Hi,
I want my Questcape back on my HC. I finally finished getting all the requirements for Desert Treasure 2 on a second account. My HC is my main and always was (for OSRS at least). The account I leveld up now is actually my old RS3 main.
I'm planning to do the quest on both accounts parallel. First doing each boss/fight on the second account and once i'm comfortable and gained enough muscle memory switching to the main. The second account is only cb 95, so it's going to be a lot harder compared to the HC but that's a good thing imo.
I already looked into a lot of guides and stuff. But do you know of any tips or niche strategies specifically for Hardcores to minimize risk of death? Also any warnings about some dangerous stuff during the quest that maybe is overlooked or not even mentioned in guides?
E.g. im kinda scared about the Mysterious Stranger. I fear that i get into a situation where i don't have food on me and getting instantly teleblocked not being able to defend myself or escaping her. Any tips on how to be always on the safe side here?
Apart from the 4 bosses, do any of fights have a high chance of stacking me out from above >80 hp? Part of my strategy (i also used in other quest like Dragon Slayer 2) is to basically stay above 100 hp all the time if possible and tele out early if my hp gets uncomfortable.
My Internet is very stable, though i also have emergency internet via bluetooth-tethering from my phone. I will always be wearing an Escape Crystal with timer activated, probably going to set it to 4 seconds (Should be enough for PC or client crash?).
Stats and Gear
CB 122 Melee 95+, Ranged 92, Magic 95, Prayer 84. No Rigour, no Augury.
Gear:

• Most Barrows Gear, Fighter Torso
• Faceguard
• Blowpipe (with Amnestys Darts)
• Trident of the Seas
• Tentacle Whip
• Blood Fury
• Zombie Axe / Arclight - Which one is safer for Duke?
• No bofa and sadly no Dragon Warhammer (cries)
• Brews, Anglers, Super Combat Potions

I would be glad to hear anything that comes to your mind. Also links to any guides/videos you think are helpful and maybe not so well known or easy to find are welcome. I for example can't find any video of HCIMs doing DT2 on YouTube. YouTube search sucks sadly (or i am just bad at choosing the correct search terms) and only shows me low budget midlevel iron DT2 videos, which are also very helpful of course.

Hi all,
Sorry for the long post.
I'm trying to figure out whether it's my body or something is wrong with the alternative combined pill.

• BACKGROUND My first pill was Rigevidon, but it did not help much with typical teenage skin problems. My GP moved cancelled my tetracycline and moved me from Rigevidon to Yasmin.

I was happily taking Yasmin for years. The skin has cleared and there was no weight gain or water retention issues. Until I moved to a new GP and the new GP was reluctant to prescribe Yasmin. I was back on Rigevidon, but it was not agreeing with me as well as Yasmin was. I have decided to use move to alternative methods of contraception. Then, there was a pregnancy, and after the pregnancy, I decided to try an IUD. It felt uncomfortable, and the constant spotting didn't go away, so I was off it.

• DRETINE I was offered Dretine (same active ingredients as Yasmin), which I started using. At the time, it was made by a company called TEVA. I was on it for some time about the year. Theramex made the last Dretine. The first month on the new pack was uneventful, but on the second pack, while walking with a friend. I started to experience some stroke-like symptoms plus visual disturbance. The ambulance was called as I got paralysed on the left side of the body. Eventually, I was told that it was hemiplegic migraine with aura after an MRI. Bear in mind that during the incident, I had no headache or any other pain.

There was no follow-up from the GP. I carried on taking Dretine. The following month (March), around the same time, I had a lighter version of the episode, but it subsided after rest. Nothing next month. Then, in May, I had an episode again. I do not remember why, but I thought that it might be related to the pill. The events were reoccurring around pills 14-16.
I have been on Depo for two years, followed by Sayana Press for less than a year. I gained a lot of weight in the process, and I feel tired and angry all the time as all I want to do is sleep. Now I know about the risk of osteoporosis, and I would like to move from this contraceptive.
I felt great about Yasmin, and I would like to restart it, but what are my chances of getting this migraine with aura again? Was it just unlucky with the batch of Dretine made by Theramex?
Thank you for your comments in advance.

It has taken me more than 8 years to finally feel comfortable and confident to post a review about Gavin Chan. In 2015 I went to the Victorian Cosmetic Institute & was talked into having 4mls of filler injected into my cheeks & nasolabial folds to lift my cheeks by self appointed “cosmetic medicine specialist” Dr Somaiye Kadivar. I was told that the filler was temporary & would last anywhere between 12-18 months.
Once the procedure was over I looked in the mirror & noticed one cheek was higher while the other cheek was lower & further out from my nose. My nasolabial folds were arched, crooked, unnatural & everytime I smiled my cheeks would pop out like golf balls. I hated the results because the filler added volume instead of a lift like I was led to believe.
Just the thought of what I would have looked like if I had gone ahead with the 12 month "alternative treatment plan" devised by the “cosmetic medicine specialist" Dr Somaiye Kadivar who recommended 12mls of filler costing me over $9,000 and 60 units of Botox every 3 months for $720 per treatment gives me nightmares.
Soon after I contacted the owner of the Victorian Cosmetic Institute Gavin Chan and complained about the botched filler. He assured me it was easily & instantly reversible by injecting Hyaluronidase which is used off label to dissolve fillers. After several attempts over the coming days & weeks it was quite obvious that the filler was still present.
On one occasion Gavin Chan dissolved my tear troughs via the cheeks yet I never had filler in my tear troughs to begin with. On another occasion while injecting Hyaluronidase he also started to inject filler into my temple without prior warning. When I asked him why he was injecting my temple he told me he was compensating me for my troubles yet never mentioned that the temple is a danger zone & a risky area to inject.
In total I had 6mls of filler injected into my face within 19 days, yet on the Victorian Cosmetic Institute's website it states that 1ml of filler is enough for the entire face. On each occasion Gavin Chan never informed me of the risks, dangers & complications associated with Hyaluronidase & never gave me a consent form to read and sign.
A few years later I had a consultation with Professor Mark Ashton who is an expert in filler complications & he told me that if the filler hadn't dissolved by now then it was permanent. He gave me a referral for an MRI of the head which detects the exact amount of filler & the exact location of the filler. The MRI report stated that I still had upto 4mls of filler in my face even after all the dissolving sessions from many years ago.
On Dec 3rd 2018 I showed Gavin Chan my MRI results who had no idea at the time that MRI scans can detect fillers. His recommendation was more dissolving but in a larger dose so he flooded my face with Hyaluronidase yet never recorded the amount in my clinical notes. When I went back for a follow up consultation on Dec 10th 2018 he contacted radiologist Mobin Master in my presence who also appeared not to be aware at the time that MRI’s can detect filler but suggested I get another MRI anyway.
Not long after, Gavin Chan contacted me via email thanking me for bringing the MRI information to his attention instead of thanking Professor Mark Ashton who he had previously corresponded with via email regarding my MRI results. For some unknown reason it did not occur to Gavin Chan that Professor Mark Ashton deserved all the credit for having known all along that MRI’s can detect dermal filler.
Instead Gavin Chan chose to capitalise on this information by making a YouTube video claiming he had made this discovery after doing quite a few MRI's (not sure how this is possible as he is not a radiologist). He also stated in his email that he wanted to inject a very high dose of Hyaluronidase to try and dissolve the filler again for the 5th time.
In the meantime I noticed that my facial structure had collapsed, I developed deep hollows under my eyes, my cheeks caved in, my marionette lines were deep, long & dragged down. The corners of my lips sunk into my mouth & my skin was extremely loose, saggy & stretchy all the way down to my neck.
Hyaluronidase did not dissolve my fillers but instead permanently dissolved my connective tissue as it can't distinguish between the skin's own HA & the HA in dermal fillers. Hyaluronidase has aged my facial features by 10 years & only a full facelift & necklift can fix this.
In 2019 & 2020 I took Gavin Chan to VCAT, a small claims court requesting a refund & a corrective advertising order because his website falsely advertised that the temporary fillers they use last anywhere between 12-18 months. Gavin Chan was granted lawyers on the grounds that his business reputation was at stake while I had to represent myself.
I cross examined him with over 90 questions & I presented over 100 pages of supporting evidence & documentation while he only had photos & amended clinical notes. Mobin Master was also present in court supporting Gavin Chan. The hearing was held over 2 days & my claims were eventually dismissed by the judge.
Gavin Chan who “specialises” in cosmetic procedures got away with not providing a patch test for Hyaluronidase and not providing a consent form for Hyaluronidase on each occasion amongst other things.
Mobin Master who began posting the first MRI images on his Instagram account 1 week after the first VCAT hearing in Nov 2019 now identifies as an “aesthetic radiologist” and a “world pioneer” in filler longevity.
Gavin Chan, the self appointed “doctor trainer” for various dermal fillers and anti-wrinkle injections and “cosmetic surgeon” as he once claimed to be isn’t even a GP, he is just a medical practitioner with no other formal training. His only qualification is a Bachelor of Medicine/Bachelor of Surgery with a “background in intensive care, anaesthesia and emergency medicine.
Gavin Chan who medically reviews his own articles has provided cosmetic procedures such as anti-wrinkle injections, dermal fillers, liposuction, facial fat transfers, skin needling and laser treatments since 2004 and has held advanced one-on-one injector training workshops for dermal fillers yet has no certificates or credentials listed on his Victorian Cosmetic Institute’s website.
In my opinion Gavin Chan has a special interest in portraying himself as the master of cosmetic injectables in an unregulated industry. He is an injectable junkie, obsessed with the syringe & makes no apologies for ruining my life. I hold Gavin Chan responsible for destroying my looks and my life.
In late 2023 I was threatened on 2 occasions with legal action for posting Google reviews on Gavin Chan. His lawyers instructed me to remove each review within 7 days otherwise I would be sued for defamation in the Federal Court of Australia. I wasn't even given a chance to respond to each email when my reviews were both taken down.
I have no doubt in my mind that Gavin Chan was behind the removal of my reviews. In my opinion, Gavin Chan pays a lot of money to have my reviews removed as he doesn't want anyone finding out about me and the truth about him.
I challenge Gavin Chan to explain to the general public, his patients and to his social media followers what he actually means by "background in intensive care, anaesthesia, and emergency medicine" as well as publicly display all his credentials on social media (qualifications, certificates and training) in anaesthesia, liposuction & cosmetic procedures such as cosmetic iniectables & laser treatments.
Update: In early 2024 I received further threats from Gavin Chan's lawyers for posting this Reddit review and a RealSelf review regarding my personal experience and results. “Articles medically reviewed by Dr Gavin Chan" & " Dr Gavin Chan has a background in intensive care, anaesthesia, and emergency medicine" have since been quietly removed from the Victorian Cosmetic Institute website.
If you are a cosmetic injectable victim or want to be well informed regarding what can go wrong please join BOTCHED FILLERS & HYALURONIDASE DAMAGE SUPPORT GROUP on FB.

Create a budget: Track your income and expenses to understand where your money is going. Use budgeting apps or spreadsheets to plan and control your cash flow
Save for savings: Make it a rule to set aside a portion of your income (e.g., 10-20%) for savings. Create an emergency fund to cover at least 3-6 months of expenses
Get rid of debts: Concentrate on paying off high-interest debts such as credit cards. Use the snowball or avalanche method to gradually reduce your debt
Invest wisely: Research different investment options such as stocks, bonds, real estate, and pension funds. Spread out your investments to reduce risks. Consult with financial advisors if necessary
Control your spending: Consider your spending habits and identify where you can save money. Avoid impulse purchases and learn to distinguish between needs and wants
Plan for large purchases: Plan ahead for major expenses, such as buying a car, home repairs, or vacations. Set aside separate amounts for these purposes and avoid using credit for such purchases
Learn financial literacy: Regularly read books, articles, watch webinars, and attend financial literacy courses. Understanding financial concepts will help you make more informed decisions and manage your money more effectively
By following these tips, you can manage your finances more effectively and achieve financial stability.

Hi! I've finished building my bikepacking/touring rig and turns out that the second-hand fork I bought has a minutely bent steerer, enough that it's causing headset issues every 20k or so. I am going away on the 25th and can't change those plans, so I need an emergency fork replacement. The problem is a lot of these forks have an integrated crown race which I refuse to buy as I need servicability to the highest degree, so I need an alternative. Any fork I use would need to be 1 1/8 to 1 1/2 (although wolf tooth make an adapter crown race for straight steerer forks so they could also work) and accept 700c wheels with discs. Beyond that, I'm not fussed, as I just need it to work. If you have any suggestions that'd be amazing. Thanks!

What if the Traveller IS the afterlife, like a supernatural being that souls go to when they die?
-it might go wherever the most death is in the Universe, it came to the Sol system knowing the war that was to come
-it explains why our 'GHOSTS' can bring us back
-the Veil can be used to access it. As in 'crossing the veil', it separates our world from the afterlife, but is more physical than we thought.
-Maybe it sees itself as saving us from the Darkness. Which is essentially loss and the void.
-Cayde-6 would be inside the Traveller, along with everyone we've killed
-Maybe the Witness is on a mission to get someone back, or even an entire species after they were wiped out?
Or
-Maybe the Traveller is collecting souls until it has enough to restart the Universe, that is known as 'The Final Shape'. At that point it wipes out the Universe and starts again (very Bungie), seeding it with the souls it has taken.
Perhaps the Darkness emerged as a protection from this cycle, and the Witness has seen the death of the universe many times before (explaining the name 'The Witness'). They have finally amassed enough power to take on the Traveller to try and stop the cycle of destruction and rebirth.
I could imagine the Final Shape ending with the destruction of the universe (a reboot ready for Destiny 3) but with our ghosts and guardians being protected from it by the Darkness (and maybe the sacrifice of the Witness), so we would continue the Witness's plan to take it on in the next Universe.

1. Create a budget: Track your income and expenses to understand where your money is going. Use budgeting apps or spreadsheets to plan and control your cash flow
   
2. Save for savings: Mae it a rule to set aside a portion of your income (e.g., 10-20%) for savings. Create an emergency fund to cover at least 3-6 months of expenses
   
3. Get rid of debts: Concentrate on paying off high-interest debts such as credit cards. Use the snowball or avalanche method to gradually reduce your debt
   
4. Invest wisely: Research different investment options such as stocks, bonds, real estate, and pension funds. Spread out your investments to reduce risks. Consult with financial advisors if necessary
   
5. Control your spending: Consider your spending habits and identify where you can save money. Avoid impulse purchases and learn to distinguish between needs and wants
   
6. Plan for large purchases: Plan ahead for major expenses, such as buying a car, home repairs, or vacations. Set aside separate amounts for these purposes and avoid using credit for such purchases
   
7. Learn financial literacy: Regularly read books, articles, watch webinars, and attend financial literacy courses. Understanding financial concepts will help you make better decisions and manage your money more effectively
   

What would you add to this list?

For context: I already have a few legitimate occurances due to car trouble , kidney stones and a vet emergency from about 6-8 months ago but now I’m really pushing it.
I work as a team lead/ upcoming DS at a big box store overnight. Currently I’m trying to build a better work background to get into Local LE ( call me a pig all you want 🤷🏻‍♀️). My next step from here after moving up will be working on a ambulance as an EMT until I get hired on as a recruit.
I’m one of the best performers and management likes me but my attendance hasn’t been the best due to legit past issues and now I’m gonna be on super thin ice possibly canned. I was late 2 minutes Tuesday (half a occurance because of traffic) and then overslept my alarm tonight so I was gonna be late again .
So I either had to call out late or call out entirely and use my sick time. Either way I get an occurance. I hope that since the lazy manager works tonight by himself he just excuses my call out in the app because it’s less paperwork.
So that’s about 7 abscenes in a year which is cause for real disciplinary action sometimes termination ( if following corporate SOP to the T)
I could’ve avoided all of this if I didn’t sleep through my 3 alarms or racked up other occurrences like an idiot but oh well
It’s impossible not to screw up even when you’re hyper focused I guess

Ginger, known scientifically as Zingiber officinale, is not only a popular spice used in cuisines around the world but also a revered medicinal herb with a long history of therapeutic use. From ancient times to modern-day wellness practices, ginger has been celebrated for its numerous health benefits. Let's delve into the wealth of goodness that ginger offers:

1. Digestive Aid:

• Ginger is renowned for its ability to alleviate digestive discomfort. It aids in digestion by stimulating saliva production and promoting the release of digestive enzymes, thereby easing indigestion, bloating, and nausea.

2. Anti-Inflammatory Properties:

• The bioactive compounds in ginger, particularly gingerol and related substances, possess potent anti-inflammatory properties. These compounds help reduce inflammation in the body, making ginger beneficial for conditions such as arthritis, muscle soreness, and inflammatory bowel diseases.

3. Nausea Relief:

• Ginger has been used for centuries as a natural remedy for nausea and vomiting. Whether caused by motion sickness, morning sickness during pregnancy, or chemotherapy, ginger has been shown to effectively alleviate nausea and provide relief.

4. Immune Booster:

• With its antimicrobial and antioxidant properties, ginger can help strengthen the immune system and fend off infections. Consuming ginger regularly may contribute to better immune function and increased resilience against common illnesses.

5. Pain Management:

• Studies have demonstrated that ginger may be as effective as conventional pain medications in alleviating various types of pain, including menstrual cramps, migraines, and osteoarthritis. Its analgesic properties make it a valuable natural remedy for pain management.

6. Cardiovascular Support:

• Ginger promotes heart health by lowering blood pressure, reducing cholesterol levels, and preventing blood clot formation. Regular consumption of ginger may help reduce the risk of heart disease and improve overall cardiovascular function.

7. Anti-Cancer Potential:

• Emerging research suggests that ginger may possess anti-cancer properties, with studies showing its ability to inhibit the growth and spread of cancer cells, particularly in cancers of the colon, ovaries, and lungs. While more research is needed, ginger holds promise as a potential adjunctive therapy in cancer prevention and treatment.

8. Brain Health:

• The neuroprotective effects of ginger extend to brain health, with studies suggesting that its anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties may help protect against age-related cognitive decline and neurodegenerative diseases like Alzheimer's.

Conclusion:

From soothing digestive woes to boosting immunity and fighting inflammation, ginger stands as a versatile and potent ally in promoting overall health and well-being. Whether enjoyed in culinary creations, brewed into tea, or taken in supplement form, incorporating ginger into your daily routine can be a simple yet powerful step towards better health.
Make ginger a part of your wellness regimen and experience firsthand the remarkable benefits this humble herb has to offer.

Xue Feng Though the modern medicine has limited knowledge of human bodies, what we have known is enough for us to admire the excellent human body structure and functions. Each system and organ in the human body is designed by the Greatest Creator. Even those trivial body parts have great functions. For example, there are several types of hairs on human bodies with distinct forms and functions. The head hair is designed to protect and beautify the head. It can grow long. According to the Bible, “But if a woman has long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.” The eyebrows can divert sweat and rain, preventing them into the eyes. That’s why they are lined above the two eyes. Eyelashes can prevent the dust and other things from entering the eyes. That’s why they are lined on the sides of the eyelids. Also they stand forward in a special curve because it wouldn’t hinder the eyesight or pierce into the eyes when closing the eyes. If the eyebrows and eyelashes are too long, they will hinder the eyesight. That’s why they wouldn’t grow as long as the hair or beards. The nasal hairs can filter the inhaled air. That’s why they grow inside the nostril and stand sideways and outwards. If they stand inwards, the other things will find it easy to come into the nostrils and difficult to go out. The armpit hairs can prevent the partial friction and help the sweat evaporate. Without the armpit hairs, we have to raise our arms. Otherwise the skin under the arm will become inflamed because of the friction and moist. Required by the function, the armpit hairs cannot grow as long as the head hairs, or as short as the eyebrows. Besides, they are soft and curving. If they are rigid and coarse, they will hurt the skin. And cilia grow on the intestinal epithelium. The cilia grow downward and vibrate together. The vibrating waves move downward from upward to help move down the intestinal contents. Cilia also grow on the airway and bronchus epithelium. However, they grow and vibrate in the opposite direction as those on the intestinal epithelium. Only in this way can they move the sputum upward to the throat and spit them. If they grow downward, the airway and bronchus would get stuck by the sputum and the humans would die from it. Now I wish to take two simple reflections of human bodies as an example. When foreign matters enter the nostrils or airways, they will arouse two protective reflections, sneeze or cough, which is designed to repel the foreign matters. But due to different situation, these two reflections differ in their approaches. The foreign matters in the nostrils are not urgent so the sneeze reflection can be prepared in a composed way. First, inhale slowly; open the mouth, and the soft place move upward to block the nostril. Then breathe in enough air through the mouth, and the pleural body contracts sharply to emit the air in the lungs quickly. When the emitting reaches its peak, the tongue rises abruptly to block the mouth to repel the air to go out swiftly through the nostrils. In this way the foreign matters in the nostrils are driven out. However, if the foreign matters enter the airway, it is an emergent situation. If the foreign matters are not driven out timely, the life will be put at risk. The inhaling is strictly forbidden because it will make the foreign matters go deeper and cause suffocation. So the cough doesn’t include the inhaling. Instead, the glottis closes immediately. At the same time, the pleural body contracts suddenly and adds the lung air pressure extremely. When the pressure is at its strongest point, the glottis opens suddenly and the lung air sends out explosively, compelling the foreign matters in the airway to the throat via the glottis. At this time, the soft place rises to block the nostrils. The foreign matters are spit out through the mouth. If the tongue and the soft place perform the same way as in the sneeze, the foreign matters emitted out of the airway will enter the nostrils, causing another trouble. In these two reflections, the body parts must cooperate closely. Any failure in the coordination will lead to the failure of the reflection, causing serious consequences. So these activities are not done freely. Instead, they are done as required by their functions and set procedures. These procedures are not learnt or practices. The program has been rooted in our brain nerve structure (nerve nucleus) when we are born. Otherwise, the babies will not survive. The advanced computer science has made it possible to simulate these activities. However, the simulation requires 3 conditions: 1. Device simulating the inhale and exhaling of human mouth, nose, throat, pleural and the sensing device; 2. The central control equipment simulating nerves and body system (compute, input and output devices). The above two devices are hardware. And software is also needed, namely (3). A program composed in strict compliance with the requirements to control the performance and procedure of each link, and arrange them in perfect coordination. All the three conditions are imperative. Otherwise the reflections can’t be realized. The program itself is not a substance structure. Instead, it is a smart use and spiritual result. There will be no such a thing as the program without the smart use. So we have to ask, the program is composed by the humans and stored in the computer, how about the control program in the human brain. Is it also composed by someone and stored in the human brain? Sneeze and cough are the simplest examples. There are numerous automatically controlled physical, bio-chemical and pathological human body activities, which are even more sophisticated than reflections of cough. Even today, some of them remain mysteries to us. So how are these sophisticated control programs composed? And where do they come from? Now let’s have a look at the sensory organs on human bodies. Why do we have two ears? The reason is that one ear is not able to identify the direction. With the ears lying on two sides of the head, the sound reaches the ears in sequence of time. Based on the slight receiving time difference, the brain can judge where the sound comes from. The auricle is the most outward component of the ear. It can introduce the sound into the external auditory canal. Within the auricle there is a thin layer of cartilage helping to retain the form of auricle, giving it wonderful elasticity and protecting it from the clashes. Without the cartilage, the auricle is just two useless pieces of skin hanging on the head side. If the thin bone is inside the auricle, it will break easily even if when you are sleeping on your side, damaging the auricle. There is fuzz on the outer segment of the external auditory canal preventing the sand and dust. The inner segment secretes cerumen to prevent insects. When foreign matters enter the external auditory canal, it will trigger head shaking, instead of sneeze or cough, to get the matters out. Because the external auditory canal is a blind passage, it is impossible to repel the foreign matters with air. Why don’t the foreign matters in the nostrils arouse the head-shaking reflection to repel them? That’s because the nostrils of humans almost lie in the middle of the head. The shaking is not able to produce enough centrifugal force. Besides, the human nostrils face downward and it is improper to repel the foreign matters by shaking the head. The sound is produced by the mechanical vibration of objects and is transmitted by the air fluctuation, or the sound waves. The human ears are actually working like a precise mechanical vibration monitor. In the inner ear there are a number of keyboards with different sizes, producing nerve impulses produced by echoing with corresponding frequencies. The brain, in accordance with the features of these impulses, identifies the strength, tunes and timbre of the sounds. We must note though there are many sensory organs in human bodies, only the inner ear is protected by the most solid and firm bones. In fact, it lies in the cave part of the temporal bone. Of all the sensory organs, only the ears monitor the mechanical vibration, which needs a relatively fixed position. Otherwise, it is not able to monitor the sound. If the inner ear lies in the soft tissues, when the sound wave arrives, the inner ear will vibrate with it. Thus it can hear nothing. Now the inner ear lies in the firm bone and it can’t sense the air vibration. So it is imperative to reduce the density waves to the mechanical vibrations before sending them to the inner ear. And there is such a reduction device at the middle bottom of the external auditory canal, which is called the eardrum. The eardrum has enough space to receive the air pressure. It is thin enough to vibrate when the sound wave arrives. Meanwhile, the eardrum is strong enough to push the transmission device. The long handle of the middle ear cartilage is attached to its inner side, the tensile force of which makes the eardrum sink inside slightly to maintain certain tension. This allows the eardrum to accurately reduce the arriving sound waves into the mechanical vibrations. No matter what the temperature is, the vibration function is not impacted. After the sound waves are reduced into the mechanical vibration, some rigid objects are needed to transmit the vibration to the inner ear. Of all body tissues, the most rigid objects are the bones. However, the bones are heavy in general and covered by the soft tissues, which are not suitable for the audio vibration. However, in the tympanic cavity between the eardrum and the inner ear, there are three unique tiny bones with delicate forms measured in millimeters. They are almost completely exposed to the air in the tympanic cavity. These three tiny bones are connected by ligament and form a transmission chain in curve with excellent audio vibration function, able to transmit accurately the vibration of the eardrum to the inner ear. The transmission device can properly multiply the weak vibration and reduce the strong sound wave. All of these structures are the super designs required by the acoustics. There are even smarter designs in the hearing organ. For example, to make the eardrum vibrate freely following the arriving sound waves, the two sides of the eardrums must be exposed to the air. As a result, there is a tympanic cavity full of air in the middle ear. If the cavity is filled by liquids, just as other cavities are, the eardrum is not able to vibrate because the liquids can’t contract. Besides, the cavity does not only need to be filled with air, but also needs to be connected to the outside world with a proper passage, to balance the static air pressure in the cavity with the outside air pressure. Otherwise, the air in the cavity will gradually be absorbed, causing the eardrum to sink excessively or damaging it. When the outside air pressure changes, (such as in mountain climbing, diving, the airplane takeoff or climate change), it will arouse uncomfortable feelings or lead to hearing malfunction. But the middle ear can’t be opened to the outside world directly, just like the external auditory canal or nostrils can. The reason is that the direct exposure will make the arriving waving sound reach the two sides of the eardrums at the same time via the external auditory canal and middle ear passage, counteracting the sound pressure. Thus the eardrums will not vibrate at all, unable to produce the hearing. So it is a difficult problem to connect the middle ear and the outside world. However, the human body, with a smart design, solves this problem. The middle ear is opened at the two sides in the upper rear of the pharynx via a half-opened passage (the so-called auditory tube). The auditory tube is locked in common times and only opened temporarily when taking the swallowing actions, balancing the air pressure in the middle ear shortly. After the swallowing action is over, the auditory tube is locked again. Apart from eating, human body would regularly take swallowing action unconsciously, even when he or she is sleeping. Thus the air pressure in the middle ear can be adjusted from time to time and avoid the hearing from being hindered. Besides, when swallowing, the swallowing segment and the soft palate will definitely rise, blocking the mouth and nostrils against the outside world. So on the moment when the ear and throat are opened shortly, though the air in the throat can enter the middle ear, the sound waves from the outside world are blocked against the middle ear. As a result, the hearing will not be interfered and can receive the outside sound and voice. Only the throat in the body can meet the special demand of the hearing organs. The throat is originally designed as part of the digestion and breathing system, it does not belong to sensory system. However, it can cooperate so smartly with the hearing organs. We have to admire the extremely delicate body-wise design. The vestibule in the inner ear controls the balance of the body. In the vestibule there are 3 semicircular canals. When the body loses balance, the mutually-vertical semicircular canals produce the balance impulse, which triggers the corresponding reflection via the balance center in the medulla brain. Why are there 3 semicircular canals instead of 2 or 4? And why are they mutually vertical? The reason is apparent. Humans live in the 3-dimensional space. There are 3 mutually-vertical movement directions, namely, front and rear, left and right, upward and downward. So the 3 mutually-vertical semicircular canals can monitor the movements. The number less than 3 or more than 3 would be insufficient or redundant. We can see the delicate and smart structure and function, and the supreme wisdom in them. They can’t be the accidental results. As the most important perception of human bodies, vision provides more information than that provided by all other perceptions. The vision is the perception of image and space and the visual organs must have the most precise and accurate structure completely different from other sensory organs. As a result, in the perspective of the embryo-genesis or neuro-anatomy, the main structure of the eyes is not just the common receptor. Instead, it is part of the cerebral cortex. The so-called optic nerves are completely different from other cerebrospinal nerves. In essence, the optic nerves are inner structure in the brain, transmitting the most sophisticated visual information. The eyes function like a precise camera. The retina composed of the photoreceptor cells is just like the films. The crystal, iris and the cornea works like the lens, diaphragm and the filter. However, the precision and automatic adjustment of the eyes is no match of any high-quality cameras. For example, the lens in modern cameras is made of special glass or hard plastics with fixed focal distance. When taking pictures for the landscapes with different distances, the lens position must be adjusted. Otherwise, the image will not be produced on the films. But this is an awkward approach. Imagine when the eyes are watching landscapes with different distances, the eyeballs have to protrude or recess alternatively, which looks ugly or damages the health and function of the eyes. However, the crystal in the eyes are transparent and elastic colloid, which can adjust automatically the focal distance in accordance with the distance of the objects to make sure all the objects can be imaged on the retina, without changing the position of the crystal. Such automatic adjustment function can’t be fulfilled by any camera. If we observe the eyes in the perspective of modern TV technologies, the eyes are more like the television camera, but thousands of times more precise than the television cameras. The TV image is composed of dense pixels (the mixed dark or brilliant light spots). Till now, the best TV image only contains less than 1 million pixels. However, the human eyes can produce image containing 20 billion pixels. Only the eyes can see the details of objects. No matter how clear or accurate the image is, it is still a plan view image. Then how the eyes can provide the dimensional image is a key issue of providing the complete vision. But it is not an easy task at all to convert the flat view image into the dimensional one. For a long time, people have been puzzled by how the conversion is done. Of course, we later knew the smartness and delicacy of the human body shown here. The two eyes send the flat view images they receive into the same nerve center, which contrasts and analyzes the images and judges the distance of the objects based on the slight visual angle difference caused by the position difference of the two eyes. Thus the dimensional image is produced. That’s why people have to have 2 eyes to establish the complete vision. Based on such understanding, humans have invented the dimensional movies. But the above is only the external process of how vision is formed. People have little knowledge about how the visual center works inside. We have to admit that the mysteries of human body structure and functions are beyond the intelligence of mankind. As a matter of fact, the distance judgment with two eyes is the triangulation technique which is precise and automatic. The accurate measurement needs two premises. First, the two eyes must focus on one object at the same time. Otherwise, there will be double vision, which means the one objects will be seen as two objects. As a result, the complete neuromuscular system is equipped on the outside of the eyeballs, making the eyeballs the most flexible and accurate organs. The ciliary muscle inside the eyeballs can adjust the conversion rate of the crystal at any time to focus on the object and form the clearest image. Second, the retina of the two eyes must be strictly symmetrical. Otherwise, the image contrast of the two eyes will become impossible. Furthermore, the images received by the two eyes must be transmitted at the same time to the same visual center for contrast and analysis. There are two visual nerves on the left and right side of the brain, supervising respectively the two sides of the vision field. The objects in the left of the vision field are reflected, via the eye pupil, on the retina of the right sides of the two eyeballs. The corresponding images in the two eyes, via the visual nerve, are sent to the visual center on the right side of the brain. The objects in the right of the vision field are reflected, via the eye pupil, on the retina of the left sides of the two eyeballs. The corresponding images in the two eyes, via the visual nerve, are sent to the visual center on the left side of the brain. The two visual nerves contrast the corresponding images coming from the eyes and produce the full-field dimensional images. The pairs of human parts are often symmetrical on the outside. Only the retinas are symmetrical in the same position. Namely, the left side is symmetrical to the left side and the right side symmetrical to the right side of the two retinas. That’s because the light rays come in directly. Otherwise, the visual centers can’t receive the corresponding images or get the coordinated vision. The structural symmetry of the retinas in the two eyes must be accurate to the utmost. Otherwise the images in the two eyes will not comply with each other and the ambiguity will occur. Besides, the corresponding images from the two eyes must be sent to the same visual center. Thus the optic nerves must have the corresponding special structure to realize the cross-transmission of the images. This is the unique “chiasma opticum” unique to the optic nerves. This function is not possessed by any other nervus cerebrospinalis because they don’t handle the information of images and space. If we use the computers and monitoring cameras to simulate the process of human vision, the input network of the computers has to have a similar chiasm. No other design can do it. Judging from the above, we can find all the human organs, structures and functions have shown the supreme wisdom. And these are the ways they should be. Some people think that human body has some useless organs, such as the thymus gland, appendix, tonsil and coccyx, in order to prove the human structure is imperfect. Some people used to believe that these organs were not that useful. Instead, they tend to arouse diseases such as appendicitis and tonsillitis. If these organs are cut off, it will not have much impact on the human body. In the past, people used to classify spleens and other organs into the useless organs. There was a list of useless organs in the past which included over 100 organs. But the list was long not because these organs are useless but because people at the time were ignorant. As more we know about the organs, most of them have been deleted from the list and there are only a few still remain in the list. Some people think that these organs are the leftovers of human evolution, which are called the “waste back organs” and use them as one of the evidences of evolution theory. This is a complete misunderstanding. Till not we have understood there are no such things as the “obsolescent organs”. It is simply the lack of knowledge of these organs. Take the thymus gland as an example. In the past, people didn’t know its function. Now we have understood it is the warning device of the human body against the inner and outer infection sources. As a result, the thymus gland contributes a lot to the human health. Another example, if the coccyx fractures, it will cause serious functional disturbance. So the coccyx is also an imperative part of human body. Some people might say these organs can trigger diseases. Then all human organs can lead to diseases, even brain and heart are of no exceptions. Why don’t we say the brain and heart are useless? Some organs, though they are not as important as the heart and brain and wouldn’t endanger life immediately when eliminated, are also useful. Just like if the hands or feet are lost, though not fatal, the human body is handicapped. After knowing the supreme and smart design of human structures and functions, you might want to know how they come into being. Who has designed and made such sophisticated and precise organs? We cannot avoid the question. Any truth-seeking person would admit that the extremely delicate organs and structures are not produced naturally or accidently. For instance, if someone gives you a top-class camera and tells you it is a natural one without designer or manufacturer; do you think his words are scientific and acceptable? The human body, which is even more delicate, accurate, flexible and practical, must have a supremely wise and capable creator behind it. On a spring Sunday morning in 1954, I saw a young stranger sitting in the chamber of a Church. When we started to talk, I knew that he was a student at Peking Union Medical College. He said to me, “Since I studied anatomy and physiology, I have felt the human body is really a wonder. It is not possible to understand it unless we interpret the wonder with a God.” He came to the church to seek an answer. The wonder of this young man is not the only example. I remember that when I was studying anatomy and physiology in school, some students surrounded our physiology teacher and kept asking him questions. Finally, the teacher, annoyed by so many questions, told us, “Please stop the questions because they will lead to religion in the end.” Because of the special political background at the time, the teacher’s warning silenced all the students. But his warning impressed me deeply and remained in my memory till today. My thought at that time was that the teacher was right because all the things were created by the God. Though he was not a Christian, he had to admit the truth and the further probe into the human body mysteries (part of the Universe mysteries) would definitely lead to the existence of the God (religion) in the end. Otherwise, it would be impossible to explain the wonders of the human body. The Bible says, “For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse.”(1:20 Romans 1) Was the teacher demonstrating his scientific spirit? No. The scientific spirit means the truth and boldly pursuit of the truth without avoiding any controversy. The teacher knew very clearly that one more step forward would lead to the God but he dared not move onto the path towards the truth. Instead, he asked his students to stop there. It has shown that many people refuse to admit the existence of God not because they don’t have the scientific spirit but because of the social pressure, individual consideration for their interest and prospect, just as what the teacher was doing at that time. Nevertheless, the existence of the God would not change. And we cannot live in such considerations for the reality forever. One day in the future, when we have to face the ultimate choice, we will have to face the supreme master who has created the Universe and the human beings. The Bible says, “And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment.” If we don’t accept the immoral God now, we have no excuse when it comes to the day. When we talk about the origin of all things in the Universe, some young people often ask, “You have said the humans are created by the God, then who has created the God?” The analogizing logics seem to be reasonable. But it is not true. Because the God is the creator instead of the created, you can’t link these together. The table is made by the carpenter. But you cannot say the carpenter and the table have the same origin. Human benings’ understand of the God is only limited to the enlightenment from the God to the humans. Otherwise, humans cannot understand the mystery of God’s nature. The God says, “I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.” (Exodus 3:14 and Revelation 1:8). For the God, there is only the eternality, and there is no time, beginning or ending. Even in the scientific field, too many analogizing questions won’t be tolerated. One scholar was talking about the belief in the God with his students. One student asked suddenly and proudly, “Where does the Universe come from?” The scholar answers, “The Universe is created by the God.” The student continued to ask, “Who has created the God?” The scholar answered, “The God is Alpha and Omega and I am not created.” The student said, “This is not scientific at all.” The scholar then asked the student, “Where does the Earth come from?” The student answered, “The Earth comes from the Sun.” The scholar continued to ask, “Where does the Sun come from?” The student answered, “The Sun comes from the Galaxy.” The scholar asked again, “Where does the Galaxy come from?” The student hesitated and answered, “The Galaxy comes from the nature.” The scholar continued to ask, “Where does the nature come from?” The student couldn’t answer this question and said in anger, “The nature is the nature and comes naturally.” The scholar then laughed, “This is not scientific at all.” So we can conclude that the “scientific” answers are not scientific. Another example is that the sciences tell people that substances are composed of the molecules. Then what are the molecules composed of? The molecules are composed of the atoms. But what are the atoms composed of? They are composed of the electrons, protons and neutrons. Then what are the electrons, protons and neutrons composed of? Till now, we cannot find an answer to this question. The atomic physicists are now working hard to find the “elementary particle”. They are called “basic particles” because the scientists don’t expect the substances to be divided limitlessly. So they believe that one day they will find the ultimate component, the “elementary particle”. Of course, the scientists will not ask such question of “what is something composed of?” This is the extremity and everything ends here. The materialists claim that the Universe is limitless and that the materials are eternal and can be divided limitlessly, etc. They are simply the groundless conclusion of the philosophers. And there is an extremity in their logics, the materials. They say that the materials are Alpha and Omega but can’t tell where the materials come from. Now let’s have a look at the math. All numbers come from 1, followed by 2, 3…. You can’t ask what the 1 is because 1 is 1, and not other numbers. It means that 1 is the origin of all numbers. The Greatest Creator has created all things and the Greatest Creator is the origin of them. It will be meaningless to ask where the Greatest Creator comes from.

I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

MD
Hi everyone, first time posting here and I’m very stressed out about this situation so please excuse my typos. A bit of background: I moved into my apartment back in December and didn’t need to a/c until very recently. However, when I first turned on my a/c it made this awful metal grinding noise before being actually kicking in. Then it would cause power outage to the point where I’d have to call maintenance to come reset my breaker as it would not come back on by itself. Maintenance fixed the grinding sound but the power would still go out and I still had to call them and reset it.
I submitted a few work orders and just decided not to use a/c until they sent someone out to fix whatever the problem was for the which was for the majority of the past month. My gas usage has not varied in any other way except for the fact that I was not using heat or a/c. Then one day it unbearably hot so I decided to finally try and use my a/c again around 8pm at night and my power cut off 30 minutes later. Emergency maintenance turned it back on and advised me not use a/c until they could take a look the next day. I submitted another work order
The next day they determined that my a/c would need to be replaced entirely and installed a box fan in the meantime. Now I’ll admit, I’ve never use one of them before but I figured I should cut it off when I didn’t need it and not make it produce low temperature so I wouldn’t have excessive usage. I only had the box fan for 8 days, and the other ways I used gas (cooking, showering, etc) stayed the same.
I went to check my gas bill a few minutes ago and it that it was almost 2k, and to say I was floored was an understatement. For reference, my gas bill during the wintertime where I consistently had the heat on would never be above 150$. And this past month I was without a/c and obviously not using heat for the majority of the month.
Is there any chance I could get any recourse from my landlord or the gas company? Should i contact my apartment complex first or the gas company? I can’t afford to pay both rent and this gas bill and I just feel so helpless right now.
PS: Sorry for the long post, this is my first solo apartment and it has been one thing after another and im reaching my breaking point

This song is the song where I have the most issue with when it comes to the fans' interpretation of it. Their biggest argument for this is the football references, but they fail to consider that the football metaphors were just a way for Taylor Swift to draw parallels between the (American) football world and her situation.
In this analysis, I'll be doing a line-by-line breakdown of why this is not a Travis Kelce song, but is instead a song that she wrote where she is directly addressing her fans, much like how "But Daddy I Love Him", and "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me" were written.
Here it goes. Please bear with me!
This happens once every few lifetimes

• Suggests a rare and significant event. Taylor's comeback after a major public backlash (Kim Kardashian's Snakegate incident) and hiatus was a unique moment in her career, and in anyone's public career, really.

These chemicals hit me like white wine

• The "chemicals" symbolize the rush of emotions and excitement, akin to the thrill she feels from reconnecting with her fans by organising the Eras Tour.
• "White wine" can imply a pleasant, intoxicating experience, like the support she gets from her fans (look up her sales and streaming charts).

What if I told you I'm back?

• The "you" here directly addresses her fans, announcing her return to the public eye after a period of "absence".
• IMO this line is not at all a shade to Joe, but directly references the line "but I come back stronger than a 90s trend" in willow.

The hospital was a drag / Worst sleep that I ever had

• This song is a direct reference to epiphany, and, on a bigger picture, the pandemic. We must remember that her plans ("Loverfest") were all cancelled thanks to Covid.
• The line also metaphorically refers to her time in "hiding" or dealing with the aftermath of the public fallout, which was a difficult and restless period.

I circled you on a map

• This is the easiest line - she always plans her tour ahead and would choose the locations that she would be performing at.
• This symbolises her plan to reconnect with her fans, targeting them, in each location, specifically as her focus upon her return to touring.

I haven't come around in so long / But I'm coming back so strong

• This line once again emphasises her "hiatus" and assures her fans of her strong comeback.

So when I touch down / Call the amateurs and / Cut 'em from the team / Ditch the clowns, get the crown / Baby I'm the one to beat

• "Touch down" signifies her reentry into the music industry. "Call the amateurs and cut 'em from the team" represents reclaiming her position, emphasizing that she is the top artist and dismissing those who doubted her or tried to take her place.
• "Baby I'm the one to beat" represents her thoughts that she's the one "ahead of the curve" (this is me trying). Now, couple that with her AOTY award for her albums "folklore" and "Midnights", despite the strong competition she had (SZA, Harry Styles, Dua Lipa) - no, folks, Taylor Swift is the one to beat.

Cause the sign on your heart / Said it's still reserved for me

• Indicates the unwavering loyalty of her fans who kept a place for her in their hearts despite her absence and the controversies surrounding her (in general)
• .

Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

• "Alchemy" symbolizes the magical, transformative bond.
• Taylor thinks that the bond between her and her fans is a magical one, one that withstands challenges and changes.
• The Alchemy is what makes her bejeweled.

Hey you, what if I told you we're cool? / That child's play back in school / Is forgiven under my rule

• Now, this line is where she addresses her fans directly. In this line, she is suggesting that she forgave all that drama ("child's play") back during the snakegate. (disclaimer: we know she forgives, she forgets, but she never let's it go -- so let's move on from this one lol)
• But basically, between her and the general fans, she's saying that she's 'moved past' what she thought was her fans' reaction to the the public feuds and media drama.

Now, let's move on to the bridge!
Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads / Beer sticking to the floor / Cheers chanted, cause they said

• This is where she uses the football metaphor to describe the celebratory atmosphere of her concerts, the unity, and the joy her fans experience together.

There was no chance, trying to be / The greatest in the league / Where's the trophy? / He just comes running over to me

• This line! Basically reflects on how she defied the odds and criticism to become the "greatest" with the support of her fans, symbolizing victory and recognition.
• By all means she is currently "the greatest".
  • She is, afterall, the first person in Grammy history to win album of the year four times.
  • Her name is definitely up there as one the greatest of all time, according to Billboard.
  • There's more but I mean, it's like repeating the same points basically.

These blokes warm the benches / We been on a winning streak

• In this line, she is trying to say that everyone else are just warming the benches, while she's the one who's been out there on a winning streak with folklore, midnights, and the eras tour.
• Her usage of "we" here indicates not only "her", but everyone involved, including her fans. This reinforces the alchemy that she has with her fans, and that all of this is a mutual success, i.e. she would not be here without the support of her fans.

He jokes that it's heroin but this time with an "E" / Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me

• This line is a controversial line, because of her usage of the word "he". Now, who is "he"? Is it Travis Kelce? Or could it be Matty Healy, considering his history with the pills? In this song, this actually does not matter. Why?
  • The point of this line is to symbolise the feeling she feels when she's performing, bejeweled, in glittery skirts, and the feeling insider of her when her fans giving her a standing ovation. To her, this feeling is euphoric. It's like taking heroin.
  • Because she is a female artist, she feels like a heroine in her show. Everyone pays attention to her, and only her. As with all heroines in movies (specifically, those movies with no heroes).
  • Combining both together, "Heroin with an 'E'" signifies as a powerful, euphoric connection (her and her fans) that's not destructive (unlike Heroin), but rather, a positive, euphoric, and uplifting feeling.
• Again, the "sign on your heart" symbolizes fans' loyalty.

and finally, this line....

• Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me.
  • Before I do a deep dive on this, let's establish the definition of the "trophy". The "trophy" symbolizes ultimate success, victory, or recognition in a competitive field.
  • This line is a rhetorical question. There is no actual "trophy". Taylor Swift is the trophy.
  • Any dudes dating her should recognise that. That she's the trophy.

Addressing the (American) football references in this song:

As mentioned before, the football references in this song are simply metaphors to help illustrate the themes of competition, triumph, and teamwork.

• "So when I touch down"
  
  • While "Touchdown" is a direct reference to scoring in American football, it also, in a literal sense, means refers to when she has landed in her private jet. At this point, we all already know about her and her private jet "news" - I do not need to elaborate on this.
  • "Touching down" symbolizes a notable return after her hiatus and public controversies, Taylor Swift’s "touch down" represents her re-emergence into the public eye with a strong, confident, and elevated status.
  • In the context of the song, it symbolizes Taylor's return to the public eye and re-establishing her position in the music industry.
• "Call the amateurs and / Cut 'em from the team"
  
  • This phrase uses the concept of a sports team to signify separating the less dedicated or less talented (the "amateurs") from the main group. It implies that only the best and most loyal (fans) shall remain, akin to a team selection process in sports.
• "Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads / Beer sticking to the floor / Cheers chanted, cause they said"
  
  • This imagery is reminiscent of celebratory scenes in sports, particularly football games where fans celebrate their team's victories with loud cheers, lifting people in celebration, and the chaotic but joyful atmosphere, very much like the Eras tour.
• "There was no chance, trying to be / The greatest in the league / Where's the trophy?"
  
  • Directly references sports league competition and winning a trophy, which signifies achieving the highest honor or success. And who is she? The Billboard Woman of the Decade. The first person in history to win the AOTY 4 times. One with one of the highest grossing tour of all time. Yes by all accounts she's the music industry.

TLDR: If you switched the "you" in this song to reference "the fans", this song will make complete sense. Now, try giving this song a listen, and think of "you" as "yourself" (the fans).
Taylor Swift's song "The Alchemy," is basically a powerful ode to her fans, chronicling her journey through public scrutiny and her triumphant return to the music industry. It draws parallels to her tumultuous period following the "snake gate" incident with Kim Kardashian and her subsequent hiatus before the release of "Reputation," the lyrics reflect a narrative of resilience, redemption, and the unwavering bond between Swift and her fans.
Once you are able to interpret "you" as "the fans", you'll be able to see, without having to do too much mental gymnastics, that the song is about the transformative and enduring connection Swift shares with her loyal supporters.
If you've made it this far, thank you for reading. Sorry for any typos or grammatical errors - but I hope I helped you made sense of the song!

Mine would be something like 'I Became The Convenience Store King In A Cultivation World', you can't tell me that isn't a title you might be interested in reading. Imagine the MC suddenly in a fantasy world in a convenience store, unlocking a system that made me the "Convenience Store King". My system could be directly tied to profit margins with all forms of currency and materials being exchangeable for goods like fresh chip packets or ice creams.
Going into story recap mode:
Leaving the store, it disappears and vanishes into my system storage with an information window that I can summon it on its own or by using an inner space like a cave or doorway. Suddenly, I am travelling to the nearest city, working a bunch of odd jobs to afford things that I want in my convenience store, delivered in packages and boxes. Soon enough, a cultivator group is riding through and stops at the city to ask about monsters and beasts that might have attained sentience and began cultivating. It is then that they come across my store which only has 2 windows and a door in the middle of a shack, showing the inside and attracting their curiosity. Going inside they were perplexed about the expansion of the inner space, thinking it was the product of a cultivator and that maybe the mortal simply picked up the item. I reassured them and gave them some discounts, alluring them with the taste of modern confectionary products that they can't simply steal because the interior suppresses their cultivation. With no other choice, they buy some of the stock and get hooked, taking some for later and paying with spiritual stones once they ran out of taels since they had spent most buying information.
Coming back bursting through my store which expanded to a business district store instead of a shitty stall, the cultivators came back to buy more with their mysterious master, allowing me to get more spiritual stones and buy a spiritual energy sucker that solved my electricity billing problem and gives me more cash to spend. It is then that the sect master shows herself with her regal and youthful appearance, demanding my servitude, something I refuse and she smirks at, saying she is interested in me and asks me to return with her, to which I only agree if I can open a store in the sect where both inner and outer disciples can shop. She agrees and we get to go on a flying ship after I sell my store, using an instantly deployable Yurt that I got as a system reward to continue selling until I got to the sect. At the sect, the sect leader set me up with a store at the gateway for outer disciples when they need to attend mass or graduate to an inner disciple. Every time a new item came in stock there would be an uproar of people wanting to taste it and give it a try with even the sect master coming by to buy food, drinks and clothing. All the while I would be learning the sect's cultivation techniques and taking some time off to join others in their activities.
As time passes, the store is updated with security cameras, metal detectors, an ice machine, a bigger store, more storage in the back, stronger doors and locks, an emergency call button to the sect and a TV that I can use to look at cameras or watch the internet from back in my world. I would also use the sect to get a magical beast who would help manage the store and I would train with good quality meat that other convenience stores wouldn't usually sell. Together the two of us would manage the store and train in cultivation, going on adventures since my importance would warrant inner disciple status and maybe get me picked as the sect master's direct disciple, allowing me to bring and use my store and eventually upgrade it to have different entry points. Upgrading the store brings me benefits like opening branches that all connect to the same store, bringing in extra business as I also create meeting rooms for those wishing to use the store's spacial property to connect with others like a mail service or

In the heart of Chicago, where the skyline pierced the heavens and the streets pulsed with life, there lived a man named Victor Kane. At 26 years old and a startling 6'3" in stature, Victor commanded attention effortlessly. His piercing gaze seemed to see through the very fabric of one's soul, and his knowing, flirtatious smirk hinted at secrets that few could ever fathom. Victor was a man of many faces, each one carefully crafted and expertly worn to blend into any situation, like a chameleon adapting to its surroundings. Each interaction with another human was as if it were another painting to be hung in the Art Institute of Chicago, a masterpiece of social maneuvering and charm.
To most, he appeared unremarkable, perhaps even a bit dim, an illusion he maintained with meticulous precision. Yet beneath this facade lay a mind as sharp as a dagger, honed by years of strategic thinking, manipulation, and the art of emotional deceit. Victor had learned from the best. His father, a man deeply entrenched in the shadowy world of organized crime, had mastered the art of bending reality to his will. A master chess player, he treated people like pieces on a grand chessboard, moving them at his whim, always six steps ahead. Victor had absorbed these lessons like a sponge, his young mind eagerly soaking up every tactic, every subtle nuance of control.
Battles with his father have left their scars, trailing off Victor like a snake's entrails as they slither through crowded streets, scanning for their next meal. They probe the aura of each passerby, tasting their energy, yet to their disappointment, they find no juicy, dirt-filled sponge of pain and suffering. They taste desires, yet nothing hits just right. Empty husks, devoid of the essence they crave. Living memories enshroud him in a cloud of black smoke, a spectral fog visible only to a witch. A demon, masquerading as a homeless man and muttering incoherent whispers, feels the snake's embrace tighten around him. He halts abruptly, turning to Victor with a knowing gaze. 'I see you,' he murmurs, 'Such discipline and composure may deceive the others, yet it's only a matter of time before they find you.' The homeless man continues his walk, pulling a black suitcase along, his tattered white shirt contrasting sharply with his black suit, and no tie to complete the ensemble.
Victor makes no comment, his mind a labyrinth of dark intentions and calculated moves. He viewed the world as a malleable entity, something he could shape and twist to suit his needs. The streets, the people, the very air he breathed; they were all part of a grand, intricate game where he alone held the key. He had no qualms about using others to achieve his goals, seeing them as mere tools in his grand design. It was a dangerous philosophy, one which required constant vigilance and adaptability. As he moved through the throngs of oblivious souls, he could almost hear the whispers of their deepest fears and hidden sins. The scars trailed behind him, living entities of their own, reaching out hungrily, desperate for a morsel of genuine suffering. Yet the city, with all its noise and chaos, offered little more than hollow echoes and fleeting shadows. Traces of happiness. Lost children in the never ending void of their own desperation. Victor's eyes flickered with a cold, calculating light. He was a master of this urban jungle, a predator in search of worthy prey. The demon’s warning lingered in his mind, yet it only fueled a burning hunger. He thrived in the shadows, where power and control were his for the taking. Each step he took was a step closer to his ultimate end goal, a twisted vision of dominance, only he could see.
In the distance, the city’s lights shimmered like false promises, yet Victor knew better. Beneath the surface, in hidden corners and forgotten alleys, darkness mirrored his own. In this abyss, he felt certain he would find what he sought: the true essence of his own hunger, the raw, unfiltered energy he could devour. Victor thrived on the underestimation of others, reveling when people perceived him as lesser. Such perceptions made his manipulations appear as innocent mistakes, acts of ignorance and oblivion. His favorite targets: those with inflated egos, individuals convinced of their invincibility.
"A person with a big ego is like an orgasm," he often mused, speaking as if to his shadow. "It's just so easy. Their first mistake: telling me we're not equals. Afterward, they reveal all the buttons and levers in their psyche. They hand me their own weapon on a silver platter, asking, 'Victor, please send me to meet Anpu. Please show me the gates of my own demise.' Their insanity begs to be freed from this curse of societal norms. Always the first mistake, then the rest follow." Laughter echoed from the snakes twining around Victor. As he whispered these musings, the words ensnared a group of Venezuelans nearby, inciting them into a frenzy of violence without understanding the spark. Victor watched, casually tossing a silver dollar their way as if to say, "Welcome to the sanctuary," his smirk a shadow under the flickering streetlights. He calls to the boys, 'there now before you boys get into trouble remember this, you're only seeing the lions teeth, yet you haven't seen what triggered it.' They stared at Victor, startled, as he bid them farewell with a two-finger salute from his left temple and continued wandering down the street.
A drone sliced through the air, its camera lens capturing the serpentine twists of the Chicago River below. Victor, watching its flight, was transported to his youth, to days spent cobbling together a demonic owl from discarded household trinkets and an owl decoy. He would pilot this macabre creation through his neighborhood, a spectral puppeteer orchestrating nocturnal ballets which both delighted and unnerved his unsuspecting audience. A sinister grin unfurled across his lips, a shadow's whisper, as memories of those simple machines mingled with the sophisticated arsenal he commanded today. In the digital age, Victor had become a maestro of manipulation, his tools refined yet no less mischievous. Social media platforms were his stage, targeted advertisements and spoofed numbers his actors, each one playing their part in his grand, deceptive symphony. With the deftest touch, he planted seeds of doubt, spun webs of misinformation, transforming allies into adversaries, stitching chaos into the fabric of daily lives with mere whispers masquerading as shouts. His schemes were crafted with such subtlety, woven so seamlessly into the warp and weft of reality, that his victims believed themselves architects of their own undoing.
The crowning jewel of his current machinations was a prototype drone, a whimsical homage to the contraptions of his youth yet imbued with the precision of modern technology. This drone, engineered to navigate from the chilly confines of his refrigerator to the steamy oasis of his rooftop hot tub, was a testament to his technical acumen. Crafted to be mended with mere baubles from any corner hardware store, it stood as a symbol of practical genius, a playful yet potent emblem of his enduring craft.
Victor glimpsed a universe of possibilities within this project, each drone a seed from which new opportunities might bloom. "Perhaps I could craft a model for a dive shop in Australia," he mused. "A sentinel to monitor the slow dance of decay among the coral reefs." Such a gift could forge pathways, perhaps even secure an internship, an opportunity to wield his 417 subclass visa before its flame flickered out. The prospect of traversing Australia's vast landscapes, of weaving his influence through uncharted territories and minds, sparked a thrill within him. Beyond the realm of circuitry and code, Victor possessed a profound mastery over the human psyche. He had the uncanny ability to read individuals, to delve into the murky depths of their insecurities and desires. With the finesse of a sculptor, he could mold a woman’s perception, convincing her of a soul-deep connection, crafting mirages of perfect compatibility. Yet, for all his prowess in the art of deception, Victor adhered to his own strict code. He eschewed physical violence, never staining his hands with assault; his dominion was the mind, his influence woven through the delicate fabric of psychology.
In Chicago's suffocating underbelly, Victor's father regarded him not with paternal concern, rather with venomous animosity. Their relationship was a battleground, devoid of affection or empathy, cloaked threats masquerading as concern. "Victor, if you don't see a psychiatrist, I'm cutting you off," he declared, his voice a cold hiss, a deeper wish for Victor's demise lurking beneath. Victor's laugh, hollow, echoing through the night, a sound devoid of warmth, knew well the true nature of the psychiatrist and the deeper machinations of his father's cruel intentions. His father viewed him not as a son, yet as a nemesis, a presence he wished to erase from existence. Surrounded by the oppressive cityscape, Victor stood alone atop his building, the L line screeching past, the lights below mere distant, watchful eyes. "Tomorrow, I bend reality once more," he whispered into the void, his voice merging with the cold wind sweeping the rooftops.
The relentless pursuit of his father's malice shadowed him into the darkest city corners where shadows moved with intent, whispering of ancient, sinister forces. Here, in the corner of his eyes an oozing of black liquid drenched an alley, a tar monster, a grotesque manifestation of the city’s darkest secrets, its gnarled face and gleaming teeth mirroring the twisted relationship endured. Against a backdrop of a city thrumming with malevolent energy, Victor pondered the fragile line between delusion and reality. "It's only delusional till it works, so is it really delusional?" he mused aloud, his words dissipating into the night where the distinction between madness and genius blurred by darkness.
Retreating from the alley, his figure melded into the shadows, each step deliberate, burdened with the weight of a cursed legacy. He was acutely aware of his dual role, both manipulator and pawn in a grander, more malevolent game, a game orchestrated by forces predating the city itself. Every movement influenced by the sinister energy pervading Chicago, a legacy of corruption and darkness intertwined with his own existence. Victor understood his every action overseen by the ancient entity had taken interest in him, an entity finding delight in his struggle, offering protection at a dreadful cost.
Emerging from the shadows back into the flickering city lights, Victor found no solace in the illumination yet his smile stretched reaching his eyes showing his gleaming razor sharp teeth. These lights did not offer hope only humor; they were beacons of a foreboding reality. He resolved to continue bending reality, wielding the cursed power both protecting, ensnaring him, and pointing out the irony of his situation. Day after day, he would play this dark game, a master of deceit entwined with an ancient force more profound and sinister than any could fathom.
With one final, lingering look at the alley where darkness reigned supreme, Victor Kane laughed, a hollow echo fading as he stepped into the nearby pub. Inside, the warm glow contrasted starkly with the night's chilling embrace, yet the shadows seemed merely to lurk at the edges, waiting. At their usual spot by the worn bar, he found Billy Smith, his old high school Basketball teammate, with two pints of beer ready. They clinked glasses, the sound slicing through the hum of conversations around them. "To the unexpected," Victor intoned, his voice laced with a hint of irony. As they settled into the rhythm of their catch-up, the conversation inevitably turned toward the unfolding news, the war in Ukraine, an event that had caught the world off guard.
"No one ever saw it coming," Billy remarked, his tone a mix of wonder and concern.
Victor's eyes flickered with a dark amusement, and raising his glass again, he offered a toast, this time in Latin, a language that carried the weight of history and secrets. "Ad profundis malorum," he declared, which translated to 'To the depths of evils.'
Billy paused, the words hanging between them like a veil being slowly drawn back to reveal a hidden scene. The toast was enigmatic, resonant with Victor’s acknowledgment of the chaos brewing both near and far, a chaos that, perhaps, only he could navigate.
As the night deepened within the grimy confines of the pub, where every corner whispered of misdeeds and the air hung heavy with the scent of stale beer and lost hopes, the laughter and chatter provided a deceptive cover for the profound game silently playing in Victor’s mind. His cryptic toast, "Ad profundis malorum," echoed a darker undertone amidst the jovial noise.
Across the bar, a woman with long jet black hair and piercing grey eyes watched Victor. Clad in a striking red full-grain leather trench coat, her presence was undeniably conspicuous, yet paradoxically, she remained unnoticed. Despite her short stature, she was fit, her features sharply defined, an attractiveness seemingly almost otherworldly amidst the grime of the pub. Curiously, not even the barkeep spared her a glance, as if she existed in a separate realm, visible only to those she chose to confront. As Billy excitedly shared his plans to open a dive shop with a taco bar on the roof, the woman’s lips moved in a whisper, her voice a soft, clear bell in the din, carrying a dire warning. "I know what you are. We found you." At that moment, a flashback surged through Victor’s mind, a haunting image of a colonial girl he once saw in the Fraser Experimental Forest. His girlfriend at the time had turned to him, her voice tinged with unease. "Victor, do you see what I see? The girl? Yeah, the girl. I can feel something following us. As if it knows what we are yet won't approach, yet I can feel it." This vivid recollection now seemed a prelude to the current moment, a chilling reminder the forces he had glimpsed back then were the same now declaring their presence.
The evening wound down with plans made and stories shared, yet the woman’s prophetic words and the ghostly memory of the girl hung unseen in the air, portending looming confrontations between the light she embodied and the shadow following Victor Kane. As the patrons began to drift away, the shadows reclaiming their territory within the pub, the mysterious woman’s figure faded into the background, her message delivered, her purpose yet unclear but undoubtedly intertwined with Victor’s fate.
The end.

So I must fist say that I am in my early thirties and ave gone through accutane when I was eighteen and that god rid of a lot of my acne. And that I have been using tret since December 2022 . And my skin is mostly clear except around my period I would get like three pimples or the odd one . But all in all I don’t have j’huge issues. I started tret 0,05 too in December 2022 to mprove texture and pores. I started spiro April 2023 because I was having unusual breakouts that I think were linked with a contraceptive pill that I stopped anyways. And I loved it so much because I had no side effects and no breakouts at all. And even if they were not a lot I would get very upset when I would get one or two like social anxiety. It’s been a few months like two months it seems to not be working as well as it used to. I started having my period again which I didn’t in the beginning for four months but the breakouts came back . Not bad but I have a little around my period. I must also mention that I started at 150 because my dermatologist told me to. So I can’t really up my dosage. Should I stop ? Like maybe my body got used to it . And there is no point now. Or is it still working but I am getting greedy ? I don’t know now because the tret also improves my skin. But during the summer I had nothing no acne at all ever and no period which was annoying..