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New Bedford Highway Killer - Wikipedia
"The New Bedford Highway Killer is an unidentified serial killer responsible for the deaths of at least nine women and the disappearances of two additional women in New Bedford, Massachusetts, between March 1988 and April 1989.^\1]) The killer is also suspected to have assaulted numerous other women. All the killer's victims were known sex workers or had struggles with addiction. While the victims were taken from New Bedford, they were all found in different surrounding towns, including Dartmouth, Freetown and Westport, Massachusetts, along Route 140. The main detective that pursued the case was John Dextradeur.^\2])

1. Robbin Lynn Rhodes, 29, also referred to as “Bobbie Lynn” was found on March 28, 1989, along Route 140 southbound in Freetown by a search dog. She is believed to have gone missing sometime in March or April 1988. Rhodes had dated suspect Kenneth Ponte. She had a young child and was addicted to heroin and cocaine. While she was never involved in prostitution, she knew many of the other victims and was friends with victim Mary Rose Santos.^\3])
2. Rochelle Clifford Dopierala, 28, of Falmouth, disappeared sometime during late April 1988. Her body was found on December 10, 1988, in a gravel pit along Reed Road beneath a tree grove, about two miles from Interstate 195, by people riding ATVs. She was partially clothed and had been beaten to death. She had dated and stayed at the home of suspect Kenneth Ponte, who was arrested for her murder, but the charges were eventually dismissed due to a lack of evidence. This was the only time charges were brought in this case. Rochelle had testified against another man who had raped her, but he is not suspected in this case. She was last seen with victim Nancy Paiva’s boyfriend, an ex-convict. He was cleared in both deaths and is not a suspect.^\3])
3. Deborah Lynn McConnell, 25, of Newport, Rhode Island, was mother to one daughter. Deborah was last seen sometime in May 1988 by her father after the funeral of her mother at the local cemetery. She is believed to have been the third victim. Her body was found on December 1, 1988, off Route 140 northbound in Freetown, through a cadaver dog search. She was found nude with a bra wrapped around her neck.^\3])
4. Debra Medeiros, 29, of Fall River lived with her mother. Debra was known to both police and family to have had long standing substance abuse issues but no record for prostitution. She was last seen by her boyfriend in New Bedford after a fight, and was reported missing on May 27, 1988. She was the first of the bodies found and she was identified in December 1988. Her body was found on July 3, 1988, by a woman who went to relieve herself just in the woods on the side of the road on Interstate 140 in Freetown. Her remains were severely decomposed with her body positioned on her back with her feet pointed towards the highway. Her cause of death was strangulation, she had a bra wrapped around her neck, and she was found only partially clad. Her boyfriend was ruled out as a suspect. After her death, her mother counselled drug and alcohol addicts in honour of her daughter’s death.^\3])
5. Christina Monteiro, 19, was last seen sometime in May 1988 and has not been seen or heard from since. Christina had a child and had a known substance abuse history. She was a Cape Verdean American female with brown hair, brown eyes with scars on both wrists and a scar near her left eye. She was between 5’3 and 5’5 and was 110 lbs. She had initials and words tattooed on her arms. She was wearing a shirt, blue jeans and sneakers when she was last seen.^\3])
6. Marilyn Cardoza-Roberts, 34, was last seen sometime in June 1988 and has not been seen or heard from since. She was reported missing in December 1988. She was neighbours with victim Christina Monteiro, who is also still missing.^\3])
7. Nancy Lee Paiva, 36, of New Bedford, was last seen walking home from a bar called “Whisper’s Pub” on July 7, 1988, after a reported fight with her boyfriend in the South End in the early hours of the morning. Nancy reportedly had substance abuse issues but was not known to be a prostitute. Nancy had gone to secretarial school, but dropped out. She was married at 19, divorced and had two teenaged daughters. Nancy was known as a very supportive mother and grandmother. At the time of her death, she had a steady boyfriend, who was a drug dealer known to police. Her relationship with her boyfriend had been dysfunctional with domestic violence issues. Her nude body was discovered beside Interstate 195 Westbound in Dartmouth on July 30, 1988, by two men who were riding motorcycles. Her body was found in the same position as victim Debra Medeiro’s – on her back with her feet pointing towards the highway. Nancy’s cause of death was also believed to be strangulation. Her boyfriend is not a suspect in her death.^\3])
8. Debra Greenlaw Demello, 35, was a mother of three; a fifteen year old daughter, Chandra and two boys who were eight and three respectively at the time of her death. She had struggled with substance abuse issues since her teenage years. She had walked away from a prison work-release program to which she had been sentenced due to a prostitution charge on June 18 and was last seen in New Bedford, on July 11, 1988. Her body was found off the eastbound Reed Road ramp of Interstate 195 by a state highway crew on November 8, 1988. Debra’s nude body was in an area with trees with her clothing strewn in the branches. She was found with some belongings of another victim, Nancy Paiva.^\3])
9. Mary Rose Santos, 26, of New Bedford, was a mother of two, who was dropped off on July 16, 1988, by her husband, with whom she had recently reconciled, near the downtown bus station and last seen dancing at “The Old Quarterdeck Lounge” five hours later. Friends said her husband had no idea she was working the streets to help pay bills, and she was known to have a substance abuse issue. Mary Rose Santos’ nude body was found with a beer bottle on March 31, 1989, along Route 88 in Westport by two boys. Suspect Kenneth Ponte had represented Mary Santos in a civil case and helped her husband make flyers after her disappearance.^\3])
10. Sandra Botelho, 24, was a mother of two young sons who were both four and six-years-old. Botelho was known to have a significant substance abuse issue and engaged in prostitution. Botelho reportedly left her apartment on August 11, 1988, at 11 pm and never returned. She was the final body found, located in the woods along Interstate 195 in Marion on April 24, 1989. Her body was nude and reportedly was folded into a foetal position.^\3])
11. Dawn Mendes, 25, was last seen in New Bedford, on September 4, 1988, walking from her apartment to a family christening party. Mendes was one of ten children and was also the mother of a five-year-old boy. She had a history of prostitution and drug use. Her body was found on November 29, 1988, on the westbound Reed Road ramp off Interstate 195 by a search dog. There were mostly skeletal remains but her hand was able to yield a fingerprint which lead to her being identified. Her mother raised her son after her death.^\3])^"

Hear the Whisperings of the Soulmask
The sun was setting, casting long, warm shadows across the jagged peaks of the mountain range. A lone figure crouched low, their broad back hunched against the chill of the evening air. They were clad only in a loincloth and leather armor, their muscles tense as they gripped a battered wooden shield and a massive spear, its tip stained with the blood of countless enemies. A quiver of arrows was slung over their shoulder, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. This was Cid, the outcast of his CLAW tribe, banished for reasons he could no longer remember. His only purpose now was survival. And survival meant raiding the mountain fortress of his former brethren. Cid crept silently through the underbrush, his senses on high alert. The faint sound of drums echoed through the air, signaling the approach of a patrol. He tensed, ready to strike. As the patrol rounded a bend in the path, they caught sight of Cid and shouted a challenge. The outcast barbarian did not hesitate. With a primal roar, he charged forward, spear thrusting and shield arm blocking as the arrows rained down around him. His superior strength and agility soon became apparent, as he overpowered the surprised guards and continued deeper into the fortress. The sound of battle echoed through the mountains, and soon reinforcements were pouring in from all sides. Archers took to the walls, raining down arrows upon Cid as he fought his way through the main gate. He ducked and weaved, using his shield as a living shield against the deadly volleys. The ground beneath him grew slick with blood, both his own and that of his enemies. Cid's fury knew no bounds as he reached the inner sanctum of the fortress, where he knew the chieftain would be holed up. The air was thick with smoke from burning herbs, and the flickering light cast strange shadows across the walls adorned with the skulls of slain enemies. The chieftain stood before a great altar, his face painted with symbols of power and dominance. He held a ceremonial hammer, its edges glowing red-hot, as if forged in the fires of the mountain itself. As Cid closed in, the chieftain turned to face him, a sneer curling his lips. "So, you have come to die at my hands, outcast?" he mocked. "Very well. Then die you shall." With a mighty swing, the chieftain hurled the hammer at Cid's shield. The impact sent a shockwave through the outcast's body, but his grip did not waver. He thrust his spear forward, aiming for the chieftain's exposed throat. The chieftain dodged with surprising agility, and in the same motion, he counterattacked with a swift kick to Cid's shield arm. The outcast stumbled back, grunting in pain. The chieftain circled around him, his movements fluid and deadly. "You are no match for me, outcast," he hissed. "I am the true leader of this tribe, chosen by the gods themselves." Cid growled in response, his anger burning hotter than the lava that had birthed the mountain. He charged again, this time avoiding the chieftain's trap and landing a solid blow with his spear. The chieftain stumbled back, but did not fall. The battle raged on, the sounds of clashing metal and grunting warriors filling the air. Cid could feel the weight of his armor, the strain in his muscles, but he pushed forward. The chieftain was tiring too, however, and his movements were becoming less precise. Seeing an opening, Cid lunged, thrusting his spear at the chieftain's heart. The chieftain parried with his ceremonial hammer, but the force of the blow sent it flying from his grip. As it clattered to the ground, Cid stepped forward and drove his spear deep into the chieftain's chest. With a final gasp, the chieftain crumpled to the ground. The remaining guards, realizing they were defeated, threw down their weapons and surrendered. Cid stood over the body of the fallen chieftain, his chest heaving with exhaustion and victory. The fortress was silent now, save for the occasional groan from a wounded warrior. As he surveyed the carnage, Cid felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and despair. He had saved his people from the chieftain's tyranny, but at what cost? So many lives had been lost, and the wounds inflicted upon the tribe ran deep. He knew that the task of healing and rebuilding would be long and arduous. The surviving warriors looked to Cid, their faces a mix of relief and awe. They knew that he was now their leader, chosen by fate or the gods themselves. But Cid felt no pride in his new title. He knew only that he must guide his people through the darkness and back into the light. Cid knelt beside the chieftain's body, studying the symbols painted on his face. They were symbols of power, dominance, and control. Control that had been used to enslave his people for far too long. He wondered how such a man could have been chosen to lead. He turned to address the surviving warriors. "Today, we begin anew. We will rebuild our tribe, we will mend the wounds that have been inflicted, and we will find the way."

Prefacing this by saying I have a lot of weird allergies and OAS. Never had anaphylaxis but I seem to react to all sorts of things that hardly anyone is allergic to, like aloe vera. I kind of wonder how many of my allergies are "true" allergies or if I might have some kind of mast cell issue.
Anyway. A year or two ago I started taking a B complex gummy supplement and after a few weeks, I broke out in an itchy eczema-like rash on the back of my hand. It got better when I stopped the supplement. I figured it was an additive that I was reacting to. I bought regular B12 tablets and the rash returned, then cleared up again after I stopped. Both were different forms of B12.
I experienced similar reactions later to foods containing added B12. I started drinking Red Bull and didn't realize it had B12 in it. After a few days, I started to break out in the same rash, and I noticed my mouth and throat burned when I swallowed the drink. Then earlier this week I noticed my lower lip was itchy/irritated and I had some inflamed tastebuds on the side of my tongue. I've recently been eating a lot of Rice Chex. Checked the ingredients, and it's fortified with B12. I think it's safe to conclude at this point that my body doesn't like elemental B12.
What really concerns me is I've started noticing mild oral reactions to foods that are high in B12, including seaweed, tuna, and salmon. Salmon has always bothered me but tuna and seaweed didn't until recently.
Has anyone heard of anything like this? A quick Google search shows B12 allergies as being exceedingly rare. No idea if I'm allergic to cobalt as I don't come into contact with it in my daily life.
So... yeah, this is really weird. Unfortunately I don't have the time or money to see an allergist right now due to a dozen other more pressing medical things but I plan to.

On that morning, I found myself in a science class. The details of the assignment escape me now, for all that remains etched in my memory is the intense dread that was about to unfold. In the blink of an eye, everything changed. The events that ensued happened so quickly.
It was awesome in the way that it was awe-inspiring, but the awe was for the sheer magnitude of abject fear. Without warning, my ears popped from a sudden and drastic change in air pressure. In the following instant, a jarring rumble shook the entire classroom, accompanied by a deafening blast that robbed me of breath. Instinctively, we abandoned our unfinished finals and we hastily made our way toward the aisle between the rows of desks, surprisingly maintaining a semblance of order.
The blaring fire alarm pierced through the air as our teacher wasted no time in guiding us out of the classroom. I felt like a lamb lead to slaughter. We followed the teachers' lead, navigating the corridors toward the nearest exit. As I turned a corner, my mother's classroom came into full view, and what I beheld was a nightmare made manifest.
A surreal terror gripped me, freezing me in place. My mother's classroom door, blown off its hinges, lay against the opposing wall in a splintered heap. The space between the door and frame was filled with an enraged inferno, desperately and forcefully bellowing from within. I was the observer who was now left to bear witness to this wake.
I don't know what compelled me to charge into that blazing fortress. Was it a delusion of invincibility? A desperate belief that I could save her like a superhero? Or was it a simple act of need, driven by an unexplainable force? I cannot say.
I pushed through the wall of flames and smoke, and I descended the staircase in a manner fitting of an infant; erratic, frantic, and without coordination. And there, at the bottom step, an unusual coldness enveloped me. Though darkness cast by the smoke enveloped everything, a faint glimmer from a small window illuminated my mother's desk.
A person who was wailing in apparent agony was across the room, however. The acrid stench of burning flesh and hair assaulted my senses, threatening to overpower me. Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, granting me an unwelcome gift of sight. The horrifying images etched themselves deeply into my psyche—charred bodies strewn across the floor, their limbs twisted and contorted. Some still smoldered, consumed by thin lines of crimson crawling greedily along their blackened skin, reduced to ash.
The scene was catastrophic.
It was repulsive.
A nauseating sensation crept up from within, that familiar prelude to vomiting. I fought to suppress it, driven by a compelling instinct to find the crying emanating from an overturned desk in the far corner of the room.
"That must be my mom... she's still alive!" I thought so naively.
My path was obstructed by the lifeless forms of a classmates.Deep down, my gut warned me to leave the scene to my imagination, but I ignored its plea. Almost reaching the desk, my attention was drawn to yet another body lying in my path. This one was slightly larger than the others. It took only a moment to realize the unthinkable—this was my mother. Her right side was gruesomely absent, her eyes clouded with milky white, and her jaw hung slack. She had lost an arm... and a leg.
Dead.
My mother lay lifeless at my feet.
The sound of sobbing erupted again, originating from behind the desk. No discernible words, just heartbreaking sobs. Setting aside my grief for the moment, cloaked in shock, I left my mother's side to aid this person. The true magnitude of the disaster had not yet fully sunk in, the rationalization that no human could have survived.
The crying grew louder as I approached, echoing not only in my ears but in my thoughts. It drowned out the clamor of the alarms, urging me to forward. It was as if I had been ensnared in a waking dream, where the cries became my sole focus, blotting out everything else.
Reaching the desk, I cautiously peered behind it, my eyes drawn to a huddled figure in the corner. His blackened skin mirrored the others, and he possessed little remaining hair. Tremors coursed through his body as he faced the wall, his arms extended limply, hands hanging delicately from his forearms.
"HEY," I yelled, "We have to get out! There's a gas leak!" No response. Perhaps the explosion had damaged his hearing.
Instinctively, I reached out and grasped his hand. The moment our skin made contact, the crying ceased, and the tremors subsided. A new sense of startled unease washed over me. Slowly, he began to turn his head towards me, his neck moving with jerky, disjointed snaps. And then, I beheld his face. Wet leathery skin clung to his emaciated skull, while his wide eyes, milky grey and white, mirrored my mother's. Through a slackened jaw, browned teeth peered out of a mouth devoid of lips. His broken nose sat withered upon his face. His leathery skin continued down his nude and skeletal frame, with patches peeling off, revealing a putrid yellow fluid oozing from the infected wounds.
I stood there in shock, witnessing his convulsions and heaves. His head, rocking like that of a newborn, fixated on me. He took a long ragged, strained breath and released a sound unlike anything I had ever heard before. No, that's not the right way to describe it. The sound triggered a sensation within me, a feeling that wasn't entirely my own. I was engulfed by an overwhelming grief, an intense pain that consumed me entirely. Guilt as I had never known flooded me, threatening to drown me in its depths.
I recoiled from the desk, stumbling backward until I fell onto my mother's charred remains. A cloud of ash billowed forth, caressing my face as I gasped for air. I inadvertently inhaled the plume of my mother's ash. I vomited, tears and bile streaming uncontrollably. I began crawling on hands and knees as I distanced myself from the nightmare.
I crawled, then ran once I regained my footing. I ran out of that room, through the engulfing flames, through the school, and past my bewildered classmates.
Just keep running.
Eventually, I collapsed in a local park, where the police discovered me. I remember the cold, crisp grass caressing my face, leaving behind wet stains from its melting lash.
The officer who found me sat silently beside me in the field, offering no words of advice or encouragement but his simple presence was comforting in hindsight. He didn't rush me even when we both were shivering to our core once the cold lay with our bones.While the officer drove me home, I awoke to a reality that felt both distant and surreal. The following year slipped away in a haze, an amalgamation of twisting memories and blurred moments.
I found myself residing in my mother's home, under the temporary custody of my aunt and uncle. My aunt handed me a substantial sum of cash from the life insurance payout. It was an overwhelming amount for a seventeen-year-old to possess while grappling with the weight of responsibility. I failed so miserably.
The passing months merged, as if time itself was nothing more than a fleeting illusion. I teetered on the precipice, constantly oscillating between moments of intoxication and near unconsciousness. My days were spent in a perpetual state of chasing a fragile equilibrium. And so, as predictable and anticlimactic as it may sound, I succumbed to the overwhelming grip of a heroin overdose.
It was my aunt who discovered me in that state, a sight she never deserved to witness. She was far too good to be exposed to the wretchedness that had consumed me.
Preparing the syringe, I found a suitable vein, and sent the liquid bliss coursing through my veins. Was it my fifth hit? Sixth? More than I had ever done before. The rush surged through my body with an intensity I couldn't handle. My balance faltered, and I collapsed onto the couch, my head spinning in a disorienting haze. I slipped into unconsciousness, unaware of the vomit that spilled forth from my mouth. At the moment, I believe I was on the brink of death.
I vaguely remember my aunt's scream as she walked through the front door. I'm sure I looked just like the death I was longing for.
Rehabilitation became an inevitable path I had to tread, accompanied by a watchful eye to prevent any further harm. I grappled with a profound sense of worthlessness, despite the earnest efforts of those around me. Weeks bled into months, and progress towards my recovery became a slow, agonizing burn. No matter the tools and coping mechanisms I acquired, no matter the mental acrobatics I performed, I found myself sinking deeper into the abyss.
The insidious cravings for substances clung to my heart with sickening tenacity.
Over the following year, I retreated into seclusion. Depression became my constant companion, blurring the days together into an indistinguishable haze. I traded one vice for countless others, escaping reality through endless hours of pornography and video games, despising every fiber of my existence late into the solitary nights. Even in sleep, I found no respite.
My nights were tormented by relentless nightmares, unyielding in their pursuit of stealing away what little rest I had left. At my emotional nadir, I ceased to care for even my most basic needs. My body, an instrument of survival, was now perpetually hunched, bent by the weight of my deteriorating state. I had become a repugnant wreck, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within my mind. I was a mirror reflecting the distorted image of my decayed mentality.
The battle against my demons was impossible, and I was losing myself in the process. My life soon embarked on a transformative journey though, emerging from the tattered remnants of an existence that had unwittingly become my solace.
It began with a simple spark, an eruption of laughter that echoed through the air.
It was not a mere chuckle or a fleeting smirk; it was a belly-deep laugh that reverberated within me. The sound itself felt foreign, stirring a mixture of confusion and exhilaration. At that moment, I felt an immense pride swell within me.
Soon after, I shed my former self, transitioning from a reanimated corpse to an animated being. My newfound addiction became growth, and I pursued it with unwavering fervor. I constructed a fortress, a barricade capable of withstanding the relentless onslaught of my mind. I tamed the internal chaos that had consumed me, gradually reclaiming control over my destiny. With every step, I crawled my way up that treacherous mountain, resolute and unyielding.
Knowing that I had to venture beyond the confines of my childhood home to nurture my emotional development, I made a decision without hesitation. I relinquished my home to my aunt, packed my belongings, and began a new chapter with a journey to Florida.
I found refuge in a modest vacation cabin nestled amidst the serenity of the Everglades. I resided in splendid isolation. There were no neighbors for miles around, and the land I occupied belonged to a kind couple who were seldom present. The cabin was ensconced within a dense, humid forest—a lush sanctuary that provided me ample opportunity to confront my innermost thoughts, contributing to the arduous path of my recovery. Though the reclusive lifestyle persisted, I reveled in newfound freedom. The forest that encircled me was a testament to nature's magnificence.
It thrived with resplendent beauty, teeming with life and vibrant hues. The symphony of birdsong permeated the air, intertwining with the gentle hum of insects as the sun gracefully bid farewell to the sky, descending beyond the western horizon. It was a captivating contrast to the desolate nights I had once known. Occasionally, I would venture to an ocean-fed creek a mere stone's throw away from my dwelling, indulging in the peaceful art of fishing.
It was precisely what I had yearned for.
My life had become my own once again. Though the memories of that fateful night still carried a tinge of pain, they had become more bearable, more manageable. I was on the cusp of uttering those elusive words: "I am happy."
Until the nightly lamentations returned, the anguished cries piercing the silence, a relentless reminder of the entity that hunted me.
Sleep became an elusive luxury, for as darkness descended, the haunting wails shattered any chance of rest. The cries persisted, growing louder with each passing week. They invaded my sleepless nights, penetrating the silence of my room. I lay there, consumed by desperation, pleading for the torment to cease.
The cries filled my head and blocked out everything. It forced me to feel a torrent of forgotten pain. My barricade was fracturing. My rancor was waking up. My war returned with a windfall that left me breathless.
I broke so quickly.
So quietly.
Like sand in the palm of my hands, my joy slipped away through my fingers. My laugh died in my throat. The cries became a force that unleashed a deluge of forgotten anguish, shattering the barricade I had erected. Fatigue wore me down, transforming me into a mere shadow of my former self.
I became a captive in my mind. Yet, within the depths of my despair, a spark of hope still waivered amidst the chaos. I vowed to confront the source of this nocturnal torment, to unravel its strangling grip on my life. Then, one fateful night, I stirred from a nap that had inadvertently consumed me.
A strange sensation tugged at my mind, rousing me from my slumber. The room was shrouded in an eerie silence, the clock displaying the time as 1:26 am. With a sense of cautious curiosity, I rose from my seat and made my way toward the front door, spurred by a newfound audacity.
Perhaps I believed that by directly confronting this apparition, I could dispel my fears and bring an end to my relentless experience.
That night, the air was eerily calm, devoid of the usual screams. I pressed my face against the small window on the door, peering into the darkness beyond, half-expecting to find only an indistinct shadow. But to my astonishment, there it stood, staring back at me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. Our faces were separated by a mere fraction of an inch of glass, locked in a macabre face-to-face encounter. A cacophony of screams erupted, shattering the once-tranquil air and sending tremors through the very foundation of my home.
The feeble glow from the kitchen illuminated his face, etching its haunting contours deep within the recesses of my mind. His quivering jaw moved erratically, a grotesque dance of opening and closing with each labored breath. Each exhale birthed a clinging mist, smearing the glass with intricate patterns reminiscent of inkblots, transforming its pristine surface into a testament of eerie artistry.
His vacant eyes remained fixed ahead, devoid of recognition as if ensnared within the merciless clutches of unyielding madness. With unsteady steps, he gradually retreated, his form eventually shrinking into a crouched position mere feet away from my door. There was no denying the undeniable presence before me. Fear, curiosity, and a twisted fascination intertwined within me, forming a turbulent whirlwind of conflicting impulses.
Who was he? What did he want? Questions plagued my mind, but answers eluded me. It was as if this apparition had materialized from the depths of my darkest nightmares, haunting my reality with its unsettling presence.
Though an unsettling truth sat within me, there was no denying the raw reality of his existence. This was no figment of my imagination; it was a chilling encounter with a realm beyond comprehension. My scream tore through the air, an instinctual response fueled by a surge of primal emotions. No coherent words could encapsulate the overwhelming turmoil within me.
I had escaped across the country to flee from this torment, yet here it was, huddled just feet away, mocking my desperate attempt at solace.
It felt like a cruel joke my own mind was playing on me. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" I shouted, my voice cracking as tears streamed down my face.
"PLEASE, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" My cries resembled the agonized wails of a wounded and trapped animal, raw and untamed.
Outside, the creature continued its relentless screams, rising to its feet with an eerie, disjointed movement. It approached my door, its contorted posture resembling a grotesque bending of the body, skin tearing as it leaned. Yellow fluid oozed from its wounds.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" I yelled again, unleashing a surge of pent-up emotion that had been dormant for far too long.
But my plea fell upon rotting ears that could not comprehend or sympathize. It reached my door. I had rehearsed this moment in my mind during my early days in the forest.
Over and over, I had imagined how I would confront and eradicate this embodiment of my deteriorating sanity. Suicide was not my desire, but I had chosen this entity as the symbol of my mental decline, the entity that needed to be eliminated. Driven by panic and instinct, I grabbed the fire axe hanging above my table, my body moving mechanically as I propelled myself toward the barrier that separated us. A wordless scream of terror, revulsion, and hatred erupted from deep within me as I crashed through the door, my clenched teeth unable to contain the overwhelming intensity of my emotions.
The creature was struck by the door, its body forcefully pushed backward, eliciting a feral gasp from its throat. Now, I was determined to end it.
"Kill it." "Kill me." "Candle." "KILL." The words reverberated in an unsettling loop within my mind, out of sync with each other, fueling my purpose as I prepared to face the culmination of my anguish.
In a whirlwind of uncontrolled movement, I tumbled down the steps, my body flailing as I crashed onto the unyielding ground. Before I could fully process the fall, I found myself on my feet, instinctively rising without conscious thought.
And there it was, face to face with me, its breath uncomfortably warm and sticky against my skin. The putrid stench of decay invaded my nostrils, causing me to recoil in fear and repulsion. Backing up until I was pressed against the wall of my house, I felt my courage waver, my resolve crumble. I realized I was not strong enough, not capable of facing this. Then, it screamed, convulsed, and trembled before me, its milky eyes fixed on an unseen horizon.
Its hands stretched out, reaching for something beyond my comprehension. With that scream, a surge of courage and rage flooded my being. It was the same as it had been all those years ago in the school, an overwhelming flood of emotions that were not truly mine to feel.
It's difficult to articulate, but I embodied those emotions and allowed them to engulf me, to consume me.
"Kill."
The word reverberated relentlessly in my mind. Springing forward with a primal scream, I swung the axe with all my might, the blade sinking deep into its side. The sensation of bone deflecting the force of my strike is etched into my memory, never to be forgotten.
Blood and other fluids sprayed from the wound as it took a few faltering steps to the side, pushed by the momentum of my assault. The creature ceased its cries, its tremors, its breath. Time stood still as it finally turned to look at me. Fear rooted me in place, holding me captive in its gaze. We stared at each other, locked in a moment that felt like an eternity.
Foul breath washed over me once more, seeping into my senses. Beyond that, nothing happened. We simply stood there, locked in a silent exchange. I willed my frozen bones to thaw, my mind transitioning from terror and frenzied rage to... something else.
It wasn't pride, but rather a different, indescribable emotion. Yet, it carried a sense of triumph, I believe.
Unbeknownst to me, it had reached out and gently grasped my arm, its touch going unnoticed until it began to speak.
"I never... meant to... scare you..." he rasped, his voice torn and ragged, struggling to emerge between shallow breaths. "I'm sorry... this has to... happen to... you..." its words filled with agony and desperation. Tears welled up in its eyes, a flicker of pain crossing its face as its ragged hand clutched at the axe lodged in its new laceration. "Please... kill... me..." he wheezed, his plea reverberating in my mind and reaching my ears simultaneously. With its other hand, it gripped the axe and brought the blade to its neck. "Kill me... candle... kill. NOW!"
The final word echoed like an explosion within my head as its hand pressed against my face. Everything plunged into darkness for a fragmented moment as I swung the axe. Suddenly, I felt myself hurtling through space, a void engulfing me. The air grew cold, and the wind whipped past, intensifying the disorienting descent.
I screamed in a frenzy of confusion and terror, my voice lost in the abyss. Downward I plummeted, faster and faster, the nauseating sensation overwhelming me. In the distance, far below, a growing light pierced through the darkness. Fresh tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision and making it difficult to gauge the proximity of the light, and how much time remained before I would be halted by the unforgiving ground. But it was rapidly approaching.
I squeezed my eyes shut, unleashing a defiant scream that echoed through the void. In the face of imminent death, I summoned every ounce of defiance within me. "I want to live." The words echoed in my mind, a fervent plea repeating like a mantra. I curled into a protective ball, bracing myself for the impending impact that would mark my brutal end.
Seconds stretched into eternity as I awaited the inevitable. Then, with a soft and gentle thud, I collided with the ground, the impact far less severe than anticipated. A feeble whimper escaped me, carrying away the remnants of my shattered pride. Slowly, I uncoiled my limbs and remained still, a mix of confusion and exhaustion paralyzing me.
Was this death? Or had I somehow managed to survive? At the very least, I was conscious. I reached out with my hands, feeling the texture of the hardwood floor beneath me. Rolling onto my back, I extended my arms as far as they would go, searching for walls that eluded my touch, instead only finding a formless nothingness. I released a weak, triumphant sigh, throwing my arm in the air, and darkness claimed me once more, my consciousness slipping away.
When I awoke, I found myself in an unfamiliar hallway, illuminated by an ethereal light. Glancing around from my position on the floor, I took in the details of my surroundings. The hallway stretched endlessly in both directions, its warped and aged dark wood floors covered in a thick layer of dust.
On each side of me, two doors stood, adorned with handles veiled in shadows. Illuminated by flickering candles, the doors cast dancing shadows on the faded white paint. Ornate red and gold walls framed the hall, extending into the distance without interruption.
The air hung still, thin, and cold, creating an atmosphere of eerie stillness. Summoning my strength, I pushed myself upright, drawing a reflexive breath, only to find that my lungs refused to cooperate. I couldn't draw in the air, an unsettling revelation that further shook my already fragile state. Yet, amidst the disquietude, an unexpected acceptance settled upon me.
"Maybe I truly am dead," I mused, "and perhaps this is limbo or some other realm beyond the realm of the living."
Standing before the doors, I reached out and brushed off the accumulated dust, my fingers tracing patterns on the bronzed knobs. With hopeful anticipation, I attempted to turn the knob of the door on my right, but it remained resolute, refusing to yield.
Disheartened, I turned my attention to the door on my left, hoping for a different outcome. Yet, once again, my efforts proved fruitless. The doors remained firmly shut, denying me entry. A sense of resignation settled over me as I contemplated the possibility that I had indeed entered a realm of limbo or purgatory, where the deceased wander aimlessly, seeking answers and respite.
If there were lessons to be learned or tasks to be fulfilled, I had yet to discover them. But the absence of purpose, the prospect of eternal nothingness, weighed heavily on my soul. With a deep breath, I made the conscious decision to venture further into the darkness, forsaking the dwindling light behind me. Hours turned into an indeterminate passage of time as I traversed the boundless corridor, my hand tracing the cold surface of the wall for guidance.
Fatigue and hunger eluded me, further reinforcing the notion that I had in fact died.
If this was the extent of my existence, an eternal cycle of aimless wandering, I yearned for something more. The prospect of mere nothingness, devoid of purpose or meaning, felt like a reality abandoned by the gods themselves. Determination and desperation mingled within me, urging me to maintain my pace and to keep moving forward despite the gnawing uncertainty.
And then, a sudden burst of light ruptured the darkness behind me, catching me off guard. The icy tendrils of fear gripped my chest, causing me to flail and stumble, my yelp swallowed by the void. With a surprising display of grace, I rolled with the fall and swiftly turned around, propelled by a desperate longing. Desperation fueled my actions as I lunged for the handle of the nearest door, seeking an anchor to halt my momentum.
The handle remained steadfast, unyielding, as it abruptly halted my chaotic trajectory. Reality began to fracture, the veil of ignorance slowly lifting. Could I truly be dead? The realization dawned upon me, shattering the feeble illusion of safety and acceptance.
I wasn't okay. I wasn't safe. The weight of my unease bore down upon me, threatening to consume what little resolve remained. In the face of uncertainty, I whispered the truth that echoed within my being:
"I'm not okay."
With a surge of determination, I clutched the doorknob with both hands, pouring every ounce of strength into my attempt to pry it open. I threw my weight against the door, pulled, hit, kicked, and pleaded in a desperate frenzy.
But the door remained steadfast, unyielding to my relentless assault. Exhausted and defeated, I crumpled against the door, collapsing to my knees, and buried my face in my folded arms. The tears flowed freely once again as a sense of hopelessness enveloped me.
What was the point? There was nowhere to go, no escape from this interminable realm. I was trapped, imprisoned within my own personal purgatory. This was my punishment.
I rolled onto my side, curling into a tight ball, clutching my legs close to my chest. I surrendered to the inertia that consumed me. I ceased all efforts, resigned to my fate. Time lost all meaning as I lay there, motionless, accumulating layers of dust upon my immobile body.
Months or perhaps years passed in this stagnant state. The weight of my surrender bore down upon me, and I grew stagnant in body and spirit.
But amidst the stillness, a small voice emerged from the depths of my being, offering shards of defiance. It urged me to continue, questioning why I should give up. The relentless nagging of that voice eroded the staleness of my resolve.
And so, with great effort, I yielded to the persistent beckoning within. I began to stir, my brittle bones creaking and cracking in response to the tentative movements. Every inch of my being protested, muscles screaming in protest, as I defied the inertia that had held me captive. The desire for something different, something more, ignited within me.
My body clung stubbornly to the remnants of my self-imposed stagnation, resisting the momentum of my will. But I knew I had to move. "Just move." I whispered those two simple words to myself, a mantra to defy the stillness.
And with each painful twitch and every tear in my flesh, I pressed forward, compelled by the belief that there had to be more to this existence. The hallway, once shrouded in darkness, was now ablaze with the furious glow of burning candles, illuminating every inch of the endless walls adorned with white doors.
Shielding my eyes from the searing exposure, I recoiled from the scorching heat that radiated from the flames. The blinding light pierced through the cracks between my fingers, growing in intensity with each passing moment. But as I cautiously peered through the gaps in my fingers, a sight greeted me that filled my heart with renewed hope.
There, at the end of the hallway, lay a continuation beyond the confines I had known. A surge of determination coursed through my veins, igniting a fire within my soul. Clinging to the wall for support, I willed my feeble legs to carry me forward, pushing past the pain that resonated with each step. I moved with a shaky shuffle that evolved into a stiff, determined speed walk.
In retrospect, I can only imagine the nightmarish image I presented. But at that moment, all I wanted was to reach the end, to embrace the promise it held.
With each passing door, I caught glimpses of their numbered plaques. 37, 39, 41, 43... The numbers ascended, propelling me forward as I squeezed my eyes shut, running with unwavering determination. The intensity of the light multiplied, searing through my closed eyelids, triggering a symphony of pain that reverberated through every fiber of my being.
Perhaps I should have gauged the distance to the end, but in my blind pursuit, I collided with the wall with a resounding thud. The impact broke my nose, sending shockwaves of agony coursing through me, and I tumbled to the floor, disoriented and wounded.
As my body sprawled upon the ground, the once-illuminated candles in the hallway extinguished one by one, enveloping the space behind me in impenetrable darkness.
Yet, amidst the obscurity, one candle remained defiantly aflame—the candle beside the door labeled #158. Its flickering glow drew my gaze, anchoring me to the present. Candle. The word reverberated within the recesses of my mind, its significance echoing relentlessly. And then, like a distant echo from the past, a strained and familiar voice permeated my thoughts.
"Kill Candle," it urged, a haunting reminder of the encounters I had faced. The voice, bearing the same ragged quality that had sent chills down my spine before, emerged from the darkness, piercing the silence with its command.
A low, ominous rumble stirred in the distance, a sound foreign and unsettling to my ears. It started as a mere murmur, barely perceptible, but gradually swelled in volume, intensifying with each passing moment. The air itself seemed to thicken with unsettling energy, a growing force that permeated the surroundings. It was the sound of impending doom, a creeping darkness that threatened to swallow everything in its path. As the rumble resonated through the depths of my being, a profound unease settled within me.
It crawled beneath my skin, coiling around my bones with a chilling grip. The sensation of impending nothingness clawed at my very core, filling me with a deep-seated dread. It was a fear unlike any I had ever experienced, a realization that I stood at the precipice of an inevitable and irrevocable end.
The weight of this knowledge settled heavily in the pit of my stomach, a visceral stab of anxiety that sent tremors through my entire being. It was a fallible end, an abrupt cessation that promised a complete and utter halt to existence.
Each passing second amplified the intensity of this foreboding, like a storm gathering strength before it unleashes its fury. The world around me seemed to hold its breath as if bracing for the impending collision with an unimaginable void. In the face of this encroaching darkness, I stood transfixed, caught between fight and flight. The rumble grew louder, reverberating with an eerie resonance as if the very fabric of reality quivered under its weight.
It was a sound that defied explanation, an insidious reminder of the fragility of existence. And as the seconds ticked by, each one laden with a mounting sense of doom, I could not shake the feeling that something irrevocable was drawing near.
With trembling hands, I clutched the doorknob, desperately trying to twist it open. But it remained stubbornly locked, unmoving against my frantic efforts. The rumble grew louder, reverberating through the corridor, an unstoppable force closing in on me. Panic surged within me, urging me to shake the door with wild desperation.
But still, it resisted, unyielding to my futile attempts. "Kill. Candle." The words thundered in my mind, echoing over the impending chaos that threatened to consume me. It was a command, a directive to extinguish the flame. In a moment of clarity amidst the chaos, I realized what I had to do. I reached out, smothering the candle's flame with my bare hand.
And at last, the door swung open, as if I had unlocked an ethereal barrier. But as the door gave way, I was violently thrust forward, pulled into the void that lay beyond. The deafening roar receded, replaced by a disorienting rush of motion as I spun and flailed, completely at the mercy of the unseen forces at play. Control slipped from my grasp once more, leaving me to surrender to the unknown. Abruptly, the tumult ceased, and I found myself standing outside my own house, a surreal tableau frozen in time.
There, I witnessed an enigmatic moment, a version of myself suspended mid-swing, the axe poised to strike the creature's neck. It was a fractured moment of the reality I had left behind, a moment frozen in space and time.
Taking a hesitant step forward, I was abruptly hurled back into my own body, the fractured fragments of my existence reuniting. Time resumed its course, and I felt the weight of the axe as it carried out its intended purpose.
The blade connected with a solid, metallic impact, tearing a new rift in the fabric of reality. I was again plunged into a jarring darkness, the whirlwind of confusion was the only thing familiar anymore. My axe had struck something tangible, something solid.
The musty scent of familiarity, reminiscent of my high school days, filled the air, punctuating the otherwise suffocating silence. In an instant, my vision returned, but with a disorienting rush accompanied by dizzying vertigo.
I found myself standing in the classroom where my mother used to teach, a place I hadn't set foot in for years. Confusion clouded my thoughts as I turned my gaze to the left, and there she was, my mother, staring at me in disbelief.
A collective gasp rose from the students, their eyes fixed upon me with a mixture of fear and horror. The weight of their stares pressed upon me, making me acutely aware of the unusual circumstances I found myself in. At that moment, my attention was drawn to my own hands in an unfitting sense of embarrassment. And there, I noticed the axe embedded in the gas line, emitting an ominous hiss that sliced through the eerie silence.
My eyes darted back to my mother, and on her desk, illuminated by a solitary burning candle, my gaze fixated. The word echoed relentlessly in my mind, its significance growing with each repetition.
"Candle. The candle. The candle..."
In a reflexive surge of urgency, I released my grip on the axe, discarding any semblance of thought, and propelled myself toward the desk, driven by a desperate need to extinguish the flame.
But my efforts were in vain, for as my fingers reached out, a catastrophic chain of events unfurled before me. In an instant, the classroom erupted in a fierce conflagration, an inferno that devoured everything in its path. The sheer force of the explosion shook the very foundation of reality, hurling me against a wall, my body crumpling behind a nearby desk.
Charred and broken, my form bore the scars of the blast, yet my consciousness stubbornly clung on. I felt pain unparalleled to any other I'd experienced so far. Amid the chaos, I gathered myself and began to crawl toward my mother's mangled figure. She lay there, torn asunder, yet desperately still clinging to life.
With every ounce of strength left in me, I painstakingly dragged my injured body toward her, my movements a testament to sheer determination. My hand reached out, seeking connection, but instead encountered a severed limb.
Undeterred, I reached my mother and she extended her remaining arm, seizing my hand with a desperate grasp, our bond unbroken even in the face of such devastation. "Mom!" I sobbed, my voice choked with anguish. Tears streamed down my face as I knelt over her broken form. "Mom... I'm sorry!" I cried out, my words punctuated by deep sobs.
"I'm so sorry, Mom!"
Her eyes met mine, and in that delicate moment, she mustered all she had to utter a sweet whisper. "I love you," she managed, a feeble attempt at a smile gracing her lips.
But as her grip weakened, her hand slipped away, surrendering to the pull of gravity. I collapsed once more, pressing my head against her scorching shoulder, the flames from her burning clothes licking at my tear-soaked eyes.
At that moment, the searing pain of loss eclipsed any physical pain I might have felt. A surge of bile rose in my throat as the full weight of the tragedy unfolded upon me. The realization struck with cruel clarity—I hadn't succeeded in extinguishing the candle.
I had failed once again, repeating the cycle for the 158th time. The weight of my failure bore down on me, crushing my soul into a cloud of fine dust to be carried away with the hellfire that consumed my surroundings. I needed to escape from the desolation I had wrought.
Crawling on hands stained with her blood, I retreated to the corner of the room, seeking refuge behind a desk. My arms hung limply at my sides, my body trembling with a mixture of guilt and revulsion. I didn't want to touch anything, especially not myself. I recoiled from my own skin, my hands, the instruments of her demise. I wanted to shed my skin as it pressed its decrepit form ever closer to my heart.
"I killed my mom," I whispered, the words heavy with self-condemnation. I trembled uncontrollably, consumed by my otherworldly screams of anguish and sorrow that shattered the air. Suddenly, a voice pierced the chaos from behind me.
"Hey!" it yelled urgently. "We have to get out! There's a gas leak!" A hand reached out and grabbed mine. As I turned to face the source, a jolt of recognition coursed through me—I was staring at myself. Another version of me, yet somehow different, younger. At that moment, I realized with terror that I had become the embodiment of the nightmare.
I screamed a primal cry of disgust and horror, forcing the other me to retreat in a frightened flurry. Days have passed since then.
I write these words with dwindling autonomy, pleading for help, for someone to find me, the other me.
Find him. I beg you, whoever reads this, to search for him, and tell him what he must do. Please, tell me what I must do. The grip on my self-control weakens with each passing moment. The relentless compulsion to find the other version of myself consumes my every thought. I fear I can no longer hold myself back for another day. I need to give you more time. I need more time. He needs to break this cycle.
He must reach the candle.

Hi! I’m a new studio owner with 8+ years of teaching experience. I taught an intermediate/advanced class today and had a new ClassPass student. My other 3 students were people I know and have taught before. I’m trying to wrap my head around what went wrong with this new student and how to handle it. I’m a PT and like to ask new students if they have anything I should know about their body (osteoporosis, hip replacement, spondylolisthesis etc that may make certain exercises contraindicated. This student said she has a diastasis. But says she has done reformer Pilates. Okay, no teaser. Had planned on having them do it on the long box without the straps to prep my regular students to eventually use the straps. So we did some footwork, single leg variation, then supine arms into supine abs- adding chest lift but offered option to keep head down. Go into coordination, saying it can be done with head down. I start to teach it, which is difficult because you have to cue each movement precisely, the whole thing of both arms and legs reaching together but then just the knees bend, then the elbows bend always throws people off but is part of why it’s a great exercise. She interrupts me to say her springs are too heavy. It just threw me because I had my other students up in the start position of chest lifted, elbows and knees bent ready to go. So then I’m like okay guys rest for a moment while I change the springs. Then we did semi-circle, then feet in straps frogs to prep for short spine. Everything here is fine. Then into long spine. She says her back hurts in long spine. I asked if it hurt during short spine, she said no, so I said keep doing that. We did 4 of each. Then prone work on the long box. I like to prep with hands on the frame to pull into thoracic extension before I teach pulling straps. I had them on a red spring, she got up and changed to a blue. I teach this all the time, this is the first time anyone has had a hard time with a red spring. So, that’s fine. We do pulling straps, her form isn’t great. Then into quadruped on carriage shoulder extension on a blue spring. She just stops and says she can’t keep neutral. So I’m like okay, both hands down hip extension. My other students are rocking it, added a hold with opposite leg reach for balance challenge. So at this point I scrap my plan of teaching jackrabbit, option for single leg, into Arabesque. We do standing side split series, then scooter and standing hip stretch to finish.
So looking back I already scaled the class back for this student and she still couldn’t handle it. To me the exercises I taught are pretty intermediate. Like nothing was really even that advanced. So she obviously shouldn’t have signed up for this class.
My first reaction was just that this sucks. I love teaching but this student was having such a hard time and obviously having a negative experience that it impacted the whole energy of the class. Then I worry she’s going to give me a bad review. Then I think to myself, that really doesn’t matter, what matters is that my ultimate goal in teaching is to provide positive movement experiences and I failed at that with this student. But looking back I think I did everything I could to maintain the integrity of the class for the other participants while also dealing with this students struggles. So, should I let this go? Should I email this student? If so what do I even say? Is there a way to prevent this from happening again? Should I change it to say advanced? Right now I offer beginner, beginner-intermediate, and intermediate-advanced.
Any advice from fellow teachers and studio owners is very appreciated! Thank you!

Has anyone been diagnosed at 50 or older? I have trigeminal neuralgia a left hand tremor. My head started tremoring rapidly in a small up and down pattern and doesn’t stop. I am getting electric shocks in both palms and also my thumbs, index and middle fingers sometimes in my Pinky. I can actually feel the nerve path as it’s happening. It’s a jolt. My left hand is swollen as well. Like it is retaining water. And today I have jelly legs. I start walking and my thighs down to my knees feel like I just got off a 20 mile bike ride. I am walking slower so I don’t fall. My working memory and recall are in horrible shape. I can see lesions on my cervical spine mri. All of that however, in my neurologist’s notes it states ms is unlikely due to patients age being in the fifth decade. She hasn’t seen my brain mri yet because where I got it done and where she works are two different hospital networks. And my Spine mri was done by my neurosurgeon in December and again she hasn’t seem it yet. She did diagnose me with occipital and trigeminal neuralgia- both left side. Just curious if anyone has been diagnosed after fifty.

I think we have had a pretty good demonstration of why the Dunkelfelger knights call him that. Whatever else Ferdinand is or isn't, he knows how to use intel to his advantage and he can think on his feet.
By all rights Gervasio should have had Ferdinand slammed face down on the mat and with complete victory over him. He had the initiative. He had ruthless followers. And above all he had more mana. More than Ferdinand? More than Rozemyne? Scary.
But Ferdinand realized that Gervasio had a fatal lack of education and as a result ended up with less than he started with. Imagine winning the ultimate tool of power (however flawed because Rozemyne is Rozemyne) and having it dissolve in your hands. And end up trapped in a box. Most likely he will be a mana battery for the rest of his life.
Ferdinand was the most ruthless.
I wonder if Erwaremen and Mestionora realized realized how Ferdinand gamed things.
The one big weakness in Ferdinand's plot was whether Anastasius would go along with it. If he didn't it would all fall apart. He almost didn't at first, offended by Ferdinand's high-handedness. But he got past that and as a result saved the Royal Family. Good for him.

Hey all, I’ve been switched onto propranolol and I’m currently taking 10mg morning and night, whilst amitriptyline is being reduced. I’ve been on it for 6 days now, with no major side effects, my hands and feet get cold at night but this is no big deal. It’s day 6 now and seemingly out of nowhere today I’ve been experiencing the most intense pins and needles in my feet, arms and hands. It’s extremely irritating and won’t go away. I’m expected to go up to 40mg morning and night over the next few weeks and I’m worried about increasing the dose if the sensations are this bad! My questions are:

1. When should I expect this to subside?
2. If you experienced this, did anything help to relieve it?

Falling back in love with the mother of my child. What do I do?
So it's a bit of a long story, grab a chair, maybe a snack just relax for a minute & let me tell you. When I was 17 now '23M' I met the most amazing woman, so madly in love with her. then 16 now '22F. Me and her were first loves, we did everything together & had developed a very strong friendship. We were best friends but we dated, It was amazing. All the growing up from 16 & 17 till when we broke up at 19 and 20.
We did everything like getting our first place together, our first grownup jobs, our first new cars, at 18 she found out she was pregnant. I was ecstatic I mean besides the weight of being a teen parent & being totally unprepared haha, I mean I loved this person so much she was truly my everything.
Fast forward to 2020 our baby boy was born & everything was great, both of us had government jobs new cars, a nice house and we were preparing to buy a house. Now the details on why we split are expansive so I'll just touch on them. She was going through postpartum depression & I knew so I was doing everything I possibly could to relieve her stress and anxiety. Now at the same time I had to handle an alcoholic set of parents, a dying uncle, a couple of friends who had passed. I had a lot going on mentally. Not to mention having memories that had been suppressed from my childhood come back to me. I was f*cked up and so was she.
We started fighting a lot & ultimately decided to split up. I moved in with my parents & she did the same with hers. Except her mom lived in Arizona & a majority of her family did as well. Her father was the only person in Kansas City that was family. So she had trouble even having a place to stay.
Eventually she had no choice but to go to Arizona for some time to get back on her feet. I said I could keep my son for some time while she took a few months to stabilize. 3 months in she asks if she could come get our son and bring him down for a few months. I couldn't do it, not only was him being in another state a massive risk to my custody but they are also Native American so the second she steps on a reservation I loose all rights. Well that's what I was being told by my parents & grandparents.
I had no idea what to do do but I ended up not letting her take him. Stupid decision cause I had no reason not to trust her, the only person that's ever cared about me just cause they wanted not because I was family. Our relationship & friendship was solid up until then. It destroyed me & it destroyed her. Fast forward I'm 21 and she's 20, she's back in state and is contributing with our son. She bounced around dating men and living with them, until she eventually met someone and got engaged.
They were together for a little over a year, well he ended up being physically abusive to her and my son. We are now 23 and 22, there relationship ended 3 months ago. I offered to let her stay with me until she gets back on her feet.
Our friendship is just as strong as it was when we were teens. She's since forgiven me for keeping my son from her, l've also realized a lot about myself and what I had going on mentally. I never stopped loving her, she's always been the one for me & I knew that when we split. I needed that time tho, I got to spend 3 years with my father who passed last year. I got him sober & had gained fulfillment in seeing my father how I had never. I do not regret our split, but her being here has brought so much to light.
She says she loves me still but isn't attracted to me, reason being how much I had hurt her in the past. I can see it, how she looks at me sometimes. She still loves me, she will make me lunch for work & ask me how l'm feeling when I seem off. She cares for me and we both enjoy each others company, she misses me when I'm at work. Now I'll say this situation is odd cause we both agreed getting back together because of situations might lead to decisions being made that aren't true to our feelings.
We do everything that would be done in a romantic relationship, besides intimacy. Now there art times that we get intimate, l'll console her if she's sad.(We sleep in the same bed) cuddling isn't something we do tho. Sometimes we may hold hands while we sleep. Or when we drink we might get a little touchy on each other. But nothing ever happens.
I should mention we both are dating, I have gone on a few dates with some woman and same for her with men. We aren't together but we aren't not together. Truly confused & have no idea how to navigate this situation. My gut tells me wait it out and see if anything develops more, but my heart tells me to confess how I feel and what I want. I want her and only her, always have. Can someone help me navigate this with some wise advice, it would be greatly appreciated.
TL;DR;: I’m falling in love with the mother of my child who I’ve not been with for 3 years, she lives with me now due to circumstance & I have no idea how to handle this. What do I do?

Ours died and needs a full on replacement. Including pipes to and from the furnace.
It's not a huge house (1800 sq feet not including basement), and could likely make do with a less powerful system.
Any suggestions on places to go get this and who install? Or someone who installs if we choose to go with second hand?
Help! Not wanting to spend 4-5k on ac

KNOW TO ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, that WHEREAS, National Development Company, Inc dba N.D.C, Inc., a Texas Corporation, is the owner of certain real property located in Coffee County, Tennessee, and described as follows:
LAND in the 2nd Civil District of Coffee County, Tennessee, described according to a survey made by Alton C. Morris, P.E., R.L.S. 1064, dated July 30, 1983, as follows:
Beginning in the northerly margin of Old McMinnville-Shelbyville Road, also know as Gnat-McBrides Branch Road, (OM-SR) at a post at the southeast corner of Merriman's property; thence with the easterly line of Merriman's property and a fence, north 10° 55' 21” east 536.35 feet to a corner post at the southeast corner of H. Duke's property: thence with lines of H. Duke's property and a fence: (1)north 8° 10' 57” east 220.78 feet to a post, (2) north 4° 29' 13” east 455.18 feet to a post, (3) north 4° 42' 21” east 551.39 feet to a post, (4) north 3° 18' 09” east 335.06 feet to an old corner post at M.T. Lewis' former northwest corner, (5) north 2° 23' 37” east 883.96 feet to a post, (6) north 2° 24' east 298.89 feet to an iron pin at the corner post, hereinafter referred to as Reference Point “A”, and (7) north 86° 30' 46” west 2199.73 feet to a corner post at the northeast corner of J. Duke's property; thence with the northerly line of J. Duke's property and a fence, north 86° 49' 46” west 1808.74 feet to a corner post at the northeast corner of Goad's property; thence with the northerly line of Goad's property and a fence, north 86° 35' 34” west 1076.87 feet to an iron rod in the easterly line of Hockett's property; thence with the easterly line of Hockett's property, marked, and then continuing with the easterly line of the Gilley and Thomas property and a fence, north 3° 24' 40” west 3543.21 feet to a corner post; thence with the northerly line of the Gilley and Thomas property and a fence, north 84° 56' 17” west 1482.98 feet to a corner post in the easterly line of Smith's property; thence with the easterly line of Smith's property, marked, and continuing with the easterly line of Logan's property, north 11° 23; 16” east 2353.44 feet to an iron pin at the southwest corner of Keaner's property; thence with the southerly line of Keaner's property, marked, south 83° 03' 17” east 2082.14 feet to a corner post at the southwest corner of Fults' property; thence with the southerly line of Fults' property and a fence, south 89° 41' 59” east 1634.02 feet to an iron pin at the northwest corner of M. B. Jernigan's property; thence with lines of M. B. Jernigan's property: (1) south 0° 11' 12” east 414.75 feet to a 2 inch iron pipe, (2) north 89° 49' 02” east 1053.22 feet to an iron pin, and (3) north 1° 37' 41” west 215.29 feet to a point at the southwest corner of the southerly terminous of the 25 foot right of way, hereinafter referred to as Reference Point “B”; thence with the southerly margin of said 25 foot right of way, north 88° 22' 19” east 25.00 feet to an iron pin; thence with the easterly margin of said 25 foot right of way, north 1° 37' 41” west 199.40 feet to an iron pin at the southwest corner of Newell's property; thence with the southerly line of Newell's property, north 89° 44' 37” east 2259.80 feet to a pipe in Morgan's westerly line; thence with Morgan's westerly line and continuing with a westerly line of Vincion's property, both marked, south 3° 36' 55” west 1092.68 feet to a marked black gum tree; thence with a westerly line of Vincion's property, the westerly lines of Moore's and Prater's properties and a westerly line of Curtis Moore's property, a marked line, south 7° 35' 09” west 4996.74 feet to an iron pin located north 7° 35' 09” east 75.00 feet from Reference Point “A”; thence with lines of Curtis Moore's property, (1) south 85° 00' 26” east 75.08 feet to a stake, (2) south 7° 35' 09” west 75.00 feet to a stake, (3) south 2° 24' west 295.49 feet to a stake and (4) south 2° 23' 37” west 885.47 feet to a stake at M. T. Lewis' new northwest corner; thence with westerly lines of M. T. Lewis' property: (1) south 3° 18' 09” west 335.39 feet to a stake, (2) south 4° 42' 21” west 552.16 feet to a stake, (3) south 4° 29' 13” west 457.46 feet to a stake, (4) south 8° 10' 57” west 225.01 feet to a stake and (5) south 10° 55' 21” west 528.26 feet to a stake in the northerly margin of OM-SR; thence with the northerly margin of OM-SR, north 86° 35' 40” west 75.65 feet to the point of beginning, containing 823.05 acres, more or less.
TOGETHER with a nonexclusive permanent easement, appurtenant to said 823.05 acre tract, and any and all parts thereof, for the purpose of providing ingress thereto and egress therefrom from and to Hollow Springs Road, (HSR) and for the purpose of connecting said 823.05 acre tract, and any and all parts there of, to such utilities as may be available at HSR, now or in the future, over, across and through the following described property:
LAND in the 2nd Civil District of Coffee County, Tennessee, described according to said survey as follows:
Beginning at Reference Point “B”; thence with lines of said 823.05 acre tract, north 88° 22' 19” east 25.00 feet to an iron pin and north 1° 37' 41” west 199.40 feet to an iron pin at the south west corner of Newell's property, north 4° 30' 11” east 485.55 feet and north 4° 30' 36” east 459.09 feet to the southerly margin of HSR; thence with the southerly margin of HSR, north 85° 29' 24” west 25.00 feet to a corner post at the northeast corner of Fult's property; thence with westerly lines of Fults' property and a fence, south 4° 30' 36” west 459.09 feet and south 4° 30' 11” west 487.63 feet to an iron pin; thence south 1° 37' 41” east 215.29 feet to the point of beginning, containing 0.66 acres, more or less.
BEING part of the property conveyed to Wiley G. Jernigan and wife, Faye B. Jernigan, by deed from Woiley G Jernigan et recorded in Deed Book 181, page 875, in the Register's Office for said County, and all of the property conveyed to Wiley G. Jernigan and wife, Faye B. Jernigan, by deed from Wiley G. Jernigan, et al., recorded in Deed Book 181, page 879, said Register's Office; and
WHEREAS, this indenture is made and entered into this 2nd date of November, 1983, by and between National Development Company, Inc., party of the first part, hereinafter called “Grantor”, and R. L. Erkenbeck, party of the second part, hereinafter referred to as “Trustee”, being the trustee of the Lakewood Park Trusteeship; and
WHEREAS, Grantor is in the process of developing said land into a subdivision for living and recreational purposes and developing a lake and other facilities for living and for recreational enjoyment by the future lot owners in said development, which said development shall be know as “Lakewood Park” and which said development shall be developed in several parts with a separate plat for each part thereof as it is developed; and
WHEREAS, the Grantor is desirous of promoting and enhancing the value of said tracts of lane by stabilizing residential values and establishing recreational and related facilities therein; and
WHEREAS, the Grantor believes that the creation of a trust of certain of the property rights in said tract and the establishment of certain use restrictions is the most beneficial means of accomplishing this purpose; and
WHEREAS, it is the purpose and intention of this indenture to preserve said tract of land as a restricted residential recreational neighborhood and to protect the same against certain uses by the adoption of a common neighborhood plan and scheme of restrictions; to apply that plan and restrictions, not only to all of the land and every parcel thereof as it may be sold from time to time, but also in favor of all other parcels within the area of the hands of the present or subsequent owners thereof, and to mutually benefit, guard and restrict the present and/or future title holders or occupants of any and all said parcels and to foster the health, welfare and safety of all who own lots or reside in said area; and
WHEREAS, all reservations, limitations, conditions, easements and covenants herein contained, any and all of which are hereafter termed “Restrictive Covenants” or “Restrictions” are jointly or severally for the benefit of all persons who may purchase, hold or won, from time to time, any of the several lots covered by this instrument, and are intended to run with the land and be mutually enforceable;
NOW, THEREFORE, IN CONSIDERATION of the premises and of the mutual premises, covenants and agreements contained herein and the sum of One Dollar ($1.00) to party of the first part in hand paid by the party of the second part, the receipt of which is hereby acknowledged, and further, in consideration of the advantages to accrue to the party of the first part, as well as to future owners of said lots into which said tract may be subdivided, and with the agreement and consent of the party of the second part to act as Trustee hereunder, the part of the first part agrees as follows:
The party of the first part or the Grantor, shall contemporaneously with the recording of each platted subdivision of the above described land, grant, bargain, sell, convey, transfer, assign and set over unto the said Trustee, his successors and assigns, all singular and the several strips and parcels of land which are to be delineated and set apart as drives, lanes, circles, streets or roads on said plat of said subdivisions, together with the lakes, dams, and related facilities and facilities for disposal or wastewater in the subdivision to be constructed by Grantor on said above-described land, and said Grantor, upon the consideration heretofore recited, does also hereby agree to create, reserve and transfer, assign and grant the Trustee easements for the purposes set forth in Article III hereof, over, across, through and under all of the lots in said subdivision as marked out and set out on said plats to be filed for the subdivision of said land, including all easements and roadways. TO HAVE AND TO HOLD all of the foregoing to the Trustee, his successors and assigns, IN TRUST, upon the uses and purposes, for the term and upon the conditions hereinafter set forth in this indenture. As used herein, the word “Trustee” or “Trusteeship” shall mean either a single Trustee or join Trustees.

Credit to u/SpacePaladin15 for the NOP Universe.
Hey, I hope everyone's doing well!
Today we return to the namesake of this fic, an actual lesson about animals. This one focuses on Koalas! One of Australia's most recognisable critters. I hope you enjoy.
It's hardly worth mentioning, seeing as I'm an infrequent poster at the best of times, but I'll not have another chapter out for a few weeks due to limited free time and devoting most of my writing time to an upcoming ficnapping. Be sure to look out for that!
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Memory transcription subject: Rysel, Venlil Environmental Researcher
Date [Standardised human time]: 8th September 2136
“Koalas!”
Bernard’s energised voice boomed through the air as the classroom's monitor flickered into life, images of this paws lecture topic popping up one after the other until the entire screen was filled with a collage of furry quadrupeds.
Squee! I’ll never get tired of this, it’s all so cool!
As usual the sight of something new stirred immediate discussion, hushed murmurs swelling into vibrant discourse in little more than a heartbeat. Most of the class swiftly huddled together into small herds to bounce ideas around while the rest opted to stick to the solace of their own thoughts as they took in the display.
I’d be quite happy in either situation, though seeing as Sandi had already sunk into deep concentration and Kailo had peeled off to talk with Ennerif and Solenk, it seemed the decision had been made for me on this occasion. Wasting no more time on idle inspection of the people around me, I focused my full attention forward, eager to form first impressions before the lesson began in earnest.
Now then, time to make some educated guesses. What traits does this animal have? I wonder if I’ll get any right this paw?
Professional assumptions went paw-in-paw with the lectures, examining and coming up with hypotheses about the specimens was only natural. Recently however, I’d started to make a little game of it to make things even more interesting than usual. A veritable bonfire of ideas had been set ablaze within me, fueled by my newfound knowledge of Earthen wildlife. Every flash and spark of the flame was a fresh theory I could try to apply to the lectures. It was an invigorating exercise that further stoked my unceasing wonderment.
So far I’d only done this once during the previous class and, to my disappointment, I’d not done too well.
I was right when I guessed that chickens were omnivores, but wrong in my assumption that they could fly. And that red thing on their head, the um… what was it called? The comb! Yes, the comb. I thought that was to attract mates, but it regulates body heat instead. It’s fascinating. Oh! Stars damn it I’m rambling!
I bapped my tail against my leg, the soft thud being just enough to snap me back from my runaway thoughts before I went completely wall-eyed. I was becoming more and more accustomed to getting lost in my own head while remaining conscious of the fact; it was happening so frequently now that it was pretty much impossible not to. Now I was able to pull myself back to the world around me without having to rely on someone else shaking me out of it. Most of the time anyway.
Sandi still keeps an eye on me, and Kailo even decided to help out once without being too snide about it. Anyway where was I? Oh yeah, Koalas.
Glancing at the furred animals, two things immediately stood out. Firstly, their eyes were in a more central position on their face. And second, all the images showed them being on or close to trees. There were other noteworthy observations of course, such as the Koala’s prominent nose and rounded features, but they fell to the wayside as I honed in on these points first.
Hmmm… ok. I already know to discount the idea that they’re predators just from eye position, so let’s get that thought out of here. Maybe omnivorous? Herbivore? Agh no, I can’t just guess that for the sake of guessing, that’s the same problem! Hrm, it’s tough making these assumptions now that everything I thought I knew has been turned on its head.
Nevermind, I’ll focus on the other thing. All the trees make me think they’re arboreal, that seems to be a reasonable assumption. I wonder what else they-
Clearing his throat, Bernard broke my concentration, his call for attention silencing the murmuring conversation and redirecting everyone's focus to the lecturer's podium.
His gaze panned across the room as he waited for everyone to settle, a beaming smile lighting up his face, “As ever I’m delighted to see you all get so into the subject matter from the get go. I’m looking forward to hearing what you were discussing should you wish to share. For now though, how about we get started, hm?”
A chorus of merry bleats rang out from across the audience, ears and tails flicking happily in agreement. Bernard's grin grew in tandem with the class's fervour, clasping his hands together enthusiastically as he launched into the lesson, “Excellent! Then let’s get started.”
The pictures on screen dissolved away until only one remained, enlarging to cover the entire monitor with the fluffy grey face of a Koala peacefully reclining in the crook of a tree.
“Ah, there we are,” Bernard’s baritone timbre drifted through the room as he looked up at the image, his own tone reflecting the relaxed attitude of the animal on screen, “He looks so comfortable doesn’t he? Perfectly at peace with the world, not too surprising considering they sleep almost 20 hours a day. A full paw!”
A wave of beeps and gasps rippled through the herd, punctuated by a single yawn-dressed comment from Rova, “A full paw? Hwuuu… jealous.”
Her drowsy remark elicited several whistling giggles from the herd, Bernard's own jovial chortle joining them as he turned to face her, “Late evening Rova?”
I twisted a little in my seat, panning an eye in Rova’s direction just in time to see her bleary eyes bulge open and her ears shoot up, now intensely aware of the fact she hadn’t been as quiet as she thought she had.
Sitting up abruptly, she hastily tapped down errant tufts of wool that’d flared in surprise as she composed herself, though her nervousness at becoming the centre of the class's attention was still plain for all to hear, “Uh- I um… achem, a little bit yes, um- …sorry. Lokki dragged me out to a movie viewing in the rec centre. It went on pretty late.”
A melodramatic bray from the other side of the room drew everyone's ears away from Rova to the now aghast Lokki, paw splayed across his chest in faux indignation, “Dragged you? Well excuse me for trying to broaden your horizons with human movies. That’ll be the list time I- …Ahaaaa…”
Lokki’s theatrics were cut short by a heavy yawn of his own, a swell of whistling laughter rolling through the herd as vibrant bloom lit up his snout, a sight that elicited a particularly amused bleat from Rova.
Turning away from the duo I looked back at Bernard, pleased to see that he was chuckling along with us. Behaviour like Lokki’s would never have been tolerated in my school and university days but, in stark contrast, Bernard revelled in it, the liveliness of his students fueling his own bombastic style of teaching. It was a pleasant change of pace having a teacher who let us all be ourselves in class; provided we weren’t too disruptive to the lesson plan.
Speaking of which.
His laughter still rumbling through the air, Bernard clapped his hands to pull everyone's focus back to him, “Ok, ok, let’s get back to it then shall we? Rova. Lokki. Hopefully the two of you can stay awake long enough until you can grab yourselves a coffee.”
As the class settled down and the last few giggling beeps petered out, Benard pointed a hand to the screen, “So, the Koala. Let’s start simple shall we? They are herbivorous marsupials native to the eastern and southern coasts of Australia. Easily recognised the world over, they are a well known and beloved symbol of their homeland, along with other animals such as the Kangaroo and the Emu. The former of which you might remember from one of our earlier lectures.”
Indeed I did remember, along with how angry Bernard had gotten after some speh-head had derided the Yotul after he explained how he held specific disdain for such attitudes.
Uuuggghh… I never want to see him angry again. So chilling.
I shook my ears in an effort to dismiss the unpleasant memory, panning my eyes back to the monitor to try and distract myself by inspecting the Koala’s physical appearance once more. Thankfully, by some Star's blessed intervention, Bernard had the exact same idea.
“Koala’s are rather squat in stature, ranging around sixty to eighty-five centimetres in length and weighing little more than fifteen to sixteen kilograms at their full size. As you can see, the fur of this fellow before you is a lovely silvery grey, but their fur can also sport a chocolaty brown hue as well. Arguably the most distinctive part of their appearance is their head, being rather large for their body size and having rounded ears, a large nose, and a pair of small eyes. These are often brown but variations do occur.”
It didn’t slip past my notice that Bernard didn’t bother to point out that the Koala’s eyes were forward facing. I didn’t think he’d simply forgotten, so perhaps he just felt it wasn’t necessary given that he’d already stated it was herbivorous. Either way, no one stuck up a paw or tail to question him.
“Now this will hardly be surprising considering how long they sleep, but Koala’s are largely sedentary and it’s rather easy to see why when you have a look into the contents of their diet.”
With the press of a button the Koala on screen was replaced by images of vibrant green vegetation. Soaring trees and flowering shrubbery weaved together across landscape framed pictures pulled admiring trills from the herd, the diversity of the plant life being shown standing as a reminder that it wasn’t only animal life that flourished on Earth.
After giving everyone the chance to take in the picturesque scenes, Bernard casually hammered that point home, “This is eucalyptus or, more accurately, a choice selection of more than 700 plants belonging to the eucalyptus genus, though the Koala itself favours 30 of them in particular.”
700!? Stars…
Realising that my ears had drooped in my momentary awe, I twisted them back to tune into the lesson, only for them to splay out in shock at the next words to come out of Bernard's mouth.
“The leaves of these plants are the primary food source of the Koala and there are a couple things worth mentioning when talking about these plants. For starters they do not have much nutritional or caloric value, leading to the Koala’s low-energy lifestyle. Additionally, they contain toxic compounds.”
A shiver instantly ran through the herd, ears flicking rapidly in confusion and alarm followed by a few quizzical whispers. It didn’t take long for someone to decide to give a proper voice to the murmuring.
“Excuse me Doctor. Did we hear that right? Their diet is made up of toxic flora?” Vlek’s grumbling incredulity cut through the herd's mutterings with ease. Until Kailo’s recent change of heart, the fifty something rotation old blonde Venlil had been a close second in terms of scepticism. Mercifully his rebuttals had always been relevant questions as opposed to ranting diatribes, so he at least remained on topic if nothing else.
Bernard nodded in confirmation, smiling back at Vlek while absentmindedly twirling the end of his moustache, “You heard me right, they do indeed consume plants that are toxic. Just not to them.”
Any worry or uncertainty still clinging to the herd was swept away by the provision of the glaringly obvious answer, leaving me chuckling inwardly at the oversight.
Ah of course! The plant might be poisonous but they’ll have evolved to deal with that. Stars… I’m so used to expecting the unexpected with Earth that I didn’t even consider the simplest solution.
“I see, thank you Doctor,” Vlek replied, a tinge of interest still audible in his tone, “I assume they’ve developed some adaptation to become immune to the harmful effects?”
The question immediately evoked a smirk from our teacher, but he hurriedly suppressed it while bobbing his head, “They have indeed. There are several factors that aid in their digestion of eucalyptus leaves without succumbing to the plant's baleful properties. The first is a part of the intestinal tract called the cecum. It contains a microbiome that allows the Koala to digest the eucalyptus. Coupled with this is an enzyme in the Koala’s liver that helps them break down the toxins. They are also capable of sniffing out the plants with the least amount of toxins, ensuring that they ingest as little as possible.”
Pausing for a breath Bernard looked back at the screen before turning to face us, another grin curling at the edges of his mouth as he continued with his explanation, “This is mostly for adult Koala’s, because while their young also possess these same adaptations, they don’t just go straight to munching through foliage right after being born. No, they need a little help making that jump and getting a stomach full of all that good gut bacteria. It’s nothing bad, but those of a sensitive stomach may wish to prepare themselves for this next part.”
Bernard’s assurances did little to assuage the concern that his warning had foisted upon us. Having been exposed to so much of the weirdness Earth had to offer everyone always ended up on edge whenever Bernard gave advice like this, even if he did say it in jest.
What strange nonsense thing do Koala pups do then? Judging by the way he’s acting it probably isn’t something as simple as drinking milk from the mother. Hmmm…
“So,” Bernard began, snapping us from our pensive stupor, “Young Koala’s, known as joeys, have a gestation period of thirty-five days on average, which is approximately forty-two paws. Once born they travel from the birth canal to a pouch in their mother so that they can continue to develop and grow. In the pouch the joey finds and latches onto one of two teats and these provide the newborn with a steady stream of nourishing milk. It spends the next six to seven months growing in the pouch, its eyes, ears, and fur all developing as time goes on.”
Okay, interesting. But this is exactly how I thought it’d go. What’s different?
The unexpected normalcy of the Koala’s birth and growth cycle had calmed everyone's nerves, only to be replaced with an air of suspicion as we waited with rapt attention for Bernard to drop the other claw and upend our expectations like he always did.
Not wanting to keep us in further suspense he forged ahead, the tempo of his voice picking up as the smile started to crease his face once more, “Now to make the switch from milk to eucalyptus, the mother also feeds the joey a substance called pap. It comes from the cecum I mentioned earlier, and contains all the gut bacteria required to help the young Koala in making the switch to eucalyptus.”
He stopped and looked around, searching us for a reaction to what I felt was a rather bland statement of fact. What was it he was saying without actually saying? Koala pups drink milk to mature and then include this pap substance so that they can start eating plants. I don’t see what-
The cecum is part of the intestine.
I blinked.
I blinked again, the intrusive interruption scouring my brain clean of any other thought bar the one it’d just implanted itself in the forefront of my mind.
Oh stars. They-
“They eat their own poop!?”
The shocked bleat shattered the peace of the room to reveal that most if not all of us had come to the same tail curling conclusion. As the hall filled with unrestrained vocalisations of disgust, an ‘Ugh’ over here and a ‘Blegh’ over there, Bernard’s own bellowing laughter joined the throng of voices.
“Ha! Everytime! Each and every time. Clearly it doesn’t matter if my students are Human or Venlil. Whenever someone learns about the Koala’s dietary development the reaction is the same!”
Pleased with himself beyond reason, Bernard chuckled away while the rest of us grappled with this ghastly reality. While there were plenty of animals that feasted on things that ranged from simply unappealing all the way to the stomach churningly grotesque, I’d never heard of an animal that actively consumed the excrement of its own species. Benefits aside, the prospect of having to do that to survive to adulthood sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine.
Ewww… Stars, I hope I forget this feeling by 2nd meal. They’re serving sturen and magamroot stew later. I was really looking forward to it.
With the herds mood beginning to temper Bernard tapped the podiums controls, removing the verdant collage of eucalyptus to display several similar yet distinct environments, still chortling merrily to himself in the process, “Ok then, with that little foray into their diet complete, why don’t we look at their habitat in more detail? As you might imagine given their diet and arboreal nature, Koala’s live in forested regions, and can be found in tropical and temperate zones. About a century ago they were classed as a vulnerable species, however efforts were made to turn this around and increase their numbers. Sadly the largest factor in their decline was human activity, as the fertile lands that gave rise to their bountiful forests were coveted farm land for our settlements.”
It was strange to hear Bernard so matter of factly admit to humanity's negative impacts on other species. He’d alluded to such things in the past but always with an air of caution, carefully pawing the line between honestly answering a question while not painting humanity as uncaring and destructive. AKA, the ‘predators’ we’d all initially expected them to be.
Perhaps his comfort in making such admissions was a reflection of the class's comfort with him, for no one so much as batted an ear. Even Kailo, who I would’ve expected to jump at the chance to use this as a prime example of predatory danger, only flicked an ear in stern yet silent concern.
A cough from Bernard drew my attention back, a new picture on screen that showed a forest from a bird's-eye view. Drawn across the image were around a dozen ringed areas, some bordering one another while others overlapped to some degree. It took me a moment, but I soon recognised that what I was looking at was a map, the rings representing what I assumed to be territories. And it didn’t take much effort to guess who each one belonged to.
“From habitats we move onto behaviours, so let’s start with territories. Koala’s are solitary animals. Yes, despite being herbivores. Considering they’re only awake for roughly four hours of the day I can hardly blame them. Lots to do and not a lot of time to do it. Jokes aside, once they mature they are quite independent, carving out a little slice of land for themselves, as displayed in this example, called a Home Range. That is not to say they go it alone and leave everything else behind however. Rather, as shown in the map behind me, they live in their own space while still being part of a larger social group.”
With another press of his pad the picture was updated to show one of two symbols in each segment, along with a key to the side of the map displayed in helpful Venlang. A quick glance told me that the symbols were representing whether the territory belonged to a male or female of the species.
“As you can see there is quite a bit of overlap between different Koala’s territories. It is in these areas that most of the socialising takes place between neighbours. The trees in these locations represent the few areas where intrusion across territories is acceptable for the sake of social interaction. Outside of that the Koala’s stick to their own territories for the most part, with the exceptions of Koala’s who are passing through, attempting to become part of the social group themselves, or dominant males who sometimes go off into another Koala’s range. But how do they know where one range begins and another range ends you might ask? Well, this brings us onto the next part of the lecture. How do Koala’s communicate?”
Wiping away the map from the monitor, Bernard loaded up a video of a Koala sitting in a tree and pressed play. Head held high, the Koala’s body shook as it belted out a reverberating call into the wilderness that could only be described as a garbled combination of a car engine failing to turn over mixed with the hiccups of someone with a particularly sore throat.
That’s how they sound? Oof that must be rough on the lungs.
I clearly wasn’t the only one to share such a thought, because I clocked Sandi tracing a paw along her neck as the noise went on, ears fluttering in discomfort at the noise.
Bernard himself cleared his own throat as the video came to an end, minimising it and replacing it with another image of a tree with a Koala rubbing up against the bark, “I think they’ve got me beat on who’s got the deeper voice!”
His joke garnered several amused beeps, a rare reaction that caused a beaming smile to shine across his face at lighting speed, “Oh you’re too kind. I’ll be here all week. Now where were we? Oh yes! Communication. As you’ve just heard, Koala’s are capable of loud low pitched bellows that can carry over vast distances. These express everything from ‘Hello I’m over here’ to ‘This is my turf, stay away’. Bellowing is more common in the males than the females, opting for shouting matches as opposed to outright fights when it comes to asserting dominance. Other vocal expressions include grunts, wails, and snarls if they’re acting particularly angsty. Mother and joey pairs also communicate through gentle clicking, squeaking, and murmuring sounds. And there’s one more thing worth mentioning. Something they have in common with Humans and Venlil when it comes to emoting.”
Really? They do something we do?
Curious, I pressed myself against the desk, straining as close as I could to once more scrutinise the Koala’s features. Not a lot stood out to me at first, the grey marsupial not sharing many similarities with a Venlil that I could identify.
Ok think. We show emotion with our ears, tails, and our wool on occasion. They don’t have tails so it’s obviously not that. Wool standing on end is more a reaction than a conscious expression. So it must be the ears then.
To my quiet satisfaction, my hunch was soon validated by Bernard, “As well as their vocalisations, Koala’s are very emotive through their facial features. Just like humans, they use their mouths and lips to show how they feel, but these tend more towards the aggressive side of the scale than what you might see on a human. Regarding yourselves however, Koala’s utilise their ears in tandem with their mouth movements when showing strong emotion.”
I was delighted to hear that my assumption was correct, a little happy flick twisting out through my tail and bapping against my chair with a muted thump against the plastic.
Hehe yes! Got one right!
“Now then, we are getting close to lunchtime so I’ll finish this segment off with something I think you’ll find particularly interesting. Diplomacy.”
Perplexed mutterings followed in the wake of the bizarre inclusion to the lecture, my own thoughts being dominated by bewilderment as I tried and failed to make sense of how the two could possibly be related.
Why would Koala’s, or any animal for that matter, be linked to diplomacy? Hmmm...
I could understand dispatching exterminators to deal with a predator issue as a show of goodwill, that at least includes animals, but Humans aren’t like that so I think I can safely scratch that off the list.
Maybe the humans who live in that region benefited from Koala’s in some way. Could they have gotten something from them? But what?
Hopefully not what the pups get from their mothers.
Agh no! Begone awful intrusive thoughts. Blegh! I don’t need that in my head.
As I wrestled with the short-lived revulsion inflicted upon me by my Star's damned subconscious, Bernard placed a new image on screen, one that was decidedly different from all that had preceded it.
On screen were more than a couple dozen pictures of humans. Some were pictured alone while others congregated in large groups while cameras surrounded them from all angles. Across all the images, I noted two common themes. First of all, a solid majority of the humans were wearing formal wear similar to what I’d seen worn by UN representatives on TV. If the gaggle of journalists in the background of the photos didn’t already confirm my suspicions, then it was this similarity which made me conclude they were all people of some importance. Likely politicians judging from context clues.
Secondly, each of the individuals was interacting with a Koala in some form. Some cradled one against their chests while others were feeding it eucalyptus leaves or pellets of some kind. One of the assumed politicians had become an impromptu bed for a snoozing bundle of fur, a gleeful smile spread across their face as they lovingly gazed down at the sleeping Koala in their lap.
As I continued to stare at the assorted photos something clicked into place, a sudden spark flickering into life. A burgeoning light of comprehension that flared and swelled with every wide-eyed breath I took. Some things still escaped me, things I hoped would soon be explained, but in staring at all of the humans happy smiling faces, I was struck with an instant of pure understanding.
If someone, say a Nevok for instance, offered to gift me a creature that was common to them but which might exotic and breathtaking to a Venlil, how could my feelings not be swayed? How could I walk away from that encounter and not have grown closer to them as a result?
“Koala diplomacy,” Bernard waved his hand up at the monitor, a slight reverence in his tone, “My favourite kind of soft power diplomacy. Where political leaders take photo ops with Koala’s and, on occasion, the Australian government loans Koala’s to other nations for a time to bolster positive relations. It certainly helps that Koala’s are a beloved animal worldwide, drawing large crowds and revenue for countries fortunate enough to host the adorable critters.”
The truly alien concept predictably sparked instant discussion in the herd, two polar opposite schools of thought swiftly cementing themselves as the most popular opinions. Simultaneously, I heard one voice trill excitedly while another scoffed at what they clearly saw as a ridiculous and offensive notion.
“Squee! That’d be so cool! I’d love to get the chance to see a Liri from Coila. Remember the Rainbow Boa? Think of that shimmering effect and colour but put it on a bird! Ah! I’ve only heard their song on video. It’d be a treat to hear it in person!”
Ooo! I’ve read about them! I’d love to get up close to one.
“Loaning. As if animals are property to be hoarded and traded? Pugh! Another predatory trait the humans don’t want to acknowledge for what it is.”
Ugh, typical. Jump right to the worst possible option.
However, despite my dismissal of their disparaging fumings, an uncomfortable thought pressed upon my mind. While it was plain to see how much humans cared for the Koala, it didn’t change the fact that humans did keep animals as property just as the scornful herd member had said.
This begged a rather important, disquieting question. Aside from keeping some animals as cattle, a stomach tightening minefield I had no desire to step a claw onto right now, how else did humans keep other creatures. And how did they treat them?
Before I was fully conscious of doing it my paw was in the air, the question primed on my tongue.
Noticing my elevated paw Bernard pointed at me, smiling warmly, “Yes Rysel? What’s on your mind?”
Sorry Bernard. I hope this one’s not too awkward for you to answer.
Flicking my ear in appreciation, and waiting for everyone to settle enough so that I could be heard, I voiced my concerns as neutrally as possible, “Thank you Doctor. I uh, just had a thought. We know that humans keep certain animals for… particular reasons, and we know why. From how you’ve spoken about Koala’s I think it's fair to say that the same cannot be said for them. However, this makes me wonder, what other reasons do humans have for keeping animals and how do you treat them?”
A flash of surprise blinked across Bernard's eyes but vanished so quickly that it felt like I’d imagined it. Had he not expected such a question? Maybe he was just shocked that it’d been me who’d ended up asking it?
Stars, am I so predictable that no one expects me to ask difficult questions?
Unfortunately, a quick glance at my deskmates seemed to prove that to be the case, as both Sandi and Kailo were looking at me with differing degrees of astonishment flapping in their ears.
Well speh.
“A very good point Rysel, certainly one that’s worth raising. Yet another example of you all anticipating what I have to say before I can bring it up myself.” Bernard tapped the podium, switching off the monitor before returning his focus to me, “We won’t be needing that. I’ve nothing prepared that I can show you and we’re heading to lunch in a few minutes anyway. Still, that’s plenty of time to give you a bit of an answer.”
A bit? What does he mean just a bit?
Made even more curious by Bernard's preempted admission that he wasn’t going to fully answer my query, I dialled both my ears on him, fixing him with an inquisitive stare as he started to explain with a tone that was noticeably more nonchalant than any of his previous explanations.
“So, animals in captivity for reasons other than what you already know. Honestly I would love to delve into other reasons regarding why we keep animals. However, I have a lesson plan in the works that I hope to share with you all in the not too distant future. Some of it touches upon this very topic and I’d quite like to bundle it all together. That said, I can tell you how animals in captivity are treated. In short, the answer is very well. There are a mountain of laws both on private and public interests that govern the standards and ethical treatment of animals, and breaches of these laws are quite severe even for relatively minor infractions.”
While I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed by the vague answer to what was really the bulk of my question, I was at least satisfied by Bernard’s assurances that animals in captivity, such as the Koala, were well looked after. Considering the barely subdued grumbling coming from some corners of the audience it was clear that several of the herd didn’t believe Bernard outright, but I trusted him to be honest. Additionally, the mention of an upcoming lecture focused on humans keeping animals caused quite the buzz.
I felt a mix of excitement and trepidation at exploring the topic further. He’d pretty much confirmed we wouldn’t be talking about cattle farms, for which I was relieved, but that still left a huge amount of uncertainty in what was to come.
Humans keeping animals as cattle was a forgone conclusion. As horrifying as that reality was, it was one I could understand from a detached and strictly clinical point of view. Being predators they ate meat and therefore they kept cattle. But the concept of keeping animals for any other reason baffled me.
What could be the purpose? The diplomacy thing makes sense now that I have context, but what other reasons could they have.
The class's discussions were interrupted by the recognisable ring of the break bell, the shift in attention eliciting a change in conversation from confused hypotheses to peppy conversation on how everyone was planning to spend their break and what they had in mind for 2nd meal.
“Well I can see everyone’s excited for lunch, and who am I to disappoint,” chuckling Bernard waved us all up from our seats, pocketing his pad from the podium and heading to open the classroom door for us, “Enjoy your break, get a good rest along with a hearty meal, and I’ll see you all back here at the usual time.”
As everyone else filed out I stayed behind, waving at Sandi and Kailo as they left, and pawing over to Bernard once he and I were the only ones left in the room.
Ears folded down and with an apologetic tinge in my voice I greeted him as I sidled up to him, “Hey Bernard, I uh… sorry if that last question was unexpected.”
Chortling in reply, Bernard waved a hand through the air in a sign I’d come to understand meant ‘not a problem’.
“No need to apologise Rysel. It was a good question and most certainly not a problem.”
Heh, called it.
I sighed, allowing tension I didn’t realise I’d been holding to relax itself from my shoulders, “Phew, that’s a relief. I’m glad. I’m curious to hear what this new lesson is you’ve got in store for us by the way.”
Bernard wagged a finger at me, throwing up his eyebrows in mock amazement, “Oh are you now? Well I’m afraid you’ll have to remain curious for the time being. It’s going to be quite the surprise if all goes to plan. But…”
He trailed off, glancing at me before looking to the door like he was making sure no one else was around.
Wait, is he going to tell me? Oh please yes let me know now!
Stopping myself from jumping on the spot in excited anticipation, and trying my damndest to stop my tail from wagging in equal measure, I stared up at Bernard as he stewed in his thoughts before turning back to face me.
“I can’t tell you the specifics, but I’m working with Alejandro and Tolim to get something together. A trip that’s not a trip as it were. And when it happens, I’m going to need a few of the more accepting members of the class to lend me a hand. I’m hoping you and a couple others will be able to help with that?”
A trip that’s not a trip? What does that mean? Agh who cares about that right now! Bernard’s relying on me to help out!
Still trying not to keep myself from bouncing around with pup like glee I swished my tail and nodded my head in joint agreement, happy to help with whatever Bernard had in store for us, “Of course! Anything you need I’ll be there to lend a paw. You can count on me!”
A broad warm smile lit up Bernard's face, a hand patting me on the shoulder in appreciation, “Thank you Rysel. I knew I could rely on you but it still warms my heart to hear it. And, as thanks for this and for the many times you’ve shown your support, the surprise includes a little something special I think you’d appreciate the most.”
If my earlier enthusiasm had been at a nine, then the implication of a supposed gift sent it rocketing all the way to a hundred in a heartbeat.
“Wait… WHAT!? What do you mean? What are you doing?”
As impossible as it seemed, Bernard's grin grew even wider as I almost lost myself in wool shaking exhilaration, “Call it my own form of Koala diplomacy. But I’m afraid that’s all I can say for now. Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise even for you!”
“Oh you ass!” Whistling jovially I bapped my tail against Bernard’s leg in fake indignation, evoking a barking bellowing laugh from the man himself.
Still laughing, the two of us departed the class and made for the canteen, my rumbling stomach leading me on while my mind spun with fantastical thoughts as to what Bernard had prepared for us.
And what specifically he had in store for me.

My parents had me born in the US and I went back to Jamaica until I was 4 years old when allegedly the government said that I had to go back to the US or they would take me away. (If true, this was because I didn’t have Jamaican papers which my mom claims she was afraid to file for to protect her visa)
No relatives wanted to take me in so I was sent to live with family friends who I lived with from 4-18. At 18, I left to college and was on my own and haven’t heard from the family friend since I left which this was almost 10 years ago now. My parents are not poor nor rich Jamaicans, very strongly middle class. My siblings when to okay schools and have visas to several places.
WhatsApp didn’t come out till I was in high school so I only heard from my parents on Sundays growing up. Except for a two year span when I didn’t hear from my mom because apparently I disrespected her? Until I was hit by a car and thrown into a coma, then she started coming around to coach me about lawyer and money. She asked for money to fix her house. I didn’t give, which I’m glad I didn’t because I ended up finding out years later she bought a big prestigious scheme house and she wanted my money for an addition.
I can count on one hand how many times I was sent to collect western union, how many birthday gifts, Christmas gifts I ever received. Since I turned 18 I have been on my own standing on my own to feet and never asking anyone for anything. I go to Jamaica very often and I pay my own way for everything as I’m doing fine in life now. Smile with the family, let my parent talk big as if they had some type of involvement in my success. I’m just grateful for the friends I’ve made along the way cause bwoy mi woulda mad out long time tpc.

Two summers ago, I drove 7 hours one way to buy a 2019 Manual Genesis G70. It was used, not certified preowned, with just under 12K miles. The OEM tires were approaching the end of their useful life. It had one scratch on the rear passenger door and an annoying dealership permanent sticker on the trunk. It also only had one key. The head unit infotainment screen also had a small delamination crack - visible if you looked close but not perceptible if you ran your fingers across it. I bought it as is, though Genesis has a stellar warranty that transfers to the second owner so I still had 2 years warranty remaining. It was too far away for me to get it to a trusted mechanic to PPI, so the warranty was a huge factor.
On a long drive to the beach, the screens began to flicker. The car still ran mechanically fine, but it was alarming. I also noticed I couldn't get the Genesis Connected Services to work. A few weeks later, the screens were flickering again in my driveway. I shut the car off thinking if I just shut it off and turned it back on it would fix itself - for about 5 minutes I couldn't restart the car. It was as though it had a completely dead battery. I took it to my local dealer which unfortunately is an hour away but fortunately is reached through a combination of great back roads and highways. They were unable to replicate the issue but decided to attribute it to the head unit and replaced the entire thing on the basis of the delamination crack being covered by warranty. A week after I got the car back, the screens flickered again. I tried doing an over the air software update with Genesis Corporate over the phone and it kept failing, so we went back to the dealership. They manually did the update. After a few more weeks, the screens flickered again. I took it back down and they decided to go nuclear, completely uninstalling all software and updates from the car and then reinstalling the latest software as a clean slate. When I got it back - my genesis connected services were working and the screens never flickered again. BUT. My backup camera would now randomly stop working. I took it back and they tried a patch update to the backup camera software as well as replacing a crush washer that's apparently a known failure point for the backup camera. The problem persisted. They informed me there is a sensor in the transmission that tells the backup camera when the car is in reverse and when to turn on. That sensor apparently failed, and the solution is apparently to replace the entire transmission. I personally found that insane, but a new clutch and transmission covered fully under warranty? Sure, I'll enjoy your courtesy car a little longer. Yeah, on that note. Having the car in and out of the shop so often was annoying, but it was all covered under Genesis phenomenal warranty, the dealership was surprisingly patient, understanding and communicative, and since they're an hour away I had an opportunity to enjoy some courtesy cars on a good mix of backroads and highways. The courtesy cars I had in no particular order...

• 2023 Genesis G70, 2.0 Turbo AWD. Felt heavy and the automatic transmission seems to take up more space in the center console than the manual. Definitely quicker than my car, but I don't enjoy the weightyness to it. I think it might have something to do with how the power is being put down? Like it IS faster than my car and it DOES have better traction in corners but it FEELS much heavier.
  
• 2023 Sonata N-Line. Feels fast and light but not for me. The interior after getting out of a G70 is a let down and the front wheel drive and extra power don't do enough to make up for it. To clarify - I think this is a fun car if you want a quick, front wheel drive sedan - but it's not my cup of tea.
  
• 2022 Genesis G80. Cannot say enough good things about this car. Feels like a true luxobarge. Gorgeous, comfortable, quiet interior, everything feels heavy and expensive but it also has the power to get out of its own way. This was by far, hands down, no comparison, the best courtesy car I've ever been given. I'd go as far as to say it's one of the best cars I've ever driven in my life. That's relative of course, but it really was just such an impressive vehicle. It was hard to find anything not to like about it.
  
• 2023 Genesis G70, 3.3 twin turbo AWD. Holy hell this thing moves. So, this car has the sunroof - which I hate. In G70s with the sunroof, I have to put the seat all the way on the floor to have headroom. I'm 5'11" with a 32 inch inseam if that gives you an idea of my torso/leg ratio. It also had the same heavyness I felt in the 2.0 AWD courtesy car - it's something to do with the AWD but I don't know if it's how the system moves power around or if it's literally just the added weight of the system. It doesn't feel flickable the way my RWD car feels. And before you call me an idiot for describing my G70 as flickable, understand it's all relative and I haven't owned or driven that many performance cars in my life. I know my car isn't a miata. That all being said. So. Freaking. Fast. The V6 has a really unique sound to it unlike any other V6 I've experienced, I can't decide if I like it or not but it's definitely unique. The speed is really incredible and the AWD makes it so usable. You can floor it turning right or left off the line at a stoplight and it will hold the road and put the power down. If I weren't so sure this car would get me arrested, I'd want one.
  

I got my car back and I haven't had any issues with screens or backup cameras or anything else since the transmission replacement. So what's to love? Small, sporty, rear wheel drive car that has the power to break traction but isn't so powerful that you can't use all your gears. To me this car is straddling the line of slow car fast. It's incredibly comfortable, has a great stereo, looks cool, and it's got enough room for me, my spouse, my dog and a child seat. Also so glad I got the manual when I did - manual G70s are not easy to find. This was one of four for sale within 500 miles of my zip when I bought it. The rear seat is actually usable, but the foot room is tight. I'm 5'11 with a 32 inch inseam. If I take my shoes off, I can sit behind my driving position. I have the knee and hip room - but the foot room is very tight for an adult male. Decent gas mileage if you're not driving it like a hooligan. Feels light and eager to turn, even at speed.
What's not so good? The trunk has a high load floor so even though you have a good opening and footprint, it's shallow. It's not unusable, it's just not as deep as you'd expect it to be. I was still able to fit everything my spouse, my dog and I needed for a week at the beach. Speaking of long trips - no spare tire. That pissed me off. Not even a space saver? Come on. I think it should be a legal requirement that all cars have at least a space saver. In any case, this car can accept the same space saver spare kit the 3.3 model comes with or the Kia Stinger comes with. I ordered the parts online and installed a space saver spare myself. The backup camera shuts off as soon as you're out of reverse, even if you're rolling backwards in neutral. This is a nitpick, but I do wish the backup camera would stay on until I was rolling forward. Speaking of reverse, the pedal box is tight and I usually wear an 11 or 12 shoe depending on the brand. With certain shoes, I have to modify my left foot motion because my toe will catch the arm of the clutch pedal. Not impossible, but it can be annoying in certain pairs of shoes or if you have big feet.
Clutch and Transmission :: I'm gonna give this it's own section because I feel like this is a very case sensitive matter. Manuals I drove before this - a 2011 Subaru Outback. First manual car I bought and I drove it for 120K miles before an old dude in a Yukon totaled it. Some people have said they don't enjoy the feeling of this transmission, I don't have much to compare it to. I think the stick feel is fine. The actual clutch is a toss up for me. It's hydraulic, so on one hand it's buttery smooth and easy and very forgiving if you're doing a drive through or in stop and go traffic - things I took pains to avoid in my outback. The flip side is, the pedal gives you very little feedback. The bite point is harder to feel and it definitely numbs the experience a bit. If you're looking for a very raw, analog feeling transmission this is not it. This feels much more like an entry level luxury sport sedan that was given a manual just because it would be cool to have a manual, but also trying to do one in such a way that it wouldn't alienate luxury car buyers who generally find manuals to be a nuisance.
Would I go through it all again? Absolutely. The dealer trips were annoying but it let me test drive some cool stuff and I never paid a dime. The only thing I paid for was an oil change, a new set of tires (not from the dealer) and a new key cause I wanted to have two. The key was $700 which is offensive but unfortunately not unheard of with modern cars. The car is a blast. If you want a smallish, luxuryish, sportscarish vehicle that gives you a lot of nice stuff without being too expensive or too harsh, check out a G70. If you're a manual purist, you may love it or hate it - the clutch is definitely a sticking point for many people. Genesis Dealer? Mine is great, thank god. But I have heard plenty of horror stories from other owners who went to more Hyundai focused dealers. Maintenance? No mechanical issues at all, just weird software related glitches that were all covered under warranty. Mods? Not really planning anything big. I added a sun strip to the windshield, a dash cam and wiring for my radar detector. Also the spare tire. And I put PS4s on it. I plan to keep it stock - at least until it's paid off and the warranty is out.
Questions for reddit :: Catch cans! Should I have one on this car? Is there a recommended brand? Do your mechanics charge you more to empty them or do you empty them yourselves? What does a catch can do that the OEM air oil separator doesnt?
TL;DR :: I like my manual G70. It isn't very fast, but I like it.

Hello,
So I read on reddit that a lot of people with hyperhidrosis use the sock trick to not sweat on hands and feet. See link: https://www.reddit.com/Hyperhidrosis/comments/o0mlhh/socks/
Basically the sock trick is to put on socks so the sweating stops, it does for me but when I put on shoes with socks I start to sweat a lot again. I kind of need to only use socks / socks with sandals. Does anyone experience the same thing?
I may think that our sensory nerves are not working correct, because besides the socks and shoes, I don’t like to touch certain fabrics such as polyester and plastic. clipping nails is also weird for some reason...? Also I experience cold feet and hands and narrow blood vessels when I am sweating. Takes little stress or emotions to set the sweating off.
Anyhow, stay safe and grind on :)

So my prior to my current bf, I’ve never ever had thrush. But one day my bf and I were in the car and he put his hand down there, and after that I got thrush?
Every now and then, when we’ve had sex or even just using hands, I get it… it’s so random.
He’s a clean guy, doesn’t use anything weird on his hands - I’ve asked. He cleans down there normally.. I just don’t get it! It could be that it’s not wet enough down there, but that being said when I was with my exes, 9/10 I was bone dry not turned on at all (bad I know) and never had this issue.
We use lube sometimes and that does help on occasion.
I honestly feel like for some reason I end up being torn a bit down there inside and then it causes thrush. It’s not always full cottage cheese situ but just swollen and itchy for a few days at least.
Why?!

Hi everybody, I was wondering if anybody had a similar experience. All 4 wisdom teeth were removed last year and especially my lower right extraction has been really slow to heal. It has been 10 months and the symptoms have been unchanged for most of this time.
The muscles inside of the cheek (one side only) and towards the back of the jaw (pterygoid muscles, I think) feel swollen and I can feel that they are hard and protrude further into the mouth than the other side. It is not overly painful but it is annoying and slightly sore all the time. No real trismus but I can't open it quite as wide as the other side of my jaw. There is a hard "bump" where the wisdom tooth used to be, which is also not the case on the other side.
I was just at the surgeon who did the extractions and had an...interesting experience where he claimed this is completely unrelated to the extraction. Supposedly, I grind my teeth and that is the reason (which he never mentioned before and my regular dentist denies is the case. I never had any problems like that before and it appeared directly after the extraction) As you can imagine, I don't really believe him.
I have an appointment with a different surgeon in 3 weeks but wanted to ask if anybody knows what it could be.

chapters 1&2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
The lecture was supposed to be on Rationality 101, apparently not for Newcomers only. Serene was there to have her back but G was having a hard time focusing.
The boring black uniform more fitting for a hotel receptionist defaced the godlike beauty standing in front of a huge screen. Gentry couldn’t believe her eyes: this was the man she had her hands on a little while ago?
No, it couldn’t be.
It had been just an avatar, too perfect in its unblemished visage, too pure for this world. Yet the man whose face she remembered as if it was etched on the back of her eyelids, who she’d been constantly thinking about, who her hands itched to snatch, was standing right there, in the flesh.
Back in the dreamy simulated world she caught herself thinking that a trim waist like this couldn’t anatomically work on a human, yet here he was: a towering spread of fit shoulders perfectly balanced above the flexible whip of his midsection. The light-grey eyes that betrayed every movement of his pupils were as real as the ones that reflected the mock moon during her test. Below them lay the sharp slope of the cheekbones one could cut themselves on.
The only thing a bit different, apart from the outfit choice, was the young god’s hair. In the simulation, it was flowing and probably too long to be practical. This person’s mane was much shorter and fell down his neck in a neat ponytail, tastefully tamed with a single hairpin.
She had to get her hands on this treasure.
He was making last minute preparations for the lecture, looking through the papers on the desk, dark strands framing his face, light grey eyes sharp in careful concentration.
Professor Q, huh.
He said this was his name, and so did the note on the lecture hall door.
She was sure it was the man who had melted in her arms making the most delicious sounds a male throat could produce.
Had he recognised her?
Unlikely.
At the time of the simulation session, she didn’t have a camera that could pick up her facial features but just to be on the safe side, she decided to go by “G” in his class. There were bound to be lots of people with a name starting with a G, right? What would be the odds it was this particular newcomer that Q had tested that would end up in his class?
The man finally lifted his eyes at the audience and a gentle smile momentarily graced his features before disappearing as if he didn’t see someone he’d expected to.
The holoboard on the wall behind him obediently lit up following his nonchalant gesture. Gentry found it annoying that one needed a pair of special glasses to see all the augmented reality stuff and really navigate the city but again, with Sereen’s help she had more or less gotten used to it in the couple of days she had to deal with the necessities like settling down, getting food and finding her way around Ashtapada.
Still, could they use a piece of chalk or, at least, a marker to write on the board? No need to show off your Fully Automated Luxury Space Communism tech just to write a couple of notes on the board!
On second thought, high-tech-crazy or not, if this city brought up men like this one, she would definitely do her best to stay here to… reap the benefits!
They took a desk next to a huge clear floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the winter garden.
“Professor Q seems a little distracted today,” Sereen said, swiftly tapping a couple of buttons on G’s wrist to show her how to confirm that she was attending the lecture. “He’s usually much more chatty and friendly. I wonder what got into him.”
“Is he?” Gentry responded with an artificial air of indifference. “I just hope he’s more open to a discussion than that Poe guy.”
“He is! And Professor Poe isn’t that bad,” Sereen reprimanded before chuckling a little — since his little secret became known to students, he became known as Holopoe. “Just wait and see, it’s gonna be a blast. Q’s lectures are always very engaging.”
It proved to be utter bullshit.
After fiddling with the symbols on the interactive screen for ten minutes into the class, students getting more and more agitated behind his back, the lecturer seemed to give up. Turning back to the audience, he absentmindedly nodded to a couple of people in the lecture hall and sighed with a painfully fake smile.
“For today’s class, we are going to need to read a certain extract from a book,” he said, tone apologetic for some reason, but it solidified G’s conviction that she already knew this person. “I’ve just sent it to each of your wristcomms. We’ll have some quiet time and read it by ourselves, alright?”
“Reading from the comm?” Sereen mumbled to herself. “Couldn’t he just print them out?”
The rest of the students’ grumbles showed that they shared her disappointment. Q could only hopelessly smile again before returning to his work on the board.
Reading from the little semi-transparent screens was indeed torture. Quickly giving up on trying to awkwardly use gestures for scrolling through the text, she looked out of the window to entertain herself with the garden outside. From the modest height they were sitting at, the people below were quite discernible, partly hidden by the greenery, spread here and there in small groups and pairs. Gentry longed to be there, too. What was the use of being here with the most attractive person in the whole world if the only thing she could see was his back?
Well, the back didn’t look half bad, if she was honest, and what was below also pleased the eye.
But still. It would soon bore even the most easily entertained.
Her gaze fell to a small clearing where a lone male figure was sitting, writing something in a notebook. By the looks of it, the notebook was a real paper-made thing without the bells and whistles usual for Ashtapada. The next thing G noticed was a pair of slender legs, barefoot, stretched to dip the toes into the clear water of the artificial stream.
God bless the urban designers of this place!
The figure lifted the head and in an inconceivably graceful motion, swung the long blond bangs away from the face.
G straightened her back. Was it... Ok, maybe Q was the most handsome man she’d seen in her life but this... This was the younger boy she’d noticed a couple of days back, the one in a plaid skirt, shamelessly flirting with everyone within reach. Today, he wasn’t wearing one but the blue jeans hugging his thighs, rolled up almost to the knees, presented a picture just as tantalizing. Even with the hair was a completely different colour, even though the half-up, half-down style kept his face hidden, she was absolutely certain it was the same person.
Just you wait, young beauty, as soon as this “lecture” was over, your princess in shining armour was coming to pick you up!
Suddenly snapping out of the dull weariness, she turned on the auglasses S helped her obtain earlier and tapped away on her comm screen.
What a chance to give the local text sharing feature a go!
“The garden is pretty, but with a blossom like you, it is truly breathtaking. I wonder if anyone has picked this sweet flower or if anyone dares to,” she typed a cheesy note and folded the message into a neat 3D figurine of an origami paper crane with her fingers in the air.
Was S watching? Screw it, even if she was, she couldn’t read the message with her glasses off, right?
Carefully aiming the device at the lone figure, she launched the crane downwards, and it fluttered like a weightless butterfly in spirals, through the glass and right into the young man’s lap, not disturbing the notebook pages. He started at first at the intrusion but then turned his own glasses on and unfolded the message. A shy smile appeared on his plump lips, and he looked flattered, turning his head around to see if the sender was in sight. Catching no one, he typed something below the initial message and deftly folded it back into a crane that, to G’s surprise, flew directly at her, in uneven spirals along the wall. The man traced it with a smile, propping himself back on his arms, his whole slim body and face on full display now.
God, was he good-looking.
Easily passing the physical border of the glass again, the crane crashed into Gentry’s wristcomm, dutifully delivering the message and betraying her tactical position at the same time. An amused kind of surprise showed on the young man’s face and he waved at her to show that she had been exposed. She waved back, trying to look nonchalant but probably failing miserably.
Very smooth, G, way to go.
The message read, “Is a flower only good for looking at? Not this one.”
Oooh, this boy was playing with fire!
“Hey, G,” Sereen nudged. “Have you finished reading?”
“Mm? Oh, yeah.” Gentry lied easily. She had skimmed the first couple of paragraphs and was sure she’d be able to come up with something if asked.
“Done everybody?” the deep gentle voice called from the holoboard and G’s attention snapped back to the dignified face.
The class murmured affirmatively.
“I’m sorry today’s lecture isn’t as fun as usual,” he admitted. “I must say I’m still unsure how to approach such complex topic as this one. But with your help, I hope we’ll figure it out.”
Everyone seemed to perk up.
“You just read an extract on paradoxes,” Q went on. “And you might be wondering why we are raising a philosophical topic on a rational thinking course.”
“There you go,” Sereen whispered. “He’s back to normal!”
G humphed. This did seem interesting. Was it a good idea to read the extract after all?
Q continued, “In the text, you might have encountered the definition of a paradox. Would anyone explain it with their own words?”
A raised hand and the lecturer’s nod brought some courageous soul to their feet.
“It’s when you start with the correct premises, use consistent logic but wind up with an impossible conclusion,” they said. “There are three types: falsidical, veridical and antimony-type, which are...”
“Correct,” Q smiled and nodded the person back down. It was a smile worth starting a thousand wars over.
“Now there’s a reason why I asked you to read about them. Why do you think people have been fascinated with paradoxes for such a long time?”
S raised her hand and received a kind invitation.
“I might be wrong,” she said. “But it seems that they point at the limitations of our thinking, things that seem rational but in fact aren’t. We feel that with our all-conquering logic we can solve any puzzle but it’s not always the case. Right?”
“This is very insightful,” the teacher confirmed. “It is believed by many that what’s rational is true and therefore what rationality cannot explain must be false.”
“I definitely know someone who would die on that hill,” Gentry grumbled under her breath.
“I’m sorry?” Q asked. “Is there something you wanted to add... sorry, I don’t know your name?”
Still half mad with professor Poe, Gentry stood up. “It’s G, I’m a Newcomer. I was saying how a human mind can fool itself into thinking it knows what it looks at as long as it makes sense. But in reality, it’s not there, like the sky.”
That was the only thing she remembered from that last lecture! She felt the tips of her ears heat up but the kind and considering look on Q’s face showed her gamble paid off.
“These are very insightful observations, G, why don’t we try exploring them together?” — he waived her to sit down and turned back to the class — “Five minutes to discuss how paradoxes might reveal the weaknesses of rational thinking. Send your answers to the board when you’re done.”
“Whoa, daring as usual,” Sereen smiled. “I knew you’d enjoy his class.”
“Now, consider these two questions,” Q said to another student who stood up at his hand wave. “If an unstoppable force meets an indestructible object, what is going to happen?”
The person seemed to contemplate it for a while and the teacher didn’t rush him.
“Isn’t it one of those which are impossible to solve because the existence of the one automatically disproves the existence of the other?”
Q nodded, “Correct. The second one about the barber in a small town is of the same sort. Sereen?”
S stood up too, “The one that shaves all and only men that don’t shave themselves?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “At first, a premise like this seems perfectly reasonable, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” S responded, somewhat rashly. “But it’s clear that a barber like this cannot exist.”
“Wait, really?” Gentry whispered as Q nodded in satisfaction and urged her friend to go on.
“Yes, if we ask ourselves if this barber shaves himself. If he doesn’t, then he is part of the group which he does shave that do not shave themselves, but if he is in this group, then he does shave himself which makes it impossible for him to be this barber by definition.”
While the rest of the class was catching up with the logic, Q’s smile got only wider, more inviting.
“What does it tell us about the nature of the premise then?” he asked.
“That although it seems that it sounds logical on the surface, it is in fact nonsense and we don’t even need to hear the rest of the riddle to discard it completely,” S concluded.
The man chuckled.
“Well, I wouldn’t be that brash, to be honest, but on balance, you’re right,” he said. “If you stay after the lecture, I might recommend a couple of books on the topic. Your Newcomer friend is welcome to stay, too.”
G put up the best of the aloof fronts, “I’d be happy to, Professor.”
“Q is fine,” he smiled again and went on addressing the rest of the class that immediately exploded into a heated discussion.
***
“Basically, what I think we’re supposed to learn from this,” S concluded after a while, standing up so that everyone could hear her. “Is that before applying rationality, we have to make sure that all the premises we are dealing with are in fact realistic. Otherwise, there is no way rational thinking will help us.”
“Excellently put, as always,” Q applauded. “I’d love to see if everyone agrees or has something else to add to the discussion but our time is up. Feel free to write me a letter with your reflections on the topic.”
As interesting as the class was, the urge to leave the premises as soon as the teacher dismissed everyone seemed to be universal and applicable even to the Ashtapadans.
“I have to go now,” Sereen said. “Text you later, ok?” And with a reciprocal nod to Q, disappeared in the doors, joining the rest of the students.
Sadly, she couldn’t recall what they were talking about after the lecture, nor what titles Professor recommended for some home reading. She just hoped she didn’t make a fool of herself.
What Gentry did remember though was that after Q left as well and she came up to the panoramic window, Sereen and the mysterious flower boy were leaving the garden together. And it was hard not to notice that her new friend took off her wristcomm before they took off, and hid it in the tall grass.

This is a rundown of the predominant intelligent races on my fantasy version of Saturn, which is a sword-and-sorcery world loosely based on Classical mythology. Your feedback is greatly appreciated!
Aranians are the oldest of Saturn’s intelligent races. Like their kin the Arthropoids, they are entomons, with multi-jointed legs and semi-flexible exoskeletons. Unlike the Arthropoids, they are only slightly humanoid. Their lower bodies are spider-like, with eight legs and large abdomens, while their upper bodies are more humanoid, although they have six arms and numerous eyes. Once long ago, they boasted a planet-spanning civilization; they were the first to develop philosophy and art, mathematics and astrology, architecture and literature. But in the apocalypse of the Day of Wrath, their civilization was annihilated, and today, the descendants of those ancient Aranians have largely forgotten about the glories of their once-proud people. Many Aranians, such as the Slavars, live nomadic existences, although a few settled Aranian nations, such as Anansazi and Ctenizan, still exist.
{Classical Mythology equivalent: Centaurs}
Arthropoids are entomons, insect-like creatures with semi-flexible exoskeletons, but are far more humanoid than their Aranian cousins. Most are of human height, with two legs and four arms, but a few are smaller, such as the ant-like Marwari, who stand roughly four feet tall, or the flea-like Zaoi, who are usually less than three feet in height. Most Arthropoids have wings, which allow them to fly thanks to their irridescent membranes, membranes which manipulate colour and permit flight despite the Arthropoids’ weight. Unlike the Dendryads, the Arthropoids are not a single species, but rather a collection of many species that are not capable of interbreeding. A wide variety of nations have been founded by the Arthropoids—the expansive empire of Marwar, the reclusive land of Aed, the militaristic Vazhka—and in a few places, mainly Naranj and Merinj, they live in harmony with the Dendryads. In the main, however, a state of war usually exists between the Dendryads and the Arthropoids, as the two “superraces” compete for control of Saturn.
{Classical Mythology equivalent: Myrmidons, Amazons}
Although Dendryads appear to be plants, they are not. They are instead phyta, a kingdom of organisms that split off from plants roughly 400 million years ago. Humanoid, like almost all creatures native to Saturn the Dendryads have six limbs, four arms and two legs. Unlike the Arthropoids, the Dendryads are a single species, although with astonishing diversity; their subraces are capable of interbreeding, but this usually requires divine intervention. Most races of Dendryads are sequential hermaphrodites: they change from male to female or female to male periodically throughout their lives. Over the millennia, the Dendryads have spread out across the surface of Saturn, forming mighty kingdoms and vast empires. Today, most Dendryads would assert that, even if their own nation is not particularly powerful, the greatest and most puissant of Saturn’s civilizations are still Dendryad. The most notable of these is Aquarium, the Golden City, the Light of the World, the last remnant of the Anthemite Empire and defender of civilization since Anthem’s fall ten thousand years ago. Other Dendryad kingdoms of note are Naranj and Merinj, Dzjanggakh, Mora, and Qoq. With the fall of Anthem, though, the Dendryad position is threatened by rising powers, most of which are either Arthropoid or Mykobold in ethnicity. On multiple fronts, the Aquarine Empire is challenged: by its ancient enemy Marwar, by the new and dynamic Swarm of the Azzuzzazi, by invading Slavars. Only time will tell if Aquarium can withstand this onslaught of “barbarians”.
{Classical Mythology equivalent: Dryads}
Mykobolds are the fungal equivalent of Dendryads. Shorter than the Dendryads, they prefer dark and moist regions of Saturn, such as deep caves, swamps, and the undergrowth of many of Saturn’s forests. This often brings them into contact with the te’Ythul (see below), often at the Mykobolds’ cost. Their relations with the other races of Saturn vary significantly depending on the tribe of Mykobolds and the counterparty: the Russulkas or Redcaps are mischievous bordering on murderous, the Troggoths of the subterranean empire of Troggoroth are insane cultists, the Kuba are peaceful shamans, the Lichens are undead necromancers who possess the rotting bodies of other races, the Gomphlins are friendly but isolationist, the Thallids have an ancient but proud scholarly tradition, and so forth. Recently, many tribes of Mykobolds have begun migrating from their traditional strongholds into the vacuum left by the decaying eastern half of the Anthemite Empire, creating new petty kingdoms for themselves and occasionally finding themselves as the ruling class over Dendryads. This has led to tension between the two ethnicities.
{Classical Mythology equivalent: Troglodytae}
The Coral Brains are not, strictly speaking, a race in the same way as the others. They are, instead, vast colonies of polyps that function as enormous neural networks. Once a single supercomputer that covered much of the surface of Saturn, the coral was shattered during the Day of Wrath and many fragments were ejected into Saturn’s atmosphere and beyond. Now the remaining pieces, which range in size from a few dozen meters across to dozens of miles, roam the skies of Saturn, kept aloft by careful channeling of colour which provides an antigravity force. It also fuels their computation. Some of them have seen their surfaces colonized by other races, but those settlers exist on the coral brains only at the brains’ sufferance. For at least a million years, the coral brains have been locked in a secret war with the Shimmering Demons, recruiting from the other races individuals and sometimes entire nations as pawns in their struggle to control Saturn; most notably, both sides have engaged the services of what remains of Anthem’s ceramic legions as foot soldiers.
{Classical Mythology equivalent: Genii Loci}
The te’Ythul, or Spawn of Ythul, are one of the most ancient and mysterious of Saturn’s races. These hulking giants, who can reach heights of thirty feet, are found only in humid and swampy areas, where the water in the air keeps their mucous-covered skins moist. Having arisen from the congealing, rancid blood of the thousand-mile-tall embodiment of primordial chaos Ythul when it spilled from his body on the Day of Wrath, the te’Ythul hid themselves in secret parts of the world, far from the other races towards which they were and are profoundly hostile. Many have become masters of manipulating the obsidian oil, giving them access to arcane and eldritch powers unknown and forbidden to the rest of Saturn’s peoples. A few have even taken to dabbling in anti-colour, a sinister and unholy force of unknown origins. With their dozens of tentacles, they are formidable and terrifying foes for any adventurers who encounter them, whether in the depths of the earth or secreted within foul swamps or roaming the dusk-shrouded undergrowth of Saturn’s rainforests.
{Classical Mythology equivalent: Cyclopes}
Syngnals are the messengers and servants of Phragma, the trickster goddess of magic. These small, seahorse-like creatures flit around, gradually influencing the course of Saturnian history in the direction Phragma would like it to go. Unfortunately for her, they aren’t very good at their jobs. Or maybe they are…
{Classical Mythology equivalent: Hippocampus}
Titanians and Uberonians are humanoids not native to Saturn; instead, they originated on Saturn’s moon Voeba. However, when Voeba was destroyed during the Day of Wrath, its inhabitants were forced to migrate elsewhere, to other moons. One group settled on Titan; the other, after finding their first choice of Hyperion unsuitable, eventually formed a new society on Rhea. Not being native Saturnians, they only have four limbs, rather than the standard six, and they have a higher level of technology than the Saturnians, boasting flying saucers, rocket ships, and rayguns. Since the Day of Wrath, they have been locked in a cold war for control of Saturn’s moons and rings, largely ignoring the planet itself, which they regard as inhabited by primitives. Of the two, the Titanian are marginally more benevolent, although both nations feel perfectly free to abduct Saturnians and probe them, or, in the case of the Uberonians, enslave them for their own amusement. This latter habit is frowned upon by the Titanians, who attempt to enforce what they call the “First Order”, which states that more advanced and sophisticated and, frankly, intelligent races are not supposed to meddle in the affairs of primitives, because primitives, with their primitive planet-bound brains, simply cannot grasp how dangerous even a single piece of Titanian or Uberonian technology can be to a witless primitive. That raygun? Put it down. That com-talker? Put it down. That belt buckle? Put it down! The Titanian Ring Patrol, with its stalwart band of Space Marshals, attempts to enforce the law on a largely lawless Ring system, but even they periodically break the First Order, usually because the Uberonians broke it first or because the primitives had already been exposed to advanced technology or because the captain really didn’t feel like following it.
{Norse Mythology equivalent: Ljósálfar and Dökkálfar}
The Shimmering Demons, like the Titanians and Uberonians, are not native to Saturn. In fact, no one knows where they come from, exactly. What is known is that they don’t seem to be entirely…here. Flickering in and out of perception, they are found throughout Saturn, usually as traders, but what they trade in is…odd. Want wealth? They’re happy to oblige, in exchange for a handful of twigs. Want power? Sure thing; you’ll just need to give them your happiest memory. Want immortality? It only costs a broken sword. Want true love? Not a problem—but you’ll be sacrificing all the messy complexity of a real relationship…which the demons are glad to take off your hands. It’s been noticed that people who deal with them come away from the transaction a little…flatter, somehow; a little more two-dimensional. Those of the demons who aren’t engaged in trade are busy measuring. They measure everything, absolutely everything—from the diameter of that tree to exactly how much of a “hero” you are--and when they aren’t measuring, they’re cataloguing. They catalog everything. Even people. They would classify you as a web-based amateur worldbuilder grade B+ (not to be confused with a web-based amateur worldbuilder grade B++). Would you be interested in being reclassified as a web-based amateur worldbuilder grade A---? They have an installment plan…
{Classical Mythology equivalent: none}

I'm just trying to get possibly another perspective on this situation. I don't want to call my doctor yet to discuss it unless I know it could be a serious problem.
I'm supposed to be 6 months on T by now. In reality I've only been ON T for 5 because a month ago my formula got back ordered at quite literally every pharmacy in my city(I called almost all of the ones google would show me to ask). After like a week of back and forth with pharmacies and with my doctor, I decided my best option would just be to go in and get switched to a different formula. After getting canceled on the first time, I went back about a week ago and got switched. So, after a month of being off T I finally got my refill 2 days ago and gave myself my shot in my right thigh.
Here's where the concerns come from: my thigh is now noticeably swollen on the side where I did the shot, and extremely tender to the touch. I'm not sure exactly what I did wrong. (i do .25 subq once/wk) I was having trouble holding the fat on my thigh when I did it (it's hot as tits where i live rn and my everything was covered in a thin layer of sweat). But I didn't think it was that bad, it still looked like I was holding enough and I managed to do the whole injection and keep my grip. Idk, I've had a nurse explain to me twice now how to do the shots and I swear on my soul I think I'm doing it exactly how it was shown to me every time I have a problem like this.
About 3 months in I actually already switched formulas. I started on cypionate, but switched to enanthate after discussing with my provider that I was having issues with redness and itchiness at injection sites. I explained to her how I had been doing the injections and I had just been doing them too high up on my thigh, but she decided to switch me anyone as a precaution. I've now just switched back from enanthate(out of stock everywhere) to cypionate(the injection i just gave myself the other day).
I genuinely don't know what I'm doing wrong at this point and I don't think I can mentally handle even one more week of having to be off my T while I jump through 89 hoops just to get treatment that works for me.
Idk it can also just be really discouraging. I have yet to have the process of my getting my T refilled go smoothly. There's always some kind of issue. I was euphoric for so long over the major changes I was seeing and that kind of just got stomped all over by the system intentionally designed to make this as hard as possible. Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I don't really have a choice. I'm sure other trans people can relate. I have to get this treatment or it will mean very bad consequences for my mental state, if you catch my meaning. Giving up just because they want to make it as difficult as possible isn't an option.
But anyways, I'm just wondering if anybody might have some advice that might help me going forward with my shots. And if I should be worried about the current swelling and soreness.