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The wagons or tanks rolled through the gate in a caravan that was more akin to a carnival than a group of tradesmen; all the wizards with their pointed hats were shaped magnificently against the browns and grays, some wore white porcelain dramedy masks beneath headwear as dark as pipe resin, men and women and those between—as that was common from where they hailed. Their company was perhaps forty and their mules and mares were thirsty and were led to troughs to idle while the wizards removed goods from their wagons or tanks and although it was not a spectacle for them to arrive within Golgotha’s walls, it was something still and the citizens gathered to greet whatever wizards they might know but mostly perhaps to whisper rumors on them. The wizards seemed a taller folk, but that was because of the hats, and they seemed wider too, but that was for the robes they adorned with costume jewelry, trinkets, or fingernail-sized lanterns which contained magical properties hung off their clothes as ornaments (some metal and other crudely wooden). I never knew a people that could trek the wastes in that time as well as me till I knew them.
Boss Maron was there at the gates with his wall men, hollering—shouting really, “The Whores of Babylon have come again!” And the bells signaled from atop the highest tower over the hall of Bosses and I met the front square with a morning headache and a cigarette. The Boss sheriff was clothed, cowboy hat pulled tightly to his ears, and he waltzed through the square, inspecting the new arrivals with his crotch out in front of him as he moved in a swagger like a cup of shifted water. Morning sunlight crested the wall to reflect on the pistol in his holster as it did on the star pin of his hat.
Among them, there was only one wizard I cared to see. Their name was Suzanne.
The hanged bodies of the men remained on the wall, dead and stiff and shifting to the little wind there was.
The square had filled with carts (some drawn by animals and others pushed on oil), and even if it were not for the bells which signaled their arrival, I’d have surely known their presence for the clatter of their metal engines.
“Well goddamn!” said Maron while examining a wizard, “What’s that you’ve got on your legs?”
The wizard, a young woman in plain pants wore a set of leg braces and whenever she moved, she did so in shifting her hips around. “Braces,” she said.
“What’s it for? Or is it some of your all’s secret whodo?”
“I’ve got bad legs. The braces help.” She said plainly, attempting to angle herself straight like a stick against one of the traveling party’s wagons.
“Bad legs?” Boss Maron’s expression was incredulous. “Who has bad legs? What sort of nonsense is it? If a lady like you’s made it this far in life with bad legs, then someone’s done you a disservice.”
She looked on questioningly while the other wizards continued with their unpacking or their conversating—whether it be amongst themselves or with the freckle-spaced citizens in the square.
“How are you to outrun trouble when you’ve got them?” He nodded at the young woman’s legs.
“I don’t.” Her face was red either because of the sun or because of the scrutiny. “I’m just bow-legged.”
“Damn,” he shook his head, “Well how much you want for one of them?”
“One of my braces?”
“Yeah. All I want’s the one anyway.”
“I need both of them.”
“C’mon. You wouldn’t notice just one missing. I mean, you’ve got a spare right next to it.”
Upon noticing a robed figure I recognized by the animals at the troughs, I moved to them instead and let Maron’s conversation fall to the wayside. The chatter of the crowd was wild and startled words came as a wizard exposed their collection of tonics to passersby.
“Suzanne,” I said.
The figure turned to face me, moving their head to look away from a mare they’d been brushing to expose one of those white porcelain masks.
I knew it and could not contain a smile.
“Harlan?” asked the figure. The mask on its face was split in the middle with hinges on either side and they opened it to show their face; it was Suzanne. They’d grown some hair around their throat and wore lipstick on their lips and dyes on their eyes.
“It’s good to see you.” I pushed myself into a hug with them and I could smell the travel off them but didn’t care.
They shifted timidly before hugging me back and I pretended not to notice. Once we’d separated, I looked on Suzanne’s face again and they were looking on at the hanging men on the wall. “Again?” they asked.
I nodded and shot a look towards the Boss across the way.
“What justice?” they asked no one while shaking their head.
Trying an answer, I said, “Justice is something man made, I think. I’ll leave men to men and the rest to God.”
“God.” Suzanne nodded glumly then shook their head. “Which one?”
I laughed a good laugh that felt real but nervous too then kicked the ground and took the last drag off my cigarette before chucking it to the ground. “What’s brought you here?”
Suzanne answered plainly. “We took a long time east out near Pittsburgh.” Their eyes scanned the buildings further on from the square. “The people there are worse than here, it seems. At least you still have your walls.”
“Pittsburgh’s fallen?”
They frowned. “Not completely. They’ve mostly gone underground. A skitterbug infestation caused a plague directly before an attack of proportions I’ve yet seen.” Suzanne’s brow furrowed. “It was awful.” The words hung in the air for a moment. “But we’re here now and thought we’d stop for a rest and some guns and ammo before returning to Babylon. We’ve brought some medicines to trade.”
I learned from my friend that Pittsburgh’s infrastructure and fortifications were decimated in an attack the wizards only caught second-hand and the survivors—holed away in the tunnels beneath Pittsburgh—told of how the demons ran the walls once their reserves were low.
Then the wizards gathered there began unpacking books, some scrolls, and there were medicines too and some of the Bosses other than Maron (he pushed his harassment of the young wizard with leg braces) graced us there with their presence as they came on and began to pick across the goods, haggling prices. Boss Frank was there, and he stood before a wizard by a tank with a wooden table of jars—capped elixirs of varying colors—he grew increasingly frustrated with their selection and took on in his braggadocious way, speaking of numbers. A few of the idle wizards leaned against carts or even took across town and a small group of them had gathered for a quick show near the guard posts, playing instruments (strings over the vocals of “In My Life”) and there in the front of them was a young wizard man that had removed his hat to show how he played with fire flames off his hands—it was a sideshow play—and the citizens wore variations of bemusement or disgust. The children of Golgotha, all dirty faced with sprigs of hair jutting about from their morning’s waking, seemed totally bewildered in the joy of song and clapped their hands or shook their hips all with smiles.
I stuffed my hands in my jacket and prodded Suzanne, “What’s with the plague? I mean, was it contained? None of your lot got sick, did they?”
Suzanne scoffed, perhaps a little pridefully, “No. I wouldn’t worry about that.” They patted a nearby mule then withdrew a brush and moved it across its thin coat before looking over its hooves. “I’ve brought you some books I found out that way though. You still read?”
I nodded.
“Don’t expect any of that fiction. The only ones I’ve found recently are old pamphlets or medical texts.” Suzanne paused and smiled, returning the animal brush to their robes, “You haven’t happened upon anything that might interest me, have you?”
Their shown teeth were infectious. “Mayhap. I’d need you to come back to my place so I could give them to you.” An awkward pause followed and the roar of the still accumulating crowd overtook the space between us before I continued. “Mostly interesting containers and a few flecks of gold I took from some old computers—they’ve been waitin’ on you for weeks now. I got some parchment that might be of use to you too. You can take what you need as always.”
“How about we get some food? I’m famished. Riding through the night takes its toll.”
Me and Suzanne took from the square up a narrow route that led through residences where the lower levels had their curtains drawn and then we took stairs toward balconies and catwalks configured from reinforced metal; we spoke as we went and a few odd glances from passersby met the wizard as we did.
“The tide on the east is rising again,” said Suzanne.
“Worse than before?”
“Worse than before.”
“God, I don’t think I’ve seen the ocean for a decade or more.” I slid my hand along the railing once we came to what was essentially my front porch; it was a perch among the catwalks that cut against the domicile where I shared walls with others on three sides and we stopped there outside my door. “We saw a dragon only a few days ago.”
Suzanne’s interest seemed piqued. “A dragon? And what direction was it traveling?”
“Well,” I craned over the railing, looking down the narrow walkway that separated my building and the one across the way; I couldn’t see the front square from outside my home, but I could still just make out the music echoing from that direction, “Could’ve been north or west. I was preoccupied, but I wouldn’t worry much. The wall men gave it a pretty good thrashing before it took off.”
“Hmm.”
“So, the ocean? It’s rising, huh?”
They joined me there on railing, supporting themselves against their forearms. “It is. Faster than ever. Some bad magic’s taken the water. I imagine by the end of the year Pittsburgh will be under it. There’s something bad coming. You might call it intuition if you want, but I know it’s coming. Something bad. Revelations bad. There comes a time when even those of us forsaken are brought worse.”
“Bah!” I couldn’t help it, “John thought it was the end times while he wrote the damn thing. And what about all the other books? Hm?”
Suzanne put up their hands. “I didn’t mean it like that at all. You know I’m only the mildest scholar on the topic.”
“Anyway. You’d better not start having visions. Got enough to worry about as is.” I’d not realized my shoulders were tense until their hand touched me, and I flinched.
“You’ve a bruise around your neck. Care to elaborate there?”
I shook my head. “Got into a fight.”
Suzanne laughed, removed their pointed hat and playfully put it on my head. “C’mon. Cook me something. You might not know a thing about spices, but your cooking’s always tasted better.”
We took through my door to my small single room where simple amenities awaited and an ancient, decommissioned pump-shotgun hung on the wall over the bed. “That’s just ‘cause you ain’t the one laboring over it.”
Across a meal of potato cakes and toasted bread, we drank coffee until I broke into the liquor to spice my coffee and alleviate my hangover, and we shared the drink and Suzanne took to wash in the sink while I smoked outside on the overlook. Upon returning to the room, I saw them there with a wet rag stuffed beneath an armpit and they were beautiful caught without robes, frame cast in sunglow through the crack in my doorway. In a moment, our hands glided around one another in a scramble of arms at the middle point between us and we took to bed for a while.
Come midday, we remained there, staring at the ceiling, chests bare, and blanket strewn across our lower halves.
“You’re going gray,” said Suzanne.
“You’re getting old too, ya’know.”
“Yes.”
“How long did you say you’ll be staying?” I asked while trying to mask whatever excitement may be present.
“Few days. Once we’ve enough ammunition.” They traced their index finger along my ear lobe.
“Stay.” I offered.
They frowned. “Come.”
“I did already.”
They gave me a light shove and cut their eyes at me. Hazel. How good that color was. “Really. What keeps you here?”
“Things.” I pushed up in the bed to sit, finagling my underwear from the jeans on the floor.
“I wish you would.”
“I’m no wizard.”
“You don’t need to be.”
“Maybe there will come a time when I take you up on that offer. Who knows?” I slid into the drawers.
“Is it Maron?” they asked, “I don’t know your fascination with him. He’s the worst combination cruel and dumb I’ve seen.”
“Like an animal.” I nodded. “Like something real bad’s wrong with him. But no. He’s not my fascination.” Lying was always hard with them. “I worry about this place. I wouldn’t do the things I do if I didn’t. What if I were to leave it and then it turns out like Pittsburgh.”
“Oh, you’re an expert in plagues now?”
“No,” I scoffed, “I guess it’s just a place that weighs on my conscious.” I went to sit on the bed alongside them.
“You hate it here. I can see it more on your face every time we meet.”
“That I do. Call it an investment dilemma. I’ve put time in it, and I want it to be well.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
I caught Suzanne’s face there, staring up from the flat pillow, flustered. My reasoning was hard, but I continued, “There is one thing I should undo before I leave here. It’s a long time coming, and I don’t know if I can. But it’s important,” upon seeing their quizzical expression, I added, “And it is secret.”
“I wish you’d come with us. You’d be welcome.”
“I’ll visit Babylon sometime next month. I promise.”
“You shouldn’t call it that. I don’t like it when you call it that.” The wizards never called their home Babylon; that was a name conjured by the many religious fanatics that considered their magic evil (even if they did trade with the ‘heretics’ from time to time). The name they’d given their own city of medicine was Alexandria; it was fitting for I’d seen their expansive libraries and could become lost in them easily.
“Fine. I’ll be there.” I squeezed their hand in mine. “I’ll miss you once you’ve gone.”
“Don’t get sappy,” they said before planting a kiss on my forehead.
The day went and then the next and another and the wizards packed their belongings. No more music for Golgotha, only quiet agony. As Suzanne said, they’d left me a few books and I’d given away my parchment, jars, and gold. While they were in town, I even was able to snag a few more bottles of their famous wizard liquor along with a few vials of medicine—always good to have whenever I set foot beyond the walls or when someone within might need it.
There came a time finally—as every time it does—where I watched the caravan, with gray smoke clouds off the engines, take on north first where there was an opening wide enough in the ruins to accommodate vehicles, then it hooked around a wide bend that took them west then their black shapes against the red morning skyline disappeared like fading ink as their magic cloaked them entirely. I wished them well, but at the moment of dissipation, I felt an urge to leap from the top of the wall, charge across the field, scream that I was coming and scream it loud enough that I’d hurt myself. I think I just loved—though I never said it aloud and neither did they—and love is a bad thing more often than it is good, for the longing it leaves in its absence drives a person mad and I did not want to be mad; the feeling burst from me quietly there on the wall while I was flanked on either side by guards. I was sure all along the way they went that I could just make out Suzanne among them; that was probably a fault in my vision, but I imagined they were casting glances back, hoping to hold me as strongly as I wished to hold them. I went to the streets of Golgotha where the town quieted from the previous days’ engagements with the wizards.
Normal came and settled and then came chanting from Lady as she moved through sullen quiet streets. She was so far off that I was not sure it was her at all and then came the lines as she drew nearer by the hydroponics towers, and she shouted them vigorously and shook her fist above the air and held a staff with a swinging lantern of incense in her opposite hand, partly for ceremony and partly for support. The words came harshly, gravelly:
“They called to the mountains and to the rocks, fall on us and hide us from the face of him who sits on the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb! For the great day of their wrath has come, and who can withstand it?”
“The lamb will be your shepherd. He will guide you. Hallelujah! He will lead you to the springs of living water and wipe away every tear!”
“Many will be purified, made spotless and refined, but the wicked will continue to be wicked. None of the wicked will understand, but those who are wise will understand! Do not be tempted by the deviousness of the whorish Babylonians for all the nations have drunk the maddening wine of her adulteries. The kings of the earth committed adultery with her, and the merchants of the earth grew rich from her excessive luxuries.”
A person, among the catwalks, shouted down at Lady, “Shut-the-fuck-up!”
I watched her come fully down the avenue as she dodged a thrown egg from somewhere unseen, then dashed away toward an offshoot alley to hide somewhere, incense lantern smoking, clanging against her back while she screeched off more scripture from memory. After she was long gone, I moved to the spot where the egg was, rubbed it into dirt with the sole of my boot and looked up through the spiderweb network of catwalks overhead; there was no one.
Without a thing keeping me, I took off the following day, and upon meeting the gates, Maron was there and I could see he was the proud owner of a used leg brace; he grinned upon seeing me, patting his mustache down with his forefinger and thumb.
“Whatcha’ think?” He motioned to his left leg. “It’s a bit of a conversation starter, ain’t it?”
“Get your boys to open the gate, I’m going out.”
He shook his head. “Won’t find anything out there. It’s all dirt and rubble, you know.”
“Just open it.”
“You know what?” He cut his eyes at me. “There’s gonna’ come a day when you won’t be so able bodied or maybe the Bosses won’t like you coming and going as you please.”
I inhaled heavily then let it go. “Now can’t we skip to the end where you acquiesce to my request?”
“Words words words you’ve got. You’ve got a lot of words. Acquiesce. Psshaw.” Boss Maron waved for the guards to open the gate and they did, and I stepped by him, and he spit somewhere behind me before I heard him hobble around with his single leg brace.
The path was clear and open on all sides and in no time, I’d taken across the field to the east and found myself on the edge of the ruins where things stank, and I was free from no other thought than to live. Creeping hot overcame me and brought my hair to my forehead and I holed off in a shadow to drank from my gourd before continuing. The sun was red in the sky in the places where I could see sky from around the black shadows of towering structures. I ducked beneath an old shop counter when I heard the skittering of fart heads and pulled a sleeve to kill the scent of their chlorine breath.
Once they’d gone, I pulled through the wreckage more and more till I came upon the markings for an old safehouse in the back office of a garage I’d not been to in a while. What were my intentions? Was I going to go all the way to the coast? Throw myself into those bad magic waters? There’s a thing they don’t teach you in religion. They prattle all day to do this or that and they say that Hell awaits sinners or Hades or maybe its in layers or circles or what have you. They’ll tell you about the places and they’ll say that if you take life into your own hands, you end in Hell, but what’s a person to do when those creeping intrusions come along—the ones that call to a person in the darkness, the ones where they tempt you to jump from a high place or there’s always a gun or a poison. Maybe a person could bribe another to do it for them. Where do they end up then? What are you supposed to do to stave off those thoughts? Should a person contend such melancholies with prayer? That did not seem helpful. What is the soulless to do without the promise of those pearly gates anyway?
Anyway, I took on past the safehouse and found a utility hall in the side of a tall industrial building just beyond a partially erect chain link fence. The wall was opened up like a cracked shell from years of standing alone, and after ducking through there, I found some old matches in a drawer, plastic gas cans whose contents had long since congealed within; I kicked them (not that I expected anything more). Moving further down the wide hallway, there were shelves of dusty tools, and I took some hammers and knives (cheapo stuff).
Further still down the hall, there was a staircase, and I took it quietly; the stone stairs made hardly a sound against the bottoms of my boots, and I took the stairs more quickly till I was out of breath and caught myself on a landing where I supped silent air before rushing further up the stairs. An old metallic cabinet or console—I couldn’t make it out—lay strewn across the steps to the second-highest floor and I climbed over it before coming to the building’s roof access. Upon coming to the door with a metal push bar across its middle, I gave it a shove and it did not budge but a minor clink and I took a moment to collect myself before rummaging through my gear.
Slung through a loop on the inside of my pack was a short prybar that was so worn around its tooth it was more rounded than an edge; I shimmied the piece of metal into the spot where the door latched into the way and began crimping the spot apart, trying all the while to maintain a relative quiet in the dead ruins. Once I’d bent away at the door for a few moments, I elevated my body weight at an awkward angle to pop the door free and it did so, half open, with a rusty screech that forced a long pause from me; I stood there by the newly opened doorway for a full minute, holding the prybar, holding my breath. Upon hearing nothing in response to the noise of the door, I slid the tool into my pack and slipped through the threshold.
The flat roof of the industrial building sloped to one corner—where the opening in the wall of the first floor was—and sitting there in the middle of an open platform was an old helicopter, blades half torn away or rusted off and the remaining slanted from the top of the old vehicle, touching the platform it sat upon. The roof access looked like a little square house atop the flat headed structure and around the side of the access, I found an old corpse (entirely bones) wrapped in black plastic-like armor, the white dry fingers laid across its lap, several digits gone and its hollow eye holes staring off into the sky with a permanent smile. I moved to the thing that hadn’t been human in a long time and prodded it; the skeleton slumped to the side and looked on the ground by its shoes. How long had it been staring at the sky and how long had it been waiting for me to come and change its dead visage?
I moved to the edge of the building, to the corner where the building sloped and looked off the edge to the ground below; all was quiet, and nothing moved save the shadows’ stalwart creep across the ground. Examining from above, I could see the opening I’d climbed through and beneath my shifting feet, I felt the ground give a little; timidly, I angled more forward and for a moment I thought I knew why I’d gone up there in the first place. Suddenly six-stories felt high. The urge to jump came. Perhaps on the way down, I’d have just a blink to convince myself I’d slipped.
“Hey!” A shout from somewhere down below came from the direction I’d come from. I shook my head as it felt as though it was a ghost echo, a noise that wasn’t. Then it came again, “Hey!”
I squinted my eyes and there in the crumbled road below, there was a human I didn’t initially recognize; it was only after the figure tumbled through the remains of the chain link fence that I recognized it as Dave. I blinked.
Out of breath, he angled over to the opening at the base of the structure and called up at me, “Hey! I see you up there!”
Whisper-yelling, I cupped my hands, “Shutup!”
I took back to the stairs, and he hollered after, “Where you going?”
With reckless abandon, I took the stairs many at a time, leapt the cabinet on the stairs, scrambling while also reaching for the prybar I’d put away. I held the cold metal in my hand and charged toward the industrial storage hallway where I could see him silhouetted in the frame of the crumbled opening.
His chest heaved and he wiped at his brow; slung across his shoulder was a small supply bag and worn like a necklace was a pair of binoculars. “God, you move fast. Like a fuckin’ cockroach in light.” His eyes shifted from my face to the prybar in my hand as I approached him.
Standing within the echoey hallway, I lifted the weapon and pointed it at him. “What’d you follow me for?”
“You wouldn’t use that on me.” He took his eyes from the prybar. “I don’t think you would anyway. You might be shady, Harlan, but I don’t take you as a stone-cold murderer.”
“You take me wrong,” I said.
“Maybe.” He seemed to think on it a moment. “You wouldn’t?”
“If you’ve given away my position to those things, I might.”
“Lots of bluster.” Dave offered an incredibly forced smile, and I could see just from the little shine of the sun in the opening that his eye had blacked but remained functional. “I been watching you.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “I snuck out after you.”
“You ought to go back.”
“You ought to just listen. There ain’t a thing back there for me.”
“I don’t care.” The sharpness in my voice felt good. “I don’t need some sorry sack sneaking up on me when I’m mindin’ my own.”
A quiet laugh. “There’s nothing there for me. I been farming all my life and if I die,” he shrugged, “So be it.”
“Idiot. Fuckin’ idiot.”
“You manage out here! Wizards can too!”
“Wizards have magic.”
“You got some of that?”
I lowered the crowbar.
“We’ve got to stop starting our conversations with fights.” He paused and moved into the shadowy hallway of the building before perching in a half-sit half-lean against the wall near me. “I never was violent anyway, so if you want to hit me with that then do it.”
“Hmm.”
His shirt clung to him, sweat thick and dark on his chest and pits. “Goddamn you move fast.”
“You should wear a jacket or something. Long sleeves keep the sun off and a thicker material gives you a modicum of protection.” I took to squatting too, maintaining ample distance betwixt us. “A hat helps too, but I’m always losing hats.” I chewed on my tongue while mulling over whether I should leave him.
“Are you going to try and slink away while I’m not looking?”
I blinked. “No.”
“Liar.” He took a healthy gulp from his water gourd then wiped his mouth. “East is the ocean?”
I nodded.
“Is it far?”
I nodded. “For you.”
Dave sighed. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Telling me.”
“Okay.”
“You ever have any kids?”
I shook my head.
“It’s somethin’. Henry had so much energy—especially when he was little—there was times I didn’t think he’d ever settle down.”
“What are you doing out here?” I asked.
“Helen told me she was the same way when she was his age. She had energy too. I feel so tired.”
“Dave. What the fuck are you doing out here? Why’d you follow me?”
He took one last swallow from his gourd before shoving it into his pack. “I wanted to talk to you about killin’ the Bosses.”
I laughed into my hand. “That’s—that’s a thought.”
“I mean it.” His stare was like pinpricks.
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Uriel Ventris, Captain of the Ultramarines' 4th company

Uriel Ventris is the current Captain of the Ultramarines 4th Company. Elevated to his rank after the death of his predecessor and mentor, Captain Idaeus, Ventris took in the teachings of his mentor to heart utilizing a more flexible and liberal approach over the rigid ruleset dictated by the Codex Astartes. These deviations ultimately got Uriel into trouble with the rest of his chapter where he had taken ad hoc command during a Tyranid invasion of a Deathwatch operation, resulting in a breach of the codex astartes. This transgression resulted in a trial which saw Uriel exiled from the chapter (a punishment he willingly took and submitted to without the usual defense).
During Exile, Ventris was unexpectedly brought to Medrengard, homeworld of the Iron Warriors. There he ran afoul with the warlord Honsou by destroying his prized Daemoncubula (mutated women meant to 'birth' out skinless chaos space marines) before returning to Imperial space and receiving a cold welcome from the authorities. After finally being confirmed clean by both the Grey Knights and his own chapter, Uriel Ventris was allowed to return to the chapter and served again as its 4th captain, crossing the Rubicon Primaris when his Primarch returned and continuing to serve to this day.
Note: Events of books are listed in chronological order. Uriel as of Swords of Calth has become a Primaris Space Marine and has increased stats overall

Strength

• Turns a man's head into shards, and then knocks off a man's jaw Chains of Command
  
• Breaks a man's knee with a kick Chains of Command
  
• Breaks bones and kills people with just punches and kicks Chains of Command
  
• Shatters bones by jumping on someone then kills another person by punching Chains of Command
  
• Knifes another Space Marine to death through a weak spot and cuts them despite being shot in the process. Chains of Command
  
• Snaps another Space Marine's neck despite the earlier injury from above. Chains of Command
  
• Climbs a mountain with power assistance without any issues despite lingering injuries from the events of Chains of Command Nightbringer
  
• Breaks an Eldar's neck and helmet with an elbow Nightbringer
  
• Breaks open a door Nightbringer
  
• Disintegrates a helmeted man's face with a punch Nightbringer
  
• Yoinks a heavy bolter and uses it on the people who had been operating it Nightbringer
  
• Crushes a Necron to dust Nightbringer
  
• Kicks an Ork's teeth out Leviathan
  
• Blocks a swing from an Ork warboss Leviathan
  
  • This warboss is strong enough to crush power armor with a hug
• Breaks an Ork Warbosses' face by headbutting him and frees himself from its grip Leviathan
  
• Beats a Genestealer to death and spills its brains Leviathan
  
• Briefly holds down a genestealer long enough for his allies to shoot it dead despite getting clawed by it Leviathan
  
• Crushes the head of a Tyranid creature (presumably a Termagant) Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Unclear Used a wounded knee to kick and break a Tyranid's neck? Or was it his good knee? Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Sucker punches another Space Marine some unspecified distance till they hit a wall Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Kicks a Hormagaunt's head off Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Gets dog-piled by a bunch of Hormagaunts and shakes them off, crushing them beneath his weight, breaking their bones with an elbow strike and chopping through several of them Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Holds down an injured lictor with the help of a friend. Warriors of Ultramar
  
  • Lictors are this big
• Is able to just barely support the weight of a falling Space Marine and a Tyranid warrior trying to pull him down with one hand while grabbing a bolter in another Warriors of Ultramar
  
  • This is a ton of weight to be supporting as the book describes warriors to be 3-meters tall as well.
• Punches through the inner walls of a Tyranid ship Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Matches strength with a Tyranid organism bigger than a carnifex Warriors of Ultramar
  
  • Carnifexes are the size of tanks
• Draws blood from another Space Marine with a punch Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Breaks another Space Marine's knees with a kick Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Catches Honsou's fist and throws him off of himself Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Despite having been dying and taking several injuries in the past few chapters, Uriel is able to tear his way outside the belly of a daemonic-beast Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Crushes a mutant's skull with a punch Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Pieces of machinery which is big enough to support an assembly line of tanks immobilizes him but he would have been able to free himself if armored The Killing Grounds
  
• Hurts a Grey Knight Captain with a punch The Killing Grounds
  
• Snaps the neck of a Kroot Courage and Honour
  
• Is able to block a sword swing from a T'au battlesuit strong enough to crumple space marines, but isn't able to keep his weapon in the process Courage and Honour
  
• Staggers a T'au battlesuit by kicking it Courage and Honour
  
• Easily blocks a blow from a human soldier The Chapter's Due
  
• Turns aside the blow of a giant daemon prince who is strong enough to pick up Marneus Calgar and prevent him from breaking out of its grip. The Chapter's Due
  
  • Calgar is a big dude even by Space Marine standards
• Uriel is in this group Uriel and his group are all using weapons that require two strong men to lift Swords of Calth
  
• Punches a Necron's head in and then crushes its head Swords of Calth
  
• Lifts an gunship as well as tons of rubble over it Swords of Calth
  
• Continues to support the weight of an entire gunship but cannot hold this indefinetily Swords of Calth
  
  • The Storm Raven is pictured in the background and is quite large
• Barges through a group of necrons Swords of Calth
  
• Breaks out of the grapple of a necron, throws it, caves in its chest and then throws it again Swords of Calth
  
• Parries the blow of presumably a skorpekh destroyer from the description Swords of Calth
  
  • Art
• Smashes two necrons with his fists Swords of Calth
  
• Climbs a Titan while its moving mid-motion Swords of Calth
  
• Parries a blow (if barely) from the Nightbringer shard Swords of Calth
  
  • Nightbringer shards are fucking huge

Durability

• Takes no mentioned damage from a las-rifle Chains of Command
  
• Members of his squad (note Uriel is not mentioned to be hit) are able to withstand heavy bolter fire Chains of Command
  
  • He does refer to this as more than just 'little risk' implying some degree of damage done.
• A bullet just pings off of him Chains of Command
  
• Is still standing after being shot by a bolter and having a fist-sized hole in himself Chains of Command
  
• No-sells splinter rifle fire Nightbringer
  
• Gets poisoned but doesn't seem affected Nightbringer
  
• Tanks multiple blows from a Dark Eldar's axe Nightbringer
  
• No-sells shrapnel but is injured by a direct hit from a bolter Nightbringer
  
• Tanks a las-bolt Nightbringer
  
• Tanks another one Nightbringer
  
• Tanks what is most likely lasgun fire Nightbringer
  
• Has another slugfest with a Dark Eldar commander Nightbringer
  
• Touches the Nightbringer shard and is subjected to 'glacial chill. Then gets punched through the chest by the Nightbringer, having a lung and heart damaged Nightbringer
  
• Doesn't seem bothered by an elbow strike from an Ork Leviathan
  
• Gets punched by an Ork warboss Leviathan
  
  • This warboss was strong enough to crush power armor with just a hug
• A cut quickly heals Leviathan
  
• Tanks surprise claw attacks from a genestealer Leviathan
  
• Tanks more genestealer claw attacks Leviathan
  
• Is floored by a Tyranid creature striking him and clawing through his armor Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Is in pain but continues to run despite the above injury Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Can't get drunk and as part of Space Marine biology, simply neutralizes toxins. Warriors of Ultramar
  
• A flesh wound instantly clots Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Uriel and friend no-sell multiple blows that would have killed normal people twice over Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Tanks a blow from a 3-meter tall Tyranid warrior Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Tanks bio-plasma from a Carnifex Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Tanks blows from various Tyranid warrior strains Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Gets bitten by a unspecified swarm leader (presumably a hive tyrant) and is fine but injured. Warriors of Ultramar
  
  • This is the result of it a few chapters later
• Gets bitten by a Tyranid that rips out a fist-sized chunk out of him but keeps fighting Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Trades blows with another Space Marine who also has a bionic arm Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Gets punched by an extra strong Space Marine who sends him flying Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• His mind can switch off pieces of it in order to 'sleep' but still let him be aware of his surrondings Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Rubble falling on him only cracks his visor Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Gets stabbed through the throat and lives Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Gets punched a distance, and then gets his jaw broken by Honsou Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Tanks a continuous beating from Honsou before turning the tables Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• A dark mechanicum priest punching him draws blood from him Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Gets thrown across a large pit and slams into a statue of the Emperor and is not meaningfully hurt Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• 3 bolt shells (and one non-detonation) is almost able to kill him Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Heals from those injuries however basically by the next chapter Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Is hurt but fine after being struck by multiple bullets The Killing Ground
  
• Trades blows with a Grey Knight Captain The Killing Ground
  
• Has an extended fight with said Captain in a 2v1 but loses (that was the point however) The Killing Ground
  
• By the events of Courage and Honour, Uriel is given a new set of armor to replace his old damaged one. Courage and Honour
  
• No-sells three gunshots from Kroot Courage and Honour
  
• Swords break against his armor Courage and Honour
  
• Tanks a gunshot and a club to the head from an opponent of comparable strength Courage and Honour
  
• Said Kroot was 'unnaturally muscled' but still couldn't meaningfully damage him through his armor. Courage and Honour
  
• Tanks but is not unscathed by T'au pulse weapons Courage and Honour
  
• Gets stabbed by a sword which had simultaneously cut through two space marines at once earlier and then is kicked by a battlesuit which had crushed space marine armor and bones and is only somewhat injured Courage and Honour
  
• Tanks a heavy caliber bullet Courage and Honour
  
• Is shot thrice in a combat zone where 'all but the most heavily armored' would have died in an instant Courage and Honour
  
• Runs straight through a flamethrower Courage and Honour
  
• Tanks several shots from T'au weapons Courage and Honour
  
• Is injured from being repeatedly punched by a Space Marine berserker with a spiked gauntlet The Chapter's Due
  
• Has an extended brawl with another Space Marine The Chapter's Due
  
• Gets shot in the head by a bolt pistol and is KOed and loses his eye in the process. The Chapter's Due
  
  • They mention this bolt shot did NOT arm properly. It's not implicit if Uriel would have lived or not if it did arm properly.
• Tanks a beating from another Space Marine The Chapter's Due
  
• Tanks a punch from Honsou The Chapter's Due
  
  • Honsou is strong enough to rip the arms off other Space Marines and crush their chests with a stomp
• Gets slammed into a sarcophagus by Honsou and is injured badly enough where he doesn't stand up until assisted by the ghost of an ancient ultramarine hero and his friend](https://i.imgur.com/bFLgVS3.png) The Chapter's Due
  
• Gets buried by the rubble of an explosion but manages to live despite plural tons of rubble being on top of him and then frees himself The Chapter's Due
  
• Lands with enough force to shatter rock but takes no appreciable damage from it The Chapter's Due
  
• Survived the Rubicon Primaris and became stronger Swords of Calth
  
• Six seconds in a gunship crash and is already recovering Swords of Calth
  
• No-sells Flayed One claws Swords of Calth
  
• A claw gets through a weak spot which then just heals quickly anyways Swords of Calth
  
• Cracked bones heal mid-fight Swords of Calth
  
• Gets cut by a shard of the Nightbringer but rapidly begins to heal Swords of Calth
  

Speed

• Avoids a bayonet thrust from a normal person while killing another Chains of Command
  
• Kills four people while performing various actions in 3 seconds Chains of Command
  
• Gets up and starts running before the shockwave of an explosion can disappear Chains of Command
  
• As a child Gets elbowed in the face during a race and then gets back up and runs past several people despite a bloody nose Nightbringer
  
• Dodges an Eldar stabbing him Nightbringer
  
• Has an extended fight with an opponent moving at 'preternatural' speed Nightbringer
  
• Same opponent as before, but wins this time Nightbringer
  
• Avoids heavy bolter fire Nightbringer
  
• Still manages to avoid an Ork swing despite being surprised at the Ork being still alive Leviathan
  
• Dodges axe swings from an Ork Leviathan
  
• Dodges swings from an Ork warboss who was 'surprisingly fast' Leviathan
  
• Hits targets moving at 'inhuman' speeds Leviathan
  
• Kills dozens of Tyranids mid-sprint Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Avoids a blow from a Carnifex+ size Tyranid guardian organism Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Dodges las-bolts Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Killing 30 people in 4 minutes is considered a bad job by his standards Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Frees himself from a knife in less time than for it to stab another centimeter into his flesh Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Dodges a blow from another Space Marine Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Barely avoids a blow from a Possessed Space Marine that was bolter timing Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
  • Is much slower than this dude
• Dodges a halberd swing from a mutant Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Claims he can kill a woman before she can halfway draw a sword The Killing Ground
  
• Dodges a Tau pulse rifle shot Courage and Honour
  
• Dodges a surprise T'au battlesuit from behind Courage and Honour
  
• Dodges high caliber shells Courage and Honour
  
• Dodges a battlesuit punch Courage and Honour
  
• Dodges a Space Marine's axe swing and cuts him in half Courage and Honour
  
• Avoids shrapnel The Chapter's Due
  
• Reacts to attacks from bolter timers, but admits he is 'monstrously outclassed' The Chapter's Due
  
• Repeatedly tags his opponent from above however The Chapter's Due
  
• Blocks and parries blows from an opponent who attacks in blurs but many go through The Chapter's Due
  
• Blocks a blow from someone who is moving way faster than anyone should be capable of in power armor The Chapter's Due
  
• Avoids bolter shots The Chapter's Due
  
• An observer notes Space Marines are inhumanly fast and graceful Swords of Calth
  
• His speed is inhuman and his mind is 'numinous' Swords of Calth
  
• Not sure how literal Seconds passing seems like hours Swords of Calth
  
• Dodges a Necron gauss beam Swords of Calth
  
• Dodges and parries the blow of an opponent that is 'inhumanly' fast Swords of Calth
  
  • This opponent is however faster

Skill

• Honsou, a veteran Iron Warrior lord admits Ventris would beat him 1v1 Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Makes six headshots while running fullstop Swords of Calth
  
• His post-transformation makes him more precise than the company champion Swords of Calth
  
• Presumably blocks blows from a faster opponent with just skill Swords of Calth
  
• Thinks he can beat the same type of opponent later despite a speed advantage and no other tangible stat advantages Swords of Calth
  

Willpower

• Resists horrific visions being pressed into his mind by the Nightbringer Nightbringer
  
• Continues to do so Nightbringer
  
• Resists the influence of the Nightbringer shard despite being face to face with it Nightbringer
  
• Resists the Nightbringer shard actively pressing into his mind, and even so much as intimidates it into backing off by threatening to blow up something it wanted Nightbringer
  
• Is subjected horrific visions and the natural insanity inducing aspects of the warp and emerges fine Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Insanity inducing architecture doesn't have an effect on him or his brothers Swords of Calth
  
• Outwillpowers the Nightbringer shard Swords of Calth
  
  • This enables him to land the killing shot

Senses

• Can see past 30 meters in heavy rain Chains of Command
  
• Smells enemy soldiers from a distance Chains of Command
  
• Can see a distant shoreline from atop a mountain Nightbringer
  
• Can hear cries of pain from 100+ meters away Warriors of Ultramar
  
• His armor's auto-senses can detect a chamleon-creature Warriors of Ultramar
  
• His armor also offers aim-assist Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Can filter out noises and hone in on things he wants/needs to hear The Killing ground
  
• His helmet's targeting is synced with his weapon's Courage and Honour
  
• His helmet's vision is able to point out general locations of invisible targets Courage and Honour
  
• Bionic Eye During the events of Chapter's Due, Uriel is shot in the head and loses his eye in the process. His new bionic eye enables him to see more colors, better spatial awareness, better aim and even functions as a camera and recorder. The Chapter's Due
  
• Bionic Eye Gives him an awful lot of information in addition to the above stated The Chapter's Due
  
• Bionic Eye Uses heat-based vision to see incoming infantry The Chapter's Due
  
• Bionic Eye It can interface and link with vehicles he's also using The Chapter's Due
  
• Can see and hear people in sniper's range away from him. Swords of Calth
  

Stealth

• Moves quietly despite his size Chains of Command
  
• Kills completely quietly Chains of Command
  

Wargear

• Bolt Pistol Explodes two people's heads Chains of Command
  
• Bolt Pistol Explodes another man's head Chains of Command
  
• Bolt Pistol Kills enemy Space Marines Chains of Command
  
• Bolt Pistol Kills two Eldar Nightbringer
  
• Bolt Pistol + Powersword More Eldar kills Nightbringer
  
• Bolt Pistol Shoots through a Tyranid drop pod and injures the creature inside Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Bolt Pistol Kills two Tyranid creatures which are unspecified to what type (probably Termagants?) Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Bolt Pistol Blasts apart swarms of hormogaunts Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Bolt Pistol Breaks another Space Marine's weapon by shooting it The Chapter's Due
  
• Bolter Kills Orks Leviathan
  
• Bolter Kills Genestealers Leviathan
  
• Bolter Blasts the brains out of a Tyranid warrior Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Bolter Blows off a man's head Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Bolter Blows up a T'au soldier's chest and shoulders with a single shot Courage and Honour
  
• Bolter Damages a T'au stealth suit and prevents it from stealthing again Courage and Honour
  
• Bolter Guns down Space Marine Berserkers The Chapters Due
  
• Bolter One-taps a Space Marine Berserker The Chapters Due
  
• Boltstorm Gauntlet Blows up the heads of six necrons Swords of Calth
  
• Powersword Captain Idaeus (the previous owner) uses it to decapitate a normal human Chains of Command
  
• Powersword Captain Idaeus chops through a Night Lord Space Marine Chains of Command
  
• Powersword Captain Idaeus stabs through a Night Lord Space Marine Chains of Command
  
• Powersword Again Chains of Command
  
• Powersword Chops through an Eldar from neck to groin Nightbringer
  
• Powersword Easily cuts through a flesh monster Nightbringer
  
• Powersword Chops through a big Ork in two Leviathan
  
• Powersword Slices through two Orks Leviathan
  
• Powersword More Leviathan
  
• Powersword Stabs in an Ork warboss Leviathan
  
• Powersword Brutalizes the fuck out of an Ork warboss Leviathan
  
• Powersword Chops through a genestealer Leviathan
  
• Powersword More Leviathan
  
• Powersword Chops through two Tyranid creatures (presumably Termagants) at the same time Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Powersword Slashes through a hormagaunt Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Powersword Slashes through multiple hormagaunts Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Powersword Chops through a 3 meter tall Tyranid warrior and then stabs through its skull. The same warrior creature was tanking bolt shells from earlier Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Powersword Cuts into a carnifex Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Powersword Chops through an awful lot of Tyrannids Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Powersword More of the above Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Powersword Stabs through the head of a swarm leader (presumably a hive tyrant) Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Powersword Chops through Tyranids of undescribed size Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Powersword Chops through the tentacles and legs of a Tyranid organism described to be bigger than a carnifex Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Powersword Chops through the midsection of said Tyranid Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Powersword Stabs through another Tyranid warrior Warriors of Ultramar
  
• Powersword Hacks apart two mutants Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Powersword Kills another Space Marine Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Powersword Cuts into the armor of Honsou (one of the head honchos of the Iron Warriors) Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Powersword Repeatedly stabs and tag-teams a Savage Mortician who is large enough to be using space marine+ sized weapons and kills him Dead Sky, Black Sun
  
• Powersword Decapitates a Kroot Courage and Honour
  
• Powersword Stabs through a T'au warrior Courage and Honour
  
• Powersword Chops through a T'au soldier from pelvis to collarbone Courage and Honour
  
• Powersword Chops through a T'au battlesuit Courage and Honour
  
• Powersword Again Courage and Honour
  
• Powersword And Again Courage and Honour
  
• Powersword He chops through a lot of battlesuits Courage and Honour
  
• Powersword Cuts through T'au stealth suits which earlier were able to tank bolter rounds Courage and Honour
  
• Powersword MORE BATTLESUIT CUTS Courage and Honour
  
• Powersword Chops through a mostly metal servitor (cyborg) The Chapter's Due
  
• Powersword Offscreen stabs through a Berserker The Chapter's Due
  
• Powersword Cuts an enemy space marine in half The Chapter's Due
  
• Powersword Again The Chapter's Due
  
• Powersword Chops through Daemons The Chapter's Due
  
• Powersword Slices through six necrons at the same time Swords of Calth
  
• Powersword And then a seventh Swords of Calth
  
• Powersword Stabs through an unmentioned amount of Necrons Swords of Calth
  
• Powersword Cuts through the neck of a Skorpekh Destroyer Swords of Calth
  
• Powersword Repeated attacks do minor damage to the Nightbringer shard Swords of Calth
  
• Power Knife Chops through a Necron warrior Nightbringer
  
• Chainsword + Bolt pistol Chops and shoots through people Nightbringer
  
• Chainsword + Bolt pistol Chops through an awful lot of people Nightbringer
  
• Chainsword Chops through enemy soldiers Nightbringer
  
• Chainsword Chops through a Necron warrior Nightbringer
  
• Grenades Blows up a bunch of Tyranids with some Warriors of Ultramar
  

Misc

• His armor monitors his health functions Courage and Honour

I needed somewhere to talk about this, and thought this would be the best place. I had to go to the ER for my asthma. I’ve had “sport-induced” asthma since I was a child but it never needed more than a rescue inhaler. This time, it didn’t work. All day, and the day before I tried using it and tried allergy medication (Zyrtec, nasal sprays, you name it) And I feel quite… traumatized? I arrived at the ER and had a standing HR of 160, and was rushed inside for an EKG where my heart stayed at 120-130 range for the duration of my stay+some. After that I was given IV, with methylprednisolone, magnesium sulfate, two rounds of nebulizer, and they took blood. It still wasn’t improving “that” much, even though I felt better. So, they ordered a contrast CT for my lungs because they thought I had a pulmonary embolism. THAT was terrifying. I thought I was going to die—and I know how that sounds. I know it’s dramatic but there was such a bone chilling feeling that at any moment something could happen and I would have to implicitly trust every person in that room not to let me die. The CT came back clear and the final diagnosis was exacerbated asthma. The doctor said it was a build up and I have been having the attack for days most likely.
I went home with 3 new medications and the steroids are making me insane. All at once my entire life just turned on it’s side. I had to make dr appts and referrals and track my meds, and somehow rest? I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck—mentally and physically.
I’m scared to go outside, don’t want it to happen again but don’t want it to rule my life. How do you move past it? The fear like you’re dangling your legs over the side of the cliff just waiting to fall. All of a sudden I’ve become a tremendous financial burden to my whole family. To my kids. How do you cope?

Species: Cat Age: 9+ (vets all give ranges) Sex/N?: M/Yes Breed: Likely Inbred Shorthair Tuxedo Body Weight: 8lbs
History: Origin before shelter unknown. No previous medical issues other than dust allergies. Once spent almost a month pretending to have a sprained leg.
Clinical signs: Lethargy, no appetite, vomiting foamy green bile Duration: No appetite for three days, lethargy for two, vomit twice in three hours
Attempted to administer half a tapeworm dewormer pill was three days ago. He hated it. Crushed the other half and put it in the Good Boy bowl with cold chicken broth mix thinking it would help. Here we are.

I’m having surgery soon and I actively have BV. I asked my surgeon 3 weeks ago if having BV would halt my surgery and they said it would be fine. Here I am, two courses of antibiotics later, and my symptoms are back.
Idk if my doctor understood my question, ie if they thought I was asking if a recent infection was in issue, rather than an active one. I’ve taken diflucan after each antibiotic round, it’s definitely not a yeast infection (I also initially only tested positive for BV).
Reading online didn’t help, now I’m convinced I’ll get PID from the BV getting into my uterus via the hysteroscope. Wtf am I going to do?! If I cancel the surgery (which will be multiple times now due to things beyond my control), I won’t be able to have the surgery for months. I feel stuck between a rock and a hard place. I’m so stressed out, and physically miserable.

13 year old, spayed female dsh cat, ~ 8.25lbs. Takes credelio monthly, and gets solensia injections every 28-30 days. Also gets 1/2 tablet Chlorpheniramine (4mg/tablet) BID - just started this week & tresaderm currently. On purina UR food.
Hello everyone, I work at a vet clinic and my cat Lilly has been a bit if a mystery lately. She's been receiving solensia injections for approximately 5 months I believe. She's had 3+ incidents of random scabbing/lesions in the past few months (once on neck, and at least two now on her head). All scabs were approx dime sized. The one on her neck I had clipped & cleaned and she was given injections of depo & covenia. While she was knocked out for the clip/clean, we did a cytology on her ear - and found an ear infection which was treated with tresaderm. We assumed she had caught her neck while trying to scratch her ear, and it had gotten infected.
She's now had several large scabs on her head. We thought possibly allergies and started her on chlorpheniramine, even though she's never seemed overly itchy. I did another cytology on her ear, and there was rare yeast, so we're currently doing another round of tresaderm. I was doing a bit more reading on solensia and noticed one of the listed side effects were scabbing on the head/neck.
Just wondering if anyone has seen anything like this on their patients who are being given solensia? We plan on contacting zoetis tomorrow, but was curious if anyone had noticed possible reactions like this in their patients. It's a newer drug to our clinic, so we haven't seen much in terms of possible adverse reactions.

So for context, the reason I say mystery illness is because in January I didn’t have insurance and couldn’t see a doctor. My wife had the same illness and I believe she was just diagnosed with a respiratory infection…
So my main issue I think stems from the fact my left nostril is seemingly always fully clogged (right nostril seems like it’s about at 50-75%). Sometimes when I take a breath I can see my left nostril kind of closing in on itself and like pinching itself shut (stemming from being clogged)?
I went to one doctor in February and she said my oxygen levels were fine and told me to use two sprays of Flonase in each nostril each morning. No help. Went to another doctor about a month ago and he stated I had rhinitis and prescribed Singulair and said to continue the Flonase.
Here I am a month later and I still feel like I can’t breathe and sometimes catch my breath. Any time I go to stairs or do a cardio intensive workout I turn into a mouth breather and sometimes find it hard to catch my breath (doctor prescribed a rescue inhaler so that’s good to have). Thought some of my issues may be related to weight so I’ve made lifestyle changes (lifting weights 3 times per week and 3 days of HIIT workouts, dietary changes, and they have me on Wegovy), but it still doesn’t help that feeling of my nose being constantly clogged. No history of allergies. No history of asthma. Just kind of at a loss at this point of why I can’t breathe.
Thank you for any advice in advance!

TLDR (bold text only) - Going to be offered a job (verbal offer below) and recruiter is telling me there is no room to negotiate, I don't fully believe her and am now filling out the official application form for onboarding purposes on which one of the questions asks about my salary and overall compensation package requirements. I don't want to make any requests that will potentially result in losing my offer. What to do?!?
Long time lurker and first time poster here.. I've been in the same situation as many others in this sub in regards to having been looking for a job for months and after sending 200+ applications, 15+ Interviews, ghosted by many recruiters, and a horrible call centre experience with a less than ethical credit processing company; I have finally been told today that I would be getting an offer from a great employer for a job I am really excited about. GREAT!
I'm so happy about this news, it took me 4 rounds of interviews, of which after interview #3 I was told they would not be moving forward with my candidacy. I went back the the recruiter (I am working with an agency) and requested an re-do interview due to the interviewer not having conducted a professional interview (they were in the car and most definitely not in interview mode), which they secured for me. Now after interview #4 which was a panel with the three interviewers I had met with over the last few weeks I was contacted by the recruiter shortly after and advised that I would be receiving an offer. All in all I've put between 15-20 hours of work into this process from my first contact with this agency.
At this point, I am now being asked to fill out the hiring company's application form so that they can begin onboarding even though I have not yet received the official offer. They are also telling me that we do not have very much negotiating power as the employer is offering the "top range" for this position, and is encouraging me to take whatever they offer me so I can get my foot in the door, citing this positions growth potential. I informed this agency at the beginning of the process that my desired salary range was 45k-55k, and they presented my salary expectations to the employer as 45k.
This is what I was verbally told I would be offered: 45k, 2 weeks vacation, insurance after 90 days, rrsp contribution, and eligible for tuition reimbursement after 1 year.
This position is an "entry level" sales support role at a medium-large company in the telecommunications industry in Canada and I am applying with 5+ yrs of relevant experience.
I would really like to make closer to 50k with this role, however this has been an incredibly grueling job searching process that I don't want to do anything that cold result in my offer being rescinded. I would be willing to accept the lower end of my range in exchange for more PTO and the employer releasing the benefits on day 1. In my last conversation with the recruiter she informed me that this position would not offer more vacation time due to being entry level, which conflicts with what I was told from this agency during the early stages which is that if they weren't able to secure a higher salary, they would go for more pto/vacation.
I'm currently in the process of filling out the (very long) application form I was provided with and one of the questions is "What are your salary requirements/desired overall compensation?"
I feel like this is my chance to tell the employer the kind of package I would like to receive and give them the chance to meet as many of my requirements as they can considering they have not yet made an offer. I know that if I ask the recruiter about it they're going to tell me to put salary expectations that reflect what they've been communicating to me, and I don't wanna rock the boat here, but I also feel like after going through this incredibly involved application process, and being told the employer will be putting forth an offer I should have some ground to stand on now that we are at the stage where I can put forth my requirements.
I know how bad the current market it and I am well aware that offers do get rescinded and I must reiterate that *I do not want this offer to get rescinded*, however I am getting the feeling that part of the reason the recruiter is so eager to fast-track me onboard is so that they can secure their payment from the company. They have informed me that any countenegotiations to the initial offer would need to go through head office in the US where I could be required to do an HR interview, this seems another tactic to scare me into taking the first offer but truly, I feel confident I could successfully complete the HR interview and would be happy to if it means securing my ideal package so long as it doesn't lead to my offer being rescinded!!
I have a one week (5 days) vacation booked at the beginning of August which I have not said anything about to anyone yet as I did not want it to affect me receiving an offer, but now that we are at the stage that I need to disclose it I am starting to feel that anything I ask for in addition to the standard package is gonna put my offer in jeopardy. I would really like if someone with more experience could weigh in here, what is the appropriate way of dealing with the situation I've described and what is a reasonable compensation package to request for this role that the employer is likely to agree to?
Happy to answer any additional questions, thanks people!

So I'm a trans woman, honnestly I probably thought way too hard and long if I should post this in this sub or a trans one. But I am 28mtf. (Married and with kids)
I came out as being trans Oct 2022 and started hrt Feb 17 2013 for reference.
Well, as for the reason of this post I guess. It's about my mother (she's my grandmother but I call her mom, she entered my life when I was 3 has has raised me)
I think our relashonship is on the rocks, ever since I came out she has said so many horrible things to me that I do not want to repeat, like really really horrible things.
A few months ago I asked her if I could take her legal middle name (I have a court date for name change next month) and she said yes, but with all the comments she has made I decided to distance myself alittle bit. I ended up using another middle name and not hers, and she found out a few weeks ago and freaked out on me. She told me that I abandoned her over a small dispute and basically "turned my back on my family" but to be honnest the way I was treated I almost changed my last name too.
We went out the other day just me and my mom/grandmother, child and wife and had fun and to be honnest, it was nice.
But whenever she thinks of my gender(me being trans) If I wear makeup or a purse, or wear a skirt or anything she considers feminine it's like all hell breaks loose, to the point she said she wouldn't "fight" me anymore and she gives up.
She tells me I can't be a woman(even trans) And that she won't try to not Deadname me, and will keep using he/him/sir, like she won't even try And I understand names slips up sometimes or mistakes in general happens, because it does. It happens. But it's like she won't even try and I feel like our relationship is dying over it. It's to the point if were together we won't even really talk to each other, and it's so toxic.
I tried to talk with her about this, and she just denies everything I have to say.
A few weeks ago I got my first blood test results for my estrogen levels (they were kind of low so later my doctor upped my dosages) But she found out about my bloodtest and she said "hah, so your not a real woman" and I was like okay, ouch.
I just, I don't know what to do anymore. I love her, I do. But it's like every time my gender comes up, all hell breaks loose.
Also for context, I've always had signs as being trans. Even when I was a toddler. Growing up I've been really to busy to explore myself or my gender and what not. Mostly though I've been in denial. I saw out a therapist. I found a clinic. I started hrt. I am legally a female on my birth certificate, and my government ID. And I have a court date early next month to change my name legally. I've been through alot. And I had to rush the legal stuff because my state just banned gender marker changes and name changes for trans people including along other list of anti laws recently.
I've never felt better finnaly being able to be myself. And for the first time in my life, I can say I no longer want to unalive myself.
I deal with alot of bad stuff like, stereotypes and general hatered. But I've never been happier with my life.
It's just that, I wish it wasn't killing my relashonship with my grandmothemom. And I don't know what I can do if anything.
Thanks for reading and sorry if I'm rambling.

Hello, Im 23F and Im staring to date again after a failed 2 year relationship. I've been seeing this man 27M for 2 months we went on 3 dates, rock climbing, bowling and a homemade dinner at his place. On our third date (dinner date) I casually asked what he was looking for in a relationship. he was a little vague and said in his past relationship they moved too fast. At the end of the night he asked me if i wanted to sleep over. Keep in mind we haven't even kissed just held hands. I took that as a sign that he wanted to hookup, especially with what he said earlier about taking it slow. I let him know i dont do sleep overs.
ill keep the following short and sweet. Our next date was a double date i planned with a few of my friends. I had a really long day but didn't want to cancel since i planned this date. the beginning was smooth. then it felt like all we were talking about was school and college hours on end. I dropped out of college when i was 19 there is only so much i can relate. ( He has a PHD) i let this get the best of me and acted a bit insecure. I genuinely didn't feel any effort from them to make me feel included in the conversation. I was a few drinks in & decided i didn't want to stick around anymore (it was 2am) I was bothered by how the night was going and called an uber home. He tried giving me a hug on the way out and i declined. Afterwards he and my friend and her BF went out to go eat
The next day i realized the way i acted wasn't the best, i was a little rude and insecure. My first instinct was to push him away. I messaged him and let him know I was sorry if i was rude. And suggested it might be best we call dating quits and just be friend. He said he really enjoyed the time we spend together but he thinks a long term relationship might not be sustainable cause we dont bring each other out of our shells enough.
Fast forward 2 weeks he invites me my friend and her bf to a bar crawl with a few of his friends. Towards the end of the night we end up alone and he asks why i was mad on our last date. Before i can explain my friend and her bf join and we change the subject. The next day he swings by my pace to drop off my sunglasses we accidently swapped while drinking. Followed by a message saying this was the highlight of his week.
A month later he asks me for some advise on thrift stores. We text a bit and I casually invite him to a drive in movie with me after a friend rain checked on me. The night was great. I thought we were genuinely just friends. He didn’t make any moves. I felt like we were on the right foot again. When we drove up to his place he invited me in for a drink. I accepted, we talked a lot. Once i suggested it was late and i needed to head out he asked if i wanted to cuddle. Im extremely attracted to this guy. I accepted and then cuddles turned into our first kiss and that escalated to having sex.
The sex was a little awkward but great, he took it slow gave me eskimo kisses, it felt very romantic. He asked me if it was okay when he undressed me and asked if i wanted to do it. first round didnt last long he told me it had been a while for him. We spooned afterwards.
Would you think hes into me seriously or maybe just after the chase. Are my insecurity's red flags?

Transmission
by Brian Martinez
Let me start my story by telling you something about me, the most important thing, in fact: I find things, and I fix them. That’s who I am. If you don’t know that, you don’t know me.
I’m a second-generation auto mechanic, born-and-bred. I’ve been repairing cars since before Ford Pintos were blowing up, when cars were made of steel and Route 66 wasn’t just something for the cartoons. These days I’m fortunate enough to own a shop downtown between two of those chain coffee places. It’s small, sure, but it has a reputation for saving cars so far-gone no one else will even touch ‘em. So if you live in the area, and you’ve ever been stuck with the sourest of lemons, or maybe your kid drove your minivan into the pool, we just might have crossed paths, you and I.
That reputation is what led to me getting a phone call from a guy I’d never met, saying he had something that might interest me. His name was Burt and he’d apparently just purchased a piece of property that sat unowned for the better part of twenty years. I knew of the area he was talking about. It’s out in the hills, where there isn’t much to look at. Most of the land there went to weed years ago; acres and acres of old woods and burnt-down barns just waiting for nobody in particular to see the value in them. And, well, it seems Burt was that nobody in particular.
I honestly didn’t know what Burt’s purchase had to do with me, and told him just that, figuring he must have had the wrong number. But the next words out of his mouth told me he knew exactly who he was talking to.
Apparently when old Burt started walking around his new property, digging around in the dirt, so to speak, he made an interesting discovery. So interesting, in fact, that it got me to grab my keys, hop in my truck, and drive up into the hills without so much as a pause to wash my hands.
Some things, you see, don’t wait for a man to look presentable.
As I drove up into the hills to meet Burt, I started to think about my father and the drives he used to take me on. He liked to get a feel for whichever car he was working on, and those drives, they always ended with a detour into the hills. ‘Nothing tests a vehicle like elevation,’ he used to say, and I have to admit, I still agree with that statement. All those long inclines, sharp turns and fast descents- not to mention the occasional slam on the brakes- really put a car through its paces.
Dad knew a thing or two about cars, even if he knew nothing about how to raise a family.
Other than maybe a slight fear of commitment, the main thing I got from my father was a passion for restoring old cars in my spare time. It’s a hobby of mine, and I do it in the garage at my house. I’m especially a sucker for rare cars, and the rarer the better. That little hobby of mine, more so than my day business, was why I ended up driving out to the middle of nowhere with dirty hands and a head full of ideas.
The road up was just as long and winding as I remembered. I almost missed the entrance for the property, a hidden driveway marked with little more than a broken mailbox and a rotting signpost. The private road got smaller and smaller by the minute until I swore the trees were going to swallow me whole and spit the bones back out.
When I finally reached what could pass for a clearing, a guy with a face like a junkyard dog was waiting for me next to the newest, cleanest Ford pick-up I’d seen outside of a dealership. He introduced himself to me as Eddie, an associate of old Burt. I told him I’d been expecting to meet Burt himself, but Eddie explained that Burt didn’t like to meet new people, and rarely came out in the cold weather. It was a bit raw, I had to admit, so I dropped the whole thing and let Eddie get down to the business at hand.
We left our cars behind and Eddie led me into the woods, where the walking was slow-going on account of the overgrowth of vines and dead branches. I’m not one to spook easily, but the more we walked the creepier those woods got, until I was fairly sure Eddie was going to use that French Mastiff face of his to tear my throat out. But just when I was thinking about turning back and saying screw it to the whole thing, I caught sight of what we’d come for.
The very first car I saw was a white, 1974 Pontiac Trans-Am. It was missing its door and tires, and it was buried under a layer of dead vines, but the body shape was unmistakable. Under the rust I could even see what was left of the telltale Firebird emblazoned across its hood in blue.
I couldn’t believe a car like that was just sitting out in the middle of the woods, waiting for anyone to come along and find it. As I got closer, though, I saw just how bad the condition of the car was. The insides were rotted out from rain and mold, and the floor was so eaten up by rust it was ready to fall out.
Before my brain could process the loss of such a beautiful machine, I caught sight of another car. This one was a Datsun 210 with a tree growing right through the hole where its trunk used to be. Wet leaves and newspaper filled the back seat, and the dashboard was an abandoned nest that crawled with leggy insects.
Old Burt hadn’t been pulling my leg: those woods were a graveyard for abandoned cars. From what I could tell, about three acres of woods were absolutely littered with the corpses of old autos. Some were in pieces, most were covered in dead leaves and rust and all the other things that happen when anything is left outside for years and years, but they were there. The sight of so many classic cars in one place, virtually unknown to anyone, both excited and saddened me.
For close to an hour I walked around random piles of tires and glass to stare at rusted-out Range Rovers and Jeeps with their headlights hanging out like popped eyeballs. Finally, like I’d woken up from a spell, I asked Eddie what Burt expected from me. And that’s when he told me the strangest, most interesting offer he could have told me in that moment.
He said if I could make every, single one of those cars disappear in three day’s time, at no cost to old Burt, I could keep them.
The words nearly knocked me off my feet. I’d have to call in every favor to every salvage yard and tow truck operator I knew, but it was possible. Still, nearly all of the cars I’d seen were beyond repair, even for a guy like me. At most I saw some parts that could be salvaged. Maybe a few of the newer, less damaged ones could be saved. I knew a few guys in my circle who might be interested, and I figured if I played my cards right I could make a few bucks out of the deal to boot- or at least land a good trade or two. Still, there weren’t any cars that I was interested in for myself.
Until, at the edge of the property, tucked away in a spot I’d nearly overlooked, I saw it. It was as if I’d been drawn there. Like I was meant to find it.
The car was familiar-looking, yet like nothing I’d ever seen. Cross a Chevelle Malibu Classic SE with the modern retro feel of the ‘97 Plymouth Prowler, add the large rear spoiler and flared wheel arches of a ‘99 Nissan Skyline GT-R, and you still won’t come close. It looked like something one of the big three manufacturers had made and yet I’d never seen or heard of its like ever before. It had no logos, no hood ornament, no identification of any kind. I practically ran around to the back of it to look for a name, a logo, something to identify it, tripping over hidden rocks and broken glass to do it.
But there was nothing. Nothing to betray the make and mark of the strange car in front of me. I even asked Eddie if he knew what it was. He only shrugged, clearly wanting to wrap up our little outdoor meeting. I half-heartedly agreed. It was later than I’d realized. Between the dwindling sun and the discovery I’d made, I’d started to get a chill I couldn’t shake. I had a bad tooth I’d been neglecting, and even that was starting to hurt from the cold.
So I agreed to Burt’s deal. I shook Eddie’s hand on it and got out of there, giving one last glance at the strange car in the woods on the way out.
The next day, after making more phone calls than a politician on election night, a swarm of flatbeds, wheel-lifts and salvage trucks descended on those woods. For two days they scooped out every piece of metal and glass in the place, while I oversaw the operation like a choir conductor from hell. I directed trucks this way and cutting crews that way. They snipped and cut and tore out every dead tree standing in the way so the truck crews could do the rest. I even got in there myself with the old chainsaw when it was needed.
It was an exhausting two days, but I managed to keep my word to Burt and clear every abandoned car off his property with about an hour to spare. Some of the cars went to the junkyard, others to various garages I’d made arrangements with.
I was dead on my feet by the time I got home. I was ready for a shower and a bed, in what order I wasn’t sure. And yet a crackle of energy went through me when I saw what had been dropped off in my garage.
My mystery car. Without the shadows of the woods hiding it, I could see it had been painted silver before the rust took over. It had been a fast sucker once, like a bullet to a werewolf’s chest. That had been a long time ago, and yet I sensed there was still some life in the old girl. I wanted so badly to start digging around under the hood, to see what I could find out, but my legs were ready to collapse and my eyes could barely focus. Intending to wake up early and hit the garage, I stumbled off to bed.
You know that feeling you get when you realize someone’s been talking to you for the past minute, thinking you’ve been listening, and you only just figured it out?
That’s the feeling I woke up to.
I sat straight up like a vampire rising from his coffin. My bedroom was still dark, which meant it was the middle of the night. In my half-sleep I tried to make out the clock on my nightstand but couldn’t read the numbers, so I fumbled for my glasses and shoved them on. It was just past two in the morning: way too early, even for me. No way was I getting up, strange feeling or no.
I was about to take my glasses off and lay back down when I heard the reason I’d woken up.
Whispering.
A man was in my room, whispering in the dark. I lunged across my bed and turned on the lamp, nearly knocking it over. I didn’t have a weapon, but if I could see the intruder I could do something about it. I spun back, back to the whispering, to see who it was, to shout at them or jump on them, whatever I had to do to save my life from the psycho in my bedroom.
But the room was empty. Just me and a pounding heart.
I was so confused, I jumped out of bed and tore around the room, making sure no one was hiding, but I didn’t find anyone. I was alone.
Then I heard it again, and I knew: the whispers were coming from down the hall.
With bare feet I followed it, trying to make out what it was saying, but it was too low to understand. I grabbed a knife as I passed through the kitchen and held it in front of me with sweat beading on my face despite how cold I kept the house.
I followed the whispering to the garage. The overhead light flickered on, lighting up the strange car in my garage. In my half-sleep, half-terror I’d nearly forgotten about it. But there it was, like a bear hibernating in its cave, waiting for the end of winter. It felt alive somehow. Not dead, just asleep and dreaming.
And it was whispering.
I knew how crazy that sounded, how crazy that was, but I swallowed hard and approached the car, knife first. The blade shook in front of me. The whispering got louder the closer I got, and yet I still couldn’t understand the words it was saying. Was someone hiding inside the car? Had I inherited a homeless man when I’d had it towed to my house? If so I had to get him out of there. Get him help, sure, make sure he had a place to sleep, but he couldn’t stay in my garage, whispering through the night. No way.
With my free hand I yanked on the driver’s side door. It didn’t open. Rusted shut. I slowly walked around to the passenger side and yanked again. It opened.
The whispering was louder now, louder but not clearer, like an old television tuned between channels, like a frequency not being picked up, like a…
Like a radio.
The whispers were coming from the radio. I laughed under my breath, realizing how ridiculous I’d been. But then I remembered there was no way the radio could be working. The car wasn’t turned on. If it even had a battery under the hood, it was probably little more than a square pile of rust and battery acid.
I clutched the kitchen knife tight, and with the other hand I slowly reached out to turn the volume knob. I needed to know if the whispers were coming from the radio, and if they were, I needed to know what they were saying. My temple throbbed as the whispers grew louder and louder, louder and louder, louder and-
The moment my finger touched the knob, the whispers stopped.
I felt like I was going crazy. I looked around the inside of the car, noting the strong smell of mildew and animal with a tinge of rotten leather. Other than my own breath echoing back at me, it was silent.
No whispers. No nothing.
I went back to bed, but I barely slept.
The next day was the day I usually took off from the shop, which was a relief since I woke up almost as tired as when I’d gone to bed. As I ate my breakfast, the night before still sat fresh in my mind. But the more I went over it, the more I thought it had been a bad dream, brought on by exhaustion and an imagination run wild. I had to admit the mystery car sitting in my garage had gotten my mind racing faster than a Formula 1.
I’m the kind of guy who likes a simple explanation, something I can touch and feel and, yes, fix, so I started to think that I could have picked up some kind of rogue radio transmission from a trucker, or even a passing plane. The police scanner I owned in my younger days had certainly picked up its share of random broadcasts, and when it comes to working on junkers I’ve learned to expect the unexpected.
After I’d eaten my breakfast and downed my coffee I got right to work on the car. I wanted to clear the air of whatever had happened, and I was dying to see what that baby had going on under the hood. The mystery of who the hell had made the thing was still heavy on me.
But the enigma only deepened the more I looked. Under all that rust and dirt and oil I couldn’t find one damn mark that told me who’d made the car. I almost wanted to say it was a custom build, but the work was too precise, the system too well-planned out to be an after-market job.
I worked on it all day, so wrapped up in it I forgot to eat lunch. I ate dinner like a raccoon digging through a dumpster. Then I worked on it some more.
I was just crawling into bed when I heard it again.
The whispering.
This time I ignored it, hoping it would go away on its own. But it didn’t stop. Not until I got up, walked across my house, went into the garage, and touched the radio. Then, it stopped.
I decided right then and there not to go to the shop the next day. There was just too much work to be done.
I’d been working on the car for four days straight before I got it started up. Four days of stripping and cleaning and rebuilding. Four nights of whispering. I was even starting to hear it during the day, but low, barely audible, like a television playing somewhere in the house.
After I got the engine started, the first thing I did was pull my code reader down from my tool wall and hook it up to the dashboard input. I’d been pleasantly surprised to find an input on the car, even though I was fairly certain it had been built after '96. To my shock the screen filled up with a bunch of random trouble codes I’d never seen before, then went blank. I tried to get it powered up again but apparently the connection had completely overloaded the device.
I’d had the reader for years and it had never given me a problem. I put it down and got back to the car, deciding to stick to the old-fashioned way and get a feel for what was wrong with it. Just like dad used to do.
With my foot on the gas I revved the engine good. It sounded better than I’d expected, like a beast waking up from deep sleep. But there was also something rattling around under the hood, something loose knocking around inside the carburetor or possibly even the manifold.
I tried a few options, opening up this and that, until I narrowed it down to something completely unexpected: the transmission.
With considerable force I managed to open up the transmission, and sure enough I found something inside. Something dark and red. I pulled it out and studied it under the light. It looked like a small rock covered in old transmission fluid. How it got in there I didn’t have a clue. But I decided to clean it off and get a better look at it, in case it pointed to a bigger problem. As I walked it to the slop sink, I noticed the whispering, usually a dull static during the day, had started to grow louder. I could almost make out individual words now. But I ignored it and ran the small rock under the faucet, watching the dark red fluid swirl down the drain.
That was when I discovered something I wasn’t prepared for. The thing in my hand wasn’t a rock- it was a tooth.
A human tooth.
The whispers had grown so loud I could barely hear myself think, barely feel the disgust rising in the pit of my stomach. With the whispers practically shouting in my ear I dropped the tooth and it bounced and clattered inside the sink, coming to a rest near the edge of the drain.
The whispers grew quiet again. A dull roar tickling at the back of my skull. I stared at it, the tooth in the sink, the impossible tooth from the impossible car. I had the urge to throw it out. To get it out of my house and never see it again. But I didn’t do that. I couldn’t tell you why not.
Maybe because that meant touching it again.
Maybe something else.
Feeling like I should give the car a rest, I worked on getting my code reader working again, otherwise I’d have to run to the store and buy a new one. I changed out the batteries and gave it a good, solid whack. A few seconds later I was happy to see the screen turn on. I thought I’d have to do a factory reset to use it again but I was surprised to find it worked perfectly fine. Not only that, the trouble codes it had read off the car were still stored in its memory.
There were pages and pages of codes like I’d never seen in my life, more than I think are even in the tool’s programming. In fact I couldn’t find a single one of them anywhere in the manual. I figured they were probably just random numbers, and yet there was something strange about them, like they had a pattern to them. I dusted off my old computer and typed in the problem codes, figuring if I could get a better look at them I might be able to figure out their meaning. If not, I could at least print them out and show them to somebody who could.
After twenty minutes I’d barely made a dent in typing up all the codes. I gave up on the idea that I could copy them all. I pushed away from my computer and stood up, rubbing my eyes from the strain. Between the glare of the old screen and the noise in my ears, my head was killing me. It all felt so pointless. So inconsequential.
Just before I shut the computer down, I happened to glance one last time at the screen. And when I did, I noticed something that made my skin go cold.
The codes. The pattern. The numbers and letters and spaces between them. They were starting to form a face. A human face, with two eyes and a screaming-
I shut the computer down as fast as I could, then unplugged it to be safe. Then I marched to the garage and disconnected the radio, practically ripping it out of the car.
The whispers stopped.
The house was quiet.
But not for long.
For three days I told myself to get rid of that car, tow it out of my garage and dump it somewhere no one could find it. Maybe even drench it in gasoline and light a match. For three days I ignored the whispers and the doorbell and the phone calls from my shop asking when I was coming back. For three days I buried my head under the hood and worked and worked and worked.
On the fourth day, when the whispers from the radio had grown louder than my own thoughts, louder but still unclear, without words I could understand, I lost it. I threw my wrench at the tool wall, knocking down chisels and socket wrenches and a dozen other tools clattering to the ground. I pounded on my ears, cursing them, willing them to go deaf and stop hearing the whispers.
But they didn’t stop hearing. And the whispers didn’t stop. So I decided. I decided that if I couldn’t stop hearing them, I at least needed to know what they were saying.
I went back to the slop sink. The tooth was still there, perched near the edge of the drain. I’d prayed for it to slip down and wash away on its own but there it was, round and sharp and real as ever. So I picked it up, and the whispers grew louder. Clearer. But still not clear enough to hear. Not enough to make out what the radio was saying. To understand what it wanted from me. It was like a broken antenna, only tuning in half the frequency.
The garage was a mess. I was a mess. Rancid grease stains everywhere. A hole in my tool wall where the wrench had struck it, the ground littered with hammers and screwdrivers and …
Pliers.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the pliers from the ground, shoved it onto my mouth, got a good hold of my bad tooth, and ripped it out. It was easier than I expected, but it still hurt, and it bled a lot. But I didn’t hesitate. I pushed the tooth I’d found in the transmission into its place.
The moment I did, it was as if everything came into focus. As if the radio was inside my skull. No, as if my skull was the radio, and I was the antenna. I could hear the transmission clear as day now, a man’s voice inside my head.
Whispering to me.
Telling me where to find the rest of him.
I told you all of this, not because I expect you to believe me, but because I’m about to walk out my door and do something I might not come back from. And if that’s the case, if I don’t return today or any other day from this thing I need to do, I want people to know why.
Because I find things. I find things and fix them. If you don’t know that, you don’t know me.

Has anyone had an experience good or bad with switching clinics? Any tips you’d give?
We have had 2 unsuccessful rounds of IVF with our current clinic in Ohio and we are currently contemplating switching to a clinic based in San Diego for a different opinion, based on where I work and recommendations from a friend. It’s a bit of a Hail Mary but I feel some gut feeling to try something different.

Signalment- dog, age 6, spayed female, mixed breed - cocker spaniel, Jack Russell, boxer, beagle, 38 pounds • Short history- has always had food allergy issues (affects her anal glands) so she has Royal Canin hp food (however this has gotten better since being on thyroid meds), issues with being a few pounds overweight for last couple of years even though fed normally with no table scraps (losing weight on thyroid meds) , had a mild bout of pancreatitis last summer after getting into bacon grease • Relevant clinical signs- other than usual clinical signs for low thyroid which have improved with meds, has a bump on lip that won’t seem to heal, seems almost like a shallow hole in lip once popping the bump but has been coming back for two weeks now • Length of time you have seen these changes- about 3 weeks • Your general location- western ny
My dog was recently diagnosed hypothyroidism.has been doing amazingly on the meds. Recently discovered a small bump on her left lip that was filled with pus- popped it and it bled a bit and all that was left was a slight hole. Continues to fill back with pus and won’t seem to get better after two weeks which seems unusual for a bump like this. Will check a couple days after I wipe it with a cloth and it will just be a dry, pus filled bump. About the size of a pen point, so relatively small. Curious if i should be worried or just let it go for a month or so.

First Previous Wiki
"I should not let you enter," the old man said, gazing unhappily at Phoebe standing beside Penny in her dream.
"Please. You're mind controlling her, so I think you would have stopped me if you wanted to,"
Phoebe replied.
"Not control. Humans don't 'control' the air, they breathe it. In the same way, I feed on Penny's psychic energy."
"I see. And when you said you had infinite power, what exactly did you mean?"
"I do. But my power is dead," Death said. "That is how I am."
"And you can exist in the psychic realm, but not the regular mindscape?"
"Sometimes."
"What defines those times?"
"It depends. People dying, obviously. About a quarter of all deaths in the galaxy aren't Sprilnav."
"A quarter?"
"Yes."
"So I assume they're killing themselves."
"Yes."
"And that energy isn't a constant influx?"
"Somewhat. It comes in both a trickle and waves. But I know you're going to ask more. The answer is that the Progenitors give conceptual protection to the Sprilnav. The further away a Sprilnav is from them in space, time, and more, the weaker they are. That is why Elders can survive impacts that could vaporize metal, not just their implants and psychic energy."
"Conceptual weight seems to feature heavily in your power," Phoebe said.
"It does."
"And you are a concept. If you fought Fate, for example, would you win?"
"Depending on what you mean by winning. Really, concepts cannot overcome each other."
Phoebe smiled. That meant that Death would want a way to do that. Probably the hivemind was the way. With that answer, she continued.
"Concepts cannot overcome each other? So you don't have a fate, and Fate can't die?"
"Not really."
"Can you die?"
"No."
"Does Fate have a fate?"
"I don't know. But really, there's no way I'll tell you that even if I find out."
"How many people have died?" Phoebe asked.
"Define people, and define death."
"People as in sentient and sapient beings, which are capable of thought and planning. Death as in the ceasing of characteristics of life such as the termination of blood or gaseous material within the living being, as well as the ceasing of psychic energy and brain activity within the being, for those that have some equivalent to brains."
"It is not specific. Quintillions, at least. A lot more, really. There's many that don't quite fit the condition. If you count the moments before the great war, you'd need exponents."
"We have numbers for that."
"Okay. Sprilnav deaths alone, even with the conceptual madness of the... what do they call it? The Source war. Yes. It's quite a lot," Death said.
"Give me a number, please."
"Fine. 39 undecillion."
Phoebe was silent. There were so many Sprilnav that it was stupid. Even thinking about the level of that fall was truly insane. And she assumed that during the fall, they had a very bad time. It would have been madness and anarchy with the added characteristic that everyone also had nukes and shields.
"There's more than the observable universe, you know."
"How many died in the aftermath of the Source war?"
Death frowned. "The numbers in terms of those who had already survived the war, but not the fall of civilization, are as follows. 1 in 30,000 Elders lived. 1 in 850,000 regular Sprilnav lived. Of those, 875 Sprilnav didn't end their lives."
"875 thousand? Million?"
"No. 875 normal Sprilnav, who were not Elders."
Phoebe thought that was sad. Basically, in the whole galaxy, every Sprilnav had died, at least statistically. The number alive right now, even still outnumbering the galaxy, was a rounding error. If what he said was true, the Source had killed more people than any other being, alive or dead. And that assumed there weren't any other civilizations of a similar scale to them.
She also didn't bother to ask how the Sprilnav population was now so large. Whether it was inbreeding or cloning didn't matter much. But it helped to explain why so many Elders were so crazy all the time. She needed to stay on task, however.
"Alright. Back to you. You're not a psychopomp?"
"No. I do not interfere with souls. I am the concept of death."
"So, do you get energy from stars blowing up?"
"That is not dying."
"But people believe that supernovae are the deaths of stars."
"That does not shift the concept itself."
That was interesting. So Death wasn't a belief harvester, then. Not the type that actually was shaped by the belief of sapient beings in their actions. Concepts existed and were finite and infinite in scope. Maybe some were truly finite. They could conflict with each other, and their influence would generate a weakening effect, like destructive interference with alternate types of waves. But that did not mean that was always so. Perhaps they could do the opposite.
It was likely that Death worked with Fate at least sometimes and that if Entropy existed, it was most concerned with the Sprilnav. Conceptual protection by the Progenitors was another interesting concept that she hoped to probe if Nova ever returned. She did have the feeling he was either doing everything for fun or entirely serious. He was certainly not quite there in the head after the experience that Death had shared with her.
But for conceptual beings like him, there were rules and regulations, perhaps bound by whatever absolute concept they fit within. Whether they were hard rules or not was unknown. Defined in their structure, but not their limits. And perhaps that meant there was more to figure out here."Interesting. And if you need to feed off psychic energy, why not use psychic amplifiers?"
"It's not the same quality. Humans don't drink pure water only; they drink it for the minerals and other healthy products within it. It's the same for me."
"But you can't die. Why would it matter?"
"I can diminish. It would affect things, though not as you expect."
"That is interesting also," Phoebe replied. "Are you suggesting that you could diminish, which means other concepts can as well?"
"Not directly," Death nodded with a smile. He stumbled, clutching his head. Phoebe felt a vast energy press down upon them and could feel something brush against her mind like a bullet just grazing the skin. In that one motion, she'd felt more inherent danger than all previous enemies combined, so much danger that it bypassed her artificial instincts entirely to lay thickly on her tongue as an acrid taste.
She didn't fall to the ground, and neither did Penny. They stood there, searching for the source of the pressure.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Luck..."
"Luck is a concept that watches over others?"
A swirling vortex opened up around Phoebe, parallel to the ground. Light and other equivalents shone out of it, dancing around its interior, piercing the layers of dark black fog. The mindscape trembled slightly, and the ground underneath Penny and Phoebe cracked. A small voice whispered out of it, though it was easily audible.
"No more."
"Look, if you're really Luck, then-"
"No more," the voice repeated. "You are done here. Do not come back."
Phoebe snorted. "If you think this little mysterious act is going to intimidate me, you're wrong. And I will."
"Not today."
"You don't get to decide-"
"I decide all."
Phoebe's head seemed to split with pain, and she found herself lying dizzily next to Penny. The human's chest was heaving, and sweat laced her eyebrows and cheeks.
"That went well," Phoebe coughed. The headache receded far too slowly. But she'd still learned a lot. Conceptual beings had concerns, for one. They likely cared about getting stronger in some cases. Humanity had some sort of outside context power, but more than that, the hivemind itself could actually use it.
"It did. Thanks, and sorry you couldn't get more."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
"Hello, Rank 10 Ambassador Liinara. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Ambassador Varirlar asked, letting a small smile curve around her snout. Putting the other party at ease would make this conversation easier, especially since she suspected this call wasn't just a concerned friend.
"You might want to sit down for this," her counterpart said. "Remember Exii'darii?"
Varirlar froze.
"Don't tell me you let her free."
"We didn't. The Sprilnav broke her out."
"Elders?"
"Not that we saw. But it is likely they are working for one," Liinara said, her antennae twitching. Varirlar knew there was a pheromone effect that went on with the Vinarii, which still couldn't be fully translated into description by words.
"Alright. You know how serious this is, I assume?"
"Yes."
"Many factions in the Alliance, especially the more recently joined ones, will not be happy."
"We understand."
"I can speak on behalf of the Alliance in asking a request for an official apology. Furthermore," Varirlar said, holding up a single claw, "I want your government to share the full containment procedure down to the alloy composition of the materials. Assuming you actually kept her in a prison cell for over a decade, that meant you had a way to keep her from escaping. Tell us how."
"You wish to recapture her?"
"We are not as naive as we once were," Varirlar said. "The Hateful Galaxy has taught the rest of the Alliance the same hard lessons it taught me. The Breyyanik did not forget its nature when we settled Ceres."
"Ah, so you wish to either use her or kill her."
"There is no use for her," Varirlar said. "Unless our scientists can propose a solution, there will be no use for her. She will be put down like the dog she is.""Then we are in agreement."
"Yes. The Alliance and the Vinarii's relationship has been tense for a while. We haven't spoken with Calanii or Ashnav'viinir in several years now. Why have you decided to diverge from us? Do we no longer suit your interests?"
"Not exactly. Even besides the... tumultuous events of Humanity's first contact, there are other powers at play. And there is evidence, in some cases, of Sprilnav interference." Liinara tapped her skull three times, the Vinarii way of saying that someone was a few branches short of a tree.
"Interference. Are there ways to prevent it?"
"Not officially. If you wish to discuss terms, I can set you up with one of our intelligence agencies. They will not be willing to share national secrets for nothing, however."
"I think this... debacle should count enough as recompense, don't you?" Varirlar smiled.
"Perhaps. But I am not who must be convinced. With that said, I wish you luck, Ambassador. I am glad that your Alliance has moved to take a more realistic path. And Ashnad'darii is still imprisoned, I presume?"
"Under much heavier guard once this call ends. But yes, she is still in a cell. Yes, she has implants. But she is leverage."
"Her usefulness is little," Liinara warned. "Calanii won't care at all about her."
"Everyone keeps saying that. But let's just say there are reasons she isn't dead."
"You should kill her."
"We should. We maybe could. Assuming that the official way is still trying to get an implant under her chitin to kill her instead of just launching her into the sun. Granted, that would kill her eventually."
"She is dangerous. Unable to be trusted."
"She was broken years ago," Varirlar said. "From what I've heard, she wears human-made clothes now instead of going naked. Plus, she has given us insights on Vinarii society, particularly involving its hierarchy."
"You're using her as a spy."
"A spy that hasn't seen a Vinarii face in almost twenty years? Pretty crappy at that job, I'd say. We both know that she killed hundreds of thousands personally, and was willing to kill many more. If she did not have her uses, she would have already been killed. Plus, there's a safety procedure in place."
"If you mean a bomb collar, good luck with that."
Varirlar didn't mean a collar. Psychic energy monitors were closely tied to a pair of fusion bombs that were embedded in her prison's walls. Should she get too far from the natural cell, they would explode. After all, the room had a bed, bathroom, sanitized entertainment, and a food and water delivery system. She was definitely mostly rehabilitated, but her crimes would follow her for the rest of her life. Their severity made her a case that would likely never fully rejoin any society unless it was an afterlife.
"Well. This has been productive," Varirlar replied with a smile. "But unfortunately,"
"Wait. I'm here to tell you something else, as well. The Dual Systems Trading Company wants to send more ships to your Sol system."
"How many more?"
"Umm, around 400."
"Why don't you have an exact number?"
"The negotiations are still underway. But they seek to bring Vinarii products to the internal Alliance markets, particularly the small Vinarii and larger Wisselen exclaves living within."
"They wouldn't be able to get you much money, unless it's in various Alliance cash forms. There's an angle, isn't there?"
"Well, yes. We don't know it yet. But it is suspicious."
Varirlar sighed. "Have you given them special brain scans?"
"What do you... oh. You suspect that?"
"Suspicious and spontaneous changes in their policy toward the Alliance, as we are suffering from issues with Sprilnav messing with people, and wanting to send us ships? I'm not stupid, Ambassador Liinara."
"I did not mean to insinuate-"
"Sure you didn't. Now, I shall tell you something very interesting. Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Very well," Varirlar said dramatically, adjusting her mane as she leaned forward. "The hivemind would be willing to meet with your... incapacitated members for study from afar."
"What do you mean?"
"Intelligence."
"We cannot trust it."
"I see. You are aware that you have just called all of Humanity untrustworthy, right? That's quite the insult, unprovoked."
"Apologies, Ambassador, that is not what I meant. The hivemind is likely to have its own motivations, and could be motivated to lie about what it saw."
"As could your own operatives, who could be pinned to the floor by any regular Sprilnav and chipped within a minute. Don't act like they don't have legendary hacking abilities as well. None of your systems are safe."
"And the Alliance's are?"
"With both Edu'frec and Phoebe watching over them, then yes."
"Ah, so you still think that the Sprilnav don't use AI."
"Why would they? It would threaten their own sense of superiority. If they already used AI, everyone would have a chip when they were born. There would be no resistance, because eventually a logical mind would not tolerate the constant pushback."
"You are free to believe what you do. However, my thoughts do diverge. As for Phoebe, she did a disappearing act for a while, didn't she?"
"And?"
"She isn't exactly reliable either," Liinara replied.
"If you're drowning in the ocean, would you rather have an island that storms a little or nothing at all?""I fail to see how her situation compares to that analogy. It was a very serious problem, if I understand it."
"And what do you suggest, then? Constantly bring her down over it until she resents us and shoves her hands through our hearts? Phoebe's a person, Ambassador. An Alliance citizen, a Luna citizen, and even more importantly than that, a friend. It's quite hurtful that you are suggesting such, unless it is the official stance of the Vinarii government. I assure you, the mess with your company trying to invade us is not resolved, either. Words cannot heal what actions injured. If you want reconciliation, it would be best to take the first steps yourself. Do not tell the Alliance to alienate Phoebe just because she made a mistake."
"Your own intelligence agencies would do the same in many cases."
"I fail to see how her situation compares to that analogy," Varirlar sighed. "Phoebe is the single most useful asset that the Alliance has come across that is not a purely psychic entity such as the hivemind or Gaia, or some paragon of a species like Dilandekar or Penny."
"So she's an asset, and not a person?"
"Please, Liinara. In the world we live in, the galaxy we live in, everyone is both. Do not lie to yourself. However, the Alliance wishes to show its people a shred of respect so it does not drag them through the mud when they made a mistake. Even before that, rehabilitation was the goal of Humanity. Why else do you think that we have prisons instead of just a wall where the bad people stand in front of to be shot? If a starving mother stole something, that doesn't mean we chop off her hands. We get her the help she and her child needs, so they can rejoin Alliance society and raise us all higher."
"Your Alliance has not fixed poverty like it said, then."
"Kind of difficult when one of your species is at a near constant feudal civil war, and another had a third of its populace halfway through insurrection. I assume that the Vinarii Empire has no such problems, correct? And again, I remind you that you are supposed to represent its official position, not your own."
Varirlar suspected that the Ambassador here had something else going on, as well. Whether it was mind control, being paid to screw this up, or something else entirely, this wasn't how such a conversation was meant to go. She only was continuing it to see if Liinara slipped up on something interesting.
"My position is as a Rank 10 Ambassador. You would do well to respect that."
"Respecting positions instead of people does not make sense when the position is respectable and the people are not. You have insulted Phoebe, Humanity, and the Alliance with your words. Were I to relay them, you might see a more hostile stance to the Vinarii Empire. Remember that you have agreements with us."
"Yes. Times have changed."
"I am sure that the Hive Emperor would not exactly like to hear what you have said. But do not worry, Ambassador. We will learn the truth of your words soon enough, one way or another. That is all for now. Perhaps I will ask for a Rank 11 Ambassador next time, to save myself the insults."
She ended the call and sighed. Varirlar could spin the wheel of chance, but the two answers were likely either mind control or someone being paid off to harm relations between them. Given Liinara's expressions, she didn't assume it was translation errors to blame. And this call was on a secure line, even more so than most.
Really, the Vinarii could be doing it. But she smelled something was up. There was likely a very rich Vinarii who the Sprilnav had either made to work with them or forced to, using mind control. Perhaps it really was the answer to both. But she knew not to just assume that. When you had a hammer, everything looked like a nail. It was an apt human saying for the situation.
Varirlar contacted several officials after she wrote her report with the attached recording of the situation. She'd done her best to appear calm, though responding to Liinara was not the orthodox method. But this way, she'd drawn out a lot more on how she viewed the Alliance, giving them a window into whatever was happening, blurry and small though it may have been.
She didn't really think that Calanii would have condoned this. Indeed, she might have just had her last diplomatic call ever. Assuming, of course, that the Sprilnav hadn't managed to chip him, too. If they had, though, the Alliance's situation would get bad fast. Luckily they were already at war with Aphid. Everything was already mobilized, and extra listening satellites in deep space had been set up. The last time the Vinarii Royal Navy had come to visit Humanity, they had not been ready. Perhaps now they were.
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Phoebe stood on the surface of Mercury, just underneath the great mass of the Mercury-class gun that had been built there. The first one that is. Now there were two great behemoths above her head, rising hundreds of meters into the sky. Not that Mercury really had a sky. Maybe someday, that would change.
For now, though, what mattered was the task at hand. The guns were already checked and cleared for firing. A small misalignment had destroyed a Charon-class gun in the past, so they were taking no chances with this. Now, the massive laser would serve its purpose. And, of course, the results would be live streamed.
The planet itself was a world almost covered in machinery. The atmosphere was toxic, filled with aerosols and gaseous industrial waste. There were no detectable life signs on it, whether they were communications, psychic emissions, or even just patches of warmth away from machinery. No subterranean life either, of any kind. Not even microbes had been spared from Aphid's apparent purge, if they had ever existed on this rock at all.
And Aphid's signature station designs orbited it also, whipping around its poisoned atmosphere at several miles a second. That was a sign that everyone on the planet, if there had ever been any, was dead.
A stream of ships poured in and out, guarded by a vast military fleet. In the Sol system, the amplifiers were powering up, and Brey was starting to form the outside of the portals she'd use for the guns, one on each side of the planet, at the equator. Her analysis had determined the areas in which opposite strikes would do the most damage. Phoebe had ensured to check for subterranean activity using Gaia's matter senses.
That had revealed large underground development areas, where presumably more of Aphid's mechanical drones were going to be made. Brey finished forming the portal as Phoebe took a last look at the spires of Aphid's world, ready to see how they'd do when the lasers hit.
She moved the stealth ships around the planet, continuing to watch the shield. It wasn't at full power, likely because Aphid wasn't expecting an attack. She didn't have a presence here in the mindscape, either. She was using far dumber programs as proxies across the Q-comms connections so that he could not detect a hint of anything wrong.
Combined with the Alliance's stealth technology, it would allow for a total surprise attack. Brey finished building up the portals in front of the guns, and Phoebe couldn't help but notice how deep the portals looked. They didn't seem like a flat plane like usual but had a sort of three-dimensionality to them this time. Interesting.
"Fire!" Phoebe ordered. Brey's avatar, which was standing beside an android back on Earth, grinned.
The barrels of the guns glowed cherry red, and vibrations radiated out from their heavily reinforced bases. Even with the android's solar shades, the light was still incredibly bright. Just from underneath it, the temperature was reaching almost 300 degrees. Just as she'd calculated.
On the other side of the portal, things got interesting. Brey's portal was invisible, but the energy coming from it was anything but. It almost looked like Aphid's planet was being impaled through a pole of pure white light. That light slammed down onto the planet's surface in three seconds, passing through the atmosphere as if it wasn't even there. Gaia stood beside the portals in the Sol system, blueshifting the light as much as possible. Instead of visible light, most of the weapon's energy, at least on the other side, was gamma. It was enough radiation to kill anything on the planet, for sure. Or to fry any electronic systems, such as a resident AI's servers.
The pure power of the two guns released a constant molten shockwave of a mix of vaporized rock, metal, and most other materials rushing outward. Buildings were snapped like twigs, their ends going flying but never landing. The heat melted others, and earthquakes in some areas that hadn't yet been struck by the spreading destruction were rampant.
The planet didn't explode or anything. The military ships that were far enough away to remain working just moved away, activating shields that fizzled out due to the intense energy beyond them. That energy would have destroyed Phoebe's android had Brey not used the portal to shield them as well. And as for her observation ships, their stealth coatings were quickly fried.
But the reinforced hulls were made specifically to withstand the effects of this for as long as possible. Cities of metal, all empty except for countless billions of drones wandering their streets, were wiped away. And then the portals began moving, shining around the equator. The effects spread and repeated, with the seas of methane catching fire before they, too, were vaporized in the path of the Mercury-class guns.
The atmosphere was boiled and stripped off the planet within hours. Most of the factories and foundries in the city were turned to either molten slag, collapsed by giant earthquakes, or vanished entirely. The devastation in the equatorial region was total. There was nothing left in a solid band 1500 miles wide around the equator of the planet, save for the broken bases of destroyed skyscrapers.
Further out, the damage was from earthquakes, snapped power lines, and broken pipes, as well as rubble that had fallen onto transport roads and collapsed tunnels. Alone, perhaps the problems could have been dealt with. But not together.
"Just to be sure," Brey asked. "You don't need the remains, right?"
"No. I will make what I need, that way I know it is safe," Phoebe replied, looking at Brey's avatar. It had the signature black fur of her empowered form, with red eyes and sharpened claws. The armor looked cool, as well.
"Alright. I'm going to go dump a few billion tons of plasma on it, then."
Phoebe smiled. "Alright. Have fun."
"I did. Good job on the guns. Get enough of those, and it'll be like the full Dyson swarm's hitting you in a straight line."
"That's the plan. The test was more than successful, and Aphid got a taste of the justice we deserve."

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Thanks u/TheWickedQueen_ for the commission!
This was a six dollar commission so once the commissioner gets a crack at the script it becomes public for anybody that wants it!
I've always kinda disliked the "sexy mafia dude/gal is all into you" cliche. I've always felt that criminals are either romanticized or demonized in fiction, like a slightly less creepy Madonna vs Whore complex. As somebody that grew up in an area with a lot of Ex-cons I wanted to make something more down to earth and explore what its like to be an ex-con a little bit ( I think I've just watched The Wire too much lol).
Also this city isn't based on any real place although I think its probably in the American rust belt somewhere. Its named after the city from Revolt of the Cockroach people
Archive: https://www.reddit.com/ASMRScriptHaven/comments/x9hb9v/script_archive/
If you like what I'm doing swing by my Ko-Fi! And DM me if you want a commission of your own! :https://ko-fi.com/timeraft
You've been coming to this seedy hole in the wall bar for a while, and it's not exactly for the food or the ambiance. No, it's because you've got a massive crush on the former-criminal-turned-bartender who runs the place. You know she doesn't see you that way, but for now, you're happy just to spend time with her and listen to her stories. But today, you'll realize just how badly she's misunderstood your intentions.
Dialogue
Context
SFX
Listener is a quiet shy type living in the inner city(probably early to late 20’s). Speaker is an ex mob boss turned bartender(Probably mid-30’s-early 40’s). They like spending time with the listener and telling stories, but they see a little more of themselves in the young person than they’d like.
And how's my favorite little regular customer on this hot summer night?
You feel that south wind blowing up Saginaw Highway? All hot and dry and smelling like the smog that usually stays way down in the valley? That means it's gonna be a scorcher. So make sure you stay hydrated tomorrow.
Rough day eh? I suppose I can relate. I admire you for sticking it out though, for what it's worth I never could myself. I never took to working, and I paid for it.
I’m surprised you don't have anywhere better to be. What I wouldn't give to be your age again, all alone just before sunset in the dog days of summer. You sure there's no pretty girl out there, just waiting on you to show up at her door and ask if she’s too busy for a little dancing?
No girl? Is there a boy?
Not that either eh? A good looking little thing like you with no place better to be than my little hole in the wall bar. Makes me wonder what you’re really after. I don't suppose you’re here for my pretty face either.
Sets glass on bar
Drink up kid, it's on the house. Finish it up and leave. Don't come round here no more.
Don't give me that look. It's not anything you did.
Listen, you're a good kid. You don't want to hear this, but you’re innocent. Pure as fresh fallen snow. I’d kill to get half of that innocence for myself.
I know you’ve figured out that my regulars are all criminals or ex-cons, they come in here to take a load off. Or sometimes talk shop. I don't care about them, they’re all too far gone for somebody like me to be able to pull them back, but I can stop you at least.
This isn't a place for somebody like you. So finish your drink. And leave.
You remind me of a younger me. The dissatisfied ambitious youngblood, who felt like they weren't going to get anywhere in life unless they were willing to take serious risks.
I spent a lot of time in a place just like this, trying to rub elbows with the people I looked up to.
I told you all the stories before, but what the hell, how about a refresher.
It took a while, but I got in and I was pretty good at it.
Real good.
There was a time not too long ago where I ran this whole neighborhood. Ran the numbers game for a while, that was safe but the returns weren’t the millions I dreamed of so I moved on to more dangerous stuff.
Turned out I was good at that too. Too good. People got hurt. I need you to understand that.
I hurt people. A lot of people. More than I ever got punished for.
And it got me what I wanted. Power. Money. Respect. Fear.
It couldn't last though. You can never be on top all the time.
The sheriffs and the staties couldn't touch me, but I got sloppy with my money and the revenuers locked me up. That's typically how it goes.
I spent ten years in Terre Haute, eight behind bars and two working at the baking powder factory. When I got back to Tooner Flats everything I built was gone, all I had left was this building. I’d never even been inside before. I just used it to launder money.
You ever spend any time in a prison? I know you’re aware it's not a fun time, but you know what really kills you? It's not the gangs or the guards. It's the boredom.
Time slips away from you, but also seems to pass so slow that it's like trying to carve your name in dry cement.
You try to keep your feet on the ground, but you can't all the time.
You get up in the morning at 6, get counted at six fifteen, eat your oatmeal at six thirty, grab a full eight assembling office furniture for the feds. Two hours of rec time, outside if you’re really well behaved. Eat dinner, green Jello on fridays, red Jello every other day. Bed inspection. Choose between the library or the movie. Go to your bunk, lights out.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
I went mad for most of year four, came back around to something close to sanity in year six. I never really fully recovered though. I cant really complain I suppose, I deserved to be in there. A lot of people have been in there a lot longer for a lot less.
Here, I want you to try something
Opens a bag of chips and pours them into a bowl
This is a brand of chips they had in the canteen out there in Indiana. You can't normally get this brand outside of prison. I picked up a few bags on ebay because every now and then I find myself craving it. They’re flavored with whatever flavor dust the day shift at the chip factory didn’t use up, so they’ve got a lot going on. Try a couple.
Crunch
Kinda gross right? Wayyyy too much flavor and it all clashes weird. It's like licking the floor at Dollar general.
But believe me. They hit differently when you’re wearing orange and black.
When everything feels and looks the same day and day out, you start craving sensation. Any sensation. This absolute overload of flavor felt like heaven. The closest I ever saw to a riot was the saturday they opened the canteen without a fresh stock of these.
You go a little crazy in there. Just looking for anything to silence that steady drumbeat of monotony. I got really into the twilight books when they were coming out. I know somebody that spent a long time in solitary who spent their time touching cold metal, waiting for it to get warm, letting go and touching it again when it got cold again. Anything to break up the void.
When I look back at those two years where I was on top of the world, they weren't worth it. They weren't worth my time in Indiana. I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did.
Downs a drink and slams down the glass
My dad won't even talk to me now.
He was a nurse, down at the VA clinic on Cleveland Boulevard. It’s closed now, I think they tore it down and built a Costco. Back when I was a kid it was still seen as emasculating for a man to take that job, but he was good at it and it paid enough for him to raise me on his own after mom died. I felt ashamed though.
He was a good honest man, and I spent my childhood ashamed of him. And then threw away everything he ever gave me to pursue life as a bigshot.
I tried to visit him the other day. He lives in a trailer park on the other side of old highway nine, way down in the valley now. I could see him in there, on his chair watching the hockey game.
He could see me. I knocked and we made eye contact, but he never stirred from his chair.
I suppose I’m dead to him,and I don't blame him. I just wish to god I wasn't.
So finish that drink and leave. If I see you around again I’ll break your arms.
Listener swears they don't come around because they want to be criminal
Oh no? You’re not in the market for a life of crime? Why do you come around then? Riddle me that. I know it's not for the drinks, I can't mix a cocktail to save my life, and I know it's not for the company. What are you an undercover cop or something?
My stories? You're pulling my leg! I’m just old and full of shit. Next thing you're gonna say you’ve got some sort of crush on me.
Listener does not deny it.
No
Nooooo
Oh god. You’re kidding.
Hysterical laughter
What in the name of Peter and Jane is wrong with you!?
Look at me. I’ve easily got ten years on you. I'm going grey and getting wrinkles.
I’ve got callouses from the prison shop and dark circles around my eyes that won't go away no matter how much I try to sleep. My hands are cold and my face is sad. Little kids cry when they see me at the grocery store.
You deserve some passionate young woman with stars in her eyes. Mine are just empty and tired. I don't have passion in me anymore.
Hell I don't even do anything anymore. All I want to do at the end of the day is make myself some oatmeal and watch the rerun channel. You can do better.
You can do a lot better.
I really can't talk you out of it?
Well who am I to deny you the right to make terrible choices? You can't say I didn't warn you about me. You damn fool.
I’ll tell you what. This place is dead tonight, what do you say we go dancing?
On one condition. You stop hanging around here. If this works it works and we’ll hang out someplace else. And if it doesnt I dont need you floating around like a sad little puppy.
Deal? Good
They kiss the listener on the cheek.
Go back home and clean up a bit, I’ll go upstairs and do the same. It’s ballroom night at the Falcons lodge. I haven't danced in ages and I want to see if I’ve still got it. We’ll see where that south wind takes us from there.
I’ll see you in an hour. On the dot. If you panic now and stand me up I might straight up break your legs.
God you’re an idiot
-30-

"Come inside, the kids are upstairs." Molly was in a rush, I knew this much from the phone call we had earlier. She had never used me before but heard about me through word of mouth. Which meant that my little side hustle was starting to gain traction.
I am a babysitter for a good neighborhood. There's cars parked outside, lawns are manicured, and the occasional termite company is out doing rounds. I don't know why but I always feel as if there's a termite guy nearby, it's a pretty decent area. Which is a far cry from where I live, on the other side of the tracks, literally. There are train tracks that run through our town and it acts as a divide. But they didn't need to know that. They only needed to see the straightened hair, well spoken, fake braces wearing girl in glasses sporting a skirt that wasn't too short where the neighbors would talk.
Usually I sat down with new clients, have them introduce me to their kids (trust me it helps) in order to make a clear cut line with them that I am in their parent's employ and I am not there to be their bestfriend and will definitely tell on them if they act up or break something. That's not to say I won't play silly games with them, feed them, laugh, tell bed time stories, and age appropriate jokes. But I am nobody's rug.
That's what I usually do, but there wasn't such luxury this time. Molly called me on the phone and she sounded desperate for me to come out. I had concert tickets and told her that they were non-refundable and she suggested that if I could make it in 30 minutes then she'd pay me twice the amount for the tickets and 1.5x my usual rate. I got there in 29 minutes. It would have been sooner but I needed to air myself out if you know what I mean.
Anyways, Molly barely had time to look at my face, let alone get any of my credentials as she was rushing out. Working mom it looked like. Business, by the looks of the pencil skirt and the bag that doubled as a folder. It always amazes me how much trust some people put in others to watch their kids. What if I was a serial killer? Or a deranged lunatic? What if I killed the babysitter on my way here and now I'm in a house, alone, with all her children.
I'm not. But I mean, what if, right?
She didn't seem to think about any of these things, leaving me to mumble goodbyes as she pulled out of the driveway, barely audible as the turbos wound up and she shouted something out the window to the likes of, "It's all on the iPad".
Yeah, no more yellow lined paper stuck with the realtor's magnet on the fridge anymore. It's all digital now.
I closed the door and figured that I better check up on the kids before I did a rundown. God this house was beautiful. I climbed the stairs two at a time and rounded the hall. To be fair, calling it a hall was so basic of me. It was more like a wing. West wing madam. The wing could have fit my living room. I click my heels when I heard a snort come from behind me. I came to face a shaggy dog that was well groomed. The collar was black with an underline of blue. Tiffany's undoubtedly. "Hey," I reached a hand and scratched the mop of top. "Let's go find the kids," I tell the dog as if it could understand me.
There were a series of rooms, most of them closed, but it didn't take me a second guess which one was occupied. The second door on the left, I could hear a kid shouting obscenities about someone being trash. I knocked on that door first.
"Come in," he shouted still loud but slightly less angry.
I opened the door and saw a stereotypical gamer's room. Posters, action figures, a rocking gaming chair on the floor in front of a huge flat screen, and a boy about 9 or 10. He had on his headphones and was sipping a Dr. Pepper.
"Don't they know trash day is on Thursdays?"
He cocked his head and laughed, "If you're looking for my mom I think she's downstairs."
"I'm actually looking for you." And let me tell you something. The audacity of this younger generation. The way he looked at me. Almost made me feel as bad as how I felt when he shrugged his shoulders after he had a good look. "Excuse me," I walk in front of him and blocked the screen. "I'm your new babysitter."
He shrugged. "Cool."
"What's your name?"
"You can read all about it somewhere else."
"What?"
"It's all on the iPad," he told me.
"What's your name," I repeated.
He rolls his eyes and looks at me as if I had asked him a stupid question, "Well I'm not Max."
I don't budge.
He whined, "Bobbie. Now come on, the next rounds about to start." he pulled his headphones over his ears. I grabbed the remote to get his attention. "What. Hey come on."
"It's nice to meet you Bobbie. Your mom's going to be away for a few hours and I'll be here until she gets back. Dinner is at 6:00 and I will make snacks at 4:30."
"No cap," he motioned at the tv, "Now can I get back to my game.
"Sure I tell him." Pocketing the remote.
"Hey!"
"Bye," I tell him as I close the door behind me.
So I'm back out in the hallway. And I open a few more doors. Some were locked. Before I get into one that's rather plain. There's a picture hanging up behind the bed, a tv, some lamps and shade. On the bed sits an identical, about 9 or 10, twins it seems. Probably why Bobbie was tired of being asked which one he was.
This one was staring at the blank screen. No video games. And quiet. Now I've babysat my share of kids before, and have seen all sorts. Quiet kids are my favorite. They don't mind board games, or listening. Most often times they only need to be left alone. I don't do too much talking in case they get tired of hearing my voice. And I give them a lot of space. "Hey, sorry about that. I didn't think anyone was in here."
He turned to me slowly, "Hi. Are you the new sitter?"
I nodded, "Yup. And I'm guessing that you're Max. I'll be watching you guys while your mom is away."
"She's probably going to work."
"Yeah, looked like it." I see the iPad in his hands. "Hey. I was looking for that."
"She's always at work." He hands it over. "It's dead. And mom took the charger."
I tried not to sigh. This was not how I wanted things to go. "Well, ok. If you need anything. Let me know. Or else I can come get you at 4:30 for snacks and dinner at 6."
He nodded, "Thanks," and goes back to staring at the screen.
I smile but he doesn't see, so I leave, closing the door softly behind me.
I make my way downstairs, wandering into the kitchen and start taking stock of what's there. Which was practically everything. This kitchen was so chic that I half expected Gordon Ramsay to pop out and tell me that the banana bread I made didn't have a clue if he staked the curved yellow fruit down the middle (it's a bad question mark joke. Listen. I never said I was funny).
Once I made sure that there was food, or ingredients to make food. There wasn't much else to do. The house was spotless. The kids were fine. And even the dog seemed well behaved. So I plopped on the couch, took out my fake braces, and watched tv until about 4:10 before I started slicing apples and celery to go with some peanut butter.
I fed the dog some peanut butter and licked my fingers (not with the hand I fed the dog with), before heading upstairs. Bobbie took the plate no problem but I couldn't find Max for the life of me. I wandered the rooms as the dog followed, still trying to lick my hand. "Max, I've got snacks." I knocked on what seemed like the umpteenth door before I get to a rather solid oak one that seemed custom.
Inside was the biggest home library I had ever seen. And I once dog sat for a pretentious professor from the college nearby. I mean, there was a portrait of said academic holding his dog in 18th century art style hanging over the mantle place of the deep wood cabinets filled with books. And yet this library made the other one look like a neighborhood book exchange birdbox.
"Holy..."
"Cow."
I whirled around to find Max standing in the doorway.
"You shouldn't wander into Father's study."
"I was just looking for you," holding up the plate. He made a face. "What? You don't like PB&C?" I took a stick and crunched on the celery.
"I'm not hungry."
I shrug. "Take it anyway. In case you get hungry."
He grabs the plate from me without much struggle so I decide to leave him be. I went back downstairs and crashed in front of the tv.
When I woke up. It was dark. My mouth was dry and all of the lights were off. The screen saver flashed the logo in blinks, lighting up the room only momentarily. For a second I forgot where I was and felt my heart thumping in my chest. My alarm didn't go off but I don't know why I woke up. Then I heard it again. The sound that must have jerked me awake. A crash. It came from upstairs. I grab my phone and glance down at the numbers. It was 8:10. I had slept through dinner. Shit. Shit. Shit. Here I was trying to make a good first impression and I missed out on dinner.
I wipe what drool was on my face and took to the stairs. Bobbie was probably so immersed in his game that he probably didn't even know he was hungry. Max on the other hand. "Max?" I call out down the hall. All of the doors are shut. I can hear something panting behind me. I turn to see the dog again. Its head is down and there's barely any light touching its face. "Hey come here," I called but it retreated in the opposite direction.
Then I shit me not. I heard a creaking come from behind me. It was the only noise in the house. I couldn't even hear Bobbie yelling in his room. I turn slowly and see one of the doors down the hall is now slightly ajar. It's dark in here. It was dark everywhere. I pressed my hands against the wall searching for a light switch. "Bobbie," I call out. There's no answer. "Hey, sorry about the delay in dinner. I'm going to get to it now."
Why was this place so big? And why could I see the door?
"Bobbie. Max?" I hear the dog tapping its paws behind me. Someone on the other side of the house by now. "Hey, where are you guys?" I peer at the single door that's open and realized why it was so prominent. The hall was dark, but what was inside was even darker. Instead of going toward it, I try the first knob my blind fingers came across. Process of elimination I told myself. It was locked. I tried the next one. Also locked. I finally get to Bobbie's door and I knock. "Bobbie." There's no answer. I press my head against the door and listen. But I don't hear a single sound.
"Where are all the light switches in this place!"
The door that was open before slightly opens again. Creaking, *tic tic tic tic*, with each ungreased turn of the hinge. "Shit. Hey, stop playing around."
There's laughing coming from behind me. It sounded like a little kids. Too young to be either of the boys. Followed by smaller footsteps. It sounded like they were barefoot. "Hey, this isn't funny. I'm going to tell your mother when she gets home." I take out my phone and turn on the flashlight. "When is she coming home?" It was almost 8:30, when I realized that we never set a time.
I hear footsteps again, they were odd. Almost like falling. Like a toddler learning how to run for the first time but the hollow ground sounded as if the person was much heavier. I shine my flashlight over the hall. "Shit." The dog was sitting on all fours in the corner. It was facing the wall. I couldn't even see his face. Every hair on its body completely still.
"Hey," I called out. "Come here." I clicked my tongue. "Come here." The dog didn't move. I couldn't even see it breathing.
Bang! It sounded like thunder behind me. As if someone dropped something on the floor. As if something fell off a shelf or was pushed. I jumped around and shone my light down the west wing. I didn't know if I should have been more or less afraid now that the door was closed. "Bobbie? Max?"
God. I did not want to try the door. And I stood there for a minute before realizing how stupid I must have looked. These were some rich kids playing a joke on you Camilia. I know it. The thought of their smug little faces made me stomp out of my frozen state. I took a couple of strides over and grabbed the handle.
"Fuck!" The thing was hot. "What the hell! You guys could have hurt me," I yelled. I banged on the door. "Open up. You two are in so much trouble." I banged on the door again. "Open the door. Right now!" I could hear something on the other side. It sounded like shuffling. Heavy furniture perhaps. "You guys better not be messing things up in there. I'm not going to clean it. I mean it."
I banged on the door. "I can hear you in there! Now come on!" I put my hands on my hips and tapped my foot. "I'm waiting. Your little jokes over now." I banged on the door again.
That's when the door knocked back.
It wouldn't have scared me. I don't think. Except for the fact that I was surprised. And alone in the hall. Without any of the lights on. In a strange house. And before I could say anything else. Another door behind me knocked from the inside. "Shit. Both of you are in on this?" I grabbed the handle to the other door. It was also locked. I banged on it. "Come out right now. Max?"
But then a third door started knocked from down the hall. I felt my throat clump as I tried to swallow. "You guys weren't supposed to have anyone over." The knocking didn't stop. It kept echoing down the hall. "I'm not getting paid for three kids you know?"
Tat-tat-tat-tat. Tat-tat-tat.
I took a single step. And then all of the doors in the hallway suddenly started banging.
I almost tripped as I ran toward the stairs. The doors were thundering on so hard I thought they would crack their hinges. I skipped the stairs, the sounds chasing me as I tried to not fall and break my neck. When I got to the front landing I hear someone say my name.
"Camilia. Are you okay?"
I'm trying not to choke on a lung here as I shot my eyes toward the kitchen. The kids are sitting on the barstools lining the counter. There are two plates in front of them. As if they didn't hear the drumline upstairs.
"Is it dinner time yet," one of them asks quietly.
"Max?"
He smiles.
"Kids. I think there's someone in the house." I rush over to grab each of their hands. Bobbie's wrists are limp but it was Max's hands that shocked me. They were ice cold. I tried to let go but my fingers wouldn't uncurl.
He turns my hand over and says, "There's no one else in this house except us. I promise."
"No," I wasn't about to listen to the kid even if it was his house. "Something is wrong. We have to go. Now." I pick up Bobbie and he doesn't seem to want to move. "Come on Bobbie. Let's go." He looks over at Max who shrugs and get out of his seat.
Bobbie follows as I drag them toward the front door.
"Camilia," Max says.
"What?" He looked scared. Which made me turn toward what he was staring out. At the front door was a tall figure. I couldn't see its face through the glass. It was a stark figure of a man.
"Do you think it's your dad?"
Max shakes his head. I feel him pulling against my arm.
I call out to the man, "Hey! Who is it?" The man doesn't budge. "I'm calling the police." I turn to Bobbie, "Get the phone." He doesn't move. "Hey!" I'm trying to sound as angry as possible. "Get the fuck out of here!" I grabbed a roll of painter's tape from the side table and hurl it across the hall, hitting the glass squarely in the face where the man's head stood blocking the exit. He doesn't even twitch as the glass shakes.
"Come on," I grab their hands and rush to the back. I don't get 10 steps before I feel a scream crawl up my throat making me cough. The man was standing at the sliding door. "Fuck!" I drag the two of them with me towards the kitchen. It's a big place so there had to be a way out to the garage. We push through one of the doors and end up in the laundry room. The next door gets us out into a 3 car garage. My hands find the glowing green opener against the wall and I hear the opener fold seamlessly towards the ceiling.
It started with his feet. Then his ankles. His shins. Then his legs. Light poured in behind him from the streetlamp. I watched as the door went to his waist before I hit the button for the garage to close, before rushing back inside. We make it into the kitchen to where I still see the tall man standing at the sliding door. A part of me wants to hide in the laundry room but I didn't want to be sandwiched in the middle of the house. So I pull the boys back up the stairs, back to where the doors banged themselves. Taking out my phone as we ascended, and called 911.
"This is the police operator speaking."
"HELLO", I hope they could hear me, "There are several men trying to get inside!"
"Men? Are you in any danger?"
"No! But they have us surrounded!"
"Why don't you go outside?"
My tongue suddenly felt numb in my mouth. Like I didn't know what to do with it. "W-what?"
"It's stranger in the house."
The line went dead as we hit the hallway.
I only took my eyes off of them for a second before Bobbie. Or Max. Runs down the hall. The one or the other already slipping through a door ahead. I look back down the stairs and see that the man is still standing in front of the doorway. I look back up and see the other boy also going through the same door. I take a single step and the doors start pounding on either side. I shut my eyes and turn around. Afraid to go. Almost deciding that these weren't my kids. That I should run away. I take a step backwards mouthing that I was sorry. But I was too scared to go! "Max! Bobbie!" My back foot sticks to the floor. I don't want to look down but the next step sticks too. I point my phone to the ground and see a trail of blood. And just behind me. It's the dog. Split right down the middle, its spine shiny and white, still facing the wall. I could see its organs still pulsing.
I couldn't go back downstairs. I couldn't go the other way. I couldn't leave them here. I couldn't be alone.
I ran after them. The thundering of the doors following me as frames fell to the floor. A vase rolled off a table in the hall. It came crashing at my feet. I run my shoulder through the door, except it wasn't locked. Which caused me to go crashing, sprawling to the floor. Running into the desk in the middle of the room.
The study.
Many of the books were off the shelves. The carpet was torn. There were curtains on fire. It was the first time a saw a window as they burned.
"Camilia!"
I hear one of their voices shouting at me.
"Camilia!" It came again. "Help!"
I get to my feet and start working my hands along the desk. I didn't have to search far. The bookcase directly behind the chair had been swung open. "Camilia!" I wipe the blood from my eyebrow where it had split and step into the tunnel behind the secret passage.
The tunnel started off tall and wide, but as I kept walking in. It got smaller and smaller. I started having to hunch. Several times I decided to turn back. But their voices would echo through, calling for me. Asking for help. "I'm coming!"
"I can't hold on! Camilia! Please!"
The twins cry for help bounced off the walls. I was finally on my hands and knees when I finally see two holes on either side. I'm afraid to look but then one of their voices came through clear as day. "Camilia." It was right in my ear now. I turned to see the boy naked and huddling, hugging his knees at the back of his hole.
"Camilia! Help! I don't want to play this game anymore!"
"Bobbie?"
"Help me!"
I look into the hole, the walls are pressing on my back and there's dust going into my lungs. I can barely turn my shoulder. "Crawl out!"
"I can't!"
"Crawl out! I'm right here." I take out my hand, "Come on!"
"Camilia!" Came a voice from the other side.
I turn my head and see Max in the other hole.
"No!" Bobbie shouts at me. "No!"
"Hold on," I tell him. "I'm going to get both of you out of here."
"No," Bobbie cries. "It's all his fault. He's the one that did it. He's the one that wants to get out!"
"Bobbie, what are you talking about."
"He's the one that put something in your drink so you'd fall asleep!"
"He's lying!" Max's voice rang through. "It's him! I saw him. Always in father's study! Reading those books! Trying out those things he reads. Those curses. Those spells. It's why the shadow men are after him! Camilia! You have to believe me."
I can hear Bobbie crying, "Why are you lying! I don't want to play anymore," he screeches. "I don't want to play!" He sobs. "You said you'd go away if I told you that I didn't want to play anymore."
I don't know what made me do it. It sure wasn't the nauseating squealing tantrum of the boy which made me reach for him first. Maybe it was because I wanted him to shut up. I don't know but I plunged my arm up to my shoulder in to grab Bobbie's collar.
Instantly I screamed and saw tiny spiders, short thin legs with round white backs crawl over my arms. I shook my arm in the hole, trying to smother them against the walls. That only caused these long brown flat slugs to fall. I saw one land on my hand. It had three distinct tendon-like lines running across its back and was about a half inch long. I pulled my arm out of the hole as I felt it pierce its flat head into the back of my thumb. I dropped my phone and heard it crack as the light splintered in the small, suffocating tunnel. But I didn't care as I looked at my hand and saw it burrowing its tiny spearhead below my skin. I grabbed at the wiggling tail still exposed and tried pulling it out.
It was like trying to pull our barbed wire. The spines on its body were facing me. So with each pull they dug deeper inside. I could see blood pooling under my skin, it was starting to turn purple as I tugged on its tail even harder. Until it gave. Popped right off and lay twitching in my hand. The head missing.
I couldn't take it anymore. Really. I had tried my best. I shake my head. "Bobbie. Bobbie. I'm sorry." But it didn't matter. When I looked over at Bobbie. He was covered in it. All of it. Even the spiders.
My jeans started shifting as I tried to wiggle myself out of there. But I hear Max's cry again. "Camilia! Please!"
"No," I whimpered. Shaking. I couldn't reach my hand in there again. But his voice was so scared. More scared than the pain I felt.
I shot my arm inside. Bracing. Waiting for the pain. But there was none. Instead my hands grasped around his collar and I felt his cold clammy skin, and yanked him from the hole. He came without much struggle. His face covered in the soot of it all. "Camilia," he cried. "You picked me. You did it."
I didn't have the heart to tell him that I almost didn't.
"Come on," I cried. "We. Have. To go."
The two of us wiggled our way out of there, crawling on our hands and knees, and running when we could. We finally make it back into the study. And the fire is roaring now. One of the books fall from the shelves and when it hit the fire I swear it started screaming. There was so much smoke that I couldn't see. And the door was covered by the flames.
I pointed to the window, the curtains on the floor in ashes. I kick the window. It didn't budge. I coughed. I kicked it again. The glass shook. I kicked it again and my foot went through. Pieces of the glass still hung in the frame, I use the tips of my fingers and pull them back. They fall to the floor cracking until there was a hole big enough for me to get through.
I plunge my head out and take my first breath of fresh air. The moon was full and the sky was clear. I could hear sirens coming off in the distance. When both of my feet were on the roof. I reach my hand back and grab Max from the burning house. Together we run across the clay tiles and climb down the arched tree. The red fire truck comes screeching to a stop as several firemen help us down.
One of them pushes a breathing mask on me, and wraps me up. The neighbors are outside, and the police arrive. I see a familiar car come roaring down the street, screaming to a halt as Molly runs out. Her face is flustered and she's shouting. Pushing through the cops until she reaches me next to the ambulance.
"What happened," she literally screamed at me.
"I'm so sorry," I tell her. "There were these men." I take another breath. "I couldn't do anything! B-but I saved Max! I saved him!"
She looked at the house. It was blazing now in the cool night. "Oh my god. Is Bobbie still in there?" Molly starts to cry. "My baby!"
"Max. But Max." I cough. "Max is okay!"
And she turns to me. I wasn't expecting her to be grateful. But there's anger on her face. "You didn't save my son. But you saved our dog?"
I shake my head. "No. Max. Your other son." I looked around but he was nowhere to be found.
s

"Come inside, the kids are upstairs." Molly was in a rush, I knew this much from the phone call we had earlier. She had never used me before but heard about me through word of mouth. Which meant that my little side hustle was starting to gain traction.
I am a babysitter for a good neighborhood. There's cars parked outside, lawns are manicured, and the occasional termite company is out doing rounds. I don't know why but I always feel as if there's a termite guy nearby, it's a pretty decent area. Which is a far cry from where I live, on the other side of the tracks, literally. There are train tracks that run through our town and it acts as a divide. But they didn't need to know that. They only needed to see the straightened hair, well spoken, fake braces wearing girl in glasses sporting a skirt that wasn't too short where the neighbors would talk.
Usually I sat down with new clients, have them introduce me to their kids (trust me it helps) in order to make a clear cut line with them that I am in their parent's employ and I am not there to be their bestfriend and will definitely tell on them if they act up or break something. That's not to say I won't play silly games with them, feed them, laugh, tell bed time stories, and age appropriate jokes. But I am nobody's rug.
That's what I usually do, but there wasn't such luxury this time. Molly called me on the phone and she sounded desperate for me to come out. I had concert tickets and told her that they were non-refundable and she suggested that if I could make it in 30 minutes then she'd pay me twice the amount for the tickets and 1.5x my usual rate. I got there in 29 minutes. It would have been sooner but I needed to air myself out if you know what I mean.
Anyways, Molly barely had time to look at my face, let alone get any of my credentials as she was rushing out. Working mom it looked like. Business, by the looks of the pencil skirt and the bag that doubled as a folder. It always amazes me how much trust some people put in others to watch their kids. What if I was a serial killer? Or a deranged lunatic? What if I killed the babysitter on my way here and now I'm in a house, alone, with all her children.
I'm not. But I mean, what if, right?
She didn't seem to think about any of these things, leaving me to mumble goodbyes as she pulled out of the driveway, barely audible as the turbos wound up and she shouted something out the window to the likes of, "It's all on the iPad".
Yeah, no more yellow lined paper stuck with the realtor's magnet on the fridge anymore. It's all digital now.
I closed the door and figured that I better check up on the kids before I did a rundown. God this house was beautiful. I climbed the stairs two at a time and rounded the hall. To be fair, calling it a hall was so basic of me. It was more like a wing. West wing madam. The wing could have fit my living room. I click my heels when I heard a snort come from behind me. I came to face a shaggy dog that was well groomed. The collar was black with an underline of blue. Tiffany's undoubtedly. "Hey," I reached a hand and scratched the mop of top. "Let's go find the kids," I tell the dog as if it could understand me.
There were a series of rooms, most of them closed, but it didn't take me a second guess which one was occupied. The second door on the left, I could hear a kid shouting obscenities about someone being trash. I knocked on that door first.
"Come in," he shouted still loud but slightly less angry.
I opened the door and saw a stereotypical gamer's room. Posters, action figures, a rocking gaming chair on the floor in front of a huge flat screen, and a boy about 9 or 10. He had on his headphones and was sipping a Dr. Pepper.
"Don't they know trash day is on Thursdays?"
He cocked his head and laughed, "If you're looking for my mom I think she's downstairs."
"I'm actually looking for you." And let me tell you something. The audacity of this younger generation. The way he looked at me. Almost made me feel as bad as how I felt when he shrugged his shoulders after he had a good look. "Excuse me," I walk in front of him and blocked the screen. "I'm your new babysitter."
He shrugged. "Cool."
"What's your name?"
"You can read all about it somewhere else."
"What?"
"It's all on the iPad," he told me.
"What's your name," I repeated.
He rolls his eyes and looks at me as if I had asked him a stupid question.
I don't budge.
He whined, "Bobbie. Now come on, the next rounds about to start." he pulled his headphones over his ears. I grabbed the remote to get his attention. "What. Hey come on."
"It's nice to meet you Bobbie. Your mom's going to be away for a few hours and I'll be here until she gets back. Dinner is at 6:00 and I will make snacks at 4:30."
"No cap," he motioned at the tv, "Now can I get back to my game.
"Sure I tell him." Pocketing the remote.
"Hey!"
"Bye," I tell him as I close the door behind me.
So I'm back out in the hallway. And I open a few more doors. Some were locked. Before I get into one that's rather plain. There's a picture hanging up behind the bed, a tv, some lamps and shade. On the bed sits an identical, about 9 or 10, twins it seems. Probably why Bobbie was tired of being asked which one he was.
This one was staring at the blank screen. No video games. And quiet. Now I've babysat my share of kids before, and have seen all sorts. Quiet kids are my favorite. They don't mind board games, or listening. Most often times they only need to be left alone. I don't do too much talking in case they get tired of hearing my voice. And I give them a lot of space. "Hey, sorry about that. I didn't think anyone was in here."
He turned to me slowly, "Hi. Are you the new sitter?"
I nodded, "Yup. And I'm guessing that you're Max. I'll be watching you guys while your mom is away."
"She's probably going to work."
"Yeah, looked like it." I see the iPad in his hands. "Hey. I was looking for that."
"She's always at work." He hands it over. "It's dead. And mom took the charger."
I tried not to sigh. This was not how I wanted things to go. "Well, ok. If you need anything. Let me know. Or else I can come get you at 4:30 for snacks and dinner at 6."
He nodded, "Thanks," and goes back to staring at the screen.
I smile but he doesn't see, so I leave, closing the door softly behind me.
I make my way downstairs, wandering into the kitchen and start taking stock of what's there. Which was practically everything. This kitchen was so chic that I half expected Gordon Ramsay to pop out and tell me that the banana bread I made didn't have a clue if he staked the curved yellow fruit down the middle (it's a bad question mark joke. Listen. I never said I was funny).
Once I made sure that there was food, or ingredients to make food. There wasn't much else to do. The house was spotless. The kids were fine. And even the dog seemed well behaved. So I plopped on the couch, took out my fake braces, and watched tv until about 4:10 before I started slicing apples and celery to go with some peanut butter.
I fed the dog some peanut butter and licked my fingers (not with the hand I fed the dog with), before heading upstairs. Bobbie took the plate no problem but I couldn't find Max for the life of me. I wandered the rooms as the dog followed, still trying to lick my hand. "Max, I've got snacks." I knocked on what seemed like the umpteenth door before I get to a rather solid oak one that seemed custom.
Inside was the biggest home library I had ever seen. And I once dog sat for a pretentious professor from the college nearby. I mean, there was a portrait of said academic holding his dog in 18th century art style hanging over the mantle place of the deep wood cabinets filled with books. And yet this library made the other one look like a neighborhood book exchange birdbox.
"Holy..."
"Cow."
I whirled around to find Max standing in the doorway.
"You shouldn't wander into Father's study."
"I was just looking for you," holding up the plate. He made a face. "What? You don't like PB&C?" I took a stick and crunched on the celery.
"I'm not hungry."
I shrug. "Take it anyway. In case you get hungry."
He grabs the plate from me without much struggle so I decide to leave him be. I went back downstairs and crashed in front of the tv.
When I woke up. It was dark. My mouth was dry and all of the lights were off. The screen saver flashed the logo in blinks, lighting up the room only momentarily. For a second I forgot where I was and felt my heart thumping in my chest. My alarm didn't go off but I don't know why I woke up. Then I heard it again. The sound that must have jerked me awake. A crash. It came from upstairs. I grab my phone and glance down at the numbers. It was 8:10. I had slept through dinner. Shit. Shit. Shit. Here I was trying to make a good first impression and I missed out on dinner.
I wipe what drool was on my face and took to the stairs. Bobbie was probably so immersed in his game that he probably didn't even know he was hungry. Max on the other hand. "Max?" I call out down the hall. All of the doors are shut. I can hear something panting behind me. I turn to see the dog again. Its head is down and there's barely any light touching its face. "Hey come here," I called but it retreated in the opposite direction.
Then I shit me not. I heard a creaking come from behind me. It was the only noise in the house. I couldn't even hear Bobbie yelling in his room. I turn slowly and see one of the doors down the hall is now slightly ajar. It's dark in here. It was dark everywhere. I pressed my hands against the wall searching for a light switch. "Bobbie," I call out. There's no answer. "Hey, sorry about the delay in dinner. I'm going to get to it now."
Why was this place so big? And why could I see the door?
"Bobbie. Max?" I hear the dog tapping its paws behind me. Someone on the other side of the house by now. "Hey, where are you guys?" I peer at the single door that's open and realized why it was so prominent. The hall was dark, but what was inside was even darker. Instead of going toward it, I try the first knob my blind fingers came across. Process of elimination I told myself. It was locked. I tried the next one. Also locked. I finally get to Bobbie's door and I knock. "Bobbie." There's no answer. I press my head against the door and listen. But I don't hear a single sound.
"Where are all the light switches in this place!"
The door that was open before slightly opens again. Creaking, *tic tic tic tic*, with each ungreased turn of the hinge. "Shit. Hey, stop playing around."
There's laughing coming from behind me. It sounded like a little kids. Too young to be either of the boys. Followed by smaller footsteps. It sounded like they were barefoot. "Hey, this isn't funny. I'm going to tell your mother when she gets home." I take out my phone and turn on the flashlight. "When is she coming home?" It was almost 8:30, when I realized that we never set a time.
I hear footsteps again, they were odd. Almost like falling. Like a toddler learning how to run for the first time but the hollow ground sounded as if the person was much heavier. I shine my flashlight over the hall. "Shit." The dog was sitting on all fours in the corner. It was facing the wall. I couldn't even see his face. Every hair on its body completely still.
"Hey," I called out. "Come here." I clicked my tongue. "Come here." The dog didn't move. I couldn't even see it breathing.
Bang! It sounded like thunder behind me. As if someone dropped something on the floor. As if something fell off a shelf or was pushed. I jumped around and shone my light down the west wing. I didn't know if I should have been more or less afraid now that the door was closed. "Bobbie? Max?"
God. I did not want to try the door. And I stood there for a minute before realizing how stupid I must have looked. These were some rich kids playing a joke on you Camilia. I know it. The thought of their smug little faces made me stomp out of my frozen state. I took a couple of strides over and grabbed the handle.
"Fuck!" The thing was hot. "What the hell! You guys could have hurt me," I yelled. I banged on the door. "Open up. You two are in so much trouble." I banged on the door again. "Open the door. Right now!" I could hear something on the other side. It sounded like shuffling. Heavy furniture perhaps. "You guys better not be messing things up in there. I'm not going to clean it. I mean it."
I banged on the door. "I can hear you in there! Now come on!" I put my hands on my hips and tapped my foot. "I'm waiting. Your little jokes over now." I banged on the door again.
That's when the door knocked back.
It wouldn't have scared me. I don't think. Except for the fact that I was surprised. And alone in the hall. Without any of the lights on. In a strange house. And before I could say anything else. Another door behind me knocked from the inside. "Shit. Both of you are in on this?" I grabbed the handle to the other door. It was also locked. I banged on it. "Come out right now. Max?"
But then a third door started knocked from down the hall. I felt my throat clump as I tried to swallow. "You guys weren't supposed to have anyone over." The knocking didn't stop. It kept echoing down the hall. "I'm not getting paid for three kids you know?"
Tat-tat-tat-tat. Tat-tat-tat.
I took a single step. And then all of the doors in the hallway suddenly started banging.
I almost tripped as I ran toward the stairs. The doors were thundering on so hard I thought they would crack their hinges. I skipped the stairs, the sounds chasing me as I tried to not fall and break my neck. When I got to the front landing I hear someone say my name.
"Camilia. Are you okay?"
I'm trying not to choke on a lung here as I shot my eyes toward the kitchen. The kids are sitting on the barstools lining the counter. There are two plates in front of them. As if they didn't hear the drumline upstairs.
"Is it dinner time yet," one of them asks quietly.
"Max?"
He smiles.
"Kids. I think there's someone in the house." I rush over to grab each of their hands. Bobbie's wrists are limp but it was Max's hands that shocked me. They were ice cold. I tried to let go but my fingers wouldn't uncurl.
He turns my hand over and says, "There's no one else in this house except us. I promise."
"No," I wasn't about to listen to the kid even if it was his house. "Something is wrong. We have to go. Now." I pick up Bobbie and he doesn't seem to want to move. "Come on Bobbie. Let's go." He looks over at Max who shrugs and get out of his seat.
Bobbie follows as I drag them toward the front door.
"Camilia," Max says.
"What?" He looked scared. Which made me turn toward what he was staring out. At the front door was a tall figure. I couldn't see its face through the glass. It was a stark figure of a man.
"Do you think it's your dad?"
Max shakes his head. I feel him pulling against my arm.
I call out to the man, "Hey! Who is it?" The man doesn't budge. "I'm calling the police." I turn to Bobbie, "Get the phone." He doesn't move. "Hey!" I'm trying to sound as angry as possible. "Get the fuck out of here!" I grabbed a roll of painter's tape from the side table and hurl it across the hall, hitting the glass squarely in the face where the man's head stood blocking the exit. He doesn't even twitch as the glass shakes.
"Come on," I grab their hands and rush to the back. I don't get 10 steps before I feel a scream crawl up my throat making me cough. The man was standing at the sliding door. "Fuck!" I drag the two of them with me towards the kitchen. It's a big place so there had to be a way out to the garage. We push through one of the doors and end up in the laundry room. The next door gets us out into a 3 car garage. My hands find the glowing green opener against the wall and I hear the opener fold seamlessly towards the ceiling.
It started with his feet. Then his ankles. His shins. Then his legs. Light poured in from behind him from the streetlamp. I watched as the door went to his waist before I hit the button for the garage to close, before rushing back inside. We make it into the kitchen to where I still see the tall man standing at the sliding door. A part of me wants to hide in the laundry room but I didn't want to be sandwiched in the middle of the house. So I pull the boys back up the stairs, back to where the doors banged themselves. Taking out my phone as we ascended, and called 911.
"This is the police operator speaking."
"HELLO", I hope they could hear me, "There are several men trying to get inside!"
"Men? Are you in any danger?"
"No! But they have us surrounded!"
"Why don't you go outside?"
My tongue suddenly felt numb in my mouth. Like I didn't know what to do with it. "W-what?"
"It's stranger in the house."
The line went dead as we hit the hallway.
I only took my eyes off of them for a second before Bobbie. Or Max. Runs down the hall. The one or the other already slipping through a door ahead. I look back down the stairs and see that the man is still standing in front of the doorway. I look back up and see the other boy also going through the same door. I take a single step and the doors start pounding on either side. I shut my eyes and turn around. Afraid to go. Almost deciding that these weren't my kids. That I should run away. I take a step backwards mouthing that I was sorry. But I was too scared to go! "Max! Bobbie!" My back foot sticks to the floor. I don't want to look down but the next step sticks too. I point my phone to the ground and see a trail of blood. And just behind me. It's the dog. Split right down the middle, its spine shiny and white, still facing the wall. I could see its organs still pulsing.
I couldn't go back downstairs. I couldn't go the other way. I couldn't leave them here. I couldn't be alone.
I ran after them. The thundering of the doors following me as frames fell to the floor. A vase rolled off a table in the hall. It came crashing at my feet. I run my shoulder through the door, except it wasn't locked. Which caused me to go crashing, sprawling to the floor. Running into the desk in the middle of the room.
The study.
Many of the books were off the shelves. The carpet was torn. There were curtains on fire. It was the first time a saw a window as they burned.
"Camilia!"
I hear one of their voices shouting at me.
"Camilia!" It came again. "Help!"
I get to my feet and start working my hands along the desk. I didn't have to search far. The bookcase directly behind the chair had been swung open. "Camilia!" I wipe the blood from my eyebrow where it had split and step into the tunnel behind the secret passage.
The tunnel started off tall and wide, but as I kept walking in. It got smaller and smaller. I started having to hunch. Several times I decided to turn back. But their voices would echo through, calling for me. Asking for help. "I'm coming!"
"I can't hold on! Camilia! Please!"
The twins cry for help bounced off the walls. I was finally on my hands and knees when I finally see two holes on either side. I'm afraid to look but then one of their voices came through clear as day. "Camilia." It was right in my ear now. I turned to see the boy naked and huddling, hugging his knees at the back of his hole.
"Camilia! Help! I don't want to play this game anymore!"
"Bobbie?"
"Help me!"
I look into the hole, the walls are pressing on my back and there's dust going into my lungs. I can barely turn my shoulder. "Crawl out!"
"I can't!"
"Crawl out! I'm right here." I take out my hand, "Come on!"
"Camilia!" Came a voice from the other side.
I turn my head and see Max in the other hole.
"No!" Bobbie shouts at me. "No!"
"Hold on," I tell him. "I'm going to get both of you out of here."
"No," Bobbie cries. "It's all his fault. He's the one that did it. He's the one that wants to get out!"
"Bobbie, what are you talking about."
"He's the one that put something in your drink so you'd fall asleep!"
"He's lying!" Max's voice rang through. "It's him! I saw him. Always in father's study! Reading those books! Trying out those things he reads. Those curses. Those spells. It's why the shadow men are after him! Camilia! You have to believe me."
I can hear Bobbie crying, "Why are you lying! I don't want to play anymore," he screeches. "I don't want to play!" He sobs. "You said you'd go away if I told you that I didn't want to play anymore."
I don't know what made me do it. It sure wasn't the nauseating squealing tantrum of the boy which made me reach for him first. Maybe it was because I wanted him to shut up. I don't know but I plunged my arm up to my shoulder in to grab his collar.
Instantly I screamed and saw tiny spiders, short thing legs with round white backs crawl over my arms. I shook my arm in the hole, trying to smother them against the walls. That only caused these long brown flat slugs to fall. I saw one land on my hand. It had three distinct tendon-like lines running across its back and was about a half inch long. I pulled my arm out of the hole as I felt it pierce its flat head into the back of my hand. I dropped my phone and heard it crack as the light splintered in the small, suffocating tunnel. But I didn't care as I looked at my hand and saw it burrowing its tiny spearhead below my skin. I grabbed at the wiggling tail still exposed and tried pulling it out.
It was like trying to pull our barbed wire. The spines on its body were facing me. So with each pull they dug deeper inside. I could see blood pooling under my skin, it was starting to turn purple as I tugged on its tail even harder. Until it gave. Popped right off and lay twitching in my hand. The head missing.
I couldn't take it anymore. Really. I had tried my best. I shake my head. "Bobbie. Bobbie. I'm sorry." But it didn't matter. When I looked over at Bobbie. He was covered in it. All of it. Even the spiders.
My jeans started shifting as I tried to wiggle myself out of there. But I hear Max's cry again. "Camilia! Please!"
"No," I whimpered. Shaking. I couldn't reach my hand in there again. But his voice was so scared. More scared than the pain I felt.
I shot my arm inside. Bracing. Waiting for the pain. But there was none. Instead my hands grasped around his collar and I felt his cold clammy skin, and yanked him from the hole. He came without much struggle. His face covered in the soot of it all. "Camilia," he cried. "You picked me. You did it."
I didn't have the heart to tell him that I almost didn't.
"Come on," I cried. "We. Have. To go."
The two of us wiggled our way out of there, crawling on our hands and knees, and running when we could. We finally make it back into the study. And the fire is roaring now. One of the books fall from the shelves and when it hit the fire I swear it started screaming. There was so much smoke that I couldn't see. And the door was covered by the flames.
I pointed to the window, the curtains on the floor in ashes. I kick the window. It didn't budge. I coughed. I kicked it again. The glass shook. I kicked it again and my foot went through. Pieces of the glass still hung in the frame, I use the tips of my fingers and pull them back. They fall to the floor cracking until there was a hole big enough for me to get through.
I plunge my head out and take my first breath of fresh air. The moon was full and the sky was clear. I could hear sirens coming off in the distance. When both of my feet were on the roof. I reach my hand back and grab Max from the burning house. Together we run across the clay tiles and climb down the arched tree. The red fire truck comes screeching to a stop as several firemen help us down.
One of them pushes a breathing mask on me, and wraps me up. The neighbors are outside, and the police arrive. I see a familiar car come roaring down the street, screaming to a halt as Molly runs out. Her face is flustered and she's shouting. Pushing through the cops until she reaches me next to the ambulance.
"What happened," she literally screamed at me.
"I'm so sorry," I tell her. "There were these men." I take another breath. "I couldn't do anything! B-but I saved Max! I saved him!"
She looked at the house. It was blazing now in the cool night. "Oh my god. Is Bobbie still in there?" Molly starts to cry. "My baby!"
"Max. But Max." I cough. "Max is okay!"
And she turns to me. I wasn't expecting her to be grateful. But there's anger on her face. "You didn't save my son. But you saved our dog?"
I shake my head. "No. Max. Your other son." I looked around but he was nowhere to be found.
​
s

Hello fellow members of the broken lung. I'm in the process of getting diagnosed with adult onset asthma. I'm a bit skeptical that it's what I really have because I don't think I present in a typical fashion. I don't have the best health care either so that adds another wrench into the mix. So for about a year or a year and half, I would get sick with a sore throat and it would come and go every three ish months. It was brushed off as allergies. Then I developed a bad cough that nearly broke my rib. Then I was put on albuterol and a couple of allergy meds. It felt like everything was melting from all my face holes. My eyes wept, I got an ear infection and I lost my voice entirely. But since then, I haven't gotten sick. I do always have a little phlegm in the back of my throat and my throat can feel tight. But I also have acid reflux so I can't what is what. I've never felt short of breath (though now I'm starting to think I have, I just attributed it to my weight) and I've never had an attack. I did have a chest CT that showed a minor plural effusion. I had a breathing function test that didn't show anything but the general consensus is that I just wasn't having symptoms at that moment. My doctor does hear wheezing when she listens. Asthma does appear in my family and I'm currently on Singulair and Wexela and seem to help. Do my symptoms match your guys?