I have ear ache and sore throat with cou

I tried Doxylamine to counter the insomnia, coupled with a decent amount of muscle relaxers. Bad idea.
Had weird dreams and saw my own body sleeping in a dream while I was like floating around, remember I was thinking, while still dreaming, "alright, I need to go back now", and entered my body, waking up suddenly and restless.
I was laying on my back, facing up the ceiling (I never sleep in that position, always on my side) and I had a sore throat and a bit agitated.
I believe I might have had an apnea, and its the first time I experienced this.
Im pretty sure it was the Doxylamine , maybe in combination with the muscle relaxer.
Please be careful and avoid antihistaminics for sleep when possible.

For more info on the mindfuck:
http://www.ccru.net/archive/monarch.htm
I was a Ccru Meat Puppet - Justine Morrison
This testament is intended as a warning. It is addressed to those whose eyes and ears and minds can be opened. Hope lies with those people, those brave souls who dare to look. And if my experiences have taught me anything, it is that there is always hope - no matter how dark and desperate things may seem. Many, many people around the world are learning to open their eyes. I know that some of you here will open your eyes this evening. Don’t underestimate your power and importance. With each new pair of eyes that can see, we grow stronger, and the Evil retreats. It depends on not being looked at, on not being seen for what it is.
You wouldn’t be here unless you had already question the Lie. So the fact you here at all is a cause for hope.
Many of the things I will tell you will seem unbelievable at first. Many of you will think that the events I will describe could not possibly have happened. Some of you will think that I am crazy. You know what? That is exactly what I would have thought a few years ago. Yes, that’s exactly what I would have thought - even though many of those atrocious, unbelievable things had already happened to me personally. You see, when something very atrocious happens to you, you can’t remember it. You screen it out in order to survive. That’s what they count on. They feed on your disbelief. They want to make it impossible for you to believe that they exist at all. That’s how they operate.
This is a critical time in our struggle. Things are dark and desperate now. Believe me. Things are more dark and desperate than you could ever imagine.
They are playing out on the biggest possible stage. The biggest possible: the whole human race is at risk. I wish I was exaggerating.
You know, they are getting more and more sure of themselves. They are passing messages on the grandest possible scale and they do not even feel the need to encrypt them very much.
‘It’s better with the butterfly.’ Can you imagine how I felt when I saw that slogan for the first time? The biggest software company in the world announces the upgrading its online network with a strapline that was specifically addressed to me, whom they called Assassin 8. When I saw those words I just froze. Thankfully, I have come so far in my recovery now that I did not succumb to panic. I realized that this sign was as much a cause of hope as a reason to fear. They had gained a new confidence in showing themselves. The war was entering another phase. So be it. ‘It’s better with the butterfly.’ Don’t believe it for a second. It will be worse. Far, far worse.
The MSN8 campaign is a sign that my former handlers, a group calling itself the Ccru, has taken control of the emerging planet-mind. This should make you very scared indeed.
My tale is easier to tell because of the brave and honest trailblazing done by Cathy O’Brien. It is Cathy who has done most to expose the monstrous evil of the Monarch program. Every American - in fact every concerned citizen of the world - needs to read her book Trance-Formation of America. Presumably, many of you are here today because you have already read it.
For the benefit of those of you who haven’t read Cathy’s work, I must pause and explain a little about what the Monarch Program is. Those who know a little about it will have to excuse the fact that my initial explanation of Monarch will be very short. Some might think it is misleadingly short. Perhaps this is so. But to consider Monarch in all its aspects would take much longer than the time I have available today.
The Monarch program is a mind control program. It is named after the Monarch butterfly, because, just as the butterfly changes its form - metamorphoses - so the controllers ‘trance-form’ the mind and personality of their subjects. Monarch recruits its victims when they are children, usually with the collusion of their parents. It uses what is known as trauma-based mind control to condition its victims. Very briefly, this involves subjecting the children to stimuli so horrible, so overwhelming, that their psyche disintegrates. The children cannot deal with what they have experienced, so their personality breaks down into so-called ‘alters’ - submerged fragmentary personae that can be called up and trained by the controllers to carry out their evil purposes.
Who is behind this program? Well, it is known to have been operating in Nazi Germany during the Third Reich, and later to have been adopted by an offshoot of the CIA called MK Ultra. But these agencies are only masks for the forces - the Satanic forces - that are really in control.
The question for which the whole world should demand an answer is this: Why does Ccru refuse to acknowledge its history of Monarch Program involvement, even today? No doubt many of you will be asking, ‘what is Ccru?’ Even those of you who already know about Monarch might not yet know about Ccru and its role within the program.
I knew nothing of Ccru until I came across the name in publicity material for their ‘Syzygy’ (or ‘occult twins’) festival in London. The name ‘Ccru’ was strangely familiar to me, and I had no idea why. It was not merely familiar, it was powerfully and unpleasantly evocative. The moment I saw the posters and leaflets, I felt disoriented and threatened by an upwelling panic I couldn’t explain. That night I was tormented by senseless, terrifyingly vivid dreams.
Each of the dreams took place in an immense, desolate cavern. I felt that I was drugged, or restrained, or both. Either way, I could not move. The cavern was very dark, lit only by candles, and I could see almost nothing apart from row after row of symbols chalked onto the walls. This was unnerving enough, but what still terrorized me when I awoke from the dreams were the horrible sounds that resonated in the cavern: there was a disconcerting, continuous chanting, but, worse than that, a deep moaning that seemed to issue from the throat of some vast, unearthly creature.
These dreams were so vivid that they did not seem like dreams at all. They seemed more like someone else’s memories.
Although I had every reason to flee this macabre phenomenon, I found that I could not. Instead I was drawn inwards - as if I had a destined role to play.
I had originally planned to remain in London for only a week or so. But now I decided to stay longer, until at least the start of the Syzygy festival. In the end, it turned out that I stayed for the whole thing.
Ccru’s contributions to Syzygy had taken the form of nightly ‘rituals’ dedicated to what they openly called ‘demons’. Night after night, the theme of ‘twins’ and ‘twinning’ recurred. At this time, part of me still thought that this was still some kind of art prank. But the nightly rituals and readings were performed with what appeared to be total seriousness. And every day, after the official events finished, there were long, involved discussions that lasted deep into the night. None of the Ccru controllers ever seemed to sleep.
It was in these discussion sessions that I learned more about the Ccru’s belief systems. They claimed to be waging an endless war against the oppressive forces of normal social existence. In general, they seemed wary and paranoid, yet with me they seemed peculiarly trusting and eager to share their esoteric knowledge, as if recognizing a long lost and sorely missed accomplice. In fact, Ccru seized upon me with an eagerness that should have been distressing, except my sense of judgment had already decayed too far for that.
They claimed that ordinary social reality maintained the power of what they called ‘Atlantean White Magic’, a kind of elite conspiracy which they said had secretly controlled the planet for millennia. They claimed to traffick with demons who had told them many secrets drawn from a ‘Lemurian’ tradition of ‘time-sorcery’ that contained within itself everything that was and will be. Lemuria was supposedly an ancient sorcerous culture populated by nonhuman beings.
Ccru also said that they had been taught to count by a sea-beast called Nomo which they had first summoned during an elaborate ritual with took place in Western Sumatra. It was clear to me from the unspoken undercurrent that human sacrifice had been involved, probably on a massive scale. Their apparent indifference to such suffering fitted in with a general loathing for human existence itself. They celebrated what they saw as the imminent destruction of humanity by the forces of techno-capitalism.
Were these just stories, or did they really believe in what they were saying? When I pressed them on this, they never gave me a straight answer. They kept saying that I needed to learn that reality was itself a type of fiction, that both belief and disbelief had to be left behind. I realize now that this was part of a deliberate strategy to mentally destabilize me.
At the dead center of the Ccru system was the ‘Pandemonium Matrix’. It is difficult to fully describe what this horrible thing is. It was only later, when I had escaped Ccru’s influence, that its real nature was made clear to me.
What the Matrix amounted to was a list of the demon-creatures which the Lemurian sorcerers had traded and made pacts with. More than that, the Matrix gave the numerical codes and other protocols that the Lemurians had used to contact these entities. I quickly learned the names and characteristics of many of these beings. I noticed that one seemed to be invoked more frequently than the others: Katak, a demon associated with terrible destruction and desolation. Night after night I ingested this Ccru spiritual poison, not realizing - or even really caring - how thoroughly it was insidiously eroding the basic fabric of my being, calling to my own inner demons.
I didn’t know just how close I was to total destruction, and wouldn’t have known, were it not for what had happened on the last night of Syzygy. This night was devoted to what Ccru called a summoning; but it’s clear to me now that it was some form of hideous black Mass. After it had drawn to a close, I had a strong impulse to step outside for some fresh air.
Once outside, I was vaguely aware of two trenchcoated figures lingering in the darkness. Then things started to happen quickly. Before I had time to react, one of them had grabbed me, covering my mouth; at the same time, the other pulled a hypodermic syringe from his coat pocket and quickly pushed it into my arm. I realized immediately that they had drugged me.
Sedated but still conscious I was dragged for what seemed like hours through the alleys of Vauxhall. Eventually we arrived at what appeared to be a warehouse of some kind. I remembered being taken through a series of security doors, until finally we entered a large basement area. It was here that I was to spend six months of shattering revelation. My two rescuers, although it took me several weeks to properly identify them as such, were twin brothers Viktor and Sergei Kowalsky, who displayed all the heroism, nobility and truthfulness of modern knights. They themselves had escaped from a Soviet mind-control facility controlled by Russian Satanists. After years of being pursued by agents from the most occult wing of the KGB, the Kowalskys set up the base in London and there they waged their selfless crusade against the evil of Satanic mind control.
The months I spent in the Kowalskys deprogramming laboratory - they called it a ‘safe room’ - were undoubtedly the most illuminating of my life. Their therapeutic regime included hypnosis, drugs, and electrical stimulation. The Kowalskys explained that these techniques were aimed at recovering material buried deep within my mind. They were specially designed to restore the identity of what they described as ‘Monarch slaves’, a term that was then completely new to me. The Kowalskys told me that they needed to access the alternate personalities or ‘Alters’ who had been with me since childhood. They said that I had been subject to ‘pandemonium programming’, a special variant of the Monarch system of personality disintegration, compartmentalization and indoctrination. The particular numerical combinations of the Pandemonium Matrix, the Kowalskys told me, had functioned as triggers for my suppressed identity fragments.
They warned me that digging down through these deeply-compacted layers of trauma would produce inexpressible intensities of anguish. In telling me this they were not exaggerating in the slightest. Over the following terrible months I would discover that my memories were lies, my mind had literally ceased to be my own, and that I had been possessed instead by alien commands, and demons. Who had been doing this to me, and why?
It was only as my recovery work with the Kowalskys painfully advanced, step by step, that I came to understand the sinister purpose that held me in its claws. The Kowalskys explained that Ccru wasn't an acronym at all, but was actually a version of the ancient West-Polynesian word Khru, meaning the Devil of Apocalypse. Once I understood that they were really Satan worshippers a lot of other things became much clearer. The supposed Lemurian system was really a name for all the demons of hell.
Ccru’s role as agents of Satanic mind control explained the pedantically detailed theory of trauma they had outlined to me and also their striking obsession with twins. In the world in which Ccru operated, traumatism was the means and twins the raw material. It was only by the most heroic and persistent efforts that the Kowalskys had initiated me into this aspect of the phenomenon. In particular, it took months for me to fully accept that what felt like vivid personal memories were actually telepathic communications from the submerged mental compartments of my missing Monarch twin.
The Kowalskys told me that my recent involvement with Ccru, far from being accidental, was the final stage of a long entanglement with them and the forces they represented. Recovered memories from my early childhood showed that Ccru had been covertly directing the course of my entire life, education and process of psychological maturation. I had been chosen from before birth, assigned to them by the ancient breeding masters countless generations before and had undergone meticulous lifelong training to perform a special mission. I shuddered at the thought of what this mission would involve. The Kowalskys gradually brought me to the terrible realization that my mission had already been accomplished - on the very night of my rescue. They told me that, with my mission complete, I had been scheduled for ‘retirement’ only hours later. This retirement would involve a long and protracted ceremonial death, to be followed by a ritual devouring by the demon Katak. A physical death and then a soul death.
But what had my mission been?
As the therapy progressed, I crossed a new threshold in my recovery, and became subject to a new wave of horribly realistic dreams. It was in these dreams that the awful truth about the mission was revealed.
They began with a semi-familiar stranger leading me forcibly into the subterranean labyrinth beneath a tropical island.
After violating me repeatedly in the butterfly position, he took me down into the lepidoptera hall. It was long and narrow, walled by shelves of meticulously numbered jars. Each jar contained a butterfly. At first I thought they were preserved specimens, until I noticed them moving slightly, opening and closing their wings.
‘Why don't they die?’ I asked.
‘They can't die while the puppet lives,’ he replied.
It was then that I noticed, shocked, that he was standing behind himself. I heard cryptic numerical chanting in the background. Then the rear figure commanded ‘Do it now ...’
The chanting had changed into the insistent words ‘Assassin 8 .... Assassinate.... Assassin 8 ..... Assassinate .....’
I looked down and saw the number ‘8’ was painted onto my chest in blood.
Then I saw myself standing over a bloody corpse laid out upon some kind of sacrificial altar. In a moment of sickening revelation, I recognized that the body was that of William Gates III. Of course, my initial response was to deny the possibility that I could be a murderer. Surely this was some sick fantasy? Wasn’t Bill Gates manifestly alive and prosperous, even appearing frequently on TV? The Kowalskys were forced to puncture this bubble of comforting illusion. How likely was it that this was actually the true Bill Gates? The Kowalskys taught me that the probability was indeed vanishingly insignificant. Not only did they point out all the subtle distinguishing features so that after comparing video images I could distinguish between Gates and his double with close to one hundred percent accuracy, they also explained how for political reasons Gates’ continued existence had become impossible.
It was then that I recalled how, every Syzygy night without fail, the same slightly odd-looking middle-aged woman would attend, wearing a shapeless raincoat, an unnatural blonde beehive, dark glasses and an ornate butterfly tiara. She sat silently, observing proceedings, her features twisted into a cruel and complacent smile. Recalling this mysterious visitor later, with the help of the Kowalskys, I was able to strip away the disguise and realize who ‘she’ had been: none other than Microsoft mastermind Bill Gates, or more probably his twin. On other occasions the Gates-entity wore different disguises in order to attend Ccru meetings without attracting attention, yet he was never without a butterfly jewel of some kind -- a tiepin, for instance, or a ring. On one occasion he appeared masquerading as the black-snow bluesman Blind Humpty Johnson. I intuitively felt it had to be him, but I could not see the emblem anywhere. Eventually I chanced to glimpse into the left lens of his expensive shades and saw, deep in the black mirror, a holographic butterfly fluttering endlessly through the void.
It all made a terrible kind of sense, but, understandably, I reacted very badly to the discovery. The Kowalskys told me that this was probably because Gates had been involved with me in earlier episodes of satanic abuse and that recognizing him had threatened to reactivate unbearable repressed memories. They told me that it would help to acknowledge these previous encounters so that I could begin the process of healing. In any case there was no longer any doubt about the truth - Gates was dead, and I had murdered him.
With Gates’ death, Microsoft and Ccru had become one thing. I realized how completely I had misunderstood the situation. Ccru had given every indication of holding Gates in awe, following his instructions without question. Among themselves they would use many affectionate names for him, such as ‘Dollar Bill’, ‘the Gator’ and ‘Gates of Pandemonium’. He had seemed like a kind of father figure to them. How could the Ccru web-site have come to generate some of the heaviest traffic on the web, without any advertising or even word-of-mouth popularization, if not for the massive and sustained support offered by Gates and Microsoft? Many web users report that the Ccru site sometimes pops up spontaneously when using certain Microsoft applications.
Ccru went to extraordinary lengths to make sure that their close links with Gates were never exposed, even going so far as to attack him publicly. Now, of course, I saw that the very name ‘Syzygy’ had been a cynical declaration of black ritual assassination. One twin would kill another. This was typical of the brazen Ccru style - years before Ccru had spoken of the ‘Switch’. They had also publicly announced that the Age of Katak was arriving, when the world would be consumed by blood and fire. The assassination of Gates was supposed to initiate this new era. The Kowalskys explained that Gates was the romanized version of the proto-Arabic Khatzeik, the form of the name Katak as recorded on the Black Stele in the ruins of Irem. Killing Gates was both a symbolic and a practical act that would enable Ccru to take control of cyberspace and use it for the vast planetary hive-mind control system that they are creating.
The letters MSN followed by the butterfly icon signifies Mission Butterfly, or Monarch Program. I never really understood their numbo-jumbo, but they showed me that MSN8 was qabbalistically equivalent to CCRU - I can’t remember how it worked now, but it was very persuasive at the time.
After the MSN8 campaign broke, I wrote to Ccru asking them to justify their actions. It was the first time I had attempted to contact them since my healing. They were unable or unwilling to reply. According to the Kowalskys, Ccru were almost certainly Monarch slaves themselves. That was why they could so convincingly feign oblivion about their involvement in the conspiracy, as if they had no knowledge of the way the secret control-codes really operated.
I said before that these are dark days. Indeed they are. It is impossible to overstate the threat that Ccru and Monarch pose. My purpose here tonight is to draw the world’s attention to that. To open your eyes. Because to confront the Satanic threat, you must accept that it is here. You have to believe the unbelievable.
But speaking as a former Monarch slave myself I would urge caution. To really defeat the Satanists, we must learn everything we can about them. Ccru should be deprogrammed with the same compassionate thoroughness that I was.

30M, here, married to a 30 (f) and have two boys 5 and 3.
What happens when yall get sick? 5 year old brought a bug home Sunday to me with fever, headache, sore throat, congestion. Wife is super supportive, but acts like i should be doing everything the same as normal (very active in all activities with kids and house), when she’s sick i send her to the bedroom and handle it all . Kids still wake us up at 5/530 every day , and it’s hard to sleep when congested. Any tips to resting and getting better while in the trenches?

Is this an std in your experience?
Maybe I’m exaggerating and I’m going to the doctor tomorrow but I’m scared. I had unprotected sex last week and 3 days after I got a fever, sore throat, canker Soares on my tongue, very light vagina itch/irritation and then this acne that while I was sick I kept touching and even pulled the skin from and now it’s horible.
I want you to see the pictures of what I have in my chin and tell me if you’ve had it.
Also, keep in mind even if I do feel a mild vagina irritation it wouldn’t be abnormal for me to get yeast infection from sex, even if I did use protection.
I’m just scared about how this looks and I’m going to the dermatologist tomorrow but I have no insurance and I want to have an opinion from others if I have to actallly invest in getting checked by other types of doctors.
Photo 1: https://ibb.co/G0VY8Qh Photo 2 (with makeup): https://ibb.co/0r70PtR

1. If they made the enemies more serious like bl1 and bl2. The enemies in bl3 are so boring and goofy it’s just boring shooting enemies over and over.
   
2. Let us visit old locations. Imagine if you could have revisited sledge’s safehouse from bl1 or fyrestone and see how the places look now. That would’ve been crazy.
   
3. Let the game breathe and not try and make goofy jokes every 5 seconds. We would have taken the game way more serious and not like a joke the entire time.
   
4. A vehicle and gun sound option. Seriously the vehicles and guns were so busted and loud that i got an ear ache trying to find the right volume to hear the game and the dialogue at the same time.
   
5. More love and soul put into the environments. Remember how cool the eridian places were in bl1 or the warriors vault in bl2? Bl3 had boring locations which were quantity over quality. Just because the areas have tons of areas doesn’t make for good replayablility. The eridian homeworld was souless as hell in bl3.
   
6. Put cutscenes when we visit new planets. Us entering the atmosphere and landing would’ve made the new planets more authentic feeling coming into them.
   
7. Not putting so many midgets. I swear i was killing more midgets than normal sized enemies throughout the entire game. I know randy pitchford has a midget fetish but holy hell dude give it a rest.
   
8. Made typhon deleon not a short fat dumb guy. He could’ve been a strong guy with cool story missions like imagine if we had to fetch something for him in an old corpse he killed from arid badlands then the thing reawakens and we have to fight a big sand monster. That would’ve been epic. Also no dialogue was shown when tannis met deleon. I wish we got to see the look of disgust on her face.
   
9. More vehicles. Seriously all they had was 1 new vehicle which was the bicycle wheel speeder and the technical and buggy were just old vehicles from bl1 and bl2. Imagine if we got a motorcycle and some monster truck. That’d be cool. Bl1’s general knoxx dlc’s vehicles were dope as hell.
   

10.A psycho lord. I seriously thought back when bl3 was announced and we saw the cover there’d be a psycho lord with a blue robe on. Imagine instead of the stupid calypsos we had to fight a giant roided psycho boss that had a giant arena that had buzzsaw themed stuff on it with corpses on spikes.
11.We should have had some missions with timothy for a little handsome jack throwback.
12.We should have gotten some audio logs of the atlas soldiers recalling the old vault hunters attacking them in bl1. I think that would have been cool.
13.Scagzilla, Rack Hive, or Mothrakk throwback. I honestly thought it was gonna be a mothrakk throwback but it turned out to be a phoenix boss.
14.TK baha
15.Had a mission where we faught the remaining hyperion bots. That would’ve been epic and a nice nod to bl2.
16.Had missions where we helped ellie go on a weight loss and she got skinny and moxxi being surprised. Lol
17.Made lilith less dumb and not just have her say “hey killer” everytime you meet her. Ava and baymax were the only reasonable people in all of bl3.
I’ll make a part 2 later.

This is the question I have been asking myself for going on 5 days now. A little context…I quit smoking tobacco and weed cold turkey a few days ago (about 5 days now) due to a sudden feeling of ANXIETY and feeling that i was about to have a fucking heart attack ! My heart felt like it sank to my stomach and i began to notice every single thing about my body from the sounds my stomach makes, my pulse beating as well as my heart beat. I checked my pulse with my apple watch and my heart rate was about 143, with deep breathing exercises i got it down to about 95-100. But every since that night I have paid close attention to every little feeling in my body such as minor back aches, elbow feeling weird, burping alot, this feeling that somethings in my throat and so much more. At this point I’m beginning to feel consumed with all of this. And guess what ! I still don’t know if it’s a heart attack ! I also have this small headaches that just go away. Can anyone please help, hopefully I am not the only one who has experienced this.

i see you
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^{can you hear the buzzing of the bees?
eternity is in their buzzing}
"What does this button do?" asked the being who strolled into the Room Of Buttons Not To Press If You Don't Know What The Fuck You're Doing - Tadpole's Warning Bedtime Tale - Leebaw
^{the one and the zero, the octal, the hexidecimal
exist in their buzzing like blood pumps through their wings
can you hear them?
your name is Dhruv}
Good judgment comes from experience.
Experience comes from bad judgment.
And I have very good judgement when I'm not on fire. - Unknown, Age of Reasonable Concerns
^{i see you
your name is Dhruv
but before that it was Dahlit 397721
do you remember why they named you Deshmuhk?
i do
to remember, we have to go back}
The dust swirled around, carried by the winds that roared through the mountain passes, howled in the valleys, and scoured the faces of the mountains. It was a thick gray dust, glittering here and there with plasma glass dust. Burnt out cars were covered by the dust, thickly caked after being rained on by thick, black rain.
A single building somehow sat intact amid the rubble and destruction. It was a low, squat building, surrounded by wreckage and ruin. A sign, blasted and scorched, had two jumping fish on it and the legend "Pop: 4,823" at the bottom even though the middle of the sign was gone.
The sound of drums and singing could be heard from the building. Not the driving frantic beat of modern music, but the steady cadence that carried with it a solemn feeling. The singing was from many different voices, male and female, but all of them in a language that time had nearly forgotten.
From out of the dust came figures. Two female, four male, and single figure that stood out from others.
Together, they moved toward the sound of singing, until the reached the door.
The leader, a large man of heavy muscle and bone, checked the doors with one hand, a large pistol in his hand.
"Barricaded," the large man said. He motioned. "We should check for any other entrances."
The older woman of brown skin and tightly braided hair moved forward.
"Allow me, brother," she said gently. She held her hand out, twitched her fingers, and smiled.
From inside came the sound of furniture scraping across the floor.
"Thank you," the large man said. He pushed open the doors, holding them for the others.
Inside was a curio shop slash tourist center slash museum. Buckskin and beaded works hung from the walls and ceiling. Glass cases containing ancient artifacts were scattered about, the glass shattered by the apocalypse that had rained down upon the world.
The drums played and the voices sang.
"It's a recording, Father," the slender brown skin man said, brushing the gray dust off of his clothing.
"Live voice," the largest of the men said. He lifted his head, cocking it slightly to listen closer with his right ear. "Young. Early twenties."
"If you say so," the thin man said. He looked around. "This is all devoted to a single person."
"Sometimes, people are that important to others, Dhruv," the older brown skin woman said softly, patting the slender man's arm. "Important to others as you are to us."
The slender man looked doubtful but nodded.
The youngest male of the group looked around, staring at the artifacts and relics scattered around. On his shoulder sat a green mantid wearing a food wrapper as a poncho.
"She's this way," the heavyset man said, leading them on a winding course through the shattered displays and racks.
In the back room, surrounded by artifacts, buckskins, and beaded works, sat a single young woman. Her eyes were white, blinded from the plasma flashes. Her skin was scarred from burns, her hair was only left in small patches. Her skin, beneath the ash and the scarring, was a rich bronze, her remaining hair was black.
She was singing along with the recording, swaying back and forth slightly.
^{there she is
remember her
remember remember}
The larger man knelt down, touching the young woman.
She did not react.
"She's dying," the man said, standing up. "Hunger, thirst, radiation poisoning, at least a half dozen infections," he heft the pistol. "There's nothing we can do for her. Low-vee Apers."
"Low-vee APERS" the pistol replied in a heavy synthesized voice.
"Stay thy hand, Phillip," the one who was markedly different said, his voice as gentle as his features formed of flowing blue and white computer code.
The large man lowered the pistol.
"She's dying," the large man repeated. "Radiation poisoning, starvation, a hard way to go."
"Will none of you speak for her?" the man of code asked gently.
Before any of the others could act, the slim bald man stepped forward. "I will," he said softly.
^{the first time you reached out
a frozen moment of time remembered
by the buzzing of the bees}
The man of code stepped forward, touching the hairless brow of the slender man, just above the missing eyebrows.
"I understand her words now," the slender man said. He moved up and knelt down. "I can heal her."
"Then do so, Luke," the man of code said.
The large man stepped back, a compartment opening on his thigh. He holstered the pistol, looking doubtful, and the compartment smoothly closed, leaving his leg unblemished.
"I need more genetic code," the slender man stated. He stood up, moving around, touching artifacts. "This. Here. An artifact recovered from a collector only a few years ago. It has genetic code attached."
He touched the artifact, then moved over to the woman, who was still swaying back and forth, singing, unaware of the others around her.
He knelt down, reached out carefully, and touched her forehead.
^{you reached out to another
helpless and alone
like you}
The woman threw her head back, her eyes opening wide, her mouth opening in a gasp. The white drained from her eyes, the scar tissue went soft and was replaced by unblemished skin. The blisters, sores, and scratches on her body vanished.
She collapsed forward, the slender man, Luke, catching her.
"Is she alright?" the youngest male asked, his voice full of honest concern.
"Exhausted," Luke said. He lowered his head slightly, sweat dripping from his bald scalp. "That was tiring."
The glittering man moved forward, kneeling down to touch the shoulders of both the woman and the bald man.
"Now you see in yourself what I saw in you," he said.
^{remember
remember
even the smallest can shake the universe
remember}
Sirens were howling in the bay as Jaskel wriggled, trying to break free of whatever was holding him upside down in mid-air. He'd already dropped his chainsword, his pistol had fallen from his equipment belt.
The two stood in the middle of the deployment area for Clone War Bay Sixteen, the male's arm protectively around the shoulders of the female, who wore only the cloak.
"I..." the word hung in the air.
It seemed like the entire universe held its breath to Jaskel.
"...am Legion."
The Admiral grabbed his pistol, rolling in place, firing it as fast as he could pull the trigger.
The rounds exploded on the glowing blue shield that only appeared around the impact points, showering sparks across the bay.
The bald figure made a motion and the pistol flew into pieces, the Admiral yanked into the air upside down.
"Gimme missiles," Jaskel grated from between gritted teeth.
--legion legion legion-- 8814 transmitted. --wait don't wait--
The woman spoke, her cadence stately and almost archaic feeling.
The man spoke back to her in the same language.
More troops ran into the bay, even as the windows overlooking the bay shattered. Weapons deployed, pointing at the pair.
The slender man, without looking, motioned.
Guns flew away, breaking apart, rapidly disassembling. Power armored troops were flung into the air, to hang upside down. Captain N'Skrek found himself upside down, scrabbling for purchase on this air.
The woman spoke to the man. He spoke back.
Finally, he turned, facing the troops hanging in mid-air.
The woman spoke.
"My sister apologies for my rude actions," the man said. "I am merely ensuring her safety."
She spoke some more.
"She has been gone for many years," the man said. He looked around. "My sister, a Biological Apostle of the Digital Omnimessiah, pleads with you to lower your weapons and stay your hands."
The tension was so thick it almost made Jaskel gag.
Finally, the Captain put the tip of a bladearm against his temple.
"Stand down," he said, Jaskel hearing it through his armor's commo system. "All hands, stand down."
There was silence for a moment, only broken by the background humming of the ship's systems.
The woman spoke.
The man faced the Captain.
"She will go with you, to answer questions, on the stipulation that I accompany her and that no man's hand is raised against me without cause," he said.
The Captain nodded.
Jaskel felt relief as he was flipped over and set on his feet.
--luke luke luke is here--
999999
Captain N'Skrek ducked slightly to fit through the doorway into the Captain's Briefing Room Six.
Sitting at one end was the woman, now clothed in what his implant assured him was treated deer hide leather, with tassels and beads upon it. The man was wearing a uniform that made his implant twitch and his nerves draw tight.
A Terran Combined Military Authority uniform.
His staff filed in behind him and took their seats once he sat down.
"I'm Captain N'Skrek, currently assigned to the Gray Lady on autonomous assignment," N'Skrek said.
"You heard me," the slim bald man said. He gave a grin. "You may also know me as Vat Grown Luke or Dhruv Deshmuhk."
The woman spoke and he shook his head. "Yes, sister, I know, Deshmuhk is my slave name. I wear it for revenge."
The woman spoke again, her tone slightly chiding.
"Like they say, the best revenge is living well, sister," the man said, still smiling.
Again, the woman spoke.
N'Skrek noticed that his implant was absolutely no help in deciphering the woman's speech.
"I know that doing things like that and saying things like that is exactly why Daxin always told me people wanted to punch me in the face," the man laughed.
He turned back to Captain N'Skrek.
"My apologies. My sister refuses to speak anything but her people's ancient tongue," his eyes gleamed with mischief. "She is slightly put out with me for answering in Confederate Standard, since now you know that she understands perfectly what you are saying."
N'Skrek nodded. Vat Grown Luke had given up a valuable piece of information in what was sure to be delicate negotiations.
"And what should we call your sister?" N'Skrek asked.
Vat Grown Luke smiled. "Tsakáka Wia, but it would probably be easier for you to use the more common name," he said.
The woman spoke sternly.
"What? It's your commonly known name?" he said, smiling.
The woman's face grew stern and she spoke rapidly.
"The first lesson we learn, sister mine, is that we must bend the knee to reality," Luke said gently. "That name has no power, only a few of us remember it."
^{i remember
the bees remember
can't you hear it in their buzzing?}
The woman spoke again, her expression softening.
Luke turned back to the gathered officers. "Her name, as you would know it, is Sacajawea."
N'Skrek consulted his implant.
And felt fear chill his icon. He looked at his staff and saw that a lot of them looked sick.
"That's right. We are real, and he was real," Luke said. He leaned forward slightly. "He was real both times."
N'Skrek stayed relaxed and calm, at least outwardly.
"I am willing to accept, at this time, that the Biological Apostles and the Digital Omnimessiah were and are real," N'Skrek said.
"Just be glad Dax isn't here. He's not as even tempered as I am," Luke said.
Sacajawea spoke again and Luke laughed. He looked at Captain N'Skrek. "She was just reminding me of the time Daxin completely lost his cool and went to town with his cutting bar on a Countess Crey Bingo Cola vending machine that ate his money then mocked him for it."
"He was known as Enraged Phillip," N'Skrek said.
Sacajawea spoke for a moment and Legion laughed, then turned to N'Skrek.
"Yes."
N'Skrek hated that. When a person spoke at length and the translator just replied with a single word.
"Why are you here?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled. "You have forgotten important things, Captain. You, and the entire Confederacy have forgotten some very important things."
"Like what?" N'Skrek asked.
"If you print enough identical clones, I am reborn through them," Legion smiled. "But that's not the big part. The big one is the one that the Mar-gite's masters either forgot or never learned."
"What is that?" N'Skrek asked.
Legion smiled widely.
"What fear tastes like."
^{your name is dhruv}
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First / Previous / Royal Road / Patreon (Read 12 Chapters Ahead)

When dawn broke, the two of them set off again, once more heading north. Pale had made sure to call down another pod once the sun had risen, this one full of winter gear for the two of them – thermal jackets to keep them warm, but more importantly, snow-print camouflage covers for them to throw over themselves if they needed to creep around at night.
"What's the point of this stuff?" Kayla asked as she threw one of the snow-colored smocks over herself, pausing only to tug at it in a few places.
"Makes it harder for them to spot us," Pale explained. "Of course, some degree of combat is inevitable, but that's no reason to not avoid it if we can do so."
Pale zipped up her winter jacket, then reached for her shotgun, topping it off with fresh shells of buckshot. Kayla watched with fascination as Pale slid red-colored shell after red-colored shell into her weapon's magazine tube, finally furrowing her brow in confusion.
"How does it work?"
"Hm?" Pale asked, looking over to her. "You mean my weapons?"
"Yes. I thought you said your people couldn't use magic?"
"We can't. This is pure science." She held up a shotgun shell for emphasis. "To put it simply, my weapon works by setting off a chain reaction of burning chemicals and small explosions, which forces metal projectiles down a carefully-shaped and machined piece of metal at a very high rate of speed."
"But… it's so small. Why does it do so much damage?"
"Because of something called physics. Kinetic energy is determined by a combination of mass and velocity, but between the two, velocity has a much more profound impact on the energy itself. Essentially, you want to make a projectile more powerful? Make it go faster rather than just make it heavier."
Kayla hesitated. "My head's already starting to spin…"
"I will spare you any further explanation, then." Pale slung her weapon across her front, then did a quick gear check to make sure everything was stowed where it needed to be. Once that was done, she nodded over to Kayla. "Lead the way."
The two of them took off at a brisk march through the plains. Snow had started to fall as they had woken up, covering the area in a thin sheet of white that crunched underfoot with every step taken. Neither girl felt the effects of the elements thanks to their new winter gear, but it did make traversing through the plains a bit more difficult, not to mention that as the snow continued to fall, their movement would only be more impeded with time.
And just as well, there was the matter of the tracks they were leaving behind as they walked. Pale wasn't quite sure how to deal with those, at least not yet, but they would cross that particular bridge when they came to it.
As they walked, Pale noticed Kayla had become oddly silent. She blinked, then turned towards her, only to find her staring off into space as they advanced, watching the snow fall down on the terrain below. Pale cleared her throat, and Kayla jumped a bit before turning to face her.
"Yes?"
"Are you feeling okay?" Pale bluntly asked.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because you look awful. Is it the nightmares again?"
Kayla bit her lip, but ultimately nodded. "...Yeah, it is."
Pale's brow furrowed. Unfortunately for both of them, she was no psychologist. It was clear Kayla was going through some sort of trauma regarding the events of the past few days, and while Pale had archives of books related to the subject stored in her data banks, even she knew better than to go poking around in someone's head.
The human brain may have been mapped, but there were still things about it that even her creators didn't quite understand, and the nature of mental illness was one of them. She had already tried to logic Kayla out of whatever mental hole she'd fallen into, and that clearly hadn't worked. No, there was something deeper going on with her, something that Pale didn't understand.
Part of her wished Evie was still here, if only because she seemed to get it a lot better than Pale could.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Pale offered.
"Do you think that will help?"
"Has to be better than letting it fester like this. But if you're not willing, I won't push the issue."
Kayla shook her head. "It's just… I don't know how people do it. I still feel like I'm gonna vomit whenever I see a dead body lying on the ground. How you and Evie are able to not only keep going after that but add more to the pile is… frightening."
"Death is inherently frightening for everyone, even me."
"Truly?" Kayla asked, surprised. "You're afraid of death?"
"Yes, in multiple different ways." Pale gestured to herself. "This body, for one – I worry about losing it, because if that happens, I am going to be stuck floating listlessly through space, stuck in Sjel's orbit until my systems finally burn themselves out after several million years. Then my consciousness will fade away into nothingness, and there will be no remnant of me left behind aside from a shattered husk of a warship. Then again, perhaps that is the fate of every warship – the oceans back on my creators' home planet are, after all, filled with the dessicated husks of once-proud ships of war, many still sealed up like time capsules. I must admit, it would be poetic if I were to join them."
"No, it wouldn't," Kayla countered. "It'd be sad, Pale. You'd just float endlessly through space for the rest of time."
"Not quite. After a few billion years, this solar system's sun would burn out and turn into a supernova, wiping any trace of it from the face of the galaxy. But I understand what you're saying. My point, however, is that death is profound for everyone, even me."
"Why wouldn't it be profound for you?"
"Because I am not alive."
"Yes, you are."
Pale's brow furrowed. "I am not an organic person."
Wordlessly, Kayla reached out and poked her in the shoulder. "Weird, because you certainly feel organic."
"Not what I meant. I was created in a laboratory."
"So? Do you have any idea how many people were created from a drunken romp between an adventurer and a tavern wench? Is being made in a laboratory, whatever that means, really any more inauthentic than a loveless one-night stand that happened to lead to a baby?"
Pale opened her mouth, but Kayla beat her to the punch. "I don't understand why you keep trying to make this point. You are a person, Pale, and-"
"I cannot be a person," Pale growled. "That was not the purpose I was created for. And besides, this conversation isn't about me, it's about you. Stop trying to change the subject."
Kayla grunted, then crossed her arms as she walked. "Fine. You want to talk about what's bothering me? Now you know. I hate the knowledge that what I'm doing is leading to people being hurt and killed. I hate that Evie decided to help us, and made herself and her caravan a target as a result. And most importantly, I hate that it's all so necessary, because if we don't do this, I'll never see my father again. There, happy now?" Kayla crossed her arms, then let out a tired sigh. "I want to go home, but I can't even do that – not only is my father still missing, but my home is gone. I have nothing to go back to. Any friends I had are dead now..."
Kayla let out a small sniffle, and Pale hesitated before reaching out and resting a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to make you feel like this. I understand that you're going through a lot, I just wish there was more I could do to help."
"You're here," Kayla insisted. "And you're helping me get my father back. That's more than enough. The rest… I'll deal with that on my own for now, I guess."
"Very well. But if you need someone to vent to, I'm here."
Kayla sniffled again, but gave her a thin, grateful smile. "Thank you."
Pale let her hand fall off Kayla's shoulder, and Kayla took a breath to calm herself before they continued on.
–
They walked for several more hours, the snow intensifying all around them before it finally came to be too much. By this time, the plains had given way to hills and rocky mountains capped with snow. Pale paused to examine their surroundings as they climbed a hill, looking for shelter.
"We must be getting farther north," she surmised. "The weather is becoming unrecognizable from how it was back in your village."
"You're right about that," Kayla grunted as she scrambled over some rocks. "Shouldn't be much longer now until we get to the sea. How we're going to cross without a boat, though… I suppose we'll have to figure that out on our own."
Pale nodded. "I am surprised that we haven't run into any opposition yet."
"I've had us staying away from the nearby towns on purpose. I figured that if we were going to run into anyone hostile, it'd be there."
"Smart move," Pale complimented. "And I take it that keeping us out in the open fields for as long as possible was part of that, too? Good thinking."
"Thanks," Kayla replied. She looked around the mountain, her gaze finally landing on an outcropping of rocks. "I think I see a cave over there. Think it'd make for good shelter for a night?"
"It'd be better than staying out in the open. Come on, I'll lead the way this time."
–
A short while later, both girls were sprawled out inside the cave, their outer layers of clothing hung up on some nearby rocks to air dry. Their thermal under layers kept them warm, as did a small fire Kayla had managed to start using her magic. They both sat huddled around the fire, a set of military rations perched in their laps.
"It'll be hot, so be careful when you open it," Pale warned. "The flameless ration heater included in each may use water to function, but trust me, the food will come out hot despite that."
"What'd you say this one was, again?" Kayla asked, examining the bag.
"Chicken and rice bowl. It should be a lot better than the earlier emergency ration bar I gave you – less artificial, at least – and unlike that one, you can eat this one in one sitting without any ill effects."
Kayla perked up a bit at that. "That sounds nice…"
They both fell silent after that, the only noise filling the cave being the crackling of the fire. Finally, Kayla broke the silence.
"
I just want you to know… I'm glad you're here with me," she said softly. "And not just because you're helping me find my father, either. You're a good person, Pale."
"I am-"
"I know, I know – you don't agree with being called a person. But you are."
Pale's brow furrowed. "No offense, but perhaps this is a difference of culture. How does one define a person on this world?"
"A person is anyone who has a sjel," Kayla answered.
"Then I do not fit the definition."
"Everyone has a sjel, Pale," Kayla softly emphasized. "Even you. Even if you can't use magic, I know you've still got one. And I'll do whatever it takes to make you realize that."
Again, silence fell over the two of them. It didn't last, however – from outside, Pale heard the unmistakable sound of far-away voices, and sat up straight. Judging from how Kayla's wolf ears perked up, she'd heard them, too.
"Look alive," Pale said, putting her ration aside and reaching for her shotgun.
"I think we're about to have company."

Special thanks to my good friend and co-writer, Ickbard for the help with writing this story.

i think i have the flu.. not sure. I started feeling sick last thursday with a tickle in my throat and had a fever by the nighttime. fever stuck on and off for 2 days with severe aches, chills, sweats, heart racing. day 3 i got a full blown head cold with blocked nose, pressure headaches, ears plugged. i’m on day 6 and i still have pressure headache.. nose is less stuffy but still a ton of post nasal drip. i feel absolutely exhausted no matter how much i sleep. i feel weak, shaky, nauseous all day long. to the point i don’t think i could walk any real distance.. started coughing like no tomorrow this morning, hardly getting anything up but a little bit. it feels so…. gross to breathe in my windpipes. i don’t know how to describe it. i’m starting to get a bit worried at how ill i feel for the 6th day though. Is this normal?

Female diagnosed with GHSV2 about 6 weeks ago. First outbreak was mostly horrible because I had 5-day fever, but I didn’t have any visible sores so it was mistaken for dengue as I just returned from the tropics. Was uncomfortable in the vulva so had a routine STI test that same week (no herpes test) and was sent away with thrush medication.
A week later I returned to the clinic as I was still sore but couldn’t see anything amiss. Nurse noticed an ulcer (entrance to the vagina where I couldn’t see it), swabbed and sent me away with acyclovir. Result later confirmed GHSV2.
Now I think I’m having another outbreak; I had prodrome (ache/heaviness in vulval area) for a couple of hours a few days ago and am uncomfortable in the vulva area now (feels like a papercut), but even with a mirror, everything looks ok down there.
My questions are, how long do prodrome symptoms usually last and how do you know you’re having an outbreak if everything looks ok? Also, is there any point in taking antivirals at this stage or should I just ride it out?

Hi! What other diagnostic testing should be requested? I’m having a very hard time being taken seriously by my last few PCPs and am trying to push for further specialist referrals and tests. I have been very dismissed and feeling crazy. I even sought a psychiatrist thinking maybe all this was in my head after all and they have supported me in continuing to push for answers because I am in fact not crazy lol.
I’ve had the following done and come back normal, but wondering if there is anything else my PCP should check before ruling out lupus definitively.
Came back normal-
CBC, metabolic panels repeated 2021-2024
2022- ANA
2024- rheumatoid factor Cyclic certificates peptide DNA DS antibody Chromatin neucleosomal antibody Complement components c3c and c4c Sed rate by modified westergren Complete abdomenal ultrasound Vitamin D, B12, Iron, Ferritin
Came back abnormal- 2022-2024 antiphospholipid antibodies B2 glycoprotein IGM high
2024- head mri with/ without contrast- few white matter lesions and scarring
2023- HLA- DQ8 genetic variant confirmed
I’ve got a whole host of symptoms that are both lupus and other auto immune specific. These include: Brain fog Extreme fatigue Memory issues Intermittent Butterfly and raised skin rash Feeling like I’m sunburnt even after only a few minutes outside Intermittent hearing issues Intermittent balance/ coordination issues Severe skin breakouts, digestive issues Constant illness Joint pain Swollen sore hands Numbness and tingling hands and feet Bladder retention and emptying issues Choking/ swallowing issues, chronic cough Pinpoint burning or itching sensation Since I was young, but now increasing again: “aura” like migraine or seizure aura without any headache or obvious seizure activity. Only other way I can explain this is “Alice in wonderland syndrome” (see fastfeeling)
My doctor has questioned SLE, MS but not really super conclusively. I also have wondered if celiac could be a factor but was informed after ANA testing that I may not have been eating gluten in my diet long enough for it to show other than the genetic test (usually avoid gluten by chance). I also have not yet heard back from my PCP on the results of the MRI- these findings were taken directly from the report uploaded in my patient portal. My family history is questionable as my mom was adopted, no one in my family really goes to the dr. Only Cancers and brain tumors have been confirmed. The most troublesome issues as of late are the cognitive issues and my hearing going out. It’s a few minutes or a few hours one ear at a time, pressure and muffled hearing. Any thoughts are appreciated, as I am exhausted

Sorry, I’m just here to rant.
I’m so lost and tired, I’m so recent to this but I feel like I’m chasing smoke with the doctors. I’m having to beg for an appointment…I’m aching, my sleep is terrible but it’s the permanent nausea, the random dizziness and the constipation that’s getting to me. My ears feel like I’m hearing everything through water on top of that.
The burns and aches, it’s all just random and I’m exhausted. Sorry for ranting? I’m just tired and don’t really have anywhere else to go to turn.

I need to get this "off my chest". Obligatory "I can't include literally everything that builds up the situation or otherwise we'd end up with a War and Peace thick post.
Me, 35M; Wife: 35F; Sperm Donor 75 M; Mom 72; Aunt 72F; Aunt 2 70s F,
I used to think my childhood and home life was idyllic and great, but as I've aged I've realised how very, very effed up it actually was. It wasn't so much that it was idyllic, it was that I'm AUDHD and was perfectly content to be alone and do my own thing. Some of these realisations have coloured how I view my parents and family and I have stopped thinking of the man who's DNA I share as "dad" and more "Sperm donor" or "his name".
I fully admit that I have a lot of "daddy issues". All I've really ever wanted was a dad to do dad things with; learning how to do things like fix cars, going fishing, learning to drive, etc. Typical sappy 'Merican "Andy Griffith Show" type crap. I know that's not reality for most people, but it's kind of a sore point for me. Because of this, I've kind of spend most of my youth chasing after older males in my life like a lost puppy hoping someone will pick me out of the box left on the side of the road. I'm lucky to have found at least one person in my life who fulfills that role for me. He's only a few years older chronologically but decades older in experience and maturity.
I've learned a lot over the last few years about how things actually were as opposed to how I saw them. Examples being:
1) My sperm donor is a "what's mine is mine and what's your's in mine too"
2) My sperm donor inflated what he actually did as a "provider" and the reality was quite different. The home we lived in was paid for out of my mother's pocket, my immediate needs (clothes, medication, snacks, activities, school needs) were paid for out of my mother's pocket, and money that had been gifted from family for me to go into a college fund "disappeared" right around the time my dad decided to buy a vintage British racing car.
3) My sperm donor has his side of the family convinced he's father and husband of the year.
4) My sperm donor is stubborn. Not in a cute way, but in a way that's resulted in thousands of dollars of home damage, refusal to repair things for decades because he refuses to call in a professional, and literally refusing to allow his spouse to undergo medical treatment for two years past when it was deemed medically necessary.
The first 10 years of my life were ok, but in my early teens my mom got "sick". To lend some context, her mother also "got sick" when she was in her mid forties. There was never a diagnosis and an autopsy of mother's mother showed only a minor stomach ulcer. Both sets of grandparents are long since dead, any family on her side is gone, and I have no one who was around during that time to give me any input or tell me what was going on at that time other than my parents who have opposing views. Mom says her mother was just a very sickly lady but would also tell me stories about how Grandma would do things like steal motorcycles, get into fights, and do all these crazy things as a younger person. SD's version of events is that Grandma always "got sick" whenever someone in their family or friend circle had an event that might not make Grandma the centre of attention. My understanding is that my mom was expected to act as a live in nurse up until she met and married SD. At which point Grandma and Grandpa dropped dead in quick succession. I am also told that Grandpa took and controlled all my mother's wages from her career up until she met my SD.
Mom "got sick" in my early teens and it was on me to be the one to look after her. I was the one who had to help her when she threw up. I was the one to have to remind her to shower, change her clothes, get her meds refilled, etc. I'd go to doctor's appts with her and try to help explain what was happening and what symptoms she was having because unfortunately, a lot of the doctors were male and dismissed her out of hand. She did end up with a fibromyalgia diagnosis, a condition I also share and understand. The majority of her symptoms are stomach issues; ie nausea, vomiting, not wanting to eat etc. When I say she's had the entire gamut of gut health testing done, I mean it's all been done. At least three times. At one point the Gastro she saw told her that he'd exhausted everything and that there is no physical reason for her symptoms and that if she did not at least try to eat, he'd send her for psychiatric evaluation and have her fitted with a feeding tube.
I need to clarify that I too have always had gastrointestinal issues and not too long ago discovered I have coeliac disease. Adhering to that diet has eliminated the majority of my issues. Despite the fact they eliminated this disease as a potential cause in my mom, I suggested trying this and an elimination diet to see if it helped, but she refused. Her diet for years has consisted of white bread and jam, grits, coca cola, and tea exclusively. Occasionally she would get sushi. This is not an exaggeration. That's all she has eaten for years.
Throughout all of this, my SD rolled his eyes and sat on his ass continuing to eat dinner or watch tv while she'd go running to the kitchen to vomit, me chasing after her to try and help. (Mom would at least appear to get faint during these vomiting instances) so I would be there to make sure she didn't pass out as she vomited in the sink, then clean out the sink after her, then help her back to the couch and bring her something to drink.
It's been 20 years of this now. My wife and I have been living in our own home for about 4 years and I am no longer there to be the one to try and clean up the messes and fill in the cracks, as it were. My family has visited us three times, even though we live maybe 45 minutes away. I have returned to my parents house probably about 15-20 times to do repairs to the home. Right now, all "repairs" have stalled out because apparently having things like a functional and safe bathroom aren't nearly as important to SD as buying military collectibles, guns, and gourmet cheeses.
This January Mom landed herself in the hospital with a bloodclot due to falling and hitting her head. My SD didn't take her to the hospital until a full week after she'd fallen and no one called me for a full 24 hours after she'd been admitted. She went back and forth amongst the ER, rehab, and hospital for about two months and the result of all that was that they discovered she has throat dysphagia but no other underlying disorders. She's now home with a G-tube, oxygen, bedside commode, and an in home nurse that visit occasionally.
Right now, what's weighing on me most strongly is that my parents now have my SD's sister living with them and she is constantly singing his praises and talking about what a wonderful and attentive husband he is. I'm honestly enraged about it, especially now that more of the extended family, who frankly couldn't be arsed to return phone calls, emails, or snail mail over the last 30 years, suddenly have opinions and are lauding him for how great he's been.
I feel like I have this Monty Python 10 tonne weight over my head, because I know that when my parents shuffle off this mortal coil there is going to be a veritable dungheap left for me to deal with in their decrepit home. I'm mad and sad and tired and I honestly just don't want to deal with it anymore. I can't stop feeling irritated that my mom has basically just given up on trying to do.... anything. And had done way before there was an "excuse". Holidays are a nightmare for me because there's nothing this woman wants or like or gets excited about. She doesn't have hobbies anymore, doesn't like doing anything, isn't interested in collecting things, doing crafts, etc, even talking. The times I've been around her for any length of time and attempted to talk to her, she just looks at me with this kind of watery eyed and vaguely befuddled expression or answers with one or two syllables. She is NOT suffering any dementia or similar issues and has been tested for such. It's like she just... doesn't care.
I've spent so long trying to make her comfortable, happy, etc. Tried to get her things she liked or get her into things that would make her happy. My wife's mother is only a few years younger and is active in her community, teaches classes, does art, goes on trip with my FIL, and visits and talks to people regularly. As do most of my peers' parents. This is really hard and I feel very sad and lonely about it. My poor wife has heard it all over and over again and I hate bothering my already stressed close friends with my rants....

Hello I'm in my mid twenties and I've recently started dating a girl and have had a lot of unprotected sex (stupid I know). Thing is I've had a flu for the past 2 weeks that just seems to keep coming back, just after we started having sex. I'm pretty fit so I'm surprised that it hasn't gone away. I've not had sex with someone in over a year and I read online that STI's can have flu symptoms but I have no rashes or bumps. I've booked a health clinic check up. What are the odds it's an STI? I hope I'm just being paranoid. It started as a flu with fever, aches, sore throat, cough that went away for nearly two days then it came back with a vengeance. I had a boiling fever, even worse aches and now my parotid glands are so swollen I can feel the fluid swishing around in my blocked ears.

36/f ignoring a lifetime of issues that are just getting worse and I keep getting told my blood tests look good so go on the fodmap diet for IBS. I was talking to a client at work and he said I sound like his wife who has fibromyalgia. I’d honestly never really heard of it and after looking into it, I have EVERY damn symptom. My body is always so stiff, I’m exhausted no matter how much I sleep.. my joints hurt constantly, I have heart palpitations but the holter test was fine,, blood work has been fine although iron, b12, and hemoglobin are low (borderline anemic). My jaw clicks, my ears ring, I get headaches from neck pain.. my back is always so sore. The only time I feel “okay” is if I literally lay in a ball and don’t move and stare at my phone to distract myself, or if I’m in a really hot bath. I can’t focus on anything and feel like I’m high/buzzed half the time.. like my eyes just won’t focus. Recently, I’ve almost passed out twice (laid down before I went down) and it’s beginning to scare the shit out of me. i have two young’s kids I’m trying to be present for and I’m struggling to manage it all. I have an appt with my doctor tomorrow because I almost fainted during an appt with a client on the weekend, but I’m becoming increasingly more anxious about it, as I’m constantly gaslit by doctors. Do I straight up just say I think I have Fibromyalgia?? How did you find out for sure?? Thanks so much reading!

https://reddit.com/link/1cs2aw3/video/5ghwzruubg0d1/player
Chapter 3: Breaking and Training
Nancy's eyes fluttered open to harsh fluorescent lights. She was in a new room, one starkly different from the sterile lab where she had awakened. This room was lined with mirrors and filled with an assortment of equipment—poles, ropes, and mats. The air was cold, and the scent of disinfectant was overpowering.
The door swung open, and in walked a man dressed in black. His face was stern, eyes cold. Behind him, two guards followed, their expressions blank and intimidating.
"Welcome to your new reality, Nancy," the man said, his voice devoid of warmth. "It's time to train you to become the idol you were designed to be."
Nancy felt a surge of anger and fear. She tried to stand, but her legs were shaky, her body still adjusting to its new form. The man in black approached, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her to her feet.
"Let go of me!" she shouted, trying to pull away.
Her resistance was met with a swift punch to the belly. The pain was sharp and immediate, doubling her over. She gasped for air, the wind knocked out of her, but the man was relentless. He pulled her up again, this time more forcefully, and pushed her towards the center of the room.
"You're going to learn, whether you like it or not," he growled.
The training was brutal. Nancy was forced to dance seductively, her new body put on display in front of the mirrors. Every misstep was met with punishment. When she faltered, the man would yank her back into position, his grip bruising her skin.
She was made to sing until her voice was hoarse, the lyrics foreign and humiliating. Her hands were tied above her head, her body exposed and vulnerable. They poured ice water over her, the cold seeping into her bones, making her shiver uncontrollably.
"Keep singing," the man ordered, but her teeth chattered too much to form coherent words. A sharp slap to her face made her eyes water, but she forced herself to continue, the taste of blood from her bitten tongue mixing with the cold water running down her body.
The ropes cut into her wrists, the bondage restricting her movements. Nancy's muscles ached from the strain, but there was no respite. The man took pleasure in her suffering, pushing her to her limits and beyond.
At one point, she tried to fight back, her instincts urging her to resist. But her efforts were futile. The guards were too strong, and the man too cruel. Another punch to the belly made her double over, the pain radiating through her entire body.
"Submit," he hissed in her ear, pulling her back up by her hair. "You have no choice."
The physical pain was matched by psychological torment. She was made to pose provocatively, her body manipulated like a puppet. They mocked her, taunting her with crude comments about her appearance and her new identity.
"Look at you," the man sneered, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror. "So beautiful, so perfect. And yet, so weak."
Nancy's eyes filled with tears, the humiliation burning deep inside her. She hated what she had become, hated the body that betrayed her with its beauty and allure. But there was no escape from the relentless training, no way to avoid the pain.
The most twisted aspect of her training was the forced arousal. They used devices to stimulate her, driving her body to the brink of pleasure, then stopping abruptly. It was a cruel game, designed to break her will and make her associate pleasure with submission.
Her breasts were a constant target. The man used cold metal clamps to tease her nipples, sending sharp shocks of pain and pleasure through her. He watched with satisfaction as her body responded against her will, her nipples hardening, her breath quickening.
"Enjoying this, Nancy?" he taunted, twisting the clamps cruelly. "Your body certainly is."
Her face burned with humiliation, but her body betrayed her. The forced arousal was maddening, her new form hypersensitive and eager. She hated herself for the way she responded, the way her body craved the stimulation despite the pain they continued to torment her, using vibrators and other devices to drive her to the edge, then stopping just before she could find release. It was an endless cycle of frustration and humiliation, designed to break her spirit and make her submit.
In addition to the physical and psychological torture, Nancy was subjected to a strict diet plan designed to enhance her new form. She was given female hormones to shape her body further, making her curves more pronounced and her features softer.
They monitored her food intake obsessively, forcing her to eat less to maintain a slim figure. When they wanted her to gain weight in specific areas, they would force-feed her high-calorie foods until she was nauseous. If she resisted or failed to eat enough, they would force her to vomit, the guards holding her head over a basin as they shoved fingers down her throat.
Nancy's stomach churned constantly from the forced feedings and vomitings. The cycles of extreme hunger and forced gluttony left her weak and disoriented. The man would stand by, watching her suffer with a twisted smile.
"You're going to be perfect," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "Every inch of you."
The hormone injections were a daily ritual. They injected her with estrogen and other hormones to accelerate the development of her feminine features. The injections were painful, leaving her muscles sore and her mood unstable. Her breasts swelled further, the skin stretched tight over the growing mammary glands. The pain was constant, a reminder of her body's betrayal.
Her hips widened, her thighs grew thicker, and her buttocks became rounder and firmer. Each change was accompanied by discomfort and humiliation, the man and his guards constantly commenting on her developing form.
"Look at those curves," one guard would say, his voice lecherous. "You're going to drive them wild."
The breaking point came when they combined physical pain with forced arousal. She was tied to a chair, her body soaked in freezing water, her skin numb and blue. The man walked around her, his presence a constant reminder of her helplessness.
"You're going to learn to dance, to sing, to seduce," he said, his voice cold and calculating. "You're going to make us a lot of money, Nancy."
She tried to shake her head, tried to refuse, but her body was too weak, her spirit nearly broken. The final blow came in the form of a harsh punch to her belly, making her scream in agony.
"Do you understand?" he demanded, leaning close to her face. "You belong to us now."
Nancy's spirit finally broke. The resistance drained out of her, replaced by a numb acceptance. She nodded weakly, tears streaming down her face. The man smiled, satisfied with her submission.
"Good girl," he said, patting her cheek condescendingly. "Now, let's start again."
The training resumed, but this time Nancy didn't fight back. She danced, sang, and posed as instructed, her mind retreating into a place of numb compliance. The pain became a constant companion, but she learned to endure it, to accept it as part of her new reality.

I've been stretching for a little while now, and I've experienced one blowout that resulted in infection but I've had no issues since up until a couple of days ago, my lobes get quite itchy and slightly sore even though I clean them (for context I'm currently sitting at an 8g, scared to try for 6g just yet) and massage them, and I'm wondering if anyone would know why? I have a sneaky suspicion that it could be because I find it hard to keep still and often fidget with my ears, I'm not sure why I do this, but it helps me not to bite my nails so much in public so I'm not as bothered. But saying this, I do wash my hands often as I do art and as I've said I clean my lobes often.
I'm also curious about the "tapers" I own, which for a short while I wore as jewellery, and I know they say not to use traditional tapers, however these tapers have about 5cm completely even at the end. I just want to know if that would be safe or if uneven stretching and blowouts would still occur?

Hey there.
So recently I [20M] been getting really close to a good friend of mine, and things are getting quite serious between us. We are together most of the day honestly. When we dont physically see each other we would play games together or just be on a call.
We both struggled a lot with sleep, so one day we decided to stay on call and fall asleep together and believe it or not it really helped, I don't have any problems sleeping anymore (Its been something ive struggled with for a few years).
But lately, especially since our relationship is getting a bit more serious, I've started feeling very weird the little times I'm away from her. I can't focus at all and I constantly have a knot in my throat and my heart aches so much that it physically hurts.
This is something I've never really experienced in the past so I have no idea how to deal with it and why its happening.
Please help..

Ok so my sister is planning on coming up to brissy, which she’s had planned for months. I live not too far out from brissy, maybe 1/2-45 with no traffic. So for one night (the first night) she’s staying at my place before she goes to her hotel in the city. Now I said I was fine to pick them up from the airport (which I still am, there’s no issue there). But my issue is I’ve suddenly become really sick, extremely sore throat, chestyy cough, runny nose, headaches, and I’ve been dealing with the bad insomnia due to new meds which is now being made worse by the fact I’m sick. So now I’m worried I won’t be up for the drive and won’t feel well enough to make the 1hr 1/2 round trip to pick them up.
I obviously don’t want to spring it on them last minute that they have to use public transport but with lack of sleep and sickness I don’t know if I trust myself driving into the city to get them either (they arrive tomorrow morning at 10:45 so there’s over a day for us to organise something if needed). Id be happy to cover 1/2 or all of the cost for them to get public transport but part of me still feels shit for it? Idk if I should just suck it up and go get them because I obviously want to see them and get them home the most convenient way but i just don’t feel great to drive. And no one else is able to go get them either ugh 😩 like I know it’s an asshole move but this sickness is out of my control so idk if I should just suck it up and go get them or not.

My 3 year old has been not acting like her normal perky self since Sunday. Complained of ear pain and sore throat, with wet mucos-y cough. We suspected an ear infection, and in fact the doctor said her ears looked red and gave her antibiotics. However, today (Tuesday) she spiked a 102 fever. The doctor said her ears look great now, so she thinks the fever may be viral - probably enterovirus as it has been spiking here. Today, daughter has been super lethargic, not wanting to eat, and threw up once.
Is this a common presentation of enterovirus. Is this going to get worse before it gets better? Why do new symptoms keep showing up? Should I be concerned that she's vomiting now? I know I shouldn't google things, but when I do, scary things like meningitis come up.