I’m so frustrated with myself. I had lost 20lbs through walking and diet changes, and then I got comfortable. It got hot. Work got busy. I stopped walking daily. I started drinking casually again. I started eating more sugar, refined carbs. And of course I didn’t see the changes at once so I thought maybe my metabolism was working better. Now my scale is up, my clothes are tighter, and I want to cry. I feel defeated.

Hail, dear phantom, I’m glad to see you again. True to my word I went back to the Undead Burg to visit the familiar residents and see if I couldn’t put some of my keys to use. Ultimately, of course, I was after the Bell of Awakening. I believe the Crestfallen Warrior mentioned one being beneath the Undead Burg, so that was what I aimed to uncover.
Instead, I found new threats and an entity that whittled my resilience down to its bare foundation.
My keys brought me to some peculiar locations. I remembered well two locked doors, one in both of the turrets that interrupt the grand wall surrounding the city. In the tower that I passed through to confront the Taurus Demon, is a door that once unlocked brings you further down.
To my surprise, at the bottom of those spiral stone steps, awaited a brute of a warrior. Donned head to toe in armor most robust, wielding a shield that he was able to comfortably hide behind and an even larger club. My initial impression was one of awe, truth be told. He appeared as though he could crush me with his thoughts alone!
As it turned out, it would be his weight and lumber that would work to my advantage. Merely a roll to the side gave me ample opportunity to launch a Soul Arrow his way, something he scarcely had the choice to avoid. So robust was he, however, that I ran out of spell slots before he fell, a very rare feat. Although my Estoc was useless against his impervious armor, some well-placed back stabs put him in the ground for good.
I was fortunate to not suffer a scratch, as I reckon that’s all it would have taken. I pilfered a ring from his corpse, to reveal his name: Havel.
Beyond Havel was a door, one that, to my sheer astonishment, led to the Darkroot Basin. The extent of the Darkroot forest was one I hadn’t anticipated. I thought I had put the verdant murk behind me for a while. And after stepping foot into the green mire and seeing beings composed purely of crystal - I turned the other way. With no spell slots and no bravery, I fled to return another time. Besides, I still had another key I wished to operate.
I decided to unlock the next door and uncover what was beyond before returning to the safety of the Bonfire. I must be growing more audacious. The next door was found just before where the large drake positioned itself, on the second turret.
Before me sprawled another descent, and I found myself in the rotten depths of the Undead Burg before long. Viscous dogs roamed the ruined streets. The path I picked first took me to a door of iron bars that led me back to a familiar spot in the Undead Burg - a location right next to the Bonfire. A very sweet relief.
It was there I readied myself for the dive into the lower Undead Burg. I imagined a sprawling street ripe with rotten ruin. And although that’s what I met, the path was very linear. After I bested an ambush of thieves and roaming dogs, I heard the cries of someone trapped.
I couldn’t believe my luck when I uncovered a fellow sorcerer! Trapped in the depths of that cesspit, of all places. We wore almost the same attire, and he said he would return to Firelink Shrine. Perhaps I was a little too eagre in our greeting, but he would sell me his sorceries all the same when I met him again.
I noticed white light blocking a small arch, and knew something foul stirred within. Before stepping foot through, I wished to uncover the rest of the streets, and my exploration took me to alleys and gutters. After dispatching more thieves, I climbed up another turret that rejoined to the filthy aqueduct that led to Firelink Shrine - just in time to meet my fellow sorcerer once more.
Finally in my wretched journey could I learn more spells. Spells that would serve me extremely well. I purchased the Heavy Soul Arrow and Magic Weapon, to elevate my abilities considerably.
With renewed fervor, I struck down the local ambling Undead with such aggression and power that I shocked myself. None would stand in my way, now, I thought to myself.
I was quickly humbled, dear phantom, when I returned to the lower Undead Burg and traversed through the white light to stand face to face with the abhorrent Capra Demon. Before I had fully stepped out of the white light, its grotesque form was already upon me. If I had moved a split second later, I would have been crushed beneath both its behemoth blades.
Despite my haste, I was not out of danger, for two dogs were quick to rip me to shreds.
Never have I been slain so quickly!
And so I ran again. Up the hill, through the aqueduct, down the spire, through the alley, and up the stairs, only to be greeted by more savage dogs. I was ripped asunder in my careless advance.
Again and again did I make that journey. If I weren’t torn apart by the guarding hounds, then I was swiftly executed by the Capra Demon and its infernal pets. So many times did I make that trip that I was almost driven to madness. Never has wrathful rage stirred so violently in me.
It was those dogs. They were the bane of my attempts to slay the Capra Demon. Too easily they penetrated my cloth garbs; with each bite I couldn’t help but recoil and cry out. Perhaps I was relying on the safety that distance brought me with my sorceries. And so I thought to seek the safety of steel, for once.
As unfamiliar am I with wearing suits of armor, any sort of piece I donned slowed me down dramatically. Nothing more Soul sacrifices to the Bonfire couldn’t remedy, however.
I’ll save you the tale of my time in Darkroot Garden slaying for Souls, although I did notice an unfamiliar sign, written by a fellow phantom. It advised me to strike the tree down in front of it, and to my surprise, the tree soon fell, revealing a long untouched expanse.
In this hidden nook of the solitary garden, resided more of those slumbering stone giants, and a slew of strange amphibian creatures with reptilian features. They fell easy enough, although their long, sharp tongues struck me some times.
At the end of this secluded space was another fortification. I couldn’t believe my luck as I found a discarded Wolf Ring. The moment I slotted it onto my finger I could feel my robustness harden. It was then I had the idea to utilize the ring found on Havel’s body, and I felt my person grow stronger. My punches didn’t hit any harder, but my body could lift things before I sweat to look at.
With these enhancements, I was able to don better armaments and still move as swiftly as I did with my sorcerer garbs.
With the helm of a Bell Gargoyle and the shoddy armor ripped from a hollow, I was ready to face the Capra Demon and its hounds. No bite shall affect me so viscerally, now, thanks to my rings.
I stepped into the white light and immediately rolled past the demon’s lunge. Although the dogs were at my heels in an instant, their clamping maws didn’t cause me to pause. With my Estoc enhanced with magic, I was able to end their miserable existence upon the stairs.
Without his hounds, the Capra Demon wasn’t such a challenge, especially as my Heavy Soul Arrows punctured deep into his ruinous hide. It wasn’t long, then, before it fell, and yet another key came into my clutches.
My victory over the Capra Demon wasn’t nearly as jubilant an occasion as I suspected, although I didn’t kill it for the thrill of the hunt.
With the key in my withered hands, I headed back into the alley and opened the door, to peer into the Depths.
I was wrong to suspect a Bonfire close by, and in exploring the dank depths, I found a quick end at the hands of a swallowing and oozing creature, something I could scarcely see before I found myself back at Firelink Shrine, here to meet you.
I shall tell you more of my adventure into the Depths another time, should you care to listen. I have prattled on long enough, have I not?
Godspeed, good phantom.

"I wanted to nab the thief while Exbo here wanted to get his buddy back. Although it was our first meeting, we fought together. That guy may have escaped, but we've decided to battle together from now on. Even if I meet new Pokemon along the way, I will still treat them the same way, because to me...Pokemon are my partners! We work alongside for the same goals, because...we are partners!"
Gold was raised around Pokemon, his home having so many it was known as the Poké House to those in the community. But after a chance encounter leads to his Pokemon being stolen and being the sole witness to a boy stealing Professor Elm's Totodile, Gold gives the police a false description of the thief before setting out with a Pokedex and a Cyndaquil to hunt him down himself. Along the way, Gold demonstrates a deceptive fighting style, often using his cue to send Pokeballs in strange directions and using other members of his team to hide the key play another Pokemon is performing, as well as an ability to nurture the full potential out of any Pokemon from as early as them being in an egg, earning him the moniker of 'the Hatcher'. With these skills, Gold would prove a key player as he faced off against the likes of a revived Team Rocket, a masked man seeking to rewrite time, and even Arceus themselves.
All feats are tagged with the chapter they appear in.

Gold

Physicals

Strength

• Shattered the Masked Man's mask with his cue¹⁷²
• With Silver, holds back a large metal boulder⁹⁸

Durability - Blunt Force

• Kicked in the face by Crystal⁴⁶⁰
• Struck in the back by Whitney's Miltank¹⁰⁵
• Kicked away by Sapphire while in a suit of armour³²⁸
• Hit back by the Masked Man¹⁷²
• Slammed into the ground by Ho-Oh¹⁶⁶
• Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them⁴⁵³
• Hit away by Arceus⁴⁵⁴
• Kicked by Arceus⁴⁵⁹

Durability - Other

• Thrown about by water as an island sized water construct strikes the Battle Tower³²⁹
• Sent flying into a distant wall by Guile³³⁴
• Bitten on the hand by Silver's Totodile⁹⁸
• Falls a distance onto a beach after his Mantine was struck out of the air by Lugia¹⁴⁸
• Struck by Masked Man's Deliberd's Icy Wind¹¹³
• Caught in Masked Man's Deliberd's Blizzard¹¹³
• Seemingly caught in Jirachi's Doom Desire³³⁴
• Seemingly knocked back by a beam from Arceus⁴⁵⁹

Speed

• Dodges an attack from a group of Bellsprout⁹⁷
• Dodges a beam from a Gyarados¹¹²
• Dodges a beam from Arceus⁴⁵³
• Dodges a spike trap suddenly appearing from a wall⁹⁸
• Saves a girl from an Ursaring strike¹⁰¹

Skill

Cue Shots - Regular

• Curves a Pokeball behind an opponent⁹³
• Hits Aipom's ball to the top of a tree, where they're then released⁹¹
• Hits a fleeing Pokemon with enough force to relocate its jaw¹⁰¹

Cue Shots - Ricochet

• While being swept away in a river in a storm, hits Exbo's ball so it rebounds off of two surfaces and gets him safely to shore⁹⁵
• Bounces a pokeball repeatedly between the walls, ceiling, and floor of a room with a single strike to make several Yanma dizzy¹⁵⁴
• Ricochets a Friend Ball repeatedly around two Pokemon before hitting a Heavy Ball at their two feet, sending both pokeballs to Gold's and Silver's hands respectively¹⁰¹

Other

• Throws his cue to block a pair of shutters from closing on Emerald³²⁸
• Drops a distance onto a board on a rough sea, maintaining balance for a short distance due to it being 'not so different' from skateboarding¹⁴⁶

Intelligence

Battles

• On numerous occasions has used a Pokemon as a distraction while a second Pokemon enacts his actual strategy in secret¹¹¹
• Returns Aibo before curving his ball around an opponent, allowing him to strike their behind⁹³
• Has the other Pokedex holders withdraw their Pokemon before having Aibo ride his skateboard with them at Guile Hideout, allowing all the Pokemon to be released directly on top of him³²⁹
• Throws Aibo in front of a charging Donphan before he uses his tail to pull himself to safety, in that brief moment successfully confusing the Pokemon and causing them to charge into a wall⁹⁶
• Goads a team of Bellsprout into stacking on top of each other, allowing Cyndaquil to take them all out at once⁹⁷
• Has a school of Remoraid attack Lugia's mouth, stopping the legendary from closing it and being able to use Aeroblast¹⁴⁸
• Calculates how long a Pokeball could endure a Dragonite's Hyper Beam, uses the fact that said Hyper Beam is not changing direction in midair to tell that its trainer isn't present to give it orders, and uses this to get the Dragonite to attack in a specific direction and allow Togbo to attack them from behind⁴⁴⁴

Deception

• Drops a straw doll from a tree as a decoy, allowing him to get behind the Masked Man to attack him¹⁰⁴
• Disappears in a smokescreen, intending to drive the Masked Man into pursuing him through a forest, while he had actually climbed a tree so he could climb back down when the coast was clear to save a trainer and his Pokemon¹⁰⁴

Other

• Modifies his skateboard with bike parts¹⁰⁵
• Hits Aipom's ball up a tree to release him before using a heavy pack as a counterweight to lift him up⁹¹
• Uses the fact Yanma have 360 degree vision in a plan to make them dizzy and have one drop a baby¹⁵⁴
• Has Aipom strike the centre of a stack of blocks, allowing the rest of his team to easily smash through the entire stack while they previously were only able to break through a few, winning him the round against a Machamp which could easily smash through stacks on his own⁴⁴³
• Memorizes all the obstacles on a course by going along it the wrong way on his skateboard, allowing him to guide his Togepi around it flawlessly when the Pokemon was blinded⁴⁴²
• Had the foresight to hold onto Emerald's broken mechanical hand, causing Archie to grab hold of it and allowing Gold to let him drop³³⁵

Gear

Pokedex

• His Pokedex shows a Pokemon's strength and attacks⁹⁵
• Identifies four Pokemon at once¹⁰³
• Identifies an attack as the Pokemon is lunging towards him¹⁰³
• Can perform trades with other Pokedex owners¹⁰⁹
• Is capable of tracking the energy of a specific Pokemon the owner has made contact with¹⁴⁹
  • Can't do this if the Pokemon's been caught by someone else⁴⁹
• When three Pokedexes in possession of their true owners are close to each other, all of them make a noise¹⁴⁶

Pokeballs

• Pokemon are held in pokeballs, which have a translucent top which Gold can see Pokemon through⁹³
• They and their Pokemon can return to Gold's hand as he wishes⁹³
• Protect Pokemon from attacks, though they can be destroyed⁴⁴⁴
• Pokemon can move their balls from the inside¹⁰⁷

Cue

• A cue, which he uses to perform trick shots with his pokeballs⁹³
• Clashes with Guile Hideout's sword³²⁹
• Used to quickly change his direction on a skateboard⁹⁶
• Throws it to stop metal shutters from closing on Emerald³²⁸
• Is collapsible³²⁸
• Holds it in his clothes, not his bag¹⁴⁵

Other

• His pokegear allows him to make and take calls⁹⁵
• A pair of goggles, used to protect him from the likes of Exbo's Smokescreen⁹⁸
  • Protect him from Sunbo's Flash¹⁰⁰
• Carries rope to climb up a pagoda⁹⁷
• Uses a skateboard to get around⁹⁵

Other

• Is given the title of 'The Hatcher' by Professor Oak, with him causing a Pichu egg to hatch the instant he touched it¹⁷⁸
  • This ability was developed due to him having lived with Pokemon he considered his family all his life, and allows him to draw out the full potential of a Pokemon¹⁸⁰
  • A Pokemon will have its personality influenced by the emotions felt by Gold as they hatch¹⁷⁹
• Guides his team into winning the Skill, Jump, Stamina, Speed, and Power Pokeathlon courses^442-443
• Despite all his skill, still cheats at pool at a games corner¹⁰⁷

Aibo the Ambipom

As An Aipom

Physicals

• Breaks a block with his tail⁴⁴³
  • When deliberately placing cracks on the centre of the top tile, Aibo could smash through ten plates at once⁴⁴³
• Holds up Gold while clutching a branch with his tail⁹¹
• Lifts up and throws an enormous Snowball⁴⁴²
• Thrown about by water as an island sized water construct strikes the Battle Tower³²⁹
• Struck away by a Donphan's Horn Attack⁹⁶
• Catches a nearby Sunkern in his tail so that Gold can catch them⁹⁹
• Reacts fast enough to catch Gold after the floor's broken beneath them⁹⁷
• Rapidly spins Gold's cue with his tail to enhance Exbo's fire³²⁸

Moves

• Scratch - Aibo repeatedly scratches a foe⁹¹
• Swagger - Confuses a Hoothoot, causing it to attack its trainer instead of falsely calling out that a timer's up⁹²
  • Is briefly in front of a charging Donphan before getting pulled away, with the Donphan getting confused and crashing into a wall⁹⁶
• Double Team - Creates an illusionary duplicate, allowing him to dodge an attack¹¹³
• Agility - Greatly increases Aibo's speed¹⁷²
• Baton Pass - Passes stat increases, such as that gained through Agility, to another of Gold's Pokemon¹⁷²
• Double Hit - Allows him to attack opponents on opposite sides of him at the same time with his tail, and immediately causes him to evolve⁴⁴⁸

Other

• Hears the sound of Unown through a wall in some ruins¹⁰⁰
• Has the ability Run Away⁴⁴²

As An Ambipom

Physicals

• Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them⁴⁵³
• Poked back by Arceus⁴⁵¹
• Hit by a beam from Arceus⁴⁵⁹

Moves

• Double Hit - Strikes a foe with his tails⁴⁵¹

Other

• Is level 83 and has the Technician ability⁴⁵⁶

Exbo the Typhlosion

As A Cyndaquil

Physicals

• Breaks through a wooden floor⁹⁷
• Gets bitten and scratched by Silver's Totodile⁹⁸
• Intercepts an attack which is about to hit Gold¹⁰³

Moves

• Ember - Shoots a tall pillar of fire from his back, burning Silver's hand while he's hanging on to a tall branch⁹⁴
  • Knocks out a tower of Bellsprout at once⁹⁷
  • Hits back a Primape while boosted by Sunbo's Sunny Day¹⁰⁸
  • Rapidly heats a large metal boulder, allowing Totodile to cool and shatter it with Water Gun⁹⁸
  • Creates a ring of fire around Silver to stop him from escaping⁹⁴
  • Breaks through a wall in a ruin¹⁰⁰
• Tackle - Exbo charges into an opponent⁹⁸
• Smokescreen - Covers an area in obscuring smoke⁹⁸

Other

• Used to cook food for Gold, though he increases the heat and quickly burns it¹⁰⁰
• Can't emit fire while bound up¹⁰⁰

As A Quilava

Physicals

• Alongside Silver's Croconaw and Crystal's Bayleef, stops Lugia's wing from crushing their trainers and hold it up before evolving¹⁴⁸
• Struck by Silver's Croconaw's Water Gun¹¹¹

Moves

• Ember - Works alongside Silver's Croconaw and Crystal's Bayleef to slightly deflect Lugia's Aeroblast¹⁴⁷
• Double Team - Creates an illusory duplicate, making Croconaw bite down on nothing¹¹¹
• Flame Wheel - Creates a wheel of fire around him, catching several Pokemon¹¹⁴

As A Typhlosion

Physicals

• Breaks three blocks with a punch⁴⁴³
  • When Aibo deliberately placed cracks on the centre of the top tile, Exbo could smash through ten plates at once⁴⁴³
• Alongside Silver's Croconaw and Crystal's Bayleef, continues to hold up Lugia's wing to stop it from crushing their trainers¹⁴⁸
• Thrown about by water as an island sized water construct strikes the Battle Tower³²⁹
• Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them⁴⁵³
• Hit by a beam from Arceus⁴⁵⁹

Moves

• Blast Burn - A stream of fire which, alongside eleven other Pokemon, destroys an island-sized water construct^335-336
  • Seems to knock back Arceus' head⁴⁴²
• With an unnamed fire attack enhanced by Aibo rapidly spinning Gold's cue, creates a powerful blast of fire which knocks back Guile Hideout³²⁸

Other

• Is level 84 with the ability Blaze⁴⁵⁶

Sunbo the Sunflora

As A Sunkern

Physicals

• Bounces extremely high, bringing Exbo's Pokeball up close to a flying Skarmory⁹⁹

Moves

• Flash - Emits a bright light which blinds several Team Rocket grunts and their Pokemon¹⁰⁰
• Growth - Presumably increases Sunbo's strength, though its effect has not been clearly shown¹⁰³
• Mega Drain - Presumably absorbs energy from an opponent, but it's not seen in use¹⁰⁴
• Sunny Day - Increases the power of nearby fire-type moves¹⁰⁸
• Giga Drain - Absorbs the energy of a Magcargo and a Sloking alongside Crystal's Parasect¹⁶⁴

As A Sunflora

Physicals

• Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them⁴⁵³
• Hit by a beam from Arceus⁴⁵⁹

Moves

• Sunny Day - Increases the strength of Exbo's fire attacks¹⁷²
• Solar Beam - Used off-screen⁴⁵⁹

Other

• Is level 75 with the ability Chlorophyll⁴⁵⁶

Polibo the Politoed

As A Poliwag

Moves

• Water Gun - Sends a Donphan flying back with a stream of water¹⁰⁸

Other

• Draws water from underground while using water type moves¹⁰⁹

As A Politoed

Physicals

• Breaks a block with a punch⁴⁴³
  • When Aibo deliberately placed cracks on the centre of the top tile, Polibo could smash through ten plates at once⁴⁴³
• Alongside Red's Poliwrath, breaks apart Archie's armour³³⁵
• Struck with Guile's knee³³⁵
• Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them⁴⁵³
• Hit by a beam from Arceus⁴⁵⁹
• Struck by Masked Man's Deliberd's Icy Wind¹¹³
• Caught in Masked Man's Deliberd's Blizzard¹¹³
• Dodges a beam from a Gyarados¹¹²
• Dodges a beam from Arceus⁴⁵³

Moves

• Water Gun - Harms Tyranitar with a stream of water, possibly shooting three streams at once though this could simply be representing how fast Silver's Murkrow is moving to block it¹¹¹
• Whirlpool - Creates a whirlpool at the Lake of Rage to stun a Gyarados¹¹²
  • Uses the destroyed rubble left behind by a giant Piloswine to defeat it, with Silver reasoning that it can do so because the Piloswine's earthquake shockwaves made the solids act like liquids¹¹⁰
• Double Slap - Repeatedly hits an opponent¹¹²
• Dynamic Punch - Polibo lunges forwards with a powerful punch¹¹³
• Hypnosis - Puts a crowd of Pokemon to sleep at once¹⁶⁶
• Perish Song - Instantly knocks out Masked Man's Delibird, but also knocks out Polibo himself¹⁷²
• Bounce - Used off-screen⁴⁵⁹

Other

• Is level 80 with the ability Water Absorb⁴⁵⁶

Sudobo the Sudowoodo

Physicals

• Lifts up a large piece of rubble¹⁶⁶
• No-sells Whitney's Miltank's Tackle and Exbo's Ember¹⁰⁵
• Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them⁴⁵³
• Hit by Silver's Ursaring's Fury Swipes¹¹¹
• Bitten by Ho-Oh¹⁶⁶
• Hit by a beam from Arceus⁴⁵⁹

Moves

• Focus Punch - Strikes a Rhydon, knocking it out¹⁰⁶
• Low Kick - He extends his leg forwards at crazy angles, tripping up an opponent¹¹¹
  • Seemingly used fast enough to create afterimages⁴⁵⁵
• Dynamic Punch - Lunges forwards with a powerful strike which breaks stone¹¹¹
• Mimic - Sudobo uses the move his opponent's most recently used, allowing him to trade Fury Swipe blows with Silver's Ursaring¹¹¹
• Mud Slap - Throws up mud in a failed attempt to hold off Ho-Oh¹⁶⁶
• Flail - After being bitten by Ho-Oh, sends the legendary flying away¹⁶⁶
• Rock Tomb - Used off-screen⁴⁵⁹

Other

• Is level 78 with the ability Sturdy⁴⁵⁶
• Is capable of growing to create a highly convincing tree disguise, shrinking when revealing himself¹⁰⁶
  • Tricks a Gligar into landing on him like this in order to catch it¹⁰⁷

Togebo the Togekiss

As A Togepi

Physicals

• Immediately after hatching knocks Gligar back a short distance before getting hit away¹⁰⁷
• Seemingly endures part of a Dragonite's Hyper Beam after the Pokeball took the brunt of the attack (with said beam being able to destroy stone), then takes out the Dragonite with an attack to the back of the head⁴⁴⁴
• Struck away by a Dotrio⁴⁴²
• Sent flying back from Arceus hitting the ground near them⁴⁵³
• Struck away by Arceus before being hit point-blank by a beam⁴⁵⁹
• Hit by a beam from Arceus⁴⁵⁹

Moves

• Metronome - Uses a random move, in its debut appearance hitting a Gligar with a beam strong enough to knock them out¹⁰⁷
• Double Edge - Pierces into a Tyranitar's foot, taking it down¹¹¹

Other

• Is level 81 with the ability Hustle⁴⁵⁶
• Runs at full pelt around an obstacle course, following Gold's commands to dodge obstacles⁴⁴²
• Is a delinquent from birth due to Gold taking them to Game Corners while they were still an egg¹⁰⁷

As a Togekiss

Physicals

• Flies carrying Gold⁴⁶⁰

Moves

• Double Edge - Charges into Arceus, staggering them⁴⁵⁹

Tibo the Mantine and 20 Remoraid

Moves

• Water Gun - The Remoraid all blast Lugia with streams of water, forcing its mouth to stay open¹⁴⁸

Other

• Flies through the air with Gold hanging on with his cue¹⁴⁷

Pibu the Pichu

Moves

• Enhanced by Raikou's power, releases a powerful electric blast dubbed Super Rising Thunder to attack Pryce¹⁸⁰

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- - - - -
Ceele strolled through the damp grass along the outskirts of the village, a spring in her step and the dwindling scent of dew following behind. It rained yesterday, which had prevented her from going out to gather supplies, but the mild morning air had been accommodating enough for her to get an early start and make the trip. She was glad she did.
One hand clutched her new prize to her chest, while the other held a fraying wicker basket filled with herbs and some edible roots she gathered by exploring the forbidden forest. Despite her reservations regarding where she chose to go, her excitement now lingered like a steady thrum of shifting stones, giving her energy that defied how long she had been walking. She all but pranced beneath the burgeoning night's sky, gleefully toeing the line between the dirt pathways of the settlement’s outskirts and the trees of unclaimed land. Normally, her path back home would never be so close to the village, but she was far too gleeful to mind. She had come back with a sense of fulfillment and a rare object—or if not rare, then hopefully of great value.
It was hard to point to any one specific reason that she came across the orb. There had always been a ‘draw’ during her travels, urging her that there was something missing in her life, yet it was no more than a mild whim to walk in a particular direction more often than not. Once she reached this part of the continent, she was compelled to wander, never quite able to explain why she obliged the sensation besides having nowhere in particular to be. Even when she finally settled somewhere, it stayed in the back of her mind, suggesting that she was close to whatever would make the pit of vacancy go away. She ignored it, purposefully distracting herself with her work and responsibilities, yet that could only last so long. When she awoke this morning with plans to resupply, and all of her newfound spots had been picked clean by wildlife, she turned to the depths of the forest where she was warned not to tread. It was all too easy to follow the subtle tug in her chest through the loose justification.
The urge to be somewhere grew unbearable with every step closer to the forbidden area. That sense of having a direction she needed to go became stronger and stronger, until she was well into land long since forgotten. She came across an overgrown depression in the hillside, and was entranced by the foreboding image. Something about the cave just…beckoned her. She was far too weak to resist.
Horrible tales echoed into her ears as whispers of fearful voices, warning and unending, yet but a dull drone compared to her hammering heart. She navigated the trees and brushed aside unkempt vines, stepping into the cavern with a mix of expectation and trepidation, then laid eyes on the small obsidian stone perched atop a crumbling pillar. The feeling of needing to travel somewhere…stopped.
The pull was absent, which was why she held the orb close instead of placing it into her basket. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she recalled overheard tales of hidden gemstones, deep cavernous expanses, and the untold terrors that lay within. Comparing the scenes of those fables to the cave seemed foolish now; it wasn’t some torturous chamber, but a dusty depression in a small hillside. Besides, anything this pretty was sure to be worth a fair sum, and she needed the coin. Yet the thought of selling the precious-looking stone was a conflicting one. She shook off the thought for the time being, turning her attention back towards where she was going.
Shadows stretched and faded as the moon stole the last of the illumination afforded by the sun, replacing it with a calming glow that caressed the log frames and thatched roofs of various homes. A star-filled sky came into prominence as clouds lazily drifted away, revealing the promise of tomorrow’s fair-weathered arrival. It was too late for anyone to notice her treading on the edge of their town while lost in thought, but she was still careful not to get too close to the houses or livestock pens where people might be finishing the evening’s duties. It was best that they didn’t see her returning from a place she was told not to go. Still, her feet carried her near the dwellings as she took in the noises.
Ceele enjoyed the comforting chatter from a distance. Indistinct words floated freely. Meaningless gossip and warm goodbyes were exchanged between friends and family. Places of various occupations were dark and quiet, only the faint contented mewls and clucks of livestock coming from their pastures as they ate what was recently put out for them. No metal rang throughout the streets as it was struck inside a centralized smithy, no heated bartering came from an overactive trade house, and the crunch of dirt beneath transport or merchant wagons was absent, replaced by the rapid steps and yelps of children rushing to their homes before it got too dark out. It was all just gentle conversation and life drifting through the wind, taking the rustle of leaves along for the ride, just so she could hear it. Tranquil, in a word.
She wondered what it would sound like if she were yet one more voice within that crowd of kindness. Would it be loud like the larger cities? Would she struggle to maintain a thought with so many stray topics floating about? Would she once more yearn for the peace and quiet of solitude that she had grown used to, or would she immerse herself, free of judgment and laughing like the carefree young that scampered about? Did thinking about it even matter?
Her smile fell from its genuine intensity—still worn, but not as fully. She glanced downward as her stride lost its jubilant bounce, her tail losing its sway as her grey eyes examined the dry black scales that adorned her body against her wishes. It was the ugly hue of tarnished oil, unlike the skin of any other kobold she had met. Some had reds or greens, yellows or whites, while most were between a sandy tan or earthen brown. The rainbow of peculiarities was displayed by the lucky few, and she was one of them…
…Yet she was different in the worst of ways.
Even if she would rather any other colour, she supposed it was that way to make sure no one came near without accepting the unspoken risks. That was what her mother always said, anyway, though the woman hardly feared much of anything in her old age, and dedicated herself to giving her offspring all the love she had left to give—a perk of living a full life. She would always help her daughter bathe, complimenting the colour of what most were unnerved by. That was more than a decade ago now, however. Ceele’s parents had passed on while she was still young, and she took to travelling not long after, working at what she could to afford what little she needed. Never for long, though—just enough to get to the next town between where she was and where the urge to go lay. There were certainly moments she looked back on fondly, but the journey had taken its toll.
The crude material of her ‘dress’ was coarse, old, and heavy, but it helped ease the worst of spring's chill—even if it was more of a modified sack than proper attire. Still, it was all she had after the last of her clothing fell apart, and giving the repurposed material a name that reminded her of something else made it less uncomfortable to wear, somehow. It would have to do until she could afford a pitying seamstress or the like. Until then, she would pretend she didn’t look so desperate, even if it only highlighted her status and made finding work difficult.
But it did. The dishevelled garment was a far cry from the wonderful silks or breathtaking designs she had seen some women wear, harshly marking the distinction between herself and those of affluence. The clothing of commoners was also a leap in style and quality, so she couldn't say her attire was up to even modest standards. No matter how hard she squinted, and no matter how much she fantasized otherwise, she seemed every bit like the vagrant she was, down to the soil embedded in the curvature of her claws and the stains throughout her fabrics. She looked like a serf from the more oppressed lands, yet they too wore crude cottons, which said a lot about how she appeared to those who had never lived a life of servitude. It was obvious that she was an outsider. That she didn't belong amongst the rest. It made changing something as simple as her appearance all the more difficult; prospective employment always saw a young woman who seemed more likely to steal or swindle than make an honest day’s living.
There was one good twist of fate in recent memory, however, and she came upon the result of it after leaving the slowing bustle of the village behind. Her steps carried her through a small copse of trees on the outskirts of town, the small shaded path leading to the back of a large, carefully pruned clearing, a scattering of fruit-bearing trees providing even darker shadow than the already dim moonlight. She skirted along the aging fence on the border that kept predatory animals away, carefully hoisting herself over the barrier where a large vegetable garden she was responsible for tending resided. If one were to tell her she would be living in such an area several months ago, she would have smiled politely and walked away, yet here she was.
A modest, warmly lit home occupied the middle of the clearing, sitting front and centre when one approached from the village path. It looked quite cozy, surrounded by berry bushes that were just beginning to bloom as the last dregs of winter slipped away. A front patio displayed a nice table and well-loved chairs, the rustic appearance only adding to its charm as a place where friends and family spent the warm summer afternoons. A smithy to the left of the house functioned as an additional heated building during the colder months, but usually served as a storefront and to muffle the sounds of hammered iron, though that had become less common. An old stable was nearby, close enough to be accessible, but not so close as to disturb the once occupying animals with sounds of iron craft. It hadn't seen a horse in quite some time, apparently, so it was mostly a workshop for whatever tasks didn’t require fire or metal.
There was a long history attached to each little detail—from the scuffs along the wooden siding to the depressions in the ground where daily routine wore into the earth. Every fault suffered throughout the years was matched by a thousand quirks that made it feel welcoming, like the house itself was merely waiting for the next friendly face with one of its own. She knew that the inside of each building would look just as cared for.
Her concern lay outside, however. It was a comparatively miniscule space just barely visible through the sheltering trees, true, yet it was where her efforts turned into tangible results, and where a stranger’s trust was painstakingly repaid. Once overgrown grass had been laboriously trimmed, the weeds plucked and disposed of, and now nothing distracted from what she could claim she had done.
The small plots of rock-bordered soil had little buds of growing vegetables, a sense of pride never failing to bloom in her breast with the knowledge that it would be barren without her touch. When her troubles and concerns grew heavy, and fears of the future or spectres of the past loomed over her head, she could look at where she had brought life where it wouldn't otherwise be. Some days, that was enough. She smiled in appreciation at what was admittedly amateur work, the night’s sky helping to hide any inevitably made mistakes.
She enjoyed the sight for a moment longer, then turned to walk towards a neglected old tool shed that was well out of sight within the trees, far away from whatever warmth and comfort the larger house offered to everyone and anyone. She put a hand on the degrading wood of the entryway, giving one last sad smile at the garden as she dismissed selfish thoughts of taking the eventual harvest for herself. A breath cleared the uncertainty from her voice, and she pushed open the door.
“I'm home!”
= = = = =
It took a while for Altier to adjust to his situation, and even once he accepted that his mana wasn't being siphoned, he was still reeling from confusion. He had spent centuries with every year passing by without his notice, yet now he was painfully aware of each creeping second languidly dragging on with the expediency of growing grass. It was as disorienting as it was painfully nostalgic.
Time was something he was never good with, and it only got worse as a dungeon. He'd get lost in creating rooms, corridors, creatures, and whatever else needed doing, only pausing to watch or listen to the few adventurers he became interested in. There was a stint where he spent what felt like hours agonizing over new abilities or options while he let the system manage things in the background, though he supposed it might have been much longer. So many wasted days, yet he still hadn't managed to try everything he had gained access to. Some abilities were simply too niche, came with concerning titles, or held descriptions that made him wary. Anything with ‘Decay’ in the name was instantly ignored—he didn't need more reasons to fear his affinity, and from the few he took the effort to read through, they were always vile.
But his existence for the moment was no longer like those endless stretches spent pondering the minutiae of what would help his adventurers grow stronger. Now, he could follow the rhythmic sounds of footsteps and steady breathing that set a calming pace. They were someone else's, yes, but they contextualized how easy it was to slip away without the subtle noises of life that he had long since surrendered to help his family. Of course, there were more differences that he noticed since being removed from his crumbling cavern, and his sight was the newest change.
He never gave much thought to how far he could see before. Why would he? As a man, his world extended as far as he could fathom, yet was also confined to the room where he spent his days, and as a dungeon… Well, who was he to consider distance when an event happening miles away could be seen with a flicker of thought? Nothing was too far when it was within his creation. Or his ‘body,’ he supposed. Sadly, his entire perception currently consisted of the small sphere of his obsidian core, and maybe a finger's length beyond it—which is to say, not much. He could make out the fine details in the dirty burlap he was held against, and how pale moonlight slowly took over the blurred reds of sunset, but hardly anything more. It was all just frosted colours after a certain point, and he found it infinitely frustrating. He just wanted to peer beyond the haze and scaly hand holding him to confirm that the sky he remembered was still there. Alas, the sunlight faded at too quick a pace, yet one oh so agonizingly slow.
The ensuing darkness gave him nothing to do but think about where he was, not that he had any ideas. He was too curious about why he wasn't dead to bother much with his blurry surroundings after the soft-spoken kobold abducted him, thus why he only belatedly noticed how limited his worldview had become. There might have been a forest beyond his cave, but the greens and browns were gone, and the sounds of steps through brush was replaced by the distant din of a village. An idle curiosity pondered if he would recognize any descents of his ‘family tradition’ adventurers there, but he was being carried by what most considered a monster, so likely not.
That short musing was short-lived, however, and he brought his focus back to the matter at hand. He supposed he was being taken somewhere specific, but that was an obvious deduction, considering he was taken at all. The why of the matter was less so; for what purpose would someone want a Decay-aligned core? He hadn’t heard of them before…well, before he was made into one, but he couldn’t imagine many uses. Maybe he was being sold? His…kidnapper? His sudden companion seemed rather pleased by their discovery of him, so that might be the case, and it was morbidly amusing to think that a frail, sickly young man might one day become a coveted, highly valuable item. His abduction could also be a part of some cult’s nefarious activities, but he didn't want to think about that too hard. He experienced enough odd ceremonies from the adventurers who took the time to tell him their tales.
Either way, he wasn't in the dungeon anymore, and he couldn’t see where he was going. He tried to query his menu to glean an answer, but was met with a scrambled mess he suspected read ‘Synchronizing…’ and little else. It gave him a headache trying to make sense of it—which he didn't know was possible anymore—so he dismissed the text and distracted himself with blurs from whatever diluted senses he still had. There wasn’t much to observe other than the constant footfalls and the flicker of shadows on his companion’s burlap garment. They might have travelled through brush again, but it was too dark to really say for certain.
Eventually, there was something new. He heard an old latch rattle and rusted door hinges groan, then a shuddered clack that confirmed he was now in a building. His kobold acquaintance gently cooed at something before moving about the nearly pitch-black space, finally setting him down on a… He wasn’t sure what it was, besides old and wooden.
[D$#@m$n E@$*ded]
The headache from before became a blinding migraine that suffocated him under a flash-flood of suffering. Seconds passed in abject torture until it blissfully abated, the mental blinks clearing his mind enough to notice a change in his existence. Specifically, he could actually see something besides the rotting wood grain he was placed on top of.
And it wasn’t anything promising…
He was more or less in the centre of a room no bigger than twelve paces by maybe ten. Not a terrible size for a space, but it was clearly never meant to house someone. His resting place looked about as neglected as he surmised; it was an upturned feeding trough, he supposed, since calling it a table seemed too generous. The surface was rife with holes and degraded iron, so it was something that once saw regular use before being replaced and tossed into storage, never to see the light of day again.
Actually, most things in the room seemed to fit that description. The window shutters were installed with metal hinges that had since rusted them closed, the misalignment letting in a draft—and whatever weather was outside as well, most likely. A poorly carved bowl sat on the floor, the stain beneath it hinting that it collected any rainwater that slowly dripped from the leaky roof. The wooden floorboards looked old, splintered, and in need of maintenance or replacement, though an effort had been put into abrading it somewhat smooth lately.
A tiny and decrepit fireplace was to the left of the door upon entry, its brickwork slowly crumbling due to weathering and age. It was sized more for keeping the room warm during mild days than to keep away the frigid chill of night. Its base only held cold ashes, but there was a collection of deadwood and scraps nearby, so that would probably be rectified soon. A small wheel-less cart had been turned into storage against the opposite wall, some herbs and other foraged items stowed away in it for future use. Various things he remembered seeing his father and brothers use in the fields were scattered about, too. It was nostalgic to see, honestly, even if his recollections had blurred over time.
Bundles of tattered blankets formed a pair of nests in the far corner, the smaller of the two had a pile of rough plants nearby. That answered his silent pondering of the room's purpose somewhat, though he was pretty sure the bedding material was salvaged, and there didn’t seem to be any hay or padding underneath whoever was sleeping on it. He didn’t know what to think about the weeds; they were purposefully placed there, and whoever did so had taken the time to wash them, but it was still strange.
He couldn’t see a doorway besides the entrance, yet most of the hallmarks of residency were put where space could be afforded, however crude. All in all, he surmised that it was a gardening shed of sorts, and his new acquaintance apparently lived here. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when a creature he had only read about came into his dungeon, but it wasn't being brought to a rundown and decrepit shack for unknown purposes.
Even if he had been raised by parents who made a humble living at the best of times, and they had emptied their coffers for unsuccessful attempts to ease his ailments, his acquaintance's living space made him uncomfortable. His family's house was never anything fancy, true—it shared some of the worn qualities that inevitably gathered over the years—but it was never this bad. His home benefited from a father's touch keeping it robust and a mother’s love keeping it warm, whereas this place had seen neither in quite some time. Oh, there was evidence that such was once the case; a wall was adorned with carefully made and well-spaced hangers for the various gardening tools, though the implements themselves had become a victim of neglect. That being said, he could make out the fresh soil and recent scratches exposing furrows of silver, so they were seeing use again.
A scrape and clack of flint drew his attention to his kobold companion. They were kneeling in front of the fireplace, methodically sparking life back into a dead flame with twigs and dried leaves. A slow, steady breath into the reddened base illuminated its face with a dull orange glow, revealing its weary visage and the permanently etched smile that rested beneath its cold grey eyes. The black-scaled kobold looked tired, if he were to guess—much the same as Altier did when he spent countless days watching everyone living a life he could never have through the mossy window of his bedroom. He was probably humanizing it too much. Still, he was surprised by the muted pang of sympathy, and how he would feel much more than blithe curiosity after spending so much time alone in the crumbling crypt of his own making.
A mental breath cycled through him as he looked at the odds and ends yet to be observed. Hardly anything else was of note—everything else was degraded and neglected, too. He did notice a nest of blankets move though, which was as good a distraction as any. The answer to his previous ‘pile of weeds’ inquiry poked a tiny nose from a crease in the fabric, then rapidly pawed at the blankets to dig itself out. Altier stared at the creature in both recognition and confusion.
It was a rabbit…or at least it looked like one, assuming you were to also describe a porcupine and a sea urchin as well. He was pretty sure he didn’t remember any hare that had jagged metal-tipped fur, nor that had said fur arranged into a row of spiked horns that flowed down its spine, terminating at a large fluffy tail, which was equally bizarre to see. The whole of its coat could double as a weapon, with semi-sharp barbs sticking off seemingly at random, yet he remembered an adventurer saying most animals used that sort of thing defensively. He increased his focus as he tried to make sense of the odd creature. Surely he would have heard about—
[Hoppittttttt#%%÷ — Ferro-o-orabbit-it (Ma%$le)
Abil—]
[Null]
[Er0Rrrrrrrr—]
[Und#$f—]
He bit back the pain caused by the sudden intrusion of his menu, blanking out the text and mentally retreating to hide from the source. Did he just inspect something? How? Shouldn’t his entire…‘framework,’ was it…? Yes, that was it. Shouldn’t that have been corrupted? Why could he see the creature’s information when his entire framework was damaged? That was the first ability he lost, so why is it the first to be functional? How was it functional? Was it? It did just spit garbled text at him, but it was something, and that was more than he had gotten from it in a very long time. If it was somehow working—no matter how poorly—then that left the question of why he hadn't heard of anything called a ‘ferrorabbit’ before, assuming he read that correctly.
A soft thud vibrated the tro— table, startling him out of thought. He turned his attention to the button nose wiggling erratically at him, the short, stubby muzzle leading to surprisingly expressive and curious red eyes. Dull brown fur jutted off in random tufts and patches, changing to a darker tint on its paws and the upper half of its ears, while the tips of its spikes were a muted hue of iron. It still seemed just as soft as the less pointed variety he remembered, if a touch dirty. Upright ears twitched this way and that way as its head vigorously shook, eventually settling on pointing in his direction when it calmed down enough.
It was apparent that he had its undivided attention…for all of a few seconds. His scaly companion called something out in their foreign tongue, and whatever conclusion the pointy-furred animal came to, it seemed more interested in the kobold, parting from him after nudging his core with its nose.
[Cre-e-e—]
[Errrrrrr0r: Undefiiiiiiii—]
[Acceeeeep-t-t-t??]
[Yeeee— s s / Nnnnnnn—]
He winced at the intrusion, but the contents detracted from the pain. He couldn’t remember the system ever asking him a question without his explicit intent being involved. It wanted him to…accept something? Was it the system prompting him, or the animal? What was he to accept?
[Creatuuuuu—]
[Acce-e-e-%#@ed!]
…What?
= = = = =
“Hoppit, that's not food!” Ceele admonished half-heartedly, placing a larger branch on the burgeoning flame before she got to her feet. She wasn’t actually that worried; the stone was as big as his head, and she was pretty sure he couldn't bite into it. Hopefully. “Come here, momma has a treat for you!”
The ferrorabbit playfully bumped the gemstone and jumped off the low table, landing with a soft thud that belied how heavy he was for his tiny size. He wiggled in excitement, his ears flailing and releasing a slight clack whenever the two connected. It got even louder when she grabbed her basket and put away the useful herbs, taking out a specific item that she had gathered just for him. The little bun wasted no time in scurrying over and standing tall on his hind legs to judge if the offered plant was to his liking—and it was, based on how he dug in with enthusiasm. She stifled a laugh as she contentedly watched him nibble away on the treat, ignoring the guilt that came with knowing she couldn't afford proper vegetables for him. He had a hard life too, and it tore at her to have so little to give.
She came across Hoppit a year ago, during a storm that worsened while she was travelling between towns. The day had darkened to night in spite of it still being about noon, but the weather didn't care for how bright it was supposed to be. Wind and rain became a typhoon, forcing her to seek shelter in a thankfully abandoned den of what was probably a larger animal. She was fine with waiting out the squall, since the stone roof over her head was more than she usually had back then, but the sounds of dull bangs and thuds near her hideaway was followed by cries of animals yelping in pain. Curiosity won over reason, and she left the safety of her shelter to see what was causing the disturbance. Truthfully, she was hopeful that she'd come across scraps or the like, her hunger driving her forward, and she could always turn back if it seemed dangerous. Yet when she arrived at the source of the commotion, she found herself thinking of anything but food.
Two predators had fought over a small burrow, both trying to dig out a meal and taking offence to the other doing the same. What they didn’t know was that they were assaulting the home of ferrorabbits. Specifically, the home of an angry, protective, and well-fed mother that was keeping her newborns safe from the storm when predators decided to try their luck. From the scene Ceele came across, it was certainly obvious why most people dislike trying to hunt the creatures.
Sadly, the rabbit didn't survive an attack from two predators, but she did make their victory pyrrhic; neither could do much about their hunger with their bodies full of cuts and holes, and it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to blood loss or infection. The mother's sacrifice meant that the babies had avoided the imminent threat, but they were left unattended as a consequence, and it took an opportunistic bird swooping down to shake Ceele out of her shock. Despite her subsequent hurry, she only acted in time to save one of the orphaned young. The warren was new and barely dug out, which meant that it didn’t take much effort for the kits to be found—by both her and hungry maws. All she could do was scoop the ball of fluff into her arms and run back to the cave before anything else tried to eat it.
In retrospect, it was a stupid decision for a number of factors. She barely had the resources to supply herself, and an attempt to raise offspring of any type would only make the inevitable heartbreak worse. But when she saw how quiet and scared he was… How his tiny, shaking body calmed in her arms, those terrified red eyes seeking comfort… She should have just walked away when she knew there wasn’t going to be anything to fill her stomach. She should have put the baby animal down and let nature take its course…yet the preciously furry face stole her heart far too quickly for it to grow so cold. The next day was spent backtracking to the nearest town to get him something suitable to eat, which used most of her meagre savings. Still, it was worth every coin.
Hoppit had been accompanying her ever since. He grew quickly, transitioning from something she saved that stormy night into a presence she had grown to love like a child. The little lagomorph would bounce along beside her during her travels, then ride in her arms as he rested—though the latter happened with worrying frequency as of late. She hadn’t learned much about the springy herbivores, but she knew enough to say that he wasn't as big as he should be, nor was his fur as sharp. No matter how startled he was, his spiky coat never managed to do more than stiffen slightly, which was apparently a side effect of poor diet, according to snippets of conversation she had overheard on the topic. She wanted him to be healthy, but she didn't know what he needed. Not many farmers raised ferrorabbits, and those that did were far away, so she didn’t have anyone to ask what she should be doing. Her best course of action was to give him what little she had.
Ceele was well aware of how he would be better off on his own, but he followed her whenever she tried to set him free. Hoppit just kept launching into her arms and wiggling his ears, ecstatic that he was with her again, uncaring that food was scarce and that they spent most of their days travelling. No amount of cold nights spent bundling up under the tattered blankets she managed to find ever dampened his spirits, and he was content to eat the grass or flowers whenever he felt like it, oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t getting enough nutrition. He would dig and excitedly drag back oddities that he found, and the one time he found a plant that looked particularly good for him, he insisted that it be shared with her.
A black pit still lingered in her chest when she recalled how pleased he was while he munched on the rare vegetable he discovered, then how distressed he became when she wouldn’t have any as well. He bumped and nipped at her, all but begging her to eat. His ears pinned back against his head, his fur bristled in a way she hadn’t seen since. It was only when she took a small bite and let him inspect the new teeth marks that he seemed to calm down, but perhaps she had been looking too deep into the actions of her tiny friend. All she could say for certain was that he was scared she was going hungry.
A morbid thought wondered if his first mother had refused food shortly before being attacked, and he—as small and simple as he was—had connected the two events in his mind, making him absolutely terrified that something would happen if Ceele didn’t have something too. All of that fear, and desperation overwhelmed him, just because she was happier watching him eat. She was determined to erase that issue. She would find something that needed a worker and earn enough to feed them both. One day, she would be able to smile at how big and healthy her little fluffy boy had become, but until then, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think about how she was spending so much time growing vegetables and fruit that he couldn’t have…
Every morning was an exercise in tending to the gardens while actively shoving down images of a pleased ferrorabbit happily eating the results. That never went well; no matter how determined she was to complete her duties without a single selfish thought, most tasks were done while picturing his full belly and delighted bounces. There were a few weeks until the fastest of the crops would be ready for harvest, and Ceele would have to collect them while fighting the urge to bring back just a few for him.
She couldn’t, because she knew exactly how quickly that could escalate. It would start small—A vegetable here, a fruit there—but seeing Hoppit happy was one of the precious few good things she had in her life. Crossing the line would only become easier each time. They couldn’t risk losing their new home over greed, and she was already betraying the trust given to her by housing a wild animal, especially one known to be a pest for crops. She didn't want to know how angry it would make her benefactors if she was caught taking their vegetables for one.
No matter how tame and precious Hoppit was, and no matter how well he listened, they would only see him as the same creature that ruined harvests in droves. Thus was why she had to tell him to stay cooped up by himself while she was working or scavenging. And to her surprise, he did.
Honestly, she had made the initial request with the expectation of needing to carry him back into their home until he understood that she wasn’t leaving him forever. There wasn’t much she could do to stop the ferrorabbit from digging through the old wooden building if he wanted to get out. He wouldn’t need to damage anything either—a rotting board on the door only needed a little push to nudge it out of the way, and his natural curiosity made sure he was aware of it. But no, Hoppit was well-behaved as always, keeping hidden until she walked through the door, where he would leap from the shadows to personally show her how good he was and how he stayed put like she asked him to. It never stopped amazing her that he had such a surprising level of understanding despite being an animal, and that was to say nothing of how young he was.
All that intelligence, joy, and companionship he offered her…and yet the best she could give back to him was the weeds from the garden and the odd plant she found while scavenging…
Soft clacks of flicking ears dragged her from her pondering, her mind returning to the present. Hoppit finished his treat of the small plant, then bounced in place and scurried over to his bowl of water, perfectly happy to have eaten only that. He was so joyful with how little she provided, approaching every day of scarcity with the same enthusiasm she could never muster, as if certain that everything would be alright.
“It’s bedtime, Hoppit,” Ceele announced through a soft sigh, stoking the fire with enough branches to hopefully last the night. The ferrorabbit perked an ear in her direction, then sat on his haunches to extend the rest of himself up, his two little forepaws adorably held to his chest as he inspected the room like he always did. She smiled and made sure everything was stored away, then laid down on her bundle of blankets, covering herself with the warmest one. Hoppit bolted over to snuggle once he decided everything in the shed was up to his standards, throwing himself to the floor in a dramatic flop of comfort. Her quiet laughter subsided as they both settled in for the night, her tail completing the rabbit’s encompassing cuddle, but her eyes fell towards the obsidian orb on the table, her thoughts following suit.
It sat there, just as she left it, as benign as anything else ever placed atop the improvised furnishing. Yet there was a sense of ease and purpose as well. The old wooden trough seemed…important with its adornment firmly laid upon its surface, and she couldn’t puzzle out why. She was starting to doubt her earlier excitement.
Should she sell it? Would anyone know where it came from? Would anyone know what it was, or if it was worth anything? If she could get even a modest sum for it, she would be able to buy clothing, food, and new bedding. It would be easier to convince someone to give her work if she was dressed better and wasn’t so thin, and then she would have the income to slowly improve both of their lives. She could pay for a wandering merchant to ask a ferrorabbit rancher about the animal, even if it would take time to get back to her, or maybe she could hire a local if they needed to go near one for some reason. The cost didn’t matter to her as long as it happened.
But there was something else bothering her about the idea of selling the stone. She had travelled so far with a tug in her chest, only for the feeling of wanderlust to dissipate as soon as she held it. Was that a sign? She was never one for things like ‘fate,’ but a niggling doubt in her mind discouraged the idea of making a profit off her discovery. Even if what she could gain was so very tempting, and even if Hoppit would be happier if she did…
She tore her dampened eyes away and closed them, ignoring the burning trails running across her face. It would be another early morning, and she needed to sleep so she could take care of the garden. Decisions like this could wait. Once she had nothing else distracting her, and she had time to properly think about it, she would see how she felt about the stone.
Eventually, she dozed off with Hoppit pressed against her chest, and a longing in her heart.
Next
—
A/N: Patreon and Ko-fi will be 1 chap ahead this time around, and I've set it so everything from the lowest tier up can read the newest trashfire! Anything above that is sheer show of love. Hope you enjoyed!

LESSON 153. In my defenselessness my safety lies.
You who feel threatened by this changing world, its twists of fortune and its bitter jests, its brief relationships and all the “gifts” it merely lends to take away again; attend this lesson well. The world provides no safety. It is rooted in attack, and all its “gifts” of seeming safety are illusory deceptions. It attacks, and then attacks again. No peace of mind is possible where danger threatens thus. The world gives rise but to defensiveness. For threat brings anger, anger makes attack seem reasonable, honestly provoked, and righteous in the name of self-defense. Yet is defensiveness a double threat. For it attests to weakness, and sets up a system of defense that cannot work. Now are the weak still further undermined, for there is treachery without and still a greater treachery within. The mind is now confused, and knows not where to turn to find escape from its imaginings.
It is as if a circle held it fast, wherein another circle bound it and another one in that, until escape no longer can be hoped for nor obtained. Attack, defense; defense, attack, become the circles of the hours and the days that bind the mind in heavy bands of steel with iron overlaid, returning but to start again. There seems to be no break nor ending in the ever-tightening grip of the imprisonment upon the mind.
Defenses are the costliest of all the prices which the ego would exact. In them lies madness in a form so grim that hope of sanity seems but to be an idle dream, beyond the possible. The sense of threat the world encourages is so much deeper, and so far beyond the frenzy and intensity of which you can conceive, that you have no idea of all the devastation it has wrought.
You are its slave. You know not what you do, in fear of it. You do not understand how much you have been made to sacrifice, who feel its iron grip upon your heart. You do not realize what you have done to sabotage the holy peace of God by your defensiveness. For you behold the Son of God as but a victim to attack by fantasies, by dreams, and by illusions he has made; yet helpless in their presence, needful only of defense by still more fantasies, and dreams by which illusions of his safety comfort him.
Defenselessness is strength. It testifies to recognition of the Christ in you. Perhaps you will recall the text maintains that choice is always made between Christ’s strength and your own weakness, seen apart from Him. Defenselessness can never be attacked, because it recognizes strength so great attack is folly, or a silly game a tired child might play, when he becomes too sleepy to remember what he wants.
Defensiveness is weakness. It proclaims you have denied the Christ and come to fear His Father’s anger. What can save you now from your delusion of an angry god, whose fearful image you believe you see at work in all the evils of the world? What but illusions could defend you now, when it is but illusions that you fight?
We will not play such childish games today. For our true purpose is to save the world, and we would not exchange for foolishness the endless joy our function offers us. We would not let our happiness slip by because a fragment of a senseless dream happened to cross our minds, and we mistook the figures in it for the Son of God; its tiny instant for eternity.
We look past dreams today, and recognize that we need no defense because we are created unassailable, without all thought or wish or dream in which attack has any meaning. Now we cannot fear, for we have left all fearful thoughts behind. And in defenselessness we stand secure, serenely certain of our safety now, sure of salvation; sure we will fulfill our chosen purpose, as our ministry extends its holy blessing through the world.
Be still a moment, and in silence think how holy is your purpose, how secure you rest, untouchable within its light. God’s ministers have chosen that the truth be with them. Who is holier than they? Who could be surer that his happiness is fully guaranteed? And who could be more mightily protected? What defense could possibly be needed by the ones who are among the chosen ones of God, by His election and their own as well?
It is the function of God’s ministers to help their brothers choose as they have done. God has elected all, but few have come to realize His Will is but their own. And while you fail to teach what you have learned, salvation waits and darkness holds the world in grim imprisonment. Nor will you learn that light has come to you, and your escape has been accomplished. For you will not see the light, until you offer it to all your brothers. As they take it from your hands, so will you recognize it as your own.
Salvation can be thought of as a game that happy children play. It was designed by One Who loves His children, and Who would replace their fearful toys with joyous games, which teach them that the game of fear is gone. His game instructs in happiness because there is no loser. Everyone who plays must win, and in his winning is the gain to everyone ensured. The game of fear is gladly laid aside, when children come to see the benefits salvation brings.
You who have played that you are lost to hope, abandoned by your Father, left alone in terror in a fearful world made mad by sin and guilt; be happy now. That game is over. Now a quiet time has come, in which we put away the toys of guilt, and lock our quaint and childish thoughts of sin forever from the pure and holy minds of Heaven’s children and the Son of God.
We pause but for a moment more, to play our final, happy game upon this earth. And then we go to take our rightful place where truth abides and games are meaningless. So is the story ended. Let this day bring the last chapter closer to the world, that everyone may learn the tale he reads of terrifying destiny, defeat of all his hopes, his pitiful defense against a vengeance he can not escape, is but his own deluded fantasy. God’s ministers have come to waken him from the dark dreams this story has evoked in his confused, bewildered memory of this distorted tale. God’s Son can smile at last, on learning that it is not true.
Today we practice in a form we will maintain for quite a while. We will begin each day by giving our attention to the daily thought as long as possible. Five minutes now becomes the least we give to preparation for a day in which salvation is the only goal we have. Ten would be better; fifteen better still. And as distraction ceases to arise to turn us from our purpose, we will find that half an hour is too short a time to spend with God. Nor will we willingly give less at night, in gratitude and joy.
Each hour adds to our increasing peace, as we remember to be faithful to the Will we share with God. At times, perhaps, a minute, even less, will be the most that we can offer as the hour strikes. Sometimes we will forget. At other times the business of the world will close on us, and we will be unable to withdraw a little while, and turn our thoughts to God.
Yet when we can, we will observe our trust as ministers of God, in hourly remembrance of our mission and His Love. And we will quietly sit by and wait on Him and listen to His Voice, and learn what He would have us do the hour that is yet to come; while thanking Him for all the gifts He gave us in the one gone by.
In time, with practice, you will never cease to think of Him, and hear His loving Voice guiding your footsteps into quiet ways, where you will walk in true defenselessness. For you will know that Heaven goes with you. Nor would you keep your mind away from Him a moment, even though your time is spent in offering salvation to the world. Think you He will not make this possible, for you who chose to carry out His plan for the salvation of the world and yours?
Today our theme is our defenselessness. We clothe ourselves in it, as we prepare to meet the day. We rise up strong in Christ, and let our weakness disappear, as we remember that His strength abides in us. We will remind ourselves that He remains beside us through the day, and never leaves our weakness unsupported by His strength. We call upon His strength each time we feel the threat of our defenses undermine our certainty of purpose. We will pause a moment, as He tells us, “I am here.”
Your practicing will now begin to take the earnestness of love, to help you keep your mind from wandering from its intent. Be not afraid nor timid. There can be no doubt that you will reach your final goal. The ministers of God can never fail, because the love and strength and peace that shine from them to all their brothers come from Him. These are His gifts to you. Defenselessness is all you need to give Him in return. You lay aside but what was never real, to look on Christ and see His sinlessness.

Am I the asshole for leaving the family group chat? My (33) younger sister (J 24) recently eloped. J and her now husband have been together close to three years, and have been engaged since shortly after finding out she was pregnant (my nephew is now 2) When the two first got engaged, J asked me to be her MOH. I was extremely happy and excited for her and looking forward to helping her plan the wedding and other events associated with a wedding (bridal shower, ect). A few weeks ago I woke up to several notifications on my phone from the family group chat. Opening the chat up and scrolling up, I get to a group of photos. One snapchat photo above the group photos of J and her new husband standing in front of the preacher in the church that said “SURPRISE” was all the information I needed. J had eloped. And our mother was present. My initial reaction was a tornado of emotions; on the one hand I was happy for my sister and new brother in law! Glad they were finally able to accomplish a goal of theirs. On the other hand, I was sad and hurt. I was hurt for a couple reason; 1) as mentioned, J had asked me to be her MOH when they first got engaged and I was very much looking forward to helping her with all of that. Thinking that process would be a great bonding experience for us and bring us closer together. Second (the big reason) I was left out. This brought up issues from my childhood. For some context, my mother, sister and I are not exactly close. My mother got pregnant at 13, had me via cesarean at 14, and by the time she was in a stable situation of her own, I had been raised by my grandparents and considered them to be my parents. I would always go and stay the weekends with my mother, when I was younger I stayed most of the summer with her. She had my sister J when I was nine. Growing up I always held a bit of animosity towards J because of the fact that she got to be raised by both her biological parents while I was raised by my grandparents (who are amazing parents! Don’t get me wrong, it’s just that teenage minds don’t take things like that into consideration whenever their so focused on the negative). But the big thing that impacted me as a kid regarding my mother and sister was what happened whenever my mom and stepdad took in my stepdad’s nephew for several years (I believe they had him as an infant until he was about three or five). During the time that they were raising this little boy, my mother had arranged for ‘family’ photos to be taken. Now, I talked to my grandparents about this after the fact and TO THIS DAY they say that my mother never mentioned this to them. I didn’t find out about the photos until we got to the department store where they were being taken. I said something to my mother along the lines of ‘mom, why didn’t you tell me we were taking pictures today? I would have brought nice clothes and done something with my hair.’ To which my mother responded something along the lines of ‘I told your grandparents what I was planning today.’ Me: ‘well, why didn’t you say something last night? I would have worn something different and looked nice’ mom: ‘it’s no big deal, I had planned on the pictures just being the three of us today anyway (mom, J, and the little boy), we’ll have pictures taken another time’ (we never did). So I proceeded to stand off to the side while my mother, sister and this little boy took ‘family’ photos. I tell you this to help you understand the ‘childhood issues’ I mentioned. So, I was trying to sort through a LOT of emotions at the time. My main thing was (and still is) the fact that my mother and sister had no consideration for me at all. They didn’t think to try to tell me. It’s things like this, and the ‘family photo’ from when I was a child that make me feel like they don’t see me as family, and that’s what hurts the most. I don’t mean to sound selfish, that’s not my intention, I just want to be given the basic common courtesy I’ve always thought was basically given between family members, especially mothers and sisters. At this time, one of my uncles (R) was in the group chat stirring the pot. R was insinuating that he and his fiancé had been in attendance during the ceremony. My other uncle (T) was going along with this as a joke. (T recently lost his wife). While I understood that R and T were joking, not being serious (R trying to lighten the mood due to T’s recent loss) I simply was not in the right head space to sit there and listen (or rather ‘read’ I suppose) their little back and forth banter. I didn’t want to accidently say something in my emotional state that would make things worse. So I made the decision to leave the group chat. I had every intention of having someone add me back a day or so later once the hurt wasn’t as raw and I had a better handle on my emotions. The next day, my mother called to inform me that I didn’t need to be upset over what had happened as I was not the only person that hadn’t been told of the ceremony. She informed me that the only reason she had been there was because it was on a Saturday, and she babysits for them on Saturdays.

I was stumbling home drunk after a night of drinking with my friends, when I saw a group of people huddled around something.
Curiosity got the better of me and I moved towards them to see what they found so interesting.
It was a strange circular contraption showing a video of some random people. I decided it would be funny to give them the middle finger and almost jumped out of my skin when one of them did the same to me.
Someone beside me explained that it is a live stream between Ireland and America. I snorted in derision as it seemed like such a waste of money.
An idea popped into my head and I moved forward until I was inches away from the portal and slowly began reciting “bloody Mary” three times.
I turned around to see if anyone had heard me and felt the blood drain from my face. The eyes of the people all around me had rolled back into their skulls leaving only the white visible.
Their bodies were shaking as blood began oozing from nostrils. I looked towards the portal to see it was happening to them as well. One woman had been clutching her baby which now lay on the ground with its head crushed in.
The people around me suddenly stopped shaking and their mouths curled up into grotesque smiles. I considered fleeing but they converged towards me blocking all escape routes.
I kept backing away as they herded me towards the portal. They were leaving a bloody path behind them as they ripped their teeth from their mouths before discarding them on the ground.
My back collided with the portal and I almost screamed as I felt hands reach out and began dragging me backwards. I began kicking and swinging my arms but it was of no use as they were too strong.
Within seconds only my head was still outside of the portal. The rest of my body was in agony as it felt like millions of mouths were biting into my flesh.
I watched on in horror as one of the people in front of me leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth. I began quietly sobbing as their tongue slid into my mouth and began caressing my tonsils.
They lurched away as I vomited up the contents of my stomach. I began to scream as my head was forcefully pulled into the portal before I blacked out from the pain.
I awoke some time later to find myself in between two glowing portals. The world around me was grey and I couldn't see further than 2 feet in any direction.
My eyes darted from side to side as I could hear movement all around me. Something darted behind me and I caught a momentary glimpse of its scaly body before it disappeared into the darkness.
I stood there unsure of what I should do when a tentacle shot forward and wrapped around my leg. It began dragging me towards a giant mouth that had emerge from the darkness. It was lined with thousands of razor sharp teeth that were moving as if they were lawnmower blades.
I lashed out with my foot and managed to dislodge the tentacles grip. I pushed myself to my feet and staggered towards the portals. I took a peek over my shoulder to see hundreds of tentacles flying through the air.
I could feel the tentacles rubbing against my flesh as I jumped forward and collided with the nearest portal. The air was knocked from my body and I lay on the ground struggling to breathe.
I looked up to see a group of bystanders looking at me in confusion. I stared down at my bloodsoaked clothes and knew they wouldn't believe me even if I tried.
I began wishing that I had brought my passport out with me last night, as I pushed myself to my feet and hobbled off to locate the Irish embassy.

In the 19, nearly 20, years I have lived my life, I was raised a Christian by American conservatives in a middle class environment and am fortunate to experience countless memories of joy, laughter, and growth with (mostly) everybody I have met. Each memory with the people in my life holds a special place in my heart, and I will forever cherish the bond we built.
The thing is that until the end of eighth grade, I had a strange obsession with East Asia. Looking back, it was very embarrassing and I condemn my parents for enabling me to become a weeaboo (by “weeaboo”, I mean “a person who is overly obsessed with East Asian culture, especially Japanese culture, to the point that they fetishize the culture in an unhealthy way”). I was the textbook example of a weeaboo who had a terrible case of “yellow fever” (sexual preference towards East Asians). Loving the image of East Asian culture without having any real idea what it stood for and seeing the East as a utopia, my fetishization of East Asia, especially Japan, was born out of the shame I have with the Western culture I was raised in. I never felt like I could fit in with my Western peers who I often looked down upon and did not want to be associated with. It got to the point that I became unsatisfied with my home town, my physical appearance, and even my closest friends. This combined with the surge in anime, K-pop, and other media on the internet really got me hooked and believing really fetish-y things about the Sinosphere. I hate being reminded of it and have tried to move on.
However, I am thankful for my exposure to Eastern culture, though it was through a very bastardized, Westernized lens. I am grateful for my exposure, even though it started out with something as intellectually undemanding as Vocaloid music (songs sung by a Japanese voice synthesizer). The best part about the exposure was that it helped me leave Christianity and join Buddhism at age 11, which greatly helped with my mental health considering I was experiencing suicidal thoughts since the age of 8. Though I had awful misunderstandings of Buddhism in the beginning and still do not really have a Buddhist teacher, I am glad that I have the resources to connect myself with other Buddhists and take refuge in the Triple Gem.
As I left my gross misconceptions of the Sinosphere behind back when I was 14 while still having a healthy interest in it, my eyes were eventually opened to perils which threaten not only the homelands of Buddhism (East, South, and Southeast Asia), but also the sustainability of modern humans. These two perils are Western culture and capitalist fascism.
The West exoticizes and misrepresents Buddhism and the culture of its home, the East, as a whole. I am ashamed to be born in a culture where this was encouraged, which I am worried could lead me to fetishizing Eastern culture again.
But what I know for sure is that the West’s hyperindividualism is harming people, both those whose lands are invaded and its own people. This combined with the West’s growing rejection of education, including that of the knowledge the West itself has given to the world for humanity’s benefit, makes it clear that it is lacking some of the Sinosphere’s cultural strengths. Everybody should hold collectivism and education to the same degree that the Sinosphere does, otherwise we would be left with an unsustainable society that would destroy itself.
There is nothing wrong with speaking Western languages, eating Western foods, watching (most types of) Western media, wearing Western clothes, and especially nothing wrong with using Western inventions, but we are now seeing that the West’s hyperindividualism and rejection of education is destructive and spreading like a cancer.
It is only Buddhists who make an effort to assimilate to the East (had they not been born into it) who can see the West with its hyperindividualism and uneducatedness, promoted by its creation of its spreading ideologies such as capitalist fascism and social Darwinism, for what it really is: a cancer. I can now see the direction the United States, the most populated and powerful country in the West, is going due to the rise of ultra-capitalism and/or fascism supporters.
Rarely the phrase “Western”, as in “formed by the combined foundations of Greco-Roman civilization and Western Christianity” (Gabbe), raised positive thoughts in my mind since I learned about it shortly after discovering Buddhism. “Western” when used in the context of medicine is an exception to this, but we are now seeing more and more Westerners dishonor the progress their ancestors made towards modern, mainstream, dare I say, Western medicine as they fall for anti-vaccine and anti-mask pseudoscience.
Nowadays, some who use the word in a derogatory context are uneducated reactionaries that bash anything and everything Western, yet hypocritically promote the Western political ideology of fascism. A strength that a majority (though now a decreasing number) of Western countries have is their progressivism, supporting scientific advancements, women’s rights, racial equality, and the LGBT+. However, this is not just becoming less common; being a progressive Westerner is not enough, not enough to end Western imperialism, to save the sacred truths taught to us by the Shakyamuni Buddha, or to empower the working class.
Although I never fully approved of Western culture after my weeaboo phase ended, my early teen self still ended up falling into the anti-social justice warrior side of YouTube that I now recognized hindered my understanding of what actually ruined my country, the United States of America. I still did not feel comfortable calling myself a Westerner but mainly because the West did not widely accept Buddhism and has several times in its history persecuted Buddhists. At the same time, I was deceived by a bastardized form of Buddhism common among Westerners (known as “secular Buddhism”, which picks and chooses aspects of the Buddha’s teachings instead of accepting them as a whole), so I was a bit more of the classic, stereotypical atheist neckbeard who fetishized the East up until 2020. Since then, my views became more progressive similar to those of American liberals and I denounced traditionalist Western beliefs, but like the average American liberal, I did not see Western culture, both traditional and progressive, as the peril I now see it. It was not until around the end of 2023 when I discovered the Western problem.
It was a slow burn that started with my discovery of Buddhists on the internet talking about how the West misrepresented Buddhism to appeal to “self-help” consumerists, Christians, and New Age followers. In the Westerner, I originally saw only a person who followed harmless customs, traditions, and other norms that came from a part of the world where Buddhism was not the dominant religion (if you could even call the non-theistic dharma as taught by the Gautama Buddha a religion). And so, I did not believe that Western civilization needed to fall for the safety of the dharma, let alone for its own people. After all, I thought to myself, the West has contributed so much to science and the modern world as we know it. I still believe to this day that there are no superior cultures and that each one simply has its own unique strengths and weaknesses, some of which are only subjective. However, while looking through Buddhist forums, I was shocked to hear about the West’s pollution of Buddhism and my knowledge on Buddhism skyrocketed as I learned that I fell victim to the Dunning-Kruger effect. I started reading sutras and immersing myself with Buddhism by listening to those who have much more experience than I do. There are hardly any Buddhists in my community and the only Buddhist center within reach is a New Kadampa Tradition meditation center (FYI: the New Kadampa Tradition must be avoided since it has a reputation for financially exploiting members and its monastics have allegations of drug trafficking and sexual abuse), so books and the internet are all I have left.
Practicing Buddhism in the West is nearly impossible without a community, without a Buddhist teacher, without any resources written by Eastern Buddhists. Reddit user u/Tendai-Student, a “lay Tendai Student [sic] with aspirations to become a Priest [sic]” states the following:
It is exceedingly challenging for a Westerner who is interested in Buddhism to find reliable information. Bookstores' Buddhist sections are rife with myths about the religion (we will come to some of these misconceptions below). Buddhism-related disinformation abounds in university classes. Misinformation about Buddhism abounds in publications with a Buddhist theme. Even Buddhism-related english-speaking [sic] Reddit boards are prone to carry false information.
Buddhism is constantly distorted in the same way: to make it more agreeable to Abrahamic faiths(especially Christianity in the west) [sic]. To imply that it is subject to Western standards, Western religion, and Western consumerism and materialism.
…Asian teachers are frequently excluded from English-speaking Buddhist places (meditation centers, university forums, periodicals). Asians make up the majority of Buddhists in the United States, despite the fact that popular images of Buddhism in the West make it appear otherwise. In the minds of Westerners, Buddhism is a religion of white converts. They don't even pay attention to the odd lack of Asians in some Buddhist areas. (u/Tendai-Student)
It is no wonder that I went through a phase when I was a weeaboo with “yellow fever”. The Westerner commodifies and commercializes these Buddhist practices and East Asian customs like they do with several other cultures. Its misuse and stealing of Buddhism is the worst because its teachings are for us to end suffering by ridding ourselves of the three poisons: greed, ignorance, and hatred (which the Westerner promotes).
My realization of this drew me away from the West, similar to when my obsession with the East began. The difference is that my interest in the East now is not because of a fantasy born out of misguidance, especially not a sexual one. I now know that there is more to the East than its pop culture. But I cannot help thinking that none of this would have happened and I would better understand Buddhism had I been born to and raised by Buddhists in East Asia, or even a majority Buddhist country in South or Southeast Asia.
However, the possibility of a cycle starting with a yo-yoing fetishization of the East makes me anxious. When I realized what I was doing at first was fetishization, I did further research and found out that the West is to blame for its portrayal of the East in its media. This in turn makes me denounce the West and brings me back towards my obsession with the Sinosphere, which could lead to more fetishization.
Despite this, I am glad that at the very least, my interest is more than just wanting to live a kawaii lifestyle, hoping to have a “submissive housewife who will look young forever”, or all that neckbeard squick. I do have to say that there is something else that is drawing me towards the Sinosphere, not to mention that it is the region where Buddhism is dominant (the same is true to a lesser extent with the Indosphere). Even though I am not a huge fan of tradition since I am very progressive, when a region’s culture gets something right, they get it right. In addition to Buddhist values, the Sinosphere holds education and collectivism to a high degree. It is no wonder I find their people so much more intelligent and caring than people from my culture.
It is common knowledge that countries such as Japan, China, South Korea, and Singapore have the highest average IQs. To add to this (unbeknownst to many), even less developed countries, e.g. Mongolia, with high Buddhist populations around the same region, have average IQs higher than developing and undeveloped nations outside the region. The most agreed upon reason for this is cultural factors rather than genetic or economic factors. To conclude, Buddhism combined with values in the East Asian cultural sphere creates the best “brains” to represent humanity, thus the West should make way for them, especially considering the East’s superior collectivism.
Of course cultures do not stay the same forever because they change over time. One big thing that is different now in the Sinosphere and Indosphere (the latter I am mentioning because it is where Buddhism came from, though it is not as dominant in the cultural region as it was) is that they are generally much more patriarchal and anti-LGBT+ than they were up until the last several centuries. However, Buddhism treats same-sex relations and being transgender the same as heterosexuality and being cisgender (preferring celibacy among monastics, though depending on the school of Buddhism, those in the monastic order may be treated as their birth gender, even if they are transgender), and in addition, the Buddha taught that women are just as capable of attaining enlightenment as men. Even outside of Buddhism, there are records of same-sex relations as early as the Shang dynasty in China and the temple walls in Khajuraho, India depict homosexual activity. As for feminism, China was matrilineal until the Han dynasty era, when Confucianism and filial piety became mainstream in the area, while India, home to over 100 different ethnic communities, has had a few matriarchal and egalitarian societies pre-European colonization. In the modern era, numerous people in the two cultural spheres are becoming more supportive of gender equality and the LGBT+, which in some cases may be due to Westernization (not that it redeems it) or simply the individuals’ progressive political views not influenced by Western culture.
What has stayed the same for the most part, besides Buddhism, is the Sinosphere’s and Indosphere’s value of collectivism in honor-shame societies and the former cultural sphere’s emphasis on education; this is what Westerners, as well as people all over the world, need for themselves. If the West is going to fall due to hyperconsumerism, late stage capitalism, and uneducated leaders, those living in the West would be better off joining Buddhism and assimilating to the East. Arguably, the best way to do this is to move to a majority Buddhist country, preferably one in the Sinosphere (its core countries being China, Japan, the Koreas, Taiwan, and Vietnam). Leave everybody you know from your home behind, especially non-Buddhists. Just to make things clear, Westerners are not necessarily evil and it is not their fault they were raised in a Western culture, but having these people in your life will hold you back from collectivism, quality education free of anti-intellectual quackery, and above all, understanding the dharma.
After you have left everybody in your life and started anew, you can immerse yourself in the culture. Again, abandoning Western food, media, clothing, and especially inventions and scientific breakthroughs is very unnecessary. Your main focus is reprogramming your mind to think like a person (specifically a Buddhist person) in the Sinosphere/Indosphere, utilizing the high educational standards, putting the collective over the individual, and taking refuge in the Triple Gem. Before moving, though, it is best to make yourself familiar with the customs and learn the language of the place you are moving to. To aid your assimilation, it would not hurt to start dating one of the locals who strongly identifies with the culture, regardless of their race. Someone living there who is not ethnically East, South, or Southeast Asian who is still very involved in the culture would be very helpful to your assimilation as one who is ethnically East, South, or Southeast Asian (I am clarifying this to discourage racial fetishization). This may be difficult as you would have to win over approval from their parents, let alone convince them to see you as another Easterner, but if you manage to do so, that would be fantastic. To make things easier, you could plan to move to a country where people treat women as equals and are relatively accepting of the LGBT+ so you would not have to worry about gender roles or whatever. Think of places in the Sinosphere such as Singapore, Taiwan, Japan, Hong Kong, or if you are planning on going to the Indosphere (which is not too big of a step down) since they did give us Buddhism after all, Nepal and Thailand. Your most important goal, however, is to rewire your brain to think in a more Sinic or Indic way and be more in touch with Buddhism.
You can hardly consider yourself a Westerner if you manage to do so, being Western only in your country of origin (and possibly race as well). I am definitely not like those other “people” from the West who strongly cling to Western culture because they just do not understand. Western cultural merit is almost solely from the proxy of our ancestors’ inventions, scientific discoveries, and political revolutions. Considering that the West is being brought towards the wrong direction in the modern era, we should get out of there culturally, if not physically, until it all hits the fan.
If the West continues its defilement of the rest of the world, when it falls, it will bring it all down with it. We must not lose or else everybody loses.
This pressure has a good side; because the bigger the great threat becomes, the more we will push ourselves to assimilate and raise children to fight for us. Considering the infectability of Western anti-intellectualism and “main character syndrome”, how could our Western peers know better? Buddhism is not a proselytizing “religion”, so our best bet is eliminating the promoter of the three poisons, the Westerner (especially the Christian Westerner), from our own lives. How it will run to us as its society collapses under itself and we welcome it to assimilate but say “we told you so”! The older I get, the better I know the Westerner. The better I know the Westerner, the easier it gets to excuse hostility against them, especially from the Sinosphere.
From my perspective, the ones to blame are not the angry, low-middle class white males in the rural United States nor the boba conservative bananas and right-wing coconuts who suck up to the West’s biggest scum, but rather the ones who have brainwashed them to fall for chauvinism, reactionarism, and laissez faire capitalism.
Realizing this, I am now closely investigating the sources of these beliefs which make up the foundation of social Darwinism and, when combined with totalitarian thinking, capitalist fascism. This is after I noticed that these systems are unsustainable and would destroy themselves from the inside out. The slow, painful destruction of communities who fall victim to them are well known to me. If one looks carefully, they can see the consequences that have been unfolding since the 2020 Coronavirus Pandemic. You may wonder: were the founders aware of this? My guess would be that they were not but were evil nonetheless because they were too selfish to think about the future, their descendants.
If this is the case, then it is the duty of us, the opponents of these ideologies, to spread the word faster than the ideologies are currently spreading in the West. It is hard for me to believe it is not the case considering that both Western political ideologies are fundamentally reactionary. Besides, I doubt they would want civilization as we know it to collapse.
I have a social Darwinist as a maternal uncle who sometimes meets with my parents, maternal grandfather, and younger brother and with his political conversations, often sourced from flawed studies, Russian news, and 4chan, I can easily study the principles of its theories. Both of my parents are also conservatives who support Trump and other immoral American politicians. Being raised by the two of them, I bet I could disguise myself as a Western right-wing traditionalist, maybe even a social Darwinist, since I know the way they speak, to whom they flock to, and how to make them give one their full attention. It would probably be easy to do this as some right-wing grifters can fool American right-wing audiences into thinking that they share the same beliefs (e.g. Thomas MacDonald).
Their kind are gullible because they do not listen to fact checkers and often do not do research to see if who they are listening to really practices what they preach.
Even though there are Westerners who are not like this, the West cannot coexist with Buddhism, let alone the cultures where it is dominant, as the West ruled by colonizing tirthikas and it will likely always be for as long as it lasts. And just because their culture is not as viable as the one founded on Buddhist, Sinic, or even Indic values does not give them the right to imperialize the rest of the world and bring it down with them. We can welcome the Westerner willing to change its ways, turn it into one of an Easterner, and have its culture go through a quick and painless demise, or the Westerner can continue its power trip, destroy everything it touches along with itself, and society will suffer a slow and painful death. This is what the conclusion that I have come to so far as I examine capitalist fascism and Westerners’ connection to it.
The Western doctrine of capitalist fascism rejects an aspect of maitrī, fulfilling beings’ basic needs, and substitutes it for a privilege towards the bourgeoisie and the exploitation of the workers’ labor (also known as Vergegenständlichung or “objectification”). Thus it denies the worth of the collective, only concerns itself with greedy individuals, and thus is immoral. Unlike what the non-Buddhist capitalist wants people to believe, all beings have an altruistic Buddha nature, but it is corrupted, being difficult to notice as it has only conditions without a beginning (listed in the Avijjā Sutta). Abandoning capitalism, both fascist and non-fascist, gives power to the people as it ensures a more guaranteed right to life instead of having not even one thousand billionaires own more than half of Earth’s population combined, more than each one of those billionaires could ever spend in their lifetimes.
Should the Westerner, especially one who pushes capitalist fascism, strengthen its grip on humanity, it can be said that it would make its own naraka.
And so I stand by my plan and encourage others to do the same because it is in the name of the Unsurpassable Enlightened One. By protecting our kind against the Westerner, we are defending the Triple Gem.
If it is not already clear, the disapproval I feel towards the societal values and prevailing norms of the West has led me to question my place in this environment. I believe that meaningful change can only be fostered if the West is put into its place and the Sino-Buddhist East motivates our minds.
In Vietnam, where the culture is predominantly Sinic with some Indic aspects and little European influence, we can see the promotion of quality education, collectivism, and Buddhism (practiced by a forgivable 15% of the population), very unlike the nearby country of the Philippines. In the Philippines, its citizens cling to the Anglo-Saxon and Hispanic culture brought to the country by American and Spaniard imperialists. The effects of this are very clear in their average IQs (Vietnam: 89.53 vs. Philippines: 81.64) and PISA scores (Vietnam: 1403 vs. Philippines: 1058). They are both developing countries in Southeast Asia that were colonized by the West, but because Vietnam kept its culture more pure and stuck to Buddhism (or at least Sinic philosophies), its people are better educated compared to the nearby Westernized countries in a similar economic situation.
In short, Westernization leads to the following:

1. The native culture becomes diluted
2. If Western thinking intrudes, mental degeneration takes hold of the native population and its society slowly degrades along with the West itself as it eats itself from the inside out

Those who cause this to happen must be stopped, especially those who endanger Buddhism. We must not wait for the fruition of their karma for their sacrilege of the Tathagata’s teachings because by then it would be too late, and even if it is instant karma, every bodhisattva’s job is to end suffering.
Those who spread the harmful ideologies bring themselves and others away from the Buddha’s word are polluting humanity by having them join their rat race that will only end in their own demise. They are leading to the ruin of many and thus, I do not consider them to be human but instead parasites.
There is a disgraceful Western belief that for a short amount of time was not held by the majority but is now very pervasive in the West and also is the foundation of reactionarism, chauvinism, and capitalism in all cultures. It says: “My individual rights matter the most and freedom means my right to violate the rights of others.”
This Western babble is followed by numerous all around the world and sows disharmony in societies where it becomes the norm. This idea provides basis for several types of Westerners, including but not limited to:

• the “Karen”; a middle-aged, entitled, often white and anti-mask/anti-vaccine female who makes trivial complaints
• the “Chud”; a racist, misogynistic, right-wing male (usually young) who browses 4chan everyday and has a high likelihood of becoming a mass shooter
• the dayangma (Hanzi: 大洋马); a sex-obsessed young adult Western female, majority white but sometimes POC, is conventionally attractive (to Westerners), sleeps around, and in some cases creates spawn that do not know their father(s)
• the angry white male; self-explanatory, right-wing and traditionalist (sometimes a social Darwnist or capitalist fascist), commonly rural, evangelical Christian and have never seen a POC before
• the “Trad Wife”; a prudish, sometimes uneducated, female who lets Western males walk all over it and raises spawn who are likely to become angry whites
• the New Agehippy; generally a teenager or young adult, a well-meaning but poorly educated white liberal or social democrat who misappropriates Buddhism and appeases Muslims
• the AmeriKKKan fathegrandfather; a middle-aged to elderly, chauvinist male with children, sometimes also grandchildren, and is unconcerned about social justice and similarly to the “Karen”, falls for pseudoscientific conspiracy theories
• the neckbearded otaku (Hiragana: おたく); a hairy white male with “yellow fever” and mediocre hygiene, for the most part subreddit/Discord server moderators who stalk and kidnap East Asian ladies (if not teenage girls)

The growth of these groups is evidence of the degradation of Western culture, showing that it must retire as the dominant culture and make way for the much more sustainable East. Once the manuṣya realm on Earth is completely tainted by the West, Buddhas can no longer arise in the world because the dharma would be known by nobody and the Vinaya are forgotten or destroyed.
The future generation will not remember the dharma unless we halt the growth of the parasitic culture that promotes overconsumption, hyperindividualism, and anti-intellectualism.
The Westerner has a remarkable contrast to the Sinic or Indic. The Westerner has a grasp on this world so strong with its weaponry since the 16th century, using force to disrupt the traditional lives of whatever native people it saw, safe for those in a few countries (even though some of those countries are still being Westernized). The Dutch, English, French, Portuguese, and Spanish built colonies from the Americas to Southeast Asia. The kingdoms were blessed with powerful militaries, strong economies, stable governments, and advanced technology that allowed their cultures to spread. But after half a millennium and looking back, was any of this really earned? And is the Westerner’s conquest over yet?
Since the Great Schism of Christianity, the Westerner trained itself for roughly one thousand years. It trained itself in several aspects, but it forgot an important piece, the dharma. The cunning Westerner, blessed with advancements, used them to tyrannize other peoples on a scale never before seen. This was the beginning of the Latter Day of the Dharma. The dharma is declining because of the savage Westerner. And so, it leeched off of any people it got a hold of, including predominantly Buddhist peoples. Even during the decolonization of the 20th century, fundamentalist Christianity spread and threatened the dharma. To make matters worse, previously Buddhist peoples clung to Christianity as taught by their colonizers; the French in Vietnam and the Spanish and Americans in the Philippines. To this day, the Philippines is a lost cause along with its majority Muslim neighbors in Maritime Southeast Asia. The cunning Westerner turned the Filipino against us and now Buddhists make up only 2% of the Philippines’ population. Now, the Westerner sees Buddhism as nothing more than an aesthetic, a self-help lifestyle, or a decoration that they can commercialize and cherry pick aspects to integrate into their religion or lack thereof.
It is excellent for someone from the West to learn the dharma as this will turn them into a more compassionate and wise person, but they must not enforce the Western gaze onto it and discard parts of the Shakyamuni Buddha’s words they do not like. To be fair, some aspects of Buddhism would be nearly impossible for a Westerner to understand unless they assimilate.
Buddhism is not materialist or blind belief without evidence and it belongs to the East, so stop pretending to be something you are not while pushing stereotypes of Asian Buddhists.
However, even though Buddhism is not materialist or very in line with the Western worldview, it is uniquely human. Walpola Rahula, a Sri Lankan Buddhist monk and writer explains it this way:
Among the founders of religions the Buddha (if we are permitted to call him the founder of a religion in the popular sense of the term) was the only teacher who did not claim to be other than a human being, pure and simple. Other teachers were either God, or his incarnations in different forms, or inspired by him. The Buddha was not only a human being; he claimed no inspiration from any god or external power either. He attributed all his realization, attainments and achievements to human endeavour and human intelligence. A man and only a man can become Buddha. Every man has within himself the potentiality of becoming a Buddha, if he so wills it and endeavours. We can call the Buddha a man par excellence. He was so perfect in his 'human-ness' that he came to be regarded later in popular religion almost as 'super-human'. Man's position, according to Buddhism, is supreme. Man is his own master, and there is no higher being or power that sits in judgment over his destiny. (Rahula 3)
How could one even consider the Westerners who diluted Buddhism human themselves at this point? If it were not for them, Westerners may have a better understanding of the teachings of the “man par excellence”. We are lucky that the only Westerners who necessarily see us as inferior are white nationalists and fundamentalist Christians, otherwise the Westerner could have committed a genocide that would have left millions of us dead. Westerners are competitive beings, so they rarely act in concord towards each other. It is only when there is something that draws them together or away from a common danger.
If everybody on Earth becomes a Westerner, they would wallow in their shamelessness and would have nobody left to exploit except for each other until they destroy themselves.
Until they are the only ones left, they will vilify and exploit anything non-Western until they only have each other, then leading to a chaotic world of undignified militaries, economic inequality, corrupt governments, and little or no innovations.
Unless the Westerner considers even the slightest of inspiration from the East, it will continue to follow hyperindividualism and have apathy towards its education. That is why the West is falling. Those from the West who are smart enough to realize that the West’s flaws that it spreads are deciding that the West is not worth maintaining and its resignation is overdue. If those from the West abandon it to assimilate to the East, it would make the West’s death quicker but more dignified.
This is more than a fad but rather the realization that Western society would be best being a passing fad itself. The West gave us great inventions, food, clothes, scientific discoveries, etc. and once it is gone, the East can pick up where it left off just fine.
We will never abandon the Triple Gem because we recognize it to be more than a spiritual, exotic aesthetic or trend. To do so would make us just like those others in the West who Asian Buddhists look down upon. When the time is right, each and every one of us will surround ourselves with the people who know the dharma better than anyone you have met in the West and we can finally be at their level. We shall be Western only in our country of origin and/or race, but in every other way, we will be Easterners; Buddhist Easterners who will take back what rightfully belongs to us.
When we (and hopefully Buddhists outside of both the Eastern and the Western world) do this, consumerism will lose some of its biggest prey. Even though it may not seem like it at first considering we are abandoning everyone we have ever known, we are doing our ancestors a favor by joining the culture that strives towards the end of suffering. We will be leaving our cultures’ ways of thinking behind, but doing this will save face for our lineage, especially the Western lineage as we would be preventing the creation of more “Karens”, “Chuds”, dayangmas, “neckbeards”, and other degenerates. We will not be annoying dorky nerds and certainly not “neckbeards” who are overly obsessed with and fetishize the culture but people making an effort to get closer to the dharma and surrender to the East.
Although we are collectivists, we must seek personal liberation first for the good of other beings. Once the West collapses and its former supporters come running to us, we shall welcome them. If some do not recognize this before it is too late, well boo hoo! They will have a better birth with the world we will create. Some of them, especially their unlucky spawn, would probably be better off dead and reborn into a better life, maybe even the Pure Land.
The way it is looking now, the West is falling and becoming the world’s laughingstock, which is a good thing. The quicker it falls, the less painful it will be for the Westerner and everybody else. Western culture will not be missed, but we can keep the best of it and continue the innovations that the creators would wish to see. We will remember the legacy of them and be thankful while never forgiving or forgetting the ones who ruined the West.
Works Cited
“Ignorance Avijjā Sutta (AN 10:61).” Translated by Ṭhānissaro Bhikkhu. Dhammatalks. 2017, https://www.dhammatalks.org/suttas/AN/AN10_61.html. Accessed 31 May 2024.
Gabbe. “Western Culture.” Wikipedia. 25 May 2024. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Western_culture#:~:text=The%20core%20of%20Western%20civilization,Roman%20civilization%20and%20Western%20Christianity. Accessed 31 May 2024.
Rahula Thero, Walpola. What the Buddha Taught. Oneworld Publications, 1959. Accessed 31 May 2024.
u/Tendai-Student. “栄真Eishin (u/Tendai-Student).” Reddit, 31 May 2024, https://www.reddit.com/useTendai-Student/. Accessed 31 May 2024.
u/Tendai-Student. “Buddhism is being MISREPRESENTED in the West Marginalisation, cultural appropriation, misconceptions and what you can do.” Reddit, 2023, https://www.reddit.com/WrongBuddhism/comments/14zc6xg/buddhism_is_being_misrepresented_in_the_west/. Accessed 31 May 2024.

Backstory for this:
My ex (James - m20) and I broke up my junior year of high school after his best friend (David - m21) told me that James cheated on me at a party. James has a sister (Katie - f21) who was in my class. We have been close friends since 6th grade. David and I became friends through James, but during my relationship with James, David and I were never more than acquaintances. I had heard from others about the cheating before David told me, but I didn’t believe others because they were not at the party, and it came up in “I heard…”. David was the only person to tell me who was at this party, and said “this did happen.” It was impossible to chalk it up as a rumor at that point. David then began to distance himself from James because he didn’t like what he did. He wasn’t the only person to distance themselves from James, but David and I became friends after a bit. A few months later, David and I started dating and we’ve now been married for 1.5 years.
Everyone moved away and now for the summer, I am back home visiting by myself this week for a family event while my husband is deployed, and my old friends who I’ve kept in touch with are as well. Katie is back for the first time since moving and I haven’t seen her since graduation.
While a couple other girls and I were running around, we made a last minute choice to pick up Katie as well. Later, Katie invited up to join her and smoke on the roof at their place because James was supposed to have plans and leave. Katie called James to ask if he was gone yet, and when he said he wasn’t she asked if it was cool that we go up to her room. He wasn’t happy about it, but eventually she argued him into just going to another room while we walk in, since we would head straight up to her room. I guess his plans were canceled since he never left, but he called at 1am to ask if me and my friends had left yet. It turns out that the 4 hours we were there, he stayed in his bedroom with the door locked, in the basement, while we were shut in her room on the second floor with the door locked. Katie got irritated with him, saying we’ve been shut in here the entire time and she didn’t know why he wouldn’t just go about his time like we weren’t even here. My friends and I left shortly after as I didn’t want to make things anymore heated.
Yesterday I picked up Katie to go to the mall, and we made another last minute decision to get another friend, go back to my family’s place, and get in the hot tub. We needed to run by Katie’s place to grab her clothes, and on the way she called her mom to let her know. Katie’s mom invited us in for dinner, but we declined. Considering he stayed in the basement while we were on the roof, I didn’t think he would be thrilled to find me at their dinner table. While we were pulling in to the drive, Katie got a text from James that said “don’t bring her in.” She argued to him that it’s been years, but when we got there, I waited in the car.
Now today, James is going to spend a long weekend at his father’s house about an hour away. Katie invited me over to do my nails (she’s a nail artist) and I did her eyelashes (esthetician). Then later we were going to have some wine and watch a movie. However, even though James is gone, he’s still upset that I’m here. Katie has asked him to explain why it’s a problem when he isn’t here, but he won’t.
The whole reason I came over the first night was because I thought James and I were cool. We’ve previously chatted over text, caught up, wished each other well. I thought we were on good terms. I understood him not necessarily wanting to come face to face, but I didn’t realize I made him so uncomfortable that he felt the need to lock himself in the furthest part of the house.
I’m really starting to feel bad. Yes, I do want to hang out and see my friend’s family after not seeing them in year. But I feel like I’m crossing an unspoken boundary. I thought we were in a place where I could hang out with Katie and not be stepping on his toes. Hell, I thought we were at least able to coexist, especially in a social setting, like around friends.
AITAH? Am I crossing the line by being around?

This is a sequal to u/uktabi's Yulpa GF one shot, since he seems to LAZY to make a sequel. (that's a joke, god I'm so tired its almost 3am as I write this god fucking dammit why did i do this to myself)
He was originally inspired by u/FrostedScales' art., (God, please make a cover for this I want one so fucking baaaaaaad)
​
I make my way into my house, a small part of me is hoping for relief from the harsh Savannah heat. Only to be brought back to my unpleasant reality of my house being just as hot and dry as the outside.
Ugh, why do I willingly live in this hellish place without AC?
I hear mewing and tapping hooves getting closer, a small blood red calf comes running towards me and runs circles around me. I extend my free hand and she readily forces her head into it, wrapping her tongue, upper and lower lip around it to return the gesture of connection. The barbs irritate my skin, but she's old enough now not to unintentionally draw blood.
I look down at the pleading eye, happy to see me again.
Ah, right. While I'm in hell she's in paradise, I guess I’ll have to suck it up for her.
I give her a closed lip smile and rub her ears.
“Hi honey, how was school?” She inflates her nostrils and begins to talk to me in learned English. It is… unsettling how accurately she can mimic almost anyone with only her nose. I am reminded of that fact as she speaks in my voice.
“Good, bunny lunch was.” I forced down an indignant laugh at the child's broken grammar. It seems Yulpa are able to understand words, but grammar doesn't seem important to them. I remember how off puttingly dense their spoken language is, they can communicate in infra sound over vast distances. Their phrases were spoken in single words, so a single “word” was a bit of a conversation. Like “Over the river” or ”up the tree is food.”
It was insane how dense their language was.
“Do you know if mom is back?” The little head in my hand nodes while still wrapped around me.
“Garden she eating is.”
I rub her head one more time before I make my way out the back door. The child quickly scampered off to do who knows what.
Out in the back I see her, draped in golden jewelry, with a well maintained main, green cloth and jewels to accentuate her natural deep red coat. She was laying down with what looked like roughage in her maw. She was absentmindedly chewing and staring off into space.
I walked over and rested myself against her side, I let her breathing rise and lower me. Being in the presence of such a large person really made me feel how insanely varied our body masses were. Despite being married and … constituting it, we had to sleep in separate beds, lest she roll onto me and I die of suffocation or all my bones breaking.
I absentmindedly picked some grass and twirled it around. “So, what's wrong?” She rolled her eyes towards me.
“Hungry.” She spoke in perfect English, I looked down at the grass I began to weave together.
“You need to get the cure.” She raised her massive head ever so slightly. “No, betrayal, life lived one way. Too late, already sacrificed too many.” She blows out her nose.
I grab more grass and weave it into the mass I was creating. “I thought I was too old, set in my ways to be married when we met. But now look at us.” I point to the child in the window clearly talking to someone on the home computer. “I’m glad you hunted me, forced me into this. If you didn't I'd still be a lonely S.O.B. jacking it to venlil stuff right now.”
She flicks an ear. “I wanted sacrifice YOU.“ She spoke.
I smirked as I continued to weave. “Yeah but ya didn't. Cause I’m just so sexy!!!”
I can feel a ruble as she laughed, I didn't notice the twitching of her neck mussels as she swung her head over to slap my head with her upper lip. “Ow!!!” I screamed at the surprising strength of the dexterous lip.
I will never get used to how she can hold me like a rag-doll with just her lip. Nor do I want to.
As I nursed my wounded pride I placed the straw hat on her head. “Besides, this is a better use for the hay than causing you pain.”
She breathed out sharply and made a sound only a multi-ton mammal can produce.
“Okay, me get cure.”
I smiled and rubbed her ears, she adjusted the hat I made for her and rested her head on the ground once more.
​
​
**\*
​
​
She seemed antsy as she rocked back and forth, she was making a loaf of herself on the ground. But she could still reach up to my face with her lips as I sat down in a chair beside her.
The waiting room of the Xeno walk-in clinic reminded me more of the vets as species of every size and shape sat in chairs meant for humanoids, or sat on the ground or in perches or, rarely, species specific chairs. Though they were a rarity, a luxury whose expense was used for the most populous non-human species in the area.
Most of which were in a separate waiting room. I saw a family of Farsul enter it, opening the door to the KolSul wing of the clinic. Most everyone in the office instantly scowled when the mother and her pups walked through. They got both the separate wing and specialty chairs as they were by far the most populous Xenos on earth. Thanks to resentment building to massive levels all across the S.C. pushing them here.
I ran my hand through her main, careful to not undo any braids or tug any of her excessive adornments.She was still shifting this way and that as we waited to be called on. I spied a venlil with a deep scowl near the door of the separate wing, he seemed to be wearing a coat. Something highly unusual for his species, especially in this climate.
“Hello uh, we are not sure you… should be seeking care here.”
I was jolted out of my observations by a young farsul attendant addressing me.
“What?” She seemed to stammer.
“We, uh, are a xeno clinic, we specialize in ailments for non humans. Since we are on a human majority planet, human specialty clinics are open here. They can give you much better focused care."
I stared at the young farsul for a few moments, I studied her nervous stance. She seemed to resemble a great Pyrenees breed of dog. I continued to stare for a couple of seconds, enough to make the awkward situation even worse before I shook myself out of it.
“Oh, uh, I’m not here to receive care, my wife is.” I run my hand through her main and look down at her. This is the most nervous I've ever seen her in all my years with her. “She recently got the cure injection and is here to test it out in case something goes wrong.”
The farsul then takes on a deeply confused expression, snapping her head between me and her in quick succession. “...You two… are married?”
I smile and straighten my back and respond in the most enthusiastic voice I can muster. “Yep!!!”
She continued her confused expression before resigning herself. “...Alright then, I’ll get her tested… just follow me.” She turns as she reads our file, we were heading to a farm outside of town to test her on some authentic meat. As we exited the office I tapped her shoulder. “By the way, I saw a venlil by the Kolsul section door, I think is planning something bad.”
She took on a look of annoyed apathy, as though it was a daily occurrence. “Oh, him. Don't worry security is on their way to search him, you'd be surprised how many expats from Scalga we get.”
She rubbed the back of her head and I could barely make out something she whispered. “Not nearly as weird as a human yupla couple, Jesus Christ.”
​
​
**\*
​
​
There, the object of my fearless and terrifyingly powerful wife's hesitation. A single skinned chicken leg, sitting on a metal table. The farsul nurse was making superficial vital checks on her as she stared at the drumstick.
Her lips were curled under her chin.
“Common honey. It's not going to bite you.” I say to comfort her. She glances at me with a look of I don't want to do this, why did i let you convince me to do this onmygodi’mgoingtosacrificeyouyousonofabit-
Her simultaneous death stare/ pleading eyes were pulled away as the farmer spoke at us.
“Eat it and get off my property, I got enough animals to take care of. Don't need two more.” He pointed to my wife and the farsul nurse, they both gave him a scowl as he turned back into his house.
She gently unrolls her lips and tentatively brings out her barbed tongue and wraps it around the drumstick. She brings it into her mouth and I hear a series of slow crunches.
The farsul nurse looks over at her medical doodad as she chews.
“Hmm, it seems everything is in order, the cure has taken and she is handling the meat fine. Just call our clinic if she seems to be having-”
My focus was pulled away from the nurse as I saw my wife's eyes light up from the taste. She looked at the ground at the pecking chicken that was so near. I could hear her imitate the clucking of the chicken, I saw it shoot up and looked confused. Before my wife coils it in her tongue and quickly brings it into her maw, I hear crunching again and a loud gulp. She looks around at the pens and she spies a pig.
She stalks towards it and I can hear her imitating the pigs, she steps over the fence and quickly grapples the approaching pig and bites down hard on its head. I can see her tongue quickly strip the skin off as her lips dig in with their own bards to force the corpse up and into her mouth.
I stare in shock at the display, by this time the other pigs notice the smell of blood and my wife devouring one of their companions and they quickly run to the farthest corner of the pen.
Before I know it the corpse is gone, she licks her lips and walks back over to us.
“-mitochondrial flux drive. As long as that looks good over the next week you should be all set!”
“I , uh, she ate a pig! D-did you see that?” I point to my wife cleaning herself of the mud of the pen.
'Yes, you'd be surprised how suddenly ravenous former omnivores get when they get their appetites fulfilled for the first time, heck I remember I ate a guinea pig when I got cured I was so hungry!’
I wave my arms about. “SHE ATE AN ACTUAL PIG AND YOUR NOT ONE BIT IMPRESSED OR SCARED???”
She turned her gaze to my wife, who was currently spying yet another pig in the corner. “I’ve seen yulpa do it before, trust me, get used to her eating vast amounts of meat.”
I looked at the simultaneously nervous and unimpressed Farsul. I was still reeling from my wife's actions, but decided to deal with them another time. “O-okay”
“Good, now I'd suggest you get her to not eat another. The farmer will definitely notice two pigs missing.” She begins to laugh in her throat. “Heh, I guess he’ll have two less animals to take care of after today heh.”
As we rode back to the clinic my wife was fast asleep in a food coma. The way she just… ate that thing so fast… I think I have to worry about being eaten now. It felt… oddly exhilarating, like when she was still trying to convince herself to sacrifice me all over again.
I think I might have a problem.

I'll be leaving uni for home in a few days time, but I just got off the phone after talking with my parents and siblings and had felt triggered about the past 2 years and how I almost commited suicide because of all the stress and pressure of putting up with what had transpired. For context, I'm 24 (F) in my last year of uni, and I have two brothers 30(M) and (5M) who live with my parents (Both in their late 50's), who live in the country side. I had been diagnosed with heart disease when I was in highschool and since then things have been tough for me, with losing all my weight and having to go through three different schools just to complete high school because of my health, but since then I have got the hang of taking care of myself and my symptoms, I have gained weight, made it to uni (which was a suprise not only to myself but my teachers as well) and am almost done with uni, and I could not be prouder. However, this past week has been a roller coaster, with thoughts of committing suicide lurking in every corner, I didn't know why at first but after talking to my parents on the phone bits of memories came flooding back to me about how I thought I reached my point of living and that my heart was gonna give out any moment or that it would be better if I'd just off myself with that sharp knife in the corner by slitting my wrists open. You see, my mum had this really bad lung infection the Christmas of 2022 while I was home for the holidays, and I took on most of the responsibility of taking care of her from 5am in the morning to the next morning where I'd sleep at 3am after ensuring she was okay, then wake up to do it all again. Don't get me wrong, I loved taking care of my mum, it made me happy that I could be there when she was at her weakest to lend her the strength and care she deserved after taking care of me all these years. It all happened one afternoon when my brother has come home afted being gone all day and did not even receive an earful from my parents (or mainly my dad) like I did for being out for just 2 hours to unwind from taking care of my mum and nursing her back to health all while not having any contact with friends or the outside world then our yard for almost 2 months, I was called selfish by my dad and told that my actions were stupid that if my mum would die I'd look stupid crying for her just like my mum's sister who chose to go out and meet friends the day her father died, that I was supposed to be at home with mum taking care of her. My dad is a stay at home dad, my older brother dropped out of college and my mum is the sole bread winner of the family. While my mum was sick, my dad would get groceries, attend to church meetings, ensure the yard was kept clean lend a hand when it was needed with caring for mum while my brother ate, slept on time, had time to meet friends, throw his plates in the sink without washing them and not lending a hand with helping mum. Meanwhile I spent my days bathing her, dressing her, feeding her, massaging her body, changing her hot water in her mugs to ensure she stayed hydrated because that's all she could drink without coughing , cleaning her sleeping area and sanitizing it everytime she had to go to bed after a warm bath as well as watching over her as she slept to ensure her pillows were placed in a way that didn't obstruct her airflow all while also ensuring that everyone's laundry was done and put away, food was cooked and served, plates were washed and put away, my little brother was cared for also while doing part of my dad's work around the house to ensure he got enoughg sleep at night, since we lived by the country side there were a lot of chores to do around the house as most of the things were done manually or by hand. I did this until she got back on her feet and was able to do little things around the house without my help. After a week or two when my mum had improved told my parents that I'll be gone the next day after lunch to see my friend and that normally before mum got sick Friday was a free day for me that I get an off day of doing house work. So the day came, I dressed up (I felt pretty after not being able to do that in a whole) and left after ensuring that my big brother was home to assist mum whenever she needed and also checked on my mum to see if she was okay and that she didn't need my help before I stepped out of the house at 2pm. The walk to my friend's house felt like heaven, with sun in my face, the breeze on my face and the skip in my step. I spent the afternoon talking, laughing and having a good time with my friend before going home at 5pm, happy and satisfied that the day had brought me so much joy and relieved my stress. I got and came in with a big Hello, to everyone in the house, my dad didn't say anything, he just sat there looking so mad. And that's when he proceeded to call me selfish and compare me to my mother's sister all while my mother and brother sat there saying nothing, I atleast thought they would've spoken up to say that I needed the break, but they didn't. I cried as ai stood there listening to my dad utter out harsh words until I couldn't listen to him anymore. I proceeded muster up a less shaky voice and said the following "I apologies for going out to see my friend and I apologies mum and dad it won't happen again, but the thing is I needed this, after taking care of mum and the house I just needed a break. My brother gets to go out, meet friend and talk to them and even stay out till late but he never gets scolded but when I do it's different. I do everything in this house, I take care of mum, wash all of your clothes, cook the food, feed you all and even wash up after everything and you big brother can't even wash your own plate or lend a hand. Oh and dad I spend the time I get after mum finally rests during the day to do some of your chores to cut down the amount of time you spend doing them in order for you to get a good night's rest and I go to sleep early in the morning just to wake up after 2 hours and do it all again. So I'm sorry that I had to go out, but I really needed it." After saying all that, I went up to my room and cried the whole night. The next morning I came downstairs at 10am to find my dad washing up and my mum on her phone, it was a quiet day, I thought my brother was in his room, then the we got heard that he had actually left in the morning to go visit my aunt who is a 30 minute drive from our house, where he spent the day hanging out with friends and cousins before coming back home at 6pm with my grandma who came to spend a week with us. My dad upon hearing the news that my brother was had left in the morning just shook his head and said that my brother should have stayed and lend a hand around the house, but after my brother got back I was hoping he'd get the same scolding my dad gave me, well that never happened. I went to my mum and asked her why wasn't daddy scolding my big brother and she did not say anything so I spoke up and said aloud, "wow, so I get a scolding for staying out for just 3 hours but he gets to stay out for an entire day without helping out around here and he gets welcomed home?" I then went to my room because I didn't want them to see the tears that started to fall, then it hit me when I was in my room crying, everything that happened over the years on how differently I was treated, my accomplishments my birthday's and even my sickness. It hit me how differently I was treated, my brother had big graduation foods prepared and his graduations were celebrated from primary all the way to high school and little courses while I just had a well done from my parents even after taking in prices since I was in elementary, thought they'd take me out to eat a celebratory lunch after my high school graduation because it was the hardest part of my life to pass but all I got was a disgusted look and a 'thats what your wearing?' after at my graduation after I took my gown off to take pictures. I can't remember the time I blew out candles for my birthday or when a party was thrown for me, but my brother somehow has a cake for most of his birthdays and he had a really big party once with four big cakes, a whole roasted pig, lots of food and even had all his friends invited. When i reaches the age of 14, the same age he was when my parents threw him a party, I thought I'd have the same too, but I didn't, and still had not one party until I turned 24. The day I turned 23, was a month after my mum got better, I spent the whole day cooking for everyone, was wished happy birthday after realising it was my birthday, I then told them I'd come down to eat later after I take a nap and that they should serve the food and leave mine on the dining table. I came down to find they ate most of the food, and I was only placed only a bit of food in my plate. I got mad and hit my plate on the table with just a little food spilling over, my dad saw this and screamed at me and told me that my future husband would beat me up and that my life will be miserable and bad because of what I did. Well you guessed it, I went back to my room crying, and that blade in my bag looked so tempting against my wrists. I also remember when my brother dropped out of college that I was blamed by my parents, with my dad telling me on my way back from the grocery store that I'm the reason my brother ended up like how he is because they show me too much favour growing up. And when my big brother was diagnosed with bipolar disorder after dropping out of college after misuse of alcohol and drugs my mum religiously took to the internet to search for diets, information and everything to do with it until he became better and she continued doing so for every little sickness like flu, meanwhile my heart disease was never on her search list. She even signed up for YouTube videos and lessons on everything to do with my brother health, and mind you my heart disease was diagnosed 6 years before he got bipolar. I left for school after the holidays, still exhausted and stressed from the entire experience. My body had reached its lowest point, I could feel my heart was tired, I was ready to die in my bed in my dorm, I had made peace that if my heart passed out before while rest I'd be okay with it. That's third year of uni was hell for me, my body never really recovered, I kept getting sick, had malaria countless times as well as typhoid three times in a row the same year. The stress combined with with the state of my immunity caused me to be sent to various medical officers and clinics to get my blood samples and x-rays to find what was wrong with me, why after being treated and cured my body felt sick. They thought I had tuberculosis, others thought I had STI's but all tests came back negative, and mind you all these tests cost money and my parents weren't happy with what they were spending for me to get this tests. It came to a point when I called my mum to tell her that I feel really sick and I'm stressed with my assignments, only for her to say "you're always sick, everytime we call you're sick. Don't you know we're tired of this, stop trying to get sick!". I'm tired of getting sick too mum, I thought to myself as I got off the call and stared at the pile of medicine Infront of me prescribed by the doctor as well as my heart meds, and they were too much, my mum's words over the phone kept playing in my head I I got my the blade on my study table and pressed it into my left wrist lightly drew it over to cut the skin, the pain felt soothinf, calming even, then I wondered how it would feel if I placed the knife on my study table and fell on it to pierce my heart, would the pain feel good? Would the thoughts stop? Would mum stop complaining? Would they mis me? What would happen to my body? Then I thought better of it and wrote in my dairy ro stop myself from doing ealxactly that then I was distracted by my medicine Infront of me with thoughts of "they would never know if you take all these and overdose, it'll be a painless death." The remainder of third year continued like these, with sickness and suicide thoughts until I went for job internship at a company I've always wanted to work in and life was good because i didnt for home for the holidays and I spent the holidays at school in my little dorm room with friends who looked out for me. Then 2024 rolled around and I'm properly rested, no stress and I'm happy. That's is until a month ago when my parents bought me my ticket to go back home to see them for the holidays that I spiralled, I had completely locked those memories away, but after every phone call this past month I'm left a crying mess with flashes of words said and feelings felt during that time and I go back to thinking of suicide. I nearly commited suicide on the 16th of may, i was truly gonna go throught with it, I wanted to so bad if only I did not see the bible verses in front of me amd if my roommates hadn't come back early. But I know, if I do go home now, I might actually commit suicide, if something like what happened in the past happens again, or if they say another harsh word, I wouldn't think twice of dying, because I'm done, I truly am.

I've been struggling with accepting my body for a long time. I've lost track of the number of hours I've spent on this subreddit over the past few years, trying so hard to tell myself that what I was feeling was normal and that there are other women who look like me, and that I don't need plastic surgery or some miraculous second puberty to hit.
I realized today that I've gone from hating my boobs to loving them over the past year. For context, I'm basically completely flat chested (my breast size is very similar to Clara Dao, though the rest of my body is not). I'm posting here for the first time ever because I wanted to share my story and hopefully be able to help anyone else going through a similar journey!
TL,DR: Grew up super insecure about my flat chest, but now love it! Read bold text & list at the bottom for main points.
Growing up, I endured a lot of cruel comments about my breast size which really tore away at me. It was the ones that came from close friends and family which hurt the most, and I eventually believed that my body was so hideous that it took literal miracles for people to be able to see past it and want to get to know me as a person. I had myself convinced from a very young age that I would never experience romantic love because of my body.
As much as I'd like to say that it was self love that got me past these feelings, it was my first relationship that did. Realizing that it was actually possible for me to experience mutual attraction tore down all of my beliefs and left me with no foundations to continue hating my appearance. It got easier for me to view myself as attractive, even after the relationship ended.
But this was my key realization: my boobs were exactly the same size before, during, and after my first relationship. I never needed anyone to prove to me that my body was worthy of love, it always has been. I just never saw it before.
Of course experiencing a relationship wasn't enough to singlehandedly eliminate my insecurities. I'm sure others have brought up similar steps in their journeys to self love, but these are the things that helped me most!

• working out consistently and appreciating how strong and capable my body is (weightlifting has given me so much confidence, and chest days help with definition)
• referring to my boobs as "boobs/breast" instead of "my chest" (I used to feel like I didn't have a right to refer to my boobs as anything other than "my chest" because they were too small)
• staying away from people who make any negative comments about my breast size
• avoiding any kind of shows/media that hyper-sexualize women, particularly over breast size
• going braless
• reminding myself that clothes are meant to fit me, and even though there are some super cute styles that I can't fill out the top in, there are plenty of other styles that suit me so well!
• looking at pictures of celebrities, influencers, friends, etc. with similar body types and remembering how beautiful they look

I would like to acknowledge that I have been fortunate enough to come across numerous friends throughout this journey who have either been very supportive or perfectly neutral about my breast size. All of my romantic interests and casual hookups have also shown appreciation for my boobs. I have had setbacks due to comments from relatives who I can't avoid, but for the most part, I've found that people have been much kinder to me as an adult than when I was a teenager, and this has also helped immensely.
To everyone else here, I hope that you can love and appreciate your beautiful, perfect, small boobs too.

So today, I hopped into a SFS batch filled with 45 items of clothing 🙂, i only had 8 items left and i literally rfid everywhere (the line, back stock, the floor, go backs and fitting rooms) even asked a style tm to help me find the items and unfortunately i couldn’t find the items. So i went up to a style tl since my tl wasn’t presented that day and she went through and helped me look for them. again unfortunately 😭we didn’t see them, all of them were zero on hand, no delivery date and sold months ago. i was given the okay to inf them. Later the SD comes up to me and expresses the disappointment my infs were for ship 🙂i explained to her that i checked everywhere and even had helped from a tl and tm. She just brushed it off like i didn’t try my best and she told me “jokingly” this is ur final warning or something along those lines 🥲 i literally try not giving a fuck but holy even you try ur hardest on something , it proves time over and over again how this company will fuck you over. how are we getting punished when there’s no shit in the store

Finn Tresscoat, a 20-year-old with short dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a pale complexion, strolled down the sidewalk of his small town. He wore a light brown leather jacket over a black shirt, paired with black jeans and black-and-white sneakers.
As Finn ambled along, he glanced at the many shops lining the main road of the town's bustling center. He wasn't searching for anything in particular; he simply wanted to enjoy the rare day off from his job, one of the most perilous occupations in the United West (U.W.).
"Finn! Oh, Finn!"
Finn turned his head to the right and spotted Ms. Tori Elortor, or simply Ms. Tori as he called her. She was an older lady in her early fifties, though her youthful appearance often surprised the townsfolk. With long white hair cascading down her back, pale skin, and bright hazel eyes, she was a striking figure. Today, she wore a navy blue sundress over a pair of tight blue jeans and brown cowboy boots.
Ms. Tori, the local bakery owner, was considered quite attractive and often caught the eye of the younger men in town. Her curvaceous figure and active lifestyle, including regular yoga sessions in the park, only added to her allure. However, Finn saw her differently. Having known her since childhood and feeling like part of her family, he saw her as a maternal figure rather than anything else. He was also close to her son, Eric, feeling like an older brother to him.
Despite his demanding job, which kept him busy for nearly twenty-four-seven, Finn always tried to visit Ms. Tori and Eric whenever he could. Today was a rare opportunity for him to relax and reconnect.
"Ah, hi Ms. Tori! How are you today?" Finn greeted her with a warm smile.
Ms. Tori returned his smile. "I'm just fine, Finn. The real question is, how are you? I haven't seen you in months!" Her tone shifted to one of concern. "I was worried, and so was Eric. You do have quite a dangerous job for someone so young," she added.
What kind of dangerous job did Finn have, you might ask?
Well, Finn was a "Gaunt Hunter," a member of a specialized group tasked with safeguarding the small towns outside the major cities in the United West from creatures known as Gaunts.
These slim, humanoid creatures had leathery black skin, no eyes or nose, and wide mouths that drooled a strange dark green liquid. They had emerged after the cataclysmic "Decade of Winter."
The Gaunts varied in form and capability. Some were very muscular, while others had bat-like wings, allowing them to fly. They were also cunning, often creating weapons from scavenged materials and hunting in packs.
Disturbingly, these were just the common variants.
There were tales of Gaunts resembling animals and some that could even speak, though Finn himself had never encountered such anomalies.
Despite the ominous title of Gaunt Hunter, Finn's role wasn't as glamorous as one might imagine.
He wasn't a high-tech, gadget-wielding hero. Gaunt Hunters received training similar to regular police officers, focusing on the use of firearms. However, since firearms were not commonly traded or shipped to the smaller towns outside the major cities, Gaunt Hunters were also taught to wield swords, knives, and other melee weapons, as well as trained in close-range combat.
Finn had been trained to fire a pistol but also learned to fight with a machete, which was more practical for their needs than a traditional sword. On duty, he carried a standard-issue Glock-17 and a machete strapped to his side. He also wore the standard protective gear issued to United West Security Forces (UWSF) officers.
Returning to the conversation with Ms. Tori, Finn let out a lighthearted chuckle. "Dangerous for most of the veterans on the job, but I'm young and fit! Practically invincible!" he said with a grin.
Ms. Tori gave Finn an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow. "Is that right?" she asked. "Then what's this I hear about a Gaunt nearly taking your head off just last week?"
Finn's face flushed with embarrassment as he recalled the incident. A Gaunt had caught him off guard and nearly decapitated him with a makeshift axe. "Okay... yeah, fair enough," he admitted, looking down.
Ms. Tori's expression softened, and she gave him a few light taps on the shoulder. "Oh, I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Finn, I'm just reminding you that your job is dangerous… You need to be careful," she said gently.
Finn looked up at her and nodded. "I know, and thank you for caring," he replied. Inwardly, he thought, 'It's not like anyone else does'
"Of course, I care, Finn," Ms. Tori said firmly. "Do you know how devastated I'd be if you got hurt or, heaven forbid, died? I'd be heartbroken,” she told him. “Eric would be even worse off, after all, who would play with him?"
Finn felt a wave of warmth at her words. Despite not wanting to worry Ms. Tori or Eric, it was comforting to know there were people who cared about him, and who wanted him to stay safe and come back home. "I guess you're right," he said with a soft smile. "I'll try to be more careful out there, I promise,”
Ms. Tori nodded, her smile lingering. "Good,” she said. “Now, how many days do you have off?" she asked.
"Not many," Finn replied with a sigh. "Just today,"
Ms. Tori's eyes widened in shock. "Only today? Why?" She asked.
Finn's expression turned serious. "Many of the other Gaunt Hunters are either dead, retiring, or switching to become cops... There are only ten of us left in the entire town,"
Ms. Tori's eyes widened in horror. Gaunt Hunters were the primary defense against the Gaunts. The law across the U.W. dictated that local law enforcement dealt with human issues, leaving Gaunt-related threats to the Hunters. The thought of their numbers dwindling was terrifying.
Each town was supposed to have a contingent of Gaunt Hunters, given that small towns were the primary targets for Gaunt attacks.
Major cities, in contrast, rarely had to deal with Gaunts.
The dense populations of these urban centers acted as a deterrent, scaring off most Gaunt packs. Even if a small group of Gaunts did manage to attack, the cities were equipped with heavy weaponry and advanced defenses, making Gaunt Hunters unnecessary there.
This starkly contrasted with the dire need for Gaunt Hunters in the smaller, more vulnerable towns.
Ideally, each small town would have around fifty Gaunt Hunters, a number intended to ensure adequate protection against the Gaunt threat. However, the reality was far grimmer. The inherent dangers and heavy responsibilities associated with the job dissuaded many from becoming Gaunt Hunters. The perilous nature of the work, combined with the constant threat of death, resulted in a severe shortage of recruits.
As a result, the numbers in many towns had dwindled alarmingly.
"Only ten?" she repeated her voice barely above a whisper. "That's... alarming… What happens if more Gaunts come?"
"We do our best," Finn said, trying to sound confident. "But it's tough… Every day, we’re stretched thinner,"
Ms. Tori took a deep breath, trying to process the gravity of the situation.
Finn felt a lump in his throat. "I promise, Ms. Tori. I'll do everything I can to stay safe," he said, trying to remind her if his promise mere moments ago.
Ms. Tori wanted to argue with Finn's comment, but deep down, she knew he was somewhat right. The town was struggling—trade had slowed to a trickle, and many residents had moved away. The constant threat of Gaunt attacks made living there increasingly untenable. Even Ms. Tori had considered leaving to ensure Eric’s safety and to give him a chance to grow up in a more stable environment where he could interact with other children and experience the broader world.
However, she couldn’t bring herself to leave.
Her late husband was buried in this town, and even though years had passed since his death, she felt tied to the place where he rested. She had loved this town deeply, and in a way, staying felt like keeping a part of him alive.
Seeing the conflict in her eyes, Finn decided to change the subject. "Hey, why don't I come over for dinner?" he suggested with a soft smile. "I'm sure Eric would be happy to see me after so long,”
Ms. Tori was pulled out of her thoughts by his offer. She smiled, grateful for his willingness to spend his rare day off with them. "That would be lovely, Finn," she said with a quick nod.
They walked together to Ms. Tori's home, a modest three-bedroom house with a large attic. Inside, they found Eric sitting in front of the TV, watching cartoons. Hearing Finn’s voice, Eric turned, his face lighting up with excitement. He jumped out of his seat and ran to give Finn a hug.
Eric was about 11 years old, with brown hair like his deceased father but hazel eyes like his mother. He was wearing a dark black and blue striped shirt, dark gray pants, and black slip-on shoes.
Finn hugged him back, smiling. "I've got some stories to tell over dinner," he said, which made Eric's eyes sparkle with anticipation.
He loved hearing about the world beyond their town, even if it was mostly filled with woods and the ruins of an old world.
Finn then followed Ms. Tori into the kitchen to help prepare dinner. He found what he could and handed the items to her, glad to be of assistance. Ms. Tori thanked him and asked if he could help chop vegetables, which he was more than happy to do.
As they worked side by side, Ms. Tori glanced at Finn, her expression a mix of gratitude and concern. "You know, Finn, this town means a lot to me,” she told him “It’s where I built my life with my husband, and it’s where I want Eric to grow up, despite everything,"
Finn nodded, understanding the deep attachment she had. "I get it, Ms. Tori. This place has a lot of memories, and as long as I'm here, I'll do my best to keep it safe for you and Eric,"
Ms. Tori smiled warmly. "I know you will, Finn... Thank you,”
Dinner was a warm, lively affair. Eric listened intently to Finn’s stories, hanging on every word. The laughter and conversation filled the small home, creating a moment of normalcy amidst the chaos of their world. For a brief time, the threats outside seemed distant, and they enjoyed the simple pleasure of being together.
After a few bites, Eric looked at Finn eagerly. "Can you tell me one of your stories, Finn?" he asked, his eyes bright with anticipation.
Finn nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Well, a couple of days ago, I was out with two or three other Hunters, we had just finished fighting off a few Gaunts, once they were dealt with, we decided to explore the area since it was the site of an old abandoned amusement park,” he began. “Some of the rides were still standing, though most were broken and destroyed, it was interesting to see the tech they used to have back then," Finn recounted.
Eric's eyes widened with excitement. "Wow! That's awesome!" he exclaimed.
Finn grinned. "It was pretty cool, but it’s nothing compared to some of the parks I saw in Salton Lake City! Those places are amazing,"
Eric's eyes gleamed at the mention of the nearby city. "Man, I want to go there someday!" he said enthusiastically. "Maybe when I start my training to be a Gaunt Hunter," he added with a big smile.
Finn chuckled. "So, you want to be a Gaunt Hunter, huh?" he asked. "You think you’ve got what it takes?"
Eric nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh! I know I can be a Gaunt Hunter! I bet I can even be better than you!" he declared, pointing at Finn.
Finn raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh really?" he said. "Who's to say I'm not the best of the best, huh?"
Eric gave him a smug smirk. "Because if you were the best Hunter, you'd have already gotten rid of all the Gaunts!" he said confidently.
Finn chuckled. "Well, you got me there," he admitted. "But hey, if you think you can be the best and get rid of all the Gaunts, then I say go for it, dude."
Eric chuckled and resumed eating, his enthusiasm undimmed. Ms. Tori watched the two with a fond smile, marveling at the brotherly bond between them. It warmed her heart to see how close they had become. She knew that Finn cherished this connection just as much as Eric did, especially since Finn had grown up without a family of his own, raised in the local orphanage.
She recalled those early days when a young Finn would walk into the bakery, clutching a few coins. His eyes would light up with wonder at the sight of the treats and goodies lining the shelves. Something about him had touched her heart, and she began offering him free treats for him and the other orphans whenever he visited. Her late husband had also taken a liking to Finn, treating him like the son they never had. When Finn decided to become a Gaunt Hunter, it was her husband who had helped him prepare for the rigorous training, getting him into shape and offering constant encouragement.
After her husband's death, it was Finn who helped her grieve and find the strength to carry on. She had felt terrible about leaning on him during such a hard time, knowing he had his own sadness to deal with, yet he remained steadfast and strong. He had been there for her and for Eric, helping the young boy understand their loss and navigate the difficult times that followed.
She was truly grateful to have Finn in her life.
Suddenly, Finn's phone vibrated insistently in his pocket. He quickly reached for it and saw a text message from work. He opened it, dreading what it might say.
[~Finn, we need you tonight. Jon and Gary quit out of the blue, so we need someone to fill in.~]
Finn sighed, frustration bubbling up inside him. 'Great, now we're down to eight Hunters,' he thought. 'And Jon and Gary were both my age and in better shape than the veterans at the station.'
Ms. Tori noticed the change in his expression and knew immediately what it meant. "Does duty call, Finn?" she asked gently.
Finn nodded, his expression weary. "Yeah, looks like Jon and Gary quit. They need me to cover tonight."
Ms. Tori sighed, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Finn. I know how much you were looking forward to some time off."
"It's alright," Finn said, forcing a smile. "I knew it was a long shot anyway. The town needs all the help it can get."
Eric looked up, concern etched on his young face. "Do you have to go, Finn?"
Finn ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "Yeah, buddy. Duty calls. But I'll be back, and we’ll have more stories to share. I promise."
Ms. Tori gave him a supportive nod. "Just promise us you'll stay safe, Finn."
"I will," Finn assured her. He stood up, preparing to leave. "Thanks for dinner, Ms. Tori. It was great, as always."
As he left the warm, comforting atmosphere of Ms. Tori's home and headed out into the cold night, Finn felt a renewed sense of purpose. Despite the exhaustion and the ever-present danger, he knew he had to keep fighting. For the town, for Eric, and for the memory of the man who had helped him become who he was.
Once at the station, Finn entered and immediately spotted Dick Cortez, a veteran Gaunt Hunter who had been safeguarding the town for as long as Finn could remember. Dick, now in his 50s, had graying hair, deep-set wrinkles, and perpetually tired eyes. He was wearing the standard-issue armor that all Gaunt Hunters received, though each Hunter was allowed to customize their armor with different colors and modifications.
Dick's armor consisted of a high-collar black shirt beneath a modified, pure black chest plate that covered his upper abdomen, along with similarly-colored bracers. Both the chest plate and bracers were trimmed with white and featured matching shoulder pads. He also wore gloves with small metal plating on the fingers, dark navy jeans, black and white metal knee pads, and dark brown boots.
Dick noticed Finn and offered a small smile. "Heya, Finn," he greeted.
"Hey yourself, Dick," Finn replied with a nod.
"Sorry about having to bring you in on your day off," Dick said, his tone genuinely apologetic.
Finn walked over to his locker, where his armor and weapons were stored. He glanced at Dick and shrugged, giving a small smile. "It's alright, Dick. I understand why, and I'm not angry—well, not at you, but at those two," Finn said, referring to Jon and Gary.
Dick nodded in understanding. "Trust me, I'm disappointed in them too, but I can see why they left so suddenly," he said.
Finn nodded back, opening his locker to reveal his armor. His armor was similar to Dick's but differed in color and the clothing underneath. Finn wore his usual attire beneath the armor, which consisted of a dark brown chest plate trimmed with black, matching bracers, shoulder pads, knee pads, and gloves.
He took the armor out and quickly dressed, securing the pieces in place. He then grabbed his Glock and its holster, strapping it around his waist, and added his machete in its sheath. Once fully suited up, he turned to Dick with a raised brow. "Which side of town am I patrolling tonight?"
"Outer wall, west side," Dick stated, his voice firm.
Finn nodded, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead. The west side of the outer wall was notorious for Gaunt activity, a hotspot for their attacks. It was going to be a long night.
As he headed out, Dick called after him, "Stay sharp out there, Finn. We can't afford to lose any more good Hunters."
Finn turned back and gave a resolute nod. "I will, Dick. See you in the morning."
Once outside the city, Finn couldn't help but take in the grim sight of the outer wall. It was marred with deep scratches and chips from relentless Gaunt attacks, stained with the dark green goo that dripped from their slavering mouths, and speckled with bloodstains that would never fully wash away. The stark contrast between this battered exterior and the inner walls of the town was striking. Inside, the walls were adorned with chalk drawings from children and vibrant murals from the town's artists. These cheerful images served as a reminder of what he was protecting, and why he had chosen to become a Gaunt Hunter in the first place.
Reaching the west side of the wall, Finn began his patrol, moving back and forth to ensure no Gaunts were attempting to scale the barrier. For now, the night was quiet, and he hoped it would remain that way.
As he walked his beat, his thoughts drifted back to dinner with Eric and the boy's enthusiastic declaration about becoming a Gaunt Hunter. While part of him felt honored by Eric's admiration, another part was deeply troubled. The life of a Hunter was dangerous and filled with horrors that no one should have to witness, let alone a young boy like Eric.
Finn's mind flashed back to a particularly gruesome memory from a past patrol. He and another Hunter had been called to assist in repelling a large pack of Gaunts. They had rushed to the scene, only to find their comrades dead, slaughtered in horrific ways. One Hunter's skull had been cracked open, with Gaunts eating from it as if it were a bowl of grapes. Another Hunter, still alive, was being disemboweled and devoured. Finn could never forget the man's agonized expression as he watched his own entrails being torn apart and consumed. The sight had been so revolting that Finn had vomited on the spot, paralyzed by shock until his partner snapped him back to reality.
Then there were the stories he had heard from veterans like Dick. Dick once recounted an incident where a Hunter had been speared to death by multiple Gaunts. They hadn't even eaten him; they had just impaled him repeatedly, leaving his body to rot in the woods for days. Such tales highlighted the Gaunts' malevolence and complete lack of empathy.
Finn shuddered at the memories. He didn't want Eric to face such nightmares. The boy was full of life and potential, and Finn couldn't bear the thought of him enduring the same horrors he had.
Since that harrowing incident and the chilling story Dick had shared, Finn had sworn to himself that he wouldn't meet a similar fate. He vowed to go out fighting, to not end up like those other hunters. He couldn't bear the thought of becoming another victim, especially after what happened to his sister.
The sudden howl nearby jolted Finn out of his grim thoughts. The sound was close—too close. Instantly alert, he scanned his surroundings. Just then, something whizzed past his face, slicing his cheek. He turned to see a makeshift arrow embedded in the wall. Spinning back around, his heart sank as he saw ten Gaunts emerging from the tree line.
"Shit!" Finn cursed, his eyes widening in horror. This was a dire situation. He quickly drew his Glock and aimed at the advancing creatures. Before he could fire, a sharp pain seared through his left side. He glanced down to see a small dagger lodged in his torso.
'What the hell?' Finn thought, bewildered. 'Did one of the Gaunts throw this?'
"Sorry, but it's nothing personal," a strange voice echoed through the darkness.
Finn's gaze snapped forward, and he saw a figure emerging from the shadows. They wore a long black cloak that seemed to envelop them completely, giving the eerie impression that they were gliding across the ground rather than walking.
The figure approached him, their face obscured by the cloak's hood. "My, you are a handsome young man," they purred in a sultry tone. "Such a fucking shame that my babies must eat. We've been on the run, and they haven't had a chance to rest and eat until we saw you." They giggled, a chilling sound that sent shivers down Finn's spine.
Fear gripped Finn, but he managed to look up at the cloaked figure with a raised brow. "W-Who are you?" he stammered, his voice wavering.
The figure tilted their head slightly as if amused by his question. "Who am I?" they echoed. "I am their mother, their caretaker. I ensure they survive, even if it means feeding them humans like you." The figure leaned closer, and Finn could just make out a twisted smile beneath the hood.
Finn's mind raced. He needed to think of a way out, and fast. The Gaunts were closing in, and he was injured and at a severe disadvantage. Summoning his remaining strength, he clutched his Glock tighter and tried to steady his breath. He couldn't let this be the end.
The figure's giggle echoed eerily through the night, sending a shiver down Finn's spine. "Oh! Now I'm regretting stabbing you," they remarked with a twisted amusement. "It's not every day a handsome young man asks me my name, you know? Most prefer a no-name policy." Their tone was cryptic, and Finn couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in his gut. "While I would love to give you my name in far better circumstances, I'm afraid I don't have the time," they continued, their words dripping with urgency. "As I said, we're on the run from a rather unpleasant girl."
Finn's confusion only deepened. The figure's response didn't provide any clarity, leaving him even more perplexed. As the figure began to back away, Finn's eyes widened in shock as the Gaunts beside them moved in unison. ‘She can... control them!?’ he realized, disbelief washing over him.
"Go ahead, babies... EAT!" the figure commanded, her voice chillingly calm.
With a sickening lurch in his stomach, Finn watched as the Gaunts surged forward, their hunger palpable in the air. Determination surged within him, driving him to fight against the odds stacked against him. Ignoring the searing pain from his wound, he raised his gun and fired at the approaching Gaunts. Despite his efforts, only one was hit, and even then, it didn't slow down.
Finn gritted his teeth, preparing for the inevitable close-quarter battle with the monsters. "Come on!" he growled defiantly. "I'm right here!"
The Gaunts closed in, their predatory instincts driving them forward. Just as they leaped toward him, ready to strike, something unexpected occurred.
Thorny vines erupted from the ground, snaking around the Gaunts with incredible speed. Finn's eyes widened in astonishment as the vines ensnared the creatures, halting their advance. The vines twisted and contorted, slamming the Gaunts into the ground with brutal force, tearing at their flesh and rendering them helpless.
" Damn! How did that bitch already find us!?" the figure exclaimed, frustration evident in their voice.
Finn's gaze followed the figure's gaze as a new figure emerged from the shadows.
Her appearance was striking, to say the least. With a spiky red Mohawk and piercing red eyes devoid of any white, she exuded an aura of fierce determination. Smudged mascara framed her intense gaze, adding to her wild and untamed appearance. Her lips were painted black, a stark contrast to her fiery red hair and eyes. Clad in a black leather crop top vest that accentuated her slim, athletic frame, she exuded an air of defiance. Arm bands encircled her wrists and biceps, resembling the wraps worn by boxers, hinting at her combat prowess. Around her neck, she wore a large choker, adding to her rebellious demeanor. Her attire was completed by tight leather pants and high-heeled platform boots, giving her an imposing presence.
"Found you, ya freaking cunt!" she spat, her voice laced with venom.
The cloaked figure retreated, increasing the distance between them and the girl. "Ugh, don't you ever give up?" they retorted, their tone tinged with irritation.
The girl leveled a fierce glare at the figure. "After the shit you've done!? I ain't letting you go!" she declared, her voice dripping with disdain.
The figure let out a mocking giggle. "Is that so?" they taunted, gesturing toward Finn who lay wounded on the ground. "Not even to save his life?"
The girl's gaze shifted to Finn, her expression softening momentarily as she registered his injuries. Before she could react, a shrill howl pierced the air, drawing their attention back to the figure.
"What the hell did you do!?" the girl demanded, her voice trembling with rage.
"Oh, just called in a few friends over for dinner," the figure replied casually.
"You bitch!" the girl seethed.
With a swift motion, she thrust her hand forward, summoning a massive vine with thorns protruding from its surface. The vine lunged toward the figure, but they evaded the attack with agile grace, darting away through the forest.
"Have fun~!" they taunted, their laughter echoing through the trees as they disappeared into the darkness.
Driven by determination, the girl pursued the figure, her footsteps echoing through the forest. However, her path was suddenly obstructed as a horde of Gaunts emerged from the shadows, blocking her way with menacing snarls and bared teeth.
"Get out of my way!" the girl cried, her voice ringing with determination.
In an instant, a smaller thorned vine shot out of the ground with startling speed, piercing through the approaching Gaunts like a bullet. Lifted into the air by the force of the vine, the creatures were hurled aside, crashing into trees with bone-crushing force.
As more Gaunts emerged from the shadows behind her, four shots echoed through the air. Finn's aim was true, striking the advancing Gaunts and causing them to writhe in agony as they fell to the ground. The girl glanced back to see Finn's timely intervention, offering a silent nod of acknowledgment before focusing her attention back on the remaining threats. Summoning more vines, she ensnared the creatures, tearing them apart with ruthless efficiency.
Satisfied that the immediate danger had passed, the girl turned back towards Finn, who was now sitting against the wall, applying pressure to his wound.
Bending down beside him, the girl flashed a smile, revealing sharp triangular teeth reminiscent of a shark. "Nice shooting there, dude. Really saved my ass back there," she remarked.
Finn managed a weak chuckle. "I should be thanking you. If you hadn't shown up, I'd be Gaunt food," he admitted.
"Let's call it even, then, eh?" she suggested. "What's your name?" she inquired.
Finn met her gaze, taking a moment to catch his breath before responding. "Finn, Finn Tresscoat," he introduced himself. Curiosity burning in his eyes, he posed a question in return. "Who are you? No... What are you?" he asked, unable to shake off the mystery surrounding her.
The girl maintained her enigmatic smile, meeting his gaze with her striking red eyes. "The name's Rachel Rose," she revealed. "As for what I am, well... I can answer that once you're all patched up," she added cryptically.
Summoning another vine, Rachel gently lifted Finn to his feet, supporting him as they began to make their way back towards town. With each step, Finn's mind buzzed with questions, the mysteries surrounding Rachel and her abilities swirling in his thoughts. Who was the cloaked figure? How did they control the Gaunts? And most pressing of all, who—or what—was Rachel, and how was she able to command those vines with such ease?
As they walked back toward town, Finn couldn't help but feel the weight of exhaustion settle upon him, both physically and mentally. His thoughts swirled with questions about the events that had just transpired—about Rachel, the cloaked figure, and the unsettling abilities they both possessed. Yet, amidst the chaos of his mind, one pressing question emerged, demanding attention above all else.
'When the hell am I gonna get another day off? Because I can sure as hell use it right now...!' Finn thought to himself, his weariness palpable.
Rachel, walking beside him, seemed to sense his inner turmoil. Casting him a sidelong glance, she offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Finn. You'll have your chance to rest soon," she assured him, her voice carrying a note of empathy.
Finn managed a weary smile in return, grateful for the reassurance. Despite the gravity of their situation, her words offered a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that loomed over them…

May 31st, 2024
I have had the most surreal, intense dream I have ever experienced in my entire life. I know that I will never be able to do this dream justice by simply writing words down on paper, but to try and ignore or "forget" something so impactful feels like an incredible disservice to my psyche.
The start of my dream seems to involve a fellow musician I've met. He was a piano player. We were outside at night, in some parking lot. I will continue to refer to the pianist as "Phil".
Phil had introduced me to a congregation of other musicians. I don't remember what any of them played, or how many there were. I was offered an invitation to join them; all I had to do was learn and perform a piece of sheet music they had provided to me by next week.
From there, I had somehow transitioned to riding around at night in some criminal's car. I didn't get the feeling I was kidnapped - rather, I was there by choice (?) I confided in the criminal how much I loathe having to go to work every week; how it must be nice to just steal everything I could ever want or need.
Then, much like Phil, the criminal seemed to offer me an "in" on the criminal lifestyle. I immediately declined, knowing what I would have had to prove.
Up until this point, I would say this dream has been relatively "normal", at least by dream standards. But things are just getting started.
Still at night, I was in a dark building; I thought I was alone. I walked through the door in front of me, leading down a small set of steps into further blackness. It was here that I felt the presence of others with me. I believe these were the same group of musicians that Phil had introduced me to. I felt some of my clothes being stripped from my body. Again, I willingly let this happen. I was placed into a robe and a hat of some kind. I was given a series of cryptic tests and riddles, which I seemed to be able to solve intuitively and almost instantly.
As these tests carried on, they seemed to go faster and faster. At this point, within the dream itself, it's as though my mind's eye was wide open. There were many images and symbols that passed by quickly, yet each one was so dense with meaning and purpose. All the symbols seemed to have a heavy religious and/or hermetic context to them. Various themes and emotions come to my mind when I try to recall these images: -Love -Sacrifice -Deceit -Illusions -Murder -Trust -Devotion -Mysticism/Magicks
I'm sure there are many more ideas I could recall from these images, but I would be here far too long to list them all off.
The biggest crime of this journal entry is that I lack the ability to convey through illustration or descriptive words what exactly I saw (not a single thing!)
At some point within this bizarre and cryptic initiation ritual, there was some sort of statement made regarding how it was "evil", immoral, even, to have a partner that is too physically short. My thoughts immediately went to my girlfriend. I heard someone exclaim: " 4"11' is too short to be loved!"
Now that I am awake (at the time of writing), I remembered my girlfriend is about 5"4'. While still in this bizarre dream, I had no way to quantify or rationalize that at all. My natural response then, was to disagree and fight against that statement, because I was unwilling to give her up for whatever wizard cult B.S. I had gotten myself into.
Perhaps, this was an intentional part of the test. A trap that was set to catch me. While still seeing all of these visions, I could feel my physical body being dragged out of the ceremony room. I could hear Phil in the background, pleading to give me another chance. It would seem that his plea fell upon deaf ears. I felt myself being stabbed. Although the pain was excruciating, I could not tell if it was my physical body being stabbed, or my soul. I was stabbed multiple times, each time seemed to further sever my psychic connection more and more from the ritual.
After that, I found myself banished into some sort of hell or purgatory. It was somewhat gloomy, kind of reminding me of Dark Souls 1. I saw my best friend here, but he did not acknowledge or reply to me.
From this point in the dream, I was BEYOND horrified. Fortunately, it was at this point as well that I was able to "will" my actual eyes open, and finally end the dream.

First/Previous
Since I knew there was a time before, I’ve wanted it, but that was child’s hope; even as a boy I wanted a dream. I wanted some divine being to enter from heaven and tell us all how it should be, but that wasn’t something I could ever count on—of course. Is there a god? I think so. I’ve seen those things and if they exist, then surely there’s a maker on the other end of it—god made both the light and the dark if the word’s to be believed and all we can hope for is a glimpse of the former. Even for a second.
The streets were soaked with blood and so many artillery rounds were fired into the sky—many I witnessed missed Leviathan—that I forgot what silence was like (not to mention the screams and there was a lot of that).
In the scrambling, I found I was reentering deeper into Golgotha and that wasn’t good. There was the ever-present thought that Maron was around every corner; the man had haunted my thoughts for longer that he should have and every time it was like an overwhelming force. It was simple enough after all, he was a piece of the past, a piece I could theoretically reach out and touch and that was what kept me to him.
In the fray of bolting citizens, I pressed myself to the exterior of a wall—I’d neared the stairs which once led to my apartment—and I kept out of the way of those that mindlessly went; some of those which rushed from the onslaught were those afflicted with skitterbugs and many of them either hobbled on blackened legs or—and this was rare—comrades or family helped to carry those which could not carry themselves. It was a baffling sight. A man carried a woman like a child (her toes had fallen off and her legs were black to the knees) and though he strode on with her, his own boots were caked with a mixture of blood and earth. An older girl led a young boy from the whirlwind of dust which was kicked up in the square; the boy’s eyes were whited, and his hands were curled to his chest, discolored. People, whatever duality there is, cared. There was not a drop of the apathy I’d learned and encouraged in myself.
I chewed like a mad dog through my bindings, and it was of little use; I yanked at the cord which secured my hands together and received rope burn in return. “Bitch!” I cussed the thing, but the flames in the sky were so loud, the bangs and vibrations from the artillery consumed all so it was like yelling in a barrel. I swung my hands out in front of me, feeling useless and felt a sudden urge to try again. I bit into the cord and repetitively motioned my jaw against the pressure of the cord, like I was going to saw through it with my teeth. Ha! Another yank is what brought my left hand free, but not without tearing a triangle of skin away from my wrist.
The cord dropped to my feet, and I looked around; a woman brushed past me, nearly toppled over my foot and I caught her by the wrist before she went head-over. She violently thrust from my grasp and screamed something at me. Another bout of flames burst from Leviathan’s maw as it circle-dove overhead. The heatwave from the blast exploded across my face so that I recoiled from the sky itself till I was on the ground, and I pushed myself from the earth and ran half dog-like from my place there at the wall. Where? It was hard to say where when every person that touched-by seemed to send me in another direction; in the madness, it was impossible to tell my course.
With time and effort, I found my way to the opening where the hydro towers were, three pillars which rose above Golgotha’s skyline, each one a testament to human resilience—engineers laborers toiled untold hours under Lady’s father to construct them. The hydro towers exploded into rubble as Leviathan slammed into them. Rock rained down as cutting shards and destructive boulders. A man lay beside my feet where he'd been pinned by the onslaught—white concrete kept him there by his chest—he gasped for air and blood already formed around him. In a moment, I looked away at the dying man, his half-whited eyes bulging at me. Meat hung from the left side of another man’s face as he cradled his head in his hand and moved like he was stoned and sat among the stomping feet; he slumped into the spot he sat and did not move till others came by him in a hurry and he simply fell onto his side like a toy animal.
The screams were too much. I looked to the towers, the nubs which had broken away like bad teeth against the red sky, and whole people fell alongside the rubble, limbs and showers of blood and Leviathan latched atop the towers and rocked its massive body so that the structures slipped directly from their foundations and tumbled over like pins. I ran and again there was nothing but chaos, nothing but mind-numbing wilder thoughts—it was grim and there wasn’t a place for coherency; it was all snaps of images.
In the mess of bumbling limbs, I pushed through to the hall of Bosses and there were people there already, rushing the stairs; the ground shook and I assumed it must’ve been the towers. The things demolished all in their path, and briefly, I saw the ramshackle structures which normally stood in their shadows come slanting over and people leapt from those places too and landed poorly and there was a cacophony of tremors through the earth—it felt as though hell should open.
The steps at the base of the hall were flooded and it was a fight to climb them as legs came high up from ahead and swiped at those behind and I kept my hands ahead of me to block whatever foot may come my way.
Wall men stood ready with their rifles at the tops of those steps and fired their weapons indiscriminately into the crowd. Bodies, big and small, piled atop the steps after a brief bullet dance and it came that I wasn’t only climbing stairs, but corpses; the warmth of their flesh as I clawed ahead remained and blood fog hung in the air. That grouping of wall men, casually lined before the doors of the hall were overtaken and they disappeared, their rifles cackled and came alive with muzzle flashes and the animal hands of the horde brought them to ground.
Us, the horde, funneled through those front doors and for a moment, in the thick walls of the hall, the outside world audibly disappeared; the blood and dust remained, but it was quieter save the shuffling feet and cusses of passersby I was carried deeper.
Those that worked the underground went quickly and I followed, and those ignorant followed for the sake of survival and it was not long till we stumbled into the Boss’s lair. With room, people dispersed like water through the tunnels and found dark recesses to tend their wounds or mourn whatever was lost and the explosive open air had been fully replaced by the quiet black oppressive mumbles of people taking stock of all those that had died. And all those that would. Every few moments, the walls shook, and dust fell from the ceiling fixtures.
A few haggard folks moved to the doorway which led to the damp room which led to the kitchen, and they slammed the door shut and latched it and began to check adjacent rooms for things to barricade the way.
“Stop!” said a man in the dim flickering underground light—I was surprised to see the man was me, “Leave it open! Others might need help.” I retraced my steps to the small faction that’d gathered there at the doorway. “You can’t just let them die out there. Let them in.”
“Shut up!” a skinny girl with her hair pulled back on her malnourished skull spoke gruffly; she choked, coughed—dust clung to her clothes—she’d been near the collapse of the hydro towers if I guessed. “Step off, or I’ll—
“Or you’ll what?” I shouted.
The girl put up her fists, two lumpy stones, and in stupid response I closed the distance between us. With speed, her fist met my nose, and I stumbled back on my heel.
Without hesitation, I brought up my own hands and landed a blow to her stomach. She craned forward, gasped on repeat, and took a knee.
Blood wet my upper lip, and I wiped it away with my forearm.
“Move,” I said to the others by the door; there were two: a woman and a boy that was nearly a man.
The boy charged headstrongly, attempted a kick and I easily shoved his small frame against the tunnel wall; the hard metal sounded a meaty thud against his body and the woman launched unseen at me, raked her nails down the back of my neck, and tore at my collar. I kept a forearm to the boy’s throat and rocked his head with my free elbow. Once he wept and spit red, I let him go; the boy slid into a sit and I spun on the woman, shoving her away. My left leg began to give, and I used the wall over the boy’s head as support. I swung at her with a wild claw and my fingertips grazed her nose as she fell away to the opposite wall.
“Stop it!” I shouted.
She launched at me, and my leg gave out under her tackle, and I stumbled half-on the boy, my feet kicked helplessly at her, and the boy regained his composure and began to crawl towards me. We wrestled and then the girl I’d knocked in the gut rejoined the fray. I was done. They had me pinned and spat curses at me and took turns shoving my head into the floor.
“You’re going to get us killed,” shouted the woman, “Are you stupid?”
I grinded my teeth and tried to throw them off; I was overpowered and easily pressed down again.
The overhead lights flickered with another deep earthy vibration and the trio let go of me in an instant—I came up swinging my arms like crazy and as I went to kneel before propelling myself to stand, a hand rested on my shoulder. I spun on the hand and was met with the black mouth of a 9mm pistol—that froze me fast.
The owner of the weapon—a wall man by the look of her fatigues—motioned for me to stand and I did. Her eyes were far off and nervous and the metal shook in her outstretched hand. “Against the wall!” she barked at us; she was small-framed and youthful but full grown, and I could easily push her out of my way if not for the pistol. We went to the wall, and she moved to the door while keeping the gun drawn on us. She watched us and glanced at the door. “It’s latched! Who latched the door?” She asked.
No one spoke. The other three looked to their feet; I initially refused to rat, and snorted blood—my nose throbbed and by touch I could tell it swelled already.
“Well? Why’s it closed?” she asked the question more like a desperate child than a person with control. “C’mon!” The 9mm rolled limply on her wrist as she said the word, like she was attempting to draw the confession from us with the motion.
“There’s an attack. They’re killing everyone,” said the boy.
The girl and woman nodded.
“Who?” asked the wall man.
“Demons, muties,” said the boy, “Big stuff. Everyone’s dying.”
The ground shook as if to emphasize his point.
The wall man studied us for a moment, lingering last on me and for the longest and she took a long breath and let the sigh out dramatically slow. “I know you,” she motioned at me with the gun, “You’re that maniac. The one that tried to murder everyone.” Her eyes fell then returned and she put her weight on the door while maintaining the barrel of the gun eye-level in my direction.
“I ain’t gonna’ hurt anyone,” said. I briefly thought about smiling but decided that’d look worse.
“How do I know that?” she asked.
“Yeah,” said the boy, “He tried to kill us already!” His voice cracked with adolescence; the blood I’d spilled from his mouth coated the front of his holey shirt.
The trio nodded all together—everyone agreed that I was a maniac killer.
“They latched it,” I said, “Cowards.”
A thump came from the other side of the door which frightened the wall man and she leapt from the spot she’d leaned—it took several full seconds to realize her gun went off; there was a flash, and my ears rang. I stumbled from the knot of people and slunk a couple of feet from the space by the door. The girl—the one I gut-punched—collapsed to the floor while holding the right side of her face. The women crowded the girl, panicked, the boy sprinted past me and disappeared deeper into the underground, and the wall man stood there with a wretched blank expression. There was a long moment which hung in the air; I could not hear and then it came back, and it was the girl’s screams I heard first.
Upon stepping to them, I saw the prone girl had been shot just so—through the cheek. Her eyes rolled from likely spinal damage; whatever the angle, it seemed to have ripped through irreparable nerves and she bled a lot. There wasn’t any hope for that girl.
“Well,” I said to the wall man, “Finish it. No reason to make her suffer.”
The girl on the ground writhed unnaturally and caterwauled while the woman by her side attempted to calm her.
Greater became the sound of the belabored hands on the other side of the door; then a hollow-sounding gunshot came from the other side; were they shooting the door? Or each other? Another round—human screams.
The wall man shook her head. “I didn’t mean it. It was an accident.”
I tried to hold the wall man’s gaze, but she didn’t seem able.
With speed, I moved to the wall man, reached for the gun which dangled helpless by her side—her initial response was to flinch, pull the weapon from my reach; our eyes locked and I clenched my jaw. She could’ve killed me. There wouldn’t have been surprise from me if she had.
She let go of the gun and I nodded, and she nodded and the woman kneeling by the girl threw herself over her. “Please,” protested the woman, “Please don’t!”
With the aid of the pistol, I was given space, and nothing was said. I mentally prepared myself for the ringing which accompanied gunfire in small spaces, even tilted my head away with my free palm up and took aim and the girl jerked once then went still.
With the ringing going and sound returning, the drumming on the door returned, as well as the quiet weeps of the woman; she crawled to the wayside of the hall, pressed her back against the wall and rested her chin on her knees with her arms around her shins. She didn’t rock to or fro and hardly made any noise at all. But the small and quiet sobs remained faintly there.
First/Previous
Archive

Hey all, I want to share some general info that I think will help employees better advocate for themselves. I’m writing all of this out on mobile so I apologize for bad formatting. Additionally, there’s so much information regarding this niche topic and I want to do my best to provide adequate information and resources without being burdensome. I would like to do more posts like this that highlights rights in the workplace, so any comments, suggestions are welcome.
First, OSHA enforces health and safety standards for private industry employees and the US postal service. The information in this post is specific to Federal OSHA regulations. Some states have State OSHA plans with health and safety rules that are at least as effective as federal OSHA rules. In regards to who pays for PPE, this distinction is important as some states don’t have exceptions and require the employer to cover the cost for PPE in all circumstances. To see if the state that you occupy has a state OSHA plan, check out the OSHA page here.
OSHA published its Final Rule on PPE payment requirements in 2007, where it made several clarifications. The publication in its entirety can be found here. The final rule applies to all industries under OSHA (except for agriculture).
General requirements for PPE in general industry (where most private employees fall) are found under 1910.132, linked here, and 1926.28 for construction, lined here.
The employer is required to identify hazards in the workplace and to provide controls to those hazards to protect employees. If the employer determines that PPE is required to control hazards/protect employees, the employer is required to provide that PPE at no cost to the employee (though there are exceptions).
PPE “including personal protective equipment for eyes, face, head, and extremities, protective clothing, respiratory devices, and protective shields and barriers, shall be provided, used, and maintained in a sanitary and reliable condition wherever it is necessary by reason of hazards of processes or environment, chemical hazards, radiological hazards, or mechanical irritants encountered in a manner capable of causing injury or impairment in the function of any part of the body through absorption, inhalation or physical contact.” The PPE needs to be adequate in controlling the hazard that it is being used to control, and should be provided in a size that fits the employee.
What does the PPE final rule NOT apply to?
• Uniforms, caps, or other clothing worn solely to identify a person as an employee.
• Items worn to keep employees clean for purposes unrelated to health or safety. Denim coveralls, aprons or other apparel, when worn solely to prevent clothing and/or skin from becoming soiled (dirt).
• Items worn for product safety, consumer safety, or patient safety and health, rather than employee safety and health.
• PPE that is not required by the employer.
Employer is NOT required to pay for: • Non-specialty safety-toe protective footwear (including steel-toe shoes/boots). Specially boots would be those with additional non-slip or electrical protection.
• Non-specialty non-prescription safety eyewear. Specialty safety eyewear would be goggles or glasses rated for laser or welding energy.
• PPE that is permitted to be worn off the job-site.
• Logging boots required by 29 CFR 1910.266(d)(1)(v).
• Everyday clothing, such as long-sleeved shirts, long pants, street shoes, and normal work boots, even when the employer requires employees to use them, and the clothing provides protection. This includes ordinary shoes that are non-slip (those worn in restaurants), even when required by the employer.
• Ordinary clothing, skin creams, or other items, used solely for protection from weather, such as winter coats, jackets, gloves, parkas, rubber boots, hats, raincoats, ordinary sunglasses, and sunscreen.
Exceptions to weather gear payment requirements: • If ordinary weather gear is not sufficient to protect the employee, and special equipment or extraordinary clothing is needed to protect the employee from unusually severe weather conditions, the employer is required to pay for the protection.
• Weather refers to natural conditions, not artificial conditions. So clothing used to protect employees from artificial heat or cold is not included in the exception. Example: freezer warehouse, oil rig in Alaska, firefighting clothing.
If the employer requires employees to keep the following non-specialty items at the workplace, then payment is required: • Safety-toe protective footwear (including non-specialty steel-toe shoes or steel-toe boots).
• Prescription eyeglass inserts for respirator.
• Non-skid safety-toe shoes.
Who pays for PPE when it needs to be replaced? • The employer is required to replace PPE.
• The employer is not required to replace PPE when the employe has lost, stolen, or intentionally damaged the PPE.
Regarding employee-owned PPE: • Where an employee provides adequate PPE that he or she owns, pursuant to paragraph (b) of 1910.132, the employer may allow the employee to use it and is not required to reimburse the employee for that equipment.
• The employer shall not require an employee to provide or pay for his or her own PPE, unless the PPE is excepted by paragraphs (h)(2) through (h)(5) of 1910.132.
• Employee use of own PPE is completely voluntary and can be withdrawn at any time. This means that the employer is still responsible for making sure the PPE is adequate, properly maintained, and sanitary.
• PPE CANNOT BE a condition of employment.
Are reimbursement programs allowable under OSHA? • Yes, reimbursement programs are allowed under the standard. However, those kinds of reimbursement programs should normally not take more than one pay cycle. Bear in mind though, the time to purchase the PPE is not covered as the employer would not be required to pay for the employees time to go and purchase that PPE.
For further exploration, check out the following links: This letter of interruption from OSHA regarding additional clarification on PPE payment responsibilities. This page from the OSHA sitespecific to PPE payments. This hub on the OSHA site on general rights in the workplace. This hub on the OSHA sitethat directs to specific PPE standards from federal OSHA.