel betrayed and stabbed in the back! I feel like I am alone with this and screaming into the void but no one wants to listen to me.

Yesterday I went to urgent care because of stabbing/excruciating pain in the left side of my back, about where my left kidney, kind of right below my ribcage. This was a kind of pain I have never felt before, literally rolling on the floor in pain. It got significantly worse within an hour which is why i went in so quickly. I was also severely nauseous and threw up a little before i left. It was slowly lessening in pain while i was at the dr's, when i got there they said they didn't have an ultrasound to check for a kidney stone but they'd do a urinalysis to see if i had a uti ect.
The results came back and everything else was normal but I had 3+ ketones in my urine. Because of this they tested my glucose which was 85 and i hadn't eaten in 8ish hours (ate at 9am, test was at 5ish). The 85 result seemed to rule out diabetes because they didn't mention it again.
Their next step was to refer me to a different urgent care so they could give me an ultrasound. by this point the pain had become pretty minor and since that was really all i came there for I told them I was going to go home and wait to see if the pain came back, and if it did i'd go in. Well the pain never returned even close to the level it was before so I didn't go back.
I was trying to do some research on the ketone thing because while i used to do the keto diet a few years ago i don't really know what's normal or not. Anyways my confusion is that I couldn't really find any kind of explanation for why there would be that many ketones in my blood? like none of them made sense or like checked out with my symptoms if that makes sense. I am not pregnant, i have not drank alcohol in weeks, diabetes does run in my family but i think its type 2 which I thought was almost entirely environmental based and I eat well. My main issue is that a lot of the symptoms of most of the things overlap with the potential symptoms of a medication i started about 2-3 weeks ago. For example: extreme thirst, numbness/tingling/staticky feeling in my arms or face (not actually sure if this is an adderall thing it just started about a week ago), dry mouth, dizziness/lightheaded, nausea, weight loss. I'm on adderall for context. So I am experiencing all of those things but also it could be explained by the med.
I also went through the foods i've eaten the last few days to see if maybe i accidentally put myself into ketosis by my diet but i eat wayyy more than the 20-50 range that would put me in ketosis. Like the tortillas i've been using are 40 alone lol. I also bought those little ketosis test strips because i wanted to see if it was a fluke or something or would just go away on its own but i've tested twice since and both times the results are relatively the same and the number converts to about what the urinalysis reported (between 2.7 and 3.5ish but it's a color scale so not super accurate).
So I guess my question is should I be concerned? I'm also feeling pretty "weak" like you know the feeling when lifting your arms feels like so much work. But also i'm getting nervous that it's all in my head if that makes sense. I am not feeling the pain in my kidney area anymore but the ketone thing is kind of throwing me for a loop, i just kind of assumed I had a kidney stone so this came from left field a little bit. I'm debating if I should go to the dr today because I don't know if this is just a thing that can "happen" and it's fine. Also what are some things it could be? I just can't seem to find a reasoning that makes sense other than diabetes and that was seemingly ruled out.

My sister and I grew up without our violent father ( luckily ) but that didn’t mean our mother wasn’t abusive as well. My mother is manipulative and cold. She has never showed us love growing up. She even demonstrated how disgusted and repulsed she was by us. Today me and my sister are 27&25 and we live both on our own in different countries. I try to keep as little contact as possible with my mother. My mother still triggers me and I do go to therapy. Been on and off therapy since I am a child. I am very aware that my mother is emotionally immature and I stopped trying to change her or make her understand what she did to us. She gave me ( us ) multiple traumas. However my sister seems like she forgot all the things our mother did to us. When I try to talk to her about the wounds my mother left in me and the low self esteem I have my sister seems non reactive brushing it off as it was normal. Pretending like she does not suffer from the pain that our mother gave us. My sister seems ignorant and not aware of it. I also see in her behaviours that she actually has a lot of similarities to my mother. I feel like I try everything to not be like my mother and my sister just becomes like her. Why does my sister want to pretend everything is so normal between our mother and her ? My mother still does not hug her and she is controlling but still my sister wants to go there and surprise her by visiting? It triggers me so so much! I was the one in our childhood that protected her against my mother and gave her support / love when my mother would have a violent tantrum. I feel betrayed and stabbed in the back! I feel like I am alone with this and screaming into the void but no one wants to listen to me.

Yesterday I went to urgent care because of stabbing/excruciating pain in the left side of my back, about where my left kidney, kind of right below my ribcage. This was a kind of pain I have never felt before, literally rolling on the floor in pain. It got significantly worse within an hour which is why i went in so quickly. I was also severely nauseous and threw up a little before i left. It was slowly lessening in pain while i was at the dr's, when i got there they said they didn't have an ultrasound to check for a kidney stone but they'd do a urinalysis to see if i had a uti ect.
The results came back and everything else was normal but I had 3+ ketones in my urine. Because of this they tested my glucose which was 85 and i hadn't eaten in 8ish hours (ate at 9am, test was at 5ish). The 85 result seemed to rule out diabetes because they didn't mention it again.
Their next step was to refer me to a different urgent care so they could give me an ultrasound. by this point the pain had become pretty minor and since that was really all i came there for I told them I was going to go home and wait to see if the pain came back, and if it did i'd go in. Well the pain never returned even close to the level it was before so I didn't go back.
I was trying to do some research on the ketone thing because while i used to do the keto diet a few years ago i don't really know what's normal or not. Anyways my confusion is that I couldn't really find any kind of explanation for why there would be that many ketones in my blood? like none of them made sense or like checked out with my symptoms if that makes sense. I am not pregnant, i have not drank alcohol in weeks, diabetes does run in my family but i think its type 2 which I thought was almost entirely environmental based and I eat well. My main issue is that a lot of the symptoms of most of the things overlap with the potential symptoms of a medication i started about 2-3 weeks ago. For example: extreme thirst, numbness/tingling/staticky feeling in my arms or face (not actually sure if this is an adderall thing it just started about a week ago), dry mouth, dizziness/lightheaded, nausea, weight loss. I'm on adderall for context. So I am experiencing all of those things but also it could be explained by the med.
I also went through the foods i've eaten the last few days to see if maybe i accidentally put myself into ketosis by my diet but i eat wayyy more than the 20-50 range that would put me in ketosis. Like the tortillas i've been using are 40 alone lol. I also bought those little ketosis test strips because i wanted to see if it was a fluke or something or would just go away on its own but i've tested twice since and both times the results are relatively the same and the number converts to about what the urinalysis reported (between 2.7 and 3.5ish but it's a color scale so not super accurate).
So I guess my question is should I be concerned? I'm also feeling pretty "weak" like you know the feeling when lifting your arms feels like so much work. But also i'm getting nervous that it's all in my head if that makes sense. I am not feeling the pain in my kidney area anymore but the ketone thing is kind of throwing me for a loop, i just kind of assumed I had a kidney stone so this came from left field a little bit. I'm debating if I should go to the dr today because I don't know if this is just a thing that can "happen" and it's fine. Also what are some things it could be? I just can't seem to find a reasoning that makes sense other than diabetes and that was seemingly ruled out.

Hi all, I’m still at the point of trying to get doctors to take me seriously.
I’m a 36 year old female - previously very healthy.
I’ve been ill for a year and a half and none of the other specialists can find anything wrong with me. I had made another post with my symptoms, but I’ve developed more since then. The shortened version is nausea daily for 18 months, stabbing pains in the entire trunk of my body, lightheadedness, difficulty swallowing, difficulty speaking, confusion, and rapid heart rate/heart flopping around in my chest plus elevated blood pressure. I also have had leg weakness and had a fall because of it which landed me in the hospital for 3 days.
The new symptoms are: severe vertigo, numbness/tingling in both arms and legs, migraines that last for days - focused at the back of my head & neck, numbness in my mouth and tongue, hyperreflexia (diagnosed in the hospital but I forgot to include it in the last post).
Since I’m only 5mm herniated I haven’t been taken seriously. I do have a cine MRI scheduled in 2 days that I all but begged for, so hopefully that’ll help with the diagnosis.
What do you guys think about the MRI images I have of my brain and neck? These were the ones from the hospital with just contrast (and they were checking for MS, not Chiari, if that makes any difference).
Thank you in advance, you all are such a wonderful resource and a great comfort to me!!!