The following document was written by Father Maximus Vazquez during the Spanish Inquisition. Tasked with uncovering heretics in Barcelona, Father Maximus became notorious for his cruel treatment of Muslim and Jewish immigrants. By all accounts, his ability to elicit confessions through torture was unmatched in all of Spain.

Only one woman, a Jewish heretic named Talia, mustered the courage to endure his torture chamber.

What follows is Father Vazquez’s horrific response to her bravery.

---

I’m at my wit’s end. I’ve been interrogating the same woman for two weeks, but she still refuses to decry her heresy. How she has endured my pincers and strappado for so long, I do not know. She hasn’t opened her mouth once during her time in my chamber. It’s as if she is unable to feel pain.

A priest with less experience would take her courage as a sign of God’s grace.

But not I.

Her disdain for Catholicism clogs the air and fills her eyes every time she gazes upon the tapestry of the passion draped behind my desk.

So tomorrow, I will put her through my true test: exposure to The Artifact.

It’s been years since I’ve used The Artifact, but I can’t think of a more opportune moment. For who better to expose to the horrors of Hell than such an insolent woman?

I pray that her descent into madness comes slowly. I want to savor her despair—savor the crumbling of her faith.

Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.

---

My hands are shaking as I write this. Not only am I fatigued, but my mind burns with questions.

The heretic’s reaction to The Artifact perplexes me. Never before have I seen such an intense response to the pagan chalice.

Perhaps by relating my experience on this tattered page, I will make sense of what seems unexplainable on the surface.

I entered my chamber just before sunrise to find the heretic asleep in her chains. Her restful face filled me with anger. Burns and lacerations covered her body. That she could endure the inflictions of my instruments—many of which I forged myself—challenged my ability to perform my holy duties. Given that I’m the most revered inquisitor in Spain, I cannot allow peasants to make a mockery of my art.

I must succeed where others fail. My work is God’s work.

To fail means to tarnish God’s glory.

So I approached the heretic on silent feet and lowered The Artifact to her lips.

Her eyes flew open as liquid splashed onto her tongue.

“Spill a drop,” I said, “and I will break your legs.”

Not wanting to test the tru

33F. I have mild chronic sinusitis for the past ~10 years.

About 2 months ago I woke up in the middle of the night with double vision and half my face numb. Went to the ER and the CT scan was normal so they sent me home saying I had a migraine.

All this time i have still had double vision. I have seen a neurologist who thinks it isn’t an emergency and who has scheduled me for a bunch of nerve tests (first two this Tuesday). I have had MRI with/without contrast of the brain- normal. I have a scheduled appointment with a neuro-ophthalmologist on Dec 6.

I have nerve pain that comes and goes in my temple, eye, and the corner of my jaw. I’m seeing Drs so I know I don’t have to post here, but honestly I’m really scared this vision problem is going to be permanent. My neuro mentioned something about nerve palsy. Is this reversible if that’s what it is? I have diploplia and generally my left eye feels like it has a shade in front of it. I’m getting depressed about this whole thing and don’t know what I’d do if this can’t be corrected.

I am also seeing an ENT who says my sinus problems are very mild and would not cause these symptoms.

Any thoughts?

F27 5'4 140lbs white have epilepsy controlled with Lamictal since I was 11. Drink 1x weekly no drugs no smoking.

Three days ago I randomly got one dialted pupil. pupil No pain. Nothing new in diet or routine or meds. Went to optometrist and he said probably tonic pupil and come back in a week. Then I contacted my neuro and she ordered an MRA.

MRA results report

I am otherwise very healthy. Exercise 6x per week. Eat healthy. Live fairly stress free and happy. I scheduled with a vascular neurologist 3 weeks from now. How worried should I be? What questions should I ask at the next appt? What should I be aware of? Etc

EDIT: The pupil is on opposite side (my left and mirror image of pic) of found aneurysm so my regular Nero said they're not related. I scheduled an appt 3 weeks from now with a vascular neurologist.

I have been instructed by my psychologist, Dr Goodwin, to at least share my experience with a stranger. He says it’ll help alleviate the urge to cut; he says it’ll help to alleviate the suicidal thoughts. I’m never confident enough to open up to friends and family, the idea of being vulnerable in front of loved ones is just insufferable. I’m always afraid that they’ll think I’m crazy. It’s bad enough that Dr Goodwin doesn’t believe me. He thinks that my bottled emotions had gotten the better of me which caused a psychotic and hallucinogenic episode. The constant compounding of stress, sleepless nights and a failing marriage must’ve all taken its toll on that night, he thinks. But I don’t care what you think nor what you say. I just need to share my trauma; I just need to get it out of my soul once and for all. So I suppose the internet will do, so I suppose you’ll have to do. But I do warn, however. What I’m about to write is something… unearthly. It’s as if H.P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe and Stephen King all got together to create the magnum opus of horror. For those who have weak stomachs and or weak hearts, I highly discourage you from reading my experience on Route 66. Please, heed my warning. And also heed the following: do not travel on Route 66 between 1 am - 3 am. If you do, you best pray for a quick death for being alive to tell the tale is a fate worse than death.

‘God, I thank you for this blessed burger that I’m about to devour whole. Amen’. The smell of my beef burger with sriracha mayo transformed my mouth into that of a water fountain. I first stuffed my face with a handful of chips, then I went in for the burger kill. Like a tiger sinks his teeth into his prey, I chomped down fast and hard. In my imagination, the ketchup and radish that squeezed out made my plate look like the leftovers from a bloodied feast. In my awe and satisfaction of the divine taste, I glanced around the diner and noticed just how bland and soulless it was: The white walls, grey-tiled flooring and mustardy-coloured ceiling rescinded any sense of jovialness within the joint. The tables and chairs didn’t give any justice, either. Organised into two rows, the pearly steel chairs and brown tables looked incongruent against the black booths that were alongside the windowed wall. And the singing mechanical bass that hung above the entrance was a poor excuse to add atmosphere. This place would be a perfect backdrop for a wedding, I thought. The diner itself wasn’t that m

The first time I saw myself, I looked very wrong.

I was in school. My hands were still dripping wet from washing, the icy cold wending its way down my wrist and entangling in my medical bracelet. The river reached my sleeve, and I winced. This school was already too fucking cold, and this shit wouldn't help. My fingers hit bare metal when I reached into the paper dispenser. Of course.

I left the bathroom, turned the corner to walk through the door to class, and saw a figure outside, peering at me through the stacked blocks of glass. Some were frosted, some were not.

The half face that I saw through the unfrosted glass was my face. But not.

At first I thought she (I?) was smiling. But then I saw her (my?) eyes. Her eyes were not mirthful. Her eyes were murderous. But that rictus grin....

She sprinted away. I ran to the nearest door, hoping to catch her. But as I burst through, I could see she was already gone.

I told my parents that night. My dad's hands went wild for a second, knocking over his glass of port. But both my parents laughed, assuring me that it was probably just a trick of the light or the way the glass obscured her face. Their laughter had a hysterical edge to it. That's when I noticed that a lot of what they did seemed a bit hysterical these days.

I saw her (me) again 2 months later. Her but...not her. I was walking alone through the woods near my house. It was getting dark. I was gathering pretty stones, leaves to press, hoping for an animal bone or some kind of specimen. My cough was especially shitty that day, dry and wracking. I'd already bruised a rib from coughing last month. Sick of this shit, I thought.

She didn't bother to hide this time. My eyes strayed briefly from the path below and I noticed her standing directly in front of me, a few dozen yards away. Thin, bedraggled, me but not me. This one was not smiling. I could not see the color of her eyes.

I did not want to see the color of her eyes.

She starting...crouching? No, not crouching. Her joints suddenly flicked and cracked, crackled and bled. Deep crimson blood oozed like cold syrup wherever her limbs snapped to their new shape. Little breaks like new ice crackling under the winter sun. Her body became a snarl of limbs, some meant to contact the ground, some not. She froze. Her head tilted, very slowly, like a curious kitten. Then she rushed at me, so fast, it was like a spider, her elbows and jutting bones charging me faster than I would have believ

It’s nothing vulgar or untoward. It’s not illegal or harmful in any way. It’s just a little strange. Well, extremely strange after last night.

Like any millennial with a liberal arts degree (theater arts, no less), I’ve struggled to find jobs where I get to use my skills. Sure, when I was a receptionist, I got to use my fake smile and laugh pretty often when paunchy businessmen made passes at me, but that’s not really a challenge. I live for a challenge.

Which is why I took the job I have now. Or at least, used to have. After what happened last night, I’m thinking of putting in my two weeks.

I’m a professional mourner– an actress hired by people to come to funerals and wakes and other memorial ceremonies and pose as a distraught friend or family member. Professional mourning has a surprisingly long history; you can see it referenced in the Bible, even. The way that we do it is relatively new.

Because our job is to blend in discreetly, I can’t tell you the name of the company. They make all the actors sign NDAs about certain things. Just posting this here is a major risk, but quite frankly, I wouldn’t be upset about getting fired. We have a website that’s only accessible if you have the correct password, and the passwords change often. Our clients are usually not regulars so we rarely get anybody in a tizzy about the inconvenience.

On the site, you can see pictures, ages, and backgrounds of all of the actors. For example, if you’re looking for an older Middle Eastern woman to participate in a Muslim funeral and pose as the deceased’s sister from Saudi Arabia, you could scroll through until you found someone you thought was suitable.

We get hired based on a myriad of factors: how old we are, how much we resemble the deceased’s family, how well we blend in with the community, and our cultural and religious knowledge. Users on the site can read through our biographies as well as the anonymous reviews left by other clients to decide if we’re a good fit.

The selection process is meticulous but quick. Most of the time, I’m hired along with four or five other pale, blonde actors of various genders because we resemble each other and could pass as family. Our clients tend to be the well-off types with money to spare, but very few genuine friends or connections to call on. It's a little pathetic, but it pays my bills.

Speaking of which, I’ve been a little hard up for cash lately. What with the state of the world right now, there have been plenty of funerals

Secret societies of human psychics called greys and invading aliens, aka what happens when the Shil'vati recruit the grain of truth behind the human myths of vampires and sorcerers.

Somehow I think shil crawl spaces would be huge...

First Previous

Part forty-three: Ahriman

The temperance once underway felt crowded, analysts and engineers, scientists and house nobles, marines and military officers ranging from logistics specialists to the militaries own collection of techies and number crunchers making up about two hundred.

And then there was the interior, seeing the sixty or so women and occasional man trying to throw their weight around and constantly being rebuffed by the military who knew exactly where the interiors authority began and ended was endlessly amusing.

Then one tried to pull rank and demand to interrogate the prisoner.

The fact that one of the men behind her carried a selection of medical gear and that a chair loaded up with restraints was being wheeled around behind them.

Edgar had been feeding his rats when the confrontation occurred, closing the cage and hissing his displeasure he moved to the door only to have it open to a pair of goons in the hall to delay him.

They both looked at him and Edgar noticed something… blue rings around the eyes, and he could hear their thoughts.

Seriously two goons with the metal barely a month in their systems against him?

The first folded as he telekinetically twisted her guts inside her body, that’s why even when facing another psychic, you raised your barriers it stopped them grabbing your innards.

Barriers block telekinetic and pyrokinetic attacks

The second recoiled in shock and with a snarl from Edgar put her head against a bulkhead with a resounding clang.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Kerithane was not liking the situation, she had been on guard and now she was staring down an interior woman with blue eyes, that meant the metal was very well established in her body, Keri by comparison still only had a faint blue ring in her irises.

Then she heard Edgar roar, he swept the others behind the woman off their feet and threw them back then barrelled straight into her, she flew back past Keri and had barely got to her feet when Edgar as if shadow boxing kicked upwards

Now this is just the prologue so keep in mind that it is happening/happened at a different time from the main story. It is purposefully vague. That being said I hope it meets with your satisfaction. Please Enjoy.

+ Chapter 1 +

_________________

Prologue

The light from the burning planet below cast crazed flickering shadows through the thick armoured glass of the viewing port, the death of a world lighting a dark imposing figure and casting their silhouette upon the underlings behind them. With a savage grin at the haunting sight the figure turned and with slow measured steps traced their path back the raised walkway to their command throne. The soft murmur of the command staff in the sunken workstations to either side subsided as they strode forth. As they slowly lowered themselves into its comforting embrace with a small sigh a wretched creature scuttled up to the foot of the throne and bowed on shaking legs not daring to utter so much as a whimper out of fear of the figure before them.

“Rise and bear thy news, I am curious to know of our success.” The Figure bade the quivering creature before them in a commanding tone.

With a small voice near paralyzed with fear the messenger spoke “S-s-supreme One, I”

The enthroned figure waved their hand for silence which was immediately granted as the messenger's quivering mandibles snapped closed. Leaning forwards slightly and casting their piercing gaze upon the wretch they smiled cruelly, “Your voice betrays your fear, and fear is a weakness, I give you but one chance to prove your resolve, pray to your pitiful gods that they may grant you peace, for I shall not” with this statement they leaned back into the throne resting their chin on one of their heavy armored gauntlets.

With a perceivable effort the skittering creature straightened itself with a lurch and took a moment to compose its shaking legs before starting again in a clearer voice. “Supreme leader, I bring the news from our spinward front. The burning of the Thousand Celestial Stars has been successful, as has the scouring of the Greanth Empire. Minimal losses have afforded the opportunity to push past the Defensive line of the Great Ones and hit their supply systems almost unguarded. My Supreme leader, They are retreating!'' With this last declaration of savagery he stepped back a pace waiting for his master's edict.

Yesterday, I decided to commit suicide, so I went out into the woods at dawn, planning to take my own life in the splendor of the sunrise; a final moment of light in what had been a persistently dark life. Looking back now, it seems lame, almost comically dramatic. But I’m not posting this to talk about myself, and my reasons for having wanted to die are not important. I now want to live, need to live, if only to relate a story that isn’t my own, but one that is, unfortunately,  ultimately details the end of another’s life.

I found a leather-bound journal, evidently a fairly expensive one—judging by the page quality and general construction—lying in a shallow ditch, near the spot where I’d planned on taking my own life. The ground around it was disturbed, as if, sometime during the previous night, its owner had struggled to superficially bury it before being dragged away. There was a great swath etched away in the dirt to suggest and support this conclusion.

Aside from the dirt, there were a few stains on the surface of the journal, and more than one page was covered with—or stuck to another by—dark splotches – presumably blood. Darkly intrigued, I decided to forestall my self-destruction, and left the woods with it in my possession. I’ve always enjoyed reading, especially the journals and stories of people who’ve endured terrible or chaotic events, and my curiosity was no less potent at that moment, despite my resolution to die. Thankfully, I hadn’t announced my suicide—directly or subtlety—to anyone, and was able to return to my home without having to explain myself or dismiss worries.

I read the journal once, and then when my nerves returned to me and I’d finished pacing around my bedroom, I read it again, this time with a morbid fascination. I’ve now decided to copy the entries, word for word, onto my computer in a document, and will be uploading them online, so that this person’s tragic, grisly, and terrifying story can be shared with the world. They cannot do it themselves, and having found the journal, it’s now my duty to give voice to their tragedy. It is a long story, so I will relate it in parts. I can only copy so much at a time before becoming filled with anxiety and a sympathetic terror.

There seem to be a few entries missing, most notably in the beginning, where the person’s story seems to pick up in the middle of the horrific experience. Later on, they make vague suggestions of the nightmare’s origin, but the “first” entry is m

Eating copious amounts of fish and chips has sadly not changed my mother tongue to English. Spelling and Grammar may wary

[first part](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/rg7wlj/primitive_design_consultant/)

[Last Part](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/rv2wf1/primitive_design_consultant_part_11_preperations/)

[Next Part](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/rz1s25/primitive_design_consultant_part_13_meet_the_team/)

##Primitive Design Consultant Part 12##

William

Today is the day Will has feared and anticipated for weeks. It has been hard for him but in the end the procedure is over. Today is the festival of blood and the rite of bonding. For the first time Will would enter the communal areas. The yard was originally built out of an asteroid. Said asteroid has over the years been hollowed out leaving a cavern with structures built into its walls and suspended from the roof.

“This must be to remind of home.”

He mumbles to himself lost in the strange constructions covering the chamber.

“Yes Kamishar, after the fall of our home the first mothers decided to create an imitation of the caverns we used to live in. I am the spirit mother. It is my duty to care for and maintain our rites and traditions.”

Will snaps around towards the voice seeing a Rotokan seemingly on the older side, her scales having dulled slightly. The Spirit mother is wearing intricately patterned clothing and stands tall for a Rotokan reaching up to his chin.

“Didn't see you there. Did I put this on wrong?”

He says trying not to lose his nerve by distracting with the strange tribal looking clothes he's been given.

“Calm your heart, and yes the robes of the Kamishar is worn correctly.”

Then all the lights dimmed and a slow drum beat start reverberating through the cavern as people congregate in ever larger groups traveling towards the center.

“Can you hear it? The whole clan is beating as one. It is a wonderful event.”

Using his now more sensitive hearing will could distinctly make out the hearts of those around him beating with the drums. All except his own. His anxiety is now overtaking him. Maybe he can't actually become part of the clan? Were those words Sorrisk described him w

104 AD

Tourney of Maidenpool

She was a girl of sixteen, thinking herself such a woman, to have caught the attention of a king.

Father was a naysayer, of course, and he knew the king best. That was the Hand’s job. Viserys had his cold Vale queen, who had not given him any sons, but Alicent had seen his eyes cast to her. For the first time since the old king’s death, since she had put her book down and read her last words to him, she felt important; as though the court had finally realized she was no longer a child, no longer a nursemaid to an old man or the skinny little imp at the Hand’s side. And even though Father said the king’s eyes were not straying, he had bought her a new veil, and a pretty necklace of gold, and hinted that she must take greater care with her appearance than before.

She had not been able to cease smoothing her hair behind her ears, at the tourney for the king’s ascension, that summery year in Maidenpool. She did it to cool her nerves, and to steel her own confidence. During the jousting, her hands had twitched a perpetual back and forth from her sides to her ears, brown eyes darting here and there across the field, trying to understand the constant commentary by her father to his king. They did not think she was listening, perhaps, but she was. She wanted to know all the sigils and all the lords’ names, what they had done and what they were doing. She wanted to know what the king knew, because he kept looking at her.

“Lord Willem Buckler,” her father murmured in Viserys’s ear, as a knight in royal blue, with something bronze upon his sigil, rode up to cheers and hoots from the Stormlands crowd. Alicent craned her neck to listen. “A man of strong opinions. His squire, the Fell boy… they say he shows much promise.”

Father knew everything. He must know something secret, then, because Alicent thought the boy was rather ordinary, aside from the pale color of his hair. She caught his furtive glance up to the center of the stands, up where crimson and black waved grandly, and wondered if this was the first time he had beheld his king. She wondered if there were butterflies in his stomach, as there were butterflies in hers.

Alicent had turned to ask Father if House Fell had any renowned warriors in their history, but Father and the king had already turned their conversation back to Ser Criston Cole… the knight with coal-black hair and icy blue eyes, that had stolen the heart of every maiden in Maidenpool, except for hers. F

A normal erection is characterized by the rigidity (hardness) of the penis and an increase in its size. This requires the cavernous bodies of the penis to be filled with blood - the more blood flowing into them, the harder and larger the penis.

It is well known that blood enters any organ through the arteries and flows out of it through the veins. The penis is no exception. At rest the blood flow along the arteries is equal to the blood flow along the veins, but for an erection to happen it is necessary that the blood flow is much greater than the flow.

The mechanism of erection of the penis

1. The brain transmits a command to the cavernous bodies of the penis via nerves.
2. The result of this command is the release of so-called nitric oxide and the relaxation of the smooth muscles of the cavernous bodies.
3. Accordingly, the walls of the cavernous bodies become more elastic and more blood flows into them through the arteries - the penis begins to increase in size. This process is called tumescence.
4. There is a lot of blood going into the penis at this stage, but some of it flows back out through the veins, so there is not enough rigidity (hardness) of the penis. If at this point you do an ultrasound of the penile arteries with a determination of the blood flow rate, the rate will be 35 - 40 cm/sec (at rest 8 - 10 cm/sec).
5. Penis gradually increases in diameter and veins that are located around cavernous bodies are squeezed between cavernous bodies and proteinous membrane, i.e. blood flow through them significantly decreases.
6. Blood flow through the arteries remains at a high level, so the penis quickly increases in size and becomes hard.
7. The cavernous bodies of the penis are maximally filled with blood, they can no longer be stretched, so the blood flow decreases, and the outflow practically stops. This is the stage of rigid erection and you can have a full sexual intercourse!

This is how it normally happens. However, often during intercourse blood gradually "escapes" from the penis - so the erection is unstable and can disappear at the "most responsible moment"! This is what is called arteriogenic erectile dysfunction.

Lately, the PE forums of the world have sounded the alarm about erectile dysfunction in guys who have been doing PE for a long time (often incorrectly!) while not having real sex with chronic masturbation.

There are a number of medical articles that show that guys erectile dysfunction is often caused by:

• chron

García Ramírez had the distinction of being the sole member of the first crewed mission to the Kuiper Belt, the first human to travel using nuclear pulse propulsion, and the first to both make contact with aliens and be imprisoned by them.

García floated against one corner of his cell, flipping through the pages of his novel with clumsy spacesuit gloves. The words were hard to read in the poor light and his visor made the task that much harder. But he didn't dare take off the suit and expose himself to the sulfurous atmosphere which filled the alien ship.

He also didn't dare to raise his gaze for longer than necessary and expose what remained of his psyche to the alien architecture around him. The prison cell curved around him in one continuous green wall, broken only by the entrance and rib-like arches that made the entire space feel like the body cavity of a great beast. Yellow orbs inset into the wall at random intervals provided lighting.

García missed his spaceship, Stanisław Ulam. He remembered with fondness its pristine white interior and blinding LED lights. His hands longed to touch blinking buttons, switches, and silver knobs while his lungs craved the air recycler's perfect emulation of the Chihuahuan Desert. Most of all, García longed for the might of the nuclear pulses which enabled him to lead humanity's exploration of the solar system.

All these things were now being disassembled and scrutinized in the cavernous hold of this alien vessel.

But he couldn't focus on that, couldn't let the abduction and subsequent situation eat away his mind. He needed catharsis and found it in the novel he had smuggled aboard during his capture. Venus Unbound was an account of humanity's war with a fictitious civilization on the planet Venus. The first two acts covered the Venusians' attempts to conquer Earth and convert it into a cloud-shrouded swamp like Venus (as depicted in the novel). The third act, which he was in the middle of, had the tide turn in humanity's favor. Resistance fighters stood atop the mountain of alien bodies they had created and proclaimed the invasion of Earth over. Afterward, the nations of the world, united against a common enemy, swore loyalty to both humanism and the new world government. Never again would man raise arms against man. Never again would the hungry, the homeless, the hopeless be left to die. Never again would—

García's reading was interrupted when the entire cell convulsed in peristaltic motion as its door pe

27F, 5'6.25", 112 lbs, Native American and White. I live in the U.S. from the Midwest but move south in 2016. (apologies in advance for the length of post)

Existing medical issues: Psoriasis (on scalp and has recently spread to torso and legs), calcified cyst on left ovary and right ovary has fibroids, enlarged liver, "potential" focal nodular hyperplasia and cavernous hemangioma on liver, mild hydrocephalus. Gallbladder removed in 2019 (full of stones and did not appear on HIDA scan-was considered "dead"). Contracted C.Diff infection from surgery in 2019 - but treated in 2020, 8 months after surgery.

Previous misdiagnoses- Celiac Disease/Gluten intolerant (Dec. 2018), and Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome (Dec. 2020)

I use an ecig and use .6% nicotine in it.

Current medicine: Zofran and birth control (drospirenone and ethinyl estradiol tablets 3mg/0.02mg)

I'm at my wits end here. I have been sick since 2017. It has been a slow decline but each year it seems to be worse. I have had weight loss, but doctors don't seem concerned because it's not drastic. I was 141.2 lbs in 2018. By 2019, I had dropped down to 118lbs. I fought to maintain the 118lbs in 2020, but it did not work out well and I dropped to 114lbs earlier this year. Now I'm at 112lbs.

My GI specialist is unsure of what is causing not only my symptoms but also my liver enlargement due to the fact that there is no indication of fibrosis or cirrhosis and my liver blood tests come back normal. When the FNH and cavernous hemangioma were scanned in 2020 (noticed on ultrasound when I went in for my gallbladder in 2019) my liver was not enlarged. My upper endoscopy comes back normal (no inflammation or high acid, esophagus is fine) and my colonoscopy just shows hemorrhoids. My pancreas is fine. Gastric Emptying Study came back normal as well. My albumin levels are normal which my GI specialist told me this means I'm not malnourished so that makes my weight loss even more of a mystery. My GI specialist told me that whatever is going on is not a GI issue but is presenting itself as one.

I went for a brain MRI in August 2021 and it showed I have mild hydrocephalus, lumbar puncture came back with normal pressure. This has stumped not one, but two neurologists. Because the pressure is normal they don't want any surgery (which I am thankful for), but they are unsure if it would cause my symptoms. They are also unsure what caused the hydrocephalus as well since I do not have tumors, signs of strokes

“Do we need another girl?”

I was used to him asking me questions, sometimes ones that didn’t even make sense. But this one surprised me. He’d looked at me with an odd glint in his eye that I’d never seen before, not even as a kid. He’d always been a quiet withdrawn man, disinterested in anyone who wasn’t my mother. But something about the sly tone of voice made me feel like I’d glimpsed some part of him I shouldn’t have, and I struggled to think of anything to say in response. In the end, all I managed was,

“What do you mean?”

He briefly looked angry, but some kind of realisation dawned on him and his features softened to sullen disappointment.

“You Nettie’s boy?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve been looking after you for the last few months.”

He turned his eyes to his frail legs before eyeing the beeping machine and the oxygen tank that sat next to the recliner. After a long pause, he sighed and his shoulders slumped.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” I asked.

He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.

“Why not?” he grunted before blowing his nose.

-

“It was only meant to be two,” he said from his chair, and something in his voice made me look up from the dishes and give him my full attention. He sat dull eyed and staring at the muted TV.

“Three girls,” he carried on. “A trade with that thing in the basement. You know books’ll say these things like rules but that’s just a waste of everybody’s time. If these things followed rules they’d be working like the rest of us.” Something about that image made him laugh, and I realised it was probably the first time I’d seen him smile since moving in. “What is it with people, eh? Acting like you can make rules up for a world that we all know damn well will do what it wants when it wants. I remember thinking to myself, why two? Why does it have to be two girls?”

He laughed, and this time it wasn’t so playful.

“What were we gonna do once it gave us what we wanted eh? Give it back? No. It had us on the hook and it knew it! It asked for a third, a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth.”

He turned in his chair and looked at me and I realised he wasn’t really rambling or trapped in some long forgotten memory. If anything he looked more lucid than he had in the entire three months I’d been caring for him.

“None of them were easy. No one follows anyone into a basement without getting spooked. None of them knew why, exactly. But they knew enough. Hardest thing I ever had to do...”

With that he turned back a

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Although I set the contract aside, I couldn’t help but let my gaze temporarily linger on the folded parchment. After the day I had, I didn’t want to read it right away. Instead, I decided to take Isaac up on his surprisingly decent advice. A hot bath with scented candles sounded amazing, and it absolutely was – and very much needed. Nevertheless, my mind never stopped racing

Against my will, images of the electrocuted man kept replaying in my mind on a loop, no longer even remotely held at bay. Along with them was the phantom feeling of Isaac’s cold, strangely strong grip around my throat and the disdainful look in his eyes – the venom in his voice – as he reprimanded at me in front of Lester’s cage. No matter what else I tried to think about, none of it left my head. So, I decided to keep myself busy and hope that focusing on something else would at least mitigate the memories’ impact. Since I would be living here, I decided to finally clean the cottage.

All the supplies I needed were either under the bathroom sink or in a tiny hall closet, so I got right to work. Busily, I scrubbed the kitchen, cleaned rotten food from the fridge, removed the coffee stain from both the table and carpet of the main room, and eventually vacuumed the bedroom. But, of course, the damn vacuum got stuck on the bedroom’s rug.

It was a decorative rug that sat between the bed and the door. Lavish, red fabric made up its majority with gold, tassel trim. Weirdly, wispy, black designs resembling smoke swirls or something similar also seemed to swim within the deep crimson thread. Overall, the carpet was mystical and entirely out of place in the tiny cottage, but I kind of fancied it and feared ruining it.

Cursing, I quickly turned the vacuum off and yanked the rug’s corner from its grasp. Thankfully, the rug was perfectly intact, but it still needed to be cleaned. With relief, I began to roll it up with intention of beating the dirt off outside. But halfway through the process, I revealed what looked to be a square of planks mu

For context I'm a Refuse Driver (Garbage man) & today I was on food waste. After I'd tipped I was checking the wagon for any defects when I spotted a lone pea balanced on the lifts.

I said "hey look, an escaPEA"

No one near me but it didn't half make me laugh for a good hour or so!

Edit: I can't believe how much this has blown up. Thank you everyone I've had a blast reading through the replies 😂

Context: The Dark Eldar screwed up with the world spirit of the Exodites, the psychic reaction threatens to destroy the Webway, the solitaire Motley directs incubus Morr to save the situation and the warlock Caraeis from Biel-Tan wants to kill Morr and calm the world spirit so that he is honored as a hero and he can climb the career ladder... Caraeis and Dire Avengers enters the chamber of the world spirit, which manifests itself as a dragon. At this moment, he realizes that he has been manipulated by the Lord of Change all the time.

>Caraeis plunged a hand into his satchel of runes, grasping one and bringing it forth to hold aloft like an icon. He would destroy the incubus, annihilate the violator utterly and save the world spirit of Lileathanir. It was hard to grasp his own powers and marshal them in the face of the turmoil all around him but grasp them he did. He poured every ounce of his ability into summoning the deadliest manifestation of psychic power that he knew of – the eldritch storm.
>
>  A lenticular blaze of blue-white lightning ravened across the cavern, bright bolts crashing into the looping coils as they sought out the dark speck within them with unstoppable force. The rune between Caraeis’s fingers blazed with light, growing hotter and brighter by the second as he channelled unimaginable energy through it. The lightning of the eldritch storm clashed with the unleashed fury of the dragon, provoking an earth-shattering howl that bludgeoned the mind and blasted the senses. The rune was shining like a star, its retina-burning image piercing the amber lenses of Caraeis’s mask.
>
>  It was only then that he realised he had made a mistake.
>
>  He had sought the rune of vengeance, he felt sure that was what he had drawn forth from the satchel, but the image burned into his sight was that of the rune of weaving. His concentration was shattered by the shock of recognition, the eldritch storm dissipating in an instant. He flung the treacherous rune away, his mind filling with horror at the implications.
>
>  The rune of weaving had many meanings but behind them all lay the weaver of Fate, also known as the Chaos Power Tzeentch, the Lord of Change…
>
>  Into his mind there came unbidden the hundreds of times that the rune of weaving had led him upon this path. A push here, a shove there. The guiding rune always twisting at the center of it all, seeming to feed on his ambitions after he first perc

They’re on standbi

It really does, I swear!

Pilot on me!!

https://preview.redd.it/2ove4jyzkfa81.jpg?width=780&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=33fae43c40a9383b1c43a3143f075c5168086f03

Find the first chapter here: https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/ry8fwr/frostbound_chapter_one_the_beast/

T'aakshi

Hunger. It coursed through him as unyielding as the tides themselves, cavernous and never-ending. It never stopped, and neither did his hunt. He loped through the deep snows with a lithe ease that belied his size. They were close. He could smell them. Feel them. They would struggle, he knew. Resist with biting iron, resist with every ounce of their meagre strength. It would do them no good.

His eyes found the first of them before they noticed him, the howling winds impairing their vision and cloaking him behind a wall of cruel white. But he could see them clearly, and even if he couldn’t, their scent would be enough. He surged forward, already half-tasting the warm tang of blood across his tongue, and lashed out with his claws.

His father’s face contorted, fear and pain and betrayal etched across it as he fell into the snow. He froze, hunger overtaken by nausea even as his prey, now aware, struck at him in their panic. Father? The unfamiliar concept rolled around in his mind. There was only prey and himself—there had never been anything else. He reached out, scooping his prey from the snow and bringing it up to eye-level.

Grey eyes stared back. Eyes he knew. Its mouth opened and closed, slick with blood, but instead of the unintelligible bleating of the other prey, another sound left it.

“T’aakshi, why?”

He lurched back, prey falling from his hands. The world spun but the sounds persisted as though the prey was right beside his ear.

“How could you—“ He felt the icy touch of the snow as he sank to his knees. “—Kill—“

His hands were warm, slick with some kind of liquid. T’aakshi looked down, only to be met my his father’s severed head, eyes empty and mouth twisted in shock.

It moved.

*“*Why?”

T’aakshi bolted upright in his bed, slick with sweat, and immediately hissed and clutched at his bandaged side as broken ribs reminded him of their presence. Scant candlelight flickered against the pinewood walls of his part of the family home, and the deep shadows it cast twitched and jerked like fresh-hunted game. The stern-faced master of herbs had instructed him to stick t

I want to start by saying this: I wasn't a gangster. I don't like the word. Didn't then, still don't. I was a businessman. My business just happened to be crime.

Here's the thing though, right? I've been a straight goer for thirty years now. The old bill never managed to nick me, to catch me on the job and send me down. I got out as soon as I had enough scratch to fly off to Ibiza and stay low. That's where I'm writing to you from, my sunny bungalow while Wife #5 makes Martinis and I enjoy a Mediterranean breeze I don't deserve.

She barely speaks a word of the Queen's. I'm not too good at Spanish, neither. There's something I've wanted to get off my chest for a few years. Due to… well, the doctor advised yesterday that I cancel any long-term plans. If I don't share this now I won't get another chance. Bless Wife #5, but she ain't the ear I need on this one. I need someone who'll understand my words. All my words. I'm still wanted back home, and I don't know who in the old crowd is trustworthy these days or even still breathing, so you lot will have to do.

Now, I got up to a lot of things back in the day. More'n one fella caught a slug in the chops to pay for the years of paradise I've enjoyed. Am I guilty? Nah. That's not what this is about. I never done someone that weren't holding a shooter or a blade themselves. This ain't a remorseful confession because I don't have any. It was what it was, which was business.

This ain't about what I did but what I saw, and how I learned I'd never come close to the depravity of what real evil is. A single night, halfway through my stint as Bethnal Green's Billy Big Bollocks, the only night I wasn't the most dangerous thing in the room.

The year was 1976. I don't remember what month, but I know it was winter because I was freezing my tits off. I had three of the lads with me; Big Steve, Nicky the Shimmy-Shaker, and Screwloose. Big Steve's name was ironic. He was a little fella, barely over 5ft, but he had a mean kick and wasn't afraid to kneecap anyone dumb enough to cross me. Gangling awkward Nicky was known as the Shimmy-Shaker because of the way he'd bump and fumble into oblivious tourists and walk away with their wallet/jewelry/etc. Young Nicky was good in a scrap, and of all the firm he was the one whose loyalty I never questioned. As for Screwloose… well, you only get a name like Screwloose one way, and that's why he only came out on jobs like this one. The big jobs, the ones where you know it's

Grandpa Cobalt hated letting things go.

Whether it was the wobbly chair he kept in his study or his favorite warped record he fed to the gramophone—looping the same groove over and over.

He was a tall man with a frosty thin hairline and a nose capable of the most powerful of snores. Due to the amblyopia, his right eye was the good one, while his left always drifted a few degrees off, coasting its own orbit. He called it his “fish-eye.”

My Grandma, on the other hand, was a short, petite woman who had a voice that never spiked or got frazzled—even if you were on the thinnest of ice. She sang hymns while she cooked and she had loved to chase me around the room so she could peck my cheeks with kisses. I always called her Gram-Gram (creative, I know).

The two of them preferred the country lifestyle, occupying some patch of land amidst the backroads of Ashe County. Far away from buzzing suburbs, but just close enough to the nearest grocer.

I remember being eight and thinking their house looked just like a Christmas card in the snow: An all-American Saltbox with dark, wooden siding, a steeply pitched roof, and an old red pick-up that seldom left the lot. In the years after the last holiday trip, our interactions had been limited only to brief phone conversations and the periodic seasonal wishes. My grandparents did not come to visit, and neither did we. I sometimes felt sad how close my friends seemed to be with their relatives, and, frankly, I blamed it all on the living distance between us.

But the reality was, we were an estranged family, and rocky relations with my father had left a seismic gap between both parties. I never did learn all those lurid details, but I know it involved a lot of money.

I was going through a rough patch in my sophomore year, from dealing with an asshole ex taking all my friends to getting into a fight with one of the worst girls in school. She had tormented me through the entire 10th grade year, and after complaining and having nothing done about it, I dealt with her myself.

In fourth period Chemistry, she and her snickering vultures always sat right behind me. This particular time, one of their murmurs reached me: “You really think she does?”

I turned and looked at her, dead in the eye, “Does what?”

Her lips curled into a spiteful smile, “Stuff your bra—you do, don’t you?” Nice and loud, for the whole class to hear.

Next thing I knew, I had grabbed her by the hair, knocked her backwards from the desk, and jumped

Dad jokes are supposed to be jokes you can tell a kid and they will understand it and find it funny.

This sub is mostly just NSFW puns now.

If it needs a NSFW tag it's not a dad joke. There should just be a NSFW puns subreddit for that.

Edit* I'm not replying any longer and turning off notifications but to all those that say "no one cares", there sure are a lot of you arguing about it. Maybe I'm wrong but you people don't need to be rude about it. If you really don't care, don't comment.

What did 0 say to 8 ?

" Nice Belt "

So What did 3 say to 8 ?

" Hey, you two stop making out "

I won't be doing that today!

“Would you mind telling me what happened?”

“Are you sure? It’s a little on the long-winded side. I know how you hate things that go on and on…”

“Well, the way I see it, we have all the time in the world. Given the unique place we’re in.”

“The unique place? Where are you referring to?”

He smiled.

“Everywhere”

I

Never underestimate the lengths someone will go to to fulfil a lifelong desire.

As I sat in my room with my list of essential items, as dictated by the book, I contemplated how I’d even gotten here some months prior. It’s astounding how just one piece of information, one decision, one solitary but powerful emotion can push a person to places they never thought they’d go to.

But, here I am, wrapping up the head of a Deer in delicate parchment paper, careful to ensure that it’s folded 47 times. Not 48, not 50, 47. The blood soaking through the bottom and giving it a crimson hue that paired well with the beige. Beside it sat a serrated hunting knife, the bone of an Elk, the skull of an Owl, 2 incisors from a bear and a small mixing bowl with various herbs.

All given without resistance or pain, as the book dictated.

I carefully placed them into a burlap sack, tightened it and placed that in my hiker’s backpack before donning my winter gear and getting my dog, Bastion, before heading out the door.

I knew I may not ever come back again.

The Doorway, said to be guarded by the mythical lord Janus, has been referenced in many cultures and across the millennia by scholars. What lay beyond it, of course, differs from person to person. Treasures, curses, god itself, you can take your pick. Some say the door manifests to wandering travellers when they least expect it, offering them whatever their heart desires at the cost of something unseen; likely their sanity or an empirical value, they would have no way of knowing about at the present moment in time like an unborn son. Others postulate that it appears to only those chosen by the gods, with the right blood and belief systems in place.

But the most scintillating of practices and rumours are the ones found in The Book Of Gnomes that, after a decade of tireless searching, had finally come into my possession at an auction. They gave the most likely of answers to the location of the door. One stooped in ancient human culture: Offerings.

Written some time in the 8th century and translated largely in secret during the dark ages, it contains the secrets of England’s woods and the ancient creat

Original Post

THE TIPPING POINT

I stared at the patinaed sign in front of me. The edges were corroded and some of the letters faded, but it was still legible:

EXTRATERRESTRIAL CONTAINTMENT PROGRAM

Now, I knew when I moved into the Oval Office that my security clearance would be unlimited and I would be briefed on the best kept secrets in the Western world, but I hadn't prepared to meet E.T. the first week on the job.

“Madame President.”

Kevin, the head of my detail, motioned to the keypad set into the wall. “It needs to scan your biometrics for entry.”

Right. I took a step forward and placed my hand on the cold glass display. A bar of red light scanned my palm, I felt a pinch in the pad of my thumb, and then the screen blinked green. I pulled my hand away, seeing a speck of blood welling up from the pinprick.

The heavy door snicked open.

I may be new to the role of President, but I’d learned to wait for secret service to move ahead of me and sweep any room I was about to enter. But not one of my protectors took a step forward. A discreet cough from Kevin drew my attention.

“They only allow one human to visit a decade, Madame President. The area is … secure. Please proceed when you’re ready.”

Allow? Curiouser and curiouser … I pushed the heavy door open and stepped through it. I didn’t have time to glance back at Kevin and the rest before the door slammed shut behind me.

In front of me was a narrow hallway, illuminated by blue emergency lights. Seeing no other path, I started down the corridor until I came to a large, cavernous room. A chandelier hung from the center of the high ceiling, a Persian carpet covered the rocky ground and well-appointed leather couches set across from each other were the only accoutrements in sight. Well, that and the bar cart that was fully stocked.

“We-e-elcom-me Mel—iss-a.”

A disembodied voice slithered around me, echoing in this space. Glints of red flashed from the dark crevices, but I held my ground, willing my body not to show a hint or scent of fear. This greeting was a standard power move, aimed to knock me off balance. I’d done this dance too many times not to recognize it.

“We haavvee been waiittting foorrr youuu.”

On that ominous note, I swore I saw flashes of red eyes move towards me from the dark, but I ignored it and crossed to the bar cart. McCallan No. 6, yep that’s the stuff. E.T. had obviou

"Translation..." the scraping of metallic vocal cords was broken with fractured puffs of feeble air from its compressor etrenched where its belly used to be. The electric thrum of static indicated the servitor's processor was hard at work. The voice it produced was a fabrication and no more, the lobotomized vessels mouth lay open with slack jaw and eyes vacant as the cable that jutted into the back of the connection unit jolted as it scanned the vast archives of sacred knowledge. He shuddered as he made brief eye contact. The whites of its eyes matching clouded cataracts that looked around but saw nothing. The eyes themselves could have rolled back into its sockets decades ago and he'd be none the wiser. This one was a translator, a conduit for a thousand languages and thousands more long dead. The thick cable, slick with lubricating oil was loose on the back of its spine, the rest was a limp torso jutting out of the wall with swaying arms. Whatever remained within was the most critical to survival; the rest undoubtedly sold a galaxy away by the looks of sloppily stitched scars that still looked raw. He knew better than to wonder if its lower half still existed, enshrined and undoubtedly withered to sinew and bone. He offered thanks to the Emperor that steel wall panels  that composed the corridors entire length, miles long obscured its view. The cable clicking and popping with electrical energy, requiring a full reattachment. He considered calling a Tech Adept, eyeing down the poor excuse for life that dribbled before him but steadied his resolve. Time was short and personal sacrifice was required. He reached forward; the metal of his artifical hand and the heavy cable clinking like cups of hyper-alcohol celebrating some inane success. A sharp shunt re-inserted it.  Some life, if you could call it that, returned with a crank of neck muscles which electrically twitched and cramped with each contraction. He recoiled away lest skin contact occur. He had some time to spare as the servitor waded through legion of binary sequences and layers of digital vaults in search of its prize. He would rather gaze upon heretic scripture than that creature any longer so he chose the blank, never-ending corridor to gaze down. Miles upon miles of underground passageways that if he could see through the darkness, he would see the curvature of Terra itself. Signs lined its edges, signalling inumerable chambers, many eroded on their hinges; the dank wetness forcing its presce

Do your worst!

27F, 5'6.25", 112 lbs, Native American and White.

(apologies in advance for the length of post)

Existing medical issues: Psoriasis (on scalp and has recently spread to torso and legs), calcified cyst on left ovary and right ovary has fibroids, enlarged liver, "potential" focal nodular hyperplasia and cavernous hemangioma on liver, mild hydrocephalus. Gallbladder removed in 2019 (full of stones and did not appear on HIDA scan-was considered "dead"). Contracted C.Diff infection from surgery in 2019 - but treated in 2020, 8 months after surgery.

Previous misdiagnoses- Celiac Disease/Gluten intolerant (Dec. 2018), and Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome (Dec. 2020)

I use an ecig and use .6% nicotine in it.

Current medicine: Zofran and birth control (drospirenone and ethinyl estradiol tablets 3mg/0.02mg)

I'm at my wits end here. I have been sick since 2017. It has been a slow decline but each year it seems to be worse. I have had weight loss, but doctors don't seem concerned because it's not drastic. I was 141.2 lbs in 2018. By 2019, I had dropped down to 118lbs. I fought to maintain the 118lbs in 2020, but it did not work out well and I dropped to 114lbs earlier this year. Now I'm at 112lbs.

My GI specialist is unsure of what is causing not only my symptoms but also my liver enlargement due to the fact that there is no indication of fibrosis or cirrhosis and my liver blood tests come back normal. When the FNH and cavernous hemangioma were scanned in 2020 (noticed on ultrasound when I went in for my gallbladder in 2019) my liver was not enlarged. My upper endoscopy comes back normal (no inflammation or high acid, esophagus is fine) and my colonoscopy just shows hemorrhoids. My pancreas is fine. Gastric Emptying Study came back normal as well. My albumin levels are normal which my GI specialist told me this means I'm not malnourished so that makes my weight loss even more of a mystery. My GI specialist told me that whatever is going on is not a GI issue but is presenting itself as one.

I went for a brain MRI in August 2021 and it showed I have mild hydrocephalus, lumbar puncture came back with normal pressure. This has stumped not one, but two neurologists. Because the pressure is normal they don't want any surgery (which I am thankful for), but they are unsure if it would cause my symptoms. They are also unsure what caused the hydrocephalus as well since I do not have tumors, signs of strokes or hemorrhages, or meningitis. I also had a normal birth.

When I got home, they were still there.

You take away their little brooms

So I’m copying my previous post from other subreddits but my friend who is going to school for medical stuff mentioned how he thinks my BC contraceptive could be causing my issues. I began my current BC in the fall of 2018 but I was on a different BC before that for about 6-7 years. In December 2019 I had my gallbladder removed. Just for an idea of how long I’ve been on it. But has anyone experienced symptoms like this from BC?

“27F, 5'6.25", 112 lbs, Native American and White.

(apologies in advance for the length of post)

Existing medical issues: Psoriasis (on scalp and has recently spread to torso and legs), calcified cyst on left ovary and right ovary has fibroids, enlarged liver, "potential" focal nodular hyperplasia and cavernous hemangioma on liver, mild hydrocephalus. Gallbladder removed in 2019 (full of stones and did not appear on HIDA scan-was considered "dead"). Contracted C.Diff infection from surgery in 2019 - but treated in 2020, 8 months after surgery.

Previous misdiagnoses- Celiac Disease/Gluten intolerant (Dec. 2018), and Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome (Dec. 2020)

I use an ecig and use .6% nicotine in it.

Current medicine: Zofran and birth control (drospirenone and ethinyl estradiol tablets 3mg/0.02mg)

I'm at my wits end here. I have been sick since 2017. It has been a slow decline but each year it seems to be worse. I have had weight loss, but doctors don't seem concerned because it's not drastic. I was 141.2 lbs in 2018. By 2019, I had dropped down to 118lbs. I fought to maintain the 118lbs in 2020, but it did not work out well and I dropped to 114lbs earlier this year. Now I'm at 112lbs.

My GI specialist is unsure of what is causing not only my symptoms but also my liver enlargement due to the fact that there is no indication of fibrosis or cirrhosis and my liver blood tests come back normal. When the FNH and cavernous hemangioma were scanned in 2020 (noticed on ultrasound when I went in for my gallbladder in 2019) my liver was not enlarged. My upper endoscopy comes back normal (no inflammation or high acid, esophagus is fine) and my colonoscopy just shows hemorrhoids. My pancreas is fine. Gastric Emptying Study came back normal as well. My albumin levels are normal which my GI specialist told me this means I'm not malnourished so that makes my weight loss even more of a mystery. My GI specialist told me that whatever is going on is not a GI issue but is presenting itself as one.

I went for a brain MRI in August 2021 an

This morning, my 4 year old daughter.

Daughter: I'm hungry

Me: nerves building, smile widening

Me: Hi hungry, I'm dad.

She had no idea what was going on but I finally did it.

Thank you all for listening.

There hasn't been a post all year!