You sit shoulder to shoulder in the auditorium. Your scratchy black suit rubs against two arms wrapped in finer material. You shift in your seat, moving uncomfortably in the plush chair beneath you. Your leg is shaking; you are anxious for the show to begin. The massive room rumbles with murmurs of conversation—inquisitions about how the show will be, complaints of hunger, protests of too-tight clothing, and ties choking necks. You are silent.
September 6, 1981
Louise trudged up the dusty gravel path towards her home, a rotted trailer perched atop a steep hill. The bus driver never ventured up the path, leaving Louise to trek the quarter mile herself. She stopped momentarily and watched as the yellow bus sped away; the shadow of a lone hand waved her goodbye. She waved back, too late for anyone to see it, “Bye, Miles.”
Her house stank of cigarette smoke. The soft shag carpet collected to odor, spitting it out with every step. The windows and walls were yellowed with nicotine. The trailer was quiet; the constant droning of the radiator was the only thing to be heard. Louise set her backpack down and walked into the kitchen to make herself dinner. Her mother wouldn’t be home for several hours, and school lunch was never enough.
After Louise ate a measly bowl of microwaved leftover Kraft, she sat down to do her homework. She pulled out the math sheet they had gotten that day. Numbers shifted and combined; they peeled off the page and swam around her. Louise needed help. She dialed a number she knew by heart. The line rang.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice answered, her voice slightly distorted through the phone.
“Hi, Mrs. Wilson,” Louise said in a timid voice.
“Hi, Louise,” Mrs. Wilson’s voice softened, “I’ll get him for you.”
Louise heard her muffled yell, “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Hey Louise! What’s up?” a boy's voice asked.
“Hi, Miles. Have you done your math homework?”
“I’m doing it right now.”
Louise stretched the cord to where she sat at the table, “Great.”
The lights dim, and silence washes over the crowd. The curtains part. Fifty people in tuxedos sit on stage, various instruments in hand. The conductor stands tall. He introduces the orchestra, lifts his gloved hands, and the music begins.
March 9, 1983
“You’re still coming, right?” Miles questioned nervously.
“Yes, Miles, I’m still coming,” Louise rolled her eyes before smiling at him.
Miles relaxed a little bit, “Okay, good.”
Miles had mousy brown hair that was cut short. His dad had served in the military, so he thought this boy should have a ‘man’s haircut.’ He was tan even in the wintertime. He had bright hazel eyes that glowed electric green in the sunlight. Louise was about an inch taller than Miles, a fact she was immensely proud of.
The pair walked down the school hallway. It was Friday. Wonderful, glorious Friday. Louise rejoiced in the days that she didn’t have to come into school and pretend she liked people— pretend she liked anything, really. She hated the teachers, her peers, the hospital grey of the walls. She liked Miles. He ignored the cigarette stink of her clothes and the rudeness of her tone.
Today was Miles’ birthday. He’ll be ten. Miles had invited everyone to the party; there would be a bounce house. He’s ‘going all out for the big one o’ as he kept telling Louise. She was nervous about the party; her gift was okay at best, and she dreaded the disappointed but polite smile she knew Miles would pull.
“My mom will be here right after school to pick us up. You know what my mom’s car looks like, right?” Miles asked.
“Yeah, I remember.”
Lousie walked out to Mrs. Wilson’s car, a sleek, silver Porsche; Louise felt like a celebrity when she rode in it—rich and important.
“Hi, Louise,” Mrs. Wilson smiled, “How was school?”
“Hi, Mrs. Wilson. It was good.”
Louise settled into the plush leather seats and set her backpack in front of her. They sat in silence for a moment, the soft drum of the radio filling the air. Miles ripped open the door, excitement lighting up his face. He sat down, his position mirroring Louise’s.
“Hey, buddy. How was your day?” Mrs. Wilson asked.
“It was great, Mom,” he smiled.
She smiled back warmly, “Well, that’s good.”
Mrs. Wilson pulled out of the parking lot, Louise and Miles chatted idly about school and the party. After a short while, they pulled up to Miles’ house—a two-story white house with columns in front. Louise loved it. Sometimes, during sleepovers, late at night, she pretended it was hers. She quietly walked down hallways, running her fingertips across the smooth wallpaper. She felt the soft carpet on her bare toes and imagined it knew the shape and weight of her foot. She opened the fridge and pretended not to be surprised at the selection of food that awaited her. Then, she would return to Miles’ room and lie down next to him in the sleeping bag he lent her, stare up at the tiny glowing stars stuck on his ceiling, and pretend it was her and her mom that put them up— that it was her mom that held the step stool for her so she wouldn't fall.
Louise and Miles hopped out of the car, ran up to his room, and plopped their bags down. They still had a few hours before their other classmates would arrive. They sat on the ground and leaned against the bed. Louise pulled out Miles’ gift from her bag and handed the small gift bag to him, “Happy Birthday.”
“It’s not time for the party,” Miles said, confusion evident in his voice.
Louise shrugged, “I wanted to give it to you now.”
Miles smiled at her before gently taking the tissue paper out of the bag and reaching in. He pulled out a light blue paper swan. Lousie had spent hours getting the folds just right so the paper was sharp instead of rumpled. It was beautiful.
“Louise,” Miles started, his face curved into a slight frown, like he was about to cry, “Thank you.”
“Do you really like it?” Louise asked nervously; she fidgeted with her fingernails.
Miles set the swan down gently and dove towards her, wrapping her in a hug, “I love it.”
The party was a hit. Louise nearly made herself sick from the combination of an ungodly amount of candy and jumping in the bounce house. Almost everyone from their class was there, shoving presents in Miles’ hands before running to the snacks and entertainment. Night fell, and Louise climbed in the Porsche again, though it was just her and Mrs. Wilson this time.
“Did you have a good time, Louise?” she asked, making eye contact through the rearview mirror.
“Yeah, it was awesome. Thank you for having me,” Louise responded, polite as ever.
“Oh, you are always welcome, sweetie,” Mrs. Wilson smiled.
Louise looked out the window for the rest of the drive, the stars blurring against the black night sky. They pulled up to Louise’s house; her driveway was empty.
“Are you sure you are okay until your mom gets here?” Mrs. Wilson asked.
Louise smiled fakely, “Yeah I’ll be alright. She should be home soon.”
“Okay, sweetheart.”
Louise climbed out of the car and walked to her door. She looked back before stepping inside—Mrs. Wilson’s face was a mirage of pity and sympathy. Louise waved and stepped inside, choking down guilt as she did.
The sweet sound of a violin fills your ears—a lone instrument bellowing a quiet tune. It starts slow—soft, like a warm hand caressing your face, a mother wiping away your tears.
You forget yourself for a moment; you are back in your childhood home, where your bed is indented with your shape. You smell your favorite meal being cooked downstairs. You hear your mother humming her favorite song from the kitchen. Your father isn’t home yet. You are excited to see him.
You wish it were real.
It is not.
June 11, 1984
Louise was having a terrible day. Her mother was off work and slumming around the house— she was like a ghost in her own home, and she had nothing to do. They didn’t have cable this month, so Louise’s options were to sit in her bed and do nothing or visit Miles. She chose the latter. Louise bid her mom a short goodbye, telling her where she was going and not much else, and peddled off on her bike. She was drenched by the time she arrived at Miles’ house. So she ditched her bike in the grass and ran to ring the doorbell. Mrs. Wilson answered.
“Oh. Hello, Louise,” she smiled.
Mrs. Wilson was a nice woman, and Louise absolutely loved her. She was as thin as a twig but had a motherly warmth about her that Louise itched for. Miles was the spitting image of her, matching her tanned skin and bright eyes.
“I’m afraid Miles isn’t here,” she continued.
“Oh,” Louise said, disappointment swirling around her tongue.
“I’m sorry, hun,” Mrs. Wilson gave her a sympathetic look, “He’s out with his dad fishing for the day.”
“That’s okay,” Louise lied and started to walk back to where she abandoned her bike.
“Wait a second, sweetheart,” she called, “Do you want some lemonade? I’d hate to just send you home after you rode all this way.”
“Sure, Mrs. Wilson. Thank you.”
Louise followed her into the kitchen and sat down at one of the barstools to wait. It wasn’t long before she had a nice tall glass of lemonade in front of her and a bag of chips in her hand.
“You can go watch TV if you want,” Mrs. Wilson smiled at her, “I’ll be out in the garden if you ever need anything.”
“Okay, thank you,” Louise said.
She wandered into the living room, and the plush carpet under her feet felt amazing. She flicked on the television and turned it to her favorite cartoon station. She did feel strange behaving like she lived there, especially when the house was empty, but her desire to relax in the air conditioning trumped the feeling. She mindlessly watched Jerry outsmart Tom in the comfort of a home that wasn’t her’s.
Louise finished her snack but didn’t feel like returning home; she knew her mother would be there, heating the house with cigarettes and sex. Mary had moved on from Steve quickly. So, she laid down and continued watching television. At some point, she fell asleep. Louise woke up to the soft voices of Miles’ parents talking in the kitchen. Someone had turned the TV off and taken her dishes. She could hear the shower running upstairs. Louise had no idea what time it was; the sun was now visible in the living room windows, the sky was orange. She was about to get up and ask Mrs. Wilson when she heard her name. Miles’ parents were talking about her. She got up as quietly as she could and snuck closer to the swinging kitchen door.
“Is there something we can do?” Mrs. Wilson asked her husband in a concerned tone.
“I don’t think so, Jenny,” Mr. Wilson responded, “She just has a hard life, that’s all.”
“I feel like we should do more for her.”
Mr. Wilson sighed, “We can only help her when she’s here. You know what Mary thinks about handouts.”
“Oh, poor Mary,” Mrs. Wilson said, her tone sympathetic, “I should call her and tell her Louise is gonna stay the night.”
Louise heard footsteps sound in her direction. She ran as softly as she could back to her position on the couch, feigning sleep. Mrs. Wilson swung open the door and picked up the phone that hung on the wall next to it. Louise heard the click-clack of buttons being pressed, the muffled ringing, and then her mother’s voice on the other line.
“Hey, Mary,” Mrs. Wilson said, “Is it alright if Louise stays here tonight? She passed out on the couch and I don’t think it’d be smart to have her ride home now.”
Lousie couldn’t hear her mother's exact words, but she must have said it was fine because the next thing Louise knew, she was being picked up and carried up the stairs. Mrs. Wilson set her down in a room she was unfamiliar with. She figured it was the guest room. Mrs. Wilson kissed Louise gently on her forehead and told her goodnight in a whispered tone. Louise missed her mother.
The room was bird-themed. The walls were painted a dark navy, and a thin metal peacock stared at her from where it hung. A copy of the NATO phonetic alphabet was hanging, too. It must have been Miles’ old room. Louise remembered when he came to school in second grade and told her he was moving into the attic. There was an opening to the roof up there, and Miles was in love with the idea of sitting up there and watching the sun set and rise.
Miles was in love with a lot when he was little— the sun and sky, the warmth of his mother’s hugs, iced tea on a hot day. Louise didn’t think she was in love with anything. She didn’t think she ever would be. Louise was almost asleep, the plush, silky sheets lulling her into another bout of slumber. Her door squeaked open. Miles’ small frame was a shadow in the doorway. He looked so small. He didn’t walk into the room, choosing to loom in the entrance.
“Goodnight, Louise,” he said in a small voice.
“Goodnight, Miles.”
When you were little, you thought everything was perfect. The world was alive with hope and magic. Everyone got along, and there was nothing wrong.
Of course, now you know that is not true. But a part of you, a little tiny part, wants to go back to when you didn’t know. When life was good, and you didn’t know better.
That’s how the music sounds. Like you are an innocent kid sitting on the front porch eating a red cherry popsicle. The juice runs down your face. It looks like blood.
July 15, 1984
Louise was once again sitting in the back seat of the Wilsons’ Porsche, but this time, she was without a backpack-- sans her school clothes. She wore the itchy Easter dress her grandmother had gotten her two years prior. Louise wore it to her funeral. She stuck out like a sore thumb, a pastel beacon amongst the waves of black. It was Sunday—the Lord’s Day, as Mrs. Wilson had told her. Louise hadn’t been inside a church for a good reason—she’d never been to a regular Sunday mass. But last night, she had stayed the night at Miles’, so she was on her way to church. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
They pulled into the parking lot, the ancient steeple looming over the car. Louise could recognize that it was a beautiful church, but the body of Christ hanging in the stained glass window did nothing to settle her nervous stomach. The pop of car doors sounded; there was no going back.
The wooden pew was uncomfortable, the kneelers even more so. She listened to Miles’ soft whispers of direction and did as he said. She fell and rose when she should; she crossed her arms instead of taking communion, she shook hands with strangers, and mumbled, ‘Peace be with you.’ And then it was over, and Louise was waking back to the car, her white flats cutting into her feet.
“What did you think, Louise?” Mrs. Wilson asked in a kind voice.
She shrugged her shoulders, “It was okay. I didn’t really know what to do.”
“You’ll learn,” Mrs. Wilson responded, a promise on the tip of her tongue.
Louise was silent on the ride back; she leaned against the window and watched as trees blurred together in a mirage of green. Louise didn’t know what it was like to believe in God. She thought she felt it there for a moment-- a quiet tingling in the back of her mind. But then she remembered that she wasn’t with her family; the Wilsons were not her parents. She remembered her mom was working a double today so they could have electricity. And what God would think that was fair? Not one Louise wanted to believe in.
The music sounds like the church hymns your mother made you sing. She meant well; she thought she was giving you the gift of her religion. You couldn’t tell her you didn’t want it. It was all she had ever known.
What child betrays their mother?
May 21, 1985
It was the summer after sixth grade. Lousie and Miles had biked to the pool in town, a desperate attempt to escape the heat. The air was thick and humid, and sweat sprouted from Louise's skin, dampening her shirt and shorts. The sun beamed down on her back; there wasn’t a cloud in sight. The pair parked their bikes out front and ran into the small building. A bored-looking teenager accepted their fifty cents each and let them in. The air reeked of chlorine, and the painted concrete was slick with warm water. Miles and Louise threw their towels down and began to shed their swimsuits. Louise’s hands were shaking with anticipation; she hadn't been to the pool in so long.
“Race you,” Miles said, darting towards the water's edge.
“No fair,” Louise groaned as she kicked off her flip-flops and ran after him.
Louise heard a distant whistle ringing and a call that running wasn’t allowed before she splashed into the blue depths. The cool water encapsulated her, and goosebumps formed on her skin. She bobbed to the surface and saw Miles climbing out and heading towards the diving board.
They stayed until the sun was beginning to set; Miles’ mom didn’t like him being out that late on his own yet, so they peddled back home soggy clothes and pruny skin.
When Louise returned to her house, it was dark. She could see the kitchen light shining out onto the brown lawn. Steve was home. Louise’s mom, Mary, had picked him up a few months back. He was a short, fat man. His breath always smelled like beer, yeasty and vile. He had dark hair and a beard to match. Her mother claimed she really liked him, but Louise knew she just needed someone to help pay the bills.
One of the few good things about having kids as young as Louise’s mom had her is that she never had a hard time finding a sleazy older guy to keep around. Being pretty also helped, and Mary sure was pretty. Mary was tall and slender, with long, curly auburn hair. She was covered in freckles and had eyes that glowed emerald green. When Louise was young, Mary would smile often, but as her eyebags grew, her smile faded. She could fake it when needed, but it was never like Louise remembered.
Mary and Louise could have been twins— minus the smile lines she didn’t think she’d ever have the chance to earn. Maybe that was why, when Louise walked into her kitchen in nothing more than a bathing suit, Steve forced himself on her.
You clutch the armrest on your chair, digging your nails into the fabric. The music is screeching, a distorted version of what it once was. You want to cry. You think your ears are bleeding. You bite the inside of your cheek, hoping to distract yourself from the perverted disgust mess of noise assaulting you. Your mouth tastes like metal. The urge to stand and walk, no, run, out of the theater is so strong you can hardly bear it.
You do not get up.
May 22, 1985
Miles called and asked if she wanted to go swimming again. Louise didn’t have the heart to tell him she never wanted to go swimming again, so she lied and said she was sick. Miles was at her door an hour later with a container of homemade cookies and Guess Who.
The two sit on the floor of Louise’s bedroom, the soft blanket she put down covering the scratchy carpet. Louise’s room was small and dingy. The walls were cracked and stained; she lived out of one small bureau that had been unceremoniously shoved into a corner of the room. Last Christmas, she begged her mother to help her hang lights on the ceiling. They were still up, casting a rainbow glow over the room. It was the only source of light she used. She had a small nightstand piled with pencils and markers; she had long since stained her light pink sheets while drawing. Cookie crumbles littered the floor. Louise was losing the game; most of her people were still up, while Miles only had about five people left to choose from. He chewed his lip in concentration. Louise usually laughed at him for it; he always seemed to take the board games they played too seriously. This time, she didn’t notice he was doing it.
“Does your person have brown hair?” Miles questioned.
Louise didn’t respond. “Louise? Are you alrigh—”
“Do your parents ever touch you?” Louise said, eyes trained on the floor.
Miles’ face scrunched up in confusion, “You mean like hugs?”
“No.”
“What do you mean then?” Miles questioned.
Louise’s eyes fogged up with tears, “Never mind. Let’s just play the game.”
Miles eyed her with sympathetic confusion before realizing what she meant, “Louise…”
He moved to hug her, but she flinched away from him. Miles sat back; he wasn’t touching her but was close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off of him. Louise sniffled, trying desperately to contain her emotion.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Miles whispered.
Louise turned to look at him, her face pale and puffy, “Please don’t.”
Louise and Miles sat like that for a long time. When the sun set, he got up and called his mom, begging her to let him stay the night. Louise didn’t hear the conversation, but Mrs. Wilson must have agreed because the next thing she knew, she was being guided to bed, and Miles was settled on the floor next to her, leaning against the bed and holding her hand.
The music turned sweet. It drifted through your ears pleasantly, passing over the cracked, dry blood. A chorus of flutes is playing, light and soft.
It feels like the pillow in your dorm room, childhood mixed with freedom.
You know this feeling won’t last. But right now, in this moment, you lay your head down and pretend the world is new.
May 17, 1986
Miles and Louise had biked miles to the movie theater. Miles had begged Louise to see the new movie coming out, one that Louise was less than excited about. He had been to the movies some months before with his mom and had seen the trailer. The next day, he begged her to see it with him when it came out, and she agreed, not knowing anything about it.
Miles was practically giddy with excitement. His eyes glowed with it. The theater was packed; they stood in the line shoulder to shoulder with what must have been every other kid in town. Louise clung to the red crushed velvet rope that segmented the line for dear life. The feeling of so many people pressed up against her was nauseating. She screwed her eyes shut, pushing down a wave of oncoming dizziness. Before she knew it she was being pulled along to the ticket stand. Miles produced them with a broad smile on his face, “Two for Top Gun.”
He then bought a giant thing of buttery popcorn and two glass Cokes. They made their way to their seats and waited for the movie to begin. Miles shoved popcorn in his mouth, salty yellow kernels going everywhere. Trailers for various movies played on the big screen— Miles leaned over nearly every time and asked Louise if she would go with him. She said yes every time.
The movie was beautiful. It was nothing like Louise had ever seen before; it made her yearn for the sky, the feeling of freedom unlike anything she would ever know. And then it was tragic, and she was crying in her seat, wailing over someone she didn’t know. Begging him to wake up.
They left in silence, walking to the bike rack to a chorus of shoes against pavement. They stalled for a moment before getting onto their bikes and parting their ways.
“What would you do if I died?” Miles said, his eyes trained on Louise’s.
“I don’t know,” her eyes were red and puffy, “I don’t think I could go on.”
“Me neither,” Miles agreed.
Miles stared at her for a beat before getting on his bike and peddling home. Louise imagined her life without Miles on the way home. Sharp metal against skin, blood seeping into water. She didn’t think it would be much of a life.
When you were in 6th grade, you played the clarinet. You always had a fondness for them.
They were the only ones playing, the dulcet tones of a wooden reed against black plastic. The song was picking up pace, like a heartbeat.
In 6th grade band, you sat next to a girl you liked. She was better at the instrument than you. You didn’t care. You remember taking her to the winter formal and carrying her shoes when her feet got sore. You remember your dad giving you the talk before you went.
You haven’t seen her in years. You wonder how she’s doing.
The clarinets are done with their solo. You forget about her again.
August 21, 1987
This year, Louise’s birthday fell on the first day of school. She dressed nicer than usual, an attempt at vanity that made her hate herself. Miles had given her a music box that played You Are My Sunshine. Louise had told him that she missed it when her mom sang it to her before bed. She cried in the bathroom.
At lunch, she stood in line with a group of girls in her PE class. Miles was a few feet ahead of her, and the kids in her school took cutting in line more seriously than she thought was necessary, so she stayed put. She stood silently while the girls talked about a teacher they didn’t like, choosing instead to eavesdrop on the conversations around her rather than contribute to the one she was in.
Brian Miller’s voice sounded broken and raspy, like a kid with money for cigarettes and not much else. He was a stereotypical bully, big and tall, with an ugly look plastered everywhere he went. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone not being in pain. He was talking to Miles, his voice loud enough for Louise to hear from where she was: “Why do you hang out with that poor girl all the time? Does she give it up easily?”
His lips were curled in a cruel sneer, showing off his yellow teeth. Miles looked at him, barely visible to Louise over the people between them. Then, suddenly, he wound up and punched Brian square in the face. Louise heard the crunch of his nose being broken— blood spurted on the floor and onto the onlooking students. Brian grunted in pain, bringing his hand to touch his bloodied face slowly before launching into a vicious returning attack. He only got a few punches on Miles before the nearest teacher pulled him away. Louise pushed through the crowd that had formed, leaning down at Miles’ side. His face was nearly unrecognizable; bruises were starting to form already.
“Why did you do that? Oh my god, Miles, why did you do that?” Louise choked out, tears fogging her vision.
“I love you,” Miles tried to smile, blood staining his teeth.
A teacher pushed Louise out of the way, assessing the damage. What felt like seconds later, an ambulance appeared, along with Mrs. Wilson. She was frantic; her hands were shaking with fear. Everything was silent. At some point, everyone had cleared out except Louise. She was standing here like an idiot, staring at Miles’ bloodied face.
Louise felt a strong hand grab her arm, a mother’s hand, “Come on, Louise. You can ride along.” Mrs. Wilson stood in front of Louise. Her eyes were red, but she had composed herself. Louise’s voice came out as nothing more than a whisper: “Okay.”
She let herself be pulled into the ambulance; the siren was the only thing she could hear. She watched as the EMTs worked, their skilled, gloved hands dancing over his body.
“Louise, he’s gonna be okay,” Mrs. Wilson whispered in her ear, “Come here.”
She pulled Louise into a hug, hiding her view of Miles. Louise closed her eyes against Mrs. Wilson, willing her breath to slow. They stopped abruptly at the hospital. Louise and Mrs. Wilson climbed out and watched as nurses and interns swarmed Miles’ gurney. They were ushered to the waiting room and sat down on hard, terribly patterned chairs. At some point, Mrs. Wilson called Louise’s mother to tell her where she was. A doctor brought them to Miles’ room after over an hour. His face had been cleaned and bandaged, and his nose was clearly broken.
“Louise,” Miles said, his eyes lighting up.
“Miles,” Louise responded, “Are you okay?”
“I’m right as rain,” he tried to smile but winced.
“Don’t lie to me, Miles.”
“I’ll be okay,” he reassured her, reaching up to squeeze her hand.
They stood like that until Louise’s mom came to get her. Louise crawled into Mary’s beat-up Sedan and slumped in the seat.
“Are you okay, baby?” Mary asked her.
“Mom, what if he died?” Louise ignored the question.
Mary sighed, “Sweetheart he’s fine. He’s just got a concussion and a broken nose.”
“I know,” Louise said, “I know he’s fine.”
The bags under Mary’s eyes seemed heavier today, and her face seemed more wrinkled. Louise looked more like her every day.
The music takes on a somber tone. Long, drawn-out notes fill the air. You think of your mother again, the way she looked sunken in her hospital bed— decaying before your eyes. You remember the feel of her bony, pale hands wiping away your tears in her final moments.
It was the first time you saw your dad cry.
The wail of violin chokes you.
December 17, 1988
Louise was lying on her back in Miles’ bed. He’s had the same one since they were kids; the box springs creak under their weight. Miles was above her, his eyes boring holes in hers. His parents were not home, the house was eerily quiet— the ambient creaking distracting Louise. His record player sang sweet music from his desk. His room was cluttered with dirty clothes and various knick-knacks. A blue paper swan sat on his bookshelf next to his worn copy of The Hobbit. His closet was open, casting weird shadows along the walls. The lights were off.
The soft touch of Miles’ lips trailed down her chest to her stomach. She tried to push down the nausea— make her body stop squirming. Her hand clutched his shoulder tightly. He had asked if this was okay. She had said yes.
Louise felt another article of clothing being slid off her body. She was cold. Her eyes shot to the ceiling. One glowing star was still stuck on the popcorn texture. Miles had taken them off the year before. He had missed one. Louise felt the heat of salty water run down her face into the soft pillow. She hated herself.
‘Dear God,’ she thought, ‘if you can hear me please, please just let me be okay. Let me want this.’
She didn’t receive a response. God wasn’t listening. It was just her and Miles in a house too big, in a world too small.
“Louise?” Miles said, his voice laced with concern, “Hey. Are you okay?”
All she could muster was an ‘I’m sorry’ before getting up, running into the bathroom, and emptying her stomach into the toilet.
The air stunk of sour yeast.
The music bounced up and down, building up to its crescendo. Excitement filled your chest, the entire orchestra almost all playing now.
A chorus of brass filled the air—French horns and trumpets battle for dominance on stage. Your eyes are wide in anticipation; you have waited the entire night for this.
You are sixteen, and you and your friends sit around a fire, passing a bottle of Jack around. It is the Friday before school starts. You wanted one last night of summer fun before your life filled with books and assignments.
The whiskey burns a path down your throat. It makes you nauseous. You get so drunk you can’t stand up. Your vision blurs as you stumble into the surrounding woods. You are alone. You vomit more than you thought was possible. You think you are going to die. You miss your mom.
You haven't drank since.
You don’t think you ever will.
August 4, 1989
The granite bar was cool under Louise’s fingertips. She sat in Miles’ kitchen, spinning nervously on the metal bar stool. She was chewing her lip; her mouth tasted like blood. Miles sat next to her, his demeanor the exact opposite of Louise’s.
“I mean, come on, Louise. What are you gonna do with your life?” Mrs. Wilson lectured her.
“I don’t know,” Louise mumbled.
Mrs. Wilson sighed, “Miles has wanted to be a pilot since he was eight. What do you want?”
Louise took a deep breath, “I don’t know. I’m sorry I can’t be like Miles. But I’m not your fucking kid so leave me alone.”
Louise stood up and stomped up the stairs. She heard Mrs. Wilson yelling her name, but she didn’t turn around. She buried herself in Miles’ bed, wrapping herself in his soft comforter. Louis heard the stairs creak with weight and then a knock on the door.
“Louise, I’m sorry,” Miles said, walking into the room.
Louise sat up, her face dry, “Why are you sorry? You didn’t yell at me.”
“I still feel sorry,” he said as he sat down next to her.
Louise took a deep breath and leaned on his shoulder. Miles rested his head against hers, “She loves you, you know.”
“I know.”
“She just wants you to do well,” Miles said.
“She wants me to be better than my mother,” Louise corrected.
“Is that so bad?”
The music doesn’t matter right now. You are fifteen, and your father is yelling at you about your future. You don’t know what you want to do. You want to be better than him.
He backhands you.
The arm of the person next to you brushes against yours. You jump. The conductor's hands are blurry with movement. The theater is alive with sound.
You miss your dad.
February 14, 1990
Louise and Miles sat across from each other in a restaurant that was too nice for the amount of money they brought. Louise ran her fingers across the laminated menu, fidgeting nervously with the edge of the paper. The restaurant was packed, Miles had made the reservations months in advance.
“Do you know what you want?” Miles asked.
Louise pursed her lips, “I think I’m gonna get the chicken piccata.”
Miles eyed the menu, “That looks good.”
“What are you gonna get?” she returned the question.
Miles smiled, almost boyishly, “The steak.”
Louise hummed in response. She set her menu down and reached for her water glass, running her finger across the rim. Condensation dripped down outside the glass, her fingerprints marking the surface.
“Are you excited about prom?” Miles asked.
Louise laughed a little, “Do we really have nothing else to talk about other than a dance in two months?”
Miles rolled his eyes playfully, “I guess not. What did we talk about when we were kids?”
“I have honestly no idea,” Louise smiled, “I don’t think we talked a lot. We mostly played.”
“We did play an ungodly amount of Donkey Kong.”
Louise chuckled, “God, was that game even good? Or were we just kids?”
“I honestly have no idea,” Miles smiled.
The waiter came by and took their order, collecting their menus and refreshing their drinks. It wasn’t long before their food arrived; the plates were decedent and beautiful. They left the restaurant with doggy bags in hand and significantly poorer than when they walked in. Louise clambered into Miles’ truck and waited for Miles to start it. But he didn’t. He was staring at her instead.
“What?” she asked incredulously.
He smiled at her, “I have something for you.”
Her face fell in surprise, “Miles, you told me the dinner was a gift.”
“Well,” Miles shrugged. He reached into his pocket and produced a small velvet box. She took it gingerly into her hands, excitement boiling in her chest. She opened the box softly and found two silver rings. One was engraved with ‘Miles,’ and the other said ‘Louise.’ Miles picked up the one that said his name and handed it to her.
“This one is for you,” he looked at her with huge puppy-dog eyes, “And the other one is for me.”
“Miles…”
“Do you like it?” he asked nervously.
She melted, “I love it. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he said, leaning in and kissing her sweetly.
“Are your parents home?” she asked against his lips.
“No, they won’t be home in hours.”
This time was different than the first. No bile rose up into Louise’s throat; she didn’t have to repress her squirming body. The air smelled like clean linen— fresh and new.
You are crying, and you don’t know why. The music sounds more like singing now, wrapping you in lyrics and hugs. You feel warm and fuzzy. Like you are a little kid who just got home after swimming all day. You are tired in the perfect way. You sink into your blankets and fall asleep.
A humming noise wakes you up. You are in the theater. There is music playing. You aren’t a kid anymore.
You had a drink at dinner before the concert.
You swallowed it with ease.
March 20, 1990
The hum of the radio filled the sweet night air. Louise and Miles lounged in the bed of his beat-up pickup. It was his father's old farm truck, a janky, rusty thing that only ran when it felt like it, but Miles loved it. It was his pride and joy. Any weekend he wasn’t with Louise, he was fixing it up; he would spend hours under the body of that thing, coming into the house reeking of oil and exhaust. Mrs. Wilson hated it; she feared for the safety of her nice beige carpet and the cleanliness of his jeans.
It was freshly spring; it was dry and warm for the first time this year. They were laying on his mother’s old picnic blanket, something she probably wouldn’t care for if she knew. It was pitch black, the only thing that illuminated them were the stars and the faint light of Louise’s kitchen light. They had returned from cruising around town, and neither wanted to go inside yet. They had been lulled into a comfortable silence, their hands knotted together perfectly. And then, suddenly, Louise had a question.
“Do you hate me?”
“Louise…” Miles sighed.
Nervousness leaked into her tone, “I was just making sure.”
“That I don’t hate you? Even though we’re dating?” Miles scoffed, “Why would I be with you if I hated you? What would I gain from that?”
“What if you were using me?” Louise said, her voice small.
“Oh my god,” Miles sat up and put his head in his hands, “‘What if’ Louise, when have I ever, in our entire lives, used you?”
“I don—” she started.
“If you are basing your fear of our relationship on ‘what ifs,’ maybe we shouldn’t be together. You are so absorbed in your past that it's like you aren’t even seeing me, not now, not in the present,” Miles shot at her.
“That’s not fair,” Louise said, her voice breaking with emotion.
Miles took a deep breath, “I’m sorry for what happened, and I get that healing is a hard and long process. But, Louise, I’m tired, too. ”
Hot, stinging tears rolled down Louise’s face, wetting the blanket, “I know you love me. Sometimes I’m just scared.”
“Why are you scared?” Miles whispered.
“I don’t know,” she sniffled, “I am what I am.”
“You are what you are,” Miles repeated, “And I’m tired of pretendning I can change that.”
“Then stop.”
Louise wiped the tears off her face and climbed out of the truck. Her receding footsteps echoed in Miles' head, a pounding that sounded eerily like his heartbeat— fast and hard. Miles sat there for a long while. The radio was still on, blasting The Smiths.
Trumpets blast loud, then louder. You think your eardrum might burst. Then, the music lulls to a stop. The lights do not come on. It is like the entire world has stopped to take a breath. One big inhale. You fill your lungs. The air smells like honeysuckle.
You are a child running in the yard with your dog. You are barefoot. You step on a bee. You limp into the house and cry to your mother. She puts your foot on ice.
You will never feel the grass on your bare foot again. You do not need to learn the lesson twice.

My wife (27F) and I (27M) have been together for 7 years and married for 3. I thought we had a very trusting relationship as we always told each other everything and promised not to lie/keep serious secrets. We even had a talk that if we ever felt the need to cheat or anything we would have a talk first explaining what the issue was within our relationship. This was all due to a situation where she was “forced kissed” by some guy she considered her friend while we were together and hid the fact from me for months until she cracked. I would have never guessed it as she hid it well and i had blind trust for her. I forgave her and we moved on but deep in my mind my trust was damaged.
Shes a very trusting almost naive person where she sees the good in people but can usually tell who creeps are. She doesnt ever show guys interest from what I see when im with her but she believes men and women can be friends where im the opposite on the matter. Anyways, to get to the point, she has a close cousin who has a cousin (not related to her side of the family) who moved into state from down south to go to college. When my wife met him should would always talk about him to me and be so fixated on all the childish things going on in his life, like how hes 19 but a 23 year old woman has been sleeping with him. You know, just gossip I guess. She says its weird for older people to sleep with younger folks and that the woman is wrong and creepy.
Fast forward a month and a half later and my wife have been acting a tad off. I couldn’t put a finger as to why. She would randomly sit on me and tear up saying how she loves me and only wants me. I wanted to question it but she really didn’t give me any reason to. I trusted her blindly. I just figured she was just expressing herself. Until finally she did it for like the 5th time and I pressed her about why she kept talking this way since this didn’t sound like her. She admitted that 3 weeks prior, her cousin’s cousin (not related to her) forced a kiss on her while she was in the car with him during a family event. I was shocked and pissed. I asked how was he able to get a kiss in without her reacting in time and also why they were even in the car together alone. She gave me a reason along the lines where the other cars were full and they asked if he could ride with her to get food or something. And that the kissed was forced. She said she was scared to tell me beacuse of what happened before and didnt think I would believe her even though we had that talk and I thought we were honest with each other from that point forward.
We had a long talk about it and instead of blowing up I comforted her saying sorry she went through that a 2nd time and how ima fuck this guy up. Then she burst into tears and changed the story. She finally says that the truth is he SA her in his dorm room. I was blown away as this was totally unexpected. She lied to me about this situation twice and then drops this on me. I asked her so many questions including ones I didn’t want to hear the answer to.
Her story just doesn’t makes since because it just doesn’t sound like her at all.
Why was she in his dorm? She dropped him off after being with their mutal cousin at the family event and they didnt have room in their car so they asked her to drop him off. When they got there she needed to use restroom then noticed her phone was on 10% and asked him if she could charge it for a bit is what she told me.
Why didn’t you go to the police or even tell me the night it happened? She didn’t think either of us would believe her story. Apparently after the SA happened, he told her it was her fault and that she asked for it for being alone in a room with him and that if he had a wife she’d never be alone with another guy. I guess it made her feel guilty and that it was her fault.
Why didn’t you fight him off like your life depended on it? We wrestled before so i know she is strong. Her answer is because he pinned her down with alot of strength and put all his weight on her and so she got so scared she froze up. She says he ripped her pants off but her pants are always getting stuck on her thighs so when i take them off she has to wiggle a bit to help me get them off. I find it hard to believe he was able to just yank them off while she just layed there frozen in fear especially if he was on top of her.
Why did you have sex with me and not get checked out after this happened? We’ve slept together since then and for all I know he coulda gave her something then she gave it to me since she didnt get checked out. She said she was embarrassed and ashamed about the whole situation and didnt wanna believe this was happening and if she went it would be too real.
He finished inside and didnt use protection and the next day she took 2 plan B’s afterwords.
Typing all this out now makes me feel sick to my stomach.
She cried and cried and admitted she wanted to kill herself after the fact and the only ppl she told was her mom and best friend since she knew theyd believe her.
That night it happened I remember she came home like normal I can’t believe she experienced this and just didn’t say anything to me. She took away our chance at getting any type of justice or for me to go beat his ass. He’s back in his home state now. Im so damn angry about it all but ive been helping her heal and its been a long process but she’s starting to be better and acting like her usual self again. Its been 5 weeks since i found out and i am not doing any better. I feel angry and betrayed and just wanna hurt him but then im the one with the aggrevated assualt charges. While hes off scott free. Literally everything I do or watch reminds me of the situation and I have to force myself to act like it doesn’t bother me so she doesn’t spiral. I force myself to be intamite with her so she dont feel like I dont love her or dont see her the same. But honestly, my trust is gone because I no longer blindly trust her. So a part of me feel like theres more to the story or its not the whole truth.
I dont ever wanna accuse a victim of lying especially in these situations because for that reason is why they never speak up. But I feel betrayed and hurt and even when she finally told me about the situation she still lied about it at first. I havent been able to sleep good since then and she refuse to go to the cops because whatever reason.
Sorry this is so long but I cant even talk to my friends or family about the situation and idk what to do. Should I believe her on this situation and just ignore how I feel? Or do I bring it up and make her spiral again about it all just to make myself feel better about if its actually true and have her retract from all the progress we made on getting her back to normal mentally?
TLDR: wife has hid things from me before but promised not to do it again. Years later found out she hid the fact she was in someones room and was SA and changes the story twice before telling the whole truth.

Hey guy's so I been using an estrogen blocker for sometime now to raise my T levels. I will not lie but I have been abusing it from being hooked to the strength and dry look it gave me and I then started to get side effects. I had a lot of fatigue, achy bones, memory issues, poor sleep and one of the shocking ones that I never expected was my muscle mass started to decrease and I gained fat around my mid section. I got off of it a few days ago and suddenly now I look a lot fuller in mass and my strength has increased dramatically. Was I suppressing my muscle building potential while on the estrogen blocker? Trying to learn more about hormones and hormonal compound's so if you can kindly teach me something here about them I'd appreciate it. Thank's

I have been taking the Opill for about 2 weeks now, and I have noticed my breasts are extremely sore this week as well as my mood has increasingly become more sensitive, one second I’m happy, the next second I’m crying over something completely irrelevant, and then I’m angry and snappy over small things, etc…I have also noticed that my appetite has decreased and I am very easily nauseated. I was wondering if anyone else was experiencing similar effects/if it’s normal to feel these side effects?

Why? Because it's normal to have a stress response to more stress. Life is stressful and ridiculous and as you get older you have medications thrown at you that may give you side effects (some people in the spectrum are sensitive to med side effects) especially ssris which cause horrible withdrawals especially probably to those with sensitive stress responses like autistic people and then tons of responsibilities and these stupid jobs with mean people and the increasing demand on your body with age to be much more healthier so you don't have stress related illnesses or other illnesses (sometimes that means giving up safe foods) and other things. It's normal to reach burnout or be "more autistic" as an adult with all the insane shit we have to deal with. All you can do is be kind to yourself and research healthy ways to cope. Fun fact: swimming lowers blood pressure and calms you down. If you can't swim stay in the shallow end and lift your chest out of the water breathe in fully and exhale with your chest under water. It's very calming

I am probably overthinking this (or being overly anxious)… but if you took your half tablet in the evening - did you feel groggy or drowsy the next day?
I’m on kit 5 (I think?) The metformin & topirmate. I’ve been taking the metformin with minimal side effects for almost a week. I’ve been wanting to wait until I have a day off before I try the topiramate.
Oh and it might be my imagination, but I feel like my cravings have evened out? I had a lighter lunch because I wasn’t super hungry. We went to a local amusement park and I was expecting to get hungry and it would be tempting to get food there (avoiding that because it’s so pricey!). I was fine. No cravings. Not super hungry. It wasn’t even a struggle to not buy something?! I wonder if my blood sugar is evening out a bit and that’s helping?

I’ve been taking d3 and magnesium on and off for the past couple months and i had to stop because the d3 was making me have intrusive thoughts and made me agitated. I don’t think magnesium oxide would cause this. 4 days ago, i decided to supplement 1600mg of vitamin c because i dont eat enough, and i felt great and clear. the next day i took dr best d3 + mk7 supplement for the first time and i felt super clear and my vision felt like it was turned to 4k which i liked a lot. That night i felt weird but i was able to sleep. When i woke up i felt extremely off and foggy and i have heart palpitations at night when trying to sleep and i have chest pain and tender ribs and it gives me crazy anxiety. My arms and hands shake badly because anxiety + whatever is wrong with me. in public my anxiety is worse. I’ve also started taking drs best magnesium chelate glycine for 2 days but it gives me insomnia and low blood pressure. I feel like i’m going crazy. could it hypercalcemia? I notice clear white sediment settle at the bottom if i pee in a bottle.

Purpose of these Guidelines
The purpose of this chapter is threefold; 1) to identify the problem of mis-diagnosis of Schizophrenia in adults with trauma-based disorders originating in ritual abuse and trauma-based mind control (we will refer to these hereon as Ritual abuse/mind control traumatic stress), 2) to provide diagnosticians unfamiliar with the clinical presentation of Ritual abuse/mind control traumatic stress with guidelines to facilitate recognition of such cases and to thereby reduce the likelihood of their being mis-diagnosed as Schizophrenia, and 3) to provide diagnosticians experienced with Ritual abuse/mind control traumatic stress with guidelines to facilitate differential diagnosis between such trauma and Schizophrenia in cases with complex clinical features and diagnostic questions.
Mis-diagnosis results in harmful outcomes for ritual abuse and mind control victims in both the mental health and the legal arena. Harmful treatment decisions based on mis-diagnosis include lack of provision of treatment for trauma, incorrect and excessive use of medications, sometimes with severe and irreversible side effects, reinforcement of victims’ fears that they are hopelessly crazy and untreatable, long-term hospitalization, and involuntary hospital commitment. Harmful legal outcomes include incorrect findings of insanity, valid reports of abuse being viewed as delusional within law enforcement investigations and judicial proceedings, and forced conservatorship removing victims’ basic freedoms.
In order to judge the veracity of victims’ reports of these abuses, the clinician must have a basis for understanding what ritual abuse and trauma-based mind control programming are, that they do exist, the kinds of torture endured by victims of these abuses, and familiarity with the most common ritual symbols, artifacts, and holidays utilized by these abuser groups. A general overview of these now follows.
http://endritualabuse.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/chapter4finalrevisions2008.pdf
This is presented as information to combat a major and subsequently powerful objective of the original and ongoing (duhhh) MK program.
"Discovery or the following materials and methods: that will promote illogical thinking and impulsiveness to the point where the receiver would be discredited in public, increase the frequency of mentaion and perception, prevent or counteract the effects of alcohol, promote signs and symptoms of recognized diseases in a reversible way so they can be used for malingering..."
"Malingering is not considered a mental illness. In the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition (DSM-5), malingering receives a V code as one of the other conditions that may be a focus of clinical attention. The DSM-5describes malingering as the intentional production of false or grossly exaggerated physical or psychological problems. Motivation for malingering is usually external (e.g., avoiding military duty or work, obtaining financial compensation, evading criminal prosecution, or obtaining drugs). [1]". or in this case discrediting reports of crime so vile its prosecution caries the death penalty.

I’ve been on an elimination diet, more specifically on carnivore diet for a month and a half desperately hoping it would help with my eczema. On this diet you are able to get all the nutrients that you need from the meats but potassium and magnesium tend to be a little low. A lot of folks use electrolytes powder but I’ve been my stubborn self, I only had Celtic salt in water for magnesium and potassium intake. But recently I started to take multivitamins and have 1/4tsp of potassium chloride and magnesium malate as well as Celtic salt in my water (These are in one of popular electrolytes powder among carnivores), and my eczema has cleared up! I still had flareups here and there even the last month and a half even though I eliminated most of suspected products but some of you guys mentioned recently that vitamin D and magnesium seem to have something to do with eczema so I decided to take those. I am so happy now it’s cleared but now coming to know that it could be as simple as that kind of makes me a little annoyed. Oh and the side effect of this diet is that you lose weight. And I sure did. I guess I’ll take that! Haha

I did lgd can rad for 30 days at 7.5 mg for lgd and 10 mg for rad got problems with erections so stopped and waited to recover never really fully recover I feel like high scrotum is the main problem idk what’s cause that any tips I’ve just hopped back on but halfed the dosage from before and only side effect is high scrotum still anyone know how to fix this or had the same problem?

Here are a few I was thinking of, please add more!
I don't know whether I want kids or not? How did you decide? How do other people to decide?
This is a very personal decision, try to talking to as many different people in your life about their decisions and how they felt about it.
My husband makes fun of me for my weight, has been cheating in me for months, and I just found out he is deep in debt, what do I do?
Sister, I think you know what to do, you just need permission to do it - leave this guy.
OMG, my boyfriend just dumped me and I am 32. Will I be able to have kids? Will I die alone? Is my life effectively over?
You are in a stage of acute grief right now, not just for your relationship but for the future you were planning. Many have been where you are now, and most have recovered very well. Be patient with yourself in your grief, and don't make too many final decisions about your future or anything else right now.
I'm 30, single, live with my parents, and have a meaningless dead-end job. Literally everyone else I know is doing fabulously and I feel I am falling behind, what do I do?
First of all, everyone in their 20s and 30s feels they are behind in life in some way, our standards are just oo ridiculously high - and if everyone is behind, no one is. Plus, I assure you, everyone you know does not have a perfect life, they may just project that to you. Try to focus on a single goal - getting a better job, getting your own place, getting in a good mental place to date, whatever, and work on a step by step plan to make that happen.
How do I tell my friends to reach out to me more, I am the one always making the plans and it sucks?
Every friend group has a social initiator, and it looks like you're the one! This is usually the person who has the most available time or brain space due to fewer social responsibilities (partnered relationships, kids, eldercare, etc.); a job that is less stressful, inflexible, or time-consuming, or they are not struggling with chronic health issues or other crises. Being a social initiator is a valuable thing, and people appreciate it. Some day, you will be the busy one and the job will fall to someone else. In the mean time, being a social initiator is only one part of being a good friend, try to appreciate your friends for what they can do for you right now.

i took the pill for about 3 years, i stopped because my sex drive went to 0 and my depression got so bad it would’ve legitimately killed me to keep taking it. now i have a copper iud but my skin is breaking out so bad constantly and my periods are horrible, the week before and during my period i get so angry and suicidal and i cry so much. i really miss the light periods and clear skin the pill gave me but i like not being suicidal for at least 2 out of 4 weeks a month and having a normal sex drive with the copper iud. is there any birth control with no side effects that isn’t condoms or hormonal?? i feel like there’s always at least one horrible thing you have to endure with any kind of birth control..

Some back story to start.
6 weeks ago was rushed to the hospital with what I thought was a stroke, nope severe vertigo and panic attacks. Docs started me on Cilatropam 20mg Fast forward, side effects sucked for 5 of those weeks on top of the vertigo so I was basically in bed for that whole time, no working out, no driving, no walks, lost 15 lbs in 4 weeks and had no muscle mass left. (I used to work out 5 days a week) With that said, I am back on my feet (thank god) however my legs and arms are shaky like when I bend down for example. It is like they tremble.
Now I realize that it will take time to rebuild what I lost however I do need some insight as to how long and what can be done?! Why am I posting here?!! Well I am having panic attacks cause I am thinking I have parkinsons or something…. Urgh…
Any insight would be awesome Thanks in advance

Tbh I don't even know how to begin explaining this. For a while now I have considered the possibility that I may have a slight case of scoliosis. The left side of my ribs flare out a bit more than the right and anytime I stretch or do postural exercises, it feels almost as if my low ribs on the left side (on my back) are digging into something. I'm unsure if it's muscle or what. If I catch myself I am able to correct it and not cause anymore discomfort by resting it and not repeating any of the aggravating movements.
Yet, my hypchondriac brain has tried to constantly manhandle my posture these past few days and I have, by consequence, upset whatever my ribs are "pressing on". It's not a sharp pain, more of an ache that sometimes spreads down my side if my ribs are pressing on it or if I move in a certain way. I woke up with it this morning (since I slept on my side and supported my weight on my left side) and it has ached all day if I tweak it just right.
Could my ribs be pressing on muscle? Or is this something serious? Should I just rest and let it go away?
Any answer or insight is much appreciated.

Taguk, Fiend of Pain

An Azakana who feed and find pleasure on Pain of others and Pain for himself.

Date:

28.04.2024

Image:

I do not own these images. It is served as a reference only.

Gameplay:

Taguk is a Jungler Tank. He is strong against DPS type Enemy Champion which their Continuous Small damages would be his advantage. Poison/Bleed/Burn at less damage would Heal him instead.

Note:

All of spell damage/effect, scalings, amount, cost and cooldowns are roughly estimated. Numbers can be adjusted and it is only a representation.

Passive: Pleasure on Pain

INNATE: Taguk has a certain threshold of Pain Intolerance. If he takes (25 +3.5xlvl) (+0.35% of his Max Health) Post-Mitigated ⚔️🔥Damage or below, he will be ⛑️Healed instead of damaging him.

This passive does not trigger on True Damages, example: Twitch Passive.

Post-Mitigated ⚔️🔥Damage more than the health Threshold would take damage normally.

Threshold Amount can be changed in order to balance the Heal amount against Monsters when played as Jungle.

Q: Soul Devourer

ACTIVE: Taguk devours the soul of all enemy unit in a small target cone in front dealing 🔥Magic Damage over ⌛️1 second while 🎯Slowing them.
He devours the enemy if it kills them, which ⛑️Heals him and then temporarily gain bonus 🪖Armor and 👘Magic Resistance per unit.
Bonus 🪖👘Defense Stats is lost by 75% of amount upon ☠️Taguk’s death.

🔥Total Magic Damage	(60/90/120/150/180) (+55% bonus AD) (+3/3.5/4/4.5/5% Taguk’s Max Health)
⛑️Heal	(10/30/50/70/90) (+2/2.25/2.5/2.75/3% Taguk’s Max Health) per unit devoured
🪖👘Bonus ArmoMR per Stack	(0.3/0.45/0.6/0.75/0.9) ArmoMR
🎯Cast Range	375
📐Cone Angle	80
🕒Cooldown	(8/7/6/5/4) seconds
🩸Cost	5% Max Health

W: Azakana’s Aura

ACTIVE: Taguk releases Aura around him which reduces the 🪖Armor of nearby Enemy unit while he gains 🔰Damage Reduction based on how many enemy unit inside the Aura.

🪖Armor Reduction	(10/15/20/25/30%) (+5% per 100 bonus AD)
🔰Damage Reduction	(30% (+5/7.5/10/12.5/15% per Enemy unit))
🎯Aura Radius	515
🕒Cooldown	(20/18/16/14/12) seconds
🩸Cost	(6/7/8/9/10%) Max Health

E: Truculent Rush

ACTIVE: Taguk rush a short distance while his arms are spread/extended on both sides. All enemy unit encountered are ⏭️PUSHED then Clasp his hands in front (Like he Clap his both Arm) which all enemy unit caught is ➡️⬅️DISPLACED in front of him.
This would deal ⚔️Physical Damage while leave them 😵Stunned for 0.5 second.

This cannot pass through Terrain/Wall.

⚔️Physical Damage	(65/95/125/155/185) (+45% bonus AD)
🎯Rush Range	450
🎯Width	340
🕒Cooldown	(15/14/13/12/11) seconds
🩸Cost	(2/2.5/3/3.5/4% Max Health)

Ultimate: Frenzy Mode

ACTIVE: Taguk gain Bonus 🥾Movement Speed, Bonus 🏹Attack Speed and deal Bonus ⚔️Physical Damage On-hit. Effect lasts for a ⌛️duration and is extended Until leaving the Battlefield.
Additionally, all damage taken is DELAYED and converted into as Damage Overtime (DPS) in over ⌛️4 seconds.

This Delayed damage is useful on his Passive. Delayed damage means the damage taken is portioned (divided into 4 parts) which is reduced thus ⛑️Healing him if it on the threshold.

🥾Bonus Movement Speed	(15/20/25%) (+25% based on his Missing Health)
🏹Bonus Attack Speed	(30/45/60%)
⚔️Bonus Damage On-Hit	(10/15/20) (2/2.5/3% of his Max Health)
⌛️Effect Duration	(6/8/10) seconds or until leaving the Battle
🩸Cost	(10% Max Health)

I got the steed stone to increase carry weight but I noticed it removed the clinking noise from heavy armor during movement and made it sound like light armor (normal footsteps).
I changed back to a different stone because I liked the immersion of the original sound effect but it still sounds light armor footsteps. Any fix for this?

Just looking for a little boost in my training to get some lean muscle mass. Have been researching for about 2 months now. Obviously looking for minimal side effects. From what I’ve seen, my best option is MK-677 and Ostarine with enclo test base. Opinions on this please:
8 week cycle MK- 10mg throughout possibly bump to 15mg later on Ostarine- also 10mg possibly bump to 15mg Enclo- introduce in week 5 or when feeling suppressed 6.25mg EOD then 6.25mg ED last week or 2 of cycle and 2 weeks post cycle P5P- 50mg daily for prolactin Milk thistle or NAC for liver Berberine for glucose disposal??
Again this is something I’m new to and just looking for a little boost. Thoughts??