Hey everyone, this sub helped me so much with figuring out about this condition and eventually helping me find a doctor that would give me the botox treatment, so I wanted to give a full detailed account of my experience to help anyone else in the beginning of their journey!
So for some context I am 21F and for as long as I can recall, I’ve never burped. My parents tell me I had no issues burping as a baby, so somewhere in my early life I lost the ability to burp. I can remember having symptoms for many years now, but it’s only been in the last few years of me starting college and getting into my intended career field when this condition started to really affect my life negatively. My biggest symptoms were the gurgling frog noises, painful bloating, and painful hiccups.
I found out about this condition probably a year or two ago, and then finally after one particularly embarrassing experience with the gurgling noises I finally decided to try and start the process of getting the botox procedure. For more context I’m located in the state of Georgia and have Kaiser Health insurance.
So in December 2023 I saw a Primary Care Doctor in order to get a referral to an ENT. Thanks to this subreddit I knew how important it was that I saw an ENT and didn't get referred to a GI doctor. During this appointment I initially didn’t bring up RCPD because I had a feeling my doctor wouldn’t take a self diagnosis seriously. However after discussing my symptoms, (which she had a hilariously confused face when I explained my symptoms and exclaimed “Wow I’ve never had someone come to me with this issue before!”) she said she felt like it was likely a GI issue. So after hearing this I decided to bring up that I had done some online research, which she actually was incredibly receptive to and even encouraged me to share what I had found. I explained to her RCPD and watched her google the condition right in front of me, and after reading some webpages she was in agreement that this is likely what I had, and changed my referral to ENT!
On January 9th 2024 I had my ENT appointment, which was pretty straightforward. My Primary Care Doctor wrote in my referral about RCPD, so the ENT’s I met with had researched the condition before my appointment. They performed an endoscopy on me to make sure I didn’t have any other issues that could be causing my symptoms, but everything came back clean. Since they found no other issues that could be causing my symptoms, they were in agreement that I likely had RCPD. However the Kaiser ENT told me that they don’t perform the Botox procedure through their system of healthcare hospitals/offices, so they’d be writing me a referral to Dr. Andrew Tkaczuk at Emory University Hospital in Atlanta, GA. Even though I already knew about Dr. Tkaczuk through this subreddit, I’m glad I went through these 2 appointments with Kaiser first because it made the process of getting the botox procedure covered by Kaiser Insurance basically automatic.
On February 21st 2024 I had my first appointment at Emory with Dr. Tkaczuk. Once again this was pretty straightforward. I got another endoscopy which once again came back clean. He made sure I didn’t have any issues with acid reflux or heartburn, because in his experience the botox procedure can make those conditions worse. He also let me know that he’s performed this procedure over a hundred times now and never had any complications. I think he mentioned only having to redose maybe 3 patients when their first dose didn’t work. He did warn me that he mostly uses the botox procedure as a cure to bloating issues, as typically most of his patients don't go on to be world class belchers, but instead can burp just enough to relieve their symptoms of bloating and gas build up in the body. After going through all of the risks and potential side effects, I got the greenlight to get the botox procedure.
On April 12th 2024 I got my Botox procedure, and everything was incredibly easy! I showed up to Emory Hospital at 1pm and got taken back to pre-op by 1:30ish. I was not intubated since I am young and the procedure would only take around 30 minutes max, and they made sure to protect my teeth to prevent any damage that the instruments could cause. I underwent general anesthesia (Dr. Tkaczuk explained that he’s more comfortable doing the procedure under GA since the injection site is so close to vocal cords and other things that could be easily damaged if done under local) and was injected with 50 units of botox. I woke up and went home after the procedure with only a very minor sore throat. Dr. Tkaczuk warned me that I might not have any relief of my symptoms until 2 days after the procedure when the botox would likely begin to take effect. For the rest of my procedure day (Day 0) I only had a minor sore throat that eventually had gone away by bedtime.
Day 1 Post Botox Procedure I woke up and immediately drank some Sprite and Dr. Pepper, and luckily had no issues with any slow swallowing. I wasn’t getting my hopes up that I’d have any micro burps since I wasn’t 2 days post-op yet, but turns out I had nothing to worry about! Only a few hours after waking up I had my first micro-burp during a sneeze, and it only got more prevalent throughout the day. I naturally am a bit of a Dr. Pepper addict, so I was consuming fizzy drinks all day. The Dr. Pepper and Sprite gave me some occasional micro-burps, but eventually I drank a fizzy drink called “Guarana Antarctica” (A Brazilian soda similar tasting to Sprite which can be found at Brazilian grocery stores or Publix!) and that drink caused my burps to increase like crazy, so if you’re looking for a drink to induce your burps maybe try that! By night time I was practically micro-burping after every sip of a drink and even let out some quite large and quite nasty tasting burps. I also had at least 3 burps where I could feel acid come up through my nose a bit, which was definitely unpleasant but weirdly nice to experience because it told me that the procedure did its job! However all these burps were 100% uncontrollable. I did find that it was easier to get them out by turning my head to the side, but some just naturally came out while I was talking and I had no control to hold it back (I accidentally burped right in my aunt's face while talking to her!).
Day 3 Post Botox Procedure I started to get some very minor slow swallow side effects. I only experienced it when eating certain foods and luckily not with liquids. It didn’t really make it much harder to eat, I just had to wash down my bites with a drink every so often to make sure food didn’t get stuck in my throat. But otherwise my micro-burps continued as normal, but still were quite involuntary and I still didn’t have much control over them.
2 Weeks Post Botox Procedure not much has changed. I can still burp quite frequently, some sounding like loud real burps but most are just small releases of air. My slow swallow has pretty much gone away, sometimes I still need to chase some large bites of food down with liquid but it's not as bad as it was in the beginning. One thing I’ve noticed that is kind of annoying is I cant drink anything if I’m not sitting up completely straight, and if I lay down too quickly after sipping something the liquid will come right back up! I assume that my esophagus is just kind of always a little open right now which is causing this. The other day I did have what I’d consider a “burp attack” after drinking some Chick Fil A sweet tea. I was in class and literally could not stop burping, which was great for practice but none of these burps offered any release. I’d let out a burp but still feel like there was air trapped in my chest. This only ended after I stopped drinking the tea and drank some soda instead, overall it was pretty weird and so I’m curious if anyone else has experienced something similar. But so far I haven't noticed any painful bloating which has been great! I’ve explained the condition and procedure to all my friends, so whenever I’m hanging out with them they all encourage me with my burps which has been quite funny.
3 Weeks Post Botox Procedure my slow swallow symptoms are completely gone, and I’m experiencing full and natural burps when appropriate instead of small micro burps constantly through the day. I’m pretty sure I’ve learned how to burp at this point, but its hard to say until the botox really wears off. However I recently started experiencing a new and unpleasant side effect, which is throwing up a little bit in my mouth when I bend down too quickly. It’s only happened twice so far, but its very unpleasant, but I’m not super concerned since it’s likely just due to the muscle still being always slightly open. Another side effect is very jarring and painful burps that go up my nose after drinking soda. It’s really hard to describe but I’m sure anyone who has experienced it knows what I’m talking about. I’ve asked my non-RCPD family members if this is a normal thing and they all say that a burp like that happens very rarely, so I’m thinking it’ll go away soon.
5 Weeks Post Botox Procedure and all of my previous side effects have gone away! My burps are natural and happening at normal times still with the occasional burp when I sneeze. No more acid burps with soda, no more minor throwing up in my mouth when bending down. I was supposed to have a follow up appointment with Dr. T this week, but due to some scheduling conflicts I had to cancel it. However I’m pretty sure he would have given me a clean bill of health, and at least in my opinion I can pretty confidently say I’ve been cured of RCP-D! I’m pretty sure it’ll be another month or two before the botox fully wears off, so if something major changes I’ll update this post. But I think at this point it’s safe to say all of my side effects are gone, and my body has stabilized to its new normal!
Overall I am incredibly grateful for how easy this process was for me. I’m so thankful that I never dealt with any doctors not believing in my symptoms or the condition itself, and the fact that the botox kicked in so quickly and I had minimal side effects! Thanks for reading if you made it all the way down here, I hope this helps someone with their experience!

Link to Part 1 (Read This First)
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Something inside Rob's head clicked. He exhaled, cleared his thoughts, and concentrated. There was no time to plan – so he made some for himself.
Quick Thinking Level Increased! $^&$#*# → (@^$(#)&
The world went still, as if he'd pressed pause on reality.
Okay.
What Skills was he underutilizing? What stats was he underutilizing?
Go down the list. Reassess your preconceptions. Strength to deal damage. Vitality to survive. Endurance to fight for long periods. Dexterity to catch his prey. Perception to find his prey. Mind to shield his...well, mind. Magic to use certain Skills, especially Rampage. All necessary and important.
Yet not always treated equally.
He felt confident that he was getting the most out of his Strength, Vitality, and Dexterity. They were his bread-and-butter stats. Perception less so, but he couldn't exactly call time-out on the fight to go train his senses. Mind–
Actually, Mind was linked to a surprising number of abilities. Passive boosts like Heat Resistance, utility Skills like Speed Reading, and even things like...
Sense Mana.
He'd never been great at Sensing Mana. It didn't come naturally to him. Then again, what about any of this was natural? That ship had sailed the moment he started making numbers go up by killing squirrels. He wasn't here for an honest duel – he was here to cheat his way to victory over the inhuman despots of the divine realms.
And luckily, nothing cheated harder than Level 99 Skills. For example, this highly interesting bit he recalled from Never Forget Your Rage: 'Significantly increases the user's proficiency with Sense Mana.' He hadn't given it much thought before, simply because manipulating mana wasn't his forte. It didn't seem relevant to how he typically won battles.
Time to fix that.
Rob charged. It was a direct frontal assault with no bells or whistles attached. Quick Thinking slowed his perception of reality to a crawl as he watched Kismet prep his teleport.
In that same split-second, he focused on Sense Mana, expanding his awareness across the battlefield. I feel...Kismet. Myself. Riardin's Rangers. The lesser gods. Divine essence. Rifts leaking. Energy. Energy everywhere. Yikes. Is this what Malika senses all the time? How can she hear herself think?
Eyes twitching, Rob pruned out any unnecessary information, separating the white noise from what was important. He sharpened his awareness to a razor-thin point and searched. Amidst the clamor of magic, rifts, and divinity, he found...
A disturbance. No larger than a ripple in a vast ocean. Yet it was there. Something new.
Something that had started right when Kismet saw him charge.
The god weaved mana, initiating his escape.
{TEN! YOU–}
Rob smothered the static into a low whisper, rushing towards that tiny ripple. Kismet's teleportation spells were instantaneous, but to an Ascending HUMAN with unnatural Perception and Quick Thinking, nothing in the universe was truly beyond perceiving. He reacted in the space between moments, Sensing where the god's teleport would end up, then heading straight for it.
Which meant that when Kismet re-appeared, Rob was already mere inches away.
PURGE DIVINITY.
He aimed for the center of mass. Leveling High's static had gone silent, as if rendered speechless. Rob watched in slow motion as – without even a hint of resistance – his hand sank into the stunned god's torso.
GOOOOT. YOOOOU. Fingers clenched, energy pulsed, and laughter echoed. A thrill of triumph surged through Rob's veins, like adrenaline mixed with sweet ambrosia. For a brief micro-instant, he was allowed to believe that the battle had been won.
Then Kismet exploded.
It was more startling than harmful – like a Riardin's Special of divine essence detonating in Rob's face. Without warning, the god's mana-body abruptly burst apart, scattering in all directions.
The HUMAN was left in a state of baffled disbelief, holding his arm out towards nothing. Was that...it? Had Purge Divinity triggered the godly equivalent of an allergic reaction? Because it was supposed to eradicate their mana, not do that. And considering that the gods could shape their mana at will, how much would exploding realistically affect them?
What if this was no different than a lizard abandoning its tail?
His suspicions were confirmed when Kismet reformed a safe distance away. The god was clutching his wounded chest area, looking somewhat worse for the wear. Fear and outrage had overtaken his countenance. "How did you discern where I would appear? How?!"
Rob didn't respond. Instead, he stared at the fragment of divine essence clutched in his hand. It was all that remained from what should have been checkmate.
A consolation prize for his failed efforts.
{...Eleven.}
Leveling High said nothing else. It didn't need to. Rob couldn't even fool himself into thinking that he'd proven his point. While this was the most damage he'd inflicted on Kismet so far, it was hardly the decisive blow he'd wished for.
That wasn't enough to warrant another eleven fruitless chases. Not when both his body and the divine realms were treading ever closer to collapse. The ever-increasing weariness of his flesh was proof of that. Victory wasn't impossible, but it seemed increasingly unlikely that he could seize it before catastrophe struck.
I've still taken a step forward. If I make use of Sense Mana again, react faster next time...then Kismet would adapt as well. The slippery bastard wasn't going to be caught off-guard in the exact same manner. He would also be siphoning more mana from the rifts, gradually increasing his power – whereas Rob's had plateaued.
Unless...unless...{unless...}
Unless the HUMAN Ascended.
As if drawn by the pull of destiny, his gaze locked onto the fragment of divinity held within his grip. Rob shivered as a red haze began coating his vision. The essence called to him, singing a melody of transcendence, inviting him to throw off the restrictive shackles of mortality and become something greater.
He just needed to devour it. Accept its divinity unto himself. Embrace his metamorphosis, and gain the might of gods. With his full potential realized...he could save everyone.
At the cost of his humanity.
Maybe the distinction shouldn't matter at this point. Compared to the average Elatran, his mortality was essentially window dressing. What mortal could go toe-to-toe with the creators of a world? Besides, the Blight-child could've been wrong about Ascension changing him. Even if he went and made things official, 'preserving these worlds' would always be his goal. He would still be himself.
Probably.
Assuming that godhood didn't forcibly alter his personality.
Assuming that being subjected to infinity didn't splinter his weary mind.
Assuming that Leveling High wasn't misleading him in some way.
Assuming...a lot of things, really.
I shouldn't be hesitating. Rob glared at the divine essence as if it was a poisonous viper. Of \course* this is risky. It's still less risky than praying I get a lucky hit on Kismet in the immediate future. I've always preferred to roll the dice if it would better my odds, so why–*
{Your true emotions are laid bare to me,} Leveling High interrupted, hissing loudly. {These justifications mask a core of selfishness. You worry that Ascending will leave your friends behind.} It made a noise of distaste. {Apparently, that is more important than ensuring their survival.}
Rob froze. All at once, several puzzle pieces slotted into place.
Leveling High wasn't entirely wrong. He was being selfish. Rob knew that even in the best-case scenario, Ascending would turn him into an existence that was incompatible with living in the mortal realms. It would be like the disconnect he'd felt when visiting Fiend territory recently, only magnified a hundred times over.
None of that sounded remotely appealing. Ultimate power wasn't worth feeling eternally isolated. His visions of the Original Will, Second Will, and gods had made that exceptionally clear.
However...if that was all, he wouldn't be hesitating right now. Unlike the rest of his Party, he was totally allowed to make heroic sacrifices. Rules for thee and not for me. Rob would've discarded his humanity in a heartbeat if he thought there was no other way. Logically, he did think that.
Emotionally, he didn't.
Because he wasn't alone.
Even at his most fatalistic, Rob couldn't overrule the part of him that believed in Riardin's Rangers. If he kept faith...just for a little while longer...
They would grant him a miracle.
It was then that a warbling SCREECH resounded throughout the realms.
Rob and Kismet were unable to suppress their curiosity. Making sure to keep an eye on each other, they cautiously directed a portion of their attention to the screech's origin. Both were fully intending to ambush the other if they detected the smallest hint of carelessness.
They still almost lost composure after noticing what was going on.
At a separate corner of the battlefield, Zamira was tearing into her opponent with what could only be described as ruthless efficiency. The god flailed like a helpless lamb before a butcher, impotently thrashing about as a Skill-wreathed sword carved into it time and again. Mana erupted in a conflagration of panic, but Zamira sidestepped its reprisal with graceful ease, untouched and unfazed as she went back to one-sidedly dominating a literal deity.
Rob resisted the urge to rub his eyes. He was having difficulty understanding what he was watching. It wasn't just that Zamira was winning – it was the way she was winning. From what he could surmise, her stats hadn't increased. She didn't seem stronger or faster than before.
Yet her movements embodied the very pinnacle of swordsmanship as an art form. Precise, calculated, but flowing like water. She was a painter at work, and with every stroke of her brush on the canvas, her final portrait took shape.
One-by-one, all other battles ground to a halt. Seven mortals and seven gods stood transfixed as they bore witness to expertise not seen in many thousands of years.
Like a wounded animal, Zamira's foe – or more accurately, her training dummy – lashed out. Destructive mana surrounded her. Exhibiting zero concern, she dashed forward and imbued her sword with the light of a Skill.
"Lost Art: Moonlight's Mirror." In one swift motion, she sliced up through the mana in front of her. The light imbuing her sword repelled the god's energy, parting its magic like the Red Seas. Zamira immediately dashed into the opening she'd created and scored another vicious blow, disengaging before the god could retaliate.
Lost Art? Rob pondered. Okay, that's \definitely* new.* He'd been in the room when Riardin's Rangers discussed their Level 99 Class Skills, and Zamira hadn't mentioned anything like this. Something must've changed while he was busy fighting Kismet...not that Rob was in any rush to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Zamira moved as a blur of silver and steel, shifting behind her opponent. "Lost Art: Aura Blade." The light enshrining her sword intensified, and when she struck next, it left an injury on the god's mana-body that struggled to heal. By now its form appeared threadbare, like a patchwork quilt that had been ripped and sewn back together countless times.
That was when Rob truly realized what was happening. Zamira's fancy footwork and new Skills were impressive, yet they wouldn't have amounted to anything if she couldn't deal lasting damage – which she was. While her Aura Blade wasn't nearly as effective as Purge Divinity, it had still achieved the combination of raw power and mana manipulation that was necessary to harm a creature of energy.
Slowly but surely, the god was dying.
Everyone else realized that around the same moment. The lesser gods moved to assist their comrade, and Riardin's Rangers quickly intercepted them. Rob caught sight of Keira bashing her god aside with the flat of her greatsword, knocking it away before it could cast a spell at Zamira.
Noticing a flicker of motion, Rob took one step towards Kismet. The god halted in place, his arm half-risen. They exchanged a long look. Kismet didn't want to restart their song and dance, and Rob didn't want to miss the show.
Eventually, the HUMAN let out a chuckle. He waggled his finger at his dance partner, as if admonishing an unruly toddler."LeT hER CoOK."
And cook she did. Unhindered, Zamira methodically dismantled her god. Cut by cut, and piece by piece, the deity was whittled down to a pale imitation of its former glory. Once or twice it managed to slightly graze her with an attack, but that was all.
Its fate had been sealed for a long time now.
"Lost Art: Eight-Pointed Jaws." Zamira hammered the god with a rapid flurry of blows. Each strike carved a line of mana into its body. When the eighth line had been unleashed, the god suddenly crumpled inward, as if it was being chomped on by the maw of an enormous beast.
Piteous screams melded with the sound of a Bladesoul readying her most powerful Skill. Its aura shone with a wicked silver glow, like a falling guillotine reflecting the sunlit rays of a new dawn.
"K-Kismet!" The god reached out to its leader with a trembling limb. "Please! Kism–"
"CREATED ART: GOD-SLAYING SWORD!"
She cut just once.
The god burnt away, leaving not even ashes in the wind.
Rob concentrated with Sense Mana. His mouth split into a feral grin when he searched for the god's essence and detected absolutely fucking nothing. It was gone. Kaput. Finito. Wouldn't have been possible without Kismet draining his own allies to save his skin, but he had, so here they were.
The HUMAN activated Purge Divinity and clenched his fist. He destroyed the essence fragment he'd ripped from Kismet, then fixed the god with a gaze of murderous finality.
"ChECkMaTE."
Kismet flinched, comprehension dawning on him as he envisioned how the rest of the battle would play out. Zamira didn't seem the least bit winded. She had plenty of gas left in the tank, and was currently heading over to team up with one of her allies and slay the next god.
With that in mind...the day's outcome had already been decided. Rob would keep Kismet busy. Riardin's Rangers would steadily clean up the lesser gods. Then, as a full Party, they would gang up on Kismet and beat the everloving shit out of him.
No fuss, no muss.
Kismet began to panic – then stopped, centering himself. He seemed to reach a decision, some plan formulating in his thoughts.
Defiance? Oh, that's adorable. The BERSERKER's grin grew so wide that it hurt. Let's make this a game. His hands pulsed brightly with Purging energy. Will I kill you before my Party members finish up on their end? We win either way, but hey! Can't have them do \all* the work–*
"Elder Alessia is dead."
Rob's breath caught in his throat.
She...what? He'd heard Kismet speak, but, no, that couldn't be–
"Elder Alessia is dead. Remember that I cannot lie."
He tried to respond. No words came out. It felt as if the world had vanished from underneath his feet.
"Elder Alessia is dead," Kismet repeated, for the third time. "She used Soul Burn to keep the Queen of Dragons at bay."
She...she used...
Rob hadn't seen Alessia when he went to check on Fiend territory. Didn't think anything of it. Wasn't like he looked everywhere. Figured he'd just missed her.
But she was...gone? Since Ragnavi? He'd spent days expunging Dungeons and Leviathans, gallivanting around Elatra like a fucking idiot, thinking that at least he'd prevented more people he cared about from dying, when the whole time, Alessia had been–
{BEHIND!}
The warning came far too late.
Even if it had come earlier, though, he still might not have dodged. Kismet's attack wasn't packed full of destructive magic like his other spells. Sense Mana didn't register it as a threat. Rob immediately cast Dauntless Reprisal on reflex, but that didn't help either.
Because this wasn't intended to damage him.
A surge of mana pierced Rob's back. An intense burning coursed through him, as if his veins and skin were simultaneously being set aflame. It was a sensation that, unfortunately, he recognized.
Kismet had directly infused his soul with mana.
This wasn't the first time. The gods had done it once before to refill Rob's Purging energy stores. In fact, although they'd warned him of the consequences, he'd pushed for it rather...vocally.
Despite being inflicted with Soul Instability as a result, Rob didn't regret his choice. Back then, it had been the key to finally ending the Second Will's appalling ambitions.
Now?
It was no better than adding ten tons of weight onto rotting support beams.
Rob fell to his knees. Agony and weakness suffused his body. He felt Purging energy swell within – for all the good it would serve him, because he couldn't move a muscle.
An unsurprising system notification popped into view.
Warning: Soul Instability has increased to High!
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Thanks for reading!

Author's Note:
7700 words, broke Reddit's character limit, so you know the drill. Will be split into two parts, both posted today. Enjoy!
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"Stop! STOP!"
The terror in Kismet's voice rose higher as death drew nearer. He fled from Rob's grasping hand, but a Purge Divinity-infused fingernail managed to graze him, carving out a scoop of divine essence as if flaying a mortal's skin.
Kismet let out a screech as the Purging energy added to his growing collection of scars. A dozen small holes now dotted the surface of his mana-body, looking like he'd been pockmarked by wasting disease. Each wound represented a moment where the god had narrowly escaped with his life.
If those injuries had been inflicted by any other ability, then he could have rejuvenated himself in the time it took to blink. Purging energy was not so kind as that. It was purifying wrath in the shape of a Skill; their vengeance given form. Whatever divinity it touched, it extinguished.
As if cleansing the universe of a sickness that had infected it for far too long.
The BERSERKER continued his unrelenting advance. In response, Kismet threw up a frantic barrier of mana. It was strong enough to deflect one of Ragnavi's Annihilation beams–
And Rob blasted through it like paper mache. His charge sent broken shards of energy scattering across the divine realms. More mid-air rifts tore open, the HUMAN's aura strangling the surrounding area in a vice grip of power. Purge Divinity seemed to glow with light emanating straight from the pits of hell.
None of which was anywhere near as unnerving as the murder contained within his piercing gaze. When Kismet met Rob's eyes, he saw the end of eternity fast approaching.
The god's next barrier was just as frantic. However, this one was not comprised of mana, but of solid matter. Kismet summoned the hardest, most dense substance known to the mortal realms, then transmuted it into something that otherwise could only have been forged inside the heart of a dying star. It was many times more durable than the impossibly tough walls of an aberrant Dungeon.
So when Rob demolished it with a single punch, he actually had to put a bit of elbow grease into his windup.
Another wall materialized in front of him. He crushed it, then the one after, and the one after that, lashing out with bestial ferocity. The BERSERKER plowed through Kismet's hastily-built defenses like a bulldozer of fists and savagery. Rob was knocking them down as quickly as the god could make them, relishing the sensation of being able to vent his anger on targets that weren't fucking running away.
Then the twelfth wall fell – revealing a monstrous, spiky, fanged behemoth concealed behind.
Rob paused, momentarily taken aback at the sight of a mundane creature within the divine realms. 'Mundane' in relative terms, anyway. This monster was on par with a newborn Blight, radiating power that would have sent ordinary fighters sprinting for the hills.
It was also barely cognizant of its surroundings. The monster stared at him with unblinking, vacant eyes, just the tiniest glimmer of awareness present in its gaze. Rob noted that segments of its flesh were bubbling, as if the creature was fresh out of the oven and still needed to settle.
He couldn't help but feel a modicum of pity. This was yet another thoughtless creation, condemned to existence by an uncaring maker. Even monsters deserved better than that.
Rob caved the beast's head in before it could realize that it was alive. Pity was not the same as hesitation, and this was the only mercy he could afford to grant right now.
Didn't matter. Kismet's pawn served its purpose. In the brief instant that Rob spent getting over his initial surprise, the god had teleported to safety. He was already planning his next stunt that could buy him a few precious seconds of survival.
The HUMAN grimaced as he turned to give chase, unable to suppress the burgeoning sense of unease growing within his chest.
It almost didn't seem fair to feel that way. Rob knew he was winning – at least on the surface. Any outside observer would've bet their life savings on him, especially after the show of overwhelming superiority he'd just displayed. Kismet had been at a disadvantage before Never Forget Your Rage's recent upswing, and now it was no contest. Rob was confident that he would still be stronger even if the eight gods merged into one super-deity.
He also knew that he was living on borrowed time.
Whenever he moved, or activated a Skill, or even breathed...the sensation was there. Strength accompanied by incongruous frailty. Like background noise that kept getting louder with every action he took. His body felt close to pulling itself apart, as if his very molecules were a hairsbreadth away from coming undone.
It was different from Soul Instability. Whereas that threatened to collapse his soul, this frailty was an affliction of the flesh. The longer he fought, the more his physical form was at risk of popping like a balloon.
Such was the price of constraining godlike power within a mortal shell.
"Stay back!" Unaware of the turmoil fermenting in his assailant's mind, Kismet threw up his hands and...inverted...space? Rob didn't have a name for what he was seeing. Rather than stopping to puzzle out this latest brand of divine bullshit, he sent out a pulse of Purge Divinity, canceling whatever esoteric effect Kismet had been attempting to produce.
His Purging energy scraped against the divine realms like a cheese grater. Five rifts immediately tore open near both Rob and Kismet, with the god anxiously retreating from one that appeared just inches away from him. A low rumble echoed around them, and for a moment, they felt struck by an abrupt feeling of vertigo – until the realms gradually stabilized, righting once more.
For now.
Rob eyed the rifts with a detached, clinical gaze. An endless sea of mana resided behind them; the bedrock of the system itself. While he recognized that the rifts tearing open was bad news, he also couldn't really muster the energy to care. Between his overflowing rage, overtaxed body, and overburdened soul, minor details like the impending destruction of reality were hard to give much focus.
There was a way to fix all of that, of course. Rob couldn't outright deactivate Never Forget Your Rage – not without losing its bonus stats. But he could attempt to ease the storm of fury in his heart. By lessening his anger to more reasonable levels, Never Forget Your Rage would put less strain on both his body and the divine realms.
The notion forced a peal of hideous laughter to claw out of his throat. Lessen his anger? He'd have better luck trying to douse a volcano with a garden hose. No. For a wildfire that had grown this out of control, the only thing to do was stand aside and let it burn, burn, burn.
Until naught remained.
"I said stay back!" Kismet bellowed. He lifted his arms into the air. "Begone!" One moment later, Rob's vision was filled with scorching light. An apocalyptic geyser of mana burst forth from underfoot, intense and searing. It stripped the flesh from his bones in no time flat, powering through Almighty Resistance with pure, unmitigated violence.
And it still wasn't fast enough. Rob flickered a Purge Divinity shield for just an instant, allowing him to escape the geyser with his upper body – and most of his HP – intact. Lifesurge swiftly patched him up, leaving both combatants right back where they'd started.
Slowly, Kismet lowered his hands. They were shivering. "What are you?" he whispered. "Why are all my efforts in vain?"
To be honest, Rob was mildly impressed that Kismet had held on for this long. The god's combat efficacy was increasing as time passed, improving from panic-spamming teleports to more inventive maneuvers – as if he was learning how to fight on-the-job. He'd also stopped draining the other gods to supplement his power, having found an alternative source of fuel: mana seeping out from the sporadically-opening rifts.
It was the one silver lining to fighting an implacable BERSERKER so powerful that he fractured reality. Whenever Rob utilized Purge Divinity, more rifts opened up in the realms, and more mana leaked out from inside. The gods had invested that energy into the system millennia ago, and it typically would've been off-limits until they closed up shop and left Elatra. Kismet was making use of it now, absorbing the extra mana to strengthen himself, like a lifeline barely keeping him afloat.
The god's tenacity was...calling it 'admirable' would be going too far, but it did warrant a sort of begrudging respect. As someone who'd tangoed with multiple Blights, Rob knew what it was like to square off against a frenzied beast that could end him with a touch.
Being the scary one was a nice change of pace.
In exchange, Kismet had graciously donned the role of their battle's Combat Class user; fragile, outgunned, and pulling improvised maneuvers out of his ass for a chance at victory. The god could finally feel what it was like to be vulnerable. How exciting! Rob was more than happy to assist. Learning experiences such as these only came around once an eternity or so.
Flippancy aside – while Kismet still possessed room for improvement, this was the most that could be asked of a deity who hadn't seen combat in literal eons. His biggest fuckup had been taunting Rob in the wrong ways, but he couldn't have known about Never Forget Your Rage, that was an excusable oversight. By all other accounts, Kismet was performing adequately.
Even so...
"YoU aRE noTHinG."
The sound of Rob's voice caused two fresh rifts to open up. Kismet flinched, casting a teleportation spell out of pure reflex. Without pause, the HUMAN resumed his hunt.
Nothing. Perhaps that statement was hyperbole – yet it rang true nonetheless. While Kismet may have been a creature of supreme divinity, on the field of battle, his pedigree meant nothing. In the face of an implacable, unstoppable foe, his power was worth nothing. Very soon, he would be nothing, consigned to oblivion by Purging energy.
Rob couldn't help but unfavorably compare Kismet to the final Blight. Weren't these supposed to be two sides of the same coin? Each one-half of an original transcendent Will? Yet the Second Will had brought Rob to the edge of despair...and Kismet was fleeing like a cornered rodent. It was difficult to reconcile the two divinities as theoretical equals.
Although he knew that was an unfair comparison. Rob had fought the Blight before learning Limit Break and Never Forget Your Rage. Kismet wasn't weak.
The HUMAN was just far too strong.
If he rematched the Second Will today, he would beat it to death with his bare hands.
"Look at what you've wrought!" Kismet swept an arm out, gesturing towards some of the many rifts that Rob's presence was tearing open. "Do you understand what will transpire if you persist in this folly?! If the divine realms shatter, then so will all of Elatra! You are on the brink of destroying everything which you have striven to protect! Cease this–"
"CAN'T."
In a flash, Rob dashed forward and scooped out a chunk of the god's mana-body with Purge Divinity. Before he could do more, Kismet shrieked with pain and teleported away, leaving the BERSERKER to crush his prize between five clenched fingers.
"FoRCed mY HAnD." He located Kismet again. "NO GOING BACK."
Stopping wasn't an option. If the divine realms crumbled and Elatra imploded...well, that would be a faster end than what the gods had in store for its people. At least this way their deaths would be quick and hopefully painless – and his friends wouldn't be turned into Skills tortured for all eternity.
Still, Kismet did have a point. Destroying reality wasn't exactly the ideal outcome. There had to be a way to speed up the conclusion of their fight. Rob was certain he would win if given enough time, but he couldn't guarantee it would be before either his body or the divine realms collapsed.
{Ascend.}
Like a snake slithering through a minefield, Leveling High skirted past the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions raging within Rob's mind. He attempted to tune out its voice, yet Humanity's curse refused to be denied, the static loudening until he was compelled to respond. Quit distracting me, he snapped. In case you haven't noticed, I'm FUCKING. BUSY.
{You seek to ensure victory over those who rule above,} Leveling High continued, without missing a step. {As do I.}
Then sit back, shut up, and–
{Ignoring your deficiencies will not make them disappear. This body is...feeble. Incomplete. Unfit to wield the power contained therein. Like a polished sword attached to a brittle hilt, liable to snap in twain at any moment.}
Rob grit his teeth. He couldn't deny Leveling High's assertions. Normally he'd just tell it to piss off, but considering how much was at stake here...
With a feeling like he'd sat down to deal with the devil, Rob sighed. Then what do you propose? That we upgrade my body somehow? I don't think putting more points into Vitality would help, even if I had any to spare. Me being so juiced up on stats is half the problem.
It shook its head. {You have far surpassed the limitations of mortality. Strengthening your power further would be akin to pouring water into an overflowing cup.}
So we...what, increase the size of the cup?
Static akin to laughter echoed inside his head. {We do away with it entirely.}
An icy chill began creeping up Rob's spine, as if the cold hands of fate were working their way towards his neck. He recalled a system notification from days before – 'Your Race has morphed from Human (?) to: Ascending HUMAN'.
Not Ascended. Ascending.
Weeks-old memories came surging to the forefront. 'The Heartkiller is closer to our form of life than those you call friends,' the Blight-child of Elysium had once said. 'As long as you continue to live, eventually, you will become an existence with the power to crush the Others and free the Skills from their shackles. You are no longer one of the Ephemeral. Now, you are a cocoon, metamorphosing into something grander. When you emerge, you will be as the Eternal.'
The Blight-child had laughed at him, then. 'After joining us, preserving these worlds will no longer be your desire.'
Rob grimaced. Denied, he flatly told Leveling High. Whatever you're about to suggest isn't happening.
It scoffed at him. {Your prejudices blind you. Do you think the gods have need of physical bodies? Does it hinder them in any capacity? No – the opposite. By definition, infinity cannot be constrained. Discard this useless flesh, and your conquest of the divine realms is assured.}
Maybe you didn't hear me when I said–
{By all means. Spurn my counsel...and condemn your friends to death. Shall their lives be worth it, in the end?}
Rob sucked in air through clenched teeth.
{Ascend.} Leveling High purred with anticipation. {You are bound by a prison of meat, bone, and blood. Break free. Finish what has already begun. Gaze upon the tapestry of infinity in all its dreadful splendor. Seize victory not as a Human, but as a completed, transcendent HUMAN.}
With a scream to drown out the static, Rob chased after Kismet again and again. The god was in full-on panic mode, eschewing offensive attacks in favor of perpetual retreat, focused wholly on keeping the BERSERKER as far away as possible. He would teleport the instant that Rob laid eyes on him, frantically stalling for his life.
It was – quite unintentionally – providing evidence to Leveling High's claims. If Kismet was on the defensive, catching him would take time they might not have.
I... Rob narrowed his eyes. How would I finish Ascending, anyway? It isn't like I can just flip a switch and make it happen.
{Incorrect.}
He blinked. WHAT?
{You have long since achieved the qualifications for true godhood,} Leveling High explained, in a lecturing tone. {There is no milestone that remains necessary to achieve. Rather than needing to overcome some hurdle of strength or power, the obstacle barring your path is more...arbitrary. Self-imposed.}
Humanity's curse seemed to peer into his soul. When it spoke next, its voice was filled with disgust. {You remain mortal because you wish to do so – both consciously and subconsciously. The Ascension of a nascent deity has been obstructed by cheap sentimentality.}
Rob almost started an argument over its usage of 'cheap', but he exercised restraint, keenly aware that there was bigger fish to fry. Can't do anything about the subconscious. I am \not* activating Melancholy Resistance.*
{Nor should you,} Leveling High remarked, shuddering at the prospect. {A grand statement of intent will be sufficient to shift your mentality. I believe...yes.}
The static churned like a hive of buzzing wasps. {When you next tear off a piece of the leader god's mana...even if just a sliver...devour it. Gorge yourself on their essence.}
Bile threatened to rise to the top of Rob's throat. Seems excessive, he mused, trying and failing to keep his tone lighthearted. To become a god, I eat a god? Wouldn't that make me a divine cannibal?
{You ARE a cannibal.} Leveling High's voice wavered, its veneer of helpfulness slipping to reveal the madness that lay beneath. {What do you think you've been DOING for nearly a YEAR? You kill, ingest your prey's Experience, and MAKE THEIR POWER YOUR OWN. This world is one of consumption and parasitism – devouring a god's essence is merely a more HONEST variant of THE SAME actions.}
...You clearly weren't paying attention during Diplomacy's PR lessons. Rob pursued Kismet once again, pressing his fingernails into his palms when the god hurriedly teleported away. There is such a thing as being too straightforward. If you want people to listen to you, then maybe dress up your words so they don't sound so horrifying.
{BUT AM I WRONG?}
Rob had no answer to that.
Bolts of divine mana peppered his skin. Kismet had barely managed to squeeze an attack in-between his escapes. The bolts ricocheted off Rob's skin like ping-pong balls, leaving minor scrapes and nothing more. It wasn't anywhere close to bypassing Almighty Resistance and his massive HP pool.
Yet it also reminded him of the mana-spears that Kismet had sent towards the rest of Riardin's Rangers. His Party members only possessed a shared, diluted version of Almighty Resistance, and their HP was a fraction of his. If Kismet aimed another attack of that caliber at them...how many would perish, right then and there?
Was Leveling High correct? What point was there to sentimentality if it just got his friends killed?
In truth, Rob knew that it didn't really matter if he completed his Ascension. Based on what he had planned for himself after the gods were dead, little would change either way. Still...he also knew that Ascending would be a one-way trip. No take-backs. If he went through with it, a fundamental part of him would be irrevocably altered.
Something twinged in a corner of his mind. It wasn't Leveling High, or his rage, or any of the other emotions currently dominating his headspace. This was a familiar friend; perhaps Rob's #1 most trusted confidant since he'd first set foot in Elatra. One that had rarely ever steered him wrong.
Paranoia.
And at the moment, it was telling him to be very careful before jumping into the deep end.
Ten teleports.
{What?}
Give it ten more Kismet teleports, Rob said. If I haven't dealt him a serious injury by then....I'll do what I need to do. He grimaced as Kismet vanished before he'd even finished the thought. Ten starting now.
Leveling High's static quieted. It resembled a patron at a restaurant who'd ordered their meal, and was waiting patiently for the main course to arrive.
Rob didn't waste time being offended over its nonchalance. Free of distractions, he immediately swept his gaze across the divine realms, pinpointing his quarry in a micro-instant. The BERSERKER dashed forward, pushing his body as far as he could, layering Rampages on top of Dexterity that made the laws of physics want to curl up and weep.
Kismet was prepared. He'd drawn more mana from the fractured rifts, quickening his speed and reactions. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep his head above water, not yet outpaced by their continually escalating arms race.
The HUMAN struck, the god fled, and both were left in the same position as before.
{One.}
Rob turned on a dime, charging without needing to look. He'd heard the moment that Kismet's teleport ended. It afforded him a split-second head start.
A gravity well suddenly appeared below his feet, as if a miniaturized black hole was weighing him down. Apparently, Kismet had set it up ahead of time as a just-in-case trap. Rob pierced through the spell's area of effect before it could ramp up to something dangerous, but his pace was slowed by a hair in the process, and his prey escaped.
{Two.}
You know what? Screw this. Rob whirled away from Kismet's newest location and blasted straight towards one of the lesser deities that his Party members were fighting.
He'd been too hung up on getting even with a hated foe – when there were seven other juicy morsels for him to play with. This way, Kismet would either sit back and watch as his allies were massacred, or the god would be forced to act instead of running like a goddamn cowar–
Sense Mana alerted Rob to magic gathering behind.
Pivoting, he leapt into the air. Rob superimposed himself in front of Kismet, bodyblocking the rainstorm of destructive mana that was about to be unleashed upon Riardin's Rangers.
Due to his swift response, the attack was released early. A simple Purge Divinity shield prevented him from incurring any damage. Rob still felt no sense of triumph as the mana dissipated around him. He just wasn't fast enough to kill the lesser gods and protect his Party at the same time – or at least not fast enough that he should gamble their lives on it.
Kismet disappearing a moment later didn't help matters either.
{Three.}
Frontal assaults weren't guaranteed to succeed, and targeting the other gods was a no-go. Could he take Kismet by surprise? Increase his Dexterity?
Rob contemplated mining Never Forget Your Rage for more stats, but swiftly vetoed the idea. His body was already struggling to hold itself together. Putting additional strain on a shaky foundation seemed...unwise.
Plus – at the risk of eating crow in the near future – he didn't actually think it was possible to feel angrier at the gods than he was right now. Seriously, what was left?
He hated them for sending him to a fantasy deathworld. He hated them for tormenting his friends and family. He hated them for being partially responsible for the Blight. He hated them for what they'd done to Elatra and Earth. He hated them for all the lives they'd stolen. He hated them for being the living embodiments of indifference and cruelty. He hated that they fostered good PR among the people they oppressed. He hated how monsters of such craven hypocrisy were also immeasurably powerful. He hated the sensation of divine mana crawling on his skin. He hated the unsettling sound of their voices. He hated their bizarre formless appearances. He hated them for being pompous pricks. He hated whenever they tried to relate to him. He hated whenever they didn't.
Most of all, he hated that they were still alive.
Even if he found out that they'd personally antagonized him since birth or some petty nonsense like that, it wouldn't measure up to the litany of transgressions they'd committed thus far. The blazing inferno within his soul could burn no hotter. Should burn no hotter. For his sanity's sake, if nothing else.
Kismet teleported. It wasn't in response to anything. He'd merely anticipated some sort of action – and was then baffled afterwards when he noticed the rampaging BERSERKER standing quietly in deep thought.
{Four.}
Rob advanced. While he didn't have a plan yet, he'd also learned that if he gave Kismet the slightest amount of breathing room, bad things tended to happen.
Can any of my Skills give me an edge? Unfortunately, he didn't think so. As usual, his lack of ranged options was biting him in the ass when it mattered most. Almost everything he could use required getting in close – which was the whole freaking problem – and none would be more effective than Purge Divinity, regardless.
Maybe I could set up a Waymark point, then catch Kismet's teleport with one of mine...no, that won't work either. The odds of him popping in next to a random Waymark point are slim. Could fill the battlefield with lots of Marks, but even then I have to consider the Skill's activation time. With my current Dexterity, it'd honestly be faster just to run at him.
The vast majority of his abilities simply weren't up to par in a clash with divinity. Limit Break, Purge Divinity, and Never Forget Your Rage had been specifically designed by the Skills to facilitate deicide. Something like Power Slash couldn't possibly compare to jailbroken stats and a touch of death.
As an act of defiance against his own logic, he cast Enmity, the only ability that could feasibly hit Kismet at range. The god casually shrugged off its effect before promptly escaping.
{Five.}
Like a frustrated animal, Rob snarled and gave chase. Just need to keep trying. Kismet isn't perfect.
{Six.}
Sooner or later, he's going to mess up.
{Seven.}
He's going to mess up.
{Eight.}
HE HAS TO MESS UP.
Suddenly, Kismet transformed his right hand into a blade of mana. With one harsh motion, he sliced open his own left arm.
By now, Rob had conditioned himself to never stop moving forward, even if something shocked him – which this sight very much did. His mouth dropped open, and Leveling High paused in the middle of eating its metaphorical popcorn. They still kept advancing without an iota of hesitation.
And ran straight into the mana cloud leaking out from Kismet's wound.
Rob blinked, opening his eyes to a wonderful day. The twisting plains looked dazzlingly beautiful, with fauna and plantlife lit by rays of effervescent light from the twin stars shining above. People cheerfully went about their day, happily shaking their trunks in shows of greeting, or rattling their scales to initiate merry games.
All was at peace.
Until – in unison – everyone froze. The tumult of life went quiet in an instant, replaced with pensive silence.
As if they'd been struck by the creeping, pervasive sensation of being watched.
A sound rang out. Half of them immediately fell over dead, fluids gushing from their ruined bodies.
The survivors could only lay there, crippled and in pain, as more people slowly rose into the air. Invisible fingers seemed to pluck them from the ground – and then began ripping off their limbs, one at a time, like a child dissecting butterflies–
Rob dragged himself back to the present.
It had taken much less time than before to recognize what was happening. Now that he knew what to expect, experiencing the remnant souls' lives wasn't so different from the dreamlike quality of an Attunement vision. Although...realizing that he'd witnessed the end of a world preceding Elatra did cause his thoughts to hitch for a single moment.
Which was just enough for Kismet to forge a spear of mana, then send it plunging through Rob's eye, skull, and brain. Its tip was forged to shred anything it touched, no matter how durable or Resistant.
The god whooped with glee – only to wince as the HUMAN's sole reaction was a long, drawn-out sigh. With an air of exasperation, he reached up and yanked the divine spear free with a nauseating splorch.
His eye had been reduced to a seeping red mess. He closed its eyelid. When he opened it again, the orb within had already Regenerated, now sporting an unamused glare.
It was something of a unique moment. Mid-battle events didn't typically leave both combatants feeling disheartened. The all-powerful god was losing faith that he could ever hope to stop Rob's onslaught...
And the BERSERKER didn't know if he could justify continuing on like this. His body still felt like it was pulling itself apart; if anything, the sensation was growing more pronounced as their battle progressed. While Kismet would make a fatal mistake eventually, Rob couldn't guarantee that he would last long enough to capitalize on it.
Unless he followed Leveling High's advice and–
With a howl that shook the divine realms, Rob launched his stolen spear at Kismet. His aim was true, yet it sailed through empty air, the god's afterimage tauntingly fading away.
{Nine.}
Final chance.
​
--
​
Link to Part 2

First Previous Wiki
Ascendant Denali swept his tail across the floor. "Greetings. The New Ascendancy welcomes you and your kin, Diplomat Sommi."
The Misan creature did its equivalent of a bow, honoring him in his palace as was proper. He had been starved of respect from his surrounding powers lately and would feast upon this memory like a fine cut.
"The Misan Li Heptarchies receive your warm greetings, Ascendant Denali. We offer official congratulations on your ascent to the Trikkec throne, and the continued unification of your people. We are glad that you are regaining your prosperity, and offer additional aid to that end."
It was the perfect language of the High Dialect, with almost no imperfections on the translator's part. An expertly trained device, for sure, given the vast cavern between their respective languages. He had a translator as well working to ensure that the Diplomat heard his words correctly, and that he would know how their language distorted them to prevent any unfortunate misunderstandings.
Such things could be disastrous with certain civilizations, and Denali saw no need to make true enemies. He was strong enough to project power inside the New Ascendancy but nowhere near so outside of it. Pirates and raiders still festered upon the upper borders, and the lower borders were contested by a few minor lords who had survived the collapse of the Ascendancy. He was currently bombarding their planetary shields with asteroids and lasers.
"Aid of what sort, and with what stipulations?" Denali asked, waving an economic advisor over with a stray claw.
"Military and economic."
"Stipulations?"
"You close all business with the Alliance."
"Ah."
Denali stepped off his throne. "Diplomat, I can assume you know how valuable that relationship is to the Ascendancy? I assume you already have a plan to replace them with something better. If your plan is ready, I will have my advisors review it. If not, no further discussions are to take place."
"Do you accept their power over you, Ascendant?"
"In this galaxy, it does not matter what we accept. If a Sprilnav comes barging into your house and takes your mate in front of you, there is nothing you can do. If one of the Core Powers manages to reach us, they can do the same. There are the laws of nations, and there are those of power. The Alliance's aid, even as its darker purposes twist it, has saved millions of lives. Children eating. Families working. They have the might of two AIs behind them."
"They are far too young of a nation for you to realistically believe their abilities are this high."
"Many have made that mistake," Denali said. "They are an older nation than mine, certainly. Would you say that my nation's abilities are lower?"
"I would not."
"Then you tell lies. I am not some foolish monarch who cannot see the reality in front of him. The Alliance's aid is a tool to keep me leashed like some common lizard. But it comes with economic growth and power that fuels the New Ascendancy further. I do not believe I will overtake their growth even when the entire species is reunited. And since your borders are further away than theirs, you will have added economic costs to any aid you give, with little gain on your end."
"They influence your culture. Your people."
"They do," Denali agreed. "You are a powerful nation as well. You would do the same with your own aid, yes? And you would call for us to destroy our traditions, our religions, and our very culture. We have seen your attempts at negotation with other powers nearer to you. You are an aspiring hegemon. But the Alliance's hegemony is already established. The Grand Defense Organization is something that I might even join, when I have the military might to meet their threshold."
"Why?"
"Because when power rises, others can latch on," Denali said. "Your offer, please. I am quite interested to hear it."
The Diplomat gave him a tablet. Denali brought it up with a hologram isolated from the network. His eyes began to shine.
"You should have led with this, Diplomat."
"Ah, but I needed to see the esteemed Ascendant's viewpoint on us. It is a shame that you must bow and scrape to the Alliance. How would you like to meet them on the field of battle?"
Denali chuckled. "I would like it very much, were they a normal nation. But they are taking planet crackers from King Siran and hauling them back to their space. They have a few of their own, not just stolen from the Wisselen."
"And they are pacifist."
"But not weak, Diplomat. All that means is they will not start the fight. But as we stand now, they will finish it. And a transfer of this many ships likely comes with enormous drawbacks and conditions."
"Then let us discuss those conditions, Ascendant. I am sure something more sufficient to your tastes can be selected."
"I am glad to hear that." Denali made a table hologram that was complete with hard light compatibility. Seating for the Misan, his guards, and Denali and his guards also appeared. The table was transparent.
"I will present my documents on this, and we can discuss in greater detail how you can divest from the Alliance without significant economic damage. There are certain facets we have identified which are key to your growth: military might, industrial capacity, and social cohesion."
Denali rubbed his teeth with his claws. Several cooks came in, bringing him food. The Misan Diplomat and his entourage refused, which was expected given the vast differences in their palettes.
"Those are indeed key parts of the Alliance's aid. Do you have an answer for me which is cheaper than the exports of the Alliance?"
"Yes. We can deliver 250 billion androids capable of continuous work for 20 years, each with a 96% likelihood of continued operation at the end of this period. We are willing to deliver these for you at once, though we would only request an escort of your ships alongside our own for added diplomatic security."
"A veritable army," Denali said.
"None of which will carry or operate weapons."
"We would need to verify that before shipping," Denali said. "As we would need to do for the price. The Alliance demands 1% of our current discretionary yearly foreign trade budget. How does your offer compare?"
"We would ask for a 30 year non-aggression agreement, and diplomatic outposts in your territory, as well as a possible defense pact, where we can defend you legally and militarily against Alliance encroachment."
"A large offer," Denali said. "Tell me, what is in it for you?"
"The Heptarchies wish to curtail the Alliance's growing influence by any means necessary, even if it means spending large amounts of money in the process. Having a monetary outflow is something the Heptarchies are happy to entertain, and we would be grateful for you to join us in this endeavor."
"And what of the risk of me playing both sides?"
"We can offer you high enough boons to ensure that does not occur."
So a bribe, then. A massive one. It was already enticing, but Denali sensed he could get more with better negotiations.
"You mentioned social cohesion and military might as well," Denali said. "Can you explain what you mean by this, and what aid you will send to address this?"
Now, the Diplomat looked more uncertain. It was an act, though a fairly convincing one. The pause lengthened.
"Ascendant Denali, surely you understand..."
"I understand you said 'any means necessary' for curtailing the Alliance. With an AI in their nation, such a thing will be expensive, yes? I'm sure that I need not remind you I will choose what is best for my nation overall. And if you cannot come through... I can always notify them of this offer to explore their ability to match it. Or, gods forbid, even exceed it."
"The trade agreement cannot encompass-"
"Then we have nothing more to discuss, Diplomat."
"Wait! Fine, we can discuss it! Just let us work out the new conditions. They're favorable to you, Ascendant. The Heptarchies value you as a potential customer-"
"I'm sure you do. You have four days to present an offer I appreciate more," Denali said, shoving the tablet back at the Diplomat. "Would you like me to procure food capable of Misan consumption?"
"That would be kind of you, Ascendant. We will accept that. And we will begin drafting a more suitable deal for both of our nations."
"Good!" Denali grinned, settling upon his chair with a new sense of pride in his posture.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Elder Pundacrawla settled his robe about his shoulders as he waited outside the room. In his implant, a small countdown reached zero. The silver doors slid open, and his eyes feasted on the room. It was quite ornate, but what really set it apart was the scene in the center. Elder Kashaunta sat on a short chair across a small table from the object of the entire star system's latest obsessions.
The bipedal alien sat in her own chair, which had an odd raised section to support her back. Her clothing was somewhat simple, with black and grey fabric covering her upper torso. He could tell the fabric was high quality—in fact, it was infused with psychic energy.
Her odd face looked a little smushed, and there was a faint red color to her pale skin and two bars of psychic energy thicker than he'd ever seen adorning her cheeks. She appeared unassuming, but her eyes latched onto him with an entrancing glare.
Her scrutiny waved over him, making Pundacrawla smile. Her gray hair fluttered, with a ring of fabric collecting it behind her head to rest on her back. Her fingers were short, without claws of any appreciable size. Her feet were hidden entirely by shoes; he could sense a thick armor.
In the mindscape, she roiled with collected psychic energy, like a promise of action for any slight. Her mind almost looked to have three minds in one, and iron bands of psychic energy encircled it from all sides, even above and below, preventing any quick avenue of mental attack. All in all, she was like an alien Elder when the conceptual energy came into account. She reminded Pundacrawla of an old friend, a secret he kept with Kashaunta that initially had been her leverage over him.
"It is an honor to meet you," Penny said. "You look as impressive as Kashaunta said."
There was no accent. The words flowed from her mouth smoothly, and Kashaunta showed no reaction to the omission of her title. That alone spoke volumes, and Pundacrawla knew he would be showing Penny more respect than most had the privilege to receive.
"I am happy to meet you as well, Penny Balica. Your accomplishments follow your name, and you are also quite impressive."
He settled on a third chair that appeared in front of him. He took a deep breath, his eyes falling on the pair of them.
"Elder Kashaunta has hired me to serve as your lawyer in the Judgment trial," Pundacrawla said. "This requires a great deal of risk to be taken on my part, which has also required that I received advancements."
He drew the word out, causing Penny to raise an eyebrow.
"Advancements?"
"Yes. I would like you to push the Soul Blade toward my left front leg."
Penny drew the sword, her fingers wrapping around the hilt easily. A grip of psychic energy materialized on her hands, and she carefully pressed the tip of it into the place he'd marked.
His skin was pierced. Penny frowned as her weapon went no further. Black blood spilled from the wound, which closed within moments.
"What?"
"These are Type 3 nanites," Pundacrawla said. Black limbs materialized on his back, a second set of arms. And then a third set. They withdrew quickly.
"They also happen to cost a considerable amount of money," Kashaunta said. "Which I have paid, thanks to the added funds your singularities have brought."
"I will tell you not to worry if I am killed in the courtroom. I already have a deal in place with the Collective to ensure, at considerable costs, that I will still survive in some form."
"And killing Pundacrawla is also a declaration of war on the Peoples' Autonomous Stars," Kashaunta added. "You do not stand alone."
"Indeed, I do not," Pundacrawla smiled. He bowed his head toward Penny. "If I may, I would like to start the discussion around the argument for this case."
His implant connected to several devices on his body, manifesting many holographic articles and stories around the room. Penny's 'Liberator' title was printed on half of them in the headline. In others, images and even videos of her in various situations took precedence.
Pundacrawla pulled up an image of Penny kneeling in the rubble of Justicar, holding a dead child. "This is the argument I will make for you."
Penny nodded, her silence confirming that this was the right decision.
"You will be the alien who came to a world named after the concept of justice, and an Elder who bears the same name. I will show how you care for many Sprilnav in your life, and also that you have little motivation to do so purely for the Judgment. I will show you as a loving daughter to a doting father, as a willing partner of Elder Kashaunta, bearer of the Pact of Blades, and as a woman capable of acting with wisdom and grace beyond her years to work with an enemy to sign a truce contract.
I will paint you in as sympathetic a light as possible and will eventually call you as a witness several times. You will need to swear upon your life that you are not lying, and Indrafabar and Justicar will both be capable of detecting your lies, total or partial. If you want to win this case, you will follow my advice without hesitation and without question. Do you understand?"
"I do, Lawyer Pundacrawla."
"You may call me High Lawyer Pundacrawla, or Elder Pundacrawla. With an Eonic degree, I am deserving of this title, and it will remind them of who backs you and who I am."
"I understand."
Pundacrawla took a long moment to organize his thoughts. He removed unnecessary jargon that might be untranslatable. He had the VI program rephrase and dumb down the explanations he needed to say so they would be shorter and easier to understand. Understanding was critical for the early phases of any case, and the client always needed to be ready for what came.
That was Rule 53.
"Now for the second half of the Judgment. The Alliance. They have published a great deal of rhetoric condemning the Sprilnav and the Elders. Yasihaut will first attempt slander using the usual methods. Your species, your barbarity, your lack of being Elders. She will find images of people on social media platforms calling for the deaths of the Sprilnav en mass.
If she desires, she will flood them with this, as the Alliance's population allows for many instances to be located. She may call to past Elders' deaths or to the previous battles with herself and Kashaunta in the earlier history of your nation. But the most likely platform she will use to pose the Alliance as a threat will be the presence of Phoebe, Edu'frec, Brey, and the hivemind of Humanity. The reasons for this are many. I will list several now, with ideal ways to counter them also attached.
Given Yasihaut's personality, she feels that you and the Alliance's continual success is a direct and constant threat to her reputation as an Elder. When you first shamed her, this is what ignited her hatred. Kashaunta has regaled you more on what reputation means to us immortals, but it is a severe concern. Do not underestimate her willingness to regain her reputation and to do so by attempting to defeat you in a public matter.
Here, your physical advantages will be nullified. If you speak out of turn or show signs of resistance, they will be twisted against you and the Alliance. The next reason is that your specific rivalry is personal. It is unique, and the High Judges know this. You are a threat to her, and everyone in that court knows you mean to kill her when the Judgment ends. Do not express your wishes to do this because she may present your threat to her as one to Elders overall. Now, for the Alliance, the fear of AI, unregulated, intelligent, and improving, as Phoebe and Edu'frec both qualify as, is ancient and potent among the Elders.
Across all of history, rogue AI presents the largest threat to our rule, making weapons capable of disabling our ships with merely thousands of years of time to advance. The Alliance has been given leniency on this. But most importantly is the Path. For an AI, approaching technological singularity is a threat to all other beings in existence by the sheer possibilities that it provides. Yasihaut knows this, as do the High Judges. I will aim to prove that Phoebe and Edu'frec do not intend to kill the Elders or go to war with them when they reach singularity.
But this, Penny, will require that Phoebe comes to the stand herself and swears before the court. The Collective will be connected to her and will be capable of detecting the lies in all forms she attempts to tell. This is likely the only way to defeat the arguments Yasihaut presents in that manner. While Phoebe is not allowed to represent you as a lawyer, she is still allowed to be a witness, presumably for exactly this reason. The Collective will also use this as a means to determine Phoebe's progress in weaponry, so I suggest she finds a way to hide those memories well. The next reason Yasihaut will involve the Alliance is because it is visibly divided.
Your leaders bicker and argue, and she will attempt to use this to show you as an unstable power with dangerous ambition. She will use the clashes between your leaders as a way to convince the High Judges that you cannot be trusted, as your lifespans are too short and your minds too alien to remain trustworthy and united in their support of any sort of treaty. She will likely use this to bypass the reality of your truce with Valisada, which the Alliance is not a direct party to. She will discuss the specific threat of Brey in the Alliance. Her ability to use portals makes your nation over fifty times as productive as it would otherwise be.
This makes you an economic threat, coupled with Phoebe. Brey has a historical hatred of the Sprilnav, which also motivates possible military attacks against us. She is also being directly strengthened by the Alliance's psychic amplifiers. I will attempt to stave off this argument by downplaying the threat Brey poses and showing the reality that a Progenitor could kill her instantly.
I am not expecting any specific arguments in this scenario to be effective against the High Judges. This will be a difficult point if Yasihaut exploits it properly. As for the hivemind of Humanity, your threat comes in multiple forms. Firstly, we can confirm you share some power with the hivemind. So if you grow strong, it too will grow strong, and it bends to the will of Humanity as a whole. Polls show that you all, to put it lightly, hate us.
The hivemind also has a direct diplomatic link to the Source and easy access to it via the Servant in the hivemind's city and the city's location itself amidst the Source's bones. Remember that many of us still call the Source the Great Enemy and the Servants the Enemy. Yasihaut will likely attempt to use Rimiaha's presence here to link you as well to the image of the Source, if not the hivemind. If she does this successfully, you will lose the case.
The hatred we have for the Servants is almost bottomless and is only exceeded by that of the Source. Kashaunta has told me that there have been over 30 thousand attempts to kill Rimiaha since he got here, most psychic in nature. All of them have failed due to the intervention of either Justicar, Kashaunta herself, or Rimiaha using his psychic energy to blend in with Sprilnav. Behind the scenes, Kashaunta has destroyed entire mercenary companies in the Underground for this and made deals with Justicar to suppress any mention of this to avoid stirring the fires of war. I will do whatever I can to distance you from Rimiaha.
But if this fails, you must call him to the stand. Make him testify of his lack of willingness to attack the Sprilnav. Indrafabar may request that his mind be invaded to determine the truth about this. If the Source intervenes in that case or Rimiaha refuses, you will also lose the trial. This is the most dangerous idea that Yasihaut could bring against you, which links back to Humanity and you, Penny.
Another reason she has is that if she can push the Judges enough on the Alliance to either level more restrictions or kill the AIs, you will be crippled beyond recovery and will fade into nothingness for her to kill at her leisure. In short, most of this trial hinges on circumstances and testimonies given by witnesses. This is another reason Indrafabar is on the case. He can detect lies in almost any being if he uses his power. And if you resist, which you might be capable of, but..."
"I lose."
"Exactly. This is not a place of honor. This is not a court like before. Arguments will be heard, debated, and either accepted and recorded or discarded and ignored. I will do my best to use Justicar's law principles like recency to your favor, but history is littered with petty Judges making decisions on cases related to how much a threat people are. Not to this level, of course, but there is luckily precendent to lean on in both types of outcomes."
"Pundacrawla, I thank you for your high-level overview. Shall I assume the legal jargon was left out of your description?"
"Yes," he said. "I was uncertain if some words would translate."
"What are my realistic chances for winning this trial?"
Pundacrawla sighed. He didn't want to see her hope shatter, but he refused to lie. Kashaunta seemed fine with him sitting here and talking about things truthfully. If she wasn't, she would have requested a different lawyer.
"In the worst case scenario, which is Indrafabar and Justicar dislike you, and Yasihaut has a lawyer with an Eonic degree of their own, then I would say about 9%."
"That is quite high, actually, for a worst case scenario."
"That is only because this is a Trial by Majority, Kashaunta's backing and all that implies, your friendships with Nilnacrawla, Spentha and Equisa's continued survival within the Alliance, the various political motivations the Judges might have, the fact that you have built up your image, that you have refrained from killing your enemies recently, and the extreme nature of Yasihaut's hatred for you.
Your attack on Tassidonia's court normally would have been the death knell for you. But since your power didn't kill anyone and specifically was weakened to avoid that, it has been a boon more than a curse. And the Sprilnav with bleeding hearts also are pleased with your war on slavery. You will lose that war without Kashuanta's help, but your determination on that is seen as an endearing characteristic."
"Endearing?"
"The Elders think of you as a child, Penny," Kashaunta said. "Your fight against slavery is seen as a childish fantasy, but in a good way. If you wish, Pundacrawla can lean into either your maturity or immaturity on this case. Both may achieve the desired effect, if done right."
"I am not sure about that. Who will watch this trial, and how many?"
"Cast away your ego, Penny, it will not serve you here," Pundacrawla said.
"I'm 76 years old. I can handle this."
"I don't think-"
"200 quintillion," Kashaunta blurted out. Penny flinched.
"What?"
"That is the number of watchers on the channels that have reserved timeslots for the trial among Sprilnav territory."
"And... Elders?"
"35 million, likely including all the Elders with names of any note," Kashaunta said. Pundacrawla gave a worried look to Penny. But the human just took a deep breath and nodded.
"Thank you for telling me. That is manageable."
"You're quite composed about this," Pundacrawla noted.
"I can conceptualize the enormity of that, but also this is a pretty big deal. And if I prove that I am fighting for the common people, it will achieve-"
"Nothing," Kashaunta said. "They cannot rebel on a large enough scale to risk toppling the Elders. If there is one aspect of our system that has survived the rot of a billion years of decay, it is the ability to divide and conquer. This is not an opportunity to get a manifesto out. I warn you against treating it as such."
At first, Penny looked wary of accepting the Elder's advice. She seemed to contemplate that matter, though she was really talking with her adoptive father. But instead of arguing, she simply smiled.
"I understand, Kashaunta. Thank you. I was getting a little sidetracked. All that matters is winning."
"So is there anything I can do to increase my chances?" Penny asked Pundacrawla.
"Outreach. Keep fighting the slavers, and maybe do a few interviews. Make sure to express a lack of hostility toward the Sprilnav people. And be wary of the gangs. When you are in the trial, they may seek revenge upon the freed slaves, or upon you yourself. I would not be surprised if they did their best to conduct false flag attacks under your name. In high-profile trials like this with many enemies, that risk is high. The gangs have high numbers of personnel and a motivation to see you lose this trial before you destroy them."
"I see. Thank you, High Lawyer Pundacrawla," Penny said, lowering her head in an approximation of a bow. Kashaunta nodded but didn't say anything. Penny took another breath in, and Pundacrawla could feel the air currents entering her nostrils.
"Can you explain exactly how a Trial by Majority would work versus the previous sort of Judgment?"
"Previously, the Judges, led by a High Judge, had to agree on a verdict. In that case, they failed. This structure is more flexible, however. All the Judges on the court, or the High Judges in this case, may voice their opinions behind closed doors and attempt to come to a verdict. They will emerge when the agreed-upon time period has passed, and their decisions will be made public.
If one Judge disagrees, there will not be a mistrial. Instead, the verdict with the most Judges behind it, ideally the majority opinion, will be the one chosen. This Judgement will have 20 High Judges. The final verdict, if none can reach the required 11 Judges to pass, will simply be held once all remaining evidence is heard or discarded."
"Held?"
"The High Judges will be required to resolve the dispute. If there are three or more options, the one or multiple with the fewest High Judges backing it will be discarded, until a runoff occurs. The result will then determine the verdict given."
"Can I be acquitted of the charges if that is the majority opinion?"
"Yes, you can. So can the Alliance. The structure of this Judgment is such that Indrafabar and Justicar will counterbalance each other."
"Can't Indrafabar just offer them money to do what he wants?"
"If he wants to lose his licence, severely harm his reputation, and destroy the careers of the High Judges being bribed, sure. While obviously Justicar will not have the power to truly punish him, the consequences would be severe, to say nothing of the other Progenitors. Given the factions present within them, it would be quite unwise for him to influence the case in such a manner. That influence would not be accepted by all."
"What if Yasihaut makes them an offer they can't refuse, or tries to make it look like Kashaunta did to get me in trouble?"
"I have taken steps to prevent that second outcome," Kashaunta said. "As for the first, my spies within Yasihaut's groups will alert me of it, and Justicar will know."
"But if he is a High Judge, wouldn't that be a conflict of interest?"
"His institutions function properly even without his intervention," Kashaunta replied. "There is little risk of that on his part."
"Hmm. Kashaunta, should I hide the Pact of Blades until the trial?"
"Yes. Its shock value will be maximum at that point."
"Elder Pundacrawla, are the rules on decorum the same as before?"
"Yes, but this time there will be proper enforcement. With the galaxy's eyes on him, Justicar will have no choice but to be firm in this trial. He will not be lenient to either of you, and might punish you more for infractions given that you are not a Sprilnav. It is unfair, but it is in his best interest to please the Elders who will be viewing this trial."
"Kashaunta, is there a way I can help you with the politics around this trial?" Penny asked. "I know if the event is this big, there is a lot for you to do, either to gain or to lose."
"A thoughtful offer. I might require one more linear singularity, and to finally get a piece of that negative energy you promised me. If you could tune your rhetoric toward peace with the Elders, it would help my position massively. The Alliance has already started scrubbing anti-Sprilnav rhetoric from its networks after I discussed the damage they could do, so what remains is your opinions. After the Judgment, more eyes will be on you than before. Declare your continued anti-slavery position, and I will have an easier time helping you with less damage to my reputation due to the revealed Pact of Blades."
"Do you also have an entourage of Elders to back you through thick and thin?" Penny asked. Pundacrawla smiled, glad that she was concerned about helping Elder Kashaunta.
She didn't know it, but now Pundacrawla was fully resolved to help her case. He'd been properly convinced that she really did care for her friends. In this case, while she likely was conflicted about it, Kashaunta was her friend. Given the Pact of Blades was in place between them, they were lifelong friends, close enough to be effectively married.
The political meaning of the Pact was certainly closer to that side of it since its most common use was to unify powerful Elder families. Kashaunta didn't have a family name, but that was because her name already carried so much weight everyone knew who was related to her. Pundacrawla gave Kashaunta a list of additional actions Phoebe needed to take using his implant. Kashaunta's eyes sparkled with recognition, though Penny didn't seem to notice.
"I do," Kashaunta said. "They all work for me. Most of them I acquired through either mud diving or through owed favors, though."
"Mud diving?" Penny asked.
"It is a term for doing one's utmost to please a superior for personal benefit, even if the 'please' section is derived from an unfortunate root meaning."
"I see. Elder Pundacrawla, can you get me something I can use for personal communication to you and Kashaunta, like an implant but less invasive?"
"Yes, I can do that," he responded.
"And also, one more thing before we go. Displace."
Penny appeared right in front of him, crouching down so her eyes aligned perfectly with his. They crackled with psychic energy, but beneath them lay a guarded desperation that he recognized from many of his more unfortunate past clients.
"I will not threaten you right now. But I need you to understand what is at stake for me. My friends. My family. My species. My nation. Over 200 billion living, breathing souls with lives and dreams they struggle every day to inch closer to. My titles, Champion of Humanity and Liberator, do not describe what I am but who I am. My world, my people. My home. Everything I have ever known and everything I have ever loved is at stake. Maybe you know what that is like. Maybe you don't.
Either way, please, I beg you to do your best to save us. I'm relying on you to be my hero, Pundacrawla. You can do this, and you must, or I will die for nothing. You will live with the consequences of this Judgment for the rest of your life. I hope you are everything Kashaunta claims you to be and more.
Hundreds of billions of people are counting on you. Look me in the eyes, Pundacrawla. Take in my alien face and my alien features. Know the creature standing here, and tell her you will do everything you can to save her and her people. And if it comes down to choosing to save me or the Alliance, save the Alliance."
Pundacrawla let out a breath. The hot air flowed across Penny's face, moving alien hair strands to the side. He looked into her eyes, peering into the reflection of three beings inside of her.
"Penny Balica. Champion of Humanity. Liberator. Human. I, Pundacrawla, High Lawyer, Elder, and Sprilnav, promise you, with all of my heart, all of my mind, and all of my soul, that I will do my best to win this Judgment for you and your kin. My actions will speak even louder than my words to you."

I would say that overall, today was pretty tough.
I saw in that movie called trainspotting a little excerpt about how when recovering from an addiction something that is unspoken is that feeling of depression. Like nothing really excites you, you don't really look forward to much, nothing.
I find this to really ring true, especially today for some reason. But for me its mainly the OCD stuff. day after day im living with a sense of fear, without any possibility for the "answer" that my brain is seeking. So its this constant sense of uncertainty without really any relief. Back when I would "use" so to speak, in my waking existence of this reality there was always a great escape. I would just plunge into indulgence and dopamine would flood my brain and for those hours I felt as if I didn't really exist, like I was someplace else.
So it makes sense as to why I'd feel depressed. My "answer" to the ghost of fear that follows me around is taken away. And with the days passing on and the novelty of recovery gone, you're simply faced with the uncertainty of life.
While this may seem sad, I feel that in tandem with what I said now is a good time to take a deep dive into the depth of my addiction at its worse, and why I would feel as If something essential to me is missing. After all, its what my brain was taught.
To start off, when I see accounts of other pornography type addictions, most of the time, these are trivial to me. It's almost notable how far my addiction went, until it isn't. because the people on the communities I would use in would be just as frequent as me, with their hours just as long. Showing that this is a silent epidemic that is exclusively a consequence of the 21st century. For now its clinically called "cybersex addiction". But in my opinion their needs to be a term created that sounds more medicinal. Cybersex sounds a little corny and a tad sci-fi, and with my recount and the habits of others in the community, I'm sure in 20 years or so it will be observed as something a bit more serious and given a name to fit it. But for now with its current term its a tad difficult to take it seriously. If I was to tell someone I suffered for years from a cybersex addiction they'd probably find it a bit humorous. But I digress.
I would say that it started when I was about 15 years old, give or take. I had always liked porn. Loved porn even. I remember when I discovered it at 12 years old, and how good it made me feel. I watched it close to every night and would masturbate. But the feelings that I specifically liked were the videos that displayed power, and control. Absolutely nothing romantic. Stealing someone's girlfriend, making someone's spouse pleasure you for a favor, making a stepsibling "do as their told". Those kinda things. Specifically cheating. There was something so arousing to me about making someone elses significant other have sex with you. The power trip felt to primal and dirty. This was at 12-13 years old.
However, despite my habit, I feel as if I was still normal. I subconsciously suspended a sense of disbelief. The prospect of just having a girlfriend and having sex still very much excited me. My member still worked perfectly fine. And when I would watch porn I would just rub one out and be done with it. 15 minutes tops, typically more around 5. And then id move on with my day.
I remember when I first discovered a sex chat room. I believe I was 14 years old. At that time i had it on a family computer, so I couldn't take it very far. But i remember how excited I felt, that jumping in my chest when matched up with someone I would talk about sex with. But i wouldnt be able to touch myself, as I was in the living room.
It was at the back end of that year when I'd get on the site again. At this point I had purchased a smart phone and could use it in privacy. I will never forget that night in which I was hooked. I was on the couch, as I used to sleep there in a living room. This was different from the different aforementioned living room, as I had a lot of places growing up. I never had much of a home, and it was pretty troubled. But thats a topic for another day.
I matched up with someone on that same site. They were, or most likely roleplaying, as someone's wife. Sneaking around. I remember when I discovered that in the conversation my heart felt like it jumped out of my chest. I remember moving the conversation towards soemething sexual, and "she" naturally played her part and went along. I remember getting demanding, giving orders. "she" acted reluctant but "caved". I remember getting a euphoric sexual high. 14 years old, I was hooked.
It ebbed and flowed over the years, and came and went. But when it got really bad is after the onset of my adulthood OCD, at around 17
(People with OCD have it fully set in at some point during early adulthood, with episodes throughout childhood)
When my mental illness struggles started I felt as though my life was a waking nightmare. I just did not understand nonresponse at the time, and it felt as though my reality caved and inverted. I could not have a moment without rumination and did not understand there was nothing to solve. I just didn't understand. so I was merely a zombie, like some kind of ghoul. I was pretending to be alive. Floating moment to moment, phoning it in. My family didnt understand why I was so distant. Why i had no aspirations or anything. It made my father so angry he would beat me. The beating and what not got so bad that at 18 I split home. I was in and out after that.
Some time passed and I bummed around but I got to a point where I lived by myself and had roommates.
Throughout this era there was one constant. The internet pornography use. The "cybersex". at the end of every fruitless day I would get on, and it would be hours. I had multiple accounts, on multiple forums. Many fetish based. I would get desperate sometimes and would get spammy, clawing for a good partner that matched my interests, and would often get banned. So many times I would have accounts i would switch back in forth from to avoid getting banned. I was a full blown addict.
Snap forwards a couple years, where my addiction and mental illness had fully taken over. I had no job, I would never be able to hold one down. I was hemorrhaging money, my savings from my teenage hood. I would Doordash and do gig work on occasion but would give up if my OCD got too loud. Or if I had plans but started using f*ck those plans.
I would wake up at 11 or so. maybe noon, maybe 1. id get up and use the restroom, throw my clothes on the floor. My room was completely rotted away. I would go downstairs and chat with my roommates. maybe go grab lunch or something. then I'd get home and start using. typically, by 3 o clock. It would be hours, masturbating, binge watching porn, being on the forums. Finding partners that matched me and saying things that were unspeakibly nasty to get a good rush. Hours and hours would pass by and I would prevent ejaculation. i did not want the escape to end, but eventually it would. I would excrete all over myself and by matress with no bedding (I would not put my sheets on my bed, as i just simply did not care). I would not clean up much, would mostly just let it dry. After that I would watch some youtube. I would not get out of my bed, or shower, or anything like that. These things did not not concern me. At around 10 or so I would start up again. Using and using and using and using. typically till about 4 in the morning. Then id c*m, and Id go downstairs to stuff my face with whatever I had in the fridge. Then Id go back into my room, and with the rush of my vice gone and the fear from OCD quelled by it, Id feel unspeakably sad. Unspeakably empty. then id go to sleep.
Sometimes it was from the moment I woke up. I'd wake up, stare at my ceiling, my anxiety would settle in, and I'd start using. I'd use till 2 and then take a nap. Then id use till 4. Then I'd use till 8. Then id use till 2 am.
I remember my member would be red and blistered, sensitive to the touch, and unable to get an erection. But id keep using. Id go again and again, rubbing it while it was limp. My room stunk like hell and I was gaining weight. My hair was greasy and i was running out of money. I was literally just fading away.
Heres my great ability though. My friends just thought I was a tad unhygienic and lazy. They didn't suspect a thing. Because no matter what, I'm always a showman. I can always say something to crack up the group or become an inside joke. I was literally a dead man walking yet people considered me funny and capable. But the curtain got pulled on that eventually.
Well, more on that some other day. This recount served its purpose for me in putting in my perspective on what I am not anymore. And no matter how hard it gets, making sure I never go back again.
Fucking hell man. Why's this shit gotta be so hard.
See yall tomorrow.

Alright! Look, listen…this here story is somethin’ I’m not too keen on sharin’, mainly because I ain’t got too much to say about it all but, also, because it’s more a flashback of something from my ravaged brain. Due to it being from my ravaged brain, I ain’t to certain it’s a real memory or something implanted to make me a more sympathetic type person. Either way, if you ask me to explain who I am, it might start like this: A long, long time ago…
18 years ago…
The icy clash of shattered glass mixed with the shrill scream of twisting metal as the crushing weight of the cylinder bared down on the old car. First, its hood crunched down to pop the headlights, and to make the fenders press and slice into the tires, tires already flattened by time and now made completely useless. Then the windshield crackled and the cabin crumpled. One rear tire still inflated suddenly deflated as the load of weight popped the sidewall to release a long, loud hiss. The rest of the car’s windows were missing already and, as the conveyor fed the last of the junkheap in the crusher, Alex looked on in satisfaction.
“Didn’t think we’d get that pile finished before sundown!” Alex said as he reached up to pull off his hat and wipe sweat from his brow. As he let his foot off from one actuator on the ground and, also, he let go of a large handle that sprung back into place. As he did so, the large crusher came to a slow grinding stop. When the glass settled and all was quiet, he pulled off his gloves and breathed a sigh of relief.
“You want me to get the truck?” Little Alex, his young daughter asked, her high voice came from behind to surprise her father.
He turned around with a jump. “What in the?!” He was startled, not just by his little girl, but by the fact that she was in the wrecking yard at all. “Who let you back you here?” he looked around before looking to his girl. “You know you’re not supposed be back here, LA.”
The little long-haired brunette did not shy away as she used her thumb to point over her shoulder, back at the door. “Mom said I’m big enough to be back here,” she smirked.
“Listen…” he knelt down to her, eye to eye and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “Where the truck is at…” he nodded in that direction, over her shoulder, but was careful to keep eye contact. “And…out around the side-yard with Butch and Cassidy…yes…you’re big enough to be back there. But, look,” he pointed to a sign that said ‘Hardhat Area.’ “Signs like that are important and you need to pay attention to things like them.” He stood and took off his hard hat and looked at it as he continued. “LA, when your mom or I say the phrase ‘back there…’ well, it’s what we say when we go behind the office…it makes things easy for the customers to understand. But, you’re old enough to know the difference now, so, let me show you something.” He took the hardhat and placed it on little Alex’s little head. “First thing’s first: you’re gonna’ need one of these.”
“Are we going to get the truck?”
“Not just yet. You need to learn about the signs of danger back here.”
Only a few minutes had passed before the two found themselves standing at the back door entrance to the office. LA could hear her mom faintly talking with a customer up front, and started to reach for the doorknob, but Alex spoke up to say, “Hey, take a look at this.” LA stopped and turned to look. There, covered in years of grime and smudged with all manner of grease and oil, an assortment of signs had been nailed to the wall, adjacent to the threshold. “Have you ever noticed these before?” he looked to LA as she scanned the signs and slowly nodded. “Have you figured out what they mean?” Again, he watched her slowly nod. “Okay…” he raised his head in curiosity and pointed to a Hardhat sign, one that resembled what he had pointed out earlier near the crusher. It did not have any of the wording, it only had a little black figure of a man with a bright yellow hardhat, all surrounded by a thick bright-red circle. It did not click with LA, and Alex could see that. “Here, let me give you a hint.” He reached out and took the hardhat from her head and put in on his own, making sure to take a step sideways, just right enough to be in the same view of the sign so that LA could visually compare them.
She gasped with realization and a smile. “You need a hard hat!”
“That’s right!” Alex said excitedly as he bent down, grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up into his arms. Even being nine, LA felt as light as a leaf in Alex’s muscled arms and, with one arm, he held her close as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was about to point to the sign about needing to wear gloves in the back but, just then, he caught the scent of something unwelcome and, with his free hand he pointed to another sign. “What’s this one mean?” He asked as he scanned the area.
LA looked at it with concentration on her face.
The sign had what she knew to be a cigarette on it with a huge red circle that crossed through the cigarette. She crooked her head in slight recognition and pointed at it, “I’ve seen that at the diner, but…”
Alex found what he was looking for, and, with a smile and raised brow, he nodded. “That’s right. Do you know what it means though?” Trying not to break LA’s focus, Alex wiggled off the glove of his free hand and began snapping his fingers towards Jim, a man standing towards the back of the room.
As Jim looked up, a cigarette dangling from his lips, Alex’s face became stern as he discreetly motioned about the cigarette.
LA thought about it and, finally, shook her head to make her pony tail lightly whip and tickle against Alex’s neck, bringing his attention back. “What’s it means, dad?”
“It means No Smoking,” he said just loud enough for Jim to hear, looking at him one more time. “Cigarettes are bad for many reasons but, back here, they can set things on fire.” He watched as Jim, dejected, snuffed out the little fire-starter. He looked back to LA, then, the sign and pointed out a couple more items. “There’s lots of things back here that can hurt you. Corrosive stuff. Electrical things…you remember what happened in Robocop 2, when Murphy grabbed that electrical box?”
LA’s eyes went wide. “His name was Alex, too!”
Alex let loose a roaring laugh. “Yes! But you’re missing my point…remember how he got fried?”
LA nodded with her eyes growing even wider.
“Well…I don’t want THIS Alex fried!” He bopped her on the nose with his index finger. “You understand?”
With a giggle and a smile, LA gave a short little nod.
Hoping she understood, Alex turned to make sure Jim had really put his cig out but found no sign of the man. He set LA down, turned and opened the door and, in an instant, he saw the orange flick of firelight flash up. Not wanting to hurt LA, but it was all he could think to do in such a short time, he kicked her in the butt to send her sailing up the hall.
LA tumbled to the floor as thunder and orange light slammed the door closed behind her, throwing off the Employees Only sign that skipped across the floor to a stop at LA’s feet.
Present day…
When I woke up, the Crossout was well underway but enough about me, that’s a story for another time…right now, we need to get to the real story of things.
It all started when…

When Quicktalon finally woke up, his heart leaped to his throat as he noticed that the sun was beginning to set. A gruff voice chuckled to his alarm before he could act on his sudden panic, “Sit down, you crazy ostrich. You’re fine. Achira has been taken care of, the fire lit, and your dinner is near the fire to keep warm.” Quicktalon froze at the new voice, slowly turning towards the owner of this new visitor, but his eyes seemed to have been playing tricks on him. His brother Fleet was nearby and changing his sister’s bandages.
“Fleet?” he asked softly, his eyes still wide at seeing his battle-scarred brother. “H-how are you here?! The search party for the missing Drakes and Dragons left months ago!” he exclaimed, a grin growing as happy tears began to warm his eyes. It had been far too long since he had last seen his brother. “Well, we were on our way back from the most northern searches, and we found a few traces of what could have happened, but we need to send out another search party after we Rest and replenish our supplies. But I have heard the great news!” Fleet said as he hugged his brother, “ I’m so proud of you!” He exclaimed, pulling his brother into a hug, “I can’t believe you’ve grown so much from that little drake who never left our grandmother's side and always got into scrapes from running too fast.” He laughed softly.
Quicktalon chuckled at his brother’s lighthearted jesting, “ Grandmother always made healing fun and exciting, and I wanted to be able to follow in her talon steps and help those who helped us when we were little drakelings.” He said with a smile, “But now, I have a chance to truly save dragonkind from this dangerous threat, hopefully with getting this information out to the world and traveling to Scholar’s Whispering Peak, I can also get more information on what happened to our Grandmother and hopefully what had happened to our parents all those years ago.”
A smile ghosted Fleet's lips. He knew that something had happened to his grandmother; they had the signs and were Grandmother her. But the more his troop searched, and the more evidence was uncovered, the more serious this strange tail became. He hadn’t mentioned it yet to their pack leader. Still, Drakes across the savanna were going missing, some dragons and even the notoriously hidden Arctic dragons.
Dozens of Dragons of all kinds were going missing. The Sea Orcs were the only ones who witnessed this strange occurrence. They were too big for anything to happen to them, but the cause of the disappearing dragons needed to be uncovered and solved before the giant sea dragons began to disappear. But Fleet couldn’t ruin his brother’s excitement and joy over this. So, for now, he kept quiet and continued praising his brother for his magnificent discovery.
“I need to start getting ready. I’ve got a big trip ahead of me. I need to pack plenty of supplies and ensure I have enough to trade for a thick fur cover to protect me from the freezing temperatures at the summit of the Scholars Whispering Peak.” Quicktalon said, “I can’t wait to be able to spend more time with you and Achira as soon as she fully recovers from the effects of the viper.” He explained with a soft chuckle, “ but I will be back soon, hopefully before winter settles over the lands, which, with it being the middle of New Life, I should have time to make it to the coast and get assistance through the ocean and onto the nearest coastline on the other side.”
Fleet looked concerned at the plan his brother had just explained. " Are you sure that is safe? I’ve met traveling Sea Orcs and been told how long and perilous a journey across the sea can be for Drakes and Dragons of our size!” Fleet explained fear etched deep into his face as he couldn’t imagine his little brother in the middle of a raging and violent sea. “ It would be better to travel on land. You’d get there much safer and without the risk of your research getting ruined from the sea's moisture.”
Quicktalon took a moment to consider. Is a trip like that more manageable? Would it be safer to traverse land rather than sea? “Are there any maps I can get? Can you help me figure out a quick and safe journey from our home to the Scholars Whispering Peak? If the sea is too dangerous, I will need to figure out a different way to get to the scholars and hopefully get there before the snow season starts.” He said, “Do you know if the pack to our North sells maps of the continent and trade routes I could follow?” He asked while moving to a chest with chunks of gold and jewels he could trade for a map. He even wrote quick instructions for effectively healing and removing the venom from the bite of an Orid Viper. Fleet watched as his brother gathered enough items for trade; each pack had different trade requirements depending on the situation and status.
“Do you remember what they ask for trade?” Quicktalon asked as he set his collected gems and precious metals into a small side pouch strapped to his front right upper forearm. Fleet thought momentarily and tried to remember when his troop had last passed through the pack to the North. “ I believe they take both jewels and food, so we might want to stop and catch something for them to eat on our way over to the North Pack,” Fleet said as he sharpened his dull talons on a nearby rock, “ a water buffalo perhaps would be a good trade-off.” He said, “with the upcoming heat wave, they might appreciate more food for their youngins.”
“Then it's settled. Let's head to the North Pack and trade for a map for a trade route to Scholars Whispering Peak.” Quicktalon said, ensuring his research was set somewhere safe and out of the way of any potential spills or papyrus-eating worms. “Let’s go. The hottest part of the day is over for now, and the animals should be coming back from mid-day hibernation so we can snag a water buffalo on the way to them,” Quicktalon said while moving to give his sister healing wound a quick check-over. Once everything was in good shape, Quicktalon and Fleet left the medical hut. They began their journey to the North Pack and hopefully snagged a water buffalo on the way toward their destination.
Both brothers carefully left the medical hut and began looking around Earthquake to tell him where they were heading and their plan for QuickTalon to get to the Scholars Whispering peaks before winter hit. It wasn’t too hard to find the elder drake, as he was once again leading the younger drakes in battle practice for the potential war that seemed to be whispering on the horizon. “WATCH YOUR TALONS! FOR MOTHER DRAKE’S SAKE HEATSTROKE, DUCK! USE YOUR FIRE!” Earthquake shouted, drilling the almost grown drakes in new and much faster battle techniques. “Things must be getting worse if Earthquake is so worried about what’s been happening. It worries me.” Fleet murmured to QuickTalon, fear and worry evident on his face as he watched the young drakes practice their battle maneuvers as if they were currently fighting the actual enemy.
The mock battle went on for what felt like an eternity before Earthquake called for the young drakes to take a break and get a drink of water. “ Freshen up! Get a drink and take a moment to breathe! You must keep practicing if we ever need to go to war against this new and unknown enemy!” He commanded while walking over to see what QuickTalon and Fleet wanted to discuss. “ Welcome back, Fleet, and I’m happy to see that your search troop all came back with no casualties.” He said in greeting, “But what can I do for you both? I can see that there is something you both wish to tell me.” He said while peering down his snout at the younger of the group, “We plan to head to the northern pack and trade something of value for a trade route map to the Scholars Whispering Peaks. The initial route is dangerous, and the humid air could ruin my research.” QuickTalon explained, “With the scorching season rolling in, we thought bringing a water buffalo to trade for a map would be helpful.”
Earthquake seemed impressed by the current plan, “ while that is a good idea, the Northern Pack have been plagued recently by attacks from humans, or at least what seems to be left of that species; if you want to help, I’m sure food, water and medical attention will benefit them most.” He explained, “ but you both have my permission to go to the Northern Pack, just come back here, and I’ll help get you an assistant to stand in your place as a healer until your return.” Earthquake said, a smile gently ghosting across his snout, “now go on little ones, the sun is getting ready to set, and the water buffalo will be out to graze and drink at the nearby watering holes.” “Yes, sir, we will be back within three days,” QuickTalon said with a nod as he and his brother were dismissed and permitted to head off toward the Northern Pack.
With the dry dirt and plants crunching under their talons, QuickTalon turned and followed Fleet toward the Northern pack. “If humans are attacking them, what should we do if we see one?” QuickTalon asked after a long pause in the conversation, “Well,” Fleet started as if trying to recall a memory, “ my commander said that if you see a human, to kill on sight. While most humans are not dangerous to us as adults, they still threaten our young and elderly.” He explained, “Although I have yet to see a human, I have heard conflicting reports and statements about humans. Some are nice and have been seen helping others and the environment we live in, and some are on constant paths of destruction, burning, and taking like the worst of us dragons. Filled with greed and the never-ending satisfaction that they will never have enough stuff to put into their horde, they kill everything on their path to get what they want.”
QuickTalon’s eyes widened in both fascination and absolute horror at what he was hearing, and he had never realized that something so small and without fire or claws or just something to defend itself could be so destructive. “ But, is there a way to tell which ones are good and bad? Surely all of them can’t be rotten, can they?” He asked, jumping in fright when a breaking twig cracked nearby. “I’m sure there is, but for now, we’ve been told to just kill on sight.” He said softly, “ I know you want to help save the world, but you must remember, QuickTalon, that not everyone can or wants to be saved. You will need to know when to save yourself, and don’t let those who want to drown pull you under with them.” He said, eyes staring off into the distance, seeming to be looking at or hearing something out in the distance that only he could see. Quicktalon wasn’t sure how to respond to his brother’s worries. He was worried that his brother might know something more about this dangerous situation than he did, but he knew that he needed to keep his head clear and his eyes forward during this difficult time. “Brother, I know you are worried and want to find Grandmother, but spiraling off into the unknowns and the shadows will not help us find her. I believe in you and the others, but you need to take a breath and remind yourself where you are and your focus.” Quicktalon said, listening intensely to his surroundings while following his brother North. “ We will find Grandmother and the other missing Drakes, but for now, we need to rest our worried minds to start with a clean slate in the morning. If we let our brains become muddled, we could miss important details. So for now, let's just rest our heads and worry about finding a water buffalo and getting a map.”
Fleet sighed deeply, “You’re right, brother. Worrying about all the what-ifs has been muddling my mind. I’ve been so stressed over all of the potential possibilities I have lost the main focus of my mission. To bring the lost and the missing home.” He said, shaking his head ever so slightly as if trying to clear his head from the dark thoughts that had muddled his brain for many years. “ But I agree, let us get that water buffalo and trade for the map. Once we return and rest, my troop and I will follow you to the first trading post and head toward the North. Perhaps we might meet again on your journey.” Fleet hummed softly before snapping his gaze towards the direction of something he had heard. “Shh, I hear something!” He whispered while dropping into a low crouch and moving almost silently through the tall brush and grass toward the sound he had heard.
Quicktalon did the same and followed his brothers' movements. The grass hissed and crunched softly under their talons as they approached the top of a small hill. With careful movements, the brothers peered over the hill. The water buffalo migration had begun, and thousands of bison were resting around the large pond. “ The migration.” Quicktalon murmured, “Would it hurt if we managed to grab a few bison for the Northern pack?” He asked, “ I don’t know how many drakes are in the Northern Pack, but with the hot season approaching, maybe it would help to bring them a few bison to preserve before the migration leaves?” He asked if he knew they needed to preserve the circle of life, but he had no idea what the status of this other pack could be since it had been at least forty years since he had last seen the pack at the semi-annual Drake packs meet-up.
“Perhaps, although I don’t want to end up overwhelming the Northern pack with food. But I agree, with the scorching season approaching, packs will need as much food as possible.” Fleet murmured while slowly dropping into a hunter's crouch, “ I will go for the two deep in the water. You grab the one heading out.” He instructed, to which Quicktalon agreed. He adjusted his satchel and ensured his research was safe before waiting for his brother's signal. With a hiss, Fleet shot over the hill, running as fast as he found towards the two water buffalo in the water. Grunts, groans, and high-pitched bellows filled the air as the water buffalo panicked and ran away from the large drakes.
Thunderous hooves and cries filled the air as the buffalo pushed and shoved into each other while fighting to escape the predators. Quicktalon narrowed his eyes, planted all four talons to the ground, and lunged at the water buffalo. The bison bellowed in fear and swung its head, trying to gore Quicktalon with its horns, but with a sharp turn of his body, he narrowly managed to avoid the deadly horn and sink his teeth into the back of the buffalo’s neck. The buffalo’s wails increased before being silenced with a loud crack, its body falling limp in Quicktalon’s jaws and its head rolling loosely. Loud splashing drew the younger drakes' attention; the second water buffalo ganged up on his brother. With a roar of anger, Quicktalon dropped his fresh kill and thundered through the water toward the second buffalo. The second buffalo barely had time to react before Quicktalon threw himself on the bison’s back and began pulling on its horns to steer it away from his brother.
The bison bellowed angrily and bucked as hard as possible, trying to throw the younger drake off. But Quicktalon held on tight, and with an angry snarl, he gripped the horns tightly in his talons, and with a harsh twist and a loud snap, the bison’s neck was broken. The bison collapsed into the water with a splash. Quicktalon was breathing hard as he tried to catch his breath after such a stressful moment. Fleet growled as he finally managed to take down his water buffalo, “ Fleet, are you okay?” Quicktalon asked, moving through the water, the muddled water sloshing around his talons.
“ I—I’m okay, I just… need to catch my breath.” Fleet panted as he caught his breath. I don’t know why that was so difficult. It shouldn’t have been.” He panted while pushing himself up and moving to collect the two limp water bison. “Let’s get these to the North Pack. We are almost there.” He said while letting Quicktalon assist him with lifting the two freshly killed bison onto his back. “Alright, but as soon as you need to take a break, let me know,” Quicktalon said as he walked over to the water buffalo he killed and hoisted it onto his back.
Fleet nodded in agreement, and the two began the final leg of their trek toward the Northern pack. Crickets began to chirp and sing as the sun set, lighting the sky in a brilliant mixture of pinks, reds, and oranges. Quicktalon smiled, stared at the beautiful sky, and grew even more excited when the fireflies lit up and danced around the land. “ You’ve always enjoyed this time of year, haven’t you?” Fleet asked with a smile, “ I do. The beautiful sunsets, the lightning bugs, and the soft songs of crickets. It always brings me joy.” Quicktalon replied with a happy smile in return. “Whenever I am scared, I think of nights like this to help calm me down.” He explained with a soft chuckle, “Grandmother even painted me a painting of one of these nights. I still treasure that painting the most.” He said, reminiscing about when his grandmother gifted him the painting of his favorite sunset.
“We will find her, Quicktalon, I promise,” Fleet said as he gently shouldered his brother with a soft sigh. “ I know, Fleet, but I’m still worried. She vanished without a trace.” He said softly, shifting the weight of water buffalo on his back to accommodate for the extra weight. “ I believe you brother, but, I still cant’t believe that someone or something like this could have happened.” He murmured, “although I do hope that we can figure out what has happened and we can bring our grandmother home.” Quicktalon said as he tried to enjoy his favorite evening.
Fleet nodded, “ well, we are almost to the Northern Pack, hopefully they have something that can help.” He said, nodding his head towards the approaching lights in the distance, “ good, hopefully they can help.” Quicktalon sighed before a set of drakes in heavy armor thundered towards them, anger written on their faces. “HALT!” One of the guards roared. “W-whats going on?” Quicktalons asked, unsure of why the guards were so angry. “ Your grandmother and her pack of drakes destroyed our village!”

POINTS 2 and 3 ALSO PROVE POINT 1 - ROARING KITTY IS EXITING HIS POSITION AND MOVING ON WITH HIS LIFE BECAUSE THIS UPCOMING RUN-UP WILL BE SIGNIFICANT ENOUGH FOR HIM TO DO SO.
I know, I know.
This is FUD (to some of you). I'm a shill for even thinking this.
Shills get paid to spread FUD. I'm a GME hodler since January 2021 and certainly have NOT financially profited from my GME investment, or anything related to it, in any way, shape or form.
If you are a rational person, and are curious as to why I think the way I do, please read the following arguments for my title theses.

1. Giant run-up for GME incoming:

There are way too many factors lining up over the next two weeks for GME not to run hard. RK re-appeared to let us know that's what exactly what is about to happen. His clips do not explain why. Just that it will. I submit that it will for the following reasons:
a) TA shows evidence of several trend breakouts (Dorito of doom being one) that have been sustained above the upper resistance. Price climb could be from institutional buying (Renaissance Technologies), some short positions closing, but it's unclear.
b) Volume steadily increasing over the past month, along with a steady rise in price. (Lean forward)
c) A HUGE pile of swaps is expiring (see Peruvian Bull on X) AT THE SAME TIME THE CAT regulations are kicking in. The CAT (Consolidated Audit Trail ) system will find naked short positions and hopefully force those who hold those naked positions to close or face regulatory takeover: Non-compliant trades maybe be treated as fraudulent/synthetic. The SIPC could take over failing firms. https://www.sipc.org/for-investors/introduction
https://preview.redd.it/c31nc3g48i1d1.jpg?width=904&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6c77b6f7ced0495ff2ee89f2684f588b2d9147e5
Happy CAT day! (Love to u/avocado-in-my-anus)
d) AT the SAME TIME as above, T+1 comes into effect. Shit's gonna go down FAST.
e) GME shelf offering - same type of offering as just before the sneeze, except 9 TIMES MORE SHARES than last time. WHY? BIGGER PRICE ACTION. RC isn't diluting for the sake of it, you moron: he plays by the rules and ensuring the coming price action builds the company's war chest for the years to come.
So, if you're holding GME, you're gonna be excited even more over the next few weeks (as also indicated by DFV's clips - NO FIGHTING)
2) DFV will be exiting his GME positions during this upward price action.
In the Bourne Identity clip, where Jason Bourne TAKES THE ROUTE MARKED EXIT STRATEGY (en Francais) RK is indicating VERY CLEARLY he now intends to exit. Then, he parks and walks out of the vehicle a transformed person, no longer Matt Damon but now Ryan Gosling - donning a cap to cover his identity.
So many people have all kinds of interpretations of this clip, without ever stating the most obvious one, because it kinda hurts: Roaring Kitty is now planning his exit strategy, is going to take it, and will hide his identity going forward in his life. WHY? Because he's practically a celebrity at this point and will wind up being that much richer than he already is.
If he has any hope at leading a normal life after this, he will need to make his exit and disappear. Mind you, he would not exit unless he stands to make SIGNIFICANT GAINS from historic upward price movement.
If and when he does exit and move on, as I believe he has indicated, all I can say is good luck brother, I wish you all the best - may you find the joy and peace you deserve.
Side note: Notice I didn't say "during the MOASS". I'm not sure if the fabled MOASS will happen the way we've been lead to believe. Yes, infinite risk and all that...
Realistically, too many 3-letter organizations have way too much sway over everything to allow for the destruction of key financial entities as has been described.
Our RCEO plays by the rules. RC isn't out to destroy anything. He's out to build. RC agreed to an interview - after having turned down SO MANY OFFERS FROM OTHERS - with GMEdd ... they do not agree with the MOASS thesis.
Yes, the price will go up fantastically - but after seeing what has happened over the last 3 years, how 80$ is talked about being a high price point when fucking CHIPOTLE trades in the fucking thousands... I just don't see phone numbers being a realistic thing. I could be wrong, we'll see.
3) No more Roaring Kitty, just a wealthy Keith Gill.
Finally, the E.T. clip. He leaves us for the Green planet.
Obvious, this. A clear interpretation is the obvious one. Occam's Razor. Convoluted interpretations belong in the same ranks as the crypto scammers who abuse the RK 'brand'.
I understand the desire to believe that this was somehow the 'start', that running the clips backwards will somehow have RK continuing as he has ... a theory that suits our feelings. I accept that RK has done his work, and wants to move on. He certainly deserves to.
We will have our own rockets to the green planet - just not directly alongside our dear friend. Sure, he probably has a whole lot more rocket fuel than most of us. But we can get there, if we hang in there.
GameStop as a company will grow through this process. THAT saga will continue on. Some of us may cash out completely as well. Some of us partially. Some of us may sell some, and then re-buy the (expensive) dip. Whatever you choose to do, I personally believe the stock price will surge, climb, pull back, and go on as any stock. It will forever be a significant part of my portfolio.
The one thing GameStop will not do for the foreseeable future is go bankrupt. Under RC, it will grow.
And that, ladies and gents, is my take on Roaring Kitty's return and the memes he left us with. There is a lot to be excited about, and hopefully this ride will last us the rest of our mortal days, long after we've been to the green planet and returned to help our loved ones on this blue one. We'll see.
Whatever happens, I am grateful to Reddit, to Wallstreet Bets, to all the GME subs big and small - I've visited you all. I am grateful for the ups and downs, the shills and shill-callers, the drama, the songs, the memes, the runic glory, the anchormen, DRS-ers and options players, TA crayon-eaters and DD-writing-wrinkle-brains. Heck I'm even grateful for those toxic Meltdownsies. All of it added to this fantastic tapestry of the GME saga the last 4 years.
The Zen Master said, "We'll see'"

My name is Dr. Smith, not my real name of course, but for purposes of storytelling it will have to suffice. I have been practicing medicine at an Asian country as a general practitioner. I'm relatively new and I practice at a small village, not too far from civilization, half a day's travel by car and a few hours by boat from the country's capital, but very rural nonetheless, complete with superstitious beliefs and customs. I decided to stay here when I first graduated and passed the licensure exam for two reasons: first, I have a place to stay here, my family's ancestral home (although none of my direct relatives have lived there for years), said ancestors being one of the first people to settle in the area and second, because my family had always been the physicians in this small community as far as anyone remembers. Me, my grandfather and his father before him all went to the city to study medicine and went back here to practice it, like there was a pull, a calling, to sacrifice the convenient, fast-paced city life for the quiet and serene. My mother hated the idea, as clingy as she is to me, saying things like she wanted me to always be around where she could protect me, but you can't really help it when purpose calls. To be honest, it feels good providing a wide range of services to the honest people of our small, humble town, no greater feeling than helping the less privelaged, educating them and dispelling preconceived notions and old wives tales which are aplenty in my country, especially here.
I still recall how everything began. I made a makeshift clinic at one of the rooms of my ancestral home, it used to be my grandfather's office, but it felt old, antique, and perhaps too... professional, nothing wrong with that, but I wanted my patients to feel a more homely setting. So, I rearranged a bit, removed the imposing self portrait of my great-grandfather wearing his white coat that hang on the wall and transferred it to a more private area of the house. I changed the dim, barely functioning lights into brighter, more modern ones, removed the exceedingly extravagant chandelier and equipped the room with materials and equipment that I deemed necessary for my practice. I retained the wooden floors, but outfitted the walls with charts and more colorful decorations, in anticipation for the occasional pediatric patient. It was beginning to look less like an old abandoned house where teenagers went for the spooks and more like a place of healing and betterment, a clean place offering a clean mind...or so I hope.
"Your grandfather would have a heart attack if he wasn't dead already, seeing what you've done with his old clinic" quipped Martha, our housekeeper. All I know about Martha is that my grandfather hired her as a young teen and she has been here since then, she babysat and raised my mother as her own, and even took care of me as a toddler. Considering her age, she mostly supervises the younger and more capable help rather than doing tasks herself. None of them stay at the house, but they get called upon when me or any of my relatives were expected. Most of the family consider her as one of our own at this point.
"Well i'm sure great grandpa on the other hand enjoys the change of view" I replied jokingly. "Besides, I bet the patients would appreciate not being treated in such a dark, gloomy room."
"You know how your grandfather was..." she replies, that the idea of a dark, gloomy, old man liking dark, gloomy, old places was a no brainer. "...but everything aside, it is so nice to see you again, have you been feeling better? What did your mother think of you staying here?" she said with what I felt as outmost sincerity, "I used to chase and carry you around this estate and now look at you, about to carry out your family's legacy as a physician yourself" she continued, with a hint of pride from her tone.
I smiled. I myself couldn't think of a reason why a well respected man, revered even, by this town and it's people for everything he has done would act nonchalant and depressed, always with a jaded look in his eyes and stay in an equally dim and depressing part of his house, I've always known him to be like that, but was he always?
"I am better now. It's good to see you too, I'm glad you're staying healthy, and mom sure did not like it but well...she told me to say hi on her behalf" I told Martha. She beams up and smiles on my mother's mention.
"Well...I took the liberty of digging up your grandfather's documents, records and his patient charts, I doubt many of them still live but I thought maybe you'd like to have a look, I placed them around your desk but I can relocate them if you want me to"
"No, that's perfect. That's something I actually intended to do, i'll give it a read, thank you" I replied. I know some of those patients were either old or probably dead to be honest, but seeing data as well as the cases my grandfather had to deal with might help me in the future.
"The villagers already know Dr. Smith's grandson is here, they know you're a doctor, so expect to have a patient one of these days, perhaps as soon as you give the word that your clinic is open" Martha said, as she walks out of the room smiling and slightly waving, signalling a goodbye.
"I'm not even surprised" I think to myself. Places like these, words spreads like wildfire on topics like these, the idea of someone from a known family, coming back from the city, not to mention deciding to stay indefinitely, like the whole village needed notification, like the village demands explanation.
Hours passed and as I was satisfied with my new setup for the clinic, I took a break, sitting down and looking at the mountain of paperwork and folders placed on and around my desk. I picked one, thinking to myself that I might as well have a look now, with nothing else of note to do.
Patient #010438 Name redacted 43/Female
History of present illness: Patient had 3 day history of undocumented fever, dysuria, and bilateral flank pain Did not seek consult, no medications taken
Past Medical History Unremarkable
Personal and Social History Unremarkable
OB history illegible
Physical Examination BP 110/80 HR 102 RR 20
Nonhyperemic tonsils No murmurs Clear breath sounds Nontender abdomen (+) Kidney punch test
Noted a signature of the patient claiming she was not pregnant as a form of waiver
"Jesus grandpa, couldn't your history and physical exam get any lazier?" I thought to myself. Seeing pertinent history not asked and multiple organ systems ignored on physical examination. Given, some of the writing were already faded, the quality of the paper had deteriorated greatly, and plenty of details already illegible, all in all the documents weren't that bad. It sure doesn't help though that he writes like someone in the middle of a warzone practicing heiroglyphs.
I skimmed through more of the documents and patient files, most of the cases are relatively benign, majority are outpatient visits, some are emergency cases and there are the rare ones requiring transfer to a more developed town hours from here with better services and equipment. Time passed and as I lay down the last folder in a pile, I noticed a moderately sized box, probably the size of a briefcase, placed on the floor, dusty but obviously ornate. It piqued my interest although in my mind, I was pretty sure it was nothing but more documents, I decided to give it a look.
I picked a stack up and I started to read:
Patient #00512c Name redacted 32/Female
"Weird" I thought, it was numbered differently, and definitely none of the other documents were lettered. I continued reading:
History of present illness: This is a case of a 32 year old female who came in on date redacted due to a chief complaint of multiple hematomas, abrasions, burn wounds and lacerations on her face, trunk and extremeties..."
"Trauma? An accident? Possible abuse?" I contemplated.
"...patient allegedly noticed easy bruisability 2 weeks prior to consult, followed by alleged spontaneous appearance of abrasions and lacerations 2-3 days from onset of bruising, supposedly waking the patient at night due to the sudden sharp and searing pain, initially small cuts 3-5cm widest on her extremeties and face but eventually progressing to deep cuts measuring approximately 10-50cm on her back, chest, abdomen and lower extremeties. 1 week prior to consult, patient started noticing burning sensations on her skin, causing extreme pain and leaving reddish burn marks on her body, patient also experienced lack of appetite and inability to sleep due to loud voices and..."
"Spontaneous appearance? Easy bruising could be a lot of things, but for it to occur with 'spontaneous' abrasions and lacerations? Not to mention burn marks?" I thought out loud, having doubts about the credibility of the use of the word "spontaneous". Surely it was not an accident, considering it started 2 weeks ago with noted progression. "It could be a hematologic problem with the bruising, but that wouldn't explain the sudden appearance of cuts...maybe accompanied by a dermatologic one, the patient is prone to breaks in the skin? But then again the burn marks...the voices..." I analyzed. I was leaning towards abuse, where the cuts and bruises were inflicted by someone else and the abused, whether in some form of fear or coping, decides that it was "spontaneous" rather than inflicted, but why bother lying to yourself, perhaps the one who did it to her is a partner? Or a loved one? It made sense, someone progressively becoming more aggressive with her as time went by, becoming more and more extreme, from bruises to eventually burning.
It could a combination of illnesses to be honest, one on top of another, perhaps an overly sensitive or extremely dry skin that breaks and peels until it bleeds, an allergic reaction prompting the patient to unconciously scratch till her skin became red and lichenified, voices due to lack of sleep or a mental disorder. But looking at my grandfather's physical examination of her, none of the findings solidifies the possibility of those i've mentioned. Truth be told I also partially allowed myself to tunnel vision on the prospect of an abuse, to the point I've skipped some of the chart's contents that I deemed weren't important and tried to look for information to support my claim, or perhaps to disprove it, rookie mistake, but well, I am a rookie then.
"Patient is widowed, lives alone at a secluded area near redacted, only goes out to buy some necessities from redacted but has very minimal interaction from anyone in the village"
Okay then, either she is hiding the fact someone was with her, who is abusing her like I initially thought of, or it's self harm. "I'm pretty sure grandpa considered everything that went through my mind right now. Let me check his initial impression" I thought, with a tinge of annoyance, considering I felt that the patient lied to my grandfather, and was lying to me, decades after the fact.

1 Trauma, to consider physical abuse versus self harm;

"Alright, now we're getting somewhere" I said to myself, with a bit of pride having the same thought process as a physician with decades more experience than I do.

2 To consider mental disorder, probably psychotic - premature dementia

I chuckled. Premature dementia, didn't think i'd see that term, I thought everyone including those from his time would have used schizophrenia already, then again medicine and medical knowledge isn't as easily passed around as it is now. Psychiatry as a science would be relatively new during his time compared to other disciplines so the fact he considered it based on the patient hearing "voices"? Bravo gramps.
"Well...", I thought to myself, "...plenty of things to consider and rule out, let me check what else is there." A bit of cockiness on picking my grandfather's brain out and feeling good about my train of thought, a practice consult and so far, I'm on my way to a perfect score...

3. To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

.................
I gave the document a stern look, unmoving, unblinking, emotionless. Time has stopped, and I haven't noticed. My brain trying to digest the information, the same way my stomach would probably digest a block of steel...it's just not possible. I read one of my grandfather's diagnosis again:

3 To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

I never been one for faith. Evidence is everything. Science is everything. You can replicate it, you can prove it. Most importantly...It. Makes. Sense. I look at beliefs not based on evidence and feel nothing but skepticism if not disdain. Why won't people listen to expert opinion? Why won't people believe in facts? Why explain the unknown in such convoluted ways, requiring submission of oneself when the only thing the truth requires is but comprehension. I looked at that diagnosis feeling disappointment.
Then I felt anger. "Grandpa, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" I thought to myself. Here is a woman, full of bruises, cuts and burns all over her body, claiming that she has been suffering for weeks, barely eats or sleeps, was having auditory hallucinations, in dire need of medical, if not emotional and psychological support and one of the things that comes across your mind is possession.
I tried to calm my mind, these are records of the past anyway, I thought. Maybe it was a resignation born out of incompetence. Maybe grandpa wasn't as good of a doctor as I thought he was, that the shortcomings of his knowledge and limited technology of his time prompted him to adopt a more...liberal viewpoint to medicine. Maybe he was just superstitious himself. Maybe the people of this place had leaked some of their local beliefs into his psyche. Maybe isolation changed the man. Or maybe...just maybe...there's something to it.
I've never been one for faith. That goes for my faith in science as well. To just say that something is stupid because it doesn't align with standard, accepted scientific belief is just as detrimental as its counterpart.
I decided to investigate further when I heard the entrance to the room open with force. One of the maids leaning onto the wall by the entrance, still grasping the doorknob and evidently out of breath.
"Sir...ma'am Martha...calling...for you...says...it's...it's...an emergency..." She says in between breaths.
I quickly stood up, feeling sorry for the woman, she just ran, obviously gasping for air as she arrived at the clinic and now has to lead me back to wherever she came from with the same urgency. At first I was worried something might have happened with Martha, what the maid said didn't really give much clarity, but upon arriving at the main hall I noticed Martha, standing beside a middle aged man and woman, carrying a child, no more than 10 years old. I notice the clear panic and worry on both of their eyes as the man held the boy, who was uncontrollably shaking.
"I know you're not taking any patients yet and I was considering the time, but nobody knows what to do so I..." Martha explains, quite concerned while I ordered the parents to put the child flat on the ground, with me assessing the situation. The first thing I noticed was that the child was burning hot, "possibly febrile seizure? No, too old" I thought. I asked both the parents important details while I ordered the other maid to time the duration of the child's seizure. All the while thinking of possible diseases that may present as such, "Seizure disorder? Epilepsy? Meningitis? Encephalitis?" Eventually the shaking stopped, much to the parents' relief, and I ordered them to carry the boy as we made our way back to the clinic.
"Was this the first time it ever happened?" I inquired, as I put the child on one of the beds in the clinic, securing the corners with additional pillows, noticing the sunken face and apparent exhaustion from the boy, possibly due to the ongoing fever and the recent seizure episode. Once secured, I face the parents and continued my inquiries, I eventually explained everything, elaborating on what I believe happened, I explained that for now, lowering the fever and investigating the source were what we could address, the battery of tests I plan to do (disappointingly, most of them cannot be done here, and I would have to accompany them to a hospital on another town as soon as first light breaks), and the medications and management I plan to give. Everything proceeded as planned and I asked both parents to relax and take a breather, offering them a seat and asking the help to give them water.
Things eventually settled, little Johnny's fever subsided and color came back to him. Nowhere near clear, he can worsen anytime, but that was the best that we could do at that time. The parents were still worried, understandably so, but to an extent reassured, we have a plan after all. Martha, as well as Diane (the help from earlier), now at a calmer state. We discussed the plan, how we would travel, who would accompany us and what we would bring. Eventually, our conversations became relaxed, started to shift to other things, trivial matters, such as were they lived in the village, the date and time of my arrival, recent gossip, where Martha was more than happy to share.
"I was worried the evil spirits might have gotten my baby..." Said the mother nonchalantly, as we talked about the occurrence on a lighter note. "...that's how they got Mrs. Johnson's middle child. That poor boy was never the same after."
I smiled. Not wanting to immediately correct them and sound like an uptight individual. It's part of our culture afterall, old belief systems and a way for people to cope with loss or difficulty, who was I to deny them that. I won't approach these people the hardheaded way, but I will slowly show them the realities and truths of the things they may not understand, well, at least with regards to their health.
"Well, little Johnny is safe here, we'll do what we can" pointing to their son.
Only, their son wasn't where he was supposed to be. I look at the parents, I look at both Martha and Diane, everyone who looked at where I pointed were just as shocked as I was, a split second of silence before panic ensued. Suddenly, everyone stood up on high alert and was looking everywhere. Under covers, under the bed, corners of the room, the desk, behind curtains, hell, I saw Diane look at one of the damn drawers, as if a 10 year old would fit there.
Suddenly I heard loud vomiting, retching, followed by sounds of splashing. I follow where the sounds came from and see a large pool of black, tarry liquid at a corner of my room. I slowly trace where it was coming from and there he was...little Johnny...standing...upside down...on the ceiling.
I hear everyone in the room scream, I was probably screaming too, I couldn't remember. I do remember little Johnny screaming with us though, extremely high pitched and mockingly, with bloodshot eyes, upside down, while black liquid poured from his mouth, covering his face and dripping from his hair. How was that even possible, screaming while liters of unknown fluid dripped from his mouth? I don't know.
Then he laughed, although I was pretty sure that wasn't his voice. It was deep and guttural, it cannot be the boy's voice, it cannot be any boy's voice.
Time seemed to move in slow motion, I was noticing every detail, every expression from everyone's face, I can feel the seconds hand on my wall clock move, the slow dripping of the viscous dark liquid from little Johnny, I can feel every drop of sweat on my body. I could not cope with what i'm experiencing, was it a trick of the mind, an organized prank, have I gone mad...again? So I did the only thing I know how to do...
I tried to diagnose.
"Maybe it was dengue shock all along!" I thought to myself. "Vomiting blood, paleness, fever, an episode of seizure and definitely change in sensorium" I reasoned to myself. I was coping, and I was coping hard. I was ready to drown on my self absorbtion when a booming voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
"YOU DUMB FUCK, WILL ANY ILLNESS EXPLAIN WHY YOUR FUCKING PATIENT IS HANGING UPSIDE DOWN ON THE FUCKING CEILING?" Said little Johnny, or at least whoever was speaking on his behalf, because from where I'm standing, I can clearly see that the boy was not mouthing any of the words he said.
"YOU'RE A FUCKING FAILURE, DOCTORS LIKE YOU SHOULD KILL THEMSELVES! HAHAHAHA" he laughed, I never knew laughs could sound like that, as if the words were nails, and his voice box a chalkboard.
"OH WAIT, YOU FAILED AT THAT TOO DOC! FUCKING PATHETIC!"
Of all the things that were happening...a young boy hanging upside down, a mother crying on the floor hysterically, a father staring at his son, eyes wide open and mouth agape, Martha and Diane, both crying while sharing a rosary, in the act of what I assume to be prayer...the thing that snapped me out of my trance was the words that came from little Johnny. Knowledge nobody but the closest to me should know. A secret I planned to leave behind when I left the city, a wound I intended to forget as I started anew.
Visions of my memories came flashing back...medical school...overwhelming duty...familial expectations...failure...depression...my attempt...a bottle of medications...my mother...crying...on my bedside...
"LEAVE MY SON ALONE!" Johnny's father screamed. Starling everyone in the room.
Nothing matters, the past is in the past, I am better now, and that boy needs help, more than anything.
"YOUR SON? WHY DON'T WE ASK THAT CRYING WHORE IF JOHNNY REALLY IS YOUR SON" The voice says, laughing.
At that point the mother stops crying, looks up towards johnny, then towards his husband, in a state of shock. Like what the voice said is crazier than whatever was happening at the moment.
"THE ONLY REASON THAT WHORE STUCK WITH YOU WAS BECAUSE JOHNNY'S REAAAAAAAL FATHER WOULD NOT TAKE HER!" The entity says, continuing the hysteric laughter.
We were being played. It was toying with us. And from the look on the mother's face...it seems like little Johnny did not even need to lie to do it.
Then, to everyone's horror..."It" started to run.
It ran across the ceiling in a rabid frenzy, erratic and forceful, running and jumping, hopping sideways then going on all fours, still attached to the ceiling, splashing bile and blood all over the room, all the while making a "hihihi" sound...childish and terrifying. It ran and ran, repeating the same erratic change in movements, repeating the same eerie giggle until it reached the window, stopping and standing straight, it stared outside for what felt like forever...then all of a sudden...johnny just fell, like whatever was attaching him to the ceiling just gave, headfirst into the floor, giving a very audible cracking sound.
I heard a gasp from johnny's mother. I can at least detect some miniscule chest expansion, but that cracking sound cannot be anything good. As if thinking the same thing, Martha, who was the nearest to where Johnny fell, while still clinging tightly to Diane's rosary, approached the boy.
"Johnny?" She said softly, all the while approaching an inch at a time.
As she was almost at arms length of the boy's body, she gives the mother a knowing look, confirming that he was breathing. Martha suddenly produces a piece of cloth from one of the pockets of her uniform, possibly to pack the bleeding from the head. She intended to put the cloth on top of the boy's head, but looked towards my direction, urging me forward, perhaps for me to place it properly. I walk towards the boy, takes the cloth from Martha and as I fold the cloth to circle Johnny's cranium with Martha's help, the boy immediately sat up, looks at Martha and smiles ear to ear...literally ear to ear.
"GET YOUR WRINKLY HANDS OFF ME YOU DUSTY OLD FUCK!" He barks at her, Martha screams in fear and I was taken aback.
That was all the time Johnny needed to stand and jump towards the window, breaking it and running towards the mountainside. I hear his father scream his name, quickly breaking more glass so he could fit, and immediately giving chase. The mother was still on the floor, wailing towards the direction of her child and husband. Martha, in shock, still holding the cloth she intended to wrap johnny with.
It took me a while to notice Diane shaking me vigorously. "Doctor!" She screams. "Doctor Smith! What should we do!?" She voices out, with obvious desperation.
I ignored her.
I feel scared, but taking all into consideration, I predominantly feel tired. Defeated. Insulted.
I have nothing more to give in the face of whatever that thing that took Johnny was.
I slowly walk towards my desk, I open my drawer, I take a piece of paper and I pull out my pen.
Patient #00001a Name redacted 10/M
I write, giving no thoughts to the people on the same room as me, those left behind by little Johnny and his father. "Did he catch up to him? Was the boy alright now?...is his father alright?" I wonder. I'll find out soon enough, I figured, rumors spread like wildfire around here anyways.
I continued to write with resignment, absorbed in my own little world, consumed by the horror I witnessed, the breaking of my spirit, of my beliefs, the questioning of my knowledge. I want to escape it, deny it, but that's not what should be done to the truth. So I surrendered.

1 To consider possession probably secondary to malevolent spirit

END

Sionia
Chapter 14
Map First Previous
“Lord Wyatt, you are needed” Called Lars that shook me out of my fascinating reading about dragon neuts.
“Yes.” I said as I pulled back the curtain.
“The city guard requests to speak with you. They are restricting entrance to Avalon given the latest attack by Mardor at Black Gate of Rowan.” Lars explained with a salute and chest bump
With a sigh, I handed my book to Gus and exited the carriage and was very impressed with the massive three story gatehouse and huge stone block readouts connected on each side. I was met by a forty something looking man of average build with black hair and dark eyes flanked by six fully fitted out soldiers.
“I am Rhys Redith captain of the guard here in Avalon. You must be Count Ryan Wyatt.” Rhys introduced himself with the question.
“Yes, I am Ryan Wyatt.” I responded with a frown and knotted brow.
“We have been expecting your arrival. The king has ordered us to assist you and provide hospitality. I am to escort you to the fortress and the rest of your party to Duggan's inn.” Said Rhys with a salute and formal bow.
“That will not do! I have several wards under my care which several are nobility.” I objected to the plan given.
“I was not aware. I will of course take you to the fortress where Lady Ludmilla will address your concerns.” Replied Rhys with a salute and bow then motioned for me to follow.
“Follow him, Jace .” I said to my new driver and climbed into the carriage.
The bridge over the north side of the Paradise River to the island of Avalon was very long at around a quarter mile or so. The readouts of the gatehouse extended a good ways into the river which had several firing positions. I suspected that the river rose and fell with a possible rainy and dry season which was why the readouts could prevent an army from getting behind the gatehouse or access to the bridge from land. The island side gatehouse was flush with the city walls and protruded into the river was equally as impressive with a descent sized recessed portico and draw bridge porch extension.
Thinking back to my travels through Europe, I decided Avalon looked like the city of East Looe, Cornwall in England but not as topographically elevated and with more renaissance style architecture than back on earth. The Roman style arched bridge was very much what we just rode across. The fortress of Avalon itself was at the highest point which was off to the left on the far east side of the island and most up stream point on the islands.
The Fortress keep was decent but still half the size of Duke Boasag's Buanna. I realized that the reason for putting my servants at an inn was because of the lack of space. However, I was determined to stay with my wards no matter the violation of etiquette it might cause. As my carriage pulled up to the entrance with the fortress that had both iron gates and metal reinforced wooden doors that were a good six feet wide and twelve feet tall each. These doors were set into no less than a three foot thick wall.
Passing through the gate was a small bricked paved courtyard that was about forty to fifty feet wide in a more or less oval shape. I saw a host of servants and two well dressed ladies waiting at the main doors to the fortress's central keep.
“Lord Wyatt, welcome to Avalon. I am Viscountess Ludmilla Skafhoggr and this is my mother Baroness Grogda Wode.” Stated a quiet plump pretty faced brown haired woman in a gaudy yellow with purple accented dress with unicorns all over it and a matching unicorn hat whose horn protruded a good foot from her forehead.
“Yes, it is a very deep pleasure to meet you as well.” Stated Lady Grogda a good looking woman who seemed to be in her mid to late thirties with black hair and unusual olive colored eyes. Her lite brown dress was quiet plain compared to her daughter's which was kind of comical in their contrast.
“The pleasure is mine for sure in meeting you ladies.” I said pouring it on a bit thick with a formal bow and sweep of my arm.
“I do not understand. Why are all your people with you?” Lady Ludmilla asked looking toward Captain Rhys but speaking to me.
“I have many wards under my protection. Thus, it is impossible to leave them alone without my presence as there are many who would try and take advantage of helpless young girls.” I stated but that failed miserably when Freya and the other three Asgardians approached fully armed with their swords.
“I would hardly call them helpless!” Spat Lady Grogda with a bit of contempt as the Asgardians were better looking than her.
“Despite appearances, they need my protection. After all, I am their guardian as I freed them from captivity.” I responded with a bit of admonishment in my voice.
“Yes, we have heard the tale. You are quiet the knight in shinning armor.” Lady Ludmilla said with obvious sarcasm.
“It is what it is. The wards will be with me wherever I am. If that is at an inn or camping on the side of the road, so bit it.” I stated with irritation.
“Do not be silly. We can host your wards and personal attendant. However, we must insist that the rest stay in the inn over there.” Lady Ludmilla said pointing to a three story building that was about fifty yards away.
“That is closer than expected. However, I accept. My people can stay at the inn while you host me and my wards.” I stated with another formal bow.
“Good, now come and we will see to your comfort.” Lady Ludmilla said with a bit of a laugh with Lady Grogda giving a small laugh and a wicked grin.
I immediately turned to Lars, Razor and Meowth and ordered that they maintain a watch on the carts and carriage around the clock as I did not want any lapse where someone would try to take advantage. I called to the wolf kin brothers to continue to protect the girls inside the fortress. Pointing to Lars, I told him to take our prisoner Andros to the adventure's guild office and turn him over and letting them know he was caught trying to steal from me. Tell them I will see them on morrow to see if Andros was telling the truth or just lying. Turning with a smile and motioned to Freya and the girls to follow me with Gus right behind me.
The inside of the fortress was decently furnished though it had more of the appearance of a military outpost than a holding of wealth as it looked quiet spartan. I was led to an upper chamber where Lady Grogda had already ordered a bath filled by the time we had arrived.
“I will see to you personally” Lady Grogda stated with that same wicked grin again.
I suddenly felt as though I was a piece of meat put on display before a hungry wolf. I steeled myself to not recoil as I just felt off with this lady.
“See to your master's baggage.” Lady Grogda ordered Gus who was surprised by the command.
Gus gave me a slight shaking of his head and left the chamber. Lady Grogda then proceeded to strip me with efficiency. Once I was naked, she suddenly took her time looking at my nakedness. She even traced my scars on my back with a click of her tongue. Walking over to the tub, I climbed in and sat down.
“Spoil sport” Said Lady Grogda as she grabbed a wash cloth.
“Do not get my wounds wet.” I said warning Lady Groda of what the doctor had told me.
“Why? Your wound is almost well healed. The stitches can be pulled out except here” Stated Grogda and tapped me on my left shoulder blade.
“I have been using a special salve from the high elves. I did not realize it was healing that fast. However, I was warned that getting my wound wet would effect my healing.” I repeated what Doctor Zalzwarth told me.
“Very well.” Groda conceded.
Lady Grogda began washing me where she was absolutely taking her time. It was obvious that she was deliberately feeling me up for her own pleasure. When she grasped my manhood. I stood up and said, “The water is cold and I am tired and hungry!”
“Humph” Pouted Lady Grogda her displeasure but began to rinse me.
Just as I was stepping out of the tub, Gus entered slightly out of breath as he had run to get my clothes with Lukas my footman helping. I sighed with relief as Gus helped me don my dressing gown.
“Old Maude will be here momentarily to apply your salve.” Gus said with a salute.
“Very good.” I replied to Gus then turned to Lady Grogda and said, “I was told you are a Dowager Baroness. Is that not so?” I blatantly asked appearing as innocent as I could.
“I will see you at the dinner bell hour.” Lady Groda said with a sort of half wave salute and stormed out of the chamber in a huff.
“Thank you, Gus. I actually thought I would have to literally fight to save my personal honor.” I remarked with a laugh.
“It was my pleasure, Lord Wyatt.” Gus responded and joined me in laughing.
Old Maude came about twenty minutes later and applied my salve and chatted about how excited she was to be in Avalon and wanting to visit one of the apothecary shops. I gave her permission but have one of the guards accompany her.
About an hour later and I was fully shaven and dressed, I heard a large bell ringing from a bell tower not far away from my chamber. With that, I headed down to the great hall that was just off the main entrance way. I was met by Lady Ludmilla who escorted me to Viscount Skafhoggr chair where she seated herself to my left. Lady Grogda appeared wearing a new pink dress and seated herself to my right. The one missing was the Viscount.
“Where is Lord Skafhoggr?” I asked Lady Ludmilla with a raised eyebrow.
“He is meeting with one of the military commanders. I believe they are deciding on how large a levy they must raise to battle the bastards of Mardor.” Replied Lady Ludmilla as she clapped her hands for servants to begin serving the evening meal.
Four exhausting hours later, I was back in my chamber with my nerves completely shot. The constant fawning and mindless chatter from Lady Ludmilla as well as the constant groping from Lady Grogda under the table had stained me to the max. I was ready for bed and was glad to sink into the lavender scented sheets. Gus grabbed a thin pallet and two blankets. Blowing out the candles he stepped into the hallway closing the door behind him. He would outside my door as custom demands while traveling.
A little over a half an hour later after Gus left, the door opened and closed quickly. I could not see in the darkness but relaxed when Freya spoke softly and slipped into bed with me. Freya did her magic on me as she mounted me taking me to new heights of pleasure. I quickly forgot all about the overly eager pursuit of the Dowager Baroness as I shared the pleasures of being with Freya. After we had sated ourselves completely, we slept peacefully in a loving embrace.
The morning came with a knock on my door that woke both Freya and I. I moaned but Freya nudged me on the chin.
“Time to wake you lazy bones.” Freya said with a laugh.
“I am not a morning person.” I said with a groan.
“Don't I know it! You were quiet the beast were you not?” Freya teased then laughed at me.
The knock on the door was more instant as I rose and put on my dressing gown. Opening the door slightly was Gus and the Dowager Baroness.
“It is early, what is it?” I asked.
“We have prepared a very special meal for you this morning.” Said Lady Grogda with a frown while she tried to look around me into the chamber.
“I see. Well, give me some time to properly dress and I will be down shortly.” I stated and continued to Gus “Have Lukas bring my shaving kit.”
“Right away, Lord Wyatt.” Gus said as he motioned down the hall where I assumed Lukas was.
About forty five minutes later and having snuck Freya out of my chamber, I was fully shaved and dressed in my dark red outfit and black beret hat that actually looked really good on me. Upon entering the great hall, I saw Lady Ludmilla seated. Lady Grogda taking me by the arm led me again to the Viscount's chair where she seated herself next to me.
“Where is Lord Skafhoggr, Lady Ludmilla?” I asked her directly.
Lady Ludmilla was quiet for a moment then said, “I guess he is sleeping. The meetings with the military commanders drag on for hours and hours. I hardly ever see him these days.” Lady Ludmilla said with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Is that so. Very well as it can not be helped. Please send my regards to Lord Skafhoggr for his hospitality. I was informed that the king would have a messages for me that Lord Skafhoggr was to give me. Could you ask Lord Skafhoggr for them?” I asked as I suspected something was just not right.
“Oh. Ah. I will of course ask my Lord Vincent for the king's message once morning meal is finished.” Lady Ludmilla said and looked discombobulated.
“I see. Please do so. The king ordered me to arrive in Camelot immediately. I can not dally and spend extra time as I normally would do. I hope you understand.” I said making extra emphasis on the king's order part.
“Yes. What the king commands we all must obey.” Lady Ludmilla said sourly but not looking at me.
Lady Ludmilla then clapped her hands and the servants brought in the morning meal. What surprised me was my meal was different from everyone else. Looking at both Lady Ludmilla and Lady Grogda something in the back on my head screamed warning warning.
The silver plate before me was a type of stew with a strong overpowering spice scent. I frowned and began to think hard and fast.
“This is a specialty from the High Valley region. I hope you like it.” Lady Grogda said with no expression at all.
My alarm bells went off even stronger this time. A footman came over to fill my cup which I deliberately knocked over and profusely apologized for my clumsiness.
“You know, I am from the High Valley region too. I have never been a fan of overly spiced foods. Lets see how spicy it is.” I stated and took a scoop with a spoon and handed it to the footman to taste.
The footman was surprised but more than happy to taste the food as it was obvious that food for the staff was very plain and simple.
“You should not do that! It is not right!” Lady Grogda said as she stood up showing more alarm than outrage.
The footman had already consumed the sample where he at first looked like he liked it. However, he suddenly started to choke as his face turned bright red and falling to his knees. Lady Ludmilla stood up in horror as the footman was gagging begging for water. I handed him my silver chalice with what I assumed was apple cider where he chugged it down then begged for more.
Finally, after three more cups of water given by another footman, first footman just lay on his back almost in a stupor. It was as if his mind was blank.
“What is this?” I asked as I pointed to my meal looking at both Lady Ludmilla and Lady Grogda.
“I do not know!” Said Lady Ludmilla looking at her mother with a strange look.
“Do not give me that! What did you do?” I demanded with a my voiced raised and now pointing my finger at them.
“It was a love potion. It was to make you like me.” Said Lady Grogda meekly and looking sheepishly at the ground.
“Seriously! That was more than a simple love potion!” I yelled my outrage.
“I swear that is all it was. I had to hide its not so pleasant taste with spice.” Lady Grogda stated her defense but still not able to look me in the eye.
“Lady Ludmilla, I must now ask that you bring me the king's message as I am now leaving Avalon.” I commanded with rage in my countenance.
Lady Ludmilla fled the great hall without replying. Lady Grogda just sat down with her head down looking at the floor saying nothing.
With exasperation, I called out to my people. “House of Wyatt, Ladies and girls we are leaving! Quickly gather your things and be out front within a little span!”
With that, I stormed out of the great hall to the shock of all present. Up in the guest chamber, I changed clothes into my bluejeans, a blue shirt and a tan leather vest. Pulling on my boots and strapping on my weapons belt, I looked over seeing Gus and Lukas already packed up my discarded clothing and was ready to leave as they were staying clear of my angry outbursts.
Down at the carts, I ordered my guards to ready themselves to leave. I sent Lukas to call all the servants in the inn to be ready to leave immediately. Razor and Meowth jumped down from their perch on the first two carriages with questioning looks.
“They tried to poison me! Can you believe it?” I said angrily as I swept my arm to point at the fortress.
“Meow Lord Wyatt, that is clawful. Do you want meow to use them like a scratching post?” Asked Meowth as her tail went straight in what I assumed was either surprise or anger.
Razor just gave a low grumbling growl with teeth bared as he looked at the fortress.
Forty minutes later as my people were loading up, Lady Ludmilla approached with her head down.
“I am sorry Lord Wyatt. It seems you do not have any messages from the king.” Lady Ludmilla said never once looking me in the eye.
“I see. Send a message to the king that I left Avalon today and as commanded traveling as quickly as I can. The king is expecting my update so make sure it is properly sent!” I said with a warning.
I ordered a florse saddled for I needed fresh air as I was still furious. I actually led our people out and toward the main north south road which Nick panicked a bit and settled with riding next to me. As we approached the main crossroads of the city, I saw a large dinning hall and ordered a halt for all of our people to have breakfast. The meal consisted of roasted mutton, eggs, apple pancakes and apple jam. They also had fresh chilled milk and apple cider which really went well with the sweet dishes. Our group apparently cleaned them out and they had to turn away a few customers until mid day.
After breakfast, I went to the adventurer's guild that was a few buildings to the south. It was a four story building of decent size. I allowed Old Maude with a one of the house guards to go to the apothecary shop across the road along with the two Alphardian servants Aura and Sylvia. Inside the adventurer's guild, I asked for Marine as instructed. It was then I learned that Marine was Zack Talley's girl where they were to marry soon as she proudly let me know her good news.
“Zack said to tell you this is a level one escort. Whatever that means.” I repeated what Zack had told me to say.
“Thank you. It simply means Zack thinks there would be no problems and just being present is enough to discourage any potential thieves. The total is two hundred fifty denari for basic escort with an A ranked adventurer.” Marine said with a smile
After paying the fee for the job request, I asked Marine to speak to someone about Andros that was brought in by man guard Lars.
“I am Supervisor Etan Borg and assistant to Guild Master Henry Stewart. It is a pleasure to be at your service Count Wyatt.” Stated Etan with a salute and bow.
“Pleasure is mine.” I replied with a salute and nod of my head.
“We have investigated Andros. His party the Finders of Avalon specialize in retrieving lost items or stolen goods from thieves. It appears his party was specifically requested to recover a lost ventu volpis. We do not have any more details for the job other than this.” Etan stated as he read from a page in his hand.
“Who hired them to steal from me? Make no mistake, they were hired to steal from me!” I said as I was showing my anger and frustration.
“Normally, we would not disclose who posted job requests to those not apart of the contract. However, given the circumstances, I was instructed to tell you it was Viscountess Lady Ludmilla. It seems she contracted and paid a merchant from Xanadu for a ventu volpis. It is our understanding that merchant was placed on a Quenya trade ship where he will go on trial for his many crimes in Svarta. The Finders of Avalon should not have tried to take your ventu volpis. Nor should they have taken on the job given the crimes of the merchant without more information.” Etan explained what the guild knew.
“What will happen to Andros?” I asked frankly.
“The Guild Master will hold a hearing with S and an A ranked members who will advise on the issues. I expect he will be found guilty but will escape the ten year punishment. More like one to two years of labor for the guild doing low ranked jobs that no one wants while being supervised by myself or a C ranked or higher adventurer. His pay will be one third of normal with the rest going to repay the guild and costs associated with his lapse in judgment.” Etan replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
“I see. The thing that irks me is they attacked my people and wounded one of my guards with a slinger's stone.” I explained my outrage.
“I was not aware of this fact. Master Stewart will compensate you as the law requires. Unfortunately, Master Stewart left for Camelot for meetings with the war counsel on Astria's response to the Empire's latest invasion. I will send a filoxis to let Master Stewart know that there was injury, offense and honor requirements. I understand you will be traveling to Camelot and am certain Master Stewart will seek you out to give you a formal apology and see you are properly compensated.” Etan stated with a salute and bow.
“Good enough. Let me know the outcome of the hearing for Andros. I do not like loose ends and a potential enemy looking for revenge.” I said mater of factually.
“Understood. I will relay your concerns to Master Stewart. Etan replied with another salute and bow.
Leaving the adventure's guild, I decided to visit the tradesman's guild and merchant's storefront while Old Maude was still busy across the street. The girls came with me as they had been requesting things like combs, brushes and scented oils plus a few other special feminine items they needed.
Once all the girls got what they were needing and getting those items stowed with their baggage, Old Maude came back with a small crate filled with items to make medicines. While the baggage was being loaded and sorted, I went to see the information broker's desk and inquired about Chamberlain Robert Duffy. I paid the requested fee of one erythro given his status in the city. I was shown a file which listed the qualities, character and known habits of Robert. There was a section about vices and food preferences. The only vice was seeing a woman who was a widow listed as a paid mistress. Basically, Robert was a straight as an arrow honorable man. I smiled as the report made me feel better about who I was helping.
Finally, with everyone loaded up, we headed out of the city of Avalon over the southern main bridge and gate that was just like the north one but slightly longer with a guard tower protected draw bridge section to let ships pass. After about two hours, I had calmed down enough that I rode in the carriage as was expected of a person of rank. I just looked out seeing nothing but the vast wheat fields of the Capital Region realizing how lucky I had been to escape the evils of the ladies of Fortress Avalon.

The episode resumed on a shot of Zee and Jo, their skin tones back to normal, running up to a smiling Chris. "Welcome back," he told the camera. "Zee and helper Jo are the first to arrive here, at the world's largest mud puddle!" The camera pulled back, revealing that the trio was standing near the edge of a large lake of burbling mud, a measuring stick rising out of it at the nearest edge.
"It's eight feet deep," Chris explained over a close-up of the measuring stick showing the mud reaching up very nearly to the 8' mark, "and 200 yards across. And," the camera quick-panned to the far right side of the 'puddle', "since it's too thick to swim through," the shot cut back to the couple and Chris, "the only way to the other side is with one of you piggybacking the other."
"Umm...," Zee said hesitantly, sharing a wary look with Jo, "doesn't that mean the person on the bottom..."
"Will drown?" Chris finished. "Yes."
"What?!" Jo said in wide-eyed shock.
"Unless they use this garden hose!" Chris added, a light chime playing as he held up a length of green hose.
Zee let out a breath. "Okay then. Guess I'm on the bottom, then."
Jo's eyes widened a bit in a brief bit of surprise, and she looked at her partner. "I should be objecting to this since I'm supposed to be the helper, but hey. No heavy lifting from me."
"Yeah…" Zee agreed half heartedly.
Confessional: Zee
"I was able to hold Jo onto my back while we were skiing," Zee told the confessional. "I can still do the same while under mud."
Confessional Ends
"I know that I said you were weak in the past," Jo said, "but that was until I saw that you were able to make it this far in the game."
"You thought wrong about me," Zee replied. "I wasn’t active at first in challenges and finding food, but with Julia eliminated, I was able to grow and become a finalist."
Chris suddenly stepped between the two. "How touching. Now start the challenge."
The scene cut to Zee and Jo jumping into the mud, the former disappearing below its depths while the latter, on his shoulders, held up the length of the hose. They started moving forward, and the camera panned back to the left to show Harold, Scarlett, and Chris holding up another length of hose.
"Yeah, I'll be on top," Harold stated.
"Pardon me?" Scarlett countered, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't trust you not to let me drown," Harold told her. "Self-preservation comes first."
Scarlett groaned. "That's fair," she said, taking the hose from Chris, "but if you let me suffocate, I'm dragging you down into the mud with me."
"Crustal," Harold deadpanned, and as Scarlett crouched down, she jumped onto the brainiac's shoulders. Scarlett stood back up and put the end of the hose in her mouth, and she jumped into the mud.
The tense music faded away as the camera moved onto Chris, the host sighing as Chef walked up. "You think the mud was a bad idea?" Chris asked. "It's a little quiet… oh yeah," Chris said as if in sudden realization, "almost forgot about the Peanut Gallery. Bring 'em back in!" he said into a walkie talkie he only then pulled out.
Moments later, the wind kicked up around them, and the camera zoomed out to show the large helicopter flying in with the former contestants still hanging – and screaming as they swayed ominously – below it. "Would you let us down already?!" Leshawna shouted angrily. "It's freezin' up here!"
"Yeah, I want to cheer for Zee!" Julia chimed in.
"If I wasn't tied up right now, I'd have half a mind to pound you!" Duncan shouted at the host.
The camera focused on DJ. "Hey, Chris?" he looked forward and asked loudly. "Just bring us down before anybody else gets miffed at you!"
"No, and I don't care," Chris answered with a calm smile, until Chef whispered to him. A flat note played over a close-up of Chris staring blankly at him. "Huh...good point," he admitted. "Ooh!" he said with a sudden grin. "I just had an idea!"
A flash took the scene to Zee and Jo, the tense challenge music resuming at a low volume and slow pace in the background. They were still slogging through the mud, Zee out of sight but Jo only submerged up to her stomach. She looked back over her shoulder, smiled, then said "Keep going!" into the piece of hose she was holding. "They're way far behind!"
Confessional: Zee
"So as it turns out," Zee said, "being submerged in the mud is kinda like being trapped in the dark. But there aren't any animals below to scare me."
Confessional Ends
The music ramped up as Jo suddenly stopped moving, then seemed to turn around and start moving back towards the start. "Uh, Fruit Loop?" she asked into the hose. "We're going the wrong way!"
The camera cut to Harold, looking somewhat bored as he held the hose atop Scarlett's shoulders, before noticing the other team and frowning. "Why are they coming this way?"
"Ugh! They're too safe to sabotage each other!" came the sudden voice of Chris McLean, the camera cutting to him standing in the show's jeep with Chef at the wheel, speaking into the microphone of the jeep's loudspeaker. "Deploy the 2.0 model!"
The shot cut back to Harold and Jo as they looked around with strange expressions, the sound of something like a rocket taking off coming from somewhere in the distance. They looked up and to the left, and the camera shifted to their viewpoint to show a large object shooting up through the sky overhead...
...then abruptly diving towards them, revealing itself as a red-eyed robotic bear with small jet engines coming out of its back. Harold and Jo screamed as their respective partners continued in their previous directions, getting out of the way as the Bear landed in the mud. It hit with enough force to cause a wave of mud, which shot all the way across the puddle carrying the finalists and their helpers along for the ride. All four immediately began to cough upon landing in a muddy heap.
Confessional: Harold
"At least I have a better shot," Harold said. "We're tied right now, but who knows what other tricks Chris has up his sleeves."
Confessional Ends
A close-up of the nozzle of a fire hose in Chef's hands preceded him blasting the muddy finalists and helpers with water, all four screaming where they'd landed on the shore of the 'puddle'. Moments later, the water was shut off, leaving them drenched but clean.
"We're all tied up," Chris announced with a smile. "Perfect time for a little break. First, let's bring in the Peanut Gallery again." He took out his remote and pointed it at a patch of ground nearby, a hole opening up in it and a rather shoddy-looking set of stadium seats shooting up out of it with the ten former contestants seated – and still tied-up – in it.
"Sha-finally," Lightning said, the shot cutting to him sitting in the top row with B, DJ, Duncan, and Max and Leshawna, Ella, Julia, Sammy, and Amy in the bottom row. "Are we gonna get to watch the rest of the challenge now?"
"Yup!" Chris answered with a happy smile, pressing the button on his remote again so that a large widescreen television emerged from another hole in the ground near him and the finalists.
"Will you untie us too?" Ella chimed in.
Chris huffed. "Whine, whine, whine," he said in annoyance. "Don't I do enough for you kids as it is?"
"No," all fourteen of the season's cast members replied at the same time.
A flat note played over a close-up of the host pursing his lips. "Yeah, I owe Chef twenty bucks about that," Chris said, the camera zooming back out again to show the finalists and helpers. "Everyone, grab a seat," he instructed, and the four reluctantly sat down on the logs lying behind them. "I'm gonna show you some of my favorite clips from the show..." He pointed his remote at the TV, and the shot focused in as it switched on and started to play footage of a confessional...
"Dunderhead was already pretty useless," Jo complained. "But now he's making moves on one of the actually decent players on the team? Not on my watch!"
The camera cut in close to show Jo pausing and looking back. "Something on your mind, Anti-Squeakerbox?" she asked, the camera shifting to show B peering at her and shaking his head.
“It's not what you think it is," Jo told him. "As long as they are on this team, Julia and Zee will not date."
“Not exactly how I wanted the elimination to play, but hey. Julia’s gone and with Zee still in the game, I could manipulate him into doing whatever I say,” Jo grinned.
The footage paused, and Chris leaned out in front of the television with a wide and mischievous grin. "Seems like there isn't a shipper on deck…" he said impishly.
"So you were trying to keep me and Julia apart?" Zee said as the camera moved to him and Jo, his eyes wide with shock. "Does this mean that...,"
"Yup. I convinced Julia to quit," Jo replied. "I didn't expect her to fully go through with it since I was gonna vote you out!"
"I can't believe you'd try and do that!" Zee said with a glare!"
"If I didn't do what I did, then you two likely would've blown challenges for us like the dueling one!" Jo argued back.
The camera focused on Julia in the Peanut Gallery. "I was trying to defend my boyfriend, but sure," she said dryly.
"I'm just worried what Chris is gonna show from Scarlett," Sammy said. "It looks like he wants to mess up the finalists and their helpers..."
"Maybe he won't show anything?" Amy suggested. "I mean, it's not like Scarlett and Harold were that close to begin with."
The shot cut back to a smiling Chris. "Oh, don't worry, I have no intention of leaving those guys out of all this fun," he said happily.
"I don't see how," Scarlett said. "Harold already knows everything about me now. I’m practically an open book."
Chris laughed. "Seems you forgot that the cameras are always on. So here's some more juicy information that everybody gets to hear." The screen on the TV went from static to a scene from the fifth episode.
Scarlett herself grabbed the dueling stick Ella retrieved, fished an electric eel out of the water, and tossed it to Max. "Max!" she cried, and her teammates looked at her in confusion, prompting her to pretend that she had coughed. "Pardon me!"
“The plan was for Max to be the only one not in the trap, so the team would know he built it and vote him off!” Scarlett confessed.
"I overheard Leshawna and Harold's conversation when they were foraging together, and Leshawna being on to me is something that I refuse to let happen," Scarlett claimed. “Zee's really gullible enough to deceive, and I'll try to talk to Ella.”
A deep, dramatic note was struck over a shot of Harold in shock. "So it was you who got Leshawna eliminated!" he scowled in Scarlett's direction.
"I wasn't ready to come out just yet, and between the two of you, you were less likely to warn anyone about me!" Scarlett retorted.
"So all this time, Scarlett was aiming to usurp her master!" Max ranted.
"I don't blame her," Leshawna commented. “As much of a pain as she is, I would've done the same thing and sent your annoying behind home.”
"Okay," Chris said happily as the shot moved onto him, "I'm sensing some major hostility and I'm liking it. I'm out of popcorn, though, so we should probably get back to the challenge."
"Seriously?!" the finalists and helpers alike exclaimed.
"Obviously, the helpers aren't gonna be very helpful anymore," Chris replied. "So, instead of helpers, Jo and Scarlett will now be hinderers." As he spoke, Chef walked back into view with a pair of video game controllers, tossing one each to Scarlett and Jo. "The island is now back online," Chris continued, "and, with these controllers, they will be able to throw up obstacles to throw you down, or, completely crush you."
The shot cut to Scarlett as she looked at her controller and smirked. "Good to know."
"Looking forward to it," Jo said in determination.
Harold and Zee gulped, and Chris laughed. "That was the good part," he said. "Let me tell you the bad part. You have ten minutes to finish this challenge," he told Zee and Harold. "If neither of you do, Scarlett and Jo get to split the money."
"Dude, what?" Zee said in shock.
"You can't do that!" Harold protested.
"I can! I will! I am! GO!" Chris announced, blowing his airhorn right in Chef's face, earning an annoyed sigh from the man. Harold and Zee immediately ran off, but the camera cut to a close-up of a thoughtful Jo.
"Well...I want the money, but I'm not really comfortable with how this is set up," Jo said to herself. "But...I guess it wouldn't be too bad if I just made this a little more challenging for them..."
"Do what you want," Scarlett said, the camera panning over to show her grinning darkly with her controller in hand. "I'm getting my justice."
Confessional: Jo
“And I thought I was an underhanded person,” Jo mentioned to herself. “Velma has less morals than me and Gnome Master.”
Confessional: Scarlett
"I was snubbed in the last episode," Scarlett confessed. "And now that I've been given permission, I can stop the finalists from winning without getting electrocuted!" She pulled out the remote from the seventh episode. "I don't even need this device. I have a controller to do the job for it."
Confessionals End
A few quick drum taps opened up a deep and dangerous challenge theme, the scene returning to Zee and Harold sprinting across the open field only to gape in shock as the pine trees in the background starting launching like rockets.
"What the heck?" Harold said. "Rocket trees?"
One landed right behind them, forcing both finalists to roll forward out of the way. "This island is wild!" Zee cried as the two continued running, more and more trees landing behind them like massive spears.
The two were shown together in a brief close-up, raising their eyebrows in surprise. A quick-pan ahead revealed the landscape changing, trees and rock formations rising up out of the artificial ground to form a large, dense barrier.
Harold jumped ahead of Zee as they climbed over the first big rock formation.
Zee vaulted downward and dashing forward along a lower 'path' among the rocks. Just as he was about to jump down onto grass, however, a boulder shot upward – and he landed on it groin-first. A close-up showed him letting out a high-pitched squeal of pain.
Harold's wince drew the camera's attention back upward to show him leaping from a boulder and grabbing onto the branch of a tree, only for the tree to suddenly shoot back down into the ground – causing him to yell as it dragged him down and slammed him back-first onto a fallen log.
Zee gave him a quick concerned glance as he jumped onto the same log, then upwards onto a rock formation before climbing onward and to the right and out of sight.
The scene cut back to the hinderers, both still working their controllers with Scarlett still looking considerably happier about it. "No need to change what works," Jo said uncertainty.
"What happened to that cutthroat attitude you've been displaying?" Scarlett asked. "Don't throw it away when I can get something out of it. And lower some of those trees. They're giving them too much cover from this storm I'm whipping up."
The camera panned onto the monitor to show Zee and Harold struggling against a powerful wind as they walked through what looked like a dense forest as leaves, dust, branches, and various small woodland animals blew past them.
A focus on the monitor's screen transitioned the scene back to the challenge. "I think...I can see the finish line in the distance," Zee said, pausing for a moment as he struggled against the intense gale.
"They're not making this easy on us," Harold commented.
The pair briefly passed behind a thick and mossy pine tree, the camera zooming in slightly as they reappeared. "Would you?" Zee asked.
"...I guess not," Harold answered after a moment.
The shot cut back to the Peanut Gallery to show them watching with worry and anticipation. "C'mon, Harold," Leshawna spoke. "Just hang in there."
"I know you can win this, Zee," Julia said. "You deserve it after everything."
Then the camera cut back to the hinderers, Chris standing next to their monitor with his hands behind his back and a smile on his face. "Ooh! They're getting close!" he said excitedly, prompting Scarlett to scowl and Jo to frown.
Once more the scene moved back to the finalists, their arms raised to buffer themselves against the winds – snow beginning to fall and lightning beginning to crack in the background - with Harold in the lead. "Two minutes left!" Chris called out over the island's loudspeaker. "Two minutes!"
"I...," Harold said with glee. "I think I can make it!"
"Not if I can help it!" Zee shouted, speeding up as the dense trees around him and Harold began to recede into the ground – and the tense and dangerous challenge music resumed. "If I win, me and Julia can go out and change the world together."
"I have to win this," Harold told him. "I've been undervalued and looked down on by my peers, friends, and even my family. I need to prove my might."
The snowy ground below their feet began to crack. A hollow sound played, then all at once, the ground shot up under them, earning startled yells from both. The shot soon cut to the new peak they were standing on rising up into the sky, then stopping.
"Drats..." Zee muttered, both finalists looking down with wide eyes. his final word echoed as the camera zoomed out, revealing the snowy mountain they were now at the top of.
The Peanut Gallery was shown gasping, as were Jo, though Scarlett was smiling as their misfortune. "Twenty seconds left...!" Chris said as the camera moved on to him looking at his watch.
The shot cut back to Harold. "I guess it's over," he sighed. “Scarlett wins after all.”
Zee noticed a bulge in the snow beside him. The boy shoved his hand into it and pulled out the phone Duncan stole from Chris. "I don't know how this got here, but we have to get down. Start stomping the ground."
Harold nodded and stomped on the ground at his feet, and after a few cracks, Zee hurled the phone down, breaking the device apart. Their eyes widened as the mountain began to crumble under them, and the ground imploded in on itself.
"Six! Five!" Chris began to count off, the music cutting out save for a single plodding note to highlight each number. "Four!" The camera panned onto the television, showing both finalists tumbling through the snow and rock. "Three! Two! One!" The shot cut to the finish banner, then zoomed out to show the avalanche stopping just under it – with neither finalist in sight. "GAME OVER!" he announced, blowing on his airhorn as a subdued but triumphant riff played.
Jo stood up in surprise, and Scarlett started cheering.
"My mission was a success!" Scarlett said in victory. “Now hand over my well-deserved prize!”
"Congratulations Jo and Scarlett," Chris said with his usual smile. "Revenge is sweetest-" he glanced at the monitor- "ohhhhh, what have we here?" he said with a sudden look of shock, the music cutting out as he pointed at the television screen.
A sharp note played as a familiar hand stuck out of the snow lying just past the finish line and waved. Scarlett's jaw dropped in shock, and Jo let out a sigh of relief.
The scene cut to the finish line, the camera pulling back a little ways as Chef walked up with a stretcher, dressed as a female nurse. Leshawna ran onscreen and pushed him out of the way. Chef flew off frame with a shout, and Leshawna grabbed the arm and pulled, freeing a shocked and snowy Harold from the aftermath of the avalanche. "Oh," he groaned, looking around as Leshawna dropped him on the stretcher, "what happened?" he asked as the victorious music began to play again with much more enthusiasm.
"You won, Ginger Baby!" Leshawna answered with a smile, the camera pulling out even more to show Harold looking back at the finish banner.
"I did it!" Harold said excitedly. "Harold Norbert Cheever Doris McGrady V has claimed victory! Boo yah!" he raised his arms and cheered, the shot cutting away to show all of the Peanut Gallery cheering.
“We weren't able to talk to each other as much, and it's clear we like each other as more than just friends, but how about we hang out a little bit back home and see where things go?” Leshawna suggested.
“As long as we don't rush into a committed relationship, I'd like that,” Harold smiled back.
The camera panned to the left to show Julia frantically pulling a dazed and half-conscious Zee from the rest of the avalanche, and picking him up onto her back.
"Julia," Zee said weakly, "I'm sorry that I-"
"Be quiet," Julia said with a weak smile as she carried her boyfriend over to the stretcher and set him down next to Harold. "You need to rest."
"But-" Zee tried to say.
He was cut off by Julia grabbing his head and kissing him full on the lips. "You didn’t win the money, but we can still provide for the world in our own ways, and with the power of love," she said with a smile as she broke the kiss, leaving Zee looking dopey.
The capstone theme began to play as the footage skipped ahead to a shot of the open sky, the double-rotored helicopter soon flying up into view. "That's it for this very, very off season," Chris began, standing in the open doorway with Zee and Julia sitting on the edge letting their legs dangle freely with Julia leaning into Zee; Harold and Scarlett standing on either side of Chris, the latter annoyed and the former grinning while holding the suitcase full of money to his chest; and the rest of the cast, crouching down and peering over in the gaps between and behind the rest, constantly jockeying for position as they tried to get one last shot of themselves on camera.
"This is Chris McLean, saying if you can't stand the pain-" the handsome host continued, the shot cutting in closer- "stay off the Total! Drama! Paaaahkitew Island!"
"RE-VENGE!" Max suddenly yelled from behind Scarlett, shoving her out of the helicopter, and the brainiac screamed as she fell.
The camera lingered on the dumbfounded looks of Chris and the other ex-campers, all of them staring at Max in shock. "This is how a traitor should be rewarded," he said, crossing his arms and closing his eyes defiantly.
The ex-campers and host burst out laughing, and a fun and energetic tune started to play. The camera panned over to the windshield to show Chef laughing along with the rest of the cast from the pilot's seat, and the helicopter flew away.
The music soon faded away, though, and the scene quick-panned down to show a screaming Scarlett landing in the giant mud puddle. She quickly surfaced with a shocked splutter, and pulled herself out onto dry land. "How am I going to get home now because of those imbeciles?!"
A few ominous notes were struck, and a ferocious growl caught Scarlett's attention. She looked up, and the camera zoomed out to show Scuba Bear 2.0 standing over her, eyes red. "Heheh," the brainiac laughed nervously. "You're not going to hurt me are you?"
The scene abruptly cut outward to the full long-distance shot of the island, the ominous music ending as Scarlett's scream and Scuba Bear's snarl echoed across the lake.
(Roll the Credits)
Lightning - 14th
DJ - 13th
Amy - 12th
B - 11th
Julia - 10th
Max - 9th
Leshawna - 8th
MERGE
Jo - 7th
Duncan - 6th
Ella - 5th
Sammy - 4th
Scarlett - 3rd
Zee - 2nd
Harold - 1st

[ First / Previous ]
Memory Transcription Subject: Hileen, Krakotl Fugitive Recovery Agent
Date [standardized human time]: November 28th, 2136
It'd been a while since I sat in Marlig's office for a talk face-to-face. Given the agency's secluded location at the edge of the downtown region, it was a chore to drop by when it wasn't for business, but I'd deemed the matter at hand to be worth my time.
I passed by Nampi at her desk on my way to the door and she gave me a coy glare as I carried on. Trying to ignore her risible ear waggle, I turned the corner to the door with my boss’s name painted on the glass panel where I could hear the frantic crumpling of paper.
Quietly, I entered Marlig's office without prompt as I knew he hated to be spooked by knocking. My mentor was surprisingly spry for a bird at his age, sorting through papers with one wing and an eye while using his talons with the other to set away the papers he had splayed out.
“Hileen!” he chirped. “Glad you could make it in today. I was just finishing up my paperwork. Take a seat.”
It was always nice to hear him drop the professional motif for a more grandfatherly attitude when speaking in person. I did as he suggested and took a seat while he grumbled to himself over the sorting. My eye caught a few of the old contracts he was rifling through and saw that some dated back to his days as an agent.
Eventually, he left some sitting out as he sequestered the rest back into their files, sorted by a dichotomy that only he and Nampi could comprehend fully. He motioned with a wing for me to peruse and I turned the first one to face me to find it was my first contract, signed by me in a sloppy fashion. “This takes me back a couple of years.”
“Slick bastard thought he could get away on a forklift but you showed him! Certainly more exciting than my first day!”
“Mm-hmm. And it was when I nearly got impaled that you had the idea to commission all of us utility vests.”
He chuckled, “I really should’ve done so sooner. Cuts and scratches were already a risk, but a forklift was a new one!”
I flipped through the pages of each report, finding that Marlig's notes were filled with praises of my work. There were highs and lows, but I was flattered to find that the grizzled krakotl held my performance in such high regard.
“Flawless interception!” read one footnote about me catching a runner. “Couldn't have done it better myself!”
Marlig waited patiently as I browsed quickly through each page, realizing more and more how the notes also marked improvements in my work. How I found it easier to talk down a rowdy client, or apprehend them in the case that they were beyond helping on my part. Flowery language plastered most pages with him fawning over my work as a doting father would to his prodigal child.
The trend took a sharp turn as the notes became fewer and more critical the closer the dates reached to the present. I brushed the others aside with a wing to peruse the final paper. “And this…”
“Is Tac. Your latest contract. The most recent in a line of declining performance since the interview. This has become a pattern, Hileen, and its consequences are beginning to reach beyond yourself. Paji and Vesek resigned recently for personal reasons, which leaves us even less hands on deck than before. That's four people to cover the entire municipal region, and maybe even beyond, should needs arise. Three, if we include this little probation I have you on.”
“What was I supposed to do? Marlig, these ‘jobs’ you've got us working on overstep the contracts we were signed on with. Our job is to make sure people obey their court-mandated duties, not drag them off to the facilities ourselves!”
“... So the trip we took to the facilities did bother you.”
A sigh clicked in my throat as he reminded me. “Is that what happens to the people we take in, Marlig? Is that what would've happened to your wife?”
His feathers ruffled.
“That's what happens to those who are too dangerous to the general public to be left roaming free. Not everyone we deal with winds up there, but everyone can be subject to it. Miskela sued for her exoneration and proved in court that she was not diseased. I brought you there to show you how it helps the people, but I see now that it was a mistake. I understand why you were so perturbed, really, but it's how things have been for centuries. It's how we've protected ourselves from the dangers out there.”
“You were willing to let Barsul be interned there, too.”
Marlig flinched and sighed as he swept the papers towards himself once I'd signaled I was done. He turned one eye to me while he sorted them.
“There's no room for favoritism, girl. I negotiated for him to be allowed to walk free, and look where that got me. That boy - your neighbor - suffered the consequences of my nepotism. So too would the girl, had nobody intervened.”
“Like Richard.”
“The human, yes. Or you. Or the police. Where does this sudden obsession with humans come from, anyway? I get notifications of you talking about the acceptance of them all the time on forums.”
“Does it even need explaining?”
“Well, I guess not, no, but it's certainly an about-face from the way you used to talk about them with me beforehand.”
“People can change, for better or worse. Which one I fall under remains to be seen.”
Marlig stroked at the plumage on his neck as he finished his sorting. “I hope it's the former, for your sake. Was there any reason you came to talk, or were you just checking that I hadn't gone senile?”
“Well, I was hoping to borrow your secretary for the evening.”
He perked up while his eyes narrowed and he laced his fingers together with curiosity. “You… want to spend an evening with Nampi?”
“It's not what you're insinuating, but yes.”
“I was insinuating nothing,” he warbled coyly. “Go ahead and take her, and make sure to split the bill at dinner.”
“Pain-in-the-ass geezer. I'll keep in touch if your friend causes any more trouble.”
“Keep in touch regardless. Miskela and I get lonely in our old age,” he called back. “Take care.”
I stepped out into the hallway and turned toward the desk where I could hear the secretary's claws tapping furtively at her keyboard. Nampi sat silently with her ears and tail in a relaxed position that implied a bored demeanor. There was barely any response as I stood before her, waiting politely for her acknowledgment that never came.
Hesitantly, I cleared my throat.
An ear raised in acknowledgement, but her focus remained on the screen of her computer. “Mhm?”
“Do you…?”
Her ear rotated toward me, though she still maintained a passive attitude as she continued to glare mindlessly at the monitor.
“Are you free this evening?”
“Well, I'm quite booked, I believe. Why do you ask?”
I was surprised at her curt, dry tone. She hadn't spoken with me like this since we first got to know one another.
“Well,” I started. “I realized something. Every time we went out, whether it was clubbing, or dinner, or even walking around the parks, you always footed the bill. And so…”
Slowly, her other ear perked up and I saw her keystrokes slow down as she listened in.
“I wanted to return the favor?”
Her lips smacked as she opened her mouth, though paused before she spoke. “How could you possibly do that?”
“With a little gesture of friendship.”
Nampi's horizontal pupil turned up toward me and her tail twitched.
I continued, “So that belt you're wearing? It's the same belt you've worn since we first met. And I know you're the pragmatic type who'd never spend a credit more than she needs to, except for all the times you do"- her ears twitched in indignance -"I wanted to see about getting you a little something… extra?”
Her paws raised from the keyboard and she leaned in, resting her snout on her palms. “Go on.”
The bubbly venlil's tail sold out her collected facade as it twitched with anticipation. She was cornered and she didn't even know it yet.
“Well, I found just the place on the other side of town where we can start. It's a place almost as rich and indulgent as yourself.”
“The Platinum Paw? I mean3”
Her ears folded back in embarrassment as she cracked. She wasn't cut out for acting anyway.
“So that's what it's called! Jeez, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was called. Now what do you say? We go over there and find you something nice—”
I hadn’t even finished my thought before Nampi had grabbed her bag and was out the door, giving me a playful tail flick that said come and get me.

The place I suggested was in a shopping center on the opposite side of town, though easily accessible because of its proximity to the transport rails. Nampi had insisted on grabbing something to eat beforehand and so now gleefully bit into a bundle of stalks that had been “grilled” as explained from the food truck we'd stopped at.
Her tail flicked back and forth with her usual enthusiasm as we entered the massive complex of stores. The roofless plan allowed the natural, orange sun to flood the upper levels while artificial lighting illuminated the ground level wherever the light couldn't reach.
The place was built in the last decade by the previous City Magister in a bid for popularity, though ultimately for naught as he would lose the vote following a scandal involving an iftali priestess and a carved bar of soap. I had to say that despite being sick in the head, he sure had a great sense of decor.
Nampi snacked away, joining me in admiring the scenery as we continued to the place I’d planned out for us. Aimless chatter all melded together into a single, thrumming murmur as pedestrians navigated the many levels and stores offered in the place.
A troupe of children passed by us, held in a chain of tails and arms as they were escorted by a pair of venlil who I assumed were students and teachers on a school trip. I caught a whiff of a sweet, aromatic breeze and found it to come from a perfume shop on the same level as us; naturally, venlil were not to be found inside.
We passed a fountain where a couple sat on the edge, their tails twined together as they giggled and flirted. I turned and caught Nampi watching them as well, though she awkwardly returned to sucking the remains of her meal from her claws when we made eye contact. Her ears lifted when I raised a wing to signal to the store we were going to stop at first.
“Platinum Paw, The Greatest Fashion Emporium For Everyone!”
The title alone was painfully cliche, taken to the tenth power by the brightly lit store taking up three department slots. Despite the flashy exterior, though, it was the best place to shop for belts, brooches, and bracelets alike. Customers who looked like they earned my yearly salary in a week browsed the higher end brands while I brought my friend to the section I wanted to show her.
Her ears were held up as we stood together next to a shelf chock full of fashionable bags and bandoliers of every variety.
“Pick one,” I told her.
Nampi's ears shot to a straight pose in surprise, “Any?”
“Within reason. I've got a few extra credits to blow and I know nobody better to spend it on.”
With an inviting headtilt, I let Nampi peruse the shelves at her leisure. Her lips pursed together and her tail flicked with glee as she fingered at every piece that caught her eye. I chuckled at her outburst of enthusiasm while turning to find my own items to gloss over.
A breeze from outside nipped at my beak while I considered what I’d like to purchase. The place dripped with an atmosphere of faux hospitality, from the bright blue-stained floorboards to the radio prattling off advertisements in a sickeningly sweet tone to the faint, fruity aroma of scented cleaner. It was oppressive as only a fissan-owned company could be to the senses.
What I wouldn’t pay to see how a human would fare in such an environment.
I knew they were social creatures at least, but I had no doubt that the predatory senses of a human, so honed to hunting, would get overstimulated in this center of gaudy indulgence. Knowing I was something of a predator myself made me sympathize provided that even I had to squint to keep the pale lights inside from searing my eyes. I could only imagine how the arboreal eyes of a Terran would fare. I was so lost in thought imagining how lost the Terrans would be that I could almost ignore the obnoxious giggling and metallic rattling coming from behind me.
Risking a peek at the source, into my sight came a pair of venlil, one a male carrying a pair of bags as well as a couple more strapped to his belt. The bored expression in his eyes was not one of a man who was in high spirits. The other venlil was a woman who was the source of the noise.
Her mottled gray pelt was accented by a tasteful belt design, free of almost any practical functions but not flashy or excessive in garnishment either. At least, that’s what I would say, were it not for the braid of beads that dangled on the belt, jingling with each bounce of the lively woman’s stride. It was clear that such a gaudy accessory was intended to draw attention to her, though why was a mystery. Certainly, the shiny braids seemed designed as decoration first and practical second.
She turned about and I faced back to my browsing before she could catch me staring. Nampi was nowhere in sight, though I figured she was somewhere behind the shelf, sifting through every accessory on the section I'd suggested.
Clink.
Something pelted to my immediate right. I tilted my head to spot a tree nut shell clattering to the floor. Without being able to guess where it came from, I had to wonder what could've launched it over this way. Even with my keen eyesight, nobody in the crowd seemed to be a suspect.
Clink.
Another shell pelted my vicinity, ricocheting off of the floor and hitting the shelf I was standing next to. I ruffled my feathers in frustration - clearly, someone was trying to get my attention, though I couldn't make out who it was. Out of the corner of my vision, the woman from before eyed me curiously as I looked about, though I wasn't interested in engaging with her.
Thwack.
One more shell came flying and, unfortunately, the aim on this one was true, nailing me on the beak. Irritated, I stormed out of the store to find the source of the instigator. I scanned over the bodies to find anyone who could've been responsible for this indignity, eventually concluding that it came from the dining area across the walkway.
Whoever was responsible was in for an earful and I was already structuring which of the offender's family members would be acceptable as fodder for stray words. As I approached, I found the tables were mostly empty save for one, which made my heart begin to drop as I met eyes with the only occupant. Suddenly, I was much less inclined to hurl insults.
“Oh, hi there!” Qitel called out in a sickly sweet tone. “Come, take a seat! We have much to discuss!”
The Exterminator clutched a bag of tree nuts in his claws, a pile of discarded shells already gathered on the table next to him. He grabbed another as I approached, effortlessly prying the shell in half between two claws and tossed the contents into his mouth. “Good protein, these,” he commented as I sat down.
“Must be for that good arm you've got there,” I mumbled. I caught sight of a couple of bags beneath his chair, seemingly from one of the tech stores contained within the center.
“Bah, it's guesswork. So how are you? I haven't heard from you since we worked together!”
“I was just spending time with a friend, shopping and enjoying my time off.”
“Your time off? Oh, am I interrupting something?”
His snide tone irked me, though now wasn’t the time for interjections. “You are, Qitel,” I replied with no shortage of vitriol in my tone. “But I see no harm in chatting for a bit.”
“Good, because I have some merchandise”- he reached into his belt pocket and deposited a couple of items onto the table -“and you’re just the person to look into it, human sympathizer.”
I drew a terse breath in shock, but my worries were quelled when I considered that if Qitel had the power to do anything about it, he would’ve done so instead of approaching me so discreetly. A glance down at the item on the table showed that he was presenting what looked to be a tracker as well as a personal drive. “Found in the garbage,” he told me.
“The guild resorts to dumpster diving when they already have such a bloated budget now?”
“No, featherbrain, I have decided to keep this for myself. These items were found together, sealed in a plastic pouch, and placed in a garbage bin. The city has bans against electronics being placed into public bins, and so I was curious why this wound up in there. Managed to get my coworker, a techie, to crack it open and…”
Qitel reached into his belt again, glowering at me with the same condescending gaze he’d given me when I first saw his face. He seemed to revel in digging for the item as slowly as possible to waste my time. Finally, he found whatever he was looking for and revealed it as a printed piece of paper, folded into eighths. The snobby yotul threw the unfurled paper on the table and rolled it toward me.
I craned my neck to look at the parchment, though I was immediately perplexed by the text on it; it appeared to be some sort of form, going by the boxes with words on the inside, followed by blank lines. “Found on the drive, here,” Qitel told me, jabbing a claw to the storage. “Translator shows it as Terran writing.”
Drawing my holopad from my satchel, I held it over the paper with the translator to get an understanding. Surely enough, the language on it came up positive as a variant of Terran writing and I was affirmed in it being a form of some sort based on the wording of the text. The boxes seemed like an odd sort of job application, asking for the typical name, contacts, and prior work experiences, but quickly took a strange turn as it began asking for where their home on Earth was prior to arrival, what family they had on Venlil Prime if any, and where they worked, implying that they were seeking individuals who were already employed.
I knew little about human employment methods, but I didn’t imagine that sourcing individuals from other jobs was the most efficient way to gain a workforce. Terran service industries already dotted the planet while many humans also found work in local environments. So what was the angle that the creator of this application was going for?
Most concerningly was that the paper had no insignia, identifying marks, or noted address to return the form to. “And where did you find it again?”
“In the garbage, alongside this intact tracker that was activated at the time of recovery. Y’know, when I was dumpster diving. Text on the document showed it was addressed to one ‘Choctaw Nexus’.”
“A pseudonym of some sort?”
“Clearly. Short sorting through the archives shows the first name traces back to the group out east - perhaps you've heard about them. How the name and the items we have here are connected is beyond my understanding, but-”
“Well, this has been an absolutely riveting discussion about your collection of trash, Qitel,” I told him as I stood up to leave. “But this really sounds like an issue to be resolved by your fellow guildsmen.”
The sound of another shell splitting rang out as I turned away.
“I'm not through talking with you, predator.”
The sting as a piece nailed me in the back of the head prompted me to whirl back around, sticking my beak in the insolent yotul's snout. “Perhaps you've forgotten, little man,” I cooed in an equally bittersweet tone to the one he gave me before. “The krakotl never had a problem with settling issues the old-fashioned way before the interview. Try me and find out why I'm in the line of work I am.”
“Oh, we wouldn't want that in such a"- he waved his paw to a group of passersby who had stopped to gawk at my display -”public forum. Please, contain yourself.”
I had to force the feathers on my back to settle and I raised my head away from him. “What else is it you wanted, then?”
“Well, I'd appreciate if you took this merchandise off my paws,” he told me as he brushed the electronics and printout toward me.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you're closer to the humans than I'd ever care to be, and may be able to find out who this Choctaw Nexus is. Something about the package just feels… off. And I know when to trust my feelings. Besides, we both know that you know where Tac is, don't we?”
“I don't-”
“We have videographic evidence that you conspired with a human - of the aforementioned squatters, no less - and let the kid escape. You're not as sneaky as you think, and if we find this ‘Choctaw Nexus’ turns out to be a bad actor that can be traced back to them - and by extension, you - well, there’d be no talking down my boss from having you dealt with. By helping me find out who this is, you may yet be able to clear your name of any wrongdoing.”
I clenched my beak tightly to maintain a straight face. Qitel stood up with a flourish and discarded the bag he was carrying in a bin.
“See, the krakotl were never special for using threats and bullying to get results. It's because you were good at killing predators,” he jeered. “Now, if you don't mind, this primitive has appointments to attend to… old lady who got trampled courtesy of the humans and all. You stay out of trouble, Hileen, and stay in touch.”
The self-assured marsupial melded into the crowd in a matter of seconds, leaving me with a table containing dumpster trophies and a pile of shells. Reluctantly, I swept the shells into my wing and dumped them into the bin before gathering the other two items he'd left me and stuffing them into my bag. I'd been gone from Nampi long enough and she would notice my absence before long.
Crossing the walkway again, I could spot from where I stood that Nampi was indeed still in the Platinum Paw. I approached, and soon I found that while she didn't seem to have noticed me stepping away, she was definitely in a soured mood based on the sagging of her ears and tail. With my talons clacking on the floorboards, I hustled to her side and her mood chippered up ever so slightly as she heard me approach.
I chimed in, “Find anything?”
“Everything. I want everything, Red, and I can't decide on what I want. They all just look so great!”
From behind, a voice called out, “Nampi!”
We both jumped at the exclamation and turned about to spot the venlil lady I'd seen before spring from behind the shelf. The man poked his head from behind the shelf too, though less enthusiastically and with yet another bag in his clutches. My friend's eyes widened in surprise with her tail and ears perking up in kind. With a light in her eyes, she exclaimed, “Nalek!”
The two embraced with shrill squeals and laughter as Nalek's accompaniment and I traded awkward glances.
“It's been too long!”
“You never stayed in contact!”
The women exchanged giddy greetings and the pompous stranger turned to me, leering over me as though she was sizing me up.
“Who's your friend here?”
“Oh she's actually my-...”
Nampi paused for a moment, looking back to me.
“Yeah, she's a friend.”
“A friend,” Nalek repeated while her eyes flicked between Nampi and I. “Right.”
Somehow, I get the impression that that was judgemental.
“I'm Hileen, by the way,” I chirped, “if names are to be exchanged.”
“Hileen, that's a lovely name! And such plumage to match, it's a wonder you aren't swarmed by suitors!”
Internally, I groaned at the notion. The idea of being approached by someone to state their interest in me made me queasy, to say the least. Thankfully, I never had that issue growing up as most of the other drakes in school were too busy chasing girls who didn't have a lousy pigmentation mutation such as myself.
“I'm flattered,” I told Nalek before turning to the man whose name had yet to be introduced. “May we get your name?”
“Sask.”
His response was succinct and tonally flat, though there was a brief silence as I expected him to elaborate. Nalek's beads jingled as she lashed him on the calf with her tail.
“I'm Sask, Nalek's fiancée,” he added, throwing her a look to see if she was satisfied.
Nampi gasped with her paws over her snout. “Fiancée! Nalek, you're getting married and you never even told me!”
“Well, I felt a little guilty since it technically broke our pact we made when we were pups. You remember that?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? ‘Let she who bonds through betrothal first be cast out unto the world for all to admonish her!’”
Sask and I both gave inquisitive expressions. “You two spoke like that as pups?” Sask asked.
“Well, I'm paraphrasing,” Nampi admitted with a playful ear waggle. “But you get the gist.”
“Indeed, they do, sweet Nampi. Now, may I ask what you're doing bringing your avian friend here into this store on this fine claw?”
“Oh, no no, she's the one treating me! Isn't that right, Red?”
I saw her tail twitch and was sure it took restraint not to tickle my neck with it as we stood before her old friend.
“She's been a good friend,” I explained. “So I wanted to reverse the roles for once and treat her to something myself.”
Nampi skipped over to me and wrapped her arm around me, glancing back to her old friend. “See? We'd all be so lucky to have a… friend like her.”
“So I've witnessed. But perhaps you're a bit stuck, as I've seen you prancing up and down these aisles for a while, no? Maybe you don't know what you want?”
“Nalek, you know I've never been good about making my mind up.”
“Some things never change, you ditz. Tell you what: you and Sask go find us a seat and we can catch up all we'd like when we're not taking up aisle space, yes? So shoo! I'll help Hileen here pick one out for you!”
With a bored grunt, Sask made off with the goods he had strapped to himself, followed by Nampi who gave me one more playful tail flick before dashing off into the crowd. I looked back to the mottled snout of Nalek who watched her friend wander off with a wistful glance.
“She was my first, you know.”
“Your what now.”
“Love. Way back when we were growing from pups into young adults back in private education, we explored much together. We saw each other through a lot, including the less savory parts of finding a mate. When Nampi realized it wasn't the boys she was into, she turned to me, and I offered my hand as her stalwart companion… to a point.”
“You weren't interested in her the same way?”
“I'd grown up seeing her as a sister of sorts, so ultimately, when we split it off, we stayed close as friends and she never seemed to be bothered by it. She struggled to find others in school who had the same interests as herself, but she never fussed about it.”
Nalek's claws browsed over a set of pouched bandoliers made with intricate embroidering. “Have you two… spent the night together? Alone?”
Spiritually, I reeled from the inquiry. The whiplash from that question was equitable to being smacked by a human. “Wha- why? How's that pertinent to the subject at hand?”
“That sounds like a ‘yes’ to me,” she purred with a smug glance my way.
I didn't need to begin to list the different ways such a question was violating to our privacy, and yet this woman was treating it like a game.
“Not really your concern, ma'am.”
Nalek chuckled as she picked out one of the bandoliers and inspected it with her claws. “I'd like to think that she and I still have that old connection, despite everything. And to that end, I know that she's no slag and doesn't trust easy. To see her be so vulnerable around you and to talk so highly of someone who's clearly below her income level as a predator…”
She stretched the bandolier out to appreciate the design in its entirety.
“Well, that's something special. Here"- she foisted the accessory into my wings as I stood gobsmacked -"this just screams her name.”
“This is, like, double my budget.”
“Love don't come cheap, darling. You wanna see good things happen, sometimes you've gotta step out of your comfort zone and grasp for it!”
“I'm being lectured by a rich woman on finances.”
“It's a philosophy that goes beyond money, ‘Red.’ The humans have a saying, in their horrendously predatory nomenclature, that contains a kernel of truth: ‘you miss every shot you don't take’.”
Yep, that's definitely a human phrase.
Nalek's steely braid rattled with every flick of the tail as we proceeded through the checkout.
“You want things to change between you and her?” she continued. “Don't just wait for it to happen.”
She let the conversation rest there as we finished the purchase, possibly to let me recuperate mentally from the damage done to my account. Outside, we found our respective partners sitting at a table with Sask looking up in boredom as Nampi chatted away, though she immediately shut up and turned to me with excited flicks of her tail as she saw what I was carrying.
I held it toward her and she happily shot to her feet, effortlessly removing the tags with her claws and clipping it to her belt. Nalek clapped and waggled her tail as the giddy lady did a whirl about to let us admire the accessory. While I'd have preferred one with pockets to give it a more practical use, I decided to let Nalek have the victory as our mutual friend clearly enjoyed it.
The rest of the paw was a blur as the two friends chatted without end until Sask eventually reminded his betrothed that they had a schedule to attend to. Though Nalek offered to call us a taxi home as a gesture of kindness, I saw through her ruse to determine that she was trying to pull a fast one on me - the clever ear flick she gave as we boarded the automated vehicle sold it for me.
We sat in the seats as the vehicle took the express ride home.
Nampi cleared her throat before she spoke, “Thank you for taking some time to spend with me, I know you've had a lot less free time as of late.”
“It's a prison of my own design, if I must be honest. A feedback loop of working a job that doesn't guarantee a paycheck to pay for rent that keeps going up, and thus needing to work more.”
The venlil giggled and chided me, “You really should've stayed in university.”
“There's a lotta 'should haves’ that've led me to this point. No use wondering what could have been.”
“There's always a use for wondering what could have been, Hileen.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“Every decision I make, I always wonder what I could've done differently that it'd have turned out better,” she explained as she waved her free paw to the sky. “It's how you grow as a person, Red.”
Her silky pelt felt heavenly in contrast to the chilly air from outside, making it hard to let her words sink in.
“You rich types seem chock full of philosophy. I wonder if I'll become a brooding orator when I get some cash to my name.”
The cab filled with laughter as we veered around the final corner to my neighborhood, as it was the closest stop. The door popped open accompanied by a chime from the drone, signaling for me to depart.
But before my talons could even hit the pavement, I felt Nampi's scrawny arms wrap around my waist and she let out a pitiful mewl again.
“You don't need to get off here,” she told me with a pouty expression. “We can spend the rest of the paw at my place.”
“I'd love it, but I need to water my plants and get the month's bills sorted before they're due. Again.”
One claw at a time, I plucked her paws from around my waist and the childish venlil conceded, giving me another ear waggle as I departed. “I'll see you tomorrow?” I asked her.
“If you still have eyes by then, then you can bet your ass!”
“I still don't gamble.”
“You'll come around to it eventually.”
I shut the door to the taxi and watched as it carted away the one venlil who I ever truly felt on the same wavelength as. Fiddling with the lock felt like more of a chore than usual at this time as I felt a little voice tugging at the back of my head.
“You miss every shot you don't take.”
The lock felt jammed as I began to jiggle it more vigorously with the electric key. Either the RFID or NFC readers were messed up, as the lock refused to accept my key. I looked up and down the street, though Nampi was now long gone for me to rescind my earlier rejection.
“Every decision I make, I wonder what I could've done differently.”
The door rattled as I grew more and more infuriated with the lock. Qitel's smug expression as he threatened me so boldly in public played back in my head, and I wondered what would've happened had I decided to go through with insulting his mother. Better yet, I wondered what could've been had I not backed down in the face of his unflinching confidence.
Bzzt. The lock rejected my key again.
“Raagh! You fucking useless hunk of junk!”
I squawked in anger and kicked against the door, careless of the consequences of having Markol back down here to admonish another of his tenants for causing a ruckus. The walls were surprisingly sturdy for how ineffective the venlil architecture looked on the surface and I reeled back in pain as my leg throbbed.
Click.
I looked to my left to see that it wasn't my door that came open, but that of the twins. The door cracked open ever so slightly, no doubt nudged by the force of my tirade and I sighed. Nobody was expected to be home at this time, with Vili being away and Luka leaving early to get a head start.
Luka had been given a stern talking-to by the landlord for allowing one of those cats into his apartment through neglect, and I was disappointed that he seemed to have not learned his lesson this time. In fact, it seemed he hadn't even thought to lock the door this time.
I took it upon myself to shut the door for him before turning back to my own apartment door. Grasping the key with one talon, I turned it ever so gently, though the lock still refused to give in.
With a bit more force, the torsion applied to the key felt as though it should've snapped it by now. Markol sure didn't waste any expense for the security for this place, doubtlessly as a result of his history in electronic security, but I wished now that he had provided a way in that didn't rely on privately sourced locks.
Considering my options as I stood trapped outside, I realized that I had never gotten around to paying for a new lock for Tadi. I'd considered contacting her to inform her that Tac had made it out of town safely, but that'd involve also telling her that her son was now in the care of humans, as if that was a better outcome to her.
Stepping out front, I realized that there was one more option I hadn't considered: my window. I usually forgot to lock it after I was through letting air circulate and I was silently grateful to myself for this absentmindedness now more than ever. Sticking a foot on the threshold, I lifted myself in a way that'd allow me to have leverage to force the window open.
The window made me fight for every inch, but I felt a strange satisfaction as it slowly opened up into an entrance that I could squeeze my way through. I let out a sigh as my talons clicked against the cool floor and slid the window shut.
I laid my satchel on the couch and turned back to the door, ready to unleash my fury on the disobedient object. But as I reached for the lock to manually open the door, I noted that the lights on the RFID interface both flashed at once, blinking erratically. Red and green flickered without rhyme or reason, indicating that it was both active and inactive.
As pretty as the colors were, I now knew that Markol's locks were not as reliable as he had touted them about: typically, such would not occur unless the device was damaged deliberately, and yet nothing indicated that I'd had uninvited guests. One could pray that those cats didn't secretly know how to cobble together an ECM jammer, but my personal wager was on faulty equipment.
Settling in, I browsed my favorite soaps on the television. For what was intended to be a day of relaxation and show of affection for a friend, I found myself rather wound up over all the things that added up. Couples threw around flowery words and swooned over one another on screen as I felt the tension diffuse. My holopad rang and I turned it over to spot that Nampi was informing me that she'd arrived home safely.
>>> Feels empty here, all alone.
She made sure to drive the point home with a sticker of a venlil making a pouty expression.
Next time, I thought to myself, I'll get it right for you, Nampi.
[ First / Previous ]

I (22f) had a falling out about 3 months ago with my friend (who I'm going to refer to here as Dylan). We met during our second year of college and formed a really close-knit friend group on campus. Most of us met through one person or another, and we pretty much did everything together. It was also during the first semesters after the covid lockdown. There weren't a lot of people on campus, so we ran into each other a lot, being the only few people around. We had a bunch of game nights, movie nights, etc. Sometimes we'd even hang out at the tops of parking garages for picnics.
Dylan and I started to get closer, since we have a lot of the same interests, like Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel. We also just found it really easy to open up and talk to each other. I told them a lot about my personal life, including some traumatic experiences I had growing up. They shared some of their hardships with me too. We had very different things happen to us in our lives. Even so, I felt like we developed a strong bond and an ability to tell each other anything and everything. I don't know if this might sound weird or corny, but I think of the first half of our friendship as being a lot like the song "Loser Baby" from Hazbin; We each have some bullshit that we carry, but being able to have that general issue in common (who could emphasize with having a lot weighing on you mentally) made me feel less alone. I had someone to lean on for support to keep moving forward.
Dylan wasn't the only person I had a strong, emotional connection with though. Around the same time that our friend group started, I met my boyfriend (24m). He and I are still together, and I feel incredibly lucky to have him. Over the last three and a half years, we've developed an open line of communication and developed a signifcant amount of trust in each other. Even as a long distance couple to start, we always made time for each other to meet up on weekends or call throughout the week. And we still do. And even during bumps im the road, we're very upfront about our feelings, we take fault when we fuck up, and we talk through what we can do to resolve the problem. And we BOTH follow through on what we discussed.
About a year and a half into my friendship with Dylan (which again, was also a year and a half into my relationship), they admitted to having feelings for me. At the time, Dylan said they wanted to come clean about it in hopes that putting it out in the open would help them move on, so to speak. This probably should've been my first red flag, but I repressed the feeling. I didn't want to think that my best friend was trying to break up my relationship. I convinced myself that they genuinely just wanted to get it off their chest because it was killing them to keep such a secret from me.
From that night on, our friendship was very rocky. We tried giving each other space, but being in the same friend group made it difficult. We also didn't want to tell anyone besides a few people. I was especially worried that airing it to everyone could create an even bigger mess. This meant that there were times when one or both of us avoided our other friends altogether out of respect for each other. Which only made us feel more alone, resulting in us hanging out even more to make up for how we felt. I was also very open about the situation with my boyfriend. He was very understanding, more so than most people would probably expect. He knew that we were very close before their feelings were known to me. And he trusted me that I knew what I was doing when trying to maintain the friendship.
As the situation went on though, Dylan's feelings didn't fade. In fact, they seemed to worsen. Our friend group is generally very touchy-feely. By that, I mean we frequently say "I love you" and hug. Some of my friends have even kissed each other on the cheeks or foreheads while we were tipsy/drunk. Sometimes, we would also say "I love you" to one another with platonic feelings behind it. At least, that's how I viewed it for a while. There were some nights, when Dylan would be really upset while talking to me about how hard it was to move on, how guilty they felt because they couldn't help but hold onto hope that I might one day mean "I love you" in a romantic way towards them. They even admitted to holding some anger and resentment towards my boyfriend. All of this, looking back, should have been signs to leave the friendship. I know that now. But for some ungodly reason, I was so convinced at the time that there was still something like a friendship to glean from this. They conveyed guilt and remorse for their feelings, so surely that meant things would get better?
I thought that when I graduated and moved back home, things would get easier. After all, we wouldn't be able to see each other all the time if I had a job and lived a good hour or two from where we went to college..Right? We'd be able to focus more on ourselves. And we could still keep in touch via phone calls or texting if we really missed each other! This is when I started to really notice all that was wrong in our friendship. Our venting in regards to mental anguish and stress became more self-loathing. Admittedly, on both sides. We started talking more to each other about our issues in a venting-while-deep-in-our-emotions sort of way with no balance between that and trying to suggest solutions. Sometimes, I'd try because there were certain things Dylan would tell me about that I knew were beyond the help I could give as a friend. But when I even remotely suggested things like therapy, for instance, they would get very defensive. They said that they tried it years ago and had a bad experience. At the same time, they would also acknowledge that professional help could, hypothetically, be beneficial to them..?
I don't remember exactly when it started, but there were a couple of times while texting where Dylan would just lash out at me. They'd question me for staying friends with them. They more or less told me I was stupid because I was putting myself through so much by being their friend. At one point, I lashed out in retaliation for texting me about their woes only to get mad when I tried to help. We had a conversation in person about one argument in partculiar. We both apologized and agreed to work on our communication with each other.
Some time passed after this. I realized at one point that I hadn't heard from them in a few weeks, which was strange because we had a habit of checking in on each other at least once of week or once every other week. I tried messaging Dylan a few times, but I didn't want to overwhelm them. I figured some time further apart might be for the best. As more time passed, I started to get more worried and decided to call them a couple times. Finally, they responded via text (this isn't everything they said. I cut some of it because it involved personal info):
"It’s not fair to keep you in the dark and it’s much too rude to keep doing this to you. I wish I could excuse it with the really shitty weeks I’ve been having so far, with most of my days being depressed, anxious or worse, and the good days being few and far between. It’s been the case but it’s no excuse for how I’ve treated you in this. Long story short, I’m ignoring you because I don’t want you to care about me anymore. I’ve been a lot more solitary recently and I’ve kept to myself a lot - I’ve realized that I let people in only to refuse to let them help me. But especially with you, because our situation is still complicated to me. I still feel like shit about you - how much I love you, and how much I hate you. I don’t care what your feelings are to me - it’s difficult for me to play around you. Whenever we talk, hang out, or fucking whenever I think about you, I get a twang of happiness and self-hatred. Every little thing I say becomes a mine I throw out in front of me and step on immediately, hoping it doesn’t blow up.... and I know you say what you feel towards me, but god fucking damnit you make it impossible to believe you sometimes - because it hurts to think about. You do, it all does. My constant overanalyzing of other people is one of the main things to send me spiraling. I’ve legitimately thought about cutting off from EVERYONE: so I can always stay stable without having to worry about plans that come out of nowhere; I don’t need to worry about what I say to people I care about; and I don’t have to hurt people I care about. Apathy, while it is a wretched thing, is the place where I’m at my best - playing sports, video games, or otherwise…it’s disgusting but it’s the way it is. I’ve never cared about a thing in my life and I don’t want to completely fuck you over when I eventually stop caring about you.
As I’m typing this, I know I’m dropping a lot of shit on you. There’s no quick answer to this but I wanted all my thoughts down in a way where I can spit it all out without getting sidetracked or interrupted. Idgaf if you read this all or not.... I wish I could say I’m sorry.
I know I may have said before that our friendship will last, no matter the circumstances…but I am, and always have been, the problem. That’s not coming out of a place of self-deprecation, that’s the cold, unfortunate truth.
And...I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. I've lost a lot of hope and I know I can't look to you for help anymore - because it brings me more misery than joy."
I had to read it a few times before responding. I didn't try to argue for the sake of our friendship. As much as I wanted it to continue, I knew it wouldn't be okay to force them when they were expressing a desire to separate. But in the same conversation, after writing this out to them, Dylan started to back-pedal. They suggested that maybe we should meet in person to discuss it more. Because there's "more that I didn't know about them". I immediately got suspicious and basically told them to fuck off; If they were done, they should just say it.
I was kinda angry at the whole falling-out for a while. Particularly how wishy-washy they seemed at the end after everything we'd gone through. I didn't know how to feel and I still don't now that I've started to miss Dylan. Or maybe the friendship we had before everything went to shit..? I also can't help but feel like I should tell the rest of my friends about it. But I don't know what they would do. Is it worth saying? Would it be too risky for the sake of our whole friend group? It's eating away at me. I feel as though I'm walking on eggshells every time I make plans with the friend group, because what if Dylan is there? What would they say to me, if anything? Is there anything left to say?

Summary

I competed for the first time at the USPA Drug Tested Emerald City Classic hosted by DOP Strength Gym in Kirkland, WA on May 18th, 2024.
Here's my Instagram post with videos of my third attempts and a photo with my participation medal (I was the only 110kg submaster male lifter).
I went 9/9 with no red lights, broke my gym PRs on squat and deadlift, and had an awesome time. I competed in the submaster 110kg class in raw full power, weighed in (24h before) at 105.7 kg, and totaled 545kg. I planned to take very light openers, big jumps for my second attempts (15kg for squat and deadlift, 10kg for bench), and then smaller jumps (7.5kg for squat and deadlift, 5kg for bench) for my thirds, and I stuck to that plan. All of my lifts felt great and moved fast except for my third bench, which was a little bit of a grind. My strategy paid off because I had a much more enjoyable day going 9/9 a little light, compared to how I would have felt if I had missed any of my first or second attempts--which I saw happen to plenty of other lifters.
The gym was a little crowded with 60 lifters in 4 flights but the meet was super well run, with good vibes all around. The meet director was super clear at the rules briefing and the spotteloader crew absolutely hauled ass and the whole meet was over at 3 pm. I also got to see several master's lifters set state and national records, including a 72 year old woman, so that was awesome to watch.
My friend and training partner, who is an experienced master's lifter and meet judge, showed up to handle me and that made a huge difference in my experience. He really helped me a ton with understanding the pace, timing my warmups, loading the bar, chalking my back, cheering me on, telling me when to rest, eat, hydrate, everything. He really did a fantastic job.

Prep

I took Steve DeNovi's free 3x Bench - Conventional Deadlift program and ran Block 3 and the peaking block (10 weeks), with modifications to the accessory selection and split to make it 4 days a week. My weekly split was:

• Mon: Primary squat, OHP, pull ups, bicep curls
• Tue: Primary bench, secondary deadlift (cluster singles), chest supported rows, face pulls, tricep pushdowns
• Thu: Secondary squat, paused squat, tertiary bench (Larsen press), lat pulldowns, DB incline press
• Fri: Primary deadlift, paused deadlift, secondary bench, bent over rows, lateral raises

I really enjoyed this program and got a lot out of it. I felt like the peak timing was just right for my meet.

Squat

Squats felt great in prep. My training max for the first block was 425 lbs and I upped it to 435 for the second block. I didn't feel like I under or overshot any of my prep lifts, my RPEs felt accurate.
There was a little confusion about whether squats would be done on a 25kg squat bar or a 20kg power bar, but they ended up using the 20kg Kabuki power bar. The knurling felt great on my back.

1. 170kg. The main thing in my head was to take my time setting up, which I did, and I think it helped calm my nerves. When I unracked, the bar tilted to the right slightly, but I was able to level it out as I walked out. Stance felt solid, got a strong brace, weight felt light and moved fast.
2. 185kg. Better unrack. Felt lighter than I expected.
3. 192.5kg. Beat my gym PR of 415lbs. My handler said my third looked like it moved better than my second. I felt a cramp in my right inner hamstring as I locked it out though, and it's feeling sore today. I felt in control the whole rep but I think I kinda dive-bombed it and went a little too deep and that over-stretched my hammie. Looking back at the videos, I think I rushed the descent on all my squats, even though I had been practicing a slower descent during prep. Something to work on cleaning up before my next meet.

Bench

I kind of wrote off bench for this meet since I made poor progress in prep. For the first 5 week block my training max was 265 lbs and I felt like I was undershooting, so I increased it to 275 lbs, but once I started hitting singles at 250+ they weren't moving well and my butt started coming off the bench. I fixed that issue late in prep by setting my feet further back. My left shoulder had also been bothering me a bit lately, plus I started getting some tennis elbow on my left from the bent over rows or something. So I went with attempts I knew for sure I could hit, and didn't get too excited for bench. I also really felt that bench was a natural "valley" between the peaks of squat and deadlift, in terms of the energy level of the meet.

1. 100kg. A gimme attempt just to practice the commands for real.
2. 110kg. This was the best bench single I've had lately--setup, foot placement, arch, unrack, controlled descent, pause, and press, everything felt solid and it went up so fast that my friend who was working the scoring table shouted "Put some weight on the bar!"
3. 115kg. Unrack felt great, controlled eccentric and pause felt good, got a fast press command, but I think my back slipped a little on the pad, which was kind of slick, and I didn't get enough leg drive, and forgot to cue bar path, so I pressed it straight up off my chest and hit a sticking point, then my back cramped up and my arms started shaking. I barely got it locked out. I originally wanted to aim for 120kg on my third attempt but now I'm glad I didn't because I for sure would have missed it.

I'm pretty satisfied with just getting 9 white lights on bench because I was so worried about my butt popping up or having a brain fart and jumping the start or rack command, and those things didn't happen.

Deadlift

Deadlifts are my best event (long arms) and the pauses and cluster singles in DeNovi's program really helped dial in my setup and make me stronger off the floor. Having access to a deadlift bar in training was nice, as the whip might have thrown me off if I had only ever trained on a stiff bar. Liquid chalk + hook grip + Kabuki bar = unlimited grip.
Toward the end of prep I changed my setup to get rid of my dynamic "hip pump" wedge and just sink straight into my starting position, set my hook grip, and just patiently "leg press the floor away." This change really paid off because it helped me get the most out of the deadlift bar and made my lockouts a breeze.
I was worried about the back cramp during my third bench interfering with my deadlift, but as I started warming up, my back felt fine, however I was feeling that third squat in my right hamstring. Thankfully the pain subsided once I got warm again.

1. 215kg. Felt light, as it should have, like a last warmup. Not much else to say.
2. 230kg. My handler said "earn your third attempt!" I executed my setup and pull exactly like my first attempt and was surprised by how fast it broke the floor and how easy the lockout was. I heard someone say "that's a good hinge!"
3. 237.5kg. I almost went for 240 but kept it conservative because I was worried about my hamstring. I kinda regret holding back now. I took a couple extra seconds to build up a really hard brace before methodically executing my setup. Just as the bar passed my knees they shook a little, and the crowd started cheering for me, but the bar didn't slow down at all so I knew I had it in the bag for 9/9 and just felt ecstatic.

A spectator walked up to me afterward and gave me a really good compliment--he said my deadlifts looked like a hydraulic machine!

Next steps

Now that this meet's behind me, my main training priority will be getting my bench up. I'm going to reevaluate my approach to frequency, volume, specific vs. hypertrophy work, and my diet.
For squat, I think I'll continue doing pauses and maybe add tempo descent work or something to break my dive-bombing habit because I don't want to pull a hammy with a heavier weight at my next meet.
My deadlift feels locked in, so I'm not going to fix what isn't broken. I want to work in some RDLs in my offseason since I haven't done them in a while, but that's it.
There's another USPA meet at the same venue in late September which is kinda soon but I'm really tempted to do it so I can go in more confident, open a little higher, set some new meet PRs, and get my money's worth with this USPA membership. It's about 17 weeks away now so that's enough time to have a few weeks of offseason before another prep cycle.

I got an invitation in the mail in a pretty purple envelope covered with flowers and shiny plastic gems. It was for a girls-only sleepover, something I'd never done before. At first, I was really excited, but then I saw that it was from Jane and Mary Bardell.
The twin girls were in my 7th-grade class. They were really quiet and rarely talked. Even though they didn't say much, you could still feel they were there. I remember sitting in front of them one day and feeling their quiet energy behind me.
The back of my neck started to tingle and feel hot. When I looked back, I saw Jane staring at me. Her deep-set dark eyes looked hungry, like she hadn't eaten in days and I was the meat dangling in front of her face. Mary also looked at me, and when she smiled, it almost seemed like she had fangs.
When they did talk, always in perfect unison, they sounded flat and without any emotion. But their serious looks and voices made me feel uncomfortable, and the room felt heavy. Luckily, they usually sat in silence at the back of the class.
One day, they just didn't come to school anymore and stayed home. Maybe their parents decided to school them at home. They lived across the street from me in a neat two-story brownstone house. Their lawn was well-maintained and protected by a sturdy five-foot iron fence.
The curtains in their house were kept closed tight. No light ever came out, even at night. But sometimes, on the second floor, a curtain would move, and I'd see the twins' pale faces looking out. We'd lock eyes for a moment before the curtain closed again.
After they stopped coming to school, some kids from our class started to go missing. First, it was Eddie, who vanished on his way home. Then Katy disappeared the same way. Both of them had walked past Jane and Mary's house before they went missing.
For some reason, I just had a feeling deep down that the twins had something to do with the disappearances. I even wondered if they were really human. Maybe they were vampires. Oh, yes, they were definitely vampires! It all made sense.
"You're going," my mom insisted at dinner when I told her I didn't want to go to the sleepover. I didn't see the point since I could sleep in my own bed. Why stay at someone else's house when I lived just across the street?
I groaned. "I don't want to go. They're so fucking weird.”
"Watch your language!" Both my parents warned me, giving me a serious look.
“It’s been difficult for that family,” Dad said, “The girls had to be pulled out of school because of an illness.”
“What kind of illness?”
“Their parents didn’t say what it was, but they said the girls would like to have friends.”
“Oh, those poor girls,” Mom sighed. “They just want to have a nice and normal sleepover party.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to go.”
“You’re going.”
And that was that.
I wasn't hungry anymore and left my dinner unfinished. I headed straight to my room and glanced out the window. I saw their pale faces peeking through the curtain in their second-floor bedroom. I closed the blinds and turned off the light. There was no way I was going to their house without something to keep me safe.
XXXXXX
“Your house is really nice,” I remarked, placing my sleeping bag and pillow on the floor. I kept my backpack close, making sure the crucifix I borrowed from my parents was safely tucked inside one of its pockets. I really hope my mom doesn't realize it's missing.
I was the only one who had arrived at the Bardell’s house so far. Mrs. Bardell opened the door and greeted me with a big, never-ending smile that looked like it was permanently glued to her face. Her teeth showed through the wide grin, and her lips were covered in a thick layer of red lipstick.
“That's really nice of you," she responded with a smile. “I can see why you get along with my girls.”
Mary and Jane, seated across from me, both nodded and chimed in together, “Yes, she's great, Mom. We're happy we invited her.”
“So, when are the others getting here?” I asked.
“What others?” Mrs. Bardell appeared puzzled.
“Tammy and Harriette. They said you invited them too, and they promised they'd come.”
“Oh, they're not coming anymore. They called just before you arrived to let us know,” Mrs. Bardell explained. Her big, dark eyes moved between me and the twins. “Okay girls, just sit tight for a bit. Dinner will be ready soon.” Then she went into the kitchen.
Fantastic! Just fantastic! Some friends they are. Traitors!
“They didn't tell me…” I mumbled quietly, feeling betrayed. I quickly checked my phone and texted Tammy: So you're just not gonna show up?
The message was stuck on “sending…”
“Don't worry about it,” the twins reassured me. “We'll still have a great time tonight!”
Their idea of a good time was putting on a skit they had practiced the last few days. The twins disappeared upstairs, only to return dressed in their costumes. Mary had on a gray hoodie that I thought I'd seen before, and I noticed a dark crusty-looking red spot on the sleeve. Jane sported a baseball uniform. Mr. Bardell, wearing a smile like his wife, joined in the fun. He was down on all fours, wearing a dog mask that looked surprisingly lifelike.
I sat still on the sofa, feeling completely weirded out.
As Mary ambled around the living room, her hood shielding her face and her hands tucked in her pockets, Jane and Mr. Bardell engaged in a game of frisbee. Mr. Bardell crawled around like a playful pup, zooming across the room and even leaping over the couch. Quickly, I crouched down to avoid getting hit. He then sprang to his feet, his arms bent like a dog's, proudly holding the frisbee in his mouth.
Mary stopped and glanced back. “Cool dog,” she said.
“Thanks,” Jane said, mimicking a man’s low pitch. “What’s your name, son?”
“Eddie.”
My stomach sank. That was the name of our missing classmate.
“Would you like to play with him?” Jane continued.
“I should really get home, my mom–” said Mary.
“One throw won't hurt, would it?”
“I guess not.”
Jane grabbed the frisbee out of her dad's mouth and passed it to Mary. The frisbee soared into the dining room and plopped right onto a plate sitting on the table.
“Oh! It flew into my house,” said Jane.
“I'm sorry!” Mary said.
“That's okay, my daughters are getting a kick out of watching us.” Jane pointed up. “Do you see them over there? Second floor, window to the right.”
Mary waved.
“They told me you're a friend of theirs.”
“Not exactly friends… I mean, we went to the same school. I haven't seen them around in a while though.”
“Why don't you come inside and say hi?”
Before Mary could answer, Mrs. Bardell popped out of the kitchen, saying dinner was served. All eyes turned to me, waiting for me to make the first move.
XXXXX
Vote on the character's next move.

First Previous
**Memory transcription subject: Xithan, … hungry Arxur**
*Date [standardized human time]: October 13, 2136*
Holding my gift, I let my eyes slide shut, the idle chatter between Cotton and Upsilta threatening to lull me back to sleep. I had pulled myself up onto my bunk, letting my back rest against the wall, with my tail wrapped around me. This was… pleasant. Calm. I could exist, without the sensation of suspicious eyes constantly on me.
I’m free.
A loud Cotton noise caught my attention– it had to be them, of course, as venlil did not make that same kind of boisterous… laughter, was it? My eyes lazily opened, and I looked to see the two of them sitting next to each other on Cotton’s bunk. The human was laying back on their bed, their legs nearly bouncing with the occasional wheeze between laughs. Upsilta’s face had bloomed orange, most noticeable around their eyes and ears. I wasn’t sure what I had missed, but… it was still odd, to see predator and prey so friendly with one another. Even with all I had seen recently, the Dominion’s teachings still came to mind, trying to tell me what I was seeing was a lie.
Of course, it wasn’t. My eyes couldn’t lie to me, and the Dominion had no power over me. Not here, anyway.
Heavy footsteps were heard at the doorway to the bunks, and Cotton’s laughter was stifled as the human shuffled to sit up. A stressed, exhausted face peered out, glancing across the room. The angry gojid tried not to flinch when she met my eyes, but she didn’t hide it well. Realizing I would have to take more care with my behavior again, I turned my head away, trying to avoid setting off her prey instincts.
Why… am I irritated by this? I’m used to adjusting my behavior around other for all my years–
You didn’t have to do it, a few moments ago.
“Krosa!! Ya changed your mind on the bath–?”
“NO.”
Cotton seemed to deflate at this, sighing before flopping back onto their bunk, letting out an annoyed noise. The venlil gave her a few ear flicks, and a content wag of his tail; probably trying to soothe her. Krosa let out an irritated exhale, before moving towards the human and venlil pair. Surprisingly, she had turned her back to me.
There they were, chatting again. The gojid’s voice was low, Cotton’s energetic as usual, and Upsilta’s, well, soft. Not as soft as his blessed fur, but still.
They paid me no mind as they chatted, and I enjoyed the feeling of sinking into the background. Not having attention on me was… pleasant. I rubbed my snout against my soft, red gift, content at how I was–
Growl.
I blinked, the silence of the room feeling entirely too loud following the rumbling of my stomach.
Hunger.
Looking up, I saw the gojid facing me, her spines up. The venlil seemed anxious as well, moving closer to their human. I couldn’t blame them. But it still–
“See?! How the hell are we supposed to– he eats FLESH, and there’s nothing for him on this shuttle–”
“Krosa.”
“I warned you this was what would happen if we took in a blasted arxur–”
“Krosa.”
“What, Cotton–?”
The tense back and forth made the air in the room feel thick, with the human seeming to get more… frustrated as the gojid’s ranting continued. Cotton looked at me for a moment, before looking back at the angry, prickly creature in front of them.
They’re going to tell.
“I have meat for him.” The fluffy-haired human firmly answered, a gritted stare watching as the gojid processed–
“You. You WHAT?!”
The incredulous rage nearly exploded out of the gojid, as she let out a frustrated snarl; to which Cotton stayed still, refusing to flinch.
“After– AFTER EVERYTHING! You, you brought meat?! And you think you can get upset when– when our kind calls you a predator, for this kind of shit–”
The tenseness of the human felt… odd, with how they normally were. Upsilta already knew of their secret, and didn’t seem angry; but still had an air of uncertain disappointment.
“There’s no changin’ what he can eat, Krosa. An’ I got something we can use to keep him fed without killin’ anything. Just need a sample–”
“NO. God– no, what the FUCK– I should have stayed in my room, you, you’re just–”
Cutting off Cotton, Krosa stepped away from the human and venlil pair, turning to give me a glare, before retreating from the bunk room. Upsilta hopped up from Cotton’s bunk, scurrying to the door and calling out to her. Cotton sat where they were, looking… tired.
“... You have, more meat?” I quietly asked, and the golden-haired human looked up at me, before nodding.
“Yeah. I brought, ah, two bags. I’ll give ya the other one… was hoping the first one would last ya longer, but…” They sighed, pulling their backpack towards them, and starting to dig. They pulled out another bag of dried meat, setting it next to themselves. I could feel my mouth water, and my heart skip a beat at the sight.
Food.
“Cotton?” A soft voice called, as the venlil returned– but stayed in the doorway, not committed to re-entering.
“Yea?” The human replied, still digging through their items; they’d laid out a few that didn’t seem to be what they were looking for.
“What… what did you mean, you have something that can keep… Xithan fed?”
Wait. What exactly did the human mean with this? Although I was fixated on the bag of meat rations, I pulled my eyes away to watch the human, catching the sight of them pulling out a cylindrical, metal object.
“Welllll… ah never told ya why I got, uh, kicked outta the program, did I?”
The venlil’s head tilted, their ears giving a confused twitch. Program - that must have been that human-venlil exchange program. Cotton could see my hunger, and made a motion to mimic… throwing the bag at me? I sat up straighter, and watched as the human effortlessly tossed the bag my way, right into my greedy claws. Unceremoniously, I tore into the plastic, digging out pieces of the dried meat and stuffing them into my gullet.
“So, ah… s’cause of this thing.” Cotton continued, gently tapping the metal cylinder. I glanced up, seeing Upsilta watching me, his fur puffed up, before forcing his gaze to his human.
“Speh, what… well, what is it? It.. it’s not a weapon, right?” The venlil chirped back, their tail swishing back and forth anxiously. The human let out a small laugh, their golden curls bouncing as they shook their head. “Nahhh, well. It ain’t a weapon to me, but… maybe to some of y’all, uh. ‘Prey’, species?”
I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. It… it was a little peculiar, having meat that was dried, but it still tasted good. It still satisfied my hunger. And I didn’t have to tear into a freshly killed gojid, either or eat those processed rations.
“Ah, well, the airport security sure as hell thought it was a weapon. Fuckin’ tool– wonder how long it took for his face to get fixed back up…” Those last words were nearly hissed, an odd glint in the human’s eye. A moment where they eerily reminded me of the humans on the Cradle– how on Wriss could they go from seemingly harmless, to something I’d hate to be on the bad side of–
You bit off two of their fingers. Was that not enough to be on their bad side?
I swallowed a large piece of dried meat. Apparently, that wasn’t the sort of thing that made Cotton upset. Whatever this ‘airport security’ did, evidently had made the human angry.
“–anyway, yea, this ain’t a weapon. S’a way for us to grow food.” The fluffy haired human beamed, looking towards their venlil for approval.
“S-so, no more rations?” Upsilta treaded, and the human let out an anxious laugh.
“U-uh, that’s the thing. It’s food… for me an’ Xithan.”
“... Wait, you mean–?”
“Meat.”
I had paused from my ravenous snacking, answer the venlil’s question for the human. Cotton looked at me, a gentle expression on their face. “Yea, s’right Xithan. Can make meat with this thing. Or, at least, duplicate a sample–”
“Sample?!” Upsilta squeaked out, and Cotton nodded. “Yeah, but hell, I’m fine with doin’ it–”
“NO.” I growled, my tail giving an irritated whip. The human looked at me, seemingly… hurt?
“.. Aww, c’mon, I’m fine with cutting out a piece, it wouldn’t even hurt–”
“Human, did you not hear me before? I would rather starve than ever taste human flesh again.”
The human sighed, rubbing their hair with their good hand. “Listen, I know it wouldn’t taste… the best, but, hell, I’d be willin’ to do it. The thing needs a fresh sample, it doesn’t really like dried or older ones for some reason–”
“I do not care. I refuse to eat your flesh– it was foul, rancid, and made me contemplate just giving up meat and dying.” The growl of my voice grew louder, and Cotton seemed unwilling to back down despite it.
“Fine, maybe… ah, fuck, I can hunt somethin’ down there–”
“Do you really think the gojid will entertain that?” I hissed, my heavy tail smacking against my bunk. “What about the venlil–?”
“Xithan, his NAME is Upsilta. And– shit, I don’t know, I’d just figure it out. There’s enough space on this damn ship to hide a carcass somewhere–” They were frustrated, but it didn’t matter– I would rather starve than taste that disgusting flesh ever again. What, by the prophet were humans made of, that tasted so wretched?
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Cotton set down their ‘meat generator’ on their bunk, before standing. The height difference wasn’t that much, but it seemed to make the human feel better. “Ya only need a lil sample– it can only make a little bit at a time, and it always needs fresh samples, but dammit, it works–”
We were at a standstill; my stubborn refusal, and their inability to back down. I opened my maw once more to remind the human–
“... I’ll do it.” Came the soft, reserved voice of the human’s venlil. Cotton’s face went a shade paler, and they whipped around to look at their exchange partner. “... Upsilta?”
The divinely fluffy venlil gave a gentle sway of their tail, meeting the human’s gaze for a moment, before looking away. Cotton was crouched in front of them, their hands grasping the prey’s shoulders. “... You don’t, you don’t have to do this, s’okay, I’ll figure it out–”
The venlil raised a paw to touch the human’s injured hand. “... You gave enough, already. Plus… he already said he wouldn’t eat your… flesh.” A gentle whistle of a laugh followed that, and then the human was gently holding the venlil’s face, their voice… strained.
“Are… are you sure? I don’t… I don’t wanna ask this of ya.” I couldn’t see their expression, as their back was turned to me, but I could safely assume it wasn’t a happy one.
“It’s… not like you will be able to catch anything in space. And.. Xithan is right; Krosa would probably have your head if she saw you with something you… hunted.” Another paw came up, giving the human’s hand a reassuring pat, before laying their paw overtop it.
I could easily eat venlil meat. Although, it would… clearly be a bit of a sacrifice, having to give up small amounts of their own flesh.
What prey does that?
One that isn’t afraid, clearly.
And one that doesn’t think you’re a monster.
“... I can, ah. Take the sample. I’ll do everythin’ I can to make it as… quick as possible.” Cotton breathed, their shoulders seeming to slump. They evidently really hadn’t wanted their venlil to have to do this. They… cared about him.
A cream-colored fluffy tail gave the human’s side a reassuring tap, before the venlil lifted his head to meet the eyes of the worried predator in front of him.
“I trust you.”
~note: crazy right? and some of you though we wouldn't come back (we still don't have backlog please be patient)
Side story following agent "John"
credits to SpacePaladin15 for the universe: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/u19xpa/the_nature_of_predators/

I believed in fairies as a kid. More than believed in them. I think something terrible happened to me, and I've just buried it until now.
Call me a typical emotion-bottling man, but I have never considered therapy. No matter what I went through, no matter how many times I thought to myself, verbatim, that I should talk to someone about this, I just never thought of it as an option. It simply wasn't on my roster. It was just one of those things that existed on a separate plane of existence than I was living in, never to cross paths or interact lest the universe collapse in on itself.
I have no problem with therapy, don't get me wrong. It isn't like I don't understand the overall appeal. I have plenty of friends who swear by it, swear it has helped them tremendously, including my wife. It just wasn't ever something I thought was in my cards.
"I just never really thought about it," I told Alice one evening, when she had brought the topic up once again after dinner.
There was a serene sense of peace wafting through the entire house that day, and I was feeling content. It was a Sunday, and swimming season, so we had dropped Emmie off that morning at the public pool for practice and gone straight to our favorite breakfast place. The rest of the day was filled with all the conversation that had built up over the week, all the topics we couldn't fully dig into with each other while babysitting our eight year old, and lounging, all crammed in between sporadic bursts of housework and paperwork we had to catch up on. It was the perfect day, in my humble opinion. It was a lovely moment of peace in the midst of a chaotic life, as is life with kids. And now the sounds of Mario Kart drifted in from the living room, Emmie's squeals cutting through the cheery music every now and then, causing Alice and I to share small smiles of acknowledgement.
Oh, to be a child again. Still a little drenched from a post-swimming shower, full of chili, eyes glowing with the reflection of a television screen.
"Well, maybe you should." My wife was scooping leftover chili into a Tupperware with a ladle. Her hair had been tied up like it was every day after dinner, as if she planned to run a marathon rather than do the cleaning up. She wasn't looking at me, dialed into the task at hand.
It's crazy how some parts of my memory could be so good, and others nonexistent.
I reached over from where I stood before the dishwasher, sliding my arm around her waist. She gave me a look, like, what?
"I just don't think it's for me, babe," I muttered, resting my mouth on her shoulder as if I was trying to skip her ears and speak right through her skin. "You know those things make me uncomfortable sometimes."
She let out a half groan, half sigh, setting down the container and the ladle and turning to face me, draping her arms over my shoulders.
"Everything makes you uncomfortable, John."
I smiled, letting my hands fall to her hips. I knew her frustrated act was just that, an act, at least for the most part.
"It's good for you," she continued pointedly, reaching up to tap her pointer finger against my forehead as I swayed her back and forth to a nonexistent tune. "Like medicine. And I know for a fact there are some things you need to work through."
I feigned offense. "You think I'm some kind of nut job?"
"Everyone needs therapy," she snarled, pulling out of my arms, but she didn't resist when I reached out and drew her back in. "Not just nut jobs."
And that was how most of those conversations went. Some got a little more heated, ending with a lightly slammed door (so as not to wake our daughter) and a whisper-shout of "this is why you need therapy!"
I feel I'm making it sound bad, but it wasn't. Even our more serious fights never quite felt like fights. They felt like playing. We were like two cats, biting and tackling and swishing our tails, but never baring our teeth to hiss. I never felt genuine, full-bodied anger towards her, and I knew she felt the same. It sounds sappy, but we were just very in love. I sometimes felt that we had never actually left the honeymoon phase.
I'm also making it sound like that conversation was incredibly common, and it wasn't. It came up maybe once every few months. I knew she was just looking out for me. She knew me better than anyone.
We had met through mutual friends, and we had initially bonded over our terrible childhoods. We both had moms who were out of the picture, and over emotional, over compensating dads, although this manifested in vastly different ways. Alice's mother left her father for a D-list rockstar type, following him on his state wide tour. She would sometimes send Alice letters or postcards from the road, although her dad wouldn't always let her keep them if they seemed to be stained with blood or seemed to have made contact with any strange white powders.
Her dad coped with anger. He never laid a hand on her, but his shouting and the sounds of glass bottles smashing against the walls kept her up almost every night. During the days he'd take her out, buy her things, go mini golfing and bowling and to the movies. Anything to seem more fun than her mother.
My mother passed away on my seventh birthday. She was driving home from work, which was at a law firm half an hour away from our house, when it began to rain. She was texting my dad her ETA when she ran a red light and a semi truck T-boned her, completely obliterating her car.
After that, everything changed. My seventh birthday could've been my twenty-first. At night it was the worst. I remember sitting with my dad as he cried, curled up in a sobbing ball on the filthy living room carpet, whimpering like a kicked puppy. He would scream and wail so loud the walls shook. He would say, over and over as if I wasn't hearing him, sometimes mumbling and sometimes shrieking, "She was cut in half. I'm sorry sir, she's gone. No, there's no chance she survived, she was completely cut in half."
The days were almost worse. During the day, when he could decrease the helpless wails into weeping at the very least, his attention turned to me. He tried to get something out of me, almost silently begging me to break down with him. Every other second it was, "How are you feeling, son? Do you understand what's happening? You poor thing, you must be devastated, your mommy is gone... Don't you want to cry?"
But I couldn't indulge, and I didn't want to. I had to wash the sheets, because he'd pissed them again, and I didn't want him to sleep in it and smell like pee when he took me to school the next day. I had to vacuum the carpet, so the next time he curled up on it and begged God to take him too, when he finally stood up, his cheek wouldn't be caked in crumbs and dust.
I don't know if I ever truly mourned. My mother's death was more like an absence, as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and carved a chunk out of my side, or snipped off a limb. I could still feel her, I could still talk to her, but all I got back was a deep ache and a crushing silence.
I hated how people reacted when I told them my mom was dead, and had been since I was a little boy. I hated the looks on their faces when they asked how she died, and when I told them. How their mouths fell open dumbly and their eyebrows twisted and contorted in sympathetic horror. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," they said, as if there was vomit rising in their throats, and I wanted to say, "Well, you fucking asked, didn't you?"
Alice never reacted like that. In fact, she never really even asked me what happened. We were on our second date, nursing beers while leaning against the pool table a a dingy speakeasy, when she told me about her own mom. It was the first time in a long time I actually felt like the conversation was open, like I could respond and she would listen and care, but not too much. Not an uncomfortable amount. When I told her about my parents she didn't say anything, and her pretty face didn't contort. She leaned over the corner of the pool table and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand.
The day she found out she was pregnant, we promised each other to be better, to not let our child ever have to grieve alone or feel the very specific hopeless terror that only a parent can cause.
So maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe I should have gone to therapy the first time she brought it up, the first time she told me how it had helped her get through her own terrible memories. But if I'm being honest, I didn't think I had anything to get through. I had left it in the past, I had coped so far in my own somewhat crooked way, I didn't want to dig any of that back up. I didn't want to be put back in that place where I was expected to talk, to cry, to open up. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it.
"I was always the therapist," I would say to her with a crooked grin. "And I like it that way."
Then, the dreams started.
I could tell you I don't know what triggered them, I don't know why it was now. But that wouldn't be the truth. I know exactly why I started to remember.
At first, they were brief. Nightmares that I couldn't quite recall or explain, waking up disoriented and a little sick. The rest of my day would feel strange, like I was surrounded by a thick fog. Eventually, they started to wake me up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming, scaring the shit out of my wife. Once I ran to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet. That was when the word "therapy" came up again.
It feels like I've been in a coma for twenty years, and I'm just waking up now.
It's so strange how different the world looks to a child.
I believed in fairies as a kid. Laugh it up if you want. When I turned four, my aunt brought me this book - we've all had one, I think. It was one of those huge hardcover books filled with information about something mythical, with little patches of fabric to simulate a mermaid's scales or a dragon's claw.
Mine was about fairies, and it was so real to me. My mom would sit up with me later than she probably should have, reading to me, placing my hand on the textures to feel. I wanted to know everything about them, I became obsessed, and naturally, my parents played along. They bought me toys, books... every year I had a fae themed birthday cake, and any kid who dared to giggle behind their hands weren't invited to next year's celebration.
When I was old enough to use the internet, supervised of course, I began further research. My mom helped me navigate Wikipedia first, and they had plenty of information to sustain me for a while. My interest turned from wings and magical powers to different types of fae from every corner of the earth, mushroom rings and their alleged distaste for iron. While I still wasn't very good at reading, I would just look at the pictures until she got home from work.
When my mom died, the fairy memorabilia began to amp up. My aunt bought me new books, gave them to me wrapped and tied with ribbons with tear filled eyes, and my dad brought them up whenever he thought I needed comforting and felt strong enough to leave the house. "Wanna go look in the forest for fairies, son?"
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I began to worship the fairies. I was convinced they lived in the forest behind my house, just behind each tree I looked at, hiding from me. I would spend my weekends escaping into the woods with a bucket and a cheap pair of binoculars, positive that this time, this day, I would see one.
At night, when my dad finally passed out in his own puddle of tears and other bodily fluids, I would pray to them. I never believed in God, we weren't a particularly religious family, and besides, I had seen what good He had done for my dad thus far. But I believed in the fairies.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
They never answered.
Until they did.
It was a Friday. I remember now, I'm not sure how I could have forgotten. After school I had sprinted into the shade of the trees before my dad could stop me, gripping the hem of my shirt in my fist, the thin fabric bearing the weight of two handfuls of the shiniest silverware and most colorful buttons I could find in our dusty cabinets.
I had a plan that day. I was going to lure them to me.
My path began in a clearing where I thought a ring of mushrooms may have begun to grow... but even without that, it was just the perfect spot for fairies. I could picture them flitting between the trees, chirping to each other happily, picking wildflowers to weave into flower crowns.
I walked backwards all the way back to my bedroom window, dropping another item every few steps. When I got inside and looked out my window, I could see my trail of shiny things curve through the overgrown grass in our backyard and disappear into the trees.
I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. Tonight, surely, they would come to me. They would show themselves, and they would help me. But after another few late hours of coddling my father, finally convincing him to drink some water and get in bed, I was exhausted. I completely forgot about my plan. When I got to my room I collapsed on my mattress, not even bothering to undress before I closed my eyes.
Then I heard it. The scratching.
I opened my eyes. The moonlight shining through my bedroom window casted strange shadows across my ceiling, shadows of the swaying grass and the creaking trees.
It was strangely silent, other than the sound. Usually there was lots of noise, or at the very least a few crickets, but not tonight. Tonight, I realized, I couldn't even hear the wind.
I sat up slowly, as if in a dream, and looked toward my window. I couldn't see anything out there, nothing glaringly obvious at least, that could be making that noise.
The scratching turned to a tap. Tap tap tap, like a fingernail against a glass. It had a playful air to it, like someone was saying, look over here!
I stood, rubbing my eyes, and stumbled over. The tapping stopped abruptly when I got to the window and peered outside, out to the dark yard, pitch black if not for the moon's glow. The grass didn't sway, the trees didn't creak. I frowned and unlatched the window, sliding it up above my head.
I was right, there was no wind. Not even a gust. Everything was still outside, like it was frozen. I actually started to believe it was frozen, that time had stopped completely somehow, before I saw it.
My trail of silverware and buttons. Sparkling softly in the moonlight.
Disappearing.
It began where the path met the trees, curving off where I couldn't follow it anymore. A fork disappeared right before my eyes, right on the edge. Just vanished, as if someone who was invisible had picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket very quickly.
Then another went, a spoon. Then a particularly large gold button. Whatever was taking them was doing what I had wanted, it was taking my bait, it was coming to me. And it was as if whatever had tapped at my window had wanted me to see this, wanted to show me.
But something felt very, very wrong.
This wasn't how I had pictured it. There was no twinkling, tiny winged thing at my window, winking at me before dashing back into the safety of the trees. There were no secrets being whispered in my ear, no fairy dust or promises of better things.
Something about this wasn't right. It felt like a mimicry, almost a mockery, of what I had imagined. Like something was trying to give me what I wanted, but was rusty at it.
I didn't want this anymore.
My stomach twisted and my hands shook as I pulled the window back down slowly, watching more glittery things disappear from the grass, growing closer and closer. As soon as it was closed I quickly locked it and pulled the blinds shut, turning my back to the window as if something would happen that I didn't want to see.
Nothing happened. The deafening silence continued for a few seconds as my ears strained to hear anything else happening outside. Then the wind picked up, and the sounds of crickets, muffled by my closed window, filled the night air.
I don't remember when I fell asleep that night, I just know I felt unnerved and jumpy for a while. I woke up the next morning feeling guilty. Had the fairies really come last night? Maybe they had come to talk to me, to bring me gifts, favors, and what had I done? I had closed my window on them. I felt ungrateful. Why had I even been scared? Because it was dark outside? What was I, a baby?
When I opened my window and peered outside, I gasped. The trail of silverware and buttons was completely gone, all the way up to the last one, which I had placed on my windowsill. In its place was a shoe. I didn't know what kind of shoe it was, but it looked sort of nice, fancy. I remember smiling out the window as I opened it, as if they were looking, and taking my gift.
How could I forget that night? How could I have forgotten what happened after? I feel crazy, either like I made it all up or like I've made up everything since then, like my life isn't truly my own.
I remember telling my dad. I remember saying, "Dad, the fairies came last night!" and the absent smile he gave me.
Until I showed him their gift. The shoe. Instantly his face went pale and he snatched it from my hands, staring at me as if I was something unholy.
"Where did you get this, Johnny?"
"The fairies, dad, I told you!"
He didn't respond. Just gave me another long, solemn look, before turning away from me, still holding the present I received close to his chest. I was upset, but I knew better than throwing a tantrum. That would be too much emotion anyways, too uncomfortable. Even back then, I didn't know how to handle those things.
I didn't show him their gifts after that. I didn't want to risk having them taken away. I tried not to be scared of the fairies, even though they always came at night, but I didn't go to my window when they came anymore. I read everywhere that fairies didn't particularly like to be seen, even though this one seemed to want to be. It always began with tapping, but otherwise complete silence that almost felt like it was swallowing me... and eventually the tapping would stop, the silence would pass, and I would fall asleep. In the morning there was always another gift for me, sitting on my window sill. A sparkly gold ring, the other matching shoe, a hat... I smiled when I took every one, wanting them to know I was grateful. And I would leave things for them too, little sweets or shiny things like coins or paperclips that I found on the ground at school.
Things seemed to get better with my dad for a while. He kept to himself more, he was quieter. At night he would cry softly in his room, rather than his uproarious wails that I used to have to quell so the neighbors wouldn't come knocking. During the day, he would talk to me, but more casually. He didn't ask me how I was feeling anymore, or tell me to let it out.
I hoped this was the fairies. I felt invincible, like I had a secret superpower that no one knew about. I was friends with fairies.
Then one night, everything changed.
It started with the tapping, as always. That night I was fast asleep, catching up on well earned rest since the nightly therapy sessions had ceased.
The tapping woke me. It was that loud. It was louder than usual... but it seemed like it stopped abruptly as soon as I raised my head to look.
That was different...
That night, I had left my blinds up and my window open by accident. Since that first night, even though I wasn't scared anymore, I had always closed them... but this time, I must have forgotten.
It was silent outside. It seemed darker than usual. I could almost make out something, a shape, way on the other side of the yard, but it was too dark and I was too far away to tell.
That feeling from that first night retuned. A twisting like a hand reaching into my stomach and mixing things around, a heavy feeling in my chest like someone had stolen all of the air from my room, even though the window was open. The silence seemed to crush me, bearing down on me from every angle, making my ribs hurt.
The feeling that something was very wrong.
I don't remember deciding to stand: looking back, I have no idea why I would do that in my state of fight or flight. I don't know if I consciously chose to. I don't remember walking over, but I remember getting there, my hands on the windowsill and my head poking out into the completely still night air.
There was something there. On the edge of the trees. Right where I had seen that first fork disappear into thin air. I squinted, leaning further into the darkness to try and make out what it was.
When I finally did, the outline taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to shake uncontrollably. I remember that I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare.
Two legs stood in front of the trees, facing me. Two legs, a blood-soaked pair of slacks, no shoes on the purple, swollen feet. And a jagged, violent rip in the torso where the rest of my mother's body had been severed from its lower half.
It took me a while to realize that the legs weren't standing on their own. They began to move, jerking clumsily toward the window, like something I couldn't see was struggling to hold them up. I finally forced myself out of my trance and fell to my carpet, vomiting.
I don't remember much else about that night yet. My dad came running when I started crying, I'm sure, but he didn't see what I saw. My mom's legs were gone, or hidden. Because they weren't for him.
They were for me.
We moved after that. Before now if you had asked me why we moved so far away so suddenly, I probably would have mumbled something about the grief, and it being too hard to stay where my mother had died. But I remember why now.
It was because the next morning, when I checked my windowsill, there was a hand. My mother's hand. Purple and stiff, and missing her gold wedding ring. Reaching, fingers rested against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
Like it had been tapping.
I don't want to think about what else it might have brought, had we stayed.
That thing, whatever it was, wasn't my mother, and it wasn't a fairy. I had invited something else with all my praying, with all my naive and innocent beliefs, and with all my bottled up emotions. I had invited it, and I had let it in.
And then I had forgotten everything. Maybe I bottled that up, too.
Now I remember. Now I'm having nightmares, and waking up with that sick feeling in my gut, my eyes jumping to our closed bedroom window.
Because a week ago, my daughter woke me up very early in the morning my jumping on our bed. A week ago, she shook me awake, her eager smile stretching all the way across her face. A week ago, she told me, "Dad, the fairies came last night!"
She showed me a doll, a ballerina, with a pink tutu and beautiful long blonde hair.
And now, with all these terrible memories hitting me like cold water to the face, only one keeps me awake at night.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
It has granted two of my wishes, in its own twisted way. My father grew distant from me and my mother was brought back in pieces.
I'm happy now. But I don't have peace. I don't think I'll ever fully have peace, at least not with a child and a wife to try and provide for, and not with all of these memories.
So what has it come back for?

The beginning of my daughters 6th grade year (2021), a new girl moved to town. We will call her Ruth. Her parents had recently divorced and she moved here with her mother. My daughter quickly became friends with her and I noticed my daughter coming out of her shell more. Being less shy, more outgoing. I was happy for her to have made a new friend that she was close so quickly with. The friendship quickly turned into best friends. The girl began coming over to our house for sleepovers on the weekends as kids do. They would hang out at the park together in town. She eventually asked to go over to her house to hang out and I said yes. She knew it would just be hanging out during the day as I really didn't know her mother well. My daughter got in the car and told me how much she liked hanging out over there and then proceeded to tell me there roaches crawling on the floor in the girls bedroom, THEN asked if she could stay the night sometime. I told her no and explained to her why and said that her friend is always welcome to come stay at our home. BFF's continue. No harm, no foul.
Fast forward to 7th grade year. Still BFF's. This is great. Especially since girls are so awful to each other ALL THE TIME IN JUNIOR HIGH. Her mom has a work trip and has to travel out of state for a few days during the school week. She asked if her daughter could stay with us. My husband and I agreed that it would be fine and she stayed with us for a few days while her mom was out of state. Still BFF's.
Now it's the middle of 7th grade year, around January (2023). Her mom (46 y/o)started dating a new guy(50 y/o). This guys fiancé had recently left him for another guy. We will call him John. I live in a dominantly republican area if this gives you any idea of the people I'm dealing with/talking about. Anyways, they fall in love and she moves in with John within 6 months of dating each other. (Approx May 2023). Her son decides to move back with his dad. Her other daughter moved in with a boyfriend (she is over 18). So, just the mom and daughter move in with him and his son(irrelevant).
Summer 2023 it is suddenly unfair that Ruth is always coming over to our house, but my daughter never goes over there. My husband(37 y/o) and I(35 y/p) agree that it is ok for her to go over there. John had just recently putting up an above ground pool. We don't have a pool. It's summer. I get it. She goes over there plenty of times, I let her stay late as we just live about a mile or two down the road. John starts building a "cabin" as a "great outlook over the pool". This is basically a cabin/pool house thing up 12 feet above the pool, but kind of to the side. My husband and I think its super weird...but whatever, they continue hanging out back and forth at one another's houses. Ruth continues to stay over a lot. In the midst of all of this and my daughter meeting John she informs me that....John thinks my daughter is a liar. Of course I asked why. John thinks that because my daughter will not look him in the eye when she speaks to him. My daughter is shy and has a lot of anxiety. I told her that she is not required to look him in the eye if she doesn't want to her. Its HER choice. John now has a say in what Ruth wears. He is not allowing her to wear short shorts anymore because it will give off the wrong impression to men dressing that way. Same with tops as far as her chest and stomach. I don't mean extreme stuff either. I mean if she has a shirt that touches her pants, but when she lifts up her arms it shows her stomach it is not allowed. I also really don't care how people choose to allow/not allow their children to dress, it is just that she was previously allowed to wear these things. She is also no longer allowed to hang out in her room alone, she has to hang out with her family in the living room.
Fast forward to a couple of months ago. Still BFF's. My daughter asked for Ruth to stay over. Of course, its fine with my husband and I. However, Ruth cannot stay over because it is now unfair that Ruth always stays at our house and my daughter never stays there. My daughter asked me if she could spend the night over there. She informed me that if she was not able to spend the night over there, then they wouldn't be able to hang out anymore. I figured it was just two teenagers making stuff up to be able to stay somewhere. I always used to do it when I was a kid...all kids do it. I asked my daughter if she wanted to stay there. She was upset, and said yes because if she doesn't then they won't be able to be friends. She said so if she has to do it to be friends with Ruth, then she will. My daughter does not even use public restrooms/school restrooms. The only place she will go to the restroom is at home. My husband and I talked it over and did not allow her to stay because of how he openly talks shit about our daughter, and if you've read above...its giving narcissist. We explained all of this to our daughter.
Later that night there is a knock on our door. Its Ruth mom and John. They asked if they could talk to us. John asked if we called him a pedophile. We didn't. We explain this. Convo continues. Not a heated convo just a normal convo. They continue to talk to let us know that they don't drink or anything but they are facing misdemeanor charges for fighting ANOTHER GIRLS PARENTS in the 8th grade class at a Poker Run for a fundraiser a few months ago but it wasn't their fault. Then John asks if I bought Ruth a tanktop recently. It was a spaghetti strap. John tells my husband and I "Ruth isn't allowed to wear those because soon they will be freshman in highschool and ALL of the seniors have a bet to see how many freshman they can fuck and the ones dressed like that will be the easiest targets" Blood boils . I informed John politely but sternly that girls should not have to worry about how they are dressed, parents should be teaching the BOYS how to behave properly and obtain consent. John also defended a sex offender that was charged for molesting a girlfriends daughter who is disabled and cannot speak or talk for herself. John defended him and said technically she WASNT a minor and he is a good guy. Idc about sex offenders and I do believe in rehabilitation but a crime is a crime. Long convo. Basically chit chatting about our kids. It ended with them telling us that our daughter is always welcome to stay and we said thanks and they left.
Now, Ruth is no longer allowed to hang out with my daughter. Ruth has to ride the bus and cannot get rides home with us because its US. They are not allowed at the park together. She's not allowed here. This is per John and Ruth's mom. They had graduation and Ruth had to make sure John didn't catch her talking to me.
I obviously want my daughter to be happy. She has not given me an attitude about any of this. She has gotten upset and cried and just told me that she would do it if she had to because she doesn't want to lose her friend. She wants to have a good summer but John gives me the CREEPS and narcissist vibes. I also feel like its a control thing for him?
Plz be nice. I'll cry if I'm TA. lol

'Throws brick through window' hay it's me again look what I did
It was a rare occasion when the lovers of the demigod Primarchs gathered in a single area. The only rarer sight would have been the Primarchs themselves, but beggars can't be choosers. The lovers talked, ate, and mingled, forming their own cliques with separate conversations. Notable groups included Rose, Centurion, and whirlwind discussing events related to the Great Crusade; Dove and Muse talking about their lover's fashion sense; Black Bird and Morgenster lamenting how they wished their lovers would get along like they did; and Detective flitting between conversations, taking notes for some reason.
One conversation stood out and became the topic of all: who was the strongest among the Primarchs? Everyone had their own opinions, biases, and two cents to throw in about who could beat whom, who had the most skill, and what weapons they wielded. Then it boiled down to a more specific debate: who were the top five?
Freya's Slayer grinned toothily and spoke up. "Pariah! Out of all of us, you have the most skill when it comes to fighting. Most of us were part of the Imperial Guard or Navy before we met our Primarchs. What's your take on the matter?"
Morgenster, his face resting on his hand and his special helmet slightly off, revealing one eye and part of his face, responded thoughtfully. "I'd say my top five are Vulkan, the Lioness, Manus, Sanguinius, and for the last, it's a tie between Corax and Curze."
All of them stood around contemplating his answer, while Whym-Heart had a smug grin. Others, like Flower and Consort, frowned in disagreement.
Slayer decided to challenge Morgenster. "I can understand some of your choices, but why Curze and Corax? No offense to them, but their whole strategy is about shadows. Others like Angron, Mortarion, and even my Freya are exceptional warriors. What makes you think they’re better?"
"Angron doesn't wield her weapons; she only uses them. There's no difference to her between a weapon handcrafted by the Emperor or a stick with a rock at the end if it. If does the job That's enough. The nails in her head give her great battle lust, but a skilled or crafty opponent can easily take advantage of this. Mortarion is durable and strong, but she is slow. Take the Khan, for example. Her speed is her main strength, and I have no doubt someone like her can defeat Mortarion. For every single slice with her scythe, Khan can land twenty strikes. As for Russ, she’s too proud and arrogant. She is skilled, but unlike the Lioness, she gets distracted and prideful. Someone who fights dirty could easily exploit this."
Many nodded in agreement, especially those whose lovers were complimented, while others slowly nodded despite feeling slightly offended. Until Consort spoke up boastfully.
"Well, what about my Red? She's a powerful psyker, and I've seen her flatten whole armies with a single thought. I doubt a little stealth can counter her."
Morgenster didn't respond. He simply put on his helmet, and not three seconds later, Consort doubled over, clutching their stomach. Some laughed, others snickered, while a few showed genuine concern. That ended the conversation, with some agreeing while others drew their own conclusions.
A new debate began: who was the best in bed. Little Light boastfully and cheekfully claimed theirs was number one, leading to more arguments. Morgenster and Black Bird got up and went for a walk, knowing they'd get nothing out of the argument. As they walked and talked, they noticed two tall figures emerging from the shadows—it was their lovers. They said their goodbyes and waved.
"How much did you hear?"
"Enough." In an instant, she picked him up bridal style but still held a downturned expression.
"You're not mad, are you?"
"Depends on what you do next. I expect a big blanket and two cups of hot chocolate—both for me! What you do otherwise doesn't matter."
He grinned under his helmet. They were still working on the dynamics of their relationship, but these moments, these precious moments, were more than he could ever ask for. He took off his helmet, lifted himself a bit, and snuggled into her arm, with her returning the favor, making his grin even bigger.