Sore throat and very tired |

I actually pretty much at this point feel that I have what we all fear. I've been feeling increasingly bad for the past weeks. The tightness, pain , pre-crampy, cramps and hyperreflexive state of my legs in particular is becoming unbearable and I feel how my mobility is becoming a bit affected because of that. I feel like I am in a constant pain and if I do some physical activity the after soreness is also terrible. I feel this in all of my body but especially legs. If I tap the tendon of my knees, my legs fly violently forward (I know i shouldn't self test this but during my last neuro exam this was also clearly noted. The report says I have +3/+3 reflexes in both legs. Arms also brisk.. ). What I am certain about is that I didn't have such brisk reflexes before all this started and I feel this has been getting increasingly worse with time. I feel like im very easily startled, if something accidentaly touches my legs it would sometimes trigger the reflexes.
At the same time my twitching has been getting more intense. I have almost constant fasciculations of whole body. Every muscle has been affected. It has also changed pattern a bit. Instead of random single pops (allthough still getting a lot) I am getting longer bouts of twitching lasting up to a minute, firing very frequntley in all muscles of my torso each time I cough or sneeze or when I roll in bed. Legs going on constantly but not just calves. Every muscle of my legs twitches from glutes to feet . Very frequent twitching in my jaw, neck and bulbar area but aso common in eyebrows and forehead, even scalp. Arms also affected. The other day both arms were twitching at the same time..
I feel extremely tired and sore all the time . I have also felt periods of shortness of breath these past days. Perceived difficulty speaking and mild swallowing issues. These have been going on for several months already without really worsening but are not going away either and I can definetly tell there's something very wrong going on with my body. Everything feels off.

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

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

For context, I am in University about 50 miles from where she and my parents live, so I commute every weekend and most weekdays to see her. I love her. Plain and simple, in so many ways. We used to work together until she got a better job recently. Yesterday was her birthday. I made her some cookies common in the continent she's from, and baked them into heart shapes. I also got her 25$ of lottery tickets, flowers, her favorite energy drink, and a handwritten card with a lot of writing and drawings of us and her cat. I dropped it off to her in the morning after an all-nighter (going through it with finals and papers right now) and drove to the University to work my full shift. First she texted me thanking me for the gift, then asked me "what the fuck" those cookies were and that she choked on them. I was sad, told her what they were, and she told me I shouldn't have cooked something as a gift since I'm a bad cook. (I am, but I've made other stuff that she liked in the past). She also complained that the whole point of buying lottery tickets is to buy them, not to scratch them (I disagree?). She texted me that I shouldn't have gotten her anything if it was just going to be low effort.
I saw her later that night after she got out of work, and she was mad at me. She said I ruined her birthday by giving such a low effort gift, and that I didn't care about her. She brought up that I ruined her birthday last year too (by not immediately stopping our text conversation about some other girl and wishing her happy birthday the minute it got past midnight). Anytime I responded that I did put effort into the cookies, she would just deny it. Incredibly frustrating since I know how much effort I put in. She was mad the flowers I got her were not in a boquet, only loose, which didn't make it seem like a special occasion. At the heart of it she was mad that my gifts weren't special? To me the card and cookies were plenty special but she just says that it was stuff I've given her other days. She started calling me ret*rded, to which I responded "You're mean to me and I don't like it". I don't remember much of what she said (I'd had 4 hours of sleep in the past 2 nights), but she doubled down and continued calling me a wide variety of hurtful words, from ret*rded to stupid to childish and immature. I was already long sobbing, and in the middle asked her to just hit me instead. She obviously refused. She asked if I even wanted to go on our trip this upcoming weekend. I responded yes, and she replied that maybe I don't if I don't care about her enough to get her a decent gift.
She's horrifically depressed, and I know she has some specific trauma in response to people not caring about her birthdays. I think that explains part of it. Still, I tried. I am also depressed myself. I've tried bringing it up to her a few times and she responds that I'm "always bitching too much" because my life is so perfect. Compared to hers its way better, yes, but that doesn't mean I need a reason to be depressed. She's also acted distant the entire Spring semester. I rarely spend time with her, and even more rarely is it time that isn't just "okay we can see each other for 5 minutes but I have to go in". We havent' had sex since January, or cuddling. I very much miss both of these things, and we've had (rare) opportunities for them shes missed because shes too busy sleeping (I'm not allowed in her appartment to join her, mom discovered we had sex).
At the end of being yelled at when she denied me a hug and told me essentially to go away, I had a nervous break. Honestly I've been working too much and I'm overwhelmed with needing to find a new second job and the immense weight of finals and final essays ,things breaking on my car, and now this. I sped off, her and her mom heard my tires squealing and uninvited me from the trip. I drove recklessly for about 2-3 minutes on backroads while scream-crying about killing myself and fighting the urge to drive into a tree. Not proud of it. But I am devastated about missing the trip. She backed out on us living together, and promised we could have time to cuddle on the trip. I honestly don't feel like I have anything to look forward to.
I do a lot for her. I drive two hours round trip every time I want to see her, sometimes even for 5 minutes to drop off some food before going back. I've spent the past academic year working to support our long-standing plans of moving out together (This past weekend was my first time having more than one day off in a row since accompanying her to her surgery in October). I bring her flowers weekly, at work I do all of the hard stuff for her and massage her shoulders if she feels sore. I bring her food from my University and any treats she wants from the surrounding stores. I always ask if she wants anything. I have never said anything hurtful to her. She apologizes when she hurts my feelings too much and she realizes it, like last night. I spend thousands on her, whether jewelry (the most expensive ring she lost), buying her contacts or paying big bills when shes strugglign like drivers' ed or her wheel bearing replacements.
She texted me that shes sorry I'm not going and that she hurt me but I need to control my emotions better. That she loves me so much and regardless of our fights she will always love me so much. I responded that I felt like an unappreciated chore and didnt want to get yelled at. She replied that I'm not a chore she just hasnt had time and has been too depressed to make time for me. We texted a bit and I slept a few hours until my final/work today. She clearly didn't like me defending myself by saying that if i got a present i didnt like i wouldnt call my partner a "worthless ret*rd" by responding "i never called you worthless dont put words in my mouth...i sent you messages apologizing and being worried and your response is victimizing and arguing more...not happy with ruining my birthday? had to go further and ruin the day after?"
We've been texting each other throughout the day happier things. She's been sending me recipes to be a better cook and wants me to see her for 5 minutes after work in about 2 hours from the time of writing. I want to be with her. I love her, I've done so much, I will continue. But I feel like I'm being verbally abused. And I don't know how to stop it. I'm so overwhelmed with everythign in my life and I really just need someone on my side. I think i'll just first establish a rule of not interrupting/yelling and then telling her how hurt and lonely I feel. That I love her and I can totally work with her on managing time for me and depression but that I cannot tolerate verbal abuse.
TLDR: Gave girlfriend cookies for her birthday. She didnt like them and called me a ret*rd. I had a nervous break from other combined stressors, made a scene with reckless driving, got uninvited to a trip with her and her mom. She is texting me recipes and being nice to me today. I will see her in a few hours. I am hurt and overwhelmed with life and just want to be treated like I'm loved.
Thank you readers

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

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

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

The journey has come to an end. I am sterilized as of today - I am so relieved and grateful. Best thing I have done for myself. Surgery was scheduled quickly: consult was scheduled on 5/8, pre-op appt was 5/9 and 5/14 was the surgery. It went very smoothly. I was under Dr. Wollenschlaeger. I am non-binary and this was respected. I was allowed to wear a chest binder during the procedure ad well. I could not recommend him enough. Incredibly considerate and understanding. I am sore and tired, but otherwise coherent and quite alright:) I wanted to extend my sincere gratitude and thanks for this subreddit for being such a solid resource. I am so happy this chapter is finally over. Any questions, do ask.

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

A few days ago I started practicing this, as stress and anxiety were affecting me a lot, both physically and mentally. I have been doing cardiac coherence breathing, and the first day I did it several times during the day, and I felt very good, I really managed to relax and I felt very good, the second day I felt good too, but the third day I started to feel bad, as if I had a fever. I don't know exactly how to explain it, but I feel my head hot and when I exhale I feel an uncomfortable hot air, also my throat feels a little sore. Now, I tried to do the exercise again but I started to feel worse while breathing, and I better stop. Is it normal? why does this happen?
Sorry my English, btw

A few days ago I started practicing this, as stress and anxiety were affecting me a lot, both physically and mentally. I have been doing cardiac coherence breathing, and the first day I did it several times during the day, and I felt very good, I really managed to relax and I felt very good, the second day I felt good too, but the third day I started to feel bad, as if I had a fever. I don't know exactly how to explain it, but I feel my head hot and when I exhale I feel an uncomfortable hot air, also my throat feels a little sore. Now, I tried to do the exercise again but I started to feel worse while breathing, and I better stop. Is it normal? why does this happen?

A few months ago a someone parked their car in my neighborhood right in front of my house, My neighborhood is right next to a highschool so we get a lot of cars parking there each day but this car was left there for about 3 weeks and had not moved. Its always a struggle finding street parking since we live near a highschool and this car was taking up valuable space. I spoke to a few of the neighbors and they all said it was not theirs. It got really dirty and started becoming an eye sore so I decided to call 1-800-abandoned. After a week they marked one of the tires, then a week after that it was gone. I assume they towed it since it was gone very early in the morning and I heard a tow truck early in the morning. Anyways about a month has gone by and now the car is back in the same EXACT spot, but now it is totally spotless like someone detailed it. Its been about 4 days since it was parked and it has not moved. One strange thing about it is that it has dealer plates. (the metal plates that say DLR) which means it belongs to a used car dealer. Its a 2012 BMW 7 series if that's relevant. Has anyone else experienced anything like this? Any advice would be great thank you.

Writing this for folks whose home park is OG Disneyland and are considering or planning a trip to DLP. Whether that's you or you're looking for advice in the opposite direction, feel free to AMA!
I wrote up some aspects of my trip in this post, for reference. For context, I visit Anaheim a few times a year for 2-3 days each -- sometimes alone, sometimes with others -- and have been to Walt Disney World a handful of times (mostly for a single day while visiting my in-laws in the Orlando area).
Stow yer weapons: this is gonna be long. I'll talk atmosphere, attractions, food and drinks, and tips geared toward this audience. (I won't cover shows or character greetings, since they're not really my thing.)
Atmosphere:
Disneyland Paris is widely regarded as the most beautiful of the castle parks, and I agree. The attention to detail is stunning, from the horticulture to the rock work to the stained glass in the castle. The land transitions are smooth and beautifully executed, and the park generally feels more deliberately planned (probably since it wasn't built in a year and haphazardly swapping parts for the next seventy, like DLCA).
The park is bigger than Anaheim's, probably close to Magic Kingdom size, so add a minute or two to your commute time when crossing from one end to the other.
Some can't-miss experiences and details unique to DLP (skipping the rides since I'll cover those next, but including walk-throughs):
MAIN STREET

The arcades on either side. Don't miss either of them! I enjoy the Discovery side with steampunk visions of cities in the future.
If you can tour Walt's, do: the salons are themed by original lands and are charming. The home goods store named after Lily also has some nice turn-of-the-century fixtures and creative interior design.

FANTASYLAND

The dragon. I mean, it's a dragon under the castle that snorts smoke!
Shop interiors, especially Snow White and the Merlin shop. The beanstalk was closed when I was there, sadly.
Cinderella's glass carriage near the Auberge.
Sleeping Beauty's Castle. Do the walk-through. Eyvind Earle would be proud. The rectangular topiaries are a nice touch.
The Alice in Wonderland labyrinth! Charming surprises, a true dead end, and a climb to a super neat park view in the center.

ADVENTURELAND

The marketplace and Aladdin cave. Reminiscent of the Morocco pavilion at Epcot (sadly, I haven't been to Morocco). The restaurant has a very cool lived-in market look if you can take a peek inside. Even the windows have faux Maltese balconies/muxrabija and hanging wares.
Adventure Isle. It's basically their version of Tom Sawyer's Island, so you can clamber through caves, look through Skull Rock, run around a pirate ship, and generally pretend you're eight. Genuinely photo-worthy.

FRONTIERLAND

Peek into their version of the Golden Horseshoe. It may not be a replica of Calamity Jane's, like ours, but it's handsome and bigger.
Phantom Manor's horticultural and exterior design. There's just more space for cool themed plants, and the queue design gives you time to admire them.

DISCOVERYLAND

Steampunk everything! This is where we got our Astro-Orbiter and our short-lived, ill-fated redesign from the late 90s. It looks way better on them.
The submarine walk through is really fun. Not sure how much it resembles the original walk-through from 50s Disneyland, but it's a low-key and visually rich treat, especially when it's sunny out.

Rides:
Some comparisons and contrasts. Didn't ride everything (e.g. carousel, teacups, Autopia), so I'll just share notes on the ones I did.
Big Thunder: Best version I've been on, period. It's on an island, so you plunge in and out of the darkness to get there, and the seats are actually divided so you're not body-slamming the person next to you every time you careen around a corner. Don't sleep on the detail and theming! Only bummer: no goat trick.
Pirates: Great queue: caves and little sneak peeks into scenes. Caribbean themed instead of bayou, restaurant included. Different structure and order of scenes, and frankly sort of confusing (e.g. Jack Sparrow is on the treasure pile among the skeleton tableaux for his little monologue). The sword fighting scene is unique to DLP (I think).
Fantasyland dark rides: Pinocchio is almost exactly the same as in CA. Snow White is more like the pre-COVID version, but even creepier; it's definitely the most divergent from the current CA version. Peter Pan is close to its CA version, but feels slightly larger?
Small World: More granular Europe, cute America section, generally quite different in layout. White-clad finale is a fair with a Ferris wheel and such.
Haunted Mansion/Phantom Manor: Identical ride track and Doom Buggies, but totally different storyline and different tableaux, particularly at the finale, which is a Western town instead of a graveyard. They don't put scrims in front of the frontier town zombies, which makes them creepier somehow. It's a unique take and a must-do.
Space Mountain: This one blows ours out of the water. Catapult launch, several inversions, much faster and darker. Be aware they don't have pouches for your stuff and will instruct you to put it on the floor. I stepped on the strap of my bag because I was certain I was gonna lose it.
Star Tours: Identical, though one time I got narration in English and the other time in French. May be randomized?
Railroad: No primeval world but they do have their own Grand Canyon. Circle tour is a must; you cover completely different ground and get a great pano of the whole park. My train was in compartments rather than long cars.
Indiana Jones: This is not the Jeep tour by any stretch; it's an outdoor roller coster that rattled my teeth out of my head. Think an extreme version of Goofy's Sky School with the unbanked turns. KEEP YOUR HEAD BACK. And even then, don't be surprised if you get off with sore ears and a buzzy headache that last a few minutes.
Food and Drinks:
I talked extensively about this in my other post, so I'll just note a couple of comparisons.

Alcohol is more widely available in the Paris park, akin to DCA. Your best bet is wine or a kir (or a beer, if you prefer) unless you're at a place with a dedicated cocktail menu.
The little stalls across from Small World serve things like ham and gruyère sandwiches and gauffres and sweets, with beer and wine available. Meh by Paris standards, but decent snacks that you wouldn't find in Anaheim.
Unique themed dining. Captain Jack's has sub-par food, but if you're a fan of the Blue Bayou, it may be worth it just for the Caribbean nighttime theming. Boats floating by, and a more defined/secluded space than the sea of tables at BB. (Who goes to BB for the food anyway?) Agrabah restaurant has the most divergent theming and food from anything you can get in DLR.

General info/advice:
I have a lot of good news for Californians, because Paris is a cakewalk in comparison. I'm sure I hit a slower period, but it's so easy to go with the flow without playing nine-dimensional chess on your phone every three minutes.

Stay at a hotel on campus! The great news is that the hotels, parks and shops are after security, so you won't have to leave the bubble for your whole trip. Say goodbye to waiting in line for bag check behind one billion strollers every morning. If you're staying in the DLH (covered in my other post), you basically roll out of bed and through the turnstiles.
Early entry was EMPTY, and since it was 8:30 instead of 7-7:30, it felt downright luxurious. Hit those Fantasyland rides like they're going out of style. I hit Peter Pan twice before 8:40. That one does fill up later and skipping the line costs an absurd amount of money, so morning is your best bet. Not everything is open for extra magic hour, though, so do check your map.
The park is significantly bigger and you're going to do a lot of walking. It's not as easy to jump from point to point in rapid succession as in our little jewel of a park. Plan accordingly.
That said, take the time to really slow down and enjoy your surroundings. No need to travel halfway across the world just to bang out a bunch of rides. It's fun to check out the beautifully executed transitions (John Hench would be proud). There's even a list of horticultural treasures within the app.
Express pass is way easier than Genie Plus. I don't recommend getting the full day; the one day I did it, I failed to break even on what I would have spent skipping the line for individual rides. Get it for the rides you want if the line looks too steep for you. They're generally valid either immediately or within 5 minutes.

I'm tired of typing, and you're doubtless tired of reading, but if you have questions about the Studios park, feel free to ask in the comments.

Hi <3
Im currently overseas and have 4 month left to have a passing voice, before I need to go home. Also from September on I want to finally life fully as Female only. Official Name change is also incoming :))
I just can't do this boy mode shit any more, which I have to do even now and when I can't get my voice passing by mid Sept '24.
So I have a big motivation, but are absolut untalented in voice training. Other girls watch YouTube tutorials and that works for them. For me not..
I need exercise which which I can repead until I made it, than move on to the next sound.
Is there a video where there not talking a half an hour about vocal length, pitch, resonance and so on. BUT actually have the focus on practising and progress?
I've already lost 2 month due to a sore in my throat... Stl not great.. :!

are there actually practise videos on Youtube?
what app do u use where it's more visible than just the pitch (if this is nessesary)
any helpful tipps are very welcome.

THANK YOU <3
SHORT: I basically need a Crashcourse with focus on exercise for dummy's. 4 month time to pass.

Hi <3
Im currently overseas and have 4 month left to have a passing voice, before I need to go home. Also from September on I want to finally life fully as Female only. Official Name change is also incoming :))
I just can't do this boy mode shit any more, which I have to do even now and when I can't get my voice passing by mid Sept '24.
So I have a big motivation, but are absolut untalented in voice training. Other girls watch YouTube tutorials and that works for them. For me not..
I need exercise which which I can repead until I made it, than move on to the next sound.
Is there a video where there not talking a half an hour about vocal length, pitch, resonance and so on. BUT actually have the focus on practising and progress?
I've already lost 2 month due to a sore in my throat... Stl not great.. :!

are there actually practise videos on Youtube?
what app do u use where it's more visible than just the pitch (if this is nessesary)
any helpful tipps are very welcome.

THANK YOU <3
SHORT: I basically need a Crashcourse with focus on exercise for dummy's. 4 month time to pass.

Being undiagnosed for so long I was always told this hypervigilance of mine was just ptsd and cptsd from some big t and little t trauma. I'm starting to think it has a lot more to do with the burden of masking while also having experienced the potentially catastrophic consequences of unmasking when I was very young and couldn't remotely unpack any of that beyond just developing a "quick, hide!" knee-jerk reaction. Which in my book qualifies as traumatic so it's still cptsd, just from a different source.
I'm just so tired and anxious all the fucking time, even when I'm doing my absolute best. I think for a very long time I didn't fully realise the weight being perceived has on me. I'm realising even in online interactions I'm very conscious of how I phrase things and if I get a reply (even a compliment!) that I don't fully understand or even on here just get downvoted without understanding why I tend to obsess over it because that (me not understanding why, not being downvoted or criticised/praised in itself) is a big fat warning sign. It means I don't know what I'm doing, it means I still don't understand people at all and I manage to "look" weird and sus even as an immaterial entity, it means I'm giving off completely different vibes than I intend to and any interaction outside my innermost circle becomes a game of Russian roulette. So, to me, it ultimately means it's just a matter of time before I get myself in danger or trouble again.
Stupid example but today I was chatting (as in, typing text) with customer service and trying my best to be as polite and neutral as possible, wasn't a big issue anyway. Then the agent wrote "I understand your frustration and..." and that was all it took lol I started wondering if it was just a copy paste reply or if I had said something wrong.
It's like having a magnifying glass constantly on me and having to exist and get on with life while trying to figure out who's looking through the lense, what they wanna see and how to deliver the required performance in order for them to think they can look away because there's nothing to see. I just want to be left alone but even that requires constant monitoring and low-level masking.
For years I've been perceived as either off-putting, distant, and weird or some sort of rebellious manic pixie dream girl persona. I didn't enjoy any of it but for a time I thought I could work with that. That anyone who didn't like me could fuck off and I'd just have to deal with the people who thought they liked me for their own made up reasons being disappointed and leaving. Of course that was naive, I learned pretty quickly that what I knew to be true in school was also - even more so - true for adulthood: sticking out like a sore thumb gets you in trouble, blending is very valuable but takes up a whole lot of mental bandwidth. Yay!

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

Don't get me wrong. Pay is great, work is steady depending on where you work in the facilities, breaks are nice (again depending where you work, i hear horror stories from the cashiers), and generally? not a terrible vibe on third shift which is a god-send from the normal rabble.
What makes the job awful, much like any location, is the management. We've got several managers, much like any store, and of course they have their "favorites" who get away with everything barring murder. Some that walk around doing nothing all day, some that just sit in the wrong departments chatting, leaving the customers without help, some that ignore the customers asking for assistance as a whole, even a few that due the famous "U-turn" where they go back and forth from the bathroom and breakroom all night before clocking out. Everything we say about these individuals; in one ear, out the other. whether it's to HR, CXM, mod, directly to the individual in question or the boss of the store. Due to the crazy loops and mountain of paper-trailing required, the damage is already heavily implemented before anything can be freaking done about them, making the job twenty times harder than it needs to be.
Then you got the workers who bust their butt to make ends meet getting treated worse than the dirt you stand on because of these headaches. This goes on for every shift, but i need to focus on my own experiences through the third shift stress and tension as it has been getting extremely volatile. Between the problems above and a hard-headed manager interested in rushing to complete tasks over the safety of the worker, and the lack of stable workers since only 3 of us are full time + 2 part timers who do, essentially, full time hours, the strain on the night crew is insane. What sent me over the edge though wasn't the work.. oh no. I can handle the work load because whatever we don't get done is still there the next night. It's not hard to pick up where we left off and by the end of the week 99% of the time everything is done.
Below in the spoiler will be a pretty hefty rant of my experience involving what finally made me register my hard work means nothing. That we're simply replaceable fodder, and that our safety, no matter how much they plaster it as their priority, means nothing.

Back in January the area i live in experienced a pretty big storm. Didn't think much of it at the time, i've ridden my E-bike (my only source of transport) in storms before, even in the snow! But, unlike usual this storm had caused flash flooding. I had reached a particular point in the ride where I couldn't progress. The roads that legally allowed my bike to travel out of where I live had become flooded by nearly 6 inches of high speed water, with spots going as deep as a foot and more due to road conditions. Roads surrounding my route were also being slowly closed off as the storm continued and ubers were cancelling in the area (or outright rejecting rides due to the dangerous conditions.), making it progressively harder to get around. It was 10 minutes til work, and i still had 20 minutes to ride, and a 15 minute ride back home if something went wrong.
I pulled over at this intersection that was flooded and checked the news for the area. Local news networks labeled it a "local emergency", so i called it in, told my boss at night i wouldn't be able to make it due to the unsafe driving conditions and progressively worsening weather closing down major roads. He 'understood', told me it would not effect my points as it was a weather situation, and that several others were calling for similar problems. I returned home now soaked and the bike had to be carefully serviced to avoid any lasting damage from the heavy storm. Not a huge issue but annoying none the less.
Fast forward two weeks and i get brought into the office where the CXM and my boss are... and asked the famous line. "Do you know why you're back here?"
I truly had no idea, so i joked it off, I had won a recent raffle for 3 board-games, so I made the comment it was because I hadn't brought those home yet.
The CXM smiled, then said it was because i had received my 4th point for calling out without sick time. Now, mind you, I have no idea what's going on at this point. I knew i had missed 3 days (once in September, 2 times in october from bike issues leaving me on the road without a way in due to the battery dying.). So i asked where this 4th point was coming from. He mentions the day of the flood, my boss, who is keeping his mouth shut, looks away from me when he says this. At this point I sit down, rather miffed at this point because i was assured that it was okay due to it being a safety concern, and that others were calling out with similar issues without a problem.
I'm stunned at this point. Taking a seat at the wall, the night assistant manager closes the door behind me and the cxm begins to lay into me the normal spiel, about how they expect all workers to be punctual and that this was a writeup, and how i "needed to understand what was being said". The whole time he's smiling, I wasn't. I told him what I was told on the phone, that I was cleared due to the weather conditions and that a point wasn't on my record the last time i checked (which i was checking regularly the first week because i truly expected something like this to happen, and stopped checking 4 days prior to the meeting. This happened 2 weeks later on a Wednesday.) -The cxm says it doesn't matter what i'm told on the phone. And that I should have called an uber. -I told him that ubers were cancelling rides due to the roads closing. -He tells me to order a taxi instead then. Now. I'm getting riled up at this point. My leg it tapping, i'm clearly not happy, and the way the cxm is talking to me is actively pushing for a response like this as he continues to smile and REPEATS "do you understand why you're getting this write-up" over, and over, and over again. -The night shift boss is still not making eye contact with me. -So, I stare straight at the cxm and respond to his question. "I understand that I have 3 points, but the 4th point I do not agree with. I was told that I was okay, and that the local news had declared it an emergency. I do not agree with that fourth point." -They both look at me, and I continue to look directly at the cxm. I'm still pretty relaxed at this point even if i'm agitated mentally and tapping my foot. I just want to get back to work at this point because I know the cxm is on a power-trip based on his body language and how much he's smiling. However, it really shown when that smile went away at me saying that comment. The cxm folded his hands, his smile gone and said "look, you want me to be blunt? I don't care what you agree with, you just need to understand you're being written up for 4 points of missed work. I can't let you leave until you agree."
THAT shifted my whole mood. I went from calm, to alert. My foot stopped tapping, I sat back in the chair and I was glaring at the cxm at this point. I was LIVID. The night manager STILL wouldn't look at me, instead he was watching the cxm. So i stayed focused on him as well. I folded my arms, and gave my full attention to him.
He repeated "Do you understand why you're being given this formal write-up?" again, and I, again, said I didn't agree with it. He AGAIN said he didn't care what I agreed or thought was right. and he just needed me to agree with it. So. I said what he wanted me to say. "I understand i'm being written up for a point I don't agree with"
As if MOCKING me, he again repeats "do you understand you can't keep missing days like this?"
I stayed DEAD SILENT at this point, and he leaned forward and looked at me with a big ol' smile. and told me to "stop staring at me with that death-glare, it's not working on me, buddy"
I was fuming. I was NOT going to be treated like a tool like that for taking my own safety into consideration during a local emergency for the job to tell me I was still in the wrong TWO WEEKS AFTER the event happened.
I was forced to agree, because I was sick and tired of staring at him and getting nowhere. So i repeated the comment like a good little drone and left. God i wish i knew i could have commented in that signing page that i signed under protest, course I was so pissed off i doubt i'd have even realized where to write it if i had known. I signed the "admission of guilt" crap, and immediately went to speak to the main boss of the store. Took two more weeks to get ahold of him, and he agreed it sounded very unusual. Main boss went to HR with clarification on how to handle it because even he wasn't too sure on it.
Two weeks after that, i touched base with the main boss. AND HE AGREED THAT I HAD NOT DESERVED THAT POINT OR THE WRITEUP. HR had come back to him about it coming down to the manager who handles the call-out (in my case the night shift boss), and a second manager who confirms the callout. My only assumption is that my boss agreed and acknowledged it as a weather related incident, and the second manager, the cxm in this case, decided to over-rule that decision.
Every other manager I spoke to thought that point was bogus. THE MAIN BOSS said it was bogus, and HR agreed that it was a case-to-case issue due to their system not having anything concrete for localized weather emergencies (they only have it for snow/ice, and state emergencies.) but even our HR contact agreed that safety takes priority! So here I am, 3 months into this crap I didn't even deserve, all because this dude decided to swing his big-boy stick. Taking the proper channels to have it addressed, complaint sent in about the manager in question, and trying to do things by the book did nothing but hit me with a "well you didn't act fast enough so we can't fix it" response, because it took over a month to get it processed. On the plus side, since I explained the entire incident to the main boss of the store (including the response from the manager who was handling the write-up), He gave me his direct line and told me that if i EVER got caught in a major storm like that to let him know, and he'd be sure to clear the incident himself. So while it happened, the store boss pulled through and assured me it won't happen again since it was a situational decision based on whoever got the call-out to handle. The problem is that the one who made this a problem in the first place is still in a position to do said problem. And that, unfortunately, I am unable to address directly like this. It was untouched for almost 2 weeks, sent in as a point right at the end of the 2 week "edit" period, and then I'm written up a week after that, ensuring I had no way to fight it. This was, in all purposes, an abuse of power. But, i'm a drone. I'm only as strong as the voice of the rest of this cacophony, and that's why they keep everyone at eachothers' throats.

Like I said. It's a rant, so only pop it open if you want to see what triggered this message to begin with. It's the biggest frustration I've had in the many years working here that firmly got under my skin due to the way it was handled and how long it took to get properly addressed, for no other reason than to tell me it was too late to do anything about it. We're just numbers in this machine, readily replaceable and easily used to kick around in the name of "fun" for those in a position of power. Where the rules and regulations are waived so long as you're buddies with the other management, and those working hard and keeping to themselves are an easy source to dump the blame and pressure or exercise someone's "authority".

I normally have very typical and predictable PEM - starts with a sore throat, flu like symptoms, exhaustion and general malaise and happens when I over exert myself.
I am not able to exercise but can work from home (office type work). In the last 2 weeks, I’ve had really nasty sinus symptoms - terrible pain where my sinuses are, sore ear and again general malaise/tiredness.
Before I got cfs/me, maybe I would have concluded it was a cold and waited a few days for it to pass. Except, as we all know, our health is not normal and whatever this is is hanging around and not going away.
Weirdly, this is potentially the first time I’ve caught a virus since I’ve been formally diagnosed with CFS (I’m on Valtrex as I have HSV2 and it seems to keep most other illnesses away). But how do I know it is a cold or whether this could be a crash? If I have just picked up a virus, is it a case of just waiting a longer time for it to go away? It’s definitely been with me for almost 2 weeks now. My PEM hasn’t been triggered yet unless it has changed its nature!

Sore throat and very tired

LPRSilentGerd

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