Dare dorms pennsylvania

Hello! My name is Juli! I am 19 years old and was a student at Delaware College of Art & Design. TL;DR The college closed without telling anybody or preparing anybody and now Art college students are in need of honest and up-to-date information from colleges to be able to take the next step! The reason why I am saying Art college students now instead of just DCAD students is because U Arts permanently shut down as well. Leaving, as of what I heard, over A THOUSAND students with a last minute decision to make. I was hoping I could get honest responses from students or recent Alumni about Temple! The information is going straight to Art students to help make their decision on the next step.
I am an Animation Major. I finished my first year and was going onto my second year as a fulltime student (I completed 30 credits). DCAD was a college that gave out Associate degrees for Illustration Majors, Fine Arts Majors, Game Art Majors, Photography Majors, Graphic Design Majors, and Animation Majors.
Here are the questions! If you don't feel comfortable mentioning professors by name or mentioning some things about the college and such in a public thread, we can always go into DMs so that the information will only be circulated between the students and so information about the professors can remain private for the most part! YOU DO NOT NEED TO ANSWER ALL THE QUESTIONS! Anything you are able to say can help TREMENDOUSLY to art students.
First off, when did you graduate? What did you major in?
-What is the security like? Who watches over the building? What are the building hours for students? Both the college building and the dorms.
- Who can I contact to ask more about your major's program? Who was the head of your major and what can you say about them (good and bad)?
-How is the inclusivity in the college?
-How are the dorms? Are they well-kept? Are they small? How are the amenities? Any downsides? Do they have windows? Did you face any issues while you were there? What was a big upside to the dorms?
-How is the financial aid? How easy is it to get financial aid? How many of the students end up having college debt after graduating? Were you one of the students with debt? Would you might sharing any experience you have on that (being in debt to the college/avoiding debt with the college)?
-What's the surrounding area like? Are there shops nearby for students? Is the area safe to just go on walks and hang out nearby?
-What are some of the clubs the college offers?
-What do you as a current/recent former student enjoy most about the college?
-What do you as a student, if you are being entirely honest, might be the biggest setback within the college?
-Are you guys animal friendly or have any sort of animal therapy?
-Is there any therapy in general that is available within the college?
-What are the professors like? (I understand it can be a hit or miss depending on the professor and student, but your experience is still very important)
-How easy was it to get your transcript/degree?
-Is administration easy to get along with or can they be difficult sometimes depending on the day? Do you know who the financial advisor is/can you talk about them and that process? How was it getting your schedule and such? did you struggle with credits? Did you struggle with transferring anything?
-Did you need to pay for printer paper or anything like that? How was the equipment and software at the college?
Again, you can answer with whatever you know.
Here are articles about DCAD & U Arts shutting down.
https://www.inquirer.com/education/uarts-abruptly-closing-june-loss-accreditation-20240531.html https://www.cbsnews.com/philadelphia/news/pennsylvania-academy-fine-arts-philadelphia-ending-college/
https://delawarebusinesstimes.com/news/dcad-to-close-in-upcoming-weeks/ https://technical.ly/workforce-development/dcad-closure-student-impact-community-support/

Nicholas Mattison bumped his shoulder as he stretched his arms over his head, pulled back the soft pink curtain that draped over his bed like a canopy, and rubbed the sleep out of his green eyes as his bare feet met the plush carpeting of his bedroom.
If Nicholas was any more alert than his still-sleepy, bedheaded current self, he might have astutely recognized that the bed was a little too small for his lanky frame, or recalled that the bed in his freshman dorm definitely didn't have lacy, rose-hued canopy curtains.
The unlikely array of unfamiliar accoutrements in Nicholas' room only properly crystallized once he squinted and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, glancing around a space that resolutely wasn't his. Gone were the haphazard textbooks splayed across his desk, the guitar that had been propped against the mirror hanging on his closet door, and the laundry basket he promised himself he'd get to on Saturday morning, first thing.
Instead, Nicholas' field of view was met with walls painted a garish shade of bubblegum pink, a neat row of posters advertising pop stars he'd never heard of before, and an ornate door with a sign that read "Nick's Room" in bubble-letter script.
With a surge of panic, he pulled open the closet door, biting his lower lip with a brow-furrowing frown when he saw a walk-in selection of elegant ball gowns and starchy-frilled ballerina tutus.
Where WAS he?
**
Hello! Thanks for reading a silly prompt. I wanted to leave it mysterious so we can fill in some blanks together, but the gist of the prompt is this: Our protagonist discovers that, one way or another, he's found himself living in (read: trapped) a dollhouse. Like the post's title says, a daring escape ensues!
And that brings us to your character: Who is she? A fellow college student who found herself plucked from her normal life and brought to the dollhouse? Is she a brought-to-life doll who already lives there? Is she the supervillainess/mad scientist/crazy gal who owns the dollhouse and is gleeful to have a new plaything in Nicholas? It's your call!
If you're interested, please send a message my way! I ask that you be at least 20 as well, with a knack for descriptive, detailed posts that are at least 200 words or so long. (I break Discord's character limit like it's my job, so there's no shame there!) Let me know what you think of the idea, any concepts you might have, and who you may write as a character opposite Nicholas. See you in the dollhouse soon!

The prevailing idea that the second amendment codifies an individual right of American citizens to own firearms is simply incorrect, and an unfortunate interpretation by the Supreme Court. The second amendment is primarily -- if not entirely -- about the right of the people to serve militia duty. The Bill of Rights was technically never meant to be an official enumeration of the rights of Americans, but rather was meant to place further restrictions upon the power of the federal government, in order to oppose the potential for abuse of the Constitution and to appease the concerns of Antifederalist politicians. Hence, the Bill of Rights and all the amendments within it must be viewed with that purpose in mind.
The second amendment was written primarily as a means of resolving a concern about the militia clauses of the Constitution, namely Article 1, Section 8, Clauses 15 and 16:

[The Congress shall have Power] To provide for calling forth the Militia to execute the Laws of the Union, suppress Insurrections and repel Invasions;
To provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining, the Militia, and for governing such Part of them as may be employed in the Service of the United States, reserving to the States respectively, the Appointment of the Officers, and the Authority of training the Militia according to the discipline prescribed by Congress;

Some politicians were concerned that this declaration transferred exclusive power to Congress, and left the state governments with no power to organize, arm, or govern their own militias. Some believed that there were not enough stipulations in the Constitution that prevented Congress from neglecting its stipulated responsibilities to the militia or from imposing an oppressive amount of discipline upon the militia, which might serve the purpose of effectively destroying the militia as a pretext to establish a standing army in its place. As it happens, many statesmen saw a standing army as a danger to liberty, and wished to avoid the need for raising an army, and to do so by means of using the militia in its place.
This sentiment is perhaps most articulately expressed by George Mason in the following excerpt from a debate in the Virginia Ratifying Convention on June 14, 1788:

No man has a greater regard for the military gentlemen than I have. I admire their intrepidity, perseverance, and valor. But when once a standing army is established in any country, the people lose their liberty. When, against a regular and disciplined army, yeomanry are the only defence,--yeomanry, unskilful and unarmed,--what chance is there for preserving freedom? Give me leave to recur to the page of history, to warn you of your present danger. Recollect the history of most nations of the world. What havoc, desolation, and destruction, have been perpetrated by standing armies! An instance within the memory of some of this house will show us how our militia may be destroyed. Forty years ago, when the resolution of enslaving America was formed in Great Britain, the British Parliament was advised by an artful man, who was governor of Pennsylvania, to disarm the people; that it was the best and most effectual way to enslave them; but that they should not do it openly, but weaken them, and let them sink gradually, by totally disusing and neglecting the militia. [Here Mr. Mason quoted sundry passages to this effect.] This was a most iniquitous project. Why should we not provide against the danger of having our militia, our real and natural strength, destroyed? The general government ought, at the same time, to have some such power. But we need not give them power to abolish our militia. If they neglect to arm them, and prescribe proper discipline, they will be of no use. I am not acquainted with the military profession. I beg to be excused for any errors I may commit with respect to it. But I stand on the general principles of freedom, whereon I dare to meet any one. I wish that, in case the general government should neglect to arm and discipline the militia, there should be an express declaration that the state governments might arm and discipline them. With this single exception, I would agree to this part, as I am conscious the government ought to have the power.

As a resolution to these concerns about the distribution of power over the militia between federal and state government, the second amendment was written. There were multiple different drafts by various statesmen and government bodies leading up to its final form as we possess it today. Many versions of the amendment were significantly longer, and often included clauses that affirmed the dangers of maintaining a standing army, and stipulated that citizens with conscientious scruples against participating in military combat would not be compelled to serve militia duty.
One proposed draft by Roger Sherman, dated July 21, 1789, uses much different wording from that commonly used by its peers:

The Militia shall be under the government of the laws of the respective States, when not in the actual Service of the united States, but Such rules as may be prescribed by Congress for their uniform organisation & discipline shall be observed in officering and training them. but military Service Shall not be required of persons religiously Scrupulous of bearing arms.

In this proposal, we can see the important distinction being made between Congress' power over the regulation (i.e. "uniform organisation & discipline") of the militia, and the power of the respective state governments to regulate their own militias where congressional authority no longer applied.
Sherman's proposal can be compared to an earlier proposal by James Madison, using more familiar verbiage, written on June 8, 1789:

The right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed; a well armed, and well regulated militia being the best security of a free country: but no person religiously scrupulous of bearing arms, shall be compelled to render military service in person.

You may notice the similar sequence between Sherman's proposal and Madison's: they both begin with a clause that effectively protects the autonomy of the state militias, then a clause that affirms the importance of the federal government's regulation of the militia, then end with a clause protecting conscientious objectors. Both proposals effectively say the same things, but using different verbiage. This textual comparison provides a certain alternative perspective on the second amendment’s wording which helps to clarify the intent behind the amendment.
After multiple revisions, the amendment ultimately was reduced to two clauses, making two distinct assertions: first, it presented an affirmation by the federal government that a well-regulated militia was necessary to the security and freedom of the individual states, and affirmed the duty of Congress to uphold such regulation.
This interpretation of the amendment's "militia clause" can be corroborated by the following comment by Elbridge Gerry during an August 17, 1789 debate in the House of Representatives regarding the composition of the second amendment:

Mr. Gerry objected to the first part of the clause, on account of the uncertainty with which it is expressed. A well regulated militia being the best security of a free State, admitted an idea that a standing army was a secondary one. It ought to read, "a well regulated militia, trained to arms;" in which case it would become the duty of the Government to provide this security, and furnish a greater certainty of its being done.

Gerry believed that the phrasing "being the best security of a free state" could potentially cause the amendment to be construed to mean that a standing army ought to be viewed officially as a secondary security behind a well-regulated militia. Presumably, this could potentially create the danger of Congress deliberately neglecting the training of the militia as a pretext to rendering it inadequate and thus justifiably resorting to this "secondary security". (This was exactly George Mason’s fear, as conveyed during the Virginia Ratifying Convention, quoted earlier.) Gerry believed that the addition of the phrase "trained to arms" into the militia clause would have the effect of exerting a duty upon the government to actively preserve the militia through the maintenance of such training.
Gerry's comment is illuminating because it demonstrates that the militia clause was originally viewed as more than a mere preamble to the "arms clause", but rather that it was an independent assertion in its own right. The clause itself did not stipulate the power of Congress to regulate the militia, as that had already been achieved in the militia clauses of the Constitution; rather it was a reaffirmation by Congress regarding that regulation, in accordance with one of the explicit objectives of the Bill of Rights to build confidence in the federal government, as stated in the Bill of Rights' original preamble:

The Conventions of a number of the States, having at the time of their adopting the Constitution, expressed a desire, in order to prevent misconstruction or abuse of its powers, that further declaratory and restrictive clauses should be added: And as extending the ground of public confidence in the Government, will best ensure the beneficent ends of its institution.

Another piece of evidence to corroborate this interpretation of the militia clause is to note the basis from which the clause derives its verbiage. The militia clause borrows its language from Section 13 of the Virginia Declaration of Rights, an influential founding document written in 1776. Section 13 goes as follows:

That a well-regulated militia, composed of the body of the people, trained to arms, is the proper, natural, and safe defense of a free state; that standing armies, in time of peace, should be avoided as dangerous to liberty; and that in all cases the military should be under strict subordination to, and governed by, the civil power.

The second amendment’s militia clause is essentially an adapted version of the first clause of the above article. It is important to note that the purpose of the Virginia Declaration of Rights as a whole, and all of the articles within it, was to establish the basic principles and duties of government, more so than to stipulate specific regulations of government. This likewise holds true with the second amendment’s militia clause; rather than being only a preamble to its following clause, the militia clause stands as a distinct declaration of governmental principle and duty, just as its predecessor does in the Virginia Declaration of Rights.
Earlier drafts of the militia clause also frequently borrowed phrases from the first clause of the above article, especially the phrases “composed of the body of the people”, and “trained to arms”, which Elbridge Gerry had once proposed adding into the amendment. Furthermore, many of the earlier drafts of the second amendment as a whole would borrow and include the remaining two clauses of the above article which addressed the dangers of standing armies. One example of this is a relatively late draft of the amendment proposed in the Senate on September 4, 1789:

A well regulated militia, composed of the body of the People, being the best security of a free State, the right of the People to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed, but no one religiously scrupulous of bearing arms, shall be compelled to render military service in person. That standing armies, in time of peace, being dangerous to Liberty, should be avoided as far as the circumstances and protection of the community will admit; and that in all cases the military should be under strict subordination to, and governed by the civil Power. That no standing army or regular troops shall be raised in time of peace, without the consent of two thirds of the Members present in both Houses, and that no soldier shall be inlisted for any longer term than the continuance of the war.

As you can see, the second and third clauses from Section 13 of the Virginia Declaration are included in this draft virtually verbatim. And, clearly, these “standing armies” clauses are by no means a preamble to anything else, nor do they provide a reason or justification to anything else, as has been argued about the militia clause. It only stands to reason that, considering that the militia clause and the two standing armies clauses originate from the Virginia Declaration of Rights, that all three of these clauses would likely retain the fundamental meaning and function in the second amendment that they possessed in their source document.
The second amendment’s multiple connections to Section 13 of the Virginia Declaration of Rights indicate that the intent of the amendment was not only to protect particular rights of the people, but that the original intent was very much also to declare governmental duty in the spirit of the Virginia Declaration. Furthermore, these connections speak to the fact that the focus of the second amendment was very much upon the militia; if not entirely, then at least as much as it was focused on private gun use. This is indisputable, given that Section 13 of the Virginia Declaration is entirely concerned with the militia, and never so much as hints at the subject of private gun use.
Second, the amendment prohibited Congress from infringing upon the American people's right to keep arms and bear arms. As for this second part, the right to keep arms and bear arms was not granted by the second amendment itself, but rather the granting of such rights was within the jurisdiction of state constitutional law. States would traditionally contain an arms provision in their constitutions which stipulated the details of the people's right to keep and bear arms within the state. Every state arms provision stipulated the keeping and bearing of arms for the purpose of militia duty (i.e. the common defense), and many additionally stipulated the purpose of self defense.
As for the terminology involved, to "keep arms" essentially meant "to have arms in one's keeping (or in one's custody)", not necessarily to own them; and to "bear arms" meant "to engage in armed combat, or to serve as a soldier", depending on the context. Hence, the second amendment as a whole addressed the concerns of the Antifederalists in regards to the militia, by categorically prohibiting Congress from infringing in any way upon the people's ability to serve militia duty or to equip themselves with the tools necessary to serve militia duty. The amendment's prohibition is general, and does not specifically address private gun use by citizens, as whether a given citizen had the right to private gun use (such as for self-defense), and to what extent the citizen had the right, was subject to vary state to state. The amendment simply prohibits any congressional infringement whatsoever upon the right to keep arms and bear arms.
Given the historical discussions surrounding the second amendment, its drafting history, its textual derivations, and the wording of its opening clause, it is only reasonable to interpret that the primary function of the amendment is to protect the institution of militia duty, not to protect civilian gun use.
As further evidence, here (https://press-pubs.uchicago.edu/founders/documents/amendIIs6.html) is a link to a historical debate in the House of Representatives in which politicians argued over the composition of the second amendment. Notably, you will notice that the entire House debate centers around militia duty, and not a word whatsoever is spoken in regards to private gun use. (And the limited information we have about the Senate debates on the second amendment likewise say nothing about private gun use.)
In addition, here (https://constitutioncenter.org/rights/writing.php?a=2) is a useful resource from the National Constitution Center, which gives an easy-to-understand visual representation of the various precursors, proposals, and drafts which led up to the eventual creation of each of the amendments in the Bill of Rights. The drafting history of the second amendment is quite helpful in understanding its historical context and underlying purpose.

I have two characters that aren't majorly important to the current Arc in the story, however they are future important characters and are currently dealing with important to the future matters. So I wrote a chapter that breaks away from the current main characters and story to flesh out a bit of I guess world building and character development for the future. These two characters are Amelia the prophet, and Griax the Bishop of Chaos.
This was more recently written and slotted into the story where I felt like it made the most sense. Guess I'm looking for impressions.
Here's a little warning, I tend to write direct character thoughts in the first person perspective as well as conversations that take place mentally whether it be telepathically or between two entities that share a body by using italics. However you cannot put italics in a Reddit post. That may make this a little weird to read at times, I Apologize.
~
The moon hung low tonight, it seemed to creep along the treetops. What was it hiding from, as it crept steadily closer. Ahead of its gaze, peering between the shadowy branches, a cave yawned. The endless darkness visible beyond its drowsy maw. It was quiet here, like the animals in the surroundings avoided it almost instinctively.
Snap
A cracking sound split the night and an owl fluttered its wings in response, a loud hooting as it seemed to reprimand someone for breaking this sacred silence. But the being who made such a sound gave no heed, no he didn't care for the thoughts of some bird in the trees above as he trudged through the forest without a care.
A man stepped into view, the forest gave way to him, and as it seemed to lean back the moon leaned forward and washed the stranger in its gaze.
“This is right, I believe. Hmmm” he seemed to be trying to recall something. “Really, why does your kind have to hide? How can I make my perfect hero story if my epic villain is hiding in some dingy cave.” He emphasized his point while gesturing at the sleepy cavern before him. “What? Too good for me Anastasia? Ah wait. . . Am I forgetting something again. . . Are you dead?” He sighed in annoyance as his thoughts tumbled from his lips. He then began his unconcerned trek once more, disappearing into the cave.
Inside it was pitch black, though it didn't matter for this man as he could see in the dark. The cave itself wasn't that deep so soon he came to the end. He sighed again as he placed his hand on the wall.
“Really Ana, this is just terrible parenting don't you think. But I do have to hand it to you. I think you might have been the only one among your species who realized they were willingly walking towards a slaughter. To hide your daughter like this. Even the God of chaos might feel a little sentimental.” The man lifted his hand and a bright hot flame filled it, green in color, he began to melt through the rock.
“I remember now, ha of course I was the one to cut your head off dear. Anastasia, I remember that night I gave you a choice. I remember what you chose and I remember the look on your eyes when I cut your head off. Don't worry I'll make sure your daughter is remembered forever as the evil dragon who was slain by the hero. Haha!” He started laughing and couldn't seem to stop as the rock turned molten and melted down the light cast flickering shadows in the cave revealed on the other side. Among those flickerings reflections came back revealing beautiful red scales. Massive wings and horns. A beast sleeping soundly in its home. Not many knew this but dragons often hibernated for decades, when Anastasia left, her daughter had started her first hibernation and it would soon be time for her to wake up. No longer hidden, her lair could now be stumbled upon.
~
Amelia sighed as she started up the stairs, up ahead, was a building rising up like it wanted to touch heaven itself. This building had an unusual architecture, it was white and green with golden accents. The exterior was a large square with massive ornamental pillars. Four large staircases with multiple flights led up towards a smaller square building at the center. A statue of Lady Gia could be seen, a scale in one hand and a watering can in the other. Cultivated plants grew up the pillars with beautiful flowers on display.
Amelia was used to this climb and soon reached the top, she approached the smaller building which was now revealed to be a shrine built around the Statue. There were a decent amount of people praying and giving offerings. Many bowed to her as she passed, she also bowed in return, she felt nervous most of this was new to her. Her current position was obtained only recently.
Amelia stepped behind the statue towards a large circular platform made of gold, as she stepped into it. Her mana seeped out and into the platform, it began to glow, she let it inspect her mana and then it offered control to her. After feeling the offer she pushed her mana through the platform and it began to rise.
Why must we use such contraptions, as my host you can fly can you not? A voice spoke inside her head.
Of course, but you know this Asmo, we have to follow the rules. And at the very least I want to do my job well and not be looked at as incompetent or a waste. Amelia responded thoughtfully.
Ha, you my dear contracted a great and powerful bishop, there's no way you could be incompetent. However I see your line of logic. Tsk, we have a meeting with that damn old man today right?
Please don't refer to the Pope like that, it's disrespectful!
Ha me respect that geezer, who do you think I am?
Sorry you're right. It's just shocking to hear that from anyone.
Hmm, well I'll leave you to it, call if you need me. And remember, at any point my offer still stands.
I . . . Don't think I'll need your help and. . . About that offer. . . Um, I kinda wanna stay human please.
Hmph, fine. We're almost there, focus. If you arrive looking spaced out, what will they think?
Oh yeah!
Amelia slapped her cheeks with both hands and put on a smile as the golden platform breached the clouds and approached a floating circular platform, there was a massive golden magic circle pulsating underneath the building. The golden platform clicked into place, she was in a gazebo surrounded by a field of flowers broken up by a pond with fish swimming in it. This field didn't extend the entire length of the platform. Surrounding the garden all looking inwards was a collection of buildings. Directly ahead was a temple dedicated to worship and scriptures. To her left was a collection of dorms, when a young girl became a nun they would be swept away, above the clouds and live there. I used to live there, she thought. To her right was another collection of dorms, this housed holy Knights and Paladins. Directly behind was a tower, it was an odd looking thing. It was made of white stone and shaped like a spike, getting smaller as it rose upwards. However at the top there was a glass sphere with a swirl of multicolored magic. A balcony circled beneath the sphere and a living quarters could barely be seen, my home, the Prophet's Tower. In combination with the prophets natural connection to the gods and the height of this tower that reached higher than any other point in this world. A prophet like her could hear The whispers of the gods while living at the top. The glass sphere held pure mana from each of the four core elements, apparently according to the stories told by the Pope the mana residing inside the sphere had been obtained from the world tree. However this claim was dubious at best to most do the fact that no one even knew if the world tree was a real thing, as far as anyone was aware no one had seen it and it's current location was unknown.
She didn't head towards the tower, no she turned towards the temple, she could already hear a commotion inside. Besides this is where she had been summoned to and the reason why she had returned from her meeting with the king of the Kozak Empire.
“Are you aware of what your words imply?” an older man stated while standing at the front a podium was in front of him and an altar sat behind. The altar was made of white but a deep red could be seen hiding in the cracks, blood that couldn't be cleaned. Even further behind, there was a circular pool of water that seemed to glow and sparkle.
“Sir, I apologize for my impudence however it must be stated, that girl is tainted! A demon put its claws in her heart.” Another man was speaking urgently to the Pope, he was an Archbishop.
“Yes and we exorcized that demon, that child bled for her faith and you still wish to doubt her!” the Pope spoke again, though his eyes then noticed the newcomer. “Why don't you ask the girl in question?” The Archbishop turned with wide eyes as he saw Amelia approaching.
“Sir should I strip down and lay on the altar for your wip once more?” She asked, a calm confidence filled her, the Archbishop flinched at her provocation. According to what he'd heard, her exorcism was one of the most brutal ever carried out. The demon inside her was just that strong, the Pope had to deal with it personally.
“See, how dare you fault that devotion.” The Pope frowned at his Bishop, then he hurried the man away as he greeted Amelia happily.
He's right though, you've been corrupted by a demon.
Asmo isn't it more accurate to say I have corrupted a demon.
Tsk, don't get full of yourself girl. Remember the Pope doesn't care about you, he's just arrogant and considered suspicion against you to be practically saying they believe there could be a demon who resisted an exorcism by the Pope himself. It hurts his pride.
But that's what you did, though, you weren't very graceful.
I admitted defeat in the moment before my death, my only path to life was to form a contract so I simply did whatever it took.
Yeah, sure.
“Amelia my dear, welcome I asked you to come cause I need a divination.” He spoke happily as he led her to the altar. She followed and undressed, soon enough she was laying on the altar her eyes gazed at the paintings on the temple ceiling. The Pope laid a cross shaped white cloth over her body covering her intimate parts. She could smell the scent of incense and candles as the Pope began setting up the ritual.
Why does this geezer have to make it a big show? I can just check his future, I'm the Bishop of Prophecy afterall.
This is the normal ceremony for a divination, we can't let him know I'm abnormal.
The Pope walked over to the pool and lowered a golden bowl into it, he filled it and walked over to her once more, he began to sprinkle the water across her body.
Ah, dumb geezer that fucking hurts
It's holy water, what do you expect?
After he finished he got down on his knees and clasped his hands, “Dear heavenly goddess of life, tell us what our future holds, as children to the great giver, we ask that you gift us an inkling of wisdom.” As he spoke Amelia opened her eyes wide and gazed up, light filled her eyes as a collection of glyphs created a halo around her head. Her vision seemed to shift till it felt like she was now viewing the ceiling above through a pane of glass. The ceiling began to shimmer like water was running over the pane of glass before a white light blasted outwards and the ceiling shattered like a piece of glass as the void enveloped her.
I don't think I'll ever get used to what it feels like to view a vision of the future.
I'm sure you'll get used to it eventually, though I was born with this ability, it's never felt odd to me.
Her first vision was filled with carnage, she watched as the church’s paladins fought with soldiers of the Empire. This vision was from the battlefield, she was viewing it through the eyes of someone. She looked around trying to figure out who she was, she raised her sword and recognized it. The holy sword, wait, in the original timeline he wouldn't be here. . . Her vision tilted
“Ha, this is absurd, they'd have my head if they knew what we were doing.” A voice reached her ears, she turned to look at the old man in a crown. There was a look of sarcasm and disbelief, she lifted her hand to shake his as they signed a deal. She was taken aback as she saw the blood drenched sleeve, she glanced around till a mirror appeared in her view and almost gasped, that's not a human, she thought as she looked at the horns and the eyes. Once again her vision tilted.
This time, it was really quiet, Amelia found herself standing in a city she soon recognized. She frowned as she looked around the city named Aguris. It was decimated, there were no signs of life. Amelia began walking around, but no matter how much she walked and searched there was no evidence to explain what happened. As she was walking around her vision shimmered and a throne appeared in front of her, to her left and right she saw bishops bowing to her. Amelia stepped up and sat down on the throne, as she settled a chorus of voices rung out.
“We celebrate the crowning of the rightful Pope!” As she heard those voices the faces in front of her swam like a reflection on the water disturbed by a thrown rock. As it settled she could see the ceiling of the temple once more, all the candles had been blown out.
“What did you see my prophet?” The Pope asked, Amelia sat up with an arm covering her chest. A smile rose to her lips.
“I saw a beautiful future, I saw a prosperous church and many more years of your wonderful reign. I saw that we will manage to connect the God beast's markings to the beast races. Using that we shall push them back into slavery and once again Gia’s races shall stand rightfully above Loki’s” she spoke with elation, like what she spoke of was a beautiful future.
What a beautiful lier, you even made a demon like me blush.
Shut it, this is necessary for the greater good.
Whatever.
“That's wonderful, thank you so much, you've put this old worried soul to rest.” The Pope seemed truly relieved as he got up and helped her dress, afterwards he sent her on her way. Amelia sighed as she stepped out into the sun. No clouds dared to rise this high, there was nothing but a wide expanse of blue broken only by the blazing sun.
Amelia crossed the courtyard towards her tower, there was a door at the base, she pushed it open eagerly. Closing it behind her and leaning against it with a sigh.
“It's so stressful to act so professional all the time.” Amelia exclaimed as she looked forward, she was standing in a library that wrapped the circumference of the tower’s base. She stepped forward the floor was stainless steel, polished till it was practically a mirror. As she looked down she could see the demon Asmodeus standing beside her, a smile on her face. Asmodeus claimed to be the Bishop of Prophecy when she'd first shown up but that was another story.
You did well though, geez I can't believe I'm helping you in this. I'm directly going against my brethren for this you know.
“Yeah, I know. I hope you'll forgive my selfishness. I believe through meeting you that not all demons are evil.”
Ha, I'm a charming individual
“Of course, but you're not evil.”
Tsk, don't you have studying to do
“Ooh! I forgot, Asmo, can you be my teacher again? I learn so easily from you!” Amelia dashed into the center of the library where a familiar golden platform sat. She pushed mana into the platform and it began to rise.
Click
Amelia stepped off the platform into her bedroom, then she rushed over to her desk where a book was open and a notebook with messy writing sat beside it. She plopped down, looking straight ahead she could look out a window down on the garden below. Though in that window’s reflection she could see Asmodeus, the demon. And she smiled at her mental companion.
Sure, I'll tutor you, let's pick up where we left off, yes?
“Please.” Amelia responded as the sound of flipping pages filled the room, one voice could be heard seemingly having one sided conversations. Deep into the night candles burned as bright as the ambition of a young nun who's desperate desire to be of more use to her God attracted a curious demon. That young nun accepted the demon in when she was tricked into believing in angels. And that same nun endured horrible torture before forcing the demon to submit, her ambition and desires only burning brighter as the ability of Prophecy was placed in her grasps. She could finally see her dream, holding hands with the enemy she would finally be able to cross the finish line. As she became a Prophet for the church her position was raised from a mere nun to a special position only touchable by the Pope.

This post is a bit long so please bear with me. Also English is not my first language.
I (23f) was 18 when this happened. Growing up had a somewhat sheltered life, which is why I trusted people easily. I am an Indian who spent all my life in the Middle East and I moved back to India to pursue my higher studies. This was the first time I was on my own away from my parents. Even though I am Indian, the years I lived abroad made me feel alien to the local culture, which is why I imprinted on the first person who was nice to me, my roomate.
I also shared most of my classes with this girl so we spent a lot of time together. Back then she seemed like a nice person and my naive personality blindly trusted her. For the sake of this post let's name her Sam.
Now Sam had her own sob story of how she never had friends and how her grandmother (who lived with her) was abusive all through childhood just because she's a girl child. This broke my heart and we quickly became best friends. A month into college she started to complain that guys from our class where misbehaving around her. Now the guys she mentioned spoke Hindi, which I did not understand very well back then. So I had no idea what these guys were actually talking about. Thus i became extremely protective of Sam without knowing the entirety of the story. Everyday she would come back crying after classes, because one of the boys (name him Ben) began stalking her would not take no for and answer. At this point of time, she and "Mary", another girl from my batch were my only friends. Mary who also did not know the language believed in Sam and suggested spreading the word among our classmates about his behaviour (which included him stalking and spamming her phone). Mary asked Sam if she was absolutely sure about this since we were talking about ruining someone's reputation through his entire college life.
Now here is the first red flag. She made it seem that this guy was insufferable and begged Mary to do something. But she never told anyone else that she was uncomfortable around Ben. So Mary talked about Ben's behaviour among the people she knew (yes we should have dug into the matter before doing that). Later that day we saw Sam and Ben huddled up together, listening to love songs. People were mad at Mary for making up fake rumours. Two years later, I came to know about the truth from Ben, SAM was the one who was interested in him. And they dated for two weeks before she abruptly dumped him, which resulted in him spamming her phone. She basically got us to clean her mess for free.
That was just the tip of the iceberg regarding the things she's done. This is the part where my life was getting affected. Even though Sam told us she had no friends, she had an online pen pal who was a boy our age. Sam seemed genuinely excited to talk to this guy and would always dream of meeting him in real life. It started getting irritating when they started video calling each other, every minute of their free time. Our dorm only had space for 2 beds and a cupboard, so there was always a lack of privacy. I couldn't sleep at night since they would video call all night and Sam insisted on keeping the lights on as he (Call him Ron) wants to "see her face" although his camera is off. So I ended up getting an eye mask. The real headache began when Ron started asking me about my personal life. Sam wanted me and Ron to get along, even though I was not interested. She felt that we will be "close" if Ron knew more about my personal life. Every single detail that Sam knows about me, Ron knows it as well. I always felt uncomfortable with this guy and Sam won't stop sharing about my personal life with him, even though I strictly asked her not too.
A few months later, Ron announced that he wants to visit Sam. This was right after the second wave of COVID, and we were just moving back to regular classes. Sam missed classes for a week to hang out with Rom, which ended up with me covering her lessons since I was a pushover who cared too much about her grades. Sam comes back a week later, with a bunch of hickeys on her neck, still claiming they were "just friends" and nothing happened. I did not care since honesty it was none of my business. The video calls continued much to my annoyance.
Sam wanted me and Mary to meet Ron and pretty much harrased us into agreeing. What we did not know was that Ron brought two other guys and wanted Sam to call us "to keep them occupied", while they enjoyed their 'friendship date'. This was the most awkward thing I had done in my life. Sam was all over Ron, while me and Mary tried to have our dinner, with two random guys staring at us all through the dinner. It was only a long time later that I found out that one of the guys was interested in me, and Sam texted him behind my back for months pretending to be me, hoping we would end up together although I was not interested in dating.
Still reading? We haven't reached the worst part yet.
One morning as I was changing in my room, I found Sam sleeping with her phone on. She was on a video call with Ron (again with his camera off). HE SAW ME UNDRESS. Sam shrugged it off, saying he was asleep on the other side as well. Two days later that I came to know that Ron was an active member in an online locker room chat, which circulated sexual materials. The worst part of this experience was the fact that Sam somehow always dismissed me telling I was irrational. She carelessly did something horrible and yet was able to make me feel like I was in the worng. I never had the courage to confront Ron. She was able to make a fool out of me.
Anytime I was I voiced my issues with her, she would stop eating, become sick/depressed and act suicidal and cry. A LOT. To the point I couldn't concentrate on my work and I ended up taking care of her. She pretended that I was extremely important to her and if I was gone, she would have no friends. I tried to move out twice but wasn't able to so for the very same reason in spite of her not remotely being apologetic, as I freaked out thinking she would actually harm herself.
I physically removed myself whenever Ron was mentioned. Sam now had frequent fights with Ron, which ment less peace and quite for me. Around that time, Sam widened her friend group and they all seemed nice. And I began to hear less and less of Ron and I was really happy about this. But turns out the guy's a psyco. He now started video calling me day and night, since Sam wouldn't pick his calls. I finally had to block him. He also called Mary (whom he only met one time in that dinner date) in the middle of the night saying that he is so lost and heartbroken that Sam broke things off with him. We did not dwell into that, since we were glad that Sam herself cut him off of our lives.
Coming back to the new friends, I enjoyed hanging out with them. However Sam made sure I was never comfortable in that group. She announced to the entire group that I had a crush on a guy from our class, which I told her and Mary in secret. So now the groups favourite pastime was to tease me about him as I did not want to confess. They made it so awkward for us to the point i actually had to confess. Although he rejected me, we became real good friends and he introduced me to his gang, which visibility upset Sam. She tried talking me out of hanging out with them, but I stood firm since for the first time in my college life, I was at peace.
I also became more outgoing on my own and started spending less time with Sam. As soon as this happend, I noticed that some of Sam's friends were now rude to me. They were passive-agressive about anything I say, but I did not care much of it. One fine morning I was having a chat with one of Sam's friends and he mentioned, that Sam was moving out that day. SHE DIDN'T EVEN BOTHER TELLING ME. I was so confused as to why she did that since I didn't know her true colours in spite of all those red flags :(
After she moved out, the same friend confessed that Sam did not like me. Apparently every night, after I fell asleep, Sam would group call them, just to trash talk about me. Remember, the grandmother's abuse story? Turns out she becomes friends with someone new by telling them that someone "abused" her. She told them that I drank heavily (I have never had alcohol in my life) every day and she has to clean up after me. She ever had the audacity to tell them that I stole her assignments and forced her to shut up about it, which is why I always got straight A's and she barely passed. The truth was that she used to send my assignments to them without my consent. (I got into trouble for this and almost failed a paper) Worst of all, she said that I was 'easy' and would hook up with any guy who would ask. That was the last straw. I am a virgin and am still waiting for the right guy and the right time. She knew this and still dared to make up horrible stories about me.
I was was baffled that these guys straight up believed all this without any doubt. I didn't bother clearing the misunderstanding at that time. I just wanted to get away from her and this mess. And that's exactly what I did. I cut all my contacts with her and everyone in that group. After crying my eyes out, I moved out, got back on track with my studies and made beautiful memories with some real friends for the remainder of my college life. I didn't bother mentioning anything to anyone except Mary, nor did I ever confront Sam. I knew she would somehow turn the tables against me and make me a villain again. She had that effect on people.
Now to anyone asking why she would do this, I believe she craves attention and became a compulsive liar in the process. I forgot to mention that immediately after the friend group was formed, Sam started dating one of the guys in the group. She told him that he was her first boyfriend. I knew about Ben and Ron and a few of her high school adventures. So she probably did not want me to spill the beans and so painted me as an unreliable person.
A year after I cut her off, all the people from her friend group came to me one by one, saying they wanted to hear my side of the story. I just told them nothing. I did not want their pity or validation. Turns out she used the same strategy with them, spreading fake rumours about each other. She made sure that her boyfriend does not talk to anyone in the group but her, which annoyed them. When they finally tried to confront her, she admitted herself in a hospital and told them that she has CANCER. I am skeptical about this but if there is a slight possibility that it is true, I hope she would recover. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely despise her but I am not evil enough to wish her death. Also if she is actually has cancer, she would guilt trip more people into dancing to her tunes.
As they say what goes around comes around. By the time we graduated, almost everyone knew her true colours and barely tolerated her to avoid drama. She was never invited to any group events. People actually dropped conversations as soon as she tried to join in! So that's it. Three years of hell condensed to 6000 words. I still feel ashamed of myself that I was not able to get out that situation. I just wanted to get this off my chest and start afresh. The only form of revenge I could think of is posting it here.

a little story me ans my friend wrote pls give ur opinion on it (gore and bullying)
THE START OF THE STORY
“AT HOME/BUSSTOP”
Mom: Jeshlynn! You’re going to be late for school. Jeshlynn: I’m coming mom! God damn I’m going to be late for the bus, sorry mom I'll have to skip breakfast see you in the weekends! ‘’As jeshlynn runs to the bus stop she bumps into a guy’. Jeshlynn: I ‘am so sorry I was getting late for my bus to school ‘’said jeshlynn’’. Dash: Oh well me to haha, I am Dash nice to meet you I assume you’re a royal high student? Jeshlynn: Yes, how did you know!? Dash: Well, it's pretty obvious with that outfit, well let’s run before we miss our bus. Jeshlynn: Haha yeah, let’s go!
“ON THE BUS”
Popular girls: Haha look! Dash has a pink bag; pink is for girls! Dash: Colors don’t have gender what do you mean? Popular girls: only gay people say that!! Are u gay or what? “They pull the bag off him and spit on it”. Jeshlynn: who do u think you are?!? “Pulls hairs (weave snatched)” Jeshlynn: SHES BALD, SHES BALD AND SHES TORTURING PPL WHO HAVE HAIR! “Everyone laughs at the popular girls”. Popular girls: “cries and covers their heads” DONT LOOK AT US! “More crying noises”. Dash: thank you so much. Uh what’s ur name again...? Jeshlynn: you’re welcome and its jeshlynn
“THEY ARRIVE AT SCHOOL”
Dash: well damn here we go, first day of hell i am NOT ready for this. Jeshlynn: girl same I absolutely HATE uniforms. Dash: for real anyways let's go get our dorm key together i can’t wait to meet my roommate! Jeshlynn: oh my god yes! I hope my roommate won’t stink.
“AT POPPY’S OFFICE”
Poppy: Hello dear junicorns how can i help y’all? Dash: hey poppy can we get our dorm keys real quick? School starts in an hour, and we still need to settle in. Poppy: ofc! Let's get right into it! Fire dorm keys...hmmm...water keys...FOUND IT! There you go! Oh, my stars i almost forgot. Here is your schedule. Byeee! Jeshlynn: ty poppy byee! “jeshlynn and dash walk out of the office on their way to dorms”. Dash: JESHLYNN!! Jeshlynn: what? Dash: LOOK WE SHARE DORMS!!! WE HAVE THE SAME CLASSES YAYY! Jeshlynn: EEE! THIS WILL BE SO FUN! “Dash looks at phone and sees its almost time for class”. Dash: OOPS LET'S GET TO CLASS FAST BEFORE WE’RE LATE.
“IN CLASS”
Jeshlynn: pfff this is boring. Dash: hmmm yeah i kind of want to pay attention Tho. Sorry! Jeshlynn: Whatever nerd. “Popular boy (Anthony) walks up to jeshlynn” Anthony: woah are u the girl who snatched the popular girls wig off? You're so pretty, can i have your name? Jeshlynn: whose, mine? Anthony: Yes, do you want to sit at lunch with me? You’re funny. “jeshlynn looks at dash then looks back at Anthony” jeshlynn: uhm sure! Dash: what? I thought we sit together. Jeshlynn: calm down we share dorms it's not a big deal, it's just a lunch... Dash: whatever fine. Anthony: ooo someone's pissed. “Dash looks at him and walks away”. Dash: if u want to know where i am i will be in my dorm.
“IN THE DORMS”
Dash: o ur home pretty late, where were you? Jeshlynn: why do u care are u my mom now or what? Dash: jeez...i just asked want tea? How are u? Jeshlynn: eh I'm fine... Um. Dash: hey is everything okay you can tell me. Jeshlynn: can u shut up for a second, you’re annoying. Dash: stop with the attitude i did not do anything! Jeshlynn: blah blah stfu. “Dash tries to calm her down and hug her” “jeshlynn pushes him”. Dash: what was that for i tried to comfort you? Jeshlynn: get away before i kick you where the sun doesn't shine. Asshole. Dash: watch ur mouth bitch i did not do anything. Jeshlynn: WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME? Dash: u heard me, bitch. “jeshlynn starts to slap him” “dash pushes her on the couch” dash: don’t even try ur weak ass fuck. Jeshlynn: call me weak one more time. “MERMAIDIX SPARKLEFOAM RUSH!” dash: huh? So weak u have to use ur powers. Okay then “ EMBER FLARIA IGNITIX!” “They start an elemental fight but before it gets bad the principal gets involved”
“AT THE OFFICE”
Principal: what did u 2 young teens think! Are you 2 out of ur mind? Jeshlynn: HE PUSHED ME! Dash: SHE STARTED USING HER POWERS? Principal: both, clean the toilets for a week and you 2 can’t sleep in the same dorm for 3 months got it? Jeshlynn: oh, yeh i didn’t want him as a roommate anyway! Dash: oh okay...
“AT LUNCH”
Jeshlynn: pffft look who’s here is this dash? You loser why r u so quiet? Did they cut your tongue off? Anthony: poor guy what will he do now with no friends? Fucking sad boohoo. Dash: why are you doing this? Jeshlynn: i want to see you suffer u deserve it all. GIRL1: how sad emo guy i bet he plays fruit ninja with himself-. GIRL2: *thinks oof he’s hot* “girl2 dreams about dash” GIRL1: right GIRL2? He’s so pathetic. GIRL2: uhm yeah...! “jeshlynn is suspicious”
“FEW MONTHS LATER AT THE ELEMENT CLASS”
Jeshlynn: MERMAIDIX SPARKLEFOAM RUSH! Huh? What? MY POWERS?!? GIRL1: hah what u lost or powers? Jeshlynn: they just don’t work! I bet it was dash. If i find him... I am going to strangle hi-. GIRL2: CALM DOWN JESH!! He can’t do that oml “jeshlynn is suspicious again” jeshlynn: hmm weird ok.
“AFTER SCHOOL JESHLYNN LOOKS FOR DASH”
Jeshlynn: HEY YOU! IT WAS YOU! Dash: what now? Jeshlynn: YOU STOLE MY POWERS! Dash: oop you’re even weaker now but no i didn’t. Jeshlynn: ugh... Look dash. I'm sorry, please help me. Dash: BAHAH u think i will help you after all the bullying? Help yourself for God's sake fucking loser jeshlynn: PLEASE DASH IM SORRY “gets on her knees and cries” dash: u look stupid don’t ever talk to me AGAIN. got it?
“THE 3 MONTHS ARE OVER AND THEY ARE FORCED TO SHARE DORMS AGAIN”
“jeshlynn and dash get called into the office”. Principal: jeshlynn, dash you know that those three months are over you will have to start sharing dorms again. Jeshlynn: what why? Why can’t i stay with my roommate i have right now i don’t want to be with HIM? Dash: as if i want to share with YOU but like why? Principal: jeshlynn, i heard complaints from your roommate. He thinks you’re too loud and are in too much trouble he wanted to switch. Jeshlynn: what? Anthony would never say that about me UGHH why do i have to share with him why him out of all those students? Principal: we thought it would be the best since you two were great friends. It's a nice way to bond again. DO NOT START FIGHTS. Dash: got it ma’am.
“AT THE DORMS”
Jeshlynn: so. Since we share dorms again... Why don’t you just uh... Help me maybe? Dash: with what? No way ur asking for my help i already told u help urself? Jeshlynn: whatever I'm going to bed. Dash: okay? Bye, i guess. “Few hours later dash wakes up at 3am due to strange noises”. Dash: huh? Jeshlynn? You are not funny, what are you doing? Jeshlynn? Hello? “jeshlynn wakes up”. Jeshlynn: oh, my fucking god what do you want can’t u let me sleep? obsessed much. Dash: hold on if you’re here then what are those noises? I heard footsteps. Jeshlynn: dash you know i will not fall for ur stupid pranks go back to sleep before i report you to the headmistress. Dash: no please just listen. “Intruder shows himself” jeshlynn: AHHH WHAT THE FUCK. Dash: told you? Jeshlynn: GO FIGHT HIM UR THE MAN! Dash: bro I'm scared, no! What if i die? Jeshlynn: typical dash always a pussy. Dash: oh, come on then u go fight him if I'm the pussy. Intruder: wait wait no stop STOP it's me i am GIRL2 don’t worry i just came to see dash. Dash: what now? Jeshlynn: what? Why would you want to see dash u said u hated him? GIRL2: uh i mean i came to see you jeshlynn... Dash: at 3am? GIRL2: yeah, about the latest gossip... i guess... Jeshlynn: i never told u about my new dorm? GIRL2: whatever forget it see you later. Dash: what the fuck just happened?
“AT LUNCH”
Jeshlynn: oh, look who is here isn’t it the pussy scared to fight an intruder? Dash: look who it is the powerless jackass who begged for my help and forgiveness? “it goes silent”. Jeshlynn: i don’t know what you’re talking about “is nervous”. Dash: of course, aww are you embarrassed? “everyone looks at them”. Anthony: oops drama i guess the bully got bullied. Jeshlynn: Anthony! What the fuck! “Anthony shrugs”
“THE BULLYING CONTINUES TILL DASH HAS ENOUGH”
“DASH ATTEMPTS TO UNALIVE HIMSELF”
“AFTER HE IS IN THE HOSPITAL HE CAN GO BACK TO SCHOOL”
“AT THE LOCKERS”
Jeshlynn: oh, look who is back? The emo trying to kill himself? I bet he also cuts his arms “laughs” wrist reveal!! Dash: ... GIRL2: i think you’re going too far, jeshlynn. GIRL1: i hate him but i have to agree with that. Jeshlynn: OH MY GOD U 2 ARE SO LAME DO U LIKE HIM OR WHAT? “GIRL2 blushes” GIRL2: n-no! What HAHA of course not... jeshlynn: yeah yeah ooo GIRL2 likes dashh GIRL 2 likes dashh! Dash: i think I'll just go... “dash runs to the bathing quarters”
“AT THE BATHING QUARTERS”
“Dash washes his face”. Dash: what did i do to deserve this what am i doing wrong literally 6 months ago me and jeshlynn were best friends. “GIRL2 walks in” GIRL2: hey I'm so sorry for what jeshlynn is doing to you... i don’t know how she can bully someone like you... Dash: what do you mean ‘someone like me’ GIRL2: “goes silent”. Dash: hello? GIRL2: uh it was nice to talk to you um see you around! “GIRL2 runs away from him”.
“IN CLASS”
Teacher: class today we’re going to do a group project. Dash, jeshlynn get in pairs “teacher continues saying names who are in groups”. Okay! Get in pairs and turn the assignment in on sunday!
“AFTER SCHOOL”
Dash: let’s just start with it so we will get over it. Jeshlynn: we? YOU, you are doing it alone i have better things to do. Dash: like what? Jeshlynn: none of your business get into it i want a good grade little emo. Or what u don’t have time are you busy cutting yourself. Dash: what did you just say? You know that it was your fault. Jeshlynn: like i care. Dash: you know what I've had enough of you and your bullshit u think you’re funny well you’re not. “he packs his stuff and walks out of the dorm”. Jeshlynn: where are you going? (dash doesn’t reply). Jeshlynn: hey I'm talking to you! Dash: why do you care I'm going to GIRL2. Jeshlynn: what? Dash: u heard me. Jeshlynn: NO WAY U 2 CUNTS. Dash: someone’s mad, are you jealous i actually have someone who happens to be your so called ‘friend’. Jeshlynn: i don’t even care what are you talking about. (she’s jealous)
“IN CLASS”
“dash and girl2 sitting together” Jeshlynn: can you believe it? GIRL1: little backstabber how dare she and why him what the fuck they don’t even match. Jeshlynn: you know what would be fun? GIRL1: if we posted them online I'm sure everyone thinks the same. GIRL1: i don’t think that’s a good idea i mean. Jeshlynn: oh, what ur scared? GIRL1: you know what do it just don’t get me involved. Jeshlynn: whatever pussy.
“IN THE DORMS”
“dash is packing his stuff” Dash: finally, I'm getting away from this hell i talked to a counselor and i can change dorms isn’t that what we both wanted? Jeshlynn? Jeshlynn: yeah whatever just go. Dash: ur not holding me back Goodluck with ur new roommate. “jeshlynn thinks: how can she like someone like HIM she left the friend group like nothing I MADE HER. Why is dash so happy all of the sudden i loved to see him suffer UGH it’s not fair he can be happy but i ca-” “someone walks in, it’s her new roommate”. Roommate: damn girl u have a lot of shit in your head. Jeshlynn: who are you? Roommate: your new roommate! Now tell me about the drama I'm new in school. Jeshlynn: what drama? Roommate: don’t try to hide it i can read minds! Jeshlynn: yeah right. “jeshlynn thinks about killing her old friend and dash”. Roommate: damn hun who are we trying to kill chill down. Jeshlynn: WHAT? Roommate: what? Told ya but whose dash and GIRL2 and why do you want to kill em? “jeshlynn tells the whole story making it seem like they’re the bad ones and she is innocent”. Roommate: wow i did not expect that but you go girl whats the plan?
“JESHLYNN GETS REALLY JEALOUS AND MADE THE PLAN TO MURDER DASH AND THE GIRLFRIEND”
“AT ELEMENTAL CLASSES”
Jeshlynn: see how happy they are. Roommate: they don’t deserve it to be honest both assholes. Lets go up to them and just kill them already. Jeshlynn: we can’t do that, the plan! Let's gain their trust first. Roommate: lets go then what are we waiting for? “they go up to dash and his girlfriend”. Jeshlynn: hay dash! Dash: hi? Jeshlynn: how are you two doing? Dash: why are you so kind all of the sudden? Jeshlynn: oh i just wan’t to make everything okay, do y’all want to be in the same group? GIRL2: oh? Sure! Let’s go I'm exited to be friend again!
“AT THE FOREST”
Roommate: guys! Look here! Dash: where? “jeshlynn knocks them out”. Jeshlynn: oh no what did i do. Roommate: don’t worry girl we can handle it lets just burn them. “they carry them to the fire realm and throw them into the fire”. Roommate: okay girl this was easier then i thought. Jeshlynn: lets get out of here before someone sees us.

So 1-4 have been up for a while, I just dropped 5, thank you all for your help, comments etc. on figuring out which of many options I had to go. I went with the original 1,3,5. But ya'll wanted to know where it's going. (Yes, I can use ya'll, even though I'm not southern US). Seriously bite me, I DARE YOU!
So here they are with the last stats I had on them. They are raw, they need editing and attention. Thus, be brutal, I challenge you to be mean! I have my comments in them. They are named revising for a reason, as well as a tiny description.
Chapter 6 (Revising) Garrett & Steiner (3675)
Chapter 7 (revising) Sam & Scott (7528)
Chapter 8 (revising) - Sam in dorm (6363)
Chapter 9 (Revising) Sam coming home (9520)
Chapter 10 (Revising) Sam going to work (1362)
Chapter 11 (Revising) Sam and Garrett (5831)
Chapter 12 (Revising) Sam and Steiner (3229)
Chapter 13 (Revising) Sam and Carter (5345)
Chapter 14 (revising) Sam and Riley (8093)
Chapter 15 (revising) Sam, Bryant and Chavez (4750)
I'm giving this one, because it's lame to cut it off here -- It's a good pause point in the crazy.
Chapter 16 (Revising) Sam-Riley-Calgon (6395)
I would like to squish some of these together, as it's the same day. Time is not relevant in my world, but those would be 11,12,and 13.
Fair warning, I'm through chap 25, and then I pulled and made chaps 1-4. I have to rework that madness. (it was 44 in it's original incarnation) If you want it's fully ugliness, it's a link to Kindle, you'll have to pay for it, and it's 216K long. Yeah, but it's published.
Need to test your proofreeding, grammar, etc, skills on it, It is free reign for now. I will take your nasty, your brutal. You don't think you are alpha readers, beta readers, editors, etc. Check again. You just don't know it yet. I'm a 'jill of all trades, expert of none' but someone getting me to dive deep into my video archive, I realized That's my thing.
Enjoy if you choose, I need to do that sleepy time thing.

PLAYBOY Interview With Conan O'Brien Interview by Kevin Cook For Playboy Magazine February 1998
A candid conversation with the preppie prince of "Late Night" about his rocky start, his show's secret one-day cancellation and how David Letterman saved the day.
He was polite. He was funny. He gave us a communicable disease.
At 34 Conan O'Brien is hotter than the fever he was running when we met in his private domain above the "Late Night" sound stage. A gangly freckle-faced ex-high school geek he is "one of TV's hottest properties" according to "People" magazine. The host of "Late Night With Conan O'Brien" has become his generation's king of comedy.
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. Congested too, but O'Brien has far more to worry about than his head cold. A perfectionist who broods over one bad minute in an otherwise perfect hour of TV, he worries he might be anhedonic, "I have trouble with success," he says, "I was raised to believe that if something good happens something bad is coming." Sure things look good now "Rolling Stone" calls "Late Night" "the hottest comedy show on TV." Ratings are better than ever, particularly among 18- to 34-year-olds, the viewers advertisers crave.
But O'Brien only works harder. Despite his illness he taped two shows in 26 hours on three hours' sleep. He smoothly interviewed Elton John then burst into coughing fits during commercials. Later in his crammed corner office overlooking Manhattan traffic Conan the Cool gulped Dayquil gel caps. He coughed spewing microbes.
"Sorry, sorry," he said. Of course O'Brien can't complain. He came seriously close to falling to being banished behind the scenes as just another failed talk show host.
At his first "Late Night" press conference he corrected a reporter who called him a relative unknown, "Sir I am a complete unknown," he said. That line got a laugh, but soon O'Brien looked doomed. His September 13, 1993 debut began with O'Brien in his dressing room preparing to hang himself only to be interrupted by the start of his show. Before long his career was hanging by a thread. Ratings were terrible. Critics hated the show. Tom Shales of "The Washington Post" called it as "lifeless and messy as roadkill." Shales said O'Brien should quit.
Network officials held urgent meetings discussing the Conan O'Brien debacle. Should they fire him? How should they explain their mistake?
In the end of course he turned it around. The network hung with him long enough for the ratings to improve and the host of the cooler-than-ever "Late Night" now defines comedy's cutting edge just as Letterman did ten years ago.
Even Shales loves "Late Night" these days. He calls O'Brien's turnaround "one of the most amazing transformations in television history."
O'Brien was born on April 18, 1963 in Brookline, Massachusetts. His father, a doctor, is a professor at Harvard Medical School. His mother, a lawyer, is a partner at an elite Boston Law firm. Conan, the third of six children became a lector at church and a misfit at school. Tall and goofy, bedeviled with acne, he tried to impress girls with jokes. That plan usually bombed, but O'Brien eventually found his niche at Harvard where he won the presidency of the "Harvard Lampoon" in 1983 and again in 1984 - the first two-time "Lampoon" president since humorist Robert Benchley held the honor 85 years ago.
After graduating magna cum laude with a double major in literature and American history he turned pro. Writing for HBO's "Not Necessarily The News." O'Brien was earning $100,000 a year before his 24th birthday. But writing was never enough.
He honed his performance skills with the Groundlings, a Los Angeles improv group. There he worked with his onetime girlfriend Lisa Kudrow, now starring on "Friends." But Conan was not such a standout. In 1988 he landed a job at "Saturday Night Live" - but as a writer, not as on-air talent. In almost four years on the show O'Brien made only fleeting appearances, usually as a crowd member or security guard. His writing was more memorable. He wrote (or co-wrote) Tom hanks' "Mr Short-Term Memory" skits as well as the "pump you up" infosatire of Hanz and Franz and the nude beach sketch in which Matthew Broderick and "SNL" members played nudists admiring one another's penises. With dozens of mentions of the word that hit was the most penis-heavy moment in TV history. It helped O'Brien win an Emmy for comedy writing.
In 1991 he quit "SNL" and moved on to "The Simpsons" where he worked for two years. His urge to perform came out in wall-bouncing antics in writers' meetings. "Conan makes you fall out of your chair" said "Simpsons" creator Matt Groening. O'Brien's yen to act out was so strong that he spurned Fox's reported seven-figure offer to continue as a writer. He was driving for the spotlight.
By then David Letterman had announced he was turning shin - leaving NBC taking his ton-rated act to CBS. Suddenly NBC was up a creek without a host. The network turned to Lorne Michaels, O'Brien's "Saturday Night Live" boss. Michaels enlisted Conan's help in the host search planning to use him in a behind-the-scenes job. But when Garry Shandling, Dana Carvey and almost every other star turned down the chore of following Letterman, Michaels finally listened to Conan's crazy suggestion, "Let me do it!" Michaels persuaded the network to entrust it's 12:30 slot which Letterman had turned into a gold mine to an untested wiseass from Harvard.
O'Brien was working on one of his last "Simpsons" episodes when he got the news. He turned "paler than usual," Groening recalled. The Conan moseyed back to where the other writers were working, "I'll come back with the Homer Simspon joke later. I have to go replace Letterman," he said.
NBC executives now get credit for their foresight during those dark days of 1993 and 1994. They snared the axe and now reap the multimillion-dollar spoils of that decision. In fact, the story is not so simple. We sent Contributing Editor Kevin Cook to unravel the tale of O'Brien's survival, which he tells here for the first time. Cook reports:
"His office is chock-full of significa. There's a three-foot plastic pickle the Letterman staff left behind in 1993 - perhaps to suggest what a predicament he was in. There's a copy of Jack Paar's 'I Kid You Not' and a coffee-table book called 'Saturday Night Live: The First 20 Years.' His bulletin board features letters from fans such as John Watters and Bob Dole and an 8" x 10" glossy of Andy Richter with the inscription: "To Conan - Your bitter jealousy warms my black heart. Love and Kisses Andy."
"Of course it's all for show. From the photos of kitch icons Adam West and Robert Stack to the framed Stan Laurel autograph, from the deathbed painting of Abraham Lincoln, to the ironic star taped to Conan's door - they're all clever signals that tell a visitor how to view the star. Lincoln was his collegiate preoccupation: stardom is his occupation. Somewhere between the two I hoped to find the real O'Brien.
"As a Playboy reader he wanted to give me a better-than-average interview. I wanted something more - a definitive look at the guy who may end up being the Johnny Carson of his generation."
"Here's hoping we succeeded. If not I carried his germs 3000 miles and infected dozens of Californians for no good reason.
O'Brien: Yes, this is how to do a Playboy Interview -- completely tanked on cold medicine. I'll pick it up and read, "Yes, I'm gay."
Playboy: We could talk another time. O'Brien: (coughing) No, it's OK. I memorized Dennis Rodman's answers. Can I use them?
Playboy: You sound really sick. Do you ever take a day off? O'Brien: No. The age of talk show hosts taking days off is over. Johnny Carson could go to Africa when he was the only game in town -- "See you in two weeks!" But nobody does that now. I will give you a million dollars on the first day Jay takes off for illness.
Playboy: Do you ever slow down and enjoy your success? O'Brien: If anything, the pace is picking up. Restaurateurs insist on giving me a table even if I'm only passing by, so I'm eating nine meals a night. Women stop me on the street and hand me their phone numbers.
Playboy: So you have groupies? O'Brien: Oh yes. And other fans. Drifters. Prisoners. Insomniacs. Cab Drivers, who must watch a lot of late night TV, seem to love me lately. They keep saying, "You will not pay, you will not pay, you make me happy!"
Playboy: How happy did your new contract make you? O'Brien: Terrified. The network said, "We're all set for five years." I said, "Shut up, shut up! I can't think that far ahead." Tonight, for instance, I do my jokes, then interview Elton John and Tim Meadows. We finished taping about 6:30. By 6:45 my memory was erased and my only thought was, Tomorrow: John Tesh. And I started to obsess about John Tesh. Sad, don't you think?
Playboy: Not too sad. You got off to a rocky start but now you're so hot that People magazine recently said, "that was then, this is wow." O'Brien: I try not to pay much attention. Since I ignored the critics who said I should shoot myself in the head with a German Luger, it would be cheating to tear out nice reviews now and rub them all over my body, giggling. Though I have thought about it.
Playboy: Tell us about your trademark gag. You interview a photo of Bill Clinton or some other celeb, and a pair of superimposed lips provide outrageous answers. O'Brien: We call it the Clutch Cargo bit, after that terrible old cartoon series. They saved money on animation by superimposing real lips on the cartoons. I wanted to do topical jokes in a cartoony way -- not just Conan doing quips at a desk. TV is visual; I want things to look funny. But we're not Saturday Night Live; we couldn't spend $100,000 on it. Hence, the cheap, cheesy lips, You'd be surprised how many people we fool.
Playboy: Viewers believe that's really the president yelling, "Yee-haw! Who's got a joint?" O'Brien: It's strange. You may know intellectually that Clinton doesn't talk like Foghorn Leghorn. Ninety-eight percent of your brain knows the president wouldn't say, "Whoa Conan get a load of that girl!" But there are a few brain cells that aren't sure. When Bob Dole was running for president we had him doing a past-life regression: "My cave, get away." And then back further, "Must form flippers to crawl on to rocky soil," he says. There may be people out there who believe that Bob Dole was the first amphibian.
Playboy: Do you ever go too far? O'Brien: The fun is in going too far. It's a nice device because you get Bill Clinton to do the nastiest Bill Clinton jokes. We'll have Clinton making fart noises while I say "Sir! Please!"
Playboy: Are you enjoying your job now, with your new success? O'Brien: Well, there are surprises. I hate surprises. Like most comics, I'm a control freak. But I am learning that the show works best when things are out of control. Tonight I ask Elton John if he likes being neighbors with Joan Collins. He says he isn't neighbors with Joan Collins. He lives next door to Tina Turner. So I panic -- huge mistake! But Elton saves the day. "Joan Collins, Tina Turner, it doesn't matter. Either way I could borrow a wig," he says. Huge laugh, all because I fucked up. Later he surprised me by blurting out that he's hung like a horse. The camera cuts to me shaking my head: That crazy Elton. What can I do? Of course, I'm delighted that he went too far.
Playboy: That "What can I do?" look resembles a classic take of Jack Benny's. O'Brien: There's an old saying in literature: "Good poets borrow; great poets steal." I think T.S. Eliot stole it from Ezra Pound. Comics steal, too. Constantly. When I watched Johnny Carson, I noticed that he got a few takes from Benny and Bob Hope. When a comedy writer told me how much Woody Allen had borrowed from Hope, I thought, What? They're nothing alike. Then I went back and watched Son of Paleface, and there's Hope, the nervous city guy backing up on his heels, wringing his hands and saying, "Sorry, I'll just be moving along." Now look at early Woody Allen. You see big authority figures and Woody nervously saying, "Look, I'll just be on my way." Of course Woody made it his own, but he must have watched and loved Bob Hope.
Playboy: Who are your role models? O'Brien: Carson. Woody Allen. SCTV. Peter Sellers. When Peter Sellers died I felt such a loss, thinking, There won't be anymore of that. There's some Steve Martin in my false bravado with female guests: "Why, hel-lo there!" And I won't deny having some Letterman in my bones.
Playboy: You were surprise as Letterman's successor. At first you seemed like the wrong choice. O'Brien: I didn't get ratings. That doesn't mean I didn't get laughs. Yes, I had a giant pompadour and I looked like a rockabilly freak. I was too excited, pushed too hard, and people said, "That guy isn't a polished performer." Fine! But it isn't my goal to be Joe Handsomehead cool, smooth talk show host. Late Night with Conan O'Brien is supposed to be a work in progress, and now that we've had some success there's a danger of our getting too polished and morphing into something smoothly professional. Which would suck.
Do you know why I wanted this show? Because Late Night with David Letterman played with the rules and it looked like fun. Here was a place where people did risky comedy every night for millions of people. We had to keep this thing alive. There should be a place on a big network where people are still messing around.
Playboy: How bad were your early days on the show? O'Brien: Bad. Dave left here under a cloud: his fans and the media were angry with NBC. Then NBC picks a guy with crazy hair and a weird name. And the world says, "Harvard? Those guys are assholes." I sincerely hope that the winter of December 1993, our first winter, was the worst time I will ever have. I'd go out to do the warm up and the back two rows of seats would be empty. That's hard to look at. I would tell a joke and then hear someone whisper, "Who's he? Where's Dave?"
Playboy: You had trouble getting guests. O'Brien: Bob Denver canceled on us. We shot a test show with Al Lewis of The Munsters. We did the clutch cargo thing with a photo of Herman Munster. Unfortunately, Fred Gwynne, who played Herman, had recently died, and Al Lewis kept pointing at the screen, saying, "You're dead! I was at your funeral!"
Playboy: For months you got worried notes from network executives. What did they say? O'Brien: They were worried. The fact that Lorne Michaels was involved bought me some time. But Lorne had turned to me at the start and said, "OK, Conan. What do you want to do?" Now television critics were after me and the network was starting to realize what a risk I was. Suggestions came fast and furious. I kept the note that said, "Why don't you just die?"
Playboy: Did they suggest ways to be funnier? O'Brien: They were more specific and tactical. The network gets very specific data. Say there was a drop in ratings between 12:44 and 12:48 when I was talking to Jon Bon Jovi. I'll be told, "Don't ever talk to him again" Or they'll want me to tease viewers into staying with us: "You should tease that -- say, 'We'll have nudity coming up next!'"
Playboy: You did come close to being cancelled. O'Brien: We were cancelled.
Playboy: Really? You have never admitted that. O'Brien: This is the first time I've talked about it. When I had been on for about a year, there was a meeting at the network. They decided to cancel my show. They said, "It's cancelled." Next day they realized they had nothing to put in the 12:30 slot, so we got a reprieve.
Playboy: Were you worried sick? O'Brien: I went into denial. I tried hard not to think, Yes, I'm bad on the air and my show has none of the things a TV show needs to survive. We had no ratings. No critics in our corner. Advertisers didn't like us. Affiliates wanted to drop us. Sometimes I'd meet a programming director from a local station where we had no rating at all. The guy would show me a printout with no number for Late Night's rating, just a hash mark or pound sign. I didn't dare think about that when I went out to do the show.
Playboy: Are you defending denial? O'Brien: How else does anyone get through a terrible experience? The odds were against me. Rationally, I didn't have much chance. Denial was my only friend. When I look back on the first year, it's like a scene from an old war movie: Ordinary guy gets thrown into combat, somehow beats impossible odds, staggers to safety. His buddy say, "You could have been killed!" The guy stops and thinks. "Could have been killed?" he says. His eyes cross and he faints.
Playboy: How did you dodge the bullet? O'Brien: There were people at NBC who stood up for me. I will always be indebted to Don Ohlmeyer, who stuck to his guns. Don said, "We chose this guy. We should stick with him unless we get a better plan." He was brutally honest. He came to me and said, "Give me about a 15 percent bump in the ratings and you'll stay on the air. If not, we're going to move on."
Playboy: Ohlmeyer started his career in the sports division. O'Brien: Exactly, his take was, "You're on our team." Of course, it wasn't exactly rational of Don to hope I'd be 15 percent funnier. It was like telling a farmer, "It better rain this week or we'll take your farm away."
Playboy: What did you say to Ohlmeyer? O'Brien: There wasn't time. I had to go out and do a monologue. But I will always be indebted to Don because he told me the truth. Wait a minute -- you have tricked me into talking lovingly about an NBC executive. Let me say that there were others who were beneath contempt -- executives who wouldn't know a good show if it swam up their asses and lit a campfire.
Playboy: Finally the ratings went your way. Hard work rewarded? O'Brien: Well, I also paid off the Nielsen people. That was $140,000 well spent.
Playboy: Ohlmeyer plus bribery saved you? O'Brien: There was something else. Just when everyone was kicking the crap out of the show, Letterman defended me.
Playboy: Letterman had signed off on NBC saying, "I don't really know Conan O'Brien, but I heard he killed someone." O'Brien: Then I pick up the paper and he's saying he thinks I am going to make it. "They do some interesting, innovative stuff over there," he says. "I think Conan will prevail." And then he came on as a guest. Remember, this was when we were at our nadir. There was no Machiavellian reason for David Letterman, who at the time was the biggest thing in show business, to be on my show.
Playboy: Why did he do it? O'Brien: I'm still not sure. Maybe out of a sense of honor. Fair play. And it woke me up. It made me think. Hey, we have a real fucking television show here.
Of six or seven pivotal points in my short history here, that was the first and maybe the biggest. I wouldn't be sitting here -- I probably wouldn't even exist today -- if he hadn't done our show.
Playboy: The Late Night wars were hardly noted for friendly gestures. O'Brien: How little you understand. Jay, Dave and I pal around all the time. We often ride a bicycle built for three up to the country. "Nice job with Fran Drescher!" "Thanks, pal. You weren't so bad with John Tesh." We sleep in triple-decker bunk beds and snore in unison like the Three Stooges.
Playboy: You talk more about Letterman than your NBC teammate Leno. O'Brien: I hate the "Leno or Letterman, who's better?" question. I can tell you that Jay has been great to me. He calls me occasionally.
Playboy: To say what? O'Brien: (Doing Leno's voice) "Hey, liked that bit you did last night." Or he'll say he saw we got a good rating. I call him at work, too. It can be a strange conversation because we're so different. Jay, for instance, really loves cars. He's got antique cars with kerosene lanterns, cars that run on peat moss. He'll be telling me about some classic car he has, made entirely of brass and leather, and I'll say, "Yeah, man, I got the Taurus with the vinyl." One thing we have in common is bad guests. There are certain actors, celebrities with nothing to say, who move through the talk show world wreaking havoc. They lay waste to Dave's town and Jay's town, then head my way.
Playboy: You must be getting some good guests. Your ratings have shown a marked improvement. O'Brien: Remember, when you're on at 12:30 the Nielsens are based on 80 people. My ratings drop if one person has a head cold and goes to bed early.
Playboy: Actually, you're seen by about 3 million people a night. Your ratings would be even higher if college dorms weren't excluded from the Nielsens. How many points does that cost you? O'Brien: I told you I'm an idiot. Now I have to do math too?
Playboy: Do you still get suggestions from NBC executives? O'Brien: Not as many. The number of notes you get is inversely proportional to your ratings.
Playboy: What keeps you motivated? O'Brien: Superstition. We have a stagehand, Bobby Bowman, who holds up the curtain when I run out for the monologue. He is the last person I see before the show starts, and I have to make him laugh before I go out. It started with mild jabs: "Bobby, you're drunk again." Bobby laughs, "Heehee."" Then it was, "Still having trouble with the wife, Bobby?" But after hundreds of shows, you find yourself running out of lines. It's gotten to where I do crass things at the last second. I'll put his hand on my ass and yell, "You fucking pervert!" Or drop to my knees and say, "Come on, Bobby, I'll give you a blow job!"
"Ha-ha. Conan, you're crazy," he says. But even that stuff wears off. Soon, I'll be making the writers work late to give me new jokes for Bobby.
Playboy: Did you plan to be a talk show host or did you fall into the job? O'Brien: I was an Irish Catholic kid from St. Ignatius parish in Brookline, outside of Boston. And that meant: Don't call attention to yourself. Don't ask for too much when the pie comes around. Don't get a girl pregnant and fuck up your life.
Playboy: Were you an alter boy? O'Brien: I wanted to be an alter boy, but the priest at St. Ignatius said, "No, no. You're good on your feet, kid," and made me a lector. A scripture reader at Mass. He was the one who spotted my talent.
Playboy: What did you think of sex in those days? O'Brien: I was sexually repressed. At 16 I still thought human reproduction was by mitosis.
Playboy: How did you get over your sexual repression? O'Brien: Who says I got over it? My leg has been jiggling this whole time.
Playboy: What were you like in high school? O'Brien: Like a crane galumphing down the hall. A crane with weird hair, bad skin and Clearasil. Big enough for basketball but lousy at it. My older brothers were better. I would compensate by running around the court doing comedy, saying, "Look out, this player has a drug addiction. He's incredibly egotistical."
I was an asshole at home, too. My little brother Justin loved playing cops and robbers, but I kept tying him up with bureaucratic bullshit. When he'd catch me, I'd say, "I get to call my lawyer." Then it was, "OK, Justin, we're at trial and you've been charged with illegal arrest. Fill out these forms in triplicate." Justin was eight; he hated all the lawsuits and countersuits. He just cried.
Playboy: Were you a class clown? O'Brien: Never. I was never someone who walked into a room full of strangers and started telling jokes. You had to get to know me before I could make you laugh. The same thing happened with Late Night. I needed to get the right rhythm with Andy and Max and the audience.
Playboy: So how did you finally learn about sex? O'Brien: My parents gave me a book, but it was useless. At the crucial moment, all it showed was a man and a woman with the bed covers pulled up to their chins. I tried to find out more from friends, but it didn't help. One childhood friend told me it was like parking a car in a garage. I kept worrying about poisonous fumes. What if the fumes build up? Should you shut off the engine?
Playboy: For all your talk about being repressed, you can be rowdy on the air. O'Brien: The show is my escape valve. When I tear off my shirt and gyrate my pelvis like Robert Plant, feigning orgasm into the microphone, that shows how repressed I am -- a guy who wants to push his sex at the lens but can only do it as a joke.
Playboy: Aren't you tempted to live it up? O'Brien: I always imagined that if I were a TV star I would live the way I pictured Johnny Carson living. Carousing, stepping out of a limo wearing a velvet ascot with a model on my arm. Now that I have the TV show, I drive up to Connecticut on the weekends and tool around in my car. I could probably join a free-sex cult, smoke crack between orgies and drive sports cars into swimming pools, and my Catholic guilt would still be there, throbbing like a toothache. Be careful. If something good happens, something bad is on the way.
Playboy: Yet you don't mind licking the supermodels. O'Brien: At one point a few of them lived in my building, women who are so beautiful they almost look weird, like aliens. To me, a woman who has a certain approachable amount of beauty becomes almost funny. It's the same with male supermodels. They look like big puppets. So while I admire their beauty I probably won't be "romantically linked" with a model. I'd catch my reflection in a ballroom mirror and break up laughing.
Playboy: The horny Roy Orbison growl you use on gorgeous guests sounds real enough -- O'Brien: Oh, I've been doing that shit since high school. It just never worked before.
Playboy: Your father is a doctor, your mother an attorney. What do they think of their son the comedian? O'Brien: My dad was the one who told me denial was a virtue. "Denial is how people get through horrible things," he said. He also cut out a newspaper article in which I said I was making money off something for which I should probably be treated. So true, he thought. But when I got an Emmy for helping write Saturday Night Live, my parents put it on the mantel next to the crucifix. Here's Jesus looking over, saying, "Wow, I saved mankind from sin, but I wish I had an Emmy."
Playboy: Ever been in therapy? O'Brien: Yes. I don't trust it. I have told therapists that I don't particularly want to feel good. "Repression and fear, that's my fuel." But the therapists said that I had nothing to worry about. "Don't worry Conan you will always be plenty fucked up."
Playboy: When a female guest comes out, how do you know whether to shake her hand or kiss her? Is that rehearsed O'Brien: No, and it's awkward. If you go to shake her hand and her head starts coming right at you, you have to change strategy fast. I have thought about using the show to make women kiss me, but that would probably creep out the people at home. I decided not to kiss Elton John.
Playboy: Do you get all fired up if Cindy Crawford or Rebecca Romijn does the show? O'Brien: I like making women laugh. Always have, ever since I discovered you can get girls' attention by acting like an ass. That's one of the joys of the show -- I'm working my eyebrows and going grrr and she's laughing, the audience is laughing. It's all a big put-on and I'm thinking. This is great. Here is a beautiful woman who has no choice but to put up with this shit.
But it's not always put on. Sometimes they flirt back. Sometimes there's a bit of chemistry. That happened with Jennifer Connelly of The Rocketeer.
Playboy: One guest, Jill Hennessy, took off her pants for you. Then you removed yours. Even Penn and Teller took off their pants. O'Brien: Something comes over me. It happened with Rebecca Romijn -- I was practically climbing her. Those are the times when Andy and the audience seem to disappear and it's just me and this lovely woman sitting there flirting. I keep expecting a waiter to say, "More wine, Monsieur?"
Playboy: Would you lick the wine bottle? O'Brien: It's true, there's a lot of licking on the show. I have licked guests. I have licked Andy. Comedy professionals will read this and say, "Great work, Conan. Impressive." But I have learned that if you lick a guest, people laugh. If I pick this shoe off the floor, examine it, Hmmm, and then lick it, people laugh. I learned this lesson on The Simpsons, where I was the writer who was forever trying to entertain the other writers. I still try desperately to make our writers laugh, which is probably a sign of sickness since they work for me now. Licking is one of those things that look funny.
Playboy: Johnny Carson never licked Ed McMahon. O'Brien: We are much more physical and more stupid than the old Tonight Show. Even in our offices before the show there's always some writer acting out a scene crashing his head through my door. A behind-the-scenes look at our show might frighten people.
Playboy: One night you showed a doctored photo of Craig T. Nelson having sex with Jerry Van Dyke. Did they complain about it? O'Brien: I haven't heard from them. Of course I'm blessed not to be a part of the celebrity pond. I have a television show in New York, an NBC outpost. I don't run with or even run into many Hollywood people.
Playboy: You also announced that Tori Spelling has a penis. O'Brien: I did not. Polly the Peacock said that.
Playboy: Another character you use to say the outrageous stuff. O'Brien: Polly is not popular with the network.
Playboy: You mock Fabio, too. O'Brien: If he sues me, it'll be the best thing that ever happened. A publicity bonanza: Courtroom sketches of Fabio with his man-boobs quivering, shaking his fist, and me shouting at him across the courtroom. I'm not afraid of Fabio. He knows where to find me. I'm saying it right here for the record: Fabio, let's get it on.
Playboy: Ever have a run-in with an angry celeb? O'Brien: I did a Kelsey Grammar joke a few years ago, something about his interesting lifestyle, then heard through the network that he was upset. He had appeared on my show and expected some support. At this point my intellect says, "Kelsey Grammar is a public figure. I was in the right." Then I saw him in an airport. Kelsey didn't see me at first: I could have kept walking. But there he was, eating a cruller in the airport lounge. I thought I should go over. I said hello and then said, "Kelsey, I'm sorry if I upset you." And he was glad. He looked relieved. He said, "Oh, that's OK." We both felt better.
....See my other post with the last third of the interview

At the world’s top college of magic and technology, every day brings a new discovery -and a new disaster. The advanced experiments of the college students tend to be both ambitious and apocalyptic, with the end of the world only prevented by a mysterious time loop, and a small handful of students who retain their memories.
Surviving the loops was hard enough, but now, in his senior year, Vell Harlan must take charge of them, and deal with the fact that the whole world now knows his secrets. Everyone knows about Vell’s death and resurrection, along with the divine game he is a part of. Now Vell must contend with overly curious scientists and evil billionaires hungry for divine power while the daily doomsday cycle bombards him with terrorists, talking elephants, and the Grim Reaper himself -but if he can endure it all, the Last Goddess’s game promises the ultimate prize: power over life itself.
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The last few notes of a Roxy Rocket song echoed through Vell’s dorm, and while scrappy and dissonant, they were at least coherent. An improvement from early lessons, especially.
“Well, that didn’t hurt to listen to,” Skye said. “You’re making progress.”
“You have such a way with words,” Vell said.
“Okay, fine,” Skye said. “You’re actually making good progress for a guy who only finds time to practice every couple weeks.”
The ever-encroaching responsibilities of being a senior, the leader of the loopers, and the focus of a godly game of fate had whittled Vell’s free time down to almost nothing. The occasional guitar lessons were some of his only islands amid the storm, and a welcome excuse to spend more time with Skye.
“You want to try a few more chords?”
“My hands are starting to hurt, actually,” Vell said. He pulled away from the guitar strings and shook tense fingers loose, revealing fingertips rubbed red and raw by practice. Skye stepped forward and took him by the wrist to examine his hands.
“I do not understand how a guy like you doesn’t have thicker skin,” Skye said. “Weren’t you an actual cowboy for a while? You did rodeos and everything.”
“I wore gloves,” Vell said.
“And for the rest of the weird shit you’ve done in your life?”
Vell took a long pause.
“Yeah, I don’t know,” Vell said. “Good genes, I guess.”
“I’m not complaining, mind you, I just think-”
A loud dinging sound from Skye’s purse interrupted the conversation, and she released her grip on Vell to go answer her phone. Vell recognized those familiar chimes as the Dad Ringtone. While most contacts were set to vibrate, Skye’s father and a few other lucky high-priority contacts got their own ringtones. Vell was lucky enough to have his ringtone set to the theme song of a cartoon Skye had loved as a kid, but played at a much lower volume than the Dad Ringtone. Skye’s father didn’t call often, and when he did it was usually about something important, so she wanted to be sure to never miss a call.
“Hey dad,” Skye began. “No, now’s fine. What’s up?”
Vell set his guitar back on the shelf and relaxed while Skye continued the call.
“No, no, that’d be fine, great, even,” Skye said. “He might be a little busy, but- What?”
Skye’s delight and talking to her father shifted to mild concern.
“Dad we kind of need to- no, not tomorrow, dad,” Skye said. “Dad!”
A long silence followed as Skye held the phone frozen by her ear for a short time. She tucked it back into her purse, took a deep breath, and clapped her hands together as she spun to face Vell.
“So, good news, you’re going to get to meet my dad,” Skye squeaked.
“And the bad news?”
“Well, part one of the bad news is that it’s going to happen tomorrow,” Skye said. Vell would’ve like a little more notice, but that was far from disastrous. Part two was still waiting, though. “And part two is that I kind of maybe didn’t do a very good job describing the nature of our relationship, and he sort of a little bit thinks you’re...a hero.”
Vell waited for a part three, and there was none.
“Is that the bad news?” Vell scoffed. “I might let him down a little, but there’s worse things my girlfriend’s dad could think of me.”
“Yeah there’s definitely a few upsides, be sure to hold on to those,” Skye said. “But also, you know how I flunked out of mad scientist school?”
“Yeah?”
“Well my dad...didn’t.”
***
“Your girlfriend’s dad is a supervillain?”
“Former supervillain,” Vell corrected. He adjusted the suit coat he’d just put on. “He left the game after she was born and went white hat, now he only builds death rays and robot armies so relevant authorities can observe, learn, and prepare for the real deal.”
Having a genuine mad scientist to train with helped keep secret agents and spies ready for actual threats, and Skye’s father got to keep doing what he loved: threatening to blow up the world.
“Are you still really a supervillain if you don’t actually do any villain shit?” Hawke wondered aloud. “Isn’t he just sort a supertrainer? What would you call that?”
“I’d call it asinine,” Alex said. “We shouldn’t be condoning this behavior, much less inviting him to build a death ray on our campus.”
The Einstein-Odinson had been selected as the faux-mad scientist’s next testing ground, and due to a misunderstanding of his role on campus, Vell had been selected as his testing partner. He had to put on a tuxedo and everything, to better fit the classic secret agent trope Skye’s father was envisioning.
“Mad scientists are an important part of the scientific ecosystem,” Helena said.
“You’d know,” Samson muttered under his breath.
“Conflict breeds innovation,” Helena continued, either heedless to or deliberately ignoring his snide comment. “The arc of history requires both heroes and villains.”
“Yeah, well, as far as villains go, I prefer mine to be weird old dads with fake death rays,” Kim said. “Still, Vell, doesn’t it feel kind of weird that he doesn’t actually know you’re dating his daughter?”
“It’s fine,” Vell insisted. “It’s always awkward trying to talk to your parents about your relationship, and she just over-focused on me saving the day and helping people. Simple miscommunication.”
“And when are you resolving that miscommunication?”
“Later,” Vell said. “Skye and her dad don’t get to spend much time together anymore. They’ll take the day, and we’ll get this all sorted out later.”
A life of volcano lairs, alpine bases, and remote tropical islands did not exactly make it easy for Skye to keep up with her dad, so having him concoct a scheme right on her home turf was a good way for the two of them to spend time together. Right now, Vell’s only priority was allowing for some healthy father-daughter bonding time. And also preventing the apocalypse.
“Okay, I’m good to go,” Vell said, as he finished up the knot in his bow-tie. “Hawke, ready on comms?”
“Mission control good to go, Agent Harlan,” Hawke said. He enjoyed any apocalyptic arrangement that allowed him to stay safely behind a chair, but playing mission control was especially fun.
“Good. Samson, you’re on tech duty,” Vell said. “The rest of you, keep an eye on the island. There’s no guarantee our supervillain will actually end the world. Which feels like a weird thing to say.”
Big events usually invited big catastrophes, and a literal supervillain seemed like a prime spark for some apocalyptic fire, but Vell was not so sure. He couldn’t think of anything less likely to actually end the world than a deliberate attempt to do so. All the loopers agreed having some backup eyes on other potential disasters might be warranted.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Alex said. She was the first to leave, everyone else filtered into their respective roles to play soon enough. Samson walked alongside Vell as he left the lair.
“Hey, do I have to put up the whole mission control act like Hawke was doing?”
“Not if you don’t want to,” Vell said. “Play it up a little if Skye’s dad is around, maybe, but like, right now we can just talk normally.”
“Okay, cool. Got your shit right here,” Samson said, as he hefted a large bag of gadget. “Standard spy bullshit. Gizmo watch, secret cufflink radios, pen with a concealed laser cutter, got it all right here.”
“Thanks,” Vell said. “Where’d you find all this stuff?”
“I just asked,” Samson said with a shrug. “Island full of supergenius weirdos, most of them had this kind of stuff just lying around.”
“Convenient. Did you make a list of everyone you got this stuff from?”
“So we can keep an eye on them? Yeah.”
“So I can give it back later,” Vell corrected. “But yeah, actually, knowing about the laser pen guy might be a good idea.”
“We’ll know where to start with any laser-based apocalypses,” Samson said.
“Good instinct,” Vell said. The two of them walked out of the building and towards the docks. “Am I walking weird? I’ve never worn a tux before.”
“Little stiff, but I think it’s working in your favor. You look more serious.”
“Great, thanks,” Vell said. He stepped up to the edge of the docks and strapped on his gadget watch before checking the time on it. “Should be here soon.”
“You need me to stick around?”
“No, you’re good,” Vell said. “Thanks for the help.”
Samson excused himself before the chaos started in full. Vell felt like an idiot standing around in a tux for a minute or two, until he was joined by someone in an equally odd outfit. Skye joined him in waiting on the docks, wearing a dress with long sleeves and a short skirt over sparkling tights and some very high-heeled boots.
“Very gogo dancer,” Vell said.
“Yeah, dad’s really into that whole Cold War era 60’s style,” Skye said. “Apparently this is what a ‘proper villainess’ looks like to him.”
“Could be worse, could be the catsuit kind of female villain.”
“Ugh, don’t get me started,” Skye said. “Every time he took me to work conferences I had to watch grown women try to waddle around in pleather bodysuits.”
“Supervillains have conferences?”
“Oh yeah, surprisingly good ones,” Skye said. “Especially if you’re a little girl who likes genetically engineered sharks.”
“Oh, so that’s where you got your start.”
Skye nodded. Her penchant for genetic engineering had struck at an early age. Her father had initially been excited for her to get into the family business, but it turned out Skye just liked fucking with fish DNA, and didn’t have much skill in all the non-genetic engineering parts of mad science. He was proud of her anyway.
After shifting on uncomfortably high heels for the umpteenth time, Skye checked her phone and texted her father.
“He says he’s pulling up right now,” Skye said. Vell scanned the horizon and saw nothing coming across the ocean.
“Is he at the right-”
Vell was cut off, and forced to step back, as the ocean started to churn. The waves parted to reveal a jet-black submarine with a towering, jagged skull carved into the prow.
“Oh, right, supervillain,” Vell said.
The imposing submersible drifted to a halt, and a hatched on the side hissed open. Red lights beamed out from the darkness within, and a few seconds later, an armored killbot marched down a boarding ramp, flanked by a towering man in a long white labcoat. He had a jagged streak of black through his otherwise gray hair, and wore heavy glasses with thick black lenses that obscured his gaze and shadowed his face.
“Hi dad,” Skye said.
“Hello dear,” said the man behind the murder machine. He stepped off the boarding ramp onto the dock, as another killbot exited to flank him, and fixed his dark glasses on Vell. “And as for you...I am Doc-”
“Doc” stopped his imposing introduction to have a coughing fit. Skye stepped up and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Dad, did you take your meds today?”
“I did, I did,” the Doc said, between coughs. “Just a climate thing. I got on the damn submarine in Seattle, now we’re in the tropics, there’s pressure differentials, humidity.”
He let out a few more coughs and then cleared his throat loudly, before regaining his previous composure.
“Now, as I was saying,” he continued. “I am Doc Ragnarok!”
His boisterous shout failed to echo in the open air of the docks.
“Oh, good lord, that was terrible,” Doc Ragnarok said. “Can I try again?”
“I wouldn’t bother,” Vell said. “We’re by the beach, open air, the acoustics are terrible.”
“Oh, yes, you’re right,” Doc Ragnarok agreed. “Finally, someone who appreciates the details. You must be Vell, then, or is it Agent Harlan? Do you have a codename I should be using?’
“It’s just Harlan. Vell Harlan.”
“Yes, Skye has told me quite a bit about you,” Doc said. “You’ve escaped kidnapping attempts, outwitted undead thieves, stolen secret treasures.”
“Oh, he’s, uh, also a really nice guy, very helpful, top student,” Skye said, laying groundwork for the eventual boyfriend reveal.
“I expect nothing less,” Doc Ragnarok said. “I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to face off against someone with real credentials again, Mr. Harlan. For the past few decades it’s been nothing but greenhorns using me as a test run, well-trained but no experience, no sense of style.”
“Well, I am nothing if not experienced,” Vell said. “Stylish, however...well, this tuxedo is a rental.”
“I can tell,” Doc Ragnarok said. He let out a single boisterous bark of delighted laughter. “Ah, look at us, already bantering. I missed this.’
Doc cleared his throat again and regained his ominous supervillain demeanor, as he snapped his fingers to make the killbots flank him.
“I must begin my preparations,” he said, in a voice shockingly distinct from his earlier conversational tone. “Challenge me if you dare.”
“Excuse me a moment,” said a voice somewhere behind the killbots. Doc snapped his fingers, ordering the crowd to part again, and Helena hopped forward on her crutches. Skye glanced at Vell curiously, and he shrugged in confusion. She wasn’t supposed to be here, for multiple reasons.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, I was just reading your book earlier, ‘Practically Evil: A Guide to Classic Villainy’,” Helena said. “It’s a great read, but what really stood out to me is the section on classic henchman archetypes, specifically ‘The Igor’?”
She held up the book in question, which Vell noted had a picture of Doc Ragnarok holding a skull on the cover, and opened it to the section in question.
“Oh yes, I understand, completely,” Doc Ragnarok said. “As I said in the section opener, that information is presented for historical context, and I strongly condemn the typecasting of differently-abled persons like yourself into such roles. Regardless of my intent, I’m sorry if I caused any offense, and if you have feedback-”
“Oh, no, you misunderstand, I’m not offended, I’m actually intrigued,” Helena said. She turned the book around to quote a specific passage. “‘An outcast, often hunchbacked or otherwise misshapen in such a way to make them a pariah, physically handicapped but mentally gifted, driven to evil by the harsh treatment of judgmental peers’. I think it’s a very fitting role for me, and I’d love to give it a try.”
Vell had several very strong opinions about that, but kept all of them to himself.
“Well, it’s a bit short notice, but I’ll never discourage anyone from following the path of evil,” Doc Ragnarok said. “And this is a training exercise, after all, perfect time for you to train. Come along, minion! The more the merrier!”
Doc Ragnarok snapped his fingers again, and the killbots fell in line, this time with Helena in tow. A procession of smaller robots followed, carrying a worrying number of power cores, ray guns, and mutagens. Not for the first time, Vell began to wonder if this was a good idea. The recurring doubts got obliterated as Skye looked over her shoulder and winked. She was worth a lot more trouble than this.

Nicholas Mattison bumped his shoulder as he stretched his arms over his head, pulled back the soft pink curtain that draped over his bed like a canopy, and rubbed the sleep out of his green eyes as his bare feet met the plush carpeting of his bedroom.
If Nicholas was any more alert than his still-sleepy, bedheaded current self, he might have astutely recognized that the bed was a little too small for his lanky frame, or recalled that the bed in his freshman dorm definitely didn't have lacy, rose-hued canopy curtains.
The unlikely array of unfamiliar accoutrements in Nicholas' room only properly crystallized once he squinted and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, glancing around a space that resolutely wasn't his. Gone were the haphazard textbooks splayed across his desk, the guitar that had been propped against the mirror hanging on his closet door, and the laundry basket he promised himself he'd get to on Saturday morning, first thing.
Instead, Nicholas' field of view was met with walls painted a garish shade of bubblegum pink, a neat row of posters advertising pop stars he'd never heard of before, and an ornate door with a sign that read "Nick's Room" in bubble-letter script.
With a surge of panic, he pulled open the closet door, biting his lower lip with a brow-furrowing frown when he saw a walk-in selection of elegant ball gowns and starchy-frilled ballerina tutus.
Where WAS he?
**
Hello! Thanks for reading a silly prompt. I wanted to leave it mysterious so we can fill in some blanks together, but the gist of the prompt is this: Our protagonist discovers that, one way or another, he's found himself living in (read: trapped) a dollhouse. Like the post's title says, a daring escape ensues!
And that brings us to your character: Who is she? A fellow college student who found herself plucked from her normal life and brought to the dollhouse? Is she a brought-to-life doll who already lives there? Is she the supervillainess/mad scientist/crazy gal who owns the dollhouse and is gleeful to have a new plaything in Nicholas? It's your call!
If you're interested, please send a message my way! I ask that you be at least 20 as well, with a knack for descriptive, detailed posts that are at least 200 words or so long. (I break Discord's character limit like it's my job, so there's no shame there!) Let me know what you think of the idea, any concepts you might have, and who you may write as a character opposite Nicholas. See you in the dollhouse soon!

 ​I hadn’t slept for nearly 3 days as I crossed the border into Louisiana. This intense fatigue had left me in a state of body and mind that I know I could never return to again with any hope of recovery. Though I was more exhausted than most people have ever experienced, my focus would rarely waiver from the road. It was a very difficult task to keep my mind solely on my driving, and to not think of things like, “Should I have seen the warning signs?” or “How could I explain this to my mother”. The topics that my brain pondered in those infrequent moments of weakness were more than enough to push my attention back to the street signs and traffic signals. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing. Chasing a ridiculous myth from a half-baked storyteller. I knew it was impossible to be true, but without that 1-in-a-trillion chance at some hope, I was certain that I wouldn’t be able to continue living. ​The bundle of air fresheners hanging from my rear view mirror swung intensely from side to side as I followed the road in front of me. Every stop I made for the past three days saw me purchasing more and more of them in vain, and now the increased mass of tangled string and tiny pine trees could no longer sit still perched above my dashboard. The skin below my eyes was near purple from days of tears and lassitude. Those same eyes had begun to see spiraling shapes and flashes of light hours ago as sleep deprivation commenced its toll on my psyche. I doubted my sanity once more as, after driving for hours through thick Creole swamp land, I ran into a structure that seemingly had no business being stood where it was. And I mean “ran into” almost literally. As I followed the path around a blind curve ahead, I saw the structure directly in the middle of the road no more than 30 yards in front of me. I slammed on my brakes and came to a stop a few feet from a set of steps leading up to a pristine, white house. I sat in my car, staring forward for a few moments to allow for this most recent hallucination to pass. Once some minutes went by, and the building persisted, I finally allowed myself to believe what I was seeing. A mid-sized colonial cottage was erected in the middle of the road, in the deepest part of a Louisiana swamp that I could ever imagine. The house was two stories, with dark green shutters, and a wraparound porch complete with a few rocking chairs. It was picturesque and idyllic in nature, almost as if it was plucked from the pages of a magazine on quaint country living. I was so distracted by the pompous juxtaposition of this beautiful home and the dreary swamp surrounding it that I didn’t notice him at first. A man stood on the corner of the porch watching me as I sat in my car. Upon realizing this, waves of intense optimism, then deep dread, shot up and down my spine repeatedly. I had followed the instructions exactly, but this wasn’t what was described to me. “This can’t be real” I thought, as I turned off my engine and pushed open my driver side door. The now unmuffled sound of cicadas and bullfrogs was near deafening. The man who had made his way nearer to the steps on the porch was tall and hearty. He looked older, maybe late 60s or early 70s, with white hair and a nicely pressed suit. He stood leaning on a cane with the smile of a man who had just happened upon an old friend by chance while out in town. Over the cacophonous sounds of the swamp, I heard the man yell out to me. 

“Well hello ‘dere Pennsylvania!”, he called over with an inviting tone. “Now pray tell what y’all are doin all the way down yere.”
“What did you say?”, I called back with haste and confusion.
“Your tags boy!”, he said as he pointed to my license plate. “You a long way from home. Long way from home!”
“Oh, right sorry, I haven’t... I’m just really tired, my apologies.” I said still utterly confused by the events that were unfolding around me.
“Well if you’re weary, come on up for a spell and rest your bones! You’re welcome to sit yere with me as long as ya wish.”

 He gestured to one of the rocking chairs beside him as he sat down in the chair next to it. Hesitantly, I took him up on his offer and climbed the porch steps toward the old man. He groaned as he sat in a way that reminded me of my grandfather on my dad’s side. He looked and acted like he could be anyone’s granddad, with his jolly demeanor and inviting nature. He reached to the side of his chair to retrieve a pitcher of pink lemonade that I hadn’t previously noticed was there. He sat the pitcher on the small table between us and poured some into the glasses that awaited there. 

“Thirsty?”, he exclaimed with a smile.
“No, I’m fine”, I said without even thinking.
“You’re fine?”. He said with a chuckle. “Boy, you look about the farthest thing from fine right naw. Come on naw it’s my special recipe.”
“No!” I said more definitely. “No thank you, I’m not thirsty.” I continued realizing my emotions had gotten the best of me. My aggression made the old man’s face deflate for just a moment.
“I’m sorry, I just haven’t slept”

 The man’s smile and joviality returned as he spoke. “That’s fine, that’s fine, the pink kind ain’t for everyone anyhow. So, tell me what brings ya out this way Pennsylvania.” 

“Just exploring, driving through different places.” I said unsure of how to answer the stranger and unable to put the truth in words.

 The doubt on the old man’s smiling face was palpable as he asked, “All the way down in the Bayou? From Pennsylvania? Come on naw boy!” 

“I don’t know, I just kind of ended up down here I guess.” I said hoping he would change the subject.
“Ended up down yere?” he said with a hearty laugh. “I can’t think of many souls who would wind up in a place like this on account of an accident.”
“Hey, do you ask everyone who drives by your house what their business is? I’m just saying man, I’m sorry I don’t have a good enough answer for you.” I said unable to hide my growing frustration and worry.
“I don’t mean nothin by it friend, I figured ya looked like you could use a rest and, dare I say, a chat. I availed ya some refreshin lemonade, excuse me for thinkin some small talk may be in order.” He said innocently.

 I shouted “I’m not your friend! I don’t even know who you are, and all of this shit is very fucking weird so excuse me if I’m not acting like a fucking Chatty Cathy sitting on some spectral porch with some weirdo in the middle of a fucking swamp about a thousand miles away from my home and my fucking life!” I said, futilely attempting to hold back tears. I put my head in my hands and cried quietly as the exhaustion and sorrow had finally caught up with me. After a few moments, the weight of the silence I was sitting in hit me. The old man hadn’t said a word but the cicadas and bullfrogs had ceased their noises as well. It was as if the entire swamp was waiting to see how the man would react to my disrespect and frustration. I looked up to see the once cheerful man staring at me with the most serious expression I have ever noted on another. The man shouted, “You ever speak to me like that again and I’ll rip the tongue straight from your stinkin mouth!” His words pieced through the silence that surrounded me and hurt my ears with their strong vibrations. After a moment his smile was back, but it was no longer the innocent and welcoming smile of an old friend. It was more sinister, like the smile of a conman or a huckster. He spoke softly and politely but his true intentions were evident. 

“Ya say we don’t know each other but the thing is I do know you! Now when you arrived here at my stoop I was inclined to give you my assistance. You is in a sorry state and I can sure pity ya for all ya been through the last few days, but then ya lie to me a few times, and ya cuss at me a few times, and I got half a mind to send ya back the way ya came naw.”
“I’m... I’m sorry. I just haven’t been sleeping and, this has all been... This wasn’t how I was told all of this would look so I wasn’t sure what was going on at first”
“Mmhmm” he said judging my earnestness.
“Such a shame what that “wife” of yours did to your family. And to you! And herself by that matter! Pretty little thing, but so selfish! I remember a time not too long ago when folks was just different ya know? Ha, and I remember a time long long ago when everything was just so very different, you’d barely even recognize nothin at all. But even back then folks was goin through the same stuff you is now”. He pondered his own words for a moment before he continued. “What’s my name, Joshua?”.
After a long pause I finally gave him his answer.
“Mr. Wellers, sir.”

 With a big smile he clapped his hands once, so loudly that it seemed to restart the various sounds and songs of the bayou. 

“See?! We are friends after all ain’t we? I’ll help ya boy, I’ll help ya.”

 In that moment, the relief I felt cannot be described by any word or phrase that I have yet to find. I was still scared and it was very evident to me how wrong this entire situation was, but I didn’t care. I wouldn’t be driving home alone and that’s all that mattered to me then. 

“Thank you sir, you don’t understand...”
“Just fetch me the boy.”, Mr. Wellers interrupted.

 I sprinted to the hatch of my car without considering how difficult the next part would be. As I peered into the back window, I could see that the small, once blue, satchel had now been stained all over with reds and browns. I took a moment to push aside my grief, held my breath, and closed my eyes as I opened the hatch to retrieve the bag. I made my way back up the bright white steps of Mr. Wellers’ porch and handed him the bag. He opened the flap and looked inside as he spoke. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, such a shame”. He inspected the contents quickly before he continued, “I’m sorry to say this Joshua, but I think ya may be missin a couple pieces here.”

 His words made me vomit. I leaned over the railing of the porch for a moment until my nausea subsided. 

“Is that going to be a problem, sir?” I asked.
“No, no shouldn’t be no problem at all!” he said as he entered the home without giving the indication that I should follow.

 While he was gone, I sat in the chair I had previously occupied and closed my eyes. I thought with how exhausted I was that sleep would come easily, but that wasn’t the case. After what was probably about a half hour of trying to rest, I realized that simply wasn’t going to happen, so I sat on that chair with my hands clasped in front of me as I waited for Mr. Wellers to return. A while later, I thought I heard a rustling in the brush a little down the road from where I was sat. I looked up, and for the first time, I really took a moment to inspect my surroundings. There was the solitary road surrounded by patches of green brush and watery marshland with Cyprus trees and Weeping Willows towering overhead. Looking closer in the direction I heard the sound, I could see what I thought was a person standing at the base of one of the tall Willow trees in the distance. I looked around more closely and could see at least a dozen more people just standing in the swamp. Some were so far I could barely see them, and others were so near that I could clearly make out their facial features, but they all just stood there staring in my direction. 

​It was about this time that the front door to Mr. Wellers’ home opened again. He walked out holding a squirming and cooing baby boy, but it wasn’t my son.

 He handed him to me and simply said, “Well, here ya are!” I took the baby and looked him over in disbelief. It actually looked quite a bit like him. There were a lot of similar features, but it was undoubtably and most certainly not my son that I was holding. 

“This one should slide in nicely where your little one left off”.

 I stood in disbelief and confusion as the child I was holding playfully batted at my shoulder and tried to grab my ear and nose. Mr. Wellers spoke up, sensing my unease. 

“I’m not sure what you was told, but this is what I have to offer ya. If you play it right nobody will know any difference. It ain’t like your wife is around to protest none.”

 I stood silent, looking at the child in my arms, trying to process everything. 

“Do we have a deal son?” He said as he stretched out his hand toward me. After a moment, I shook his hand and quietly thanked him for his help. I turned around to walk back to my car and gasped at what I saw. The people I had seen in the swamp were now much closer to the house. One was standing just 30 feet or so from my car.
“Oh, don’t worry none bout them. Nosey neighbors and that.” He said under his breath to me. “Just get right in your car, turn around here, and keep on driving till you out of the bayou. I’m assumin you have a car seat?”

 I nodded my head without looking away from the small crowd in the distance before me. 

“Alright, be on ya way then! Thank you for comin to visit me!”
“Oh, and for your lovely gift!” he added as I walked away.

 ​I followed his instructions as he described them, and I wasn’t bothered by anyone or anything as I left the swamp. It took some serious gas-lighting but eventually, our friends and family accepted that everything was normal with my son. Babies grow so fast at that age, it wasn’t inconceivable for his appearance to change some. It was much easier to clean up what my wife did. I destroyed her note and without a second body, the case was open and shut. It took several years and a lot of mental gymnastics, but I can say now that I truly do love the son that was gifted to me by Mr. Wellers. It’s been eight years since then, and for the most part things have been normal. I’ve noticed some odd behaviors here and there but that’s to be expected with any kid. I didn’t think much of any of that until two nights ago. My son woke up in the middle of the night screaming. I rushed to his room to find him lying in his soaking wet sheets. I pulled the blankets away to find his bed covered in Spanish moss and Devil’s Horse grasshoppers. We live in Philadelphia so this was very confusing and concerning to me. But the worst part was after my confusion subsided and I was able to truly process the situation I realized that it wasn’t screaming that I heard from his room, it was laughter. A small part of me wishes that I asked more questions that day, to better know what this all meant and what I was getting myself into. Mostly I was just happy to have a family again. I thought I was ready to live with whatever consequences would come from the deal I made, but now I’m less certain. I don’t know if the swamp is trying to take him back, or if somehow the evil that lives in that place is finding its way back to us. All I know for sure is my dog went missing yesterday, and I think my son knows more about it than he’s admitting. 

Hello one and all. A heads up for the coming weeks. I will be traveling quite a bit, so I may have days where chapters are delayed. I've done my best to build up a backlog in preparation, but there's always the chance I won't have the time to work on them. That aside, I hope you've all been enjoying the story so far, and look forwards to bringing you more!
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Memory transcription subject: First Officer Recel, Federation Fleet Command Date [standardized human time]: August 2, 2136
[Elapsed Time: 16 minutes, 12 seconds]
My head hurt. My whole body felt heavy and weak. Even the act of awareness was tiring. I could hear noises around me, slowly rousing me from unconsciousness. Despite the weariness, I slowly forced my eyes open. The light in the room was low, reminiscent of twilight. My vision was fuzzy, though I could make out a majority of the room was white. I felt like I was in a bed of some kind with pillows under my head and a soft blanket over me. There was a rhythmic beeping next to me, which I eventually identified as some kind of heart rate monitor. As my vision slowly sharpened, I could see that all around my bed were curtains that blocked my view of anything else in the room. Faint memories of where I was and what happened slowly returned, but I felt so tired that I could hardly feel anything more than deep dread. I was glad that I was alive, but that meant that the predators had reason to not eat me right away. My heart rate monitor started to beep quicker along with my slowly growing feeling of fear.
I must have made enough noise to draw attention to myself. One of the curtains was pulled aside, and the Skalgan in a white coat stepped up to my bedside. “Oh, good. You’re awake. I was a little worried that the bump you took to the head had done serious damage, but the fact that you’ve come around so soon is a good sign.”
I was confused by this prey’s presence. I was surely on a predator ship, if my memory was correct, so why was a prey walking free? Why were they here among a predator crew? My crew. I’d forgotten about them. Were they okay? Did they get killed? I was so drained that the best I could do was weakly speak. “Where is my crew? Did the predators get them?”
The Skalgan huffed. “If you’re referring to the humans, they’re the ones who brought you to the medbay after you passed out. Your crew is getting some time in the brig to cool off while we figure out who you are, what you are, and why you’re here.” She walked over to the monitor next to my bed, taking notes on her holopad. “From what I heard, your subspace trail was traced back to Venlil Prime, so we assumed you were some sort of Venlil operation and knew about the humans already. So color us surprised when out of the ship comes three aliens that immediately start freaking out like the devil was after them.” Her ears flick in annoyance. “Honestly, we were told you Federation folks didn’t like meat eaters, but I never would've believed it was this extreme. Had we known, I’m betting the captain would have sourced a few Skalgan from other ships to make up the welcoming party. There’s not exactly many of us on every ship to begin with.”
Her words brought me a mix of surprise, confusion, and doubt. This was not the way I expected predators to respond to prey walking into their domain. The Arxur would have eaten us or dragged us off to cattle pens. Passing out would have been my death. I couldn’t understand why we were still alive, assuming the Skalgan was being honest. Not only that, but why had the Venlil not said anything if they know about the predators. “...Why are you here? Do the predators keep you here since they don’t know medic-”
“Okay, you need to stop with the ‘predators’ label. It might be my job to make sure you’re healthy, but that doesn’t mean I have to stand for your bigotry.” She huffed, ears pinned back on her head. “First off, humans and skalgan have been living together for centuries, so you can forget any ideas you might have about them eating other sentients. Second, I work here under my own free will. It’s my job to take care of my patients, no matter who or what they are. I trained at the University of Pennsylvania, a human run school. So you can take whatever notions you seem to have about humans being savage, unintelligent, uncaring, or whatever and stamp it out of your consciousness. Yes, they eat meat, but there is no correlation between that and how they behave. Okay?”
I stared at her in shock, taken aback by how certainly she was defending the predators. Clearly she trusted them. Maybe she was a special case and had been hand picked to fill a role outside of the cattle pens, but why would a predator even bother with teaching a prey? Were these predators smart enough to even teach? I was getting left with more and more questions, but I felt like asking more would only invoke the doctor’s ire. “...Okay.”
“Good. Now, we got a couple of things we need to go over. And just so you know, my name is Kirith.” She hopped up and sat down on the edge of my bed. “First off, who and what are you and your crew? Like I said, we’ve never seen aliens like you before.” For a few moments, I thought of lying. I didn’t want to give these people information that could be used against the Federation. If these predators are as smart as the doctor says, then they might know the value in having knowledge of our kind. Yet they were in contact with the Venlil. It wouldn’t be hard for them to check their sources, and any lies I’d say might easily be uncovered. I decided that I’d only give the bare minimum.
“...I’m a Kolshian, the small one of my crew is a Dossur, and the spiny one is a Gojid.” I said. Kirith waited a few moments longer, but after a prolonged silence, took a few notes on her holopad and lightly nodded her head. “Alright, I guess we’ll get names later. Secondly, why are you out here?”
“We’re a survey team that came out here after we heard word that there were potentially habitable planets in the dead zone. Many species are always looking for planets to colonize, and some would pay a good sum for the coordinates of habitable ones. Of course, it’s illegal to fly into restricted space, so we hid as best we could when we came out here. We thought that we could follow the Skalgan ships that came to Venlil Prime towards habitable space, and then from there search outwards.”
The doctor shoots me a judgmental look as she continues typing. “Using us to springboard off of. I don’t think any of us would take kindly to being used.”
“Used? But, isn’t it the duty of all prey to help each other?” I asked. This again seemed to irritate the doctor. “Okay, drop the 'prey' label too. That implies weakness, something many Skalgan would take offense to. Seriously, the more I hear about your beliefs of predators and prey, the more I wonder how your society could have ended up so ethically backwards.”
“W-what?! We’re not! We do what is needed to keep our people safe and alive! What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong is that your mind is so ingrained with these beliefs that when there is living, breath proof to contradict what you believe, you refuse to acknowledge it. Tell me, why do you think humans and Skalgan live together? Be honest.”
With me suddenly being put on the spot, I found myself speaking before I could realize what I was saying. “B-because you’re catt-.” I barely cut myself off before I spoke my mind, but it was to late. The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “...Cattle? Like what those monstrous, children eating, sociopathic, psychopathic Arxur do? That’s what you think humans are?” Her voice was starting to rise in volume, making me shrink back in the bed as she ranted. “The only reason I’m not dragging you off to the brig here and now is because I understand your people have generations of trauma inflicted on you by the Arxur, but the fact that you keep tying physical traits to behavior is straight up wrong. If you talked to a human without ever seeing them, I’m willing to bet that you’d assume they were any other ‘prey’ species. Humans aren’t monsters. Forget about appearances, and perhaps put more stock in what they do, rather than how they look.”
I was again left without words. Yet another passionate defense for the humans, something that no prey would ever dare voice. I tried rationalizing why she would say all of this, tried to think of an explanation. The thought of predator disease came to mind, but that wouldn’t explain the contradictions I’ve seen between how I thought a predator would behave and what’s happened so far. If these humans were like the Arxur, I'd be dead right now or trapped in a cattle pen. Something was going on that I was missing. Something made these predators not act like predators. “...Can… can you tell me about the humans?” I asked.
The doctor blinked, looking a little surprised at first, though eventually relaxed. “If it helps you come to understand them better, I’d be happy to answer any questions you have. But do note that you and your crew will likely be staying here for a while as we figure out what to do with you all. The top brass have been working out how to introduce humans to the galactic community without everyone freaking out, and we don’t want anyone blowing the whistle before we have a chance to speak for ourselves. However, I can promise you that you and your crew will be treated well in your time here.”
Maybe it was because I was desperate to believe her, but hearing we’d be okay put a lot of my worries at ease. It also helped that I was talking to a fellow prey and not one of the predators. If she was willing to talk about the humans, then they must not be trying to hide anything. There was still the matter that humans weren’t brought up during first contact, but considering how the Federation would react, perhaps they wanted to avoid a war breaking out. I didn’t look forward to essentially being a prisoner, but it was better that the fate we would have faced had these humans been like the Arxur.
Despite all the assurances though, I still had my worries that there was a lot being hidden from me. It felt like all I had to do was pull back the curtain and I'd see all the human evil, cruelty, and malice that the Skalgan were trying to hide. If that was the case, they were doing a good job so far keeping it hidden. Maybe it’s because the humans grew up with sentient prey that they were capable of keeping their instincts under control. It would explain why I wasn’t attacked when I passed out. There of course was a lot more I needed to learn. Perhaps I’d learn something that would be of use to the Federation after my release.
If the humans were secretly like the Arxur, than I could bring a vital warning to the Federation. I just had to make sure I didn't ask the wrong questions.
[First] [Previous] [Next]

OC art done by laghar_tish. Maps done by me.
Name: Sylvester Constantine Gender: Male Sexuality: Pansexual (Slightly Polygamous) Age: 22 Height: 6’0 Occupation: Mechanic (Occasionally Night Guard) Notes: Sweet and understanding, but very bold and daring. Sometimes stubborn. Fluent in both English and Zulu. His right leg is a prosthetic. Born in Johannesburg, South Africa. Lives in Atlanta, Georgia. Was adopted. B-Day is June 26. Drives a 1984 F-250 6.9IDI Diesel.
States: 1. Maine (Capital-Augusta) 2. New Hampshire (Capital-Concord) 3. Vermont (Capital-Montpelier) 4. Massachusetts (Capital-Boston) 5. New York (Capital-Albany) 6. Connecticut (Capital-Hartford) 7. Rhode Island (Capital-Provaidence) 8. Pennsylvania (Capital-Harrisburg) 9. New Jersey (Capital-Trenton) 10. Maryland (Capital-Annapolis) 11. Delaware (Capital-Dover) 12. Virginia (Capital-Richmond) 13. West Virginia (Capital-Charleston) 14. Ohio (Capital-Columbus) 15. Indiana (Capital-Indianapolis) 16. Illinois (Capital-Springfield) 17. Michigan (Capital-Lansing) 18. Wisconsin (Capital-Madison) 19. Texas (Capital-Austin) 20. New Mexico (Capital-Santa Fe) 21. Oklahoma (Capital-Oklahoma City) 22. Arkansas (Capital-Little Rock) 23. Missouri (Capital-Jefferson City) 24. Iowa (Capital-Des Moines) 25. Minnesota (Capital-St. Paul) 26. Kansas (Capital-Topeka) 27. Nebraska (Capital-Lincoln) 28. South Dakota (Capital-Pierre) 29. North Dakota (Capital-Bismarck) 30. Colorado (Capital-Denver) 31. Wyoming (Capital-Cheyenne) 32. Montana (Capital-Helena) 33. Arizona (Capital-Phoenix) 34. Utah (Capital-Salt Lake City) 35. Idaho (Capital-Boise) 36. Nevada (Capital-Carson City) 37. California (Capital-Sacramento) 38. Oregon (Capital-Salem) 39. Washington (Capital-Olympia) 40. North Carolina (Capital-Raleigh) 41. South Carolina (Capital-Columbia) 42. Tennessee (Capital-Nashville) 43. Kentucky (Capital-Frankfort) 44. Georgia (Capital-Atlanta) 45. Alabama (Capital-Montgomery) 46. Mississippi (Capital-Jackson) 47. Louisiana (Capital-Baton Rouge) 48. Florida (Capital-Tallahassee) 49. Hawaii (Capital-Honolulu) 50. Alaska (Capital-Juneau) 51. Puerto Rico (Capital-San Juan) Territories: 1. Guantanamo Bay 2. Panama Canal 3. Johnston Atoll 4. Navassa Island 5. St. Pierre and Miquelon
Notes: * Name: United States of America (USA) * Government: Constitutional Federated Presidential Republic (Multi-Party System) * Foundation: July 4, 1776 * Official Language: N/A (English being the most common) * Official Religion: N/A (Christianity being the most common) * Capital: Washington D.C. * National Motto: E Pluribus Unum * Country Age: 247 * Population: 341.41 Million * Total GDP: 28.89 Trillion * Total States: 51 * Total Square Miles: 3,802,763 * Total Square Kilometers: 9,849,139 * Largest State (Size): Alaska * Largest State (Population): California * Smallest State (Size): Rhode Island * Smallest State (Population): Wyoming * Oldest State: Delaware (1787) * Youngest State: Puerto Rico (1998) * States with highest GDP: * California * Texas * New York * Florida * Michigan * States admitted in order: 1. Delaware 2. Pennsylvania 3. New Jersey 4. Georgia 5. Connecticut 6. Massachusetts 7. Maryland 8. South Carolina 9. New Hampshire 10. Virginia 11. New York 12. North Carolina 13. Rhode Island 14. Vermont 15. Kentucky 16. Tennessee 17. Ohio 18. Louisiana 19. Indiana 20. Mississippi 21. Illinois 22. Alabama 23. Maine 24. Missouri 25. Arkansas 26. Michigan 27. Florida 28. Texas 29. Iowa 30. Wisconsin 31. California 32. Minnesota 33. Oregon 34. Kansas 35. West Virginia 36. Nevada 37. Nebraska 38. Colorado 39. North Dakota 40. South Dakota 41. Montana 42. Washington 43. Idaho 44. Wyoming 45. Utah 46. Oklahoma 47. New Mexico 48. Arizona 49. Alaska 50. Hawaii 51. Puerto Rico * Top 25 Cities: 1. New York City 2. Los Angeles 3. Chicago 4. Houston 5. Phoenix 6. Philadelphia 7. San Antonio 8. San Diego 9. Dallas 10. Detroit 11. Jacksonville 12. Austin 13. Forth Worth 14. San Jose 15. Columbus 16. Charlotte 17. Indianapolis 18. San Francisco 19. Seattle 20. Denver 21. Oklahoma City 22. Nashville 23. El Paso 24. Washington D.C. 25. Las Vegas * Total Life Expectancy: 80.01 Years * Happiness Rank: 6th * Education Rank: 5th * Crime Index: 26.4 * Homeless: 5 per 10,000 people * Poverty: 6.5% * Unemployment: 3.1% * Obesity Rate: 9% of the population * Inflation: 1.7% * Brith Rate/Population Growth: Slow * IMR: 5.1 per 1,000 live births * Economy Type: Mixed Economy * HDI: 0.936 (Very High) * Gini: 26.4 * Democratic Index: 8.21 * Internal Stability: 96% * War Support: 21% * National Debt: 600 Billion * Currency: US Dollar * Measurement Systems: Imperial and Metric * Major Sources of Power: Hydro, Nuclear, Solar, Wind, Coal, Natural Gas, Geothermal, Oil * National Anthem: Star-Spangled Banner (Official), America the Beautiful (Unofficial) * National Bird: Bald Eagle * National Flower: Rose * Major Parties: Democratic, Republican, Independent * Minor Parties: Dozens of them * Voting System: 10 candidates from each major party run for President. Every candidate from each party go through election rounds and debates until 1 candidate from every party makes it to Election Night. Whoever gets the majority of votes wins. Senators, Representatives, and Justices work the same in our timeline. * Presidential Term: 2 Terms (4 years) * SenatoRepresentative Term: 5 Terms (2 years) * Justice Term: 20 years * Total number of Presidents: 46 * President Age: 35 min/75 max * SenatoRepresentative Age: 25 min/65 max * Justice Age: 30 min/80 max * List of Presidents: 1. George Washington 2. John Adams 3. Thomas Jefferson 4. James Madison 5. James Monroe 6. John Quincy Adams 7. Andrew Jackson 8. Martin Van Buren 9. William Henry Harrison 10. John Tyler 11. James K. Polk 12. Zachary Taylor 13. Millard Fillmore 14. Franklin Pierce 15. James Buchanan 16. Abraham Lincoln 17. Andrew Johnson 18. Ulysses S. Grant 19. Rutherford B. Hayes 20. James Garfield 21. Chester Arthur 22. Grover Cleveland 23. Benjamin Harrison 24. Grover Cleveland 25. William McKinley 26. Teddy Roosevelt 27. William Howard Taft 28. Woodrow Wilson 29. Warren G. Harding 30. Calvin Coolidge 31. Herbert Hoover 32. Franklin Delano Roosevelt 33. Harry S. Truman 34. Dwight D. Eisenhower 35. John Kennedy 36. Lyndon B. Johnson 37. Richard Nixon 38. Gerald R. Ford 39. Jimmy Carter 40. Ronald Reagan 41. George H.W. Bush 42. William Clinton 43. Al Gore 44. John McCain 45. Barack Obama 46. Luisa Ramirez * The Flag: The symbolism of the US flag is the same as in our timeline. The design of the flag has 51 stars, with 3 lines of 9 stars and 3 lines of 8 stars. The blue and red are very slighty a lighter shade. * Military Size: The USA, as of current standing, has over 1,170,000 well-trained, active servicemen and women, with over 730,000 in reserves. * Military Branches: Army, Marines, Air Force, Navy, National Guard, Coast Guard, Space Force. * Current Status: Hyperpower.

Author's Note: Traveler's Song is loosely set to the melody of the Christmas carol In The Bleak Midwinter.
Book Two: The Academy- Part 9
When Buck and his friends reached the Emerald Winglet lobby, he found Lily sitting at the desk, and Sala and Butterfly were both lounging around on the couch. Buck tried to remember what he wanted to tell Lily, but he could not entirely remember. Meanwhile, Bailey and Badger had rushed into the boy’s dorm, so Buck decided to join Patience in following them.
The dorm was different from how he remembered it. Now that it was occupied, there were signs of life in the room, such as messy, unmade covers on the beds and loose clothing spread around in areas surrounding some of the beds. Buck approached the window at the end of the room and looked out. The same view as before awaited him, Haven in the distance was a jewel in the middle of the grasslands, and the huge dragon castle was even further away.
He looked closer and noticed a tiny dot at the foot of the mountains, somewhat closer to him than Haven, and Buck realized he was seeing the entrance to the tunnel and its attached guard house. He remembered the night he went through the tunnel after narrowly escaping the Scourge. He shivered uncomfortably remembering what he and Elm and had done to the bandits, and he hoped that somehow the remaining bandits had been spared from execution. He also remembered Birch, and hoped that he was safe on his travels around Pyrrhia.
“Hey, Buck!” Badger had called to him from behind. Buck turned to see the boy gesturing to one of the beds. “You can have this bed. It’s the only free bed in here.”
Buck approached the bed Badger pointed to. It seemed he would be getting the bottom bunk.
“I took the top bunk because I’m smaller than you,” Badger explained, “Hopefully that’s okay with you.”
Buck nodded. “I guess that’s fine.” He sat down on the bed, and was surprised with how soft it was. He laid back onto the pillow and sighed. “This is pretty nice.”
Suddenly, the room was plunged into near darkness, causing both Buck and Badger to cry out. “W-what’s going on?” Badger stammered. Buck stood from his bed and noticed that the glass globes on the wall which had been glowing before had lost their light. Lily dashed into the room, seeming relieved when she saw them.
“Alright, you four stay in here for now.”
“What’s going on?” Patience asked her.
“The lights in the Academy are powered by a machine called a hydroelectric generator. It’s technology we got from the Academy of Humanities and Sciences in Haven. They must have had a problem with it downstairs.”
“So we’re just going to be in the dark now?” Badger shook, apparently he hadn’t grown out of his fear of the dark yet.
“At least for now. This room still has daylight coming in so you’ll be fine in here until the lights are fixed.”
“We’ll be okay,” Buck assured Badger as Lily left, “You’ve got us here.”
Though suddenly things were not okay. What started as a small rumbling grew rapidly into a full-on earthquake, and Buck and the others, unsure what do do, ran under the beds for cover, as the entire Academy shook violently, causing Badger and Buck to scream in fear. The beds were all rattling, and various pieces of clothing fell off of some of the beds.
After what felt like an eternity, the shaking subsided, and thankfully none of the beds were toppled. Lily again rushed into the room. “Are you kids okay?”
Buck and the others nodded, though Buck couldn’t stop shivering. “Is anything worse about to happen?” he cried towards Lily.
“How did that even happen?” Patience asked her.
“We don’t know,” Lily said, grimacing. “The dragons say that Jade Mountain didn’t usually have earthquakes when they first started using it for the Academy. The tremors only started about six months ago.”
“Is Jade Mountain secretly a volcano or something?” Patience shook, “Because if this whole place is about to erupt—”
“Jade Mountain is definitely not a volcano,” Lily stated, “We did a full geological survey of the mountain during the construction of the human facilities. There’s no magma anywhere in this mountain. And we’re not near any fault lines either. Whatever is causing these tremors is a complete mystery.”
“Well that’s kind of ominous,” Bailey whispered.
“I wonder how the dragons are doing?” Badger asked, “Are they all in the dark right now?”
“Some of them may be, but they’re smart enough to stay in one place, and NightWings and SeaWings have excellent night vision. But with the next class approaching, hopefully they fix the generator soon.”
“Can you stay with us?” Badger glumly asked Lily, “I’m scared of the dark…”
“Of course, Badger. Let me go get the other kids from the lounge though.”
She did not end up needing to do that, as Butterfly and Sala both ran to the dorm.
“The whole mountain was shaking!” Butterfly shouted.
“Yes, it was,” Lily told him. “Stay in here for now, until they get the lights fixed.”
“No kidding,” Sala said as he sat on one of the beds, “It was so dark out there I couldn’t see anything except the doors to the bedrooms!”
“How many times has this happened?” Patience asked Lily.
“The generator is, well, experimental. It has failed before, but only twice before now, twice in a whole year. And this is the first time both a power failure and a tremor occurred together.”
“Did the tremor cause the lights to go out?” Buck asked no one in particular.
“The lights went out before the earthquake happened,” Sala said, “So maybe not.”
“How long does it usually take to fix the lights?” Butterfly asked.
“Usually only a few minutes,” Lily answered, “There’s a full-time team of engineers monitoring the generator so as soon as anything goes wrong they’d get to work fixing it.”
Just as she guessed, the lights then flickered back on. Badger gasped with relief, and Buck stood out of his bed. Right at that moment, they could hear the gong ring from the Great Hall.
“Looks like it’s time for your next class,” Lily said, “Better get on down there.”
“But what if the lights go out again?” Badger was shivering, “I don’t wanna be in the dark anymore.”
Wow, Buck thought, It’s like he loses years off his childhood whenever it gets too dark. He did not dare voice that aloud with Lily present.
“Like I said,” Lily told Badger, “The generator doesn’t break down very much. You’ll be safe out there. Also, the original parts of the Academy don’t even get that dark, since there’s skylights in the ceilings out there.”
“A-alright,” Badger said shakily, and he stood with the others.
“Okay,” Patience said confidently, hoping to stoke up the other students, “Let’s go take on our next class!”
In their next classroom, the talk among both the humans and dragons was the lights and the tremor that had just happened.
“I thought the whole mountain was going to cave in on us!” Holly dramatically shouted to Daisy next to her.
“It’s times like these when I wish I had a way of flying away at a moment’s notice,” he heard a SkyWing tell his friend, “I hate being indoors!”
“Everyone, please,” a NightWing at the top of the room told the students, “Please calm down.” The class, thankfully, obeyed.
A human woman at her feet cleared her throat. “In light of the recent incident with the lights and the earthquake, Sunny has asked me to reassure the class that the human engineers are working tirelessly to ensure the failure that happened minutes ago does not happen again. The electric lights fitted in the Academy are a gesture of humanity’s kindness towards dragons but are a very new technology, so they are prone to occasionally breaking down.”
“With that being said,” the NightWing continued, “I am Moonwatcher, and my human companion is named Cranberry. We are here to teach you art and music, but Cranberry thought we might split the class today among both topics. The dragons today will be drawing, and the humans will be taught a song by Cranberry.”
“Okay, kids, come to me!” Cranberry ordered, and the humans stood from their desks and approached the stage at the front of the room, where a semicircular row of stands had been placed. Buck took one of them and found that a piece of paper had been placed on it with what looked like words to a song.
“I thought I’d test out your voices with an easy, short song. These music sheets don’t have the melody printed on them, so just follow along with me as I sing it.”
As the humans variously stared at the lyrics or scratched their heads, Buck snuck a glance at the dragons. As he did, Moonwatcher gave the dragons their instructions. “Just as the humans are going to be testing their singing voices, I’d like to test your ability to draw. There is a piece of paper and pencil at your desk. I’d like you to draw something, really, the first thing that comes into your head. Begin now, please.”
“Right, humans,” Cranberry said, “Repeat after me, this is the first bar of the song.”
O’er the evening su-un, As the light does fade, I set my tentpoles in the ground, The comfort of the earth.
“Okay,” Cranberry finished, “You kids try now.”
Buck tried to sing along with the other students, though while he could match the notes well, he was finding it very difficult to sing in time with his classmates, and it seemed the other students were also struggling, with Holly in particular being out of key.
“Good first try. Really wasn’t expecting you all to nail harmony on your first try but we have all year to improve. Let’s continue.”
The sca-ly beasts above, Fly tow-wards their home, And I lie in peace, Down below, Curled into my bag.
Buck noticed some of the dragons give Cranberry odd looks at the first line, of course being referred to as “scaly beasts” might hit a sour note with them. Nonetheless, Buck sang, trying to synchronize himself better with the others.
“Very good,” Cranberry said. “This song of course was written before we made peace with the dragons, so the lyrics are a little dated, my apologies for that. Now for the final bar of this verse.”
The Moons above shine brightly, O’er the for-est green, And bathe my body in safety, In shelter from the cold.
Buck could still easily hit the high note at the beginning due to his youth, though he heard Patience’s voice break trying to achieve it.
Cranberry clapped once with a beaming smile on her face. “Great job! That last bar’s high note can be challenging, but soon you’ll all be crushing songs like this. This song is called Traveler’s Song, and it’s an old hymn sung by travelers as a prayer for safety. It does go on for more verses, but I left them out for brevity’s sake and since, well, they get a bit more antagonistic of dragons.”
Buck could abruptly hear Bailey gasp, and he looked over to her to see she was staring blankly at the dragon section of the classroom. Buck followed her gaze and saw the MudWing who had bullied him earlier… holding up his drawing to the humans. It was a crude sketch of a human boy, but with mouse ears poking out of his hair and a long, wiry tail. Worse yet, he could see a Dragon phrase written below, and unfortunately it was made up of words he remembered from his language class an hour ago.
Hi there, squeaky.
Buck’s blood boiled, and some of the other kids murmured nervously as they noticed it. Finally, Cranberry saw the drawing as well, and her expression darkened as she approached Moonwatcher.
“Bulrush,” Moonwatcher said in a low voice, “Care to explain what it is you drew there?”
Now the other dragons saw his drawing, and to Buck’s disappointment, he saw several of them barely restrain chuckles.
“Please put that down,” Moonwatcher sighed exasperatedly, “I will be discussing this with the headmistress.”
Bulrush complied, smirking the entire time. The class continued, with the humans practicing singing Traveler’s Song, but after the incident with Bulrush the students struggled to concentrate on their singing, often becoming more consistently off-key. Moonwatcher had collected Bulrush’s drawing, presumably to show either Sunny or Tsunami, and he had been asked to leave the class. The damage, however, had been done.
When the class finally ended, Moonwatcher turned to the humans as the dragons left. “I am so sorry about Bulrush’s behavior. To think, if I had my mind-reading capabilities unblocked I could have noticed sooner…”
“It’s fine, Moon,” Cranberry reassured.
“Uhh, don’t we get a say in this?” Holly hollered over Cranberry, “What exactly is going to be done about him?”
“We have a discipline system in place for dragons who violate the Academy’s rules,” Cranberry explained, “He will get a very stern talking-to from Tsunami, and if he keeps up with his behavior, he will either be suspended or expelled.”
“Why not just kick him out now?” Holly asked angrily.
“Like I said, Holly, we have a process. It’s important that he be given an opportunity to change his behavior.”
The gong rang then, and Holly sulked the whole way out of the classroom. Buck meanwhile stayed close to Bailey as the kids left.

Pennsylvania, at least in Southeastern Pennsylvania like Berks, Chester and Montgomery County seems to be falling in love with the concept of roundabouts these days. The problem is, half the drivers here seem to be really confused and/or terrified by them. I’ve seen people literally come to a full stop in the middle of one and start waving people in. There’s one I do not dare go through without my hand on the horn because of so many people blindly blasting their way in and not waiting for an opening. Have you seen any of this? The best are the ones with two lanes, that’s always a real shitshow.

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"Ex-Trump Aide's Group Files Complaints Over Judges' Diversity Pushes
Gene Hamilton, America First Legal's general counsel, in a statement called the policies "intolerable" and argued they should be rescinded as they "treat some attorneys better than others based on the color of their skin or their sex." The complaint argues the judges are violating federal judicial conduct rules and are discriminating based on race in violation of the U.S. Constitution's Fifth Amendment's equal protection guarantee.
The judges and 7th Circuit did not respond to requests for comment.
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Ok to monetize, but don't paywall. Links to the previous parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9.
[Chrys]
Bud? Is that you? What are you doing here? And, uh, where exactly is "here"?
…
Well, there's some dude who keeps talking about shit, but he mostly won't answer my questions. It's kind of not cool.
…
Uh, memories? I mean, yeah, I forgot things, but I do that a lot. I still know the things that matter, bud.
…
Is this really a good time to quiz me on my own past? Like, obviously I know where I'm from. I'm from, uh… probably a forest? Or a jungle, maybe?
…
Come on, it's fine. I'm fine! I, uh… I mean, I can't remember kind of a lot of stuff, but it's…
…
Nah, you're right. I'm trying not to freak out, but I might be getting amnesty or insomnia or whatever.
…
Right! Amnesia! I was gonna guess anesthesia next, so—
[Demon]
Shut up already. Unholy gods, that idiot is annoying. Unlike you, my darling changeling. Have you come to take this dryad's place?
…
Then give me explicit permission to break you in any way I please, be it mental or physical.
…
For every second you hesitate, I will force him to relive his worst memories.
…
Don't believe me? Watch him sink into despair.
[Chrys]
(Sounding broken)
I can't believe it. D-did they really burn it all down while I was gone?
…
I'm sorry! If I hadn't gone off to school, maybe our home would still… maybe I wouldn't be alone.
…
Just go, Vera. I… I know you can't bear to look at me.
(Crying in the background until otherwise specified)
[Demon]
I could twist the memories and place more blame on him. I could alter his memories of you. Or I could just take all of it and leave him an empty husk.
Tick tock, darling.
…
Good choice. I'll drop him just outside this dorm you shared.
[Chrys's audio cuts out]
…
Now I think I'll take you to my dorm. This one is too… lively.
[The dimensions twist]
Much better, don't you think?
…
As lovely as you already are, darling, there's still something that would make you even more wonderful.
…
Trauma. Oh, how I want to see you in pain. You will be so beautiful once you're broken, darling. I'm sure of it. I will mold you into the perfect victim.
…
Such vivacity…! Such a defiant look in your eyes…! You must think your friends will save you. I should crush that sense of hope you have.
…
First, the memory of that annoying guidance counselor must go. I never liked him, and his light kept me from finding you. I assume he gave you some prophecy. Revealing such things sets a timeline, preventing outside influences from rushing in or delaying.
So, let's just take every moment you've spent figuring out your classes and work backwards from there.
…
[Dark magic sounds]
Yes. Allow me to fill those memories with emptiness. The confusion and fear you felt upon learning that you are not and have never been human. But now, it's as if no one ever resolved it.
…
Next, all your classes should fade. I don't want you getting any bright ideas about fighting me. You'd only exhaust yourself, but for a fae, that can be risky. I won't let you deplete yourself of mana.
…
[Dark magic noise]
There. Not a single memory of your classes should remain. Go on, darling. Try to recall even one of your teachers.
…
That stunned expression of yours is so cute. I think it's time I allow you to see me. I want to hold you just a little too tightly, darling. I want to be the only one who can pick up the pieces of your broken heart.
…
Of course your heart is broken. I haven't even touched your memories of that boyfriend of yours and I can feel the betrayal. I'm almost jealous that he made you feel so low before I could get to you. You don't really forgive him, do you, darling?
…
(Sweetly)
Don't lie to me. I can see every last memory in your mind. I could tear your psyche apart to find everything you'd rather forget. I could stitch your thoughts back together incorrectly. I could fabricate new memories with ease. You wouldn't even know the difference. Like so:
[Flashback]
[Jackdaw]
Say that again, dead boy. I fucking dare you.
…
Silent, huh? Then I'll just keep these fingers and leave you to rot.
…
What the fuck are you looking at me like that for, pretty boy?
…
Aw, shit, I think a teacher's coming. Welp, no point in lying. We'll just come clean about what I did and why.
[Flashback ends]
[Demon]
I altered that memory, but you have no way of knowing how much I changed. Perhaps I only changed where you remember it happening. Perhaps I changed every word of it. It's all the same. Because you're still mad at him. And you lied about forgiving him.
…
No need to hide how you feel from me. I can taste it all.
…
I'm a memory demon, darling. Every single thought in your head is my domain. That's all memories are, after all. They're just thoughts in your head. Easily distorted even without my interference.
…
Are you upset, darling? Are you going to yell at me? Or perhaps just break down crying?
…
If you insist on pretending not to care, I'll just have to force you to show your emotions. Let me hold you close and…
[Flashback]
[Dorian]
Sunlight won't kill me. It doesn't even hurt. Vampires are just empowered by the night. And I've always disliked bright light.
…
Uh, no, we don't sparkle either. Gosh, where do you hear these things?
…
Garlic itself isn't an issue. It's the flowers from garlic plants that act as a ward.
…
Salt deters ghosts, not vampires.
…
(Slightly annoyed sigh)
You really have a lot of questions about vampires, huh?
[Flashback ends]
[Demon]
Dorian is difficult to read. He makes such an effort to hide how he feels, and it works. More or less.
…
I can tell you this: you make him uncomfortable when you focus on what he is rather than who. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine, darling. Personally, I wouldn't count on his friendship lasting. But what do I know?
…
And Chrysanthos. Poor Chrysanthos, your roommate and beloved best friend. If you didn't exist, I wouldn't have kidnapped him.
…
No, I'm blaming you. It was an action I took of my own free will. You did not even influence my decision knowingly. But the fact remains that your presence in this school led to this.
…
He's not the perfect angel you seem intent on thinking of him as. Here, I'll prove it with a completely unaltered memory.
[Flashback]
[Chrys]
You spend a lot of time with your boyfriend. Not that I'm mad about it. But I miss getting to chill with you.
…
You'll cancel the date? Really?
…
No takesies-backsies?
…
Fairy promise?
…
(A bit more satisfied than he should be)
Hell yeah. Then I want you to turn off your phone and just focus on us!
[Phone powers down]
[Flashback ends]
[Demon]
He goaded you into making an open promise, fully aware that you don't know all the rules of being a fae. He made you stand your date up and immediately forget. You must have let Jackdaw down.
…
I can't prove that I didn't alter it, but it doesn't matter if you believe it actually happened. All that matters is if you find it plausible for him.
…
Yes. Knock the dryad down from that pedestal you held him on. He was the one thing in my way.
…
It's simple. Memory alteration is best done to those already doubting everything. Now I can take everything I want and leave the bad, all so I can watch you squirm.
…
[Dark magic noises]
Perfect. You're nearly a blank slate. Just enough of you remains that I still find you oh, so beautiful.
…
You seem so lost, darling.
…
(Laugh)
No, I'm not your boyfriend. But I am the only person you still know, so perhaps that's close en—
[Roland]
Demon of the mind, listen to my words. I, Roland Apollyon, descendant of a divine being, have read your transgressions and have been charged with informing you of your expulsion, effective immediately.
[Demon]
(Attempting to sound angry, but coming off as frightened instead)
On what grounds?
[Roland]
Kidnapping two students is the most egregious, but not the only reason. You also don't attend your classes and have a history of destroying library books. You've been given several chances, but you have begun harming other students, and the faculty will no longer turn a blind eye. I cast you out, demon. Flee to wherever you choose, but you are hereby banished from the island of Terra Nova.
[Sound of the demon being banished]
I'm so sorry it took so long, changeling.
…
What's wrong? You… do recognize me, don't you?
…
Oh no. He's already taken so much, hasn't he? I can feel his power poorly patching over pieces of your soul, so to speak.
Please, if you would follow me. I want to… introduce you to some people you cared deeply about just a few hours ago.

Ciao a tutti, voglio un confronto a riguardo. Io (29F) e il mio ragazzo (31M) siamo insieme relativamente da poco tempo, circa 1 anno. Entrambi ingegneri ma di settori diversi (io aeronautico e lui industriale). Quella della posizione lavorativa è una premessa per farvi capire che bene o male lavoriamo nello stesso ambito.
Lui tende a lavorare molto, tanto. Torna a casa alle 20 almeno tre giorni su cinque, comincia a lavorare alle 7.30. Se torna “presto” la sera continua a lavorare, il sabato se lo concede libero e la domenica lavora fino alle 3 di notte ( partendo dal pomeriggio). Quando torna a casa è, giustamente, stanco e senza energie, spesso è ansioso e si isola. Ne parliamo, lo faccio sfogare ma dice che gli piace lavorare molto e gli piace quello che fa quindi per lui va tutto bene. In verità dall’esterno io vedo una persona in totale burn out: facciamo pochissimo sesso perché dice “ho la testa impegnata”, tende a consolarsi mangiando molto, è abbastanza distratto rispetto alla relazione (facendo un confronto con il periodo precedente), si isola dalla famiglia e dagli amici, anche quando sembra che non stia lavorando sta pensando al lavoro e risponde a mail varie, non si taglia i capelli, mette i vestiti sporchi di giorni, dorme vestito e si sveglia e va subito a lavoro con gli stessi vestiti. Questa storia va avanti da quasi metà del tempo della nostra relazione e sta cominciando a pesarmi un po’ perché mi sento trascurata. Mi dispiace molto per lui, ne abbiamo discusso tante volte e durante l’ultima discussione ha detto: “Per me è importante e non posso dare altro perché le mie energie sono per il lavoro, ma ti amo e voglio stare con te senza dubbio”. Non vorrei sembrare io la petulante, quella esagerata insomma. Vorrei si curasse più della sua salute anche.
Sono preoccupata perché ci tengo a lui ma vedo una situazione del genere come un vero motivo di rottura. Sarebbe egoista da parte mia? Sinceramente provo a stargli vicino ma oltre ad allontanarmi tende ad essere competitivo perché lavoro di meno (orari normali) e ottengo risultati discreti. Questa competizione lo porta un po’ ad essere cattivo certe volte mi rendo conto che ha perso la dolcezza che lo caratterizzava e che mi piaceva tanto.
Esperienze ?

Ciao a tutti, voglio un confronto a riguardo. Io (29F) e il mio ragazzo (31M) siamo insieme relativamente da poco tempo, circa 1 anno. Entrambi ingegneri ma di settori diversi (io aeronautico e lui industriale). Quella della posizione lavorativa è una premessa per farvi capire che bene o male lavoriamo nello stesso ambito.
Lui tende a lavorare molto, tanto. Torna a casa alle 20 almeno tre giorni su cinque, comincia a lavorare alle 7.30. Se torna “presto” la sera continua a lavorare, il sabato se lo concede libero e la domenica lavora fino alle 3 di notte ( partendo dal pomeriggio). Quando torna a casa è, giustamente, stanco e senza energie, spesso è ansioso e si isola. Ne parliamo, lo faccio sfogare ma dice che gli piace lavorare molto e gli piace quello che fa quindi per lui va tutto bene. In verità dall’esterno io vedo una persona in totale burn out: facciamo pochissimo sesso perché dice “ho la testa impegnata”, tende a consolarsi mangiando molto, è abbastanza distratto rispetto alla relazione (facendo un confronto con il periodo precedente), si isola dalla famiglia e dagli amici, anche quando sembra che non stia lavorando sta pensando al lavoro e risponde a mail varie, non si taglia i capelli, mette i vestiti sporchi di giorni, dorme vestito e si sveglia e va subito a lavoro con gli stessi vestiti. Questa storia va avanti da quasi metà del tempo della nostra relazione e sta cominciando a pesarmi un po’ perché mi sento trascurata. Mi dispiace molto per lui, ne abbiamo discusso tante volte e durante l’ultima discussione ha detto: “Per me è importante e non posso dare altro perché le mie energie sono per il lavoro, ma ti amo e voglio stare con te senza dubbio”. Non vorrei sembrare io la petulante, quella esagerata insomma. Vorrei si curasse più della sua salute anche.
Sono preoccupata perché ci tengo a lui ma vedo una situazione del genere come un vero motivo di rottura. Sarebbe egoista da parte mia? Sinceramente provo a stargli vicino ma oltre ad allontanarmi tende ad essere competitivo perché lavoro di meno (orari normali) e ottengo risultati discreti. Questa competizione lo porta un po’ ad essere cattivo certe volte mi rendo conto che ha perso la dolcezza che lo caratterizzava e che mi piaceva tanto.
Esperienze ?

Ever since I could remember myself, I was a cowardly person. Or, to formulate it in a lighter tone, I am prone to be scared.
Living in a rural area with few kids around my age to play with, we all knew each other in the town and our families were either relatives or friends. My childhood friends had noticed my fidgeting when we would go to darker places. The quickening of my breaths when entering an abandoned townhouse. Or, when going to the farms late at night to play hide and seek. While they picked on me from time to time, they didn't give me a hard time about it. They understood also that the world is dangerous enough so, having one person in your group who is too careful, keep the careless people in line.
I was very good in games; throwing stones with precision on target cans, chasing, dodgeball. However, I was exceptionally good at hide and seek and, being a scrawny little dude, was easy for me to fit in unlikely places. During the day I would go exploring on my own and, at night, I knew where the best hiding spots were that were not too dark or far from an inhabited house. Yet I could feel the fear once in a while. A sudden gust of wind whistling through broken branches, would be enough to make me very scared.
When I was around 8, I told my parents about my fear of the dark. They initially told me that I think too much of it but, as the months went by and they saw my everyday efforts to avoid dark corners and always having the lights turned on in my room, they grew concerned.
They asked me on whether I had a negative experience in my past while being in the dark. I didn't. I always had this fear that, in the dark, no one is truly alone. That something is there always, waiting to drop my guard. My grandmother, who happened to be in the house during this conversation, she was looking at me concerned and, at the same time, nodding at me. As in a way to tell me that my concerns were valid.
In the following years, I put a lot of effort in my academics and fitness. I signed up to a couple of self defense classes that boosted my confidence in myself, although I still remained thin and short. This fear of the dark, while it lessened, it never vanished even when I finished high school and was about to study at a college a bit too far from my homely town.
My grandmother, bless her soul, had visited us that fateful morning when I was preparing to move to the Uni dorms. She asked my parents that she wanted to talk to me in private and, while initially surprised, they did as she asked and went to carry my stuff in their car.
'My boy' she said with a calm tone, her brown eyes losing their usual joyful gleam 'living alone in a dark, cold city is different. I worked in that city and other cities for many years to bring food on the table. You dear grandfather also was a hard working man. He taught me how to protect myself. I never needed to use what he taught me. But, he also knew that there was one more thing that made me scared. Yes' she admitted as I looked at her surprised.
'The dark' she continued as I didn't interrupt her 'has always been a fear for me. I never had anything bad happen to me in it, but it always made me wary. You know how some stories go. Demons, ghouls, ghosts etc. We often hear that the true monster under the bed is human. But, what if it actually isn't?'
I nodded at her, my hands trembling a bit 'even going to a psychologist for this didn't help. Session after session, my fears got little yet they still are there.'
She nodded at that she gently took my trembling hands in hers. She was trembling a bit too.
'Maybe I have an issue or a curse that I passed it down on you, my darling Lukas. We all have problems. However, a few years ago, when your grandfather was in his deathbed for over two weeks, he told me to keep the lights open when it was night, every single night. He never liked to have them on next to his bed, which is why I had a night lamp always on my side of the bed and not his. Right there though, in that hospital room, he asked me that. I did so. He then told me he could sometimes see shadows in the hospital. And sometimes, those shadows didn't neither natural nor friendly.'
'Before he passed away, he gave me this cross to wear around my neck. It was a gift from his godfather. He told me, even during the war, that cross was his candle in the dark. He never took it off and he always felt that it gave him courage.'
She opened her woven bag and took the cross out. I inclined my head, understanding. She wore it on my neck and kissed the top of my head.
'Ever since I wore this cross, I felt more at ease when it would be dark. I stopped using my lamp from time to time. The fear was still there yet, I felt as if your grandfather was next to me, guarding me against whatever was lurking behind the dark curtain of the night. May it be your candle now, a small reminder that dawn always comes even after the darkest of nights.'
I thanked her profusely and we shed tears of farewell. I love her a lot and now I know one more reason why. She understood me completely.
It wasn't easy getting used to the city life. Working part time at a bakery and hustling through my engineering degree was taxing on my body. Yet, I had two cool roommates at the dorm and we kept each other good company in and out of the dorms.
I was on one hand, way of my surroundings, especially late at night when I could return home from a party. But I never got rid of my need for exploration. So I knew which routes and shortcuts to use at night, because I had already explored them during the day.
One such route however, was next to an abandoned, soon to be demolished hotel. While it was open for visitation as a soon to be demolishes historical landmark, that place gave me the chills since the first time I laid my eyes upon it. It had a very creepy vibe, the same type of vide I felt towards darkness; only this place made me feel actually nauseous when I was near it. As if something or someone really dangerous was lurking in its shadows of the night.
I tried to explore it during the day, to face my fear within its dusty beige and flowery decorated walls that started to smell of mold. Yet, that place was making me feel pure dread, even during the day. Its basement was the creepiest place I had visited in my life. Even during the hours of the day, I felt pure fear just being in there. In its gray walls and emptiness, I could feel a resounding presence.
What also didn't help were the local news, which were reporting disappearances of people every couple of months near that area. Since I heard those news, I never went to explore that building again. I even bought a pepper spray can, just in case, when I had to go even remotely near that place. It was right in the middle of my quickest route back home from the city center.
Every night, I used a different route to go home after a party. Every night.
Not that night two months ago. Because that was when I met some monsters.
It was a Friday night. The third year engineering students at Uni made a collab party with the philosophy third years. It was an interesting party and people really hit it off. My roommates, Josh and Chris, were also there, dancing and meeting new people. I was there just for the vibes. I had the next morning off at the bakery, so I just wanted to drink a couple of beers and chill. It was almost summer and we had no written exams except for written projects, to it was all good.
I decided to stroll back home at around 02:30 AM. My mates wanted to stay more so, I wished them a good time and went back on my own. It wasn't the first time I did that and I never encountered problematic strangers on the way home. Not this night.
I was halfway through on one of the paths I was using to go home. This path was dimly lit by a couple of street lights. Not many houses were around, only some shops that were closed for the night. I saw from afar three large looking men nudging a person between them. When I took a closer look, I felt terror in the pit of my stomach. That person was a young woman, no older than me. Under the street lamp, I could see that her hair were a mess and something was tricking down from the mouth. Blood. One of those brutes were choking her strong enough to make her not scream for help.
I was frozen stiff in fear. Quickly, I moved to the side, behind another street lamp. I sent my GPS coordinates to my mates and told them to call the police right now. Thankfully, they saw my message instantly. I then took pictures and a short video, showing how they were dragging the poor woman with them and I sent them to my friends.
While I was about to call the police myself, I stood appalled and terrified at what I was witnessing. She was putting up a fight and at one point, one of them punched her in the face.
That's what took me out of my terrified state. That woman was suffering and God knows what else those assholes would do to her. I couldn't rely solely on the police. Friday nights were the worst, the police department would have their hands full of burglaries and other crimes. It would take them at least ten minutes to respond and that might be too late for her.
So, I looked around me and saw some large stones. I put some in my pockets and threw the largest one at the direction of the men.
It hit the arm of one of them with a loud noise. As he turned around to see what was that, I threw another one that hit him square on his temple and he dropped on the pavement, unconscious.
'Come take on someone your size' I shouted as I threw one stone after another at the other two, hitting him n the shoulder.
I was good at aiming, too many games of dodgeball taught me how to be accurate with my throws.
The two assholes dropped the woman like a sack of potatoes on the ground and raced straight at me.
I felt the adrenaline hit me and, before I realized it, I was running full speed away from them, while glancing back and throwing them more stones.
They were screaming in anger as they were approaching me but I was speeding up. I could feel the vibrations in right pocket from my phone, but I couldn't answer right now. They were gaining on me, so I turned abruptly to my left and used a different path.
That path was leading near where the woman was lying and the third man was still down. I ran and saw that the young woman wasn't there anymore, but the man was still on the ground.
She escaped, I thought with glee as I ran and ran in the routs ahead of me. At one point though, I saw only one of them behind me.
Oh crap.
I then realized I was in the lot where that damn hotel was. And it had two ways out, if one of them was right behind me the other was right across me. The lot had no other ways out, it was like a cage because of smaller demolitions that needed to be done in some service buildings right outside the hotel. I looked at the threatening figures gaining on me. I froze for a second.
I could escape them by entering the hotel and exiting via the door in its basement. Yet I knew something dreadful was in there, in that basement.
Yet I thought, if something dreadful was in there, I shouldn't be afraid, not now. I needed to be strong. I lunged towards the hotel's entrance, my sudden change of course disorienting my pursuers. They soon followed after me.
I was faster than them now in the dark. Under the dim city lights, I could see quite clearly in front of me. I followed the dusty corridor to my right and went down the only set of stairs leading to the basement.
That's when I felt it. That's when I knew. Someone was in here, in the almost complete darkness of the basement. The only light that was entering was from the almost closed exit door. No windows, no lamps. When I ran towards the door on the right side of the basement, my feelings of dread and panic multiplied; there was a lock and chain on the door. I tried to open it but it wouldn't budge. I felt the darkness around me like a thick blanket ready to strangle me while also hearing footsteps on the floor above. The assholes were coming down here.
In that moment, I felt as if my life passed in front of me. There was no way out other than those stairs. If I tried to use them now, there was a high chance they would get me while they would come down here. And if they got me, I was a dead man, I knew it.
I felt my grandmother's cross over my beating heart. I wasn't alone. I felt a soft feeling of relief and bravery engulfing my trembling limbs. I took a deep breath and, in the pitch black darkness, the city lights showed me a bunch of desks and chairs towards the left corner of the large room.
Those weren't here two years ago. I ran towards them, despite an alarming feeling of fear that hit me when I looked towards the dark, left corned. I hid in between some of them offices. They were large and heavy desks and I found a small nook between two of the ones further to the front to hide in it. People in hide and seek always look for the furthest, darkest corners, not the up front, obvious hiding places.
I held my breath. I then took deep breaths to calm myself down. Beads of sweat feel on my forehead, my shirt was drenched. I felt the ground beneath me and felt something like a heavy brick. I took it in my right hand. If they were to find me or catch me while running away, I wouldn't go down without a fight.
I took my phone out, texted my location to my friends but I had no signal. Damn it. I checked my other pocket. I had a couple of stones left. Maybe I could use them to distract them.
The steps got closer to the stairs. I breathed shakily, then slowly, then silently. My heart was pumping in terror as I saw the two men enter the basement.
In that moment, my vision got darker. As if, the darkness in the basement was thicker, heavier. I felt the cross on my chest become heavy and warm. I raised my left hand and, to my amazement and horror, I felt that the cross was almost too hot to hold. Something was very wrong in this place.
The men entered the basement. One of them was lighting up the place and checking the desks one by one, while the other was guarding the stairs.
I didn't think that far, they did. If they find me-
The cross was now burning in my grasp but I didn't let go. I was suddenly feeling all my senses to scream at me to run away from something infinitely more terrible than those two monsters.
'Come out you piece of shit' the dude in front of the stairs shouted, gasping for air 'we will find you and we will have our sweet time taking turns beating you up, little punk.'
His voice was deep and was threatening, but it didn't matter. I wanted to shout at them to run away. I didn't know what it was. I looked through the small crack in front of me.
I froze. My limbs felt suddenly paralyzed. On the left corner of the room, from where I was standing close to a few minutes ago, was a figure. It was tall, abnormally tall. It was wearing a top hat and a tux, yet I couldn't see arms from the sleeves. It had its back towards the room. But I felt it. It wasn't human.
'Whoa' I heard the dude standing in front of the stairs when his phone's light centered on that figure. His buddy also audibly gasped.
'Who the fuck is that' one of them asked and the other just shrugged his shoulders.
The room's felt darker and darker by the second, the light from their phones started to flicker.
'Sir, we are looking for a scrawny ass punk. He is our friend-'
'Is he a friend like that woman you were planning to have your way with a few minutes ago?'
My body now was completely numb. My hand was on my cross and I felt it burn. It was the only thing that reminded me that this was real. That male voice was smooth, almost intoxicating to listen to. But it also felt as if it was a guttural growl from a beast.
'Or that poor old couple you killed two weeks ago? Or that young father you found near your turf and shot on the back? Should I go on?'
The two dudes looked suddenly terrified. One of them pulled a gun out of his pocket.
'Who the fuck are you?!'
The figure slowly turned and that's when I screamed.
There was unending darkness in those empty sockets for eyes, except for an alarming gleam reminiscent of the light of a hunter's moon. The nose was abnormally big and sharp, the face of the skin gray, wrinkled and decaying. And, its mouth was terrifyingly wide, with countless black teeth forming a horrific smile that was pointed towards me.
The men gasped loudly, one dropping his phone, the other looking towards my direction and then towards that thing.
In the last flicker of his phone's light, the figure disappeared from the corner and appeared in front of the two now terrified men.
As they started screaming and shooting at it, I saw that thing's upper limbs exiting the tux's sleeves, boney and black from rotten flesh, piercing the head of the dude with the gun. It then tore off the head and threw it to the side, while its mouth took a bite from the headless corpse's neck.
The other man screamed bloody murder, but the beast pierced his chest with its limbs and dragging him towards it, muffled screams and blood gurgling and bone crunching were the only sounds in the basement. The screams were soon gone, the gurgling was gone, the bones crunching sounds disappeared. That thing ate both of them and I saw it all, under the dimness of the city lights from the basement's door and under the flickering of their phones' torches.
Not even the bones remained, not even a drop of blood. I was trembling in fear, tears coming down my eyes. I was next.
The figure stood. It looked at me, those horrific eyes piercing my own. I felt it hated me in that moment. That thing wanted to tear me to pieces.
In an enraged voice, stripped from all the smoothness and the inviting tone of before, that thing growled.
'If it wasn't for that thing you have around your neck, I'd have you for dessert.'
The figure disappeared in a black smog.
I don't know how long I was in that nook. I don't know how many hours of shock my brain tried to process. It was way after 6 AM that I saw the light of dawn piercing through the basement door. I mustered the courage to crawl out of my hiding spot. I stood up, my mind hazy and dizzy, my limbs trembling from weakness and tiredness. I approached the stairs, not daring to look to my left.
Not even a drop of blood was there. Only their dropped, crushed phones. Their torches were still on. I left them there.
I looked behind me, towards that corner. I could feel it was there. Now invisible under the light of day, but waiting.
'Goodbye, Lukas'.
I felt terror again in my heart. It knew my name. I ran as fast as I could up the stairs, not looking back, I ran and ran and ran, until I reached in front of my dorms.
I entered my room and my friends were there. They looked at me relieved and came to hug me.
I hugged them back, crying harder than I ever did before. The terror gave its place in overwhelming relief. I don't remember how I got into the shower and then went to the police station to give a testimony of the events.
I met the woman who was assaulted at the police station. Thankfully, she wasn't severely injured by those brutes and she was already treated at the hospital. When she saw me, she rushed to come close to me and hugged me, thanking me for helping her. She had managed to run away to a nearby pub and soon after, she contacted also the police.
The police had already arrived on the spot where my friends had instructed them to go, based on the coordinates I sent to them in that message. They arrested that man. After I left the basement and my phone gained signal, my friends sent them the coordinates of the hotel that they had just received. They also checked the hotel, except for the phones, they found nothing from the other two criminals.
I knew though. As I recounted with the woman and the police the events of that night, I knew what happened to those two. Yet I didn't say anything about what that thing did to them. No one would believe me. Those men were wannabe monsters who met their end by the hands of an actual monster.
I am now in my room, the lights turned on. Every whistle of the wind outside, makes me flinch and look around. Every shadow I see in the corners makes me terrified. I still remember those hollow, dark eyes with that horrible orange gleam. I don't know if I ever feel ok.
But suddenly, I reminded myself. I looked at my left palm. The burnt imprint of my grandmother's cross was there, the only reminder of the reality of what happened. And the reminder that in my hour of need, in that thick, murderous darkness, I wasn't alone. I touched the cross over my chest, my candle in the dark. I pulled it towards my temple and, for the first time in my life, I prayed.
I prayed in gratitude. I was alive. That woman was alive. The two criminals were dead. The third was behind bars.
But the monster was in that basement, lurking, waiting for its next victim.
I just hope that, when that building is demolished, that thing will stay in the shadows under the rubbles, forever.

Previous Posts
Grayson kept his promise and came over to talk with me. He arrived after classes for both of us were done for the day. It also meant that Cassie was home and this time, she didn’t vanish into her bedroom to give us privacy. She waited until we were both seated in the living room and Titanosaur was settled in Grayson’s lap, thereby preventing him from escaping.
Please don’t read too much into that, as I’ve said before Titanosaur has like three brain cells and will sit in literally anyone’s lap. Our landlady sent her husband over to fix the leaking faucet in the bathroom and Titan was trying to climb in his lap while the poor guy was sitting there with half his body inside of a cabinet.
Then Cassie came over, carrying a chair from the kitchen, and also seated herself with us. I glanced at Grayson. He looked dismayed, but was hiding it well in an effort to be polite. I decided to lean into my non-confrontational side and not ask her to leave.
“You’ve been acting a bit out of character lately,” I began delicately. “As a friend, I’m worried about you.”
“And I’m worried too,” Cassie added. “Maybe you don’t think of me as a friend, but you’ve been hanging out around Ashley enough that I consider you one of mine.”
Huh. I wasn’t expecting that, to be honest. I thought Cassie didn’t like him. I don’t think she was lying, either.
“Have you considered getting grief counseling?” she continued.
Straight to the point. I was glad Cassie was there. My plan was to tiptoe delicately around the subject for what probably would have been another 500 words worth of dialogue here in this post I’m writing up. Fortunately, Cassie’s willingness to address a problem directly saved me the typing and you the tedium.
“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,” Grayson said. “The university doesn’t know he’s gone yet.”
“Who is running this place?” Cassie asked in amazement.
I know. We’ve all been thinking it. Turns out the answer is ‘there’s a board’ and they make all the real decisions. The president is just a figurehead. Which is pretty obvious if you stop and think about it. I wanted to ask if the flickering man reported to the board but I also didn’t want to derail the conversation with things that really didn’t matter anymore. It’s safer to just assume the board is the administration I’ve been wondering about this whole time. Heck, it’s safer to assume everyone except for the students and professors are responsible in some part for the whole monster situation.
Sorry for not finding out for certain, but Grayson was working through some important stuff and I didn’t dare interrupt.
“I don’t want counseling, either,” he continued. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I never cared for him. Not in a familial sense. My presence was more to fill a role.”
Things were starting to connect in my head. This conversation reminded me of some things the flickering man had said. Roles to be filled. A cycle, ushering in new students to fill them. They’d been filling the president’s role with a corpse - a very old one, judging by the date on the photo Cassie took of the headstone - so perhaps that wasn’t the only role being filled.
“Were you adopted?” I asked. “By the president?”
“I was.”
Beside me, Cassie took a deep breath. It wasn’t from shock. It sounded more like… annoyance. If I’m being generous with the term.
“The flickering man said something to me,” I said slowly. “That I wasn’t the first person he’d seen like this and I wouldn’t be the last. Are you… not the only child that the president has adopted?”
“...I’m not.”
This is the point where Cassie just lost it. Stood up, yelled ‘why the fuck didn’t you tell us any of this?!’ and stormed out of the room. She slammed the door to her bedroom shut behind her. Grayson and I sat there in the living room for a good minute, stunned, listening to what I’m 99% certain was Cassie screaming into her pillow. Then the door opened and she returned to calmly sit down on the sofa again.
“I’m good,” she said. “All better. Please continue.”
The details of the conversation get a little fuzzy at this point, as it seems that even though the forgetter is gone I’m still having memory issues. Unfortunately Grayson was right - it wasn’t the forgetter that was responsible for my particular variety of memory loss. There’s something else trying to protect Grayson.
I suspect the tree in the graveyard. Its roots have spread all over campus, after all.
Sorry to be so blase about this but it’s not actually that upsetting anymore. It’s just this thing we’re dealing with.
It’s a good thing Cassie was present for the rest of the conversation. She filled me in on the details later, after we’d confirmed that I had some significant gaps. Grayson explained a bit more about the whole adoption thing. He didn’t know who his birth parents were. He’d never been outside of this town and basically grew up on campus. This is all kind of recapping what we already knew or guessed at, but the adoption angle was new at least. I’d assumed that his dad had died and been replaced, which he had, except it wasn’t his dad at all and Grayson’s role as the son was being replaced over and over also.
Which is all kinds of fucked up.
It also means that this has been going on for generations and I think we all know why that’s rather alarming.
“What happened to the previous adopted kids?” I asked once we’d gotten through this rather confusing summary.
“They died.”
There was a heavy silence in the room.
“How?” I asked.
“Well… one drowned. Another suffocated.” He hesitated. “This is kind of why I’m reluctant to tell people I’m the president’s son.”
“Grayson, are you worried someone will try to kill you?” Cassie asked flatly.
“...yeah. I am, actually.”
Screaming into a pillow myself was starting to look pretty tempting.
Now I’m sure you’re all thinking what I was thinking at this point. If the university was just recycling the president’s corpse and finding new children to play the role of their child for… reasons??? then perhaps that was why the flickering man was interested in me. Perhaps I was Grayson’s replacement, as many of you have theorized.
I mean, it seems pretty suspicious. Grayson’s dad is getting his soul replaced on the regular - or at least, he was. Grayson himself is a replacement for prior Graysons but I guess since they don’t need an adult, they’re just grabbing any ol’ kid to fill the role for a while. But the former Graysons keep dying because the inhumans get him? Grayson has a lot of protection on campus but he’s not immune - I’ve watched him get attacked by the steam ghost in particular.
Which leads me to my own theory. If I am a replacement, I don’t fit the mold. Perhaps that’s why the flickering man hated me so much. I’m too old (legal adult yay) and… I’m not a son.
But I wanted to confirm some things.
We wrapped up the conversation with Grayson because we were running out of mental capacity to ask more questions. He was clearly uncomfortable and there was a lot to process. He did promise to not be so difficult about this in the future. He wasn’t really grieving. He was just… uncertain. He didn’t know what to do anymore. Which is fair. When you’re raised to fill a role and suddenly that role is gone it’s hard to adjust.
I know what that feels like.
After Grayson left I messaged Maria asking if she knew anyone that was good with a camera. Like, really good. And also good in high stress situations. She got back to me pretty quickly. Maria is starting to become one of those people who knows everyone. She’s heading firmly down the road of becoming the subject of one of those unhinged tumblr posts where someone magically summons an army of people to fulfill a task, while she stays on the sidelines quietly directing the ever-increasing chaos.
Fortunately, she’s not there quite yet, but she is freakishly well-connected for a campus of this size. Within an hour she had me in a group chat with someone from the Folklore Society who fit all my requirements, even the unspoken ones. Someone that was good with a camera in “hostile circumstances” (her words, very accurate) and wouldn’t cut and run the moment things got a little weird. I think you all see where I was going with this.
Yeah, we were going to get photos of something inhuman.
DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.
For starters, it’s not safe just getting close to an inhuman to photograph it. And once you do, that opens a whole new set of hazards. If the inhuman takes offense to being photographed, then they’re going to do anything they have to to get the photo destroyed and all rules are off the table when it comes to disguising their existence. Think of it like this - an inhuman might not be able to enter a house due to hospitality rules keeping them out, but this is weighed against their need to keep their presence obscured. The latter wins. Hospitality rules are no longer enough protection.
That’s my understanding, at least.
And sure, there are inhumans that don’t seem to care if a photo or two are leaked to the internet, but you have no way of knowing in advance. Let’s say you get lucky and nothing comes after you to destroy the phone/camera, computer, your social media accounts, and you. You’re not quite off the hook. That photo is a connection to the inhuman and if the creature captured in it doesn’t use it as an access point, something else might.
Photos are just a bad idea all around.
So we agreed that if we were going to go ahead with this stupid plan, we’d do so with as many safety measures as we could. First, the person taking the photo would be fully informed on the potential consequences. I was hoping that they could just teach Maria or I how to use a camera, but considering they were in the inner circle Folklore Society (what I’m calling the folks that know the monsters aren’t just stories) they wanted to come in person. I tried to talk them out of it, they finally made a snarky comment about if I wanted them to sign a waiver, and I dropped the topic.
Secondly, we were going to destroy both the photo and the camera afterwards. I got online and ordered the cheapest digital camera I could find. It was a camera designed for young children so it was pastel pink with teddy bears on it, but whatever, it was digital and didn’t cost over $30. The money from my job at the dining hall has helped with the finances but I didn’t particularly feel like lighting it on fire.
Especially since we planned to literally light the camera on fire when we were done. I wasn’t looking forward to the smell of burning plastic but fire is both a thorough and symbolically traditional way to dispose of things. Like I said, we were trying to do this as safely as we could.
The camera arrived the next day so we decided to go ahead with our plan that evening. Cassie would stay home because we felt having too many people might be a hindrance if we had to bail out. Also, she had “digital date night” with her girlfriend and I didn’t want to interfere.
Then we found a discreet entrance to the steam tunnels.
I wanted a photograph of the steam ghost. It had a face. I wanted to see what that face looked like.
I’d scouted out the steam tunnel entrances beforehand, while waiting for the burner (lol) camera to arrive. Last time I’d looked inside, they were clogged with roots. However, if the roots were originating from the graveyard, then perhaps the parts of campus that were farthest away would be clear enough to traverse. I got lucky and found an entrance inside of one of the dorms that’s out by the parking lot. The lobby is open and from there it’s easy enough to just coast into the stairwell behind someone with a keycard and then down into the basement. There were roots, but they hung from the ceiling as slender tendrils that brushed the top of my head like the faint touch of a moth. I didn’t go far inside. Just enough to confirm it didn’t get any worse and we had a long corridor free of obstruction.
When I came back, I had Maria and the photographer with me.
His name is Jacob and he’s a sophomore. He joined the Folklore Society because he realized he wasn’t making any attempts to be social, at college of all places, and picked a club that seemed like it would be small so he didn’t have to deal with crowds. Large groups of people intimidated him. I can certainly relate to that.
I feel bad for him. Imagine getting caught up in all this bullshit just because you had trouble making friends.
It also occurred to me that this photography excursion was also part of his attempt to make friends, because that’s what landed him in the group that had to hide from the thing in the hallway. Whatever. Maria can deal with that. She’s the extrovert.
“Let’s not forget the plan,” I said nervously as we gathered outside the door. “We get in. We get the photo. We run like hell back out the door.”
I’m happy to say that the plan worked. Every step. Swear to god.
We were about halfway to where the tunnel turned when the steam started to rise out of the ground around us. It seeped through the walls, filling our lungs and making it hard to breathe. The usual. We turned back at that point, as we wanted to be close to the exit so we could snap the photo and run once the steam ghost showed up.
The nice thing about inhumans is that they can be predictable. They have set rules they follow and so long as you follow the prescribed pattern of behavior, you know what to expect. This allows you to plan, as I’d done. So when we loitered within sprinting distance of the door, the steam ghost obliged to show up and chase us off.
Just as expected. And Jacob was ready with our pastel pink camera, so that when its face materialized out of the steam, mouth open in a silent scream and its misty hands stretched towards us, he was able to snap a photo.
Then we ran and reached the door before it caught up.
See? Exactly as planned.
There’s one more rule we learned about though. One that I’d forgotten to factor in for this crucial moment.
The doors in the steam tunnels don’t always open to the same place.
We tumbled through without thinking. I, pulling up the rear, had a moment of hesitation when I saw nothing but darkness ahead of me, but it was too late, I was in a full sprint and besides, Maria had already stumbled through the doorway. I slammed into Jacob’s back, propelling him the few steps he needed to be past the doorway, and then we were all through and the door slammed shut behind us.
The air was warm and damp. The steam tunnels, while warm, aren’t damp unless the steam ghost is present. This felt like being inside of a sauna. I could feel water beads forming on my arms, clinging to the hairs that were currently standing on end in alarm. There was a faint breeze coming from ahead of us, a slowly rhythmic flow to it like a fan. It did nothing to alleviate the heat. If anything, it was even warmer.
Maria turned her phone’s flashlight on.
We were in a corridor, much the same size as the tunnel we’d just escaped. The walls glistened with moisture, shining with the gray-pink color of rotting beef. There were no sharp angles, just a round passageway that vanished into darkness at the edge of Maria’s flashlight beam. The floor beneath our feet was slightly squishy.
And it was full of teeth.
Honestly I think I would have preferred sharp teeth, like an animal’s fangs or something out of science fiction. Instead, we got human incisors, circling the entirety of the tunnel in regular intervals.
The tunnel rippled. There was a faint gurgling sound, like the rumbling of a stomach twisting in hunger. And those rows of teeth began to tighten as the tunnel constricted around us.
“STEAM GHOST,” Maria yelled. “I CHOOSE THE STEAM GHOST.”
And she threw the door behind us open and dove back into the tunnel. Jacob grabbed my arm and dragged me along with him, as I was frozen in fear, staring at all those glistening ivory teeth. I stumbled over the doorframe and fell forwards, hitting the cement floor hard on all fours. I heard the door slam shut behind me. Frantically, I looked up at the tunnel.
No ghost. But the steam was still there, hanging heavy in the air and filling my lungs. The ghost would be back. I was certain of that.
“What now?!” Jacob asked, his earlier calm quickly giving way to panic.
“Try the door again!” I said, scrambling to my feet. “It changes!”
Maria spun around and opened the door a sliver for the second time, just enough to peer through the crack and confirm what was on the other side.
“FUCK.”
Then she slammed it shut. Opened it. Another burst of profanity, slightly more panicked than the last explicative. Meanwhile, Jacob and I cowered at her back, staring at the steam that hung thick in the air all around us, waiting to see if it was going to reform into a malevolent spirit while Maria played Russian roulette with the door.
She did this five times before she finally got the dorm we’d entered through.
Flushed and panting, we stumbled through and Jacob kicked the door to the steam tunnels shut with a determined flourish. There. We’d done it. As I’d said, our plan went perfectly. We got the photo and ran like hell to the door.
Didn’t plan on what happened after we went through the door. This is my lack of attention to detail coming into play, which is probably what also made me a shitty barista.
We crowded around Jacob to see the photo he got. This is why we recruited someone with actual photography skills. He was able to use a truly shitty camera intended for toddlers to somehow focus on a literal ghost’s face in the handful of seconds we had before it reached us, all while not panicking.
Staring at us from the tiny screen was a person’s face. Not a face made of steam. An actual flesh and blood human face. The rest of the shot was obscured by steam, framing it so that all we could see was this disembodied human face staring out at us from the camera’s digital screen. The expression was placid, the eyes hollow and devoid of emotion.
I’d seen this look before, on the library ghost. This distant stare of something that wasn’t wholly here.
“That is… really creepy,” Jacob said.
“We just escaped a hallway full of teeth and this is what you find creepy?” I said.
“No, that was creepy too. I can be terrified by multiple things at once.”
We all stared at the photo for a good few minutes, trying to commit the face to memory because we were not going to retain any copies of it. Then Jacob deleted the photo, handed me the camera, and we awkwardly went our separate ways.
I got out my phone as soon as we’d all walked off. My theory was looking plausible, but there was one more thing I could do to confirm I was on the right track.
I texted Grayson. I asked him if the children before him, the ones the president adopted, were all male.
They were.
The library ghost. The stabbed student. And now… the steam ghost.
All former students. All male. All trapped on campus after their deaths.
And for at least two of them, they seemed to have something against Grayson.
They don’t like Grayson because he replaced them.
Update: HOLY SHIT Y’ALL BATTERIES EXPLODE WHEN YOU SET THEM ON FIRE

At the world’s top college of magic and technology, every day brings a new discovery -and a new disaster. The advanced experiments of the college students tend to be both ambitious and apocalyptic, with the end of the world only prevented by a mysterious time loop, and a small handful of students who retain their memories.
Surviving the loops was hard enough, but now, in his senior year, Vell Harlan must take charge of them, and deal with the fact that the whole world now knows his secrets. Everyone knows about Vell’s death and resurrection, along with the divine game he is a part of. Now Vell must contend with overly curious scientists and evil billionaires hungry for divine power while the daily doomsday cycle bombards him with terrorists, talking elephants, and the Grim Reaper himself -but if he can endure it all, the Last Goddess’s game promises the ultimate prize: power over life itself.
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“Should I be worried?”
Why would you be worried?” Kim said. “Dean Lichman loves us.”
Dean Lichman had asked the two of them to stop by his office, though his brief message had not said what for. That left Vell to concoct nightmare scenarios in his head.
“He doesn’t love all of us.”
“Alex doesn’t count as ‘us’,” Kim said. She was a looper in purely a technical sense, mostly due to her own refusal to be a team player. “Besides, she’s been behaving lately. She’s only been an asshole, not an active liability.”
“That we know of.”
“If we don’t know about it, Dean probably doesn’t either,” Kim said. “It’s fine, Vell, he probably just wants to ask us for advice or deal with some problem he has.”
“That’s not much better,” Vell said. “How weird would things have to be that the Dean is asking us for help personally?”
“Only one way to find out,” Kim said. She gestured to the door to the Dean’s office.
Kim entered first, and found it in much the same state as it always was. The desk piled high with paperwork, a small bowl of assorted candies shoved into the corner of the desk, and Dean Lichman behind it, frantically tapping away on a laptop. Vell had not been in this office for several years, and it was vastly different than the last time he’d been here.
“Ah, there you are, come in, have a seat,” Dean Lichman said. “Unless you’d rather we have our conversation elsewhere, Vell.”
“Why would I want that?”
“Well, it’s my understanding you haven’t been in this office since my, uh, predecessor,” Dean Lichman said.
“Oh, right, the kidnapping,” Vell said. “No, I’m good, I don’t really get traumatized by things anymore.”
Vell had been killed too many different ways in too many different places to have a functional trauma response. A few days ago he’d gotten his legs chewed off by a vending machine, and still stopped by it to pick up a soda on his way to the office.
“That’s a very concerning response, Mr. Harlan.”
“Yeah. Anyway, what did you need?”
Dean Lichman gestured for the duo to take a seat, and both did so. He folded desiccated hands in front of himself before beginning to speak.
“I would like to ask you two to take a look at an experiment that will be occurring later this week,” Dean Lichman said. “I don’t have any reason to believe it poses a threat, but I would like to be assured it is a safe and ethical environment, and, well, you two have a knack for identifying trouble spots.”
“You could say that,” Kim said. It was more accurate to say that trouble had a way of identifying them -and then leaping at them and ripping their heads off.
“I’d appreciate it if the two of you could simply examine the laboratory and give it your approval, or disapproval, as the case may be,” Dean Lichman said. “Though if you’re too busy, I fully understand.”
“If you don’t think this is dangerous, why are you asking for our help anyway?”
“Simply for my own peace of mind, frankly,” Dean Lichman said. “The school’s policies on animal experimentation are...satisfactory, I suppose, but I do want to take extra precautions when the subject is a creature as smart as an elephant.”
“An elephant?”
“Yes, a resident of a reserve in Thailand,” Dean Lichman said. “An older elephant by the name of Mae Noi. She has cancer, apparently, and she is submitting to experimental treatment in the hopes it will be useful for younger elephants.”
Kim’s digital face briefly flashed with a facial expression of concerned skepticism.
“‘She’ is submitting to treatment? As in the elephant?”
“Yes. Apparently the elephant can talk,” Dean Lichman said. “No, I don’t know how it works, they said it was ‘more impressive in person’.”
“Well now I kind of want to go just to see the talking elephant,” Vell said.
“Same.”
“Well, do try to take a few glances at the experiment’s safety while you’re there,” Dean Lichman said.
“Sounds like a plan,” Vell said. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“I’ll be there too,” Kim said.
“Excellent. Thank you both, and I’ll try not to take up too much of your time,” the Dean said. He then bid them both a polite goodbye and returned to his mountains of paperwork. Vell took a step out of the office and then took a sip from the soda he’d recently retrieved from the evil vending machine.
“So, what do you think?”
“I think I really do want to see the talking elephant,” Kim said.
“Obviously, yeah, we all want to see the talking elephant,” Vell said. “I mean the whole situation. You think the elephant thing is going to be the daily apocalypse for that day?”
“Well, on the one hand, an elephant seems like the kind of thing that would kill us,” Kim said. “But on the other, I feel like the fact we have advance warning means it’s not going to happen.”
“True. The universe probably wouldn’t make it that easy for us.”
“Yeah, but the elephant thing still feels pretty threatening,” Kim said. “Only way to find out is to wait a few days, I guess.”
A FEW DAYS LATER
“Hello you two,” Dean Lichman said. “And Hawke.”
“Hey,” Hawke said.
“He also wanted to see the talking elephant,” Kim explained.
“Well, that’s not a problem, it was an open invitation,” Dean Lichman said.
“Thanks. Still, sorry for not saying I was going to show up in advance,” Hawke said. “It took me a long time to make up my mind whether I was more interested in or afraid of a talking elephant.”
“They are rather large, aren’t they? I suppose that could be intimidating.”
“I’m okay with elephants on their own, it’s the talking part that doesn’t sit right with me,” Hawke said. “What if the elephant doesn’t like me? What if I’m the first person to ever get insulted by an elephant?”
“You’re less afraid of getting trampled by an elephant than insulted by one?”
“I’m a little afraid of trampling, but elephants are chill,” Hawke explained. “They wouldn’t attack unless provoked. I kind of feel like one might call me a dipshit unprovoked, though.”
“You have oddly specifics fears, Mr. Hughes,” Dean Lichman said.
“Yeah.”
In spite of those fears, Hawke happily stepped through the door to the zoology lab. It did not take a long time to locate the elephant in the room, as it was a literal elephant. The towering pachyderm was in a makeshift pen in the center of the lab, with an ample supply of food and a strange pedestal in front of her.
“Dr. Chanthara,” Dean Lichman said, with a polite wave to one of the researchers in the room. “Good to see you. These are the students I told you about.”
“Hm. Nice to meet you,” Dr. Chanthara said. He was, perhaps not unreasonably, skeptical of why three seemingly random students were in charge of a safety inspection. The fact that one of the three was a robot made him even more skeptical.
“Hi, nice to meet you too, and, uh, don’t mind us,” Vell said. “We just have an eye for weird things other people might miss.”
“Sure. I- wait. Aren’t you that kid who got chosen by a god?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Vell said. “And her too, technically.”
Kim shrugged. She didn’t care for any extra attention on that point.
“Right,” Chanthara said. He was beginning to see why these students might know their stuff. “I suppose we should start by introducing you to Mae Noi. Say hello, Mae.”
The elephant shifted on her feet and poked her trunk at the wide pedestal in front of her twice.
“Hello. Friends,” a synthesized voice droned. Vell stepped a little closer to the pedestal, just enough to see that there were an array of buttons on the side facing Mae Noi.
“Oh, it’s kind of like a keyboard,” Vell said. He’d seen similar things used with dogs, though usually in a much simpler fashion. Mae Noi seemed to have a few dozen buttons at her disposal.
“Smart,” Mae Noi said, with another prod of her trunk.
“We initially put it into our sanctuary as a bit of a novelty, something elephants could choose to interact with,” Dr. Chanthara explained. “Mae Noi took to it a bit better than most. Especially once she found out she could use it to ask for food.”
“Food. Pumpkin. Pumpkin. Pumpkin.”
“No, Mae, no food until after experiment,” Dr. Chanthara scolded.
“Experiment,” Mae Niko said with a prod. “Pumpkin.”
“Yes, experiment then pumpkin,” Dr. Chanthara said.
“That’s not really a talking elephant, is it?” Hawke said.
“It’s more talking than most elephants,” Dr. Chanthara said.
“Elephant. Smart,” Mae Niko said. “Smart.”
“Yes, uh, right, elephant smart,” Hawke said. He took a step back, to avoid any further offense and any further risk of being insulted by Mae Noi.
“You’re very impressive, Mae, don’t mind him,” Kim said. “How many words does she know?”
“Our platform back home has around three hundred words, though she’s still learning some of them,” Dr. Chanthara said. “The ‘travel’ version we put together only has a hundred, just enough to make sure she can get her basic needs met and communicate about the experiment.”
“Right, speaking of, I do believe we should put some time into our reason for being here,” Dean Lichman interjected. “You’re welcome to stick around afterwards, at Dr. Chanthara and Mae Noi’s discretion, of course, but we should get underway.”
“We probably should get to business, yeah,” Kim said. She tapped the side of her metal head. “I’m going to scan the lab. Vell, you talk to the elephant and make sure everything’s above-board.”
“Abov- oh, right,” Vell said. “Sorry, not exactly used to being able to ask animals if they agree to animal experimentation.”
“Experiment,” Mae said.
“Yeah, experiment,” Vell said, as he turned to Mae. “So, Mae Noi, this experiment might hurt, do you know that?”
“Experiment. Hurt. Elephant,” Mae Noi prodded. “Experiment. Help. Elephant. Help. Baby.”
“Help baby?”
“Baby. Baby. Elephant. Sick. Baby. Sick.”
“We’ve explained the nature of her condition to Mae Noi as best we can,” Dr. Chanthara said. “She has several children, and is concerned they might be similarly affected.”
“Help. Baby,” Mae Noi said. “Experiment. Help.”
The way Mae Noi frantically tapped the buttons tugged at Vell’s heartstrings, but he choked those emotions down.
“So you want to do this experiment to help baby, got it,” Vell said. “Even if it hurts you?”
“Elephant. Old,” Mae Noi said. “Hurt. Okay. Help. Baby.”
“Huh. Well, that does sound like informed consent to me,” Vell said. “Passes ethical muster, at least.”
The campus rules allowed students to be experimented on, with their consent, so Vell saw no reason not to apply the same standard to an elephant.
“You speak up if you change your mind about the experiment, okay?”
“Stop. Stop. Stop,” Mae said, mashing the same button a few times. “Yes.”
“You got it. I’m going to go help my friends check things out,” Vell said. “Good talking to you, Mae.”
“Good. Talk. Friend,” Mae said. She waved goodbye with her trunk, and Vell waved back. He wandered away from Mae Noi’s pedestal and found Kim and Hawke carefully examining rows of beakers and various other supplies.
“Nothing sus yet, boss,” Hawke said.
“Nothing caustic, mutagenic, or explosive?”
“Well, something mutagenic, but it’s supposed to be,” Kim said. She had scanners built into her body much like those that had once been in Vell’s glasses, allowing her to analyze the complex chemical formulas at a glance. “They’re going for some gene editing similar to what we’ve tried to do on human cancer patients. Low success rate, but not harmful. Some adaptations to work on elephants, of course.”
“Run it by any of our chemistry and biology student friends yet?”
“A few,” Kim said. “Haven’t gotten anything back yet, though.”
“Maybe run it by Skye, too,” Vell said. “She’d recognize anything that’d mutate an animal.”
“She does love to mutate things,” Kim said.
“Benevolently,” Vell insisted. “Just show her. I’m going to check for any stray equipment.”
The presence of an unusually large test subject had resulted in the lab being rearranged and reshuffled, so Vell did a quick scan for any misplaced equipment that might pose a threat. He found, to his surprise, a tidy and well-organized environment, with any and all extraneous materials securely locked away. There wasn’t so much as a shrink ray out of place. Vell did another loop just to be sure, but returned to his friends empty-handed.
“This place has less safety hazards than my lab,” Vell said. Hawke stared at him for a while.
“Why does your lab have safety hazards?’
“I do runecarving, there’s like, hammers and chisels,” Vell said. “Those can hurt people.”
“Mm, true,” Hawke said. “So you really didn’t find anything?”
“Nothing,” Vell said. “This place is secure as I’ve ever seen a lab be.”
“It’s like I said,” Kim began. “We got an actual warning about it, so obviously nothing’s going to go wrong. That’d be too easy.”
“Maybe,” Vell said. “Things can get teleported in, or someone could cast a spell, or something.”
“Yeah, but that applies to anywhere, at any time,” Kim said.
“Kim’s right,” Hawke said. “I say we go business as usual.”
“I guess,” Vell said. “We have to branch out a little, at least. Can’t keep an eye on one room all day.”
The trio stopped sulking around the outskirts of the lab and returned to Dean Lichman and Dr. Chanthara.
“Everything looks good,” Kim said. “Probably the safest lab I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment,” Dr. Chanthara said.
“We have very high safety standards here at the Einstein-Odinson,” Dean Lichman said, defensively. “Relatively speaking. Innovation requires some risk.”
“I understand perfectly. So does Mae.”
“Hurt. Okay,” Mae said.
“Not that okay,” Vell said. “Nice meeting you, Dr. Chanthara. You too, Mae.”
“Wait.”
Mae prodded one of the buttons on her pedestal and then pointed her trunk at the three of them. Hawke looked deeply concerned, but stepped forward alongside Vell and Kim. Mae Noi appraised them with massive brown eyes, and then moved her trunk back towards the pedestal. Vell noticed a distinctive scar on the bridge of her long nose just as Mae Noi pressed another button.
“Joke.”
“...Joke?”
Dr. Chanthara sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Just go along with it,” he said. “She likes to tell her joke.”
“Uh, okay,” Vell said. “Let’s hear it.”
“What. Elephant. Favorite. Part. Tree.”
“Umm...I don’t know, Mae,” Vell lied. He’d heard this joke from a kid, once. “What part?”
“Trunk,” Mae said. She gave a loud bray of amusement and then slammed her trunk down a few more times to emphasize the punchline. “Trunk. Trunk.”
“Oh, ha, I get it,” Kim said, hoping her feigned laugh was convincing. She’d never tried to lie to an elephant before. “Good one, Mae.”
Mae Noi shifted from side to side, looking pleased with herself, while the trio took a step back and stopped their feigned laughter.
“Did you give her buttons just to tell that joke with?”
“She gets upset,” Dr. Chanthara said. “I’m not even sure she understands the pun, she just likes people’s reactions.”
“As long as she’s having fun,” Hawke said.
“We’ll get out of your hair now,” Vell said. “Good luck with the experiment, feel free to let us know if you need a hand with anything.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Dr. Chanthara said. Some of his earlier skepticism seemed to have softened, but he did not seem entirely onboard with three strangers mucking about with his experiment. Vell and his friends left before they stretched what little goodwill they had any further. Mae Noi waved her trunk goodbye as the three left the lab and stepped back onto the quad.
“I’m going to try and sneak some classes in,” Hawke said. “Later.”
“I’ll check some of our usual hot spots,” Kim said, before she too left. Once again alone, Vell headed to one of his own classes, and called up Samson.
“Hey, Samson,” Vell began. “See anything interesting while we were playing with the elephant?”
“Well, I thought I clocked someone acting suspicious, but it turns out he was only sneaking around to go see his boyfriend,” Samson said. “Nothing apocalyptic, but I did get called a homophobe, which is pretty emotionally devastating.”
“I’m sure you’ll recover someday,” Vell said. “Keep an eye out. Usually the safer things look, the more dangerous things end up being.”
“Will do,” Samson said, before saying goodbye and hanging up.
***
Vell got increasingly nervous the longer the day went without its daily disaster. He thought about checking in on Mae Noi again, but then recalled Kim’s warning about it being too obvious, but then remembered that nobody had seen anything suspicious anywhere else, but then remember that Mae Noi’s lab had looked perfectly safe-
“Vell.”
“Huh?”
“You’re spiraling,” Kim said.
“I’m not spiraling, I’m just,” Vell said, with a pause for contemplation. “Considering multiple options.”
“In a spiral fashion,” Kim said. “Eat the damn french fries. Honestly, what’s the point of ordering so many if you’re just going to let them get cold?”
“It’s not like they’re going to go to waste,” Vell said. The same time loop that allowed him to eat massive amounts of french fries without fear of gaining weight also allowed him to avoid food waste. One of the upsides of life in a time loop.
“Just eat, Vell,” Kim said. “You worry too much about all this shit.”
“I’m in charge, it’s my job to worry about it,” Vell said.
“It’s your job to handle it,” Kim said. “There’s no point thinking about this shit before it happens, you spend all day thinking about an elephant and then the universe drops, like, a bat with tentacles on your head. Just deal with as it comes, Vell.”
Vell leaned on the table and managed to chomp down on a french fry or two.
“You know, next year, when I’m not running the show anymore, I’m going to call and see if you still think it’s that easy.”
“I sure hope so,” Kim said. “I’m saying all this shit trying to make myself believe it too.”
“Oh good, you’re lying to both of us,” Vell said. “That’s cool.”
“Fake it ‘til you make it, Vell, that’s how it goes,” Kim said. “Eat your damn french fries.”
Vell rolled his eyes and returned to his fries, which were now starting to cool. Thankfully he would not have to worry about finishing them. A loud crash from across campus interrupted him mid-bite and nearly made Vell choke on his fries. He painfully swallowed the half-chewed food and then looked over his shoulder.
“Son of a bitch, finally,” Vell said. A few years ago he’d found it weird whenever he was relieved about a disaster, but now he was just genuinely glad to get it over with. The waiting was as killer as the apocalypse. He tossed his fries in the trash and headed toward the sound of chaos, with Kim right behind him.
“Already told everybody?”
“Well, I may or may not have left Alex and Helena out of the loop…”
“Kim.”
“They’d find out anyway,” Kim said. “I got to use my brain parts to get in touch with them, even over wi-fi that shit feels dirty.”
“Just get in- stop.”
Vell held out his hand. Kim froze in place and did not move. Not intentionally, at least. There was a small amount of unintentional movement. The ground was vibrating.
“Always love a good earthquake,” Kim said.
“That’s not a quake,” Vell said. “That’s...footsteps!”
Vell grabbed Kim and dove out of the way just in time for something to barrel through the walls of the dining hall and stampede across the room. Tables, chairs, and more than a few students were crushed under the feet of a hulking, brown-furred behemoth as it charged. Kim picked herself and Vell up off the floor and tried to trail its progress.
“That’s a- oh fuck me,” Kim said. “Please don’t say you told me so.”
Vell got his bearings and looked across the room at the titanic form of a woolly mammoth. Though it was definitely recognizable as an archaic mammoth, the ancient creature was also heavily mutated, unnaturally large even by mammoth standards, and with multiple curled, jagged tusks protruding from a slobbering maw.
“Well that could be unrelated,” Vell said. “Mammoths can come from a lot of places, cloning accidents, time machines…”
The mammoth reached a wall, and rather than barreling through, turned around, facing directly towards Vell. A prominent scar covered the bridge of its broad trunk.
“Oh, nope, that’s definitely Mae,” Vell said. The scar was in the same place and at the same angle. Even a clone wouldn’t have an identical scar.
Once the revelation had struck, Mae took her turn. Vell found himself staring straight down the barrel of a very angry mammoth coming right at him at Vell-squishing velocity. Luckily he’d been charged at by a lot of creatures over four years of looping.
Vell jumped up and to the side, and latched on to one of the curled tusks, which made for very convenient handlebars. Kim did the same on the opposite side of Mae, and punched her in the head.
“Wait, wait, hold off on the violence for a second,” Vell shouted. He tried to wave at Kim to stop, but Mae was thrashing so violently he had to grip the tusks with both hands.
“Good plan,” Kim shouted. “Can you get Mae on board?”
Another set of tables got crushed underfoot. Thankfully the other students were out of trampling range by now, but Mae Noi’s feet were still coated in the blood of earlier victims.
“Mae’s smart, maybe we can calm her down,” Vell said. He then ducked to dodge a swat from Mae’s mutated trunk.
“Call me crazy, Vell, but I think this is more than just a bad mood,” Kim said, as she climbed up Mae’s seven jagged tusks like a ladder.
“We have to try,” Vell said. The loopers rule against hurting other intelligent life forms had some flexibility for blood-crazed mutants on violent rampages, but they had to at least try to reason first. Vell climbed up on of Mae’s tusks and looked into one of her bloodshot eyes for any sign of recognition. “Mae! It’s Vell, do you remember?”
The only response Vell got was an enraged trumpet, which he didn’t think was a “yes”.
“Come on, bud,” Vell said. “What’s an elephant’s favorite part of a tree, right? The trunk?”
The massive brown eye staring at Vell blinked, and he felt a brief glimmer of hope. He then felt a brief glimmer of his lungs being crushed as Mae swung her head and slammed her tusks into the wall, and Vell along with them. Kim punched Mae in the throat and then jumped across the tusks to grab Vell and carry him to safety.
“You okay, Vell?”
He opened his mouth to respond, and a pint or two of blood came out instead.
“Apparently not,” he mumbled. “I might be down a few ribs. And a lung. Or two.”
Kim carried Vell a safe distance from the fight and set him down on the ground, where he promptly spat out another mouthful of blood.
“Okay, uh, you just lie there and try to die peacefully, I guess,” Kim said.
“Way ahead of you.”
***
“Was that last bit as funny as I thought it was?” Vell asked. “I think the blood loss was affecting my sense of humor.”
“It was kind of hard to appreciate in the moment,” Kim said. “But as far as dying jokes go, it was pretty good.”
Vell and Kim walked into the lair for their morning meeting and joined the loopers that had already gathered.
“Okay, what’d I miss while I was dead?”
“Well, after Alex was done getting herself killed,” Samson began.
“You’re saying that as if it’s something to be ashamed of,” Alex said. “Vell also died.”
“Yeah, but he got killed trying to do something good. You got killed trying to do something stupid.”
“Trying to eliminate a threat is not stupid,” Alex said.
“We don’t kill intelligent creatures,” Hawke said. “Sometimes we punch them into a coma, but we don’t kill them.”
“When a dog bites, you put it down, I don’t see why the same principle doesn’t apply to a mammoth that’s crushed seventy people.”
“That wasn’t Mae’s fault,” Vell said. “She got mutated, or something. On that note: did you guys figure out what happened to Mae Noi?”
“Nothing,” Hawke said. “Looked like Mae smashed up the entire lab, trampled everyone involved in the experiment too. Nothing left to investigate, and nobody left alive to interrogate.”
“Typical,” Vell sighed. “At least we have an easy out. Dean Lichman was really concerned about the ethics of that whole experiment. We raise some kind of complaint, we could probably get the whole thing shut down.”
“The problem is getting the complaint,” Hawke said. “That lab was airtight, Vell.”
“Apparently not completely airtight,” Kim said. “I can camp out in the lab and raise an entirely justifiable stink whenever something capable of making a murder-mammoth shows up.”
“And what if it happens so suddenly you can’t complain about it?” Samson asked. “For all we know that could’ve been some kind of dimensional rift, or time anomaly, or something. It might not be as simple as somebody just putting in the wrong syringe at the wrong time.”
“He’s got a point,” Vell said. “We might want to shut this down before it gets there.”
“Seems like our best option is to plant evidence, then,” Alex said.
Everyone else at the table spent a few seconds brainstorming ways to prove her wrong, and much to their frustration, could not.
“Okay, fine,” Vell said. “But it needs to be something incidental, not something anyone would get blamed for. We want to cancel the experiment, not get anyone in trouble.”
“I could have a seizure on some sensitive equipment,” Helena offered. “It’ll break something and nobody would dare get mad at me.”
“Can you fake a seizure?”
“No, but I’m allergic to elephants, so I’d probably have one anyway the moment I stepped in the lab,” Helena said.
“I don’t feel entirely comfortable sending you into anaphylactic shock for a bit,” Vell said.
“Offer’s on the table,” Helena said. “I’ll live. Wouldn’t have made it through that trip to the zoo otherwise.”
“Anybody have any non-medical emergency suggestions?”
“Seagull in the air vents,” Kim said.
“Will that work?”
“It happens now and then,” Kim said. “Seagull gets in, and Dean has to close down the whole lab for potential material damage and biohazard risks if they shit in the vents.”
“Really? We’ve never had to deal with anything like that,” Hawke said.
“It may shock you to learn that sometimes minor, tedious bullshit happens that we have nothing to do with,” Kim said.
“That is kind of surprising, actually.”
“Enough. Kim, can you grab a seagull?” Vell asked. He shouldered his bookbag, and stuck a hand into the extradimensional pocket that existed within it. “I can probably smuggle it in with my bag.”
“Yeah, I can get you a seagull,” Kim said. Since she did not need to sleep, she had to find ways to keep herself entertained at night, seagull-grabbing being among them.
“Alright, we’ll go grab one and put it in the bag,” Vell said. “The rest of you, be ready to meet us when I call.”
***
Roughly three minutes later, Vell put out the call and they reconvened in front of the biology lab.
“Yeah, that was much faster than I thought it would be,” Vell said.
“I’m great at grabbin’ birds,” Kim said. Seagulls were among the easier birds to snatch, even. They were suckers for food, and many of them were attracted to her shiny metallic body anyway.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Vell said. “I want this thing out of my bag ASAP.”
Even though the seagull was safely within a pocket dimension, Vell would swear he could still feel the bird thrashing and squawking inside his bag. He tightened his grip on the shoulder strap and led the way towards the zoology lab entrance. He grabbed the handle and held it as he froze for a second.
“Vell, what’s up? Is this bird escaping?”
“No, the handle’s vibrating,” Vell said. It was shaking the same way a wall near an incredibly loud speaker might. He pressed his ear to the door and listened closely. He opened the door immediately, and let all his friends hear the frantic trumpeting of a panicked elephant.
Inside the lab, Mae Noi was stomping her feet and trumpeting as loud as he long trunk would allow. She swayed from side to side in her pen, bumping against the walls not quite hard enough to damage them, but hard enough that it was clear she was doing it on purpose.
“What the heck is happening here?”
“Ah, Vell,” Dean Lichman said. He hustled over to Vell’s side and gestured to the entire room. “Maybe you can figure out what’s going on.”
Mae Noi stopped braying long enough to start mashing her trunk against her pedestal, mashing out the word “Bad” over and over again.
“Our test subject, Mae Noi, has been throwing an absolute fit ever since she got here,” Dean Lichman said. “Dr. Chanthara, these are the students I was telling you about earlier.”
While Vell reintroduced himself to Dr. Chanthara, Kim and Hawke stepped up to examine Mae Noi and her enclosure. It was a far cry from the peaceful, orderly scene they had examined on the first loop. They were half an hour earlier this time than before, but Kim found it unlikely that they had been able to calm Mae Noi down, clean everything up, and get back to work in such a short amount of time. They hadn’t mentioned any of this panic on the first loop either. They were soon joined in their confusion by Chanthara and Vell.
“We’ve tried everything; food, water, her favorite toys, even videos of her children,” Dr. Chanthara said. “We’ve even offered to call off the experiment, but she won’t listen.”
“She is an animal,” Alex said. “Sometimes they do things arbitrarily.”
“Not Mae,” Dr. Chanthara said. “Some of our sanctuaries residents from traumatic backgrounds can have outbursts, but Mae was injured in the wild. She’s never been like this.”
“Maybe some experiment on the island is upsetting her,” Vell said. “A sonic experiment only she can hear, or something…”
Vell stopped and thought about it. If there had been such an irritant, it would’ve been there on the first loop too. Everything always repeated exactly the same, except for-
“Could you, uh, take a step back for a second?” Vell mumbled. “I want to try talking to her.”
“Don’t get close,” Chanthara warned him.
“I’m not, I’m not,” Vell said. He didn’t need to get very close to tell a joke.
The massive brown eyes of Mae Noi stayed locked on Vell as he approached, and she continued to mash the “Bad” button on her pedestal.
“I know, I know, bad,” Vell said. “But, uh, do you want to hear a joke?”
Mae Noi stopped. She locked eyes with Vell for a few seconds, and then cautiously tapped a button on her pedestal.
“Joke.”
“Right, joke,” Vell said. He tried to recall the exact sequence of words Mae had used on the first loop. “What elephant favorite part tree?”
Mae didn’t blink.
“Trunk,” Vell said.
After a moment of contemplation, Mae Noi let out one final, fervent, trumpet, and then started mashing buttons on her pedestal again.
“Bad. Help. Help. Experiment. Bad. Help. Bad. Help.”
“Yeah, bad help, one second,” Vell said. He turned away from Mae Noi to look at Dean Lichman. “Hey, uh, excuse me, Dean? Hey, uh, if I remember correctly there are some pretty complicated rules on having intelligent animals on campus, yes?”
“Well, yes,” Dean Lichman said. After hearing of some questionable ethical practices involving an octopus back in first year, he had instituted a few clauses into the school’s ethical code of conduct regarding intelligent animals like elephants, octopuses, and dolphins. “Mae’s presence here is a bit of an outlier, but there were workaround, given her apparent consent to the experiment.”
“Yeah, about that, is she, uh,” Vell began. “Is she registered as a student?”
“Yes.”
Vell pursed his lips. It took a few seconds for his friends to catch on.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Samson snapped. He turned his back on the crowd and leaned against a wall while Hawke put his head in his hands.
“The first rule of looping,” Alex said quietly. “Loopers are randomly selected-”
She looked up and locked eyes with Mae Noi.
“From all registered students.”