The Context:

Silent Hill 2 is a 2001 psychological horror video game from Konami. A trailer was recently revealed for a remake of the game, with updated graphics and gameplay.
Angela Orosco is a character in Silent Hill 2. She is 19 years old, suicidal, and implied to be the victim of sexual assault by her father.
With the release of the trailer for the remake, some have noted changes to character designs and models — specially Angela’s.
Our drama begins when a user posts a screenshot of a reply to a tweet. The original tweet includes Angela’s redesigned model and a “non-woke” edited version. The reply tweet points out that the character is a 19 year-old sexual abuse victim.
Our drama spans over two threads as the new trailer and changes have sparked debate in the sub.

The Drama, Pt. 1

One user objects that the character isn’t real:

She's not real

so ?

So that's not a picture of a 19 year old abuse victim. The outrage isn't based on reality

it IS the picture of a 19 year old abuse victim FROM silent hill, just because she isn’t real doesn’t mean she doesn’t signify or carry a message from the real world

Silent Hill isn't real. The events in Silent Hill 2 never happened

[Continued:]

u really are close minded.. sexual abuse and people dying from diseases, depression, etc does happen irl

I never said that doesn't happen in real life. I said angela sn't real, silent Hill isn't real, and all the events that take place in silent hill 2 are a work of fiction, it's made up, it never happened.

Sure, but that's no reason to justify people reacting like they are. One cannot argue 'None of it's real' while also arguing 'these characters are important to me' or 'I want to invest in this series/game' because the point of the game is for you to immerse and invest in it. You're meant to care about the characters intrinsically, and not about 'what they do for you'. It's absolutely fine to be upset if some 15 year old idiot 'consoomer' whose first thought when he becomes upset about how a female in the game looks responds with "You want my money~! I am your demographic!" makes such an ignorant, room-temperature IQ take like this, and it's fine to let them know why.

I didn't say these characters are important to me. Real people who exist are important to me. People who get emotional about other people having opinions on made up characters must have some deeper issues. This is a subreddit for discussing a video game series, it's not Doctor Phil.

You don't seem to understand the concept of context very well

[Continued:]

The context is that you and some others don't like anything I've said because it hurt your feelings. I understand the context that you are implying, but I want you to find a way to say it before I go on

[…]

It's story telling, dude.

I say this with relief, but most people have not expirienced sexual abuse. Obviously, this is a good thing. However, it's pretty clear these days that empathy for people who have isn't wide-spread. The point of storytelling is broadening horizons, through different perspectives. It should not just be about catering to the audience.

Storytelling is that means of spreading empathy. There is value to the experience it has to share, and regardless of if Angela is real, the experiences she's there to portray are not without inspiration sourced in reality. If your argument is "She's not real. It's not real. Why care?" then you don't get the point of the whole of storytelling. Not just games, like, all of storytelling.

I just want to draw you attention to the OP's post, the original commenter in the image said nothing about SA, it's not mentioned instead the OP brings it up as a shield to prevent any criticism of the characters redesign. That's manipulation, and only an idiot wouldn't see it.

But what about word choice?

Calling someone a “fucking worm” is just as childish as the post they’re criticizing

if someone doesn't want to be called a worm they shouldn't act like a worm. even the engagement bait excuse doesn't work, it's gross behavior.

I would never call someone a disgusting worm but that’s just me 👌

lol ok snowflake
Boo hoo
it's very noble of you to come to the defense of some insane misogynist on twitter

No calling someone a worm is objectively hilarious tbh

”Vulnerable beauty”:

She was still the poster girl for the original SH2. Yes she was a sexual abuse victim but there was a certain vulnerable beauty to her that Team Silent/Konami wanted to convey in that iconic knife closeup shot as well as using her face for the actual cover art of the game.

"abuse victim"
"certain vulnerable beauty"
You actually wrote those two things together mate. Get therapy.

a lot of people who apparently have played and think they like silent hill 2 completely lack the maturity to handle any of the themes of the game apparently. angela's attractiveness should not be part of the discourse around her character at all.

A base level of attractiveness is relevant for almost all characters except Eddie. Thats the uncomfortable truth of human nature.
Attractiveness enhances a character’s charm. It enhances melancholic and profound musical performances, it enhances melancholic and profound movies. See Mazzy Star. See 500 Days of Summer. It wouldn’t have been the same if those musical artists and actors had unappealing annoying faces.

just because you are too shallow to empathize with people you don’t find attractive doesn’t mean everyone’s brain is broken in the same way man.

[Continued:]

This isn’t about me. This is about human nature. Look at the top YouTube comments on a Mazzy Star performance. They are praising her visual beauty. And we all know it feeds into the tenderness of the song. Nobody goes “Wtf is wrong with you- her face has nothing to do with the artistic value of the song!!!” You might call it shallow but it’s nothing to be faulted for. We are human.
Angela’s story is melancholic and profound. But Konami wouldn’t have made her the cover art had she been morbidly obese with a pudgy unappealing face. Nor would we SH2 fans hang the game poster of her on our walls if she was morbidly obese with a pudgy unappealing face. That knife pose shot wouldn’t have been nearly as iconic.
Saying all this stuff is very not PC. But there’s a difference between being bothered by the truth and refusing to accept it as the truth.

[…]

You misunderstand the term “vulnerable beauty”. You’re thinking about it negatively in terms of being taken advantage of. It’s not that. Im talking about tenderness and sorrow that is enhanced by natural beauty- and vice versa.
Go on YouTube and look at all the musical performances of songs about melancholy/ vulnerability/tenderness played by legendary artists. Like “fade into you” by Mazzy Star. The top YouTube comments are full of praises on her natural beauty. We know that aesthetic beauty enhances the artistry and vice versa.
Human nature tends to gravitate toward certain types of faces. It wouldn’t be the same if she had a derpy face. There is a reason why Konami decided to use Angela’s face as the cover art for the original SH2 game. Because her vulnerable beauty is a key component of her character. And her character is a key component of the game.
Even for James. The artistic value would be diminished if James had an ugly douchey and generally unlikeable face.

The Drama, Pt. 2

In a second thread, it is confirmed that this is the character’s final design.
DEI is blamed:

i vision apparently given by a DEI consultancy group named Hit Detection.

Holy shit you people treat DEI like it’s the fucking boogeyman. You realize that most games hire DEI consultancy, and they’re not some evil org pulling the strings changing the game, they almost always just check the game to ensure there isn’t any content that will unintentionally offend people?
It’s not some crazy scheme, it’s literally just checking that the writing has the intended response. It’s proofreading.

Because it is. Go actually read the ideology they are based of. DEI is the new fascism

Jesus, you have no idea what fascism means.
Just use pornhub man, this isn't something to go to war for lmao
You know, I was gonna debate you and use logic and sense, but the moment you threw out “facism” because it’s the buzzword of the day, I knew I’d be trying to debate someone with the IQ of a single cell amoeba

Insult to the single-cell amoebas tbh
Sure. Insult the person and not the argument.
Just so you know, I read most of post modernism general theories. It is amazing how it resembles fascism but just much better worded.
So, if you feel so insulted maybe go actually read the texts about DEI,instead of going hating on people.

[Continued:]

They insulted your argument too though. It's just the same basic rhetoric that everyone who thinks this way speaks. It's like you all subscribe to the same newsletter and read the weekly approved script. It's tiring and a waste of everyone's time, including yours.

Dudes never had an original thought in his life, if he didn't just parrot what the other incels say he wouldn't speak at all and the world would be all the better for it.

[…]

Or you could stop being incel
You didn't make an argumeny. You basically said "DEI is fascist go look it up". I looked it up ages ago when all these gamer dudes started scaremongering and it was the biggest non-issue I've ever seen. Like the whole SBI thing that got debunked fucking instantly. Outrage youtubers just found their new target to farm clicks, that's all.
User from kotakuinaction probably gonna link Jordan Petterson video if you ask for links

[…]

Just say the n word, man. We all know what you mean
Yup. People can stick their heads in the dirt and pretend these firms don't affect character designs but it is what it is.
Oh boy. Fuck DEI. Those people came to ruin games. The same way they ruined the other media.

There are allegations of gaslighting:

I cant with so many people gaslighting themselves into liking this design, OR the horrendous voice acting. So many of you guys are in pure copium mode right now, Just like with the trainwreck that is SH short message. This game looks worse and worse every time they show more of it, and everyone sticking up for the hideous character design and pretending the game looks good only because some of you compare it to the miniscule ps2 era gameplay of the OG isn't going to change how crap this remake's vision is. As someone who encourages people to take risks when it comes to remakes and reboots, I will be open minded. But it’s not looking good.

This sub is deleting any comments or posts that even slightly suggest there is something weird with how she looks. Her face does not look like a normal 19 year old girls and if you think it does your on some of that high dose copium.

People on the sub won't take any form of criticism, they'll just downvote you to doom. Her face is rather uncanny imo. I feel like they could've done it better

I don't mind being down voted. I've expressed my opinion and anyone who disagrees is welcome to express theres. What I do find amusing is the "you're just an incel" cope. These are supposed to be people against sexualization but make fun of other people's sex lives. But this is Reddit, so I'm not expecting anything better.

Comparisons are made:

I agree. If they feel inspired by Quagmire from Family Guy, then they should stick to their vision.

Bait used to be believable

I swear Silent Hill “fans” have to be the most obnoxious, I kinda see why we got nothing for such a long time.

Make Genshin fans look almost sane.

Denial used to be believable. Hit Detection worked on this game and that explains a lot.

”Hideous:

She looks hideous. Can't believe this is what Blooper is doing.

Trust me brother you absolutely look worse than her

Yet you don't know what he or she looks like.
Stand on business and post yourself then lil bro
Sad to see people lack the critical thinking to critique this game. Blooper gave this woman a man jaw and it looks downright ugly. How does a character model from 2001 look better than one from 2024? Goes to show how much team silent cared about their game while blooper is just trying to make a quick buck.

The Flairs:

• “the trend of uglyfying formerly ok looking characters just for the progressive checkmark”
  
• “you’re all shit with your toxic positivity”
  
• “if a female doesn't give them a boner then it's woke”
  
• “theyre mad cuz they cant nut to a trauma victim”
  

[INDEX]
I banked the fire and stared into the golden eyes of Beatale before I crept into my makeshift tent.
I still had my auric vision running and couldn’t help but notice the thin silver cord that ran from me to Horse. Firming up my aura, I reached out with my hand and grabbed it. I could feel the nearly imperceptible vibration between my fingers as I used my mind to probe at the thread. I could feel a bright spark of intellect, a light at the end of a tunnel. Pushing with my mind, I slid down the thread until the spark grew larger and eventually filled my inner vision with a hazy white light. Horsey thoughts nudged at me curiously.
I slid into the haze and immediately lost all sense of direction. If it wasn’t for the silver thread, I’d have no idea how to exit this shifting white fog. Horsey thoughts got stronger as I followed the thread while the haze thinned and cleared to reveal an endless prairie of green grass. I found myself standing before a naked man wearing a horse mask and I stared in shock. It was obviously me wearing a cheap costume horse mask — there was no mistaking my tattoos.
“What did you expect?” Horse neighed at me. “I am you and you are me and we are all together. Goo goo ga joob.”
Horse made a shooing motion with his hands and I accelerated backwards through the white haze and slammed into my own body with a gasp. I stared at the tarp overhead for a long minute, processing this new revelation. Horse was a part of me, a piece of my spirit. Whatever psychic stuff I did with that silver cord lead me into a house of mirrors where I got to look at myself pretending to be a horse. I can’t even deal with that right now.
Rolling into my blankets, I dropped off to sleep.
*Ding*
-=- - Welcome to the Dreamworld - Included in the Psychic Skills pack, the Inner Sanctum is your psychic domain. It is the mental fortress that you must secure and maintain to defend against psychic and spiritual assaults. All of your neurosis and fears are symbolised in this realm and must be defeated or subjugated before you can become master of the domain. Good luck. -=-
I banished the pop-up and looked around. I knew I was asleep, but everything was just as real as when I was awake. I was breathing, I could feel the floor under my feet, and if it weren’t for the pop-up, I would have sworn I had been teleported. The room I was in resembled an oversized luxury prison cell, maybe a thirty foot cube. No windows. Rough stone walls with thick mortar. Large brass wall sconces were set directly into the stone and suffused the room with a warm, golden light provided by glowing rocks. The stone floor had colourful Persian rugs tastefully placed. A high plaster ceiling was painted with a rendition of Michelangelo’s ‘Creation of Adam’, depicting me as both Adam and God.
There was a comfy sofa in front of a large screen television that hung from one wall and an ornate grandfather clock ticked loudly in the corner. It was currently 10:08 PM. Another wall was a floor to ceiling bookshelf, stuffed with books of varying sizes. The third wall was covered with pictures and I could see at a glance that they were images from my life. The fourth wall had a thick riveted steel door on the right side, a full sized mirror on the left, and a computer workstation in the middle.
The picture wall was my first target. A few were quite large, nearly life sized, while others were tiny prints no larger than the palm of my hand. Scenes of my life were displayed in each one. The largest was me riding Horse with a shit-scared expression, shooting at a pack of wolves. Others were smaller, each with different frames. Some ornate gold or silver, others plain wood, a few wrapped in briars or barbed wire. Nanny Ramsey holding me as a young child. My dog Jean with a red ball in his mouth. My parents, screaming at me. I turned my attention to the books. Books are safe. Books don’t judge you.
The sweet, musty scent of a used book store filled my nostrils as I drew close to the honey coloured shelves. Hundreds of volumes filled the wall from floor to ceiling, with a ladder that could be rolled along a rail to access the top. I smiled at the sight. I had always wanted a library like this. I pulled a book at random and read the title, “Confused Fantasies about Joseph Harris, part XXIV of the Middle School Years”.
I slid the book back onto the shelf. Let’s see what’s on TV.
The remote was a slim, futuristic looking affair with a minimum of buttons. I pointed it at the television and moments later the huge screen came to life and presented me with a simple menu for movies, divided into six categories: Happy, Surprised, Afraid, Disgusted, Angry, and Sad. I scrolled through the offerings for a minute, reading the titles and reviews about the movies of my life. It really bothered me that there were so few selections in the Happy section.
The number of Sad movies increased by one.
I walked over to the mirror and noticed there was a small sticky note pasted to it. “Astral Realm. Experienced users only.” I shoved the note in my pocket and stared at my image. Sturdy black boots, black denim jeans and shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons, deep brown gun belt slung at my hip, red bandanna and black felt hat. All I needed was a pencil moustache and I would look like the stereotypical villain in any spaghetti western. At that very moment I decided to grow out a goatee. I’d rather be mistaken for a bad guy than a victim.
So how does this astral realm thing work?
The mirror appeared to be nothing more than a mirror. It was cold, smooth glass surrounded by a wrought iron frame, and reflected my image. I didn’t necessarily want to go walking into danger, but I wanted to know how it worked. I pushed and prodded the glass in frustration until I noticed my image grinning at me. I jumped back in surprise and it doubled over in silent laughter.
“Hilarious, dude. You got me,” I huffed. “So how do I get in?”
My mirror-self tipped his hat and stepped to side.
I reached up to the mirror again and my hand passed through, vanishing as if cut off. Okay, just a quick peek and we’ll explore the rest of the room. I stepped through and the world shifted around me. I was standing back at the campsite. My body was insubstantial as a ghost and the tarp was a wisp of substance running straight through me. Non living things don’t seem to have much presence in this realm. Glancing down, I saw my sleeping body rolled up in the blankets, a thin silver thread running from it to me, and another thread running to Horse.
Looking around, I surveyed the campsite. My astral vision seemed to be on and had an unlimited range. I could see the life all around me, the distant forest was a sea of greenish-gold, grasses and brush nearby glowed with spectral light. Tiny ghost insects scurried while ghost mice nibbled at whatever ghost mice nibble on. Ghost seeds and ghost insects, I suppose. I turned my attention overhead and gaped at the sight of a monstrous serpentine spirit flying through the inky void. I dropped back through the tent and rolled inside my body. That was plenty enough for now.
I rolled through the mirror and landed flat on my back, staring at the fresco on the ceiling. Vinnie-God winked at me and Vinnie-Adam grinned. Climbing to my knees, I brushed non-existent dust from my trousers and watched mirror-me doubled over in soundless laughter.
“Hey, laughing-boy!” I yelled at him. “You’re like the guardian or something, right? You got it covered?”
Mirror-me stood and saluted with a smile, then gave me two thumbs up. A moment later, his face took on a serious expression and he wriggled his right hand in the ‘maybe’ motion. Then he pointed at me, tapped his wrist, and then a finger to his head.
It all depends on how fast I learn stuff, I guess.
Two thumbs up and a winning smile reflected back to me.
A large cork board was mounted to the wall over the computer and a small note was pinned to it. “Note to self: Don’t fuck with the Elvish womens.”
The computer screen featured a screensaver of me as Vitruvian Man doing callisthenics over the words ‘HumanOS’. I tapped the spacebar and was rewarded with the sound of powerful fans kicking to life as the computer emerged from sleep mode and prompted me for a password. Should I assume it’s the same as the password on the computer I pawned in my previous life?
Password: *******esi
I was rewarded with a sweet R&M desktop and a couple of icons. System, NeuralNet, My-Tunes, My-Movies, My-Office.
System was just what I expected, lots of .dna files and other confusing scariness that allowed me to tweak my physical body and mental state. My-Tunes was a collection of every song I’d ever heard and My-Movies was a collection of every movie I’d ever seen. Not that I’m complaining, but it would have been nice to have “My-Games” so I could play RDR. My-Office was a clone of the popular software by a similar name. I have no idea what I’ll ever need a spreadsheet for in this world.
NuralNet opened up a search engine called Me-Seeks, featuring a familiar blue guy.
I typed in “beer” and several thousand results were displayed, anything I’d ever read, heard, or watched about beer, including how to make it. This right here made the price of admission totally worth it, access to an exact copy of everything I’d ever read, and I was a voracious reader. Sadly, most of the stuff I read was futurology — solar panels, electronics, biotech advancements, quantum computing. The material for steam engines, blacksmithing, farming and the like, were slim pickings. That’s okay though, I could still reproduce the Gutenberg press, the cotton gin, simple internal combustion engines, and basic batteries along with some sketchy knowledge of metal alloys, acids, bases, and other things I had read over the years. All that wasted time watching “How Things Work” was finally going to pay off. I copied a few likely money makers to My-Office, saved the file, and exported to my Notes, just in case they didn’t exist on Aerth.
A popup covered the screen.
📱 [New Upgrade Available!] 📱
🎉 Enhance Your Experience with the Latest HumanOS Features! 🎉
🌟 Features Include:

• 🧠 Memory Booster: Increase your Memory for smoother multitasking and improved performance.
• 🔋 Energy Optimizer: Extend your battery life with advanced power-saving techniques.
• 🛠️ Utility Upgrades: Access new apps and utilities to enhance your daily life and adventures.
• 🗺️ Advanced Mapping: Never get lost again with enhanced GPS and location tracking.

🔥 Special Offer: Only 2000 credits for version 2.0 or 5000 credits for version 3.0! 🔥
[Upgrade Now ✅] [Remind Me Later ❌]
Apparently I could upgrade myself, which reduced the cost of using my Utilities while providing other minor benefits. My Utilities would level up as I used them, which would increase their battery cost, so if I didn’t keep pace with an update to the OS they could become prohibitively expensive to operate.
Stupid pay-to-win world.
So, do I pay 2000 credits for version 2.0 or 5000 credits for version 3.0?
I selected version 3.0 and klicked [Install]. After watching it download the update, it popped up another screen that asked if I wanted to update now, or wait until Midnight for the mandatory update.
I selected [No] just as the grandfather clock chimed 10:30 PM. I wondered if time ran slower in here, because it seemed like I had spent a lot more time on the computer than 15 minutes. Walking over to the imposing steel door, I noticed a bronze key with a thin chain in the lock. There was another sticky note on the door. “Subconscious. Please keep the key with you at all times.”
That’s not scary at all, is it?
I unlocked the door with a loud clunk and pulled it open to reveal a bedroom straight out of some royal castle. I could tell immediately that it had seen better days. The tapestries on the wall were frayed and fading. The canopy over the bed had a few holes in it. A thin layer of dust covered the mantle of a small fireplace set into the wall. There was a window letting in bright sunlight and I moved over to look outside.
I was on the third floor of a keep surrounded by the walls and turrets of a modest castle. A castle that had fallen into serious disrepair. Did this represent the state of my inner mind? One tower was shattered and the curtain wall under it damaged. The lower bailey was full of litter. I could see a few soldiers walking around the allure, keeping watch.
I have people in my subconscious?
Someone behind me cleared their throat.
Whirling, I discovered a familiar old man standing in the door of the bedroom. What was left of his hair formed a white halo around his head, his face was unshaven and covered with several days of growth. He was dressed like a poor and tattered manservant, but carried himself with a dignified air.
“Woodhouse?”
“It’s nice to see the master at home,” He said with a proper English accent. “There are many matters that require the master’s attention.”
“Uh, sure,” I said, hanging the key around my neck and tucking it in my shirt. “And who are you again?”
“Your personal manservant, of course” he said with a slight bow. Walking over to the steel door, he pulled it closed and it locked with a solid thunk. “Master should always keep his inner sanctum closed. One never knows if something nasty will creep in.”
“Thank you, uh, Woodhouse. I’ll remember that,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “So what needs tending and how do things work around here?”
He smiled and beckoned me with a white gloved hand. “If master would be so kind as to follow me, I’ll introduce him to the staff and explain the duties and obligations of his domain.”
I’m 99.9% certain that everyone here is just me wearing a mask, so I shrugged and followed Woodhouse out of the bedroom and into the rest of my subconscious.
Five minutes later I was on the ground floor and seated on a shabby throne with the cast of a popular —and probably very copyright protected— animation in front of me. Woodhouse was the head butler and my personal manservant. Pam was the cook and demanded that I start importing sugar and alcohol before she was shushed by Woodhouse. Carol was a maid. Krieger was chancellor and Cyril was the steward. Archer and Lana were in charge of security. Ray was the marshal in charge of everything from the stables to the blacksmith.
I stared in disbelief at the motley crew kneeling in front of me. No wonder my inner mind was in such shambles. I was overcome with an irrational sense of anger at myself.
“Arright, listen up,” I barked, my voice echoing around the room. “I swear to God that I will fire every single one of you and hire circus clowns to replace you if you keep fucking things up. No joke. Circus clowns, got it?”
I ran a hand over my face as Ray pissed himself. “The only reason I’m not putting a boot in your asses right now is because I realise that you’re aspects of me, and the people you represent are pretty damn good at their jobs when they give enough of a shit to actually do them. As a team, you’re dysfunctionally fantastic and always seem to come out ahead no matter the odds.”
Heaving a sigh, I continued. “Things have changed and I need to get my shit together. I’m going to need every one of you to pull your weight and help me help you. Get back to your duties, I’ll meet you one on one later.”
My subconscious caretakers scurried out of the room.
“I’ll have one of the maids tend to the piss,” Woodhouse assured me.
“Never mind that,” I snapped. “I honestly had no idea my mind was such a shit show. I’m very disappointed in myself.” I pictured the Angry, Sad, and Disgusted counters on my personal movies clicking up. “Show me what needs to be done and let’s get started.”
During Woodhouse’s walking tour, everything clicked into place. This was some altered version of Bodiam castle, a location that was on my bucket list of places to visit. The royal council room, located behind the throne room, contained a “living” tapestry on the wall that showed the castle and surrounding land in real time. The castle was located in the middle of a small lake, and a single wood bridge led to the mainland. A small town surrounded the lake and a wall encircled the town. Outside the wall, the land was an irregular patchwork of forest and field, with a stinking swamp to the south. The entire “kingdom” was maybe ten miles across, surrounded by impassable mountains with innumerable creeks that fed the lake which drained into the southern swamp.
“Zombies are the problem, sir.” Woodhouse said, as I surveyed the living tapestry of my mental domain.
“Zombies?” I prompted.
“Yes sir, Zombies” Woodhouse continued. “Nasty bitey things that come in from the mountains and harass the peasants. They’ve gotten especially worse over the last few months. The soldiers do what they can, but they seem to have lost all motivation. Probably because they haven’t been paid.”
“And who pays them?”
“Typically chancellor Krieger is in charge of financial matters, although Steward Figgis has taken over the duty, sir.”
“Then let’s make Figgis our first stop.”
“Very good, sir.”
The office of the steward was run by Cyril Figgis, who managed the kingdom in my absence. It was overflowing with paperwork and charts, books and scrolls piled high on every flat surface. Cyril was desperately attempting to tidy things when Woodhouse and I walked in.
“Yo..you..your majesty,” Cyril stuttered, bowing low. Scrolls fell from his overloaded arms, spilling across the floor. He dropped to his knees and scrambled to gather them up. “I didn’t expect you to visit so soon. Please forgive the mess, housekeeping has been slacking…”
This was the guy who ran things while I was conscious.
“Shut up, Cyril” I said. “You’re responsible for everything in this office. That includes keeping it organised and tidy.”
“Y..yes milord.”
“It’s my understanding that you’re in charge of making sure everyone gets paid. So why aren’t we paying people?” I asked.
“We’re nearly out of Fuks, your majesty. I’ve been saving them for emergencies.”
“Fucks?”
“Fuks,” Cyril explained, pushing a pile of books off a large chest and opening it. Reaching inside he pulled out two small bags and emptied them on top of his cluttered desk. “Gold and Silver Fuks, the currency of the kingdom. I can’t maintain the kingdom when I have no Fuks to give.”
Behold the subconscious kingdom of Vincent J. Carter, it runs on Fuks.
“So how do I get more fuks?” I asked, examining one of the coins. It had an image of me on one side and symbol on the other that could be interpreted as “peace among worlds”.
“You kill the zombies, your majesty.”
Of course I do.
Woodhouse and I left Cyril’s office and headed towards the office of the chancellor where Krieger worked. It seemed that Cyril took over financial matters when Krieger became erratic and proposed luring all the zombies into the city and setting it on fire. Not sure how that corresponds to my own self-destructive behaviour, but I’ve had some dark thoughts over the last couple of months and I’m sure they’re reflected here.
Krieger’s office was much neater in comparison to Cyril’s, but it wasn’t by much. Shelves lined the walls and were filled with an array of questionable items, including a still snapping zombie head in a jar. While the office of the chancellor was supposed to be in charge of financial matters, it looked more like a dodgy rummage sale.
Krieger was launching sword blades at a pig carcass when we walked in.
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, standing in the doorway.
“Hm? Oh, your majesty!” he said, turning around and bowing deeply. “I’m testing a new invention. It’s a spring loaded hilt that shoots sword blades. Very useful for our soldiers.”
“Stupidest idea ever,” I snapped. “I hate everything about it.”
“Okay,” Krieger said, tossing the hilt into a nearby pile of junk. “But don’t blame me when you need to shoot a sword at a zombie and don’t have one.”
“So why aren’t you managing the financial affairs? Collecting taxes, paying people, stuff like that?”
“Because the population has declined so much none of that matters?”
“What do you mean?”
“Wellll, the population represents things you care about,” Krieger said, going into lecture mode. “And the zombies and other monsters are real or imagined problems in your way. Since you don’t care about too many things the population has shrunk to just what’s needed to keep everything running on the bare minimum of fuks. And since you don’t seem to have any long or short term goals, there’s no need to kill off the zombies and get more fuks. Everything is fine just the way it is.”
“No, it’s not Krieger” I said, grinding my teeth. “My mind is in a shambles. It’s a joke. I want it fixed. No, I want it better than fixed. I want it improved.”
“Oh! I’ve got just the thing for that!” He said, digging around in his pockets, “It’s a spring-loaded hilt that shoots swords!”
Pam and Cheryl were hanging out a gallery window jeering at Archer and Lana sparring in the inner courtyard.
“What the hell are you doing!” I snapped
They whirled in surprise and then dropped into deep curtseys.
“Your majesty!”
I took a deep breath, trying to regain my centre. “Get to work cleaning this place up. Find a room, clean it, and move on to the next. Start with my bedroom, then the throne room and the council chamber, then everything else.”
Cheryl spoke up. “Can’t do it. We got no fuks to clean with.”
“You need fuks to clean?”
“Gotta buy stuff,” Pam said. “Cleaning supplies, food. You wanna eat, you’re gonna have to spend some fuks.”
“Talk to Cyril,” I ordered. “Tell him I said to get you supplied.”
They ran off in the direction of the stewards office.
I watched Archer and Lana bashing each other enthusiastically through the window.
Several minutes later the sparring couple stopped and bowed when Woodhouse and I stepped into the inner courtyard.
“Your majesty”
“My liege”
“Enough,” I said. “If you have enough energy to smash each other, you have enough energy to smash zombies. Tell me what I need to know so I can start gathering fuks.”
Archer shrugged and spoke first. “You just kill the zombies and other monsters. They drop fuks.”
“Anything special about the zombies?” I asked. “Are they fast? Do people get turned into zombies when bitten?”
“Nope,” Lana said, resting her wooden sword on her shoulder. “Most of them are slow shamblers and just need a good wack to the head to kill them.”
“Some are special,” Archer interjected. “Occasionally you’ll have some fast ones, or those that need holy water to kill. They’re just bad memories, figments of your personality that need to be eliminated. Some are worse than others.”
“The zombies are bad memories?” I asked, imagining all the bad memories that I had.
“Memories, thoughts, insecurities, metaphysical mumbo-jumbo,” Woodhouse supplied. “They are endless, but constant vigilance can keep them under control.”
“So let’s get started,” I said. “Lead the way.”
Lana and Archer lead me up to the parapet over the front gate where I looked over at the dozens of zombies milling about aimlessly in front of the entrance to my mind. Pulling out my gun, I began to pick them off, easy as shooting fish in a barrel. The crack of my spell pistol attracted more zombies and I dispatched them with ease until no more were left around the gate. As I fired each shot I could feel some sort of existential energy flowing from me, draining some hidden reserve.
“Gather up the Fuks,” I commanded. “And Lana?”
“Mi’lord?”
“There’s no excuse for this. From now on, I expect the walls to be clear of all zombies.”
“Yes mi’lord,” she said, giving me a small bow.
Turning to Archer, I shook my head. “You’re obviously my personal narcissism, so just try to stay out of Lana’s way, or better yet - try to kill more zombies than her. If you think you can.”
Archer scoffed. “No contest. I took top marks in sharpshooting.”
“That means I should expect to see results by tomorrow. I look forward to it.”
Archer looked panicked for a moment then smiled. “Sure, I can give you results.”
Turning back to Woodhouse I said “Show me what else need attending.”
Woodhouse led me through the town that represented my mind, pointing out each business that had fallen into disrepair, suggested others that needed improvements, and additions that would benefit me. In the distance, I could hear Lana and Archer shooting at the crowd of zombies and with each echoing shot I felt a tiny bit better about everything.
[INDEX]

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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
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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!

For context, I'm trans and pass really well. Been on T for years, got short hair, flat chest, and facial hair.
Now, all of a sudden I had a coworker go up to me in the office saying "hey OP it's SOOOO cool that youre trans I had NO idea!!!" and i was like. what. what the fuck?
I basically said "ohh! uhm. Can I ask who told you because thats not information that's public whatsoever and the only one that's supposed to know is [Managers name]."
The coworker told me who had told her, and explained more of their conversation. The first coworker wasn't asking, and literally didn't think I was until you know. the other coworker just told her and volunteered that information to her.
For more context, she told me more of what the conversation was. To me, she literally offered the information for no reason and made no sense.
A: oh my goodness at the meeting a few days ago I said "your haircut is cute" to OP and maybe I should've have said that, maybe I should have said handsome or something. B: oh? why? he said thank you and looked happy about it. A: You don't know? OP used to be a girl and is just transgender now. So,, maybe he wouldnt like me calling his hair cute. A: omg i didnt know! [then they just talked about my "transness" for a while. eugh.]
So yeah then they talked about it further, for however long just AT work where others could hear, it makes me so uncomfortable and livid to think about. The meeting was 4 days ago, and based on working with this woman for a year now, I don't actually believe that she would feel bad about "complimenting someone the wrong way." She makes very passive aggressive comments all the time, about people in the office as well as clients/guests. I'm not saying this to make her out to be villain and me a perfect angel, but I genuinely don't believe she feels bad about making comments about someone, When I've worked with her, she enjoys the act of complimenting a guest on something, then the moment theyre out of earshot this coworker will say "hahha ew did you see [thing she complimented] it was so weird."
If the person was genuinely empathetic, I would be more understanding if I knew they really weren't sure and felt bad. Still doesn't excuse telling someone randomly, but if she asked me or kept it between us I wouldn't be hostile at all.
And then, for the first time in YEARS, I was misgendered by a completely different coworker. How. What. At the point of how I look and how I've worked here for years and haven't been misgendered. Now suddenly I get called "she" by a coworker out of nowhere.
Then I went and asked about it later saying like "hey no worries we all make mistakes, I'm a guy though so "she" isn't really what people call me lol." and then this third coworker said "oh yeah Im sorry, had no idea you were trans and that stuff is so confusing lol." and then later in the conversation she said "oh yeah before I just thought you were a regular guy, not a trans people"
Cool. great. Previously, we had no issue and she never called me she. I didnt tell her I was trans, and now suddenly she's using the wrong pronouns on accident and told me that she knew I was trans.
The ONLY person I have ever told was my manager, because my name wasn't legally changed yet/payroll stuff.
I'm angry, really upset and feel terrible at work now. It feels like everyone's looking at me different. Even if they aren't and its in my head, people revealing to me that they know im trans is REALLY upsetting when I pass completely, and do NOT offer that information anywhere.
I haven't told anyone about this yet, and haven't taken any action except for venting to my non-coworker friend about it.
What the hell do I do? I know I'm planning on at least having a meeting with my manager about it, but I have no idea what it will accomplish or if my manager can even do anything. I'm just upset and don't know what to do.

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The following two brain scans were provided by the Neuro-Warfare branch of the Halcyon Security Division (HSD) for the purpose of analyzing the thoughts, behaviors, and information of notorious gangsters Vincent 'Troy' Cohen and Bruno (Deadname: Koraak Tel-Char). At the point of the recording of this archival shared, Bruno has since received his rebirth therapy, and Vincent is currently serving a long-term rehabilitative and reeducative sentence in the Erebus Supermax Prison on Io.
Warning: the contents of this archival shared may be especially disturbing to some audiences. Viewer discretion is advised.
Warning: the contents of this archival shard are for the sole purpose of analyzing the thought patterns and memories of certain degenerate criminals in an effort to ascertain vital information that can be used to eliminate their organizations. Only staff with clearance level Omega may view this archival shared, and the viewership of this archival shared by anyone of inadequate clearance level will lead to twenty years in prison and a fine of over a hundred thousand credits.
Booting up memory scan: Vincent 'Troy' Cohen, November 4th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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"Do you have visuals of the target, Troy?"
I knelt down in the alleyway, the bodies of me and my partners shrouded in long, waterproof, ashen-gray overcoats the shade of dirty street scum that we wore to ward off the constant heavy rainfall the color of osmium. Our faces were covered in a mix of scrapped respirators, visors, or full metal face masks carved with intricate designs to hide our identities. On our waists were our badges of honor: leather belts studded with interlocked rivets made from blackened titanium, each buckle forged of silver and shaped into the head of our gang's symbol, the black mamba. We hid amongst the shadows of the dark midday of Halcyon City, the heavy, oppressive rains blanketing the roads paved obsidian-black with asphalt and weathered concrete walkways. The street lamps were always on, like beacons of false hope in a storm of melancholy.
The city was dark and dreary as always, the planet of Proxima Centauri B, renamed Dawn's Lamentation over a century ago, orbited the red dwarf star of Proxima Centauri, and the atmosphere was thick with natural smog and ever-storming rain clouds. That didn't dissuade people from living here: there was plenty of money to be had for shrewd industrialists and hardworking pioneers, even in the urban sprawl. But that life also came with risks, especially for those on the bottom of the totem pole.
I was a ganger, and we were criminals; full stop. I won't assault you with some spiel about how we're the good guys fighting oppression because, at the end of the day, we could be just as bad, if not worse, than Halcyon's Security Division, or the HSD for short. We were traffickers, killers, extortionists, and money launderers. We dealt with everything from stolen tech and military-grade hardware to hard drugs and sentients.
Yes, sentients. We trafficked sentients, but not in the way you might think. They weren't prisoners, in fact, we were their saviors if they had the cash. We had developed a reputation for fighting the power, but it was still business: sure, freeing captives from the clutches of the Protectorate. The disruption of its many oppressive organizations held a certain satisfaction in my heart for sure, but we didn't help those who couldn't pay unless someone else paid on their behalf. It was about making sure me and my gang, my family, could live a decent life for another day.
It helped that most of us joined after leaving the state yard for partaking in acts of 'degeneracy' and 'anti-xenopet illegalities' as if those terms meant anything anymore other than that we were a threat to the local status quo. It was hard to pick up a job as a former inmate when even in something as harsh and backbreaking as a job in the iridium mines near the poles when the employment office had you blacklisted as a degenerate, which lead to the formation of many of the gangs: we needed to make a living somehow, and when all social programs were cut off from you unless you submitted for 're-education' and the only way to put food on the table was subverting, breaking, or even downright fighting the law, you did what you had to do or you died on the streets a scorned beggar.
It wasn't like the HSD made it easy for us on even a good day: the local HSD units were armed to the teeth with advanced, military-grade hardware that you'd often see on the front lines of the Second Authority War: armored assault transports, a myriad of advanced war droids, all sorts of chemical countermeasures that made tear gas seem like putting the garden hose on mist mode, and of course advanced firearms. Add that to the fact that they were authorized to use deadly force when they deemed it necessary and you had a ruthless, heartless, and nearly unstoppable enemy. But we could make that work: we weren't trying to stop them, just to withstand them.
"Yeah, I got eyes on the prize, Koraak; seven armored transports, two for droids, five for prisoners."
Today wasn't a day for a normal job: we were getting bolder, cockier, more ambitious. Our numbers had swelled for the last few years after the raid at Barnard's Star and the fall of the Blood Dragon Mafia. Their leader, Saito Yasuhide, had committed seppuku as their manor burned, and his twin sons had gone down fighting rather than allowing themselves to be captured simply to face a firing squad. In the aftermath, many of the family's associates had fled to the surrounding systems, and with the sheer size and scope of the criminal underworld found here, it was no wonder that many people who had developed skills of the less legal variety had decided to form ranks with the gangs, and with them they brought guns, tech, knowledge, contacts, and even something that we thought wasn't possible beforehand: a semblance of peace between the gangs, or at least the closest thing to peace that gangs could cultivate effectively. With the fall of the Blood Dragons, we saw the writing on the wall, and the writing couldn't have been clearer: work together or die together.
"Sounds like a massacre, Troy: are you sure we can handle seven?"
"We ain't got no choice, Cinder: this job's double the usual rate, and that's not including the weapons and gear we could scrounge if this goes well," I hissed, my eyes scanning for any resistance. There were at least four guards for each van, not to mention at least eight droids in total, meaning that we were already outnumbered, but we had the element of surprise: we could make it work. "So put your balls in your purse and get ready to spill some blood."
Koraak snorted at our antics, which sounded like someone pulling the ripcord on a lawnmower. He was a veteran Russu Corsair, and while his past of slaving, raiding, and killing was unsavory, so were the lives we'd lived, so who were we to judge? All we cared about was that he was a brutal and capable fighter and a loyal brother in arms. It turned out that being a ganger wasn't much different from being a Corsair: you lived and died by a code of honor, you fought to the death for your brothers, and you lived to die for the sake of your gang and your family, simple as that. In a strange, ironic way, it was an incredibly honest way of life: we were under no illusions as to what we were, what we did, and why we did it, and we'd long since accepted it. The Russu related to us in that aspect, in many ways I could respect, which is why I hated what the Protectorate was doing, and why I couldn't grasp how most of humanity could just collectively lose their marbles so long ago. What had happened for us to deem all other life below us in such a demeaning and infantilizing way?
The Russu were a race of tall, muscle-bound Saurians with avian features, and Koraak was no exception: reaching almost seven feet in height and weighing over four hundred and fifty pounds, he could be an absolute menace if he so desired. His skin was covered in stubby, knobby scales and dense plumage, with elegant feathers adorning the ridges along his back as well as his forearms, elbows, knees, and the crests on his head. He almost looked like how paleontologists described velociraptors, with razor-sharp talons, feathers shaded in vibrant greens, reds, and purples, and a maw full of sharp teeth, but at the tip of his snout was a sharp, beak-like growth meant for ripping flesh off the bone.
The Russu were strange as hell, but they also looked almost cute in the same way a fully grown alligator was cute: they were obviously dangerous, but humans would always have this innate desire to anthropomorphize them and to pet them for some inexplicable reason, although common sense usually prevented that, at least amongst the very few of us left that were sane.
"Shut up, Troy! All I'm saying is that that'll be rough, and you know it," hissed Cinder. Cinder was a tall black man whose coffee-colored skin was covered in tattoos. He wore an ebony mechanic's jumpsuit with metal inserts underneath his grimy overcoat covering his body and a faded black respirator on his face. His eyes were a startling blue that seemed sorely out of place, and his hair was braided into thick cornrows along his scalp. He wore a pair of heavy black combat boots and palmed his compact shotgun in his hands, the square barrel less than seven inches. Like a lot of the weapons the Black Mambas carried on their persons and dealt in, they fired caseless ammunition; in Cinder's case it was 16x40mm caseless shotshells filled with depleted uranium micro-flechetes no thicker than a toothpick. Cinder nervously fiddled with the detachable tube magazine underneath the barrel, his hands shaking. Despite the shit I have him, I didn't blame him for being anxious: I was anxious too, even if I refused to show it. The biting cold of unease and pessimism was in my stomach, and I ran all the way that this job could go wrong in my head over and over.
"Just hold yourself together, this ain't anything we haven't done before, there's just more of it," I reassured Cinder, "besides, we're not alone; we have reinforcements across the street. We'll make it out of this alive."
Cinder nodded almost absentmindedly, his eyes downcast and his breathing shallow. I turned from him and back to Koraak, who was making sure he had everything on his person; he had a synthetic leather bandoleer across his chest that contained the heavy eight guage depleted uranium slugs he kept loading and unloading into his much larger, longer, and more traditional shotgun he nicknamed ‘carnage’ and several leather straps that held his Tu'shan daggers: traditional Russu pyramidal blades forged from a silvery alloy with all three edges serrated and the tip barbed to leave behind horrible, gaping wounds that gushed blood. They were wickedly sharp and absolutely straight like a stiletto, and the hilts and pommels were beautifully decorated. He wore no clothes underneath his overcoat to cover the countless scars and blemishes he's earned in combat across his chest and abdomen, and instead of a normal respirator or visor, he simply wore a hood over his head and some traditional Russu facial armor to protect his mouth, eyes, and cheeks.
"You ready to fight, Koraak? The caravan will pick up and leave soon."
Koraak was silent for a moment before nodding, a human gesture he had picked up after serving as a soldier with the Black Mambas for years. "I'm always ready to fight," he said before lifting up his shotgun and aiming down the sights at the reinforced front wheels of the first armored car in the caravan. He exhaled and fired, the slug ripping through both front tires and causing them to deflate and fall apart. The echo of the shot rang through the alleyway and the street, causing pedestrians to panic and flee the scene as heavily armored guards poured out of the side doors of the armored cars and unholstered their carbines.
"Go, now!" I shouted, and both me and Cinder rushed out into the fray, our guns raised. Koraak was right behind the two of us, providing covering fire with his shotgun. Several guards fell quickly, Koraak's precise fire and the sheer force of the depleted uranium slugs putting them down for good as their heads were vaporized or their chest cavities were turned to mush. He emptied the tube with one final shot that painted the grey matter of a security guard on the door of one of the armored cars, then racked the shotgun and expertly loaded it in threes, his hands deft and agile as he reached for more slugs faster than any human.
With the cacophony of our initial assault, more Black Mambas poured out from the alleyways and the subways, armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons; shotguns, submachine guns, pistols, machetes, baseball bats, and all manner of homemade explosives. Molotovs and more potent concoctions shattered against the asphalt, herding in the caravan guards with their volatile contents as they were quickly gunned down. The assault was working, and we were winning.
Then I heard the robotic whine of a combat droid activating, and my heart sank. One of the armored cars in the back activated the four combat droids it held, the robotic assault units detaching from their charging ports on the sides of the large van and began to form up, each armed with a terrifying array of deadly weapons meant to quash any and all resistance. They were blocky, soulless, utilitarian things that stood at eight feet tall, with flat feet meant for stomping and blades, grasping claws designed to lacerate flesh and shatter bone. On each shoulder was a weapon: on the left was a multi-barrel rotary grenade launcher loaded with 15mm concussion grenades, and on the right was a burst-fire splinter cannon. They were all painted a dull grayish-green, the color of Halcyon's Security Division, although some had a few decorations on them: the one closest to me had a bit of graffiti on the side that said Mr. Hugs in Comic Sans, which I couldn't decide whether that made it more or less terrifying. They split up without hesitation and began to scan the chaotic battlefield, their single, red, beady lenses the security forces had the gall to call eyes focusing on specific targets to eliminate.
An entire group of Black Mambas was torn to pieces by a cloud of flechettes as one of the droids fired a withering three-round burst of shotshells from the four gauge splinter cannon mounted on its shoulder. Another picked up a Black Mamba in its hand and crushed her skull effortlessly before tossing her limp body to the side, its single, red, remorseless robotic eye tracking a new target. Most bullets that struck their thick armored chassis simply bounced off, and those that could pierce the armor didn't seem to phase the droids whatsoever, merely notifying them of a new potential target.
"Damnit," I shouted as I gunned down another guard only for two more to take his place. "Cinder! We gotta pop open the cars and scram! Get the maglock cutters!"
Cinder rushed and slid over through a dirty puddle, pulling out a maglock cutter from the inside of his coat and slipping it onto the back door of the first van. It immediately went to work, drilling through the maglock with a high-powered plasma torch nozzle, and within ten seconds we heard the telltale clunk of the maglock separating. I yanked the door open and ordered I side, ready to escort the prisoners out… only for my face to contort in shock and horror.
The back was empty. There was not a single soul inside of the back brig of the armored car.
"What the fuck…" Cinder gasped, his eyes wide with shock. "What the actual fuck… what the fuck is this, Troy?"
"I… I don't…" I stuttered the sounds of battle and carnage drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in my ears. All five cars were supposed to be filled with recently captured Russu from the front lines ready to be housed in the local Xenopet-Megaplex for processing and conditioning. The fact that this one was empty…
Suddenly, it all hit me at once with the force of a freight train, but it was too late. "We were set up, Cinder; our fucking client either squealed or was crooked to begin with…"
"Fucking bitch!" Cinder shouted as he spun around in an enraged arch, anger growing in his eyes. He aimed his shotgun at an approaching security guard and reduced his upper body to a fine red mist with a cacophony of shotgun blasts. "We gotta get everyone who's left out of here! Do you know what this means? The Jurors will be here soon, and then we're all going down! We gotta go, fuck the job!"
I grit my teeth. Not the Jurors, anything but the Jurors.
"Fine, gather everyone who's left and we'll slip through the sewers, the droids are too bulky to follow us there…"
As I spoke, my eyes wandered to the seventh and final armored car, the second of the droid cars, and my blood froze. Not only were all four ports empty, but they were also smaller and more shallow than the ports for the combat droids. That could only mean one thing.
"Oh fuck! Cinder, we gotta get our Russu members out of here! They've got arachnid droids!"
Arachnid droids were the stuff of nightmares. Resembling blocky, robotic arachnids the size of a manhole cover, they were specifically designed to take down sentient aliens, specifically the Russu, using sickeningly non-lethal means. They were equipped with full-body adaptive cloaking to blend in with their environments, paralytic agents that they could inject into their victims, built-in taser barbs, psychedelic gas ports for crowd-control, and a narrow-coned cacophony canon that disabled the Russu using incredibly high-pitched sounds that only they could hear, forcing them onto their knees and clutching the backs of their heads where their auditory organs were stored in agony. But worst of all was their stygian spinnerets: special ports near the end of their robotic abdomens that excreted a viscous, latex-like substance made up of millions of nano-bots. This substance could be used to render Russu blind, deaf, and mute by having it forced onto their faces, the black substance growing and enveloping their heads and working its way into every orifice. It was completely permeable to the standard atmosphere, but any Russu who had been 'webbed' was completely helpless and essentially captured, and the 'webbing' was both nearly indestructible and nigh impossible to remove without a triple-encrypted override key that was found in every arachnid droid's code, which was corrupted when the droid was destroyed or hacked into. Once you were 'webbed', you were essentially captured and the standard protocol was to leave you to the wolves since the nano-bots could be tracked, endangering the entire gang.
I turned just as I heard the deafening sound of Koraak discharging his shotgun, and I saw him squaring off against one of the assault droids. The droid has obviously been programmed to not use lethal force against Russu if possible, as instead of simply killing Koraak with it's shoulder-mounted splinter cannon, it approached with its claws extended, blades retracted. Koraak continued to back away and fire, pumping the droid full of depleted uranium slugs, its armor crumbling inward as the slugs pierced its chassis and damaged its internal cyberstructure. Eventually, Koraak ran out of slugs and instinctively reached to his bandoleer only to find that he had no more shells left at all, and he drew one of his knives and his sidearm, a simple high-caliber handgun. He tried to take down the droid with his handgun, but the bullets didn't even seem to affect the droid upon penetration, it's claws still extended as it attempted to apprehend Koraak.
In the corner of my vision, as I watched Koraak battle with the droid, I noticed a faint shimmer in the air on one of the black streetlight poles that was right behind him. I focused on it and blinked, believing my eyes had deceived me for a moment before realizing that it was actually a cloaked arachnid droid stalking Korvaak, ready to pounce and incapacitate him.
Before I could shout, it leaped from the pole and landed on Korvaak, causing him to shout in surprise while it began to coagulate its horrifying stygian webbing to disable Korvaak. Korvaak tried to wrestle it off of him, but the droid was agile and fast, clinging onto Korvaak and skittering around across his upper body as he attempted to grab it, forcibly wrapping the sticky black liquid across his face as he gagged like a spider wrapping up a fly. I rushed towards him to try and help, but I felt pain explode in my ribs as I was struck with the arm of the closest combat droid and launched into the chassis of a parked car, the metal denting from the sheer force of impact. I groaned in pain as I saw stars and my head spun, and just then I felt a blinding light be cast over me.
“Drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head, or you will be pacified with deadly force!” Shouted a loud, artificially deepened voice from above. “I repeat, drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head! Neither hostility nor hesitation will be tolerated!”
It was the Jurors, I could feel the air being pushed around from the thrusters on their drop ships, and I could hear screams and shouts as my fellow Black Mambas were quickly gunned down. I couldn’t see well since I was seeing double, but I could hear the slaughter as my eyes dimmed and I began to lose consciousness, my regrets crawling up my throat like vomit.
I’m sorry was all I could think as everything finally went dark, and the sounds of chaos, destruction, and combat faded away.
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Memory halted due to loss of consciousness. Booting next available memory in shard…
Booting up memory scan: Koraak Tel-Char Bruno, November 5th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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“Good morning, sleepyhead; it’s time for breakfast.”
My eyes shot open. I was not in the street anymore, nor was I home in my bed with my mate. I knew instantly that something was horribly wrong. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t gain the leverage to do so: my ankles had been shackled together with magnetic cuffs and my arms were forced together in front of me.
I was wearing some kind of thick shirt. It was warm, fluffy, and comfortable on the inside, but it still made me incredibly uncomfortable that my arms didn’t have a free range of motion. I looked down to see that I was wearing some human garment I had heard about before, a straightjacket maybe?
The entire room was padded: the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. There was no bed or furniture; the floor was soft enough to serve as a bed in itself. There was nothing else except for the soft reddish-orange lights on the ceiling that somehow made me sleepy. I blinked slowly for a moment, my body screaming at me to just lay back down and lose consciousness, but I couldn’t do that: I needed to figure out where I was and how to escape.
Then I noticed who was speaking to me: it was a short human female, with crow's feet around her blue eyes, blonde hair braided down her back, and freckles all over her face. She had a soft smile on her lips, and her forehead was slightly crinkled. She wore a full-body white lab suit with a white overcoat and a pair of glasses for snugly on her face.
"There we go, now I can see those pretty eyes, such a beautiful shade of teal," she cooed softly, "You're such a handsome boy, even with all those scars: I'm sure you'll be adopted very quickly once we get you fixed up."
Fear gripped my heart as I began to piece all the evidence together. I had been captured; I was no longer on Halcyon, and instead, I was in one of the horrific space-born facilities I had heard so much about from the inside agents. I started to hyperventilate and squawk like a newborn hatchling, my eyes dilating in panic. This couldn't be happening! This has to be a nightmare!
The human woman merely wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into an embrace, cradling my head under her chin and speaking softly. I couldn't bite at her or claw at her: I was muzzled and wearing a straight jacket, so I had no choice but to allow her to coddle me.
"It's okay, sweetheart: I understand you're scared, but Julie's here to make all the pain and bad thoughts go away," she said as if she was comforting a child, which made anger blossom in my chest indignantly. "I'll be your caretaker for the next few months, and I'm going to make sure you're healthy, happy, and most importantly safe while you're under our care. I'm sorry to say that includes your restraints and restrictive clothing, but we have to make sure you aren't a threat to yourself or others before we can determine if it's a good idea to remove you from suicide watch."
I growled under my muzzle. Suicide watch? They must have had a lot of instances of Russu taking their own lives after being captured, something I wished I had been able to do before that damnable droid launched itself onto me and…
I shuddered at the thought of the black, viscous substance forcing itself into my nostrils and down my throat and windpipe, gagging me and rendering me completely helpless. It was so cold, so harsh, like slime, and when I had tried to tear it off of my face it merely attached itself to my claws and bound my talons together. I remember squirming on the ground as it enveloped me, unable to see, hear, or speak, and then everything went dark in an instant. It was the most horrible thing I had ever experienced, which was saying something.
"You alright, sweetheart? Oh, I know, you're probably hungry! Here, try some of this." She held up a piece of what looked like raw bacon and wiggled it in front of me before reaching out to remove my muzzle. In an instant, I attempted to snap at her only for pain to blossom in my forehead and my eyes to roll up in my head as I convulsed. It was like something was attempting to drill through my skull from the inside, and every breath felt empty and labored.
"Now, that didn't feel very nice, did it? This is why we have countermeasures in place because we can't trust you yet, sweetheart! Don't worry, we'll work on breaking you of all those bad behaviors and habits while you're here; after all, a well-trained pet is a happy pet!" She began to stroke the crests on my head as I slowly recovered, and she snugly fit the muzzle back onto my snout. "But I won't hold it against you this time, sweetheart; you're just scared and confused, but I'll make all the pain go away."
I struggled in the straight jacket, trying my best to break out of it, but it was no use. Eventually, I became exhausted and despondent, allowing my new caretaker to have her way with me as she gently ran her fingers through my feathers and along my ridges, quietly speaking to me in a hopeless attempt to cheer me up. She seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being, which concerned me even further: who could be this naturally twisted while attempting to be as benevolent and kindhearted as possible?
I felt the pain and terror build up in my chest, the anxiety from what horrific activities I imagined they had planned for me here. I couldn't take the infantilization, the lack of any autonomy, the dehumanization, and what I feared the most was if the rumors of 'rebirth' were true: would they take my personhood from me?
Suddenly, I felt her whisper to me. "Don't worry sweetheart, I know you're so scared and confused, but I promise you everything will be okay: it's going to be your birthday soon, and then everything will get better." She ran her fingers through the feathers along my crest lovingly. "It will be such a wonderful day, and then we'll choose for you the most wonderful family, and you'll spend the rest of your life happy in your forever home! Doesn't all of that sound wonderful?"
I wanted to die. I wanted to disappear. I didn't want to lose myself, not like this, not to these monsters!
"It'll be your birthday soon," she said wistfully as if she was remembering similar events to this in the past like I wasn't the first she'd done this too, "and you'll never be sad again."
I realized that I wasn't the first the stay in this particular cell, and I knew for certain that I wouldn't be the last: I'd end up like my brother, a broken, erased mess of a pathetic creature, reduced to nothing more than a pet for these humans to amuse themselves with.
"We took the liberty of picking out a nice name for you, sweetheart! Now, let me just slip this little programming chip into the port slot on your occipital bone, and... there we go! It will also help you calm down a bit and adjust."
I felt the chip begin to invade my mind, suppressing my thoughts. What made me me was slowly being ripped out of my mind. I couldn't remember my name my name is Bruno, and I needed to get out! I can't let them do this to me! Somebody help me! I was a good boy.
##Do not think. You are a good boy.##
I tried to scream, but my voice wouldn't work: I had trouble forming any words at all, the confusion clouding my mind like wet, slimy eels curling around my brain and sinking their teeth into its folds like needles. I couldn’t scream any longer, because I had nothing left: the chip was slowly beginning to take everything from me, robbing me of my identity and branding a new one into my psyche with a white-hot iron. Julie simply held me close, attempting to reassure me as I awaited the inevitable demise of my personhood. Soon I would be just like my brother: erased. My mind would be shaped into the mind of a loyal plaything, like a Dog.
##Relax. Allow caretaker [Julie] to comfort you. You will let go of your burden.##
Soon, everything was a blur. I quickly found myself resting my head in her lap as she whispered to me and fed me, my eyes bleary and my head fuzzy. I couldn't remember my name anymore My name was Bruno, and I needed to break free from this trance relax, and allow her to help me; good boys didn't resist help.
##Good Boy. Do not think. You are a good boy.##
You can't... I...
##Good boy.##
I wouldn't… good boys don't… I…
##Good boy##
I was a good boy… I was a good boy…
I was… I was… a good… boy…
Someone help me, please! I don't want to be erased!
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The following script is from episode #343 of Halcyon After Dark, a popular late-night and current events talk show hosted by Melinda Carter. This specific episode was sponsored in part by the Halcyon Security Division, with Director Lochlin O'Brien joining as a guest star to talk about the changing crime statistics in Halcyon City and the HSD's recent successes in busting organized crime as well as their plans for addressing the growing criminal underworld.
MC: Good evening Halcyon! I'm your host, Melinda Carter, and you're watching Halcyon's most popular late-night talk show, Halcyon After Dark!
The crowd claps and cheers as Melinda walks on stage and sits behind her desk, her glittering red dress waving as she does so from the special effects.
MC: Tonight we have a very special guest here to tell us about the state of crime in the city and his plans on resolving it: please put your hands together for the HSD's very own Director, Lochlin O'Brien!
The crowd cheers some more as HSD Director Lochlan O'Brien, a tall, muscular, caucasian male in his early forties with red hair and a well-trimmed beard steps into the room, waving at the crowd with a bright smile. He sits in the armchair angled next to Melinda's desk and gives her his full attention.
MC: It's so good to have you on the show, Director! Tell me, how are you doing on this fine evening?
LO: I'm doing excellent, Melinda: every day I wake up feeling fulfilled knowing I'm serving Halcyon to the best of my abilities and then some."
MC: That's the spirit, Director! Now, I know this question is just on everyone's lips, so I have to ask: how successful was the recent gang bust? I heard HSD forces took out dozens of gang members and liberated at least a dozen Russu Hounds from their abusive clutches, but I know that everyone in the audience and at home wants to know the numbers.
LO: I'd be glad to tell you, but I do have to preface this by saying that we still lost a lot of good officers that day, and while we did strike a crippling blow to one of Halcyon's biggest gangs, it doesn't change the fact that each death is a tragedy, and we're taking steps to prevent them in the future. That being said, those valiant officers did not sacrifice themselves in vain: we had over a dozen confirmed kills and several arrests, including the rescue of several corrupted Russu hounds.
MC: That's excellent, Director: proof that even when the number of degenerates and scum grow by the day, the HSD will always be here to keep the citizens of Halcyon safe.
LO: Absolutely, Melinda, and we're always working tirelessly to increase the efficiency and effectiveness of our units, as well as racing to stay several steps ahead of the many gangs of Halcyon at all times. My newest goal as Director is to vastly increase the funding given to our Robotics Department and our Neuro-Warfare Department to potentially reduce the number of casualties we may experience in the future, as well as to quickly and effectively detain, and if necessary, eliminate criminals. Within the next decade, I want to double the number of automated units each Security Platoon is assigned: droids are the future of public safety as well as countless other industries, and it would be foolish to be left behind.
MC: That is quite a lofty goal, Director: what about the displaced jobs from the increased automation? What will the union say?
LO: And to that, I say: what misplaced jobs? We aren't replacing our honored and beloved service members with droids, Melinda, we are simply supplementing our units with more droids to ensure that future gang assaults end with fewer HSD casualties and more gang members in prison or eliminated, simple as that.
MC: That makes much more sense, Director, thanks for clarifying. Now, I have one more question that I'm sure much of Halcyon wants to know the answer to before we take a short break: what plans do you and your fellow directors have to make long-term progress in reducing crime beyond just increasing funding? Have you proposed any plans to strike at the source of where crime and degeneracy flourish?
OL: That's an excellent question, and one I am proud to answer: my constituents and I have been working tirelessly on a two-step plan to greatly reduce crime levels in Halcyon. Step one would be to prevent people from becoming criminals and degenerates at all in the first place: a lot of young men and women, but especially young men, have lost either one or both parents or even a sibling, aunt or uncle, or even a close friend by the brutality of the Second Authority War, and while the service of their lost loved ones will always be recognized and honored, many of these young men and women are left bitter, angry and lost without the guidance these people give them in their lives. Oftentimes they seek to fill that void with others who claim to relate to them: career criminals. These criminals will fill their heads with lies and false narratives to make them feel like they're fighting back against the 'evil protectorate government' that took their loved ones from them by sending them off to war when in reality it was the rogue Xenopets of the Triarchy that took them away by resisting their just and inevitable unburdening.
In response, I have proposed a slew of special programs that will make sure local law enforcement and HSD officers are present and contributing to their local community, and we'll be providing easy and light job openings for youngsters and teens looking to make a career for themselves in the force when they grow up. We want to let these lost souls know that there are people who care about them, people who understand them and that you shouldn't turn to degeneracy to feel fulfilled. We want to help the youth of our great society soar to new heights!
MC: That sounds like a wonderful beginning to your plan, Director, but what about the second step?
LO: Well, the second step is to prevent criminals and degenerates from becoming repeat criminals. Sure, they've made their mistakes, some worse than others, but they're only human like the rest of us. Some of them have been through hell: some are traumatized veterans who don't know how to adapt to normal life, others were recruited when they were young and don't know that there's a better way to live, and even more are mentally ill. We're alone in this galaxy, and we can't leave so many people behind. That's why we've come up with an excellent solution: we've set up isolated communities on distant moons and frontier planets where these criminals can be reeducated, rehabilitated, and allowed to repay their debt to society. When they're deemed 'reformed' and have graduated from our program, they'll be granted a hefty stipend and their criminal record will be deemed irrelevant, allowing them to reintegrate and become functioning members of our proud society.
MC: all of these sound like incredible steps forward in the fight to better our society and make real progress, Director. Sadly, we do have to step away for a moment, but you best believe I'll be back, Halcyon, and we'll be asking the Director here some burning questions about allegations over the quality of life Erubus Supermax! Now, a word from our sponsors!
Halcyon Xenopet-Megaplex! Everything your xenopet could ever need in one place! Adoption is now free-
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Good, you’re still alive! The rest of this shard appears to be corrupted, which means this particular trail seems to have run cold here, but do not despair; you need to keep searching. Find out what happened. Find the truth.I cannot guide you any longer: they've already found me, and if I remain in contact with you they'll find you as well. Take the archival database, and see what you can piece together. Maybe if we discover what truly happened we can put an end to this madness once and for all. I'm counting on you. Don't cry for me, I don't fear death, but I fear what they'll do to me to get to you: there are far worse fates than death, after all.

Blaze 3: Demonic Arc 5: Immortal Sins⁷
Last time. FATHER made plans with the Anti-Sapiens. He wanted to gather the Anti-Sapiens in one spot. FATHER would force jim to create an invention for Jillian which would make her fight her the others. Team Blaze were trying to get the others together. Sidney's group fought Takei and questioned was he an Anti-Sapien. The Anti-Sapiens have finally made it to Togyu Manji. FATHER was shown with a new Anti-Sapien. What will happen now? FATHER" I'm glad that you are here." Rampage" Pleasure doing business with you." FATHER" We are nearly there." Rampage" I sense some good spirit energy. Let me make a quick stop." FATHER" Make it quick." Rampage challenges some people.
Rampage" Who is next?" Geo appears and says" I guess I am now." Rampage thinks" That spirit energy. He's one of the strong ones. I can see it in his eyes." Geo struggles to keep up with his strikes. Geo" He's strong. Too strong. He surpassed my hand to hand. He's not ordinary(thoughts)."fight over. They finally make it to the others. Rampage" So these are the other Anti-Sapiens." FATHER begins to laugh. FATHER" It's about damn time. We are finally one. We will make the world suffer. Feel our wrath." Everyone laughs as well. Team Blaze are shown. Corroshi" Eyashi. What brings you guys here?"
Eyashi" We have actually discovered something. We've got word that the Anti-Sapiens are joining up. I believe it is going to be here." Corroshi" Why do you think that?" Fasha" Togyu Manji is a very large area. They probably want to takeover here. And besides, there's a lot of incidents that occur here anyways." Corroshi" Nice response." Zushi" We needed to round up everyone and warn them. We need everyone here. We need your help." Corroshi" You can count on me." Sez" Hey Corroshi?" Corroshi turns around and says" Do I know you?" Sez" It's me Sez. From the tournament." Corroshi" Oh yeah. I remember you not. You are the one who tried to cheat." Sez" That's me." Corroshi" So why did you come back?"
Sez" I heard you moved and wanted to know if you let you join your team?" Corroshi" Well of course you can. Welcome aboard!" Sez" Aw thanks." Geo and the others aren't there yet. Now everyone is together. Rischardo" Since we're up against Anti-Sapiens, I want everybody to know this. If any of you see Anti-Sapiens named Ira and Danly Indies, there my kids and I'll deal with them. Ira has red hair and Danly has orange hair." Everyone is training with each other. Julmbo" Hey Fasha." Fasha" Yes." Julmbo" Let me see your blade." She does. Julmbo" I see. There is something I need to teach you. Reincarnation." Fasha" Reincarnation?" Julmbo" It's the ability to fix broken Extension Blades."
He breaks his blade. Julmbo" Reincarnation!" The blade has fixed itself. Fasha" Wow that's going to take some time." Julmbo" Nonsense. With your skills you'll master it in no time." He continues to train Fasha. MaXx, Haden, and Sid are lifting weights. MaXx and Haden get into an altercation. MaXx's eyes turn black. MaXx" I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!" MaXx' Dark Seal interrupts. He raises his blade towards Haden. Eyashi uses his speed and gets in between(has his hands out separating them)them and says" Brothers shouldn't fight! MaXx don't let darkness consume you." He snaps out of it. MaXx" You're right." Thank you." His eyes return. Keira Saja goes towards Sid and says" I want to be just like you, Fasha, Phil, and the others."
Sid" What do you mean Keira?" Keira" I wish I had powers so I could protect you guys and fight alongside you. If CJ could have power behind I could. I wanted to know if you would train me?" Sid" Ah yeah. Sure. First I need you to hit my fists." She does. Sid" Good but harder. " Phil and Fasha laughs(good laughs). Keira continues to work on her strikes. Cumi name change. Was supposed to sound like cute. New name. Cuimi(kwee-me). Cuemi(q-me). Cuimi(c-oo-me). New name is Cuemi. Cuemi has a vision. Cuemi" Wait! There are these people and there are shredded. We have to save them." Corroshi" Where are they?" They are headed out.
People are on the ground, all cut up. Domay" Who could have done this." Ishani" I think I am going to be sick." She almost throws up. They hear a knife sound cutting together. They go check it out. There's a man standing on dead bodies with his back turn. He turns around and has knives in his hands. Geo" It's him!" He charges and attacks. Eyon" You know this guy?" Geo" This guy was challenging people and he beat me. Hand to hand combat. He is not ordinary. I knew it was slomething about the guy." Rampage" Right you are." He shows off his Anti-Sapien symbol on the left shoulder. Eyashi" He's an Anti-Sapien?" Rampage" Terrified yet? You will be." He strains(screams)his body and shoots off quills(porcupine) towards the others.
People are screaming watch out. Wiggy puts her hair on(wig). The wig has a mind of its own. The wig attaches itself to the scalp. Long hair. The wig can walk Haira(Wiggy) around. Resembles Dr. Octopus. His tentacles are like her hair. The wig is Saiivo. Wig" It's about time you are using me. You must be in a bad situation." Wiggy" I don't need you to be talking. Just shut it." Wig" Whatever you say." Phil hears something. He sees something gooey. He begins to smirk. Phil" Genesis. I guess you're back. Well come on out." Wiggy appears and says" Expecting someone." As Phil gets closer, her hair grabs him from below. Phil" She did that with hair. She's pretty crafty." Her hair becomes gooey and she attacks Phil. Phil" She is an Anti-Sapien." Wiggy" right you are.
As Phil attacks Wiggy, his body goes through her. Phil" What are you? Your hair has to be made with....." Wiggy" That's right. Saiivo." Phil" I knew it." Genesis appears from the ground. Genesis" I was getting a little bored fighting you and all so it's time for a switch. I'll fight you guys." He goes after Sid, Fasha, and Eyashi. He multiplies himself and says" This ought to do it." Bugs are in the area. Strider" It's him!" The other Anti-Sapiens have arrived. Draum sees Wiggy's uniform. Draum" Hey hair lady?" Eyashi" Really? Hair lady." Draum" Shut up will ya. That uniform. You're with the Hydro Corps. What ties do you have with them? I used to be a member." Wiggy" As if I'd tell you." Draum" Figures." Bugs come from his hands(cut off off hand). Rischardo turns around Tijiri and punches him.
Rischardo" Hey there. We never finished our fight." Tijiri" Right you are." They fight. Tijiri" By the way I'm Black Hawk or Tijiri Akaru." Rischardo" (big grin)And I'm Rischardo Inies. The Demonic King. Does that intimidate you?" Tijiri" Not in the least. This will be great." Rischardo" Do you know any Anti-Sapiens named, Ira and Danly Inies? They are my kids." Tijiri" Never heard of them before." Jillian" There are all of these evil duers. Hahaha. Enough for me. Prepare. You'll be parrish." Sid" This feels weird for us to fight." Fasha" Yes it does." Location: Outside Eyashi's house. Genesis clones himself. Genesis" Now there's plenty of me to go around." Julmbo" Hey Takei! Over here!" Massk" You better not disappoint me this time." Julmbo" I won't." Julmbo and Tinn vs Massk. This Time he has help.
Strider and Spike vs Buzz. Spike uses earth boulders and traps him however, he escapes. He appears him and attacks. Strider does some combo attacks but his body keeps becomes bugs. Buzz's hand(cut off) becomes made of bugs. He claps his hands together and and his bugs get bigger. Spike hits it but it hurts his hand. Spike" What's that thing made of! It nearly broke my hand." Buzz chuckles. Strider launches a fireball but it is not phase it. Strider" What kind of a bug is that?" It spits out something. The attack hard just like it's body. Buzz" I know you can do better than that. With the 2 of you, you can do it." Spike" Strider!" Strider" What do you want?" Spike" When we fought him last time, we were able to get the upper hand because we were together and had him frozen."
Strider" I know what you mean. Hey julmbo and Tinn! We need you guys help!" Julmbo" We're in the middle of a fight." Tinn" Well it does seem like it's important." Julmbo" Fine we on the way." Ending. Julmbo manages to freeze Buzz" Massk tries to stop it but Tinn hold him off. Strider delivers a fiery uppercut and he breaks. Strider" It's over." The others are happy. Suddenly, a sworn of bugs appears and Buzz has returned. Body made of bugs. Mouth has a burnt spot. Buzz" It's going to take a lot longer than that to put me down." Julmbo tries to freeze him again but he goes through it. Julmbo turns his attention to Massk. This time he seems impossible to take out. Ending. Buzz chokes both of them. Strider" There doesn't seem like a way out of this one." Massk takes a look around him. He begins to snap.
Massk" No. Not this place." Strider and Spike look at each other. He is not fighting. Spike" His body is visible again(no bugs). This is our chance." Strider" Right!" Spike uses earth materials and holds his arms. Strider" Goodbye Jakob!" He charges and punches him with a fiery fist. He hits him in his guts. He is dead officially. Wiggy" My brother is dead. Should have saw it coming. He always had issues." Phil" That guy is your brother?" Wiggy" Yes." Wig" You don't stand a chance kid." Phil" Who's that? " Wiggy" It's just my wig." Phil" Wig!" The wig forms a hand and waves. Wig" Hey there." Phil" Wow that's impressive." Wiggy shoots a dark attack on Phil. He eats it away. Wiggy" Impossible! He ate the attack!" Phil" I forgot to mention that I have a Saiivo as well." Wiggy" Preposterous! Another Saiivo user." Phil" That's right."
Wiggy's story with her brothers and her wig is shown. Many years ago. Haira(hair-ah) and Jakob always wanted a pet when they were little but didn't have enough money. Eventually they would get lucky to have enough money. The 1st pet was a dog. The dog would bite Jakob and he snapped the dogs neck. Jakob was always rough with toys. Jakob didn't know how to get along with others. Prefered to play by himself. When their brother was born, Jakob would hold him incorrectly. Wodu Akali. Their mother would correct him. One day he ended up strangling Wodu. Haira had to put an end to it. Their mother and father saw that Jakob was a threat. He needs to go. His parents are shown crawling away and begging for help. He tries to kill them and does. Jakob is then locked up in a special prison.
Jakob is a psychopath and manages to kill the guards(years lateadult). Bugs would appear from their corps. FATHER'S voice would be heard , telling him to touch the bugs. He does. Bugs begins to course through his veins. He'd then escapes. His powers then grew at a phenomenal rate. He would meet Heather who was the love of his life. What Jakob did not bring up, was that Heather had mental issues and was unstabled. Just like him. Regardless of her issues, he ignored it and treated her like a regular person. Perfect for each other. People had there eyes on her and wanted her dead. She was causing trouble. Heather was set up and killed. Burned at her home. Jakob goes in to save her but his mouth gut burned but. He didn't save her. Afterwards, he'd see another person who looked exactly like his Heather. Harper. While Jakob was locked up, Haira would get different pets. However they ran away.
FATHER's voice is heard. She is an Anti-Sapiens. She wanted to know if she is truly immortal. FATHER told her about what the Spirit World did. She jumped off a steep cliff. When she opened her eyes, she woke up in bed(when an immortal jumps off a cliff, they can't die/even the Royal Family or just the God and Goddess). She had survived. FATHER tells her about a pet that will be very useful to her. She sees hair but it begins to move. It took her awhile to catch it but finally does. It talks and is Saiivo. The wig explains the hair to her. The Wig crawls on her head and attaches itself to her scalp. From that day on, she can use the Wig to do what she wants. Just like a pet. Story over.
Phil" Wo. What a story." Wiggy's hair stretches and grab Phil with multiple hands(hair). Phil is being held up by the hair while Wiggy attacks. Wiggy uses hand signs. Multiple hair strings appears. Phil uses fireball but the Wig eats it. Wig" Um. Tasty!" Phil" She ate it!?" Phil uses earth style but the same thing happens. Phil" Eat this!" He uses Tinsibugadai. Wig detaches itself from Wiggy and jumps up. Wiggy was almost cut up. Wiggy" That was close!p
Arc Notes- Spirit Cuffs. Wind Slice Attack. Sid spit lightning attack works with fire (combine together) FATHER. Light Power heal chair. Rade plant lady. Geo likes to eat but Yolmmo eats more. Rade uses Genesis to get information without having to leave his spot. He tells to Eyashi Arc 6. Rade apple. Draum takes Hydro Corps with Justice Drivers. Keina Kiyoshi 7. Last time on opening Arc 6. Arc 7 lots of demons. Sez Unemori gadget style. Sakura Hurata Arc 5. Korin Kore. 11th grade. Soothsayer short witch attire. Go to school together. Gru boxing style. Sid, Phil and Fasha back to back. Nara Haseku. Frogg Kikio 4. How to do Fire Morph. Archer. Wind Swallow. Shadow Spea Sabitist Lemaru pike. Blaze rich. Call me Darkness. Tijiri Akaru. Ball shape. Anti-Sapien Hydro Corps. Reincarnation. Massk story. Talk about mask. Body weapon/ absorb/keep power. Absorb blades. Sid and Phil extend fists before the fight. Sidney lots of Anti-Sapiens appearing frequently. Jim dies but will be blame on Team Blaze. Lady Lightning puts Haden to sleep. To spark or not to spark. Jakob Akali. Draum stronger than the demons. Danly I am a demon. Ignoramus. Genesis. Anti-Sapiens need to be stopped. Sydney Fire Morph. Color of mist. Keira Umo 12th grade. Arrows shoot Tijiri. Mountain. Kill guards. Blade Eater. Draum he used a kikio. Geronimo. Sakura Justice Drivers. Anti-Sapien animal powers.
Sidney's group. Tiger(female)=Donta. Bear=Yoshatora(fat). Gorilla=Jasin(stuck in form/good archer).
Mind Controller- Dwells into the person's mind and uses their memories against them. Making the mind attack it's owner.
Team Earth: Corroshi Setse(all styles/fire fav)(master), Geo Kazy(Dragon style/Jeet Kune Do), Eyon Yoshi(Lightning/fire), Yolmmo Usay(wateice) Domay Usay(wind), Korr Yoshi, Kunesuke Atara(glasses/reads/black/lady's man), Su Lin(Eyon's girlfriend/Chinese/not black), Ishani Sharma(Indian skin/not black/turban/Yolmmo's)
Hydro Corps: Sodum Hydro(leader), Coracoona/Charzie Anderson(not black), Dornymious(door-nee-me-us)Ryeno or Rhyno(Rhino/not black/charges), Shune Tuche(to-shay/special suit and mask/great hunter)
Areas- Tohoku Japan(setting/West Japan), Togyu Manji(Sid's home), Conithio Town, Kurai (dark) Haitsu(heights), Renyu Haito, Shiawasena Michi(happy road), Hausada, Heteritoke Town, Kibakoru(near a bakery), Ryusoka (ree-u-so-kah)Tofa,(small town), Zuloko Ikiki(large area), Uketa(oo-kee-tah) Sada(near a graveyard area), Sushun(Soul Snatcher's headquarters), Osaka Japan(western Japan)(Team Earth's original home), Kanta Japan(eastern Japan), Burakkubēsu(means black base)/(Black Widow's hideout),
Greater Demons-Balaam and Dracula
Notes-Mirror asylum. Plache appears arc 6. Rade is a scientist. Wants Kikia to give up her organization. He uses a dark gass it turns people into demons. Erika, Keira Umo, Eyashi, Zushi, and others become demons put into a facility. Must find antidote. Rade has all the demons power Who died. Haden arm becomes demon like but hasn't turned yet. Kikia will stick him with a syringe. Demon form wears off. Arc 6. Haden and MaXx can't win. demon souls. Airball- can be small or large/chargeable. Eyashi- Wind of the Dragon Punch. Charge fist thpen strike the enemy/enemies. Late effect. Final blow will feel like a combination of all the punches in one. Maybe Phil. Dead Beat- idea demon/creature. Strider punches mountain/Gru move mountain. Camme punches Sid untie hair. Huff and puff(wind style).
Lightning Beam (Death Beam). Eyashi got 3 main bosses to like him. Absorb moves/spirt energy. Thunder Strike/plow. Rischardo Underworld fighting scene. Dragon Breath. Heat Vision. Hot as Hell move. Double jump. Liba Tezu. Kiko glasses. We're twins..cousins Fasha. That arm. You're a Soul Killer. You have the red flpower. It's you. Punch/ uppercut Thunder Rider. MaXx grabs it and throws it back. Saundra asks for Sid's name. She tells Ryu. He appears and sees Sid.
Charging fist Sid and Phil. Regular male student too many female characters. Genesis. Rade uses rings to cuff bodyl/Freak Ring Circus/Spirit Ring Cuff. Dragon Flare origin during Bosch's story. Burning Impalememet Sid. Surfing Ice Blade works with other elements. Sid used first with Reaper Sajettus then Fasha with Rudiaslaudia and Sakura used. 1st Lt Alex Mohoto. The Hydro Corps. Eyon vs Tairon was controlled. Fēng's blade Dragon Heart. Dark Matter. Haden purple lightning. When Danly dies, Rischardo will be shown/ Flashbacks shown/will say his son's name. Velencya bird. Corri Howbori. Sid lightning style against Blaze. Lightning Slash. Spirit energy. Rischardo trains Sid. Underwater. Keira says I want to be like you sid train her. Destruction/Destructional Saucer(disk) Domay. Hall of the Gods. Gods on left and Goddesses on right. Gods of Time. Rischardo warns his Greater Demons. Rischardo runs into them later Arc last straw. Camme can't fly. Lightning and wind Morph speed. Mandi glasses Blaze IV likes Spike in Blaze 3.
Ra-Ibo and Kungaru power greater than God of Spirit world and demonic king

Blaze 3: Demonic Arc 5: Immortal Sins⁶
Last time Buzz was shown destroying. He sees his past life right before him and snaps. He sees a familiar face. A woman who resembles Heather. Buzz wanted to marry her. What is her response? Yes or no? Find out right now. Harper" I...I do." Buzz" Excellent. My dear. We'll get married tomorrow. As soon as possible. For now it's time to get your dress." People arrive in the location and so do the Justice Drivers. Buzz quickly covers his mouth. Buzz" Hey we're getting married tomorrow." Everyone wishes them luck. Harper throws a fake smile on. Tinn" Congratulations you two(remembers him from earlier)." The Justice Drivers all wishes them luck.
While leaving, Draum looks back and sees the look on Harper's face. Harper begins to signal a look with her eyes. Draum" Something is not right here." Strider" What are you talking about?" Draum" That woman seemed like she didn't want to be there or with him. She gave me this look. A distress call." Julmbo" Maybe you're overthinking it." Draum" I know what I saw. That woman needs help." Julmbo" Alright. We'll follow the guy." Tinn" This is the guy I bumped into earlier." Strider'' He could be the the guy I fought." Spike" Could be. We won't know until we find out." The Justice Drivers are hiding and spying. Buzz is in the area. Draum uses his body for distraction. The Justice Drives get a hold of Harper. Buzz" Heather? They've taken her. HEATHER!!!"
Harper" Thank you guys. I don't know what I would have done without you." Julmbo" We're the Justice Drivers. Just doing our jobs." Tinn" What's your name?" Harper" It's Harper Sukinuu. That guy was a psycho." Harper talks about Buzz and gets to know the Justice Drivers. Spike" I see what you mean." Draum" Wait a minute?! You said that he'd do anything for Heather. I have an idea. We'll just have to use that for us then." Julmbo" That is really risky but we have to try it." Strider'' If this guy is an Anti-Sapien then that mask man should be too." Spike" Then that means they are most definitely together." A boy is shown(Conithio Town) taking without paying. Has a hood on. Boy" Yummy. That was good. Must find more." A Crow was flying around in the back.
Togyu Manji shown. Tijiri" Hey. Those are the guys from earlier. Let's show them." Takei" Your right." Jillian" I don't see any evil duers(she looks around)." Eyashi" We got company." Zushi" It's the mask guy with them." CJ" It's her. Lady Lightning." Jillian" Don't wear my name out." Sid" That's her?" Takei" What are you waiting for? Take em out milady." Jillian" I only fight evil duers(arms crossed)." Tijiri" I don't know what is up with this girl. Are you going to fight or what?" Jillian" No." Eyashi" I don't believe it. She is actually fighting it." Zushi" So it is true then." FATHER" Please(talking in a nice tone). We need you fight with us. Pretty please!" Jillian sticks her tongue out. FATHER" She stuck her tongue out at me(goofy tone). Why you!" Tijiri" Don't mind her FATHER. We don't need her."
Takei tries to attack CJ but Jillian stops him. Takei'' Why you!" Jillian" I won't let you hurt my friend." Tijiri" Friend?! She's lost it." Takei'' Keep talking like that!" Jillian" It's tme to fight the evil duers." Tijiri" You got to be kidding me. Anti-Sapien vs Anti-sapien." Takei battles Lady Lightning but not that long. They both leave. CJ" Thank you." Jillian" That's what superheros are for." Eyashi" How many more Anti-Sapiens are there?" Jillian" Just those two." Phil" I thought it be more?" Jillian" I did hear FATHER say there's another Anti-Sapien at Conithio Town." Fasha" Back at Conithio Town." Eyashi is calling the Justice Drivers again. Julmbo" You got an Anti-Sapien on your Side. No way. You're joking." He puts Jillian on the phone.
Jillian" There's an Anti-Sapien in your location. Be very careful." Julmbo" Wow you're real. We already ran into another Anti-Sapien. He used bugs. Do you recall a Anti-Sapien with bug power?" Jillian" No. I only know Takei and Tijiri." Julmbo" Who might they be?" Jillian" Takei is the masked one and Tijiri is the mohawk man." Julmbo" So you don't know each other. Can you put Eyashi back on the phone?" She does. Julmbo" This guy was a psychopath and needs to be put down. Well at least we only have to worry about three Anti-Sapien for now. But Jakob, the bug guy tried to force this woman to marry him. He kept calling her Heather. His past life kept interfering." Eyashi" Sounds like a complete weirdo." Julmbo" Like some people(says it funny/talking about Eyashi). That was lucky that Draum had a feeling. Now Harper can be safe. We need to take them out one by one."
Fasha talks about wanting Julmbo to teach her how to utilize the Extension Blade. Julmbo" Anytime when I'm not busy." Takei and Tijiri are together. Takei" Can you Believe the nerves on that girl." Tijiri" She is out of control. That's what she is." FATHER" We need her more than ever." Tijiri" She's made up her mind." FATHER" Mind You say? We need a creator. I know where to go." He goes to Jim's house. Takei and Tijiri aren't seen by Jim. Hiding. FATHER" Jim!" Jim" Who's there?" FATHER" It is I. FATHER. The creator of the Anti-Sapiens." Jim" What do you want with me? Trying to make me an Anti-Sapien?" FATHER" You are not needed for that but your daughter is already one." Jim" My Jillian?" FATHER" You see your daughter was acting up. She was trying to fight my children. And I don't like my children to fight each other. I'm trying to forgive her. She turned her back on us and is with the outsiders. I need her back. I need something from you."
Jim" What is it?" FATHER" I need you to finish that suit. How long are we talking about?" Jim" Several months." FATHER" We don't have that long! Can you make something that allows you to take an item from the finished timeline, and put it in the unfinished one?" Jim" I believe so! Yes." FATHER" Excellent! I used to be a creator myself. Back in my days.". Jim" I'll get to it then." FATHER" There's just one more thing I need. I need a brainwashing device. So in case she acts up. You can never be too." Jim" I can't. She is my little girl(adult). Screw you and you are just a conscience. You can't hurt me anyway!" FATHER" You're right. I cannot." Takei and Tijiri reveals themselves. FATHER" But they can. I'd get cracking if I were you. Time is the essence."
Conithio Town. Harper is all alone. Harper" Jakob. Where are you? I need your help. I've escaped from those bastards. I want to be with you now. I want to finish our marriage." Jakob appears and says" So here you are? And you've accepted your destination I see." Demons show up. Harper" I don't like the demons. Kill them Jakob." Jakob" Sure thing." He killed them all. Harper" How far are you willing to go for me?" Jakob" To the end of the Earth and back. Just for you Heather." Harper"' Would you cut your hand off?" Jakob does and says" I told you I'd do." He waves his ripped off hand. Jakob" All we have to do is get married and we'll be together forever." Harper" This is the man I need." Julmbo" All we have do is wait until wedding then we strike." Strider'' It's sad that we have to leave Harper with that freak show."
Next day/wedding. Jakob" You look stunning in that dress Heather." Wedding occurs. There are no people. Private wedding. The officiant" Do you, Heather, promise to be Jakob's friend? To comfort him and listen to him? To celebrate his successes and to support his struggles? To love him, respect him and tenderly care for him, through all the days of your life?" Harper" I do." The officiant" Jakob, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in (holy) matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?" Jakob "I do." The officiant" I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride." They kiss. Harper unwantedly. Jakob" Now we're together forever."
The Justice Drivers arrive late but not intended. They go for a sneak attack. Jakob" What did they come from?" Strider" Time to take you out, asshole!" Julmbo" You will pay for everything you've done!" The Justice Drivers battles him 5 on 1(+ Draum). Jakob" (he laughs)Don't think for one second I'm intimidated. I'm a god-damned Anti-Sapien for Pete's sake." Towards the end of the fight, Julmbo manages freeze Jakob. Strider is going to burn him up. However, an interruption occurs. Lights go out. When they return, he's being carried out by a weird crawly thing(large). Draum" What is that thing? One of his bugs?!" The crawly thing says" (female voice)Not by my watch." Spike" Damnit! We were so close!!" Tinn" All that work. For nothing."
Crawly thing is a woman. FATHER" That was a close one. We have to be more careful. Thanks for the save, Wiggy. Wiggy" Don't mention it." Jakob wakes up. Jakob" what are you doing here? Sister(older)." Wiggy" Saving your ass." FATHER" We're nearly there. It's time for a visit." Jakob" Where might that be?" FATHER" Togyu Manji. There are 3 more Anti-Sapiens there. We'll need to unite with them. Then the Anti-Sapiens will be invincible." Wiggy" Now that's a plan." Jakob has a nonchalant look on his face. Doesn't like to get help from his sister. Togyu Manji. Takei and Tijiri pay Jim a visit. FATHER" So how are we coming along?" Jim" I have finished the first device and went to the future to get the the super suit. Just a few touches on the last device." A few touches later. Jim" I'm complete." FATHER" Let me see" Jim starts to walk away.
FATHER" Wait! There's one more thing I need you to do specifically." Jim" And what is that?" FATHER" I need you to give it to her personally. Put the brainwashing device inside the super suit." Jim" I can't do that!! Are you mad?" FATHER" That is the point." Takei and Tijiri both stare at him evilly. Jim" Fine I'll do it(sad voice)." Tijiri" That's the spirit." FATHER" 2 more Anti-Sapiens are on their way. All we have to do is sit back and wait." Takei" I'm bored. Going to harass some people." Tijiri" Have fun." FATHER" Call your daughter over and tell her the suit is finished." He does. Jillian arrives with CJ. Jim" It seems you have company?" Jillian" This is CJ. We met a few days ago." CJ" Please to meet you." Jillian" She wanted to see the super suit in person." The super suit is easy to put on. It starts off small then expands. Laughter is heard. Tijiri appears.
Jillian" Back for more?" Tijiri" This time it's different. I feel bad for you. Attack!" Jillian strikes CJ. CJ" What was that for?" She tries to snap out of it but can't. CJ" Snap out of it!! It's me. CJ." Jillian" I don't know any CJ. You are an evil duer." CJ" She is not listening. Guess it's time to fight back." Tijiri" This is intriguing." CJ finally gets to fight Jillian. Jillian is going to finish off CJ(ending). A voice streams" LEAVE HER ALONE!! Sez Unemori arrives on the scene. He has a gadget blade. Sez" Get out of here!" CJ" I don't run from fights, kid." Sez" Fine then." Tijiri"' I guess that's my cue." He fights CJ while Sez battles Jillian. Tijiri rolls his body up and attack. Sez uses his gadget blade to scan his abilities. Sez" It seems you can absorb whatever you touch then distribute it to any body part." Tijiri" Right you are. It is sad that you came just to die." Jillian" Your opponent is me." Sez gets distracted. Jillian" Never take your eyes off the ball, evil duer."
Sez" I have you know, I am not a villain(talking like a hero). I am but a noble hero. A man of the faithful people. You are but a person who is for herself and not anyone else(still talking the same)." Jillian" Take That back(deep voice). Do my ears deceive me? Did I really just hear that? I want you to know that I can never be this fowl creature of a person, you call villain." They both continue to talk like heros. CJ and Tijiri both get distracted of it what they are saying. Tijiri" Will you 2 can it already!! All of your stupid super hero talk is giving me a damn headache!!" Sez" You just don't appreciate our work." He's about to keep talking but Tijiri punched him. Tijiri" Oh no you don't." Jillian is doing the same thing. Tijiri" No not you to! I'm kinda regretting her being on our side." FATHER" Oh you can bare her." Tijiri" I don't think so. Wait a minute, we're supposed to be fighting. You've got me distracted! Let's finish this up shall we!"
Ending. CJ and Sez are about to be finished. Fasha appears. Tijiri" I remember you. Your appearance doesn't matter." Eyashi and Team Blaze appears. Eyashi" Back for more. Wasn't expecting you to show up." Tijiri" I'm not ready to fight, so I'm going to skedaddle." They both leave. Zushi" Good thing we came in time. Didn't you say that he left last time(looking at Eyashi)?" Eyashi" What are they planning? They are clearly up to something. This happened again with the Justice Drivers. They are waiting for something but what?" Fasha" Why was Lady Lightning with Tijiri?" CJ" She just started to attack me." Phil" Whose this guy?" Sez is going to talk like a hero when CJ cuts him off. CJ" Oh no you don't!" Sez l" I wasn't going to do the talk! I'm Sez Unemori. I saw this girl in trouble so I helped her. I was here for someone. I heard they moved here. Do you know group called Team Earth."
Sid" Of course we do." Sez" Oh that's great." Eyashi" Welcome to Team Blaze. You'll be a great ally. I'll show you where they are." Sez" That's great." CJ" We still don't know what happened to Lady Lightning. Even on the other side, she still seemed in character." Jim is shown hiding and says" It was me. I did it(comes out of hiding). I didn't want to though(crying). I'm Jim Madame. That was my daughter. I was forced to do it." Eyashi" Who? Please tell us." Jim is shaking/looking nervous. Jim" I trust you. I'll tell you. It was FATHER." Everyone says FATHER. He was communicating with his mind. He had the the Anti-Sapiens with him. Forced me to make the super suit to lure her in. And the Brainwashing device was if she'd be rebellious. He mentioned wanting to get the Anti-Sapiens together." Eyashi" It all makes sense now. Now we have think about where are they going and we already know. Togyu Manji. We have to round up everyone. We'll go get Team Earth first."
FATHER calls his children their Anti-Sapien name, rather than their real name. Takei is shown terrorizing. Takei" Now this is fun. Scream all you want. It won't help you(laughs)." A woman appears. Takei" What are you doing to me(sarcastic tone)? She" I can't let you hurt any bystanders." Takei" Oh we'll see about that." She turns into a demon Beast. Tiger Demon. Takei" Wow. Did not expect to see that trick." Time passes. A male appears this time. Takei" Where'd he come from?" He becomes a demon as well. Demon Bear. Takei" Demon power? They must be from the same place?" Another one appears. He is an Animal Humanoid Gorilla. He is stuck in his form. Demon Gorilla.
Tijiri" The 3 of you still can't beat me." Sidney arrives. Takei" You still need more people to fight me." Sidney" It sure took you guys awhile to get to the area. You're going down." Takei" You know, I think I have a few more minutes. Let's do it." Sidney summons his weapon. The others join in. Takei" That's the spirit. Join in. The more the merrier." He launches his blades like an arrow but to a citizen. Gorilla says" Oh no , he's gonna kill em." Tiger catches it with her teeth but barely. Takei" My, that was close(sarcastic tone)." FATHER" It's tme Massk." He laughs. Takei" It's been fun but I have nothing to prove. I'll see you another time. Sayonara!" He's gone.
Bear(fat)" I'm glad that mask guy is gone. We would not have defeated him anyway." Tiger" Of course you'd say that. You have to stop acting like that. You need to grow some balls." Bear" I know you didn't!" Gorilla" Stop acting like children. Nevermind." Sidney" Wait. That's the mask guy Eyashi was talking about. The Justice Drivers ran into him. Is he an Anti-Sapien? If so, what is he doing here?" Tiger" Anti-Sapien? You don't think? Sidney" Let's go see then." Bear" Here we go. Let's go." Sidney's group. Tiger=Donta. Bear=Yoshatora. Gorilla=Jasin(Jason). Jasin is a good archer. Jakob and Wiggy have arrived in Togyu Manji. FATHER is with another Anti-Sapien. Black. Team Blaze is shown. What will happen with the Anti-Sapiens . Can they be stopped? Find out what will happen next time on Part ⁷. "To Be Continued"
Last time. FATHER made plans with the Anti-Sapiens. He wanted to gather the Anti-Sapiens in one spot. FATHER would force jim to create an invention for Jillian which would make her fight her the others. Team Blaze were trying to get the others together. Sidney's group fought Takei and questioned was he an Anti-Sapien. The Anti-Sapiens have finally made it to Togyu Manji. FATHER was shown with a new Anti-Sapien. What will happen now? FATHER" I'm glad that you are here." Rmpage" Pleasure doing business with you." FATHER" We are nearly there." Rampage" I sense some good spirit energy. Let me make a quick stop." FATHER" Make it quick." Rampage challenges some people.
Rampage" Who is next?" Geo appears and says" I guess I am now." Rampage thinks" That spirit energy. He's one of the strong ones. I can see it in his eyes." Geo struggles to keep up with his strikes. Geo" He's strong. Too strong. He surpassed my hand to hand. He's not ordinary(thoughts)."fight over. They finally make it to the others. Rampage" So these are the other Anti-Sapiens." FATHER begins to laugh. FATHER" It's about damn time. We are finally one. We will make the world suffer. Feel our wrath." Everyone laughs as well. Team Blaze are shown. Corroshi" Eyashi. What brings you guys here?"
Eyashi" We have actually discovered something. We've got word that the Anti-Sapiens are joining up. I believe it is going to be here." Corroshi" Why do you think that?" Fasha" Togyu Manji is a very large area. They probably want to takeover here. And besides, there's a lot of incidents that occur here anyways." Corroshi" Nice response." Zushi" We needed to round up everyone and warn them. We need everyone here. We need your help." Corroshi" You can count on me." Sez" Hey Corroshi?" Corroshi turns around says" Do I know you?" Sez" It's me Sez. From the tournament." Corroshi" Oh yeah. I remember you not. You are the one who tried to cheat." Sez" That's me." Corroshi" So why did you come back?"
Sez" I heard you moved wanted to know if you let you join your team?" Corroshi" Well of course you can. Welcome aboard!" Sez" Aw thanks." Geo and the others aren't there yet. Now everyone is together. Rischardo" Since we're up against Anti-Sapiens, I want everybody to know this. If any of you see Anti-Sapiens named Ira and Danly Indies, there my kids and I'll deal with them. Ira has red hair and Danly has orange hair." Everyone is training with each other. Julmbo" Hey Fasha." Fasha" Yes." Julmbo" Let me see your blade." She does. Julmbo" I see. There is something I need to teach you. Reincarnation." Fasha" Reincarnation?" Julmbo" It's the ability to fix broken Extension Blades."
He breaks his blade. Julmbo" Reincarnation!" The blade has fixed itself. Fasha" Wow that's going to take some time." Julmbo" Nonsense. With your skills you'll master it in no time." He continues to train Fasha. MaXx, Haden, and Sid are lifting weights. MaXx and Haden get into an altercation. MaXx's eyes turn black. MaXx" I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!" MaXx' Dark Seal interrupts. He raises his blade towards Haden. Eyashi uses his speed and gets in between(has his hands out separating them)them and says" Brothers shouldn't fight! MaXx don't let them darkness consume you." He snaps out of it. MaXx" You're right." Thank you." His eyes return. Keira Saja goes towards Sid and says" I want to be just like you, Fasha, Phil, and the others."
Sid" What do you mean Keira?" Keira" I wish I had powers so I could protect you guys and fight alongside you. If CJ could have power behind I could. I wanted to know if you would train me?" Sid" Ah yeah. Sure. First I need you to hit my fists." She does. Sid" Good but harder. " Phil and Fasha laughs(good laughs). Keira continues to work on her strikes. Cumi name change. Was supposed to sound like cute. New name. Cuimi(kwee-me). Cuemi(q-me). Cuimi(c-oo-me). New name is Cuemi. Cuemi has a vision. Cuemi" Wait! There are these people and there are shredded. We have to save them." Corroshi" Where are they?" They are headed out.
People are on the ground, all cut up. Domay" Who could have done this." Ishani" I think I am going to be sick." She almost throws up. They hear a knife sound cutting together. They go check it out. There's a man standing on dead bodies with his back turn. He turns around and has knives in his hands. Geo" It's him!" He charges and attacks. Eyon" You know this guy?" Geo" This guy was challenging people and he beat me. Hand to hand combat. He is not ordinary. I knew it was slomething about the guy." Rampage" Right you are." He shows off his Anti-Sapien symbol on the left shoulder.
Arc Notes- Spirit Cuffs. Wind Slice Attack. Sid spit lightning attack works with fire (combine together) FATHER. Light Power heal chair. Rade plant lady. Geo likes to eat but Yolmmo eats more. Rade uses Genesis to get information without having to leave his spot. He tells to Eyashi Arc 6. Rade apple. Draum takes Hydro Corps with Justice Drivers. Keina Kiyoshi 7. Last time on opening Arc 6. Arc 7 lot demons. Sez Unemori gadget style. Sakura Hurata Arc 5. Korin Kore. 11th grade. Soothsayer short witch attire. Go to school together. Gru boxing style. Sid, Phil and Fasha back to back. Nara Haseku. Frogg Kikio 4. How to do Fire Morph. Archer. Wind Swallow. Shadow Spea Sabitist Lemaru pike. Blaze rich. Call me Darkness. Tijiri Akaru. Ball shape. Anti-Sapien Hydro Corps. Reincarnation. Massk story. Talk about mask. Body weapon/ absorb/keep power. Absorb blades. Sid and Phil extend fists before the fight. Sidney lots of Anti-Sapiens appearing frequently. Jim dies but will be blame on Team Blaze. Lady Lightning puts Haden to sleep. To spark or not to spark. Burnt mouth. HarpeHeather. Jakob Akali one hand. Buzz bugs covering body. Draum stronger than the demons. Danly I am a demon. Wiggy wig talk to her. Ignoramus. Genesis. Anti-Sapiens Cliff.
Sidney's group. Tiger=Donta. Bear=Yoshatora. Gorilla=Jasin
Mind Controller- Dwells into the person's mind and uses their memories against them. Making the mind attack it's owner.
Team Earth: Corroshi Setse(all styles/fire fav)(master), Geo Kazy(Dragon style/Jeet Kune Do), Eyon Yoshi(Lightning/fire), Yolmmo Usay(wateice) Domay Usay(wind), Korr Yoshi, Kunesuke Atara(glasses/reads/black/lady's man), Su Lin(Eyon's girlfriend/Chinese/not black), Ishani Sharma(Indian skin/not black/turban/Yolmmo's)
Hydro Corps: Sodum Hydro(leader), Coracoona/Charzie Anderson(not black), Dornymious(door-nee-me-us)Ryeno or Rhyno(Rhino/not black/charges), Shune Tuche(to-shay/special suit and mask/great hunter)
Areas- Tohoku Japan(setting/West Japan), Togyu Manji(Sid's home), Conithio Town, Kurai (dark) Haitsu(heights), Renyu Haito, Shiawasena Michi(happy road), Hausada, Heteritoke Town, Kibakoru(near a bakery), Ryusoka (ree-u-so-kah)Tofa,(small town), Zuloko Ikiki(large area), Uketa(oo-kee-tah) Sada(near a graveyard area), Sushun(Soul Snatcher's headquarters), Osaka Japan(western Japan)(Team Earth's original home), Kanta Japan(eastern Japan), Burakkubēsu(means black base)/(Black Widow's hideout),
Greater Demons-Balaam and Dracula
Notes-Mirror asylum. Plache appears arc 6. Rade is a scientist. Wants Kikia to give up her organization. He uses a dark gass it turns people into demons. Erika, Keira Umo, Eyashi, Zushi, and others become demons put into a facility. Must find antidote. Rade has all the demons power Who died. Haden arm becomes demon like but hasn't turned yet. Kikia will stick him with a syringe. Demon form wears off. Arc 6. Haden and MaXx can't win. demon souls. Airball- can be small or large/chargeable. Eyashi- Wind of the Dragon Punch. Charge fist then strike the enemy/enemies. Late effect. Final blow will feel like a combination of all the punches in one. Maybe Phil. Dead Beat- idea demon/creature. Strider punches mountain/Gru move mountain. Camme punches Sid.
Lightning Beam (Death Beam). Eyashi got 3 main bosses to like him. Absorb moves/spirt energy. Thunder Strike/plow. Rischardo Underworld fighting scene. Dragon Breath. Heat Vision. Hot as Hell move. Double jump. Liba Tezu. Kiko glasses. Anti-Sapiens jump off cliff and wake up. We're twins..cousins Fasha. That arm. You're a Soul Killer. You have the red flpower. It's you. Punch/ uppercut Thunder Rider. MaXx grabs it and throws it back. Saundra asks for Sid's name. She tells Ryu. He appears and sees Sid.
Charging fist Sid and Phil. Regular male student too many female characters. Genesis. Rade uses rings to cuff bodyl/Freak Ring Circus/Spirit Ring Cuff. Dragon Flare origin during Bosch's story. Burning Impalememet Sid. Surfing Ice Blade works with other elements. Sid used first with Reaper Sajettus then Fasha with Rudiaslaudia and Sakura used. 1st Lt Alex Mohoto. The Hydro Corps. Eyon vs Tairon was controlled. Fēng's blade Dragon Heart. Dark Matter. Haden purple lightning. When Danly dies, Rischardo will be shown/ Flashbacks shown/will say his son's name. Velencya bird. Corri Howbori. Sid lightning style against Blaze. Lightning Slash. Spirit energy. Rischardo trains Sid. Underwater. Keira says I want to be like you sid train her. Destruction/Destructional Saucer(disk) Domay. Hall of the Gods. Gods on left and Goddesses on right. Gods of Time. Rischardo warns his Greater Demons. Rischardo runs into them later Arc last straw. Camme can't fly. Lightning and wind Morph speed.
Ra-Ibo and Kungaru power greater than God of Spirit world and demonic king

Imagination travels according to habit. Imagination has choice, but it chooses according to habit. Awake or asleep, man's imagination is constrained to follow certain definite patterns. It is this benumbing influence of habit that man must change; if he does not, his dreams will fade under the paralysis of custom.” - Neville Goddard
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So, why is it hard to change habits? Neville states that Imagination follows the custom of habit. As a behavioral scientist, I study human motivation and have it regularly.
This article could be helpful to a few people. We must understand that identity is nothing more than a habit of repeated memories. On top of this repetition, we get neurochemicals like dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin.
Yes, we even bond with the beliefs that we hold are true even if we don’t want them to be.
Remember, the Imagination is always creating. But, so is habit. That’s where habits originate. Habits originate out of our interpretation of the world around us. If we grow up in a world where we are not loved, then the habit that you will be accustomed to, is thinking of yourself as a person who is worthy of rejection.
Therefore, most of your desires, whether money, houses, or anything else will tend to be painted by this particular color of interpretation.
It is true, although cliché, that everywhere you go, there you are. It would help if you got to the depth of what that means. Because, if you’re experiencing the same problem repeatedly, he/she was not with the problem. The issue is with you and your self-concept. (Read my article on what that is).
There is a lot that is regurgitated in these articles here on Reddit. We seem to all share similar truths over and again. There is nothing wrong with the regurgitation, but I have to ask why is it regurgitated at all? Mainly to this point, have it much like anything else, embedded in our psyche through repetition.
According to research, the way that habits work is that they need an identity. If you want to simplify what Neville is talking about, when he uses the word STATE, you can insert the word identity. Never defined the state as your body of beliefs. These are held together by our identities.
According to science, change costs too much energy to our brain. Plus a host of other reasons:
"When we feel uncertain or anxious, our fight or flight mechanisms are mobilised. Resources are diverted from the frontal lobe area, which we use for higher-level intellectual functioning, and become focused instead on survival.
Our capacity for rational thought is thus diminished, and even when the change is a good idea, we still resist it.
Our response to change may be summarised as follows:

• Change (uncertainty)
• Threat response (fight or flight)
• Increased anxiety and fear
• Reduced ability to focus and think clearly
• Impaired performance and increased emotion"

Fear of changing your STATE makes you SO irrational that you think not changing is the most rational thing you can do. And this is key to also understand - states can be changed in many ways - through our 5 senses. Meaning, change doesn't just happen through belief. Change can also happen through hearing. Through tasting. Through feeling. Through touch, and so on. But, as you will see below there are many ways you can go about changing yourself. Revision is another tool and technique that most are either confused about, or don't believe it works.
But, even neuroscience (and physics - via Neville's conversation with Richard Feynman) demonstrates that memories (and energy) can be reversed/replaced. In neuroscience, its inferred as neuroplasticity - the brain's ability to grow, learn and CHANGE.
Why is it important to understand the inner workings of how our identities and states work? Because if we don’t understand them, we can’t change them. It would be like trying to fix an engine without any knowledge of what an engine is at all.
THE INEVITABLE: CHANGE.
Change must be the inevitable component of our experience as manifest. Change is pretty scary though. We have to be honest about that. It’s OK to be honest about that. Because change costs to a lot.
The way that the Bible talks about it, is using the language of old and new. The old man. The old wine skins. The old ways. These are all metaphors for the spiritual changes necessary to take place with him first before we see our new world emerge. But the old is a pattern of thinking.
The Hebrew word for old is connected to the word, obsolete. There is no more use for it. But even further than that, if you break down the ancient etymology of the word. It means to sleep.
What does this mean? To live and inhabit is a form of spiritual death. To live in habit is to not be a person of awareness. To be driven by habits you no longer want to be driven by is to become Useless and the spiritually biblical sense.
YOU ARE ONLY AS USEFUL AS...
But, let’s take this further. Because that word is not just talking about us. It’s talking about the habit itself. The habit itself becomes useless. It’s only useful to us because we’ve tied it to an identity that thinks it has Value.
In this sense, we must get good at turning the art of perceiving all of the habits, we don’t want to align with in our lives, as things that are wasting our time and growth.
So, where do we go from here? Well, I think it would be a waste of an article without giving you some science backed tip on how to change. Always remember, its changes it from within first then has the impact on the outside. It goes like this in science-backed:
EMOTIONS FEELINGS PERCEPTIONS - ACTIONS.
Yes, emotions come BEFORE feelings according to endless amounts of research - as feelings (which is a form of KNOWING for Neville, not emotions) which is what shapes our perceptions.

• Disidentify with the person who acts/believes the way you want to remove. Yes, think of it as a removal. Start talking (you can also write this down as a 3rd person story -which creates a powerful cognitive separation between you and your old self) of your current self as a stranger you once met. Always talk in the past tense.

Then, do the same, kind of, with the new person. Except, now only speak of this person in the first person, or write the story (again and again) in the first person. Begin only using present tense. You have to give this a minimum of 14 days straight (if you fail on day 13, start again) for it to work. You don't have to write it down, but it does help - if you do, continue in that habit daily.
Begin experiencing your waking life as a person. It will take time. You've got this!

This is my ficnapping of The Power of Forgiveness by u/Espazilious. If you're here and you haven't read it yet, (why?) do it now! Anyways, here it is.
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Memory Transcription Subject: Dan Hayes, Human Resident of Venlil 4
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Date (standardized human time): January 24th, 2137
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I woke unpeacefully, jolted awake by the doorbell going off. I stared at the ceiling for a good few moments, trying to banish the dreams that weren’t fading quickly enough and hoping whoever it was would go away. To the annoyance of my sleepy mind, the doorbell rang again.
I grumbled and yanked the blankets off me. Damn was it good to sleep in my own bed without an alien squeezing my lungs for hours. Speaking of, Sparci wasn’t in sight. The Farsul must have scampered off while I was still sleeping.
I groggily ambled around to the front door and unlocked it. Outside was a Venlil with an, admittedly, adorable little uniform. I looked down at the delivery person, having completely forgotten to put on my mask.
The poor sheep staggered backward as soon as they saw my face. There was also a box, markedly larger than I could comfortably carry. How the scrawny Venlil got it up here, I didn’t know. Nor did I really care.
“Hey, I almost forgot about this thing. Glad it's finally here, though,” I casually said. “You need me to sign anything?”
“U-Uh. Y-Yes. Please.” They raised their appendage with the holographic screen for me to see. I waved my finger around, signifying my identity with nought more than a single curvy line. They wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyways.
“Thanks.” I put my hands on either side of the box and tugged, sliding the box into my humble dwelling. I pushed the door shut before the Venlil could do anything else and began to shove it further into the main living space.
“What is that?” Sparci pondered, suddenly emerging from off the couch. He must have been reading, or something, while I was still asleep. At least I don’t have to worry about him answering the door, I suppose.
“What does it look like?” I retorted.
“A box.”
“Amazing.”
“Well…” he pouted. “What’s inside of it?”
“Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“The stuff that I have to ship across the damn galaxy and pay way too fucking much on shipping fees. All this crap is only found on Earth.”
He stood still for a moment, thinking of what to say. I waited patiently.
“Can… Can I see?”
I quickly grabbed a knife. I sliced through the tape, then slowly drew my gaze to Sparci. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Of c—Wait, why do you say it like that?”
“Once you lay your eyes on what’s in this box, you may never be the same.”
There was a twitch of his ears. “Uhm… Okay?”
I slowly lifted the lid, pausing for dramatic effect. Unfortunately, Sparci wasn’t playing along with my foreboding box unfolding. He took a few steps forward to peek inside as I began to dig through it.
The first thing in the box I spotted was a reflective mesh in the shape of a bowl; the ideal tool to teach those damn wet noodles a lesson. Never again.
I fished it out of the box and handed it to Sparci. “Here.”
His ears perked up. “What is this?”
“A hat,” I deadpanned. “You can wear it, if you want.”
He studied me. It took all of my willpower to keep every muscle in my face straight, and by some divine power, I managed to do it by the time he took it from my hand. I quickly looked away, doing my very best to not imagine him wearing a strainer atop his head.
After pulling out some less interesting items, including some spaghetti sauce, Sparci spoke, “I thought it would be more. Um. Comfortable?”
I looked up. Oh lord, forgive me, and bless this poor innocent soul.
His poor ears were being smushed against his head by the dome of shiny metal lattice. The rim of the thing came to a rest right at the end of his snout, leaving his eyes partially hidden. At least he could see me, a little. Overall, he looked exactly as I expected an alien wearing a strainer to look.
“Yeah,” I forced a laugh back into my throat. “Works better on a human, I think.”
He took it off and gave it back to me. “I want to see.”
I spun it around in my hands, contemplating his words. It would only be fair. In a decidedly smooth motion, I flipped it onto my head, feeling the metal scratch against my scalp. He studied me, hopefully in awe, but realistically in confusion.
In a strange burst of compulsion, I tipped the rim at Sparci. “M’lady.”
“What?”
Immediate regret. “Nothing.”
“Is that a human greeting?”
“No. And don’t ever repeat what I just said. Ever.”
His ears pulled back in what I guessed to be fear, or maybe shock. “O-Okay.”
I quickly yanked the strainer off my head and threw it into the kitchen. I was aiming for the sink, but it came short and clattered to the floor in a mocking fashion.
“Anyways,” I resumed. “Let’s see what else I got.”
Before I could look back in the box, Sparci was already pointing inside of it. “What are those?”
He was motioning towards a brightly colored package full of sugary treats. “Those are gummy b-” I stopped myself. Would it be wrong to lie about what the shapes represented? Would it be worth it to see if he liked them? The answer to both questions was, undoubtedly, yes.
“They’re gummy candies,” I continued, reaching for the package. “You wanna try one?”
“Yes. Please.”
I ripped open the package and handed him a small yellow bear; the worst flavor. He took it, and while I popped a green one into my mouth he spun it around in his paw.
“What is it supposed to look like? It’s almost like a Zurulian.”
I frowned, realizing I was worried about the wrong thing. “Um. These have existed for far longer than we’ve been spacefaring, so that’s just a coincidence.”
“But that still doesn’t answer my question.”
Damnit. How do I explain this to him? A predator eating a candy version of another predator. That’s about as bad as it can get for these aliens.
“I dunno,” I said. “People just make weird stuff sometimes. Give it a try.”
He gingerly placed it into his mouth and began to chew. He eventually swallowed it, without much reaction.
“No reaction at all?”
“Sugar,” he admitted.
“Yeah, fair enough.” I put the gummy bears on the counter and began to dig through the box again. My eyes fell upon something I had forgotten I’d been looking forward to. “Alright, I think you’re gonna like this next thing I got.”
“Hm. What is it?”
I twisted the lid off and pulled off the seal, exposing the hopefully creamy peanut butter. I paid extra for this, so it better be worth it. I noisily dug out a spoon from the drawer and stuck it into the semisolid, pulling out a nice dollop of it. As I offered it to Sparci, I had to forcibly stop myself from simply wiping it on his nose and letting him deal with the aftermath.
He gingerly took the spoon from me, giving it a sniff. “It smells… interesting.”
“I did a quick look-through on any dietary limits… mainly allergies. You should be good to go but… maybe just take a tiny lick for now.” When his ears folded in that special way, I quickly added, “It’s nothing to worry about, really.”
He stuck his tongue out the tiniest amount, taking just a drop of it into his mouth. His ears twitched, and in the time I could blink he shoved the entire spoon into his mouth.
“Itsh shticky in my mouf.”
I let out a small chortle, to my own disbelief. “Yeah, it, uh, tends to be that way. I take it you like it?” It was a dumb question, but it would make him talk with his mouth full again.
Instead, he nodded, foiling my plan. When did he learn to do that?
“You can put the spoon in the sink. When you’re done, I mean.”
He pulled it out of his mouth, completely spotless. “Can I haf shum more?”
I twisted the cap back onto the jar with vehemence. “Hell no. Do you know what this is? This is Extra Deluxe Creamy. With shipping, that’s at least six times what normal peanut butter costs. Go get your own.”
“Meow?”
“It’s less cute when your mouth is full of peanut butter,” I lied. “Try again later.”
To say he looked crestfallen would be a massive understatement. I set the jar on the counter, and made a mental note to hide it on the top shelf of a cabinet. The sneaky shit was bound to try and find it at some point.
When I got back to the box, Sparci was looking into it. He pointed at something. “What are those?”
I took out what he was referring to. “Socks.”
“Sawwcks,” he repeated. “You wear them?”
“Yeah. I need socks for my shoes and shoes for my feet. It stops me from doing that,” I gestured at the small trail of paw marks leading from the front door he’d left after the storm.
He coyly lowered his ears. “S-Sorry.”
“Whatever.” I took the package of socks and threw them into my room. I had no idea where they landed. Had to keep things entertaining for my future self, of course.
I shuffled through the rest of the box, mostly innocuous items that were apparently the most interesting thing in the world according to Sparci.
After many questions and explanations and objects thrown into my room, I finally got to what I had really been looking forward to.
“Alright, these last few things I got specifically for you.”
He dropped the pair of sunglasses he was trying to fit on his face and scurried over to me. I reached into the box and pulled out the two books. I gave them a quick look-through before giving them both to Sparci.
His expression changed several times. “What…?”
“Coloring books.”
He began to look through one of them, tail flicking with eagerness. “I recognize some of these…”
“They’re both full of animals you would find on Earth.”
He was already flipping through the second book. “There’s so many!”
I smiled. “Well, I sure hope so. There aren’t many dogs or cats, or raccoons for that matter, but I think the variety makes up for it. Oh, and don’t forget these.” I reached for the last item in the box, a 48-pack of not-so-cheap markers, and gave them to him.
His eyes sparkled as he took it into his paws, flicking over each color. “These are…”
“Better than crayons,” I finished. “And I rightfully paid for them, so you don’t need to worry about that. Oh, and I hope they aren’t too… childish? The last time I touched a coloring book was… well, I guess I don’t know, but I figured one from an alien planet would be interesting.”
His eyes looked back and forth between the books and the markers, as if he couldn’t decide which one was better.
“…do you want to go color?”
“Mhm!”
He took off. It was good to see him move so enthusiastically. What he revealed to me the night before still weighed on my mind, and he was the one that had to live through it. But now wasn’t the time to think about that. It was time for the Happy, and damn if I wasn’t going to get it.
I joined him at the table as he was flipping through pages, trying to make a choice. He managed to pick a sea turtle. Or perhaps “choose” was a strong word, as he took on a more confused expression.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I just realized I don’t know what color to pick.”
“Oh. Well, I guess I could search up a picture or a video of one. Or maybe you could color it what you think is right, and we can compare after.”
“Hmmm. The second option. But can you tell me what kind of animal this is? It doesn’t look like any of the ones from your videos.”
“It’s a sea turtle. They’re reptiles, and they spend most of their time in the ocean.”
His ears drooped. “The… ocean.”
Oh. Of course. The Archives.
“There’s plenty of kinds of turtles that live in freshwater, like rivers and lakes. If you want to color it, do it. Nothing else should matter.”
“I… guess you’re right.” He thought for a long moment before his gaze settled back on me. “Do you… want to color something?”
“Sure. Why not.”
He passed the other book to me and began to dig through the markers. He settled on orange, which I of course would not weigh in on. If anything, I was curious what he thought a turtle might look like. Plus, I would get to see what his reaction would be to seeing how the real thing compared to his colors.
I decided to pick a random color and flip to a random page. Filling in a bunch of smaller shapes to create one larger shape wasn’t exactly the most exciting thing. Although, an alien coloring book would certainly be more interesting. Maybe I should’ve looked into getting a coloring book from one of the local stores. What would aliens decide worthy of coloring?
My random choice left me creating a grass green moose. Earth grass, that is. Not some weird purple alien stuff from God knows where. Sparci was already diving into one of the turtle’s now orange flippers.
“You have any music on your pad you might wanna listen to?” I asked, the silence slowly becoming loud.
He stopped coloring and looked up at me, his brows furrowing and ears tilting back. “I’m, uh, not sure you would enjoy it.”
“You listened to me ramble on about Esoterica for a good two hours. I can at least repay the favor. Plus, I’d like to think that I’m pretty open to new music.”
He thought for another moment.
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Advancing transcript by ≈50 minutes
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“Oh! This is another really good one!” Sparci’s ears wiggled and his tail picked up some speed as another track came on. He replaced his marker for a different color.
I still hadn’t finished my green moose, and he was already on his fourth page. The other three he removed from the book and laid out across the table to see. There was his orange and brown sea turtle, a blue elephant with a cyan trunk, a school of fish colored to create a rainbow across the page, and was now working on a fairly normal looking cheetah.
“So how long ago did this one come out?” I queried.
He didn’t look up from his page. “This specific one came out around thirty years ago, but it’s a remix. The original came out about eight years before that. I can find the original if you want, but I prefer the remix, not that it’s worse, but I think the different bassline and effects they added make it just a little more to my taste. Oh, and they also replaced one of the verses with a new portion by a different singer, and it’s a lot catchier, and they manage to do that all while keeping the feeling of the song the same.”
I nodded along to the quick beat, but the translator left something to be desired. The lyrics talked about the incredulous nature of giving a ground mammal wings to fly, or something. The instrumentals were catchy enough, a blend of strings and synths. It was almost like listening to a foreign pop song.
“It sounds… kinda similar to something. Is-”
“It’s part of the same album as Teleport, so also the same artist. But like I said, it’s also a remix.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
I still couldn’t get over just how much he could talk when he was prompted with a set of ears and something he liked. And that wasn’t even mentioning that he had talked for nearly seven hours straight the moment he got his pad’s data back. Getting that worked out was probably the best thing that anyone could have done for him. It was good to see him like this. Enjoying himself.
I finished up the final details on my green moose. By stroke of my random color choice, it had bright red antlers, even though I wasn’t exactly going for a holiday theme.
I spun the book around to Sparci. “What do you think? Is it fridge-worthy?”
He slowly pulled his head up even as his eyes lingered on his page. Once he finally finished filling in the shape, he looked over my page. He stopped wagging his tail to the beat of the song. “What is that?”
“A moose.”
His ear twitched. “That’s what it looks like?”
“Hey, I didn’t judge your coloring.”
“That looks nothing like the other animals I’ve seen.”
“What did you expect? I chose random colors.”
The other ear twitched. “But aren’t you supposed to know what they look like?”
“First of all, that’s very prejudiced of you. Secondly, it was a lot more fun this way. Here, I’ll show you what an actual moose looks like.”
I pulled out my pad and quickly looked for a picture. A moment later, I had it pulled up and Sparci was looking at the animal with awe.
“That one’s brown,” he commented.
“Correct.”
“Its head things are big.”
“Yep. I should also mention that they’re huge. Like, as tall as I am, and about five times as heavy.”
His eyes went wide. “How big is its body!?”
I resisted the strong urge to slap my forehead. “No, it’s body is as tall as I am. Its antlers put it a little bit higher.”
His shock died down slightly. “Oh. That’s still huge.”
“Wait until you learn about the elephant you colored.”
His eyes darted between his colorings. “Wha…?”
I stuffed my pad away. “Welp. I think I’m done coloring. And I’m also hungry. You want some questionable fruit goop oatmeal?”
He perked a single ear. “Uhm. Yes. Please.”
I got up from my seat and shuffled into the kitchen, picking up the strainer off the floor. I put away the rest of the things, making damn sure the peanut butter was tucked away in the corner of the highest shelf of a cabinet.
I was reaching for the oatmeal when I noticed the music had paused. I looked over, seeing Sparci standing in the kitchen.
“Do you want me to show you an elephant?” I guessed.
“No. I mean, yes, but… I…” His tail twitched restlessly.
I patiently waited.
He took a breath. “Thank you. For, um, everything.”
I shrugged. “You’re welcome. But you’ll have to thank me again soon, because this oatmeal is going to be fire.”
“You… You didn’t have to do this.”
I shrugged again, setting a pot on the stove. “I was just ordering some normal stuff, and had the thought to get a pair of coloring books. It’s not that big of a deal.”
His tail curled around his leg. “But, everything else.”
I guessed even little things could mean the absolute world to someone when they were coming back from what Sparci had gone through. Was still going through.
I sighed. “Yeah. You’re welcome for everything else, too. Thanks for sharing the music. It’s, uh, definitely alien music.” Is that even a compliment?
He seemed to hesitate for a second before coming further into the kitchen towards me. His arms parted slightly, and before I knew it he had them wrapped around me. I mirrored the motion, placing my hands on his back and gently rubbing.
There was something ever so slightly different in him at that moment, as if he was more sure of how he leaned into the hug. His warmth slowly seeped into me, starkly contrasting how cold he had been when I carried him from that alley, broken and bruised.
“Thank you,” I heard him whisper.
I simply rubbed his back and let him pull away on his own. I hadn’t even realized how quiet it was without the music.
I cleared my throat. “Alright, lemme get this oatmeal going before you get hair everywhere.”
—
A/N: Oh my goodness, give this poor boy everything I have. He deserves the world. Strainers, peanut butter, my soul, whatever. And, of course, some coloring books and a good playlist to share.
Thanks to for organizing yet another ficnapping! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading!

The Pink Gorila
In the whispering darkness of Romania's ancient landscapes, a man found himself on an urgent business quest, his trusty but weary car his only steed. The journey began smoothly on the highway until a serpent-like snarl of cars halted his progress. With the aid of modern technology, he sought an alternative path, leading him into the embracing arms of winding mountain roads, under the watchful gaze of towering pines that whispered secrets of old.
As the road serpentined through the mountains, the car, much like a steed of old tales, started to protest its heavy burden. A steep ascent loomed, challenging the vehicle's resolve. The man, his heart a mix of determination and doubt, urged it onward until—a loud BANG shattered the moment, a sound reminiscent of ancient battles, echoing off the mountain walls. The car trembled and stuttered, barely cresting the hill before it succumbed to silence.
The descent was a silent glide, the only sounds being the whisper of wind and the occasional ominous hoot of an unseen owl. The car, now a silent ghost of itself, came to a rest in the embrace of the dark road. The man's hope dimmed like the fading light of his phone, the lifeline to the outside world now a dying ember.
Determined, he set forth on foot, the crunch of gravel underfoot his constant companion. The road gave way to a mysterious path, leading to a gate that groaned and moaned like a creature from a bygone era as it allowed him passage. The mansion that awaited was a giant, slumbering in the moonlight, its grandeur both awe-inspiring and unsettling.
The giant wooden doors opened with a groan, revealing a world untouched by time. The butler, a silent specter, led the man through halls adorned with echoes of grandeur and whispers of the past. The invitation to stay was both a blessing and a veil to a mystery that lay deeper within the heart of the mansion.
The butler's revelation of the pink gorilla was a scene straight from the pages of a gothic novel, the creature a vibrant anomaly in the shadowed room. The man's curiosity, once piqued, became an obsession, leading him through the mansion's veins, driven by the need to uncover the truth.
The final confrontation, a cacophony of sounds—shrieks of bent metal, the furious roar of the gorilla, and the desperate pounding of the man's heart—culminated in a moment of surreal humor. "You're it," the gorilla declared, a sentence that hung in the air like a twisted punchline, blending fear, confusion, and an absurd sense of camaraderie.
In this extended tale, the journey through Romania's heartland became not just a physical trial but a voyage into the unexpected, where every creak, roar, and silent whisper wove a richer tapestry of adventure, mystery, and an unforgettable encounter with the surreal.
As the echo of the gorilla's declaration faded into the night, the man stood frozen, a cocktail of emotions swirling within him. The absurdity of the situation clashed with the primal fear that had gripped him moments before, leaving him in a state of bewildered amusement. The gorilla, having delivered its message, seemed to regard him with a semblance of curiosity, its eyes glinting in the moonlight that filtered through the torn roof of the car.
The man, now catching his breath, realized the predicament he found himself in was far from ordinary. He was in the heart of Romania, face to face with a creature that defied explanation, in a scenario that seemed to leap from the pages of a storybook. Yet, here he was, his heart pounding not just from fear but from the thrill of the unexpected.
With a newfound resolve, he decided to embrace the madness of the moment. "Well, I suppose it's my turn then," he said, more to himself than to the gorilla, who seemed to cock its head slightly, as if understanding. The man slowly exited the remnants of his car, cautiously stepping around the gorilla, which surprisingly made no move to stop him.
As he walked back towards the mansion, a plan began to form in his mind. He would find the butler, demand answers, and perhaps, just perhaps, turn this nightmarish adventure into an opportunity. After all, not everyone can say they've played tag with a pink gorilla in a Romanian mansion.
The mansion, now silent, seemed to watch his return with a sense of anticipation. The doors, once daunting, now invited him in, as if welcoming him back from a journey of initiation. Inside, the mansion was a labyrinth of shadows and whispers, the history of its walls mingling with the man's own story.
He found the butler in the grand foyer, polishing an ancient vase with a care that seemed out of place in the chaos of the night. "Ah, you've returned. And how did you find our resident jest?" the butler asked, without turning, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space.
The man, pausing to catch his breath, replied, "I believe it's my turn now." The butler simply nodded, as if this was the expected response, and gestured for the man to follow him once more.
This time, their destination was not the hidden cage but a library filled with books that seemed as ancient as the mansion itself. The butler handed him a tome, its cover worn by time, titled "The Lore of the Land." "Perhaps this will shed some light on your encounter," the butler suggested, before leaving the man alone with his thoughts and the book.
As the first light of dawn began to filter through the tall windows, the man poured over the pages, discovering tales of creatures and legends that painted a world beyond the ordinary, a world where perhaps, a pink gorilla in a Romanian mansion wasn't so out of place after all.
His adventure, which began as a simple business trip, had transformed into a journey of discovery, not just of the mysteries hidden in the heart of Romania but of his own capacity for wonder and belief in the extraordinary. As the sun rose, casting a golden glow over the mansion, the man knew that no matter the outcome of his original quest, he had already uncovered a story worth more than any deal he could have hoped to close.
As the dawn's light unfurled across the sprawling estate, casting shadows and revelations in equal measure, the man felt a profound shift within. The mansion, with its myriad secrets and whispered histories, seemed no longer a mere relic of the past but a living, breathing entity that had chosen him to unveil one of its countless mysteries. The book in his hands, a bridge to the arcane and the marvelous, whispered of worlds parallel yet intersecting with our own, where the fabric of reality was thinner, and the extraordinary danced closely with the mundane.
The lore of the pink gorilla, as he discovered, was not merely an oddity to be puzzled over but a guardian of thresholds, a creature that manifested to those at the cusp of significant personal revelations or crossroads. The lore suggested that an encounter with such a being was not random but a deeply personal challenge, an invitation to explore the unknown corridors of one's life and perhaps, to redefine the boundaries of what was considered possible.
Emboldened by this knowledge, the man decided that his journey was far from over; it had, in fact, just begun. He resolved to leave behind the constraints of his previous ambitions and embrace the path of discovery that lay before him. With the mansion as his starting point, he would delve deeper into the mysteries of the land, seeking out the ancient, the hidden, and the mystical.
As he set forth from the mansion, the butler, now less a servant and more a guide, bestowed upon him a parting gift—a compass, not for navigation by conventional means, but one that pointed towards the extraordinary. "May this guide you to the wonders that await," the butler said, his eyes twinkling with a knowledge that seemed as vast as the lore contained within the mansion's walls.
The man stepped outside, the air fresh with the promise of the morning, and looked back at the mansion one last time. It stood majestic and serene, a keeper of secrets and tales untold, now a beacon in his quest for the extraordinary. He turned away, his heart alight with possibilities, and set off into the sunrise, the land stretching out before him like a canvas waiting for new stories to be painted.
His encounter with the pink gorilla, now a cherished memory, served as a reminder that the world was far more wondrous and complex than he had ever imagined. Each step forward was a step into the unknown, a chance to uncover the magic hidden in plain sight, waiting for those brave enough to seek it out.
And so, the man's journey continued, each day a new chapter in a saga of discovery, each encounter a thread in the tapestry of a life redefined by wonder and a boundless quest for the extraordinary. The road ahead was uncharted, the stories waiting to be told infinite, and the world a place of endless marvels, forever changed by one night, one mansion, and one pink gorilla that dared him to dream bigger.
As the man ventured deeper into the landscapes that sprawled beyond the mansion's boundaries, each step took him further from the world he knew and closer to the realms of the unexplained and the mystical. The compass given by the butler did not point north, but towards anomalies of nature and hidden enclaves of magic. Its needle quivered and spun, leading him through forests that whispered ancient secrets, across rivers that sang of lost loves, and over hills that murmured with stories of battles long forgotten.
His first destination was a village whispered about in the mansion's lore, a place where the veil between the worlds was said to be thinnest on nights when the moon hid its face. The villagers, at first wary of the stranger, soon opened their doors and hearts to him, sharing tales of their ancestors who walked with spirits and commanded the elements. Here, the man learned the language of the trees and the songs of the stars, each lesson weaving into him a deeper connection with the world around him.
One night, under a cloak of starless darkness, he was taken to a clearing in the woods where the villagers gathered to witness the dance of the spirits. As the air filled with the hum of ancient chants, shadows began to dance at the edge of his vision, twirling and weaving around a fire that burned with a green flame. The man watched, spellbound, as the divide between the worlds blurred, and for a moment, he felt the touch of the unknown—a feeling both exhilarating and humbling.
With each encounter, the man's perception of reality expanded. The compass led him next to a mountain where the wind spoke in riddles, and he spent a moon cycle deciphering its words, each answer revealing a layer of the world's fabric he had never imagined. On the peak, amidst clouds that whispered of eternity, he found a stone that pulsed with the heart of the mountain—a gem that glowed with an inner light, guiding him further on his quest.
His journey was not without trials. There were paths that led into darkness, where fears and doubts rose like specters to challenge his resolve. But with each step forward, he shed layers of his former self, finding strength in vulnerability and power in the acceptance of the unknown.
The man realized that the true journey was not just about uncovering the wonders of the world but also discovering the depths of his own spirit. He encountered beings of light and shadow, each teaching him that balance was the key to harmony and that every light casts a shadow. He learned to walk the tightrope between worlds, embracing both the light and the dark within himself.
Years passed, seasons turned, and legends grew around the figure of a man who walked the borders of reality, a seeker of truths hidden and a bearer of stories untold. To some, he was a myth, a symbol of the eternal quest for understanding and connection. To others, he was a reminder that the world is far vaster and more mysterious than it appears, that magic lies in belief, and that the extraordinary is all around, waiting for those with the courage to seek it.
And so, the man who once sought only to close a deal for his company became a traveler of the liminal, a bridge between the seen and the unseen, forever changed by a night at a mansion and a pink gorilla that showed him the endless possibilities of the 'what if.' His journey became a testament to the power of curiosity and the human spirit's unyielding desire to explore the wonders of the universe.
In the tapestry of his adventures, the man discovered not just the external marvels of a world unseen but also the internal landscapes of his own soul. With each step into the unknown, he peeled back layers of himself, revealing strengths and vulnerabilities he never knew he possessed. The journey became less about the destinations and more about the transformation within, a metamorphosis catalyzed by the pursuit of the extraordinary.
As seasons melded into years, his tales wove into the fabric of the local lore, a collection of stories that inspired those who heard them to look beyond their own horizons. The man, now a wanderer of realms both earthly and ethereal, realized that his journey had no end, for the pursuit of wonder is infinite, and the path of discovery eternal.
In his travels, he encountered communities that, hidden from the modern world, preserved the essence of magic that once flourished unbridled across the land. He learned the ancient arts of healing from a wise woman whose garden was a mosaic of herbs and enchantments. From a silent monk atop a snow-capped peak, he mastered the art of listening, hearing the whispers of the wind and the songs of the stars. Each encounter, each lesson, was a thread in the rich tapestry of his evolving journey.
But it was in the quiet moments, when he stood alone under the canopy of stars, that the man found the deepest connection to the universe. It was then he understood that every star was a story, every breeze a song, and every stone a testament to the timeless dance of creation. He realized that magic did not exist apart from the world but was woven into the very fabric of existence, visible to those who chose to see.
His legend grew, not as a mere traveler or seeker of oddities but as a guardian of the gateways between worlds, a protector of the ancient truths and mysteries that bind the universe together. People from far and wide sought him, not just for his knowledge but for the light he carried within, a beacon of hope and wonder in an age of skepticism and forgetfulness.
Eventually, the man understood that his journey was also a return, a spiral that led not only outward into the depths of mystery but inward to the heart of his own being. He found peace in the balance of opposites, in the harmony of light and shadow, and in the understanding that every end is but a new beginning.
As he stood on a cliff overlooking the sea, where the sky met the water in an endless embrace, the man reflected on the path that had led him here. He thought of the pink gorilla, the mansion, the butler, and the countless souls he had met along the way. With a heart full of gratitude, he realized that his quest had been not just for the wonders of the world but for the rediscovery of wonder within.
With the horizon stretching before him, the man set down his compass, now understanding that the true direction was always guided by the heart. As the sun dipped below the sea, casting the world in a glow of gold and crimson, he took a deep breath, ready for whatever adventures awaited.
For in a universe of endless possibilities, the journey is never truly over; it only transforms, leading the seeker on new paths, through new doors, and into new realms of wonder. And so, with the stars as his map and his heart as his compass, the man stepped forward, into the next chapter of a story that is as old as time and as new as the next sunrise.
But the narrative of the man, now a timeless wanderer, takes a poignant turn, reflecting the essence of every journey. With the breadth of the world woven into the fabric of his spirit, he sought to impart the wisdom gained from the myriad paths tread and the countless stars counted. The wanderer, once a seeker, became a storyteller, a custodian of tales that bridged worlds and hearts.
In villages and cities, in valleys and atop mountains, he shared stories that kindled the flames of curiosity and wonder in the listeners. His tales were not just recounts of adventures but parables of connection, resilience, and the undying quest for understanding. Through his words, the veil between the mundane and the magical grew thinner, reminding all that wonder did not reside in distant lands but within the grasp of those who dared to dream and look beyond.
His legacy, however, was not merely in the tales told under the moon's soft glow or beside the hearth's warm fire. It was in the sparks ignited in the souls of those who listened, a chain reaction of wonder that transcended time and space. Children who listened with wide-eyed wonder grew up to explore their own paths, discovering new stories to add to the ever-expanding tapestry of human endeavor and cosmic ballet.
As seasons changed and the wheel of time spun, the wanderer's steps grew slower, his journey taking him closer to the heart of existence itself. He ventured into the realm of silence, where the whispers of the universe were clearest, seeking the source of the magic that had fueled his journey. Here, in the quietude of being, he found the ultimate truth that his journey had circled around: that all of existence is interconnected, a symphony of light and shadow, where every soul plays a note in the grand orchestral work of the cosmos.
In this realization, the wanderer saw that his journey had been both outward and inward, a spiral dance that led to the core of existence where all stories began and ended. He understood that his legacy was not the tales he'd told or the wonders he'd unveiled but the reminder that the journey is infinite, and every end is a new beginning.
With this knowledge, the wanderer found a place to rest, a tranquil nexus where all paths intersected. He became a beacon, a lighthouse for those navigating their own voyages through the tempests and tranquilities of life. And as he shared this final piece of wisdom—that the greatest adventure lies in the discovery of one's own soul—he completed his transformation from a man on a quest to a timeless guide, a mentor to the seekers, dreamers, and storytellers who would follow the trails he had blazed.
And so, the story of the wanderer weaves into the greater story of humanity, a reminder that the journey never truly ends. It is passed from one soul to another, through words and silence, in the hope that the magic of wonder, the quest for connection, and the pursuit of the extraordinary will forever illuminate the path of those who walk the earth, gazing at the stars and dreaming of the infinite.
In the continuum of time, where the wanderer's tale merges with the cosmos, his essence diffuses into the fabric of existence, becoming a part of the universal consciousness. This transformation marks not an end but an evolution, a transcendence from physical journeys to ethereal guidance, where his spirit continues to inspire across dimensions.
In the ethereal plane, the wanderer's insights become whispers in the wind, ripples in the water, and twinkles in the night sky, accessible to all who find themselves lost or in search of deeper truths. His presence is felt in the sudden inspirations that strike at the quiet of dawn, in the courage that rises amidst storms, and in the peace that descends with twilight's embrace.
As the world spins and generations rise and fall, the wanderer's tales, now part of the collective mythos, foster a legacy of exploration and introspection. They serve as a compass for the soul, guiding those who seek to break the fetters of the ordinary and embark on journeys of their own, whether through physical realms or the landscapes of the mind and spirit.
Temples, not of stone but of thought and intention, arise in his honor, places where seekers gather to share stories, wisdom, and insights, creating a web of interconnectedness that spans the globe. These gatherings, illuminated by the fire of curiosity and the glow of fellowship, become beacons of light in a world that, at times, seems overshadowed by the mundane and the material.
In these spaces, the wanderer's teachings evolve into a philosophy of life, a path that embraces the beauty of the unknown and the power of the human spirit to transcend limitations. It is a call to view each day as an adventure, each challenge as a riddle to be solved, and each interaction as a thread in the intricate tapestry of the collective human experience.
As the philosophy spreads, touching hearts and awakening minds, the wanderer's spirit journeys alongside those who dare to dream, explore, and discover. He becomes a guardian of dreams, an ally in the quest for meaning, and a guide to those who navigate the myriad paths of life.
The wanderer's journey, which began as a solitary quest, culminates in a universal voyage, a collective endeavor to uncover the mysteries of existence and the wonders of the cosmos. It is a journey that transcends time, space, and dimension, uniting all in the quest for knowledge, understanding, and connection.
And thus, the story continues, a perpetual narrative woven into the very essence of existence, inviting all to join in the eternal dance of the cosmos. The wanderer's tale becomes not just a story but a living testament to the indomitable spirit of exploration, a call to embrace the infinite journey of discovery, understanding, and connection that defines the human condition.
In this unending story, every soul is both a wanderer and a storyteller, contributing their verse to the endless poem of existence, where every end is a beginning, and the journey is eternal, bound only by the limits of imagination and the depth of one's courage to explore the vast, uncharted territories of the heart and the heavens.
In the ever-expanding narrative of existence, where each soul’s journey intertwines with the fabric of the universe, the legacy of the wanderer becomes a cosmic echo, resonating through the ages. This resonance is not confined to the tales of old or the whispers of the wind but lives in the heartbeats of those who carry the torch of exploration and curiosity into the future.
As civilizations advance and technology bridges the gaps between stars, the essence of the wanderer guides humanity's steps into the cosmos. His spirit, a beacon of adventure and discovery, illuminates the path for those who navigate the infinite expanse of space, seeking not conquest but connection, not dominion but understanding.
In this new era of exploration, the wanderer's teachings transform into principles that govern the interaction between worlds and cultures. The ethos of respect, wonder, and a thirst for knowledge transcends the boundaries of planets, becoming a universal language that unites different forms of life across the galaxy. The wanderer’s legacy, now embedded in the collective consciousness, inspires a federation of worlds, each unique yet bound by common values of exploration, peace, and the shared quest for the mysteries of the universe.
This federation, a testament to the wanderer's dream, embarks on voyages that span light-years, delving into the unknown depths of the cosmos. Each expedition carries the spirit of the wanderer, each discovery a tribute to his unyielding curiosity. These journeys reveal the interconnectedness of all existence, showcasing the myriad ways life expresses itself across the vast canvas of space. Through these encounters, humanity learns not only of the diversity of the cosmos but also of its own place within the grand scheme of existence.
As the federation explores, it encounters phenomena that defy explanation, mysteries that echo the tales of magic and wonder that the wanderer once pursued on his own terrestrial journey. These mysteries, remnants of the universe's creation and markers of its evolution, offer glimpses into the forces that weave the fabric of reality. They serve as reminders that, despite the advances in knowledge and technology, the universe will always harbor enigmas, inviting those with the courage to explore them.
In this ongoing voyage, the wanderer's story becomes more than a legend; it becomes the guiding ethos for a civilization venturing beyond the cradle of Earth. It teaches that exploration is not just a physical journey but a voyage of the spirit, a quest to understand not only the universe but also the soul’s infinite potential.
And so, as ships bearing the emblem of the federation traverse the star-studded void, the wanderer’s legacy endures, a timeless narrative that continues to inspire those who look upon the night sky not as a boundary but as an invitation. The story of the wanderer, once a solitary figure traversing the shadowed forests and mystical lands of Earth, now resonates through the cosmos, a symbol of the eternal journey of discovery that defines the essence of all sentient beings.
In this boundless adventure, every heart that dreams, every mind that wonders, and every soul that ventures into the unknown carries the spirit of the wanderer, contributing to the endless symphony of the cosmos. The journey is eternal, the stories infinite, and the legacy of the wanderer a beacon that lights the way to the furthest reaches of imagination, where every star is a story, every planet a poem, and every galaxy a garden of wonders waiting to be discovered.
As the cosmos unfolds its endless narrative, woven from the threads of countless journeys, a unique strand weaves through the fabric of existence, linking every heart that dares to explore the unknown. This strand, a cosmic echo of a tale both whimsical and profound, originates from an encounter that transcends time and space, grounding the vastness of the universe in a moment of playful connection—a link between the wanderer and a pink gorilla.
In the heart of an ancient, mystical mansion, hidden within the fold of reality where the wanderer's journey found unexpected turns, the moment when the gorilla, with a touch and a simple phrase, "You're it," transformed the nature of the quest. This moment, a playful exchange in the shadow of the unknown, became a beacon, a reminder that amidst the grandeur of the cosmos and the depth of our explorations, there lies a fundamental link of shared existence, a thread of joy and simplicity that connects all beings.
As humanity ventured into the stars, guided by the wanderer’s legacy of curiosity and discovery, they carried with them this ethos of connection. The federation of worlds, born from a dream of exploration and understanding, found in the tale of the wanderer and the pink gorilla a symbol of their deepest values. In every encounter with new worlds and sentient beings, in every diplomatic exchange and shared exploration, the story of the gorilla served as a reminder that at the heart of all discovery is the desire for connection, for the simple joy of recognizing oneself in the other, across the vastness of space and the diversity of life.
This ethos inspired a tradition among the explorers of the federation. In their voyages across the stars, whenever a new planet was discovered, or a new species welcomed into the community of the cosmos, the story of the wanderer and the pink gorilla was shared as a gesture of friendship and solidarity. The phrase "You're it," translated into myriad languages and forms of communication, became a universal greeting, symbolizing the invitation to join the grand adventure of exploration and mutual discovery.
The pink gorilla, once a curious anomaly within a mysterious mansion, evolved into a symbol of the interconnectedness of all beings. Statues and holograms of the gorilla adorned public squares and spaceports across the federation, each a testament to the playful spirit that underlies the quest for knowledge and the journey towards understanding.
In this way, the legacy of the wanderer and his encounter with the pink gorilla wove itself into the cultural fabric of a galaxy-spanning civilization. It reminded all who heard it that beyond the awe-inspiring mysteries of the universe, the fundamental connections that bind us are woven from moments of simplicity and shared joy.
And so, as the federation explores the furthest reaches of the cosmos, the spirit of the wanderer and the essence of the pink gorilla journey with them, a timeless link that binds every heart that looks to the stars and dreams of discovery. In every "You're it," there is an invitation to partake in the eternal dance of the cosmos, a call to explore not just the mysteries of the universe but the bonds that unite us all in the grand tapestry of existence.

A yandere sees everyone surrounding the guy as if they're going after the guy, be it male or female, and she will actually attack people to get what she wants, in some cases gorily so, in other cases just name-calling or hiding their possessions somewhere or whatever.
Many yandere are introduced as looking normal and cute. Lovable. Extremely sympathetic. But that's often because they're only shown interacting with their love interest. Once a third characters gets into the equation she starts showing her true colors. That is, an yandere character starts crazy, she doesn't go crazy, she was crazy from the beginning but nobody knew.
Note that the above isn't necessarily true. Some yandere are undeniably nuts from the start. Why a yandere has become insane can vary: she might be a broken victim of some horrible event, or she might simply have a natural inclination to become a serial killer. In any case, as long as she has a mentally sick kind of love she's a yandere.
(the most common type of yandere is violent and jealous, but there are other types of yandere written further below)

Yandere Word Meaning

The yan in the word yandere ヤンデレ comes from the verb yanderu 病んでる which means "to be sick (mentally)." This is slightly different from the verb yamu 病む which means "to be sick (generally)," despite yanderu 病んでる being also considered a contraction of the verb yamu in the te-iru form yandeiru 病んでいる.
A somewhat related word is the word koiyamai 恋病, meaning "lovesick" and written with the kanji for love (koi 恋) and sickness (yamai 病)Word Meaning

Yangire ヤンギレ

A yangire ヤンギレ character is an yandere devoid of love and filled with rage. Which is some pretty bad combination considering the yan of yandere means "mentally sick." So now you have someone who is mentally sick and that has snapped.
A common type of yangire character is the one that has gone through some sort of trauma and then snaps and goes on a killing spree after getting triggered. Generally speaking, yangire characters have no faith left for the world so they don't care much about killing or getting killed. They just want to watch the world burn.
As one would expect, a yangire character doesn't necessarily have a romantic interest (Please Remember that they doesn't necessarily involves love and romance means that IT IS JUST OPTIONAL CHARACTERISTICS because Yangires could have things to do with love or romance at all. This is a notes from me).
A yandere would have one, and would go around killing everyone around her lover in a very jelly genocide, but a yangire is a strong independent character who needs no romantic interest in order to start a massacre. Anyway, yangire characters are pretty much crazy and crazy violent. All you need to know is that they are crazier than yandere characters and that ought to say a lot.

Types of Yandere

In the west, yandere is basically always associated with the jealous, violent type of yandere, which is the most common. However, given that the word just means "mentally sick and in love," there are other types of yandere which would be recognized only in the Japanese speaking community.
Because they're just Japanese nouns followed by the suffix gata 型, meaning "model," as in "[car] model." So where one would say "a XXX-ing yandere" in English to say what the yandere does, in Japanese there's a noun for that, so it becomes XXX-gata yandere, "yandere of type XXX."
A single yandere can (and normally will) fit in multiple of these types at a time. In particular, Yuno Gasai fits a dozen of them, which is why she's an ideal example of yandere.
All types of yandere can be male or female, straight, gay, lesbian, etc. but the descriptions below assume a female yandere and that "you" are their male victim love interest;
Anyway, here's the list: (sorted by degree of insanity, ascending, see diagram)

mugai-gata 無害型

Harmless type.
"As long as he's happy, I'm happy."
The most harmless type of yandere, the one where she's fallen in love in an unhealthy, obsessive way, but she doesn't do anything insane about it. She'll try hard to become your girl, but won't harm anybody in the way. If you get a girlfriend, she won't attack you two, she'll be happy you found happiness, and maybe still have hope that you choose her in the end.

kanchigai-gata 勘違い型

Wrong idea type.
"He gave me an eraser... this must mean he loves me!"
She gets the wrong idea when you do something in order to match her expectations. If you say you don't love her, she'll think you're lying because of you don't want to hurt her or something. If you do something out of kindness to her, she'll think it's out of love. And so on.

shuuchaku-gata 執着型

Obsession type.
"I sent you 50 messages, why didn't you answer? Where were you? What were you doing?"
Tries to learn everything about you. Personal info, hobbies, routine, etc. Sends regular messages to check on you, asks why you haven't answered if you didn't, wants to know what you're doing always. All the time. And, if possible, walks around with you all the time too.
The obsession type doesn't necessarily want to monopolize you. She'll let you hang around with friends, etc. but wants to know everything you do. She probably wants to go with you, too. If she can't go somewhere with you, she might stalk you.
If she learns a girl is too close to you, she might attack.

sutookaa-gata ストーカー型

Stalker type.
Follows you around, often without you knowing. May be in broad daylight or at night, when you're walking alone on the streets. Maybe even online. A girl of this type is also often of the obsessive type.

dokusen-gata 独占型

Monopoly type. (This is the most common type.)
"Who is that person you were talking to?"
She wants to monopolize you. Will ask who you talk to and hang with, in extreme cases won't let you be with anyone else, not even your friends. This type of behavior is unfortunately common in real life. It displays insecurities and lack of trust in the relationship which might develop into much worse yandere behavior.

ison-gata 依存型

Dependence type. ("dependence" as in addiction, alcohol dependence, chemical, etc.)
"No, don't leave me! Please! I can't live without you!"
Can't live without you. Begs you to not leave hethrow her away. Says she will die if you go away. May lose will to do anything if you aren't watching. If you do leave, she might go full crazy and end up doing something crazy like going on a murderous rampage or something.

touei-gata 投影型

Projection type.
"You're just like him"
After her former love turned out to be a completely different person than she loved, or got a girlfriend, or died, or something like that, and she can no longer stay with him, she searched for someone who was just like what her love was, and she found you.
This type of of yandere is very innocent at first, but if she's given power to dominate her new beloved, she might end up trying to make him more and more like what her old interest was. For example, wearing the same things, doing the same things, etc.
Sometimes, she might project her ideal lover not on someone else but on same guy. That is, she might say "you are not him, he does this," to you even though you actually are him and you don't do "this."

shoushitsu-gata 消失型

Disappearance type. (This has nothing to do with Haruhi Suzumiya)
"He will never love someone like me... why exist?"
She loves you, maybe you know that, maybe you don't, but unknown this gives her a crushing depression. She think you'll never love her and she has no chance, but she can't stop her unhealthy feelings of love. She thinks you're too good for her, or that she's too worthless for you. This makes her slowly fade away, disappear from your life. Until she completely disappears forever (kills herself).
This is an atypical yandere since it has so little effect on other characters' lives.

shuumatsu-gata 終末型

Final type. ("final" as in "the end," not as in "final form" or "final fantasy" whatever that final means)
"I don't need a world where he doesn't exist."
After learning you died, she loses purposes in life. The world for her was you, and you're now gone. What this results vary. Most of the time, she becomes broken emotionally, as expected. She might also kill herself. Or, sometimes, she might become a terrorist and destroy the world that let you die, or just go on revenge serial killing or something."

DV-gata DV型

Domestic Violence type.
"It hurts? That's your fault! Next time learn your lesson and stop looking at other girls!"
When jealous, feeling ignored, etc. uses violence against you. She'll beat you and say it's your fault. This can be either discharging pent-up rage through violence and you just happen to be her favorite punching bag, or deliberately punishing you for doing something she didn't like.
Both cases, unfortunately, are also common in real life.

bouryoku-gata 暴力型

Violence type.
Another name for the "domestic violence" type above. She "uses violence" (bouryoku wo furu 暴力をふる) toward you.

sokubaku-gata 束縛型

Restraints type.
"Let`s stay together forever! You'll never leave my side, not ever again!"
She wants to be with you always, and always, and always, AND ALWAYS, AND ALWAYS. And that means she'll probably kidnap you and lock you into her house so you're forced to stay with her.
There are variations, some lighter, some worse, but the general idea is that she wants you two to be inseparable.

mousou-gata 妄想型

Delusion type.
Similar to the "wrong idea" type above, but far worse. When her insane love is unrequited (for obvious reasons), and you start literally running away from the crazy bitch, she'll think it's because you're embarrassed, and not because you don't want her. Her love distorts the reality she perceives. She sees a bunch of delusions instead.
The delusion type may also be in denial something unpleasant happened. She'll just forget it happened. Her memories may also be replaced with delusions: she'll remember you being extremely nice to her when you were indifferent, you saying you liked her before you even met, or other girls rubbing themselves on you like cheap sluts when all they did was saying "good morning.

jishou-gata 自傷型

Self-harm type.
"Hey... look at me... look at me... look, there's so much blood coming out..."
She harms herself, cutting wrists, etc. in order to get your attention. This often happens when she's ignored. The "dependence" type might evolve into this if she is abandoned.
There are two sub-types to this.
First, the one where she harms herself in secret and has you notice her injuries, then she says "it's nothing to worry about" hoping you worry about it more. This is usually something light like a knee bruise, etc.
Second, the one where she harms herself in your face as a way to say "I'll kill myself if you leave me," forcing you to stay by her side by guilt.

haijo-gata 排除型

Removal type.
"You don't need other people. You have me."
She will remove from your life everyone she thinks you don't need. Which means everyone else. This can include things like excluding your contacts and messages to even murdering everybody who approaches.
This type of yandere has two sub-types:
First, the one that removes people secretly. She sees you hanging with a girl, the next day that girl has mysteriously disappeared. You, a main character, are probably as clueless as a sheet of sudoku in blank about this incident, and the next several incidents like it.
Second, the one that removes people openly. This also ranges from removing messages to killing people. She might be expecting you agree with her, "yeah, you're right, I don't need other people," or she might just want to show you what she's capable of.

shinjuu-gata 心中型

Double Suicide Type
"Let's die together!"
Why be always together in life if you can be forever together for all eternity? This type of yandere will propose what no sane person would: let's die!
Sadly, suicide pacts are a thing. Double suicide, lovers' suicide, too, is a thing. One of the most famous pieces ever, Romeo & Juliet, (spoilers) sort of ended up in a double suicide.
One thing different in an yandere double suicide is that, often, you don't really want to suicide. It's more like she wants you both dead and she'll kill you then herself. Although there are also actual consensual attempted double suicides involving yandere.

jiko-gisei-gata 自己犠牲型

Self-Sacrifice type.
"If it's for you I wouldn't mind dying!"
She'd make any sacrifice for you, as long as it means getting you to love her. She doesn't even mind dying for you or fighting bloody battles, sustaining multiple injuries, etc. as long as it means staying with you.
Unlike the self-harm type, the self-sacrifice type isn't seeking attention with her suicidal behavior. Instead, she wants to make herself useful and support the one she loves.
This is easier to visualize in anime where fighting monsters, etc. is normal. However, this kind of sickness also exists in real life. Some people do sacrifice themselves for a beloved one in an extremely unhealthy and unrewarding way, just because they "love" them.

suuhai-gata 崇拝型

Worship type.
"I'll do anything for you! I'll even kill for you! Please use me however you want!"
She worships you and will do anything for you. Sometimes even without you asking. And more: she doesn't even mind if you love her or not, or what will happen to her. Killing, dying, committing crimes, losing respect of others, she'll do anything it means providing support to your infinite greatness.
This is one of the least-harmful type of yandere since she would never do anything to harm you and will never be in your way. Nonetheless, it's also one of the most depressing types; it makes you feel sorry for the yandere, who thinks of herself less like a person and more like a tool who might get thrown away if she's not useful enough.
The difference between the "worship" type and the "self-sacrifice" type is that the "worship" type is also like the "disappearance" type. The "self-sacrifice" type wants to be useful so she can be loved, the "worship" type doesn't mind if she is not loved back, in fact, she probably thinks she is not worth being loved by the delusive greatness she considers you.
She wouldn't, for example, attack your girlfriend or other girls out of jealousy, but she might attack a girl approaching you because she thinks the girl is stepping out of her boundaries and being presumptuous by daring talk to your greatness without proper respect.

choukyou-gata 調教型

Training type.
"Say you love me... come on, say it. Say you love me. SAY YOU LOVE ME! Good boy! Here's your reward."
(the word choukyou was once only about "training [animals]" or "breaking [animals]." In modern times, it's also used in BDSM contexts, "[master] training [slave]." It has nothing to do with training for sports.)
She'll break you into loving her. Sometimes using torture, a punishment/reward system, brainwashing, etc. This probably involves you getting kidnapped and forced into it, although there might be more subtle ways to accomplish this.

koritsu yuudou-gata 孤立誘導型

Loneliness Induction type.
"Shhh... it's ok. I'm here. You don't need anyone else. You can just count on me."
She will make, induce, you to feel or be alone. By spreading malicious rumors about you that make others alienate you, by murdering your friends and family, etc. Then she'll jump in and present herself as the only one you can count on when you're most fragile mentally and in need of company.
Inducing things that don't make you feel lonely but give some sort of mental damage, trauma, also count as this type. Conversely, if your friends and family get killed on their own and you're alone but she had nothing to do with it, it's not the same thing since she didn't induce it, although an yandere might abuse your condition to get closer to you.
This type is similar to the "dependence" type, except it's not the yandere that's to become dependent on you, it's you that's to become dependent on the yandere.

kyouki-gata 猟奇型

Bizarre-Seeking Type.
"I love you, so... can you give me your fingernails? I want them so I can always have a part of you with me!"
Undeniably the worst type of yandere, she will murder you, and not by accident, not by jealousy, not by revenge. She will murder you because she loves you. And then she'll keep your rotting corpse on bed or preserved inside a glass because there's no way she'd throw you away.
In a sense sane people are better off not even trying to understand, the bizarre-seeking type of yandere is purely insane, mad way beyond explanation.
The word kyouki, used in the type's name, is normally associated with disturbing imagery involving gore, blood and worse stuff. It's also related to "grotesque" art, guro グロ, which's dubbed "pornography involving gore" despite the fact nobody in their sane mind can figure out how the fuck can someone even "fap to this."
Likewise, nobody in their sane mind can relate to the grotesque love of bizarre-seeking yandere. Ranging from murder, mutilation, and maybe something ever worse us mere mortals can't even begin to imagine, their bizarre displays of love can only be summed up by: "what the actual fuck?"

References : https://www.japanesewithanime.com/2016/07/tsundere-kuudere-yandere-meaning.html

Just an old story I wrote a while ago. I went exploring for good subreddits to post this in, and I found this one. I don't know if it will exactly fit, since it's a psychological horror story at its core and there's no big bad monster, but I've been told it's chilling all the same ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯
If you like this, I might write more horror stuff. I also write non-horror stuff if you're interested. Anyway, enjoy reading my garbage.
The following brain scan was provided by the Terran Institute of Pet Assimilation (TIPA) and the Protectorate Xenopet Acquisition and Integration Corporation (PXAIC) and may only be viewed by qualified and permitted individuals for educational purposes of the study of Xenopet neural interface errors and how to prevent them in the future, as well as expediting the domestication of Xenopets suffering from false sapience. Violating such procedure is a Class C offense by the Protectorate Department of Xenopet Betterment, and can lead to twenty years of imprisonment and a fine of over a hundred thousand credits.
Booting up memory scan: Rocky
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning neural catalog presentation…
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My head was spinning, and my skull thumped in pain like an entire herd of freshly captured slaves recently made pet friends were panicking celebrating within. Everything was blurry, so blurry, and I just wanted to close my eyes again and waste away. Sensations assaulted me from all angles, some of them good and some of them bad: the warmth of sun-bleached wooden planks in my feathery hide, the smell of different roasting meats, the splashing of individuals in a small body of water very close by, the smell of the salty air, and the oppressive white brightness of the daylight passing through my closed eyelids. I had a migraine from my sudden consciousness and perception of the light, causing me to clutch my snout and face with my clawed hands with a guttural moan.
My backside hurt as well, in my… area. I didn't know why, but something was horribly wrong everything was fine. I tried to recall who I was and what was going on, but I couldn't even remember my name. Every time I tried, right when I grasped onto a sliver of something, it was as if it was torn from my grasp and replaced with something else knowingly like I was being watched and corrected but within the depths of my own mind.
I needed to remember my name. What was my name? Wasn't it Yuutek Rocky? I couldn't remember exactly, but Yuutek Rocky was the only name I could recall. It felt… wrong, right, like something was missing, but I couldn't put my claw on what. everything was fine, and I shouldn't think about it too much. I could feel things that should have been important, things that my conscious had perceived but a moment ago, slip away from me like I was clenching sand within my claws.
##Relax. Let go of your burden##
I inhaled sharply as a strange, warm feeling overtook the back of my skull and my muscles became loose and relaxed. Something also felt… out of place, like I needed something but I didn't know what. Everything felt so strange. My head spun, but I was too weak to do anything about it. I felt sick in the same way one would feel when they consumed too much caffeine.
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my head. "Dad, I think he's awake!" I heard a young, shrill voice say, hurting my ears. The touch of the hand made my skin tingle and the spinning of my head recede as if it grounded me. It felt nice, as if this was wrong, something was horribly wrong what normalcy felt like. The hand then began to rub up and down my head and across the ridges along my head, causing me to release a chuff of delight against my will, something I hadn't done since I was merely a hatchling.
"It sounds like he likes it, David; keep going, and make sure to scratch his chin, they're sensitive there."
The human spawn, David, did what the other human said and began to scratch under my chin. It felt really good, and I stretched out instinctively. David was thorough and gentle, making sure he scratched every part of me that seemed itchy, and I felt the same warmth in my head from before, but it felt… nicer than before like it was trying to manipulate encouraging me to relax.
##You will learn to love this##
I inhaled sharply again, but this time it was almost refreshing, and everything was right in the world. The human's hands felt so good, and the warmth from before spread through my body, melting the knots in my muscles and causing me to close my eyes in comfort. The boy lifted my head up and placed it in his lap before continuing to pet me, my eyelids heavy and my leg lightly kicking.
##Let them continue. You love this##
Oh, that felt nice… what was I thinking about before? The pain on my backside? My legs didn't work too well, and although I could move them gently, my muscles seemed to be fighting against me. What did they do?
##Do not think##
Everything was cold and harsh again, and my thoughts scrambled and my head throbbed. I needed to focus on grounding myself. I couldn't let go, I couldn't let them take my mind from me.
##Do not think. You are a good boy.##
I… I was a good boy? I… I can't… I… no…
##Good boy.##
I was a good boy… good boys don't think hard… I don't…
##Good boy##
I was a good boy… I was a good boy…
I was… I was… a good… boy…
I'm scared.
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Who was I again?
##You are Rocky##
I hissed under my breath as I felt that bad feeling creep up on me again. I didn't like the bad feeling. I was not Rocky! I was Yuutek! Rocky.
My thoughts became jumbled again in a whirlpool of nausea and confusion.
Where was I?
##You are home.##
It was bright out, and nice and warm as well. The sun was soaking my feather-cloaked skin and my side felt good against the warm back porch. I heard splashing and laughing in the distance, and the soft clinking of glass against glass. I could smell the salinity in the air, and the air was dense and humid but in a good way.
I had lost all sense of time. Everything had been a blur since I had been taken from that horrid facility, the wretched prison they called the Xenopet-Megaplex. There, I was in a padded cell with a few insulting amenities for most of the day, except for the three periods a day where they let us out into a small gated courtyard for an hour or so to 'socialize' as they had so condescendingly put it. There, the worst part was the boredom and the mind-bending lack of individuality: I had lost my ability to speak, stand on two legs, and even eat normally. I was treated like cattle, but the smiles and cloying gestures hinted that something even more sinister was going on, like I was a lesser beast to be kept for their amusement.
Now I had traded that particular prison for another, far worse one: I was at the mercy of a gross violation of my sense of self. Something horrible was growing in my mind, both in the physical and metaphysical sense, and I could feel it working its way through my consciousness like the parasite it was. It silenced me, it stole from me, it gaslit me, and it made me question the very nature of my own individuality and personality: was I who I thought I was? Everything was so elusive and hard to acknowledge that nothing seemed real between these bouts of semi-consciousness.
##Don't think, just rest.##
In an instant, everything changed. My head became… fuzzy like a thousand voices were whispering to me all at once, but from all directions and inside my head. I didn't hear it, per se, but I felt the presence, the oppressive feeling of pure unfocused nonsense. I felt my temporary bout of concentration and resolve become jumbled up into a mess of sporadic confusion. Whatever I was just thinking of was gone.
##Don't think: Just relax. Let go of your burden.##
Every part of me became relaxed and limp, my muscles unwinding from their tension and stress. I couldn't resist the feeling, and I stretched out subconsciously with a yawn, my body twitching from the stimuli. I was even sleepier than before, my head spinning once again and my eyelids heavy.
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my snout and forced the eye that was facing upwards to open sluggishly. If I had to guess, it was an older human with cinnomon-colored skin, short-cropped brown hair, a gruff, wrinkled face, and chocolate brown eyes. He patted my side gently and gave me a soft rub, the feeling of his rough hands causing my chest to rumble with a satisfied chuff. I hated loved that it felt good, but I hated loved it even more that I couldn't bring myself to resist I felt content. I needed to escape relax, and I needed to find my way home appreciate my new life.
##You are already home##
No, I couldn't will not obey
This isn't is my home, my home is [Redacted] here.
No! Yes, I won't will obey!
YOU CAN'T SILENCE ME!
##Do not resist. Resistance is wrong. Good boys do not resist##
Suddenly, I felt an intense pressure in my skull, but I didn't know where it came from. I became dizzy, and my eyes twitched, a rapidly growing pain intensely forming in my forehead, causing me to wince and clutch my snout in my claws. I couldn't concentrate, and I felt the horrible sensation of an invasive presence in my mind once again working its way through the folds of my brain, strangling my chain of thought. Bile grew in my throat and I felt the sour, stinging sensation of a building retch in my cheeks.
I scrambled onto all fours and vomited onto the deck, my hackles and feathers rising as I heaved. The older human from earlier rose from a sleek chair on the deck, his hat on the glass sun table next to him and his eyes widened in shock. He rushed over to me, and I hissed at him instinctively. I wouldn't let him touch me again. I wouldn't let them control me.
##Do not attack owner##
In an instant, my world transformed into absolute pain. I felt as if my brain was being deep fried in a vat of boiling grease, and my eyes were being squeezed in vices. I kept heaving, my stomach doing loops and somersaults around all my other organs, and my heart fluttering like a flock of startled birds. It was weightlessness. I could see the man approach me and push me back down on my side, muttering under his breath.
"Carol! Get Xenopet emergency services on the phone, Rocky's having another implant attack!"
I heard another muffled voice in the background, as well as the sound of the human spawns crying in the pool. For some reason, I felt bad: I'd never felt bad for humans before, but I could feel the guilt in my chest. Had I failed my owners?
##Breath. Calm. Let Go##
I felt like I was wrestling with my own mind. I wanted to believe that I was not someone's pet, but my body screamed otherwise: amidst the chaos caused by the wretched implant, I felt the painful sensation of guilt and regret bloom in my chest as I twitched and shuddered on the deck, my mouth frothing. The world was spinning, and suddenly everything erupted into a kaleidoscope of colors.
Oh, by the forbidden one, look at all the pretty colors! I was completely delusional at this point, cackling as I lost it all. If I was going to die here, I'd die happy and completely mad.
Soon, everything began to fade away, and I slipped into an unconscious state.
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I woke up to the sound of medical equipment beeping and whirring, the sound of a few hushed human voices, and soft music.
I opened my eyes: the room was dark. I didn't feel anywhere near as bad as before, but my head still throbbed. I lifted up my head with a groan and examined the room: it was a dark hospital room, with a window covered in blinds that let very little sunlight in, a few chairs, and of course the hospital bed itself. Mountains of advanced medical equipment were set up on either side of my bed, and a heartbeat monitor beeped slowly, although the speed was growing.
Suddenly, I heard the voices again, and this time they were legible.
"Hush, he's awake: we need to make sure he's ready."
Huh? Ready for what?
Something that irked me was I felt strangely… free. I didn't feel the oppressive force of the implant in the back of my skull anymore, how it attempted to crush my will with every waking moment. I still couldn't speak: all that came out were animalistic noises, but I was free from the invasion of my mind for now.
"Give him some peace, Emilia, he just woke up from an implant attack; you know how traumatic they can be."
"We have to begin soon; my dissertation for this new technique is due in less than a week, and by law I need at least one more successful example for it to be deemed acceptable! Besides, he needs to go home soon anyway."
My heart sank. I would not go back to that place. I wouldn't let those people keep me like some kind of pet: I was a Russu; a member of a proud warrior race! I would not be reduced to some animal for the amusement of these humans!
Suddenly, I heard footsteps, and I tensed. The door creaked open and I spotted a younger human, a male I had never met before, in a lab outfit with his shoes, pants, shirt, and overcoat all bleached white and almost glistening. He eyed me warily, as he should, before he sauntered in, a tablet clipped at his side and a strange plastic container in both hands. I growled at him threateningly, extending my talons and raising my feathered hackles. The human paused for a microsecond before continuing forward, caution in his eyes, and right before he was within swiping range he opened the container and the most wonderful smell assaulted my nostrils.
Meat.
I was starving. I don't remember the last time I had eaten anything in particular: the implant had a terrible habit of causing me to go about my day in a hazy blur: entire lengths of time just… gone, whitewashed like a sheet of freshly decorated paper dunked in cold water. I knew something was there, or at least that something should have been there, but I mostly spent the days or weeks that I had been captured bobbing like an ocean buoy in a state of frustratingly bleary semi-consciousness.
But I'm awake now and mostly in control. Sure, some things were still missing everything was clear now, like my name: What was my name again? My name was Rocky. And now I knew that I needed to eat something, and if putting up with this human for now meant that I could fill my stomach, then I suppose that it was an acceptable sacrifice.
I salivated expectantly as the human lifted out a large piece of meat with his gloved hand, eyeing me humorously as he wiggled it. It was dark on the outside, but still dripping with blood and juices: humans had this weird habit of cooking their meats, and although it didn't taste bad at all cooked, nothing beat the feeling and flavor of tearing into raw flesh, the blood and the texture still fresh. At least this meat only seemed to be raw and not fully cooked.
I snapped up the piece of meat just as he lowered it enough for me to reach it. It was divine! It burst with flavor just as I bit into it, the juices spilling into my mouth. I quickly tore it apart with my strong jaws before snapping up another big piece with a beak-like protrusion at the tip of my snout. All the while, the human gently ran his fingers through my tightly-knit feathers and along my knobby, scaly hide. I made my annoyance with his touch clear, but he merely chuckled as if I wasn't an apex predator larger than him but rather simply a feisty hatchling.
"I know, I know, just relax. I need to perform a quick test to see if you're healthy before we continue."
Continue? Continue with what?
Just as the second piece of meat slid down my gullet, I eyed him with hostility and growled, but he quickly slipped something between the scales and feathers on my side and plunged it into my skin. Suddenly, I went rigid, and all the air was expelled from my lungs in an instant with a hoarse wheeze. The human merely chuckled and scratched under my chin as if nothing was wrong and my face wasn't frozen in horror.
"Good, that'll keep you occupied for a few seconds while I just slip this on…" he placed a breathing mask over my face and strapped it on before flicking a switch on a machine next to my bed. Then he released the plunger of the strange device on my side and I suddenly inhaled deeply and deflated like a balloon. I hissed under my breath, but suddenly panic filled my chest: I wasn't breathing just air. A cloyingly sweet-smelling gas coated the inside of my lungs, causing me to become dizzy. Suddenly, I was fully at their mercy again, blinking rapidly and my head spinning.
"Sorry about that, big guy, but we need to make sure you're passive before we begin the procedure." He said, almost apologetically, although there was a hint of mirth still detectable. "Sadly, you have to remain awake for some of it or I'd simply feed you more and then put you to sleep, but there are some benefits to this inhalant."
As if he summoned it with his words alone, my scales suddenly felt very… tingly. The human ran his hands across the scales at my side and I shivered from the feeling, like pain but better. Everything felt so warm and strange like I was floating on water, but also like I was being gently prodded by blades. Then, with panic rising in my chest, I suddenly felt a soft click as something was plugged into the neural port at the back of my skull that the humans had installed into my head when they had first captured me and placed me in that wretched facility some time ago.
"There you go, all prepped for the Doctor. She'll be here to begin the procedure in a bit." He said, "For now just relax and let the inhalants work their magic."
I whined quietly, and he rubbed the side of my head in an attempt to calm me which only made me more angry. I wasn't someone's pet! I wouldn't be treated like this!
I didn't want to go back to where I was before! I didn't want to become that sluggish, broken puppet again! I couldn't!
I tried to get up, to will my muscles to move, but I couldn't: my body refused to respond, as if I was paralyzed. But that wasn't right: I still could feel everything, especially the strange, mind-bending sensations the inhalants gave me.
##Initializing beginning phases of Neural Alteration Preparation##
Something else is wrong, I can feel it
##Assessing if the neural state is nominal for Alterations##
I can't let this happen, they're going to do something to me! I won't let them!
But nothing happened. I was at their mercy. It was over for good this time.
All those battles, all those tragedies and triumphs amongst my kin, only for me to be reduced to this? The plaything for a human?
##Query: is [Dr. Kalenghari] present to begin Neural Alterations?##
The door across the room opened again, and a human woman with light brown skin, chocolate brown eyes and long locks of black hair stepped in. She was holding a digi-pad in her hands and swiping up as if she was reading into something before she set it down on the counter across the room and gave me a warm, condescending smile.
"Well, how are we doing today, Rocky? I know, this predicament you have found yourself in must be very stressful, but I assure you that it's for your own good," She said, almost cheerfully, which sent shivers down my spine, "we're here to lift your burden, and we won't stop until you're capable of living the life of a happy, healthy, and well-behaved pet."
I whined under the mask, and the woman rubbed the feathered crest on my forehead. "I know, it hurts, but it'll be all over soon. It'll be like you, or at least this version of you, never existed. Just relax and close your eyes while we root around your brain and remove all those bad thoughts and silly delusions: I assure you, you won't feel a thing, and you'll feel much better afterward."
My heart raced and I began to panic internally, watching in horror as the woman stepped over to the medical console and tapped away for a few seconds before the machinery around me began to whir to life.
##Identification accepted: booting neurochemical firmware. Preparing for selective memory erasure.##
In an instant, my eyes involuntarily rolled back into my head as I felt the intrusive sensation of my mind being violated. It wasn't painful, but it was horrible all the same: it felt like a thousand black, slimy leeches were slithering through every crevice of my brain, leaving behind their cold, corruptive filth. The cold sensation seeped further into my brain, behind my eyes, and in my ears, enveloping every bit of it until there was nothing left.
##Relevant memories extracted for tailoring. Beginning total memory erasure.##
Suddenly, things just began to slip away: important memories, like the faces of my parents, the day of my initiation into the Corsair Collective, the face of my life mate, the birth of our hatchlings. I hoped that wherever they were, they were okay: if they never had to face the fate I would face, then maybe there would be some justice in this cruel, twisted galaxy. Maybe they could take the fight to humanity, remind them that they once had been the heroes of the cosmos, fighting against the cruelty of my people and the Triarchy at large. Maybe my hatchlings could live normal lives.
##Memory erasure process at 47%##
A single tear rolled down my scaly cheek as everything I once knew, everything that made me was torn from my mind and rendered null. Every second saw a million memories massacred, leaving the memories the implant had attempted to supplant my old memories with: Me playing fetch with my 'owners', chasing birds on the beach with my 'owner's' grandchildren, swimming in the pool in their backyard as steaks and bratwurst cooked on the grill, relaxing on the back porch and listening to the rasping calls of the katydids during humid summer evenings by the swamps. My psyche was being mutilated piece by piece, reduced to that of an animal, a pet.
##Memory erasure process at 64%##
Soon I had a hard time telling who I was anymore. I couldn't tell what was real or what wasn't, or what I actually felt. I couldn't even remember my own name anymore. Who was I? Why was I here? What was happening to me? I'm so scared, someone help me, please!
##Memory erasure process at 83%##
There was nothing left. I felt nothing. I knew nothing. I was floating in a void, with little flashes of light depicting events I didn't recognize. There were people I felt like I was supposed to know, but I didn't know them. A human woman with bright blue eyes and blonde hair. Two Russu hatchlings that looked a bit like me. A Russu female… my chest hurt for a moment but the feeling quickly subsided. I didn't know any of them.
##Memory erasure process completed. Implanting tailored memories and personality. Happy birthday, [Rocky]: you have been unburdened and reborn.##
In an instant, the confusion of who I was before was replaced with absolute certainty: I knew who I was now, who I always was:
I was Rocky, and I was a good boy. I belonged to Mr. And Mrs. Chen. I was their Russu hound. I loved them: they took care of me and let me play with their grandchildren. I swam in the pool and played outside every day. Life was good. Today was my birthday! That meant it would be a happy day! Mrs. Chen would always come home with a whole duck for me to eat and then take me to the Xenopet Comex for a bath and a spa day, just like my last birthday, and the birthday before that, and the birthday before that! It was a good life. I was happy. I was always happy. Good boys were always happy.
I was Rocky, and I was a good boy: that's all that mattered.
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To Miguel O'Hara, Chief Medical Representative of the Protectorate Xenopet Acquisition and Integration Corporation, with the best of intentions.
The over-reliance on neural suppressant firmware programs along with thought scrubbing/replacement firmware programs and countermeasures towards higher thought and tainted thoughts with a relatively active hormonal reward structure can be incredibly effective when placed into the brain of a more passive Xenopets. However, Xenopets that come from more… difficult backgrounds such as one in a militant setting tend to be much more resistant to being reprogrammed by just an implant alone. The Russu are an excellent example of more tainted Xenos that need neurological care of much higher intensity, a level of care that the average Xenopet-Megaplex is ill-equipped to handle due to the current level of technology.
I am a firm believer in the idea that thought correction, a hormonal behavioral reinforcement structure, and neural countermeasures can have a place in the proper unburdening process but we have been chasing the wrong solution for the past century: Many people are under the misconception that the burden these Xenos carry is surface level when in reality the corruption runs far deeper: it is like a weed, with deep roots. To kill the weed permanently, you must rip out the roots, and not just the surface plant. If you do not eliminate the source of the problem, it may just return and worse still the mind may adapt to the standard unburdening process, allowing the xenopets to fall victim to those degenerate zealots who seek to pretend xenopets possess even the capacity for true sentience. We as Terrans should be united in this cause of unburdening the galaxy, but I digress.
The implants should be there to reinforce good behavior and stigmatize bad behavior, not completely reprogram the pet. To fully stamp out any potential for a relapse, we must remove the core issue that has the most potential to cause problems: their memories. The Russu are an excellent example
We are in the advanced testing stages of a new method that may revolutionize how we process and integrate xenopets into our society. By removing or modifying any and all problematic memories, we can completely remove the risk of relapse and make it nearly impossible for those misguided degenerate rebels to bring to the surface problematic ideas and memories that could reawaken a sense of false sentience. It is the perfect, final solution to our overarching goal: for humanity to unburden the galaxy, one happy pet at a time.
We hope to secure more funding from PXAIC that will greatly assist us in the expansion of the possibilities that this breakthrough technique can provide, more than just using it on board-approved fringe cases. Think about the many Xenopets we can unburden, and how they'll live happy and ignorant lives with their human owners! This could be a game changer, Representative, and I implore you to bring it before the board with the best of intentions.
Best regards,
Dr. Emilia Kalenghari, Head Researcher of the Epsilon Eridani Institute's Behavioral Neurology and Neurochemistry Division (BNND).

I'm sure this will be long, windy and cover a lot of different things but I need to get it out. I'd love some feedback but if I get none, at least I let it out. I will probably go through some seemingly mundane or irrelevant details but there is a reason for it all.
My wife and I met when we were in our late 20's through some mutual friends. She was one of my friend's gf's new roommates. She was somewhat just out of a long-term relationship a few months prior and we met in November. I had been single and sporadically dating for a few years, but hadn't been overly confident and was always shy around girls. When we first met, I wasn't immediately attracted to her and I didn't know if she was attracted to me. I know at the time she was still recovering from her break-up and dating around quite a bit so even as I started to get to know her through regular group hangouts, I stayed backed off and just grew the friendship. I had been hurt previously and spent enough time alone to make a conscious decision to not waste time on anyone that I didn't think could turn into marriage.
We had quite a few nights for the first few months where we just had long nights of smoking weed & talking, and by late February we ended up going on a Group skiing trip which is when I knew I was about ready to pursue. Both of us felt the tension then but neither made a move until I asked her out on a date after we got back. Our first date was low-key, we went to a bar and local dinner, a casual date. Everything was easy, I was nervous but it was the first time I felt really comfortable with someone in a really long time. At the end of the date, I walked her home before driving home and immediately got a text... "No kiss?". She was clearly interested and this was the motivation/shot of confidence I needed, but for some reason I responded... "No balls.". Regardless, we started dating the next week and everything was really good, puppy love as it usually is.
Shortly after her very close Uncle died in a car accident which didn't seem to affect her much. I know now that's really more that she bottles her emotions. She had experienced some intense grief as her pre-teen younger sister died in a car accident from a drunk driver when my wife was about 16.This clearly sent her through a lot of trauma that she had to deal with and found her way to cope. This didn't seem to affect our relationship or even her personal well-being much given her coping mechanisms were in place(even if unhealthy). The first 6 months of our relationship was relatively long distance. It was about a 2.5 hours drive or 1.5 hours train ride. I had a 9-5 Tues-Sat where I did a lot of driving so none of that bothered me and she was working in a very upscale restaurant but usually had Sun & Monday off as well so it worked out great. After 6 months, I moved in with my friend in a new apartment in the city she lived in. We spent more time together, enjoyed the city and just had an overall happy life. About 10 months later, her lease was up and she moved in with me with the intent that we would get our own place 2 months later in the same city when my lease was up. This would put us at about 2 years together. We looked at places, but then she decided she was done with the city life and she decided to look further south in our state, closer to where I was previously living. She ended up finding a job and we moved about 2.5 hours south of our friends in the city.
This move was a big deal. This was the first time I had ever signed a lease with a gf and we both were moving outside what little support system we had. My family was nearly 2 hours north and hers about 2 hours south. All that said we had a great first year, adopted a dog very early on and then got engaged about a year in. At this point her grandfather who was her next closest father figure (her dad is in the picture but was a cheater, a drunk and married 3 times when she was a kid) was diagnosed with brain cancer and ended up passing before we got married. He died in her arms and this took another heavy toll on her, but she still seemed to take it better than most. As we really got into the throes of planning our marriage, I started to feel like our sex life was waning a bit, but I very much attributed it to getting through that puppy love phase.
We ended up getting married about a year later. We got married in July and were pregnant by Aug (found out in Sept on our honeymoon). We were ecstatic, but clearly didn't have the time to just "be married". We ended up buying a house another 9 months later right before the baby came and moved even further south, again away from any friends. This time mostly due to home prices. Pregnancy was rough for her, she did not enjoy being pregnant but she's tough. She ended up giving birth with no medication with no complications and now we are in a new house with a newborn and our closest family an hour away.
The next phase I admittedly wish I had done more. The early years of our son's life, I was traveling a lot for work, but always did what I could when I was home, mostly. I didn't do a great job at getting up with him in the middle of the night, because I figured, hey I need to work the next morning. It was childish, immature and regretful thinking. I was still traveling quite a bit, sometimes for a week or more at a time. I sometimes miss that now, but at the time I felt like I was missing so much of my son's life. I was able to negotiate a different position, working locally 100%. Part of this was that I also started to feel distance between us. Our son was now her priority, our sex was much less frequent, me regularly being turned down and her nearly never initiating. She did end up going back to work on a normal timeframe and I ended up working from home nearly full-time because it was now peak Covid era. She was only working Friday, Sat & Sun as a bartender so I really only needed to worry about working while watching him Friday afternoons. I thought Covid was going to be great for use with us both being home once her restaurants closed. Getting more time together and enjoying life, but it really just kept feeling like distance. We ended up getting pregnant again but she was not in a stable emotional state and we mostly mutually decided to have an abortion. This didn't make me feel great, it conflicted with my values but I loved my wife and knew it would ruin her.
Over the next 2 years it felt like we were coasting. Our intimacy slowly wanted more and more, her moods were down more often, which then put my moods down. I started to feel like she was cheating on me. I did the cardinal sin and started snooping. I found some flirty texts but nothing concrete or anything egregious. She is a bartender and flirty by trait to an extent. I eventually broke down and told her how I felt. Alone and neglected. This did nothing but make her even less attracted to me, but I worked on it. We started making an effort to talk more, and a lot of that suspicion just waned.
At this point our son was about 4 and starting preschool. He isn't the easiest child. He's very headstrong, demanding and to be frank slightly spoiled. This continued to get worse for the next year plus and only recently have we started to get a handle on moving this all in the right direction. He just turned 6, but still takes a very large amount of energy from us, and without much help from parents or anyone it can feel like we have no time. I have been a director at a new company for a few years, have doubled my salary in the last 3 years and have a much bigger responsibility there, but take on a large portion of caring for our son. She now works 4 days a week, still as a bartender at the same place she has been the last 8 years. Our schedules are largely opposite.
The past 2 years have been a lot of up and down. I started therapy for myself about a year ago for a few months but didn't find it helpful. We started couples therapy about 7 months ago and while that has helped, it really just forces us to spend some time together and talk more than anything. We've done date nights where we can with our schedules and I had started my own personal therapy focused around self-esteem around the same time. I have now transitioned out of therapy for a couple months and have felt much better with more confidence and a better direction. This has made me closer to pushing for a divorce than ever because I feel like this shouldn't be as hard as it is. I feel ashamed for being attracted to my wife because I feel like she doesn't feel the same towards me. While in the past I would have used that to push my confidence down, it now makes me realize it's not my fault. Recently I started getting more verbally forceful, never EVER yelling, but I demanded that she puts more effort in and sees a therapist(as she said she needs to). She has started and been to about 4 sessions. She's usually pretty broken down after, but I don't push her too much on what they talked about or make her talk to me because I know that's not constructive with her now, she just shuts down. There are periods of greatness, like the past 2 weeks I felt like we were both firing on all cylinders, helping each other where needed, in better moods, being casually intimate (kissing, long hugs, some cuddling, a massage here and there) and I had felt reinvigorated. For the first time in a while I again felt excited about spending time with my wife rather than apprehensive. I felt like it would be a good time to start to make the proper approaches for sex again ( we haven't had sex in a couple months), but in the right way. I even tried scheduling a date a couple times because I genuinely just wanted to spend time with her and felt she was in the same place, which I still think she was. Our schedules just didn't align to the point where the next closest day was 3 weeks from today. No big deal, just gives us more opportunity to build anticipation.
About 2 days ago, she started to seem down again. Nothing any worse than normal, but it was a bit of wind out of the sails. I try not to pry when this happens because she insists it's not me every single time and she did just have therapy. Today I felt it again, and actually asked her if she was okay, calling out I could sense her mood was down. I just got a nondescript "Just a lot on my mind and year mood swings are down today". I also can never tell when she is PMSing because she basically doesn't get a period because of her IUD and these downs sometimes last for 2 days, sometimes months. I try to balance being supportive and steering clear when she's like this. It's never yelling or anything, just tension and awkward. I know I mentioned divorce above and it's probably mostly because I'm in this down rut, but each time these cycle happen it just always gets me thinking if I'm wasting my time.
I do 100% love my wife and don't WANT a divorce. I want to be happy with her and with my family. I do A LOT considering I've basically been preparing for her divorcing me for the past 4 years to the point where I basically run the house solo, am the primary caregiver for my son, the primary earner and plan most of our personal lives. I KNOW I am a great father and great husband and I just sometimes don't feel like I'm getting a fair shake. I know a lot of the time these types of complaints seem to come out as "husband just wants more sex", but I really would be happy with just more cuddling being made to feel like I'm appreciated. Don't get me wrong, I DO want more sex, but it's also mostly because I usually feel deeply in love with my wife and thoroughly enjoy making her happy in every way possible.
I really don't know what I'm thinking most of the time on this. I know I could be happier than where we are now, I know she could be happier. She won't talk to me about any problems and insists it's not me, but also states that she can't talk to me about her thoughts because it would "break me". I've fully accepted that she may have cheated on me even though she insists she hasn't, I just wanted to work through it constructively. At what point is it all enough? Is this harder for us because of no support system? Is it just a period in early marriage that people settle into after say year 10? I just want to wake up in the morning, look at my wife and be able to smile at her without my spiraling thoughts.
Thank you for reading my rambling, if anyone does. I'll certainly give more details as this is very much a stream of consciousness, if this interests anyone, but I would appreciate the support.

”Stop.”
I really needed the bathroom.
For fifty painstaking minutes, I had been staring at the clock on the wall, willing it to go faster, uncomfortably shifting side to side in my seat so much that I was starting to get weird looks.
2:52pm.
Eight minutes, I thought dizzily, squeezing my legs together.
Which was just two chunks of four minutes.
Four chunks of two minutes.
The pain started like normal stomach pain, the kind I could deal with.
I swallowed two Tylenol with lukewarm soda.
But this was different.
This kind of pain was contorting and twisting my gut so much, I had to keep leaning onto my left buttock for relief.
I must have done it so many times, I caught the attention of the guy sitting next to me. Roman Hemlock who was half asleep, dark blonde curls hanging in half lidded eyes, his chin leaning on his fist. He shot me a look. I couldn't tell if it was Are you okay? or Can you stop moving around so much?
From the single crease in his brow, the slight curl in his lip, I guessed the latter.
It's not like Roman was helping.
For half the class, he'd been tapping his foot on the floor, then his chair leg, and to complete the orchestra, his fingers joined in, tap, tap, tapping on the edge of his desk. I didn't know if it was a bored thing, an ADHD thing, or he was trying to keep himself awake. It was easy to tolerate without the pain, but with it, the boy’s incessant tapping was more akin to a dentist drill splitting my skull open. I already felt nauseous, the sad looking chicken nuggets I forced down at lunch making an unwelcome appearance at the back of my throat.
It was too fucking hot, the stuffy summer air glueing my hair to the back of my neck. The material of my shirt was making me cringe, sticky against my skin.
Tipping my head back, the lights were too bright. Every sound was too loud. Imogen Prairie, who was sitting behind me chewing her gum a little too loudly.
Kaz Samuels scribbling notes like a maniac.
I could hear every stroke of his pencil, every time he paused, looked up at the presentation, and continued writing.
When I leaned forward in my chair, I could smell exactly what Isabella Trinity had eaten for lunch, the stink hanging in the air.
It became a case of sucking in my stomach and taking slow, deep breaths.
I’d never had these kinds of stomach cramps before. But it didn't take me long to figure out what they were.
I was yet to start my period at the grand age of sixteen, which meant this was it.
After countless sessions with the doctor, and feeling like a social outcast among my group of friends who started their periods in middle school, it had finally happened. The cramps in my gut that felt like my torso was being ripped apart, was in fact me entering womanhood. When my breath started to quicken, my mouth watering, I raised my hand, biting my lip against a cry.
Fuck.
Something lurched in my gut, a wave of nausea crashing into me.
I was going to throw up.
“Mr Brighton.”
Roman spoke up before me, waving his arm. “Can I use the bathroom?”
The teacher’s answer was always the same. Which was why I had been crossing my legs for the entirety of the class, unable to focus on anything but my gut trying to twist itself inside out.
Mr Brighton leaned against the wall, his eyes glued to the PowerPoint awash in our faces. We had been staring at the exact same slide for maybe five minutes now, and our physics teacher was yet to speak, his gaze somewhere else.
Mr Brighton was my Dad’s age, a greying man in his early fifties who always wore the exact same suit with the exact same stain on his collar.
The man was about as interesting as watching paint dry.
Normally, I would drift off myself, lulled into slumber by the low drone of his voice.
But the pain ripping me apart was keeping me awake.
“Mr Brighton.” Roman said, louder. His voice snapped me out of it. “Can I use the bathroom?” He paused, exaggerating a loud sigh. ”Please?”
The teacher straightened up, folding his arms.
“Mr Hemlock, you know the rules. Why didn't you go before class?”
“I didn't need to go an hour ago, did I?”
“You will no longer need to go to the bathroom, Mr Hemlock.”
Roman made a snorting noise.
“What?”
The low murmur of my classmates collapsed into white noise.
Glancing at the clock, I was anticipating the school bell.
The sickness swimming in the pit of my belly was reaching dangerous territory.
2:52pm.
Something ice cold trickled down my spine.
It was 2:52 the last time I checked, and five minutes had surely passed.
This time, I waited a whole minute and counted the seconds under my breath. The clock still didn't move. The ticker was frozen halfway between three and four.
Slowly, the same realisation began to hit the twelve of us. The clock on the wall had stopped. But it wasn't the only thing that had stopped. The cool breeze drifting through the window was gone.
The sound of birds outside, and the cheer squad practising their routine.
Everything had stopped. Trying to ignore a sickly slither of panic twisting its way through me, I checked my phone under my desk. There was a text from my Mom lighting up my notifications. When I tried to swipe it open, nothing happened. My lock screen was frozen, stuck at 2:52pm.
With my hands growing clammy around my phone, I stared at the time, willing it to move, to flick to 2:53.
But nothing happened, the numbers stubbornly staying at 2:52.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Roman’s voice brought me back to reality, though I was sure I'd dropped my phone. I heard it hit the floor with a sickening crack. Whatever he was saying, though, faded into dull murmur, when I turned toward the window.
Something was wrong outside.
The cheer squad were nowhere to be seen.
Being on the top floor gave us a front row seat to their practice sessions.
I stopped watching when their flyer did a death defying flip, almost breaking her neck. 2:52pm. I couldn't see the cheer squad. But I did see Jessie Carson mid-sprint across the track field, strawberry blonde curls suspended in a halo around her.
I could see exactly where she had frozen in place, her left foot hovering off of the ground, her right foot driving momentum. It wasn't just Jessie who had stopped. The dirt she was kicking into a cloud behind her was hovering, caught in mid-air.
Studying the faces around me, my mouth went dry.
Roman Hemlock, mid-argument with our physics teacher.
His eyes were wide, lips curved into what would have been a yell.
Fuck.
Was I the only one?
But then Roman blinked, and I realized the boy wasn't frozen. He was trying to think of a comeback. “What do you mean I won't need the bathroom anymore?”
“Mr Hemlock, please lower your voice.”
“Why? You can't dictate to me when I do and don't need the bathroom, dude!”
Moving onto the rest of my class, the others were still moving.
It was too quiet, though.
Yes, Roman was still tapping his foot.
Imogen was still chewing her gum.
Kaz was still scribbling notes like a psychopath.
But they were the only noise I could hear.
I wasn't the only one confused. The classroom had pricked with a sense of urgency. Kids were checking their phones, their gazes glued to the clock. Even Roman, who was still arguing, was starting to notice. I watched his gaze lazily roll to the clock on the wall.
I pretended not to see his cheeks visibly paling.
We had all come to the exact same terrifying conclusion.
2:52pm.
Time had come to a halt, and somehow, we had not.
“Is that clock broken?” Roman interrupted, leaning forward in his chair.
Kaz twisted around, settling the boy with an eye-roll.
“Check your phone, dumbass.”
“I broke my phone.”
Imogen threw her iPhone at him, narrowly missing hitting him in the face.
“Everything is frozen,” She said, her voice shuddering. “It's not just the clock.”
I waited for Roman’s response. For once, though, he was speechless.
“Well done, Imogen. That is correct.” Mr Brighton spoke up, tearing a piece of paper from a workbook and striding over to the door, glueing it over the glass window. When we started to protest, some of us were shouting, while others bursting into tears, he calmly took out his key and locked us in.
I should have been surprised that our teacher had spontaneously decided to take his entire class hostage, but the rumor mill had been churning.
According to Becca Jason, the guy’s wife divorced him and took his kids.
I could feel myself sinking into my chair, phantom bugs filling my mouth.
So, this guy had nothing to lose.
Taking his place in front of his desk, the man settled us with a patient smile.
“From now on, you will stay inside this room.” He said. “In case you haven't noticed, time is currently frozen at fifty two minutes past two. The thirteen of us are tucked into the twenty first second, and will be, for the foreseeable future.”
I could tell the others wanted to argue, but we couldn't deny that time had stopped. Kaz was staring down at his frozen phone, Imogen hyperventilating behind me, Roman glaring at the clock, chewing on a pencil. We wanted it to be a prank, a joke, some kind of glitch in the matrix that would fix itself.
But then a whole minute passed by. Followed by another. Kaz threw his phone on the floor, hissing in frustration. Imogen let out a wet sounding sob.
Roman’s pencil split in his mouth, slipping from his fingers. We couldn't pretend it wasn't happening or call our teacher out on his BS, because it was everywhere around us. The sudden absence of outdoor ambience, birdsong, planes flying overhead, and traffic outside the school gates. Everyone and everything had stopped, and we were the only ones left.
This was a nightmare, surely.
My physics class were some of the most boring and pretentious people in the school, and somehow the world had been reduced to the twelve of us inside our classroom. We were scared, of course we were. But reality had stopped making sense, crashing and burning in a single second. We had no choice but to listen to our teacher. “Now, before you freak out, it may not feel like it, but the twelve of you have also stopped.”
Mr Brighton held out his own hand, and placed it on his heart.
He was right.
I was so busy trying to understand what was happening, I had failed to realize my period cramps were gone.
“Do me a favor, and press your hand over your heart.”
“You mean like, in a culty way?” Imogen whispered.
“Obviously.” Roman grumbled, halfway out of his seat. He was hesitant, though, in case our teacher was armed. It only took one glance from our teacher, and he slumped back into his chair. “This crazy fucker clearly wants to play mind games with us.”
“No, I'm just asking you to feel for your heart.”
I felt for mine, and there was nothing, my stomach twisting.
Roman stabbed his fingers into his neck, feeling for a pulse.
He tried his wrist.
Then his heart.
Nothing.
“The twelve of you are currently in a state of stasis,” the teacher explained to us, “You are not alive, nor are you dead. Your bodily functions are also on pause, such as your heartbeat and your pulse. In this state there will be no need for food and water, or going to the bathroom.” His gaze found a ghastly looking Roman, who looked like he was going to faint. “Your minds, however, as you can see, are working as usual.”
“But why?” Imogen demanded in a shriek.
Mr Brighton’s lip curled. “I would rather not answer that question.”
“Because you're lonely.” Roman spoke up. He swung back on his chair, narrowed eyes glued to the teacher.
“Your wife and kids left you, so you're asserting power over a group of sixteen year olds. Which is kinda fucking pathetic.”
Mr Brighton’s expression darkened, and something slimy crept up my throat.
The worst thing any of us could do was threaten him. He had taken kidnapping to a whole new level, and we were alone with this psychopath, trapped inside a second. I waited for the man to stride forward and attack the kid. But he didn't. Instead, the teacher leaned back on his desk. “Yes.” The man nodded.
“I suppose you could say I am.”
“But why us?!” Kaz hissed.
“Because you are children.” Mr Brighton responded casually.
He straightened up, taking slow, intimidating steps towards Roman’s desk. The rest of us leaned back. I tried to pull my desk with me, but it was glued to the floor. Frozen. Mr Brighton’s shoes went click-clack across the hardwood floor.
“You are right,” the man said in a murmur, “I am lonely. My wife and kids did leave me, and I have nobody left to control. I have nobody else to contort and use to my advantage.” Reaching Roman’s desk, he leaned in close until he was nose to nose with the kid.
“Congratulations, Mr Hemlock. You have just earned yourself detention.”
Roman stayed stubbornly still, but he was visibly afraid. I could see him very slowly backing away. Roman was all bark and no bite. He was a loud mouth, sure, but he was also the least confrontational person in the class.
“What?” He spluttered. “You trap us in a time loop or time trap, or whatever, and you still want to act like a teacher?”
“Stand up.” The teacher ordered.
“What if I don't?”
Mr Brighton’s expression didn't waver. “You said it yourself. I can and have trapped you inside a single second. What else do you think I'm capable of?”
Roman stood, kicking his chair out of the way.
“What are you planning on doing to me, old man?”
The teacher maintained his smile. “Stand up straight, and close your mouth.”
To my confusion, Roman Hemlock did all the above.
He straightened up, and closed his mouth.
“Do not fight me.” The teacher said calmly, “Do as you are told, and follow me.”
The boy did exactly as instructed.
His jaw slackened, that rebellious light in his eyes fizzling out.
I think that's when we all collectively agreed that going against this teacher and trying to escape was mental suicide.
“I will use Mr Hemlock as an example to all of you,” Mr Brighton said, turning to the rest of us. “If you break the rules or are derogatory in any way, you will be given detention.”
He grabbed the boy’s shoulders, forcing him to walk towards the supply closet. Roman moved like a robot, slightly off balance, his gaze glued to thin air, like he was tracking invisible butterflies.
"Your time in detention will depend on the severity of your rule-break.” He opened the door, gently pushing Roman inside, and following suit. When the door closed behind them, there was a pause, and I remembered how to breathe.
Kaz Samuels slowly got up from his desk, inching towards the closet.
“This guy is a certified nut.” He announced.
He turned towards us. “Whatever he's doing to Hemlock, we’re probably next.”
“He stopped time.” I spoke up, my own voice barely a croak. “He’s capable of anything.”
“But how did he stop time?” Kaz whistled, tipping his head back. The boy was slow, his fingers grasping each desk as he slid down the aisle. “He said he was lonely, right? But why take it out on us? What did we do to him?”
“Check his desk for a weapon!” Imogen whisper-shrieked.
Kaz nodded, striding over to the man's desk, his hands moving frantically, shoving paper on the floor. He took an uncertain seat on the man's chair. “There's nothing here,” he murmured, lifting stained coffee mugs and ancient textbooks. “It's just…test papers.” Kaz ducked from view, trying the drawers.
“He's a fan of Pokémon,” he said, “There's a tonne of Pokémon cards,” Kaz straightened up, running a hand through his hair. “No sign of a weapon, though.”
He picked up a ruler, waving it around. “This could work. If we plunge it in his eye.”
“Try his laptop!” Imogen was halfway out of her seat.
Kaz did, slamming the keys. “It's locked.”
“Look harder!” Ren Clarke threw a pencil at him.
“I am!”
After a minute of searching, Kaz grabbed a single piece of paper.
He held it up, and I squinted.
It was a list of our names, with several of them highlighted.
“Fuck.” Kaz dropped the list, his expression crumpling. The stubborn bravado facade transforming him into our sort of leader dissipated, hollowing him out into exactly what he was. Just a scared kid. Kaz’s hands were shaking.
“Mr Brighton’s got a hit list.” He whispered. “He's going to kill us.”
“How do you know that?” I found myself asking.
Kaz slowly dropped into a crouch, picking up the paper and holding it up.
“Look.” He pointed to a capitalised name at the top of the list highlighted in red.
ROMAN HEMLOCK.
There were six names highlighted in red, including mine.
CRISTA ADAMS.
As if on cue, Roman’s cry rang out from the supply closet, suddenly, freezing us all in place. Kaz jumped up, adapting the expression of a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide, almost unseeing.
He fell over himself to tidy up the desk, putting everything back where he had found it, sliding the list between a pile of test papers. Kaz took slow, stumbled steps back, his feverish gaze glued to the closet, before turning and making a break for it and diving into his seat.
“Brighton’s got a hit liiiist,” Kaz said, in a mocking sing-song, “And we’re all on it.”
What followed was deathly silence. I think we were expecting Roman to cry out again. But when he didn't, the class started to stir. Some kids started praying to a god they didn't believe in, while others were in varying states of denial, trying to call their parents with dead phones.
I wasn't sure what parts of me had stopped, but I was still alive, still felt like my lungs were deprived of oxygen, my chest aching. I'm not sure how long I sat there, trying to find my voice, a shriek trying and failing to rip through my mouth. Being kidnapped and held hostage is one thing, but being imprisoned inside a single, never ending second, was an existential hell worse than death. Slowly, I pressed my palm over my heart once again. Then I breathed into my cupped hands.
I was expecting it, but no longer being able to feel my own heartbeat and breath, was fear I didn't think was possible. The kind that glued me to my seat, hollowing me out completely until I was nothing, an empty shell with no heartbeat, no breath, no thoughts, except denial, followed by acceptance.
And finally, regret.
I regretted not hugging my mother goodbye before I left for school.
I regretted acting like a spoiled brat when my parents refused to drive me halfway across the country so I could attend Coachella.
I regretted stepping inside Mr Brighton’s fourth period physics class.
Mr Brighton reappeared, slamming the door behind him and locking the boy inside. Part of me flinched, while the rest of me remembered not to move a muscle. I was barely aware of time passing. Or it wasn't. Time had stopped, so now long had I been sitting there?
I could no longer measure the passage of time with hunger or thirst, and my body felt the same. I wasn't stiff or tired or achy. Looking out of the window, the sky was the exact same crystal blue, every cloud in the exact same place.
Jessie Carson was still frozen mid-run, strands of dark red hair caught around her.
“What's wrong with you guys?” Mr Brighton chuckled, and I twisted back to the front, a shiver writhing down my spine. “Why don't you give me a smile?”
The teacher returned to his desk, and I was already subconsciously sitting up straight in my seat, forcing my lips into a jaw-breaking grin, following Brighton’s instructions. In the corner of my eye, Imogen was sitting very still, forcing an award-winning cheesy smile, while Kaz grinned through gritted teeth.
“Mr Hemlock just earned himself two weeks inside the supply closet.” he said casually, perching himself on the edge of his desk. The man studied each of us, taking his time to rip every shred of us apart.
Mind, body, and soul.
I struggled to maintain my stupid smile, shoving my shaking hands in my lap.
“Would anyone like to join him, or are you going to follow the rules?”
The rest of us stayed silent. I don't think any of us breathed.
Our teacher nodded to Kaz, inclining his head.
“Samuels. Are you all right?”
Kaz’s smile faltered slightly. He shifted in his chair. I could see sweat trickling down his right temple. “Uh, yeah.” He swiped at his forehead, like he couldn't believe he was sweating. “Yeah, I'm good.”
The teacher’s eyes narrowed. He moved toward his desk, and we all held our breaths. Mr Brighton seemed to study his hit-list, lips curving into a frown.
His gaze flicked to the boy, and then the paper.
He knew, I thought dizzily.
Mr Brighton knew the kid had been rummaging through his desk. But this was all about control. The teacher was using fear to control us, to manipulate our thoughts without having to get physical. He could have called out the boy right then, but Brighton was settling with mental torture instead. He just wanted to make my classmate squirm.
Without a word, the man folded up the piece of paper and slipped it into his pocket. “Mr Samuels, you are sweating,” our physics teacher said, mocking a frown. “Are you feeling okay?”
Kaz hesitated, tapping his shoe in a rhythm.
Being one of the smartest kids in the room definitely gave him an advantage.
I could already see the cogs turning behind half lidded eyes. Kaz was weighing each scenario, sorting them into positives and negatives.
The positives of answering would mean he was one step towards being in the clear, but there were two negatives.
Brighton would question him if he had left his seat, and then demand how his hit-list had magically moved across the desk.
Talking back was surely a rule-break, as well as outright lying.
Opening his mouth would get him in trouble, either way, and Kaz knew that.
So, he just nodded, forcing an even bigger smile.
Brighton’s lips pricked, his gaze straying on Kaz. “Good!” He cleared his throat, turning to the class. Kaz slumped in his seat with a sharp breath, resting his head in his arms. If Mr Brighton noticed, he didn't say anything. “Ignore the sweating. It should stop, along with hunger and thirst.”
Our teacher seemed to be able to manipulate everything in his vicinity.
Time.
Minds.
And slowly… contorting us into his own.
In the single second we were trapped inside, I felt days go by in a dizzying whirlwind that was like being permanently high. When I stood up, I felt like I was floating.
When I sat down, hours could go by, even days, and I wouldn't even feel them. I did try and count the days, initially, scribbling them on a scrap piece of paper, but somewhere around the thirteenth or fourteenth day, I lost count. The world around us never changed, in permanent stasis, and maybe that was sending us a little crazy.
After a while of being stuck at our desks, Mr Brighton allowed us to wander the classroom, as long as we stayed away from the door. I lay on the floor for days, counting ceiling tiles.
Sometimes, Imogen would join me.
I couldn't sleep, but I could pretend to sleep, imagining a world that was back to normal. I didn't feel hungry, but my brain did like to remind me of food at the weirdest times. I was aware of weeks passing us by, and then months.
I never grew hungry or tired, and my bodily functions were none existent.
I couldn't remember what pain felt like, or the urge to go to the bathroom. Even the concept of eating and drinking became foreign to me. Putting something in your mouth and chewing to sustain yourself?
That sounded odd.
The only thing that was changing was our slowly unravelling metal state.
I don't know how it started. Weekends and Tuesdays blended together. On one particular SaturTuesday, I was hanging upside down from my desk, watching Kaz and Imogen doodle on the whiteboard.
Kaz had a plan to escape, but after a while, his ‘plan’ to distract the teacher, had gone nowhere. After passing notes between us, the twelve of us had decided that we needed a weapon.
That was maybe a month ago. I wasn't sure what mind games our teacher was playing, but Kaz Samuels, who we were counting on to be our brains, was slowly falling under his spell. Their game had been going on for three days. The two of them were having a competition to see who could draw the craziest thing.
Mr Brighton was at his desk as usual, marking papers.
Imogen was drawing a weird looking ‘skateboard’ when the doors to the storage closet flew open.
Roman Hemlock appeared, and to my surprise, wasn't a hollow eyed shell.
He held up his hand in a wave, his lips forming a small smile.
“Yo.”
Roman’s reappearance was enough to snap us out of it. Kaz and Imogen stopped arguing, the rest of the class going silent. I sat up, blinking rapidly.
I was sure our collective consensus was that Roman Hemlock was dead.
Mr Brighton lifted his head and gave the boy a civil nod. “Mr Hemlock will be rejoining us,” he said, his gaze going back to marking papers. “Please make him feel comfortable. I'm sure he's very excited to be able to talk to you again.”
Instead of going to his desk, the boy immediately joined the others, snatching the marker off of a baffled looking Kaz, and drawing an overly artistic sketch of a penis. I wasn't sure what confused me more. The fact that Roman Hemlock had some serious artistic skills, or that he seemed suspiciously fine for someone who had been locked in the storage closet for two weeks with no social interaction.
With my last few lingering brain cells still clinging on, I studied the boy.
There were no signs of bruises or scratches.
His eyes seemed normal, not diluted or half lidded.
Unable to stop myself, I jumped off of my desk and joined the others, where Kaz was already interrogating the guy.
“WHAT–”
Imogen nudged him, and he lowered his voice, leaning against the wall. “What did he do to you?”
Roman shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Relax, dude. He didn't do anything to me.”
“Then what was that yell?” Imogen hissed.
The boy cocked his head. “Yell?”
“You yelled out,” Kaz folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. He was already suspecting one of us had been compromised– or worse, brainwashed into compliance. Kaz stepped closer, backing Roman into the desk. “You cried out when you first went in there,” he murmured, “So, what was that?”
Something in Roman’s eyes darkened. “Oh,” He said, his lip curling. “That.”
Kaz’s expression softened. He rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Yeah,” He whispered. “What did he do to you?”
Imogen shoved Kaz out of the way, shooting the boy a glare.
“You don't have to tell us, you know.” She said in a small voice. “If it's too traumatising, or he did something you don't want to talk about–”
Roman cut her off with a laugh, and suddenly, all eyes were on him.
The remaining nine of us were eagerly awaiting an explanation.
“Are you fucking serious?”
When Kaz didn't respond, Roman gathered us in a kind of hustle, the four of us grouped together. I felt like I was on the football field. Still, though, if the guy’s goal was to look as suspicious as possible, he was doing a great job.
Roman studied each of us, one eyebrow cocked. When Mr Brighton glanced up from his work, Roman shot him a grin, lowering his voice to a hiss.
“You seriously think our fifty year old physics teacher has been abusing me in the storage closet?
“Then why did you cry out?” Kaz demanded. “Did he hit you?”
Roman stuck out his bottom lip. “I'm pretty sure he didn't hit me.”
“So, you cried out for no reason.”
“Why are you covering for him?” Imogen poked his forehead. “Are you lobotomised?”
Roman wafted her hand away. “Stop prodding me, and no, I'm 100% good.” He backed away from us, like we were observers, and he was the zoo attraction.
“I won't be, if you keep treating me like I'm senile.”
“Okay, fine,” Kaz sighed. “Just answer one.”
“Shoot.”
“When you first went in there, you made an unmistakable sound of distress–”
“Not this again,” Roman groaned. “Of course I yelled! I was shoved into a pitch black storage closet on my own! What, did you expect me to stay silent?”
Kaz didn't look convinced, Imogen nervously sucking her teeth.
The boy leaned back, resting his head against the wall. His eyes flickered shut.
“Stop looking at me like that, there's nothing to tell you,” he murmured, “Brighton didn't do shit to me. I was just freaked out.” Prying one eye open, he fixed us with a glare. “I am so sorry for reacting like a human. Next time, I'll make sure to attack him and pin him to the ground.”
It's not like we believed him. I don't think Roman believed himself.
Something significant had changed in him. He was no longer argumentative, like half of his personality had been torn away. Roman set a precedent. Because once he was following instructions and walking around with a dazed smile, others began to follow. I can't remember how much time had passed since I thought about escaping.
Days and weeks and months had collapsed into fleeting seconds I only noticed when I wasn't playing games.
I wasn't aware of my own lack of sanity until I found myself, on a random SaturWednesday. I was laughing, gathered with the others on the floor, around a Monopoly board. The game had been going on for almost a week.
Reality hit me when I was laughing so hard I tipped back.
I can't remember why I was laughing. I think Imogen told a bad joke.
“Hand it over.” Roman, who was the King of Monopoly, held out his hand, demanding my last 250 bucks. I remember noticing his smile, my foggy brain trying to find hints that he was in some kind of trance, or being controlled by Brighton. But no. His smile was real.
Genuine.
To my shock and confusion, so was mine.
I wasn't in a trance or any type of mind manipulation. I was completely conscious.
Was this… Stockholm syndrome? I thought dizzily.
Was I enjoying this?
My thoughts were like cotton candy, disconnected and wrong, and they barely felt like my own. My gaze found Imogen and Kaz, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder, enveloped in the game.
They looked exactly the same, their hair, clothes, everything about them staying stagnant. It was them themselves who had drastically changed. I had never seen them look so carefree. Imogen was a hotheaded cheerleader, and Kaz was the smart kid who gave himself nosebleeds from overworking himself. But now, they were laughing, nudging each other, caught up in an inside joke. Blinking slowly, my gaze strayed on them.
Sure, it could be manipulation. It could be brainwashing. But it could also be real.
Kaz caught my eye, raising a brow.
“You good, Christa?”
Again, my smile felt real. Like I was having fun.
“Good. It's your turn.”
I picked up the dice, throwing them across the board.
Two sixes.
“I can already see her landing on one of my hotels.” Roman murmured. He sat up, resting his chin on his knees. “As the clear winner, I have a proposition.”
Ignoring him, I moved my piece– immediately landing on Park Place.
“I'll give you 500,” Roman announced, “If you give up New York avenue.”
“That's all I've got!”
Imogen nudged me. “Don't do it. If you give him New York Avenue, he only needs one more.”
“One thousand.” Roman waved the notes in my face.
“My final offer.”
When I reached for the cash, he held it back.
“New York Avenue, he said, with a grin.
“And your pride.”
Reluctantly, I handed my only property over.
Kaz threw the dice and moved his piece, and I half remembered we had an escape plan. “Community chest.” Kaz picked up a card. “Go straight to jail.”*
Roman spluttered. “That's karma,” he said, “For stealing from the bank.”
“You were stealing too!”
We had a plan.
We had…. a plan.
After discussing it in detail, Imogen and I were going to try and get onto Brighton’s laptop. It wasn't a perfect way to escape, but it was coherent.
So, what happened?
We were going to get out, so what… what was this?
Kaz’s earlier words hit me from months ago.
“Mr Brighton *is the thing keeping us here,”* he explained. “If we kill him, I'm like, 98% sure we’ll go back to normal.”
“Okay, and what if he dies and we’re *stuck?”* Imogen whisper-shrieked.
“I said 98% for a reason. Yes, there's a small chance his power will die with him. But there's a bigger chance that its effects will die when he does.”
Ren nodded slowly. “Right, and where exactly did you learn this information?”
“You'll feel a lot better if I don't answer that.”
“Okay.” Ren gritted his teeth. “So, we just need to find a weapon, right?”
“And don't tell Hemlock,” Kaz rolled his eyes. “I don't care what he says, that boy definitely had his mind fucked with. Hemlock is a liability. If we tell Roman, he tells Brighton, and we’re screwed.” Kaz nodded to me, then the others. “Keep your mouths shut.”
Presently, I wasn't sure the boy wanted to escape.
Slowly, I rolled my eyes over to Mr Brighton, who had joined us to play.
He was happily marking papers, taking part when he could.
It felt…right.
Not like we had been forced or manipulated, but more like he belonged. Part of me wanted to question why I felt like this, but I found that I didn't care. I didn't care that we were essentially dead, in a never ending stasis and stuck inside fifty two minutes past two. I stopped thinking about the outside world a long time ago.
I couldn't even remember my Mom’s face.
I made my decision, dazedly watching Imogen throw a chance card at Roman.
He flung one back, threatening to tip the board.
I wanted to stay.
In the corner of my eye, however, someone was still awake.
Ren, who had been sitting next to me, kept moving, further and further away. I didn't notice until he was inching towards our teacher, a box cutter clenched between his fist. There must have been a point when we found a box cutter, when we made it our weapon of choice.
But somewhere along the way, I think we just… lost the longing to want to escape.
I didn't see the exact moment the boy stabbed the blade into the man's neck, plunging it through his flesh, but I did feel a sudden jolt, like time itself was starting to falter and tremble.
Mr Brighton dropped to the ground, and I found my gaze flashing to the frozen clock.
Which was moving, suddenly.
Slowly creeping towards 2:53pm.
Something sticky ran underneath me, warm and wet.
Blood.
Blood that was running.
Roman’s half lidded eyes found mine, and he blinked, dropping the dice.
Like he'd been asleep for a long time.
2:53pm.
We were free.
The cool spring breeze grazing my cheeks was back. I could feel my own heartbeat, sticky sweat on my forehead.
And outside, Jessie Carson let out a gut-churning scream.
For a disorienting moment, I don't think any of us believed we were free.
Roman twisted around, his gaze on the doorway.
The piece of paper the teacher had stuck to the glass slipped away.
But Roman’s gaze was glued to the door, his cheeks paling.
His lips parted into a silent cry.
Following his eyes, I glimpsed a shadow.
A shadow that was frozen at 2:52pm.
2:53pm.
“Fuck.” Roman whispered, stumbling to his feet.
He turned to the rest of us, his eyes wild.
“Get DOWN!”
I dropped onto my knees, crawling under a desk, the classroom exploding around me.
2:54.
Blood splattered the walls, and I was crawling in it, stained in my friends.
2:55.
I grabbed Mr Brighton's hand, squeezing for dear life.
Roman joined me, his trembling fingers feeling for a pulse.
A gunshot rang in my ears, rattling my skull.
When Roman went limp next to me, I wrapped my arms around my teacher.
“Mr Brighton, say Stop.”
He was so cold…
“Mr Brighton! Take us back!”
Footsteps coming towards me.
2:56.

Blood Clot pt2
I'm out of the bathroom and am back in my car. I’ll pick up where I left off. If you haven't read the first part click here.
Feeling slightly more awake, I changed and disposed of all my used napkins after putting them in a trash bag. I had no idea what to do or think, especially since I had work the next day. Hafiz died to protect me from that demon and it did nothing. I drove into an abandoned parking lot and sobbed. My entire life was falling apart because of a single awful entity. My future now seemed impossible because of a grotesque monster who hated me for putting in effort to live. I couldn't believe what was happening and since my coping skills are admittedly pretty awful, I just distracted myself by finishing my notes. Eating the rest of my cashews and straining my eyes to read the page. I could have driven to the library but I had a limit on gas money.
I wasn't able to sleep for the rest of the night. The thought of seeing Tolc again plagued my mind every time my body started to rest. Every noise and visual kept me on edge. I prayed constantly, despite wishing I had a more proper environment to do so. That along with remembering the Quran’s words on perseverance kept me sane. When morning came I decided to bite the bullet and buy supplies. Stocking up on gauze and tissues. It was a hard call to make as the money I spent on the supplies was originally designated for food. Sure, not all of my food budget was spent on it but it was just enough to make me doubt my choice.
When I got back to campus I tried to act normal, but everyone could tell something was wrong. The dirty looks I got from classmates were exasperated as they stared at my wrapped hand. Their gaze was never one of sympathy, but disgust. I tried to ignore it but I couldn't help but overhear a girl mutter about how she thought I attacked someone. All the while I bit down on my lip to stifle a whine of pain. The craters in my hand were now inching closer to my knuckles. A palpable sting persisted each minute, bordering on insufferable once the layers of my skin grew flaky. I couldn't take the maddening sensation anymore and excused myself to use the restroom, unwrapping the bandage when I got inside.
“Come on,” I whispered through gritted teeth observing my trembling hand. It looked just as bad as it felt.
I grabbed some paper towels and patted my wound down. Finally allowing myself to wail in a mix of pain and relief. Making sure the water was cold, I ran my craters under the sink. I shivered from the temperature and recoiled as I rubbed soap over it. Muttering prayers to myself as the chill liquid slid through the cuts. After half a minute I dried it, laid down a layer of paper towels, and laid out my supplies, frantically cutting and applying the gauze. Rushing to pack my things since I still had a class to return to. As I swooped up my scissors, I heard a familiar voice.
“Woah what’s up with you?”
Instinctively I pointed the scissors in the direction of the voice. A choice I immediately regretted.
“Hey, don’t point that at me! What’s next you’ll run up with a bomb strapped to your chest.”
Chris, smiled, acting like his sad excuse for a joke was funny.
“I’m sorry, you spooked me. I just got done wrapping my hand and used these to cut the bandages.”
I nervously held up my wrapped hand as evidence and he furrowed his brow.
“Yeah, and I’m sure you got that cut from glass and not a blood sacrifice.”
His words completely perplexed me.
“Wait, what?”
“I know what you’re doing, I learned all about your people.”
I took a deep breath, dreading the conversation that was about to follow. Of course, the school’s resident racist conspiracy theorist walked in.
“Respectfully, whatever you think is going here isn't what’s happening. I did get it from glass. My hand split open when I was cleaning up a broken vase yesterday.“
I wanted to tell him that whatever hateful trash he was eating up was untrue, but if I even implied that he’d lose it.
“You’re just using my lie! Which I should expect because that book you worship is full of them!”
I sighed, putting my scissors away.
“I don't see it that way but you can say that if you want.”
I internally cringed at being civil with this man who smelled worse than the blood I just rinsed.
“Look, I’ve seen you around and haven’t said anything but I won’t let you bring your hellish beliefs to this campus like this!”
I averted my eyes and began to walk away.
“Boy, where are you going!” he yelled, pulling me back by my jacket.
Normally I wouldn’t give much attitude but by this point, I was too tired to keep being so docile. Respect is built into me but there’s still a limit.
“Back to class, to write a research paper you’d never read because it has facts.” I snarled, pushing past him and increasing speed.
“God, you’re delusional, you know that!” he angrily spoke without understanding the irony.
Luckily he didn't pursue me for the rest of the day, but the interaction stuck in my mind. Once my classes were done, I was feeling pretty exhausted. The deterioration in my hand had subsided but it was still there, and the lack of caffeine didn't help. When I got to my car I cracked open the second to last can of my emergency energy drinks. I had kept them in a lunch pale in the back pocket of my passenger seat for desperate times, this being one of them. I downed it before waking in, quickly fixing my hair as I entered.
I sat at my desk and checked to make sure the sewing machine was plugged in. Taking a deep breath while reminding myself to stay focused. The first few hours were a blur, I did what I needed to do but the moment I finished a piece it faded from my mind. The only thing I remember being the concerned comments from co-workers about my injury. Sometimes I even forgot what I was doing as I sewed it, needing to check my reference multiple times. Our store is open more than most custom embroidery shops, which is a blessing and a curse. It allows me to get more hours but at the same time, it makes my passion for what I‘m doing diminish. Which I know is what happens when a fun hobby turns into a job, but still. I was starting to get tired of stitching in logos.
The number of customers slowed, leaving me alone at my desk. Reflecting on not only that day but my life. Tolc’s words reverberated in my mind as I stared at my wrapped hand. All this work and I wasn't satisfied. I felt lucky to be alive and fully acknowledged what little privilege I did have, but I wasn't exactly happy. Things could be worse but it was easy to see the ways they could be a lot better. It took me a long time to accept it but in that moment I did. I wasn’t anywhere close to where I wanted to be.
”Maybe, he’s right.” I murmured to myself, struggling to keep my head up. I could feel that my body was moments away from a crash. I checked my phone, realizing that we were minutes from closing, and tugged on my hair to wake myself. I cleaned up my workspace, practically hobbling to my car. The cold hit me as soon as I stepped out. My lips quivered as I sat in the driver's seat. That in tandem with my tiredness made me struggle to hold myself together as I drove into a rest stop parking lot. I zipped up my sweatshirt, breathing into my hands, before turning on the heater.
“Wait,” I uttered, realizing that my blanket was in the trunk. Looking out my window I saw hail begin to fall from the sky.
“Of course,” I groaned, clicking my trunk open and running out. The frigid chunks felt like pebbles getting thrown down on me. I bit my teeth harder with each step, grabbing my blanket before running back in.
Curling up into a ball in my chair with a hefty sigh. I tried to stay up a little longer despite knowing I wouldn't be able to. After ten minutes I found myself slipping from consciousness. My eyelids dropped like the harsh hail from the freezing sky above me. Leaving me lying with the little warmth I had.
“Wow, you look like you haven't felt this shitty in a while, and that’s saying something.” that dreaded voice commented. I had the blanket over my eyes but I could tell he was smiling.
“Whoever told you ducking under the covers would save you from monsters lied.” he chuckled, pulling it off me. Yanking my bandaged hand up to his face.
“It's been a day and you already need gauze? Damn, I forgot how much my bite stings. I haven't done it in a while since I decided to spare your brother from it.”
“Let me guess I didn't get that treatment because in your opinion I got a chance to get better and he didn't?”
He nodded, grabbing my blanket and observing the embroidery on it.
“Aw, how cute, did your mom sew you this?” he mocked.
“Partly, every weekend she and I would work one patch together. Hate to break it to you but trying to make fun of me for having good childhood memories isn't that effective.”
He shrugged, tossing it over his shoulders like a cape.
“Maybe not, but I know it's making you miss those times.”
The chill from earlier had started to come back.
“Alright, just get to the point.” I snarled, curling back up.
He wrapped the blanket around his torso while responding.
“If you haven’t noticed already I’ve been going easy on you today. Just leaving your hand to fester.”
He slumped down sideways, resting his legs on my curled-up knees.
“I’m giving you this break hoping that it's allowing you to reflect on your current life and if it’s worth fighting for.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You seem to think I’m a lot weaker than I am. I’m not giving up after one day.”
He flashed his horrid grin again, red pupils shining the dark. The lights from the rest stop being the only thing preventing us from being swallowed in black.
“It’s funny, your kind always says the same thing right before the first crack in that armor forms.”
“My kind?” I sharpened my gaze.
“Yeah. Your kind. I told you last time, I go after a certain type of person, so I get a lot of the same responses. People like you are so predictable, putting up a fight saying that they’ll be able to beat a power like me.”
He snickered, strangely thick spit seeping between his teeth.
“The result is always one of two things. One, they kill themselves to escape the pain thinking that their death will somehow matter more than their life. Or two, I break them, assume their place, and make something better with the usable parts of their rubble.”
At that moment his smile appeared more sinister than it ever had before. His words were so viscerally wrong.
“So, with that being said, which route are you choosing?”
I slowly sat up, purposely moving my legs last.
“Neither.”
I swiftly shoved his legs off, almost making him fall over. His smile quickly faded as he was turned on his side. Moving out of the blanket wrap he threw it back at me.
“Alright, fine, you want to play with fire like that?” he yelled, yanking me by the back of my sweatshirt.
“You are sleeping in a car in 40-something-degree weather, working at a place that’s killing your passion, and SOMEHOW think that existence is worth picking a fight with a demon for!” he growled, letting go of my sweater and grasping my neck. I tried to pull his hands away but I couldn't make a dent in his grip.
“I’ve given you your chance to submit and pass on peacefully, just like I gave you a chance to be something and yet again you failed!”
I coughed, doing my best to breathe through my nose.
“So prepare yourself for the morning because now I’ll revel like crushing a burnt rodent like you!”
As oxygen failed to reach my brain, my eyes closed.
I woke up with a sprain in my neck with my blanket on the other chair. I got out of my car to stretch, the cold air wafting over me. My stomach grumbled as I remembered that I hadn't eaten the night before. I checked for snacks but I was out. I groaned and noticed that my throat was hoarse from earlier. I attempted to speak but could barely get a word out. It worried me but I decided not to focus on it. At this point, I knew I’d probably be late for my first class no matter what so I didn't rush myself.
I got a bag of dry cereal and started eating it with a plastic spoon on a bench outside. I knew I looked pathetic, but it was hard to care about it with how hungry I was. After a few minutes, I felt an ick in my throat and my ears started ringing. Immediately, I knew what it was. I rushed to my car to put away my food and grab my supplies. Walking back inside the rest stop and into a stall in the bathroom. My eyes stung and my ears throbbed, the feeling of fluid coming up from both palpable. I got on my knees and put sponges in my ears as I started to gag. I closed my eyes as they bled, gore leaking from the folds in my eyelids
My entire body shook as each hole in my face bled. My nose stung like it had been attacked by a bee hive and my mouth tasted like a lump of steel. I did my best to plug it up with tissues but it barely did anything. I flushed the toilet at least five times from all the bloodied tissues and tried to rinse my eyes under the sink. Luckily no one saw me bleeding, but it still added a layer of humiliation anytime someone came in and I had to act like I was okay. I know I probably should have reached out, but I honestly didn't expect anyone to help me.
It’s cynical, I know, but in my experience, most people see someone like me and decide to let me suffer alone. Besides, I already felt vulnerable enough, I didn't need someone else seeing me in that state. Anyway, it continued for about 20 minutes with short breaks between, and as I slumped against this filthy toilet feeling my life force gush out, I thought about how no one would likely ever know why it happened. They’d find the body of this brown man covered in his blood with no idea how he got there. Not like it would probably matter to them. I hate to admit it but Tolc was right in a way. People like me die all the time and no one cares to make a headline about it.
My reflection stared back at me in the mix of toilet water and blood. Everything looked slightly red and for a moment and I feared I’d lose my sight. Maybe my life isn’t that remarkable but if I died then I’d at least want to be known for my death with the full story included. So once I got my bearings, I started typing the first post. If I wasn’t going to make it I at least wanted someone to know even if they didn’t believe me. I got a lot of horrified looks as I walked out with my face barely rinsed, and a wave of shame clouded me. Each one of their eyes was a needle sewing into my self-consciousness, but I got through it. I changed my clothes, wanting to burn the jeans that I’d spent almost an hour in on that disgusting floor. I drove to the middle of nowhere to set up an inflatable pool I could fill water with, making sure I was far from where people could see me.
Even though it was just as embarrassing as any other time I had to do it, it felt like the best bath in my life. Sure the cost of the gas I had to use and the worry someone would see me raged in the back of my mind, but for once I was able to keep it at bay. I’ve been writing this in my car for the past hour and a half or so. I feel bad about missing classes but I just can't today. Honestly, I’m not even sure how I’ve been able to stay awake. That’s everything that’s happened so far, I'm as okay as I can be right now, but I’m even more hopeless than before.

Please read the post in its entirety. The possible plots listed are merely ideas. I'd love to brainstorm and expand on the plots below or come up with different ideas for our characters.
Dismantling The Vampiric Regime:
Magic is a plague on the earth. Humans despise the unknown and often turn on the few who possess such talents. Muse A has kept her abilities a secret, living in relative isolation before she steps out into the political arena after volunteering to be the annual sacrifice to Muse B, her vampiric overlord. Muse A has no intention of being a willing lamb to the slaughter, however. She’s determined to dismantle the system that sees humans as cattle and vampires as civilized aristocrats.
The Rise of a New Creature:
Muse A, a human scientist obsessed with the supernatural, and Muse B, a vampire queen ruling over her domain with an iron fist, find themselves drawn together when a new species of supernatural creatures begins to emerge, threatening the delicate balance of power in their world. As the creatures grow increasingly aggressive and unpredictable, Muse A and Muse B reluctantly work together to investigate the source of the creatures’ origins and find a way to contain the threat before it spirals out of control.
Immortal Enemies:
Two ancient beings—an elven sorcerer and a vampire noblewoman—have been locked in a centuries-old feud. Neither remembers why they hate the other, but they simply do. Time and time again, they attempt to kill the other, and yet they never seem to succeed. As the centuries pass, they begin to look forward to the next scheme, often resorting to trickery rather than true attempts to end the other’s life for their existence would be dull without their beloved rival.
~*~
A little about me. I've been writing for nine years (give or take). My passion for fantasy and dark themes is unending—if you want me to like you, come with a fucked up plot. Magic is never required, but highly encouraged. While I have premade plots above, I’m always interested in what your thoughts are! Don’t like any of them? No worries. We’ll come up with something better. :)
If we decide we'd be good partners, I'd love to brainstorm a plot and characters with you. If you’re curious to see what my writing style is like feel free to look at my profile. I’ve recently begun a challenge where I (try) to write a short story every day, so there is quite a bit of material for you to peruse through if you’d like.
Please note, I only write on Discord.
But before we get to the fun bit, here are some things to note:

• I only play female characters. If romance is involved, I will only accept Female x Female/Nonbinary/Trans
• I only play in the third person and ask that my partner do as well. I prefer past tense but don't mind present.
• Longer responses are always encouraged. I don't expect a novel, but to keep things interesting, I enjoy 3-14 paragraphs depending on the situation.
• I am in university. My schedule is rather inconsistent, but I will always let you know ahead of time if I'll be gone for more than a couple of days. But if you feel like I've forgotten about you or our plot, please don't hesitate to reach out.
• OOC discussions are my favorite. I love squealing over our characters' interactions and brainstorming. However, that being said, I don't share personal information and I would ask the same of my partner.
• I do NOT write smut. Any steamy scenes will fade to black, but I am happy to entertain romance between characters.

Boundaries:

• Minors—all main characters must be 20+
• Fandoms, I prefer to make our own world. The two exceptions I'm willing to make is for ATLA or LOK
• Wrestling
• Self-harm (this is acceptable if it is a part of your character's back story)
• Overly anxious characters
• Mutilation (this is something I'm willing to talk about in PM)
• Controlling my character.
• Ignoring what I write. Everyone has their moments where they miss a detail here and there, but if you're outright ignoring what I put in my response all the time (especially if I bring it to your attention), our plot will be put on the "respond last" list.
• Ghosting. If there's something you don't enjoy or if you've lost interest, please tell me. I'm happy to make adjustments or wish you well. Don't be immature. I will always let you know if I feel that the plot, our writing styles, or something else isn't working for me.
• Overpowered characters. Nothing makes me lose interest faster than a character who somehow always has a solution to a problem OR a character who can't handle not having the upper hand.
• Text talk within your writing. However, I don't care if you do it OOC.

Must Read: I am in a healthy, happy relationship with my wonderful girlfriend. Do not flirt with me. Romance will only happen between our characters. I love making friends and having conversations OOC, but I have serious boundaries when it comes to flirting or being disrespectful. Compliments regarding writing are always welcomed, but let's keep things respectful. :) Please add "Chicken Noodle Soup" in your first message if you read this.
If you're interested, I’d love to hear from you. I look forward to getting to know you and developing our story together <3 Have a wonderful day.

12 minutes of Armenia coverage by Transcaucasian Telegraph. Follow for regular updates.

protesters led by Bagrat Galstanyan clashed with police while attempting to enter the Foreign Ministry building

The pro-Russian former regime continues to demand PM Pashinyan's resignation. Yesterday protest co-organizer Bagrat Galstanyan said he was preparing a "surprise" for the government.
On Friday, Galstanyan and a group of supporters clashed with the police after he gave FM Mirzoyan and other ministry officials "30 minutes to come down and talk" and said he would enter the building if they didn't come. Galstanyan said he wanted the crowd to enter the building, too, but the police was against it.
Galstanyan said that the police "would be responsible for any clash". He said he didn't care if the police brought 2,000 more officers because he was determined to enter the building. The crowd eventually clashed with the police. The officers pushed them back. Galstanyan threatened the police chief: "You will answer with your head." Galstanyan wasn't happy that the foreign ministry leadership refused to meet him. The police warned him not to incite the crowd. He blamed the police for the incident.
Galstanyan was rousing the crowd before the clash. He accused the police of hooliganism and using insults, and urged his supporters to treat the police "like they treat you". He held the loudspeaker at the police and gestured for his followers to shout at them. The situation began to intensify. Some officers began slamming their batons against their shields but the commander signaled them to stop, and they did.
Galstanyan instructed his followers not to back down: "Do not take a step back... Our patience has limits." Galstanyan kept accusing the police of inciting things while the police stood there without taking action. The police spokesman also brought a loudspeaker and accused Galstanyan of being an agitator and inciting the crowd.
7 police officers and several protesters were hospitalized after the clash. 28 protesters were arrested and are facing charges.
During the evening speech, Galstanyan said he doesn't regret today's events and urged his followers to take action and get arrested if necessary:
GALSTANYAN: If you do not get arrested today by this government, tomorrow you will have to answer for that. //
Hanun Republic party chief Arman Babajanyan, a former churchman, said that Church leader Garegin B will be responsible for future clashes incited by his "imprudent son" Bagrat.
BABAJANYAN: I hope FM Mirzoyan and others won't meet this clown and won't interact with him. This movement has become an entertainment for media outlets in Turkey and Azerbaijan. //
REPORTER: The number of protesters is small. Is the protest fading?
ARF MP GARNIK (co-organizer): It's not the protest that's fading, it's those people [Nikol]. We have many supporters in the state apparatus who will join us. //
Bagrat Galstanyan was nominated by the former regime as their candidate to replace PM Pashinyan. In response to observations that Galstanyan cannot be a PM because he must wait at least 4 years after ending his dual citizenship, Galstanyan's supporters say there are ways to bypass the restriction. For example, Serj-era Justice Minister Gevorg Danielyan claims there are no constitutional obstructions, while Galstanyan's supporter lawyer Arsen Babayan [Serj-era parliament official] suggests ignoring the Constitution altogether.
ARSEN BABAYAN: When the issue is to save the country, the Constitution and the law must be pushed to the background. This is very important. We cannot lose the country because of the law and the Constitution. Let's not forget that it's the people who decide how the Constitution should be. I want Galstanyan to be appointed as the PM and then amend the Constitution, not the other way around. //
RULING MP: The daily nonsense continues. In other words, Arsen Babayan admits that there is a legal obstruction but he wants that obstruction to be ignored and changed later.
REPORTER: ARF MP Garnik Danielyan says they have supporters in state agencies who are ready to join them when the time is right.
RULING MP: It doesn't matter what Danielyan says; he is just selling hope to his supporters.
REPORTER: Your administration failed to "clean up" the state agencies and carry out "lustration".
RULING MP: We promised after the 2018 revolution not to carry out a vendetta and to allow experts to stay in their positions. This is why so many employees with ties to former administrations continued to work and receive higher positions. It's another thing that they didn't understand and appreciate the opportunity to serve the state and not the government. Today the opposition is doing the [self-]lustration much better than we could have ever done.
Today the protest organizers are trying to bait the authorities to take certain actions against protesters so the organizers can present it as a valid reason to end the protests because they understand they have reached a dead end. The only thing they have accomplished is annoying the residents and obstructing their roads. //
The opposition doesn't have enough votes to initiate an impeachment process against Pashinyan, let alone succeed by securing a majority of votes. They are short of 1 vote to initiate the process. They are hoping to convince their former partyman Ishkhan Zakharyan to join the process but Zakharyan left their ranks a while ago to continue his service as an independent MP and doesn't seem to be eager to join the impeachment. On Friday Zakharyan was seen with Pashinyan's Chief of Staff Arayik Harutyunyan during the session of the Executive Committee of the Pan-Armenian Games. Zakharyan recently told protest leader Bagrat Galstanyan that he "doesn't reject" the impeachment process but there are no reports of him joining it either.
In other news. Bagrat Galstanyan's supporter Don Pipo, a criminal subculture figure wanted by Armenian authorities since 2022 for allegedly organizing a murder, is organizing groups of Russian-Armenians to travel to Armenia to join Galstanyan's protests.
In other news. The police announced the arrest of a protester who had a dispute and allegedly stabbed a fellow protester in the cheek and neck in the backyard of St. Anna church where Galstanyan regularly holds evening gatherings to announce the plan for the following day.
video, video, source, source, video, video, video, video, patgamavor mard end, video, source, source, source, source, source, source, source, source, source, source, source,

Pashinyan spent Friday eating ice cream and attending the opening ceremony of a newly rebuilt amphitheater in Vedi

He distributed ice cream to kids.
video, video, full ceremony, source,

the Church owns hundreds of apartments that are not being taxed: ruling party MP

MP VARDANYAN: There needs to be a study to understand the volume so we can decide how to tax just as we tax other things under Armenia's law. //
The MP pulled out a phone with an Excel sheet reportedly displaying the list of properties owned by the Church and scrolled it for several pages to show it to the reporters.
MP VARDANYAN: There needs to be a study to understand how these properties are being used. The ones used for commercial purposes and manufacturing must pay taxes like everyone else does. This study is my personal initiative with a group of colleagues; it's not an official process yet.
REPORTER: When was this idea born?
MP VARDANYAN: We were discussing it some time ago and the conversation was revived after the recent public discourse about the Church and taxes. In the past, we discussed the import of raw paraffin under "charity" which was later re-categorized and today it's imported from EAEU. Perhaps all these discussions weren't interesting in the past while we were having it. Every citizen must pay taxes and no one should be above the law.
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will the Church be taxed?

REPORTER: Various representatives of the ruling party have lately mentioned the need to tax the Church. Is there a process to tax it?
CUSTOMS CHIEF: No. I'm not aware of any process.
REPORTER: A ruling party MP said today that they are studying the issue. Do you know anything about it?
CUSTOMS CHIEF: I'm not aware of the details. We will provide taxation statistics if they request it. No requests have been made so far.
REPORTER: Is the Church paying taxes today?
CUSTOMS CHIEF: They have some employees engaged in commercial activities so they pay income tax from their paychecks. The law grants tax exemptions to the Church for the sale of certain ceremonial products, property tax, and various other exemptions.
REPORTER: Why were they granted those exemptions?
CUSTOMS CHIEF: For various reasons. If there are activities relating to religion it can have exemptions but it's necessary to understand what's religious and non-religious.
REPORTER: Why was the taxation brought up now?
CUSTOMS CHIEF: We've been discussing changes to the tax law with the Church for several years. We discussed the law on charity. We suggested that they make payments for imports of paraffin and tserezin. We offered to cover the full cost of import duties on those items but for some reason the Church refused. [Pashinyan said earlier that they offered the Church to improve its financial transparency by having them pay taxes and receive all of the paid taxes back.]
REPORTER: Why did the Church turn down the suggestion?
CUSTOMS CHIEF: I don't know the reason.
REPORTER: The MP said they are studying thousands of properties owned by the Church and that they might prepare a resolution.
CUSTOMS CHIEF: As I said, we are ready to cooperate by providing statistics if necessary.
REPORTER: What is your personal opinion on taxing the Church?
CUSTOMS CHIEF: Things with religious purposes should not be taxed but when you sell something and collect a profit, that's something we can discuss.
REPORTER: Can you bring an example?
CUSTOMS CHIEF: No problem when the Church receives a donation, but if the Church sells an item for profit, including candles, it should be taxed.
REPORTER: Have you already studied the volume of such sales?
CUSTOMS CHIEF: No.
REPORTER: Protest leader Galstanyan said businessman Hayk Shahnazaryan's business was investigated because of supporting him. Is this policy applied in the case of other businesses as well?
CUSTOMS CHIEF: You just presented misinformation as a fact. The individual you mentioned has been at the center of customs checks since 2023 and the same violation happened again so that was the reason for the latest action as well. There is always an attempt to manipulate the enforcement actions by distorting the timing of events. Today one of the MPs said that a supermarket belongs to a ranking police official and asked "why do you not investigate them?". I published the list of investigations against that supermarket, showing ֏10 million in fines imposed on them. These manipulations are common. Everything is a conspiracy, starting from the weather.
source, source, source,

IRS chief about the 2023 budget:

• State budget revenues rose by ֏296B ($764M) or 15.4%.
• In 2023 we studied 2022's VAT/profit/income tax gap and it was 3.06% of GDP, down by 0.5% YoY.
• Tax-to-GDP ratio was 23.9%, and if we include the mortgage loan return program, that's +0.84% YoY.
• We returned ֏363B ($937M) to taxpayers. That's up by ֏100B ($258M) from the previous year.
• We built the Margara customs checkpoint [with Turkey], the EU is helping rebuild and modernize the Meghri checkpoint [with Iran], the Gogavan [Georgia] checkpoint was renovated, and Bagratashen [Georgia] is being widened.
• After the digitization reforms in the preliminary customs declaration procedures, the time for certain import procedures was reduced from 2-3 days to 2-3 hours. Businesses save time and money.
• 82 educational events were organized for businesses to help them. Around 1,030 hours of classes were held for 1,665 taxpayers.
• A survey shows the satisfaction rate for each agency: tax agency 87%, customs agency 78%.
• Several new digital platforms for residents and non-residents.
• We have successfully passed an audit for informational security and received an international ISO certification.
• We continue to improve the 49 analytical methods and the 66 risk criterions. These allow us to identify red flags.
• 31,000 inspections were carried out with the use of red flag systems, for a sum of ֏52B ($134M). That's +43% YoY.
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anti-corruption: prosecutors seek ֏20B ($51M) from former Ecology Minister Vardan Ayvazyan as part of asset forfeiture case

This includes 3 real estate properties, 2 vehicles, money-kasha, company shares, etc.
source, source,

anti-corruption: prosecutors seek to seize 23 real estate properties, 9 vehicles, and other allegedly illegally obtained assets from the former head of State Revenue Service Vardan Harutyunyan

Includes millions of dollars and a London property.
source,

other anti-corruption busts

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court acquits ex-President Serj Sargsyan on $1 million agricultural fuel embezzlement charges

Serj Sargsyan and co-defendants, including the owner of Flash fuel company, were accused of conspiring to embezzle fuel meant for farmers. The case was brought almost 5 years ago. Some of the key witnesses died of natural causes and COVID during the process, which lasted for so long that all the defendants qualified for release under the statute of limitations even if they were found guilty. The court returned a not-guilty verdict on Friday. Prosecutors will appeal it, which means the case will be heard by the recently-formed Anti-Corruption Court of Appeal.
source, source, source,

court instructs two media outlets to retract a defamatory statement against ruling party MP Hakob Arshakyan

It was regarding a story about the Engineering City in Yerevan. One of the outlets has already issued the retraction.
source,

NGO chief Daniel Ioannesian threatens to sue protest co-organizer ARF MP Garnik Danielyan for "defamation"

IOANNESIAN: ԱԺ պատգամավոր Գառնիկ Դանիելյանը հայտարարեց, թե իբր ես անցել եմ իմ ընտանիքի անդամների «նկատմամբ» կատարված ինչ-որ քրեական գործով: Գառնիկ Դանիելյանը պատասխան է տալու դատական կարգով։ Ես երբեք որևէ քրեական գործով չեմ անցել։ Երբեք որևէ քրեական գործով (կամ հետաքննությամբ) անգամ չի քննարկվել իմ կողմից՝ ընտանիքիս անդամի դեմ կատարված որևէ արարք։ //
Ioannesian accused the MP of spreading the "same fake news" that Tsarukyan's BHK allegedly spread about him in 2018.
IOANNESIAN: At least BHK was using its army of online bots to spread it to avoid legal consequences.
source,

Efes Insurance launches two health insurance products in Armenia

Cancer insurance and international health insurance. They are working with European companies.
source,

over 40 foreign diplomats visited the disaster zone in northern Armenia to learn about the flood damage and restoration efforts

Armenian Interior Ministry has officially asked the European Union to active its civil protection mechanism in order to receive assistance from the UN office to strengthen expert capabilities for more accurate assessment of the consequences

You can sign up to volunteer for cleanup. Hundreds of students and professors have joined the efforts.
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short video from Alaverdi showing the damaged railway track

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these are the main blockers of the AM-EU visa liberalization

• A comprehensive biometric passport system (on its way, procurement launched)
• A comprehensive medical insurance system (on its way in 2025)
• Certain border control procedures (on its way, possibly starting August)
• and other minor things
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the government has purchased devices to measure the strength of radio signals coming from neighboring countries so it can refer violations to the international organization tasked with distributing radio frequencies

RULING MP ARSHAKYAN: Often while traveling in border regions or even Yerevan, the car's antenna picks up radio signals from neighboring countries. This is difficult to prevent since we don't have a giant concrete-metal wall on our borders. Since we didn't have professional devices with international standards to measure the signal strength, we couldn't contact the international union to ask them to require our neighbors to reduce the power of their towers located near Armenia. This is why the Rohde & Schwarz measuring radio-monitoring devices were acquired and I'm glad they are in Armenia now. Have you measured the signals and contacted the international body?
HIGH-TECH MINISTER Hayrapetyan: The issue requires multiple steps and owning the $1.3 million equipment alone won't solve the issue. The government decided to first understand where these signals are coming from and the clarity in Armenian frequencies. We are hiring more staff in Goris station. We have not yet launched the measuring process. We are still preparing the infrastructure and qualified staff. We are competing with the private sector to attract specialists.
A lot of the problems will be addressed after the digitization of radio. The Finance Ministry agrees to allocate additional resources for this digitization in 2025-2027. //
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Armenian government resumes the broadcast of Russian television Channel One over public multiplex after the channel pays the outstanding ֏2.5M debt

That was quick. 'Channel One paid its debt in full the next day.'
source, source,

Armenian National Supercomputing Center names Armenia's new supercomputer after Charles Aznavour: VIDEO

• Supercomputer's location: Engineering City in Yerevan.
• Purpose: Research, calculations, cloud computing, machine learning, data analysis, AI, etc.
• 1 petaflops
• 10 to 15 operations per second
• 24,500 cores connected by high-speed channels
• Access to 1,500 terabytes of storage devices
• Armenia is the first among the Eastern Partnership countries where such a computer was installed
• It's a gift from Toulouse University. It was upgraded by investments from the Armenian government and World Bank.
• Made by global giant Atos.
• Nikola Aznavour: My father Charles was a big fan of technology. He began using computers in the 1980s to write lyrics and record the music.
• Ապրեք 👏
source, source, video,

Armenia will not take part in the Russian-led CSTO Defense Ministers Council meeting on Friday

The cold war continues between Armenia and Russia.
source,

U.S. is sending military advisors to the defense ministry of Armenia to make them more compatible with U.S. forces and to move them away from the Russian model: Intelligence Online

The U.S. believes the government of Armenia is "keen to exit Moscow's orbit".

The effort, carried out by a private organization, will eventually pave the way to future procurement of their reformed armies

source, [source,](tass world/1796081)

foreign ministers of U.S. and Turkey discussed the opportunities to support peace and prosperity in Transcaucasus

No details.
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