Apologies for all the text, this is after I trimmed too…
TLDR: My sister (also engaged) got angry and told me I was crazy when I told her what my wedding plans were under the guise that it’s because she cares about me and doesn’t want me to feel like I have to placate my fiancé. Am I missing something?
My fiancé (M29) and I (F28) got engaged back in March. In each of our perfect worlds, I would do more of a traditional, small (30-50 people) wedding and reception, while he would prefer to travel somewhere beautiful and have a special/intimate ceremony with just the two of us. We both knew this prior to getting engaged and knew we would need to compromise when it came time.
Well today we finally sat down, set a date, and talked about how we were going to navigate our differing views. We went back and forth between two options but eventually decided to go with my original idea.
The current plan is, we will go on a vacation and get married in a private ceremony just the two of us in November 2024. It’ll be romantic and special and truly just for us. We will still get a photographer and have photos taken during and after (one of my musts). Then, on our first anniversary, to the day, we will have a renewal ceremony and reception with more of the traditional wedding vibe with our friends and family. We both really like this idea and feel that it addresses both of our wants.
I was excited so I called my dad and step-mom and told them the plan. Obviously they would like to see us get married, but they agreed that this was the best compromise, and family would still get to see photos, a ceremony, and celebrate with us on our first anniversary. Then I called my sister (F26) who is also engaged and is having a 150 person, black-tie formal wedding in February. I am the MOH. As we are both engaged, we have talked about our potential weddings together on several occasions and I described what my “perfect” wedding would be if I was the only one making the decisions, but that it’s my fiancé’s wedding too so obviously it won’t go exactly like that.
Potentially relevant context, I am a very laid-back person. There’s not a whole lot I’m picky about and am generally good with just rolling with whatever. My fiancé on the other hand, is quite particular, not controlling, more so he is confident in what he wants. This dynamic generally works well for us and when something comes up that I have a strong opinion on, he knows I’m serious. I’ll admit, early on in the relationship I was a bit of a pushover (thanks BPD mother) and would sometimes vent to my sister, but with therapy I learned how to set appropriate boundaries and speak up for myself. My sister’s fiancé is more like me and usually just goes along with whatever my sister wants.
So…. after calling my dad, I called my sister. I told her my plan, that it was my idea, and that I was happy with it, and she FLIPPED OUT. She got really angry and told me that the idea was crazy. Part of the idea is MAYBE going to a state where you can self-officiate and she was like “WTF you’re not even going to have someone else announce you and marry you???” She asked why we wouldn’t do our private ceremony and then celebrate with everyone immediately after or a couple weeks after. I explained that I still wanted to do a ceremony with our family to give them an opportunity to witness it. She freaked out a little more and told me that when I tell other people in our family that they would also tell me how crazy I was being (not knowing I had already called my dad), and then hung up on me…? She then proceeded to call my dad herself to tell him what I told her.
I texted her asking what her deal was and she responded “I’m angry because I care and love you. I wish you would do exactly what you want on your wedding day – not whatever makes him stop whining. This isn’t what you said you wanted 2 weeks ago. “
So internet strangers, am I missing something? Is that idea stupid or crazy? Now I’m second guessing myself because she reacted SO strongly. I find it hard to believe that someone would react like that under the guise that it’s because she cares about me… especially when I STILL GET EXACTLY WHAT I WANT, just on my first anniversary instead of the day we sign the paperwork. Does she think that now I get two days and she has her one wedding day?
Someone please tell me what you think and how I address it with her when she inevitably calls me back.

21 M here, former partner of pwBPD, son of a pwBPD, half orphan, survivor of domestic violence both in childhood and partnership, survivor of PTSD and severe panic attacks.
I have so many thoughts and yet don't want to get someone having a stroke while reading through a stockpile of text.
It's been 3 months now since I've broken the cycle of hell. 3 months since my nearly 5-year relationship terminated. I think, I see it clearer, now. I've gone through trillions of thoughts, I've learnt as much as I could about BPD. I've hopefully helped many people on here or in person with understanding of their situations and the illness, they encountered.
How do I feel? Absolutely lost. There's been so much drama and so many tragedies in my life that I just can't stand my life. I'm trying so hard. I work for children, in primary drug prevention. I study diligently and have great successes at school. I speak several languages, play various musical instruments and live a well-ordered life. Still, I don't love myself because everything around me always ends up as a disaster.
This relationship was the very something I lived for. My only motivation to keep on. I love(d) her so damn much. It was really tough since the first year, tho. I won't come to details of the whole relationship, as I already have posted about it. But she was extremely manipulative and only now do I realize how much and how often. PwBPD are not all the same and I want to say, I respect that and don't intend to generalize. In my case, she loved having issues. Frequent crises, arguments, mood swings, changes of perception. When we moved in and she lost a daily contact with her parents, it was me who became the problem. Towards the end of our relationship, she completely lost any respect for me and used me like a rug. She started calling me names, making scenes in public so that I seemed as a total abuser, gaslighting, emotional blackmailing, humiliating, she hated my friends, hated my projects (podcasts), hated my opinions and everything I did was just wrong. She blamed me for receiving an orphan's pension while she has to work and blamed me for not taking her out or buying her shit more frequently.
I was so lethargic. Didn't know what to do. She found herself some friends at work and started hanging out with them after work. I remember going for her to work, in winter. It was freezing, outside. She left me waiting outside for an hour only to tell me that she was in a pub, the whole time I was waiting for her. I stopped going there. And she hated me for that. She expected a total devotion in exchange for the hell she put me through.
Then, she broke up with me. Just like that. But it was weird as she told me that she loves me. I asked her about any other guy and was told she doesn't have any nor does she want anyone else.I went home, to my parents. Later on, I found out she wanted to make out with her colleague and she broke up with me so that she doesn't have to feel guilty. She wanted to do that and then come back to me, not knowing anything and even begging her to come back. He rejected her anyway..
After breakup, she immediately posted new photos on IG, seemed so indifferent but when I returned to our dorm room, I saw, it was a room of a total mess. I found our photos on the desk, our products still displayed and my t-shirt, she clearly still slept in it. So damn weird. That's when it got really really suspicious.
I didn't know anything about hoovering. She did it. She stalked me to school and made a huge scene in front of my classmates about how she still loves me and won't make it through summer without me. I rejected her and told her to go away. A few days later, I just went to the room again and I shouldn't have done it. She took a pose. A mask of arrogance so that I can't hurt her. The first thing she said was that she's happy without me. It made me angry and confused because it didn't make sense as she told me how she still loves me, at school. I spat all the shit she put me through, at her. I didn't scream or anything, but told her everything I felt. She acted so indifferent but I could see tears flooding her eyes. And this actually haunts me. Shit.. she was just testing me. Relied on her statement that I'd be "crawling back if she'd broke up with me".
That's why I'm so conflicted. Her manipulation was with an intention to prevent me from breaking up with her and to make me needy enough to do whatever she wants. I left her in shock as I agreed on breaking up. So she tried to hoover me. She still does a negative hoovering by doing everything I ever openly feared she would do and trying to make me jealous. I've blocked her everywhere but she always finds a way to get to me.
What a life lol

Excuse the length, it's a lot.
My ex and I dated for 11 months. We started dating last January when we met on Tinder. He was super cute, experienced, and quickly became the most interesting part of my life. We only really fought about one thing and that was his lack of communication during breaks, like Spring break and Summer break. He lives 2 hours away from campus too, so whenever he visited family I just chalked it up to him being busy and stuff, but it got really annoying during the longer breaks. Summer we even almost broke up because it was like pulling teeth trying to get him to text me more than twice a day, let alone a weekly phone call.
Anyway, Fall semester comes and we’re golden, literally the perfect relationship I’ve ever had and I’m in love. That is, until Thanksgiving break, and the story gets convoluted from there.
He goes on his trip and I’m expecting the same ol’ radio silence. I’m like whatever, it’s fine, I know what to expect, I’m not bothered. Until he posts on instagram a “Happy Birthday” post about his high schooler sister, in which he includes a bunch of stuff from over the years of them together. One photo, the last one, is clearly taken from their Thanksgiving dinner with family and it's cropped to only be him and his little sister standing together and smiling. I can see, wrapped around his bicep, a young and pretty woman’s hand who has red, done up nails and it’s looking a little too-intimate for any family member. It’s cropped so all I see is her hand on his bicep, and I’m petty so I screenshot the post, circle the hand, and text it to him like “who’s that?” He tells me “My aunt.” And I totally call bullshit. But, like I said, I’m petty. So I play the waiting game.
He gets back and he sleeps in my dorm (my roommate had mono for a month so he practically lived with me for privacy from roommates lol). I wanted to get into his phone but didn’t know the password, but I prepared for this. I did a little research and found out that Android’s Face ID thing is able to be opened up with pictures of them sometimes, so I hold up a picture of him from my phone in front of the camera and it works. I end up finding out that Tinder is still on his phone, I look and BAM. He’s still chatting up other girls. I even look through his snapchat and find some of the names there lining up with the girls he’s talking to on Tinder and they have snap scores of UP TO 100 DAYS??? HOW. I wake him up right there, at 3am, and kick him out. I get my girlfriends to come with me to his apartment to exchange our things and block his ass, done and done.
Only… it isn’t done. Apparently one of my friends forgot to unfollow him on instagram and his next post is during Winter break where he POSTS AN ENGAGEMENT POST?! My friend obviously saw this, sent it to our group chat, and all my friends and I are freaking out. This guy didn’t even tag the girl either… So my friends go detective mode, find her, and it’s up to me to be like “hey girlie…”
Only… this girl… BLOCKED ME. Admittedly, I might be dumb. I sent the message “Hey girlie, I used to date [his name] and wanted to let you know” and I totally didn’t realize how unhelpful that is. A couple of my friends tried messaging her too to be like “your fiance is cheating on you” but she told them to stop harassing her and blocked them too. It genuinely sucked not being able to help the girl out, but all my friends and I decided like “we tried, she can figure it out the hard way.”
Fast forward to February. I’ve been on Tinder for awhile and have been wanting to get a date for Valentine’s season, so I’m working overtime trying to find someone who fits my standards, and lo and beyond I FIND HIM. He’s got a whole new profile from the one I saw last year and I asked my undercover friend who is still following him on instagram to see he STILL has the engagement post up. This man is a chronic serial cheater.
I’m like fuming at this point, totally feeling vengeful and bored with nothing else to do. So, I use my friend’s phone who doesn’t have a Tinder profile, and we create one together to catfish him. We even facetune my face and literally make his dream girl. I know he’s into platinum blonde girls with brown eyes, so we edit me with those features. We even make the profile catered to him, mentioning his favorite game using those Tinder prompts like “My biggest turn on is… The Death’s Poker in Elden Ring” (we thought this was really funny). We even put our favorite song as his favorite song too, trying to make us his perfect match.
After a couple days, my friend and I are hanging out and swiping on the catfishing profile until we see him. We swipe and MATCH.
Over the next couple of hangouts my friend and I are getting the rest of our group chat of 3 other girls to help us write the perfect messages. We’re acting cute and flirty, his perfect little dream girl.
The goal is to get evidence of his cheating and proof it's actually him texting because we’re all lowkey scared if we bring this up to his fiance she’s going to accuse us of harassing her again and making up this profile. So, after a couple girls nights of torturing his man on Tinder he asks to move to snap. I use my phone for this and make a new snap, my girlfriends and I are pre-making facetuned photos of me at my friend’s house so he doesn’t recognize the background of my dorm. At some point we ask him to send a snap of himself too, and he does like half of his face. I save it and text him like “Soooo cute” and he’s like “Not as cute as you”, and I screenshot the exchange. Snapchat alerts him and he starts being like “Why did you do that??” and I tell him “It’s a sweet message I wanna keep” and he’s like “you can just save the message to the chat… you don’t need to ss.” Which is very sus and tells us he’s guilty.
Anyway, I’m going on and on. Basically, my girlfriends and I continue texting him to drag him along. Eventually we kinda think we have enough evidence, but then one of my friends is like “what if we make him break up with his fiance for you and then you dump him?” At the time, to be fair, I’m with all my overly excited friends and they’re all like “yeah!!!” so I feel pressured to agree. It definitely feels weird, but I’m ngl I enjoy the extra drama in my life sometimes, as shitty as that is to say.
From mid February to all the way where he graduates, we’re texting pretty often. I try to keep an emotional distance so everything I tell him about myself are lies, avoiding any half truths. Eventually my girlfriends get kinda bored and move on to other things, but I’m stuck behind making the plan see an end. It gets a little intense eventually, I won’t lie, and a couple times I had to fake sickness to avoid whenever he’d ask me out on dates. It’s not really a fulfilling affair, tbh, so I think the only reason why he liked this catfishing profile is because it said everything he wanted to hear. Anyway, eventually he starts transitioning into being SUPER lovey dovey and he’s literally saying I’m his dream girl. Duh. And, literally, two weeks ago he confessed everything to me.
Guys, I invited all my girlfriends over the moment I got the text and totally cried in their arms over what he told me. This entire time, since Junior year of high school, he’s had a long term girlfriend. She goes to a local university in his hometown, so they only see each other when he visits, but he stopped loving her after meeting me. He left out the part where they’re engaged, but he told me he’s gonna break up with her once he moves out of his apartment and moves back home. He’s hoping to see me before he does though, and wants to make a plan for me to visit him over the summer.
I am absolutely heartbroken in the most selfish way. I really feel for his fiance as he’s definitely had over probably 20 affairs while being in college away from her and she has no idea, or at least chooses to ignore it. On top of this, finding out our previous relationship was a lie hurts me. He told me he loved me and we spent so many days of the week together, but thinking back he totally had other dates too. This is seriously crazy. And I feel crazy for contributing to his cheating streak knowingly. I didn’t think it would get this far to be honest, and the fact he’s willing to break up with this poor girl over a fake one he still hasn’t met is psycho.
When he told me, my friends helped me type up a message that boils down to “Wow, that’s a lot. I need some time to process this information.” and we’ve since been ignoring all his messages on snap.
Another aspect is that, while this has been happening, I’ve also been actually dating people and did meet this one guy I really like. It’s getting weird now living this double life. This guy and I are getting closer and I realized I feel ashamed at the thought of telling him what I’ve done, so I’ve been reflecting.
Ultimately, as lowkey guilty as I feel, I do believe he deserves it on some level. The fiance doesn’t, but deserves better. I’m breaking up a couple, but with good reason.
How do I get out of this situation? I’m so stuck.
TLDR: I posed as my cheating ex’s dreamgirl to break up him and his fiance, but things feel too intense. How do I get out of this situation? .

I (22M) and my (22M) best are currently on non speaking terms after he called my (21F) Fiancé fat after we got into an argument. My best friend at the time (We’ll call him Ricky for privacy purposes) Ricky had agreed to help me pick up furniture from IKEA after I had finally gotten a day to use my cousins truck the thing is my cousin needs his truck to get to and from work so I had asked Ricky if he could help me out that Saturday to move the furniture and he agreed it would be cool. I then confirmed with him several times throughout the week just to make sure it was cool and he always agreed and reassured me it was no problem. Saturday rolls around and I was calling him all day to confirm he was still okay with going etc. I noticed he was being more unsure throughout the day but still confirmed that he would be able to assist me when I finally get the truck and am on my way to pick him up I call him and he starts talking about how I’m eating his Saturday up with this task and that he never agreed to do this I at this point am pretty upset and tell him he’s good and start to call other people to see if they could help me move the furniture. Only one friend responded and he initially agreed but due to him being at a family party he was unable to go. Ricky called after the other friend agreed and asked if I still needed help I responded with no and hung up due to me being frustrated with him. I had then right after that call gotten a text from the friend who agreed to help informing me he was unable to help me move the furniture due to a family party I told him it’s cool and called Ricky and told him I was on my way to pick him up and after I told him this he started mockingly telling me I thought you were good over and over again I then got even more upset and told him i am and hung up and texted him fuck you. He did not like that cause he then sent me two paragraphs explaining that he always helps me with stuff and that he wasn’t going to take this disrespect anymore and to never ask for his help again. I responded and informed him that I have also done much for him but don’t rub it into his face and not to worry that I won’t ask him for his help again. We stopped talking for around two weeks until our mutual friend group invited us to play basketball during which we started talking again and HE unblocked ME from Instagram cause yes he blocked me. Fast forward last week we were all texting in the group chat about guns and we disagreed about guns and I told him as a joke he’s afraid to admit he’s wrong he then proceeded to call me fat repeatedly which I called him a domestic abuser due to how poorly he treats the females in his life. He then proceeded to AI Generate a picture of two fat people walking on a beach and said I am the domesticated of land whales implying that my Fiance who just gave birth 7 months ago is a land whale. I obviously got upset at this and stopped replying to him and decided it wasn’t worth the anger after a few minutes I let my anger get the best of me and contacted my mutual friends and told them to beware of sharing drinks and vapes with him because he had herpies which he does. The thing is he would actively ask to smoke or drink from their stuff, I would always tell him he needed to stop doing that so I saw it as killing two birds with one stone however, his girl is best friends with my Fiance and she texted my Fiance upset that I exposed what they had and that I wasn’t right in doing so. My Fiance is telling me I need to apologize because his girl is upset and I need to be the bigger person I Disagree . AITA?
TLDR my friend called my Fiance who recently gave birth fat so I exposed his herpes to our friends who were sharing vapes and bottles with him without knowing he had herpes

Hello everyone, I’m in need of serious advice. I (20F) am an autistic adult who doesn’t understand how romance works exactly. I have a friend (21M) who I’ve known since freshman year of high school and we’re constantly either on or off of the relationship wagon, mostly from me calling it quits. One minute I want a boyfriend and a relationship then the next minute I want to be fiercely independent. These feelings are very intense when they occur. Sometimes these instances last for weeks, making me think I want a relationship until I actually get into the relationship. Then a few weeks after we start up again, I want nothing to do with them. And when I want nothing to do with them, everything they do bothers me immensely. For instance, they constantly text/talk in a derpy or silly tone. There have been a few times where they did this at extremely inappropriate times and I’ve had to call them out on it. One moment I’ll find it endearing and the next I want to block them. I don’t know how to navigate any of this. Whenever I try to cut them off, I eventually become extremely lonely and go back to them (I have very little friends and rejection issues). I don’t know how to cut that habit of back-and-forth if I leave them again, or how to understand relationship stuff if I stay. I need advice?

26F AA , just wanted to give my input on this community & instacart as a full time job. I have an associates in science and am currently completing a bachelors in psychology & human services. I worked as a waitress for about 6-7 years before I started my previous job as a childcare worker. I recently quit that because the stress/pay ratio was staggering. I was making $800 every two weeks which is not a livable wage imo. Luckily I live with my mother for the time being. I’ve dabbled in Instacart previously (2017) but never full time. Now that I’m back, it is a lot different. The app is wack, don’t see batches from home, batches snatched quickly, bad batches, no batches. However, the fact that I can make $800 in one week. $1600 every 2 weeks is great and twice what I was making at my 9-5. I typically make between $16-$22/hour when it comes down to it. Yes it can be mentally eroding to sit in your car all day worrying over IC but I think there are some ways to approach IC that can maximize your experience.
•Be optimistic. It’s corny af but that’s how I have better days. Stressing over catching the ideal batch should not run your mind. Focus on the bright side of orders. Ones with few items will be quick & less strain on your body. Ones with short distances will use less gas & get you back to your central location quicker to take more orders. Obviously you still have to account for bs pay but it’s something to think about if you want to make more $.
•I’m not one of the 35 second per item people lmao. Something that helps me though, is if the store isn’t too busy, I leave my cart at the end cap (not blocking people obvs) and grab everything I need from that aisle and bring them to the cart. It’s quicker than pushing the cart down every aisle, especially if you’re walking back & forth or have to go around people/displays.
•I love the few item/short distance batches. Yeah it may only be $8 but if it only takes 20 minutes, you can technically make $24/hour. Those make my days tbh, Krogers Delivery Now service is always popping near me. Especially at night, bunch of late night snack orders, last minute dinner items, diapers & formula, ect. And they’re rarely more than 12ish minutes away, usually 5-10 minutes.
•Start somewhere. I’ve seen people say weekly goals are easier to meet and less stressful than daily goals. I may try this but currently I have a daily goal. It may seem practical to wait for that ideal $20+ order to start the day but I personally would take an easy shop-only order that’s $6 just to start somewhere & motive myself. Atleast at the end of the day I’ll have my $100 and not $94. And it only cost me 10 minutes that would’ve otherwise been spent waiting on a better batch. I consider the “okay” orders as supplements, something to build on so those $20+ orders look even sweeter when they hit your daily earnings.
•(Shop-only/Publix) for staging, eyeball where your bags will go. 2 bags can on shelf C3? One needs to go in the fridge on F1? Three need to go in the freezer and there’s room on D1? Put that in the app and screenshot it. “Complete” that order and have the screen open to accept more orders. Then put the tags on the bags and stage them where you’ve entered in the app while you wait for another batch. Good way that I maximize my time.
•Idk if this is poor practice but if I have a small batch and can identify the items before I “Start Shopping” I grab those items, actually click start shopping, then ring them all in at once & “Checkout”. Not for the item time, but so customers can’t add any additional items. It subsequently saves alot of time & I haven’t had anyone complain yet about not being able to add stuff. Even if you can’t grab everything grab what you can, just be sure it’s the right ounce, style, ect. Added items can really screw my time, I don’t want to spend 30 minutes on a $7 order, in my mind that’s $14/hour which is good but not my goal.
•Obviously everyone has their parameters, like many others I scoff at no tip orders😂 it’s gotta be a bad day & and a really simple ordesuper short distance. Aside from that, instead of focusing on what I won’t take, I always look out for the ones that don’t reach my typical parameters. 7mi is typically 15 minutes for me, 5mi is 10. Batches less than 7mi get a mental check. Less than 20 items also catch my eye, if they’re “normal items” (none or few heavy items, nothing I have to physically stand in line to order, ect) also get a mental green check. If the tip is rational in relation to the items, it’s a go. It’s any easy way for me to calculate time/pay because I know how long it will take me to find 10, 15, or 20 items in my regular stores and how long it would take me to drive the miles that I look out for. Once again $8 in 20 minutes is still $24/hour. $11 in 30 minutes is $22/hour. Which is great. This may feel like a bs way of thinking of it because the time spent in between orders skews all of that “hourly pay” thinking, but this is just an optimistic view I wanted to offer. Especially for those like me who don’t regularly see $50+ batches in their area, a good $30 batch isn’t even regular tbh. I live a decent sized town, outside of the city so the big orders are always like Sprouts or something to a house 15mi away or it’s a ridiculous amount of items. No thank you, it’s easier to enjoy IC when you’re not stressing your mind & body.
•Calculate what you want to make, compare it to what you currently make and see if the amount is feasible. I had to do this not only to motivate myself but it’s easier in my opinion to look forward to something specific and reasonable rather than hoping for something wonderful. And you’ll find yourself estactic on better days when you double your goal, or when you reach your goal & aren’t dead tired.
•Random asf but if I have to meet the customer & especially if they have a ring camera or glass doors I stand like a homely young women and glance around at the front of door as I wait as if I am unseasoned to the suburbs. This is probably me being a mental freak & I know some people are M🤠N and can’t benefit from this but I feel like this helps me not get the tip reduced😂 it even increases marginally sometimes. Basically I make myself small and unassuming hoping they feel like they have the power in the situation to favor little ole me -which they do but I don’t really hang myself on feeling this way lmao I just look at it as part of an act. I did the same thing when I was serving🤷🏾‍♀️ played myself up to different groups of people, used traditional “isms” with certain crowds, emphasizing “ladies first” with older people, using more animated language with younger people. It’s just a way to appeal to people and it doesn’t have to be demeaning or go against your moral compass. The IC crowd for me is typically middle aged people with families so I try to play that soft spot lol wouldn’t you want someone to tip your daughter🥺🥺🥺🤲🏾
•Also, this is customer service. Customers have been crappy and entitled since the beginning of time, though there are some angels. I feel like shoppers should poise themselves as people ready to serve the customer and not as someone doing them a favor even though you kinda are. Chat with the customer, send pics of things that are available as replacements and continue shopping. Waiting in one spot for a response is frustrating, go on shopping and if they respond you can grab it at the end and have a happy customer. If they are unresponsive I communicate that I’m at the end of the order and my typical practices for non responders which is to get the closest available item because I don’t want them to be with out something essential but also that they can be refunded for any unsatisfactory items. I have templates in my notes ready to copy/paste when I need to. Customers enjoy and sometimes reward when you cater to them and go out of your way. Yes it can be super annoying and unrewarding but this is something I already know from working as a waitress. I waitressed for so long because I was good at interacting with people and learned how to increase my earnings in a field that relies on people feeling like they should give you their money. Would you want to give your $ away if it wasn’t earned? I know people that have never worked for tips don’t typically understand the tip industry and don’t think to tip 15%-18% as a base for good service, so you do have to work for it. Not from the @ssholes that “tip” once you jump through their hoops. I just mean regular everyday people.

Hello, this is my personal perception and rant on Christianity. This will have a lot of swearing, and some political talk as well, and some other triggering topics, so be warned.
I don’t understand Christianity at all, and never will. I come from a Christian family, and though I rarely talk to them about religion, it seems that they’ve wanted to pass on the belief on to me, but they’ve failed.
Jesus focused on the good things, such as saving people, teaching good morals, teaching everyone to do good, and live a good life, and most importantly, LOVE THE NEIGHBOR.
But, everything I will be talking about here goes against that. Christianity‘s original concept was apparently supposed to be about good morals, loving eachother, and having a personal relationship with god.
Paul, on the other hand, supported rape, homophobia, misogyny, and denied free will and freedom, turning a social movement and peaceful religion into a load of dogshit. Why should men have authority for women? Simply for having a dick and being taller? Why should women dress modestly? Not only do clothes have no gender, but you can’t control what someone wears anyway. Why do gay people go to hell, is it because you want them to reproduce? Is it because the “first people” in the world were straight?? Why can’t we have desires? Hardly anyone has bad desires. Why are bodies and sex a sin?? It is one of the most natural things, and denying that makes you sound like a fucking dumbass strict authoritarian parent. Why do we deserve NOTHING and that we should force ourselves to sacrifice our lives for this cause? Also, fun fact, Buddhism is the most scientifically possible religion, and it teaches EQUALITY.
This is why I believe in letsism; I am spiritual but not religious. I borrow morals from Buddhism and little from Christianity. Equality and morals. Paul simply just gave us shitty expectations. And the Bible isn’t even correct. 95% of the Bible is just either delusional or bigoted rewrites of narratives originally from deranged and shitty assholes to fit their own, and the other 5% is ONLY gods word.
Also, It doesn’t matter if John explains how salvation works. It doesn’t explain how, what, or why are you believing in this. And besides, who wants eternal life? And we don’t know what “worse fate” he’s saving us from, which people say is hell, but why do people burn in hell for not believing in a god?? And why do we not have sex before marriage? There is no reason explaining this either. Of course, premartial sex could save you a lot of drama, but could you explain why it’s a good rule in the Bible??
I perceive Jesus more as a moral compass and a friend, rather than some guy who got sent down to die for everyone’s wrongdoings, because that’s just entirely cruel.
Also, particularly focusing on lgbtq. Yelling at LGBTQ for being “woke” and “not normal” is the entire soul of most bigoted Christians. Murders, blind approval of authority, slavery apologia, rape, pedophilia, etc. but not being able to express yourself and learn different forms of love? Not to mention, the Bible mentions a lot about sex, but the people that want to keep their children away from LGBTQ are the Christians who specifically read those versions of the Bible. Of course, you might say that god doesn’t allow all those bad things, but there are thousands upon thousands of translations of the bible.
Paul is all about authoritarianism and guilt tripping and nothing more. He only used religion to fit his own narratives, and that’s why so many Christians are bigots today. The Bible was simply only written as a form of control. An organized structure and a belief system, and not a personal relationship with god. That can also apply to many other religions as well who promote these types of ‘beliefs’ but the topic at hand here is Christianity, and I won’t be disrespecting religions, but this is only my experience. Bigots aren’t born, they’re indoctrinated.
Not to mention, Christians think queer people are “sexualizing and grooming their kids” when not only is that a general assumption, but learning about love and sex as a natural thing (unless you’re teaching it to children under the age of 9 years old, which is GENUINELY WEIRD.) and you also encourage your kids to date someone of their opposite sex and get married and have them have shirts like “party animal” and “heart breaker”, but if that all happened with a child of the same sex, it’d be the end of the world, apparently.
Also, before you Christians come to assumptions, the LGBTQ is NOT a trend, NOR is it something new, except if you use TikTok.
Homosexuality and Transgenderism has existed for such a long time now, and only recently it has gained traction and LGBTQ people are gaining more rights.
And for the Christian’s who want to be bigots, a 16 your boy once committed suicide for being harassed and bullied after coming out. Yet republicans normalize harassment, hate, and bullying simply for people who love the same gender, or are even a different skin tone other than white, or have different beliefs, then implement and suggest laws that prevent these people from having any rights. This should not, in any form, be normalized, even if it goes against their ‘beliefs’. People who defend the lgbtq and basic rights are regarded as “woke”. It is not woke to call someone by their preferred name or pronouns, it’s common sense. And gender is a social concept and is different from sex itself, that’s why it’s called “sex assigned at birth”, because sex is what you biologically are, and some transgender people acknowledge that. Also, things such as puberty blockers, gene therapy, changing your name, top and bottom surgery, testosterone and estrogen, binders, and many other things exist to medically transition.
And there is also a verse that says “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither Slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”
There’s also something to mention, that people do not know what they’re hating anyways, because hate born from prejudice originates from a lack of understanding because it is not rooted in any sort or way of logic, or just a large, egoistical superiority complex. And you should tell anyone how to live their lives, regardless.
Also, nobody should claim what god thinks, wants, or anything else about him, but that’s exactly what people of the Bible did. They hardly wrote any of “his word”, and only constructed the most random narratives to brainwash people into thinking this is the correct way of the world, and a lot of Christians will go out of their way to force everyone to agree with them.
“Modernity as lost the concept of sin” even though we all have rejected the biblical idea of sinning.
And you also need to consider, that “The sin messed everything up” is not correct. If all these “rules and expectations” and nasty were true about god (even though it seems so unlikely) and that god was an asshole, there was literally a verse that states that god PUNISHED the earth with a curse, so it was similar to that of an abusive parent type of situation (also pretty unironic that plenty of Christian parents are abusers)
The entire original idea of Christianity is that everyone needs to be saved and you shouldn’t judge people unless you’re perfect. It is worth mentioning that it is illogical to say that everyone needs to be saved, because we don’t know what we’re being saved from, but there’s also the fact that a lot of Christians judge someone for being “different”. And the saying “god works in mysterious ways” is thought to be covering up the mistakes of an imperfect god, but it’s really just trying to cover up the imperfect views of their own understanding of their god.
Also, whenever Christians say to “Protect their children”, especially in schools:
Do they focus on good behavior and stay away from things such as violence and terrorism? No.
Do they want their children to eat good and healthy meals and have a safe and fun environment to learn and have recess/break in? No.
Do they want their children to have good safety drills, make sure their kids have good mental healthy and have someone to reach out to and make sure they aren’t getting bullied? No.
Do they want to prevent their children from expressing themself, loving who they want to and allowing themself to be the gender they desire, and take away their rights if they do anything of such? Ding ding ding, you’re correct.
Also, everything that’s not considered Christian is a Sin. And the standard punishment for sin is death. That is completely wrong in so many ways. For example, a child may tell a lie. But instead of a Christian asking why or what the child lied (maybe they could be uncomfortable), the Christian instead resorts to “don’t lie again or you’ll go to hell”.
And Christians always think they’re above everyone else, above the law, and above answering specific questions. And one time, “Christians” massacred a village of Muslims simply for not having the same beliefs. And then there’s “Nobody is safe from god unless you repent” which basically means the person will get mad if you aren’t Christian, which seems stupid.
Oh, and of course: “You can’t judge god” when you say he’s good, even though Christians wrote him as a slavery and genocide loving guy.
And my grandma would always get mad at things like Harry Potter and other stupid shit for having “demons, witches, magic,” and other types of things because it goes against her beliefs, when the rest of the family obviously wants to watch it instead of her. Having certain beliefs shouldnt prevent you from liking something like a book or TV show. Not to mention, just because you watch something, DOESNT MEAN IT WILL AUTOMATICALLY INFLUENCE YOU.
And of course, the infamous thing that every ex-Christian and person on the exchristian subreddit complains about.. “you’re going to hell”. Is that supposed to fucking help? What makes you think I’d want to believe in your religion if that’s how you’re going to introduce it to me? Not to mention, it could just happen to almost anyone walking on the street.
Also, how do we know that Jesus was a prophet? Because he wasn’t actually a prophet, or a real man at all, we was simply just a representation for the truth. Again, I perceive him more as a moral compass and a friend.
What I also find funny is that people who support Palestine mostly consist of people who identify as queer or as a democrat even though Palestine doesn’t support LGBTQ and possibly democracy, but the supporters of Israel are mostly homophobic Christians even though Israel mostly consists of Jewish people or queer people. And why do rich people need to give up everything they have to be saved, yet Christian believe wealth is a natural blessing of faith?
Also, a good note from a post titled “North Korea is proof biblical god doesn’t exist”: “Christians talk so much about salvation to be saved but what about countries that shun religion like North Korea? Why doesn't the biblical god send prophets so they can gain salvation? In the Bible, god sent people like moses to free slaves but today god can't even send people to countries that shun religions especially Christianity like the North Korea”
And of course, “When the Bible talks of ‘freedom’, it doesn’t mean do ‘what you want’, it means free from your passions and desires, and to be a slave of god”. So we should do what you think? No. We aren’t going to be slaves, just because you said so, and we aren’t going to be slaves to religion, or a biblical god. Also, pursuing your passions and desires can be considered freedom, especially from the world, and an achievement, and they’re healthy and normal.
And going back to the topic of being a slave of god/christ, can we talk about how Christians believe that slavery is freedom, war is peace, ignorance is strength, and a lot of slave owners who used verses to justify slavery (as said by Iruka_Naminori) and the fact that the Bible also had verses about racism and slavery which were fucking a load of shit? And racist?
Also, why do we suffer for gods plan, or why are we suffering for god? Makes no sense.
And finally, the moment you’ve all been waiting for… Jesus is never coming to earth. Ever. I quote u/proudex-mormon, who says “It should be obvious from these passages that Jesus was quoted multiple times saying his glorious second coming in the clouds would occur within the lifetimes of some then living in the first century AD. Since these prophecies failed to come to pass, and since nearly 2000 years have passed since, the only reasonable conclusion is that Jesus was a false prophet…” The passages in question are multiple verses and rewrites of Jesus saying that his disciples/john would live to see him come back.
TL;DR: there is no TDLR, the people who made the Bible are either assholes or deranged.

Copied from Facebook
So, about this morning.
I got to the clinic in KCK by 8:00 a.m. and Kevan the Wife Beating Womb Sniffing Hillbilly Street Preacher was already there, but he and three other people were the only ones who showed up. I think most of the womb sniffers were over on the Missouri side trying to fix themselves up with drag queens at Pride. 🤣
My brother and then Moe showed up not too much later. We were there until about 11:00, I think. One of the escorts' husbands came and sat with us on the sidewalk for the last hour or so while his wife escorted patients. Most of the appointments at that clinic today were going to be done virtually anyway, so there wasn't a whole lot of traffic, but I believe that the staff at that clinic has been more proactive in warning patients not to engage with people on the sidewalk, because none of the patients even looked the way of any of the protesters. We kept reminding Kevan of that, but he was too annoyed with me for calling him a wife beater every chance I got to think much about that.
He claims I'm lying about him being a wife beater and that God counts all the lies coming out of my mouth and will one day take it out of my sinning hide, a prospect I'm sure that he masturbates to with disgusting regularity. 🤪 I told him that since he insists on lying to patients about abortion being murder, then he deserves to be lied about, and if he doesn't like it, he should shut his big fucking yap and go the fuck home.
My brother had sat out in the heat for just about long enough, and I didn't blame him for deciding to call it a day at that point. Moe and I decided to go down to the Overland Park clinic, since there were a large number of Catholics there and only four or five defenders. The fake clinic vest people were also there, which is unusual for a Saturday.
The fake clinic vest people have become more bold over the last few weeks, attempting to speak to patients and being much more belligerent than they had been. I already knew this as I was driving from KCK to Overland Park and the farther I drove the more pissed I got thinking about it. They, with their orange vests and their fake traffic cones and their thinking that the FACE Act doesn't apply to them, really had me pissed off. So I called a friend who works for the Department of Transportation, to ask if she knew anything about the laws concerning traffic cones. I know she's not a lawyer, and I was taking a chance on using her as a source, but she told me that it was her understanding that unless a property owner or lessee puts traffic cones down or authorizes them to be put down, no one else has a right to.
So I got out of my car across the street from the Overland Park clinic, and in much the same fashion as I had done when I got out of my car across the street from the KCK clinic and the first action I took was to dash iced tea all over Kevan's precious sidewalk chalk renderings, I walked across the street and knocked over each of the traffic cones, one by one. Both of the fake clinic vest people started telling me that I couldn't touch their property, and I told them that since they weren't the property owners, they had no right to put down traffic cones. They immediately called the police.
While they were waiting for the police, the same whiny little bitch that I caught on video on Thursday called her supervisor, which resulted in several more orange vest clowns showing up to try and intimidate us about their "rights" on the sidewalk and to private property, which was highly amusing to me, Magic Mike, Moe, Brian, Steve and the rest of the crew, because here they are attempting to intimidate patients into stopping for them, but when it gets turned around and they are being intimidated, all of a sudden they're whining about how we're being intrusive.
The police came and stayed across the street, but the fake clinic vest people went whining over to them. I stayed put on the sidewalk, figuring that if they wanted to talk to me they could come talk to me. They never did. The police were told that I was being vulgar and profane toward them on the sidewalk (who, me? 🤪). The police told them that I could say anything I wanted to as long as I wasn't threatening them physically because of my first amendment rights. The police were told that people were pushing into them. The police told them the same thing that I had told the little bitch the other day, to wit, that her feet aren't nailed to the ground, so if someone is getting too close to her she needs to back away. They complained about Brian filming them. The police explained that there's no right or expectation to privacy when you're standing on a public sidewalk.
So to recap, when they want to stand on a sidewalk and attempt to stop people who are entering the driveway, that's okay. But when other people show up and keep them from doing this, suddenly their rights are being infringed.
The police never even came across the street, although I was quite prepared to tell them all about what these people do in the name of their religion, and how they might not like my nasty vulgar mouth, but my nasty vulgar mouth keeps them from bothering patients as much as they would if I were not there to stop them. I have fucking had it with these people. And if the Overland Park Police are not going to enforce the federal Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances Act of 1994, then I and the group of defenders will do it.
When the orange vests came back across the street, looking sulky, they packed everything up and left.
I know there are people on my friends list who don't agree with me about abortion. I know there are people on my friends list who don't agree with my tactics on the sidewalk. I know that there are people who think that having defenders at a clinic just adds to the confusion for patients. But I'm not sure that's true. A woman came from the parking lot to speak to us while the whiners were across the street with the police. She wanted us to know that she had brought a patient from (an east coast state) for an abortion. They had to fly here. That is on top of paying about $800 for the abortion itself, the cost of losing work days, the cost of hotels and food, and all the practical obstacles that happen when you have to travel several states away for a medical procedure that you should be able to get in your own town. This person approached us because she wanted to thank us for what we were doing. I have never seen anyone walk up to the protesters and thank them. In fact, I've seen a lot of cars drive by flipping them the bird or yelling out the window. Maybe some of them yell at me too, as I know not everyone agrees about the legality of abortion. But making abortion illegal doesn't mean it doesn't happen. It means that it's no longer safe to obtain for a lot of women, because when something is illegal, the price can be driven up, and the methods can become dangerous and or ineffective.
Magic Mike, one of the defenders who is gifted with the ability to speak to these people with a lot more calmness than I can, tried this morning to tell them that all they were getting was a taste of their own medicine. That as long as they continue to harass patients, they were going to get pushback from people who didn't think that they should be harassing patients. I don't care how long it's going to take to get that through their heads. Moe and I were like the Katzenjammer Kids walking around knocking cones down after they started putting them back up. The cones eventually stayed down after they finally figured out we weren't going to stop knocking them down. The cops saw us doing it a number of times, but they never came over and asked us not to, because what we were doing was not illegal.
My late brother used to say that if you want to run with the big dogs, you'd better be able to piss in the high grass. And he was right. Score for the defenders today.

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Hello all, thanks for taking the time to read this. For reference, we are currently Southern California residents who decided to complete our retrievals across the border in Tijuana, Mexico due the absorbent amount of cost here in the U.S.
We are signed up for four retrievals and just completed our first cycle. I was on growth hormones (seizan) approximately 7 days before my cycle started and continued for the next 12 additional days with other stims. We triggered on Thursday night and woke up early this morning to drive to the surgery center in TJ.
Everything was normal and timely as expected. Our fertility provider was friendly, kind, and went through the same protocol as I experienced here in the U.S.
I am 42 (43 in 5 weeks) and knew from our previous ultrasounds my follicle count was low. They retrieved 5 follicles which was exactly what we were expecting but now comes the difficult part…
My husband could not contribute his specimen, no matter how hard he tried. It was nearly two hours and absolutely nothing. He hit a mental block, despite my support to help him. The clinic warned us that we only had 90 mins left to deposit his fluids and he made it very clear that was not going to be possible.
The only solution left was to freeze the 5 eggs and attempt to fertilize them at my next retrieval in July.
I am so incredibly sad. 21 days of injections, weight gain, bloating, blood work, etc only to feel like it was for nothing. There’s no promise he is not going to deal with the same problem next month and from all of the research I have conducted, the attrition rate for defrosting eggs and fertilization to full blasts is not high. For me, every single egg counts, especially at my age.
I am gutted, heartbroken, and incredibly depressed after this experience. And the worst part is that my husband actually said, he is not sure if our relationship/marriage is going to make it, without kids.
In need of (virtual) hugs, supportive stories, but please no “you have to stay positive”. I think I will scream if I hear that one more time.
Thanks all.

So in August I (bigender amab) seemingly struck gold by meeting someone on a dating app. I had only been on the app for a few days, but here I was matched with who I quickly regarded as the LOML (agender afab). (Only "issue" was long-distance and virtual but that was never actually a problem.) But to make sure this was real, and because I needed time to heal from a very toxic and narcissistic relationship from a few months before, it took nearly two months for me to ask them out. Of course, they said yes because we'd both made it clear that we wanted to move forward as soon as I was ready.
There was certainly some stress near the end because of exams and their general anxiety and frequent hospital visits for seizures, but overall it was great 8 months, and we were sure we would spend the rest of our lives together. We were very similar in personality and great at mature communication, even if we were sensitive at times due to past traumas. But everything always worked out
Until it didn't. For the past couple of days, theyve been admitted to a hospital stay full of therapy sessions to help with their anxiety and stress, and yesterday, we had a brief call in the morning. Everything seemed fine. They introduced me to a new friend, and we made plans for later. They had to go to therapy, so we said bye, and I took a nap.
When I woke up, though, I was blindsided with a text saying that therapy had opened their eyes, and they realized our realationship was unhealthy and full of red flags. They were sorry but they couldn't take it anymore. I quickly realized I was blocked on most platforms, and the couple that I could still message them on, I was ignored.
Long story short, I was devastated and absolutely bewildered as to what had happened. They've still not responded to me, but a mutual friend was able to get them to admit that for a while, the relationship had felt like walking on egg shells and that they were scared to talk to me about things in fear of upsetting me and/or even causing me to harm myself. The thing is, I know I can be sensitive about certain things, but I always assured them that I recognized this as an issue, and we agreed we would grow together and overcome issues from our individual pasts. But I'm particularly shaken that this was so bad that they were scared to talk to me about things, because I thought our communication was great, and I always did anything to help them feel comfy in opening up at their own pace while insisting how important honesty and open communication are. As for the self-harm, I had done it in the past before we met, but to my memory I have never implied that I had any thoughts of going back to it with them.
I know this is a long post, but I'm just so lost, and I don't know what to do now. On one hand, I'm hating myself that they felt these things and were scared to tell me because of my sensitivity. But I'm also a little upset with them that they would always assure me everything was fine even when my instincts told me something was wrong and I did my best to help them share their thoughts if they were comfortable. I just keep wondering what I could've done better to help them tell me about the problems so that I could work on it. And the fact that they chose to break it off by sending a single text and apparently never wanting to speak to me again or communicate even in hindsight what happened makes me feel very betrayed.
I feel very betrayed, but also guilty, but I also don't know what I could've done better without knowing there were any issues. Any advice or general comments? How should I feel about this?
TLDR: Seemingly happy long term relationship ends in ghosting out of nowhere. Mutual friend tells me my ex felt very stressed and anxious about hurting my feelings even though I always thought our communication was open and we agreed to share our feelings even if painful. I never knew about these issues, but I still feel guilty. I also feel very betrayed. What to do?

Hi everyone,
I'm going through a really tough time with some relationship and friendship conflicts and could really use some advice from this community. I've always found the perspectives and support here to be invaluable, so I'm hoping you all can help me navigate this situation.
Background:
There’s a group of four people: A, L, H, and S. A, L, and S are girls, and H is a guy. I was close to their group but not exactly a part of it. Everything started when I asked out one of my close friends, S, and she rejected me, saying she had personal issues and wasn't looking for a relationship at the moment. She also mentioned she doesn’t like relationships in general. I accepted her response, but our conversation was interrupted by two of our mutual friends, A and L. Because of this interruption and my own demotivation, I didn’t get to ask S more about her feelings towards me.
A few days later, a dispute broke out within their group. A seemed the most sensitive and affected, while S was accused of lying and not expressing her feelings to the group as much as others did. S felt left out and unable to be her true self with them. This dispute stemmed from long-term miscommunication, leading to mistrust and disconnection.
I tried my best to mediate, encouraging them to talk things out. While it seemed to work in the short term, S eventually blocked everyone on social media. A and L were angry, feeling ignored and rejected by S. H seemed more neutral, worried about the group breaking up since he had found good friends after a long time.
Current Issues:
During this time, I spent more time with A, H, and L. They seemed to know I liked S and thought I was taking her side in arguments. They started giving me reasons not to trust S, saying she didn’t like me, cared only about looks and muscles in a guy, and had told them she wasn’t interested in me.
Despite this, I tried to talk to S again about our feelings. She provided reasons for not wanting a relationship, mainly family-related, but didn’t say she disliked me. I decided to maintain some distance to respect her feelings but was conflicted about whether to fully distance myself or just set boundaries. After advice from A, I chose to maintain total distance, which S agreed to but later texted saying it wasn’t the right thing to do.
Two days later, S called, wanting to talk one last time. Despite A’s advice not to, I decided to talk to her. S opened up about her past and said she was hurt before, which made her hesitant about relationships. Surprisingly, she agreed to start a relationship with me, asking only to keep it a secret from A, H, and L.
As we talked more, S revealed she wasn’t a virgin, which initially made me feel bad, but I accepted it. I lied about my own virginity due to insecurity, then quickly admitted the truth, which led to a conflict. This, along with my clinginess and anxiety about her interactions with mutual friends, caused our relationship to deteriorate rapidly. She told me she had to rethink her decision and that we might break up. Then I found out from H that she told him it was just a withdrawal and not serious. This left me confused and hurt. I tried to talk to her about it, but she seemed annoyed and unwilling to communicate. Eventually, she ended things for good, saying discussing it wouldn’t change anything. I felt left with many uncertainties and struggled to move on.
I blocked and unblocked her multiple times, asking to be friends. She agreed, but when I brought up my unresolved questions, she asked me to write them down. Her answers revealed she was serious about our relationship, but my behavior had made her feel I only cared about myself.
Additionally, I recently sought advice from A, L, and H about my ongoing confusion. I shared some screenshots of my chats with S, explaining our relationship issues. This backfired badly. H accused me of betraying S’s trust and trying to gossip about her. He stated that even if I clarified the misunderstanding with them, S wouldn't talk to me. A and L sided with H, leaving me feeling even more isolated and misunderstood.
What I've Tried So Far: - Mediated their initial group conflict, encouraging open communication. - Tried to address my insecurities and apologized for my mistakes, hoping to reconcile. - Reached out to A, L, and H for advice, which backfired when H accused me of betraying trust by sharing personal conversations. - Asked S multiple times for clarity and another chance, but she refused.
Questions: 1. How should I start communicating with S again, especially since H accused me of betraying her by sharing personal chats with A? I don’t think she will respond to my texts, or if she does, it might be negative. 2. How can I address and resolve conflicts with my friends A, L, and H effectively, especially when they seem to have sided against me? 3. Are there any common pitfalls or mistakes I should avoid in these situations to prevent further damage? 4. What self-care strategies can I use to maintain my mental health during this stressful time, especially when dealing with rejection and strained friendships?
Additional Information: I still care about S and my friends, but I’m unsure how to proceed. Some friends have suggested slowly pulling away from the situation since I’ve tried everything I could. I’m conflicted about whether to keep trying to fix things or to move on for my own well-being. I am 20 years old male, as i haven't mentioned it in the front.
Sorry for posting about relationships on non friday, but this issue was causing major distress in my current life.
Thank you in advance for your advice and support. I really appreciate it.

Lately almost every time I post on marketplace, minutes after my post goes live I get a message saying “hey I’m at work text my husband at ___” or “hey I can pick up today text me at __”, etc. and when I click on their profiles it will say that they updated their profile pictures like 15-20 minutes before they messaged me. They always have just the one photo, a brand new account, and no friends. I know this is definitely a scam, but how do I get it to stop? I’ve read up on the google voice scam and I’m sure it’s probably something similar to that they’re trying to do. Thankfully I know not to give my number to people on the internet, but omg? Is there a way to stop these messages! They’re so annoying! If I block all of the accounts will they eventually stop trying to scam me?? I’m contemplating just creating a new Facebook account just for marketplace deals because these messages are driving me crazy lmao. If anyone has any help I’d appreciate it! Thanks!

Hello!! I will try to make this quick in asking for help. I try not talking about my sexuality or gender with people much, but I really do need help. I will try to explain how I feel and give a list on flags I think describe me and how I think. (Somewhat simplified version will be at the bottom!)
The List in Question [Gender]: Genderfaunet¹, Genderapathetic², Genderfluid³, Non-binary⁴, Agender⁵(?), Maverique⁶(?), Questioning⁷(?)
The List in Question [Sexuality]: Androsexual/romantic⁸ (aka Almondsexual/romantic⁹), Graysexual/romantic¹⁰, Demisexual/romantic¹¹, Omnisexual/romantic¹², Spectrasexual/romantic¹³, Alosexual/romantic¹⁴, Questioning⁷(?)
[Introduction]: In recent time (days, weeks, months) I have began questioning my gender identity and sexual orientation. I do not usually feel comfortable sharing details of my own life experiences and situations, but I need guidance this time. I am not sure if any of the genders or sexualities mentioned above contradict any other gender or sexuality mentioned as well, which is why I need help. I won't disclose much of my information that I don't deem necessary, but I will say that I am below the age of 18, afab (a female at birth), in middle school, and not quite used to all the new different gender identities and sexual orientations (of course, that doesn't mean I am opposed to them, nor do I not accept them).
[Explanation of my Crisis (Gender)]: I am most confused with my gender, rather than my sexuality. And for that, I split up the categories of the Explanation of my Crisis into two parts, this being part one: Gender. I quite frankly don't care if I am percieved as something other than a female, which is my sex. Ever since around age 11 to 13 (as of what I can recall), I have been called the varying amount of pronouns. Well, not really 'varying' as most people (at my school) only know They/Them, She/Her, and He/Him pronouns, and not much else. I will make one thing clear: I am not afraid of who I am, just confused. Most of my life, I have been surrounded with cisgender, heterosexual, and gender-conforming people (family and school), so I rarely really questioned myself, if at all. But once meeting my current friends, who are a variety of sexualities and genders, I have become more and more confused of myself.
!!Not relevant much to my crisis feel free-- --to skip to the (*)!!
[Explanation of my Crisis (Gender) - Story]: Two of my friends (that I was in contact with at the time) are FtM (transgender - Female transitioning to Male), and I of course loved and supported them because they are my friends. (We will call the first one Z and the second one F). I knew F before I knew Z, and they both knew eachother in a previous school (as far as I know), and had a father-son kind of relationship for whatever reason. F, however, had been dating my friend (C) since the year prior, and so, considering we knew eachother a bit and knew (C), we bonded and became close friends. I would call F by his preferred pronouns, though sometimes got confused as he would respond to feminine and non-masculine pronouns and/or (nick)names. I asked him why he didn't mind considering he was FtM, to which he responded that he doesn't really care. I also would, unfortunately, deadname him (I) instead of the preferred name, F. I would always correct myself, however, and apologize quickly, even if he didn't mind. Anyways, all that is to say that both Z and F got me thinking the most about my gender, seeing as they were both constantly deadnamed, whether on accident or on purpose (they both weren't exactly open with their gender, though), and didn't seem to care, while still only really feeling male.*
[Explanation of my Crisis (Sexuality)]: My sexuality is the one I am more comfortable in talking about. I know I am attracted to men, for sure, and women. Though, I really wouldn't mind being with anyone romantically nor sexually, as long as I loved them. I just have more of a preference for men, masculine women, or masculine-presenting non-binary people (or masculine-presenting other genders/not gendered people). In my eyes and my view, I see myself more attracted to men, whether transgender men or cisgender men, or any other type of men I might not know of. I would not say, however, that I have a preference on how said masc-presenting individual dresses, unless it is tied on what makes them masculine/male-looking. (I am aware there isn't a way to look like a man, and that it is a social construct(?) that should have another word to use instead. It is just hard to find any other way to phrase it). I enjoy all types of men or masculine-presenting individuals, whether wearing traditionally male clothing, traditionally female clothing, or non-gender conforming clothing that is either a mix of both or not at all. All I know is that I am a 'male enjoy-er' (as of now).
[Explanation of my Crisis (Simplified - Gender)]: I don't know my gender as of now, and just need help figuring it out. I don't care for many of the pronouns that are possible and out to be used to refer to me.
[Explanation of my Crisis (Simplified - Sexuality)]: All I know is that I will love my partner no matter gender or identity, and that I lean more towards men and masculine-presenting individuals.
If there are any contradictions in my Gender or Sexuality list, please point them out and explain it to me! I am here for feedback and help, so don't hold back on what you think as long as it is not hurtful to anyone! Thank you!
¹Genderfaunet = " Genderfaunet is an idingender identity in which one is genderfluid but their fluidity never encompasses being entirely a woman. " (Source: https://gender.fandom.com/wiki/Genderfaunet).
²Genderapathetic = " Apagender, or gender apathetic, refers to a person's indifference toward their own gender identity. Those who are apagender do not mind what gender they appear to be to other people. It is not the same as being agender, which means that a person identifies as having no gender. " (Source: https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/apagender).
³Genderfluid = " Gender fluid means a person embraces an adaptable nature to the concept of gender identity and gender expression. They can be one gender, multiple genders, or no gender. " (Source: https://www.webmd.com/sex/what-is-fluid).
⁴Non-binary = " In simple terms, being nonbinary means that you do not identify (solely or at all) with the idea of being a man or a woman. " (Source: https://health.clevelandclinic.org/nonbinary).
⁵Agender = " Agender individuals find that they have no gender identity, although some define it more as having a gender identity that is neutral. " (Source: https://nonbinary.wiki/wiki/Agender).
⁶Maverique = " It is defined as an identity that is not the absence of gender, or an apathy towards gender, but a present feeling of gender. This feeling of gender is completely independent from male, female, neutral, or anything derived from any of them. " (Source: https://nonbinary.wiki/wiki/Maverique#:~:text=Maverique%20is%20a%20gender%20identity,derived%20from%20any%20of%20them.).
⁷Questioning = " The questioning of one's sexual orientation, sexual identity, gender, or all three[1][2] is a process of exploration by people who may be unsure, still exploring, or concerned about applying a social label to themselves for various reasons. " (Source: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Questioning_(sexuality_and_gender)).
⁸Androsexual/romantic = " Androsexuality is the emotional, romantic, or sexual attraction to masculinity. " (Source: https://www.health.com/mind-body/lgbtq-health/androsexual-meaning#:~:text=Androsexual%20is%20an%20identity%20within,of%20their%20gender%20or%20sex.).
⁹Almondsexual/romantic = " Having attraction towards male/masculine people and adrogynous/non-binary people but very rarely having attraction towards feminine/female people. " (Source: https://www.quotev.com/story/15798088/Your-Daily-Dose-of-Unknown-LGBTQ-Flags/4).
¹⁰Graysexual/romantic = " Graysexuals only experience sexual attraction some of the time, and sometimes not at all. " (Source: https://www.webmd.com/sex/what-is-graysexuality).
¹¹Demisexual/romantic = " Demisexuality is a sexual orientation used to describe someone who doesn't feel attraction to someone unless they personally know them and have formed an emotional connection with them. " (Source: https://www.cosmopolitan.com/sexopedia/a44567358/demisexual-meaning/).
¹²Omnisexual/romantic = " People who identify as omnisexual are attracted to those of all gender identities and sexual orientations. " (Source: https://www.webmd.com/sex/what-is-omnisexual).
¹³Spectrasexual/romantic = " Spectrasexuality indicates being attracted (physically and/or romantically) to a range of sexes, genders, and gender identities. " (Source: https://www.cosmopolitan.com/sexopedia/a42925514/spectrasexual/).
¹⁴Alosexual/romantic = " People who are allosexual are those that experience sexual attraction to others. " (Source: https://www.healthline.com/health/allosexual#What-does-allosexual-mean?).
(NOTE: I have no idea if any of this would be against rule 11, as I really do need help with this and would like feedback!)

“Before I met the Savior, I was a worthless piece of garbage, barely a human being,” Lovebug droned at the front of the enormous room. Lovebug was a monster of a man, two-hundred and fifty pounds of hard tattooed muscle. Like myself, he was a high-ranking member of the Church.
His flat gray eyes scanned the room with a fanatical gleam. I sat in the first row, watching and waiting. Followers of the Savior would tell their stories, how the Savior had reached down and lifted them out of sin and filth to bring them up to the divine. The bright fluorescent lights overhead droned on with a low hum. Thousands of men crammed together in seats or stood at the back of the room.
The Savior taught only two commandments: to murder is holy, and to die for the Savior is the highest bliss. An army of warriors followed the Savior, knights on a holy crusade, priests who wouldn’t hesitate to burn the foul bodies of any witches or demons we encountered. I thought of myself as a knight for the holy king, our Savior, the mouthpiece of the eternal.
“Now, it is like the hand of God has reached into my heart and loosened all the knots there, the knots of anxiety and fear and uncertainty.” He raised his black, military-style rifle into the air for emphasis. “I never realized the true nature of reality before- the fact that we are living in a simulation where the final battle of good versus evil is playing out before our very eyes. And I will be on the side of the good, until my dying breath. I will be on the side of the Savior and of God!”
The crowd roared and clapped. Men got to their feet, sweating heavily in the boiling hot conference room. I felt the surge of energy pass through me like a tidal wave, the pure confidence and iron will of truth. Lovebug lumbered down off the stage as the Savior came out from behind the red curtains, walking with the straight spine of a soldier. He wore a silky black robe that fluttered softly around him, the hood pulled back.
The Savior had horrific burns running the length of his body. His arms had melted folds of keloid scars visible all the way to the tips of his fingers. His scalp had also melted, and the Savior had no hair except for his eyelashes and eyebrows. But the fire that had nearly killed him had spared his face, an aristocratic visage with ferocious green eyes like those of a cat. That face seemed like it had been sculpted out of marble by DaVinci himself, the high cheekbones jutting out over a chin so sharp that it looked like it could have hammered nails into boards. He stared out at the crowd for a long moment, his gaze unblinking.
“The final battle has begun,” he said in a low voice, no more than a whisper. Yet, in the deathly silence of the hall, his words rang out loud and clear. “Those in charge of this illusory world know that we see them. We see them very well, how they hide behind the curtain. They control the world economy, the justice system. Every government, whether they call themselves communist, authoritarian or democratic, is no more than a puppet in their dancing fingers.
“When anyone tries to stand up and lead the masses of suffering people towards freedom from slavery, they are vilified by the mainstream media, brought up on false charges or killed, their bodies staged to look like a suicide. Look what they did to Jesus, and for what? For telling people to love God more than their rulers? And those who speak out today are also crucified, murdered in prisons or killed by their governments. Truth is the most precious commodity, after all. It is one that can only be purchased with blood.
“So what can we do? How can we fight against such evil?” There was a quiet muttering among the pale, frozen faces that stared up at the stage with adoration and love.
“We can fight it by using their own weapons against them!” the Savior said, his voice rising in speed and pitch. He raised his fisted hands to his chest, accentuating each syllable with a back and forth stab of his hands. “Fight fire with fire, and pay back blood with blood! The only thing these global terrorists understand is greater levels of force. We must show them death on a scale they have never before imagined.” I felt nervous as the Savior delivered his message. I saw other men shuffle anxiously in the crowded auditorium, most of them having high-caliber rifles slung around their shoulders.
I felt the rising violence and bloodlust in the air like electricity before a lightning storm. At that moment, I knew we would all have to fight before too long.
***
The Savior called me and Lovebug back to his office after the speech had ended, sending his squirrely assistant over to deliver the hand-written note in the Savior’s blocky, copperplate handwriting. For a long moment, I simply watched the crowd filtering out of the doors, heading back towards the complex where all the holy soldiers of the Savior lived. Feeling dissociated and light-headed, I followed behind the massive muscular form of Lovebug, the heavy weight of the M16 bouncing against my chest. We pushed through the blood-red velvet curtains, winding our way past stage equipment and down a hallway of pure marble.
Mystical paintings similar to those of Alex Grey covered both walls, showing the inside workings of the human body through art. It was as if the painter had X-ray vision and could see the heart chakra and the countless thin vessels that spiderwebbed up to the crown. But, unlike Alex Grey’s hopeful depictions of mysticism, these showed men and women being burned alive, crucified, decapitated or strangled. Dark colors composed the paintings: the dark blue of a suffocating face, the clotted red of an infected stab wound, the black of death. They captured the essence of struggle perfectly.
The Savior’s office had a thick mahogany door with silver engravings of leaves and vines running the length of it. At the top stood a single staring eye with twelve wavy tentacles emerging from the perimeter of it- the symbol of God, who the Savior had seen personally. God would sometimes speak through the mouth of the Savior, always during times of great tribulation or suffering. Lovebug knocked at the door. The Savior’s deep voice echoed out faintly.
“Come in.”
We entered slowly, the sprawling desk of the Savior filling half of the room. He sat in a comfortable chair behind it, reclining. On the walls behind him, he had pictures of Jesus, Saint Stephen, Gandhi, Hitler, Jim Jones, Shoko Asahara and others who he taught had fought against the world elites and been killed for it.
The Church of the Final Rapture was not a church in the conventional sense. The main teachings didn’t revolve around the divinity of Christ or the nature of original sin. What the Savior taught was far more profound- an illusory or simulated world where every single person could become their own Christ, could awaken to the truth and perform miracles, but only if they believed fully and followed the Savior.
“Sit down, please,” he said in his gravelly voice. “I have a mission I would like to discuss, and you two are the only ones competent and loyal enough to carry it out.”
***
“There is another anomaly spreading,” the Savior said, staring between me and Lovebug with his fanatical emerald eyes. “It is located in a rural part of the United States, in a town called-” he glanced down at the sheet of paper in front of him- “Frost Hollow. Supposedly, there are black-ops sites located nearby, secret alphabet agencies experimenting with magnetic distortion systems and creating rips in the fabric of spacetime with micro-wormholes.
“I don’t think it is much of a leap to say that the anomaly was likely started, either intentionally or unintentionally, by the government, as part of their research. The Cleaners would like to control that power, after all. They have been sending their men after it for years like sheep to the slaughter, expending billions of dollars researching it. If they and the US government end up being able to control the creation and spread of anomalies, they will use it to enslave the world. There is no question about it in my mind.” He leaned forwards towards us, his eyes growing cold.
“There is only one path forward I can see. We need to spread the anomaly, make it become unstable so the demons of Hell contained within it can spill out onto the real world. Perhaps it will awaken the downtrodden masses enough to begin the final revolution. We must fight terrorism with greater terrorism, and violence with greater levels of violence. For this mission, I am sending the two of you into Frost Hollow.
“Your job will be to find the Titan or Titans and lead them out to the border of the anomaly. These are horrendous beasts- indeed, the Church has seen them before. They are nearly impossible to kill. I want you two to go inside, bait it and have it follow you back to the edge, beyond the veil.”
“What’s a Titan?” Lovebug asked, his eyes flicking left and right nervously. The Savior stared at him stonily for a long moment. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, showing only the whites. All the blood seemed to drain from his face. His teeth chattered, his mouth opened, and through it, God spoke, the words pouring out like crashing stones. The voice did not sound anything like the Savior’s. It sounded much deeper, more mechanical, more alien somehow.
“I see you very well. I saw you when you were no more than a blood clot in your mother’s body. I see you even as corpses, rotted, putrefying, crawling with scavengers and insects. I see everything, every moment of time. But, in the anomaly, there are things I cannot see. For this, my holy ones must go forth.
“In the center of Hell, you will find a rose, a bird and a stone. These will be your salvation, if salvation can be found at all. Go with the blessing of Yaldabaoth.” The voice cut off abruptly, the silence deafening. I could hear my own heart pounding in my ears.
The Savior’s eyes came back down, looking confused and uncertain. His pupils were dilated and he was sweating heavily, even though it was cool and air-conditioned back here in his private office. We stared at each other across the table, a no-man’s land that protected me like a shield. For there seemed to be something dark in the Savior along with the light, and I didn’t know if any man could contain that power.
But there was no question of disobeying. Within the hour, Lovebug and I were on one of the Church’s private jets flying to the town of Frost Hollow.
***
The gently rolling hills of Frost Hollow loomed below us as the plane circled the small dirt airstrip in the middle of some cow farms. I looked up at Lovebug, trying to judge his stony expression. He had done many years in prison before joining the Church and finding salvation, even being the leader of one of the gangs. I knew he wasn’t afraid of violence. He had never told me what he did, what tortured him so much.
The Savior had told us much secret knowledge- how to find a Titan, a massive, bloated abomination that could come into being only within an anomaly, a combination of many rotted body pieces fused together in some sort of hellish black magic. The Savior had spies around Frost Hollow and the surrounding towns who had been monitoring the anomaly, watching the unstable gateways leading in and out and mapping them as best they could. We would be given a fast car, plenty of weapons and some body armor. I had no idea how nightmarish the journey would become, however.
“I’m driving,” Lovebug said as we descended the steps. A man in a black suit with the symbol of the eye and tentacles pinned on his black button-up shirt pulled up with a Mercedes AMG-One. It was a sleek, silver thing of immense luxury and power. The craftsmanship made it look like a work of art. I sighed, keeping my finger nervously on the trigger of my rifle as I glanced around the strange, empty town.
“If this thing won’t outrun a Titan, then nothing will,” I said, trying to break the tension. I looked at the speedometer, seeing it went up to 220 miles an hour.
“Damn fucking right,” Lovebug growled as we slid into the futuristic-looking leather seats. The engine turned on like a softly purring kitten. The GPS automatically turned on as well, the soft robotic voice leading us toward one of the more stable portals to the anomaly.
Lovebug sped down the empty forest roads of Frost Hollow, going twice the legal speed limit the entire way.
“The speed limit is only for the lowest common denominator,” Lovebug said pedantically, waggling a tattooed finger for emphasis. The GPS said we would reach the gateway to the anomaly in five minutes. Based on Lovebug’s speed, I thought it would be more like two. “Someone who actually knows how to drive and isn’t drunk or high can easily do 80 in a 40. Easily.” I glanced nervously at the speedometer, realizing he was going over 100 miles an hour now. The sports car hugged the tight corners of the winding forest roads with absolute precision.
“Turn right onto Snake Island Road Extension in five hundred feet,” the robotic female voice. Lovebug slammed on the brakes a few seconds later, the tires skidding and locking up. We looked around frantically, seeing no streets anywhere except the one we were on.
“What the hell?” Lovebug asked. The night was crawling in by now, the darkness covering the forests like a curtain. I squinted, looking at the thick grove of trees on our right, scanning it back and forth over and over. After a few seconds, I realized there was an overgrown dirt path there with no sign. It was nearly impossible to see at night, however, and calling it a road was somewhat of a joke.
“Oh, damn,” I said. “They should’ve given us an SUV.”
***
According to the GPS, our destination was only a thousand feet down Snake Island Road Extension. The low clearance of the Mercedes was a problem as Lovebug tried to navigate the flooded forest path. Deep tread marks flooded with black, stagnant water marked the entirety of Snake Island Road Extension. But ahead, the headlights illuminated something unusual.
Cutting straight across the trees and brush like a razorblade was a shimmering wall of translucent energy. It reminded me of a mirage, curving upwards in wavy spiral patterns. I could see through it easily, but it gave everything a dark, sinister covering. The forest seemed to be in constant motion as the grayish light distorted it.
“Look how huge it is!” I said in awe, staring up at the starry sky. The flat wall rose up seemingly forever, disappearing in the cold void of infinite space. Lovebug slowly ambled the car towards the anomaly, trying to keep the Mercedes from getting stuck with its low clearance.
“You ready for this, man?” Lovebug asked in a quavering voice as we inched towards the anomaly. It was only seconds away now. He grabbed my shoulder. “This is it. Remember the commandments.” I closed my eyes, concentrating my heart on the Savior’s words. Dying for the good is the highest bliss, he had told us.
“Let’s do this,” I said, my eyes flying open from my silent prayer as the hood passed through the anomaly. It disappeared in front of our eyes. We could see the forest on the other side, but the Mercedes looked like it was going through some sort of teleportation portal, being ripped apart layer by layer and sent somewhere else. Lovebug nervously grabbed my hand.
“For the Savior and for the Good,” he whispered as we passed through.
***
I heard screaming and wailing, full of agony and unimaginable horror, like the screams of those burning in Hell. My vision went white. A carpet of morphing dark colors covered everything as the shrieking intensified, until I thought my eardrums would explode.
“Stop!” I cried, feeling the pressure in my head like a splitting migraine. “Stop screaming!” I started kicking, punching, trying to get away.
“Calm the fuck down!” someone whispered, slapping me hard across the face. Stunned, I looked up, seeing Lovebug holding me down in the seat. He was covered in sweat, his face a blank mask of terror. “Don’t scream. There’s things outside that are looking this way.” I blinked fast, my senses coming back to me. I felt like a man waking up from surgery, confused and disoriented, my memories only returning in small trickles and drops.
We were sitting in the Mercedes on a road that looked like it had been made of human skin. The headlights showed the ragged patches of pale, leathery flesh sewn together with black thread. The road disappeared ahead of us in a straight line. The land here looked as flat as Kansas. Like a mirror world, it had houses and restaurants and churches lining both sides of the road, but they were all wrong.
The stone church looked like it was constructed of some kind of red volcanic rock. Baphomets and upside-down pentagrams covered the outer walls, engraved deeply into the glossy surface. Mutilated bodies covered the front lawn, impaled, crucified, skinned alive or burned at the stake. Hundreds of men, women and children lay dead in front of the Satanic temple.
Overhead, the sky bubbled and frothed with red clouds and constant explosions of blue lightning. Like missile flashes, the lightning illuminated the world around us, shining brightly before going dark. The incessant strobing gave the entire place a kind of circus freakshow vibe.
Many of the homes looked like they had been constructed from bones and covered in human skin, like some sort of hellish teepee. Arm and leg bones wrapped in razor-wire formed the pillars. Grinning skulls lined the top of the flat, rectangular roofs, thousands of bleached human heads staring down.
Staring out of the dark doorways, I saw gleaming, silvery eyes. They loomed eight or nine feet in the air on spidery bodies. Their limbs looked as thin as bones, jet-black and dull. The only color from these still revenants was from their unblinking eyes and grinning mouths, where teeth like those of a dragonfish jutted out. Every pair of eyes on that street was fixed intently on the Mercedes, the sick rictus grins on their alien faces never faltering.
“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling weak. “I thought I was in a nightmare for a minute there.” Lovebug shrugged his massive shoulders.
“Yeah, I felt it too, though I came out of it a lot faster than you did,” he said, glancing over at the Satanic church as we passed. It had protective black spikes rising high into the air all around it. The broken body of a child who had been burnt at the stake stood in front of the gates like a death omen, his small, withered hand holding a black rose. Lovebug choked, retching. He nearly rolled down the window, until his eyes met the silvery ones of a nearby abomination.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking closer at the church. On top of the roof, I saw an enormous statue of a black raven, its wings spread as if it were flying. It had three gleaming, silvery eyes embedded into the dark rock.
“That boy just reminds me of my son,” Lovebug whispered glumly, inching along the streets.
“I didn’t know you had a son,” I said, surprised. Lovebug had never mentioned a family. He shrugged.
“I don’t. Not anymore. I killed him. I got drunk and high one night back when I was selling drugs. Fell asleep in the living room with a lit cigarette and burned down the whole house. I killed my wife and son, burned them. They sent me to prison, but what did that matter? The prison up here is far worse.” He tapped the side of his temple.
I was about to say something, but at that moment, many things happened at once.
***
Lovebug was staring at the corpse of the child when an inhumanly long arm reached up from the side of the car. It had fingers like spikes, as sharp as a knife and twice as long as normal human fingers. I gasped, a warning shout welling up in my throat, but the hand came smashing down into the driver’s side window and grabbed Lovebug’s neck.
The window exploded in a shower of safety glass, shattering like brittle bones. Lovebug’s scream was cut off as he was dragged, kicking and screaming, out of the car. I swung open my door, leaping out and bringing my rifle around.
The Cheshire Cat grin of the abomination never faltered as it held Lovebug in front of its body like a human shield, holding him by the neck above the ground. Lovebug’s legs kicked and squirmed, his face turning blue as he slowly suffocated. His eyes bulged from their sockets, panicked and rolling, uncomprehending in their total animal panic.
I flicked on the laser sight. It danced over the ground, flashing over the body of Lovebug and the abomination. But I couldn’t aim for its torso or face, as I would probably hit Lovebug in the process. It was far too close.
I aimed for the monster’s thin, skeletal feet, the black toes twisting over each other like the roots of a tree. The gunshots rang out as a deafening counterpoint to the thunder blasts.
The monster gave a hissing gurgle as two bullets caught it in the right ankle. The creature seemed bloodless, and only dust and ashes rolled out of the exploded insectile flesh. It tried to skitter away, but its destroyed ankle caused it to fall forward, throwing Lovebug.
His body rolled across the road, the soft leather that looked like it was made from tens of thousands of human skins. Gasping, his lips still showing a faint blue cast, he struggled to crawl away.
I saw furtive movement from all around us. The creatures in the houses and doorways were moving forwards, drawn by the bloodshed or noise. Hundreds of glowing, silvery eyes surrounded us. I sprinted forward, dragging Lovebug to his feet.
“The church,” I hissed. “It’s the only place.” Still pulling the weak, confused Lovebug behind me, we staggered towards the black gates. They opened with a shriek of rusted metal.
***
The creatures stopped at the gates to the blood-red church, simply staring at us like statues. They didn’t even seem to breathe, their lidless eyes never blinking, the silvery glow never fading.
“I think this is the place we’re meant to go,” I whispered as we made our way towards the massive pointed doors. “When God spoke to us, he said something about a stone, a bird and a rose, that we would find the Titan through that.” I pointed back at the burnt body of the boy. “He’s holding a rose. On top of the building, there’s a bird. And the church is all stone. Maybe this is the place where God wanted us to go all along.”
“Maybe,” Lovebug muttered through heaving gasps, still grabbing at his bruised neck. “God, this hurts. It feels like I got hanged.” Side by side, we pushed open the doors to the Satanic church and walked inside.
***
Row after row of pews stretched out in front of us. Thousands of black candles were set up all around the perimeter of the enormous chamber. They sputtered and flickered constantly, throwing dancing shadows in every direction.
A small pair of bright eyes glanced up at us from under one of the nearby pews. I nearly jumped out of my skin, pointing the rifle at them and yelling.
“Show yourself! Come out now, or I shoot!” Lovebug looked at me, confused. He hadn’t seen it. But a few heartbeats later, a little girl crawled out, her eyes big and blue, her body an emaciated wreck. She wore ripped strands of what looked like leathery human skin to cover herself, tied together with black string. In one small, grime-streaked hand, she held a half-eaten raw mouse.
“Please, don’t kill me,” she said in a small voice. “I’m Emma. My mommy and daddy got dragged away and I’m scared.” I felt sick and weak looking at this small victim. I reached down and helped her up.
“I wouldn’t hurt you,” I said, kneeling down to her level. “I thought you were one of the bad guys. This is Lovebug, and I’m Jack.”
“This isn’t part of the mission, man,” Lovebug said nervously. “What are we supposed to do with her?”
“Well, we can’t just fucking leave her here,” I whispered back. “We need…” But I never got to finish that thought. Because, at that moment, the church woke up.
***
A red glow started at the front of the chamber, the altar where the priest would have stood and given speeches or holy communion. Here, they had a podium that looked like it was carved from a single block of obsidian. Reflected in it, I saw the screaming faces of people burning in Hell, grinning demons ripping off strips of human flesh and spiraling waves of flames, all sculpted by an artist who was able to capture the most miniscule details of agony and torture.
I looked around, realizing Emma had gone. I hadn’t seen her scurry away and hide, but her absence gave me a feeling of crushing dread in my chest.
“Lovebug, something’s wrong,” I whispered, still staring up at the altar. I heard a floorboard creak behind me. I glanced back just in time to see a man wearing full SWAT gear. I caught the flash of a pistol coming down, the butt aimed at my forehead. I heard the cracking, felt the immense pressure and pain. For a few moments, I swam in the currents of consciousness, trying to stay awake, but then the blackness crept in and stole me away.
***
I awoke suddenly, my hands tied so tightly behind my back that I couldn’t feel my fingers. I felt sick and wanted to throw up. I quickly choked those feelings back down. I tried to shake my head, to clear it, but that just brought jolts of pain like electricity shooting through my skull. Nearby, I heard a gunshot, then another.
“Bring it, fuckers!” Lovebug screamed in an insane voice. The explosion of a grenade rocked the building, and I smelled choking black smoke. I opened my eyes, seeing three men in SWAT gear laying dead, their bodies scattered haphazardly around the chaotic scene. One wall of the church had blown outwards, the stone still sending out gray wisps of wavy smoke into the air. I looked at my partner, seeing he had a bullet hole in his left arm and another one in his stomach. He was bleeding heavily, but the adrenaline and insanity seemed to keep him afloat- for now, at least.
I saw something walking towards us from the stage. It looked like a small boy, but black shadows spiraled up around his chest and face, translucent and shimmering darkly. He looked about five or six, his skin pale and smooth. As Lovebug’s face grew slack and distant, the boy abruptly erupted into flames.
“Don’t kill me again, Dad,” the small boy whispered in a hoarse voice choked with pain. The flames rose from his head and skin, melting his flesh, blackening it. Drops of boiling fat dribbled off his nose and chin. “Don’t send me to the dark place again, Dad…” He continued creeping closer to Lovebug, moving like a lion stalking an antelope.
“I didn’t know!” Lovebug cried, his face going paler. Tears streamed from his eyes as the rifle trembled wildly in his shaking hands. For a long moment, he looked torn, the finger tightening on the trigger as sobs escaped his chattering lips.
“Kill it, Lovebug!” I screamed. “Don’t let it get to you!” But as he dropped the rifle and knelt before the small boy, I knew it was too late.
The shadows spun faster and faster around the burning, dying body of the boy. He gave a scream of soul-shattering agony, reaching out to a small hand towards Lovebug.
“Help me!” the boy cried. Lovebug hesitated before bringing an arm up to take the boy’s hand.
“I missed you, Robbie,” Lovebug said before his fingers brushed the boys. The boy lunged forward, grabbing Lovebug’s hand with an iron grip. I saw Lovebug’s eyes widen in shock and surprise. A moment later, I heard the bones in his hand grinding together before breaking with a sound like snapping tree branches. The boy’s eyes darkened into jet-black orbs, the melted lips splitting into a sadistic grin.
“I missed you, too,” the thing hissed as its right arm changed, melting and reforming into something black and blade-like. The insectile limb swung forward in a blur, coming straight at Lovebug’s heart. He gave a panicked squeal a moment before it hit, trying to pull away with all of his considerable strength, his face turning chalk-white as the shattered bones in his hands ground together.
I closed my eyes, rolling away, trying to undo the knots that held my hands in place. Lovebug must have been greatly outnumbered. He would never have let that man tie me up. I heard the sounds of tearing meat and crunching bone nearby. Lovebug’s final breaths gurgled through the air, but I still kept my eyes closed, not wanting to look.
I felt a small tickle on my wrists, then heard a little voice next to my ear.
“I’ll get you out of here,” Emma whispered. I waited a few moments, then I heard the ropes snap. I looked back, seeing her holding a piece of sharp, broken glass in one tiny hand. In her other, she had the car keys. I wondered how she had gotten them, the little pickpocket.
“Thank God,” I said, rubbing my wrists. I looked around for my rifle, seeing it was laying next to the body of one of the SWAT guys. I wondered who these men were. I crawled towards it slowly, not wanting to draw attention.
“Don’t move another step,” a voice growled behind me. I glanced back, seeing the small boy, his features morphing into those of a demon. Curving horns spiraled from his temples. His jet-black eyes stared down at me with hatred and coldness. “You’ll follow your friend who killed my servants. His soul will stay alive forever within my body, a sickly thing wrapped up in an eternal shriek.”
“Fuck you,” I cried, lunging for my rifle. Emma disappeared behind a pew, running on all fours without looking back. I spun as I hit the ground, turning the barrel towards the morphing face of the shape-shifter. Its jaw unhinged, a snake-like tongue flicking out as it flew through the air towards me. Hollow fangs dripping clear venom grew from its mouth in a heartbeat, elongating and sharpening before my very eyes.
I fired twice, the bullets entering through its mouth and coming out the back of its head. Its flesh disintegrated in an instant, the body turning into light, gray ashes that disappeared in the breeze. Breathing hard, I waited, wondering if it was all over.
I heard a rumbling far below me, as if an earthquake were starting. A moment later, the church floor exploded upwards, sharp rubble and splintered boards flying in every direction.
***
“It’s coming!” Emma screamed, running over and grabbing my hand. I lay there, shell-shocked and unmoving for a long moment. In hindsight, the girl was a natural born survivor with much sharper reflexes than me. It was likely the only reason she survived as long as she had.
“The Titan,” I whispered grimly, trying to pull myself up to my feet. But it was like trying to walk on a heaving, sinking ship. Parts of the floor collapsed down into a seemingly never-ending abyss beneath us.
Near the stage, I saw hundreds of long, pale arms pulling something bloated and monstrous out of the ground. It was a Titan, and no explanation can ever convey the true horror of that thing.
It looked like countless human corpses had been melted together, fused into a ball with sagging, boneless chests, deformed faces and millions of writhing maggots. It groaned and gurgled with many lungs, exhaling a rotting, sulfurous breeze that made me want to retch. A soft susurration of many pained, muttering voices continuously emanated from the Titan.
“Emma, run!” I screamed, but she was already sprinting back towards the front door of the church. I backpedaled, afraid to look away from the creeping monstrosity, the juggernaut of rotting flesh moving towards us.
I heard the Titan closing the distance as I sprinted through the front door. The abominations with the silver eyes still slunk around the gate, blocking the car. I raised the rifle, firing blindly at the creatures, careful not to hit the little girl.
“Go to the car!” I screamed at Emma, feeling around for the keys. As the abominations saw the Titan, those still alive scattered, moving in a blur back into the shadows and homes of this rotten place.
The Titan broke the front wall of the church, sending splinters of red stone flying in every direction like bullets. It groaned and gurgled faster, its sickly cries more insistent. I ran to the Mercedes, starting it up and pressing the accelerator to the floor. I pulled a U-turn, heading back to the border of the anomaly.
***
The engine roared, the car bucking like a wild stallion as it pressed me and Emma back into our seats. But the creeping Titan continued gaining speed behind us, and for a few seconds, I feared we would be crushed to death under its massive weight.
The anomaly shimmered ahead of us. I crashed through it at two hundred miles an hour, skidding wildly as the Mercedes hit the dirt road. I nearly flew into a tree. I managed to right it at the last second, pulling onto the paved street as the Titan broke through behind us.
It followed us out. It’s in the real world now.

It felt very, very strange being granted such a title. Mona’s dad was a barkeeper, and my parents (gods rest their souls) worked manual labor and as a cleric. Neither of us had any noble blood in us, or had butlers, footmen and maids. It was a pretty big adjustment for us, especially having to call Mona by her full name when we were in polite company. I had always called her Mona or Emerald (Emmy for short), cause she was beautiful like an emerald, and she always called me Cookie because I loved baking for her. So, going from our pet names to “Ah yes, this is my wife, Lady Desdamona Torres of Mardul, and I am Lady Catherine Louise of Mardul” was so weird. 

But, regardless, I began my misguided quest for revenge against people I didn’t like. I started with Torence, and knew I needed to be smart about what I did. He had just harassed my wife, so if anyone was going to point fingers, he would have an easy reason. So, I started very small. I took on a monstrous form, either that of one of the many wyverns I had cut apart and studied, the Hell Cobra, or the Nightmare Corvid. It started simply enough, roaming the forests of their estate at night, causing people and animals to panic as I let out nightmarish noises to keep them up. Once they were sufficiently worked up, phase two of the plan took effect. I would watch them from their yard, and just stare. Nothing is more terrifying than seeing a 30 foot tall bird just staring at you from the front of your grounds, and then when you call someone to help it’s just gone. Finally, I’d start harassing them. I would swoop down at them or chase them when they were outside, I would damage their windows with rocks or branches, or destroy some of their outside possessions like carriages and gardens. Once I felt they were sufficiently harassed, or had spent a ton of money trying to get rid of me, I’d leave and move on to the next one. Again, THIS IS NOT HOW THINGS SHOULD BE DONE! Please, for the love of the gods, understand that! Either way, that was my schedule for each asshole noble that we encountered. I even got a name for myself, I was simply known as “The Beast”, or “The Shifter”. I liked the beast better, personally, because then that gave me the chance to make lewd and unladylike jokes to my wife. (Yes, penis jokes, and they’re still funny). 

We looked at each other, a bit underwhelmed by this display and kind of disappointed overall. But, we had to remind ourselves that these were basically fodder for hell. Imps aren’t hard enemies unless they swarm in numbers, and even then they go down fairly easily. We were a Grandmaster and Archmage, we were incredibly overpowered for the enemies we had just faced. But, it still felt good to know we had done a service to the town! We were now technically certified devil hunters, but neither of us really felt we had deserved it. So, we started doing our research for the next job. We learned more about the hierarchy of hell, who had control over who, how they commanded them, how things moved up in the ranks, all that. We were upset to learn that killing a devil in our world does not actually kill them for good unless you do something special like a soul-trap or soul destruction. Their soul returns to hell, gets recycled through the machine and implanted into a new body of equal strength to the one they had just lost. So, those imps were definitely going to come back for revenge, I guess. Eh, whatever, it takes a long time to move up the ranks and we’d just continue killing them. Maybe some research into stopping that would be a good idea… We started moving our way up the hierarchy ladder slowly, making sure to build up our name as an annoyance of hell as best we could. Our first year was very easy, we spent our time hunting imps, spined devils and chain devils that we were way too outclassed to give a fair shot. I’m not going to say we wiped the floor every time, we did have moments where they were able to get a good hit on us or were able to cause us some damage, but overall it was a very easy fight. One annoyance, though, was their immunity to my flames. I had to rely solely on my shifting magic and protection magic to be able to fight properly due to them being immune to fire. It was annoying, especially since the majority of my offensive spells were fire spells! I started to do some research on the topic, hoping I could find something that could overcome their fiery immunity or even shut it off completely. My search came up dry, however, so it was back to turning into cool beasts I had killed and dissected and using their forms to maim a bunch of terrified devils. I had considered dissecting and studying the make-up of devils, but once I opened up a bone devil I quickly learned that their forms were mostly just houses for their infernal magic. Without the flames of hell burning inside them, these were just weird looking vessels made of flesh, bone and organs. Plus, probably wasn’t a good idea to be running around in a form that most people feared and wanted dead, so that line of thinking and studying was quickly abandoned. Once we had reached what I guess would be considered the level of Sergeant for the legions of hell, we had begun to acquire quite the name for ourselves in hell. We had not taken out incredibly high ranking members of hell, but we had been able to take a lot of them out in such a short time-frame. As powerful as those on top think they are, a large portion of their strength is having disposable fodder to throw at problems and handle most things for them. We were causing that number to decrease, which was causing problems up the ladder. 

We found out after a bone devil appeared in our bedroom one night. He held two wanted posters, one for Shapechanger Catherine Louise and the other for Potion Master Desdemona Torres. We had a price of 250 soul coins on our head together, quite an impressive sum! We were a real annoyance to them, it seems. We couldn’t help but cheer, even hugging the bone devil and thanking him for telling us the news! He was incredibly confused, pushing us off as he attempted to spear through us with his tail. I shifted my teeth into sharp daggers like a wyvern, grabbed his tail in my teeth and bit it clean off. Mona followed with a special explosive concoction she had been refining that seeped into the body of the devil. Even with their fire immunity, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be lit on fire. I threw a spark at his chest, the concoction lighting him on fire and causing the potion to heat up. It seeped into his skin as he screamed out in pain, his body starting to bulge and swell as the concoction did its magic. We didn’t want a mess to clean up, so I cast a spell of force to push him out the window. He shattered through, his body starting to crack and blister with energy as he continued screaming out in pain. In a brilliant flash, his body exploded into a glitter of magic and faded into nothingness. Once his corporeal form was gone, I decided it was time to test out my research. My hands began to glow as I set an area around the area where its soul would be. 

“Before I met the Savior, I was a worthless piece of garbage, barely a human being,” Lovebug droned at the front of the enormous room. Lovebug was a monster of a man, two-hundred and fifty pounds of hard tattooed muscle. Like myself, he was a high-ranking member of the Church.
His flat gray eyes scanned the room with a fanatical gleam. I sat in the first row, watching and waiting. Followers of the Savior would tell their stories, how the Savior had reached down and lifted them out of sin and filth to bring them up to the divine. The bright fluorescent lights overhead droned on with a low hum. Thousands of men crammed together in seats or stood at the back of the room.
The Savior taught only two commandments: to murder is holy, and to die for the Savior is the highest bliss. An army of warriors followed the Savior, knights on a holy crusade, priests who wouldn’t hesitate to burn the foul bodies of any witches or demons we encountered. I thought of myself as a knight for the holy king, our Savior, the mouthpiece of the eternal.
“Now, it is like the hand of God has reached into my heart and loosened all the knots there, the knots of anxiety and fear and uncertainty.” He raised his black, military-style rifle into the air for emphasis. “I never realized the true nature of reality before- the fact that we are living in a simulation where the final battle of good versus evil is playing out before our very eyes. And I will be on the side of the good, until my dying breath. I will be on the side of the Savior and of God!”
The crowd roared and clapped. Men got to their feet, sweating heavily in the boiling hot conference room. I felt the surge of energy pass through me like a tidal wave, the pure confidence and iron will of truth. Lovebug lumbered down off the stage as the Savior came out from behind the red curtains, walking with the straight spine of a soldier. He wore a silky black robe that fluttered softly around him, the hood pulled back.
The Savior had horrific burns running the length of his body. His arms had melted folds of keloid scars visible all the way to the tips of his fingers. His scalp had also melted, and the Savior had no hair except for his eyelashes and eyebrows. But the fire that had nearly killed him had spared his face, an aristocratic visage with ferocious green eyes like those of a cat. That face seemed like it had been sculpted out of marble by DaVinci himself, the high cheekbones jutting out over a chin so sharp that it looked like it could have hammered nails into boards. He stared out at the crowd for a long moment, his gaze unblinking.
“The final battle has begun,” he said in a low voice, no more than a whisper. Yet, in the deathly silence of the hall, his words rang out loud and clear. “Those in charge of this illusory world know that we see them. We see them very well, how they hide behind the curtain. They control the world economy, the justice system. Every government, whether they call themselves communist, authoritarian or democratic, is no more than a puppet in their dancing fingers.
“When anyone tries to stand up and lead the masses of suffering people towards freedom from slavery, they are vilified by the mainstream media, brought up on false charges or killed, their bodies staged to look like a suicide. Look what they did to Jesus, and for what? For telling people to love God more than their rulers? And those who speak out today are also crucified, murdered in prisons or killed by their governments. Truth is the most precious commodity, after all. It is one that can only be purchased with blood.
“So what can we do? How can we fight against such evil?” There was a quiet muttering among the pale, frozen faces that stared up at the stage with adoration and love.
“We can fight it by using their own weapons against them!” the Savior said, his voice rising in speed and pitch. He raised his fisted hands to his chest, accentuating each syllable with a back and forth stab of his hands. “Fight fire with fire, and pay back blood with blood! The only thing these global terrorists understand is greater levels of force. We must show them death on a scale they have never before imagined.” I felt nervous as the Savior delivered his message. I saw other men shuffle anxiously in the crowded auditorium, most of them having high-caliber rifles slung around their shoulders.
I felt the rising violence and bloodlust in the air like electricity before a lightning storm. At that moment, I knew we would all have to fight before too long.
***
The Savior called me and Lovebug back to his office after the speech had ended, sending his squirrely assistant over to deliver the hand-written note in the Savior’s blocky, copperplate handwriting. For a long moment, I simply watched the crowd filtering out of the doors, heading back towards the complex where all the holy soldiers of the Savior lived. Feeling dissociated and light-headed, I followed behind the massive muscular form of Lovebug, the heavy weight of the M16 bouncing against my chest. We pushed through the blood-red velvet curtains, winding our way past stage equipment and down a hallway of pure marble.
Mystical paintings similar to those of Alex Grey covered both walls, showing the inside workings of the human body through art. It was as if the painter had X-ray vision and could see the heart chakra and the countless thin vessels that spiderwebbed up to the crown. But, unlike Alex Grey’s hopeful depictions of mysticism, these showed men and women being burned alive, crucified, decapitated or strangled. Dark colors composed the paintings: the dark blue of a suffocating face, the clotted red of an infected stab wound, the black of death. They captured the essence of struggle perfectly.
The Savior’s office had a thick mahogany door with silver engravings of leaves and vines running the length of it. At the top stood a single staring eye with twelve wavy tentacles emerging from the perimeter of it- the symbol of God, who the Savior had seen personally. God would sometimes speak through the mouth of the Savior, always during times of great tribulation or suffering. Lovebug knocked at the door. The Savior’s deep voice echoed out faintly.
“Come in.”
We entered slowly, the sprawling desk of the Savior filling half of the room. He sat in a comfortable chair behind it, reclining. On the walls behind him, he had pictures of Jesus, Saint Stephen, Gandhi, Hitler, Jim Jones, Shoko Asahara and others who he taught had fought against the world elites and been killed for it.
The Church of the Final Rapture was not a church in the conventional sense. The main teachings didn’t revolve around the divinity of Christ or the nature of original sin. What the Savior taught was far more profound- an illusory or simulated world where every single person could become their own Christ, could awaken to the truth and perform miracles, but only if they believed fully and followed the Savior.
“Sit down, please,” he said in his gravelly voice. “I have a mission I would like to discuss, and you two are the only ones competent and loyal enough to carry it out.”
***
“There is another anomaly spreading,” the Savior said, staring between me and Lovebug with his fanatical emerald eyes. “It is located in a rural part of the United States, in a town called-” he glanced down at the sheet of paper in front of him- “Frost Hollow. Supposedly, there are black-ops sites located nearby, secret alphabet agencies experimenting with magnetic distortion systems and creating rips in the fabric of spacetime with micro-wormholes.
“I don’t think it is much of a leap to say that the anomaly was likely started, either intentionally or unintentionally, by the government, as part of their research. The Cleaners would like to control that power, after all. They have been sending their men after it for years like sheep to the slaughter, expending billions of dollars researching it. If they and the US government end up being able to control the creation and spread of anomalies, they will use it to enslave the world. There is no question about it in my mind.” He leaned forwards towards us, his eyes growing cold.
“There is only one path forward I can see. We need to spread the anomaly, make it become unstable so the demons of Hell contained within it can spill out onto the real world. Perhaps it will awaken the downtrodden masses enough to begin the final revolution. We must fight terrorism with greater terrorism, and violence with greater levels of violence. For this mission, I am sending the two of you into Frost Hollow.
“Your job will be to find the Titan or Titans and lead them out to the border of the anomaly. These are horrendous beasts- indeed, the Church has seen them before. They are nearly impossible to kill. I want you two to go inside, bait it and have it follow you back to the edge, beyond the veil.”
“What’s a Titan?” Lovebug asked, his eyes flicking left and right nervously. The Savior stared at him stonily for a long moment. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, showing only the whites. All the blood seemed to drain from his face. His teeth chattered, his mouth opened, and through it, God spoke, the words pouring out like crashing stones. The voice did not sound anything like the Savior’s. It sounded much deeper, more mechanical, more alien somehow.
“I see you very well. I saw you when you were no more than a blood clot in your mother’s body. I see you even as corpses, rotted, putrefying, crawling with scavengers and insects. I see everything, every moment of time. But, in the anomaly, there are things I cannot see. For this, my holy ones must go forth.
“In the center of Hell, you will find a rose, a bird and a stone. These will be your salvation, if salvation can be found at all. Go with the blessing of Yaldabaoth.” The voice cut off abruptly, the silence deafening. I could hear my own heart pounding in my ears.
The Savior’s eyes came back down, looking confused and uncertain. His pupils were dilated and he was sweating heavily, even though it was cool and air-conditioned back here in his private office. We stared at each other across the table, a no-man’s land that protected me like a shield. For there seemed to be something dark in the Savior along with the light, and I didn’t know if any man could contain that power.
But there was no question of disobeying. Within the hour, Lovebug and I were on one of the Church’s private jets flying to the town of Frost Hollow.
***
The gently rolling hills of Frost Hollow loomed below us as the plane circled the small dirt airstrip in the middle of some cow farms. I looked up at Lovebug, trying to judge his stony expression. He had done many years in prison before joining the Church and finding salvation, even being the leader of one of the gangs. I knew he wasn’t afraid of violence. He had never told me what he did, what tortured him so much.
The Savior had told us much secret knowledge- how to find a Titan, a massive, bloated abomination that could come into being only within an anomaly, a combination of many rotted body pieces fused together in some sort of hellish black magic. The Savior had spies around Frost Hollow and the surrounding towns who had been monitoring the anomaly, watching the unstable gateways leading in and out and mapping them as best they could. We would be given a fast car, plenty of weapons and some body armor. I had no idea how nightmarish the journey would become, however.
“I’m driving,” Lovebug said as we descended the steps. A man in a black suit with the symbol of the eye and tentacles pinned on his black button-up shirt pulled up with a Mercedes AMG-One. It was a sleek, silver thing of immense luxury and power. The craftsmanship made it look like a work of art. I sighed, keeping my finger nervously on the trigger of my rifle as I glanced around the strange, empty town.
“If this thing won’t outrun a Titan, then nothing will,” I said, trying to break the tension. I looked at the speedometer, seeing it went up to 220 miles an hour.
“Damn fucking right,” Lovebug growled as we slid into the futuristic-looking leather seats. The engine turned on like a softly purring kitten. The GPS automatically turned on as well, the soft robotic voice leading us toward one of the more stable portals to the anomaly.
Lovebug sped down the empty forest roads of Frost Hollow, going twice the legal speed limit the entire way.
“The speed limit is only for the lowest common denominator,” Lovebug said pedantically, waggling a tattooed finger for emphasis. The GPS said we would reach the gateway to the anomaly in five minutes. Based on Lovebug’s speed, I thought it would be more like two. “Someone who actually knows how to drive and isn’t drunk or high can easily do 80 in a 40. Easily.” I glanced nervously at the speedometer, realizing he was going over 100 miles an hour now. The sports car hugged the tight corners of the winding forest roads with absolute precision.
“Turn right onto Snake Island Road Extension in five hundred feet,” the robotic female voice. Lovebug slammed on the brakes a few seconds later, the tires skidding and locking up. We looked around frantically, seeing no streets anywhere except the one we were on.
“What the hell?” Lovebug asked. The night was crawling in by now, the darkness covering the forests like a curtain. I squinted, looking at the thick grove of trees on our right, scanning it back and forth over and over. After a few seconds, I realized there was an overgrown dirt path there with no sign. It was nearly impossible to see at night, however, and calling it a road was somewhat of a joke.
“Oh, damn,” I said. “They should’ve given us an SUV.”
***
According to the GPS, our destination was only a thousand feet down Snake Island Road Extension. The low clearance of the Mercedes was a problem as Lovebug tried to navigate the flooded forest path. Deep tread marks flooded with black, stagnant water marked the entirety of Snake Island Road Extension. But ahead, the headlights illuminated something unusual.
Cutting straight across the trees and brush like a razorblade was a shimmering wall of translucent energy. It reminded me of a mirage, curving upwards in wavy spiral patterns. I could see through it easily, but it gave everything a dark, sinister covering. The forest seemed to be in constant motion as the grayish light distorted it.
“Look how huge it is!” I said in awe, staring up at the starry sky. The flat wall rose up seemingly forever, disappearing in the cold void of infinite space. Lovebug slowly ambled the car towards the anomaly, trying to keep the Mercedes from getting stuck with its low clearance.
“You ready for this, man?” Lovebug asked in a quavering voice as we inched towards the anomaly. It was only seconds away now. He grabbed my shoulder. “This is it. Remember the commandments.” I closed my eyes, concentrating my heart on the Savior’s words. Dying for the good is the highest bliss, he had told us.
“Let’s do this,” I said, my eyes flying open from my silent prayer as the hood passed through the anomaly. It disappeared in front of our eyes. We could see the forest on the other side, but the Mercedes looked like it was going through some sort of teleportation portal, being ripped apart layer by layer and sent somewhere else. Lovebug nervously grabbed my hand.
“For the Savior and for the Good,” he whispered as we passed through.
***
I heard screaming and wailing, full of agony and unimaginable horror, like the screams of those burning in Hell. My vision went white. A carpet of morphing dark colors covered everything as the shrieking intensified, until I thought my eardrums would explode.
“Stop!” I cried, feeling the pressure in my head like a splitting migraine. “Stop screaming!” I started kicking, punching, trying to get away.
“Calm the fuck down!” someone whispered, slapping me hard across the face. Stunned, I looked up, seeing Lovebug holding me down in the seat. He was covered in sweat, his face a blank mask of terror. “Don’t scream. There’s things outside that are looking this way.” I blinked fast, my senses coming back to me. I felt like a man waking up from surgery, confused and disoriented, my memories only returning in small trickles and drops.
We were sitting in the Mercedes on a road that looked like it had been made of human skin. The headlights showed the ragged patches of pale, leathery flesh sewn together with black thread. The road disappeared ahead of us in a straight line. The land here looked as flat as Kansas. Like a mirror world, it had houses and restaurants and churches lining both sides of the road, but they were all wrong.
The stone church looked like it was constructed of some kind of red volcanic rock. Baphomets and upside-down pentagrams covered the outer walls, engraved deeply into the glossy surface. Mutilated bodies covered the front lawn, impaled, crucified, skinned alive or burned at the stake. Hundreds of men, women and children lay dead in front of the Satanic temple.
Overhead, the sky bubbled and frothed with red clouds and constant explosions of blue lightning. Like missile flashes, the lightning illuminated the world around us, shining brightly before going dark. The incessant strobing gave the entire place a kind of circus freakshow vibe.
Many of the homes looked like they had been constructed from bones and covered in human skin, like some sort of hellish teepee. Arm and leg bones wrapped in razor-wire formed the pillars. Grinning skulls lined the top of the flat, rectangular roofs, thousands of bleached human heads staring down.
Staring out of the dark doorways, I saw gleaming, silvery eyes. They loomed eight or nine feet in the air on spidery bodies. Their limbs looked as thin as bones, jet-black and dull. The only color from these still revenants was from their unblinking eyes and grinning mouths, where teeth like those of a dragonfish jutted out. Every pair of eyes on that street was fixed intently on the Mercedes, the sick rictus grins on their alien faces never faltering.
“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling weak. “I thought I was in a nightmare for a minute there.” Lovebug shrugged his massive shoulders.
“Yeah, I felt it too, though I came out of it a lot faster than you did,” he said, glancing over at the Satanic church as we passed. It had protective black spikes rising high into the air all around it. The broken body of a child who had been burnt at the stake stood in front of the gates like a death omen, his small, withered hand holding a black rose. Lovebug choked, retching. He nearly rolled down the window, until his eyes met the silvery ones of a nearby abomination.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking closer at the church. On top of the roof, I saw an enormous statue of a black raven, its wings spread as if it were flying. It had three gleaming, silvery eyes embedded into the dark rock.
“That boy just reminds me of my son,” Lovebug whispered glumly, inching along the streets.
“I didn’t know you had a son,” I said, surprised. Lovebug had never mentioned a family. He shrugged.
“I don’t. Not anymore. I killed him. I got drunk and high one night back when I was selling drugs. Fell asleep in the living room with a lit cigarette and burned down the whole house. I killed my wife and son, burned them. They sent me to prison, but what did that matter? The prison up here is far worse.” He tapped the side of his temple.
I was about to say something, but at that moment, many things happened at once.
***
Lovebug was staring at the corpse of the child when an inhumanly long arm reached up from the side of the car. It had fingers like spikes, as sharp as a knife and twice as long as normal human fingers. I gasped, a warning shout welling up in my throat, but the hand came smashing down into the driver’s side window and grabbed Lovebug’s neck.
The window exploded in a shower of safety glass, shattering like brittle bones. Lovebug’s scream was cut off as he was dragged, kicking and screaming, out of the car. I swung open my door, leaping out and bringing my rifle around.
The Cheshire Cat grin of the abomination never faltered as it held Lovebug in front of its body like a human shield, holding him by the neck above the ground. Lovebug’s legs kicked and squirmed, his face turning blue as he slowly suffocated. His eyes bulged from their sockets, panicked and rolling, uncomprehending in their total animal panic.
I flicked on the laser sight. It danced over the ground, flashing over the body of Lovebug and the abomination. But I couldn’t aim for its torso or face, as I would probably hit Lovebug in the process. It was far too close.
I aimed for the monster’s thin, skeletal feet, the black toes twisting over each other like the roots of a tree. The gunshots rang out as a deafening counterpoint to the thunder blasts.
The monster gave a hissing gurgle as two bullets caught it in the right ankle. The creature seemed bloodless, and only dust and ashes rolled out of the exploded insectile flesh. It tried to skitter away, but its destroyed ankle caused it to fall forward, throwing Lovebug.
His body rolled across the road, the soft leather that looked like it was made from tens of thousands of human skins. Gasping, his lips still showing a faint blue cast, he struggled to crawl away.
I saw furtive movement from all around us. The creatures in the houses and doorways were moving forwards, drawn by the bloodshed or noise. Hundreds of glowing, silvery eyes surrounded us. I sprinted forward, dragging Lovebug to his feet.
“The church,” I hissed. “It’s the only place.” Still pulling the weak, confused Lovebug behind me, we staggered towards the black gates. They opened with a shriek of rusted metal.
***
The creatures stopped at the gates to the blood-red church, simply staring at us like statues. They didn’t even seem to breathe, their lidless eyes never blinking, the silvery glow never fading.
“I think this is the place we’re meant to go,” I whispered as we made our way towards the massive pointed doors. “When God spoke to us, he said something about a stone, a bird and a rose, that we would find the Titan through that.” I pointed back at the burnt body of the boy. “He’s holding a rose. On top of the building, there’s a bird. And the church is all stone. Maybe this is the place where God wanted us to go all along.”
“Maybe,” Lovebug muttered through heaving gasps, still grabbing at his bruised neck. “God, this hurts. It feels like I got hanged.” Side by side, we pushed open the doors to the Satanic church and walked inside.
***
Row after row of pews stretched out in front of us. Thousands of black candles were set up all around the perimeter of the enormous chamber. They sputtered and flickered constantly, throwing dancing shadows in every direction.
A small pair of bright eyes glanced up at us from under one of the nearby pews. I nearly jumped out of my skin, pointing the rifle at them and yelling.
“Show yourself! Come out now, or I shoot!” Lovebug looked at me, confused. He hadn’t seen it. But a few heartbeats later, a little girl crawled out, her eyes big and blue, her body an emaciated wreck. She wore ripped strands of what looked like leathery human skin to cover herself, tied together with black string. In one small, grime-streaked hand, she held a half-eaten raw mouse.
“Please, don’t kill me,” she said in a small voice. “I’m Emma. My mommy and daddy got dragged away and I’m scared.” I felt sick and weak looking at this small victim. I reached down and helped her up.
“I wouldn’t hurt you,” I said, kneeling down to her level. “I thought you were one of the bad guys. This is Lovebug, and I’m Jack.”
“This isn’t part of the mission, man,” Lovebug said nervously. “What are we supposed to do with her?”
“Well, we can’t just fucking leave her here,” I whispered back. “We need…” But I never got to finish that thought. Because, at that moment, the church woke up.
***
A red glow started at the front of the chamber, the altar where the priest would have stood and given speeches or holy communion. Here, they had a podium that looked like it was carved from a single block of obsidian. Reflected in it, I saw the screaming faces of people burning in Hell, grinning demons ripping off strips of human flesh and spiraling waves of flames, all sculpted by an artist who was able to capture the most miniscule details of agony and torture.
I looked around, realizing Emma had gone. I hadn’t seen her scurry away and hide, but her absence gave me a feeling of crushing dread in my chest.
“Lovebug, something’s wrong,” I whispered, still staring up at the altar. I heard a floorboard creak behind me. I glanced back just in time to see a man wearing full SWAT gear. I caught the flash of a pistol coming down, the butt aimed at my forehead. I heard the cracking, felt the immense pressure and pain. For a few moments, I swam in the currents of consciousness, trying to stay awake, but then the blackness crept in and stole me away.
***
I awoke suddenly, my hands tied so tightly behind my back that I couldn’t feel my fingers. I felt sick and wanted to throw up. I quickly choked those feelings back down. I tried to shake my head, to clear it, but that just brought jolts of pain like electricity shooting through my skull. Nearby, I heard a gunshot, then another.
“Bring it, fuckers!” Lovebug screamed in an insane voice. The explosion of a grenade rocked the building, and I smelled choking black smoke. I opened my eyes, seeing three men in SWAT gear laying dead, their bodies scattered haphazardly around the chaotic scene. One wall of the church had blown outwards, the stone still sending out gray wisps of wavy smoke into the air. I looked at my partner, seeing he had a bullet hole in his left arm and another one in his stomach. He was bleeding heavily, but the adrenaline and insanity seemed to keep him afloat- for now, at least.
I saw something walking towards us from the stage. It looked like a small boy, but black shadows spiraled up around his chest and face, translucent and shimmering darkly. He looked about five or six, his skin pale and smooth. As Lovebug’s face grew slack and distant, the boy abruptly erupted into flames.
“Don’t kill me again, Dad,” the small boy whispered in a hoarse voice choked with pain. The flames rose from his head and skin, melting his flesh, blackening it. Drops of boiling fat dribbled off his nose and chin. “Don’t send me to the dark place again, Dad…” He continued creeping closer to Lovebug, moving like a lion stalking an antelope.
“I didn’t know!” Lovebug cried, his face going paler. Tears streamed from his eyes as the rifle trembled wildly in his shaking hands. For a long moment, he looked torn, the finger tightening on the trigger as sobs escaped his chattering lips.
“Kill it, Lovebug!” I screamed. “Don’t let it get to you!” But as he dropped the rifle and knelt before the small boy, I knew it was too late.
The shadows spun faster and faster around the burning, dying body of the boy. He gave a scream of soul-shattering agony, reaching out to a small hand towards Lovebug.
“Help me!” the boy cried. Lovebug hesitated before bringing an arm up to take the boy’s hand.
“I missed you, Robbie,” Lovebug said before his fingers brushed the boys. The boy lunged forward, grabbing Lovebug’s hand with an iron grip. I saw Lovebug’s eyes widen in shock and surprise. A moment later, I heard the bones in his hand grinding together before breaking with a sound like snapping tree branches. The boy’s eyes darkened into jet-black orbs, the melted lips splitting into a sadistic grin.
“I missed you, too,” the thing hissed as its right arm changed, melting and reforming into something black and blade-like. The insectile limb swung forward in a blur, coming straight at Lovebug’s heart. He gave a panicked squeal a moment before it hit, trying to pull away with all of his considerable strength, his face turning chalk-white as the shattered bones in his hands ground together.
I closed my eyes, rolling away, trying to undo the knots that held my hands in place. Lovebug must have been greatly outnumbered. He would never have let that man tie me up. I heard the sounds of tearing meat and crunching bone nearby. Lovebug’s final breaths gurgled through the air, but I still kept my eyes closed, not wanting to look.
I felt a small tickle on my wrists, then heard a little voice next to my ear.
“I’ll get you out of here,” Emma whispered. I waited a few moments, then I heard the ropes snap. I looked back, seeing her holding a piece of sharp, broken glass in one tiny hand. In her other, she had the car keys. I wondered how she had gotten them, the little pickpocket.
“Thank God,” I said, rubbing my wrists. I looked around for my rifle, seeing it was laying next to the body of one of the SWAT guys. I wondered who these men were. I crawled towards it slowly, not wanting to draw attention.
“Don’t move another step,” a voice growled behind me. I glanced back, seeing the small boy, his features morphing into those of a demon. Curving horns spiraled from his temples. His jet-black eyes stared down at me with hatred and coldness. “You’ll follow your friend who killed my servants. His soul will stay alive forever within my body, a sickly thing wrapped up in an eternal shriek.”
“Fuck you,” I cried, lunging for my rifle. Emma disappeared behind a pew, running on all fours without looking back. I spun as I hit the ground, turning the barrel towards the morphing face of the shape-shifter. Its jaw unhinged, a snake-like tongue flicking out as it flew through the air towards me. Hollow fangs dripping clear venom grew from its mouth in a heartbeat, elongating and sharpening before my very eyes.
I fired twice, the bullets entering through its mouth and coming out the back of its head. Its flesh disintegrated in an instant, the body turning into light, gray ashes that disappeared in the breeze. Breathing hard, I waited, wondering if it was all over.
I heard a rumbling far below me, as if an earthquake were starting. A moment later, the church floor exploded upwards, sharp rubble and splintered boards flying in every direction.
***
“It’s coming!” Emma screamed, running over and grabbing my hand. I lay there, shell-shocked and unmoving for a long moment. In hindsight, the girl was a natural born survivor with much sharper reflexes than me. It was likely the only reason she survived as long as she had.
“The Titan,” I whispered grimly, trying to pull myself up to my feet. But it was like trying to walk on a heaving, sinking ship. Parts of the floor collapsed down into a seemingly never-ending abyss beneath us.
Near the stage, I saw hundreds of long, pale arms pulling something bloated and monstrous out of the ground. It was a Titan, and no explanation can ever convey the true horror of that thing.
It looked like countless human corpses had been melted together, fused into a ball with sagging, boneless chests, deformed faces and millions of writhing maggots. It groaned and gurgled with many lungs, exhaling a rotting, sulfurous breeze that made me want to retch. A soft susurration of many pained, muttering voices continuously emanated from the Titan.
“Emma, run!” I screamed, but she was already sprinting back towards the front door of the church. I backpedaled, afraid to look away from the creeping monstrosity, the juggernaut of rotting flesh moving towards us.
I heard the Titan closing the distance as I sprinted through the front door. The abominations with the silver eyes still slunk around the gate, blocking the car. I raised the rifle, firing blindly at the creatures, careful not to hit the little girl.
“Go to the car!” I screamed at Emma, feeling around for the keys. As the abominations saw the Titan, those still alive scattered, moving in a blur back into the shadows and homes of this rotten place.
The Titan broke the front wall of the church, sending splinters of red stone flying in every direction like bullets. It groaned and gurgled faster, its sickly cries more insistent. I ran to the Mercedes, starting it up and pressing the accelerator to the floor. I pulled a U-turn, heading back to the border of the anomaly.
***
The engine roared, the car bucking like a wild stallion as it pressed me and Emma back into our seats. But the creeping Titan continued gaining speed behind us, and for a few seconds, I feared we would be crushed to death under its massive weight.
The anomaly shimmered ahead of us. I crashed through it at two hundred miles an hour, skidding wildly as the Mercedes hit the dirt road. I nearly flew into a tree. I managed to right it at the last second, pulling onto the paved street as the Titan broke through behind us.
It followed us out. It’s in the real world now.

“Before I met the Savior, I was a worthless piece of garbage, barely a human being,” Lovebug droned at the front of the enormous room. Lovebug was a monster of a man, two-hundred and fifty pounds of hard tattooed muscle. Like myself, he was a high-ranking member of the Church.
His flat gray eyes scanned the room with a fanatical gleam. I sat in the first row, watching and waiting. Followers of the Savior would tell their stories, how the Savior had reached down and lifted them out of sin and filth to bring them up to the divine. The bright fluorescent lights overhead droned on with a low hum. Thousands of men crammed together in seats or stood at the back of the room.
The Savior taught only two commandments: to murder is holy, and to die for the Savior is the highest bliss. An army of warriors followed the Savior, knights on a holy crusade, priests who wouldn’t hesitate to burn the foul bodies of any witches or demons we encountered. I thought of myself as a knight for the holy king, our Savior, the mouthpiece of the eternal.
“Now, it is like the hand of God has reached into my heart and loosened all the knots there, the knots of anxiety and fear and uncertainty.” He raised his black, military-style rifle into the air for emphasis. “I never realized the true nature of reality before- the fact that we are living in a simulation where the final battle of good versus evil is playing out before our very eyes. And I will be on the side of the good, until my dying breath. I will be on the side of the Savior and of God!”
The crowd roared and clapped. Men got to their feet, sweating heavily in the boiling hot conference room. I felt the surge of energy pass through me like a tidal wave, the pure confidence and iron will of truth. Lovebug lumbered down off the stage as the Savior came out from behind the red curtains, walking with the straight spine of a soldier. He wore a silky black robe that fluttered softly around him, the hood pulled back.
The Savior had horrific burns running the length of his body. His arms had melted folds of keloid scars visible all the way to the tips of his fingers. His scalp had also melted, and the Savior had no hair except for his eyelashes and eyebrows. But the fire that had nearly killed him had spared his face, an aristocratic visage with ferocious green eyes like those of a cat. That face seemed like it had been sculpted out of marble by DaVinci himself, the high cheekbones jutting out over a chin so sharp that it looked like it could have hammered nails into boards. He stared out at the crowd for a long moment, his gaze unblinking.
“The final battle has begun,” he said in a low voice, no more than a whisper. Yet, in the deathly silence of the hall, his words rang out loud and clear. “Those in charge of this illusory world know that we see them. We see them very well, how they hide behind the curtain. They control the world economy, the justice system. Every government, whether they call themselves communist, authoritarian or democratic, is no more than a puppet in their dancing fingers.
“When anyone tries to stand up and lead the masses of suffering people towards freedom from slavery, they are vilified by the mainstream media, brought up on false charges or killed, their bodies staged to look like a suicide. Look what they did to Jesus, and for what? For telling people to love God more than their rulers? And those who speak out today are also crucified, murdered in prisons or killed by their governments. Truth is the most precious commodity, after all. It is one that can only be purchased with blood.
“So what can we do? How can we fight against such evil?” There was a quiet muttering among the pale, frozen faces that stared up at the stage with adoration and love.
“We can fight it by using their own weapons against them!” the Savior said, his voice rising in speed and pitch. He raised his fisted hands to his chest, accentuating each syllable with a back and forth stab of his hands. “Fight fire with fire, and pay back blood with blood! The only thing these global terrorists understand is greater levels of force. We must show them death on a scale they have never before imagined.” I felt nervous as the Savior delivered his message. I saw other men shuffle anxiously in the crowded auditorium, most of them having high-caliber rifles slung around their shoulders.
I felt the rising violence and bloodlust in the air like electricity before a lightning storm. At that moment, I knew we would all have to fight before too long.
***
The Savior called me and Lovebug back to his office after the speech had ended, sending his squirrely assistant over to deliver the hand-written note in the Savior’s blocky, copperplate handwriting. For a long moment, I simply watched the crowd filtering out of the doors, heading back towards the complex where all the holy soldiers of the Savior lived. Feeling dissociated and light-headed, I followed behind the massive muscular form of Lovebug, the heavy weight of the M16 bouncing against my chest. We pushed through the blood-red velvet curtains, winding our way past stage equipment and down a hallway of pure marble.
Mystical paintings similar to those of Alex Grey covered both walls, showing the inside workings of the human body through art. It was as if the painter had X-ray vision and could see the heart chakra and the countless thin vessels that spiderwebbed up to the crown. But, unlike Alex Grey’s hopeful depictions of mysticism, these showed men and women being burned alive, crucified, decapitated or strangled. Dark colors composed the paintings: the dark blue of a suffocating face, the clotted red of an infected stab wound, the black of death. They captured the essence of struggle perfectly.
The Savior’s office had a thick mahogany door with silver engravings of leaves and vines running the length of it. At the top stood a single staring eye with twelve wavy tentacles emerging from the perimeter of it- the symbol of God, who the Savior had seen personally. God would sometimes speak through the mouth of the Savior, always during times of great tribulation or suffering. Lovebug knocked at the door. The Savior’s deep voice echoed out faintly.
“Come in.”
We entered slowly, the sprawling desk of the Savior filling half of the room. He sat in a comfortable chair behind it, reclining. On the walls behind him, he had pictures of Jesus, Saint Stephen, Gandhi, Hitler, Jim Jones, Shoko Asahara and others who he taught had fought against the world elites and been killed for it.
The Church of the Final Rapture was not a church in the conventional sense. The main teachings didn’t revolve around the divinity of Christ or the nature of original sin. What the Savior taught was far more profound- an illusory or simulated world where every single person could become their own Christ, could awaken to the truth and perform miracles, but only if they believed fully and followed the Savior.
“Sit down, please,” he said in his gravelly voice. “I have a mission I would like to discuss, and you two are the only ones competent and loyal enough to carry it out.”
***
“There is another anomaly spreading,” the Savior said, staring between me and Lovebug with his fanatical emerald eyes. “It is located in a rural part of the United States, in a town called-” he glanced down at the sheet of paper in front of him- “Frost Hollow. Supposedly, there are black-ops sites located nearby, secret alphabet agencies experimenting with magnetic distortion systems and creating rips in the fabric of spacetime with micro-wormholes.
“I don’t think it is much of a leap to say that the anomaly was likely started, either intentionally or unintentionally, by the government, as part of their research. The Cleaners would like to control that power, after all. They have been sending their men after it for years like sheep to the slaughter, expending billions of dollars researching it. If they and the US government end up being able to control the creation and spread of anomalies, they will use it to enslave the world. There is no question about it in my mind.” He leaned forwards towards us, his eyes growing cold.
“There is only one path forward I can see. We need to spread the anomaly, make it become unstable so the demons of Hell contained within it can spill out onto the real world. Perhaps it will awaken the downtrodden masses enough to begin the final revolution. We must fight terrorism with greater terrorism, and violence with greater levels of violence. For this mission, I am sending the two of you into Frost Hollow.
“Your job will be to find the Titan or Titans and lead them out to the border of the anomaly. These are horrendous beasts- indeed, the Church has seen them before. They are nearly impossible to kill. I want you two to go inside, bait it and have it follow you back to the edge, beyond the veil.”
“What’s a Titan?” Lovebug asked, his eyes flicking left and right nervously. The Savior stared at him stonily for a long moment. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, showing only the whites. All the blood seemed to drain from his face. His teeth chattered, his mouth opened, and through it, God spoke, the words pouring out like crashing stones. The voice did not sound anything like the Savior’s. It sounded much deeper, more mechanical, more alien somehow.
“I see you very well. I saw you when you were no more than a blood clot in your mother’s body. I see you even as corpses, rotted, putrefying, crawling with scavengers and insects. I see everything, every moment of time. But, in the anomaly, there are things I cannot see. For this, my holy ones must go forth.
“In the center of Hell, you will find a rose, a bird and a stone. These will be your salvation, if salvation can be found at all. Go with the blessing of Yaldabaoth.” The voice cut off abruptly, the silence deafening. I could hear my own heart pounding in my ears.
The Savior’s eyes came back down, looking confused and uncertain. His pupils were dilated and he was sweating heavily, even though it was cool and air-conditioned back here in his private office. We stared at each other across the table, a no-man’s land that protected me like a shield. For there seemed to be something dark in the Savior along with the light, and I didn’t know if any man could contain that power.
But there was no question of disobeying. Within the hour, Lovebug and I were on one of the Church’s private jets flying to the town of Frost Hollow.
***
The gently rolling hills of Frost Hollow loomed below us as the plane circled the small dirt airstrip in the middle of some cow farms. I looked up at Lovebug, trying to judge his stony expression. He had done many years in prison before joining the Church and finding salvation, even being the leader of one of the gangs. I knew he wasn’t afraid of violence. He had never told me what he did, what tortured him so much.
The Savior had told us much secret knowledge- how to find a Titan, a massive, bloated abomination that could come into being only within an anomaly, a combination of many rotted body pieces fused together in some sort of hellish black magic. The Savior had spies around Frost Hollow and the surrounding towns who had been monitoring the anomaly, watching the unstable gateways leading in and out and mapping them as best they could. We would be given a fast car, plenty of weapons and some body armor. I had no idea how nightmarish the journey would become, however.
“I’m driving,” Lovebug said as we descended the steps. A man in a black suit with the symbol of the eye and tentacles pinned on his black button-up shirt pulled up with a Mercedes AMG-One. It was a sleek, silver thing of immense luxury and power. The craftsmanship made it look like a work of art. I sighed, keeping my finger nervously on the trigger of my rifle as I glanced around the strange, empty town.
“If this thing won’t outrun a Titan, then nothing will,” I said, trying to break the tension. I looked at the speedometer, seeing it went up to 220 miles an hour.
“Damn fucking right,” Lovebug growled as we slid into the futuristic-looking leather seats. The engine turned on like a softly purring kitten. The GPS automatically turned on as well, the soft robotic voice leading us toward one of the more stable portals to the anomaly.
Lovebug sped down the empty forest roads of Frost Hollow, going twice the legal speed limit the entire way.
“The speed limit is only for the lowest common denominator,” Lovebug said pedantically, waggling a tattooed finger for emphasis. The GPS said we would reach the gateway to the anomaly in five minutes. Based on Lovebug’s speed, I thought it would be more like two. “Someone who actually knows how to drive and isn’t drunk or high can easily do 80 in a 40. Easily.” I glanced nervously at the speedometer, realizing he was going over 100 miles an hour now. The sports car hugged the tight corners of the winding forest roads with absolute precision.
“Turn right onto Snake Island Road Extension in five hundred feet,” the robotic female voice. Lovebug slammed on the brakes a few seconds later, the tires skidding and locking up. We looked around frantically, seeing no streets anywhere except the one we were on.
“What the hell?” Lovebug asked. The night was crawling in by now, the darkness covering the forests like a curtain. I squinted, looking at the thick grove of trees on our right, scanning it back and forth over and over. After a few seconds, I realized there was an overgrown dirt path there with no sign. It was nearly impossible to see at night, however, and calling it a road was somewhat of a joke.
“Oh, damn,” I said. “They should’ve given us an SUV.”
***
According to the GPS, our destination was only a thousand feet down Snake Island Road Extension. The low clearance of the Mercedes was a problem as Lovebug tried to navigate the flooded forest path. Deep tread marks flooded with black, stagnant water marked the entirety of Snake Island Road Extension. But ahead, the headlights illuminated something unusual.
Cutting straight across the trees and brush like a razorblade was a shimmering wall of translucent energy. It reminded me of a mirage, curving upwards in wavy spiral patterns. I could see through it easily, but it gave everything a dark, sinister covering. The forest seemed to be in constant motion as the grayish light distorted it.
“Look how huge it is!” I said in awe, staring up at the starry sky. The flat wall rose up seemingly forever, disappearing in the cold void of infinite space. Lovebug slowly ambled the car towards the anomaly, trying to keep the Mercedes from getting stuck with its low clearance.
“You ready for this, man?” Lovebug asked in a quavering voice as we inched towards the anomaly. It was only seconds away now. He grabbed my shoulder. “This is it. Remember the commandments.” I closed my eyes, concentrating my heart on the Savior’s words. Dying for the good is the highest bliss, he had told us.
“Let’s do this,” I said, my eyes flying open from my silent prayer as the hood passed through the anomaly. It disappeared in front of our eyes. We could see the forest on the other side, but the Mercedes looked like it was going through some sort of teleportation portal, being ripped apart layer by layer and sent somewhere else. Lovebug nervously grabbed my hand.
“For the Savior and for the Good,” he whispered as we passed through.
***
I heard screaming and wailing, full of agony and unimaginable horror, like the screams of those burning in Hell. My vision went white. A carpet of morphing dark colors covered everything as the shrieking intensified, until I thought my eardrums would explode.
“Stop!” I cried, feeling the pressure in my head like a splitting migraine. “Stop screaming!” I started kicking, punching, trying to get away.
“Calm the fuck down!” someone whispered, slapping me hard across the face. Stunned, I looked up, seeing Lovebug holding me down in the seat. He was covered in sweat, his face a blank mask of terror. “Don’t scream. There’s things outside that are looking this way.” I blinked fast, my senses coming back to me. I felt like a man waking up from surgery, confused and disoriented, my memories only returning in small trickles and drops.
We were sitting in the Mercedes on a road that looked like it had been made of human skin. The headlights showed the ragged patches of pale, leathery flesh sewn together with black thread. The road disappeared ahead of us in a straight line. The land here looked as flat as Kansas. Like a mirror world, it had houses and restaurants and churches lining both sides of the road, but they were all wrong.
The stone church looked like it was constructed of some kind of red volcanic rock. Baphomets and upside-down pentagrams covered the outer walls, engraved deeply into the glossy surface. Mutilated bodies covered the front lawn, impaled, crucified, skinned alive or burned at the stake. Hundreds of men, women and children lay dead in front of the Satanic temple.
Overhead, the sky bubbled and frothed with red clouds and constant explosions of blue lightning. Like missile flashes, the lightning illuminated the world around us, shining brightly before going dark. The incessant strobing gave the entire place a kind of circus freakshow vibe.
Many of the homes looked like they had been constructed from bones and covered in human skin, like some sort of hellish teepee. Arm and leg bones wrapped in razor-wire formed the pillars. Grinning skulls lined the top of the flat, rectangular roofs, thousands of bleached human heads staring down.
Staring out of the dark doorways, I saw gleaming, silvery eyes. They loomed eight or nine feet in the air on spidery bodies. Their limbs looked as thin as bones, jet-black and dull. The only color from these still revenants was from their unblinking eyes and grinning mouths, where teeth like those of a dragonfish jutted out. Every pair of eyes on that street was fixed intently on the Mercedes, the sick rictus grins on their alien faces never faltering.
“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling weak. “I thought I was in a nightmare for a minute there.” Lovebug shrugged his massive shoulders.
“Yeah, I felt it too, though I came out of it a lot faster than you did,” he said, glancing over at the Satanic church as we passed. It had protective black spikes rising high into the air all around it. The broken body of a child who had been burnt at the stake stood in front of the gates like a death omen, his small, withered hand holding a black rose. Lovebug choked, retching. He nearly rolled down the window, until his eyes met the silvery ones of a nearby abomination.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking closer at the church. On top of the roof, I saw an enormous statue of a black raven, its wings spread as if it were flying. It had three gleaming, silvery eyes embedded into the dark rock.
“That boy just reminds me of my son,” Lovebug whispered glumly, inching along the streets.
“I didn’t know you had a son,” I said, surprised. Lovebug had never mentioned a family. He shrugged.
“I don’t. Not anymore. I killed him. I got drunk and high one night back when I was selling drugs. Fell asleep in the living room with a lit cigarette and burned down the whole house. I killed my wife and son, burned them. They sent me to prison, but what did that matter? The prison up here is far worse.” He tapped the side of his temple.
I was about to say something, but at that moment, many things happened at once.
***
Lovebug was staring at the corpse of the child when an inhumanly long arm reached up from the side of the car. It had fingers like spikes, as sharp as a knife and twice as long as normal human fingers. I gasped, a warning shout welling up in my throat, but the hand came smashing down into the driver’s side window and grabbed Lovebug’s neck.
The window exploded in a shower of safety glass, shattering like brittle bones. Lovebug’s scream was cut off as he was dragged, kicking and screaming, out of the car. I swung open my door, leaping out and bringing my rifle around.
The Cheshire Cat grin of the abomination never faltered as it held Lovebug in front of its body like a human shield, holding him by the neck above the ground. Lovebug’s legs kicked and squirmed, his face turning blue as he slowly suffocated. His eyes bulged from their sockets, panicked and rolling, uncomprehending in their total animal panic.
I flicked on the laser sight. It danced over the ground, flashing over the body of Lovebug and the abomination. But I couldn’t aim for its torso or face, as I would probably hit Lovebug in the process. It was far too close.
I aimed for the monster’s thin, skeletal feet, the black toes twisting over each other like the roots of a tree. The gunshots rang out as a deafening counterpoint to the thunder blasts.
The monster gave a hissing gurgle as two bullets caught it in the right ankle. The creature seemed bloodless, and only dust and ashes rolled out of the exploded insectile flesh. It tried to skitter away, but its destroyed ankle caused it to fall forward, throwing Lovebug.
His body rolled across the road, the soft leather that looked like it was made from tens of thousands of human skins. Gasping, his lips still showing a faint blue cast, he struggled to crawl away.
I saw furtive movement from all around us. The creatures in the houses and doorways were moving forwards, drawn by the bloodshed or noise. Hundreds of glowing, silvery eyes surrounded us. I sprinted forward, dragging Lovebug to his feet.
“The church,” I hissed. “It’s the only place.” Still pulling the weak, confused Lovebug behind me, we staggered towards the black gates. They opened with a shriek of rusted metal.
***
The creatures stopped at the gates to the blood-red church, simply staring at us like statues. They didn’t even seem to breathe, their lidless eyes never blinking, the silvery glow never fading.
“I think this is the place we’re meant to go,” I whispered as we made our way towards the massive pointed doors. “When God spoke to us, he said something about a stone, a bird and a rose, that we would find the Titan through that.” I pointed back at the burnt body of the boy. “He’s holding a rose. On top of the building, there’s a bird. And the church is all stone. Maybe this is the place where God wanted us to go all along.”
“Maybe,” Lovebug muttered through heaving gasps, still grabbing at his bruised neck. “God, this hurts. It feels like I got hanged.” Side by side, we pushed open the doors to the Satanic church and walked inside.
***
Row after row of pews stretched out in front of us. Thousands of black candles were set up all around the perimeter of the enormous chamber. They sputtered and flickered constantly, throwing dancing shadows in every direction.
A small pair of bright eyes glanced up at us from under one of the nearby pews. I nearly jumped out of my skin, pointing the rifle at them and yelling.
“Show yourself! Come out now, or I shoot!” Lovebug looked at me, confused. He hadn’t seen it. But a few heartbeats later, a little girl crawled out, her eyes big and blue, her body an emaciated wreck. She wore ripped strands of what looked like leathery human skin to cover herself, tied together with black string. In one small, grime-streaked hand, she held a half-eaten raw mouse.
“Please, don’t kill me,” she said in a small voice. “I’m Emma. My mommy and daddy got dragged away and I’m scared.” I felt sick and weak looking at this small victim. I reached down and helped her up.
“I wouldn’t hurt you,” I said, kneeling down to her level. “I thought you were one of the bad guys. This is Lovebug, and I’m Jack.”
“This isn’t part of the mission, man,” Lovebug said nervously. “What are we supposed to do with her?”
“Well, we can’t just fucking leave her here,” I whispered back. “We need…” But I never got to finish that thought. Because, at that moment, the church woke up.
***
A red glow started at the front of the chamber, the altar where the priest would have stood and given speeches or holy communion. Here, they had a podium that looked like it was carved from a single block of obsidian. Reflected in it, I saw the screaming faces of people burning in Hell, grinning demons ripping off strips of human flesh and spiraling waves of flames, all sculpted by an artist who was able to capture the most miniscule details of agony and torture.
I looked around, realizing Emma had gone. I hadn’t seen her scurry away and hide, but her absence gave me a feeling of crushing dread in my chest.
“Lovebug, something’s wrong,” I whispered, still staring up at the altar. I heard a floorboard creak behind me. I glanced back just in time to see a man wearing full SWAT gear. I caught the flash of a pistol coming down, the butt aimed at my forehead. I heard the cracking, felt the immense pressure and pain. For a few moments, I swam in the currents of consciousness, trying to stay awake, but then the blackness crept in and stole me away.
***
I awoke suddenly, my hands tied so tightly behind my back that I couldn’t feel my fingers. I felt sick and wanted to throw up. I quickly choked those feelings back down. I tried to shake my head, to clear it, but that just brought jolts of pain like electricity shooting through my skull. Nearby, I heard a gunshot, then another.
“Bring it, fuckers!” Lovebug screamed in an insane voice. The explosion of a grenade rocked the building, and I smelled choking black smoke. I opened my eyes, seeing three men in SWAT gear laying dead, their bodies scattered haphazardly around the chaotic scene. One wall of the church had blown outwards, the stone still sending out gray wisps of wavy smoke into the air. I looked at my partner, seeing he had a bullet hole in his left arm and another one in his stomach. He was bleeding heavily, but the adrenaline and insanity seemed to keep him afloat- for now, at least.
I saw something walking towards us from the stage. It looked like a small boy, but black shadows spiraled up around his chest and face, translucent and shimmering darkly. He looked about five or six, his skin pale and smooth. As Lovebug’s face grew slack and distant, the boy abruptly erupted into flames.
“Don’t kill me again, Dad,” the small boy whispered in a hoarse voice choked with pain. The flames rose from his head and skin, melting his flesh, blackening it. Drops of boiling fat dribbled off his nose and chin. “Don’t send me to the dark place again, Dad…” He continued creeping closer to Lovebug, moving like a lion stalking an antelope.
“I didn’t know!” Lovebug cried, his face going paler. Tears streamed from his eyes as the rifle trembled wildly in his shaking hands. For a long moment, he looked torn, the finger tightening on the trigger as sobs escaped his chattering lips.
“Kill it, Lovebug!” I screamed. “Don’t let it get to you!” But as he dropped the rifle and knelt before the small boy, I knew it was too late.
The shadows spun faster and faster around the burning, dying body of the boy. He gave a scream of soul-shattering agony, reaching out to a small hand towards Lovebug.
“Help me!” the boy cried. Lovebug hesitated before bringing an arm up to take the boy’s hand.
“I missed you, Robbie,” Lovebug said before his fingers brushed the boys. The boy lunged forward, grabbing Lovebug’s hand with an iron grip. I saw Lovebug’s eyes widen in shock and surprise. A moment later, I heard the bones in his hand grinding together before breaking with a sound like snapping tree branches. The boy’s eyes darkened into jet-black orbs, the melted lips splitting into a sadistic grin.
“I missed you, too,” the thing hissed as its right arm changed, melting and reforming into something black and blade-like. The insectile limb swung forward in a blur, coming straight at Lovebug’s heart. He gave a panicked squeal a moment before it hit, trying to pull away with all of his considerable strength, his face turning chalk-white as the shattered bones in his hands ground together.
I closed my eyes, rolling away, trying to undo the knots that held my hands in place. Lovebug must have been greatly outnumbered. He would never have let that man tie me up. I heard the sounds of tearing meat and crunching bone nearby. Lovebug’s final breaths gurgled through the air, but I still kept my eyes closed, not wanting to look.
I felt a small tickle on my wrists, then heard a little voice next to my ear.
“I’ll get you out of here,” Emma whispered. I waited a few moments, then I heard the ropes snap. I looked back, seeing her holding a piece of sharp, broken glass in one tiny hand. In her other, she had the car keys. I wondered how she had gotten them, the little pickpocket.
“Thank God,” I said, rubbing my wrists. I looked around for my rifle, seeing it was laying next to the body of one of the SWAT guys. I wondered who these men were. I crawled towards it slowly, not wanting to draw attention.
“Don’t move another step,” a voice growled behind me. I glanced back, seeing the small boy, his features morphing into those of a demon. Curving horns spiraled from his temples. His jet-black eyes stared down at me with hatred and coldness. “You’ll follow your friend who killed my servants. His soul will stay alive forever within my body, a sickly thing wrapped up in an eternal shriek.”
“Fuck you,” I cried, lunging for my rifle. Emma disappeared behind a pew, running on all fours without looking back. I spun as I hit the ground, turning the barrel towards the morphing face of the shape-shifter. Its jaw unhinged, a snake-like tongue flicking out as it flew through the air towards me. Hollow fangs dripping clear venom grew from its mouth in a heartbeat, elongating and sharpening before my very eyes.
I fired twice, the bullets entering through its mouth and coming out the back of its head. Its flesh disintegrated in an instant, the body turning into light, gray ashes that disappeared in the breeze. Breathing hard, I waited, wondering if it was all over.
I heard a rumbling far below me, as if an earthquake were starting. A moment later, the church floor exploded upwards, sharp rubble and splintered boards flying in every direction.
***
“It’s coming!” Emma screamed, running over and grabbing my hand. I lay there, shell-shocked and unmoving for a long moment. In hindsight, the girl was a natural born survivor with much sharper reflexes than me. It was likely the only reason she survived as long as she had.
“The Titan,” I whispered grimly, trying to pull myself up to my feet. But it was like trying to walk on a heaving, sinking ship. Parts of the floor collapsed down into a seemingly never-ending abyss beneath us.
Near the stage, I saw hundreds of long, pale arms pulling something bloated and monstrous out of the ground. It was a Titan, and no explanation can ever convey the true horror of that thing.
It looked like countless human corpses had been melted together, fused into a ball with sagging, boneless chests, deformed faces and millions of writhing maggots. It groaned and gurgled with many lungs, exhaling a rotting, sulfurous breeze that made me want to retch. A soft susurration of many pained, muttering voices continuously emanated from the Titan.
“Emma, run!” I screamed, but she was already sprinting back towards the front door of the church. I backpedaled, afraid to look away from the creeping monstrosity, the juggernaut of rotting flesh moving towards us.
I heard the Titan closing the distance as I sprinted through the front door. The abominations with the silver eyes still slunk around the gate, blocking the car. I raised the rifle, firing blindly at the creatures, careful not to hit the little girl.
“Go to the car!” I screamed at Emma, feeling around for the keys. As the abominations saw the Titan, those still alive scattered, moving in a blur back into the shadows and homes of this rotten place.
The Titan broke the front wall of the church, sending splinters of red stone flying in every direction like bullets. It groaned and gurgled faster, its sickly cries more insistent. I ran to the Mercedes, starting it up and pressing the accelerator to the floor. I pulled a U-turn, heading back to the border of the anomaly.
***
The engine roared, the car bucking like a wild stallion as it pressed me and Emma back into our seats. But the creeping Titan continued gaining speed behind us, and for a few seconds, I feared we would be crushed to death under its massive weight.
The anomaly shimmered ahead of us. I crashed through it at two hundred miles an hour, skidding wildly as the Mercedes hit the dirt road. I nearly flew into a tree. I managed to right it at the last second, pulling onto the paved street as the Titan broke through behind us.
It followed us out. It’s in the real world now.