Extrem neck pain

The injector I’m considering going to says 2ml is required for Russian lips. My lips aren’t small but pretty normal. It’s mainly my top lip that is small. Does 2ml seem extreme? I don’t want it to look painfully obvious

I was always a good looking guy.
Good eyes, jawline, abs, things of that nature.
However, I've also always been helplessly awkward around women for whatever reason.
After a lot of thinking and many times during family dinners my dad drunkly demanded me to bang a woman already, I decided to grudgingly install Tinder.
I already had some exprience with texting women online, so it was the same usual crap that made me not want to install tinder in the first place:
1)I text a girl.
2)she takes hours to reply because she wants to seem like she's so cool and busy and because she frankly doesn't give a fuck about me.
3)I do the same.
4)I say some silly jokes so she likes me like I'm some fucking clown.
5)I then ask to meet up.
6)she ghosts me.
7)on to the next girl.
This frustrating pattern went on with 3 girls until I finally texted a girl who i thought was nicer.
This girl, Casey, actually seemed to be interested. She said I'm funny, and handsome and that she'd love to meet up.
I was very intimacy deprived, so that was enough to completely turn off any sort of rationale I had.
Looking back, I should've been wiser.
She proposed to meet at a park that was suspiciously right next to my house.
She knew where I lived.
Again, I was too horny to notice this.
We meet up and start talking. As we talk, even my extremely thirsty ass notices... It's just *too* easy. She laughs at every dumb joke I make. She compliments me a lot. She's the one to initiate touch... Almost like... I'm where she wants me to me and she wants me to stay there... The more we talk, the more I notice her laugh seems... forced. Again, like she's just using it to lure me in. At one point, even my horny ass began feeling uncomfortable and it started getting late. I hugged her and said goodbye. I was then stopped. I felt a sharp, burning sudden pain in my arm. I sighed and turned around cautiously, knowing it'll be an unpleasant sight. Turns out, it wasn't an unpleasant sight. It was much worse than that. Her hand was now covered in blood as her nails dug deeper and deeper into my forearm. I gasped and tried to release myself, only for her grip to strengthen. My eyes then traveled from her hand to her face. Her face was contorted in horror; her lips were pursed tightly and her forehead was scrunched, her eyes were wide and her pupils were so dilated that they were almost completely black. Her bottom lip trembled and a stray tear rolled down her cheek.
"u-um... why are you sca-"
She cuts me off
"Please," she whispered, her voice trembled as she forced out the words, "Don't go. I don't want to do this."
"Do what...?" I cautiously ask
"...please just come with me. p-please..." she answers, her voice very shaken.
I barely knew this woman. She showed a ton of red flags and this just escalated significantly. Although it created much guilt in me, I decided to run away.
"COME BACK, PLEASE!!!" She screamed, her voice became so hoarse from her desperate screaming it hurt to hear her...
Eventually, I arrive back home.
I think to myself "Finally some peac-" I feel some liquid drip on my nose from the ceiling. I turn on the light and look up. My eyes widen. I swiftly run to bathroom and vomit for what seems like hours from the grotesque sight I've just witnessed. I return to the room and stare at Casey's corpse. It was such a grotesque sight that I won't even attempt to describe it, as I think there's such a thing as "too much". But to give you some idea of what happened to her, let's just say... she had very beautiful and clear skin... I wonder where it went...
I kept staring at her body as it hung lifelessly from the ceiling. I then remembered something she said at the start of the date... "I would panic if you didn't come hehe..."

I just bought my first pair of New Balance's - they are the 574's and I love them. They are extremely comfortable and I've been so happy with them but since I bought them, I noticed that my right toes were hitting the front of the shoe. I have never had an issue with shoes fitting my feet differently, and this is the first time I've experienced my toes hitting the front wall of a shoe on one foot and not the other.
I have been wearing them consistently hoping they'd get better, but it's still the same and I constantly feel pain and discomfort in my right toes. It's frustrating when walking as well. Has anyone had this issue? Is this something New Balance would be willing to help with?

I’ve only ever worn progressive lenses for the last 10 years that I’ve worn glasses. I’m 55 now and sitting in front of several large computer screens all day I find I’ve got neck pain pretty much 24/7. This year I’ve decided to get a new pair of glasses with lenses for work only. They’re being made now, but I had some questions you folks might be able to help answer.
The prescription seems the same as last year, but the add is 2.00 this year as opposed to 1.75 last year. Is that because of some measurable degradation or is that simply the magical number for 55?
The lenses are Shamir Workspace. Is it the lense itself that makes it good for use in from of a computer or the prescription that’s written?
Lastly will I still want to get a separate pair for just reading or will these do for that as well?
Thanks!

A candid reflection of my first solo trip:
It was on my first night in Japan that I forgot I was alone. Tokyo’s Shinjuku district greeted me with bright neon lights illuminating flocks of tourists walking shops, arcades, and food stands. And somehow, I was a very small part of it, all by myself on the other side of the world. (Maybe with the occasional tout trying to follow me around.)
Solitude is a vulnerable state, and consequently, a compromise. You seize the moment for yourself, and the space is only yours to fill, but intrusive thoughts will covertly slip through and permeate like a disease. Underneath all the lights, humanity surrounded me, enjoying a drink with friends or snapshotting a moment with family. All these people congregated here from around the world, and in spite of their differences, companionship was what they all shared together. The streets filled with the sounds of their life.
But when you feel alone, the mind tricks you into believing that you are not part of it. And you become a silent spectator, watching the phenomenon that is humanity being orchestrated in front of you. It’s a hollow feeling.
And after not speaking and hearing the sound of your own voice for a while, it becomes replaced by a solemn tone whispering empty thoughts. I tried not to listen.
Nevertheless, Tokyo was beautiful (Senso-ji temple was stunning and my favorite Japanese dessert is now age manju). One night, I even went to a Japanese hip-hop show in Shibuya and it was a wonderful experience. Getting to watch such extremely talented artists so passionate about their craft inspired me and pulled me away from ruminating loneliness for some time. I met one of the performing artists after the show and told him how much I loved his verse (despite not understanding it) and we hugged and he cried. He thanked me over and over until he started apologizing for thanking me so much. It was a special moment and I will always remember his humility. (His band is KOMOREBI - check them out!).
I also went out with some other travelers that night, trying okonomiyaki in Setagaya for the first time (it was mouthful bliss) and then went out to a punk rock concert, and a night club. I wasn’t a huge fan of the clubbing, but the company was refreshing. And like all good things, it was fleeting, and I bid my farewell to everyone that night.
I packed my things, and took a bullet train to my next stop, Kyoto. I was anticipating it, as the train zoomed south with Mount Fuji in surreal, passing view. Looking out the window, seeing my own transparent reflection, I took a breath. The train was moving at around 300 km/hour, but everything felt still and quiet. Even the parts of me that wanted to cry.
Kyoto was rich with temples and vestiges of a long, cherished history. I visited the Kyoto National Museum where I saw sculptured deities with venerable auras, parables scripted in decayed scrolls, and art that embodied Buddhist principles. I saw elevated temples monumental and grand, and others more modest and reserved. But they all stood resolutely, bearing the resilience of time and constant revival. They have felt desecration during arson and natural disasters, but throughout history, the Japanese have rebuilt and renovated them. And somehow, after enduring all this, as long as time has persisted, here they stood before me, as a testament to strength and preservation.
The long-lasting principles of Buddhism and the culture that were so deeply rooted in this country’s history must continue to live on through the structures that stood before me. Purpose is enough to withstand the cruelty of time’s passage. And the cycle of destruction and restoration that traced centuries was felt in the emanating silence only occupied by the sounds of water trickling down a rill or the occasional soft, swaying of trees. I like to think that ancient silence had touched my existence in those moments and advised me to listen.
Solitude is painful because the empty space that comes with it is congregated by the deeper parts of ourselves that seek to dwell on the purpose of our existence. It is when we are alone and quiet that obtrusive questions confront us, invoking us to listen and contemplate. And when we fail to answer gracefully, that is when the loudest and most self-destructive parts of ourselves will answer for us. The parts that are so keen in stripping our humanity from us.
After my last day in Kyoto, I packed all my things once again, and went over to my final destination, Osaka. I had only one night there. And it was an abrupt return to bustling crowds in the metropolitan. Existential silences were replaced with the sounds of humanity again. But as I walked through Dotonbori on a Friday night eating lots of warm, delicious takoyaki and skewers of Kobe beef, that feeling still returned. I knew I was unwell. And trivialities started to begrudge me and I could tell that it was time. And there would be no escaping it.
I took a taxi back to my hotel and I laid in my bed earlier than expected that night. And everything finally spilled. I cried and I cried and I cried. I was finally listening and it hurt doing so.
This solo trip was supposed to help me escape my problems, but it didn’t. When I brought myself here, I brought everything, and that included problems I wish I could have left behind. And amidst my issues, I questioned myself and my place in the world, even my very reasons for existing during times I felt like I had nobody. And albeit having wonderful moments with people throughout my trip, even strangers who treated me with grace and hospitality, that feeling still lingered and it was revealing a deeper issue. An issue not with whether I was in Japan or back home. Or whether I had people around me or I was alone. It was a deeper issue with myself.
But the silence that comes after the storm is just as serene as the silence that precedes. The older I get, the more I begin to have a respect for emotions and their function. They must be felt and I don’t think they are there to harm or sabotage us, although it might seem like it. It is a need to be heard not by others, but by ourselves. Listening to our own cries for help is scary and uncomfortable, but the silence that follows is like an aged temple still standing after centuries of cyclical adversity. Like the calm flow of water down a rill. Like the soft swaying of trees.
My 10-day solo trip was coming to an end. It was coming time to go home. I spent my last day in Tokyo walking Yoyogi Park. The sky was a clear melancholy overhead scattered, naked trees around the park. I saw couples sitting together, friends circled on picnic blankets, and some reading a book by themselves. Humanity felt beautiful that day and I was grateful to be a part of it, one last time. I packed my things once more before taking my flight back home the next day.
I love Japan and I am grateful it carved a space for me to experience all that I did. This trip will forever hold a special place in my heart. But it was not an epiphany, as much as I wished it was. I did not return home as an entirely new person with newfound happiness or certainty. I returned with the same issues I left with, the same, flawed self that was proof of what it meant to be human this whole time. Only with new experiences. And I don’t think that will change.
My humanity lives in my constant struggle of self-preservation, as I continue to unravel and understand myself as I experience, feel, and change. And perhaps that is enough purpose for my own existence, to strive for those moments of silence, where I will continue to stand resolutely in my own imperfection, alone or not.

I’m reaching out to share a cautionary tale about my recent experience with orthodontic treatment gone wrong. I want to shed light on my situation, and seek advice on how to navigate this current situation.
Background:
I received orthodontic treatment from Dr. Nancy Phan in San Jose CA. During our initial consultation, she was pressed for time and sped through the explanation of my treatment plan. All I understood from her rapid explanation was that she recommended a palatal expander to widen my upper & lower jaw. However, what followed was a nightmare that left me with damaged teeth and a mountain of dental bills.
Dr. Nancy Phan has a practice called Care Orthodontics, where she has a bunch of watered down assistants doing her job for her. It's literally a pump and dump orthodontist place where they try to manage as many patients as possible. As a result, Dr. Nancy Phan doesn't have any assistants helping her while she's treating you. She literally holds the vacuum, water spray, and drill all at the same time... To me, this is the equivalent of a nurse giving you surgery, or the surgeon is performing surgery without any assistants nearby.
The Problem:
During the installation of the palatal expander, my orthodontist failed to properly assess the condition of my molars. One of these molars had a pre-existing fracture, which my orthodontist was aware of but chose to ignore. As a result, the appliance was placed in a way that directly impacted the roots of two of my molars.
The Consequences:
Within weeks of having the palatal expander installed, I started experiencing excruciating pain in the affected molars. A visit to my dentist confirmed the worst: both molars had sustained significant damage to their roots and required immediate intervention. I underwent root canal treatments followed by the placement of crowns on both molars, not to mention the emotional and physical toll of dealing with such dental trauma.
Legal Considerations:
Now, here’s where things get tricky. It’s clear that my orthodontist’s negligence led to the damage to my teeth. They failed to obtain clearance from my dentist before proceeding with the treatment, and they disregarded crucial information about the condition of my teeth. This raises serious questions about the standard of care provided by the orthodontist.
How to Proceed:
This experience has been extremely traumatic and sad for me. Has anyone faced a similar situation? Seeking advice on navigating the denial and addressing the dental damage.

Certain sounds and textures can trigger a physical reaction of something moving on my body, like a wood block rolling on my back when it's extremely unpleasant. It feels as if someone's slowly sanding down my teeth with fine strains of cotton, im being electrocuted, and It as if something is poking and moving on my back while applying preasure all simultaneously. It's not common for me to feel it that strongly but the sound of iron wool rubbing against teflon pans can cause my whole body to feel as if involuntary waves of electricity and pressure are all along my back and limbs to the point where this has caused me to vomit on multiple occasions. Some sounds tickle the back of my neck and all along my spine and in my chest. Extremely high-pitched sounds that are almost just barely outside of my normal hearing range feel as if something's scratching the inside of my skull. Assumed for the longest time that this is simply due to sensory overload because I have adhd and autism, but it's a consistent experience, so now im curious. Unpleasant sounds feel more unpleasant when I'm stressed, but certain sounds also feel good, like brown noise feels like I have a weighted blanket on me. The sound of sand falling in an hourglass feels like I'm being gently scratched (mostly on my upper back). The base in EDM music feels like waves of energy pulsating from the middle of my abdomen and spreading out to the rest of my body in an even manner, but if all the audio is only playing in one ear the waves feel stronger on that side. I spent a good portion of my life constantly playing music. One of the things that gives me the most enjoyment in life is just laying down and either listening to music or ambient noise and enjoying the sensation of energy moving throughout my nerves and my rib cage. One of the main things that triggers it is the sound of a refrigerator that makes me feel like something's prickling the back of my neck and the top of my head.

Since I caught a stomach bug in December, this is what has been happening to me:
-lost of weight from 130 to 119 lbs -increase in the frequency and urgency of bowel movements, especially in the afternoon after lunch -BMs sometimes solid, sometimes in little chunks, often with mucus, sometimes only mucus, sometimes only expelling transparent liquid. For the first time, I saw a big drop of red blood in the middle of mucus yesterday evening, which absolutely freaked me out -When I have very frequent BMs, sometimes I will get cramps and pain, which give me nausea, cut off my appetite and prevents me from eating. This happened maybe 4 times in the past month. -Increased level of anxiety -Appetite went really down in the past two weeks, especially in the past week -Since I saw that blood yesterday, full on very intense anxiety, whole butterfly in the stomach. I can't eat.
I saw a doctor today. She ordered a stool sample and a colonoscopy in semi-urgent priority, so in the next two months.
The prep terrifies me. My stomach gets upset very easily. And if I don't eat well enough in a day, I get dizzy and full of stomach acid, so I feel very bad, and after, it's very difficult to restart eating.
I told the doctor I was extremely worried and that all that made me anxious. I asked about cancer and IBD. She said it was possibilities and that's why she was ordering the tests. I've asked if it could be only my IBS acting out. She said usually no blood with IBS.
I'm a 40 yo male, weighting now only 119 lbs.
I am absolutely freaking out, completely terrified.

M23, white, europe, 5’10, 150 lbs, skinny, duration of complaint a year +.
My issue is lately neurological, started in June, tingling here and there, now suddenly eye pain every single day, Lhermitte sign, MRI of c spine was clear so it’s definitely brain related. Headache comes everyday, lasts for an hour, whenever I walk I feel as if my body is going up and down as if I’m on a trampoline.. had a brain MRI in march 2023 over a year ago and way before my issues, it was clear.
I wake up, go to work scared as shit come home scared as shit, smoke a cigarette to cope, cry, sleep and repeat. Worst symptom is the head ache and the bouncing up and down when walking but only happens inside.
Can anyone tell me if I truly had a brain tumor, could it have grown in a year so fast.. may God let my soul rest if that’s my case.
Also when I tap the back of my neck or head or even wrist, my leg buzzes, and worst part is if I tap the right side my left leg buzz and vice versa. Something is messed up.

I was advised to take Vitron-C by my provder and have been dealing with extreme stomach cramps, nausea, acid reflux, the whole gamut. Even waiting two hours after eating food still pains me.
I've read the recommendations on here for Slow Fe but I'm nervous about absorption. My ferritin level was a 4 last time I had labs (somewhat recently). I also can't afford Heme iron/other options because they're too pricey for me.
Would taking the Vitron-C with food (like meat/fish and not with grains, spinach or anything that would hinder absorption more) be a decent alternative?
I know that taking it on an empty stomach is ideal but I have too many GI issues to do that. Thanks in advance for any suggestions/anecdotes.

Two years ago, I had just moved to a new house from a different neighbourhood for work. I was settling in and getting used to the place, but I was still lonely and went through bouts of depression.
My ex-boyfriend of five years had ended the relationship a while before I moved, and I wasn't having much luck going on dates. I eventually decided to focus my energy into work and fitness instead, but the loneliness lingered. The house still felt empty at times, and the silence was painful. I went through the motions numbly as the days passed by.
About two months after I had moved in, I started noticed a stray dog pacing around my front yard from time to time. It had big, brown, sad eyes, and there was no collar around its neck. I couldn't tell you what breed it was - a reverse Google image search tells me it looks like an Indian Pariah dog. I could always recognize it, as its left eye was slightly larger and darker than the right, but that gave it some unique charm. After seeing it outside my front door for three days straight, I put up some posters along my street inviting anyone who might have lost a dog to call me. I quickly learned that I probably shouldn't have done that, after getting a few silent calls from an unknown number that I eventually chalked up to being a prankster or some scammer.
I called a local animal shelter and them pictures of the dog. A guy came over to scan the dog for a microchip, but found nothing. He said it was most likely abandoned as a puppy. He could take it back to the shelter, or I could look after it for the time being - they would contact me if anyone ever tried to claim it. My grandad had a german shepherd that I used to love playing with, so I always had a soft spot for dogs and agreed to look after it, even if it was for a while. The guy from the animal shelter advised that if I didn't hear back in a week, I should take it to the vet to get it checked out and microchipped, or to the shelter if I didn't want to keep it.
I took care of the dog and let it roam around the living room, with free access to the back yard. I decided to name him Charlie, and purchased more dog food, a labelled dog collar, some brushes to groom him with and dog toys. The nearest vet was a two hour drive away. Work was busy so I wasn't incredibly flexible for a visit, but I managed to get an appointment booked in two weeks' time.
The first night I spent with Charlie, I realized that he might just be what I needed in my life. Late in the evening, I sat on the couch looking at him, sitting quietly in the middle of the room on my wooden floor. I began talking out loud to Charlie. It seemed stupid at first, but the way he sat quietly and listened was comforting. After a while, I got more into it, and vented about my loneliness and frustrations to the point of tears.
How I stayed with my cheating, gaslighting ex-boyfriend because I was too insecure to be alone, until he dumped me. All my failed dates, and how I thought I would die alone and unloved. I poured my heart out to my new companion, spilling my deepest secrets until I cried myself to sleep. The next day, I again began talking to Charlie about the pain and depression I had been through, and he listened patiently once more. I discovered that spending time with my new friend was cathartic. Perhaps I needed to get it all out, and be listened to for once, even if not fully understood.
The third day after I had taken Charlie in, I woke up to realize that I'd overslept half an hour. I poured some food into Charlie's bowl and brushed my teeth at lightning speed, then grabbed my bag and flung the door open, ready to bolt into my car. A surprise greeted me at the front door, that made me stop.
There was a bouquet of red and pink roses on my front door step.
I picked it up and looked at it, confused. There was no note attached or anything. I couldn't think of who it would be from - I obviously hadn't been on any dates recently. Being late for work, I didn't have much time to ponder, so I dropped the roses back on my doorstep and drove off. During the drive, I panicked for a second at the thought that it could have been my ex, but then realized he didn't know my new address, or even that I had moved. The mystery bugged me all day at work. When I came back home, the roses were gone, so I assumed someone had accidentally left them at the wrong address.
That night, I woke to the sound of creaking. As I opened my eyes slightly, I saw something at the foot of my bed and bolted upright, adrenaline rushing through me. As the fogginess faded, my heart rate settled a little.
"It’s just you, Charlie," I sighed, "you scared me."
Charlie continued to stare at me from the foot of my bed. After a minute, he stood up and left the room. I didn't think much of it, and fell back asleep.
For the next week, I continued the usual ritual of talking to Charlie before I went to bed. I would talk about my day, my plans, hopes, dreams and other such things. I found our one way conversations getting more positive each day - they were very therapeutic. Charlie would always stare at me with those big brown eyes and sit quietly still as I talked.
On the morning of the vet appointment, for which I had taken the day off work, I noticed that my car was much cleaner than usual. Had it always been this shiny? I thought. I had driven it to work the Friday before, but I hadn't taken notice of how clean it was then. The last time I had, I could swear there were bird droppings on the back window, and some general grime that covered it all round, but it was now spotless. I pondered for a few seconds, and came to the conclusion that it must've just be a brain lapse on my part - it was probably always clean. Those droppings must have washed away over time with a few rainy nights.
I drove Charlie down to the vet and explained the story of how I'd found him.
"He's very well behaved," she beamed, as she began examining Charlie on the table. "We see a few of these cases from time to time. People's dogs have puppies, and they get sold or abandoned."
"It's a real shame," I sighed. "Charlie's been a star, I'm lucky to have him really. I live alone, so as odd as it sounds, I've been talking to him and it's helped me through some difficult moments."
"That's not strange at all," replied the vet, checking his teeth. "Owning a dog can do wonders for your mental health, especially if you live alo-"
She suddenly stopped.
I stared as she squinted and moved Charlie's head up and down, trying to get a look at something. She plucked a light out of her pocket and aimed it into Charlie's left eye.
"What's wrong?" I asked. She didn't answer, and kept looking at Charlie from different angles. He whimpered slightly.
"Did his eye look like this when you found him?" She asked. I leaned in closer.
"Yeah, I did notice his left eye was slightly darker and larger than his right."
She looked at me for a second and raised her eyebrows, then back at Charlie.
"I'd like to get a closer look at his eye and examine it in the next room, if that's okay?"
"Uh, sure," I said, confused.
Without further explanation, she hastily picked Charlie up and carried him off into a different room. I sat down and waited, reading the news on my phone, expecting her to be back in a few minutes. However, when the vet didn’t come back for a while, my concern began to grow. I paced around the room and tried to glance into the door she had left through a few times.
Then I sat back down and watched the minutes pass by, getting more anxious. Hopefully it's nothing, I thought to myself. An easily curable eye infection perhaps, or a defect he was born with - hopefully it was something like that or nothing. I'd only spent a few weeks with Charlie, but he was the best friend I'd ever had. I had told him so much about me, and he was the only one that had ever really listened to me. I had grown very attached to him quickly, so I almost felt like a worried parent, blaming myself for not bringing him to the vet sooner.
An hour and a half passed, but it felt like eternity. The vet finally came back through the door. I stood up.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
"Have you noticed any odd events recently?" she asked, "Like, anything you couldn't explain?"
"To do with Charlie?"
"No, just in general. Anything you've seen or heard around you that felt out of place in your life?" She insisted. I took a second to think.
"I'm pretty sure this isn't gonna be relevant," I said, "But I have a couple of times. For instance, this morning I thought my car was a lot cleaner than usual. I've been getting some unknown calls, and hearing some creaking noises at night lately, but I'm sure it's just Charlie walking around and waking me up. And… someone left roses on my front doorstep one day. Didn't say from who, but… Sorry, I'm not sure why I'm even telling you this."
I looked up at the vet, who now had a very concerned look on her face.
"I'm going to have to call the police," she said.
It took a few seconds to register. A million thoughts started racing through my mind. Did I say something wrong? Did she think I was abusing Charlie?
"I swear," I said, "Everything I've told you is true, I'm really sorry it took me so long to bring him in, it's my first time owning a dog and all…"
"No, no, it's not that," she said. She gestured for me to follow her into the room through the door.
Charlie was sitting on a table in the middle of the room. There were a few other tables surrounding it, with dog toys and surgical equipment on them. There was a large hole where his left eye had been, now a gaping black cavity.
The vet pointed at a sheet of blue paper on a table next to the one Charlie was on. There were two black domes resting on it, like two halves of a black ping pong ball had been split in half. A clear fluid was covering the outer sides, and staining the blue paper. There was also a tiny black cube. I looked closer, and saw some red and green wires coming out of the tube.
"I took this out of Charlie's left eye," the vet explained, "I thought my eyes were fooling me, but I took a closer look and was sure this thing definitely shouldn't have been in his head. When I took it out, I thought it was some kind of prosthetic eye, until I heard something moving inside it. I opened it up, and found this."
She pointed at the tiny cube and picked it up with some tweezers, revealing a transparent circular window on one side.
"Now I'm no expert, but I took that apart just now and to me it looked a lot like the inside of a camera lens you'd get on a smartphone."
She looked back at me.
"Do you think…" She paused.
"Do you think it's possible someone could have been watching you for the past few days?"
The police were eventually called and an investigation started. The tiny device inside Charlie's eye was indeed a camera lens with a built in audio recording device, and it had a wireless connection. It was an advanced piece of kit, but with some technical expertise they were able to examine its traffic logs and identify an IP address to which the miniature device was streaming.
That IP address belonged to my neighbor, who lived in the house opposite to mine.
I had never seen him leave the house before, although when I moved in I did see his silhouette in the top floor window a couple of times. He was a fifty five year old balding, slightly overweight man who worked as an engineer, but otherwise lived a reclusive lifestyle. I later found out that he had multiple restraining orders placed against him from ex partners. He had a collection of tiny bugging devices which he had been planting in various places including public women's bathrooms for years. These devices could livestream video and audio to his computer, and in his spare time he would watch and listen to this footage he collected.
A while before I moved into the house, he had purchased a puppy from someone he knew, and kept it as a pet without registering it. I assume he got bored of spying on women in bathroom stalls, and when he saw me move into the house opposite, he suddenly got a wild idea of how he could get a peek at something more intimate. The rest is some truly horrific history.
Charlie had been in my room while I slept and even a couple of times while I undressed. But worst of all, I had told him everything about me. The names of previous partners, things about my family, companies I had worked for and more. I wish I could say that I kept Charlie, but I just couldn't. Not after that. The vet arranged for him to be sent to the animal shelter where I'm glad to say he eventually did find a new home. I also relocated and changed my phone number.
For anyone out there wondering, I'm still single. The difference is that nowadays, I'm completely at peace with being alone. I've experienced a worse alternative, that's for sure.

For a couple years now I’ve been dealing with something odd in the front of my neck near my throat. It first started a couple years ago when I was trying to push something that had gotten stuck in my throat out. I was using the muscles in my throat to mimic the way your throat moves when you vomit or choke to do this. At some point, I felt something in my neck move, and suddenly I couldn’t swallow. It felt like a tendon or something similar had slipped over throat and it was painful to swallow and open my mouth. I panicked for a second and pulled at my neck until I could swallow and open my mouth without pain.
I didn’t think much of it until I got a cold later that year, and the same phenomenon occurred (though it was much less painful this time) again after I coughed. This time I was able to fix the issue by rolling my head to the left, but this has been happening ever since that first incident. I looked up neck anatomy and found that it was my sternocleidomastoid (SCM), a muscle that connects your jaw to your sternum and clavicle. I tried looking up SCM displacement but nothing matches my experience or symptoms. My best guess is that the muscle is no longer properly attached to my sternum or left collarbone, allowing it to slip out of place whenever I cough. But I can’t find anything that supports this, and the only thing that I can find suggests that my SCM is unilateral or bilateral, but if that were the case, wouldn’t it be happening on both sides?
Whatever this is doesn’t affect my quality of life or overall health, but it is painful and I would like to know if there’s some way to remedy it. If you have an answer or idea, or you have experienced something similar, please let me know.

So in their first season, it is mentioned SEVERAL times that Sophie comes from major family money and it’s the topic of many contentious conversations amongst she and Rob.
Does anyone believe this to be true? I’m not meaning to judge a book by its cover, but as someone who painstakingly pays extreme close attention to detail, all signs point to this being either a lie, or a produced storyline (I.e. also a lie).
From her fake Gucci bag, to her TERRIBLE wigs (why the hell does she wear them?), to her SHEIN clothing and horrible makeup, it’s just blatantly obvious. I’m not saying all people with money wear designer bags/clothes, etc. but there are other signs of wealth that this girl just does not exude. The way she holds herself, the way she talks, her mannerisms, all of it is just so blatantly obvious. Also, her mom’s home. In the first season there are a lot of scenes of sophie skyping her mom and you can tell that her mom’s home is a dump. It looks like she’s a hoarder and the place is falling apart at the seams. If her dad has money, fine, but I’d assume her mom got a little bit of that in a divorce/child support? I dont know, it’s just not adding up. And if it is in fact her dad who has money, she obviously never had access to it. I’m assuming if that’s the case- her mom and he separated when Sophie was very young and Sophie never lived with or had a relationship with her dad.
If there’s more to the story, like her dad was abusive and she emancipated herself from him to escape (speculation for example purposes) then I’d understand the “I have access to family money but I won’t touch it” but why even bring it up then if you’re not going to expand on that part of your life? I can understand it being a painful topic to discuss, but then maybe don’t bring it up at all because it makes that whole storyline seem distractingly fake.
Maybe Rob and Sophie consider rich to be someone who grew up in a home with a bathroom.

note - all pictures taken on the same day within a short timespan except for the profile shot, just wanted to show that lighting does make a big difference.
anyway some context… only 32F, always had a weak chin and bit of a double chin. My weight has yo-yo’d somewhat since I was 18, and I’m currently attempting to lose weight - 10 pounds down now, ideally 20-25 more to go. This issue with my neck popped up very rapidly and I’ve been fixated on it since. The crepeyness looks SO extreme sometimes and it ages me a LOT…
I have always worn sunscreen daily & taken my entire skincare routine all the way down my neck.
Not interested in doing resurfacing treatments like morpheus8, CO2 lasers, etc. because of the wishy washy overall experiences I’ve read people had with them online… scared of surgery but if it could help it’s the path I’d take, but as I’m mostly looking for improvements in skin tightness vs drastic reshaping of my jaw line I’m not sure if it’ll actually address the issue?
Essentially - only 32, but considering a neck lift to address how my skin is aging. Is this an avenue worth pursuing or are my expectations unrealistic?

I'm a freelance artist, which makes taxes a pain in the ass. This year I filed a bunch of different state taxes via 1099-NECs since I work remotely. Most clients don't do this, but some do, typically ones I work for regularly for. For one specific client from Texas (who I only worked with a single time- the company was extremely unprofessional), they never sent me any tax documents, and they paid me through Venmo, so I filed the Venmo income with my home state taxes instead since that's what I normally do.
Today, a month after Tax Day, the Texas client sent me a 1099-NEC. I'm unsure of what to do now, especially since I not only already claimed the income from them on taxes but it's also so late after Tax Day and I don't want to pay any penalty fees. What should I do? Is there someplace specific I should call to explain the situation? The Texas client never informed me of the 1099-NEC before today. Thanks in advance!

As title says, the ER I had went to missed a compression fracture in my spine.
I had fallen off of a horse when I went to get on and the trainer adjusted the girth harshly at the same time (for those who ride horses, you may know how much of a big no that is) and the horse bolted, so I had to let go of the saddle and landed on my left hip and my body twisted. Cue, extreme amounts of pain and nearly blacking out when I’d walk. I had went to the ER and got x rays, where they said I had a bone contusion (bruising of the bone basically).
Yeah, no. It wasn’t. For the past 2 months, I’ve been having major discomfort and sometimes pain in my lower back. I’ve continued to ride horses and it doesn’t hurt when I do, and I work at a hospital where half of my shifts is as a nursing assistant, so I’ve been lifting patients, walking for long periods of time, bending over, etc. I finally went to a provider about my back and got x rays done again, and there is a compression fracture. My provider called me right when she got the report and looked at them, saying to stop horse riding and to be extremely cautious until I can see an orthopedic as I should’ve been in a back brace and probably off duty from work to begin with to let it heal.
So that’s fun. Told my boss and he’s being a major ass over it, as if it was my fault. I didn’t know. I was told by medical professionals that none of my bones were fractured or broken. But it is funny because a woman who was a patient of mine when it happened, had a fracture missed in her hips by doctors and it caused chronic pain. I was so worried that would be me and something would be missed, just to find out I wasn’t wrong 😂
That’s it, I wanted to let it out and rant. I have to wait for an orthopedic and after all of this, I’ve begun to be more aware of just how much discomfort my lower back is in all the time. I should’ve gotten it checked sooner.

I have chronic neck pain. Some of it is mainly due to the fact that my posture is terrible (currently trying to work on it) but other times it’s because I curl into a ball when I sleep. I mean I will actively unconsciously avoid pillows and that sometimes means sleeping with my neck at a 90° angle. I’m not sure what to do. I’ve bought pillows specifically for my neck and I still avoid those. It may sound ridiculous but should I try sleeping with a neck brace?
My neck pains cause me to get terrible migraines at times and I want my neck to be straightened out.
Any advice would be greatly appreciated.

Everybody keeps saying that the new movie should be a Kong movie, and I do personally agree with this even though I like to see Godzilla, who seems to be a very long cameo in a movie that has his name written first. But that begs a question, hypothetically how'd you rewrite GxK to make it more like a Kong movie?
Mine is not the best, but I'll try my best.
The movie intro starts nearly the same, but remove all Godzilla scene, until the traps Kong set up collapsed, and Skar King emerged from the gap. Instead of destroying the outpost like he did in the movie, he'd try to lure Kong in the uncharted area without Monarch knowing. Then Kong ventures around, meets a Drownviper and almost gets incapacitated (doesn't make sense given that Kong killed it canonically), just before Kong gets drowned, Skar King takes the opportunity and swiftly saves Kong from the eel-like titan.
For Skar King, who is better be bigger and stronger than Kong, he should be extremely manipulative in an emotional sense, but the tyrannical sadistic side should be kept hidden until the big reveal. Kong, still too shocked and surprised to see a fellow species of his though he is a bit different, would immediately follow him around without any hesitation, who took him back to his kingdom. The red ape puts on a friendly facade and tells him that the Gojira species locked him and the apes up, thus, making Kong's already present dislike toward Godzilla grow.
When they get back to the kingdom, which doesn't contain Shimo like the movie did, Kong does express sadness after seeing how malnourished his species are, making his sympathy toward Skar King bigger. Here's a really stupid catch, prior to inviting Kong, Skar King basically becomes Kim Jong un and turns every ape into an NPC, which means actors. They'd act all scared and surround Kong, thus, fueling the big guy's remorse and empathy. The red ape would then introduce Kong to Suko, who'd later be Kong's companion and savior, and say that he could lead the apes to a better place, that's if he got the Hollow Earth energy with Kong's help. Wanting to free his people and the emotional manipulation from Skar, Kong instantly agrees without even noticing Suko's fearful expression.
Kong, Suko, Skar King and his armies set out to find the energy that could help the apes thrive. Along the way, Kong would notice Suko's anxiety around his own father but never question why. Nevertheless, the big guy would still bond over his nunchuck, and a montage of them skipping rocks on the lake and Kong teaching Suko how to properly throw a rock at someone's head (This might or might not be crucial). After reaching an unknown area, the whole scout manage to find a crystal that could help them control megafauna and even smaller titans (kinda like Shimo but wider range).
But upon acquiring the crystal, Suko suddenly snatches it from Kong's hand, and Skar King, along with his subordinates, laughs hysterically and says that Kong is a stupid moron. Skar King then reveals that he is the tyrant who caused the Titan War and starves the apes, and Kong realizes that the one who saves him was just power-hungry dictator. Confused, enraged and betrayed, Kong challenges him into a fight, and Skar King pulls out his whip, which then breaks Kong's rotten tooth. Kong does put up a good fight, but ultimately, he loses to Skar King's superior build and experience. Instead of chopping his head off with his axe, Suko says that throwing him off the cliff will do just find, and for once, Skar King agrees with his son. They take the axe and dump Kong's body over the cliff, but using his most powerful weapon ever (plot armor), he falls into a lake and survives but heavily injured.
He crawls back to Jia and Ilene, saying that he lost his home and people because of his stupidity and ignorance. Jia then tells him that she also lost her people and home and he will lose his species if he decides to do nothing. Kong gets motivated and is given a BEAST glove and instantly heads to Skar King's lair, where the tyrant is still flaunting his new piece of weapon that could help him rule the surface. When Kong arrives and once again challenges Skar King, who is surprised to see him but happy to accept the offer. With the BEAST glove, Kong clearly has the edge and sometimes grapples Skar and beats him up quite easily. Skar King spits out his tooth and tests his new toy, which attracts a bunch of Wart Dogs and Spineprowlers to attack Kong, who prevailed with minor injuries.
When Kong manages to pin Skar King down and chokes him, the tyrant swallows his pride and orders his subordinates to jump Kong all at once. The other apes hopelessly watch as Kong, despite being the strongest specimen of his species, can't fight all of the stripped apes. Even though one punch from his BEAST glove can put them to sleep, it's too much for Kong to manage, and eventually, he succumbs but still keep fighting. This desperate act seems to motivate the starved apes, but they don't have the courage to stand against them, but then, Suko, and Doug as his battle horse, roars as he throws rocks at his father's head. A small act of retaliation sparks a flame, and the apes all rush down to help Kong fight the Skar King and his armies.
Kong is then released and faces Skar King again, who is now more pissed off and swears that he'll kill every traitor when this is over. After a short fight in the arena, Kong and Skar King would then stop to catch a breath before continuing. Of course, Skar King notices the weakest Kong, Gnarled Finger, sneaking up on him, and he smiles before kicking the ape into the lava. Suko witnesses this and cries out in agony, and Kong, enraged, charges forward and goes all feral.
The final battle ends up with Kong prevailing and having Skar King at his mercy. Just as before Kong drops him into the lava like he did to Gnarled Finger, our protagonist chooses to spare him, but not without any consequences. Skar King, now utterly defeated and humiliated, and his army were now banished from his own kingdom by an outsider. He swears revenge and desire to take over the world, but Kong doesn't give a shit about his trash talking and throws the crystal into the lava, destroying it. The movie ends with Kong doing a victory roar along with his apes, and the our big guy is crowned King Kong.
The after-credit begins with a roar, and a broken crystal is dropped to the ground. Skar King, still could not let go of his revenge of both Kong and Godzilla, sadistically smiles as he grabs the crystal, and a roar of pain can be heard from a cave that seems to have two glowing blue eyes.
Yeah, not the best plot but that's all I can come up with. I'd have liked it more if Skar King was more of a threat instead of Shimo since he was hyped up so much. We heard the word 'hunger' in the reveal video, but in the film, he only ate once. No cannibalism, no eating Gojira, just... some Hollow Earth creatures. Ngl, I kinda hate it when the novel confirms that Kong could kill Skar King. Well, I hope that they release some comic about the Titan War, which could give us insight more about Skar King and his past.

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".

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.

My partner and I have had a tumultuous up and down on and off relationship over the past decade. Oftentimes I feel like we are just not compatible and I can’t give him the affection or attention he requires. I do genuinely love and care for him, but he completely overwhelms me and I try to take it until I inevitably freak out. An example of this is repeatedly getting in my physical space, constant groping and slapping of my breasts, groin, and bum in a way that hurts, tickling, poking me in the neck painfully, distracting me while I’m trying to do things like prepare dinner or while I’m working, purposefully irritating me, jump scaring me when I’m immersed in something (I work from home so it’s frequently while I’m at the computer focused) and then getting upset with me when I ask him (repeatedly) to stop. I don’t like a lot of physical contact. I don’t mind cuddling and intimacy and what not but I don’t enjoy having my body parts pulled and hit, and I LOATHE tickling. I’ve told him it feels like a physical violation, and explained this multiple times but he says it’s just how he shows affection.
We have a very active intimate life, at least once per day. Usually in the morning and in the evening. So he is getting plenty of that type of affection which he states is the most important to him.
Lately he’s started recording me as I go about my day to day tasks like cleaning or whatever, and I’ve noticed he’s started recording me during intimate moments as well which I object to and push the camera away. I told him I don’t like that, it makes me feel weird. He keeps trying to show me the videos which also makes me mad cause I didn’t agree to that. He says he just thinks I’m beautiful, but I feel like….something nefarious about it in my gut.
I’m feeling extremely physically violated. I have a hard time expressing my feelings, and to be honest I don’t have an easy time even feeling anything. Like period. But I get angry and resentful and it just kind of simmers until it spills over.
This has become a pattern where I get more and more overwhelmed, then I act out in some way and it causes a huge fight. He berates me and screams at me and leaves, refusing to speak to me for days. Usually about 1 week. I am not innocent in this, because I usually do something he hates. In the moment I don’t realize this and it’s always afterwards with self reflection I can see it. I can’t seem to get ahead of the build up, or maybe I try to but I’m not effectively communicating how annoyed and overwhelmed I am. I always feel so bad after. I feel so stupid and emotionally incompetent.
We got into an argument yesterday and I’m realizing this is such a pattern. My cat got hurt and my brother came with me to take him to the vet. My partner flipped out on me so bad for going with my brother. He accused me of hanging out with guys and was acting like I made the whole thing up. Called me a liar. I messaged him with an update on the cat and he didn’t reply. I will add, I don’t ever hang out with men that aren’t blood related to me. Meaning my little brother and my father. I have exclusively female friends. I find this accusation particularly offensive, because it makes me think that he’s the one off spending time with other women if that’s his knee jerk response to me asking for some emotional support while my pet is injured. My brother doesn’t like him so I suppose that could be it.
I feel so disconnected from my feelings and my body. I’m logically trying to figure this out. Am I imagining things? Is the way he’s constantly in my physical space normal? Is it wrong for me to ask for space and have that respected? Am I a bad partner for not giving enough?
Just needed to get that off my chest. I don’t feel comfortable speaking to my friends and family due to our complicated history.