I never thought I’d see myself writing on this forum or at least I hope I wouldn’t have to. My name is Miriam Jackson and I’m looking for a friend. Her name is Jocelyn Willard and I haven’t received anything from her for over a month.
Jocelyn went to Jonesborough, Tennessee for an investigative story on Reverend Somber.
I have only 6 files she sent me while on this trip, as I sometimes help her with editing and filing notes. Hopefully, they can help give the person who’s reading this the information necessary to help find her.
Jocelyn is a freelance journalist, who delved into journalism as she sees it as “the beacon of truth” Her newest fixation was televangelism. I know… I know in this day and age who's watching cable but that to Jocelyn is what made it more interesting.
Especially when she stumbled across Reverend Somber, unlike his name Reverend Sombers is charismatic ( as most in televangelism are) and speaks with such a feverish devotion you’d think you’re hearing the voice of God speak through him. He can often be found preaching on CTN at around 2 A.M. In his words `` Jesus had not come to talk to the righteous but to those who know they are sinners, and at this time sweetheart only sinners are watching.”
What caused Jocylen to want to investigate Somber’s I don’t know.

File#1: Gas Station _Towns People_Sombers Letter.Doc

I’m about a little less than a mile out on the outskirts of Jonesborough. I make a stop at the only gas station I’ve seen since leaving Route 321 about 30 minutes ago.
As I get out of my car I take in the sun something I don’t get enough of in Seattle. The gas station still has the reminiscence of different decades passed; with its paint chipped around the brick exposing its rustic hues and the sign tilted “Whitmens Gas Station Est.1910”.
I open the door causing a bell to ring,
“Hello, what can I help you with today darlin’,” said the lady behind the counter. She seemed about 60 years old her hair not yet fully gray and her face showing the emotions she’s worn over the years.
“ Hi, I just want to fill up my tank, I’m parked at pump 1,” I said.
“Well alright, what got you coming to these parts?”
“Oh, I’m writing on Reverend Sombers I’m supposed to go follow him as he goes live tonight for CTN”
“Ain’t that a treat, I swear when I hear him preach on Sundays it’s like the Lord is speaking through him,” she said in such a way you’d think she’d seen Heaven in that man's eyes.
“Well isn’t that something…How long has he been preaching for?” I ask as I pick at the hangnail on my finger. The admiration she had for the Reverend made me uneasy but I’d figured she’d know some background on him. Oddly she didn’t.
“Oh, He came around 3 years ago, it seemed like he just popped up at the church now that I think about it, The town was nothing like the peace it is now, Sombers brought this town into prosperity I tell ya.”Her brows furrowed as though she just realized something.
“I almost forgot to tell Earl to put the gas in ya car, go wait out there I’ll go tell him.”
Taking this as my queue that the interview is over I walk over to my car and wait inside for the man to arrive. A tap on my passenger-side window snaps me out of my daydreaming.
“I filled your gas up, Ruth told me you’ve been askin bout Reverend Sombers said you’d be writin on him.” Earl said.
“Yeah, do you have anything you’d like to share?” I shift in my seat as I take in Earl. He seems a bit younger than Ruth, his hands caked with oil stains and his shirt spotting the same look. A small towel lays on his shoulder. He leans into my passenger-side window before he answers
“I ain’t too fond of him don’t tell Ruth now she’d be madder than a wet hen I tell ya.” he coughs and laughs
“What are you not fond of?” Interested in figuring out what Earl knows that Ruth doesn’t
“I don’t speak too much on him don’t want him comin round here, you best be goin now ya tank is full. Have a good stay now ma’am” He smiled his teeth showing a testament to years of tobacco use.
I smile meekly back and wave bye as I head into town. Left with more questions I know I’ve not made a dumb decision by investigating Somber.
The town is picturesque many of it still having the structures from the 1800s it’s the oldest town in Tennessee after all. As I drive through town I take in the families walking and neighbors saying hi to each other. Almost too cookie-cutter.
I parked my car in front of Jonesborough Bed and Breakfast a quaint Victorian-era cottage. The overgrown bushes cover the majority of the white picket fence. A homey cottage and a hot meal sounds great right about now. I enter and am warmly greeted by the B&B owner.
“Hi, I’m Mary-Ann you must be Jocylen only person we have booked to stay for so long.”
“Yes, that would be me. I’m wondering if you could recommend a place for lunch. I'm quite hungry.” I put a hand to my stomach. I should've grabbed a snack at the gas station I thought.
“There’s the local diner just up the street, Your room is the first door on the right upstairs. It’s the Reverend's favorite. He thought you’d like it… that reminds me Reverend Somber will be having dinner with you today and said he’d want to speak with ya before you go follow him around. He left a lil welcome basket for ya upstairs,” she said
I thanked her then made my way to my room wondering what he’d left for me.
The room has a king-sized canopy bed in the middle with a white- Linen curtain draped on top. Stands out from the rest of the room, The canopy is supported by twisted columns and the back wall of the bed is structured architecturally containing a niche with a shell decoration and four more smaller twisted columns surrounded by leaf decorations. The deep walnut wood of the bed is a contrast to the faded yellow stained floral wallpaper and average closet in the corner of the room. The bed was foreign to this room, I just knew it.
I look at the welcome basket on the bed filled with fruit, wine, a letter, and oddly finger cots. The letter stated the following
Dear, Miss Willard
Thank you for your interest in my humble serving of the lord. I’d like to take ya to dinner at The Black Olive to better acquaint ourselves before you shadow me today. I hope the finger cots give you rest from your constant finger picking what a painful nervous tick to have for the past 20 years. Grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus Christ.
Sincerely,
Reverend Somber
I felt the sweat dripping from the back of my neck and my hands shaking as I folded the letter back up. All I can think is
who the fuck is Reverand Sombers.

I know this post is going to make a lot of people angry, but this has been the single biggest thing on my mind ever since I became a part of this community: a lot of people sound like they're confusing hyper-realistic dreams with (mini)shifts.
Hear me out.
I'm not saying shifting isn't real. I haven't experienced it myself, but I freaking hope it's real. I mean, it sounds cool as heck and I've been trying to do it for three years now. I'm invested in this stuff, trust me.
But unlike a lot of people here, I've been a lucid dreamer since childhood. And when I read some posts (not all of them, I'll come back to that)... they sound a LOT more like hyper-realistic dreams than anything else.
What prompted me to do this post is that about a week ago, I tried to shift from a lucid dream. It didn't work, but what ensued was probably the most realistic dream I've ever had. I could see my face in a mirror, touch it, observing my surroundings, even I was confused for a bit about whether I'd actually shifted or not. Stuff that made me think, after waking up, that anyone who's never had any hyper-realistic dreams before might get tricked into thinking that they shifted if it happened to them for the first time, especially after a shifting attempt.
And let's be honest, a lot of people in the shifting community are young, and so emotionally attached to the idea of shifting that saying anything remotely negative about it has to come with a disclaimer. They probably have no prior experience with lucid dreams or hyper-realistic dreams, which is completely fine. But I think it's important to apply critical thinking and skepticism to our own experiences and others'. If anything, this is just beneficial for everyone. Blindly accepting and never questioning anyone's experience will ultimately lead to people convincing themselves that they're shifting when they're not, which is just sad for them, right?
When I found out about shifting, "minishifts" weren't a thing. Nowadays they seem commonly accepted somehow, as if there's some kind of pipeline that goes "lucid dream -> minishift -> shift" or something along those lines. It's difficult to raise doubts about it being actually related to shifting at all instead of some kind of hyper-realistic dream experience, because then it just sounds like you're invalidating people's experiences. And again, because a lot of people in this community are unhealthily attached to these little specks of success, holding onto them as ultimate proof that they'll be one day able to go to their DR, it becomes a very touchy subject.
I've spent way too many hours reading through MANY posts by the (seemingly) most experienced shifters I could find, to try and figure out what makes shifting different from dreaming, and what elements seemed to be consistent across shifters. These posts, unlike the others I was talking about above, go into intricate detail about an experience that's very different from anything dream-related. I'm going to try and summarise what I've read here (I'll try and add sources when I can):

• Unlike dreams, shifting is as clear as real life

This is the main "selling point" of shifting and what makes it different from anything else around according to people who've done it. Time flows naturally (no time skips), everything feels real, sometimes too real (especially violent stuff), you've got your five senses working perfectly, you go to sleep at night and wake up there in the morning and even have dreams there, etc.

• You can't "wake up" from shifting

This to me is one of the biggest things that make someone's testimony sound like it was just a dream. Especially if it's paired with...

• You can't "shift back" unintentionally

According to experienced shifters, shifting back unintentionally isn't even something you should worry about, as you can only do it using a safeword or intention. Shifting back accidentally from a "mini" shift and waking up in your bed sounds a lot like... well, a dream.

• You don't have to "ground yourself" in your DR

"Grounding yourself" is, in fact, literally a process that's normally used for lucid dreaming, and makes no sense when shifting is supposed to be as real as real life. You don't have to ground yourself in real life unless you're like, dissociating or something. "I shifted back because I didn't ground myself properly in my DR" sounds indistinguishable from "I was dreaming and woke up because I didn't stay focused".

• Reality checks pass in your DR

Another thing that seemingly makes shifting different from dreaming: reality checks pass, just like in real life. However, it's important to note that most reality checks aren't fool proof, especially the ones that simply rely on your dream not being realistic. Counting your fingers, checking text, pinching yourself — there's no reason that a dream wouldn't be realistic enough to be consistent with those and make you believe it's all real and that there's nothing wrong with any of these. You could have all 10 fingers and read very legible text from a book and still be very much dreaming, it's happened to me.
The only foolproof reality check I can think of is the one where you pinch your nose and try to breathe through it, because it relies on the fact that your breathing isn't paralysed when you're asleep, while your hands are, so you'll just feel air go through your nostrils and fingers even though it shouldn't (you're not actually pinching your nose in real life, basically). You could argue that there's no reason that the brain shouldn't be able to fake that either, but still, it's at least 99% more accurate than the others, and from my experience, has always been reliable.
I'm making this post partly because I figured I can't be the only one who gets demotivated/frustrated when reading people describe their (mini)shifting experiences in ways that so closely resembles dreams, with no reality checks (or unreliable ones), and no one questioning it in the comments. Not only do these posts often lack a LOT of details but they also don't align with what seems to be the common beliefs about what shifting is and isn't, and seeing everyone being blind to that only furthers the idea that shifting is all a big myth or a thing delusional kids made up. It's counter-productive.
I genuinely don't mean to invalidate anyone's experiences but I had to get this all off my chest, it's a bit disorganized — still, I'd love to read people's thoughts and opinions on this, whether you agree or not.

You messaged me asking what it would take to be in my next story. I let you know I would need to see a face and dick pic to decide. You were hesitant to send a face pic but did not waste time sending a dick pic.
My mouth watered instantly. You must have the prettiest dick I had ever seen. It was long and veiny. Your pink head was perfectly curved, and your slit glistened with precum. I couldn't tell but it must have been at least 8 inches or more and I wanted to find out. I couldn’t stop looking at it. It stood at attention, swollen and full, firm with excitement and calling my lips.
I don’t usually meet someone without seeing them first and I couldn’t convince you to send me a face pic. Would I break my own rules for your girthy cock?
You convince me to meet you at a bar. You let me know If you weren’t what I expected, I could leave. If anything I would get a free drink. I hated myself for caving in but I want your dick!
On a cloudy evening I followed your instructions. You wanted me to wear black, with my hair slicked back, ready for fun. I was to meet you at 8. Once I arrived at the destination, I would travel up to the 5th floor. I was to sit at the bar opposite of the pool side and look out for you. I would know it’s you because you would wear brown shoes, navy blue slacks, a light blue button down, with no tie. You told me to make sure I looked for your rolled up sleeves and tattoos on your left arm.
I followed your instructions. Once I found my spot I ordered a drink. From where I was sitting I had a clear shot to the entrance. The bartender hands me my vodka water and I take my first sip.
It wasn’t long after I took my first sip when I saw you walk in. You walked in with a smile which was incredible. A contrast from the gloomy evening. You were taller than I expected. You had perfectly combed dirty blonde hair. Your eyes were piercing blue. Tattoos traveled down your left arm. I knew it was you.
My glare must have caught your attention. You looked over where I was sitting when our eyes locked. I politely smile and continue enjoying my drink. I did not know what you had planned.
You come over to introduce yourself. “Am I what you expected?” You ask. Confidence in a man is sexy, and you were definitely confident. “Maybe.” I responded. I was in a trance. Not only did you look great but you smelled incredible.
You order a drink and sit next to me. There was no small talk. You were easy to talk to. I laughed at your jokes and I flirtatiously rubbed your leg. I notice there was a crease in your pants and realize it’s your hard on. Although we were outside I felt warm. I became flustered looking at your cocks outline. I wanted to find out what it tastes like. I want to unzip your pants, unwrap your cock, and indulge in every inch. I wanted to suck up every last drop like I was dying of thirst.
You must have seen my want for your dick. You asked to pay our tab. Then you whispered in my ear “do you trust me?” This turns me on. I bit my bottom lip and signal yes with my head. “Then follow me.”
We get on the elevator and quietly go down. Dirty thoughts raced in my head. I want to work on your dick hard, taking it deeper and deeper while gently rubbing your balls. The doors to the elevator open. I froze for a moment when you turned and told me, “come on.” I followed you.
We walked out of the building into a fresh summer night. You take a right and walk towards a dark and less busy side of downtown. Not much was being said. It seems like you know where you’re going. I started wondering why you’d ask if I trusted you when you took a sharp turn into a dark alley. I stopped. I didn’t know you and you wouldn’t send a pic, what if this was a set up. That’s when I hear you shout out “are you coming?”
I turned the corner and not far from the street you had your slacks pulled down and your cock in your hand. I could not believe how comfortable you were to be naked so close to the public. My worry had quickly diminished when I saw how big your cock was. I looked back to see if anyone was coming, and it was clear. I slowly positioned myself to drain your balls.
I placed my right hand under your impressive dick. It was a monster cock!!! I thought 9 inches for sure. I licked my lips admiring it. It was no longer a picture but now in my face. Then with no warning, my mouth descends down your shaft. You lean back towards the wall and gasp.
I pull your drenched dick out. I began to circulate my tongue around the rim of your head. I want to deep throat you. I prepare by relaxing my throat muscles before sliding your dick down. I drag your cock along the roof of my mouth on its way to my throat. Your head stops, it is pressed against my tonsils. Your cock is so massive I need a little help to get it down my throat. You push forward, and it pops past my gag reflex. “Mmm…” I hear you moan. While my eyes release some tears.
You slowly thrust into me. Every time your head pops past my tonsils. You can’t believe I can take all your cock. No one has ever been able to do so.
There is saliva everywhere. My mouth is producing so much saliva from wanting your cock so bad. It’s all over your cock, balls and my face. It’s so slippery your cock goes in and out easily. My lips make slurping sounds from pressing up against your veiny member. You love this and let me know.
While my mouth works on your cock, my right hand rubs under your balls. You must have liked the pressure, because you spread your legs open and squat down a bit, holding yourself against the wall to make room. My fingers are now traveling down and pressing up against your hole. Your cock gets harder. You don’t stop me.
Unexpectedly, I moved my face down and went under your balls and between your legs. My tongue is in search of your hole. At first it encounters your hairy ass but eventually it meets your hole. “Oh fuck you” you exclaimed and squad even further down. I can’t believe you're holding this squad this long but it makes sense because you’re fit. In this position I take the opportunity and go in deep with my tongue. That’s when I feel your right hand push my head closer to your ass.
I can hear my saliva clashing with your hand while you stroke your cock. Your right hand never loosens the grip of my head. That’s when I hear you warn me “oh fuck! Oh fuck!!!” You began to unleash string on string of hot cum. You get it everywhere. I quickly moved my head towards your dick and tried to suck up the remaining of your cum but it’s too late. You have completely emptied your balls.
You pick up your underwear before collapsing on the floor. “I’ve never felt that before” panting and reaching for air. “How do you do that?” You ask. I smile and offer you a hand to help you up. “So I take it, you liked it?”

I'm on my bed, scrolling through Instagram, when the notification pops up. It's Jake, my ex, with a message that drags me back to a hot summer night a few months ago. The night that was, well, different. Jake and I had been dating for almost a year. He was tall, dark, and impossibly handsome, with this magnetic confidence that pulled me in from the moment we met. That night, we were chilling at his place, a bit tipsy from the wine, and the vibe was just right. We were laughing about some silly meme, and then, out of nowhere, he leans in and whispers in my ear, "I've been thinking about trying something new tonight." I felt a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness. We'd talked about anal before, in that flirty, teasing way, but never actually done it. He saw the curiosity in my eyes and kissed me, slow and deep, his hands wandering over my body, igniting every inch of my skin. His lips found my neck, my shoulder, and then lower, making me shiver with anticipation. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice husky, his eyes locked onto mine. I nodded, biting my lip, feeling a thrill run through me. This was Jake, the guy I trusted more than anyone, the guy who knew how to push all the right buttons. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the lube and a condom. My heart was racing, a mix of adrenaline and arousal. I turned onto my stomach, feeling vulnerable but also incredibly turned on. Jake's hands were magic, massaging my back, easing the tension, making me melt into the mattress. His fingers, slick with lube, gently teased my entrance, and I gasped, the sensation foreign but oddly thrilling. He took his time, circling, pressing, easing me open, whispering sweet nothings that made me feel so safe and wanted. "Relax, babe, you're doing great," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. When he finally entered me, slowly, carefully, I felt a mix of sensations—fullness, pressure, a slight sting that quickly faded into pleasure as he moved. His hands gripped my hips, his pace gentle yet firm, each thrust sending waves of heat through my body. I moaned, the sound surprising me with its intensity, but I couldn't help it. It felt so incredibly good, different from anything I'd ever experienced. Jake was amazing, attentive, making sure I was comfortable, making sure I was enjoying every second. His rhythm picked up, and I felt myself slipping into a blissful haze, my body responding to his every move. My breath hitched, my back arched, and I lost myself in the moment, in the way he filled me, in the way we moved together. When we finally climaxed, it was like fireworks, an explosion of pleasure that left me trembling and breathless. He collapsed beside me, pulling me close, kissing me tenderly. We lay there, wrapped up in each other, basking in the afterglow, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts beating in sync. I never expected to love it so much, to feel so connected, so alive. Even now, thinking about it, my skin tingles with the memory. It was one of those nights you don't forget, a night that changed everything. We broke up a few weeks later, but that night stayed with me. It was wild, intense, and oh so sexy. And as I lie here, smiling at Jake's message, I can't help but feel a little thrill, remembering how he made me feel, how we made each other feel. It was just one of those unforgettable experiences, a memory I'll always cherish.

My LIfe Is Worth More Than 36 Apples I was am a sole from this point on. The moths of darkness just began a fetus in the woumb. Both mother and father have litle knolige of my existance my begening is heare hethy with nknone emosion untill I was sliced from my mother. My parents fell in love with me from the begening little did they know that tere was somthing wrong. It was not there falt I think that I loved them at that point to. I was dieing. My heart broken by imprefection that only flesh offers to the potentialy imortal relm of God placed soil named Earth. Spoler alert I servive otherwise you would not be reading this. One day out of my life I fely horible sick beyond what the doctors had already fixed I was dieing still alive but dieing why they “forgot” ( neglected) to tell my parents that I have a paralised vocla chord is beond even my ant’s comprehencion and she is a sergical nerce. What made them fear my parents? What made them fear so much that they could not tell my perents what hppened? I ask these questions so often that I wonder why I servived. That is when one day out of my life I felt amasing like God was truly there to witness me changing to somthing worth more than any dimond in the world. My parents kept me alive by questining the doctors did so little. My grandmother prayed so much I wonder how I survived. One day of my life I felt horible Thank the lord that I was not dieing my great gradfather was putt to sleap in his grave I now have a feading tube one year old no birthday cake for me. I gess that there is where my life chages yet again. I wonder how I survived. One day out of my life I felt Exuberant I am two years old ,Birthday cake ;-) Yay, my first ever the tube is gone. My parrents still wotty but they realy don’t have to any more until laiter. Gram is there. So is most of my family. I love my gram so much at this point I would taher be at her houce than at home there is so much I still have to live for. One day out of my life I feal loved I am at home having fun with my gram telling her stories that I make up as I go along. She loves me I know it in my heart. There are not enugh words, colors, and sounds to describe what I felt in this world at that moment for my little mind to wrap its gentle fingers around I am less than five years old so the only resion that I remember is a home movie. It is a wonder that I survived. One day out of my life it is near cristmass I could be five but I am not certan I thaught tis memory a dream until my mother told me the story. I was sick enugh that my parents thaught that I was dieing. I had an ear infection, pnumonya, and somthing elce my mother can not remenber. I wonder why I survived. One day out of my life I am still five and going to kindergaden I love to run around and hide out undeneath the slides if only I knew what the world was than I probabley whould not have kissed a boy on the lips so soon. I shold have knone that such an act as this was for the day of prom or highscool. I was definatly not ready for being in love, nor was I ready to kiss boys impishly under the that particular Emitsberg Elimentery slide. The boy’s confusion was so great that I belive he ither liked me or he did not know who I was to tell the teacher what had happened. Ither way I grew up way to quikly and at the same time to slowly for my mothers liking. I would barly clean my room thak the lord for her patince at this poit in my life, other wise I woder how I did survive. One day out of my life I was in first grade imaging what life would be like on the moon. I was listening to the teacher but I could not for the life of me was i being sent to lern how to read and wright when I already knew how to do both of those things. What where they thinking I neaded more help with math than with reading and spelling I could study those wordes and sentance structures. Why did they chose to give me exta practice in my faverite subject the only problem I had was telling lowecace B’s from lowercace D’s until a nice teacher taught me a trick invalving the word bed. Putt your fingers on your left hand so that it resembles a lowecace B than have your fongers on your right hand resemble a lowercace D place coth hannds together and make a bed B.E.D. that was somthing that realy helped it was so ingraind in my nogin that after just that one clarifacaition I had the difrence betwean D and D down pat. I read Juny B. Jones boks up the wasoo after that and most of my class was reading picture books that where to easy so I stoped reading them. I didn’t check out books from the scool library because I had books at home to read if I remember corectly. My parents sau that it was the comprehensin part I gess that I understood the book’s meaning but not the questin of “ How did the caractar change throughout the story?” silly me I putt ( this is acording to my mother) “The carictar did nit change throuout the story. There is no mension of her getting dresset,” I wonder how I survived. One day out of my life i am repeating first grade. I thaught that there where only two years of school I thaught that if i passed this year that i would not have to go to school any more nobosy told me otherwise because i kept the thaught to myself because i was so sure that I was corect that I did not tell a sole nor, angel, not even God, but I gess he knew that anyway even without me telling him. I gess that if God dose laph that he might have been lafing at me and I would laph with him once I came to realise my childish ignerance at the age of seven and a half. I realy do not know why I relised that particalar fanticy was falce but I gess that visiters from the fith grade shook that idea right past my young lips and took me from that faticy I was somhow living in at the time. As I wright this I am sitiosly remided of that anoying yet cachy toon of the Caillou theme song whn it said “ Growing up is not so tuff…” I would like to add to that paticular snippit by saying that being or fealing grown up is the hard part. Thank the lord I was still just growing up at this point otherwise I have no clue of how i would have survived. One day out of my life I learn that Gram is moving to West Bend I was so confused because I remember saying to her that “ we will live togther forever.” than she aked me with such a look upon her face that surly I had no anser to this “what if I move?” my anser to this of corce was “we will move to” I loved my grandmother so much at that point that I thaught that my parents not looking for a new houce was a betrayel of what was going on until... One day out of my life I find out that we are moving at first I thaught that this would remidy the we will live togerhher forever situaiton, but it just only remidied the if you move we move situaiton. This was just after I found out that we where moving from Airshire to Ankeny instad of to West Bend this is in ither late may or early june we are looking for a place to live we looked at some two story houces but we came upon this nice single story ranch it is a nice place to be but I wish that I did not tell the reliter that I “ felt at home here” honestly there where less pressing matters of where we would be going to school and how long it would take to move all of our stuff to the new place that I would have to call home but I never realy did in my heart Gram’s houce was my true home from that point on. It is a wonder that we suvived. One day out of my life it is june 16th my birthday I have just terned egiht years old and this is just the begening of when I have started to really pray and recognise what prayer is to me I don’t realy expect God to answer me at this point in my life becase I reay did not know that God could truly anser quite directly or even ask of you things. I just thaught that God knows everything so he realy should no have to ask but I gess that even God has set rules for himself in promisess and fofilment of priofficy. The idea is that we have free will and he wants to ask and not tell us to be with him in spirit and in mannor. Our actions not telling us yes or no but how we feal about those actins threw God tells us these things. Concince and temptaition those little caton figures angel and demon with that tridant ( not the chewing gum brand) and tail. Oh how I have survived. One day out of my life the start of second grade a new school and a new life I wish that there where more interesting things to take apart than a phone with an already broken circut bord smashed by a bou in my class if not for the surcut bord I probubly would have figured out how to putt it back together. How I wondered every day when I would get to take somthing apart and putt it back together, but everthing was altready taken apart and I neaded a more than a philups haid screwdriver to fix that phone what I neaded was somthing I had no ideah existed littlelone the fact that I was way to youn to even use a sodering iorn. The teachers still thaught that I was still to young to hold a pair of sisors even though I started using them in preschool. It is a wonder I survived. One day out of my life I am exited I get to learn how to use chopstickes in class wile eating popcorn we where not aloud to use our fingers. We where at the end of our china unit coloring the great wall with lopsided bricks that where supost to be a little lopsided. I was exalent at using the two sticks to pick up the popcorn the only problem was that I was holding them wrong but at least i did not nead a rubberband atached to the se sticklike utencels. Using my middle finger as a fulcrum and my pionter and ring to manipulate the top stick even until I saw the diagram and did so the proper way. How did I survive? One day out of my life it is nearing first comumyon this is my fist time tasting the wine so that Iwont makew a face if I did not like the way it tates. I thaught that it tasted horible even though I took a small sip as instructed. I did not make a face. How did I survive? Oneday out of my life it is first comunyon I take both the host and the wine this time I like it so much I take a big gulp and make a face. When my mother asked me why I took such a big gulp I told my mother that the whine “ tates better with Jesus in it.” my mother laphed so quietly only her ears and a few others herd her. I wonder how we survived. One day of my life I am now about 9 or 10 years old Great grandma took me fishing and taught me how to imbroider that night i could not sleap for some reason or another so I got out the cloth that I was working on and started stichin gI was so quiet that I thaught that I would sutly not wake her than again the light in the livingroom of her apartment could have given me away. She found me awake and unable to sleap soundly I was not homsich and usualy did not complain but the couch was a tad to cushey so I slept on the floor instad she thaught that I was crazy for sleaping on the floor instad of on the couch. It is a wonder that I survived. One summer out of my life I felt human I can not remember what summer this was but I taught my sister how to swim she wanted to jump into the pool and each time that se jumped I would take just a single step back evedently she lernd to jump quite far also because when she went to her first formal swimming lesson she kept taking off the floaty until she threw it so that the instructher could no longer reach it than when it was her turn to jum into the water she abot flatenes the instructer ling sory short she skiped a few levils. I wonder how the poor swim instructor is doing. It is a wonder that he survived my syster. One day of my life I rode my first rolercoster I was so exited that I could barly wate in line when we finaly got to the front of the lighn the rolercoster took us up and down I could barily understand why all the other peaple on bord where screaming eve mu unkle. When the ride was over I aslked him so tentitivly why where the other peaple skreaming? Than he told me “Because they where having fun” I still had no ideah

“Jacob, can you come over here?”
“Give me a minute, Jess. Just finishing something up”
“I’m not asking a fucking question, get over here now.”
I stared into space for a couple seconds, conjuring up the strength to get off the couch. I had just gotten back from work, and helping my girlfriend around the house was the last thing I wanted to do that night. I mean, I thought she was about to have a bath; what the fuck did she want now? Before I could get up, footsteps started rapidly approaching me from the back bathroom. I quickly threw my phone aside on the couch and hopped up, acting like I was on my way.
“What the hell is taking you so long?” Jess said, bursting through the doorway. She was in her typical business casual blazer and jeans. I hadn’t seen her since she left for work in the morning; when she came home just 5 minutes prior she headed straight for the shower. She looked… flustered.
“Sorry, I had to just finish up some paperwork for some stuff at work,” I scraped out unconvincingly. Jess looked at me skeptically, so I quickly diverted the conversation. “Anyways, we can talk about it later, what’s going on?”
“I think, I don't really know how to explain it,” Jess said. I could sense a quiver of fear in her voice. “There’s, like, an infestation.”
“Like, of spiders?” I could feel my skin crawl. I sure as hell wasn’t hoping to have a showdown in the bathtub with a tarantula.
“No, no spiders. Just flies I think. And it’s not a whole nest or anything, they’re just crawling out of the floorboards. I saw a few last night but there’s way more now.”
“Shit, well I guess I’ll go check it out if you want.”
Jess nodded, and we locked eyes. She almost looked afraid, her eyes bleached with a sense of sorrow, while her brows were furrowed.. in fear? Maybe disappointment? It had always been so hard to read her. I had so many questions to ask her, but all I could choke out was, “Are you okay?”
She stared downwards and said, “Tough day at work.”
“You’re a bad liar.”
“Yeah, I know.”
An awkward silence followed. “I’ll see what I can do,” I said, awkwardly breaking the ice.
I walked past her, through the kitchen, and into the hallway. I peered over my shoulder as I wrapped around the corner and caught Jess staring at me blankly with that same face. I finally understood; she didn’t look distraught or afraid, she was guilty. I’ll admit, we had been going through a rough patch, but we had also been going to therapy and she hadn’t shown a sign of remorse. Guilt was something that she had never shown before. It was strange, but I didn’t think much of it at the time.
I opened our bedroom door and, to my confusement, the lights were out. I tried flipping on the light switch but nothing happened. I clicked it back and forth a couple more times, but the only light came from the far corner near the window. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, spilling in a sliver of light into the darkness.
BZZZZ BZZZZZ BZZZZ BZZZZZ BZZZ
A monotone buzzing noise traveled through the shadows, grating against my ears.
BZZ BZZZZZ BZZZZZZ BZZZ BZZZZZ
I moved towards the bathroom, but I stopped right before the door.
BZZZZ BZ BZZZZ BZZZZZZZ BZZ BZ
I was afraid. The buzzing seemed to grow louder by the second. It was deafening, piercing. “It’s just a couple of flies. I can handle a couple of flies,” I muttered to myself. I opened the door, and it let out a creeaak that split through the hum like butter.
BZZZZZ BZZ BZZZZ BZZZ BZZZZZZ
When Jess had called it an infestation, she was wrong. No, that would be putting it kindly. It was a fucking plague of them. On the far end of the bathroom, where the tub lay right next to the window, flies were pounding against the window screen, attempting to break through the plastic wire. There were some who succeeded, but were stuck bouncing back and forth against the screen and the glass furiously like enraged ping pong balls. Their murmurs resonated through the room, the droning buzz mimicking the sound of power lines on a hot summer day.
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
I felt like running, but instead I moved closer. I stood straight over the tub, looking down at the floorboards. Flies were flying out of the cracks by the seconds. The floor held a mixture of insects, dead and alive. There were ants and beetles that scurried among a graveyard of dead flies. That’s when it hit me; a wafting stench flared at my nostrils. It made my eyes water.
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
I shoved myself further into the swarm, getting pelted by the insects as I shoved my hands forward. I gripped my fingers around the corner of the screen and ripped it back. Flies ricocheted off my face, looking for a route to freedom. My hands fumbled for the bottom of the window, and I shoved it upwards. The insects whirred out of the room, exiting through the window and out into the night. I fell backwards and scrambled away from the continuous swarm exiting through the floorboards.
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzz
The buzzing of the insects eventually faded. I got up, slowly but surely, and stumbled back over to the window. The flies were gone, but the stench still lingered. I looked downwards, over the sea of dead flies, beetles, and ants, and towards the floorboards. One spot in particular caught my eye. A few flies were still crawling out, but I took a large step over the bathtub and crunched down upon the beatles and flies. I squatted down next to the floorboard, noticing that it was very loose. I gripped my hands around it, took a deep breath, and ripped it out. The stench intensified, rushing against my face as I pulled the board out of its socket.
Concealed inside the walls of my bathroom, a rotting body lay right before my eyes. The unfortunate soul’s head had been ripped apart, its brain, or what was left of it, almost completely eaten by the insects. The body was bloated, and there was still plenty of flesh still left. It was fresh. I staggered backwards, my eyes plastered in the direction of the body. I couldn’t look away. All of a sudden, the light turned off, and my heart sank. I was completely and utterly enveloped in darkness.
“You were wrong, I’m not a bad liar,” a familiar voice giggled from behind me.
I wanted to turn around, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear to face what I would see, even though I knew what would await me.
“What the fuck, Jess?! Who the fuck even are you?” I decided to face my fears, and turned around to see the dark outline of my girlfriend. “You fucking killed someone and let insects turn him into fucking skin and bones?! What the fuck, what the fuck, how is this possible-” I wailed on in shock, before Jess cut me off.
“Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t let the beatles do all of the dirty work, I had a little snack as well!”
I looked at Jess in terror, disgust, and shock. She thought this was funny. Whether she was a cannibal or simply a killer, I couldn’t give a fuck. I spent years with her, I slept with that monster, and I fucking loved that bitch. I simply didn’t, and still, don’t understand.
What happened next was somewhat of a blur. All I know is that I didn’t want to end up like the person underneath the floorboards. I jumped straight out of the window and hopped in my car. I drove for hours, and I didn’t stop until I ran out of fuel. The one thing that I really do remember though, is her pleading screams for me to come back as I sped away from our house.
“Come back!”
“Please don’t leave me!”
“I love you!”
“Please don’t do this!”
“I don’t want to hurt you!”
“Let's just talk this out, please!”
As much as I want my old Jess back, I have a feeling that my old Jess never existed. I don’t know what would’ve happened if I had stayed that night. She might’ve spared me. She might’ve still loved me. Maybe we could’ve lived on as if her little hobby didn’t matter.
But I didn’t, and I don’t think I ever could’ve.

This is my second ever time going to SNM. I wrote up about my first time and how magical it was and I'm so glad I got to go again because let me tell y'all I somehow managed to have an entirely new experience this time.
I got the Oz Guest ticket to ensure I got an Ace card, and I was the first one off the elevator. I was dropped off on the 5th floor, alone, which was quite creepy with all the hospital beds and tubs and the forest. There was no one for several minutes, and I was disoriented and couldn't find the stairs or any way out. I drifted between the tub room and the forest, and eventually a nurse appeared in the tub room. I observed her wringing clothes in water, and draping them across the tubs, staging them like they were people. This process was slow and I heard a noise in the distance so I followed that into the forest, where I saw one other guest watching the cottage in the forest. I noticed finally that there was actually a nurse inside, eyes closed, only visible from one angle so I hadn't seen her when I passed earlier.
With nothing else to do, I stood there watching for what seemed like ages. Surely, at some point, she would do something? It was so long that I thought for sure I was missing a lot of the show. I wondered if it was worth it. I wondered what the other guest was wondering. A few others passed us, but no other characters for the longest time. Then a bell chimed, and the nurse finally opened her eyes. She looked out at us, stood, and....closed the window. At this point I was sure I had just wasted my time. I was debating leaving. But no one else was moving. But surely, this was a waste of time. I turned to leave, and suddenly the nurse from the tub room appeared, crying, and the nurse inside the cottage opened the window to observe her. I must say the lighting here was excellent, but then the lighting in this show continuously impresses me. I have never been a lighting nerd but this show has made me realize how impactful lighting can be to a show. It's used masterfully in many scenes.
But back to the show. The nurse finally came out, and touched hands with the other nurse. They walked. I walked. We all wove through that forest, until the tub nurse ran suddenly, and we were running too, and then we were locked out from a gate. The tub nurse appeared in a window to the tub room, and danced as we watched. This small dance seemed to me like she was on the edge of a cliff, and her grief took her over as she fell suddenly off the edge. Not fell, leaped. I read this scene as a woman tortured by grief taking her own life, while a friend? Colleague? Observed.
Then my cottage nurse turned and walked slowly back to her cottage. She opened the door a crack, and turned, staring at me. I stepped closer. She opened it further. Cautiously, I stepped inside. She closed the door behind us. What transpired next was a magical experience I will not soon forget, with the taste of tea on my lips and whispered words about a moon like decayed bark and a sun like a wilted sunflower and stars like flies pinned to place. Blood will have blood...
I left and there was no one outside the cottage or indeed in the forest at all. I made my way through it and the tub room and finally found another hallway. I'm going to be honest, I do forget where I wandered then, and I may definitely be mixing up the order in which the following scenes happened because the night was a fever dream. But I witnessed scenes I did not see the first time I went last month. Somehow, by luck, other than the ending scene and the rave I did not see any duplicate scenes.
I saw the porter - who I don't think I ever encountered last time - and his dance in the hotel lobby is my new favorite. It's so full of raw joy, and though he was clearly an older man he danced with boyish jubilance that was infectious. More than a few of us observers were absolutely dancing along with him as we watched. I also found his interactions with the Boy Witch fascinating and their choreography at the telephones was my favorite by far.
The Boy Witch was another character I only saw in the ballroom and the rave last time, but who I witnessed several scenes with this time around. He's far too fast for me to follow, but I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time several times throughout the show. It was the same actor as last time, and I have to saw I think he plays the character really well. He's clearly sought after by everyone he encounters, seducing and drawing people in. I loved every scene with him almost as much as the Porter. Also, is the snake tattoo his or his characters? It's really beautiful, either way.
I saw two very intimate scenes with the Bald Witch, who I wondered how I missed last show but found out I didn't - she wears a wig through part of the show 😅 The little room she cleans up in a few times throughout the show off the side of the lobby is where I encountered her most. Once solo, and I felt almost bad I stepped into the room with her because I'm not small and I know I partially blocked the view of people outside of the room but fortune favors the bold right? I did try to squeeze myself into a corner, which only resulted in another person coming in to fully block the view from the hallway. That person caught the eye of the bald witch instead of me (I should have just stayed out blocking them 😤) and was allowed to touch her head in a very intimate moment.
The second time I caught her in there was by following a woman whose character name I don't know, after the ballroom scene where the two of them move the trees and then embrace. This time I did not care if I blocked people, me and one other person were in the room and watched the two women clean themselves up and reapply makeup. When the other woman left, I stayed with the bald witch (now wearing a wig), who fascinated me.
At some point I ended up in the rave bar before the rave began. I didn't know the "Hell Here" sign changed to "Hello There" before the rave! Every time I had seen it previously it had the o and t unlit. I saw Hecate readying for the rave. The music changed, and she danced, and eventually she made gasping sounds. Each gasp seemed to be a summoning. A ritual, drawing the other characters towards her. Her scream initiated the rave, and this time I had front row view from a different angle than I had previously, so it was like seeing it new all over again. Every bit as incredible, but different enough to feel like a brand new experience. And again, the lighting, seriously I'm a lighting whore after this show. I will forever judge theater experiences by their use of lighting compared to this show now. I hope whoever is in charge of lighting design is paid handsomely because seriously their work really drives the story. The music too, but I'm more impressed by the lighting tbh.
After the rave, I debated trying for the Hecate 1 on 1 since I knew what triggered it from last show, but I wanted to try new experiences this time so I tried to follow the Boy Witch instead. But I couldn't keep up, and there were too many people, and the next thing I knew I was by myself wandering empty halls again.
I can't remember if this happened before or after the rave, but I saw Agnes in the hall with all the shops. She went into a bedroom, and lay to sleep, where the tailor (not sure that's the characters actual title?) snuck in through the closet and put her capelet over her as she slept. When he left, she woke, and she locked the door to the room. I watched her put on makeup, and then go into the closet. Me and the 3 others watching kind of looked at each other, wondering if we should follow. Two of them tried the door, to find it's locked. Once I knew that I plowed into the closet and had a delirious thought about going to Narnia but no, I just ended up back in the shops hallway, where I saw Agnes meet the man who had covered her when she slept, and together they went into the clothier, and danced as he presented her with fabrics to choose from, and when he left she stole his money, and he brought her flowers, and then she went back to her room. She went next to the detective agency, and wrote a letter which I couldn't read despite trying over her shoulder (I'm a creep, this show makes me feel like such a voyeur lol).
At some point I ended up back in the lobby, watching the porter and the Boy Witch and two women and I think MacBeth? Dancing on the lobby desk, which was wonderfully choreographed again. Instead of following the others I stayed with the porter and situated myself in front of him as he made a tiny boat out of a card. Then Agnes was there, ringing the bell for the porter, and I realized then we'd had a reset because I had seen this scene already. I went to take the boat origami, but as I reached for it another guest snatched it away - like literally, she had been pressed to my side the entire scene, her fingers twitching so she clearly knew the opportunity would be coming. I thought that was a little uncalled for, but whatever, I'd already had a few very special moments today I wasn't going to let one instance sour anything.
I left to find another scene as I had watched this one already, and ended up back at the Manderlay bar by accident. Took that opportunity to use the restroom and grab a quick drink because a woman was singing and she had a lovely voice. Listened until her song was done and when I went to leave, the guy who was the greeter at the start of the show asked if I want to enter a different way, and took me in through the "main" entrance which somehow I had never gone in through before?? This deposited me in the lobby of the hotel of course, and I wandered until I encountered two people running towards each other and embrace, sobbing. The man went on, and far too many people followed him so I followed the woman, who went into the room with the lit cross where Duncan(?) body is. She unwrapped him and used true loves kiss to bring him back to life. Together they went to the ballroom and danced, which was beautiful. Then she left, and I followed our resurrected Duncan because I had NO IDEA he came back to life at any point from last show so I was like bro what are you gonna do with your new life??? Well, he decided to retrace his steps of course, clearly confused and slowly remembering what had happened to him as he went first to the cross room, then to the place of his murder, then through to the room he dances in before his murder, and then he went running. I tried keeping up but well, I am not a runner.
Somewhere along the way I end up back in the ballroom, having followed someone I encountered in the hall. I thought oh great, banquet again, let me wander and see if anything else happens elsewhere since I have already seen this? But as I went to leave, the Porter and a woman came in, and positioned themselves in the back of the ballroom. I had not seen this before as I'm usually at the front, so I decided to stay and see if they do anything interesting. And this is when I realized the show was ending, because the banquet turned into a hanging, and we were then all ushered out.
Second time going to this show, and I feel I saw a whole new show having witnessed so many scenes I hadn't seen last time. I wonder how many more I am missing? I hope to see it once more next month, and maybe finally see the entire show and put together the pieces of plot. I definitely feel that this time I was able to absorb more, and found myself actually applying motives and thoughts and words to scenes that had none. I love that there are very few spoken scenes - it leaves the experience up to the beholder to interpret, and I know from reading others recaps that we all kind of notice different inflections that mean different things to us and change how we view a scene. I'm only sorry i waited so long to see this show - I wish I could have seen it more often to truly capture all of it.
But, I may have another chance next month! Until then, I for one will definitely be getting a good nights sleep after all that walking today 😂

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 know 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.

I was born in a large city. My parents 21f and 24m were both university students when I was conceived, my mother was in 3rd year. I'm not sure what year my dad was in. I always get vague answers when I ask. My parents originally planned to become teachers after completing teachers college.
Instead they married largely due to family pressure early in the pregnancy. Immediately after that they backpacked around southern Europe and Morroco. They drank considerably and smoked Marijuana as often as they could. Their original intention was to teach English in Spain, but apparently changed their mind because of the hospital, cost seemed to be the main factor. They returned to our city with my father going back to school and eventually getting his teaching degree and his first teaching job when I was 3 or 4.
My mother seemed to resent having to care for an infant. During my childhood she would complain about the awful diapers and mixing formula, etc.
When I was approximately 2 -3 years-old I was diagnosed with cerebal palsy. Immediately after I was diagnosed my parents started trying to conceive another child. By the time my sister was 1 year old, my parents decided she wasn't as perfect as they thought she should be so they conceived my youngest sister.
My kindergarten teacher wanted me to repeat kindergarten because of my very poor motor skills mostly cutting and pasting but also my printing was very messy, which was mostly due to the tremors. I was intellectually able to do all of the work and I could already read. If had gone to senior kindergarten I would have been able to enter French immersion, which started the year after I entered school. Also I was the youngest child in my class because I was born late in the year. The French immersion schools were much better funded and had much better teachers and resources. I stayed in the original school which was one of the 2 worst schools in our region. My first grade teacher made me stand in front of the class to evaluate my reading, I was very shy and soft spoken, so I stammered slightly. From this alone she put me in the bottom reading group even though repeatedly showed her that I could read any book in the room. Standardized testing in 2nd grade showed that my reading and math skills were at 6th grade level. I know this because the guidance teacher showed my scores and explained what they meant when I was frustrated with the pace of the classroom and lack of mentally challenging work. My teachers would make me write things over and over because of the 'messiness'. This never worked and my printing would get worse because of fatigue and pain. I was bullied by most of the kids in my class because I was small, clumsy, physically weak, and somewhat odd looking, the fact that I was very smart also didn't help. My teacher wouldn't allow me to use the washroom when I needed it, since I had a bladder disorder related to my cerebal palsy, that meant I would sometimes wet myself. This only happened when I wasn't allowed to use the washroom when I needed to. This led to the other kids calling me diaper queen. Eventually I was exempted from most of my in class subjects and allowed to work independently in the library on whatever I desired. When I was in 2nd or 3rd grade my arm was badly sprained by a bully and I was prescribed a tensor bandage to support my hand and wrist. I noticed that my printing was better with it and I tried to keep using it. My mother found out and angrily took it away from even though I explained that it helped me. She would not listen and there was no explanation at all. She would send me to school no matter how sick I was, and would only let be at home when the school said I was too sick to be there. Our house never had a thermometer or bandaids or any other health related items, not even a hot water bottle or heating pad. When I was in 5th grade I developed a ganglion on the inside of my middle finger, it was very painful and made it even more difficult and painful to write. I saw a hand surgeon who said he could remove it easily and quickly. My parents, mostly my mother refused to allow me to have this surgery even though it would be completely paid for through our canadian health program.
Every few months we would visit family friends in the city each time before we went home my dad would go to a bank machine, except we always parked at the far edge of the parking lot and my dad would walk away and then be gone for 30 to 40 minutes. I realized later that he was buying amounts of Marijuana about a pound or two each. He and my mother would smoke it regularly, they I wasn't aware but I especially the air currents would waft the smell to my window.
Even though I asked repeatedly to be moved to a different school my parents made no efforts to do so. I could have been moved based on my disability and also my intellectual giftedness. I was not taken to a dentist until I was 8 years old. By this time I already decay in several of my teeth, partly because our water wasn't fluoridated. My dad could have added flouride to our well water for a very low cost, but was too cheap to do so. Another factor was I did not have a child size toothbrush so it made much more difficult to clean my teeth effectively.
My parents were home most of the time but spent very little time with their children. There was very little affection shown. I had very few clothes, with one or two items bought for back to school. And sometimes none since I was failure to thrive and grew very slowly. At Christmas my mother would buy the same toys for all 3 of us even though I was 4 1/2 and 7 older than my sisters. One year she bought all of us cabbage patch dolls, this was even though I had never had any interest in dolls or girly stuff. She did this again when the cabbage patch dolls came out.
My grandfather died when I was 9 years old, my grandmother remarried suddenly when I was 13. She lived with him in England for several months but then they moved back to town close to us. There were frequent family gatherings that included him. From almost the beginning he would find ways to trap me and sexually assault me by pushing me against a wall or into a corner he would then force his tongue into my mouth and rub his penis against me. He would also shove his hands into my pants... During my adolescence I was misdiagnosed with depression, when I actually post traumatic stress reaction because of the many things I'd dealt already, I was sent to a psychiatrist who didn't listen to me and wasn't competent, she kept prescribing different drugs when I didn't respond to them the way I 'should ' have. She put on lithium with no sign of bipolar disorder. I very developed severe lithium toxicity. She took me off it eventually. At some point she decided that since antidepressants weren't working it must because I was psychotic. She put on antipsychotics even though I repeatedly told I was not psychotic and I never was. She wound up convincing my parents to send to this inpatient program for adolescents with psychosis. I talked to the psychiatrist there once and he knew I had never been psychotic, he stopped my medication immediately and I was the only one there not on any medications and was not mentally ill at all. But I wound up spending 8 months there.
There were other things that went on with my family but this about as much as I can write right now. Am I wrong to distance myself from my family ? I feel little connection to them and they usually want to draw me into some drama that I don't want to deal with. tl;dr; childhood experiences, neglect

[ 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 ]

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?

EXT. CAMELOT - CASTLE DAY
(The castle of Camelot stands over grassy hills and crystal clear rolling rivers and seas. Gray clouds cover the sky and hundreds of soldiers and knights can be seen riding toward the castle. Text appears on the screen reading “CAMELOT” and then “CENTURIES AGO”.)
INT. CASTLE - THRONE ROOM - DAY
(MORGANA LE FAY (Centuries-Old), a beautiful middle aged appearing woman with sharp features and long flowing black hair, sits on the throne and holds Excalibur, the Crown of Camelot sits upon her head. Knights and soldiers march in linear motions through the hall. DEWIN (30s), a scruffily charming magician, enters in handcuffs, with guards behind him. Dewin marches up and presents himself to Morgana. Everyone in the room halts.)
MORGANA: State your name.
DEWIN: You know my name, Morgana.
MORGANA: State your name.
DEWIN: Dewinson of Merlin.
MORGANA: You are being tried with treason and conspiracy against the crown. Do you plead guilty to these crimes?
DEWIN: That depends.
MORGANA: On what?
DEWIN: Who you consider the crown to be.
(Dewin slips his handcuffs off and as he does three Blue Jays come flying out of his sleeve and begin to fly around the room.)
MORGANA: Enough foolishness. I find you guilty of the accusations placed upon you.
DEWIN: Then kill me.
MORGANA: Hm?
DEWIN: Let’s skip past the chatter and get my head on a platter. You see what I did there? Chatter platter.
MORGANA: Silence! Death is far too good for you.
DEWIN: Do your worst, no matter what Camelot will fall.
MORGANA: Is that a threat?
DEWIN: A threat would be something I plan on doing to you myself, the fall of Camelot, well that will be purely your doing.
(Morgana gets off the throne and draws a glowing circle around Dewin with Excalibur, as she does so Dewin lets out a small laugh.)
DEWIN: Binding me? My imprisonment shall not halter the winds of time.
MORGANA: I banish you.
DEWIN: What?
MORGANA: From this plane of time and place I banish you.
DEWIN: Not even you have the power to do that. Banishment spells have been hidden away for ages.
MORGANA: Hidden away in scrolls buried in this very castle. Dilflannu o’r awyren hon.
DEWIN: No.
MORGANA: Dilflannu o’r amser hwn.
DEWIN: No, no, stop.
MORGANA: Dilflannu o’r meddwl. Rwy’n eich gwahardd!
(Morgana’s eyes turn purple and electricity sparks all around Dewin and seems to be sucking the energy out of him.)
EXT. LONDON - FOREST - DAY
(A plain and put together autumnal forest. Text appears over the screen reading “LONDON” and then “EIGHTEEN EIGHTY FIVE”. Electricity sparks and Dewin appears in the forest dazed and confused. He is covered in scars and almost immediately passes out face forward into the ground.)
EXT. LONDON - FOREST - DAY
(As night begins to dawn Dewin is still incapacitated. A carriage led by a horse named, Sally, comes through the forest and halts at Dewin. ALDEN SMITH (Early 40s), a plump and posh man with a defining bushy mustache, cautiously hops out of the carriage. Alden looks around for a moment before spotting Dewin. Alden approaches Dewin and checks his pulse through his arm. Alden’s eyes linger on Dewin for a moment before looking up.)
ALDEN: Hello!? Is anybody there!?
(Alden waits for a moment before looking back down at Dewin. Alden sighs and then lifts Dewin up and into the carriage before hopping in himself. Alden pulls on the horse’s reins and it begins to march forward.)
EXT. LONDON - WICING DRIVE - NIGHT
(Alden drives his carriage down Wicing Drive and parks in front of a townhome, Twenty Six Wicing Drive. Alden gets out of the carriage, carrying Dewin, and walks up the steps. MINERVA SMITH (Early 40s), a stern yet radiant woman, opens the door in shock.)
ALDEN: It’s a long story.
INT. TWENTY SIX WICING DRIVE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
(A stereotypical Victorian living room made primarily of oak and illuminated by two small oil lamps and a burning fireplace. Dewin is still incapacitated and lies on the table covered in bandages, Alden and Minerva hover over him. Bottles of ointment sit next to Dewin.)
MINERVA: What were you doing in the woods?
ALDEN: It’s the fastest cut home.
MINERVA: And you just-
(Minerva is interrupted by Dewin’s sighing as he wakes up.)
DEWIN: Ah! Where am I? Who are you?
MINERVA: My name is Minnie, and this is my husband, Alden.
DEWIN: What’s happening?
ALDEN: I found you all bruised in the middle of the forest. Do you know what happened to you?
DEWIN: Morgana le Fay banished me.
(Alden and Minerva glance at each other.)
MINERVA: Oh lord, I think you're a bit confused.
DEWIN: I am not confused. I am Dewin, son of Merlin. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask if you could take me to a sage or healer?
MINERVA: Of course, Alden can take you tomorrow morning, but for the night you can stay here.
DEWIN: Why, thank you.
ALDEN: Minnie, may I speak to you in the other room?
MINERVA: Of course.
(Alden and Minerva step into the kitchen.)
INT. TWENTY SIX WICING DRIVE - KITCHEN - NIGHT
ALDEN: We can not keep this man in our home. He is mentally insane.
MINERVA: Which means we must watch over him.
ALDEN: I am looking out for our safety.
MINERVA: And where would we take him?
ALDEN: I don’t know. He is as mad as the Doeth man!
MINERVA: Then that’s where we’ll take him.
ALDEN: Stick to nuts together?
MINERVA: The man has some common sense and he’s very compassionate.
ALDEN: Perfect.
EXT. LONDON - ALDRICH’S HOUSE - NIGHT
(Alden and Minerva Dewin sit in their carriage with Dewin outside of a small house that is slightly separated from the other homes on the street.)
DEWIN: So this is the home of a healer?
ALDEN: According to him. I will go to the door alone, I do not want to scare him.
(Alden gets out of the carriage and starts heading towards the home.)
MINERVA: So you really do believe that you are the son of Merlin.
DEWIN: I know who my father was. Why is this such a puzzle for you and your husband to wrap your heads around?
MINERVA: Why I’ve only heard stories of Camelot, myths of ancient pasts.
DEWIN: So Morgana not only shifted my place but also the time.
(Alden knocks on the home's door and is greeted by ALDRICH DOETH (Hundreds Of Years Old), an older looking man with crystals strapped around his neck.)
ALDRICH: Doctor Smith, have they finally sent someone to take me away to a nuthouse?
ALDEN: On the exact contrary, I’ve found a wounded man who claims to have been sent here by Morgana le Fay.
ALDRICH: That’s what the shift was!
ALDEN: What? You know what it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re willing to take this man.
ALDRICH: Yes, yes, bring him to me.
ALDEN: Minerva, send him up!
(Dewin comes up to the door.)
DEWIN: Hello.
ALDRICH: My goodness, the energy pulsates off of you.
DEWIN (TO ALDEN): This is the healer?
ALDEN: Yes. Now if you two don’t mind I think I will be headed back on my way.
ALDRICH: Are you sure, Doctor? It’s getting rather late, you and your wife are welcome to stay here.
ALDEN: Thank you, but there’s no need.
(Rain starts pouring out of the sky out of nowhere and thunder and lighting begin.)
ALDRICH: What about now, Doctor?
ALDEN: Minnie! We’re staying here tonight!
INT. ALDRICH’S HOUSE - LIVING SPACE - DAY
(A cluttered mess of books, candles, and potions. Aldrich, Alden, Minerva, and Dewin sit on Aldrich’s circular array of couches and chairs.)
ALDRICH: Before we dive in I suggest you go wash off, Dewin. The washroom is that small one to your left.
DEWIN: Thank you, Aldrich.
(Dewin gets up and goes into the washroom.)
ALDRICH: I know what you two think of me, the neighborhood’s resident crazy.
MINERVA: Not at all, Mister Doeth.
ALDRICH: Don’t lie, Minerva, our actions all come back to bite us.
ALDEN: So we think you're mental, what of it?
ALDRICH: There are dark forces amongst us, Mister and Misses Smith. I believe that Dewin is here to save us.
ALDEN: I appreciate you letting us stay here, but I think it’s time we leave.
ALDRICH: I will change this storm into an earthquake to keep you here if I must.
ALDEN: Come on, Minnie.
(Alden and Minerva get up and go to leave when the whole room begins to shake.)
ALDEN: What’s happening!?
ALDRICH: I warned you.
(Aldrich makes silencing symbols with his hands and the storm and the shaking stops.)
ALDRICH: Now will you listen to me?
(Alden and Minerva both sit back down.)
ALDEN: What are you?
AlDRICH: A magician, a clairvoyant, a healer, I am all of those things and more.
ALDEN: Why do you want us here so badly?
ALDRICH: I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you are the one who found Dewin, Doctor Smith. He needs a guide in this vast new world. Prophecy states that when the second coming of the Camelot war comes, the savior will have a protector.
ALDEN: And why me?
ALDRICH: There are questions that only we can answer ourselves.
(Dewin comes out of the washroom and sits back down.)
ALDRICH: Dewin, please tell me exactly how you arrived here.
DEWIN: Morgana le Fay used an ancient banishing spell on me.
ALDRICH: The fall of Camelot.
(Suddenly a wind sweeps through the room that blows out all the candles.)
MINERVA: Mister Doeth, are you doing this?
ALDRICH: No.
(A match is lit in the center of the room to reveal GWENWYN LIGHTWOOD (Centuries-Old), a green draconic humanoid woman in black robes and a hood.)
GWENWYN: Aldrich.
ALDRICH: Lady Lightwood.
GWENWYN: I’ve tracked a shift in magic to your home.
ALDRICH: It is this boy, he was banished here from Camelot.
(Gwenwyn goes up to Dewin and takes her hood off to reveal her scaly appearance. Alden gasps in disbelief. Gwenwyn runs her finger down Dewin’s cheek.)
GWENWYN (TO ALDRICH): Hm. I presume you wish to let him roam freely?
ALDRICH: With guidance, yes.
GWENWYN: If one thing goes wrong you will be punished.
ALDRICH: I know.
DEWIN (TO GWENWYN): Who are you?
GWENWYN: The last of the dragons. Just as Aldrich is the last descendent of the Family Merlin.
DEWIN (TO ALDRICH): You're a descendant of my father?
ALDRICH: Of his sister, I have many of her poems and spell tombs still intact here.
GWENWYN: Magic is rare these days, endangered, most people don’t even know it exists. So are we under agreement on the boy, Aldrich?
ALDRICH: Yes, but something is still troubling. If you and I both felt Dewin’s presence then-
GWENWYN: Benjamin did too.
DEWIN: Who is Benjamin?
ALDRICH: A descendant of Morgana who wishes to rule the earth under her ideals.
GWENWYN: A very very dangerous man who will certainly kill me if he finds me here.
(Gwenwyn’s match extinguishes and after a moment the candles all reignite but Gwenwyn is gone.)
ALDEN: By Jove!
ALDRICH: So do you all accept this challenge?
DEWIN: What challenge?
ALDRICH: Defeating Benjamin Fayle.
DEWIN: Of course!
ALDEN: Absolutely not.
ALDRICH: Are you that repulsed by compassion?
ALDEN: I can’t risk Minerva of I’s life on what could all be me hallucinating.
ALDRICH: You're risking the world for a craven excuse.
ALDEN: Goodbye.
(Alden gets up.)
ALDEN: Let’s leave, Minnie.
MINERVA: Thank you for your hospitality, Mister Doeth, and good luck.
(Alden leaves, followed by Minerva.)
EXT. LONDON - ALDRICH’S HOUSE - NIGHT
(Alden and Minerva ride through the street in their carriage.)
MINERVA: We were definitely drugged.
ALDEN: Absolutely.
EXT. LONDON - WICING DRIVE - NIGHT
(Alden and Minerva hop out of their carriage.)
ALDEN: I’m going to bring Sally back to the stables.
MINERVA: Goodnight, love you.
ALDEN: I love you most.
(Minerva goes up and enters Twenty Six Wicing Drive as Alden detaches Sally from the carriage and begins to guide her down the cobbled sidewalk with one of his hands on her reins.)
EXT. LONDON - FOREST - NIGHT
(Alden guides Sally through the forest to a set of stables. Sally suddenly rears up and neighs in terror.)
ALDEN: What is it Sally?
(Sally suddenly breaks off her reins and runs towards the stables. A figure in a dark purple hood and robe sweeps past Alden and their eyes glow purple. Alden screams.)
INT. TWENTY SIX WICING DRIVE - BEDROOM- DAY
(Alden and Minerva lay next to each other asleep in bed. Alden wakes up screaming which awakens Minerva.)
MINERVA: What’s the matter?
ALDEN: Just a night terror.
MINERVA: We did the right thing with Dewin, he’s with someone like him now.
ALDEN: Is that really a good thing? I think I’m going to go to the pub.
MINERVA: This early in the morning?
ALDEN: I need to clear my head after yesterday.
INT. GRIFFIN’S TAIL PUB - DAY
(A traditional Victorian pub. Dewin sits at the bar and is served by BRYNN CROWING (Early 30s), a charming bartender.)
BRYNN: What can I get you, Mate?
DEWIN: Just a pint of mead, please.
(Brynn goes and pours Dewin a pint of mead that she brings back to him and he begins drinking.)
BRYNN: I like your outfit, it’s very medieval.
DEWIN: It was made by the tailor of Sir Gawain.
(Brynn gives a light chuckle.)
BRYNN: What’s your name?
DEWIN: Dewin, and yours?
BRYNN: Brynn.
(Alden enters and sees Dewin. Alden leaves, but as he does he spots another person in a dark purple robe and hood with glowing purple eyes.)
DEWIN: You're very beautiful.
BRYNN: Why, thank you.
DEWIN: Would you like to go for a stroll?
BRYNN: My shift here doesn’t end till six.
DEWIN: Then I’ll see you then.
BRYNN: I guess you will.
(Dewin finishes his mead and drops two silver coins with dragons etched into them on the bar before swiftly leaving. Brynn picks up the coins and looks at them with confusion and yearning.)
EXT. LONDON - ALDRICH’S HOUSE - DAY
(Alden knocks on the door and Aldrich opens it.)
ALDRICH: I’ve been expecting you, come in.
(Alden follows Aldrich into the home.)
INT. - ALDRICH’S HOUSE - LIVING SPACE - DAY
(Alden and Aldrich sit across from each other.)
ALDRICH: Can I offer you some tea?
ALDEN: No thank you, I want to be in the clearest state of mind possible here.
ALDRICH: So what ignited your appearance here?
ALDEN: I’ve been seeing these people.
ALDRICH: Who are “these people”?
ALDEN: They wear these dark robes and their eyes glow purple.
ALDRICH: Faley’s society.
ALDEN: What?
ALDRICH: Benjamin Faley, the evil man I mentioned last night. Is this what caused you to believe?
ALDEN: What are you saying?
ALDRICH: That you believe in magic.
ALDEN: You're mad.
ALDRICH: Exactly, so the fact that you came to me shows that there’s at least one lingering thought in your mind that magic is reality and reality is magic.
(There’s a moment of silence between Alden and Aldrich.)
ALDRICH: Where have you been seeing the people you mentioned?
ALDEN: Everywhere that Dewin has been.
ALDRICH: Oh no, oh no, no, no.
ALDEN: What is it?
ALDRICH: Dewin is going out with a woman tonight.
ALDEN: Already? He’s only been here for a day.
ALDRICH: He's charming but also so foolish. You must watch them, in case Faley strikes or even worse this woman is working for him.
ALDEN: What could I even do to stop that?
ALDRICH: You are destined to protect Dewin, and at this point your logic for denying all of this is purely irrational. You're not hesitating because you think it’s not real, you're hesitating because you know it is. He is meeting her at six outside of the “Griffin’s Tail”.
ALDEN: I’m not going.
ALDRICH: We both know that you will.
ALDEN: Farewell, Mister Doeth.
ALDRICH: May the spirit of Merlin be with you, Doctor Smith.
(Alden gets up and leaves.)
EXT. LONDON - GRIFFIN’S TAIL PUB - NIGHT
(Dewin stands outside of the pub when Brynn comes out of the side door and walks towards him.)
BRYNN: I wasn’t expecting you to show.
DEWIN: Why wouldn’t I?
BRYNN: Most men flirt and then leave, half of them are married.
DEWIN: They are not true gentlemen then.
BRYNN: I suppose not.
DEWIN: Shall we begin walking?
BRYNN: Sure.
EXT. LONDON - STREETS - NIGHT
(Dewin and Brynn stroll down the streets of London. Alden follows them from a distance.)
DEWIN: This world is so beautiful.
BRYNN: Compared to all the other worlds you’ve been to?
DEWIN: Well Camelot obviously has a better scenic view.
BRYNN: Camelot?
DEWIN: My home land.
BRYNN: You're full of jokes.
DEWIN: I’m not joking.
BRYNN: What?
(Suddenly someone grabs Brynn into an alleyway and she screams. Dewin quickly turns to see no one beside him and runs after her, followed by Alden.)
EXT. LONDON - ROOFTOP - NIGHT
(The clear skies suddenly turn gray and ominous as Dewin arrives on the roof of a building to see three people with glowing purple eyes in the dark purple robes and hoods with one standing in the center holding Brynn with a dagger to her neck. Alden arrives on the rooftop.)
ALDEN: Bloody hell!
DEWIN: Let go of her!
(The three people take off their hoods and their eyes go to normal shades. The person holding Brynn is revealed to be DABRIA (30s), a menacing looking woman.)
DABRIA: Dim mynd i mewn dim dianc.
(A purple hazy force field appears around the edges of the rooftop.)
DABRIA: So you are the one sent to stop us.
DEWIN: What do you connote?
DABRIA: We are the Citadel of le Fay.
DEWIN: Oh no.
DABRIA: Who are you?
DEWIN: My name is Dewin, I am the son of Merlin, and I demand that you let Brynn go.
DABRIA: Why? Is she your protector?
BRYNN: Dewin, what are they talking about!?
(Dewin starts to move his hands around and a wispy blue energy begins to come out of them.)
DABRIA: Get him!
(The two other people with Dabria rush towards Dewin to attack him, but he uses the energy he created to push them around and drop them both to the ground. Dabria drops Brynn and her dagger and Alden rushes to pick up the dagger and succeeds.)
DABRIA: You are foolish, Dewin.
(Dabria pulls a gun out of her robes and shoots it at Dewin but he turns the bullet into a flower. Dabria shoots more but each time Dewin does the same thing until Dabria is out of bullets. Alden sneaks up behind Dabria and stabs her in the back. Dabria shrieks in pain and then disappears in a cloud of black smoke. Brynn gets up off of the ground.)
BRYNN: What the hell just happened?
DEWIN: Are you okay?
BRYNN: Not mentally. What in the world is going on here? How did you turn bullets into flowers!?
DEWIN: I told you I’m from Camelot.
(Alden drops the dagger.)
ALDEN: Did I just kill that woman?
DEWIN: Most likely not, you didn’t stab deep enough to hit any organs.
BRYNN: What do we do now?
DEWIN: Go home and call it a night.
BRYNN: I can’t forget about this.
DEWIN: I’m not asking you to.
ALDEN: If any of us speak of this people think we’re insane.
DEWIN: Then don’t speak of it.
BRYNN: Will I see you again, Dewin?
DEWIN: Did you enjoy tonight?
BRYNN: I was almost killed.
DEWIN: That doesn’t answer my question.
BRYNN: Meet at the pub on Friday after my shift.
INT. TWENTY SIX WICING DRIVE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
(Alden and Minerva lay next to each other.)
MINERVA: Do you think the Citadel will return?
ALDEN: Unequivocally.
MINERVA: What have we gotten into?
INT. BENJAMIN’S LAIR - NIGHT
(A cavern full of crystals and magical runes. BENJAMIN FALEY (30s or 40s), an attractive but uptight looking man, sits on his throne. Dabria enters and walks to face the throne, she bows and then gets back up.)
BENJAMIN: Did you find him?
DABRIA: Yes, Master Faley.
BENJAMIN: And did you find his protector?
DABRIA: Yes, but it’s not the girl.
BENJAMIN: Then who?
DABRIA: A Doctor Alden Smith.
BENJAMIN: Did you kill the doctor?
DABRIA: He deeply wounded me.
BENJAMIN: Then the battle goes on.
DABRIA: For Morgana.
BENJAMIN: For Morgana.
INT. ALDRICH’S HOUSE - LIVING SPACE - NIGHT
(Aldrich and Dewin sit across from each other drinking tea.)
ALDRICH: There are many things in this world, Dewin…
INT. GWENWYN’S CAVE - NIGHT
(Gwenwyn stands in the middle of a circle of candles. She stretches out her hands and forms magic blue charts and graphs with a picture of Dewin.)
ALDRICH (VOICE OVER): Forces we can’t explain…
EXT. LONDON - ALLEYWAY- NIGHT
(Brynn wears only her undergarments and takes a few coins from a man.)
ALDRICH (VOICE OVER): Secrets we hide…
INT. BENJAMIN’S LAIR - NIGHT
(Benjamin sits on his throne.)
ALDRICH (VOICE OVER): And villains we must defeat.
INT. ALDRICH’S HOUSE - LIVING SPACE - NIGHT
ALDRICH: You are the key to this all, Dewin, you are the son of Merlin.

I just wrote this in my notes to keep my mind at bay and I don’t know if anyone relates. It’s really poorly worded but it’s from the mind and heart and I can’t be bothered to be picky. This feels like a safe space to vent.
For context I’m 22(f) have 2 ex’s and haven’t been sexually with anyone aside from this, partner is 24(m) has had 30 casual affairs and I’m his first girlfriend.
I think about the way my head feels on your chest I feel safe when you start rubbing my arm as I lay there. But then I think about girls you have probably done this with in the past. Is my skin the softest what if you prefer theirs? And then suddenly all I can think in the meant to be happy moment is the fact that I genuinely hate myself. I trace my fingers across your back joining constellations between your freckles. But then suddenly I think about how other girls may have felt the same way as they traced your back in the past. Suddenly your skin feels a little less touchable and I feel sick. I like it when we’re spooning and you fold my hair over my shoulder delicately to kiss my neck as your hands wrap round the curves of my body. But the kisses start feeling like poison when my mind goes to the girls you have probably kissed all of their bodies, did you enjoy kissing every inch of their bodies, were they more reactive then me did they also push back their hips in reaction to the tingling sensation they felt from their neck to their spine. Did that make you hard also? You get turned on by that and I know you get turned on by me but is it more so then them, tell me I’m the best and it’ll quieten down the thoughts just enough so you can insert your manhood into my barely touched womenhood, I am enchanted by every thing you do to me. I like it when you start playing with me and you’re very good at it so I start thinking about how much practice you took up with other girls. You say that I get so wet but is it more than them, did they get wetter in your presence, is this enough? You use your tongue to lick me and it feels nice but when you kiss me on my lips I’m thinking about whose pussys have now infected my lips. Did they taste better? When we have sex which is often between the moans I’m thinking about you thinking about other girls, please don’t be thinking about other girls, does it feel better with me because you’re the best I’ve ever had, I’ve only had you and 2 others and you’ve had 30, do you remember how each one felt around your penis, how one liked wearing red and the other bent over a balcony, do you wish I was the girl in the hotel room begging for you to fuck me, do you wish I was the girl that broke your heart for the first time, or the countless other inbetween. I’ve waited for forever to feel as loved as you try to love the broken pieces of me. I know it’s tiring to validate my every being but it’s tiring for me to hate myself. Do you find me attractive? Is this a game? I feel like I’m a hollow shell of what once was me. But I’ve lost her and I’m so empty. I just want to be free from my thoughts and free to love you without a price to pay. I wish that when you ask why I go quiet I could just say. I’m not sure where this all came from because before you I was bright and carefree but the thought of not being with you or the thought of you not wanting me or deeming me the best is something I cannot bare. I’ve thought about ending it all countless times, I’ve cried myself to sleep whilst you lay in peacefully asleep blissfully unaware of the hell my mind is taking me to. I’ve taken objects to my thighs and painted them red. And nothing is working. I often fantasise death just to escape my thoughts, it’s like I need to combat them by thinking of worser things. I’ve also thought about taking my car and a bag and running away without a trace, I’ve thought about just blocking you and moving your things out with no explanation. But then every morning you wake up and kiss forehead my cheeks and my lips just before you go to work and wish me a lovely day whilst I lay perfectly cosy in the bedsheets that smell like home. I love you and that’s why I take every minute of my suffering I just hope I can continue suffering so I can continue loving you.

Apologies if this is not the right place, however I’m hoping to get some opinions on foundation cracks we have recently discovered.
Last week, an exterior section of brick wall fell off our house. Upon inspection, portions of the wall were bowing. After doing some demolition, we found multiple cracks. When we purchased the house, the sellers disclosed that 4 steel beams and two 8” cracks were epoxied. However after demolishing the drywall, the repaired cracks were much more extensive and the repairs also failed as the cracks are now back. Additionally the wall braces are not touching the foundation wall the entire way. I can fit two fingers between the steel brace and foundation wall at the base, while it is tighter at the top.
I am mentally preparing myself for terrible news, but has anyone ever had experience with this? Foundation contractor will be coming by tomorrow.

Spring had finally begun to fully settle over Casterly Rock, and the early season showers had slowly given way to serene, sunny afternoons. Joanna kept the windows cast open as often as she could, especially in the nursery. The children would need the fresh sea air to preserve their health, what with so much travelling ahead of them.
Daena most of all, blessed creature.
Joanna had perched herself on the edge of Daena’s bed, running a comb through the princess’ tangled tresses. Daena was doing her utmost not to fidget from her place on the horsehair bench, and failing.
“It hurts,” she reported, though Joanna had taken care to be generous with the oil she put on the comb.
“I know, precious, but this is why you ought to let me braid your hair before you venture into the brambles.”
She hummed a tune from a play they’d seen the evening prior, which distracted Daena for a good while until the Princess started squirming once more.
“I made you something,” she said after a time.
“Oh?”
“By myself, with my needles.”
Without turning round, Daena stuck a hand under the waist of her skirt to rummage through her pockets, eventually producing a small wad of cloth.
Joanna couldn’t determine what it was with any certainty, but she inspected it with awe nonetheless.
“Such fine craftsmanship! Show me how to use it properly.”
“You do it like this,” Daena said, dabbing the cloth against her face. “But with water.”
A washcloth, Joanna realised.
“Oh, how thoughtful of you. I’ll treasure it always. Thank you, sweetling.”
Daena settled then for a while, it seemed, listening patiently to Joanna’s humming. It was a play about the trials of a young shepherd. Willem had spent much of his time since imitating the sheep, bleating at his siblings while they broke their fast. It caught her by surprise when Daena spoke next.
“I wish you were my mother.”
Joanna paused, halfway through a tangle. She set the brush aside, leaning down to envelop Daena in an embrace.
“I would be so honoured to have a daughter like you, but we ought not to discuss such things.”
“Why not?”
“Because it would make your mother sad. We can be something else, if you want. Something special, but different.”
Daena was content with that for only a moment. Joanna hadn’t even begun to tackle the next knot when a small hand closed around hers. Daena had twisted in her seat to look up at her.
“My mother won’t be sad. She’s never sad.”
“I had a lovely little girl much like you, once. I know it would have made me sad.”
That was enough new information for her to ponder in silence. Daena resumed her obedient position between Joanna’s knees and let her finish her work on her hair. It shone in the firelight, a molten mix of silver and gold. Joanna weaved it into two neat plaits before pinning them, one overtop the other, to form a crown at the top of her head.
“There we are. You look lovely, Princess.”
“Are we going sailing today?”
Joanna wished that Damon had neglected the topic entirely, but he’d slipped, mentioning their plans to the children over breakfast. While Desmond was entirely uninterested– or perhaps more excited to have the opportunity to get up to mischief without them– Daena was less than thrilled at the idea that she was not invited.
“Another day, perhaps. It’ll just be me and your father, I’m afraid.”
“Can’t I go with you?”
“Not this time.”
“I never get sick on the boat.”
“I’ve never been afraid of that.”
“I don’t understand. Why do you have to be alone?”
“Because, little dove, people who love one another want to spend time together.”
“You love him?”
“What do you think?”
Joanna squished Daena’s cheeks between her hands just to watch her squirm before sending her off with a kiss.
She met Damon at the docks before the sun had sunk below the horizon, casting its light in shades of red, orange, pink and purple all across the sky. She wondered if she ought to have been worried by the invitation, given his sudden morbid fascination with an untimely death, but the evening was too lovely to squander contemplating such matters.
“A thousand apologies for the delay, Your Grace. Your daughter’s hair was beyond saving.”
“A family trait, I’m afraid,” Damon said with a smile, and he extended a hand to help her onto The Maid of the Mist.
She rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek once safely on board.
The Maid of the Mist was one of the few places where both she and he could truly be alone – no Kingsguard, no city watch, no advisors… just the two of them. Oftentimes, they’d retreat into themselves, Damon focused entirely on the sails, the rudder, the horizon, herself daydreaming of what could have been.
Being alone together was something they both cherished and had unfortunately found little time for in recent weeks. Joanna’s residual anger aside, Damon had been too preoccupied with the Great Council to escape. Once again, they were left to pretend that things were simpler, and that they’d never ceased taking the opportunity to enjoy each other’s company in contented silence.
Once Casterly Rock was far enough behind them and Damon had set the sails, they found each other. Damon had kicked off his boots and sat himself by the rudder, leaving a place for Joanna to sidle up against him. It was quiet, save for the lapping of the waves, and slowly she could feel the tension they’d boarded with melting away.
“My sister will be arriving soon.” It was Damon who broke the silence after a time.
“I have everything in hand. You needn’t worry.”
“I’m worrying about the things that cannot be in hand. Such as my sister herself.”
“I think you forget how well I know your sister.”
“Knew my sister.” He looked down at her, nestled in the crook of his arm, and raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten the reception she gave you in Oldtown?”
“I had other things on my mind. Seeing you again, mainly. Besides, we’ve always had that sort of relationship. The push and pull.”
“Another thing about women I suppose I’ll never understand.”
She looked up to see him smiling; she hated that she could forgive that sort of grin so readily. Doubly so now that their son shared one that looked much the same. She swatted him before settling back into his arm.
“Don’t spoil the moment, Damon Lannister.”
He squeezed her tighter to himself.
“I’m glad we have this moment.”
Her throat suddenly felt unbearably tight. Every conversation they’d had as of late had been tinged with a sense of foreboding, as though a fortune teller had promised Damon that his death waited just around the corner.
“The children are displeased with their new wardrobes.”
“Oh?”
“Well, Willem didn’t fuss at least, and Daena is positively delighted we’ll match. Desmond, however… was very unhappy. Especially about the stiffness of his shirt collars.”
“Hm. There will be more than just the children unhappy with a matching ensemble.”
“I don’t mean to offend. In truth, if I thought it bothered you, I never would have suggested it.”
Damon pulled away to look her in the eyes. “No, it doesn’t bother me. Quite the opposite, in fact. It brings me great pleasure to see our family presented as it ought to be.” He leaned back into their embrace. “It’s only my sister I was thinking of,” he explained. “Though nothing will be able to appease Ashara in this regard, and so half measures are whole wastes of our time.”
“Ashara is hardly the sort to be unhappy without reason.”
“I don’t mean to say she hasn’t her reasons, only that those reasons needn’t beckon me to action. I cannot fix the world’s unhappiness, Joanna, but I can try to make my children happy. I can try to make you happy. Tell me how I can make you happy.”
“I am the most happy.”
“Hm. And yet not the most believable.”
She scowled at him then, though it was only half meant, and quickly soothed when he offered her an apology kiss in turn.
“I have something for you.”
“I’ve heard that from one Lannister already today.”
“Oh?”
“Daena made me a washcloth.”
“Ah, is that what that was?”
“As though you could ever present a gift even half as worthy – handmade, thoughtful.”
Damon raised an eyebrow playfully. “What I have for you is handmade, just… Well, not by my own hands, necessarily. And thoughtful? I hope so. A great deal of thought went into it. All the thoughts I have, in fact.”
“Well, not to be greedy but get on with it then.”
“Wait here.” He got up, taking care not to disturb her, and moved to the cabin.
Joanna pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin atop them. The breeze off the Sunset Sea was warm. Spring has truly settled in and she decided that should summer never come, that would be fine enough. This was fine enough – for both of them.
When Damon returned he was carrying a small leather pouch in his hands, which he held with care as he took his seat back beside her on the deck.
“I hope it isn’t another washcloth, darling, because I already have a favourite.”
“Here, see for yourself.” He gingerly passed her the bag, not being able to contain a final, “careful,” as he did so.
Joanna opened the bag carefully to find a set of jewels– necklace, earrings, bracelet and small sunburst tiara, all in the most dazzling matching rubies.
“These are Lannister jewels.”
“They’re your jewels.”
“No, they’re–”
“They’re yours, Joanna. For decades now, they’ve been set aside for you.”
Joanna felt almost afraid to touch them, still holding the open satchel and staring at the treasure within. When she reached a hand forward, her fingers were trembling and she could not bring herself to continue.
“Put them on,” Damon insisted.
“No, you put them on me.”
He obeyed, taking back the satchel and then sitting up properly to clasp the necklace around her throat, the earrings on her ears, the teeth of the tiara’s comb in her hair, the bracelet around her slender wrist. The last she could see glittering in the sun reflected off the Sunset Sea.
She wished she could see the rest of them.
“Well, how do I look? Like the Lady of the Rock?” It felt strange to say out loud. They’d been dancing around the subject for so long.
“You’ve always looked like the Lady of the Rock, Joanna. Now you look like my wife.”
He had always been the only one who could make her blush.
“I’d say to never take them off, but you do have to sleep, I suppose.”
She laughed, feeling light and breathless as she tilted her wrist to watch the gold of her bracelet catch the gold of sunlight.
“I wonder,” Damon said, “how it would be for you to do so in my bed once more.”
“I have been sleeping in your bed, Damon.” Joanna refused to let him be coy. “Are you asking me to bed you properly?”
If he were embarrassed, he was trying not to let it show and Joanna delighted in that.
“I am the Lord of the Rock, am I not? What am I to do with its Lady?”
“I think you’ll be disappointed when you find that this lady does as she pleases.”
As if he’d taken it for a challenge, Damon leaned over to slide an arm around her waist, pressing his forehead against hers. She could feel her hair brush the floorboards of the deck, and at once wanted to feel them under her back.
“You’re my wife, Joanna,” he said, murmuring the words as he buried his face in her neck, the heavy gold and ruby earrings becoming tangled in his windswept curls. “I want to have another child with you – I want to have seven children with you. It’s a holy number, Joanna, don’t you see?”
“Well, I do believe we made our last on this boat…” With his lips against her throat she found it harder to come up with the right words – the sensible word – no. That no, it was too risky, that no, they had gone far too far already, that no, to push even further now would be taunting the very gods themselves with–
“Six more to go, then.”
“Damon…”
“If my life were to end tomorrow, my only regret would be that I didn't spend more of it with you, Joanna, that I didn't leave this world without leaving more of you and I together in it.”
“Don’t talk like that, you aren’t–”
“But we can fix that – we can fix something at least, right now.”
Joanna slid her fingers into his messy hair, the golden bracelet disappearing into golden curls. She knew what was sensible, but The Maid of the Mist was hardly a place to be sensible. It was home, after all. For all of them.

I recently bought myself an S24 Ultra and I'm unbelievably happy about the phone.
I think the camera is great, the battery lasts me like 2 days without charging. Gaming on the phone feels smooth and all the software is really helpful that samsung includes. I've had 0 issues with anything screen related.
People say that the camera sucks in darker environments, but my mind is blown by how good night time photography is with it.
The only complaint I have is that the finger scanner could be a bit more consistent, that's about it.
For me the S24 Ultra is the peak of modern day standards in every way.
I see so many people complaining about "my battery isn't lasting my whole 12h gaming session even though I charged it to 80%" or "the screen is way too bright/dark when laying in bed".
Just make use of your phone and charge it with the smart setting or adjust the brightness so it's not too bright...
There's so many more dumb examples I could quite from this subreddit. At the end of the day it's a phone. It's not a professional camera, pc or a pair of 4k speakers.
Have realistic expectations. The more expensive a phone is the lower value you get for the money. This applies to everything you buy.
People make it seem like the S22 beats the S24U in every way, or how their 2000s nokia has louder speakers...
Thank you for reading. :)

I own Razr+ 2023 since November 2023, used it very carefully, but still got the rainbow line on the folding area two days ago. I know this issue is covered by warranty, but I'm currently in a country where we have no authorized service centers which can replace the screen protector so I've planned to solve the issue myself in advance.
Basically I've expected it to appear sooner or later, so a couple of months ago I've ordered a 3-pack of Orzero TPU screen protectors to replace the failed protection film myself. Spoiler: everything went great.
Main thing to remember if you got the rainbow lines: under any circumstances, DO NOT fold the phone after that until protector is replaced! Below I'll explain why:
So, first of all I had to remove the failed stock protective film. This is the most dangerous part of the process, as you have to be very careful to not to damage the screen itself. Stock protector is glued very well, but to remove it you have to use only something soft: your fingernails is the best possible option. Absolutely no metal tools should be involved or even the plastic picks for cellphones. I've gently picked the lower corner of screen protector by my nail and then slowly and carefully peeled it off. Protector left a lot of glue residue, which I then cleaned off using soft cloth soaked in ethyl alcohol (rubbing alcohol should work fine too I guess).
Then I've inspected the peeled off protector film to see what these rainbow lines are, and yep, it's cracks. And they are VERY nasty. The thing is what stock film seems made from a pretty hard but thin plastic. And when it cracked, and then fold, it forms a razor sharp edge at the place of a crack. It's so sharp you can slice your finger with it! It seems like if you will not remove the cracked protector immediately and will fold the phone, it will absolutely slice the screen below!
Motorola team, please, inform the engineering team: the protector film plastic is way too hard and forms the razor sharp edges when cracked!!! Go with something like soft TPU for Razr 50!
So, the main thing when you got the rainbow lines: under any circumstances, DO NOT fold the phone after that! You will absolutely destroy the screen by doing that!
After peeling off the failed protector and cleaning the glue residue I've moved on with third-party protective film installation, it was made of soft TPU which can't crack like that, so everything should be fine now I guess. In any case I now have a couple spare films. One thing to remember when applying the film is to stick to manual, it's very easy. Just be careful, remember the screen is very soft so don't apply the force to it. Another thing: if you will get a couple of weird bubbles under the film, which you can't push to the sides, leave them alone! It seems like these replacement films made of soft TPU are kind of self-curing. Small bubbles I were unable to push out just disappeared on theirs own after roughly 12 hours. So before deciding if application of new screen protector was successful or not, give it at least a day to settle down.

I've never done this before as in I've never made a post on reddit. I'm a pretty private individual and I think previous trauma in my life has made it difficult for me to want to reach out/trust people. This may be one of the reasons I'm where I'm at now. Onto the vent... WARNING its a LONG READ
I (27F) am in a relationship with BF (32M). We have been together for almost 4 years.... I moved in with him close to the end of 2021. We met during the start of the pandemic as coworkers, and he had just moved from a very conservative, southern state. I also moved from a state with similar.. views and social standards? as he did but this was almost 8 years ago for me at the time. We both live on the west coast now. Just for context here.
When I first met this guy I was about 5 months out of a very long, abusive relationship. I spent almost 7 years with my high-school sweetheart and it was very tumultuous, long story short I finally realized I needed to leave that when after a suicide attempt (at the hand of being broken down by my ex and truly thinking I would be doing those in my life a favor) and when he (luckily) called our friends - because even tho he constantly told me I should kill myself i guess actually trying was "crazy" of me to do... my friends showed up and gave me the intervention I needed and I started going to therapy. Over time with all the realizations through getting help, making adjustments in my life, and still undergoing abuse I finally snapped out of it and realized I wasn't the problem, and I needed to leave the relationship.
So needless to say, I was vulnerable when I met BF, and while he didn't know the extent of things, he definetly knew how fresh my breakup was. This didn't seem to deter him at all. I did my best to tell him I needed to take my time in a lot of ways, and he gave the impression he was being patient, but really I just think he did a good job of dressing up his impatience with love bombing, so he did a good job of making me feel loved and cared for and safe, I think I gave into a lot of things too early.
We started dating a few months into me meeting him, and he seemed wonderful. Patient, open minded, he really gave me this idea that where he was from he knew he stood out, and moved where he moved to fit in with people that he could vibe with better. This meant in my eyes we shouldn't have too many issues agreeing on a lot of views. To put it simply. I'm not very political, but I do find that some people with the extreme side of conservative values tend to take issue with ME, just existing with tattoos and being a strong willed woman who likes her independence and not being told that im supposed to stay in the kitchen or whatever.... but let me be clear. I've always been the "mom friend" and I tend to take a caregiver role a lot. I think he liked that about me. He also always told me how cool it was that I was against the grain, cool that im closer to vegetarian than not, cool i dye my hair, ect.
Well fast forward to almost a year in and im realizing this dude is very clingy. He wants one of us to be at eachothers house every night. He's getting jelous all the time over me having to work with men for BUSINESS REASONS. literally one night he saw me post a snapchat story inside my house and he saw I still had shoes on and I had to spend like an hour convincing him that just because it was late and I still had shoes on that doesn't mean there's someone in my house that I'm lying about??? Anyways, the accusations of me cheating finally did die down when I blew up on him one day and told him I've never cheated on anyone in my life and I won't put up with this.
But yet I just took it as him really liking me, because hey the last guy told me no one would ever love someone as difficult as me and I was lucky he put up with me...
So this turned into him convincing me that i had to move in with him because the 30 minute drive to my house every night was too much and sleeping alone without me was too much to handle. I had the cheaper rent, bigger house... but that's not what he wanted. He didn't like the area, whatever, I tell him this isn't gonna work. I have 2 dogs. He lives in a 900sq ft box. He's convinced he can handle it. Did I mention this guy has insane cleanliness standards? The place needs to look show room quality at all times. Just remember that detail.
Btw, im very very clean, always referred to by my friends as the uptight show room house. Boy, I thought I was bad but im realistic. BF doesn't seem to have patience for the extra mess that dogs include. I also am in the midst of starting my own business. I'm apologizing every day, doing my best, but there are still boxes taking up space because WE LIVE IN A BOX.
I quickly learn that BF has a violent streak and alcoholism. Not towards me, but objects. One day he's drunk and screams in my face that I'm a bitch and I don't care about him because I tell him that maybe he's being too hard on his boss at work (I was just trying to be honest with him, he seems to have really high standards for a lot of situations). Another time he comes home and im on my period (forgot this, but I have endometriosis, and it often makes me feel like it's ruining my life by how badly it puts me down for 3-4 days at a time sometimes) so I wasn't able to clean up some of the boxes he asked me too that morning. (Knowing I was on my period, with me having explained several times that i can't physically get much done around that time) and when he came in the door he threw such a fit that he kicked a box with expensive items (equipment for my business) across the room and broke things.
He would always apologize profusely, tell me I didn't deserve it, but his violent tendencies kept stacking. I'm not always easy to argue with, im one of those "actually" people but its because I'm f**king honest and real and I only argue with facts instead of point fingers/name calling. He on the other hand, is a name caller and spiteful. This kept leading to major blowups. I mean literally one day he almost wrecked his car( swears he had total control of the car the whole time) because he was talking over me while I was on the phone and I got off the phone and was like "dude I couldn't hear her" and he flew off the handle saying "I was trying to include important information!!!" When I explained that it was okay and his information wasn't going to help, he got angry, said I was being a bitch to him, I got an attitude about that, he ended up driving like a maniac and screaming at me until I literally almost threw myself out of the car because I was having a panic attack (I have ptsd from getting abused, and sexually assaulted in the past).
One good thing I can give him is he did decide to go sober started in 2022 and has remained sober since, so know that much. Half of these things are NOT done out of him being drunk, it's literally just his temper.
Another example of a time my view of who he was changed was when I finally decided to confide in him that I was coerced into getting drunk and then raped when I was 14. And his response was to tell me "that was high-school stuff though, you're really still not over it?" I don't think I felt the same about him afterwards but again, I took it as a me problem, maybe i expected too much.
Fast forward again to he can't live like this anymore, he can't live in a house this small with these dogs, he can't have my business mess around any longer, but the rental market has been shit, I can't find any rent that we can afford, and hes being picky about finding a new job, since he quit his last 2 while having a temper tantrum about something. Not saying he didn't need to leave them, but he didn't line anything up before leaving. And I'm having to help cover bills, try to run my business, cook dinner every night because that's what he expects, and ive also got an inflammatory disease that makes me suffer most days so I'm not always the fastest, most productive person. Another thing, this is the kind of guy who wakes up in the morning and is already zooming at 1000mph and "beast moding" while I'm shuffling around in the morning waiting for some of my inflammation to subside while I get ready.
So I apply for part time job to work alongside starting my business, I find another opportunity where if I work part time at another place, I can then use the property to conduct my business, what are the chances! I find a solution to making more money and getting the business out of the house? Now we just need a bigger place to live! And hopefully this means BF can be left to find a decent job right?
Well he eventually did, and that's nice. But he's still short tempered. He's always upset because I don't thank him for "washing a weeks worth of dishes" even tho... they were only the dishes from us eating dinner the night before. I've washed dishes every day that week without a single thank you, which I didn't care for, because I knew that it was a team effort. That was when it was clear that everything I do is unnoticed, but god forbid he does somthing without his accolades afterwards.
We finally find a 2 bedroom house that solves a lot of issues. I thought well part of the problem is we are just on top of eachother. It will get easier. If we both have personal space right? Well it's just different now.
We've passed the point where I told him if he calls me names or breaks somthing again then I'm leaving him. I told him he has to go to therapy for his issues. No more violence. Instead he just doesn't even kiss me goodbye before he walks out the door and if I ask him too, he gives me a side hug and mashes his lips against me for a couple seconds and says "bye" before shutting the door in my face. Every nice thing I do to try and spark up a good time I get looked at and asked "why I'm acting like I actually care".
Everything is always on me, I need to find him a therapist, he doesn't know how, I need to help him with his temper, it's not his fault, he's like his dad, he can't help cook dinner, he doesn't know how, it's not his fault, so these are all things I'm expected to do.
At this point all I do is work. I work all day every day. Even weekends. Sometimes I enforce a day off, but it means all I do is lay around and think about what I'm getting behind on. And he resents me for everything.
He gets off at 3 or earlier most days, he has a ton of freedom in his job because he works sales, but im the one who isn't trying hard enough because I won't cook dinner with him or spend time with him. I don't have sex with him anymore because i have so much resentment, and he blames me for that too. "Well maybe I would be in a better mood if you actually had sex with me" and when we do and it's short lived "well maybe if you maintained me better I wouldn't finish so fast"
The way that I have to sit here and listen to him talk about cars and fishing for hours, and I do it just to be supportive, and yet I can't get him to stop looking at his phone anytime I want to talk. If I do vent about my day he just tries to tell me what I'm doing wrong and what I need to fix.
I just finally sat him down and told him how I felt. How I think he doesn't realize how selfish he can be, how everything I've done that he hates about me now has been for him, how I've watched him essentially ask me to be his mom(that woman literally will still buy him clothes and handle life things for him and he's a grown ass man, she often thanks me for "putting up with her bratty son and he loves you girls so much") which almost feels like she's known he's a brat this whole time.... and anyways what's his response?
"Well im not happy either. You're a slob and all you do is work and when you don't work you just lay around and complain, you never have sex with me and you're not fun"
To say that I'm so lost is an understatement. We live in a time where it's not easy to afford living alone. I like my house but I don't think I can afford it alone. I haven't been able to grow my own business because of everything I've just been doing for years to try and make BF happy and yet I'm sitting here and feeling like I've just once again wasted my life for a man who doesn't respect me for who I am, and only loves me conditionally. I just feel so stupid, that I've let it get this far. I literally contributed to breaking myself down into someone that he can't respect and now it's easy for him to say it's all my fault and he cannot understand the idea that im a shell of myself because of how much I've put into this. He thinks I'm wrong, he says I'm his everything and he's put everything into us, and I know he has, but it's always been on his terms, where as for my needs it's still also always been on his..... I'm sorry. I'm sure it's been difficult for anyone to read this long. I am just going to leave it here.
Yall can let me have it in the comments. I'd love the honesty....