Source: islamquest.net

Concise answer:

The occultation of the Imam of Time (atf) does not mean that the Imam is living a paranormal or different life. For example, he is not living in a cave and the likes of such places. In fact, according to some traditions the Imam is living among the people in a way such that he is not recognized. The only difference between the Imam and the ordinary people is in the longevity of the former's life which is with the will and power of God, the Exalted. There are reasons behind occultation of the Imam (atf) some of which have been explained and some have remained unknown and unheard of. Also, there are certain conditions and requirements for the Imam's reappearance which have not yet been met. One of those conditions is that the Imam (atf) is in need of 313 special friends or companions in addition to the ordinary followers. Finally, considering the narrations and that the present Iranian government enjoys jurisprudential and narrative legitimacy, the present government can be considered as favorable and conducive to the global government of the Imam of Time, may Allah hasten his reappearance.

Detailed Answer:

To clarify the answer, we must make mention of the following points:

1. What the Shiites believe concerning the Imam of Time (atf), and which the Holy Prophet (pbuh) and also the infallible Imams (a.s.)[1] have pointed out is all the Imam's occultation, not hiding in a cave or a cellar. Some say only out of mockery that Shiites believe that the Promised Mahdi (pbuh) hid, after his birth in a cellar (the underground of Imam Hasan's house in Samarra) wherefrom he started his occultation and he is living in that cellar. However, if we examine the reported traditions in this regard, we will come to know that such allegations are baseless and unwarranted.[2]

The concept of the occultation of the Imam of Time (atf) can never be in the sense that the Imam shall be invisible and illusory during the period of occultation. In fact, he lives an objective and natural life but his life is long and he lives amongst the people in the society. If there is an exception in his life, it is because he has a lived long life.[3]
It has been said in our ahadith that the Imam of Time (a.s.) is living among the people in a way such that he is not recognized. He attends public gatherings and the hajj ceremony and he also helps people solve some of their problems.[4]

1. The reasons behind the occultation of the Imam of Time (atf): There are reason for the Imam's occultation some of which have not been made clear for us and some others remain unknown and hidden to us. Some of the reasons for the occultation of the Imam of Time can the following: 1. Test and examination of God's servants;[5] 2. Avoidance from giving allegiance to the tyrants;[6] 3. Protecting the faithful children of the unbelievers. It has been narrated from Imam Sadiq (a.s.) that he said that God has placed in the unbelievers' loin[7] the sperm of faithful individuals. It is for the same reason that Imam Ali (a.s.) refrained from killing the disbelieving fathers so that faithful children might be born to them. Thereafter, if he got a hand on them, he would kill them. Also, the Rising of our Ahlul-Bayt will not reappear until the divine deposit comes out of the loins of the unbelievers and then he will reappear and kill the unbelievers.[8]

As was said earlier, the entire reasons behind of the occultation of the Imam are not known to us. It has also been said that the infallible Imams are well aware of the reason behind the occultation but they have not been commanded to reveal it. For this reason, they have mentioned the wisdom and reasons behind the Imam's occultation in a general way. Shaykh Saduq in his book 'Elalush - Sharayeh' has narrated from Abdullah-ibn-Fazl Hashami as saying: I heard Sadeq Aal-e-Muhammad saying: 'For the 'Saheb-e-Amr (Master of the Affairs) there shall occur an occultation during which every men of vanity will fall into doubt and skepticism.'
I said: May I be sacrificed for you. For what reason?
He replied: For a reason which we are not at liberty to divulge.
I asked: What is the reason for Hazrat's Occultation?
He replied: The reason for Hazrat's Occultation is similar to the reason for concealment of the past Divine Proofs.
The reason behind Mahdi's occultation will not be disclosed but after his emergence just as the reason of Hazrat Khizr's actions (meaning the drilling of a hole in the boat, the killing of a lad and the repairing of the wall) was not divulged until Musa and Khizr decided to part company. O son of Fazl, this affair is a divine affair, this secret is a divine secret and this concealment is a divine concealment. We must accept that all His actions are based on Wisdom, even if the reason for them is not known to us.[9]

1. Conditions of Reappearance of the Imam of Time: In order to create a global community based on peace and harmony through implementation of justice and fairness, the Mahdi will have to correct the situation from its origins so that all kinds of conflicts that have marred human society should be resolved. Such a task, even today with the creation of a world body like the United Nations, has not been easy to achieve. Such an international movement would have to do a tremendous amount of work to prepare people in every way to respond adequately to ensure its success. The religious nature of the revolution demands that it should arise from the depths of the people's souls. Consequently, the promised Mahdi will not appear so long as human beings have not attained the level of perfection that is necessary to accept the government of truth.[10]

Hisham bin Sālim narrates that Imam Sadiq (a.s) said: “Hazrat Mahdi (atf) will not appear until all sections of the people have assumed power." Thus nobody will say "If we were in power and had formed a government we would have behaved justly. [11]

Four kinds of preparations are necessary in order for the world to accept such government:

A) Intellectual and Cultural Preparation: It means that the level of the thoughts of the people of the world develops in a way such that they understand the issue “race” and “different geographical regions” are not notable issues in human life; the difference in the colors, languages and lands cannot separate humans from each other.
B) Social preparation: The people of the world should become tired of oppression and injustice and available systems and feel the bitterness of this material and one-dimensional life, and even become disappointed of solving current problems by continuing this one-dimensional way.
C) Technological and communicational preparation: Contrary to what some persons assume that reaching the level of social perfection and a world full of peace and justice will certainly be possible by way of the destruction of modern technology, existence of these developed industries does not disturb a fair universal government and even, it may not be possible to achieve such goal without that. Miracle is a logical exception in the current system of the nature, for proving the legitimacy of a divine religion, not for governing the society forever. This act should be performed based on natural laws.[12]
D) Individual preparation: The universal government of Mahdi needs ready and human-valued individuals, before anything else, who can bear the heavy weight of such expanded corrections; and firstly, it needs the increment of intellectual, awareness and spiritual and mental readiness level for cooperation in execution of this great program. The important point is that the one who is really waiting for such an important program cannot be the spectator, and should stand in the row of real reformists.[13]
Also, the Imam needs 313 companions who bear special conditions. Imam Jawad (a.s.) has been reported to have said to Abdul Azim Hasani: “When 313 sincere people gather for him, God will reveal his matter.”[14]
It becomes clear from the above as to why the Imam of Time (a.s) did not appear despite the presence of Shiite governments like Buwaihids and Safavids’.
Additionally, we should say that according to the Shiite point of view, authority belongs to God and those who have been appointed by Him. During the time of the occultation of the Imam of Age (atf), only a qualified jurist can take the leadership of the Ummah (nation) not tyrant rulers and sultans, even though they may be Shiites. That is because such a government is the government of taghut (tyranny or devil).[15] It is for the same reason that the Shiite scholars and jurists have never endorsed these governments in a complete way. Of course, they preferred these governments over non-Shiite governments for promotion and consolidation of Shi'ism, Shiites[16] and their protection from any harms. For example, Shaykh Saduq (r.a) despite having relations with the Buwaihids and attending in their scientific gatherings did not consider cooperation with the tyrant governments as permissible.[17]
Allamah Majlisi who lived in the Safavid period enumerates three conditions for the permissibility of associating with the rulers: Firstly the intention should be to do Taqiyah (dissimulation), secondly, the aim should be to avert harm from an oppressed person or to do favor to a Momeen (Shiite Muslim) in which case it will become obligatory also. Thirdly, the association should aim at guiding the tyrant and oppressive rulers.[18] Muslim scholars did not cooperate with the tyrants to the extent that they would hold E’tekaf (Worshipping in Seclusion) in the mosque which had been built by King Abbas.[19] Having said this, it becomes clear that although these were Shiite governments, they did not deserve to be endorsed and supported by Shiite scholars. In addition, they did not have the necessary power.
What has to be said about Iranians and the present government of Iran is that according the sayings of the Infallibles, the Iranians have considerable contribution in helping the Imam of Time and in his reappearance. There are relevant narrations about the people of Qom and Taliqan and the Persian tribe in general. For example it has been narrated in Behar al-Anwar that Imam Sadiq (a.s.) recited the Quranic verse “We dispatched servants of Ours to inflict server violence upon you (all)”. The narrator says, I enquired the Imam as to who they are. The Imam then said thrice: “By Allah, they are the people of Qom.”[20]
In addition, according to narrations reported by Shiite and Sunni reporters, Imam Mahdi (atf) will reappear after a preliminary movement (which is applicable to the Islamic revolution) and there will be Persian men in his army who pave the way for his government and leadership. There is an all out agreement in the narrations that the two promised figures e.g. Sayyid Khurasani or Hashemi Khurasani and his friend Shu’aib bin Saleh are Persians (Iranians).[21]
Considering the narrations and that the present Iranian government enjoys jurisprudential and narrative legitimacy, the present government can be considered as favorable and conducive to the global government of the Imam of Time, may Allah hasten his reappearance because fear of the tyrants (which is desirable for protection of the religion not for fear of one’s life) is only one of the causes of the occultation. As we mentioned, there are also other reasons for the Imam’s occultation.

References:

[1] - See Behar al-Anwar, vol.52 and Muntakhab al-Athar from Grand Ayatollah Saafi. [2] - See "Knowing the Promised" by Ali Asghar Rizvani. [3] - Ayatollah Makarem Shirazai, The Global Government of Mahdi, pg.219. [4] - Ayatollah Amini, Al-Imam al-Mahdi, The Just Leader of Humanity, pg.215. [5] - Behar al-Anwar, vol.52, pg.113. [6] -Behar al-Anwar, vol.51, pg.152. [7] - Someone's loins are the front part of their body between their waist and thighs, specially their sexual organs; a literary use. [8] - Ethbatul Hodat, vol.7, pg.105. [9] - Behar al-Anwar, vol.52, pg.91. [10] - Ayatollah Amini, Al-Imam al-Mahdi, The Just Leader of Humanity, pg.241. [11] - Bihar al-Anwar, Vol. 52, p. 244 [12] - Ayatollah Makarem Shirazi, The Universal Government of Mahdi (a.s), pg.80 – 83 [13] - Extracted from answer 535 (site: 585). [14] - Kamal al-Deen, vol.2, pg.377 and 378. [15] - See: Law and Politics in the Quran, Ayatollah Mesbah Yazdi. [16] - Vide: The Scholars and Legitimacy of the Safavid State by Muhammad Ali ussein Zadeh. [17] - Ibid. pg. 87. [18] - Ibid. [19] - Vide: Religion and Politics during the Safavid Period by Rasul Ja’fariyan, pg.71. [20] - Vide: The Age of Reappearance by Ali Kurani . See also: Behar al-Anwar, vol.6, g.216. [21] - Ali Kurani, The Age of Reappearance, pg.228.

I 26 f moved in with my boyfriend 23 m back in February. It is now June and I am having physical symptoms of stress & depression, that’s how bad it got.
He has his older brother 29 & little brother 17 also living here, (I was unaware when I was moving in, he just said they stay “sometimes”) and they sleep on the living room floor. All three of them are nasty!

 They finish a bottle of water, and throw the bottles to the side. There is a collection of juice & soda bottles in the living room. They barely drink water anyways, only if I BUY IT & they decide to help themselves. 

There was no garbage can when I moved in. They would just plastic bags from their store runs or take out food.
They leave crumbs on the kitchen counter. All over the floor. It is like there is absolutely no awareness & no care.
They leave toilet seat up. And sometimes there’s a “dust” left over on the toilet seat from someone dirty & sweaty sitting down.
The little brother will leave food out & hide it. You tell him don’t do it, he smiles and says okay. Later that night, there’s something else left out.
The house has a real heavy smell of funk. It either smells just dirty, or like the little brother’s extremely strong & pungent body odor. & I mean, the WHOLE house. Except the bedroom because I usually make sure the door is closed.
My boyfriend will bite his nails & spit it on the floor, so there’s bitten fingernails on the floor. I have a bad nail biting habit as well, but mine go in the trash!!
The older brother has a body-scrubby thing in the shower and it’s literally black. Why is your body that dirty & why do you not feel the need to wash it out. Just showcase it in everyone’s face in the shower. Once again, I think I’m the only one that is bothered.
I don’t want to keep my toothbrush or loofah in shower anymore. Can’t help but think of the dirty water bouncing off of their bodies (that they don’t properly clean just like their environment) on to my intimate hygienic items.
There is absolutely no consideration for the next person!! Or no shame, embarrassment. Nothing.
I buy a box of little bites from the grocery store (very expensive, like 7$ for 5 bags) & my boyfriend wants to eat 3 bags back to back. He can be very glutton, and I try to express we are on a fixed income with government assistance. He knows this, because he’s the only one working right now! You would think he’d be more mindful of the little money he works so hard for.
Boyfriend is also very inconsistent, just quit his 4th job in a matter of 6 months.
Older brother works multiple jobs & does not contribute shit. Does not even offer to take the garbage out. It’s like he can’t be bothered with nothing pertaining to the household, but this is where he comfortably lays his head. I sarcastically joked to my boyfriend he should just make his older brother a copy of the keys since he always has our set of keys & inconveniences us, & he actually did! Despite claiming it was only temporary.
The other brothers will sneak MY food and drinks in the night. They don’t even ask, just sneak.
I don’t want to eat out of the kitchen. I feel like every surface is contaminated.
I feel like anyone would be upset. I left my 1 bedroom apartment for this. I lived by myself, it was beautiful, nicely decorated, and always smelled great. I am at my wits end with heart pains, fainting spells, & stomach aches as soon as I open my eyes.
And my bf never sees a problem unless I say something, and even then results are very temporary. All of them are very comfortable in dirt. Yuck.
Then, when boyfriend does clean it is not proper. If he sweeps, I have to come sweep behind him & I end up with a bigger pile of dirt than he originally did, thinking he just fully cleaned!
I do little basic things for my sanity, but I refuse to clean up after 3 grown dirty men with horrid cleaning standards.
Sorry for the extremely long post, I am at a breaking point.
AITA for thinking about ending the relationship & finding all of this extremely repulsive?

I 26 f moved in with my boyfriend 23 m back in February. It is now June and I am having physical symptoms of stress & depression, that’s how bad it got.
He has his older brother 29 & little brother 17 also living here, (I was unaware when I was moving in, he just said they stay “sometimes”) and they sleep on the living room floor. All three of them are nasty!

 They finish a bottle of water, and throw the bottles to the side. There is a collection of juice & soda bottles in the living room. They barely drink water anyways, only if I BUY IT & they decide to help themselves. 

There was no garbage can when I moved in. They would just plastic bags from their store runs or take out food.
They leave crumbs on the kitchen counter. All over the floor. It is like there is absolutely no awareness & no care.
They leave toilet seat up. And sometimes there’s a “dust” left over on the toilet seat from someone dirty & sweaty sitting down.
The little brother will leave food out & hide it. You tell him don’t do it, he smiles and says okay. Later that night, there’s something else left out.
The house has a real heavy smell of funk. It either smells just dirty, or like the little brother’s extremely strong & pungent body odor. & I mean, the WHOLE house. Except the bedroom because I usually make sure the door is closed.
My boyfriend will bite his nails & spit it on the floor, so there’s bitten fingernails on the floor. I have a bad nail biting habit as well, but mine go in the trash!!
The older brother has a body-scrubby thing in the shower and it’s literally black. Why is your body that dirty & why do you not feel the need to wash it out. Just showcase it in everyone’s face in the shower. Once again, I think I’m the only one that is bothered.
I don’t want to keep my toothbrush or loofah in shower anymore. Can’t help but think of the dirty water bouncing off of their bodies (that they don’t properly clean just like their environment) on to my intimate hygienic items.
There is absolutely no consideration for the next person!! Or no shame, embarrassment. Nothing.
I buy a box of little bites from the grocery store (very expensive, like 7$ for 5 bags) & my boyfriend wants to eat 3 bags back to back. He can be very glutton, and I try to express we are on a fixed income with government assistance. He knows this, because he’s the only one working right now! You would think he’d be more mindful of the little money he works so hard for.
Boyfriend is also very inconsistent, just quit his 4th job in a matter of 6 months.
Older brother works multiple jobs & does not contribute shit. Does not even offer to take the garbage out. It’s like he can’t be bothered with nothing pertaining to the household, but this is where he comfortably lays his head. I sarcastically joked to my boyfriend he should just make his older brother a copy of the keys since he always has our set of keys & inconveniences us, & he actually did! Despite claiming it was only temporary.
The other brothers will sneak MY food and drinks in the night. They don’t even ask, just sneak.
I don’t want to eat out of the kitchen. I feel like every surface is contaminated.
I feel like anyone would be upset. I left my 1 bedroom apartment for this. I lived by myself, it was beautiful, nicely decorated, and always smelled great. I am at my wits end with heart pains, fainting spells, & stomach aches as soon as I open my eyes.
And my bf never sees a problem unless I say something, and even then results are very temporary. All of them are very comfortable in dirt. Yuck.
Then, when boyfriend does clean it is not proper. If he sweeps, I have to come sweep behind him & I end up with a bigger pile of dirt than he originally did, thinking he just fully cleaned!
I do little basic things for my sanity, but I refuse to clean up after 3 grown dirty men with horrid cleaning standards.
Sorry for the extremely long post, I am at a breaking point.
AITA for thinking about ending the relationship & finding all of this extremely repulsive?
How would you feel?

In a speech delivered to the Reichstag at the Berlin Sportpalast on January 30, 1941 on the occasion of the eighth anniversary of his rise to power, Adolf Hitler (who happened to mention the term "New Order" in that speech) had this to say about the British Empire:

Three hundred years earlier England had gradually built her Empire, not perhaps through the free will or the unanimous demonstrations of those affected, but for 300 years this World Empire was welded together solely by force. War followed war. One nation after another was robbed of its freedom-one state after another was shattered so that the structure which calls itself the British Empire might arise. Democracy was nothing but a mask covering subjugation and the oppression of nations and individuals. This State cannot allow its members to vote if today, after they have been worked upon for centuries, they should freely choose to be members of this Commonwealth. On the contrary, Egyptian Nationalists, Indian Nationalists in their thousands are filling the prisons. Concentration camps were not invented in Germany; it is the English who were the ingenious inventors of this idea. By these means they contrived to break the backbone of other nations, to remove their resistance, to wear them down, and make them prepared at last to submit to this British yoke of democracy.
In this process, a formidable weapon was that of lying, that is, of propaganda. A proverb says that if the Englishman speaks of God he means cotton. And so it is today. Considering how pious and religious are the outward gestures of men who deliberately, and with a cold heart, drive nation after nation into a struggle serving only their material interests, one is compelled to state that rarely has human hypocrisy reached such a pitch as that of the English today. At any rate, at the end of the blood-stained path of British history over three centuries stands the fact that 46,000,000 Englishmen in the mother country are ruling about a quarter of the globe.

Although Hitler was correct to note that concentration camps were first invented generations before he came to power because detention centers built in Cuba by the Spanish colonial authorities in the 1890s for people who were out to help Cuban independence fighters can be considered the first concentration camps due to the Spanish term reconcentrados being coined for those detention camps, his claims that the British Empire betrayed democratic principles by detaining activists participating in movements clamoring for India and other British colonies in Africa and Asia to be free from British rule flew in face of the fact that Hitler, like the English slave ship captains and British colonial officers India and sub-Saharan Africa as well as German colonial officers in Namibia and German East Africa, considered Africans to be inferior to the Aryan, even though he rightly alluded to the fact that Mohandas "Mahatma" Gandhi was jailed by the British colonial authorities in India for speaking out against the British treatment of Indians as second-class citizens (as evidenced by Gandhi not being allowed to sit in the same passenger train car as white passengers while he was in South Africa in the 1890s).

Hello, Reddit roleplay community! ✨
To quickly introduce myself — hi! I’m Mae (she/hehers), 30, and a highly literate writer. I prefer partners who can keep up with an average of three paragraph replies, although I can personally go over that when I’m feeling particularly impassioned. I absolutely adore plotting and character development, so you won’t find me running out of twists and ideas. When I really enjoy a roleplay, I’ll almost always end up making a playlist and/or Pinterest board.
Who I’m looking for is someone to muse Genya Shinazugawa. I will roleplay with cismales, but DO NOT ON GOD PLEASE FOR THE SAKE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY be creepy. We are writing together. This does not mean we are in any sort of relationship, and as a woman already in a committed relationship, I do NOT appreciate being hit on or flirted with. My characters are characters, not me.
To reiterate, the canon character I’m seeking is Genya. There are two female OCs I have in the works who I would like to write against him, who I will be happy to elaborate on in DMs. This way, you’ll have a bit of a choice between one of the two. For you, I can write Kyōjurō Rengoku — he is the canon I feel most comfortable writing.
If you’re interested, send me a chat or a message, and we can hammer out the details in private.
Thanks for taking the time to read by post, and I hope to hear from some of you!!

1853; the west was still to be tamed.
It was in this year we find the establishment of Camp Elliot. As you might know through some knowledge of niche history, this camp was founded by a caravan composed of twelve men all looking to set up their own settlement. The caravan was led by a “Jonathan Elliot”. He came from Seattle, back before it had even known that name. Since leaving the freshly dug out city, ambitions set on their own prospect, the company had already been travelling for about 3 days. In their overt ambition, they became careless. They had run low on fresh water, heads pounding and tongues gone dry.
So, temporarily pitched in the wilderness, Mr. Elliot decided to send out a six-man party to search for some. He told them to stay together and not to come back until they found at least a pail’s worth of water. The six men went out. They stayed out for some three hours, until the sun was in its crimson crest; and the search was becoming hopeless.
“We have to go back!” some had said. Others argued otherwise, sticking to what Mr. Elliot had instructed. To the latter, they caved; and it came to be a mistake.
It soon got pitch dark and they had nothing but matches to see some inches past their faces. A panic quickly ensued. Many were on the verge of a breakdown, almost certain they were lost.
Suddenly, there was a light. It was spotted first by the chief of the party. It was some ways off in the distance, pulsing in the night.
They quickly calmed, believing they had found their caravan once again. They approached, clambering over branches and rocks, scraping more than just their knees.
Before long, the light had become much more recognizable. It was a torch. The party chief ordered the other five men to prepare their rifles. They feared it to be anything. Hostile prospectors, moonshiners, perhaps a native tribe that had been left undisturbed or for that matter discovered. They walked covertly; coming to the edge of what turned out to be a clearing in the trees. In the clearing was a lake; Arrowhead Lake it would come to be known as.
Standing on its shore, there were people; practically a riot. A group of shirtless men were seen dancing around a fire, reciting chants and rhymes in their own special tongue. One of them held a large rock in their right hand, a pointed arrow in his left. The rest of the men seemed to be goading him, applauding him in this bizarre ritual.
These weren’t natives. They were pale as ice, eyes surrounded by darkness. Their hair was all but present. They almost didn’t seem human.
Just then, one of the party members fired. The battle was short, but one of the so-called “drunks” managed to take down one of the six men with a bow-and-arrow.
That is where the Arrowhead Lake received its name.
The remaining five of the party slept by the fire until dawn, not bothering to look over their attackers’ belongings until then. They were too busy in mourning over the loss of their companion.
The next day, what they found was, for lack of a better word, disturbing.
What they had thought was a rock in the hand of one of their attackers was actually a small green turtle. The man who had held it had cut it open with the arrow, leaving it limp, distorted, and bloody.
But that wasn’t the most unsettling aspect. The blood on its body wasn’t red. It was pitch black. Black as ink. As black as the night upon which it was gutted.
Believing it to be poison, the men threw the mangled turtle’s corpse into the lake; tossing it as far out as they could. A couple of hours went by, and Jonathan Elliot with the other six in the caravan had then found the party and the lake. A brief funeral and burial were held for their one fallen man as well as his attackers.
What followed was a conversation, a debate over what to do next. In the end, plans for a cabin were sorted out. The cabin was finished in 1855 and still stands on the Camp Elliot grounds to this day.
That is not where this tale ends, however.
After about a month of it being open, a strange power came over the camp. Each time that a caravan would stop to do business or even rest awhile, another person from the original founding group would have gone missing. They hadn’t died, they hadn’t moved on to elsewhere. They would just vanish.
Then another would follow. Then another, and another, and another. With each time someone would visit, the camp would be found in worse shape than it was before.
Then came one day in 1856: a caravan of travelling salesmen had come to the camp, looking to do some trade. What they found was a single person: Jonathan Elliot, the titular founder of Camp Elliot. He was found tucked beneath his bed, cradled himself into a ball, malnourished and in bad health. Members of the caravan described a look of pure madness in his eyes as he said something over and over. It was a single phrase, hard to make out, but it was something like, “NO GOLD HERE! NO GOLD HERE!”
He never spoke any other words beside these. What with it being the era of the gold rush, the claim from the sales caravan upon returning to Seattle was that a group of maddened prospectors had attacked the camp in search of gold, killing all except for himself. They would have brought him back to Seattle with them, but in a fit of hysteria, he put a rifle in his mouth before they could.
In the passing of time since then, the camp has been claimed by many other groups, each coming and going. At one time, it was a trading post. Then it became a mine again but no ores were ever unearthed. So it seemed that Elliot was right. Then finally, in 1916, it became a Boy Scout camp; and so it has been ever since.
As for the mystery of this place, there is something about it they often say. On certain nights, ones where the lake is its darkest and the moon and stars are almost extinguished, a shadow arises.
Nobody knows who of. Nobody knows what of. All they know is that it utters an ungodly sound, a sound that resembles nothing of this earth; nothing of this reality.
Some who have seen the shadow are often too afraid to describe what it looked like. Others have not even lived to tell others. But their suicides have confirmed their experience.
Now why do I write all of this? Because I have seen it. I was a counselor at Camp Elliot. The night that I saw it, it was just outside my window; staring me down like a wolf as I lay in my cot. Though I apparently had the mental strength to take it, to describe it in full would go against my superstitions. I care too much for others to risk you all sharing in my experience. But I will admit this: that no primal beast on this earth can bring such feelings of helplessness and desolation as the crimson gaze of its plate-like eyes.
And I felt all the more helpless the next morning when I came to find that another child had gone missing. They searched in all manner of ways for months and the case remains open; as do the others that preceded it.
The shadow exists. Likely borne of whatever unnatural and unholy ritual was performed at Arrowhead Lake; a ritual the caravan had unknowingly completed. It has taken men, women, and children; and it will continue to take more. That’s why now, all I can do is lobby to finally close that damned camp for good. It is the one piece of land I think in all the West that can never be tamed…and it never should be.
Knowing all these things, I realize now that Jonathan Elliot was right.
There is no God at Camp Elliot. Not until Judgment Day.
————————————————————————

You are being reincarnated into the Gu world, luckly you have been granted access to this character creator. Pick and choose your perks, etc.
You don't need to pick options from any category except, timeline, Innate traits, location and aptitude.
Start with 1.500 Character Points

Timeline:
Choose your timeline.

First timeline. +300 CP
You are born on the 11th of November the same time as Fang Yuan. Some 17 years later Fang Yuan is forced to join a caravan and leaves Qing Mao mountain. Spectral Soul's heaven defying plan succeeds, however Spring Autumn Cicada is never refined instead Fang Yuan refines blood deity and becomes a demonic powerhouse.

Second timeline. Free
You are born the same time as Fang Yuan in his first life. After 15 years, the night before the awakening ceremony, Fang Yuan's will travels 500 years back in time, and the events of Qing Mao mountain ensues…

I Am Fang Yuan! +100 CP
You are born Gu Yue Fang Yuan, the Fang Yuan we know will never transmigrate to the Gu world. The world will be as it was, when set in motion in chapter 1 of reverend insanity. Will Spectral Soul resurrect and dominate the five regions and two heaven? Will you destroy fate? You do not have Spring Autumn Cicada, but every other benefit from this character creator. Skip the location and innate traits section.

Late Antiquity Righteous Era. +250 CP
You are born many years after Spectral Souls demon venerables death. Shadow Sect haven't been created yet and the rise of an immortal venerable is inevitable. Soul path is flourishing and the demonic path has a foothold in the mainstream, but the tides will turn with the birth of paradise earth. Cultivate to your hearts desire.

Late Antiquity Demonic Era. +450 CP
You are born at the end of the medieval antiquity era. Giant Sun immortal venerable is dead and the Huang Jin tribes are flourishing in northern plains. Soul path has yet to be created and a murderous demon venerable is inevitable going to rise. May you leave a footprint in history.


Innate traits:
You may choose which sex you are born as for no cost

Variant Human. +250 CP
You may choose to be born as any variant human. If you choose dragonman then you start your own bloodline, with you as ancestor instead of Duke Long. Thereby being immune to Duke Long's Dragonman Extermination killer move.

Human. Free
You may choose to be born as a human, a safe choice. Although nothing is safe in the Gu world.


Location:
You may freely choose which of the five regions you are born into.
You may choose any tier of clan and additionally choose which status you are born into in that clan.
If you choose central continet you will be born to a sect member instead of in a clan.
You may choose to be born into any clan/sect from the story or to be born into one at random according to the chosen criteria.

Mortal Village +150 CP

Mid-tier clan +50 CP
Rank 2 heir +50 CP
Heir of an elder Free
Heir of the clan leader -50 CP

High tier Clan -50 CP
Random +50 CP
Rank 2 heir Free
Heir of an elder -50 CP
Heir of the clan leader -100 CP

Super Clan -100 CP
Random +50 CP
Rank 2 heir Free
Heir of an elder -50 CP
Heir of a rank 5 -100 CP
Child of an immortal -200 CP

*In the mortal village you and one of your parents are the only Gu masters.
*If you pick Child of an immortal, you will be the child of a random immortal from the super clan you picked or a random super force.


Aptitude:
If you pick a grade you will get a random aptitude within that aptitude range. You can roll a 2d10 or use a number generator to get a number between 0-19.
If you buy one of the ten extreme physiques, you are guaranteed a super grade blessed land.

Random +50CP
D-Grade Aptitude (20%-39%) +100 CP

C-Grade Aptitude (40%-59%) Free

B-Grade Aptitude (60%-79%) -50 CP

A-Grade Aptitude (80%-99%) -100 CP

Ten(Eleven) Extreme Physique (Your choice of physique) -150 CP

*If you picked random you can roll a d100.
*If you choose A grade, and get 99% you can't evolve into an extreme physique.


Soul:
Throw a d10, that number is where you are in your bought category. Meaning, if you pick Ten Thousand man soul and get a 6, on the d10, you will have a 60.000 man soul.
You body also gains the necessary Dao marks to contain such a powerful soul.

Ten thousand man soul. -50 CP
This is the soul foundation of a rank 5 expert. A clan leader of a super force, with all the resources that comes with, can expect to reach this soul foundation in 30 years, 20 if they use special or detrimental methods.

Hundred thousand man soul. -100 CP
The soul foundation of a rank 6 immortal who has spent a great deal of effort strengthening their soul.

One million man soul. -200 CP
The soul foundation of a great expert of a path that benefits from soul foundation, like refinement path, wisdom path, enslavement path, etc. Any higher and the Dao mark interference from your soul will become too great.

Ten million man soul. -300 CP
Only a soul path immortal would have a soul foundation this great. At this level the interference from the soul path Dao marks on your soul would be detrimental to cultivating other paths. That is, unless you have a way to get around this Dao mark interference.


Attainment:
You can buy attainment in a path. When you gain the attainment, it acts as if you had gained the attainment through practice and hard work. Not through dream realms or true meaning. You can only buy a limited amount of grandmaster and great grandmaster attainment.
You can only buy grandmaster attainment in 6 paths.
You can only buy great grandmaster attainment in 3 paths.

Master. -50 CP
You can choose to gain master attainment in 3 paths each time you buy this option.
Master attainment is the attainment level of an expert among mortal Gu masters often taking decades to achive. This level attainment gives the Gu master uncanny intuition concerning their path.

Grandmaster. -50 CP
Among mortals only once in century genius' can become grandmaster in a path. Usually grandmaster attainment is reserved for rank 7 experts. Having this level of attainment, one will be able to mimic other paths and to create immortal killer moves using immortal materials, instead of immortal Gu.

Great grandmaster. -100 CP
Only experts among rank 8 have great grandmaster attainment. This level of attainment will allow the user to easily think up new recipes for mortal level Gu worms of their path. Great grandmaster's can even utilize the natural Dao marks of the Gu world.


Immortal ascension:
The quality of ones blessed land is dependent on ones accumulated human Qi. To accumulate human Qi one need to deep ones foundation, by increasing attainment level, experiencing the multitudes of life as a cultivator and attuning oneself to ones chosen path, by carving the apropiate dao marks onto ones body, mind and soul.

Immortal aperture
Immortal aperture are divided into four grades, low, medium, high and super grade. Each grade is defined by the size of the arear inside the blessed land, the immortal essence production and the size of the tributary of the river of time.
The spaciousness of your aperture determines the room for development inside it. The more developed an immortal aperture the more immortal essence it produces, and the more resource it produces to use, sell and trade. You will be rollling for how much space is inside your aperture.

The immortal essence production of an immortal aperture is indicative on how vigorously or often an immortal can fight and use immortal cultivation methods. Without immortal essence beads immortal Gu can't be activated, leaving the Gu immortal impotent. You will be rolling for how many immortal essence beads your aperture produces for each year that passes inside it.

The size of the tributary of time decides how much faster time passes inside your immortal aperture, compared to the five regions time (FRT). This determines how fast you pass tribulations and calamities. As an immortal at rank 6 or above, every 300 years that pass inside your aperture ascends you one rank until you reach rank 9. Meaning it takes 900 years of time inside your aperture to become rank 9. You will roll for how many times faster time flows in your aperture compared to the five regions time.

If you ascend as a time path immortal double the tributary of the river of time in your aperture
If you ascend as a space path immortal gain 50% more space in your aperture.


Low grade blessed land. +400 CP

Starting blessed land size:
2000 km2

Base tributary of the river of time (TRoT):
1d6 = x TRoT

Immortal essence beads (IEB) production per year:
1d10+10 = IEB at


Medium grade blessed land. Free

Starting blessed land size:
(d4+1) * 1000 = Area km2

Base tributary of the river of time (TRoT):
2d10 = x TRoT

Immortal essence beads (IEB) production per year:
1d10+20 = IEB at


High grade blessed land. -100 CP

Starting blessed land size:
(1d4+4) * 1000 = Area km2

Base tributary of the river of time (TRoT):
1d10+20 = x TRoT

Immortal essence beads (IEB) production per year:
1d10+30 = IEB at


Super grade blessed land. -300 CP

Starting blessed land size:
(1d6+6) * 1000 = Area km2

Base tributary of the river of time (TRoT):
2d10+20 = x TRoT

Immortal essence beads (IEB) production per year:
2d10+50 = IEB at

*you don’t have to be an extreme physique to buy super grade blessed land.

Immortal Gu
When the immortal aperture is created there will be heaven and earth Qi left over that can be used to refine immortal Gu. You as a privileged CYOA participator, can use your points to refine immortal Gu. However you can't refine any immortal Gu from the or any Gu that was the vital Gu of a venerable, including Fortune Rivaling Heaven.
These Gu worms will be created from nothing, and Heavens will doesn't need to approve of you having these Gu worms.
*Purchase immortal Gu responsibly, it's more fun if you don't break the setting.

Rank 7 and 8 immortal Gu are very powerful, therefor there is a limit to how many you can refine at ascension:
You can only buy 3 rank 7 immortal Gu
You can only buy 1 rank 8 immortal Gu

A rank 6 immortal Gu cost 200 CP.

A rank 7 immortal Gu cost 400 CP.

A rank 8 immortal Gu cost 800 CP.


Grab bag:
Grab bag perks are minor perks that are nice to have but not substantial enough to be full perks by themselves.

Pick 3 of any grab bag perks -50 CP

Pick 5 of any grab bag perks -100 CP

Pick 7 of any grab bag perks -150 CP

Reading materials.
You have a popup window where you can read Reverend Insanity and the Reverend Insanity wiki, only you can read it.

Gu professor.
You always know if an immortal Gu exist or not.

Polyglot.
You can speak and read the language of every region.

Thousand man soul.
You are born with a 1.000 man soul. With this soul foundation you could control more then 100.000 beast with enslavement path methods. As a Gu master your soul is also strong enough to beat all but rank 5 experts in a battle between souls.

Otherworldly Dao.
Choose what otherworldly Dao mark your soul comes with.

Settra.
Slavery Gu, of any rank, does not work on you.

Instant success.
Gu worms that carve Dao marks on the user, like Black Boar Gu, Iron Bone Gu etc., will have their full effects shown immediately and painlessly upon use and they won't need primeval essence to activate.

Mutated soul.
You may choose for your soul to be a mutated soul. For example if you chose to have a wolfman soul, your soul would have wolf characteristics and would be many times stronger when controlling wolves. You can also choose to have mutated soul of a path. For example an ice soul, which will boost the effect of ice path Gu worms.

Flying master.
You now have master level attainment in flying.

Extremely attractive appearance.
You have an extremely attractive appearance, and people will subconsciously treat you better because of it.

Eidetic memory.
You gain perfect eidetic memory. However, you may still forget things if you so wish.

Aptitude reroll.
You get to reroll your aptitude and choose the higher number. You can pick this grab bag perk multiple times.


Perks:
Perks are divided into tiers.
Any perk that gives Gu worms or recipes for Gu worms may not give Lifespan Gu or the recipe for them, unless otherwise stated.

Tier 1 perks

Primeval wealth. -50 CP
You gain a rank 4 Primeval elder Gu containing ten million primeval stones. This is the wealth of a mid sized clan. You may buy this option multiple times.

Gu set. -50 CP
You may pick 10 Gu worms of the same path from rank 1 to 5, they will individually appear in your aperture when you choose. If the Gu worm you have chosen can be refined to a higher rank, you can do so instantly at no cost when you wish, but not to a rank higher than 5. You may buy this perk as many times as you want.

Mortal recipes. -50 CP
You may pick any 10 mortal Gu worms and gain their rank 1 through to rank 5 recipes. The recipes will use modern materials. Meaning, if you choose an ancient or extinct Gu worm, like All-out effort Gu, you will gain a recipe containing materials that are reasonably available. You may purchase this perk multiple times.

Close combat master. -50 CP
You are a battle genius and you have mastered of Krav Maga, Boxing, Brazilian Jujitsu, Grappling and Mauy Thai. Furthermore, you have master level proficiency with longsword, spear, axe and polearm.

Inhuman transformations. -50 CP
If you transform into a less then human form, you will automatically have the ability move and control your body as if you were born in such a form.

Flying grandmaster. -50 CP
You now have grandmaster attainment in flying. Geniuses renowned for their flying skill, at most have qusai-grandmaster flying attainment.

Longevity. -50 CP
You gain a hundred year lifespan Gu. You can use it to increase your lifespan or keep it for a different use.


Tier 2 perks

Dual Dao. -100 CP
You may choose two paths. Those paths do not interfere with each other when you use them.

Variant Dao. -100 CP
If you are a variant human you gain great grandmaster attainment in the path of your Dao. Meaning dragon men gain great grandmaster in enslavement path, hairy men gain refinement path, etc. This doesn't count towards your great grandmaster attainment limit.

Second aperture. -100 CP
You can awaken your second aperture at a time of your choosing. The second aperture functions as if created by rank 6 Second Aperture Gu, meaning it has no restriction of which rank it can rise to. Ascended to an immortal aperture this aperture will be have the same characteristics as your first one. If you picked Dual Dao and Second Aperture, you may also choose two paths that don't interfere in the second aperture.

Superior Gu set. -100 CP
You may pick 10 Gu worms they will appear in your aperture when you choose. If the Gu worm you have chosen can be refined to a higher rank, you can do so instantly at no cost when you wish, but not to a rank higher than 5. Furthermore, these 10 Gu worms do not need to be fed. You can buy this perk twice.

Immortal recipes. -100 CP
You can choose 10 Gu worms and you will obtain the rank 1 recipes, and the rank 2. etc. all the way to rank 9 for each Gu you choose. That is, you will receive the recipe for the lowest possible rank that the Gu worm can be and up. You can choose when you receive each recipe. Whether or not you recive the whole family of recipes at the same time or not. The recipes will only contain materials that can all be found in the current era, with the higher ranked recipes being possible exception. They may contain very exotic or necessarily extinct, but still existing, materials. Some Gu can't exist at the mortal level to a functional degree. You will still recive the recipes for these, but they can at most serve as reference value. You may pick this perk twice.

Auto balancer. -100 CP
When undergoing immortal ascension your Heaven, Earth and Human Qi will automatically be balanced for you. It's guaranteed that you will pass immortal ascension, the only thing that can stop your ascension is being killed by the tribulation itself or outside influences.

Year essence pool. -100 CP
Your immortal aperture gains a year essence pool. This is a enviroment mimicking the river of time, that exist parallelly to your aperture. Meaning that the year essence pool doesn’t take up any space in your aperture. The year essence pool also allows you to control the size of the tributary of the river of time flowing into your aperture. Meaning that you can slow the time of your aperture to anywhere between the time you rolled for, in the immortal ascension section, and that of the five regions.

Wealth of Food -100 CP
Upon immortal ascension a resource point is created inside your aperture for each rank 6 immortal Gu. Each resource point produces food for a corresponding immortal Gu.


Tier 3 perks

Great era inheritance. -150 CP
You gain a rank 6 immortal inheritance, that guide you from rank 1 to the peak of rank 6. However, the inheritance will be 500 years ahead of time from the time of chapter 2 of Reverend Insanity. Furthermore, you may choose for the inheritance to be a path of the great ere like weapon path, pill path, etc. The inheritance contains a myriad recipes for mortal Gu worms of the path that you choose and 5 rank 6 immortal Gu recipes of that path. The inheritance contains no Gu in it of itself.

Dream realm. -150 CP
A dream realm appears at a time and location of your choosing. It will contain true meaning pertaining to a path of your choice. It will be big enough for one person to achive great grandmaster attainment and another one to achive grandmaster attainment, or for three people to attain grandmaster attainment.

Immortal killer moves. -150 CP
You can choose 10 immortal killer moves. You learn the lowest to the highest rank possible of these killer moves. You can pick the same killer move more then once. This means that if you picked time cutting edge you can learn it again when it disappears from your memories.

Life and death aperture. -150 CP
Upon immortal ascension you will experience tribulations at half the strength they normally would be, but you still gain the same amount of Dao marks. With this perk you are also guaranteed to get a high grade blessed land. Unless you posses an extreme physique then you will gain a super grade blessed land like you normally would.

Reinforced physique. -150 CP
If you have an extreme physique you suffer non of the down sides. You will not need to fear exploding by cultivating too high in the mortal ranks. You won't need an immortal Gu corresponding to your physique to ascend. You will soar through the mortal ranks. Your ascension will be on the high end of what a normal immortal might experience, so relativly tame compared to ten extreme physiques. After this Heaven's will isn't going to hold back on tribulation.

Dao physique. -150 CP
Don't pick anything in the aptitude section. Choose a path, you now have an extreme physique equivalent in that path. Meaning, if you chose sword path, you would have a sword path physique with all the benefits and drawbacks of a normal extreme physique.

Tier 4 perks

Anti-divination. -300 CP
You have a rank 9 perpetual killer move applied to you. Only a rank 9 wisdom path immortal with a rank 9 Gu will be able to deduce anything about you. Anytime someone makes deduction about you, they either fail or get an obfuscated answer. You can toggle this killer move so if you want Heavens will to be able to send you tribulations can toggle the killer move off.

Gu house. -250 CP
Choose 5 immortal Gu houses, you gain the blueprint of how to create each of these Gu houses.

Imperial staff. -250 CP
You gain a staff with three teleportation opportunities. You have three opportunities to teleport to any place mentioned in the novel that exist in your era. Except you cannot go to the 9th layer of crazed demon cave.

Rank 8 inheritance. -250 CP
You may choose one or two paths and gain a rank 8 inheritance of the path(s) you choose. You may not pick heaven path. If you bought 'Great era inheritance', this rank 8 inheritance may also be of a great era path along with the other features of 'Great era inheritance'. Regardless of if you bought 'Great era inheritance', you may pick three aspects that the inheritance specializes in. If you only choose for the inheritance to contain one path you may instead pick five: Offense, Defense, Movement, Investigation, Concealment, Healing, Aperture Management and path specialty.
Path speciality meaning, whatever your chosen paths speciality is. For wisdom path it would be deduction, soul path would be soul cultivation, etc.
If you choose two paths then the inheritance contain an excellent method to duel cultivate these two paths. The inheritance does not contain any Gu worms, however it contains the knowledge or how to refine, feed and use a myriad of Gu including several immortal Gu. The inheritance also contains peak strength mortal killer moves that cover all aspects, and how to empower these killer moves to immortal level by using immortal materials. Of course, the inheritance also details these killer moves when used with apropiate immortal Gu. The inheritance also comes with a battlefield killer move, you may choose one specialization for the battlefield killer move : Activation speed, Killing power, Concealment, Suppression. With this inheritance you cultivation will be smooth sailing from beginning to end.

Dao carver. -300 CP
You now gain twice as many Dao marks, from any source, as you otherwise would. Heavens will doesn't take into account how the existence or effect of this perk when sending you tribulations as an immortal.

Pocket paradise. -400 CP
You gain an orb with an blessed land inside. The orb can be carried inside your aperture. When not in your aperture you can activate it, which makes the orb immobile. When placed the orb functions like a blessed land with a land spirit you are in control of. When outside of the blessed land you can deactivate the orb and put it inside your aperture again. The orb supplies the blessed land with heaven and earth Qi, so you can move place the orb any of the five regions without problems. The blessed land has an interior size of 7.000 m2 and time that moves 40 times faster then the Gu world. The blessed land has enough resource production to earn 50 immortal essence stones every year that passes inside the blessed land. There is still a lot of room for development. The resources are related to the path of the blessed land, which you may choose. The blessed land is a paradise, and therefore won't experience tribulations.

Tier 5 perks

Prodigy. -350 CP
In a path of your choice, you now great grandmaster attainment and venerable talent in that path. Meaning you can reach supreme grandmaster without needing outside help. This includes dream realms or absorbing true meaning. Though it may take a few centuries to reach your potential. This does not count towards the limit of how many great grandmaster attainments you can buy.

Small Dream Immortal Venerable. -400 CP
You have master attainment in every path. Master attainment gives have an uncanny and accurate intuitions about everything in the Gu world. For example, when searching for a person or object you will have an accurate, if vague, intuition about which way to search. There are no longer restrictions on how much attainment you can buy.

Legendary expert. -400 CP
You have quasi supreme grandmaster attainment in two paths of your choice. You are now the undisputed expert in your field alive today, but you will still need to exert a great deal of effort to raise your attainment to supreme grandmaster. If taken with prodigy you will immediately gain supreme grandmaster attainment in the path you picked for prodigy.

Gugle maps. -400 CP
Gain a perfectly accurate map of the entire Gu world. The map is in your head but can also be projected as a 3d hologram, and you can choose if others can see it. The map is in google earth like detail and contains information on resource points, hidden inheritances, blessed lands and grotto-heavens, secluded domains. You cannot use the map to see into blessed lands or grotto heavens, but you can see where they are located. The map is not merely a videogame map, it also contains highly detailed information on demographics, infrastructure, detailed economic data, beast territory and more. This map is accurate enough for fixed immortal travel Gu to work with, but activation becomes more likely to fail, the longer since it was updated. To update the map as a mortal sacrifice 100% of your current essence type. As an immortal sacrifice 300 beads of your current immortal essence.


Venerable traits:
You may pick only one of these, but they are free.

Primordial Origin immortal venerable.
You gain ten one thousand years lifespan Gu. You can choose when to recive each Gu individually.

Star Constellation immortal venerable.
As an immortal, every time your aperture produces an immortal essence bead, you can experience the effect of the light of wisdom as if from a rank 9 wisdom Gu, but without the loss of lifespan, for 10 minutes. You can save up these minutes.

Limitless demon venerable.
Chose a path. For as long as you cultivate only that path, and don't use immortal Gu of a different path. you will gain 5x the amount of dao marks in that path as you otherwise would. If you use other paths you permanently loose this perk. This stacks multiplicatively with dao carver.

Reckless Savage demon venerable.
You gain 3 slots. Each slot can be filled with a path. The paths your slots have been filled with don't interfere with each other. You also have great grandmaster attainment in these paths while you have them slotted. You can change the paths of in your slots once every week, central continet time.

Red Lotus demon venerable.
Choose a moment. From now on, whenever you die you or when you choose, your are sent back to that moment. You cannot change the moment that you regress to, it will always be the same moment. Every time you regress, your luck gets massively worse. After 10 regressions, it will be as if everyone but you has Fortune Rivaling Heaven.

Genesis Lotus immortal venerable.
As a mortal your primeval essence regeneration is a 100 times what it normally would be. As an immortal, your origin core produce ten time the normal amount of immortal essence. Meaning if your have an average high grade blessed land with no development, you will produce 300 beads of immortal essence every year that passes in your aperture.

Thieving Heaven immortal venerable.
When you kill someone you can guarantee that they can't destroy a certain amount of immortal Gu. If you kill a rank 6 immortal, they can't destroy one of their rank 6 immortal Gu. If you kill a rank 7 immortal Gu they can't destroy one rank 7 immortal Gu and two rank 6 immortal Gu. If you kill a rank 8 immortal, they can't destroy one rank 8 Gu, two rank 7 Gu and four rank 6 immortal Gu. Etc.
If there are multiple choices, the saved Gu are chosen at random.

Giant Sun immortal venerable.
You have enourmous luck, like a child of human path. Only Red Lotus and Feng Jin Huang are above you in terms of luck.

Spectral Soul demon venerable.
You are born with a one thousand desolate soul, you soul alone has the strength of an high tier desolate beast. But you might be more susceptible to enslavement path methods, but it hardly matters since your soul is so devastatingly powerful.

Paradise earth immortal venerable.
As an immortal you gain natural inspiration, every time you face one of your major tribulations. Heavenly tribulations as rank 6, grand tribulations at rank 7, etc.

Heaven Refining demon venerable.
You gain unlimited willpower and motivation. You now have the perseverance to casually swim through the reverse flow river. Your will to power will never waver.


Missions:
These are objectives that you give you extra points, but you have to complete them within 300 years or you explode and die. Spectral Soul eats your soul, Heavens Will foils any rival methods. You cannot escape the consequence of not completing your missions.
You may pick as many mission as you want.

Extra time. -100 CP
You gain 200 more years of time to accomplish your missions.


Easy missions

Traditional. +100 CP
Create an inheritance and a suitable inheritance ground. Describe what the trials and requirements there are to get your inheritance.

Imperial Court. +200 CP
Enter the imperial court blessed land at least once.

Medium missions

Paradise. +200 CP
Enter the Grotto-Heaven Blue Dragon Whale at least once.

Secluded Domain.+200 CP
Obtain a secluded domain of heaven and earth. You have to have had ownership of a secluded domain for a month for this mission to be considered successful. You can take this missions three times. You have to obtain three different secluded domains for it to count. You can't 'loose' one and obtain it again later.

Supreme inheritance. +300 CP
Obtain a complete true inheritance of any venerable. Thieving Heavens three refinement opportunities from Lang Ya isn't a true inheritance.

Problem? KILL!. +350 CP
Destroy a super force. You don't have to kill all the members of that force, although it would be a good idea. You simply have to make it so that the super force doesn't exist anymore. This also counts if you can convince someone to exterminate for you, by trickery, commission, or other means.

Hard missions

Homewrecker. +400 CP
Your mission is to destroy 88 True Yang building. If 88 True Yang building is destroyed without your direct involvement, you fail.

Founding ancestor. +500 CP
Create a super force, it may be a clan, sect or other. The force has to span the five regions and each branch must have at least one entity with rank 8 battle strength. Be it a rank 8 Gu master, a rank 7 Gu house or ancient battle formation. 5 immemorial beast also counts as rank 8 battle strength. You have an extra 500 years to accomplish this missions.

Grand theft Gu. +400 CP
Obtain Sovereign Immortal Fetus Gu. With the time limit, you would probably have to complete this mission by either stealing it from Spectral Soul at Yi tian mountain. Or, you could refine it again using it's user, be it Spectral Soul or Fang Yuan, as a refinement material.

Become venerable. +400 CP
Break through the heavenly dao blockade and become venerable. Heavens Will isn't interested in you becoming venerable so you have to destroy or control Fate Gu. You only have 300 years though, so you have to be very quick.

Heavenly court. +600 CP
Join Heavenly Court and loyally serve it's interest. You don't have to save Fate Gu, you might even think it preferable if Red Lotus' plan comes to fruition. But, you have to do what you think is best for Heavenly Court.

Supremacy. +800 CP
As a variant human, make your race dominant in the five regions. You have a 10.000 year time limit.


Specific missions
These can only be picked if you chose the following timelines: Late Antiquity Righteous Era and Late Antiquity Demonic Era.

Pseudo venerable. +300 CP
You must reach pseudo venerable battle strength in all of your aspects of combat. E.I. having pseudo venerable defensive methods isn't enough.

Dao opponet. +300 CP
Defeat one of the coming venerables in battle. You must not be more then one rank above then when you defeat them, and you must not fight them while having immortal level cultivation while they are still mortal.


Drawbacks:
You may take as many drawbacks as you want. However you may not take drawbacks more then once.
Drawbacks overwrite other options picked in this character creator.

Easy drawbacks
No spoilers. +50 CP
You cannot share the contents of Reverend Insanity with anyone. You may still act on the information but you may not try to explain it to others.

Dao monogamous. +100 CP
Other paths interfere twice as much with the path of your vital Gu as they normally would. If you have dual Dao or Reckless Savage Demon Venerable as your venerable trait you cannot pick this drawback.

Un-undead. +100 CP
You cannot turn into a zombie. For good or ill you cannot become a zombie. Lifespan is always in short supply and you no longer have a fail safe.

Local dao. +200 CP
You are no longer an otherworldly demon. You will not have otherworldly dao marks and others cannot figure out your origin no matter what method they use. Not even soul searching you will let them find out you aren't from the Gu world.

True to your word. +200 CP
Alliance agreements become empowered. Dao marks related to any contract or alliance can only be forcefully removed by a specialized rank 9 killer move. You will have to be very carful with what you sign up to and always add a time limit.

Weakness. +200 CP
Choose one path, you are now twice as vulnerable to that path as you normally would be. You can pick this multiple times.

Medium drawbacks
Inhospitable enviroment. +300 CP
Choose a region, you cannot enter that region. This goes away when the regional walls disappears.

Like a mistress. +350 CP
Gu worms you own need twice as much food to be properly fed.

Halved lifespan. +300 CP
Your lifespan is halved, meaning if you are human you only have 50 years to live. Lifespan extension methods are as effective as they normally would be.

Clear Conscience. +300 CP
You cannot knowingly lie, and you are compelled to answer any question asked truthfully.

Indivisible. +300 CP
You cannot create clones. Others may not create clones of you either. You may still create external wills.

Forget me now. +400 CP
You loose all memory of reading Reverend Insanity upon rebirth. You still remember the options you took in this CYOA, and your previous life. If you picked reading materials in your grab bag it is removed and you can pick another.

Hard drawbacks
Dao dunce. +800 CP
You cannot increase your attainment level beyond what you buy in this character creator. Unless you buy prodigy, then you can become supreme grandmaster in that chosen path.


Multiplayer:
The Gu world is a capricious thief and has stolen not just but another unfortunate soul. But, this CYOA is fair to all, and so, you will not be the only one who gets too go through this character creator.
Convince another person to go through this CYOA and be reincarnated with you. You will have to both decide on a
Timeline.
This is entirely optional, I just thought it would be fun for people to test out builds together and against other people. I have also create some rules/objectives to facilitate the multiplayer, but you can make up your own.

Twin start:
Two players pick the 'I Am Fang Yuan!' timeline, one person will be reborn as Fang Yuan, the other will be reborn as Fang Zheng. Flip a coin to determine whos who. Optionally, you can also pick one of the two options below.

Co-op:
Each player picks a starting location and they have to collectively accomplish as many of the Missions as possible.

Feud:
Each player picks a separate starting location, and they have 300 years to kill each other. Come up with strategies to reach immortal level, and how to aquire the strength to fight each other

Lifetime - Staked: 921.15u, Profit/Loss: +14.81u, ROI: 1.61%, Parlay Suggestions: 177-69 Dog of the Week: 13-18, Picks: 8-3 (73% accuracy)
2024 - Staked: 274.05u, Profit/Loss: -18.55u
As always, scroll down for UFC Louisville Breakdowns. The following is just a recap of last event’s results.
~UFC 302 (PREVIOUS CARD)~
Staked: 12.5u
Profit/Loss: +7.64u
ROI: 61%
Parlay Suggestions: 3-0
Dog of the week: Cesar Almeida ❌
Picks: 8-3
Underwhelming card, but as expected it was a pretty easy one to predict. The favourites were mostly consistent, and most of the expected methods of victory landed. Nice profit made for once, but I think I had some fantastic reads on the card in spots that I didn’t bet. I said I expected Poirier to be competitive, and that Islam ITD wasn’t the lock people said it was. Matthews Decision was one I wanted to bet. I warned people that Hafez or Morono were the most likely bed-shitters. Basically, I think last week’s post would have been very useful to read.
✅ 2u Sean Strickland + Over 1.5 Rounds (-130) (won +1.54u)
✅ 2u Sean Strickland in R4, 5 or by Decision (+175) (won +3.5u) (accidentally edited this to 1u on the previous post, which wasn’t the intention. It’s was originally listed as 2u, and was tracked as such on my BetMMA record).
✅ 2u Kevin Holland + Grant Dawson (+110) (won 2.2u)
❌ 2u Cesar Almeida (+125)
❌ 1u Elizeu Zaleski dos Santos (+150)
✅ 2u Ailin Perez + Over 1.5 Rounds (-120) (won +1.66u)
✅ 1u Makhachev, Strickland, Holland, J. Almeida (+224) (won +2.24u)
❌ 0.5u Morono, Matthews, Hafez, Perez (+401)

~UFC Louisville~
Good to see more touring cards, and a slight step up in calibre from the usual Apex shit. Not a lot of spots I am confident in, I have to be honest…but I see a few underdogs that I’m sprinkling on.

~Jared Cannonier v Nassourdine Imavov~
Not another Nassourdine Imavov five rounder! I’m a fan of his skillset, but I think his cardio is suspect across 25 minutes, which ultimately makes his fights tricky to predict in spots like this. He’s not exactly a potent finisher, and I can’t trust him to win rounds four and five…so I think his path to victory is therefore limited by principal. A Nassourdine Imavov in a main event relies heavily on him winning R1, 2 and 3.
On the other side, Jared Cannonier is a guy I’ve never truly given the respect he deserves. A split decision win over Sean Strickland in a 25-minute fight is certainly impressive, as is the absolute beating he put on Marvin Vettori straight after* (* I believe Vettori has declined massively and is washed, so I won’t be going crazy in overreacting to that). Cannonier is a hard hitter, but he’s also gotten really comfortable in upping his volume across five round too, landing 141 and 241 significant strikes in those two aforementioned bouts respectively. The quantity didn’t dip in rounds 4 and 5 either, which is key considering my comments on Imavov’s cardio.
So I give Cannonier an advantage in R4 and 5, but what about across the other three? Well, the power advantage also goes to him, but the diversity with grappling and submission attempts falls with the Frenchman. Cannonier has started mixing takedowns into his game a bit more, which does present an opportunity for Imavov’s nasty front chokes…but other than that I’m not really sure where else I give Imavov a clear advantage outside of age and height. He’s the bigger fighter, but Cannonier is a strong dude and has looked just fine against other Middleweights (no one of Imavov’s size, to be fair).
Jared is now 40 years old, which is a bit of a dreaded number, which I think is the reasoning for this line being the way it is. People seem keen to blindly fade that age, regardless of whether it’s presented itself on tape. I see what they’re getting at, but Cannonier has put in two of his best performances of his career in his last two…I am not convinced it’s as simple as fading a 40 year old here.
So with that aside, I see far more merit to Cannonier’s side than Imavov’s, so the +100/-125 betting line feels off to me. I understand that Nassourdine just put in convincing performances against Roman Dolidze and Chris Curtis, but personally I think both of those fighters are a cut below Jared Cannonier (and I bet Nassourdine in both spots there). Cannonier would have looked good there too.
However, we have seen Imavov challenged against some of Middleweight’s common names, such as Sean Strickland and Joaquin Buckley…whilst Cannonier has looked good everywhere except against Izzy and Whittaker (he did drop a couple of rounds to Kelvin Gastelum, but it’s hardly raises alarm bells to me as Kelvin’s a tough guy to beat across 25 minutes of kickboxing).
I would personally make Cannonier the favourite here, anywhere between -125 and -150, and I assume the dreaded age of 40 is the reason for the odds here. I ask you this…if Jared Cannonier was 35, would the line be different? I believe it would be, and age is relative in MMA. It’s something to take seriously, of course, but I don’t think Cannonier even looked like he had started to decline in his most recent fight against Vettori last year.
I’ll be backing the underdog here at +100 or better. The line looks to be moving in Imavov’s favour so I will be patient.
How I line this fight: Jared Cannonier -137 (58%), Nassourdine Imavov +137 (42%)
Bet or pass: 1u Jared Cannonier to Win (+100 or better)
Prop leans: None
Live Betting Leans: If Cannonier looks to have won any of R1, 2, or 3 but is still a bettable price going into the championship rounds, I think he should be favoured to win those so could be a good entry in-play.

~Dominick Reyes v Dustin Jacoby~
This one should be fun for the live audience, but it’s an incredibly volatile fight for the bettors.
Very obvious to see why that’s the case for Dom Reyes – he’s got heaps of potential on a good day, but his chin is dust at this point. Seriously, he got knocked out cold by the jab of Ryan Spann. In a striking based fight at 205lbs, that’s all you need to know to decide that putting money on him is an uncomfortable idea.
Dustin Jacoby on the other hand is not the most potent finisher at Light Heavyweight, which immediately makes me think that Dustin isn’t the kind of guy you’d want to play executioner when he’s the favourite against someone with a flaw like Reyes’ chin. You want someone you can trust to put dudes to sleep in one punch – I don’t think that’s Jacoby (having gone the distance in seven of his 11 fights in this second UFC stint, and winning via leg kicks in one of the stoppages). Also, he’s not even particularly reliable to win rounds either, given that he was supposed to be the more technical fighter compared to Alonzo Menifield, Khalil Rountree, Azamat Murzakanov, and Maxim Grishin – where he was a moderate/big favourite every time, and never covered the price.
I still expect Jacoby to probably be the superior fighter across 15 minutes, but his -225 price tag definitely implies that a finish is expected by the oddsmakers…and I just have a whole lot less confidence that he lands it. From there, I also have less confidence that he’ll be the one winning rounds, given how easily he’s fumbled that in the past…so I just don’t see how you can have around 70% confidence in him winning here. Honestly I don’t really think Jacoby can ever justify that kind of pricetag at a UFC level when we have seen him shit the bed so many times.
On the other hand, I couldn’t trust Dominick Reyes’ chin to survive a strong gust of wind, so there’s no way I’d want to play him either. A very easy pass. I’ll pick Jacoby to win though, but I’d never bet him at this number.
In terms of thinking about props, I might be interested in looking at the Over 1.5 Rounds here, given that I disagree with the oddsmaker’s believe in Jacoby’s finishing ability. That’s going to be a horrible bet to sit through, so I’d probably need a decent price like +150 or better. We’ll see what they’re offering, but I doubt it’s that good.
How I line this fight: Dominick Reyes +175 (36%), Dustin Jacoby -175 (64%)
Bet or pass: Over 1.5 Rounds (+150 or better…no idea if that’s anywhere near what we’ll get)
Prop leans: See above

~Julian Marquez v Zach Reese~
Julian Marquez is a really fun fighter to watch, I’m glad to see him back inside the cage. He’s never been the most talented, but he’s a C+ at everything and has A grade heart. To beat him, you need to be clinical or vastly superior in one area, or Marquez might surprise you and turn the fight into a war of attrition.
Zach Reese is a 6-1 fighter that lost his debut Cody Brundage (I actually bet Brundage there, haha). Talk about fumbling the bag. He just seems like a classic DWCS fighter, who scores quick finishes against taxi drivers and then is suddenly expected to be diverse and talented enough to take on an actual trained professional that’s been competing against a much higher level for years. The difference between the regionals and the UFC has always been vast, and DWCS proves that time and time again.
Zach Reese’s longest fight time is 4 minutes and 13 seconds. He has literally never been in a fight that’s hit the second round. Julian Marquez, on the other hand, has gone longer than that in five of his 6 UFC appearances to date – and his opponents have all competed in the organisation at least five times. I genuinely think that tells you all you need to know.
And the craziest part is that Zach Reese ain’t even an inexperienced young gun. Him fumbling the debut wasn’t like Tom Nolan, a 24 year old kid that believed his own hype and got sloppy in his debut. Reese is THIRTY YEARS OLD.
The gulf in experience is massive, and the difference in age isn’t. I know Julian Marquez’s UFC record isn’t pretty at all, but how well do you think Zach Reese would fare if he faced the same opponents at the time Marquez did? I reckon he’d be 0-6.
Maybe I’m crazy, but Julian Marquez deserves better than to be a + money underdog against a literal regional opponent. Reese has tall man’s defence, he got tagged in both fights in DWCS/UFC and they were on the feet about 20 seconds combined. Yes he’s clearly got a great submission game on bottom, but Marquez has never been submitted, is a BJJ purple belt and has trained at decent camps before. He’s currently at the MMA Lab and has been training with Cannonier for this one.
I’ll be rolling the dice on the more proven fighter at +100.
How I line this fight: Julian Marquez -150 (60%), Zach Reese +150 (40%)
Bet or pass: 1u Julian Marquez to Win (+100)
Prop leans: None
Live Betting Leans: R1 finishers often have bad cardio, so if we get to the stool then Marquez is definitely worth a bet to turn the tide.

~Brunno Ferreira v Dustin Stoltzfus~
I can’t figure Dustin Stoltzfus out. He’s always presented himself as a good but one-dimensional grappler, judging by performances against high level competition such as Rodolpho Vieira and Gerald Meerschaert…but the way he showed up against Punahele Soriano made him look like a completely different guy. He was supposed to be easily outgunned on the feet there, but he looked seasoned and composed in the striking, and ultimately ended up getting a finish that I think very few people saw coming.
Brunno Ferreira is a super explosive Brazilian powerhouse that hasn’t gone past the halfway point in a fight yet. He throws heat and has that madman style, but his fights are so short I’ve no idea if he actually has any redeeming qualities from a technical or minute-winning perspective. As you probably know by now, my least favourite fighting style is ‘big strike go brrrr’. Ferreira has also had some bizarre results himself, pulling off a huge upset against Gregory Rodrigues, and then getting starched by Nursulton Ruziboev.
The only thing I know about Brunno is that he’ll go to war with an opponent that wants to meet him in the middle…I’ve no idea if Dustin Stoltzfus really wants to do that. He handled himself really well against a similar kind of style in Puna Soriano…but he’s also the same guy that got womped in under 20 seconds by Abus Magomedov.
To conclude, I think I could easily see Brunno Ferreira scoring an easy KO inside a couple of minutes, but I could also see this one looking way more competitive and close than the betting line suggests if Stoltzfus makes it to the stool. Lots of different possibilities, not a lot of confidence in any one outcome.
Brunno Ferreira kind of presents similar red flags to Zach Reese in the last breakdown. The difference between the two, and the reason I am fading Reese and not Brunno, is that I have confidence and knowledge that Marquez can handle that early chaos. I can’t say the same about Stoltzfus, so I won’t be taking a stab on him. Personally I think he’s absolutely the value side though, so if you’re someone who wants to bet every fight then absolutely take him.
I will also be picking him to win, but not because I think he does so 51% or more of the time…just because Ferreira is only known to have a limited path to victory that could easily fall apart.
How I line this fight: Such a volatile fight, I have no idea.
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: None

~Punahele Soriano v Miguel Baeza~
Speak of the devil!
Punahele Soriano is so, so overrated. I have no idea how he’s even still in the UFC, or how he even got there in the first place. He was hyped up by Dana and the promo team as this scary and lethal striker….but then he pussy’d out and grappled his way to a decision win against Jamie Pickett on DWCS. Surprisingly they rewarded him with a contract (but didn’t want Brendan Loughnane!). Since then, lethal KO artist Puna has scored just three knockouts…but in the four fights he hasn’t, he’s looked like absolute shit. Getting schooled on the feet by Dustin Stoltzfus and Brendan Allen is a really bad look when you’re being advertised as a striker…and losing a decision to Nick Maximov isn’t a good look either!
To their credit, this fight against Miguel Baeza is a genius pairing by the UFC matchmakers though, because Baeza’s career has kind of panned out the same as Soriano’s. A hard hitting DWCS graduate, Baeza got off to a decent start with three consecutive finishes, most notably against Matt Brown. He stepped up the level of competition to face Santiago Ponzinibbio, which resulted in a life and death decision that he narrowly lost. Unfortunately, the losses snowballed dramatically as he was later KO’d by Khaos Williams and Andre Fialho. The latter result the most shocking, given that Fialho is dogshit. Baeza has since taken two years off…and everyone forgot he existed.
Apologies for taking two massive paragraphs to give you both men’s life stories, but it really does paint the picture of this fight from a betting perspective. Both men are overhyped KO artists - with one lacking in durability, and the other lacking in brain cells.
Puna is probably more likely to walk away with the KO win due to Baeza’s declining durability, but he’s also the more likely to get out-struck and styled on if this one turns into a longer distanced fight. Who wins that kind of fight? I have absolutely no idea. I’m just glad that one guy gets to stick around after this fight is over, because I’d be keen to fade both guys in the future.
I have little confidence so it counts for nothing, but I’ll pick Baeza simply because I like to fade finish-reliant fighters, and Miguel seems to be the more technical. His leg kick should work nicely here.
How I line this fight: Punahele Soriano +125 (45%), Miguel Baeza -125 (55%)
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: None

~Raul Rosas Jr. vs Ricky Turcios~
I’ve copy/pasted my breakdown for this fight from the UFC Mexico event, and made some updated changes:
I’m still pretty gassed about hitting the fade on Raul Rosas Jr with Christian Rodriguez – definitely one of my favourite bets of 2023. I saw an untested 18 year old that was the beneficiary the UFC hype machine, and a then unknown opponent who had proven tricky to beat with the style Rosas Jr has. I saw it as a pick’em, and Rodriguez was +200. Easy bet to make.
In that fight, Rosas Jr kind of cardio-dumped and gave up once it was obvious that early finish wasn’t going to present itself, and that’s certainly a concern until we see him fight competently for 15 minutes at this level. I can think of countless UFC hype trains that hid their shocking minute winning ability behind dominant and exciting R1 finishes (Edmen Shahbazyan was my initial example, but since writing this Joe Pyfer has given another great recent example), and I therefore simply cannot trust Raul Rosas at this stage in his career when he’s still going to be sitting at -250 on the betting line due to his popularity.
Is Ricky Turcios worth the gamble as an underdog? I don’t really think so. He has been taken down seven and six times in two different UFC fights, has losses to Aimann Zahabi and Boston Salmon, and his wins were against Kevin Natividad and Brady Hiestand…which were both splits. The UFC are clearly treating this as a lay-up fight for Rosas Jr, but without feeding him a promotional newcomer or a fellow inexperienced guy. I don’t mean lay-up as if it’s a squash match, but it’s assumed that he SHOULD win here, instead of them throwing him to the wolves or making him go up against a fellow serious prospect.
Stylistically this one all revolves around the cardio for me, because I don’t think Turcios has what it takes to win this fight off the merit of his own skillset. He needs Rosas Jr. to gas out first, if he’s going to have any hope of having his way here. We have no way of knowing whether or not Rosas will gas, as it could have just been a one off and he’s so young that he could make the improvements quickly.
Personally, I’d be willing to give Rosas Jr the benefit of the doubt. The Rodriguez loss really should have opened his eyes, and it’s often the best thing for a young prospect to get that wake up call sometimes, as he was probably starting to believe his own hype. If the cardio is fixable, I assume he’s done all he can to fix it. He therefore deserves to be the favourite, but I won’t be betting on it.
How I line this fight: Raul Rosas Jr -200 (67%), Ricky Turcios +200 (33%)
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: I was originally going to bet the Over 2.5 rounds, but I’ll pass on that now.

~Eduarda Moura v Denise Gomes~
Eduarda Moura’s UFC debut did not impress me at all. I didn’t bother researching her regional footage, and from what I saw in that debut she’s a size/weight bully that isn’t even that amazing at what she does. Yes she outgrappled and mauled that Mexican woman, but the size difference was comical and she couldn’t have found an easier opponent to beat if she tried.
I had one of my best bets of 2023 on Denise Gomes’ last fight against Angela Hill (big up Angie for winning a couple of weeks ago, she’s such a money train for me), opting to fade the scary finishing ability of a WMMA fighter for a more technical and historically durable veteran on the return. Not only did Angie school her, she even managed to mix in some grappling to make the win even more stylish. That gets the alarm bells ringing here, as Moura’s MO is definitely to grapple, and Angie’s no grappler.
I don’t have a strong opinion on this one, because both women give me very strong fraud vibes. I think Moura is absolutely going to be one to fade in the future, and Gomes has already been faded in the past. Personally I don’t think the equally limited Denise Gomes is the woman to give Moura her first L, because stylistically this looks like a tricky fight for her. Fingers crossed Moura wins and the fade opportunity is live next time. It’s an easy pass for me.
How I line this fight: No idea, they’re both frauds
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: None

~Puja Tomar v Rayanne Amanda (dos Santos)~
Some people believe in the narrative that you should try and fade Indian fighters. That worked pretty well last time Jeka Sarragih fought!
I bet on Rayanne dos Santos in her UFC debut, and she lost a split to an inexperienced opponent with bad cardio. I was impressed with her striking in Invicta, but she struggled to do anything meaningful stuff in that UFC debut. By the looks of the early line I’m seeing, she’s about -180 here. Who the hell is going to bet that!?
I obviously know nothing about Puja, but her record shows she’s fought two serious opponents. You know I love WMMA more than anyone else, but I have absolutely no interest in doing tape for this one. Pass.
How I line this fight: No idea
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: None

~Cody Stamann v Taylor Lapilus~
Very disappointed by the betting line here. When a fight like this gets announced, I immediately get excited because I think there’s a chance the books might get caught out and give a very bettable price on a fight that seems close on paper, but should be quite one-sided in reality, due to the stylistics.
Taylor Lapilus deserves to be -200 here, maybe even steeper. Reason being, he’s great where Stamann is average, but he’s also good where Stamann is good. The Frenchman is a slick striker that should certainly be expected to land the more eye-catching shots, when compared to Stamann’s T-Rex boxing. He will enjoy a 9-inch reach advantage, and should just be able to hit and not get hit. Stamann barely has any power either, so even if he does land a punch for every two he absorbs, I doubt it’s going to do much to convince the judges to credit him as the round winner.
Cody Stamann has veered away from his wrestling roots in recent fights, but you’d think it would serve him well here, given the reach and technical disadvantage he will find himself at. Whilst this would be true against another opponent, Taylor Lapilus has a very good anti-grappling game. His takedown defence is good, but even when he does get floored he works hard and effectively to get back to his feet, or at the very least nullify his opponent. His most recent fight was an exception to that as Farid Basharat made light work of him…but that was a very impressive performance that I don’t think many could replicate.
So in summary, I think Stamann is going to be shut out here, and I don’t think he’s going to really be able to find success anywhere in this fight. He will either stand at distance and clearly get outstruck by the fighter with the better footwork that will keep him at range…or he attempts to wrestle and likely has little luck at finding any real success. At the very least, the success he does have probably won’t be enough to erase the striking deficit he’s already accrued.
On a more narrative based note, Stamann also appears to have regressed a fair bit in recent years. He was once a gatekeeper to the top 15, drawing with the likes of Song Yadong and even winning a round against Merab…but since then losing decisions to 37-year-old Douglas Silva de Andrade and winning questionable decisions against Luan Lacerda. I’d say this is a tricky fight for Stamann in his prime, but Cody’s trending downwards too.
As I said in the opening paragraph, I’m disappointed that the books didn’t offer a better price on Lapilus, and I’m interested to see if money comes in on Cody still. Personally I’d be happy to bet Lapilus at -175 or better, but I’d need the line to improve slightly before I could play it. I might parlay him with someone on next week’s card once I get further down the line researching it.
How I line this fight: Cody Stamann +225 (31%), Taylor Lapilus -225 (69%)
Bet or pass: No bet, for now.
Prop leans: None

~Brad Katona v Jesse Butler~
The less time spent talking about this one, the better. Brad Katona is possibly the least intimidating MMA fighter to have ever graced the UFC, both in the way he fights, and his demeanour. The former is more important, because he can sometimes struggle to win rounds because he’s outgunned most of the time. He needs to put on a perfect defensive display to win striking fights, because if he gets wobbled he probably can’t get the round back.
Jesse Butler is a can with about as much of a right to be on the UFC’s roster as I do. He has no striking ability, as seen in his 23 second KO MASSACRE at the hands of 40-year-old Jim Miller (one of my favourite KOs of 2023 that one, definitely recommend if you didn’t see it!). That lack of striking ability, both offensively and defensively, means that he is very unlikely to get the better of a good point fighter like Brad Katona. But everyone has a puncher’s chance.
Katona is nearly -600 here. Mostly justified, but also eye-wateringly steep at the exact same time when you consider Katona’s path to victory is almost exclusively by decision! Pass.
How I line this fight: Brad Katona -400 (80%), Jesse Butler +400 (20%)
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: Me to fall asleep watching this one (+200 or better)

~Ludovit Klein v Thiago Moises~
Two guys I have historically had a very tricky time analysing. I was high on Klein when he made his debut, then I turned my back on him after the losses to Trizano and Landwehr – and since then he’s been pulling off upsets and continuing to prove he was worth the hype he entered the UFC with. The dude has some of the best high kicks I’ve ever seen from a fighter.
Thiago Moises has always been credentialed and talented, but he’s failed to deliver on the promises his abilities make on paper. Moises is capable of taking fighters down and submitting them early, but it’s genuinely taken nine UFC fights for him to actually go out there and do that. And then he did it twice in a row (against Giagos and Melq Costa).
So I think that does a good job of explaining why I am going to be non-committal and just leave this fight alone. Klein is great when he’s on form, but he’s shown himself to be capable of dropping the ball in fights he really should win. He’s proven himself to be a guy that you back as an underdog, but avoid as a favourite. He’s barely either here, but he does have a minus next to his name.
Moises is also too inconsistent to trust either. I think there’s a chance that this could be a winnable fight for him, as his grappling will definitely be superior if he can force things to the floor. That sounds like a great opportunity for a +100 fighter…but Moises definitely won’t look that number if he decides to stand and trade – and his 1.64 takedowns landed per 15 minutes statistic is enough to assume he won’t.
The oddsmakers are right in lining this one close, because both men have very legitimate paths to victory with only a few small factors landing in their favour. I’d argue that Klein is the rightful favourite (and therefore my pick) due to all fights starting standing and Moises’ track record…but this is a close one.
How I line this fight: Ludovit Klein -125 (55%), Thiago Moises +125 (45%)
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: None

~Charles Radtke v Carlos Prates~
If you’re a regular reader of my posts, you may know that historically I am someone who genuinely thinks Trevin Giles has some redeeming qualities. In fact, I claimed in his recent fight against Carlos Prates that the line was wide, and that Giles may be able to find a way to have some success. Having watched that fight back, I think I was justified to feel that way.
I liked what I saw from Prates on DWCS, with the way he mixed up volume, pressure and power…but ultimately that performance against Giles was a bit concerning. He definitely lost round one, and by the end of the fight he was outstruck almost two to one. Of course, he won via KO…but to expect a fighter to be bailed out by their raw power every time is a bit foolish.
Charles Radtke is ironically a fighter I’ve had nothing but bad things to say about. I slated his debut win against Mike Mathetha (the artist formally known as Blood Diamond), and tried to fade him when he faced Gilbert Urbina. Boy did he look great in that sophomore appearance, I was really impressed. His striking just seemed so tight, accurate and crisp, I couldn’t believe how easily he pieced up Urbina.
I’m obviously not super confident in my analysis here, simply due to the lack of tape we have on both guys…but I don’t really understand what we are supposed to have seen from Prates to justify a -200 pricetag? He was struggling against Giles, and had he not landed the precise punch that ended things…he could easily have lost that one! I get that he has a big size advantage…but Urbina was taller and Radtke approached the striking gameplan perfectly. He also has Belal Muhammad in his corner (or at least he did vs Urbina), who I rate as a pretty intelligent fighter.
This one feel like it could develop into a very competitive fight, and the finishing ability is strong on either side. Radtke has also shown a diverse game and an ability to mix in grappling when necessary, which could serve him well here. For those reasons, I’m happy to roll the dice on yet another underdog here, and back Charles Radtke for 1u at +150 or better. I’ll be waiting a little bit to see what the initial line movement does.
How I line this fight: Charles Radtke +100 (50%), Carlos Prates +100 (50%)
Bet or pass: 1u Charles Radtke to Win (+150 or better)
Prop leans: None

~Daniel Marcos v John Castaneda~
I’m quite high on Daniel Marcos. I just think he’s a really talented striker. I bet him heavily against Aoriqileng, and were it not for the unfortunate NC, I think that would have looked like a really smart bet (not the only time that’s even happened to me this year…thanks Piera Rodriguez). People still hate on him for potentially getting a robbery over Davey Grant…but Grant is a very tricky guy to look good against at the best of times. The likes of Jonathan Martinez, Adrian Yanez, and even Marlon Vera have all struggled to decisively beat Davey.
John Castaneda is certainly the more well-rounded martial artist here, as the way he’s mixed takedowns into his game has been really intelligent. He’s also shown much more dangerousness than Marcos, landing a knockdown in four of his six UFC performances, and even scoring a submission win over Miles Johns.
For as long as this one stays standing, I think it’s a close fight that’s hard to call. Whilst I give a slight minute winning edge to Marcos for his higher level of technicality to his striking, I think Castaneda’s power can be a great equaliser, as can his ability to mix in takedowns. I’ve not seen much of Marcos’ anti-grappling to believe he can fend off a takedown threat if Castaneda wants to force things there.
So yeah, a non-committal breakdown but I think this is a close fight to call. There certainly isn’t any betting value to a fight this close anyway. I’ll pick Castaneda and give him the slight edge on the betting line for his diversity and finishing upside.
How I line this fight: John Castaneda -125 (55%), Daniel Marcos +125 (45%)
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: None

~Andrea Lee v Montana De La Rosa~
It’s always tricky to navigate the fade when you see a fighter with a glaring deficiency that keeps taking losses. Andrea Lee is on a sharp downwards slope – she’s 35 years old, she cannot stop takedowns, and she’s got a 3-7 record in decisions in the UFC. Those are some pretty damning facts, but what’s worse is that Lee’s decline is really showing in her performances. I confidently bet Miranda Maverick against her at near pick’em due to her grappling superiority, but I was very surprised to see Maverick actually clearly outrstriking Lee across 15 minutes. That was a terrible look because Maverick’s striking really has never looked good. That should not have happened.
The reason I began by saying that it’s difficult fading a fighter in Lee’s position, is because there comes a time where the calibre of opponent clearly takes a downwards step. I’ve always been a big believer in Miranda Maverick, and I believe she’s top 10 in the division, so trusting her to feast on Andrea Lee’s carcass was easy. This time however, we’re being asked to trust Montana De La Rosa, a clearly inferior fighter, to do the same. Historically, Lee is certainly a cut above her, and Lee’s 30-27 victory over MDLR in 2019 demonstrated that perfectly.
Montana’s not bad bad, she’s just lacking in physicality to really be able to get her game going. She’s definitely a grappler, but a 31% takedown accuracy and poor top control means that she struggles to really find openings to do her best work...so she just kind of survives in fights if she can’t grapple you. Just looking through her UFC fights and it’s so obvious where her calibre lies…none of the girls she’s beaten apart from Ariane Lipski have been in the UFC for years, and even some of the names she’s beaten aren’t super elite either. And back when she fought Lipski, the Brazilian had some of the worst anti-grappling we’d seen in WMMA.
So this is clearly one of those fights where my predictions and probabilities for the fight weigh more on how either woman loses, as opposed to how they win. Right off the bat, that’s an awful premise to be considering a bet, so I can easily tell you this is one to avoid…and I haven’t even looked at the betting line yet.
Yep, Andrea lee sits around -130. I expected exactly that, as it’s a coin-toss as to which woman is inferior, but history is worth something and Lee does have a win over her opponent here. I guess Andrea Lee is the pick because MDLR already landed five takedowns the first time and did fuck all with them, but I have little to no confidence here. I’m sure no one is even reading this far into the breakdown because no one even cares about WMMA like I do. It’s a pass. I'll keep an eye out for Lee by Decision, assuming it's around the +200 mark.
How I line this fight: Andrea Lee -150 (60%), Montana De La Rosa +150 (40%)
Bet or pass: Pass
Prop leans: None

Bets (Bold = been placed)
1u Jared Cannonier to Win (+100 or better)
1u Jacoby v Reyes Over 1.5 Rounds (+150 or better….I could be way off the mark there)
1u Julian Marquez to Win (+100)
1u Charles Radtke to Win (+150 or better)
1u Andrea Lee to Win by Decision (+200 or better...might not get anywhere near that number, idk)

Parlay Pieces: Julian Marquez, Taylor Lapilus
Dog of the Week: Jared Cannonier
Picks: Jared Cannonier, Dustin Jacoby, Julian Marquez, Dustin Stoltzfus, Miguel Baeza, Raul Rosas Jr, Denise Gomes, Taylor Lapilus, Brad Katona, Moises/Klein, Radtke/Prates, Marcos/Castaneda, Andrea Lee

I 26 f moved in with my boyfriend 23 m back in February. It is now June and I am having physical symptoms of stress & depression, that’s how bad it got.
He has his older brother 29 & little brother 17 also living here, (I was unaware when I was moving in, he just said they stay “sometimes”) and they sleep on the living room floor. All three of them are nasty!

 They finish a bottle of water, and throw the bottles to the side. There is a collection of juice & soda bottles in the living room. They barely drink water anyways, only if I BUY IT & they decide to help themselves. 

There was no garbage can when I moved in. They would just plastic bags from their store runs or take out food.
They leave crumbs on the kitchen counter. All over the floor. It is like there is absolutely no awareness & no care.
They leave toilet seat up. And sometimes there’s a “dust” left over on the toilet seat from someone dirty & sweaty sitting down.
The little brother will leave food out & hide it. You tell him don’t do it, he smiles and says okay. Later that night, there’s something else left out.
The house has a real heavy smell of funk. It either smells just dirty, or like the little brother’s extremely strong & pungent body odor. & I mean, the WHOLE house. Except the bedroom because I usually make sure the door is closed.
My boyfriend will bite his nails & spit it on the floor, so there’s bitten fingernails on the floor. I have a bad nail biting habit as well, but mine go in the trash!!
The older brother has a body-scrubby thing in the shower and it’s literally black. Why is your body that dirty & why do you not feel the need to wash it out. Just showcase it in everyone’s face in the shower. Once again, I think I’m the only one that is bothered.
I don’t want to keep my toothbrush or loofah in shower anymore. Can’t help but think of the dirty water bouncing off of their bodies (that they don’t properly clean just like their environment) on to my intimate hygienic items.
There is absolutely no consideration for the next person!! Or no shame, embarrassment. Nothing.
I buy a box of little bites from the grocery store (very expensive, like 7$ for 5 bags) & my boyfriend wants to eat 3 bags back to back. He can be very glutton, and I try to express we are on a fixed income with government assistance. He knows this, because he’s the only one working right now! You would think he’d be more mindful of the little money he works so hard for.
Boyfriend is also very inconsistent, just quit his 4th job in a matter of 6 months.
Older brother works multiple jobs & does not contribute shit. Does not even offer to take the garbage out. It’s like he can’t be bothered with nothing pertaining to the household, but this is where he comfortably lays his head. I sarcastically joked to my boyfriend he should just make his older brother a copy of the keys since he always has our set of keys & inconveniences us, & he actually did! Despite claiming it was only temporary.
The other brothers will sneak MY food and drinks in the night. They don’t even ask, just sneak.
I don’t want to eat out of the kitchen. I feel like every surface is contaminated.
I feel like anyone would be upset. I left my 1 bedroom apartment for this. I lived by myself, it was beautiful, nicely decorated, and always smelled great. I am at my wits end with heart pains, fainting spells, & stomach aches as soon as I open my eyes.
And my bf never sees a problem unless I say something, and even then results are very temporary. All of them are very comfortable in dirt. Yuck.
Then, when boyfriend does clean it is not proper. If he sweeps, I have to come sweep behind him & I end up with a bigger pile of dirt than he originally did, thinking he just fully cleaned!
I do little basic things for my sanity, but I refuse to clean up after 3 grown dirty men with horrid cleaning standards.
Sorry for the extremely long post, I am at a breaking point.

Sunday, May 26 - Saturday, June 01, 2024

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301	63 comments	[article] 30 feminist organizations protested the creation of a foundation to help male victims of domestic violence in Valencia, Spain
186	38 comments	[misandry] Misandry DOES Kill
172	30 comments	[double standards] Throwing Men under the Bus
168	29 comments	[discussion] I keep hearing people say that men are generally only allowed to express anger, but in my life I’ve never even seen that allowed.
166	103 comments	[discussion] "Men's forcefully drafting was done by men so we (women) aren't at fault"
163	74 comments	[social issues] "Men are the problem"
161	71 comments	[discussion] Found this subreddit after getting banned from SelfAwareWolves. Am I in the right place?
114	35 comments	[discussion] Refuting "by other men"
108	12 comments	[media] Asa baber in the 90s predicting the future. And showing the struggle of being a male advocate in society.
99	9 comments	[article] Survivors say Russia is waging a war of sexual violence in occupied areas of Ukraine. Men are often the victims.

 

Top 10 Comments

score	comment
129	Updawg145 said I've always thought it was hilarious that people seem to think all men are in some fraternity together. Men are brutally cutthroat and merciless towards one another, especially when it comes to the re...
122	SomeSugondeseGuy said It's simplifying a complex issue. Yeah sure, it was caused by people who happen to be men, but those people are also rich and powerful - which has much more of an effect on their ability to do that th...
111	Eaglingonthemoor said My perception here might just be due the fact that this is when I started actively engaging with the subject, but I feel like man vs bear was a bit of a splitting point for the rise of both opinions. ...
111	NiceTraining7671 said Three things: - Men are the ones who actually challenge the draft in court. Look during WW1, WW2, the Cold War era…it was mostly men who challenged the legality of the draft. - Women have been comp...
104	testamentfan67 said Seriously what goes through these idiots heads? “I hate helping people less fortunate than me and if ANYONE else does, I’m going to stop them!” Where else have we seen this before??
100	flaumo said Yes, of course they exist. My partner is a feminist and fully acknowledges mens disadvantages in education and mental health. She is also compassionate with male victims of sexual violence. She also ...
96	DownwindLegday said >From 1875 to 2004 and statistically examined gender differences in military aggression. They found that 36% of the female leaders initiated at least one militarized dispute, while only 30% of male le...
91	Dashing2026 said The idea of promoting women to being of equal physical strength to men creates an interesting double standard: women are lauded in the style of lipstick feminism, where their beauty and fashion begets...
88	henrysmyagent said Ukraine is a perfect microcosm of the inconsistency inherent in feminism. Women are the equals of men...until the start bombs dropping. Did the Ukrainian women of military age sign up to defend thei...
83	Foxsayy said Many women I've opened up to have hurt me deeply, often using that information explicitly to hurt me. The men ive known haven't. They've kept my confidence at minimum. I still want more women in my l...

 

I took a week off of work and college had started their two-week break before the next semester. I took my chance and cleared my calendar and booked a trip to the town where my grandfather stayed while he was a journalist. The greyhound ride was a good time for me to figure out my approach, while the busy cityscape outside my window slowly faded into Southern African wilderness, nothing but trees and empty kilometers of road before I reached my stop, a homely town that seemed well connected to the rest despite the distance. It had been many years since my grandfather had set foot in this town, yet I could feel his influence. The roads were now cracked and showed their wear, shops and residences had been renovated and upgraded, looking more modern and slightly out of place.
The hotel my grandfather stayed at while on the investigation was now a more comfortable looking lodge, with a view over the rolling foothills of the Drakensberg and the surrounding cities, one of which I could see my home, vaguely. The sun had begun to set and I still needed to get my information from the residents. I unpacked my things after booking my room and set out, like a tourist with a pen and notebook in hand asking anyone what they may know. To no one’s surprise, they mostly looked at me like I was insane or a knock off Leon Schuster trying to get them to react in a funny way. I had almost given up completely until I sat near one of the social areas where they would light a fire and residents at the lodge would sit and relax while watching the sun go down. I was alone there and just sat drawing the distant landscape dreading the silence for the next week while I waited for the next bus to arrive and I’d return home. Two days passed in mainly silence.
That was until a man sat near me, dressed in weathered jeans and an old top with work boots covered in dust and dirt, his face obscured by a large hat covering his face, his hands in his pockets even as he sat but his arms almost looked skeleton like, his long white hair flowing from either side of his hat.
“Can I help you?” I asked, feeling like he was trying to get my attention.
“No, but I can help you. You cause quite a lot of noise, trying to get the people to talk about something that scares them.” He said, his voice didn’t come across as harsh, more like cautious. The first person who decided to talk to me in a casual manner since a couple days ago. He wanted to tell me what I wanted to know.
Without any hesitation I turned to the page I set aside for notes when the man chuckled.
“Something funny?” I asked.
“You’re going to need more pages than that.” He said, flicking his hat up slightly while he sat back and got comfortable.
“Trust me, this is all I need.” I said feeling like I had to tiptoe around the subject as to not let the opportunity slip, but I also felt overwhelmingly anxious, almost like someone else was watching us. I felt my gaze shift every so often over my shoulder trying to find the entity that was staring a hole through me, apart from a quiet street crossing and some pedestrians; nothing.
“Something there?” Asked the man, as I shook off the feeling. I started getting a bit annoyed by the short answers and questions.
“Just feel like-, never mind. If you’re ready to help give me some information, what should I call you?” I asked as the man took a moment.
“Call me ‘Farmhand’. Since it’ll sound better than my real name, you’ll find that out in time.” Said Farmhand as I wrote that down in my notebook and began phrasing the question in my mind as to get the proper answer. Furiously tapping my pen on the page.
“Just ask, I already know what you want to know.” He said, I looked up from the page, slightly irritated by the confidence.
“How can you be so sure, Farmhand?” I blurted.
“You aren’t the first person to go on this goose chase. The Lady in White is very particular in her targets.” Farmhand explained, I wrote down everything.
“What’s her story, like the true story; why does she haunt this stretch of road?” I asked. Farmhand chuckled.
“She doesn’t haunt, she’s simply looking for a lift.” He said in the distinct Afrikaans twang that so many white South Africans have, it’s by no means ominous, more of a conversation encouragement than anything else.
“A lift? To where?” I asked. I heard so many different types of tales, from her being hostile to men, a companion to young women and a bit of both to younger males. But the main part that stayed the same was that they were alone.
“Her matric dance, my seun.” Farmhand said, the only other person to call me ‘Seun’ was my dad, the Afrikaans for son.
“What exactly happened?” I asked, pen at the ready.
“The legend goes far back, but the main story that my pa always told me was that she was with her boyfriend in the car, they went along this road and broke down; one of the worst places to break down since around eight is when the busses shut down and the last train has departed from the station. She chose to try down the street, bearing in mind how dangerous that is these days, it was a little bit less so then.” Farmhand said as he took off his hat, keeping his gaze at the setting sun.
“How much less dangerous?” I asked.
“Snakes, though the venomous Boomslang doesn’t go out of its way to kill you, no Black Mamba’s live up here. No, we have jackals and caracals, they hunt in packs and pick you off in the dead of night.” Farmhand explained.
“Is that how it happened, how she died?” Farmhand chuckled lightly.
“Nope, she saw a car in the distance and flagged them down, asked them to help take her to town or help her boyfriend. The man took her up the road and when they started to approach where she had broken down, the boyfriend tried flagging them down. Her joy turned to terror as the stranger sped up and before the boyfriend knew it, the car had hit him. The last she saw of him was him tumbling down the hill among the trees.” Farmhand said. Placing his hat on his chest, closing his eyes and bowing his head. After a short silence, I asked:
“What happened next?”
“Well, the girl was hysterical, the car was still speeding up and she yelled at the man to stop, and kept pleading for him to let her go. Eventually the man had stopped, the girl got out and started calling to the boyfriend to see if he had somehow survived, as she did, the stranger hit her on the back of her head and had his way with her.” Farmhand said, provoking a sour taste in my mouth, a sheer sense of guilt welled up in my stomach.
“Now I understand why no one was willing to tell me the story.” I said, slightly defeated. The man put a hand on my knee like my grandfather used to and looked me in the eye. For the first time I noticed his wrinkled but kind face, he smiled.
“It’s not a story everyone can stomach. Come, let’s finish this so you can write your story.” Farmhand said as he sat back on the couch, a thought struck me; was I so obvious that he knew I was a journalist writing a story? Because I don’t remember ever disclosing the fact I was a journalist. Regardless, we continued.
“After the stranger- did the act, what happened?” I asked uneasily, feeling sick to my stomach.
“He put her in his car, and drove back to the spot where they broke down, but a half a kilometer away she woke up and he pushed her out of the car at high speed. She should’ve died there, but she crawled, half her body scratched, scraped and broken. She died slowly and alone. Before she died she heard her boyfriend calling for her.” Farmhand continued.
“Did he ever find her?”
There was silence, even the birds had stopped chirping and the street had gone quiet.
“No, I don’t believe he did. Whether or not he died looking is another story, but that’s not what you’re here for.” The Farmer said as he stood up, placed his hat on his head and began to walk off, before he passed me, he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.
“Promise me one thing; be careful. Can you do that for me, Alex?” Farmhand said before he patted me on the shoulder and walked off without waiting for my answer. I turned to confront him but he was gone, it couldn’t have been more than a second, but it was like he vanished into thin air. I was left confused and bewildered. The notes were real, the pen marks solid and clear. The events I was informed of felt vivid, yet the silence that fell around me felt otherworldly. I was feeling lost and exhausted before, now I was more awake than I had ever been.
Around eight that night, the sun had set and the mountain had cast a chilling shadow over the down I stayed, sleet had been reported near us and snow on the mountain. If I was going to get the answer I so desperately wanted, I was going to have to earn it. I walked to my car, steam cascading from my nostrils as the cold air turned frigid with even the slightest of breezes. I got in my car and drove to the first rest point along the mountain to gather some supplies: Some water and snacks, a couple of pre-charged battery packs for my recorder as I don’t want to stop every fifteen to twenty minutes to write down my experience. This would also prove if I was going insane or not, when asked by a couple of the staff at the store, I told them my intentions and they sounded interested for the first time. When I left I tested the packs and sure enough; fully charged and my recorder was clean and ready to be used.
I approached the entrance to the mountain pass that had been the setting for this ghost story that has latched on to me since childhood. No street lamps, no signs, yet the road itself was painted brightly and every so often a glowing marker was placed to ensure you knew when to turn and when to slow down. The threshold felt like a portal, the point where light didn’t reach and would not pass, even down to the road, where it was light, it looked traveled on, occupied and used; the mountain pass looked pristine; almost as if it hadn’t been touched for decades. As I looked beyond the pass, far below what was called the foothills of the Drakensberg, a large highway was built, the lights from the cars, the lamps and signs glowed for kilometers in the distance. After delaying for twenty minutes, I turned my car on, flicked on the high-beams and began my journey.
Every few minutes I would check my recorder, to make sure it was on and still functioning, it lay on the passenger seat in plain view, I could see some bright lights giving me the information if the screen was somehow obscured. It was a long while before anything happened. Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was anxiety, whatever it was wouldn’t stop me from exploring this legend. Worst thing that could happen is I travel sixty kilometers and nothing happens and it turns out my grandfather was just trying to scare me. I turned again after a lengthy passage of time and I got my answer.
I don’t remember stopping, I don’t even think I saw anyone on the side of the road, maybe it was while I was looking at my recorder, but I felt a cold presence behind me.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Asked a voice, a quiet but feminine voice. A chill erupted throughout my body; a violent sense of panic coursed through my mind because I knew where the sound came from. It came from behind me. My hands began to shake but I dared not take my hands away from the wheel.
“Do you?” It asked again. The answer got caught in my throat, I found myself unable to speak.
“No, not really.” I managed though my voice felt hoarse.
“You seem to know what you want.” The voice said again, it sounded curious. I stayed silent, the road twisted and wound around the mountain in a chaotic and frantic fashion.
“Are you scared?” She asked again, the voice coming from next to me. I turned to look but a cold hand kept my eyes glued to the road.
“Keep your eyes on the road, enough people have died here.” She said, as my nerves calmed slightly.
“Who are you?” I asked, my eyes focused and the world around me much less than an echo.
“Why do you want to know?” She asked, sounding more like she was in a void, her voice had more of an echo than anything else.
“I want to know what happened here. The true story.” I said after taking a breath and gathering my nerves, the road seemed to calm down, from sharp uphill turns to moonlight sweeping curves that allowed my gaze to rest as the shadow of the trees passed us by.
“Can I trust you?” She asked, the question rang through my head as I remember what Farmhand said, how she trusted a stranger who took advantage of her.
“Yes. Yes you can.” I said after a while. The figure turned to me; I could feel her eyes scrutinize every inch of me.
“You’re not like him?” Her questions kept hammering into me, I felt a mix of fear and guilt, knowing who she was referring to.
“I won’t hurt you. I want to help.” I said after a while, gathering a fragile sense of courage as my hands shook furiously. The road seemed to twist and turn, harsh rising hills. Sharp corners told the tale of her many victims as my headlights passed by, the scrapes and dents of hard hits leading to a drop that seemed to have no end, not a single tree could be seen and the moonlight from high above could not pierce the dark veil that lingered joust over the edge of the road. After a while, she spoke again.
“Alright, I trust you.” She said as I allowed my eyes to wander, the figure relaxed in the passenger seat for a while, my recorder on the center console as I saw her blue skin, almost emitting a frozen chill as I saw her dress, torn and tattered, my stomach felt uneasy when I saw bruising and swelling near her inner thighs. Her hands crossed in her lap as I saw the scratches and what looked like deep cuts on her arms and exposed shoulders from the straps on her dress. I could not see much of her face as it seemed her face was bleeding.
“What happened that night?” I asked, concentrating on the road again. My passenger stayed quiet for a while, quietly shuddering and sniffing before she spoke again.
“I was happy, a man I loved decided I would be his date for the matric dance. We’d known each other since we were children. My best friend. We were driving along this road to get to the lodge, where the dance was being held.” Her voice sounded sourly-joyful, her hands didn’t move from her lap much, so as to not distract me with her hand movements.
“It was a while before town, the car started shaking. I thought the tire had blown, but smoke came from the front. We stopped nearby.” She pointed and I could see the flashing of hazard lights and the smell of smoke invaded my nostrils.
“I thought I’d get some help, he said he’d be fine and that I should hurry back. I walked for a while; it was a cold night still. I walked for, I don’t know how long. But I managed to get an old man to stop. He said he’d help; we just need to get my man and he’d sort out the car.” She said as the road began to crack and fall apart at the edge.
“Do you know what he did?” She asked me, I assumed it was a test to see if I was listening.
“He deceived you.” I answered. She nodded, looking down for a short while before continuing.
“He asked why I was alone on this road. I told him I wasn’t, that I was on my way to town with my man, and I told him about who he was, what he meant to me. I was overjoyed when I saw him, my joy turned to confusion, to horror as he sped up and ran him over. I saw his body roll into the trees, I thought for sure he was dead.” She pointed to the part of the road that had a piece of cloth swaying in the breeze, marking where her man was hit and last seen by her.
“After I witnessed my childhood innocence be ripped from me, he finally stopped, that butcher! I blacked out with a sharp pain, when next I woke, I couldn't feel my legs and my fingers were numb. Just before I said anything, he pushed me out of his car. I remember falling, the road was like ice, all I could do was crawl.” She said, her anger translating to the road shifting and breaking apart, turning violently uphill only for the sheer drops and sharp turns that threatened to throw me off the edge. I barely managed to keep the car on the road as the road shifted again, it was so silent that I could hear the tires screeching like a distant wail.
“I’ve searched for years, if he’d ever return, I’d make sure he never left like he left me.” She said as the note my grandfather left in his books, the man who was panicked and sketchy, had his autopsy reveal that he was of the elderly group. I felt a slight pang of guilt as I realized that the man who did this to her was probably dead for a while. I weathered her storm of rage as the stretch of road became calm, as did she.
“I’m sorry you suffered like that; I wish there was something I could do.” I said unconsciously. I felt her gaze soften to me; her rage calmed as she went back to her neutral position.
“He was called ‘Farmhand. Because he was trustworthy, kind and reliable..” My eyes widened as the realization crashed on my face: He lived.
“If you aren’t like how he was, then you don’t deserve to leave this road.” Her voice was harsh, the road began to fall apart, the cracks forming as parts fell away like they had been falling apart for years, though my body was fatigued, I kept the car on the road. As uncomfortable as the ride was, the road soon turned into dirt paths, completely unlit and unpredictable. It felt like hours before it returned to normal, albeit slowly, my hands still shook relentlessly. I understood her outrage. I couldn’t imagine the trauma she experienced, the sadness.
“If you would like, I can take you back to town.” I asked. In retrospect, that was a stupid question.
“I don’t know.” She replied, unsure and confused.
“No rush, we have time.” I said as I turned around and began my long drive back to town. The road swerved and waved calmly, completely different to the approach. I drove to the point where The Lady in White was last seen, after a while I parked my car near the spot and looked to my side. The woman wasn’t there. I looked at my watch and my recorder. The sun had begun to rise over the hills, the air was crisp and fresh, I stayed for a while to just take in the sight of a calm morning before turning my recorder off and driving back.
I returned to my hotel room and after placing everything on the desk, I fell onto my bed and fell asleep, my body was exhausted and my mind was fatigued beyond words. I fell into a dreamless sleep and woke up in the afternoon. Having something to eat I went over the events from last night, pen and paper at the ready, I prepared to hear myself talking to nothing and no one. The doubt set in before I even hit the play button, after a while of convincing myself that I have some concrete evidence, I pressed play. To my surprise, it sounded like there were two people in the car, me and a woman, although the woman’s voice was covered by static. I wrote down all I could, that is what you’re reading.
The next couple of days went by and nothing special happened, I kept to myself most of the time. While analyzing everything I captured. It all seemed like a dream, an incredibly vivid dream. The last note I made during this investigation was: if something like that exists here, surely more stories remain in this part of the world. As the trees faded into the distance as the bus trundled along the trail back, the forest retreating as I returned back to the concrete and steel, it wasn’t long before the questions I had before, followed me home.

Firstly I want to say: I work in the tattoo industry and have been in the "alternative" scene for years, so my opinion isn't really helpful lol
I (29f) recently got a tattoo by an artist (mid/end 30s?m) alone in the studio. I have had two other sessions with this artist, in one he actually tattooed my pubic area while three other dudes were in the studio, but with panels separating us from them. I was comfortable with all of them, because they are chill dudes and never gave me the ick ever.
We were chatting a lot, we get along well. We came to the topic of "women getting tattooed", I myself only have been tattooed by men, bc I like stark blackwork and not typically "female" designs. I am comfortable with my tattoo artists, but I vet them beforehand and am used to the scene.
He asked me, what he can do to make the studio space more comfortable to women, he rarely tattoos women even tho he also has beautiful stereotypical female designs. He is a really lovely guy, but he's also really tall, bulky and black, which he says he knows intimidates women. So I'm forwarding that question to you.
Do you want a tattoo but never got the nerve to enter a studio? Have you been scared/uncomfortable by an artist? What do you look for in a studio? How would you like your session to go? How would you like to approach a new studio/artist? What is important to you?
I have heard from many women that they are uncomfortable in studios with men, I have been the "plus one" when first going into a studio or even while getting the tattoo. I'm really interested if you think something can be done about this, to make women feel more comfortable with getting tattooed, besides changing the gender of the artist.

Waldo could feel the tension in his body. He hated breaches. He used to be a general in the armada. Waldo had not figured out exactly what happened but in a few weeks leadership had changed all across the galaxy. Waldo had sensed something was different and Waldo had changed his identity adding himself to a low level unit while he tried to figure out what had caused the change. However, his contracts slowly disappeared and he was having a hard time cultivating new ones. Waldo had heard the name Bastion a lot in the changeover and Jonah seemed to have fallen off his radar, which Waldo found very distressing. So now he was just a lower level grunt Waldo had to follow orders and keep his identity hidden. That meant he saw lots of action thus why he was on a breaching team. All the prep in the world never made him feel safe on a breach and they had no prep time for this one. Toby slammed the charge on the handle of the Iron door and deftly ran the blasting cord around the frame, in a single smooth motion. Waldo felt Juan tense in front of him as they prepped for entry after the blast. Waldo would be second in on this one having lost the coin toss. Not that he really minded due to the lack of information. Juan would be going right, Waldo had the left, and Brett would be going down the middle. Juan, Waldo, or Brett always led the breaching team; they were their units cowboys. At least, that is what they called themselves. Their lieutenant Frank called them his lovely ladies but everyone was a girl to Frank. Waldo didn’t care about it, Brett would get angry with Frank out of combat, and Juan only ever laughed over it. Waldo was pretty sure Brett was putting up a show as he had caught Brett offering to be a bottom to a guy at a bar three months ago, which had led to him swearing secrecy over it. Waldo found himself smiling as Frank started into it.
“Lovely ladies, Juanita, Betty, and Wilma. Tina is spreading her legs in three.” Frank said loud enough for the breaching team to hear as he raised his hand holding up three fingers starting a countdown to Waldo’s 4th breach of the day. As the door blasted in they moved smoothly forward like a well rehearsed dance. Juan moved through the door into a hallway with Waldo close on his tail. Waldo saw it a second too late as Juan had completely missed the tripwire. Waldo grabbed Juan a hair too slow as Juan’s foot hit the wire tripping whatever the trap was. Waldo felt the magic in the blast before he heard the tremendous roar. Waldo felt himself pushed back by Juan while trying to pull him. Waldo felt certain he had Juan’s pack firmly gripped as he fell back. Suddenly, there was nothing in his hands. The air felt cool and instead of the hot sun beating down he felt a warm glow off to his left.
Waldo rolled to his feet and spun, assessing the room, but everything was wrong. He had lifted his rifle up to sight as he spun but it was missing so instead in the middle of the spin he drew his side arm. However, as he finished his spin his arm fell loosely to his side. Waldo stood in the middle of three empty round tables. In what, he would call the common room of a themed bar or restaurant. He saw humanoid creatures standing near a long wooden bar with 4 patrons seated at it and another dozen or so scattered around the room with more on the two levels above him. Off to the side of a warm glow that Waldo realized there was a fireplace with a fire happily burning in it and there was a stage. Waldo would have loved to hear the music from the group on stage with their odd assortment of instruments but it was at this moment Waldo realized the blast had deafened him. Waldo felt certain no one would attack him, having noticed an odd assortment of humanoids. Waldo saw gnolls, tabaxi, and maybe lizardperson. Waldo holstered his side arm but in looking down he noticed a growing pool of blood at his feet and saw a piece of rebar sticking out of his arm. Waldo saw the enchantments engraved in the rebar and part of him said magic wasn’t real then something else said that humans were the only intelligent race. Waldo pushed those back knowing better. He had seen lots of races and humans were just one of them. Waldo felt more than one voice trying to take control and he pushed back, calming his mind. Waldo attempted to quiet his mind as he was flooded with memories and thoughts he did not recognize as he pushed against them he felt someone or something help him in quieting his mind.
Waldo had not noticed the pain of his injury because of how much adrenaline was pumping through him. Waldo examined the rebar seeing the blood running down his arm. Waldo estimated he had ten minutes before blood loss would start to impact him if it did not clot on its own. Waldo glanced around the room seeing a few gnolls who had noticed him but no one seemed to care and decided he could care for the wound. Waldo grabbed the quick releases on his backpacks shoulder straps letting his bag fall onto a table he positioned behind him. Waldo quickly turned to face the bag and flipped it over so he could easily access it. Waldo grabbed a strap on the pack and deftly released it. Wrapping the loose strap above where the rebar was sticking out of his arm. Waldo smoothly grabbed his folding knife, flicking it open and cutting the sleeve away. Waldo placed the sleeve on the table and checked to see if it was all there or a piece was missing. Waldo grimace realizing a piece of sleeve is probably in his muscle. Waldo flicked the knife closed and placed it next to the sleeve. Waldo pulled out a bottle of water, a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, a healing tonic, and a sealed bandage for once it was clean. Waldo was so focused on what he was doing at the table he had not noticed the small group that had gathered behind him.
“I don’t think he can hear us.” Strisk, a large drake, said, preparing to tap the strange human’s shoulder to get his attention.
“Really, Strisk. You don’t think the guy bleeding on the floor that I shouted at can hear us?” Lydia, the only human in the commons, asked angrily, placing her hands on her hips.
“I think he is going to pull that piece of metal out of his arm.” Kna, the gnollish innkeeper and owner of the establishment, said surprised. Watching Waldo’s back tense as he stretched his arm out to the table. Grabbing the rebar in his other hand.
“Sir! Don’t!” Lydia screamed as Waldo ripped the 4 inch piece of rebar stuck halfway in his arm out.
“Fuck!” Waldo yelled as the piece of metal came free. Waldo looked it over for cloth finding a small piece that he carefully removed from the end of the rebar and placed in the hole of the sleeve and frowning seeing there was still more. Waldo screamed as the onlookers watched him shove his fingers into the hole in skin.
“Strisk, help me stop him.” Lydia said. Grabbing Waldo’s arm. Strisk hesitated. A moment before grabbing Waldo’s other arm.
"Stop! There is more fabric in my arm!” Waldo screamed as the two strangers forced his arms apart. Waldo looked at the sleeve. Unsure if they could even understand him. The strangers released Waldo as he attacked the problem again.
“Aer, go get me water. I will clean this up once he is done” Lydia said, to a gnoll barmaid nearby, deciding to stay next to this stranger.
“I’ll get the mop and some rags to help.” Kna said not wanting to watch anymore and stepping away.
Waldo pulled out a piece of fabric and placed it in the sleeve. Smiling now that he could account for all of the sleeve. Waldo grabbed the water bottle using his teeth to remove the lid and poured it down his arm. Followed by the rubbing alcohol to which he could not help but scream again as it burned.
“That looks bad.” Strisk said, fingering a potion at his hip. Seeing Waldo was prepared to heal the slow way. Strisk was trying to decide whether or not to help the stranger out by giving him the healing potion he carried as a city guard.
Waldo was looking at the hole in his arm knowing it would take time to heal even with the help of the tonic. He estimated it would be a day or two. Waldo looked back at the lizard person standing behind him in armor. Waldo grimaced as he drank the healing tonic. Waldo looked at the only human girl in the commons. Waldo instantly recognized her but could see she did not recognize him. Waldo hated this feeling but took his time looking over her sandy blonde hair and the gentle curves of her face. Waldo let his eyes wander across her chest and down her legs to the floor even though there was not much to see since she wore a high neck dress that was rather plain. Waldo expected she worked here and was not one to take crap from the patrons. However, Waldo knew her face and her shape as just as he remembered her, he did not need her clothes off to tell this. Waldo turned back to the table and opened the bandage and applied it to his arm. “He took his time looking you over.” Strisk said, eying Lydia himself.
“At least, he seems to know not to touch.” Lydia said, without looking at Strisk. She had been rebuffing advances from him and other drakes like him since she took the job. She hated the drakes, which was not unreasonable as they had burned her home to the ground, killed her parents, her betrothed, and enslaved her for five years. Lydia had fled to the nearest city not under drake control once she was freed. Lydia knew that not all drakes are slavers but getting over somethings are easier than others.
“Do you think he can hear us?” Strisk asked, ignoring the jab not wanting to be thrown out by Kna again. Strisk still was fingering the healing potion not having decided on whether or not to offer it. The human seemed to be taking things to remedy his condition. Strisk stood over the two humans by about a foot when he extended to his full height at the moment he was hunched down a bit so he did not tower over them. Strisk thought he looked good this evening having cared for his bronze scales before coming to Kna’s inn. Waldo rolled up the sleeve and piece of rebar and placed it in his pack then pulled out a healing tonic with a dropper on it and a tin a bit larger than his hand slipping the tin into a pocket. Waldo used the dropper to put a few drops of his second healing tonic down each of his ears. Waldo knew it would take a minute for the tonic to kick in and heal enough damage to restore hearing. Waldo returned the spare tonic to the pack and turned around letting his eyes meet Lydia’s. Waldo thought he saw her eyeing him and she had a small smile on her face as their eyes met. Her face made various emotions flare inside him and it had to focus to stay in control feeling a bit like someone else was trying to take control. Waldo felt his hearing return as the sounds of the room washed over him.
“Hello.” Waldo said, smiling at the woman ignoring the large lizardperson or dragonkin. Waldo could not really tell but he knew getting it wrong would probably offend them.
“Hey, I am guardsmen Strisk.” Strisk said. Waldo glanced at the drake and then looked back at the woman. She crossed her arms and her smile turned to a frown. Waldo could not help but think crossing her arms only accentuated a certain feminine feature of her form.
“Any chance I could get your name?” Waldo asked, meeting the woman’s eyes.
“Lydia. Why are you bleeding on our floor and where did you come from?” Lydia asked, feeling her pulse raise with the way he was looking at her. Lydia had not been in the presence of a human male for ten years. Lydia had not been avoiding them there just weren’t many humans in the city she had fled to and she would not risk going back to drake territory as much as part of her wanted certain things, saving up to get off his continent had been her focus. Human also from what she had seen human men did not survive long under the abuse the drakes applied to there slaves in the nearby Xalas empire. “I am Waldo Winter.” Waldo introduced himself looking at Lydia. “As for why I am bleeding, I think it was an explosion of some kind. The shockwave knocked out my hearing. I am from Halcyon. I was in an outlying district at the time of the explosion and the wood in this room tells me I am not there anymore.” Waldo stated calmly.
“So you entered Protham via an unauthorized teleport?” Strisk asked, trying to sound official.
“One I did not initialize or agree to but yes. Are you going to arrest me?” Waldo asked.
“I will have to report it. I will let someone else decide if you should be arrested. Assuming you don’t cause additional trouble.” Strisk said.
“It is an honour to make your acquaintance Strisk. Thank you for not arresting me.” Waldo said, giving Strisk a smile before turning back to Lydia.
“Why were you caught in an explosion?” Strisk asked the strange human, smiling back at him since he was being respectful.
“Well that is a little difficult. I was entering a suspected criminal's residence just before finding myself standing in this lovely room.” Waldo said deciding to omit details since it would be simpler than explaining. “There was an explosion of some kind and then I was here. I have to assume the hunk of metal hit me before I appeared here somehow.”
“Sounds like a teleport spell gone wrong.” Lydia said, allowing herself a moment to look over Waldo since he was not causing trouble. She could see the muscles in his arm and thought she recognized his jawline but knew that could not be the case since she had no idea where Halcyon was.
“I wouldn’t know much about that. I can only hope my brothers are alright. Can one of you tell me where I am?” Waldo asked, masking his face, wondering if he had died. The blast had been strong enough to rupture his ears. Waldo was not sure he could have actually survived, even with Juan in front of him. Waldo expected he had died and this was some sort of reincarnation. Waldo knew he could not return home if the was an arrival on this planet as a child of Halcyon he had heard of this experience but this was his first time. As he thought about this he realized he did not want to go back even if he could. He had been in hiding and now he was probably well outside of the problems he had and doubted anyone hunting him would keep it up after death if he had died. If not then he was incredibly lucky he had landed in a place where he did not die instantly. Looking at Lydia something told him that someone powerful had intervened but Waldo could not imagine who. Jonah had abandoned him and Waldo could not think of another player with enough power to do anything who would also care about him.
“Spriggan Inn, in Protham.” Lydia said, looking carefully at Waldo. Aer walked over carrying a rag and pushing a bucket of steaming water. Kna walked over with a mop and an empty bucket to wring the mop out.
“Oh, thank you.” Waldo said, taking the mop from Kna and starting to clean up.
“Protham is nowhere special, Lydia. We are a weeks travel from Neakar City. Neakar is the district capital here and a port city.” Strisk said, looking at Lydia.
“You don’t have to do that.” Kna said, as Waldo deftly cleaned up the blood on the floor. “Just let him. He is probably in shock.” Strisk said, as they watched Waldo clean the floor easily.
“Just a bit.” Waldo said after a moment, having finished mopping and given the mop back to Kna. Waldo used one of the rages Aer had to clean the table his pack had been on ending by wiping the drying blood from his ears. Waldo looked down and realized he was a mess.
“How far did you travel?” Aer asked, frowning having heard the conversation.
“Far enough, those names mean nothing to me.” Waldo replied.
“So you are gonna need work.” Strisk half asked and half told Waldo.
“Seems like that would be wise.” Waldo said, placing the rag over the edge of the bucket holding the dirty water from Waldo’s cleaning efforts.
“Protham needs good city guards.” Strisk said, smiling. “I can get you an interview tomorrow. I will come by tomorrow morning and get you. If you are interested?”
“I’ll need some training on your laws, but sounds interesting to me.” Waldo said, sticking out his hand to Strisk. Strisk looked at it a moment then realized he was supposed to grab it and did with his clawed hand.
“Thanks, for your help Strisk.” Waldo said, firmly shaking Strisk’s hand.
“Sounds like you want a room for the night. Unless, Strisk is offering to pay. Do you have any money?” Kna asked, frowning at Strisk.
“You can put one night on my tab, Kna.” Strisk said.
“Only if you pay your tab off tonight.” Kna said, feeling a bit bad but knowing Strisk’s tab was getting out of hand.
“Do you accept silver?” Waldo asked, before Strisk could reply to Kna.
“Yes, take a seat and I will get my scales.” Kna said, having heard enough to know she was going to need to calculate an exchange.
“I am glad you happened to have some coin on you.” Strisk said, frowning at Kna’s back.
“Yeah, my dad was big into carrying certain things every day. Good thing, I listened to him cause I bet my country's paper money is worthless here.” Waldo said, pulling the tin out of his pocket and carefully opening to make sure it was the right one then closing it again.
“Well, your bag is probably worth quite a bit. I have never seen anything like it. Fine craftsmanship.” Aer said, examining his pack.
“I would rather not part with it if possible.” Waldo said sitting down at the table his bag had been on since he moved it to the floor beside the table in cleaning the table. Strisk sat down across from him as did Aer with Lydia sitting close and she was still looking at him.
“Lydia, you are being weird.” Aer said, quietly.
“Looks like Lydia wants to bed the man.” Strisk said, frowning at Lydia.
“Watch it, Strisk.” Lydia said to Strisk with an edge in her voice. “Waldo just reminds me of someone.” Lydia followed up with a softer tone.
“Good memories I hope. I think I’d like to get to know you.” Waldo responded, not looking away from Lydia. “You remind me of… Someone.”
“Well, be nice and maybe we can share some memories.” Lydia replied, not breaking his gaze. Waldo felt there were some additional implications in her words.
“Is there a price?” Waldo asked, before he could stop himself. Waldo was not entirely sure where the words had come from in saying them they just burst from his lips like someone else was running the show. The words had sent Lydia’s hand flying. Waldo easily caught it mid air. “I will take that as a no, which is nice. A woman with a price isn’t a woman worth having.” Waldo said, speaking again without being sure where the word came from. Waldo wondered if he was going mad but something told him he was not. Waldo edged closer to Lydia as he thought this and realized he seemed to be of multiple minds in this moment. Words and actions happening that he was not sure were all him. Aer and Strisk were watching in surprise. “Maybe I misinterpreted your words.”
“If you can pay for your room. I am willing to let the words go. Now if you would let me go.” Lydia responded, carefully feeling the strength in his arm and seeing the ease with which he caught her slap. She had used a skill to hit him, one that had landed on Strisks and other guardsmen when they got out of hand. She felt he could be dangerous and even though he had caught the slap and was easily holding her arm in place he was not hurting her. In fact once she relaxed, from making the slap, she realized how relaxed he was in stopping her slap. She saw him considering letting her go. She met his eyes letting her anger show at being held in place. Lydia realized how close he had come moving a little to block her slap and left him close enough she felt his breath on her face. Lydia realized she was breathing on him too and something in his eyes seemed to be enjoying the closeness they were sharing.
“I want a taste.” Waldo said, kissing her before she could react and sliding his hand along her back. Lydia wanted to struggle but part of her had been aching for this for years and she did not put up a fight. After a moment she found she was kissing him back for a moment and just as she was about to pull away. He did first. Waldo had been wanting to kiss her since he had laid eyes on her and at least this time he was sure that was him. “Well, that was… special.” Waldo felt a memory tug at him in the back of his mind. One of a girl that looked just like this woman.
“Maybe, for you.” Lydia said, trying to hide how much she enjoyed it. Waldo released her hand and turned looking for Kna. Waldo watched Kna approach with the scales. Waldo quickly opened the tin, pulling out a bundle of five carefully wrapped gold coins before closing it again and placing the tin back in a pocket.
Waldo unwrapped the coins asking “What exchange rate can you offer on these?” Aer gave a quiet gasp at the sight of them. Waldo feared he had made a mistake. As kna set the scales on the table.
“You have gold?” Strisk asked. Kna seemed unphased as Kna placed the coins on one side of the scale and started to carefully weigh them.
“Just a little. For an emergency.” Waldo responded.
“That should be enough to live here for a month.” Strisk stated, watching Kna carefully.
“You underestimate my rates. This will buy you three weeks.” Kna stated, as the scales balanced.
“What? That is highway robbery!” Strisk said.
“I have to take them to a blacksmith to get them minted in local coinage, they will need to be paid. Or I will have to take them to a money changer, who will also take a cut.” Kna stated.
“What would that include?” Waldo said, realizing his hand had wandered from his leg and found Lydia hand grabbing it tightly. Waldo felt Lydia tense as Waldo grabbed her hand but noticed she did not pull away from the sudden contact.
“A room, hot bath every day, standard laundry service, the common breakfast, and dinner daily with one pint of house ale. You will have to pay for lunch if you come here to eat.” Kna said, listing from memory the services she included in her standard room offering.
“Sounds good to me.” Waldo said smiling and looking out the window confirming it was dark. “I assume we are in the middle of dinner?” Waldo asked, hopefully.
“Yes.” Kna answered.
“May I take dinner in my room? I would like to wash myself before bed. It has been a surprising day.” Waldo asked Kna.
“Yes! I will grab you a plate and show you to your room.” Lydia said, releasing Waldo hand and standing. Waldo let her hand go as she stood. Kna at Lydia with what Waldo expected was motherly concern. As Lydia turned away to get the room key and a plate of food.
“Is there running water in the room?” Waldo asked Kna.
“Yes, but I cannot recommend using it for anything other than bathing.” Kna said.
“It is fine I can purify water. Can I get this filled with water?” Waldo asked, holding out a metal canteen.
“Yes. Aer go fill this and bring it back.” Kna said, handing the canteen to Aer who quickly walked off. “Leave Strisk. I would have a word alone with this man.” Kna growled at Strisk looking angrily. Strisk knew better than to argue with Kna when she gave him this look.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Waldo.” Strisk said standing to his whole sevenish feet of height stretching as he walked away. Waldo only now realized how small he was compared to Strisk.
“Indeed.” Waldo said to Strisk and turned back to Kna.
“I have never seen Lydia take to a man as she has to you. Have you cast a spell on her?” Kna asked Waldo. Waldo burst out laughing, taking a moment to control himself.
“I have no skill in that kind of magic. If you know how to test one for magic I would happily submit. I suspect I know why she has taken to me but there is nothing magical about it.” Waldo said, having gained control of the strange urge to laugh at magic.
“Why?” Kna asked, eyeing him coldly.
“Now why should I answer you?” Waldo asked. “What do you care for, of freed slaves? Or are you not her enslaver?” Kna drew back surprised.
“You said you knew nothing of this place?” Kna replied.
“I have never heard of this city in my life or this land, but I have eyes. Lydia is the only human here beside me. You are a gnoll and Strisk is one of the scaled people’s. I never been around any of them long enough to learn to tell them apart. Lydia clearly has some aversion to Strisk which seems to be unconscious on some level. That suggests it is not that she does not simply dislike him but something more than that. It is obvious to me that she does not belong here and would choose another home, but something prevents that. When I kissed her I ran my hand down her back. I felt the cursed marks of a whip. Is she a free woman or do you own her?” Waldo said, sliding his hand to the knife attached to his lower back.
“My people do not enslave others. She is free. I did not know she hated it here.” Kna said going from angry to crestfallen. “I did not know she had been a drake's slave.”
“You will say nothing of this. If you value your friendship with her. I did not say she hated it here. She works for you, which I expect is because you are not a drake and probably more than that. I get the sense she misses her people. How long has she been here?” Waldo replied, smoothing his voice.
“Several years.” Kna said, drifting in her own thoughts.
“If she hated you she would have left. You must make her feel safe in a dark place so she does not wander from your light.” Waldo said.
“All the more reason to not let her be abused.” Kna said, gauging Waldo.
“You misunderstand something. I will always respect Ma laska.” Waldo said, changing languages without thinking and looking to where Lydia stood talking to Aer as a memory flooded over him for a moment. Waldo felt the other part of him pushing forward for a moment. “Good help you have. Deftly slowing Lydia while we talk.”
“What is ma laska?” Kna asked. Waldo hesitated, surprised by Kna's words, then realized he had called Lydia by accident. Waldo knew what it meant somehow but decided he better not translate it directly.
“A woman’s right.” Waldo said, choosing a lie over the truth. “Or at least that is a close enough translation in this context.”
“So that is another language?” Kna asked.
“Yes, one from my a place long ago.” Waldo answered. “Have we not strayed topics at this point?”
“I think I have made myself clear and you have made yourself clear now.” Kna said, glancing at Aer and making a low growl. “I will let Lydia make herself clear as she chooses. Now that I do not think you will take something Lydia does not freely offer.”
“Have you accepted her as your cub?” Waldo asked, turning to look at Kna.
“I ha... “ Kna stopped herself, looking surprised at Waldo.
“I see it in your eyes, witness it in your fur, and hear it in your voice. She is a daughter in your house. Does she know or do you keep it a secret from all but those who know how to see?” Waldo asked, calmly moving past Kna’s surprise.
“You said.” Kna started to accuse trying to remember his words.
“I have not seen another race in so long. I cannot tell the scaled races apart. However, I ran with a pack for six years. I was a brother to a gnoll, and son to his parents. I sat at their table and went on their hunts. I sang the rights and washed in their bath. I was once an adopted son, which fills me with pride. If you are not a slaver then I would call you friend.” Waldo said quickly as Lydia approached. Just as he finished speaking he gave a quiet howl in the gnoll tongue he had learned many years ago living on the plains of Halcyon long before the war that had landed him here. Aer stopped mid-step and stared at Waldo as the gnolls in the room turned looking at the grimy human who had named himself to the room in gnollish. Kna openly stared surprised Waldo had been named and knew the proper introduction for himself in a public place. Lydia was confused as to her it appeared Waldo was growling threateningly at Kna. Suddenly, the room responded with a quite gnollish welcome that made Lydia jump. Aer gently placed her hand on Lydia’s shoulder.
“They are greeting Waldo in our tongue.” Aer explained to Lydia, seeing she did not know what was happening in the room.
“He speaks gnollish?” Lydia said surprised.
“I guess.” Aer said, pulling her hand back and moving forward again.
“Why did you not say something before?” Kna asked, Waldo as Lydia and Aer walked up. Aer set his canteen on the table.
“It was not the time. All things have a place and now was this things place.” Waldo responded.
“You are a strange human, but I am comforted and feel as if there is nothing to fear.” Kna said to Waldo then turned to Lydia. “Lydia, you may do as you will the rest of the night and I will not interfere.”
“Thank you. May we call this the end of my shift then.” Lydia asked, feeling a little excited. Aer turned moving around the room with the other staff in the inn.
“Away with you before I find a need for your aid in tending to my customers. Who I have ignored, too long.” Kna said quickly moving away to help her staff tend to tables. Waldo picked up his pack and canteen.
“Lead on, Ma laska.” Waldo said, nodding to Lydia.
“Ma laska?” Lydia questioned not saying it quite right.
“Sorry, my lady. Old habits.” Waldo said, lying again feeling unsure as to why he felt like he was fighting to stay in control. Lydia raised an eyebrow questioningly but led on. Waldo followed her up the stairs to the second floor and down a hallway lined with six doors. She stopped in front of the door and placed a brass coin over the lock which clicked and the door swung open. Led him into a good sided room with an all wood floor and completely open. A large bed was on one side of the room, a table with two chairs by the door. Space at the foot of the bed. There was space between the bed and a bathtub with a toilet near the back wall with a screen by the toilet and a sink between the tub and toilet. The room was lit by glowing stones fixed to the walls Waldo saw what appeared to be a control for the glowing stones by the door before the table and chairs. There were towels by the sink. Lydia set the plate on the table and the brass coin next to it. Waldo set his bag at the foot of the bed and started to strip away his body armor until he heard the door shut causing him to turn. Waldo smiled seeing Lyida had not left.
“Would you like help?” Lydia asked, slowly walking to him with a gaze that excited Waldo. The kiss he had stolen had aroused something in Lydia and the urges she had been pushing back had rushed forward.
“I can manage. I am just removing some outer layers. They are deceptively heavy.” Waldo responded.
“Please allow me. I want to.” Lydia said, stepping next to him quickly. Waldo allowed her to help him, carefully guiding her hands to the straps holding the armor in place and allowing their fingers to get tangled. “You seem to be intentionally making this difficult.” Lydia accused, after it took almost a full minute to unhook one strap.
“Does it bother you?” Waldo asked, playfully nudging her and Lydia realized he was enjoying the delay.
“Your food will get cold…” Lydia said, blushing as she started to enjoy the fumbling of their hands and his contact.
“Hot or cold it is still food. However, this moment... is all its own.” Waldo said, dragging out her helping him remove his outer layers, which took another five or more minutes. After which, they sat across from each other as he ate his dinner. Lydia studied him as he ate.
“Have we met before?” Lydia asked, feeling at ease in his presence.
“After a manner…I believe so but not for more than a lifetime.” Waldo responded. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”
“Reincarnation?” Lydia asked not being familiar with the word.
“My people believe when you die a piece of you, what we would call a soul, starts a new life.” Waldo explained.
“I am not much for religion. In my homeland, they said the gods are dead. The Drakes of Xalas seem to think there are gods and people have souls. Most of the gnolls of Grofeas say there are no gods but there is a temple to the gnoll god in Protham and I believe the high priestess is the wife of the city's guard captain.” Lydia replied.
“Xalas? Grofeas?” Waldo asked, suspecting these are countries.
“Neakar, a large city in the Xalas empire. It even has a palace for the emperor. I don’t think it is the capital of the Xalas empire but I might be wrong. The Grofeas plains are ruled by the gnoll tribes. There are not very many cities on the Grofeas plains and Xalas has tentative peace with the plains gnolls that largely control Grofeas. Protham is the first city in the Grofeas plains after leaving the Xalas empire. Mostly, the Drakes have mined the Grofeas plains of all they are interested in so they leave them alone.” Lydia explained.
“What is your home land called?” Waldo asked.
“Northumbria, but last I heard it fell to the drakes in the war. I was captured before the Northumbrian king fell. The Teaniel Empire is the last human hold out against the drakes and if it falls the drakes will effectively rule the continent of Atios. Not that they bother much with the Grofeas plains.” Lydia explained.
“Ah, so you stay because there is no easy human stronghold to flee to?” Waldo questioned.
“I am trying to save up to go to Ibrix but that is a long boat ride off after traveling to the only gnoll port city because I refuse to go back into the Xalas empire. Only problem is Grofeas port city is three hundred leagues to the south east of here. The roads are less than safe and each year there are only about three caravans that make the trek. If I were to cross alone it is unlikely I would make it. The cost of going from here to Ibrix are a little more than a year's wage working here.” Lydia explained sadly.
“How many humans reside in Protham?” Waldo asked.
“Twelve. All women. Eight are too old for the trek and two are too young to go alone.” Lydia said.
“All former slaves of the drakes I assume.” Waldo said.
“What?” Lydia said surprised.
“I worked interrogations. I learned to read what was left unspoken. You have nothing to fear from me. Slavery is the evilest form of commerce.” Waldo said, kneeling by his chair with his back to Lydia and bearing it. Lydia saw thin white scars from wounds that had healed and been reopened only to heal again over and over again. Lydia was speechless. After a moment Waldo covered himself and sat down facing her.
“How did you know?” Lydia questioned. Waldo slid his chair close to her so they were a breath apart. Lydia stared at him waiting for an answer when he kissed her. This time she felt his hand running down her back touching her hidden marks. Waldo pulled back from the kiss after a moment.
“Slavers tend to have the same tricks. They leave the same marks on one's body and some people's souls.” Waldo said quietly as he sat a breaths distance from Lydia’s face. The moment stretched as shared history passed between them and without a word spoken they had shared secrets too dark to udder in the quiet of the room then there was a roar of cheers from the commons breaking the spell that dark secrets of shared history had woven for a moment.
“I hope we can talk more.” Lydia said, after a moment now that the spell was broken. Lydia stood now that her head had cleared. Lydia was not sure what she would do if she stayed and questioned what she wanted.
“Will you stay?” Waldo asked, gently touching Lydia’s hand. Lydia did not pull away. Standing Lydia moved to the door. She intended to open the door and leave but she grabbed the night lock turning the knob. Waldo was not sure what he expected but he would not stop her from leaving. Waldo heard the door lock click into place, Lydia took a few steps toward the bath and moved her hair to one side exposing the ties along her back. Waldo stood and moved to her beginning to untie her dress. Once he was done. Lydia let the dress fall to the floor. Time stretched and shortened all at once and before he knew it exhaustion took them as they lay on the bed together. Lydia snuggled up to him and in a moment her breathing was even and gentle. Waldo knew she had fallen asleep in that moment of respite. Waldo watched her for a moment only to realize how tired he was and started to doze off but just as he heard a voice speak in his mind.
“Class gained Soldier, Level one. Skill gained, find allegiance.”
“Cancel! Reject!” Waldo whispered, angrily not wanting to wake Lydia.
“Class and level canceled.”
Waldo was fully awake now. Realizing he is on a game world, Waldo frowned. He considered this for a moment. Waldo had heard of these but never been on one. Now the injury made more sense. He had died on Halcyon. Waldo wondered if Jonah even cared that he had died. Waldo took a moment to consider the implications of being on a gaming world. There would be no intergalactic armada base here. Waldo knew the gaming worlds had been cut off, largely due to proximity. All the gaming worlds were the opposite side of the galaxy. The armada was still a thousand years of growth away. Waldo now knew with certainty there was no simple way back. As he considered this he realized there might be a way. Waldo thought about it for a few minutes as the idea grew in his mind and realized he truly did not want to go back. “I am a God.” Waldo thought to himself, Waldo felt something rush to the front of his mind, something that believed it or he was a god.
“Class gained God, level one. Skill gained, anoint worshiper. Quest assigned, claim domain.”
Waldo smiled, surprised it was that simple. Waldo considered trying to cancel it but part of him said if he was going to stay here he might as well be a god. Thinking he could do anything as a god. Another part said it was a bad idea and it would not be easy. Waldo wondered why he was feeling so conflicted about everything and why he did not feel like he was in perfect control. Then he wondered if the gods were dead on this world, would he be the only god around, and if so what domain he should claim. Waldo slowly drifted to sleep with these conflicting thoughts.

This is about to be long because i love story telling so i apologize but someone out there, PLEASE read it. Not sure if this is the best place to post this, so feel free to redirect me somewhere else, but i need to know if I’m crazy or not.
Now over 2 years ago in the late winteearly spring, my best friend tried to set me up with someone (her soon to be husbands best friend). I live in the midwest and he is from the same city BUT he is stationed on the west coast in the military. (Red flag, i know) I’m not sure why i followed through with talking to him knowing he is so far away, but the way she described him and his personality, i felt like i just had to. The universe told me to. Turns out we have A LOT in common. Very similar sense of humor and personality and views on life and all that nonsense. We really hit it off. We would talk every night for hours and all day long as well. He would talk about me to his friends like he’s never talked about anyone. Which truly made me think that he was into me since he would talk about it with his friends and not just tell me these things. Especially since men don’t usually express feelings like that from my experience. This lasted about 6 months. Which sounds like a long time for a situationship but keep in mind i wasn’t exactly able to see him in person. (Biggest reason on why shouldn’t have ever slid into those dm’s in the first place) He would talk about flying home or helping fly me out to see each other but plane tickets at that time were through the roof like everything else. On top of paying for a hotel and such. So it just wasn’t working out for us. The longer we talked, the stronger our bond was. As strong as it could be anyway. It never died out either and because of that, i didn’t see what was coming next.
One day i realized he didn’t respond for quite awhile and even left me on read. Which I’m not psycho and that stuff usually doesn’t bother me, but something in my gut just felt off. I tried to gaslight myself into believing nothing was wrong despite the fact my gut was telling me otherwise. Three days pass and still nothing. I tried reaching out a couple more times but i also didn’t want to seem obsessive or crazy.
One morning i finally woke up to THE text. Basically the whole “it’s not you, it’s me” spiel. Thinking back on it now, it probably was never going to work then. And he’s actually still stationed out there so it still to this day would not work. I’ve come to terms with that. I understand. But that’s not the issue i have. Was it something i did? Was it something he did but didn’t want to admit? Did he get the ick? Why was it so abrupt? I personally have never gotten closure from it. And that’s probably part of the reason i still have strong feelings. After that day i didn’t speak to him again and he didn’t speak to me. Unadded each other on everything and that was it.
Fast forward to nearing the end of the year. My friend (mentioned earlier) is marrying her soon to be husband. I am a bridesmaid and guess who happens to be a groomsmen. At this point, he has a girlfriend, who is going to be his plus one. (As she should be. Rightfully so.) Keep in mind, him and I never met in person. So this was going to be a first for both of us. Not sure how he reacts in situations like that, but at least he has his girlfriend there as a “distraction” you could say. I only had me and my anxious thoughts. I don’t do well in these scenarios. I thought maybe just seeing him would somehow give me that closure, it did not. And it made everything 10x worse. I’ve never felt more overwhelmed in my life. It was almost embarassing although nobody really knew what was going on because I played it off very well. Originally i was supposed to walk with him, but fortunately that changed. He was still right behind me though so doing the rehearsal over and over was hard. I felt his presence and the tension was thick. His girlfriend wasn’t at the rehearsal, but she was at the wedding. And after i didn’t think it could get any worse, seeing them together absolutely made it worse. (Fortunately the open bar was my best friend that night.) I survived the wedding weekend and i didn’t see him again after that.
I was going through a depression spell. My best friend married into the military and moved to the east coast shortly after the wedding on top of everything else i was feeling and couldn’t stop thinking about. Fast forward a few months and my friend comes back home for a week to visit. Her and i get to talking and i just completely break down. (in the steak n shake parking lot with a garlic steakburger stuffed in my mouth as one does) Now a known fact about me is that i have a very hard time with love. I think about how short life is and i don’t want to waste my time. Every possible “bachelor” i meet, I’m interested in for about a week or two and then totally lose all interest and feelings in the blink of an eye. For a long time i thought there was something wrong with me. I’ve only had one boyfriend and despite being together for a year, something didn’t feel right the whole time but i was new to it all and didn’t think much of it until i was in too deep. I’ve never been able to see myself getting married or having kids or growing old or even just being intimate with most, if not all, of my situation/relationships. And i could see myself really living my best life with him.
I’m telling my friend how i just feel like it’s not over. I don’t know if it was because i didn’t get the closure i needed or what. But i felt like i was seeing signs everywhere that it was not over forever and that he will enter my life again. And she agreed. She too felt the same way. And i know she wasn’t just saying that because it’s what i wanted to hear. She’s not like that. Her saying that made me feel a little less crazy honestly. I just feel some deep connection with this boy even being 1000 miles away.
So from then on through today, i keep seeing signs. I see his name everywhere, I’ve ran into his mom before which was odd. He’s in my dreams. He’s just on my mind 24/7. There are more signs but you know. And it’s SO frustrating really. I wish it would end but i can’t make it stop. And it’s been so long, it’s embarrassing. I don’t bring him up. His name never leaves my lips. No one knows i still feel this way. Not even my best friend anymore because i felt like i was being very annoying about it. I don’t need her thinking I’m crazy. I’m not a homewrecker. I’m going to leave him be and let him and his girlfriend live their happy life. Reaching out feels like the last thing i should do. Mostly embarrassing but also just all around a bad idea.
I’m also not totally trying to hold out for him. I’ve tried being with someone else and it only lasted a month before i realized that being with this guy is totally unfair because i know i still have feelings that i can’t get rid of for someone else. And I’m not going to do that to someone. I’ve had other opportunities come my way and I’ve even gone through a “manic” phase trying to change my whole look and personality to see if becoming a whole new person would help fix me. (It did not. It sent me into a very deep depression actually. Do not recommend) I’m still young. In my early/mid 20s. I get told i have plenty of time to figure it all out. But no one really knows how much time they have left. I try not to think about that but i don’t want to have any regrets when that time comes. And spending my whole life hyper fixating on one person would be a regret.
It all sounds so underwhelming in writing because it’s hard to really fathom my true thoughts in words. Am i crazy for feeling this way? Is there anyone else out there who can relate? Is there a way to fix this? What is wrong with me?!

~PART 1~

An urban legend took my daughter’s life, and I would’ve done anything to save her.
Cock the Hammer. Have you ever heard of it? Not the Cypress Hill hip-hop song but the game. I’ll be honest, I hadn’t. Not until all of this happened.

Looking around at all the people in my house, I had wanted them to take their sympathy and leave me the fuck alone. A funeral for Nina shouldn’t be any kind of comfort for me. My daughter was dead, and I felt responsible.

Max found his sister. I should’ve been the one, but I was too busy and distracted. I should’ve done better. Nina had always thought I could. She believed in me more than I believed in myself, and that’s not the way a father-daughter relationship is supposed to work.

When I saw Chief Schnabel slip in my front door, I was furious. I didn’t want this guy in my house or anywhere near me. Schnabel was the one who told me the gunshot that killed my daughter was consistent with suicide. But they never found a gun. I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but suicide victims don’t dispose of their weapons. But this minor fact didn’t stop Schnabel from shutting down his investigation three hours after Nina was found.

I was about to make a rage-filled beeline for the Chief when I spotted Willow, Nina’s best friend since pre-school. I hadn’t talked to her since Nina died, and I needed to. Maybe she had answers.

Willow was emotional, but that didn’t stop me from bombarding her with lawyer-like questions, making her cry. I felt bad, but before I could apologize, the rest of Nina’s friends swooped in. There was Zach, Haley, Chase and Hugo. I’ve known these four for years and think they’re all decent kids, apart from Zach and his frat-boy smugness. I couldn’t tell if they were trying to protect Willow or hiding something, but I was determined to find out. But they kept giving me the runaround, especially smartass Zach.

I suddenly had the urge to punch Zach in the face, but my sister rescued me, dragging me into the kitchen. Lauren and her wife, Kim, reminded me that I was at my daughter’s funeral reception and that I probably shouldn’t be getting into a fight with her friends or making them cry. Lauren said I should be focused on Max. This riled me up, but I knew she was right.

The reception was finally winding down, and I had stayed hidden in the kitchen for the last hour, trying to talk to Max. He was playing his Game Boy and refusing to look at me, his fingers tapping away a million miles an hour.

Max is the sweetest kid – when he’s not having one of his epic meltdowns. His mother was good at consoling him, but she died last year of ovarian cancer. Nina had gracefully stepped in as the family Max-whisperer in my wife’s absence, the best big sister a kid with emotional issues could wish for. But now it was just me and Max.

“I promise I’ll do better, buddy,” I told him for the umpteenth time. “We’re all we have now, and I promise I’ll do better.”

Max didn’t respond, but I knew he’d heard me because his fingers stopped moving.

Willow suddenly appeared at the door. I was glad to see her, and I apologized for before.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice still shaky. “I know you’re upset.”

I nodded and kind of smiled, sharing something with her. We were both upset. We were both devastated.

“I just wanted to say goodbye,” Willow finally said after a long silence.

“I really am sorry, Willow. I was out of line. I know you were a wonderful friend to Nina. She was lucky to have you.”

Willow started to cry again. It was a little awkward, but I hugged her. I knew I wasn’t hugging my daughter, but I felt Nina close.

“Max, can I talk to your dad in private for a moment?”

Max dropped off his stool and walked out, never looking up from his Game Boy.

Willow wanted to tell me something important, so I let her take her time. I didn’t want to spook her.

“I was there when it happened,” she finally said.

I wasn’t sure what she meant.

“I was with Nina when she did it.”

“You were with Nina when she died?” I asked, needing this to be as clear as possible in my head.

Willow couldn’t speak before, but once she started, she was desperate to get it all out. She told me they got a hold of the gun and played the game at Zach’s house. She told me Nina didn’t want to play at first, but then the gun followed her home and seduced her, and when she did play, she experienced a suicide and the gun forced her to do what she did, even though Willow knows that’s the last thing Nina wanted to do.

I was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

Willow keeps talking, forcing the rest out. She told me she got rid of the gun. She told me that after a suicide, you have to protect the legend, or the gun will come after you and everyone you love. So that’s what she did. She drove out to Walton Park, dug a hole, and buried it.

She finally took a breath. I could tell she felt a sense of relief, but at the same time, she looked as if she might break into a million pieces.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. H.”

“I’m trying to understand what you’re saying, Willow,” I said as gently as I could. “I need to understand. This gun – whose was it?”

“It doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“And you say you played a game. What do you mean… what game?”

Before Willow could answer, her mother swept in, offered her condolences again, and whisked her daughter out. I would’ve stopped them if I had been thinking straight.

I found my sister cleaning up the buffet table. Lauren knew something was up by the look on my face. I asked her if she knew of some urban legend about a gun and a game.

“Cock the Hammer,” Lauren said without even thinking about it. “That story was big when we were kids. Why?”

“I don’t remember that.”

“That’s because you were too obsessed with basketball and Suzanne Boysen.”

“So, it’s not real?”

“What? Some haunted gun? No, of course not. Why are you asking about this?”

I brushed the question off. I didn’t want to try to explain what Willow had told me. I just wanted to think for a moment. I just needed time to think.

I jumped on the internet as soon as my house was my own again. It was true – there’s an urban legend called Cock the Hammer that’s been around for decades. I still couldn’t believe I’d never heard of it. It involves this ornate Lefaucheux revolver from the Civil War. Supposedly when you cock the gun’s hammer it shows you a random killing that’s been committed with the gun. You time travel to the place and time of a killing and get to inhabit the body of the person pulling the trigger. But there’s a Russian Roulette catch to the game. While most people experience the killing of another person, in some cases, the person used the gun to commit suicide. If a player relives one of these scenes, they’re forced by the evil possession of the gun to use it on themselves. The gun takes control, and it insists on being discharged – into a player’s head or mouth or whichever way the person committed suicide – to end the session. Or at least that’s how the legend goes.

My first thought was that’s some crazy, stupid shit. But the more I kept reading, the angrier it made me. This crazy, stupid shit was dangerous as hell.

How did Nina fall for it? I couldn’t understand that. She was such a smart kid. How could she have believed in such nonsense? That some fantasy gun had magical powers.

I wanted answers. But then again, maybe I didn’t deserve answers. I should’ve been protecting my daughter, but instead, this game and this so-called haunted gun had seduced her. It was a hard truth for me to swallow.

I couldn’t sleep that night. The gun haunted me. Not that I believed any of it; I didn’t. But I worried another Nina would. Willow said she had buried the gun, but that wasn’t good enough for me. I needed to unearth it and destroy it.

I picked Willow up first thing in the morning, and we drove out to Walton Park. I knew what I was asking her to do made her nervous. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the gun again. But I think she could tell I was desperate. It wouldn’t bring Nina back, but maybe it would save me just a little.

The hike into the woods was farther than I anticipated, but Willow said she wanted to get the gun as far away from anything and everyone as she could. She remembered exactly where she buried it. She hadn’t wanted to get lost hiking out, so she picked Squaw Rock, a place she used to visit with her dad before he remarried and started a new family.

We finally reached the area and the mound of dirt Willow buried the gun under. I had brought a small shovel and immediately started digging, tossing off dirt. I keep digging. I was surprised at how deep Willow buried it. Finally, I hit something solid. But it wasn’t the gun. It was a thick root from a nearby tree. I couldn’t dig any deeper.

“Are you sure this is the right spot?” I asked.

Willow was positive. She was suddenly on her knees. She put her hands into the hole, and they knocked hard against the root.

“Where is it?” She started searching through the loose dirt. She kept clawing at things with her hands, hoping the gun was somehow hidden in the tiny clumps. “Where is it?!” Her nerves had turned to panic.

I put a hand on her shoulder. “Somebody probably just found it.”

“No. I buried it here so no one could find it. But I shouldn’t have done that. I made it angry.”

I helped her to her feet. “Someone came along and dug it up, that’s all,” I said in my most self-assured voice.

Willow shook her head and kept shaking.

“It’s going to be okay,” I told her.

“It’s evil, Mr. H.”

“It’s a gun, Willow. It’s only evil if we make it evil.”

Willow told me I didn’t understand. She told me she would give anything to make me understand before it was too late.

All I wanted was to talk to Nina’s friends, and I asked Willow to text them. They felt ambushed when my car pulled into the 7-11 parking lot an hour later. Willow wanted to tell them she had buried the gun, but it was gone. I wanted to know if any of them had it, convinced that one of them did.

Even though I now knew they were all playing the game the night Nina died, her friends were still reluctant to talk. But Willow vouched for me, and they all softened. None of them had the gun. None of them wanted the gun after what happened to Nina.

“You can’t bury it,” Hugo said.

“You can’t destroy it, either,” Chase added.

Now that I was hearing the same story from all of them – seeing the same ardent belief in something so preposterous – I wanted more than ever to get my hands on this gun. Everything can be destroyed, even something evil.

I questioned Zach on where he got the gun in the first place, and he said he just found it. He was walking home from school, cutting through Abbot’s field, when the gun was just there in his path like it had been waiting for him.

“It probably sensed his fear,” Chase tells me.

Zach shoves Chase. “Bullshit, what fear?”

“Fine, dude, then it sensed your anger or stupidity or whatever.”

Zach came at Chase again, and the two boys scuffled, and I had to step in and break them up.

Zach stormed off in a huff, and Chase disappeared into the 7-Eleven. Hugo tried to escape with Haley, but she pulled her hand away. She wanted Hugo to tell me about his Uncle Ray. Hugo was pissed she was bringing this up when he asked her not to. The two argued for a moment, but then Hugo came clean. His Uncle Ray played the game a few years ago.

I pressed Hugo for details, but he said all he wanted to say, so Haley spoke for him. She told me that Uncle Ray played the game and experienced a suicide, but the person in the past trying to kill themselves screwed things up. “I mean, it was an attempted suicide, I guess,” Haley said. “They put the gun to their head and pulled the trigger, but they didn’t die. The bullet just got lodged in their brain. And that’s what happened to Uncle Ray. That’s how the game works.”

“He’s a vegetable,” Hugo offered. “Or at least that’s what my dad thinks. But my Aunt Kathy still visits him every day. She talks to him and swears he talks back – or at least on some telepathic level or something.”

“Where’s he living?” I asked.

“If you can call that living,” Hugo said with a pained chuckle.

“The place is called Cedarwood Manor,” Haley offered. “It’s out by the interstate.”

I wanted to take Willow home – she had helped me enough – but she insisted on coming along to Cedarwood Manor. I think being with me made her feel connected to Nina, and that’s something I understood. The feeling was mutual.

The front desk receptionist sent us in the right direction. We stepped into Uncle Ray’s room, pulled in by the droning beep of the machines. The blinds were drawn. To be honest, the guy looked dead more than anything. I guess he hadn’t been out of bed, or rather some bed, since this all happened – since he supposedly played the game and put a bullet in his head whether he wanted to or not, so his body had deflated like a balloon.

It wasn’t until Willow and I stood closer to the bed that we realized Uncle Ray’s eyes were open. His blank stare was eerie-looking. It was also focused squarely on Willow.

I wasn’t there for small talk, so I started asking the man questions about the gun and the game. I was pretty sure Uncle Ray could hear me because his eyes kept glancing over at me at various points, clearly triggered by what I was asking. But for the most part, his focus stayed drilled on Willow.

I wanted to know if it was true that he played some game called Cock the Hammer. I wanted to know how I could find the gun. I wanted to understand what he was so afraid of.

This last question surprised me. I wasn’t planning on asking it. I wouldn’t have imagined why I would. But the look of terror on Uncle Ray’s face made me realize it was the most important question of all.

Willow still hadn’t looked away. I think she was waiting for Uncle Ray to blink. I was waiting for the same thing. The man hadn’t, I swear, since we walked in.

Blink.

Willow’s arm was suddenly snatched by Uncle Ray’s hand. It came out of nowhere, his bony fingers clamping down hard around her flesh. Willow freaked. She tried frantically to squirm free, but his hand stayed clutched around her wrist, draining the blood from her hand. She wanted to run, and she tried to, yanking the wisp of the guy out of bed. The two of them were on the floor before I could even react. I jumped in and tried to pry Uncle Ray’s fingers open, but it was like rigor mortis had set in.

The commotion brought a crowd into the room like a code blue. The massive descent of bodies somehow freed Willow from what I’m sure felt like the grip of death. She scurried across the room on all fours. I moved with her, wanting to comfort her, but she jumped at my touch.

Willow was still shaking when I drove her home. She wouldn’t talk at first, but then she started mumbling something under her breath. I told her I really wanted to hear what she was saying, but she would have to speak up. She took a breath and started over. She told me that when Uncle Ray grabbed her arm, there was a bright flash of light in the room, and Uncle Ray was suddenly sitting at the edge of the bed, the Lefaucheux revolver from the game pointed at his head. He was trying to tell her something. She was terrified, but she stopped fighting him, transfixed, and just watched as the words slowly formed on his lips. I... dare... you.

“I dare you,” I repeated. “I dare you to what?”

“Play the game, I think,” Willow said.

It was suddenly clear to me that she had hit her head when she fell, and what she experienced was some sort of delusion. I told her that, hoping it would reassure her, but she insisted that what she was telling me had really happened.

“Why would he want you to play the game?” I asked, gently trying to discredit the story.

“He doesn’t,” she answered. “The gun does.”

I didn’t know what else to say, so I stayed quiet.

A few minutes later, I rolled to the curb in front of Willow’s house. The place was dark, except for a garish fluorescent light in the kitchen. Willow just stared up at it.

“It’s my fault,” she finally said. “I should’ve stopped Nina from playing.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I quickly answered. “It was my responsibility to be there for her. And I wasn’t.”

Willow took a few deep breaths, still trying to calm her nerves, then started chewing on the ends of her hair.

“I want you to take care, Willow. Okay?”

I think this made her feel better... that someone cared enough to be concerned.

“I want you to be careful, Mr. H. Okay?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to find the gun. I’m going to destroy it, I promise.”

Willow didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, she told me she wanted to believe me. She said she was going to try really hard to believe me. She said she genuinely thought that if anyone could do what I just said I would, it would be me. And then she said she’d pray for me.

I thanked her. She smiled, which was a little forced but nice to see, and then she climbed out of my car.

I didn’t know then that I would need Willow’s prayers – and every bit of help I could get – to survive what was about to happen next.

The second half of a long chapter.
“Oh, professor page,” I heard Anna yell from the living room, “You better get your ass out here quick.”
I quickly rinsed off my hands scurried into the living room, greeted by the two couples sprawled out on the sectional couch in their swimwear, Anna and Kelly in string bikinis and Archer and Paul in speedos. My cock was never limp that day, but there were moments – typically, those of the most intense humiliation – when it was harder than others. Seeing the four fit young bodies in all (or at least, most of) their glory was one of them. And while my gaze naturally was first drawn to Anna’s toned, long legs and taut midriff, followed by Kelly shorter, but still attractive legs and pretty toes, I would be lying if I didn’t admit to admiration of the slender, muscular swimmer bodies of the two young men as well.
My eyes also drifted over Paul’s bare feet. It was the first time I had seen bare the feet I had kissed in the bar through his sneakers or in the apartment through his thick wool socks. I was curious, naturally, but didn’t want to be too obvious, so quickly averted my glance before getting a good look. I need not have worried, however, as I would be spending a great deal of time up close and personal with his bare feet (and Anna’s) in the months that followed, starting a few minutes later. Paul did not have the same obsession with having his feet worshipped as Luke did, but there is no question that he greatly enjoyed the power trip of having an older authority figure quite literally at his feet.
I must also confess that in addition to dwelling as long as I dared on the breasts of Anna (like Brooke’s, ample but not overly large) and Kelly (slightly larger and, to my mind, less proportional to her shorter frame), my eyes also flittered over the speedo-clad crotches of Paul and Archer. Speedos leave so little to the imagination. While I was mortified when forced to wear a speedo, my inadequacy on full display, these two young athletes were completely at ease. Their muscular, chiseled bodies were one explanation for that; the size of their bulges was another.
“Perhaps the professor page can stop ogling our bodies long enough to get us all another round of drinks,” said Anna.
Kelly said, “I think he’s staring more at the boys’ bodies than he is at ours, Anna. I’m jealous.”
“Most cucks are closet fags, so that’s no surprise,” said Paul.
I wanted to object that I wasn’t gay, closet or otherwise. I wanted to say, “What about you, someone who enjoys humiliating other males, forcing them to dress in feminine clothing, spanking their bare bottoms with your bare hands, perhaps other, more intimate things….What does all of that make you?” But I dared not I was say anything of the kind. Instead I simply confirmed their drink orders and hurried off to make them, checking on my stroganoff. And being honest with myself, while I knew beyond a doubt that I was not homosexual, I did have to admit that I was not immune to the physical attractions of dominant, young alpha males. Did I have this attraction prior to the events of the last seven months when Luke came onto the scene like a cyclone? Probably on some level, yes, but it had been latent. No longer.
When I returned to the living room with a serving tray holding their four cocktails, trying hard not to spill any of them, Paul said, “We know our page boy knows how to clean shoes, but what about other personal duties? Who besides me would like a foot massage?”
“That sounds like an excellent idea, dude. Count me in,” said Archer.
“You two boys go ahead. If he does a good job, Kelly and I may have him massage our feet as well,” said Anna.
“Start with Archer. On your knees, of course, page,” said Paul.
“Yes sir,” I said, kneeling before Archer, and beginning to work on his feet with warmup twists and arch rubs. His feet were somewhat calloused, but well formed.
“Ah, that feels good. He’s actually not too bad at this,” Archer said.
Pointing at my crotch, Kelly said, “Look, his little cock is stiff again. Are you excited to massage my boyfriend’s feet, professor?” As she spoke, she pressed her toes lightly against my cock through my tights. It surprised me that it was Kelly, rather than Anna (or even Paul), to first touch my liberated cock.
“No, Princess Kelly.”
“No? But your little stiffie says otherwise. Are you not being honest with us, professor?” She pressed a little harder with her foot, smiling wickedly.
In truth, the entire situation was incredibly arousing and, therefore, incredibly humiliating. Which made it still more arousing. It was a viscous cycle, one which I had been getting increasingly used to with Luke and Brooke. But the dynamics with my students and Archer were different, and, if anything, more intense. Was it the greater age disparity, the bigger inversion of authority, the fact that there was an element of coercion involved? All of the above? Brooke would tell me that I think about these things too much. She would counsel me to go with flow, enjoy the game, embrace the sheer eroticism of it all. I tried valiantly to do just that. Can one be valiant in accepting servitude and abuse?, I wondered (see how I over analyze everything?!)
Lancelot would no doubt have answered my question in the affirmative. Yet, his servitude was solely to Guinevere, and the abuse and humiliations he suffered were solely to satisfy her commands, her whims. Whereas Brooke was not even aware of my servitude to my students. Still, I could tell myself – with some degree of honesty – that the indignities I was suffering at their hands were because of my devotion to Brooke. Because I was in their power as a direct consequence of my obedience to Luke, and I was obedient to Luke for Brooke and Brooke alone. The frail heartbeat of chivalry was still detectable (to me, at least). Perhaps the time had come to tell Brooke of my predicament with Paul and Anna? But there was something so shameful about it. Would it diminish me in Brooke’s eyes in some different, profound and irrevocable way? Or would she hug me, perhaps even thank me for my sacrifice, and tell me everything will be okay?
These were the myriad thoughts that ran through my head as I also contemplated my response to Kelly’s fraught question. “No, princess, I mean, it’s all of your feet…,” I answered,lamely.
She snickered. “Well, you are the Liitle Foot Page, so I guess it makes sense that you’re turned on by feet.”
“Pretty much all submissive guys are turned on by feet. Issac is insane for my feet,” said Anna. You will recall that Issac was the young male slave in Paul’s and Anna’s stable.
“Not just submissive men. Cindy loves worshiping your feet too, babe,” Paul said to Anna. If you recall, Cindy (who, like Issac, I had not yet met at that point) was another member of Paul’s and Anna’s stable of slaves, a fellow student at the college whose intense crush on Paul was not reciprocated. Instead, he put her squarely into “ the friendzone,” eventually introducing her to Anna. Cindy was now a submissive servant to both of them, grateful to be part of Paul’s life under any circumstances.
Anna said to Kelly, “I don’t know about you, but I love having my feet pampered and having my toes sucked, and love the sight of submissive creatures groveling at my feet. At the same time, I couldn’t imagine in a million fucking years being the one doing the sucking or groveling. I have no desire to be that close to anyone’s feet.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I wouldn’t even want to kiss Archer if he sucked my toes. Ew, gross,” said Kelly, with a little shudder.
Archer interjected, “Yo’ve got nothing to worry about there, darling. You have pretty feet, but I have zero desire to kiss or lick them.”
“Or course you don’t, you’re not a perv, like the good professor here. Professor pervert, kiss the bottom of the foot you’re massaging. You don’t mind having your feet kissed, do you sweetheart?” Kelly asked Archer.
“No, I have no problem being worshipped. And I’m secure enough in my masculinity that I don’t care if it’s a submissive cuck like this loser doing the worshiping.”
“That’s what I love about you, sweetheart. You’re masculine, dominant AND open minded. That’s like icing on a yummy cake.,” Kelly said, as she started to kiss Archer passionately. “Professor, keep kissing the bottoms of my man’s feet while we make out.”
I kissed the balls of Archer’s feet, trying to avoid the callouses. I wondered: aren’t swimmers more prone to plantar warts, walking around all those bacteria-riddled pools and locker rooms in their bare feet? I knew plantar warts are highly contagious. Could I get warts on my lips or in my mouth? I made a mental note to research this on-line later. From extensive experience with Brooke and Luke, I was well aware of the aphrodisiac effect my submission could have on a couple dominating me. The exact reasons for this still remain something of a mystery to me. Just like you have to be a masochist to understand certain things, I guess you have to be a dominant or a sadist to understand others.
As if reading my thoughts, Anna said, “I think submissives’ brains must be wired differently. They have to be for them to enjoy feet so much. I mean, sometimes after we work out at the gym, Paul and I will rest our feet right on Cindy’s face. Can you imagine? Our sweaty, wet socks covering her nose and mouth. You’d think she’d have some self-respect and tell us to go to hell. Or, at a minimum, that she’d complain about the smell. Not that my feet smell, of course, but Paul’s smell something awful after he’s been working out,” she smiled at him.
“Yeah, right, babe,” Paul replied. He then explained to Kelly and Archer, “Don’t believe anything she says about her feet not smelling. The smell of her foot sweat is overpowering.”
“Bullshit,” Anna said, smiling and hitting him on the shoulder. “But, like I was saying, far from protesting, Cindy actually inhales the smell of our sweat socks and our sweaty feet. She almost looks as if she’s in ecstasy, like she’s smelling perfume or fresh flowers or something. And she even looks happy when she’s licking the toe jam and lint from between my toes. It’s disgusting. But it’s pretty funny watching her. And I like the sensation of her tongue on my toes.”
“It’s what I’ve been telling you for awhile now, babe. Submissives are intellectually inferior. They’re sexual deviants. By humiliating and abusing them, we’re giving them what they want, what they need, in fact. So there’s no reason for us to feel bad when we mistreat them. We’re actually doing them a favor,” said Paul.
Paul was a Psychology major and fancied himself some sort of authority on this subject apparently, although it was clear to me that he was greatly oversimplifying what were, in reality, very complicated human relationship dynamics. He also had a facile understanding of human intelligence. Under different circumstances, I might have tried to engage him in a debate. But to have done so at that moment would have been the height of folly, so I kept my mouth shut and my fingers busy.
After spending 15 minutes on Archer’s feet, I massaged the feet of my three students for the same amount of time (timed by Paul). Paul and Anna kissed each other while I worked on Anna’s feet, much as Archer and Kelly had done. Each insisted I respectfully kiss the bottoms of their feet after finishing the massage. Paul was last. While I massaged his feet, Anna prodded my balls with her high heel shoe, laughing as my cock twitched through my tights. Having been denied release for so long, my biggest fear was that all of the stimuli – the scantily-clad, young bodies, the humiliating dissection of my fetishes, the pressure of Anna’s foot (which she occasionally brushed against my the underside of my shaft) – would cause me to ejaculate. The thought of that was beyond mortifying, so I did everything I could possibly do to distract myself mentally.
Their ongoing conversation about feet did not make my task an easy one.
“Rollins, you’re actually pretty good at this. In a sensible world, you would be spending your time in your classes massaging all of your students’ feet rather than lecturing to them. It’s a better use of your talents.” There did seem to be a general consensus that I have a knack (was Paul’s term, “talent,” too strong a word) for giving foot massages. I guess there’s at least one thing I can do well with my hands after all, I thought to myself.
“Now, Paul. Don’t be cruel. I’ve had some pretty good courses with Professor Foot Page. I don’t see any reason why he couldn’t lecture while he massages everyone’s feet.” Kelly giggled.
Anna snickered. “Can you picture it? I can. He would be dressed just as he is now, crawling from student to student.”
“Yes, and then he could massage the feet of all of the other faculty members of the English department,” said Kelly, giggling.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t already massaging Neil Lawson’s feet. Lawson already has him fetching his coffee. Or he did today, at least. There’s definitely something going on there,” said Paul.
I couldn’t decide whether to be relieved Paul didn’t know any specifics or to be distressed that he was so suspicious – and that his instincts were correct. I remained silent.
Paul continued, “He obviously has a big foot fetish, like most submissives. Rollins, you ought to consider having a whole chapter dedicated to foot worship in that book you’re working on. You’ll be a real authority on the subject before we’re finished with you.”
Putting aside the implicit threat in his last remark, Paul actually might be on to something, I thought. I had been struggling with the organization of my book, which had really evolved quite a bit over the last six months. While I still aimed to show how medieval courtly poetry was what started the rich history of male masochism in western literature, I was increasingly focusing on contemporary BDSM cuckold fiction and what had clearly been an explosion in interest in that lifestyle in recent years, globally.
Miraculously, I was able to get through the massages and constant teasing without ejaculating. About halfway into my 5-hour stay at the condo, I served the four of them dinner, trying to remember to curtsy at all the required moments. They had changed back into the clothes they were wearing before their swim, Anna and Kelly in short skirts, stockings and heels and Paul and Archer in jeans and polo shirts. Anna kept her little notepad next to her plate on the table, and occasionally wrote in it, causing me further anxiety. When not going back and forth between the kitchen and dining room, I was expected to stand by the table at attention – to refill glasses of the wine I had purchased, fold the napkins of anyone who got up from the table, or do anything else ordered of me. My cock tented out my tights the entire time, of course. My self consciousness about this at least had the advantage of taking my mind off my hunger somewhat, as I enviously watched the four of them eat the meal I had prepared (I sampled the stroganoff as I was cooking it, and thought it came out quite well).
Anna invited everyone to critique the meal afterwards, and it was generally agreed upon that the beef and mushroom sauce was delicious, but that the pasta was overcooked. The salad and dressing was a success, but the Italian green beans less so. I was grateful that Anna had not required me to also prepare dessert.
“Well, Professor maid, it seems that both punishments and a reward are in order for your uneven meal and service. You also earned demerits for failure to curtsy on at least four occasions – I’m sure that I missed others – and continued deficiencies in your technique. Also for how you walked in heels earlier. The mushy pasta and beans were also unacceptable. On the other hand, the stroganoff itself was excellent, as was the salad and dressing. The boys will administer your punishment, and Kelly and I will grant you your reward.”
I replied, with a curtsy, “Yes, princess. Thank you, princess.” The truth of the matter is I didn’t know which of the two caused me greater dread: the punishment or the reward.
“Which should we give him first?”, asked Kelly.
Paul said, “Definitely the punishment first. We need to leave enough time for the redness of his ass to fade in case Luke or his wife want to punish him as well when he gets home.”
“And a submissive freak like him will probably enjoy his reward more with a sore ass. I’ve calculated that he’s owed 120 spanks. 100 from today, and the 20 we didn’t give him on Tuesday that he was due. Which one oy you strapping young men will do the honors?”, said Anna.
“This is going to be so much fun to watch,” said Kelly gleefully.
“It’s going to be hot,” said Anna. “I get all tingly watching Paul punish the slaves. Especially the beta males and sissies.”
“I know you do, girlfriend. Me too,” said Kelly. “I think it’s only fair that each of the boys give him sixty spanks, so you and I get to enjoy this equally,” said Kelly.
“Sounds good. Okay with you guys?,” said Anna.
“Fine. After you,” Paul said to Archer.
“Happy to dish out some discipline to the old cuck. Should we take him up to the dungeon and put him over the bench?”, asked Archer.
“No need to. We have to use our hands for now because we can’t leave any asting marks on his ass. So just take him over your knee,” Paul replied.
“Oh, how I wish we could cane or strap him! I think the cane is a lot more persuasive than just your hands. And the welts can be lovely,” said Anna.
“Someday, babe. You just have to be patient,” said Paul. “Not one of your strong suits, I realize.”
“Don’t worry, ladies. I will make sure his spanking is plenty persuasive. Get over my knees, old man,” commanded Archer.
“Yes, sir.” I draped myself over his knees, incredibly ashamed as I felt my hard cock press through my tights against the jeans covering his firm thighs.
“Do you feel his little stiffie on your leg, honey?,” Kelly asked, tittering.
“I do, but not for long. I’m going to beat it out of him. By the time I’m finished with him, he’ll be as limp as one of the overcooked noodles he served us,” said Archer. I felt his sizable hand resting on the center of my tights-clad bottom. Without warning, he lifted his hand and brought it down sharply on my right cheek.
I typically tried to be stoic in such moments, but the ferocity of his strike (and the suddenness of it) caused me to cry out, “Ouch!” I heard the amusement of our audience.
“That’s right, honey. Give it to him good! Pull down his tights and give it to him on the bare,” said Kelly.
Archer did as Kelly requested. What followed were repeated, loud smacking sounds of flesh striking flesh – as Archer carefully alternated cheeks – accompanied by a slow but steady buildup of pain. The tights had offered negligible protection. The sound was the big difference, but it seemed to provide a more satisfying sensory experience for my three students, who were witnessing the remarkable spectacle of their professor being punished like a naughty child. By the 30th spank or so, the pain was intense. And Archer was correct, my cock had deflated under his relentless assault on my bottom. Not as severe as a cane or strapping certainly, but a hand spanking that rivaled Luke’s in intensity.
I heard Kelly say, “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Look at that shade of red, will you?”
“Not as lovely as welts, but not bad,” added Anna.
By the 50th spank, my attempt at stoicism was a distant memory.
“Please, sir. Please don’t hit me so hard.” He ignored me, delivering the final ten with extra zeal, if anything. When he was finished, it was difficult for my mind to process the fact that my chastisement was only halfway complete.
After Archer pushed me unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor, my tights still lowered to just below my poor, tenderized bottom, Kelly ordered me to stand up. I started to pull up my tights as I stood, but she said with surprising sternness, “Did I say you could pull up your tights, professor? Leave them down so we can all get a proper look at your little cock. Turn around and stand before us. Put your hands on top of your head.”
When I complied with her order, my cock was still quite limp, somewhat shriveled even. But almost as soon as I stood up, I felt it began to stir under their scrutiny.
“Look at the tiny, hairless thing.,” said Anna, smiling contemptuously.
“Pathetic,” said Archer, with a sneer.
“Oh, look. It’s starting to get bigger. That was quick! It must like all of the attention,” laughed Kelly.
With each humiliating comment, it grew harder. My ass was burning, but no longer under a constant barrage (for the moment, at least), the sensation only fueled my involuntary, indeed most unwanted, arousal.
“It looks like it’s up to me beat his hard-on back out of him,” said Paul, patting his knee. “Come over here, Rollins, so I can finish your correction. Leave your tights down. You have 60 more coming.”
As this was unthinkable to me, I felt compelled to try to negotiate – or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say, grovel. When I walked over to where Paul was sitting, rather than lie over his knees, I dropped to my own, at his feet.
“My lord, Sir Archer’s punishment was quite severe. I’m not sure that I can take another 60 right now. I beg you to show some mercy to your lowly page by deferring some of my punishment until next Tuesday.” I then grasped his right foot with my hands and began kissing the tops of his brown, leather shoe. “Please, my lord.”
That Paul was triumphant, bringing me to my knees and abasing myself at his feet – even without being expressly commanded to do so – was clearly evident in his supremely smug, self-satisfied expression. It was painful to behold, but not as painful as another 60 spanks on my already wounded bottom would be. Groveling was a skill that I been refining over the last several months with Luke, so I continued my efforts.
“Please, my lord. Surely you and Princess Anna have some more dry cleaning that needs to be done or some other errands that need to be run. Your humble page is at your disposal.”
“This is a trip,” said Kelly.
“It IS a sign of strength for a ruler to occasionally grant mercy. What do you think, babe?”, said Anna.
“I’m considering it,” said Paul. “Sharing information might help your cause, page. Tell me, what is the story with you bringing Neil Lawson a cup of coffee today? That coffee shop is on the other side of campus. Is that a service that you regularly provide for him? Before you answer, you should know that if I sense you’re not being completely truthful, I’ll add 20 spanks to your punishment now, rather than reduce or defer any of it. If I find out you’re lying after the fact, the consequences for you will be dire.”
To say that I felt somewhat trapped at that moment would be an understatement. I certainly didn’t want to reveal any information to Paul about the nature of my relationship with my colleague, and yet I felt that not doing so was perilous. The slippery slope, again.
So, I continued my descent. “I bring Neil a cup of coffee four days a week, my lord.”
“Why? Are you his lackey or something? You’re senior to him on the faculty, right? Shouldn’t he be the one bringing you coffee, if anything?”
“It’s true that Neil doesn’t have tenure yet but he’s up for tenure in the spring. But it’s not like junior faculty members run errands or anything like that for senior faculty members. It’s just that Neil knows that I’m on a diet and feels that the exercise will do me good. He takes a personal interest in my health and physical fitness, as my friend.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me. I’ve seen Neil lifting weights with Luke at the gym a couple of times. It looks like they’re getting to be pretty chummy.”
“Yes, my lord, they like to work out together. They bond over sports.”
“Interesting. Is Neil aware of your weekly weigh-ins and punishments for failing to lose weight?”, Paul continued his interrogation.
“Yes, my lord,” I answered, deeply ashamed.
“Well, you’ve definitely lost quite a bit of weight, professor. Keep up the good work!”, said Kelly, with seeming sincerity. What a surreal moment this was, I thought to myself.
“Thank you, Princess Kelly.”
“Does Luke allow Neil to witness your weigh-ins and punishments,” Paul asked.
“Yes, my lord. Twice.”
“Keep kissing my shoes when you’re not speaking. Does Luke allow Neil to participate in your punishments?”
“Yes, my lord. Once.” I started kissing the bottom of his right shoe.
Being humiliated and punished by Luke was shameful. Neil’s participation in my punishment and humiliation made it infinitely more so. Being humiliated and punished by my students was incredibly shameful. Them knowing that Neil, another professor in my department, not only was aware of, but even took an active part in my punishment and humiliation was indescribably shameful. It was more than a slippery slope. It was quicksand. And I was sinking deeper by the second.
Paul was not yet done with his interrogation, however. “What other services do you provide for Professor Lawson, besides bringing him coffee?”
I hesitated. But mindful of Paul’s warning (he did seem to have some mysterious ability to intuit and/or discover things about me), I came clean, thereby deepening the pit in which I was sinking: “On Wednesdays, when he has several back-to-back classes, I have started to massage his feet in his office.”
“I knew it! Last week when I walked into his office and you were there, you were acting very nervous. I saw his shoes on the floor next to his desk. There’s not really many reasons to take off your shoes and socks on a freezing day. I had a sneaky suspicion that that’s what was going on. You’re an even bigger beta than I could’ve conceived of, Rollins. Is there anyone you’re not subservient to?”
“Yes, my lord….I mean, prior to 10 months ago…I wasn’t submissive to anyone….except in…my…my, imagination. Everything’s different now…”
“You’re leading a male masochist’s dream! Lick the bottom of my shoe. Do you realize how extraordinarily fortunate you are, old man?”
“Yes, my lord,” I said before reapplying my tongue to the sole of Paul’s shoe.
“This discussion has been very useful. You’ve given me all kinds of ideas about how to further enhance your submissive experience to make it truly exceptional. To make it world class. All the building blocks are already in place. We just need to find a way to integrate them,” Paul said.
“Look how hard his baby cock is! He loves the idea!”, said Anna.
“Now lie down across my lap. The new information I learned just now has caused me to feel magnanimous, so I will grant you mercy by deferring 20 of your spanks until Tuesday and pardoning 10 altogether,” Paul said.
At that exact moment, having my remaining punishment cut in half (at least for that day), I was more grateful about the present reprieve than concerned about any possible future danger that might result from Paul’s increased knowledge. It was only later, during many restless, sleep-deprived nights, that I began to really worry about the possible implications of Paul knowing that I was also submissive to my fellow professor.
“You are very kind, my lord,” I said as his hand came crashing down on the center of my ass. The irony of the moment produced hearty laughter from both Anna and Kelly.
My tights were still lowered, so my erect, bare cock pressed against the denim – a coarser variety than Archer’s – of Paul’s jeans. How much shame could one person endure in a single evening? But it was only 8:30 PM; I still had over an hour left with my young tormentors.
Whereas Archer’s technique was to alternate cheeks, Paul preferred picking one spot and sticking to it for repeated spanks. He focused on the center of my bottom, initially 10 strikes where the crack of my ass began and then moving methodically lower until the final 20 were on the area closest to my scrotum. Unfortunately, Paul hit harder today than on my last visit, no doubt making sure he at least matched the force of Archer in front of the two young women, who were watching with rapt attention. As he delivered the final twenty or so spanks, the pain was searing and I began kicking my legs more and more and squirming around on his lap in a futile attempt to alleviate it, or to escape. On the bright side, my erection quickly subsided under the intensity of his assault.
“Stay still, or I will add the 30 back,” he warned, sternly, grabbing my right arm and holding it tightly behind my back with his free hand.
When he was finally done, he roughly pulled up my tights, producing a wedgie effect, and almost playfully swatted my bottom twice, saying, “You may get up now. Go stand in the corner. Hands behind your head.”
I did as commanded, but Kelly objected, “Why did you pull his tights back up? I want to see what shade of red his ass is now.”
“Lower your tights, page boy,” ordered Anna.
“Yes, princess,” I said, following her command. My eyes were wet with tears, but I was hoping they wouldn’t notice. I wanted to at least deprive them of the satisfaction that they caused me to cry.
“Do I hear sniffling, professor? Did getting spanked by his big, mean student make the poor, wimpy professor cry?”
“No, Princess Kelly.”
“I’m not sure I believe you,” Kelly replied.
“Look at his ass. The color reminds me of raw hamburger meat. Are you sure it will heel quickly enough, babe?”, asked Anna.
“Archer and I hit him hard, but not hard enough for any permanent bruises. The color will fade quickly,” said Paul. “Sort of like a sunset. An intense color that fades quickly.”
“Too bad. It’s such a lovely color, “ said Kelly.
After 10 minutes, during which they passed around a joint and continued to tease me, Anna said, “You’re right, the color is starting to fade already. Turn around, you naughty page boy, and face us. Keep your hands on your head.”
“Well, the color of ass may be like setting like the sun, but his little cock is compensating for it,” said Kelly, with a giggle.
“Pathetic,” commented the eloquent Archer.
I looked down to see my cock standing at attention through my tights, wishing I could simply disappear. I stood there shamefully for another twenty minutes as they finished a second joint.
After they finished, Anna said, “We’re running out of time before the good professor turns into a pumpkin. It’s time for your reward, professor. Obeisance!”
Recalling last week, I quickly dropped to the floor down on my belly and clasped my hands behind my back.
“Very good. You remembered,” Anna said. “Now slither on your belly to our feet, as we taught you.”
I began my humiliating belly crawl across the floor – only a few feet, but it felt like many more – my hard cock grinding into the hardwood, once again fearful that the combination of the potent humiliation and the stimulus to my cock would result in me ejaculating en route. Fortunately, it did not. Once I reached them, I craned my neck up to look at the four pairs of shoes hovering above me, and planted a kiss on the top of each, as I had been instructed during my last visit.
Anna then said, “Kelly, switch places with Paul, please.”
Once she did, Anna ordered me to lie on my back next to where she and Kelly were seated on the sofa. Rolling over, I winced with pain as my bottom touched the floor. From experience, I knew that sitting would be uncomfortable for the next day or two.
She then said to Kelly, “Do you want to provide the olfactory stimulation or the tactile stimulation?”
As if this was a routine occurrence in their lives, Kelly said, “Oh, definitely the tactile stimulation. It will be fun to toy with his little dicklet. Besides, based on what Paul said about your foot sweat, you’re the one who can provide the best olfactory stimulation.” Kelly chuckled.
“Very funny,” said Anna, smiling. “Very well.”
Anna removed her heels and placed her moist stocking-clad feet directly over my nose and mouth. Kelly kept her heels on and began pressing the toe of her right heel firmly into my balls, through my tights. She then began lightly kicking my balls. It was mildly painful, but not so painful that it caused my hard cock to deflate; it was painful yet still highly arousing, a well calibrated approach that suggested to me that Kelly had some experience tormenting others along similar lines.
“Take deep breaths, professor,” Anna ordered.
Her feet indeed had a strong, distinct odor, at once malodorous and fragrant, sour yet sweet. As I inhaled, Kelly began grinding her heel directly into the underside of my cock, pressing it into my body. Only about three minutes into this sensuous torture, my cock erupted, my semen seeping copiously through my white tights. I groaned involuntarily as I orgasmed, a groan of simultaneous ecstasy and despair. Because I hadn’t come in so long, I produced what was for me at least, a prodigious amount. What appalling, exquisite humiliation! I tried to imagine what it would be like facing my three students in class next week, or for that matter, any time again for the rest of my life. It was certainly a moment that would never be forgotten by anyone in that room.
“It looks like our professor enjoyed his reward,” Kelly said, snickering. “And I could tell when he was about to shoot his wad, so I moved my foot away just in the nick of time.” She picked up her heel and pointed at it, “See no icky professor goo. It’s clean.”
Anna said to me, “You see, being enslaved to us is not all about punishment. There are rewards as well, occasionally.”
“Yes, thank you Princess Anna, Princess Kelly.”
Well, at least I wouldn’t have to lick up my ejaculate this time. Paul threw me a towel. I was permitted to clean myself up and was then ordered to put the towel into the washing machine (by itself, as Anna didn’t want the towel I soiled to be near any of their clothes or linen). I then cleared up the kitchen. Finally, I was allowed to change back into my street clothes. Before I left the apartment, I was required one last time to bow down before each of them, kiss their feet and thank them for allowing me to be of service. I then went down the elevator, relieved to see a different doorman (one who I had never encountered before), who more or less ignored me as I exited the building.
I pulled up to my house at 10:20 P.M., surprised to see the light on in the kitchen. When Brooke and Luke went out to dinner on Thursdays, Luke usually drove, so it was not unusual to see Brooke’s car in the driveway. Maybe they had just forgotten to turn off the lights?
But as I entered the kitchen, I was alarmed to see Brooke sitting alone at the table. Expecting to be asked where I had been, I started trying to think of plausible explanations.
However, Brooke simply looked up at me. She had a glum expression on her face and her eyes were bloodshot, as if she had been crying. Something was definitely up.
“Hi, honey,” I said, nervously.
“Hi.”
“Where’s Luke?”
“He’s gone.”
“Will he back later, or is he staying at his house tonight?”
“He’ll be staying at his house every night from now on.”
“What are you talking about? What happened?”
“Go get a bottle of scotch and two glasses. I need a drink.”

I've seen a lot of advice for two or three cats but I'm having a hard time finding advice for this situation.
I started with one cat (Dexter) who I got when he was a little kitten 11 years ago. He's lovely, a bit of a crank. When he was about 2, I moved to a place where I could reunite with my childhood dog (she'd been living with my mom), and being young and naive we just threw them in a room together and they mostly gave each other space after an initial wtf. Harley, my dog, died about four years ago, which around when I met Snap. They had no idea how old he was, on the young end maybe 2, on the old end maybe 6, but introducing Dex and Snap was hell. We tried to do it slow, there was constantly hissing and swiping through the door at each other. It took about 4 months before they could be in a room together, they'd still fight sometimes and have to be seperate for that first year, but now they're fine with each other and live as roommates that don't exactly like each other.
I wanted another cat so bad and when I bought my house with lots more space, I decided to get one. I did my research and got a kitten, female, Murder Mittens, and sure enough it was legions easier. Within two weeks she was able to be left alone with the boys and Snap loved her; taught her everything he knew about how to be a great cat. She was the light of my life and I had her for 6 months before she had a heart attack and died suddenly. I was there with her when it happened and I wish with everything I have I had my little Murder Kitten back, but that's not how the world works. My grief is pretty raw, and my therapist as well as everyone else was like "hey maybe get another cat". I had wanted an orange cat forever and had been joking, before this happened, that we needed a fourth cat, so the urge for more cats had been there before my loss.
I know I probably should have gotten another female kitten but I'll be honest: I don't have it in me to watch another kitten die if anything bad were to happen. Her death cemented that fear that the worst can happen out of nowhere on a sunny day. I'm not sure I'm ever gonna be in a place where I want a kitten again.
So instead I got teenagers. They are a super cute bonded pair, the nicest temperaments, good with other cats. My little Miss always seemed like she wanted a friend her own age, and I've never had brothers before. I love these guys, Chapo is an attention hog who just purrs relentless whenever we're in the same room and Orange Cat is such a friendly, brave fellow.
Wow I'm ranting, thanks for getting this far.
I guess the tl:dr is does anyone have advice on how to do this? Like should I have Chapo and Dexter meet separately or would it be better to introduced Orange Cat to the established men of the house, then Chapo, or go about it as if each set of cats is one cat and just introduce them that way?
We'll go slow, I'm pretty patient, right now the boys are very comfortable in their room, I've put the men in a separate bedroom to let the boys explore the house here and there and they've made themselves right at home. The men are acting normal, a little curious about the boys' room. There's been a bit of visual contact because the boys follow me around so the men have seen two orange fellows looking curiously into a room. No hissing or swatting at the door like there was with Dex and Snap originally. No territorial behavior when the boys are back in the room and the men are wandering where these strange new orange fellows once were.
Again, thanks for reading. I know it got sad in there. Any advice is appreciated

a rather frightening sutta on the importance of right speech (link to full sutta is below and is well worth a read):

A person is born with an axe in their mouth.
A fool cuts themselves with it when they say bad words.
When you praise someone worthy of criticism,
or criticize someone worthy of praise,
you choose bad luck with your own mouth:
you’ll never find happiness that way.
Bad luck at dice is a trivial thing, if all you lose is your money and all you own, even yourself.
What’s really terrible luck is to hate the holy ones.
For more than two quinquadecillion years, and another five quattuordecillion years,
a slanderer of noble ones goes to hell,
having aimed bad words and thoughts at them.
A liar goes to hell, as does one who denies what they did.
Both are equal in the hereafter, those men of base deeds.
Whoever wrongs a man who has done no wrong,
a pure man who has not a blemish,
the evil backfires on the fool,
like fine dust thrown upwind.
One addicted to the way of greed,
abuses others with their speech,
faithless, miserly, uncharitable, stingy,
addicted to backbiting.
Foul-mouthed, divisive, ignoble,
a baby-killer, wicked, wrongdoer, worst of men,
cursed, base-born—quiet now, for you are bound for hell.
You stir up dust, causing harm,
when you, evildoer, malign the good.
Having done many bad deeds,
you’ll go to the pit for a long time.
For no-one’s deeds are ever lost, they return to their owner.
In the next life that stupid evil doer sees suffering in themselves.
They approach the place of impalement,
with its iron spikes, sharp blades, and iron stakes.
Then there is the food, which appropriately, is like a red-hot iron ball.
For the speakers speak not sweetly,
they don’t hurry there, or find shelter.
They lie upon a spread of coals, they enter a blazing mass of fire.
Wrapping them in a net, they strike them there with iron hammers.
They come to blinding darkness, which spreads about them like a fog.
Next they enter a copper pot, a blazing mass of fire.
There they roast for a long time, writhing in the masses of fire.
Then the evildoer roasts therein a mixture of pus and blood.
No matter where they settle, everything they touch there hurts them.
The evildoer roasts in worm-infested water.
There’s not even a shore to go to, for all around are the same kind of pots.
They enter the Wood of Sword-Leaves, so sharp they cut their body to pieces.
Having grabbed the tongue with a hook, they stab it, slashing back and forth.
Then they approach the impassable Vetaraṇi River, with its sharp blades, its razor blades.
Idiots fall into it, the wicked who have done wicked deeds.
There dogs all brown and spotted, and raven flocks, and greedy jackals
devour them as they wail, while hawks and crows attack them.
Hard, alas, is the life here that evildoers endure.
That’s why for the rest of this life a person ought do their duty without fail.
Experts have counted the loads of sesame
as compared to the Pink Lotus Hell.
They amount to 50,000,000 times 10,000,
plus another 12,000,000,000.
As painful as life is said to be in hell, that’s how long one must dwell there.
That’s why, for those who are pure, well-behaved, full of good qualities,
one should always guard one’s speech and mind.

https://suttacentral.net/snp3.10/en/sujato

I grew up in the nineties in an Eastern European country, so my first exposure to comics was through cartoons. Obviously those are easier to get across large distances. I didn't have the TV channel that showed X-Men as a kid, but I watched Spider-Man ('94), which was amazing (no pun intended), The Fantastic Four (bad) and Iron Man (the worst). At some point I realized those shows are based on comics that I could read and was disappointed to discover none of those existed in my region.
I also grew up on Mickey Mouse comics that are pretty cool for a kid, and collected all of them, until sadly they increased the price to add some shitty toys in each issue, and I had to drop them (as I was older, it made no sense to pay extra for baby toys).
The first more adult comics I got to were mostly movie adaptation, such as Batman Returns (not bad), Spider-Man (2002 – meh), but also some original books or tie-ins like Star Wars and The Spectacular Spider-Man (2003 – loved Ramos's art), which was sadly cancelled (here, not world-wide) after about five issues. There was also Spawn and The Goon, but for some reason (maybe financial) I didn't buy those.
The moment I started buying auperhero comics more regularly was when a Spider-Man series started coming out which reimagined the first issues from the sixties. I am not sure of which reimagining it was exactly, but it did an ok job. Then Ultimate came out, which I disliked but still bought, as well as The New Avengers, which was pretty cool, and Astonishing X-Men, which was cancelled very soon. I skipped Ultimate X-Men.
At that point I started torrenting comics, which had me read some awesome stuff, like Batman by Grant Morrison, Green Lantern by Geoff Johns, Civil War, Planet Hulk, and later books that are currently some of my favourites, like Invincible and Walking Dead.
Luckily, my country now has way more comics, but mostly collected editions. I am currently buying the Marvel Ultimate Graphic Novels Collection (but only those that are actually good, like The Kree-Skrull War), Blacksad, Batman graphic novels, TWD compendiums, Sandman, and some Hellboy, BPRD, etc. Comics here are still not that abundant, so I try to always bring some home when I am abroad. However, it is fairly easy to find imported interesting stuff at random in the bookstore, and occasionally some new cool translated stuff, like TMNT: Ronin, even though they are expensive.
As for manga, there is too much, since recently, but I don't care about that stuff, and as for local comics – they have proven to be too difficult/expensive to make and not popular enough to redeem the investments, so just a few issues come out before they get cancelled and there have been like two or three series I can think of.
So, for a comic book lover things are getting better, and reading online is also a good option. I am happy with the progress, but I have accepted there will never be as many different comics available, as there are abroad.
So, what was the situation where you are at while you were growing and what is it now? I am just curious, because I can imagine there has been a very different and random way this has developed in different places. Like, I feel the series we got were a weird run of events, and completely different series have managed to survive a longer run in other places, so please, tell me.