How to make royal icing ladybugs

I think its common knowledge in these circles that the first draft of TPM from 1994 (originally called The Beginning) is much better. Still very flawed, but a good baseline for a better movie.
For some reason, Lucas added many things in the final draft that made the movie a lot worse. It's fascinated me for a while now about how things could have been if the original script was built upon.
I have been watching videos summing up the original draft for a while now and I discovered something. Apparently Lucas gave his final TPM draft to Lawrence Kasdan a week before shooting started and asked for him to take a look at it. However, Kasdan refused because he though he wouldn't have enough time to make revisions.
I want to imagine how TPM would look if Kasdan or some other hypothetical collaborator got to see the first draft in 1994 and fixed it up. This isn't my preferred PT rewrite. This is just what I would have done if Lucas had dropped his first draft in my lap and told me to revise it.
Here are the videos I got the information from:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPHUWM3QNk0
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OqsD8s2W9Ho
The movie starts with an opening crawl talking about how it is a time of weakness in the Republic. The Outer Rim controlled by megacorporation's has seceded backed by droid armies. War has not broken out yet, but the galaxy is on the brink. They are now blockading the peaceful planet of Utapau to gain its rich plasma mines as well as its newly discovered Cloning formula. The Supreme Chancellor Valorum has dispatched two Jedi to investigate and/or negotiate if they can.
We then cut to a republic starship coming to land just like in the finished film. Only the Jedi are wearing samurai esqe uniforms (like the concept art), one black and one white. The black uniformed Jedi is Obi Wan Kenobi who is about 30, trained by Yoda and is already a full Jedi Knight. Very strict and by the book. The white uniformed Jedi is his brother Ben Kenobi who just became a full jedi. This is Ben's first mission without his master Oui Gon.
Ben Kenobi is very reckless and wonders why the Republic doesn't just declare war on the Confederacy already. Obi Wan argues with him while they wait in the conference room. Meanwhile Nute Gunray and the rest of the Nemoidians look more like how they do in early concept art. Much less humanoid and they speak in an alien language with subtitles.
They call Palpatine on the hologram and he is enraged that they let the Jedi land. He chokes Nute Gunray through the hologram, cowing him. They agree to kill the Jedi and things go similarly as in the finished movie. The ship is blown up, and poison gas is pumped into the conference room. Ben and Obi Wan cut their way through the battle droids and get to the hanger. They decide to stow away on the landing craft.
On the surface of Utapau they run into Jar Jar. In this version though, Jar Jar while emotional and still comic relief speaks in a normal voice and is a bit more mature. He's more of the everyman character. Ben persuades Jar Jar to take them to the Gungan city with a mind trick, this is something Obi Wan disapproves of. Ben is more unorthodox.
They get there and are captured just like the real film. The only difference is that all the Gungans have regular voices. They are taken to Governor Nass and we learn that Jar Jar was banished because he was a trouble maker who argued for more cooperation between the Gungans and Humans. As he rants, fish continuously fall through the bubble and a young gungan gathers them up and puts them outside again.
The two Jedi still convince him to call the humans and the whole bubble is engulfed in static. It is clear that communications have been cut off. The two Jedi are then given a submarine and told to try to navigate the planet core. Nobody has been able to do it in generations and it is clear Nass thinks its a suicide mission, a convenient way to get rid of three nuisances. They then travel through the planet core being attacked by various creatures while Jar Jar is kept calm through mind tricks.
We then cut to the city of Oxon (what later became Theed) where Queen Amidala who is 40 and her daughter Princess Padme around 14 are being briefed by captain Panaka and Sio Bibble. The Queen is complacent while Padme thinks they should take the fight to the Confederacy. Suddenly the droid army attacks the city and we see building being blown up and city guards killed.
The Queen, Padme, Panaka and all the other dignitaries are captured. Nute and the rest of the Nemodians show up as well to gloat like in the final movie and give some more exposition about how they want Utapaus cloning formula. We then see the Gungan submarine surfacing and the Jedi and Jar Jar sneak into the city.
They find the prisoners being walked down an alley and save them like in the real movie. Ben uses some flashy moves to finish the droids off and is almost killed by another droid while his back is turned. Obi Wan cuts the droid down and admonishes Ben for his recklessness. The Queen and co are pleased to see two Jedi knights but they are very hostile towards Jar Jar. Which the Jedi are displeased over.
They run to the hanger like the finished film and free the Pilots, however a stray blaster shot kills the Queen with Padme screaming in horror as they board the ship. The humans also try to prevent Jar Jar getting on board but the two Jedi insist upon it.
The ship gets attacked by the blockade and Naboo guards man gun positions while astromech droids finish the repair. After they get into hyperspace there is only one droid left. R2D2 who is thanked by a still in grieving Padme. She goes off down into the droid bay to be alone and runs into Jar Jar who consoles her. This starts Padmes turn towards liking the Gungans instead of being bigoted towards them.
Meanwhile Ben and Obi Wan look through the planets accessible through their damaged hyperdrive and only find one inhabited world. Tatooine, which most of the royal guards/pilots are horrified about. Still they have no choice so they land. Padme goes with the Jedi despite protests. She wants to see another planet and get some fresh air after what just happened. Panaka lets her go reluctantly because she has two Jedi to guard her. Jar Jar also goes with them because the Utapau humans say he's "stinking the ship up".
We then cut to Utapau again where Nute Gunray and the Nemoidians are talking to captured scientists about their cloning program. They look at something in a cloning tank and look impressed. Then a hologram droid walks in projecting Darth Sidious. He castigates them for their failure in letting the princess get away and they grovel before him again. Darth Sidious says its no matter, as he will send his apprentice, Darth Maul. The Sith warrior himself looks even scarier than in the film we got with him looking like the concept art, he also has blood red robes.
We cut to a balcony on Coruscant where master and apprentice talk. Maul speaks more than in TPM and says how eager he is to get revenge on the jedi, they are no match for me yada yada.
Back on Tatooine in Mos Espa we see our heroes trying to get the part they need. It is a rowdy place and a leering slimy alien (Sebulba but we don't know that yet) tries to touch Padme arm but she elbows him and after that the crowd gives them a wide berth. Obi Wan and Ben sense something, an overpowering aura of the force. They follow it and find themselves in front of Wattos junk shop.
They meet Anakin who is 14 the same age as Padme. He is mature for his age and has a bit of a chip on his shoulder from being a slave. We also meet Watto but he resists the mind tricks because of his strong will, not because of his species. Things go similarly, though the dialogue would be much better, no "are you an angel" in this version. Jar Jar still clumsily breaks a few things but it is more toned down. Watto also hits Anakin and tells him to get back to work. Ben grabs Wattos arms as he is about to hit him again while Obi Wan helps him to his feet.
The heroes get nowhere with Watto especially after stopping Wattos abuse and a sandstorm starts to blow in so Anakin offers to take them to his place. We meet Anakin's adopted mother Shmi Lars and her son Owen Lars who is older (19) and very protective of his little brother. At the dinner scene we learn about Anakin's Podracing (how he's nicknamed Skywalker) and how many people gamble on it for huge sums of money. Ben gets an Idea while we also see just how rare Jedi actually are in most of the galaxy with Owen calling them wizards.
We then see Anakin working on his Pod while talking to Padme. They both share their own struggle going up. Padme says she's never met anyone like Anakin while Anakin says he's never met anyone like her either. He then kisses her on the cheek while Jar Jar (who was watching out of boredom) jumps in surprise. Meanwhile we see the Jedi helping Shmi and Owen with the dishes.
The topic of Anakin's father comes up. We learn that Shmi's sister left Tatooine when she was young in search of adventure. Years later she came back and gave Shmi baby Anakin begging her to take care of him before leaving. She had a lightsaber on her belt same as the two Jedi now. She also tell them how Anakin is special and can see things before they happen, just like her sister.
Ben says Anakin needs to be trained as a Jedi while Obi Wan resists the idea saying he's too old. He's all about giving the family their freedom but not taking along Anakin. Owen is Obi Wans side, saying Anakin's head is already off in the clouds as it is. Being a Jedi won't help him, he needs to be grounded and down to earth. His idealism is going to get him killed. Shmi isn't sure which side to take in the argument and defers judgement until after Anakin hopefully wins the podrace tomorrow.
Ben goes out and talks to Anakin and tells him about the Jedi and the Sith. We get a whole spiel about how strong Anakin is and how he would be a great asset to the order. Meanwhile, Darth Mauls ship lands on Tatooine at dusk and he sets out different probes to find the Jedi and the Princess. He smiles evilly to himself, showing rotting teeth.
The pod racing stuff is basically the same, only Padme is outraged when Sebulba threatens Anakin and Ben/Obi Wan manage to get the freedom of Owen and Shmi as well by trickery (not sure how). There is no two headed announcer and no Jabba cameo either. At the end, in desperation, Anakin uses his force powers to crash Sebulbas pod killing him. Nobody notices that Anakin used the force except the two jedi who look on in concern
While everyone else gathers around Anakin's pod to celebrate Ben and Obi Wan have a heated argument in the shadows of the bleachers. Obi Wan takes this as a reason why Anakin shouldn't be trained while Ben thinks that it would be better to teach Anakin before he falls down the path of evil. Eventually they agree to let Anakin decide, Obi Wan saying he'll probably want to stay with his family.
However Anakin decides to go. His mother respects his decision and is proud of him while Owen is furious, but accepts the decision as well but telling Anakin that one day he'll regret his choice and when he does he's always welcome to come live with them again. The family hugs while everyone else just kind stands around.
They walk back through the desert when they encounter a probe droid. Obi Wan slashes it with his lightsaber and tells everyone to run. Everyone runs inside while Maul approaches in his speeder bike. The fight goes differently as it is a two one one fight. They all exhibit powers never seen in the original trilogy like levitating objects swirling around them, going super fact, and slow motion. Basically a Matrix fight with lightsabers before they both jump onto the ship.
The scenes as they travel to Coruscant are similar. Anakin and Padme miss their parents etc. They then arrive at Coruscant and it is basically like the finished movie in design. They land and meet Chancellor Valorem, Senator Palpatine, and Qui Gon Jinn. Qui Gon hugs Ben like a son while Palpatine talks to Padme. Padme then talks to Jar Jar about how she doesn't understand the rift between the Gungans and the Humans. We then learn that the Gungans have a large army. Padme has an idea and decides to go back to Utapau.
The senate scenes are cut down dramatically. Its more of a montage showing Padme's increasing frustration before she finally calls for a vote of no confidence while Palpatine smiles sinisterly. The Jedi Council meanwhile consists of three members. Qui Gon who is a very unorthodox Jedi mindful of the living force (wanting the jedi to go and help the common people more), Mace Windu a bastion of militaristic conservatism (wanting the Jedi to take their rightful place as generals/leaders, and Yoda who wants to stay the course on isolationism and study of the force.
We don't see the Jedi trials, Anakin just talks about them to Ben, Obi Wan and Qui Gon. He says he didn't understand them, and Qui Gon who has taken a liking to this upstart kid says he wasn't supposed to. They are all called in and Mace says Anakin shall not be trained. He is too old and there is much anger in him. Anakin is heartbroken while Obi Wan nods grimly in acceptance. Ben Kenobi however is not having it. He says he shall train Anakin with or without the councils permission. Mace denounces this as Heresy while Qui Gon smiles. Yoda sighs and says the matter will be decided after this current crisis has ended.
Ben, Obi Wan, and Qui Gon all decide to go with Padme, but Anakin is told to stay behind. There is also the discussion about how Anakin is dangerous which Anakin overhears. Being told by Ben and Qui Gon that he's not a problem and how he will be a Jedi. Anakin gets an idea and sneaks aboard the ship with the help of R2. He is quickly discovered to Obi Wans rage and Bens laughter.
They get back to Utapau and have to go through the blockade. Anakin is able to hyperspace jump between the ships and the planet with motivation from Ben. Our heroes then try to find the Gungans at their city but it has been completely blown up. We actually see this though, as well as Jar Jars sorrow before he remembers the Gungans sacred place.
They go there and like the movie Padme makes a big speech about overcoming difference, with Jar Jar intelligently backing her up. We then get ready for the battle. Anakin tinkers with a disabled battle droid and finds out there is a second droid control hidden somewhere in the palace. So the plan is set. The Gungans will distract the droids, while the humans will infiltrate the palace, one team disabling the backup control systems and the others capturing Nute or stealing starfighters that will be used to take out the droid control ship.
The plan goes into action and things are kind of similar to the finished film, though Jar Jar shows intentional heroism instead of the goofy antics in TPM. When the starfighters are launched though, Padme goes into the fighter with Anakin. Him being the pilot and Padme being the gunner. The rest of the human teams make short work of the battle droids. However when they reach Nute a surprise is awaiting them, clones.
These clones look kind of like Dark Troopers and a Super Battle droid had a kid. They decimate the Utapau soldiers while Nute flees. Meanwhile with the Jedis they disable the secondary control system but are then met with Darth Maul. It is a brutal and awe inspiring fight. 3v1 and yet Maul still comes out on top. He knocks out Qui Gon who falls of the bridge (the duel setting is the same) while taunting the other two. "This is the end of the jedi" you get the drill.
The remaining soldiers manage to kill the clones but there are not enough left to fend of the droids. They are captured same as the Gungans. Ben gets riled up, makes a mistake and is killed. Obi Wan screams and charges getting knocked into the pit, hanging on by a thread. Meanwhile Anakin and Padme manage to destroy the flagship at the same time that Obi Wan takes Ben's lightsaber and cuts Maul in half. He then says "learn not live not as my master says" and then rushes to Bens side.
Ben begs him to train Anakin and he agrees. Meanwhile the humans and Gungans are celebrating. We cut to Qui Gon and Queen Amidala's funeral. Qui Gon throws away his lightsaber and walks off. He is done with the jedi after the death of what was effectively his son. Palpatine looks at him go intrigued. Meanwhile Yoda and Obi Wan argue over Anakin's training. Obi Wan says he will train him even without the will of the council like Ben said. Yoda gives in but warns Obi Wan of his arrogance.
We then get the celebration the end.

First let me say, these are my opinions, I'm not doing this to start a "game is ded", "it is or isn't meta" or "skill issue" debate here.
So it's no surprise that the latest Warbond hasn't gone over with the community very well. The now closed Patreon poll sitting at 71,513 votes, 57% of voters are okay with it, while most having a complaint one way or another, with the other 42% of voters not approving of the Warbond. This isn't to start an argument over why it's good or bad, personally it's alright with me. The only weapon in it I don't like was the Purifier energy weapon. Now for the BIG but, it definitely doesn't make sense. None of the armors in it do anything for the polar planets, no easier mobility in snow or ice, no better traction on ice, nothing. They just have the same copy pasta 'Armor Passives' as everything else. And you can argue that, yeah this is still a relatively new game, I believe the community is getting a little tired of the "samey" feel with the content, especially the armors. After hearing that helmets were supposed to have unique HUD's, but were cut to launch the game, I hope this is added or brought back I guess, to help add variety and purpose to them more than just aesthetic pieces. Back to armor passives, I can understand having the same passives for different weights (Light, Medium, Heavy) and outside of Armor, Speed, and Stamina regen, nothing changes between them, for example = the light armor SC-37 Legionnaire, the medium armor SA-25 Steel Trooper, the heavy armor CW-36 Winter Warrior have the same stats for the passive. Plus 30% throwing range, and 50% limb health. So why not have a little bit of change, the light armor having the biggest throwing range bonus, with the lowest limb health bonus, and the heavy being the opposite to really define their roles. I kinda understand why, but in my opinion, if they want a risk and reward system, then I think this would help a bit more, maybe that's just me. Then factor in the types of damage in the game; acid/bile, projectile, explosive, slashing, fire, electric, gas, impact, etc. why aren't there armors with resistances to those? Sure it may be too complex to add specific resistances to specific armors, but it's not even a one size fits all, "this armor is best" deal. Think about it, you bring an armor that has say, 40% resistance to projectile damage against automatons, that's not going to help against getting butchered, punched, blown up or thrown into a rock, again, risk and reward. Now shifting away from armor for a bit, another divisive cut in the community has been the balance patches, a real hot topic for sure. Whichever side of the fence you're on, the game is about fun, first and foremost. Yeah you have the people out there who only play nothing but helldive and love the challenge and difficulty, but you also have those people who just want to chill and have a good time with their friends without having to feel pressured into using certain things because they work better than others. By no means am I saying the game should be easy, that's what the difficulties are for. But what I am saying is that weapons should be unique and competitive. The R-36 Eruptor for example, it was my favorite weapon pre-patch. It was a bit situational, had it's weaknesses and strengths, but was fun to use. Now, I don't really use it anymore unless I feel like messing around or challenging myself. Many have even been comparing the new AR-61 tenderizer with the starter AR, some saying it's worse, some saying it's better. When it's advertised as something that's "high-caliber" it should be at least medium armor penetrating OR do a lot more, very noticeably more damage than the base AR. Another hot topic, and idk if it's in the works, planned for later or whatever, and I know people will say "oh it's going to ruin the game, it's going to ruin the balance!" but I would love to see weapon and armor customization. I know people are going to complain about stuff one way or another, and it could be argued to the heavens and back the benefits and drawbacks of it, or how it could be implemented. And just looking at the digital pad for the Armory, it looks like we should be able to tweak and customize our weapons, but that could just be a set piece. Regardless, I'd like to see it for a number of reasons. Now I'm not going to advocate for fewer warbonds, but the game definitely needs some major fixing. And if that means delaying warbonds, then so be it. One of the issues I'm tired of is enemies either shooting through terrain, or popping through terrain right next to me, as well as personally getting stuck in terrain. With all that being said, it hasn't been the smoothest ride, but the devs should be commended for their work. I think there's just a lot of grouchy people out there who do nothing but play this game and complain about the slightest thing that doesn't fit them or how they play or want stuff done. But if the devs keep on it, sprinkle in some more magic, this game will go far. Again I gotta stress that this isn't to start any fights or debates (but it's the internet so, yeah) If you read this far, thanks for listening to my 2 cents.

That seems like an open ended question, but I've never thought making sorbet was as easy as throwing frozen fruit into a food processor with lemon juice with or without sweetener. And which method would be preferred by the community, pros and cons?
So quick backstory, I've been buying sorbet in the grocery store runs more frequently rather than ice cream (with real cream) for health reason but completely neglected to consider the sugar content. It is so sweet compared to home made ice cream / sorbet. I bought a Cruisinart ice cream maker last summer and used it on and off because of the same sugar intake concerns.
How much sweetener can you get away with when making ice cream / sorbet without feeling like you're eating Sour Patch Kids? I'd like to avoid using refined sugar, if possible.
Frozen fruit or juice or a combination of both is fine.
Thanks

Erik listened as Morna’s footsteps gave a backing beat to the rhythmic busywork of the ship. She was pacing, her shoulders hunched, pointedly not looking over Shieldbreaker’s side, averting her eyes from the retreating silhouettes of Lady Alannys and Unwelcome Guest, and the Lute and Harp flotillas in their wake.
No matter what task they busied themselves with, the ship’s crew parted to allow Morna her passage back and forth. She stopped just in front of Erik at the stern, turned on one heel and marched back to Kiera at the bow. She probably felt cramped on the ship. Erik remembered how she had walked the walls of Lordsport on the day Sigorn was injured, her relentless pace only hitching momentarily in front of the maester’s door on each cycle.
Soon she returned to him again, both eyes on the deck, though only one saw it.
“Do you want to sit down?” he asked her as she swivelled, not particularly expecting a response.
“No,” she said, and stopped. It seemed to take some effort to look back at him. “I want to hit something,” she explained. Now that she was still, hands clenched into fists, she stood out amidst the rolling motion of the oarsmen to either side.
“Once we get cruising, we can spar, if that would help?”
Morna hesitated. “I want to break something,” she clarified.
“I don’t think I can help there.”
Morna waved a hand in a way that meant she’d get over it. When she resumed her pacing, Erik followed her to the midpoint of the ship, retrieving his fiddle from the hold. He met both his wives at the bow, and brought the instrument to his chin.
Drawing the bow across the strings, he pushed a few bars of an old and nameless tune, rising notes wishing good fortune across the waves.
Morna relaxed as the answering verses whispered back to them, leaning her scarred forehead against Kiera’s shoulder. After a few moments, she straightened, pushing her hair back from her eyes.
“I’m alright,” she insisted, flexing her hands, “I just hate when I can’t do anything.”
Neither Erik nor Kiera responded. There was no need. They understood.
Three days after the fleets separated, the winds turned on them. The tips of dark clouds on the horizon spoke of a storm that Shieldbreaker and the Fiddle flotilla were only feeling the echoes of, but it was a complete headwind all the same. Everyone aboard knew what it meant, but they groaned all the same when the nausea, the strain, the third thing began.
Erik kept his focus on the fervent activity on the deck, oarsmen keeping balance, two-men teams on the spar lines, Erik’s own hands on the rudder. Hours into the nauseating back-and forth, he found his focus drifting. He called Osfryd over to take the rudder for the upcoming portside turn.
Kiera had abandoned her perch on the bow that morning, and spent the whole day with her back against the mast, rubbing her forehead, eyes closing every time the creaking sail beam swivelled over her head.
He went to the canopy at the mast, and gently pressed a kiss to Kiera’s forehead. She looked up at him, smiling apologetically.
“The creaking makes my head ache,” she said, by way of an explanation. Erik just leaned on the mast beside her, and held her hand down by his side. They watched their other wife for a time. Morna was at the windward side of the ship as it turned, helping some of the crew scrape clinging seaweed from the hull, exposed from the waterline by Shieldbreaker’s dramatic tilt.
“She’s going to heave if she keeps going like that,” Kiera commented. Erik murmured an agreement, watching the seasick stagger that was starting to come into Morna’s movements.
“You know what she’s like,” Erik said. “You and Asha grew up sailing, she thinks she has to prove herself.”
Kiera scoffed, though there was a smile hidden in her offended scowl. “Asha barely sailed.”
Erik conceded that with a shrug. “She’s Ironborn, though.”
Kiera nodded, then squeezed her eyes shut as the ship began tilting to port, the spar over their head groaning as it scraped against the mast. She had always been Erik’s softest wife. Even as the shipborne bastard of a Tyroshi merchant, her youth had been filled with more comforts than a wildling huntress or daughter of a tiny Ironborn house were ever afforded.
The deck shifted beneath them, and the hull-scrapers abandoned their posts to move to the other side. Morna passed through the cabin, teeth bared even more than her scars usually made them as she tried to breathe through the nausea.
“Fuck this,” she said conversationally, and accepted Kiera’s kiss to her scarred cheek.
“You don’t need to work yourself to the point of illness, darling,” Erik said, but she shrugged the comment off like he knew she would.
“You can help any time,” she pointed out, not unfairly.
“I’ll be over in a moment.”
Kiera shook her head. “Iemnȳ ēdrulio glaesas, dōnītsosi. I read charts and look pretty. You strong people can do the actual work.”
The storm’s wake had passed by the next day, and Erik allowed his exhausted crew a morning’s rest. The bed of sand and the cookfire were back out on the stern, Theomore frying fillets he had cut from the fish other men had pulled from the sea in the days before.
As lord and captain, Erik had the benefit of first serving, sitting with his wives under the canopy at the ship’s centre, a well-done piece of cod speared on the knife that had avenged his father.
“You’re still a kneeler, as much as the rest of them,” Morna was saying, waving a fishbone insistently. Kiera’s lips twitched into a smile at the familiar argument.
“Look, the Archon is chosen-”
“By the people with gold,” Morna interrupted.
“Yes, but you told me the Kings-Beyond-The-Wall were chosen by clan chiefs-”
“That’s not the same.”
“I’m still not sure I’m a kneeler,” Erik interjected, smiling at how Morna's face twisted into mock outrage.
“Lord Botley, I do love you, but you’re the most kneelerish person I can put up with. We’d be up raiding Bear Island, or whatsitcalled, the lion city, Lannister-port or something, if you weren’t a kneeler.”
“Those people never did anything to us,” Erik tried.
Morna pointed, catching the error. “And what did this Volantis do to us?”
“Enslaved my mother,” Kiera pointed out. Morna eyed her, making sure her wife was still in the mood for play, before she pressed on.
“Fine, what did we do, then? Why raid the Frozen Shore?”
“Well you did-” Erik caught himself before he said “raid the North.” Morna eyed him, teasing curiosity raising her mismatched eyebrows.
“You got me,” he smiled, taking another bite of cod. “I only go raiding where I can find beautiful women.”
Morna grinned at the flattery and opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by Kiera tutting in mock-outrage.
“I’m sorry, dōnītsos, but why are we stopping peacefully in Tyrosh, in that case?”
“I’ve met your father,” Erik reasoned. “Your looks come from your mother’s homeland.”
That broke the momentum of the debate as Morna barked a laugh and Kiera tried to hold one in, pinching the bridge of her nose. Erik chuckled, and managed not to flinch when the sailor called for him.
“Milord!”
Erik turned. Osfryd, leaning against the prow, hair flickering in the wind, pointed over his shoulder to the horizon before them all.
“Ship rising!” he called, by way of explanation.
Kiera was on her feet first, stepping lightly between the myriad of chatting crewmembers that Erik was surprised to see surrounding him and his wives. She reached the bow and climbed it deftly, hooking a foot in the lantern-ring as she often did. Erik and Morna followed more slowly.
“Merchant, by the shape,” Kiera said as they approached. Erik followed her gaze to the tall, barrel-hulled carrack coming over the horizon, half-silhouetted by the low morning sun. He could just make out a pennant fluttering at the tip of the tallest mast.
“Can you make out the flag?” Erik asked.
Kiera took a moment before answering, “Myrish, I think. They’re keeping dead on. You’d think they’d try to get around us, no?”
“Quicker to go through, I suppose,” Erik suggested. “Plus, they’re likely unsure how wide a fleet we have, or if we even want to attack.”
“Do we want to attack?” Morna asked.
The question drew the attention of several crewmembers, who quickly turned to listen to Erik’s answer.
Playing for time, Erik looked out at the ship again. The thought of battle made his blood tingle, but he was wary. Shallow-drafted longships like theirs were ideal for a shoreline assault, but much less suited for warfare at sea. There was a reason that the Royal Fleet consisted of dromonds and other tall ships. Attack even one Myrish trader and dozens would sink to the Drowned God’s halls. Pointless, unless there was some real reason to take that risk.
“Slavers?” Erik asked.
Kiera shook her head. “They’re heading to Dorne or the Stormlands, they know they can’t sell them there.”
“Then no.” Some men around him looked disappointed, others relieved. Erik reckoned he could guess how long each man had been sailing by that reaction.
“We’ll save our strength for a greater bounty, further East,” Erik said, his voice shifting to a commanding baritone. “To oars, men! Give them space to pass! I’ll not have them loose arrows on us for some misunderstanding.”
The knot of listeners loosened and fell away, dipping oars to water and pushing Shieldbreaker further out of the Myrish vessel’s path. The ship loomed as it came closer, and Erik saw men with crossbows take positions on the upper gunwale. A blue-haired, green-bearded man, the captain by his stance, stood at the prow and looked out at the passing fleet with suspicious eyes.
Kiera cupped her hands around her mouth and called, her voice clear and carrying as a flute, “Jemī ōdrikagon indī daor!”
We mean you no harm. It was one of the few phrases Kiera had insisted Erik learn. It got the captain’s attention, his eyes flicking across the ship until he found the speaker.
“Jaehor ojehiknon irughas!” he responded, his stance softening. The crossbowmen followed his lead. Not all of them lowered their weapons, but enough did that Erik relaxed. The captain followed with a sentence that included skoriot – where? Asking where they were from.
Erik saw Kiera give her best smile, and she gestured to the fish-covered green pennant on Shieldbreaker’s mast. “Āegenka Āja. Mȳro iksāt, kessa?”
The captain seemed to hesitate a little at her response, though Erik would have assumed that their hailing from the Iron Islands – for he recognised Āegenka Āja – was obvious from their ships. Their vessels were almost level now, and Erik could now read the curiosity in the man’s smile. He finally called, “Hen mirto Āegenka Ājor, Valyrīhos sȳrī ȳdrā!”
Kiera’s smile faltered at that, but seemed to renew with some quiet pride. “Īlōnda quptyri issa daor!”
The captain barked a laugh, and the reaction was echoed by a few chuckles among the crossbowmen. Erik couldn’t understand the joke, but laughed along anyway. Kiera leaned over to her husband.
“They are from Myr,” she confirmed. “I don’t think they’re interested in a fight.”
“Good,” Erik said. “Ask where they’re going.”
Kiera returned her attention to the passing ship. “Skoriot īlāt?” she called.
The captain pointed westward, presumably indicating his destination.
“Jelmāzmari Mōrio!”
Erik recognized the name of Storm’s End, but the rest of the man’s sentence was lost in a flurry of unfamiliar syllables. The captain rubbed thumb and forefinger together, so he gathered that he was speaking of trade with the Stormlanders.
The ship was passing them now, Shieldbreaker swaying as it was buffeted in its wake.
“Biarver aōt!” Kiera called. The man’s response was lost in the wind, but his smile told Erik that it had been some kind farewell. He watched the retreating galley with contentment. It was always good to meet a kindred spirit on the high seas.
The cawing of seagulls was the first sign they were approaching land. Always a light sleeper, Erik’s eyes shot open at the sound. Morna’s arm was still draped over his chest, her eyes closed and shallow breaths peaceful with sleep. Erik was careful as he wriggled out from beneath her, stood and stepped over her and Kiera, who had her face pressed into the nape of Morna’s neck.
Most of the rest of the crew were asleep as well, wrapped in thin blankets between the rowing benches. Three men were talking quietly to one another in the shadows to starboard, while six others played cards in the light of the new bow lantern. Back at the stern, Erik found Mathos posted at the rudder.
“Milord,” Mathos said, by way of greeting. He kept his voice low, and Erik followed suit.
“Mathos. No trouble in the night?”
“None, milord. Wind was steady, we’re dead on for the Bloodstone strait. Mind you, those smoke trails have me wondering, milord.”
Erik’s eyebrows asked his question for him, and Mathos just pointed past him, out towards the bow and the sea and the deep, dark shape of the island on the horizon, blocking the spill of starlight beyond it. Then, as his eyes adjusted to the sight, he saw them – thin, curling lines of smoke rising over the island. Five of them, tightly packed together, shining silver in the light.
Erik shrugged. They disquieted him, as well, but he voiced the most obvious objection to his worry all the same. “Bloodstone isn’t entirely uninhabited. It’s probably just a fishing village.”
Mathos gave a sort of half shrug. He obviously didn’t want to contradict his captain, but he pressed on anyway.
“Perhaps, milord, but who’s staying up to tend the fires this late? Sunrise is barely an hour away, by my reckoning. I can’t think of many reasons folk’d’ve fires kept so late.”
“Watchtowers?”
“It’s just a guess milord, but aye. What’re they keeping watch for, I wonder?”
Erik kept his eyes on the smoke, though his attention was focused inward. There was some fear there, and a hesitant surprise. Excitement boiled in his chest, but it had a core that Erik took a moment to identify. Satisfaction. Here was proof that he would not return to Lordsport unsated, that he would find more of what he sought most, as he had found first in Starfall.
The unexpected.

I think that collector's reserve should only give cards and variants, like what's the point in spending 500 credits to get to the reserve and then see 100 credits as a reward. Or collector's tokens, why only 100? Is it better than a kick in the balls? Yes, but I need 1k to get a series 3 card or 5k to get a cool card. I don't understand the titles and icons ether, if you want to give cosmetics to the players give them another type of chest like only for cosmetics such as emotes, icons and titles. I understand that it is for making you spend more money on things, but it's also a shit strategy, on what should i spend them? There is no other way to get cards, it just feels like they want you to buy those pricy bundles. i honestly think that marvel snaps, as it is now, is worse than clash royale in how much it wants you to buy things with money, maybe it's just me

u/ambyKittyKat - What an adorable card!! The dogs look so sweet! Thank you so much!
u/misosoup13 - Thank you for the cute birthday postcard! I really appreciate it!
u/ninajyang - So cute! All the little "monster" faces! Thank you for celebrating with me!
u/BucketResidence - What a pretty card! Thank you so much! I'd like to send you a thank you if you'd like to send your address. And thank you for the stickers!!
u/Ishouldbeteaching - You never fail to amaze! Thank you so much for being a part of my celebration!
u/germymany - I'm sorry, they covered your name with the cancel thingies and I can't make it out, I hope I'm close. I love the parakeet and cupcake card, reminded me of my birds. Thank you!
u/haikusbyka - Another written over by the PO - I hope this is close - Thank you for The "fish story" postcard! Haha!
u/rand_ston - Pretty card! It really was an amazing day, thank you for making it special!
u/TyeDyeAmish - Thank you so much for the cute card, I did make a wish!
u/rhapsodytravelr - Thank you for the lovely card and I enjoyed sharing my birthday with all of you! Thanks for being a part of it!
u/jubilan - It really was amazing, thank you! And thank you for the book store card, I love old book stores!
u/Elley-bean - Thank you for the beautiful card and stickers! I try to carry those things with me at all times!
u/SweetyDarlingLulu - It really was a special day, week actually! Thank you for the cute postcard and well wishes!
u/queenofthescreen - Thank you so much for the adorable card, all the good wishes and all the "prezzies"! You spoil me! Thank you for being part of my celebration!
u/duttonemelia - It was an amazing day, thank you! Love the cute card and that you took the time to celebrate with me!
u/travel4me22 - Thank you for the gorgeous handmade card and bookmark! I love to read and even though I do have a Kindle, there are some books that I still like to reread and hold in my hand! You're so very talented!
u/UnityB - Thank you for the cute balloon birthday card and the stickers! I appreciate you taking the time to celebrate with me! Have to say the the inside of the envelope having the matching balloons is adorable!
u/Due-Celebration-9463 - Butterflies! Thank you for the lovely card and such special words, I really appreciate you celebrating with me! I have not tried my tea yet, I'm wondering how it would be over ice?
Many thank to all the mods!
As I wrote my thank yous I was amazed at how very special you all are and how you all took the time to stop and celebrate with me by sending me so much happiness. I hope all your days are blessed, even the ones that make us doubt ourselves or our direction. To me, you are very special, you are one of a kind and you made me extremely happy, in my eyes, you are all very special individuals. XOXO

I've been seeing a lot of posts on here about how smelling peppermint oil helps some people with migraines(although, if you haven't tried it beware because it is ironically a trigger in others). Peppermint mocha creamer in previous years was only available during the holiday season, but for some reason it still hasn't gone away yet in the grocery stores around me. I personally have not tried oil for smelling because I can have a pretty sensitive nose while in the thick of a migraine and am pretty confident it will only make things worse.
However, my past few migraines I've been trying it out in cold brew based on seeing people here praise it, and holy cow does it feel good. Definitely doesn't make it go away but while I'm sipping on it, it gives me the exact cooling effect on the roof of my mouth that I didn't even know I was itching for on top of the little caffeine boost.
For those who are caffeine sensitive, peppermint milkshakes have the same effect, with the added bonuses of soothing nausea as well as the ice cream being available year-round. Unfortunately haven't tried out any alternatives that are dairy free in case anyone has migraines and lactose intolerance, but I'm sure you could mess around with mint extract in cold drinks or try iced peppermint tea.
Anyway, just wanted to share in case it helps anyone else. Also, little side note: if you buy premade cold brew(I like Stōk) it does have significantly more caffeine than regular hot coffee which can be counterproductive to my migraines. I personally just add a little water and some extra creamer so I can dilute the caffeine without reducing the amount of liquid gold I can drink

--⧼ BEGIN Broadcast Message ⧽--
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Priority Level: Urgent
:: From ::
Center Arm of the Emperor, Planet Laran
:: To ::
All Survivors of Fellow Royal Cast Broods
:: Message ::
The Emperor has graciously permitted the use of his Excellency's summer home on Planet Laran, located in the Empire's Center Arm, as a temporary refuge during the unprecedented violent Terran offences against His Holiness and the holiness of the Omni-brood of Ix.
:: Attachments ::
Coordinates and Flight Key
:: Royal Cryptographic Signature ::
Lord La'Ix, The Emperor's Right-Center Arm
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
--⧼ END Broadcast Message ⧽--

earlier

"CURSE THEM! The great houses are going to have my bloody head for this! There is no way this should've happened and under my command too! The Golden Emperor's own exotic holiday world has gone to ash and the only one to blame is going to be me. Well it was basically my watch anyways. Curse. Them. All"
Those were the only legible sounds one could hear among the frantic stamping of one particular Ixian lord as he hurried away through the underbrush of the royal reserve just outside the centre palace. The same Ixian lord that, only hours earlier, was delighting in his typical cooked boar while enjoying his evening's entertainment of a young Terran girl running for her life from a loose Laran tiger. Something about the way those bipeds run always makes him laugh. Some similarly caste Ixian would call this form of entertainment childish, lowbrow, and immature. He would tend to agree. But sometimes he just wanted cheap slapstick humour. The day to day life of the royal caste tends to get dull with all the fine arts an Ixian of his caste is meant to enjoy.
"How did it all go to shit!?! I was always attentive, and there hasn't been an uprising since those terrans were tamed for the palace. I mean we mostly neuter the problematic ones anyways, so why all the sudden aggression?", he shouted in agitation at the emptiness in front of him.
Speeding through the royal garden which in actuality is a repurposed Savannah of the island the palace is on. The Ixian was a beast of speed. Perfectly honed and trained over decades, and genetically maintained over eons, he always proudly held that he was the fasted in his brood of 16. Making a name for himself among the other broodkin for being the most genetically suited for the rank of high general (not that there was any need for generals, there hasn't been need for war in so long). Of course the Ixians always pride themselves in having no excess potential, and adapting your environment to suit your biology, but it never hurts to have perfect biology. That's the true pride of an Ixian.
That innate need to change the universe rather than changing themselves is what led to their vast interstellar empire. One that reached from constellation to constellation and then eventually to the arms of entire galaxies, terraforming worlds to the same environment they were already adapted to. Since forcing nature into one's bidding was the most sacred duty of any that shared a lick of Ix biology.
Which was why the Ix was confident in themselves. This Ixian in particular surely felt surprised, but mainly he was only moderately upset at the sudden change of situation, from being comfortable in the royal dining hall to sudden exercise.
"Everything can be changed back. Everything can be changed back." It repeated the mantra to itself. As it began to relax and turn its snarled sharp mouth into a toothy grin.
"Yes, there is nothing to worry about at all. Then let's make a game plan. Just need to make it to the space port at the harbour. Grab a ride out and find someone else to take the fall. That old royal butler is as ancient as the dirt of the broodworld. Hell, he probably was there when it vanished in the shadow of the holy empire's long past." chuckling to himself at the quite witty remark, but saddened that no one else was there to hear it.
Should be realistic enough for the others to believe. But first things first, I need to reach the harbour-master. It thought while its dense muscles powered the beastly lizard-like form on its journey, as it bound in the direction of its destination at top speed on all fours.
The blood red sun was already kissing the horizon by the time the Ixian went to nearly collapse under exhaustion of the extended sprint. He hasn't ran this far and fast than when he a young broodling that won competitions and competitions in the royal sports. I think I might have overdid it. He thought while massaging the oncoming threat of a sneaky cramp in his hind leg.
The Ixian were well known for speed. But their stamina was another thing. There bodies simply didn't have the evolved features for long distance travel. There was never truly any need in the past, as their very steady and controlled climate and sparsely diverse ecosystem on Ix never truly required much challenge.
It turned its panting head to face the way it came, gazing proudly at the great distance it made in such a short while.
But something was off by that view. Something different to what he was expecting. The view itself was mostly fine. Well, as fine as a smoking mark in the distance, presumably from the summer palace being engulfed in flame and spitting great plumes of black smoke. But no, something about this view chilled him to this spine. Craning his neck from his vantage point he could swear there was a small speck in the distance.
What on great Ix is that?
All of a sudden realisation hit like a rock on a peaceful pond. Something was following him. Something unknown and cold was making its way to his location. He was certain it wasn't any of his guards, all guards permitted to serve under the royal summer home were Ixian of course. Physically bred for their strength and speed, and placed into roles of importance like protecting the higher caste such as himself. (Whereas this day being the only exception). It did look like he was the only Ixian that actually made it out of the palace so far. Ixians are able to cover short distances in phenomenal speed, akin to a scaly 4 legged beast of the hunt.
No this was something else.
Feeling a very small panic build up inside, but veiling that cold, unwanted terror as impatience at how far he still needs to travel yet. Lord La'Ix flexed his anterior legs and sped on leaving behind a red-yellow cloud of dust in his wake.
He frowned. Feeling strange at a never before felt sensation. Like something in the back of his perfectly designed brain was screaming a silent, but terrifyingly familiar warning.
"Ix itself is an ancient world. Temperate in climate, while abundant in vegetation and small game. It is unknown how the Ixian was formed on paradise.
The old priest can drum into your heads that I'Ix made us into being by indenting his form in the sand of the first beach and filling the shape with his life. Moulding us into being.
The heretic would counter and say we evolved from a previous species akin to ourselves over the course of untold lengths of time.
The philosopher would suggest that only on paradise would the sentient universe fill in the space for the perfect beings to enjoy the fruits of existence.
Lastly, even the lowest caste Ixian would point and laugh at the rest and say 'why talk about antiquity, when we can make more paradise to fill the heavens'."
-A popular Ixian parable
Lord La'Ix bolted up all of a sudden from his resting spot. Heart suddenly beating frantically. The stars had barely enough time to shift positions when last rested his weary body, only a couple hours must have passed since dusk fell and the world plunged into night.
The silence of the Savannah made sound from afar travel better. Aside from the quiet rustling of the wind he wasn't so sure what he heard. Assuming his bored ears were playing tricks on him.
Calming down, curling up on the flat cool rock he found he started to drift to the shadowless lands where all Ixian go when they dream...
Drums, no, not drums. Some sort of mechanical tool? Not that I ever heard of a tool that just beat the ground senseless. A strange beating sound could be heard, pounding into the ground. As he stayed frozen and very awake, he could have sworn it was getting louder. Closer.
CRACK. SNAP. CRACK.
Suddenly the entire valley echoed the sounds of a few broken sticks.
La'Ix jumped up, whirling around, and came to face something approaching fast that could only be described as a cold predator, not that there were any predators on the homeworld's recorded history. But every cell in his aching body reacted the same. DANGER, DANGER, RUN, RUN.
The silver light of the planet's 3 moons barely lit the valley but what that light bounced off of was a figure in motion. Front Legs pumping up and down, nostrils flaring, eyes too close together, and pupils so large it was like staring at darkness itself.
Hold on there are only 2 legs right? Sudden familiarity hit him hard, memories of last night's entertainment stained his mind. In the name of Ix is that a Terran?!?
La'Ix didn't realise it then, but it was looking at a Terran, despite the Terrans characteristics looking different to the standard slave he was used to seeing. The pumping body of the runner was made for such long distances. Sweat acting as a cooling mechanism, making the man glisten in the harsh moonlight, the enlarged nostrils taking in all the air the body needs for this type of strenuous activity. And the enlarged pupils, made for adjusting to low light environments.
Down on the plains of the Savannah were two creatures. One a perfect evolutionary miracle, practically evolution's first try gone right, Perfectly made for its environment and was never truly exposed to varying climates and environments. And the other, having crawled through the primordial ooze, and struggled and fought its way through dangers, diseases, and competition on its own horrifying world. Where deadly heat in deserts can dry out any living thing, and such freezing poles that can turn anything that enters it in pure ice.
The man's lean and sweat-slicken form was steadily making its way towards the frozen statue of La'Ix. Just as he got within 50 paces did La'Ix sprint away scattering pebbles in its path the echoes of which bounced back from the valley's sharp walls. Undeterred, the chaser kept steadily running. Jaws grit. Eyes locked on afar.
And afar was its prey. Sprinting away.
HOW IN IX'S NAME DID THAT THING KNOW WHERE I AM? The La'Ix in a fit of sudden excitement mixed with a heavy dose of panic, began its high octane sprint from the sudden looming threat of being found. Hind Legs propelling the creature's body forward, while its front arms, which were historically also for four legged locomotion, pulled the terrain closer with each stride. Increasing its momentum until it reached max speed.
"Broodling La'Ix!" said a stern but educated voice.
"Huh? Oh! Yessir!" a young Ix jumped to attention still thinking about more enjoyable things specifically outside of the classroom walls.
"Well? Can you please answer my question or will you make your other broodkin wait until Ix falls to ash first", the tutor said expectantly, prompting several muffles giggles in the room.
"Sorry sir. What makes the Ixian race its place in eternity is the attention we put in perfection. After our home-world of Ix's climate and terrain began to change, the leaders from antiquity decreed we carry on the spirit of the home-world in maintaining a consistent biological and genetic profile that will always be suited to Ix's surface. As we change worlds to be more like Ix, we can spread the spirit of Ix to them. As such, Change is- uh, change is..."
"Change is the poison of perfection, Remaining unchanged for Ix enable us to carry its spirit to other planets in the heavens", continued the tutor. "Well you certainly paid some attention to today's lesson at the very least. But remember that final part. It's the last of the core tenants you will need to remember."
"Yessir!"
A good half night passed on the surface of the Savanna. Where a previously noble and alert Ixian who took great care in appearances and status was no longer to be seen. Instead of that proud domineering alien representative of ix was a dishevelled, dusty, ragged creature, dehydrated, hungry, and exhausted from the various sprints it forced itself to endure to stay ahead of fate's ever closing hand.
Is this the sword of Damocles that was mentioned in the ancient Terran records? Always hanging down on those who hold power and seek more? Fate's sharp blade? But why me? I was never in any real power. All I wanted out of this life was a comfortable posting with no dirt and grime from the lower worlds. Why me? Why now? Why do I-
La'Ix snapped himself out of a daze. Is he here- No, no I should be far far away from that Terran now. Maybe I can find some-
A dim glow interrupted its train of thought. Much too early to be the Sunrise on the Emperor's summer planet, and much to low to be the light from one of it's 2 moons. It was a light from a town.
"That's right!" The Ixian barely managed to rasp in between haggard breaths. Its body barely able to continue the amount of self inflicted abuse it has suddenly been put in.
A lot more hunched over than the Ixian was earlier. It made its way towards a small town it knew was in between the palace and the harbour. The emperor loved his royal rustic towns and villages. It is said that his royal emperor would sometimes tour around them marvelling at the romantic theme of a simple rustic life. Although getting a personal town full of Ixians required a lot of lower caste be forced into long and expensive work contracts as background entertainers for the king's planet, all this excessive show of wealth was partially for peackocking the emperor's reputation, and partially for his own personal enjoyment. The Emperor is almost culturally required to flaunt his royal wealth in all forms in order to keep connections with all the royal houses. An emperor that doesn't shower their supporting aides and houses with grand gifts is fated to eventually be found cold on the floor of the royal banquet due to 'suicide from accidentally ingesting poison', as was the previous emperor.
To avoid such an unfortunate passing, the Higher Royals would trade vast resources, delicacies, and even exotic slaves to court 'royal favours'. Slaves of the Terran variety especially are considered to be the most unique of gifts the empire has ever acquired.
Terrans weren't necessarily large and bulky. Fighters were assigned to the Slave Obniraks. Powerful creatures used to fill the fields on tougher worlds where mechanical services would be deemed to expensive. The growth of a Obnirak into full working adulthood is only a few cycles. Meaning mass producing a workforce is quite an easy feat.
Terrans instead would take vast cycles to mature from a childling to an average adult. Meaning growing a slave force would take vast quantities of resources, immense patience, and strict guidance from their owners as to not create faulty creatures. All of which increases the general standing on any house that manages to keep a vast amount of Terran slaves in the best quality.
Terrans weren't necessarily docile and obedient. That role was perhaps given to the oldest slave race the Ix ever controlled. The Iralisa. It was known that they were made remarkably docile due to generations upon generations of select breeding, and pruning off the 'aggressive traits' from the gene pool. However, that led to the adverse effect of physically weakening them to a point where such docility and lack of a frame to keep up with their workload led to a general lack of Ixian interest and were subsequently purified.
Terrans are notoriously independent and herd-minded in larger quantities. Similar to growing a very stubborn Terulian Rose Vine. Which only looks impressive when great care have been given. Terrans need to be given an illusion of being ever so slightly free. Which typically involves owning vast amounts of land and nature to let them roam and graze. Of course, the only ones that can accommodate grand work forces of Terrans are the larger houses with the appropriate territory for humans, as is studied in the Ixian art of Servitude.
One can only guess which species is the Emperor's favourite.
The following town should indeed have both, low caste Ixians, and possibly none of the Emperor's favourite slaves.
The Ixian approached the glowing town. As it reached closer it straightened its back, upright on its hindlegs in the royal fashion. And proclaimed. "It is I! La'Ix, royal courtier. Lend me aid imme-"
Something is off. Not a single shadow in the town, I can see lights but no movement, where is every-
After turning the corner to the center of the small town, the dustied and weary creature froze in its tracks when it saw it. A pit nearly as wide as an Ixian land cruiser and who knows how deep filled with a stench so powerful it watered his eyes. Despite the Ixian's lack of a proper sense of smell. It knew the foul fetor of death.
The crudely dug pit was nearly overflowing when he approached it. Large, smoking, smouldering pyres cast that eerie light that had drawn him in.
"H-how? Wha-What the..." he trailed off when a local species of Laran boar growled and squealed as it tore a dead Ixian limb from the mountain of corpses.
"Who could've..."
He stopped. The shock of seeing his own kind laid like broken dolls in a bleeding pit slowly faded, replaced by a numbness. The Ixian had just noticed they were of Ix. Only of Ix.
Not a single terran colour was visible in the black and spotted pit of bodies. Not a single slave body was visible.
I-Impossible...
His legs gave way, either from the strain of the entire nights run, the horror facing him, or the threat from behind. He just dropped.
Minutes passed, or hours. It was hard to tell. But the Ixian lay slumped. Body unwilling to move further. Battered flesh unwilling to be propelled by a shattered spirit.
Mind slowly spinning up again. Thoughts began whirring to life in its mind. Could the rumours actually have been true? It had read the sparse reports of odd activity from certain Ixian-controlled worlds on the outer arms of the empire. Small uprisings of unknown origin. Hardly anything of note. If it had no affect on the greater houses then it was of no real concern to Ix and its emperor.
Could this threat have made its way to the centre arm already? Impossible. But what else could have done this to us?
Something caught the Ixian's eyes. In the middle of the pit it stood. A large stake, wet with deep Ixian crimson, dripping ever so slowly. Towering over the pit like a battlefield flag was a head of an Ixian rammed onto the tip of the spike. But the particular detail that caught the Ixian's eyes was a symbol cut into the flesh of the large forehead.
Looking from the outward-in. Eight concentric rings, which proceeded to get smaller and smaller in size until it reached a dark mass at the centre of the symbol. The Ixian never forgot the symbol and the affect it had on it.
Eight concentric rings, and a centre mass. Eight rings, and a mass. Eight- Eight what? Eight planets? And a star? ...
A growing pool of cold dread rose in its guts that made it shiver despite the fair night. This dread reflected the sharp reality on its frigid surface.
This Ixian was well-bred, well-trained, and well-educated. Although anyone with a basic education would know of such a pattern.
Terra and her sisters. THEIR star system...
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
It's not possible!-
Knowing what that sound meant, the Ixian tried to whirl around, its body barely being able to heed its masters commands. Just when it was starting to move again it felt it.
Sudden sharp agony. Sudden sharp, raging agony. The Ixian looked at it's hind leg. A sharpened wooden stake was jutting out of it.
It loud out a tight lipped scream, as it grasped the pulsating wound as one does immediately after an injury. It barely had enough time to look up at its attacker when the Terran bolted forward, shortening the distance between hunter and prey from metres to mere paces. The Ixian barely had enough time to block the hand grasping the knife as the arm flew forward at the last minute with a crash.
What phenomenal force!
Using the momentum from that sprint plus the wind up of his arm. The Terran was able to impart a phenomal show of force for a creature its size. That's when La'Ix for the first time saw a human in its raw unchanged form. Great beads of sweat collecting dust on its brow, to prevent it from entering the eyes. The constant release of sweat from the countless pores on its soft fleshy skin. Constant cooling? Even the visible veins and capillaries visible from the fire light.
What a beast of endurance-
Suddenly the horizon fell before the Ixian only to reveal the inky black sky dotted with pigments from stars like a painters masterpiece. When did I look up? Then a crash and blunt force from the ground.
The Ixian had been toppled over by that ferocious exchange of force.
Barely able to get up due to the wind being knocked out of its single large lung, the searing pain in its hind leg, and the exhaustion from the chase. It was too late. The terran was already on top of it. Taking up the entire view of the sky as the terran stepped forward into its field of vision.
The sudden perspective change made a once small and frail looking slave look grander than life, grander than all the legends told to Ixian broodlings.
The punches rained down. Repeatedly. A constant bombardment of beating rained like the drops of rain before the first dew. The previous pain in its leg forgotten, to invite a new visitor in the form of blunt force trauma. So ferocious were the raw blows to its carapace that the Ixian felt the exoskeleton crack under the increasing pressure and strain.
Something cracked, another thing snapped. The amount of pain too much to comprehend. The neurons firing in its second brain just assumed it was everywhere. Its half-working eye glimpsed the fist as it came down for the nth time. Red and split knuckles, revealing pure white bone beneath—a reinforced weapon. The perfect natural offence. All the muscles moved to propel it downwards where something else cracked and split.
Is this where I die?
As if understanding its fate the Ixian's form slumped over. Its body barely holding onto the natural exoskeleton shielding that covered its chest and facial area. Fluids leaking from the cracks that went too deep, and who knows how many internal ribs are shattered.
Its body, knowing that that more movement will cause more injuries, and further stimuli would confuse it further. It simply shut down.
The last moments it had as it fell backwards on its side. Was a small running figure. Hand clutching wooden spears. But the truly petrifying sight was behind it. A vast shadow flickering from the light of the lit pyres from the hunter in front of it. A shadow cast so large, jagged, and menacing it appeared to swallow the town whole.
And into a hole did the Ixian fall. A vacuum with no sensation or thought. Just darkness.
How... did we never notice such a... monster... in their... shadow...
All Ixians were taught about 'violence' and 'conflict' at an early age. As a sort of rite of passage that any of them would go through as they survive their early broodling days. As Ix have no natural predators, they had begun to instil a serving of some necessary conflict to keep their generations fresh and somewhat physically strong. As a precaution, only rudimentary forms of civil sports, races, shows of strength and courage were ever really explored. But always in a controlled and calm settings, as there would never be any true need for actual conflict.
As there was always a need to maintain ones own environment. The need never arose for the development of fighting techniques and schools of training. That was one of the best parts of being an Ix that many thought. Having supreme control over the worlds you inhabit means setting gravity, atmospheric pressure, humidity, and temperatures to the perfect levels for comfort replaced any need for biological change. Why grow when you can keep everything the same way, how you like it.
They were a vast empire. An empire of statues.
-Excerpt from the history of extra-solarian species, Author unknown
It awoke to a burning radiating heat from in front. The large sun was already starting to set on the horizon when it awoke. Had a whole day passed? Or two?
Trying to block the setting sun from its eyes it couldn't. "What?...", barely made out in a whisper.
I'm tied up.
And indeed the Ixian was right. Tied up next to a small brook, with a scorching fire in front of it. The monster nowhere to be seen.
"No good... it's too tight", it grunted in an attempt to escape its bindings.
Going slack in defeat it avoided any additional movement. Not having the energy to spare to move. It was lucky to have always been lazy at shedding its carapace - a frequent nag from its broodmother - might just have become its salvation in this case.
Thank Ix.
So there it stayed.
Hours passed. The Sun fully set and the stars awake in this dark world barely lit up the wildlands. Only the prisoner in this cone of firelight existed out here.
A rustling up ahead caught the prisoner's attention disturbing the eerily still silence of the Savannah night. And ungodly horror of a squeal ruptured the air invoking a deep visceral terror within the bound prisoner. Something. Something close but just outside the firelight was eyeing it, glinting from beyond the light. Those dark predatory eyes stabbed the prisoner with a sudden coldness. All while the squealing suddenly halted. SNAP. SQUELCH.
Now it came, emerging into the light. A beast. Holding a knife in one bloodied hand, dripping on the dirt. And dragging by the leg, a massive adult Laran boar grotesquely smearing thick blood still warm from the cut in the neck on the dirt.
The prisoner watched, barely moving, barely breathing. Frozen with the horror in front of it as the bloodied carcass was skinned; fur sliced away with harsh, scraping sounds with the crude knife. Spurting remaining blood all over the site.
The pink naked flesh then washed in the brook, leaving a distinct smell of oxidised blood in the air, before being skewered and roasted over the roaring flames. Fat popping violently in the heat.
In this gruesome display, the beast revealed not just a fate for the boar, but a dark hint of what might come. The realisation struck deep—this could be more than just a demonstration; it was a terrifying preview of its own potential end.
It passed out again.
Only to be awoken by the haunting echoes of a wild, desperate squeal that once thrummed through the savannah's eerie silence. Dare it open its eyes?
After a great heavy effort -utilizing its every last drop of courage- one eye cracked open. And what it saw. Made it regret ever having done so.
Right across from it, the hunter was a grotesque silhouette against the flickering fire. Grasping a severed boar leg was a mouth viciously biting, ripping, tearing into the flesh with primal ferocity. Each bite was deliberate, each tear of sinew was a clear, calculated demonstration of supreme savagery. Its jaw muscles bulged with the force of a bite.
All the while, the eyes—deep, abyssal pits—fixed intently on the prisoner. Deepest black pits stared back at it. Watching. Observing. Calculating, with a dark intelligence. it was calculating. It was relishing the terror it inspired and the control it exerted. Or planning its next meal.
The sounds of ripping flesh filled the thick, blood-soaked air. Deep into the night. Deep into this never-ending nightmare.
Never once did the prisoner move. Not an iota. Frozen in abject horror.
The night passed quietly. After the feast the human had, or the desecration of life that the prisoner saw, whichever way you look at it. The human nodded off to sleep. Content in the success of his mission. But the tied up creature had no such rest. Sending silent pleas to the stars that it might be saved. But not daring to make a sound, less it awaken that sleeping horror. Or was it sleeping? Dear Ix, it might be watching me. Feigning sleep to keep an eye on its meal. Dear Ix I'm next...
All through the night, the demons plagued its mind. Until the warmth of the morning rose, and with it the sound of an Ixian cruiser.
Elation could not be an understatement for the tired, tied, beat, and bruised thing. Craning its neck to the direction of the sound about to bellow out an Ixian warning to the demon resting next it.
"BE CAREFUL! THERE'S ONE HERE-". It stopped speaking. That previous elation it felt at a saviour arriving to rescue it from the demons grasp, fizzled out like a drop of water in a drought.
That all so familiar cold remained. And the dryness of despair. As pairs of dark pupils shot back at it.
On the cruiser were tall adult Terrans. Clean cut, well fed, well dressed Terrans. Four, no Six, no eight of them. All hanging onto the side of cruiser while it made its way to their location. Compared to the demon waking up beside it, these creatures were organised. A savageness neatly packaged in a uniform with a symbol. The prisoners eyes grew wide in its sunken sockets. 8 rings, and a centre mass. They must be the cause of, well all this.
Accepting fate, its head fell in part defiance, in part to avoid the stinging eyes of these others. It felt their gaze burn through—cold, cruel, calculating. There is nothing I can do any longer.
"You're finally here. What took you so long?" The runner said to his approaching comrades, "Took all night to catch up to him."
"Hey Jan, great work", the tall militant woman shot back. With a playful punch to his arm. "Guess all that cardio really paid off, didn't I tell you it would!" She let out a playful guffaw.
"Thanks Chel", replied Jan.
"Ok chop chop people, we're on a schedule. We need to reach the port ASAP remember? Come on Jan, rest up all you like, you're still on the clock."
"Aye sir." Jan shot back in a mock salute, gaining a sneer from the commandant, then a sneaky smile.
"Don't forget your trash. And make sure its breathing still."
It creaked open its eyes, seeing pairs of boots moving towards it and standing in front. In silence. Then all of a sudden, felt pairs and pairs of hands pull and tug. and lift it up The thing let out a pathetic silent sob. While it was loaded in the back of the cruiser, face up. Staring at eyes, piercing black dots peering back. It could never understand what was being felt by those eyes and those faces.
Ixians wear their emotions on their carapace; spots and stripes would slowly appear in certain parts, representing emotions and feeling that their bodies felt in a general sense. But the most private thoughts were of course, still kept private.
But this. This was just too foreign. The eyes never stopped. Even in the swaying movement of the cruiser the pupils never broke contact. Those eyes. As if it was peering into it, envelops your entire mind. There was no way to hide, even hiding in his inner self would do no good. Those eyes. Those predator eyes can find me anywhere I try to escape to. Inside and out.
Some times passes.
"You know. I lost good friends to the royal caste. Especially to this one's brood clan or whatever they like to call it." One of them was looking right at it when they said it. It turned its eyes over to the source. A short one, with a slave scar on the neck said it. A scar that shot through his memories. A scar inflicted to property owned by, his brood. This one is dangerous..., it thought.
Jan, and the others didn't look but felt it. The cold darkness in that tone made it clear what it intended to do.
The female militant, Chel, I think her name was. Slowly reached to the side arm on her holster. Sensing the oncoming problem.
"You still understand me don't you? I've had to watch good people die. Damn good people." The scarred one one stood, grabbing the upper rail of the cruiser to steady themselves. "I hear that even if you get ill, you become the entertainment for the night. What was it now?" She paused for a brief second. "Oh I remember".
"Stil" Chel said slowly. "Cool it". Hand still on the butt of the sidearm.
Not hearing or not wanting to reply. Stil continued. "Torn apart by those raptor pets. Hands or feet cut off as souvenirs for those fucked-up parties and those fucked-up guests. Oh yea, and the 'toy play' or whatever they call it. Can't have Ken and Barbie fight back now, can we?"
Stil leaned closer to the now cowering, shaking thing, "I wonder which one was your favourite." The words cut through La'Ix like an icicle. This was the first time these demons actually spoke to it directly. And it didn't like it. It could sense the venom from the words.
"Stil..." Chel slowly got up, hand still at the ready. "I said cool it." The line had a steely warning to it. Chel wouldn't risk the mission. Even if it meant doing what must be done.
Agonizing seconds passed. The cowering, shaking thing seemed to grow whiter and whiter by the second, It's spots clearly showing what it felt. Staring up, Not willing to move but being unable to hide. It felt the absolute crushing weight of the present. Grinding it down to a paste.
Everyone stayed still. The two militants didn't move. The rest didn't seem to even have paid attention to the converstation, still looked away.
Longer passed.
Stil smiled, "Oh come on Chel, you know I wouldn't do anything to our friend here? You know I was just playing around." Stil laughed. Chel didn't react.
Stil immediately crouched, faced the shaking prisoner inches apart eye to eye, and in a whisper said "Right friend?"
She wants me to reply? Dear Ix I can't even think with those eyes in front of me What do I do?! What do I say?!
"Right. Friend?" Stil repeated slower and colder. Like the blade of a surgeon hovering over skin, ready to plunge.
The gears of its Ixian brain grinded to a screeching halt. In utter desperation to find a reply it simply gave up. Instead, it felt a warmth slowly spread. Slowly spread between its hind legs. It had released its bladder.
"BAHAHAHAHA LOOK AT IT" Stil roared in laughter. The sound of it rattling the prisoners brain with the sound. Disorienting its senses. "NOW THAT'S CLASSIC TIMING IF I'VE EVER SEEN IT!" She plopped back down face red and still laughing.
The Ixian didn't know what to do but tremble and sob silently on the cold surface of the cruiser surrounded by laughter. and the warmth of its piss. It tried to plug its ears. But the sound still came. Laughter. Laughter. Laughter. Dear Ix, what are these demons... where are they taking me? To hell?...
The cruiser kept cruising. Towards the port across the island. Trailing laughter behind. Or to the sobbing wreck of a thing, demonic cackling.
The scent of familiarity wafted into the senses of the prisoner as the cruiser started to slow. The smell of the salt, the chirping of familiar aviaries. Sound of the crash of sea. The port.
Braving a sentence for the first time in for what seems eternity. It let out a question "...w..w..where ... why... are... ... we ...h... here?" It managed to say shakily, eyes downcast.
As if in response, a sharp shove greeted it from the back and a hard hit on the ground was as much of an answer it was getting.
"Move it", Jan said gruffly.
They walked. the ixian still bound but free to walk in the middle of the group of humans. Towards a destination still not known. The walk twisted, and turned, and twisted again. One thing struck out to the prisoner. It was too clean, especially for what it was expecting, it's last experience being in the previous blood-soaked town laden with bodies and carrion eaters.
The port town was completely silent, free from the regular hustle and bustle it usually had even when the emperor was not present. And superbly clean. Not a single piece of dirt to be seen. Not a single Ixian either. Where did everyone go? Did they make it out somehow when these invaders came?
In the background, the surf broke relentlessly.
Piercing eyes caught the prisoners glance, as it wandered curiously around the town. Realising its mistake La'Ix tried to look away but the burning gaze gripped his own.
As if reading its soul. The human answered the hidden question bubbling up in La'Ix. "You should've seen them your royal majesty". The one called Stil said while bending in mocking courtesy.
The surf pounded the shore even more loudly now.
"They don't swim well. Especially the young ones. They dropped like stones. Turning all white by the time they stopped moving."
Louder now. The sea roared.
Nothing came. Not a thought in La'Ix's mind. Its mind struggled to comprehend the depth of what was said by Stil, the scarred human.
The waves boomed louder now. Louder than the sun, echoing louder than the screams of all the Ixians that must have perished.
It saw the lips of the standing-devil in front of it. But all the came from its blood red lips were obscured by the sound of the pounding of the waves. The echoes of drowned kin, thudding and slapping against the shore, merged with the relentless surf in La'Ix's mind.
This is for our sins.
Wave after wave, the relentless surge continued, each one a haunting reminder of the souls lost to the sea, each crash a ghostly thud of bodies hitting the shore.
Very slowly did some exhausted neuron in the Ixian's head come to a conclusion as to how these creatures in front of it can be so relentless, so cruel, and so evil. When pushed to beyond its breaking point, did their true carnivorous instincts rear their ugly head.
Oh dear Ix. What sort of environment could breed such demons?
La'Ix didn't remember what happened next. The memories feel like a distant dream now as he sits watching the port sky now.
The aching brand on his forehead of the 8 ringed system, pulsed in pain—a departing gift from his newly made friends, stung from the salty sea air.
He barely recalls the staggered walk from the empty inter-arm transmission office and the inputting of his biometric royal seal. He barely even remembers the message that was sent under his name and signature
And even less does he remember what he heard what will happen next.
All alone now, he stares at the sky of the empty port town. As he watches more royal ships enter the atmosphere.
He gazes upward, thoughtlessly, statue-like Knowing fate will come for them all. Fate in the form of piercing black eyes and a monster so large it can fit in a shadow.
A single thought, carried its way from above the despair to the surface. Slowly. Like a bubble in a pool of tar.
What was I meant to tell the emperor again?

When you wanted me to go on one last camping trip to try to change my mind, I didn’t go. Sometimes I feel torn about not going. Part of me was afraid at the time I’d fall back on my decision to leave. Part of me now just wishes I went. But when I think about the last camping trip we had, I think it’s for the best.
.......
I left work early that Friday so we could take off camping with your friends that weekend. We had to stop by and get some supplies at Walmart on the way. We were walking through walmart and I was having so much fun just being present and enjoying the moment because we were about to have a great weekend trip camping and I was so excited. In my bubbly excitement, I started lightheartedly making jokes and pointing at random objects, saying how this hatchet would make a great addition to our home, etc. You were distracted, with your mind elsewhere, thinking about what we actually needed. You half ignored me/half acknowledged me, in short responses “Oh that’s nice” “Yea that’s cool. Can we get back on track” And when I asked if we could get a veggie burger you told me no harshly and scolded me because you were trying to shop on a budget. The instant dismissal and tone in which you snapped hurt. In my defiance, I said “ Fine I’ll just get it myself so you don’t have to pay for it,” and You said “Fine whatever.” as you turned to keep walking with the cart. Several minutes later, we were in another aisle. I don’t remember what it was that I had pointed at again or asked if we could get. I just remember, you finally lost it with me. You lashed out at me, clearly fed up and pissed, raising your voice to berate me. “Can you SHUT UP and stop pointing at every little fucking thing in the store? Are you trying to annoy me?! I’m in a fucking rush here and I am trying to stay on track so we can get out to the camping site. Just. fucking. Stop.” you couldn’t deal with me. Me, who was just being myself. But to you, it felt like everything I was doing, everything I was saying was on purpose just to annoy you, just to get in your way.
The way you scolded me in public and told me to stop talking entirely just put an instant damper on my cheery mood. In that moment, for me, I was stunned. And I think that’s part of what hurt so much. Just the fact that you could lash out at me in that way, out of the blue. The fact that me being myself, just speaking my mind could make you so angry. The fact that you could, in an instant, be so cruel and uncaring, and speak to me with that tone. That tone that said you hated me, couldn’t stand me, like I was just a buzzing fly you could smack down at any given moment. Wondering why you even invited me if I annoy you so much. Wondering why you’re even with me if me just being myself makes you so angry. Wondering if I should have just been silent the whole time, so as not to trigger you because I didn’t know how to speak without enraging you.. It was just so clear to me in that moment, how little you respected me. And that hurt. Because the whole time, I just wanted your attention, I was trying to connect with you in my own way, trying to have fun and enjoy the moment because I loved you. But you didn’t even want to see me. And just me making attempts at light hearted banter was enough to send you into rage. Because that’s how little you wanted to do with me, that’s how little I meant to you. And I wasn’t even thinking these thoughts, it was an understanding that came to me in a feeling of hurt in a split second. It was understood through the tone of your voice, that threatening contemptuous tone. It was understood through the look in your eyes, warning me.
Immediately, I got quiet standing there with a feeling of whiplash, stunned by how suddenly you snapped and in an instant, I started crying. Tears welled up in my eyes of their own volition before I could even fully process. They say tears are often an unconscious defense mechanism, to let our caregivers know that this person needs to be cared for because they are hurt. But for some reason, whenever I cried, it always had the opposite impact on you.
When you noticed the tears forming, you looked at me with such intense disbelief and rage. With one look, a look I was well familiar with, you sent me into a terrified panic because I knew with that look that I was in trouble for daring to cry, that I had fucked up by showing my hurt, and that you were angrier for it. You rolled your eyes in such exasperation, like you really couldn’t deal with my audacity to dare tear up, and you exclaimed “ Oh my GAWWWD” while simultaneously turning away from me. I quickly tried to apologize and wipe my eyes “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to” You had already just walked off. I stood there a moment, trying to compose myself, before following after you. I looked around, expecting you to be close by but you had walked way across the store and were standing in the checkout line. You were silent when I came up, you didn’t even acknowledge me, and I looked up at you, watching you quietly seethe. Everything about your demeanor said that I had fucked up. Without looking at me, you leaned in close and said in a hushed warning voice “You better stop fucking crying right now,” like I was a child throwing a tantrum in the store. I responded emotionally, “I’m sorry” once more, as I wiped my eyes. I kept my head down, and made myself quiet and small, embarrassed that people could see. Red eyed, barely holding back tears, willing myself not to cry, we checked out one by one. Numb, I started silently scanning the veggie burgers you had tried to stop me from buying earlier, along with half of everything else. An older female Walmart employee walked by, and I ducked my head down to avoid eye contact, embarrassed she might be able to tell. I paid, and you silently checked out as well.
Later in the car, You went off on me, saying I shouldn't ever cry in public because someone might think you hit me and call the cops. You were more concerned with the way I made you look in public (which is why you walked away from me), then the fact that I was hurt, crying, and clearly upset. There was no apology, no admittance of being in the wrong. And I was just thinking that if you had shown any kind of empathy and acted like you gave a shit, asked me what's wrong or if i'm okay, put a hand on my shoulder, then no one would think you beat me. I said as much, and you said “Okay.” There was no “I’m sorry.” no “I was wrong.” Just okay, and silence.
As soon as we arrived at the site, and we unloaded our stuff, I went to grab a drink from the cooler, one that had been in the freezer at our house frozen solid, which had been sitting in the car for last couple hours In a bag of ice in The cooler, and I asked you as I grabbed it “Do you think it's thawed now?” thinking out loud.
And you just looked at me all incredulously as if you were amazed that I could say something so patently ridiculous and said “Thats the dumbest fucking question, why would you even ask that or think that it would still be frozen? Of course it's thawed. Are you an idiot?” You shook your head like you were disappointed I’d be so stupid. like it was so obvious and I was just this huge idiot for even having that passing thought let alone daring to share. You said it loud enough that I worried some of the other couples around us heard and I just remember feeling so hurt, so small, and stupid, on top of being embarrassed and ashamed. I felt so small, so disrespected, so dismissed, so ridiculed, and it hurt because it was coming from the one person I cared about. Instantly, I just got quiet, and sad. The way you could belittle me so easily and at a whim at any given moment, no matter what I said. Wondering why I even bother to speak with you at all. To ever ask you anything. To ever even speak out loud. I did my best to shove down my hurt feelings, to not let it show, and to carry on socializing with your friends. Because you had trained me well not to show that in front of other people, and I figured it wouldn’t go well having a meltdown in front of your friends.
And I remember during the evening by the campfire, I stayed up and listened to you and Joey speak. I was in the background, not saying anything, Just listening. And I remember having a lot of thoughts about the topics you were speaking about. But I didn’t say a word. The whole time. Because I just figured that was what you wanted from me. To be quiet. To not say anything stupid. To not piss you off. Because it was so clear to me how stupid and uninteresting my thoughts were to you. And I knew it was not safe to have a dissenting opinion during banter with you. It wasn’t like you ever even made an effort to include me in the conversation, to ask me what I thought anyway. And I figured it wasn’t even worth the risk to say the wrong thing. After Joey eventually went to bed, you tried to talk to me. And I was just kind of quiet, defeated, tired, unresponsive. You asked me “Why don’t you say anything.” I told you I was just tired. But the truth was I was upset, I was doing my best to bury my feelings, to not talk about it, because I knew you didn’t like it when I showed that I was upset. It’s hard to want to have a conversation with someone who will randomly punish you for saying the wrong thing. And I was terrified of doing that again. Like the way you punished me was infrequent, but frequent enough, where I never knew if I was going to trigger a bad response again.And I had no idea how to not say something you would find stupid, because everytime I triggered you, I was just being myself. So then I was left feeling like I couldn’t speak my mind or say anything at all because I could step on a land mine at any given moment.
Later that night as I drifted to sleep, I started wondering if you got that new air mattress and tent from your camping trip with Josie. The one you lied to me about. And I wondered if she slept on this mattress with you back then, in the same tent.
Throughout the weekend, this dynamic continued and colored the rest of the trip, which for that reason ended up being not as great as I had thought it would be. Any fun and casual conversation I was having would be immediately ruined by you calling me an idiot who didn't know what I was talking about. It really hurt every time and it was like you didn't even realize you were doing it. That cruelty, that belittling, that contempt, it just came so naturally to you.
And then there was the whole incident with the cave conversation. When I finally decided to join in the conversation between you and Joey’s kid nephew talking about the cave system. And I asked apparently a stupid question. And the way that you belittled me so callously and cruelly right infront of that kid. That shit hurt. And he was just watching us, looking back and forth. And I remember turning away and discontinuing engaging in the conversation because I couldn’t get into it with you then. I just sat there, in the lawn chair, willing myself not to cry, while I thought about how depressed and lonely I was. I started talking to Joey’s sweet little niece who came up and started showing me pictures, and I just nodded and smiled, talking to her while half out of it, just trying to hold back my tears. And honestly, I had a better conversation with her than I had with you the entire trip. They say kids can be cruel because they are socially inept, but those kids were so much nicer than you..
Later you were so convinced you were in the right you said “Even the kid was looking at you like you were stupid because you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about because you weren’t in the cave” And Im just thinking this has nothing to do with me not understanding caves and everything to do with your cruelty and the way you constantly put me down like its second fucking nature. But you couldn’t understand that. You were so convinced you were right, and I was wrong.
And towards the end I stopped engaging in conversation all together if you were present because I didn't want to be punished for saying the wrong thing. And I just remember thinking how sad it was that your friends spoke to me with more respect than my own boyfriend and I started wondering why I ever even agreed to go on this trip in the first place.
And you wonder why i didn’t want to go camping with you again after the last time.

Preseason, KC was the obvious favorite for EVERYTHING. Rightfully so -

• Vatira, the all-around beast who is as consistent at not losing you games as anyone in RLCS history
• Rise, the guy who slots in anywhere, anytime, and has LAN ice (with occasional clip factor)
• Atow, the high-powered offensive Belgian Freak to lead the charge

Vatira and Rise already had that Moist chemistry which made this roster even scarier. Pair this with the following things and this team could be disgusting, right?

• Prestigious French org
• Best coach in the game, poached from their top worlds-winning competitor in Vitality
• Big money, more resources, anything they could need. (SEE: PERFORMANCE COACH)
• Largest, more passionate fanbase
• Best facilities to bootcamp in

They came out of the gate HOT. 3 straight regionals and a good performance at major. Teams likely had some level of subconscious insecurity going into a match with THE juggernaut, the team everyone said would dookie on everyone for months before the season. There was just that scary aura about this team.
Once the major happened, everything changed. The "scary aura" seemingly vanished. They were beaten multiple times and almost lost a few more.
I believe there was a honeymoon phase paired with steel confidence that was shattered. Rise was looking shaky, Atow went back to the bust side of his boom-or-bust nature that we all saw plenty in his Team Liquid days. Vatira became invisible, he isn't a Zen, Faze Firstkiller, SSG Daniel type player to drag his team across the finish line himself. On Moist, Joyo and Rise were the two leading the charge while Vatira was THE anchor. This glass cannon shattered in record time.
They proceeded to lose in an embarrassing fashion to two teams that had no business ever losing to and likely will miss major 2. If Oxygen and BDS keep performing (and especially if KC choke in qual#6), they will miss Worlds but that is more unlikely.
If this current Oxygen team existed to start the season (or this was a 3 split season) , I don't think KC makes worlds or ends as a top 4 team in EU after Major 1. I do agree that the top 8 should auto-qualify for swiss and hopefully that will be the case next year. But it's not now. And KC lost with every advantage on their side. They crumbled in one of the most epic ways we've ever seen in this e-sport.
That being said, don't be surprised if the script has them winning worlds, L0L. As we saw with 21-22 BDS, all that matters is you performed JUST enough to make worlds, no matter how ugly, and that a team's potential is reached at the right time.

“This book is on voyages to the North, where Lord Debling intends to travel.”
“Miss Featherington, are you reading about the fabled Northwest Passage?”
(S3 E4 11:16)
Hi everyone! I posted a comment about it right after season 3 dropped, and I have seen a bit of interest in the Northwest Passage on here recently. I thought that for those of you who didn’t learn about it extensively in school in the small corner of Canada that I did, I’d put together a little informative post on the extremely brief (and perhaps even inconsequential!) reference to the Northwest Passage in Episode 4. I’ll provide an overview of the Passage and its history, touch on some characteristics of travel to this region, and conclude with some completely speculative comments on the literary purpose of evoking the passage in this scene in Season 4.
Also, full credit to the other NWP enthusiasts who have been making posts about this and discussing it in other threads.
A quick note on the colonial nature of this post: Throughout this short post, I refer to several colonial expeditions to the land many of us call Canada. Although I attempt to be cognizant of my language, it is important to note that the Inuit people who live in the arctic regions that I reference have navigated the sea ice for thousands of years (Panikkar et al., 2018) and that the written history of this region are often hegemonic and euro-centric narratives that were formed within colonial frameworks.
More information on the Inuit and their culture, language, and traditions can be found here: https://www.itk.ca/about-canadian-inuit/
References are at the end. If you like this post, you might also like the speculative post I made about the influences of the Eros/Psyche quote in the which is also endless academic yapping.
Exploring the Northwest Passage- a bit of context
In August of 1820, Lieutenant Edward Parry, a member of the British Royal Navy observed the dense ice and snow of arctic land and sea that was thought to be the location of the mysterious Northwest Passage. From a simple look, he knew that no ship in existence would be able to pass through ice sheets of such a great thickness and that extended for such a long distance (Brandt, 2011). Despite his pessimism, by Parry’s time, British sailors and explorers had been explicitly seeking the passage for hundreds of years (Williams & Costley, 2010; Day, 2006, p. xxiv), dreaming of exploiting the desirable economic prospect of a Western route from Europe to burgeoning Asian markets.
First encounters: When European sailors first encountered North America, it was in pursuit of a route west to Asia. They were, of course, incorrect about the location of Asia. And although a great deal of interest shifted to mapping the new continent, there was also an acknowledgement that there would be great economic benefits to finding a way around this newly encountered landmass (Day, 2006). Over time, the reasons and methods of locating the Northwest Passage changed and evolved, but interest never truly went away.
Renewed British interest: Notably, at the end of the 15^th century, when the Ottoman Turk’s empire extended into the Mediterranean and eastward, European merchants were no longer allowed to move and trade freely (Day, 2006). Seeking new routes for the Pacific, European (and especially British) explorers turned West. The Northwest Passage was a concept, a theoretical possibility, for European explorers. It was seen as a potential commercial sea route to the trading markets that were already established and burgeoning in Asia. The Passage was a route with phenomenal economic potential, especially as European consumers sought spices, materials, salts, and woods from foreign markets (Williams & Costley, 2010).
Based on their knowledge of the Southern Hemisphere and the potential geography of the world, many believed that a similar passage would be reflected in the earth’s northern pole (Day, 2006). As a result, there was a massive potential for financial gain for colonial governments and individuals, should such a passage ever be found.
Public fascination: The passage became a point of national fascination for many members of the public. In pursuit of this fascination, many enthusiastic researchers “persuaded persons of influence and wealth to send out discovery expeditions” (Williams & Costley, 2010, p. xv). With governments in Europe stabilizing, the emergence of an economy of cheap labour (lower class men who were willing to take on the dangerous work at sea), and the rapid development of ship technology, the 1600s was a prime time to set out on expeditions.
The fascination with the Passage continued for 300 years until a passage was finally navigated by sea in full in the 1900s. Over the course of history, Anthony Brandt describes the fascination with the Passage’s discovery as a tragedy (2011). He writes: “hubris, an all-too-human arrogance and pride that triggered a particular calamity” (p. 5) as being the tragedy of the exploration for the Passage. Despite the fascination of the public with it, the ice “remained intractable, impenetrable, and, for those who challenged it, a kind of fate” (p. 5) George Malcom Thomson reported that the Passage did not exist where popular imagination speculated it must be (Day, 2006). He noted: “the whole enterprise was founded on a misapprehension, a geographical fiction, a fairy-tale … and downright inventions that scholar manufacture to amaze themselves” (p. xxv).
The danger of the passage: Voyages to and in search of the passage were fraught. Many never returned, and those who did survive faced immense physical and mental challenges. There were, of course, significant difficulties with massive ice drifts and shelves. However, the relative location of the expeditions to the north pole led to issues with magnetic variation for compasses. Fog further complicated travel (Williams & Costley, 2010).
There were also extreme mental dangers to pursuing the NWP. MooSmith’s expedition in the mid-1700s reported “potentially murderous quarrels between officers” (Williams & Costley, 2010, p. xvi); John Franklin noted that the things that occurred on his ship “must not be known” (p. xvi); and it was noted that on the McClure, Beckler, and Collinson expeditions, “tensions” erupted “as captains and subordinate officers exchanged threats of court martial, and some officers spend years under close arrest on their ships” (p. xvi).
In the time of Bridgerton: The end of the Napoleonic Wars in 1815 allowed for greater expeditions by the British Royal Navy (Day, 2006). This would have included surveys of a large portion of the global north and the Arctic. There were a large number of “successful” (depending on how you define it) land expeditions that had made progress in producing surveys and maps of the region. Despite significant ongoing interest in discovering the Passage, in particular, little progress had been made. Later still, despite more advanced mapping by the Hudson Bay Company and expeditions by many notable sailors, there was still no route by the 1820s (Day, 2006).
What does it signify? If a character in Bridgerton was voyaging to the Arctic, it could take them less than a year to reach areas of the Hudson Bay that would be suitable for a scientific voyage. That in itself is not overly dangerous. However, the reference to the Northwest Passage is an interesting literary point. Of all of the places to voyage in the Arctic, even at the time, it would have been an immensely dangerous trip to set out on. The persistent lack of success for a solid 30 years after this season takes place may reference the fact that this is a voyage that Debling is unlikely to ever return from.
It doesn’t help that Debling’s odds are really stacked against him. He does not eat meat, one of the only renewable sources of food for arctic expeditions. There is little to no fresh naturally occurring produce (during the Coppermine expedition, the surviving crew members famously ate lichen to survive once they lost the favour of local indigenous groups and fur traders) and did not do well.
Certainly, it lends a very tragic potential element to the story. The Arctic, if mentioned alone, is not necessarily an overly dangerous location to travel to. Yes, marine travel in the 1800s was still a dangerous endeavour in its own right, let alone in an area as unnavigable by sea as the Arctic. However, the North, in many regions, had active whaling expeditions, Indigenous populations that were willing to trade and work with sailors, and (in some areas) active fur trades. If the purpose of Debling’s travel was only to highlight his unique interests and sense of purpose, the show had many methods of doing so. The choice to reference a notorious and dangerous Northwest Passage, there is an extremely interesting element of danger that is introduced.
What would this potential marriage mean for Penelope? Of course, Penelope’s name is a reference to the wife of Odysseus, who unwillingly takes ten years to return home after the Trojan war. In contrast to Colin, who returns with a steadfast conviction, Debling may represent a kind of eternal limbo for Penelope, should she marry him. Although Debling’s trip is set to take 3 years, it would be hard to prove his death. Likely, she would be a widow for years, if not her entire life, before they were able to locate his ship. The HMS Terror was famously lost in 1845 and not located until 2016(!). As a result, Penelope would likely be stuck at home, awaiting his return, in the same tragic fashion of her namesake in Greek mythology.
As such, not only is there a potential tragic reference to Debling’s future, but there is also a dark illusion to what Penelope’s life may look like as his wife. Of course, this is all based entirely on implication, but it is an interesting act of speculative foreshadowing.
Thanks for reading!
References
Brandt, A. (2011). The man who ate his boots: the tragic history of the search for the northwest passage. Anchor.
Day, A. (2006). Historical dictionary of the discovery and exploration of the Northwest Passage (Vol. 3). Scarecrow Press.
Panikkar, B., Lemmond, B., Else, B., & Murray, M. (2018). Ice over troubled waters: Navigating the Northwest Passage using Inuit knowledge and scientific information. Climate Research, 75(1), 81-94.
Williams, G., & Costley, S. (2010). Arctic labyrinth: The quest for the Northwest Passage. University of California Press.

First Question(s): I’ve been recently looking at the Typewriter Database (a website that has information on typewriters, link is: https://typewriterdatabase.com/ ) to find the serial number of my SM9 typewriter (thanks to KillDozer221 for helping me with that on typewriters), and I’ve seen that the Database says that “By 1977, the knobs had been changed to be completely black. This is the final version of the SM9 produced, and is said to be of lower quality than the previous models. It was produced until 1979.” (link to that specific part is https://typewriterdatabase.com/olympia.61.typewriter-serial-number-database , then scroll down to the part where it says 5100787-5436365 on the first column, that part is near the end of the table and slightly below the images of the SM typewriters) Why do people say that those SM9's are lower quality?
Also, when would you say that Olympia typewriters and also other typewriters started to have a decline in quality?
Second Question: Did Olympia make any typewriters after 1979, what were their names, and did they make them in China? While I was looking for my SM9 serial number, I saw that all of the typewriters on the list were made in 1979 or earlier. Someone on typewriters posted a comment about how they bought an Olympia made in China a few years ago (that comment was made 7 years ago, so it wasn’t a few years from now) and how it had terrible quality (I was literally reading that comment today, but I can’t find it again). I also have seen someone else on typewriters mentioning the Olympia Carina 2, which they say is “basically the Royal Epoch except that it’s actually good” (link is here: https://www.reddit.com/typewriters/comments/onig7n/picked_up_an_olympia_carina_2_basically_the_royal/). I looked it up, and it was apparently made in 2013.

Before anyone jumps in here offering solutions -- I'm a moderator of /interstitiacystitis and have had this disease since 2007. I know all available treatments (https://www.ichelp.org/ic-bps-treatment-guideline/), and spoiler alert: There's been no major medication breakthroughs since the 90s with Elmiron, something that only works in a small amount of people and is $500 a month. Pelvic floor physical therapy is currently the most effective treatment we have. And that's what this post is about.
I also have endometriosis found incidentally, could maybe be causing extra inflammation, but bladder pain is the only thing that I deal with.
-----------------
My IC pain is currently under control and I'm at 0 pain as long as I don't eat any food with flavor or take any medication outside of Claritin or a very, very small percentage of various drugs that don't flare me.
People get sick. As we age we get health issues that pills can fix easily. But I can't. I can't take anything without severe, quality of life ending bladder pain. Antibiotics flare me terribly, but those are temporary and I have to take off work for the duration (1 or 2 weeks) that I'm on them. It's a great strain on my career. I can't have sex, because the risk of missing a week or more of work due to a UTI is too great.
I'm making it okay with these severe restrictions on my quality of life. It's not perfect, but its livable.
But at some point, statistically, I will end up with something chronic that needs daily medication for the rest of my list. Statins, blood pressure medications, hormonal treatments for menopause, cancer treatment, thyroid medications, and so many others that are simple pills that stop you from dying or facing permanent disfigurement.
I can't take any of these. These all flare me and death would be preferred to the hell of feeling like I'm about to piss my pants 24/7 and agonizing pain that feels like my urethra is being raped by a searing hot ice pick held over a flame for the rest of my life.
No one has advice. No medical professional has any suggestions. There's absolutely no research into helping IC patients take life-saving drugs. I'm stable and pain free for now, and that's really all that they focus on. Doctors tell me I'll have to face the issue when I get there and try not to worry about it now, but I don't want to die young.
I'm in my mid 30s, and at the first onset one of these issues I'm dead. I don't think I'll make it to 50 because some of these things run in my family. My fellow ICers all share the same sentiment.
I repeat: There has been no major treatment breakthrough since the 90s.
The current medication that I'm on keeping me pain free isn't even for IC. It's an endometriosis drug that would likely help the pain of a lot of women with IC with or without endometriosis, because a lot of our pain has a hormonal component to it. But there is 0 research into the hormonal component of our disease. A lot of IC patients who get pregnant go into remission for years, but there is 0 research into why and how to replicate that effect with hormonal treatments. It seems like such a simple direction to go in, but instead research funding keeps getting sucked into shit like Mindfulness and Yoga for Pain With Interstitial Cystitis and Peppermint Oil for the Treatment of Interstitial Cystitis /​ Bladder Pain Syndrome.
The endo drug that I am on causes osteoporosis, so I can only be on it for two years and I have just reached that mark. The replacement medication, containing progesterone, flared me and I cannot take it. Without medication I will return to daily severe pain that is incompatible with life. The OBGYN (but honestly its more of the insurance company using this as an excuse to not cover the drug) is more concerned about osteoporosis that will happen 10-20 years down the line rather than severe pain that will immediately end my life as I know it and not make getting to the next 10-20 years worth it.
This post is a cry for help for awareness of this disease and other chronic pelvic pain conditions in women that get no funding, no research, and no help. This is going to kill me.
​

“This book is on voyages to the North, where Lord Debling intends to travel.”
“Miss Featherington, are you reading about the fabled Northwest Passage?”
(S3 E4 11:16)
Hi everyone! I posted a comment about it right after season 3 dropped, and I have seen a bit of interest in the Northwest Passage on here recently. I thought that for those of you who didn’t learn about it extensively in school in the small corner of Canada that I did, I’d put together a little informative post on the extremely brief (and perhaps even inconsequential!) reference to the Northwest Passage in Episode 4. I’ll provide an overview of the Passage and its history, touch on some characteristics of travel to this region, and conclude with some completely speculative comments on the literary purpose of evoking the passage in this scene in Season 4.
A quick note on the colonial nature of this post: Throughout this short post, I refer to several colonial expeditions to the land many of us call Canada. Although I attempt to be cognizant of my language, it is important to note that the Inuit people who live in the arctic regions that I reference have navigated the sea ice for thousands of years (Panikkar et al., 2018) and that the written history of this region are often hegemonic and euro-centric narratives that were formed within colonial frameworks.
More information on the Inuit and their culture, language, and traditions can be found here: https://www.itk.ca/about-canadian-inuit/
References are at the end. If you like this post, you might also like the speculative post I made about the influences of the Eros/Psyche quote in the Polin sub which is also endless academic yapping.
Exploring the Northwest Passage- a bit of context
In August of 1820, Lieutenant Edward Parry, a member of the British Royal Navy observed the dense ice and snow of arctic land and sea that was thought to be the location of the mysterious Northwest Passage. From a simple look, he knew that no ship in existence would be able to pass through ice sheets of such a great thickness and that extended for such a long distance (Brandt, 2011). Despite his pessimism, by Parry’s time, British sailors and explorers had been explicitly seeking the passage for hundreds of years (Williams & Costley, 2010; Day, 2006, p. xxiv), dreaming of exploiting the desirable economic prospect of a Western route from Europe to burgeoning Asian markets.
First encounters: When European sailors first encountered North America, it was in pursuit of a route west to Asia. They were, of course, incorrect about the location of Asia. And although a great deal of interest shifted to mapping the new continent, there was also an acknowledgement that there would be great economic benefits to finding a way around this newly encountered landmass (Day, 2006). Over time, the reasons and methods of locating the Northwest Passage changed and evolved, but interest never truly went away.
Renewed British interest: Notably, at the end of the 15^th century, when the Ottoman Turk’s empire extended into the Mediterranean and eastward, European merchants were no longer allowed to move and trade freely (Day, 2006). Seeking new routes for the Pacific, European (and especially British) explorers turned West. The Northwest Passage was a concept, a theoretical possibility, for European explorers. It was seen as a potential commercial sea route to the trading markets that were already established and burgeoning in Asia. The Passage was a route with phenomenal economic potential, especially as European consumers sought spices, materials, salts, and woods from foreign markets (Williams & Costley, 2010).
Based on their knowledge of the Southern Hemisphere and the potential geography of the world, many believed that a similar passage would be reflected in the earth’s northern pole (Day, 2006). As a result, there was a massive potential for financial gain for colonial governments and individuals, should such a passage ever be found.
Public fascination: The passage became a point of national fascination for many members of the public. In pursuit of this fascination, many enthusiastic researchers “persuaded persons of influence and wealth to send out discovery expeditions” (Williams & Costley, 2010, p. xv). With governments in Europe stabilizing, the emergence of an economy of cheap labour (lower class men who were willing to take on the dangerous work at sea), and the rapid development of ship technology, the 1600s was a prime time to set out on expeditions.
The fascination with the Passage continued for 300 years until a passage was finally navigated by sea in full in the 1900s. Over the course of history, Anthony Brandt describes the fascination with the Passage’s discovery as a tragedy (2011). He writes: “hubris, an all-too-human arrogance and pride that triggered a particular calamity” (p. 5) as being the tragedy of the exploration for the Passage. Despite the fascination of the public with it, the ice “remained intractable, impenetrable, and, for those who challenged it, a kind of fate” (p. 5) George Malcom Thomson reported that the Passage did not exist where popular imagination speculated it must be (Day, 2006). He noted: “the whole enterprise was founded on a misapprehension, a geographical fiction, a fairy-tale … and downright inventions that scholar manufacture to amaze themselves” (p. xxv).
The danger of the passage: Voyages to and in search of the passage were fraught. Many never returned, and those who did survive faced immense physical and mental challenges. There were, of course, significant difficulties with massive ice drifts and shelves. However, the relative location of the expeditions to the north pole led to issues with magnetic variation for compasses. Fog further complicated travel (Williams & Costley, 2010).
There were also extreme mental dangers to pursuing the NWP. MooSmith’s expedition in the mid-1700s reported “potentially murderous quarrels between officers” (Williams & Costley, 2010, p. xvi); John Franklin noted that the things that occurred on his ship “must not be known” (p. xvi); and it was noted that on the McClure, Beckler, and Collinson expeditions, “tensions” erupted “as captains and subordinate officers exchanged threats of court martial, and some officers spend years under close arrest on their ships” (p. xvi).
In the time of Bridgerton: The end of the Napoleonic Wars in 1815 allowed for greater expeditions by the British Royal Navy (Day, 2006). This would have included surveys of a large portion of the global north and the Arctic. There were a large number of “successful” (depending on how you define it) land expeditions that had made progress in producing surveys and maps of the region. Despite significant ongoing interest in discovering the Passage, in particular, little progress had been made. Later still, despite more advanced mapping by the Hudson Bay Company and expeditions by many notable sailors, there was still no route by the 1820s (Day, 2006).
What does it signify? If a character in Bridgerton was voyaging to the Arctic, it could take them less than a year to reach areas of the Hudson Bay that would be suitable for a scientific voyage. That in itself is not overly dangerous. However, the reference to the Northwest Passage is an interesting literary point. Of all of the places to voyage in the Arctic, even at the time, it would have been an immensely dangerous trip to set out on. The persistent lack of success for a solid 30 years after this season takes place may reference the fact that this is a voyage that Debling is unlikely to ever return from.
It doesn’t help that Debling’s odds are really stacked against him. He does not eat meat, one of the only renewable sources of food for arctic expeditions. There is little to no fresh naturally occurring produce (during the Coppermine expedition, the surviving crew members famously ate lichen to survive once they lost the favour of local indigenous groups and fur traders) and did not do well.
Certainly, it lends a very tragic potential element to the story. The Arctic, if mentioned alone, is not necessarily an overly dangerous location to travel to. Yes, marine travel in the 1800s was still a dangerous endeavour in its own right, let alone in an area as unnavigable by sea as the Arctic. However, the North, in many regions, had active whaling expeditions, Indigenous populations that were willing to trade and work with sailors, and (in some areas) active fur trades. If the purpose of Debling’s travel was only to highlight his unique interests and sense of purpose, the show had many methods of doing so. The choice to reference a notorious and dangerous Northwest Passage, there is an extremely interesting element of danger that is introduced.
What would this potential marriage mean for Penelope? Of course, Penelope’s name may be a reference to the wife of Odysseus, who unwillingly takes ten years to return home after the Trojan war. In contrast to Colin, who returns with a steadfast conviction, Debling, as a traveler, may represent a kind of eternal limbo for Penelope, should she marry him. Although Debling’s trip is set to take 3 years, it would be hard to prove his death. Likely, she would be a widow for years, if not her entire life, before they were able to locate his ship. The HMS Terror was famously lost in 1845 and not located until 2016(!). As a result, Penelope would likely be stuck at home, awaiting his return, in the same tragic fashion of her namesake in Greek mythology.
As such, not only is there a potential tragic reference to Debling’s future, but there is also a dark illusion to what Penelope’s life may look like as his wife. Of course, this is all based entirely on implication, but it is an interesting act of speculative foreshadowing.
Thanks for reading!
References
Brandt, A. (2011). The man who ate his boots: the tragic history of the search for the northwest passage. Anchor.
Day, A. (2006). Historical dictionary of the discovery and exploration of the Northwest Passage (Vol. 3). Scarecrow Press.
Panikkar, B., Lemmond, B., Else, B., & Murray, M. (2018). Ice over troubled waters: Navigating the Northwest Passage using Inuit knowledge and scientific information. Climate Research, 75(1), 81-94.
Williams, G., & Costley, S. (2010). Arctic labyrinth: The quest for the Northwest Passage. University of California Press.

Today we slept in he made it to the kitchen before I did. For once (I’m not exaggerating) he began to make himself breakfast. But Just for him. He let our son eat ice cream & gave our daughter a ridiculous amount of powder sugar in her on her pancakes. He acts like he doesn’t know how to do things. Made a mess with the oil, pretended like he was going to make coffee when he does this he makes it however then says well I don’t know how to do that. He can read btw. Well after all that, I made the coffee poured myself a cup and left the rest on so that he could have some after he ate. It’s been a few hrs and I said you forgot to drink your coffee again that’s the 4th time this week I’ve had to throw it out after sitting. He gets up in a hurry and rushed with excitement to get it and says where??! I said it’s in the pot I let it stay warm for you to which he said.. “well if it isn’t in a coffee mug ready for me to drink I don’t want it!” Proceeds to sit back down and play video games. He hasn’t worked in over a week and this is all he’s been doing. Maybe he’s trying to say he prefers it when I make it? Either way I found his reaction rude.

I've been skating on quads for a year-ish, and while I can balance and move around, I just can't get to the point where I feel safe on my skates. I broke my collarbone recently in an unrelated injury and it was a long & difficult recovery process, so maybe the fear of getting a similar injury due to skates is holding me back. It doesn't help that at the start of learning how to skate (aka back when I was actually making progress) I fell backwards and got a concussion. I've tried EVERYTHING. I bought all safety equipment, helmet, even a butt-pad to practice falling correctly, but for some reason I can't get past the point of looking like an anxious penguin on wheels.
Many people tell me that inline skates are more beginner-friendly, and might even be ideal with my situation since there's less of a "I'm gonna slip back & hit my head" feel on them than quads. Sadly, the rink near me only has quads, so if I'm gonna try inlines I'm gonna have to purchase them. Now, I've already purchased my own quads, and tbh even if/after I learn to skate on inlines, I want to eventually keep trying to learn quads. Therefore if I'm gonna invest in inlines, I'd want to purchase something like the Jackson Vista Inlines so that I don't lose the muscle memory of having a toe-stop.
I guess what I'm trying to ask... is this smart? When people say that inlines are more beginner-friendly, are they only referring to the 4-wheel inlines since they have a longer wheelbase and they feel safer? If so, then will I only be wasting money by buying the Jackson Inline Vistas since they might be just as challenging as quads? Do artistic inlines have a similar feel to quads? I don't mind completely starting over from scratch, I just want to get to a point where I can get over the fear of skating in general, so that if/when I try quads again, I at least have SOME confidence in SOME type of skating.
Or maybe I learn to skate on artistic skates and just stick with those and never go back to quads again, that's okay too! But I would like to know if artistic skates are easier to learn than quads in the first place since they're inline, or if they'll be just as challenging to me for being a short wheelbase.
I know the biggest advice is "JUST PRACTICE" yes but I've been practicing FOREVERRR. This would usually be a point where I tell myself "maybe this hobby just isn't for me" but I love skating so much & I want to push-through. I just don't know what to do. Help :(
PS. It might be important to add that I've never ice skated and have NO idea how to ice skate lol, since I know artistic inlines are often designed to mimic skating on ice.
TLDR: Been struggling on quads for a while and want to know if it's a good idea to try artistic inlines since people say inline blades are easier for beginners, or if I'll struggle just as much since artistic inlines have a short wheelbase and might be just as challenging as quads.

11/20/2017
Log book of Det. Ryan Snow
Case #2798: The Appalachian Murders
The past couple of days are events I pray no one else ever has to go through what Kate and I had. I had her and Mr. Raines cleared of all charges, having found the proof we all needed to end this case and find the true killer. Kate no longer has to go into witness protection and I had given the police a good enough lie to keep myself from looking insane in the eyes of my co-workers. I know no one will ever know the true story or believe it, but I’m writing it out here. It at least needs to be known written somewhere. Even if my and Kate’s eyes are the only ones that will ever read it written out and forever imprinted in our memories.
The morning Kate had run off to the mountains on her own, I had made my way to the Blackwell home where I was immediately met with Mr. Blackwell charging at me and wrapping his large hands around my neck. He was shaking me and blaming me for getting his daughter killed and not doing more to keep her safe. The police who had been called to examine the scene and read Kate’s letter had to sedate Mr. Blackwell to get him off of me, lying him down on the couch, his head resting on Mrs. Blackwell’s legs. Though the woman was distraught and begging the police to bring her daughter back, she still took the time to shoot that cold, death glare my way. The ice in my chest growing. I couldn’t tell these people that this thing had come after me to get to Kate. I knew it wouldn’t change anything. If anything they’d hate me even more for keeping it to myself.
The sheriff was there and he pulled me away from eye sight of the Blackwells, trying to tell me that this wasn’t my fault. But I couldn’t help but blame myself. I should have done everything I could to keep Kate as far from those mountains as possible.
There were no signs of a struggle in Kate’s room and the letter was definitely written in her hand writing. Her father’s rifle missing from the study, a backpack and some food and supplies gone as well. She had only grabbed one set of clothes from her drawers, showing she did indeed have plans on returning after only one night in the mountains to confront whoever or whatever the killer was.
I told the sheriff to keep any police from going up to the mountains without first allowing me to go up there first to find Kate. He of course argued, telling me that he couldn’t break protocol based on any hunches I may have had. However, I told him that I could get Kate back without her putting up much of a fight, whereas she may struggle with a group of cops who didn’t understand the situation she was in. I was close enough to this case to have built a trust with her after all. I was mentioned in her letter about ending this case for me.
It took a good hour to get the sheriff to eye the Blackwells, Mr. Blackwell beginning to stir from his sleep, and allow me to go to the mountains to find Kate. He didn’t bother to call off the search to the police that had already begun making their way to the mountains, but did radio to tell them to not try getting Kate home without first allowing me to speak to her. He then gave me twenty-four hours to find her to which I told him I’d only need at most ten.
Without telling him about the disturbing scratches on my car, I sped to the mountains, taking the same path Kate had that day she took her friends on their trip. The route, as the sun began to rise was scenic. A drive that may have been a sign of a bright future ahead with a beautiful week in the mountains of nothing but nature, was now a reddening sky of horror. I couldn’t understand how Kate felt, going down the same roads that led to her only friends’ fates to avenge them, but the feeling of guilt did weigh heavy on my chest as I saw the signs of the Appalachian Mountain trails grow bigger on the horizon. Guilt for not doing more to prove Kate was innocent, for allowing Mrs. Mayfield for getting killed right before my very eyes, and for Liam for not being lucky enough to save him.
When I finally arrived to the cabin, there didn’t seem to be any change since the first day I was called to the crime scene, the only thing out of place being Mr. Blackwell’s truck parked precariously near the cabin. The police tape was still up, the cars of Kate and Mr. Woolfe still left where they were, the tires still slashed, the door wide open from when Kate, Ms. Greymoore, and Mr. Woolfe ran out of the cabin upon Mr. Billings was killed by an unknown force. All the bodies had been found and were now being prepared by their families to be buried or cremated. Only one body of the five still roaming around to avenge each and every one of their deaths.
I called out for Kate as I made my way into the cabin. The Ouija board was still on the coffee table, the white line of where Mr. Billings had been found lying face first on the floor with his head bashed open remained on the spot. The planchette was still missing. I kept calling out for Kate as I made my way up to the attic, the door left unlocked, using my flashlight to shine down on the white outline where Mr. Steele had been found completely torn apart. To think Kate had done such a thing, I now realize made me look like a complete dumb ass for believing it.
When I couldn’t find Kate in the cabin, I made my way out the cabin, still calling for her. I called out to her, promising that she just needed to come back home with me and we could solve the murders together. I knew it was a lie and that the sheriff would immediately have her take away to some secluded place where the killer couldn’t find her, but it was all I could think of to try luring her out to meet me. Still, she never appeared.
The sun was soon beginning to set as I tried retracing the very steps Kate and Ms. Greymoore had taken to outrun the killer. I had passed the small shrine of flowers and the pictures of Mr. Woolfe where the boy had been found, his face permanently remaining nineteen forever in the photos of him with Kate and their friends. I kept going, trying my best to follow the same path to the cliff where Ms. Greymoore was found, calling for Kate along the way.
It wasn’t until I found the place Kate had buried her best friend that I found Kate. She was on her knees before the rock where she left her bloody handprint, sniffing as her head was lowered, her dad’s rifle in her hands.
“Ms. Blackwell-“ I began as I took a step toward her. I was immediately cut off as Kate jumped to her feet, raising her father’s rifle at my head. I jolted back, raising my hands up to show her I meant no harm to her. “Ms. Blackwell, it’s me, Det. Snow!”
“Detective…?” She gasped, slightly lowering the rifle, but keeping it on me. “P-Prove it!”
“I’m sorry?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I… I thought I saw Sonja…” Kate breathed between tears, the rifle shaking in her hands, “it… It was wearing her face… It had her voice… How… H-How do I know you’re really Det. Snow?”
“You… Saw Sonja?” I asked as gently as I could with a terrified woman pointing a gun my way. “She spoke to you?”
“Prove you’re Det. Snow!” Kate demanded as she stilled her arms, readying the rifle as she pointed straight between my eyes.
“Alright! Alright!” I kept my hands up, backing up slightly as I tried thinking of how I could prove to her I was really me. “I… I, ah… I have… Had a brother… We went to get ice cream together once and… I dropped a dime and went to grab it… I was five… I followed it out to the road and despite how trafficked it was, I didn’t get hit. I grabbed the dime just as a truck was speeding my way and it swerved just before hitting me… Seeing how close I was to death, I dropped the dime and it rolled into the sewer. My brother called me Lucky Dime since then… Saying the dime was lost to me because it did its job in protecting me… I haven’t seen my brother since I was seven and I haven’t spoken to my parents in…” I looked at my watch. “Five years… No one else calls me Lucky Dime… Not even the people at the station know that was my nickname.”
With this, Kate lowered the rifle, her eyes softening from her furious fear to a more melancholy terror. She looked to Ms. Greymoore’s grave marker, her hand print just barely visible In the approaching darkness.
“It… It looked just… Like her…” She sniffed, “it had her voice… Why did it have her voice… Why did it look like her…?”
“Ms. Blackwell,” I soothed, relaxing now that there was no weapon in my face, “we need to head back, your parents are worried about you and the police are looking for-“
“I can’t go back yet!” She snapped at me as she spun to look at me, tears in her eyes. “That thing is still out there and will kill again unless I end it!” She held up her dad’s rifle as if to show me how she meant to “end it.” “I’m not leaving until I end that… Thing that had the balls to wear Sonja’s face and have her voice!”
“Ms. Blackwell, we will catch the killer, I promise, but right now, we need to get you home before your dad ends up killing a police officer for keeping him from looking for you.”
“I told him in my letter I’d be back tomorrow! I’m twenty-years-old, he can’t force me back home if I don’t want to! I just want to stop this thing before it-“
A howling in the distance cut Kate off. Coyote from what I could hear. If I couldn’t get Kate home, I’d have to get her somewhere safe. I turned to begin talking her down and taking her to one of the other two cabins for shelter. However, when I looked back at her, her face had turned to a bone chilling terror I’d never seen on a person before. She looked like hunted prey that had been found by its predator. She gripped her dad’s rifle to her chest tightly, her hand reaching for the trigger.
“Ms. Blackwell, it’s just a pack of coyote,” I tried telling her calmly, “let’s get to one of the other cabins and-“
“No, no, no,” She stopped me as she stepped back, looking around for where the howling was coming from, “I… Heard that same howling just before I saw Sonja! I thought it was far away, but she… She was right in front of me… She… Something was off, but it looked just like her!”
“Ms. Blackwell, you didn’t see Sonja,” I assured her, “I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t-“
“Lucky… Dime…”
I froze. My blood turned to ice. The fear on Kate’s face grew as she began backing away, her back hitting the grave marker. I spun around to see a figure in the darkness limp toward us, a scratched and garbled familiar voice coming from it.
“Lucky… Dime…” It wheezed, “You brought her… Back… Give her… To me…”
I whipped out my gun, pointing it at this thing that had his voice. I stepped back to stand directly between this thing and Kate.
“Stay back!” I demanded. “Don’t come any closer!”
“Lucky… Di-“
“Shut up! Stop calling me that! Who are you? Not another step or I’ll shoot!”
The thing stopped limping toward us, its body shuddering in place as it stared us down. I took the safety off of my Glock, ready to blow this thing’s head off if it got any closer or even dared using that voice on me again.
“Kate…” It turned its attention to Kate, a completely different voice coming from it, another male’s voice. “Kate… I’m cold…”
“J-Jasper…” Kate began to sob, “Please, stop using their voices… Please stop!”
“Kate… Kate why did… Did you leave me…?” Another male voice asked. “I… I was in so much… Pain…”
“Shut up!” Kate cried out.
“I thought we… Were friends… Kate…” A female voice. “You said you… Loved me… Why won’t… You let me have… Your warmth…?”
“I said shut up!” Kate screamed as she pointed her rifle and shooting at the creature. She had missed, but the thing still let out an ear piercing shriek as it dodged out of the way of the bullets Kate was shooting. It ran off into the darkness, but Kate kept pulling the trigger of her rifle.
“Stop!” I shouted as I snatched the barrel of her rifle, shoving it to the ground before us. “It’s gone, you scared it off, get to the cabins, I’m right here with you!”
I began shoving Kate back toward where the cabins were, the sounds of that thing screaming out in a symphony of different voices ringing out throughout the woods. I shoved Kate into the first cabin we had arrived to, Cabin #1 I could only assume as I slammed the door shut behind us. It smelled God awful, like the smell of the corpse I found on my first murder case, and it was getting darker as the sun began to sink behind the trees outside.
“Detective, it smell terrible in here!” Kate cried out, covering her mouth and nose, but the tears still falling from her eyes were still visible as they rolled down her cheeks.
I pulled her close and kept her behind me as I took my gun and flashlight out. “Stay close to me,” I ordered, leading the way through the cabin, “do not run off or use that rifle without may say so, understood?”
Kate didn’t answer, but I could feel the heat from her body following after me as I made my toward the smell. It was getting worse as we inched closer to a closet door in a hallway that connected the living room to the kitchen. The door was locked, but after a couple of kicks I was able to get the door to swing open, the smell blasting us in our faces making us gag and nearly throw up on the floor. I fumbled around the sides inside the room to find a light switch that I was able to find to the side of the entryway. A yellow light flickered on, revealing the door led to a staircase. I led the way down the creaking steps, Kate close by as she kept her mouth covered with her shirt.
Once we had made our way to the bottom, Kate dropped her dad’s rifle and let out a scream as we stared at what was waiting for us at the bottom of the steps. In a large pile at the corner of this basement room were nothing but skin and bones of humans and animals covered in maggots and flies. Some of the human bodies being small and child-like in size. The missing people who were never found after vanishing when they came to Cabin #2.
I grabbed Kate’s rifle off the floor and began pushing her back up the stairs, her screaming and sobbing all the way back up to the cabin. I slammed the door shut behind us and pushed Kate to the front door.
“We need to leave,” I had told her, trying to calm her down as we made it outside, “we need to get you home and away from here as soon as possible.”
“N-No… No!” She began fighting me, trying to escape my grasp on her. “No! That… That thing is still out there! You saw it! You can’t say you don’t believe me now! It even called you Lucky Dime! It said you brought me back!”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you!” I shot back. “I do, I saw exactly what you saw, but it’s way too dangerous for you to be out here while you’re the one it’s after!”
“I escaped it once, I can do it again!” Kate pointed out as she struggled against me while I tried getting her into my car. “I’m not running away this time, I want to kill it!”
“God damn it, Blackwell, we’ll let the police handle it! Just because you have a weapon doesn’t make you safe or ready to handle something like… Like that… That thing!”
“It killed my friends! It wants me! I’m going straight to it so I can blow its head off! It’ll come right for me!”
“I came here to bring you back home, not let you accomplish some stupid ass revenge plot! Get in the fucking car, unless you want to end up like those bodies down that-“
“D… De… Detect… Detective…”
A scratched and moaning voice cut me off. Kate and I both froze at the sound of something approaching. I turned to see a police officer stagger toward us from the tree line. I could barely tell who he was or who he used to be, his head held low and blue uniform covered in blood.
“H… Hel… Hel… Help… Help me…" It croaked as it stumbled closer.
I held up Kate's rifle. "Stay back!" I barked. "Not another step!"
The thing that stood before us wearing the cop like a full-bodied suit stopped in place. It swayed where it stood, blood water falling from its head and down to its chest.
"It… It… It's inside… Inside me…" It breathed painfully. "I… I can't… Help… Me…" Its voice then changed to that familiar voice that made my skin crawl. "Lucky… Dime… I… I'm so… Hungry… Give her… To… Me…"
I pulled the trigger of the rifle, hitting the creature in the head, the rest of it staggering backward from the blow. Still though, it remained on its feet, turning itself to look toward us once again.
"Give… Her… To… Me…" It wheeze, blood and brain pouring from where I had shot it, it beginning to stumble toward us once again. I continued shooting, hitting it in the shoulder, the arm, the leg, the head again, but it just kept coming toward us faster, demanding I give Kate to it.
I was about ready to ram it with the rifle, having run out of bullets, when a voice off in the distance made the creature freeze just an inch before us.
"I'm here! I'm here!" It called out in an almost sing-songy way, using the voice of a little girl. "I'm here! I'm here!"
"I'm… Here…" The creature repeated as it jerked its body to look to where the voice was coming from. "I'm here… I'm here… I'm here! I'm here! I'm here!" It began shrieking in a high pitch wail. It sounded like a mixture of different voices ranging from child, to woman, to man. Keeping flat on its feet, its upper body fell forward onto its hands before speedily crawling off like a spider.
We stood in shaking silence for a moment, Kate digging her fingers into my arm while I was too numb from shock to care about the pain she was unknowingly inflicting. It wasn’t until the radio from my car buzzed to life that jolted us back to whatever reality was at this point. I scrambled to the driver’s side, swinging the door open as I fell inside to grab the intercom to respond to the voice yelling for me over the receiver.
“Det. Snow, what the hell is going on up there?” The sheriff’s scratched voice called out over the receiver when I could barely get my name out of my mouth.
“Sh-Sh-Sheriff…?” Was all I could respond with, still trying to wrap my head around what I had just seen.
“Y-Y-Yeah,” he responded in mock shudder, “what the hell is going on up there? I’ve tried radioing every man I’ve got up there and am constantly being left on red! Do I need to send back-up?”
“No!” Immediately, I returned to full reality, finally understanding the severity of the moment and putting that knowledge into my tone. “Landon, do not send any more men up here, call everyone back immediately! I don’t know what this thing is, but it’s too dangerous! Call everyone back, we’re heading back to the Blackwell house now!”
“We?” The sheriff questioned, skepticism in his voice.
“I found Ms. Blackwell, she’s here with me.”
I was met with statice before the voice of Mr. Blackwell blasted over the intercom.
“Bring my daughter home, right now, you son of a bitch!” Mr. Blackwell demanded. “You bring her home this instant before I decide to kick your teeth in!”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the radio was snatched from my hand from Kate. “I’m not coming home until I kill this thing!” She snapped into the radio. “I don’t know what it is, but I at least know I’m not crazy and that it needs to die before it kills anyone else!”
I grabbed the radio from Kate’s hand, beginning to tell her off when a agonized scream erupted from the intercom. I dropped the radio to cover my ears as Kate did, the scream piercing from my car to throughout the forest around us. The voice screaming and crying for help sounded male and it seemed to echo all around us.
“GIVE HER TO ME, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” A mix of the screaming voice and Mr. Blackwell’s hissed out after a good five minutes of screaming before the radio short-circuited and puffs of smoke flowed out.
After allowing my ears to adjust to the sudden silence, I grabbed the radio once again and tried calling for the sheriff, for the cops with us in the mountains, for anyone. When I was met with more silence, I slammed the radio back down on the holder and cursed loudly, hitting the wheel as if it were the source of all my problems.
After a moment to take some deep breaths, I told Kate to get in the car as I placed her rifle in the back seat.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she shot back. “I’m not-“
“Damn it, Blackwell, we have no idea what we’re dealing with, it can mimic peoples’ voices, and it just ran off like a fucking black widow!” I snapped, stepping out of the driver’s seat to glare down at her. “The last thing I’m doing to leaving you here alone and I’m not staying here another second until I can wrap my head around what the fuck I just saw! So, you either get yourself killed out here while I try talking you down this hero complex high, or you’re going to do what I say and get in the damn car!”
We stood in heated silence, glaring each other down before Kate huffed and stormed over to the passenger side of my car and slamming the door shut as she climbed in. I jumped in after her and began driving away from this nutty nightmare I had found myself in.
We drove down the trail back to civilization in silence, Kate staring out the window and trying to keep her tearful sniffs quiet. I had finally begun calming down and was starting to feel bad for snapping at her. She had only gone there to avenge her friends by killing that thing that had most likely killed a whole bunch of cops to find her. However, I still couldn’t just let her stay to hunt it and I didn’t want to stay out in those mountains with some kind of creature that could take the form and voice of someone I knew. I still couldn’t understand what is was I had even seen.
“Wendigo,” Kate whispered, breaking the silence in the car first. She had said it as if she had just remembered something important.
“What?”
“A Wendigo,” She repeated, turning to look to me with wide scared eyes, “that’s what that thing is! It’s a Wendigo!”
“Slow down, what’s a Wendigo?”
“It’s… Oh, just forget it! You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
“Ms. Blackwell, I just saw a cop being used as a puppet and then run off at inhuman speed on all fours; I doubt I’m not going to believe a single word that comes out of your mouth now. What’s a Wendigo?”
Kate eyed me for a moment before releasing some of the tension from her face as she took a deep breath and began explaining to me. “They’re a Native American myth; it’s believed they’re the spirits of people who would lose themselves in the woods and would end up eating other people to satiate their hunger. I think that’s what that thing is. They can mimic the voices of people who died and use it to lure people to them, they can take the form of that person too.”
“Why does it want female hearts?” I asked, not realizing I had yet told her what my mysterious caller kept asking for when they called me.
“It… It wants my heart?” she asked shakily.
I cursed to myself before letting out a frustrated sigh. “I think this thing wants hearts, but it only wants female hearts. Why? I don’t know yet. But the only other person to be found after killing someone in those cabins was found with his partner’s heart missing to which he was blamed for taking out of her. Recently, I’ve been getting calls from some… Thing wanting me to bring you back here so it could take something from you. It would have taken Ms. Greymoore’s, but you hid her well enough that only the police could find her in time. Now, I’ve been getting calls asking for you and to get something from you.”
Kate looked to me in shock before a wave of guilt twisted her face in pain. “I… I’m so, so… So sorry, Detective!” She cried out. “I… I had… I had no idea you were being… Harassed by it! Had I known it wanted me back and was demanding you brought me here, I never… I didn’t… That’s why it said you brought me back! Oh, I’m such an idiot!” She pressed her hands to her face, grabbing at her hair between her fingers and tightening them around her eyes.
“No, no, no, stop, stop that!” I ordered, screeching the car to a halt, having to bring it to a crooked stop so I could stop her from hurting herself. I snatched her arms from her head and pinned them to her lap, tears flooding her face. “It’s my fault for not telling you sooner! I was too focused on trying to solve this case with the most efficient evidence I could, but that just kept me looking to you as a suspect. I should have stopped thinking you were the killer the moment I got that first call. There’s no way any of us could have seen… This coming… Except people who probably already believe in that kind of stuff or don’t stop to assume a more rational explanation like a cult… I’m… I’m sorry. But, I won’t let it take anything from you, not anymore. I’m going to get you home and then I’ll deal with this with the rest of the police department. You don’t have to deal with this thing anymore, it’ll be my burden from now on. You need time to finally get some rest and mourn your friends with your and their families. It’s already fucked your life up enough, I won’t let it go on making it worse.”
I stopped her before she could argue with me with a wave of my hand. “Your friends’ deaths shouldn’t be your burden to handle. I know you want to be the one who kills that thing and do right by them, but that’s not what they would want. They’d want you to remember them and continue living. They know you didn’t do it, so stop blaming yourself and stop acting like you’re the one who has to make it up to them. I will put an end to this die trying, but you need to go home and be with people who are happy you still get to live.”
Kate looked down at her hands that I kept down on her lap before nodding weakly and letting out a broken “okay.”
“Good, now let’s get you home before-“
My words were cut off when the honk of a car barreling toward us echoed through the woods. The headlights were fast approaching and I barely had time to grab the gear shift to put us back in drive as the other vehicle hit us, forcing us back and forth in one violent motion. It took me a moment to check myself to be sure I hadn’t hit my head on anything or got whiplash from the crash before I immediately returned my full attention to Kate who was kneeling over holding her head. I gently grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up to examine her head. It didn’t appear to have been busted and bleeding, but she was holding the front side of her forehead.
“Are you okay?” I asked her, prying her hand away from the spot on her forehead, seeing that it was beginning to bruise. “Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can understand me!”
“I… I’m f-fine…” she mumbled as she looked to her hand to check if there was blood on her palm, “I… I think I just… Hit… Hit the w-window…” She then blinked twice in my direction before looking to the car that had rammed us.
I turned my attention as well to the car to see it was a police van, it’s front crushed into the left of my front. I quickly jumped out my vehicle and stormed to the van, yelling at who ever was driving the van to come out and explain what the hell they were doing.
The driver’s side of the van swung open once I was near enough and a man in an orange jumpsuit climbed out, staring familiar daggers at me. The moment realization set in, my mixed emotions of confusion, frustration, and fear turned to fury.
It was Leighton Raines.
“Jesus, you really are a shitty detective.” Was all he said to me before reaching into the can and retrieving a rifle out from the passenger seat.
[END OF PART 1]
Part 6

Today is our 12th wedding anniversary. I should preface that the past 2 years have been rough. My husband has depression and has a history of taking things out on me. However, things have been great the past 3 months. Felt back to normal. Fast forward to today…
He woke up frowning. He was withdrawn and sitting by himself outside. I asked him why - he ignored me. Our family hopped in the car and he looked miserable. I tried to playfully ask what was going on and he responded “the anniversary of being married to you makes me depressed.”
I got quiet. He acted like nothing happened. Kids were in the car so I didn’t push it. We went to lunch and continued acting cold towards me. He told our kids “I’m so lucky I have you two.” Ignored me. I asked again what was going on, what changed in the last day that he’s acting this way. He said that I was being annoying. I excused myself to the restroom and cried. One, because my feelings are hurt and two, I’m so unsettled that he’s going back into a depressive state.
When I returned, I was quiet. He called me an ice princess under his breath. I explained I didn’t want to fake happy and that his words hurt my feelings. He said something about not playing my narcissistic games and continued to have a meal like nothing happened.
So much for a happy anniversary. Friends and family are sending well wishes and it’s like pouring salt in the wound. How do I respond to this? There has been a cycle of him saying hurtful things and I think I’ve moved past it until he says things like this. I don’t know how to act. There’s only so much I can take.