My throat and upper chest burn

Does anyone here have all the heart failure symptoms but NONE of the testing matches? For example normal BNP, normal echo, normal stress Echo, normal CT Angiogram, normal heart cath pressures with no blockages, normal heart cath with exercise, etc. All of my testing is normal yet I feel like I'm in Stage C. My legs burn all the time and are weak. I get short of breath doing trivial things. I cant climb stairs without becoming short of breath. I can't exercise without having chest tightness or feeling weak and faint. The only red flag in my case was when I took Florinef aka Fludrocortisone. It actually put me into HFpEF once but I stopped taking it and when we repeated the cath with exercise my pressures were normal at rest and during exercise. So now Cleveland Clinic says I have autonomic dysfunction, not heart failure. I'm lost. It's like do I have HFpEF, do I not have HFpEF, is it dysautonomia, is it not dysautonomia? Any ideas or thoughts on this from experience? Can anyone relate? Thank you for reading my post.

So I worked 2 days for a contracter mixing cement. I got the job through a friend and was told nothing about it before starting, except that the working hours would be 8 hours.
Anyways I worked 2 days in the job and it was one of the worst I've ever had.
I had to mix cement, which requires dealing with silica dust. No PPE provided. My lungs, throat and lips were getting sore from breathing in the dust.
My hands, arms and chest got covered in cuts from moving bricks, which then got infected from the cement water.
My big toenails fell off from running around in boots all day.
The 8 hour shifts were actually 9+, my smokos were around 20 minutes and he made me give coffees to the brickies during them (no coffee bought for me btw) and on top of that he paid me per day, not per hour, which turned out to be an abysmal 230 a day , or roughly 25.5 per hour.
I would have finished the week, maybe even the next one if he needed me, but he cancelled work with me an hour before starting on Wednesday for no apparent reason (weather was fine, I think the bricks didn't arrive or something).
I messaged him after asking him if he could find somebody new (he was bragging the day before about somebody trying to get work from him but he wouldnt hire them because they were pakistani??). He just ignored me. I messaged him again asking if he got my message. His response was "see you tomorrow". If he had asked nicely I would have finished the week with him but the audacity rubbed me the wrong way and I just Ignored him.
Anyways he took 2 weeks to pay me and when he did it was only 400, not the 460 as agreed upon and he told me because I quit he had problems and that's why he's underpaying me.
It's only 60 dollars but the whole situation has just left me extremely pissed and I'm wondering is there anything I can do about it. Cheers

Hello, just wanted to ask if it’s normal to feel your throat burn during pregnancy? Im currently in my third trimester and feel this every other day since the second trimester.

A short disclaimer: I did seek medical attention for the incident I am describing below (ER and GP), but I got no explanation, so I'm just curious if anyone in here has had any similar experience.
Last Sunday, I (F27) woke up at around 4:55 AM with an extreme cramp in my left calf that lasted about 2 minutes. The pain was really intense, but I wasn't surprised at first, because the night before, we had been on a concert, so I was standing on one place for about 5 hours (and this wasn't the first time I had a leg cramp after standing for longer periods of time).
Since it was still dark in the room, I couldn't see if the leg was red or not, but I don't think any swelling was present.
I woke up my boyfriend and after firmly massaging my calf, the pain subsided. I wanted to stand up and move around a bit to help relieve the remaining tension/stiffness.
When I stood up, I felt a brief but very sharp pain in the leg calf once again, this time only for seconds. After that, I started feeling very dizzy, confused, my head felt very heavy. At first I thought this might have happened because I stood up too quickly, but the heaviness of my head, loss of balance seemed a bit too intense for a normal dizziness from standing up too quickly.
I sat down on the bed, but my head still felt heavy. I started feeling tightness in the chest. Feeling disoriented, I reach for the light switch and switch the lights on - only to realise, I cannot see literally anything (at first, I thought the lights were not working for some reason).
I start feeling shortness of breath. It felt as if I could only breathe into my throat, and no almost no air went to my lungs. I still couldn't see anything. For a short while, I honestly thought I was having a stroke and might die, but I didn't get any numbness, I was able to speak, no droopiness either.
That's when I told my boyfriend to call the ambulance.
After around 3 minutes of not seeing anything, being completely confused and hardly breathing, everything got back to normal. I realized my entire body was completely wet because I had been sweating like crazy.
The ambulance arrived an hour later, when I felt completely normal once again. The emergency worker asked me why would I call the ambulance, since I looked fine, I could walk - so I should have gone to the hospital on my own.
Anyway, In the hospital, they did my blood work, and my D-Dimer tests were only slightly elevated (0.65 mg/l). 8 hours after the incident, they did an ultrasound of my left leg, and found no signs of DVT (luckily), and I was told I could go home.
Nevertheless, I stopped taking my birth control.
The next morning, I went to my GP, had another blood test done. The D-Dimer test was still only slightly elevated, so she decided not to refer me to any further medical examinations. She said this incident could have been just a single occurence (but, of course, she told me to seek medical attention immediately if I ever have similar symptoms again). She prescribed me low-dose Aspirin.
So, I had the most frightening experience of my life, but no explanation for what it might have been. Maybe it was nothing serious - the leg cramp could have just happened because of standing for a long time, the shortness of breath could have been a strong panic attack I guess (I had never had a panic attack before, so I honestly don't know what it feels like). But still, the complete loss of vision in both eyes, and the intense feeling of confusion, dizziness and sense of doom I cannot explain.
So I guess my question is - has anyone here had a similar experience? Losing vision in both eyes? Or a leg cramp followed by the head feeling heavy? Could it be a blood clot, considering I was taking birth control?
Around a month ago, I also had an aura migraine for the first time in my life. At first, I starting seeing a blind spot in one of my eyes, which grew larger and larger, then the blind spots transitioned to the other eye, and after the blind spots went away, the headache started.

27M 5'8" 150lbs
Only prior health issue was a mucosil tumor they found in my appendix by chance while doing a colonoscopy; they took out the appendix and part of the cecum.
Current issue:
Began 2 months ago. Started as something with my chest, pains in the left side under the pec and higher on the left side, aching that'd last minutes multiple times a day. Later added smaller pains on the upper right of chest.
Went to my new primary care provider about it, they ran bloodwork and an ekg, said I had an arythmia and that my cholesterol was a little high which is weird because I'm very active. I rock climb, teach dance, lift weights, go on walks often; probably just my diet. So cut out caffeine, alcohol, sweets and red meat and they referred me to a cardiologist who said I was probably fine
THEN, a month ago, I was teaching dance and suddenly got this sinking feeling in my chest and got very weak and felt horrible, not pain, but I almost passed out.
Muscled through the lesson, then sat down for an hour to catch myself. Went home and my girlfriend came over because she was worried. That night, still feeling bad, I had this VERY weird sensation in my left arm up to my head. Not pain, but a hyperawareness of the area? It freaked me out enough to go the the ER. They watched me, gave me muscle relaxers and NSAIDs and told me I was perfectly healthy
Whatever that sinking feeling and arm-thing were, since then my chest has mostly been fine, but it began the awful part two of my symptoms
A lot of pain, frequently, in the front upper abdomin/lower chest on the left side where the ribcage is. I was layed up and the episodes started.
The episodes. I would get pain in that left front area, then I'd feel pain in my left elbow and my hand would clench up, then, my left arm muscle would get extremely tight andId get pain in my fingertips. Then very slight pain in my toes, then the same thing with my right arm; clenched hand, extreme muscled tightness that I'd have to stretch and flex out.
These episodes happened frequently, triggered randomly, or when I bent over onto my left side, and ESPECIALLY when I tried to lay down, I had to start sleeping in a recliner.
I had these episodes for two weeks, within a few days the stiffness made it to my chest. Then my neck and throat which seized up with this stiffness and made it very hard to breathe. I had to swallow and flex and stretch repeatedly to get it working again, I couldn't swallow anything but water. I got my throat free, but purposefully didn't stretch the sides of my neck as an experiment and partly out of fear that whatever was causing it might get to my brian, that stiffness lasted 3 days before I stretched it away.
These episodes hit my face, and I felt my eyes burn, not very painful just irritated; and I'm sure they got to my head but I couldn't feel that I guess.
Two weeks of these episodes, my girlfriend and I had been avoiding sex. We caved once and it had started one of my episodes, and I'd tried to spend the night but laying down caused me to wake up with all arms and legs very stiff and pretty numb.
Doctor ordered me a CT scan. Results said I'm perfectly healthy except for a fatty liver, which my dad had too I guess
Two weeks ago my girlfriend and I had sex again and after that I felt better than I had in a month and a half, literally born again, like something had dislodged in my left side where the pain had been. That spot was a little tender, still is, but I could lay down an move much more freely.
This started the third and current phase of my symptoms.
I still have the episodes, though much less painful in that front left side. But, now my arms feel like they've lost something, especially the left one where the episodes always start. I guess floppy or loose are good words? And if I lay down sometimes they still go numb, especially if I'm laying on them.
Two days ago I was at a bar with my girlfriend's friends. I tried a 0.0% alcohol beer and had some water. About an hour later my throat muscles seize up. Almost like before, but this time i can't stretch it away. I walked around for half an hour trying to stretch them out but it got worse. I told the girlfriend and she met me in the parking lot where I was struggling to breath. We drove to the ER. It resolved itself while we were waiting, came back for a second, then was gone. ER diagnosed me with Esophageal Spasms and referred me to a Gastroenterologist, waiting for Monday to call them
They told me to start tracking my food, meds, and the episodes and tightness. Started yesterday, all day I had booth the stiffness episodes and slight to moderate throat tightness that would abate and return
Neurologist and Gastroenterologist are the next moves. Every doctor, especially my primary, has said I'm perfectly fine; except for this very last ER doc who I talked to for all of 5 minutes
I'm very not fine, I'm kind of better, but I'm very worried that some serious long term shit is happening with me right now and my doctor is asleep at the wheel
Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated, thank you if you read this far, sincerely
Other facts:

• 2 years on Vyvanse for ADHD, lost access, was happily off it for months but the new primary prescribed Guanfacine, been taking that for a few weeks
  
• I've been layed up for a month, pretty sedentary, but I think I've had an increase in appetite
  
• very rarely I'll shit a bit of blood. Not in the stool, seperate. Seemingly at random, idk why, have for years
  
• Appendectomy to remove mucosil tumor, found by chance via colonoscopy
  
• lactose intolerant
  

Hi all. I'm a bi male who had two recent encounters with two other males. One was three weeks ago and the last one was 12 days ago. I am an absolute idiot. I was the insertive partner in both occasions. Of the first encounter I don't know their HIV status and of the last encounter they said they were HIV negative and on PrEP. I know the likelihood is still small in spite of my needlessly stupid risky behaviour (0.04-0.2% of contracting HIV with a HIV-positive partner if you are the top), but I can't stop shaking the idea of having HIV.
I started developing symptoms 4 days after the last encounter, which was a zit on my chest. I started spiralling thinking it is HIV, so I booked a an appointment for a HIV RNA test (14 days after first encounter, 6 days after last encounter) and it came back negative.
However, I started developing a mildly sore throat, a mild headache, got two more zits on my chest/nose and experience itchiness over my arm, legs and chest (no rash). I have no fever (37.0 with an ear thermometer). My roommates caught a cold and have sore throats as well. The zits could be acne and I notice the itchiness mainly acting up when I stress about it.
I booked a new appointment for an HIV RNA test two weeks after my last encounter, but I have such a hard time dealing with the anxiety of maybe having HIV. I also booked an appointment to test after 30 days with a combination test.
I just can't stop spiralling into the anxiety. I vow to never do stupid unsafe shit like this ever again. Especially around the stigma of having it and having to take a daily pill.

Tried a new prescription 2 days ago and since then i've had burning sensations in random parts of my body (including my groin but mostly mouth, knees, chest), and a metallic taste in my mouth. What gives?

Hi all. I'm a bi male who had two recent encounters with two other males. One was three weeks ago and the last one was 12 days ago. I am an absolute idiot. I was the insertive partner in both occasions. Of the first encounter I don't know their HIV status and of the last encounter they said they were HIV negative and on PrEP. I know the likelihood is still small in spite of my needlessly stupid risky behaviour (0.04-0.2% of contracting HIV with a HIV-positive partner if you are the top), but I can't stop shaking the idea of having HIV.
I started developing symptoms 4 days after the last encounter, which was a zit on my chest. I started spiralling thinking it is HIV, so I booked a an appointment for a HIV RNA test (14 days after first encounter, 6 days after last encounter) and it came back negative.
However, I started developing a mildly sore throat, a mild headache, got two more zits on my chest/nose and experience itchiness over my arm, legs and chest (no rash). I have no fever (37.0 with an ear thermometer). My roommates caught a cold and have sore throats as well. The zits could be acne and I notice the itchiness mainly acting up when I stress about it.
I booked a new appointment for an HIV RNA test two weeks after my last encounter, but I have such a hard time dealing with the anxiety of maybe having HIV. I also booked an appointment to test after 30 days with a combination test.
I just can't stop spiralling into the anxiety. I vow to never do stupid unsafe shit like this ever again. Especially around the stigma of having it and having to take a daily pill.

First: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/14vo5lb/troublemakers_deaths_pity/
*previous:* https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/1d3yvie/troublemakers_parabellum/
......
Go'mon stormed through the castle corridors. He'd sensed something slip beside him during his encounter with the vampire lord. It wasn't just that damned top hat with the thief's prints. No, it was more subtle than that, it was the sound of a gossamer chain rattling against cloth. He scanned every square inch of the hallways as he walked, slowly twirling the Warhammer in his off-hand as he calmly held the pistol muzzle-up towards the ceiling. He'd barely gotten a glimpse of what almost looked like mist as he stomped through the grand halls with paranoia-fueled, seething anger. Abruptly turning a corner he fired the revolver at what he thought was that pesky invisible parasite.
The shimmer shuddered and he switched to the visible spectrum to find out it was just a tapestry in front of a heating vent.
Go'mon let out an enraged scream, tearing the tapestry apart with his bare hands after casting his weapons aside in a fit of rage and impotence. The visage of Monarch D'vinn looking out from the top of a bombed-out hill in battered armor at the shattered remains of the once human-occupied city, being shredded like single-ply latrine paper by go'mon's molecularly edged cybernetic claws. Having spent his rage on the tapestry, he panted dramatically as his heart pounded in its cask. Turning around he let out another furious scream, howling madly as he scanned the hall with thermals. His Hammer and revolver had disappeared without a trace.
The sudden blare of a Klaxon made him pause as he adjusted his armor, forcing himself to calm down as he examined his molecularly edged claws. The main enemy was at the gates, he should go meet them.
...
Cassius' Heart pounded as he took shallow breaths, Go'mon's backplate inches from his own chest as he held onto the Hammer and Pistol for dear life. As the general strutted outside, Cassius moved in perfect synchronization, his left leg rising with the general's before being placed down in sync. He'd been practicing for weeks with the security droids at the mansion, practicing to keep inches from their backs without touching their metal carapace. Now he strutted behind perhaps the second most powerful being he knew like a silent specter. As Go'mon slammed through a door, breaking it into splinters, Cassius lifted his right leg and rotated out of the way just as Go'mon's tail would've brushed against his Calf, giving him away. As the General strutted out into the middle of the courtyard, Cassius used the various straps attached to his gambeson to affix the weapons to his waist before grabbing his Kama and weighted chain from a small pouch at his belt.
Cassius tossed the weighted end of the chain over the wall of the castle after a short run-up, wrapping the gossamer chain around his hands with each rapid step he took up the wall. Reaching the top, he unhooked the weight from the small bar he'd tossed it around quickly disentangling his hands from the chain. He groped the air on the outside of the wall until he touched the enchanted ladder the Top-Hats had left him. Sliding down the ladder, he spotted Drake sitting astride Barney in the middle of the street. The rest were nowhere to be seen but that indeed was part of the plan. Sprinting over, Cassius leaped onto Barney behind Drake and slipped Go'mon's revolver into the empty holster at his belt. Drawing out no reaction save for a few words from Drake, who didn't turn his head lest he give the gambit away.
"Good work Cassius, Fall back and get a gas mask on. We still don't know what's in those canisters because they inked out the labels."
Cassius slipped off of Barney's back and slipped into a nearby building before De-cloaking as he pressed himself against the wall next to a Warmonger who passed him a spare gas mask. He pulled it on and checked the seal before sitting against the wall as his legs jellied beneath him. His mouth was dryer than the scrubland as he accepted a Volunteer's canteen, drinking heavily through a port in the mask as he rode out the adrenaline crash. He glanced over to where their fighters had pried open a sewer access hatch and were dropping in, the smell of sewage souring the air. A few warmongers closest to the opening had comically attached wooden clothesline clips to their noses.
...
Caz lay atop the second-tallest building in Golgatha, trash and debris piled up around her for camouflage ash she drew a bead on the strutting Go'mon. Her god-given eyes were able to see the purple miasma that rose from him like mercury vapors. She didn't even turn her head as she softly asked.
"Distance?"
The man with Heavy cybernetic augmentations pulled casually from a large pouch of grain alcohol, camera-lense eyes extending from his face as he chewed on a bullet thoughtfully. Slowly he stated.
"One thousand five hundred and sixty-seven meters, If you're keeping it under auto-ignition velocity, you should be able to hold it one mil above and..."
The sound of the bullet in his mouth getting chewed filled the air before he stated.
"Two mils right, wind fluctuates between us and the target, expect a half minute of angle deviation."
Caz adjusted her optic, bringing the point of aim directly onto her crosshairs. The man next to her had called himself "an Olympian" an old sect of bionically enhanced warriors from even before the betrayal wars. In the small amount of time she'd gotten to know the man, she'd found him palatable at the very least, soft-spoken with a touch of crazy, it was refreshing. She tried to ignore the artillery-sized rifle he laid behind, the barrel itself bigger around than a drainage pipe, a suppressor of equally massive size almost protruding over the edge of the building. She watched from the corner of his eye as he pulled the breech open to the side and selected a shell thicker and longer than her forearm with a fused tip. He rammed it into the gun with the same ease she loaded her flechettes with.
They both had different jobs despite sitting on the same roof. She'd take care of anything on two legs, and he'd handle anything that had an armored skin. From her vantage point, she watched as the Agri-bots moved into position, planting their artillery pieces against the ground in preparation to fire. They weren't using High explosives much to Remin and Destrier's chagrin, but with their attack plan, they couldn't risk collapsing the sewers. They were instead armed with a chemical weapon known as "CS Smoke" which would obscure visual sightlines for anyone with unaugmented vision. Lucky for her and the Olympian, that wouldn't be an issue with her clear-sight and his advanced optics. She slowly swiveled her focus onto Drake, keeping the center of the crosshair off him as she watched him.
Sitting astride Barney, Drake looked every bit the warrior he was. His dark helmet and armor were almost lost in the dark night. But the red shock of his Helm's mohawk could not be mistaken, glowing brightly against the darkness. As his palm came to rest on the pommel of his sword, she saw something entirely different for a moment.
A warrior in battered, rusty armor, the flesh falling from his bones as a pair of white lights gleamed behind the helmet. A skeletal hand held a rusty sword in its sheath, Its pale, emaciated steed's head hanging low, milky eyes soulless and empty.
But as soon as she saw it, the image faded and she swiveled her crosshairs onto the castle's inner courtyard. A small, dim red light blinked on the side of the Olympian's skull as the Geknosians organized into fighting lines. Hulking Geknosians in overbuilt power armor manned emplaced turrets and the looming Gas generators. A small feed from the Olympian's perspective overlaid itself on her scope before minimizing to one corner. She watched as his crosshair fell onto one of the two Gallicks. The horseshoe-shaped APCs presenting their bulk to the gate as a bulwark. Caz switched her aim to a heavily armored Geknosian, slowly dialing the small wheel on the forend of her rifle to half-power, just under auto-ignition velocity. The geknosian seemed to get uncomfortable as her crosshairs landed on his chest, fidgeting at the controls of their AA plasma Beam-cannon.
The moment the Agri-bots fired their artillery, she'd remove him from the gene pool and take that AA gun out of the fight so Destrier could get into position.
...
Destrier and Remin ran last-minute checks on the small fleet of two-wheeled land vehicles the Top Hats had called "Dirt bikes." The variable electric powerplant produced little to no noise, even now, powered on and ready to roll they didn't even humm. Stepping back, Destrier let the forearms of his power armor clamshell close as he retook the hand controls. Contrary to popular belief, the hands of power armor weren't at all like gloves. A handle with a pressure sensor for each finger was clasped in his hands, allowing him to manipulate the hands of the armor like his own. Destrier turned his head, helmet whirring on its bearing as he watched Remin mount one of the Dirtbikes, the black scimitar strapped to the suspension of the bike within arm's reach. The old man's Mongolian lamellar draped over either side of the bike like fabric, small metal plates clinking and clattering softly as he pulled his fabric-wrapped helmet back on. Destrier clomped over, hardly noticing the backpack with over two hundred rounds of 13x110 mm HEP.
Remin looked up with a grin and met Destrier's arm halfway in a forearm-gripping handshake, their metal hands clanking together as they slid their arms back into a grip around the base of each other's thumbs, then to a normal handshake before waggling their fingers at each other.
Destrier chuckled softly and looked up at the sky, night vision lenses making it appear stuffed to bursting with stars.
"What's on the black samurai's mind?"
Remin asked softly, head tilted back to also look at the stars between the rooftops.
"Well... I'm looking forward to the fighting to finally being over... Maybe I'll finally be able to settle down and invent something with Martha..."
Remin chuckled softly.
"A noble goal... I'd expect nothing less from you Destri... I'm actually hoping to catch a ride back to human-controlled space. I'm too old for this shit, I want to settle down and live out the last years of my life in peace..."
Destrier nodded in agreement, slowly turning his gaze back to the helicopter, blades slowly turning in preparation for takeoff.
"How old are you Remin? I don't think I ever asked."
The old man paused, thinking for a long time.
"Oh... I'd say I've made it past a century at this point. Got a cybernetic heart when I was a kid thanks to a car accident, Ol' things been keeping me going far past when I shoulda dropped."
Destrier nods and laughs softly.
"Damn, and I thought you were only in your fifties."
Remin laughed in agreeance, setting his hands on the handlebars.
"I don't blame ya, I feel like it. Especially now that my legs aren't filled with creaky arthritis."
Destrier sighed softly, gently punching the old man's shoulder as softly as he could in his power armor.
"See you on the other side old man... whether that be the living side or the dead one."
"Here's to hoping it's the former not the latter."
Destrier chuckled his agreement and boarded the helicopter, making the landing gear compress slightly as he put his weight on the flight deck. Unhooking the feed chain from the side of the backpack, he clipped it into the Ma-deuce's feed chute. It whirred as the heavy cartridges were funneled down the chain and into the gun with a click and a clatter.
...
Barney shifted from one leg to the other beneath Drake, Death's chosen reaching down and gently patting his neck fondly as he softly whispered.
"Just a moment longer boy... There's someone I need to talk to."
Drake closed his eyes, letting the Darkness envelop him for a moment before opening them again.
He looked at Death, who was casually swirling a glass of black bourbon thoughtfully.
"You said you wanted to talk to me right before the battle?"
Death nodded and slid the glass of black bourbon his way.
"I did, I want you to drink this before you go into battle."
Drake picked up the glass, inspecting the pitch-black, inky liquid curiously. Before sniffing it and coughing as his eyes water.
"No offense, But I think something died in your liquor bottle."
Death laughed jovially, pouring his own glass from a red crystal decanter.
"That's because this is made from the blood of my predecessor. I thought i might as well get it out of the way."
Drake suspiciously looked at the glass.
"Okay, what happens when I drink it?"
Death paused, slowly swirling his own glass of black bourbon pensively. Then, he slowly knocked his own back, eyes dilating wide before returning to normal.
"Well, It should allow you to control your power, bypassing the decades of training most need."
Drake gave Death a side eye, sniffing the foul drink one more time asking.
"What's the catch?"
Death frowned, then set his glass down.
"Considering that it's going to completely restructure your magical and circulatory pathways. It's going to hurt like nothing you've ever felt before. It also may or may not bind your guardians to your soul."
Drake's head snapped up.
"Guardians... you mean my parents?"
Death nodded softly.
"Guardians, souls that loved someone so much that they remained on after death to watch over them. Your parents loved you... loved you enough to stand by your side even in death... and before you give me some bullshit about this not being what your parents would want... Remember, they'll always be at your side until you die one way or another."
Drake slowly swirled the bourbon before nodding softly, bringing it to his lips, he downed it in a single gulp. It burned on its way down, the tingling feeling intensely spreading throughout his body and to his fingertips in a moment. His nerves burned, and his very being felt as though it was being scalded by burning hot water. But as he set the glass down on Death's desk, he smiled softly. There was a warmth to the pain, like a cold rag against a feverish forehead. The sting of a garlic poultice applied to a fresh whip-wound. It was the crack of his father's wooden sword against his knuckles during their sparring, the sweat that would drip into his eyes on long evenings working the fields. Drake opened his eyes slowly, no longer sitting in Death's office, but his own soulscape, looking at the long-neglected buildings halfway through construction. But he wasn't alone.
Drake smiled at his mother and father. His mother gave him a soft smile as she touched the scar across his face, the wound in his cheek where a gauss slug had torn it open, then, she took his hand to gently touch the scarred wound where Garravan's knife had pierced his hand. His father just sat cross-legged, drinking a stout mug of scrub tree tea with a proud smile on his face. drake looked between them before holding out his hands.
As his parents took them, they dissolved into motes of light that drifted into his chest. His veins burned, and his eyes and nose bled. His entire existence felt like a blistering inferno as the ground of his soulscape rumbled, small, red flowers the color of blood and the shape of gunshot wounds popping up from the ground. But even as the pain grew, and grew, and grew, He found himself simply laughing, grabbing what felt like an invisible pair of chains and pulling up on them as he stood.
The ground erupted in the middle of his soulscape, a massive, gnarled oak tree sprouting from the ground. Its sturdy trunk protecting a small patch of pink carnations interspersed with curly-petaled white Gardenias. Drake felt something form atop his head and reached up, feeling a thorny crown, he gently pulled it off, looking at the black-petaled roses fondly before returning it to his head. The thorny veins grew down from the crown, snaking their way deep into his flesh only to bloom into what felt like new muscles and tendons that weren't attached to his physical strength. Looking at his upturned palms, he curled his fingers, a steady, smokeless pale flame popping into existence in his palm with next to no effort.
As the pain subsided, Drake closed his eyes, relishing its departure before opening them to the shocked and concerned face of Death. Drake gave him a curious look and Death coughed softly as he composed himself before speaking.
"Look, I know I can hide pain well... But that smile you get when you're hurting is capital C Creepy."
Drake touched his grinning face with a soft laugh, wiping a trickle of blood from his nose.
"Well, guess I can add that to my achievements list, Creeping Death out with a smile."
They both chuckled softly at the joke before Death sighed softly.
"You should get back to them, they're almost ready."
Drake nodded and stood, stepping over to the door.
"Wish me luck."
"Good luck, my Champion. Give them hell."
Drake smiled softly and stepped out the door. When he opened his eyes, he was back in the real world, staring up at Go'mon who'd perched himself atop the castle wall, eyeing Drake hungrily.
Giving Go'mon his signature grin, He reached up and depressed a countersunk button on the side of his helmet.
"Hit 'em"
Drake stated, the sound of artillery rocking the city as Go'mon's hungry look quickly turned to rage. There was a loud, screeching whistle as the artillery shells streaked in, blanketing the area in stinging fog. Drake drew his sword, extending thorned vines of power into it as the blade ignited with pale flames. Barney snuffled excitedly and roared as Drake nudged him forward, the Dinosaur leaping over the wall in a single bound. The final battle for Golgatha had begun, after this, they would either be free...
Or they will have died free.
......
Part 112: will be linked here upon completion.

I can’t really remember how old I was, maybe 12 or 13, but I was at my aunts house for the weekend. And me and my big group of cousins (who were around my same age, some a little older, some younger) took our regular trip to the park inside my aunts neighborhood. After maybe a half hour to an hour being there, we were in the middle of playing a game of “the floor is lava” on the park set, I realized less and less of my cousins were playing the game and it was more neighborhood kids that I was playing with instead.
After a few more minutes pass one of my cousins start calling me over to the wall he was sitting on. He was telling me to come look at something as he was facing the direction of the backyard he was looking into; I get to the wall and look over and the first thing I notice is majority of my cousins and some neighborhoods kids were already over there, and the second thing I notice is this lifeless burned body that they were standing around and it was still smoking a little (almost like it happened not too long before we found it). I hopped all the way over the wall and walked over there and immediately started asking what happened (not in a panicked manner but more so very subtle and in awe), everybody is saying they don’t know and since I was one of the last to walk over there I started to ask them if they did it but they immediately said no of course lol.
Since we were all so young it was such an unserious moment for us, and it was something we weren’t supposed to be witnessing at all at that age. But given that, we started saying that it wasn’t a real body, and one of my cousins went as far as dropping a brick on the stomach to further examine if it was a real body. After he did that I did a further look at the face and chest area…that was indeed a real body.
After a few more minutes being back there one of the neighborhood kids shouted over to us “hey the back door is open!.” And knowing what type of time my cousins were on they followed him inside the house with zero questions asked. I stayed behind for a little still looking at the body a little longer but I eventually followed them inside the house. I don’t know if they took anything but I remember standing in the middle of the this living room just looking at all these kids just rummaging through stuff and feeling wrong about the whole thing. And this feeling that something (spiritually) was there with us, it was a very heavy feeling that wouldn’t leave until the moment I left back out the house.
We ended up going straight back to my aunts house after, and we all ran in the house just blurting out what happened all at once. And after she was able to calm us all down we finally let her know what happened. It was such a crazy thing to happen to us all, I think I remember some of the neighborhood kids following us back and helped us explain the story and some of them my aunt NEVER met but this event brought them to her.
Later that day (maybe 2 or 3 hours later), we walked back to the house and the police and NEWS people were there and the street that the house was on was cut off. Only thing we were thinking about though was the NEWS being there so we ran back to my aunts and turned on the NEWS channel to see if they knew what happened (and also to see if they found little kid fingerprints everywhere lmao). Supposedly someone originally reported a house fire, but they got there to discover it was body still smoking in the backyard, after getting in contact with friends and family they also discovered they had went missing some days before that, which ultimately helped them rule it a sicide. Which never really sat well with me, because the back door being open, the body being burned in the back yard…like nothing screamed sicide to me, at least not at that age of understanding.
Another key thing that helped me remember this traumatic experience was when we went to sleep that night, we all slept in the living room (me and my cousins) and one of my older cousins woke up crying in the middle of the night and her mom (my aunt) comforted her and let her know it would be okay. Versus when I was finally able to open up to my mom about it after coming back home and being pretty creeped out and broken by it, she told me straight up “it’s your fault because you shouldn’t have been in peoples back yards”…I’m not gonna say I hated my mom or anything after that but since that day I’ve saw her in a different light for sure.
Another thing that bothers me is this very brief article that answered none of the thousand questions going through my head as I was witnessing was I witnessing in that moment:
https://www.reviewjournal.com/crime/courts/police-investigate-burned-body-found-in-las-vegas-backyard/amp/

I posted this in the CFS sub, but I read here sometimes, in case anyone has any improvements themselves or to learn what worked for people.
I'm not claiming to have long-covid, but I do have ME/CFS, which I think many people do have here so I'm posting it here too for those people. I had no gut related issues / I have no experience with pain or neuropathy or any other long covid symptoms that are not ME/CFS.
Given that my situation and the situation of many people here are pretty much the same, I'm sure there's some benefit to posting. After all, I sometimes gain from reading posts here.
22M
Slow onset, which started hardly noticable when i was 20 years old. Came on over the span of 6 + months. At the time, I was exercising 15 hrs / week, working 40 hrs / week and doing a degree at the same time. It's possible my body accumulated so much stress that it just shut down, and that onset my CFS. I believe I had a preventable case if it was caught early, something 1 - 3 months of rest could've corrected, but I was experiencing some form of symptoms for almost a year before I recieved a diagnosis and by then it was far too late.
I read this subreddit a lot, mainly looking for recovery information more than anything. Sometimes I comment, but I never post, so I may aswell join in.
I've heard many things out there, that if I prevent crashing, I actually have a good shot at recovery or improvement. One thing for sure, is that the PEM keeps you in it, or can even make you worse. So what if I just stay perfectly within my energy envelope?
Of course, that's easier said than done, it's not an easy task to perfectly avoid PEM, it requires a strict adherence to many things, and not much room for error.
Back in the middle of February 2024, I set out on a mission to do exactly this. My goal is to go 1 year straight without PEM, and to see if I can regain my life back.
I believe I'm milder than many people here, but hopefully my personal experience can induce some thoughts in people here. Any hope is good, after all.
A full history of my symptoms, from my worse days probably last summer, to now are as follows. (some not present anymore, some only in PEM.)
Fatigue Insomnia (I went up to 3 days at a time unable to sleep) Brain Fog Muscle Weakness Breathlessness Headaches Sore Throat POTS Tarchadyia after eating Carbohydrates Dizzyness Light-headedness Tightness of the chest / unable to take a full deep breath Night sweats / constantly hot Wired feeling / inability to relax Sexual Dysfunction (If someone else suffers from ED please tell me because nobody talks about it, it can't just be me)
My starting baseline at the start of the year, in which I had to do to avoid PEM was as follows: 16 hours laying down / in bed to some degree, ~ 3000 steps per day. Unable to work, university from home. Although if I ate particularly garbage food it could be even less than that.
4 months later, avoiding PEM completely:
Today, 11,500 steps, 8 - 9 hours a day in bed. Regular sleeping pattern. Still doing university from home, no work. At baseline, I feel 80% - 90% normal. I tire out quite easily still, and if I do activity too close to bedtime, eat too close to bed time or break from my strict schedule, I can tell. I'm still far from being able to do what I want. I can't be careless at all.
My number one pacing tool without a doubt is my Garmin watch. It's scary how accurate it has been for me at avoiding PEM, and without this, I don't think I could have done it so perfectly.
The changes I made in my life, which has reduced the stress on my body, and improved my HRV according to my Garmin was:
Building my life around sleep. Sleep is the priority. I sleep at the same time every night, no exceptions. Blue-light glasses No technology within 1 hour before bed time Vagus nerve stimulation before bed with TENS device, basically some cheap bootleg neurosym because I can't afford neurosym. 1 hour of stretching each night Not eating at least 3 hours before bed, but generally the further i eat from bedtime, the deeper the rest I get. Keto diet, my body handles carbohydrates so terribly that this was a gamechanger. Acupressure mat Keeping my room as cold as possible I tried ice baths, which at first made me crash. Now I can use them without a crash, but they suck to get in and im not sure how big the benefit is. I think there is some, but perhaps I'll use it again in the future.
All of these things have one common goal, which is to maximise my parasympathetic nervous system, and give me as deep of a rest as possible. It's been very successful so far.
Medications & Supplements I use:
Diphenhydramine 50mg, which I use sparingly for sleep. If I'm concerned a crash is coming or some insomnia develops, I use this. It's addictive and not meant for long-term use so I can't use it all the time. I've dodged some PEM episodes with this though i'm 100% sure of that. It definitely works.
The most impactful:
Magensium Fish Oil for Omega 3s Ashwagandha Vitamin D
Secondary (Not sure how well these work, but I'm using it anyways): Vitamin B12 Vitamin C High Dose Vitamin B1
I was going to wait either 6 months or one year to make a post like this, but I may aswell make it now.
I know this improvement isn't just some luck, because before I stopped getting PEM, and made these changes, I was actually getting progressively worse over time. So this last 4 months is the first time I've actually changed my trajectory.
Any questions below are welcome.

Hey all,
I wanted to share my personal experiences with what I believe are hypnagogic hallucinations, to see if any others have experienced similar phenomena and, if so, if they had any theories.
Quick backstory-- I've been someone who's been prone to night terrors for most of his life. Growing up, a very sizeable chunk of my dreams would become nightmares. Sleep paralysis was a pretty consistent thing for me back then.
As an adult, my dream recall is pretty decent, though most of my dreams are just weird, rather than nightmarish. I'm an adult diagnosed with OCD, and I've taken SSRIs and other medications in the past, though I'm pretty stable now and am no longer on anything.
Onto to the hypnagogic hallucinations!
Basically, I can consistently make these come about at night if I'd like--and I almost feel like anyone can? (Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself there).
Meaning, if I lie down at night, and stay relatively still, and focus on my breath (ex. more or less, do what most people's definition of "meditation" is, eyes closed, focused on breath, quieting the mind), eventually, a few things will start happening:

• I will start feeling more and more 'static' in my body, for lack of a better word. It's hard to say this in any technical ways, so I will merely try to describe the feeling. As I focus on the process of falling asleep, the 'energy' in my body will almost feel a bit more palpable, a bit fuzzier, and this will eventually escalate until I can feel a lot of fuzziness in my body.
  
• As this escalates, I will feel/hear what I can best describe as like, 25ish (if not more) concurrent conversations happening. It'll feel like my body is a radio, and these conversations are running through it. Another analogy would be like, I'm hearing a bunch of different voices in my head, but it's not like they're speaking to me. Rather, they're just speaking and I can hear them. As if I'm listening in on 50 different conversations or something. This will often feel uncomfortable and weird and unsettling? And it'll usually be paired with the escalation of the fuzziness/static in my body. If I stay in the space, it usually just escalates and gets more uncomfortable.
  
• Somewhere throughout this process, I may feel a presence near me, or in the backyard. The presence will seem malevolent.
  

And from there, a number of things usually happen:
1) I will get out of bed, and then try to go back to sleep later, ideally trying to avoid restarting these hypnagogic hallucinations.
2) I will fall asleep, and the dreams will be nightmares. Often, a string of different nightmares, and this headspace/feeling will maintain throughout. The nightmares will often include things like false awakenings, or even entail me being in my room, thinking I'm awake, but going through various nightmarish things (ex. one of the strangest ones I can remember was like, the sound of a very loud drumkit in the backyard and me knowing there was a powerful negative entity outside--it sounds silly writing it out this way but in the moment it was actually unbelievably uncomfortable, scary, and palpable for lack of a better term).
3) I will try to 'sit' through the hypnagogic hallucination, to see what happens. Often, it'll just stay uncomfortable for a while, with the fuzziness/energy getting more and more large and uncomfortable, the sensations in my body feeling weird, the audio intensifying, nightmarish feelings intensifying, often feeling like weird uncomfortable energetic swirls in my body. It's hard to pinpoint where I feel them the most in my body, but likely chest and back -- literally as I'm typing this, there is a deep uncomfortable feeling crawling up my upper back.
So yeah, that's all the material I have right now about my experiences.
From here, I don't really have any grand theories or life interpretations to tie this into. I'm pretty agnostic about just about everything, don't really have any prevailing beliefs about what this all is--nothing too concrete spiritually or religiously.
I am very interested in the truth. And I think these experiences are weird.
And I think that even the most monistic, hyper-logical, fully grounded in the 3D person (a headspace I embody often) would probably ask themselves the same question I ask myself: why the fuck does the human body induce these experiences? Like, it's such a bizarre thing.
It definitely gives me some general discomfort on the idea of 'what this all is', and certainly I'd love to know if anything I've mentioned above has parallels with anyone else who has experienced hypnagogic hallucinations.

I (21 F) and my sister (23 F) have never had any issues until last week. She and her husband (23 M) had invited me over for a lunch, which is normal for us.
I have a severe shellfish allergy, even touching it makes me extremely itchy, my sister is completely aware of this and has been since we were children.
When I got to their house she said that food was already finished and in the fridge, she claimed that it was just a tuna pasta (yes, I can eat tuna, an many other fish, just nothing with a shell).
After she finished cleaning up we had a short conversation about what’s been happening in our lives since it had been a while since we’d seen each other. I got this strange feeling from her but just brushed it off as I was extremely tired that day.
She grabbed the food out of the fridge and served it for me, giving me a small bowl “in case I don’t like it”.
I couldn’t smell much of it, and from what I could smell I just assumed it was fish, but when I took a bite I almost immediately felt my throat burning.
I was coughing and grabbing at my throat, and her husband kept asking me if I was choking.
My sister turned to me panicking and saying “I thought you were exaggerating!!”
An ambulance was called and i was rushed to the hospital, i was thankfully okay but they had made me stay to be monitored for nest two days.
My sister and BIL had tried to visit me but I told her to get out. She kept apologising and refusing to leave. I told her that I’ll be calling the police on her for what she’d done, as it’s literally attempted murder, and she lost it.
She kept screaming at me saying “I know you’re faking this, you always act like you’re allergic to shellfish so I wanted to test you!” Id been pressing the call button for the nurse but they heard her regardless and had asked me if I wanted them removed. I said yes.
I explained the whole situation to her and the hospital security and eventually decided that with the help of the nurse and security guards I’d file a report against her.
My mother is saying I’m overreacting and that I should have just cut contact, but I don’t know anymore. AITA?
EDIT: to everyone saying anything about medical bills I have free healthcare in my country, so there’s nothing I could do about that.

About 2 years ago during Covid I had to say goodbye to my pet mouse. I had 2, one passed a year earlier from a tumour. But this time felt harder. I apologise but this might be long.
If anyone has experienced saying goodbye to a pet, there is a feeling you may get when you just know it's the right time to make that decision. It's a hard decision, choosing to end the life of another living creature, but you know that it is to end any pain or suffering they may be in due to a state of illness or age (mobility etc).
Mice are prone to tumours, and 99% of the time they will be malignant. During the time of which my mouse's wellbeing was declining, I was in my 3rd year of a deeply mentally crippling job that has resulted in diagnosed PTSD still 3 years later (I left the job 6 months after the incident). A hard conflict I had with my boss was that I was incredibly scared of calling in sick, there is more behind this but it's a whole trauma dump.
I came to a decision to ring the vet and select a date to say goodbye, it didn't feel right but it was my only day off in the week that I could go and say goodbye. My partner and I went in with my mouse and I expressed my worries with the vet, she said she had a slight heart murmur and that I could take her home and come back in 2 days to spend more time with her but that I should say goodbye that week.
I wish that I didn't feel so manipulated and controlled by my boss and work that I could have just rung and taken the day off, to spend more time with my beautiful little mouse. I knew the time didn't feel right but I said no. And because it was Covid, we had to stay in my car while they took her inside to let her cross the rainbow bridge. That felt so much worse because I couldn't go with her.
Since then, I have had so much gut wrenching guilt, that I couldn't spend 2 more days with her. Just two more days. It physically hurts, my heart, my chest and that pulsing lump in my throat when I think about it.
After a few months of solid depression, I went on antidepressants and have been going to specialised grief counselling.
It has been over 2 years and this grief and guilt still haunts me. Of course I've talked about this with my therapist, but sometimes it's still so hard to cope with.

I find it hard to know when I should go to back to work or not. I was diagnosed with asthma 3 months ago and now I had flu. I'm feeling pretty ok (no sore throat anymore) but my chest feel tight. I mean like this can continue weeks as I read?

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It had been a few weeks since Altier was brought to the run-down shack that his black-scaled companion likely called home, and he could now comfortably say he was accustomed to the…household’s routine. The kobold typically left at the crack of dawn, returned a little after noon, and occasionally left again to forage until nightfall. When the weather was bad or there wasn’t a particular need for something, they half-heartedly chased their rabbit around for a bit, which usually ended with a bout of quiet petting while everyone got ready for the night. It was always amusing to see the energetic side of what he had come to know as a relatively lazy loaf of an animal. As for the routine of the ferrorabbit in question… Well…it was at least more interesting than expected.
Hoppit would begin his own series of activities as soon as his caretaker left—the first of which being a check of every nook and cranny in the shed. He sniffed at anything that caught his interest, varying from morning to morning, but he gave every object or corner its due attention. Once he was satisfied with that, he would eat some of the ragged plants that made up most of his diet, take a drink from his bowl, then jump onto the tro— table and plop himself down, his ears pivoting towards the door. It was hard to say if the lounging spot had been established before Altier’s arrival, but it was somewhat amusing to pretend that the little rabbit was standing guard over his core—if it wasn’t for one particular part of the morning ritual, that is.
Indeed, the ferrorabbit had a habit of licking the obsidian orb that sat in the middle of the room, which thankfully didn’t seem to perturb the system enough to give Altier a headache. He was confused when it first happened, but it was commonplace enough now that he barely acknowledged it. A part of him liked that he was getting attention as a core, even if it was delivered via a strange grooming method. The closest he got to being acknowledged as something other than ‘the dungeon’ was through an unfortunate misunderstanding that he could never properly rectify. He supposed that was hardly worth thinking about now, though; too much time had passed for there to be anyone left to correct. The little oddity of his mornings would have to suffice.
There wasn’t much to comment on as far as the rest of the day’s happenings. Hoppit would end his loafing by shaking his head and ears in a way that filled the silence with soft clacks, give the core a customary tongue bath, then jump off the table to nose his way out of the shed through a hole that was hidden by the storage cart against the wall. Where the rabbit went was anyone’s guess, but he always returned before anyone noticed he was gone, and often did so while covered in small cuts and scratches. Any blood from the lacerations was quickly licked off before it could be seen by the kobold, and in the event that the scaly caretaker happened to return earlier than expected, Hoppit would scurry over to the bundles of blankets to finish the cleanup in secret.
Today looked to be following the usual pattern. The kobold left bright and early with various gardening tools and a wooden pail, and Hoppit had since set off into the great unknown for one reason or another. Hopefully, he returned less injured than usual. It was frustrating to admit that Altier had begun to grow rather fond of the fluffy creature, and seeing the thing come back hurt was bothersome. Was it off looking for food? There wasn’t a whole lot given to it, so that was a possibility, and it could be getting into fights over whatever it found. That still didn’t explain why the animal was so thin, and Altier didn’t have enough to go off of to think of a potential solution. He wanted to help it in some way, like by summoning a creature to act as an escort, or maybe just by manifesting something edible like he once could. No, he could only stare at the ‘Synchronizing…’ that occupied his menu, wishing he had more information to work with.
He never thought he would miss the bombardment of notifications and their lingering presence that filled the edge of his mental vision; at least with that he could surmise enough to hazard some kind of action. Even knowing why the menu was acting the way it did would be a start. Yet, try as he might, there wasn’t a history for him to reference anymore, and he had nothing to work with. He was confident the last message had asked him to ‘accept’ something, then took his befuddled ponderance as an answer, but he was no closer to an explanation for what it wanted, nor why it prompted him in the first place. He just didn’t have another experience to compare against, since nothing like that had ever happened before. Not that he was ever in much of a position to allow it.
The entire purpose of having Altier inhabit a core was for him to become a dungeon of Decay, which entailed all the skeletons, poisons, acids, and whatever else came to mind when one pictured the concept. ‘Living’ creatures were something he only had the chance to experiment with near the beginning of his new existence, though he never dabbled past the first few insects before transitioning to the mindless undead. Having a thinking, feeling, breathing entity touch his core was a rite reserved only for the adventurers and soldiers that bested his trials, and that was usually a painful experience. Now, he had spent what he could only guess was hours being held by a kobold, followed by having a rabbit bump against him, and neither felt like what he came to expect. Instead, both had led to a completely novel reaction from the system. The strange circumstances put him at a bit of a loss as to what it all meant for him.
Sure, he could dismiss the deluge of errors from his companion’s involvement by pointing to the numerous ‘corrupted’ messages before it, and Hoppit was a part of mostly unexplored territory, but the lack of clarity nagged at the back of his mind constantly. Being exposed to activity after potential decades or centuries of unchanging solitude made him despise the informational dead end. If he couldn’t make sense of the rabbit’s circumstances, then he didn’t have much hope of deciphering the reason for why his system was misbehaving so terribly. He also didn't know much about the one who owned the decrepit holdings he was housed inside.
He still wasn’t sure what drove the kobold to take him from the cave. His suspicion of becoming traded goods fell flat after the first week or so, and he hadn’t noticed any cult-like behaviour, which was promising. Granted, a lack of nefarious behaviour didn’t mean there was a lack of nefarious intent, but he didn’t get the impression his companion held that either. The kobold itself didn’t seem quite settled on an opinion of his core, though it was up for debate if the hesitation was due to knowing what he was or not. They seemed to mull something over before bed each night, yet never reached a satisfactory conclusion, staring at the obsidian orb through weary grey eyes until they eventually forced themselves into sleep.
Whatever the underlying reasoning for his abduction was, he had observed enough to know that the kobold didn’t deserve to live in destitution. As beaten as the shed might be, they cared for it as best they could, and did so without a single groan or grimace of complaint. The floors were cleaned with a tattered rag and fresh water, dust was removed regularly, and any stray mess that Hoppit made was dealt with promptly. They even took the time to wipe off his core, which was possibly where the ferrorabbit got the idea to start licking him. The only time Altier had seen discontent from the kobold was when they didn’t find much during their foraging, and thus couldn’t give any treats to the excited and bouncy herbivore.
He wasn’t aware that a creature’s face could make such a painfully broken expression, and he was quick to decide that he never wanted to see it again.
Vexingly, his metaphorical hands were tied; a dungeon could only influence their Domain, and given the state of his system, not even that option was available to him. All he could do was glare at the rotting wooden beams that held up the roof and remember when such an issue didn’t exist. It would have taken a mere flicker of thought and a paltry sum of mana to mend the struts when he was a proper dungeon. He could even outright reinforce the structure by weaving in other materials, leaving the appearance as it was while making everything stronger than iron. Well, he once could. Working with other affinities was something that came to him after absorbing the coloured motes left behind by adventurers, and the accursed stone that stole his mana had taken that ability as well.
An attempt was made anyway, his will ordering the deteriorated wood to absorb any trace metals from the ground, but it was no use. He couldn’t feel the iron or stones beneath the shed like he would have been able to before, all but confirming his suspicion that his connection to the Earth element had slipped away. Nature was much the same; the only way he knew when Hoppit had returned most days was from the subtle noise and the essence of injury. The other attributes—Air, Flame, Luma, Shadow, and so on—were ones he never experimented with to any real extent, so it was less noticeable when he lost his grasp on them. Perhaps they faded early. Either way, all he had left was a waning cognizance of his own alignment, and that wasn’t of much use to him. If he had any appreciable mana income, then perhaps he could do something, but he wasn’t even sure what the upkeep of his current Domain might be. It was entirely possible that he was running on a deficit, which would offer a reason for why his system had been so—
[Do#$@n Ex@#d$%^&d! CRe@#r H-H-H-HoPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP—]
[Errrrrrr—]
[Sy$%^hroni%^$zing…]
[Creeee-tu— Hoppit ha@$ esttttb-hed terrrrrrr-ity f^#% t$e dun@&$n!]
- - - - -
“Well then,” he mumbled to himself, taking in the strange scene behind the shed. For one, he could actually view a small distance beyond the structure now, and two, there was a rather proud-looking Hoppit sitting on his haunches before a pair of significantly less prideful examples of the species. They looked quite a bit bigger than the lazy loaf Altier had come to know, yet they were more cut up and dejected than his furry friend. That answered where the injuries had been coming from, he supposed. Hoppit was probably running off to bash heads with whatever animal population existed here beforehand, and they had only just reached a consensus on who was in charge. Impressive.
One of Hoppit’s ears turned back towards the shed, his head following suit as he gave a lagomorph’s approximation of a ‘Look what I did!’ smile. Altier blanked out mentally, but didn’t have time to question anything before the new leader of the local rabbits imperiously pointed a paw towards the surrounding forest, which was equally surreal to witness. Most surprising of all, the…subordinates? The other ferrorabbits did as commanded, keeping their forms small as they took off into the foliage. Soft clacks came from Hoppit’s pleased shake of his head, then he too left the area with only a slightly lopsided bounce to his stride.
The man-turned-core could only gape at what he saw. Were animals always so…expressive? Had Hoppit heard him? What in the world was happening? Why had Hoppit’s personal conquest led to Altier’s Domain expanding?
He lamented not having fingers, nor temples to rub with them. His system was a garbled mess of errors and inconsistent messages, his residence was falling apart at the seams, his companion was someone who abducted him from the dungeon, yet never did anything past that, and his first real experience with an animal was turning out to be more confusing than he thought possible.
All of this was after an unknown amount of time spent commanding legions of undead to strengthen the very people who he would later learn had lied to and manipulated him, making him into a nightmarish entity just to bolster the power of their forces. He almost missed the days spent gazing out of a mossy window. At least then he knew what to expect.
Nothing made sense anymore.
= = = = =
The soft sound of roots ripping free from soil suddenly stopped, only to be followed by a dull thud of Ceele’s palm slapping against the ground to catch her fall before she landed on her rear. She righted herself with her tail and tossed the stubborn weed into a pile with the others. No matter how many mornings she did this, they always seemed to replace themselves faster than she could remove the pesky things. A sigh slipped from her muzzle as she set about grabbing the next one embedded in the vegetable garden.
Aches and spreading stiffness flared up, but went ignored as she neared the end of her duties, though she was well aware that they would come back with force once she tried to settle down for the day. The impending soreness was an inevitable byproduct of spending so much time working. Still, she knew that if it wasn’t for the kindly old couple that allowed her to call their shed home, she would still be sleeping beneath the stars while making sure nothing tried to get at her Hoppit. Even if it was just a part of the deal, they were owed this much in return, and she would see it done properly.
The sun bore down on her back as she did her usual tasks, which was a departure from the slightly overcast weather as of late. It looked somewhat promising when she checked in the wee hours of the morning, yet as her gardening duties dragged on, so too did the intensity of such a clear sky. A disappointed glance at the empty wooden bucket on the edge of the field was quickly corrected. She hadn’t thought to refill it at the river after watering the crops, and her parched throat was making its protests known, while also reminding her that there wasn’t much water left at home either. One more thing to take care of when she was done.
A gruff cough brought her attention towards the old kobold resting his back against a tree some distance away, safely shaded from the unforgiving rays beaming down. Her displeasure at having yet more to do was hastily wiped away. She was undecided on what to think of the detached audience, but looking so sour while upholding her side of the agreement wouldn’t reflect well on her. Hopefully, he hadn’t seen it. Not that she could tell if he did; he always had the same expression when he watched her work. The elder kobold’s arms were crossed, a finger tapping absently against his bicep, while his tail sat motionless on the grass, the muddy red colour of his scales standing out amongst the greens and browns. ‘Makis,’ was his name, assuming her memory served.
Makis had taken to observing her every so often, usually propping himself against this or that at a distance, the unwavering scowl being as unnerving as it was belying of his age. Somewhat loose skin sagged a bit around his jowls and neck, yet the rest of his face was still taut from how much time he spent examining red-hot metal, and his arms were marred with countless burns and cuts from his profession. He held an oppressive aura, though the crinkles around his eyes and muzzle suggested he smiled as frequently as he glowered, even if Ceele was yet to see the former. There was only the same judgmental expression aimed at her when he was around. She could only hope that he didn’t take offence to some unintended slight, but she didn’t know him well enough to say what might be considered one.
They hadn’t spoken since she took up residence on the outskirts of his land. His wife was the one to introduce them, but it was quickly established that he had no intention of being a chatty individual. He led Ceele to the shed hidden amongst the trees on the edge of the property, then dismissed her with only a grunt coming from the elderly kobold. She supposed that it was for the best. Her experience in socializing was centred around convincing others to employ her, and there hadn’t been much of an opportunity to expand her horizons while living a life on the road. If that had been the end of their interactions, she would have swiftly written the terseness off, but he appeared every few days, taking up residence beneath the shade as he watched her work, never speaking a single word. At least he didn’t openly protest her presence, yet she figured that would be easier to manage. He wouldn’t be such an enigma then.
There wasn’t a whole lot she knew about him besides his penchant for ‘supervision,’ and anything beyond that was what his wife had volunteered during the rare opportunity they had to chat. She was told that Makis worked the smithy out front, and although he had retired from doing so in an official capacity, she could still regularly hear his hammer as she tended to the garden, so she figured he kept himself busy most days. It made her wonder what was so interesting about a vagrant like herself, but when there was so little else to do, she could see how anything could be made worth the attention. It was just him and his wife living in the once bustling home, after all; the couple’s children had long since grown up and made families of their own.
She noticed his gaze shift elsewhere as she tugged yet another stubborn intruder from the soil, his arms falling from across his chest and the perpetually worn displeasure melting to that of curiosity. He wandered off shortly after, and she had to make an effort not to fall onto her tail as the pressure on her shoulders unexpectedly evaporated. Did something happen?
Ceele shook her head free of the distracting thought. It wasn’t her business if he grew bored with watching her work. As long as no one voiced any complaints, she could only assume that she was doing a satisfactory job. Maybe he finally decided that he didn’t need to be so watchful because she was doing well! That could be it, right?
A glance at the somewhat sloppily maintained garden erased the false confidence from her face, but she was just as quick to focus on finishing up, unwilling to allow darker musings to fester. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be anything else that needed her intervention. The weeds were all uprooted, the soil was appropriately dampened, and her check for pesky insects or wildlife turned up nothing to worry about. She was free for the rest of the day!
…Or she would be free—as soon as she finished the last of her tasks, anyway.
The black-scaled kobold got up from her crouch unsteadily, shivering and wincing from the pins and needles in her legs. She would have to remember to stretch more often; it was far too easy to forgo that kind of thing just to make the overall work go slightly faster. Her hand reached out to grab the pile of weeds and put them into the bucket as she ran through what needed to be done before she could properly relax. Hoppit’s food needed to be washed, she needed to bathe, and they were running low on water anyway, so she would have to visit the river. Just the thought of dragging herself into the forest again made her muscles protest, but she wouldn’t have the energy to do it later. She forced the smile that had started to fall and took the first of many steps.
- - - - -
The river wasn’t too far away, only taking a few minutes of traipsing through the dense woodlands until she reached her destination. It was an idyllic little spot. The trees thinned out to allow a grassy bank along the water, and there was an appreciably gentle slope from shallows to depths, making for a convenient place to take care of various needs. She had discovered this place during her travels, and it was where a kind older woman found her.
Ceele was washing off at the time, with Hoppit safely taking shelter from the outside underneath the bundled blankets while he waited. The trickle of the stream brushing against rocks covered the sound of footsteps, so she was rather surprised when an aged voice called out to ask if she was okay. Her first reaction was to distance herself and apologize—the why didn’t matter, but she had learned that most people were more lenient of her presence if she seemed apologetic for it, and she usually was. The elderly kobold just laughed at her scrambling, tacking on an assurance that there was no need for modesty. The woman was blind, apparently, which explained how Ceele’s blackened colours hadn’t deterred her.
Strangely enough, there was a comforting sense of ease around the one who introduced herself as Hira. It was a sort of presence that Ceele could only vaguely remember, and it drew her close enough to speak as she finished bathing. The conversation wasn’t anything profound, of course—they hardly delved deeper than surface-level small talk—but Hira lost her smile as she listened to the younger kobold. By the end of it, the old woman posed a series of questions with a dark inflection to her voice, and Ceele struggled to find an answer.
‘Are you tired of looking for something that only slips away? Are you tired of running? Do you really want to be scared and alone?’
If the silence bothered Hira, then it didn’t show. She had simply held out a hand and offered Ceele a way of life that didn’t involve wondering where she would be spending the night, nor entailed cowering in the brush while fearsome predators roamed freely. It would be a simple existence of few fortunes, but it was safe, and it was honest. All she had to do was say yes.
Ceele denied it at first, partially because she knew most people despised Hobbit's species, and partially because she couldn’t shake the offer being too good to be true. Hira was quick to propose a compromise; Ceele could take residence in the gardening shed that had fallen from use, and to satiate the nagging sense of an unfair deal, she would be put in charge of maintaining the garden itself. All Hira wanted was to ‘see’ her favourite space bloom again, since she couldn’t take care of it anymore. The black-scaled kobold stared longingly at where Hoppit was, his little body shivering from the prolonged cold and fear that he would be hurt if he left the blankets hiding him. It was with a heavy guilt that she accepted Hira’s offer, keeping quiet about her true reason for doing so.
That was in the past, however, though she thought about it every time she stopped by and saw the smooth rocks where she and Hira first met. Eventually, she might gather the courage to admit that she was housing a ‘pest’ and beg for forgiveness. Until then, she would just work her hardest to prove it wasn’t a mistake to give her a home. That her endless efforts weren’t meaningless. That Hoppit deserved to be more than a ‘pest.’
That Ceele was more than something she had no control over being.
She cleared her head a bit and started on the reason she came all this way. Her dress was rather easy to wash in the meandering water, and the trees provided a suitable place for it to dry in the sunlight and light breeze. The weeds were fine with a thorough rinse near in the shallows, but taking care of her own hygiene required her to wade farther in, though it only came up to her chest in the middle of the rill. Still, she could scrub off the soil and grime, which was all she really needed. Perhaps some simple soaps would help rid her of the pervasive black that stained her skin and scales, but that was beyond her meagre means for the time being, as well as being mere wishful thinking.
She worked past the dreary mindset that settled in when she allowed it, focusing on how serene the river was. The soft birdsong from the trees helped make for a peaceful experience, and she could feel the somewhat chilled liquid basically pour into the aches and pains throughout her body, washing away the stiffness from spending so long under the unerring sun. It was nice to escape reality and let thoughts drift while held buoyant by calmer waters.
Yet the bliss was short-lived. Even if winter was gone, spring was still far from warming the waters enough for her to laze about for too long. She dragged herself from the soft current and fetched her dress from the low-lying branch she left it to dry on. It was still a touch damp, but it wasn’t anything a bit of time in front of the fireplace wouldn’t fix.
Ceele was only a short distance away from home when she heard a gravelly male voice, but it was the flicker of sight between the trees that made her drop what was in her arms and lunge into a sprint.
Makis stood just outside the gardening shed, a ferrorabbit held at arm’s length by rusty crimson hands placed on the scruff and haunch, the rabbit’s little ears flattened as fear filled its tiny face. Her eyes widened further when she noticed the small stains of blood in his light brown fur. They found out about him. Ephemeral claws of blackness clutched at her soul, ripping the very fabric she was made of as an unseen beast smiled, eager to take yet one more thing from her. Her Hoppit. Her baby. Her everything.
“Hoppit!” she shrieked, her words all but tearing out of her throat in desperation. Frozen blood coursed through her veins, yet poured into exhausted limbs. She broke through the treeline with no regard for the branches slashing against her flesh, panic making each sting fade before it could be processed. The grizzled glare of the older kobold snapped towards her, his usual scowl picking up an actual air of intensity that she never thought could be absent, the promise of violence lurking in his eyes. She skidded to a stop a few paces away, the lump in her throat threatening to clog her airway. “S-stop hurting him!”
“Didn’t,” he barked back, his tone even yet firm. “Cuts ain’t me. I’d’a done worse if’a had ta mind ta.”
The blatant declaration snapped her from blind panic, although his apparent anger didn’t do her fear any favours. “B-but… Then how…”
“‘Hoppit.’ Named it, did’cha?” he grunted, ignoring her confusion and bobbing the rabbit to get her attention again. His gaze shifted back to the animal, the flames of ire cooling slightly. “I was wonderin’ why yer plots ain’t dead yet. Suppose this critter’s why.”
One of her hands hesitantly reached out until she pulled it back, while the other clutched at her chest to stop her heart from hammering against her ribs. She couldn’t act rashly. Not while her baby was in his arms. “I—”
“Soft thing, ain’t it,” the elder kobold commented curiously, cutting her off.
“Y-yes?” she returned reluctantly, struggling to stop herself from lashing out to reclaim the ferrorabbit in his grasp.
“Like fine silk.” Makis tipped and tilted the animal, inspecting this and that with a deep-seated frown, all while Hoppit silently looked to her for help. The pit in her stomach grew. She needed to get him back, but how?
Ceele swallowed the dense dread as she tried to formulate some sort of plan, stumbling over her words and forced smile. “I-it’s nice! Isn’t it nice?”
His eyes snapped back to burrow into her own with hatred. “Wasn’t a compliment, girly.”
“B-but you—”
He released Hoppit’s lower half to jab a claw at the various spikes around his body, plying them with minimal force. “Look. See this? These’r suppose ta break bone. ‘Specially when he’s stiff like this. Ain’t no way I should be able ta bend ‘em. He’s barely more than a walkin’ carcass—all skin ‘n stick. He’s gonna get picked up by a wandering pecker if he keeps pissin’ about out ‘ere. It’s a wonder he’s still kickin’. What’cha feeding ‘em?” His gaze dropped from her face to the rest of her, disgust curling his muzzle into a snarl. “N’ver mind. I can guess.”
She felt the dampness build at the edges of her vision, unprepared to not only worry for Hoppit's immediate health, but also to face such harsh criticism while she was so vulnerable. “I… I try to make sure he has…”
Makis crouched to release the ferrorabbit onto the ground, Ceele dropping to her knees the moment he did. The terrified lagomorph wasted no time, bolting towards his adoptive mother and leaping into her arms, shaking uncontrollably. The rust-coloured ‘bold stared as she started soothingly stroking the animal’s back.
“Yer given’ em the weeds, aren’t ya?” he stated rather than asked. She gave a teary nod when her voice wouldn’t respond for her. The old kobold drew a breath, letting it go in an exasperated sigh as he stood back up, his expression becoming more impatient than antagonistic. “What else?”
“I— Um…”
“What. Else?”
“W-whatever I c-can find!” she sputtered out. Hoppit tried to hide against her neck, prompting her to tighten her hold. She couldn’t stop herself from shrinking, the guilt and confusion pulling her head down. “R-roots, vegetables, fruits… I give them as often as I can.”
His glare continued unimpeded, his cadence cold. “That it?”
There were a million things Ceele wanted to say. A part of her wanted to beg him not to kick them out of the first safe place she had in longer than she could remember, but she couldn’t find the words. She wanted to deny the judgmental tone that stabbed into her insecurity surrounding how good of a job she was doing with Hoppit, but the deadened void in her chest swallowed her pride whole. She knew he was right to critique her. That she was failing in the only thing that mattered anymore. That the feeling of loss would return.
“I try,” she whispered through the beginnings of a sob. “I try to find more, but he needs someone around, and I have to work the garden, so there’s only so much time I can spend looking. He won’t even eat all of what I bring back…” Tears dripped off her cheeks as she aimed a desolate smile at her furry friend. “He wants to make sure I have some too.”
“Yer killin’ em,” Makis pointed out plainly, crossing his arms. “He’ll be dead ‘fore the summer at this rate.”
“I know!” she shouted, forcing back the memories of insidious murmurs that lurked in the back of her mind, eager to creep into her ears again. The hate-filled stares that followed her, the rumours that arrived in towns before she had the chance to make an impression, and the guilt that loomed over her like an executioner's axe… “I know I am… I just… I don’t know what he needs. I don’t know how to make him happy…but I try. I’m trying…”
“…Yer an idiot, girly.”
She looked up to see the elder kobold walking away without another word. Her eyes fell to Hoppit, the ferrorabbit pressing himself against her as much as he could. He was small, thin, soft, and growing weaker by the day, but he never let it keep him down for long. No, he always showed his best for her, giving her joy that wasn’t provided anywhere else. She saw the thin cuts and dried blood, though she didn’t know where they came from, nor how he got out of the shed in the first place. But that was okay. Hoppit was okay, and she had Hoppit, so everything was okay, right?
…But how much longer would everything stay okay? How much longer until her efforts weren’t enough, and she was left desperately reaching for fading memories of what once was? How much longer until she killed her baby too?
How much longer until she was alone again?
Soft footsteps drew near, pulling her from the spiralling thoughts that threatened to gnaw at her soul. Damp, blurry eyes fell on Makis returning with a small wooden crate, the older kobold stopping a few steps away. He dropped the box, a deep, rattling thud produced as it impacted the ground, making Hoppit flinch in her arms. Ceele blinked as she kept him calm, then blinked again, looking up at the man for answers.
“The name, girly,” he spat in irritation. “Ferrorabbit. Ther’ Earth aligned creatures; they need metals. They don’t care where they get it, but they need lots of it. Iron, copper, tin, lead—raw crystal, if they can find it. You name it, they’ll take a chunk out of it. It's why they bother farmers so much; the best soil’s usually top’a gem deposits, ‘n the little bastards have no issue burrowing deep to get it. Dries up the element’s energy ‘n makes the crops weak.”
Ceele’s mouth opened and closed, each unsuccessful attempt to speak making her feel smaller and smaller. More and more lost. Why was he telling her this? How did he know? What was in the—
He kicked the crate with the side of his foot. “Scraps. Don’t’cha look at me like that. I’m a smith, girly. I might be old and retired, but I still work a forge. Now, this ain’t anything pure—it’s just slag and hunks—but I’m sure the critter won’t mind. Your little gardenin’ project pays off, ‘n I’ll see which of my contacts can get in some better ore.”
She ripped her eyes away from the box and met the perpetual scowl of the old kobold, seeing a warmth behind the hostility that she had never noticed before. “…Why?”
He scoffed in amusement, which looked somewhat menacing on such a hardened expression. “Yer a touch stupid, girly, but the missus adores ya, ‘n yer a good worker.” A shadow of a smile formed on his face. “Hira spent more evenings asking ‘bout how the plots are doin’ than I got time in the day. She’d bite my head off if I noticed a critter like that sufferin’ and didn’t lend a hand. ‘Specially when it’s obvious you ain’t tryin’ ta hurt the thing.”
“B-but the garden… Isn’t he a problem?”
Makis rolled his eyes, turning with a dismissive wave of his hand. “If he was, he’da killed it by now. I’d say he’s been keepin’ the others clear ‘n got scratched up for the trouble. That’s more reason to feed ‘em right in my eyes; pay the poor bastard his dues.” He paused after a few steps, shooting her one last incredulous glance. “‘N the rabbit’s right. You’re not much better off than he is. Eat. Before the missus takes my head, preferably. I ain’t need ta hear her worryin’ over you more than I already do.”
And with that, he walked off back to the house, leaving Ceele to sit stunned on the ground with Hoppit quietly nuzzling into her.
“Hoppit…?”
The ferrorabbit perked an ear and gently licked her collar. Fresh tears ran rivulets down her face, yet they didn’t weigh her down. They felt freeing. She adjusted her hold on the rabbit and held him out, taking in the small cuts and numerous other injuries she had never noticed before. He stared back at her with worried eyes.
“You’ve been busy, huh?” she cooed quietly, doing her best to keep her voice from cracking. He shrunk in her hands. “I told you to stay home, baby. What if something happened to you? I wouldn’t know where you went, and…”
Her protests died out as she saw what was unmistakably guilt on his little face. She brought him back to her chest and cleared her throat.
“It’s alright, Hoppit. If… If you want to help momma, then we can work together, okay? Just…please don’t go off getting hurt… I don’t know what I’d do without you…” The rabbit didn’t reply, and she was pretty sure she had never heard him make any sounds that weren’t his happy little ear clacks, but she chose to interpret the nuzzling as an agreement. “Such a smart boy…”
She took a breath and wiped off the excess moisture from her cheeks, setting Hoppit down on the ground. “Let’s bring Mr. Makis’ gift in, and then I need to go get more water so we can clean you up, okay?”
He bounced his way to the door of their home, waiting patiently for her to lug the surprisingly heavy crate into the shed. He was even still behaving himself by the time she returned from picking up the things she dropped in her haste. There wasn’t a single protest from the ferrorabbit as she washed over his wounds with warm water, nor when she asked him to wait as she cut up a small salad for him using an extra portion of her rationed vegetables. Finally, once everything else was gone, she tentatively sifted through the box until she found a chunk of something that didn’t look so sharp, then offered it to Hoppit skeptically.
As startling as it was to see him bite through metal without issue, she couldn’t help but tear up again at how pleased he looked with the bizarre addition to his diet. He munched through the first piece, then stared at the box while pawing at the air, asking for more. She obliged through wet laughs, feeling lighter than she had since he first gazed at her from his burrow, alone and afraid, just like she was.
Her little baby was happy, and that made it okay.
Next
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A/N: Thank you to my Patrons, new and returning! No Thanks, Emmanuel, and Megathor join the others who get to read 1 chap ahead!

So, my dog Tinkerbell passed in August 2023, she was 9. We got our puppy Mia at 8 weeks old in March (she is 14 almost 15 weeks now) and she is a black and white sausage dog with a white marking on her chest/throat area just like Tinkie did, they are basically the same. She also screams and cries when my mother leaves the house(Tinkerbell died whilst we were away on our yearly trip to Durban) and only stops when she gets home. She follows her everywhere, cuddles her, and basically is attached to her. Tinkerbell was my mother's best friend and they were always together. We have been so sad, thinking she thought we abandoned her to die, though I know she is watching over us in heaven. I think she knew our pain and came back to us so we could heal. Mia is also very vocal and 'talks' a lot. Tinkerbell was the exact same. She prefers to be held lying on her tummy, just like Tinkie did, Tinkerbell broke her back and was very fragile. Am I just crazy? I haven't told anyone else this, just shared to reddit.

My name is Rory Fars, and my little sister, Lily Fars, is the last family I had left.
A heavy sense of dread settled over me like a suffocating blanket as I sat in the worn leather seat of Lily's old jeep. The car, a relic of our happier days, seemed to groan under our shared sorrow. Beside me, Lily, my best friend, and confidante, absentmindedly twirled a strand of her long, dark hair, which swayed gently in rhythm with the haunting melodies from the oldies station on the radio. This car had seen us through countless joyful journeys when our family was whole. Almost three years had passed since that fateful Christmas trip in Texas when our parents were tragically killed in a horrific multi-car pileup. The memory of their loss was a constant ache, a wound that never fully healed.
My dad was from Amarillo, Texas, so my parents often took trips down there, visiting the places that held so many memories for him. During one of these trips, just before Christmas, a sudden blizzard struck while they were on the freeway. The snow fell in blinding sheets, making the world outside a disorienting white blur. As they tried to slowly pull to the side, their vision obscured by the relentless storm, they never saw the car barreling toward them at least forty miles an hour. The impact was devastating, an abrupt and brutal end to their journey and, in many ways, to our lives as we had known them.
My parents were always sticklers for safety, insisting on seatbelts every time we got in the car. So, of course, they had theirs on during that fateful trip. The initial impact wasn't what killed them, the coroner explained to me. Not even the first hit from behind, which was going at least fifty miles an hour, was fatal. I had to practically shake the information out of him—they were so resistant to tell me anything at first. By the time the third car hit, with an unknown speed, their survival was already in jeopardy. The coroner said that by the fifth car, they were likely dead. But it didn't end there. Another twenty-three vehicles slammed into the back of the pile, each collision further crushing their bodies, reducing them to a horrific, unrecognizable state. Each jarring impact pushed my parents deeper into a gruesome amalgamation of twisted metal and shattered lives.
I don't know why I felt compelled to demand those details at the time, but I deeply regret it now. I wish I had never asked. Almost every night, unless I drink myself into oblivion, I am haunted by nightmares of what they endured. I dream of driving up to save them, only to be caught in the same deadly barrage of cars, ending in a twisted metal tomb for all of us.
Lily is never in those dreams. Even in my most horrific imaginings, I can't envision her being hurt. Lily is my little sister, younger by eight years and three months. Whenever I mention our age difference, I see the judgment in people's eyes, but what can I say? Our parents never stopped loving each other. They had Lily late in life; she became our shared joy, our living reminder of the love that had bound our family together.
Lily wasn't my twin in the literal sense, but ever since she was born, it felt like we shared the inexplicable connection that twins often describe. As she grew up, our bond only deepened—we acted, sounded, and even looked remarkably alike. She became my rock, especially after our parents' tragic deaths. We leaned on each other, cried into each other's shoulders, and somehow found the strength to move forward. We eventually moved in together, finding solace in a two-bedroom apartment that became our sanctuary.
Lily seemed to handle our parents' deaths better than I did, or maybe she was just better at distracting herself with technology. Even before their passing, Lily was addicted to any kind of digital screen she could manipulate. Her ability to navigate the digital world was unmatched; she was the most intelligent person I had ever met. Her intelligence was a beacon of light in the darkness that had enveloped us, a testament to her resilience and brilliance.
After my parents' death, I embarked on a quest to find my spirituality by delving into paranormal investigations. I hoped these pursuits would bring me closer to my parents in the afterlife, spiritual realm, or whatever you want to call it. Instead, it created a chasm between me and any sense of spiritual existence. Each investigation seemed to push me further from the answers I sought, leaving me feeling more isolated and disconnected than ever.
I had hoped that by exploring these paranormal claims, I would discover a way to reach out to my parents and feel their presence again. Yet, as the years have passed, this endeavor has only deepened my loneliness and sense of loss. Despite knowing how detrimental it is to my mental health, I can't bring myself to stop. The hope that the subsequent investigation will be the one that proves the existence of an afterlife and that I'll find a way to contact my parents keeps me going. It's a desperate, unrelenting pursuit for a connection that remains heartbreakingly out of reach.
I should have accepted their death and moved on like any sane person would. Instead, I let my grief fester and dragged my sister and a stranger, Mark, through my obsessive quest for answers. My relentless pursuit of the paranormal didn't just alienate me; it consumed us all, leading to their untimely deaths. My name is Rory Fars, and I am here to confess my side of the story about the missing case of Lily Fars and Mark Lawrence.
This is the truth about how my desperate search for a connection with the afterlife led to a nightmare from which none of us could escape.
To start off, no, Lily was not a student of Mark's who fell in love with him and then got jealous of me hitting on him, leading her to kill him and herself. I know that sounds ridiculous, but given some wild theories circulating online, I need to address this one specifically since it seems to be the most popular.
First and foremost, Mark Lawrence was not, nor has he ever been, a professor at a university. Lily and I met Mark at the Local Museum in Redlin, a town nestled deep in the Appalachian Mountains. He was the curator of an exhibit showcasing the history of Raven's Nest, a forgotten mining town that neither Lily nor I had ever heard of. This is where our story begins, in a place steeped in history and mystery, far removed from the convoluted theories that now cloud the truth.
We were constantly searching for new ideas for our podcast about paranormal claims. Each of our twenty-five episodes so far had concluded with a rational explanation, so when Mark told us about the curse of Harper, I was immediately intrigued.
Mark was an older man, likely in his mid-sixties, with a full head of silver hair and a beard that stubbornly clung to its youthful color, only lightly dusted with grey. He had a presence that commanded attention, and his stories about the curse were delivered with an intensity that drew me in.
On the other hand, Lily was always more interested in the technical aspects of the paranormal. She had her own theories and was determined to debunk every claim we investigated. She wasn't easily swayed by Mark's tales about the curse of Harper, but she was willing to listen and give him a chance to prove himself. Her skeptical mind constantly checked my enthusiasm, and together, we hoped to uncover the truth behind yet another paranormal mystery.
"Hello ladies, care to hear about the mysterious town of Raven's Nest?" Mark asked with theatrical enthusiasm.
Lily and I exchanged a knowing glance, trying to stifle our amusement. Despite our attempts to remain composed, a smirk played at the corners of our lips.
"We're all ears," I replied, my tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.
He sighed, almost as if he was disappointed that we said yes. Taking a deep breath, he seemed to steel himself for the task ahead. "Well, you see," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "in the early twentieth century, a man named Harper Franstein exploited many men and children in the coal mines. By the mid-1920s, he had established his own settlement in a secluded valley, which he dubbed 'The Raven's Nest.' It was never officially recognized as a town, but that's the only name we have to go off of."
I could see the beads of sweat forming on Mark's brow as he struggled to recall every detail. Despite his initial enthusiasm, he now appeared flustered, his confidence waning. Eventually, he resorted to consulting his damp and crumpled notes, a sign of his growing unease.
"Um, anyway, yeah, um," he stuttered, audibly gulping as his nerves got the better of him. Lily couldn't contain her laughter, emitting a snicker that earned us a glare from Mark.
"Hey, just relax," I interjected, trying to diffuse the tension. "We're not here to judge or intimidate you." With a gentle touch on his forearm and a chuckle, I attempted to reassure him, hoping to ease his obvious discomfort.
He paused, sharing a chuckle with me, while Lily struggled to suppress her laughter and eventually excused herself, leaving just Mark and me. Evidently, he felt more at ease with fewer listeners, so he pressed on with his narrative.
"Anyway," he resumed, "Harper held complete control over the town and the mine, and he made sure everyone was acutely aware of that fact. When the disappearances began, he tried to sweep them under the rug, attributing them to anything but his own negligence in mining practices."
"What do you mean by 'negligence in mining practices'?" I interjected, eager to delve deeper into his intriguing tale.
He looked up, clearly pleased by my question. "Yes, exactly," he affirmed. "Harper adhered to a mining technique outlined by Dwight Brunst in the mid to late nineteenth century. This method mandated only one entry and exit point into the mine."
"Wait, so they were forbidden from creating additional exits?" I pressed for clarification.
"Not explicitly," he explained. "The practice advocated for just one entry and exit as it was believed to minimize the risk of cave-ins, at least in theory. However, there were instances where miners, feeling uneasy about this restriction, took matters into their own hands and carved out what they called 'Emergency Exits' for themselves. After about half of the town started going missing, Harper couldn't take criticism about how he responded, but most people say he was losing money quickly and didn't want to live in a world where he was poor. He walked into the mine, never to be seen again, much like the cave's past victims. Visitors report seeing and hearing Harper, trying to get them to leave."
As I stood there, listening to Mark's enthralling narrative, I found myself captivated by the mysterious allure of Raven's Nest. Unable to contain my curiosity, I decided to pose a question.
"So, what does the town look like now?" I inquired, eager to learn more about the present state of this enigmatic place.
Mark's demeanor shifted slightly as he rifled through his notes, a subtle indication that he didn't have a straightforward answer to my query.
"You've never been there?" I asked, my tone softening with genuine curiosity.
He flinched as though my question had struck a nerve. "Shhhhhh... shut up," he demanded, his voice tinged with unease.
Suppressing a chuckle, I leaned in closer and whispered, "Okay, hear me out. My sister Lily and I are investigating paranormal phenomena. Your story about Raven's Nest sounds like the perfect addition to our podcast. What do you say we compensate you for your guidance? Let's say, three hundred bucks?"
He straightened up, contemplating my proposition for a few moments. Without uttering a word, he extended his hand, and I met it halfway with my own, sealing our agreement with a firm handshake.
Our journey to Raven's Nest was no easy feat. Situated a good twenty miles from town and nestled deep within a dense valley. After all of the tight turns, narrow dirt roads, and steep inclines, it took us a grueling two and a half hours to go twenty-something miles, but we finally reached the outskirts of the infamous settlement. As we stood at the edge of the "Nest," anticipation mingled with trepidation, setting the stage for the eerie exploration that lay ahead.
I glanced at my phone; the time read 11:56 pm, signaling the late hour. Sensing the exhaustion weighing heavily, I suggested we catch a few hours of rest in Lily's jeep. Mark, though visibly unsettled, remained silent from the back seat, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he slumped against the window like a sulking child.
Drifting asleep in the passenger seat, I soon found myself ensnared in a nightmare. In my dream, Mark was being dragged away into the darkness, his desperate attempts to claw his way back to safety only resulting in broken fingertips. Despite his struggles, he was powerless against the unseen force pulling him inexorably into the abyss. Suddenly, I was alone, engulfed in utter darkness, my heart pounding with fear as I ran blindly from an unseen terror that seemed to pursue me relentlessly, its malevolent presence palpable but unseen.
I jolted awake, gasping for breath, my heart racing as the remnants of dread lingered in the pit of my stomach. It was morning, and I was struggling to adjust my vision. Lily's frantic but comforting voice broke through the haze of my terror, grounding me in reality. With her comforting embrace, I gradually calmed my racing thoughts, drawing deep, steadying breaths.
As we sat there, enveloped in each other's embrace, Mark approached the driver's side window with an unexpected question, "Alright, what's for breakfast?" His nonchalant tone and casual demeanor were a stark contrast to the harrowing nightmare that had just consumed my thoughts, momentarily dispelling the lingering specter of fear that had haunted my dreams.
Lily and I both look up at him and back at each other as we burst out into laughter.
Amidst our shared laughter, Lily and I exchanged amused glances before turning our attention back to Mark.
"Ha...ha, yeah. No, but seriously, what's for breakfast? Eggs, bacon, toast, at least?" Mark pressed, hoping for a more substantial response.
His earnest inquiry fueled our laughter further, our giggles echoing through the quiet night air. Eventually, we regained our composure and stepped out of the jeep, stretching our limbs after the cramped confines of the vehicle.
Mark awkwardly moves to the side, still waiting for an honest answer. Lily tossed him a granola bar, eliciting a bemused chuckle from him. With a shared understanding, we set off on foot, embarking on the hike into the town.
The path ahead was clear: a single dirt road that wound its way from the abandoned coal mine into the heart of the small settlement. The road, now overgrown and muddy from years of disuse, bore the marks of neglect and isolation. Wary of the treacherous conditions, Lily opted to forgo the risk of getting stuck, steering clear of the decrepit road that likely hadn't seen a traveler in at least half a century.
We parked Lily's jeep at the entrance to both the mine and the town of Raven's Nest, opting to proceed on foot from there. Standing at the mountain's peak, gazing down at the desolate town below, I couldn't help but ponder the history beneath the dilapidated structures. I imagined how this valley must have once been a pristine landscape cherished by the indigenous people who roamed its lush terrain.
"Jesus, this place is more like a shit nest," Mark muttered in disgust, his disdain evident in his tone.
Lily shot me a knowing glance, silently communicating her skepticism toward Mark's assessment of the town.
Deciding to put Mark's knowledge to the test, I casually inquired, "So, what year was this area founded?"
Mark's reaction was almost defensive as if my question had caught him off guard. He hesitated momentarily before fumbling for his note cards in his pocket, a telltale sign that he wasn't as knowledgeable as he let on.
Before he could respond, I interjected with another question, "Mark, how long have you worked at the museum?"
As Mark froze, his gaze locking onto mine like a deer caught in headlights, I watched him closely, waiting for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. My narrowed eyes bore into his, silently urging him to be honest.
Finally, breaking the tense silence, Mark confessed, "Look, this is only my first week. I... I haven't had the greatest time lately, and I really need the extra money. I'm sorry I lied, but I'll help however I can."
I met his gaze unwaveringly, sensing the sincerity in his words. Clearly, he was a man in need of redemption, grappling with his own personal struggles.
"Alright, alright, don't cry too much," I teased lightly, trying to ease the tension. Gesturing towards Lily, who was busy preparing her wireless motion cameras in her backpack, I continued, "Lily and I already figured that was the case. Honestly, we're surprised you agreed to come along."
Mark remained frozen, but the tension seemed to melt away from his expression, replaced by a tentative smile. It was a moment of shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment that he was still welcomed into our expedition despite his initial deception.
"Alright, I have the cams and portable batteries to make sure the cameras and anything we have with power can last," Lily said, her voice brimming with determination.
We began our descent into the town, our hiking boots struggling against the thick, clinging mud produced by the constant light rain and years of disuse. Each step was a battle, the mud threatening to swallow our boots with every move.
After an eternity of trudging through the muck, we finally reached the town's only paved road—the main road. It had taken us only about fifteen minutes to hike down, but navigating the muddy slope had sapped our energy. We paused for a break, taking a few minutes to clean off our boots and catch our breath.
As we rested, I noticed Lily rummaging through her bag with a focused intensity. Curious, I asked, "What are you looking for?"
"I brought five motion-detecting cameras that I want to set up strategically throughout the town," she replied, pulling out one of the cameras. She walked over to the nearest building, a structure that served as a post office, police station, and fire station. She positioned the camera outside the building so it was pointed at the only road leading in and out of the town.
"We need to cover all potential points of interest," she explained, securing the camera in place. "This one will monitor any activity on the main road. We should place the other cameras around key locations like the mine entrance, the town square, and some more intact buildings."
I nodded, appreciating her thoroughness. "Good idea. We need to make sure we capture anything unusual."
Mark, having finally caught his breath, joined us. "Alright, let's get these cameras set up and see what we can find," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Look," Lily said, turning her tablet screen toward us. She waved her hand in front of the camera she had just placed. The tablet displayed five squares on the interface, each meant to show a feed from one of the cameras. Since Lily had only set up one camera so far, only the bottom right square showed any footage pointed at the road leading out of town. She stopped waving her hand, and the feed went to a blue screen.
"What happened? Did we lose connection?" Mark asked frantically, his eyes wide with concern.
Lily cackled, struggling to contain her amusement. Composing herself, she waved her hand in front of the camera again, and the bottom right square showed her hand waving once more. "It's motion-activated. It's the best way to save on battery life," she explained.
Mark seemed to relax, though he was still catching his breath after the brief panic.
I glanced at my watch, noting the time. "It's 8:30. We're behind schedule. If you want to place the rest of your cameras, we better move now," I said, walking down the street.
Lily immediately got up and followed me, with Mark struggling to keep pace behind us. We reached the market building, and Lily positioned her second camera on the side of the road, pointing up at the market.
It's not much longer before we make it to the Town Hall. I suggest Lily place a camera nearby. She nods and heads into a building across from the Town Hall labeled, "Slaughterhouse: LOCAL ANIMALS ONLY."
As Lily explores the building to find an adequate spot for the camera, I wait for Mark to catch up. While I wait, I can't help but imagine this town in its prime, picturing the streets filled with families who loved each other.
My thoughts are abruptly cut off by a sound echoing in the distance—a roar unlike any I've ever heard. It was a mix of a human screaming in pain, the roar of a lion, and, near the end, the howl of a wolf. The chilling sound sent shivers down my spine.
I jump to my feet and immediately call out, "Lily, you okay?"
There's no response from Lily, but I'm interrupted by Mark finally catching up, panting heavily.
"Holy... shit... did you... hear that?" Mark said frantically between breaths.
"Yeah, we have to find Lily," I say, bolting into the slaughterhouse. I glance back to see Mark bracing himself on the steps of the Town Hall, struggling to keep up.
As I enter the building, the stench of rotting flesh hits me like a wave, causing me to gag. The smell is too fresh to be decades old.
"Lily? Lily, where are you?" I yell, using my shirt to shield my nose from the overwhelming odor.
"Rory, I'm in here!" I hear Lily yell from a room two doors down. I pass the first door, peeking in to ensure I hadn't misheard, but I wish I hadn't looked.
Inside the first room, I catch a glimpse of what appears to be a pile of animal carcasses, their decayed bodies arranged in a grotesque display. The sight is horrifying, the flesh still disturbingly fresh. The bile rises in my throat, but I force myself to focus on finding Lily.
I rush to the room where her voice came from, pushing the door open. Lily is there, setting up the camera, seemingly oblivious to the horror in the adjacent room. Relief floods through me as I see she's safe.
"Lily, did you hear that roar?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Yeah, I heard it," she replies, her eyes wide with concern. "I was just finishing up here. Let's get back to Mark and figure out what that was." She had placed the camera in a window, pointing directly at the Town Hall.
We hurry back outside, where Mark still catches his breath as we meet between the buildings. "We need to stay together from now on," I say firmly, looking at both of them. "Whatever that noise was, it's not something we want to face alone."
"Let's check out the Town Hall!" Mark says excitedly as he slowly clambers through a broken window.
"Did he not just hear what I said?" I mutter under my breath, shaking my head in disbelief.
Lily gives me a shrug, her eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Guess we're heading into the Town Hall then," she says, adjusting her backpack and walking towards the broken window.
I sigh and follow suit, hoisting myself up and carefully maneuvering through the jagged glass. Inside, the air is musty, filled with the scent of old paper and decaying wood. Dust motes float lazily in the beams of sunlight streaming through the cracked windows.
The main hall is vast and eerily silent, with rows of empty chairs facing a stage draped in tattered curtains. The walls are lined with faded portraits and yellowed maps of the town, remnants of a time when this place was alive and bustling.
Mark is already at the front, examining a large, decrepit desk. "Look at this," he says, his voice echoing in the empty space. "It's like stepping back in time."
I walk over, glancing at the old papers scattered across the desk. Most are mundane—meeting minutes, maintenance logs—but one catches my eye. It's a letter dated June 1925, addressed to Harper Franstein.
"Harper, the disappearances are becoming more frequent. The townsfolk are getting restless, and I fear they may take matters into their own hands if we don't act soon. We need to find out what's causing this before it's too late."
I read the letter aloud, and the room fell silent. "Sounds like things were getting pretty tense," Lily remarks, her voice subdued.
As I'm distracted by the time capsule in front of us, Mark sneaks off.
I'm not sure how long it was before she noticed, but I saw Lily looking around before saying, "Where the hell did Mark go?" breaking me out of my trance.
I look around, turning my head in all directions, and shrug at Lily. I hear shuffling in the second room down the hall, so I slowly walk toward it.
"Mark?" I call out.
Just then, a loud crash reverberates through the building, making it sound like the whole place was about to come down.
We run in and see Mark struggling to keep himself from falling into a giant hole that must've broken under his weight. Trying not to laugh, I glance at Lily. We help him up as he dramatically falls onto his back, wheezing as he catches his breath.
Lily and I can't contain our laughter anymore as we bust out laughing hard. Startled by our sudden outburst, Mark jumps in fear. He looks around, confused for a few seconds, before realizing that we are laughing at him.
"Jesus, thanks, I guess," he says, clearly thankful but annoyed by our reaction.
After we contained ourselves, we headed back outside, exiting through the window Mark entered through. He struggles to climb out, but after Lily gives him a hand, he is safely out of the Town Hall.
"Alright, Ror, where should we put the next camera?" Lily asks me.
I stop to think momentarily, trying to picture the town's layout. "I think the only place left is the neighborhood," I respond confidently. I always talk like that with Lily. Over the years, I've realized she is the only person I can have that much confidence around. With anyone else, I'm worried about saying something stupid or wrong or how they'll view me, but with my sister, everything is easy.
As I look at the replica map of the town in its heyday from the museum, I determine that the neighborhood is to the East. "Okay, looks like we head East past the Library. Let's go." I say, walking away.
It only takes about eight minutes to get to the long strip of road that housed the town's workers. According to the map, there were fifteen houses along this strip of road.
The houses stand eerily silent, their wooden frames weathered and decayed by time. We walk down the road, our footsteps crunching on the gravel and echoing in the stillness. The air feels heavier here like the past is watching us, waiting to reveal its secrets.
"Let's put the last cameras on that house at the end of the road," I suggest, pointing to a house that looks slightly less dilapidated than the others, "another one at the last house on the other side, and the last we can save for a spot you choose."
Lily nods and heads toward the first house, pulling another camera from her backpack. She sets it up on the porch, positioning it to capture the entire street, and does the same in the opposite house. As I stand with Mark breathing hard, still unable to catch his breath since we first got here, I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched. I glance around nervously but see nothing out of the ordinary.
"All set," Lily says, breaking my reverie, "Still no ideas for the last cam?" Lily asks me.
"Like I said, wherever you think it would be best. I feel like we have enough good spots and angles, so go wild with that one," I told her.
She smirked and kept walking next to me. Mark was still struggling behind, but after the town hall mishap, he was trying his best to keep up. I looked at my watch, and it read '12:30 pm'.
"Holy shit, it's already 12:30," I said in amazement, but no one else seemed fazed. It felt like we'd only been here thirty minutes, not almost four hours.
We walked back down the street. Lily and I had been discussing on the walk that she should put the last camera at the town's only stoplight in front of the Library.
As we made our way to it, I could have sworn I was seeing something moving fast past my vision in the corner of my eye. Every time I turned to look, it was gone. I chalked it up to being my imagination until Lily and Mark both experienced the same thing.
"What the fuck was that?" Mark asked as he ducked, bracing for something terrible to happen. Lily and I looked back at him and then at each other as we shrugged. It was after that that I started seeing things, too.
I confided in Lily about the unsettling visions and sounds, and she admitted she had experienced the same phenomena but had kept quiet, fearing Mark would dismiss her as paranoid.
"Well, it's probably just a cat or something," I said, attempting to downplay the situation, but neither seemed convinced.
We continued our trek, and I noticed that the more we walked, the more frequently I caught fleeting glimpses of movement in my peripheral vision. It was beginning to grate on my nerves.
Finally, we reached the light in front of the Library. As Lily mounted the camera, I felt a sense of satisfaction. We were making good progress, and it seemed like a suitable moment to start exploring the town more freely. We decided to split up and cover different sections of the town.
"Wait, we have to go alone? Why can't we stay together like you said?" Mark asked frantically, but Lily and I ignored him as we headed in separate directions. He continued to protest, but we paid him no mind. Eventually, I was either far enough away to not hear him anymore, or he had given up. Either way, I was happy to enjoy the eerie silence of the town.
As I wandered, the stillness of Raven's Nest enveloped me. With its decrepit buildings and overgrown streets, the town exuded an unsettling charm. It was as if I had stepped into a forgotten world, a place frozen in time with secrets waiting to be unearthed. The ambiance reminded me of an amusement park's haunted town section—artificially eerie yet irresistibly intriguing. Despite the creepiness, the mysterious vibe of the town kept me engaged and eager to explore its hidden corners.
I glanced at my watch again, only to find the time glaring back at me: 3:19 pm. It couldn't be right. There was no way it had been that long since I last checked. Panic seized me, and I called out for Lily, my voice tinged with urgency. She appeared beside me in a matter of minutes, her expression mirroring my concern.
"What's up, Ror? You okay?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.
"How long would you say it's been since you put the last camera down?" I inquired, my heart pounding in my chest.
Lily's brow furrowed as she struggled to come up with an answer. "Uh, I don't know, thirty minutes?" she hazarded a guess.
I held up my watch, displaying the time: 3:20 pm. Lily fell silent, her eyes widening in disbelief. She was never great with time, but missing almost three hours of our memory was unprecedented.
"There's no way. Your watch must be—" Lily began, her voice trailing off as she checked her own watch, only to freeze in shock when she found it displayed the same time as mine.
"Lil, something is going on," I stated, my voice tight and apprehensive. I glanced up at the sky, my stomach churning as I noticed the clouds darkening and rolling in from all sides of the valley.
The sky closed rapidly, ominous clouds obscuring the sun as thunder rumbled ominously against the mountains.
"Mark? Mark, where are—" I began to call out, but before I could finish, Mark emerged from behind a wall, appearing as if he'd been too frightened to venture far on his own.
"We have to get inside!" Mark exclaimed urgently, his voice tinged with fear.

I have a throat surgury on Monday. I’m happy I’m getting it done but I’m terrified. I have severe trauma from the birth of my son 7 months ago. Every night I’m in the OR, screaming in agony, every night I’m thinking the drs are trying to kill me, every night I’m there dying. And it’s hard, it’s exhausting, sleep isn’t restful. I know the Dr who’s doing my throat surgery he’s done it for me before but this time it’s different. I can’t trust any of them. Idk who’s gonna hurt me and who’s safe. It’s so scary and so hard. I don’t want to do it anymore.
Truly needed this off my chest Thank you for reading.

I have seen enough threads posted on the topic of mixed voice that I thought I'd like to share some perspective on high pitched mixed voice singing, because this is often one of the hardest techniques next to whistle tone. This is coming from a vocalist with over ten years of experience who was only recently (in the past two years) able to gain this incredibly demanding skill, but now has enough practice to explain how its done.
Often, I think there are some that hear the incredible tenors/altos who do it, and think that their voice can never replicate. It is a rather impressive technique that is often done so well, many do not have the ears to pick up on just how carefully this technique can be used at times.
Some of my favorite vocalists on this technique: Vic Fuentes, Jazmine Sullivan, Spencer Sotelo; they are amazing musicians at a highly complicated mixed voice tone that is very difficult to do without years of experience, so lets get into how they do it:
1) Belting technique.
This is one of the easier techniques to get down, and when it comes to learning mixed voice, it is easiest to do with with the most amount of vocal support possible. The higher the mixed voice is and tests the singer, usually, the louder it is. However, belting alone will not get you prepared, since you are most likely to strain if you rely upon this alone. This was why I failed the first time when trying to learn the advanced level technique, I had a strong voice for belting (which got me tenor parts for a summer camp choir at the time), but I was lacking so much of the other fundamentals. I was still about 7 years off of being able to sing any of the Pierce The Veil catalogue, that is how important the other aspects are to achieving mixed voice.
Part of the hard journey with good mixed voice technique, is to have incredible control over it. While volume is not required for pitch, when starting out learning mixed voice, often, you will feel as if the two are more related. And for those top of the range singers who utilize mixed voice well, they often do utilize volume for the most difficult of these techniques, but then again, they'll test the limits of what their range is capable of, and they have softer notes within that range they can use that are more commonly used (and that they can switch back and forth with chest voice too). The more you practice consistently, you will find a nice gradient of dynamics to work with just like them, and the easier it will be to switch between the two ranges immediately.
2) Longtime development of vocal support:
This is one of the harder areas. As you can easily learn to belt well early on. The harder part is getting a lot of consistency throughout the majority of your most used singing range. What helped me out significantly to these final steps needed was studying many legendary contemporary R&B artists that have incredible support throughout their entire ranges. With just how much an emphasis is on vocal tone, intricate singing, this is INCREDIBLY helpful for shaping the notes you pursue when attempting the highest of mixed voice.
This can take years to get good with, and there is no shortcutting it just to get to mixed voice. That technique is already hard enough, and attempting the most difficult version will often turn out bad with a lack of this.
3) Developing Chest Dominated Mixed Voice Before Head Voice Dominated Mixed Voice
Often, there are two different beasts to mixed voice, a much-easier chest dominated mixed voice, and a I-wanna-rip-out-my-hair-because-I-tried-so-hard-and-only-got-so-far head voice dominated mixed voice. Many vocalists when learning to find the limits of their range, will stumble into chest dominated mixed voice with enough practice.
You may be unable to sing into fifth octave at the moment, but being able to hold onto this skill until you can, will help with that foundation needed.
4) Learning vibrato
While this technique might seem unrelated, it is more important than not. Being able to have a good vibrato technique is an area of vocal control I highly recommend BEFORE you tackle the next part. A good vibrato that you can shape is really good evidence of strong vocal support. It took me about 8 years to begin to learn good vibrato, and now, I'm pretty sure 95% of the music with vocals I write has it. I didn't understand just how crucial vibrato was to good vocal support/control and mixed voice, but that was one of the moments where it helped make everything click.
5) Gritty singing style/ Screamo singing
I made the less used technique second in regards to how to pull this off, since it is a rather controversial method that I do NOT want beginners to start trying unless they ABSOLUTELY have EVERY POINT down STRONG, because that technique can cause more problems than not. Last thing I want are for beginners to hurt themselves because they wanted to try screamo vocals.
One element of Jazmine Sullivan's singing style that works very well with healthy mixed voice, is a level of a raspy tone that helps with mixed voice into the fifth octave. The ability to use some moderate vocal distortion to help you achieve mixed voice is a VERY valuable approach to being the foot in the door to more complicated mixed voice approaches. This technique was helpful for me starting to learn mixed voice, particularly, her Heux Tales album. Not every approach is equally easy, and having a technique that gets you into the upper range of your voice will help you find your own approach to more music with difficult vocal ranges.
The best approach to getting you there is with learning screamo vocals Often, in metalcore, many singers will use a black metal false chord layered combined in a singing technique for very difficult high notes. I like Spencer Sotelo's (from Periphery) approach to this, and as I continued to get better at nailing the pitches on these sing style screams, my mixed voice improved significantly to tackle the majority of difficult notes I'd come across when practicing. This really removed any significant range obstacle involving the most difficult material. It often feels like you are training for an infinite range with this style of practicing, as some of the screamo pitches make Mariah Carey concerned for her job.
It is easiest to achieve head voice dominated mixed voice with screamo, because screamo vocals utilize the same infant cry technique that most mixed voice tutorials use. The big difference is creating a distortion effect with vocals, which, can make high octave material easy.
The reason why screamo vocals are a bit more controversial, is because, they are tough to do right without significantly damaging your vocal chords. With proper technique, this is very safe. Notice how I said: proper technique. Unless you are really surrounded by good metal singers to help you, attempting this early on is more risky than not, and is why I advise against beginners trying it because good guidance is like finding a pristine condition vintage Telecaster. If you have enough experience and you enjoy hardcore/metal/emo, it is worth considering this method, and if you many years of singing experience, it will make the process take months instead of the many years. Pitch matching screamo/scream singing is a very good exercise in working on the extreme limits of your range, which are relevant to mixed voice. Just as belting is a gradient, this distortion effect is the same, and it's a lot of fun to play around with how much distortion you mix in with your voice.
6) A good place to practice
Do you know what is most difficult to practicing head dominated mixed voice? Not having a space where you can fail as you are learning. Whether you find a nearby place a bit more secluded from people, practice in a car, practice when your parents/roommates aren't home; much of it comes down to the mental block the presence of others around you can bring. It can be real difficult to get loud and begin to practice mixed voice, especially since it can take much time to get good enough to record this technique. For myself, when commuting for college, it is the perfect practice hour, where nobody can judge me except for neighboring cars. That removed a giant mental block I had about getting loud enough to learn said technique. You really don't get to practice if you have parents or roommates that tell you to be quiet, and, it will make you so concerned about having a perfect technique when doing it, you will not be able to learn how to do it well enough so they don't bug you about it anymore (or if they do, it's not going to be a mental block over your technique).
Hope this helps! I had to keep this post on the longer side, just because I would much rather the extra information for proper technique. Please understand this is one methodology toward mixed voice, and there are other viable options to learning. This approach worked for me, and I'm sharing in hopes it can help someone out

Female, 31 years old. 5' 4", ~97 lbs. Entirely healthy pre Sep 2024. I don't have flares or episodes per se, just getting sicker and sicker which more signs of systemic issues.
After 10 months of seeing over 20 specialists, a misdiagnosis that put me on immunosuppressants/biologics for 6 months, ER visits, hospital stays, and almost entirely normal testing... finally received some quite out of range results. And they are... not what I expected.
Symptoms: - Edema (no joint involvement or synovitis) in fingers, hands, knees, and able with large tissue lumps/cysts around ankle bone and feet. This started in my hands only and time got much worse, spreading to other body parts. - Livedo reticularis and rashes: Vasculitis tests are negative (ANCA and biopsy), but livedo is not particularly benign. Always present in ankles and hands / wrists as well as knees. Gets worse when cold but doesn't quite go away upon warming. Maculopapular rash on chest and back. Burning red patches on mottled skin. Intermittent odd rashes that come and go. Constantly purple feet and very obvious evidence of vasoconstriction. - Severe BP fluctuations. I have been sent to the ER for 70/30 before and then once had an acute kidney injure after a period of very elevated BP. Recently, it is 150/110 whilst resting. While it does lower at times slightly in the day, the high or low levels tend to last months. - Acute kidney injury in Feb 24, but quickly resolved after 4 days hospital admission - otherwise rising but normal creatine. - Daily headaches, abdominal issues, significant weight loss. - Tender skin with what looks like small patches of lost pigment (permanent) - Clusters of blood spots, disappear within a few days but reappear elsewhere. New bruising daily. - Abnormal UAs but no infection or bacteria culture growth.
Tests: - All autoimmune, heme, cardiology, neurology tests normal for typically tested conditions. No sign of concern with vein or arteries via Dopplers, aside from diminished PVR waveforms in feet/toes and milt arterial insufficiency in upper extremities. - Very odd MRI results - suggest chronic changes in tendons / ligaments in ankles + edema around the cartilage in knee (I'm slightly underweight, have never been particularly athletic, no prior injury, and am 31 - so unlikely to be overuse) - Punch biopsy on leg (no lesion or ulceration) showed perivascular erythrocyte extravasation, increased vessels, and subcutaneous fibrosis.
Recent tests (normal): - Chromogranin A: 64 (Normal range: 0 - 187 ng/mL) - Metanephrine, Free: 32 (Normal value: <=57 pg/mL)
Abnormal ** - Normetanephrine, Free: 382, ~3x elevated (Normal value: <=148 pg/mL) - Total, Free (Mn+Nmn): 414, ~2x elevated (Normal value: <=205 pg/mL) - Glucagon: <6, low (Normal range: 11 - 78 pg/mL) - Aldosterone, LC/MS: 102, ~5x elevated - Plasma Renin Activity, LC/MS/MS: 3.44 (Normal range: 0.25 - 5.82 ng/mL/h) - ARR: ~30
I understand this suggests adrenal dysfunction / potential tumor - my dr. has been vague as I am guessing he does not want to scare me but these odd results are causing even more anxiety as I don't understand the degree to which they are indicative of such. Next step is 24 hour urine.
More confusing, my Dengue antigen test came out quite high, though antibody low so no current infection. My symptoms began 3 days after a spending a week in USVI - a dengue epidemic. I did not have a typical fever but rashes look similar to "acute phase"... though 10 months later I still have these. I don't see much research on chronic Dengue that lasts this long, but timing seems way too coincidental. I was also put on immunosuppressants within a few weeks of this, so am wondering if it's crazy to think this may have caused long term vessel issues / immune deficiency / and proliferated potential tumors??