Hi everyone, so a few weeks ago I started writing affirmations to create my own subs (for my personal use). This one I have recently done for my eyes. I would just like to know from those of you who have created your own subs, if there is anything I should add or omit. Thank you ☺️.
Color: I have gorgeous gray eyes. I love my gray eyes. My eyes are the exact shade of gray, I’ve always wanted. My gray eyes suit me perfectly. My gray eyes are in perfect health. The transformation of the color of my eyes to gray is immediate, safe, and permanent. My body safely adjusts melanin production and distribution to give me mesmerizing, even, gray eyes. My melanin production is perfectly regulated for my gray eyes. The color change of my eyes is natural, safe, immediate, and permanent.
Shape: I have perfectly symmetrical eyes, now and forever. I have perfectly symmetrical almond-shaped eyes immediately and permanently. I love my almond shaped eyes. My eyes are the perfect size for my face. My eyes are the perfect height and width for my face. My eyes are naturally transforming into the perfect almond shape, enhancing my appearance immediately and permanently. The outer corners of both my eyes are evenly and beautifully lifted, giving me gorgeously shaped and youthful eyes.
Eyebrows: My eyebrows are perfectly shaped and symmetrical. My eyebrows are naturally, perfectly groomed. My eyebrows perfectly frame my face. This transformation of my eyebrows is immediate and permanent. I love my eyebrows. I am blessed with perfectly shaped eyebrows. My eyebrows are the perfect shape and size for my face, accentuating my features beautifully and naturally.
Eyelashes: OMG, Look at my eyelashes, every strand of my upper eyelashes is 2cm long. Every strand of my upper eyelashes is thick, healthy and 2cm long. Every day my eyelashes grow longer, thicker, stronger, and more beautiful, framing my eyes with perfection, permanently. My eyelashes are naturally so long, thick, and full, that everyone wants to know my secret. I am blessed with beautiful, wispy, long, thick eyelashes. My eyelashes are permanently thick, long and full. I love my eyelashes; they perfectly frame my eyes. I look and feel absolutely gorgeous with my long, thick, full eyelashes.
Skin Health: I am completely free and immune to fine lines and wrinkles on my face, especially around my eyes and my forehead. I am completely free and immune to dark circles and dark spots under and around my eyes. The skin around my eyes is smooth, healthy, and youthful. My skin is firm, youthful, and nourished around my eyes and my face. The skin under my eyes is plump, bright and clear. The skin under my eyes is even-toned and glowing with perfect health.
Final: Every part of my body and mind is contributing to my desired changes, safely and permanently. The transformation of my eyes is not only immediate but also safe and permanent, bringing me powerful results beyond imagination. I trust in my body's innate ability to bring about safe changes, including the transformation of my gray eye color in a way that benefits my overall health. My eyes are incredibly gorgeous. Everyone is captivated by my eyes. The color and shape of my eyes are one of my most loved and admired features, making me irresistibly attractive.

Ugh. I think I just need some insight, advice, experiences, and support from anyone who’ll give it. I have two female rats who are about 18 months old; I adopted them together. Preface, Maev has had a mass/tumour the size of a grape come up between her back legs on her tummy a few weeks/month ago; it’s not changed since appearing and doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.
The last 48 hours have been interesting so I’ll try my best to not be confusing about the timeline.
Thursday PM - both girls are happy and normal, jumping around, eating treats, not too tolerant of pats as usual and just want my snacks.
Friday AM - Maev is completely normal. Rosie looks worse for ware. Her hips looked all odd, fur was all loose looking, eyes half shut, even saw her kind of drag her back legs once. She kept falling asleep mid way through moving and when trying to clean herself. I thought she wasn’t even going to make it through the day and we had a lot of pats and cuddles (which she usually wouldn’t tolerate) that night before bed because I was certain she wouldn’t make it. She let me pat her and just sat there with her eyes closed. Her feet were very pale and skin had definitely lost a lot of colour. She was just sleeping in her empty tissue box and out on her scarf.
Saturday AM - both rats are still kicking. Rosie seems a bit slow still and I’d moved all their food and etc. to the floor of the cage where they could both reach it because I thought Rosie was having mobility issues and I genuinely thought she would continue to decline rapidly. Though, Rosie was able to pop herself up on a wooden perch/shelf, hop into their (low) hanging hammock house, and continued to eat banana/avo/crackers and have water this whole time. I then noticed that Rosie was bleeding from her anus. Both rats were licking it and trying to clean her up. At that point I had to separate them because the repetitive licking was bound to cause problems quickly and I wasn’t sure if Rosie was in pain by Maev pushing her around to get under her etc. The bleeding was enough to stain the fur around and then a drop every now and again but eventually stopped. Feet/extremities are still pale.
Saturday PM - Rats are still separated - they don’t seem too distressed about this. Rosie has her googly eyes wide open now and isn’t falling asleep mid scratch anymore. She’s jumping up on the perch/shelf to ask for attention and is eating snacks as well as drinking water. She even re arranged her bed scarf how she wanted it and is still able to climb up into the hammock. Feet/extremities are still pale. Doesn’t appear to be bleeding. I can’t put them both in together in case she starts bleeding again. I gave them both a cracker and said goodnight. Rosie is quite sleepy.
My conundrum. If by sheer vigor, Rosie makes it to Monday. Would I be doing the right thing by both rats, to take them to their loving vet, and have them both put to sleep? Rosie is clearly suffering of some kind of internal rupture, but is having a second wind, and one hell of a comeback. They have to be separated because of the potential bleeding. Maev has a mass/tumour. If Maev survives (for now) I’m going to have to go through this with her; she would have to go through this, and I don’t know how she would cope completely alone.
They both are still wanting their snacks and are looking at me with their sweet faces🥺🙆🏼‍♀️
No one prepares you to make these decisions for your pets as an adult.🫣

11/20/2017
Log book of Det. Ryan Snow
Case #2798: The Appalachian Murders
When I woke up, I was in such a haze that I couldn’t make out where I was at first. My vision was a blur and all I could hear was the sounds of rushing water. I tried to move my limbs, but each muscle down to my little finger felt like lead weighing down on me, making it hard to breathe.
It felt like forever before the ringing in my ear was slowly swallowed out by a voice crying out from what sounded like a distance only to grow louder as it seemed to approach me from the void I had woken up in. It wasn’t until I heard my name that I recognized it was Kate’s voice, pleading and filled with tears.
I blinked away the blur, finding myself staring up at a water damaged ceiling, a single yellow light brightening the room. My head was pounding and my body still felt heavy, but I moved my head enough to turn and see where Kate was calling from. It took a moment, but I soon realized that she was lying on her back, strapped by her arms and legs to a metal table, looking to me with wide terrified eyes.
“Detective, please help!” She cried out. “Please don’t be dead! Please help me!”
“Bl-Black…Well…” I groaned out as I tried, painfully, to pick myself up off the stone floor, “Black…Well… Ah… Shit… Shit! Ms. Blackwell-“ I was gaining consciousness minute by minute as I finally took in the situation and got to my feet. However, the moment I had gotten to my feet and began running to Kate only to immediately fall back to the floor once again, my ankle getting caught by something heavy. I turned to see my ankle had been shackled to the floor by a cuff and chains. I searched my person to find my coat, along with my Glock had been taken, blood decorating my pants and sleeves. I placed a palm to my forehead to find blood when I lowered it down to look at the warm liquid slithering down from my scalp.
“Ms. Blackwell,” I returned my attention to her, examining what I could from my place on the floor, “are you alright, are you hurt?”
“I… I… I don’t… Don’t think so…” she managed to whine out.
“Where’s Mr. Raines?”
To this question, Kate looked away from me, sobbing being her only verbal response.
I went back to the shackles on my ankle and began trying to yank the chains off from the floor, but they had been well maintained and were too strong for me to simply yank out of the stone. I then quickly looked around the room to find we were in a different basement from the one in Cabin #3, though it had the same kind of layout, the table the only major difference. I also took note of the blood stains that trailed from the sides of the table and the dried pools below.
“I want my mom!” Kate cried out, her voice echoing in the empty room.
“I’ll get you to her, I will, I promise,” I assured her, trying to find something, anything to get us out of this, “do you remember how we got down here?”
“I… I… I just re-remember… Remember you g-getting knocked out… Knocked out by someone and them… Them putting a rag over me… Then everything went black… Then I woke… Woke up… H-Here…” Kate answered, trying to breathe with each sob she let out. “I… I th-thought… y-you… You were d-d-… Dead!”
“I’m not, I’m very much alive and I’m going to get you out of here and back to your parents,” I vowed as I continued looking for a way out of this situation, “we’re going to get you out of here, get you home, and we’ll make sure no one ever gets hurt here ever-“
The sound of the basement door from the splintered wooden steps cut me off. I listened as feet descended down the steps to the basement below, Kate’s ragged breaths the only other sound. The person who came down was a woman. The same exact woman from the photo I had found in her house. She looked as if she had not aged since that photo was taken, despite how long ago it seemed the photo was taken. She had the same exact long, white hair, same tired looking eyes, and same disgustingly pale skin as in that photo and on her profile picture. It was Mrs. Larson.
“Deeeeeetectiiiiiiive,” she spoke in a hoarse voice mixed with what I assumed was her own and several others, both male and female, adult and child, “youuuuuuu shouuuullld haaaaaaaaave juuuuuuusssssst giiiiiven herrrrrrr toooooo meeeeee… Youuuuuuuu diiiiiiiiid nooooooot haaaaaave toooooooo ssssssseeeee thiiiiiissssss…”
“Fuck you!” I shouted, beginning to charge at the elderly woman only to be yanked back by my shackles. “Let us go, right now!”
“Nnnnooooo,” Mrs. Larson replied harshly as she stepped over to loom over Kate.
“Stay away from her!” I barked, trying desperately to break free of my shackles.
She ignored me as she ran a shaky hand down along Kate’s trembling face. “Ooooooooohhhhh, Kaaaaaate… Sweeeeet, sweeeeeeeet, Kaaaaaaaaaate…” Mrs. Larson cooed as she went on stroking Kate’s wet cheek. “Doooooo noooooooot crrrrrrryyyyyyy, dooooooonnnnnn’t thiiiiiiiiiinnnnk oooooofff iiiiiiiit aaaaaaaassssss dyyyyyyyyiiiiinnnnng, thiiiiiiiiinnnk ooooooooffff iiiiiiit aaaaaassssss ssssssssaaaaaaaaaviiiiiiinnng aaaaaannnnoooootherrrrrrrrr liiiiiiiiife.”
“I-I… I d-don’t… Don’t under-understand… w-what th-that… That m-means…” Kate cried, her hands gripping the sides of the metal table beneath her, “P-Please, d-don’t… Don’t kill me… L-Let… Let us-us go!”
“Nnnnnoooooo,” Mrs. Larson answered in the same harshness she used on me, “IIIIIIIII neeeeeeeed youuuuuuuuuu,” she then shot a death glare my way through tired, silver eyes, “aaaaaaaannnnnnd heeeeeeeeee’ssssssss beeeeeeeeeennnnnn nnnnnnnoooooooothiiiiiiiiinnnnnng buuuuut aaaaaa thooooooorrrrrrnnnn iiiiiiinnnnn myyyyyyyyy ssssssssiiiiiiiide siiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnccccccce youuuuuu eeeeeessssssscaaaaaaped meeeeeeee.” She then looked back to Kate with a softer look. “Aaaaaaaassssss fffffoooooorrrrr whaaaaaaaat youuuuuuu caaaaaannnn’t uuuuuunnnnnnderrrrrrssssssstaaaaaaannnnnnd, IIIIIIIIII nnnnnneeeeeeed yourrrrrrrrrr heaaaaaaaarrrrrt tooooooo ssssssssaaaaaavvvvvvve myyyyyyy ssssssiiiiiiiisssssssterrrrrrrr.”
“The fuck does that mean?” I demanded, still trying to vain to pull my ankle from the chains. “How the hell will Kate’s heart save your sister?”
“Diiiiiiiiidnnnnnn’t nnnnnnneeeeeeed toooooo beeeee Kaaaaaaate’sssssss,” admitted Mrs. Larson, “buuuuuuuut sssshhhhhheeeeee hiiiiiiiiid theeeeee ooooooootherrrrr giiiiirrrrrrllllll ffffffrrrrroooooommmmm mmmmmeeeeee.”
“S-Son… Sonja…” Kate sniffed, the tears still streaming down her face.
“IIIIIIII oooooooonnnnnlllllyyyyy neeeeed fffffffeeeeeemmmmmaaaaallllle,” Mrs. Larson dismissed Ms. Greymoore’s name, “ffffffeeeeeeemmmmmaaaaaallllle heaaaaaaaarrrrrrrtsssss toooooo rrrrrrreeeeeetuuuuurrrrrrnnnnn mmmmmmyyyyy ssssiiiiissssssterrrrrrrrr toooooo theeeeeeee giiiiirrrrrllllll ssssshhhhhheeeee uuuuuuuusssssed tooooo beeeeeee.”
“That’s a fucking joke right?” I asked. “The hell makes you think eating a female heart will turn your sister back into a human woman? Have you seen what’s happened to your sister?”
“IIIIIIIII knnnnnnnooooooow beeeeeeecaaaauuuuusssssse iiiiiiiiiiit wooooooorrrrrked ooooooonnnnn mmmmmeeeeee,” Mrs. Larson explained, “IIIIIIIIIII waaaaaasssss aaaaaaablllllllle toooooo reeeeeeetaaaaiiiiiinnnnnn thiiiiiiiiiisssssss huuuuuummmmmmaaaaaannnnn fffffffooooorrrrrrmmmm ffffffrrrrrooooommmm eeeeeaaaaatiiiiiinnnnnng theeeeeeee heaaaaaaaaarrrrrtsssss, sssssspecifffffficaaaaaaallllllyyyyyy fffffffeeeeeemmmmmaaaaallllleeee sssssssooooooo IIIIIIIIII mmmmmmaaaaaayyyyyy rrrrrreeeeetuuuurrrrrnnnnn toooo beeeeeiiiiinnnng theeeeeeee giiiiiirrrrrrrllllll IIIIIII uuuuuuusssssed toooooooo beeeeeee.”
“You were dead,” I pointed out, “they found your body up here, you were buried.”
“Theeeeeessssssse sssshhhhheeeeeellllllsssss arrrrrrre mmmmmeeeeeerrreeeellllyyy veeeeeessssssellllllssssss ffffffoooooorrrrrr theeeeeeee sssssspiiiiirrrrriiiiiitsssss weeeee hiiiiiiiiiiide beeeeeneeeeaaaaattthhhh,” Mrs. Larson responded, finally turning her gaze to me, “IIIIIIII haaaaaaad tooooooo maaaake peeeopllllle beeeelieevvvve IIIIIII haaaaaad diiiiiiied tooooo keeeeeep frrrrroooommm theeeee poooooollllliiiiicccce ffffrrrrrrooooommmm pooookiiiiiinnnng aaaaarrrrouuuuuunnnnd aaaaannnnnd rrrrruuuiiinnnnniiinnnng eeeevvvveeerrrrryyythiiiiinnnng.”
“So, let me just get this whole thing straight,” I began as I started rubbing my temples, "when you and your sister starting into… Whatever the hell that thing you call your sister is-“
“Ooooouuuurrrrr sssssspiiiiiirrrrrriiiiiit,” Mrs. Larson corrected.
“Whatever!” I shot. “You found out that eating female hearts turns you two back into human women and to keep police from suspecting you, you pretended to be dead and… What? Just hope a shitty real estate agency would buy your property and you could just… Kill people, people with lives and families outside the mountains?”
“Thaaaaaaaat iiiiiiisssss cooooorrrrrreeeeect…” Mrs. Larson admitted, narrowing her eyes at me.
That’s when I began laughing hysterically, holding my sides that hurt with each harsh breath of a laugh I took. Both Mrs. Larson and Kate looked to me as if I had lost my mind and at this point I was starting to believe I had. Everything I had seen and heard about this entire case would put anyone in the looney bin. And I’m the damn fool who dug too deep into something he had nothing to do with.
“Whaaaaaat’s ssssoooo ffffuuunnnny?” Growled Mrs. Larson, stepping around Kate to stand between us.
“I don’t know what’s fucking funnier, honestly,” I chuckled, running a hand through my hair, “the fact that you thing people won’t be poking around even more when they discover not only is Blackwell missing, but so is a detective and escaped convict all of whom now have ties to these fucking mountains and those cabins, or that you thing I’m more afraid of what you plan on doing with me more than I am when her father finds out I got her in this situation in the first place!”
“Heeeeeee wooooonnnnn’t beeeee aaaaabllllle toooooo doooo aaaaaannnnnyyyyythiiiiiinnnng aaaaaaafffffterrrrrrr IIIIIIIII’mmmmm dooooooonnnne wiiiiiiiith booooooth ooooooooffffff youuuuuuuuu,” Mrs. Larson hissed as she inched closer, “fffffffiiiiiiirrrrrrssssst, IIIIIIIII waaaaaannnnnt youuuuuuuu toooo waaaaaatch mmmmmeeeee kiiiiiiillllll herrrrrrr,” she turned her head to look to Kate who was now just shaking, her eyes seemingly gone dry from the crying, Mrs. Larson then looked back to me, “sssssseeeeecooooonnnnd, IIIIIIII wiiiiillllll ssssssaaaaave youuuuu fffffooooorrrr mmmmmmyyyyy sssssiiiiiisssssterrrrr, oooooonnnnne heeeeaaaaart wiiiiilllll nnnnoooot ssssssaaaaaatissssfffffyyyy herrrr huuuuuunnnnnger.” She took another step. “Uuuuuuuunnnnnllllliiiiiike sssssssoooooommmme ssssssiiiiiibllllliiiiiiinnnnnngsssss, IIIIIIIII caaaaaarrrre aaaaaaboooouuuuut mmmmmmyyyyy ffffffaaaammmmiiiiilllllyyyyyy.”
She stared into my eyes, expecting a reaction and while my blood did somewhat boil at the accusatory statement, I didn’t fully understand what she was getting at. Not until she used that voice. Not until she relived that day with those two familiar child-like voices.
“Screw you, Liam!” She cried out in a voice I remember from my childhood. “I hope you drop dead!”
“Stop.” I demanded.
“Piss off, Ryan!” She shot back in a second boy’s voice.
“I said stop!” I began shouting.
“Help me, Ryan! Please, help me! I’m sorry! Please, Lucky Dime, help me!”
I then lunged toward her, reaching my hands out toward her neck only to be stopped by the shackles as she swiftly, almost without even moving, stepped just out of my reach.
“Fucking bitch!” I screamed out.
“If only you really cared about me, Lucky Dime,” sighed Mrs. Larson as she turned and began making her way to the side of the room where a cart stood in the shadows. She pulled it over to Kate’s side, the cart covered in rusted medical tools.
“P-Please,” Kate wheezed, “p-p-please… I… I d-d-don’t w-want… Want t-to d-d… D-Die, I… I w-w-want m-m-m… My m-mom!”
“Dooooonnn’t woooorrrrryyyyy,” Mrs. Larson soothed, using that mix of different voices, “mmmmmmaaaayyyyybeeee sheeee wiiiillll cooooommmme loooookinnnng ffffooooorrrr yooouuuuu aaaaannnnnd sheeeeeee caaaaannnnn joooooiiiiiinnnn youuuuuuu.”
Kate began to sob, begging and pleading for Mrs. Larson to let her go, thrashing around in her restraints. Telling the older woman that there was no saving her sister and that she was too far gone for this sick ritual to work anymore. I tried to yank at the chains once more, trying to loosen it at least enough to break free and grab at Mrs. Larson.
“Rrrrrrreeeeellllllaaaaax,” Mrs. Larson ordered as she began filling a syringe with some kind of clear liquid from a small bottle, “yoooouuuuuu woooooonnnn’t eeeeeveeennn fffffeeeellll iiiiiiit, thiiiissssss wiiiiiillllll puuuuuut youuuuu toooo ssssssllllllleeeeeep aaaaaannnnnnd wheeeeeennnnnn youuuuuu waaaaaake uuuuuuuup, youuuuuuu’lllllll beeee iiiiiinnnnnn heeeeeaaaaaaveeeennnnn… Uuuuuunnnnnnnllllllessssss youuuuuuu weeeerrrrrrre aaaaaa haaaaaarrrrrlllllooooooot, iiiiiiinnnnnn whiiiiiiiich caaaaaassssssseeeee, mmmmmaaaayyyy Goooooood haaaaaaaave mmmmmmmmerrrrrrrcccccyyyyy ooooonnnnn youuuuuur ssssssoooouuuuullllll… Aaaaannnnnd baaaaaaasssssed ooooonnnn hoooooow youuuuuu drrrrressss aaaaannnnnd theeeee coooommmmpaaaannnnyyyy youuuuuu keeeeeep,” She added as she eyed me, “IIIIIII ssssssaaaaaayyyy youuuuu haaaaaave aaaaa lllllloooooot ooooooffff fooooooorrrrgiiiiiviiiiinnnnng tooooo dooooo.”
Kate continued to cry as Mrs. Larson pushed the needle of the syringe into her arm, pushing down on the plunger as it pierced the flesh. Kate’s loud screams soon turned quieter and her red eyes began to glaze over, but she continued to stay awake, tightening her grip on the table and still begging to be let go.
“IIIIII waaaaannnnt youuuuu toooo waaaaatch, Detective,” Mrs. Larson spat out my title in Mr. Blackwell’s voice, “IIIII waaaaannnnnt youuuuu toooo waaaaatch herrrrrr fffffaaaaaade aaaaaannnnnnd mmmmmeeeee rrrrreeeemmmmooooove heerr heeeaaaarrrrrt toooooo ffffffeeeeeed tooooo mmmmmmyyyyyy ssssssiiiiiiiissssssterrrrrr,” she then pulled out a recorder, “theeeeennnnnn wheeeeeennnnn IIIIIII ssssssuuuuummmmoooooonnnnn herrrrrrr aaannnnd sheeeee fffffiiiinnnniiiishessssss oooooofffffff heeeerrrrr heeeaaaaarrrrrt, youuuuuuu’llllllll beeeeee neeeeeext.”
“Fuck you,” I snarled, “I hope you and your sister burn.”
“IIIIIIIII’mmmmm gooooonnnnnaaaaa gooooo aaaaallllllerrrrrrt mmmmmyyyyy ssssssiiiiiiissssterrrrrr,” Mrs. Larson turned and began making her way to the basement steps, “ssssseeee youuuuu boooooth ffffffoooooorrrr diiiiiinnnnnnerrrrrrr.”
She then pressed the play button on her recorder and a small, little girl’s voice echoed in the room before Mrs. Larson vanished up the steps.
“I’m here… I’m here… I’m here…”
Then the door slammed shut.
“De… Tec… Tive…” Kate squeaked out, her breathing slowing.
“Stay awake, Blackwell,” I ordered her gently, looking around frantically for anything to get us both out of this alive, “I’ll get us out of this, I promise, just stay awake, we’ll get out of here, I just need-“
“I’m… S… Sorry…” she breathed out. “I’m… So… Sorry… For… Get… Getting… You… In… To.. This…”
“No, no, this is not your fault!” I assured her. “That psychotic bitch got us both into this shit and I won’t stop until I get us out and put her and her fucking sister are six feet under!”
“W…Wha… What… H… Hap… Happened… To… To L… Liam…?”
I stopped struggling with the chains and turned to look to Kate. Her head was turned to me, her face wet, hands clenching as hard as they could to the table beneath her, the light in her eyes slowly fading second by second. She was trying desperately to stay awake. The medication Mrs. Larson taking hold of her as the minutes ticked by.
I dropped the chains that were in my hands, looking away from her, wanting to stare at anything other than another person I had failed.
“He was killed,” I answered, “we were fishing at a lake nearby… Lake Gaagige… We got into a really stupid ass fucking fight about how which fishing pole we were going to use. I wanted to use our dad’s, but Liam was older and said only men could use dad’s fishing pole… I told him… To drop dead and stormed off… When I got home, my parents dragged me back to the lake and scolded me for leaving him…” I trailed off, swallowing all the tears and screams I’d bottled up since that day. “When… We found… Him… The autopsy… Said he was mauled by a bear… I’ve blamed myself for leaving him there alone… For letting him die and getting killed like that… The last thing I ever told him was to drop dead… I was a shitty brother and now I’m a shitty detective…”
“Is… Is he… Why… You became… A… Detective…?”
I took a deep breath and swallowed the tears again. “No, Blackwell,” I answered, “he’s not why I became a detective… I already knew what had killed him… It was my fault… If I hadn’t been such a brat and stormed off… He might still be alive… And now… What that bitch said…” I replayed Liam’s screams that escaped Mrs. Larson’s mouth. “I’m starting to think I’m getting what I deserve. Karma’s back to kick my ass…”
“H… How… Old…?”
“I was six… Liam was eight…”
“N… N… Not your… F… Fault…”
I turned to look to Kate, her eyes on mine, however faded.
“Y… You were… Only… A k… Kid…”
I took another intake of what little air there was down in that basement. I had spent years trying to convince myself of the same thing, but those moments never got easier for me when those thoughts returned.
“I think you’re just being nice,” I laughed painfully, “but I’m afraid I- and my folks- don’t share the same sentiment.”
I was staring down at where the chains were coming from in the ground, Kate not saying a word for over a couple of minutes. I spun to see if she had fallen asleep and immediately tried to find out how to wake her up again. However, once I our eyes met, I saw that she was still fighting sleep, the last of her tears rolling down across the bridge of her nose and into her hair.
“I… I… I had… Had a c… Crush… O… On… J… Jasper…” she confessed, her voice getting quieter and higher. “P… Paul and… And Son… Sonja knew… I never… Never c… Cared f… For Luke… But I’m… Sure… S… Sonja t… Told him…” she looked like she was going to sob again. “I… I never g… Got the… Ch… Chance… T… To tell J… Jasper… I… Was… Scared… He… He and… P… Paul were friends… And I… I kn… Knew… How P… Paul f… Felt… A… About m… Me… I… I did… Didn’t wa… Want to… R… Ruin… Anyth… Anything…” She took a gulp of air. “I… I ha… Hated L… Luke… I… A… Always… Kn… Knew… He… He was a… Player… B… But Sonja… Said… Said she was hap… Happy… So… So I did… Didn’t wa… Want to g… Get in… H… Her way… B… But Luke d… Didn’t l… Like h… How cl… Close… We… Were… I d… Didn’t w… Want him to make… Make her th… Think I… I was l… Leading her o… On… T… To get them… To b… Break up… Th… Then… That n… Night… Sh… She w… Wanted to… To leave…” She let out two pained gasps of breath. “I… I let them down… I let them all down… Luke pro… Probably thought… Thought I w… Was the one who… Who f… Filled Sonja’s mind… With thoughts of… Of him ch… Cheating… Th… Then I… I got them… All killed…
I… I didn’t deserve them, d… Detective…” she went on, looking away from me to stare up at the water damaged ceiling, “I… I… I was a… Terrible… Terrible friend…”
“Did you read their guest book entries?” I asked.
“N… No… D… Didn’t w… Want to… To r… Read any… Anything p… Private…” Kate answered.
“Jasper didn’t blame you,” I assured her, remembering what he had written in his entry during his time watching Mrs. Larson just outside the cabin, “even when he heard the voices- when he heard Mrs. Larson- telling him to, he didn’t. I don’t think the others blamed you either. You didn’t do anything wrong, Ms. Blackwell, there’s no way you could have known any of this would happen.”
“K… Kate…”
“What?”
“C… Call… Call me… Kate…”
“Aright, Kate,” I let out what little laughter I had left inside me, “so long as we’re the last people we’ll be chatting with, call me Ryan.”
“R… Ryan…”
“If we at all live through this, I’m going to need a long vacation after this,” I said as I turned to look at my shackles again, looking around myself to try finding anything to Get free since a vacation sounded like something to die for at that moment, “do you know any good vacation spots I can book for the fall?”
“Y… You’re… You’re a… Dick…” Kate struggled to laugh.
“I also enjoy pineapple on pizza,” I winked as I reached down to my ankle, ready to break it just to taste that sweet combination of tomato sauce and fruit.
“G… God… I… I c… Can’t… Believe… I th… Thought y… You w… Were c… Cute…”
I sat down on the floor, grabbing my ankle with both my hands. Needing to hype myself up enough to do what I was going to do, I began removing my shoe and sock from the foot, rubbing and squeezing my way up and down the ankle to my toes. I had never broken a bone in my life before this and I definitely never thought I’d do it of my own volition, but this was a desperate time and it definitely called for desperate…
“Wait what?” I turned to look to Kate, finally registering what she had said.
However, just before I could be sure of what I heard, the sound of a hunting rifle going off just above our heads right before we heard the door to the basement swing open and immediately be slammed shut. Both Kate and I turned to see someone stumble down the wooden steps, his clothes torn and body scratched and cut to a nearly deadly degree. I was even shocked he was still breathing.
“M… Mr… R… Raines…?” Kate gasped out.
“What’s left of me at least,” Mr. Raines grumbled as he limped over to Kate and quickly began undoing her straps to the table, “damn thing almost ripped my head off, but one swing of the barrel to its eye and I was able to get away… Can’t say it didn’t do its damage though… I’m… Getting really fucking hungry…”
He shook his head violently before limping over to me. He then raised an eyebrow at me when he saw how I was positioned still on the floor with a bare foot in my hands shackled to the floor.
“I… I was… I… I thought you were-“ I stammered.
“I am,” Mr. Raines interrupted, “at least, I’m on my way there anyway.” He then retrieved my Glock from his back pocket. “I don’t know what that thing did to me, but I’m not gonna make it out of this alive, or the way I came in. It’s a massacre out there by the way. Lot of men in blue bodies out there… Very… Hard to ignore… Sure more will be on their way. So.”
With that, Mr. Raines pointed at my chains and pulled the trigger on my clock, barely giving me time to cover my ears as the sound rung out loudly in the basement. I shook my head, trying to undo the blurry and ringing side effects of the sound of a gun going off near your head. I gave the older man a glare before standing and snatching my Glock from his hands. That’s when I saw Kate shifting herself to the side of the metal table she was no longer tied to, trying to get her limbs to comply with her to help her off and on to the floor.
I ran over and grabbed her just as she nearly stumbled face first to the floor and lifted her up to her feet, her body heavy with lack of keeping herself up.
“Do you think you can walk?” I asked, trying to keep her on her feet.
“I… I don’t… I…” Kate stammered as she tried to push herself off of me while also using using me as a crutch until she could stand on her own. However, she didn’t seem to be able to put any kind of pressure on her legs without falling down.
“Kate?” A girl’s voice called out from above us.
Feeling Kate shudder, I realized that it must have been the sound of Sonja’s voice and Mrs. Larson was using her to keep Kate from running. I quickly swung my arm down behind her knees, pressing the other down on her back as I lifted her up off the floor, my Glock at the ready as I kept it pointed in front of me while my arm held up Kate’s knees.
“She must have heard the gunshots,” I pointed out, “how’d you get past her in the first place?”
“I set the other cabins on fire,” Mr. Raines answered as if it were the simplest of answers, “I had to distract her somehow and give those bodies she’d been eating a better fate than becoming her shit.”
“Are you planning on setting this place on fire too?” I asked.
“‘Course I am!” Mr. Raines exclaimed, seemingly offended I’d even ask. “I already doused it in gasoline, I ain’t wasting all that time!”
“Kate!” Sonja’s voice cried out, getting closer to the basement door. “Are you seriously leaving me here to die alone again!”
“Please… Make it… Stop…” Kate sniffed as she gripped my shirt and burying her face into the fabric.
“Let’s get you two out of here.” Mr. Raines began leading the way to the basement stairs, cocking his rifle as he did so.
“What about you?” I asked, immediately following after him.
Mr. Raines didn’t answer as he stomped up the stairs and kicked the door open to the first floor of the cabin. The stench of the gasoline he had spilled hitting me harshly in my face.
“Kate!” Sonja’s voice, along with a different crescendo of male voices shrieked out as Mrs. Larson appeared from the corner of the hallway where the basement was located.
“Leighton?” A different woman’s voice asked the moment the old woman’s eyes spotted Mr. Raines. I then watched in both shock and confusion as it almost looked like the very skin on the woman melted off to reveal a much younger woman. The woman I recognized as Bonnie Collins. “Leighton… Love is that you?”
Mr. Raines kept his rifle on the vision of the woman he once loved before her murder, but didn’t move or speak.
“Darling, I’ve missed you so much!” The fake Bonnie cried out as she began making her way to Mr. Raines with arms open wide to hug him.
Mr. Raines then lifted his gun up higher, placing his finger on the trigger which caused the vision to stop in her place.
“Leighton?” The fake Bonnie asked. “Baby, it’s me… Bun-Bun… Don’t you recognize me…?” She began to tear up.
“You’re not my Bunny,” Mr. Raines growled before he shot once at the woman.
The fake Bonnie swiftly dodged the bullet, an inhuman hiss coming from an unhinged mouth, revealing a row of long, sharp teeth. The skin of Bonnie then melted off to reveal another woman, a lot younger than the first one it intimidated. The face of one of the victims upon being brought on this case.
“Kate,” the fake Sonja called out, “Kate, what are you doing? Who are these men? Why are they trying to hurt me?”
Kate let out a sobbing gasp, her nails digging into my shoulder with her arm wrapped around my neck.
“Didn’t I suffer enough?” The fake Sonja asked. “First my boyfriend and now you? Why don’t you want to be with me anymore?”
“Shut up!” Kate demanded. “You’re not Sonja! You killed her, you killed all of them! I don’t care what happens to me, but I’m not letting their memories end with you!”
Kate then snatched my Glock from my hand under her legs and shot directly at the fake Sonja’s head. Again the shot missed as the fake vision of the girl slithered out of the way, a frustrated growl of a dog and human escaping it’s mouth. It then zipped to the side, cowering with its back to us on the floor.
“Lucky dime…” A child’s voice then took over. The vision’s skin melting now to a much smaller figure. “Is this what you want? To kill me all over again?” He turned to look up at me, Liam’s face forever eight-years-old staring up at me. “It’s no wonder mommy and daddy hate you now… You were always a shitty brother… Now, I’m gonna starve to death because you’d rather help a couple of strangers.”
“I’m sorry, Liam,” I replied, everyone, including the fake Liam looking to me in surprise, “I left you alone out here and that’s what got you killed by that thing out there and I’m sorry. But, if I’d stayed it may have been both of us and then mom and dad would have no one left to blame but each other. If you had left and I was the one killed, you’d probably be in my shoes instead. I’m sorry for letting you get killed, but I’m gonna make up for it now.”
I then took my Glock back from Kate and pointed it to the vision of Liam.
“Good bye, Liam.”
I shot the gun once again, missing the creature again, however, this time I just kept shooting, Mr. Raines following after. Our different bullets just kept firing, the thing dodging and trying to get closer to us. The creature screeched out at us in a myriad of different voices both familiar and unknown. It wasn’t until one shot from my Glock struck the creatures shoulder and Mr. Raines’ rifle struck its head when the skins of everyone it was trying to turn into all melted off, revealing Mrs. Larson once again.
However, this time, she looked shriveled, older than she looked before. Her face looked deformed, beginning to grow furry, her eyes growing nothing but red, no irises, no pupils, just red. Her hair grew longer, branches like antlers growing painfully out from her skull, breaking the skin as they grew larger. The lower half of her face grew elongated, turning into that of a muzzle of fangs and a drooling mouth.
“You… All… Have no rrrrrrriiiiiight!” A different, unknown voice snarled out from what used to be Mrs. Larson. “People liiiiiike you all… Abandoned me and myyyyyyyyy sister!” The fur growing around this thing grew out short and shaggy, the cloths it was using melting off with the skin and flesh it was wearing. It now didn’t look anything like a human woman. It now took the form of a large wolf mixed with that of a deer, it’s body dog-like with hooves, antlers, and a long, scraggly tail. “You lot abandoned us here! You left us all here to diiiiiiiie!”
Guilt was weighing down on me with each syllable it was growling. Kate looked away from it, burying her face in my neck as Mr. Raines lowered his rifle.
“Nooooow, you’re bringing more here to just leave and let die out here!” It went on, it’s horrifying, broken body shuddering. “Why let them just vanish and die up here when they can bring people like my sister and I back? Give me Kate’s heart and fix what you threeeeeeeeee failed!”
Mr. Raines then handed over his rifle to Kate, placing it down on her stomach as her hands were still wrapped around my neck. The older man made his way over to stand over the thing, its neck creaking like a rusted door as it turned its wolf-like head to look up at him.
“Leighton…” Bonnie’s voice came from the creature. “Give mmmmeeeee her heart aaaannnnd we can be togetherrrrr again… If you eat the deeeeeetective’s we can saaaaaave you tooooooo…”
“My Bunny’s dead,” Mr. Raines told it as he dug in his pocket and took out a carton of matches, “and so am I.”
“You’d burn your wife?” A mix of Bonnie and Mrs. Larson’s voices shrieked as it glared at the match he took from the match box.
“You’re not my wife,” Mr. Raines told it, “and I’ll never see her again.”
“Fooooooool,” Mr. Larson’s voice chuckled, “you’llllllll killllllll us both!”
“With the shit I’ve done in my life, I know you’re taking me to Hell with you,” Mr. Raines growled back as he struck the match on the box, “so I’m sure as fuck not afraid to burn here on Earth with you!”
Mr. Raines then dropped the match to the floor right before the creature and everything around the two of them immediately went up in flames, the fur of the creature catching quickly and engulfing it. An agonized shriek echoed out all around us, the creature thrashing in the fire it had gotten swallowed up in. Mr. Raines then grabbed it by it’s long, furry throat and swung it down back flat the floor, jumping to pin it down.
“Get out!” Mr. Raines cried out to me. “Leave here!”
Not needing to be told twice, I held onto Kate tightly and bolted past the two burning bodies, jumping over the fire as it began growing fast throughout the cabin. I quickly got to the front door and stopped to look back to see Mr. Raines fighting the creature and preventing it from coming after us, it begging for me to bring Kate back and that it would die without her.
“I’ll clear your name,” I called back, trying not to reel back in horror as I saw Mr. Raines skin begin to melt off, “I’ll let people know you didn’t kill Bonnie!”
“I’ll let people know you didn’t… Kill… Liam!” Mr. Raines’ voice called back, him thrashing around with Mrs. Larson as he said my brother’s name in my voice.
I turned back and kicked the front door open, rushing Kate out of the burning cabin. I ran until I got far enough from the smoke, turning back to see all three cabins now on fire, the area around them all ablaze. The only place untouched was Mrs. Larson’s house, all the evidence remaining. I could hear sirens in the distance coming closer. The sounds of shouts from the surviving officers sounding much closer.
“I’m here… I’m here… I’m here…”
I looked to the front porch of Mrs. Larson’s house where her recorder continued to call out for her sister. I set Kate down at the base of a nearby tree and ran to snatch the recorder, shutting it off. I searched around, looking for any signs of Prudence, but it appeared that the fire and the sounds of sirens and voices had scared her off. I ran back to Kate, her eyes closed and her not responding to me calling to her, but after checking her pulse and breathing, I found that the medication Mrs. Larson had given her had finally taken over and she was now fast asleep, the rifle Mr. Raines gave her still sitting on her rhythmically rising and falling stomach.
Letting out a sigh of relief, I leaned against the same tree I set Kate down on and slid down to the ground next to her. The first two cabins were already practically nothing but ash, the last still blazing as I heard the slowly fading screams of Mrs. Larson and Mr. Raines coming from inside.
When the screaming ended all together, the smoke turning blacker as it rose from the flames, I got to my feet and took out my pack of cigarettes as I approached the fires, staying far enough away not to get burned. I opened the pack up before stopping myself as I reached for one of the ten remaining cigarettes inside. I then flung the entire carton into the fires without taking one.
“Save one for me down there, you old bastard,” I told Mr. Raines before making my way back to Kate’s side.
It wasn’t long before the remaining officers found us, looking in confusion at the fires and to me with a sleeping victim in a homicide case on the ground. I told them we’d need to call an ambulance for Kate and that we needed to keep the flames from getting to Mrs. Larson’s house as it held evidence on the case. One officer retrieved his radio and called for an ambulance while a group ran to the house and another went to try controlling the fire as best they could by yanking out any bushes near by and throwing them away from the area around the house.
Luckily, the fire trucks were called long before the fire spread too far, residence noticing it practically the moment Mr. Raines set the first cabin on fire.
As I sat there, keeping Kate held up against the tree we sat under, I listened to the crackling of the fire, the sirens of fast approaching fire trucks and the ambulance, and the sounds of distance, coyote, almost human, howling.

Hello everyone. My name is Matthew, I'm 22 and I have no idea what the f is happening to me. I'll be brief. Since this February I've been dealing with (what i think at least) Neuropathy-like symptoms. Such as tingling, shooting pain,very mild numbness but a very annoying and frightful (to me at least) burning sensation. Now I want to point the attention to the burning sensation. It's literally everywhere in my body but it's very sporadic. It's sometimes in my eyes,on my fingers,on my toes around my lips on my back but mostly in my arms, very rarely in my legs. It was also in my tongue and even...yes down there in my privates,At the beginning it was 8-9/10 and it was driving me crazy, because I was freaking burning alive but there was nothing on my skin. Of course I immediately went to the doctor and he gave me blood tests and stuff to do. Blood test perfectly normal; No sing of inflammations, no sings of any possible tumor. All normal. So I booked a neurologist. Crazy enough he found nothing remotely similar to a never damage especially because i was able to do everything he asked me (at the visit) with my eyes closed. He told that he found no need for TCs, MRI scans or EMG, whatsoever, because ,as I told him, my burning sensation isn't localized and comes and goes sporadically. He therefore told me me I'm dealing with a psychosomatization of anxiety and sent me to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist gave me Xanx and Sertraline. I've been taking them but i had to stop because Sertraline sent me to the hospital because i literally was vomiting my soul out. Had to stop immediately. As for Xanx i gradually stooped but the does wasn't high at all. Literally 10 drops: 5 in the day 5 before sleeping. The burning sensation unfortunately didn't cease but i have to say that now it's a lot more manageable and milder. Heck,it was literally a 8-9/10 and now it's a 4-5/10, but it's still here. Huge Mistake, searching on Google, that's why I'm here. I am terrified. Needless to say i booked another neurologist in short hopefully this time i get a clearer answer. Although i did hear anxiety can cause literally any sort of symptom, I find it very wierd that such a symptom like mine (random and not localized burning sensation) can be related to anxiety. Yet,what my base doctor told me was "If you truly were to have a neuropathy the symptoms would get worse and worse and not even Xanax or Sertraline helped you" Now, Maybe he's right but I'm still here..."burning". My biggest fear is to suddenly collapse and find myself in a hospital bed with the diagnosis of an underlying tumor,MS or something even more serious and be paralyzed head to toe or lose a foot or whatever of deadly i can think about. Yes, I'm highly hypochondriac, but i can't help it. I'm too scared. Then again,so far nothing too concerning happened to me and the burning sensation got even more bearable,as i said. I'm still able to walk,jog,run,swim, drive, haven't lost my strength and can do everything I normally could do throughout these four months. And yet I still..."burn". I'm seriously scared. I have to see my psychiatrist as well this week, and given I'm off the meds he's probably gonna tell me i need CBT. As for the neurologist, that's gonna take some more time because i live in Italy and Healthcare in Italy isn't the absolute best. But that's not the point. Guys, what do you think i should do, besides what I'm already doing? Do you think i have a sort of misdiagnosed incurable Neuropathy that is slowly killing me or do you think I'm overreacting? I'm noticing asking for a diagnosis or anything else like that. I just want to know whether I should be seriously afraid or not.

Prequel (Chapters 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie
First ¦ Previous ¦ Royal Road ¦ Patreon
When Kayla awoke, she found herself curled up on a couch in the Banshee’s infirmary. In the nearest bed, Thandi appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Across from her, Yak was hooked up to several scary looking tubes, but her vitals looked stable. Most of the rest of the beds were also filled. Another successful Valkyrie operation, Kayla thought, bitterly.
She didn’t remember the trip back from the planet. She did remember being told that nobody had found any sign of Rayker, and that memory kindled a little of the rage that never burned out. They had been through a nightmare for nothing.
“I wondered how long you would be asleep,” a voice said.
Kayla turned to see Christie sat on the end of her couch. Her friend seemed to be weighed down by sadness as she put aside the tablet she was typing on and smiled back at her.
“Wha— uh…” Kayla managed, as her stiff tongue flapped helplessly. She yawned and stretched.
“Twenty-three wounded in total,” Christie said. “Thandi will walk again in a week. Yak’s going to be in a coma for the next month. Fortunately, nothing struck her vital organs. And, by the way, one of the Raider squads was also involved in a friendly fire incident.”
Kayla focused on her, then looked away. “Jesus,” she said to herself. “God dammit.”
“Thandi wouldn’t like that,” Christie scolded. “Heathen.”
Kayla stood up and began to pace slowly as she wrapped her arms around herself. “I can’t believe I—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Christie said, “because you’ve been asleep for about ten hours. In the interim, I was able to speak with several Rangers about what happened. It was not your fault. Not entirely.”
Kayla shook her head. “Yes, it was. Oh, God, yes it was. I should have seen them, I should have had a stronger optic, I should have—”
“Corporal Rudaski misread her map. So did the leader of second squad. You were both actually in hall hotel-four. The base was constructed in a circular pattern of radially linked zones, orbiting a central facility. It’s a highly abstract layout that we have never seen before. Most Ranger battalions have spent the last several centuries clearing logical, grid-like layouts in ships and bunkers. Under fire, it is easy to see how confusion caused units to lose track of their positions as they advanced. Most of the platoons did, actually, at one point or another. And, in my opinion, we did not have anything like the troop numbers needed to comfortably secure that site. A consequence, no doubt, of Valkyrie’s failure to prepare and train for large scale deployments, for which there has been no requirement in at least a millennia, so they tell me.”
Kayla turned to her with a puzzled expression. “You figured all that out already?”
“I’m drafting a report on the matter. I can’t sleep, you see, because the flaws of this operation stem entirely from the task force’s desire to follow Rayker until she discovered the tracker. We found it in the central command chamber. It was sealed in a wrapping of fat and muscle tissue, which she obviously cut out of herself hours before the tamper alarm sensed the toxins of cell decay. She left it there for us to find. To taunt us, no doubt.”
Christie yawned deeply, stood up and brushed her sweater off. “Do you see, Kayla, that the intelligence team were making decisions based off of my actions on Ambrosia, when I planted that device?” She smiled bitterly. “And I had the arrogance to think I was outwitting the woman. So, in a way, it’s my fault.”
Kayla swallowed and slowly shook her head. Then she grabbed her friend and held her in a tight hug. “War sucks,” she said. “Everything about it is awful.”
“I agree. Nevertheless, we are drawn to it, like moths to a flame perhaps?”
Kayla released her and collapsed into the couch. “When I slept, I had a dream. I was in Plato’s cave, but I got free. Outside there was a dragon, burning everything in sight. The world was covered in ash, and the puppets casting shadows were dead bodies,” She wiped moisture out of her eye. “He said, ‘come out and play, little girl’.”
Christie nodded. “We were lucky nobody was killed today. Rayker will certainly cost us more blood before we manage to catch her. She could have set up a much stronger defense than a battalion of light combat drones, but she didn’t.”
Kayla reached into her pocket and found her necklace. She placed it over her head and ran a thumb over the engraved name.
She looked back at Christie. “Why not?”
“The freighter the Sirène caught was carrying several large combat walkers, produced by that plant. A deep space survey revealed that a second freighter had jumped away earlier. No doubt Rayker’s escape—she seems to have plotted a course opposite the star from where we stopped at the minefield. There seems to be no question that she had the main force of those machines with her.”
“Any idea where they went?”
Christie turned away to retrieve her tablet. “Not yet, unfortunately.”
“May the saints have mercy,” said a voice, “if a shot up woman cannot get a wink of sleep with all the talking in here.”
Kayla whirled around to see Thandi, sitting up in her bed. She darted over and grabbed her into a bearhug.
“I’m really sorry I got you shot,” she said.
“Yeah,” Thandi said looking pleased with herself. “And to apologize, you’ll be fetching me chocolate cake from the mess until I get out of here.” She lowered her voice. “Seriously though, Kayla, I need you. The food is terrible.”
Kayla chuckled. “You can count on me.”
“How are you feeling, wonder woman?”
“Oh, uh… not that wonderful to be honest.”
“Leaping tall structures in a single bound?” Thandi grinned admiringly at her. “You had a bit of a superhero moment.”
Kayla raised her eyebrows. “I tore half the muscles in my body. It was definitely not awesome.”
“Sure looked like it. I don’t even know how you do stuff like that. The Lord moved you.”
Christie cleared her throat and gave Thandi a significant look.
Thandi rolled her eyes. “It’s a compliment—I’m not diminishing what you did.”
Kayla returned her cheerful gaze with a flat expression. She had felt like everyone she cared about was about to die. Like her soul had been lit on fire, and the only way to put it out had been to move like a lightning bolt. It was not something she ever wanted to experience again.
“I was on probation for the incident on Ambrosia,” she reminded Thandi. “I will definitely be dropped back to private from now on.”
“Oh,” Thandi’s sparkling eyes darkened. “Well, that sucks. I hope they don’t. You straight up saved us all from an ambush at the start of that firefight. And the illume drone—you made lots of good calls down there.”
Kayla shook her head. “I shouldn’t be a team leader. I keep losing control. I can’t let… I don’t respond well when any of you are in danger.”
Thandi grabbed her hand, and squeezed it. “What happens to us is not up to you, my dear. It’s in God’s hands alone.”
Kayla didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sure if she could accept that.
“How’s the pain?” Christie asked.
“Oh,” Thandi said and waved her hand. “Nothing too severe. I think of how Rose would be responding, and I know I can handle anything.”
Christie nodded silently.
“She speaks to me, in my dreams. She tells me how proud she is of us.” Thandi glanced at Kayla. “She says you are a true leader.”
Kayla turned away, unable to keep her eyes from tearing up.
“Will you be up in time for the merger?” Christie asked.
“On crutches maybe,” Thandi said. “But I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I can’t imagine anything more glorious.”
“What’s that?” Kayla asked before slowly turning back.
“The Banshee is returning to Tyr,” Christie explained. “On the way back, we have been tasked with collecting a probe that was observing a binary star merger. We will have the opportunity to observe the event live.”
“Whatever,” Kayla said with an eye roll. She was a little offended that their task force had been assigned a science project after what had happened. “Nerd stuff, right?”
Christie laughed, and met Thandi’s eyes with a smirk. “If you say so.”
Thandi shifted against her pillows. “How is the mood of the ship?” she said to Christie. “Are people still angry?”
“What do you mean?” Kayla cut in.
Thandi glanced back and forth between them. “You didn’t tell her?”
Christie waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, but with all that’s happening I didn’t think it pertinent. Why add to our already substantial burdens?”
“What’s going on?” Kayla demanded, and felt her hair stand on end.
Christie smiled tightly. “ODT Four seized the freighter and searched it thoroughly. No evidence of Rayker, as I said.”
“Yeah? And?”
“Well, they found a false compartment in one of the holds. And there were a pair of young teenagers inside. A boy and a girl.”
“In rags, and chained up,” Thandi added.
Kayla realized her jaw had clenched. She felt her skin crawl with a new kind of horror. “Oh my God,” she said, then glanced at Thandi. “Sorry.”
“In this case you get a dispensation.”
“Obviously,” Christie continued, “the pour souls will be returned to their families. A terrible situation.”
Kayla’s mind buzzed with questions. “What is—uh… where was it from? The ship?”
“Intaba,” Thandi said sullenly. “A VennZech registered vessel. Justice cannot come swiftly enough for the demon scum who perpetrated this evil on my homeworld…” she frowned as she lost her words, and clenched her fists together.
“Do you think Valkyrie will start interdicting their ships?” Kayla asked.
“No,” Christie said. “Hence the angry mood. It is a problem the organization has faced since humanity took to the stars. The chieftains have resolutely refused to address it. Our mission statement is to protect humanity, not interfere with their conduct. Frankly I have to agree with them, though I appear to be in the minority.”
Kayla stared at her incredulously. “But that’s bullshit,” she said. “How can you be okay with letting something like that go?”
Christie arched an eyebrow. “A secret army of super soldiers, with access to civilization destroying technology, and who answer—as far as we know—to nobody but themselves? The very thought of interfering gives me an existential crisis. However tragic the situation, it seems obvious that we must maintain our distance.”
Kayla shook her head. She already felt hot anger driving her to act. How could such monsters be allowed to walk freely in a just galaxy?
“All that it takes for evil to succeed—” Thandi began.
“Please can we not continue this conversation?” Christie snapped. “I’ve had enough of being insulted by some of my colleagues. I don’t want it from my friends too.”
Kayla exchanged looks with Thandi, but she owed her best friend the space she wanted.
“I promise, I won’t bring it up again, Chris,” she said.
***
Kayla ate in the ship’s mess then returned to her bunk, where the rest of the squad were waiting. They were talking in somber tones, but fell silent when she approached.
Kes stood up and beckoned to her. “Platoon ready room, this way.”
Once shut away in privacy, Kes sat her down and they retraced every event that had occurred inside the base. Every decision was picked apart minutely, with no judgement or grievance allowed.
“I needed us to go through this as soon as possible,” she explained. “This will sit with you for the rest of your life. We all made mistakes, but nobody should feel incriminated. I have been through five blue on blue incidents. This shit just happens, and I guarantee it will happen to you again in the future.”
Kayla felt a little relief as she spoke with her squad leader and found that she was neither alone, nor justified in hating herself. They had been moving quickly through a confusing environment, making a deadly situation much more likely.
“One last thing, though,” Kes added somberly. “Private Voigt from second squad fired the burst that hit Yak and Thandi. She is being removed from the battalion. By her own account, she returned Yak’s fire without any kind of communication with her team leader, or any attempt to check the position of friendlies. That was a major SOP violation when she knew they were expecting to move in our direction.”
Kayla absorbed this with shock. She couldn’t argue with it; after all, what good was a Ranger who couldn’t do her job? And didn’t that mean that the same punishment should apply to her?
She cleared her throat. Terror gnawed at her insides as Kes stared at her expectantly.
“I lost control again,” Kayla said.
“Yup,” Kes said, and rubbed her eyes with obvious frustration. “And this time, your actions swiftly ended a dangerous firefight following a terrible accident. Yak got immediate medical attention because of that. On the other hand, you put yourself in a position to be killed or wounded where no-one could help you.”
There was a long pause while the corporal appeared to search a distant horizon. “You don’t need a lecture, and Akane can’t make a decision on you. Yak was my next choice for Lance Corporal, but she’s out of action, along with a bunch of others. Together with this Rayker shitshow, it is not the time to be shuffling people around.”
Kayla’s brow furrowed “What about Ray?”
“Oh,” Kes ran a hand through her hair. “Every time I’ve offered it, she’s refused. Anyway, we’ve already been told by Captain Aguilar to expect a new private out of Ranger school once we return to Tyr.”
“Yes, Corporal,” Kayla said, unsure what to think about the decision.
“I’ve seen you make good decisions in the field. But I will push to replace you when the opportunity comes up again.” Kes narrowed her eyes. “Unless you can show me I’m wrong before that happens.”
Kayla left the room with her head spinning. She was keeping her job, even though she obviously didn’t have what it took to lead Rangers in combat.
First ¦ Previous ¦ Royal Road ¦ Patreon
Prequel (Chapters 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie

Edit: The downvotes have begun but hopefully that means people are reading till the end too. Will have to try the BridgertonRants sub as that seems more accepting of discussions and debates. : )
Would super appreciate it if everyone reads this long-ass thesis of a post with an open mind and to the end...its me being vulnerable in an anonymous reddit sub because i think these things matter in the larger framework of a uniquely special show and the big, bright, beautiful, multicultural gorgeous world we all as humans live in. My last post in this sub was downvoted to hell which btw totally ok...and i dont depend on reddit currency for my livelihood so its all good. I just care about my posts being read...specially this one.
Some context:
I'm very new to this community and reddit as well. Currently have time off work and going ham on reddit and venturing very scared into the deep dark of world of rabid fandoms and small niche communities. Getting a little burnt along the way but also learning from some super talented fans with their own eye-opening ideas and funny posts. Fans of all kinds, Im peeping into profiles, so white, black, brown multicolored rainbow of the world right here.
I'm also an aspiring writer and well...some of my best ideas have come from reddit lurking on cool and active subs with bridgerton sub being new for me. Jet lagged, anxious and just a tad bit antsy, I'm trying to go down and deep and maybe open some deeper discussions here.
I am Indian and lived primarily in India my whole life and now for the last 10 years between London and Canada (why am I sharing all this like and am I also going to tell you my weight, my height etc too...No but hopefully you'll understand this revelation as you read ahead without me spelling it out)
So I've been trying to figure out why fan wars as they pertain to this show prick so personally, so particularly.
I think fandoms anywhere in every country are full of insane people, obsessive chronically online people who find comfort through living through their faves..your beyonce stans, your rihanna stans, your Taylor Swift stans, your harry styles stans, your k pop stans, etc etc..
This show also has some rabid fans..But there is a conversation I want to open up only because I think it's important...Is fighting extra hard for your poc fave because you know their representation in pop culture is limited, their getting jobs is limited, subconscious biases exist even though we have been making great strides and even eradicated overt biases in employment, in accessibility, in government service etc etc ..and their culture not as dominant, their worlds not as seen or coveted.
Our ideas of beauty are framed by the extensiveness and longevity of colonial rule across the world.
there are shit people across all ethnicities religions and genders and nationalities. Barbarians, conquerors, invaders, pillaging villages raping women destroying livelihoods suppressing the peasant class, mutilating and diluting cultures- exist in Africa, the Indian subcontinent, East asia, middle East etc so not just Britain. Basically being brown, black or East Asian and Middle Eastern doesnt grant you moral superiority over white people and you can be racist and casteist and colorist and bigoted and biased and just all around shitty and criminal as a black, brown, east asian middle eastern etc etc person just as much as white people.
So now that thats settled, lets look at specific issues that POC only face because that eventually streams into the show and its politics and its discussion as well.
But for whatever reason ...the British were able to colonize on a scale that the other countries and ethnicities were not able to.. African and the Indian subcontinent's conquests and invasions were limited in area and time period...their scale of conquest limited to a small radius around their own countries...and not foreign lands travelled via sea etc.
As a result and only as a result and not because and I cannot emphasize enough that black, brown or east asian invaders, rulers etc were morally superior, kinder, less assholes...the culture that became dominant was white british culture..or european culture...if Indians had conquered the world, they would have imposed their culture on the lands and countries they invaded, if different African countries invaded the world to the extent of the british colonists, same thing...the dominant culture that would have been forcibly imposed by the people of african ethnicity would be their culture... Black skin would have been considered beautiful, white fair skin would not have been the standard....thats history....thats something we know to be true even through modern wars...the victor dictates...But that simply didnt happen.
it's not because t Africans or Asians or basically non white people are morally superior, more virtuous, incapable of terrorist acts or colonizing or I don't know were like we don't invade and conquest, we so good. But because that's history. They just didn't manage it. thats simply our current historical reality.
Being that the country or countries that did manage to conquer the world or close to 9/10ths of it were Europeans or more specifically British white nationals..which means as would happen even if another nationality had managed to invade the world, the culture that is dominant across the world is a west/white slanted world..
Colorism as a concept didnt exist until colonization: Why would it? If everyone existed under the same harsh sun, had the same skin color with minor variances...why would they think fair is more beautiful. Its because they wouldnt...the first blond haired blue eyed people would have been introduced to India via early traders of east india company in India and dutch colonists before them...Its like if everyone around you is brown, you assume thats just how everyone else looks like...thats the only reality you know...you simply havent seen anyone look any different..you havent seen blue eyes or anything else....same for africans and within that framework as humans are wont to do you create ideas of beauty.
So yes. POCs across the globe had just as arbitrary ideas of beauty as white people (chiense mutilated young women feet cuz small feet more beautiful, in africa genital mutiliation) because humans are humans and humans mess everything up...and animals are so much better...but color as a construct is a colonial one and one which managed to find deeep deep roots because of the extent of the rule, the sheer longevity, For context, India has been independent for the last 75 years..from over 200 years of colonial british rule...Not even the length of the life of a single human. Not even as long as Britains former queen was alive. It will take some more time for that in fighting and ideas of colorism deeply penetrated from the inheritance of our rulers to get dismanted...and totally thrown own...because you can freee from literall bondage more easily, the mind takes longer to adjust and form independent thought. But it will happen.
White people are not more or less racist than POC. Thats not a thing. There are shit people and you can find shit people anywhere...I have shit people right in my own home country, bigots, destroying the diversity of India by bullshit tactics...
But as it stands...because this cultural superiority of British and white people took over, the framing of beauty, of whats fashionable, of whats cool, of whats civilized is all seen through the lens of white culture...eating with hands which many cultures across the world do uncivilized unhygienic, paris fashions and made in italy...mark of excellence...made in India and China...cheap, low quality, scammers and shit people, (thats not to say shit people and scammers dont exist in India and China and there arent industries of scammers across these poorer nations but there is also denying the equisite craftasmanship across fashion and beauty in both countries-China and India.
Brown skin bad, even darker skin even bad etc etc...We wear clothes that our colonial masters did across the world, you wont find people in china wearing Chinese clothes, same for India, african countries etc...everything from clothing, to beauty, to furniture, to houses everything indigenous was changed to a foreign ideal from our rulers. The same would have happened whoever whichever ethnicity had invaded the world...like i said above..
Now and thanks for reading whoever read till here and I hope a lot of people did-on to to the show...
There is this frequent refrain and accusation of oppression olympics that I read about when it comes to this show, in general online discourse and also this insanely disgusting article fat shaming Nicola Coughlan in The Spectator.
And i really really want to open up this conversation...cuz race gets discussed a lot on this sub and other bridgerton subs and therefore a perfect place to have that conversation...Do Non-POC really believe in the concept of oppression olympics and that all kinds of biases are equally treacherous to navigate?
So I was overweight in my teens...I had a close friend who was wheelchair bound. my life was hard and I was bullied but surely surely I do not think that my plight was the same as my friend in a wheelchair...In class 10th, a close friend's father passed away, the same year my grandmother passed away, surely, surely, I dont think we are experiencing the same pain the same setback to our life...Class 10th in India is akin to A levels in Britain and SAT in the USA..
You know why I didnt think any of this and why if I had i was wrong, because there is a hierarchy to opression, .to loss, to struggles. There simply is. Opression Olympics is rooted in reality.
Pain is pain, loss and bad foundations suck ass...but privilege is a thing and some pains some loads just lighter compared to others. I could lose weight and get over the oppression I was facing because of my weight in school. My wheelchair bound friend didnt have that option..I wouldnt get my grandmother back...but my fathers loss would have a more immediate affect on my life and my friend who lost her father and her loss was just simply deeper. She needed more support, more help, more people crowding around her saying you've got this Niharika..well make sure your life doesnt change permanently cuz youlve lost your dad.
So when show fandom compare Jonathon Baileys struggle to Rege Jean George or say Victor Ali, they are simply pointing out that yes while Jonathon Bailey is gay...there is a difference between being white and gay and being black and gay or simply harder being black. And therefore there is a hierarchy. Why POC are less loath to crticize the average acting of their POC faves because they know the opportunities for them are limited. Lets do an exercise name 5 shows led by a POC in the USA or Britain or Canada-any POC..brown, black i dont care. And im not talking about black or brown actors in a show or film, im talking leads...
Also biases are self perpetuating....When black or brown led films fail, the opportunities immediately dry up because it shows that its just fairness and the numbers dont lie..Except this is not maths.....Maths would be first making equal amount of shows starring black or brown people, and then comparing...Now if the end result is white led shows do better-that would be correct math...but ratios and comparisons and statistics need to first start with an even scale...thats not even me taking about diversity...thats just math formulas...
If lets say there are 500 actors who are white in hollywood and 200 who are Black in hollywood, and lets say all 200 black actors are shit...would you say the statement...god white actors are so much better than black actors...no cuz the maths is not adding up...you compared 500 actors who were white of which 300 were excellent 200 bad and you made that into the conclusion that white actors are better because you were comparing only with 200 black actors to begin with...the actual math formula yieled equal number of bad and good actors..
Why people defend Kanthony harder...or wanted Simone Ashley to be promoted as much as Polin is because (lets go with my Math analogy again) all things being the same) unless Nicola and Luke are really bad actors compared to Simone Ashley, theyll still have it easier in acting...they simply will. they wont have to change their confusingly, long foreign sounding name, they wont have to work at assimilation in other ways, lets say they were muslim they wouldnt have been trying hard to sell themselves as Im just as liberal as you, im not a threat. And I love Luke Newton and Nicola Coughland-both seem like throughly, likable, personable, kind hearted beans..
Now my own experience. I have stated in an earlier post on this sub that I'm a Shonda Rhimes fan...because I have personally benefitted from the diversity she has included so naturally, so elegantly in all her shows. My own ideas of beauty, have been tested and transformed. In fact I know exactly the moment it happened...watching Christina Yang as a 14 year old...and thinking god meredith is so beautiful and I want to see more of HER and Izzie but then seeing christina again and again and again over each episode over hundreds of hours of binging, school, college, masters, big move outside India, my own constant this show..my brain was soft mushy and impressionable and christina yang, korean Sandra Oh became suddenly but actually slowly and then all at once became beautiful to me...I dont know when it happened but like the book Colin telling Penelope I dont know when or how and why others dont see it but you ARE beautiful in the book carriage scene. I found her hot, I found her cool. I cared to learn more about her Korean mother and her Jewish father and it didnt matter that the show never covered that culture..Christina was atheist and could handle her shit..even around racists.. But I still wanted to learn more about HER..a woman I simply didnt think was beautiful comparable to meredith and Izzie..me an impressionable 14 year old..just made that turn because of a show.,..a fluffy...not that deep soapy as hell show.
But it was only possible cuz I saw 24 episodes day in day out,...over many many years....for that to happen. I had many more years of falling asleep to dawsons creek joey and dawson, joey and pacey, gilmore girls rory and jess rory and dean rory and logan..i imagined and dreamt of windswept Mr. Darcy...and of course I luckily had my own countrys pop culture cuz I grew up and lived in a country where I was repped plenty eveywhere... So i found bollwood heroes hot and I found White americans or british people hot...my brain simply didnt have a framework for East Asians hot. And I needed to seem them constantly and frequentlyn and in Hot front and center, desirable covetable-their culture, their families all respected, admired again and again and again over many years for that switch to happen.
So why do we fight for our POV faves.. fight hard (some fight really ugly too which....they are not my people ( as in I dont know them) so sorry for that)....because we know how much more repping they need...we know how much MORE MORE MORE important it is to see POC culture done right...because it simply is not accessible,...cannot be to people outside..
K POP is making waves super..., people love themselves some MANGA and kimchi...so good and progress...but a lot of countries pop culture is in the native tongue...people outside of it cannot access it...in the same way one would English language content-books, podcasts, news, films, shows etc etc. And hollywood does our culture wrong, played up for laughs, stinky curry, stinky indians, scamming Indians, uncivilized heathens, oh so funny that Sofia Vergara and her funny accent (The Ellen Show), niche shows that dont become popular behemoths because it stars all ethnic casts-Fresh Off the Boat.
You simply will not understand how brilliant and gorgeous my country's embroideries, temple art, clothing and fashion, actors and sculptors, museums and writing and authors are...not because YOU are racist..but because you dont speak-my language and my culture isnt dominant or wide spread enough-insert again-my above explanation of colonialism and dominant and suppressed cultures. History made one culture the most widespread...again not because white people, bad and racist...brown and black people good and not racist and benevolent..but they simply were the victors...for centuries...plural.
We want to fight harder for Rege and defend him leaving the show (im not even black but when you live outside of your home country, all POC seem like a united underrepresented group and you find kinship everywhere) because any potential cancellation or quote unquote unlikeability and hes difficult accusations would hurt him far far more than Nicola Coughlan, Luke Thompson, Newton, Phoebe etc. for the same crimes. And there just arent enough of us to begin with to lose even one. For what is quite honestly a mid Netflix show with seeds of promise but a lack of ambition.

Prequel (Parts 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie
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When Kayla awoke, she found herself curled up on a couch in the Banshee’s infirmary. In the nearest bed, Thandi appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Across from her, Yak was hooked up to several scary looking tubes, but her vitals looked stable. Most of the rest of the beds were also filled. Another successful Valkyrie operation, Kayla thought, bitterly.
She didn’t remember the trip back from the planet. She did remember being told that nobody had found any sign of Rayker, and that memory kindled a little of the rage that never burned out. They had been through a nightmare for nothing.
“I wondered how long you would be asleep,” a voice said.
Kayla turned to see Christie sat on the end of her couch. Her friend seemed to be weighed down by sadness as she put aside the tablet she was typing on and smiled back at her.
“Wha— uh…” Kayla managed, as her stiff tongue flapped helplessly. She yawned and stretched.
“Twenty-three wounded in total,” Christie said. “Thandi will walk again in a week. Yak’s going to be in a coma for the next month. Fortunately, nothing struck her vital organs. And, by the way, one of the Raider squads was also involved in a friendly fire incident.”
Kayla focused on her, then looked away. “Jesus,” she said to herself. “God dammit.”
“Thandi wouldn’t like that,” Christie scolded. “Heathen.”
Kayla stood up and began to pace slowly as she wrapped her arms around herself. “I can’t believe I—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Christie said, “because you’ve been asleep for about ten hours. In the interim, I was able to speak with several Rangers about what happened. It was not your fault. Not entirely.”
Kayla shook her head. “Yes, it was. Oh, God, yes it was. I should have seen them, I should have had a stronger optic, I should have—”
“Corporal Rudaski misread her map. So did the leader of second squad. You were both actually in hall hotel-four. The base was constructed in a circular pattern of radially linked zones, orbiting a central facility. It’s a highly abstract layout that we have never seen before. Most Ranger battalions have spent the last several centuries clearing logical, grid-like layouts in ships and bunkers. Under fire, it is easy to see how confusion caused units to lose track of their positions as they advanced. Most of the platoons did, actually, at one point or another. And, in my opinion, we did not have anything like the troop numbers needed to comfortably secure that site. A consequence, no doubt, of Valkyrie’s failure to prepare and train for large scale deployments, for which there has been no requirement in at least a millennia, so they tell me.”
Kayla turned to her with a puzzled expression. “You figured all that out already?”
“I’m drafting a report on the matter. I can’t sleep, you see, because the flaws of this operation stem entirely from the task force’s desire to follow Rayker until she discovered the tracker. We found it in the central command chamber. It was sealed in a wrapping of fat and muscle tissue, which she obviously cut out of herself hours before the tamper alarm sensed the toxins of cell decay. She left it there for us to find. To taunt us, no doubt.”
Christie yawned deeply, stood up and brushed her sweater off. “Do you see, Kayla, that the intelligence team were making decisions based off of my actions on Ambrosia, when I planted that device?” She smiled bitterly. “And I had the arrogance to think I was outwitting the woman. So, in a way, it’s my fault.”
Kayla swallowed and slowly shook her head. Then she grabbed her friend and held her in a tight hug. “War sucks,” she said. “Everything about it is awful.”
“I agree. Nevertheless, we are drawn to it, like moths to a flame perhaps?”
Kayla released her and collapsed into the couch. “When I slept, I had a dream. I was in Plato’s cave, but I got free. Outside there was a dragon, burning everything in sight. The world was covered in ash, and the puppets casting shadows were dead bodies,” She wiped moisture out of her eye. “He said, ‘come out and play, little girl’.”
Christie nodded. “We were lucky nobody was killed today. Rayker will certainly cost us more blood before we manage to catch her. She could have set up a much stronger defense than a battalion of light combat drones, but she didn’t.”
Kayla reached into her pocket and found her necklace. She placed it over her head and ran a thumb over the engraved name.
She looked back at Christie. “Why not?”
“The freighter the Sirène caught was carrying several large combat walkers, produced by that plant. A deep space survey revealed that a second freighter had jumped away earlier. No doubt Rayker’s escape—she seems to have plotted a course opposite the star from where we stopped at the minefield. There seems to be no question that she had the main force of those machines with her.”
“Any idea where they went?”
Christie turned away to retrieve her tablet. “Not yet, unfortunately.”
“May the saints have mercy,” said a voice, “if a shot up woman cannot get a wink of sleep with all the talking in here.”
Kayla whirled around to see Thandi, sitting up in her bed. She darted over and grabbed her into a bearhug.
“I’m really sorry I got you shot,” she said.
“Yeah,” Thandi said looking pleased with herself. “And to apologize, you’ll be fetching me chocolate cake from the mess until I get out of here.” She lowered her voice. “Seriously though, Kayla, I need you. The food is terrible.”
Kayla chuckled. “You can count on me.”
“How are you feeling, wonder woman?”
“Oh, uh… not that wonderful to be honest.”
“Leaping tall structures in a single bound?” Thandi grinned admiringly at her. “You had a bit of a superhero moment.”
Kayla raised her eyebrows. “I tore half the muscles in my body. It was definitely not awesome.”
“Sure looked like it. I don’t even know how you do stuff like that. The Lord moved you.”
Christie cleared her throat and gave Thandi a significant look.
Thandi rolled her eyes. “It’s a compliment—I’m not diminishing what you did.”
Kayla returned her cheerful gaze with a flat expression. She had felt like everyone she cared about was about to die. Like her soul had been lit on fire, and the only way to put it out had been to move like a lightning bolt. It was not something she ever wanted to experience again.
“I was on probation for the incident on Ambrosia,” she reminded Thandi. “I will definitely be dropped back to private from now on.”
“Oh,” Thandi’s sparkling eyes darkened. “Well, that sucks. I hope they don’t. You straight up saved us all from an ambush at the start of that firefight. And the illume drone—you made lots of good calls down there.”
Kayla shook her head. “I shouldn’t be a team leader. I keep losing control. I can’t let… I don’t respond well when any of you are in danger.”
Thandi grabbed her hand, and squeezed it. “What happens to us is not up to you, my dear. It’s in God’s hands alone.”
Kayla didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sure if she could accept that.
“How’s the pain?” Christie asked.
“Oh,” Thandi said and waved her hand. “Nothing too severe. I think of how Rose would be responding, and I know I can handle anything.”
Christie nodded silently.
“She speaks to me, in my dreams. She tells me how proud she is of us.” Thandi glanced at Kayla. “She says you are a true leader.”
Kayla turned away, unable to keep her eyes from tearing up.
“Will you be up in time for the merger?” Christie asked.
“On crutches maybe,” Thandi said. “But I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I can’t imagine anything more glorious.”
“What’s that?” Kayla asked before slowly turning back.
“The Banshee is returning to Tyr,” Christie explained. “On the way back, we have been tasked with collecting a probe that was observing a binary star merger. We will have the opportunity to observe the event live.”
“Whatever,” Kayla said with an eye roll. She was a little offended that their task force had been assigned a science project after what had happened. “Nerd stuff, right?”
Christie laughed, and met Thandi’s eyes with a smirk. “If you say so.”
Thandi shifted against her pillows. “How is the mood of the ship?” she said to Christie. “Are people still angry?”
“What do you mean?” Kayla cut in.
Thandi glanced back and forth between them. “You didn’t tell her?”
Christie waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, but with all that’s happening I didn’t think it pertinent. Why add to our already substantial burdens?”
“What’s going on?” Kayla demanded, and felt her hair stand on end.
Christie smiled tightly. “ODT Four seized the freighter and searched it thoroughly. No evidence of Rayker, as I said.”
“Yeah? And?”
“Well, they found a false compartment in one of the holds. And there were a pair of young teenagers inside. A boy and a girl.”
“In rags, and chained up,” Thandi added.
Kayla realized her jaw had clenched. She felt her skin crawl with a new kind of horror. “Oh my God,” she said, then glanced at Thandi. “Sorry.”
“In this case you get a dispensation.”
“Obviously,” Christie continued, “the pour souls will be returned to their families. A terrible situation.”
Kayla’s mind buzzed with questions. “What is—uh… where was it from? The ship?”
“Intaba,” Thandi said sullenly. “A VennZech registered vessel. Justice cannot come swiftly enough for the demon scum who perpetrated this evil on my homeworld…” she frowned as she lost her words, and clenched her fists together.
“Do you think Valkyrie will start interdicting their ships?” Kayla asked.
“No,” Christie said. “Hence the angry mood. It is a problem the organization has faced since humanity took to the stars. The chieftains have resolutely refused to address it. Our mission statement is to protect humanity, not interfere with their conduct. Frankly I have to agree with them, though I appear to be in the minority.”
Kayla stared at her incredulously. “But that’s bullshit,” she said. “How can you be okay with letting something like that go?”
Christie arched an eyebrow. “A secret army of super soldiers, with access to civilization destroying technology, and who answer—as far as we know—to nobody but themselves? The very thought of interfering gives me an existential crisis. However tragic the situation, it seems obvious that we must maintain our distance.”
Kayla shook her head. She already felt hot anger driving her to act. How could such monsters be allowed to walk freely in a just galaxy?
“All that it takes for evil to succeed—” Thandi began.
“Please can we not continue this conversation?” Christie snapped. “I’ve had enough of being insulted by some of my colleagues. I don’t want it from my friends too.”
Kayla exchanged looks with Thandi, but she owed her best friend the space she wanted.
“I promise, I won’t bring it up again, Chris,” she said.
***
Kayla ate in the ship’s mess then returned to her bunk, where the rest of the squad were waiting. They were talking in somber tones, but fell silent when she approached.
Kes stood up and beckoned to her. “Platoon ready room, this way.”
Once shut away in privacy, Kes sat her down and they retraced every event that had occurred inside the base. Every decision was picked apart minutely, with no judgement or grievance allowed.
“I needed us to go through this as soon as possible,” she explained. “This will sit with you for the rest of your life. We all made mistakes, but nobody should feel incriminated. I have been through five blue on blue incidents. This shit just happens, and I guarantee it will happen to you again in the future.”
Kayla felt a little relief as she spoke with her squad leader and found that she was neither alone, nor justified in hating herself. They had been moving quickly through a confusing environment, making a deadly situation much more likely.
“One last thing, though,” Kes added somberly. “Private Voigt from second squad fired the burst that hit Yak and Thandi. She is being removed from the battalion. By her own account, she returned Yak’s fire without any kind of communication with her team leader, or any attempt to check the position of friendlies. That was a major SOP violation when she knew they were expecting to move in our direction.”
Kayla absorbed this with shock. She couldn’t argue with it; after all, what good was a Ranger who couldn’t do her job? And didn’t that mean that the same punishment should apply to her?
She cleared her throat. Terror gnawed at her insides as Kes stared at her expectantly.
“I lost control again,” Kayla said.
“Yup,” Kes said, and rubbed her eyes with obvious frustration. “And this time, your actions swiftly ended a dangerous firefight following a terrible accident. Yak got immediate medical attention because of that. On the other hand, you put yourself in a position to be killed or wounded where no-one could help you.”
There was a long pause while the corporal appeared to search a distant horizon. “You don’t need a lecture, and Akane can’t make a decision on you. Yak was my next choice for Lance Corporal, but she’s out of action, along with a bunch of others. Together with this Rayker shitshow, it is not the time to be shuffling people around.”
Kayla’s brow furrowed “What about Ray?”
“Oh,” Kes ran a hand through her hair. “Every time I’ve offered it, she’s refused. Anyway, we’ve already been told by Captain Aguilar to expect a new private out of Ranger school once we return to Tyr.”
“Yes, Corporal,” Kayla said, unsure what to think about the decision.
“I’ve seen you make good decisions in the field. But I will push to replace you when the opportunity comes up again.” Kes narrowed her eyes. “Unless you can show me I’m wrong before that happens.”
Kayla left the room with her head spinning. She was keeping her job, even though she obviously didn’t have what it took to lead Rangers in combat.
First ¦ Previous ¦ Royal Road ¦ Patreon
Prequel (Parts 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie

Hi,
A few weeks ago I went to the doctor for a random small Lyme disease esque rash on my hand. While I was there I also brought up a recurring skin rash on my arm I’d been having for a while - initially this was a pretty big hives breakout that lasted about 2 weeks. I went to urgent care and got a steroid cream that got rid of it.
Since then, I’ve noticed occasional little bumps like the ones you get with contact dermatitis, but they go away quickly. I’ve also noticed this weird redness like in a pattern on my forearms, but it’s not raised or itchy. It changes daily, sometimes goes away and sometimes it’s really hot.
My Ana came back at an 80, which I know is not really concerning at all. They still referred me to a rheumatologist, and I’m not sure what other things I should bring up.
So you’re someone with an autoimmune condition could you let me know what things might be relevant?
I have a few lumps under my skin in my neck, under my chin and near my groin area, as well as one in my wrist. I assume these are just lymph nodes though?
I always hear a grinding noise in my shoulders when I move them, they are tense and hurt and cause headaches in the back of my head.
I recently started having tmj and my jaw always pops when I open it. It hurts a little bit, but I can still chew.
I have a difficult time sleeping and will often wake up at like 330 and not be able to go back to sleep. I will often usually feel tired even if I did sleep well.
I feel lightheaded/dizzy pretty often. If I stand up quick my vision will start to go out a little bit, and if I’m in a hot shower for too long I will start to feel sick and feel like I’m going to pass out.
I have low hemoglobin and am b12 deficient/ anemic
I’m 23F also.

At 24 now my eczema has gotten much better than it used to be. But throughout my entire teen life (middle/high school) and a little after I had severe eczema on my arms, legs, neck, face, eye areas and so on. As we all probably know it's a terrible feeling and makes you feel gross, so you try to do anything to make it go away. Well, my eye areas were pretty terrible for a while and I treated it with hydrocortisone cream, not knowing all the effects of steroid creams. I noticed in the following years that the dark circles under my eyes have gotten much much worse and I believe it is because of the steroid cream thinning my skin around my eyes. It's been several years since I've stopped using it around my eyes and the dark circles have not gotten any better, so it seems like it's permanent. But I am sure there are solutions to help it and I'm determined to figure it out, and would love to know if anyone else has been in this situation and what they did to help it. I've been taking a stem cell eye cream for about a month and a half, along with about 6-8 grams of collagen everyday. So far I think the results are minuscule if any, so I'm looking for other solutions also. Id love to hear any other solutions/suggestions! Thanks!

***ads play and podcast starts at 1:47
Intro (Timestamp: 1:47) - Rachel: Welcome back to another episode of Rachel Goes Rogue. This is your host, Rachel Savannah Leviss. Today, we are talking about part three of the Vanderpump Rules reunion. - Rachel: It has finally come to an end, season 11. It's been a long time coming, and we're here to react. I have my producers with me, and as usual, they will be asking me some questions to get my perspective on what we just watched during the reunion.
Well, first of all, I want to start off with asking you just your overall thoughts on the reunion, watching it. How do you feel? (Timestamp: 2:19) - Rachel: Overall, I just feel tired at this point. I don't enjoy watching this show, and (Rachel starts to get emotional) I'm just happy that it's over. It was good that they didn't talk about me very much this last episode, part three. - Rachel: That's great, but it's been really difficult watching each week. And I feel like I can finally start to move on from all of this, because it's been really difficult. It was really heavy and sad. - Rachel: And I think everyone on that cast is struggling. And I would be too if I was there. I mean, I'm struggling just watching it from the sidelines, so I can only imagine what it's like being on that stage.
So you're getting really emotional right now. Where is this emotion coming from? (Timestamp: 3:28) - Rachel: It's coming from a place of feeling like I haven't had much room to go. Feeling like stuck between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. Because this entire time, I have been preparing for them to slander my name, to paint me in the worst light. - Rachel: And my goal with this podcast was to be able to represent myself, to defend myself, to share what I've learned through my time that I took away and my recovery, and just to shed more light on the situation. - Rachel: And it hasn't been easy. It's been an extreme rollercoaster of emotions in a lot of different phases, getting sucked back into it, and then feeling like all consumed by all the comments and everything, and then completely cutting off communication with the outside world and living in my own reality in the moment. It's all about that balance, and it has not been easy to move on. - Rachel: I don't think it's been easy for any of the cast to move on rehashing it and talking about it and having other people tune in. It's not typical. It's not normal. And the day has finally come that the show, season 11, is over, and it's a relief to me because I don't have to keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. - Rachel: I don't have to think about what lies they're going to spread about me, and I don't have to think about what I need to defend myself about. And then following week, I feel like I can finally start to live my life again.
And so you're kind of talking about the boundaries that you've been setting by staying away and cutting people off, which obviously boundaries was a really big topic at the reunion. You obviously set some really strong ones by not returning to the show. What's your take on this discussion of boundaries? Do you agree with Lala or do you side more with Ariana when it comes to boundaries when it's in regard to filming the show? (Timestamp: 5:40) - Rachel: I could see both of their points of view. Setting a boundary for yourself is not an easy thing to do. And when other people are upset that you set a boundary for yourself, that's usually a telltale sign that that person is using you in some way and is not happy that you have this new boundary because it's not serving them. - Rachel: So, I can see why Ariana upholded her boundaries by not speaking to Tom, even though she actually did film with Tom this whole season, or for the later part anyway. But she refused to have that conversation with Tom at the end of the show, and I commend her for it because it would have been a fake conversation. You could tell that Tom, his only motive to having that conversation with her is for camera purposes and storyline purposes. - Rachel: Therefore, it's not an authentic conversation. It would have been crocodile tears, the whole thing. And I completely understand Ariana walking away. I walked away too, and people weren't happy about that either. - Rachel: For Lala's point of view, I can understand her perspective in wanting to have a good TV show for her livelihood and the longevity of her career. If you're going to commit to filming, then I can see why Lala is upset, because you are not only committing to filming with this person, I can see her point in that she is living under the same roof as Tom. - Rachel: They're living together, they're filming together, yet in Lala's eyes, Ariana is being stubborn by not filming with Tom, or that one scene. Who even cares about that one scene? I don't know. - Rachel: It's all so silly to me, but boundaries are important. I was in a place where I didn't have boundaries, and I was really trying to appease production and put on a good show. That became my priority season 10.
And where do you think the line needs to be drawn, you know? When at the end of the day, this is a paycheck and this is a job, versus this is someone's real life. You've talked a lot about wanting to live in reality. Where do you think that line should be drawn? (Timestamp: 8:32) - Rachel: I think that's an impossible question to answer when you're filming a reality TV show, because the line is so blurry, it's impossible to know what's real and what's not. And the more I'm out of it, the clearer I can see that. We see it with Tom Sandoval when he talked about production. - Rachel: He did the New York Times article, and he stopped talking mid sentence when a plane flew over or a truck drove by, whatever it was, because the audio, typically when we're filming a show and a plane flies by, you stop talking so that the audio can pick up normally without the distraction in the background. - Rachel: So it's like programmed in your mind to think a certain way, to act a certain way, to talk a certain way, to pursue certain things, where it becomes a part of your patterning. We also see the lines get blurred with Scheana and the comment section, and what is real life and what is not, what is her own true motivation for doing certain things, and what is influenced by outside commentary. - Rachel: That gets so blurry, and when you're all consumed in the perception of yourself, how can you really be sure that you're operating from a place of an inner knowing? That's a boundary that's blurred. With Lala, she clearly prioritizes the success of the show because she wants to secure her paycheck, and when people are setting boundaries for themselves and it's conflicting with what she wants and what is successful in her eyes, that sparks an anger within her. - Rachel: And it's all fabricated to a certain point because the bottom line is this show. So, I think it truly is impossible to live a real life and be on a reality TV show.
So, do you think it's fair for Lala to direct that anger towards Ariana? Or do you think she should be directing it more towards the show? (Timestamp: 11:12) - Rachel: Oh, no, not at all. I don't think that it's fair that Lala is directing that anger towards Ariana because Ariana has been very clear with her boundaries since the very beginning and…
I guess if she's feeling this way, do you think maybe she should have upheld her boundaries more if she was feeling so resentful towards someone doing the same? Do you think she's feeling like she regrets things that she had said in the past? (Timestamp: 11:35) - Rachel: I think she did uphold her boundaries. I think that she feels like she hasn't been supported the same way that Ariana is being supported. And it's probably not a good feeling, but she maneuvered differently than Ariana has. And Lala doesn't extend the same empathy towards others. So it's harder to support her, I believe.
She does make a point to say, many times, that she feels like things are not being honest on camera. She points out Tom and Ariana’s relationship being one of those things. Katie has a flashback moment where she also calls it out. Do you agree that things are not always honest on camera? (Timestamp: 12:12) - Rachel: Totally. Yeah. I think the point that Lala is making is that Tom and Ariana haven't been honest about their relationship on camera. - Rachel: And I think people are getting caught up in Lala being hypocritical because she wasn't honest about her relationship with Randall. Okay, yes, that might be true. But the point is that Tom and Ariana haven't been good for quite some time. - Rachel: And their relationship that was portrayed on camera for fans to see was not an accurate representation of their relationship. I see the frustration because I agree with that too.
Even on your part, how does it affect you as someone on the show when people aren't fully honest on camera? How does that affect the rest of the cast? (Timestamp: 13:21) - Rachel: Yeah, it affects everyone when people aren't fully honest on the show. I mean, I wasn't fully honest the season 10 reunion. I was still covering up for Tom Schwartz. - Rachel: I was still covering up for Tom Sandoval. I was still going along with that narrative, and it would have been much better to just be open and honest about it. But of course, Tom was like, no, that wouldn't be good for business. - Rachel: It wouldn't be good for Schwartz and Sandys if people knew that the Schwartz kiss wasn't authentic and we need that to seem real. So it does affect everyone when you're not being honest, because it portrays a certain picture that isn't reality, and the whole point of reality TV supposedly is to be real, following these real people's lives. - Rachel: So honesty would be like the most important value characteristic you would think that everyone on this show should have. But it seems like nobody does.
Well, speaking of honesty, Ariana kind of called out Tom and his motives behind wanting to apologize on camera. He finally does get that moment during the reunion to apologize to Ariana. He has some words when he does, he calls the affair something he regrets every day. He says that he wears it like a badge of shame. On your end, how did that feel watching that? (Timestamp: 14:46) - Rachel: It's hard to tell if Tom is being honest or not. Even in the Secrets Revealed episode, when he was asked how many girls he had sex with since me, and he had to pause and think about if he was going to be honest or not, he's just been caught in so many lies that it's hard to tell if he's being truthful. - Rachel: But hearing Tom say that he regrets getting involved with me every single day, I regret it too, so it is a little bit painful, but it's also like maybe something is registering for him. - Rachel: I don't know. But then again, his actions speak a lot louder than his words. He knows what words to say, and then it seems that he fails to follow through with meaningful action. And that's where true amends come into play.
There was just, I feel like, a lot of pain in the room all around. You kind of acknowledged that at the beginning of this episode. What do you think that this pain, and even Lala saying that she was okay seeing some of those friendships end, what do you think that means for the future of this group? (Timestamp: 16:07) - Rachel: I don't see much of the future for this group. It looks pretty shattered. It looks like these friendships are not healthy friendships. - Rachel: The dynamic between Lala and Scheana is not a healthy dynamic. It seems to be like a power imbalance. It seems like Scheana is trying to appease Lala to make sure she's secure, and she's getting certain needs met in that friendship because Ariana hasn't been around for Scheana the way that she's used to. - Rachel: Yeah, you could tell that Scheana’s struggling with coping with that. It seems like Lala's really on a wavelength of not effing with anybody on the cast right now. It seems like her friendship with Katie isn't strong because Katie's gotten really close with Ariana. - Rachel: It seems like even her friendship with Scheana is a little rocky. I think she sees Scheana as someone that's not...How do I want to say this? - Rachel: And I hate saying this word, because I don't want to like categorize somebody as something, especially because I've been called this before too. But I think seeing how Lala reacted to everything and how Scheana was trying to be the fixer and appease Lala, and it just didn't seem like enough for Lala. I think Lala sees Scheana as someone who is weak, perceived weakness. - Rachel: I'm not saying that Scheana is weak. And I think that there's a lot of alliances and manipulation happening, and none of that is healthy for our friendship dynamic. I can see why the show is taking a hiatus, because it just seems so fractured
Well, it definitely seems like at the very end of the episode, Scheana was very sure to get that last word in. I felt like she was looking directly at Lala and almost begging for her to hear her out that she was on her side. And it really did seem like the very end, Scheana had to choose. Is she Team Ariana or Team Lala? Do you think she made the right choice? Do you think she needed to make a choice, or do you think that she's putting this pressure on herself? (Timestamp: 18:21) - Rachel: Ooh, that's a good question. I think she feels a lot of pressure from the outside perspective, and she doesn't want to, obviously, like burn bridges with Ariana or anything. And I think Ariana has been very gracious towards Scheana. Do I think that she needed to choose sides? I don't think so. I don't know. - Rachel: I can see Lala's frustration probably because I'm sure Sheena and Lala have had conversations about the whole situation. And without Ariana there, I'm sure Sheena's singing a much different tune than what we're hearing at the reunion, and that's sparking some frustration in Lala. And I'm sure that was a similar feeling when she called out Katie about it too. - Rachel: So yeah, I think that Lala feels pretty isolated, I want to say, in her feelings. And now that it's aired, and I did check Reddit for the first time in a very, very long time, it seems like the majority of people are hating on Lala right now. I'm human. - Rachel: I do hold some resentment towards Lala for the way that she's treated me over the years. I do empathize with her a little bit because all the hate online is just a little bit ridiculous. And I think also people are afraid to speak a differing opinion than the team Ariana side because people are just ruthless online and they don't want to hear a differing opinion. - Rachel: And if you do, then you get shunned out, too. It's very, my therapist calls it tribal shaming, where if you're not following the rules of the tribe, spoken or unspoken, then you're cast out and you're shunned.
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I mean, it does feel like the fans have had more of an impact on this season than ever. Would you agree with that? (Timestamp: 23:24) - Rachel: Yeah, especially because as they were filming this show, the fans were boots on the ground. We're going to production, we're going to filming, and we're going to take photos and document what we saw and all that stuff. Like it was very interactive in a way. - Rachel: I think with after show this year, it was a little bit different because some things have changed since the ending of filming last summer. One of the things was me starting my own podcast and speaking freely about my experience and my opinion and the after show gave the cast an opportunity to rebut what I was saying and it provided more of a context. - Rachel: And I think with more time passing from the end of filming last summer to, you know, early January, February of this year, when they filmed the after shows, cast dynamics shifted because as we all know, now watching the finale, Lala and Ariana did not end on a good note whatsoever. - Rachel: And so, you know, she had some choice of words to say during the after shows. And it seemed like she really got Sheena to support her with that.
Speaking about the fracturing of this cast, something about her did recently open. Not many cast members were in attendance to this opening. What's your take on that? (Timestamp: 24:56) - Rachel: Interesting. Do you know who went? - iHeart Lady: I know Schwartz went - Rachel: It seems a little telling that maybe Sheena and Lala aren't on the best terms with Ariana right now, because they went to like the Broadway opening that Ariana did for Chicago. And they also went to Dancing with the Stars. But this is all before they knew that she didn't watch the show. And so that was all before the reunion and everything. So yeah, it seems like maybe they're not on the best of terms right now.
What are your thoughts on production holding the last five minutes until the reunion to show to everyone? (Timestamp: 25:47) - Rachel: I wonder if they got word that Ariana wasn't watching the season. And they did that as a way to ensure that they would get a reaction from her, kind of like forcing her hand a little bit, forcing her into a situation that she did not want to be in. It was very strategic in that way. And it was something new. Like, we've never done that before. It was creative, for sure, on production's part.
Do you think it was fair to Ariana? (Timestamp: 26:27) - Rachel: There's a commitment, and part of that is watching the show and having an opinion on what's happening besides your own story that you're sharing. So in a way, it's like ensuring that Ariana did have an opinion on it. So very eye opening, to say the least.
I want your take on Tom's final words. He says, I love it. It's good for me. A lot of people in the room were very shocked by that. Tom even has a reaction to it, where he shakes his head no. They didn't even really press him on what he meant by that either. What's your take on all of that? (Timestamp: 26:49) - Rachel: I wish they pressed him on what he meant by that a little bit more. And Ariana was pretty much the only person that called him out on it too. She caught it. - Rachel: She was like, that exactly proves my point, that you are doing things for the audience, for the production value, and for his own story purposes. I guess in Tom's eyes, having Ariana refuse to film and walk off was good for him because he felt like he completed his job and fulfilled his duty with what production was asking from him. And Ariana was not. - Rachel: And I think selfishly, he probably thought that it would give him a better chance of having more of a redemption story. - Rachel: Because, ultimately, production is the one picking and choosing what they're going to share on the show and edit and put certain music behind certain scenes to make it seem even more of a certain way. Tom knows how to play into that. But I would have loved to hear what his explanation for that comment would be.
Why do you think they didn't press him? (Timestamp: 28:34) - Rachel: I think that they're protecting him, like they always have been.
We did see something interesting at the very end with Lisa stepping up and taking Ariana's side, which is kind of a different tune. You've talked about this before, where she seems to protect the guys a lot of the time, but then she changes her tune at the very end of the episode and takes Ariana's side. What are your thoughts on that? (Timestamp: 28:39) - Rachel: I think Lisa is very strategic with what she puts out there as well. And she knows what people are saying about her, with her always supporting the guys. So that could have been a motivation behind her changing her tune and supporting Ariana in that way. Yeah, I don't know. It's hard because I think also Lisa is very aware of who the fan favorites are. It's her show. - Rachel: She's an executive producer on this show. So she's not a dummy when it's coming to that. I think it helps her if she is supporting Ariana because she'll praise Ariana for walking away and end up holding her boundaries. - Rachel: But then when it comes to me, I don't even remember what she said about me. But when it comes to me walking away and setting a boundary for myself, I've been told that I'm a coward and I'm running away from my problems. - Rachel: So that part for me gets a little frustrating because it's like, and also the fans praising Ariana for upholding her boundaries and walking away and supporting her and telling her like, you know, she's outgrown this show. - Rachel: She should move on and do something even better with her life. And she's finding out now that these aren't her true friends and like good for her for upholding her boundaries and walking away from this situation. And I've done the same thing and it has been met with scrutiny.
Lala compares her situation with Randall to Ariana a lot throughout this reunion. Do you think the two are similar at all? (Timestamp: 30:37) - Rachel: I don't think that the relationship that Lala had with Randall is comparable to the situation that Tom and Ariana were in. It's hard to get on Lala's side with some of the things that she's saying, because the way that she spoke about her relationship with Randall is like bragging about doing BJs for PJs and getting gifted a Range Rover very early in their relationship and not being honest about who she was seeing and the situation that was happening basically. And it just seemed like she was in it for the money and like to secure her success and fame. - Rachel: So it's hard to get behind that, especially when she's been so outright about it. Unfortunately, Randall wasn't the stand up guy that she was selling him to be. We weren't buying it. - Rachel: In Ariana's case, viewers got to see that relationship develop over the years, whereas with Lala's, he wasn't around, like it was secret for a while. And, you know, it's harder to develop feelings towards a person or a relationship when you're not seeing it play out on camera. I think Lala has a lot of anger, maybe even towards herself, for the situation that she allowed herself to be in. And I think she might be taking that out on Ariana.
How hard is it to be really honest when you're in this position? And do you think certain cast members have an easier time doing this? (Timestamp: 32:22) - Rachel: So this is like where your own values come in. Like, are you an honest person or are you not? Because there are people in this cast that are not, and we know who they are, and they have no problem lying, and it doesn't bother them when they lie. - Rachel: And for me, I'm working towards living a more authentic, honest life. And part of that is being honest with my emotions, thoughts, and feelings, and expressing that, and doing that in a way that is still respectful, because I'm not trying to hurt people in the process. And I am trying to express myself honestly and be true to myself. - Rachel: So I think it just depends on who you're asking. I mean, it's definitely not easy. It's definitely hard because you're on this platform, this public arena where you're opening yourself up to scrutiny. - Rachel: And if other people have differing opinions than you do, or if your opinion is the minority, you're basically going to be harassed and scrutinized. And so sometimes for people, it's easier to not be fully honest with their thoughts and feelings in order to save face or in order to go with more popular opinion because it's perceived to be safer that way. But I don't know. - Rachel: At this point, it's like your words aren't going to hurt me. You can say whatever you want to say about me online, and I've survived this far. So whatever else you say about me is not going to affect me any more than it already has. - Rachel: I've developed thick skin through this process, and I've come to the point where I value my friendships that are real in the sense of I interact with these people in real life. I care more about people's perception of me when they actually meet me and interact with me and the vibes I give off that way. So you get to a certain point where it's almost your duty to show up for yourself and be honest with how you feel and how you think about a certain thing in that moment. - Rachel: And your opinions can change with time too and with more information. It's not like I'm going to say this one thing and I'm always going to feel this way. It's always changing, it's always developing, we're always getting more information, and we're always experiencing new things that change our perspective on life. - Rachel: So it's just your duty to represent yourself in the most authentic way so that your people will find you.
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Well, I think there was one kind of shining moment, I'll say, even though it was a really emotional moment. But the moment between, and this is a little bit of a pivot, but the moment between Schwartz and Katie, I found really interesting, where Andy was asking about their relationship. It seemed like this season, they had a little bit more of a playful dynamic. But Schwartz gets really emotional, saying that he doesn't regret how their relationship ended. But you can kind of see in his eyes that he tears well up. He gets really emotional. What did you make of that moment? (Timestamp: 38:08) - Rachel: We don't think we've really seen a moment like that between Tom, Schwartz, and Katie. It really seems like they've come to terms with how the relationship ended, and that it was for the best. But it seemed like there was a lot of fond memories and just appreciation for one another, that I don't think I've really seen that dynamic between them before. - iHeart Lady: To me, it seemed like in a season where there was a lot of hurt, that seemed like the one moment of maybe seeing two people that are going through the process of healing. - Rachel: Viewing that, it did seem like they were both coming from a place of healing, because they weren't throwing insults at each other or trying to bring each other down. It was very respecting one another and appreciating the moments that they did have together while it lasted. And that's refreshing to see on this show.
Lala said something at the very end where she said it was really hard for her to show up to season nine reunion, I believe it was. You know, she didn't want to talk about certain things, but she showed up. Ariana said the same thing where she could say the same about the season 10 reunion. She didn't want to be there. You could probably say the same thing about the season 10 reunion. You didn't want to be there as well. Is it fair to say everyone's been in a position where they didn't want to be somewhere, but they did anyway? (Timestamp: 39:44) - Rachel: 100%. Yeah, totally. And that's like the part of committing to this show. It's a commitment. And even though you don't quite know what you're signing up for, you know that it's not going to be necessarily easy. And there's a challenge in that. - Rachel: And I think, just speaking for myself, there was an opportunity for growth for me in that. Yeah, I think we've all been in a situation where we didn't want to show up for something and felt, I don't think obligated is the right word, but we made a commitment to being there, and we followed through with our commitment. And it's hard.
You started this episode off by acknowledging that there was a lot of healing that this cast needs to do. As someone who has taken a step back from filming, you've had this time to kind of come back to your own reality. What can this cast expect when you have that moment to kind of breathe and have that separation and you rejoin reality for a minute? (Timestamp: 41:07) - Rachel: Oh, okay. That is a loaded question. Because I think that there's a little bit of fear with not being the current topic of conversation. - Rachel: I think addiction is the wrong word, but there's a little bit of the dopamine hits that you get when you're being talked about on a reality TV show and the fear of that going away permanently could be a scary thing. But taking time off and re-centering with yourself, I think is like the best thing for this cast right now, because we don't want to be forced into situations that we don't want to be in. That's not living an authentic life. - Rachel: I mean, I've been worrying about scenes and storylines, and I haven't even been a part of this show, but now it feels good not to worry about that. And I do have to say, just like reading all the comments on Reddit right now, it's like hardly anybody is talking about me, which is a great feeling. It's just so much more freeing when you're not living your life for somebody else's entertainment anymore. - Rachel: It just feels like you get your life back a little bit. It's so complex, and I think it's hard to understand if you haven't been through being on a TV show for millions of people to comment on and judge your life. I don't think humans are meant for that, and there's no way that that's healthy. - Rachel: Yeah, I said that I think the cast, we have a lot of healing to do. We, as in, I still do too, and part of that is coming back to reality. And I really don't think that we've had a minute this whole season. I think it's going to be good for everyone.
Has this year though felt different to you? I feel like you're like half in, half out (Timestamp: 43:42) - Rachel: Oh, yeah, it's felt so different. But I think like a large part of that has to do with going to the meadows and really reconnecting with myself and learning about my issues and how it was showing up for me and really coming to terms with like, what is this piece of external validation and how is that motivating me? And is it even real? - Rachel: And just like really re centering back into myself and gaining a lot more perspective with that. Without the meadows, I would not be where I am right now. There's no freaking way. So it is. I'm living a new life. I really am. - Rachel: And I feel like I haven't really been able to truly have the opportunity to live my new life to the fullest because this show has been holding me back. And I know that that's partially my fault too because I'm indulging and speaking about it, but I'm really looking forward to the days when I can truly move forward and evolve into something even more magnificent.
Outro (Timestamp: 45:02) - Rachel: Thank you so much for listening to Rachel Goes Rogue. Follow us on Instagram and TikTok for exclusive video content at Rachel Goes Rogue Podcast.
***end

Kings’landing, 10th moon, 25 AC
Serala had ventured off into the woods, as she did before. But this time it was different, with Gaelithox by her side. She had asked her male relatives to prepare a fire for her so she could pray in silence. The priestess had worn a simple red cloak that night, along with a red dress underneath.
As the red priestess had approached the nightfire she perched her raven on a rock not too far away. “Stay close now Gaelithox, not even you blend in the darkness.” She smiled, but even that faded away quickly.
The burning pile of wood reflected like that of a shooting star in her eyes, it… spoke to her. Serala bowed her head forward and closed her eyes.
“From the light we came, and from the light we return. Your path has been lit without it ever being extinguished. R’hllorr, the fire in our lungs, the heat on our skin, the light in our heart. The true sun that determines what comes next, for we depend on you and you alone.” Not soon after she collapsed on the ground with her hands blocking her fall, leaning on her shoulders to maintain balance.
She could hear her raven call for her, but she didn’t respond.
“if…” Serala echoed. “If this duty of mine is chosen by you alone, let it not be dull if it’s mean for me, let that fire consume me if it must, but not have me carry this burden all alone.” She screamed. Tears were sobbing from her eyes as she looked directly into the fire. “For I have dedicated my life to you!!”
She felt weak, maybe she was weak.. Serala had been depending on her little sister for any kind of intel, on her mentor for guidance and R’hllor for refuge. Power only resided in her purpose, one that was far greater than she would ever know.
Serala shook her head as if it could detach itself from her body, truly overwhelmed… The shrieking noise could not even be blocked by that of the sound of a Raven.

Op- https://www.reddit.com/WritingPrompts/s/sWJUxDJ0SO
John’s left hand was squeezed white against the wheel of his old pick-up; he held his son, Alex, close with his other.
As they rattled down the uneven country roads, rain pelted their windshield with a fury. John continually glanced into the rearview. Thunder clapped at their back like the hands of god, and through the white flashes of lightning, he could make out a large barrel of rotating black smoke. Each time he looked, it seemed to have grown larger, and one singular thought repeated in his mind.
Make it to the cellar, he thought. Make it to the cellar.
He gripped his son tighter and pressed the accelerator with a heavy foot. The truck roared beneath them.
“Come on…” He muttered. He was driving nearly eighty.
“Dad?” Alex’s voice was small, and John could feel him trembling under his arm.
John rubbed his shoulder. “It’s okay, bud. We’re nearly there; it ain’t gonna get us.” Truthfully, though, he wasn’t sure if he believed the words himself.
“But Dad, I’m scared.”
Just then, a strong gust of wind punched the side of the truck, nearly sending it swerving into the ditch. With a squealing effort, John steadied it and accelerated faster. The boy’s head was now buried into his armpit. Limbs began falling from trees; scattered debris carpeted the roads.
John looked down at his son; he was still wearing his blue Little League uniform. All of this for a damn baseball game, he thought, then looked back at the road. He stomped the brakes. Alex screamed as they lurched forward and John stuck an arm out to keep him from flying into the windshield. The truck skidded sideways to a halt on the wet road. A giant oak tree, maybe eight feet in diameter, lay flat across their path.
“Fuck.” John muttered as he smacked the steering wheel with his palm. There wasn’t any getting around that.
He darted his eyes around wildly, looking for some sort of a solution—anything—but all he found was fear. The swirling column of dark wind was getting closer now, and his options were growing increasingly limited.
Then he noticed something. Just past the downed tree a green mile marker sign glowed back at him—the mile marker sign that’s about a half mile away from their house.
They were closer than they thought.
He grabbed Alex by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “We’re gonna make a run for it.
“What?” Alex asked, his eyes wide with terror.
“I know; I don’t want to either, but it’s our only shot. I—“
“No!” Alex shouted. He tried to say more, but the words just sputtered out in incoherent globs.
“Hey,” John said patiently, but Alex was in hysterics. John looked over his shoulder. Power lines were beginning to fall, and the transformers were popping into big blue sparks as they hit the ground. He looked back at Alex.
“HEY!” He shouted.
Alex stopped immediately and looked at him in surprise. He never yelled.
“Do you trust me?” He asked.
Alex moved his mouth, but no breath came to push the words out.
“Do you trust me?” John asked again, shaking the boy a little.
This time, Alex nodded yes.
“Okay, now listen. I’m going to pick you up, and we’re gonna run. I want you to close your eyes, and I don’t want you to open them until I tell you it’s okay. Do you understand?”
The boy nodded again, and a tear fell down his cheek as he closed his eyes.
John scooped him up and creaked the metal door open into the rain. Lightning continued to snap overhead; there was a metallic smell in the air, like burning wires, and the humidity was thick enough to choke a man.
He held the boy's head against his shoulder and started in a sort of half run to the driveway. Alex felt heavier than he used to, and it made him wonder just how long ago it was since he’d held him that way.
Cold rain whipped at their back, sticking their clothes to their skin like slick velcro. John spat the water from his mouth as he trudged forward blindly in the dark. His muscles started to burn. His feet snagged on branches, trash, and other debris that had blown in, threatening to trip him, and sudden dips or rises staggered him as his foot met only air where he expected solid earth.
John could feel the boy sobbing once more. “We’re almost there; we’re gonna make it.” He panted. This time, he really believed what he said. The driveway came into view as they rounded the last corner.
Limbs the size of cedar trees blew past them like confetti. One cracked John in the back of the head, sending him and Alex tumbling onto the ground. The pain was brilliant. For a moment, he saw white, but his vision quickly cleared, and he looked up at Alex.
Alex sat with his knees tucked to his chest, holding a scrape. His skin and clothes were covered in twigs, mud, and pine needles, and his face was twisted with fright—contorted like one of those dramatic masquerade masks as he rocked back and forth. His eyes were open now.
The twister roared behind them like a gasoline truck chugging up a hill. John scrambled to his feet. He scooped Alex into his arms, and started toward the house once again. His head was pounding, his muscles were on fire, blood was thudding against his ears, and that same thought from earlier continued to swim laps around his mind.
Make it to the cellar.
He pressed on, planting one solid foot into the ground at a time and marching forward like a well oiled machine.
Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he walked down the driveway; wind whipped their wet clothes like flags.
John shed Alex from his arms and looked down at the wooden cellar door. He tried pulling it open, but the wind shoved it back down. It was picking up even more now. Shingles began to be sucked from the roof, and John knew that if he didn’t get this door open, he and Alex would follow closely behind.
He pulled as hard as he could, grunting with the effort. Alex quickly joined him in the struggle, helping as much as a nine-year-old possibly could. It began to come up a little, but the wind was powerful.
John screamed and dug in harder. He had to get it open. He felt his muscles tearing beneath his skin, his joints cracking; he used every single ounce of his strength, and finally the door began to give. He pried it just far enough for them to fit.
“GET IN,” He shouted. The boy jumped inside, and John followed shortly after. The door slammed behind him with a smack that resembled a gunshot.
The cellar was dark. Screws and bolts and toolboxes filled with wrenches and other metal things shook and rumbled off of the shelves. A few baseball bats fell and clinked across the concrete floor. Up top, it sounded like a giant lawnmower was making quick work of the farmhouse, eating it up like it was little more than a stray blade of grass.
John’s head still throbbed, and he could feel warm blood trickling down the back of his neck. He was tired, breathing raggedly, and all of a sudden he had a very strong urge to go to sleep.
They held each other in darkness, sitting there for what seemed like an eternity, but just as quickly as it began, it was over. The roar lessened, quieted, then disappeared as it got further away.
The two looked at each other, both covered in dirt and debris, and John knew that everything was gone. He knew that the house was gone; he knew the farm was gone, and he knew that just about everything else he had ever worked for was torn to shreds in a matter of minutes.
But he looked at Alex, and when he saw the twinkle of life in his son’s eye, he breathed a sigh of relief. That was all that mattered. They sat for an hour in silence, not daring to step out until they were sure it was safe.
Eventually, rays of light began to beam through the cracks in the cellar door. John was the first to move. He walked to the door, flung it outward and shielded his squinted eyes to look outside.
The sky was blue. He hoisted himself upward and poked his head out.
His barn was still there. Bessie, his cow, was standing beside it, chewing on a mouthful of grass; all of the chickens strutted around the side of the barn, nearing the garden, which also looked untouched; the squash was even blooming. Behind him, their house stood tall, perfectly intact all the way up to the shingles.
The oddest thing of all was his farm pickup parked in the driveway—no worse shape than when they left for the ballgame.
John scratched his head.
“Dad?” Alex shouted.
“You can come up.” He said, puzzled.
Alex crawled out of the cellar in the same fashion as his father, and confusion dawned on his face as well. “It missed us?”
John shook his head. “No way it coulda missed us. I don’t really know what to make of it.”
He really didn’t. They saw the twister coming directly at them; they heard the house ripped to shreds right above their heads; the farm truck didn’t make it back to the house at all, for Christ's sake. It just didn’t make any damn sense.
A feminine voice called out to them—a voice John recognized at the first syllable. “John? Alex?”
“Vick..” He mouthed and whipped his head around. A tall woman with blonde hair was walking around the side of the porch, stepping as gracefully as a doe. Her eyes were as green as the pines behind her, and she gave a smile that held more reassurance than a million words could express.
She spread her arms wide. “My boys.” She said. John stood motionless, his mouth slightly agape. Alex pushed past him as he ran, “Mommy!” He shouted.
The woman wrapped the boy in a hug and lifted him from his feet. As she held his head against her shoulder, she pointed her eyes in John’s direction and held out her other hand.
He walked toward her, cautiously.
“John.” She said. “It’s me, I promise.”
John looked at her for a moment longer. He wanted to run to her, to wrap her up and lift her the same way she did Alex. For the past two years, there had been nothing in this world that he’d wanted more.
But his wife was dead. He watched as the cancer took her in 2014; he held her in his arms as she died in the hospital bed, yet there she stood—healthy and as real as the sun beating down on his neck. He reached a hand to the back of his head, feeling for the place where the branch whacked him.
But there was nothing—not even a tender spot.
He looked back up at his wife. “Are we…”
“Hush, dont think about it like that, John.” She smiled, “We’re together now.”
John staggered a little, staring down at his hands; his once farm hardened callouses were gone now, smoothed over with soft, healthy skin.
“I—“ He began.
“Get over here and hug me.”
He looked up; his wife looked back at him lovingly with her direct, green eyes, and for the first time in so long, he felt happy. A feeling he’d grown a stranger to. A grin tightened across his face, and he walked toward Vick as their old golden retriever ran panting toward them from across the yard, just like she used to, only now; she had all four of her legs.

I am doing a liver cleanse and I have this red sore sport right beneath my eye. Has any one had this happen to them? Is this a detox symptom?

Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory

Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.

All Buyouts are listed in cash value.

KNIVES

★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77

★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74

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★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87

★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41

★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39

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★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27

★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28

★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15

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★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93

★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69

★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18

★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83

★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64

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★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04

★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41

★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39

★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25

★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80

★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96

★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79

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★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11

★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78

★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88

★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79

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★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05

★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24

★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53

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★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12

★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42

★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37

★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66

★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18

★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13

★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26

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★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83

★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50

★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11

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★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02

★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44

★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54

★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81

★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81

★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82

★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46

★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08

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★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48

★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12

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★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26

★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79

★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17

★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55

★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77

★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49

★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22

★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51

★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94

★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99

★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80

★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96

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★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92

★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03

★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22

★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40

★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42

★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20

★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46

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★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99

★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93

★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43

★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06

★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16

★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95

GLOVES

★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67

★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33

★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88

★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66

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★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07

★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14

★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57

★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21

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★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00

★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28

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★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29

★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32

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★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01

★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66

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★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88

★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55

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★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94

★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55

WEAPONS

AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95

AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95

M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51

StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43

AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38

StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64

P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03

AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33

Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00

M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48

AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97

StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96

StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85

Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42

AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53

Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory

Knives - Bowie Knife, Butterfly Knife, Falchion Knife, Flip Knife, Gut Knife, Huntsman Knife, M9 Bayonet, Bayonet, Karambit, Shadow Daggers, Stiletto Knife, Ursus Knife, Navaja Knife, Talon Knife, Classic Knife, Paracord Knife, Survival Knife, Nomad Knife, Skeleton Knife, Patterns - Gamma Doppler, Doppler (Phase 1, Phase 2, Phase 3, Phase 4, Black Pearl, Sapphire, Ruby, Emerald), Crimson Web, Lore, Fade, Ultraviolet, Night, Marble Fade (Fire & Ice, Fake FI), Case Hardened (Blue Gem), Autotronic, Slaughter, Black Laminate, Tiger Tooth, Boreal Forest, Scorched, Blue Steel, Vanilla, Damascus Steel, Forest DDPAT, Urban Masked, Freehand, Stained, Bright Water, Safari Mesh, Rust Coat, Gloves - Bloodhound Gloves (Charred, Snakebite, Guerrilla, Bronzed), Driver Gloves (Snow Leopard, King Snake, Crimson Weave, Imperial Plaid, Black Tie, Lunar Weave, Diamondback, Rezan the Red, Overtake, Queen Jaguar, Convoy, Racing Green), Hand Wraps (Cobalt Skulls, CAUTION!, Overprint, Slaughter, Leather, Giraffe, Badlands, Spruce DDPAT, Arboreal, Constrictor, Desert Shamagh, Duct Tape), Moto Gloves (Spearmint, POW!, Cool Mint, Smoke Out, Finish Line, Polygon, Blood Pressure, Turtle, Boom!, Eclipse, 3rd Commando Company, Transport), Specialist Gloves (Crimson Kimono, Tiger Strike, Emerald Web, Field Agent, Marble Fade, Fade, Foundation, Lt. Commander, Crimson Web, Mogul, Forest DDPAT, Buckshot), Sport Gloves (Pandora's Box, Superconductor, Hedge Maze, Vice, Amphibious, Slingshot, Omega, Arid, Big Game, Nocts, Scarlet Shamagh, Bronze Morph), Hydra Gloves (Case Hardened, Emerald, Rattler, Mangrove), Broken Fang Gloves (Jade, Yellow-banded, Unhinged, Needle Point), Pistols - P2000 (Wicked Sick, Ocean Foam, Fire Element, Amber Fade, Corticera, Chainmail, Imperial Dragon, Obsidian, Scorpion, Handgun, Acid Etched), USP-S (Printstream, Kill Confirmed, Whiteout, Road Rash, Owergrowth, The Traitor, Neo-Noir, Dark Water, Orion, Blueprint, Stainless, Caiman, Serum, Monster Mashup, Royal Blue, Ancient Visions, Cortex, Orange Anolis, Ticket To Hell, Black Lotus, Cyrex, Check Engine, Guardian, Purple DDPAT, Torque, Blood Tiger, Flashback, Business Class, Pathfinder, Para Green), Lead Conduit, Glock-18 (Ramese's Reach, Umbral Rabbit, Fade, Candy Apple, Bullet Queen, Synth Leaf, Neo-Noir, Nuclear Garden, Dragon Tatto, Reactor, Pink DDPAT, Twilight Galaxy, Sand Dune, Groundwater, Blue Fissure, Snack Attack, Water Elemental, Brass, Wasteland Rebel, Vogue, Franklin, Royal Legion, Gamma Doppler, Weasel, Steel Disruption, Ironwork, Grinder, High Beam, Moonrise, Oxide Blaze, Bunsen Burner, Clear Polymer, Bunsen Burner, Night), P250 (Apep's Curse, Re.built, Nuclear Threat, Modern Hunter, Splash, Whiteout, Vino Primo, Mehndi, Asiimov, Visions, Undertow, Cartel, See Ya Later, Gunsmoke, Splash, Digital Architect, Muertos, Red Rock, Bengal Tiger, Crimson Kimono, Wingshot, Metallic DDPAT, Hive, Dark Filigree, Mint Kimono), Five-Seven (Neon Kimono, Berries And Cherries, Fall Hazard, Crimson Blossom, Hyper Beast, Nitro, Fairy Tale, Case Hardened, Copper Galaxy, Angry Mob, Monkey Business, Fowl Play, Anodized Gunmetal, Hot Shot, Retrobution, Boost Protocol), CZ75-Auto (Chalice, Crimson Web, Emerald Quartz, The Fuschia is Now, Nitro, Xiangliu, Yellow Jacket, Victoria, Poison Dart, Syndicate, Eco, Hexane, Pole, Tigris), Tec-9 (Mummy's Rot, Rebel, Terrace, Nuclear Threat, Hades, Rust Leaf, Decimator, Blast From, Orange Murano, Toxic, Fuel Injector, Remote Control, Bamboo Forest, Isaac, Avalanche, Brother, Re-Entry, Blue Titanium, Bamboozle), R8 Revolver (Banana Cannon, Fade, Blaze, Crimson Web, Liama Cannon, Crazy 8, Reboot, Canal Spray, Night, Amber Fade), Desert Eagle (Blaze, Hand Cannon, Fennec Fox, Sunset Storm, Emerald Jörmungandr, Pilot, Hypnotic, Golden Koi, Printstream, Cobalt Disruption, Code Red, Ocean Drive, Midnight Storm, Kumicho Dragon, Crimson Web, Heirloom, Night Heist, Mecha Industries, Night, Conspiracy, Trigger Discipline, Naga, Directive, Light Rail), Dual Berettas (Flora Carnivora, Duelist, Cobra Strike, Black Limba, Emerald, Hemoglobin, Twin Turbo, Marina, Melondrama, Pyre, Retribution, Briar, Dezastre, Royal Consorts, Urban Shock, Dualing Dragons, Panther, Balance), Rifles - Galil (Aqua Terrace, Winter Forest, Chatterbox, Sugar Rush, Pheonix Blacklight, CAUTION!, Orange DDPAT, Cerberus, Dusk Ruins, Eco, Chromatic Aberration, Stone Cold, Tuxedo, Sandstorm, Shattered, Urban Rubble, Rocket Pop, Kami, Crimson Tsunami, Connexion), SCAR-20 (Fragments, Brass, Cyrex, Palm, Splash Jam, Cardiac, Emerald, Crimson Web, Magna Carta, Stone Mosaico, Bloodsport, Enforcer), AWP (Black Nile, Duality, Gungnir, Dragon Lore, Prince, Medusa, Desert Hydra, Fade, Lightning Strike, Oni Taiji, Silk Tiger, Graphite, Chromatic Aberration, Asiimov, Snake Camo, Boom, Containment Breach, Wildfire, Redline, Electric Hive, Hyper Beast, Neo-Noir, Man-o'-war, Pink DDPAT, Corticera, Sun in Leo, Elite Build, Fever Dream, Atheris, Mortis, PAW, Exoskeleton, Worm God, POP AWP, Phobos, Acheron, Pit Viper, Capillary, Safari Mesh), AK-47 (Steel Delta, Head Shot, Wild Lotus, Gold Arabesque, X-Ray, Fire Serpent, Hydroponic, Panthera Onca, Case Hardened, Vulcan, Jet Set, Fuel Injector, Bloodsport, Nightwish, First Class, Neon Rider, Asiimov, Red Laminate, Aquamarine Revenge, The Empress, Wasteland Rebel, Jaguar, Black Laminate, Leet Museo, Neon Revolution, Redline, Frontside Misty, Predator, Legion of Anubis, Point Disarray, Orbit Mk01, Blue Laminate, Green Laminate, Emerald Pinstripe, Cartel, Phantom Disruptor, Jungle Spray, Safety Net, Rat Rod, Baroque Purple, Slate, Elite Build, Uncharted, Safari Mesh), FAMAS (Waters of Nephthys, Sundown, Prime Conspiracy, Afterimage, Commemoration, Dark Water, Spitfire, Pulse, Eye of Athena, Meltdown, Rapid Eye Move, Roll Cage, Styx, Mecha Industrie, Djinn, ZX Spectron, Valence, Neural Net, Night Borre, Hexne), M4A4 (Eye of Horus, Temukau, Howl, Poseidon, Asiimov, Daybreak, Hellfire, Zirka, Red DDPAT, Radiation Hazard, Modern Hunter, The Emperor, The Coalition, Bullet Rain, Cyber Security, X-Ray, Dark Blossom, Buzz Kill, In Living Color, Neo-Noir, Desolate Space, 龍王 (Dragon King), Royal Paladin, The Battlestar, Global Offensive, Tooth Fairy, Desert-Strike, Griffin, Evil Daimyo, Spider Lily, Converter), M4A1-S (Emphorosaur-S, Welcome to the Jungle, Imminent Danger, Knight, Hot Rod, Icarus Fell, Blue Phosphor, Printstream, Master Piece, Dark Water, Golden Coil, Bright Water, Player Two, Atomic Alloy, Guardian, Chantico's Fire, Hyper Beast, Mecha Industries, Cyrex, Control Panel, Moss Quartz, Nightmare, Decimator, Leaded Glass, Basilisk, Blood Tiger, Briefing, Night Terror, Nitro, VariCamo, Flashback), SG 553 (Cyberforce, Hazard Pay, Bulldozer, Integrale, Dragon Tech, Ultraviolet, Colony IV, Hypnotic, Cyrex, Candy Apple, Barricade, Pulse), SSG 08 (Death Strike, Sea Calico, Blood in the Water, Orange Filigree, Dragonfire, Big Iron, Bloodshot, Detour, Turbo Peek, Red Stone), AUG (Akihabara Accept, Flame Jörmungandr, Hot Rod, Midnight Lily, Sand Storm, Carved Jade, Wings, Anodized Navy, Death by Puppy, Torque, Bengal Tiger, Chameleon, Fleet Flock, Random Access, Momentum, Syd Mead, Stymphalian, Arctic Wolf, Aristocrat, Navy Murano), G3SG1 (Chronos, Violet Murano, Flux, Demeter, Orange Kimono, The Executioner, Green Apple, Arctic Polar Camo, Contractor), SMGs - P90 (ScaraB Rush, Neoqueen, Astral Jörmungandr, Run and Hide, Emerald Dragon, Cold Blooded, Death by Kitty, Baroque Red, Vent Rush, Blind Spot, Asiimov, Trigon, Sunset Lily, Death Grip, Leather, Nostalgia, Fallout Warning, Tiger Pit, Schermatic, Virus, Shapewood, Glacier Mesh, Shallow Grave, Chopper, Desert Warfare), MAC-10 (Sakkaku, Hot Snakes, Copper Borre, Red Filigree, Gold Brick, Graven, Case Hardened, Stalker, Amber Fade, Neon Rider, Tatter, Curse, Propaganda, Nuclear Garden, Disco Tech, Toybox, Heat, Indigo), UMP-45 (Wild Child, Fade, Blaze, Day Lily, Minotaur's Labyrinth, Crime Scene, Caramel, Bone Pile, Momentum, Primal Saber), MP7 (Teal Blossom, Fade, Nemesis, Whiteout, Asterion, Bloosport, Abyssal Apparition, Full Stop, Special Delivery, Neon Ply, Asterion, Ocean Foam, Powercore, Scorched, Impire), PP-Bizon (Modern Hunter, Rust Coat, Forest Leaves, Antique, High Roller, Blue Streak, Seabird, Judgement of Anubis, Bamboo Print, Embargo, Chemical Green, Coblat Halftone, Fuel Rod, Photic Zone, Irradiated Alert, Carbon Fiber), MP9 (Featherweight, Wild Lily, Pandora's Box, Stained Glass, Bulldozer, Dark Age, Hot Rod, Hypnotic, Hydra, Rose Iron, Music Box, Setting Sun, Food Chain, Airlock, Mount Fuji, Starlight Protector, Ruby Poison Dart, Deadly Poison), MP5-SD (Liquidation, Oxide Oasis, Phosphor, Nitro, Agent, Autumn Twilly), Shotguns, Machineguns - Sawed-Off (Kiss♥Love, First Class, Orange DDPAT, Rust Coat, The Kraken, Devourer, Mosaico, Wasteland Princess, Bamboo Shadow, Copper, Serenity, Limelight, Apocalypto), XM1014 (Frost Borre, Ancient Lore, Red Leather, Elegant Vines, Banana Leaf, Jungle, Urban Perforated, Grassland, Blaze Orange, Heaven Guard, VariCamo Blue, Entombed, XOXO, Seasons, Tranquility, Bone Machine, Incinegator, Teclu Burner, Black Tie, Zombie Offensive, Watchdog), Nova (Sobek's Bite, Baroque Orange, Hyper Beast, Green Apple, Antique, Modern Hunter, Walnut, Forest Leaves, Graphite, Blaze Orange, Rising Skull, Tempest, Bloomstick, Interlock, Quick Sand, Moon in Libra, Clean Polymer, Red Quartz, Toy Soldier), MAG-7 (Copper Coated, Insomnia, Cinqueda, Counter Terrace, Prism Terrace, Memento, Chainmail, Hazard, Justice, Bulldozer, Silver, Core Breach, Firestarter, Praetorian, Heat, Hard Water, Monster Call, BI83 Spectrum, SWAG-7), M249 (Humidor, Shipping Forecast, Blizzard Marbleized, Downtown, Jungle DDPAT, Nebula Crusader, Impact Drill, Emerald Poison Dart), Negev (Mjölnir, Anodized Navy, Palm, Power Loader, Bratatat, CaliCamo, Phoenix Stencil, Infrastructure, Boroque Sand), Wear - 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[INDEX]
I banked the fire and stared into the golden eyes of Beatale before I crept into my makeshift tent.
I still had my auric vision running and couldn’t help but notice the thin silver cord that ran from me to Horse. Firming up my aura, I reached out with my hand and grabbed it. I could feel the nearly imperceptible vibration between my fingers as I used my mind to probe at the thread. I could feel a bright spark of intellect, a light at the end of a tunnel. Pushing with my mind, I slid down the thread until the spark grew larger and eventually filled my inner vision with a hazy white light. Horsey thoughts nudged at me curiously.
I slid into the haze and immediately lost all sense of direction. If it wasn’t for the silver thread, I’d have no idea how to exit this shifting white fog. Horsey thoughts got stronger as I followed the thread while the haze thinned and cleared to reveal an endless prairie of green grass. I found myself standing before a naked man wearing a horse mask and I stared in shock. It was obviously me wearing a cheap costume horse mask — there was no mistaking my tattoos.
“What did you expect?” Horse neighed at me. “I am you and you are me and we are all together. Goo goo ga joob.”
Horse made a shooing motion with his hands and I accelerated backwards through the white haze and slammed into my own body with a gasp. I stared at the tarp overhead for a long minute, processing this new revelation. Horse was a part of me, a piece of my spirit. Whatever psychic stuff I did with that silver cord lead me into a house of mirrors where I got to look at myself pretending to be a horse. I can’t even deal with that right now.
Rolling into my blankets, I dropped off to sleep.
*Ding*
-=- - Welcome to the Dreamworld - Included in the Psychic Skills pack, the Inner Sanctum is your psychic domain. It is the mental fortress that you must secure and maintain to defend against psychic and spiritual assaults. All of your neurosis and fears are symbolised in this realm and must be defeated or subjugated before you can become master of the domain. Good luck. -=-
I banished the pop-up and looked around. I knew I was asleep, but everything was just as real as when I was awake. I was breathing, I could feel the floor under my feet, and if it weren’t for the pop-up, I would have sworn I had been teleported. The room I was in resembled an oversized luxury prison cell, maybe a thirty foot cube. No windows. Rough stone walls with thick mortar. Large brass wall sconces were set directly into the stone and suffused the room with a warm, golden light provided by glowing rocks. The stone floor had colourful Persian rugs tastefully placed. A high plaster ceiling was painted with a rendition of Michelangelo’s ‘Creation of Adam’, depicting me as both Adam and God.
There was a comfy sofa in front of a large screen television that hung from one wall and an ornate grandfather clock ticked loudly in the corner. It was currently 10:08 PM. Another wall was a floor to ceiling bookshelf, stuffed with books of varying sizes. The third wall was covered with pictures and I could see at a glance that they were images from my life. The fourth wall had a thick riveted steel door on the right side, a full sized mirror on the left, and a computer workstation in the middle.
The picture wall was my first target. A few were quite large, nearly life sized, while others were tiny prints no larger than the palm of my hand. Scenes of my life were displayed in each one. The largest was me riding Horse with a shit-scared expression, shooting at a pack of wolves. Others were smaller, each with different frames. Some ornate gold or silver, others plain wood, a few wrapped in briars or barbed wire. Nanny Ramsey holding me as a young child. My dog Jean with a red ball in his mouth. My parents, screaming at me. I turned my attention to the books. Books are safe. Books don’t judge you.
The sweet, musty scent of a used book store filled my nostrils as I drew close to the honey coloured shelves. Hundreds of volumes filled the wall from floor to ceiling, with a ladder that could be rolled along a rail to access the top. I smiled at the sight. I had always wanted a library like this. I pulled a book at random and read the title, “Confused Fantasies about Joseph Harris, part XXIV of the Middle School Years”.
I slid the book back onto the shelf. Let’s see what’s on TV.
The remote was a slim, futuristic looking affair with a minimum of buttons. I pointed it at the television and moments later the huge screen came to life and presented me with a simple menu for movies, divided into six categories: Happy, Surprised, Afraid, Disgusted, Angry, and Sad. I scrolled through the offerings for a minute, reading the titles and reviews about the movies of my life. It really bothered me that there were so few selections in the Happy section.
The number of Sad movies increased by one.
I walked over to the mirror and noticed there was a small sticky note pasted to it. “Astral Realm. Experienced users only.” I shoved the note in my pocket and stared at my image. Sturdy black boots, black denim jeans and shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons, deep brown gun belt slung at my hip, red bandanna and black felt hat. All I needed was a pencil moustache and I would look like the stereotypical villain in any spaghetti western. At that very moment I decided to grow out a goatee. I’d rather be mistaken for a bad guy than a victim.
So how does this astral realm thing work?
The mirror appeared to be nothing more than a mirror. It was cold, smooth glass surrounded by a wrought iron frame, and reflected my image. I didn’t necessarily want to go walking into danger, but I wanted to know how it worked. I pushed and prodded the glass in frustration until I noticed my image grinning at me. I jumped back in surprise and it doubled over in silent laughter.
“Hilarious, dude. You got me,” I huffed. “So how do I get in?”
My mirror-self tipped his hat and stepped to side.
I reached up to the mirror again and my hand passed through, vanishing as if cut off. Okay, just a quick peek and we’ll explore the rest of the room. I stepped through and the world shifted around me. I was standing back at the campsite. My body was insubstantial as a ghost and the tarp was a wisp of substance running straight through me. Non living things don’t seem to have much presence in this realm. Glancing down, I saw my sleeping body rolled up in the blankets, a thin silver thread running from it to me, and another thread running to Horse.
Looking around, I surveyed the campsite. My astral vision seemed to be on and had an unlimited range. I could see the life all around me, the distant forest was a sea of greenish-gold, grasses and brush nearby glowed with spectral light. Tiny ghost insects scurried while ghost mice nibbled at whatever ghost mice nibble on. Ghost seeds and ghost insects, I suppose. I turned my attention overhead and gaped at the sight of a monstrous serpentine spirit flying through the inky void. I dropped back through the tent and rolled inside my body. That was plenty enough for now.
I rolled through the mirror and landed flat on my back, staring at the fresco on the ceiling. Vinnie-God winked at me and Vinnie-Adam grinned. Climbing to my knees, I brushed non-existent dust from my trousers and watched mirror-me doubled over in soundless laughter.
“Hey, laughing-boy!” I yelled at him. “You’re like the guardian or something, right? You got it covered?”
Mirror-me stood and saluted with a smile, then gave me two thumbs up. A moment later, his face took on a serious expression and he wriggled his right hand in the ‘maybe’ motion. Then he pointed at me, tapped his wrist, and then a finger to his head.
It all depends on how fast I learn stuff, I guess.
Two thumbs up and a winning smile reflected back to me.
A large cork board was mounted to the wall over the computer and a small note was pinned to it. “Note to self: Don’t fuck with the Elvish womens.”
The computer screen featured a screensaver of me as Vitruvian Man doing callisthenics over the words ‘HumanOS’. I tapped the spacebar and was rewarded with the sound of powerful fans kicking to life as the computer emerged from sleep mode and prompted me for a password. Should I assume it’s the same as the password on the computer I pawned in my previous life?
Password: *******esi
I was rewarded with a sweet R&M desktop and a couple of icons. System, NeuralNet, My-Tunes, My-Movies, My-Office.
System was just what I expected, lots of .dna files and other confusing scariness that allowed me to tweak my physical body and mental state. My-Tunes was a collection of every song I’d ever heard and My-Movies was a collection of every movie I’d ever seen. Not that I’m complaining, but it would have been nice to have “My-Games” so I could play RDR. My-Office was a clone of the popular software by a similar name. I have no idea what I’ll ever need a spreadsheet for in this world.
NuralNet opened up a search engine called Me-Seeks, featuring a familiar blue guy.
I typed in “beer” and several thousand results were displayed, anything I’d ever read, heard, or watched about beer, including how to make it. This right here made the price of admission totally worth it, access to an exact copy of everything I’d ever read, and I was a voracious reader. Sadly, most of the stuff I read was futurology — solar panels, electronics, biotech advancements, quantum computing. The material for steam engines, blacksmithing, farming and the like, were slim pickings. That’s okay though, I could still reproduce the Gutenberg press, the cotton gin, simple internal combustion engines, and basic batteries along with some sketchy knowledge of metal alloys, acids, bases, and other things I had read over the years. All that wasted time watching “How Things Work” was finally going to pay off. I copied a few likely money makers to My-Office, saved the file, and exported to my Notes, just in case they didn’t exist on Aerth.
A popup covered the screen.
📱 [New Upgrade Available!] 📱
🎉 Enhance Your Experience with the Latest HumanOS Features! 🎉
🌟 Features Include:

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

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

As requested by my Cousin its time for a Trickster God of (most likely) Fire.

Explaining How He’s A Fire God, Skip If You Dont Care

Loki’s parents are a giant named Farbauti which means “Dangerous Striker” which could be referring to Lightning, his mother Laufey has a name that means “leafy”, what happens when lightning strikes a tree covered with leaves? Fire
Loki is skilled in Shapeshifting which could refer to a Fire having no shape
Loki once cut of the hair of Sif the Goddess of Grain only for her husband Thor the Storm God have some dwarves who Live Under Ground make her new hair, this Could be referring to a Fire burning down a field of Grain, only for a Storm to come and make rain and wind assist the Ground in regrowing
Loki Literally has demonstrated the power to control heat and fire more than Thor has been shown as a Storm God. Heat Based Illusions are said to be Loki “Milking his Goats”, when he was running from the other Aesir he invented the Fishing Net then LIT IT ON FIRE to dispose of it
In terms of archeology, blacksmiths would have a stone that helps with controlling heat, and what do you know we found one that has Loki’s face on it

explanation over

Wood Half Elf as a reference to his mom with the Charlatan background
Put all stats at 10, have the +2 go to Dexterity and the +1 go to Wisdom, put something into Wisdom but have most of it in Dexterity
Put skill into Survival to represent the nights he survived on the run from the other gods
Body 2
Voice 5
Face 5
Skin: Blush Tone 5
Scar 8 to represent Loki’s injury of having scarred lips from the time his fucking mouth was sewn shut
Eyes: Elf Autum
Hair: Sorcha Curls looks like the hair that the oldest Loki depiction found has
Beard: Charlatan’s Goatee is accurate to all ancient Loki depictions we’ve found
Hair Color: Ginger 5
Lv4 Circle of the Moon Druid for animal shapeshifting, Lv8 Thief Rogue for obvious reasons
Required Spells: Minor Illusion, Goodberry (as a reference to the Mistletoe Loki used to kill Baldur), Produce Flame, Flame Blade, Heat Metal,
In Act 1: help out the Myconid Coloney through both quest for the Voice of the Cirlce amulet,
In Act 2: get into a fight with the Strange Ox and loot the Shapeshifter’s Boon ring from the body, then go to Moonrise to get the Ring of Free Action from Araj Oblodra,
In Act 3: Kill the Githyanki in the Emperor’s Hideout for the Boots of Psionic Movement (Loki has Flying Shoes), go to Dammon’s shop to get the Unwanted Masterwork Scalemail, then go to the Devil’s Fee store and buy the Shapeshifter Hat, then go to the Grand Mausoleum at -257,-886 for the Vivacious Cloak, Kill Raphael for the Helldusk Gloves
Any Suggestions for Mythology Builds 7?

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