Face numbness tingling dizziness drowsiness rapid pulse
i feel like im dying
2024.05.15 12:50 bananahaterz i feel like im dying
im dizzy tunnel vission my face is numb ear slight ringing, im really dizzy and hot bro i didnt taje my zoloft yesterdy i wanna think its anxiety bc my anxiety is extremely physical and always makes me think im dyinf but my heart rate is only 60 what the fuck i feel high without being high and withou the fun part bro what is goinf on with me
submitted by bananahaterz to Anxiety [link] [comments]
2024.05.15 11:39 sleepingtime12 Tapentadol 100mg: Unlocking the Secrets of Potent Pain Relief
 | Understanding Tapentadol 100mg: submitted by sleepingtime12 to u/sleepingtime12 [link] [comments] Tapentadol 100mg is a formidable weapon in the arsenal against pain. As an opioid analgesic, it operates by targeting the central nervous system to alter the perception and response to pain stimuli. Unlike traditional opioids, Tapentadol combines two mechanisms – mu-opioid receptor agonism and norepinephrine reuptake inhibition – offering a dual approach to pain management. https://preview.redd.it/ecoi0r649k0d1.png?width=500&format=png&auto=webp&s=6d795f2035e1b1bd601f3c65e103e1f46ab10556 The Versatility of Tapentadol 100mg:This mighty medication isn't limited to a single type of pain. It's a versatile solution for various pain scenarios:
Navigating Tapentadol 100mg Dosage:Proper dosing is essential for effective pain management and safety:
Precautions and Sidekick Side Effects:Every hero has its caveats, and Tapentadol is no exception:
Procuring Tapentadol 100mg Online:In today's digital age, convenience reigns supreme. When seeking Tapentadol online, ensure you embark on your quest with reputable companions:
Conclusion:With Tapentadol 100mg by your side, the journey towards pain relief becomes more manageable. By understanding its mechanisms, dosages, precautions, and online procurement, you can embark on a quest toward a life with less discomfort. Remember, Tapentadol is a potent ally, but like any hero, it must be respected and used responsibly. Let Tapentadol guide you toward a brighter, pain-free horizon. |
2024.05.15 11:21 Aussie_Endeavour Nature of Pokemon (55)
A fanfiction of The Nature of Predators by SpacePaladin15 https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/u19xpa/the_nature_of_predators/
Previous Prologue Next
Memory Transcription Subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps
Date [standardized Earth time]: August 21, 2136
Walking into the lab, we were welcomed by a Pokemon that looked oddly familiar to me, a pink creature with predatory eyes and small wings that looked completely vestigial. It wasn’t until I saw the Human inspecting a large screen embedded in the wall that I recognised them. Lilith and Sara, who were among the first Terrans to have visited Venlil Prime. Lilith, whose species was the ‘Clefable’ if I remember correctly, gestured for the three of us to come further into the lab.
“Hello there, thank you for coming so soon after settling in! It seems a lot of Venlil are quite excited to do the Infinity Energy tests.”
I give a slightly nervous ear flick in response.
“I uh, really just wanted to get this over and done with.”
“Right, well in that case you’ll be glad to know that this takes no time at all. It’ll be over before you know it, and you’ll have your exchange partners beside you through the whole process.”
I look up at Marcel and Felix, who both give me further reassuring glances. Marcel seems a little nervous though, awkwardly standing just in front of the door and obviously having no idea what he should be doing. As the Clefable leads me over to a chair and gestures for me to take a seat, she passes over a piece of paper and a pen.
“This is the consent form, please read it out completely and carefully before writing your basic information and signature.”
Lilith then bounds away to converse with Sara, who is still looking at the large screen teeming with strange writing and graphs. As I read through the consent form, I only grow more worried.
‘Permanent Infinity Energy infusion.’
‘Monitored for remainder of Space Corps service.’
‘Possibility of previously unknown side effects.’
I look over to Marcel and Felix, beckoning them over with a wave of my tail. Marcel kneels down beside the chair, bringing the three of us to roughly eye level as Felix rests on his shoulder.
“Sorry, but can you two just… stay close? This seems a bit more intense than I was expecting.”
Felix nods furiously, followed by Marcel giving a small, closed mouth smile.
“Of course, we’ll be right here.”
“After this is over, we can all get some food from the cafeteria. A nice salad or something, alright?”
The Human’s suggestion sounds nice, and my tail sways in agreement. I sign the form after reading through it a second time, and Lilith soon comes over to collect it. As she does so, I see Sara walking over with some wires and wool clips. She places them on a nearby table before turning to finally address me.
“Hello Mr Slanek, sorry for the wait. It’s just, the data we’ve gathered so far from the other Venlil is beyond fascinating. It's an amazing opportunity to investigate how life not native to Earth reacts with Infinity Energy and uh… you probably don’t care, sorry.”
With a lightly red hue showing in her cheeks, she grabs the wires and clips, and gets started on attaching them to various points on my body. From my knees to my paws, snout, ears, stomach, chest, tail… almost everywhere, really. This all only makes my nerves grow even more.
“Now, just as a warning, this will probably hurt a bit. It’s only for a moment though, and it just means that everything is working.”
As Sara attaches the last clip to the wool on my back, she walks back over to large screen on the opposite wall, which I am surprised to find now displays a wireframe model of myself. I notice my paws are beginning to shake slightly, and I turn towards my exchange partners, hoping to find solace. Not so long ago, I would never have even fathomed the idea of looking to predators for comfort, but now…
I reach out a shaking paw towards them. After hesitating for a moment, a look of surprise coming over his face, Marcel reaches out and takes hold of it. Felix scurries down the Human’s arm and places his own small paw on top of mine as Marcel gives it a gentle squeeze.
Turning back to the rest of the lab, Sara is swiping her hand to rotate the wireframe model of my body, while Lilith is retrieving something from a large, formerly locked box nearby. She pulls out a small yellow crystal, and walks back over to me. Sara sidles up beside her partner, and double checks the wire clips one last time as the Clefable holds out the crystal to me.
“This is a revive, which will inject Infinity Energy directly into you. Make sure you hold onto it tight, ok?”
I take a deep breath, giving Marcel’s hand and Felix’s paw a gentle squeeze as I do so.
“Understood.”
I reach out with my other paw, and grab onto the revive. For a moment, nothing happens, but then the revive begins to glow. I shut my eyes tight against the blinding light, and tighten my grip on the crystal. A strange sensation, like waves of pressure, emanate from where the revive touches my paw. Through my arm, across my chest, up my neck and down my navel un-
“BRAKH!”
I cry out as pain suddenly engulfs my snout and legs. A loud beeping noise comes from the clips attached to them, which I silently pray means that everything is working as it should. It feels like my legs are trying to rip themselves apart at the knees, and I understand instantly why I’m sat down for this. My snout too lights up, as if on fire without the heat, forcing me to grit my teeth until my jaw starts hurting as well from the preassure alone. I tighten my grip on both the revive and my partners. I feel weight shifting, and Felix’s paw disappears. Not a moment later, something warm and fuzzy jumps up onto the chair beside me, reaching up to rest a paw on my shoulder.
“It’s alright, we’re right here.”
I go to wrap my tail around him, only to find something strange. My tail has gone numb. The mixture of sensations, from numbness to pain, continues for a little while. As the revive breaks down into grey dust, I can finally open my eyes and unclench my teeth. Steadily, the searing pain fades, leaving my tail numb and my snout and legs sore. I breathe deeply again, and I turn my attention to Felix and Marcel. I retrieve my paw from Marcel’s grip and Felix hops back down from the chair. The Human reaches over to lightly pat me on the back.
“There we go, all over now. You did great, Slanek.”
“Th-thanks.”
Lilith comes over and begins detaching the clips from my wool, while Sara is already tapping away at the screen, the wireframe model of my body now looking very different than it was before. The majority of it is now coloured a stark white, although notably my snout and legs are a dimmer shade of muted grey. The only splash of actual colour is in my tail, the entire limb a vivid purple, most intense at the tip. After inspecting it for a moment, Sara turns back around to address me.
“Thank you for coming, Mr Slanek. The full results of this test will be sent to your holopad shortly, but I’ll give you the most important information now.”
Sara taps the screen a few times, and labels written in Venscript appear as a key for the colours.
White – Mixed
Violet – Poison
Grey – Unknown
“Your results are consistent with what we’ve seen in all the other Venlil that have been tested so far. Most of your body contain a mixture of all Types of IE, similar to Humans. Different Venlil seem to have the Poison IE concentrate in different areas of the body, I’ve seen it in arms, abdomen, throat, wool and elsewhere. For you it’s in the tail, which so far seems fairly common. The grey zones are the most interesting, as they’re in the same areas for each and every Venlil; the snout and legs. Combine that with how this energy isn’t quite Normal but also not Typeless, not to mention it’s almost complete lack of reactivity to external or internal stimuli… it will certainly be an area of research I'll happily dive into soon.”
As Sara explains the results of the test, Marcel helps me to stand up again. At first, I’m a little unsteady as my legs still feel slightly odd, but leaning on his arm helps. The numb feeling in my tail slowly fades, and I experimentally shake it back and forth a few times. There is… Poison in it? It doesn’t feel any different, at least at the moment. After Lilith and Sara once again thank me for my cooperation, the three of us are ushered out of the lab, left standing together in the hallway as another mini herd files in after us. I turn to look up at my companions, a slight bloom making its way onto my face.
“Hey, uh, sorry for what happened in there. To predators it’s probably a show of weakness to need someone sticking nearby but-”
“Okay, we’re nipping that ‘weakness’ shit in the bud right now.”
Felix’s surprising angry voice catches me off guard, and for a second I’m worried that I said something to make him mad. I realise that, in a way, I had… but not for the reason I thought.
“Needing a friend ain’t weakness, Slanek. Just look at Marc and I!”
Marcel smiles at the Buizel, before turning his gaze back down at me. His predatory gaze seems stern, and yet somehow friendly, despite that being essentially oxymoronic.
“Slanek, if I’ve learned anything from my time in the military, it’s that ‘weak’ and ‘strong’ are meaningless words in isolation. People can only reach their full potential when they have others lifting them up, whether they be a Human or Pokemon. I doubt Venlil are any different.”
Something flashes through my mind, a memory that Marcel's words invoked. Of course. One of the first pieces of Terran media I saw after First Contact; 'The Power of Us'. Felix nods along excitedly, jumping down from the Human's shoulder to be a bit closer to my level.
“Never call yourself weak again, alright? Marcel and I were already growing stronger with just the two of us, but now we have a brand-new friend? The three of us together will be unstoppable!”
Marcel snickers slightly.
“Not really the angle I was going for, but sure. Anyway, that packet of chips wasn't nearly enough. Like I said earlier, let’s go grab something from the cafeteria, alright?”
Seemingly immediately forgetting the previous topic, Felix’s eyes light up and his tails whir into action.
“Oh! I hope they have Wacan berries!”
As Felix rapidly ascends back up onto Marcel’s shoulder, my own tail begins to sway back and forth again. The predators’ kind words lifted my spirits and cast aside the embarrassment I had felt, spurring me to happily step forwards and follow the Human’s lead towards the station’s cafeteria.
As we made our way through the halls, I paid more attention to the various pairs and trios we passed. The Venlil all ranged from bubbling with excitement, a spring in their step as they walked joyfully beside their partners, to barely containing their fear, shaking slightly as they stuck close to the walls and avoided looking at most of the more predatory looking Pokemon. I wasn’t at either extreme, though I was leaning towards the former. I strode beside Marcel with contentment, mentally thanking my past self for signing up for the program. I was nervous to meet them at first, but it took almost no time at all for me to recognise the friends I had already been speaking to over text for whole herds of paws at this point.
When we reached the cafeteria, the place was already alive with many Terrans and Venlil. Some sat just with their exchange partners, while others gathered into larger herds, with the countless conversations happening between them melding together with the clinking of cutlery. Even out here on this station, with by far the strangest creatures in the Universe, the sound of people enjoying each other’s company was oh so familiar.
The three of us collected our meals and decided just to sit by ourselves, eventually finding a spot near a rather short Venlil sitting with a large, purple serpentine Pokemon that was presumably their partner. As Marcel and I set our meals down on the table, Felix quickly grabs a pastry from Marcel’s tray.
“I call dibs on the Wacan muffin!”
Marcel has selected some sort of soup for himself, while I chose a simple bunt leaf salad, although my serving seemed to have some sort of fruit in it that I didn’t recognise. I prodded the yellow chunks around, trying to determine if I had gotten some underripe juicefruit or something, catching Marcel’s attention.
“That’s Shuca berry. Not really my thing, but it’s decently popular.”
“Oh, it’s an Earth fruit?”
“Yep, looks like the kitchen’s experimenting with mixing cuisines. This soup is… surprisingly spicy.”
Looking up at the Human, I find that his face has turned a slight reddish hue, the flush no doubt signifying that he was struggling. A quick peek at the contents of his meal provides an answer, making me whistle slightly in laughter.
“Ah, that would be firefruit. Fitting name, isn’t it?”
“Fuck, you can say that again.”
As I watch my Human partner gulp down his glass of water, I pick up a few bunt leaves along with a small chunk of the Shuca berry and pop them in my mouth. The yellow fruit goes well with the bunt leaves, providing a mild but nice sweetness with the slightest kick of spice. Though, obviously not nearly as much as Marcel’s firefruit. The Human soon excuses himself to refill his water, Felix throwing a teasing quip his way between bites of the muffin.
“Fire Type doesn’t suit you, Marc!”
While trying to stifle my laughter at my friend’s misfortune, a slightly alarmed, raspy voice coming from my right catches my attention.
“Ssssevik, are you alright?”
Turning to my right, I find the large serpent Pokemon sitting nearby looking at her Venlil partner with concern. He is holding a paw over his stomach and groaning slightly.
“Y-yeah Arbok, I’m fi-fi -hurk-”
He gives a horrible sound somewhere between a burp and a retch, grabbing the attention of a few other people around us.
“Wassss it the berriesss?”
“N-no it’s -hurk- I think is the Pois- -hurk-“
Thinking quickly, one of the nearby Humans passes the Venlil a plastic bag. He accepts it and tries to thank them, only for his attempt to be interrupted by more retching. Just as he seems to lose control of his meal completely, he cries out.
“Gastro Acid!”
Instead of the typically yellowy green, the Venlil expels a thick, deep purple fluid into the bag. After a single powerful heave, the Venlil looks back up, seemingly slightly dizzy. A moment later, a sizzling sound can be heard coming from the bag, the bottom of which soon breaks. The acidic substance spills onto the floor, having corroded through the plastic like it was nothing. For a while, nobody makes a sound, nor barely moves. Venlil, Human and Pokemon alike in our little section of the cafeteria are all staring at the poor little Venlil who in turn has his eyes glued onto the now useless plastic bag. As for the purple acid, it soon fizzles away into nothing, leaving the floor spotless with no evidence that it ever existed.
The sound of approaching footsteps makes me turn around with a slight jump, finding Marcel returning with a new glass of water. His eyes dart first to the silent crowd, then to the small Venlil, then finally to me and Felix.
“Uh, did I miss something?”
Previous Prologue Next
~~~~~~~
Gojid - Steel/Rock
Normal /Poison
Zurulian - ???/???
Farsul - ???/???
Kolshian - ???/???
Yotul - ???/???
Mazic - ???/???
Dossur - ???/???
Sivkit - ???/???
Krakotl - Flying/???
Harchen - ???/???
Duertan - Flying/???
Thafki - Wate???
Sulean - ???/???
Iftali - ???/???
Drezjin - Flying/???
Jaur - ???/???
Letian - ???/???
Leshee - ???/???
Yulpa - ???/???
submitted by Aussie_Endeavour to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Previous Prologue Next
Memory Transcription Subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps
Date [standardized Earth time]: August 21, 2136
Walking into the lab, we were welcomed by a Pokemon that looked oddly familiar to me, a pink creature with predatory eyes and small wings that looked completely vestigial. It wasn’t until I saw the Human inspecting a large screen embedded in the wall that I recognised them. Lilith and Sara, who were among the first Terrans to have visited Venlil Prime. Lilith, whose species was the ‘Clefable’ if I remember correctly, gestured for the three of us to come further into the lab.
“Hello there, thank you for coming so soon after settling in! It seems a lot of Venlil are quite excited to do the Infinity Energy tests.”
I give a slightly nervous ear flick in response.
“I uh, really just wanted to get this over and done with.”
“Right, well in that case you’ll be glad to know that this takes no time at all. It’ll be over before you know it, and you’ll have your exchange partners beside you through the whole process.”
I look up at Marcel and Felix, who both give me further reassuring glances. Marcel seems a little nervous though, awkwardly standing just in front of the door and obviously having no idea what he should be doing. As the Clefable leads me over to a chair and gestures for me to take a seat, she passes over a piece of paper and a pen.
“This is the consent form, please read it out completely and carefully before writing your basic information and signature.”
Lilith then bounds away to converse with Sara, who is still looking at the large screen teeming with strange writing and graphs. As I read through the consent form, I only grow more worried.
‘Permanent Infinity Energy infusion.’
‘Monitored for remainder of Space Corps service.’
‘Possibility of previously unknown side effects.’
I look over to Marcel and Felix, beckoning them over with a wave of my tail. Marcel kneels down beside the chair, bringing the three of us to roughly eye level as Felix rests on his shoulder.
“Sorry, but can you two just… stay close? This seems a bit more intense than I was expecting.”
Felix nods furiously, followed by Marcel giving a small, closed mouth smile.
“Of course, we’ll be right here.”
“After this is over, we can all get some food from the cafeteria. A nice salad or something, alright?”
The Human’s suggestion sounds nice, and my tail sways in agreement. I sign the form after reading through it a second time, and Lilith soon comes over to collect it. As she does so, I see Sara walking over with some wires and wool clips. She places them on a nearby table before turning to finally address me.
“Hello Mr Slanek, sorry for the wait. It’s just, the data we’ve gathered so far from the other Venlil is beyond fascinating. It's an amazing opportunity to investigate how life not native to Earth reacts with Infinity Energy and uh… you probably don’t care, sorry.”
With a lightly red hue showing in her cheeks, she grabs the wires and clips, and gets started on attaching them to various points on my body. From my knees to my paws, snout, ears, stomach, chest, tail… almost everywhere, really. This all only makes my nerves grow even more.
“Now, just as a warning, this will probably hurt a bit. It’s only for a moment though, and it just means that everything is working.”
As Sara attaches the last clip to the wool on my back, she walks back over to large screen on the opposite wall, which I am surprised to find now displays a wireframe model of myself. I notice my paws are beginning to shake slightly, and I turn towards my exchange partners, hoping to find solace. Not so long ago, I would never have even fathomed the idea of looking to predators for comfort, but now…
I reach out a shaking paw towards them. After hesitating for a moment, a look of surprise coming over his face, Marcel reaches out and takes hold of it. Felix scurries down the Human’s arm and places his own small paw on top of mine as Marcel gives it a gentle squeeze.
Turning back to the rest of the lab, Sara is swiping her hand to rotate the wireframe model of my body, while Lilith is retrieving something from a large, formerly locked box nearby. She pulls out a small yellow crystal, and walks back over to me. Sara sidles up beside her partner, and double checks the wire clips one last time as the Clefable holds out the crystal to me.
“This is a revive, which will inject Infinity Energy directly into you. Make sure you hold onto it tight, ok?”
I take a deep breath, giving Marcel’s hand and Felix’s paw a gentle squeeze as I do so.
“Understood.”
I reach out with my other paw, and grab onto the revive. For a moment, nothing happens, but then the revive begins to glow. I shut my eyes tight against the blinding light, and tighten my grip on the crystal. A strange sensation, like waves of pressure, emanate from where the revive touches my paw. Through my arm, across my chest, up my neck and down my navel un-
“BRAKH!”
I cry out as pain suddenly engulfs my snout and legs. A loud beeping noise comes from the clips attached to them, which I silently pray means that everything is working as it should. It feels like my legs are trying to rip themselves apart at the knees, and I understand instantly why I’m sat down for this. My snout too lights up, as if on fire without the heat, forcing me to grit my teeth until my jaw starts hurting as well from the preassure alone. I tighten my grip on both the revive and my partners. I feel weight shifting, and Felix’s paw disappears. Not a moment later, something warm and fuzzy jumps up onto the chair beside me, reaching up to rest a paw on my shoulder.
“It’s alright, we’re right here.”
I go to wrap my tail around him, only to find something strange. My tail has gone numb. The mixture of sensations, from numbness to pain, continues for a little while. As the revive breaks down into grey dust, I can finally open my eyes and unclench my teeth. Steadily, the searing pain fades, leaving my tail numb and my snout and legs sore. I breathe deeply again, and I turn my attention to Felix and Marcel. I retrieve my paw from Marcel’s grip and Felix hops back down from the chair. The Human reaches over to lightly pat me on the back.
“There we go, all over now. You did great, Slanek.”
“Th-thanks.”
Lilith comes over and begins detaching the clips from my wool, while Sara is already tapping away at the screen, the wireframe model of my body now looking very different than it was before. The majority of it is now coloured a stark white, although notably my snout and legs are a dimmer shade of muted grey. The only splash of actual colour is in my tail, the entire limb a vivid purple, most intense at the tip. After inspecting it for a moment, Sara turns back around to address me.
“Thank you for coming, Mr Slanek. The full results of this test will be sent to your holopad shortly, but I’ll give you the most important information now.”
Sara taps the screen a few times, and labels written in Venscript appear as a key for the colours.
White – Mixed
Violet – Poison
Grey – Unknown
“Your results are consistent with what we’ve seen in all the other Venlil that have been tested so far. Most of your body contain a mixture of all Types of IE, similar to Humans. Different Venlil seem to have the Poison IE concentrate in different areas of the body, I’ve seen it in arms, abdomen, throat, wool and elsewhere. For you it’s in the tail, which so far seems fairly common. The grey zones are the most interesting, as they’re in the same areas for each and every Venlil; the snout and legs. Combine that with how this energy isn’t quite Normal but also not Typeless, not to mention it’s almost complete lack of reactivity to external or internal stimuli… it will certainly be an area of research I'll happily dive into soon.”
As Sara explains the results of the test, Marcel helps me to stand up again. At first, I’m a little unsteady as my legs still feel slightly odd, but leaning on his arm helps. The numb feeling in my tail slowly fades, and I experimentally shake it back and forth a few times. There is… Poison in it? It doesn’t feel any different, at least at the moment. After Lilith and Sara once again thank me for my cooperation, the three of us are ushered out of the lab, left standing together in the hallway as another mini herd files in after us. I turn to look up at my companions, a slight bloom making its way onto my face.
“Hey, uh, sorry for what happened in there. To predators it’s probably a show of weakness to need someone sticking nearby but-”
“Okay, we’re nipping that ‘weakness’ shit in the bud right now.”
Felix’s surprising angry voice catches me off guard, and for a second I’m worried that I said something to make him mad. I realise that, in a way, I had… but not for the reason I thought.
“Needing a friend ain’t weakness, Slanek. Just look at Marc and I!”
Marcel smiles at the Buizel, before turning his gaze back down at me. His predatory gaze seems stern, and yet somehow friendly, despite that being essentially oxymoronic.
“Slanek, if I’ve learned anything from my time in the military, it’s that ‘weak’ and ‘strong’ are meaningless words in isolation. People can only reach their full potential when they have others lifting them up, whether they be a Human or Pokemon. I doubt Venlil are any different.”
Something flashes through my mind, a memory that Marcel's words invoked. Of course. One of the first pieces of Terran media I saw after First Contact; 'The Power of Us'. Felix nods along excitedly, jumping down from the Human's shoulder to be a bit closer to my level.
“Never call yourself weak again, alright? Marcel and I were already growing stronger with just the two of us, but now we have a brand-new friend? The three of us together will be unstoppable!”
Marcel snickers slightly.
“Not really the angle I was going for, but sure. Anyway, that packet of chips wasn't nearly enough. Like I said earlier, let’s go grab something from the cafeteria, alright?”
Seemingly immediately forgetting the previous topic, Felix’s eyes light up and his tails whir into action.
“Oh! I hope they have Wacan berries!”
As Felix rapidly ascends back up onto Marcel’s shoulder, my own tail begins to sway back and forth again. The predators’ kind words lifted my spirits and cast aside the embarrassment I had felt, spurring me to happily step forwards and follow the Human’s lead towards the station’s cafeteria.
As we made our way through the halls, I paid more attention to the various pairs and trios we passed. The Venlil all ranged from bubbling with excitement, a spring in their step as they walked joyfully beside their partners, to barely containing their fear, shaking slightly as they stuck close to the walls and avoided looking at most of the more predatory looking Pokemon. I wasn’t at either extreme, though I was leaning towards the former. I strode beside Marcel with contentment, mentally thanking my past self for signing up for the program. I was nervous to meet them at first, but it took almost no time at all for me to recognise the friends I had already been speaking to over text for whole herds of paws at this point.
When we reached the cafeteria, the place was already alive with many Terrans and Venlil. Some sat just with their exchange partners, while others gathered into larger herds, with the countless conversations happening between them melding together with the clinking of cutlery. Even out here on this station, with by far the strangest creatures in the Universe, the sound of people enjoying each other’s company was oh so familiar.
The three of us collected our meals and decided just to sit by ourselves, eventually finding a spot near a rather short Venlil sitting with a large, purple serpentine Pokemon that was presumably their partner. As Marcel and I set our meals down on the table, Felix quickly grabs a pastry from Marcel’s tray.
“I call dibs on the Wacan muffin!”
Marcel has selected some sort of soup for himself, while I chose a simple bunt leaf salad, although my serving seemed to have some sort of fruit in it that I didn’t recognise. I prodded the yellow chunks around, trying to determine if I had gotten some underripe juicefruit or something, catching Marcel’s attention.
“That’s Shuca berry. Not really my thing, but it’s decently popular.”
“Oh, it’s an Earth fruit?”
“Yep, looks like the kitchen’s experimenting with mixing cuisines. This soup is… surprisingly spicy.”
Looking up at the Human, I find that his face has turned a slight reddish hue, the flush no doubt signifying that he was struggling. A quick peek at the contents of his meal provides an answer, making me whistle slightly in laughter.
“Ah, that would be firefruit. Fitting name, isn’t it?”
“Fuck, you can say that again.”
As I watch my Human partner gulp down his glass of water, I pick up a few bunt leaves along with a small chunk of the Shuca berry and pop them in my mouth. The yellow fruit goes well with the bunt leaves, providing a mild but nice sweetness with the slightest kick of spice. Though, obviously not nearly as much as Marcel’s firefruit. The Human soon excuses himself to refill his water, Felix throwing a teasing quip his way between bites of the muffin.
“Fire Type doesn’t suit you, Marc!”
While trying to stifle my laughter at my friend’s misfortune, a slightly alarmed, raspy voice coming from my right catches my attention.
“Ssssevik, are you alright?”
Turning to my right, I find the large serpent Pokemon sitting nearby looking at her Venlil partner with concern. He is holding a paw over his stomach and groaning slightly.
“Y-yeah Arbok, I’m fi-fi -hurk-”
He gives a horrible sound somewhere between a burp and a retch, grabbing the attention of a few other people around us.
“Wassss it the berriesss?”
“N-no it’s -hurk- I think is the Pois- -hurk-“
Thinking quickly, one of the nearby Humans passes the Venlil a plastic bag. He accepts it and tries to thank them, only for his attempt to be interrupted by more retching. Just as he seems to lose control of his meal completely, he cries out.
“Gastro Acid!”
Instead of the typically yellowy green, the Venlil expels a thick, deep purple fluid into the bag. After a single powerful heave, the Venlil looks back up, seemingly slightly dizzy. A moment later, a sizzling sound can be heard coming from the bag, the bottom of which soon breaks. The acidic substance spills onto the floor, having corroded through the plastic like it was nothing. For a while, nobody makes a sound, nor barely moves. Venlil, Human and Pokemon alike in our little section of the cafeteria are all staring at the poor little Venlil who in turn has his eyes glued onto the now useless plastic bag. As for the purple acid, it soon fizzles away into nothing, leaving the floor spotless with no evidence that it ever existed.
The sound of approaching footsteps makes me turn around with a slight jump, finding Marcel returning with a new glass of water. His eyes dart first to the silent crowd, then to the small Venlil, then finally to me and Felix.
“Uh, did I miss something?”
Previous Prologue Next
~~~~~~~
NoPokedex
Humans - TypelessGojid - Steel/Rock
- Sovlin: Metal Claw & Rollout
- Kam: ??? & Poison Jab
- Slanek: ??? & ???
- Isif: Dragon Pulse & ???
Zurulian - ???/???
Farsul - ???/???
Kolshian - ???/???
Yotul - ???/???
Mazic - ???/???
Dossur - ???/???
Sivkit - ???/???
Krakotl - Flying/???
Harchen - ???/???
Duertan - Flying/???
Thafki - Wate???
Sulean - ???/???
Iftali - ???/???
Drezjin - Flying/???
Jaur - ???/???
Letian - ???/???
Leshee - ???/???
Yulpa - ???/???
2024.05.15 08:42 Neverlannnd93 Newly diagnosed. Now what?
Hi All,
30yo female, uk
Last year I had a big trauma in the form of a minor health problem that was misdiagnosed/mistreated to the point where it became chronic (took 6 months to get rid of a sinus infection and I'm now on a wait list to potentially have surgery on my ear since that hasn't resolved).
I started off with tingling in my hands and feet that quickly spread to my entire body including parts of my mouth. This is a 24/7 symptom. I've had periods where I experience numbness (normally in my calf, wrist but the main place it flares in my face) but I still habe sensation like running a hairbrush off the numb patch i still feel it and if it's in my face I can still move my muscles etc. I've also had headaches that go on for about a week but both those seem to be more like flare ups and eventually they go. My more recent symptom is sharp shooting pains that are more intermittent and again seem go be all over (like i'll be chilling and it'll jolt in my wrist or part of my thigh). I put this down to the condition since it came on in the lead up to my finally having my neurology appointment so naturally i was really stressed and scared.
I've had extensive private bloods, as well as many public healthcare ones over the past year and all that was picked up was iron and vit d deficienes which are resolved now. I had a private MRI of my spine and brain as it was suspected MS and that came back normal as well.
Coming up to a month since my neurologist appointment where I was officially diagnosed with FND. He was very validating and had clearly really taken the time to read my notes etc from the fact some of the questions he asked had info in that I hadn't present to him myself. I had my millionth functional physical neuro tests and they were normal again. As it seems to be moreso sensory for me, i've just been given a neurophsycology referral and discharged from neurology and i had no date of when i'm gonna be seen.
I'm already in private therapy and she's helping me manage anxiety and work on redirection to just start getting my life back a bit.
I joined one FND forum and got really upset because it was a lot of people just telling me i've been misdiagnosed and it's xyz etc but for me it just seems like the right diagnosis. Also made my symptoms flare more.
It just really sucks that it seems you're given a diagnosis then left with nothing other than "find a support group in the meantime." I'm just scared of the possibility of ignoring a new symptom (like the shooty i have now) cause situationally i can pin it on stress and fnd and it turns out i'm ignoring something bigger.
Hope you lovely lot can provide ways to help me manage and hopefully some of you have experienced the same as me.
submitted by Neverlannnd93 to FND [link] [comments]
30yo female, uk
Last year I had a big trauma in the form of a minor health problem that was misdiagnosed/mistreated to the point where it became chronic (took 6 months to get rid of a sinus infection and I'm now on a wait list to potentially have surgery on my ear since that hasn't resolved).
I started off with tingling in my hands and feet that quickly spread to my entire body including parts of my mouth. This is a 24/7 symptom. I've had periods where I experience numbness (normally in my calf, wrist but the main place it flares in my face) but I still habe sensation like running a hairbrush off the numb patch i still feel it and if it's in my face I can still move my muscles etc. I've also had headaches that go on for about a week but both those seem to be more like flare ups and eventually they go. My more recent symptom is sharp shooting pains that are more intermittent and again seem go be all over (like i'll be chilling and it'll jolt in my wrist or part of my thigh). I put this down to the condition since it came on in the lead up to my finally having my neurology appointment so naturally i was really stressed and scared.
I've had extensive private bloods, as well as many public healthcare ones over the past year and all that was picked up was iron and vit d deficienes which are resolved now. I had a private MRI of my spine and brain as it was suspected MS and that came back normal as well.
Coming up to a month since my neurologist appointment where I was officially diagnosed with FND. He was very validating and had clearly really taken the time to read my notes etc from the fact some of the questions he asked had info in that I hadn't present to him myself. I had my millionth functional physical neuro tests and they were normal again. As it seems to be moreso sensory for me, i've just been given a neurophsycology referral and discharged from neurology and i had no date of when i'm gonna be seen.
I'm already in private therapy and she's helping me manage anxiety and work on redirection to just start getting my life back a bit.
I joined one FND forum and got really upset because it was a lot of people just telling me i've been misdiagnosed and it's xyz etc but for me it just seems like the right diagnosis. Also made my symptoms flare more.
It just really sucks that it seems you're given a diagnosis then left with nothing other than "find a support group in the meantime." I'm just scared of the possibility of ignoring a new symptom (like the shooty i have now) cause situationally i can pin it on stress and fnd and it turns out i'm ignoring something bigger.
Hope you lovely lot can provide ways to help me manage and hopefully some of you have experienced the same as me.
2024.05.15 08:07 Purplesocksb9 My Journey So Far/Neck Pain
So I've been having having migraine like symptoms since December. It started with visual distortions and floaters when I was I used my gaming PC (strangely, not my phone or my work PC). So in January I got an eye exam. Nothing may be warning signs for future glacoma, but it is nothing to worry about.
February, I started having episodes of pulsatile tinnitus in my right ear. March, I went through a round of antibiotics for ear infection and ended up at an ENT because the PT had only gotten worse. Got a normal hearing test result. Then I had an episode where I had tingling/numbness and throbbing in the right side of my face and arm my tinnitus went crazy. They did a CT scan of my head and neck. There was no sign of stroke. They referred me to a neurologist. April, I see the neurologist who orders an MRI of my brain (also came back normal), and at my last appointment, she says it's definitely migraines. She tries to get my on Topamax. My insurance refused to cover the meds for an entire month. During that time, I realized that all of that pain is centered around my neck. I can not lay down. I can not sleep more than 2 to 3 hours a night.
The tinnitus gets worse and even becomes painful if I become vertical. I tried suggesting to my neurologist that this might be a neck/disc issue but she told me it would be a waste of time to go to my orthopedic doctor (I have cerebral palsy so I have an orthopedic doctor already) because I needed to accept this is migraines. But this is starting to destroy my quality of life and affect my work. I'm incredibly physically and emotionally exhausted.
One of the things that hurt the most from my last appointment is hearing my neurologist say the goal was goal was eliminating only 50% of pain. Which is only getting worse with the increasing constant neausa, sensitivity to computer light, feeling like my eyes sre going to explode, irritability, and the PT which has become permanent at this point and the inability to do anything I enjoy. She managed to get me on Topiramite finally, and I have been on it for 2 weeks so far, but it hasn't touched any of my symptoms.
submitted by Purplesocksb9 to migraine [link] [comments]
February, I started having episodes of pulsatile tinnitus in my right ear. March, I went through a round of antibiotics for ear infection and ended up at an ENT because the PT had only gotten worse. Got a normal hearing test result. Then I had an episode where I had tingling/numbness and throbbing in the right side of my face and arm my tinnitus went crazy. They did a CT scan of my head and neck. There was no sign of stroke. They referred me to a neurologist. April, I see the neurologist who orders an MRI of my brain (also came back normal), and at my last appointment, she says it's definitely migraines. She tries to get my on Topamax. My insurance refused to cover the meds for an entire month. During that time, I realized that all of that pain is centered around my neck. I can not lay down. I can not sleep more than 2 to 3 hours a night.
The tinnitus gets worse and even becomes painful if I become vertical. I tried suggesting to my neurologist that this might be a neck/disc issue but she told me it would be a waste of time to go to my orthopedic doctor (I have cerebral palsy so I have an orthopedic doctor already) because I needed to accept this is migraines. But this is starting to destroy my quality of life and affect my work. I'm incredibly physically and emotionally exhausted.
One of the things that hurt the most from my last appointment is hearing my neurologist say the goal was goal was eliminating only 50% of pain. Which is only getting worse with the increasing constant neausa, sensitivity to computer light, feeling like my eyes sre going to explode, irritability, and the PT which has become permanent at this point and the inability to do anything I enjoy. She managed to get me on Topiramite finally, and I have been on it for 2 weeks so far, but it hasn't touched any of my symptoms.
2024.05.15 05:53 PlantHerald Almost died from a "pinched nerve"
So about half a year ago while I (27 AFAB at the time) was at work my arm began tingling. It happened while I was crocheting so I attributed it to poor posture but took note of the time (just after 3pm) and continued working until 5pm. By the time I got off work my pinky and ring finger on my right hand became difficult to use. I drove home (hindsight this was really stupid of me to do) and an hour later when it hadn't gotten better I asked my brother to take me to the ER.
While there I told them that given the symptoms I was having (numbness on one side, and partial paralysis) and that I had started a new birth control a month prior that I was worried about the possibility of a stroke. They checked for the more obvious signs of stroke (facial droop, delayed eye dilation, blood tests, etc.) and noted that I had weakness in my right arm as well as tachycardia. They asked my brother about my behavior and if I was acting off, which he said I was not.
When the blood tests came back they informed me that my d-dimer was elevated. I wasn't told how much it was elevated. They referred me to CT to check for a pulmonary embolism. CT showed a normal healthy chest and I was sent home with a diagnosis of pinched ulnar nerve.
Over the next two days I proceeded to be incapable of eating or drinking anything, if I slept it was not for more than an hour at a time and I woke up in a cold sweat. My arm went from tingly and partially paralyzed to dead meat attached to my body. I could not move it, and could only lift at the shoulder. I woke my brother up at 3am to take me back to the ER. I informed them of the new symptoms, as well as the worsening of the previous symptoms.
This time it felt very dismissive. I was not being heard. I got sent to MRI to check again for a pulmonary embolism which again showed nothing. I told them I felt like I had really bad brain fog and my arm felt like it was in ice water. I was told this was normal for a pinched ulnar nerve. They gave me nerve glides to do, a prescription for 600mg of ibuprofen, and a referral to a neurologist. I asked them before I left if it was a good idea to fly as I had a vacation starting the next day, I was told it was fine.
So I went on my vacation, flying from one coast of the US to the other. It was 7hrs after I landed and was picked up from the airport where it started to go downhill and rapidly.
I still couldn't eat, and I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep so I bummed a gummy off a friend and started getting ready to go to bed. After this is a complete haze for me but I will list the events as I was later told:
In the few hours after the medical staff learned I was actually with it. I was informed not only that I had a stroke, but that I had a rare form of stroke. It was a Cerebral Venous Sinus Thrombosis. They were shocked that the previous hospital had not continued to look for something and dismissed me. I was then informed that my d-dimer was 1.03 (where a 0.50 was the maximum threshold for a normal d-dimer), my glucose upon being admitted was severely elevated, and they didn't know how bad it was because they had not yet been able to get a clear image of my brain.
Throughout my ICU stay I learned I was extremely lucky to be alive, you can't trust every doctor, and to always be accompanied by someone who will advocate for you. Also birth control sucks and my friends are amazing.
I spent my 28th birthday in the ER.
I now live in the state where I was finally diagnosed properly and I am communicating with a lawyer for a malpractice lawsuit. I have had up to 20 appointments a month just for things related to my stroke and am coming to terms with things that just might not get better. I'm taking 4 different medications for the after affects of the stroke, and I might just have to remain on 3 of them as it's possible I now have an epileptic disorder. We wont know for sure until my brain is given more time to heal but my recent EEG still shows abnormal brain activity.
I think overall I have a pretty solid case, especially given the shock of the paralegal as I explained what happened. But sometimes I second guess it and it worries me.
submitted by PlantHerald to MedicalMalpractice [link] [comments]
While there I told them that given the symptoms I was having (numbness on one side, and partial paralysis) and that I had started a new birth control a month prior that I was worried about the possibility of a stroke. They checked for the more obvious signs of stroke (facial droop, delayed eye dilation, blood tests, etc.) and noted that I had weakness in my right arm as well as tachycardia. They asked my brother about my behavior and if I was acting off, which he said I was not.
When the blood tests came back they informed me that my d-dimer was elevated. I wasn't told how much it was elevated. They referred me to CT to check for a pulmonary embolism. CT showed a normal healthy chest and I was sent home with a diagnosis of pinched ulnar nerve.
Over the next two days I proceeded to be incapable of eating or drinking anything, if I slept it was not for more than an hour at a time and I woke up in a cold sweat. My arm went from tingly and partially paralyzed to dead meat attached to my body. I could not move it, and could only lift at the shoulder. I woke my brother up at 3am to take me back to the ER. I informed them of the new symptoms, as well as the worsening of the previous symptoms.
This time it felt very dismissive. I was not being heard. I got sent to MRI to check again for a pulmonary embolism which again showed nothing. I told them I felt like I had really bad brain fog and my arm felt like it was in ice water. I was told this was normal for a pinched ulnar nerve. They gave me nerve glides to do, a prescription for 600mg of ibuprofen, and a referral to a neurologist. I asked them before I left if it was a good idea to fly as I had a vacation starting the next day, I was told it was fine.
So I went on my vacation, flying from one coast of the US to the other. It was 7hrs after I landed and was picked up from the airport where it started to go downhill and rapidly.
I still couldn't eat, and I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep so I bummed a gummy off a friend and started getting ready to go to bed. After this is a complete haze for me but I will list the events as I was later told:
- While walking to bed I blacked out. This was me dropping while I had my first tonic-clonic seizure of the night. My friend miraculously caught me and made sure I didn't hit my head, while my other friend took charge of the situation.
- My seizure lasted approximately 2 minutes, and when it looked like I was coming out of my postictal state pretty quickly they decided to drive me to the ER
- At the ER I had another seizure while they were taking me to get a CT scan of my brain. After this I was taken to MRI. I was considered medically confused and was incapable of staying still. I was given two doses of Ativan to try to keep me still long enough to get something from the MRI
- MRI was sent to a neurologist at another hospital who was able to see on the VERY blurry images that I was having a stroke. She teleconferenced in to assess my state, asking the nurse to essentially check if I was brain dead. My friend who was with me the entire time was the one to actually wake me up.
- I was then transferred to a bigger hospital's ICU for care when I was stable.
In the few hours after the medical staff learned I was actually with it. I was informed not only that I had a stroke, but that I had a rare form of stroke. It was a Cerebral Venous Sinus Thrombosis. They were shocked that the previous hospital had not continued to look for something and dismissed me. I was then informed that my d-dimer was 1.03 (where a 0.50 was the maximum threshold for a normal d-dimer), my glucose upon being admitted was severely elevated, and they didn't know how bad it was because they had not yet been able to get a clear image of my brain.
Throughout my ICU stay I learned I was extremely lucky to be alive, you can't trust every doctor, and to always be accompanied by someone who will advocate for you. Also birth control sucks and my friends are amazing.
I spent my 28th birthday in the ER.
I now live in the state where I was finally diagnosed properly and I am communicating with a lawyer for a malpractice lawsuit. I have had up to 20 appointments a month just for things related to my stroke and am coming to terms with things that just might not get better. I'm taking 4 different medications for the after affects of the stroke, and I might just have to remain on 3 of them as it's possible I now have an epileptic disorder. We wont know for sure until my brain is given more time to heal but my recent EEG still shows abnormal brain activity.
I think overall I have a pretty solid case, especially given the shock of the paralegal as I explained what happened. But sometimes I second guess it and it worries me.
2024.05.15 05:46 Magnetik12 Is it GERD or not GERD
Hey everyone, I’ve finally turned to the Reddit community. I’m not sure where’s the best place to post this but there is an element of GERD and is very likely and a root cause for at least a large portion of it so will try here first. Apologies for how lengthy it is.
I’m a M38, obese through childhood and young adulthood, hypertension since teens that was treated with metoprolol (had palpitations as well) and even high cholesterol that was finally treated with statin in early twenties. Around the age of 25 I took last 2 years to lose about 150 pounds going from 360 to 210, (all natural from diet and exercise).
Shortly after this, I started getting one side numbness and tingling, rate headaches, and sometimes along with or separately bouts of chest pain and palpitations, sweating, hot flashes, left shoulder pain, arm pain, dizziness. This lead to a decade long investigation that lead to no real solution. Countless stress tests, echo/ekg, holters, blood work, head and neck MRIs, dopplers, EEGs, etc, no real diagnosis was made. The only thing that change was about 2 years after switched from metoprolol to losartan, as it was more appropriate now after the weight loss, which a doc thought was just the right thing to do and had no explanation for my symptoms otherwise. No more rate control since 2015.
Ultimately, after 10 years of this… For the neurological symptoms, it was a deemed hemiplegic or basilar migraines, with aura, with or without headache. I was told hey, it hasn’t killed you yet, so that alone tells us at least it’s not fatal. For the cardiac symptoms, anxiety or some type health anxiety, or something in the psych realm was deemed the culprit. I was told it’s best you ignore it, or jump on a medley of different drugs, which I was told likely won’t benefit me. Imagine having to live with all this, and being told by doctors to essentially ignore it all. I asked the crucial question, at least to me, that I’ll go ahead and listen to their advice, but what is my threshold? At what point am I to rush to an ER? Most people would run to one if they had these symptoms, as neuro could be stroke, and cardiac could be heart attack. They had no answer for this. After this decade long hunt, I spent a year in misery, personal issues, my blood pressure medications was doubled in dose after a breakup, then doubled again 2 weeks later (it was stressful), all during Covid year 2020. Unfortunately over the decade I slowly gained back 100 of the weight I had lost. Back 290 pounds. During this year I lost 30 of it again, down to 260 In 2021, I had pretty crazy bout of chest pain, and was offered do a coronary CTA, came back completely clean. No obstruction at all in vessels, and zero calcium score. This was reassuring enough to me at least cardiac wise I can rest easy(to some degree). For the neuro side, CGRP antagonist was on the table to try, but it would just be throwing medications at it, along with gabapentin and topamax as options. The latter were tried, but were not tolerated at all. In 2022, I had my first bout with covid, moderate, it left its lingering symptoms (which are hard to discern as I had a large amount of the symptoms of long covid for years before this too) An endoscopy was done. As a GI doc said since you’ve been having such a long list of symptoms for so long, let’s explore the GI route since you’ve ruled out the rest from what it seems. Endoscopy found a small hiatal hernia. And the trail went cold. Can a small one perhaps cause such symptoms?
Which brings us to the most current situation. March of 2023 I decided to do the stationary bike, high resistance and high effort for 30 minutes with HR at about 130, then 5 more minutes I ramped up effort even more to HR of 150. Towards the last minute or two o started getting chest pain. I obviously should have stopped but I figured hey I get some type of pain like this time to time let’s just hit the 35 minute mark. Big mistake.
When I stopped, the pain persisted. And took a while to get better. Like an hour or so. And it felt different than anything I’ve felt before. Felt radiating to arm and jaw. By nightfall it was fine, next morning it all started again when I got out of bed. I wish I had gone to ER so at least they’d run some tests on the spot. I contacted my cardiologist, who I saw four days later. He said there’s nothing to be done, even though I told him these are different symptoms, and seem to come from exertion. He offered me a repeat of the CT or a trip to the cath lab. I let him decide and he went with CT since it was non invasive.
2 weeks later I got the test done, and this time they found a 10% Non calcified plaque in the proximal LAD, the calcium score still zero. He said this doesn’t explain your symptoms, but since we have evidence of CAD, you have to be put on aspirin 81. Additionally, he offered Ranexa, as he thought maybe this could be microvascular disease. Ultimately he did not believe this to be new and different like I’ve been saying and jumbled it all into the last 15 years or so. No enzymes got tested, which I really wish had been.
*****I now had this exertional left arm pain, wrist pain on the outside, numbness, chest pain, pressure, dizziness, jaw pain, pain behind left ear, left side of neck headache, bouts of nausea and sweating, shortness of breath even. This was all way worse than what I used to deal with. And different too
My pcp advised against his trial medicine, as it has a very little success and plenty of adverse effects. Days past by, no improvement, I’m getting these symptoms on the daily. An incident 3 months later in summer after swift walk to the car after eat a large cookie (I include that because maybe it was GI?). For hours I felt tingly in the chest, light headed, just confused. My girlfriend even noticed I just seemed out of it. Chest felt tight and painful. It eventually got better many hours later.
Mid summer I went for a pulmonary consult, at my doc’s behest, only for this doc to rush me to an er on suspicion of an aortic dissection. They did a full CTA of head neck chest abdomen and pelvis….. nothing but unnecessary radiation and contrast exposure.
Late summer I had a week of sweating and light headed ness, now 6 months out from the exercise incident from March. I went to another cardiologist, who had no idea why my pressure was suddenly 90/60 (literally no changes have been made). I was told to cut my medication dose in half. Could this be due to the contrast from the CT earlier??
He ordered a stress test, my first one since then, which came back subpar 6-7 minutes only but I did hit the target rate. I may have called quits 1 minute or 2 early as I saw my blood pressure skyrocketing. It was considered a normal test regardless. That night I had the worst left arm pain lasting hours, but I was told there’s no explanation. I did start getting very intense headaches, ones that I still get
Interestingly, 1 month later, my blood pressure was suddenly now high, 150/80. Suddenly. no explanation why it was low then, and none for why it’s high now. We went back to regular dose of the medication.
I got a neuro consult again to see if it could all connect, autonomic testing was done for dysautonomia, came back normal. Back to Square 1 again.
In the fall of 2023 I tried a bout of PPI as all docs were pushing for this , nothing changed, but it did help with the occasional heartburn I got. I even gave a month try to benzodiazepine as to rule out psych causes, and then tried an Ssri for 2 months. Nothing, other than sedation.
This new year I caved and started metoprolol again. I was told maybe it will help if it’s microvascular disease. It wasn’t exactly indicated but at this point I was willing OT try it all. Initially it had some benefit I think, then dose was doubled in February but not much changed. I still take it presently, as my base HR had recently been higher than normal anyways.
In these last few months, all of this persists. And subjectively I think it’s getting worse. I’ve been feeling cold for months, but then feel like sweat at the same time (not drenched just clamy). Get bouts of nausea even at rest. All of the cardiac symptoms episodic pain dizziness with chest shoulder jaw back neck ear, etc all still there. Even from left arm it runs down like into the palm and pinky. I even get them during sex I just power through. Stressful moments also incite them. I cannot say for sure, but possibly food or spicy food can do it as well.
My cardiologists still believe nothing is new here, even though it feels completely different to me after that exercise incident. They suggest coping as is, or going in for another coronary CTA, or finally take a trip to a cath lab. Essentially they say objectively they see nothing, but if I keep complaining those are the best routes.( I was offered nitro as well but scared to take it) My neuro says unlikely they are related, but it they could be to the possible migraines. At least the new headaches. There’s some possible link with migraine and chest pain. Only way to know is try a cgrp. He’s going with Qulipta. My GI doc says it could be vagus nerve related, and/or esophageal, so let’s try a TCA, amitriptyline. I’ve also been suggested to try a higher dose of Xan.
——— I have no idea which trail to follow????
My labs are normal, -except CRP (I believe around 40 if I recall correctly) which is often elevated, -hsCRP of 1.8 which was moderate risk category, -and CPK which is often high as well around 400 but my docs blame it on statin use or maybe exercise (idk about that no one entertains it as cardiac but they must have their reasons)
I really don’t want to sit on all this and find out later I didn’t take the action necessary. I’m afraid of something serious happening. And daily this is interfering with my life.
My concern is maybe during that exercise I did something. Initially was concerned about damage from really high blood pressure during, coronary dissection maybe? Something else damaged? Or something missed? Did I make something worse? Does anyone think it’s all related to my past symptoms?
What could have happened with this exercise incident??
Any input, advice, suggestions, similar stories, appreciated.
If you made it this far. Thank you so much for reading. Take care.
submitted by Magnetik12 to GERD [link] [comments]
I’m a M38, obese through childhood and young adulthood, hypertension since teens that was treated with metoprolol (had palpitations as well) and even high cholesterol that was finally treated with statin in early twenties. Around the age of 25 I took last 2 years to lose about 150 pounds going from 360 to 210, (all natural from diet and exercise).
Shortly after this, I started getting one side numbness and tingling, rate headaches, and sometimes along with or separately bouts of chest pain and palpitations, sweating, hot flashes, left shoulder pain, arm pain, dizziness. This lead to a decade long investigation that lead to no real solution. Countless stress tests, echo/ekg, holters, blood work, head and neck MRIs, dopplers, EEGs, etc, no real diagnosis was made. The only thing that change was about 2 years after switched from metoprolol to losartan, as it was more appropriate now after the weight loss, which a doc thought was just the right thing to do and had no explanation for my symptoms otherwise. No more rate control since 2015.
Ultimately, after 10 years of this… For the neurological symptoms, it was a deemed hemiplegic or basilar migraines, with aura, with or without headache. I was told hey, it hasn’t killed you yet, so that alone tells us at least it’s not fatal. For the cardiac symptoms, anxiety or some type health anxiety, or something in the psych realm was deemed the culprit. I was told it’s best you ignore it, or jump on a medley of different drugs, which I was told likely won’t benefit me. Imagine having to live with all this, and being told by doctors to essentially ignore it all. I asked the crucial question, at least to me, that I’ll go ahead and listen to their advice, but what is my threshold? At what point am I to rush to an ER? Most people would run to one if they had these symptoms, as neuro could be stroke, and cardiac could be heart attack. They had no answer for this. After this decade long hunt, I spent a year in misery, personal issues, my blood pressure medications was doubled in dose after a breakup, then doubled again 2 weeks later (it was stressful), all during Covid year 2020. Unfortunately over the decade I slowly gained back 100 of the weight I had lost. Back 290 pounds. During this year I lost 30 of it again, down to 260 In 2021, I had pretty crazy bout of chest pain, and was offered do a coronary CTA, came back completely clean. No obstruction at all in vessels, and zero calcium score. This was reassuring enough to me at least cardiac wise I can rest easy(to some degree). For the neuro side, CGRP antagonist was on the table to try, but it would just be throwing medications at it, along with gabapentin and topamax as options. The latter were tried, but were not tolerated at all. In 2022, I had my first bout with covid, moderate, it left its lingering symptoms (which are hard to discern as I had a large amount of the symptoms of long covid for years before this too) An endoscopy was done. As a GI doc said since you’ve been having such a long list of symptoms for so long, let’s explore the GI route since you’ve ruled out the rest from what it seems. Endoscopy found a small hiatal hernia. And the trail went cold. Can a small one perhaps cause such symptoms?
Which brings us to the most current situation. March of 2023 I decided to do the stationary bike, high resistance and high effort for 30 minutes with HR at about 130, then 5 more minutes I ramped up effort even more to HR of 150. Towards the last minute or two o started getting chest pain. I obviously should have stopped but I figured hey I get some type of pain like this time to time let’s just hit the 35 minute mark. Big mistake.
When I stopped, the pain persisted. And took a while to get better. Like an hour or so. And it felt different than anything I’ve felt before. Felt radiating to arm and jaw. By nightfall it was fine, next morning it all started again when I got out of bed. I wish I had gone to ER so at least they’d run some tests on the spot. I contacted my cardiologist, who I saw four days later. He said there’s nothing to be done, even though I told him these are different symptoms, and seem to come from exertion. He offered me a repeat of the CT or a trip to the cath lab. I let him decide and he went with CT since it was non invasive.
2 weeks later I got the test done, and this time they found a 10% Non calcified plaque in the proximal LAD, the calcium score still zero. He said this doesn’t explain your symptoms, but since we have evidence of CAD, you have to be put on aspirin 81. Additionally, he offered Ranexa, as he thought maybe this could be microvascular disease. Ultimately he did not believe this to be new and different like I’ve been saying and jumbled it all into the last 15 years or so. No enzymes got tested, which I really wish had been.
*****I now had this exertional left arm pain, wrist pain on the outside, numbness, chest pain, pressure, dizziness, jaw pain, pain behind left ear, left side of neck headache, bouts of nausea and sweating, shortness of breath even. This was all way worse than what I used to deal with. And different too
My pcp advised against his trial medicine, as it has a very little success and plenty of adverse effects. Days past by, no improvement, I’m getting these symptoms on the daily. An incident 3 months later in summer after swift walk to the car after eat a large cookie (I include that because maybe it was GI?). For hours I felt tingly in the chest, light headed, just confused. My girlfriend even noticed I just seemed out of it. Chest felt tight and painful. It eventually got better many hours later.
Mid summer I went for a pulmonary consult, at my doc’s behest, only for this doc to rush me to an er on suspicion of an aortic dissection. They did a full CTA of head neck chest abdomen and pelvis….. nothing but unnecessary radiation and contrast exposure.
Late summer I had a week of sweating and light headed ness, now 6 months out from the exercise incident from March. I went to another cardiologist, who had no idea why my pressure was suddenly 90/60 (literally no changes have been made). I was told to cut my medication dose in half. Could this be due to the contrast from the CT earlier??
He ordered a stress test, my first one since then, which came back subpar 6-7 minutes only but I did hit the target rate. I may have called quits 1 minute or 2 early as I saw my blood pressure skyrocketing. It was considered a normal test regardless. That night I had the worst left arm pain lasting hours, but I was told there’s no explanation. I did start getting very intense headaches, ones that I still get
Interestingly, 1 month later, my blood pressure was suddenly now high, 150/80. Suddenly. no explanation why it was low then, and none for why it’s high now. We went back to regular dose of the medication.
I got a neuro consult again to see if it could all connect, autonomic testing was done for dysautonomia, came back normal. Back to Square 1 again.
In the fall of 2023 I tried a bout of PPI as all docs were pushing for this , nothing changed, but it did help with the occasional heartburn I got. I even gave a month try to benzodiazepine as to rule out psych causes, and then tried an Ssri for 2 months. Nothing, other than sedation.
This new year I caved and started metoprolol again. I was told maybe it will help if it’s microvascular disease. It wasn’t exactly indicated but at this point I was willing OT try it all. Initially it had some benefit I think, then dose was doubled in February but not much changed. I still take it presently, as my base HR had recently been higher than normal anyways.
In these last few months, all of this persists. And subjectively I think it’s getting worse. I’ve been feeling cold for months, but then feel like sweat at the same time (not drenched just clamy). Get bouts of nausea even at rest. All of the cardiac symptoms episodic pain dizziness with chest shoulder jaw back neck ear, etc all still there. Even from left arm it runs down like into the palm and pinky. I even get them during sex I just power through. Stressful moments also incite them. I cannot say for sure, but possibly food or spicy food can do it as well.
My cardiologists still believe nothing is new here, even though it feels completely different to me after that exercise incident. They suggest coping as is, or going in for another coronary CTA, or finally take a trip to a cath lab. Essentially they say objectively they see nothing, but if I keep complaining those are the best routes.( I was offered nitro as well but scared to take it) My neuro says unlikely they are related, but it they could be to the possible migraines. At least the new headaches. There’s some possible link with migraine and chest pain. Only way to know is try a cgrp. He’s going with Qulipta. My GI doc says it could be vagus nerve related, and/or esophageal, so let’s try a TCA, amitriptyline. I’ve also been suggested to try a higher dose of Xan.
——— I have no idea which trail to follow????
My labs are normal, -except CRP (I believe around 40 if I recall correctly) which is often elevated, -hsCRP of 1.8 which was moderate risk category, -and CPK which is often high as well around 400 but my docs blame it on statin use or maybe exercise (idk about that no one entertains it as cardiac but they must have their reasons)
I really don’t want to sit on all this and find out later I didn’t take the action necessary. I’m afraid of something serious happening. And daily this is interfering with my life.
My concern is maybe during that exercise I did something. Initially was concerned about damage from really high blood pressure during, coronary dissection maybe? Something else damaged? Or something missed? Did I make something worse? Does anyone think it’s all related to my past symptoms?
What could have happened with this exercise incident??
Any input, advice, suggestions, similar stories, appreciated.
If you made it this far. Thank you so much for reading. Take care.
2024.05.15 05:22 featherwinglove I did it again, a new Trimps novelization (more faithful to story messages than the other one) Tightniks Run Zero
[OC Intro: The game is modded to increase basic jobs cost, seasonal events are disabled. Much of the crash details are based on NASA/SP-2008-565 Columbia Crew Survival Investigation Report recommendations especially Chapter 3 "Occupant Protection".]
The ship is without power, and Tightniks can't run the radar much without draining the batteries. He has only a few minutes of APU power left, goes over the best clearing he can find, and radars it. It varies by only a few feet from the aerodynamic glideslope there. He spots it out on the cameras and circles to go after that spot. He's only at two hundred feet now. With one hand on the stick, he uses the other to open the pressure equalization valve on the side hatch, then at one hundred feet, gets it undogged. Depending on how much damage he's going to get, it's less likely to be stuck closed and trap him. The dynamic vacuum this pulls in the cockpit rips most of the survival pack data cards from that rack and scatters them across the landscape. Crap, I'm gonna need those! Refocusing on surviving the next few seconds, he turns on the radar for the final approach, takes a last look around, then straight ahead at his forward camera and PFD, he clicks his HANS and shoulder strap locks in; after that, he can barely move, but that now is better than dying in this crash with a broken neck. He's a decent pilot and brings up the flare gently. Bringing up the alpha on this delta-winged ship, he balloons a little, but keeps the nose going up and restores a zero aerodynamic sink rate just above the highest terrain indicated by the radar altimeter. The ship bumps a little in the ground effect, and he can see the radar altitude cycling irregularly up and down about five feet at a time. Rougher than it looked from higher up! The body flap protecting the dead engines hits first, and the nose comes rapidly down. It hits, the screens go blank, and Tightniks is surrounded by airbags, some lifting his feet from the rudder petals and his hand from the control stick. It's blinding, it's disorienting, it's noisy, and, to his relief, it's long! It takes several seconds before the crashing cockpit stops moving. How many times did he flip over? Did he go sideways and roll? Am I rightside up? Are we really stopped on the ground? The airbags deflate, and he can move his arms. He gets his restraints loose and inspects himself. "Uck!" he says out loud (without the 'f'). No broken bones. His pressure suit can take his blood pressure. 116/81, pulse 112, blood oxygen 99 reads off on his left arm, I'll friggin' take it!
The ship is amazingly intact from what he can tell. He can't get any readings. The systems test meter seems to be working, but can't find any voltages anywhere. The ship seems to be completely dead. Behind him, 10 passenger seats are all surrounded by airbags and the back of the cabin ends in some sort of dirt-and-gravel and there's a bit of daylight seeping in around the edges. He was the only one on board, though, so their deployment was mostly academic (they might have stiffened the structure a little during the crash, but that's probably trivial.) Tightniks gets out of his spacesuit. The air on this planet is actually breathable. He gets the hatch open, steps outside and-
"A green shimmer erupts then disappears, and you hit the ground."
The human emerges from the glowing green mist and hits the ground. Groans. Pushes against that ground, trying to get back up. Where am I? What's my name? I remember nothing. Aren't babies born naked? He's got a dark blue button-down shirt on. A uniform? A shoulder patch. Gets up, looks around. I feel really heavy. I'm not that fat, am I? He picks up a small stone from the ground, this also feels heavier than it should. He rises to his feet and holds it out somewhat (he's unable to fully extend his arm) and lets it go. The stone hits the ground near his feet quickly and with remarkable speed. It's the gravity, it's greater than it is on- ...where am I from? This is- ...not my home planet? "Oooh..."
"Ka?" it says.
What is that? It's cute, at least.
It is not tame. He has no hope of catching it on foot. The creature seems to like the berries. Maybe if I gather some of those into one place and set some kind of trap...
33s: First trap.
I got one! The human lumbers up to the trap and gets the catch open. Do you bite? It doesn't matter much to me; I'm so friggin' screwed.
It doesn't. It looks at the human with a sense of wonder, actually. A blink and tilt of the head. Seems almost to be asking, Is it you? My purpose? My savior? Once out of the trap, which is totally wrecked, he has to make a new one from scratch, it follows him around like a imprinted hatchling bird.
Wiry little fella, you are. You're going to need some bulking up to do anything useful. The- ...'trimp', I guess... The trimp seems just barely able to feed itself. The human lets him into the broken ship's intact cabin, and it curls up comfortably in a passenger seat for a nap.
1m03s: Second trap.
"Apparently the Trimps breed if they're not working. Doesn't look pleasant."
What are they doing?
The trimps appear to be androgynous, and these two have paired off in the back of the ship. They're holding something carefully within a few hours, feeding it berries, grass, and- ...corundum.
Corundum?? Whatever that is, it isn't a baby.
1m35s: Third trap.
Only it IS a baby! The third trimp he trapped immediately joined the other two in raising it. They have a strange diet of food the human has found compatible with his own body, but they also eat rocks! They're careful to crush and sort aluminate minerals from silcate ones and only eat aluminate. Actually, they don't eat aluminate, they're only feeding it to the baby.
2m06s: Fourth trap.
All four are raising the same child, who is just starting to toddle. It seems these fellas have alumina or maybe even aluminum bones. The human takes a nap and wakes to find the first child grown up and they're starting to raise a second child, all five of them.
2m46s: Huts.
The human found a working bit of electronics. He calls it a pad, but maybe it's more like a smartphone. It has plans for two residential structures. The first, the smaller one, he can build right away, but the second one needs something called "drywall", and he has to figure out how to make that before he can build it. Huts and houses, apparently.
3m13s: 10 pop, full, first farmer.
The trimp he trained to farm and make paper took an incredible 50 units of food to get bulked up to do the work, and now it's not participating in rearing the child. But less than an hour after the trimp started farming and pulping, the child was out on its own, and the trimps did not start another. The ten seats on the ship were all full. Well, eleven counting the one up front that the human sleeps in. The pilot starts exploring the area.
3m28s: Battle.
Wait, what are you do-
The hostile roars and charges at the human, but one of his trimps jumps in front of him with a stick and they fight. It started right when the human got far enough away from the ship that the hostile non-trimps away from the ship began to regard him as leaving his own territory. After the trimp defeats the first enemy, it continues after other hostiles.
3m53s: Shield I in Z1c5.
The human is easily able to recover the loot in the territory cleared by the fighting trimp. Then he sees something glinting in the- That can't be! What the heck is that? It's a data card that fits his pad. It quite clearly regards trimp combat. He gets it loaded into his pad and studies it. I can do this, it just takes some wood. He returns to the ship to discover that they had already started on a new child before the fighter had even expired in battle. The human concentrates on his research.
4m38s: Mskel in Z1c11 defeated.
The remains of this one seem rather white and shiny. It's titanium! This enemy had titanium bones! He'll store them away. They'll be useful someday, I'm sure.
5m52s: Dagger I in Z1c20.
Where are these data cards coming from? The human wonders as he loads this one into his pad, It's for a weapon it calls a dagger. He blinks. I don't know what a dagger is. I'll take your word for it, data card. Needs metal. He has gathered some, but ore is plentiful. He can just dig and smelt it whenever he wants. For now, I'll continue researching.
6m18s: Arable in Z1c21.
It's an old cave that trimps like to live in. Why weren't they able to live there before? How could these friendly critters be confined to only the exact spot where THAT thing, he looks back where he came from, not remembering that he piloted the wrecked ship to its current resting place, crashed? This is really strange. I'll let them fill up this cave before advancing further. Wait, what about defenses? The hostiles never try to reclaim territory that they've lost, so he stops worrying about that fairly quickly.
8m22s: First hut is 0.3% first ever AP.
The trimps seem fairly easy to please in terms of living quarters. Two move into his first hut and start raising a child. The human has his tent, uniform, and the heater pilfered from his space suit. Not much of a mud fan.
9m59s: Miners in Z1c30.
Oh, what's on this data card? Sl3niw? Oh, I'm holding the pad upside down. Miners. I can teach trimps how to mine ores and smelt met- 200 units of food? Each job is getting more expensive to train a trimp for. He puts his bee nickels to his eyes and spots another data card probably 10 enemies away. "Sc"? Does that means science? I can teach trimps to do science??
13m57s: Scientists in Z1c40.
Due to the expense of training trimps, the human couldn't afford to build them shields until now, he's got Sh1-3 made for the fighter to capture the science training data card. 14m02s: One head went into that turtlimp shell, that of his fighter, but two came out: his fighter still has his head on, and he managed to get the turtlimp's head off. It rushes off after the deadly penguimp in the next cell. The shields are not doing all that much good, actually, but they're better than nothing. The human picks up and loads the science data card and- Holy runny sugar-free fudge crap! 1000 food units, but it'll endow them with the ability to speak. Good. I'm getting bored with no one to talk to.
14m28s: Bloodlust purchased and AutoFight enabled (that delay after getting it is an effect of jacking up the job cost.)
As the human buries this expired little trimp warrior, he comes to the sobering realization that he has more trimp graves in his growing trimp colony than he does live trimps. And yet they seem more hopeful now than before I got to know any of them. They seem to think I'm the solution to all their problems or- Those two look east somberly, then notice that he's watching them and smile back and wave at him. ...one problem that is specific, but very, very huge for them. [The only reason I say 'east' is because that's right on a map, and the game advances right across a row, then up. I might say 'northeast' on occasion for that reason.]
20m47s: Z1c73, Miners taken.
Are you my new mining foreman? The trimp who took to the mining training has dark brown fur that lays flat on its head. It's unusual in not having any bits that stick out from its head, ahoge or whatever. This one is relatively quiet, and while it has assimilated the mining and smelting knowledge, it needs to bulk up to do any mining. Smelting is relatively easy, and getting a strong natural draft going in a furnace is almost trivial with the increased gravity. This trimp builds furnaces like nothing. And likes to nap in holes it digs right on the spot; it's weird that way. [Puchim@s Yukipo, and furnaces are not explicit in Trimps.]
21m58s: Farming in Z1c80.
The resourcing "books" are not data cards but paper scrolls, apparently lost to the trimps. It seems that they were civilized in the recent past and some calamity swept over the planet to reduce them to this. Did I have something to do with it? Amnesia sucks harder than a Dyson- ...what's a Dyson? Whatever, it sucks. This disaster happening just before I crash in the only spot with trimps still alive would be a seriously crazy coincidence! Something is really, really wrong about all this. [The author has not sought or received product placement permission or fee from Dyson Technology Ltd. or any resellers of their stuff, just they literally suck balls and made my favorite vacuum cleaner.]
23m50s: Builder in Z1c90.
They've rescued an, I dunno, gelding trimp? It just started to build a shed around the piled lumber I left to build one. It's really slow compared to me, and just banged its thumb, but it is super cute with that long reddish head fur. That particular trimp is also fascinated with pink ribbons and likes to decorate its head fur with them. Because of its inherent inability to participate in rearing children, it isn't counted in the population. [Puchim@s Io, builder on the basis of Iori seen building in 1x10.]
26m02s: Zone 2, 44 pop, 5.5s RC with Z0/1.
It's some sort of tactical manual - tactical coordination. Coordination! He's starting to sort out some trimpese on the research he has done so far. It needs a lot of metal, so they won't be able to implement it for some time. Hopefully, they're still good one at a time, but these enemies seem to be getting bigger as we go along. Uh oh!
27m33s: Gym in Z2c5.
It's some sort of training dojo or sporting arena. The human examines the ruins, I think I can back-engineer drawings for this, get one built, and see what happens.
29m02s: 1g, 47 pop, 10.8s RC with Z1/2.
The two fighting trimps now with their gym and coordination are dodging and blocking enthusiastically, and making much faster ground against the bad guys then a little while ago when it was just one trimp fighting at a time and unable to avoid the enemy hitting back.
40m46s: Fresh turkimp in Z2c74, 63 pop, 7.9s RC, Sh1-10, Da1-5, Bo1-3, Ma1-3, Hm1-3, 6g.
Oh, wow, the laborers seem really hot after this turkimp. He cooks it up and tries a slice. It's really awesome! I have to work alongside his laboring trimps to share it, but I'm getting used to the gravity now. That scroll we found back in Z2c10 really helped. Trimps' techniques and appliances for handicapped individuals, and I'm really handicapped in this higher gravity. He joins the woodcutters with the turkimp; they're the most numerous resource laborer right now, building more gyms, enough that the block/dodge ability of the fighting trimps is almost caught up to the enemy's ability to cause damage.
43m15s: Zone 3, 63 pop, 7.9s RC with Z1/2.
I'm neglecting my science and trimp scientists are really expensive. Curiously, that grey-haired one can't speak all that well, only says "Tai" and "Shijou", but it can write and draw like nobody's business. It's the only scientist so far. [Puchim@s Takanya: Online references probably still claim that she can utter the first two syllables of any word, but she can actually utter only the first two kana syllables of someone's name, most often the given name of basis human Takane Shijou, who also has that habit. (All the utterances of the puchidoru are based on the speech foibles of their basis humans except maybe Piyopiyo, where I haven't seen anything match up so far.)]
47m32s: Finally, we can make drywall and houses. 59m30s: Z3c77, 94 pop, 7.8s RC.
Oh, those poor things are really struggling up at the front. These trimps are enthusiastic and know no fear, but I still feel like telling them to stop for a while. I don't have the heart to keep them from trying while they're still doing some damage.
1h05m24s: Zone 4, 107 pop, 9.3s RC with Z3/4. 1h15m26s: Zone 5, 120 pop, 8.2s RC with Z3/4.
"What is that?" the human asks. He has three scientists. His first does all the writing, but the other two can actually speak. One of them hops up on a rock spire beside the human to reach his eye level.
At the next ridge line, over the lowest and most passable gap in the terrain, this really mean looking hovering sausage monster.
"I dunno," the scientist trimp shrugs, "But it's making me hungry. Looks like a perfectly cooked frankfurter from here." [John Morell's dubious dirigibles.]
"Oh, yeah," the human nods, "that's a blimp."
"A blimp?" the trimp tilts its head quizzically at the human, "How could you know?"
"I wish I could tell you, little buddy," the human extends his arm braces to descend the pass on the side of the zone boundary in the boss enemy's direction, then grunts, "Let's go kill it."
1h16m11s: Z1c9, 120 pop, 10.3s RC with Z4/5. 1h33m34s: Zone 6, 151 pop, 7.4s RC with Z4/5.
1h33m54s: TP in Z1c3.
"What's this?" the human asks, having picked up the little square document with the curling corners.
"Oh," the hungry scientist looks at it, "It's a garden path, follow me."
"You want to lead me down the garden path?" the human says.
"Yeah," the scientist says.
"Are you kidding?" the human asks.
"No," says the other scientist, "We don't get human humor. Listen, these fighters can't go, let them wear themselves out here, then we'll take the next group through this garden."
"Okay," the human nods, watching two more trimps join the fray as he issues the Z5 coordination orders, "they're doing pretty well after all that block training research we just wrapped up." [That's a common artifact, even in normal games, Z5 Traintacular combines with many gyms, enough population to add several trainers, affording Blockmaster, which is expensive on a run zero, plus a break on Tion Z5, a 40% all-stat increase. I don't think Zach designed it into the game on purpose, it just worked out this way.]
1h34m07s: 151 pop, 10.5s RC with Z5/7. 1h37m44s: Drop from Z6c39, TP for 3.
"Now we have these access map frags we can use to route through the old trimpopoli," the scientist explains, "Atlimpis for food, Morimpa for gems, Everimp for metal, and Impazon for wood."
"What about the garden?" the human asks.
"Well, we got lucky with Tricky Paradise," the scientist says, "but you can randomize the route and maybe get lucky. What's with that look?"
"Somehow, I'm remembering 'frag' as something that blew up with deadly pieces," the human says. [Different video games - ones with better graphics and worse gameplay Ｏ(>▽<)Ｏ]
1h39m59s: Blues back up to the top on series I...
"Tai, Tai!" the first ever trimp scientist stops the human just before he upgrades the mace and dagger to Mk.6 and Mk. 8 respectively. It has a note for him.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" the human asks, "Do you think that's my name?"
"Shijou, Shijou," it nods as though to indicate, I KNOW it is. Then it proffers its note again. The human takes it and reads, "Don't upgrade the first row equipment right now."
"Why not?" the human asks.
"Shijou," it points at the end of the mapped route, where there's a scroll sticking out of the thistles.
2h24m07s: Zone 8, 224 pop, 12.2s RC with Z7/12.
"Your settlement is getting crowded, there's Trimps in the streets, and you're taking heat. You feel a sudden strong desire to create a map, though you're not quite sure how that would help."
2h49m10s: Zone 9, 357 pop, 9.5s RC with Z8/15.
"You can't shake the feeling that you've been here before. Déjà-vu?"
The trimps really seem to like the new high capacity mansions, and the village has rapidly expanded since they started building them.
"There's something familiar about this," the human says.
"Tai," the grey one that writes clings to his arm and shows him a note that says, "Don't give up now."
"We must persist," says the yellow one has found a foothold it can grab onto and grabs the human's shoulder gently, "If you give up to early, we'll never solve this. You'll be stuck here forever."
The human puts his hand over the trimp's paw on his shoulders, then looks at him, "I can die, too."
"No, you can't," the trimp says quietly, "Please don't test that, tall one."
"Death is just another path..." he remembers.
"Gan," the grey one squeaks. [That's the first two kana syllables of "Gandalf"]
"...one that we all must take," the human continues, "The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it-"
"A green mist," the yellow trimp interrupts, "flash of fire, we're all gone and our progress forgotten. The wandering stars return to that day, and you again crash that ship- ...a little better every time."
"Wait," the human looks around, "have I been here before?"
"I-" the yellow trimp tries in futility to share what little it knows, "...or... somebody got just a little coolant into the-"
"Into the what?"
"This side up," the grey one's note says.
"Into the that," the yellow one points at the note, "It really helped. You- ...I don't think we've ever had mansions before."
Well, of course they didn't have mansions before. That was one of my ship's data cards. How did it get way out here? Will anything start to make sense?
3h02m13s: Zone 10, 387 pop, 8.7s RC with Z8/15; '28s: 11.1s RC with Z9/19. 3h16m41s: Tough snimp after food book, L10 rand dept from lo-hi-med 118/25/96, 4 Items.
"That's twice our frags led us to gem-rich Moria," the human says.
"Morimpa," the new red trimp scientist corrects, there now being 5 scientists. [There'd be more if there were more turkimp.]
"The question is how do we use all these gems?" the human looks at the village zoning plans again, "I like those mansions and all, but they use hardly any gems compared to, well-" he gestures at the pile of over two dozen thousand gems they've gathered, "-that! And still a lot of wood and lumber."
"I think there's something," the yellow one sighs, "I wish I knew more."
Quite some time later, after they're done looting that route for equipment plans, the trimps are again advancing through Zone 10, and he hears it.
"Tai?" the grey one wonders.
"Where are you going?" the yellow one asks.
"To the farm," the human answers.
"Whatever for?" the red one seems exasperated.
"Shijou?" the grey one sighs, then looks at the fighting front. It's been around long enough to remember, "Shijou!"
"You guys already get so much to eat this doesn't do you much good," the human explains.
3h32m33s: L11 112/35/78 rand sea, dropped from Z11c6 with disband, 4.
"What's wrong?" the red one asks.
The human comforts one of the wounded. Once trimps start into a zone fight, they have to finish before they bleed out. He's really bothered making them desert in front of that second turkimp. "They had a lot left in them," he sighs, rubbing his eyes, "but we can't keep that much dead turkimp at once, we have to leave it alive to use up all of this one."
"Shijou," the grey one presents a note, "We need this map right away, anyway. Don't worry about it, Tightniks."
"Tightniks?" he looks at the grey one, "Is that me? How do you know?"
"Tai," the grey one points at the top of the human's left breast pocket.
"Ah, crud," the yellow one curls its tail around in front of itself as trimps do when they're embarrassed, "Is that really a name tag?"
The human hadn't even noticed it since the green flash blew up his memory as he was stepping out of the ship.
4h04m22s: Block (sub-8h AP is only 0.3%), taking it, 504 pop, 9.8s RC with Z10/24.
It's a pretty thick book about using shields for block instead of hit points. The pad has the stats analysis. Sh3-1 is only giving us 9% of our hit points. Turning to his trimp scientists, he says, "It seems to me to be worth it."
"Let's," the yellow one nods.
"Shijou," it hands him a note, "It scales badly, but that won't matter for a long time. I think there's a way to undo it before it matters."
"Doing it." The human takes out his pad and starts scanning.
4h29m05s: L14 rand moun 137/26/80 is really good for a lo-hi-med. 4h30m52s: Hotels.
"Ah," the yellow one says, "I knew there was something. That must be it."
5h08m09s: L15 lo-hi-hi rand gard 129/28/82 (just got explorers). 5h09m32s: Picked up Wall.
"Dam," the human says.
"Damn?" the red one chuckles.
"No," the human says, "Earthen wall dam; it's a thing that makes artificial lakes by holding rivers back."
"Lakes?" the yellow one asks, "Rivers?"
"Oh yeah," the human says, "This planet doesn't have enough rain for those..."
5h48m21: Leaving Wall from about c70 to fetch Tion Z15.
"You can't resume the map from the same point if you start another," the human reads the grey one's note.
"We can go back to the same point on that route if we hold there and finish Zone 15, right?" Tightniks asks.
"Shijou!" it seems to be saying yes.
"Yes," the yellow one adds, "but we're out of Series III upgrades, and you need a fresh map route to start up Series IV."
"We should be okay," Tightniks says, "but if we have to start it over, I don't see that being a big deal." As they advance through the rest of Zone 15, Tightniks resumes his usual duties at the research desk instead building and running traps like he was before.
The trimps seem hopeful at this decision.
5h49m10s: Fresh turkimp. 5h50m16s: Zone 16, 1071 pop, 13.4s RC with Z15/75, 13m43s turkimp (skel in c1.)
"Z:16 Seriously? Another Blimp so soon?"
"So," Tightniks lowers his bee nickels and looks at the red one, "is it going to be boss fights at the end of every zone from now on?"
"Hmm," the red trimp looks up past the human at some random rock spire or cloud.
"Well?" the human persists.
"Yup," he says.
"Hmph," Tightniks grabs a Sw3-1 of the rack and advances towards the front, "Before then, we have another Mister Titanium."
"What does he like about skeletimps?" the red one asks the grey one as the human marches off.
"Shijou?" the grey one seems just as confused by that.
"He's not going back to the ship, and he's not getting himself killed," the yellow one smiles, "so I'll take it."
5h58m32s...
"Hey guys, go for the mortar!" the human suggests to his 75 fighting trimps in the Wall's boss fight.
"I can tell from your bedtime stories that you're used to the artillery in that other place," the yellow one gripes, "but fighting works differently here, there's no artillery."
And the human instantly collapses laughing, the scientists a little worried he might have injured himself in the planet's severe gravity. But he's okay, at least physically, "Mortar is the stuff between the bricks, fellas. That's is a brickimp, right?"
5h59m18s: Wall, 1076 pop, 13.3s RC, 1% AP for sub-8h finish, first L16 roll good 156/35/84 moun, 10 for the metal.
Beyond the Wall was a more edenic section of the trimpolis ruins, doubling the production of the lumberjacks. The trimps are actually really happy with the mode of all of the laborers moving between the three big jobs, along with the turkimp, except for the foremen specialized at leading the job. It isn't enough to boost their productivity, but the human goes to them with trays of sandwiches.
6h06m52s: 50 map run 0.3% AP...
6h19m13s: Zone 17, 1141 pop, 16.0s RC with Z16/94, no turkimp.
"Z:17 You climb a large cliff and look out over the new Zone. Red dirt, scorched ground, and devastation. Is that a Dragimp flying around out there?!"
"Hmm," the human surveys the new zone with his bee nickels, "Looks like crap. Any ideas?"
"You're the idea man," the yellow one groans.
"Set the map flag," he puts his bee nickels away, "We'll run a depth for practice and to load up on gems for more hotels."
"Righto," the red one gets to work.
6h44m34s: First DCP. (Draglimp Care Package; I refuse to call it a tribute.)
"Oh," the human says, "It's tame now, so it brings back gems in exchange for food?" He looks at his gaping scientists, "That's what it looks like, huh? Guys? Yo!"
"Tai..." the grey one sighs.
Draglimp, the dragimp imprinted on Tightniks, lands beside the human, drops some gems at his feet, and accepts some scratching behind its horns before diving into the food bowl.
"You tamed a dragimp???" Grey's note says.
"Well," the yellow one huffs, "I guess that happened."
8h18m53s: L20 depth of 154/27/79.
"Mapping up here?" the red one half closes one eye and tilts his head.
"Yeah," the human says while fitting together the depth map fragments, "With the coordination book not right at the end, we have an extra mark of coordination to take advantage of. Let's take our housing up to 2000 or so, shall we?"
"Okay," the yellow one says from a pile of logs, "What's all the wood for?" They had been collecting it for days now.
"The series upgrades follow a rather specific pattern," Tightniks explains, "Just on the other side of this blimp is Zone 21, where we should be able to find the Shield series V, right?"
"Shijou!" the grey one nods.
8h56m17s: 1% AP for 100 map runs, leaving it, 1751 pop, 24.8s RC with Z20/232. 8h56m54s: Zone 21...
"Ooooookay," Tightniks growls, "There is something off about this thing."
"Shijou?" the grey one looks at the yellow one with concern about their human starship pilot friend.
The human stoops, picks up the little green gem on the ridge between Zone 20 and 21, looks at it, huffs, and asks, "Any idea where this comes from?"
"Err..." the red one seems hesitant to say, "I think you made it."
"Really?" the human huffs, "How could that be?" Then he tosses it at Red, "See if anything reacts to it. It might be radioactive, so we should take turns to minimize exposure."
"Really?" Red's holding it now, "What makes you say that?"
"Because I'm pissed off for no reason I can figure out," the human says, "I think it's coming from that."
"Frags," the red one says quickly, "I think it's arranging a route. You're good with maps," it tosses the gem to the grey scientist.
"Shijou," the grey one says hopefully, and has a map drawn within a few minutes. [Whether it looks like the one in Puchim@s 1x61 is anyone's guess. That one annoyed me as well as Chihya.]
9h02m37s: L21 moun first roll was a decent 160/26/84. 9h21m00s: Starting run 5 of that map...
Tightniks had taken his anger out on some food and wood to build about 8000 traps. Now he's leaning against a rock spire in his increasingly tattered uniform. A nap begins, perhaps unintentionally.
Wild trimps are examining the pile, finding it unwelcoming, and also finding no place in the town, just mill about. It looks like they want to help.
"Ku?" it's a blue trimp, probably a farmer waiting for stuff to grow, climbs up on the rock spire the human is leaning against, starts patting him on the head, "Ku. Ku ku." [Puchim@s Chihya.]
9h23m09s: Still working that lap...
Tightniks wakes up from that nap, and the grey one is standing there. "Shijou," it says with a note of concern, although not much of one. The note it holds says, "It wasn't me."
"Oh, what wasn't you, buddy?" He stretches out a bit, feeling somewhat refreshed. It feels like somebody washed his face and hair while he was sleeping.
The grey one is also holding a small mirror, apparently broken off from a larger mirror and with the sharp edges filed down to make the edges safe.
The human takes it from the grey trimp and holds it in front of his face to discover that somebody has bound up all his hair into about twenty little pigtails. He touches them with his other hand to confirm. "Eh, whatever." He hands the mirror back and goes back to sleep. [Puchim@s Koamimami.]
9h30m08s: The following run...
"He's not throwing stuff every which way yet," the yellow one whispers to the red one, watching the human snoozing with his pad on his knee.
"You remember that, too?" the red one asks.
"'Remember'?" the yellow one turns to face the red one, "I s'pose that's better than imagining it."
"I remember it, too," the grey one says via a playing card sized note.
"If we're stuck in a time loop," the yellow one sighs, "maybe this cycle will be different."
"Tai..." the grey one admires him for a moment. Then thumbs in the direction of the mountain, "Heh, Shijou!" it laughs.
9h35m58s: Run 8, c9 of that map.
The scientists nap and take notes, and meditate and take notes, and draw stuff. The grey one often storyboards for the other nine because it's the best at drawing stuff. They have come up with a list, and most probably "order" (they're debating whether their ranking means "order" (sequence of things happening over the various loops) or "frequency" (what proportion of previous loops they have happened in). But they've come up with this, from first (or perhaps most often) to most recent (or perhaps least often):
- The ship crashes (they're pretty sure that happens every loop) - The human builds huts - The human teaches some of his trimps to speak and do science - The human builds houses - The human makes maps - The human builds mansions - The human blows up and gets himself killed somewhere around Z17 to Z21, often on a dragimp - The human only recently/occasionally builds hotels - The human only recently/rarely tamed a dragimp - The human only recently/rarely maps the Dimension of Anger
They're all agreed that that they have never finished the Dimension of Anger. What they are not all agreed on is that they've never done this conference to figure out whether they're in a time loop or what that might mean. [See also Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "Cause and Effect" ...which was sort of a time loop but they weren't going back in time. It's very interesting, but its meta makes no sense - no one ever went looking for the Bozeman in 80 years? No one who went looking for the Bozeman also got stuck? No one noticed the passage of time outside the little area of space where the not-quite-a-time-loop was happening? Errr... sci-fi writers, don't be half-assed about your time loops, lmao! Be like Harold Ramis- ...what am I saying?? (That would be Groundhog Day, which grafted a time loop into a romcom; there are no other sci-fi elements. But it was a full-blown time loop and not half-assed like "Cause and Effect".)]
9h54m06s: Dropped from Z21c95...
I think it would be a bad idea to bypass that green area, as much as I'd rather not face it. Both his domesticated trimps, which are breeding up a new group of fighters, and the wild trimps he has decided just now not to open the traps for, stare at him and point in that direction. He shoulders a huge Shield V-3 and grabs an Mace IV-2 as well and announces, "We're doing it." Thus equipped, he marches off into the Dimension of Anger.
10h27m53s: Taking Pi4-2; recently had taken Pa4-2...
The group at the front had expired, and the snimp in DoAc95 glares at the advancing colony of trimps, which had halted only because of it. It refuses to counterattack the vulnerable colony and its human, instead snorting and huffing, waiting for the next bunch of 232 fighting trimps to come in range.
Tightniks runs along the line of traps, releasing the recently tamed trimps, singing a song that he doesn't remember the meaning of, that he doesn't remember was crafted by an ethnically Chinese guy out of an African language, and later mastered by two caucasians over the internet before they ever met in person. "Baba yetu yetu uliye, mbinguni yetu yetu amina..." because it just happened to be stuck in his head. [Because the Doylian author decided on a whim to. Christopher Tin got it into Civilization IV and at the time (2010 July), I made the best video for it on YouTube, which got subsequently blown to shreds when Peter Hollens and Malukah re-recorded the song from scratch in their own voices and instruments in 2014, pity with no English translation, the purpose of my video.]
Noticing the last batch of metal he needs coming out of the furnace, he waves the waiting grey scientist to fire up the forge [to use the term properly and not as the game does], for it was time to wrap up the forging dies for the Spetum IV, Mark 2 pike heads.
"Shijou!" the grey one cheers, setting aside a snack that looks like maybe ramen, and starts jumping up and down on the bellows handle.
It takes a while for the human to chip out the tip in the two halves of the forging die, and then polish it, and then heat it up in the forge, and then quench it, inspect it, and put it into service crafting thousands of new pike heads for the fighting trimps.
But only one second passed on the map frame clock (10h27m54s) four cells behind that snimp, in the case being brooded over by this huge, and if it's honest, rather concerned megablimp.
10h35m45: Portal PB, 45 He, 4.247 He/hr, 1891 pop, 22.7s RC with Z20/232, no turkimp.
The last head of the map's boss monster goes limp as one of the fighting trimps' mace heads bounces of it, and the huge thing settles on its tail, resting on the package that seems to be the prize of this map. And there's a popping sound, and then something mechanical.
Is that a scroll compressor? Tightniks looks at the package. The deflating monster's lifting envelope material drapes over everything underneath it. "Red, Shijou!" he snaps and points, "roll up that side of it. Keep this part from sucking down on the extractor nozzle!"
All ten of the scientists jump in, literally, pushing the gas in the bag towards the compressor. Tightniks as well, rolling up the front.
Until he kicks, and nearly trips over, a smaller package that might be the explanation for the reason why the center of the monster's defense seemed to be a little away from the big package he could see. It's in the right place, he realizes. He gets it uncovered and reads stenciled-and-sprayed block letters on it:
"DT TIME PORTAL / THIS SIDE DOWN"
Perhaps the Dimension of Anger is so named because of the rage suddenly rising up in Tightniks' throat. It isn't so much as the free-floating aggression suddenly has an answer, there is definitely a fresh batch of rage and anger as he grips the nearest Mace IV, Mark 3 with both hands and gets it over his shoulder, its target obviously this object, anger at the realization he screams at the top of his lungs, "We are stuck in a mutha FAH-king time loop!!" His swing begins. [Tightniks almost never cusses, unlike Snugniks.]
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The ship is without power, and Tightniks can't run the radar much without draining the batteries. He has only a few minutes of APU power left, goes over the best clearing he can find, and radars it. It varies by only a few feet from the aerodynamic glideslope there. He spots it out on the cameras and circles to go after that spot. He's only at two hundred feet now. With one hand on the stick, he uses the other to open the pressure equalization valve on the side hatch, then at one hundred feet, gets it undogged. Depending on how much damage he's going to get, it's less likely to be stuck closed and trap him. The dynamic vacuum this pulls in the cockpit rips most of the survival pack data cards from that rack and scatters them across the landscape. Crap, I'm gonna need those! Refocusing on surviving the next few seconds, he turns on the radar for the final approach, takes a last look around, then straight ahead at his forward camera and PFD, he clicks his HANS and shoulder strap locks in; after that, he can barely move, but that now is better than dying in this crash with a broken neck. He's a decent pilot and brings up the flare gently. Bringing up the alpha on this delta-winged ship, he balloons a little, but keeps the nose going up and restores a zero aerodynamic sink rate just above the highest terrain indicated by the radar altimeter. The ship bumps a little in the ground effect, and he can see the radar altitude cycling irregularly up and down about five feet at a time. Rougher than it looked from higher up! The body flap protecting the dead engines hits first, and the nose comes rapidly down. It hits, the screens go blank, and Tightniks is surrounded by airbags, some lifting his feet from the rudder petals and his hand from the control stick. It's blinding, it's disorienting, it's noisy, and, to his relief, it's long! It takes several seconds before the crashing cockpit stops moving. How many times did he flip over? Did he go sideways and roll? Am I rightside up? Are we really stopped on the ground? The airbags deflate, and he can move his arms. He gets his restraints loose and inspects himself. "Uck!" he says out loud (without the 'f'). No broken bones. His pressure suit can take his blood pressure. 116/81, pulse 112, blood oxygen 99 reads off on his left arm, I'll friggin' take it!
The ship is amazingly intact from what he can tell. He can't get any readings. The systems test meter seems to be working, but can't find any voltages anywhere. The ship seems to be completely dead. Behind him, 10 passenger seats are all surrounded by airbags and the back of the cabin ends in some sort of dirt-and-gravel and there's a bit of daylight seeping in around the edges. He was the only one on board, though, so their deployment was mostly academic (they might have stiffened the structure a little during the crash, but that's probably trivial.) Tightniks gets out of his spacesuit. The air on this planet is actually breathable. He gets the hatch open, steps outside and-
"A green shimmer erupts then disappears, and you hit the ground."
The human emerges from the glowing green mist and hits the ground. Groans. Pushes against that ground, trying to get back up. Where am I? What's my name? I remember nothing. Aren't babies born naked? He's got a dark blue button-down shirt on. A uniform? A shoulder patch. Gets up, looks around. I feel really heavy. I'm not that fat, am I? He picks up a small stone from the ground, this also feels heavier than it should. He rises to his feet and holds it out somewhat (he's unable to fully extend his arm) and lets it go. The stone hits the ground near his feet quickly and with remarkable speed. It's the gravity, it's greater than it is on- ...where am I from? This is- ...not my home planet? "Oooh..."
"Ka?" it says.
What is that? It's cute, at least.
It is not tame. He has no hope of catching it on foot. The creature seems to like the berries. Maybe if I gather some of those into one place and set some kind of trap...
33s: First trap.
I got one! The human lumbers up to the trap and gets the catch open. Do you bite? It doesn't matter much to me; I'm so friggin' screwed.
It doesn't. It looks at the human with a sense of wonder, actually. A blink and tilt of the head. Seems almost to be asking, Is it you? My purpose? My savior? Once out of the trap, which is totally wrecked, he has to make a new one from scratch, it follows him around like a imprinted hatchling bird.
Wiry little fella, you are. You're going to need some bulking up to do anything useful. The- ...'trimp', I guess... The trimp seems just barely able to feed itself. The human lets him into the broken ship's intact cabin, and it curls up comfortably in a passenger seat for a nap.
1m03s: Second trap.
"Apparently the Trimps breed if they're not working. Doesn't look pleasant."
What are they doing?
The trimps appear to be androgynous, and these two have paired off in the back of the ship. They're holding something carefully within a few hours, feeding it berries, grass, and- ...corundum.
Corundum?? Whatever that is, it isn't a baby.
1m35s: Third trap.
Only it IS a baby! The third trimp he trapped immediately joined the other two in raising it. They have a strange diet of food the human has found compatible with his own body, but they also eat rocks! They're careful to crush and sort aluminate minerals from silcate ones and only eat aluminate. Actually, they don't eat aluminate, they're only feeding it to the baby.
2m06s: Fourth trap.
All four are raising the same child, who is just starting to toddle. It seems these fellas have alumina or maybe even aluminum bones. The human takes a nap and wakes to find the first child grown up and they're starting to raise a second child, all five of them.
2m46s: Huts.
The human found a working bit of electronics. He calls it a pad, but maybe it's more like a smartphone. It has plans for two residential structures. The first, the smaller one, he can build right away, but the second one needs something called "drywall", and he has to figure out how to make that before he can build it. Huts and houses, apparently.
3m13s: 10 pop, full, first farmer.
The trimp he trained to farm and make paper took an incredible 50 units of food to get bulked up to do the work, and now it's not participating in rearing the child. But less than an hour after the trimp started farming and pulping, the child was out on its own, and the trimps did not start another. The ten seats on the ship were all full. Well, eleven counting the one up front that the human sleeps in. The pilot starts exploring the area.
3m28s: Battle.
Wait, what are you do-
The hostile roars and charges at the human, but one of his trimps jumps in front of him with a stick and they fight. It started right when the human got far enough away from the ship that the hostile non-trimps away from the ship began to regard him as leaving his own territory. After the trimp defeats the first enemy, it continues after other hostiles.
3m53s: Shield I in Z1c5.
The human is easily able to recover the loot in the territory cleared by the fighting trimp. Then he sees something glinting in the- That can't be! What the heck is that? It's a data card that fits his pad. It quite clearly regards trimp combat. He gets it loaded into his pad and studies it. I can do this, it just takes some wood. He returns to the ship to discover that they had already started on a new child before the fighter had even expired in battle. The human concentrates on his research.
4m38s: Mskel in Z1c11 defeated.
The remains of this one seem rather white and shiny. It's titanium! This enemy had titanium bones! He'll store them away. They'll be useful someday, I'm sure.
5m52s: Dagger I in Z1c20.
Where are these data cards coming from? The human wonders as he loads this one into his pad, It's for a weapon it calls a dagger. He blinks. I don't know what a dagger is. I'll take your word for it, data card. Needs metal. He has gathered some, but ore is plentiful. He can just dig and smelt it whenever he wants. For now, I'll continue researching.
6m18s: Arable in Z1c21.
It's an old cave that trimps like to live in. Why weren't they able to live there before? How could these friendly critters be confined to only the exact spot where THAT thing, he looks back where he came from, not remembering that he piloted the wrecked ship to its current resting place, crashed? This is really strange. I'll let them fill up this cave before advancing further. Wait, what about defenses? The hostiles never try to reclaim territory that they've lost, so he stops worrying about that fairly quickly.
8m22s: First hut is 0.3% first ever AP.
The trimps seem fairly easy to please in terms of living quarters. Two move into his first hut and start raising a child. The human has his tent, uniform, and the heater pilfered from his space suit. Not much of a mud fan.
9m59s: Miners in Z1c30.
Oh, what's on this data card? Sl3niw? Oh, I'm holding the pad upside down. Miners. I can teach trimps how to mine ores and smelt met- 200 units of food? Each job is getting more expensive to train a trimp for. He puts his bee nickels to his eyes and spots another data card probably 10 enemies away. "Sc"? Does that means science? I can teach trimps to do science??
13m57s: Scientists in Z1c40.
Due to the expense of training trimps, the human couldn't afford to build them shields until now, he's got Sh1-3 made for the fighter to capture the science training data card. 14m02s: One head went into that turtlimp shell, that of his fighter, but two came out: his fighter still has his head on, and he managed to get the turtlimp's head off. It rushes off after the deadly penguimp in the next cell. The shields are not doing all that much good, actually, but they're better than nothing. The human picks up and loads the science data card and- Holy runny sugar-free fudge crap! 1000 food units, but it'll endow them with the ability to speak. Good. I'm getting bored with no one to talk to.
14m28s: Bloodlust purchased and AutoFight enabled (that delay after getting it is an effect of jacking up the job cost.)
As the human buries this expired little trimp warrior, he comes to the sobering realization that he has more trimp graves in his growing trimp colony than he does live trimps. And yet they seem more hopeful now than before I got to know any of them. They seem to think I'm the solution to all their problems or- Those two look east somberly, then notice that he's watching them and smile back and wave at him. ...one problem that is specific, but very, very huge for them. [The only reason I say 'east' is because that's right on a map, and the game advances right across a row, then up. I might say 'northeast' on occasion for that reason.]
20m47s: Z1c73, Miners taken.
Are you my new mining foreman? The trimp who took to the mining training has dark brown fur that lays flat on its head. It's unusual in not having any bits that stick out from its head, ahoge or whatever. This one is relatively quiet, and while it has assimilated the mining and smelting knowledge, it needs to bulk up to do any mining. Smelting is relatively easy, and getting a strong natural draft going in a furnace is almost trivial with the increased gravity. This trimp builds furnaces like nothing. And likes to nap in holes it digs right on the spot; it's weird that way. [Puchim@s Yukipo, and furnaces are not explicit in Trimps.]
21m58s: Farming in Z1c80.
The resourcing "books" are not data cards but paper scrolls, apparently lost to the trimps. It seems that they were civilized in the recent past and some calamity swept over the planet to reduce them to this. Did I have something to do with it? Amnesia sucks harder than a Dyson- ...what's a Dyson? Whatever, it sucks. This disaster happening just before I crash in the only spot with trimps still alive would be a seriously crazy coincidence! Something is really, really wrong about all this. [The author has not sought or received product placement permission or fee from Dyson Technology Ltd. or any resellers of their stuff, just they literally suck balls and made my favorite vacuum cleaner.]
23m50s: Builder in Z1c90.
They've rescued an, I dunno, gelding trimp? It just started to build a shed around the piled lumber I left to build one. It's really slow compared to me, and just banged its thumb, but it is super cute with that long reddish head fur. That particular trimp is also fascinated with pink ribbons and likes to decorate its head fur with them. Because of its inherent inability to participate in rearing children, it isn't counted in the population. [Puchim@s Io, builder on the basis of Iori seen building in 1x10.]
26m02s: Zone 2, 44 pop, 5.5s RC with Z0/1.
It's some sort of tactical manual - tactical coordination. Coordination! He's starting to sort out some trimpese on the research he has done so far. It needs a lot of metal, so they won't be able to implement it for some time. Hopefully, they're still good one at a time, but these enemies seem to be getting bigger as we go along. Uh oh!
27m33s: Gym in Z2c5.
It's some sort of training dojo or sporting arena. The human examines the ruins, I think I can back-engineer drawings for this, get one built, and see what happens.
29m02s: 1g, 47 pop, 10.8s RC with Z1/2.
The two fighting trimps now with their gym and coordination are dodging and blocking enthusiastically, and making much faster ground against the bad guys then a little while ago when it was just one trimp fighting at a time and unable to avoid the enemy hitting back.
40m46s: Fresh turkimp in Z2c74, 63 pop, 7.9s RC, Sh1-10, Da1-5, Bo1-3, Ma1-3, Hm1-3, 6g.
Oh, wow, the laborers seem really hot after this turkimp. He cooks it up and tries a slice. It's really awesome! I have to work alongside his laboring trimps to share it, but I'm getting used to the gravity now. That scroll we found back in Z2c10 really helped. Trimps' techniques and appliances for handicapped individuals, and I'm really handicapped in this higher gravity. He joins the woodcutters with the turkimp; they're the most numerous resource laborer right now, building more gyms, enough that the block/dodge ability of the fighting trimps is almost caught up to the enemy's ability to cause damage.
43m15s: Zone 3, 63 pop, 7.9s RC with Z1/2.
I'm neglecting my science and trimp scientists are really expensive. Curiously, that grey-haired one can't speak all that well, only says "Tai" and "Shijou", but it can write and draw like nobody's business. It's the only scientist so far. [Puchim@s Takanya: Online references probably still claim that she can utter the first two syllables of any word, but she can actually utter only the first two kana syllables of someone's name, most often the given name of basis human Takane Shijou, who also has that habit. (All the utterances of the puchidoru are based on the speech foibles of their basis humans except maybe Piyopiyo, where I haven't seen anything match up so far.)]
47m32s: Finally, we can make drywall and houses. 59m30s: Z3c77, 94 pop, 7.8s RC.
Oh, those poor things are really struggling up at the front. These trimps are enthusiastic and know no fear, but I still feel like telling them to stop for a while. I don't have the heart to keep them from trying while they're still doing some damage.
1h05m24s: Zone 4, 107 pop, 9.3s RC with Z3/4. 1h15m26s: Zone 5, 120 pop, 8.2s RC with Z3/4.
"What is that?" the human asks. He has three scientists. His first does all the writing, but the other two can actually speak. One of them hops up on a rock spire beside the human to reach his eye level.
At the next ridge line, over the lowest and most passable gap in the terrain, this really mean looking hovering sausage monster.
"I dunno," the scientist trimp shrugs, "But it's making me hungry. Looks like a perfectly cooked frankfurter from here." [John Morell's dubious dirigibles.]
"Oh, yeah," the human nods, "that's a blimp."
"A blimp?" the trimp tilts its head quizzically at the human, "How could you know?"
"I wish I could tell you, little buddy," the human extends his arm braces to descend the pass on the side of the zone boundary in the boss enemy's direction, then grunts, "Let's go kill it."
1h16m11s: Z1c9, 120 pop, 10.3s RC with Z4/5. 1h33m34s: Zone 6, 151 pop, 7.4s RC with Z4/5.
1h33m54s: TP in Z1c3.
"What's this?" the human asks, having picked up the little square document with the curling corners.
"Oh," the hungry scientist looks at it, "It's a garden path, follow me."
"You want to lead me down the garden path?" the human says.
"Yeah," the scientist says.
"Are you kidding?" the human asks.
"No," says the other scientist, "We don't get human humor. Listen, these fighters can't go, let them wear themselves out here, then we'll take the next group through this garden."
"Okay," the human nods, watching two more trimps join the fray as he issues the Z5 coordination orders, "they're doing pretty well after all that block training research we just wrapped up." [That's a common artifact, even in normal games, Z5 Traintacular combines with many gyms, enough population to add several trainers, affording Blockmaster, which is expensive on a run zero, plus a break on Tion Z5, a 40% all-stat increase. I don't think Zach designed it into the game on purpose, it just worked out this way.]
1h34m07s: 151 pop, 10.5s RC with Z5/7. 1h37m44s: Drop from Z6c39, TP for 3.
"Now we have these access map frags we can use to route through the old trimpopoli," the scientist explains, "Atlimpis for food, Morimpa for gems, Everimp for metal, and Impazon for wood."
"What about the garden?" the human asks.
"Well, we got lucky with Tricky Paradise," the scientist says, "but you can randomize the route and maybe get lucky. What's with that look?"
"Somehow, I'm remembering 'frag' as something that blew up with deadly pieces," the human says. [Different video games - ones with better graphics and worse gameplay Ｏ(>▽<)Ｏ]
1h39m59s: Blues back up to the top on series I...
"Tai, Tai!" the first ever trimp scientist stops the human just before he upgrades the mace and dagger to Mk.6 and Mk. 8 respectively. It has a note for him.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" the human asks, "Do you think that's my name?"
"Shijou, Shijou," it nods as though to indicate, I KNOW it is. Then it proffers its note again. The human takes it and reads, "Don't upgrade the first row equipment right now."
"Why not?" the human asks.
"Shijou," it points at the end of the mapped route, where there's a scroll sticking out of the thistles.
2h24m07s: Zone 8, 224 pop, 12.2s RC with Z7/12.
"Your settlement is getting crowded, there's Trimps in the streets, and you're taking heat. You feel a sudden strong desire to create a map, though you're not quite sure how that would help."
2h49m10s: Zone 9, 357 pop, 9.5s RC with Z8/15.
"You can't shake the feeling that you've been here before. Déjà-vu?"
The trimps really seem to like the new high capacity mansions, and the village has rapidly expanded since they started building them.
"There's something familiar about this," the human says.
"Tai," the grey one that writes clings to his arm and shows him a note that says, "Don't give up now."
"We must persist," says the yellow one has found a foothold it can grab onto and grabs the human's shoulder gently, "If you give up to early, we'll never solve this. You'll be stuck here forever."
The human puts his hand over the trimp's paw on his shoulders, then looks at him, "I can die, too."
"No, you can't," the trimp says quietly, "Please don't test that, tall one."
"Death is just another path..." he remembers.
"Gan," the grey one squeaks. [That's the first two kana syllables of "Gandalf"]
"...one that we all must take," the human continues, "The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it-"
"A green mist," the yellow trimp interrupts, "flash of fire, we're all gone and our progress forgotten. The wandering stars return to that day, and you again crash that ship- ...a little better every time."
"Wait," the human looks around, "have I been here before?"
"I-" the yellow trimp tries in futility to share what little it knows, "...or... somebody got just a little coolant into the-"
"Into the what?"
"This side up," the grey one's note says.
"Into the that," the yellow one points at the note, "It really helped. You- ...I don't think we've ever had mansions before."
Well, of course they didn't have mansions before. That was one of my ship's data cards. How did it get way out here? Will anything start to make sense?
3h02m13s: Zone 10, 387 pop, 8.7s RC with Z8/15; '28s: 11.1s RC with Z9/19. 3h16m41s: Tough snimp after food book, L10 rand dept from lo-hi-med 118/25/96, 4 Items.
"That's twice our frags led us to gem-rich Moria," the human says.
"Morimpa," the new red trimp scientist corrects, there now being 5 scientists. [There'd be more if there were more turkimp.]
"The question is how do we use all these gems?" the human looks at the village zoning plans again, "I like those mansions and all, but they use hardly any gems compared to, well-" he gestures at the pile of over two dozen thousand gems they've gathered, "-that! And still a lot of wood and lumber."
"I think there's something," the yellow one sighs, "I wish I knew more."
Quite some time later, after they're done looting that route for equipment plans, the trimps are again advancing through Zone 10, and he hears it.
"Tai?" the grey one wonders.
"Where are you going?" the yellow one asks.
"To the farm," the human answers.
"Whatever for?" the red one seems exasperated.
"Shijou?" the grey one sighs, then looks at the fighting front. It's been around long enough to remember, "Shijou!"
"You guys already get so much to eat this doesn't do you much good," the human explains.
3h32m33s: L11 112/35/78 rand sea, dropped from Z11c6 with disband, 4.
"What's wrong?" the red one asks.
The human comforts one of the wounded. Once trimps start into a zone fight, they have to finish before they bleed out. He's really bothered making them desert in front of that second turkimp. "They had a lot left in them," he sighs, rubbing his eyes, "but we can't keep that much dead turkimp at once, we have to leave it alive to use up all of this one."
"Shijou," the grey one presents a note, "We need this map right away, anyway. Don't worry about it, Tightniks."
"Tightniks?" he looks at the grey one, "Is that me? How do you know?"
"Tai," the grey one points at the top of the human's left breast pocket.
"Ah, crud," the yellow one curls its tail around in front of itself as trimps do when they're embarrassed, "Is that really a name tag?"
The human hadn't even noticed it since the green flash blew up his memory as he was stepping out of the ship.
4h04m22s: Block (sub-8h AP is only 0.3%), taking it, 504 pop, 9.8s RC with Z10/24.
It's a pretty thick book about using shields for block instead of hit points. The pad has the stats analysis. Sh3-1 is only giving us 9% of our hit points. Turning to his trimp scientists, he says, "It seems to me to be worth it."
"Let's," the yellow one nods.
"Shijou," it hands him a note, "It scales badly, but that won't matter for a long time. I think there's a way to undo it before it matters."
"Doing it." The human takes out his pad and starts scanning.
4h29m05s: L14 rand moun 137/26/80 is really good for a lo-hi-med. 4h30m52s: Hotels.
"Ah," the yellow one says, "I knew there was something. That must be it."
5h08m09s: L15 lo-hi-hi rand gard 129/28/82 (just got explorers). 5h09m32s: Picked up Wall.
"Dam," the human says.
"Damn?" the red one chuckles.
"No," the human says, "Earthen wall dam; it's a thing that makes artificial lakes by holding rivers back."
"Lakes?" the yellow one asks, "Rivers?"
"Oh yeah," the human says, "This planet doesn't have enough rain for those..."
5h48m21: Leaving Wall from about c70 to fetch Tion Z15.
"You can't resume the map from the same point if you start another," the human reads the grey one's note.
"We can go back to the same point on that route if we hold there and finish Zone 15, right?" Tightniks asks.
"Shijou!" it seems to be saying yes.
"Yes," the yellow one adds, "but we're out of Series III upgrades, and you need a fresh map route to start up Series IV."
"We should be okay," Tightniks says, "but if we have to start it over, I don't see that being a big deal." As they advance through the rest of Zone 15, Tightniks resumes his usual duties at the research desk instead building and running traps like he was before.
The trimps seem hopeful at this decision.
5h49m10s: Fresh turkimp. 5h50m16s: Zone 16, 1071 pop, 13.4s RC with Z15/75, 13m43s turkimp (skel in c1.)
"Z:16 Seriously? Another Blimp so soon?"
"So," Tightniks lowers his bee nickels and looks at the red one, "is it going to be boss fights at the end of every zone from now on?"
"Hmm," the red trimp looks up past the human at some random rock spire or cloud.
"Well?" the human persists.
"Yup," he says.
"Hmph," Tightniks grabs a Sw3-1 of the rack and advances towards the front, "Before then, we have another Mister Titanium."
"What does he like about skeletimps?" the red one asks the grey one as the human marches off.
"Shijou?" the grey one seems just as confused by that.
"He's not going back to the ship, and he's not getting himself killed," the yellow one smiles, "so I'll take it."
5h58m32s...
"Hey guys, go for the mortar!" the human suggests to his 75 fighting trimps in the Wall's boss fight.
"I can tell from your bedtime stories that you're used to the artillery in that other place," the yellow one gripes, "but fighting works differently here, there's no artillery."
And the human instantly collapses laughing, the scientists a little worried he might have injured himself in the planet's severe gravity. But he's okay, at least physically, "Mortar is the stuff between the bricks, fellas. That's is a brickimp, right?"
5h59m18s: Wall, 1076 pop, 13.3s RC, 1% AP for sub-8h finish, first L16 roll good 156/35/84 moun, 10 for the metal.
Beyond the Wall was a more edenic section of the trimpolis ruins, doubling the production of the lumberjacks. The trimps are actually really happy with the mode of all of the laborers moving between the three big jobs, along with the turkimp, except for the foremen specialized at leading the job. It isn't enough to boost their productivity, but the human goes to them with trays of sandwiches.
6h06m52s: 50 map run 0.3% AP...
6h19m13s: Zone 17, 1141 pop, 16.0s RC with Z16/94, no turkimp.
"Z:17 You climb a large cliff and look out over the new Zone. Red dirt, scorched ground, and devastation. Is that a Dragimp flying around out there?!"
"Hmm," the human surveys the new zone with his bee nickels, "Looks like crap. Any ideas?"
"You're the idea man," the yellow one groans.
"Set the map flag," he puts his bee nickels away, "We'll run a depth for practice and to load up on gems for more hotels."
"Righto," the red one gets to work.
6h44m34s: First DCP. (Draglimp Care Package; I refuse to call it a tribute.)
"Oh," the human says, "It's tame now, so it brings back gems in exchange for food?" He looks at his gaping scientists, "That's what it looks like, huh? Guys? Yo!"
"Tai..." the grey one sighs.
Draglimp, the dragimp imprinted on Tightniks, lands beside the human, drops some gems at his feet, and accepts some scratching behind its horns before diving into the food bowl.
"You tamed a dragimp???" Grey's note says.
"Well," the yellow one huffs, "I guess that happened."
8h18m53s: L20 depth of 154/27/79.
"Mapping up here?" the red one half closes one eye and tilts his head.
"Yeah," the human says while fitting together the depth map fragments, "With the coordination book not right at the end, we have an extra mark of coordination to take advantage of. Let's take our housing up to 2000 or so, shall we?"
"Okay," the yellow one says from a pile of logs, "What's all the wood for?" They had been collecting it for days now.
"The series upgrades follow a rather specific pattern," Tightniks explains, "Just on the other side of this blimp is Zone 21, where we should be able to find the Shield series V, right?"
"Shijou!" the grey one nods.
8h56m17s: 1% AP for 100 map runs, leaving it, 1751 pop, 24.8s RC with Z20/232. 8h56m54s: Zone 21...
"Ooooookay," Tightniks growls, "There is something off about this thing."
"Shijou?" the grey one looks at the yellow one with concern about their human starship pilot friend.
The human stoops, picks up the little green gem on the ridge between Zone 20 and 21, looks at it, huffs, and asks, "Any idea where this comes from?"
"Err..." the red one seems hesitant to say, "I think you made it."
"Really?" the human huffs, "How could that be?" Then he tosses it at Red, "See if anything reacts to it. It might be radioactive, so we should take turns to minimize exposure."
"Really?" Red's holding it now, "What makes you say that?"
"Because I'm pissed off for no reason I can figure out," the human says, "I think it's coming from that."
"Frags," the red one says quickly, "I think it's arranging a route. You're good with maps," it tosses the gem to the grey scientist.
"Shijou," the grey one says hopefully, and has a map drawn within a few minutes. [Whether it looks like the one in Puchim@s 1x61 is anyone's guess. That one annoyed me as well as Chihya.]
9h02m37s: L21 moun first roll was a decent 160/26/84. 9h21m00s: Starting run 5 of that map...
Tightniks had taken his anger out on some food and wood to build about 8000 traps. Now he's leaning against a rock spire in his increasingly tattered uniform. A nap begins, perhaps unintentionally.
Wild trimps are examining the pile, finding it unwelcoming, and also finding no place in the town, just mill about. It looks like they want to help.
"Ku?" it's a blue trimp, probably a farmer waiting for stuff to grow, climbs up on the rock spire the human is leaning against, starts patting him on the head, "Ku. Ku ku." [Puchim@s Chihya.]
9h23m09s: Still working that lap...
Tightniks wakes up from that nap, and the grey one is standing there. "Shijou," it says with a note of concern, although not much of one. The note it holds says, "It wasn't me."
"Oh, what wasn't you, buddy?" He stretches out a bit, feeling somewhat refreshed. It feels like somebody washed his face and hair while he was sleeping.
The grey one is also holding a small mirror, apparently broken off from a larger mirror and with the sharp edges filed down to make the edges safe.
The human takes it from the grey trimp and holds it in front of his face to discover that somebody has bound up all his hair into about twenty little pigtails. He touches them with his other hand to confirm. "Eh, whatever." He hands the mirror back and goes back to sleep. [Puchim@s Koamimami.]
9h30m08s: The following run...
"He's not throwing stuff every which way yet," the yellow one whispers to the red one, watching the human snoozing with his pad on his knee.
"You remember that, too?" the red one asks.
"'Remember'?" the yellow one turns to face the red one, "I s'pose that's better than imagining it."
"I remember it, too," the grey one says via a playing card sized note.
"If we're stuck in a time loop," the yellow one sighs, "maybe this cycle will be different."
"Tai..." the grey one admires him for a moment. Then thumbs in the direction of the mountain, "Heh, Shijou!" it laughs.
9h35m58s: Run 8, c9 of that map.
The scientists nap and take notes, and meditate and take notes, and draw stuff. The grey one often storyboards for the other nine because it's the best at drawing stuff. They have come up with a list, and most probably "order" (they're debating whether their ranking means "order" (sequence of things happening over the various loops) or "frequency" (what proportion of previous loops they have happened in). But they've come up with this, from first (or perhaps most often) to most recent (or perhaps least often):
- The ship crashes (they're pretty sure that happens every loop) - The human builds huts - The human teaches some of his trimps to speak and do science - The human builds houses - The human makes maps - The human builds mansions - The human blows up and gets himself killed somewhere around Z17 to Z21, often on a dragimp - The human only recently/occasionally builds hotels - The human only recently/rarely tamed a dragimp - The human only recently/rarely maps the Dimension of Anger
They're all agreed that that they have never finished the Dimension of Anger. What they are not all agreed on is that they've never done this conference to figure out whether they're in a time loop or what that might mean. [See also Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "Cause and Effect" ...which was sort of a time loop but they weren't going back in time. It's very interesting, but its meta makes no sense - no one ever went looking for the Bozeman in 80 years? No one who went looking for the Bozeman also got stuck? No one noticed the passage of time outside the little area of space where the not-quite-a-time-loop was happening? Errr... sci-fi writers, don't be half-assed about your time loops, lmao! Be like Harold Ramis- ...what am I saying?? (That would be Groundhog Day, which grafted a time loop into a romcom; there are no other sci-fi elements. But it was a full-blown time loop and not half-assed like "Cause and Effect".)]
9h54m06s: Dropped from Z21c95...
I think it would be a bad idea to bypass that green area, as much as I'd rather not face it. Both his domesticated trimps, which are breeding up a new group of fighters, and the wild trimps he has decided just now not to open the traps for, stare at him and point in that direction. He shoulders a huge Shield V-3 and grabs an Mace IV-2 as well and announces, "We're doing it." Thus equipped, he marches off into the Dimension of Anger.
10h27m53s: Taking Pi4-2; recently had taken Pa4-2...
The group at the front had expired, and the snimp in DoAc95 glares at the advancing colony of trimps, which had halted only because of it. It refuses to counterattack the vulnerable colony and its human, instead snorting and huffing, waiting for the next bunch of 232 fighting trimps to come in range.
Tightniks runs along the line of traps, releasing the recently tamed trimps, singing a song that he doesn't remember the meaning of, that he doesn't remember was crafted by an ethnically Chinese guy out of an African language, and later mastered by two caucasians over the internet before they ever met in person. "Baba yetu yetu uliye, mbinguni yetu yetu amina..." because it just happened to be stuck in his head. [Because the Doylian author decided on a whim to. Christopher Tin got it into Civilization IV and at the time (2010 July), I made the best video for it on YouTube, which got subsequently blown to shreds when Peter Hollens and Malukah re-recorded the song from scratch in their own voices and instruments in 2014, pity with no English translation, the purpose of my video.]
Noticing the last batch of metal he needs coming out of the furnace, he waves the waiting grey scientist to fire up the forge [to use the term properly and not as the game does], for it was time to wrap up the forging dies for the Spetum IV, Mark 2 pike heads.
"Shijou!" the grey one cheers, setting aside a snack that looks like maybe ramen, and starts jumping up and down on the bellows handle.
It takes a while for the human to chip out the tip in the two halves of the forging die, and then polish it, and then heat it up in the forge, and then quench it, inspect it, and put it into service crafting thousands of new pike heads for the fighting trimps.
But only one second passed on the map frame clock (10h27m54s) four cells behind that snimp, in the case being brooded over by this huge, and if it's honest, rather concerned megablimp.
10h35m45: Portal PB, 45 He, 4.247 He/hr, 1891 pop, 22.7s RC with Z20/232, no turkimp.
The last head of the map's boss monster goes limp as one of the fighting trimps' mace heads bounces of it, and the huge thing settles on its tail, resting on the package that seems to be the prize of this map. And there's a popping sound, and then something mechanical.
Is that a scroll compressor? Tightniks looks at the package. The deflating monster's lifting envelope material drapes over everything underneath it. "Red, Shijou!" he snaps and points, "roll up that side of it. Keep this part from sucking down on the extractor nozzle!"
All ten of the scientists jump in, literally, pushing the gas in the bag towards the compressor. Tightniks as well, rolling up the front.
Until he kicks, and nearly trips over, a smaller package that might be the explanation for the reason why the center of the monster's defense seemed to be a little away from the big package he could see. It's in the right place, he realizes. He gets it uncovered and reads stenciled-and-sprayed block letters on it:
"DT TIME PORTAL / THIS SIDE DOWN"
Perhaps the Dimension of Anger is so named because of the rage suddenly rising up in Tightniks' throat. It isn't so much as the free-floating aggression suddenly has an answer, there is definitely a fresh batch of rage and anger as he grips the nearest Mace IV, Mark 3 with both hands and gets it over his shoulder, its target obviously this object, anger at the realization he screams at the top of his lungs, "We are stuck in a mutha FAH-king time loop!!" His swing begins. [Tightniks almost never cusses, unlike Snugniks.]
2024.05.15 04:51 Storms_Wrath The Human Artificial Hivemind Part 512: The Pact Of Blades
First Previous Wiki
Ezeonwha was walking down a long hallway. The dry and plain painted walls and the pure white lighting of the lower levels of the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office helped to frame the dingy realities of those who could only afford these floors. Not even capable of having windows, these were for those who were the cheapest of the cheap or those who mingled with them. He'd passed several Guides on the way in, their claws echoing in the halls as a sign of authority in this lawless land.
Here, mediocrity was king, and he was a loyal servant. He drew his cloak closer about his neck, unwilling to reveal himself to those who weren't already equipped to see through it all. He was famous enough to be an abduction target if he let his guard down. This place was no exception, though Justicar tried to make them such. Too much security on the higher levels and too little on the lower levels. That was the way of things.
Another hallway, this one marked with bullet holes. Two contractors and a Guide were discussing the pricing of the fix project when he turned the corner. Their voices quieted to nothing, the stillness pressing down upon them with the same intensity as the false lighting. Ezeonwha clacked his jaws, giving them a low bow before continuing on his way. He saw the Guide's eyes light up with the sign of his implants getting a reading. It was another impromptu way of tracking via facial recognition, but it was an ancient practice.
Nothing was new about what the Guides did; only how many of them seemed to be on general patrol. Had Justicar hired more of them or actually done full conversions for all of them? Those arm cannons surely weren't cheap or ethical to insert into unwilling participants. And giving a victim a gun they couldn't be disarmed of was a very bad idea, even for Elders. And Justicar was better than most Elders when it came to abject stupidity. He'd likely only been dropped a few hundred times as a child versus the more likely Elder average of a few thousand.
Ezeonwha chuckled at his internal joke, heading deeper underground into the complex. He was going to a certain meeting, and it would be best not to be late. Even if the Guides tracked him, it wouldn't be negative. The group he had been approached by a few days ago wasn't a terror group. He'd looked them up. They dealt in 'freedom and liberation from all chains.'
The Eyes Of Liberty had focused upon Penny as their latest propaganda target and perhaps as a valuable ally in their fight against all tyranny. Though such a flowery message was likely steeped in idealism for the lower ranks, with more pragmatic and likely richer inner circle elites and leaders ensuring the pot would always simmer but never boil or grow cold. That was the way movements such as these managed to skirt the line between inaction and terrorism.
It was a dangerous thing to do. But these were dangerous times. If Penny left, he'd die. Someone with a grudge would kill him. It was a given, and he'd made peace with it now. He needed to get to work, to help others like him and those worse off, with just a small piece of the meager time he had left.
He was in the system as a friend of Penny, so little scrutiny would fall on him as he came and went. He had a new friend, one who was very interested in connecting to Penny.
The offer had come through his communicator, and he'd answered it given its interesting title. After a lengthy discussion about their goals for him and Penny, he'd agreed to at least have a meeting. He didn't tell them that he had a tracker from Phoebe, which would 'be impossible to miss' if things went badly. He knew the value he had, which was why one of the androids was also accompanying him under the guise of being a Sprilnav.
The android was 'walking' on all fours, its mechanical motion entirely silent. It was obscured by a wave of holograms and hard light holograms that would ensure that it wouldn't be considered suspicious beside him. His only guard was a capable one, and Phoebe had all the confidence of an AI who knew that the destruction of her android would only be an inconvenience for her.
Ezeonwha came to an unmarked door with a well-worn door frame. One knock. One pause. Two knocks. Another pause. Four knocks. He waited, and the door swung open. Eight Sprilnav greeted him warily but warmly, their eyes shifting to Phoebe.
The inside of the room was a dull red, coming from a pair of lights in the center of the ceiling that cast dark shadows near the edges. The whole room felt dark and dangerous, and the walls were lined with guns, computers, and several drones. Shelves and drawers were neatly stacked against the wall, as well as five couches and four double beds with ladder access to the top portions.
Bags of food rested atop a trash compactor unit, and the room service button on the inner side of the wall that Ezeonwha could see in the mirror was worn down to the raw metal. No paint jobs here, only grit and business. The room faintly smelled of body odor and assorted foods. Not entirely unpleasant, but also not what he'd expected from a group with sich a flamboyant name. Perhaps they worked in cell-based units. And that was another thing.
Minds were visible in the distance of the mindscape, but the people here were huddled together mentally. They appeared to be haphazard, but Ezeonwha recognized an old army-type defensive formation a mere step from each of their positions. They were more than they appeared. Though based on how their room looked, they probably weren't veterans, just decently trained.
As they walked through the doorway, a scanner activated. One of the Sprilnav, wearing a headset with numbers and letters swirling on the inner side of the visor, called out: "Phoebe android. Commando variant. Risk assessment: Certain Death. Ezeonwha. Carrying two pistols, one hidden in the pack on his left, and the other tucked inside a strap near the lower bottom of his chest."
That made them all pause, sizing each other up. Ezeonwha smiled nervously, failing terribly to break the building tension once again. His nerves started to get to him, but finally, Phoebe spoke. "Well, friends. I, for one, am happy to talk of the business of liberty. Tell us, what do you have in mind for my friend Ezeonwha?"
"It is not about him, AI. It is about the freedom all sentient beings deserve, and which we shall bring to the galaxy no matter if we are alive or dead."
"An honorable goal to strive toward," Phoebe said.
"Thank you. Your words are quite kind for your type."
"I didn't know I had one," Phoebe replied. "But thank you."
Ezeonwha turned his head toward the Sprilnav with all the fancy equipment.
"What is the best way for me and Penny to help in the fight?"
"The best way would be for you to start killing the gang leaders you come across. Barring that, have Penny ignore the graveyards, and continue freeing the slaves as she ought to. The dead have their freedom; the living need her work more."
"I agree with my companion," another of them said. "So far, Penny has done more for the fight for justice than any other on Justicar in generations, so it is a terrible thing to ask more, but we must ask. Even knowing the terrible toll it would have if she loses the Judgment, Sprilnav are at stake."
"People are at stake, you mean," Ezeonwha said. "There is no need to bring species into this."
"There would not be, but it is still a clear factor," another of them said, a female who looked more shifty in her gaze and demeanor. The Eyes of Liberty seemed like one of those groups with too much division.
"Do you disagree with each other often?" Ezeonwha asked innocently.
"Here and there," the tech guy said. "Not often enough to be a problem, and not when what matters is at stake."
"But that is the thing. How can you agree on when something that matters is a stake?"
"Is this a test?"
"Why would it be? Think of it as a genuine concern," Ezeonwha said. "To associate with your group, I have to be certain it will be resilient to change and risks escalating in the future. If the gangs cannot strike at Penny, they will pick the next best targets. Currently, that is me. If I associate with you in a way they can find out, and I assure you they will find out eventually, you all may be at risk as well. And your group's seemingly cell-based design also means large scale mobilization is difficult, ineffective, and risks severe coordination issues which cannot be quickly or safely remedied without changing core security features of it."
"You deduced all of that from context? You are smart, Ezeonwha. And have a good brain in your head. Everlasting knows we need one of those between all of us."
They all shared a laugh.
"I am not as young as I may look," Ezeonwha said. "Penny is not properly learned of the danger that faces us here. I am. The Underground will kill me when this is over. Do you want to die alongside me, all for your beliefs?"
Silence descended again. Ezeonwha kept the pressure on them when one of them stepped forward. "For freedom and liberty? Yes. I would die for that."
"As would I."
"And I."
They all declared the rest in orders that followed the patterns Ezeonwha was noticing. There were variances in their levels of belief and faith in their purpose. Each person had a different level of value difference, which meant that their lives would be worth more or less comparatively.
Cohesion was weaker, too. Not a full defector team, but likely pieces of several. Was that by design from a higher up leader, or was that just circumstance? Another thing to figure out later, that wasn't critical yet, but he would know before he truly went on any missions with them, if he did at all.
He suspected running messages to Penny would be the majority of their tasks. The quality of intelligence the Eyes of Liberty had offered was substantial. Perhaps enough for Penny to turn herself from a major annoyance to the gangs into an actual existential threat. With Justicar's swarming protection of the Fort Court and the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office, there was a limited amount of things that even the gangs could do. And if the rumors were correct, a Progenitor would be partaking in the trial.
"To be clear, if I join up with you, Phoebe would come too."
"Why would we let an AI join us?"
Phoebe smiled. "Without me, you'll die in this fight. You have trained for around 2000 days. You're acceptable combatants, as is Ezeonwha. But you are fighting in a city, and underneath it. You need to know how to keep a low profile. You need to know how to move through a crowd, get in and out. And you need to keep collateral damage to a zero, or the gangs will use you like they have others who had your purpose and were less careful to justify their 'protection' continuing. If you march in there and kill 50 slavers, if you kill a few slaves or a single bystander in the process, your credibility will be smeared. And frankly, with me on your team, you won't get blown up by an IED when you try clearing your first room in a fortress."
"IED?" One of them asked, while the rest digested her statement, going through various levels of offended looks.
"Your translator is too cheap. Improvised explosive device. Here, that can be old engines, reused oil, cracked plastic, frictional fuel bombs, circuit extruders, sodium splash grenades, as well as the more military style attacks they can pack, from small micro rockets all the way up to lower level fission or fusion bombs. Though if you're in a fight with those things involved, you're already dead."
"Why?"
"Because unless you're Elders, or holograms, a nuke will kill you whether you're right next to it or just inside the same shield. They concentrate the thermal pulse, so your bones would be ash before the pain hit your eyes."
"And what protection could you bring against that?"
"Telling you it's there before you start the attack. That is, if you listen to me. I value your lives over that of this android, but also I value Ezeonwha over all of you combined. I will not prevent him from doing this, but I will have you all know the risks involved."
"We are prepared, Phoebe. We have done much of the training you say, though we do not believe the gangs would plant explosive devices in their own fortresses. There is too much risk around that, with betrayals so common. However, the minefields we have scouted are easy to defeat with the right tactics. Perhaps you can give us a briefing on those, too?"
A challenge.
"I can, depending on how long you wish to do this for. But I have the stamina for either hours or weeks, depending on which you choose."
"What of your batteries?"
"They are of sufficient quality," Phoebe assured.
"I hope so."
Their tech guy nodded, more numbers flashing on his visor. Ezeonwha hoped he had a different way of display, like through an implant or something, for the missions in darker areas. The Underground was, by its name, not a place where much natural light was to be found. And the gangs controlled all the power systems in their territory. It was another part of the racket.
"Why aren't you guarding Penny?"
Phoebe's back straightened, a subconscious posture change to make her seem more confident. Ezeonwha caught the tactic for what it was, though without extensive knowledge of bipedal forms, it was less likely the surrounding Sprilnav knew it.
"Penny proved before a trillion eyes she's capable of fighting Elders, Progenitors, and a Dreadnaught Captain. Not to mention her immense power. I can shoot bullets, but she can literally snatch them out of the air and eat them. She has her own way of doing things, and it is a good way."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Penny landed in the rubble and headed for the Vaquah with a trail of survivors behind her. Many of them, she could recognize the marks of slavery on, with numbers or brands on their skin or just the trauma crouching in their eyes dulled by the pain of a long life in a work camp. Penny went through the wreckage to the shield surrounding the rubble and the defining line between the rest of the city and the destruction. Several news drones flew above her.
More were arriving from various directions. The soft footsteps grew into a constant drumming sound, like a beating heart of doom. Penny marched with them, heading to the spaceport. A large medical operation there quickly rerouted many of its various branches to the most injured freed slaves.
Penny pressed her considerable psychic energy on the entire group, accelerating their healing, slowing bleeding, and generally repairing their bodies and cells from the trauma they'd suffered. But the cloud over their heads did not brighten. The atmosphere remained tense and mournful. Many of them had lost friends, family, and more. She had no right to ask them to feel any different.
She had freed them, that was all. They were not her servants. She was not their ruler.
Several of them came up to her, offering thanks in the small ways they could. Kind words. Attempts at hugs. Even offers of devout prayer and worship, which Penny respectfully declined. She knew, as did most of them, that veneration for her deeds was inevitable. She didn't want to be seen encouraging it at all, since this was a public place where many eyes were upon her.
She knew that it would be misconstrued as a threat if she did. Religions were some of the most major threats entrenched powers could face if not properly co-opted by the state to suit their needs. And here, the 'state' was a military dictatorship billions of years old, ripened with corruption, money, and the immortality of Elders sporting technology beyond any other in the galaxy.
The sky was blue with shields overhead. The Vaquah hung in the distance, its thrusters gently burning to keep it aloft. A trail of shuttles linked the massive ship with several spaceports, including this one. Penny watched the freed Sprilnav get on it one by one, promising themselves to a new life aboard her ship. Technically, they were citizens of the Autonomous Peoples' Stars.
That protection, Penny knew, was why the Vaquah and its innocent inhabitants were still intact. Elders already had hired mercenaries to attack it. They'd failed, thanks to Rimiaha and Penny, but also the defenses of Kashaunta's Grand Fleet when it was in higher orbit. Kashaunta, despite her willingness to use Penny as she would, also had a certain intelligence and empathy. It was highly selective, and only money and power seemed to flip that switch.
But Penny needed the Elder, and Kashaunta only had use for her as an asset. She palmed the new communicator Kashaunta had issued her after the last one's destruction. Kashaunta's hologram appeared. It looked around, noticing the news drones in the air.
"Not here."
"Where?"
"You will know."
In the mindscape, a Sprilnav appeared on Penny's layer. They felt odd to her, almost like the minds of certain humans high up in the hivemind's network. Penny greeted the Sprilnav warmly.
"Hello."
"Queen and Elder Kashaunta requests your presence on her flagship."
"Very well."
In reality, Penny looked around at the crowd. She waited until it dwindled to nothing, and then spoke.
"Displace."
Conceptual energy twisted, and she stood on Kashaunta's flagship, though nearer to the edge than she'd expected. The Elder was waiting for her in an outfit that looked much like pajamas, though they were under a few armor pieces that appeared anything but decorative. Now that Penny noticed it, it was the same sort of armor that Yasihaut had worn to their last encounter, which interfered with conceptual energy. The Sprilnav were highly advanced. She wondered just how far their technology could go. She'd heard mentions of some ships having artificial gravity, and of nanites and programmable matter. But nothing certain.
"Hmm," Kashaunta said, giving Penny a once over. "You have come back. Shall I assume you are still my ally?"
"Nervous, are we?"
"Nervous is what you should be, Penny. The Judgment is coming. Ten days. Indrafabar and Justicar will both be on the court as High Judges. That is not good for us at all. So I figured a bit of prudence was in order. I have thought long and hard about this, and with the great battles of our time so fast approaching, I figure it is time to mend our relationship before the chasm grows any wider."
Kashaunta motioned to a special looking sword sheath on her back. Slowly, she drew a sword. A Soul Blade. Penny began to draw up her armor.
"Oh, I am not wishing for a fight, Penny. I know the damage you could do, even in my sanctum in the sky. Tell me, do you know how Soul Blades are forged?"
"No."
"Good. And tell me, do you know why they draw so much power to swing, even for Elders and beings as capable as us?"
"I have a few theories."
"I am sure you do," Kashaunta said. "But here is the thing. Soul Blades are typically weapons assigned to highly promising Elders, or even Progenitors. Filnatra, undisputed sword master that she is, can wield them as easily as breathing. If I were to swing this blade, there would be no drawback. Why?"
"Because you own that Soul Blade."
"Because this Soul Blade is mine. It is not just something I own. I own around seven or so more Soul Blades, with some weapons nearing their quality lying in my various vaults even now. You did not detect them, because I willed that not to be. I need you to understand this, Penny. You have power. You have might. But you are not invincible. My Soul Blade, if it struck you, would not cutely separate Nilnacrawla or Cardinality from you. Nor would your speeding space entity be able to block this blade with his flesh. If this cut you, it would release unending agony upon you before you exploded in a burst of burnt gore."
Penny sighed. "There is no need to threaten me. Allies do not threaten each other."
"But you do not see me as an ally. You see me as your means to get through the Judgment. You believe I see you as nothing more but a linear singularity maker, and perhaps a passing curiosity I'm backing on a whim. You neglect to imagine that there might be firmer reasons why I back you, and why more Elders are getting drawn into this conflict. You believe I am comfortable with showing you my more pragmatic and ruthless sides because I am comfortable with the fact that you cannot harm me. That you would not dare to do so, when you need my assistance so badly. That I might even be aiming to normalize my 'new' self with you."
"That is hardly my belief alone."
"Is it now."
Kashaunta grinned. There was no warmth in her gaze.
"Nilnacrawla," Kashaunta said. "Cardinality. Exile. Come out and show yourselves. You are being rude as guests."
Exile detached from Penny's head. He grew into the shifting array of fractals and shapes she was more familiar with. What had once grated on her eyes did so no longer. Kashaunta stared at the speeding space entity for ten seconds, then looked back up at Penny.
"He will not work on us. I will cover his form with holograms if he walks through my ship out of courtesy for my workers and crew, if he cannot."
"I am capable, Queen Kashaunta."
"You are quite knowledgable, aren't you?" Kashaunta mused, looking at him hungrily. "Oh, how I wonder what secrets you have in your head. How many of ours do you know?"
"I will not be taken as a hostage," Exile said.
"You will not because I decide not to," Kashaunta said. "Formally, our species are still at war. There is no treaty."
"The Sp'rkial'nova no longer exist."
"Yes, they do," Kashaunta said. "The name was discontinued for use regarding the lesser specimens we created. But I can assure you, Exile, if you wish to go by that name here, that we still do exist. I am a Sp'rkial'nova in the flesh. In the blood. In the mind. In the soul."
"Say what you will, Sprilnav. It changes nothing."
"On that I agree. Though our views on how things are may differ, and yours is wrong, your opinion is not valuable enough to matter."
She turned to Penny. She would have defended Exile, but he gave her a simple shake of his head area.
Nilnacrawla formed out of psychic energy in front of Penny. Cardi did the same beside her. Kashaunta tapped a claw on the ground. Tables and chairs appeared. A chef brought in food that looked passable and a few decent attempts at human cuisine.
"We do not have to eat, though I would expect that all of you at least sit at the table. We will discuss our grievances, and how to solve them before we proceed with the future. We shall first go to the matter of the Alliance. Penny, many in their number wish to establish contact with you. Do you agree to this? If so, I will add their communicator numbers to the translation program I have reserved for your personal use, in case your own device needs another sudden replacement."
"I agree."
"Good. A first step of diplomacy, I would say. Agreement. Now, Nilnacrawla, you look like you have something to say to me. What is it?"
"Free Meridia."
"Meridia was detonated by planet cracker during the 139th Sector 9 Border War. I am sorry more could not be done."
A cold draft of air rushed out of Nilnacrawla's nose. He glared at her. "You let them die."
"I did not. A Grand Fleet was defending that star system, and three came to lay siege. I am many things. A tactician, a queen, an Elder. But I am not a god. I cannot perform miracles. I evacuated 30 billion people from that world and its surrounding stations before the planet crackers hit it. 4 trillion more souls died in that blast. The best I can do is to offer an apology."
"That will never be enough for what you did. If you had never established your nation, they would still be alive."
"They would be slaves. Chattel slaves, not that cute little 'wage slavery' concept privileged people throw around. Perhaps I should remind you just how much darker that reality would have been for your female descendents, specifically. I am a brutal warlord, a dictator with an iron fist. But my claws do not squeeze nearly as tightly as I could. Metrics say that I could extract at least 370% more profit from my people if I simply enslaved them. But despite the shock this may bring to you all, I do have principles. The Autonomous Peoples' Stars are my people. My nation. My empire, if you think I'm imperialist. But I protect them as best I can."
Nilnacrawla's cold anger didn't lessen. Penny placed a calming hand on his front left thigh. He blinked. He let out a long, pained sigh. And he bowed his head to her. Not to Kashaunta, but to Penny.
"There is no need to be cruel."
"My language was accurate, Penny. He is a strong Elder. Everlasting knows he's stronger than most of these fools. Nilnacrawla was and is a hero of the Source war. I respect him enough not to mince words, or to give platitudes. Coddling is for babies. Nilnacrawla is far more mature."
Kashaunta turned to Cardi. "You have been remarkably silent in this, concept."
"I have."
"A wonderfully succinct statement. Perhaps you can shorten it further. But nevertheless, you and I will be working together with Penny much more in the near future. Rest assured, if you refuse to become more independent, you will be nothing more than a crutch for her to rely on before leaving her to fall when you are ripped away."
"When, Elder? I would like to think your protection is sufficient."
"I am sure the truth is quite the opposite, dear. I will now get to the point. Penny needs to move faster, and needs to break out of her shell. She needs to be pushed to do more. She has signed a binding treaty, which shows she is capable of more than barbarian aliens, as some Elders would call her. You, Cardinality, will help her be a high achiever. To do this, you need to learn more about your own history.
That is the theme of the year, after all. History. My history, Penny's history, Sprilnav history, and even Gaia's history, it would seem."
"Gaia? What do they have to do with all of this?" Penny asked.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that."
"Excuse me? You don't get to decide that, Kashaunta. You will tell me. I refuse to be coddled, like you say. I demand the respect I am owed."
"You forget yourself, Penny."
"I remember myself, actually. I am all I need to be. I can become all I need if I must. You can hold your backing against me all you want, but you won't withdraw it. As you said, more binds you and I than mere money and ideology."
"And if you're wrong?"
"Then I've doomed my species and my nation to war, and this planet to the full power of my wrath."
"Wrath, Penny. Wrath. The Sprilnav have many words for anger, rage, hatred. There is the desire for vengeance, in varying degrees. There is that for justice, which does differ. And that for belonging. I know you believe you are standing up to me as a way to assert your own authority in this relationship of ours. You believe I see you as inferior, and will pull back my help when it is profitable for me. I will not offer you the consequences of what your words could mean.
You already know them, and that argument is as stale as your view on us Elders. I will say this once, Penny. You are the Champion of Humanity. The apex predator of your planet, the only one mostly in charge of an Alliance that does more than merely dream of overthrowing us. It is easy for me to say you are not a threat, though I do not ignore the threat you and your nation are trying to become. Gaia will be a part of your movement, but even my information is not entirely complete. I will not mislead you by claiming I know Gaia's link to this, just that there likely is one.
And I am not unreasonably petty. I am willing to put all our animosity behind us and start anew. Even if you are not willing to do the same, I am willing to make this work for us. You have more people to care for than just the Alliance, now. Do not forget them."
"A lot of words that mean nothing."
"Because you heard, but did not listen. Perhaps it will be easier this way, Penny. I want you to win."
"Explain."
"You wish to overthrow the current Sprilnav led order of the galaxy. Your path to that will likely be through mass slave revolt. A viable strategy that I could spread far beyond just this planet. And I actually agree with you. This Judgment, this utter insanity around the Alliance and your species has shown me the truth. The Elders as a class and a species cannot be trusted to rule any longer. We need new leaders. Better leaders."
"And yourself?"
"As the hypocrite that I am, and the power-hungry ruler of the Sprilnav, I would obviously exclude myself from that number. Let's be realistic. The Sprilnav will never accept a non-Elder ruler. If you wish to see what our insurgencies would be like, imagine the 2090s Struggles of Asia. Expand that to billions of planets, large and small. Countless ships and space stations. We have more collective ships than you have people. And as your military planners know, there is no such thing as an unarmed ship. Without us, without me, your plans are stillborn. Your galactic Alliance or whatever you make will fall to pieces without proper counseling. In essence, my offer to you, and you alone, is this. The galaxy, for the Sprilnav."
"Who backs your offer, with the power to give it?"
Progenitors Lecalicus and Nova appeared in the room.
"I back Kashaunta," Lecalicus wheezed.
"I observe her offer, and wish it a proper outcome," Nova said.
"Thank you, esteemed Progenitors," Kashaunta said, standing just to bow to them. Penny stared at Nova, balling her fists.
"There will be time for battle later," he said. "But not now. Hear out her request. She does not make it lightly."
The Progenitors disappeared.
"If I accept your offer, it will be on a written record."
"No. It will not be, because if that record is written, my nation will be facing war on all sides. A better idea would be for us to keep this under wraps."
"Perfect for betrayal," Nilnacrawla muttered.
"It would be, yes. But consider the second part of this situation, Nilncrawla. If word of this galactic offer, not just the Pact, were to get out, which is why two Progenitors who know the price of interference were called here, it would mean the deaths of Penny and all her kind. Or do you forget what rapidly approaches us?"
Nilnacrawla frowned. "I did. I apologize, Penny."
Kashaunta spoke up again.
"Penny. You believe I will betray you. So I make an offer of collateral. An offer so unbelievably sacred for us Elders that many would recoil at the mere thought of it. Now that you have signed a backed treaty, you are fully qualified."
Kashaunta grabbed her Soul Blade and presented it to Penny.
"What does this mean?"
"Nilnacrawla, tell her," Kashaunta said. "She will trust your mouth more than mine."
"Bonded Soul Blades are priceless artifacts," Nilnacrawla said. "To offer one to another is the ultimate gesture of trust and respect among many martial Sprilnav cultures. It can also allow for a mind bridge, a soul pact, or a proposal for marriage between two great houses, martial families, or Elders of great wealth and power. To offer this to a human... to anyone... is an ultimate sign of backing, and one of trust.
It is a sacrosanct honor, the absolute agreement of speaking truth and respect. The words I can use in any human language are insufficient to describe the weight of this honor. This gesture is one of absolute truth. Family lines with hatred going back millions of years would never dare to violate this honor."
"Only one Elder in history did so, one who once led a group known as the Stannic Resistance. He does so no longer. Penny Balica, Champion of Humanity... if there is nothing else I can give you to prove that I do really back you, there is this."
"...Just how low are my chances in the Judgment for you to resort to this?" Penny asked.
"They are not zero, but your battle with be incredibly difficult even with this boon of mine. The future of the galaxy, I now realize, hinges on the outcome of this. If we do not have enough trust, they will sniff it out, and we will fail."
So she had no choice. But as Nilncrawla continued to explain in her mind, Kashaunta was getting the worse side of the deal. Which meant she was throwing her backing behind Penny for real, beyond all reproach and retraction. Kashaunta, the most powerful Elder in the galaxy.
"And if I reject this gift, or your reasons for it?"
"Circumstances would demand that I kill you and then myself using this blade as a way to cut apart the dishonor, before my remains are dumped into a black hole to be forgotten forever. I would not do this."
"A dark and archaic custom," Penny said. She would have said more, but she looked at Nilnacrawla's face. He was clearly deeply uncomfortable. Her five words had shaken him more than anything she'd ever said to him before.
"You do not understand," Nilnacrawla said. "This is not something to joke or lie about. With a Soul Blade Pact in play, all else must cease. Right now, there is you, and there is her. Accept or decline. The choice, your only choice, is yours."
"How will this look to the Elders in the court? To the Sprilnav, and the people who back me?"
She could see how it would be a boon and a curse.
"You, and I," Kashaunta said. "The whole of the universe between us right now is you and I. No others exist until this one act is done. There will be trust or there will be death. No in between. No middle ground. The nature of this bond will be a Pact of Blades."
Conceptual energy swirled between them. Penny's natural translation, as part of the hivemind, failed for the first time ever. Her communicator likewise did not translate the words Kashaunta spoke.
"Eis nama kaste Penny Balica, sun lanci Dorima Kashaunta. Ko'ri, lanci nupa bes na Dorima'Pecunyanova. Sp'rkial'nova. Sun. Homo Sapiens."
The air grew thick with tension. It was not just emotional, either. Psychic and conceptual energy gathered. The mindscape started to distort as more and more eyes began to view Kashaunta and Penny. But all of them were Sprilnav eyes. All of them were Progenitors. Nova's appeared brightest and largest, nearly six times the size of the next largest pair. They stared at her, sending psychic and conceptual energy down upon her in waves that forced her and Kashaunta to kneel to the ground.
"I apologize for my earlier words," Penny said. "I should not have denigrated this."
Penny stood for an hour, deeply contemplating the Pact. If it was as Nilnacrawla was describing to her, it was a promise that Kashaunta would not break. If she was offering it at all, especially to Penny, it meant she had a level of trust in Penny's capability far above what Penny had previously thought. Apparently, there were even higher agreements than this that were possible, with this Pact being the lowest level of bond and considered unbreakable with the enforcement of consequences coming from the Progenitors themselves.
She thought of her place in Justicar and the wider universe. Hours passed like water. And then, by the end of it, after nearly 19 hours, Penny finally had decided. She gave a short nod to Kashaunta, who had been kneeling to Nova all this time.
Kashaunta gestured at the sword. "Tol, nopa shikai."
Nilnacrawla fed her a few suggestions on what she would need to say.
"I come to this Pact seeking peace, justice, and hope," Penny said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery."
Nilnacrawla translated Kashaunta's next words to her.
"I come to this seeking trust, understanding, respect, and peace," Kashaunta said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery. I make this Pact before the gods, those who equal them, and those who surpass them. I bind them to an oath of silence regarding this event, until I directly instruct them otherwise, in a state of a sound mind, body, and soul. Here, we shall step into a future that needs both of us, casting aside that which is unimportant to focus on the ultimate goals we have. I offer my Blade to Penny Balica, of species Homo Sapiens. In this way, we forge a new future, and walk a new path. I accept the Pact."
"I accept the Pact."
Nova and a hundred Progenitors descended. Nova grew larger, and Kashaunta knelt to him. Penny remained standing. His sharp teeth glittered in the light. He pressed his claws to Penny's chest, and to Kashaunta's chest.
"The Pact of Blades is made before the Progenitors. We agree to your vow of silence. The penalty of breaking it will be dismemberment and disposal into a black hole. Penny Balica, Engineer Kashaunta. To break this Pact without mutual agreement is to call down our collective wrath upon yourselves. You both have agreed, and are of sound mind, body, and soul. The Pact is forged. By sword, by word, by action. I, Nova, Everlasting, Lord of the Progenitors, King of all Sp'rkial'nova, Heir to the Mantle of Power, Heir to Narvravarana, Progenitor, Elder, and Sprilnav, declare the deed done, etched in time, space, and Reality."
They winked out of existence one by one, leaving Penny and Kashaunta alone, to ponder the future. Penny's thoughts turned to the Judgment, and her confidence she could win it began to waver. How much worse was this Judgment going to be than before?
Penny stared at Kashaunta's Soul Blade. With careful fingers, she took it. Kashaunta sat up, satisfied.
"Now we can begin. I shall compile all the news about you I can find, and we shall see how to address the questions the High Judges will ask. Now that you trust me, I cannot betray you."
submitted by Storms_Wrath to HFY [link] [comments]
Ezeonwha was walking down a long hallway. The dry and plain painted walls and the pure white lighting of the lower levels of the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office helped to frame the dingy realities of those who could only afford these floors. Not even capable of having windows, these were for those who were the cheapest of the cheap or those who mingled with them. He'd passed several Guides on the way in, their claws echoing in the halls as a sign of authority in this lawless land.
Here, mediocrity was king, and he was a loyal servant. He drew his cloak closer about his neck, unwilling to reveal himself to those who weren't already equipped to see through it all. He was famous enough to be an abduction target if he let his guard down. This place was no exception, though Justicar tried to make them such. Too much security on the higher levels and too little on the lower levels. That was the way of things.
Another hallway, this one marked with bullet holes. Two contractors and a Guide were discussing the pricing of the fix project when he turned the corner. Their voices quieted to nothing, the stillness pressing down upon them with the same intensity as the false lighting. Ezeonwha clacked his jaws, giving them a low bow before continuing on his way. He saw the Guide's eyes light up with the sign of his implants getting a reading. It was another impromptu way of tracking via facial recognition, but it was an ancient practice.
Nothing was new about what the Guides did; only how many of them seemed to be on general patrol. Had Justicar hired more of them or actually done full conversions for all of them? Those arm cannons surely weren't cheap or ethical to insert into unwilling participants. And giving a victim a gun they couldn't be disarmed of was a very bad idea, even for Elders. And Justicar was better than most Elders when it came to abject stupidity. He'd likely only been dropped a few hundred times as a child versus the more likely Elder average of a few thousand.
Ezeonwha chuckled at his internal joke, heading deeper underground into the complex. He was going to a certain meeting, and it would be best not to be late. Even if the Guides tracked him, it wouldn't be negative. The group he had been approached by a few days ago wasn't a terror group. He'd looked them up. They dealt in 'freedom and liberation from all chains.'
The Eyes Of Liberty had focused upon Penny as their latest propaganda target and perhaps as a valuable ally in their fight against all tyranny. Though such a flowery message was likely steeped in idealism for the lower ranks, with more pragmatic and likely richer inner circle elites and leaders ensuring the pot would always simmer but never boil or grow cold. That was the way movements such as these managed to skirt the line between inaction and terrorism.
It was a dangerous thing to do. But these were dangerous times. If Penny left, he'd die. Someone with a grudge would kill him. It was a given, and he'd made peace with it now. He needed to get to work, to help others like him and those worse off, with just a small piece of the meager time he had left.
He was in the system as a friend of Penny, so little scrutiny would fall on him as he came and went. He had a new friend, one who was very interested in connecting to Penny.
The offer had come through his communicator, and he'd answered it given its interesting title. After a lengthy discussion about their goals for him and Penny, he'd agreed to at least have a meeting. He didn't tell them that he had a tracker from Phoebe, which would 'be impossible to miss' if things went badly. He knew the value he had, which was why one of the androids was also accompanying him under the guise of being a Sprilnav.
The android was 'walking' on all fours, its mechanical motion entirely silent. It was obscured by a wave of holograms and hard light holograms that would ensure that it wouldn't be considered suspicious beside him. His only guard was a capable one, and Phoebe had all the confidence of an AI who knew that the destruction of her android would only be an inconvenience for her.
Ezeonwha came to an unmarked door with a well-worn door frame. One knock. One pause. Two knocks. Another pause. Four knocks. He waited, and the door swung open. Eight Sprilnav greeted him warily but warmly, their eyes shifting to Phoebe.
The inside of the room was a dull red, coming from a pair of lights in the center of the ceiling that cast dark shadows near the edges. The whole room felt dark and dangerous, and the walls were lined with guns, computers, and several drones. Shelves and drawers were neatly stacked against the wall, as well as five couches and four double beds with ladder access to the top portions.
Bags of food rested atop a trash compactor unit, and the room service button on the inner side of the wall that Ezeonwha could see in the mirror was worn down to the raw metal. No paint jobs here, only grit and business. The room faintly smelled of body odor and assorted foods. Not entirely unpleasant, but also not what he'd expected from a group with sich a flamboyant name. Perhaps they worked in cell-based units. And that was another thing.
Minds were visible in the distance of the mindscape, but the people here were huddled together mentally. They appeared to be haphazard, but Ezeonwha recognized an old army-type defensive formation a mere step from each of their positions. They were more than they appeared. Though based on how their room looked, they probably weren't veterans, just decently trained.
As they walked through the doorway, a scanner activated. One of the Sprilnav, wearing a headset with numbers and letters swirling on the inner side of the visor, called out: "Phoebe android. Commando variant. Risk assessment: Certain Death. Ezeonwha. Carrying two pistols, one hidden in the pack on his left, and the other tucked inside a strap near the lower bottom of his chest."
That made them all pause, sizing each other up. Ezeonwha smiled nervously, failing terribly to break the building tension once again. His nerves started to get to him, but finally, Phoebe spoke. "Well, friends. I, for one, am happy to talk of the business of liberty. Tell us, what do you have in mind for my friend Ezeonwha?"
"It is not about him, AI. It is about the freedom all sentient beings deserve, and which we shall bring to the galaxy no matter if we are alive or dead."
"An honorable goal to strive toward," Phoebe said.
"Thank you. Your words are quite kind for your type."
"I didn't know I had one," Phoebe replied. "But thank you."
Ezeonwha turned his head toward the Sprilnav with all the fancy equipment.
"What is the best way for me and Penny to help in the fight?"
"The best way would be for you to start killing the gang leaders you come across. Barring that, have Penny ignore the graveyards, and continue freeing the slaves as she ought to. The dead have their freedom; the living need her work more."
"I agree with my companion," another of them said. "So far, Penny has done more for the fight for justice than any other on Justicar in generations, so it is a terrible thing to ask more, but we must ask. Even knowing the terrible toll it would have if she loses the Judgment, Sprilnav are at stake."
"People are at stake, you mean," Ezeonwha said. "There is no need to bring species into this."
"There would not be, but it is still a clear factor," another of them said, a female who looked more shifty in her gaze and demeanor. The Eyes of Liberty seemed like one of those groups with too much division.
"Do you disagree with each other often?" Ezeonwha asked innocently.
"Here and there," the tech guy said. "Not often enough to be a problem, and not when what matters is at stake."
"But that is the thing. How can you agree on when something that matters is a stake?"
"Is this a test?"
"Why would it be? Think of it as a genuine concern," Ezeonwha said. "To associate with your group, I have to be certain it will be resilient to change and risks escalating in the future. If the gangs cannot strike at Penny, they will pick the next best targets. Currently, that is me. If I associate with you in a way they can find out, and I assure you they will find out eventually, you all may be at risk as well. And your group's seemingly cell-based design also means large scale mobilization is difficult, ineffective, and risks severe coordination issues which cannot be quickly or safely remedied without changing core security features of it."
"You deduced all of that from context? You are smart, Ezeonwha. And have a good brain in your head. Everlasting knows we need one of those between all of us."
They all shared a laugh.
"I am not as young as I may look," Ezeonwha said. "Penny is not properly learned of the danger that faces us here. I am. The Underground will kill me when this is over. Do you want to die alongside me, all for your beliefs?"
Silence descended again. Ezeonwha kept the pressure on them when one of them stepped forward. "For freedom and liberty? Yes. I would die for that."
"As would I."
"And I."
They all declared the rest in orders that followed the patterns Ezeonwha was noticing. There were variances in their levels of belief and faith in their purpose. Each person had a different level of value difference, which meant that their lives would be worth more or less comparatively.
Cohesion was weaker, too. Not a full defector team, but likely pieces of several. Was that by design from a higher up leader, or was that just circumstance? Another thing to figure out later, that wasn't critical yet, but he would know before he truly went on any missions with them, if he did at all.
He suspected running messages to Penny would be the majority of their tasks. The quality of intelligence the Eyes of Liberty had offered was substantial. Perhaps enough for Penny to turn herself from a major annoyance to the gangs into an actual existential threat. With Justicar's swarming protection of the Fort Court and the 102nd Visitor Welcome Office, there was a limited amount of things that even the gangs could do. And if the rumors were correct, a Progenitor would be partaking in the trial.
"To be clear, if I join up with you, Phoebe would come too."
"Why would we let an AI join us?"
Phoebe smiled. "Without me, you'll die in this fight. You have trained for around 2000 days. You're acceptable combatants, as is Ezeonwha. But you are fighting in a city, and underneath it. You need to know how to keep a low profile. You need to know how to move through a crowd, get in and out. And you need to keep collateral damage to a zero, or the gangs will use you like they have others who had your purpose and were less careful to justify their 'protection' continuing. If you march in there and kill 50 slavers, if you kill a few slaves or a single bystander in the process, your credibility will be smeared. And frankly, with me on your team, you won't get blown up by an IED when you try clearing your first room in a fortress."
"IED?" One of them asked, while the rest digested her statement, going through various levels of offended looks.
"Your translator is too cheap. Improvised explosive device. Here, that can be old engines, reused oil, cracked plastic, frictional fuel bombs, circuit extruders, sodium splash grenades, as well as the more military style attacks they can pack, from small micro rockets all the way up to lower level fission or fusion bombs. Though if you're in a fight with those things involved, you're already dead."
"Why?"
"Because unless you're Elders, or holograms, a nuke will kill you whether you're right next to it or just inside the same shield. They concentrate the thermal pulse, so your bones would be ash before the pain hit your eyes."
"And what protection could you bring against that?"
"Telling you it's there before you start the attack. That is, if you listen to me. I value your lives over that of this android, but also I value Ezeonwha over all of you combined. I will not prevent him from doing this, but I will have you all know the risks involved."
"We are prepared, Phoebe. We have done much of the training you say, though we do not believe the gangs would plant explosive devices in their own fortresses. There is too much risk around that, with betrayals so common. However, the minefields we have scouted are easy to defeat with the right tactics. Perhaps you can give us a briefing on those, too?"
A challenge.
"I can, depending on how long you wish to do this for. But I have the stamina for either hours or weeks, depending on which you choose."
"What of your batteries?"
"They are of sufficient quality," Phoebe assured.
"I hope so."
Their tech guy nodded, more numbers flashing on his visor. Ezeonwha hoped he had a different way of display, like through an implant or something, for the missions in darker areas. The Underground was, by its name, not a place where much natural light was to be found. And the gangs controlled all the power systems in their territory. It was another part of the racket.
"Why aren't you guarding Penny?"
Phoebe's back straightened, a subconscious posture change to make her seem more confident. Ezeonwha caught the tactic for what it was, though without extensive knowledge of bipedal forms, it was less likely the surrounding Sprilnav knew it.
"Penny proved before a trillion eyes she's capable of fighting Elders, Progenitors, and a Dreadnaught Captain. Not to mention her immense power. I can shoot bullets, but she can literally snatch them out of the air and eat them. She has her own way of doing things, and it is a good way."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Penny landed in the rubble and headed for the Vaquah with a trail of survivors behind her. Many of them, she could recognize the marks of slavery on, with numbers or brands on their skin or just the trauma crouching in their eyes dulled by the pain of a long life in a work camp. Penny went through the wreckage to the shield surrounding the rubble and the defining line between the rest of the city and the destruction. Several news drones flew above her.
More were arriving from various directions. The soft footsteps grew into a constant drumming sound, like a beating heart of doom. Penny marched with them, heading to the spaceport. A large medical operation there quickly rerouted many of its various branches to the most injured freed slaves.
Penny pressed her considerable psychic energy on the entire group, accelerating their healing, slowing bleeding, and generally repairing their bodies and cells from the trauma they'd suffered. But the cloud over their heads did not brighten. The atmosphere remained tense and mournful. Many of them had lost friends, family, and more. She had no right to ask them to feel any different.
She had freed them, that was all. They were not her servants. She was not their ruler.
Several of them came up to her, offering thanks in the small ways they could. Kind words. Attempts at hugs. Even offers of devout prayer and worship, which Penny respectfully declined. She knew, as did most of them, that veneration for her deeds was inevitable. She didn't want to be seen encouraging it at all, since this was a public place where many eyes were upon her.
She knew that it would be misconstrued as a threat if she did. Religions were some of the most major threats entrenched powers could face if not properly co-opted by the state to suit their needs. And here, the 'state' was a military dictatorship billions of years old, ripened with corruption, money, and the immortality of Elders sporting technology beyond any other in the galaxy.
The sky was blue with shields overhead. The Vaquah hung in the distance, its thrusters gently burning to keep it aloft. A trail of shuttles linked the massive ship with several spaceports, including this one. Penny watched the freed Sprilnav get on it one by one, promising themselves to a new life aboard her ship. Technically, they were citizens of the Autonomous Peoples' Stars.
That protection, Penny knew, was why the Vaquah and its innocent inhabitants were still intact. Elders already had hired mercenaries to attack it. They'd failed, thanks to Rimiaha and Penny, but also the defenses of Kashaunta's Grand Fleet when it was in higher orbit. Kashaunta, despite her willingness to use Penny as she would, also had a certain intelligence and empathy. It was highly selective, and only money and power seemed to flip that switch.
But Penny needed the Elder, and Kashaunta only had use for her as an asset. She palmed the new communicator Kashaunta had issued her after the last one's destruction. Kashaunta's hologram appeared. It looked around, noticing the news drones in the air.
"Not here."
"Where?"
"You will know."
In the mindscape, a Sprilnav appeared on Penny's layer. They felt odd to her, almost like the minds of certain humans high up in the hivemind's network. Penny greeted the Sprilnav warmly.
"Hello."
"Queen and Elder Kashaunta requests your presence on her flagship."
"Very well."
In reality, Penny looked around at the crowd. She waited until it dwindled to nothing, and then spoke.
"Displace."
Conceptual energy twisted, and she stood on Kashaunta's flagship, though nearer to the edge than she'd expected. The Elder was waiting for her in an outfit that looked much like pajamas, though they were under a few armor pieces that appeared anything but decorative. Now that Penny noticed it, it was the same sort of armor that Yasihaut had worn to their last encounter, which interfered with conceptual energy. The Sprilnav were highly advanced. She wondered just how far their technology could go. She'd heard mentions of some ships having artificial gravity, and of nanites and programmable matter. But nothing certain.
"Hmm," Kashaunta said, giving Penny a once over. "You have come back. Shall I assume you are still my ally?"
"Nervous, are we?"
"Nervous is what you should be, Penny. The Judgment is coming. Ten days. Indrafabar and Justicar will both be on the court as High Judges. That is not good for us at all. So I figured a bit of prudence was in order. I have thought long and hard about this, and with the great battles of our time so fast approaching, I figure it is time to mend our relationship before the chasm grows any wider."
Kashaunta motioned to a special looking sword sheath on her back. Slowly, she drew a sword. A Soul Blade. Penny began to draw up her armor.
"Oh, I am not wishing for a fight, Penny. I know the damage you could do, even in my sanctum in the sky. Tell me, do you know how Soul Blades are forged?"
"No."
"Good. And tell me, do you know why they draw so much power to swing, even for Elders and beings as capable as us?"
"I have a few theories."
"I am sure you do," Kashaunta said. "But here is the thing. Soul Blades are typically weapons assigned to highly promising Elders, or even Progenitors. Filnatra, undisputed sword master that she is, can wield them as easily as breathing. If I were to swing this blade, there would be no drawback. Why?"
"Because you own that Soul Blade."
"Because this Soul Blade is mine. It is not just something I own. I own around seven or so more Soul Blades, with some weapons nearing their quality lying in my various vaults even now. You did not detect them, because I willed that not to be. I need you to understand this, Penny. You have power. You have might. But you are not invincible. My Soul Blade, if it struck you, would not cutely separate Nilnacrawla or Cardinality from you. Nor would your speeding space entity be able to block this blade with his flesh. If this cut you, it would release unending agony upon you before you exploded in a burst of burnt gore."
Penny sighed. "There is no need to threaten me. Allies do not threaten each other."
"But you do not see me as an ally. You see me as your means to get through the Judgment. You believe I see you as nothing more but a linear singularity maker, and perhaps a passing curiosity I'm backing on a whim. You neglect to imagine that there might be firmer reasons why I back you, and why more Elders are getting drawn into this conflict. You believe I am comfortable with showing you my more pragmatic and ruthless sides because I am comfortable with the fact that you cannot harm me. That you would not dare to do so, when you need my assistance so badly. That I might even be aiming to normalize my 'new' self with you."
"That is hardly my belief alone."
"Is it now."
Kashaunta grinned. There was no warmth in her gaze.
"Nilnacrawla," Kashaunta said. "Cardinality. Exile. Come out and show yourselves. You are being rude as guests."
Exile detached from Penny's head. He grew into the shifting array of fractals and shapes she was more familiar with. What had once grated on her eyes did so no longer. Kashaunta stared at the speeding space entity for ten seconds, then looked back up at Penny.
"He will not work on us. I will cover his form with holograms if he walks through my ship out of courtesy for my workers and crew, if he cannot."
"I am capable, Queen Kashaunta."
"You are quite knowledgable, aren't you?" Kashaunta mused, looking at him hungrily. "Oh, how I wonder what secrets you have in your head. How many of ours do you know?"
"I will not be taken as a hostage," Exile said.
"You will not because I decide not to," Kashaunta said. "Formally, our species are still at war. There is no treaty."
"The Sp'rkial'nova no longer exist."
"Yes, they do," Kashaunta said. "The name was discontinued for use regarding the lesser specimens we created. But I can assure you, Exile, if you wish to go by that name here, that we still do exist. I am a Sp'rkial'nova in the flesh. In the blood. In the mind. In the soul."
"Say what you will, Sprilnav. It changes nothing."
"On that I agree. Though our views on how things are may differ, and yours is wrong, your opinion is not valuable enough to matter."
She turned to Penny. She would have defended Exile, but he gave her a simple shake of his head area.
Nilnacrawla formed out of psychic energy in front of Penny. Cardi did the same beside her. Kashaunta tapped a claw on the ground. Tables and chairs appeared. A chef brought in food that looked passable and a few decent attempts at human cuisine.
"We do not have to eat, though I would expect that all of you at least sit at the table. We will discuss our grievances, and how to solve them before we proceed with the future. We shall first go to the matter of the Alliance. Penny, many in their number wish to establish contact with you. Do you agree to this? If so, I will add their communicator numbers to the translation program I have reserved for your personal use, in case your own device needs another sudden replacement."
"I agree."
"Good. A first step of diplomacy, I would say. Agreement. Now, Nilnacrawla, you look like you have something to say to me. What is it?"
"Free Meridia."
"Meridia was detonated by planet cracker during the 139th Sector 9 Border War. I am sorry more could not be done."
A cold draft of air rushed out of Nilnacrawla's nose. He glared at her. "You let them die."
"I did not. A Grand Fleet was defending that star system, and three came to lay siege. I am many things. A tactician, a queen, an Elder. But I am not a god. I cannot perform miracles. I evacuated 30 billion people from that world and its surrounding stations before the planet crackers hit it. 4 trillion more souls died in that blast. The best I can do is to offer an apology."
"That will never be enough for what you did. If you had never established your nation, they would still be alive."
"They would be slaves. Chattel slaves, not that cute little 'wage slavery' concept privileged people throw around. Perhaps I should remind you just how much darker that reality would have been for your female descendents, specifically. I am a brutal warlord, a dictator with an iron fist. But my claws do not squeeze nearly as tightly as I could. Metrics say that I could extract at least 370% more profit from my people if I simply enslaved them. But despite the shock this may bring to you all, I do have principles. The Autonomous Peoples' Stars are my people. My nation. My empire, if you think I'm imperialist. But I protect them as best I can."
Nilnacrawla's cold anger didn't lessen. Penny placed a calming hand on his front left thigh. He blinked. He let out a long, pained sigh. And he bowed his head to her. Not to Kashaunta, but to Penny.
"There is no need to be cruel."
"My language was accurate, Penny. He is a strong Elder. Everlasting knows he's stronger than most of these fools. Nilnacrawla was and is a hero of the Source war. I respect him enough not to mince words, or to give platitudes. Coddling is for babies. Nilnacrawla is far more mature."
Kashaunta turned to Cardi. "You have been remarkably silent in this, concept."
"I have."
"A wonderfully succinct statement. Perhaps you can shorten it further. But nevertheless, you and I will be working together with Penny much more in the near future. Rest assured, if you refuse to become more independent, you will be nothing more than a crutch for her to rely on before leaving her to fall when you are ripped away."
"When, Elder? I would like to think your protection is sufficient."
"I am sure the truth is quite the opposite, dear. I will now get to the point. Penny needs to move faster, and needs to break out of her shell. She needs to be pushed to do more. She has signed a binding treaty, which shows she is capable of more than barbarian aliens, as some Elders would call her. You, Cardinality, will help her be a high achiever. To do this, you need to learn more about your own history.
That is the theme of the year, after all. History. My history, Penny's history, Sprilnav history, and even Gaia's history, it would seem."
"Gaia? What do they have to do with all of this?" Penny asked.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that."
"Excuse me? You don't get to decide that, Kashaunta. You will tell me. I refuse to be coddled, like you say. I demand the respect I am owed."
"You forget yourself, Penny."
"I remember myself, actually. I am all I need to be. I can become all I need if I must. You can hold your backing against me all you want, but you won't withdraw it. As you said, more binds you and I than mere money and ideology."
"And if you're wrong?"
"Then I've doomed my species and my nation to war, and this planet to the full power of my wrath."
"Wrath, Penny. Wrath. The Sprilnav have many words for anger, rage, hatred. There is the desire for vengeance, in varying degrees. There is that for justice, which does differ. And that for belonging. I know you believe you are standing up to me as a way to assert your own authority in this relationship of ours. You believe I see you as inferior, and will pull back my help when it is profitable for me. I will not offer you the consequences of what your words could mean.
You already know them, and that argument is as stale as your view on us Elders. I will say this once, Penny. You are the Champion of Humanity. The apex predator of your planet, the only one mostly in charge of an Alliance that does more than merely dream of overthrowing us. It is easy for me to say you are not a threat, though I do not ignore the threat you and your nation are trying to become. Gaia will be a part of your movement, but even my information is not entirely complete. I will not mislead you by claiming I know Gaia's link to this, just that there likely is one.
And I am not unreasonably petty. I am willing to put all our animosity behind us and start anew. Even if you are not willing to do the same, I am willing to make this work for us. You have more people to care for than just the Alliance, now. Do not forget them."
"A lot of words that mean nothing."
"Because you heard, but did not listen. Perhaps it will be easier this way, Penny. I want you to win."
"Explain."
"You wish to overthrow the current Sprilnav led order of the galaxy. Your path to that will likely be through mass slave revolt. A viable strategy that I could spread far beyond just this planet. And I actually agree with you. This Judgment, this utter insanity around the Alliance and your species has shown me the truth. The Elders as a class and a species cannot be trusted to rule any longer. We need new leaders. Better leaders."
"And yourself?"
"As the hypocrite that I am, and the power-hungry ruler of the Sprilnav, I would obviously exclude myself from that number. Let's be realistic. The Sprilnav will never accept a non-Elder ruler. If you wish to see what our insurgencies would be like, imagine the 2090s Struggles of Asia. Expand that to billions of planets, large and small. Countless ships and space stations. We have more collective ships than you have people. And as your military planners know, there is no such thing as an unarmed ship. Without us, without me, your plans are stillborn. Your galactic Alliance or whatever you make will fall to pieces without proper counseling. In essence, my offer to you, and you alone, is this. The galaxy, for the Sprilnav."
"Who backs your offer, with the power to give it?"
Progenitors Lecalicus and Nova appeared in the room.
"I back Kashaunta," Lecalicus wheezed.
"I observe her offer, and wish it a proper outcome," Nova said.
"Thank you, esteemed Progenitors," Kashaunta said, standing just to bow to them. Penny stared at Nova, balling her fists.
"There will be time for battle later," he said. "But not now. Hear out her request. She does not make it lightly."
The Progenitors disappeared.
"If I accept your offer, it will be on a written record."
"No. It will not be, because if that record is written, my nation will be facing war on all sides. A better idea would be for us to keep this under wraps."
"Perfect for betrayal," Nilnacrawla muttered.
"It would be, yes. But consider the second part of this situation, Nilncrawla. If word of this galactic offer, not just the Pact, were to get out, which is why two Progenitors who know the price of interference were called here, it would mean the deaths of Penny and all her kind. Or do you forget what rapidly approaches us?"
Nilnacrawla frowned. "I did. I apologize, Penny."
Kashaunta spoke up again.
"Penny. You believe I will betray you. So I make an offer of collateral. An offer so unbelievably sacred for us Elders that many would recoil at the mere thought of it. Now that you have signed a backed treaty, you are fully qualified."
Kashaunta grabbed her Soul Blade and presented it to Penny.
"What does this mean?"
"Nilnacrawla, tell her," Kashaunta said. "She will trust your mouth more than mine."
"Bonded Soul Blades are priceless artifacts," Nilnacrawla said. "To offer one to another is the ultimate gesture of trust and respect among many martial Sprilnav cultures. It can also allow for a mind bridge, a soul pact, or a proposal for marriage between two great houses, martial families, or Elders of great wealth and power. To offer this to a human... to anyone... is an ultimate sign of backing, and one of trust.
It is a sacrosanct honor, the absolute agreement of speaking truth and respect. The words I can use in any human language are insufficient to describe the weight of this honor. This gesture is one of absolute truth. Family lines with hatred going back millions of years would never dare to violate this honor."
"Only one Elder in history did so, one who once led a group known as the Stannic Resistance. He does so no longer. Penny Balica, Champion of Humanity... if there is nothing else I can give you to prove that I do really back you, there is this."
"...Just how low are my chances in the Judgment for you to resort to this?" Penny asked.
"They are not zero, but your battle with be incredibly difficult even with this boon of mine. The future of the galaxy, I now realize, hinges on the outcome of this. If we do not have enough trust, they will sniff it out, and we will fail."
So she had no choice. But as Nilncrawla continued to explain in her mind, Kashaunta was getting the worse side of the deal. Which meant she was throwing her backing behind Penny for real, beyond all reproach and retraction. Kashaunta, the most powerful Elder in the galaxy.
"And if I reject this gift, or your reasons for it?"
"Circumstances would demand that I kill you and then myself using this blade as a way to cut apart the dishonor, before my remains are dumped into a black hole to be forgotten forever. I would not do this."
"A dark and archaic custom," Penny said. She would have said more, but she looked at Nilnacrawla's face. He was clearly deeply uncomfortable. Her five words had shaken him more than anything she'd ever said to him before.
"You do not understand," Nilnacrawla said. "This is not something to joke or lie about. With a Soul Blade Pact in play, all else must cease. Right now, there is you, and there is her. Accept or decline. The choice, your only choice, is yours."
"How will this look to the Elders in the court? To the Sprilnav, and the people who back me?"
She could see how it would be a boon and a curse.
"You, and I," Kashaunta said. "The whole of the universe between us right now is you and I. No others exist until this one act is done. There will be trust or there will be death. No in between. No middle ground. The nature of this bond will be a Pact of Blades."
Conceptual energy swirled between them. Penny's natural translation, as part of the hivemind, failed for the first time ever. Her communicator likewise did not translate the words Kashaunta spoke.
"Eis nama kaste Penny Balica, sun lanci Dorima Kashaunta. Ko'ri, lanci nupa bes na Dorima'Pecunyanova. Sp'rkial'nova. Sun. Homo Sapiens."
The air grew thick with tension. It was not just emotional, either. Psychic and conceptual energy gathered. The mindscape started to distort as more and more eyes began to view Kashaunta and Penny. But all of them were Sprilnav eyes. All of them were Progenitors. Nova's appeared brightest and largest, nearly six times the size of the next largest pair. They stared at her, sending psychic and conceptual energy down upon her in waves that forced her and Kashaunta to kneel to the ground.
"I apologize for my earlier words," Penny said. "I should not have denigrated this."
Penny stood for an hour, deeply contemplating the Pact. If it was as Nilnacrawla was describing to her, it was a promise that Kashaunta would not break. If she was offering it at all, especially to Penny, it meant she had a level of trust in Penny's capability far above what Penny had previously thought. Apparently, there were even higher agreements than this that were possible, with this Pact being the lowest level of bond and considered unbreakable with the enforcement of consequences coming from the Progenitors themselves.
She thought of her place in Justicar and the wider universe. Hours passed like water. And then, by the end of it, after nearly 19 hours, Penny finally had decided. She gave a short nod to Kashaunta, who had been kneeling to Nova all this time.
Kashaunta gestured at the sword. "Tol, nopa shikai."
Nilnacrawla fed her a few suggestions on what she would need to say.
"I come to this Pact seeking peace, justice, and hope," Penny said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery."
Nilnacrawla translated Kashaunta's next words to her.
"I come to this seeking trust, understanding, respect, and peace," Kashaunta said. "And a promise not to betray one another, by lies or by treachery. I make this Pact before the gods, those who equal them, and those who surpass them. I bind them to an oath of silence regarding this event, until I directly instruct them otherwise, in a state of a sound mind, body, and soul. Here, we shall step into a future that needs both of us, casting aside that which is unimportant to focus on the ultimate goals we have. I offer my Blade to Penny Balica, of species Homo Sapiens. In this way, we forge a new future, and walk a new path. I accept the Pact."
"I accept the Pact."
Nova and a hundred Progenitors descended. Nova grew larger, and Kashaunta knelt to him. Penny remained standing. His sharp teeth glittered in the light. He pressed his claws to Penny's chest, and to Kashaunta's chest.
"The Pact of Blades is made before the Progenitors. We agree to your vow of silence. The penalty of breaking it will be dismemberment and disposal into a black hole. Penny Balica, Engineer Kashaunta. To break this Pact without mutual agreement is to call down our collective wrath upon yourselves. You both have agreed, and are of sound mind, body, and soul. The Pact is forged. By sword, by word, by action. I, Nova, Everlasting, Lord of the Progenitors, King of all Sp'rkial'nova, Heir to the Mantle of Power, Heir to Narvravarana, Progenitor, Elder, and Sprilnav, declare the deed done, etched in time, space, and Reality."
They winked out of existence one by one, leaving Penny and Kashaunta alone, to ponder the future. Penny's thoughts turned to the Judgment, and her confidence she could win it began to waver. How much worse was this Judgment going to be than before?
Penny stared at Kashaunta's Soul Blade. With careful fingers, she took it. Kashaunta sat up, satisfied.
"Now we can begin. I shall compile all the news about you I can find, and we shall see how to address the questions the High Judges will ask. Now that you trust me, I cannot betray you."
2024.05.15 04:15 Gldfsh_vinillaCronch Chapter sixteen
~Neptori~
A party was indeed hosted, set up to surround the burning mass of grass that the second creature had been hidden inside, the two severed heads spiked on massive rose thorns high above the half acre of angry flame were eyeless and toothless. Trophies for the queen’s pet Faeries and Fairies.
Tori was half certain she had seen a demon amongst the deadly, fake-friendly, party goers. His eyes didn’t just reflect the fire, they were made from fire. Sparks flew and skittered over his high cheekbones as they made eye contact in passing. A chill went down her spine, a warning and a threat.
She followed quickly after the queen, her gown had been replaced with a shorter gown resembling a white iris flower, the shoes of course matching to look like the stem. High, high heels that didn’t even touch the ground. They hovered over the ground as she fluttered her wings to stay just above her people. A subtle band of wild roses sat on her brow, Neptori only wondered about the thorns and how a flower could be so pale and yet so brightly yellow. Fluffy and tiny, the roses faintly resembled the clouds as the sun fell to make way for darkness in night.
Someone, at some point, had made sunflowers grow twice as tall as they were. They lined the main scenes of the party, their strong, velvety leaves bore golden, burning lanterns. An ashy pink smoke filtered flower shaped holes in the circular… those weren’t lanterns- fairies were nocturnal! Those were burning herbs, were they to keep predators away from the party or to heighten the pixie magic warping the sizes of everything. She took a light whiff taking in the earthy smell, the note of citrine and then the smell of honey fresh from a beehive… she suddenly felt very light. Shaking her head to shake the feeling, she finally caught up to the queen's side. Wings would have been entirely advantageous in this situation, Tori would have to do with waiting till the queen had settled on her throne at hearing distance.
Around and around the party they went, Tori being shown off like a prized pony. The queen didn’t seem to be too hated by her people, it was strange that she had said so earlier. Neptori pinched her brow trying to keep her thoughts from derailing. No, play by her rules and she will have to let Tori go. That’s what she would have to do. So around and around she went some more. Fairies drenched her in new garments. As they were the fashion capital of the realm, they were exceedingly horrified by a poor woman’s rags. Neptori accepted their gifts, too afraid to offend to deny the strange things they put on her. Her coat had been torn from her at some point, her trousers had been replaced with a purple petticoat and a pink pearl corset. Her boots were gone and her feet cried out in pain as she felt the dirt and clovers underfoot. As her toes dug into the soft heaven that was nature. A giggle escaped her, a scraggly cry really. It hurt but it was amazing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had taken her boots off. Her smell was ripe and rank but she didn’t care, her toes weren’t cramped up!
she turned to see if the queen could see- but there was nobody. Just an empty field and those burning herbs finally burning up. The smoke was so thin it fell in scraggly whisps. The morning air seemed too crisp and clean and untamed. She burst into a sprint down the path of trampled grasses. Strange flowers and shrubs had grown underfoot but they were walked all over by what must’ve been an enormous crowd. Then a light, brighter than the awakening blue overhead, the sun. The first rays yawned over the land, sending a golden and blue contrast into the world. She had never felt so at peace. So at one with her surroundings. Her face was numb and cold with it, or maybe the reverse but she was only paying attention to the awakening surrounding her.
The bees and birds and the fairies… everyone began to stir awake as slowly as if time was blinking awake with them. She just stared with watering eyes, taking in the magic that thickened in the air. The scent of apple blossoms washing over her as the land was engulfed in golden hues of every color. Then it was green. The sky was alive with fluffy white clouds, scattered across that simple barrier of blue. It was all so beautiful and it thrummed around her, in her veins it pulsed.
Everything just felt so right, then a shadow fell around her. She turned her surely very glassy eyes to find the queen standing a wreck before her. “There you are pet.” She said with a crooked grin. Her eyes were bright red and brought out the earthy green hues within her irises. Her iris party dress was limp and her band of fluffy yellow roses was gone.
“Wha- “What happened?” Neptori cried out as her knees came crashing down to the dirt and rocks and ashes and… what had happened? “Your very first fairy party it seems.” She waved a hand and the perfect scene made way for the glowing petal walls of the fairy palace.
submitted by Gldfsh_vinillaCronch to TheSongofKithandKin [link] [comments]
A party was indeed hosted, set up to surround the burning mass of grass that the second creature had been hidden inside, the two severed heads spiked on massive rose thorns high above the half acre of angry flame were eyeless and toothless. Trophies for the queen’s pet Faeries and Fairies.
Tori was half certain she had seen a demon amongst the deadly, fake-friendly, party goers. His eyes didn’t just reflect the fire, they were made from fire. Sparks flew and skittered over his high cheekbones as they made eye contact in passing. A chill went down her spine, a warning and a threat.
She followed quickly after the queen, her gown had been replaced with a shorter gown resembling a white iris flower, the shoes of course matching to look like the stem. High, high heels that didn’t even touch the ground. They hovered over the ground as she fluttered her wings to stay just above her people. A subtle band of wild roses sat on her brow, Neptori only wondered about the thorns and how a flower could be so pale and yet so brightly yellow. Fluffy and tiny, the roses faintly resembled the clouds as the sun fell to make way for darkness in night.
Someone, at some point, had made sunflowers grow twice as tall as they were. They lined the main scenes of the party, their strong, velvety leaves bore golden, burning lanterns. An ashy pink smoke filtered flower shaped holes in the circular… those weren’t lanterns- fairies were nocturnal! Those were burning herbs, were they to keep predators away from the party or to heighten the pixie magic warping the sizes of everything. She took a light whiff taking in the earthy smell, the note of citrine and then the smell of honey fresh from a beehive… she suddenly felt very light. Shaking her head to shake the feeling, she finally caught up to the queen's side. Wings would have been entirely advantageous in this situation, Tori would have to do with waiting till the queen had settled on her throne at hearing distance.
Around and around the party they went, Tori being shown off like a prized pony. The queen didn’t seem to be too hated by her people, it was strange that she had said so earlier. Neptori pinched her brow trying to keep her thoughts from derailing. No, play by her rules and she will have to let Tori go. That’s what she would have to do. So around and around she went some more. Fairies drenched her in new garments. As they were the fashion capital of the realm, they were exceedingly horrified by a poor woman’s rags. Neptori accepted their gifts, too afraid to offend to deny the strange things they put on her. Her coat had been torn from her at some point, her trousers had been replaced with a purple petticoat and a pink pearl corset. Her boots were gone and her feet cried out in pain as she felt the dirt and clovers underfoot. As her toes dug into the soft heaven that was nature. A giggle escaped her, a scraggly cry really. It hurt but it was amazing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had taken her boots off. Her smell was ripe and rank but she didn’t care, her toes weren’t cramped up!
she turned to see if the queen could see- but there was nobody. Just an empty field and those burning herbs finally burning up. The smoke was so thin it fell in scraggly whisps. The morning air seemed too crisp and clean and untamed. She burst into a sprint down the path of trampled grasses. Strange flowers and shrubs had grown underfoot but they were walked all over by what must’ve been an enormous crowd. Then a light, brighter than the awakening blue overhead, the sun. The first rays yawned over the land, sending a golden and blue contrast into the world. She had never felt so at peace. So at one with her surroundings. Her face was numb and cold with it, or maybe the reverse but she was only paying attention to the awakening surrounding her.
The bees and birds and the fairies… everyone began to stir awake as slowly as if time was blinking awake with them. She just stared with watering eyes, taking in the magic that thickened in the air. The scent of apple blossoms washing over her as the land was engulfed in golden hues of every color. Then it was green. The sky was alive with fluffy white clouds, scattered across that simple barrier of blue. It was all so beautiful and it thrummed around her, in her veins it pulsed.
Everything just felt so right, then a shadow fell around her. She turned her surely very glassy eyes to find the queen standing a wreck before her. “There you are pet.” She said with a crooked grin. Her eyes were bright red and brought out the earthy green hues within her irises. Her iris party dress was limp and her band of fluffy yellow roses was gone.
“Wha- “What happened?” Neptori cried out as her knees came crashing down to the dirt and rocks and ashes and… what had happened? “Your very first fairy party it seems.” She waved a hand and the perfect scene made way for the glowing petal walls of the fairy palace.
2024.05.15 04:02 CasualRSL I just spent 6 days in the hospital for mystery parasthesia and pain. Is it actually just guillaine-barre syndrome?
Hello! I am a 28 year old male. I just spent 6 days admitted to the hospital with concerns about a cardiac event because I was having facial parasthesia (tingling, numbness), the same sensation in my left arm and to a less frequent extent, my right arm. I also experience lower jaw and tooth pain, but I can’t tell if this is a symptom or if it is secondary to the swollen tonsils and adenoids.
For context, my wife and son recently got sick. My wife was very sick. Enough so that she sometimes cried about how much her throat hurt and even got a couple of chest x-rays for pneumonia. She was tested for every common illness because she had an insanely painful sore throat, a VERY bad cough, a whisper quiet lost voice and her tonsils were huge. The only result that showed was that she had a past EBV infection at some point.
I also got sick, of course. However, things went differently for me. I got sick and developed a bad sorrow throat and that was about it. This continues to this day, which is 12 days later. It’s still quite bad. My tonsils are also huge, but not as big as they were. I have tonsil secretions but I had more before.
A few days into my sore throat, my left face began to tingle. It was… weird. No pain, nothing else really. Just tingle. Later on in the day, my lip went numb. I went to the ER thinking that I was stroking out or something but the CT was fine and they sent me home.
The very next day, my left arm started to tingle and hurt and my arm starting from under my armpit medially(if supinated) running down my upper arm but not below my elbow started to ache. My shoulder had sensations of cold as well. The tinglng sensation continues and it runs down to my hand where I feel pain that that travels around but is mainly in my palm, thumb and fourth/fifth finger. This also occurs in my right arm. In fact, it’s happening right now. Both sides of my face are tingling as well.
To be clear, Yale’s cardiology team did a very extensive workup including s PET/CT nuclear stress test, echocardiogram, several EKG’s, maybe a dozen troponins a chest X-ray. No cardiac pathology was revealed. The only thing that was somewhat weird is that my symptoms were alleviated several times by nitroglycerin, but this may very well be psychosomatic due to my extreme anxiety over it being cardiac in nature and causing panjc attacks that the nitroglycerin calmed by lowering my BP and distracting me with low BP symptoms, honestly. I am a very anxious individual and I was very laser focused on it being cardiac pain because of the location. So much so that I did not even think of the possibility of my illness being related during my hospitalization. They did test me for strep and COVID and it was negative but given the fact that my wife was negative for EBV, they did not think it necessary.
I am wondering if perhaps this mystery infection could have triggered GBS? I do see a neurologist but my closest available appointment is three months from now.
So, what do you fine people think? Do these symptoms sound like potential GBS? If so, would gabapentin help? How can I go about making this easier for myself? I do have an RX for that. Thanks for reading.
submitted by CasualRSL to askneurology [link] [comments]
For context, my wife and son recently got sick. My wife was very sick. Enough so that she sometimes cried about how much her throat hurt and even got a couple of chest x-rays for pneumonia. She was tested for every common illness because she had an insanely painful sore throat, a VERY bad cough, a whisper quiet lost voice and her tonsils were huge. The only result that showed was that she had a past EBV infection at some point.
I also got sick, of course. However, things went differently for me. I got sick and developed a bad sorrow throat and that was about it. This continues to this day, which is 12 days later. It’s still quite bad. My tonsils are also huge, but not as big as they were. I have tonsil secretions but I had more before.
A few days into my sore throat, my left face began to tingle. It was… weird. No pain, nothing else really. Just tingle. Later on in the day, my lip went numb. I went to the ER thinking that I was stroking out or something but the CT was fine and they sent me home.
The very next day, my left arm started to tingle and hurt and my arm starting from under my armpit medially(if supinated) running down my upper arm but not below my elbow started to ache. My shoulder had sensations of cold as well. The tinglng sensation continues and it runs down to my hand where I feel pain that that travels around but is mainly in my palm, thumb and fourth/fifth finger. This also occurs in my right arm. In fact, it’s happening right now. Both sides of my face are tingling as well.
To be clear, Yale’s cardiology team did a very extensive workup including s PET/CT nuclear stress test, echocardiogram, several EKG’s, maybe a dozen troponins a chest X-ray. No cardiac pathology was revealed. The only thing that was somewhat weird is that my symptoms were alleviated several times by nitroglycerin, but this may very well be psychosomatic due to my extreme anxiety over it being cardiac in nature and causing panjc attacks that the nitroglycerin calmed by lowering my BP and distracting me with low BP symptoms, honestly. I am a very anxious individual and I was very laser focused on it being cardiac pain because of the location. So much so that I did not even think of the possibility of my illness being related during my hospitalization. They did test me for strep and COVID and it was negative but given the fact that my wife was negative for EBV, they did not think it necessary.
I am wondering if perhaps this mystery infection could have triggered GBS? I do see a neurologist but my closest available appointment is three months from now.
So, what do you fine people think? Do these symptoms sound like potential GBS? If so, would gabapentin help? How can I go about making this easier for myself? I do have an RX for that. Thanks for reading.
2024.05.15 03:01 Mysterious_Cat_1706 Gribble - Chapter 20
New Chapter on every MWF (Monday, Wednesday,Friday)
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Chapter 20: The Storm's Fury
Gribble huddled in the depths of the cave, his heart pounding wildly as the fierce thunderstorm raged outside. The heavy rain and ear-splitting thunder created a scary symphony, unlike anything Gribble had ever heard before. Each booming thunderclap made the cave walls shake, and small rocks fell from the ceiling. Gribble's eyes darted around the small space, looking for any sign of safety, but the storm's anger seemed to fill every nook and cranny. Fear gripped his heart as he worried that the whole hillside might cave in, trapping him alive in the cave. The damp air was thick with the smell of wet dirt and the sharp tang of fear, and Gribble's skin tingled with goosebumps as the temperature dropped. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stay warm and calm his frazzled nerves, but the storm's power only seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.
The shadowy figure stood tall at the mouth of the cave, its form unmoving despite the heavy rain that pounded the outside. Gribble squinted his eyes, trying to figure out what the creature was through the curtain of darkness and the never-ending rain, but the details stayed hidden. The figure's posture was steady and scary, its broad shoulders and muscular build hinting at a tough enemy. Gribble's heart raced as he watched the figure, his mind imagining all sorts of terrifying possibilities. The creature's stillness was creepy, as if it was waiting for just the right moment to attack. A wave of dread washed over Gribble, and he instinctively pressed himself further into the cave's shadows, desperate to avoid being seen. The figure's presence was a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the cave's walls, and Gribble's survival instincts kicked into high gear as he thought about his next move.
A blinding flash of lightning tore through the night sky, filling the cave with an eerie, otherworldly light. For a split second, the creature's identity was revealed, and Gribble's eyes widened in horror as he took in the sight before him. Standing at the cave's entrance was a dark blue Thundercat, its muscular body rippling with power beneath its sleek, electric blue fur. The Thundercat's eyes gleamed with a predatory intensity, reflecting the lightning's flash like two pools of melted gold. Gribble's gaze was drawn to the creature's long, razor-sharp sabertooth fangs, which glinted menacingly in the momentary light. The sight of the Thundercat sent a wave of primal fear rushing through Gribble's veins, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. The stories he had heard of these legendary beasts paled in comparison to the reality that stood before him, and Gribble knew that he was facing a creature of unimaginable strength and ferocity.
Gribble's panic reached a fever pitch, his breath coming in short, labored gasps as he stared at the Thundercat. The tales of these feared creatures flooded his mind – whispers of the electric sparks that danced through their fur, of their immense strength that was said to rival even the most fearsome Owlbear. Gribble's heart pounded against his ribcage, and he could feel the cold sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill in the air. He knew that he was facing a daunting adversary, one that could easily overpower him in a head-on confrontation. The odds of survival seemed to dwindle with each passing second, and Gribble's mind raced as he desperately tried to come up with a plan. The Thundercat's presence loomed over him like a suffocating shadow, and Gribble could feel the weight of its gaze boring into him, even from across the cave. He understood that he must act quickly and decisively if he hoped to escape this encounter with his life.
Reacting on instinct, Gribble called upon his innate power to conjure bean-sized fireballs. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a barrage of the tiny, flaming projectiles hurtling towards the cave entrance, where they burst into brilliant flashes of light upon impact. The fiery assault illuminated the cave, casting dancing shadows on the walls and bathing the Thundercat in an orange glow. The heat from the flames was intense, and Gribble could feel the scorching air brushing against his skin. The fireballs sizzled and crackled as they hit the stone, sending sparks flying in all directions. For a moment, the cave was filled with a dazzling display of light and sound, a stark contrast to the dark, scary storm that raged outside. Gribble's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and excitement as he watched the fireballs explode, hoping that the sudden attack would be enough to distract the Thundercat and give him a chance to escape.
Gribble's mind raced as he sent the fireballs towards the Thundercat, desperately hoping that the sudden attack would give him the distraction he needed to make his escape. He focused his thoughts, tapping into his teleportation powers and trying to picture a safe place outside the cave. However, the tiredness and the fear that gripped his heart made it hard to concentrate. Gribble's brow furrowed as he tried to gather the needed energy, but his body felt heavy and sluggish, as if he was moving through water. The image of the safe haven he sought flickered in his mind's eye, tantalizingly close but just out of reach. Gribble gritted his teeth, pushing himself to the limits of his mental and physical strength as he struggled to keep his focus. The cave seemed to spin around him, and he could feel the cold tendrils of despair creeping into his heart as he realized that his teleportation powers might fail him in this critical moment.
Gribble's heart sank as he watched the Thundercat emerge unharmed from the fiery assault. The creature's electric blue fur crackled with energy, the sparks dancing across its body like tiny bolts of lightning. The Thundercat's eyes blazed with an otherworldly intensity, and it let out a deafening roar that shook the very foundations of the cave. The sound was unlike anything Gribble had ever heard before – a primal, guttural cry that seemed to echo through his very bones. The cave walls trembled, and small rocks and debris rained down from the ceiling, adding to the chaos of the moment. Gribble realized with a sinking feeling that the Thundercat was not only unharmed but enraged by his attack. The creature's muscles rippled beneath its fur as it prepared to charge, and Gribble knew that a battle was now unavoidable. He steeled himself, summoning every ounce of courage and determination he possessed, knowing that he must fight with all his might if he hoped to survive this encounter.
The Thundercat sprang into action, its powerful legs propelling it towards Gribble with a speed that defied belief. The creature moved with a fluid grace, its body a blur of electric blue as it closed the distance between them in mere seconds. Gribble barely had time to react before the Thundercat was upon him, its razor-sharp claws slashing through the air with deadly precision. He threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the initial attack, but the Thundercat's agility was unmatched. The creature pivoted mid-leap, its tail lashing out like a whip and its claws finding purchase on the cave wall as it redirected its momentum. Gribble's heart raced as he realized the true extent of the Thundercat's physical prowess – its reflexes were lightning-fast, and its strength was beyond anything he had ever encountered. The creature's eyes locked onto Gribble, and he could see the predatory gleam within them, the raw hunger for the hunt. Gribble knew that he must keep moving, keep dodging, if he hoped to stay alive long enough to find a way to counter the Thundercat's relentless assault.
Despite the fatigue that weighed heavily upon him, Gribble mustered the last reserves of his energy and called upon his earth vine powers. He focused his mind, reaching out to the cave floor and seeking the dormant life that lay beneath the stone. With a surge of effort, Gribble summoned a single, thick green tendril from the ground, watching as it burst forth and snaked its way towards the Thundercat. The vine wrapped itself around one of the creature's muscular legs, momentarily halting its advance and giving Gribble a fleeting moment of hope. However, the Thundercat's strength was too great, and it easily ripped through the vine with a snarl of annoyance. The severed tendril fell to the cave floor, writhing like a dying snake before going still. Gribble's heart sank as he realized that his earth vine powers, once a reliable ally in battle, were no match for the Thundercat's raw power. The creature's gaze turned back to Gribble, its eyes narrowing with a mixture of anger and predatory anticipation, and he knew that he must find another way to defend himself before it was too late.
Gribble's mind raced as he desperately searched for a way to gain the upper hand against the relentless Thundercat. In a last-ditch effort, he summoned another volley of bean-sized fireballs, pouring every ounce of his remaining energy into the attack. The tiny flames erupted from his fingertips in rapid succession, streaking through the air like miniature comets and striking the Thundercat's fur with sizzling precision. The creature hissed in pain as the fireballs singed its coat, but its anger only seemed to grow with each passing second. Gribble's exhaustion began to take its toll, his movements becoming sluggish and uncoordinated as he struggled to maintain the barrage. His vision blurred, and his limbs felt heavy, as if he was moving through molasses. The Thundercat pressed its advantage, its claws and fangs flashing in the dim light of the cave as it lunged towards Gribble with renewed ferocity. He knew that he could not keep up this pace for much longer, and a sense of despair began to creep into his heart as he realized that his efforts might not be enough to save him from the Thundercat's wrath.
The Thundercat seized the opportunity presented by Gribble's faltering defense, delivering a devastating blow that sent the young adventurer flying across the cave. Gribble felt the air rush from his lungs as he slammed into the unyielding rock wall, his body crumpling to the ground in a heap of pain and exhaustion. Stars danced before his eyes, and he gasped for breath, each inhalation sending shockwaves of agony through his battered frame. Gribble's mind reeled as he tried to assess the extent of his injuries, but the pain was too great, too all-consuming. He could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, and he knew that he was badly hurt. The Thundercat's shadow fell over him, and Gribble looked up to see the creature looming above, its eyes glinting with a mixture of triumph and bloodlust. He tried to move, to crawl away, but his body refused to cooperate, and he collapsed back to the ground, his strength utterly spent. Gribble's heart pounded with the realization that he might not survive this encounter, and a cold sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.
Gribble lay broken and helpless on the cave floor, his vision swimming as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. The Thundercat stood over him, its electric blue fur crackling with energy as it prepared to deliver the final, fatal blow. Gribble's mind raced, desperately searching for a way out, for some last-minute miracle that could save him from this dire fate. He tried to summon his powers, to call upon the earth or conjure another fireball, but his body was too weak, too battered to respond. The Thundercat's eyes bore into him, and Gribble could see the raw, primal hunger that burned within them – the desire to end his life and claim victory. His heart hammered in his chest, and he could feel the cold tendrils of fear wrapping around his soul as he stared death in the face.
Would he find a way to overcome the Thundercat, or would his journey come to a tragic end in the depths of the cave? The fate of the young goblin hung in the balance, and only time would tell if he had the strength and cunning to emerge victorious.
submitted by Mysterious_Cat_1706 to HFY [link] [comments]
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Chapter 20: The Storm's Fury
Gribble huddled in the depths of the cave, his heart pounding wildly as the fierce thunderstorm raged outside. The heavy rain and ear-splitting thunder created a scary symphony, unlike anything Gribble had ever heard before. Each booming thunderclap made the cave walls shake, and small rocks fell from the ceiling. Gribble's eyes darted around the small space, looking for any sign of safety, but the storm's anger seemed to fill every nook and cranny. Fear gripped his heart as he worried that the whole hillside might cave in, trapping him alive in the cave. The damp air was thick with the smell of wet dirt and the sharp tang of fear, and Gribble's skin tingled with goosebumps as the temperature dropped. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stay warm and calm his frazzled nerves, but the storm's power only seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.
The shadowy figure stood tall at the mouth of the cave, its form unmoving despite the heavy rain that pounded the outside. Gribble squinted his eyes, trying to figure out what the creature was through the curtain of darkness and the never-ending rain, but the details stayed hidden. The figure's posture was steady and scary, its broad shoulders and muscular build hinting at a tough enemy. Gribble's heart raced as he watched the figure, his mind imagining all sorts of terrifying possibilities. The creature's stillness was creepy, as if it was waiting for just the right moment to attack. A wave of dread washed over Gribble, and he instinctively pressed himself further into the cave's shadows, desperate to avoid being seen. The figure's presence was a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the cave's walls, and Gribble's survival instincts kicked into high gear as he thought about his next move.
A blinding flash of lightning tore through the night sky, filling the cave with an eerie, otherworldly light. For a split second, the creature's identity was revealed, and Gribble's eyes widened in horror as he took in the sight before him. Standing at the cave's entrance was a dark blue Thundercat, its muscular body rippling with power beneath its sleek, electric blue fur. The Thundercat's eyes gleamed with a predatory intensity, reflecting the lightning's flash like two pools of melted gold. Gribble's gaze was drawn to the creature's long, razor-sharp sabertooth fangs, which glinted menacingly in the momentary light. The sight of the Thundercat sent a wave of primal fear rushing through Gribble's veins, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. The stories he had heard of these legendary beasts paled in comparison to the reality that stood before him, and Gribble knew that he was facing a creature of unimaginable strength and ferocity.
Gribble's panic reached a fever pitch, his breath coming in short, labored gasps as he stared at the Thundercat. The tales of these feared creatures flooded his mind – whispers of the electric sparks that danced through their fur, of their immense strength that was said to rival even the most fearsome Owlbear. Gribble's heart pounded against his ribcage, and he could feel the cold sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill in the air. He knew that he was facing a daunting adversary, one that could easily overpower him in a head-on confrontation. The odds of survival seemed to dwindle with each passing second, and Gribble's mind raced as he desperately tried to come up with a plan. The Thundercat's presence loomed over him like a suffocating shadow, and Gribble could feel the weight of its gaze boring into him, even from across the cave. He understood that he must act quickly and decisively if he hoped to escape this encounter with his life.
Reacting on instinct, Gribble called upon his innate power to conjure bean-sized fireballs. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a barrage of the tiny, flaming projectiles hurtling towards the cave entrance, where they burst into brilliant flashes of light upon impact. The fiery assault illuminated the cave, casting dancing shadows on the walls and bathing the Thundercat in an orange glow. The heat from the flames was intense, and Gribble could feel the scorching air brushing against his skin. The fireballs sizzled and crackled as they hit the stone, sending sparks flying in all directions. For a moment, the cave was filled with a dazzling display of light and sound, a stark contrast to the dark, scary storm that raged outside. Gribble's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and excitement as he watched the fireballs explode, hoping that the sudden attack would be enough to distract the Thundercat and give him a chance to escape.
Gribble's mind raced as he sent the fireballs towards the Thundercat, desperately hoping that the sudden attack would give him the distraction he needed to make his escape. He focused his thoughts, tapping into his teleportation powers and trying to picture a safe place outside the cave. However, the tiredness and the fear that gripped his heart made it hard to concentrate. Gribble's brow furrowed as he tried to gather the needed energy, but his body felt heavy and sluggish, as if he was moving through water. The image of the safe haven he sought flickered in his mind's eye, tantalizingly close but just out of reach. Gribble gritted his teeth, pushing himself to the limits of his mental and physical strength as he struggled to keep his focus. The cave seemed to spin around him, and he could feel the cold tendrils of despair creeping into his heart as he realized that his teleportation powers might fail him in this critical moment.
Gribble's heart sank as he watched the Thundercat emerge unharmed from the fiery assault. The creature's electric blue fur crackled with energy, the sparks dancing across its body like tiny bolts of lightning. The Thundercat's eyes blazed with an otherworldly intensity, and it let out a deafening roar that shook the very foundations of the cave. The sound was unlike anything Gribble had ever heard before – a primal, guttural cry that seemed to echo through his very bones. The cave walls trembled, and small rocks and debris rained down from the ceiling, adding to the chaos of the moment. Gribble realized with a sinking feeling that the Thundercat was not only unharmed but enraged by his attack. The creature's muscles rippled beneath its fur as it prepared to charge, and Gribble knew that a battle was now unavoidable. He steeled himself, summoning every ounce of courage and determination he possessed, knowing that he must fight with all his might if he hoped to survive this encounter.
The Thundercat sprang into action, its powerful legs propelling it towards Gribble with a speed that defied belief. The creature moved with a fluid grace, its body a blur of electric blue as it closed the distance between them in mere seconds. Gribble barely had time to react before the Thundercat was upon him, its razor-sharp claws slashing through the air with deadly precision. He threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the initial attack, but the Thundercat's agility was unmatched. The creature pivoted mid-leap, its tail lashing out like a whip and its claws finding purchase on the cave wall as it redirected its momentum. Gribble's heart raced as he realized the true extent of the Thundercat's physical prowess – its reflexes were lightning-fast, and its strength was beyond anything he had ever encountered. The creature's eyes locked onto Gribble, and he could see the predatory gleam within them, the raw hunger for the hunt. Gribble knew that he must keep moving, keep dodging, if he hoped to stay alive long enough to find a way to counter the Thundercat's relentless assault.
Despite the fatigue that weighed heavily upon him, Gribble mustered the last reserves of his energy and called upon his earth vine powers. He focused his mind, reaching out to the cave floor and seeking the dormant life that lay beneath the stone. With a surge of effort, Gribble summoned a single, thick green tendril from the ground, watching as it burst forth and snaked its way towards the Thundercat. The vine wrapped itself around one of the creature's muscular legs, momentarily halting its advance and giving Gribble a fleeting moment of hope. However, the Thundercat's strength was too great, and it easily ripped through the vine with a snarl of annoyance. The severed tendril fell to the cave floor, writhing like a dying snake before going still. Gribble's heart sank as he realized that his earth vine powers, once a reliable ally in battle, were no match for the Thundercat's raw power. The creature's gaze turned back to Gribble, its eyes narrowing with a mixture of anger and predatory anticipation, and he knew that he must find another way to defend himself before it was too late.
Gribble's mind raced as he desperately searched for a way to gain the upper hand against the relentless Thundercat. In a last-ditch effort, he summoned another volley of bean-sized fireballs, pouring every ounce of his remaining energy into the attack. The tiny flames erupted from his fingertips in rapid succession, streaking through the air like miniature comets and striking the Thundercat's fur with sizzling precision. The creature hissed in pain as the fireballs singed its coat, but its anger only seemed to grow with each passing second. Gribble's exhaustion began to take its toll, his movements becoming sluggish and uncoordinated as he struggled to maintain the barrage. His vision blurred, and his limbs felt heavy, as if he was moving through molasses. The Thundercat pressed its advantage, its claws and fangs flashing in the dim light of the cave as it lunged towards Gribble with renewed ferocity. He knew that he could not keep up this pace for much longer, and a sense of despair began to creep into his heart as he realized that his efforts might not be enough to save him from the Thundercat's wrath.
The Thundercat seized the opportunity presented by Gribble's faltering defense, delivering a devastating blow that sent the young adventurer flying across the cave. Gribble felt the air rush from his lungs as he slammed into the unyielding rock wall, his body crumpling to the ground in a heap of pain and exhaustion. Stars danced before his eyes, and he gasped for breath, each inhalation sending shockwaves of agony through his battered frame. Gribble's mind reeled as he tried to assess the extent of his injuries, but the pain was too great, too all-consuming. He could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, and he knew that he was badly hurt. The Thundercat's shadow fell over him, and Gribble looked up to see the creature looming above, its eyes glinting with a mixture of triumph and bloodlust. He tried to move, to crawl away, but his body refused to cooperate, and he collapsed back to the ground, his strength utterly spent. Gribble's heart pounded with the realization that he might not survive this encounter, and a cold sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.
Gribble lay broken and helpless on the cave floor, his vision swimming as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. The Thundercat stood over him, its electric blue fur crackling with energy as it prepared to deliver the final, fatal blow. Gribble's mind raced, desperately searching for a way out, for some last-minute miracle that could save him from this dire fate. He tried to summon his powers, to call upon the earth or conjure another fireball, but his body was too weak, too battered to respond. The Thundercat's eyes bore into him, and Gribble could see the raw, primal hunger that burned within them – the desire to end his life and claim victory. His heart hammered in his chest, and he could feel the cold tendrils of fear wrapping around his soul as he stared death in the face.
Would he find a way to overcome the Thundercat, or would his journey come to a tragic end in the depths of the cave? The fate of the young goblin hung in the balance, and only time would tell if he had the strength and cunning to emerge victorious.
2024.05.15 02:31 Crucisphinx Lower lip numb after abdominal surgery??
25NB, AFAB, known drugs given in or just after surgery include morphine, general anesthesia, oxycodone, toradol, dilaudid, and Tylenol.
Had abdominal laparoscopy for endometriosis location and ablation today, 5/14, went in at 11 and came out at 12. Was extremely drowsy in recovery until 2 when I actually woke up due to extreme pain on opening eyes at 12.
A section of my lower lip is completely numb after an abdominal laparoscopy. At first I assumed they may use topical to numb me for intubation if they do it before complete paralyzation, but it’s now 5 hours after I woke up for the first time in recovery and it’s still numb? I also woke up with a headache and have petechiae around my eyes most noticeably and lightly covering the rest of my face. No complications were reported.
I’ve had 9 other surgeries under general (including the exact same one) and 2 light sedation events and have yet to experience either of these effects, barring numbness during my wisdom tooth removal. I don’t think it’s serious enough to call the number they gave me for an on call gyno doctor but I’m also slightly concerned.
submitted by Crucisphinx to AskDocs [link] [comments]
Had abdominal laparoscopy for endometriosis location and ablation today, 5/14, went in at 11 and came out at 12. Was extremely drowsy in recovery until 2 when I actually woke up due to extreme pain on opening eyes at 12.
A section of my lower lip is completely numb after an abdominal laparoscopy. At first I assumed they may use topical to numb me for intubation if they do it before complete paralyzation, but it’s now 5 hours after I woke up for the first time in recovery and it’s still numb? I also woke up with a headache and have petechiae around my eyes most noticeably and lightly covering the rest of my face. No complications were reported.
I’ve had 9 other surgeries under general (including the exact same one) and 2 light sedation events and have yet to experience either of these effects, barring numbness during my wisdom tooth removal. I don’t think it’s serious enough to call the number they gave me for an on call gyno doctor but I’m also slightly concerned.
2024.05.15 01:47 Zealousideal_Drama71 1 yr of muscle twitching
27M and I initially started having symptoms May 2023 that ranged from migraines+auras, left side of body tingling + numbness that lasted for a month. Clean brain, cervical, thoracic, and lumbar MRIs with and without contrast. (8 MRIs and counting wooo)
Labs were normal except for severe vitamin B12 and D deficiency, which I am treating with supplements. Soon after (October 2023) started experiencing muscle fasciculations throughout the body (arms, legs, chest, back, face,etc.) and have not gone away. Also, trigger finger-like symptoms on right pinky finger and what looks like palmis brevis syndrome. Rheumatologist rules out arthritis. Diagnosed with ulnar neuropathy after EMG of upper extremities.
March 2024, I had a clean EMG of lower extremities after experiencing burning and tingling sensation in legs from standing for no more 10mins at a time.
As of now, I have ruled out autoimmune diseases (ANA negative), other neurological issues besides my ulnar neuropathy. Neurologist has no reason to suspect ***…all lab work has been normal. Muscle fascilulations and cramps still present and considered benign (BFS / CFS).
I wonder if anyone has any ideas of what other things I should be looking out for (EDS?). I have health anxiety and having no actual diagnosis has been worrisome.
submitted by Zealousideal_Drama71 to MuscleTwitch [link] [comments]
Labs were normal except for severe vitamin B12 and D deficiency, which I am treating with supplements. Soon after (October 2023) started experiencing muscle fasciculations throughout the body (arms, legs, chest, back, face,etc.) and have not gone away. Also, trigger finger-like symptoms on right pinky finger and what looks like palmis brevis syndrome. Rheumatologist rules out arthritis. Diagnosed with ulnar neuropathy after EMG of upper extremities.
March 2024, I had a clean EMG of lower extremities after experiencing burning and tingling sensation in legs from standing for no more 10mins at a time.
As of now, I have ruled out autoimmune diseases (ANA negative), other neurological issues besides my ulnar neuropathy. Neurologist has no reason to suspect ***…all lab work has been normal. Muscle fascilulations and cramps still present and considered benign (BFS / CFS).
I wonder if anyone has any ideas of what other things I should be looking out for (EDS?). I have health anxiety and having no actual diagnosis has been worrisome.
2024.05.15 01:19 Ok-Bell1889 Chest and back pain/panic & anxiety
My journey….two months ago I thought I was having a stroke…panic attack…next day I had back to back anxiety attacks in waves every couple minutes and I was extremely dizzy so I went to the ER. Had about three more panic attacks that I could breathe through and then bam! ER with an extreme panic attack that they found put me in SVT and now I’m on propranolol..I’ve had so many symptoms since then, chest pain, headaches, tingling, numbness, loss of feeling in both arms and hands, palpitations, dizziness, back pain…you name it…I’ve had an echo, stress test, ekg, blood tests, endoscopy, colonoscopy, mri of neck, ct scan of chest, abdomen and head…what gives…never having anxiety before and all of a sudden it’s 24/7? My main concern is chest pain in my heart area and back 24/7…nothing alleviates it and doctors think I’m nuts for feeling all of these new symptoms and being concerned…its way more physical than mental…my mental was fine…I still expose myself, I still do things…any advice PLEASE!!! Edit: no personal medical history other than molar pregnancy in sept. History of cardiac issues on both sides of family Female 30 5’2 144 lbs
submitted by Ok-Bell1889 to Anxiety [link] [comments]
2024.05.15 00:29 Glacialfury [WP] a magical fantasy paladin is transported to a sci fi universe.
The shadow reared up and inhaled deeply, a loud rush of air into a giant bellows.
The light from Hadrian’s aura sparked off the creature’s jet-black scales and burned back the darkness so that a soft, nimbus glow revealed the dusty throne room of a long-dead mountain fortress.
He knew his Aura wasn’t enough to defeat the mighty dragon or even to harm it. But the sting of its touch would provide a distraction, sap a portion of the dragon's power to defend against the light.
He smiled behind his visor. Wherever there was darkness, he would bring the light. This was his oath.
The dragon’s head reached nearly to the ceiling atop a long sinuous neck, thick as a tree, and covered in armored scales the color of midnight and stronger than steel. The creature’s body curved behind it, vast and muscled, covered in the same black scales and leathery wings folded at its sides. Shiny black talons like curved longswords dug deep ruts into the stone floor. The dragon was a terrifying sight to behold, power-given flesh. Any other man would have trembled at the sight of it, lost his bowels to fear and his mind to madness. But Hadrian was no ordinary man. He was a Paladin of the White Rose, armored in his faith and blessed by his god. He traveled the land, hunting out the dark. That meant evil trembled before him.
The dragon probed the defenses shielding Hadrian’s mind from psionic attacks. He felt this as a slight pressure in his thoughts, the featherlight touch of falling gossamer. Then it was gone—repelled by the strength of his mental wards.
The dragon roared its fury.
Hadrian stood tall before Xegotargetol, the mightiest of the shadow dragons.
Slowly, he drew Dawnstar from its sheath and held it aloft, paying homage to his god. The sword gleamed like polished silver, double-edged and etched down both sides of the blade with intricate runes of power. In his other hand, he held Smite, a mighty tower shield the color of ivory and traced with shimmering runes. A gift from High Priest Adleson for the head of an ancient and terrible scourge.
“Fool!” Xegotargetol’s voice was a crash of thunder. Chunks of masonry fell from the ceiling. Dust drifted down. “You think to match your feeble power against mine?” Xegotargetol’s eyes glowed terribly in the dark, livid with crimson rage.
The air around Hadrian began to tingle, and the hairs on his arms under his armor stirred, like in the moments before a lightning strike.
Hadrian lifted his shield.
A bolt of crackling power thundered from the dragon’s maw, arcing and clawing toward him with murderous exaltation.
Hadrian muttered a word of power. Runes glowed to life on Smite.
He caught the lightning on his shield, and the metal heels of his burnished sabatons screeched sparks on the stone as he was pushed back. Ozone filled the air, and the roaring snap and crack of the lightning drowned out the dragon’s laughter. “You will not defeat me, foolish human!”
Hadrian clenched his teeth, muscles aflame, and with trembling effort, crossed his blade over the place where the lightning writhed on the face of his shield. There was a loud clap and a mighty roar, and Hadrian stumbled forward a step as the force pressing against him abruptly vanished.
Smoke rose from his shield. He peered over it, sword held at the ready.
Wisps rose from the dragon’s scales, dull and charred.
“Clever trick,” Xegotargetol growled out the words. “But it will not save you.”
Power gathered around the dragon until the air shimmered. “Behold, I am unleashed! Be gone, fool human!” The dragon reared back and snapped its maw forward like the tail on the end of a whip. A sphere of smoldering darkness streaked toward Hadrian.
He muttered a prayer to his god and braced his shield for the impact.
Darkness enveloped him.
Not the kind of utter blackness you’d find at the bottom of a grave, but a flickering, seething murk that carried him away on a flood of rapids. He clutched his shield close and his sword closer. On and on, he tumbled and spun, dashed among the inky waves until a bright speck appeared in the distance, growing in size with each heartbeat.
A moment later, Hadrian clattered out of the light onto hard ground, rolling and skidding to a stop. He lay there for a long moment, breathless and bruised, his mind reeling with all that had happened.
You were a fool ever to think you could defeat me. The words came as a fading whisper in his mind.
He rolled over and pushed himself up on hands and knees, and froze.
The ground was made of dark metal, and the air carried a blend of strange scents and dizzying sounds. Strangefolk in strange attire gathered around him, murmuring in words he could not understand. They held small devices that emitted a dot of light and wore art painted on their bare arms and shoulders. Evil spawn.
Hadrian rose to his feet, sword and shield at the ready. He turned slowly in place, studying the people as anxiety swelled in his heart. Massive buildings of exotic design surrounded him, soaring to disappear high into the sky. Lights in every color imaginable blinded him, blared strange music and jumping pictures. Strange beasts roared past in the air. But the strangest thing of all was the moon, or rather, that there were two of them, one half the size of the other; both glowing a pale, hazy blue.
What abyss is this? Realization struck. Xegotargetol could not breach his defenses, so the dragon had teleported him to this place.
Then, a familiar sight snagged his eye. He stopped, staring at a reflection.
It was him, standing in his armor, silver plate inlaid with ivory and bronze, fancy traceries running up and down his arms and over his chest. There could be no mistake. But it wasn’t a reflection, was it? This was something else, some kind of apparition. A magic projection contained within a wide rectangular simulacrum taller than his father’s inn.
He took in his surroundings, dread building to a boil.
This was not Aeterna or any place he’d ever heard of. This was some kind of hell, a decaying abyss full of madmen and fevered dreams. This was his nightmare made reality.
A metal dragon covered in flashing lights roared down out of the sky. It screamed words at him he did not understand.
I warned you, fool.
Hadrian firmed his jaw and hefted his sword. Time to cleanse this place.
submitted by Glacialfury to Glacialwrites [link] [comments]
The light from Hadrian’s aura sparked off the creature’s jet-black scales and burned back the darkness so that a soft, nimbus glow revealed the dusty throne room of a long-dead mountain fortress.
He knew his Aura wasn’t enough to defeat the mighty dragon or even to harm it. But the sting of its touch would provide a distraction, sap a portion of the dragon's power to defend against the light.
He smiled behind his visor. Wherever there was darkness, he would bring the light. This was his oath.
The dragon’s head reached nearly to the ceiling atop a long sinuous neck, thick as a tree, and covered in armored scales the color of midnight and stronger than steel. The creature’s body curved behind it, vast and muscled, covered in the same black scales and leathery wings folded at its sides. Shiny black talons like curved longswords dug deep ruts into the stone floor. The dragon was a terrifying sight to behold, power-given flesh. Any other man would have trembled at the sight of it, lost his bowels to fear and his mind to madness. But Hadrian was no ordinary man. He was a Paladin of the White Rose, armored in his faith and blessed by his god. He traveled the land, hunting out the dark. That meant evil trembled before him.
The dragon probed the defenses shielding Hadrian’s mind from psionic attacks. He felt this as a slight pressure in his thoughts, the featherlight touch of falling gossamer. Then it was gone—repelled by the strength of his mental wards.
The dragon roared its fury.
Hadrian stood tall before Xegotargetol, the mightiest of the shadow dragons.
Slowly, he drew Dawnstar from its sheath and held it aloft, paying homage to his god. The sword gleamed like polished silver, double-edged and etched down both sides of the blade with intricate runes of power. In his other hand, he held Smite, a mighty tower shield the color of ivory and traced with shimmering runes. A gift from High Priest Adleson for the head of an ancient and terrible scourge.
“Fool!” Xegotargetol’s voice was a crash of thunder. Chunks of masonry fell from the ceiling. Dust drifted down. “You think to match your feeble power against mine?” Xegotargetol’s eyes glowed terribly in the dark, livid with crimson rage.
The air around Hadrian began to tingle, and the hairs on his arms under his armor stirred, like in the moments before a lightning strike.
Hadrian lifted his shield.
A bolt of crackling power thundered from the dragon’s maw, arcing and clawing toward him with murderous exaltation.
Hadrian muttered a word of power. Runes glowed to life on Smite.
He caught the lightning on his shield, and the metal heels of his burnished sabatons screeched sparks on the stone as he was pushed back. Ozone filled the air, and the roaring snap and crack of the lightning drowned out the dragon’s laughter. “You will not defeat me, foolish human!”
Hadrian clenched his teeth, muscles aflame, and with trembling effort, crossed his blade over the place where the lightning writhed on the face of his shield. There was a loud clap and a mighty roar, and Hadrian stumbled forward a step as the force pressing against him abruptly vanished.
Smoke rose from his shield. He peered over it, sword held at the ready.
Wisps rose from the dragon’s scales, dull and charred.
“Clever trick,” Xegotargetol growled out the words. “But it will not save you.”
Power gathered around the dragon until the air shimmered. “Behold, I am unleashed! Be gone, fool human!” The dragon reared back and snapped its maw forward like the tail on the end of a whip. A sphere of smoldering darkness streaked toward Hadrian.
He muttered a prayer to his god and braced his shield for the impact.
Darkness enveloped him.
Not the kind of utter blackness you’d find at the bottom of a grave, but a flickering, seething murk that carried him away on a flood of rapids. He clutched his shield close and his sword closer. On and on, he tumbled and spun, dashed among the inky waves until a bright speck appeared in the distance, growing in size with each heartbeat.
A moment later, Hadrian clattered out of the light onto hard ground, rolling and skidding to a stop. He lay there for a long moment, breathless and bruised, his mind reeling with all that had happened.
You were a fool ever to think you could defeat me. The words came as a fading whisper in his mind.
He rolled over and pushed himself up on hands and knees, and froze.
The ground was made of dark metal, and the air carried a blend of strange scents and dizzying sounds. Strangefolk in strange attire gathered around him, murmuring in words he could not understand. They held small devices that emitted a dot of light and wore art painted on their bare arms and shoulders. Evil spawn.
Hadrian rose to his feet, sword and shield at the ready. He turned slowly in place, studying the people as anxiety swelled in his heart. Massive buildings of exotic design surrounded him, soaring to disappear high into the sky. Lights in every color imaginable blinded him, blared strange music and jumping pictures. Strange beasts roared past in the air. But the strangest thing of all was the moon, or rather, that there were two of them, one half the size of the other; both glowing a pale, hazy blue.
What abyss is this? Realization struck. Xegotargetol could not breach his defenses, so the dragon had teleported him to this place.
Then, a familiar sight snagged his eye. He stopped, staring at a reflection.
It was him, standing in his armor, silver plate inlaid with ivory and bronze, fancy traceries running up and down his arms and over his chest. There could be no mistake. But it wasn’t a reflection, was it? This was something else, some kind of apparition. A magic projection contained within a wide rectangular simulacrum taller than his father’s inn.
He took in his surroundings, dread building to a boil.
This was not Aeterna or any place he’d ever heard of. This was some kind of hell, a decaying abyss full of madmen and fevered dreams. This was his nightmare made reality.
A metal dragon covered in flashing lights roared down out of the sky. It screamed words at him he did not understand.
I warned you, fool.
Hadrian firmed his jaw and hefted his sword. Time to cleanse this place.
2024.05.15 00:19 hoggersbridge Engines of Arachnea: A Science Fantasy Epic (Chapter 17: what Lies Beneath Flesh)
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
High above in her hiding spot, Zildiz had heard enough. The Leapers were her kindred’s most hated of adversaries, and she could not allow them to gain even a fraction of the grey behemoth’s awesome might. An apocalyptic vision arose in her mind of titanic Leaper variants towering over the rooftops of Chthonis, setting the Parchment City alight with beams of all-destroying light emanating from their many eyes.
Four against one. Those were slim odds even under the best of circumstances. Still, she had the element of surprise, and ambush predators were often unaccustomed to being preyed upon themselves. But Leapers were notoriously difficult opponents to sneak up on as they literally had eyes on the backs of their heads. But Zildiz was a veteran of countless border skirmishes, and had learned of a small blind spot in their vision. It was above and slightly behind the axis of their posterior lateral median eyes. But many Gallivants who had tried to make their first kill that way did not survive to tell the tale—the flutter of their wings gave them away. She would have to drop straight down on her first target. No hesitation, no second chances.
She saw the alpha Leaper lean down to extract the prey-form’s gilt helix, and saw her opening.
Rene heard a branch snap somewhere above him and felt a gust of wind blow across his neck, bearing with it droplets of moisture that pattered lightly against the visor of his mask. His first thought was that it had started to rain. He glanced up at the monster to find that it had extruded a new mouthpart, some manner of sharp, serrated tongue whose tip oozed a wet and viscous fluid. Rene flinched reflexively, expecting at any moment to feel the point punching through his skull before draining out its contents like a straw. But then the blade twisted sharply, wrenching its way out of the back of the monster’s head and drenching Rene’s mask in a shower of gore, the four-eyed devil letting out a wet gurgle as it slumped over in a twitching heap.
Pawing at his mask with his bound wrists, Rene peered through his smeared vision and saw a figure standing atop the corpse that, if anything, possessed an even less lovely countenance than his erstwhile interlocutor. A bulbous compound eye stared back Rene like a shattered mirror, a thousand miniscule reflections of himself repeating across its scaly lenses.
Rene recognized the creature as one of the harpies from earlier. One of its broad wings was missing. It drew its bloodstained blade across its mandibles, casually licking the weapon clean as an eight-limbed devil leapt at the harpy from behind, letting loose a bloodcurdling scream. But the harpy did not even turn at the sound, merely pointing its other blade arm behind it and letting its attacker impale itself upon it, clean through. With its dying spasms the devil pulled itself up the length of the blade in an effort to reach the harpy, even as its two kin recovered from their surprise and pounced at the harpy from either side. What followed was a blur of movement almost too quick for the human eye to follow as the harpy spun in place, cleaving the monster on the left halfway through its sternum. In the same movement it turned the devil stuck on the end of its blade into the path of the attacker on the right, using it as a living shield. The impact still bowled the harpy over, all four of the combatants rolling on the ground in a ball of threshing limbs and furious struggle.
The din was horrendous. Siezing the golden opportunity which had presented itself, Rene reached once more for the sword of the ancients, stretching his sinews for all they were worth. It was just enough to let him pinch the pommel-button between his middle and forefingers. Raising it up in spite of his trembling, sweat-slick grip, Rene coaxed the hilt into palm of his waiting hand, then pounded the button against his chest, feeling the sword come alive in his hands. As the fight raged on behind him, Rene sliced his legs free. He tucked in his head as he hit the ground, rolling onto his arse and reversing his grip on the sword, swiftly cutting the bonds around his wrists. When he tried to stand, however, he found that his legs were still unresponsive, all the blood within them having flowed up to his torso during his time spent hanging upside down. Pounding the life back into the clammy flesh of his calves with his fist, Rene looked anxiously around and discovered that the battle had since moved elsewhere, leaving two black-furred corpses in its wake. Cries of rage and a frenzied shaking among the bushes allowed him to guess where the other monsters were. He hoisted himself to his feet, picked up the safety kit and staggered away from the sounds of fighting, pins and needles still numbing the soles of his feet.
As he stepped over the dead bodies in his path, Rene was just about to congratulate himself on a smooth escape when his toes snagged on something and he tripped, going down heavily on his side. Rene felt a powerful yank on his ankle and looked to see the previously impaled monster glaring up at him. It wriggled on its belly and pulled him closer with one hand while it held in its spilled guts with the other three. By the ancestors, was it strong! Rene hacked at the hand holding his foot and lopped it off at the forearm, feeling only the slightest tug of resistance as the edge sheared through bone and meat alike. The hand was still clamped shut about his ankle with a death grip as he stood back up.
The fiend’s back arched as it brought its vile hump of flesh to the fore, dozens of sucking orifices on its misshapen surface spreading open wide.
Thwip! Thwip!
Jets of silk flew out of the spinnerets, the monster using its claws to grasp the threads and shuttering them back and forth like the shuttles of a loom. Cords flicked out and ensnared Rene’s sword arm, pinning it to his side while the weaver applied a lightning-fast field dressing on its abdominal wound, closing off both ends with wads of its makeshift bandage. Rene strained mightily against the loops of silk, but they never budged an inch. Meanwhile, the monster raked him with its claws, opening bright lines of agony across his chest and shoulder. Rene bit back a scream and dropped the sword point-first into the soil. It sank quivering up to its hilt, leaving him completely defenseless as the monster jumped and snatched him up in its gangly embrace. Rene fell to one knee as its weight bore him to the earth, reaching out with his free hand to draw the sword out of the ground and cleave through its rows of hairy legs.
Severed limbs went rolling every which way, the black devil tottering. Yet as it fell its outer mouthparts seized Rene by the temples and pinned him in place as it bit right into his face. Venomed fangs skittered across the transparent surface of his mask, scoring it with deep scratches. To his amazement the crystal held strong and did not shatter—once more the materials of the ancients had proven their incredible durability. Rene worked his arm clear and chopped wildly at the monster’s arms, felt its hold on him slacken as they fell away, leaving only spurting stumps. The butchered devil fell on its humped back and began shrieking its head off.
Rene raised his sword to deliver the coup de grace but was interrupted by the sudden reemergence of the other combatants who burst back onto the scene. The harpy was grappling with one of the devils, quickly being overpowered by its brute strength. As the devil sank its fangs into the bulging pair of compound eyes and tore off the top of the harpy’s head, the latter found an opening and slipped both its blades through in tight uppercutting motions, ramming them under the devil’s chin and out the other end. Ripping outwards and across with its arms the harpy tore its enemy’s head apart and sent the soggy chunks scattering into the treetops.
Reeling in obvious pain, it kicked the body aside and took off with a shutter of its wings, attempting an escape. A feral scream split the air as, the last devil leapt up to intercept it, entrails dangling in the place of its missing lower body. Devoid of sanity or self-preservation, it tacked the rising harpy and sent both of them crashing into a stout branch. They fell back to the earth with a bone-crunching thump, followed by a confetti-shower of dead leaves shaken from their stems.
Rene looked back at his enemy and saw the devil stubbornly gathering itself up for another spring. All it had left were a single arm and leg apiece, that and a merciless glitter in its eyes.
“You can’t be serious,” he complained, and put an end to its efforts by splitting its head right down the middle. Rene shook his head in disbelief and went over to polish off the other two, snipping his webbed arm loose as he did. He found the bisected devil crawling on its elbows and mewling with pain as it wriggled towards the unmoving body of the harpy, clearly intending to finish what it had started.
There were eyes on the back of its head, Rene now noticed. Four of them, the same number as on the front. It saw him coming and rolled over, raising its arms to shield itself.
Rene’s boot came stomping down all the same. He felt its head crunching under his heel as he squashed it into a flattened pie and was nauseated. Rene then approached the harpy, eyeing its blade arms warily and giving it a wide berth. He didn’t want to get anywhere near those frightful things, not after what he’d seen. Instead he went over to a fallen log and cut himself an oversized club from one of its boughs. Sticking the sword back into the ground, he hefted the length of wood over the harpy, intending to smash its head in from a distance.
He felt strangely squeamish at prospect of another head going splat. A wave of dizziness came over him and he had to take a moment to collect himself, doubling over and beginning to dry heave. Leaning heavily on the bough like a staff, he examined the harpy and thought that it looked sufficiently dead. Through the gaping holes in its face he saw the gooey interior of its head. Was that its brain poking through the cracks in the armored hide? Blimey, it had a big one. Equal parts revolted and intrigued, Rene reached over with the branch and prodded at it, testing for a reflex.
Nothing. Better to be safe than sorry, though. Rene raised the bough on high and steeled himself to do the deed once and for all.
A piece of the head fell away, and Rene gasped. Abandoning common sense, he threw aside the club and squatted over the body, frantically tearing off the rest of its cranial casing, plunging his fingers into the sticky mess and pulling out clumps of armored flesh until what lay beneath was finally revealed.
Rene clutched at his forehead as if it was about to explode. Backing away with a sense of dawning horror, he repeated over and over to himself: “It can’t be. It can’t be, it can’t! That’s not possible! It’s…it’s…”
Beautiful.
That was what Rene had meant to say. But the word felt so utterly absurd given the context that it took all his will to keep from bursting into a fit of deranged laughter. And who could have blamed him?
For beneath the ruined visage of flesh, the creature wore the face of a woman.
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
submitted by hoggersbridge to HFY [link] [comments]
High above in her hiding spot, Zildiz had heard enough. The Leapers were her kindred’s most hated of adversaries, and she could not allow them to gain even a fraction of the grey behemoth’s awesome might. An apocalyptic vision arose in her mind of titanic Leaper variants towering over the rooftops of Chthonis, setting the Parchment City alight with beams of all-destroying light emanating from their many eyes.
Four against one. Those were slim odds even under the best of circumstances. Still, she had the element of surprise, and ambush predators were often unaccustomed to being preyed upon themselves. But Leapers were notoriously difficult opponents to sneak up on as they literally had eyes on the backs of their heads. But Zildiz was a veteran of countless border skirmishes, and had learned of a small blind spot in their vision. It was above and slightly behind the axis of their posterior lateral median eyes. But many Gallivants who had tried to make their first kill that way did not survive to tell the tale—the flutter of their wings gave them away. She would have to drop straight down on her first target. No hesitation, no second chances.
She saw the alpha Leaper lean down to extract the prey-form’s gilt helix, and saw her opening.
Rene heard a branch snap somewhere above him and felt a gust of wind blow across his neck, bearing with it droplets of moisture that pattered lightly against the visor of his mask. His first thought was that it had started to rain. He glanced up at the monster to find that it had extruded a new mouthpart, some manner of sharp, serrated tongue whose tip oozed a wet and viscous fluid. Rene flinched reflexively, expecting at any moment to feel the point punching through his skull before draining out its contents like a straw. But then the blade twisted sharply, wrenching its way out of the back of the monster’s head and drenching Rene’s mask in a shower of gore, the four-eyed devil letting out a wet gurgle as it slumped over in a twitching heap.
Pawing at his mask with his bound wrists, Rene peered through his smeared vision and saw a figure standing atop the corpse that, if anything, possessed an even less lovely countenance than his erstwhile interlocutor. A bulbous compound eye stared back Rene like a shattered mirror, a thousand miniscule reflections of himself repeating across its scaly lenses.
Rene recognized the creature as one of the harpies from earlier. One of its broad wings was missing. It drew its bloodstained blade across its mandibles, casually licking the weapon clean as an eight-limbed devil leapt at the harpy from behind, letting loose a bloodcurdling scream. But the harpy did not even turn at the sound, merely pointing its other blade arm behind it and letting its attacker impale itself upon it, clean through. With its dying spasms the devil pulled itself up the length of the blade in an effort to reach the harpy, even as its two kin recovered from their surprise and pounced at the harpy from either side. What followed was a blur of movement almost too quick for the human eye to follow as the harpy spun in place, cleaving the monster on the left halfway through its sternum. In the same movement it turned the devil stuck on the end of its blade into the path of the attacker on the right, using it as a living shield. The impact still bowled the harpy over, all four of the combatants rolling on the ground in a ball of threshing limbs and furious struggle.
The din was horrendous. Siezing the golden opportunity which had presented itself, Rene reached once more for the sword of the ancients, stretching his sinews for all they were worth. It was just enough to let him pinch the pommel-button between his middle and forefingers. Raising it up in spite of his trembling, sweat-slick grip, Rene coaxed the hilt into palm of his waiting hand, then pounded the button against his chest, feeling the sword come alive in his hands. As the fight raged on behind him, Rene sliced his legs free. He tucked in his head as he hit the ground, rolling onto his arse and reversing his grip on the sword, swiftly cutting the bonds around his wrists. When he tried to stand, however, he found that his legs were still unresponsive, all the blood within them having flowed up to his torso during his time spent hanging upside down. Pounding the life back into the clammy flesh of his calves with his fist, Rene looked anxiously around and discovered that the battle had since moved elsewhere, leaving two black-furred corpses in its wake. Cries of rage and a frenzied shaking among the bushes allowed him to guess where the other monsters were. He hoisted himself to his feet, picked up the safety kit and staggered away from the sounds of fighting, pins and needles still numbing the soles of his feet.
As he stepped over the dead bodies in his path, Rene was just about to congratulate himself on a smooth escape when his toes snagged on something and he tripped, going down heavily on his side. Rene felt a powerful yank on his ankle and looked to see the previously impaled monster glaring up at him. It wriggled on its belly and pulled him closer with one hand while it held in its spilled guts with the other three. By the ancestors, was it strong! Rene hacked at the hand holding his foot and lopped it off at the forearm, feeling only the slightest tug of resistance as the edge sheared through bone and meat alike. The hand was still clamped shut about his ankle with a death grip as he stood back up.
The fiend’s back arched as it brought its vile hump of flesh to the fore, dozens of sucking orifices on its misshapen surface spreading open wide.
Thwip! Thwip!
Jets of silk flew out of the spinnerets, the monster using its claws to grasp the threads and shuttering them back and forth like the shuttles of a loom. Cords flicked out and ensnared Rene’s sword arm, pinning it to his side while the weaver applied a lightning-fast field dressing on its abdominal wound, closing off both ends with wads of its makeshift bandage. Rene strained mightily against the loops of silk, but they never budged an inch. Meanwhile, the monster raked him with its claws, opening bright lines of agony across his chest and shoulder. Rene bit back a scream and dropped the sword point-first into the soil. It sank quivering up to its hilt, leaving him completely defenseless as the monster jumped and snatched him up in its gangly embrace. Rene fell to one knee as its weight bore him to the earth, reaching out with his free hand to draw the sword out of the ground and cleave through its rows of hairy legs.
Severed limbs went rolling every which way, the black devil tottering. Yet as it fell its outer mouthparts seized Rene by the temples and pinned him in place as it bit right into his face. Venomed fangs skittered across the transparent surface of his mask, scoring it with deep scratches. To his amazement the crystal held strong and did not shatter—once more the materials of the ancients had proven their incredible durability. Rene worked his arm clear and chopped wildly at the monster’s arms, felt its hold on him slacken as they fell away, leaving only spurting stumps. The butchered devil fell on its humped back and began shrieking its head off.
Rene raised his sword to deliver the coup de grace but was interrupted by the sudden reemergence of the other combatants who burst back onto the scene. The harpy was grappling with one of the devils, quickly being overpowered by its brute strength. As the devil sank its fangs into the bulging pair of compound eyes and tore off the top of the harpy’s head, the latter found an opening and slipped both its blades through in tight uppercutting motions, ramming them under the devil’s chin and out the other end. Ripping outwards and across with its arms the harpy tore its enemy’s head apart and sent the soggy chunks scattering into the treetops.
Reeling in obvious pain, it kicked the body aside and took off with a shutter of its wings, attempting an escape. A feral scream split the air as, the last devil leapt up to intercept it, entrails dangling in the place of its missing lower body. Devoid of sanity or self-preservation, it tacked the rising harpy and sent both of them crashing into a stout branch. They fell back to the earth with a bone-crunching thump, followed by a confetti-shower of dead leaves shaken from their stems.
Rene looked back at his enemy and saw the devil stubbornly gathering itself up for another spring. All it had left were a single arm and leg apiece, that and a merciless glitter in its eyes.
“You can’t be serious,” he complained, and put an end to its efforts by splitting its head right down the middle. Rene shook his head in disbelief and went over to polish off the other two, snipping his webbed arm loose as he did. He found the bisected devil crawling on its elbows and mewling with pain as it wriggled towards the unmoving body of the harpy, clearly intending to finish what it had started.
There were eyes on the back of its head, Rene now noticed. Four of them, the same number as on the front. It saw him coming and rolled over, raising its arms to shield itself.
Rene’s boot came stomping down all the same. He felt its head crunching under his heel as he squashed it into a flattened pie and was nauseated. Rene then approached the harpy, eyeing its blade arms warily and giving it a wide berth. He didn’t want to get anywhere near those frightful things, not after what he’d seen. Instead he went over to a fallen log and cut himself an oversized club from one of its boughs. Sticking the sword back into the ground, he hefted the length of wood over the harpy, intending to smash its head in from a distance.
He felt strangely squeamish at prospect of another head going splat. A wave of dizziness came over him and he had to take a moment to collect himself, doubling over and beginning to dry heave. Leaning heavily on the bough like a staff, he examined the harpy and thought that it looked sufficiently dead. Through the gaping holes in its face he saw the gooey interior of its head. Was that its brain poking through the cracks in the armored hide? Blimey, it had a big one. Equal parts revolted and intrigued, Rene reached over with the branch and prodded at it, testing for a reflex.
Nothing. Better to be safe than sorry, though. Rene raised the bough on high and steeled himself to do the deed once and for all.
A piece of the head fell away, and Rene gasped. Abandoning common sense, he threw aside the club and squatted over the body, frantically tearing off the rest of its cranial casing, plunging his fingers into the sticky mess and pulling out clumps of armored flesh until what lay beneath was finally revealed.
Rene clutched at his forehead as if it was about to explode. Backing away with a sense of dawning horror, he repeated over and over to himself: “It can’t be. It can’t be, it can’t! That’s not possible! It’s…it’s…”
Beautiful.
That was what Rene had meant to say. But the word felt so utterly absurd given the context that it took all his will to keep from bursting into a fit of deranged laughter. And who could have blamed him?
For beneath the ruined visage of flesh, the creature wore the face of a woman.
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
2024.05.14 22:11 webwanderin Someone Please Help
I rapid tapered lexapro in September of 2023 as I was getting unsettling symptoms from Lexapro (I have been on since late 2018). In December I had weird brain shocks and arm tingling so I decided to get back on thinking it was all me. I continue strange symptoms through late February 2024 and it bothered me so I tapered down into April and jumped off of 2.5mg on about the 9th. Two weeks later I started have severe neurological symptoms (waves of chills and heat, numbness, shock sensations all over) then deathly anxiety and rapid heart rate with insomnia. In fear for my life I reinstated and my doctor told me to take 10mg which shocked the hell of my system (kindled). I then reduced to 1.0mg but felt I was still in withdrawal and then moved back to 2.5mg. For the last two weeks on 2.5 I have felt like I was actually on fire. I’m in survivng antidepressants and aware of everything but please someone tell me I can be better. I have a 2 year old and another baby due in 7 weeks and I can’t even take a melontimin without activating myself. What do I do?!?!?
Sever anxiety insomnia Nerve pain Cog issues Hypersensitive to all things- supplements, light, sound Lost 24 pounds Developed monophobia
Was a normal dad a month ago
Part of me wants to jump off and ride the beast of withdrawal because sometimes it feels like it’s getting worse.
submitted by webwanderin to ADprotractedwithdrawl [link] [comments]
Sever anxiety insomnia Nerve pain Cog issues Hypersensitive to all things- supplements, light, sound Lost 24 pounds Developed monophobia
Was a normal dad a month ago
Part of me wants to jump off and ride the beast of withdrawal because sometimes it feels like it’s getting worse.
2024.05.14 21:01 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 2)
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.
submitted by Flagg1991 to LetsReadOfficial [link] [comments]
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.
2024.05.14 20:59 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 1)
What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.
submitted by Flagg1991 to LetsReadOfficial [link] [comments]
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.
2024.05.14 20:57 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 2)
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.
submitted by Flagg1991 to LighthouseHorror [link] [comments]
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.
2024.05.14 20:56 Flagg1991 Children of the Night (Part 2)
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.
submitted by Flagg1991 to MrCreepyPasta [link] [comments]
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.