I've never had a yeast infection and I think I may have one now. I came home from a beach trip about four days ago and at some point on the trip I began to feel itching down there- whole it isn't completely unbearable its this strong irritation that I'm constantly aware of. I haven't had sex in about a year so I know it isn't an sti and I don't have any discharge in my underwear when I check with a finger inside It does come back with some white bits. I want to go to the obgyn but they're open mon-fri 9 to 5 and those are my working hours- plus I have a job with no benefits that doesn't really give me the chance to go during those hours so I'm kinda screwed. Are there any over the counter treatments you'd reccomend? About to do a cvs run and then put my clothes and sheets all In the wash as a preventative measure

I had contamination OCD for ages but it has been getting progressively worse last year…
Yesterday I imagined that my phone will leak something toxic and then I felt a sensation of liquid dropping on my thigh and for the rest of the day I felt an itching/burning feeling on it
Today I accidentally licked my wrist (yeah) and now I have a tingling sense on the tip of the tongue. A strand of hair touched my lip and it’s tingling too now. Touched an exit door with a finger and now it aches. My brain seems to think that everything is super toxic or something, and if I start giving into thinking about it, it actually starts making sense to me and panic grows inside me…
Anybody else has this “contact pain/tingling”?

My crazy symptoms after strange infection - neurological and flushing
In august last year I had strong infection, I was sweating by month, extreme fatigue, swollen lymph node under armpit.
Since then I have tons of symptons:

• neuropathic pain in back, deep pain in spine
• right shoulder blade is painful and deep itching, extremely weird tingling pain deep, when I move my arm
• my back feels so messed up I feel asymetric when I walk, when I breathe I feel pain in lot of different places in body
• redness on face, flushing, red ears, heatwaves and warm feeling (mostly at night) - when my face is flushed, symptoms of pins needles burning are the worst
• electric, neuralgic pains in face, head, scalp, pain when I move my eyes deep in face
• body itching, itch deep inside ears, face
• skin on face, scalp, eyelids twitch randomly, like electric shocks
• fatigue, brain fog
• brain zaps
• pins needles in feet, body for example when I put my clothes on
• random warm feelings in legs like hot water in legs
• hives which disappeared mostly

Here are pics of my red face flushed:
https://ibb.co/album/WWw7VS
Bloodwork is ok. Is it some kind of long covid? Taking gabapentin, doesnt help too much. Antihistamines doesnt work (ketotifen too) so not MCAS..Please, tell me which lab tests should I take. Please, I feel like a living dead.

Have you heard of Batana Oil and its amazing benefits for hair?
In this article, we will explore what Batana Oil is, how it is made, and the numerous advantages it offers for hair care.
From promoting hair growth to reducing dandruff, Batana Oil has become a popular choice for those seeking healthier and stronger hair.
We will also discuss any potential side effects, how to use Batana Oil effectively, and where you can purchase this miracle oil.
Let's dive into the world of Batana Oil and discover why it has garnered so much attention in the beauty industry.

👉 Klick hier für mehr Informationen

Key Takeaways:

• Batana Oil is a natural hair oil that is made from the nuts of the tropical American Batana tree.
• It is known for its numerous benefits such as promoting hair growth, moisturizing and nourishing hair, and reducing dandruff and scalp irritation.
• Before using Batana Oil, it is important to be aware of potential side effects such as allergic reactions and greasiness. It can be purchased online or at local stores.

What is Batana Oil?

Batana Oil, also known as Miskito Oil, is a natural oil derived from the nuts of the American palm tree, Elaeis Oleifera, native to Central America, particularly Honduras. It has been traditionally used by the Miskito people for its therapeutic properties in promoting hair and skin health.
For centuries, the Miskito people have treasured Batana Oil for its deeply rooted cultural significance. This ancestral knowledge and tradition have been passed down through generations, highlighting the deep connection between the people and this natural remedy. The process of extracting the oil is a meticulous craft, involving traditional methods that honor the palm tree's natural gifts. The rich nutrients present in Batana Oil make it a versatile elixir for skin rejuvenation and hair nourishment. Its moisturizing properties are renowned for promoting healthy hair growth and providing a radiant complexion.

How is Batana Oil Made?

Batana Oil is extracted through a cold pressing technique from the nuts of the American palm tree, Elaeis Oleifera, to preserve its nutrients and natural properties. This traditional method of oil extraction ensures the oil retains its therapeutic benefits.
The process of making Batana Oil through cold pressing involves carefully selecting ripe Elaeis Oleifera nuts, which are then cracked open to reveal the kernels inside. These kernels are sun-dried before being cold pressed to extract the precious oil, ensuring that the nutrients and therapeutic properties are well-preserved. This method, commonly practiced in Central America, where the American palm tree is prevalent, is known for producing high-quality oil rich in nutrients essential for nourishing and rejuvenating the skin and hair.

What are the Benefits of Batana Oil?

Batana Oil offers numerous benefits for hair and scalp health, including promoting hair growth, nourishing the scalp with essential fatty acids like omega-3, omega-6, and omega-9, providing antioxidants for hair health, and adding shine to hair affected by environmental influences.
Originating from the lush Mediterranean region, Batana Oil has been used for centuries as a holistic solution for maintaining healthy and vibrant hair. Its natural composition not only accelerates hair growth but also aids in deeply penetrating the scalp to nourish and rejuvenate hair follicles.

• The antioxidants present in Batana Oil protect the hair from damage caused by free radicals and environmental stressors, ensuring long-lasting hair health.
• Regular use of this oil forms a protective shield around the hair strands, shielding them from harmful UV rays and pollutants.

👉 Klick hier für mehr Informationen

Promotes Hair Growth

Batana Oil stimulates hair growth by nourishing the follicles and roots with essential nutrients, promoting stronger and healthier hair growth.
One of the key factors that make Batana Oil effective for hair growth is its ability to deeply penetrate the hair follicles and strengthen the roots. This process not only encourages faster hair growth but also helps prevent hair breakage and split ends. By delivering essential nutrients such as Vitamin E, Omega-3 fatty acids, and antioxidants directly to the hair follicles, Batana Oil revitalizes the scalp, creating an optimal environment for hair growth to thrive.

Moisturizes and Nourishes Hair

Batana Oil serves as an excellent moisturizer that deeply nourishes the hair, providing essential hydration and combating frizziness. It acts as a natural conditioning oil for smoother and healthier hair.
The unique composition of Batana Oil allows it to penetrate deeply into the hair shaft, delivering nutrients that strengthen and repair damaged strands. This botanical oil is rich in antioxidants and fatty acids, which help to restore the hair's natural shine and vitality.
Regular use of Batana Oil can improve the overall health of your hair, making it more manageable and less prone to breakage. Whether you have dry, brittle hair or just need a boost of moisture, this oil is a versatile solution for all your hair care needs.

Reduces Dandruff and Scalp Irritation

Batana Oil aids in reducing dandruff and scalp irritation by restoring the scalp's microbial balance, offering therapeutic benefits for scalp health.
When the scalp's natural microbial balance is disrupted, issues like dandruff and irritation can arise. Batana Oil's unique properties help in rebalancing these microorganisms, thus calming the scalp and reducing discomfort. Its therapeutic uses extend beyond mere symptom relief, as the oil's nourishing components penetrate deep into the skin, enriching it with essential nutrients for long-lasting health. By incorporating Batana Oil into your hair care routine, you are not just tackling the visible signs of scalp issues but also nurturing and maintaining a harmonious environment on your scalp.

👉 Klick hier für mehr Informationen

Strengthens and Repairs Damaged Hair

Batana Oil strengthens and repairs damaged hair by addressing issues like split ends caused by environmental pollution, restoring hair fibres to their natural health and vitality.
The rich nutrients and essential fatty acids present in Batana Oil deeply penetrate the hair shaft, nourishing and hydrating from within. This helps in sealing the damaged cuticles, preventing further breakage and split ends. The oil's antioxidant properties combat the harmful effects of free radicals present in the environment, which often lead to hair damage. Regular use of Batana Oil can help in revitalizing and rejuvenating hair, making it stronger, healthier, and more resilient to external aggressors.

What are the Side Effects of Batana Oil?

While Batana Oil offers numerous benefits, some individuals may experience side effects such as allergic reactions, particularly those with hereditary hair loss concerns. Proper skin care is essential when using this oil.
Allergic reactions to Batana Oil can manifest as skin redness, itching, or swelling. It is important to conduct a patch test before applying the oil liberally to avoid adverse skin reactions.
Individuals with hereditary hair loss should consult their dermatologist before incorporating Batana Oil into their hair care routine.
Side effects can vary depending on individual skin sensitivity, so monitoring any changes is crucial for maintaining healthy skin. Taking precautions in skin care routines, such as using sunscreen and gentle cleansers, can help mitigate potential side effects of using Batana Oil.

Allergic Reactions

Some users may experience allergic reactions to Batana Oil due to its potent therapeutic properties. It is essential to conduct a patch test before applying it to the scalp or skin.
Allergic reactions to Batana Oil can manifest as redness, itching, swelling, or even hives on the skin. These reactions are typically more common in individuals with sensitive skin or existing allergies. The patch test helps in identifying any adverse responses before widespread application, ensuring safety.
While Batana Oil is known for its nourishing and hydrating properties, some individuals may experience side effects such as scalp irritation or mild rashes. It is recommended to discontinue use immediately if any discomfort occurs and seek medical advice.

👉 Klick hier für mehr Informationen

Despite the potential for allergic reactions, Batana Oil also offers numerous therapeutic benefits, including promoting hair growth, reducing inflammation, and improving overall scalp health.

Greasiness and Build-up

Excessive use of Batana Oil may lead to greasiness and build-up on the scalp, potentially causing irritation and other hair problems. It is advisable to use the oil in moderation.
While Batana Oil holds numerous benefits for hair, including nourishment and hydration, excessive application can have adverse effects. The build-up of oil on the scalp can clog pores, leading to scalp irritation and even hair loss over time. This greasiness not only makes the hair appear unwashed but also attracts dirt and pollutants, further exacerbating the situation.
To prevent these issues, it is crucial to strike a balance in the usage of Batana Oil, ensuring that it benefits the hair without causing any harm.

How to Use Batana Oil?

Batana Oil can be used in various ways for optimal results. It can be applied as a nourishing hair mask, a leave-in treatment for added hydration, or as a pre-shampoo treatment to protect the hair's natural nutrients.
When using Batana Oil as a hair mask, it provides deep conditioning benefits, revitalizing dry and damaged hair, leaving it soft and manageable. As a leave-in treatment, Batana Oil helps to lock in moisture, tame frizz, and promote healthy shine. Alternatively, incorporating Batana Oil into your hair care routine as a pre-shampoo treatment creates a protective barrier against the harsh effects of shampooing, ensuring that the hair retains its essential nutrients.

👉 Klick hier für mehr Informationen

As a Hair Mask

Using Batana Oil as a hair mask provides deep nourishment to the hair, enriching it with essential nutrients and offering therapeutic benefits for overall hair care.
Applying Batana Oil as a hair mask involves a simple yet effective process. Begin by sectioning your hair and warming up a small amount of Batana Oil in your hands. Then, gently massage the oil into your scalp and hair, ensuring even distribution from roots to ends.
After application, leave the oil on for at least 30 minutes to allow it to penetrate the hair shaft and nourish deeply. For enhanced effectiveness, you can wrap your hair in a warm towel or use a shower cap to create heat and enhance absorption.
Rinsing off the Batana Oil hair mask with a gentle shampoo and conditioner will leave your hair feeling soft, silky, and deeply moisturized.

As a Leave-in Treatment

Using Batana Oil as a leave-in treatment enhances hair health by providing continuous nourishment, promoting shine, and protecting hair from environmental influences.
One of the key benefits of incorporating Batana Oil into your hair care routine is its ability to deeply nourish the hair follicles, resulting in stronger and healthier locks over time. The continuous nourishment provided by this natural oil helps repair damage, reduce breakage, and improve overall hair quality. Batana Oil's rich composition of essential fatty acids and antioxidants contributes to boosting hair shine, leaving your tresses looking smooth, lustrous, and radiant.

As a Pre-shampoo Treatment

Utilizing Batana Oil as a pre-shampoo treatment helps combat dryness, strengthen hair fibres, and serve as a conditioning oil for smoother and healthier hair texture.
One of the key benefits of incorporating Batana Oil into your hair care routine is its remarkable ability to deeply moisturize and nourish the scalp, effectively addressing issues of dryness and itchiness. The oil's rich composition provides essential nutrients that penetrate the hair shaft, strengthening it from within and reducing breakage. Its conditioning properties help in detangling hair, making it more manageable and reducing frizz for a lustrous finish. Whether you have dry, damaged hair or simply want to maintain a healthy mane, this versatile oil can work wonders in revitalizing your locks.

👉 Klick hier für mehr Informationen

What are People Saying About Batana Oil?

Reviews of Batana Oil are varied, with many users expressing satisfaction with its effects on common hair problems. The oil has gained popularity, particularly in the USA, for its potential benefits.
Customers have lauded the oil's ability to nourish and strengthen hair, with positive reviews highlighting its effectiveness in reducing frizz and improving overall hair health. Many have reported that Batana Oil has helped address issues like dryness, breakage, and lackluster hair.
Notably, users in the USA have particularly embraced this product, with numerous testimonials praising its ability to provide a solution to their hair concerns. The oil is known for its natural ingredients and the visible results it delivers, making it a go-to choice for individuals seeking effective and gentle hair care solutions.

Positive Reviews

Positive reviews of Batana Oil often mention its effectiveness in promoting hair growth, enhancing shine, and its affordability with fair trade prices.
Customers have raved about how Batana Oil has transformed their hair, making it stronger and healthier with regular use. Many users have highlighted the noticeable difference in their hair texture, noting a significant reduction in breakage and split ends.
One of the most common themes in the positive reviews is how versatile the oil is - suitable for all hair types and ethnicities. Users across the board appreciate the natural ingredients and fair trade prices that make this product not only effective but also ethical.

Negative Reviews

Negative reviews of Batana Oil often cite potential side effects, concerns about fragrance in some products, or issues related to changes in hair density.
Some users have reported experiencing allergic reactions like itching, redness, or breakouts after using Batana Oil, contributing to its negative feedback. The strong fragrance present in some variations of the product has been a major turn-off for those with sensitivities or preferences for fragrance-free products. Critics also claim that inconsistent results in terms of hair density improvement have left them disillusioned with the effectiveness of the oil.

👉 Klick hier für mehr Informationen

Where to Buy Batana Oil?

Batana Oil is available for purchase through various channels, including online retailers and local stores.

1. Consumers in the USA can easily find a range of options to buy this beneficial oil. Online retailers such as Amazon, Walmart, and iHerb offer a convenient way to order Batana Oil from the comfort of your home, with quick delivery options available.
2. For those who prefer shopping at local stores, specialty beauty shops and health stores across the country often carry Batana Oil on their shelves. Check with stores like Whole Foods, Ulta Beauty, or local natural health stores to see if they have this sought-after oil in stock.

Online Retailers

Batana Oil can be conveniently purchased from online retailers, offering a wide selection and ensuring customer satisfaction with the oil's therapeutic properties.
When you buy Batana Oil from online retailers, you not only save time but also have the convenience of doorstep delivery without the hassle of visiting physical stores. Online retailers often provide detailed product descriptions, reviews, and usage tips, allowing you to make an informed purchase decision. The satisfaction of finding the perfect Batana Oil variant for your specific needs is unparalleled when shopping online. The therapeutic properties of Batana Oil can be fully enjoyed when sourced from reputable online retailers who prioritize quality and authenticity.

Local Stores

Consumers can also find Batana Oil in local stores, supporting fair trade practices and access to quality products that combat environmental influences while delivering essential nutrients for hair and skin care.
This unique oil is not only beneficial for personal care but also contributes to supporting the livelihoods of local communities through fair trade prices. By purchasing locally, customers can help reduce carbon emissions associated with long-distance transportation, aligning with environmental consciousness. In addition, the high levels of vitamin E and fatty acids in Batana Oil provide exceptional moisturizing and anti-aging properties, making it a versatile and nourishing choice for holistic skincare routines.

Final Thoughts on Batana Oil

Batana Oil presents itself as a promising natural remedy with researched benefits and unique properties. Its extraction through the cold pressed technique ensures the preservation of essential nutrients.
Research indicates that Batana Oil contains high levels of Vitamin E, Omega-6, and Omega-9 fatty acids, essential for skin and hair health. The unique properties of Batana Oil, such as its ability to deeply moisturize and nourish, make it a popular choice for dry and damaged skin. The cold pressed extraction technique used to obtain Batana Oil is crucial as it helps maintain the integrity of the oil's natural components, ensuring maximum effectiveness.

👉 Klick hier für mehr Informationen

Frequently Asked Questions

What is Batana Oil Review?

Batana Oil Review is a comprehensive analysis and evaluation of the popular hair and skin care product, Batana Oil. It provides an in-depth look at the product's ingredients, benefits, and effectiveness based on personal experiences and customer reviews.

What are the key ingredients in Batana Oil?

The main ingredient in Batana Oil is Ojon oil, a natural oil derived from the nut of the American palm tree. Other key ingredients include coconut oil, avocado oil, and essential oils such as lavender and rosemary.

What are the benefits of using Batana Oil?

Batana Oil is known for its ability to nourish and moisturize both hair and skin. It helps to repair damage, add shine, and promote overall health. It also has anti-inflammatory properties that can soothe scalp and skin irritation.

How do I use Batana Oil?

For hair, apply a small amount of Batana Oil to damp hair, focusing on the ends. For skin, massage a small amount onto clean, dry skin. Leave on for at least 30 minutes before washing off. For best results, use 2-3 times a week.

Is Batana Oil suitable for all hair and skin types?

Yes, Batana Oil is suitable for all hair and skin types. Its natural and gentle formula makes it safe for use on sensitive skin and can help improve overall condition for all hair types, including curly, straight, and chemically treated hair.

Are there any potential side effects of using Batana Oil?

There are no known side effects of using Batana Oil. However, as with any new product, it is recommended to do a patch test before use to check for any allergic reactions. If irritation occurs, discontinue use and consult a healthcare professional.

👉 Klick hier für mehr Informationen

I Accepted a Job to Film on the Dark Web
Man, I am pumped to tell you chronically online content addicts my story. Wait is that too mean of an intro? Will this get taken down for harassment since I painted too accurate a picture of the people on this site? Sorry, everyone, I’m sure you all smell like an expensive bakery and have touched grass this morning. Anyway, I promise I have something interesting. It even involves the dark web you uncreative writers cream yourselves over! I mean, totally real people speaking about their strangely similar experiences. Okay, fine I’ll stop bullying you through the screen before you click off.
This all started when I was seven years old and my parents were killed in front of me in an anti-indigenous hate crime, but let's be real you don’t care. I’m just some annoying Cherokee kid with dead parents so I’ll skip to the good parts. I spent years in an orphanage, gradually becoming more interested in death and violence. As bad as it is, I went out of my way to expose myself to that content in the hopes of desensitizing myself. Which ended up working too well, since now I’m obsessed with causing and viewing pain, though I don’t find any joy in hurting myself.
I got adopted at twelve and after a few months of staying at my new family’s home on the reservation, I went with them to a state sweatier than the average Reddit user, California. Long story short, both of my caretakers, whom I referred to as Uncle and Auntie because they could never be my parents, died. Leaving me in the care of their older son, who I call cousin. I’m not stupid enough to give up any real names, so I’ll call him Brick, cause he’s as dumb as one. He was in his early 20s when he was tasked with taking care of me and is the world’s worst excuse for a babysitter.
I’m almost always alone at the apartment, with him only coming by to drop off supplies and stay for a few hours so the neighbors don’t get too worried. Unless I get in trouble at school, then he’d suddenly give a shit. It's useful because he doesn't about the gory stuff I look at, but some display of interest would be nice. Oh well, ninety percent of the population sucks so he’s just part of the majority. Now, with that said, you’ll be able to understand the perfect storm that led me here. During my time on the deep web, I found a particular website that caught my eye. They had new footage relatively consistently and they were the easiest for me to access since I didn't go too far into the dark web, especially with all the honey pots lying around.
I even bought a couple of files for myself to study and admire. One thing irritated me though, the cameraman. He was always sobbing, breathing, shaking, or some combination of those. It seriously killed the vibe of the killings. Something I commented on under many videos, often saying I would do a better job filming. A choice that in hindsight was me asking to end up in one of those recordings. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was mostly the only one who commented but I was sure they wouldn't care. I was embarrassingly wrong.
I was staying up like usual, but it was past one AM on a school night, and back then that was a lot so I tried to sleep. Closing my eyes, tossing and turning, the works. I had just started drifting off when I heard the front door open. I remained calm but immediately found it weird since Brick never showed up this late. The thuds of the individual's feet grew louder as they got closer to my bedroom. I tried to convince myself it wasn't a stranger, especially since they got in with ease, but I knew that was wishful thinking.
They hummed as they opened my door. My dumbass had left it unlocked. I remained on my side, trying to look like I was asleep. They turned on the flashlight of their phone, shining it in my face. It was hard but I stayed still while they traced it over my features. I could tell they were smiling as they clicked their tongue.
“Heh, I knew it was a brat,” they whispered to themselves, pulling tangles out of my hair. Something I struggled not to groan from. They pulled up the hair over my ear and got so close spit got on my ear lobe.
“I know you’re awake kid,” they murmured, putting a blade to my neck. I let them grab my shoulder and move me onto my back, I knew how to fight but I wasn't about to take that big a risk with the position they had me in.
“You think you’re so cool saying you can do better than our guy.” they snickered, kneeling, their flashlight still shining in my face.
“Do you seriously believe that?” they questioned, moving the light away.
“Yeah, I do.” I stood my ground, they might have been intimidating but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from being honest.
“I wouldn't sound like I’m gonna piss myself every time it gets gory. I’m confident I could get better footage too, getting up close is something I’ve fantasized about.”
They clicked their tongue again and ran their finger over the bridge of my nose.
”Well, I know you’re a big fan of what we do, and you’re confidence makes me think you got something to back those claims up, so how’d you like a deal?”
I was surprised by how civil they were being aside from the touching and weapon against my throat.
“What kind of deal?” I asked, for all I knew this guy wanted me to lick their feet or some weird shit like that. They placed a finger underneath my eye, tracing a half moon with their nail.
“You have till this Friday to film a video of you killing an animal and put it on a flash drive that I’ll pick up here. If it impresses me and the crew we’ll hire ya with a handsome salary.” They began, moving their hand down to my cheek.
“But if you don't show, or it doesn't meet our standards, then I’m fucking up one of the parts of your face.” They warned, pinching my skin harshly.
“And if I say no to this deal?”
They put their hand over my mouth, scratching my lips.
“That’s cute, if you say no I’ll just slit your throat.” they grinned.
“Or rip it open with my teeth if you got a preference,” they smirked, before running their tongue across their sharp teeth.
“Okay, since I have no choice I’ll go with it, but I’m telling you now I can give you something way better than what you likely expect of me.” I prefaced, looking into their sunken eyes. They scratched my scalp, including the side of my head that was shaved.
“Good choice, I’ll be back to pick it up and if you're not here I’ll assume you don’t have the video. I genuinely wish you luck, because you’ll need it.” they removed the blade from my neck and walked away. I sat still for a few minutes in the dark, processing what had happened and wondering how they got into my apartment with such ease. I was confident I could blow their sniveling excuse of a cameraman out of the water, but I was worried about the people I was getting caught up with.
Sure, I had been on a lot of gore sites over the years but I was always just watching and occasionally commenting. Compared to most in the scene I wasn't much of a threat. I could defend myself and have contemplated killing for years but I hadn't murdered anyone or worse. Plus, I am part of way too many targeted groups to not be constantly at risk. Teenage, fem-leaning, two-spirit, indigenous kid with trauma? Yeah, I might as well be walking sign screaming “Hate crime me”.
So yeah, there was a lot to worry about. Regardless, I couldn't let that fear hold me back. I had a job to do and a group of sickos to appease. The next morning was rough, I got no sleep cause I’d spent all night brainstorming. I barely mustered the energy to change and drank straight mouthwash instead of brushing my teeth. Slogging onto the bus with drool on my cheek, I went to the back like usual. No one sat there cause, the seats were extra worn down, and I scared off anyone who attempted to with my active, rabies-infected bitch face. That day was different though.
I blanked on his name and where I knew him from, but I recognized his wavy hair and prominent curved nose. He glanced at each seat on the bus, before somehow settling on my area. He tried to give me space but ultimately seated himself beside me after realizing it was the only spot that didn't look like it would give him cancer. I glared at him as I did with everyone, but it didn't phase him.
“You know you could pick anywhere else right?” I murmured. He stared at the floor, then at me.
“I’m aware, but a few months ago I started a mission to sit on every part of this bus, and this is the last place.” he smiled, his lips softly curving at the sides.
“What’s the point of that?”
His mouth moved into a more neutral position, but his eyes kept smiling.
“I just thought it would be neat to see the same place from a bunch of different perspectives.” he took out his phone and snapped a photo from the point of view where he was sitting. Maybe my sleepiness made my bitch face less effective, cause he hadn't shown a hint of fear, which kind of annoyed me.
“That’s cool I guess, but I wouldn't do that if I were you. I’ve done some back here alone that would make your skin crawl.” in hindsight my attempt at unnerving him just made me sound like a pervert, which is probably why he held back laughter. Trying to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat.
“Hey, it's not my business what you do, no matter how Haram it is. It’s your life so that’s between you and whatever you believe in. Just don’t shake hands with me.” he joked, playfully putting his hands up. Strangely, I remembered his name at that moment.
“Oh shit, you’re Abdul! We have art together.” I sat up, haphazardly slamming my hand down on my leg.
“Uh yeah, I’ve seen some of your paintings, they’re pretty cool. I like the way you texture them, I’m trying to work on that.” he complimented, seeming more weirded out by my sudden energy than my accidental insinuation. I felt a little stupid for yelling his name but decided not to dwell on it.
“Thanks, you’re stuff is nice, and you’re good at shading.”
He stretched his arms while thanking me. We talked for a few more minutes, taking jabs at each other throughout. Turns out he was better at being an asshole than his artsy charismatic appearance made me think. The thing setting our insults apart being that you could tell he was a loving person underneath. It was the nicest conversation I had with anyone in a while. Though he could tell I was tired so he quieted down, letting me sleep, waking me when we got to school. We went our separate ways until the last two periods we shared. All that time, I spent my remaining energy plotting how I was going to handle the video. What I’d kill, record with, and how to dispose of the evidence. It was a lot to consider, but through three classes I devised a plan.
I’d find a stray around my apartment complex and take it out in my room. Record it on a portable camera since I broke the ones on my phone, no, I will not be answering how that happened. Then once I had my footage I’d put the body in a trash bag, throw it in the complex’s garbage, and clean the blood off my floor. It didn't seem like Brick would come by so he wasn't a factor I thought I’d have to consider. The plan was almost too easy, but I decided to believe in Occam’s razor. I got so lost in thought that by the time I reached Art, which was my second-to-last period, I didn't process that we were moving seats.
“She called your name,” Abdul reminded me. Our teacher placed us next to each other at our four-person table. The two girls sitting with us were already friends, so I didn't bother to say anything, but I was interested in talking to him more.
“So, what do you think of this assignment?” He shrugged, taking out his sketchbook.
“I’m not that good at drawing people, but the idea of combining two people’s faces into a portrait seems interesting. Any ideas on who you’ll pick?”
“Probably the members of the music duo Brain Tumor, they’re my favorite artists and they both look weird as hell.”
“Wow way to talk about your favorites, if that’s what you say about them I can‘t imagine what you have to say about me.” he joked, pulling up reference pictures.
“First, it’s not an insult, second I don’t have anything to say about you. Brain and Tumor have features and styles that make them stand out. Sure they’re ugly, but it just adds to their visual charm. Hot people are boring, there’s nothing to pick at.” I explained, unzipping my bag.
“Oh, so you’re saying you think I’m hot.”
His comment wasn’t serious but it kind of got to me.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to say you’re boring. All hot people are boring, but not all boring people are hot, okay?” I explained, flipping to a clean page.
“Alright, but if I’m so bland then why talk to me?”
I hesitated, contemplating how much of a dick I was gonna be.
“Because it means you probably need some spice in your life, which I can provide.”
He began sketching a head on his paper.
“I like spices, but I feel like you’re the kind of person to dump a cabinet’s worth onto me.”
I flicked my pencil over to his side of the desk, putting on a mocking grin.
“Aww, you scared I’m gonna get you into trouble?”
He picked up the pencil and started using it, putting his on my side.
“No, ‘cause I’m good at setting boundaries. I’m more concerned that you’ll get annoyed with how unafraid of you I am.”
I stared at him for a moment, I hadn't expected to hear that.
“Jeez, man you didn't have to read me like that.”
He shrugged, observing the red paint from past projects that lay on my pencil.
“It's not hard to figure out, just this morning you were trying to push me away on the bus. Lucky, or unlucky, for you I want you to have a friend and you seem like a fun person.”
“Wait are you saying I have no friends?” I squinted at him.
“Well, do you?”
I didn't answer.
“If your response is silence I suggest you take up my offer.”
I was stunned, to be honest. No one had offered to be my friend since 6th grade, and that didn't last long. Of course, I accepted it, but for the rest of the period, there was an awkwardness in my mind. As pathetic as it sounds I wasn't used to others genuinely enjoying my company like he did. Which was partly by design cause I get joy out of scaring people away, but still. I forgot how it felt to have conversations about normal things like art. He had such a nice smile too, usually when I see a grin I want to slap it off, but I liked his. His voice was also nice, it’s hard to describe what in particular but it was easy on the ears.
Okay, I’m starting to get off-topic. I’ll skip to the important part. Toward the end of class, he started talking about how he was interested in filmmaking and got a portable video camera as a gift at last year’s Eid. He didn't have it on him, but he showed me a picture.
“Heh, that’s funny, I bought the same one a month ago.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, it's a popular model, I’m still getting the hang of it though cause I’m so used to using my phone.”
“Well, maybe I could bring you over to my place or vice versa after school and I can help you out.” I suggested.
He smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“I thought you said you’ve only had it for a month? You know I can always look up tutorials from trained professionals.” he reminded me with a notable smugness that I'd used with him before.
“Well those guys are stuffy and I’m a fast learner.”
He redirected his attention back to his page, picking his pencil up.
“Alright, I suggest we go somewhere public instead. You’re not exactly the kind of person I want to bring home to my parents right away. Plus they always need to meet my friends and their guardians before I hang out at their home.”
I gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching my back.
“Aw man, looks like we can’t get high in my murder pit during our first hangout.”
He didn't respond for a solid few seconds.
“Wait, you do know I'm joking right?”
He shrugged, the smile in his eyes appearing again.
“I mean, one of those things is a little less believable than the other.” he snickered, and I laughed with him.
We set up a time and a date, which is where I screwed myself. He ended up being busy with projects from his other classes and family which just left us with Friday, the same day I had to submit the video. Now, did I tell him I wouldn't be able to make it? No, of course not, because I decided to be stupid and even more overconfident. I said that I’d one hundred percent be able to hang out with him after school like I didn't have a mutilator who was going to drop by my place at an unknown time.
The rest of the day went over fine but that bad timing led me to feel like a dick later. When I got home I was able to write out my plan, even sketching a few specifics of what I’d do. It was more exciting than when I’d been brainstorming, but this is when the gravity of the situation began to set in. When I said I’d fantasized about killings I meant it. I mean my teddy with twenty-five stab wounds should say enough. Regardless this would be the first time real blood was on my hands.
It made me feel powerful, but a little afraid. I’ve heard stories of people thinking that it would be an awesome experience and then feeling like shit. I doubted I’d be one of those people but still. Plus, I didn't exactly trust the guy who gave me this job. There was a good chance that this whole situation was rigged and they’d kill me no matter how good the video was. Or worse turn me into the feds and expose my collection. Honestly, if that happened I’d probably eat a shot to avoid going to jail. Wait, can I say that on this platform? Okay to the mods, that was a joke, I want to live a long life. Ugh, I’m doing a terrible job of staying on track. The point is there was a lot up in the air despite it being a matter of life or death.
I knew I’d go through with it but it was still a lot less straightforward than it initially seemed. I wracked my brain to remember where most of the cats stayed and tried to come up with a good way to lure one without raising suspicion. This also proved harder than first thought because I didn't think to account for the cat man, an old guy who lived alone and fed all the cats in our dingy complex while also housing a few. Knowing how obsessive he was he’d probably notice if one of them disappeared. Then again not all the cats return consistently or at all. It makes more sense that he’d think one of them was run over rather than slaughtered. It was getting late again so I rested my head for a moment, a bad move cause I ended up falling asleep at my desk. Not even changing out of the clothes I’d worn before, I woke up late and barely caught the bus the next morning.
I went to my usual spot but Abdul had already taken it. He patted the area next to it, which he’d covered in a towel, a smart move knowing how nasty it was. People gave me a few dirty looks as normal, which I smiled at. I stretched, my mind slightly less out of it than the previous morning.
“Uh, you do realize that-”
“Yeah, I know I’m wearing the same clothes.”
Abdul looked me up and down, his eyes remaining soft, but with a mix of concern and judgment. He set his backpack down and took off his sweater handing it to me.
“Dude what are you-”
“Look I don't know what led to you not being able to change but I think you should at least have a fresh top.”
I was surprised he was offering me something to wear but I took it.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll change into it later.”
He nodded as I put it in my backpack.
“You know you didn't have to do that.” I reminded him.
“Well there’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to do, but I do it because I want to, and I wanted to help you out.”
He smiled, his face still warmer than an Arizona summer. I got a strange feeling in my chest at that moment, I still can’t tell if it was good or bad.
“Well, thanks, I'll give it back to you tomorrow.”
We talked a little more and he mentioned something that caught my attention.
“Have you heard about all the animals that have been turning up dead?”
My eyes widened with surprise.
“No, I haven't, when did you hear about that?”
He pulled on his long-sleeve shirt.
“My sister said her friend who works at a shelter noticed a bunch of animals were getting adopted by people around the same time, and since then gore videos with them have been showing up. She found out through her co-worker who was emailed it by some random creep.”
I covered my mouth and looked away to hide the smile growing on my face. He had just given me the perfect cover-up without knowing. Now if I killed an animal people had an entire violent ring to connect it to instead of me! I stayed quiet for a minute because I could tell he’d likely see through any phony sad sounds I made.
“Oh wow, that’s awful, do you think they’ll ever find out the people behind it?”
He sighed, running his hand through his wavy hair.
“I hope so, for now, all we can do is pray that no more animals get hurt.”
I couldn't contain my grin as he said that so sincerely like animals and people didn't die constantly and that taking down one group would somehow stop the issue.
“Is there some joke I don’t get?” he furrowed his brow.
“Uh, no, sorry I smile when nervous.”
His gaze softened again, and he didn't press further.
His bringing up the animal killings ended up being the exact push I needed to get my hands dirty. I’d spent the entire day before planning so it was time to put that plan into action. I stole some cat treats that the cat man had laid out and spread them around my apartment which was on the bottom floor. Waiting for one of them to take the bate outside my window was pretty boring but one of them came after a few minutes. A scraggly brown and black cat with a tuft of fur missing on one side of his head. It's messed up but I felt like a little less of an asshole for taking him in since he looked like he was already struggling. I scooped him up and he didn't attempt to fight back.
“Hey there buddy” I waved, feeding him some more food. His eyes had a lot of crust on them, it was kinda gross but I don’t have the right to say with how often I wash my jeans. After a minute or two he let me pet him. I knew making any kind of attachment was bad but I thought it was the right thing to do so he’d fall into a sense of security. I was just about to take him into my room when the door opened.
“Hey, I’m back with groceries!” my shithead cousin announced with two plastic bags in his hands. He looked down to see me with the cat, his eyebrows raising.
“Aw come on, you know we can’t afford a pet.”
He groaned placing the bags on a table and unloading them.
“I know, but he doesn't look like he’s got a lot of life in him I at least want to help him feel better before he kicks the bucket!”
Brick rolled his eyes, putting the cereal box on top of the fridge
“Jeez, did you even think about what diseases he might have? His eyes look puffy what if he has something that can get you sick?”
He had valid concerns which was surprising since he’s usually stupid, but I was still annoyed with him.
“I’m sure he’s fine, I’ll even try to wash him, just please let me hold onto him for a little.”
He folded his arms looking down at us.
“Have you even named him?”
I froze for a second, before using the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being pretty awful knowing my plans.
“Cash cow.” I blurted, awkwardly patting his head.
“Honestly that’s better than what I was expecting. I was sure you’d pick ‘Hellspawn Mcgee’ or something else corny.”
He meant to make fun of me but honestly, I would have named him that if I had more time.
“Ugh, anyway I got those dumb chips you like.”
He then pulled out a bag of the wrong chips.
“Dude those are the wrong ones, this is the third time you’ve mixed up the flavors.”
He threw them at me, scaring the cat slightly.
“Well, I pay for it so you shouldn't be so picky. Anyway, while I was in line I picked up something you might be into.”
He then tossed me a trashy teen magazine. One of my least favorite sorry excuses for an influencer on the cover.
“This is a joke, right?”
I couldn't believe my own adopted brother gave such little shit in my interests.
“I don't know, you decided to start being a girl for real this time so I thought the makeup tips on page ten would help you out.”
I scrunched my face at his comment.
“Dude I’ve been this way for years, just because I started wearing more makeup and dresses doesn't mean I’m more of a girl than when I didn't. I know you won’t get the two-spirit thing but come on.”
He shrugged, seeing me done with me even though he’d just shown up.
“Yeah well hey I’m trying. Anyway, just so you know a friend of mine is coming here Friday.”
My heart stopped.
“Wait why here? You live elsewhere why can’t you assholes go there or their place!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Will you shut the fuck up!”
He screamed with a phrase I’d grown numb to.
“I don't know, to be honest, something about wanting to move into this complex and this being a way to scout it out. I’m just letting you know now so you don’t act like a complete freak.”
“Jokes on you I’ll piss in whatever shitty beer you bring just cause you said that!”
I yelled back raising my voice higher than his. He face-palmed before putting the plastic bags in the drawer under the sink.
“Whatever, you and your ketamine-addict-looking cat have fun,” he told me while seating himself on the couch. I picked up the cat and walked into the bathroom to clean it. I closed the door and placed him in the dry tub. Using a small disposable mouthwash cup I got a little bit of water. I hadn't had a pet before so I wasn't sure how to approach the task. I dipped my fingers in the water and carefully pet it while pouring s small bit down his back. Any other cat would fight back but he just made pissed-off noises without doing anything.
I scrapped my old shampoo bottle and kneaded it into his thin fur. His skin was bumpy and dry beneath the hair so scrubbing it was uncomfortable. I made sure to avoid getting soap in its eyes but I did pull away some of the crust on its lids. His pupils were so clouded I was surprised that he could see at all, making me feel even more sure that he would be on its way out with or without me.
After drying him I set him on a beat-up shirt I wore when modifying clothes. He sunk his claws into it a few times, playing with a loose string. I ignored him for the rest of the night, hopping into the shower and changing for bed. His meows woke me up a few times but I tuned it out after a while, reminding myself that he wouldn’t be my cat for long.
The next day was Thursday and there wasn't a second that passed by where the weight of the murder I’d have to commit didn't weigh on me. I seriously shot myself in the foot by taking care of that scruffy, pubic hair pile. I was supposed to be hyped about killing it, after all, I’d dreamed and seen way worse than what I was going to do. Yet once I got home and started setting up I felt grosser with each step. I decided to record it in my bathroom instead of my bedroom so it would be harder to connect to me. I set down a few fabric scraps and a worn-out beach towel, placing it all inside a tub for easier cleanup later.
“Okay, I guess it's time,” I mumbled to myself. I brought the cat in and placed it down, setting up my camera once it was comfortable. I also wore my most generic clothes in addition to a mask, putting my hair in a bun for sanitation. When I saw the flicker of red showing that the camera was on I felt I was dreaming. I smiled, excited that I’d get to live out my violent desires. Yet, when I looked down at its pathetic frame and confused expression those urges left me.
I rationalized what I was doing, reminding myself how many animals die all the time and that I’d been forced into this, but it didn't help much in the end. I won’t get into it but under the pressure of impressing the group Cash Cow didn't go out as fast as I would have liked for a first task. Getting rid of the evidence was especially rough, the textures were pretty nasty, to put it mildly. It was surreal watching the blood go down the tub drain and gradually drip off my hands as I rinsed them. I couldn't conjure a single thought the entire time I cleaned it up.
Whether I was wringing out the clothes or putting the remains in plastic bags, it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the task at hand, with hints of disgust along the way. I ended up finishing at three AM. My hands were wrinkled and shook once I settled. I won’t deny that during the murder I didn't hate it. Slashing into something was fun and it made me feel strong. Still, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I expected it to be. Part of it was guilt, but it was mostly disappointment. I’d built it up for years and it wasn't earth shatteringly good or bad.
Overall, I expected to feel more, but it just left me hollow with an uncomfortable itch. There was no way I’d ever be able to see the tub the same way, hell I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Luckily I almost always shower anyway so it's not too big of a deal. I watched a few horror game videos, trashed everything, changed and went to bed.
My scalp hurt like a bitch the morning since I kept my hair in that stupid bun. Despite getting less sleep than the past two days I held myself together a bit better in the morning. I brushed my teeth, changed, and had some fried bread before getting on the bus. Regardless I looked like complete shit and struggled to slump into my seat.
“Rough night?” Abdul asked
“Uh, yeah.” I quietly responded looking to the floor.
He frowned, looking at me with concern.
“You can talk about it if you're comfortable,” he assured me. I contemplated giving him a thinly veiled metaphor or vague explanation so he'd comfort me but stopped myself before my mouth could run a muck. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything and I don’t like opening up.
“Uhm, thanks but it's something I have to deal with alone.”
He nodded, respecting my boundaries.
“You know, I understand if you can’t hang out today it seems like you have a lot going on.”
I avoided eye contact with him as he spoke. For once I was feeling hints of guilt toward a person. I wanted to spend time with him, but I knew that I wasn't in the state to do that.
“Yeah, I think it’ll have to wait, I’m-” I cut myself off before apologizing. A fact about me that should surprise no one is that I hate apologizing. Even when I do feel kinda bad the act fills me with embarrassment.
“You what?” he asked, his eyes telling me that he knew what I was going to say.
“I’m emotionally not great.” I spat out in an admittedly poor attempt to get out of saying sorry. As always he remained calm but I could tell he saw through me.
“Okay, like I said I understand, whatever it is I hope you feel better.”
I told him thank you and we didn't speak for the rest of the day. At home I changed into more comfortable clothes and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, I wasn't bouncing back from killing nearly as much as I expected.
“It wasn't even that bad! That thing was on its last legs anyway.” I grumbled to myself, smacking my forehead. I was feeling worse than when I did it which is weird. I ended up spontaneously decorating a ratty tie from the bottom of an accessory drawer to distract myself. It helped me get my mind off things, for a little. I had zero plan, just wanting to make something needlessly complex. Hours that felt like minutes passed and soon it was covered in patches, frills, and beads. I just tried it on when I heard the front door open.
“Man, that shit was wild!” I heard Brick laugh groggily. I didn't have to see or smell him to know he’d gotten lit. I rolled my eyes, closing my bedroom door.
“Hey, who’s there?” his friend asked, seemingly referring to me.
“Oh, that’s my little sis, don’t mind her she’s just on her emo shit!” he joked, which pissed me off for the petty reason that I didn't even listen or dress emo.
“Hey, that’s alright with me, I went through one of those phases,” they responded, their words less slurred than my cousin’s.
I fucked up and forgot to lock it when I closed it so they were able to swing it open, almost smacking my desk.
“Hey emo girl!” they waved as Brick haphazardly pulled them back.
“Okay, man, seriously I think she wants to be left alone.”
The way his friend looked at me made me uncomfortable. Like they’d snap my neck if I pissed them off. They clicked their tongue while stepping through the door frame.
“Alright, but I gotta say calling her an emo is inaccurate, they look like they watch gore and most emos just say they do.” they flashed a sharp toothy grin. At that moment I began to connect the dots.
“Easy, she’ll get pissy with you dude, now come on.” Brick warned tugging their opened button pushed him away. They looked me dead in the eyes.
“I don’t think she minds, in truth, I feel like we’ll have a lot to discuss later.” they smiled again, finally walking back into the living room. A chill ran up my spine when I saw them. The sharp teeth, New York accent, unsettling gaze, that motherfucker was the person who recruited me! They were able to get into my place so easily cause my dumbass cousin probably gave them a spare key or the opportunity to make one, and now they were a room away from me!
I dug my hands into my pillow as I contemplated what to do, no matter what happened next, I knew it was gonna be a rough visit.

36M, DX of Ankylosing Spondylitis and ADHD. Meds: Lyrica, Adderall 30mg XR in AM, propranolol 20mg twice daily, Tramadol PRN, Celebrex. No recreational drugs or Alcohol.
Flew from DC to SEATAC yesterday, when I got to my hotel and I took my socks off I noticed I have 2 sores on each of the insides of my ankle. Also, my ankles are mildly swollen. What is this?
For the last 6 months my left big toe has been intermittently painful, and in early April the nail cracked in half, it stopped being painful, but it seems to randomly get swollen and painful and I’m curious if it has anything to do with these ulcers? As well have been having chronic pruritus that is increased with body temp rising and hot water exposure. All over body, but ears, scalp, abdomen, and legs most affected.
Both hurt significantly. PCP had me and several different antibiotics for the big toe, but it never did anything so we assumed it was inflammation. A1C and glucose is normal. Low anion gap at 2 consistently, raised CRP 5-28, elevated CH50 complement levels, low BUN/Creatinine ratio for 2 months at 5 and 7. Slightly elevated Kappa/Lamda ratio at 2.4
Thanks for your time. See link to pics
https://imgur.com/olEHjkV
https://i.imgur.com/mqwkh2Z.jpeg
https://i.imgur.com/JYTkl1C.jpeg

Age: 22
Sex: F
Height: 5’1”
Weight: 164 lbs
Race: hispanic
Duration of complaint: 3 months
Location: abdomen
Currently have high cholesterol. bad cholesterol count of 103 according to my primary care.
Current medications: metoclopramide 5mg. sertraline 25mg, pantoprazole 40mg
i’ll include pictures of some tests that i’ve had done in the comments if i can.
Gonna try to include as best of a description of my symptoms as i can, i’ll also try to edit anything if it makes my description better.
this all started 2 months ago. literally the last week of february. at the time i wasn’t on any type of medication. nothing changed in my eating habits, except for the fact that i’d had panda express for the 1st time ever starting in february.
i became constipated suddenly one afternoon and this continued for a week. went to the doctor and i was sent to get a ct scan. but obviously, i’m not familiar with medical terms. from what i understand, there’s evidence of slow transit through my small bowel, but don’t know where or why exactly.
symptoms include: constipation accompanied by side and abdominal discomfort/aches/ pains. my upper abdominal area aches a lot some days. it feels as if the area right under the breast bones wants to cramp up. i feel burning in my stomach and abdomen too. gas is hard to pass somedays and feels trapped. i also have upper back aches. doctor told me it’s because of my small intestine. i also have lower back aches as well, but was told it could be because of kidney stones i didn’t even know i had, but just thought i’d mention this. i have diarrhea (once i went and it was very watery,) loose stools, stools with mucus and pieces of undigested food, mainly meat, of varying shapes and consistencies. the mucus on my stool is clear and white and appears like strings on my stool. sometimes i’ll have a semi normal movement, but with mucus. sometimes my stool will be thin, in small pieces, or just very loose even after a “normal” bowel movement. other times i’ll go but it’s just mucus. all my stools are also slimey in texture from what i can tell. also, everytime i wipe my stool it’s yellow in color with mucus and/or clear fluid. sometimes i’ll have this urgency to go despite being constipated.
also, not sure if this has to do with my current condition but have been wiping light red blood after i go, both with my more solid stools and loose ones. in one instance i even wiped only blood. there’s also been times where i’ve seen streaks of blood on my stool too. clear fluid also seems to be leaking out of my anal area…. clear mucus sometimes too. this causes my anal area and the inside of it to itch and sting. it feels like that sometimes after a bowel movement, even if it’s soft, other times it just feels itchy throughout the day, even if there is no anal leakage or if i don’t go to the bathroom. the mucus that comes out sometimes has pieces of stool/liquid that is the color of my stool. even with the supplements and meds i’ve been given, i’m lucky if I go even once a day now, but constipation is getting worse in my opinion.
in late march/early april i started to experience nausea, heartburn, acid reflux, and severe loss of appetite. all of these symptoms have persisted since. i no longer eat any of the food i used to. i can’t eat fast food or meat any more. i’m sticking to fruit, no citrusy fruits, crackers, soups, and cereal with almond or lactose free milk. even with these changes in diet my symptoms have persisted.
i eat very little because i just don’t feel hunger like i used to at all. even if i do i find that i get full very easily. i’m bloated after i eat as well. also, like i said i’m constipated so my bowel movement are little to none.
i currently still have all of the symptoms above and they don’t seem to be improving.
in a addition to a ct scan i’ve gotten tested for a blood infection, negative. celiac disease blood test came back negative. stool test for h pylori came back negative. a test to find if there was any blood digested and present in my stool came back negative. a stool test that was done to measure levels of fat in my stool came back indicating normal levels of fat in my stool. i also got an ultra sound for lumps that appeared on my abdomen but it was found that they were just fatty lumps. i also got an endoscopy in late april where 3 tissue biospies were taken. apparently, the 3 things they tested for all came back negative. other than a bacterial infection, i have no idea what else they ruled out. i’m not even white sure what bacterial infections they ruled out.
honestly, i’m getting more questions than answers at the moment and just want to know if there’s any more testing that i should ask for. what could possibly be happening to me and why?

WPA – A Completely Average Roadtrip
Disclaimer: Not canon, and I don’t use patreon so please don’t spoil me. Also, any opinion held by a character is that of the characters and not my own. Enjoy.
Town of Ljosalfington, local time 14:00, week 7
Emma Booker
“Again Illunor, I warned you before that this is a utility vehicle, not a party rated smart-limo. I am already compromising more than I should by allowing you to use the sample cooler as a minifridge, one which I can’t even use!” I said as I loaded the materials I had just purchased into the back of the high-G All terrain fusion-ethanol-electric hybrid 24th-century legacy pickup truck that I had printed out earlier this week, carefully avoiding the heavy ordinance hard point.
“That is hardly an excuse for that abysmally cramped leg space barely fit for cattle, never mind the bare minimum for standard decorum suitable for nobility. If this is what a car is like, then I don’t see why you care for your technology,” complained Illunor, who was sitting around idly with a malformed garish bowl of icecream that he had stashed away from lunch.
“If it bothers you so much, perhaps you could help next time with your ‘bigger-on-the-inside’ magic,” I retorted as I slid the last core sample into the back before covering it up with a tarp and strapping it down.
I had originally planned to visit Ljosalfington by myself to acquire much needed exo-materials to test various mana manipulator configurations as I worked to develop my first wand as not all of the materials I needed were procurable locally from Elaseer. I eventually yielded, much to my regret, to allowing Illunor to come with me as he insisted on wanting to deliver a letter personally in town after Thacea had pointed out the wisdom of not travelling alone.
We continued our back and forth for a bit yet as I finished securing my payload a voice called out to me from the direction of the town.
“Excuse me a moment, I couldn’t help but notice but are you from the academy?”
I turned to see an elf dressed in a plain brown buttoned up tunic matched by a slightly shabby pair of trousers with what appeared to be a lute upon his back and a plain and unenchanted longsword on his belt gesturing at our robes. Mine especially were new and unusual, tailored by the academy to go over my armour and allow access to the anchor points and allow me to exit my armour with minimal hassle. Illunor scoffed at what was evidently a commoner’s arrogance at approaching nobility and turned his head away in disgust. I glanced at Illunor and shook my head before turning to face the new man. I had time to spare, and any opportunity to engage in a hearts-and-minds dialogue with the locals outside the bounds of the managed environment of the academy was more than worth the time to chat. Especially as most of the other locals seemed to be content in ignoring me.
“Yes, we are currently studying at the Transgracian Academy. I am Cadet Emma Booker representing the United Nations of Earth and Luna from Earthream, and my aloof compatriot is Lord Illunor Rularia of the Vunerian courts. We were just about to head back but are in no rush. May I ask your name and what brings you by?” I asked with my hand outstretched in greeting.
“Ah yes, yes. My name is Edhel Redoehdelnif, a wandering bard by trade like my father and his father before him. My apologies, Cadet Emma Booker, I am unfamiliar with Earthrealm,” said Edhel as he grasped my hand with both of his and shook it tepidly yet vigorously. Or rather, tried to, as the motors on my suit resisted his efforts.
“News doesn’t seem to spread all that fast around here, so it makes sense you haven’t heard of us. We’re a new realm, and only just got here. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Edhel Redoehdelnif,” I replied.
“Absolutely fascinating! And a knight no less, or perhaps a squire? I’m sure you have many stories to tell of Earthrealm. Say, by chance are you about to head back to the academy? I have business in Elaseer and the usual coach has been absent as of late so I would rather not go it alone,” said Edhel.
I was hesitant to bring a stranger back in the car with me, even if Illunor was present. However, the opportunity that meeting a bard presented was too good to pass up from an intel perspective and to win the favour of the populace at large.
“That is a great idea. I think I have room for one more…” I paused before gesturing towards Illunor, “provided everyone is ok with it that is.”
Illunor gave a huff and turned his head away in silence.
“Very well, I will allow this. But he will not be joining me in your sorry excuse for a coach,” said Illunor dismissively.
Illunor approached the backseat expectantly and the door opened for him automatically, allowing the dlc kobold to gracefully enter and lounge across the length of the seats, once again ignoring the seatbelts. I sighed as I made my way to the driver’s seat, and Edhel entered from the passenger side as he marveled at the automatic doors and the interior.
“What a strange carriage this is! Although I must say, shouldn’t you be retrieving your horses? I didn’t see any harnesses or sense any artifices,” inquired Edhel as he attempted to make himself comfortable on the car seat, lute in front of him.
“Oh no, this thing doesn’t need horses or magic,” I said with a chuckle as EVI started the car. The elf raised his eyebrows at the sudden hum of the engine and made an expression of alarm when the car started driving itself without my input. “See, purrs like a kitten.”
“Earthrealm must have some large kittens if they purr like that,” noted Edhel, “but you must be concealing the enchantments somewhere. Such a thing as this with such strange yet precise craftsmanship is only possible in the crownlands.”
“Nope, no magic,” I said cheerfully.
“Then how?” Asked Edhel.
“It’s rather simple really. Are you familiar with the workings of a mill?” I asked, deciding to keep things surface level and elementary to avoid provoking the IDOV threshold.
“Somewhat, though I confess to not being familiar with their workings. Are you suggesting this is akin to a mill?” Asked Edhel perplexed.
“It’s the same principal. A mill works by taking a source of rotation such as a waterwheel or windmill, transferring that rotation along a series of rotating shafts and interlocking gears, and finally putting that energy to work by rotating a millstone,” I began as the car pulled out onto the smooth cobbled road in the direction of Elaseer. A notification popped up in the corner of my vision indicating my recon drone swarm had shifted from a holding formation to a convoy screening formation, and while the roads were clear I kept the speed at 60km/h to account for my passenger’s apparent distaste for seatbelts.
“Rotation…” muttered Edhel. He turned to face one of the wheels and EVI pinged an alert for a probable match for a detection spell, “fascinating.”
“Edhel, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, perhaps I should have asked first. Yes, I can see how it all fits together. But the source of this rotation? I see no mighty river or great wind to power this, so where does it come from?” Asked Edhel, not really apologizing. Elven arrogance, it seemed, was not limited by class.
The act reminded me of Sorecar when he inspected my gun, but where the armourer had been respectful with it, Edhel was more flippant. I considered the possibility that he was a spy sent by one of her peers or the crownlands, though this did not mesh with the methods I had seen so far. Edhel may have been just overly enthusiastic. In either case, I quickly decided to only reveal the antique design for the ethanol engine, and not that of the batteries or the emergency coupler to my suit’s fusion reactor.
“Right, well please ask first next time. As to your question, I won’t bore you with the details, but the rotation is generated by creating a periodic sequence of explosions inside of a machine – a manaless artifice – called a combustion engine, said Emma.
“So that’s what that sound is…” pondered Edhel, “are these artifices typical in Earthream?”
“You are awfully inquisitive for a commoner,” noted Illunor as he inspected his nails for dirt, “and rather accepting of something which should be impossible.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a bard if I wasn’t, my lord,” said Edhel shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “perhaps some music might set the mood better?”
“That would be preferable, bard. I have heard enough of the Earthrealmer’s Road Trip Playlist and would like to listen to some music of real culture,” said Illunor.
The bard agreed and proceeded to awkwardly play a ballad about an adventurer who slew a hydra in some frozen wasteland. Partway through, I politely interrupted the Edhel to point out the seat controls much to his fascination and Illunor’s grumbling at their common nature, and after some adjustment the bard went on playing and I half-heartedly listened while I paid attention to the road and my drone feed.
Particularly after EVI detected something unusual and alerted me to its presence.
”Attention Caded Booker. There is a disabled vehicle blocking the primary route to destination. Heat signatures in the woods are consistent with that of an ambush.”
“Damn it,” I muttered.
I glanced at the drone feed to see a broken cart strewn horizontally across a wooden bridge over a brook. On the surface it looked like a pair of civilians who required aid and assistance, but off in the woods were several heat signatures, several of which held weapons of varying levels of enchantments. Occasionally one of the pair on the bridge would talk with them, suggesting they were in cahoots rather than hostages. I recalled crossing that very bridge not a few hours earlier, so the blockade was very recent.
“EVI, did we pass that cart on the way here?” I asked.
”Negative,” replied EVI.
I grimaced. I had been trained to handle road-side ambushes, but it was only something that was a theoretical possibility. Something that should only occur in a warzone or a corrupt and unstable polity. I knew I had the capacity to handle such an encounter, even non-lethally, but that didn’t change the fact that these were civilians and as such were the responsibility of local law enforcement. Combined with the fact that I had passengers I was responsible for and engaging the ambush was a risky option.
“EVI, give me a list of alternative routes,” I commanded.
”Affirmative. Here is a list of routes in order of recommendation,” replied EVI.
I looked over the routes superimposed on a map of the region and quickly dismissed taking a shortcut through the forest and cutting through farmland. A detour caught my eye that extended the journey by roughly ten kilometers and I immediately sent a pair of drones to scout it out before committing to the detour.
“Are you alright, Cadet Emma Booker? You seem distracted,” asked Edhel, snapping me back to reality.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just focused on driving,” replied Emma.
“I suppose it must be quite taxing to command an artificed carriage of this complexity. Perhaps it might ease your mind if you were to regale me a tale of a hero of your realm?” Said Edhel, strumming a complex tune from his lute as he spoke as each and every pluck triggered a low-level spell.
“Well, that may be a problem. We don’t have any monsters to fight, and wars are a thing of the past,” I said while desperately tip-toeing the subject of aunt Ran, the subject of war, and our voyages through the cosmos, “though we are not without the adventurous spirit. We certainly have many stories of grand voyages. Some mythical and fictional such as The Odyssey as told by the Greek poet Homer and some historical such as the race to the south pole.”
“The south pole,” muttered the bard, “so you have explored all of Earthrealm then? I suppose that makes some sense, if you have artifices such as this then traversal of a globe would be quite manageable.”
“You are quite perceptive,” I said, not wishing to elaborate.
“A great performer knows his audience,” said Edhel with a charming, honest, almost human smile.
I felt a pang of homesickness as an intrusive thought reminded me that I could have gone to a real college surrounded by friendly faces my age, engaging in nightly holostreams and dreaming of adventures in the stars from the safety of a college dorm room. The sight of Illunor in the rear camera was the only thing that kept me grounded, as I almost felt like I was back at home on a road trip rather than returning to a fantasy feudal court, constantly evading death at every turn with the fate of humanity on the line. As such, and prompted by EVI, I barely had the wherewithal to take the planned detour.
A fact which did not pass by Edhel.
“I believe you may have taken a wrong turn, Emma,” he commented.
“Nah, I’m just taking the scenic route. I came from that direction on the way here, and you have inspired me to see the other road and I figure it should only add a few extra minutes to our travel time,” I said, gesturing at a paper map which I had referenced exactly once, “though on that subject, you seem to know these lands quite well. Do you have any recommendations on places to visit in the Nexus to scratch that itch?”
Illunor raised his eyebrow at the detour excuse, knowing full well this was not part of the plan. I worried that he might complain about the issue and but thankfully remained silent as he snacked on the contents of the misused sample storage unit. Edhel himself took on a more pensive posture.
“I’m happy to have been such an inspiration, Emma, though I am sure an explorer such as yourself has little need of such. I would normally suggest the skyward fountains of Verdellan or the cloud tides of Asturia, but that may be too casual for someone of your calibre. Perhaps the severed chasm or the fire marsh of Bhandahova may be more to your liking. Or perhaps…” Edhel leaned in, “I have heard rumours of a dragon in the glassy obsidian wastes of Vurcanar.”
I chuckled at that, knowing how I was fortunate enough to fish a dragon scale out of the nearby lake for the ECS. “The thought of going dragon hunting had certainly crossed my mind…” I mused aloud.
“Yet you sound hesitant. Perhaps it is too much for a newrealmer. Perhaps a slime or a dire rat might be more appropriate,” he said with a tease.
“No, it’s not like that! It’s” I stammered, before attempting to change course after realizing I had been goaded, “what I mean is, I was under the impression that dragons were an endangered species. Where I come from, hunting endangered animals is usually illegal, and big game hunting in general is frowned upon. We do make exceptions in the case of problem animals such as if a large predator starts hunting humans, but as a rule we prefer conservation and try to find ways of coexisting with wildlife such as the use of barrier fences and scaring away dangerous animals rather than being forced to cull their numbers. Having a species go extinct would prevent future generations from appreciating them and risks destabilizing the ecosystem they are a part of. Now if this dragon was actively razing villages and eating civilians and livestock, that would be one thing, but this does not look to be the case. I don’t imagine the Nexus has any settlements in this wasteland, and the dragon clearly wants to be left alone. Killing an innocent dragon would be murder.”
I grinned to myself after delivering a diatribe that would have made my tenth grade social and environmental studies teacher beam with pride, though by the expressions of my passengers my view did not appear to be shared. Edhel’s mouth was agape in shock and fascination, while the Venurian in the back seat merely huffed in disapproval.
“I assure you Newrealmer, there are no innocent dragons,” stated Illunor with a hint of terseness breaking through his otherwise regal demeanor.
“Illunor, I understand that Venurians have personal reasons for not liking dragons, but you can’t just extend that disdain to their descendants or those uninvolved just because they are the same species,” I said.
“If I may interject on your behalf, my lord, I believe I can address Cadet Emma Booker’s concerns,” said Edhel with a bow. Illunor nodded in approval.
“Very well, you may proceed,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord. My dear Emma, you must understand that dragons are not simple animals driven entirely off of instinct as it appears to be the case in Earthrealm. They are monsters. Intelligent, long-lived, violent, greedy, cruel, territorial, selfish flesh-eating monsters. They are evil by the very nature of their being, unable to change by their own accord, and unwilling to change when His Eternal Majesty offered them freedom from their nature. It isn’t that they want to be evil. As intelligent animals – intelligent monsters – dragons are capable of understanding morality, and many have tried to overcome their evil nature at great expense to themselves. A well intended and noble sentiment, yet a doomed one as like all animals, they all succumb to their nature in the end. Overcoming one’s nature is impossible,” said Edhel. His eyes took on a stoic, almost remorseful gaze as he spoke, and Illunor nodded with approval.
I was appalled by this claim, not by the contents so much as how blatantly false it was. As a representative of the human race, I was a living counterexample to his whole argument. We had remained physiologically unchanged as a species since the last Ice Age, and yet in spite of that, in spite of our many flaws, we had found peace and balance. If we could do it, anyone could do it.
“Will all due respect Edhel, that is nonsense. Monsters aren’t born, they are made. It is the mark of any intelligent species can adapt their behaviour to their environment for better or worse, and under the right care any so-called monster can grow to be a force for good,” I began, but while I searched for the right words Edhel shook his head.
“I appreciate your race is an empathetic one, Emma, your idealism is unfounded. As flesh eaters, a dragon must take the life of another animal or person to survive, or they will perish. As such, every dragon has taken a life. As long-lived creatures, they will have amassed a significant number of kills. As the land can only support so much animals, a dragon must be fiercely territorial and aggressive to remove competition, lest they starve. As such, even the most kind-hearted dragon alive must be violent and greedy, and their intelligence fuels this even more so if they know a bountiful land of morsels exists just outside their range.
Now perhaps a multitude of dragons may find a way to co-exist together in some settlement, but to support such a venture would require a large territory of prey, or a livestock animal. Perhaps they could support a large colony by farming grain for their livestock, but that would require effort on their behalf. As large animals, such efforts require a great deal of energy. Yet that size makes it easy for them to intimidate smaller races to do their labour for them, and to keep their client race in line dragons must be cruel. And even so, as their numbers grow so do their needs. As such, they must expand into the lands of their neighbours to survive until there is nothing left to devour, at which point they must turn against their own lest they starve. As such, it is the nature of dragons to conquer and devour. That is why there is no such thing as an innocent dragon,” finished Edhel.
I was speechless, not because I believed Edhel had a point, but because I was horrified at how easy he found it to rationalize the extermination of an entire sapient species. If this was how the elves thought, then it wasn’t the dragons who were the monsters. I suppressed that dark thought. Edhel’s thought process was a product of his culture, not a feature of his elven heritage. If there was any hope of peace between our people, I needed to show him there was another way of being. I needed to prove that co-existence was possible, no matter one’s nature.
I took a deep breath to steady myself before replying.
“That- that is a callous way of seeing things,” I began, though the shock was still there in my voice, “you speak as though there is no natural equilibrium with a dragon, that their only state of being must be to be cruel, to devour, to conquer. But I see things differently. In fact, I might wonder if a fledgling civilization might see the presence of a dragon as a boon rather than a curse. Being intelligent, the locals may be able to come to some agreement with the dragon. Perhaps they might leave some land as a hunting ground or offer up a share of their cattle or guard the dragon as it sleeps. In exchange, the dragon might allow them to build a town outside its mountain and protect them in times of danger. An equitable exchange. A civilization might even create artificial lairs to attract dragons for this very reason. True, some dragons may behave tyrannical towards their town, but a well armed populace of a large city would be more than capable of fighting such a threat, and a rational dragon might reason that threatening their own populace would put their reliable source of food and shelter at risk. You see, it’s all a matter of perspective.”
“You certainly are an imaginative one, Emma, to wonder up a quixotic world where the hare and the fox live together in harmony as equals. Even so, you seem to have ignored one key detail to such a society. What would happen should the dragon not be fed for months on end?” Asked Edhel with his eyebrow raised.
“The same thing as stranded a dozen starving, stranded Elves!” I spat back.
[Alert: Vehicle speed above recommended limit for conditions. Recommendation: slow down. ]
“I am driving slow!” I seethed, not realizing I had sped up with manual control enabled.
“I grow tired of this common prattle,” interjected Illunor just in time to prevent an awkward silence, “bard, play us another song.” “As my lord wishes,” said Edhel with a bow before turning to me with another smile, “perhaps a more soothing melody would be in order? A love song perhaps, to honour Cadet Booker’s compassionate nature?”
I said nothing as Edhel began to strum his lute again to the tune of a love story of a pair of doomed lovers named Ramian and Junette, hating his cheeky knowing grin that only served to get under my skin further as I focused on calming down and slowing the car back to a more reasonable pace before investigating a priority alert which I had been blinded to moments prior.
[Alert: hostile roadblock is absent, location unknown.]
Shit.
“Illunor, we may have a problem,” I said.
“Shush, Newrealmer, have you no class? We are almost at the best part! I’m sure it can wait,” replied the contextually clueless lizard.
I had never wanted to throttle Illunor as much as I did now.
“Illunor, shield, now,” I said with a raised voice.
“I don’t see-“ he started, pausing mid-sentence as his ears perked up.
[Alert: Multiple manafield and spell signatures detected!]
I took evasive maneuvers as Illunor tried to piece together a shield spell, fumbling it twice as panic appeared to set in and providing me with a reminder that Illunor was a civilian, not a soldier. A hail of arrows pelted the exterior of the truck, piercing but not penetrating the composite armour. I was tempted to do nothing but just drive away from the arrow fire, but a foreboding premonition of danger filled me as I recalled Sorecar’s hunter-seeker arrows.
Seeking to avoid that fate, I triggered the active defenses.
The smoke screens deployed around the vehicle, obscuring the sight of any who depended on visible light to see me. A barrage of decoy flares equipped with wooden cores shot upward at angles and diffusing to the side like a pair of giant wings which when combined with the MFD, short for mana-field dampener, inside the vehicle meant that the pelting hail of arrowfire softened to a whirr as the arrows whiffed over the top of the truck, retargeted away from the soft flesh of my passengers and even invoking friendly fire amongst the ambushers.
In the chaos, EVI and my drone swarm fed me complete tactical information on the ambush. Of the 26 individuals at the first blockade, 20 were accounted for, and 3 had died from friendly fire. Ahead at the bridge, 5 more of them were at the bridge where a barrier had been hastily erected to cage me in as the river valley was too deep to cross.
“Illunor, we need a bridge,” I said, taking stock of the wellbeing of my passengers.
The bard was huddled down low and suppressing his manafield, but otherwise rather composed. Illunor, on the other hand, was cowering in the gap between the seats with his hands covering his eyes and his tail tucked in.
“A bridge is no small request, Ne- Cadet Emma Booker,” replied Illunor, “and your ‘Emeffdee’ has blinded me to the outside of this moving death trap.”
“If I drop it, can you at least make a ramp?” I asked as I circled the battlefield. Or tried to, at least, as earthen ramparts emerged from the ground from a yet unseen source to cut off other avenues of escape.
“A ramp? Surely you don’t mean-“ he stammered.
“Yes or no,” I said.
Illunor paused, before taking an unsteady breath.
“Yes. But not with that Emeffdee,” he replied.
“Good. Steady your nerves and prepare to make a ramp ahead of us on my signal,” I said, “in the meantime, get your seatbelt on. This is going to be hairy.”
As I circled around to make my approach on the bridge, the final combatant made his appearance on a nearby tree, revealing himself as an elven mage. An alert focused on the air around him indicating he was preparing an unknown high-tier spell, and I locked the predator drone on him indicating the elf as a high-priority target if our escape plan failed, and I was forced to use lethal force.
If I was forced to kill.
It was one thing to know you may have to kill in the line of duty, but it was much harder to reconcile that with reality. No number of simulations could match the real thing, and a part of me wanted to simply offload the responsibility to EVI to keep my hands clean, but to do that would be betraying my duty as a human being. I breathed in deep and tried not to think about it, instead hoping to rely on the ace I held in my sleeve instead.
“EVI, ready the spell jammer,” I said unevenly.
“Acknowledged, the prototype Exo-Radiation Wave-Field Distruptor is primed. High risk target identified and locked, permission to engage?” EVI asked, forcing me to address the dreaded question.
“Negative,” I replied, “hold your fire. If the ramp fails, then you have permission to engage,” I said.
“Affirmative, on your mark,” replied EVI.
I lined up the truck with the bridge and bolted through the smoke, keeping a careful eye on the mage as I went. His spellform took on a more concerning shape as I accelerated, and I realized I could not afford to let him finish his spell. I triggered the spelljammer.
A terrible roar erupted from an array of speakers printed from mana-resistant materials that would have made Godzilla herself beam with pride. The sound was decidedly unnatural, gnarly, dubstep drop composed of an electric eel, a whale, a mountain lion, and a tyrannosaurus rex all being simultaneously assaulted by a swarm of angry cybernetic murder hornets as an equally chaotic wave of mana blasted outwards from the exterior of the truck, with the interior thankfully sheltered by audio and mana dampening.
The ambushing assailants cowered and panicked, and it was enough to cause the Elven mage’s spell to backfire in his face as his form exploded into ashes, meeting a horrific fate which I had tried so desperately to help him avoid. With all the combatants momentarily incapacitated or dead, I lowered the dampener and turned off the smoke.
“Ramp!” I shouted, snapping the lizard back to reality.
The Venerian nodded and hastily formed an earthwork ahead of us right before the blockade, and the truck leapt off the ramp with a not insignificant amount of air beneath our wheels. I braced for impact, regretting skimping on the shocks in the name of preserving materials, but the impact never came.
[Alert: Friendly spell designated ‘Feather Fall’]
Illunor thankfully had enough wherewithal to gently land the steel brick, and I sped off into the distance away from the trap that had unfolded behind us, leaving the interior of the truck in an awkward silence as we each processed our brush with death in our own way. “How many are dead?” I asked EVI.
“6 hostiles confirmed dead,” replied EVI.
I drove on in silence. Those were six deaths I had tried to avoid, and I became lost in thought as I wondered what I should have done differently to avoid the confrontation entirely.
Edhel broke the silence with a bout of laughter.
“Terrific! Absolutely terrific! Why, I can conjure up many a tale from this encounter alone! I live for this kind of inspiration!” Exclaimed Edhel a little too chipperly considering the circumstance.
“I would rather not hear stories about how I bravely ran away,” I moaned in deadpan sarcasm.
“You think too little of yourself, Cadet Emma Booker. It is plain to me that you are no ordinary rabbit. Make no mistake, I see it as a privilege to bear witness to the roar of a vorpal hare!” Said Edhel as he supressed his laughter, “though I am afraid with all the excitement that I must finish my song some other time.”
“How about I play some of our music?” I offered after the elf revealed his thrill-seeking side.
“Splendid, I would like that. Perhaps something of your ‘Roadtrip playlist’ you speak of? It sounds like a collection of your voyages,” said Edhel.
“That would be an improvement on the truth,” said Illunor dismissively as he eased from his state of shock, “it is little more than noise under the pretense of music.”
“Illunor…” I muttered to myself before turning the mic on, “no, no it’s not like that. I have terabytes of pre-recorded songs from various artists back home which can be played by… an artifice called a speaker. A playlist is a set of songs which are grouped together, usually to listen to in specific situations such as studying, partying, or travelling. The latter collection is what Illunor is referring to.”
I very deliberately chose not to reveal my ‘Unfortunate Daughters’ playlist.
“An artifice which plays music, and a magicless one at that. I must say, Emma, I fear for the bards in your realm,” said Edhel with a laugh.
“Your fear is misplaced, Edhel. Entertainers live like kings where I come from,” I retorted with a smirk of my own, “well, the ones with talent at least.”
“Well, well, I suppose I have to hear my competition!” Said Edhel with a laugh.
“Do as you must, though let it be known that I warned you,” said Illunor as he watched a play on his sightseer.
I had EVI compile a list of songs that left out content offensive to Nexian sensibilities or violating OpSec and as it compiled I mused over what type of sample spread I wanted to show off. Then it struck me. What better way to show off our culture than with some good old blue jumpers and nova rock! Sadly, jumpers were unavailable to show but I still had a whole list of modern artists to choose from.
Moments later, the car speakers sprung to life to the tune of ‘Innocent Youth of Mine. Edhel’s eyes lit up like a child visiting a zero-g gravity park for the first time, seemingly star-struck by the antique electric guitar and the synthesizer-drums in particular.
“What… what is this? I have never heard anything like this!” Proclaimed Edhel.
“Dreadful, isn’t it?” said Illunor, doing what he did best and pretending to hate it.
“Oh there is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own, “this one is called ‘Innocent Youth of Mine’ by ‘Cannons and Poppies’. It’s part of the Nova Rock genre.
“And those strange instruments?” Asked Edhel.
“Oh, you mean the electric guitar and the synthesizer. They are electronic instruments, taking advantage of channeled and modulated electricity to create near any sound we can imagine,” I replied.
“Channeled electricity… are you suggesting these sounds were made by some form of lightning?” Asked Edhel.
[Suggestion: Avoid topic of electricity due to OpSec risk]
I nodded at EVI’s warning, thankful that it caught me before I discussed the very thing that all of my equipment ran on.
“It’s not exactly lightning, but close enough,” I said.
“If I had not witnessed to your display of power earlier, I might have perhaps been more skeptical of such a claim, but I suppose a lady must keep her secrets.” said Edhel with a raised eyebrow and chuckle, “but I digress, this music is most interesting.”
“There is a lot more where that came from,” I said with a cheeky grin of my own.
“If I ever have a prisoner in need of torture, I will turn to you first,” replied Illunor, “if you are willing to subject your peers to this madness then I cannot imagine what you would force upon your enemies before dunking them in ice.”
“In your dreams,” I retorted.
I played a few other songs including Astrodesee’s ‘Meteor Struck’, the Martian classic ‘Hotel Cydonia’ and even ‘Switching to Warp’ before Elaseer emerged from the distance, and I pulled up outside the gate to drop Edhel off.
“Here already?” Asked Edhel.
“Well, yeah. I was just running a quick errand, I didn’t want to go too far,” I replied casually.
“That was a distance worth at least five days of walking by foot, and you call that a ‘quick errand’?” Asked Edhel. I shrugged, and he laughed.
“Well in any case, thank you for allowing me passage in your car. I must apologize for my lack of gift or payment…” said Edhel. “Don’t worry about it, it was on the way,” I replied.
“I see, how generous. Perhaps we might one day meet again?” Asked Edhel.
“Maybe, but I’m not sure how likely that is. The academy takes up most of my time,” I replied, “though you never know. I still have a lot of quest hours to complete.”
“Is that so? In that case, I hope we meet again! Goodbye Cadet Emma Booker and farewell Lord Illunor Rularia,” he said. “And good travels to you, bard,” said Illunor.
I waved off Edhel and drove back to the academy, Illunor still sulking in the back seat.
“Perhaps next time, you should steer us away from danger?” Suggested Illunor.
“I tried, but we were tracked,” I replied.
I groaned inwardly at the additional work needed to fix the truck. EVI compiled a list of upgrades for future engagements, batting away my idea for a ‘turbo mode’ and a ‘jump boost’. Though at the end of the day, meeting the bard wasn’t a complete loss. It felt good to talk to someone almost normal for once, and I hoped I met him again.
Edhel Redoehdelnif
I watched as Cadet Emma Booker’s vehicle went off into the distance, getting one last look at the Earthrealmer’s strange artifice before turning towards the gate. The voyage was an exotic experience, not unlike that of a fever dream or a peak into a world completely alien to my own. Indeed, it was a struggle to contain my excitement and enthusiasm and process the experience rationally as I made my way through the southern gates of Elaseer and turned the corner of an alley before entering an impossible structure that did not exist.
“You are earlier than expected,” said the shadowy figure of my handler as I made my way to the meeting hall.
“The Earthrealmer’s means of transportation proved far more expedient than anticipated, my lord” I spoke as I knelt before him, “even with her unexpected departure from the anticipated road and the ambush we traveled for scantly more than an hour.”
“Yes, I will require a full report from you. Perhaps you can shed some light on the ‘smoke dragon’ my men claim intervened on the Earthrealmer’s behalf,” said my handler.
“Smoke Dragon, my lord?” I asked.
My handler responded by activating his sight-seer, revealing how the ambush had appeared from the outside. The Earthrealmer’s uncanny artifice traversed down the road, a pair of manafields displaying proudly from within until the archers began their assault. The artifice then transformed as smoke billowed out from its pores and wings sprung forth above until it was the form of a mighty wrym with a pair of glowing eyes springing forth from its ever extending head where it then gave forth a terrible unholy roar which sent waves of mana outward. The mage working to seal the area and trap their mark vapourized in an instant as his spell backfired. It was apparent to Edhel that his exceptional experience in the carriage was merely a muted rendition of the events unfolding around them.
It would seem the hare had the shadow of a dragon.
“I do have some insight, though I must confess the Earthrealmer did very little in the way of direct action. I suspect she has some unseen means of commanding and scrying through her artifices,” I said, “one which does not utilize magic as we know it.”
“Such a statement is heresy,” said my handler, “but such special circumstances are your reason for being. I will require you submit your memories for verification. What is your appraisal of the new realmer?”
“The girl is far more dangerous than a surface appraisal would suggest, though she prefers to conceal that power rather than utilize it out of a misplaced sense of compassion. Her people appear to have a boundless creative drive through which such artifices are birthed, though again it is misdirected towards more common applications. I believe that if properly tamed, this human animal may provide us with great works of art,” I said with a bow.
“I see. Does the girl know you work for us?” Asked my handler.
“She may harbour some suspicions, though did not voice them outright beyond concealing her knowledge,” I said, “though nothing significant. Provided our next meet is under believable circumstances such as a festival she should view me as cordial.”
“She has indeed proven clever,” conceded my handler, “very well, I will make arrangements for your paths to cross again. Perhaps I will arrange for her to be a contestant at the next inter-academy tournament. In the mean time, prepare your report and don’t wander far. This is a priority assignment.”
“As you wish, my lord,” I said with a bow and a smile.
Emma Booker had proved to be an interesting animal indeed, and I hoped our paths crossed again.

Basically there's an AC unit that last summer killed me and made me unable to sleep, and now it's back. So I'm preparing myself and earplugs unfortunately enlarged my ear canal,causing itching. So if I'm going custom might as well get IEMs. More reliable then ANC, not as much battery consumption.
What are some good options that ideally don't go deep inside my ear? Even wired is perfectly fine, means I won't have to replace batteries.
Thanks a lot

I'm experiencing a frustrating battle with eczema on the inside of my arms between my forearms and biceps -- ditto for an eczema patch on my chest + the front of my neck. I've been battling this for around 2 weeks.
I've literally been throwing the kitchen sink --- trying various fragrance-free and lotions accepted by the National Eczema Association that usually have worked well for me in the past. And I've tried several different ones (from LaRoche Posay, Cerave, Aveeno, Bioderma, etc.) -- for whatever reason, when I've applied any of them to those areas with eczema -- it STINGS. Seems like a "broken" skin barrier. Also I use fragrance-free soap-free body washes like Honest Soothing Therapy Eczema Body Wash.
The least irritating over-the-counter topical lotions/creams I've been able to apply with minimum (but not zero) irritation are Cerave Itch Relief Moisturzing Cream --- and Triple Paste diaper rash cream (both products approved by the National Eczema Association). But I'm not seeing any improvement even with those 2 creams.
I'm open to hearing suggestions for any over-the-counter lotions + creams that have worked well for you when your usual lotions + creams for eczema have stung your skin. Thanks!
p.s. -- something one of my friends suggested is to NOT put any lotion or cream on the eczema patches -- is that a solution that has worked for any of you?

So since i was 13 i have these weird symptoms sometimes after pooing. Itching on anus and inside, burning (but not always) and very small (dried, not fresh) specks of blood on toilet paper (during those days) but never in stool.
Now (20 years old) i have these things sometimes but especially after hard stools or diarrhea (diarrhea also causes rash around anus and red anus) and then when i start walking. Now apparently it can be due to hemohrroids or anal fissures, which is completely normal. Can be very very annoying but it gets better after a day or 2 when it all heals. I asked my father if he also has same symptoms and he says that he does but apparently he does have hemohrroid diagnosis.
Now, because i am very curious i googled about my symptoms and ofc it was hemohroids and anal fissures. But i dug very very deep until i came to you guys lol. I am hypochondriac and became scared of perianal crohns (mostly stoma but yeah) .But apparently it can also cause fistulas and other things that i dont have (i only sometiems have zits on buttocks but taht is normal, it is never very big or inflamed). It would prob get worse by now, right? Also people with perianal crhons have symptoms of general crhons disease too. I dont have anyone in my family that has crhons disease and i am pretty sure my symptoms havent gotten worse since i was 13.
Now ik some people will say that i should go to the doc but as i said, it doesnt bother me and does get better.
So my question is... Do you guys have similasame symptoms? Does it come and go for you because it does for me

Are there any supplements or medicine I can take to get rid of this symptom? I have insomnia so I know it's a contributing factor.
I also have a constant itch on a particular part of the inside of my right nostril that is constant. It's like a dry itchy feeling, and im tired of picking that part of my nose with tissue. Very akward in public. I had a balloon nasoplasty on my right nostril a few weeks ago, and it definitely helped my sinusitis quite a bit. I also do neil med nasal rinses twice a day now but still have the symptoms.

Blake was listening to his sister through his headphones while she ripped into him about his hopeless addiction to pornography. He rolled his eyes as she went on and on about his sexist attitudes and his distorted views on women and sex. If his sister had only known that he was scrolling through explicitly drawn versions of Marge Simpson and Lois Griffin in various poses with various props, she would have hung up the phone and given up.
As far as Blake was concerned there were no distortions in his mind about women. He had lived through so many interactions and had seen so many videos of women being terrible people that it only reinforced his bias.
Porn didn’t judge Blake. Porn didn’t make Blake do things that he didn’t want to do. He spent time with women the way he wanted to. If he wanted a woman to act a certain way, he could find a video where she did just that.
The way he saw it, women wanted a lot, and if they didn’t get what they wanted, they made everyone’s life hell until they did. Conversely, if a man wanted something, it was tough luck. He watched his mother treat his father like that until the day he died, overworked and unhappy.
Less than a year after his mother put his father in the ground, she was with someone else that she was all too happy to control. Porn gave Blake the control, and he liked it.
“Blake, I love you, but you’re going to waste your whole life in front of a screen holding your dick.”
“Don’t you have another kid that you should be working on squirting out?”
She hung up.

Blake was caught watching videos at work again, but this time he had a plan. He knew eventually that he would be caught, but after losing three jobs for the very same reason, he hatched a simple way of ensuring that he wouldn’t lose out on any money, and be able to stick it to the boss and company he hated for no other reason than employing him.
Blake was called into his manager’s office, but before anything could be said, Blake blurted out that he needed to take mental leave. He sobbed in front of his manager while he said that the job was giving him thoughts of hopelessness and self harm, but he was smiling on the inside. He was talking just loud enough for a few people outside of the office to hear him.
His manager's face was red.
“Cornered you, bitch.” Blake thought to himself. “Good luck firing someone who’s crying out for mental help.”
Blake figured that he’d be able to stretch this out for at least a month. A month of paid time off doing what he loved.

“It’s my phone!” he muttered to himself as he rode the elevator down to his new found freedom. “If people have a problem with the things I’m looking at, perhaps they shouldn’t be looking over my shoulder and mind their own fucking business.”
He didn’t mind the other people in the elevator, or their awkward expressions. They didn’t matter to him. No one really did.

Still on a high from manipulating his boss into a corner, Blake decided to do something new on the bus ride to his apartment building. He clicked on a video. He wasn’t exactly watching the video, rather he was watching people’s reactions out of the corners of his eyes.
He kept the volume low, but up just enough so the moaning could be heard.
At first, people around him were wondering if they were actually hearing what they thought they were hearing.
He was trying not to laugh at their reactions. People began to move to other seats, and soon enough, everyone was giving him disgusted looks.
“Fuck em.” he whispered.
He noticed one man sitting in the back of the bus who was giving him quite a different look than everyone else. The man was well dressed. Perfect hair. Perfect teeth.
He was smiling at Blake.
Blake, a self admitted and overly enthusiastic homophobe, turned off the video. He began to worry that he had attracted the wrong kind of attention.

Blake was all too eager to get out of the bus and hurry towards the doors to his building. He heard a voice behind him that caused him to catch a breath and lose his forward progress. He turned around. It was the beautiful man from the back of the bus.
“Excuse me! I’d like to have a word!”
Blake found his voice hypnotic, and his stride was elegant, almost like he was floating just above the cracked and cruddy sidewalk.
“I uh… couldn’t help but notice what you were doing on the bus young man. I think I have something you might be interested in.”
Blake was lost in that voice. He had never been attracted to another man, but he was feeling things inside himself that he’d never felt before, and he hated himself for it. After a long awkward silence, Blake finally found his voice.
“Look buddy, take your pixy dust and bother someone else. You’re not my type.”
“Oh, you’re definitely my type.” The beautiful man laughed and handed him a plain white business card with nothing but a web address on it. “In so many different ways, you’re exactly my type.”
“What is this?”
“It’s my business, Kid. You want videos you can’t tear yourself away from? Trust me. It’s the newest thing.”
He winked at Blake and walked away.
-
Blake was staring at his screen while he was riding in the elevator. There was a paywall. A dollar for the first month, then a hundred dollars a month after that.
No screenshots or thumbnails, just a form for a credit card. As the doors opened to his floor, he put his phone in his pocket and decided against any further investigation. He was sure that it was a scam of some kind.

Until ten o’clock that night, Blake engaged in his normal activities with one new addition he had begun almost two weeks prior. He built two shelves in front of two different air vents in his apartment, and he had placed speakers on the shelves. The tenants in his building got to experience all of the auditory pleasures of the thrusting and jiggling and smacking that he was watching.
Blake made sure he followed the rules, and nothing came out of those speakers after ten p.m., but it was fair game until that time.
He would laugh to himself thinking about the tenants having to listen. He wasn’t sure how far the sound traveled through the vents, but he figured that most people on his floor were getting a good chunk of it.
That night though, his usual joyful time in front of his phone, his 70 inch television, and his newly discovered fondness for Cerave was marred by the thought of something unique and dangerous out there that he hadn’t seen.
After several attempts at a satisfactory denouement in his masturbatory madness, Blake finally gave up, raised the white flag on its limp post, and went to bed.

Blake kept hearing the man’s siren-like voice in his head while he tried to sleep. After almost two hours of tossing and turning, he sat up and snatched his phone from the charger and typed his credit card information into the mysterious site. He just had to know.
The site opened up and he was instantly intrigued. There were no thumbnails on any of the videos, but the descriptions on each of them were so graphic, profane, and dehumanizing that it would do us all a great service if they were not repeated here. Blake’s favorite appendage however, jumped to a zealous attention at the graphic depictions that the perverse descriptions painted within his brain.
Blake stripped off his briefs and sat down on the edge of his bed. His left hand gripped the phone while his right hand eagerly gripped something else.
He clicked on the first video and it began to load.
Blake waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The video wasn’t loading, so Blake decided to try another one, only to find that his left thumb wouldn’t move. He realized that his entire body was stiff. Nothing would move with the exception of his eyes. He couldn’t even speak.
All he could do was stare at the glowing screen in the darkness of his apartment.
After a moment, his mind started to race while his body remained ridiculously rigid.

Three hours had passed. Blake had been able to see every minute tick by. He had watched his battery meter slowly run down to eighty percent. He had thought that his screen would eventually turn off, but it never did. It was still trying to load the video.
Something was tickling his nose and his face itched. His back had begun to ache and he felt some tiny pin pricks along his still turgid tool. He wanted to cry, but nothing would come. In fact, his eyes had begun to dry because he had not been able to blink.
Blake watched another hour go by before his body finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep, in spite of the fact that he could not close his eyes.

He awoke six hours later and his vision was partially obscured. Still holding his phone and his phallus, Blake tried to scream. The sun was now coming through the window of his apartment. He could see his reflection in the mirror that was on the opposite wall. His hair was long, and it was white. A spotty and wiry beard had exploded out of his face and it hung down to just above his enlarged and sagging nipples set in a sagging and flabby chest.
His breaths were shorty and ragged; phlegm was gurgling with each inspiration.
His arms and legs were covered in large liver spots and all of his skin was a purple paper thin.
He was old.
The shock of seeing his hunched and rigid reflection had staved off the feeling of pain from his nether regions for only a moment. His fingernails were growing on his hands. Some of the yellow things were curling around his phone while the others were curling and jabbing into what now looked like a deflated balloon stretched too thin, that was desperately trying to retreat into his abdomen against his rigid grip.
The battery on his phone was blinking.
It was about to die. He wondered what happened when the battery ran out, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew exactly what would happen when that loading screen finally went dark.
His sister’s words were all he could think about as the screen and the world went dark.

After several nights of peace, Blake’s neighbors noticed an awful smell emanating from the air vents. After several complaints, the building’s Super opened Blake’s apartment and found the withered, still rigid frame of a dead old man sitting upright on the edge of the bed.
After taking several photos that he would post later on social media and stealthily absconding with almost a full bottle of Cerave, the Super called the authorities.

Hey I am a 17 year old guy who has been on self improvement for like 2 years and I have been very successful, I always thought that you can choose whether or not you suffer and based on that God will reward you with something
I had almost everything back when i was 16 but there was an itch inside of me a crawing if you will, i wanted a girlfriend so bad, you see i was the typical horny teenager and i basicly wanted to fuck. That all was given to me, a lovely girlfriend who is willing to have sex with me like seven times a week, it is becouse she likes the way we get along. That all seemed like heaven until today we decided to drink I had buddy over too.
After some drinks I was still sober in my mind not in my body but totally good in the head. Thankfully there was nothing that involved my bestfriend and my girlfriend, but aomething strange happened this night, after my buddy was gone, we hooked up and had an amazing time, only she was scary she wanted me spank her and beat her and do unspeakable things.... She became like a pornstar which was okay while we fucked but with postnut clarity came the realization what has happened.... We made videos(which we would have never done if we were sober) and she wanted me to pull of my condom(which is really not her, she alway said to me that i should pull it out even with a condom to avoid pregnancy) and said that she wants me to impragnate her and that she wants to be pregnant.....
I didn't do it of course but now im affraid of what she is capable when drunk ... I am open for advice please help me what should i do? I love her but this drinking thing scares me

idk how to explain this feeling other than this...like how u might itch ur skin but u keep itching tje same spot it hurts but imagine someone scratching that spot for days thats how i feel but mentally and its a painfull feeling...its as if there is someone inside of me and is stracthing the same spot again and again and again and again and its so frustrating and painfull..it makes me want to peel my skin off my face and rip my body in shreds its not a feeling i can deal with anymore does anyone else feel that way?

Being a natural skeptic, this is a story I never thought I’d be telling. I grew up reading those short, half-edited horror stories that were so popular on the internet, scaring myself out of sleep too many times to count as a kid. These days, I’m still too scared to fall asleep, just like I was when I was 11 reading stories on boards I had no business browsing. This time, though, it isn’t typed words on my aging laptop that have my heart unable to beat calmly in my chest. It isn’t the long traded campfire story that has the hairs on my neck standing in unease.
It’s the envelope sitting on my desk, taunting me as I glance at it from across the room. The top torn open haphazardly, its contents situated neatly against the worn wood grain.
It’s the words that are typed so neatly along the page, bringing back every foul memory I can conjure.
“Thank you for donating.
Come back and see us again soon,
Mr. Weller.”
~
The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting a golden hue over the endless river of asphalt stretching out before me. This highway, flanked by gnarled mesquite trees and sporadic billboards advertising the next southern baptist church, had become somewhat of a familiar friend over the years. It was the unofficial gateway between my life at college and my small hometown nestled on the border of Texas and Louisiana.
I adjusted my review mirror, catching a glimpse of my own tired reflection. Summer break was finally here and I had high-tailed it from the campus as soon as my last final exam hit my professor’s desk. Gone was the grueling cycle of exams, papers, and endless nights spent hunched over textbooks. Whoever said that the college years were the best of their life needed to find the nearest sharp object to take a seat on.
As I drove, the familiar scenery slipping by in a soothing blur, my phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts. The screen flashed “Mom”, causing the involuntary roll of my eyes.
“Hey, Mom, I’m on the road. What’s up,” I spoke into the phone, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice.
”Hi, sweetheart! How close are you to home?” Her voice was warm and overly sweet, exactly the tone she used when she was about to ask for an inconvenient favor.
“Probably a few hours out. Why?”
“Perfect! Listen, can you do me a favor and pick up a case of beer for your dad? He invited his friends over tonight and I don’t have time to run to the store with all the cooking-,” she explained quickly, probably sensing my sigh of annoyance before I could even take a breath.
”Mom,” I interrupted evenly, “you do realize there are, like, zero places to stop for miles, right? The last couple hours are practically deserted.”
“I know, but most gas stations always have the kind your dad likes. Just stop at the next one you see, okay?”
I groaned internally, glancing at my half full gas gauge. I had filled up the tank this morning specifically so I wouldn’t have to stop once on the drive.
“Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”
”You’re the best,” Mom sighed in relief, her tone calm again. “Drive safe, honey.”
With that, she hung up, leaving me to the rhythmic drone of the road and my dusty second hand CD’s once again.
I kept my eyes peeled for the next gas station, hoping to get the beer run out of the way sooner rather than later. About 20 minutes after Mom’s call, a rundown gas station came into view, its neon sky flickering erratically against the dusky sky. Like most gas stations in the middle-of-nowhere-south, it looked like it hadn’t seen a renovation since at least the 70’s.
Pulling in, I parked next to a rusted out pickup and stepped out, the heat and humidity immediately oppressive. The place reeked of old oil and dust, the air thick with the smell of mildew. I made my way inside, the crude “bell” over the door made of old fishing lures and soda caps jingling half-heartedly as I entered.
If I thought the outside of the joint was sad, the inside was plain pathetic. Dimly lit and cluttered with off brand snacks and outdated magazines, I wouldn’t be surprised if it hadn’t been stocked since at least the 70’s. I quickly located the cooler, grabbing a case of Keystone Light and headed to the counter. I tried not to breathe the air in too deeply, a little afraid of whatever strange diseases probably lingered.
The attendant behind the counter was a greasy, wiry man with sunken eyes and a gaunt face. He glanced up from his equally disheveled book, watching me approach with an intensity that made me uneasy. Placing the beer on the counter, I fished out my license, hoping to make this transaction as quick as possible. He eyed me while I pulled my wallet out, his voice reeking of prolonged cigarette and cheap whiskey.
“Headed to Texas?” he gruffed.
I nodded slowly, trying to piece together how he knew. I was still at least an hour and a half from the border. “Yeah, lucky guess.” I chuckled uneasily.
”Not lucky at all,” he drawled out, “Saw yer license plate.”
I turned towards the glass door, seeing the direct line to my car.
“Ah,” I responded, not quite sure what else to add as I put down my drivers license next to the case of beer.
Is this how social interactions at gas stations are supposed to go?
The greasy man picked up my license, his gaze lingering on it a bit too long as he rang the beer up without glancing at the register.
“You’re an organ donor,” he remarked, casual, as if it were something he asked every day.
Nope. Definitely not a normal interaction.
”Uh, yeah. Just in case, I guess.”
He handed back the license and I fought the urge to wipe whatever strange grime he accumulated on his hands off my card.
“Makes you a good person,” he nodded, offering me a rotted grin.
I forced a smile, increasingly eager to get the hell out of this place. “How much?”
”Fifteen seventy three.” He replied, his accent catching over the vowels.
I handed over two wrinkled 10s, wondering if I should tell him to keep the change so I wouldn’t have to handle anything else he touched. Before I could decide, the man spoke again, peering back at the door.
”Yer headed the wrong way if yer trynna get to Texas. Should take the next left up ahead.”
I frowned, unable to keep up my polite mask much longer. “The road’s straight the whole way,” I argued, “I’ve driven it a hundred times.”
The grimy mess of a man simply smiled, a thin, almost predatory smile.
“Only bein polite. Suit yerself”
I took my change and beer, muttering a quick thanks before bolting it out of there. The encounter left an uncomfortable feeling in my chest, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of those piercing eyes on my back as I walked to my car.
Last time I do a favor for mom, I thought dramatically.
Once inside the safety of my car, I locked the doors and started the engine, eager to put distance between myself and that disgusting gas station. The man’s words and shit-eating grin echoed in my mind, but I dismissed them. The road home was straight, I knew that much for certain.
As the miles ticked by, I found myself turning the music up louder and louder, trying to shake off the unease from the encounter. I tried focusing on the familiar landmarks and the lyrics of the songs I’d heard a thousand times. Thankfully, it only took a few songs for it to work.
The sun began to dip lower into the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the road. I figured I was about an hour from home at this point, my mind itching to be home.
It took me longer than I’d like to admit to see that something was seemingly… wrong.
When I glanced to the side, expecting fields of unkempt brush and patches of cactus, instead I saw short, twisted trees. My eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of the misplaced flora. I let off the gas slightly, slowing down the car to take in the patches of damp, soggy earth peppering the fields. I looked behind me, my brain desperate to rationalize the sudden change of environment. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach.
This wasn’t right. I had driven this route countless times and the scenery had never changed so drastically. How in the world had I driven myself into a bog?
The road, usually straightforward and predictable, now seemed to wind and twist as my car crept along it, each bend revealing more of the eerie, waterlogged terrain. Doubts crept in, swift and harsh. Had I missed a turn? Was that psycho right after all?
The feeling of unease grew stronger with each passing mile. The familiar landmarks were gone, replaced by dense foliage and the occasional decrepit and rotted building. I glanced at my phone, picking it up in hopes of checking my GPS, but my heart sank when I saw the “no service” icon in the corner.
Panic began to set in, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I needed to find a way back to the main road, or at least to a road sign.
Just as the sense of dread threatened to overwhelm me, I spotted a building up ahead, its bright lights cutting through the encroaching darkness of dusk. Relief flooded through me. Whatever this place is, surely someone in there can tell me where I got turned around.
However, the sight before me only had my eyebrows furrowing deeper. A clean, well-lit, white building stood amidst the desolate landscape, almost cartoonishly out of place. It looked brand new, too pristine for its surroundings. Like a beacon of hope in a sea of… muck.
Desperation overrode my hesitancy of such a place, fueling my decision to pull over. I parked my car in the well-paved lot, comforted by the other vehicles sitting under the bright lights.
I made my way to the entrance, the glass doors sliding open smoothly as I approached. The stark white walls and sterile smell hit me immediately, a stark contrast to the humid smell of wood rot outside.
Is this some sort of clinic?
I paused as I looked around, my eyes landing on a front desk. A cheery looking woman with a bright smile sat behind it, her eyes already on me.
”Good evening! Are you here to donate?” she called out, her voice light and airy.
I turned back to the door for a moment, my instincts not quite thrilled being in such a strange place, but the idea of trying to get myself un- lost in the dark pushed me further towards the front desk.
”Uh, no. I’m actually lost,” I responded, giving the woman a weak smile. “I’m trying to get to Texas and I think I may have taken a wrong turn. Can you point me in the right direction?”
Her smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. Disappointment? Annoyance? It was hard to tell.
”Of course, sugar. But why don’t you take a seat first?”
I glanced around to what I now assumed was a waiting room. The occupants were an odd assortment of characters, each making me more uneasy than the last. An elderly man in disheveled clothes sat closest, muttering to himself while looking straight through me.
A few seats down sat a young woman with stringy hair, as if she had just gotten out of the shower. Her eyes looked red and puffy and I could only assume she either was terribly allergic to bogs, or she had been crying for a while.
Next, a man with a little girl sitting beside him caught my attention. The girl clutched a small stuffed bunny, her eyes regarding me curiously. She seemed to be the only person aware of my existence and I threw a small smile her way. Her eyes shifted immediately, darting nervously back to the man beside her. The man had no reaction, continuing to stare straight ahead with a vacant expression.
Lastly, a businessman sat in the corner, his wrinkled suit and messy hair contradicting his aloof demeanor. He held a phone to his ear, checking his watch intermittently. The whole scene of the room reeked of impatience and unease, making my skin crawl.
What the hell is this place?
I turned back to the front desk, forcing a smile. “Listen, ma’am. I’m really just looking for directions. I don’t need an appointment.”
The woman tilted her head slightly, her smile never wavering. “Mr. Weller can see you for a donation. It won’t take long.”
“I really don’t have time for that. I just need to get back on the road,” I insisted, the edge of desperation beginning to creep into my voice.
She ignored my plea, typing something into the computer. “Mr. Weller will be with you shortly. Please, take a seat.”
Frustration boiled over. I was about to argue further when I noticed the other patients had started to stare, their gazes heavy and expectant. The atmosphere in the room shifted to feel charged, almost oppressive.
Deciding I had seen quite enough, I muttered quickly. ”Thanks, but I’m going to pass,” and turned on my heel, making a beeline for the exit.
The nurse’s cheerful farewell followed me out, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in my bones.
I hurried back to my car, the clinic’s lights painting long shadows across the parking lot. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I locked the doors and took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The “clinic” had rattled me more than I cared to admit.
As I started the engine and pulled back onto the road, the clinic quickly disappeared from view, swallowed by the hungry night. My mind raced, grappling with the bizarre turn of events. The woman at the front desk’s insistence, the strange people in the waiting room, and the clinic itself…
none of it made sense.
Determined to put this fever dream behind me and find my way home, I refocused on the road ahead, hoping that with a bit of luck, I could retrace my steps and escape this unsettling detour. The landscape grew darker, the swamp closing in around me, but I pressed on, clinging to the desperate hope that familiar sights were just around the next bend.
The feeling of unease clung to me like an unwanted second skin as I drove further on, minutes passing with no change. Eventually, at least an hour passed, the monotony of the road broken only by the occasional curve and the distant croaking of frogs. I had long since shut off my radio, seeing as no amount of Lynyrd Skynyrd could make the situation better.
My eyes strained against the darkness, searching for any road signs or landmarks.
Yet as time wore on, familiar trees passing by, an alarming realization began to settle in.
Despite making no turns. Despite the road seemingly taking me far away,
I was back where I started.
Bright lights pierced the gloom ahead, the parking lot coming into view mocking my attempt to leave. My heart sank, a cold wave of dread washing over me the closer I got.
I was back at the clinic.

• my first symptoms of concern was this itch and small rashes that would move around my body I initially put it down to using too much deet due to the amount of fishing and adventuring we had been doing, keep in mind Dan n my relationship is only a few months in and this is the first time in 13 years of cohabitating with another adult human live in for me!
• you got the picture I was diagnosed by a doctor that happened to be workingthat Saturday we walked out happy but unfortunately this could not be furtherest away from being happy nor rid of these party pooper fun police fuck wits
• 15 doctors seen all having their own go at my prognosis umpteen emergency visits just to be semt away with another fist full of prescriptions n still no real answer as to what r these black spots that just appear randomly all different sizes
• dermatologist referrals x2 gone quiet, since my last diagnosis from the doc saying “you have a manifested infestation, not sure how you can make tunnels n burrows appear out of your skin
  
• With the treatment ps I have large swollen areas like they are in there rallying the troops FFS
  
• Yes delirium is real – this is proving to you how strong you are, WARRIOR AT WAR!
  
• I HAVE tried many NONconservative methods that would be frowned upon BY many example of this is MALOWASH for dogs YEP I did that bow my head in shame NOT (a girl needs to go fishing and nothing should stop that especially these crawling critters from the bowels of hell – that is all except by my ever endearing father – we joke daily on what we were going to do to them next, Dad is ex pest control so he suggested the CLOTHES dryer and our STAR WARS LASER (none other than his fogger from the old days) – solution in fogger is White Spirits & Fipronil – highly toxic to pets / humans everyone needs to leave the house go outside and get around 60-90 sunlight on everyones bellies will do you all the world of good while that settles – the fogger person needs to be the least effected by the free loaders in order to protect the open wounded from the poison. PS my Mum is right up in it too, shes like “oh good you got that next stuff on send me some videos” (cause I have nothing better to do with my time)
  
• Ensure you are organized this is going to test your will power, everyone in the household needs to be responsible for if they see a white or black spec no matter what the fuck it is, pick it up on your FINGER AND GO TO THE NEAREST SINK AND WASH the dickheads away – its about reducing the population people, if you are going to play with them and video them same again go wash your hands dispose of the village idiot and redo your golden juice tube or LICENER at the least – the LICENER IS going to ensure you use the cream only where they need to be terroised enough to move out but uh you have a LICENER BARRIER UP and they do not go past that, I squeeze the licener into my scalp when I feel a itch rather than scratch at it – THESE ARE THE VILLAGE IDIOTS THE LESS INTERACTION WITH THEM THE BETTER! They were the words of my amazing partner Dan that basically came up with this devised plan and now work in progress – good steed to all further installments to follow.
  
• Stay on top of the Panadol every 4 hours along with your histermine regime I am on some like anti depressant gay meds for sleep FML I so wanted valium or a million dollars either or. I got a whiteboard marker n note next Panadol,antihistamine due then that’s one less thing to remember or ask another question for haha
  
• My amazing partner scientist sent me this link – he wasn’t ever giving up hope on this and has been ever so supportive even with it coming onto my face now, I know abstain abstain blah blah YOU ALL NEED TO DO THE CATEGORY TEST FOLLOW THIS LINK AND GET YOURSELF SORTED ASAP
  
• https://dermnetnz.org/topics/crusted-scabies
  
• MY Dan we got all the medication together and organized first so we were not going to be let down by the plan; Day 1 ORAL & TOPICAL – 24 HOUR STAY ON TIME – I wear bike pants cause my legs are not bad at all – COAT IN LICENER AND PUT ON yes its hard but just deal – cut up a clove of garlic and half for one foot and half for the other put clove inside sock on the bottom of your feet again deal! – chop up and swallow 4 cloves of garlic or if the littles of the fam can’t swallow buy – ORGANIC CRUSHED GARLIC AND get in over a few meals. DAY 2 ORAL & TOPICAL – 24 HOURS STAY ON WILL BE MIDNIGHT TONIGHT FOR next shower regime. DAY 3-7 TOPICAL WITH THE 24 max STAY ON – STAY TUNED – if you want pics just e-mail me please at [rebecca.medley@pipanz.com](mailto:rebecca.medley@pipanz.com)
  
• we also spray the house every morning with 50/50 ALCO 75% & VINEGAR we call it VINISO SPRAY on skirting boards vacuum 3 times a day n have a hand held with a Hepa filter so convenient remember to empty wash let dry in the sun put on charge
  
• I have made a receipe that goes into small balls that attracts them they eat some of it and take back to any nests of any pesty crawling critters – we hardly have an ant now so winning.
  
• support your support person while they are resting n you are up with your tweekers do some house work to make the next day a little nicer for them too, try your hardest not to make this the focus of your time together helps everyone mentally cope, he is out fishing right now has his phone I hope he catches a fish but mainl gets some alone time in his thoughts xx
  
• The sun is your friend 90 minutes minimum while thick for cushions pillows that can’t go in the dryer
  
• need more tips or want pics email this Bec 7 months post contraction 5 months infested
  

there is heaps more to the Bec n Dan story
Pics are life pre infestation n to now 🙃🙃🙃
rebecca. r[mailto:rebecca.medley@pipanz.com](mailto:rebecca.medley@pipanz.com)

Last night my university appeared on the news.
As I watched the broadcast, listening to my old television set sputter and cough like a used car engine, I swore the temperature plummeted several degrees. The newscaster was still droning on in the background but it could’ve just been static. Meaningless.
It is always the same with this news broadcast. Burned and charred stone and concrete lying around in a pentagon in a way that could make any abstract artist proud. I try, whenever it comes up, to ignore everything scrolling on the screen. Or at the very least, skim through the programme. The less details I remember, the better.
But every time, my eyes are drawn to one tiny thing on the screen. It stands out screaming, a splash of red in an ocean of black. I can’t forget it no matter how hard I try, and it slips into my nightmares and I wake up screaming.
A rune of a blood-stained sword, inked in red and carved neatly in the stone.
“This is our pride and joy,” he nodded, gesturing to a rune of a blood-stained sword. His sunflower name badge read James and he was cute. Tousled hair, playful freckles–the works.
I swear girls swooned when they saw him.
The year was 2004 and I wished fighting over James was the least of our problems. Even now, during orientation week, a great hush fell over our little tour group. Everyone shifted their feet nervously and tied their fingers into knots.
James laughed.
“The stories about Helena Sword? That’s just it. Stories.”
“All the stuff you heard about her before you came here, they’re simply not true. Just something stupid to scare the freshies, that’s all.”
He trailed off in the middle of his speech, staring off into the distance.
“It’s been a thousand years after all…”
He laughed again, but it was as empty as the wind blowing down the halls. He cracked a smile, but his face was pale like the rest of us.
“Anyway,” he said, “the library is just down this hallway too. When our founder, Sir Gallus, founded this place, he sought out books from all over the world…”
As the rest of the tour moved on, I couldn’t help but stay behind. I was no archeologist, but there was something about this rune that would not let me go. I stroked the rune, fascinated by how my fingers crossed tall ridges and tiny valleys. It was very simply carved, almost like a child’s drawing of a sword brought to life, but as I turned to catch up with everyone else, I realised I wasn’t alone.
She was pretty, a girl around my height and build, with striking red curls and a rather long neck, almost like a giraffe. A tattoo poked out behind long blue sleeves, dressed in red ink. The girl turned to me and grinned sheepishly.
“Are you lost?”
I frowned. “Sorry?”
“The tour group moved on without you,” she stated, pointing ahead. Indeed I could hear James’ voice in the distance, rambling on about the portraits in the halls. I looked back at her and she nodded grimly.
“My name is Ginny,” she said, extending her hand. I shook it. It was as cold as ice. In fact, when I looked at her, it was like gazing at an ice sculpture, with frosty eyes and dainty lips.
“It’s my first day here too. Except well…my parents brought me here yesterday. So I know this school inside out. Do you want me to show you around? You don’t need that tour group. Especially since they well…abandoned you.”
My head was suddenly foggy. “Yes, please,” I mumbled.
In spite of her offer, Ginny didn’t say much as we walked through the campus. Didn’t point out anything interesting landmarks or anything like that; didn’t talk much about herself either. Instead we wandered through the grounds, enjoying each other’s company. It was the beginning of autumn, and golden leaves were falling down and the trees looked like they were on fire. Overhead we could hear migrating birds singing. It was lovely.
Eventually we reached my dorm.
And hers.
Ginny was my roommate. I found it strange, since I didn’t recall having a roommate or asking for one; and even if I did, wouldn’t I be informed of it months ago? Someone that I would share my life with for the next three years? But then she looked at me and smiled and all my questions flew out of my head. I mumbled a yes to her offer of assistance and we spent the rest of the afternoon making our dorm look like home.
Then we went down for dinner and were joined in the mess hall by two other girls, Ivy and Cleo, who told us their room would be next door to us. We sat down with our mashed potatoes and roast chicken and they immediately drummed up conversation, talking about their lives before they came to university, what they hoped to achieve during their time here, and everything in between.
“So what are you guys studying?” Ivy asked.
“Psychology,” I said. Helping people has always been a lifelong dream.
“Computer Science,” Ivy and Cleo said at the same time.
We all looked at Ginny. She stared back, completely taken aback by the question.
“Um,” she said, “Computer Science too, I suppose. That’s getting popular, right?”
“Yup,” Ivy mumbled, her head bowed over her mashed potatoes like a broken flower. “Everyone is fighting to get their slice of the Internet these days…”
We continued our meal in silence, the conversation suddenly over. We walked up together, too, and it felt strangely uncomfortable. A dark cloth had fallen over our little group, leaving behind an itch we could never scratch.
Finally we reached our dorms and we looked at each other.
“Well, good night then,” Ivy said. Cleo was already inside and I could hear her brushing her teeth.
“See you at breakfast.”
“Good night,” I said. Ivy nodded and closed the door.
Ginny was already in her bunk, her nose in a book. There was already a stack next to her, as tall as a mountain, and by the glare in her eyes, passionate and intense as fire, it looked like she was going to be reading all night.
“Don't classes start next week?” I asked with a frown.
“Yeah,” Ginny said distractedly. Her eyes were glued to the pages and she was flipping through them so fast her hands were a blur. “Just wanted to get started so I’ll be well-prepared, that’s all.”
She peered down at me, her icy blue eyes fixated on my muddy brown ones. “Go to bed. We have a big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I mumbled, and soon I slipped away from the real world for a world of restless dreams.
For some reason, I woke up in the middle of the night.
I got my torch from under the bed and checked the time on my alarm clock. 4am.
Great.
I lay down on my pillow with my eyes open. I strained my ears, listening out for the sounds of nature. Back home there were birds that sang no matter what time it was, porcupines and rats scavenging around our trash, and crickets that performed symphonies that lulled me into slumber.
But out here there was nothing.
Great.
I couldn’t even hear my roomie. I didn’t really peg Ginny as the type who snored, but her bunk felt…empty. I peered upwards and couldn’t make out her shapeless form huddled beneath her blankets. Books were strewn all over her bunk, their pages wide open like the wings of lost paper birds.
I yawned and squeezed my eyes shut. It was too early to do anything and as Ginny said, we had a lot of things to do tomorrow.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehh!!
It sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Or rather, that of a clawed hand scraping down someone’s flesh, their hooked nails peeling off their skin in strips.
I groaned and smashed my pillow against my ears, but even my fluffy shield did nothing to muffle the loud screeches that rattled from my ears down my spine and to my toes.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehh!!
I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I wobbled out of bed, clutching the bed frame as the world spun in front of my eyes. I breathed deep as another eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhh screamed in my eardrums, making my hair stand on end.
Then I heard someone scream.
Was that Ginny? An image tore through my mind of my roommate in the corner, slowly strangled by rusty iron chains that curled around her body like venomous snakes. I know I shouldn’t open the door–it is a critical mistake made by so many horror movie heroines–but the thought of Ginny, alone, made my heart shiver.
So I yanked open the door.
There was Ginny, frozen like a popsicle stick. The shadows gathered and morphed into a hooded figure that blanketed her bodice.
Something—someone—slithered towards her, dragging behind a long blade. Eeeeeeeeeeeh
Ginny opened her mouth. Was she screaming?
But no, the silhouette brushed up against her skin and whooshed right past her, disappearing into the dorms. Ginny looked over, saw me screaming, then ran over and knocked me back in the room, locking the door shut.
“Are you okay?” she asked urgently.
I nodded a yes. Everything I felt at that moment couldn’t be put into words. It was dammed somewhere in the back of my throat, fighting to get out.
But I just couldn’t.
“What did you see?”
Nothing. Just nothing. My mind was blank. Everything was a hazy mess zooming around through my neural pathways. I sat down and rubbed my head. The room was spinning out of focus.
I needed to sleep.
“Yeah, sleep tight,” Ginny said kindly, pushing my blanket up to my neck. I curled up like a cooked prawn and breathed in deep. It smelled like home.
“Good night, Ginny,” I mumbled.
“Good night.”
We woke up to a sea of noisy chatter. It sounded like a thousand parrots squawking at the same time.
Eyes closed, mine still hazy, I stretched—and immediately bumped my head against the wooden frame.
Ow.
People were talking—no, shouting. It rang in my ears like a bloodcurdling scream. I groaned and attempted to muffle it with my pillow above my ears. Why do people have to be so goddamn loud?
Finally I gave up and sat up straight, forcing my crusty eyes open. Ginny was already gone, and her nightgown was draped across the top bunk like a country flag. The door was creaking in the wind. It slammed against the wall and came back strong.
Ow
Ginny came back. Without a word she took me by the arm and dragged me out of the room. There was a crowd mulling outside Ivy and Cleo’s dorm and as we passed I could hear snippets of their conversation:
“Dead…”
Ginny marched past them and took me down the stairs and to the mess hall, her eyes staring straight ahead like the world had vanished around her. Then she sat me down on one of the benches, took a sip of water and stared at me, her face white and shaking.
“WHAT?”
Even in the foggy haze of sleep, the bizarreness of the morning and the crowds outside the dorms were getting to me. All I had was questions, and I hated having so many questions.
For the first time since I met her, Ginny’s eyes didn’t meet mine. “So uh, you know the guy leading you around yesterday? When we first met?”
The description scratched my memory, and then I remembered. Tall and lanky, with tousled brown hair, freckles and a charming smile. He had a sunflower lanyard pinned on a checkered shirt–and that badge contained a name.
“James?”
“He…”. Ginny took a deep breath.
“He is dead. They found his body this morning.”
Ginny was still talking but I was barely listening. I only met this boy yesterday but it felt like I knew him forever. I felt like I was being pulled under, my reality torn asunder, everything that I know just…shattering around me.
Dead?
My throat was dry. Closing up. I sounded like a strangled cat.
“Yes,” Ginny confirmed dryly.
I looked at the two empty seats opposite me and that momental wave of dizziness turned into nausea.
“Bathroom,” I said.
Ginny watched me go, unblinking.
I rushed to the first unlocked toilet I found, ignoring the glares of girls already in queue. I gagged and watched my dinner and what little of my breakfast I had eaten swirl down the bowl. Then I flushed and staggered out. Everything was lit up way too bright; the chattering of students heading to their classes was way too loud; and I sat down in the corridor and closed my eyes.
I wasn’t sure how long I was out, because the next thing I knew someone was shaking me awake and helping me on my feet
“Come on,” Ivy said.
Her voice was brittle, her face pale. She was as fragile as stained glass, and she could barely walk herself. We limped together, nearly tripping over each other as we went up the stairs, until we collapsed, tangled between each other in a rope of legs.
That was when I felt something sharp brush across my cheek, drawing blood.
I looked up to see a hooded figure standing above us, wearing black gloves and a cloak made out of human skin. Her eyes were glowing crimson as she raised the sword. Rust gleamed at its sides like dew.
The sword slammed down, nearly missing Ivy’s leg.
We looked at each other, barely breathing, barely a word said between us. Then as if on command we got up and hightailed it back to our dorms. Through the shadows as we ran I could see a girl my age watching.
Her red curls shone in the dark like fire.
Ivy slammed the door behind us and shoved chairs up the edge to boot. I wasn’t sure it could hold a sword slicing through a wooden door but it would have to do.
Ivy sat on the bed and closed her eyes, whispering prayers in her native language. I didn’t feel like talking either
Author's Notes
If I remember correctly, this one is about a student who haunts the university 300ish years after her death. She is a witch, immortal and summoned by touching ruins. Her main weapon is the titular sword and instead of wielding it herself she hypnotises other students to kill for her.
The next scene is Cleo framed for killing James, the first sinister look at her powers of hypnosis.
The ending reveals that Ginny (taken from Ginerva, a romanized version of Queen Guinevre, yes me and JK Rowling had the same line of thinking) and Helena Sword is the same person and hypnotising all the other students. She dies when the narrator burns the school to the ground accidentally while trying to get away, ending the curse and resulting in the ruins at the start of the flashback.

Hey I need some help.
I’ve never experienced allergies before, so I’m kind of lost. But for the last 3 weeks I’ve stayed inside otherwise I have horribly itchy eyes and some sinus irritation. My eyes are so bad that I can’t work, they swell and hurt so bad (after I indulge and itch them).
For the last 3 weeks, I’ve never spent more than 5 minutes outside (cleaning up dog poop, bringing in the trash cans, walking into the grocery store) and i feel it every time.
I’ve been doing eye drops, benedryl, and zertec.
I’m going camping soon in a totally different scenery. I’m really hoping that my allergies won’t affect me there. But I’m really curious about GLASSES that could help me.
Does anyone have any success with eye allergies and glasses? Preferably the fashionable ones that are regular glasses with a shield on the sides? but any advice or input on that would be greatly

The episode faded back in to a shot of the Gaffers' platform being raised up to the roof by Scott, Ripper, and Chase as MK watched and Izzy walked over, wiping slime off herself.
"Uh, not to sound lazy," Scott said as he left the chain, "but I'm not feeling so good."
"You probably just have a cold," Izzy told him.
"Since when do colds have sores like this?" Scott followed up as he lifted his right arm and pointed to a round, reddish-brown spot on his elbow.
Izzy looked at him attentively and put her hand on his forehead. "Your body temperature is high, but it's possible that-" she was interrupted by a sudden burp from her teammate that caused her to cringe and take a step back. "Why does your breath smell like lemons?"
"Are you trashing my burps?" Scott asked in confusion.
"Hold on," Justin interrupted as the camera cut to him. "Red sores, fever, lemony burps? Aren't those symptoms of one of the diseases in the book?"
"Page 753," Millie exclaimed. "Mortatistical Crumples Disease!" She gasped. "And it's fatal!"
Everyone gasped. "Mortatistical Crumples is also highly contagious!" MK added, eliciting another gasp from most of the cast.
"Okay, looks like it's quarantine time!" Chris said, backing towards the door with barely-hidden panic. "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!" He gave them a quick wave, then dashed out the double door between the two vats. Both teams went over to it with shock on their faces as the sounds of power tools were heard on the other side.
The camera cut to Chris as he pounded a nail in with a hammer. It was one of many holding up a red banner with an orange skull-and-crossbones on it, set over several long pieces of wood that had been nailed up to bar the exit. "There's more to this disease than either team knows," he told the camera with an impish grin before walking away with a dark chuckle.
Another shot of the numbered studios was shown. "Hold on," Anne Maria spoke up as the shot cut back to the ten castmates in the challenge set. "How did Dirt Boy catch a fatal disease?"
“I'm sure it's just a twenty-four hour kind of fatal,” Scott hoped.
"We have to quarantine Scott! Stat!" Izzy said in a panic.
The camera showed Ripper furiously inflating a plastic bubble with a bicycle pump; the bubble had a yellow-and-black biohazard symbol on it. "Get inside now!" the bully shouted before Scott threw himself head-first into the bubble.
"Oh no!" Jasmine cried. "Brick has a sore too!" She pointed at the soldier boy's upper left arm, who took one look at the sore and began to wave his arm in a panic.
"It has to be a mistake!" Brick exclaimed.
"Hey!" Scott exclaimed from inside his bubble, another one getting inflated nearby. "Is there an exit to this thing?"
"There isn't one!" Ripper shouted as he continued to pump and Brick got into his bubble.
"Why didn't anyone tell me that before I jumped in?!" Scott griped.
“Okay, everyone just calm down!" Chase said.
"Agreed," Jasmine spoke up sternly. "We should make sure no one else is infected. Symptoms of Mortotistico Crumple's Disease include explosive diarrhea..."
"Oh no!" The camera cut to Chase as his bowels began to groan and he ran into a nearby portable toilet with a panicked look on his face.
"Itchy lips," Jasmine continued as the shot cut to Justin, who suddenly bit his lip.
"My… my lips," he moaned. "They're on fire!" He began to frantically rub and scratch at them, leaving them swollen and red.
"Sudden hot flashes," Jasmine listed off as MK began to sweat profusely and tug at her jacket. "Sea sickness," Ripper turned green and vomited. "Speaking in tongues," Izzy was the next to be affected as she babbled incoherently and indistinguishably with her eyes rolling upwards, which continued even as Jasmine listed the final symptom, "and temporary blindness."
"Everyone can see, right?" Jasmine asked as she checked over the castmates’ current states. "That's good to know," she said in relief before walking forward and bumping straight into Brick's bubble. "Oh no," she said in newfound panic. "I'm the one who's blind!"
Confessional: Anne Maria
"I know this is a reality show," Anne Maria told the confessional camera in a serious tone, "but I doubt that Chris would allow us to actually die on national television!"
Confessional Ends
The scene cut to Chris himself watching from his control room, leaning back in his chair with his legs propped up on the desk in front of him. "You'd think we wouldn't," he told the camera, "but, just imagine the ratings!"
Back in the quarantined set, the camera panned across the room to show that everyone except for Anne Maria, Millie, and the bubbled Brick and Scott were now laying on top of stretchers, groaning and moaning.
“This is super bad,” Millie said. “We have to do something.”
“Do you mean taking their temperatures, because we only have rectal thermometers, and I'm not in the mood to joke around with them,” Anne Maria responded.
“I wasn't even thinking about that at all,” Millie stated. “Joking with diseases is not funny at all.”
“Obviously, but have you noticed we're the only ones who didn't take part in the studying all-nighter, and we're the only ones who haven't been infected?” Anne Maria asked while looking over everybody.
“I'm not so sure about this supposed disease,” Millie mused. “We need to get our hands on one of those textbooks. There has to be something they missed.”
“I’d do it if Chris didn’t seal off the only exit,” Anne Maria argued.
"There’s another exit over there," Millie pointed to the Grips' platform, which was now sitting on the floor empty of body parts. The chain still led up to a hole in the ceiling where the reel was situated.
"Oh yeah. How in the world did I not notice that?" Anne Maria droned sarcastically before the two made a dash for the platform.
"I still haven’t forgotten you pushing me off the diving board a few days ago, so don’t think I’m scared of pulling the platform as high as possible," Millie informed as they stepped onto the platform and pulled down on the chain, making them ascend.
The footage flashed forward to the outside of the studio as the two girls jumped down from a ladder on the wall of the building. “You grab a textbook, I'll look in the kitchen,” Millie instructed before they split off in opposite directions.
Confessional: Millie
"I really hope that the disease is fake," Millie explained in the make-up trailer. "There were some diagnoses and symptoms in the textbook that I've never heard of before, but I've studied a lot about diseases to be familiar with a selective few."
Confessional Ends
Back inside, Scott was shown to be rolling around in his bubble. "How long has it been since I got in this bubble?" he groaned.
"I don't want to hold onto my bladder for more than an hour!" Brick cried while covering his groin with both hands.
"My lips," Justin groaned on his stretcher. "Of all places, why my lips?"
"I'd kiss them to make you feel better, but I'm not a princess and you are not a frog," MK said, sitting up on the stretcher next to him; Jasmine and Chase were visible in a row behind them. "And even then, I am not an animal kisser."
Ripper was sitting against one of the walls, writing something on a piece of paper with a bucket of vomit next to him. “To my parents; don't let my brothers keep the money I've taken from weaklings in the past.” He paused to throw up into his bucket before writing again. “To my brothers; don't even think about stealing my stash from me, especially you, Wolfgang! From your best son, Richard Kennedy.”
The double doors between the vats were thrown open by Millie and Anne Maria. The camera pulled out as the other cast members moaned, and the two young women stepped into the room – the Jersey girl holding a textbook, and the author with some kind of canister.
"Who's there?" Jasmine asked.
"Simmer down, everyone," Anne Maria said. "We're just here to expose the truth about these textbooks, which are actually bogus." She held the book she'd brought up, and easily tore the cover off it. "The book covers are just cereal boxes." Her bowels started to growl, and with a panicked look, she dropped the book and ran towards the portable toilet. "I'll be right back!"
"It can be a crock," Jasmine sat up on her stretcher. "Nobody's faking the sickness!"
“No, but it's still untrue,” Millie interjected. “I just went to Chef's kitchen, and I found this "cheese". The camera focused in on the canister in her hand as she held it up, showing that it had an image of a cheese wedge on the label.
"Uh, what is in that parmesan?" Brick wondered innocently.
"It is not cheese, but it is," Millie tore off the label to reveal a second beneath it with an image of scratching hands on it, "itching powder and laxatives!"
"Chef!" Brick muttered under his breath. "Why did he not inform me?"
It was then that Anne Maria burst back out of the portable toilet followed by a cloud of foul odor. "That explains the diarrhea and itchy lips."
"And I didn't get sick since I'm the only one who didn't eat the pizza," Millie added.
"What about the sores on Brick and Scott?" Chase asked.
"As for those," Millie laughed lightly, walking over to her quarantined teammate. "They're just pepperoni pieces that got stuck on you when you likely fell asleep."
Brick reached over to touch his sore, and it peeled off easily. "She's right!"
Scott also touched his own sore and it also peeled off quickly. "I was suckered! Now can somebody let me out of here now?"
"So wait," MK spoke up, "the disease is fake?"
Jasmine was the first to react, sitting up and blinking. "By golly. I'm not blind anymore!"
"And I can talk normally!" Izzy cheered.
"And I'm not gonna throw up anymore!" Ripper added. "We've been cured!"
"Could I be let out now?!" Brick pleaded. "I have some urgent business to take care of!"
"I'm comin’," Anne Maria rushed over to the bubble and simply popped it with her fingernail. Both of them winced as the bubble burst, and Brick immediately rushed over to the portable toilet.
"And don't forget about me as well!" Scott spoke up, rolling his bubble into the middle of the room.
Izzy took out a pin, popping her teammate's bubble. “This was all first year med school syndrome!” she said. “Too much studying and too little sleep can make you think you've got every disease in the book!”
"Congratulations, Killer Grips!" the voice of Chris McLean came suddenly, the camera pulling out to show the host descending from the ceiling on another chain. "You just won the challenge!"
The five Grips began to cheer and celebrate. "Brilliant diagnostic skills, Anne Maria and Millie. Way to suss it out. And, for your reward," Chris continued, frowning and looking down at his empty hands. "Knew I forgot something. Just a sec!" he said before stepping back onto the chain's foothold and raising back out of the room.
Confessional: Anne Maria
"This challenge was certainly… something," Anne Maria confessed. "I can't believe that I had to play the role of doctor just to tell everybody about the so-called disease being a lie. Who knew tainted pizza could make you have hot flashes and sea sickness?”
Confessional Ends
"One thing's for sure. I'm double checking my food from now on if I want to prevent temporary blindness or having to speak in tongues," Jasmine told the Grips as the footage cut back to them.
“Once again, the pizza was too good to be true,” Brick commented. “You made a good call not eating any slices, Millie.”
“I had no idea that there were laxatives put onto it,” Millie claimed. “If I wasn't so invested with the book, I'd probably eat the pizza and fall victim to the sickness just like you guys.”
It was then that Chris returned, descending down on the same chain as before but now carrying a covered platter. "As I was saying," he said as he walked towards the Grips, "for your reward!"
He removed the cover and the camera zoomed in on what lay beneath – five picture frames, three in back and two in front, each containing a photograph of a different person. The first on the left was a light purple cat. The second was a confident-looking Hawaiian woman with black long hair wearing a yellow tracksuit and red hoop earrings. In the middle was a teenage girl, pale with brown hair tied in a bun and a beige tank top. Fourth was a smiling white man; he had no hair, had golden dog tags around his neck, and was dressed in a dark green military outfit. And on the right end was an elderly black man with white curly hair, a white mustache covering his mouth, and a dark orange collared long-sleeved shirt.
"That's my cat Whiskers!" Jasmine said excitedly as the shot panned across the photos.
"And that's one of my girlfriends Vanessa," Anne Maria declared.
"Yup!" Chris told them. "One of you gets a whole spa night away from this cruddy studio lot, with your very best friend! So, who's the lucky stiff?"
“I'd kill for a spa day, even if it's with my mom, so how about letting me have it?” Justin smiled widely at his team.
“I have some things I want to talk about with my father,” Brick suggested.
“Now wait just a minute…” Jasmine interrupted as she, Brick, and Justin started to argue over who should get the prize.
“Can all of you shut up!!” Anne Maria ceased the fight, causing everyone to look at her. “As much as I would love to be away from this trashy film lot, I say we should let Millie have the reward.”
"Wait, me?" Millie asked in astonishment. “How come?”
"Clearly, you did the most research out of all of us, and you won the challenge for us," Anne Maria answered.
“You did say that the person who contributes the most should claim the reward,” Brick brought up.
“And with you also not eating that pizza, you've certainly earned that spa night,” Jasmine smiled.
“I don't want to be left out, so okay then,” Justin agreed with a shrug.
"Chris, the Killer Grips came to a decision," Anne Maria said before giving Millie a light shove forward.
"W-wow," Millie said softly as she began to tear up. "This is really generous!"
“Just accept the offer before I trade places with you,” Justin said.
"Eeeuuughh," Chris said in disgust. "Clean up on aisle two!" he called, and moments later, a pair of young white men in white work outfits walked through the open door, one of which carried a push broom. They disappeared off-screen for a moment, then reappeared with one pushing Millie towards the door and the other sweeping up after.
"Thank you for allowing me to take the reward!" Millie said as she allowed herself to be escorted out, wiping away her tears with her hands.
The scene cut outside as Millie walked up to the beaten-down Lame-o-sine. The door opened, and she smiled and stepped inside.
"Granddad!" the writer said happily as the shot moved inside to show her hugging the white haired old man who had been seen in one of the pictures. "I've really missed you!"
"I missed you too, Millie," the man said as he hugged his daughter. "Don't get my favorite shirt wet now. I got it dry cleaned."
"Sorry," Millie said as they broke their hug. "I have a lot to talk to you about ever since I competed in the first season."
Her grandfather smiled proudly. "Spill the details. I can tell you had a ball, but don't blame me if I start to doze off more than I do while writing best selling books."
"I'm not that boring!" Millie laughed cutely. "So it all started when I was dropped off on the dock..."
"Sheesh," Chris cringed as the scene cut to him in his control room. "Talk about a loving family! Hopefully they'll get their dullness smoothed while they're at the spa." He pulled a lever on the desk, cutting the monitor feeds to static, and stood up. "So, will the Grips' winning streak last? Or will they fall apart and lose their teamwork? Find out next time, on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Roll the Credits)
(Bonus Clip)
“That spa night was amazing!” Millie told the camera while in the trailer. “The manicures and pedicures were to die for, and the facials and mud bath really smoothened the rough parts of my skin. Granted, this spa night wasn't as fun as the two-day resort back in Camp Wawanakwa, but thankfully, I didn't have to eat any disgusting food this time, so that's an upside. Want to know something interesting? Granddad was more into the spa treatments than me, but don't tell him that I said that to you,” she added with a giggle.
Eva - 14th
Geoff - 14th
Izzy - RETURNED
Trent - 12th
Sky - 11th
Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Brick, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper, Scott